Wishlist
I dont care if the melee are 2 star or a 3rd star random
I accept bobblehead and flux
Electro enforcer- Bss
Drill- BSS
Gamma- QFFR15R QFFR15V QFFR25V
Lmg- BFFR90 BE90 QE90 QFFR90
Laser NU- BFFR15R BFFR15V BFFR25V
Cryo- QFFR90 BFFR90
Ultracite gatling- BFFR90 BFFR15V
Alien disintegrator- BFFR15V BFFR15R
Apperel Glowing mask all of them Responder uniform
Weapon to Trade
Flamer- TSFFR15R
Lmg- TRFFR25V AAE
Gatling Gun- AA50C25V
Lv30 Q50C25V
Cryo- QRAP90
Pepper shaker- TS2525
Gat laser Ultracite- VFFR15V JFFR90
Auto grenade- BFFR1A
Rocket- B50VHC90
Pump action- VFFR90
Combat shot- QE1P VFFR15R JFFR15V
D-Barrel- VE1A
Powder rifle- AAE50DR
Lever- BERE15R
Railway- Q50C50DR
Handmade- VRAP90 QE90
Combat rifle- BRAP25V
Fixer- ZE25V TrE15v ME1P
Epr- GFFR90 B25AIM1P(True Flamer barrel)
EPR stock reflex True barrel- QRAP15R
Plasma rifle- BFFR250 Jug50C25V
Snub .44 pistol- AAE15R QE15R
Gamma- QFFRSF QFFRFM
Bow- F50C25V TR50C25V
Chainsaw- BRAP25V
Golf club- AASS25V
Baseball- AASS90
Tire iron- BSSS
Knuckles- AASS25V
Miner gauntlet- BSS
Bone hammer- NSSS
Revolution sword- BSS
Rolling pin- BSS15V
Fireaxe- BSS25V AASS15V B40P15V
Gulper smacker- BSS25v
Power fist- B40PA25V
Deathclaw- JSS25V
Apperel
Pink asylum
Chem
79 Berry mentats
757 Grape mentats
876 Mentats
2 orange mentats
250 big gun bobble
103 leaders
Plan
Alien disintegrator x2
Electro enforcer x2
Alien blaster
Ground meat plushie
Rotted steak plushie
Nuka shank knife
Megalonyx Right arm x2
Megalonyx left leg
Wise Mothman throne
Pepper shaker
Cattle flour Billboards
Armor part to trade
AAP%/BS Wood RL
BOL/1C/AWR Marine LA
BOL/AP Combat armor RL
BOL/AP/Limb Forest RA
BOL/1i/Sent Heavy leather RA
BOL/1p/Jwr Marine LA
BOL/1i Raiders CP
BOL/1e/Awr Trapper CP
BOL/Fire/Fwr Urban LL
OV/AP Forest CP
OV/1i/BS Forest CP
OV/AP/pick Metal RA
OV/AP Trapper RA
OV/AP Wood LL
OV/AP Wood RL
Uny/AP/pick Combat LA
Uny/1e/BS Combat RA
Uny/AP/RDR Heavy leather CP
Uny/1i Marine CP
Uny/AP Marine CP
Uny/25rad/Sent Forest LA
Uny/AP Metal CP
Uny/1i Marine LA
Uny/AP Trapper RL
Uny/1c/WWR Metal RA
Uny/1a/Sent Urban RA
Van/exp/WWR Robot CP
Van/1i/AWR Metal RA
Van/AP/AWR Marine RA
Van/1i Leather RL
Van/AP Trapper RA
Van/AP Wood RL
Wei/1s/AWR Combat LL
Wei/25RWWR Forest CP
Wei/1i/Sent Leather LA
Wei/1i/5%Poi Urban CP
Wei/25RSent Urban RL
Aut/AP/Cav Ultra PA CP
Reg/AP/FWR X-01 RL
Van/1s/Sent Ultra PA CP

I have been tormented over this fact for a while now despite advice from my friend to not confront this person. I need an external opinion.
I have been very close friends with this person, let's call her Bob, for about 3 years. We met in university and have hit it off by our shared interests. Our friendship was good for the last 2 years. She even considered me her best friend at some point.
Bob is an introverted person who was kinda raised by the “tumblr '' internet, in her bubble obsessed with obscure references. (So am i) and has a very Close relationship with her mom (if I was in a call with Bob its was never just the two of us but Bob me and Bob's mom. Never had a call where it was just the two of us or nor an outing) bobs moms is always (over) protecting her , she doesn't wish to hurt and feelings and always goes her way and bob is kinda childlike at times, baby voices ,innocence over everything nsfw or more serious topics.(can't blame her, not all there yet with adulthood either.) She has an overall sweet innocent persona that she is known for by most.
But the last year has been just bottom of the barrel for our relationship. Its our last year of university and we are assigned a project that will last all year and we are paired up by groups of 12 to create this project( video game)
However, at the start of the year I noticed her making some untasteful jokes at my expense to the people of the groups I am not acquainted with, so it made me quite uncomfortable (Exemples implying that i was harsh and cruel for asking them help to file a document and stressing her out, or one time we were just chilling and eating in class and for no reason join a facetime reunion with people from my project and started filming me laughing her ass off with no disclosure we had been silently eating at this point. After she hanged up she just acted as if nothing happen after i explained to never to that again it made me feels humiliated but i let It slide at the time) She seemed to have an issue with me particularly giving her feedback and trying to help her out but since she took a very important part of the project under her wing I thought it was important to have changed to be logical with the whole project. And she was just very harsh and dismissive of my feedbacks but at our milestone this issue i had underline was pointed out during our next milestone (at the time i thought it was better that it was me making her the harsh feedback that she had to start her design over instead of the judges) but didnt listen and was mad at me for some reason after the milestone
i'll try to make it as short as possible so :

• we made a meeting to be on par with the artistic direction of the game. She said yes but never followed up on her promise. And meetings to see what the other artists in the group were doing (if i never proposed them ,she wouldn't do them and no one would know what should be done for next week or what everyones been doing and then complain that she didn't know what we were doing. We share classes everyday we are all in close proximity)

-took the most important parts of the project for herself without sharing what we had to do with the rest of the artists in our group. And was mad about any feedback if we didn't compliment her and mad if we also did a part of the project she was working on.
-was supposed to be the bridge between the differents groups the lead of the artist (the artist the techs and the game design) never quite did. Was not happy when i did it or other artist cause we stole her tasks. If we didnt do them so wouldnt despite trying to get the idea into her head via out loud remarks
-wouldn't work for 2 weeks because of a feedback on a concept that bumped her out (we tried to reasure her when we learned)
-Says she does one thing only to never do it and take other’s tasks and not saying leaving the other scrambling to find things to do because they are not communicated to us.
-doesn't relate when some of us cant work so the big leader of the project say we don't work to the principle during a meeting… so we have to explain yourself to the principal the school. Talk about stress
We had an argument about halfway in the project because i got tired of the snide remarks aimed at me and other artists in the group . I didn't want to be treated like that by a close friend so I stayed away for a while waiting for things to cool down and talk about it and waited for her to talk to me she never did. So i stayed away because i was tired of doing so much work and not being meet halfway. She never did so i did after a discussion with another friend and told her when she is done eating to join me so we can talk. We sit next to each other in every class. She never did. I reminded her 2 other times when she was talking to other people she nodded but nothing. I got really fed up and gave up. Until a week or two i receive a long paragraph of like 8 pages of Bob feeling about our arguments. Won't detail here because its not in english and I don't want to share her feelings into the internet. When I received it I was on a call with a few friends who gave me an external view. But we had a similar conclusion Its was ego, Bob's personal problems, the consequence of our argument and crippling self doubt (I thought undiagnosed anxiety by the way it was written. Told her to please talk to professional before it harms her health) Felt shitty after reading that not gonna lie bob expressed crying herself to sleep at times... So i responded with a few pages of my own with a few questions and suggestion and waited for her answer ... a gif? So I figured meh guess she'll text me later or we'll talk later. My life goes in shamble the next day( im kiddin just had the realization that i had a few terribles grades because i sacrificed my homework for the project) so i fix a few things that week and focus on my homeworks and all is better but bob doesn't come we talk a bit here and there but doesn't bring anything up so i after a few days a friend tell me to confront her cause she never will because "i scare her" So after school I ask all the questions and all the important stuff and hear her response. It seemed to be going well so at the end we hug it all and little by little everything gets better (except her mother who tries to kill me with her stare when she go get her from school) but hey figured she'll talk to her mom about me and she'll be mad at me for bob’s sadness over all this fiasco. But we worked it out. We try to communicate better when she says when she doesn't want critique and I'll try another way to say things when she wants feedback that goes smoother. All good right?
A few weeks after that a few classmates took me aside to talk to me about an issue. Bob's be gossiping , ranting about me all this time. From the start of the project to now. And it hasn't stopped. I dont care if she vents her frustration, everyone does hell i did. But i did it with my friends. Not with most of the classroom, people whom she is not even friends with. I asked a few people from very different friendship groups , and them having the same story is... heartbreaking She has been spitting on my name when i am absent (i have a few chronic sickness andi have tendonitis for 2 years now that she knows about so), that i don't do anything,i leave everyone in the shit , they don't know what i am doing , i don't communicate, (it was apparently more violent and harsh (some of my dirty laundry also) but i couldn't get the words out of the persons i asked because it was a lot to take in at once and got more infos after but soften to not bump me out too badly ) but needless to say i think i am doing the best i can trying to work and bridge between all of the artists. I am working and helping when I can. I am easily reachable (and god dammit i made agenda to help us better but she hasn't bothered to fill it ) and i work despite my illness even when i should be resting. Taking workload To help depsite not being my tasks.
I swear to god it's a primary school drama. I felt betrayed by such a childish act because And she knows that I have been bullied bad by people who acted as my friend to only spill my dirty laundry at the whole class. Isolating me and making me a laughing stock. it was like she was mocking me where it hurts.
Anyway, what would you do after learning thoses information? What i did? I ignored her for the rest of the semester and planned to block her after. She has purposely tried to harm my reputation with my classmates and god knows who else but also people from my project where I have been out of the loop about what we have to do for a while. I get some unpleasant remarks from other people fo the groups over some non important stuff and my message are not read or unanswered at times and has not transferred stuff said that was told or not respecting my boundaries (exemple me not being able to work a week because i was doing homeworks, put me into a rush at a time I told i was unavailable had to cancel my birthday to work on the project despite stating in advance to please check if my work is working as intended a few weeks in advance) She has made me suffer a hell lot . Hell i think my hands have been doing worse Because of all this stress and lack of sleep from all year long haha.
I talked to a few people in the class about it and tried to clear my name and people seemed to mostly be by my side. And a few professors because I got scared about the consequences (me not getting my diploma if most of the group says i am not working, and my homeworks having been thrown out the windows for the project (because i was asked to do stuff in an emergency to never have that stuff used at the end) ;-; ) . I'm trying not to put her in popo but to keep my head above water. And since the relationship has died down to a professional one. I feel better and no more like a rug in this friendship. I'm kinda sad to feel like you have to submit to my friend and her mom’s way or they'll be mad at ya and other stuff that i may be overthinking on that should have ticked about her being two faced.
I know it's hard to only have one side who is biased. I apologize. If u need more information please tell me i'll add more details to the og post don't know how to condensed that much stuff.
So redditors
Should I confront her after the project is done in a few weeks or just leave her out of my life ?
TLDR: friend talked crap about me for months until i found out. Debating confronting her or cutting her out of my life

So I have been interviewing with a few companies in Washington DC over the last couple weeks. I am moving down to the area in 18 days. I am not usually a big marijuana smoker but have probably smoked 6-10 times in the last month or so. I found out that the jobs I am interviewing with will likely request drug tests. I am trying to figure out my best plan of action outside of obviously not smoking any more. I live in a state where marijuana is legal, so it totally lapsed my mind to abstain while applying for jobs as I have never been drug tested for work in my home state. Any advice welcome.

Open to all offers. Acceptable forms of payment include, but are not limited to: weapons/armocaps/junk/flux/bobs/mags/maps/Bobby pins/dog pics/a neat rock you found
Weapons:
AA25** UGL AA2515 Western Revolver AA2550break pipe Ari2515 Gatling gun AriSS50break Chainsaw AriSS1S Chainsaw AriSS1S Bone club B25ads90 GP B50c25 .44 B50v25 Hunting Rifle B50c50break Harpoon B50c1S Boxing Glove B50cfms Handmade B251a LMG B25** Flamer B40pa15v Chainsaw B50v250 M79 BerE50break Radium Exe2525 SMG ExeE50break pipe bolt action ExeE25 Pipe Revolver ExtE15r Choo Choo F2515 FLAMER F50c25 Plasma Rifle G2590 UGL GSS90 DCG G5025 Pipe Revolver Gs2590 Tesla HE90 LMG H2515 GP IE** BPR ILS** Double Barrel ILS** Assaultron Head M2515 Gamma gun M2590 GP M2590 SMG ME90 Gatling gun MSS1S Death Tambo N2515 GL QE** Pipe Qap90 Choo Choo Tr2590 FLAMER TrE15 .44 Tr50L15 Pepper TS25** Mini TS25** GP TS50c15r Fixer TS50c25 Fixer TS50c15r Double Barrel V50c25 AR V50c15c Pipe Revolver V50v15r Combat shotgun V25fms .50 V25fms UGL VSS90 Sickle VSS** Power Fist V50L90 Buzz Blade VE25 Single Action revolver VSS1S War Drum
AAE90 Western Revolver AA25** Plasma Rifle AA40pa15v RIPPER AA50c90 BPR AA50v15r Radium AAE** SMG AAE15r Fixer AAE15v Handmade AA50v50break AR AsE15r 10mm SMG AsE15r Choo Choo As2590 UGL B2515v Plasma B2525 Western B2590 Tesla B25ads90 LMG BE** BPR BE** Choo Choo BE** Radium BE250 LMG BE25 Lever BE50dr SMG BSS1E Meat Hook BSS** Baseball Bat Ber2590 Tesla Ber50c25 Fixer Exe2525 Ult Laser ExeE15v Radium Ext2590 .50 F2515 Handmade GE25 Choo Choo GsE25 Choo Choo H5025 Fixer HE90 Choo Choo IE15c Hunting Rifle IE25 Lever J2590 Mini JE15r Choo Choo Jug2525 Handmade MsE25 Choo Choo Q50c15r Radium Q50v15v Fixer Q50v15v 10mm Q50v15v Radium Q50v50break Ult Laser Q50v90 Gauss Qap15r Handmade Q50L25 Harpoon QE** Double Barrel QE** Fixer QE** Lever QE** SMG TrE90 Handmade TS2550break Ult Laser TS50c90 Choo Choo TSE50break Double Barrel TSE50break Combat Rifle StE25 Handmade VE** Pipe Revolver V50L50break Tesla V50v25 Ult Laser VE15r Lever VE25 SMG
AASS1S Cultist Dagger BSS1E Super Sledge AriE** Mini Exe50L15r Tesla I40pa** Power Fist ISS1S Revolutionary Sword JSS1S Bear Arm
As2590 .50 AA25fms Flamer AAE** LMG AA40pa40 Boxing Glove Ari2515 Gatling gun Ari2515 GP AriE90 .50 Ber2515 Gatling gun Ber50c15r Plasma Rifle Ber50c15v Dragon B25ads250 BPR B50L50break Buzz Blade GsE** Mini I50c** Bow IE** Hunting Rifle JE** Mini JE15v Mini JE50dr Handmade Jug2515 .50 Jug2515 Pepper Jug5025 Plasma JugE15v AR Q25** .50 SE15r 10mm TrE15 Mini TS25** UGL TS50L15r UGL TSE25 Mini TS2525 AGL TS50L15r GP VE** Mini V50c25 Blunderbuss V2590 LMG
ARMOR LIST :
Ari/fire/fdc hvy leath RL Ass/1i/wwr combat LL AS/1i/cav Combat CP AS/1i/doctor USA LA Bol/cryo/cav CE CP Bol/glutton/sent FSA RA Bol/1i/cav FSA RL Bol/1i/acrobats Hvy Robot RA Bol/1i/cav X01 RA Bol/1i/awr T45 torso Bol/ap/fdc Heavy Combat RA Cham/ap/sent FSA LL LS/1L/cav wood RA LS/7LED/cav Marine LA OE/1i/sent X01 torso OE/1i/fdc Hvy Metal LL OE/1a/sent Hvy Metal LL OE/1L/sent Marine LA OE/cryo/fdc CE LL Uny/1L/cav combat LL Uny/ap/sent Marine CP Uny/ap/cav FSA LA Uny/1a/wwr FSA LA Uny/fire/fdc FSA LL Uny/1s/wwr Hvy leather RA Uny/1s/wwr heavy metal LL Uny/1a/cav Heavy metal RL Uny/ap/htd Trapper LL Uny/ap/acrobats robot LA Uny/poison/Sent hvy leather LA Van/1s/fdc raider PA LL Van/1a/cav FSA CP Van/ap/sent FSA RL Van/1i/sent hvy leather CP Van/1L/awr USA LA
AS/ap/doctor metal RL Cham/ap/fdc CE RL LS/ap/sent Trapper RA LS/ap/sent USA RA N/ap/fdc Trapper LA N/ap/wwr CE RL OE/antiseptic/fdc Wood RA OE/1L/AWR CE RL, CP OE/1p/wwr combat LA OE/1a/sent FSA RA OE/glutton/sent Hvy Combat CP OE/cryo/sent Marine LA OE/1s/awr Raider LL OE/7LED/cav wood LL OE/1a/wwr CE RA TS/1i/awr FSA CP Uny/7LED/wwr FSA RL Uny/ap/wwr combat LA Uny/ap/awr Raider RA Uny/1L/sent hvy leather RL Uny/1L/htd hvy leather RL Uny/ap/htd robot RL Uny/1p/wwr Sturdy metal LL Uny/1i/toxic robot LA Uny/1a/awr USA LA Uny/ap/divers USA RL Van/ap/awr robot LL Van/1s/wwr Trapper RA Van/1s/cav USA LA Van/rad/sent USA LA Z/ap/cav Trapper CP
Bol/7LED/awr Marine CP Bol/1p/wwr Xo1 RA Cham/ap/sent excavator LA OE/1e/wwr Sturdy leather LA Uny/1p/wwr combat RL Weightless/ap/wwr Marine CP
cham/1i/jwr Sturdy combat LA OE/glutton/HTD hvy combat CP TS/ap/sent FSA LA Uny/1L/sent Sturdy metal RL Uny/glutton/sent Sturdy robot RA Uny/7LED/AWR Sturdy Raider RL Wei/1s/wwr FSA CP Wei/1i/fdc hvy Raider RA
Consumables:
240 Addictol 128 blood packs 508 buffout 162 bufftats 217 calmex 141 daddy-o 183 day tripper 186 fury 470 glowing blood 208 grape mentats 502 med-x 378 mentats 225 orange mentats 794 psychobuff 1263 radaway 1848 stims 516 super stims 207 x cell 2k canned coffee
Ask about plans, food, and beverage stock if interested
Modding services available upon request if I know the plan for the cost of parts
Looking to sell? I might buy it
Current disposable income : 80k caps

My plan is to quit smoking this week, I’ve done it before a couple times the longest for 8 months. I don’t want to be a smoker but I also don’t want to quit. I set this deadline for myself about a month ago hoping the drive would be here by now. But I don’t really want to quit like I have in the past. I’m worried I’ll go through the withdrawal process for nothing and will pick it up again when the opportunity presents itself and my will power is low. I’m also experiencing some depression so I wonder if that’s part of it. How did you guys know you were “ready”? Should I go for it still? Or should I wait until I have more drive?

[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. Fuck 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 bitch 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 fuck 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, fuck 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 whore! 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]

Hello everyone! I'm barrels~
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Email: [artsybarrels@gmail.com](mailto:artsybarrels@gmail.com)
Thank you so much for reading my post!! Have a nice day~

Timestamp: https://imgur.com/a/NnBAWqK
First up, I'm looking to trade a Noveske N6 12.5" barrel in .308, along with a Noveske N6 bcg. I originally bought these a while back for an AR-10, but the gas system is a proprietary length and wouldn't work with my handguard so I'm replacing them. This comes with Noveske's Micro Switchblock adjustable gas block, which is fantastic for suppressor users. You can adjust it by hand, but it comes with a little wrench to use if it's too hot to touch. It comes pre-drilled for the cross pin and also features a set screw for extra security, however it isn't dimpled for the screw. The bolt carrier group is nitrided and features dual ejectors and a beefed up firing pin. For whatever reason, when I received it from Noveske the firing pin retaining clip was out of spec and will not fully seat in the bolt carrier. You'll need a replacement, but luckily those things are like $3. Make sure you get an AR-10 sized clip, they're longer than regular AR-15 clips. I'm looking to trade both for a Trijicon ACOG TA31F, not picky about if it's salty or not. Preferably the basic thumbscrew mount, I've got my own mount I plan on using so no point in sending me anything too fancy.
Second item is a Surefire M500A handguard/light. These are pretty cool pieces from the early 2000s, perfect for putting on an old SWAT build. Pairs great with carry handle uppers, but an old Eotech on a flat top would look cool too. Comes with a standard incandescent lamp that kinda sucks, but Lumens Factory sells LED conversions for it that work great. Takes 3 CR123 batteries (not included). Hoping to get $275 for it, PayPal G&S. Buyer covers the G&S fee.

Just purchased a Gold Certified 2022 RAV4 yesterday. Unfortunately, after coming home and leaving the car parked for about an hour and a half, I left to run an errand and could smell cigarette smoke. The previous owner must have been a smoker, unless one of the service workers who took it for a test drive had a smoke, but I'm pretty sure dealerships are very strict about not smoking. It's still a possibility so not ruling that out since I didn't really notice the smell on the test drive on Wednesday.
I didn't notice the smell when I went on the test drive on Wednesday, it has been in the high 90s this week and the AC was already blasting when we got in the car. I didn't get to pick up my car until today because they had just received it and still needed to complete the 160 point check to have it registered as Gold Certified.
I did kind of notice a strong odor today, but I thought it was possibly a cleaner that they used to clean the car to get it ready for me. But like I said earlier after coming home and then leaving again to run an errand I could smell cigarette odor.
Just pretty disappointed that I am experiencing this considering the fact that I am spending a lot money on this car and put more than 50% down on it. I didn't leave with the car on Wednesday after the test drive and paying a down payment since they still needed time to complete the 160 point check, do an oil change, replace the air filter, tire alignment, etc. They had 2 1/2 days to deal with the odor or like I said maybe a service worker had a smoke in it since I test drove it on Wednesday...?
I am planning on calling to speak to the service manager tomorrow morning so I just want to have a better idea on what to expect and have a better understanding so I prepare what to say.
Service workers- What is the protocol that you all follow when you receive a trade in from a smoker? Is there a typical cleaning procedure you do? Thinking it could benefit from a steam cleaning. I read a few previous post in the subreddit about a couple of treatments people have done on their own. For example, using a hydroxyl generator, cleaning the evaporator box with BG Frigi-Clean, an ozone treatment, etc. So might need a combination of the two to fully get the smell out of the carpets and seats.
Car owners - Has anyone experienced this and what did the dealership do?
Thank you in advance for taking the time to read my post and have any advice given!

Hi my name is Michael. I am 37 years old (my birthday was Monday. I am a native Long Islander who now lives in Arizona northwest of Glendale. I want to meet a woman whom is looking for a relationship. Not friends. Not friends that blossom into a relationship. I want someone who is real. I don't want ghosting. If you cannot bother to say I'm not into you, you are not worth my time. Sorry not sorry.
I'm a special education teacher who is better themselves by working out and trying to eat right. I am into Disney Parks, going to concerts monster trucks, hockey, football. Go New York Islanders, New York Yankees (love them, hate baseball), Arizona Cardinals and Vegas Golden Knights.
What are my non-negotiables: No smokers No drug users No alcoholics (occasional use is fine) No jobless Willing to meet me half way for dates. In Arizona, planning to move here or in the southwest USA only.
Since I love music, mention some of your favorite artists or bands if interested.

Hi my name is Michael. I am 37 years old (my birthday was Monday. I am a native Long Islander who now lives in Arizona northwest of Glendale. I want to meet a woman whom is looking for a relationship. Not friends. Not friends that blossom into a relationship. I want someone who is real. I don't want ghosting. If you cannot bother to say I'm not into you, you are not worth my time. Sorry not sorry.
I'm a special education teacher who is better themselves by working out and trying to eat right. I am into Disney Parks, going to concerts monster trucks, hockey, football. Go New York Islanders, New York Yankees (love them, hate baseball), Arizona Cardinals and Vegas Golden Knights.
What are my non-negotiables: No smokers No drug users No alcoholics (occasional use is fine) No jobless Willing to meet me half way for dates. In Arizona, planning to move here or in the southwest USA only.
Since I love music, mention some of your favorite artists or bands if interested.

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‎ ‎
Meanwhile, at the same time as the purple cloud first descended...
‎
SLASH
‎
A guttural, wheezing cough escaped the goblin's throat as it knelt, thick globs of saliva and mucus splattering the dusty ground.
‎

[>>[QUICK ADAPTATION(E)]<<] The proficiency of your passive skill has been increased by 0.01%! 

‎
In a blur of motion, a razor-sharp jian cleaved through the creature's neck, its wicked edge leaving a crimson wake in its path. The goblin's severed head hit the earth with a dull thump, viridian eyes still wide with shock as its body crumpled lifelessly.
‎
From the roiling miasma of noxious purple mist arose the attacker, a lithe figure wreathed in an aura of deadly grace.
‎
The jian in their grasp glistened, coated in a grotesque mixture of goblin blood and ichor. As they stepped forward, crimson eyes flickered with an eerie inner light, glaring balefully at the remaining goblins struggling to regain their footing.
‎
"I know it's unfair, but you came with an army," the attacker remarked, their voice cutting through the fog like a knife. Their form shimmered and phased in and out of reality, the poisonous vapors parting briefly to reveal chiseled features set in an impassive mask.
‎
One particularly massive goblin, clutching a greatsword nearly as tall as itself, let out a guttural war cry. Veins bulged obscenely beneath its mottled green skin as it charged, each thunderous footfall shaking the very earth.
‎
SLASH!
‎

[>>[QUICK ADAPTATION(E)]<<] The proficiency of your passive skill has been increased by 0.01%! 

‎
With a horizontal sweep of its blade, a fan of virulent emerald droplets exploded outward.
‎
The attacker's body flickered once more, the jian becoming a blur of motion that ended with its razor tip buried in the goblin's throat.
‎
The creature's pupils blew wide, a gargled death rattle its only eulogy as it crumpled bonelessly to the ground in a spreading pool of its own vile ichor.
‎
No sooner had one foe fallen than the attacker had phased through the miasma to engage the next, the jian carving a deadly through the air. A goblin head sailed in a grotesque arc, jaw still locked in a perpetual snarl, before thudding wetly into the dirt.
‎
One by one the goblins that had besieged the village fell, hewn apart by an unstoppable flurry of strikes that left their broken forms littering the ground.
‎
At last, Ji Wuye, the crimson-eyed swordsman whose jian ran slick with vital fluids, came to a halt before the shattered remnants of the wooden palisade wall.
‎
With measured strides, Ji Wuye advanced, right arm extended as the jian's razor edge caught the wan rays of sunlight piercing the miasma.
‎
THUD-!
‎
THUD-!
‎
THUD-!
‎
With each footfall, his form shimmered and phased, leaving a wake of severed goblin heads bouncing across the trampled earth.
‎
His steps slowed as a familiar silhouette resolved itself from the roiling vapors in the distance. "Still indifferent, huh?" he murmured, shifting aside in a single fluid motion.
‎
SWOOSH-!
‎
A fierce gust of wind rushed through the space he had just vacated, momentarily parting the thick purple mists to reveal an elf woman, holding a bow.
‎
A flurry of strikes left a trail of goblin corpses scattered in her wake. The elf woman's strikes were as precise as they were lethal, each blow a calculated expenditure of pure, economical violence.
‎
In her wake, the street lay strewn with broken goblin forms, their viscera intermingling in a grotesque tapestry of greens and crimsons.
‎
Yet amid the carnage, scattered like fell blossoms upon the bloodied cobbles, were unmistakable human remains - severed limbs, torsos cloven nearly in twain, all bearing mute testament to the elf's indiscriminate fury.
‎
She moved on, features an inscrutable mask of indifference, leaving behind a trail of horror - not just the shattered goblin corpses, but the slack, lifeless faces of elderly villagers, eyes still wide with their final moments of shock and pain.
‎
Dirt and mingled blood streaked their pallid countenances in macabre rictus grins.
‎
“Sigh…” Ji Wuye dropped to one knee amid the butchery, throat constricting as he gently slipped his fingers beneath the eyelids of each fallen elder, closing their eyes with a reverence that seemed discordant amid such wanton destruction.
‎
Prying apart the rictus jaws, he sealed their mouths, granting them a semblance of peace in death. When at last the grisly task was done, he rose and bowed deeply to the still forms, holding the stance for a solemn moment of silence.
‎
Humans and elves have developed natural defenses or adaptations that provide some resistance against the lethal effects of the poison.
‎ ‎
Despite appearances, the poison—or rather, the combination of poisons—used to cloud the battlefield was specifically formulated to affect only monsters such as goblins.
‎
Unlike humans, goblins have a distinct respiratory system that rapidly absorbs the poison, leading to swift and lethal effects. Additionally, their skin is more permeable to the specific toxins in the poison, allowing it to quickly enter their bloodstream.
‎
Moreover, due to their smaller size, goblins inhale a relatively higher dose of the poison compared to larger races like humans and elves.
‎
On the other hand, the current reaction in humans involves the poison's psychoactive compounds, which induce hallucinations in humans and elves, even at lower concentrations.
‎
These compounds interact differently with the brain chemistry of non-monster races, causing vivid and terrifying hallucinations without the lethal effects experienced by goblins.
‎
In short, what the non-monster races are experiencing right now is merely how they 'imagine' being poisoned. Each person's reaction varies; one might immediately faint, while the majority have their vision altered to see the scenario they imagine.
‎
"Also, the effect should be gone in a few minutes," he murmured, shaking his head. "Yet I forgot to consider her indifferent view."
‎
A weary sigh parted his lips as Ji Wuye's gaze roamed across the broken corpses once more. It seemed achieving zero casualties hidden achievement was an impossibility as long as the elf remained here.
‎
His plan had been to utilize the noxious purple vapors to incapacitate the goblin horde while the villagers remained safely sheltered, emerging once the threat was neutralized and the challenge cleared.
‎
But the elf's interference had introduced an unforeseen variable, one with tragic consequences.
‎
Suddenly…
‎
COUGH-!
‎
COUGH-!
‎
The sound of raucous coughing and pained shouts snapped Ji Wuye from his morose reverie. Pushing aside this matter, he strode towards the commotion to find a familiar knight surrounded by a knot of goblin assailants.
‎
Though grievously wounded, chainmail rent and weeping crimson life from a dozen punctures, the knight fought on with grim tenacity.
‎
His guard wavered as he was forced to pause, doubling over to expel thick gouts of blood in a spasm of hacking coughs. Under normal circumstances, such a paltry cluster of foes would prove little challenge.
‎
However, the knight's imagination of being poisoned felt overwhelmingly real. Despite there being no signs of poison—only the stab wounds from countless daggers inflicted on his body—the knight acted as weakly as if he had been poisoned with a deadly toxin.
‎
"That's the limit for one person," Ji Wuye muttered, shaking his head as he accelerated into a sprint, jian held low.
‎
Leaping off the spot, he launched himself into the melee in a soaring leap, right arm cocked back as the blade's razor edge sliced parallel to his cheekbones.
‎

Pulse of the Blade: First Move, Gentle Breeze! 

‎
Ji Wuye's lithe form swayed with a dancer's grace, his movements harmonizing with the gentle currents of air as if guided by some unseen choreographer.
‎
The jian became an extension of his being, lashing out in blurred arcs to the left and right. Each strike met its mark with surgical precision, goblin heads toppling from ruined necks to become macabre ornaments skewered upon the blade's slender length.
‎

[>>[PULSE OF BLADE SWORD ART(??)]<<] Your understanding of Pulse of Blade Sword Art has slightly increased! 

‎
The cadence of Ji Wuye's footwork merged with the wet patter of blood striking the ground, composing a perverse rhythm that seemed to goad him into an ever-quickening tempo.
‎
When at last the final goblin fell, its decapitated corpse joining its brethren in a sprawl of broken forms, an eerie stillness descended once more.
‎

[>>[PULSE OF BLADE SWORD ART(??)]<<] Your understanding of Pulse of Blade Sword Art has slightly increased! 

‎
With an almost casual flick of his wrist, Ji Wuye sent the grisly garland of severed heads tumbling free, the gory mass impacting the packed earth with a sickly squelch reminiscent of a dropped barrel.
‎
The Pulse of Blade Sword Art comprised a vast repertoire of techniques, yet Ji Wuye had only glimpsed the opening movement as demonstrated by Song Jia.
‎
Yet, here, thanks to the Tower's system, Ji Wuye could feel each strike and parry, which incrementally deepened his understanding.
‎
A faint smile played across Ji Wuye's lips as this realization took hold. Turning to face the battered knight who leaned heavily upon his blade. "What a great performance, wake up, Knight of Averial House—this poison only works on those monsters."
‎

[!] Congratulations, Climber Ji Wuye, on successfully defending Kenlan Village! 

‎

[>>[INFORMATION]<<] Challenger Ji Wuye, Congratulations on successfully clearing the third floor! 

‎

[!] You've encountered a hobgoblin! A being who should not be involved in this challenge! The gods are impressed by your incredible achievement! 

‎

[!] You have defeated a Hobgoblin, impressing all the gods who are watching your performance! It is truly a remarkable feat! 

‎

[!] You have single-handedly defeated 3/4 of the goblin army, which is an incredible accomplishment! 

‎

[!] Your participation in defending Kenlan Village is unparalleled, and you have accomplished an extraordinary feat! 

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎
‎‎‎‎[📖First ⏮️Previous Next⏭️]

New to 10/22 builds so hoping for some budget guidance because if there is 1 thing I have learned from this sub its: most folks replace everything anyway.
$249 Model 1151 with irons
or
$200 Model 31210 weaver & no irons
*3rd option I see researching this sub lately is $242 for a Model 31191 with iron ring /rail, threaded barrel, but I'm reading a few negative reviews of g4gguns.com but this seems like the better deal (as ugly as it may be to some)
Optics/mounting wise, I am planning on pairing with a 3x9-40mm scope/ rings/picatinny* depending which. Long term/option wise I prefer to have irons while still having the added option of a scope and/or reddot & magnifier option (I swmp optics alot).
Threaded barrel is not a huge deal for me as I'd sooner be replacing the trigger, stock in order of priority, then maybe barrel. This would just be a range toy but I would like to be able to reach out to 100+ yards if needed, or hit the occasional tree rat.
Help?

[INDEX]
Blackheart Bill stared at us from the porch of the tiny cabin, his eyes filled with murder. A cruel smile crept across his face, causing me to break into a sweat — this was a man who enjoyed the suffering of others.
“Well, well. If it isn’t the two bounty hunters that killed half my gang,” Bill drawled, his voice dripping malice. “What do ya think we should do with them, boys?”
“Face me like a man,” I shouted at him. “I refuse to be hung like a criminal!”
Bill’s lips twisted into a grin. “Is that so?” He said. “You think I had you brought here so you can challenge me to a duel? You’re mistaken kid.”
“I don’t want to be hung,” I said, mentally instructing Horse edge closer to Silas’ mount.
“What you want and what I want are different things, boy,” Bill said, his face relaxing into an unreadable mask. “And what I want is for you to suffer for killing my men. Jim, get a rope.”
Gap-tooth laughed like a drunken donkey and swung down from his horse.
I brushed against Silas, pulling his gun from my Inventory. Silas was fast, insanely fast. The gun appeared in my hand for a split-second before Silas had it pointed at the outlaw and was firing sizzling black bolts of energy.
Blackheart Bill was faster.
The outlaw dodged to the side in a blur, firing off three wild Kinetic bolts, one passing on each side of Silas before the final one tagged the man in the chest with the sound of shattering glass.
I pulled my gun from inventory a moment later, regretting my decision to load it with Lightning rounds as I pulled the trigger. Thunder roared as I shot the bandit behind me, then I squeezed the trigger again, clipping the other with a finger-thick bolt of electricity. Stone bullets whizzed around me as Horse hightailed it around the corner of the shack. Triggering [Aimed Shot] I fired a third round and a clap of thunder fried the man guarding the wood door set into the canyon wall.
Silas rounded the building a second later, his gun firing wildly at the remaining bandits. Quick as a flash, he ejected the spent brass and reloaded from his gun belt, picking off two more as they rounded the corner.
A Metal bullet burst from the wood next to my face, grazing my temple. I shoved my Mongoose into a gap between the weathered boards and fired off the remainder of my Lightning rounds, setting the front of the shack on fire. My fingers flickered as I reloaded unprimed rounds into the gun, slamming the cylinder closed.
Silas took one edge of the cabin and I took the other, shooting at anyone who moved, trapped in a standoff with the remaining five bandits and Bill, who continued shooting through the walls at us while screaming obscenities.
“Told you I didn’t want to hang, you scar-faced freak,” I taunted the man, firing a shot at one of the bandits scurrying to find better cover behind a broken wagon missing its rear axle. The Kinetic Bolt spread as it covered the distance, growing from a finger-sized bolt of blue energy into a basketball sized cloud that dispersed with a crackle and pop. Somewhere in the back of my head I knew the range was only about twenty yards and chastised myself for wasting the bullet.
I had less than 550BP remaining, which was a lot for unprimed shots, but only 54 [Aimed Shots] or about 100 primed shots. If I needed to use any of my other Utilities, it would drop fast. The bandit I had missed popped off a shot from his new vantage point, punching a hole in the wall above my head. I sent a Stone bullet in reply, causing him to duck from sight.
\Ding**
A popup blocked the lower half of my vision.
-=-=-
📱 [New Power-Up Available!] 📱
🔫 Pinned down behind an old shack? Bullets not packing enough punch? Try [Overcharge]! 🔫
💥 Just 500 credits, Limited time only! 💥
🌟 Features Include: - [Overcharge] Utility**: Infuse your bullets with extra battery points and surprise everyone! - Costs 500 credits - Requires 82 Memory
⚠️ Important Notes: - Cannot be stacked with active Utilities - Overcharge can severely damage firearms
[Get Overcharge Now ✅] [Maybe Later ❌]
-=-=-
The 60 second timer counted down 2 seconds before I punched accept.
[Downloading…20%…32%…68%…87%…Done!] [Installing…8%…12%…49%…52%…91%…Done!]
“You get shot?” Silas asked, sparing me a glance while I was stuck waiting for my upgrade to finish.
I shook my head. “Psychic thing,” I said once the System was done shoving data in my head. The knowledge of how to use [Overcharge], was simple enough — just push extra BP through the runestone and increase the destructive power of the bullet.
I triggered [Overcharge] and pushed an extra 5 Battery Points into the runestone, bringing the total cost of the Stone bullet to 6BP, then squeezed the trigger. The projectile impacted the broken wagon like a grenade, sending fragments of wood flying everywhere.
The screaming started a second later, followed by the bandit whose face was covered in blood and splinters. Selecting [Aimed Shot] I put a Stone bullet into his head, shocked by the spray of gore that filled the air. Hot bile burned the back of my throat, forcing me to swallow hard and refocus on the immediate situation.
The sound of hooves reached my ears, followed by Silas swearing. “They’re escaping,” He said, turning to mount his horse and swearing again. The animal was trembling in shock, bloody froth covering its mouth as it struggled to breathe. I noticed the blood covering its side then, where it had been shot when we had retreated behind the shack.
The shack was now burning quite impressively. The flames had grown to the point that it was uncomfortable to remain close, so I moved to a cooler spot and took a seat on the sandy ground. Pulling the Marlin from inventory, I popped off the leather caps that protected the scope lenses and took aim at the fleeing bandits. The scope pulled them in close enough that I felt I could reach out and snatch them with my hand even though they were over a hundred yards away now.
Bracing the rifle on my knee, I sighted through the scope and pulled the trigger, worked the lever to eject the shell and fired again. On the fourth shot I watched as Blackheart Bill’s horse stumbled and dropped to the dirt. I was aiming at Bill, but taking out his horse was good enough.
I watched as Bill took cover behind his downed horse and yelled at his men to come back and get him. They didn’t even look back, hunkering down as he started shooting at them, hitting one and dropping him from the saddle. Taking aim through the scope, I shot a few more rounds at Bill, causing him to turn his attention back to me and return fire.
A gunshot from behind me caused me to jump. Turning to see the source of the gunfire I saw Silas standing over the body of his horse. I guess he decided to end its misery.
Holstering his weapon, Silas yelled at the outlaw. “It’s over, Bill! Throw down your guns!”
Bill fired off another few rounds, none of them even coming close. A gunslinger like Bill might be deadly at close range, but he was just as accurate with a pistol as everyone else at a hundred yards.
I fired off a Metal slug from the Marlin and Bill returned fire. Our standoff continued, none of us wanting to commit to a move.
“How far you think that is?” I asked Silas.
“About a hundred ten, hundred twenty yards. Why?”
“Long as I’m here I might as well try to zero in this scope,” I replied, sighting down the barrel while adjusting the stupidly expensive piece of equipment.
“It’s a nice scope,” Silas admitted, rolling a cigarette. “You’re only as good as your gun.”
I nodded, fired off another shot, adjusted the scope, then fired off another. Until I got this thing in a vise and did it properly, this was as good as I was going to get.
The top of Bill’s hat was just visible over the ribs of the dead animal, so I used [Aimed Shot] and fired, eliciting a string of curses from the outlaw as it was knocked from his head.
I grinned at Silas, who returned it with a smile of his own. “You think this is gonna take long?” I asked.
“Put a few of those explosive rounds into that horse. That should get ‘em moving,” Silas answered.
“That was an [Overcharged] stone bullet,” I said. “Not sure it’ll have the same effect with a Metal slug.”
Silas nodded his head. “Be careful you don’t Overcharge too much, you can damage the core of your gun or even cause it to explode,” he said.
I sighted down the scope and triggered [Overcharge] with 5BP, sending another five Metal slugs downrange just as quick as I could work the lever-action. The slugs tore through the carcass, kicking up little puffs of dust as they tore into the ground beyond it.
Bills hat began to wave over the remains of the horse, then it dropped from sight.
“Let’s give him a few minutes,” Silas suggested. “If he’s playing games, he’ll lose patience. No sense endangering ourselves if he decides to pop up and start firing.”
I shot a few more [Overcharged] Metal slugs into the carcass, the last one causing the hat to fall out of Bills hand. Through the scope I could see his limp arm draped over the side of the horse.
Pushing the Marlin back into Inventory, I rose from the ground and looked at Silas. “You take the left and I’ll take the right?” I offered.
Silas loosened his pistol in its holster and began walking.
“Is it always like this?” I asked the bounty hunter.
“Like what?”
“So…messy.”
Silas tossed the remains of his cigarette onto the ground. “This was pretty bad,” He admitted. “Most times it’s just some guy in a small town saloon or holed up in a shack somewhere in the woods. Someone who thinks moving a few towns away will cover their tracks. Some even try to start their lives over. Bill was a two gold bounty, someone a posse would chase down, not two men.”
“So why did we go after him?”
“Because I thought he was in the Hardash forest, not running roughshod over the patriarch of Silvertown,” Silas laughed suddenly, shaking his head. “The plan was to locate his hideout, collect a few more men to handle his gang, and ambush them.”
We eased around the bullet-ridden horse to discover Blackheart Bill bleeding out. One of my bullets had gone through the horse, through his back and exited his chest. He gave us a bloody grin as we approached with guns drawn.
“There’s a healing potion in the saddle bag under the horse,” the bandit said, spitting out a mouthful of blood. “I’m worth more alive than dead and you don’t want to throw away good money, do ya?”
Silas pulled the hammer back on his gun, pointing it at the outlaw’s head.
“Wait,” Bill said, coughing weakly. “I got a dragon core, a real dragon core. I’ll tell you where to get it.”
“Now where would you get a dragon core?” Silas asked.
“From the Silvertown mines,” Bill rasped. “One of my boys, his brother works the mines and told him that they found dragon bones. That’s when I took the girl and made her daddy my bitch. He’d do anything to get her back.”
Silas pulled the trigger, splattering the outlaws head all over the remains of the horse.
“I’ve heard enough,” He said, holstering his pistol. “He kidnapped the girl and the others, holding them hostage so the Patriarch and other townsfolk wouldn’t interfere with his scheme. Let’s find the girl and get back to town.”
“Damn, Silas. In cold blood,” I said, turning my head from the sight of the gore. This is twice today I’ve seen the inside of a man’s skull. I should be bothered by this, like really bothered, but I’m not. Not really. It’s like there’s a disconnect and the only thing my brain can process is how smooth and efficient Silas was when he pulled the trigger. I can still taste bile in the back of my throat though.
“You want to do that thing of yours? Or you want me to dig his core out?”
“I’ll handle it,” I said, kneeling to touch the man so I could trigger [Disassembly]. “You should go see about the girl, she’s trying to use my Horse to get away and is having a nervous breakdown because he won’t move.”
I asked Horse to mosey around the burning remains of the shack with his new rider and to meet Silas. He sent back an image of him riding in a wagon with me pulling it. I’m guessing that he’s not enthused about being a taxi service.
The girl, Loretta Jurgens, was not in good shape.
The door set into the wall of the canyon covered the dead-end shaft of an abandoned moon silver mine left behind by some prospector. Loretta had been kept in there for the better part of a month and was in hysterics trying to get Horse to move. I'll let Silas deal with her while I process everything.
I collected 2100 credits for the all bandits, another 130 silver that I split with Silas, and of course, all their cores which would need to be turned in for bounties. A dozen pistols and several score of bullets were added to my inventory as well, including several knives and other personal effects that Silas assured me would fetch a few coin at a local pawnshop or general store. And gold teeth.
All that remained now was to locate the loot and leave this hell hole.
[INDEX]

Body electronics died. I sent this to a repair shop and they were unable to find replacement parts. I prefer the Pentax 645n with cheap zoom lenses and had planned to sell this anyways. Buy a body (KEH has several) and you'll be in business or I can sell each item separately. Photos: https://imgur.com/gallery/Nv0ZWhY
Contax 645 80mm f2 - glass is very clean, barrel has scuffs, functions great. $1400
Battery Grip MP-1 - good condition. $150
Prism Finder MF-1 - tape residue on top, good condition otherwise. $150
Film back MFB-1 and insert MFB-1A - good condition. $250
Contax 645 body for parts - shutter assembly in good condition. $250
Entire bundle $2000. Shipped in off-brand case with extra focusing screens.

TLDR: I listened to my T14's Financial Aid Office, shouldn't have, and now need ideas for employment.
This is a throwaway account because I think I'll probably reveal enough about the school to out what school it is.
After doing great in undergrad at keeping my debt down, I got relative pennies in financial aid coming into law school. Like, enough that they said "we didn't forget about you, but don't you go spending this nickel in one place!"
I spoke with FA about it, and they advised me that I should focus on my grades in 1L and not worry about cost so much, and then in my 2L and 3L years, I could be a TA for an undergrad course, which comes with a full tuition waiver and a monthly stipend. Cool deal, right?
In 1L, I experienced two separate family emergencies and a medical emergency of my own. It drove my student loan debt alone from like $25,000 out of undergrad to about $120,000. In 2L, I did as they said, and got a TA gig. It was not nearly as easy as they made it out to seem, but I got one, and 2L was much easier for me. After interest, I'm hovering around $130,000 in debt and was financially stable for 2L, which I could not say for 1L.
Now, the Department that I am TAing in is firing all law students (rather, they're "not renewing our contracts") because we cost too much in our tuition waiver. Never mind the number of law students who specifically swallow the sticker price because they are told that they can just TA. So I'm now staring into the barrel of another $90,000 year, with no income, and graduating with over $200k in debt. Which I really don't want to do. Our union is grieving this, as it is a pretty clear violation of our contract, but the union seems more preoccupied with fighting for divestment from Israel (which is never going to happen) than actually helping student workers with out actual problems, so I am not holding my breath.
I'm trying to make the best out of a bad situation. I'm planning to live very cheaply next year, and I've taken an internship for credit in DC that I wouldn't have been able to do as a TA (because I would have had to be in-person). But I really need a job. It's never going to give me a tuition waiver, but it could at least bring my debt down. I'm working as a summer associate at a large firm this summer, but that money is almost all going to paying off $25k in credit card debt that I accumulated during 1L.
So I'm looking for part-time remote options that are flexible with my internship schedule. Any ideas? I've thought about tutoring, but I don't know what the remote options for that look like.
Lesson to 0Ls: don't trust financial aid.

Session 0 "Intake": https://www.reddit.com/DeltaGreenRPG/comments/1d0l92x/impossible_landscapes_session_0/
Session 1 "The Apartment": https://www.reddit.com/DeltaGreenRPG/comments/1d2sjua/impossible_landscapes_session_1_the_apartment/
Operation ALICE, New York, 1995
The Roster (Player/Character)
Lea (she/her): Jules Gradkowska - Agent MIRANDA. Journalist - research and human intelligence.
Iain (he/him): Ralph Bevis - Agent MILHOUSE. Academic - history and occult specialist.
Quinn (he/him): Richard Delapore - Agent MAVERICK. FBI Special Agent - criminal and forensic expert and the official 'face' of the investigation.
Phil (he/him): Jean Duvall - Agent MAIN. US Navy Master Chief Petty Officer - operational security specialist.
Duncan (he/him): Jake Little - Agent MALATESTA. Civilian contractor - computer and electronic specialist with a side line in hacking.
Rob_sothoth (he/him) - Handler. The arbiter of the world: the good, the bad and that which cannot and should not be named.
Background: The Agents of M-Cell are tasked with investigating the apartment of Abigail Wright. Missing since June, Delta Green has reason to suspect para-natural involvement. Their orders are simple: catalogue the apartment and remove anything deemed suspect for destruction.
Despite heavy changes made, full spoiler warning for Impossible Landscapes.

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Session 2 "Futures Past" (June 7th, 2024)
New York: Wednesday, August 9th, 1995
05:00am - 2:30pm, EST
Following the first day of investigation, Agent MAIN is the first to wake. An early-riser after years in the military, he leaves a note for Marsha. The two will meet again, of course. Arriving at work, he gets chatting to some Navy mechanics about the little weird diagram on the napkin. About the best answer he gets (after a successful check), is that one of them remembers seeing something like a clockwork giraffe as an attraction in South America. Studying it on that basis, MAIN concludes it's an artist's attempt at design because he can't see a way for this to work or even what it might really be for. He also checks in with USN and asks a friend to track down some vintage US Arms gear (he noted the serial numbers on the radio and dud-grenade). Not being from the same branch of service (and a failed check), it will take somewhere between 24-48 hours. (I decided US Armed Forces would probably be better at digitizing records, he'll get something either way).
MAVERICK isn't far behind MAIN, starting his day as usual being one of the first into the FBI NYC Field Office. As far as the FBI is concerned, he's on the Wright case now it's in their jurisdiction. Unprepared to wait for the prints to be matched (failed check on Bureaucracy), he instead does it himself (successful Forensics check). Abigail was never arrested, but her father handed in a hairbrush she kept at his and his wife's home. The prints match. It took MAVERICK a little time (it was a close pass), because part of a second, unidentified print obscured one of Abigail's, He can discount himself and the team, and likely anyone in law enforcement as he assumed they would've gone gloved.
Next, he follows up on Art Life and makes a call. He gets on the phone with Cynthia LeChance and in the course of their conversation is able to intuit there's something she's unsure or hesitant about. Being the honest-to-goodness, earnest Agent Cooper type, MAVERICK is able to organise a lunch meeting with her as part of follow up. He doesn't have many questions, he assures Cynthia and it'll be on the FBI's dime. She agrees to meet at 12pm.
(It's worth mentioning I ruled there was no reason MARCUS (Case Officer, M-Cell) or the Agents themselves wouldn't have or be able to obtain pagers they could use to stay in contact. Definitely an incidental expense as far as I am concerned.)
MILHOUSE, after his morning run to campus, follows up on his research from the previous day. He identifies the Ars Goetia and learns there's an 18th century copy in the special collections. Luckily for him, he's able to get about an hour with the book. The book contains the names of some 72 demons, their associated heraldry and symbols which they must "pay allegiance to." The book also contains the supposed means of summoning said entities, but MILHOUSE's time is over before he can get much further into it.
He's the first to arrive at the apartment, late morning/early afternoon (roughly around MAVERICK's planned lunch interview). At the coffeeshop, he's treated to a free beverage by Marsha, who thanks him for bringing his friend in the other day. Sadly, by the time MAIN arrives, her shift is over.
MIRANDA lies awake, watching the minutes tick by until about five minutes before she'd usually be walking into the Village Voice's office before making a call. She's really sorry, but she'll have to take a personal day, but does her best to reassure her editor she's still on for the grill party on Saturday. Of more immediate concern is the missing demonic symbol she is unable to locate. The polaroid she snapped is still in her possession, but she can find no trace of the symbol drawn on its piece of brown wrapping paper anywhere in her apartment. Nor can she find any evidence her home was broken into (she has the right skills to determine that for...reasons).
She makes a quick call to her criminal contact, Hugo. It's been less than 24 hours, but she wants to just follow up to perhaps create a sense of urgency. Hugo says he might have a couple of people on the hook, but it would help if he had more to work with than just "weird and esoteric." MIRANDA will be in touch. Before heading to Kips Bay, she decides to follow up on trying to locate the cab and its driver she photographed the other day; the driver looking down the barrel of the camera at her.
It takes her most of the morning, but MIRANDA locates the garage and office. Mostly making calls asking about a cab outside Abigail's address the previous day. She knows the time, more or less. She finds a schlubby office manager who stonewalls her until money changes hands. MIRANDA gets a name and the cabbie's usual pick up and route. Guy likes to work around the Port Authority Terminal most days, she can probably find him there. She doesn't want to go alone and makes her way to the Macallistar where she expects to find the others.
A night owl and late to wake by nature, MALATESTA hits snooze on his alarm maybe only twice today. Packing up the weird crystal in a ziplock bag stowed in his backpack, he takes himself to the Mercury Gallery. He's got an angle he wants to try and it works, if not quite in the way he perhaps expected.
The gallery owner, Santiago, isn't sure what to make of the skater-grunge kid who rolls into his gallery, but he's not exactly out of place and to be truthful, his story is almost too outlandish not to be true. Through a combination of good roleplay and an opposed check, MALATESTA explains a "dude he's working for" heard about Abigail's exhibition and wanted to know if there were any paintings of hers left unsold.
As it turns out, there are. Santiago explains they're not the cream of the crop: "Most of the others were more abstract and, I would say, exemplary. She did well, especially for an artist in New York. The one or two I have left are a bit more...prosaic."
At about this time, MAVERICK makes his meeting with Cynthia. He's not hard to miss; there is no reality in which he was not a Federal Agent and Cynthia easily marks him across the street. She takes him to a small Italian bistro where she usually has lunch and begins talking. This is what MAVERICK is good at; getting people to talk. Everyone wants to, after all; it's about letting them and knowing where to push and where not.
Cynthia explains how weird the Macallistar has been for her to manage. The building has never been filled to capacity as far she can recall and those units which were occupied never remained so for very long.
MAVERICK: "Did you know Abigail?"
Cynthia: "Not really. I met her once or twice. Went with her and her dad to view the apartment." She smiles. "He was worried about her having a ground floor unit in the city, but it was the one she wanted. Never any complaints from her or from other tenants about her. Then...the rent stopped."
MAVERICK: "Yeah, we saw that."
Cynthia: "No. You don't understand. The rent stopped. No one in the building has been paying rent since March this year."
MAVERICK: "What does that mean?"
Cynthia is nervous. MAVERICK picks up she's worried she might be in trouble and he reassures her she isn't. Far from it, in fact.
Across town, MALATESTA is shown one of Abigail's unsold paintings. Santiago unveils it; a landscape, the frame longer than it is tall. A park, with a city-skyline in the background. In the centre, a statue. There are people. Some gathered in a crowd, others walking in various directions. MALATESTA feels uneasy. Then he sees them: five figures gathered in the shadows of the statue around a sixth, seated on a bench. Merely brushstrokes, details and faces indistinct. One may be a woman. Another appears to be holding a skateboard.
Santiago, distant as MALATESTA gave the painting his full attention, becomes clear again.
"See what I mean? Like something you'd see in a doctor's office."
"Yeah." MALATESTA passes a SAN check, but still takes one.
He was there just yesterday.
This was exhibited in November of last year (1994).
He tries and fails to argue Santiago down on the price and is very unaware that the gallery owner is hitting on him. Wrapping the painting, MALATESTA asks if Santiago can check on where some of the other paintings might have ended up or ask around about Abigail in general. Since it means they will meet again, Santiago is all too happy to oblige and hands MALATESTA a business card, writing his own number on the back.
MALATESTA: "Cool, man. I'll be in touch with the deets."
Santiago: "Sure...the deets." (I think it pained him to say that word)
Before leaving, he lets go something Abigail mentioned during the exhibition. While unable to recall the name, he thinks she said she got her inspiration from a book of some sort. He thinks the name might have been something French.
Across their lunch table, Cynthia explains she thinks Art Life upper management are content to wait for eviction notices to be served to the remaining tenants.
Cynthia: "I think even if everyone paid what they owe and next month's, management wouldn't change their mind."
MAVERICK: "Why?"
Cynthia: "I think they want to renovate the building. Getting everyone out lets them do that. Spruce it up, hike the rent...I lie awake at night wondering if that's legal. I've never evicted a whole building."
MAVERICK: "One of my colleagues bumped into one of Abigail's neighbours. Mr. Post, Lewis Post I think. Same story with him?"
Cynthia: "Yeah, same as the rest. More or less."
MAVERICK: "More or less?"
Cynthia: "He called me the end of March this year, said he'd be late on the rent, but not to worry and then he started asking me about the building."
MAVERICK: "And you did?"
Cynthia: "Yeah, but I wish I hadn't."
She names a few books she picked up, as Lewis wanted more than just what Art Life had on the Macallistar. MAVERICK wonders why, but she explains Lewis was nice and she was curious herself.
"It's a weird building. Always made me feel...off, being there. I can't remember the last time I went in person."
MAVERICK: "What did you learn? I have the architect's name. Daribondi."
Cynthia: "Asa. Asa Daribondi. The Macallistar was built in 1921. He designed it. He...there was a fire at his office on Mott Street in 1950 and he disappeared. He...he was a murderer, Agent Delapore. They found a child's body on the premises. After that, I stopped looking into it."
There's a long silence. The MAVERICK asks her for keys to the unoccupied apartments. He tells her a story about how when he started out in the Bureau, he was involved in a missing person's case. A little girl and in the end, they found her hiding in her treehouse.
Cynthia: "You think Abigail's still in the building? In one of the empty units?"
MAVERICK: "I don't know, but I can't discount it. I don't think she was in a normative state of mind before she disappeared."
Cynthia considers things. The plates are cleared and the coffee served.
Cynthia reaches into her handbag and removes something. "If management don't care about the building, I don't see why I should either." She hands him a master key. "Don't lose this and borrow it for...give it back to me when you're done."
True to his word, MAVERICK pays the bill.
"I hope you find her, her find something to maybe help. She was nice."
MAVERICK and Cynthia say their goodbyes and he heads to Kips Bay.
In the interim, MIRANDA has joined MILHOUSE and MAIN in the coffeeshop, with MALATESTA arriving with weird painting in tow not long before MAVERICK's arrival.
Unable to contain his excitement, MALATESTA nearly unveils the painting right then and there.
MALATESTA: "You won't believe-"
MIRANDA: "Let's not talk about this here."
MALATESTA: "No, I know, but-"
Coffeeshop patrons are giving the table weird looks.
MIRANDA: "Let's not talk about this here."
MALATESTA: "I was jus-"
MIRANDA: "Let's not talk about this here."
Some of the people are frowning, scowling almost.
MILHOUSE (to the other patrons): "Sorry. Sorry."
MAVERICK arrives not long after and the team reconvenes in the apartment to share what they've learned and determine any plans.
Unable to contain himself, MALATESTA reveals the painting. Everyone except MAIN passes the SAN check for the realisation of what it depicts. MAIN takes 4 SAN loss and does not project. Closing in on his breaking point, MAIN is confused and unable to fully process what's going on and throws himself into another search of the apartment.
MIRANDA is concerned about further exposure to the para-natural and wonders if there is anything they can do to take care. All they can do is be cautious.
MAVERICK wants to make a sweep of the empty apartments in the building. MILHOUSE agrees to partner up with him on that front after informing the group of the Ars Goetia. MIRANDA makes a phone call using a booth in the street to reach Hugo and give him the name.
MAVERICK & MILHOUSE examine the results of their experiment about the weird fridge. It looks like whatever is happening in the apartment, it's not just the fridge. (The book could not in anyway have given me anything to account for that, so I just ran with it. Felt appropriate). MAVERICK takes no damage from his SAN check despite failing. He expected to find it that way. MILHOUSE is also fine.
I'm sure that means nothing...
MALATESTA and MIRANDA stay with MAIN in Abigail's apartment to conduct a further search. The three who remain received a +20% bonus to their search rolls and all pass as MAVERICK & MILHOUSE leave to check the building (They can make rolls in the apartment on their return).
They exit the apartment at 2:30pm.
Within, MALATESTA, MAIN & MAVERICK find the following:
A rent receipt with Abigail's name, undated and signature unreadable.
A page of typed script which appears to be a play Abigail was writing. Several names are mentioned: Michelle, Mark & Thomas. Michelle is the first name of one of Abigail's neighbours, right?
A plane ticket in the name of Michael Witwer from Las Vegas to Boston, dated June 6th, 2015.

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Dorchester House, 2015
Dr. Dallon: "Must've been a fake? What with the date and all."
MAVERICK: "Must have been."

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Post-Mortem
Five players going in different directions was a little tough to juggle, but they were happy with the pace of play and I made sure everyone had something to do.
I knew we weren't going to get through an entire in-game day about an hour in and I should've taken a bit more time to line up what everyone wanted to do at the end of the previous session, but everyone still had fun. Lea put it well: it feels like there's a dam with information gathering against it and it's going to burst.
With four out of the five players having children, I took a short aside during MAVERICK's rp with Cynthia to do a table check. I know the players and they know me and I handled it in the right way as far as they were concerned.
Two sessions in and MAIN is the first character to close on his BP, being 3 or 4 (one bad roll) away from his first disorder. I appreciate this and his reasons for not projecting make sense, in-character. We'll see how that pans out.
In terms as to what's changed compared to the book, I saw no real reason not to give MAVERICK more info on the architect. Rewarding good roleplay is something I enjoy doing and as far as I'm concerned, he did everything he needed to in-character to get what he got. I also saw no reason why the phone call between Cynthia and Lewis Post could not have conceivably happened. So far, all he has are book titles and info about Daribondi's misdeeds and little else. Getting more will require time investment and skill checks where appropriate.
Our next session is TBD due to life stuff and until then, be seeing you.