Chunks of dark green phlegm

The planet was Gethsemane. The terraformers had wanted to make it into a paradise. The war had turned it into hell.
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Gethsemane had been one of the more developed frontier worlds, with its own heavy industry and a population numbering in the hundreds of millions. That was lower now, of course, but it was still a vital strongpoint: whichever side held it could supply their forces across the sector from its output. The Krr'za'skrr - as the officers liked to call them - had landed on the eastern continent early in the war and dug in. The colonial forces had held onto the western and south-western continents, where most of the population and industry were, but they hadn't been able to dislodge the enemy beachhead. The campaign had ground on and on, lines moving back and forth. The shield umbrella was so extensive now you could probably walk from one side of the planet to the other without leaving its protection.
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Extensive, but not unbroken. Every so often an attack would succeed in breaking through, take down the enemy shield emitters. That was never easy, of course; every emitter was heavily guarded by layers of trenches and bunkers, and built to withstand rockets, energy weapons, and EMPs. But it happened, and when it did the orbital bombardment would begin. Large parts of Gethsemane were either covered in fortifications, or pock-marked wasteland from where the fortifications had been erased by the ships in orbit.
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I learned the rhythm of battle pretty quickly. Approach the shield terminus, where the energy barrier met the ground. Preferably from an angle where the enemy positions didn't have line of sight on you. Dig a hole underneath, without breaking the surface, and hope they don't see you do it. Shore up the hole, and excavate enough of a tunnel for two marines in armour to stand shoulder to shoulder; any narrower than that, and you won't be able to retreat. If you've got time, make it large enough to get a vehicle through, but you won't have time because the Knifers always react before then. That was the preferred military slang, by the way: Knifers. The Krr'za'skrr had a weird fetish for battle knives, and used them every opportunity they got.
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Not that they didn't have plenty more dangerous weaponry. If you had time to get a tunnel under the shield at all, they'd likely show up before you'd got the whole platoon through. If they were really early you'd be forced back with grenades and rockets; ballistic artillery was useless because shells would just hit the shield, so you had to get quite close to use explosives. But if you had time to form a perimeter inside the shield umbrella, they would attack with energy rifles.
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I knew those energy bolts all too well. I still had a little scar on my shoulder as a reminder of my first encounter with them.
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Sometimes, they drove us back. Sometimes, we drove them back. The first few battles I was in were really just skirmishes. Then they sent us to the mountains. There was one, long mountain chain separating the western and eastern continents that formed a natural defence for the enemy to build their main fortification line. Two months into my tour on Gethsemane the navy finally got back full orbital control again, having fought several fleet battles to drive the enemy's ships out of the system. They never stayed away for long, so the brass decided now was time for a major ground offensive.
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The original name for the mountains had been something dry and academic; 'Tectonic Formation Alpha', something like that. A some point during the long and bitter slaughter over them, someone had given them a real name: Golgotha.
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I'd never seen mountains until that first dawn riding the transport shuttle out to the forward bases. You can't imagine what it was like to see the sun rising over the peaks for the first time, glinting off the ice. They said the Golgotha chain was higher than the Himalayas in places, although I'd never seen them either. All I knew was that in their shadow, suddenly all the vast might of the two opposing armies seemed small. We could kill each other here for a thousand years, and the mountains would still be there just the same as ever.
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They gave us some perfunctory training in using oxygen masks. Then they sent us in.
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First shield was easy. The roaches - sorry, but I'll never stop calling them that - knew we were coming, but command had disguised the build up and feinted towards the north the day before, drawing away their forces. We took them by surprise, and had three full platoons under the shield barrier before they realised what was going on. Once they opened up on us our short-range heavy mortars started firing to crater the ground, giving us cover. Then we advanced.
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I was in a squad with Erin and Yukio, two boys called Garett and Eli we'd met in basic, and five more guys who were on their second tour, including the corporal, Lee. Never found out if that was a first name or a second name. We were the third squad under the shield, and we were able to get a good two hundred metres before the bolts of energy started hissing past us. Then, explosions, as the mortars blew up mushrooms of earth in front of us. We slid into the craters, took a breather, then started scrabbling up the opposite side. In position, we started firing, laying down cover for the squads behind us.
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Crater, advance, crater, advance, until we were within a hundred metres of their shield emitter. Then there was an explosion inside the barriers protecting the emitter - not even sure whether it was a lucky mortar shot or one of our squads had made it inside - and the shield snapped off. One moment we were pushing forward, then we were running back, so the guns of the battleships in orbit could scrape the ground clean.
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The next shields weren't so easy. The further up the mountain we went the harder it got. Several times we were forced to pull back and regroup. Once one of our squads didn't make it back to the tunnel before the enemy collapsed it with a grenade. I watched them from the other side of the shield, just a few metres away, as they were pushed back up against the almost invisible barrier, trapped, panicking and begging for help, before one by one they were cut down.
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The enemy came forward to finish the last survivors with knives. I'd never seen them that close before, they were always just a shadow in the distance. Four spider-like legs, all connected to the same point at the bottom of the abdomen. Four arms, one pair on the abdomen and one pair on the torso. I couldn't see it under their armour but I knew their exoskeleton was black and chitinous, like a scorpion. I could see their faces. Their mouth-parts were almost wasp-like, but their eyes... they had four of them, two on either side of their head that were black, but the two that faced forward were disturbingly like ours.
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The knives plunged into the dying marines. And they chanted: 'Krr'za'skrr, Krr'za'skrr!'
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I don't know what they got out of that, but whatever it was those particular roaches didn't have time to enjoy it for long, because we popped that shield that afternoon. Then it was tunnel fighting, clearing out bunkers driven deep into the mountainside. Darkness and terror, pushing through narrow passages knowing that the enemy could be around any corner. I remembered what that felt like all too well.
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First two days, our battalion took thirty percent casualties. Could have been worse. Our squad lost two guys, one missing a leg, one dead. Didn't know him well, but it was still tough watching the medics zip up the body bag. Replacements arrived with hours, and we kept pushing forward.
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Third day, we were past the first mountain and in the valley beyond. Would have been a nice place, if you didn't need an oxygen mask to breath properly. The valley was covered by a single shield emitter sitting by a lake. We had to circle round the edge of the shield for quite a way before we found a spot that wasn't covered by the enemy's bunkers. The tunnelling started before dawn: six companies, over a thousand marines. We got maybe half of them through before the enemy realised it wasn't a feint, and counterattacked.
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The air was so full of lights it was like they were putting on a firework display for us. Stick your head up out of the crater, and you'd get it shot off. That was what happened to Garett: he tried to take a peek, and then he fell back down with the top of his head missing. They had us pinned down pretty good at first and I thought that the officers would have to order the retreat back under the shield, but then the rocket launchers moved up and started taking out the heavy weapon nests. That gave us just enough breathing space to open up the bridgehead and start pushing them back.
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It was still a slaughter. Diving from cover to cover, snapping off a few shots then having to get down as they turned the rapid fire energy blasters on you. I was lying on my back in a crater, watching bolts flicker past just a metre above my head and wondering why the hell I'd volunteered for this, when Erin shook my arm.
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"What?", I asked, and then I saw what she was pointing at. Corporal Lee was on his back too, eyes wide staring up at the sky. Except he wasn't looking at anything anymore. Not with that big hole through his chest.
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"What do we do?", she asked.
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"We should go back.", Eli said. "Link up with another squad."
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"No.", I said firmly. "That would just put us in the line of fire again, then we'd just be sent forward again anyway. We hold this position, wait for reinforcement."
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Yukio was the only one still firing, bobbing up, snapping off a shot, then repositioning. Calmly and methodically, like she was still on the range back at basic. I pulled her down into the crater. I didn't want the enemy focusing on us, not while we were so exposed. Just hold this little salient, wait for the rest of the company to catch up, then we could start pushing forward again.
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Except they didn't catch up. Instead, it was the enemy that started pushing forward, and I realised I'd fucked up, because it was now too late to go back: they were covering our escape route. The good news was that in order not to mow down their own soldiers, the heavy weapons had lightened up a bit. We could at least move now, and although going back was now off limits, the ground to our right sloped downwards, giving us some cover.
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I told the others to get ready to make a break for it. Not everyone was convinced. "We should be heading back to the shield.", one of the older guys hissed at me. Marcos, I think his name was. "If we don't get back before the Knifers reach it..." He didn't need to finish that sentence, everyone knew you had no chance if the enemy reached the shield before you did.
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"We won't make it if we try to go back.", I told him firmly. "We're too far forward. This is our only route out: we head that way...", I gestured to our right. "... get away from the main combat line here, and try to find a quieter spot to dig under the shield."
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"Listen to her.", Erin backed me up. "She usually knows what she's talking about."
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Did I? How did I know which path led to life, and which path led to death? Was I using the experience I'd gain in basic training and the weeks we'd already spent on Gethsemane to judge the best option? Or was I just throwing the dice?
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How do you make that choice, knowing that if you choose wrong, you die?
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"You guys do what you like.", said Yukio, deadpan as usual. "But I'm sticking with Leah."
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Trusting in your friends is one way to choose. Wish I'd had that luxury, but I didn't, it was on me to make a decision. So I did.
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I guess I'll never really know if I made the right call because I was smarter or because I got lucky. But one by one we rolled out of the crater and started sliding down the slope, towards the lake, keeping low as the sounds of weapons fire receded in the distance. The shores of the lake were overgrown with reeds and rushes, the perfect hiding place. I led us along the shoreline a little way, hoping that when I saw the route out it would be obvious.
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Then I looked across the lake, and I had an idea.
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"Have we got sandbags?", I asked. Sometimes one person per squad was issued a roll of plastic bags that could be used for field fortifications. Marcos raised his hand.
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"What're you thinking?", Erin asked.
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"I'm thinking about going for a swim."
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Quickly, I explained my plan to them. We'd make the sandbags into flotation devices, using the oxygen from our tanks. We'd have to leave most of our gear behind, including our armour. Too heavy. Just take our weapons and our breathing gear. And some explosives. While the enemy were concentrating on pushing back the rest of the battalion to the shield, we'd paddle across the lake. Take it nice and slow, look like just a couple of pieces of driftwood. And hopefully any guards around the shield emitter on the opposite shore would be focused on the fighting in the distance, rather than eight jarheads wearing nothing but shorts and T-shirts.
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Why did they choose to follow me? I had no authority, they could have left me to get myself killed and got back to base on their own. No one would have blamed them. But without even really arguing about it, they started stripping off and inflating the sandbags. The mood wasn't exactly confident, but I think we all felt the potential payoff was worth the risk. When you don't know what to choose, choose to do the right thing.
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That lake was a lot bigger than it looked from the shoreline. Colder, too. Even in bright sunshine that fresh mountain water was not too far from freezing. But we made it across, to our surprise, although we weren't half as surprised as the guards on the wall around the shield emitter. We shot them down before they even noticed we were there, planted the demo charges, and then had to fight our way out.
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Marcos got hit in the leg as we were pulling back. Clean shot, through the muscle, but he had to be carried out. Yukio, Eli and me stayed behind to keep the roaches back while the others carried Marcos out, Erin on point. I honestly thought that was going to be how I died. Once we'd given the others time to get clear I'd order Yukio and Eli out of there, then hold them back until the charges blew.
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My stupid idea, so if anyone stayed behind it should be me. That was mostly what I was thinking. But there was a part of me that thought: if I got to choose how I died, this would be it. At least this was worth dying for. Not standing in half-finished trenches with a militia that barely knows how to fire their guns, facing an enemy you don't stand a chance against. Not huddled in a muddy alley, trying to shield your child. Not alone in the dark, terrified, as the monsters closed in. I wasn't looking for a family reunion, but if I did ever get to see my parents and my brother again, I wanted to be able to tell them that my death wasn't like theirs. My death meant something.
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Then the roaches realised we'd already rigged the emitter to blow, and broke off their attack to try save it. I almost went after them to try and keep them from disarming the demo charges, but Yukio grabbed my shoulder.
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"Nothing more we can do.", she said, like we were on mess duty scrubbing the kitchen. "Let's go."
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We got back to the lake just in time to see the fireball burst up above the wall. Erin whistled, and laughed.
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"Well that was easier than I expected."
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"What were you expecting?", I asked.
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"That we'd be dead by now."
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"Thanks for the vote of confidence."
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"Take it as a compliment.", she said. "Ain't just anyone I'd risk my ass for like that."
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Still the best compliment I've ever received. Didn't have time to dwell on it, though, we had to paddle all the way back across the lake. It was the only safe way out of there, as fire began to rain down from the sky. Every few seconds we felt the shockwave of another orbital strike wash over our heads, and the ripple pass through the water beneath us. When we got to the other shore, we stared in awe at hell we'd let loose. What had started the day as a green mountain valley was now a flaming wasteland. Well, that's war for you.
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Turned out the drill sergeants were right. I was corporal material after all. They gave me a medal to go with my promotion, too, although they had to pin it on me in the hospital because a week later I got shot up trying to clear a mountain tunnel. Nothing to serious, I was back on the line within a few days, but I was riding high after my big score and it was a much-needed reminder that I was still mortal.
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The Golgotha campaign was a success. Finally, after years of stalemate, the lines on Gethsemane were moving again. I won't say it was all down to me, but I like to think I threw on a little of the extra weight that finally tipped the scale in our favour. At the end of our tour, they gave the whole battalion a campaign medal, but I was one of the few who were listed on the commendation rolls. I also got mentioned in a news report on a network that was interstellar; even people all the way back on Earth saw my name.
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When I got back to Concord I put the medal in my private, off-base locker where I kept my mother's jewellery and Noah's blankey. I liked to think they would have been proud of me.
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Yukio got sent off to sniper school as soon as we got back, and we didn't see her again for six months. By that point we were already fighting again on Caledonia Prime. That was a picnic compared to Golgotha. Back to Concord, then out again to Victoria. Then back and forth... Nuevo Leon, then Kongu Nadu, then... half a dozen other places. I've been bounced around the galaxy so much I've forgotten half the worlds I've fought on.
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I made sergeant before I turned twenty one. Then first sergeant, then master sergeant. I'd like to say it was all down to talent, but it's easy to get promoted in a war that chews up people like a harvester threshing wheat. They're even talking about sending me to officer school. Not sure how I feel about that; I used to be quite a good student, back on New Montana, but school in the refugee camps didn't exactly leave me with an academic mindset. They say at twenty-five I'm still young enough to learn. Personally, I feel old as fuck.
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It may be a moot point anyway. The war has shifted in our favour, we're retaking planet after planet. I'm told we even planted the flag on New Montana again, although I was on the other side of the sector, thankfully. More memories there than I care to deal with right now. We've even started pushing into enemy space; fighting on roach worlds is a whole new kind of warfare, but we've adapted. It may not be long now before they run out of holes to crawl into.
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I don't know what I'll do if the war ends and I'm still alive. It never occurred to me that might happen. I'm not sure I could go back to civilian life, I've seen a hell of a lot of things no one should ever see. Then again, that was true before I joined up as well, and I found a way to cope.
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You know one of the things that sticks with me, out of all the deaths and all the fear and all the insanity. On Nuevo Leon we captured a Krr'za'skrr footsoldier. He was missing a couple of limbs and he could barely sit up, because you don't capture them if they still have the strength to fight back, but he was alive and capable of talking. We had a translator built into the comm unit, so we asked him: why are you fighting us?
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"Because the Hierarchy ordered us to."
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We pushed him, tried to get him to explain the reason the Hierarchy gave him for the war. He didn't even understand the question. The Hierarchy didn't have to explain themselves to the likes of him: they ordered, and he obeyed. From what he said before he finally kicked the bucket, that was pretty much how ordinary roaches lived their whole lives: the bosses told them what to do and they did it. They weren't mindless drones: some missions they enjoyed and some they didn't. They liked getting a chance to use their knives, but they didn't like dying anymore than we did. Didn't matter much either way: the idea what they liked should have some influence on what they did was... well, an alien concept to them.
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The roaches that killed my family didn't even know why they were doing it. They didn't choose to be there. They were just given their orders, and carried them out, and they had no idea that they could do anything differently.
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How do you make a choice?
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I've had a lot of time to think about that over the years, and all I can say is that you never know if you're making the right choice or not. But you can make sure you're doing it for the right reasons. That's what counts. Maybe I'll get out of the marines alive, and maybe I won't, but either way joining up was the best thing I ever did. I chose to put myself on the line for the people I cared about, and I'll never regret that.
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Maybe you screw up some times, make some bad choices. It happens. But then you just try to do it right next time. The important thing is that you make a choice at all. That's what makes us human, and that's also why humanity is worth fighting for.
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And it's why we're going to win.
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It was just a raid. The Krr'za'skrr had left almost as soon as they arrived. Just drop into orbit, hit the main population centres, and pull back again before reinforcements could arrive. They hadn't stayed more than a day. A day had been enough for what they came to do.
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Everyone was dead. Well, almost everyone. A few like me had managed to find some corner to hide in, or slipped through the net entirely and made it out of the town. Some had been hit and left for dead, but made it through the night. Not many, though; the aliens liked to finish defeated enemies with a knife, some kind of ritual. A couple of people had survived pinned under the bodies of their families and friends.
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All together, out of the whole town of thirty thousand people a few dozen were left. Maybe a hundred or two... I'm not sure the exact count, but it wasn't even enough to fill the sports hall of my school, which is where they put us. The military had also set up a bunch of screens up displaying the names of the dead, collected from the ID chips on the bodies, so we could check for our families. See if there was still hope.
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There wasn't. Names were added to the list as the bodies were found, so you could see who they'd been found with. My dad had been with a bunch of other men; militia. He must have died in the trenches at the edge of town. I didn't react when I read his name because really, I'd already known. I kept scanning down the list. Shelter six, our neighbourhood's shelter, was there. I could tell from the cluster of names I recognised: neighbours, friends, kids I'd played in the street with. But not my mother, and not my brother.
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They were further down. It didn't say where they were found, or what had happened to them. But the names were right next to each other. I'll never know how they died. Shot down in an alley, caught in an explosion... or cornered, and finished with knives. I wake up some nights, sweating, still seeing the afterimage of their deaths. Different scenario each time; which nightmare is true, I'll never know, and that's for the best. At least I know they were together.
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I went back to the cot that had been set out for me and I cried until I physically couldn't any more. No one tried to comfort me; they all had their own misery to carry without taking on mine. A few more survivors were brought to the school, and a lot more names were added to the board. Almost everyone in the shelters had been slaughtered; they might have protected people from stray shots, but they'd done almost nothing to keep the roaches out. The ones who'd survived were the ones like me who found somewhere else to hide.
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After three days sitting on a cot eating nothing but military rations, a lieutenant came and announced that we were being shipped out. Just like that, New Montana was being abandoned. They war planners had realised what anyone with half a brain could have told them three years ago: that defending a small frontline colony like that was untenable. Less than ten percent of the population survived the raid. In the towns, it was less than one percent. Now there was nothing left to defend, it wasn't even worth trying.
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They told us to go home pack whatever we could fit in one bag. Only things you really need. I sat on the cot for a while waiting for someone to take me home, before I realised no one was going to and I'd have to take care of myself. The streets still had bloodstains, and I passed a truck piled up with corpses waiting to be taken to the mass graves they'd dug with mining excavators at the edge of town. They'd brought the power grid back on line at least, so when I got in I stripped off the T-shirt and shorts I'd spent the last week in, and showered.
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Everything looked so normal. Everything looked like my parents had just gone to the store and would be back any moment, bringing Noah with them. But no one was coming home again. I stood in the shower just letting the water run down my back until my skin wrinkled like dried fruit. After I got out, I didn't even bother to get dressed; there didn't seem to be any point. I wandered round naked, wet hair cold against my back, pulling out drawers and cupboards at random. Trying to decide which bits of my life I could afford to take with me. School art project from when I was eight? A framed photo of all of us just after Noah was born? The book my parents had given me - real paper - when I graduated from primary school?
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How do you make that choice? A whole life, and you can only take whatever can fit in a backpack.
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Easy: leave it all. The life I'd had here was over. The roaches had killed it just as dead as everything else.
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I finally dried out my hair and got dressed, then I folded three sets of clothes and seven sets of underwear, and crammed them in the bottom of the bag. I had a super-folding coat, the kind you get in survival kits, that could be compressed down to the thickness of cardboard, so I took that too. I didn't know if we were supposed to bring food but I threw in a few cereal bars, just in case. No point in taking a phone, they'd all been fried by the EMP. Documents; birth certificate and passport. I found the physical copies in the closet in my parents' room. I took my mother's jewellery as well, in case I needed to sell it. A few more odds and ends, like tampons, and a knife.
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After waiting a long time, I went into my brother's room. I took his blankey. I could leave my life behind, but not his. I needed something. I also took one of the family photos out of the frame, the most recent, from my last birthday.
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When I got to the muster point I could see they were dismantling the shield emitter and crating it up. They were taking a lot of care with it, but then, it was more valuable to the military than any of the actual people. I'd say it hadn't done us much good, but if it hadn't been for the shield the roaches would probably just have flattened us from orbit.
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The last I saw of New Montana was from the window of the shuttle as we reached orbit. All the way below us stretched green fields and forests. You couldn't tell a massacre had happened there at all.
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Then the shuttle swung round, and there was the blocky, pock-marked troop transport that was going to take me to my new life.
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I don't think anyone called me Leah for months after that. Whenever someone needed me they barked 'Olsson'. The nurses in the med centre giving me vaccinations. The cooks on the mess line. The harassed looking corporal who was supposed to be in charge of making sure all the kids had someone responsible for them, and then the civilian liaison, who had me and twenty other orphans assigned to her.
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The less said about the refugee camps, the better. Prospero, New Phoenix, Regulus... I had my head shaved for the first time on Regulus. Lice outbreak. Apparently even in this day and age they can't keep the damn things down except with clippers.
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Six months earlier I would have bawled my eyes out at the sight of all my long, blonde hair being swept along the floor. By that point, I was all out of tears.
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Was I a good girl, who followed the camp rules and didn't get into any trouble? Was I fuck. The cliché for a kid like me would have been to fall in with some bad people, start hanging around a gang, get into doing dangerous things for stupid reasons. And I suppose, in a way, I did - although I'll leave it to history to judge how stupid it was.
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The military were everywhere around the refugee camps. The worlds we were sent to were only a little further back from the front line; no time and no ships to take us further, and no one on Earth, or Centauri, or any other developed world who wanted us. The war had turned all the major worlds along the frontier into staging posts for the military build-up, and the military was responsible for moving us around and making sure we got fed. Another reason not to send us any further: it was simpler if the camps and the military bases shared logistics.
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There wasn't much for a kid to do in the camps. They tried to organise schooling, but people came and went so often it was hard to get consistent teachers, and hard to keep track of which kids were meant to be in which class. And if you didn't feel like sitting in a tent while some shell-shocked old woman tried to explain Shakespeare to you, well, it wasn't like anyone was going to bother chasing you down. Juvenile guardians came and went with the same frequency; most of them saw me so little I doubt I was anything more than a name on a list to them. And any who did care enough to try and help... well, let's just say I didn't reward them for their efforts. Looking back, I kind of wish I'd cut them some slack. It wasn't their fault they were useless, they did the best they could with what they had. But with almost everything being fed into the war effort, what they had usually wasn't very much.
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So I ended up hanging out with the marines. Why? Why does any teenage girl hang out with a bunch of young men with abs you could break rocks on. How old was I? I'd been in the camps a while by this point; pick a number that makes you feel comfortable. And however old I was, they weren't much older. Eighteen, nineteen years old, about to be sent off to the front where the casualty lists grew by thousands every day. At the time they seemed so mature, so confident, but I look back and all I see is a bunch of kids, trying to use bravado to mask their terror.
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Those kids saved me. It would have been so easy for me to fall in with the gangs. There were plenty of them in the camps, running all sorts of rackets just below the radar of the authorities. More or less. Occasionally someone would get stabbed, a sweep would be done, everyone would get their tents tossed over and a few guys would get hauled off to the stockade. Things would quieten down for a bit, then the petty violence and extortion would resume, and nothing much changed. I could have found a place in that life easily enough.
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But it made a difference to me, that the marines were fighting for something. A real cause, protecting humanity, while the gangs got themselves killed over petty squabbles and greed. So I chose to hang around the military base rather than the gang dens, without knowing at the time just what an important choice that was. Because they were heroes to me. I'd sit on a bunk listening with rapt attention as the one marine in the room who'd actually seen combat embellished his stories to the hilt.
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Then I'd have to hide because there was an officer coming. Or worse, a sergeant. Those drill sergeants were mean as fuck, they didn't care if you were a little girl: no civilians on base after dark meant no civilians on base after dark, and they'd happily give you a few bruises to remind you not to come back. More than once me and my clothes got thrown out the front gate separately, and then I had to find my shorts in the dark while giving the middle finger to the MPs laughing at me.
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Didn't stop us. And I say us, because there was a big group of kids who were always hanging around the barracks. Girlfriends, boyfriends, but also kids who could pawn stuff for you, run gambling, find recreational substances. I straddled all of those lines and more. Half the economy on those bases was run by teenagers wearing military boots and camo jackets three sizes too big for them. The gangs would have loved to get in on that action, but the bases and their suppliers were off limits to them, and they knew it. Get between a squad of marines and their weed, and best case scenario you'd be found in an alley missing half your teeth.
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Life stabilised. The government started to realise the people in the camps were never going to be resettled, at least not until the war was over, so they did what they could for them there. Tents became huts, huts became proper buildings. They stopped moving people around so much, and communities started to form. The camp I was in got renamed from 'Transit Camp 331' to Concord.
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For the first time since New Montana, I had friends. Both among the soldiers and the other kids. In fact, since I'd never exactly been Miss Popular back on New Montana, I had more friends than I'd ever had back home. Everyone on base knew me, and liked me. Partly because once I finally came out of my shell it turned out I was actually quite fun to be around, and partly because I could get things for people that they couldn't get otherwise. Having found myself unsuited to literature or history or any of the other subjects they tried to teach in the makeshift schools, I did at least get a detailed education in pharmacology and economics.
​
The drill sergeants still gave me the stink eye, but there were enough young lieutenants around who needed to take the edge off that they couldn't keep me out for long. I had friends, I had money, and I had a community. It was maybe the happiest time of my life.
​
And if I ever stopped to think about that, that I hated myself. Because it was like I was betraying everyone I'd left behind on New Montana. Friends, neighbours, people I'd grown up with my whole life until that day when the roaches came. But especially my parents, and especially Noah. I'd take out Noah's blankey, that I'd dragged all that way from camp to camp, and I'd beg him to forgive me for forgetting about him long enough to enjoy myself. And for leaving him behind, that night.
​
It got better, as time went by. Guilt fades. You never forget, but at some point, it loses its power to hurt you. Like a drug you're exposed to so often you develop a tolerance. And when the guilt doesn't hit so hard that you break down crying in the night, you can step back and ask yourself: is this really what they would have wanted for you? Torturing yourself over and over again over something you can't change. And that wasn't your fault anyway.
​
If the people I'd lost hated me that much, I wouldn't have been crying over them in the first place.
​
Finally, I started letting myself enjoy happiness. I'd found my niche and I thrived in it, and it might not have been the life my parents - or any parents - would have wanted for their daughter, but it was mine and I was happy with it.
​
So why did I leave it? I could have coasted in that life for a while, I finally had something going my way.
​
Instead, when I turned eighteen I joined the marines.
​
I told people it was because I wanted to get payback against the roaches. For my colony, for my family. That was a motive people could understand. But it wasn't that. I didn't hate the roaches, except in an abstract kind of way; they were too remote, too alien. You might as well hate the weather.
​
You think I was just a stupid kid dreaming about glory and medals and all that shit? That I didn't know what I was signing up for? I knew what war was, I saw it the night it came to New Montana. And I'd spent enough time around marines to know what happened at the front. Not that they talked about it much. But I saw the fresh battalions go out to the front, then get rotated back three, four months later, with people missing, and with people who were missing something in their eyes. I knew war, in the small hours of the night when some boy who'd just finished his first tour needed someone to hold him while he sobbed.
​
So how did I make that choice? Life, or death?
​
I signed up because the marines gave me life. When I was a lost, angry kid, those stupid, drugged up, immature jarheads were there for me. Maybe not always with the best of intentions, but they made sure I was fed properly, and wasn't hassled by the gangs, and had some place to go where I could have fun and forget I was stuck in what was the next best thing to a prison camp. But more than anything, because they treated me like I was a more than just a surname on a register. I was Leah to them, not just Olsson. When they looked at me, they saw a human being. One of them.
​
Isn't fighting for humanity the whole reason we're in this war?
​
I couldn't sit there, watching my friends get sent to the front, knowing I could be there alongside them and instead had chosen to keep myself safe so they could be fed into the meatgrinder in my place. I couldn't do that, and stay human. I didn't know if it was the sensible choice to join. But I knew it was the right choice.
​
Besides, the draft kept getting expanded. I'd probably get called up sooner or later, but if I volunteered I could pick the branch I was sent to. Girls mostly got put in the navy; less heavy lifting. I wanted to make sure I was sent to the marines.
​
There were four of us girls from Concord, barracks brats who wanted to join. Erin, Yukio, Valentina, and me. I waited a few weeks after my birthday so we could all sign up together. Val didn't pass the physical, but the rest of us got shipped out to boot camp a week later.
​
I left my mother's jewellery and my brother's blankey in a locker, with instructions for what to do with them if something happened to me. I was surprised by how much it hurt to leave them behind, but in the end, I didn't look back.
​
When I got to boot camp, they shaved my head again. It was like saying hello to old Leah again, Leah from the bad old days. Except this time, I didn't just have to sit and take it. This time, I got to fight back.
​
Did I say I knew what I was signing up for? I'd been dodging drill sergeants for years, and basic training was still a special kind of hell for me. Most of the guys arrived there as scrawny kids who'd never exercised in their lives, and they were still in better shape than me, Erin and Yukio would ever be. The girls had a much higher wash-out rate; they'd still get sent to the front eventually, the military was too short of bodies not to use everyone it had, they just wouldn't be marines. But the wash-outs were mostly the conscripts. If you had the will, it could be done. There were points where I thought it would break me, but Erin and Yukio kept me going. And when they were at their limit, I kept them going.
​
The physical demands pushed me right to the edge, but at least I was good at the other stuff. Squad tactics, weapon drill, memorising the infantry manual. One drill sergeant said I might even have corporal potential, which from a drill sergeant is like being told you're the second coming of Jesus. Erin and Yukio didn't do so well with that kind of thing. Erin was tall enough that with her buzz cut you could mistake her for a guy, she did better at the physical stuff, including hand-to-hand combat. Yukio sucked at everything, until they put a rifle in her hands. Calm, patient, and able to stay that way even when there were explosions going off beside her. She could put a round through the bullseye every time, under any conditions.
​
Ten weeks of basic training at boot camp, then four more mandatory assessment and assimilation weeks (no prizes for guessing the jokes) on base before we could be shipped to the front. They sent us back to Concord for that, to our huge relief. We slotted into the battalion as if we'd never left, except now instead of being hangers-on we were a full, official part of the family. Guys who'd treated us like kids now treated us like equals.
​
And of course, the younger friends we'd had before we left, we now treated like kids. We got to show off our gear to them, including clothes that actually fit now. And our fresh tattoos: a spear through a star. Of course, since we were proper jarheads now, if any of the newbies left their still-raw tattoos exposed we'd slap it. You know, for good luck.
​
Six weeks after we got to Concord, our battalion was shipped out to the front.
​
Continued here: Our Choices Make Us Human (Part 3)

For a bit of context, Green and Black are my favorite colors gameplay-wise. I don't particularly identify with the color combo (I think I'm more of a Bant person with less emphasis on Green than on Blue and White), but I'm trying to understand it and, honestly, I don't think I get it.
The way it manifests in Magic, the game, seems to be through nature combined with death and decay. Everything dies and breaks down, but what it breaks down into had uses, including building new things, which will also die at something and restart the whole thing.
However, this sounds like it could be part of regular Green? I get that aesthetically, within the art and gameplay of Magic, mono-Green is more about verdant life and growing things, but thematically, Green is perfectly ok with death and decay, right? I don't see what Black contributes to that.
In terms of philosophy, I don't quite get it either. From what I've read online, Green and Black traits seem to combine but not mix. You accept some facts of life are inevitable (Green), but you still try to make your own circumstances better (Black). Rather than Golgari being it's own emergent philosophy, you act Green sometimes and act Black sometimes. I can understand why a natural creature or place corrupted by dark influence or death-related energy could be Green-Black, but I don't get how the colors manifest as part of a person's outlook.
Some Golgari characters (Jarad and Svogthir) even seem to seek eternal life through undead, which sounds contradictory to me. Shouldn't they be willing to die (not necessarly want or seek to, but be willing to accept it when it happens), decay and let their matter become something new, if that's their thing? That definitely sounds like they're more commited to Black than Green, with the Green-Black overlap being mostly aesthetics.
I fully expect to have gotten some things wrong, but I hope I didn't make a fool of myself. Thank you for your help!

[First Contact] [Dark Ages] [First] [Prev] [Next] [wiki]
"...You take my life, but I'll take yours too
You fire your rifle, but I'll gut you too
So when you're waiting for the next attack, You'd better stand, there's no turning back...."
-The Warsteel Lady Age of Reasonable Concerns war chant
And Lo, beyond the Chained Gate awaits the Crusade.
For time beyond time, they wait.
Their blind seers scan the stars, following the threads of karmic debt.
When they witness a snarl in those threads, a knot of destiny,
Then unseals the Chained Gate, and followed by screams they charge
To scourge the unclean with fire; to eradicate their filthy biological heresy.
Rest well, young one.
You are guarded by warriors most fell.
Sleep in peace under their gaze, and know safety even in war
For the Crusade exists to destroy enemies more terrible than mere soldiers,
Hellfire against heresy, that we may be steel against steel. - Black Neko Hymn, as transcribed from Engrish-Emoji by historian Willdissolver, Neko Marine Tradition and History Preservation Project
Those early days were the hardest.
They were also the best.
I stood shoulder to shoulder with the finest Telkan and Terrans ever created by the malevolent universe.
They, who stood with me, I call my brother. - Meditations on the Barrier War, Lancer First Class Imna, Free Telkan Press, 25 Post-Terran Emergence
He was laying on the pavement, his face hurting. He was crying, his stomach hurting from the boot impacts. Another Telkani reached down, lifted him up. They introduced each other, put their arms over each other shoulders, and staggered home.
Naxen. I'm Naxen.
He was sitting in class, back straight, hands folded on top of his desk, watching the teacher as she taught how numbers added to other numbers became even bigger numbers, and how to take away numbers to make the numbers smaller. He was smiling, content and happy. He liked school. He liked his teacher.
He wished she was his momma.
I'm Naxen...
Lawsec was holding his arms while another one punched him in the stomach. His book bags were laying on the ground, his dataslate broken, his books torn up, his homework scattered. They were laughing as they punched him.
Naxen
He was back to back with another Telkani, fighting the older boys who hung out on level 28 and stopped the elevator to extort people. He lashed out quick, striking and pulling back before someone could grab him arm. Their jackets had the shining hologram of a bird of prey on it.
I'm Naxen...
He was in school, paying attention to science. Most of the other Telk weren't paying attention, but he was. So was his best friend. They still believed that education would pull them out of the The Hive and into success and luxury.
His name is Wrixet...
The compujudge had decided he was guilty. Incorrible, despite the fact it was his first offense. Breaking curfew, on the way home from a study group. Juve-Cubes. One month.
He wondered if his mother cried.
I'm Naxen...
He was getting jumped in. The fists pounded him as he tried to fight back, but he was outnumbered fifteen to one, but he still fought, unwilling to go down easy. Finally the command was snapped to stop. The people who had just been punching him cheered and poured narcobrew on him.
They gave him his own jacket.
Naxen
His father yelling at his mother. His mother and his two sisters crying. He stepped up and grabbed the old man, spinning him around. He pushed his father against the wall, the knife in his hand against his father's throat. He growled threats. He growled promises. He let his father go and the drunk stumbled out the door.
His mother yelled at him.
But it was fine.
I'm Naxen...
High School. Hanging with Wrixet and the others. Going home. HIs mother zonked out on Zipper. His sister crying to her to make food. Going with Wrixet to get food. The promise of education was gone, replaced with sheer survival.
I'm Naxen...
Getting out of the Juve-Cubes, coming home. His sisters trying to get his mother interested in his return. She didn't care. She was hurting for a Zip. Trashing the house, looking for some Zipper. HIs sisters crying. He got some from another ganger. She hit the Zip and collapsed on the couch.
He went with Wrixet to get food. Wrixet had made sure his sisters were fed while he was Cubed.
I'm Naxen...
'don't leave me, please, don't leave me' the sobs moved through his brain.
There was a jolt to his chest and head and the memories shattered.
He could hear singing, faint and far away, but he couldn't tell what they were singing or who they were. A child giggling nearby and raced away.
Data and information poured into his brain. Sensor arrays, weapon types, electronic counter-measures, electronic counter-counter-measures, phasic inhibitors, ammoforge consumption rates.
Most of it didn't make sense. It hurt his brain, like pieces of sharp glass.
Disconnected ideas went through his brain, ideas, concepts, information that he had no frame of reference for.
Grazing fire, suppressive fire, close air support, artillery support, fire for effect, flanking maneuvers, fighting withdraw, directed fire, point defense operation
He had no frame of reference. The data, the information, the concepts stuck in his bruised and battered mind like chunks of broken glass.
ERROR LOADING DATA: MASSIVE CEREBRAL TRAUMA PROTOCOLS INITIATED
More data. This time it built on references. How to handle a rifle, how to throw a grenade, how to march, how to run, how to climb. How to take apart and reassemble an assault cannon, how to maintain his anti-nuclear, biological, nanite, atomic, radiation, biological warfare equipment. How to use a radio, how to give commands, how to follow them.
He was different species, different people, all their memories layering down into a foundation.
He screamed inside his own mind.
I'm Naxen I'm Naxen I'm Naxen
More was built on the foundation. Fighting on battlefields under strange suns. It locked into the foundation and he suddenly understood what flanking was, what grazing fire was, what suppressive fire was, what close air support was and how to call it in with mission variables and theater logistics constraints.
Where am I?
More was layered on. How to give commands. How to follow them. How to interpret them. What was a legal command and what was an illegal order. The rules of warfare. The Orion Convention. The Hague Laws of Warfare Treaty.
What is happening? Who is doing this?
More. Armored unit training. He was a tanker, he was an APC driver, he was a dismount crew, he was a power armor pilot, he was a warmek jock. He drove a thousand armored vehicles under a thousand suns.
It all layered smoothly on top of what he had been before.
SOMEONE WAKE ME UP!
More data. Himself. His sensor arrays, his point defense, his indirect fire weapons, his directed energy and projectile weapons, his battlescreens.
He was the will of the Telkan people made manifest.
SOMEONE WAKE ME UP!
Another jolt. He screamed.
UNIT ONLINE - STANDBY TUTORIAL MODE burned through his brain and he screamed.
Everything faded, pulled back.
He could hear gurgling, hear hissing, hear clicking and the whine of high capacity capacitors.
Everything was misty, formless, he floated in the middle of gray mist.
There was a knocking sound.
He looked around. He couldn't see anyone.
The knocking repeated.
"SOMEONE WAKE ME UP!" he screamed.
A doorway appeared in the mist, burning white edging around it. There was a knocking sound on it, then the sound of a doorbell. It was the doorbell of the shabby apartment he had grown up in, and he remembered that the doorbell quit working when he was eight.
The door opened and a Terran walked through.
He was tall, but somehow seemed squat, a squarish head, the reddish-brown hair cut so close Naxen could see his scalp. His skin was a tan color, like the stripes across Naxen's spine that laddered down his back.
The Terran looked around for a moment, reaching up and shading his eyes. He dug into a pocket of his comfortable looking pants and pulled out a detector of some sort.
"SOMEONE WAKE ME UP!" Naxen screamed, flailing about but unable to do anything.
The Terran walked forward, looking around, almost bumping into Naxen before he stopped.
Naxen flailed around some more.
The Terran looked around again.
"Huh. Not even a sitting space. Give me a moment," he looked up. "Mother, generate a three by three by two living space with dev textures and snapping grid in this eVR space please. Light at the following coordinates, six point two lumens, Telkan vision optimized."
"Complying," came a woman's voice.
A box appeared, surrounding Naxen. It had orangish textures, with white writing on it. There was a grid that the textures fit in perfectly. The light appeared.
"There you are," the Terran said. He reached out and touched Naxen's arm.
Naxen felt like he was falling and rising at the same time.
The Terran caught him.
"Easy, easy," the Terran said. He knelt down. "Tell the computer you need a lounging couch and a chair, a table with a bottle of wine and two glasses."
Naxen just gulped but followed the instructions, calling out the 'coordinates' as the Terran read them off.
The Terran moved over and set Naxen on the couch, then poured a glass of wine and handed it to him.
"You're real new. Newest I've seen in a long time," the Terran said, sitting down on the couch. He looked around. "The majority of your brain, you right here, is sleeping. You had some crossloading difficulty so Mother asked me to check on you."
"Where, where am I?" Naxen asked.
The Terran waved at the walls. "Enhanced VIrtual Reality Construct built in the firmware embedded in your neural tissue and in your sentience disaster catastrophic damage protection housing," he said. "Long story short, we're in your mind."
Naxen tasted the wine.
Nothing.
Like he was tasting air.
"Hang on," the Terran said, seeing Naxen's expression. "Mother, sensory layer activation, two point five percent strength."
"Complying," the female's voice said.
"Try again," the Terran said.
Naxen tasted it, expecting air.
Instead he got lost in the taste. The bubbles, his mind figuring out just how many per square micrometer on his tongue there were, their rate of popping, the mathematical formulae to determine order of popping. The chemicals, then the coding that simulated those chemicals. The viscosity of the water, its heat dispersion ability.
"Mother, drop it to one point five," the Terran said.
He could suddenly think. The wine was just wine.
"That should be a good baseline. Your dopamine receptors aren't completely blown out from too many combat highs," the Terran said. He reached toward Naxen, pulled out a folder from midair, then leaned back and flipped it open. "Huh, Lance Corporal, Telkan Marine Corps. Three tours of duty in combat zones. Five years total. Awards for bravery. No wound stripes. Minor discipline problems."
He set the folder on the table.
"You're an iffy candidate. Surprised the Dark Neko grabbed you," the Terran said.
Naxen looked at the folder. "I wasn't a Marine," he admitted.
The Terran frowned, picked up the file, and looked it over. "Genecode match. Phasic aura match. Says you're a Telkan Marine," he tapped the folder. "You saying this isn't you?"
Naxen shook his head. "It is me, but I never did any of that."
"Explain," the Terran said.
Naxen launched into it. How he'd gone to see the Cathedral. How the Warbound had woken up. How they'd been grabbed by Lawsec. How the government had shoved them into a cryopod. How he'd awoken on a station full of shades.
How the Hellshades had pulled him apart and he'd died in his friends arms.
"I'll be right back. I'm going to get Glædwine," the Terran said. He got over, stood at the wall, then tapped on it.
The door appeared and the Terran left.
Naxen looked around.
"VR, huh?" he said. He cocked his wrists.
The holographic keyboard sparkled to life.
It took him a minute to find the library.
SimTelkan had been his favorite game when he had been around 10.
He began moving in furniture, painting the walls, putting up windows with views on them.
He discovered that he could slave a camera feed to one of the windows and look out.
He was inside a massive bay, surrounded by other Warbound.
He shivered for a moment, closing his eyes.
Momma, momma, I got another A! went through his mind, his young, optimistic, happy voice echoing in his mind.
He put pictures of his family on the walls.
His mother, before the Zip and the sniffers got her too bad. His little sisters, before Momma had then slinging pink behind the clubs. All of them together.
All taken from his memories.
The doorbell rang and he moved over to it, opening it.
"Huh, still naked," a large Terran in a set of thin silk shorts and a tank-top belly shirt said. He was large, thick of muscle and bone, with a care worn face deeply lined.
Naxen looked down.
"oh, sorry," he said. He concentrated and was suddenly in a pair of comfortable pants, work boots, a t-shirt, and his vest.
"Yeah, not a Marine," the big human said.
"Yup. Every Telkan Marine Warbound always first generates themselves in their uniform," the Terran from earlier said.
Naxen concentrated and got a comfortable chair for the newcomer along with another six-pack of narcobrew. He moved over and sat down.
The newcomer picked up the file and looked at it, paging back and forth.
"It's fake," he said, tossing it on the table. He touched his temple. "Kelvak, you here?" He nodded. "Come on over to the new guy's house. Need you." He nodded again. "OK, see you in a bit."
"How do you know it's fake?" Naxen asked, curious.
"You have top scores in everything, combat awards for bravery, but..." the Terran leaned back and took a drink off the narcobrew. "Guy like that gathers awards in garrison too. No award for superior marksmanship. No awards or certificates for going above and beyond doing something like creating and deploying a new PT program. Only combat awards," he gave a sniff of disdain. "That's a civilian writing it."
There was a knock at the door.
It was another Telkan who stood there.
"Name's Kelvak. Kappa to the living," the Telkan said. He waved at the room. "May I come in?"
"Yeah, sure," Naxen said. He moved over and sat down after bringing up another chair. He felt a slight wave of dizzyness and rubbed his forehead with the bottle of narcobrew.
"Forged military record. Not his doing. Got sent out to die," the Terran, Glædwine, said. The other one nodded.
The Telkan listened to Naxen describe everything. At one point a little bird manifested on the Telkan's knee and he sat there, petting it.
WARNING! NAMING STARTUP SEQUENCE WILL ENGAGE! ALL VISITORS MUCH WITHDRAW!
All three of his guests nodded.
"We'll see you in a little bit, kid," Kelvak said. He looked around. "It looks nice."
"Thanks," Naxen said.
"Come by, we'll watch some Charlie the Moo Moo together," the first Terran, Joebob, said.
"OK," Naxen said.
"Or you can come by and watch Gurlz Und Lankiez," Glædwine laughed.
They withdrew.
NAMING STARTING SEQUENCING ENGAGING!
Wrixet passed Imna another narcobrew, lighting a T-Bug smokestick.
Suddenly that massive armored chassis jerked.
On its chest, the flat bronze plate burned with an inner light.
The symbol for Nu appeared.
The chassis suddenly shut down, slumping, and the fire vanished.
The plate was blank again.
"We should move back a little," Imna said, starting to stand up.
"No. I'm right here. Life and death, he's my brother," Wrixet said.
Imna sat back down.
The chassis jerked again. One clawed hand spasmodically opened and shut, the claws clacking. The feed mechanism for the 30mm dual barreled autocannon clacked as the action ran a half dozen times in less than a second.
The bronze plate lit.
The sigil for Nu appeared.
The chassis slumped. THe plate went dark.
The symbol vanished.
"You can do it," Imna said, leaning and patting the foot.
"We're right here, brother," Wrixet said.
The chassis jerked.
The plate burned.
The symbol for Nu appeared.
The huge war machine raised its arms and roared.
The numbers Four and Four appeared after Nu.
"I AM ENRAGED BY THE TEARS OF THE PODLINGS!"
[First Contact] [Dark Ages] [First] [Prev] [Next] [wiki]

Chapter One
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Prev
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-Factory Floor of the White Flame Industries Magifactory-
“First of all, I’d like to introduce you to your new co-workers. To reiterate, they aren’t directly from the hell-plane.” Master Demonologist Thippily was in his element, smiling and excited. He stepped aside to reveal an engraved chest behind him. He opened it, revealing a neat grid of small dark rods, each in their slot. He pulled out a single ebony imp totem and held it high so everyone could see it. The room was bright, lit by the narrow windows spaced evenly around the huge room, and some glass skylights overhead, and astonishing extravagance for Pine Bluffs.
“This is the totem. Without going into some super interesting details, this is what projects the imp, as well as binds it to our plane of reality.” Grigory paused, clearly waiting for someone to ask him to explain in more detail. Everyone in the room had fallen into that trap before and knew to keep their mouths shut. “They need to be invoked into our reality, but the invocation is a very simple gesture. Interestingly, the invocation itself doesn’t require magic, it’s all self-contained, just hold the thick side of the totem and–”
Grigory flicked the totem with a swift twist of his wrist, summoning a muted thunderclap that heralded the appearance of a tiny, dull-red demon. It materialised midair, landing with a soft clatter of hooves on the stone floor. It regarded its surroundings with its one big eye and sat down cross-legged, its big knobby knees sticking out widely.
Taritha, along with most of the rest of the audience, took some involuntary steps back in horror. It was grotesque, inhuman—a parody of a man, so diminutive that she could have trapped him in a woven basket. Though taller than a squirrel, its scrawny frame suggested it weighed no more than one. Sitting perfectly still it was less threatening, but the air itself stank of hell. Looking around, Grigory and Stanisk were both smiling, like they were waiting for us to get a funny joke, while the entire crew stared horrified at the little imp.
Grigory continued, with a showman’s cadence, ”First of all let me once again say they are safe! Imp! Take this knife and bring me Stanisk’s ear!” The demonologist crouched low with his silvered steel pocket knife on his open palm.
Before anyone could react, the imp just said, “Nerp.” Stanisk for his part didn’t look remotely worried.
“No matter what you ask it to do, it will refuse the order if it would hurt any living thing. Very safe! Well, large living things? People and animals for sure!” Grigory folded his knife and put it back in his pocket. “Come to the side, I’ll show you more why this is the most potent magic I’ve ever used. I’ve not finished furnishing your quarters yet, so let's work on that.” He led them across the floor to the side where a few planks were on one of the shelves, practically lost in the scale of the room.
As he spoke, he performed a different and more elaborate gesture over the chest. Like popcorn, a steady stream of imps popped into existence; Taritha lost count at twenty, with more continuing to appear. Without hesitation, they pulled tiny tools from boxes. The low, wide benches around the perimeter were actually imp-sized workbenches designed for such tasks. “Imps, craft one writing desk, sturdy with martial engravings. Use both pine and walnut,” he ordered.They moved quickly and confidently, and without a sound, other than the tools against the wood. It was an overwhelming swirl of activity, with so much happening at the same time that she couldn’t follow it all, so she focused on a single imp. He (it?) wielded a chisel in both hands and shaped a plank while two other imps held the plank firm. In as little time as it took for her to take it in, it was done. It started on another plank, while yet another imp ran away with the finished board.
Edging closer for a better look, their rapid, nimble movements were even more unnatural. Their limbs were long and agile, flitted about with eerie precision. The sight clawed at my gut, as revolting as watching a spider write a song with a quill on parchment. Their faces, such as they were, barely watched their own work.
Still reeling from what she saw, Taritha watched as one imp finished up and another sprinted away with the board. Then, the first imp picked up a tiny broom to tidy his workspace. Once the sawdust and shavings were cleared, it replaced its tools and sat down on the workbench, legs crossed, back straight and his single eye open and regarding the demonologist. Looking further down the row, she saw that the countless parts had been assembled into what was by all accounts an amazing desk. The imps covered the entire bench, still too many to count.
A pot wouldn’t have even started to boil in the amount of time it took them to build that thing!
Grigory noticed the discomfort in the room; everyone seemed torn between their unease with the demons and their curiosity about the work being done. He decided to remove their distraction. 'Imps, stand at the kilns,' he commanded crisply.
“Merp!”
The imps bounded and sprinted across the entire factory to stand by the kilns, well out of the way, and stood in straight rows at the far side of the factory floor.
“Take a look, It might be a familiar level of quality. Oh, and those are the only two words they seem to know.” He gestured to the completed desk on the bench.
“Holy shit, they are as good as the guys that made our stuff in the barracks, this is amazing!” Ros gushed.
The desk, crafted entirely from wood, had no screws or brackets—only amazingly intricate joinery. Its surfaces were smooth to the touch, except for the vertical faces, which displayed scenes of war and battle. They were created in a palette of carved white pine and deep walnut, shaded with hellfire scorches—some almost too small to see.
“You don’t think that, uh, they’re the same guys?” Rikad ventured.
“No, I haven’t been sleeping on a demon bed this whole time? Have I?” Theros said with growing horror.
“Of course! Not just that, the mugs in the cabinet, the bedding, the clothes, literally everything from the midsummer festival! Imps made it all, most of that was late at night in my bedroom, to be honest!” Mage Thippily said, bursting with pride.
Theros looked down at his bright green shirt, one he’d worn countless times, and immediately pulled it off, threw it on the floor and took a few steps back. “It was touching me!”
Wow, he’s in really good shape, Taritha observed approvingly. A refreshing reprise from the stressful morning.
I’ve no idea how I’d react if I knew I was wearing demon-made clothes. Oh shit.
“Uh, were all the clothes you’ve given me made by imps?” She asked Stanisk, already knowing the answer.
His laugh was deep and rumbling, “I sure as goat balls ain’t been sitting in the lamplight with a lil needle! It's fine miss, they’re handy as hell. Put yer damned shirt on Theros, and let’s keep moving.”
Grigory continued, “Yes, don’t worry too much about complex imp commands, that’s my responsibility. You are welcome to come to the factory whenever you like if you need something, anything at all. But please, don’t make anything outside of this room, just to keep things neat.”
Mustering her nerve Taritha piped up, “Uh, Sir? Can they make me a new comb?”
The demonologist was almost giddy with excitement at her request. “Oh yes! Ask them to!”
“Uh, I’d like a comb please?” Taritha gently said towards the swarm of imps by the kiln.
Nothing happened.
“Ah, there’s a bit of a knack to it, miss. You’se gotta address ‘em, then make the request. Then stay silent for a bit, and they’ll go. Imps! Craft five wooden combs for a lady, all different styles.” Stanisk said firmly, with the same tone and cadence he ordered his men.
A small handful of imps sprinted across the floor back to their workbenches, and this time the combs were done staggeringly fast. The tool noise ended, and Stanisk collected the combs off the bench as they tidied up then sat cross-legged. He placed them all firmly into her hands with a big grin, his hands warm and callused. “Anythin’ that can be made, any time you’se want. It’s a better way to live.”
Of course, each comb was perfect and beautiful. Each was unique, all had patterns, textures, and carvings on the handle. Each was made out of both pine and walnut, giving a pleasing contrast with pale and dark.
I would have bought a plain one, but these are so much nicer than anything I’ve owned before.
The linseed oil was still a little slick on them, so she held off running them through her hair and gently placed them into her satchel. Already they were her most prized possessions.
Grigory added, “Feel free to get me or Stanisk if you need help, but you’ll catch on fast enough, they are simplicity itself! Anyways let's have a look at the common spaces, I think you’ll find them much nicer than that old warehouse!”
Grigory’s tour was terrifying and overwhelming. He introduced new appliances, concepts and enchantments with every breath. The kitchen had no fire, just pyrostones that could be activated by moving an inhibitor stone, and in both the ‘stones’ were carved into a pleasing functional shape. The water jugs were massive rooftop barrels, linked by copper pipes to a fixed basin he called a sink. There were countless other minor and major strangenesses. Even the plain parts, the high ceilings, the smooth tiled floors and sturdy doors blew her mind. She’d never seen anything as refined, effortlessly expensive. She assumed such things existed in the homes of the nobility, but she’d never seen a building as grand, let alone been inside one. The trappings of wealth and the unique, fully enchanted aspects ran together badly for her.
“--This mattress is a series of magically linked columns of woven wool that dynamically change their diameter, which in turn–” Grigory droned on excitedly gesturing towards a gorgeous bed, as big as her entire hovel.
“Sir, souls don’t exist at all, or just for demons?” Theros interrupted, his face clouded with worry.
“Oh. Uh, I’m sure you have a soul, just not one that I have any way of detecting, affecting or interacting with?” Grigory said. His brow was furrowed with concern. He continued as conciliatory as possible. “And afterlives are likely some extraplanar reality that is also entirely undetectable?”
“Whew, that’s a relief! Thank you milord!” his stress melted away and he returned his full attention to the tour.
“Right. Anyways, there are no hearths, the heating and cooling of each room is controlled by–” and Mage Thippily happily continued his tour. The men looked at each other, taking a half dozen different conclusions from the short exchange. They continued to the extravagant latrines, to the totally empty armoury, and finally ended on the factory’s roof.
As they ascended the final flight of stairs, Mage Thippily ushered his soldiers onto the expansive rooftop. "Here we have the rooftop garden," he announced with a grand sweep of his hand. The area had been meticulously reinforced, the stonework beneath their feet solid and reassuring. "Feel free to run drills here if you like. But," his voice warmed with pride, "this is my favourite part!"
The rooftop was a vibrant tapestry of newly potted plants, their leaves still tender and bright against the sun. They passed rows of greenery that hinted at future seclusion and colour. Familiar patio furniture, just like the ones they had at their last barracks, offered a semblance of continuity and sanity. In the centre, a gazebo stood like a freshly bloomed flower, its newness evident in the crispness of the vibrant canvas and the shine of the wood.
Approaching the north wall, Grigory leaned casually against the defensive ramparts, a solid structure that spoke of strategic design. His men gathered around, following his gaze outward.
Beyond the fortress walls, a wide expanse of forest stretched toward the horizon, its canopy a patchwork of greens and browns. Where the trees broke, the land transformed dramatically into a steep, rocky shore. Below, the Nerian Sea churned, its waves crashing against the cliffs with relentless, rhythmic fury. From this vantage point, the view of the coastline stretched magnificently—a panoramic display of nature’s unbridled power and beauty.
"I’m thinking of adding all-weather tables and chairs up here," The demonologist mused, breaking the silence as his eyes scanned the horizon. "Maybe some cover and heaters too, to turn it into a kind of three-season space." His gaze drifted back to his hirelings, a tacit invitation in his eyes. "Feel free to come up here whenever you like. I only ask that you don’t interrupt me if you see me reading or writing."
Taritha nearly scoffed aloud, the idea of interrupting him was so many layers of taboo that the thought hadn’t even formed. The men seemed more at ease here, and several took seats and talked excitedly. Others walked the long perimeter of the rooftop. The sides closest to the courtyard extended to the top of the perimeter walls, allowing them to walk all the way to the gatehouse. Ros stood near her, looking out at the ocean.
“I didn’t think I’d ever get to set foot in a palace like this!” he said in hushed reverence as she joined her.
“Yeah, the funny part is how humble the mage keeps making it sound. As if it’s a boring workman's hut. I have no idea how the emperor lives, but I bet he doesn’t have half as many things as the mage does!” Taritha grinned ruefully.
“Definitely fewer imps! What do you think of them? I think they are the most special thing ever!” Ros gushed.
“I don’t know. They disgust and revolt me, but I also see how they are useful. I worry my reaction is based on assumptions I’ve not examined? Mage, I guess Demonologist, Thippily has been nothing but kind and open in every interaction, so I think I’m okay? With living with demons.”
Just saying that out loud made her skin crawl.
“That’s good! It’ll be alright, if the Chief and the mage think it’s good, it’s good.” Ros declared resolutely. She envied his clarity.
“Yes, we just became a lot more dependent on his goodwill. On the other hand, he didn’t have to tell us anything. He could have lied or covered up,” she said, staring out at the ocean. She’d never been so high up. The slight slope of the woods meant she could see over most trees. It both scared and exhilarated her. She leaned forward to look down and was rewarded with dizzying vertigo. Holding onto the rough stone battlements with both hands she looked out into the grey blue of the inland sea. She could see some fishing boats, just specks near the horizon, far beyond the small scraggly islands that clustered near the shore.
“Are you gonna move in with us? You didn’t say anything when he made the offer.” Ros made another attempt at casual subtly.
That was the exact question she’d been asking herself. On one hand, it was an incredible offer: to live in what might be the most luxurious residence in the entire Empire. And it would be safer, too—while the guards weren’t exactly her own, here they might as well be. But at what cost? Memories of her mother, executed by the Church for witchcraft, haunted her. Would accepting this offer make the Church right about her bloodline? Would it make her just like the evil she’d always feared? Mage Thippily seemed certain that demons weren’t evil, just a chaotic part of a chaotic universe. He knew more about demons than anyone that’s ever lived!
It’s easier to sleep with a guilty conscience in a nice warm room with tall ceilings and a soft bed.
She made her choice, and her stomach lurched as if she’d jumped from the battlement. She took a slow steadying breath before replying.
“I’d be insane not to. Look at this place! Have you seen where I’m living now? No comparison!” Her light tone hid the storm of uncertainties that were making her lightheaded.
This doesn’t have to be forever. Plus the demons seem quiet.
“Let’s go get your stuff! I’ll help you move right now!”
“Ohhhhh, okay. I can’t think of a single reason not to do that right now,” Taritha said slowly.
They started back to the staircase, passing Stanisk on the way. He was quietly discussing something with the mage.
“Sir, is it alright if we go get Taritha’s stuff and move her in?” Ros’s voice crackled with excitement.
“Aye, that’s fine. Take a few others with you, to load the cart at the warehouse and get our gear too. You and the men take the rooms on the second floor, the miss here is too delicate by half for you’se brutes so set her up on the third, 3-C oughta work?”
“We can have a company dinner when you all return! Come up here when you are ready!” Demonologist Thippily commented from where he was sitting.
Stanisk added, “I probably don’t need to tell you’se but don’t NEVER discuss what happens here when in town. Never.” His tone was low and flat, but he made direct unblinking eye contact with them.
“Of course, sir,” Ros said and bowed awkwardly, and the herbalist nodded as they descended the way they came.
They made their way down through the residence side of the factory, crossing to the exit via the second-floor dormitories. Everything was so new, and a few things weren’t entirely finished –some doors leaned against the hallway, and several rooms weren’t furnished.
“There are twelve of you in security, excluding your boss, right?” she asked as they walked.
“Yeah, the same twelve as we had in Jagged Cove!” Ros confirmed cheerfully.
“So why do you reckon there are twenty rooms on this level, and I assume the same number on the other third floor?” she asked.
“Hmm, maybe in case we have visitors?” he offered.
“Strange. Oh, hey guys,” She greeted Eowin, Kedril and Theros as they waited at the end of the hallway.
“The Chief said you needed a hand with moving stuff?”
Ros quickly and clearly explained their plan, and they hooked up the horse and wagon and headed to town. The trip back to town seemed shorter as everyone quietly contemplated their new futures.
“So his, uh, helpers would have made all the stuff we’ve been using?” Kedril wondered aloud.
“Yeah, I specifically asked about the clothes! They all were. It sounds like everything he’s done, he kind of hasn’t done?” Taritha trailed off, unsure what she even thought.
“No, everything he did was even better! He made something that anyone can use! Any one of us could open a factory just like him now, it’s the magic that made the tool, which is a full step more impressive if you ask me,” Ros said.
“Wait, so all those people healed? Was that all with them?!” Theros said with growing horror.
“Nah, I was there, he‘s a regular mage too. I saw him heal them with normal biomancy.” She said as if she had a single other point of reference for what biomancy ought to look like.
They continued in contemplative quietude. The midweek afternoon was busy, and lots of townsfolk were doing their normal chores, fetching water, hauling bundles, and feeding their chickens. Their pastoral tranquillity undisturbed by the demonic horde just down the twisting narrow road to what was recently a swampy forest.
“You guys go on to the barracks and start packing, I’ll be able to bring most of my stuff by myself. I’ll meet you there.” Taritha said as they approached an intersection.
“I’ll give you a hand, the fellas will be pretty quick anyhow,” Ros said gallantly as he accompanied her home.
“Alright, but you can’t judge me for my hut! It’s hard to make a living here without a wealthy patron!” she said. She hadn’t really wanted anyone to know how she lived. City folk wouldn’t understand what it’s like scraping by to survive a winter.
“I’m already impressed! That you owned a place free and clear makes you one of the richest folk I know! Well definitely richer than anyone that would talk to me in the days before I worked for Mage Thippily!” Ros spoke with a smile neither proud nor ashamed of his past.
“What did you do before you were an elite mage guard? You said you were poor but city poor is like country rich! I bet you were the captain of the guard for some rich merchant or something!”” she guessed as she ducked past the hide flap into her hut. “Wait here.”
Ros found a hefty log of firewood with moss growing on one side of it. With a grunt, he manoeuvred it upright, fashioning a makeshift and somewhat precarious stool. Seating himself atop it, he settled in to wait for her, the forest sounds filling the quiet. “Something like that! I picked fruit in orchards, I swept alleys, I did plenty of stuff! I was way too scrawny to be a guardsman though. Stanisk probably only hired me because he’d had a few beers that night!”
The inside of the hut had some clanks and thumps but she didn’t reply. He folded his arms and looked around. He’d come to appreciate the ancient pine forests around the small town. They were actually in town, but surrounded as they were by trees, he felt like he was in the primordial forest. It was the first forest he’d ever seen and hadn’t spent much time in it. His duties kept him constantly busy, other than the work trip to kill the big staghog. Considering all the trees, mosses, low flowers, and darty animals he saw, it felt a little unfair that it just smelled earthy, with the barest hint of pine. If he were in charge of forests, they’d smell like a thousand living things all at once.
“Need a hand?” he offered after a bit longer. He didn’t want to rush her, but he was also happy to help. He was comfortable and wondering if he’d changed at least a bit. Sitting on a log with his thoughts was something he liked now.
“Thanks, Ros, I got it. Do you reckon I should bring my old mattress, or he’ll give me one like he showed us?”
“I can’t imagine him making you sleep on a sack of old hay, while we sleep in the magic beds he’s making. I’ll tell you what, if he does, you can sleep in my bed,” he offered.
“Hah! Just when I thought there were no wolves in these woods!” she retorted.
“Oh, Light no! I meant I’d sleep elsewhere! Oh, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean it like that!” he blurted. She poked her head out of the low opening, and Ros worried it was mainly to see his deep red blushing.
“Hah! Take this!” she said. His firewood stool fell forward with a bassy woomp as he went to take an ancient iron cook pot, filled to the brim with clay jars and a few dark glass bottles. He carefully held the precious cargo, aware of the clacking and rattling they made with even the slightest movement. A few seconds later she emerged with a few old dresses thrown over her shoulder and holding a stack of woven reed baskets in her hands.
“Just as well you came by, I had more stuff than I remembered. I hope I have space for it!” she said, slightly embarrassed. “Oh anyways, back to your big city days! It must have been hard to leave all that excitement and culture for this dump.”
“Are you kidding? I’m exactly where I want to be!” he said with disarming sincerity. “This is where the people I care about are, and it’s where the world will start getting better. I wouldn’t leave for, not for a whole sack of coins. Besides, I bet Stanisk is cooking dinner tonight, and he’s the best cook I ever met!”
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The next two days passed much the same as the first day on the farm. Mark spent his mornings helping the Guckracks, his afternoons helping the locals, and his evenings tinkering. I spent my time meticulously studying him. His mannerisms, his speech patterns, and his body language. When I wasn’t feasting on the various stews and other dishes the family kept bringing out to me, that is. They were marvelous cooks, credit where it was due.
Finally, the morning arrived for our voyage to Gorling. Both Bun and Fizz, the two male elders of the family were going to the city with us for their transaction. They had a simple cart, pulled by two pormor. Two Faelor bred sten’s would be able to get us their in half the time as pormor, but it was still better than walking. A good ten minutes were wasted as everyone said goodbye to each other before we were finally able to set forth. I was informed by Fizz that it was not actually a full day’s travel to Gorling. We set out early enough that we should get there around mid afternoon
Mark wasted no time starting a conversation with the two drivers about their many children. Hours passed as the three discussed the current relationship statuses or lack thereof of older children that had moved out, what professions they’d taken up, where they’d moved to, how many grandchildren they knew about, desires for their extended family to visit more, and so on. The Crenulans certainly loved to talk, and Mark was all too happy to entertain them. I mostly tuned it out except for one detail that seemed relevant to our immediate situation.
Apparently, their second oldest, Stroz, was a merchant in Gorling which they were planning on seeing while in the city. Less relevant was the fact that he did not yet have a family unit, which seemed to be the primary focus of their long discussion about him. This seemed to distress the two greatly. Mark seemed to be on the son’s side, however, assuring the elders that he simply hadn’t met “the right ones” yet and he was sure to find a family eventually. The whole ordeal was dreadfully boring and I honestly think I’d have preferred we made the entire ride in silence.
Eventually, once all the children had been exhausted, the conversation turned to the various neighbors across the countryside. Mark joked about how the Stunkars must be trying to harvest rocks because they break their plow every week. They talked about all the little inventions Mark has been passing around and how everyone has been telling the Guckracks they are just so amazing and things are so much smoother and more productive when they start using them. This led into a peculiar exchange.
“Have you heard anything new about the Marlock Homestead?” Mark asked with a worried look on his face.
“The same.” Was all Bun replied.
Mark didn’t reply. The cart was silent for several minutes before Fizz picked up the conversation again with some gossip about another family. The conversation returned to the lively affair it’d been at before.
The sun had crested fully over us and was now making its way down the horizon. I could sense a change in the wind. The smell of brine. We were very near to the coast now. I could hear the sound of more and more carts ahead of us. There it was. Gorling. Its great walls stretched around the city for miles, a remnant of its time as an independent city-state at war with the crown. Towering buildings stretched up into the sky behind the walls. A marvel of Faelor architecture. A small taste of home. Unlike home, many of the buildings had a green hue to them as copper was used extensively throughout this city.
We joined the traffick and entered the city without any fanfare. We rode our cart to an inn near the outer quarters of the city, where Bun informed us this is where they would be staying for the night and to meet them back here by tomorrow to ride home. It seemed to be a rather meager inn, considering we were in Gorling, and I noticed there were only Crenulans patronizing the establishment.
“I know you were wanting the maps to be the first priority, but I think it would be best if we made our way to a clothier first. It will take them time to make an outfit to your… specifications, whereas maps can be purchased as is. So we should put our order in for our dress clothes as early as possible.” I suggested.
Mark’s eyes seemed to make a loop around the top of his face, but he agreed to my proposal. I was unfamiliar with the specifics of this city and Mark was at a loss for where to purchase Faelor clothing, but he knew there was a massive market near the center of the city following the main thoroughfare, so that’s where we went first. With so many people walking down the roads, I did find it odd that no one noticed a foreign species walking in their midst, but Mark was right. No one seemed to pay him much mind. It helped that the Crenulan garbs he wore were quite bulky and hid his figure. He also had them pulled up to mostly cover his face. He could almost pass for a Faelor with an atrocious sense of fashion, if you didn’t notice the lack of a second set of arms.
After asking around, I kept being directed to Madame Glowing Sun’s Finery Emporium as the most fashionable and most expensive location to purchase clothing from, so that’s precisely where I went. The shop itself was located at the bottom floor of a tall building. The rest of the building was most likely residential. Walking in, there were an assortment of sashes and gowns on display, as well as coats and pants for all sexes. I didn’t bother with the floor displays however, I walked directly to the attendant sitting in the back.
As I got closer, behind the counter I could see a young Faelor female, perhaps even too young to be working at an establishment like this. She had her feet propped up and she was chewing on something while reading from a paper.
As I approached she lazily said, “Welcome to Madame Glowing Sun’s Finery Emporium. Feel free to browse our finery.” She didn’t even look up from what she was reading.
“Excuse me young lady, but I need a custom order. Two custom order’s in fact.” I said.
“We have many sashes and gowns to choose from on display.” She said, looking up from her paper with just her top two eyes, still chewing like some Crenulan sow.
“I intend to have a meeting with the Crown and I’m afraid your standard garb will simply not do. Plus, I doubt anything you have on display would accommodate my guest.” I insisted.
“You have a meeting with the crown, huh? Yeah… whoa… what is that thing?!” The young girl said, finally noticing Mark. For the first time, her full focus was off of whatever she was reading and was now on us.
“Young lady, I am Lady Morning Breeze. A Traveler. And this is an as yet unidentified species I have discovered in my travels. His name is Mark.”
“A… A traveler… just a moment.” The young girl said, darting behind the curtain into the back room.
“She seemed a little spooked.” Mark said as we waited for whatever was going to happen.
“She was impudent is what she was.” I corrected him.
“So, what do we have here? A traveler is it?” An older Faelor female walked out from behind the curtain. She was dressed in a sparkling gown and had an overly large green sash. She spoke with an air of authority and dismissal.
“I am Morning Breeze. A Faelor Travelor and a Lady of the Dawning Sun Over The Great Sea community.” I gave my full introduction.
“Hmph, right. Well, we’ll see.” The elder Faelor said, as she pulled a small booklet from under the counter. She flipped through a few pages before finding the one she was looking for. She stared at the page a moment then took a hard look at me. She looked at the page once more, then back to me. The page. Then back to me. “By the Great Fae! It is you! My sincerest apologies your lady! You would be surprised how often we get younglings in here trying to scam us out of a dress claiming to be travelers. I am Glowing Sun. A Lady of the Rolling Hills and Deep Valleys community. A pleasure to meet you.”
“A pleasure as well. I’m not familiar with the Rolling Hills and Deep Valleys community.” I said.
“Ah, well. We are local to Gorling. We go all the way back to the city’s founding. But we are loyal to the Crown! Very loyal! And I would be happy to service anything you need from my illustrious establishment.” Glowing Sun replied.
I proceeded to explain our situation, that we are planning on having an audience with the Crown and we needed attire to match such a royal occasion. As well as the unique challenge of clothing my companion. She seemed more than happy to accommodate us, especially - she added - if we mentioned where the clothes came from if anyone asked.
“Just a moment. I need to collect my measuring equipment for your… friend here.” She said as she left us alone again, retreating behind the curtain.
“This is a little awkward. I can only understand half of what you all are saying.” Mark said. “You’re definitely going to have to help me out on my Faelo if I’m going to be acting as a diplomat.” He added.
“Noted.”
“And if we do get everything approved, I’m going to have to try to teach you my language too, so you can use the A.P.S. on your own. A little cultural exchange, how does that sound?” He asked.
“I’d like that very much.”
We were standing there alone for much longer than I’d expect for someone to just grab some measuring equipment when Glowing Sun finally came back. She had Mark take off the bulky Crenulan clothes so she could get more accurate measurements. Luckily, he was wearing his underclothes again.
“Such a fascinating specimen! I’ve never seen anything like him before. Where did you say you found him?” Glowing Sun asked as she was measuring his leg circumference.
“I think that information would best be saved until I could write a full scholarly report and address it to the Crown.” I answered.
“Oh very well. It will certainly be an interesting challenge to make a proper dress coat and pants with his dimensions. At least I’ll save material on sleeves!” She said, pointing to his ribs. “Of course, all that savings will be lost by just how thick I’ll need to make the remaining holes. Well, I have everything I need from him, let me get your dimensions now and I’ll be all set.” She said as she transitioned to measuring me. “This is going straight to the top of my priority list. I should have both done by tomorrow afternoon. So where are you staying anyway?” She asked.
“Oh, well. I’m not sure. Our ride was staying at some Crenulan inn on the outskirts of the city.” I said.
“That simply won’t do! My lady, I tell you this, my sister of the Rolling Hills and Deep Valleys community, Midnight Sky, owns the Rolling Deep Hotel! Its a luxury hotel for dignitaries and visiting nobles. It’s the only place for you, I tell you this. I will send word that you are coming. She will have a place for you tonight, that I can promise you. And I’ll let her know you have a… guest with you as well.” She said, gesturing toward Mark.
“Very well. I appreciate your hospitality. May the Great Fae bless you on this day.” I say.
“Oh, I think she already has.” Glowing Sun said, finishing up her measurements. “I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon my lady.”
We exited the shop as I explained to Mark that the clothes wouldn’t be ready until tomorrow afternoon and that we’d been offered a place to stay for the night at the Rolling Deep Hotel.
“Oh. I actually know that place. Never been there myself, but you can’t miss it. It’s a big landmark nearer to the water. Seemed like a place for fancy Faelor to me. Must have a good view of the ocean from the upper floors though.” Mark said. “Now, while there is still daylight and the shops are still open, can we please go look for some maps? We’ll head in that direction anyway, because I imagine all the best cartographers will be near the ports anyhow.” Mark added.
We visited no less than three different shops before Mark found something he was satisfied with. The first place only had maps of sealanes. The second place Mark claimed the maps weren’t detailed enough, much to the chagrin of the shopkeep. The third place, Mark finally found what he was looking for. We entered just as the place was about to close. The Crenulan running the store assured us that, actually - it was fine. He was happy to stay and let us browse. He also explained that he wasn’t the creator of the maps, he just ran the storefront for the Faelor who made them, but that he was an incredibly talented man who couldn’t busy himself with such mundane things as running a store when he had important maps to be making.
“Look at the detail on this thing. It’s got the whole continent here. And look, here’s Gorling, and there - you can even see where the Guckrack ranch is.” Mark had pulled out a magnification lens and was focusing on the details of the Northwest portion of the map. “Let me just check the scale real quick… yeah, look at that,” he said as he was pressing on his wrist device, “it’s nearly perfect. Whoever made this map must be some kind of obsessive personality. If the rest of the map is as accurate as this tiny portion… I think we hit the jackpot here. How much?” He asked the Crenulan shopkeep.
“Oh… that one? Um… Well… you see… Um…” The shopkeep began stuttering.
“Yeah, this one, how much do you want for it?” Mark reiterated.
“Well… I was explicitly told by master Long Journey not to sell that one… because… well… it’s not completed yet.” He said, pointing to the small Southeastern peninsula in the corner of the map. “In fact, that’s where master Long Journey is right now… he’s out on an expedition to finish mapping all of Fael, and he just has that bit left to complete upon his return.”
Mark looked at me and shook his head. “It’s always something. Can we come back tomorrow and… admire the map some more?” He asked.
“Well, I don’t see the harm in that.” The Crenulan offered.
Mark led me out of the shop and explained, “I don’t actually need to buy the map. I can scan it in the shop, but it’s going to take me most of the day. Would be easier if I could do it from the privacy of my own workshop back home, but we’ll make it work. Now lets go to this fancy hotel of yours. I could go for a little luxury right about now.”
We weren’t far from the Rolling Deep Hotel, and Mark was right - the building was an obvious landmark. It was by no means the tallest building in the city, but it was the tallest building in this section of the city. It had a grand entrance with room for dozens of carts, chariots, or any number of transports. It was clearly located in such a way that you could get here by taking the main thoroughfare through the entrance of the city or from the docks if you came by sea. The building was covered in fresh copper - not weathered green like much of the city.
As we entered the lobby we were greeted by a fresh faced Faelor male who seemed to be expecting us. “Lady Morning Breeze! And… guest? Um… right this way.” He said, momentarily stuttering as he noticed Mark, but quickly regaining his composure. The young man led us to a large stairwell with an older Faelor woman standing at the bottom of the flight. “Lady Morning Breeze of the Dawning Sun Over The Great Sea community, may I introduce you to Lady Midnight Sky of the Rolling Hills and Deep Valleys community.” he said before quickly retreating.
Lady Midnight Sky was wearing a deep blue gown that went all the way to the floor. It sparkled in a similar manner as Glowing Sun’s did. She was also wearing some kind of bejeweled headpiece between her antenna. In a fashion choice that seemed to clash with the rest of her ensemble, she was wearing a large, ruffled, green sash.
“Lady Morning Breeze! I am honored to have such a distinguished guest staying at our renowned establishment. And let me assure you, you are welcome here, not just tonight, but for as long as your travels will you.” She said with an ever so slight bow.
“I am honored to accept your hospitality and offer blessings and tales of my travels in exchange.” I answered.
“That won’t be necessary. At least not tonight. It’s getting late, I’ve reserved a special room for you,” she said, holding out a key, which I accepted. “Room 703. Top floor. Fantastic view of the ocean. You’ll love it. Please, let me see you to your room.” She said, as she began escorting us through the hotel. To say the place was lavish would be an understatement. Even by Crownland standards, this hotel was clearly making a statement.
Something seemed wrong about my interaction with Midnight Sky. My politician nerve was twitching. I was used things being provided to me for free, but this seemed above and beyond the call of duty to a traveler and she wasn’t even interested in my blessings. I couldn’t quite place it however. Mark and I followed the hotelier in silence until we reached room 703. Midnight Sky opened the door with her own set of keys and motioned for us to enter. There were no lights inside, the room dimly illuminated by the glow of the moon through the large coastal facing window. The center of the room was nearly pitch black, however. As the two of us entered, the door was closed behind us.
Suddenly, a spark was lit from the dark spot in the center of the massive room and a lamp was ignited revealing a diminutive Fealor male wearing an excessively large green sash flanked by two armored Faelor guards. “Morning Breeze. I’ve been expecting you.”
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I have read this subreddit for a couple of hours and was left unsatisfied on the subject of Macrodata Refinement, since the most common answer seems to be that there is a perception filter hiding what they are actually doing on their computer, but I find that hard to believe, especially because of time constraints.
Data Refinement is the kind of procedure that can be effectively accomplished at any point in a given time window. It expires, but they know exactly when it will expire and there is no added problem for taking long, as long as you do it under scheduled time.
So Dylan's theory and similars are incorrect. If they were killing dangerous eels, people trying to steal water supply or whatever else, they wouldn't be given a due date, it would be a much more dynamic process.
So they really must be just sorting numbers into bins, they are refining an already accomplished process. But what is that process that results in macrodata requiring refinement?
I have two theories:
The Deeper Innie Theory: There are LOTS of time skips on Severance, big chunks of time that we just assume some stuff happens. My theory basically consists that, during work hours, there is a third (maybe more) innie, doing the actual, inescrupulous work that results in data that is encrypted in the pool of numbers and must be retranslated appropriately through refinement.
I know this theory of multiple severances has been posted before, but I'd like to adress a few counter arguments and delve a bit deeper. First, the innies know how much time they've worked at Lumon (Mark says 2 years, for example), so if there was a second innie, they'd know. But not necessarily. Mark knows that he has worked for 2 years, probably measuring it in work days. If the second innie is on for just a few hours, they could easily not notice it and think they just spaced out for a couple of hours.
The line that "there is only 1 innie for now" can very well mean for the first season, and that more will be revealed later, as others have pointed out.
I think the best evidence for the second outie is Irving's panting, as I believe they are activated on the Test Floor, where Ms. Casey ends up. Otherwise, why would Irving have a recollection of that place? One that even bleeds through severance. He has been down there... But doing what?
In my opinion, what Lumon is all about, which I don't have a precise explanation to what is, but can guess their methods and reasons for a third innie.
They are basically trying to control the subconscious of their workers, making sure they repress what's harmful for their purposes while also using that exact same bleeding effect of the subconscious for Macrodata Refinement. They place a cluster of numbers somewhere very visible for the innie, who engages in some activity. Each activity is useful for Lumon and brings forth an intense emotion, tied to each of the tempers. They do them many, many times to get the numbers subconsciously attached to the temper they experience during each activity, so when they see the numbers on their screen, their subconscious flares up that emotion and allows them to categorize each cluster.
There was a real case of short term memory loss where the doctor handed the patient a maze to solve every single day. Each time he solved it, he did it faster, until he basically knew the answer right away. He had no idea how, but the reason was simple, his subconscious still retained the patterns and could reproduce them. Lumon is taking the deeper innie in and out of the maze, the innie refines what they do in the maze and the outie might be left with the memory of the transition, the dark corridor into said maze.
This might also explain Petey's refusal to follow Regabhi's instructions. Maybe he was starting to remember the most traumatic parts of his memories, that were fewer and so took longer to arise, and actually didn't want to live with them. We just didn't get to see them.
I also believe there is a lot of red tied to the deeper innies. I know people disregard the opening's clues to the story, but it was very clear that, even though it's creator wasn't clued in very much, he was being instructed by Ben Stiller and others. With that said, I think the red wearing innie, from the opening, is the deeper innie. Just like Ms. Casey, he wears red, and she is the first character we see actually go down the elevaror. And just like his outie changes clothes upon arrival, so does the innie when they become the deeper innie. Probably so whatever happens down there doesn't stain the innie's clothes. Which could also be why they wash their hands so much, to clean any remaining evidence from their bodies, so not even the innies would pick up on it.
And speaking of Ms. Casey, she actually counts the hours she has been in the severance floor. Why is that? Maybe she is afraid she might show up somewhere else and lose continuity of her actions? Maybe it's like overtime, where they can activate the deeper innie, place them back exactly where the innie previously was, then deactivate them. It would be as if a single frame skipped from their point of view.
Speaking of the intro again, we technically see 3 Marks. One with just a shirt and tie, the other with the red outfit and then one with a full suit.
The Coil Theory: The Coil of Doom. It's there, nobody notices it in the show, done. But not so fast! Like other redditors have pointed out, maybe it's an electric coil or something similar, which actually activates the severance chips.
I too believe that, but again, would like to theorize a bit further. The chip itself has a coil, that it's called it's "bowels" by Peg, from The Lexington Letter. Maybe they bigger coil resonates a frequency, which the smaller coil picks up on and that activates the severance. Or maybe, it influences the brain just enough, to maybe inflict a few emotions, tied to tempers, upon innies seeing certain clusters of numbers?
I have a strange feeling that MR is not profitable, more so an experiment. If you think about it, O&D is practically there to serve them. They make the paintings, that they can enjoy on their own of course, but that MR also looks at. They make the manuals, everything. Their main job is to subtly influence the minds of the other departments, but the ones that can appreciate most of their work is MR, because we don't see any paintings inside the baby goat department, or any member of another department roaming around. So MR really is important and worth the expenses.
Yet, their labor is pretty chill, so to speak. Almost as if them not meeting quota would be an unfortunate, but not quite catastrophic event, almost like an experiment that can, but preferably won't take it's time.
So my theory is that they are calibrating the Coil of Doom. It's sending it's frequencies that are picked up by the innie and, if they feel the right way, then it's proof it worked. That gathers Lumon data on how exactly to influence the human brain, so one day they can fully control a chipped one, which they hope will eventually be every brain.
They are basically trialing. The Coil is randomly trying and trying until it finally does something which influences the innie, which is why it takes a few weeks to work.
Maybe the Coil has more powers, like exploding a truck, maybe? Or influencing a passengedriver enough to make them explode a truck.
It could also be what causes the Break Room effect, slowly creeping into the innie's mind and making them hallucinate. The audio and data of the polygraph-like test Milchik puts them through could be calibrating the coil to that very purpose, so that when it finally finds the right vibration, it makes the innie surrender and truly feel sorry.
And those are my theories. Not exactly original, which I expected since I got into the show after I heard about it's second season coming up and binge watched it yesterday. But I'm fascinated by it and hope some nice discussions arise from here.
And hopefully not any "we knew about all of this already, you dum dum!" lol.

Staring into the living room mirror of the house of family friends, as my mother and father greeted the couple that lived there, I poked at it. “You think there are cameras behind it?”
“What’s that, now?” asked Will, walking over to me.
“Sorry about my little brother,” my older sister Amelia sighed. “We watched The Truman Show the other day, and it kinda went to his head.”
“Oh, I love that movie!” Sally exclaimed. “I always wonder what he found on the outside of that wall. How he adjusted to real life.”
And that was how it began, as I recall it. My curiosity with the strange and the hypotheses formed by those with more imagination than sense. My fascination with the Fermi paradox and all things extraterrestrial. Then the interest in things so small, we had only recently had the capabilities to take photos of them, before hypothesizing that there were things even smaller than that.
Eventually, I left behind the irrational theories, those supported by nothing other than the hopes and dreams of creative beliefs. My life brought me into the science of the unknown, diving headfirst into what little we knew of obscure concepts. Dark matter and dark energy, known only by their absence. The planets of our solar system, and then those further off, those we could never hope to reach with anything other than telescopes that peered back in time as they absorbed light that had bounced off them so long ago.
After that came the idea that consumed me. The simulation hypothesis. The idea that all this, our world, our galaxy, our universe, was a computer simulation. It was engrossing to me on a level that surpassed everything else that had held my interest in the past. It was, in essence, The Truman Show, some outsider creating an entire universe and watching it from the outside. I imagined an alien scholar watching curiously as the little monkeys on a green and blue dot learned about their world and hypothesized on the truth of it.
Decades had passed now since I’d first watched that movie, and I currently sat at my office desk chair, old and worn but still comfortable, my hands clasped loosely in my lap, staring at my computer screen. It was off now, leaving only a dark reflection of my face and surroundings. My desk was as messy as always, pens and papers askew but organized in a way that I was always familiar with, and my chest rose and fell slowly and evenly as I breathed in and out.
My mind had felt like it was shutting down ten minutes ago. My thoughts were no longer racing. They’d just run a marathon and now suddenly finding themselves at the finish line. Now my thoughts trudged forward unsteadily, shakily accepting a glass of water as they continued to take step after step, worried that if they came to a stop, they would collapse to the ground and never get up again.
I’d found the proof. And amidst the chemicals in my brain that rendered me ecstatic on the evidence before me, I immediately sent it off to three colleagues to check my work. Then I had sat back in my chair and, as the seconds had ticked by, something heavy and concerning and confusing had laid itself over my shoulders.
What now?
My brain went back to that moment at the end of The Truman Show, the man fighting off the storm with every bit of energy he had, almost dead by the end. But he makes it to the edge of his world. He walks up the steps, opens the door, and everything before him is filled with promise. The promise of a real life, uncontrolled, unhindered, and free.
But we were pixels. We didn’t have that door. We had a world we were trapped in, like mice in a cage. From where I sat, it was a glorious creation of an intelligence far above any humans had ever known, and I sat in awe of it. But the others? The rest of humanity? What would they think? What would they do? How would they rebel and lash out and scream when they discovered the cage? While the universe had felt infinite yesterday, it now felt like the size of a shoebox.
That’s how most would react, I knew. It didn’t matter that we still had our glorious, limitless universe around us. Even those who believed in an all-knowing, all-controlling god believed in free will. They clung to it desperately, needing to feel that their choices mattered. Of course, they still did. Nothing had changed. We still felt and smelled and tasted and heard and loved and hated and sunk deep into emotions that made us who we were.
But as I sat at my desk, staring at that dark reflection of my face, I did what I always did: I imagined. I thought of the skepticism, the conspiracy theories, the grief of the truth, of how humanity would react. It would be an unprecedented shift in our world. It would be chaos.
So, knowing what was coming, knowing that for some time after news of my discovery had spread, tranquility would be a luxury, I sat in my comfy office chair, hands clasped loosely in my lap, and listened to the quiet. The hums of the air conditioner, the footsteps that occasionally passed outside my office, the birdsong in the tree outside my window.
I listened to my world. I ignored the promise of a chaotic future and enjoyed the peace.
***
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We all learned the genetics of eye color in a simplified punnett square model.
I have dark brown eyes, my husband has light brown eyes and our children didn’t get either of our dominant color eyes.
One has hazel (a honey color with blue ring on the outside) and my younger still somewhat undefined (only 2 months) but his baby blues are lightening to a blue instead of developing towards anything else… what gives?
This is one of the more surprising things because I was sure I’d have brown eyed kids since mine are so dark and seemingly dominant. Obviously it is more complicated than what is taught in a school.
Both of us have a recessive blue gene.
Husbands: light brown His Dad: blue green , changeable His Mom: light brown
Mine: dark brown My Dad: dark brown My Mom: medium crystal blue
So, if I understand it right neither of my kids got my brown eyed gene, both got my recessive blue from my mother.
My thinking is my daughter likely got a mix of my recessive blue and my husband’s light brown to create a unique hazel shade
My 2 month old son likely got both of our recessive blues?
Also, bonus: Does that mean my brown eye gene won’t be carried through? It’s my very loved grandmothers eyes, and my dads I share… but I realized that if they don’t have it then future grandchildren won’t either.

Out there - Patreon (for all those curious or wanting to support :))
At the Beginning
Adventure Arc - Arc 2
Wilderness Arc - Arc 3
Academy Arc - Arc 4
Nobility Arc - Arc 5
Previously on Leveling up the World...
DRYAD RULER
(+2 Empathy)
You have fulfilled the promise made to the dryads generations ago. The question is, will you bring them to salvation or get them all killed?
​
The crown felt uncomfortable on Dallion’s head, though not nearly as uncomfortable as the realization that he had made the final step. The conquest was put in motion and now he couldn’t turn back even if he wanted to.
A long time ago, he would have defined this whole thing as the final multiplayer battle, though that was back when he viewed things through the lens of video games. There was nothing fun about this. Any cheats and strategies were allowed and second place equaled death, or “the last loser to die.”
The dryad boost was going to increase his population, but in terms of warpower, there was a lot to be desired. Despite their native magic, less than ten percent were awakened. Even among them, the most skilled would need assistance passing the fourth awakening gate.
Because of that, the initial plan had to go through some changes. Too weak to settle the fallen south, or settle in the unoccupied barren lands of the west, the dryads would have to directly face the Order’s war clerics in the eastern forests. From a purely strength perspective, the clerics had the upper hand, but hopefully the dryads’ numbers and environment were going to balance things out.
“Worried?” Euryale asked as she entered the dryads’ throne room. The sun gold armor had changed appearance, turning more regal than defensive.
“A bit,” he admitted.
“I thought you’d spend some time watching the procession. It’s not every day that you get an entire world to follow you.”
Dallion couldn’t even force a smile.
“I can sense them just fine from here.” The emotions were so intense that when combined with his magic vision, they allowed him to get a near-perfect image through the walls that surrounded him. “I’ll try to unbanish the dryad guardians back home.”
The items he had gotten from Canopa, among a few other places, were a lot more experienced. Although minuscule when compared to the millions in this world alone, they’d act as commanders and crack troops. In that aspect, it was fortunate that they stuck together. Back when Dallion had attempted to acquire the mage enclave, he had plans to use them as his special forces, just as the archbishop was doing with the copyettes. Now, they’d be given far more significant roles, which required Moon vows.
“Hey.” The gorgon placed her hand on Dallion’s shoulder. “I’ll be with you till the end. There’s no need to worry.”
Sadly, that brought as much concern as it did relief. Eury was someone who could handle herself well in battle. Even after Dallion’s massive level increase, he’d be hard pressed to win against her without the use of magic and companions. Reading her emotions, he knew that she would die for him and if he messed things up, that was how things were going to end up.
“I know.” He stood up. No weakness. He told himself, using music skills to shred the threads of doubt within him. “Time to see the archduke.”
Concentrating, Dallion linked the world to his personal domain, then to a spot in the real world.
​
DUZHD VI has been added to your domain.
The CITY is Level 11
​
ROSSA has been added to your domain.
The CITY is Level 12
​
ZDRAVETS has been added to your domain.
The CITY is Level 10
​
LOZE has been added to your domain.
The CITY is Level 10
​
VECHER has been added to your domain.
The CITY is Level 11
​
VJATUR has been added to your domain.
The CITY is Level 10
​
Rectangles emerged as one after the other Dallion moved the major cities into the real world. The moment they did, they too started moving, depriving anyone of the opportunity to strike them with magic rockets.
Small towns and villages remained in the aura sword, in case anyone wished to return at a later time. Until then, the world guardian would remain the only entity there.
And now, time for the push. Dallion moved the new set to the very border with the Order’s domain.
​
You have broken through your one hundred and twenty-eighth barrier.
You are level 128.
Choose the trait you value the most.
​
A green rectangle emerged. Increasing his reaction to ninety-five, Dallion kept pushing the cities further into enemy territory.
Facing anyone else, the action wouldn’t have achieved anything. However, the archbishop’s strength was also his weakness. Unlike everyone else, he didn’t have real settlements, only a massive war force that he had placed within monasteries and citadels throughout the world. For infiltration and intimidation, that approach was unparalleled. When it came to domain control, though, such meager settlements were bound to lose when compared to vastly larger cities. Having millions of dryads emerge in a scarcely populated area had quickly shifted the balance of power, taking out chunks of Order territory and adding it to his own. From this point on, the only way for the Order to reclaim it was to go on the offensive and attack the cities, which would be considerably more difficult. And just to make sure, Dallion went on to gin things up by playing one more trump card.
Using the link, Dallion moved to his personal realm. Night had fallen, but the glow of the remaining dragon heart still added an orange hue to the blackness.
“Nice play,” Gen said.
All three of Dallion’s echoes were waiting, standing a few feet from where he had appeared. While all shared his face, time and personal preference had made them very different. As Jeremy had said, each echo came with its own personality, which inevitably led to changes.
“Are you sure about this?” Gen, the veteran, asked. He was the first echo that Dallion had created. Constantly there to provide advice, he had maintained the realm since the early days, restructuring and repairing everything from individual plants to mountains and islands. “I’m not sure you’ll be able to keep this place clean without me.”
“Always a smartass.” Dallion shook his head. He knew that the echo could see exactly what he was thinking, and knew perfectly well that the step wasn’t going to be easy. Yet, it was necessary and not only because of the promise or the current war. If Dallion needed to grow, he had to let part of his past go.
Reaching in the air, Dallion summoned the dragon heart. As the orange crystal appeared in his hand, the hue in the sky vanished. In its place, an endless number of green stars emerged, along with all seven Moons.
Combining attack and carving, Dallion slashed the Moonstone with his finger. A small fragment chipped off. No larger than an adult’s thumb, it contained the power to grant divinity for a matter of minutes; or in this case, something a lot greater.
Dallion caught the fragment midair, then went to Gen and pushed the fragment into the echo’s chest.
​
ECHO TRANSFORMATION
GEN has been granted the spark of life!
Link with DALLION SEENE severed.
GEN had grown into his own entity.
All current skills retained.
GEN is Level 14.
​
A green rectangle appeared, as the former echo was covered in orange light.
“Thanks for everything you did,” Dallion said. “I’ll try to keep this place livable.”
Gen laughed, then disappeared in a cloud of fading particles.
​
DIVINE CREATION - GEN
(+1 Reaction)
You used a fragment of Dararr’s Garnet to bring an echo to life. Gen has been transported to Sandstorm.
​
A stab of sadness swept through Dallion as the echo was moved out of his personal realm. It felt like a thorn in his heart, but not for a single moment did he allow it to take control.
Taking a step to the side, Dallion stood in front of July. This echo had kept the most boyish appearance of the group. He had been “born” the same day Gleam had become Dallion’s familiar and retained a good relation with all creatures and guardians within the realm ever since. Even now, both Gleam and Ruby rested on his left shoulder.
“You’ll need to give him some space, you two,” Dallion said as he sliced off another shard of Moonstone.
Reluctantly, Gleam fluttered off, followed shortly after by Ruby.
“Don’t worry, you’ll still get a chance to see each other. I’ll make sure of that.” Dallion pressed the gem into the echo’s chest.
​
ECHO TRANSFORMATION
JULY has been granted the spark of life!
Link with DALLION SEENE severed.
JULY had grown into his own entity.
All current skills retained.
JULY is Level 21.
​
July looked down as the orange glow surrounded him, trying to hide his tears. He was by far the most emotional of the bunch.
“Take care out there,” Dallion said. In the very last moment, his former echo looked up, just before disappearing like the first.
​
DIVINE CREATION - JULY
(+1 Reaction)
You used a fragment of Dararr’s Garnet to bring an echo to life. July has been transported to Sandstorm.
​
Two echoes were gone. Only one remained—Ariel. He had been by far the most powerful echo in the realm, taking on the role of realm protector and overall loner. Unlike the rest, he had kept his hair white, in a sign of uniqueness, very much as his character suggested. During Dallion’s development, he was the one most pushing him forward, often arguing or talking back.
“Nothing to say?” Dallion asked, slicing off the final piece. “That’s very unlike you.”
“I’ve plenty to say. I just don’t want to see you crying.”
Touche. Dallion thought.
“Didn’t think you’d actually do it,” Ariel added, despite himself.
“You never thought highly of me.”
“No. I always did, even when you didn’t.” He looked at the orange piece of crystal. “I just never dreamed you’d be given a chance to do this.”
With a forced laugh, Dallion pushed the Moonstone fragment into the echo’s chest.
​
ECHO TRANSFORMATION
ARIEL has been granted the spark of life!
Link with DALLION SEENE severed.
ARIEL had grown into his own entity.
All current skills retained.
ARIEL is Level 42.
​
“You better help the others level up,” Dallion said as orange covered Ariel. “That’s your problem now.”
“Seeing the way you did it, I doubt I can do worse,” the other replied. “And don’t even think of cheaping out on gear! I know exactly what you can do.”
The glowing light quickly dissolved into particles, leaving Dallion alone.
​
DIVINE CREATION - ARIEL
(+1 Reaction)
You used a fragment of Dararr’s Garnet to bring an echo to life. Ariel has been transported to Sandstorm.
​
“Well, that’s that,” Dallion said, although he knew that the echoes could no longer hear him. They were no longer part of his realm nor were they echoes. From this moment on, there would be no thought sharing, no reminding him what he was supposed to do, and no jokes on his behalf.
The pain in his heart had increased threefold. Dallion had yet to have children, let alone have them “leave the nest” but he imagined the feeling would be the same. The trio had literally been part of him, born in awakening trials, through internal revelations. From things that had kept him back, they had become part of his realm that propelled him forward… and now they were their own entities out there in the real world.
“A hundred and twenty-eight levels and you remain a softy,” Gleam said, fluttering around Dallion. “I guess that’s what makes you you.”
“Look who’s talking.” Dallion kept the smile on his face. He could easily use his music skills to get rid of the pain, but this time, he chose not to. It was good to experience some pain from time to time. With what was coming, it was certain there’d be a lot more of it.
One by one, the Moons in the sky faded away, leaving only the Orange Moon. The hint was not at all subtle, but still, it was a good one.
Alright, Dallion thought, summoning his carving tools. There’s no point in keeping it any longer.
A new gemstone was diligently given shape and added to his Moon emblem.
​
MOON EMBLEM
5/7 Complete
​
A yellow rectangle emerged. No sooner had it done so than Dallion returned to the dryad throne room within his aura sword.
“Get Dark,” he said to Eury, making his way to the nearest window. “We’re heading to Lanitol.”
Hello, all!
I'll be taking a brief vacation from posting for Orthodox Easter :) Hopefully that will give you a lot of time to speculate about how the endgame will develop :P
Be well and see you Tuesday :)

Senator Jorel stood before the arched window that looked out over the skyline of Vrax Prime's glittering capitol city. It seemed impossible that just outside this haven of intellect and progress lurked a threat unlike any they had ever encountered. But the reports confirmed it.
A chiming noise signaled the arrival of the others. Jorel turned as two dozen of his political peers filed into the chamber, their scaled exoskeletons shimmering various shades of blue and green under the light. They took their seats in the circular gallery with practiced formality.
Everett, speaker of the Senate, addressed Jorel. "What have you summoned us for, colleague? Your transmission spoke of an urgent matter."
Jorel strode to the center stone platform. "Honored colleagues, as you all know our spacefarers have pushed the boundaries of the Empire to its furthest reaches. But in doing so we may have stirred something from the void that we do not fully comprehend."
He activated a pane that displayed a series of shadowy figures engaged in combat. "Our expeditionary forces along the galactic rim have encountered unfamiliar life: bipeds roughly Vraxian in stature but with alien features and capabilities. They call themselves...humans.
Murmurs arose. No one had heard of these so-called humans. Jorel continued. "Our scouts report humans raiding border worlds with an intensity unlike anything known. Rather than flee danger, they advance into it with abnormal ferocity. We've obtained footage."
The pane flickered to a scene of darkness broken by flashing lights. Vraxi soldiers fired weapons from cover, but lean, hairless bipeds charged relentlessly through the beams, absorbing injury after injury yet fighting on. They swarmed enemy positions with metallic tools, smashing and stabbing in a frenzy.
"As you see, humans do not retreat or cease fighting even when fatally wounded. This has allowed small forces to overwhelm our numerically superior garrisons through their unwillingness to acknowledge pain or self-preservation. Their methods defy all we know of warfare."
The assembly murmured louder, disturbed by the vision. Everett spoke gravely. "What would drive a species to fight so brutally, Senator? For what aims do they raid our space?"
Jorel shook his head. "That I cannot say. But if left to operate freely along our borders, these...humans could undermine all we've built. I propose a fact-finding vessel be dispatched. We must understand this unknown to contain it, before it seeds chaos across the stars."
Everett pondered the proposal before nodding slowly. "Agreed. You will lead this mission, Jorel, and bring us answers. The Senate is adjourned until your return."
With that ominous note, the assembly rose to depart, buzzing with unsettled conversation. Jorel stared out at the city once more, his mind racing with questions and suspicions about the mysterious newcomers called humanity.
Senator Jorel gazed nervously out the viewport as the diplomatic vessel slipped from hyperspace into real space above an azure planet. Optic sensors enhanced the image, revealing massive landmasses criss-crossed by silvery waterways and dotted with points of lights in the darkness.

This was Earth, homeworld of humanity. And awaiting them down on the surface were unknown objectives - the race that had struck fear into the mighty Vraxian Empire. Jorel steeled himself. It was time to face this mystery and learn both its nature and intent.
The shuttle knifed through thin clouds, nearing one of Earth's largest conurbations - a sprawling metropolis larger than any Vraxian city. Looming steel spires jutted skyward as far as the eye could see, interlaced with gridlike streets glowing with activity even in the planet's night
A cleared landing zone came into view, ringed by vehicles the likes of which Jorel had never seen - armor-plated machines mounted with billowing cannons. As grav-engines powered down and the shuttle hatch opened, a dozen humans in camouflage uniforms awaited with weapons carried nonchalantly.
Their commander stepped forward. "Greetings. I am General Smith. Welcome to Earth, representatives of the Vraxian Empire." His tone was polite yet held an edge - as if ready to respond to hostility in an instant.
Jorel introduced himself and offered gratitude for receiving their mission, hoping to seem diplomatic. Smith merely nodded and gestured for them to follow. Armored trucks ferried the group into the city, and Jorel gazed in wonder at the sheer scale and complexity of human civilization.
Their destination soon emerged: a rugged complex within sight of the city but separate, all concrete and barbed wire. Smith led them inside a bunker where holographic battle maps floated in the air. "This is where we plan and monitor operations," he explained.
"We received your requests to observe humanity's military abilities. As a show of good faith, you may witness exercises occurring up north." The maps zoomed to a remote terrain Jorel recognized from aerial surveys - a vast proving ground
There the group watched and waited in silence. As sunrise broke, rhythmic thuds echoed across the hills, growing louder. Then they came into view - rows of armored vehicles rumbling over the ridges, pounding the earth under thick treads. Infantry swarmed behind and around the machines, hugging them for cover as they advanced in unison.
Weapons fire erupted across the valley, but the humans did not slow or divert course. They charged headlong into the simulated battle, intent on defeating all opposition through force of will if necessary. Jorel observed in mute awe, realizing all too well that humanity's edge in war was far sharper than even the most graphic reports suggested.
The expeditionary shuttle departed Earth's atmosphere, leaving its blue-green orb shrinking against the black void. Senator Jorel remained lost in thought, replaying all he had witnessed on the human homeworld. Their world, their cities, their people...all bore signs of a civilization attuned purely to warfare.
As the days of hyperspace travel passed, Jorel conferred constantly with his aides. Piecing together observations and information gleaned, a clear image emerged. Humans were descended from wild plains-dwellers who survived through perpetual conflict over scarce resources. This selected strongly for hyper-aggressive traits that had only been refined over millennia of constant strife.
Their entire social structure was organized around perpetual readiness for combat. Leaders were those most effective in martial organization and strategy. Cities existed to mass and project force efficiently. Children were indoctrinated from birth in disciplines both intellectual and physical. Even in times of peace, simulated battles remained the primary public pastime and way of life.
At last the vessel dropped out of hyperspace above Vraxi Prime. Jorel requested immediate audience with the Senate to deliver his grave report. As before, the assembly gathered in hushed anticipation of his findings. He began without preamble.
"Colleagues, I come to you with a warning. The humans are unlike any species we have faced - their entire biological and cultural evolution has been shaped by an unceasing imperative to fight. Warfare is not a tool to them, but an end in itself. Their strengths are a threat unmatched by any force we could bring to bear."
Gasps rang out. Everett motioned for Jorel to elaborate. He complied, recounting all he witnessed both in battle and within human civilization itself. By the time he finished, the assembly buzzed with a palpable panic rarely seen among their stoic kind.
Everett stood. "You have presented a dire prognosis indeed, Senator. These humans seem devoid of restraint or reason where battle is concerned. Their emergence in our space could undermine all stability hard-won. We must deter this threat by any means."
Jorel shook his head solemnly. "With respect, Speaker, I believe confrontation would be folly. Our fleets could defeat them in open war...but at heavy costs. And humanity's ferocity ensures they will fight on regardless. No, our only prudent move is vigilance and isolation. We quietly expand our buffer, while closely monitoring the humans should their expansionism grow."
A tense silence followed as the assembly weighed these alternatives. At last, Everett nodded slowly. "You counsel wisdom, Jorel. So shall it be - for now, we watch and wait, hoping these humans' own brutality does not become their universal undoing, or ours." With that ominous note, the Senate was adjourned. And so ended the discussion that began a new, uncertain chapter in Vraxian history. One that would see new shadows looming ever larger on the horizon.

At the Edge of Survival

Akeyo sat at the dinner table, her appetite lost, daydreaming about her childhood on her family's farm in Makurdi, Nigeria. Back then, her parents smiled, and the fields had life. The meals weren't fancy, but they were more than just yams. As she grew up, the farm changed. Less rain, and bad crops. The land that supported her family for generations was slowly dying.
In July 2024, when Akeyo turned 18, winter arrived early, bringing with it a piercing cold unlike any they had experienced before. It wasn't just uncomfortable, it destroyed the farm's ability to produce as the ground froze solid. Akeyo’s family farm, its fields, once rich with crops, were now just frost-covered dirt.
When winter ended in 2025, the weather quickly swung to the opposite extreme. Scorching temperatures thawed ice rapidly causing flash floods and sea levels to rise. Then came the droughts, and locust swarms destroying any hope of reviving the crops.
As Akeyo's family struggled to survive, Bill Gates appeared on livestreams, urging drastic changes. During an emergency United Nations broadcast, Gates announced the funding of the Farmer’s Visa program, aimed to help low-income farming families by relocating them to the United States. The program promised stability. “When small farms fail, whole economies fail,” Gates explained.
Akeyo's family applied. Hesitant to leave their ancestral land, but eventually accepting the reality of it being barren, they soon found themselves on a flight to Kansas. During the early days of their arrival, Gates's newly released book "The Green Solution" called for extreme measures for sustainable living and quickly became a manifesto for the younger generation, sparking a global movement demanding environmental reform. This led to the establishment of the Compliance Emissions Authority (CEA) in 2028. The CEA gained extensive powers to enforce compliance with new environmental standards, starting with the ban of carbon fuels and replacing them with a massive acreage of solar panels. It implemented advanced technologies in farming and energy production, including a network of satellites and ground sensors monitored by AI, and genetically engineered seeds that were more resistant to pests and harsh conditions. They also rolled out digital financial services and insurance against catastrophic losses, safeguarding the livelihoods of families facing the harsh realities of a rapidly changing climate. The use of CEA services was mandatory.
The Carnophage virus outbreak occurred a year later, initially harmless to livestock, it began affecting humans through the consumption of beef, leading to the deadly Crimson Plague. The rapid spread of the disease caused worldwide panic. Akeyo watched helplessly as her own mother was claimed by the plague, suffering from high fevers, severe internal bleeding, and excruciating pain, her final days marked by gruesome uncontrollable hemorrhaging.
The CEA launched the Exterminatus Protocol in 2032, banning all meat consumption and distributing a specially formulated livestock feed to humanely eradicate cattle worldwide, aiming to halt the spread of the virus. This drastic measure was met with mixed reactions; some praised its effectiveness while others whispered about the CEA's capabilities and rapid response, sparking conspiracy theories. During this time, Bill Gates announced and mass distributed Ambrosia, a clean meat alternative.
After consecutive years of disaster, along with decades of irresponsible budgeting, money printing, and hyperinflation, the U.S. government collapsed in 2033, sparking mass anarchy. In the chaos, the CEA transformed into the Venture Syndicate of America (VSA), re-establishing order at the cost of personal freedom. The VSA implemented strict controls on energy use and personal conduct, enforcing compliance through the Arbiters, a ruthless security force sourced from disbanded military personnel. The VSA had total control.
Akeyo found herself completely hopeless, in a place that never felt like home, where every aspect of life was regulated and controlled.
The VSA banned all currency by 2034, declaring "Joules" as the sole legal tender. These were directly tied to energy consumption. The VSA, now with sole ownership over energy production and storage, achieved control of the masses, making resistance nearly impossible.
Akeyo watched as her father, broken by grief and anger, was taken away. Attempting to sabotage VSA equipment in a futile act of defiance. Now alone, Akeyo struggled to comply with the harsh quotas set by the VSA, ultimately failing to meet the required seed-to-harvest ratios. Like her father, she too was swiftly apprehended. Akeyo found herself dragged into a horrifying new reality below ground. She was forced through a long, dim corridor lined with cells, each holding sickly individuals connected to machines by wires and tubes. Before she could grasp the full horror of her situation, darkness took her. Regaining consciousness, Akeyo found herself part of this grim assembly line. Tubes fed her nutrients while a cold, steel device implanted in her spine siphoned her life force. Each pulse of the machine drained her, leaving her weak and disoriented. Sometimes she experienced prolonged moments of awareness, one of these times, while moving past the observant eyes of corporate suits shielded behind glass, Akeyo overheard them coldly discussing the efficiency of stem cell and Joules extraction and the risk in return of investment from what they referred to as "biounits." Starting to make sense of it, she started to scream, but was quickly subdued by the relentless pull of the machines.
Sometime later, an unexpected explosion caused a facility-wide alarm, momentarily disrupting surveillance. Seizing the moment, Akeyo managed to break free from her harness. She crawled through the facility's corridors, her body battered and bleeding, driven by a fading hope for freedom.
Reaching an exit hatch, she emerged into the fading light of dusk, her eyes barely adjusting to the sight of an endless array of solar panels, her prison. Below, trucks marked with the logos of Joules and Ambrosia moved along a distant road. Collapsing from exhaustion, Akeyo looked at her hands, aged and withered from years of captivity. Lying on the cold ground, she gazed up at the indifferent stars and connected the dots as she whispered, "We are the clean energy."

⚜️ Freeman Old Star Shipyard of Tortuga ⚜️

🔥 HOT SALE & SPECIAL OFFERS & Warbond CCU 🔥

CCU - FROM	-> TO	Save $	Warbond Bonus	Price
Razor	Retaliator Base	-	-	$7
BMM/Orion	HAMMERHEAD	$50	-	$25
Prowler	600i BIS 2953	🔥	+paint & poster	$40
Hull D	Orion	$50	120m	$50
Prowler	Hull D	$65	-	$45
Razor	SRV	$15	-	$5

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Information about rewards can be found here - https://robertsspaceindustries.com/referral-program Consider using my referral code STAR-57F5-QBC9 when creating a new account and receive 5000 UEC in game. 🔥Anyone who uses my referral code becomes my guest of honor and receives discounts in my store🔥
 

🔥Hot discounts🔥

Item	Insurance	Price,$(CCU-ed)
F7C Hornet Mk II +Ironscale Paint	LTI	$160🔥
600I BIS 2953 +Paint&Poster OC	10y	$575🔥
Redeemer BIS 2953 +Paint&Poster OC	10y	$430🔥
Corsair BIS 2953 +Paint&Poster OC	10y	$350🔥
Vulture BIS 2953 +Paint&Poster OC	10y	$275🔥
600i Explorer BIS 2951 + Paint & Jacket CCU'd	LTI	$400🔥
MERCURY STAR RUNNER BIS 2951 + Paint & Jacket CCU'd	LTI	$210🔥
MERCURY STAR RUNNER BIS 2952 + RED ALERT Paint CCU'd	LTI	$260🔥
CARRACK BIS 2952 + RED ALERT Paint CCU'd	LTI	$600
LTI Upgrade - Reliant Kore to CNOU Nomad	LTI	$80
LTI Upgrade - 315P to CNOU Nomad	LTI	$100
M50 Subscriber Edition	LTI	$98
Cutlass RED Subscriber Edition	LTI	$133
Mantis Subscriber Edition	LTI	$148
Sabre Subscriber Edition	LTI	$168
Add-Ons - Endeavor Telescope Pod	10y	$135
Add-Ons - Endeavor Biodome Pod	10y	$110
Add-Ons - Endeavor Fuel Pod	10y	$40
Add-Ons - AEGIS Idris P After Market Kit	LTI	$260

   

⚜️ ➤ CONCIERGE PACKAGES:

Item	Insurance	Includes	Price
UEE EXPLORATION 2948 PACK	LTI	SC+SQ42+VFG+20k	$800
SCOUNDREL PACK	LTI	SC+SQ42+VFG+20k	$740
ENTREPRENEUR PACK	LTI	SC+SQ42+VFG+20k	$640

   

⚜️ ➤ ORIGINAL CONCEPTS and Cross-Chassis Upgraded ships:

Item	Insurance	CCU-ed	Original concept ♻
100I	LTI	$60	-
125A	LTI	$60	-
135c	LTI	$65	-
300I	LTI	$60	-
315P	LTI	$65	-
325A	LTI	$70	-
350R	LTI	$145	-
400I	LTI	$235	-
600I TOURING	LTI	$390	-
600I EXPLORER	LTI	$400	-
600i Explorer BIS 2951 + Paint & Jacket	LTI	$400	-
890 JUMP - IAE	10 years	-	$1250
A1 SPIRIT	LTI	$160	-
A1 SPIRIT + Intrepid Paint	LTI	-	$255
A2 HERCULES	LTI	$735	-
A2 HERCULES - IAE 2949	10 years	-	$750
Ares Inferno	LTI	$235	-
Ares ION	LTI	$235	-
Argo MOLE	LTI	$299	-
AVENGER STALKER	LTI	$60	-
AVENGER WARLOCK	LTI	$85	-
Avenger Titan - IAE 2949	10 years	-	$67
APOLLO TRIAGE	LTI	$235	-
APOLLO MEDIVAC	LTI	$260	-
ARROW	LTI	$75	-
BALLISTA	LTI	$125	-
BUCCANEER	LTI	$115	-
BLADE	LTI	$245	-
C1 SPIRIT	LTI	$100	-
C2 HERCULES	LTI	$385	-
CARRACK	LTI	$585	-
CATERPILLAR	LTI	$255🔥	-
CATERPILLAR BEST IN SHOW EDITION	LTI	$333	-
CENTURION	LTI	$105	-
CONSTELLATION TAURUS 🚚	LTI	$175	-
CONSTELLATION ANDROMEDA	LTI	$225	-
CONSTELLATION AQUILA	LTI	$295	-
CORSAIR	LTI	$189🔥	-
CORSAIR + Name Reservation	LTI	-	$777
CRUCIBLE	LTI	$335	-
CUTLASS BLACK	LTI	$99	-
CUTLASS BLACK BEST IN SHOW EDITION	LTI	$110	-
CUTLASS RED 🚑	LTI	$120	-
CUTLASS BLUE	10 years	-	$175
CUTLASS BLUE	LTI	$160	-
CUTTER	LTI	$70	-
CUTTER SCOUT	LTI	$80	-
C8R PISCES	LTI	$65	-
C8X PISCES EXPEDITION - IAE 2949	10 years	-	$62
CYDNUS	LTI	-	In Development
DEFENDER 🛸	LTI	$185	-
DRAKE DRAGONFLY RIDE TOGETHER TWO-PACK	LTI	-	$190
E1 SPIRIT	LTI	$135	-
E1 SPIRIT + Olympia Paint	LTI	-	$235
ECLIPSE	LTI	$265	-
ENDEAVOR BASE	LTI	$335	-
EXPANSE	LTI	$135	-
F7A HORNET	LTI	-	In Development
F7C HORNET	LTI	$112	-
F7C-S HORNET GHOST	LTI	$110	-
F7C-R HORNET TRACKER	LTI	$125	-
F7C HORNET WILDFIRE	LTI	$160	-
F7C-M SUPER HORNET	LTI	$165	-
F7C-M SUPER HORNET HEARTSEEKER	LTI	$180	-
F8C LIGHTNING	LTI	-	In Development
FREELANCER	LTI	$100	-
FREELANCER DUR	LTI	$120	-
FREELANCER MAX 🚚	LTI	$135	-
FREELANCER MIS	LTI	$160	-
Fury +Leatherback Paint	LTI	-	$80
Fury MX +Leatherback Paint	LTI	-	$80
GALAXY + Protector Paint	LTI	-	$450
GALAXY	LTI	$365	-
GENESIS Starliner	LTI	$385	-
GLADIATOR	LTI	$150	-
GLADIUS	LTI	$90	-
GLADIUS VALIANT	LTI	$110	-
GLAIVE 🛸	LTI	$295	-
HAWK	LTI	$102	-
HAMMERHEAD	LTI	$710	-
HERALD	LTI	$85	-
HOVERQUAD	LTI	-	$50
HULL A	LTI	$90	-
HULL B	LTI	$125	-
HULL C	LTI	-	-
HULL D	LTI	-	-
HULL E	10 years	-	$777
HURRICANE	LTI	$180	-
KHARTU-AL 🛸	LTI	$155	-
LIBERATOR	LTI	$560	-
LYNX + Moonrise Paint	LTI	-	$105
M2 HERCULES	LTI	$505	-
M50 INTERCEPTOR	LTI	$102	-
MANTIS	LTI	$135	-
MERCHANTMAN	LTI	$585	-
MERCURY STAR RUNNER	10 years	-	$250
MERCURY STAR RUNNER	LTI	$199🔥	-
MERCURY STAR RUNNER BIS 2951 + Paint & Jacket	LTI	$210	-
MPUV Cargo - ILW	10 years	-	$40
NAUTILUS	LTI	$710	-
NOMAD	LTI	$80	$110
NOVA TANK	LTI	$110	-
ODYSSEY	LTI	$685	-
ORIGIN G12 (Touring)	LTI	-	$78
ORIGIN G12A (Combat)	LTI	-	$88
ORIGIN G12R (Racing)	LTI	-	$78
ORION	LTI	$560	-
P-72 ARCHIMEDES EMERALD	LTI	$150	-
PERSEUS	LTI	$660	-
PERSEUS - ILW	10 years	-	$690
PERSEUS + Thundercloud Paint - VIP Exclusive	LTI	-	$900
PIONEER - IAE	10 years	-	$1150
POLARIS	LTI	$745	-
POLARIS - ILW	10 years	-	$760
PROSPECTOR	LTI	$140	-
PROWLER	LTI	$360	-
RAILEN 🛸🚚	LTI	$190	-
RAFT 🚚	LTI	$115	-
RANGER CV	LTI	-	-
RANGER RC	10 years	-	$50
RANGER TR	10 years	-	$50
RAZOR	LTI	$130	-
RAZOR LX	LTI	$135	-
RAZOR EX	LTI	$140	-
RETALIATOR BASE	LTI	$135	-
RETALIATOR BOMBER	10 years	-	$280
RETALIATOR BOMBER	LTI	$260	-
RECLAIMER	LTI	$385	-
REDEEMER	LTI	$310	-
REDEEMER - ILW	10 years	-	$300
RELIANT KORE	LTI	$65	-
RELIANT TANA (SKIRMISHER)	LTI	$80	-
RELIANT SEN (RESEARCHER)	LTI	$90	-
RELIANT MAKO (NEWS VAN)	LTI	$95	-
ROC	LTI	-	$140
ROC Subscribers Exclusive	LTI	$60	-
ROC Subscribers Exclusive	12m	-	$54
ROC-DS	LTI	$75	-
SAN'TOK.YĀI	LTI	$205	$400
SABRE	LTI	$155	-
SABRE COMET	LTI	$170	-
SCORPIUS ANTARES	LTI	$181	-
SCORPIUS	LTI	$191	-
SPARTAN	LTI	$80	$100
STARFARER	LTI	$285	-
STARFARER GEMINI	LTI	$270	-
STORM + Summit Paint	LTI	-	$130
STV + Blue Steel Paint	LTI	-	$55
SRV	LTI	$135	-
TALON	LTI	$115	-
TALON SHRIKE	LTI	$118	-
TERRAPIN	LTI	$205	-
VANGUARD HOPLITE	LTI	$220	-
VANGUARD WARDEN	LTI	$245	-
VANGUARD SENTINEL	LTI	$260	-
VANGUARD HARBINGER	LTI	$275	-
VALKYRIE	LTI	$270	-
VALKYRIE BIS 2950	10 years	-	-
VULCAN	LTI	$185	-
VULTURE	LTI	$135🔥	-
X1 BASELINE EDITION	LTI	-	-
X1 FORCE EDITION	LTI	-	-
X1 VELOCITY EDITION	LTI	-	-
Zeus Mk II ES +Solstice Paint	LTI	-	$235
Zeus Mk II CL +Solstice Paint	LTI	-	$235
Zeus Mk II MR +Solstice Paint	LTI	-	$270

⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️

⛵CLICK HERE TO PLACE AN ORDER ⛵

 

⚜️ ➤ SHIP PAINTS:

Item	Price
2951 Auspicious Red Paint Pack	$22
2952 Auspicious Red Paint Pack	$24
Nomad - 2951 Auspicious Red Paint	$11
Freelancer - 2951 Auspicious Red Paint	$14
Constellation - 2952 Auspicious Red Paint	$14
Sabre - 2952 Auspicious Red Paint	$12
Lovestruck Paint Pack	$26
HoverQuad - Lovestruck Paint	$8
MPUV - Lovestruck Paint	$8
Cyclone - Lovestruck Paint	$8
Arrow - Lovestruck Paint	$8
Nomad - Lovestruck Paint	$10
RAFT - Lovestruck Paint	$10
SRV - Lovestruck Paint	$11
Scorpius - Lovestruck Paint	$14
Ares - Lovestruck Paint	$14
Mole - Lovestruck Paint	$16
Ghoulish Green 4 Paint Pack	$32
Mule - Ghoulish Green Paint	$6
Herald - Ghoulish Green Paint	$8
Vulture - Ghoulish Green Paint	$12
Caterpillar - Ghoulish Green Paint	$12
Buccaneer - Ghoulish Green Paint	$9
Cutlass - Ghoulish Green Paint	$8
Dragonfly - Ghoulish Green Paint	$8
Avenger - Invictus 2950 Blue and Gold Paint	$10
Aurora - Invictus 2950 Blue and Gold Paint	$10
Constellation - 2950 Invictus Blue and Gold Paint	$18
Cyclone - Invictus Blue and Gold Paint	$8
Galaxy - Protector Paint	$15
Gladius - Invictus Blue and Gold Paint	$12
Gladius - Solar Winds Paint	$11
Hawk - Invictus Blue and Gold Paint	$10
Hercules Starlifter - Invictus Blue and Gold Paint	$20
Hornet - Invictus Blue and Gold Paint	$10
Reliant - Invictus Blue and Gold Paint	$8
Retaliator - Invictus Blue and Gold Paint	$28
Vanguard - Invictus Blue and Gold Paint	$18
Aphorite Mining Paint Pack	$35
Dolivine Mining Paint Pack	$35
Hadanite Mining Paint Pack	$35
Overdrive Racing Paint Pack	$11
Slipstream Racing Paint Pack	$11
Turbocharged Racing Paint Pack	$11
Aspire Paint Pack	$18
Central Tower Paint Pack	$18
Hosanna Paint Pack	$18
100 Series - Sand Wave Paint	$8
100 Series - Melrose Paint	$8
400i - Meridian Paint	$20
400i - Penumbra Paint	$20
600i - Cold Forge Paint	$14
600i - Sterling Paint	$19
Arrastra - Nocturne Paint	$17🔥
Aurora ILW 2950 Paint Pack	$18
Aurora - Light and Dark Grey Paint	$8
Aurora - Green and Gold Paint	$8
Avenger ILW 2950 Paint Pack	$20
Avenger - Solar Winds Paint	$10
Avenger - Copernicus Paint	$8
Avenger - Kepler Paint	$8
Avenger - De Biasio Paint	$8
Centurion - Beachhead Paint	$8
Constellation ILW 2950 Paint Pack	$27
Constellation - Dark Green Paint	$13
Cutlass Black - Skull & Crossbones Paint	$12
Defender - Platinum Paint	$15
Defender - Harmony Paint	$15
LIBERATOR - VIP exclusive Condor Paint	$33🔥
Mercury Star Runner - 2951 Fortuna Paint	$14
MOLE Aphorite Paint	$12
MOLE Dolivine Paint	$12
MOLE Hadanite Paint	$12
Nox - Harmony Paint	$8
Odyssey - Windrider Paint	$28
PERSEUS - A VIP exclusive, the Thundercloud Paint	$33🔥
Prospector Aphorite Paint	$11
Prospector Dolivine Paint	$11
Prospector Hadanite Paint	$11
Prowler - Ocellus Paint	$20
Prowler - Harmony Paint	$20
Railen - Hyaotan Paint	$20
Retaliator ILW 2950 Paint Pack	$38
Reclaimer Aphorite Paint	$15
Reclaimer Dolivine Paint	$15
Reclaimer Hadanite Paint	$15
ROC Aphorite Paint	$7
ROC Dolivine Paint	$7
ROC Hadanite Paint	$7
Scorpius - Stinger Paint	$30
Scorpius - Tiburon Paint	$12
STV - Blue Steel Paint	$5
Talon - Cobalt Paint	$10
Talon - Crimson Paint	$10
Talon - Ocellus Paint	$10
Talon - Harmony Paint	$10
Talon - Paint Pack	$30
Valkyrie ILW 2950 Paint Pack	$40
Vanguard - Solar Winds Paint	$15
Zeus Mk II - Solstice Paint	$12

 

⚜️ ➤ SUBSCRIBERS EXCLUSIVE SETS:

Set	Includes	Price
Takuetsu Replica Figurines	6 exhibits	$35
Kastak Arms Custodian SMG CitizenCon 2947 Edition	1 item	$30
Atzkav "DEADEYE" Sniper rifle	1 item	$10
Yubarev "DEADEYE" Pistol	1 item	$10
WowBlast "Blue" Desperado Toy Pistol	1 item	$8
WowBlast "Orange" Desperado Toy Pistol	1 item	$8
WowBlast "Red" Desperado Toy Pistol	1 item	$8
WowBlast "Teal" Desperado Toy Pistol	1 item	$8
Overlord Helmets DOUBLE TROUBLE	2 items	$7
Overlord Helmets FORCES OF NATURE	2 items	$7
Overlord Helmets SILENT STRIKE	2 items	$7
Overlord "Dust Storm" Armor Set	3 items	$9
Overlord "Predator" Armor Set	3 items	$9
Overlord "Riptide" Armor Set	3 items	$9
Overlord "Stinger" Armor Set	3 items	$9
Overlord "Supernova" Armor Set	3 items	$9
Overlord "Switchback" Armor Set	3 items	$9
Caudillo Helmets Pack 1	2 items	$8
Caudillo Helmets Pack 2	2 items	$8
Caudillo Helmets Pack 3	2 items	$8
NIGHTFIRE - Paladin Helmet	1 item	$6
SINGULARITY - Paladin Helmet	1 item	$6
ICEBORN - Paladin Helmet	1 item	$6
Fieldsbury Dark Bear Helmet	1 item	$8
Fieldsbury Dark Bear Helmet – ORANGE	1 item	$8
Fieldsbury Dark Bear Helmet – LIME	1 item	$8
Fieldsbury Dark Bear Helmet – BLUEBERRY	1 item	$8
Fieldsbury Dark Bear Helmet – GRAPE	1 item	$8
Fieldsbury Dark Bear Helmet – GUAVA	1 item	$8
Fieldsbury Dark Bear Sinister SIX-PACK	6 items	$26
Giocoso Helmet - Azure	1 item	$7
Giocoso Helmet - Ivory	1 item	$7
Giocoso Helmet - Obsidian	1 item	$7
Giocoso Helmet - Triple Pack	1 item	$15
Sawtooth "Sirocco" Combat Knife	1 item	$5
Sawtooth "Squall" Combat Knife	1 item	$5
Sawtooth "Bloodstone" Combat Knife	1 item	$5
Pyro RYT "Ghost" Multi-Tool	1 item	$6
Pyro RYT "Mirage" Multi-Tool	1 item	$6
Pyro RYT "Bloodline" Multi-Tool	1 item	$6
GP-33 Mod "ASHFALL" Grenade Launcher	1 item	$9
GP-33 Mod "COPPERHEAD" Grenade Launcher	1 item	$9
GP-33 Mod "THUNDERCLAP" Grenade Launcher	1 item	$9
Aves Armor & Helmet Set	4 items	$16
Aves Talon Shrike Armor and Helmet Set	4 items	$16
Aves Talon Armor and Helmet Set	4 items	$16
Neoni "Jami" Helmet	1 item	$7
Neoni "Onna" Helmet	1 item	$7
Neoni "Tengubi" Helmet	1 item	$7
Star Kitten Set	4 items	$14
Star Kittyen "SALLY" Set	4 items	$14
Star Kittyen "DAMON" Set	4 items	$14
Pembroke RSI Sunburst Exploration Armor	3 items	$15
Pembroke RSI Ivory Exploration Armor	3 items	$15
Pembroke RSI Graphite Exploration Armor	3 items	$15
Morozov Aftershock Armor	5 items	$15
Morozov Terracotta Armor	5 items	$15
Morozov Thule Armor	5 items	$15
Sakura Fun Green ORC-mkX Armor Bobblehead	1 item	$7
Sakura Fun Blue ORC-mkX Armor Bobblehead	1 item	$7
Sakura Fun White ORC-mkX Armor Bobblehead	1 item	$7
Zeus Exploration Suit	3 items	$15
Zeus Exploration Suit Solar	3 items	$15
Zeus Exploration Suit Starscape	3 items	$15
Xanthule Flight Suit	2 items	$13
Xanthule Sehya Flight Suit	2 items	$13
Xanthule Tahn Flight Suit	2 items	$13
CSP-68L Backpack Night Camo	1 item	$6
CSP-68L Backpack Cayman	1 item	$6
CSP-68L Backpack Forest Camo	1 item	$6
CitizenCon 2951 Digital Goodies	7 items	$10
CitizenCon 2951 Trophy	7 items	$10

 

⚜️➤ SHIP UPGRADES - CROSS-CHASSIS UPGRADES (CCUs, upgrades), some upgrades can be chain in few steps CCU's:

SHIP	TARGET SHIP	<	Upgrade from	Price
400I
	400I	<	CONSTELLATION ANDROMEDA	$15
600I EXPLORER
	600I EXPLORER	<	PROWLER	$70
ARGO MOLE
	ARGO MOLE	<	CONSTELLATION AQUILA	$7
	ARGO MOLE	<	MERCURY STAR RUNNER	$59
	ARGO MOLE	<	VANGUARD WARDEN	$59
	ARGO MOLE	<	RETALIATOR BOMBER	$43
	ARGO MOLE	<	VANGUARD SENTINEL	$43
	ARGO MOLE	<	APOLLO MEDIVAC	$43
	ARGO MOLE	<	ESPERIA VANDUUL BLADE	$43
	ARGO MOLE	<	VANGUARD HARBINGER	$27
	ARGO MOLE	<	REDEEMER	$70
	ARGO MOLE	<	HULL C	$70
	ARGO MOLE	<	APOLLO TRIAGE	$70
ARROW
	ARROW	<	AURORA MR	$50
	ARROW	<	MUSTANG ALPHA	$50
	ARROW	<	C8X PISCES EXPEDITION	$35
	ARROW	<	100i	$30
	ARROW	<	AVENGER TITAN	$25
	ARROW	<	RELIANT KORE	$15
CATERPILLAR BEST IN SHOW EDITION
	CATERPILLAR BISE	<	VANGUARD HARBINGER	$100
CORSAIR
	CORSAIR	<	TAURUS	$60
CRUCIBLE
	CRUCIBLE	<	STARFARER GEMINI	$21
CUTLASS BLACK BEST IN SHOW EDITION
	CUTLASS BLACK BISE	<	GLADIUS	$70
CUTLASS RED Subscriber
	CUTLASS RED Subscriber	<	F7C-S HORNET GHOST	$25
CUTLASS BLUE
	CUTLASS BLUE	<	PROSPECTOR	$30
DEFENDER
	DEFENDER	<	CORSAIR	$15
	DEFENDER	<	HORNET F7C-M HEARTSEEKER	$37
GLADIUS
	GLADIUS	<	AURORA MR	$65
	GLADIUS	<	MUSTANG ALPHA	$65
	GLADIUS	<	C8X PISCES EXPEDITION	$50
	GLADIUS	<	100i	$45
	GLADIUS	<	AVENGER TITAN	$40
	GLADIUS	<	RELIANT KORE	$30
	GLADIUS	<	ARROW	$20
HAMMERHEAD
	HAMMERHEAD	<	CARRACK	$150
	HAMMERHEAD	<	CARRACK EXPEDITION W/C8X	$100
HULL C
	HULL C	<	CATERPILLAR	$175
MERCHANTMAN
	MERCHANTMAN	<	STARFARER GEMINI	$300
	MERCHANTMAN	<	ARGO MOLE	$345
NAUTILUS
	NAUTILUS	<	CARRACK	$175
PERSEUS
	PERSEUS	<	CARRACK Expedition W/C8X	$40
	PERSEUS	<	CARRACK	$90
	PERSEUS	<	ORION	$115
	PERSEUS	<	600I EXPLORER	$220
	PERSEUS	<	MERCHANTMAN	$248
	PERSEUS	<	ARGO MOLE	$380
	PERSEUS	<	ANDROMEDA	$485
POLARIS
	POLARIS	<	PERSEUS	$70
	POLARIS	<	HAMMERHEAD	$70
	POLARIS	<	NAUTILUS	$60
	POLARIS	<	CARRACK	$250
RECLAIMER BIS 2949
	RECLAIMER BIS 2949	<	VALKYRIE	$300
SAN'TOK.YĀI
	SAN'TOK.YĀI	<	HORNET F7C-M HEARTSEEKER	$37

⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️

⛵CLICK HERE TO PLACE AN ORDER ⛵

[A popular Skald tale of the mid First Era until it was banned by twenty-fifth century High Queen Seldanna, among a climate of religious radicalism and decline of the various Jhunal cults, for blasphemy and “apology of unclean and evil spirits”. The following is taken from a rare copy to have survived the auto-da-fé as it was taken by a Redoran warrior as a trophy. Unfortunately, the passage of time has damaged it considerably and only some fragments near the beginning of the tale are still legible.]
[… rejected? / cursed?] the people of Bromjunaar for their cowardice, Owl-eyed Shalidor journeyed alone to face the Dwarves, knowing that this would mean his death. But his heart was light, for he was Fox-minded and knew that Sovngarde awaited him.
As he crossed the pass of Bleakfalls, he came upon a great beast, Dragon-winged and yet spindly, green and six-limbed who addressed him, not as Owl-Eyed Shalidor, but by his Clever-Name which must be kept secret. “Surely you must be a god, to [know that name which] only my teacher in the ways of the stars and earth knows for she bestowed it upon me, spoke the Cleverest of Clever Men. Your shape is that of a dragon foul, though insect-limbed, are you then of the World-Eater’s kin?” “Of Al-Du-In the Kalpa Turner’s kin I am, in a way there are no words in your tongue to describe, spoke the beast, with no fear of the Terrible Name (may His sleep last for a thousand and eight times a thousand and eight years more), but be assured that He is not come yet, nor do I come at His behest.” “Surely then, you are the Woodland Man or of one of his host, as known by the shade of your scales, come to me in this desert place as is your wont.” “Herma-Mora I am not nor in his service, though he too is kin to the Al-Du-In, in a way you would not understand.” “Surely then, you are the World-Eater’s servant, the Old Knocker, or of his host, honoring your master by wearing his likeness, or as close as you dare.” ["Orkey] I am not, though I call him brother, by which I do not mean what you do, nor a servant of his. As he has learned as much from me as I from him” “Surely then, you [are the Mountain]’s Fart or of his kin, as revealed by your stench.” “You insult me by likening me to Mauloch. Know that he has no kin, for he is clan-less and exile as a reckoning for his many trespasses, and so he shall be until the end of this world and beyond. But I tire of your guesses. If you do not recognize me, then be witness to my glory so that you may know me!”
“I am the Skeever-Dragon who commands to all ills that no axe may rend and no shield may block! I am Falling Rock and Rising Cloud! I am Spring Come and Summer’s End! I am the Green-Gold Tone of the Strong-Shield City! I am the Barrier Impassable! I am PEH-RII-YIT, Master of all Cycles and Circles smaller than the House of We!" And with these words the dragon unfurled his wings and stretched them all over the mountain pass, in a great wall, translucent and yet strong enough that Kyne’s winds themselves had to climb over them.
But Faithful Shalidor was not afraid, for he feared no devil. “You are kin to many a dark god, all foes to Shor and true [Nords? / Men? / warriors?] everywhere. If it is battle you seek, then ready yourself, for I am a mighty warrior and a mightier wizard.” “Peace, willful Shalidor. I am not your foe, for I am He Who Lifts Those who are Low And Overthrows Those who are High; and so I have no foes nor friends, which is to say, all mortals are my foes and my friends in turn. And, though the Nords have risen high in the past, they are now lower than they have been, kingless and kinslaying, while the Dwarves have risen higher than any mortal kind ever has or will. And so, I come here today as your foes’ foe.” “You wish now to task me with casting down their mighty kingdoms? That I will not do, for my reckoning is with [blasphemous? / screaming? / cursing? Rourken] and his clan alone.” “For that I require no aid, presumptuous [Shalidor,] for their Doom is already marching upon them, and my part in this is so subtle that none may […] a cure might find something else entirely. No, If I come to you, it is for a lesser matter. Know you the two weapons of King Rourken […] “Of his strength-drinking hammer, I have nothing to fear, for he has it not with him to wield in battle this day. Even now, I need only gaze upward to behold its unholy sight, red comet of ruin, defacing the [domain of Kyne], which is but one of the many sacrileges […] […] may do with as you please, I care not for it. But it is but the lesser weapon, and it is the other that matters to me. Spell-Breaker it is called, a mighty metal drum it is, resonating with the [Music? / Song? / Voice?] of the World. Itis mine by right! By my [craft? / hand? was it smithed] by my art magic’d. But with profane sciences and forbidden sorceries, Proud Rourken has severed it from me and boasts now of […] He wields it like a shield for no Clever-Craft, not even your Voice, may strike it without the blow echoing to the assailant and striking him down while […], and so should you face him even in duel, your doom is certain without my aid.”
Owl-Eyed Shalidor took pause at this, for though he was prepared to die, it was his hope that the corpse of Rourken and many of his warriors would pave his way to Sovngarde. But no glory there is in fighting an enemy that you cannot strike down. A fool’s death does not open the way [to Shor’s Hall… … I?] shall teach you to craft a shield with which […] return Spell-Breaker. […] alike to Spell-Breaker’s shadow, for you to wield three times nine years or until […] Glamoril which is a secret that even the Dwarves […] High Hrothgar.”
[…] near the meadery of Skjolf Half-Reach […] Nine-less-one days and nights of labor […] ran to honey-fields, holding aloft shining, light-made Spell-Mirror for the sun and stars to witness. Spell-Mirror! Shield of legend! By Clever-Craft wrought! By bravery gloried! […]
[…] metal centipedes, by false-elves flanked, while whales of cloth and iron sailed the sky overhead, such was the might of Dwemereth on the march! Boldly did Owl-Eyed Shalidor stand upon hilltop to issue challenge, with Sunstaff in his right hand and Spell-Mirror […]
[…] as I did on the fields of Dunmereth, whereupon I saw the ranks of you, Tongue-thieving barbarians, break and run most cravenly. I spit on your Harbinger once, and I spit on your gods twice, and I spit on your challenge thrice. For I am King and greater than they, and I remember the days of the Elder Wood that your kind already forgot.”
And Blasphemous Rourken did motion his warriors to […] broken faces in the snow, dwarf-swords slipped from their lifeless hands […] I bid you again, O proud King, face me in duel […] had already donned his war-mask whose mouth opened like [????], you are brave, son of the Winter’s Hold, and I see by your hand a drum, whose making is alike a blazon of the traitor I know now I shall avenge myself on. But know that you are doomed, for, though the science of our [shield…] I studied under [the Giants???] and so my craftsmanship […] victorious [Kyne? / khan?…] Shout echoed from one steadfast combatant to the other, trapped and ever growing in fury, so that the earth rent and the nearby […]’s ears bled […] not know what happens when like fights against like? Yield now, fool, or see us both die this day! […] Spell-Breaking-Mirror which was like […]
[…] South-bound, towards the holds of the monkey-worshipping heirs of Borgas the Godless’ thanes […] paying Whale-Price by laying near Spell-Breaker, one torc for each warrior, one false-elf for each noble, three weights of dwarf-metal for each woman, one weight of dwarf metal for each child, five goats for each flying [vessel? / palace? / laboratory? …]

Notes:

• I am EXTREMELY busy. I try to check my messages at least once per day, but sometimes it could take up to 3-4 days. Please be patient if I don't get back to you immediately. Thank you!
  
• I buy only in Unrevealed Key Link Format or Plain Steam Keys. No gift links.
  
• For PayPal, I am in the US region and I only send via G&S. Please note there will be PayPal fees (including international/conversion and purchasing fees) to consider.
  
• All games that you sell to me should ideally be REGION-FREE. Please ensure the games are not region-locked/bound to a specific country.
  
• You must be willing to fill a spreadsheet with steam keys.
  

 
I pay with the following:
TF2 & PayPal
 

I BUY HB Games	with TF2	with PayPal	Currently Active Humble Bundle?
7 Days to Die	0.8 TF2	$1.56 PP	-
A Little To The Left	2.1 TF2	$3.98 PP	-
Alien: Isolation	1.5 TF2	$2.93 PP	-
Aliens: Fireteam Elite	1.4 TF2	$2.69 PP	-
Arma 3	4.2 TF2	$7.95 PP	-
Assetto Corsa Ultimate Edition	1.9 TF2	$3.56 PP	-
Automobilista 2	1.6 TF2	$3.03 PP	-
BIOMUTANT	1.4 TF2	$2.75 PP	-
BROFORCE	0.8 TF2	$1.46 PP	-
Baldur's Gate II: Enhanced Edition	0.8 TF2	$1.43 PP	-
Baldur's Gate: Enhanced Edition	0.8 TF2	$1.44 PP	-
Barony	2.6 TF2	$4.9 PP	-
Barotrauma	3.8 TF2	$7.26 PP	-
Batman - The Telltale Series	1.3 TF2	$2.43 PP	-
Batman Arkham Collection	1.1 TF2	$2.08 PP	-
Batman: Arkham Origins	0.6 TF2	$1.21 PP	-
Batman™: Arkham Knight Premium Edition	1.0 TF2	$1.83 PP	-
Bayonetta	0.7 TF2	$1.34 PP	-
Beyond Two Souls	1.7 TF2	$3.31 PP	-
Blasphemous	1.4 TF2	$2.69 PP	-
Bloodstained: Ritual of the Night	0.5 TF2	$0.91 PP	-
Borderlands 3 Super Deluxe Edition	4.9 TF2	$9.36 PP	-
Borderlands 3	3.1 TF2	$5.88 PP	-
Borderlands: The Handsome Collection	3.0 TF2	$5.73 PP	-
Builder Simulator	0.4 TF2	$0.78 PP	-
Celeste	0.8 TF2	$1.57 PP	-
Chernobylite Enhanced Edition	0.9 TF2	$1.78 PP	-
Cities: Skylines	2.2 TF2	$4.18 PP	-
Code Vein	1.2 TF2	$2.26 PP	-
Conan Exiles	2.5 TF2	$4.79 PP	-
Contractors	2.9 TF2	$5.56 PP	-
Control Ultimate Edition	2.6 TF2	$4.85 PP	-
Crusader Kings III	4.4 TF2	$8.38 PP	-
DARK SOULS™ II: Scholar of the First Sin	4.8 TF2	$9.15 PP	-
DEATH STRANDING DIRECTOR'S CUT	4.4 TF2	$8.34 PP	-
DRAGON BALL XENOVERSE 2	2.3 TF2	$4.44 PP	-
Dark Souls III	7.2 TF2	$13.74 PP	-
Dark Souls III: Deluxe Edition	9.9 TF2	$18.86 PP	-
DayZ	10.6 TF2	$20.07 PP	-
Dead Island - Definitive Edition	0.8 TF2	$1.52 PP	-
Dead Island Definitive Collection	0.9 TF2	$1.72 PP	-
Dead Island Riptide Definitive Edition	0.7 TF2	$1.24 PP	-
Dead by Daylight	3.1 TF2	$5.97 PP	-
Deep Rock Galactic	3.0 TF2	$5.62 PP	-
Destiny 2: Beyond Light	1.0 TF2	$1.85 PP	-
Destiny 2: Bungie 30th Anniversary Pack	1.3 TF2	$2.47 PP	-
Destiny 2: Forsaken Pack	1.0 TF2	$1.9 PP	-
Destiny 2: Lightfall	4.0 TF2	$7.55 PP	-
Destiny 2: Shadowkeep	1.0 TF2	$1.93 PP	-
Destiny 2: The Witch Queen	2.0 TF2	$3.85 PP	-
Destroy All Humans! 2 - Reprobed	0.7 TF2	$1.4 PP	-
Devil May Cry HD Collection	1.8 TF2	$3.45 PP	-
Devil May Cry® 4 Special Edition	1.4 TF2	$2.74 PP	-
DiRT Rally	0.8 TF2	$1.51 PP	-
Disco Elysium - The Final Cut	1.6 TF2	$2.95 PP	-
Doom Eternal	2.2 TF2	$4.17 PP	-
Dragon Ball FighterZ	2.0 TF2	$3.79 PP	-
Dragons Dogma - Dark Arisen	0.9 TF2	$1.77 PP	-
Dungeon Defenders	3.0 TF2	$5.78 PP	-
EARTH DEFENSE FORCE 5	4.3 TF2	$8.2 PP	-
ELEX II	0.8 TF2	$1.57 PP	-
Europa Universalis IV	3.2 TF2	$6.16 PP	-
Expeditions: Rome	0.5 TF2	$0.89 PP	-
FTL: Faster Than Light	0.7 TF2	$1.41 PP	-
Fallout: A Post Nuclear Role Playing Game	0.4 TF2	$0.81 PP	-
Farming Simulator 19	2.2 TF2	$4.23 PP	-
For The King	0.5 TF2	$0.92 PP	-
Forager	0.8 TF2	$1.58 PP	-
Frostpunk	0.8 TF2	$1.51 PP	-
GRID 2	1.9 TF2	$3.66 PP	-
Gang Beasts	2.6 TF2	$4.97 PP	-
Gas Station Simulator	3.1 TF2	$5.8 PP	-
Generation Zero®	0.7 TF2	$1.36 PP	-
Ghostwire Tokyo	1.4 TF2	$2.69 PP	-
Goat Simulator	0.4 TF2	$0.8 PP	-
Golf It!	1.8 TF2	$3.42 PP	-
Gotham Knights	1.5 TF2	$2.83 PP	-
Graveyard Keeper	0.5 TF2	$0.9 PP	-
Grim Dawn	2.5 TF2	$4.66 PP	-
Hell Let Loose	7.1 TF2	$13.47 PP	-
Hellblade: Senua's Sacrifice	1.4 TF2	$2.69 PP	-
Hitman Absolution	0.4 TF2	$0.79 PP	-
Hollow Knight	3.4 TF2	$6.43 PP	-
Homeworld Remastered Collection	0.4 TF2	$0.78 PP	-
Hotline Miami	0.5 TF2	$0.87 PP	-
House Flipper	2.0 TF2	$3.89 PP	-
Injustice 2 Legendary Edition	0.6 TF2	$1.2 PP	-
Into the Radius VR	2.9 TF2	$5.5 PP	-
Jurassic World Evolution 2	2.7 TF2	$5.19 PP	-
Just Cause 3 XXL Edition	1.4 TF2	$2.63 PP	-
Keep Talking and Nobody Explodes	1.7 TF2	$3.16 PP	-
Kerbal Space Program	1.1 TF2	$2.07 PP	-
Killing Floor 2	0.6 TF2	$1.14 PP	-
Kingdom: Two Crowns	1.5 TF2	$2.94 PP	-
LEGO Marvel Super Heroes 2 - Deluxe Edition	0.9 TF2	$1.77 PP	-
LEGO Star Wars : The Complete Saga	0.6 TF2	$1.17 PP	-
LEGO Star Wars III: The Clone Wars	0.6 TF2	$1.22 PP	-
LEGO® City Undercover	0.7 TF2	$1.3 PP	-
LEGO® Jurassic World™	0.8 TF2	$1.57 PP	-
Lethal League Blaze	1.8 TF2	$3.44 PP	-
Life is Strange 2 Complete Season	1.4 TF2	$2.72 PP	-
Life is Strange: True Colors	1.5 TF2	$2.82 PP	-
Little Nightmares	1.1 TF2	$2.06 PP	-
Loop Hero	0.8 TF2	$1.44 PP	-
METAL GEAR SOLID V: THE PHANTOM PAIN	3.3 TF2	$6.31 PP	-
METAL GEAR SOLID V: The Definitive Experience	3.5 TF2	$6.61 PP	-
Mad Max	0.7 TF2	$1.3 PP	-
Mafia: Definitive Edition	2.4 TF2	$4.56 PP	-
Mass Effect™ Legendary Edition	4.7 TF2	$8.87 PP	-
MechWarrior 5: Mercenaries	2.6 TF2	$4.89 PP	-
Men of War: Assault Squad 2 Deluxe Edition	1.3 TF2	$2.4 PP	-
Metro 2033 Redux	0.5 TF2	$0.92 PP	-
Metro Exodus	1.3 TF2	$2.47 PP	-
Metro Redux Bundle	0.7 TF2	$1.25 PP	-
Middle-earth™: Shadow of War™ Definitive Edition	0.9 TF2	$1.65 PP	-
Midnight Ghost Hunt	0.8 TF2	$1.45 PP	-
Monster Hunter: World	2.0 TF2	$3.87 PP	-
Mordhau	1.9 TF2	$3.6 PP	-
Mortal Kombat XL	0.6 TF2	$1.13 PP	-
Mortal Shell	0.5 TF2	$0.97 PP	-
NASCAR Heat 5 - Ultimate Edition	0.4 TF2	$0.75 PP	-
NBA 2K23	5.3 TF2	$10.16 PP	-
Naruto Shippuden: Ultimate Ninja Storm 4	2.2 TF2	$4.18 PP	-
Naruto to Boruto Shinobi Striker	0.9 TF2	$1.76 PP	-
Nioh 2 - The Complete Edition	2.7 TF2	$5.18 PP	-
Nobody Saves the World	0.5 TF2	$0.95 PP	-
Northgard	2.4 TF2	$4.5 PP	-
Orcs Must Die! 3	1.6 TF2	$3.01 PP	-
Outlast 2	0.9 TF2	$1.68 PP	-
Overcooked! 2	1.2 TF2	$2.3 PP	-
PC Building Simulator	0.6 TF2	$1.14 PP	-
PGA TOUR 2K21	0.9 TF2	$1.8 PP	-
Plague Inc: Evolved	1.9 TF2	$3.56 PP	-
Planet Coaster	2.4 TF2	$4.59 PP	-
Planet Zoo	2.5 TF2	$4.75 PP	-
PlateUp!	1.0 TF2	$1.85 PP	-
Prison Architect	2.7 TF2	$5.14 PP	-
Project Wingman	1.5 TF2	$2.94 PP	-
RESIDENT EVIL 3	2.0 TF2	$3.76 PP	-
Rain World	0.9 TF2	$1.78 PP	-
Remnant: From the Ashes - Complete Edition	2.5 TF2	$4.69 PP	-
Resident Evil 4 Ultimate HD Edition	1.0 TF2	$1.83 PP	-
Resident Evil 5 GOLD Edition	1.1 TF2	$2.04 PP	-
Resident Evil 6	1.3 TF2	$2.46 PP	-
Resident Evil® 5	1.7 TF2	$3.18 PP	-
Rising Storm 2: Vietnam	0.5 TF2	$0.9 PP	-
Road 96	0.5 TF2	$1.02 PP	-
SCUM	4.7 TF2	$8.86 PP	-
STAR WARS® THE FORCE UNLEASHED II	0.6 TF2	$1.11 PP	-
STAR WARS™ Knights of the Old Republic™ II - The Sith Lords™	0.5 TF2	$0.91 PP	-
Satisfactory	5.0 TF2	$9.55 PP	-
Scorn	0.8 TF2	$1.49 PP	-
Sid Meier's Civilization VI	1.2 TF2	$2.33 PP	-
Slay the Spire	2.5 TF2	$4.79 PP	-
Sleeping Dogs™ Definitive Edition	1.0 TF2	$1.95 PP	-
Slime Rancher	1.1 TF2	$2.11 PP	-
Sniper Elite 4	1.0 TF2	$1.96 PP	-
Space Engineers	2.6 TF2	$4.91 PP	-
Spec Ops: The Line	4.3 TF2	$8.21 PP	-
SpeedRunners	0.4 TF2	$0.82 PP	-
Spintires: MudRunner	1.0 TF2	$1.85 PP	-
Squad	6.7 TF2	$12.77 PP	-
Star Wars Republic Commando™	0.4 TF2	$0.82 PP	-
Star Wars: Jedi Knight: Jedi Academy	0.4 TF2	$0.71 PP	-
Star Wars® Empire at War™: Gold Pack	0.6 TF2	$1.09 PP	-
State of Decay 2: Juggernaut Edition	4.9 TF2	$9.37 PP	-
Stellaris	3.3 TF2	$6.25 PP	-
Stellaris: Federations	2.7 TF2	$5.11 PP	-
Streets of Rogue	0.5 TF2	$0.91 PP	-
Subnautica	5.3 TF2	$10.08 PP	-
Sunset Overdrive	0.8 TF2	$1.52 PP	-
TEKKEN 7	1.9 TF2	$3.56 PP	-
The Ascent	0.6 TF2	$1.18 PP	-
The Dark Pictures Anthology: House of Ashes	1.3 TF2	$2.42 PP	-
The Dark Pictures Anthology: Man of Medan	2.2 TF2	$4.21 PP	-
The Escapists 2	1.0 TF2 Refer To My Other Thread	$1.89 PP Refer To My Other Thread	Team17: From Gold Greens to Battle Scenes Bundle
The Jackbox Party Pack 3	2.3 TF2	$4.45 PP	-
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Synopsis: After eight years of living a nomadic life, one filled with constant danger, Duck and his family have finally found a home in a school for troubled youth. It didn't come with out cost, friends either died or were taken away during a raid from the Delta. But that was over, the residents of Ericson's won, the Delta was defeated and they can finally live in peace.
But one fateful day, months after the Delta was gone, Duck is faced with a terrible discovery. Three horrible words that made his blood run cool.
"Clem is missing!"
Now Duck must undertake a journey like no other. He doesn't care how long it might take. He will get her back. one way or another, he will get his sister back.
____________________________________________________________________
The cool winter breeze wisps around him faintly, as he sits by a fire, reflecting on his past… Coloring with his best friend, pretending to be Robin, solving mysteries… Were this another life, he'd be roasting hotdogs over the flame. Fishing with his Dad. Toasting marshmallows with his friends until they reach that perfect, golden-brown skin. Instead he was thrown into this hellish world, one that brings out the worst in humanity. One that transforms people into monsters; mentally and physically. One ruled by the dead.
Duck closes his eyes, taking in all the senses. The smell of woodsmoke. The feeling of snowflakes gently landing on his skin. Hearing the light creaking of titanic metal power lines. He smiles softly as he remembers this place. It was the last place he felt at peace. As close to peace as one can feel in this hellscape anyway. His smile grows as he hears the sound of crunching snow behind him. “I recognize your footsteps old man.”
Chuckling, Kenny sits down next to his son. “Nothin’ gets by ya, huh kiddo?”
“Nope.”
Duck looks at his father and can’t help but beam. They sit together in silence for what feels like forever, enjoying each other's company.
“It's been a while, hasn't it?” Kenny asks.
“Yea, it has.”
He pauses for a moment, “So we're still having our talks here?”
“Yea, I mean, this was the last place I’d spent some time with you. At least before everything went to shit.” He looks down with a woeful tone in his voice. Memories of that day begin to fill his mind. The cold bite of the blizzard, friends lost, enemies gained.
Kenny sighs, “Yea, that was a shitty day wasn't it.”
Wanting to change the subject, Kenny then glances at his son’s hat. “Still wearing that dirty old thing I see.”
Duck turns his gaze towards the campfire, taking off the old cap from his head and staring at it. It’s a crusty thing, the once orange and white colors now faded, along with the memories that come with it. Duck’s smile falls as older memories start to surface. Kenny knows that look.
“Hey,” he gently grasps Duck's shoulder, “it wasn't your fault, you had no control over what happened, no one did.”
“I know, it just feels like I could've done something, anything, to save her.” Duck takes a breath to keep the tears welling up in his eyes from falling.
After a few minutes of silence, Kenny speaks up, “So, how’d the rescue go?”
Duck then goes on about what happened on the boat. How they snuck aboard. How they encountered Minerva after her and Lilly’s manipulation of Violet. How Minerva was brainwashed into killing her own twin. He tells him everything. Right up until the events on the beach. “So I’m the last one to the cart before Louis. Helping Vi into it. I suddenly hear someone shouting Clem's name. I turn around and see Minerva chuck a grenade at Clem and AJ, yelling ‘fuck you!’ Next thing I know the grenade goes off, the horse goes crazy and bolts because of the explosion, dragging everyone away..”
“Shit.” Kenny contemplates this.
“Yeah.” Duck sighs as continues the story, “Later, after we returned back to the school, I practically flew out of the cart and went searching for Clem, AJ and Tenn. At the time, I didn't know Louis followed me. So you could imagine my reaction when he accidentally stepped on a stick.”
Kenny chuckles, with Duck joining him. “Poor guy nearly pissed himself.”
As Duck continues his story, tears start to well up his eyes. “AJ found us, I expected to see Clem with him, so as you can imagine I was worried. When he told us what happened, I just- I dunno.”
Kenny pulls his son into a hug. Duck lets his tears fall, he tries holding it back but the sobs come in heaves. The combination of his father's embrace and recounting the events of that night overwhelm him. He feels it all as if he’s put right back in that moment, lost and helpless. His ribcage shudders as his tears dry and sobs soften. Duck clears his throat.
“So, how's Clem been?” Kenny asks after waiting a few moments.
“Better, lately. She's been moving a lot more the past few weeks. She's actually to the point where she can help fish for a bit. I think she might be better than you, dad.” Duck laughs as Kenny gives him a playfully offended look, but regains his composure, “She has a boyfriend now too.”
Kenny’s eyes widened a bit. “No shit?”
“No shit.”
“So, who is it? Was it what's his name, Gabe is it? Was it Gabe?” Duck could help but laugh at his father's guess.
“No dad, It's not Gabe, thankfully.” and with an annoyed tone Duck reveals, “It's Louis.”
Now it’s Kenny's turn to laugh, “She’s dating Billy Joel!? That her boyfriend?”
“Yep.” He said, popping the ‘p’ as he spoke, “I don't understand what she sees in him. He's loud, annoying, and has a flair for the theatrics. The only thing I will say is that he's decent at the piano.”
“Hell, sounds a lot like a kid I know.”
“Hey!” Duck smiles.
“You’re right… you’re right. You never were too good at piano.”
“Hey…”
Kenny grins before getting back to their previous conversation. “So how’d you find out?”
“It was a few days after AJ brought Clem back. I was wandering around the school, when I heard Louis playing. I went in to talk to him, I walked in, looked at the piano and saw a carving that had a ‘C + L’ on it. As soon as I saw the heart around it, I knew they were a thing. I had a long talk with him.” Duck remembered his impromptu speech. “But, as long as Clem is happy, I'll tolerate him. Besides, if he hurts her, it won't be me that he'll have to worry about.”
Kenny chuckles, “Yep, Clem always had that fire in her… Must’ve gotten it from Lee. I swear… those two have gotta be the most protective sumbitches I’ve ever met.” Kenny looks up, and thinks for a moment.
“Yeah, she’s a fighter, that’s for sure. I’m glad someone like her is there with you, to watch over you and all.” Kenny cheekily looks over to Duck, knowing this’ll get a rise out of him.
“Hey, I’ve protected her plenty too y’know!”
He laughs, before getting more sincere “I know. You’ve come so far since before this all started. Grown, more than any kid your age should have to. I never got the chance to tell you… I am just so proud of you.”
Duck takes a moment before the words come out, for once he’s left speechless. Kenny looks at him, with a look of deep recognition and understanding. The blustering blizzard winds rustle his hair and eyepatch, as Duck looks back up at him.
The flames slowly die as the two talk. Kenny looks down at the small tongues of fire with a look of sad longing. Duck follows his gaze and sighs. “Time to go?” Kenny nods.
Duck hugs his father. “I miss you dad, so much. I hope you're happy wherever you are.”
“Me too son, me too.” He gives his son a warm, fatherly smile, “Let's talk again soon, Duck. Can't be sitting on my ass in the snow alone now, can I?”
Duck smiles bittersweetly, “Sure dad, we'll talk again.”
They say their goodbyes and the world fades into darkness.
____________________________________________________________________
Duck awakes on a soft surface. A crisp, cool smell of the imminent arrival of autumn fills his lungs. He stretches his legs, wiping the sleep from his eyes. As he sits up, several satisfying pops run along his back. Being tall has its advantages, but some days he envies Clementine’s height just so he doesn't have to deal with his back joints stifling up.
Getting up from his bed, he observes the empty room. AJ and Clementine are gone, obviously, he figures they went on their morning walks. Ever since she got her new leg, the two have gone and started walking every morning so she can get her strength up. Willy still boasts about how he made it for her in less than a week, he’s trying to find ways to improve it though. Two months later now and Clementine’s almost ready to start helping outside of the walls again. AJ is really looking forward to going fishing with her. Soon, Duck gets up and starts making his way outside for his work.
Walking into the courtyard, Duck soaks in the crisp early fall air on his skin. He knows they’ve gotta start storing supplies before snow comes. Scanning the yard, his eyes land on Violet. She’s holding a piece of paper and knelt in front of a cross, it’s been a while since Duck saw her doing this. Making his way to her, he hears her hushedly speaking to the small wooden cross. Duck finds a spot beside her. If she’s surprised by his arrival, she’s not showing it. The past few months have been hard on Violet. She shut people out for the first few weeks after getting back from the boat, a mixture of guilt and depression. But she is getting better, and Duck makes sure to be there for her when he can. After all, he’s no stranger to loss.
“So, how's the eye?” He asks hesitantly.
“It's better. Still can't see shit through it, but it's better.” She answers, “at least I have one of my eyes working, sorta.”
Duck smiles. “On the bright side, you'll be back to kicking walker ass before you know it. Meat cleaver in hand, cutting down an entire herd single handedly.”
Violet chuckles, “single handedly, huh? I like the sound of that.”
The two sit in silence for a few moments before Violet speaks up. “Do you… think that they watch us? Tenn, Minnie, Mitch, Sophie, everyone who didn’t make it?”
Duck thinks about that. “Maybe.” He answers, “If there's anything after this life, then maybe they do.”
Violet then turns towards him, eyes still filled with regret. “Kenny- I wanted to-”
Before she can continue Duck butts in. “Violet, I’ve said it before and I'll say it a million more times. There is nothing for you to apologize for, not any more. Yes what happened on the boat was shitty, but Lilly got in your head. You're my friend and a mistake ain’t gonna change that, okay? So you can stop apologizing, because it’s not yours or mine or anyone else’s fault..”
She looks pensive but leans in and nudges his shoulder with hers, “Yeah. Maybe you’re right.”
“I always am,” he grinned back, then his face became more sincere, “just know that despite everything, you're still my friend Vi. Flaws and all.”
“Thanks Ken.”
After a minute or two, Duck stands up. He offers Violet a hand up and she takes it. “Well, I gotta go, Ruby is expecting me in the greenhouse.”
Violet smiles and waves him goodbye as he heads off to help Ruby. As he makes his way over, he can’t help but look at the trees, their leaves now a beautiful mix of gold and green. Soon they’ll turn to browns and reds, then slowly, one by one, fall from their parent tree and float down and down to the floor. He always admires the beauty of the colors, especially during the transition period between summer and autumn. It’s one of the few things in this world that brings him some semblance of peace. That was until he, Clementine, and AJ were brought into Ericson's. Ever since that day, he knew this could be a new home.
As he arrives at the greenhouse, he draws a long breath, taking in the smells of the plant life growing within. He strolls in only to find Ruby swearing up a storm, her hands firmly gripping a stubborn root. Chuckling, Duck moves over to help her.
After what seems like forever, the two finally manage to uproot the root with a tumble. Laughing, they get up and Duck starts tending the rest of the plants.
Hours later, Duck hears a frantic yelling. Someone’s calling for him. He and Ruby share a worried glance as they quickly leave the greenhouse. As they enter the main courtyard, Duck sees AJ on the bench surrounded by everyone. The poor boy’s hyperventilating, tear marks stained his cheeks. Duck runs straight over to him.
“AJ, what happened?” He notices that Clementine isn’t around, “Where's Clem?”
“She's… She's…” AJ's breath is very shallow, Duck feels the fear in his eyes. Something is very, very wrong.
“AJ, slow down, take deep breaths.” Duck inhales and exhales deeply, motioning AJ to mimic him. After a few moments, AJ calms his breath and smiles meekly at Duck for helping. “Good, now AJ, do you know where Clem is?”
AJ looks him in the eyes, like he was about to cry again. AJ looks down, shaking his head before continuing. Duck’s blood runs cold.
“Clem is missing.”

I have level 10 lightened hair and ran out of my clear coconut oil so grabbed the avocado oil from the pantry when I wanted to pre-poo oil it this morning. The avocado oil is kind of dark (like brownish green). After oiling for about an hour I noticed my hair looked… darker? Like more of a neutral sandy blonde vs the icy platinum I had earlier.
Am I hallucinating or did the oil stain my hair? Is it something you can fix with clarifying shampoo or even color remover? I’ve looked online but found very scant information on this-and certainly nothing about how to fix it!
Thanks y’all!