Idk how much of this will and won't be spoilers so I threw in the tag to be safe.
The "something" in question is the naming conventions in this DLC.
Seeing as how this DLC is based on the in-game show of the same name, it makes sense that these characters we know from the game aren't named. The Waitress being Rose, The Sheriff being Tim, The Sibling being Jesse, etc. Even the background characters have non-names like "lady with seven corgis" or "weird guy with a hat" (can't remember them exactly off the top of my head but it's something like that).
Except for in Time Breaker. You have the Shawn variant named "Branch" a couple times by The Agent (not-Jesse) and you hear Shawn refer to the Director as Sam once or twice audibly. But the biggest exception to this is, the one and only, Door.
He could have been The Mysterious Man, The Pursuer. He could have even been The Master of Many Worlds, as he is referred to a few times throughout. But instead, he is named.
I think this so freaking cool for a couple reasons.

1. It's confirmed in this DLC, in its own quirky way, that Hatch from Quantum Break is Door, which means he is 1:1. There is no other multiversal counterpart, so a character title is not required for him like with the other characters, whose roles could be filled with numerous other variants.
   
2. This decision makes it clear, to me at least, that while everyone else we meet in the DLC is a character, Door is Door. He is no actor, no pretender, no prop for the show. This makes him stand out and accentuates his already-looming presence over the whole RCU
   

Jesus Christ. I know this DLC may have felt short and disappointing for some and for those people, I'm sorry. But this DLC, for me, was equally parts exactly what I expected and mind blowing like I did not expect. In typical Remedy fasion, I left stun-locked on my couch pondering daily what was just fan fiction (Episode 1), what was an echo of another life (Episode 2), and what was a peak behind the curtain of the greater truth (Episode 3).
Easy 8/10 DLC

I like my classmate for almost a year now and I don't know what to do.At the moment, I have 14 boyfriends that I like too, let's call him David. David is my classmate and it's terrible, but if you saw his appearance, you would understand why I like him (literally half of my small town likes him). Let's start from the beginning, my friend and I will call her Sarah. Sarah and I were walking in the park and decided to go to the city to buy ice cream until here I see David, whom I already liked at that moment, with his friend (I still don't know what his name is) were walking towards us our dialogue - Hello, Sara and I greet them. - Hello, says David - Hello, by the way David loves one of you - says David's friend. We stand in shock, it was obvious that David was embarrassed for his friend. But I am not one of those people who will remain silent in such situations, so at one moment a phrase comes out of my mouth - Hm.. Then I sympathize with him (David) After my words, we turned around and entered the store, Sarah and I were in shock. The next day I decide to text him like "What the hell happened yesterday?" so I'm asking Sarah for his phone number. I wrote to him and he replied in almost a minute - Why don't you understand jokes!? I, in turn, wrote - I understand only normal jokes. After that, we started a correspondence (I won't go into details because it will take a lot of time). The correspondence lasted for 6-8 months, after which on March 25 he wrote that he did not want to communicate anymore. I took it hard but wrote him back, something like that - Okay, write if you change your mind. he wrote back - I won't change my mind.. I wrote okay and threw it in the archive and telegram. Exactly ten days later he writes to me -Hello - Do you still play in mine? - I repaired the computer. -? I was in shock (when we corresponded, I often mentioned that I play minecraft with Stacey). I answered him something like this - What difference does it make to you, you don't talk to me!? - I'm not talking, I'm just asking. He answered. Sounds like a pure lie, hmm.. wants to seem like a bad boy who can manipulate me but no. I am one of those people who write first, and he obviously thought that after that day I would continue to write to him, but I did not write. He did this several more times but I ignored him as he had ignored me before.But after the end of the correspondence, we started talking at school. I just don't understand him, sometimes he's so nice to me and sometimes he's just scum. One day at school, I asked him for mint gum and he said that it was the last one and went somewhere. I answered ok, I understand, not hoping for anything. Sarah's classmates who were sitting behind us were also in shock. I know the story is complicated, but damn, I really like him, but I'm afraid to tell him about it. If you have any advice before that I would really appreciate it, because I really don't know what to do in this situation. If I tell about my feelings, he can tell other classmates and friends.But on the other hand, if it's mutual, then we'll start dating and that's cool. This discussion has been in my head for half a year and I don't know what to do next. Girlfriends say that he is just a red flag and relations with him will not be very good if there are any. Reader, I hope you can give me some advice about this)) thank you for reading 🤗💋

I find that when chatting with online people, it's easier to get bored and lose touch. I think we can build a stronger connection if we make time to have more meaningful interactions. So maybe there's some activity we can bond over. I have some ideas. Some of them are probably stupid. But I want to hear your ideas too! Let's find something we'll both enjoy:

• I don't play many multiplayer games, but I'd be down to try something casual
• We could try a virtual book club, take turns reading out loud? I dunno if this is a stupid idea or not tbh
• We could pair on a cool programming project
• Body doubling
• Try one of those home workouts? (Maybe also a stupid idea.)
• What would you like to do?

A long read, may have posted bits of this already months back but still struggling. I really appreciate anyone who has the time to read and comment.
Last year I was seeing a “trauma informed integrative creative arts therapist” at $225 a week out of pocket. I was only able to swing it because my insurance offers 80% reimbursement for out of network benefits, and I was in dire straights and needed specialized help. I chose her because her Psychology Today profile, website and public social media made her seem more sophisticated and knowledgeable than the vast majority of therapists in my area by a long shot. I was already using art as a means of therapeutic self expression so I was excited to try her integrative art therapy approach. Through her professional (?) social media I was able to see that we both liked the same kinds of plants, music, similar political leanings, interest in ecology and environmentalism, and fashion. She’s very beautiful, well read, well spoken and charismatic. Prior to seeing her I had a string of therapists that were utterly useless and couldn’t help me, and I felt like I’d finally found the one. She said some things during our first session that stood out to me. “I’m not here to pass judgement.” Good! But then, “Well, I mean, everyone passes judgment, we’re all human.” I wasn’t sure what to make of that but I just overlooked it. Then she said, unprompted “people just come up to me and tell me about their lives” with a very self congratulatory tone. My immediate thought was that this woman must have some kind of magic touch. Surely she’d help me.
And she did! Somehow during that time I felt significantly better, which baffles me because she also hurt me badly. I spent the next 18 months on a rollercoaster ride with her. She contradicted herself often. She self disclosed needlessly, and seemed to be imposing her worldview. We misunderstood each other to a degree I’ve never experienced with anyone else in my entire life, but I figured I must just be stupid or crazy. She made unprompted statements like “I’m reeeeally good at what I do”, “I’ve had many clients who are extremely wealthy”, and when she heard what my salary is she audibly gasped and said “I pay my babysitters more than that! Oh my god!”. She was exceptionally ignorant on matters of economic class, though she would say otherwise. It was very clear to me through her unprompted self disclosures that she is wealthy, traveled the world several times over since childhood, and only had a very superficial awareness of how the other half lives. All of her statements regarding money made me feel smaller than an ant. I told her that I hope to own a home one day because my partner has the privilege of getting an inheritance someday. When I said a number she flat out said “that’s not feasible.” It actually is, she just couldn’t imagine it. When I spoke of my desire to be a mom all she did was talk about how expensive kids are because they need camp and a good pre school etc. I described to her that I grew up lower class and lack of camp is not what fucked me up (lol) and that lots of kids are still happy and healthy even without rich parents. She got really weird after that, like she didn’t know how to respond. She also said “we started ours at 2 because we value early education” as though people who can’t afford to send their kids to fancy private preschools don’t value early education just as much. It’s just inaccessible to them. I forget the context but she once said about me and my husband “I know you guys are like socialists or whatever, but…” while rolling her eyes, but I’d never once mentioned my political affiliation. During one session, she went on this weird monologue about how “scientists are proving that reality isn’t real” and “reality is different for everyone” when I tried talking about the gaslighting I experienced as a child. It was so bizarre. I asked her if she thought I had BPD and she said no because if I did I’d be using a lot more black and red colors in my art….!!??!??! She had me read The Untethered Soul, which was okay but to truly implement its teachings one would have to have basic financial stability. She acknowledged this but used the example of “a mom with five kids in the Bronx” as the kind of person who wouldn’t get much out of the books contents. I felt like saying “or young people who live right here in our town like me and most of my friends, actually.” I am sure I was her poorest client, just lucky enough to have a government job that provided insurance with OON benefits. Still, the reimbursements came in very slow, and I regularly gave her my very last dime until the next pay day. I relied on her to email me receipts to submit to my insurance company which I needed to remind her to do literally every time.
Now here’s where it gets real bad. I was having issues with my husband so she had us sign waivers so she could talk to his therapist. She told me she wouldn’t be able to tell me the contents of their discussions, which makes perfect sense. Except she did. A lot. And it turned out she exaggerated and possibly outright lied. The advice she gave me always lead to further conflict with my husband. I was confused because what she said his therapist said didn’t match up with what HE said his therapist was saying to him. It got to a point where I was put in a position to have to lie to my husband: either I tell him what his therapist allegedly said about him to my therapist, destroying his trust in him, or I lie. I wasn’t willing to do either of those things.
I decided I’d had enough, so I wrote her an email that was very direct but not unkind in any way. I needed to make her aware that the dynamic she created with my husband and his therapist was harmful, that her remarks about money alienated me, and that I had reminded her a total of three times to send me a receipt for reimbursement and that I should not be responsible for having to remind her again. We had our session the following day, and it left me in tears and feeling crazy. She denied that she broke confidentiality (I have it in a text message so nice try), said “who are you to school me on economics” with a really mean tone, and basically berated me for an hour while I sat there crying. It was INSANE. I never went back. I never reported her.
Since then I haven’t been able to shake it despite working with a wonderful new therapist. I am stuck on how strangely charismatic she was, that I never regretted giving her my last dime even though she made me feel bad, and somehow she also made me feel sort of high? I thought she was so cool, and she seemed to think I was cool. I am sure there was countetransference to a degree. In hindsight there were a lot more red flags. She would talk about “clean eating” and remark that American food is poisoned and gluten is bad etc. all unprompted and out of her scope of practice. She used a lot of new age lingo despite me telling her that didn’t resonate. Made a lot of comments about her own opinions and worldview on various topics. Her social media is very much all her, photos and videos of her, it just seems like she wants to be somebody’s guru. Her history doesn’t line up either - she claims she has 21 years experience as a therapist but told me she’d left the field for a while and worked in fashion for a time, but she’s not old enough for that to add up unless she literally only took a few months hiatus which I guess is possible.
The weird thing is, I spent months thinking she was the best person. I did feel better in terms of my self confidence when it came to expressing myself… but in hindsight it wasn’t her, it was me. I did all that work. Maybe it was the art. But why did I give her so much of what little money I had for so long? Why did I stay on that roller coaster? Put up with her contradictions and unethical behavior? I literally feel like I left a tiny cult.
The contrast between her and my current therapist is wildly stark. My current therapist is refreshingly boring and I know next to nothing about her. She has no public social media presence. She never makes me feel judged or bad about myself, ever. Shes also out of network but SHE submits the receipts to my insurance company FOR ME and waits for them to pay her the full amount…. And I just give her my copay. I didn’t even know an out of network provider could do that. Now therapy is truly accessible to me.
I still don’t know what to make of what happened. Unfortunately I have to see my ex-therapist as she is a frequent patron where I work, and I found out she has a new office literally a block from my home. It’s in a little cottage on the grounds of the Unitarian church I used to belong to and was thinking of going back… welp, not anymore. Ugh.
She fucked with my mind and I am still messed up from it. Her public persona is somehow troubling to me, like it’s fake and she’s trying to reel people in. Something about her “coolness” and palpable overconfidence is very off-putting. Cult leader-like. I’m embarrassed to keep bringing it up to my current therapist because I have so many other BIG issues to work on, and I feel like I should have let this go.

As a native Finnish speaker, Kuolema Tekee Taiteilijan, Erämaan Viimeinen (Last of the Wilds with lyrics) and Taikatalvi have a special place in my heart. Not just because they are in Finnish, but because the lyrics are pure magic compared to both English lyrics by Nightwish and Finnish lyrics by anyone else (not to disrespect Nightwish’s English lyrics, there are many gems too).
People who don’t speak Finnish, how do you approach these songs? I’ve seen many people not appreciating them very much, and I kind of understand them. Of course it’s harder to get into a song when you don’t understand a word, or even if you have a translation. If you dislike (one of) them, are the lyrics the problem? If you like (one of) them, what makes it/them good?
Of course we also have Lappi and the intro of My Walden in Welsh, as well as the bridge/C-part of The Crow, the Owl and the Dove in Welsh and the outro of Shoemaker in Latin, but those two are just a couple of words repeated. Tarja’s Mystique Voyage (English, Spanish, Finnish) is also cool. Let’s leave the mess known as Creek Mary’s Blood out this time.

What’s everyone looking forward to most about the upcoming TI? For me:
The theme + the AR / graphics: last year’s church theme was super cool. Excited to see what they go for this year and how they step it up.
EU DOTA: While I personally loved having TI back in Seattle, it felt like fan engagement wasn’t as big as the previous couple of years because of the NA time zone. Excited to see more Europe, Russia, China action.
Music: The last couple of years have had amazing music. Last years with all the dota sounds used in the music was really well done. It was great to have the classic dota orchestra music too in the opening. Excited to see what new music they make this year and how it fits in with the new theme. Hoping also that they finally release some of the new music in the TI battle pass.
Playoffs + Finals: I felt like the way last year worked with the playoffs being its own thing was really great. Made the finals seem even more impressive. I hope they keep that format.
Recap videos: last years were the best. Nice to see people at valve who obviously know the game so well putting in the time on making these. Since the time zone will be EU this year I think having these recaps will be even more important for us in the USA who can’t watch all the games overnight.
Hoping for: A return to the great skits and TI videos from past years. Covid seemed to reduce these a lot and I’m hoping they can bring them back now. Some of my favourites from past years were the Slacks tourism videos from Japan and China, Dendi touring Vancouver, the team skits when each team did one. I feel like we got to know all the personalities of the teams better and I looked forward to those videos almost as much as the games.
True Sight!! Has always been my favourite part of TI and I was sad when they had to stop because of Covid. Now that things are back to normal I’m hoping they can do True Sight again. Seeing the personalities and strategy of the players is what makes DOTA still relevant even though it’s an old game now. And the animations are so dope.
It’s a big list I know but TI is what brings me back to the game every year. I love the spectacle!
What are your hopes and dreams for this year?

Hi, been searching and scrolling this subreddit after receiving a mildly threatening letter from my next door neighbor. She claims two trees I have in my backyard are invading her backyard with roots. She included photos of extensive above-ground coverage of a root system that seems to have gone unchecked for a very long time. I have never interacted with this neighbor as they seem to keep to themselves and have a large privacy fence around their backyard so I have not personally seen this myself.
I don't know a ton about trees but it seems a bit strange to me that the roots of my tree would have only spread to her yard, which is up a slope from my home, to break through the surface and cover her yard, and I have absolutely nothing of the sort within my yard where the trees are, or the neighbor behind me. I guess it's possible they only grew that direction but how could she definitively say they're from my tree? This neighborhood has lots of old trees and is very green overall for a suburban neighborhood, though she has none directly growing in her yard. My trees in question I imagine have to be pretty old as they're probably 60-70 feet tall or more. I've only lived here 3 years so those trees existed long before I moved into this home.
She claims the roots are close to her foundation and new driveway and alleges they're impacting the plumbing (but doesn't specify any details). From the way she phrased the letter it implies she intends to seek legal action against me if there is damage from this. From the looks of the photos she has left whatever is growing there, whether from my trees or not, unchecked for a very long time and my feeling is they want to try and make me pay for it so they don't have to handle their property issue themselves. This is my first home though so I'm very nervous if I could be held responsible for this?

Hi All,
I'm a United Gold who has a status match with both AA and AS at the moment for platinum/MVP Gold. I'm close to securing the calendar year one World sapphire with either AA/AS, but I'm running towards the end of the challenge on both. Given my work travel schedule this month, it's highly unlikely I'll be able to complete the challenge for both programs, but will certainly complete it for at least one. The question is which one should I choose. I was based in EWR and am now moving to either Texas or the west coast for work. My questions are:

1. I'm guessing if I relocate to Texas, I should just stick with AA (I won't be allowed to relocate to Houston - only Dallas/Austin since those are where my firm's offices are. Similarly, if I end up relocating west, I should choose Alaska as my program of choice?
   
2. Excluding living factors, my goal for work travel is to make my personal travel cheaper or more comfortable. Which program is better for redemptions on international flights (ideally business class, but am willing to settle for good availability of deals for main cabin as well) or getting upgraded on domestic flights at the mid-tier status levels?
   
3. Some other points in favor of AA is that I try to stay at Hyatts, and I understand they have a partnership with Hyatt while AS doesn't. This isn't a dealbreaker, but it would be cool to get more points on hyatt and vice-versa potentially.
   
4. Additionally, as you can tell, I fly often, but not all the time for work. I'm a bit hesitant about AS's purely distance-based status program since I might not hit MVP Gold again if I only travel 1x a month or so. AA seems a bit better since I can earn status through the shopping portal, CC spend, etc. and not always have to rely on work flights to get me there.
   

Any advice on which to pick or what your experiences were with each program by chance?

(Currently learning English, please don´t mind the mistakes)
Over the last yeas I have been kind of adopted into a new friendgroup. Everybody there is so so amazing and I love them all so much.
That being said, I there are some people I´ve spend more time with and some I haven´t yet. One of them is this one guy...a few weeks some of us went on a camping trip on which me and him shared a tent and ever since I have been kind of crushing on him. But yk I´m on both the acespec and the arospec so it´s not a crush-crush. For the lack of a better word I will call it a platonic crush because I want to spend time with him and him to like me and talk to him and cuddle him but if he asked me on a date (not gonna happen but I did think about it for three hours the other day) I would go and see if maybe some romantic attraction could happen.
Otherwise I think this is pretty similar to a crush and personally I hate it. It is so annoying I am constantly thinking about him and I can´t go three sentences without mentioning him and I have the crush-feeling inside me and it I feel it, constantly. The worst thing though, is that I can´t really talk to anyone about it. (Ecxept one friend, I had a two hour crisis call bout this with them)
Whenever I had a male friend people always shipped us. Whenever I expressed someone was cool or pretty or I liked them it was always like "Oh-oh, whats this? You LIKE them? Soooo like...romantically?" and then they just don´t take you seriously when you tell them it´s not like that. If I told them I had a platonic crush, they would never get over it and I feel like nobody would belive the "platonic" part about it. For me, having that assumption made about me makes me deeply uncomfortable and also brings me back to a place of questioning and invalidating my own feelings and thoughts.
My new friend group would prbly understand but like that is how I know the dude and most of them know him better than me and like it would just be awkward plus I don´t want this to get to him somehow.
But he is just so cool like it´s unreal. He has really pretty fluffy hair and a helix piercing and he has one of those jackets with patches from different rock and metal bands. He also used to play in a band wich is so cool. He is generally really good with music to the point where he picked up a melody I was humming to myself at the other side of our little camp. Also he is just such a sweet sweet person. He left me a note on my pillow bc he went up to the tent earlier than I did just in case he was already asleep and he just did not switch off the light even if I went to bed like an hour later than him (I told him like three million times it was totally fine, I did not necessarily need it)
His laugh, his happiness is infectious and so so lovely to watch. He is so seemingly effortlessly funny. Also he has a pet snake wich makes him EVEN cooler because snakes are just the coolest animals.
And now here I am with this thing happening and like we haven´t even talked that much together like what is this. But everytime we do and everytime we have a little moment together it makes me so happy and I am just overall giddy and happy and this feeling in me is bubbly and warm and kind of fun. (Sometimes, sometimes it makes me feel inferior and stupid and bad but thats more of a me thing I think)
Anyway, it´s nice to talk about it...I hope I will have the chance to hang out with him some more before I leave for my year abroad (this is such bad timing for a crush I tell you what) and maybe establish that we text a lot. I´m a bit of an introvet, though, so any ideas on how to smoothly start texting sb often or get to hang out is greatly appreachiated.

So I'm in the musical theatre club at my school, and recently we got a whole day off classes just to rehearse, which was pretty cool. During our break, I saw my Spanish teacher, so I decided to tell him 'Hey, I've got some musical theatre stuff to do, so I won't show up to class' and he was basically like 'yeah I gotchu'. Well, I heard from my friend, that when he was taking attendance, he said 'robotzi's out doing his zesty things'?!?!?! AND ALL MY OTHER FRIENDS SAID IT TOO!? I KNOW IT'S MUSICAL THEATRE BUT GOSH-
But it doesn't end there! My guy does NOT know what zesty means, to clarify. In the lesson prior, we were matching up some Spanish words for clothing (e.g: una falda, match that with a skirt) and he was doing some little charades to go along with them. And everyone was calling him zesty (those example were pretty lit, idk why there were doing bro like that). We learnt some more words and then did some more matching, but he said 'he wasn't going to do his zesty charades this time'. I'm convinced he thinks it means 'dramatic' or something, or he knows full well what he's doing and his just trying to make lessons fun.
TL;DR: teacher called me zesty while I was doing something with an after-school club

TITLE CORRECTION: TWOW Prologue Theory and Fan-Fic, 2 of 4

It is one full chapter, but because it is so long, I broke into four parts.
This is a theory for the actual Prologue of The Winds of Winter. Please enjoy. This is Part 2 of 4.
The Winds of Winter
Prologue
[Part 1]
My king. The sad memories faded into blurred flashbacks.
Olyvar cherished the sweet time as his grace’s squire. Though two years older, it made no matter. A warrior king was training Olyvar the way of knighthood, almost any boy’s dream. He remembered on slow days, Robb Stark would spend time with him, teaching the art of the long sword and shield. He can still remember the cloudy day at the Crag’s courtyard and his Northern accent as he swung his blade at the squire. “Keep your shield up Olyvar. Keep it up.”
“It’s too heavy.” Olyvar replied as Robb swung on.
“If it wasn’t heavy, it wouldn’t stop a sword. So get it up.”
They sparred and sparred in the courtyard. Robb Stark was dancing with him, hilts in hands. After he knocked Olyvar to the dirt for the twentieth time, he lifted him back up.
“Come, drive at me.” Robb then grabbed Olyvar gently by the back of his neck. “Look Olly, keep your shield up or I’ll ring your head like a bell.”
Olyvar never forgot that moment, his Grace’s right-hand touch, the way Robb looked into his eyes and called him ‘Olly’. No one has ever called him that and he liked it very much. They continued to dance. Rain began to fall, turning dirt into mud. Olyvar darted at him. Robb stepped aside, deflecting the stab off his shield and twirled around forward in a natural motion, his cloak spinning in the air. Before Olyvar knew it, Robb had his rear, his sword ready to thrust or slash any part of him. He glanced back and knew he was lost. The dance paused there and Olyvar turned around to meet Robb’s beautiful blue eyes. He could melt in them.
“You had me your Grace.”
“Come Olly, it’s your turn.” A winter wind came blowing in from across the sea. A breeze lingered there, brushed Robb’s auburn hair. “Now, dance with me!”
It almost felt like a sin to be as excited as Olly was at that moment.
“I’ll drive to you now. Try to do what I just did. In mud like this, don’t forget to plant your foot before each movement. And remember, you have to keep your shield up.”
As Olyvar and Robb got into their positions, his older half-nephew Ser Ryman Frey suddenly appeared and intervened. He grabbed Olyvar like a little green boy and pulled him towards the exit. NO! Olyvar’s word caught in his mouth.
Robb spoke up for him. “What are you doing? Olyvar is my squire and a grown man. He can do what he wants and speaks for himself.”
“My grandfather has declared a suspension of your alliance with House Frey,” Ryman said. “You have broken a sacred vow. If you would not have his daughter or granddaughter as your queen, you certainly cannot have his son as your squire.”
Robb was expecting Olyvar to say something, but the squire froze. More Frey guardsmen came in and dragged him away from the courtyard, his heels lifeless on the ground, leaving twin mud tracks on his departure. Robb stared at him sweet, sad, and silent. A bolt of lightning flashed across the rainy skies, its reflection off the King’s sword blinding Olyvar. That was the last time he saw Robb alive.
When news of his King returning to the Twins for the wedding between Lord Edmure Tully and his sister Roslin, Olyvar could not contain his excitement, to hear the voice of his call.
Since that rainy courtyard day, Olyvar had been on his own for long enough. He hoped maybe Robb could show him again that dance that he loved. Maybe. Olyvar had been going through withdrawals. Not seeing his Grace was just too much. He could turn me on with the slightest touch. But since the Red Wedding, Olyvar’s courtyard has been cold and empty. F\ck anyone who judges me. He couldn’t see clearly now that Robb was forever gone. Olyvar was still blinded by Robb’s last light. He couldn’t sleep, still yearning for his touch. In his heart, rain constantly fell, drowning him in the nights. I was his squire, Olyvar cried as his soul twisted. And I failed him. I was the only one that night he could trust.*
After the slaughter, Merrett Frey, a kin of his, greeted him as he released Olyvar from the dungeons. “I’m sorry Olyvar that we had to lock you up, Perwyn and Alesander too. But you must do your duty for your family. You are a Frey, a man of an honorable house. This stain left by Robb Stark and his b*tch mother Catelyn Tully should not go unpunished. Lady Catelyn also killed Jinglebells. She even japed ‘a son for a son*‘* to our Lord father as she slit his throat.”
A son for a son. Olyvar Frey looked at Merrett sullenly, his voice choking up, “I must go for a walk.” Olyvar walked and walked … passing the burnt tents, passing the dead soldiers with Northern and Riverland sigils sewn on their garments, and passing Grey Wind’s headless body. He was far enough from home, but he could still hear the cheap cheers of the Frey and Bolton soldiers.
He fell to his knees and began to cry. My king. My sweet king. Olyvar swore vengeance. Though he will never consider kinslaying as it was a curse among the gods, it would not stop him from facilitating others who seek revenge against his own family, the ones who were directly involved.
Suddenly at the side of the river, a dying man was crawling towards him. Soaked in water, mud and blood, he cried out in a ghastly voice “Olyvar!”
“Who, who are you?” Olyvar sprinted to aid and for recognition. “Raynald?” Without hesitation Olyvar replied, “My brother!” He placed himself under Raynald’s shoulder and lifted him up. “We need to find a maester.”
On the way back to camp, Olyvar and Raynald encountered two sentries of his Frey household guards, far from any other eyes can see.
“So what do you have here my Lord Olyvar?” one asked.
“A dying lone wolf? Let us put him out of his misery,” the other replied as they stared at Ser Raynald Westerling’s dampened seashell surcoat.
Olyvar lowered himself and laid Ser Raynald on the ground, and arose in a tone cold as stone. “No. Not a lone wolf.”
Olyvar unsheathed his sword and killed both Frey guards before they could reach their weapons. He then swapped Raynald’s wet Westerling clothing for one of the dead men, and found a maester.
Ser Raynald Westerling stayed with Olyvar at the Twins under disguise. He even trimmed off his brushy moustache. Weeks later after Ray had fully healed, he asked Olyvar to go with him to look for Maege Mormont and Galbart Glover at their secret hideout, as per the original plan before the wedding.
One night, Olyvar Frey simply walked out of the Twins again, this time with Ray. No one would care where Olyvar was going. Truth be told, his Frey family would be more content if more spawnlings of their lord father would leave the castle to find their own destiny, especially if they were unlikely heirs deep behind the line of succession.
Aboard one of the Northern galleys floating outside of Seagard, the Seashell Knight had to explain how this son of Walder Frey earned his trust, as Lady Mormont held Olyvar by the throat with a dagger. The skin around her eyes had been raked and blackened with tears and nails, her teeth bit with furious anger. She had been like this for weeks. Olyvar stared at her face and he felt like he could die here and now, if that was what it meant for Lady Mormont to forgive him, as he knows no gold would ever substitute for her grief. “I am sorry about your daughter Dacey. I lost my brother too. Benfred was a good man, I swear to you by all the gods old and new, that he did not have a part in the slaughter. Benfred would have done everything he could to grab an innocent woman like Dacey, and bring her safe from harm.” Olyvar meant it.
Mormont sheathed her dagger, her hands still shaking. “I’ll kill them all! Anyone who was a part of this!”
“No.” Olyvar replied. “We have to get the girls back. And then you can kill them all.”
At the siege of Riverrun, Olyvar Frey freely roamed Ryman’s uncoordinated camp. No one cared. One night alone, he swam across the moat and climbed up the castle with spikes. Only thirty feet up, the Tully guards had heard him clanking and aimed their crossbows from above. “Identify yourself!”
He whispered, “I am Olyvar Frey, son of Walder Frey, former squire to his King, Robb Stark. I come unarmed and offer myself as a hostage. I know the Blackfish, please let him know I am here.”
“Stay where you are.”
Olyvar clung to the castle’s wall half way down to death and half way up to forgiveness. Finally Ser Brynden Tully appeared and told Olyvar to come up quietly. As Olyvar threw himself over the parapet and onto the floor, the Blackfish kicked away his spikes and immediately kneed his body to the ground, holding a dagger at his throat. Shit, not again! Damn this mayhaps, why was I unblessed to be born a Frey?
“What are you doing here, Olyvar Frey?” Ser Tully demanded.
Olyvar told them the truth and handed him Lady Maege’s letter from a waterproof compartment in his garment. The letter was coded with secret words that he and she only knew. The Blackfish cracked the seal, unrolled the parchment and read. Afterwards he released the grip from the bottom and the message curled up on its own, eager to protect the secrets.
“The paper curls, at least you didn’t try to deceive me with the age of the parchment.” He then asked Olyvar, “So, you killed some of your own men did you?”
“To save Ser Westerling, yes.” The Blackfish looked at his eyes and nodded in approval. “May I see her now?” Olyvar inquired.
The Tully guards led Olyvar to her room. Some left the area, but others stayed and watched, still suspicious of the unarmed Frey. She was in her solar, knitting her needle works. He fell down to one knee towards his niece-in-law (by Olyvar’s brother-in-law, Lord Edmure Tully), “My Queen.”
“Olyvar!” Without a hint of hesitation or mistrust, she dropped her needle, ran towards him, and wrapped her loose skinny arms strongly under his’. She poured her heart, soul and grief-filled life into a Rose By the name of Olyvar Frey. He reciprocated, placing his arms around her shoulders as Jeyne Westerling-Stark continued to hold tight. Her orange sized breasts pushed against his chest, as the Queen’s chestnut mop of brown hair sat below Olyvar’s clean-shaven chin.
“Robb.” It was all she needed to say as they shared a sob. Nothing hurt more than that moment when he shared the same pain with Jeyne. Olyvar dipped his head to hers, their salty tears finally uniting and slowly dancing together as their faces pressed cheek to cheek.
“He is in the heavens now, I believe, singing from above.” Olyvar prayed. “He will be waiting for us. No doubt we will see him again some day, but we must make him wait.”
“I miss him so much,” Jeyne cried. She was always cheerful with Olyvar since they first met. Though he was curious whether she truly loved Robb or just wanted to be a queen, she has repeatedly been kind to him, so sweet. She never intervened when Robb trained Olyvar at swordplay and he was grateful for that. When they wed, Olyvar knew Robb could never be his brother, but Jeyne did not seem to mind letting him continue to squire beside her much younger brother, Rollam Westerling. Robb had allowed Olyvar to protect the queen sometimes, along with the other household guards, though he was still training at arms. Olyvar and Jeyne would talk constantly, mostly about their King. Even when Jeyne rambles about him, she would always shy away from talking about Robb’s bed manners. But Olyvar insisted he did not mind hearing it. Jeyne felt like a sister to him, just as much or more as Roslin.
“I miss him too,” Olyvar replied. “Did you really love him?”
She cried a little bit louder and squeezed Olyvar even harder. “With all my heart.”
Olyvar wanted to confess too, but he could not do it here, not with everyone watching. He only hoped Jeyne would ask him the same, and she did. “Did you really love him, Olyvar?”
He tightened his grip on Jeyne’s shoulders. “More than you ever know.”
She gently reached for his hands and lowered them. “Olyvar, you were his squire. He is gone now. But you still have a duty to us. You must protect us. We must never separate again. Promise me Olyvar. Promise me.”
“No. I cannot. Not yet. I must leave you, just this one last time, for your safety and your family’s.”
“You are part of my family,” the Queen proclaimed. Tears rolled down again, their hands still held together at their hips.
“I need to leave Riverrun tonight. And I promise you, we will reunite again and I will keep you safe.”
They talked for hours about the good times, the horror, and what the future lies. They talked about Robb, crying to the sadness of him, exulting at his bravery and his glories, laughing at the silly juvenile things the teenager king did to entertain them, and about falling in love with him all over again. And then they cried some more.
Later on that night, Ser Brynden visited Jeyne and Olyvar, with Lady Eleyna and Lady Sybell watching. “Olyvar, you were the King’s squire and though he is no longer with us, you are still owed a knighthood. Let the gods curse me if I ever knighted a Frey, but you are no Frey I have ever known. What you are about to do would be considered treason to your family.”
“But my lord father was treasonous to my King. I do not get to choose my father or which family I was born into. But here right now, is the family I want to be with.”
“Will you honor your new family? Will you honor your duty to your late King, his Queen and his House, the Starks of Winterfell?”
“I do,” Olyvar replied with pride.
The Blackfish unsheathed his sword, the blade alive with moonlight gleaming from the window balcony. “Shit I think I’m doing this wrong. I was supposed to say that later. Anyways, kneel Olyvar Frey.”
Olyvar got to one knee as Queen Stark and all the others watched. Ser Brynden Tully, the legendary warrior Blackfish, placed the flat of his sword on Olyvar’s shoulder.
“I charge you to be brave and … aww shit the knighting words escape me. I’m embarrassing myself. Anyways um. Family! Honor! Duty!” He placed the blade on the other shoulder. “Shit, I forgot the rest of the speech. Forgive me. But Olyvar of House Frey, I name you a knight! Now rise!”
And arose the new knight stood, and proud he was. King Robb Stark could have never fulfilled his promise of a knighthood, but it was his father that took it away from him. But being knighted by the Blackfish was more than anything Olyvar wanted right now, besides keeping Queen Jeyne and his family safe. To him, it was forgiveness.
The Queen approached him with a longsword in scabbard, flat on both hands. “Our late King had a gift for you Ser Olyvar Frey, at least he would have wanted you to have it.”
Before Ser Olyvar received it, he already knew what it was. Robb’s sword. “No, I cannot. I am unworthy of this gift, his Grace’s sword.”
“This is King Robb Stark’s sword, and I am his Queen wife. I charge you to protect your family with his own sword.”
Queen Jeyne Stark made an offer that Ser Olyvar cannot refuse. He took the sword from her forgiving hands.
“What will you call it?” she asked.
“What do you mean?”
“A name. Robb never named his sword. But a good sword should have a good name.”
“I was told by my half-brothers that only cun–, I mean only women name their swords. I will let you name it, my Grace. How should we honor our late King Robb Stark?”
“It is honor,” Jeyne replied.
Confused, Olyvar asked, “What is honor?”
“A sword. This sword.”
Before the sun had dawned, Ser Olyvar Frey with Honor slung on his back, climbed down the castle walls with rope, swam under the moat again, and departed the birthplace of his King, Robb Stark, as a knight.
He returned to the Twins, keeping his knighthood a secret. When Riverrun had fallen to Ser Jaime Lannister, Edmure Tully had agreed to be a prisoner at Casterly Rock. Roslin Tully volunteered to join her husband, giving them a chance to raise a family together, even as hostages. Olyvar, their brother Perwyn and half-nephew Alesander all agreed to escort Lady Tully to the Westerlands. Although they told their half-family they would take the land-route for their journey; Olyvar, Perwyn, Alesander and Roslin had a different Frey destiny in mind. After the Kingslayer’s threat to Roslin’s unborn child, there was no day they would ever stay at Casterly Rock nor return to the Twins. They departed for the coast and reunited with Ser Brynden Tully, Lady Maege Mormont and Lord Galbart Glover aboard the Motherfunker.
Before Ser Brynden escaped Riverrun alone, he and Lord Tully reviewed all their options during Edmure’s short visit. An escape on land had many risks to be recaptured or killed, but at sea it was far fewer … and having a faster ship helped. They would allow Edmure and Jeyne to be peacefully escorted by their captors to Casterly Rock as hostages, only to be rescued from the shoreline. Lady Sybell Spicer swore her brother Ser Rolph would lead the way inside the caves. “Honor, not honors,” were House Westerling’s words. And Robb Stark showed more honor to Lady Sybell’s family than any of the other Westermen could. King Robb made her daughter a Queen, while King Tommen gifted Ser Rolph with the cursed ruins of Castamere from the notorious Lannister song. This honor was more of an insult than a reward.
One night aboard the Motherfunker, Olyvar took out a fresh new flat parchment to write a letter that was meant for his father. He held his feathered quill upright, but did not know how to start. He was fidgeting as he stared up around his cabin. He began to tap the pointy end of the quill and pricked his other hand by chance. Frey blood began to trickle from the wound along with a stinging pain. Cashing in on the moment, he then knew what to say. He dipped the blood smeared quill into the black inkpot, and began to pour his soul & anger onto the kin he no longer wanted.
Father, I hurt myself today, to see if I still feel. I focus on the pain, the only thing that is real. The needle tears a hole. This old familiar family sting. I try to forget it all the way. But I remember everything. I find myself asking … “What have I become? My sweetest King? Will everyone I love go away in the end?” And Father, you can have it all. My empire of dirt. I will let you down. I will make it hurt. If I could start again, many miles back at home that night. To save my King, I would sacrifice myself. I would find a way. Your son Olyvar.
He rolled the parchment and laid a tablespoon of wax from his tallow candle at the edge. Olyvar pressed the button with his bleeding thumb, filling the stamp in a marble of white, red and pink; sealing it with his own blood. He placed the rolled parchment in his breast pocket, hoping to leave it somewhere in Casterly Rock and eventually reaching his father’s hands.
On the deck of the Motherfunker a few nights before … crewmen, Riverlands and Northern loyalists sang, drank, and cheered to the music of the masterplan. Though most wanted to spill blood to avenge the Red Wedding, humiliating their enemies would be the sweeter revenge: the story that sings in songs. But not all were there for vengeance. Some were just there for the adventure.
The Captain of the Motherfunker was there for the honor of joining their song. He wanted to look into the eyes of the lion, be a part of the thrill of the fight, rising up against our rivals. He also owed Ser Rolph Spicer a favor from their long smuggling history together at sea. If he helped rescue his niece Jeyne from the rocky castle, he would consider the debt paid, and the Black Sparrow was happy to oblige.
“So we are here to rescue this princess? No?” Samullu spoke in the broken Common Tongue
“No, not a princess, she is a queen,” Olyvar chatted.
“In the Summer Isles, a princess and a widowed queen is the same person. My father was king, but he died when I was a babe. My princess mother was the one who raised me after my uncle took the throne. I loved my mother. I named my swanship for her after she died a few years ago.”
“Motherfunker?” Olyvar asked. “What is a funker?”
“Where I am from, fighting and dancing is called the same thing. We call it funk. We funk to fight, we funk to dance, and we also funk to love. And the skill of our funk we always inherit from our mother’s side. I got it from my mama.” The black single-eyed captain pleaded. “Yo got yo from yo mama too. ‘Motherfunker’ is just a homage to one’s mother for giving us this art of our body’s motions.”
Olyvar never knew his mother, but he was very intrigued to hear more about Samullu’s and their culture. They chatted for quite a while.
Olyvar thanked him for helping them. But Samullu insisted it was the right thing to do after hearing about the horrors of the Red Wedding. “The path of the righteous man is beset on all sides by the inequities of the selfish and the tyranny of evil men. Blessed is he who, in the name of charity and good will, shepherds the weak through the valley of the darkness. For he is truly his brother’s keeper and the finder of lost children. And I will strike down upon thee with great vengeance and furious anger those who attempt to poison and destroy my brothers! And yo will know I am the Captain when I lay my vengeance upon thee!”
Olyvar never knew the Black Sparrow was so pious to the gods of avengers.
Sharing rum together, Olyvar sung to him about his own story in depth. Captain Black Sparrow was impressed about his journey so far and he gave Olyvar a small jar of dirt. “This is soil from my empire back in the Summer Isle. I have a whole barrel of it to remind me of home. Here, take this other small gift as well.” He then took out a bird’s feather, long as a flute, bright and colorful. “We Summer Isle people have feathered cloaks, yo see it on all of us. But feathers like this one were meant for some of the bravest and baddest motherfunkers out there. I want yo to take it Ser Olyvar. Let it be yo warrior’s funk.”
Olyvar took it with his hand and gave it a warm stare. The feather was colored like a fading rainbow top to bottom, but the stem was yellow like a lemon. “Thank you.” The gifts were quite odd. By value it was not much, but it seemed like it meant a lot to the exiled prince, the type of gifts worth remembering.
“So what do yo need besides a miracle?” Samullu asked.
“Weapons. Bows and arrows. Lots of arrows.” Olyvar was serious.
“Aye, and I have a lot. Yo know, no one has ever done anything like what yo and the Blackfish’s men are about to do.”
“And that is why it will work.”
The plan was to allow Lord Edmure Tully and Queen Jeyne Stark to safely travel to Casterly Rock unmolested, under the command of Ser Forley Prester and his four hundred men. Lord Gawen Westerling and his son Rollam were to return to the Crag, but Lady Sybell was to stay with Jeyne, maintaining what deceptions she can conjure. Her bluff with Ser Jaime Lannister worked, earning the slightest trust from them before their escape at Casterly Rock. An attempt to rescue them on their path down the River Road would invite the Lannisters to execute the hostages on the spot, failing the objective’s purpose. To stealthily hunt down each soldier one by one would have proven even then, a mission of the impossible. Stirring fear in the hearts of the Lannister soldiers was the only solution, the effective psychological weapon. Ser Prester’s men have been haunted by the ghosts of the Brotherhood without Banners throughout the Riverlands, and the Blackfish would use that to his advantage. With the help of their fastest horse, Bubbles, mounted by Justin Smallister, a distant cousin to House Mallister of Seagard, he would tie empty nooses on trees ahead of Ser Forley’s route. The hope of the hoax would keep the Lannisters on edge, making it difficult to rest. Only when they reached the castle of Casterly Rock, they would drop their guards down, thinking the hard part was over. But on the exact evenfall on the day of their arrival, Lord Gawen Westerling and our small land forces, hidden in the eastern woods outside, would sound the trumpets and drums, drawing the weary soldiers to arms again. But the Blackfish was to infiltrate Casterly Rock from the western sea. Ser Rolph Spicer, our secret agent inside, will bond with Jeyne’s guards, drinking with them throughout their journey. Only on the hour of the escape, Ser Spicer would drug the guards’ ale, allowing them to fall asleep during the diversionary music. The Blackfish and his squad would provide armed escort, if needed. Ser Spicer would also help them navigate inside the caves, rescuing his niece Jeyne and their family back to the Motherfunker. By then, it would be too dark for the Lannisters to give chase into the ocean, if they even realized Queen Stark had flown off.
“I need twenty good men,” the Blackfish had demanded. A few hundreds of the remaining Stark loyalists and outlaws gathered at the docks, where the Motherfunker was anchored.
“And one more woman too!” the She-Bear crone proclaimed.
The men laughed in agreement as Ser Brynden continued. “I need volunteers only. Soldiers who want this fate to f*ck them from behind in their arses! For the twenty one of us, we will be in harm’s way, make no mistake about it. I do not expect us to be discovered, but if we were, our escape will not be easy like our brothers working the diversion in the woods. I need men quick on their feet, proficient with the bow, and skilled at close-quarter hand-to-hand combat. Who are my brave men that will be knocking on the Lannister’s doors?”
Ser Olyvar Frey thundered in first and raised his hand. Jeyne’s words echoed in his thoughts, Promise me Olyvar, promise me.
Alesander Frey surprised him. “No you fool! You are not a skilled fighter. Put your hand down!” Olyvar told his nephew.
“I am a grown man, and I will not miss this adventure for nothing,” Alesander protested to his uncle.
“You are just a singer.”
“Then I want to be a witness to this great deed and be the first singer of our new song.”
Olyvar could not stop his brother & nephew from doing something so stupid.
Ser Raynald Westerling the Seashell Knight raised his hand too, eager to save his sisters Jeyne and Eleyna, and his mother Sybell.
Others began to join. Some had their reasons, some had their vengeance, some just wanted to try something new.
Fess stepped up. He was a long lost uncle to Ser Addam Marbrand after a lengthy voyage at sea. But Ser Addam refused to believe him, denying him a small chunk of land near Ashemark that Fess was entitled to own. He called his uncle an imposter and casted him out of the region. Fess swore he was a Marbrand, and swore he would unleash a storm on their household if they did not give his piece of land back. To the future of reclaiming his name by shaming theirs, Fess Marbrand was recruited into our efforts against the Lannisters and their bannermen.
The Summer Islander, Ben, and his Westerosi-born son, Benjen, were farmers from the Neck. Years ago, Lord Rickard Stark had welcomed the immigrant and his wife, granting them farm lands to flourish in. They grew rice in the marsh and exported it from White Harbor. They were so grateful to House Stark that they quite frankly named their son “Benjen” for Lord Stark’s youngest child of similar age. Since then, their hard earned work with their rough black hands in the cold had paid off in prosperity. After being widowed, Ben and his son ran the farm, just the two of them … until a few Ironborn men took Moat Cailin and all their harvest this past year. Their will and pride refused to let them take it again. So instead of growing new rice, they let it wither away and left the land … trapping the jaws of the Ironborn to hunger. Now Ben and Benjen were reborn into Ser Brynden’s band, for the honor of House Stark. “With great honor comes a great ass whooping!” Ben had declared.
Jess and Jory were two brothers that served House Westerling as guards at the Crag, personally protecting the Westerling sisters, Jeyne and Eleyna. They had watched them grow up since birth. Participating in their rescue was their duty, a duty they took without hesitation for the girls who were like nieces to them.
Phyl was a crewmate of royal blood on the Motherfunker. Back on another Summer Isle kingdom, his older king brother passed away as his young prince nephew took fresh rule. After Phyl forbade his nephew-king to order an attack on a rival neighboring island, he screamed at him, “You are not my father!” and flew out of the throne room, slamming its double doors. Soon after, the boy-king ordered for his uncle’s exile. Free like a bird, Phyl flew away himself to a ship with his friend, the Black Sparrow, looking for a new adventure.
Sam, June, and Rico were all hard loyal Tully soldiers that were ready to follow the Blackfish to the end of the world. Sam used to be a tall fat leviathan of a man, until one day June told Sam, “You never had the making of a first-class athlete like Rico here.” From then on, Sam, offended, lost several stones over the years as the three served patriotically together to House Tully. Now tall, lean and muscular, Sam was a force not to be reckoned with. They nicknamed him Sam the Shredder, but for shredding his fat as his body was now packed with muscular meat.
The hedge knight Ser Barnabus the Goose volunteered along with his new squire Leo, a boy of fourteen, whom he met that same day. Goose was a tall man, big shoulders, wide hips with greying blond hair. Though he grew up as an orphan, Ser Barnabus often boasted about being the grandson of some legendary tall hedge knight that he never chanced to meet. The other orphans used to laugh at him, calling him the Useless Goose. But ever since he suited up in his knightly armor decades ago, Ser Barnabus assured he was a useful Goose helping the small folks around the Riverlands. Olyvar wondered if Barnabus was his real name, or if he was even a knight.
Leo’s older brothers wanted to join the action as well … so Mikkal, Raff, and Donal stepped forward. Their uncle Scrooge, a man in his fifties, will chip in his services too. The four brothers and uncle were known as the Pissa family. They once owned a tavern serving their mother’s recipe of baked thin crispy bread, spun circular into a flat pie, served with tomato sauce and cheese above. Their uncle Scrooge improved his sister’s recipe by adding sliced duck sausages on top of the cheese, and charging customers extra for the option. Olyvar and the men on the Motherfunker had sampled and enjoyed the cuisine they baked aboard. Captain Samullu claimed that pissa was indeed a tasty dish, and suggested adding slices of pineapples on top of it too. The Pissa brothers gave Samullu Jaqenssen a cold stare as if the gesture was treason to the recipe. Back when they owned the tavern with their mother, the family often boasted about their food to the point where their competitors despised them. Their opponents would try to mimic cooking the same dish, but others would complain it tasted no different than bread. Afraid of losing their revenue, they insulted their mother’s crispy dish by calling it “pissa,” slandering it by saying it tasted like piss. But the brothers took the name their enemies gave them and wore it like armor, never allowing it to hurt them. Raff returned their insult by calling their adversary’s food being something that comes out of a cow’s bung hole. That humiliation stuck. For a while, men and women from all over the Riverlands continued to rallied in long lines to the Pissa tavern for a delicious slice of pissa. Sadly one day, the Mountain and his men came to destroy their tavern during the war, and took their mother. They never saw her again. Despite the sad drama, the Pissa family were a cheerful bunch, save for their pessimistic uncle. Olyvar could only hope they would find their mother safe and sound some day.
On the first day aboard the Motherfunker, Leo had never been on a ship his entire life. He bolted to the stern of the galley, stood on the middle rail with his arms spread out and screamed, “I’m the king of the world!”
Olyvar had to grab the blond teen down before he fell overboard. “Nice try Leo,” Olyvar said. “But you are too lowborn to be royalty. You are better off marrying a queen to be a king, or at least start with a princess.”
Ser Barnabus the Goose appeared and offered his help. He was in need of a squire for some reason, and Leo was quite eager. “Leo, I’m going to teach you how to live.” Goose swung his arm around the teenager’s neck and rested it there. “You want to be a king and win the ladies? Learn how to squire for a knight first. Unchain and fetch me my stallion from the docks, I’ll show you a trick. I’ll show you how to ride it on this rocking ship!” Leo did as he was ordered.
“And when will I ever need that skill?” Leo questioned as he brought the horse up to the deck from the ramp.
“What was it you were looking for again on this journey? Your destiny? Your death?” Goose mounted.
“Naked princesses,” Leo said.
“Well this move would make any maiden, royal or lowborn, shed their clothes off for you.” The knight pulled down the reins as the stallion stood tall on its two hind legs, looking like a work of art meant for eternal statues of the gods.
Samullu appeared and asked Leo, “Is that Goose on a horse? On my boat? Why is Goose on a horse on my boat?!” The stallion came down, hooves thundering the top of the deck.
“Aye Captain, Ser Goose was teaching me how to pick up women.”
“Shiitt Leo, that’s all you had to say.” Samullu wrapped his right arm around the neck of the youth and offered his counsel, his left hand danced in the air as he spoke to solidify his argument. “If yo want naked women, f*ck land. Don’t be a knight. Be a captain of a galley. The best pick up line to catch any woman yo can, is ‘I own a ship’.” Samullu raised his bearded chin. “After this mission is over, come with me and we’ll sail the seas. Meet women from all over the world. And they love a captain. Do yo concur? Leo, each lady is just a flower, another rose by another name that smell just as sweet, waiting to be plucked.”
Goose winced at the word and protested. “The only maids you meet sailing seas are mermaids. Don’t be fooled by the Black Sparrow. Some of them may be pretty on the top half, but you won’t like what they got below. It probably stinks down there too. But the captain doesn’t mind, he seems to enjoy bedding mermaids!”
Whether sea, air or land … the Black Sparrow or Goose … Leo will probably have to fly with one of them after the mission, Olyvar thought.
The night before the rescue, the raiders and the crewmen drunkenly sang and cheered to music, rum, ale and pissa. Drowning in the glory of their task on the morrow, they reminisce about the harsh archery and lethal weapons training Lord Glover had given them over the past weeks back on land … while questioning how large Lady Mormont’s sacs truly were. Lady Roslin Tully, approached everyone and asked if they would write their names on the book she held. “It’s for the memories,” she said. They all did. A signature on each page for each man and Maege. Some drew their own personal coat of arms. When it was Olyvar’s turn, he hesitated about sketching the two towers. He wanted to separate himself from the murderous lore of House Frey. He decided to draw his towers, with a Stark wolf running on top of the bridge, and a Tully trout jumping below it. He signed his name, Ser Olyvar of House Frey, squire to the late King Robb Stark, knighted by Ser Brynden Tully.
He wondered if he will be written into history as a great knight some day. A knight that could not save his king, Olyvar thought sadly. He would not be the only one though. Word had travelled for Ser Loras Tyrell, the Knight of Flowers, and his gallant assault at Dragonstone. He was gravely wounded, but no word on this brave knight’s final fate. Like Olyvar, Ser Loras had failed to protect his first King, Renly Baratheon, a man that the Knight of Flower was rumored to have truly loved. Though his King was gone, he continued to be bathe in the glory of battle. Despite being on the opposing side of the war, Ser Olyvar would be gay if he had the chance to meet Ser Loras, if he still lives, chatting with him about the kings they loved and lost.
Later on that night, Captain Samullu Jaqenssen shared a drunken game of cvyasse with Ser Barnabus for a golden dragon. When Goose doubled down after his first loss, he fell again, owing the Black Sparrow a pair of golden dragons by the end of it. When Samullu demanded Goose to pay up his reward immediately, Goose pretended not to understand his loose Summer Isle accent, giving him a wild chase.
“Wat?”
“Yo loose Goose, yo owe me the gold,” the Captain demanded in his queer Common Tongue.
“Wat?”
“The gold yo fool. The gold! Yo pay me.”
“Wat?”
“Wat country yo from?”
“Wat?”
“Do they not speak the Common Tongue in Wat?”
“Wat?”
“Common Tongue mother Goose!”
“Wat?”
“Say wat again! I dare yo, I double dare yo! I’ll throw yo overboard off the Motherfunker!”
Goose paused for a moment, until his pride could not resist. “Wat? Wat? Wat? Wat? Wat?” Goose said ‘what‘ so many times, it sounded like he was quacking, each one louder than before. “Wat? Wat? Wat? Wat? Wat?”
In a nick of fury, Samullu Jaqenssen flipped over the cyvasse table, stood up and drew his short blade. His remaining good eye raged like a storm, as steam seeped through the black leather patch of the other. “Yo cold ass honking Goose! Yo son o’ a wh*re! Yo bandit! I will gut yo from balls to brains to see what gooses is made of. I better find yo sacs golden before I take yo skull to gild gold! Either way, I will have my gold from yo!”
Goose suddenly comprehended everything, stood up with all his height and threatened. “Goodness gracious, do you kiss your mother with that mouth? Go ahead and try, but you will only find below me great balls of fire!” He grabbed his own crotch and pumped it once into the air. “And after your failed attempt, I will claw out your last remaining eye, leaving you blind for the rest of your sorry life!”
The others flocked towards the scene, holding the two back as they inched towards each other.
Jess tried to stop them. “Gods, have mercy!”
Sam the Shredder intervened as well. “That is enough! I want you two to stop!”
Jory said, “Cut it out!”
“Will yo shut up!” screamed Phyl, who had hustled a wager on the game.
Mikkal grabbed the drunken Goose, threw him to the floor, and told him to just beat it.
At the end, they all just laugh it off like all drunk men do. Smiling, spilling ale out of their cups, retching out into the sea the rum they drank, before drinking some more again. They were having one last good time before the mission. But today they had a job to do.
The twenty men, Lady Maege, and Ser Rolph continued up the paths in the lightless caves of Casterly Rock, huffing and puffing, but still silent as much as they could hold. One loud word at the wrong place at the wrong time may be their doom. In single file, the group followed Ser Spicer’s point with one lit torch. The stench was terrible and the dampness made it worse. Guarding the rear, Olyvar’s eyes were clouded in darkness at times where the torchlight was too far ahead to shine back. He relied on Ser Goose in front of him to lead the way, as Goose relied on Leo for the same.
[Part 3]

This is a post to raise consciousness around this aspect of the TTI because it doesn't seem to get much discussion, and the legal industry, especially the judges and magistrates, really need to hear from people about how they are failing to live up to decent ideals of justice.
Involuntary Commitment, "IVC," is common in every state except maybe Connecticut, and advocates are pushing for more of this kind of option. More info on that advocacy here (multiple trigger warnings) https://www.madinamerica.com/2021/06/letter-advocate-involuntary-treatment/.
IVC removes pretty much all the rights of the patient and their parents. And pretty much all it takes is a few magic words on a piece of paper by a provider, notarized, and presented to a magistrate, few of whom even read it. They just sign and done.
I just went through this with my own child. I was told by someone I used to trust that a particular hospital in my area would be judicious in how they treated them, and would not send them to poor facilities. In fact, they IVC'd my daughter, forcing her through transport by sheriff, strip searches, having her personal belongings referred to as "contraband," well, this is /troubledteens, everyone here knows how awful this process is. I was livid when I discovered they had ivc'd my child.
The irony is I used to work in this field as a lawyer, defending folks from IVC. At that time, hospitals were a little slower to invoke it. But even so, I didn't really understand what was happening, and also, most of the facilities where my clients were short-term, community based, staffed by decent people.
But even then, winning an IVC case is next to impossible. The legal requirements are practically zero, as in, a simple statement "the respondent poses a potential threat to themselves or others" is pretty much all that is needed. And bam, you now have a permanent record as dangerous person. They don't have to provide notice to you or your parents. They don't have to allow a second opinion by a doctor of your choosing. You now have no rights, your parents (assuming they were not the ones petitioning) have no rights to your care.
A large part of the problem here is magistrates, folks who are not always even lawyers, are told just to sign these things without question. There is no-one at that juncture to advocate for the sick person, they are completely at the mercy of this sick system, and usually have no idea what is happening.
Other awful things about this: the respondent does not get to look at their own file, neither do parents. Somehow this is not considered a due process violation.
There's no oversight. Maybe in some states, but most don't think twice about it. Nobody does any followup to determine whether the IVC actually did any good.
Judges don't care. They are more concerned about being the judge who denied an IVC who later killed a bunch of people than they are with the collective harm of thousands (tens of thousands? hundreds? who knows?) kids who don't deserve to be treated like criminals.
It keeps getting easier. In NC recent overhaul of the law means pretty much anyone who takes an easy training is qualified to examine for the purposes of an "emergency."
Even in those cases where maybe possibly it makes sense to ivc someone, there is now an adversarial relationship between the patient (and, we hope, their family) and their care providers.
Call to Action: Any solution to the overall TTI program really needs to include addressing this injustice. In the upcoming senate hearing, if you have been involved in an IVC be sure to include how little it helped and how much harm it did. Ask Judges why they never deny IVCs, and how they challenge whether examiners (rarely are they doctors or even specialized PAs) are actually telling the truth, or are competent. Ask magistrates why they are not doing their jobs with some diligence.
Ask care providers how much harm it causes to create a legal adversarial relationship with a patient. Most will deny that an ivc does that, they are dead wrong, and you can direct them to ask a lawyer if they won't take your word for it. And then ask the question again. What patient will trust a provider who orders them to be treated like a criminal? What person would do that?
And we really need to push back on what qualifies for an ivc. There needs to be substantial evidence of an imminent threat of serious physical injury or more. And even when there is an ivc, the reduction in rights should be highly limited and tailored only to the very immediate need, and never completely curtailed. There should be a requirement to seek informed consent nevertheless, and a right to redress for over-treatment.
I am angry as fuck about this. As a lawyer, I'm ashamed of the dereliction of my profession. As a citizen, I'm appalled at our failure as a society to address this issue. As a human, I'm mortified and how horribly we are treating people in emotional distress. Matthew 25:40 et seq.
It's too late for us, but maybe with diligence and effort, our children and grandchildren will not have to suffer as we have.

Nami (Illustration by u/Bene-dict)

Nami

Gender: Woman
Race: Triton
Class: Barbarian
Subclass: Storm Herald
Alignment: Chaotic Neutral
Height: 5’0”
Weight: 136 lbs
Birthday: May 8th
Age: 31
Favorite Food: Fish Head Stew
Favorite Color: Seafoam Green
Theme Songs: Mikky Ekko - Who Are You, Really?, Phantogram - Black Out Days

Backstory - Clearwater

The following spoiler warnings are for my campaigns group, except for Monet's player.
After leaving her old home in the ocean at 21, my character came to the surface and took on odd jobs like deep sea fishing and loading transport ships in Clearwater, a port city in my DM's homebrew world. During one of these jobs, a fisherman refused to pay her fairly, calling her "half fish." Being a barbarian and all, she wasn't going to take this lightly so in retaliation, she destroyed his ship and stole the anchor, which she now wields as her main weapon. This act caught the attention of the Iron Syndicate, who sought her out for her potential as a useful grunt.
Believing she was being recruited as an underground fighter, Nami signed a seven year contract with the Iron Syndicate, unaware they intended to use her as a discreet executioner to eliminate targets in their underground fighting ring to make deaths look accidental. Nami, as she was known outside the ring, adopted the fighting name "The Tsunami" and she became a niche underground fighter celebrity, popular with the dock workers at the wharf.
The Iron Syndicate provided her with an apartment by the wharf, where she spent her time learning how to fish and cook her catches. She starts by chopping off the fishes' heads, which she saves until she has enough to make her favorite dish, fish head stew. Next, she boils the fish to remove the skin, which she sets aside to later fry into crispy fish skin chips. She uses the fish meat to prepare a variety of dishes, including fish tacos, fish and chips, fisherman's breakfast, and sourdough bread bowl with seafood chowder. Nami spends much of her free time around the wharfs, forming strong friendships with the local fishermen. She also frequents a nearby tavern, where she often drinks and intervenes to stop fights that break out. Nami is fiercely upset by a scathing review of the tavern published in the newspaper, unaware that it was written by Monet, another member of their group.
As her reputation as a fighter grew, the Iron Syndicate decided it was time to use her for their true purpose, thinking that her established status would make any accidents look more believable. They tasked her with killing her next opponent in the ring, convincing her it was the lesser evil. In reality, the target was likely just a business rival. Trusting the organization, Nami went through with the kill but immediately regretted it afterward. Rumors started spreading about "The Tsunami's" strength and her lethal prowess in the ring, further adding to her reputation.
Some time after this event, Detective Monet, our Shadar-kai Divination Wizard from The Cursed Lands, began investigating the Iron Syndicate. However, her efforts were cut short when she was caught by the organization. Interrogated and providing little to no useful information, they deemed her expendable, as she was not officially affiliated with any faction but rather a freelancer. Consequently, the Iron Syndicate threw her into the ring as Nami’s next opponent, intending for her to meet her demise 'accidentally.'
However, burdened by guilt from the previous innocent death she caused, Nami sought out Monet before the match, grappling with her conscience. Sensing Nami's reluctance to commit murder, Monet devised a plan: Nami would stage a fatal blow to Monet, faking her death, allowing them to escape together afterward. Since then, Nami has been evading Iron Syndicate, knowing they would not take kindly to their celebrity fighter not completing her contract and helping an investigator escape with information on the Iron Syndicates criminal activities. By the start of the campaign, four months have passed since Nami fled from the Iron Syndicate, still owing five more years on her contract. During this time, she collaborated with Detective Monet on various cases.
The next spoiler warning is for my entire campaign group. I'M TALKING TO YOU MONET'S PLAYER. lol

Before Clearwater:

Nami, once known as Luculia Stormtide, grew up in a tight-knit triton community beneath the ocean's surface, locked in a conflict against malevolent elementals threatening to overrun the material plane. Her parents were humble kelp farmers, so Luculia had to work ecceptionally hard to become a paladin at the temple. After achieving her dream to be a paladin, she was on the cusp of a prestigious promotion, deeply committed to safeguarding her people. Alongside her dedication to duty, she nurtured a loving relationship with her longtime girlfriend, Nimue, a druid, and cherished the impending prospect of marriage with her.
However, tragedy struck when a deadly illness ravaged her community, leaving her no choice but to venture to the surface in search of aid. Despite saving her people by bringing a healer back, her actions breached a strict law prohibiting external contact, leading to her exile and the stripping of her identity and name, Luculia Stormtide. At the age of 21, she lost everything dear to her: her family, her beloved partner, her community, her status as a paladin, and even her ability to wield divine magic.
The betrayal she experienced has left Nami deeply scarred, fostering major trust issues. Reluctant to offer her help without assurances, she often insists on upfront payment before committing to any task, a measure to shield herself from further betrayal. She now expects everyone to cheat her, especially those who get close to her, such as Monet, since they can hurt her the most. Nami sometimes fantasizes about returning home to destroy various buildings, including the temple, but she refrains, as part of her still holds onto hope. Although Nami is now very cynical, she continues to live by the wharf near the ocean, hoping someone will return and welcome her back to her old home.
At the start of the campaign, it will mark a decade since Nami last laid eyes on her old home in the ocean, having embraced Clearwater as her new residence. Nimue, Nami's Fiancé, would hardly recognize the person Nami has become today. During the time she was known as Luculia, she epitomized femininity, kindness, loyalty, and quietude. However, exile and exploitation have left her jaded, indifferent to social decorum, distrusting, and prone to vulgarity.
About using my art: I am totally cool with you using this image for your own triton or fish person in your own private campaign! However, please do not claim the character design and art to be yours or use it for monetary gain. Thank you!

Introduction

Hello fellow dead raisers, today I want to talk about something I am passionate about. Which if you can't tell by the title is the thorns Necromancer. I am not entirely sure what makes me gravitate to the niche, weird, and mundane builds in video games. But here I am so let's' get started.

What is Thorns Necromancer

Thorns Necromancer is the use of Thorns to deal damage and clear content in Diablo 4. It is a quite powerful build but because of its quirky playstyle requires some patience and fortitude to really see shine. What I mean by this is that the build can demolish a lot of the game with ease but as you climb higher requires bosses to auto attack which is hit or miss "ba dum tish". Unlike the Barbarian we split our stat investment across quite a few things to scale our damage up. So at times it can feel a little less than linear.

Gearing Golem

Damage

• Golem Inherits Thorns "G.I.T.": The most valuable damage stat for the build by far. There is no way to get a higher amount of thorns. "Yes, I did the math."
• Minions Inherit Thorns "M.I.T.": Worse than Golem but still viable if you are running a Bone Golem / Defender hybrid build. On a Golem Focused build you basically only want G.I.T. and any of the other four tempers is less than optimal or bricked.
• Thorns: Directly increases the amount of thorns we gain from G.I.T.
• Armor: We gain 70% of the GOLEMS armor as thorns. This is a bonus value so while we do focus in on this stat a lot it does not interact with G.I.T. and as such is not our highest priority.
• Total Armor Percent: Increases the amount of thorns we get from armor substantially it is basically G.I.T. at 70% of its value.
• Note: I have a spreadsheet comparing each investment path. All of the stats listed above with GA and Masterworking are fairly close to each other in a final outcome with G.I.T. being the most impactful. However because they are fairly close, your damage will be similar so long as you get all of these desired stats on gear.

Defense

• Maximum Life: We can never have enough of this stat.
• Damage Reduction: Take every single source obtainable.
• Armor: You will always be over the armor cap because once again it gives us damage.
• All Resistance: 70% is ideal but if we can fit in an incense to boost it even a little it helps.
• Note: With this build your Golem is never really going to be the one to die. You basically need to focus on being able to keep up and not get one shot.

Paragon

• Minion Armor: This is a net damage boost as it increases the amount of armor our golem receives and in effect thorns from the taunt on bone golem.
• Golem Armor: Same as Minion Armor it is a priority.
• Minion Damage Reduction: Take all the sources of this.
• Warrior Glyph: This glyph is good early as it gives us Minion Armor but is bad late because any other multiplier will end up giving you more damage. It has more value if you are running the Hybrid version of this build.

Gearing Defender

Damage

• Thorns: Because the defenders do not scale with armor we can ignore it after the cap which open us up to focusing entirely on Thorns.
• Warrior Inherit Thorns "W.I.T.": The lower scaling version of G.I.T. Which is still our go to and most highly desired stat.
• Minions Inherit Thorns "M.I.T.": Worse than Warrior but still viable and actually better if you are running a Bone Golem / Defender hybrid build.

Defense

• Maximum Life: Same as the Golem, the more the merrier.
• Damage Reduction: Just as before we want as much as feasibly possible.
• Armor: We only want to hit the armor cap. We gain no benefit with a defender focus as they do not get armor from thorns which I feel should be changed.
• All Resistance: 70% but once again incense helps a lot or any max resistance total increase.

Paragon

• Minion Damage Reduction: We need to take all sources of this.

Fishing

• What is Fishing?: Fishing is where you run content in the hopes of being matched against a boss or monster type that is an ideal fight for your build.
• The Best Fish: Anything that auto attacks or casts spells that deal Direct Damage.
• Scourge of the Land: This is your golden goose, the cream of the crop, the best possible boss you can get in the pits. He can trigger thorns at an alarming rate and will be what you need to climb.
• Why do we Fish?: Some bosses simply don't auto attack often. This can result in you not really doing damage... like at all sometimes. So you will find yourself leaving Pits where you don't get an ideal boss type because you simply can't kill them in time.
• How can we Avoid Fishing?: Pop an elixir of holy bolts on bosses that spawn minions but don't auto attack often. You will still be able to kill them but depending on your mind set on the Elixir it is a meh choice for true progression "my opinion".
• Pit Level I Have to Start Fishing?: Around 100 in my experience. Though if you use an Elixir of holy bolts you can probably ignore it until pit level 110.

Interactions

• Summoning Damage: Does not affect thorns damage. DO NOT TAKE THIS STAT!
• Golem Damage: Unlike Summoning Damage, it does work with Golem Thorns. "What you shoot for while min maxing on a Golem focused build and fairly easy to hit."
• Thorns While Fortified: Your minions can not fortify so this isn't a double dip for Golem. Honestly this shouldn't even be on the Thorns Army Temper it is useable starting out but later on any decent piece of gear counts as a brick.
• Minions Inherit Thorns: The worst possible option for both focuses except a Hybrid Bone Golem / Defender build. Generally you take this in place of bricking an item but you will have to replace it if you are playing Defender or Golem focus eventually.
• Skeletal Warriors Inherit Thorns: Great for Defenders. A brick for Bone Golem builds.
• Skeletal Mages Inherit Thorns: I have no idea who thought this was ok. It is a worthless temper on any variation of thorns build for necromancers. It is literally only here as an additional way to brick your gear. Someone just wasn't thinking "I have to assume" as the other conspiracy would be they did this to intentionally brick your items.
• Golem Inherits Thorns: The best possible temper you can put on a golem Build. On a Defender focus it is basically a brick. On a Hybrid build it is useable until you get a M.I.T. roll.
• Vulnerable Damage: Works with Thorns.
• All Damage: Works with Thorns.
• Damage to Cursed: Works with Thorns.
• Damage to Close: Works with Thorns. "The easiest damage to temper as anything from this manual is usable if not ideal. I actually recommend people go for this on all thorns variations until they get a 3 GA item or are min maxing."
• Damage to Distant: Works with Thorns.
• Weapon Damage: Doesn't matter in the slightest. I like to use a Wand or Dagger for the lucky hit chance or damage to close.
• Critical Strike Chance / Damage: Doesn't work on thorns this season as we have no powers that allow thorns to critically strike.
• Unyielding Commander's Aspect: Works with thorns damage.
• Aspect of Reanimation: Works with thorns damage.
• Blighted Aspect: Works with thorns damage.
• Aphotic Aspect: Does not affect thorns damage with defenders in my testing. This also means that Gloom and Terror do not work with thorns. This makes sense as it isn't an auto attack and thorns only deals physical damage.
• Bloodgetter's Aspect: Works with thorns damage.
• Needleflare Aspect: Works with thorns damage on minions and is one of our best aspects.
• Intelligence: Works with thorns damage.
• Supernatural Blight: Works with thorns damage.
• Skeletal Warrior Mastery: Works with thorns damage.
• Golem Mastery: Works with thorns damage.
• Fueled by Death: Works with thorns damage.
• Death's Embrace: Works with thorns damage. "One of the best passive skills we can take."
• Amplify Damage: Works with thorns damage.
• Hellbent Commander: Works with thorns damage.
• Cult Leader "Legendary Paragon Node": Works with thorns damage.
• Cold Mage Sacrifice: Works with thorns damage after the recent bug fix.
• Spiked Armor: A must pick up for every thorns build. The Armor gain is ADDITIVE not Multiplicative! It works the same as all other sources of percent total armor we get from gear.
• Total Armor While Golem is Active: DOES NOT increase or double dip in the amount of thorns your bone golem gets from armor!
• Ring of Mendeln: Early this ring is amazing and late it is still good? I would say you can replace this with aspect of innercalm or elements or something. The reason I use it in my builds is because no one wants them and they are cheap and easy to min max.
• Blood Moon Breeches: I am not sure if thorns is applying the curse or not but the uptime is nearly 100%. Dealers choice here, I like them but you might hate them. They are however one of the largest unique sources of damage reduction we can slot and helps a bit later on.
• Razorplate: This always outperforms golem mastery on a chest piece. You can however run Golem Mastery on your chest early until you find a good Razorplate.

Builds

Solo Golem: https://maxroll.gg/d4/plannexf9bh0wj#2

• Note: I consider this to be the highest damage variation.

Defender: https://maxroll.gg/d4/planneqy8np023#1

• Note: Fairly close to golem just because we can take more damage and damage reduction / utility. Even though we don't have armor from thorns which makes the gap kind of massive we have up to 7 defenders which can apply thorns when hit with AOE direct damage. Still quite a damage gap.

Hybrid: https://maxroll.gg/d4/plannekp92g02r

• Note: A fun variation that tries to make the most of thorns. It just comes a little shorter than Solo Golem.

Golem Thorns Spreadsheet: https://i.imgur.com/lHoixdY.png

• Note: This is specifically for comparison of thorns values with the Bone Golem. Skeletal Defenders cap out at around 120k - 135k Thorns depending on your build path.

Suggestions

• Stagger Fix: Please give us a means to do damage while things are stunned or staggered. It really is horrible not being able to deal damage while things can't auto attack.
• Thorns from Armor: I think you should give this to the Defenders taunt as well. It would do a lot to allow us to hybridize the build.
• Boss Autos: For the love of all that is sacred please make all the bosses auto attack more. Sea Hag and Tomb Lord are especially horrific.
• Auto While Staggered: If you could please change bosses to instead of being stunned, auto attack, and be tauntable while staggered? This fundamentally fixes every issue we have with thorns builds both for the Necromancer and Barbarian. Like this would be chef's kiss levels of excellence.
• Thorns Army Manual: Please remove thorns while fortified and skeletal mage inherits thorns. It is bad enough you have 5 different options but having 2 of those 5 result in a brick is hyper levels of rage inducing.
• Ring of Mendeln: Please change this unique so that it empowers minion damage after a set amount of time in combat or after 6 attacks. It would be really cool if this was a damage multiplier that worked for thorns and attacks which would make it viable across all build paths for minions as a whole.
• Warrior Glyph: This needs to be a damage multiplier like golem is. It is effectively worthless "Except for thorns golem" now that you lowered the cap to 9230.
• Mage Glyph: This needs to be a damage multiplier like golem and once again the minion resistance is worthless in every situation now that they get 100% of our stats.
• Minion Resistance Paragon Nodes: While we still have a use for minion armor, minion resistance is never going to be anything but a dead stat now that they get 100% of our stats.
• Thorns from Maximum Life: Speaking of Minion Resistance. If you could allow us to get thorns from maximum life instead of armor, you could replace Minion Armor and Golem Armor in our paragon as well.
• SUMMONING DAMAGE: Am I a little salty that this doesn't work with thorns? Oh yeah. Am I incredibly salty that I tempered all of my gear before finding this out. You bet your ass. I am begging you to fix this so that we can take this temper and paragon nodes for it.

Conclusion

Thorns Necromancer is quite strong and while I stopped pushing with it at around 105. Others like Ranny who is much better at the build have gotten into the 110's I think possibly 120's? If you had a fully optimized thorns golem build I could see it maybe going even higher if you could fish the right bosses and survive. Because the Bone Golem can hit thorns values into the 290,000 range the damage can scale to absurd levels on the right bosses. I am really hopeful that we will see a more refined and bug fixed version of this build in season 5.
I would also like to state that I am not all knowing. If you find something that contradicts what I have found please let me know. Also, Ranny is a much better thorns player than I am. I take his word as gospel when it involves thorns. I want to give a shoutout to Seetod once again for being the Minion G.O.A.T. I couldn't of tested a lot of these things or found as many bugs without his help.

Hello all! This was a short fic I meant to write much sooner, while the lore and bits and bobs of every Primarch and their SO was still being sorted. So that’s why Rose here doesn’t have any descriptors as to what they look like.
As for why it’s only coming out now and not sooner, I lost the file and had to dig quite a bit to retrieve it. Guess I’ll be making back ups more often. That aside, enjoy.
——————
The Nails tore at Atalanta’s mind more than usual that night. Pounding, pulsing, throbbing aches of agony lancing through her skull, reducing her vision to a blurry mess at the best of times, or driving her nearly blind at the worst.
Her Primarch physiology was waging a war that it couldn’t hope to win. Too much had been taken, too much reduced to a wet slurry in her skull to properly mend. Too much of her mind left gnarled and furrowed with scars, just like her.
Another bolt of pain forced her upright with an agonized snarl, veins bulging with strain around her neck and head as her teeth ground against one another. One hand palmed her forehead, fingers curled into a claw-like fixture, the other gripping the light sheets with enough force to tear. Tears gathered at the very edges of her eyes as even her almost impossibly high pain tolerance met its limits.
She didn’t even notice the small figure next to her stirring, not till she felt the cool hands of her Rose gently grasping her clenched fist. That cool touch wrenched Atalanta’s eyes open, a warrior’s snarl building in her chest. Yet that anger cooled as her wrathful eyes took in the sight of her beautiful Rose.
Peace washed over her in those silent moments. The aching of the Nails dulled and Atalanta took a short breath she had denied herself unknowingly. There was no explanation as to how Rose did it for her, not that she ever needed one. That look, that one gaze into Rose’s eyes became her center, and allowed Atalanta to refocus herself.
The Primarch’s shoulders relaxed as tension ebbed away from her. Not all of it, but enough for her to remember peace. The Nails ached, but it was the deep respect, that deep love for Rose that washed over her thoughts now. The Nails could be smothered, and that’s what mattered most.
Atalanta allowed herself a more relaxed sigh as she fell back into the embrace of the bed, her skin chilled by the sheen of sweat the Nails bestowed upon her. One mammoth arm scooped Rose closer to her, skin prickling from the much colder being she now cradled against herself. With Rose, a blissful numbness overcame the warrior as she was lulled off to her meager dreams.
Those dreams were of her favorite things. The cool breezes, the chill of fresh water, the smell of her Rose, their skin against hers. Her bouts against Rose, and the pride she felt at each improvement they made.
Dreams of everything that could be.
“My Master demands service of you. Rise, His Red Angel.”
Her mind snapped to attention. Bolter rounds screamed overhead, the air lay thick with smoke and the smell of death. Gore clung to her hands, her weapons. Her armor lay splattered with it, a field of corpses surround her feet.
How did…?
The Nail’s ripped at her brain, forcing a bestial snarl to escape her as her vision went black. Yet they brought clarity as adrenaline surged through her system.
Yes, she remembered now. She and her legion, her beasts of war, her World Eaters were laying waste to a world. Around them lay other bodies, both Astarte and mortal. Some were clad in the gore drenched regalia of her warriors. Some, the polish gray and dull crimson of the Word Bearers.
Yes, she and Aurelia had been sent to this world, to rain death and doom upon its people. Her vision cleared from the last of the Nail’s induced blindness, treating her to the full scope of the massacre they wrought. But beneath all the death lay the bodies of their enemies.
The broken blue of the Ultramarines, sons of Juno.
Calth, she recalled. That was the name of the planet they were at.
Her hands gripped her weapons tighter as she prepared to move. Yet she could not. Her legs refused to move, despite her efforts. A grunt of frustration growled out of her as she tried, yet she had become rooted to this spot.
She then felt a wetness rolling down her cheeks. It was not the hot, putrid wetness of gore that she expected. It was cold, cold enough that she felt the bitter paths they trail across her cheeks before falling. Her vision was blurring again, yet it was not the Nails this time that did so.
Tears. These were tears! But why? Carnage had never driven her to tears before, nor should it now. Her gaze lowered, and her heart seized with iced dread.
Amongst the bodies and metal, there was only one corpse that retained any distinguishability. Laid out, almost deliberately so, with open arms and limply holding a battered and blackened flower… was her Rose.
Dread ate her heart, panic seizing her lungs as horror took root. She sank to her knees, her weapons thrown to the side as a hand gingerly reached towards her Rose’s fallen body. Her bottom lip quivered, tears running freely down her cheeks in small falls.
She knew what had happened. There was no denying the wounds that crossed Rose’s chest. Those deep furrows could have only been carved by her weapons.
Horrified she looked down at her hands, a silent scream escaping her as she saw her drenched hands.
How!? How could this have happened!? Why was Rose here!?
The world around Atalanta went numb. She could feel the Nail’s eating at her brain, yet it was not pain she felt as they did. This was something stronger. Something colder. Something more primeval.
Loss.
She was dimly aware of a voice calling to her. Dimly aware of a large figure, eyes glowing with power as a spiked maul smashed aside foes. Aurelia.
Atalanta heard nothing of what she said. The only thing she could hear was the ear bleeding howl of agony she bellowed out. Her heart squeezed as loss took her.
The air crackled with power. It was filled with whispers of Those That Should Not Be. Atalanta vaguely processed that Aurelia was chanting something. Yet her agonized screams drowned everything out, as she was swallowed whole by a storm of ruin.
Another being had watched the events unfold, and they smiled as things came together. The Red Angel had been claimed, just as his Masters had intended. The script carved into his skin twisted and warped with his smile.
The dim halls Erebus walked was filled with his laughter.

Hello everyone. I'll try to keep this short, but I'm honestly a little nervous to put myself out there and make this post, so I ask that you please bear with me.
My relationship with Maya culture is both academic and a little involved with where I live. I'm an archaeologist and a linguist who wants to specialize in both the Classic Period and modern Maya. Most of my archaeology education surrounded the Maya, as did my field school excavations. I'm presently doing my literature review for research proposals for PhD programs in linguistics and archaeology. I'm really passionate about educating others about the Maya. I'm especially passionate about bringing attention to the local Comunidad (most people don't even know they're here, in our own local community), their public events and conferences, and their social media, where they post about their struggles and those of other Comunidads.
Lately, I've been thinking a lot about ideas for my first tattoo. I keep coming back to a date that's very important to me, but represented as a Long Count date. I think it's a cool representation of something both important to me and something I'm passionate about. However, I'm hesitant to do this because the calendar was considered sacred, or at the very least the tzolk'in glyphs were (or possibly still are: I admit I am not very knowledgeable about the modern Maya's relationship with it). In previous threads on the topic, most Maya said tattoos were fine and were cultural appreciation, not appropriation. However, I've never seen anyone ask about a Long Count tattoo, so I thought I would ask here. As an academic, the last thing I want to do is be disrespectful to the culture I want my research to serve. I also want to wear my appreciation on my sleeve, literally, and if it also represents something deeply important to me, all the better.
Is this a good option, or should I rethink this?

Look. I know I'm in the work of starting my first day at work this week (WOOHOOOOO). But can somebody tell me why the actual fuck companies say they "carefully considered" you and don't even speak a word to you before handing you a rejection letter? Sounds like a damn cop-out to me. This is how the letter would go if they were honest:
Hi [candidates name],
We thank you for your interest in our company. But not really, we don't care. We understand we spoke absolutely no words to you about this position, but we'll pretend we looked at your resume for more than two fucking seconds, and through those two seconds, we carefully (not really) considered you. We also understand that you are overqualified for this position, but we're gonna give Ms. Bitch-attitude a job over here, instead of you, because her mother is a part of our admin board. We will make sure to throw your application straight to the shred-- we mean, in our files. Again, we wish you luck in your job search and hope you find a job before you starve, but we really don't because we already have a steady income and could give no fucks about anyone except ourselves.
Fake-ass regards,
[terrible company]