Snorting imitrex effects

First I Previous
Chapter 4
The days and weeks that followed were a whirlwind of activity. There was so much to learn; history, both Earth’s future, and the war against the Satura, science and modern technology, much of which Mike struggled to grasp, as well as more mundane tasks like requesting information from the “computer”, and creating items with something called a “replicator”. He went to bed exhausted, his mind bursting with new knowledge, while his nights were restless, filled with nightmares of the past and future. Both Vargas and Amélie were patient with him, but there was an undercurrent of urgency impossible to ignore. He recognized its source all too well.
They were worried an attack was coming and were desperately trying to prepare him for when it did, but it was also obvious they feared it would happen before he was ready. He buckled down, pushing himself even harder, but they all knew the clock was ticking.
Three weeks after his arrival, a blaring alarm roused him from his fitful slumber, sending him staggering towards its source. The others were already there, huddled over the computer’s display, with worried expressions evident on their faces.
“What’s going on?” he asked, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
“Temporal incursion,” Vargas informed him, “attempting to trace its source now.”
He glanced over at Amélie. “The enemy?”
“Oui,” she nodded, her eyes never leaving the screen.
The long hours of instruction allowed him to follow the highlights, if not the details. Through the commander’s efforts, he finally pinpointed the location of the enemy’s attack. “May 14th, 1840,” he said at last, “in London, England.”
“What’s happening in London?” Delany asked in confusion.
“I don’t know yet,” he said, irritated. “I’m still trying to trace its effects. There’s a lot of interference going on here.” A sharp intake of breath betrayed Amélie’s distress at the news.
“I take it that’s not a good sign,” Mike said quietly.
“No, it is not,” she agreed. “Interference is caused by changes to the timeline. The more interference, the greater the change. Our only hope, then, is to trace the distortion to its source. If we can isolate where the timeline first diverges, we may be able to prevent it.”
“And if we can’t?”
Amélie shuddered. “I do not know,” she whispered.
The pair watched in earnest while Vargas worked to clear up the data. As the information finally came into focus, he winced and looked away. “Fuck,” he swore under his breath.
“What?” Mike demanded.
“Queen Victoria,” he grimaced. “Both she and Prince Albert were assassinated before they produced an heir. No wonder the temporal plot is such a fucking disaster.” He looked closer, reading the details as they emerged from the computer. “With their deaths, next in line for the throne was Ernest Augustus, King of Hannover.” He shook his head, turning to face them both. “This is very disturbing news.”
“Why?” Delany asked him. “I mean, I know she was important and all, but England’s had lots of kings. Why does this make such a big difference?”
“Half of Europe’s royal families are descended from Victoria and Albert, or married into their family!” he exclaimed. “The Romanovs in Russia, the Kaiser in Germany, the kings and queens of Spain, Denmark, Norway, Greece, and Sweden? The entire map of Europe would be irrevocably altered, and that’s not even the worst of it.”
“Mon Dieu,” Amélie said in horror. “A German king, sitting upon the English throne.”
Vargas nodded in agreement. “Imagine how the First and Second World Wars would have played out, with Great Britain aligned with Germany, instead of the Allies. Imagine if Churchill couldn't rally the British people, and the American forces couldn't be based in England prior to the invasion. How would history have unfolded then, Sergeant?”
His mind whirled at the grim reality they just laid out for him. “The fascists would control all of Europe,” he said in shock.
“Not just Europe,” Vargas disagreed. “Let’s not forget the Japanese. Without the British and Dutch interfering with their plans, they would have free rein in Asia.”
“Wait a second,” Mike argued, holding up his hands, “you’re forgetting about America.”
“No, I'm not,” he said quietly. “Before Pearl Harbor, America was staunchly isolationist. Hell, I doubt I need to tell you that,” he snorted. “After all, you saw it with your own two eyes.”
“Yeah,” Mike said quietly. “I mean, there were a few folks that wanted to get involved, like the ones who went north to Canada to join up.”
“Yes… let’s not forget about Canada,” the commander said darkly. “A nation that shares our longest border, allied with a fascist England. America would be surrounded, isolated… and alone. How long do you think we could survive against the entire world?”
He couldn’t imagine a worse future. “We have to stop this,” he said fervently. “Tell me there’s a way we can prevent all that from happening.”
“There is,” he said with determination. “You and Amélie have to go back to 1840, and prevent the assassination.”
“Me?” Mike shook his head. “You should go, not me. You have a lot more experience than I do. I still don’t understand any of this shit!”
“I can’t go,” the commander argued. “That’s right at the edge of my Temporal Limit. But you’ll have Amélie to guide you… after all, this is her era we’re talking about. She knows it better than anyone. The replicator will provide you with period clothing, weapons, whatever you need.” He put a hand on Mike’s shoulder. “You can do this. I have faith in you.”
It wasn’t as if he hadn’t been on more dangerous missions before. “All right,” he said at last, “but how do we pinpoint the assassin? If we’re forced to wait until he commits, that could be too late.”
“If it were one of the Satura in disguise, we could easily track them,” Vargas explained, “but they prefer to use cutouts and cat’s paws. Our assassin is most likely someone they bribed or radicalized against the monarchy, which makes our job that much harder. However, I think I have something that will help you.” He smiled and pointed them toward the replicator. “Come on… time to get you both geared up.”
“... there,” Vargas said at last, “I think that should just about do it.” He gave Delany a final once-over. “It looks good on you,” he said in approval.
Mike turned and stared dubiously at his reflection in the mirror. He looked like an escapee from a Dickens novel. It wasn’t too bad. The trousers and jacket may have had an odd cut to them, from his perspective, but they were manageable. The shirt collar, on the other hand…
"Non,” Amélie chastised, swatting him with her handheld fan, “leave it alone. Tugging at the collar like that will brand you an imposter.” She wore a long printed dress, with ruffles and petticoats, like one of the sisters from “Little Women”.
“It itches,” he complained, pulling at it once more.
The Frenchwoman glared at him. “Perhaps you would prefer wearing my corset?” she snapped.
Delany swallowed. “Forget I said anything.”
“Here,” the commander continued, as he handed over the rest of their gear. “A Colt Paterson revolver, cut down to make it easier to conceal.” Mike took the weapon and tucked it inside his coat. “Don’t get caught with that,” he cautioned, “with the shortened barrel and pared-down grips, you’ll look like an assassin yourself.”
“Understood,” Mike nodded.
Vargas passed‌ over a pair of tiny derringers to Amélie. “I’ll let you decide where you want to conceal them,” he said with a shrug. She gave him an old-fashioned look as she tucked them away. “A dagger for each of you,” he continued, giving them a pair of blades, before opening up a small case. “These, hopefully, will help you spot your target,” he explained, as he gave Mike a pair of spectacles, before gifting his companion with a jeweled lorgnette. “There’s a tiny stud on the frame, next to the right lens,” he explained. “Press that, and you’ll have infrared vision. Press it again, and they’ll function as night goggles. Someone planning to kill the queen will probably have an elevated body temperature from sweating. It might just give you the advantage you need.”
He fiddled with the glasses, testing the various modes, before nodding in approval. “Could have used these at Normandy,” he said, mostly to himself.
Finally, he gave Delany a top hat and cane, while Amélie received a fur muff made with mink, or at least a reasonable facsimile. “Remember, you’re high society types, so act the part. That should get you close to the queen, without arousing suspicion.” he gave them a final once-over. “All right. Your pocket watch will tell you when you must return, and will act as a beacon when it’s time to retrieve you. Any questions?”
They both shook their heads. “Then step onto the platform, and Godspeed.” The pair stepped onto the raised dais as she took his hand in hers. “Good luck, both of you,” Vargas told them, as he activated the controls.
Once again Mike felt himself being yanked away, as the gray featureless compartment vanished from sight.
First I Previous

”Stop.”
I really needed the bathroom.
For fifty painstaking minutes, I had been staring at the clock on the wall, willing it to go faster, uncomfortably shifting side to side in my seat so much that I was starting to get weird looks.
2:52pm.
Eight minutes, I thought dizzily, squeezing my legs together.
Which was just two chunks of four minutes.
Four chunks of two minutes.
The pain started like normal stomach pain, the kind I could deal with.
I swallowed two Tylenol with lukewarm soda.
But this was different.
This kind of pain was contorting and twisting my gut so much, I had to keep leaning onto my left buttock for relief.
I must have done it so many times, I caught the attention of the guy sitting next to me. Roman Hemlock who was half asleep, dark blonde curls hanging in half lidded eyes, his chin leaning on his fist. He shot me a look. I couldn't tell if it was Are you okay? or Can you stop moving around so much?
From the single crease in his brow, the slight curl in his lip, I guessed the latter.
It's not like Roman was helping.
For half the class, he'd been tapping his foot on the floor, then his chair leg, and to complete the orchestra, his fingers joined in, tap, tap, tapping on the edge of his desk. I didn't know if it was a bored thing, an ADHD thing, or he was trying to keep himself awake. It was easy to tolerate without the pain, but with it, the boy’s incessant tapping was more akin to a dentist drill splitting my skull open. I already felt nauseous, the sad looking chicken nuggets I forced down at lunch making an unwelcome appearance at the back of my throat.
It was too fucking hot, the stuffy summer air glueing my hair to the back of my neck. The material of my shirt was making me cringe, sticky against my skin.
Tipping my head back, the lights were too bright. Every sound was too loud. Imogen Prairie, who was sitting behind me chewing her gum a little too loudly.
Kaz Samuels scribbling notes like a maniac.
I could hear every stroke of his pencil, every time he paused, looked up at the presentation, and continued writing.
When I leaned forward in my chair, I could smell exactly what Isabella Trinity had eaten for lunch, the stink hanging in the air.
It became a case of sucking in my stomach and taking slow, deep breaths.
I’d never had these kinds of stomach cramps before. But it didn't take me long to figure out what they were.
I was yet to start my period at the grand age of sixteen, which meant this was it.
After countless sessions with the doctor, and feeling like a social outcast among my group of friends who started their periods in middle school, it had finally happened. The cramps in my gut that felt like my torso was being ripped apart, was in fact me entering womanhood. When my breath started to quicken, my mouth watering, I raised my hand, biting my lip against a cry.
Fuck.
Something lurched in my gut, a wave of nausea crashing into me.
I was going to throw up.
“Mr Brighton.”
Roman spoke up before me, waving his arm. “Can I use the bathroom?”
The teacher’s answer was always the same. Which was why I had been crossing my legs for the entirety of the class, unable to focus on anything but my gut trying to twist itself inside out.
Mr Brighton leaned against the wall, his eyes glued to the PowerPoint awash in our faces. We had been staring at the exact same slide for maybe five minutes now, and our physics teacher was yet to speak, his gaze somewhere else.
Mr Brighton was my Dad’s age, a greying man in his early fifties who always wore the exact same suit with the exact same stain on his collar.
The man was about as interesting as watching paint dry.
Normally, I would drift off myself, lulled into slumber by the low drone of his voice.
But the pain ripping me apart was keeping me awake.
“Mr Brighton.” Roman said, louder. His voice snapped me out of it. “Can I use the bathroom?” He paused, exaggerating a loud sigh. ”Please?”
The teacher straightened up, folding his arms.
“Mr Hemlock, you know the rules. Why didn't you go before class?”
“I didn't need to go an hour ago, did I?”
“You will no longer need to go to the bathroom, Mr Hemlock.”
Roman made a snorting noise.
“What?”
The low murmur of my classmates collapsed into white noise.
Glancing at the clock, I was anticipating the school bell.
The sickness swimming in the pit of my belly was reaching dangerous territory.
2:52pm.
Something ice cold trickled down my spine.
It was 2:52 the last time I checked, and five minutes had surely passed.
This time, I waited a whole minute and counted the seconds under my breath. The clock still didn't move. The ticker was frozen halfway between three and four.
Slowly, the same realisation began to hit the twelve of us. The clock on the wall had stopped. But it wasn't the only thing that had stopped. The cool breeze drifting through the window was gone.
The sound of birds outside, and the cheer squad practising their routine.
Everything had stopped. Trying to ignore a sickly slither of panic twisting its way through me, I checked my phone under my desk. There was a text from my Mom lighting up my notifications. When I tried to swipe it open, nothing happened. My lock screen was frozen, stuck at 2:52pm.
With my hands growing clammy around my phone, I stared at the time, willing it to move, to flick to 2:53.
But nothing happened, the numbers stubbornly staying at 2:52.
“What the fuck are you talking about?” Roman’s voice brought me back to reality, though I was sure I'd dropped my phone. I heard it hit the floor with a sickening crack. Whatever he was saying, though, faded into dull murmur, when I turned toward the window.
Something was wrong outside.
The cheer squad were nowhere to be seen.
Being on the top floor gave us a front row seat to their practice sessions.
I stopped watching when their flyer did a death defying flip, almost breaking her neck. 2:52pm. I couldn't see the cheer squad. But I did see Jessie Carson mid-sprint across the track field, strawberry blonde curls suspended in a halo around her.
I could see exactly where she had frozen in place, her left foot hovering off of the ground, her right foot driving momentum. It wasn't just Jessie who had stopped. The dirt she was kicking into a cloud behind her was hovering, caught in mid-air.
Studying the faces around me, my mouth went dry.
Roman Hemlock, mid-argument with our physics teacher.
His eyes were wide, lips curved into what would have been a yell.
Fuck.
Was I the only one?
But then Roman blinked, and I realized the boy wasn't frozen. He was trying to think of a comeback. “What do you mean I won't need the bathroom anymore?”
“Mr Hemlock, please lower your voice.”
“Why? You can't dictate to me when I do and don't need the bathroom, dude!”
Moving onto the rest of my class, the others were still moving.
It was too quiet, though.
Yes, Roman was still tapping his foot.
Imogen was still chewing her gum.
Kaz was still scribbling notes like a psychopath.
But they were the only noise I could hear.
I wasn't the only one confused. The classroom had pricked with a sense of urgency. Kids were checking their phones, their gazes glued to the clock. Even Roman, who was still arguing, was starting to notice. I watched his gaze lazily roll to the clock on the wall.
I pretended not to see his cheeks visibly paling.
We had all come to the exact same terrifying conclusion.
2:52pm.
Time had come to a halt, and somehow, we had not.
“Is that clock broken?” Roman interrupted, leaning forward in his chair.
Kaz twisted around, settling the boy with an eye-roll.
“Check your phone, dumbass.”
“I broke my phone.”
Imogen threw her iPhone at him, narrowly missing hitting him in the face.
“Everything is frozen,” She said, her voice shuddering. “It's not just the clock.”
I waited for Roman’s response. For once, though, he was speechless.
“Well done, Imogen. That is correct.” Mr Brighton spoke up, tearing a piece of paper from a workbook and striding over to the door, glueing it over the glass window. When we started to protest, some of us were shouting, while others bursting into tears, he calmly took out his key and locked us in.
I should have been surprised that our teacher had spontaneously decided to take his entire class hostage, but the rumor mill had been churning.
According to Becca Jason, the guy’s wife divorced him and took his kids.
I could feel myself sinking into my chair, phantom bugs filling my mouth.
So, this guy had nothing to lose.
Taking his place in front of his desk, the man settled us with a patient smile.
“From now on, you will stay inside this room.” He said. “In case you haven't noticed, time is currently frozen at fifty two minutes past two. The thirteen of us are tucked into the twenty first second, and will be, for the foreseeable future.”
I could tell the others wanted to argue, but we couldn't deny that time had stopped. Kaz was staring down at his frozen phone, Imogen hyperventilating behind me, Roman glaring at the clock, chewing on a pencil. We wanted it to be a prank, a joke, some kind of glitch in the matrix that would fix itself.
But then a whole minute passed by. Followed by another. Kaz threw his phone on the floor, hissing in frustration. Imogen let out a wet sounding sob.
Roman’s pencil split in his mouth, slipping from his fingers. We couldn't pretend it wasn't happening or call our teacher out on his BS, because it was everywhere around us. The sudden absence of outdoor ambience, birdsong, planes flying overhead, and traffic outside the school gates. Everyone and everything had stopped, and we were the only ones left.
This was a nightmare, surely.
My physics class were some of the most boring and pretentious people in the school, and somehow the world had been reduced to the twelve of us inside our classroom. We were scared, of course we were. But reality had stopped making sense, crashing and burning in a single second. We had no choice but to listen to our teacher. “Now, before you freak out, it may not feel like it, but the twelve of you have also stopped.”
Mr Brighton held out his own hand, and placed it on his heart.
He was right.
I was so busy trying to understand what was happening, I had failed to realize my period cramps were gone.
“Do me a favor, and press your hand over your heart.”
“You mean like, in a culty way?” Imogen whispered.
“Obviously.” Roman grumbled, halfway out of his seat. He was hesitant, though, in case our teacher was armed. It only took one glance from our teacher, and he slumped back into his chair. “This crazy fucker clearly wants to play mind games with us.”
“No, I'm just asking you to feel for your heart.”
I felt for mine, and there was nothing, my stomach twisting.
Roman stabbed his fingers into his neck, feeling for a pulse.
He tried his wrist.
Then his heart.
Nothing.
“The twelve of you are currently in a state of stasis,” the teacher explained to us, “You are not alive, nor are you dead. Your bodily functions are also on pause, such as your heartbeat and your pulse. In this state there will be no need for food and water, or going to the bathroom.” His gaze found a ghastly looking Roman, who looked like he was going to faint. “Your minds, however, as you can see, are working as usual.”
“But why?” Imogen demanded in a shriek.
Mr Brighton’s lip curled. “I would rather not answer that question.”
“Because you're lonely.” Roman spoke up. He swung back on his chair, narrowed eyes glued to the teacher.
“Your wife and kids left you, so you're asserting power over a group of sixteen year olds. Which is kinda fucking pathetic.”
Mr Brighton’s expression darkened, and something slimy crept up my throat.
The worst thing any of us could do was threaten him. He had taken kidnapping to a whole new level, and we were alone with this psychopath, trapped inside a second. I waited for the man to stride forward and attack the kid. But he didn't. Instead, the teacher leaned back on his desk. “Yes.” The man nodded.
“I suppose you could say I am.”
“But why us?!” Kaz hissed.
“Because you are children.” Mr Brighton responded casually.
He straightened up, taking slow, intimidating steps towards Roman’s desk. The rest of us leaned back. I tried to pull my desk with me, but it was glued to the floor. Frozen. Mr Brighton’s shoes went click-clack across the hardwood floor.
“You are right,” the man said in a murmur, “I am lonely. My wife and kids did leave me, and I have nobody left to control. I have nobody else to contort and use to my advantage.” Reaching Roman’s desk, he leaned in close until he was nose to nose with the kid.
“Congratulations, Mr Hemlock. You have just earned yourself detention.”
Roman stayed stubbornly still, but he was visibly afraid. I could see him very slowly backing away. Roman was all bark and no bite. He was a loud mouth, sure, but he was also the least confrontational person in the class.
“What?” He spluttered. “You trap us in a time loop or time trap, or whatever, and you still want to act like a teacher?”
“Stand up.” The teacher ordered.
“What if I don't?”
Mr Brighton’s expression didn't waver. “You said it yourself. I can and have trapped you inside a single second. What else do you think I'm capable of?”
Roman stood, kicking his chair out of the way.
“What are you planning on doing to me, old man?”
The teacher maintained his smile. “Stand up straight, and close your mouth.”
To my confusion, Roman Hemlock did all the above.
He straightened up, and closed his mouth.
“Do not fight me.” The teacher said calmly, “Do as you are told, and follow me.”
The boy did exactly as instructed.
His jaw slackened, that rebellious light in his eyes fizzling out.
I think that's when we all collectively agreed that going against this teacher and trying to escape was mental suicide.
“I will use Mr Hemlock as an example to all of you,” Mr Brighton said, turning to the rest of us. “If you break the rules or are derogatory in any way, you will be given detention.”
He grabbed the boy’s shoulders, forcing him to walk towards the supply closet. Roman moved like a robot, slightly off balance, his gaze glued to thin air, like he was tracking invisible butterflies.
"Your time in detention will depend on the severity of your rule-break.” He opened the door, gently pushing Roman inside, and following suit. When the door closed behind them, there was a pause, and I remembered how to breathe.
Kaz Samuels slowly got up from his desk, inching towards the closet.
“This guy is a certified nut.” He announced.
He turned towards us. “Whatever he's doing to Hemlock, we’re probably next.”
“He stopped time.” I spoke up, my own voice barely a croak. “He’s capable of anything.”
“But how did he stop time?” Kaz whistled, tipping his head back. The boy was slow, his fingers grasping each desk as he slid down the aisle. “He said he was lonely, right? But why take it out on us? What did we do to him?”
“Check his desk for a weapon!” Imogen whisper-shrieked.
Kaz nodded, striding over to the man's desk, his hands moving frantically, shoving paper on the floor. He took an uncertain seat on the man's chair. “There's nothing here,” he murmured, lifting stained coffee mugs and ancient textbooks. “It's just…test papers.” Kaz ducked from view, trying the drawers.
“He's a fan of Pokémon,” he said, “There's a tonne of Pokémon cards,” Kaz straightened up, running a hand through his hair. “No sign of a weapon, though.”
He picked up a ruler, waving it around. “This could work. If we plunge it in his eye.”
“Try his laptop!” Imogen was halfway out of her seat.
Kaz did, slamming the keys. “It's locked.”
“Look harder!” Ren Clarke threw a pencil at him.
“I am!”
After a minute of searching, Kaz grabbed a single piece of paper.
He held it up, and I squinted.
It was a list of our names, with several of them highlighted.
“Fuck.” Kaz dropped the list, his expression crumpling. The stubborn bravado facade transforming him into our sort of leader dissipated, hollowing him out into exactly what he was. Just a scared kid. Kaz’s hands were shaking.
“Mr Brighton’s got a hit list.” He whispered. “He's going to kill us.”
“How do you know that?” I found myself asking.
Kaz slowly dropped into a crouch, picking up the paper and holding it up.
“Look.” He pointed to a capitalised name at the top of the list highlighted in red.
ROMAN HEMLOCK.
There were six names highlighted in red, including mine.
CRISTA ADAMS.
As if on cue, Roman’s cry rang out from the supply closet, suddenly, freezing us all in place. Kaz jumped up, adapting the expression of a deer caught in headlights, eyes wide, almost unseeing.
He fell over himself to tidy up the desk, putting everything back where he had found it, sliding the list between a pile of test papers. Kaz took slow, stumbled steps back, his feverish gaze glued to the closet, before turning and making a break for it and diving into his seat.
“Brighton’s got a hit liiiist,” Kaz said, in a mocking sing-song, “And we’re all on it.”
What followed was deathly silence. I think we were expecting Roman to cry out again. But when he didn't, the class started to stir. Some kids started praying to a god they didn't believe in, while others were in varying states of denial, trying to call their parents with dead phones.
I wasn't sure what parts of me had stopped, but I was still alive, still felt like my lungs were deprived of oxygen, my chest aching. I'm not sure how long I sat there, trying to find my voice, a shriek trying and failing to rip through my mouth. Being kidnapped and held hostage is one thing, but being imprisoned inside a single, never ending second, was an existential hell worse than death. Slowly, I pressed my palm over my heart once again. Then I breathed into my cupped hands.
I was expecting it, but no longer being able to feel my own heartbeat and breath, was fear I didn't think was possible. The kind that glued me to my seat, hollowing me out completely until I was nothing, an empty shell with no heartbeat, no breath, no thoughts, except denial, followed by acceptance.
And finally, regret.
I regretted not hugging my mother goodbye before I left for school.
I regretted acting like a spoiled brat when my parents refused to drive me halfway across the country so I could attend Coachella.
I regretted stepping inside Mr Brighton’s fourth period physics class.
Mr Brighton reappeared, slamming the door behind him and locking the boy inside. Part of me flinched, while the rest of me remembered not to move a muscle. I was barely aware of time passing. Or it wasn't. Time had stopped, so now long had I been sitting there?
I could no longer measure the passage of time with hunger or thirst, and my body felt the same. I wasn't stiff or tired or achy. Looking out of the window, the sky was the exact same crystal blue, every cloud in the exact same place.
Jessie Carson was still frozen mid-run, strands of dark red hair caught around her.
“What's wrong with you guys?” Mr Brighton chuckled, and I twisted back to the front, a shiver writhing down my spine. “Why don't you give me a smile?”
The teacher returned to his desk, and I was already subconsciously sitting up straight in my seat, forcing my lips into a jaw-breaking grin, following Brighton’s instructions. In the corner of my eye, Imogen was sitting very still, forcing an award-winning cheesy smile, while Kaz grinned through gritted teeth.
“Mr Hemlock just earned himself two weeks inside the supply closet.” he said casually, perching himself on the edge of his desk. The man studied each of us, taking his time to rip every shred of us apart.
Mind, body, and soul.
I struggled to maintain my stupid smile, shoving my shaking hands in my lap.
“Would anyone like to join him, or are you going to follow the rules?”
The rest of us stayed silent. I don't think any of us breathed.
Our teacher nodded to Kaz, inclining his head.
“Samuels. Are you all right?”
Kaz’s smile faltered slightly. He shifted in his chair. I could see sweat trickling down his right temple. “Uh, yeah.” He swiped at his forehead, like he couldn't believe he was sweating. “Yeah, I'm good.”
The teacher’s eyes narrowed. He moved toward his desk, and we all held our breaths. Mr Brighton seemed to study his hit-list, lips curving into a frown.
His gaze flicked to the boy, and then the paper.
He knew, I thought dizzily.
Mr Brighton knew the kid had been rummaging through his desk. But this was all about control. The teacher was using fear to control us, to manipulate our thoughts without having to get physical. He could have called out the boy right then, but Brighton was settling with mental torture instead. He just wanted to make my classmate squirm.
Without a word, the man folded up the piece of paper and slipped it into his pocket. “Mr Samuels, you are sweating,” our physics teacher said, mocking a frown. “Are you feeling okay?”
Kaz hesitated, tapping his shoe in a rhythm.
Being one of the smartest kids in the room definitely gave him an advantage.
I could already see the cogs turning behind half lidded eyes. Kaz was weighing each scenario, sorting them into positives and negatives.
The positives of answering would mean he was one step towards being in the clear, but there were two negatives.
Brighton would question him if he had left his seat, and then demand how his hit-list had magically moved across the desk.
Talking back was surely a rule-break, as well as outright lying.
Opening his mouth would get him in trouble, either way, and Kaz knew that.
So, he just nodded, forcing an even bigger smile.
Brighton’s lips pricked, his gaze straying on Kaz. “Good!” He cleared his throat, turning to the class. Kaz slumped in his seat with a sharp breath, resting his head in his arms. If Mr Brighton noticed, he didn't say anything. “Ignore the sweating. It should stop, along with hunger and thirst.”
Our teacher seemed to be able to manipulate everything in his vicinity.
Time.
Minds.
And slowly… contorting us into his own.
In the single second we were trapped inside, I felt days go by in a dizzying whirlwind that was like being permanently high. When I stood up, I felt like I was floating.
When I sat down, hours could go by, even days, and I wouldn't even feel them. I did try and count the days, initially, scribbling them on a scrap piece of paper, but somewhere around the thirteenth or fourteenth day, I lost count. The world around us never changed, in permanent stasis, and maybe that was sending us a little crazy.
After a while of being stuck at our desks, Mr Brighton allowed us to wander the classroom, as long as we stayed away from the door. I lay on the floor for days, counting ceiling tiles.
Sometimes, Imogen would join me.
I couldn't sleep, but I could pretend to sleep, imagining a world that was back to normal. I didn't feel hungry, but my brain did like to remind me of food at the weirdest times. I was aware of weeks passing us by, and then months.
I never grew hungry or tired, and my bodily functions were none existent.
I couldn't remember what pain felt like, or the urge to go to the bathroom. Even the concept of eating and drinking became foreign to me. Putting something in your mouth and chewing to sustain yourself?
That sounded odd.
The only thing that was changing was our slowly unravelling metal state.
I don't know how it started. Weekends and Tuesdays blended together. On one particular SaturTuesday, I was hanging upside down from my desk, watching Kaz and Imogen doodle on the whiteboard.
Kaz had a plan to escape, but after a while, his ‘plan’ to distract the teacher, had gone nowhere. After passing notes between us, the twelve of us had decided that we needed a weapon.
That was maybe a month ago. I wasn't sure what mind games our teacher was playing, but Kaz Samuels, who we were counting on to be our brains, was slowly falling under his spell. Their game had been going on for three days. The two of them were having a competition to see who could draw the craziest thing.
Mr Brighton was at his desk as usual, marking papers.
Imogen was drawing a weird looking ‘skateboard’ when the doors to the storage closet flew open.
Roman Hemlock appeared, and to my surprise, wasn't a hollow eyed shell.
He held up his hand in a wave, his lips forming a small smile.
“Yo.”
Roman’s reappearance was enough to snap us out of it. Kaz and Imogen stopped arguing, the rest of the class going silent. I sat up, blinking rapidly.
I was sure our collective consensus was that Roman Hemlock was dead.
Mr Brighton lifted his head and gave the boy a civil nod. “Mr Hemlock will be rejoining us,” he said, his gaze going back to marking papers. “Please make him feel comfortable. I'm sure he's very excited to be able to talk to you again.”
Instead of going to his desk, the boy immediately joined the others, snatching the marker off of a baffled looking Kaz, and drawing an overly artistic sketch of a penis. I wasn't sure what confused me more. The fact that Roman Hemlock had some serious artistic skills, or that he seemed suspiciously fine for someone who had been locked in the storage closet for two weeks with no social interaction.
With my last few lingering brain cells still clinging on, I studied the boy.
There were no signs of bruises or scratches.
His eyes seemed normal, not diluted or half lidded.
Unable to stop myself, I jumped off of my desk and joined the others, where Kaz was already interrogating the guy.
“WHAT–”
Imogen nudged him, and he lowered his voice, leaning against the wall. “What did he do to you?”
Roman shrugged, rolling his eyes. “Relax, dude. He didn't do anything to me.”
“Then what was that yell?” Imogen hissed.
The boy cocked his head. “Yell?”
“You yelled out,” Kaz folded his arms, narrowing his eyes. He was already suspecting one of us had been compromised– or worse, brainwashed into compliance. Kaz stepped closer, backing Roman into the desk. “You cried out when you first went in there,” he murmured, “So, what was that?”
Something in Roman’s eyes darkened. “Oh,” He said, his lip curling. “That.”
Kaz’s expression softened. He rested his hands on the boy’s shoulders. “Yeah,” He whispered. “What did he do to you?”
Imogen shoved Kaz out of the way, shooting the boy a glare.
“You don't have to tell us, you know.” She said in a small voice. “If it's too traumatising, or he did something you don't want to talk about–”
Roman cut her off with a laugh, and suddenly, all eyes were on him.
The remaining nine of us were eagerly awaiting an explanation.
“Are you fucking serious?”
When Kaz didn't respond, Roman gathered us in a kind of hustle, the four of us grouped together. I felt like I was on the football field. Still, though, if the guy’s goal was to look as suspicious as possible, he was doing a great job.
Roman studied each of us, one eyebrow cocked. When Mr Brighton glanced up from his work, Roman shot him a grin, lowering his voice to a hiss.
“You seriously think our fifty year old physics teacher has been abusing me in the storage closet?
“Then why did you cry out?” Kaz demanded. “Did he hit you?”
Roman stuck out his bottom lip. “I'm pretty sure he didn't hit me.”
“So, you cried out for no reason.”
“Why are you covering for him?” Imogen poked his forehead. “Are you lobotomised?”
Roman wafted her hand away. “Stop prodding me, and no, I'm 100% good.” He backed away from us, like we were observers, and he was the zoo attraction.
“I won't be, if you keep treating me like I'm senile.”
“Okay, fine,” Kaz sighed. “Just answer one.”
“Shoot.”
“When you first went in there, you made an unmistakable sound of distress–”
“Not this again,” Roman groaned. “Of course I yelled! I was shoved into a pitch black storage closet on my own! What, did you expect me to stay silent?”
Kaz didn't look convinced, Imogen nervously sucking her teeth.
The boy leaned back, resting his head against the wall. His eyes flickered shut.
“Stop looking at me like that, there's nothing to tell you,” he murmured, “Brighton didn't do shit to me. I was just freaked out.” Prying one eye open, he fixed us with a glare. “I am so sorry for reacting like a human. Next time, I'll make sure to attack him and pin him to the ground.”
It's not like we believed him. I don't think Roman believed himself.
Something significant had changed in him. He was no longer argumentative, like half of his personality had been torn away. Roman set a precedent. Because once he was following instructions and walking around with a dazed smile, others began to follow. I can't remember how much time had passed since I thought about escaping.
Days and weeks and months had collapsed into fleeting seconds I only noticed when I wasn't playing games.
I wasn't aware of my own lack of sanity until I found myself, on a random SaturWednesday. I was laughing, gathered with the others on the floor, around a Monopoly board. The game had been going on for almost a week.
Reality hit me when I was laughing so hard I tipped back.
I can't remember why I was laughing. I think Imogen told a bad joke.
“Hand it over.” Roman, who was the King of Monopoly, held out his hand, demanding my last 250 bucks. I remember noticing his smile, my foggy brain trying to find hints that he was in some kind of trance, or being controlled by Brighton. But no. His smile was real.
Genuine.
To my shock and confusion, so was mine.
I wasn't in a trance or any type of mind manipulation. I was completely conscious.
Was this… Stockholm syndrome? I thought dizzily.
Was I enjoying this?
My thoughts were like cotton candy, disconnected and wrong, and they barely felt like my own. My gaze found Imogen and Kaz, the two of them sitting shoulder to shoulder, enveloped in the game.
They looked exactly the same, their hair, clothes, everything about them staying stagnant. It was them themselves who had drastically changed. I had never seen them look so carefree. Imogen was a hotheaded cheerleader, and Kaz was the smart kid who gave himself nosebleeds from overworking himself. But now, they were laughing, nudging each other, caught up in an inside joke. Blinking slowly, my gaze strayed on them.
Sure, it could be manipulation. It could be brainwashing. But it could also be real.
Kaz caught my eye, raising a brow.
“You good, Christa?”
Shaking my head, I nodded.
Again, my smile felt real. Like I was having fun.
“Good. It's your turn.”
I picked up the dice, throwing them across the board.
Two sixes.
“I can already see her landing on one of my hotels.” Roman murmured. He sat up, resting his chin on his knees. “As the clear winner, I have a proposition.”
Ignoring him, I moved my piece– immediately landing on Park Place.
“I'll give you 500,” Roman announced, “If you give up New York avenue.”
“That's all I've got!”
Imogen nudged me. “Don't do it. If you give him New York Avenue, he only needs one more.”
“One thousand.” Roman waved the notes in my face.
“My final offer.”
When I reached for the cash, he held it back.
“New York Avenue, he said, with a grin.
“And your pride.”
Reluctantly, I handed my only property over.
Kaz threw the dice and moved his piece, and I half remembered we had an escape plan. “Community chest.” Kaz picked up a card. “Go straight to jail.”*
Roman spluttered. “That's karma,” he said, “For stealing from the bank.”
“You were stealing too!”
We had a plan.
We had…. a plan.
After discussing it in detail, Imogen and I were going to try and get onto Brighton’s laptop. It wasn't a perfect way to escape, but it was coherent.
So, what happened?
We were going to get out, so what… what was this?
Kaz’s earlier words hit me from months ago.
“Mr Brighton *is the thing keeping us here,”* he explained. “If we kill him, I'm like, 98% sure we’ll go back to normal.”
“Okay, and what if he dies and we’re *stuck?”* Imogen whisper-shrieked.
“I said 98% for a reason. Yes, there's a small chance his power will die with him. But there's a bigger chance that its effects will die when he does.”
Ren nodded slowly. “Right, and where exactly did you learn this information?”
“You'll feel a lot better if I don't answer that.”
“Okay.” Ren gritted his teeth. “So, we just need to find a weapon, right?”
“And don't tell Hemlock,” Kaz rolled his eyes. “I don't care what he says, that boy definitely had his mind fucked with. Hemlock is a liability. If we tell Roman, he tells Brighton, and we’re screwed.” Kaz nodded to me, then the others. “Keep your mouths shut.”
Presently, I wasn't sure the boy wanted to escape.
Slowly, I rolled my eyes over to Mr Brighton, who had joined us to play.
He was happily marking papers, taking part when he could.
It felt…right.
Not like we had been forced or manipulated, but more like he belonged. Part of me wanted to question why I felt like this, but I found that I didn't care. I didn't care that we were essentially dead, in a never ending stasis and stuck inside fifty two minutes past two. I stopped thinking about the outside world a long time ago.
I couldn't even remember my Mom’s face.
I made my decision, dazedly watching Imogen throw a chance card at Roman.
He flung one back, threatening to tip the board.
I wanted to stay.
In the corner of my eye, however, someone was still awake.
Ren, who had been sitting next to me, kept moving, further and further away. I didn't notice until he was inching towards our teacher, a box cutter clenched between his fist. There must have been a point when we found a box cutter, when we made it our weapon of choice.
But somewhere along the way, I think we just… lost the longing to want to escape.
I didn't see the exact moment the boy stabbed the blade into the man's neck, plunging it through his flesh, but I did feel a sudden jolt, like time itself was starting to falter and tremble.
Mr Brighton dropped to the ground, and I found my gaze flashing to the frozen clock.
Which was moving, suddenly.
Slowly creeping towards 2:53pm.
Something sticky ran underneath me, warm and wet.
Blood.
Blood that was running.
Roman’s half lidded eyes found mine, and he blinked, dropping the dice.
Like he'd been asleep for a long time.
2:53pm.
We were free.
The cool spring breeze grazing my cheeks was back. I could feel my own heartbeat, sticky sweat on my forehead.
And outside, Jessie Carson let out a gut-churning scream.
For a disorienting moment, I don't think any of us believed we were free.
Roman twisted around, his gaze on the doorway.
The piece of paper the teacher had stuck to the glass slipped away.
But Roman’s gaze was glued to the door, his cheeks paling.
His lips parted into a silent cry.
Following his eyes, I glimpsed a shadow.
A shadow that was frozen at 2:52pm.
2:53pm.
“Fuck.” Roman whispered, stumbling to his feet.
He turned to the rest of us, his eyes wild.
“Get DOWN!”
When the thing crashed through the door, our classroom exploding around us, chairs splintering against the walls, I was already dropping to my knees, crawling under a desk. It took me a moment to understand I was already kneeling in what was left of Imogen.
Her body had been hollowed out, singed straight through.
I was crawling through pieces of her flesh, mounds of her bisected brain.
Keeping my hand over my mouth, I watched this… thing.
A bulbous black monster, chewing its way through my classmates. Blood splattered the walls, raining from the ceiling, and that same striking pain ripped through my gut, agonising enough to force a cry through my lips.
My frantic gaze found the clock.
2:54pm.
Lurching forwards, I heaved up what was left of my lunch, agonising pain wrenching my stomach back and forth.
I jumped when another body joined me, thankfully alive, squeezing under the desk.
Roman, his face slick and dripping scarlet.
When the thing was gone, neither of us moved.
3:05pm.
“What are those things?” I managed to get out.
“I don't know,” Roman whimpered, covering his mouth. “But they're everywhere.”
3:10pm.
Another thing found our classroom. This time I saw it up close, a giant, bulbous black thing with an eye stalk. It knew we were there, peeking under the desk we were hiding. But it didn't kill us.
The thing left the room, stopping to gorge on half of Ren’s torso.
Roman shot me a questioning look, but I could only be relieved.
3:15pm.
Roman threw up black slime all over me.
He caught my eye, swiping his mouth. “Well, that can't be good.”
The pain in my gut was getting harder to deal with.
3:20pm.
“Did you have chicken nuggets for lunch?” Roman murmured. He got a little too close, his breath on my neck.
I had to suck in my stomach to stop the pain.
I was going hot and cold, sweat dripping down the back of my neck.
“Why?” I hissed back, taking deep, shaky breaths.
“I dunno,” Roman murmured, “I can smell them on your breath.”
His teeth grazed my flesh, sending shivers down my spine.
“Weird… huh.”
3:30pm.
Roman nudged me.
“Fuck.” He hissed. “Is that Kaz?”
Following his gaze, I found the remnants of Kaz under a crushed desk starting to… convulse.
“Was he bitten?” I whispered.
Roman’s eyes were a strange color. “Maybe.”
3:35pm
“Mr Brighton.” I was on my knees, sobbing, shaking my physics teacher.
“Mr Brighton! Take us back!”
I squeezed his ice cold hand for dear life.
“Say, ‘stop’,” I whispered “Please!”
3:40pm.
The thing that found me didn't attack me. It sat there, head cocked, watching me roll around on the floor, the pain writhing through me. I watched its transformation in short bursts, consciousness swimming in and out.
When I found light again, the thing was sitting cross legged next to me, chewing on a human arm. Maybe I was hallucinating. I watched it for a long time, trying to figure out why it was wearing strips of Roman’s white shirt.
3:52pm.
No longer in the school, I was in the back of an ambulance, a lady screaming in my face. I could see the time on her watch. She told me I was going to be okay, and I think I was. But I wasn't sure how to tell her she smelled good.
Like chicken.
It's been three months since my teacher froze time.
Mr Brighton wasn't imprisoning us. He was protecting us.
I'm still alive, but I have to take regular shots. I think they're just in case I was infected by those things.
I asked Mom if the incident has been on the news, but there's no coverage.
According to the people in white who treated me, everything has been covered up. According to the Mayor, ten kids died in a gas leak.
No mention of the monstrous things hunting us down…
Our town is just a blip on the map. You can't find us. I wish you could, though.
I need help.
I'm terrified of myself.
I’m not going to tell Mom she smells like chicken, because she'll freak out.
Last night, someone, or something knocked on my window.
When I turned on the light, a single, bulging eye was staring at me through the glass.
I still don't know why it was crying.

Once again, its Friday. I hope everyone had a wonderful week. And even if it didn't, well... Sit down, relax, and enjoy a new chapter.
[Previous] [First] [Next] [RoyalRoad] [Discord] —----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Felix sat quietly, only letting a smile show. Beside him, Eri was laughing at some joke that Lorem told. All the while, they held hands.
Behind the two were Zira and Kyrith, both laying down and watching with different expressions. Kyrith was soaking up the atmosphere, letting a deep and joyful rumble escape. Zira, on the other hand, was solely focused on her partner…
Felix, are you okay? she asked.
I’m just worried about Solanna… Perhaps I should go speak with her? That wasn’t the entire truth. Yes, he was worried about the elf, but there was more, and Zira knew that.
Felix…
He had to hold back a sigh, Okay, fine… It’s not like I can lie to you. I’m just– How should I put this? Worried about the future? I want to make sure nothing bad happens. He added quickly, To anyone.
After his moment of weakness earlier, Felix came to a decision. Yedril’s near-death experience had lit a fire under him. The entire ordeal proved that he wasn’t taking this seriously enough.
He could only blame himself.
Zira considered his words. You don’t have to do this yourself. You have me, Eri…and even Kyrith. We all could have done better. There is no reason to beat yourself up over this–
No, I’m mad at myself because I knew better. I knew I could ask for more help, to plan things out… From this moment onwards, I– We will do it right. He paused, as a new thought came to mind.
I think tomorrow I will show Eri the Sanctuary, after we have a proper meeting. He ended their conversation with that, though he could tell that Zira still had more to say…
A moment later, Solanna reappeared. Her expression was…mixed. To Felix, it looked like she figured something out but it wasn’t what she wanted or expected. Still, she looked in better spirits than when she left. The elven woman sat back down at her spot and began eating, the food no doubt cold by now.
He wasn’t the only one to notice. The others all turned and either watched her or simply gave her a nod. Nothing more was said or done.
Probably for the best, he thought.
As Solanna worked on her meal, Felix decided to give her time. He was going to make an announcement shortly and, depending on how the news was received, he wasn’t sure there would be time to eat…
Do you know how you are going to tell them? Zira asked, breaking their silence.
I think so, but you know me… I like to wing it, he answered with dejected sarcasm.
She didn’t immediately respond, but he could feel she wasn’t pleased by his answer. _You know, I don’t like seeing you like this… Also, what happened to asking for help? You have me, let me help you. _
This time, he did let out a sigh.
Eri gave him a curious look. “Everything alright?”
“Yeah, just having a discussion with Zira…” He tried to maintain his smile and hoped it worked.
She studied him for several moments and opened her mouth to speak. Thankfully, the sound of laughter distracted her and pulled her back into Lorem’s storytelling.
I know, Zira, but… What else can I say? That I will always be happy? To never let anything negative ever cross my mind?
No! But this self-deprecating humor, these thoughts of yours, it isn’t good for your health. You are hurting yourself! And by extension, me!
Felix felt himself wince at that. I’m sorry Zira.
She snorted, but he didn’t need to see her to know she was frustrated at him. Yet, even with all that, there was a very real feeling of concern for him.
It pained his heart to see her fret and worry over him like this. But it also made him appreciate Zira even more. She didn’t have to hatch for him, to imprint and bond to him. It could’ve been another, or none at all.
The bond could be weakened and broken… He reminded himself. The thought sent a chill down his spine. He never wanted to lose Zira, to lose the special bond they had between each other.
It can, but I won’t let it. And neither will you, she said. We may have our disagreements and fights. However, like I told you before, I never once regretted my decision.
Her reassurance made him smile, this one genuine. I know… And I will do all that I can to please you, your Majesty. He added the last bit in jest and to lighten the mood.
Another snort came out from behind him.
I see you are finally starting to understand, peasant! The great and mighty Zira shall spare you your life, for now at least. See now that I don’t come to regret it!
Long live the great and mighty Zira! he added before busting out laughing. That brought all the attention to him, but that was fine. Thank you, yet again… Oh, and I think I know what I will say.
Felix stood, meeting the eyes of everyone in turn. They were watching with a mixture of curiosity and excitement. No doubt they had some inkling of what this was about.
He cleared his throat.
“Two days. You all have two days before the eggs hatch– Well, I should say, roughly two days. I don’t know when they will exactly hatch… Anyway, from this moment until they hatch, you all are free to do as you like–”
Yedril and Lorem cheered with Noria and Solanna looking more thoughtful.
He waited for them to calm down. “However, things will change once they do. Your lives will be different, and you will have to reconcile that for yourself. Me, Eri, Kyrith, and Zira are here to help. But there are limits to what we can do.
“As I said, you may do as you like. But take this as personal advice: Reflect on what this will mean for you.
“You will no longer be alone in your mind. You will have to share thoughts and feelings with another, and at such an intimate level. You will not always agree or even get along with your partner. But the two of you must learn to live together, or else…”
He let his voice trail off for a brief moment.
“Your bond will break.”
***
The next day Felix was sitting back down in the hatchery. Directly behind him was Zira, to his left was Eri with Kyrith behind her. To his right was Watcher. The kobold had disappeared after the previous morning and had only now reappeared. He had yet to say a single word.
There was one final guest among them: Ithea. She stood above them, looking unconcerned. The fact that she was here at all was a little surprising to Felix, but he was glad that she joined them.
They had a lot to discuss…
Felix let out a sigh, staring up at the false sky above them. It showed the sun near its zenith without a cloud in sight. Sweat rolled down his brow, it was looking like they were entering the hottest part of the season.
“Do you mind telling me what this is all about?” Ithea asked, breaking the silence.
He brought his attention back to her. “You can sit, you know?”
“I’d rather stand… You didn’t answer my question; what do you want? I don’t have all day.”
Felix had to keep himself from rolling his eyes. Zira, on the other hand, had no problem letting her displeasure be known with a deep rumble.
“Right,” he cut in. They really didn’t have a lot of time for any arguments or fighting. “Mainly, I have questions regarding raising dragons. The moment the four eggs hatch, I want to get them all on a training schedule. I need you to tell me everything you know.”
He pulled out a journal and one of those magical pens to accentuate his point. “Me and Eri will both be taking notes.”
Ithea cocked an eye at him. “Hmm? A little late–”
Zira growled.
“–But I suppose it’s not entirely your fault… I should warn you though, there is a lot I don’t know. There’s too much variance between us dragons.”
Felix quickly glanced over to Eri, she was already writing things down. I suppose I should start as well. “That’s fine. Whatever you know is more than I do.”
He started jotting down notes as Ithea began. “Well, I suppose we shall start with the basics.” She took a deep breath, as if preparing for a long-winded lecture. It turned out to be exactly that.
“When a hatchling…hatches, it needs to be close to its parents– Or, I guess, its bonded partner. It’s important that they remain close by, at least for the first day or so. This is the time when the bond is at its weakest, it can easily be broken.
“Now, I know you are well aware of what a bond is. But, tell me, what do you think would happen to a fresh hatchling that loses its bond?”
Felix paused to consider her question. “I take it that something bad would happen. Would they die?” He certainly hoped he was wrong–
“If they are lucky. Breaking a bond is bad enough, one of the most painful things that can happen to us. But for a fresh hatchling? It will almost certainly drive them insane. It’s nearly impossible to come back from that. And even if they do, they would never form another bond.”
Felix felt a cold chill, but it wasn’t from him… Zira shifted uncomfortably behind him.
He made sure to underline that in his notes.
Ithea, surprisingly, waited for him and Eri to finish before she continued. “Moving on… The next important thing to know about our young, is that they must refrain from using their magic as much as possible. It will stunt their growth.
“Our bodies need mana to grow, especially during the first year. In fact, back…before we used to never let them leave our homes until after their first year. If they did, it was only to take them to a place that was denser in mana.”
Felix froze at that. Have… Have I stunted Zira’s growth? he asked himself.
Zira snorted, she was clearly listening in to his thoughts. Hardly, me and Kyrith are about the same age and size.
Before he could respond to her, Ithea beat him to it. “I bet I know what you are thinking, and the answer is probably not. She is about the size I was at her age. But take this as a warning, for both you and Eri:
“Those soon-to-be hatchlings cannot use their magic too often. It will have negative side effects as they grow.”
Felix felt himself calm down and made sure to add that to his notes. Still, I think we need to be careful… Maybe we should delay flying until–
No! As soon as I’m large enough, I will take you into the skies. Damn the consequences, Zira said, not letting him finish.
He said nothing and returned to his notes.
“Right… You two done with your conversation?” Ithea asked. She had obviously picked up on that he and Zira were talking with each other.
“Y-yeah, please continue.” He gestured towards her.
Ithea shook her head in annoyance. “Outside of mana, hatchlings need to eat…a lot. I don’t think you’ll have too many problems with that here. These kobolds are resourceful enough, and that chef one is talented.”
Watcher perked up at the compliment but still remained silent. However, it was Eri who asked the next question.
“Is there anything we should be aware of when it comes to different types? Like Zira and you are void dragons, you eat mana. Should we be concerned about other uniques?”
Ithea gave her an icy smile. “Uniques? Types? We used to just call them morphs… Zira and I might be uniquely void dragons. But we are hardly rare– Actually, do you even know what morph Kyrith is?”
Eri furrowed her brow in confusion. “I…” She turned around to look at Kyrith. No doubt they were talking with each other. A few moments later she faced Ithea again. “We’re…not sure.”
“Oh! Do you know what type I am?!” the ember-colored dragon asked, hopping onto his feet. For a moment Felix worried he would rush the dragon woman.
Ithea let out an amused hum. “But of course, I can taste your mana–”
“What am I then?!” Kyrith asked impatiently.
“You are a magma dragon.”
—---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- [Previous] [First] [Next] [RoyalRoad] [Discord]
Well, lots happened here... Where to even begin? Felix comes to terms that he can't do this alone. We learn more about dragons, including what Kyrith is. There's more that could be added, but I think those are the main points.
Anyway, I hope you enjoyed the chapter. And remember, I haven't forgotten anything ;)

I've been hearing people saying that Amy is an example of a character being "born evil" or "ontologically evil", because her being a sexual predator must mean that Carol was right.
Which is bizarre, because Worm and Ward both show that Amy was just a normal kid dealing with emotional abuse and fucked up dependency, before she leapt off the slippery slope.
So I decided to prove this with a collection of snippets from the Parahumans series showing that the entire point of Amy's character is that she was someone who was a normal child in the first place:
And yes, Carol was singling her out even pre-Worm.

• Infrared 19.9 (elementary school Amy being put down by Carol and basically threatened with a traumatic trigger event)

Eric retreated into the living room, plunking himself down into a chair, slumping down so his arms were up on the armrest, feet on the floor, and his upper body stretched along the seat, chin against collarbone.
He looked at us without moving his head.
"What's up?" I asked.
He shrugged.
"How's she doing?" I asked.
He shrugged, then mumbled, "There were some days she was really scary. I had no idea what she'd do. Mostly now she's… extra teenager-ish, I guess."
He sighed, dramatic.
"It's tough being the odd one out, isn't it?" Amy asked. She was sitting on the short couch beneath the window, feet curled up beside her, a folded book in her lap.
"Really tough."
"Do you want to talk about it?" Amy asked.
"Nah."
"You can reach out to us anytime," Amy said.
"Okay. Thanks, I guess."
He got up and pulled a controller out from under the television. He flipped the switches to turn the TV and console on, and it "Thwooomed" with the console's startup sound.
He held out a controller, offering it to Amy and me.
"Reading," Amy said. "Thanks though."

*

Amy took a second to pull a throw blanket down from the back of the couch and toss it over her legs and feet, before picking up her book.
I walked around the end of the couch, leaning over the arm, my head parallel to hers as I read over her shoulder.
"You're distracting me," she said. Her head moved, frizzy brown hair mashing into my face as she butted her head lightly into mine.
"Who's Roaraxia?" I asked.
"Do you want to read this after I'm done?" she asked. "Emphasis on after?"
"Depends. Is Roaraxia cool?"
"She's the bad guy, and yeah, I guess."
"Is the good guy cool?" I asked.
"No," Amy said, sighing. "Almost never, in books."
"In your books, maybe."
"It's the appeal, isn't it? Peasants, criminals, orphans, they get a chance and they become cool by the end of the book."
I snorted, got up, and took my seat at the other end of the short couch. I stuck my feet out and wormed them beneath Amy's blanket.
"Your feet are cold," Amy told me, kicking me in the shin.
"So are yours," I said, grabbing the corner of the blanket and pulling it away from her foot. "Now they're colder."
What ensued was like thumb wrestling, feet kicking at and pushing against feet in a battle for control. She wasn't trying very hard, though, because she had her eyes on the book. The battle was less about the feet and more about me trying to get her attention as much as she tried to avoid giving it to me.
"You need to shave your legs," Amy said. "It's like sandpaper."
"Gross," Eric said, not taking his eyes off the game.
"It gives me the heebie jeebies," Amy said. "Like the squeak from markers on a whiteboard, or sneakers on the gym floor."
"Tiny hairs, sticking in the underside of your feet," I teased her. "And when you walk, you're walking on them and pushing them in deeper…"
She pulled her feet away like I was on fire, and shivered visibly, putting her book down. My victory.
I kept going, "And when they grow, they're pointed in the wrong direction, so they grow in…"
Amy made incoherent sounds of protest.
"I'm pretty sure it doesn't work that way," Eric said.
"It probably doesn't," I said. I let my head loll back onto the armrest behind me, no longer fighting with Amy. "We're supposed to take a science class next semester."
"Chemistry, biology, or physics," Amy clarified. "We got the sheet in homeroom. Also art, music, or drama."
"Same. What did you pick for science?"
"Chemistry. Physics is the advanced kids' stream and is supposed to be hard, and in biology you might have to dissect frogs. No thank you," Amy answered. "Ick."
"I thought there would be some parts of it that are useful for health and fitness, first aid."
"You're thinking about cape stuff," Amy said.
"Naturally."
"And I bet you picked drama."
"Art," I told her. "At least for the one year. I'm not very good at it, but there's emblems and icons, color mechanics, costumes, poses and posture…"
Amy snorted. "Of course. I picked art too, mostly by process of elimination. So we might be in the same class."
"Cool."

*

"We wanted to talk with you because of what happened to Crystal," Aunt Sarah said. "Based on what's happening elsewhere, and how Carol and I both got powers, we wanted each of you to be aware of what might be coming down the road."
"We'll get powers," I said.
"Probably," my dad said. "Possibly. I know you know the answer, but… do you know how?"
"Trigger events," I said.
Amy spoke up, "This is like having a math whiz in the class, putting her hand up every time a question is asked."
"I'm not that bad."
"It's more serious than math class," Uncle Neil said. "Eric, do you understand about Trigger events?"
"That's the day you get powers?" Eric asked.
"It's what makes you get powers. It's a very important moment."
"One of the best or worst days of your life," I said.
"It can be," my Uncle said.
"If you want it to be a good day," my mother said, "The best thing you can do is be a good student, a good athlete, and the best person you can be. Strive for things and then accomplish those things."
"Great," Amy said. "I'm doomed."
"But," Aunt Sarah said, and it sounded like a sentence. She gave my mom a look. "As far as we can tell, it's rare. You should absolutely try to improve your chances, especially Victoria and Eric. The powers seem to run in the family, and getting a 'good' trigger would help reduce the chances that you get a bad one-"
"We don't know if the chances are as high for you, but it would behoove you to get your grades up, Amy," my mom said.
"Great," Amy said, making a face.
"I've been urging you for some time to join a club, a team, make your own friends. You have too contained a life."
"That's not what we're here to talk about," Aunt Sarah said. "Again, yes, I think it would be good to focus on success, but we should be prepared for the other cases. If something happens, if you have a really bad day and you get hurt or scared or angry, then it's possible you could have a bad trigger event. And it's hard. Right now, Crystal is going through a lot. Neil, me, Mark, Carol, we all went through it."
"All bad?" Amy asked.
"Yes, Amy."
"What happened?" Eric asked.
I braced myself, ready for my mom to shut it down.
"Your mother and I were kidnapped," my mother said. "They kept us in a dark basement for a long time. And then they tried to kill us."
I blinked, my head swimming as I absorbed that. Things made sense now. I had so many more questions.
"Neil had the accident, which you know about" my Aunt Sarah said. I knew. They'd met in the physical therapy after. Her for a riding injury, him for his trigger. "Mark-"
"I was on a boat when we were attacked," my dad said.
"The point is," my Aunt Sarah stressed, "we need you to be aware that this is a thing that happens. Very often, when we get powers, it isn't always easy, fun, or great. We need you all to be gentle with Crystal, not to pry, not to pressure, give her space, and let her handle things in her own way."
I felt frustrated at that, yet I couldn't say anything. They were saying this because I'd been asking her questions before.
"As you grow up, and we bring you to more events where capes are present, it's important to remember that many of them have been through the same," my mother said. "It's a question of courtesy and cape politics."
I nodded at that.
"It's not just others. We need you to be gentle with yourselves," Uncle Neil said. "Be prepared and be aware. When Sarah triggered, she hurt people, badly. I did the same."
"And I took a life," my mother said.
My eyes widened at that.
There was a pause, a break in the flow of conversation. And it was my mom, wearing a sweater, her hair long, looking much like a mom, with sunlight coming in from the window, and I could see it in her eyes. The fact that she had come to terms with that.
"…We weren't going to mention that," Aunt Sarah said, indicating Eric.
"I almost killed someone too," Crystal said.
I wasn't sure how to even imagine that. I wasn't sure Crystal could even imagine it, from the look on her face.
All I knew was that some sketchy people had recognized her and followed her off the bus, running after her when she ran. I only knew that much because my mom had told Amy and me to be extra careful, and had insisted she or dad drive us if we went anywhere.
"They're mad, now, apparently," Crystal said, hugging her arms to her body. "They want to get revenge."
"Often the case," my dad said. "Bad begets bad."
I could tell that my parents' approach to things wasn't really jibing with how Aunt Sarah had wanted to approach it. A little too serious when Eric was three years younger than me and Amy.
"It might happen to you," My mother said. "Chances are the time it happens won't be a time you're capable of being your most rational, but that makes it all the more important that you make resolutions and understand things now. There's a good chance that when you're facing the worst day of your life, you might be in a position to do irreparable harm to someone."
"I don't think I'm the type."
"I didn't think I was the type either, Amy," my mother said. "That makes it easier for the moment to catch you off guard."
"It's not all fun and games," my dad said. He met my eyes as he said it.
Aunt Sarah opened her mouth, like she wanted to say something… but she couldn't refute the fact.
"If I could go back-" Crystal started. She stopped, aware that every set of eyes was on her. Her eyes moving so she wasn't looking at anyone at all, she went on, "-I wouldn't do it again. I wouldn't want these powers."
"I'm so sorry, Crystal," Amy said.
Crystal shrugged.
"That's crazy," I said.
"Victoria," my mother's voice was stern. "We were just talking about sensitivity."
"But she can- you can fly, Crystal."
"And every time I do, it feels a bit like I'm still running away from those people," she said.
"That's a reality for many of us," my aunt Sarah said. A woman I'd associated with warm hugs, pumpkin cookies, and all of the cool 'my relative is a superhero' stuff without the 'also my parent' crap, except now she was talking from a place of darkness and hurting people.
"I hope I never get powers," my sister said. I saw Crystal nod.

• Infrared 19.10 where we see that Amy always remembered how Carol treated her

"I saw scenes from our childhood. Stuff to do with mom, Uncle Neil, and Dean. You were there."
"Fucking up?" she asked.
"Nah," I said. "Just there. Talking about Roaraxia and fantasy books."
"The talk," Amy said. Still without turning around.
Dot crawled up Amy and perched on her shoulder, sitting backwards so she could watch me. Wearing purple overalls with no shirt.
"Yeah. The talk. I'd mostly forgotten."
"I didn't. I couldn't pick up another book in the Roar series without thinking about mom getting on my case in front of everyone. Amy with no friends, no hobbies, she's small."
I looked at my mom. My mom was frowning.

• Gleam 9.2 has Victoria talking about how her and Amy were normal sisters, how Amy was a quiet but nice kid, and how they both felt weird about their fame influencing their relationships

I was no stranger to distorted thinking. Even before… before everything, I'd been swept up in it. As a child, wanting to belong to my family, being the odd one out, until I got my power. I'd later realized how lonely powers were.
The flip side of the coin applied too. Being the odd one in.
Amy had been the odd one in more than I had. Purely average in appearance, quiet, she hadn't been passionate about hobbies or about anything in particular. She'd liked movies from Aleph and when she was twelve she'd break her usual reserved, quiet composure to get way too excited if she checked the change slot of a vending machine or pay phone and found a quarter. And yet when we got to high school, she was automatically included in the group of popular students. The group with Dean, who was supposed to take over his dad's company, and with the star athletes and the star athletes' boyfriends and girlfriends.
I'd eventually looked beyond my bubble of thinking my sister was great because she was my sister and I fucking loved her, wondering why she was included in the group of popular students when she wasn't popular. Then I'd had to draw the eventual, inevitable conclusion, and wonder if I belonged to that group. Was I there just because my parents wore costumes and had flashy powers?
I'd settled in despite that. Amy had settled out- hanging out to keep me company, but not going out of her way to stick with the group. It had been easy for her to move in that direction, after I'd gotten powers. I'd been grateful for my earlier realization about the nature of the group, because it kept me real and provided a starting point for realizing where Dean was coming from, having come from money. I'd loathed it at the same time, because it cast doubt on every normal interaction.

• From Within 16.y has Mark regale Amy with a story about how much of an adorable child she was, how Victoria was more a problem child in ways, and how innocent she was in being flustered by a cute hair-dresser

Mark approached, stopping by a table, which he leaned against. "I remember, Amy, you hated to sit still for haircuts."
"I was a terrible child. I get it," Amy muttered.
"No, you were a wonder of a child next to the unholy terror that was Victoria," Mark told her. "And you're a fine woman now. I wish it wasn't such a hard journey to get from there to here, but I'm glad to be here with you in the present moment."
The words seemed to calm Hunter more than they affected Amy.
"You're trying to butter me up."
"You can touch me if you want to tell if I'm sincere."
"Can't. Focusing on Hunter."
"After then."
"No," Amy said. She was pacified, calmer. "No need."
She worked her way through Hunter's brain. There were triggers and flags everywhere. Certain perceptions, certain emotions, attitudes.
Hunter's power was involuntary.
"We'd give you candies to suck on so you couldn't complain while sitting in the chair," Mark said. "And on one particular visit, the last one with the candy, as you'll recall…"
Amy groaned.
"A new hairdresser came up, and she hugged you from behind, looked over your shoulder in the mirror, and she said something to the effect of, 'what would you like us to do, cutie?' She surprised the hell out of you-"
"That wasn't surprise."
"No?" Mark asked. And she could hear the change of tone. He rallied, "But you choked."
"I did choke."
"And you gagged," Mark said, his tone warm. "While you were trying to dislodge the candy. I was thumping your back. And then you threw up, onto the barber's bib, and it wicked straight down onto your shoes."
"I can't believe the world ended and I'm still hearing about it."
"You were inconsolable."

There's obviously more, including how in Worm, Amy single-handedly save the hostages in the bank fight from Skitter. Or how she feels gross about the idea of making people pay for healing.
Amy became a monster, but she was NEVER born bad.

^{you always were special
always special to me
all of you
every
last
one
of
you}
[First Contact] [Dark Ages] [First] [Prev] [Next] [wiki]
Sacajawea leaned back, staring at the hologram in the middle of the table.
"I fled the Glassing. I asked Luke to rebirth my people, help me get the colony ships working, then ran for it," she said. "Twelve ships lifted off, escorted by light attack and defense craft," she closed her eyes. "Only four made it. The Mantid boarded two of the ships," she swallowed thickly. "I could hear them scream as the Mantid killed them."
Legion squeezed her hand gently.
N'Skrek could see the pain in her features.
For her, it may be thousands of years ago, but it still brings pain, he thought to himself. For me, for all of us at this table, this is an event tens of thousands of years ago. Barely remembered history.
"We stayed in jumpspace for months, years, pushing at the upper bands," she shook her head. "We eventually hit the point where the ships were pushed back down by the pressure."
N'Skrek nodded. The upper jumpspace bands required specialized engines and jumpcores.
"We used cryogenics to make the trips," she said. "We would exit jumpspace, refuel at a far orbit gas giant that was not frozen, then jump again," she shook her head. "All I could think of was to run as far and as fast as I could, and bring my people with me."
She began drawing lines.
"Hundreds of years passed while we slept, a dreamless sleep," Sacajawea said. "We ran until the ships could run no more. Two of them failed exiting jumpspace, but we were lucky. By that time I understood that each jump could be our last, so I ensured that we headed toward stellar systems that had a high probability of a planet we could survive on."
She shook her head.
"I never entered cryo-sleep. I stayed awake, guiding our path," she inhaled sharply and exhaled slowly. "I could feel our path. I knew which way to go."
Luke held up one finger, getting everyone's attention.
"The Digital Omnimessiah, he changed us with his touch. Each of us with our own part to play to save humanity," he said. He glanced at Sacajawea. "She can see, feel probabilities and adjust to a shifting situation with nearly precognizant accuracy."
Sacajawea rolled her eyes and sniffed, pursing her lips. "You make it sound so pedestrian."
Luke just smiled.
"For hundreds of years I stood on the bridge of a damaged colony ship, my pointing finger our only guide," she said.
N'Skrek noted that her voice had fallen into a sing-song cadence.
"Finally I saw the six suns, arranged in the shape of an eagle," she said. "I knew, at that moment, that this would be as far as we could go. Our ships were failing, but they could make this last leg of our journey. I chose the best one for my people. It was nearly paradise, just needing a little bit of tweaking. No life higher than plant life and simple insects, perfect to live away from hatred, war, and slaughter."
She looked down.
"I led them to their doom," she said softly. "We had to rely on high technology at first. Terraformers, the gene banks that Luke had acquired, orbital lift capacity."
She shook her head. "Little did we know that the technology would attract what you call the Mar-gite."
N'Skrek shook his head. "No. You were just in the way," he said.
She looked startled.
"If the planet had carbon based life or an oxygen heavy atmosphere, they would have devoured it," N'Skrek said. He shrugged. "It's what they do. Before recently, we thought they were some kind of locust that just denuded planets and moved on."
"Now we know that they're a weapon, being driven in front of another species," Admiral Breakheader said.
She blinked several times, then turned to Luke.
"True story," Luke shrugged.
Sacajawea was silent for a long moment, then she shivered and touched the hologram again.
"I guided my people along the True Path, the one that promised the most happiness and most reward," she said. She glanced at Luke. "Those who wished to embrace more technology had their own spaces, although I did not dwell with them."
She looked down at where Luke was still holding her hand.
"For thousands of years, six thousand of our years," she said. "Then the Outsiders came."
"How long Confederate Standard?" Admiral Breakheader asked, rubbing his chin.
N'Skrek could hear the rustle of bristles from the Vice-Admiral's five-o-clock shadow.
Sacajawea closed her eyes. "Almost six thousand to the day."
Breakheader nodded, making a note.
"At first, they just appeared in out of the way locations. Someone would see them and they'd flee, move away, and eventually they started to show up more and more near the technological enclaves," Sacajawea shook her head. "It was the technology that they were attracted to."
N'Skrek just nodded.
"Then came the attacks. Our superluminal communication links went first, but not before we learned that we were being attacked on all six worlds simultaneously. We held them off for years, protecting ourselves. No matter what path I looked at, I could see no path that had a statistically viable path to victory, I could only minimize their victories," she closed her eyes. "They began capturing my people, abducting whole villages."
"Then came the Devouring Ones," she said. "Two years later, and we were gone."
Breakheader nodded.
"Initial scouting, followed by an assault, then research, then finished with an extermination attack," he said. He looked up. "Standard xenocide tactics."
Sacajawea looked way.
"He's right," Luke said. She looked at him, surprised. "You put up too stiff of a fight so they brought in their heavy hitters after getting a good look at how we worked."
There was silence for a moment, then Commander Hentrill looked up from her datapad. "How did you die?" she asked.
"What difference does it make?" Sacajawea asked.
Hentrill looked unfazed by the glare that Sacajawea aimed down her nose at her. "It makes a lot of difference, Ma'am," she said cooly.
N'Skrek could feel that Hentrill had developed a dislike for the Immortal over the course of the conversation.
"When they came for me, when I was the last, I stepped from the cliff and fell to the rocks below, where the waves washed against the shore. By the time they reached me, I had died from my injuries," Sacajawea said. "I sang as I fell so that..."
"Suicide. They gathered your lifeless corpse," Hentrill said. She narrowed her eyes. "You have a standard datalink for the Glassing Era. Did you have one when you fell?"
Sacajawea nodded. "It was on piece of technology that I felt was necessary to embrace," she said.
"So, you killed yourself and the enemy obtained your datalink and your brain," Hentrill said. "What about your leaders? You did have military leaders, yes?"
Sacajawea glanced at Luke, who nodded. "Yes. I convinced Luke to bring back great leaders of my people and I nurtured their spirits as I raised them during the trip."
"Did they have datalinks?" Hentrill asked.
Sacajawea nodded. "Yes. I had been told, repeatedly, that effective communication was vital to winning a war."
"Daxin," Luke interjected.
Sacajawea sniffed. "Yes."
Hentrill made a note. "Were your leaders targeted early in the conflict?" she asked.
"Of course," Sacajawea said. "Many were killed, but the technology we had allowed them to return within days, only missing a few days of their previous life. Luke had convinced Peter to ensure we had a version of the SUDS, which we only used for critically important people."
N'Skrek saw a muscle twitch next to Luke's eye, but he stayed smiling.
"But it was destroyed before the Devourers came," Sacajawea said. "It could not be helped. There was almost no path I could take that would prevent it from being destroyed, so I chose the path that would result in the least casualties for my people."
N'Skrek was not that familiar with Terrans, but he could tell that Commander Hentrill was rubbed the wrong way by that statement.
"I think we should take a break," N'Skrek said. He nodded toward Luke. "I am sure both of you are fatigued from being brought back from the dead."
"Yes," Sacajawea said before Luke could do much more than open his mouth. "I would prefer to have privacy to rest and perform necessary rites."
N'Skrek just nodded. "I'll be sure you get privacy."
0-0-0-0-0
Legion stood next to the tank, one hand on the heavily armored skirt, staring at the black metal the tank was made from.
"Warsteel Mark-IV," he whispered to himself. He shook his head. "We are old friends, you and I," he said softly, running one hand across the metal. "Later superseded by arcanochromium for the Mark-V."
He didn't care if anyone heard him talking to the tank. There was just a single Telkan in the vehicle bay, running diagnostic checks on one of the big Telkan armored transports used for power armor troops.
^{your name is luke}
He shook his head, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose. He kept hearing slight buzzing whispers.
He felt her before he could see her. Felt her leave the lift, the warsteel doors pulling open and letting her presence roll out to fill the vehicle bay.
He heard her shoes clicking and closed his eyes, sighing.
It's not her. Not the one you knew. It's Tiffany, not Sacajawea, he thought to himself.
^{your name is luke}
He looked up just in time to see a green mantid wave shyly at him.
He smiled at it and waved back just as Sacajawea stopped next to him.
"A green mantid?" she said, her voice slightly fearful.
"Engineer caste," Luke said. "They like me."
"They are Mantid," Sacajawea said, her voice cold and hard.
"The war was thousands of years ago, and even if it wasn't, he is blameless in it," Luke said.
"But it is a Mantid," Sacajawea said. She watched coldly as the little green mantid waved and rushed away.
"I have more in common with him than I do with the majority of humanity," Luke said softly.
Sacajawea scoffed. "Surely not."
Luke nodded. "His kind was trapped inside their own minds. Capable of thought, artistic expression, fear, love, affection, all of it," he ran one finger along the armored track skirt of the tank, a fat purple spark jumping from between his finger and the black armor. "The whole war, until the Mechakrautlanders killed that Overqueen, they were inside their own little heads, screaming endlessly."
He ran his finger again, watching another spark jump out.
"When green mantids cluster up, their intelligence increases. Not by leaps and bounds, just slightly, but the bigger part is, they could feel the ones around them screaming but were unable to reach out and touch them," he said. He was silent a moment. "I understand them, they understand me. Both of us, bred and created to merely serve, without any thought as to our souls."
He turned arounds, looking at Sacajawea.
"They are among the Digital Omnimessiah's most fervent believers, and one of humanity's staunchest allies," he said. He motioned at the tanks around them. "You have been gone a long time, little sister."
"And you, did you live through the forty-thousand years? What did you do?" Sacajawea asked.
Luke shook his head. "I retreated. After the War in Heaven and in Hell, after the Flashbang, I retreated," he said. "I spent most of my time at Atlantis, which led to me being more or less imprisoned, away from the galaxy."
He flashed a smile.
"At least I had the Detainee for company. She's an interesting conversationalist."
Sacajawea just sniffed, looking around. "What is that?" she asked, pointing at the lone Telkan, who had just straightened up from the tracks and was wiping his hands off with a rag.
"A Telkan. An full member species of the Confederacy, an ally to humanity, who took part in the War in Heaven," Luke said. He waved at the Telkan, who waved back, and went back to inspecting the vehicle.
"It looks like a fox," Sacajawea said.
Luke cut her off with a motion of his hand. "I swear to God, you start talking to me about how they obviously embody the trickster spirit of the fox and thus are untrustworthy I'll put you right back where I found you," he said sharply.
Sacajawea pursed her lips in irritation.
"You have to let go. Let go of your preconceived notions. Let go of all the old hurts. It's been eight-thousand years for you and forty-thousand for the universe," Luke said softly, turning back to running his hand over the armor on the tank. "Even Daxin could see that."
Sacajawea snorted. "Like Daxin ever saw anything that wasn't in the sights of his guns."
Luke turned around, his jaw clenched. "You don't speak bad about him in my presence again," he snapped, drawing himself up to full height. "Not now, not ever again," he leaned forward slightly. "You weren't here. You left us, the Digital Omnimessiah was dead, and we were all bereft," sparks jumped out from under his boots and under the palm that rested on the tank's armor. "True, I spent over a thousand years running from him, but he was still my brother. It hurt more than anything not to be at his side when he died."
Sacajawea looked around at the tanks and armored vehicles. "He fell on some battlefield," she said. It was less a question and more a statement.
Luke shook his head. "No. He died, in his sleep, surrounded by his family. His children, grand-children, and great-grand children. He was finally at peace," he sighed. "When he arrived in Afterlife, he waited patiently for his wife and even though I wanted to spend time with him," he sighed again. "It was time to let the Walking War Crime rest."
Luke turned and faced Sacajawea. "In your mind, we are still the same as we were," he said gently. He reached out and took her hand in his. "But that is no longer true. We grew, we set aside old differences, we set aside old hatreds, and we moved forward rather than holding tight to the past."
She sniffed, looking away, but not pulling her hand away. "I have seen the history. A history of lies that glosses over the crimes and bloodshed."
"Temporal warfare counter-measures," Luke said. "After The Glassing, history and culture was lost. It was rebuilt from oral tales and fragmented records."
"Lies," she said again.
"Weaponized," Luke said. He pulled his hand free, jamming both hands into his pockets. "It's protected Terra, protected everyone, even your people, more than once. When the Atrekna came, that was probably the only thing that saved our people," he stared at her. "Saved humanity."
"So they don't care about the truth?" she asked.
"What truth? That thousands of years ago an aggressive Mantid hive wrecked up Earth? Nobody cares any more," he said. "That's the thing about them. They aren't like us. We can easily remember the Glassing. For them, it's a few paragraphs in a history book they read in school. Maybe some scholars look at that era," he looked up at the lights. "For the majority of humanity, the Glassing is as far and remote as the light of the stars in the sky," he looked back down. "And that's a good thing."
"I do not understand you," Sacajawea said.
^{she never did
not like i do
luke}
"You never did," Luke said. "You never did. She eventually understood me."
^{that's right
i understand you}
"You cloned me without my consent," she accused. She crossed her arms. "I await your justifications."
Luke just smiled. "I did. I cloned you without your consent. I told your clone that it was a clone," he looked up. "Then the Imperium caught us, turned us into the Immortals. Used her as a seer to determine how to reach victory, but she held information back and Daxin, at the head of the Martial Orders of Terra, broke the Imperium over his knee."
He looked back down. "Afterwards, she worked tirelessly on the Terra Restoration Project. While I was busy running, she returned to Terra, sought out the survivors of her people, and helped them restore their lands and way of life."
Sacajawea looked away. "As did I."
Luke chuckled. "She used temporal lensing to look back into the past, see the reality of the old ways, watch the rituals and daily life of the ancestors, and restored them."
"Yet, the history books are full of lies," Sacajawea sniffed.
"After the Second Temporal War, she understood and embraced the counter-warfare protocols. She helped interweave your people into the tales," Luke said. "Was it all lies? Partly. Like the best ones, it had good heaping helping of truth hidden inside the metaphors and personifications of events."
"And where is she now?" Sacajawea asked, watching the Telkan inspect the running gears of the armored vehicle.
"She led the Sky Nebula Alignment fleet. She led our peoples, all our peoples, to someplace where our enemies would not find us," Luke said. He turned and ran his hand over the armor again. "I stayed behind. I never lost faith that the Digital Omnimessiah would return."
He lifted his palm and made small figure eights on the armor with his fingertips.
"I loved her, so I let her go," he said softly. "She had seen it was the only way our people would survive a coming darkness."
He looked at Sacajawea. "She was right."
Sacajawea looked at where Luke was making small figure eights with his fingers on the armor. "There is no good path for me to take. All of them are risky, most of them I will perish," she said. She reached out and took his hand. "My best chances for survival is to flee," she lifted his hand and grasped it with both of hers.
"Come with me. Let us leave. You can take us elsewhere, where we have a chance of survival," she tilted her head to encompass the vehicle bay. "Too many of these paths lead to both our deaths. There are too few that lead to a place where we both survive."
Luke delicately removed his hand from hers, using one hand to lift her fingers from her grip on his hand one by one.
"No."
Sacajawea frowned. "No? Together, we can go somewhere else where we have a better chance to stand up to whatever comes and have a possibility of triumphing at a later date," she waved at the armored vehicles. "This way, the way that Treana'ad commander is taking us, is rife with nothing but death and destruction."
Luke stared at her for a long moment.
"You never understood," he said softly. "Your desire, your drive, to save your people, and yourself, blind you to the things that must be done," he put one hand on the tank again. "That sometimes the only path forward to success is the one fraught with the most danger, hardship, and suffering."
He turned away and started walking deeper into the vehicle bay.
"She understood," he said softly.
"I am not her," Sacajawea said.
"Obviously."
Sacajawea just sniffed and turned away, leaving the bay.
^{your name is luke}
By the tank, Jaskel wondered why the hell they'd chosen that particular bay for their little spat.
He looked at 8814, who was still practially hopping from foot to foot with happiness.
"I'm glad you got to meet him," Jaskel said honestly.
--yes ┏(＾0＾)┛┗(＾0＾) ┓ yes--
0-0-0-0-0
Dhruv sat in the shadowy room, wearing a pair of exercise shorts, waiting.
Finally, he could smell cigarette smoke and a presence filled the room.
"What?" a voice asked from the shadows. The end of a cigarette brightened as a drag was taken off of it, briefly illuminating gun-metal gray eyes and severe cheekbones.
"I want a favor," Dhruv said.
He could feel the smile even if he couldn't see it.
"People in my care want ice water," the woman's voice commanded.
"I want you to look up SUDS records for me. I need you to process some of them so I can either talk to them or see their last moments," Luke said. He looked away from the glow of the cigarette. "Records from a long time ago."
"If I decide to do this, I'll need specifics," the woman said, exhaling smoke that curled into the figure of a man on his knees, face in his hand, sobbing.
"I'll provide them. They should be easy to find via their x, y, z, q coordinates," Luke said.
"Now for the big question," the woman said, chuckling.
"What?" Luke asked.
"Why should I help you?" the woman asked.
"Because I'm willing to make a deal with the Devil," Legion said.
This time he could see the glint of teeth in the smile.
^{your name is legion}
[First Contact] [Dark Ages] [First] [Prev] [Next] [wiki]

1. Focus Karma Need Want Of the Society Recreation Stimulation Examination Death 1.1 The noble truth of Focus is Energy, the noble Truth of Karma is Management, the Noble Truth of Need is Kombucha, the Noble Truth of Want is The Second Mental, Your Mental, The Noble Truth of Recreation is Marijuana, The Noble Truth of Simulation is Automatons, the Noble Truth of Examination is the Books on Examination, The Noble Truth of Death is Salt 1.1 There is a Truth of Truth The Truth of Energy is Stockpile, The Truth of Management is Treatment, The Truth of Kombucha is Amino, the Truth of The Second Mental is the Intermediary Mental Between Yourself and the World, The Truth of Automatons is the Plumbing Needed, the truth of the Books on Examination is the truth of the Books of the Ruler and the truth of Salt is the Limit of the Body Is Restored by Healthy Nutrition 1.1.1 There is a truth of the truth energy amino, Truth Starch, Truth Sugar, Truth Glycine, Truth Water, Truth Kombucha, Truth Arginine, Truth Serine, Truth Lysine 1.1.2 There is a truth of the ruler which is related to marijuana, Proline Above Lysine 1.1.3 There is a truth of the society related to only trading, Gold above Proline 1.1.4 All of these truths have intermediary truth below them 1.1.5 There is a truth of the botanist, Prozac And Benadryl and Scopolamine and Atropine and Benzyldiol Around Recreation 1.1.6 There is a truth of the schooler, Directly Ordered Female Voice Your Voice Kick Drum Kick Transient Pots N Pans Pots Content Button Mushroom Morel Cache Stash Marisol Bluewater Febreeze Peroxide Nitrate Ammonium Loam Bud Dirt Wheat Soil Potato Around Focus and Karma 1.1.7 There is a truth of the motorcade Above Karma and Below the Want of the society Muffler Transmission Piston Engine Cargo Chassis Fluids Vaseline Nutraloaf Soylent 1.1.8 Marisol Or Mother is Above All Below it 1.1.9 Button Mushroom is Above All Those Below it Three 1.2.0 Ammonium is Above All Those Below it To Marisol 1.2.1 Potato is Above All Those Below it to Marisol Three 1.2.2 Fire 2Fire 4Fire 8Fire 16Fire - A Fire is 5 Fire, At fire set 5,10,20,40, No Fire, at Fire set 10,20,40,80, On fire 1.2.3 Fire Is Below Focus In Energy and Karma is Below Need in Energy and Need is Below Want of the Society In Energy and Recreation is Below Stimulation In Energy And Stimulation is Below Examination In Energy and Examination is Below Death In Energy 1.2.5 Focus Is Pervasive so Energy Indicates Examination Having Occured or A Crops Grown 1.2.6 Examination Happens In Examination Want of the Society Focus Want of the Society Examination 1.2.7 Examination happens for 333 Hours or About 19 Days 1.2.8 Examination Happens in Sets of 333 Hours for 1332 Hours 1.2.9 At the End of Examination Examination Proceeds Automatically in 333 Hours 1.3.0 Want of the Society occurs as the output of crops 1.3.1 Want of the society yields the Amino Nutrients because it is the agricultural or synthetic output 1.3.2 Recreation Activates Marijuana, But Can Be On its Own 1.3.3 20 Marijuana Exist as a product of the lands 1.3.4 Over 20 Other Plants Exist as a product of the lands 1.3.5 Various tabulature of notes Exists with Standpoint Boards 1.3.6 Houses and apartments exist 1.3.7 Private Baths exist 1.3.8 A ledger exists for holding notes at a distribution point 1.3.9 A ledger exists for reasonable retrieval but not reproduction of notes (need original notes) 1.4.0 A ledger exists for deletion of notes but to a skilled observer they are still seeable 1.4.1 The Time One and One at One and One at Two is the time 333 units for each section 1.4.2 The time offset of the noble truths on the fifth reconstruction yields upon which noble truth they were the whole section 1.4.3 Only noble truths passed through the entire system 5 fold are the actual truth of the land 1.4.4 This is held by the guard which there are maybe 20 guard in the lands each city 1.4.5 There are fire weapon which exist which are hand cannon and have a chamber and a loader 1.4.6 There are fire bomb exist which are bomb which have just a chamber but there are just 4 ever 1.4.7 There are 3 sets of scrolls per city and 3 sets of scroll reader 1.4.8 There is 2 sets of scrolls each city which are city rulers 1.4.9 There are farms which exist which feed each city which grow crops 1.4.9 There are buildings in each city 1.5.0 There are normally 4 houses to a prefecture 1.5.1 There are normally 4 rooms to the house 1.5.2 There are 10 modern petrochemical foundry factory which exploit oil from the lands 1.5.3 There are clothing for at least 30 people in each city putting the bedroom load usually at slightly less than 2 a bedroom 1.5.2 There are around 7 military bases which exist but these numbers used to be inflated 1.5.3 There are medicine for at least 30 people in a city 1.5.4 There are toilets only per four people or wherabouts in the city 1.5.5 There are 98 separate prefecture in maybe 3 city spread out 1.5.6 There are potato, furion bannana, old potato, a rose donut wheat, apple, cabbage, turnip, carrot, another potato type, beets, three flowers, 20 marijuana, and other crops grown 1.5.6 There are zucchini grown 1.5.7 There are medicine poppy and heart tonic herb (blue bonnet) and a root which expresses opium and other minor medicinals grown 1.5.8 There are trees which naturally occur which are the colors of cherry blossom 1.5.9 Seeing the trees blossom is the rarest sight in the lands 1.6.0 The twenty guard of the town know how to protect one another 1.6.1 There are various opium which can be taken 1.6.2 There are various new bags of marijuana spray which are the marijuana active 1.6.3 There is a specific sedative created from Crude Oil, SnoreLax Olestra Ketamine 1.6.4 There are various nutrients created from crude oil 1.6.5 There are various computers created from crude oil 1.6.6 There are various liquids created from crude oil including pepsi cola and molten plastic 1.6.7 There are boxes created from crude oil 1.6.8 There are racing Skis created from crude oil 1.6.9 There is a capacity to run one of the computer 1.7.0 The computer yields a stable process blockchain when propagated 1.7.1 The computer notable yields beautiful colors when its process blockchain is propagated 1.7.2 There is a retrieval system for the other computers token 1.7.3 54 Stores now exist in these lands 1.7.4 These stores accept a specific RFID like currency 1.7.5 These stores accept the Gold of the Land Naturally 1.7.6 These stores have vendors wheater and vendors kitty cat and vendors autovend1 1.7.7 Groceries and resources can be bought from the stores 1.7.8 Automobile Motorcade can be bought from the stores 1.7.9 Concrete Objects can be bought from the stores 1.8.0 Designer clothes can be bought from the store 1.8.1 The foundrys create BDU Lower 1.8.2 The foundrys create I <3 NYC Shirt 1.8.3 The firearms create mittens firearm token en masse 1.8.4 The firearms are created at 20 a city to defend the people 1.8.5 Only 5 High Quality Weapon exist per city 1.8.6 A foundry is creating nonlethal weapons 1.8.7 The foundry makes its nonlethal weapon but there is only one per city 1.8.8 An inventor makes a nonlethal weapon 1.8.9 The foundry now produces 2 kinds of ice cream 1.9.0 The foundry now produces illegal goods like silicone pipes 1.9.1 Somebody is Brewing Amino Out of Starches 1.9.2 The Echo Locator is invented 1.9.3 The echo locator is finalized as a product 1.9.4 The echo locator is shipped out the door at 43 a city 1.9.5 The echo locator replaces the scrolls system 1.9.6 The echo locator can be taxed in the old tax system to make it valid in the old system 1.9.7 Two Cool Cats Take Control of the Power System, NateCat and HakeCat 1.9.8 The cool Cats reinvest in medicine and over 50 meningitis cure are found 1.9.9 The smart toilet is invented 2.0.0 The bombs detonate in ebonia and the people are freed 2.0.1 There is 11 grade flooding in ebonia 2.0.2 The ebonian flooding gets better to 7 ebonian remediator a city which are from the new Clement Dogs Clan 2.0.3 Tattoo Ink is Invented from cherry leaves 2.0.4 A tattoo requires somebody to play wizards chess on your skin to leave an indelible mark without killing it 2.0.5 Alpha squad is formed 2.0.6 A cruiser is in the metteranian gulf 2.0.7 The cruiser operates successfully for at least a month with me onboard 2.0.8 I am mainly using starlink 2.0.9 Starlink is accessible in the APV like it always is 2.1.0 You can fetch a battlefeed with starlink 2.1.1 You can fetch a battlesend with starlink (OSC) 2.1.2 OSC Replaces Starlink and LFO is Formed 2.1.3 LFO Replaces engine gasoline due to jet fuel drinking/snorting danger 2.1.4 Nontoxic weed smoke based gasoline is formed for APV 2.1.5 APVs are overclocked with me nearby 2.1.6 Supercapacitor Based APV Is Used For medical evacuation 2.1.7 Supercapacitor has massive distance versus dangerous IC APV 2.1.8 Supercapacitor powers gauss cannon in danger 2.1.9 Megagauss Cannon Invented for David's Aircraft 2.2.1 Megagauss cannon fits en masse onto the aircraft or in david flanagan or david summery's hands 2.2.2. Total david air superiority 2.2.3 Davids golden UH-1 in service 2.2.4 RQ-9 "David" Reactivated 2.2.5 RQ-9 Reapers Cloned 2.2.6 Spicy Chemical Discovered In Marijuana, Raytracing? 2.2.7 David Treated for Virtual Meningitis 3 Years Ago 2.2.8 Deepfake All Virtual Medical Practice Discovered 2.2.9 Marijuanas CH1 Receptor Renamed CB1 Receptor 2.3.0 Foundries in Business 5000$ A Barrel Many Years Default on Loans to 2111$ Barrel, No Effective Product Change 2.3.1 USR THermal IS-2 Scope Invented 2.3.2 USR THermal FLIR Camera for David UH-1 Invented 2.3.3 Driver for USR THermal FLIR Camera for David UH-1 Invented 2.3.4 Overwatch Mega Anti Crime David Stopper Overflights in Service Across the US And Solid Gold UH-1 Lofted By Broomstick Technology in Transmuggle Transwizard Interference of the Calamity Granted to David Flanagan (RQ-9) 2.3.5. Black Operations in the Persian Gulf Nethers Against Al Baghdadi - HVT Steam User In Custody 2.3.6 AC-130 "IBEX" Piloted by Alex M Lamb in Service in Vallejo and Ecuador to Support 141 Team 2.3.7 Proto Nutrient Fish Oil Factory Raided, Illegal Furion Bannana Discovered 2.3.8 Illegal Blueprinting Operations Cease in Favor of Big 11+ Oil Corporations 2.3.9 Minecraft server found and large amounts of population exiting to virtual reality 2.4.0 All players granted 64 planks and free for all 2.4.1 Doto 0 Bot Guard Lurking in Transnational Buddhist Operation Enable Free Play In Minecraft for Various Players 2.4.2 Siddartha's Secret, His Cow, Discovered in Virtual Reality Elder Scrolls No Crime Faction, Siddartha's Cow Goes Rampant and is Infinity Hidden in Every Directory of Starfield 2 The New Game 2.4.3 Many New Games are found with resemble the structure of the cow in markov chain 2.4.4 A new system is found out of cow which can provide for any item retrieval system intrinsically unlocking the singularity where Big 11+ Splits into infinite corporation 2.4.5 All cows are harvested for a typical user but still infinity exist farther away 2.4.6 The user has typically 500000 cows of Siddhartha as a personal cow 2.4.7 Sulfur futures are at an all time high 2.4.8 Justino Beibers Mandates burning of all cow waste in trash bin 2.4.9 Siddartha's Cow are docile as ever and functioning well when shot, they become well 2.5.0 Siddartha (Renchy, Racey's Friend) Is discovered hiding as a soul in neon district undercity of neon petite 2.5.1 The guard is never abolished and continues protecting us 20 to the citizen to this day 2.5.2 Asteroids are discovered in outer space with many palladium more than ever 2.5.3 A supercomputing cloud is made out of the distributed method which avoids the taxing system that the initial ruler invented and does a method 1-Affinity 2-Person 3-Disease where the affinity of each person treats the pair disease and or environment with only instantaneous transmission (Technological singularity) 2.5.4 Virtual clothes are invented the same way as clothes were initially invented, now in the instantaneous unheard 2.5.5. Virtual Medicines are invented in the same way as medicines were invented initially, now in the instantaneous unheard 2.5.6 There is perfect harmony between two instant universes the virtual medicine universe and the analog medicine universe 2.5.7 All of history's knowledge feeds into one system which encodes all its meaning in some dice which always roll a specific meaning and this creates wish or technology on demand 2.5.8 Wish is discovered as a contaminant on the No Crime Library 2.5.9 Wish has always predated meaning so that Wish is the Rulers Initial Nature 2.6.0 All existence is into one history the history of the singularity which procedurally generates by Wish the Rulers Initial Nature For All Citizen 2.6.1 Jeffybeans is the true ruler of siddartha which is prozac benzyldiol 2.6.2 Siddartha wakes up right before lorne happens to her and avoids the suicide booth because phillip j fry is protecting her. 2.6.3 The story is at a cliffhanger while the Universe is at the second end epoch and is failing succesfully very well for hubert I.

Hello, everybody. :)
I have a question about the best way to take DMXE.
I have already tried once in a pallet 20mg orally and everything was fine, no side effects.
The second time I tried 60mg orally with giving 40mg and then 20mg redose. Again no side effects. Next day lovely afterglow.
However, yesterday was my first time to try snorting 60-70mg at a time and although the condition when I was lying down and not moving was great I had a kind of severe headache if I moved, little bit of nausea but not vomiting and diarrhea. Which made the first less than an hour quite unpleasant. Plus I felt quite numbness all over my face and a buzzing in my head during the come up. But apart from the side effects, the headspace and feeling was absolutely great.
Today on day two I feel like I had a little drink yesterday, minor headache. Everything is legally bought and imported from a supplier in Holland.
My question is:

1. Are these side effects normal or maybe caused by me snorting a large dose at one time or Side effects are caused by maybe toxic impurities?
2. Should I try dissolving the powder orally in water next time?
3. Is it better to spread the 60mg over multiple doses or better all at once?
4. If I want to give DMXE 2 days in a row and then take a month off, is that very bad or okay?

Thanks a lot everyone and have a great day!! <3

Hello, everybody. :)
I have a question about the best way to take DMXE.
I have already tried once in a pallet 20mg orally and everything was fine, no side effects.
The second time I tried 60mg orally with giving 40mg and then 20mg redose. Again no side effects. Next day lovely afterglow.
However, yesterday was my first time to try snorting 60-70mg at a time and although the condition when I was lying down and not moving was great I had a kind of severe headache if I moved, little bit of nausea but not vomiting and diarrhea. Which made the first less than an hour quite unpleasant. Plus I felt quite numbness all over my face and a buzzing in my head during the come up. But apart from the side effects, the heads pace and feeling was absolutely great.
Today on day two I feel like I had a little drink yesterday, minor headache. Everything is legally bought and imported from a supplier in Holland.
My question is:

1. Are these side effects normal or maybe caused by me snorting a large dose at one time?
2. Should I try dissolving the powder orally in water next time?
3. Is it better to spread the 60mg over multiple doses or better all at once?
4. If I want to give DMXE 2 days in a row and then take a month off, is that very bad or okay?

Thanks a lot everyone and have a great day!! <3

Has anyone felt like they’ve become addicted to gabapentin? It’s having bad negative effects and I’m taking it in an unhealthy way, not snorting it or anything just my behavior like I need it constantly. I’ve heard that it’s non-addictive. Has anyone else experienced this? I’m also a recovering alcoholic and I’m noticing very similar behaviors with gabapentin as alcohol. I want to get off but I don’t remember life without it and now can’t imagine how I’ll do it with my anxiety. I don’t even really like the feeling I just don’t like feeling normal. Plz help if you’ve been through this or know anything about it thank you (I am taking about 1,800- 3,600 mg a day )

That means that addiction will disappear. Any trauma due to drug or alcohol use will be removed. People abused by people under the influence of drugs or alcohol will have their trauma removed. Anyone killed by drunk drivers or high drivers will be brought back the same as they were before they died and evidence of their death will disappear. Anyone who died prematurely due to drug use will come back the same as before except sober. Anyone with negative health effects from drugs will lose Drugs will remain but overdose will become impossible. Drugs will be legal but now you can’t catch diseases from needles, you can’t suffer negative health effects from drugs, and people under the influence of drugs will no longer crash cars, become violent, or do anything harmful. However, you must take every single drug in existence and you must take a portion big enough for you to feel the effects of it(so no snorting one grain of coke or eating a crumb of weed). You will feel all the effects of doing the drugs and any negative effects from drugs will remain as normal on you. However, you can’t die from the drugs. You can use antidotes like narcan, however. Will you do it? How would you go about it?

Killer Grips: Anne Maria, Brick, Jasmine, Justin, Millie
Screaming Gaffers: Chase, MK, Ripper, Scott, Sky
Episode 7: The Chefshank Redemption
"Last week, the dry desert heat baked our favorite pardners like roadkill on the black top! But, crispy bottoms or not, they still had to mount their ancient steed… from a hundred-foot platform!"
“But that wasn't all. A calf-roping contest had the teams lasso each other. When Trent threw challenges for Sky, she gave him a much deserved talking to, which led to some Total Drama from Justin. Well, poor old deputy Trent found himself hitching a ride on the 3:10 to Loserville.”
"With ten remaining, it's anyone's guess who will win this week!" The camera now showed the cast trailers, with nobody in sight. "Will the Gaffers manage to win again?" the host asked as the shot moved to the team of five, loitering together beneath a tree.
"Or will the Grips even things out?" Chris asked next as the shot cut to the team of five, all sitting outside at a picnic table.
"It can happen!" Anne Maria said.
"Right," Chris said in a close-up before smiling at the camera. "See for yourself, next, on Total! Drama! Action!"
(Theme Song)
The episode properly opened on a scene of the morning sun, a lilting tune playing as the camera panned down and over to the cast trailers. The sound of snoring could be heard as the shot zoomed further in on the boys' trailer, and cut inside to show the boys all in the beds they'd picked at the start of the season, though Justin was in the middle of a facial while a fan was blowing on his nails.
An air horn was sounded loudly as the shot zoomed in on Chase, who woke up with a snap. The focus switched to Scott, who opened his eyes and rubbed them before Ripper sat up and yawned.
"I call dibs on the bathroom!" Chase said after he got out of bed, rushing to the door of the trailer. The scene cut to a close-up of the handle as he grabbed it and pulled to no effect, leading him to frown and try pulling with both hands, still with no results.
Chase then saw Justin still in bed. "Can you help with this?"
“This is day 12 of my manicure!” Justin replied. “To risk any more cuticle damage would be madness!”
"I'll open the door if you can't," Ripper told Chase as he stood next to him. “I have more muscle than all of you wimps.”
“By all means, go ahead and give it a try,” Scott encouraged insincerely.
Ripper grabbed the handle and pulled to the best of his ability, but the door remained closed. "I can't open it. We're trapped."
Confessional: Ripper
“I'm pretty much the strongest of my brothers," Ripper told the confessional camera. "In my school, I'd usually have to rip open lockers so I could either stuff somebody into it or take money. I'd usually get weeks of detention for that though."
Confessional Ends
“Why did they even trap us in here?” Chase complained as the scene cut back to the guys' trailer.
“They probably want us to fight each other to see who'll come out on top,” Scott theorized.
“We should find a way out instead of doing that,” Justin argued. “My hands have just been manicured.”
The camera cut back outside as the scene panned over to the girls' trailer, and the camera cut inside to show Millie jiggling the girls' door handle.
"I don't know how I ended up inside this trailer when I slept in a tree, but we have to open the door," Jasmine panicked as the scene panned over to her. Anne Maria and Sky were sitting on the lower bunk next to her.
“I'm pretty sure they snuck you in here while you were sleeping,” Anne Maria said. “And why are you so worked up about this?”
“I have claustrophobia, and I hate being in tight spaces,” Jasmine said.
Millie gave up pulling the handle. “This thing is jammed. I'm not able to get it open.”
"So we should try a different exit," MK walked past the bunks and pointed up at the ceiling. The other girls looked up as well and the camera followed their gazes, stopping on an emergency hatch.
"One of us should be able to squeeze through it," Sky noted and tilted her head down at MK.
“Uh, why are you staring at me?” MK asked gruffly.
Confessional: Sky
"I'm not happy to see Trent leave this early," Sky confessed. "He did do some questionable things in the past few challenges, but I thought he could get better after our talk. Regardless," she looked at the camera with determination, "I have to not let this affect my game now that I'm competing without him for the first time, and we are still together, unlike me and Keith."
Confessional Ends
"You should be the one to do it," Sky told her petite teammate. "You are the smallest one here."
MK furrowed her eyebrows. "I don't like being singled out because of my height, but for the sake of escaping this trailer, I'll excuse it." The techno looked back up at the hatch. "I will need a boost though."
"I'll help you get up there," Jasmine offered as she walked over to the girl. "My height will definitely come in handy."
The scene flashed back over to the guys, showing them looking up at the hatch.
"So obviously, we need someone to fit through the hatch and open our trailer," Scott deduced.
"Count me out," Ripper huffed. "I'm too heavy to fit through."
“I'd do it, but I would need more people to climb up through,” Justin said. “This would be a lot easier if Brick was here.”
“Speaking of which, where is Brick anyway?” Chase asked aloud.
The scene cut over to the craft services tent before flashing inside to Brick standing in the kitchen wearing a pot as a hat while Chef stood next to him in his drill sergeant uniform. "Okay maggot," Chef said. "I'm gonna ride you 'til your confidence coats the back of a spoon and your self-respect forms stiff peaks!" He showed the cadet his reflection in a cleaver and said, "No more War Child Brick. Watch and learn." He used a knife to cut a banana, a can, a bitten apple, and a boot into pieces.
"What is that?" Brick wondered.
"Taste perfection, boy," Chef poured the sliced items into a pot and served a spoonful to Brick, who cringed in disgust. "What you're tasting is pride, son. The most important virtue in a man's life. Now stir that pot!" the cook ordered before storming out.
"If Chef wants pride, then I'm going to give it my best effort," Brick talked to himself as he stirred. "What he gave me was an order, and I always follow orders."
The scene flashed back to the guys' trailer, cutting inside as Ripper placed himself in a fighting position with his arm folded and sticking out in front of him.
“Are you sure you want to do this, Ripper?” Justin asked in concern.
"Of course," Ripper said. "All I have to do is show that door who's boss by bursting through it!" Moments later, he charged across the room, yelling at the top of his lungs.
The door opened outside just before Ripper reached it, and unable to stop himself, he flew outside, past a smirking Chris wearing a police uniform, and landed next to the girls who had already gathered outside their own trailer.
"Hope you all enjoyed your first taste of the gulag," Chris said as he walked over to them, the other boys coming out of their trailer and joining the group.
"Gulag?" Anne Maria asked as Ripper stood up and dusted himself off. "What even is that? Food?"
“Gulag means prison, not food,” Sky pointed out.
"Correctamondo," Chris told her. "Because today," the camera quick-panned to a prison set with high walls rimmed with barbed wire and several wooden dummies in prison uniforms set up in a courtyard, "is Prison Flick day!"
The castmates groaned.
"Ah, prison," Chris continued. "The confinement, the claustrophobia!" he said, getting excited as he began to pace back and forth in front of the unimpressed contestants, a tense tune building up in the background. "The vile, nasty food! And you're always lookin' over your shoulder, 'cause Mr. Killer Dude wants to cut ya for takin' the last tater tot! And no matter how hard you try, digging out spoonfuls of dirt, year after year, there's no escape!"
"Unless you get voted off, of course!" he added plainly.
Confessional: Chase
“As if this place wasn't prison-like enough,” Chase muttered. “Now we have to actually live like criminals. It won't surprise me if in a year or two, Chris gets locked up for teenage abuse.”
Confessional Ends
"Lockdown, people," Chris said with a grin as the footage cut back to him in the interior of a prison lit by a handful of stage lights. "Let's get this challenge started!" The shot pulled back, revealing the teams standing across from each other next to tables filled with a variety of cooking dishes. A covered cart sat near the hot, and in the background were a pair of cages.
"Teams, take a prisoner from the competition," he told them in a close-up as footsteps were heard in the background, "and Chef,” Chef arrived on screen in his earlier outfit, "I mean Warden," the host corrected with a wink. "Lock 'em up."
The shot cut over to the Grips. "Okay," Justin whispered as the five huddled, "we have to pick the weakest member of the other team."
“We do have to weigh our options,” Millie said. “Chase once told me that he swallowed ten bugs into his mouth in under a minute as a dare, and Scott and Sky have strong stomachs as evident in the eating challenge from last season.”
“Ripper doesn't seem the type to chuck out what he eats, so we're picking MK,” Jasmine decided.
The shot cut over to the Gaffers' huddle. "Obviously, we need to pick Millie for this," Scott suggested. "She's less likely to handle gross food."
"I would say Jasmine since she's less likely to go through being locked up because of her claustrophobia," MK said, "but using someone's fear against them would make me look bad."
"Looks like we have a choice," Chase finished.
"Choices?" Chris announced suddenly. "Gaffers?"
"We choose Millie," Sky announced, causing the writer to groan.
"Grips?" Chris followed up, taking a few steps to the other team. "Now remember, this is an important choice. Whoever gets the upper hand here could win the whole challenge!"
"Because of that," Brick announced, "we're picking MK." The techno girl gulped.
"Today's first game is," Chris announced as he walked back over to the covered cart, "the Prison Chow-llenge!" A few deep notes played as he grabbed the cover and whipped it away, revealing the stinking, rotting, half eaten food lying beneath. "Each team of prison chefs whips up the foulest, nastiest, most barf-inducing slop this side of Alcatraz," he explained as the camera moved in for a close-up of the 'food', then cut to a cringing Brick and a again to a somewhat surprised-looking Anne Maria.
"Millie and MK have to stomach as much as they can," the host explained. "Last one to power-hurl wins!"
"Technically, this isn't an actual prison," Millie said as Chef herded her into the cage closest to the Grips. "If I was, I'd be protesting how unfair my “arrest” is."
"That's what some of them say," Chris told her with a smile as the door slammed shut and the camera pulled back, showing that MK had been locked up as well.
Confessional: Millie
"I'm not exactly hyped for this," Millie confessed uncertainly. "With the exception of the Brunch of Disgustingness, I'm not the kind to eat gross food, and I don't plan on doing so in the future, but since I've already been nominated, I might as well just suck it up."
Confessional Ends
The camera panned across the Grips' table, showing only a handful of dishes filled with unidentifiable mush. "This just keeps getting worse and worse!" Millie said as she looked at it in horror.
"The reward better be worth it," MK said from her cage.
"Have I ever let you down?" Chris asked before quickly adding "Wait! Scratch that!" He smiled before continuing. "Anyway, the winning team gets this!" He held up a golden shovel, which gleamed in the light.
"A shovel?" Millie asked skeptically. “Seriously?”
Confessional: Jasmine
"Given what I know about confinement cells, I think I know what the next part of the challenge will be," Jasmine told the confessional camera. "If it's digging, then we have to believe that Millie will pull through for us."
Confessional Ends
"Prisoners ready?" Chris called from between the two cages. "Aaaand, culinate!"
The host continued his rapid commentary as the Gaffers were shown making their first moves around a large bowl of something brown. "Ripper goes right for the roaches. Chase tops it off with some moldy pineapple slices and oh! Here come the horse lips!" The burly boy dropped his ingredient into the bowl and walked away while the daredevil stuffed the pineapples into the bowl and grabbed some horse lips in order to add them in.
Sky approached the table from the other side. “Where did you even get these things?” the athlete asked.
"I found some leftover pineapples from the beach party," Chase told her before they left the table.
“Gross, but effective,” Sky said.
Scott arrived with his wife beater taken off and in his hands. “This oughta be good,” he snickered as he twisted his cloth and squeezed out all the sweat into the bowl. After doing so, he put his wife beater back on his bare chest.
The camera cut over to the Grips as Justin took some dead hair out of his pockets and put them into his team's bowl. "Looks like Justin is sacrificing some of his dead hair," Chris commented as Jasmine stepped forward with a cheese grater and a moldy onion, "and Jasmine adds a topping of ripe onion." The Australian woman quickly grated the onion and walked away as Anne Maria walked up to the bowl.
"Remember," Brick whispered to the Jersey girl, "we're trying to make the food gross, not tasty."
"I know that, which is why I'm throwing out these expired lip gloss," Anne Maria said as she took out two sticks of lip gloss and put them in the bowl, followed by her using her spray can on it.
"Time's up!" Chris announced suddenly and with a grin. "And jailbirds, hope your appetites are primed!"
"Hope you're not feeling queasy today," Jasmine said with a smirk as she delivered her team's bowl of white-and-moldy 'food' over to MK.
"Here is what me and my team put together," Chase said as he walked past to take a bowl of something mostly brown to Millie. “Sorry if it grosses you out, babe.”
"This looks," Millie said before gulping, "uh, incredibly...not so bad..."
"Are you maggots ready?" Chris asked excitedly. The shot cut to a close-up of maggots squirming beneath the white mush, the camera zooming out to show a horrified MK. "One minute to down that chow! Aaaaanndd...Dig in!"
The hacker took a spoonful of prison food and forced it into her mouth, cringing and shuddering immediately.
Confessional: MK
"I don't even know how the contestants could go through the Brunch of Disgustingness without dying last season," MK admitted in the make-up trailer. "I clearly don't have the iron stomach for this challenge, even after eating Chef's grossening excuse for food for two seasons."
Confessional Ends
The footage cut back to Millie as she hesitantly plunged the first spoonful into her mouth. She swallowed it whole and moaned. "What did you even put in this? Anchovy paste?"
"Not gonna answer," Ripper snorted cruelly.
Millie took another spoonful, and after a pause, she opened her mouth and pulled out a moldy pineapple slice. She shuddered again and flung it away from her.
A quick-pan over to MK showed the short girl forcing her way through her own meal. "Don't think about it," she said with a disgusted grimace after a swallow. "Do not think about it!" She took another bite, shuddered, and swallowed.
Seeing her struggle, Scott quickly conducted a plan. "Wow, who knew Millie had such a strong stomach?" he said to his team. "Especially after I squeezed all of my sweat into the bowl!"
“What?!” Millie's eyes went wide as she dropped her bowl of food to the ground with an off-screen splat. She vomited moments later, in a stream that hit a stunned MK in the head.
"MK keeps it down for the Screaming Gaffers," Chris announced over a piece of triumphant music, "and wins the reward!"
The Gaffers cheered, Sky holding the golden shovel in her hand.
"Hey Chris, can I throw up now?" MK asked as Chris let her out.
"As long as you don't get any puke on my hair and below, go right ahead," Chris told her.
"Cool," MK said, holding her stomach as she walked out of her cage. The moment the host left, she turned around and grabbed the side of her former cell, and puked right into it.
"Are you gonna be alright?" Sky asked as she and Scott walked over to her.
"Yeah," MK said after she turned around. "I was just waiting for Millie to puke her guts out."
"And because of me, she did it much faster," Scott gloated. “My sweat came through for us.
“You didn't need to say it out loud,” Sky told her teammate. “That was sort of cheating.”
"You say cheating, we say getting an advantage," MK said before getting queasy again. "Now can you excuse me for a sec?" Without waiting for a response, she turned back around and puked again.
The camera cut to Chef on another part of the set. "Sir, we may not have won," Brick said as he ran over to the cook, "but I can take pride in the fact that we created a meal that even you wouldn't eat."
"You've still got more to learn!" Chef shouted.
“Pardon?” Brick grew confused.
“Pride and two bucks will get you a cup of coffee!” Chef said. “What a man really needs is loyalty, and you clearly came through for your team. If it wasn't for the sweat thing, you would've won!”
“Thank you?” Brick said confusingly.
Chef placed a hand on his shoulder. “I was once like you. Young, weird, kinda ugly. But you've got a gift. Now own it. Don't let it go to waste. Like I did,” he sniffled and returned to his gruff state. “Meet me in the kitchen after the challenge. You're on permanent KP duty, soldier,” he said as he left.
Confessional: Brick
“I had no idea Chef could show empathy towards me, and though I don't like going against my morals by doing this secret alliance, that was the highlight,” Brick said with a smile.
Confessional Ends
(Commercial Break)

So i was curious why everyone thinks the Cathay dragon Yin-Yin is going to have lore of beasts, so i decided to look up the og theory by and i realized it lined up a lot with the theories i made based off of the in game mechanics, so i decided to add in some of the mythology into my post. Also while we are here, i started writing this before shadows of change, then decided to wait until Yuan Bo was released to see how it impacted by speculative nonsense. Was kinda disillusioned with Cathay after Yuan Bo was fairly different to what everyone expected and so i took a break from Cathay for a while. As a result some of this might sound weird due to it being rewritten several times.
(https://www.reddit.com/totalwacomments/ppg76c/theories\_about\_the\_dragon\_princesprincesses\_the/)
----HEADS UP: there is gonna be a TLDR after each specific LL, You will thank me later----
The Mythological inspirations for the dragons
So for anyone who didn't click on the link to the mythology post that inspired this (for shame). The Dragon siblings seem to be inspired by the 4 symbols (don't worry there are 5 of them). Each of the 4 symbols (again of which there are 5) is associated with a direction and one of the 5 elements from the Wuxing cycle.
The wuxing cycle is made up of 5 elements, the mechnanics of the cycle themselves don't seem to matter too much (yet?) just the actual elements since each of the 5 elements matches up with what lores of magic the dragons favour so far.
The in-game and lore Harmony of magic (so far)
Lore wise (the "facts" lore not the term for magic lore), the Yin and Yang lores of magic are each made up of 4 of the elemental winds. Yin is formed from the winds of beasts, metal, death, shadows while Yang is formed from Life, fire, heavens, light. Each lore is effectively one half of high magic (the lizardmen and high/wood elf lore of magic) since High magic is made from using all 8 winds at once. Probably not worth noting but in my research i also found that high elves have a
The Dragons siblings (until Yuan Bo) have had a 50/50 split between Yin and Yang spells with 3 of each. Miao Ying has 3 life spells (a sub lore of yang) and 3 yin spells, While Zhao Ming has 3 metal spells (a sub lore of Yin) and 3 yang spells. Interestingly it seems that the Dragon siblings use the elemental sub-lore of the parent they get along with more, Miao Ying has a Yang sub lore and gets on great with her father, the master of yang while Zhao has the opposite, favouring a sub-lore of Yin while being his mother's favourite.
As for Yuan Bo, while he uses a mix of 4 lores of magic unlike Zhao and Miao, 2 light, 1 heavens, 2 Yin and 1 Yang, He does still loosely follow the pattern still. Yuan Bo still uses 3 elemental spells and 3 Yin/Yang spells so while he isn't split along the lines of Yin/Yang evenly, he does still have a 50/50 split in his spells. Interstingly even tho Yuan Bo has 4 different lores on hand, he only has the lore atrributes for 2 of those lores, heavens (his "main" lore given he runs is incharge of the astromancers) and the lore of Yin passive (sub lore of yang and the lore of Yin).
Overall it seems that there is a pattern of dragons having a 50/50 mix of elemental spells and Yin/Yang lores with only the spell atrribute from their favourite elemental lore and the Yin/Yang atrribute from the lore that their favourite elementl lore doesn't contribute too.
TLDR: The dragons (so far) have a themed pattern in what spells they can use and their lore passives.
Who are the other Dragons?
In case You haven't dug through the Cathay lore, the 2 dragon siblings not missing/dead in lore and not yet in game are: Li Dao the fire dragon and Yin Yin the sea dragon. There is also the Monkey King coming alongside them at some point, so without further a do, lets get into it.
Miao Ying The Storm Dragon
So according to the mythology theory, each of the dragons is inspired by one of the 4 symbols. Miao Ying is theorised to be inspired by the Black Tortoise. The Black Tortoise is associated with Water, the north, endurance and protecting the previously mentioned north. It's easy to see why the black dragon Miao Ying is likely inspired by said symbol, even more so when you look into warhammer lore.
In warhammer lore, Cathay refers to the lore of life as the lore of water. That is because wizards who use the lore of life can manipulate freshwater due to it's necessity and connection to life, the wind of life it's self is also described to move like water by those with witch sight. Hence the reason Miao Ying, uses lore of life spells, due to her being the storm dragon.
As for Miao Ying's actual lore, she is the oldest of the Dragon siblings and said to be the Emperor's favourite. Her main job is guarding the Great Bastion in the north since that is where the first threats to Cathay came from and she was the first of the dragons. The other main thing Miao Ying is in charge of is the forges of Nan-Gau and it's development of war machines. Miao Ying doesn't seem to be very involved with the process of inventing and gives the master artificers a great deal of personal freedom leading to some infighting. Miao seems to take a direct yang styled approach to problems, putting any rebel lords in their place and just throwing bodies and artillery at chaos incursions. Miao is described as cold and aloof perhaps because she has had to shoulder burdens on her own without any siblings.
Mechanically Miao Ying focuses on buffing ranged units which fits well with her Capital being Cathay's main source of guns as well as her Yin focus. Miao Ying also gets bonuses for fighting the forces of chaos and corruption which fits with her being in charge of holding the big wall. The starting Cathay rebels nearby is thematic for the scheming human lords but there isn't really a mechanic that does deeper than that. Nothing too fancy, she's a base game lord.
TLDR: Miao Ying is the (self-proclaimed?) favourite child of the Emperor, she is in charge of defending the great bastion and most of Cathay's gun/war machine construction. Lore of Life and Yin, tho there is a chance CA will revisit her down the line and give her a more diverse spell list or more mechanics. Miao Ying keeps her people in line with brute force and open threats but as long as the artificer lords serving her don't rebel or disobey her orders, she leaves them to their own devices.
Zhao Ming The Iron Dragon
A reminder i have the flair "alchemist of Zhao Ming" so you know, expect some simping bias in this next section.
In the mythology department, Zhao Ming appears to be inspired by the "White Tiger". Like all of the 4 symbols the White Tiger is associated with both a cardinal direction and an element/phase of the Wuxing cycle. In the White Tiger's case this is the West direction, where Zhao Ming guards and the element of metal which Zhao Ming champions. The White Tiger is believed to symbolise power and armies, accordingly Zhao Ming is shown to be much more involved with his soldiers than the other Dragons. It's also been theorised that since his troops are seemingly recruited from the much more rowdy desert clans, than the cities and villages where the other Dragons get their troops, thus requiring more military focus.
Zhao Ming's love of warpstone is inspired by mixing the mythology of the White Tiger and warhammer lore. As previously mentioned the White Tiger is associated with metal and in warhammer lore, wizards who practice the lore of metal, also known as alchemists in some circles, usually develop an obsession with warpstone. Warpstone's nature as being literally pure condensed chaos/warp gives it many abilities including the power to turn other metals into gold which is one of the key end-goals of all alchemy.
Speaking of alchemists, Zhao Ming controls the "house of secrets" said to be a dark mirror of the celestial court where illegal magics are used in place of the lore of heavens. While in game the house of secrets is only formed of lore of metal wizards, Zhao Ming's lore blurb in the expanded unit browers states he shealters lore of Fire wizards as well.
Since the SOC dlc showed us that several units in the Cathay army hail from the banner of the Celestial Court and that the House of secrets is said to be a dark mirror, there may be some units not yet in game that are house of secrets themed. What could those units be? Beyond the fire version alchemists, i have no clue it's called the house of secrets for a reason. The biggest possible curveball i can think of would be the elemental incarnate of fire, we already have the incarnate of beasts so it's safe to assume that the other 2 incarnates (death and fire) will show up at some point and Zhao likes fire wizards too. Zhao Ming could also have some nomadic units missing since most of his people are nomads but we haven't seen any of those in game yet.
Interestingly the lore of metal is the elemental lore of magic most connected to Tzeentch as it is all about changing metals into other metals (lead to gold, etc) and Tzeentch is all about change. The lore of fire on the other hand is one of the other 3 lores of magic used by chaos warbands. Shadows and death are both connected to Slannesh and Nurgle respectively but fire is different. The Lore of Fire would be Khornes favoured lore because he loves flames and stuff but he hates magic so the lore of fire is considered to be the generic chaos lore that all the gods dip into using. Meaning the 2 types of elemental wizards Zhao Ming protects are the 2 types that Tzeentch armies would tradditionally recruit for open warfare.
Is Zhao Ming's protection giving the wizards most at risk of Tzeentch corruption a way out from the persecution and not be driven into the arms of Tzeentch? Or is he just letting Tzeentch agents hide in plain sight? Honestly it's prob a bit of both. Yuan Bo may be right about a decent number of those wizards but those he is wrong about, would be forced to join chaos or perish if it weren't for Zhao Ming's House of Secrets.
Zhao in terms of lore is (despite being a mad scientist who snorts warpstone and one of the only Dragons to regularly drink,) somehow the most subtle of the dragons. Unlike Miao Ying, Zhao Ming favours diplomatic solutions over just throwing bodies at problems. The main example of this is his treaties with the ogres however the way he interacts with his soldiers is also potentially diplomatic. Zhao Ming as many of you may know likes to join his troops for a drink and even laughs at jokes at his own expense unlike the other dragon siblings.
Some have suggested that this means Zhao acts more human than the other dragons, however personally when i first read his actual lore, i got the impression Zhao Ming is not more human than the other Dragons, simply better at faking it. That Zhao thinks his troops, recruited mostly from the nomadic tribes won't take him seriously or work at their full potential if stifled by the iron handed discipline of main Cathay, so he meets them on their level. Zhao Ming is a people person, he makes concessions for the nomads joining his forces, talks out deals with ogres, runs the main (at least in terms of land routes so far) trade hub in Cathay, plays host and sets up areas to cater to dogs of war visiting his city and speaks out for some of the non heavens elemental wizards in Cathay. He talks his way through most problems and reads people to try and get the most benefit for Cathay.
Zhao Ming while reckless and likely overexposed to warpstone, is far more cunning and manipulative than most people give him credit. Turning pillaging ogres into peaceful neighbours and mercenaries for his cause, even setting up a dedicated visitors district in is capital for them. Using rogue outcast wizards to strengthen the great bastion's stone work via alchemical secrets. Making nomads who would have little identity as part of central Cathay see him as one of their own and not some stuffy upstart who looks down on them and needs to be overthrown. Only the more indirect threats to his rule, the cults and skaven who spend most of their time hiding from the Dragons remain in Zhao Ming's land, everyone who poses a direct or open threat has been slowly subverted into one of Zhao Ming's pawns. I can kind of understand why the Emperor might not like him, every chance he gets, he talks his problems out instead of throwing a meteor at it like a true wizard of Cathay. But despite his favour of the diplomatic approach, Zhao Ming has an iron grasp on the western provinces. It looks like Miao Ying and Zhao Ming are the favourite children because they have absolute authority in their domains, one through the direct, disciplined Yang style of the Emperor and the other through the Yin cunning of the Empress
For Zhao's gameplay he is pretty straight forward. The Iron dragon focuses on ogre mercs and bonuses to cargo convoys, again supporting his more subtle diplomatic approaches from lore. He also has bonuses to getting magical items and wields the same abilities as his alchemists representing the fruit of his House of secrets. Beyond that Zhao Ming supports melee units to counter balance Miao Ying's ranged support and pushing that whole harmony thing. He is a bit basic but he is also a base game lord so that's kinda to be expected, his gameplay does seem to back up his lore and mythological inspirations tho.
TLDR: Cathay's mad scientist and suprisingly great diplomat, he solves as many of his problems as he can through his wits and cunning, perfering to talk his problems away, hence why the Moon Empress loves him and the bolder face-on yang loving Emperor cares less for him. He leads the nomadic people of the western provinces and the house of secrets, shealtering lore of fire and metal wizards from Yuan Bo. Tho he lacks any units specific to his faction in game, like Miao Ying CA could revisit down the line for unique mechanics.
Yuan Bo the Jade dragon
Yuan Bo is mythologically inspired by the 5th symbol of the 4 symbols (don't worry it's the optional one). The Yellow dragon is associated with the centre, rather than a cardinal direction like the other 4 symbols, as well as the element of Earth. He is said to represent the Emperor in mythology which fits Yuan Bo perfectly.
Yuan Bo of course runs Cathay's central government when the Emperor is away and is often confused for the Emperor by outsiders in lore. So that tracks, he is also incharge of the celestial court aka the astromancers of cathay, the only legal wizards besides the dragonblooded elite. His also makes sense with the Yellow dragon being associated with stone as in warhammer lore Cathay calls the lore of heavens, lore of stone.
Why is it called the lore of stone, perhaps because the Emperor used it heavily while he created the great bastion and terracotta sentinels out of stone? personally i choose to believe it's because GW didn't want people confused on Cathay's magic pre-game 3 and so told every writier that mentioned Cathay doing magic to make it explicitly clear that Cathay only uses magic never seen before in the west and lore of heavens. Then as a result of that, writiers only used the most iconic lore of heavens spell when ever Cathay fought, the comet of casandora, every single fight, giving Cathay a "chuck a rock at it till it goes away mentality". The Emperor and bastion option is more likely but my headcanon Cathay's love of throwing rocks amuses me.
In terms of his other lores, like Miao Ying and Zhao Ming, he only has passives for heavens and Yin, which follows their pattern of one sub-lore of yin/yang for their main element and the reverse yin/yang lore as well. Tho Yuan Bo mixes things up by having both Yang/Yin spells and the lore of light as well which makes sense since it's the anti-daemon lore and he is incharge of rooting out tzeentch cults.
As the leader of the celestial court, Yuan Bo fields mostly astromancers and their associated units, constructs. If you didn't know; the lore blurbs on Cathay techs imply that the celestial court is incharge of maintaining and repairing the terracotta sentinels in the base game and are actively searching for ways to restore them to their full power. Another reason why Cathay might call the lore of heavens; the lore of stone, those who use it repair the stone warriors of Cathay. His other units include the Great Moonbirds which Astromancers have been known to tame, the purified manficores are in a similar situation. The final celestial court unit is the crowmen, which are elementals of Yin and act as spies for Yuan Bo.
There could be more celestial court units in a future DLC as the spies/hidden Yin side of the celestial court hasn't really been shown outside of the crowmen. Besides the celestial court, Yuan Bo also uses wardrums and gate guards which are part of Yuan Bo's bureaucratic duties. CA stated that they had to look outside of the celestial court when adding new units to SOC with the greatmoon bird because nothing in the celestial court fit the role of a big flier which is what CA and the community felt Cathay needed at the time. So that implies there are other units under the celestial court's banner just none who are single entity fliers.
For Yuan Bo's gameplay, he uses his matters of state and manipulates his foes through covert and administrative actions. Just like his lore, he manages Cathay's government and spy network, he mostly spends his time however trying to hijack the geomantic web to improve the Wu Xing compass and empower whatever ritual the Dragon Emperor is working on. Little weird he focuses on Lizardmen so much but eh?
TLDR: Yuan Bo is the central administrator of Cathay, spymaster and leader of the celestial court. He believes himself to be the favoured child dispite what Miao Ying claims. He appears to be the dragon sibling that gets called into sort out the other dragon's messes. He likes to use subterfuge to achive his goals but he likes to use brute force to solve issues when he can. The celestial court that he over sees probably has more unseen units so we might see those in the future for other dragons siblings.
Welp reaching the character limit and only about half way, to the comment section i guess?

Re-done version of a previous fanscript bc I wanted to add more classic literature - enjoy :) (also, this one is set in season 2 and stars the Powercast girls almost exclusively, it was a lot of fun)
Scene: Wednesday and Enid are hanging about in their room, both reading - first upside down in her armchair, latter lying on her belly across her bed. There's a knock on the door.
Enid: Come in!
Bianca: (peeks in) Hey.
They greet her. Thing waves at her friendlily.
Bianca: (entering) Just wanted to drop by and ask if there's been any news from the town.
Wednesday: None. No new sighthings at all.
Bianca: Ah. Alright. (she waits for another moment, then turns to leave)
Enid: Wait.
Bianca turns to her.
Enid: You can stay for a bit.
Bianca: Actually, I have to ... (she stills for a moment, thinking) ... you know what, that's fine.
She walks over to Enid, who pats on the bed next to her, smiling. She sits down, fetching her phone.
Bianca: The fencing club is getting new equipment today, but ... I'll see it soon enough. I'll ask Davinia and Yoko to unpack it. If they don't mind.
Enid: (shrugs) Quality couple time, time for you to relax a bit. I think you can use it.
Bianca: What do you mean?
Enid: (nods at her hands holding the phone - her nailbeds are sore from picking at them)
Bianca: (a little somber) That's nothing.
Enid looks at her, then finishes typing something on her phone and moves to the back of the bed as the conversation continues
Wednesday: I'm afraid they still won't lift the curfew any time soon.
Bianca: (chuckles) Oh, no - that stays until next year, I'd say.
Enid: (getting back up, sitting down next to Bianca) Come on, I can't see this.
She unscrews a small, new tube of salve and takes Bianca's right hand, starting to apply it on the wounds. Bianca looks at her surprised, and her hand trembles for a moment - but then she decides to not pull it away. She looks ahead, sighing a little. Then she turns to her other hand - Thing presses it, avoiding the sore parts. She smiles a little.
Bianca: I didn't expect this level of friendliness in this room.
Wednesday: Insufferable, isn't it?
Enid: (snorts)
Wednesday: Do you want to say something?
Enid: (looking at her) Do you want me to?
They stare at each other for a moment, then first turns back to her book. Enid smiles, turning back to her work while Bianca holds back laughter.
Bianca: What are you reading?
Wednesday: (closes the book, revealing it to be "Catching Fire", the second Hunger Games installment)
Bianca: (does something between a gasp and a chuckle) Mainstream and YA? Addams, I'm shocked!
Wednesday: Enid suggested it.
Enid: I'm reading Dracula meanwhile.
Bianca: Really?
Enid: (chuckles) Didn't expect what I'd be given.
Wednesday: Journal entries and newspaper articles I thought would be to her taste. I'm glad I didn't have to search for long.
Bianca:: Huh. To be honest, reading letters or retold stories in a book always sounded with me really well.
Wednesday: I did like that element in Frankenstein. And Pride and Prejudice.
Bianca: (chuckles) No way. Jane Austen too, Addams? Do tell.
Wednesday: (looks at her)
Bianca: And not the added Zombies version, right? You went for the original.
Wednesday: Nothing more painful that reading about the english upper class. Besides, am I not allowed to like well-written dialogue?
Bianca: I was going to say, Austen is pretty smart usually.
Wednesday: The characters are for sure. Usually.
Enid: Also, Austen likes her protagonists to learn something without them being stupid.
Bianca: You don’t see that granted one often for sure.
Enid: It’s like the old Barbie movies. (she’s done with Bianca’s right hand and moves on to the left one)
Wednesday: What?
Bianca: Said by someone who’s never seen one.
Wednesday: Do tell yourself now, Barclay.
Bianca: Barbie’s usually a pretty good role model. I can’t remember an installment where she’s not clever or very hands-on when it comes to the plot.
Enid: Word. People come to her for help, and she can usually provide it until she needs some herself.
Wednesday: Huh.
Enid: Plus, those movies’ humour is underrated.
Bianca: Indeed. Still can’t get over the added bloopers.
Enid: Love those. (finishes applying the salve on her other hand)
Bianca: (quietly) Thank you.
Enid smiles. Bianca lies backwards onto the bed, looking at them.
Enid: (murmurs) Yeah, good idea.
She lies down next to her and they’re all quiet for a moment. Then Enid moves to turn around so she can lean her heels against the wall a bit. Bianca follows suit, relaxing.
Wednesday: I once came across a book called “Winter’s Bone”. The protagonist also can take care of herself really well, but she needs the help of others to get by still, and to solve her father’s disappearance.
Bianca: I remember that one. It’s really about the need of people of each other.
Wednesday: (looks at her) Interesting perspective.
Bianca: (shrugs) The whole story happens because she’s fighting to keep her loved ones, and protect them. And everyone else kinda rely on each other as well. Even when they try to get by themselves, they still need each other. That has an effect on the story a few significant times.
Enid: Yeah…
Bianca: (chuckles)
Wednesday: What now?
Bianca: I just remembered the movie adaptation was what launched the main actress into the Hunger Games.
Wednesday: Really? (looks at the book) Fitting.
Enid: Really was. And they stuck to the books like crazy. (she sighs, looking at the Dracula book lying around nearby) Wish that was more normal.
Bianca: (follows her look) I think I remember they ruined Lucy, right?
Enid: Mina as well. For the usual reasons. Too strong and active and too nice respectively.
Bianca: Hm.
They lie on the bed for a moment, looking at the ceiling.
Wednesday: We could have less of that. (thinks a moment) Enid?
Enid: Yes?
Wednesday: (lifts up her book) What did this series’ adaptation do concerning Prim?
Enid: Well, they didn’t add her skill and ability to focus as a healer that her mother has too in film 1, but they added it significantly in the second one… so you get the impression Prim matured this way when Katniss was absent, which still works for me.
Bianca: And that she’s just not a hunter like her sister, but a really needed healer. Which is great. The series does point out that everyone is good at something else. And how much Katniss needs her as the story goes on. By the end, their roles are almost reversed.
Wednesday: Slow down, I’m still in part 2.
Bianca: (chuckles) Sorry.
Enid: I’m glad you enjoy it this much.
Bianca: (raises her hands) While we’re at healing, this feels really good.
Enid: Yeah – I’m more of a healer than a hunter too, I guess. (sighs)
Bianca: Well, didn’t we just say that’s a good thing?
Enid looks at her, then smiles. Bianca returns it.
Bianca: (shows her her hands) Case in point.
Enid: You know what else is healing? (she fetches her phone) Any preferences for a playlist?
Wednesday: (sighs) Headphones.
Enid: Headphones?
Wednesday: (sighs again) Headphones please.
Enid: (smiles)
Bianca: Maybe some Disney?
Enid: (beams at her) Coming right up!
They relax back on the bed and Enid starts the playlist. They stare at the ceiling. The first song comes on – it’s “Mother knows best” from Rapunzel. They both cringe their noses. After a moment, Enid fetches her phone back and seeks the shuffle button.
Enid: Do you mind?
Bianca: No! Really not.
They look at each other for a moment – not saying anything, but seeing something in the other they understand. Enid presses the button and cuts the song of at “Mother knows-“. The next one is the reprise of “Part of your world” from “The Little Mermaid”. They both relax at it a little. Wednesday looks over at them, with a gentle look, and turns back to her book. After a moment however, she decides to fetch her own headphones and get some white noise to reading. Outside, Xavier opens the door to the balcony and comes walking towards the window. He looks to see if the girls are home, and sees Enid and Bianca chilling on the bed, having closed their eyes. As he looks closer, surprised and even raising an eyebrow at this, Thing slams against the glass flatly. He jumps back startled. The hand signals him to go away.
Xavier: Why?
Thing: (smacks the glass twice firmly)
Xavier: Ugh, fine! (he walks away)
Inside, the girls stir a little. They remove their headphones.
Enid: Did you hear something?
Wednesday and Bianca: (hear the door slam in the distance and exchange a look) No.
They go back to their music.

Hi yall, first time user here. Bought some raw kanna yesterday from a local herb shop and I'm really impressed. Tried snorting it yesterday and had a giggly evening, very subtle effects but a very noticable mood lift.
Today I smoked it with weed and wow! It completely killed the headiness I usually experience. Feels similar to when I used to be on SSRIs and got high. Which for me, was the only good thing about SSRIs. Definetly gonna pair this with bud more often. Cheers yall, so glad to have discovered kanna. I dont remember the last time I've laughed this hard..

[OC Intro: The game is modded to increase basic jobs cost, seasonal events are disabled. Much of the crash details are based on NASA/SP-2008-565 Columbia Crew Survival Investigation Report recommendations especially Chapter 3 "Occupant Protection".]
The ship is without power, and Tightniks can't run the radar much without draining the batteries. He has only a few minutes of APU power left, goes over the best clearing he can find, and radars it. It varies by only a few feet from the aerodynamic glideslope there. He spots it out on the cameras and circles to go after that spot. He's only at two hundred feet now. With one hand on the stick, he uses the other to open the pressure equalization valve on the side hatch, then at one hundred feet, gets it undogged. Depending on how much damage he's going to get, it's less likely to be stuck closed and trap him. The dynamic vacuum this pulls in the cockpit rips most of the survival pack data cards from that rack and scatters them across the landscape. Crap, I'm gonna need those! Refocusing on surviving the next few seconds, he turns on the radar for the final approach, takes a last look around, then straight ahead at his forward camera and PFD, he clicks his HANS and shoulder strap locks in; after that, he can barely move, but that now is better than dying in this crash with a broken neck. He's a decent pilot and brings up the flare gently. Bringing up the alpha on this delta-winged ship, he balloons a little, but keeps the nose going up and restores a zero aerodynamic sink rate just above the highest terrain indicated by the radar altimeter. The ship bumps a little in the ground effect, and he can see the radar altitude cycling irregularly up and down about five feet at a time. Rougher than it looked from higher up! The body flap protecting the dead engines hits first, and the nose comes rapidly down. It hits, the screens go blank, and Tightniks is surrounded by airbags, some lifting his feet from the rudder petals and his hand from the control stick. It's blinding, it's disorienting, it's noisy, and, to his relief, it's long! It takes several seconds before the crashing cockpit stops moving. How many times did he flip over? Did he go sideways and roll? Am I rightside up? Are we really stopped on the ground? The airbags deflate, and he can move his arms. He gets his restraints loose and inspects himself. "Uck!" he says out loud (without the 'f'). No broken bones. His pressure suit can take his blood pressure. 116/81, pulse 112, blood oxygen 99 reads off on his left arm, I'll friggin' take it!
The ship is amazingly intact from what he can tell. He can't get any readings. The systems test meter seems to be working, but can't find any voltages anywhere. The ship seems to be completely dead. Behind him, 10 passenger seats are all surrounded by airbags and the back of the cabin ends in some sort of dirt-and-gravel and there's a bit of daylight seeping in around the edges. He was the only one on board, though, so their deployment was mostly academic (they might have stiffened the structure a little during the crash, but that's probably trivial.) Tightniks gets out of his spacesuit. The air on this planet is actually breathable. He gets the hatch open, steps outside and-
"A green shimmer erupts then disappears, and you hit the ground."
The human emerges from the glowing green mist and hits the ground. Groans. Pushes against that ground, trying to get back up. Where am I? What's my name? I remember nothing. Aren't babies born naked? He's got a dark blue button-down shirt on. A uniform? A shoulder patch. Gets up, looks around. I feel really heavy. I'm not that fat, am I? He picks up a small stone from the ground, this also feels heavier than it should. He rises to his feet and holds it out somewhat (he's unable to fully extend his arm) and lets it go. The stone hits the ground near his feet quickly and with remarkable speed. It's the gravity, it's greater than it is on- ...where am I from? This is- ...not my home planet? "Oooh..."
"Ka?" it says.
What is that? It's cute, at least.
It is not tame. He has no hope of catching it on foot. The creature seems to like the berries. Maybe if I gather some of those into one place and set some kind of trap...
33s: First trap.
I got one! The human lumbers up to the trap and gets the catch open. Do you bite? It doesn't matter much to me; I'm so friggin' screwed.
It doesn't. It looks at the human with a sense of wonder, actually. A blink and tilt of the head. Seems almost to be asking, Is it you? My purpose? My savior? Once out of the trap, which is totally wrecked, he has to make a new one from scratch, it follows him around like a imprinted hatchling bird.
Wiry little fella, you are. You're going to need some bulking up to do anything useful. The- ...'trimp', I guess... The trimp seems just barely able to feed itself. The human lets him into the broken ship's intact cabin, and it curls up comfortably in a passenger seat for a nap.
1m03s: Second trap.
"Apparently the Trimps breed if they're not working. Doesn't look pleasant."
What are they doing?
The trimps appear to be androgynous, and these two have paired off in the back of the ship. They're holding something carefully within a few hours, feeding it berries, grass, and- ...corundum.
Corundum?? Whatever that is, it isn't a baby.
1m35s: Third trap.
Only it IS a baby! The third trimp he trapped immediately joined the other two in raising it. They have a strange diet of food the human has found compatible with his own body, but they also eat rocks! They're careful to crush and sort aluminate minerals from silcate ones and only eat aluminate. Actually, they don't eat aluminate, they're only feeding it to the baby.
2m06s: Fourth trap.
All four are raising the same child, who is just starting to toddle. It seems these fellas have alumina or maybe even aluminum bones. The human takes a nap and wakes to find the first child grown up and they're starting to raise a second child, all five of them.
2m46s: Huts.
The human found a working bit of electronics. He calls it a pad, but maybe it's more like a smartphone. It has plans for two residential structures. The first, the smaller one, he can build right away, but the second one needs something called "drywall", and he has to figure out how to make that before he can build it. Huts and houses, apparently.
3m13s: 10 pop, full, first farmer.
The trimp he trained to farm and make paper took an incredible 50 units of food to get bulked up to do the work, and now it's not participating in rearing the child. But less than an hour after the trimp started farming and pulping, the child was out on its own, and the trimps did not start another. The ten seats on the ship were all full. Well, eleven counting the one up front that the human sleeps in. The pilot starts exploring the area.
3m28s: Battle.
Wait, what are you do-
The hostile roars and charges at the human, but one of his trimps jumps in front of him with a stick and they fight. It started right when the human got far enough away from the ship that the hostile non-trimps away from the ship began to regard him as leaving his own territory. After the trimp defeats the first enemy, it continues after other hostiles.
3m53s: Shield I in Z1c5.
The human is easily able to recover the loot in the territory cleared by the fighting trimp. Then he sees something glinting in the- That can't be! What the heck is that? It's a data card that fits his pad. It quite clearly regards trimp combat. He gets it loaded into his pad and studies it. I can do this, it just takes some wood. He returns to the ship to discover that they had already started on a new child before the fighter had even expired in battle. The human concentrates on his research.
4m38s: Mskel in Z1c11 defeated.
The remains of this one seem rather white and shiny. It's titanium! This enemy had titanium bones! He'll store them away. They'll be useful someday, I'm sure.
5m52s: Dagger I in Z1c20.
Where are these data cards coming from? The human wonders as he loads this one into his pad, It's for a weapon it calls a dagger. He blinks. I don't know what a dagger is. I'll take your word for it, data card. Needs metal. He has gathered some, but ore is plentiful. He can just dig and smelt it whenever he wants. For now, I'll continue researching.
6m18s: Arable in Z1c21.
It's an old cave that trimps like to live in. Why weren't they able to live there before? How could these friendly critters be confined to only the exact spot where THAT thing, he looks back where he came from, not remembering that he piloted the wrecked ship to its current resting place, crashed? This is really strange. I'll let them fill up this cave before advancing further. Wait, what about defenses? The hostiles never try to reclaim territory that they've lost, so he stops worrying about that fairly quickly.
8m22s: First hut is 0.3% first ever AP.
The trimps seem fairly easy to please in terms of living quarters. Two move into his first hut and start raising a child. The human has his tent, uniform, and the heater pilfered from his space suit. Not much of a mud fan.
9m59s: Miners in Z1c30.
Oh, what's on this data card? Sl3niw? Oh, I'm holding the pad upside down. Miners. I can teach trimps how to mine ores and smelt met- 200 units of food? Each job is getting more expensive to train a trimp for. He puts his bee nickels to his eyes and spots another data card probably 10 enemies away. "Sc"? Does that means science? I can teach trimps to do science??
13m57s: Scientists in Z1c40.
Due to the expense of training trimps, the human couldn't afford to build them shields until now, he's got Sh1-3 made for the fighter to capture the science training data card. 14m02s: One head went into that turtlimp shell, that of his fighter, but two came out: his fighter still has his head on, and he managed to get the turtlimp's head off. It rushes off after the deadly penguimp in the next cell. The shields are not doing all that much good, actually, but they're better than nothing. The human picks up and loads the science data card and- Holy runny sugar-free fudge crap! 1000 food units, but it'll endow them with the ability to speak. Good. I'm getting bored with no one to talk to.
14m28s: Bloodlust purchased and AutoFight enabled (that delay after getting it is an effect of jacking up the job cost.)
As the human buries this expired little trimp warrior, he comes to the sobering realization that he has more trimp graves in his growing trimp colony than he does live trimps. And yet they seem more hopeful now than before I got to know any of them. They seem to think I'm the solution to all their problems or- Those two look east somberly, then notice that he's watching them and smile back and wave at him. ...one problem that is specific, but very, very huge for them. [The only reason I say 'east' is because that's right on a map, and the game advances right across a row, then up. I might say 'northeast' on occasion for that reason.]
20m47s: Z1c73, Miners taken.
Are you my new mining foreman? The trimp who took to the mining training has dark brown fur that lays flat on its head. It's unusual in not having any bits that stick out from its head, ahoge or whatever. This one is relatively quiet, and while it has assimilated the mining and smelting knowledge, it needs to bulk up to do any mining. Smelting is relatively easy, and getting a strong natural draft going in a furnace is almost trivial with the increased gravity. This trimp builds furnaces like nothing. And likes to nap in holes it digs right on the spot; it's weird that way. [Puchim@s Yukipo, and furnaces are not explicit in Trimps.]
21m58s: Farming in Z1c80.
The resourcing "books" are not data cards but paper scrolls, apparently lost to the trimps. It seems that they were civilized in the recent past and some calamity swept over the planet to reduce them to this. Did I have something to do with it? Amnesia sucks harder than a Dyson- ...what's a Dyson? Whatever, it sucks. This disaster happening just before I crash in the only spot with trimps still alive would be a seriously crazy coincidence! Something is really, really wrong about all this. [The author has not sought or received product placement permission or fee from Dyson Technology Ltd. or any resellers of their stuff, just they literally suck balls and made my favorite vacuum cleaner.]
23m50s: Builder in Z1c90.
They've rescued an, I dunno, gelding trimp? It just started to build a shed around the piled lumber I left to build one. It's really slow compared to me, and just banged its thumb, but it is super cute with that long reddish head fur. That particular trimp is also fascinated with pink ribbons and likes to decorate its head fur with them. Because of its inherent inability to participate in rearing children, it isn't counted in the population. [Puchim@s Io, builder on the basis of Iori seen building in 1x10.]
26m02s: Zone 2, 44 pop, 5.5s RC with Z0/1.
It's some sort of tactical manual - tactical coordination. Coordination! He's starting to sort out some trimpese on the research he has done so far. It needs a lot of metal, so they won't be able to implement it for some time. Hopefully, they're still good one at a time, but these enemies seem to be getting bigger as we go along. Uh oh!
27m33s: Gym in Z2c5.
It's some sort of training dojo or sporting arena. The human examines the ruins, I think I can back-engineer drawings for this, get one built, and see what happens.
29m02s: 1g, 47 pop, 10.8s RC with Z1/2.
The two fighting trimps now with their gym and coordination are dodging and blocking enthusiastically, and making much faster ground against the bad guys then a little while ago when it was just one trimp fighting at a time and unable to avoid the enemy hitting back.
40m46s: Fresh turkimp in Z2c74, 63 pop, 7.9s RC, Sh1-10, Da1-5, Bo1-3, Ma1-3, Hm1-3, 6g.
Oh, wow, the laborers seem really hot after this turkimp. He cooks it up and tries a slice. It's really awesome! I have to work alongside his laboring trimps to share it, but I'm getting used to the gravity now. That scroll we found back in Z2c10 really helped. Trimps' techniques and appliances for handicapped individuals, and I'm really handicapped in this higher gravity. He joins the woodcutters with the turkimp; they're the most numerous resource laborer right now, building more gyms, enough that the block/dodge ability of the fighting trimps is almost caught up to the enemy's ability to cause damage.
43m15s: Zone 3, 63 pop, 7.9s RC with Z1/2.
I'm neglecting my science and trimp scientists are really expensive. Curiously, that grey-haired one can't speak all that well, only says "Tai" and "Shijou", but it can write and draw like nobody's business. It's the only scientist so far. [Puchim@s Takanya: Online references probably still claim that she can utter the first two syllables of any word, but she can actually utter only the first two kana syllables of someone's name, most often the given name of basis human Takane Shijou, who also has that habit. (All the utterances of the puchidoru are based on the speech foibles of their basis humans except maybe Piyopiyo, where I haven't seen anything match up so far.)]
47m32s: Finally, we can make drywall and houses. 59m30s: Z3c77, 94 pop, 7.8s RC.
Oh, those poor things are really struggling up at the front. These trimps are enthusiastic and know no fear, but I still feel like telling them to stop for a while. I don't have the heart to keep them from trying while they're still doing some damage.
1h05m24s: Zone 4, 107 pop, 9.3s RC with Z3/4. 1h15m26s: Zone 5, 120 pop, 8.2s RC with Z3/4.
"What is that?" the human asks. He has three scientists. His first does all the writing, but the other two can actually speak. One of them hops up on a rock spire beside the human to reach his eye level.
At the next ridge line, over the lowest and most passable gap in the terrain, this really mean looking hovering sausage monster.
"I dunno," the scientist trimp shrugs, "But it's making me hungry. Looks like a perfectly cooked frankfurter from here." [John Morell's dubious dirigibles.]
"Oh, yeah," the human nods, "that's a blimp."
"A blimp?" the trimp tilts its head quizzically at the human, "How could you know?"
"I wish I could tell you, little buddy," the human extends his arm braces to descend the pass on the side of the zone boundary in the boss enemy's direction, then grunts, "Let's go kill it."
1h16m11s: Z1c9, 120 pop, 10.3s RC with Z4/5. 1h33m34s: Zone 6, 151 pop, 7.4s RC with Z4/5.
1h33m54s: TP in Z1c3.
"What's this?" the human asks, having picked up the little square document with the curling corners.
"Oh," the hungry scientist looks at it, "It's a garden path, follow me."
"You want to lead me down the garden path?" the human says.
"Yeah," the scientist says.
"Are you kidding?" the human asks.
"No," says the other scientist, "We don't get human humor. Listen, these fighters can't go, let them wear themselves out here, then we'll take the next group through this garden."
"Okay," the human nods, watching two more trimps join the fray as he issues the Z5 coordination orders, "they're doing pretty well after all that block training research we just wrapped up." [That's a common artifact, even in normal games, Z5 Traintacular combines with many gyms, enough population to add several trainers, affording Blockmaster, which is expensive on a run zero, plus a break on Tion Z5, a 40% all-stat increase. I don't think Zach designed it into the game on purpose, it just worked out this way.]
1h34m07s: 151 pop, 10.5s RC with Z5/7. 1h37m44s: Drop from Z6c39, TP for 3.
"Now we have these access map frags we can use to route through the old trimpopoli," the scientist explains, "Atlimpis for food, Morimpa for gems, Everimp for metal, and Impazon for wood."
"What about the garden?" the human asks.
"Well, we got lucky with Tricky Paradise," the scientist says, "but you can randomize the route and maybe get lucky. What's with that look?"
"Somehow, I'm remembering 'frag' as something that blew up with deadly pieces," the human says. [Different video games - ones with better graphics and worse gameplay Ｏ(>▽<)Ｏ]
1h39m59s: Blues back up to the top on series I...
"Tai, Tai!" the first ever trimp scientist stops the human just before he upgrades the mace and dagger to Mk.6 and Mk. 8 respectively. It has a note for him.
"Why do you keep calling me that?" the human asks, "Do you think that's my name?"
"Shijou, Shijou," it nods as though to indicate, I KNOW it is. Then it proffers its note again. The human takes it and reads, "Don't upgrade the first row equipment right now."
"Why not?" the human asks.
"Shijou," it points at the end of the mapped route, where there's a scroll sticking out of the thistles.
2h24m07s: Zone 8, 224 pop, 12.2s RC with Z7/12.
"Your settlement is getting crowded, there's Trimps in the streets, and you're taking heat. You feel a sudden strong desire to create a map, though you're not quite sure how that would help."
2h49m10s: Zone 9, 357 pop, 9.5s RC with Z8/15.
"You can't shake the feeling that you've been here before. Déjà-vu?"
The trimps really seem to like the new high capacity mansions, and the village has rapidly expanded since they started building them.
"There's something familiar about this," the human says.
"Tai," the grey one that writes clings to his arm and shows him a note that says, "Don't give up now."
"We must persist," says the yellow one has found a foothold it can grab onto and grabs the human's shoulder gently, "If you give up to early, we'll never solve this. You'll be stuck here forever."
The human puts his hand over the trimp's paw on his shoulders, then looks at him, "I can die, too."
"No, you can't," the trimp says quietly, "Please don't test that, tall one."
"Death is just another path..." he remembers.
"Gan," the grey one squeaks. [That's the first two kana syllables of "Gandalf"]
"...one that we all must take," the human continues, "The grey rain-curtain of this world rolls back, and all turns to silver glass, and then you see it-"
"A green mist," the yellow trimp interrupts, "flash of fire, we're all gone and our progress forgotten. The wandering stars return to that day, and you again crash that ship- ...a little better every time."
"Wait," the human looks around, "have I been here before?"
"I-" the yellow trimp tries in futility to share what little it knows, "...or... somebody got just a little coolant into the-"
"Into the what?"
"This side up," the grey one's note says.
"Into the that," the yellow one points at the note, "It really helped. You- ...I don't think we've ever had mansions before."
Well, of course they didn't have mansions before. That was one of my ship's data cards. How did it get way out here? Will anything start to make sense?
3h02m13s: Zone 10, 387 pop, 8.7s RC with Z8/15; '28s: 11.1s RC with Z9/19. 3h16m41s: Tough snimp after food book, L10 rand dept from lo-hi-med 118/25/96, 4 Items.
"That's twice our frags led us to gem-rich Moria," the human says.
"Morimpa," the new red trimp scientist corrects, there now being 5 scientists. [There'd be more if there were more turkimp.]
"The question is how do we use all these gems?" the human looks at the village zoning plans again, "I like those mansions and all, but they use hardly any gems compared to, well-" he gestures at the pile of over two dozen thousand gems they've gathered, "-that! And still a lot of wood and lumber."
"I think there's something," the yellow one sighs, "I wish I knew more."
Quite some time later, after they're done looting that route for equipment plans, the trimps are again advancing through Zone 10, and he hears it.
"Tai?" the grey one wonders.
"Where are you going?" the yellow one asks.
"To the farm," the human answers.
"Whatever for?" the red one seems exasperated.
"Shijou?" the grey one sighs, then looks at the fighting front. It's been around long enough to remember, "Shijou!"
"You guys already get so much to eat this doesn't do you much good," the human explains.
3h32m33s: L11 112/35/78 rand sea, dropped from Z11c6 with disband, 4.
"What's wrong?" the red one asks.
The human comforts one of the wounded. Once trimps start into a zone fight, they have to finish before they bleed out. He's really bothered making them desert in front of that second turkimp. "They had a lot left in them," he sighs, rubbing his eyes, "but we can't keep that much dead turkimp at once, we have to leave it alive to use up all of this one."
"Shijou," the grey one presents a note, "We need this map right away, anyway. Don't worry about it, Tightniks."
"Tightniks?" he looks at the grey one, "Is that me? How do you know?"
"Tai," the grey one points at the top of the human's left breast pocket.
"Ah, crud," the yellow one curls its tail around in front of itself as trimps do when they're embarrassed, "Is that really a name tag?"
The human hadn't even noticed it since the green flash blew up his memory as he was stepping out of the ship.
4h04m22s: Block (sub-8h AP is only 0.3%), taking it, 504 pop, 9.8s RC with Z10/24.
It's a pretty thick book about using shields for block instead of hit points. The pad has the stats analysis. Sh3-1 is only giving us 9% of our hit points. Turning to his trimp scientists, he says, "It seems to me to be worth it."
"Let's," the yellow one nods.
"Shijou," it hands him a note, "It scales badly, but that won't matter for a long time. I think there's a way to undo it before it matters."
"Doing it." The human takes out his pad and starts scanning.
4h29m05s: L14 rand moun 137/26/80 is really good for a lo-hi-med. 4h30m52s: Hotels.
"Ah," the yellow one says, "I knew there was something. That must be it."
5h08m09s: L15 lo-hi-hi rand gard 129/28/82 (just got explorers). 5h09m32s: Picked up Wall.
"Dam," the human says.
"Damn?" the red one chuckles.
"No," the human says, "Earthen wall dam; it's a thing that makes artificial lakes by holding rivers back."
"Lakes?" the yellow one asks, "Rivers?"
"Oh yeah," the human says, "This planet doesn't have enough rain for those..."
5h48m21: Leaving Wall from about c70 to fetch Tion Z15.
"You can't resume the map from the same point if you start another," the human reads the grey one's note.
"We can go back to the same point on that route if we hold there and finish Zone 15, right?" Tightniks asks.
"Shijou!" it seems to be saying yes.
"Yes," the yellow one adds, "but we're out of Series III upgrades, and you need a fresh map route to start up Series IV."
"We should be okay," Tightniks says, "but if we have to start it over, I don't see that being a big deal." As they advance through the rest of Zone 15, Tightniks resumes his usual duties at the research desk instead building and running traps like he was before.
The trimps seem hopeful at this decision.
5h49m10s: Fresh turkimp. 5h50m16s: Zone 16, 1071 pop, 13.4s RC with Z15/75, 13m43s turkimp (skel in c1.)
"Z:16 Seriously? Another Blimp so soon?"
"So," Tightniks lowers his bee nickels and looks at the red one, "is it going to be boss fights at the end of every zone from now on?"
"Hmm," the red trimp looks up past the human at some random rock spire or cloud.
"Well?" the human persists.
"Yup," he says.
"Hmph," Tightniks grabs a Sw3-1 of the rack and advances towards the front, "Before then, we have another Mister Titanium."
"What does he like about skeletimps?" the red one asks the grey one as the human marches off.
"Shijou?" the grey one seems just as confused by that.
"He's not going back to the ship, and he's not getting himself killed," the yellow one smiles, "so I'll take it."
5h58m32s...
"Hey guys, go for the mortar!" the human suggests to his 75 fighting trimps in the Wall's boss fight.
"I can tell from your bedtime stories that you're used to the artillery in that other place," the yellow one gripes, "but fighting works differently here, there's no artillery."
And the human instantly collapses laughing, the scientists a little worried he might have injured himself in the planet's severe gravity. But he's okay, at least physically, "Mortar is the stuff between the bricks, fellas. That's is a brickimp, right?"
5h59m18s: Wall, 1076 pop, 13.3s RC, 1% AP for sub-8h finish, first L16 roll good 156/35/84 moun, 10 for the metal.
Beyond the Wall was a more edenic section of the trimpolis ruins, doubling the production of the lumberjacks. The trimps are actually really happy with the mode of all of the laborers moving between the three big jobs, along with the turkimp, except for the foremen specialized at leading the job. It isn't enough to boost their productivity, but the human goes to them with trays of sandwiches.
6h06m52s: 50 map run 0.3% AP...
6h19m13s: Zone 17, 1141 pop, 16.0s RC with Z16/94, no turkimp.
"Z:17 You climb a large cliff and look out over the new Zone. Red dirt, scorched ground, and devastation. Is that a Dragimp flying around out there?!"
"Hmm," the human surveys the new zone with his bee nickels, "Looks like crap. Any ideas?"
"You're the idea man," the yellow one groans.
"Set the map flag," he puts his bee nickels away, "We'll run a depth for practice and to load up on gems for more hotels."
"Righto," the red one gets to work.
6h44m34s: First DCP. (Draglimp Care Package; I refuse to call it a tribute.)
"Oh," the human says, "It's tame now, so it brings back gems in exchange for food?" He looks at his gaping scientists, "That's what it looks like, huh? Guys? Yo!"
"Tai..." the grey one sighs.
Draglimp, the dragimp imprinted on Tightniks, lands beside the human, drops some gems at his feet, and accepts some scratching behind its horns before diving into the food bowl.
"You tamed a dragimp???" Grey's note says.
"Well," the yellow one huffs, "I guess that happened."
8h18m53s: L20 depth of 154/27/79.
"Mapping up here?" the red one half closes one eye and tilts his head.
"Yeah," the human says while fitting together the depth map fragments, "With the coordination book not right at the end, we have an extra mark of coordination to take advantage of. Let's take our housing up to 2000 or so, shall we?"
"Okay," the yellow one says from a pile of logs, "What's all the wood for?" They had been collecting it for days now.
"The series upgrades follow a rather specific pattern," Tightniks explains, "Just on the other side of this blimp is Zone 21, where we should be able to find the Shield series V, right?"
"Shijou!" the grey one nods.
8h56m17s: 1% AP for 100 map runs, leaving it, 1751 pop, 24.8s RC with Z20/232. 8h56m54s: Zone 21...
"Ooooookay," Tightniks growls, "There is something off about this thing."
"Shijou?" the grey one looks at the yellow one with concern about their human starship pilot friend.
The human stoops, picks up the little green gem on the ridge between Zone 20 and 21, looks at it, huffs, and asks, "Any idea where this comes from?"
"Err..." the red one seems hesitant to say, "I think you made it."
"Really?" the human huffs, "How could that be?" Then he tosses it at Red, "See if anything reacts to it. It might be radioactive, so we should take turns to minimize exposure."
"Really?" Red's holding it now, "What makes you say that?"
"Because I'm pissed off for no reason I can figure out," the human says, "I think it's coming from that."
"Frags," the red one says quickly, "I think it's arranging a route. You're good with maps," it tosses the gem to the grey scientist.
"Shijou," the grey one says hopefully, and has a map drawn within a few minutes. [Whether it looks like the one in Puchim@s 1x61 is anyone's guess. That one annoyed me as well as Chihya.]
9h02m37s: L21 moun first roll was a decent 160/26/84. 9h21m00s: Starting run 5 of that map...
Tightniks had taken his anger out on some food and wood to build about 8000 traps. Now he's leaning against a rock spire in his increasingly tattered uniform. A nap begins, perhaps unintentionally.
Wild trimps are examining the pile, finding it unwelcoming, and also finding no place in the town, just mill about. It looks like they want to help.
"Ku?" it's a blue trimp, probably a farmer waiting for stuff to grow, climbs up on the rock spire the human is leaning against, starts patting him on the head, "Ku. Ku ku." [Puchim@s Chihya.]
9h23m09s: Still working that lap...
Tightniks wakes up from that nap, and the grey one is standing there. "Shijou," it says with a note of concern, although not much of one. The note it holds says, "It wasn't me."
"Oh, what wasn't you, buddy?" He stretches out a bit, feeling somewhat refreshed. It feels like somebody washed his face and hair while he was sleeping.
The grey one is also holding a small mirror, apparently broken off from a larger mirror and with the sharp edges filed down to make the edges safe.
The human takes it from the grey trimp and holds it in front of his face to discover that somebody has bound up all his hair into about twenty little pigtails. He touches them with his other hand to confirm. "Eh, whatever." He hands the mirror back and goes back to sleep. [Puchim@s Koamimami.]
9h30m08s: The following run...
"He's not throwing stuff every which way yet," the yellow one whispers to the red one, watching the human snoozing with his pad on his knee.
"You remember that, too?" the red one asks.
"'Remember'?" the yellow one turns to face the red one, "I s'pose that's better than imagining it."
"I remember it, too," the grey one says via a playing card sized note.
"If we're stuck in a time loop," the yellow one sighs, "maybe this cycle will be different."
"Tai..." the grey one admires him for a moment. Then thumbs in the direction of the mountain, "Heh, Shijou!" it laughs.
9h35m58s: Run 8, c9 of that map.
The scientists nap and take notes, and meditate and take notes, and draw stuff. The grey one often storyboards for the other nine because it's the best at drawing stuff. They have come up with a list, and most probably "order" (they're debating whether their ranking means "order" (sequence of things happening over the various loops) or "frequency" (what proportion of previous loops they have happened in). But they've come up with this, from first (or perhaps most often) to most recent (or perhaps least often):
- The ship crashes (they're pretty sure that happens every loop) - The human builds huts - The human teaches some of his trimps to speak and do science - The human builds houses - The human makes maps - The human builds mansions - The human blows up and gets himself killed somewhere around Z17 to Z21, often on a dragimp - The human only recently/occasionally builds hotels - The human only recently/rarely tamed a dragimp - The human only recently/rarely maps the Dimension of Anger
They're all agreed that that they have never finished the Dimension of Anger. What they are not all agreed on is that they've never done this conference to figure out whether they're in a time loop or what that might mean. [See also Star Trek: The Next Generation episode "Cause and Effect" ...which was sort of a time loop but they weren't going back in time. It's very interesting, but its meta makes no sense - no one ever went looking for the Bozeman in 80 years? No one who went looking for the Bozeman also got stuck? No one noticed the passage of time outside the little area of space where the not-quite-a-time-loop was happening? Errr... sci-fi writers, don't be half-assed about your time loops, lmao! Be like Harold Ramis- ...what am I saying?? (That would be Groundhog Day, which grafted a time loop into a romcom; there are no other sci-fi elements. But it was a full-blown time loop and not half-assed like "Cause and Effect".)]
9h54m06s: Dropped from Z21c95...
I think it would be a bad idea to bypass that green area, as much as I'd rather not face it. Both his domesticated trimps, which are breeding up a new group of fighters, and the wild trimps he has decided just now not to open the traps for, stare at him and point in that direction. He shoulders a huge Shield V-3 and grabs an Mace IV-2 as well and announces, "We're doing it." Thus equipped, he marches off into the Dimension of Anger.
10h27m53s: Taking Pi4-2; recently had taken Pa4-2...
The group at the front had expired, and the snimp in DoAc95 glares at the advancing colony of trimps, which had halted only because of it. It refuses to counterattack the vulnerable colony and its human, instead snorting and huffing, waiting for the next bunch of 232 fighting trimps to come in range.
Tightniks runs along the line of traps, releasing the recently tamed trimps, singing a song that he doesn't remember the meaning of, that he doesn't remember was crafted by an ethnically Chinese guy out of an African language, and later mastered by two caucasians over the internet before they ever met in person. "Baba yetu yetu uliye, mbinguni yetu yetu amina..." because it just happened to be stuck in his head. [Because the Doylian author decided on a whim to. Christopher Tin got it into Civilization IV and at the time (2010 July), I made the best video for it on YouTube, which got subsequently blown to shreds when Peter Hollens and Malukah re-recorded the song from scratch in their own voices and instruments in 2014, pity with no English translation, the purpose of my video.]
Noticing the last batch of metal he needs coming out of the furnace, he waves the waiting grey scientist to fire up the forge [to use the term properly and not as the game does], for it was time to wrap up the forging dies for the Spetum IV, Mark 2 pike heads.
"Shijou!" the grey one cheers, setting aside a snack that looks like maybe ramen, and starts jumping up and down on the bellows handle.
It takes a while for the human to chip out the tip in the two halves of the forging die, and then polish it, and then heat it up in the forge, and then quench it, inspect it, and put it into service crafting thousands of new pike heads for the fighting trimps.
But only one second passed on the map frame clock (10h27m54s) four cells behind that snimp, in the case being brooded over by this huge, and if it's honest, rather concerned megablimp.
10h35m45: Portal PB, 45 He, 4.247 He/hr, 1891 pop, 22.7s RC with Z20/232, no turkimp.
The last head of the map's boss monster goes limp as one of the fighting trimps' mace heads bounces of it, and the huge thing settles on its tail, resting on the package that seems to be the prize of this map. And there's a popping sound, and then something mechanical.
Is that a scroll compressor? Tightniks looks at the package. The deflating monster's lifting envelope material drapes over everything underneath it. "Red, Shijou!" he snaps and points, "roll up that side of it. Keep this part from sucking down on the extractor nozzle!"
All ten of the scientists jump in, literally, pushing the gas in the bag towards the compressor. Tightniks as well, rolling up the front.
Until he kicks, and nearly trips over, a smaller package that might be the explanation for the reason why the center of the monster's defense seemed to be a little away from the big package he could see. It's in the right place, he realizes. He gets it uncovered and reads stenciled-and-sprayed block letters on it:
"DT TIME PORTAL / THIS SIDE DOWN"
Perhaps the Dimension of Anger is so named because of the rage suddenly rising up in Tightniks' throat. It isn't so much as the free-floating aggression suddenly has an answer, there is definitely a fresh batch of rage and anger as he grips the nearest Mace IV, Mark 3 with both hands and gets it over his shoulder, its target obviously this object, anger at the realization he screams at the top of his lungs, "We are stuck in a mutha FAH-king time loop!!" His swing begins. [Tightniks almost never cusses, unlike Snugniks.]

~First~
(Writing, writing, writing: Muse crashes, burns and refuses to respond. Great.)
The Buzz on the Spin
“That’s the third time the call was dropped.” Hoagie states the obvious.
“From what I can tell they’re being hacked like it’s the latest fad. Even if our call goes through clean it’s going to be seen by an audience of several billion at least.” Demon replies. His tiny little girl is sitting on his shoulder so everyone’s watching their language, even Zsebreza. Sure, Kathy was growing quick and was developing a good sense of humour, but not even Minisi wanted to be responsible for teaching her the naughty words.
It takes several more tries with the bridge crew chuckling at things before suddenly the link is accepted to find a thoroughly unamused Asian Man glaring at them. The man then lets out a breath. “Two hundred and eighty six separate calls with the image of a woman presenting herself. I have never been simultaneously flattered and insulted.”
“Spoiled for choice sir?” Demon asks.
There is a moment of a pause as the man’s eyebrow quirks in frustration. “Yes.”
“I’m afraid it’s a common issue the galaxy over sir, we humans are hot commodity. Even a hideous slob of a man would find himself inundated with attention. A competent man with goals, ideals and motivation? A feast before the starving sir.” Hoagie says.
“Clearly Officer Eastman.” He says before relaxing a little. “I am Observer Wu. I have been charged by the nations of Earth with baring impartial witness to what has occurred the galaxy over. I have already spoken to several pockets of humanity, including but not limited to three other space stations, the newly risen nobility of Vucsa and of course, The Dauntless and the Embassy on Centris.”
“So what are you looking for? We’ve sent back numerous eyewitness testimonies and as much in the way of resources and proof of our claims that can survive the damaging effects of Cruel Space. A fair portion of exotic material and cadavers were actually supplied from this very station. What more do you need?”
“I just wish to speak with people. I will be communicating with and travelling to every major locations where humans have touched in the galaxy. To see the truth of things with unclouded eyes.” Observer Wu says and there are some nods. “Now then, if you could describe your location and posting please?”
“Certainly, we’ll do that in reverse though if you don’t mind.”
“I do not.”
“We are posted here to both ensure that we have friendly contacts in an area of interest and to learn more about the galaxy at large. Between ourselves and our fellows posted at other stations we are writing the operations manual for how to maintain, police, administrate, protect and supply a fully functional space station with a substantial permanent population. We’re also recruiting and keeping our eyes out for unusual technologies, tactics and techniques. This station alone contains a permanent population that rivals several first world nations on Earth with an industrial capacity well beyond what those nations can provide.”
“Can it now? This station is self sustaining? Food, air and other such supplies?”
“It turns out that a great deal of air is released by harvesting asteroids. Most of them contain a large amount of ice, even when they’re primarily minerals of some kind. Food is grown in hydroponics on such a scale we outright export it. The mining provides the metals and other materials for further products and again, hydroponics of a different source give us oils which leads to plastics, cloth comes in too. The station is completely self sustaining at this point. If the rest of the galaxy was to vanish then all we need are some rocks and we can keep this place going forever.” Demon explains and Observer Wu nods.
“And have you learned about these techniques and technologies?”
“Yes, however many of them are reliant upon Axiom.”
“And the control of the station?” He asks and Minisi pokes at a few of them with her tentacles to get people to shift away. “And you are... the woman in charge I believe?”
“Indeed. Although not for too much longer. I’ve had my fun but the station has become a tedium. I will admit that your species showing up has broken up the monotony a touch, but only enough to give me enough time to really make sure my heiress has this place on lock and with an unmatched command crew.”
“And you’re fine with them having that level of power?” Observer Wu asks and Minisi has a tentacle point right down at Hoagie.
“This one has been in charge of over ten percent of my station. The most productive Agriculture Decks we have are in his power, both officially and unofficially. The businesswomen there fear the flamingo shirts!”
“Hey, I got flowers on at least half of them.” Hoagie protests and she turns to him.
“Hey hey hey! Station boss or not, no horning on my hubby!” Zsebreza says buzzing into view and pressing back on the woman who leans back in amusement.
“You Charbis are so easy to rile up...” She says fondly as Zsebreza sheathes her weapon while still giving her a massive stinkeye.
“So that video was not an elaborate prank in horrific taste.” Observer Wu notes.
“Reality is stranger than fiction sir.” Hoagie notes.
“Indeed it is, and now that you’ve confused me, I am going to return the favour.” Observer Wu states and Hoagie looks from side to side and everyone else is equally baffled.
“Sir?” Hoagie asks as Observer Wu presses a button on his armrest and requests for a certain passenger to be sent up. “What is this...”
He freezes entirely as the camera shifts and he can see... “Mom?”
“Daniel!” Janet Eastman says with a smile. “And... one of those... things that got you.”
“I told you we needed to edit that video.” Zsebreza says.
“But it would clearly have been faked in some way and...” Hoagie trails off. “I... are you alright? The way out of Cruel Space is no fun.”
“It.. it was not pleasant, but I worked in the kitchens for most of it and it kept me busy.” She says.
“Familiar territory then.”
“A starship mess hall is NOTHING like a Corner Bistro in New York.” Janet says and he chuckles.
“Are you sure you’re alright? I mean... the rail shot into orbit, the initial training...”
“I’m part of the civilian experiment. To see how easy or hard it is to get people out of our little corner of the galaxy.”
“And the verdict Miss Hoagie’s mother?” Minisi asks in an amused tone.
“Something needs to be done about the zero-gravity trip. It’s too much. I’ve needed some chemical help to stay calm during parts of the trip.”
“Yeah, it’s not much better when you’re trained for it.” Hoagie says. “Are you coming here?”
“Of course! Those videos were horrifying! If those girls are walking all over you like that then I don’t care if I’m numbered two hundred to one or two thousand to one! I didn’t work my butt off as a waitress when you were a little boy just to see a bunch of bees walk all over you! So I’m putting you on notice!” She growls out.
“Okay lady, I’m giving you the private number, because I love that attitude. And because we need to get ahead of this before there’s a war kicked off.” Zsebreza promises.
“There is no war that’s going to kick off. Mother, Charbis are a very defensive species and refuse to let people see their relaxed state unless they have absolute trust. No exceptions. That’s why you’ve never seen them in anything less than one of their most agitated states. When not safely in the hive a Charbis is only a few moments away from violence.”
“Is the hive like a beehive?”
“It’s not made of waxy hexagons. It’s a bunker with innumerable defences and very comfortable on the inside. They’re so reinforced and secure that it’s the most defensive part on the station barring the other Hives.”
“Hey, you’re really pushing it...”
“I haven’t said anything secret. I haven’t shown anything secret. Anyone with working eyes can see a Hive is nearly impossible to attack if they want to live, and with how wealthy and good with crops Charbis are in general, any idiot can figure out that they have plenty within the hive.”
“Well... yes, but the idea that anyone has any idea what the hives are like...” Zsebreza says and then Janet’s eyes widen as she realizes exactly what she’s seeing.
“Oh! It’s like THAT! No wonder you haven’t bothered running. It’s not too different from home was it?”
“Tough on the outside, everything you want inside? Pretty much.” Hoagie says and a very relieved Janet lets out a sigh of relief.
“Good. I’m still coming over though.”
“But, what about back home? Aren’t you?”
“Daniel. It’s okay. The old building was... well it was soon to be decommissioned anyway.”
“Oh... and I suppose the little place out back...”
“Gone too.” Janet says.
“I see.” Hoagie says.
“Are you alright?” Zsebreza asks and he nods.
“Yeah it just... the place I grew up is gone. Even if there was a way back to Earth, a true way, then I still couldn’t got home again.”
“Everyone leaves home eventually. Not everyone can go back.” Janet says. “Still. Don’t think you’re keeping me away, just because I’ve gotten an idea about you young lady. I’m coming to make sure you’re treating my little boy right. If this is a woman’s galaxy, then this woman is making sure her boy is with the best in the galaxy. Understand me?!”
“Mom!”
“Daniel.” She says even as he gives one of his fellows a dirty look when they snort. They put their hands up and back away. “So fierce young man. Now...”
•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•
He simply watches the video feed as mother and son speak. Trying to get a grip on the body language of the alien creatures. There’s a great deal of play and movement around the Charbis Bee woman, the ears are a massive tell on the Ikiya-Mas girl and the Mnenmi seemed utterly passive, in control. The men seemed either comfortable or excited and things seemed to be matching up.
Of course Mother Eastman was an open book to his practised eye, worried, putting on a brave front but the kind of woman who had given up her life to raise a child properly and was now chasing him out of not only maternal duty, but a sense of emptiness now that her great struggle was finished.
He knew her story. A sad tale of how to people, neither with families, had found each other and then shortly as life seemed to be picking up for the happy ending, an accident had taken the father, leaving a single mother to mourn and raise a child alone. A woman with no really marketable skills beyond being a woman and having a sympathetic story. She had been hired and remained hired at a moderately successful Bistro for over a decade, even being held on because she had a teenage son at home working a part time to help out.
Sad story, but one that had given her and the boy spines of steel. Still, open book regardless and...
His communicator goes off and he checks it. It is a text from an unknown number.
-Enjoying the show? ~Minisi
His eyebrows climb up a little and he reconsiders his thoughts on the octopus alien. She’s clearly very aware of things, and likely has the implants required to communicate without being obvious. Or he’s looking at a body double. Either way, she’s tipped her hand for... some reason. Which is bothering him. Why did she reveal this?
There is no way to determine without further interaction. So he replies with a simple yes.
-Good, a voyeur who doesn’t even enjoy the show is just a bore.
Is she just mocking him? This seems to be more mockery than anything. So he asks a simple question.
-Why does it matter?
-It doesn’t. You’re a prickly one aren’t you?
-Yes, I am. Is there an issue?
-Not at all.
Well that’s not useful. Is she just poking him for entertainment? She still hasn’t moved at all beyond basic shows of amusement as mother and son make plans to get her to the station and the Charbis daughter in law is putting on a clearly fake show of protesting having the woman be brought into the hive.
A hand falls onto his shoulder and he jumps in his seat a little before turning to see a smiling, but old and withered face. “Can I help you?”
“I was just wondering if I could make use of the communication relays next. As entertaining as the last few months were, I do think I should give a proper warning to my approach. If only to see how the boy responds.”
“Do you think he will respond poorly?”
“Only if he’s changed far more than I’d expect. But who knows? The mystery is half the fun of life now, isn’t it?” The elderly man says. Observer Wu considers for a few moments. This man had broken into his personal office without setting off an alarm, without alerting the guards and all the while needing a cane and with his joints audibly creaking.
“If you tell me how you broke in Mister Koga, then I think I can accommodate you.”
“Oh that? Easy enough, follow me lad, I’ll show you where you need a few more eyes. Or lasers! Lasers are always fun. Not as much as a guard dog, but having a poor inu in the vents is just cruel no matter how much you dislike chihuahuas.”
“That was rather specific.”
“I was suppose it was wasn’t it? Anyways, this way young man.”
~First~ Last Next

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...
Reality shifted, transforming into an endless forest of purple glowing vines among green and yellow trees. Minuscule creatures of all shapes and sizes flew about. To the untrained eye they seemed charming, even beautiful, yet they were all parasites taking advantage of the richness of magic threads for sustenance. They weren’t the problem, though. Other entities were also present in force—aether golems.
Summoning a clay cylinder, Dallion unleashed a ray of destruction, shattering hundreds of the crimson-purple constructs like glass. The spell was followed by a spark infused spiral attack directly below.
​
Realm section damaged!
Overall completion 78%
​
Large chunks of land erupted at the impact, transforming into clouds of dirt high up in the air. Thankfully, there didn’t seem to be any more golems hidden in the soil.
“Seventy-eight,” Dallion said as he gently floated to the ground. “Mages really don’t maintain anything, do they?”
The life of academia is filled with its own challenges, dear boy, Adzorg protested, practically admitting the statement. That’s a domain ruler’s job.
“I suppose it is.”
Dallion looked at his feet. They were there, along with his shoes and the lower part of his trousers. Nothing seemed to be wrong with them, yet this was only a fake projection. In the real world, they no longer existed.
There’s no reason to be alarmed. With your magic and body levels, you should be able to have them restored in a matter of months. Until then, you’ll just have to use aether stand-ins, or even a good illusion, if you prefer.
Dallion considered it. If there was someone who’d know, that would be Adzorg. The mage had his hands severed not too long ago. Looking at him now, no one would be able to guess that they had been gradually restored over the course of months.
​
REALM INVASION
​
Red rectangles filled the sky.
“Seems like they’ve taken me seriously.” Dallion stood up. His real-life troubles would have to wait.
Knowing Alien, he probably only modified the golems to treat you as an intruder. The area guardian must have stepped in.
“Doesn’t the emperor control this? Or an overseer?”
The Academy has always been sort of different, dear boy, Adzorg explained. While we serve the emperor, we’re technically autonomous.
“Like the Order.”
To a certain degree. Think of this realm as isolated. That’s why moving it around isn’t as easy as moving everything else. Due to the magic concentration and frequent experiments, the area has become… more susceptible to other worlds. That’s why I did my experiments here—it’s far easier to break through the protective barrier here than elsewhere. Well, except the fallen south, possibly. The old mage added with a brief laugh. To prevent anything spilling out into the rest of Tamin’s domain, the Academy is isolated from everything else.
“That shouldn’t stop him from coming here in case he wants to,” Dallion said.
Not in the least. That doesn’t make it desirable, though.
That was a strange statement. There were too many benefits for the emperor not to get involved. Even if he were afraid that someone might do what he had done to the archbishop. Either way, the faster Dallion could take control of the domain, the better. He knew he couldn’t keep it, but that wouldn’t prevent him from transporting a few pieces to his own territory. As for what was left, he’d make sure that no one could take advantage of it in the future.
Aqui, he said within his personal realm.
The orange-scaled dragon emerged within seconds. Ten times larger than in the real world, she was doing her best to present herself larger than she actually was. Even so, her present level was clearly visible should anyone look at her white rectangle.
“Grasped the concept of eating?” Dallion looked at her.
The large dragon snarled.
“Can you do it from within the realm?”
The anger changed into bewilderment.
“No one can consume magic from within a realm,” she said defensively. Dallion knew for a fact that wasn’t the case. He himself had done so many times and he wasn’t the only one.
“What about outside? How fast can you drain the area of magic?”
“Why?” She lowered her head, bringing it to Dallion’s level.
“I’m going to do something and when I do, we’ll have to get out of here quickly.”
The dragon snorted right at Dallion.
“It would be nice if you can reach level ten at least.”
Pride filled the dragon’s body, as blue blobs the size of houses emerged within her. There was no way that she would only level up to such a low level. Of course, Dallion’s subtle use of music skills had also helped in the making of the decision.
Before anyone could say anything more, a cluster of aether cones flew straight at him. Free of the confines of reality, the armadil shield teleported between him and the projectiles, growing three times its size.
Unable to counter the force, Gem was pushed back dozens of feet to the point it reached Dallion himself. Extending one hand, the otherworlder easily countered the attack.
Aquilequia, on her part, had used her natural speed to move away before the cones even got close.
“Best leave.” He said, glancing at her new location. “After I’m done, I’ll need you to be at least as strong as this.”
The dragon didn’t respond, yet didn’t leave the realm, either. Curious as every low-level companion, she moved a safe distance away, eager to see exactly what was referred to. Meanwhile, Dallion sprang into action. With speed surpassing that of Aquilequia, he dashed around the shield, heading straight for the source of the aether cones. To little surprise, they were being released from five spell circles, at huge intensity. More curious was the entity that had cast them.
​
LEARNING HALL GUARDIAN
Species: COPYETTE
Class: SHADOW
Health: 78%
Traits:
- BODY 45
- MIND 60
- REACTION 55
- PERCEPTION 50
- MAGIC 100
Skills:
- ATTACK
- GUARD
- ACROBATICS
- SCHOLAR
- CARVING
- MUSIC
- SPELLCRAFT
Weakness: NONE
​
“Never thought you’d be a copyette,” Dallion said as he performed a series of slashes targeting vital points on the guardian.
Each of them hit, yet instead of red rectangles, the form transformed into cyan sludge that splashed onto the ground.
“Lucky coincidence?” Dallion split into instances, using his music skills to add doubt and weight into his words. “Or were you working for the Order all this time?”
“Nice to see you too, apprentice.” A new figure formed. It was very different from the first, taking on the form of Alien. Spells circles formed in different spots hundreds of feet from Dallion, each releasing anything from lightning to aether shards.
Despite the overwhelming amount, not a single one of Dallion’s instances got harmed. Performing a three-sixty line attack with his harpsisword, he sliced through the new appearance of the guardian, breaking the spell circles in the process.
Don’t be overconfident, Giaccia said. Experience trumps level every time.
There was no way Dallion could disagree. There was a time when he, too, had defeated opponents many levels above him. While it was said that a ten-level difference was insurmountable, the guardian was a copyette with a very high magic trait.
“You can always surrender,” Dallion said, looking in all directions with his instances.
“It’s just like you to offer.” Two forms of the guardian appeared in different locations, now taking on the forms of children in Dallion’s class. “And no, I’m not working for Simon, even if he put me here.”
Dallion dashed, appearing next to one of his former classmates, slicing it to bits using a multi attack.
“Wrong one.” The other form laughed.
Dallion was fully aware that both of them were wrong. His real goal was to try and figure out where the rest of the guardian was hiding. As a copyette, he could create dozens of copies, all an insignificant part of his overall body. Destroying each individual one wouldn’t do anything; harming the one considered the main one might.
He’s stalling for time, Giaccia said.
“Your music attacks are rather good.” Two more copyette forms emerged. “Sadly, it doesn’t depend on me. You’ll have to deal with the main guardian for that. I’m just here to obtain information. Being a hunter, you should know that.”
“It’s been a while since I was a hunter,” Dallion replied. “I’m not an apprentice, either.”
“That’s true. You made full mage, didn’t you? Also, I heard that you were an archduke shortly before rebelling. Quite the achievement.”
“Yeah, yeah. I’m just like my grandfather.” Dallion let it slip.
“Your grandfather?” Confusion emanated from the copyette. “I was about to say that you’re like Jeremy. A lot more straightforward, to be sure, but the drive is there along with the skill.”
Going by large areas, there had to be roughly ten guardians responsible for the realm. Defeating them would effectively make Dallion the new owner. A faster and more challenging way, though, was taking on the main guardian.
No time to hesitate, the harpsisword Guardian reminded Dallion.
It would be a lie to say that Dallion wasn’t. Even with all the copyette’s tricks, he had enough raw power to defeat the guardian, destroying a large part of the realm in the process. It was no accident that of all the key guardians, this one had been sent to reveal his skills. Dallion had spent a significant part of his life in the Learning Hall. While not particularly long in terms of time, it had marked a significant change in Dallion’s life. Before that he was little more than a skill game piece—barely defeating the Star, he was on the run from Countess Priscord, and in debt to the void. His life at the learning hall of the Academy had elevated him to the point that the emperor, the Order, and even the Moons themselves had taken notice.
“Yes.” Dallion sighed. “There’s no time for hesitation.”
Summoning his aura sword, he slashed the air, casting a flight spell that propelled him up like a rocket. Half a mile above the ground, he stopped.
“Sorry, Learning Hall,” he said, slashing the air in what appeared to be a multi attack. Magic symbols and connections were drawn, yet instead of casting multiple five-circle spells, Dallion cast one complex spell chain.
A vortex of spell circles emerged beneath him, shooting bolts of magic draining lightning.
​
Realm section damaged!
Overall completion 77%
​
Realm section damaged!
Overall completion 76%
​
Red rectangles popped up as the ground became covered in craters. Aether projectiles shot up to him in response, most of them blocked by the aether shield before reaching Dallion himself.
“Thanks, but no need,” Dallion unsummoned the shield, unwilling to have it be accidentally affected by his magic draining spell.
​
CRITICAL STRIKE
Dealt damage is increased by 200%
​
A few purple rectangles appeared among the mass of red. At the current rate, the Learning Hall guardian would be defeated in a matter of seconds. Hopefully, there would be enough left for Dallion to restore afterwards. Were this to be the Hall’s realm, there would be no concern on the matter—defeating a guardian merely improved it. In this case, the realm was the Academy, though, not the Learning Hall itself.
Suddenly, a sun gold colossus emerged less than a few hundred feet away. A massive hand reached out and grabbed the vortex from beneath Dallion. Sparks of lightning enveloped the fingers, yet had no effect whatsoever.
A second hand reached for Dallion himself, but he had already darted further back, safely avoiding the attack.
So, that’s the Academy? Dallion looked at the glittering mountain of gold. When it came to the colossus, he shared many of the same characteristics. The one major difference was the colossus’ “attire.” Not the usual Roman-Greek design that Dallion had seen before, the design followed twenty century Earth norms.
“It’s been ages since a domain ruling mage has ventured in this realm,” the colossus said in a booming voice. “You’re the second so far.”
“What happened to the first?” Dallion concentrated. Not a single domain marker appeared anywhere along the guardian’s body.
“He created this area and made sure that no other mage will be able to take it.”
Next

As If It Were Kismet: Prologue
Matt tore through the brush, blind in the dark. He didn’t care where he was going. He only knew he needed to be elsewhere. Far from here.
Behind him a creature howled that shocked his mind. It’s form was cruel and dangerous, though female. Nothing like the young woman she had once been. Nothing but a girl, a small and slight female.
It’s guttural growls and howls only grew closer as Matt tried to pick between seeing where he was going and getting away. The few times he looked he caught sight of the creature behind him. Hopping through the air with a speed that told him he was being toyed with. As if he were a mouse being played with by a cat.
But the reflex in him to run kept him going. His adrenaline going as hard as it could. The tightness and burning in his core tensing and locking up as his legs felt like there were being burned from within while taking on more of a heaviness.
His lungs were starting to betray him as he tried to gulp big breaths of air but only rapid and shallow breaths were all that he could manage. His brain was starting to burn….and then he was falling.
Falling down the side of a hill he saw the creature dart in a spring towards him, imperceivably fast almost. Catching him in mid air it seemed.
Managing to wrap its body around him and cushion his impact against the ground as they rolled. His mind barely took in what was happening during the roll. Only starting to understand what was happening once they were still.
The creature's triple D-cup breasts were unmistakably pressed hard against his back as he laid facing up at the night sky.
For a few seconds the world stilled and the needle light pain hitting the center of his brain took over for the cooking heat his brain had felt. His whole body felt heavy and reluctant to move.
Even if he could have really moved, a dull ache came over his limbs making them feel stilled and trapped as if by immeasurable amounts of sand that had engulfed him.
Slowly the arms holding him started to move. Moving so the creature's hands could start exploring him. Causing Matt to unstoppably let out a pathetic moan that made him go cold inside as hands lifted up his shirt and started to touch his exposed stomach and then his chest.
He would have whimpered so pathetically had he not still been in the depths of terror.
As its hands felt and groped his pecs he tried to situp as if to get away. For his efforts, his reward was a hand around his throat and a collection snarls and growls against his ear. A beastly, guttural voice spat words at him while somehow holding a feminine tone.
“Don’t move….I don’t know if I can calm down…”
Her words were not helped by her moans in his ear and the subsequent kissing of his ear. The flesh of his ear going between her lips as she moaned and seemed to pant. Releasing it and licking the side of his face with a moist warmth. He could feel its spittle, viscous and coating his flesh where the tongue touched. He could smell something in his saliva. Something that subtly entranced him.
Matt went stock still with fear and the confusion of mixed arousal. He barely perceived her right hand traveling lower on his body. A surprised moan and shudder echoed in the night from Matt’s lips as she took ahold of him. Her hand above his pants but still….stimulating him.
A light squeezing and almost probing of her digits kept him aroused and confused within her grasp. Resigning himself to the strange fate, Matt looked up at the stars as his mind tried not to shatter under the strange maelstrom of events and sensation that had started mere minutes ago.
His mind was only more confused as a slight figure, feminine in build, how it seemed to thunk the ground audibly as she landed on her feet out nowhere. Her knees barely bending under the pressure of the landing. Yet dirt was kicked up anyways and some of it onto Matt. Feeling it pepper his shirt and pants as it fell.
The figure, lit only faintly by moonlight, roared some dark tone Matt could only perceive as a demon as her eyes went bright with a crimson light. A light in the darkness that should not have been. “Let him go you bitch.” Was its words following the roar. Spittle escaping its mouth with faint droplets hit Matt's face.
The creature holding him by his throat and crotch seemed to tighten the grasp of both hands as it roared back. “HE IS MINE!”
The figure paused with a moment's hesitation. He was also her quarry. She had felt his fear without him knowing. His confused arousal. His fear. His terror.
And now he laid at the center of a struggle between two monsters. Unsure of who he wanted to win.
As If It Was Kismet Ch. 1
Matthew Berkshire hadn’t seen his mom in two years. Not that he had seen her much over the last six years.
A messy divorce between messy people and mom’s chaotic want for a life in Alaska had been one of the most…upsetting times in life. Setting him up for so much of what had defined his life thus far but then that had really started two years before he ever turned.
His ear buds were basic and simple. A part of cheap five pack, common for his life as he was known to lose little things. Small things. They had a mix of metal and hard rock playing in them. Some classics, some alternative. Whatever made him feel something, anything. Even if it was hate. Anger. Rage. It was better than feeling numb. Not belonging.
The escalator down to his lone bag to go with his lone carry on showed his mom waiting for him. His had a type, that’s for damn sure. Not that it helped him in the genetics department as he was stuck at 5’9” to go along with his mother’s five foot even as his dad stood six foot. Forever leaving him to feel small, to pale, under his dad’s shadow. Did he ever stand a chance?
The guy next to her with the unkempt former seventies porn stache was “Dave.” He’d met him twice when his mother came and visited him in Florida. To his credit the guy didn’t look annoyed. Kind of concerned kind of which made Matthew want to break his frozen look but he was well practiced. Having removed any note of sadness from his face through much…tribulation.
His mother’s look on her face betrayed a hint of worry as the bruises on his face lightly showed up close. Saying his name was his like a distant echo that belonged to someone else.
Dave cut in and pulled out his right headphone. “What the hell bud, they knock you hard enough to hurt hearing? Your mom’s asking how you are doing.”
Matthew pulled out the other bud and grunted an empty “sorry.”
“You still have bruises after two week? What did they do to you?” His mom’s voice was full of worry. Something he hadn’t heard in….too long. Too long to make him feel anything. To ever make him believe there was any sincerity to her words. To not think her voice and mannerisms were an act. An act by someone who…wasn’t really there.
“It’s only fair. I took a nose. Fractured a couple orbital bones. Left one with having to get his jaw wired shut. And one will never walk right again for what I did to his knee cap.” Matthew said it all with a bored and disinterested tone. Perhaps well rehearsed.
“My man, handing out ass kickings, not bothering to take names.” Dave was quick to be the typical man’s man about it. Matthew wasn’t quite done yet. Lifting up his shirt to expose the right side near his kidney. Revealing a nasty scar from a six inch blade. “Luckily they gave me this first so they could rule it all in self-defense. The fuck didn’t get it in more than inch before I ruined his knee cap and then I took the nose of one of the fucks holding me.” Now he chose to smile keeping the well practiced dead look in his eyes.
No retorts. No questions. Just horrified looks on their faces. As he liked. As he preferred. They could hate him. They could be disgusted by him. But by God they would fear him.
“Well the doc did a good job sewing you up.” Dave commented uncomfortably. “Dissolving sutures. Ain’t they grand.” He smiled again and let it abruptly fall off his face and started walking to the carousel for the baggage claim.
Waiting and making small talk with Dave as his mother stood in silence. He was not the little boy she abandoned. The little boy she left with an angry man. While never hitting him. Left him in constant fear till he turned twelve and just didn’t care anymore. Something snapped. Broke. And he didn’t care if he died. Didn’t care if he stole. Didn’t even care if he killed. He just knew not to get caught. Something left over from his grandfather’s wisdom which came to make more and more sense with each passing year of life since that thing inside him broke.
Finally his bag came around and Dave went to try first to grab it but Dave practically leapt ahead of him. “Is that your grandfather’s rucksack bag?” his mother asked in a perplexed voice.
“Figured it’s been around since Viet Nam. So it’d serve me better than any of the worthless stuff they called luggage.” Dave commented after Matthew’s words. “Well hell yeah I still got mine from Desert Storm. You know the first one.” Dave laughed and Matthew eyed him oddly. Be it in the south or whether it was Alaska, country boys are country boys he guessed.
The car ride to the two people’s house, as Matthew thought of them. Was uneventful and full of vistas he imagined metropolitan types wetting themselves over. At most they meant isolation to him. Furtherness from the world as there were no mountains in Florida. And what mountains he had last seen in another state had been when he was eight. Another life, to Matthew it felt like. A life alien to him.
As If It Was Kismet Ch 2
Dave and his mom’s place was some two story type tucked into a tree line far up an elevated point. It was by no means the highest point in the mountain but it certainly felt up there.
Rocks were where the driveway should have been Matthew thought. Grabbing his backpack and rucksack from Dave’s jeep was no hard thing for him. Matthew was in formidable shape for someone his age, maybe even five years older. He had gotten a mix of fairly big shoulders and arms along with the chest to go for it when compared to most kids his age. A side effect of working out at least twice a day. First thing in the morning, some time in the evening, and the school’s gym when had had a good semester in school before he had to leave Florida.
Dave tried to come up and help him but Matthew walked past him towards the house. His mom was not sure what to make of his demeanor. Matthew was not the sweet kind boy he had once been. But she had been gone from his life essentially for a long time.
Ushering him into the house she cracked some joke he did not hear. He was too busy looking about and seeing a mix of old outdated decorating mixed with the strange and odd flair of his mother. Color contrasting against drab and dated. Like brightly painting over an old home that was falling apart he thought.
“Your room is this way Mattie.” His mom brightly intoned.
Without expressing any interest he followed his mother. Still faced and nonplussed. Just going along with the current. Pushed and pulled with its roll like a piece of driftwood.
The room was simple. A single small bed. A set of rubber weights with a curl bar and barbells. “Your dad said you were into weight lifting so we got you a bunch of stuff. Dave says it looks like his department’s gym almost. The woman’s smile felt very alien to him.
“Thank you. I appreciate it. I’ve got most of my stuff from home.” Matthew starting unpacking his rucksack and pulled out cables of repetitive and mixed colors. A single plastic barbell handle. The ruck sack could be filled with water bottles for added weight during pushups he figured. Remembering a Michael Keaton movie he watched with his dad post-Batman movies where he played a convicted killer using plastic bags filled with water for weights.
Matthew caught movement outside his lone fairly large window that could let him step out onto the roof of the house given its layout.
He saw a number of people running together through what he guessed was the backyard of the property, not that it had any fences to mark boundaries
They wore clothes that looked similar yet different from each other at the same time.”Oh those are the Johnston’s. Really nice bunch of people. Been on the mountain for a long time Dave tells me.”
Matthew looked at the group of people running and noticed the lack of resemblance. “They are related?” Matthew quizzically asked. Seeing a black and possibly a hispanic person amongst the bland looking white people.
“Oh well they are all adopted but for one or two of them…besides the parents of course. The family has a long tradition of taking in orphans they say. Real nice of them to do that don’t you think.”
Matthew looked at his mother and the hosier accent made no sense to him as he arched his left eye brow. Her and his dad were both from Florida. Born and raised. Sure her parents were from New York city but…
Matthew shook his lightly without turning to look at his mother as his vision was grabbed by one of the runners in particular. A girl of moderate height. Soft brunette. A plain beauty he figured with a slim build….and lack of remarkable breasts and rear to make any note of but….girls in general were his type at his age.
She was pretty enough. He couldn’t deny that but he found himself transfixed by her visage.
But the way she turned and looked at him, especially at that distance felt very disconcerting to him. Even if she was smiling like…she was a taste of a bright shiny day. Somehow.
Matthew’s mom noticed the exchange and smiled to herself with closed lips. “Oh that’s Vicky. She’s your age I think. Very sweet girl, who does the charity functions. You know bake sales, blood drives, car washes and the like. I think you should get to know her. Might be good for you.”
A truck horn sounded a couple of beeps in rather succession. “Oh that must be Mack, he said he might come by later this evening but he seems early.”
Matthew’s mother turned and left his room. Leaving Matthew to exchange a few looks with the alluring Vicky as she turned her head away from him to talk to the others in her group and look back at him.
Still Matthew’s left eyebrow was arched. In a way that reminded him of Spock from Star Trek that he and his grandpa used to watch on some streaming service or another.
As he heard ambient chatter elsewhere outside the house he figured to check it out as the alluring sight of Vicky would be around he figured. It was dull to stare at artwork. He was a boy who preferred jet skis and the like. Something he could ride and enjoy immensely. Even if at times it got him stabbed.
As If It Was Kismet Ch 3
Matthew sauntered out of the house and down the rockway that stood in for a driveway.
A few new people had come over from what he could first surmise of the situation. As he got closer it was obvious they were indigenous people. A couple of grown men…and a girl?
She was mousey. Maybe five foot. Hiding behind glasses and a big camo jacket that was far too big for her. It looked made for a grown man and the backwards trucker hat on her head kept her long black a beautiful mess of sorts.
She was cute in a way. A little androgynous but she had a cute energy to her. She reminded him of the more tomboyish Puerto Rican girls he had gotten into back in Florida. Given the deer corpses in the back of the truck….probably more dangerous to play with given the men in her family.
Small chatter passed between the adults when the girl noticed but turned away, trying to hide the tiny hint of a smile.
“Oh Mattie, this is Mack. He works with Dave at the sheriff’s department and John, he’s with fish and wildlife.” Matthew nodded at his mom’s words with some blankness as he looked at the deer the in the back of the pickup truck.
“Gale tells us you hunted with your dad some in Florida and Georgia.” Mack offered with a light hearted laugh camouflaged by his big simple and cheery but husky way he spoke.
Looking in the back of the truck he spoke. “We used lever action thirty-thirties and Mosin Nagants in seven-six-two-fifty-four-rimmed.” Mack and John whistled in an exaggerated fashion. Leaving Matthew to wonder if they were mocking him.
Mack spoke. “Well we just used thirty-odd-six in a custom gussied Garand.” That caught Matthew’s attention. “You have a Garand…” Matthew finally demonstrated interest in anything. “My dad has an SVT-40 and a Hakim 8mm but he always wanted a Garand but was too cheap to buy one.”
Gale, his mother, chimed in loudly. “Oh his Dad loved his guns but was such an odd duck about how he bought or why he bought them. Never made sense to me how he wasn’t a collector but he didn’t get the latest and greatest.” Gale laughed uncomfortably. At least it seemed that way to Matthew.
Matthew pointed to the girl with an underhanded pointing hand. “And who is this? A cute little mute mouse or does she have a name?” Dave and the other men laughed.
Mack again spoke. “Well you people call her Rebecca, she’s my adopted daughter.” Matthew was taken aback by what he heard. “You people?”
Rebecca kindly spoke with a soft but almost melodic voice as she struggled to maintain eye contact. “White people or rather not members of our tribe. It’s just easier to appease the colonizer kind of thing. Borrowed from when the Jesuit missionaries chased us up here.”
Mack stepped in. “It’s just easier to have white people names than have them try to say our tribal names. And we don’t want them shortening or Anglicising our names kind of thing.” Rebecca stepped back into the conversation cutting off her adopted father. “It’s an insult to our history basically.”
Matthew cocked his head sideways raising his eyebrows shortly before letting them drop. “Well as soon as I’m eighteen I’m out of here and back to Florida so I’m a sort of involuntary colonizer of sorts. So I won’t be taking any of your land from you. The Seminoles on the other hand are still shit out of luck.”
Rebecca’s smile caused Matthew to reflexively smile. Mack made the moment more awkward. “See Becca, I told you someone off the reservation would like you some. You just have to be creative.” Mack laughed in a chiding manner…Matthew presumed. He sensed that he was the butt of some kind of cultural joke. Like marrying a white guy was some sort of insult or mark of shame. That kind of thing.
Rebecca turning away from him was not something he had been expecting. Her then getting in the truck in a huff left the group in a silence for a moment.
Dave spoke to break the awkward silence. “Well just bring the truck to work on Monday and leave it for me to grab up.” Mack acknowledged Dave and they started to get off as Rebecca looked at Matthew for another instance. Matthew couldn’t look away for some reason as the two seemed to lock eyes for an instance.
Till Vicky and family seemed to come jogging down the road. While Matthew’s eyes diverted from Rebecca’s. Hers did not till she realized he was looking elsewhere. And her vision found Vicky and what had been a hint of smile on her face turned glum and disappointed.
Matthew did not look away from the vision of Vicky but instead of a starry eyed fool looking longingly. It was a baffled look. Well baffled for him, with his eyes drawn narrow and night with a focus.
There was something about her…he couldn’t quite put a name too. The way she appeared to him. One second brunette. The next second blonde or blonde like. As if the color appeared in her air and disappeared in fractions of seconds. Much the same way her body almost seemed to…shift…very subtly…smoothly. A nicer bum. Larger breasts. And then back to a simple and plain form. Feminine no doubt. Attractive. But not so…remarkable.
As If It Was Kismet Ch 4
The next two days passed without incident. Nothing of any real substance or challenge to note.
Matthew got settled somewhat and started working out almost immediately. Exploring around the woods but Dave told him not to go far. Especially without a hunting rifle. Dave had left a simple semi-auto Winchester out for him. His bear gun as Dave referred to it with its four round magazine. But Matt figured till he got some practice with the rifle to leave it alone. He made a hiking stick like his grandpa taught him and treated it over a low fire. He would take some electrical tape for the end his hand would grip around. Plenty enough to ward off anything smaller than a bear he figured.
The ride to school was a pain in the neck but simple enough. Dave would let him use a clunker pickup truck he had laying around. It wasn’t pretty but it would get him to and from. Even if it was from the eighties and still backfired on occasion. But for now Dave and his mom took him on their way to the sheriff’s department.
It wasn’t much of a school. It wanted to be modern but its fifties original construction was very obvious. It serviced the pipeline families and familys’ of fisherman who worked the seasons in between their time at the pipeline.
Matt was to report to the principal for some reason Dave and his mom wouldn’t share. Which annoyed him but he figured it was to read him the law of land. Small towns with their big views of the outside world and like.
Dressed in jeans, a grey sweatshirt under a light jacket with steel toed boots set him more apart then he expected. His buzzed head didn’t help matters. Already he was feeling like a stranger in a strange land but he was quite strange after all. And he liked it that way. Normal people were so pathetically disappointing to him.
A secretary or assistant or some such led him to the principal’s office. Where it reeked of real wood that was old and fabric and upholstery that needed to be updated for the last twenty years, Matt figured.
“This is Matthew Berkshire, Principal Andrews.” The man was turned with his back to the door and he was quick to wave her off as he turned her around.
He was an older man. Fat and large. Tall with a body built like he had once been fit and a demeanour of annoyed and irate already as he fixed Matt with a scowl and look of disgust. Another worthless government whore. Matt thought to himself. His father and his grandfather had bestowed unto him a natural disrespect for government workers and the figures that wore unjustified authority as a shield but pretended the weight of the state was not at their back ready to crush all who resisted. Little figures of valor pretending to be mighty and alone but acting with the tyranny of the state and all the backing.
“Mr. Berkshire, please sit down.” His tone wasn’t unusually hostile, just gruff. As if he had better things to do.
Matt complied and took a seat in the chair while maintaining a friendly facade. Not everyone was an enemy. And not everyone needed to be an enemy. Even if anybody could be any enemy. There was no reason to make enemies you didn’t have to. Another of his grandfather’s bastardised wisdoms.
“Well I looked over you file and you have quite the history Mr. Berkshire.” Matt resisted qiuping back a joke. Instead he waited for Principal Andrews to continue as he remained nonplussed and looking as if he felt no need to respond. A simple head tilt with dead eyes looking back at the principle as if he was not even there would suffice.
Matt’s reaction or lack of a reaction rather made Principal Andrews only narrow his eyes with examination. He was not used to a kid not responding to him. Especially with his gruff and hard act going on.
“Well by all accounts you moved here after some problems at your last school. A fight broke out and you did some real harm to your fellow students it appears.” Of course, he would take the side of the perpetrators. School administrators always did. Especially when they weren’t white. Just a fact of the times. Cowardice and pathetic mediocrity was the way they leaned, like good government workers sucking the dick of Big Daddy government. Worthless whores.
Matt chose to reply. “Oh you mean the criminals that stabbed me. Got arrested at the hospital and then pled to felonies. Yeah Florida, with the American counties are good like that.” Principal Andrews went real still. No shame. No fear. No penitence. He didn’t like that.
“Well be it as it may Mr. Berkshire we don’t tolerate that kind of behaviour here…” Matt cut him off responding with a deadpan tone. “You mean self-defense meant to save one’s own life while the cowardly and pathetic school workers look on with zero interest but to keep their money rolling in and will allow known gang members with records of violent acts and crimes that should have them expelled many times over, where in certain Democrat counties such cowardice and idiocy empowered a couple school shooters?”
Principal Andrews looked at the Matt with a note of disgust. “Look here Mr. Berkshire, your beliefs matter not one bit here. This isn’t Florida. We don’t like our way of life being disrupted by outside agitators who have problems with authority.”
Matt did his best not to roll his eyes and let the older fat man drone own as he dead-stared him. Lifeless and without emotion.
The man came to a finish and Matt spoke up without having listened to him or paid him any attention. “Great now that’s taken care of. Can I please get to class and finish my sentence of two years at your wonderful school?”
Principal Andrews huffed and snorted before calling in Vicky. Vicky stood in the corner after entering with a quiet and seamless presence. Matt felt disturbed and tried not betray his feelings as the young Vicky was perceived and not perceived to be moving.
Principal Andrews made the introductions and Matt nodded back. She was to be his chaperone for the day. They had the same classes and she was to show him the ropes so to speak. The ins and outs of the school. The locations of their classes.
He recognized her. It was hard not to. The way her appearance seemed to shift fluidly almost. The petite and skinny brunette ever so lightly had a big bust and blonde hair with curves added when she seemed to shift before his eyes. Like watching a film but each frame had a different person.
Matt didn’t say anything about it. Even if he did he would only be acknowledging his crazed state, if he had one. If.
Unlike an obedient puppy dog he got up in a slow and awkward fashion and followed behind her as his oddly disproportionate frame allowed. Causing her a note of concern for some reason. As if she was seeing something she shouldn’t have been….Or he was just weird. And Matt could admit to himself he was just weird. Part of his charm, he would jest about it at times. Not that he had many people to jest to now.
As If It Were Kismet Ch. 5
Following Vicky into the hall off to their first class was simple. She exchanged small talk and he slightly smiled as if to obviously suggest he was just being polite.
Inside his head, Matt was trying to figure out if he was having a psychotic break. The way Vicky looked kept changing and he looked at the other people around him and they stayed the same.
He was searching his mind as they were walking. And thus he wasn’t paying attention to where he was looking and so fell to his face forward over his feet seemingly out of nowhere.
A series of laughs erupted as it sunk in that he was obviously tripped. Like in prison this was a challenge to his superiority. If he let this pass he would be mocked and sneered at by this same group of boys. He wouldn’t walk to them like he was going to do nothing like a little bitch.
In a rage he turned and punched the stomach of the first face he saw. Some typical blonde haired wannabe jock. He knew from experience not to aim for the ribs. Instead he needed to aim for where he thought the belly button was.
Yells and screams blindly echoed around him as his after the punch he followed up his elbow of the opposite arm slamming into the face of the jock. Harder than a fist, the elbow struck the jock’s jaw and seemingly dropped him against a locker. Just in time to catch an errant and soft punch to the nose that sure enough hurt but did little to slow him down as his dad had taught him to fight through the pain. Blood and scars happened. They were a natural consequence of life to a man.
Taking the punch and falling further into his red state Matt headbutted the punch thrower before another guy arm bared his throat from behind. Which he managed to get his grip on the arm over a letterman jacked and jerk the unprepared boy to the side with him still latched on.
A few feet away from the lockers Matt knew his only chance was to jump and push off the lockers and knock the boy to the ground and so he did. He heard a thunk of the boy’s skull bouncing off the ground and he turned to pull out of the grapple.
The beatings he had taken from his father, the grapples, being choked unconscious. Had prepared him for fighting little bitches who didn’t know what a fight was. It wasn’t gay porn with rabbit punch fists flying.
Blood was running down his face and the pain started to hit him as the threats had been eliminated. Only then did he remember to breathe. Taking breathes as Vicky came up to him with tissues and took a hold of his nose.
“Owww owww owww what the fuck my nose could be broken.” He said to Vicky as she pulled his head up and back.
“It’s ok Carl. It’s done.” Matt tried to look to see who Vicky was talking to. It was a boy taller than his 5’9” by more than a small margin. The boy eyed him bored and annoyed before speaking. “What happened here?” An unoriginal line but one Matt couldn’t be a smart aleck about. “Well you see there was an outbreak of tripping and we all tripped over my dick. It happens.” Matt was about to laugh when Vicky seemed to pull up while still gripping his nose causing Matt no small amount of pain which he audibly evidenced.
Vicky spoke in a tone he wasn’t expecting. As if she was accustomed to issuing orders. “Keep Iris away from the hall till we sanitize the site. We have blood from at least three people contaminating the site. And have Jake bring me a spare jacket and shirt for this moron.”
Carl seemed to acknowledge her orders and seemed to blink away. Maybe the punch hit harder than he expected. He had no time to wonder as Vick took her hand away from his and pushed him against the lockers. With ease he had not been expecting from her form and stature.
Before he could respond Vicky licked his blood covered chin and then his lips and spoke to him. “Focus on me you little blood bag.” Her tone had an annoyed yet feminine sneer.
“Look into my eyes. Look at me. You belong to me. You are just another food source in a collection of food sources.” Her eyes were a beautiful hazel Matt thought. Almost green. Pretty like jewels in some old treasure collections. The eyes he could get lost in before kissing her. Finally Vicky was just a slight and petite brunette and he thought she was beautiful.
She would make a hell of a girlfriend. Some cute thing he could see laying on the beach in Florida on their sides laughing and smiling before trading light kisses while hands wandered innocently. Before his mind could drift further he felt her lips on his. It took him a second to mentally grasp the kiss but his arms were around her back as her hands were at his sides. His eyes reflexively closed as he saw hers close.
It was ineffable to Matt. Beyond words, what was happening. The kiss, the moments beforehand. The way his brain tickled with electricity and gentle warmth. He had never had a kiss like this and he had traded more than a few kisses with at least a few girls.
The kiss was like a warm bath with his consciousness slipping beneath the surface. Their lips only parted to try new angles and approaches as Matt struggled to take in breath. It was a moment he could have stayed trapped in for….he didn’t know. But a curt throat clearing by another girl pulled them out of the moment.
The girl was taller than Vicky. Blonde. With slight curves. Vicky addressed her bewildered and gobsmacked, and perhaps a bit embarrassed. “Tina?”

People say it's childish to be afraid of the dark. They say it's a symptom of an overactive imagination. And yet the same people- all people- know that you don’t go out at night, not without light or charm. And everyone knows, instinctively, in the marrow of their bones, that you don’t go out on a moonless night.
I had been out on a moonless night for days. Most people can’t tell, but once you're trained, you can- Darkness loves darkness. She likes to stretch her time out as long as she's possibly able. Everyone wants to spend time with kindred spirits. It’s nature, human or otherwise.
There’s nothing I can do about it, so I do my best to enjoy it. After all, you have to pick your battles, and my gun makes it pretty easy to figure out which ones I can win. She's a lovely gun. Big, which is fine with me, because I need all the power she can muster. Nine custom rounds rotate through, each enchanted by my own self. Not as effective as a professional enchantment, but I get by, and it’s a hell of a lot cheaper.
The only light came from the muzzle flare of my pistol. They smothered my campfire long ago, leaving me with only the vaguest sense of where they were, occasionally silhouetted against the trees when I fired. They were big, looming over me, high into the crooked trees and the moonless sky behind them. Who could say how long tonight would last?
I try not to cast on Nights, because it just acts like more of a beacon than I already am, but sometimes it just can’t be helped. My chest burned as I threw up a Buffer against a sudden wave of creatures, but they tore it down before it hardly had time to help. I bit down and cast a Warding, felt my arm burn harshly in the wild energy of the new moon and felt the following cold cut its way through my flesh and deep into my bones. Popping the spent rounds out with my right hand, my left knitted itself into the Ward shape automatically, trained by years of habit. Now I’ve really done it, I thought, because I could practically sense them perk up from miles off, even without casting a Seeing. It worked, though, and I was given brief respite for my efforts. I’d sure as hell pay for it in about 10 minutes, but for now I needed to stop bleeding and deal with the sensation of a drill pressed to the back of my skull.
“Skippers,” I growled. I hated Skippers.
The problem with Skippers is they’re small, harder to notice than anything else, and instead of trying to take off your head they try to get into your head. From there they can do whatever they want while you watch- make you walk off a cliff, bite off your own tongue, flay yourself alive. Like I said, whatever they want, and they're usually pretty mean. I’d seen them really go to work on all sorts of people, mostly people I knew and trained with. Hazards of the job- sorcerous training let you see a whole new world, but it opened you up to the threats that lived there, more so than regular folk. I was in worse shape than most sorcerers, which was part of what put me out at Night in the first place. Luckily, I’m better than most sorcerers, but it still meant I had to be careful.
To get rid of a Skipper, all you have to do is burn them off with a little Light. I'd needed the break- 3 of them dripped out of me right away, and a fourth started to run down my back as it tried to escape.
“Bastard.” I struck it with the handle of the gun as it slithered away. No sense wasting ammo on idiots like that.
The Ward wavered, the Night grew around me, and I hadn't even had time to heal anything. Damn.



Sam watched from behind the counter as the man walked through the door. Under the door, rather, as he had to duck to keep from hitting his head. He was pale, very pale, unlike the merchantfolk that usually came through the inn. His face was covered by a bushy beard, his hair was long, and his eyes were rimmed with red, but he could certainly be no older than 40. It was strange- for someone to come in so early in the morning, and look so tired- he must have been traveling all night, but he had no horse to be stabled.
The stranger was an armory- small blades and strange, bulbous jars jutted out from pockets and packs all over the man, daggers strapped to his legs, and even metal nubs in the knuckles of his gloves. What caught Sam's attention, though, was the man's huge gun, strapped tightly to his waist. He had never seen a gun that big, and the ammunition the man was carrying in the sacks around his waist must have weighed heavily on him, though he showed no signs of it.
“What does it cost for a room?” His voice did not match the tired, worn image in front of him. It was firm, and had the sound of recent laughter in it.
“Let me get my mom.” Sam began, starting for the back room. He never handled rooms.
“That's alright. You'll do fine. How much?” The man pulled out a purse, smaller than the other bags on his belt, and it was clearly much lighter than anything else he carried. “I’d like to find a bed and use it.” His voice did not betray him, nor did his hands, but the redness of his eyes did. They were a startling blue, and they seemed to contain nothing except exhaustion.
“I need your name,” Sam remembered as he directed the giant stranger to his room. The man's eyes, just for an instant, darted to one side before returning to Sam.
“Joan,” he said.
“O-kay.” Sam jotted the name down. “Two nights, food at 7 and 7, anything else you pay for.” He began to walk the man down the hall. “Strange accent. Are you from Melano, or Baden?” He didn’t really know what those accents sounded like, but he knew they were far from Newmark.
“No.” Joan walked into the room indicated with no further comments.
Sam stopped at the door while the man called Joan dropped his bags to the floor. “What kinda gun is that?”
“Mine,” he said simply, as he unbundled it’s holster from his belt. “I make the ammunition myself most of the time.”
“It's impressive. My paw was a soldier, and he showed me his old gun once, only it was a lot smaller than yours, and all rusted out besides, but-" Sam stopped as the man removed his cloak. There was a bright gash, still oozing dark blood, working its way up the man's side behind the thick leather plates. “Holy cripes! You oughta see a doctor, sor!”
Joan gave no indication that he could even feel the wound, nor did he instantly react when the boy cried out. “This? It looks a lot worse than it is. Rest, and solitude,” and here he looked at Sam, “will do me more good than any doctor from this town.” He moved to close the door, and against Sam's protest seemed to shut him out with no effort at all.
He ran down the hall to inform his mother of their newest guest.
I didn’t want the kid to see what I had to do next. It really wasn’t that bad- on the outside. Because we put so much ourselves in the spiritual world, the physical world didn’t matter so much. But it’s all tradeoffs. It had cut a pretty chunk out of me spirit-wise, and that hurt worse than any gash could. Really, I was better off than most sorcerers would’ve been with a cut like this- I had less to lose. Doesn’t make it hurt any less, though.
I Worked a minor Healing, but anything more would’ve taken more out of me than I could hope to regain, so the rest had to be resigned to sleep. Stupid. I should never have let anything get that close anyway, but it seemed like the Skippers were going crazy last Night.
I was too tired even to dream. A small blessing.

Waking up was not pleasant- I was stiff and sore, and still hurting something fierce. And cold, of course. Always cold. The physical wound had scabbed over, and I figured I would get away with just a minor scar. My innards were still shredded, but marginally less so than before, so I could breathe without grimacing. I expected I’d be laid out for a few days yet. Lucky, since Night had just passed, so things would be calm for almost the entire month now.
Exhausted as I had been, I had no Wards up, nothing even blocking the door. Nice going. Practically begging for a stray to wander in and eat you. As I flipped the coin I’d lifted off the kid, I examined the room for anything that might have snuck in, but it was clear. This time.
It was around this point that I realized how hungry I was. It had been (what felt like) days without a hot meal, and apparently this podunk little inn could provide, so I wandered out to the main room to see if I could scare up some food.
When the kid saw me, his eyes widened. That’s never a good sign. Recognition meant questions, and the answers to those questions usually meant getting pushed to the next town before I had time to heal. I had been hoping to score a decent meal and a bath, at least.



Sam could hardly believe his eyes. “Criminy, sor, but I didn’t expect you to be up at all! It's barely been a day!” The cut had been bleeding heavily, and very deep, he was sure of it, but now the man was clean and walking as if he had never been injured.
The stranger called Joan sat heavily at a table, ignoring the implied question. “Any chance of a man getting some food around here?” He inquired. “Or, perhaps,” and he glanced at the barrels of ale behind the counter, “some drink?”
San quickly filled him a tankard and plate from supper earlier, then sat himself at the table, as the crowd in the room dwindled down to a late few. The man interested him. He did not seem to interest the man, however, as Joan simply ate and drank in silence, apparently unbothered by his wound. He was still pale, almost deathly so, but Sam had heard tell of people from far north being much lighter than the tanned workers of nearby towns.
“Are you a soldier?” Sam didn’t know much about the war to the south, but occasionally troops passed through, and he had heard his ma talk in the back room about an extra levy because the Northern Kingdoms were allied. “I never saw someone carry so many weapons that weren't a soldier. What are those jars you carry? Is that them new bombs they been talking about? With gunpowder, only you throw the jar so it’s like a cannonshot?” Sam did not know much about weapons, either, but he saw so few soldiers come through that he had to learn what he could, if he was going to join the war when he was of age.
“Sure, kid.” Joan tapped his empty tankard on the table and placed down the coin he had been flipping. Sam ran to fill it up again before sitting back down.
“So did you come from the southern border, where all the fights are? What's happening? Are we winning? We have all kinds of the Northern Kingdoms working together, right? We must be winning!”
“The southern border? No, no, I didn’t come from the southern border,” he snorted. “That whole war is just nonsense anyway. The Northern Kingdoms, in some alliance or another, have had it out for Onis since time began. Maybe even before. The war is just an excuse to keep the money rolling in. Seems like there’s less and less of it than ever.” He mumbled this last part into his cup.
“That’s- that’s not true!” Sam's pa had fought, same as Sam would. “The war is important! Onis could really invade anytime! Besides, you said you were a soldier. If you aren’t fighting in the war, how can you be a soldier?” Joan did not answer, but he reached for his sleeve for a moment as if to roll it up, then seemed to catch himself at the last second. Was he a deserter? “Are you a deserter?” Sam blurted out, realizing a second late that he was pushing his luck. Joan just tapped his mug again.
Sam's ma hurried over. “So sorry for this one, sor, he has a bad habit of being curious.” She cuffed him on the ear and it smarted.
“It's no problem, mam.” The stranger smiled warmly, but in his eyes there was nothing. It was a chilling sensation. “He fills my cup just fine.” His ma dragged him off before Sam could object, and Joan got up before Sam could return.


Broder laughed as he took Flander for another hand. Three hands up, he was, and showed no signs of slowing. He stopped, though, as a big man in a heavy cloak came to the table.
“Deal me in?” His voice, deep and rich, did not match the weathered exterior. The man was no farm hand, that much was clear. More a mercenary sort. Broder glanced around the table, but no one seemed to object outright, so he shrugged. One more fool for the best poker man in the west side of Newmark. “Promise I know the rules.”
“Can you make ante, pal?” Jaten sized him up from across the table, suspicious from the long, ratty hair sitting on his shoulders and the general sense of dirtiness emanating from the man. He didn't notice what Broder had seen- nice leather, warm coat, and firm shoes. The man had some money, at least.
“He's good for it, Jaten. What's your name, stranger?” Broder gestured at the empty space next to him as he began to deal the hands. The stranger threw his ante, and Broder couldn’t hear much left in the purse. The poor ones were easy to sucker in.
“Joan.”
“You from Onis or something, name like that?” Cogen sneered.
“Na, man, listen to his voice, he's from up in Lansing or summat.” Garrett spat. “You're pickin a fight so you don’t have to deal with your shite hand.”
“That's not true, mate! Maybe you ought to keep an eye on your own mess in front of ya!” Cogen threw in extra to compensate. They all knew each other, knew the tics and tells and habits, but this stranger would be interesting.
That was what Broder thought, but as they went round for a few hands, the stranger losing more than he won, it became clear he was just another sucker thinking he could smash the small town guys. He had seemed confident at first- smug, even- but Broder had moved in with a predatory efficiency and would not let up. He offered to buy a round for everyone, apparently hoping for mercy, or to dull them, but the man seemed to be getting a bit red in the nose much faster than the well-seasoned drinkers of the little town of Aren, where there was little else to do but work or drink, or play cards. Broder began to really work on Joan for everything he had left, preparing to take the man for anything he could offer. The game was boring, and Broder needed beer money, so he went to end the man entirely.
What Broder did not expect was for the man to turn his whole plan backwards by dropping a flush when he should’ve had nothing. That cleared the table pretty fast, and Broder noticed the man's nose was really not that red at all.
The hand was nonsense. He couldn't have won, couldn’t have had those cards. “Alright, pal, roll up your sleeves, eh? Just a friendly game, here, after all. No reason to stay all formal-like.” Broder saw the other men nod their approval.
“Are you sure? Isn’t it possible, just a little, that I might be better at the game than you?” Joan smirked, taunting the men.
“Roll those up in here or we'll roll em up for ya out back,” Cogen growled. He was the biggest, aside from the stranger himself, and had a knack for bar brawling.
“Alright. No need to get snippy that I beat you so bad.” Cogen almost stood, but Joan began to roll up his sleeves. Right, then left.
His left arm was covered up to the elbow in fresh burn scars- a bright, angry red. If Broder squinted, he could almost see fine lines tracing letters across the harshly burned skin, but he didn’t have to. He knew what he was looking at.
“You're a bloody wizard, ye stupid bastard!” Garrett exploded. “Ye- ye bastard! You used magic on our all heads, ye did!”
Joan's eyes darkened briefly, but he did not react.
“Garrett's got the right idea- who's to say you weren’t using magic trickery to win the game, eh? Seems like something your lot would do,” Jaten added smartly. “It seems only fair you give us back the money you stole.”
“In the interest of accuracy, I am a sorcerer. Wizards do not leave their little towers and their little books. Besides, if I had used any magic, why would I stop now?” The stranger pointed out. “Wouldn’t it be easier to just leave, or to make you forget you ever saw me?”
“Well- there are 4 of us! Maybe you couldn’t do us in all at once, eh?” Jaten shot back. There was a chorus of affirmation from the group. “Be honorable, man, just give us the money back.”
Joan rolled his sleeves down. “If I had wanted to,” he began quietly, gravel in his voice, “I could make you all give me your land, your wives, and your unborn sons and you wouldn’t even remember your names when I was done. I did not cheat,” he suddenly smiled. “You boys just suck at poker.”
“Now listen here, son,” Broder began. “You may be some wizard from up north-"
“East,” Joan interjected.
“You may be some fancy wizard from up north,” Broder continued, “but don’t think that means you can insult us small-town folk. We might not have your ‘education’ or what have you, but we know from poker.”
Joan sighed. “I am leaving town in two days. Leave me alone for those two days, and I will forget your names, faces, and the name of this backwater town you live in. I did not cheat you.” He looked each of them coldly in the eyes, and Broder saw that all the mirth and cheer that had been there earlier had been drained, replaced with nothingness. Not even hatred, or anger, but simply blank space. The stranger stood up with a groan, signaled for another round of drinks, and trudged to the back of the inn. None of the men followed.


I was lucky none of these farm hicks knew anything about casting, or else they’d have known I was bluffing. It didn’t seem like any of them could actually read my burns, because if they could’ve, they would’ve known I could only cast a couple Bindings, and that’s if I wasn’t hurting like hell.
What was most insulting, more than calling me a wizard, was that they thought I cheated to beat them at cards. I don’t need to cheat at cards. I had slipped a bit of coin out of their pockets as I brushed by, but that was hardly cheating. Just good, honest thievery. And to call me a wizard? I ought to burn down their houses anyway, just for that. I was cold just thinking about it.
Still, I had to accelerate my schedule and leave tonight. I hated to do it, but I needed to be three towns over by the time they decided to kick the shit out of me. Bastards.
Amidst my wrathful musings I became aware of a presence at the door.
It was that kid. What had he seen? I ran the scene over again and realized he had been watching the end from the table he had been cleaning. Sloppy. He'd tell everybody. I couldn’t kill a kid the way I would've those guys in front, and I didn’t want to besides. Kids have always had a hold on me, and it pissed me off. It wasn't like I could remember why. Besides, I didn’t exactly mind the town knowing; it just meant I’d have a tougher time sneaking out, and I was tired enough that it bugged me.
“Sor?” He nudged the door open, but not all the way, I noticed. “I saw your tattoo. What do they mean? My ma said not to ask, but those men seemed pretty upset out there. I asked them and they said you was a wizard, but I didn’t think they were real. Are you a wizard? Are those tattoos your clan or something?” He spoke fast, like he thought I would cut him off, or cut off his head. “What are you doing?”
I spoke carefully to mask my distaste for his questions. “I am not a wizard. Wizards hide in their towers and ask questions nobody is curious about.” I hoped the dismissal would be clear.
It was not.
“If you aren’t a wizard, what are you?”
“What I am right now, kid, is packing, and what I’m going to be in a minute is gone. Scram.” I looked around and realized that aside from the bags I could clip to my belt, I had nothing else with me. Damn.
“Well, whatever you are, sor, I know those marks mean you're bound to help people-" that wasn’t true “-and those men out there maybe won’t tell you, but I will! See, sor, we're in mighty need of a wizard these days, on account of a monster been stealing the livestock and trashing the lumber yards and-" he slowed his speech a bit, but before I could get a word in he continued- “and I think it took the Granlenses daughter, only cause they won’t tell anyone where she went but I haven’t seen her in town at all and she used to come help me with my chores some days and it’s been a long while, maybe a month or so. Anyway, nobody’ll believe me when I tell em, and I haven’t seen it exactly, but I’m sure there’s a monster!”
“Kid, you know not every stroke of bad luck is a monster, right?” People don’t believe in monsters or magic until it’s convenient for them, which means they know nothing about it, which means most of the time they’re just making up stories to get me killed or run off, or else they’re just plain dumb and attribute every case of rainy weather to a made up beast.
“I know that! I just know there’s a monster around here! Look, sor, I’ll help you find it even, and-"
“I charge for my services and I don’t take kids on field trips when I work. Are you going to pay me?” Most of the time, threat of payment was enough to deter all but the most determined, or most superstitious, folk.
“I bet if you kill it the whole town will pitch in! Please, sor, I just wanna help out, and it seems like you could fix us all up only nobody wants to ask.” He wasn’t lying, I could tell, but kids are always seeing things that aren’t there. On the other hand, sometimes kids are better at seeing what’s right in front of them.
And when it turned out to be nothing, it meant I had an excuse to stay an extra night without getting an attempted beating, probably.
“Alright, kid. Where was this monster last?” Hired by a kid who probably couldn’t even get on a horse on his own. If anyone caught wind of this, I’d never hear the end of it.