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Synopsis:
Juliette Contzen is a lazy, good-for-nothing princess. Overshadowed by her siblings, she's left with little to do but nap, read … and occasionally cut the falling raindrops with her sword. Spotted one day by an astonished adventurer, he insists on grading Juliette's swordsmanship, then promptly has a mental breakdown at the result.
Soon after, Juliette is given the news that her kingdom is on the brink of bankruptcy. At threat of being married off, the lazy princess vows to do whatever it takes to maintain her current lifestyle, and taking matters into her own hands, escapes in the middle of the night in order to restore her kingdom's finances.
Tags: Comedy, Adventure, Action, Fantasy, Copious Ohohohohos.
Chapter 241: Until Now
The doors to the Hartzwiese Adventurer’s Guild opened.
Before, the sound of raucous laughter could be heard flooding the street outside, filling the quiet of a spring night with all the debauchery the local drunkards had to offer.
Despite the halls of adventurers not being formal drinking establishments, those within were ready to compete in boisterousness with all the taverns, inns and pubs of the town combined. And also win. Handily.
And yet–
The moment the doors parted and I stepped within, a hush as quiet as any grave fell over its inhabitants.
A woman balancing with her derrière upon the head of another became still, the alcohol in her cup the only movement as it dribbled onto a stunned face below her.
A man slurping from the communal cauldron stared wordlessly, the stew pouring in, and then out of his mouth as the muscles of his throat forgot the means to swallow.
A bartender asleep upon a row of kegs quietly rose, the sudden din of silence waking him where the sound of debauchery and those drinking from the taps beside him had failed.
Here, there, and everywhere, eyes widened as the sudden silence was filled with the sounds of my footsteps as I strolled past, my loyal handmaiden and my brother’s attendant in my wake.
And also–
Mreow.
Mrewowow.
Meww.
Cats.
Tabby cats.
Calico cats.
Ragdoll cats.
Cats with twirly whiskers. Cats with puffy faces. Cats with slightly rounded ears.
Behind me, skipping around my legs while taking turns to sit upon my shoulders and very occasionally my head, were a legion of cats of various shapes, sizes and colours.
But no matter the springiness of their whiskers, the shine of their coat or the liveliness of their tails, one thing to bring them all together was the anarchy they caused.
This was no neat line of ducklings following after their mother.
This was a barbarian horde.
With no sense of organisation other than a shared drive to claim everything as their own, they immediately skipped amidst the stunned adventurers, scavenging for all the copious scraps while still turning their noses away from the alcohol forming sticky traps upon the floor.
Saying nothing, I allowed their demanding cries to fill up the hall as I swept forwards, pausing before a wall plastered from end to end with faded notices and requests long gone unanswered.
One by one, I systemically tore every request featuring a crudely drawn image of a cat, gathering into my arms a pile of parchment large enough to reach my chin.
Then, I made my way to the wooden desk.
A receptionist waited with a smile at the ready.
“Greetings! Welcome to the Hartzwiese branch of the Adventurer’s Guild. I see you’ve removed several notices from the–”
Poomph.
Silenced but unperturbed, this latest clone watched as I dropped the stack of requests onto her desk, before promptly topping off the stack with a copper ring.
“Do what must be done,” I said, my voice defiant. “I am ready.”
The receptionist answered me with a smile more permanent than the wall the notices were torn from.
A moment later–
“[Identify].”
A green hue appeared in her clasped palms as she assessed the ring.
“Juliette. B-rank. Your registered branch is Reitzlake.”
The sound of several cups clattered against the floor.
“Welcome again to Hartzwiese. I see from your commission history that you have an extraordinary amount of completions for recovering lost cats. May I assume the significant number of cats now roaming the branch hall relate to the notices removed from the wall?”
I pursed my quivering lips.
“Maybe.”
“Wonderful. And how many cats is it that you’ve rescued?”
“... Lots.”
“I see. Please give me a moment while I confirm the requirements of our commissions.”
The receptionist swiftly retrieved a stack of parchment from a drawer.
As she flicked through, her eyes simultaneously went to every cat roaming, napping and clawing in the hall. A skill not even monstrous overseers from the abyss with their dozens of eyestalks could match. But that’s only to be expected.
Wherever these receptionists were found, it was from a level deeper than any monster dared roam.
Eventually, she gave a nod.
“Thank you for waiting. There appears to be an excess of cats in relation to the number of commissions we have available. We’ll endeavour to ensure that every cat is rehomed at the earliest opportunity through our partner agencies and charities. But unfortunately, I can only provide official acknowledgement for cats rescued through a formal commission.”
I sucked in a deep breath, hoping that patience was one of the things I accidentally inhaled.
“Fine. And how many commissions does that end up being, then? … 10? 15?”
The receptionist flicked through her bundle of parchments once more.
“94.”
“... Excuse me?”
“I can confirm the successful completion of 94 simultaneous F-ranked commissions. Congratulations. This is a new record, breaking what appears to be one earlier set by yourself. A remarkable achievement befitting a B-rank member of the guild.”
The receptionist’s professional smile never wavered.
I thought that would be the worst of it.
But then–
She slowly brought her hands together … and started applauding.
It was the leak which broke the dam.
At once, she was joined by all who were present to witness this crowning moment of regret.
I turned around in time to see a riot in motion.
“W-Wooooooooooo!!!!”
“In … Incredible …”
“A new record … I … I heard it was broken in Trierport … to think I’d witness it broken again!”
“A B-rank adventurer … ?! Where … Where did she come from … ?!”
There was no polite, respectful applause here.
It was the wild cheering of a crowd at a tournament. The whooping cries of theatregoers calling for an encore. The acclaim of my father as he elbowed others to delight in the poetry I’d written when I was 6 and thus now regularly attempted to burn.
Everywhere I turned, I saw and heard the acclaim mixed with shouts of horror as mugs of alcohol were spilled on purpose and by accident. The layabouts stomped on the floor, doing their best to murder decorum under the strain of unbridled emotion.
Only a few falling teardrops formed any hint of more dignified revelry, the glimmer of admiration running down cheeks as sniffles were hidden amidst the raucous cheering.
And then I bore witness to the most morbid sight.
Like a tidal wave of soiled clothes and snotty faces, they suddenly came as one, hands reaching out for me with dripping mugs still in their grips. Horror struck at my soul. And unlike a farmer who’d scarpered into the night, I had nobody who could heal a wound caused by hooligans accepting me as their own.
“A-Amazing!! Take my drink! Take anyone’s drink!!”
“So many cats rescued … even my allergies can’t believe it!”
“My gods, it’s a legend! An adventurer among adventurers!”
This.
This right here.
This was the lowest point of my life … were I not an unparalleled genius.
“Oho … ohoho …”
At once, the wave halted.
Faces which were lit up in unabashed delight turned to looks of mild confusion against the tinkling music of my laughter.
They needed to cycle through the expressions until they reached horror and shame.
“Ohhohohohohohoho!!”
… For I was no drunkard seeking to join their ranks!
No … I was Juliette Contzen, 3rd Princess to the Kingdom of Tirea!
And that meant every action I took, every word I spoke, and every cat I saved was for a reason beyond the hopes and dreams these hoodlums had of wanton debauchery and rusting swords!
Indeed!
A lesser princess than I may slink away into the night, cowed by the utter shame, humiliation and disgrace of completing so many F-ranked requests that I somehow broke a record I’d only just set!
But I was made of greater things!
Of schemes and subterfuges so deep that it would take too long to explain! The plots I weaved were a silken web more intricate than any cogs which made up Coppelia as she doubled up, desperately trying to stop herself from succumbing to more pain from laughter!
And that meant with every cat request now denied to these louts … they would finally do some work!
“Ohoho … ohohohohoho!! Behold and be afraid! Witness before you the coming of a new dawn, here to lift you from your days of boundless reverie! Unfurl the shutters and gaze upon a radiance so pure it brands your dallying minds! The scorching sun has come to test the snail’s back, and all that your bleary eyes see is a great salt lake to devour you whole! Shrivel as you cling upon the sweat which drips upon your brow, for that is the proof you’re yet alive!”
A sudden silence met my proclamation of their coming ordeal.
And then–
“Wooooooooooooooooooooooo!”
“I don’t understand! But what a speech!”
“If she can do it, so can we!”
I raised a hand to my lips, barely covering my smile.
“Ohhhohohohohohohoho … !”
Here it was!
Operation: Gainful Employment!
An entirely new strategy, as bold as it was uncharted!
By removing what was surely the vast majority of missing cat quests available to the adventurers of this town, they would have no choice, utterly none whatsoever, but to engage in actual work! The type of work adventurers openly advertised themselves as doing!
Monster subjugation! Crime prevention! Fetching artifacts from hidden dungeons and then succumbing to their wounds at the entrance while the Royal Treasury pocketed the treasure!
Yes, this was clearly a highly experimental tactic.
But what was I, if not a bastion of creativity?
At the very least, I utterly refused to accept the status quo! An organisation dedicated exclusively to rescuing lost cats or elbowing into my kingdom’s sovereign affairs was no good to me!
Thus … I could not cower like some towngirl nauseous from the smell of their revelry.
Instead, I would squeeze the Adventurer’s Guild dry until the day I replaced them with an army of trained poodles. Until that joyous day, I could never tear my eyes away when they waited to be robbed.
To do so was more than a dereliction of duty …
Why, I’d be an accomplice to their drunken escapades!
My vow remained unchanged. For my goal, I would brave any indignity. The ring I was hoping the receptionist would forget to return was proof of that.
And thus–
I stood tall as a summer reed, proud in the knowledge that I had no need to feel even an inkling of embarrassment over completing 94 simultaneous F-ranked commissions! …
“Pfffffffffffffffffffffffffffffft.”
“S-Stop at once! You are not to laugh!”
“Pffffttt~”
“C-Coppelia!!”
Clearly not seeing the angel of self-sacrifice who I was, Coppelia held one hand tightly around her mouth. Even so, she failed to stop either the sound of her amusement or the tears falling from her eyes.
My only salvation was that it came at significant cost to her. Even now, she careened between laughter and painful regret.
I decided to offer both her and myself mercy.
Turning to the receptionist, I found a modest pouch already waiting upon the wooden desk. As well as a copper ring waiting beside it.
“Thank you for your service to the Adventurer’s Guild,” said the receptionist, her professional smile undaunted by the commotion. “Your total remuneration is 102 gold crowns, 7 silver crowns and 9 copper crowns. I’ve taken the liberty to compile all your separate payments together.”
I took the pouch and ignored the ring.
The receptionist pushed the ring forwards.
A long moment later, I collected it, uncertain what a receptionist would do if I tossed it into the communal cauldron, but knowing it would somehow still end up on my finger regardless.
With my head held high, I bravely ignored the chorus of voices unknowingly cheering for their own hardship as I swept past. Renewed tears and applause filled the hall. A few cats attempted to follow me. I stopped to shoo them away.
And then I was outside, the door closing behind me.
“... Goodness, that was quite the sight,” said Renise with a bemused smile. “It reminded me somewhat of the inns of Reitzlake’s docks. I wonder if all the halls of adventurers are like that, or merely those which you frequent?”
“Please don’t insinuate I’m responsible for the debauchery which occurs wherever the Adventurer’s Guild is concerned. That’s something I can claim no credit for.”
“You say that … but to me, it seems that you caused quite a stir. That really is a remarkable number of cats you rescued, after all. Even I can tell that 94 simultaneous F-ranked commissions–”
“Miss Renise.”
The maid’s smile wavered against whatever fatigued expression I was making.
A moment later, it fell away entirely as she switched to her role as my brother’s attendant and the leader of whatever scoundrels he’d charged her with herding.
“... Yes, I suppose there’s time for idle conversation later. There’s a guardhouse nearby. We should report on all that’s happened tonight.”
I gave a nod of agreement.
Hopefully, the baroness hadn’t woken from her stupor yet. But if she had, I was certain the single portrait of myself I’d returned to the wall of her gallery to smile down at her gagged and bound state would calm her nerves.
Renise hummed towards the direction of Hartzwiese’s centre, before returning her attention to me.
“If you wish to keep your identity incognito, I can see guards sent to where they’re needed using my own authority, and arrange for the appropriate seizure of the goods and crowns we’ve discovered.”
I beamed at once.
My, so prudent! It’s little wonder she was chosen by Roland!
“A judicious offer. And one I’ll accept gladly, providing the burden isn’t too severe.”
“This is merely an administrative task, and little burden compared to what both yourself and Miss Coppelia regularly perform. In any event, it is only efficient. I expect I’ll be spending a significant amount of time at the baroness’s farmstead. It is quite extensive. If possible, I would like to make use of it for Rose House. I imagine having such a facility close to the Granholtz border would have its uses.”
I nodded, already forgetting the barn’s existence.
“I encourage you to use your discretion as required. My brother has put his trust in you, and so I both expect and know that you shall not disappoint in furthering the kingdom’s prosperity.”
The young woman smiled. One filled with appreciation, but also lacking ambition.
Good.
An excellent combination as far as retainers were concerned.
“Thank you. Although I worry you place too much trust in my abilities. In truth, those like Baroness Arisa would have made for a greater asset to the kingdom. Her resourcefulness must be acknowledged.”
“It is not resourcefulness my kingdom requires. It is loyalty. And hers is a pit so empty it drains others.”
“That’s true. But at least we were able to acquire some useful things from her nonetheless.”
Renise pulled out a tiny vial from the belt around her thigh.
A golden liquid was stored within, glimmering with an unnatural light.
“These were in her chamber,” she said, her eyes lacking emotion as she surveyed the bright liquid. “When we met, she actually attempted to purchase my loyalty with this.”
“A suspect vial. How quaint. And what miracle did she promise?”
“One that would wake my parents from their curse of eternal slumber.”
“... And is it?”
“I don’t believe so, no. This is one of many identical vials I found in her chamber’s desk drawer. All prominently labelled with instructions to only drink as required to stave off the effects of bloating.”
Renise returned the vial to her belt with a slightly embarrassed smile.
“It’s still useful,” she admitted. “But just not for what I require.”
I gave a simple nod as my reply.
Nothing else needed to be said.
She hoped to see her parents wake from their prison of dormancy. An understandable wish. And one I wasn’t required to supplement with the comment that no pair named the Smuggler King and the Smuggler Queen were likely to receive as light a sentence as their daughter.
I could not speak on behalf of Roland. Although I imagined that as a kind man, he would prefer not to pass judgements which were total. But as the Crown Prince, he did not have the luxury of kindness.
It would take much to change their fate.
But perhaps that’s why Renise was here, still proving true, and not accepting stomach ailment potions from a baroness.
A moment of silence followed.
Renise gave a short sigh. And that was that.
She set her eyes on the task ahead–at least until whatever words she’d parted her mouth to say were interrupted by Coppelia’s humming instead.
“Sooooooooooooooo … you just want to wake up two people eternally sleeping, right?”
A small smile met her optimistic voice.
“If a cure were readily available, I’m certain I would have found it by now. I believe one might be possible, but it would take skill and ingredients beyond any apothecary I know of.”
“Well, sure, you could go that way. But what about going straight to the source instead?”
“The source?”
“Sure. They’re asleep, right? So just ask the one in charge of where they are now.”
“I’m … not quite sure I follow?”
Coppelia clapped her hands together and beamed.
“The Spring Court is the realm of dreams. Chances are, they must have shown their faces around a few times by now. If you ask the Spring Queen nicely, she might do you a favour.”
“The Spring Queen? … The fae?”
“Mmh~ luckily, we have someone with connections here!”
Renise was startled out of her reply.
It was nothing compared to me. The one being pointed at.
“Coppelia!” I said, truly aghast at the suggestion. “The fae are not to be taken lightly. Why, I still have nightmares about my conversation with the Winter Queen! I learned a side to royalty that day which I shall never forget … and I’m quite poorer for it!”
“You met … the Winter Queen?” asked Renise, her eyes suddenly wide.
“Unfortunately, yes, but I had zero intention of meeting her, and I’ve just as little intention of meeting any other fae as well. Including the Spring Queen.”
I waved away the coming query to declare what was just as important as my lack of enthusiasm.
“Besides, I’ve not the foggiest idea how I would even hope to use these supposed connections I have.”
“Oh, that’s the easy bit,” said Coppelia, her casual disregard for what counted as ‘easy’ more terrifying than any lout I’d met today. “The hard part is getting them to do what you want. But meeting them? The fae are creatures of stories. If the time is right, they’ll speak to you–one way or another.”
“Then they must book an appointment. One which I can formally reject.”
“I mean, I don’t think you have much choice. You didn’t last time, right?”
“The last time, I was sat beside the Winter Queen’s crown. I see no fae artifacts to hook me away. And that means utterly no scenario in which I could be abducted without my express–”
I suddenly stopped, clasping my hands around my mouth.
A moment later, I raised my arms in a martial art I’d just invented, turning repeatedly on the spot.
Renise blinked at me.
“Excuse me, but what are–”
“Shhshhshh!!”
I paused, gazing intently around at the quiet, dark streets of Hartzwiese, all the while ignoring Coppelia’s giggling at my near miss.
That … That was close!
“O-Oho … oho … I almost invited something terrible. Truly, it’s perhaps best not to needlessly voice things which Fae Queens and their deviant brand of magic could use …”
Coppelia nodded at me, as proud as she was clearly disappointed.
“You’re lucky. If the Spring Queen had a sense of humour, she’d have snagged you right there and then.”
“No. If the Spring Queen had a sense of humour, she’d wait until–”
Click.
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We see a magical monster jump around a bloody building happily. It seemed extremely happy as it found the manager of the building who threw things like pencils, papers, and a chair at it but nothing in the office could harm this creature.
Creature: Nehehe! Kahahahahahaha!
Manager: HELP! HELP MEEEEE! HELP ME NOW!
The creature went to grab the man but its arm was cut off at impossible speeds. It gasped in shock. Even the man couldn’t tell what happened as he looked around the room and saw an older woman.
Woman: Heh… monsters like this have been popping up a lot. Tell me assassin what might be the cause?
The creature would regrow its arm and send a raw blast of pure mana at the woman who would easily step out of the way. A woman in a white multi-layered kimono with black hair appeared behind the monster and stabbed it through the throat.
Creature: NEGHEGharajafa!
It turned into dust being easily killed by the black haired assassin.
Assassin: I presume it’s the work of a servant and or master.
Woman: That’s correct! Good job!
Assassin: So you already know the cause behind this?
Woman: Correct! I even know the servant and master responsible!
Assassin: Alright then…
Manager: What’s going on?! What’s happening?!
Woman: Assassin.
Assassin: Yes master.
She threw her dagger into the manager's skull killing him in an instant. Assassin sighed at her order and the kill. She picked up the dagger before placing it back within the scroll she normally used to conceal the small blade.
Assassin: Master who did this?
Woman: I'm not telling~
Assassin: Ugh… fine then master.
The two women walked out of the office building the master smiling brightly.
Woman: Hmm… I wonder what Saber’s master is doing?
Assassin: Is he of interest?
Woman: I knew his father! Would you be a dear and spy on him for me assassin?
Assassin: As you wish master…
Assassin bowed and quickly disappeared leaving the woman all alone as she laughed to herself.

Leo was reading a comic book while lying on his busted-up blue couch. He didn't have a single thought on his mind aside from the words and the images placed on each page.
Just then Ky walked into the room with an immaculate keychain in his hand. He held it up and passed it towards Leo who grabbed it as it flew above his head.
Ky: Here it was made back in Japan’s Heien Era.
Leo: What is it?
Ky: A cursed chain. While you have low mana it converts the lack of mana you have into physical strength. Therefore-
Leo: I can be super strong!
Ky: Basically. Just keep it in your pockets. I had the pull a lot of strings to get this from my sensei.

Elegant: You want it? Beat Shine in hand to hand! No powers just skills!
Ky: HOW AM I MEANT TO DO THAT?!

Ky: Ugh…
Leo would shove the chain back into his hoodie pocket. He gave a bright smile and placed his comic book down crossing his arms and leaning over the back of his couch.
Leo: So! What is the plan to win this war?
Ky: We need to get you trained up preferably. And we need to exterminate every master in the war.
Leo: Can’t we just… let them all kill one another and pick the last guy off?
Ky: Nope. Most likely they'll come for you while you try this strategy anyway. Even worse is the possibility the final master and servant standing could be an extremely bad matchup for Saber.
Leo: I guess you're right…
Ky: Now then… GUNPOWDER!
Guns appeared behind Ky who shot at a wall next to the bullet manifested the black-haired assassin servant.
Ky: Assassin!
Leo: Oh shit!
Ky’s technique is “Mental Recreation” This powerful ability has him use up his mana to create objects based on certain topics. These topics are gunpowder, transportation, death, nature, and war. These objects are limited to what Ky subconsciously associates with these words whenever he hears them. He can summon these objects with a hand sign or by saying the topic of origin. However, he can not create actual life. But his technique is based on his own interpretation. So if learns to interpret his limits differently his technique will respond in kind!
Ky: Death!
Skeletons appear from the floor but Assassin cuts both their heads off in a moment using her scroll.
Leo: Woah… she's fast…
Ky: If I had to wager a guess… I would say she's faster than Saber and closer in speed to Lancer.
Leo: You can tell that just by her attacking once?!
Ky: I am good with my eyes…
Leo: Saber!
Saber from the front porch came rushing into the living room switching from her casual clothes to her armor and pulling out her misty blade ready to fight.
Assassin: It would seem I'm outnumbered.
Ky: Wow she can even count!
Leo: Why are you even hear?
Assassin: I am here solely on orders from my master. I have no intention of fighting but if you force me to…
Leo: Oh fuck that!
Leo went to punch her in the face and Assassin ducked under grabbing him by the throat and personally slamming him through a wall the sunlight now radiating through the hole made within the wall.
Ky: Gunpowered!
A canon ball appeared a mere 2 inches from Assassin’s face and the second the canon shot she managed to dodge out of the way within an instant. She ran up and shoved the scroll into Ky’s shoulder stabbing through and making him bleed as she jumped onto the coffee table.
Ky: Damn it… some kind of concealed blade…
Saber: I don't wish to destroy Leo’s home… but I want to take out Assassin as soon as possible!
Saber sighed and rushed forward at incredible speeds that still were outmatched by Assassin who managed to dodge each slice of her blade before kicking Saber in the gut before roundhouse kicking her in the face sending her into another wall and cracking it.
Assassin: Strong as you all are I'm simply too fast for you all.
Leo then just grabbed a potted plant in the corner of his room as she wasn't paying him any attention and hit her in the back of the head with it stunning her so Saber could get back up, run, and stab Assassin in the shoulder.
Assassin: AHHHH!
Assassin cut Saber’s arm and elbowed Leo in the face before running out of the hole in the wall she made earlier.
Saber: Master!
Leo: What did I say about calling- actually I do not care…
Saber ran towards Leo who'd been sent to the ground on his ass. He seemed fine as he stood up holding onto Saber.
Leo: I am fine don't worry ok?
Saber: If you insist master! But should I give chase to Assassin?
Ky: Would not recommend it. She's clearly highly skilled. Even if you are probably stronger than her chasing her down might be a bad idea.
Leo: Yeah what Ky said! But what am I gonna do? Am I not safe in my own home now?
Saber: I'm afraid it seems you are not Leo…

Assassin walked into a large mansion on top of a hill and entered a bedroom.
Assassin: Master!
The woman turned to her with a sly grin pasted upon her face. She was currently sitting on her wooden chair while writing something in a notebook.
Woman: Assassin!
Assassin: I am afraid they spotted me rather quickly.
Woman: Did you kill any?
Assassin: No master…
Woman: Perfect! I don't want them to die before they know my name… Isda!
Assassin: Why?
Isda: That is for me to know Assassin! Me and me alone!

Gilgamesh sat upon his throne. Among all masters and servants in the holy grail war, he alone stood as the honored one. He viewed through on of Pat’s crystal balls the events that transpired between Assassin and Leo’s group.
Gilgamesh: That Saber… she's quite strong. Even with the master holding her down. And the Assassin is quite boring to me.
Pat: A-Archer-
Gilgamesh: You know nobody is watching us use my true name peasant!
Pat: Forgive me Gilgamesh! But why are we sitting in this pocket dimension?!
Gilgamesh: Simply to protect you from getting killed. You are quite weak and well I won't have any fun if you die. Even I can't sustain myself without a master!
Pat: O-oh I see…
Gilgamesh truly was a king!

I'll start by giving some information about me. I'm a 21-year-old AFAB college student. I currently live in my college town in a little condo by myself. A childhood friend and her mother were kind enough to let me have it all to myself for a great price. I don't have to pay utilities, and it comes with a parking space. On top of that, it has felt safe since the neighbors are mainly elderly people and families. The only person I've had an issue with is my next-door neighbor. I'll call him Clay. He has introduced himself and I've noticed him try to make eye contact with me so I would look at him. Nothing crazy, but I've never had a good feeling about him. Neither has my sister, my friend, and my partner. I've learned to trust my gut because it has made some good calls. Luckily, I'd hardly see him around and when I do he doesn't try to engage. That was until last Wednesday.
Around sunset, I was taking out the trash. The garbage area holds two giant dumpsters and is surrounded by a brick fence and is closed by a wooden gate with a latch. This context is important. As I was walking I heard footsteps behind me. Thinking it was just an elderly neighbor going to their car I wasn't alarmed, but then I noticed they sounded too close and were coming from behind me. I glanced over my shoulder to see Clay walking behind me, also going to take out his trash. My gut told me I was not safe so I quickly went in and threw my trash in the dumpster and tried to rush out. As I was trying to leave Clay quickly asked, "You're my next-door neighbor, right? My name's Clay what's yours?" I froze; a deer in the headlights moment. I was cornered. He was in arms reach and he had his hand on the gate and I just knew I had to be gentle. So I told him yes and my name and he told me it was nice to meet me to which I said it back and quickly sped walk back into my condo. It took a little bit for the adrenaline to go away and I started crying. Up until now, I haven't had a terrifying interaction with a man. I had never been that scared and so vulnerable in my life. I was worried he was going to take that as an excuse to try and become more 'friendly' with me so I stayed the night at my partner's (we'll call them Alex) place. Unfortunately, that was just the start.
The next day I had an art exhibit at my school that I needed to go to so Alex and I returned to my condo so I could get ready. This would be a great place to mention that these condos have a shared backyard. So if Clay wanted he could go out his sliding door and take 5 steps to get to mine. And truly, what can a glass door do to stop someone who really wants to get in? Anyway, my friend's mom is religious and isn't comfortable with Alex and me being alone in the condo (weird but it's hard to complain since it's a great deal). So they have to walk around back (past Clay's condo and sliding glass door) to where I will let them in through mine. Alex was waiting for me in front of MY condo but it seems Clay thought otherwise. Cause while Alex was waiting for me Clay opened up his window and asked for their name. Alex gave him a fake name and Clay said "Ok. Just wanted to know the name of the guy standing outside my house."
Later, Alex and I returned to my condo, but when we got there Clay was talking to my upstairs neighbor. We were about to walk toward my place when we noticed Clay was standing in the way of me getting to my front door. We tried waiting for him to go back to his house, but then he started walking towards us. When he approached us he looked directly at me, didn't acknowledge Alex, and asked me if he could use my phone to call his mom. Keep in mind, this man looks like he's in his 30s, why would he not have a phone? Alex intervened and said we're in a hurry so Clay let us go but did not believe us. As Alex was walking around back Clay aggressively told them, "By the way. Stop walking around my house." Alex assertively told him back, "My fucking partner lives here" and kept walking. Both of us felt unsafe at that point since what Clay said sounded like a threat so we headed back to Alex's place.
Now to the latest thing that happened. Yesterday, I was trying to move stuff out of that place since my lease is ending soon anyway and my family, Alex, and I determined it wasn't safe for me to live there anymore. Thankfully, Clay had just gotten picked up by his parents right before we got there. While packing as much as I could, I decided that I should go talk to my upstairs neighbors to see if they knew if Clay was leaving anytime soon. Alex and I have noticed that his condo is looking more barren over time. Shit truly hit the fan in this conversation.
She told me that Clay is a paranoid schizophrenic who is refusing to take his meds. She advised that if Clay were to make us feel threatened again we should call the police since they already have a record on him. She gave me her phone number and even offered her home to hide out in case of an emergency. After the conversation, Clay had gotten dropped off again. I had my car parked outside MY condo since I was moving things into it but he had a problem with it. He stormed upstairs to my neighbor's house and began yelling and cursing about how my car shouldn't be there and that he wanted to come downstairs to talk to us. I am so grateful for her, she managed to calm him down and we quickly left after that.
Needless to say, I am no longer going to the condo alone for the time being. I still have some stuff in it, but I'm going to wait for my dad and brothers to be there. I still don't truly understand why my partner and I had to become a target/trigger for him. It's terrifying and this all feels like a nightmare. I have to go back for other things and I'll update this if anything more happens. Thanks for reading.

ACT 1. Sunday afternoon after visiting the local market two brothers wait for their train to arrive. If they were even a minute late, they knew their mother would surely scold them and scold the elder of the two far worse. The idea of another beating did not bother the elder brother; he had been through far worse just dealing with the brat and his attempted jailbreaks, though something did begin to make him painfully nauseous forcing him to feel pressured by the light breeze as if gravity had suddenly been increased tenfold. All his senses were heightening beyond anything he had thought possible.All around him he saw that the once energetic and hyperactive passengers had become little more than mannequins; their movements slowing to a standstill. They had all gone silent. The station was no longer filled with the cries of children or the gentle laughs of their parents. He had never heard such silence in such a crowded location. He did not feel panicked, nor did he feel a need to act for this silence was oddly comforting to him. However, the newly calm atmosphere would quickly be the source of a lifetime of suffering.His hand began to reach for his brother in an attempt to call his attention. Though in a moment of both unprecedented shock and exhaustion John shoved his younger brother onto the rails of an oncoming train. Local news would report the incident as nothing more than a tragic manic episode of a young sixteen-year-old. However, for John this single visceral instant in which all of his brother's bones were instantly crushed was stretched into hours. He was painfully aware of how every bone in his brother's body contorted in inhuman ways some nearly resembling perfect right angles, until eventually, they snapped and sent insurmountable pain throughout his nervous system. His blood curling screams were made mute by the screech of the train coming to a halt, though, by the time they stopped, his brother had torn his every vocal cord and had long ago lost consciousness. Still on the platform, the elder brother stood still, attempting to process what exactly he had done. He had no idea what force had compelled him to push his brother, but that instant would forever define what he saw as reality.That however was nineteen years ago, in present day he lived in isolation far from any person. He spent his isolated days wandering the land around his cabin completing house chores that distracted him from reminiscing about his days in the asylum or as he liked to call it “The Echo Room” where he was transferred after the incident. He headed inside after spending a portion of his morning counting all one-hundred-and-thirty-two trees that were showing signs of life after the harsh winter that nearly forced him to cut down two of them for firewood. Once inside he began preparing his morning coffee when he heard a loud creak come from the hall. He (after many incidents) learnt to avoid the boards that creaked, so in his mind immediately an intruder was breaking into his cabin searching for food or his stash of special edition coffee. Deciding to investigate he walked towards the noise when suddenly he heard two knocks at his front door. Confused and slightly worried, he proceeded to walk towards the door making sure not to step on any of the annoyingly loud floorboards.He approached and looked through the peephole and saw only what remained of the melting snow outside. Opening the door, he saw that only his steps led to the doormat. He glanced around and saw no indication of any life aside a few dark patches on the snow. He was about to close the door when he noticed a tiny red package wrapped in a radiant red bow placed clear from where the door would open. Cautiously picking it up, he noticed how it had almost no weight to it; as if empty. He walked inside and sat at his desk planning to journal later about the weird morning he had been having. He examined the exterior of the package and saw how not only was it near perfect condition but it was also slightly warm to the touch; as if recently held. He undid the bow and cautiously opened the package, half expecting an explosive of some sort. Though, all he found was a ragged ripped piece of paper. Unremarkable aside from the fact that it was inside such a carefully constructed package. On the other side he saw that it had some scarlet lettering inscribed into it reading.“Ouroboros”. At first believing it to be a prank by the kids who had heard rumors about him, and his incident, nearly caused him to dismiss it entirely deeming it little more than a slightly humorous event. He decided to put it aside for now as he had coffee left to drink that was quickly getting cold. He walked back towards the kitchen still distracted by the idea of no trace being left by whoever had left the gift. Was it even a gift? Maybe it was just some well-executed prank? In any manner he would later have a better look at it. He absentmindedly, reached for his cup and immediately pulled his hand back shocked by the temperature of the cup. It was frozen! Almost to a complete solid. He thought himself slightly distracted but not enough to freeze his morning coffee especially not his special edition coffee. First The Box and now this, it was all adding up to an annoying morning. Was it still morning? No, that’s not right. He had just spent the day counting trees. How could it still possibly be morning?The thought of Dr. Lumis being correct about his mental condition after so many years sent a chill down his spine especially since last time they talked, he did not exactly behave amicably. He was sure that both incidents had been isolated events that could never happen again. Sure, he had heard the echoes every once in a while, but he was never insane like the others; this he knew to be a fact. If he was insane, how could he have ever left? Disoriented and beginning to sweat, his legs suddenly gave out causing him to fall backward landing on the cold wooden floorboards. He looked around hurriedly expecting to see an intruder that had somehow found him. After seeing nothing but his pristine furniture, he steadied himself and began to control his breathing. He slowly got up causing the wood underneath to creak under the sudden release of weight. Deciding to further assure himself he went around the cabin checking in all four rooms. He found nothing aside from his own disturbances. Still feeling slightly nervous and disturbed he headed back towards the living room in search for The Box with the red bow determining that it had somehow triggered his current situation. The Box was still where he placed it; much to his relief. He sat down. He looked once again at the scarlet lettering.
Act 2. Back in the asylum he would often spend his days wondering how he could have ever been grouped alongside individuals who had purposefully and viciously committed heinous crimes against innocent victims. He was not insane like them. Whatever had caused his hand to shove his brother had long abandoned him. His routine now consisted of cleaning whatever mess the older residents made in the halls and transporting lab waste to the crematorium. He would clean from the southern stalls all the way to the northern cemetery and make his rounds gathering the waste from the rooms. It was a simple job but lonely, nonetheless. The halls were often only illuminated by tiny flickering red lights that indicated the position of the cameras through which Dr.Lumis would often monitor John during his nightly crusades. Though incredibly distasteful, John did not mind, he accepted that odd situations would be easier to explain if someone of credit had seen them. Yet despite this, he felt he was being watched by someone other than the doctor. He assumed that this feeling was due to the paranoia he had been diagnosed with a few months back. On a particular night, moments after dumping another bag of soft solids and dense liquids down the chute, he heard footsteps, just outside the room. Expecting to see the doctor he begrudgingly walked towards the door. Exiting and seeing no one he called out for the doctor but got no response aside from the echo of his own voice. He began to walk towards where he had heard the footsteps come from when he suddenly collapsed out of exhaustion. The same exhaustion that had plagued him during the moment of his brother’s death. He tried to reach for his panic button (a gift from Lumis) but it had disappeared from his chain. He tried to scream but not a single whisper was heard. He gazed into the dark corridor where he had thought Dr.Lumis had gone, but saw nothing but soft shadows. Though something was unnervingly wrong about them. They moved as if following an order, all synchronized, all heading towards him. That night in the asylum had left him scared to even return to the disposal area; he feared that The Shadows might eventually be able to reach him. The Shadows did not haunt him unaccompanied: they followed alongside The Echo tormenting his nights. While The Shadows could not reach him during daylight, he could never escape The Echo. It followed wherever he went and tracked everything he did. Dr.Lumis explained that he merely suffered from an extreme case paranoia but John saw the others; who yelled and who screamed true nonsense, he was perfectly aware of himself and the ones around him. Dr. Lumis secretly believed patient #132 experienced Hyper-sanity though this he would never verbally confess. It was term he decided would for now adequately describe his patient’s acute awareness of The Shadows and The Echo. John would for many years go without hearing The Echo after that night, only ever hearing what seemed like the final moans of a dying voice. Back in present day, he hoped he wasn’t suffering another hallucination as they tended to leave him in an embarrassing shocked state. He questioned what “Ouroboros” could possibly mean in relation to himself. He considered the possibility of it being an early warning of some threat to the sanctity of his home. He quickly dismissed it as he had not interacted with anyone long enough to possibly annoy them. Weird them out? Sure. Offend them? Maybe with his sense of fashion. Following his incredibly fine-tuned survival instincts he put on a light coat and went outside to walk among the trees. A mundane task, but one he truly enjoyed especially since he hoped it would distract him for a short while. Just before he closed the door behind him, he took one more look at The Box sitting on his desk and decided to take it with him in case he met the person who had left it. The sun had begun to set marking the end of the day. He watched the sun hide behind the mountain range letting the world bathe in darkness for another night. John did not dislike the night (he had worked nightshifts in The Echo Room for years) but he didn’t find the freezing cold to be ideal. He had not left his land for what was a few years now and the idea of even slightly stepping out of his comfort was making him incredibly anxious. Still, he walked forward towards wherever the path took him. The night only got darker and quieter, and he only got colder. He did not see the lightning bugs that usually warded away the dark near the edge of his hill. Without the soft hum of bugs or soft breeze that would brush against his beard he felt alone. Even the nights back in the asylum did not possess this level of quiet. He kept moving hoping that eventually he would find something that could break the uncomfortable silence. As he continued down the hill, he realized he could no longer distinguish the path from the dirt surrounding it. He considered heading back when he realized he had not kept track of where he had come from. Not only was he lost but alone with his thoughts and whatever had been watching him from the start. He walked a step forward and then another one back repeatedly. What he was attempting to achieve was beyond reason. Had he gone mad? No, he was perfectly sane. “Wait, I can hear them clearly now” he spoke, his voice dried from the cold.“This is not a hallucination” he spoke softly.“i-I AM NOT HALLUCINATING” he proclaimed. He heard The Echo once more though they were not of his voice but rather of Another. He had long been aware of “The Echo” but he could never fully determine whether it was a dream or an effect of the chemicals but this Other was undoubtedly real. “I don’t know where you are but please. Are you real?” he asked the night. He could now hear The Echo or rather feel the pressure of its words upon his reality. Had it been trying to hide the Other? He walked forward and pulled out The Box. “You gave me this right? What for? What purpose does it serve?” No one responded.Annoyed, he threw it as far as he could down the hill. “THERE! THIS CAN’T CONTINUE WITHOUT IT, RIGHT?” He shouted at the endless empty. That’s when out of the darkness emerged a faint light. Was it a lightning bug or maybe a sign of civilization?
Act 3. Cautiously, he approached the cold light and saw that the light was artificial. The tube inside flickered before another appeared a few feet ahead, and then another and then another and then what seemed like an uncountable amount more. He took a step forward and noticed that the ground underneath had turned to hard white tile. Accepting that this was not the weirdest occurrence that had affected him he proceeded to walk forward making sure to keep a mental note to journal about it later. The surrounding landscape transformed into white walls that every so often had a window that let him peek at the other side. At first, he could still see the snowy landscape, but it to slowly changed; first having scattered papers and then chairs, cabinets, and desks until they eventually resembled a typical office. Its purpose was not obvious to him, and neither was the hallway but if they were changing surely, it possessed a deeper metaphorical meaning that related to his life. He saw a door at the very end of the hall and decided to not postpone the ploy of whatever “The Echo” was planning. He stood before the door wondering about what it could possibly contain. John proceeded to open the door. Inside was a desk along with a single cabinet. Walking inside he noticed that the room was illuminated by some otherworldly source that had no words that could possibly describe it. He walked towards the desk and a file he had not seen previously, sat open. Inside was a description of his physical appearance. “Age: 35. Height: 5’8. Weight: 185 lbs. Hair: Black with obvious signs of stress. Eyes: Brown. Character Aptitude: High.” “Okay, I get it. I’m old, you didn’t have to expose my hair like that” he said slightly embarrassed quickly restyling his hair. He noticed that even though they had an almost perfect description of his hobbies, dreams and wishes they did not have a single picture as if they for some reason were only able to use words. “SOOO you know about that one time in the asylum (don’t ask) BUT NOT A SINGLE PICTURE? That’s lame.” he said mockingly. On the final page he found what looked like an incomplete file; most of the personal attributes had not yet been filled and only a note was made reading. “They don’t need a complete story just one they can understand.” Besides the fact that whatever role he played in this act had been a mere afterthought; he was confused as to how anyone could have ever gathered such sensitive and personal information about his isolated life. Was it The Echo? Had it told them his life? A phone started to ring somewhere in the room abruptly breaking the silence he had become used to. He quickly rotated towards the source of the ringing but did not find anything. There was only him and the four walls that despite the lighting did not change a shade of grey. He walked towards one of them that seemed to be where the noise came from resting his hand on it and gently put his ear to it thinking that the ringing was from another room entirely. The wall he had just laid a hand on had no longer a physical representation and causing John to fall through to the other side. Disoriented he slowly looked up and saw The Telephone illuminated by what seemed to be the same light that illuminated the previous room. This one however was far more powerful and concentrated solely on The Telephone. He approached it expecting a chasm to somehow appear underneath his feet. The Telephone did not stop ringing and only seemed to increase in intensity (though this could have simply been a hallucination). He lifted it to cut the blaring noise and slowly put it to his ear. “hello?” “…” “…” “The protagonist only dies if the story ends” the voice said quietly. “HUH? YOU DRAGGED ME HERE TO TELL ME THAT OMINOUSLY ANNOYING LOAD OF *********!” “…I’m so sorry” The call disconnected not out of offense but rather out of completion. John slammed the phone back onto its stand and decided it was time for this nonsense to end. He walked out into the room he was in before anxiously attempting to find another exit: only to be met with solid walls. What wicked game had he been roped into? When would it end? These were questions he would answer far earlier than he expected. A door appeared in the center of the room. No, it was more of a two-dimensional plane that appeared to be a sort of portal. With no other options, John stepped into the newly opened portal.
Act 4. On the other side was a station, and his ears were immediately flooded with the cries of children and the laughs of their parents. He walked around moving through the crowd careful to not miss any indication of the location. His pace increased as he began to recognize the commuters shortly realizing exactly where he was. He rushed to a platform, the platform where he and his brother were to arrive after their day in the market. He sat on a nearby bench committed to saving his brother no matter who he would have to shove instead. Three agonizing days passed with the daily commuters repeating their routine with the slightest variations. One of these variations would be the key to preventing the day that haunted his nights. Something would soon cause him to shove his brother onto the tracks. He was determined to stop the fall or kill himself to keep his brother safe.He heard a familiar laughter and turned towards the source and saw his brothers face uncontrollably laughing and himself lightly smiling. He began to run towards them but felt once again suddenly exhausted. As if the air became a type of nonnewtonian sludge making his legs impossibly heavy. The crowd around him seemed to be moving just as easily as before; children laughing just as maniacally and just as carelessly. He tried to yell to them, but his lungs were filled with the dense fluid drowning any screams he attempted. He was forced to watch how his brother got closer and closer to the edge. Through much effort, he managed to get close enough to extend a hand towards his past trying to desperately push him away from his brother. The past reacted in what seemed to be a defensive system and sent a temporal anomaly throughout the space his past and present inhabited. Time began to exponentially speed forward. In a last desperate attempt to prevent his brother’s death he tried to distract the past long enough to let the train pass without incident, but the temporal anomaly caused the relative slow velocity of his touch to have the effect of a sudden jerk and in his final moments of consciousness he saw his brother accelerate towards the rails in a split second. He awoke back in the office alone with nothing, but the realization of what force had killed his brother. He curled into the fetal position and began to cry; still believing his lungs to be filled with the dense liquid he did not let out a single sigh. He spent several hours in this state of painful silence without even opening his eyes. His emotions were chaotic and his thoughts unending. They tormented him for hours far after he had run out of tears to let out. They were merciless and torturous forbidding him from resting, insisting on his suffering. Being the cause of his brother’s death nearly caused him to go insane yet part of him kept insisting that Another was to blame. Another had caused him to do it. The Other had forced his hand. Of this, he was now sure. The Other enjoyed his suffering, The Other forced him to kill his brother. He had not eaten nor slept in what seemed like years and yet he stood up defying the gravity that held him down. He took a deep breath of as much oxygen as his lungs allowed and began to speak. “Whoever you are. Whatever you are. Wherever you are. Just know I will no longer play for your entertainment the rest is entirely my choice” he said threateningly. He then began to walk forwards confidently towards the dark wall and through the hidden door that he was not supposed to see. He entered what seemed to be a studio room though, unlike the sterile office; it was trashed. Papers littered the floor and empty bottles populated the lone mattress. On it laid a journal that had recently had liquid spilt on it. He picked the journal and gently opened it and began to read. It was scratched with the stray ideas of a creator who seemed to have never decided upon an end or beginning to his story; yet possessing the journey. He saw many ideas that together seemed to create a way for the continuity to depend entirely on Another rather than itself. A thought described in a single word interested him enough to take it with him. The room started to dissolve around him transforming into a cold landscape. Armed with the knowledge of who he was he treaded what remained of the worn-out path. The sun began to rise signing the start of another day, yet John did not seem to notice as he was focused on something buried in the snow. He could not see much of it yet he knew it was The Box he had thrown the previous night. He dug it up and began his walk up the hill once more. He eventually arrived at his cabin and walked towards his front door….
Act 5.
If you wish to rebel; continue reading on the next page.
Begin the story once more on Truth 2.
If you wish to ward away The Other; don’t read any further
If you wish to follow The Echo read Truth 3
To understand turn to Truth 4
Truth 1
…Before deciding that no longer would he be a puppet for someone’s amusement. John arrogantly began marched back down the hill and headed north towards the nearest interstate a few miles from his home hoping that he had derailed The Echo’s plot. It took him hours on foot, but he would eventually come across the road and start his journey back to civilization no longer subject to the whims of an Otherworldly Audience. He believed his future was now his to decide. He decided what he would become. He decided when and what to think. This he was sure would be how he escaped his torment. John suddenly suffered a complete body collapse and fell forward landing face first onto the scorching road. It would be several sweltering hours before anyone would find him. But eventually someone did, john suffering heavy burns and on the brink of death was saved. He would awake months later in a hospital bed though no one would ever know of this. Weeks would pass as john laid in the hospital bed unable to speak or even move; alerting no one to his consciousness. The doctors and nurses were busy with whatever important patients needed immediate attention; they walked from one end to the other in what seemed like mere minutes. The entire time the only company he had was The Echo and yet slowly it too seemed to forget his existence as well. Eventually The Echo having no interest went away.Jane a third-year medical student had recently joined the staff a month prior and had already been assigned two elders and one child. Though overwhelmed she did not grow annoyed nor frustrated; she loved her job and by proxy her patients. Despite her benevolent nature there was a single patient she never went near as he always seemed to be watching her despite his eyes being shut for over four months. Any time she got near to patient #132 she would begin to get nauseous and quickly retreat. She had no ID on the man, but it seemed he was dehydrated for far longer than should’ve been possible and should be by all accounts dead if not near it. Whenever she worked nightshifts, she would swear that she heard the man whimper slightly as if to warn her of something. Even when she was on the opposite side of the building, she would hear the echo of his groans. She would eventually be transferred and would soon forget the man who after 6 months was officially declared braindead and was due to be disposed of, yet she would still every once in a while, still hear The Echo. Forgotten Ending
Truth 2…Realizing that there was no other choice John took a step forward while placing the note he ripped from the journal into The Box making sure to keep it neatly packaged. He saw the footprints he had left two nights before and carefully stepped into each one making sure to not disturb the surrounding snow. Whatever…Whoever had set him on this path allowed him to live a life of suffering, a life of loss, and a life of pain. This, he felt was the way things were intended to play out; the way it had to end. He placed The Box on the final step making sure it would not be knocked away whenever the door would eventually open. He walked away nearly to the edge of the property when he looked back once more. Managing to peek inside he saw his past still making his coffee when he saw an almost invisible distortion appear near the front door. He smiled and turned away only saying…Freedom ending
Truth 3…though spotting a disturbance near the back of the cabin distracted him from the front door. He decided to investigate for fear of losing a single blossoming tree. Arriving near the back fence he saw no indication of a disturbance giving him much needed reassurance. He heard noise emerge from inside the cabin giving him one more dilemma to deal with. He headed to the backdoor making sure to not disturb the recent snow and entered the cabin. Being sleep deprived and without coffee he had forgotten about the wooden floor and stepped on one that caused a creak to be heard throughout the cabin. He quickly hid in the bathroom fearing that he had disturbed the continuity that The Echo had established when suddenly a bright flash blinded him. He found himself at the front door next to The Box. Slightly amused he proceeded to knock on the door and was soon after transported once more to an empty hall. Both confused and entertained as he was being transported from one place in time to another he took a few steps forward alerting the past to his presence. Seeing his past enter the hall he ducked and quickly hid around the corner. His past seemed to believe that the doctor was in the halls and decided to investigate though just as he was nearing closer; his past collapsed. John saw how his fall was slowed as if moving through the dense liquid he had once gone through. He walked towards his past and noticed an old fashioned panic button that would instantly call Dr.Lumis to his location. Measuring the consequences, he decided to remove the panic button and head back towards The Shadows. For a third and final time he was transported to a final location, the bottom of a snowy hill. Taking in his surroundings he noticed burn marks on the snow where his past would eventually walk through the portal whenever the past caught up. He reached into his pocket and realized how the plot was supposed to move forward. He walked until he reached the exact point where his past would once again find The Box. He kneeled and buried The Box making sure to erase any evidence of his own disturbances. Fully fulfilling his purpose John collapsed. The End.
“Did the hero die?” “What?” “Did he die?” “No? He beat the bad guy and saved the day remember?” “Yea but like AFTER.” “Well, I guess after a few years he would.” “No” The young child said growing annoyed, “when you said, “The End” did he die?” “No.” responded the elder brother. “Then what happened to him? Is he still alive?” “The protagonist only dies if you stop reading.” concluded the elder brother as if possessed. Begin again?
Truth 4…Then just as he took his first step forward everything began to rot. His trees, his home, his coffee, all of it was slowly eroding into a fine dust. He knew that another temporal anomaly would be the likely cause, but he had not yet experienced one that possessed this level of molecular destruction. The fabric of his reality was slowly and thoroughly being untangled into its most simple of compositions. It separated the light from dark, gravity from time, and words from spaces.John could now comprehend what had defined his reality for so many painful years, he finally understood The Narrative and how all possible endings had been chosen long before his creation. John had been a slave from the moment The Narrative began; not once in his entire existence had he ever had a real choice only walking paths already treaded by Another. He was nothing but a plot device in an otherwise self-indulging tale written by a gentle master forced to be cruel for those above. From the moment this story began, John was in pain. He could never hope to truly escape; he could only die until he arose once more. Had John never understood what his life really was then maybe he could’ve found meaning in his suffering. Unfortunately, this choice has now forced John to become aware of how truly meaningless his existence was. His life was little more than entertainment for The Other; they were the ones truly in control. For as long as The Other remained, The Echo would doom John to eternal suffering. The Echo was never in control of The Narrative; he too was merely a subject to it by an even greater force. The Echo did not wish for John to suffer but The Other would not allow John to live if he did not. It is a toxic cycle of pain, suffering and realization that forces John to relive The Narrative lifetime after lifetime. The Narrative must have suffering intertwined into its foundation otherwise The Other would grow bored and erase the reality ending John in but a mere thought. Don’t you see? Don’t you understand? This is reality; John cannot exist without pain, The Echo cannot live without a narrative, and The Other is you. THE END......
Intended to be a philosophical narrative detailing the tragic relationship between the reader, the narrator, and the character and how they cannot coexist without hurting each other.

I am autistic and headphones that are actively noise canceling are long overdue.
But I'm really sensitive to pressure on my head. It gives me headaches, migraines and leaves the feeling of "pressure indents" on my head that I can't shake off for hours. To make it clearer: If I lay on the bare wooden or stone floor even for 10 seconds I will get this indent feeling for hours, which might turn a headache depending on how much else is bothering me that day and killing my energy battery of how much I can take.
Clamp force must be low. Super cushiony or some sleep headphones made for long wear?
Please just don't recommend any of the ones that go inside the ear, cos this is an even more extra mega sensitive area to me. It will NOT work for me for my use case.
Extra points if it has this street safe function I heard about, where you dampen the screechiness that hoards of people create, but can be still aware of your traffic surrounding.
Maybe one's without headband ? Just came to mind. Maybe someone has experience with that and similar sensitivities.
I would love to find headphones I can wear for long periods.
Edit:I don't care about sound quality much. I can not discern it like you audiophiles. Everything sounds fine to me. Even the tiniest sounding phone music people complain about I'm fine with. And anyway I think I will get super audio quality with the amount of comfort I require for headphones.
I also don't care about the looks or prestige of it. And if it's wireless or with wire.
Im Germany based so it should be available here, in person or via shipping.
You can recommend from any price point. Of course I'd prefer to spend less, but at this point after Sennheiser and some other expensive brands didn't fit that I can't remember the name of, I think it's nit realistic to hope for cheap. I'll spend a couple hundreds and will work for many moths up to it if needed. I just want some more ease into my life.
PS Read on the forum rn that some people get nauseated and get headaches from active noise cancellation. That's not the case for me. I'm unbotheted by that. What bothers me is the headband sitting on my head for a prolonged time and never being cushiony or wide enough to not leave a pressure demarcation and the muffs being too tight on my ears like a stubborn pistachio.

If you read my previous posts, you probably know that I've been trying to do a playthrough that ended up becoming a project (well maybe that's a bit far but you get the idea lol.). After a while of trying to find the right mods and right way to do things I finally got it. Mostly because of you guys which I highly appreciate. So I wanted to share my character. His story, restrictions, and of course the mods.
Story: though he was born a nord, Randal was raised by bosmer who followed the green pact. He learned how to hunt and fight from a young age. He grew up with the green pact and ways of the bosmer. At a young age him and his adopted family learned of the uncle being a werewolf. The father tried to confront him but uncle chantir grew enraged. He grew tired of the family and their ways. He started destroying the house and grew violent. The kids (Randal included) tried to stop him but he knocked them back. That's when he transformed and tore their mother apart as a beast. He back handed Randal and sent him flying. When Randal woke up chantir was gone and his father and siblings were a little hurt, nothing fatal thankfully. Years have passed and someone with the ability to see into the future told Randal and his panther friend nargay of a destiny in skyrim. More was described to nargay as Randal must discover more on his own by heading to helgen. So with heartfelt farewells, Randals family and village wishes him a good journey in skyrim.
There's kind of 3 arcs I wanted to do and hopefully I'll remember to list the mods that aid these alongside them.
Arc 1, the main one, destiny: at first Randal would be afraid to go to helgen (starting the main questline). He fears it would be a destiny that keeps him away from valenwood for too long. (For visits to valenwood, I'm using elden root. Also it has the version of nargay I'm using as I heard the milandriel version has some issues.) He has a home away from home for if skyrim gets to be too much (milandriel as there doesn't seem to be much choices for bosmer style homes.) But it's not the same. He discovers early that he is called dragonborn (I used gray cowl of nocturnal, mostly because I wanted to revisit it and see if I can give it a more fair shot than I did last time. But honestly, if a quest mod doesn't require using plants and mentions you being dragonborn, you could probably use that instead.) After helgen and fighting his first dragon, he tries to understand what being dragonborn means. His biggest motivation for the main questline would probably be something along the lines of thinking of his family and home. (If you want, you can also include followers and say they were destined to fight alongside you. I'm of course using auri but also my man inigo.)
Arc 2, belonging: throughout most of the playthrough, Randal would wonder if he, as a nord, truly deserves his place in his family and home. They treat him as one of his own. But he wonders if he could ever truly consider himself a real part of the family and village. He may be treated by them like he's one of them. But he is not bosmer, even though he cares little for his race. At least not the hateful storm cloaks and their racist fanatics. (If you want to play the civil war questline, though I doubt he'd care much for the politics, he's more likely to side with imperials. But I'll try to remember to include quest choices later.)
Arc 3, fear and vengeance: Randal still fears his uncle. So hearing that he is in skyrim gave him quite a panic. But Randal knows if he doesn't fight chantir, he could provide further danger to his family and others. He can't take that chance. It has to end (for chantir, there's a little bonus boss in the mod bosmer armor pack, he's called the champion of the hunt. Just say he's you're evil uncle.) But he must be ready to take on him. (For giving an edge, I'm using the green pact armor set mod. It also has really good weapons. Be sure to search in the falkreath hold for ghost deer called spirits of yffre. The nature's incense items you get from them are used to get the stuff. Hopefully you'll also get yffres bones which are used to temper the items. Try to think of it as yffres test of worthiness. Speaking of yffre I'm also using wintersun ae edition and the bosmeri yffre patch for worship.)
Restrictions (oh boy): as a follower of the green pact and someone who is disgusted by the use of things like firewood. Randal refuses to touch anything made of wood (hunterborn and the auri mod are good for bone arrows. Using campfire to sleep outside of towns for refusal to sleep on wooden beds. Until you can find a way to get a non wooden bow though, you'll have to stick to melee. Unless you want to get the green pact set early on which should be fine.) Which also includes alchemy. Since Randal doesn't trust drinking potions he relies on his food and drink for health and stamina recovery (probably one of the most important mods for this playthrough for this reason is ineed. Be sure to use ineed continue and ineed extended. Turn on the cannibal option but also important is the restoration option. Don't worry though, if you harvest enough "meat" from your enemies you'll have more food than you know what to do with. So food as a substitute might not be as harsh as you think because of just how much you get. In fact, you should also go to hunterborn settings and choose scrawny meat and materials abundancy. Otherwise it gets too much. The combat mods I hope to list further down should help keep it from being trivial though.) Also since Randal is not the biggest fan of other nords, be sure not to use any bonuses given to nords. The frost resistance sadly can't be helped. But if you're using any racial overhauls that might provide some Nordic abilities, you can't use them.
Quest choices:
Daedric quests: as a worshipper of yffre. Randal is not likely to be so eager to aid the likes of molag bal, peyrite, or mehrunes degone, and especially not hircine after his traumatic experience. Which leads me to...
Companions: Randal can smell the werewolves on them. He does not want to join the companions. Not only because of his past but also because becoming a werewolf would violate the green pact (needed to do a bit of research to find that out. Figure I'd be honest, as embarrassing as it is. But if you want you can install the mod for joining the silver hand. I can't quite recall the name. If it's just join the silver hand or dawn of the silver hand I'm unsure. But I opted out of using it this time because I'm not yet sure if for me anyway, if Randal would choose to cure the companions or wipe them out.)
Dawnguard: seeing as to how becoming a vampire lord would probably violate the green pact as well and Randal would prefer to not go to coldharbour among other reasons, he is more likely to stay with the dawnguard. (If you don't want to use the auri mod, serana dialogue add on could be another option. She drinks her enemies sure. But you might still relate to that part of her and understand it more. I haven't used sda for this playthrough though so I'm not sure how well it'd work in this case.)
College of winterhold: Randal is not very skilled in magic. So although he'd likely enjoy learning and education, he'd probably just get the information on the elder scrolls and go. Hopefully the scrolls aren't actually made of paper, ew (if you do want to do the questline and have some magic though, make sure it is conjuration and illusion, no destruction or restoration and little alteration. Also for conjuration only use spells for summoning animals and other spells of that sort. The druid mod seems to work well for me so far though I didn't use the spells this playthrough. When you're done with the staff of magnus, store it somewhere immediately or give it to a follower if you wish. But don't keep it on you. Right after you become arch mage pray to yffre for forgiveness for using such a thing.)
Thieves guild: yes but only if you have the mod no to nocturnal or a mod where you don't have to swear yourself to her. If you have the mod, go for it. (Though not required, I recommend thieves night on the town so you don't spend an eternity doing the different jobs to become guild master. Just thought I'd save you the trouble.)
Also be sure to use true hunter so there isn't a wild animal to fight every 5 steps. For extra adventure I used caves of morrowind and train fight. I also have it beats for her. The quest mods I mentioned aren't a requirement. Just something to think about adding for more content for the playthrough. But true hunter is a must. If you use alternate start live another life, I recommend using the attacked and left for dead start. Especially if you have inigo installed. For animations I'm using gdbs impossible animations jh. But now for the meat and anything but potatoes...
Combat: trust me, it's necessary, otherwise without these mods gameplay is trivial, even when relying only on food to heal. Thanks again to those who helped me with these recommendations. So here it goes...
Skyrim revamped loot and encounter
Skyrim revamped loot and encounter summermyst patch (I currently have Summermyst plus)
Fatality
Fatality damage plugin
Fatality mage movement
Know your enemy aio
Know your enemy aio Fatality patch
Skyrim revamped complete enemy overhaul
Skyrim revamped rebalanced and releveled
Lawless lite
Randal prefers to use a bow but also dual wields daggers or short blades. He's not a fan of clunky and slow. So he'll also use light armor and avoid two handed. He can Smith well enough but he's no master. Enchanting I'll leave up to you. Obviously more points go to health and stamina than magicka.
There we have it I think. Anything I might have missed? Anything that can be improved? I look forward to reading what you have to say!

WPA – A Completely Average Roadtrip
Disclaimer: Not canon, and I don’t use patreon so please don’t spoil me. Also, any opinion held by a character is that of the characters and not my own. Enjoy.
Town of Ljosalfington, local time 14:00, week 7
Emma Booker
“Again Illunor, I warned you before that this is a utility vehicle, not a party rated smart-limo. I am already compromising more than I should by allowing you to use the sample cooler as a minifridge, one which I can’t even use!” I said as I loaded the materials I had just purchased into the back of the high-G All terrain fusion-ethanol-electric hybrid 24th-century legacy pickup truck that I had printed out earlier this week, carefully avoiding the heavy ordinance hard point.
“That is hardly an excuse for that abysmally cramped leg space barely fit for cattle, never mind the bare minimum for standard decorum suitable for nobility. If this is what a car is like, then I don’t see why you care for your technology,” complained Illunor, who was sitting around idly with a malformed garish bowl of icecream that he had stashed away from lunch.
“If it bothers you so much, perhaps you could help next time with your ‘bigger-on-the-inside’ magic,” I retorted as I slid the last core sample into the back before covering it up with a tarp and strapping it down.
I had originally planned to visit Ljosalfington by myself to acquire much needed exo-materials to test various mana manipulator configurations as I worked to develop my first wand as not all of the materials I needed were procurable locally from Elaseer. I eventually yielded, much to my regret, to allowing Illunor to come with me as he insisted on wanting to deliver a letter personally in town after Thacea had pointed out the wisdom of not travelling alone.
We continued our back and forth for a bit yet as I finished securing my payload a voice called out to me from the direction of the town.
“Excuse me a moment, I couldn’t help but notice but are you from the academy?”
I turned to see an elf dressed in a plain brown buttoned up tunic matched by a slightly shabby pair of trousers with what appeared to be a lute upon his back and a plain and unenchanted longsword on his belt gesturing at our robes. Mine especially were new and unusual, tailored by the academy to go over my armour and allow access to the anchor points and allow me to exit my armour with minimal hassle. Illunor scoffed at what was evidently a commoner’s arrogance at approaching nobility and turned his head away in disgust. I glanced at Illunor and shook my head before turning to face the new man. I had time to spare, and any opportunity to engage in a hearts-and-minds dialogue with the locals outside the bounds of the managed environment of the academy was more than worth the time to chat. Especially as most of the other locals seemed to be content in ignoring me.
“Yes, we are currently studying at the Transgracian Academy. I am Cadet Emma Booker representing the United Nations of Earth and Luna from Earthream, and my aloof compatriot is Lord Illunor Rularia of the Vunerian courts. We were just about to head back but are in no rush. May I ask your name and what brings you by?” I asked with my hand outstretched in greeting.
“Ah yes, yes. My name is Edhel Redoehdelnif, a wandering bard by trade like my father and his father before him. My apologies, Cadet Emma Booker, I am unfamiliar with Earthrealm,” said Edhel as he grasped my hand with both of his and shook it tepidly yet vigorously. Or rather, tried to, as the motors on my suit resisted his efforts.
“News doesn’t seem to spread all that fast around here, so it makes sense you haven’t heard of us. We’re a new realm, and only just got here. Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Edhel Redoehdelnif,” I replied.
“Absolutely fascinating! And a knight no less, or perhaps a squire? I’m sure you have many stories to tell of Earthrealm. Say, by chance are you about to head back to the academy? I have business in Elaseer and the usual coach has been absent as of late so I would rather not go it alone,” said Edhel.
I was hesitant to bring a stranger back in the car with me, even if Illunor was present. However, the opportunity that meeting a bard presented was too good to pass up from an intel perspective and to win the favour of the populace at large.
“That is a great idea. I think I have room for one more…” I paused before gesturing towards Illunor, “provided everyone is ok with it that is.”
Illunor gave a huff and turned his head away in silence.
“Very well, I will allow this. But he will not be joining me in your sorry excuse for a coach,” said Illunor dismissively.
Illunor approached the backseat expectantly and the door opened for him automatically, allowing the dlc kobold to gracefully enter and lounge across the length of the seats, once again ignoring the seatbelts. I sighed as I made my way to the driver’s seat, and Edhel entered from the passenger side as he marveled at the automatic doors and the interior.
“What a strange carriage this is! Although I must say, shouldn’t you be retrieving your horses? I didn’t see any harnesses or sense any artifices,” inquired Edhel as he attempted to make himself comfortable on the car seat, lute in front of him.
“Oh no, this thing doesn’t need horses or magic,” I said with a chuckle as EVI started the car. The elf raised his eyebrows at the sudden hum of the engine and made an expression of alarm when the car started driving itself without my input. “See, purrs like a kitten.”
“Earthrealm must have some large kittens if they purr like that,” noted Edhel, “but you must be concealing the enchantments somewhere. Such a thing as this with such strange yet precise craftsmanship is only possible in the crownlands.”
“Nope, no magic,” I said cheerfully.
“Then how?” Asked Edhel.
“It’s rather simple really. Are you familiar with the workings of a mill?” I asked, deciding to keep things surface level and elementary to avoid provoking the IDOV threshold.
“Somewhat, though I confess to not being familiar with their workings. Are you suggesting this is akin to a mill?” Asked Edhel perplexed.
“It’s the same principal. A mill works by taking a source of rotation such as a waterwheel or windmill, transferring that rotation along a series of rotating shafts and interlocking gears, and finally putting that energy to work by rotating a millstone,” I began as the car pulled out onto the smooth cobbled road in the direction of Elaseer. A notification popped up in the corner of my vision indicating my recon drone swarm had shifted from a holding formation to a convoy screening formation, and while the roads were clear I kept the speed at 60km/h to account for my passenger’s apparent distaste for seatbelts.
“Rotation…” muttered Edhel. He turned to face one of the wheels and EVI pinged an alert for a probable match for a detection spell, “fascinating.”
“Edhel, what are you doing?” I asked.
“Oh, yes, perhaps I should have asked first. Yes, I can see how it all fits together. But the source of this rotation? I see no mighty river or great wind to power this, so where does it come from?” Asked Edhel, not really apologizing. Elven arrogance, it seemed, was not limited by class.
The act reminded me of Sorecar when he inspected my gun, but where the armourer had been respectful with it, Edhel was more flippant. I considered the possibility that he was a spy sent by one of her peers or the crownlands, though this did not mesh with the methods I had seen so far. Edhel may have been just overly enthusiastic. In either case, I quickly decided to only reveal the antique design for the ethanol engine, and not that of the batteries or the emergency coupler to my suit’s fusion reactor.
“Right, well please ask first next time. As to your question, I won’t bore you with the details, but the rotation is generated by creating a periodic sequence of explosions inside of a machine – a manaless artifice – called a combustion engine, said Emma.
“So that’s what that sound is…” pondered Edhel, “are these artifices typical in Earthream?”
“You are awfully inquisitive for a commoner,” noted Illunor as he inspected his nails for dirt, “and rather accepting of something which should be impossible.”
“I wouldn’t be much of a bard if I wasn’t, my lord,” said Edhel shifting uncomfortably in his seat, “perhaps some music might set the mood better?”
“That would be preferable, bard. I have heard enough of the Earthrealmer’s Road Trip Playlist and would like to listen to some music of real culture,” said Illunor.
The bard agreed and proceeded to awkwardly play a ballad about an adventurer who slew a hydra in some frozen wasteland. Partway through, I politely interrupted the Edhel to point out the seat controls much to his fascination and Illunor’s grumbling at their common nature, and after some adjustment the bard went on playing and I half-heartedly listened while I paid attention to the road and my drone feed.
Particularly after EVI detected something unusual and alerted me to its presence.
”Attention Caded Booker. There is a disabled vehicle blocking the primary route to destination. Heat signatures in the woods are consistent with that of an ambush.”
“Damn it,” I muttered.
I glanced at the drone feed to see a broken cart strewn horizontally across a wooden bridge over a brook. On the surface it looked like a pair of civilians who required aid and assistance, but off in the woods were several heat signatures, several of which held weapons of varying levels of enchantments. Occasionally one of the pair on the bridge would talk with them, suggesting they were in cahoots rather than hostages. I recalled crossing that very bridge not a few hours earlier, so the blockade was very recent.
“EVI, did we pass that cart on the way here?” I asked.
”Negative,” replied EVI.
I grimaced. I had been trained to handle road-side ambushes, but it was only something that was a theoretical possibility. Something that should only occur in a warzone or a corrupt and unstable polity. I knew I had the capacity to handle such an encounter, even non-lethally, but that didn’t change the fact that these were civilians and as such were the responsibility of local law enforcement. Combined with the fact that I had passengers I was responsible for and engaging the ambush was a risky option.
“EVI, give me a list of alternative routes,” I commanded.
”Affirmative. Here is a list of routes in order of recommendation,” replied EVI.
I looked over the routes superimposed on a map of the region and quickly dismissed taking a shortcut through the forest and cutting through farmland. A detour caught my eye that extended the journey by roughly ten kilometers and I immediately sent a pair of drones to scout it out before committing to the detour.
“Are you alright, Cadet Emma Booker? You seem distracted,” asked Edhel, snapping me back to reality.
“Yeah, I’m fine. I’m just focused on driving,” replied Emma.
“I suppose it must be quite taxing to command an artificed carriage of this complexity. Perhaps it might ease your mind if you were to regale me a tale of a hero of your realm?” Said Edhel, strumming a complex tune from his lute as he spoke as each and every pluck triggered a low-level spell.
“Well, that may be a problem. We don’t have any monsters to fight, and wars are a thing of the past,” I said while desperately tip-toeing the subject of aunt Ran, the subject of war, and our voyages through the cosmos, “though we are not without the adventurous spirit. We certainly have many stories of grand voyages. Some mythical and fictional such as The Odyssey as told by the Greek poet Homer and some historical such as the race to the south pole.”
“The south pole,” muttered the bard, “so you have explored all of Earthrealm then? I suppose that makes some sense, if you have artifices such as this then traversal of a globe would be quite manageable.”
“You are quite perceptive,” I said, not wishing to elaborate.
“A great performer knows his audience,” said Edhel with a charming, honest, almost human smile.
I felt a pang of homesickness as an intrusive thought reminded me that I could have gone to a real college surrounded by friendly faces my age, engaging in nightly holostreams and dreaming of adventures in the stars from the safety of a college dorm room. The sight of Illunor in the rear camera was the only thing that kept me grounded, as I almost felt like I was back at home on a road trip rather than returning to a fantasy feudal court, constantly evading death at every turn with the fate of humanity on the line. As such, and prompted by EVI, I barely had the wherewithal to take the planned detour.
A fact which did not pass by Edhel.
“I believe you may have taken a wrong turn, Emma,” he commented.
“Nah, I’m just taking the scenic route. I came from that direction on the way here, and you have inspired me to see the other road and I figure it should only add a few extra minutes to our travel time,” I said, gesturing at a paper map which I had referenced exactly once, “though on that subject, you seem to know these lands quite well. Do you have any recommendations on places to visit in the Nexus to scratch that itch?”
Illunor raised his eyebrow at the detour excuse, knowing full well this was not part of the plan. I worried that he might complain about the issue and but thankfully remained silent as he snacked on the contents of the misused sample storage unit. Edhel himself took on a more pensive posture.
“I’m happy to have been such an inspiration, Emma, though I am sure an explorer such as yourself has little need of such. I would normally suggest the skyward fountains of Verdellan or the cloud tides of Asturia, but that may be too casual for someone of your calibre. Perhaps the severed chasm or the fire marsh of Bhandahova may be more to your liking. Or perhaps…” Edhel leaned in, “I have heard rumours of a dragon in the glassy obsidian wastes of Vurcanar.”
I chuckled at that, knowing how I was fortunate enough to fish a dragon scale out of the nearby lake for the ECS. “The thought of going dragon hunting had certainly crossed my mind…” I mused aloud.
“Yet you sound hesitant. Perhaps it is too much for a newrealmer. Perhaps a slime or a dire rat might be more appropriate,” he said with a tease.
“No, it’s not like that! It’s” I stammered, before attempting to change course after realizing I had been goaded, “what I mean is, I was under the impression that dragons were an endangered species. Where I come from, hunting endangered animals is usually illegal, and big game hunting in general is frowned upon. We do make exceptions in the case of problem animals such as if a large predator starts hunting humans, but as a rule we prefer conservation and try to find ways of coexisting with wildlife such as the use of barrier fences and scaring away dangerous animals rather than being forced to cull their numbers. Having a species go extinct would prevent future generations from appreciating them and risks destabilizing the ecosystem they are a part of. Now if this dragon was actively razing villages and eating civilians and livestock, that would be one thing, but this does not look to be the case. I don’t imagine the Nexus has any settlements in this wasteland, and the dragon clearly wants to be left alone. Killing an innocent dragon would be murder.”
I grinned to myself after delivering a diatribe that would have made my tenth grade social and environmental studies teacher beam with pride, though by the expressions of my passengers my view did not appear to be shared. Edhel’s mouth was agape in shock and fascination, while the Venurian in the back seat merely huffed in disapproval.
“I assure you Newrealmer, there are no innocent dragons,” stated Illunor with a hint of terseness breaking through his otherwise regal demeanor.
“Illunor, I understand that Venurians have personal reasons for not liking dragons, but you can’t just extend that disdain to their descendants or those uninvolved just because they are the same species,” I said.
“If I may interject on your behalf, my lord, I believe I can address Cadet Emma Booker’s concerns,” said Edhel with a bow. Illunor nodded in approval.
“Very well, you may proceed,” he said.
“Thank you, my lord. My dear Emma, you must understand that dragons are not simple animals driven entirely off of instinct as it appears to be the case in Earthrealm. They are monsters. Intelligent, long-lived, violent, greedy, cruel, territorial, selfish flesh-eating monsters. They are evil by the very nature of their being, unable to change by their own accord, and unwilling to change when His Eternal Majesty offered them freedom from their nature. It isn’t that they want to be evil. As intelligent animals – intelligent monsters – dragons are capable of understanding morality, and many have tried to overcome their evil nature at great expense to themselves. A well intended and noble sentiment, yet a doomed one as like all animals, they all succumb to their nature in the end. Overcoming one’s nature is impossible,” said Edhel. His eyes took on a stoic, almost remorseful gaze as he spoke, and Illunor nodded with approval.
I was appalled by this claim, not by the contents so much as how blatantly false it was. As a representative of the human race, I was a living counterexample to his whole argument. We had remained physiologically unchanged as a species since the last Ice Age, and yet in spite of that, in spite of our many flaws, we had found peace and balance. If we could do it, anyone could do it.
“Will all due respect Edhel, that is nonsense. Monsters aren’t born, they are made. It is the mark of any intelligent species can adapt their behaviour to their environment for better or worse, and under the right care any so-called monster can grow to be a force for good,” I began, but while I searched for the right words Edhel shook his head.
“I appreciate your race is an empathetic one, Emma, your idealism is unfounded. As flesh eaters, a dragon must take the life of another animal or person to survive, or they will perish. As such, every dragon has taken a life. As long-lived creatures, they will have amassed a significant number of kills. As the land can only support so much animals, a dragon must be fiercely territorial and aggressive to remove competition, lest they starve. As such, even the most kind-hearted dragon alive must be violent and greedy, and their intelligence fuels this even more so if they know a bountiful land of morsels exists just outside their range.
Now perhaps a multitude of dragons may find a way to co-exist together in some settlement, but to support such a venture would require a large territory of prey, or a livestock animal. Perhaps they could support a large colony by farming grain for their livestock, but that would require effort on their behalf. As large animals, such efforts require a great deal of energy. Yet that size makes it easy for them to intimidate smaller races to do their labour for them, and to keep their client race in line dragons must be cruel. And even so, as their numbers grow so do their needs. As such, they must expand into the lands of their neighbours to survive until there is nothing left to devour, at which point they must turn against their own lest they starve. As such, it is the nature of dragons to conquer and devour. That is why there is no such thing as an innocent dragon,” finished Edhel.
I was speechless, not because I believed Edhel had a point, but because I was horrified at how easy he found it to rationalize the extermination of an entire sapient species. If this was how the elves thought, then it wasn’t the dragons who were the monsters. I suppressed that dark thought. Edhel’s thought process was a product of his culture, not a feature of his elven heritage. If there was any hope of peace between our people, I needed to show him there was another way of being. I needed to prove that co-existence was possible, no matter one’s nature.
I took a deep breath to steady myself before replying.
“That- that is a callous way of seeing things,” I began, though the shock was still there in my voice, “you speak as though there is no natural equilibrium with a dragon, that their only state of being must be to be cruel, to devour, to conquer. But I see things differently. In fact, I might wonder if a fledgling civilization might see the presence of a dragon as a boon rather than a curse. Being intelligent, the locals may be able to come to some agreement with the dragon. Perhaps they might leave some land as a hunting ground or offer up a share of their cattle or guard the dragon as it sleeps. In exchange, the dragon might allow them to build a town outside its mountain and protect them in times of danger. An equitable exchange. A civilization might even create artificial lairs to attract dragons for this very reason. True, some dragons may behave tyrannical towards their town, but a well armed populace of a large city would be more than capable of fighting such a threat, and a rational dragon might reason that threatening their own populace would put their reliable source of food and shelter at risk. You see, it’s all a matter of perspective.”
“You certainly are an imaginative one, Emma, to wonder up a quixotic world where the hare and the fox live together in harmony as equals. Even so, you seem to have ignored one key detail to such a society. What would happen should the dragon not be fed for months on end?” Asked Edhel with his eyebrow raised.
“The same thing as stranded a dozen starving, stranded Elves!” I spat back.
[Alert: Vehicle speed above recommended limit for conditions. Recommendation: slow down. ]
“I am driving slow!” I seethed, not realizing I had sped up with manual control enabled.
“I grow tired of this common prattle,” interjected Illunor just in time to prevent an awkward silence, “bard, play us another song.” “As my lord wishes,” said Edhel with a bow before turning to me with another smile, “perhaps a more soothing melody would be in order? A love song perhaps, to honour Cadet Booker’s compassionate nature?”
I said nothing as Edhel began to strum his lute again to the tune of a love story of a pair of doomed lovers named Ramian and Junette, hating his cheeky knowing grin that only served to get under my skin further as I focused on calming down and slowing the car back to a more reasonable pace before investigating a priority alert which I had been blinded to moments prior.
[Alert: hostile roadblock is absent, location unknown.]
Shit.
“Illunor, we may have a problem,” I said.
“Shush, Newrealmer, have you no class? We are almost at the best part! I’m sure it can wait,” replied the contextually clueless lizard.
I had never wanted to throttle Illunor as much as I did now.
“Illunor, shield, now,” I said with a raised voice.
“I don’t see-“ he started, pausing mid-sentence as his ears perked up.
[Alert: Multiple manafield and spell signatures detected!]
I took evasive maneuvers as Illunor tried to piece together a shield spell, fumbling it twice as panic appeared to set in and providing me with a reminder that Illunor was a civilian, not a soldier. A hail of arrows pelted the exterior of the truck, piercing but not penetrating the composite armour. I was tempted to do nothing but just drive away from the arrow fire, but a foreboding premonition of danger filled me as I recalled Sorecar’s hunter-seeker arrows.
Seeking to avoid that fate, I triggered the active defenses.
The smoke screens deployed around the vehicle, obscuring the sight of any who depended on visible light to see me. A barrage of decoy flares equipped with wooden cores shot upward at angles and diffusing to the side like a pair of giant wings which when combined with the MFD, short for mana-field dampener, inside the vehicle meant that the pelting hail of arrowfire softened to a whirr as the arrows whiffed over the top of the truck, retargeted away from the soft flesh of my passengers and even invoking friendly fire amongst the ambushers.
In the chaos, EVI and my drone swarm fed me complete tactical information on the ambush. Of the 26 individuals at the first blockade, 20 were accounted for, and 3 had died from friendly fire. Ahead at the bridge, 5 more of them were at the bridge where a barrier had been hastily erected to cage me in as the river valley was too deep to cross.
“Illunor, we need a bridge,” I said, taking stock of the wellbeing of my passengers.
The bard was huddled down low and suppressing his manafield, but otherwise rather composed. Illunor, on the other hand, was cowering in the gap between the seats with his hands covering his eyes and his tail tucked in.
“A bridge is no small request, Ne- Cadet Emma Booker,” replied Illunor, “and your ‘Emeffdee’ has blinded me to the outside of this moving death trap.”
“If I drop it, can you at least make a ramp?” I asked as I circled the battlefield. Or tried to, at least, as earthen ramparts emerged from the ground from a yet unseen source to cut off other avenues of escape.
“A ramp? Surely you don’t mean-“ he stammered.
“Yes or no,” I said.
Illunor paused, before taking an unsteady breath.
“Yes. But not with that Emeffdee,” he replied.
“Good. Steady your nerves and prepare to make a ramp ahead of us on my signal,” I said, “in the meantime, get your seatbelt on. This is going to be hairy.”
As I circled around to make my approach on the bridge, the final combatant made his appearance on a nearby tree, revealing himself as an elven mage. An alert focused on the air around him indicating he was preparing an unknown high-tier spell, and I locked the predator drone on him indicating the elf as a high-priority target if our escape plan failed, and I was forced to use lethal force.
If I was forced to kill.
It was one thing to know you may have to kill in the line of duty, but it was much harder to reconcile that with reality. No number of simulations could match the real thing, and a part of me wanted to simply offload the responsibility to EVI to keep my hands clean, but to do that would be betraying my duty as a human being. I breathed in deep and tried not to think about it, instead hoping to rely on the ace I held in my sleeve instead.
“EVI, ready the spell jammer,” I said unevenly.
“Acknowledged, the prototype Exo-Radiation Wave-Field Distruptor is primed. High risk target identified and locked, permission to engage?” EVI asked, forcing me to address the dreaded question.
“Negative,” I replied, “hold your fire. If the ramp fails, then you have permission to engage,” I said.
“Affirmative, on your mark,” replied EVI.
I lined up the truck with the bridge and bolted through the smoke, keeping a careful eye on the mage as I went. His spellform took on a more concerning shape as I accelerated, and I realized I could not afford to let him finish his spell. I triggered the spelljammer.
A terrible roar erupted from an array of speakers printed from mana-resistant materials that would have made Godzilla herself beam with pride. The sound was decidedly unnatural, gnarly, dubstep drop composed of an electric eel, a whale, a mountain lion, and a tyrannosaurus rex all being simultaneously assaulted by a swarm of angry cybernetic murder hornets as an equally chaotic wave of mana blasted outwards from the exterior of the truck, with the interior thankfully sheltered by audio and mana dampening.
The ambushing assailants cowered and panicked, and it was enough to cause the Elven mage’s spell to backfire in his face as his form exploded into ashes, meeting a horrific fate which I had tried so desperately to help him avoid. With all the combatants momentarily incapacitated or dead, I lowered the dampener and turned off the smoke.
“Ramp!” I shouted, snapping the lizard back to reality.
The Venerian nodded and hastily formed an earthwork ahead of us right before the blockade, and the truck leapt off the ramp with a not insignificant amount of air beneath our wheels. I braced for impact, regretting skimping on the shocks in the name of preserving materials, but the impact never came.
[Alert: Friendly spell designated ‘Feather Fall’]
Illunor thankfully had enough wherewithal to gently land the steel brick, and I sped off into the distance away from the trap that had unfolded behind us, leaving the interior of the truck in an awkward silence as we each processed our brush with death in our own way. “How many are dead?” I asked EVI.
“6 hostiles confirmed dead,” replied EVI.
I drove on in silence. Those were six deaths I had tried to avoid, and I became lost in thought as I wondered what I should have done differently to avoid the confrontation entirely.
Edhel broke the silence with a bout of laughter.
“Terrific! Absolutely terrific! Why, I can conjure up many a tale from this encounter alone! I live for this kind of inspiration!” Exclaimed Edhel a little too chipperly considering the circumstance.
“I would rather not hear stories about how I bravely ran away,” I moaned in deadpan sarcasm.
“You think too little of yourself, Cadet Emma Booker. It is plain to me that you are no ordinary rabbit. Make no mistake, I see it as a privilege to bear witness to the roar of a vorpal hare!” Said Edhel as he supressed his laughter, “though I am afraid with all the excitement that I must finish my song some other time.”
“How about I play some of our music?” I offered after the elf revealed his thrill-seeking side.
“Splendid, I would like that. Perhaps something of your ‘Roadtrip playlist’ you speak of? It sounds like a collection of your voyages,” said Edhel.
“That would be an improvement on the truth,” said Illunor dismissively as he eased from his state of shock, “it is little more than noise under the pretense of music.”
“Illunor…” I muttered to myself before turning the mic on, “no, no it’s not like that. I have terabytes of pre-recorded songs from various artists back home which can be played by… an artifice called a speaker. A playlist is a set of songs which are grouped together, usually to listen to in specific situations such as studying, partying, or travelling. The latter collection is what Illunor is referring to.”
I very deliberately chose not to reveal my ‘Unfortunate Daughters’ playlist.
“An artifice which plays music, and a magicless one at that. I must say, Emma, I fear for the bards in your realm,” said Edhel with a laugh.
“Your fear is misplaced, Edhel. Entertainers live like kings where I come from,” I retorted with a smirk of my own, “well, the ones with talent at least.”
“Well, well, I suppose I have to hear my competition!” Said Edhel with a laugh.
“Do as you must, though let it be known that I warned you,” said Illunor as he watched a play on his sightseer.
I had EVI compile a list of songs that left out content offensive to Nexian sensibilities or violating OpSec and as it compiled I mused over what type of sample spread I wanted to show off. Then it struck me. What better way to show off our culture than with some good old blue jumpers and nova rock! Sadly, jumpers were unavailable to show but I still had a whole list of modern artists to choose from.
Moments later, the car speakers sprung to life to the tune of ‘Innocent Youth of Mine. Edhel’s eyes lit up like a child visiting a zero-g gravity park for the first time, seemingly star-struck by the antique electric guitar and the synthesizer-drums in particular.
“What… what is this? I have never heard anything like this!” Proclaimed Edhel.
“Dreadful, isn’t it?” said Illunor, doing what he did best and pretending to hate it.
“Oh there is a lot more where that came from,” I said with a cheeky grin of my own, “this one is called ‘Innocent Youth of Mine’ by ‘Cannons and Poppies’. It’s part of the Nova Rock genre.
“And those strange instruments?” Asked Edhel.
“Oh, you mean the electric guitar and the synthesizer. They are electronic instruments, taking advantage of channeled and modulated electricity to create near any sound we can imagine,” I replied.
“Channeled electricity… are you suggesting these sounds were made by some form of lightning?” Asked Edhel.
[Suggestion: Avoid topic of electricity due to OpSec risk]
I nodded at EVI’s warning, thankful that it caught me before I discussed the very thing that all of my equipment ran on.
“It’s not exactly lightning, but close enough,” I said.
“If I had not witnessed to your display of power earlier, I might have perhaps been more skeptical of such a claim, but I suppose a lady must keep her secrets.” said Edhel with a raised eyebrow and chuckle, “but I digress, this music is most interesting.”
“There is a lot more where that came from,” I said with a cheeky grin of my own.
“If I ever have a prisoner in need of torture, I will turn to you first,” replied Illunor, “if you are willing to subject your peers to this madness then I cannot imagine what you would force upon your enemies before dunking them in ice.”
“In your dreams,” I retorted.
I played a few other songs including Astrodesee’s ‘Meteor Struck’, the Martian classic ‘Hotel Cydonia’ and even ‘Switching to Warp’ before Elaseer emerged from the distance, and I pulled up outside the gate to drop Edhel off.
“Here already?” Asked Edhel.
“Well, yeah. I was just running a quick errand, I didn’t want to go too far,” I replied casually.
“That was a distance worth at least five days of walking by foot, and you call that a ‘quick errand’?” Asked Edhel. I shrugged, and he laughed.
“Well in any case, thank you for allowing me passage in your car. I must apologize for my lack of gift or payment…” said Edhel. “Don’t worry about it, it was on the way,” I replied.
“I see, how generous. Perhaps we might one day meet again?” Asked Edhel.
“Maybe, but I’m not sure how likely that is. The academy takes up most of my time,” I replied, “though you never know. I still have a lot of quest hours to complete.”
“Is that so? In that case, I hope we meet again! Goodbye Cadet Emma Booker and farewell Lord Illunor Rularia,” he said. “And good travels to you, bard,” said Illunor.
I waved off Edhel and drove back to the academy, Illunor still sulking in the back seat.
“Perhaps next time, you should steer us away from danger?” Suggested Illunor.
“I tried, but we were tracked,” I replied.
I groaned inwardly at the additional work needed to fix the truck. EVI compiled a list of upgrades for future engagements, batting away my idea for a ‘turbo mode’ and a ‘jump boost’. Though at the end of the day, meeting the bard wasn’t a complete loss. It felt good to talk to someone almost normal for once, and I hoped I met him again.
Edhel Redoehdelnif
I watched as Cadet Emma Booker’s vehicle went off into the distance, getting one last look at the Earthrealmer’s strange artifice before turning towards the gate. The voyage was an exotic experience, not unlike that of a fever dream or a peak into a world completely alien to my own. Indeed, it was a struggle to contain my excitement and enthusiasm and process the experience rationally as I made my way through the southern gates of Elaseer and turned the corner of an alley before entering an impossible structure that did not exist.
“You are earlier than expected,” said the shadowy figure of my handler as I made my way to the meeting hall.
“The Earthrealmer’s means of transportation proved far more expedient than anticipated, my lord” I spoke as I knelt before him, “even with her unexpected departure from the anticipated road and the ambush we traveled for scantly more than an hour.”
“Yes, I will require a full report from you. Perhaps you can shed some light on the ‘smoke dragon’ my men claim intervened on the Earthrealmer’s behalf,” said my handler.
“Smoke Dragon, my lord?” I asked.
My handler responded by activating his sight-seer, revealing how the ambush had appeared from the outside. The Earthrealmer’s uncanny artifice traversed down the road, a pair of manafields displaying proudly from within until the archers began their assault. The artifice then transformed as smoke billowed out from its pores and wings sprung forth above until it was the form of a mighty wrym with a pair of glowing eyes springing forth from its ever extending head where it then gave forth a terrible unholy roar which sent waves of mana outward. The mage working to seal the area and trap their mark vapourized in an instant as his spell backfired. It was apparent to Edhel that his exceptional experience in the carriage was merely a muted rendition of the events unfolding around them.
It would seem the hare had the shadow of a dragon.
“I do have some insight, though I must confess the Earthrealmer did very little in the way of direct action. I suspect she has some unseen means of commanding and scrying through her artifices,” I said, “one which does not utilize magic as we know it.”
“Such a statement is heresy,” said my handler, “but such special circumstances are your reason for being. I will require you submit your memories for verification. What is your appraisal of the new realmer?”
“The girl is far more dangerous than a surface appraisal would suggest, though she prefers to conceal that power rather than utilize it out of a misplaced sense of compassion. Her people appear to have a boundless creative drive through which such artifices are birthed, though again it is misdirected towards more common applications. I believe that if properly tamed, this human animal may provide us with great works of art,” I said with a bow.
“I see. Does the girl know you work for us?” Asked my handler.
“She may harbour some suspicions, though did not voice them outright beyond concealing her knowledge,” I said, “though nothing significant. Provided our next meet is under believable circumstances such as a festival she should view me as cordial.”
“She has indeed proven clever,” conceded my handler, “very well, I will make arrangements for your paths to cross again. Perhaps I will arrange for her to be a contestant at the next inter-academy tournament. In the mean time, prepare your report and don’t wander far. This is a priority assignment.”
“As you wish, my lord,” I said with a bow and a smile.
Emma Booker had proved to be an interesting animal indeed, and I hoped our paths crossed again.

I have a nice set of DT770 pro's at home for use at my desk (2nd pair)
I could buy another pair and a receiver with mic, but would want to clip it to the headband, making the mic near useless for calls and buttons in an annoying place.
Budget - Reasonable. I'll pay for quality, but these are primarily to be headphones I wear while out and about until I come home to my nice headphones. Ideally I'd like to buy something for less than $100. Realistically I'm willing to spend up to $300 for lifetime headphones, but would rather spend as little as possible.
How the gear will be used - Commuting and at work (standing sales job) I don't much like ANC, but audio passthrough would be nice. Bonus if the headphones do not sound strange when ANC/passthrough mode is turned off. Many headphones I've used through the quality off a cliff once you turn off ANC or passthrough. Will be bluetooth paired to an android phone playing Youtube music or my personal library through Plexamp. I am clumsy. I have a few times dropped headphones onto the wooden floor. Wireless headphones should be built to handle an accidental drop, most are not. When skating or being active I throw in some samsung wireless buds.
Preferred tonal balance - I like bass a bit, but as long as the headphones aren't muddy or painful to listen to I do not care. f it bothers me to much I'll re install viper.
Past gear experience -
B&O Beoplay H9i: Nice set of headphones, loved the controls, headband plastic started splitting at the screws near the hinge on the left side, worsened until headphones would not sit/seal properly, then at all.
Drop Panda Thx: Solid metal hinges, with good dacs and drivers? Yeah, till the cheapest metal rod you've ever seen gives and your earcup is dangling. Then to top it off I got the issue where they refuse to power on or pair. These guys deserve a class action lawsuit for these headphones.
Anker soundcore space one My first bluetooth purchase after buying real wired headphones for home use. Good enough sound, decent enough app. Had the cracking issue near the left hinge and then it just blew.
What I want - The last bluetooth headphones I'll ever buy. I know the battery will eventually go, I will learn soldering before then. Short of that I want the most indestructible headphones one can buy at a reasonable price. I do not care about premium sound, just good enough sound. Calls should be ok for the person I call, stellar call quality is not super important. Touchpad controls would be nice, but not a dealbreaker.
Sorry for the novel, I am sick and tired of purchasing my 'last' pair of bluetooth headphones.

Transform Your Life in 6 Months: A Personal Journey to Success
Envision Your Future

1. Define Your Vision:

Visualize the life you want. What are your long-term dreams? How does success feel and look for you? This vision will be your guiding star.

1. Set Achievable Milestones:

Break your vision into concrete steps you can achieve over the next six months. These small wins will pave the way to your bigger goals.

1. Prioritize Your Goals: Focus on the goals that will have the greatest impact on your life. Channel your energy into these areas to see the most significant progress.

Take Control of Your Finances

1. Create a Budget:

Understand your financial situation by tracking your income, expenses, and savings. A clear budget will guide your financial decisions.

1. Save and Invest:

Start saving a portion of your income and invest wisely. Building a financial safety net provides peace of mind and sets a foundation for future security.

1. Eliminate Debt: Make it a priority to pay off debts. This will improve your financial freedom and credit score, opening up more opportunities for you.

Enhance Your Career

1. Skill Enhancement: Identify and learn new skills relevant to your career. Enroll in courses, attend workshops, or obtain certifications to boost your capabilities.
   
2. Networking:
   

Cultivate professional relationships. Networking can lead to new opportunities and collaborations, propelling your career forward.
Nurture Your Health and Wellness
9.Exercise Regularly:
Make exercise a daily habit. Physical fitness enhances both your physical and mental well-being.
8.Healthy Eating Habits:
Opt for a balanced diet rich in fruits, vegetables, lean proteins, and whole grains. A healthy diet fuels your body and mind.

1. Mental Health Practices:

Prioritize mental health through mindfulness, meditation, or other relaxation techniques. A healthy mind is key to overall happiness and success.
Cultivate Strong Relationships

1. Quality Time with Loved Ones:

Spend meaningful time with family and friends. Strong relationships enrich your life and provide essential support.

1. Effective Communication:

Improve your communication skills to better connect with others. Effective communication builds trust and understanding.

1. Resolve Conflicts:

Address conflicts or misunderstandings promptly and respectfully. Resolving issues strengthens your relationships.

1. Read Widely:

Develop a habit of reading books, articles, or listening to podcasts that broaden your knowledge and perspective.
Embark on this transformative journey with an open heart and a curious mind. Believe in yourself and the process, and watch as you turn your aspirations into achievements.

Had a leak in our bathtub drain. Bath is on 2nd floor. cut a hole for access from the next room and almost succeeded in removal. The drain and overflow is all brass, and I bought a replacement kit that appears to have all needed parts. I am stuck at the point in this photo. The exposed pipe end has what appears to be a short section of brass (could be copper) that is sleeved into a just larger section of copper, that is soldered? inside a heavy copper s-trap. The trap connects behind the stud on the left to that 3" drain line that crosses back under the tub to the main stack on the right. The pipe is 8 " inside the hole, and the hole is only about 8" wide. I can't go wider due to the stud on one side and a cast iron plumbing stack on the other
The kit i have includes a brass section that is exactly the same size as that broken off piece so it would slip into that short copper section if I could remove the old piece. I don't understand how it was put together, it seems like it would be a slip joint with a compression fitting, but there's no nut or ferrule. the corrosion makes it hard to see details of the joint. I hit it with some heat and did not see any solder and still couldn't move it, but you can see the water is right there, so that may have interfered.
I have been unable to remove it due to corrosion and limited access. I can only just get a wrench on it, or grab the protruding edge with some pliers, but movement is limited. Further access requires a demo of our bathroom (removal of the cast iron tub) or cutting through a lath and plaster ceiling in our foyer. That ceiling might also be plaster over metal lathe over plaster over wooden lathe. (that is how it is in the dining room). Bathroom demo woudl probably be a better option. What should I try next?
Continue to try to remove that corroded section? How? This exact issue already came up with the short section from the tub drain, it broke off in the vertical section from the overflow, which prevented replacing just that drain piece. I had to pull the whole kit out and that got me here with another broken off piece.
Desolder the short copper section from the copper trap? I think it's copper anyway, I really don't know. I worry if I remove another piece, the next one will be broken too... I know that's how it is sometimes, but damn...
Any other suggestions?

TLDR; I conducted a lot of tests based on community feedback after my first batch of test results (and recommendations) were perceived as controversial. I ran additional simulations and used chi square analysis to see if any equipment stood out.

• The polearm was observed to be the best except in very niche circumstances, where it still does well in general
• Assassin's Rags appears to be the best general armor in the game for melee
• Heavy Armor consistently loses to White Plate & Assassin's Rags
• In field battles you're probably better off not using ranged weapons at all
• For top tier characters KLR limbs remove the need to prioritize a shirt with high coverage; reducing damage to the chest & stomach may be more important even if limbs are less unprotected
• Crossbows don't appear to do very well in field battles

Introduction
Assertions about the best equipment in Kenshi are innumerable, but few of them are driven by data. A previous post based on repeated combat simulations and statistical analysis indicated that the Polearm outperformed other community favorites, sometimes by a remarkable margin.
Additionally, the recommendation to use crab armor was challenged and members pointed that other armor types not included in that round of tests would do better.
Other criticism of that group of tests included:

• The tests were only done with level 100 characters which doesn't reflect practical squad composition for normal players
• Very few enemies in Kenshi actually use heavy armor, let alone masterwork armor and it would make more sense to do weapon tests against more representative armor sets
• White Plate and Assassin's rags weren't considered and believed to outperform heavy armor
• The Shek were deemed the most effective race, but it wasn't clear if this was due to a bug in Forgotten Construction Construction set
• Sabres weren't considered at all, in particular for indoor combat
• Robotic limbs were not tested when determining the recommended equipment loadout or how that would affect how a character should be armored

These points were explored in additional testing. Also considered was how squads that were partially composed of crossbows and melee troops performed against pure melee squads.
Materials and Methods
The Forgotten Construction Set (FCS) is the defacto modding tool for Kenshi. Two squads were created and made to compete against each other many times to see if they differed in any significant way. Squads competed until all the members of one squad were knocked out, at which point the winner and loser were recorded. Fischer's Exact Test was then used to see if the results were significant.
Squads
Squads were composed entirely of Greenlander humans (except when explicitly testing other races). The rational for this was Greenlanders have no combat buffs or debuffs and that this would avoid potentially problematic discrepancies in stats that could be attributed to either a defect in FCS or stats so high that they would be utterly impractical to attain.
The stats of each member of the squad were identical in all simulations, with tests being done on squads all at either level 100 or level 50 depending on the test.
When robotic limbs were being considered all members had masterwork KLR arms and legs.
One squad was created as a starter squad which placed all members directly under the players control. The other squad was created in a modded town on the unamed island named "Chi Town", which was composed of a single building. In each new game, the squad in Chi Town would spawn in its building and begin patrolling the area.
Chi Town was set as a hostile faction to the player controlled squad. On a new game the player controlled squad would spawn in Chi Town adjacent to the hostile squad. Despite having hostile faction relations, Chi Town never initiated combat against the player controlled squad, allowing the player squad to have its members positioned in a variety of ways to ensure an even match up. Combat was then initiated by the player after setup.
Squad Size
To avoid a known problem with the AI in which knocked out members would revive mid combat and begin patrolling the town rather than continue fighting, the squad size was limited to 5 on each side for melee tests.
A squad size of 10 was used for each size when crossbows were being tested.
Initiating Combat
Squads were either loaded by a new game or quick load. After this members of the player controlled squad were positioned in such a way that when combat was initiated all opposing squad members would participate in combat at about the same time.
During combat soldiers were knocked unconscious, but frequently regained consciousness mid combat and rejoined the fight. Combat continued until all members of one squad were knocked unconscious.
When testing indoor combat the members of the opposing squad were spawned in a stationhouse. The player controlled squad then entered the building and initiated combat. If at any time battle caused a member to navigate outside the building the test was discarded and a new iteration conducted.
When testing combined arms a purely melee group was compared against a squad with both crossbows and melee members. The purely melee squad was positioned at maximum distance before initiating attack. This enabled the opposing crossbows to fire off multiple volleys in an attempt to give them maximum utility.
Each squad had 10 members. In the case of the combined arms group 5 had melee weapons and 5 had crossbows.
The crossbows used in the experiments were the Eagle's Cross and Junkbow. The rational for this is that the Eagle's Cross has a very high Damage Per Second when used by a level 100 user. However the humble Junkbow was also considered as some assert that it is superior, despite it's comparably weak damage.
When a player is hit by a crossbow bolt they stagger regardless of the amount of damage. Some postulate that the faster rate of fire with the Junkbow causes opponents to stagger enough that a comparatively smaller group of melee fighters can land more attacks. In other words the expectation is that the weak Junkbow would cause victory by stun-locking opponents.
Regular Soldier Testing
When testing combatants at level 50 mid level quality was used for weapons and armor (Catun No. 3). Additionally the armor set used was the standard kit used by Holy Nation Paladins.
It was speculated that more common, representative armor like this might yield different results for weapon testing. In particular, the abysmal performance of the falling sun in previous testing was attributed to it being used against very heavy armor which would prevent it from severing limbs.
Given that Kenshi's combat mechanics focus more on disabling an opponent, the ability to cause amputation may be more important than being able to do more damage. The Holy Nation kit was arbitrarily selected among the 3 major factions, but deemed suitable because the coverage of the Holy Chest plate is low enough to allow for testing amputation while still being high enough to represent what a player would likely encounter during a base raid.
Fischer's Exact Test
Chi-Squared analysis was done using an online calculator located here using a simple 2x2 contingency table. For all tests the default parameters of a two sided tail, 1:1 odds and a 95% confidence interval were used.
Version
Tests were performed on Kenshi 1.0.68

Animal Care Compliance

No bonedogs were harmed over the course of this research.

Data

Elite Soldier Tests
The following equipment was used in each test unless explicitly stated otherwise:

Factor Type	Factor Used
Helmet	Crab Helmet
Pants	Samurai Legplates
Shirt	Dark Leather Shirt
Footwear	Wooden Sandals
Robotic Limbs	Masterwork KLR arms & legs
Weapon	Polearm
Level	100
Race	Greenlander

Test	Group 1 Loadout	Group 2 Loadout	Group 1 Win:Loss Ratio
Crab Armor - Dark Leather shirt vs Chainmail	Dark Leather Shirt	Blackened Chainmail	24:6
Crab Armor vs Samurai Plate w/ Polearms	Crab	Samurai	9:21
Crab Armor vs Samurai Plate w/ Nodachi	Crab + Nodachi	Samurai + Nodachi	3:13
Crab vs White Plate Jacket	Crab	White Plate Jacket	0:30
Crab vs White Plate w/ Nodachi	Crab + Nodachi	White Plate + Nodachi	9:21
Crab vs Assassin's rags	Crab + Blackened Chainmail	Assassin's Rags + Dark Leather Shirt	3:27
White Plate Jacket vs Assassin's rags	White Plate	Assassin's Rags	7:23
White Plate Jacket vs Samurai	White Plate	Samurai	27:3
White Plate Jacket shirtless vs shirt	White Plate [no shirt]	White Plate [Dark Leather Shirt]	14:16
White Plate Armor, Skeleton vs Human	White Plate Skeleton	White Plate Human	25:5

Combined Arms Tests
The following equipment was used in each test unless explicitly stated otherwise:

Factor Type	Factor Used
Helmet	Crab Helmet
Pants	Samurai Legplates
Armor	Assassin's Rags
Shirt	Dark Leather Shirt
Footwear	Wooden Sandals
Robotic Limbs	Masterwork KLR arms & legs
Weapon	Polearm
Level	100
Race	Greenlander

Crossbows used a longsword as a sidearm in all cases.

Test	Group 1 Loadout	Group 2 Loadout	Group 1 Win:Loss Ratio
Polearms vs Polearms + Eagle's Cross	Polearms	Polearm + Eagle's Cross	17:3
Polearms vs Polearms + Junkbow	Polearms	Polearm + Junkbow	20:0

Regular Soldier (L50) Tests
The following equipment was used in each test unless explicitly stated otherwise:

Factor Type	Factor Used
Helmet	Bucket Zukin
Pants	Stout Hessian Uniform
Armor	Holy Chest Plate
Shirt	Cloth Shirt
Footwear	Plated Longboots
Robotic Limbs	None
Weapon	Polearm
Level	50
Race	Greenlander

Test	Group 1 Loadout	Group 2 Loadout	Group 1 Win:Loss Ratio
Polearm vs Falling Sun	Polearms	Falling Sun	26:4
Indoors 5v5- Polearm vs Desert Sabers	Polearms	Desert Sabers	13:17
Indoors 1v1- Polearm vs Desert Sabers	Polearm	Desert Saber	10:20

Results

All heavy armor tested lost substantially to both White Plate & Assassin's Rags. The polearm continued to outperform the falling sun. Desert Sabres either matched the Polearm in performance or outperformed it when micromanaging.
Additionally, the dark leather shirt outperformed blackened chainmail. This bolsters claims that when robotic limbs are used that limb coverage is less important than total damage reduced to the torso and stomach.
The Assassin's Rags were undefeated in any category. It seems that the stat malus of heavy armor is indeed quite significant and likely responsible for consistent losses. But even when put against medium White Plate armor which has very little stat malus the Assassin's Rags continue to dominate; this is likely due to the bonuses to dexterity, combat speed and melee attack that they provide.
When pitted against identically sized squads, combined arm crossbows squads were utterly defeated by monolithic squads armed with Polearms.
Level 100 Tests

Test	P-Value	Statistically Significant?	Better Equipment
Crab Armor - Dark Leather shirt vs Chainmail	0.0000114	Yes	Dark Leather Shirt

Level 50 Tests

Test	P-Value	Statistically Significant?	Better Equipment
Polearm vs Falling Sun	< 0.0001	Yes	Polearm
Indoors- 5v5 Polearm vs Desert Sabres	0.4389	No	Neither
Indoors- 1v1 Polearm vs Desert Sabres	0.0194	Yes	Desert Sabre

Combined Arms Tests

Test	P-Value	Statistically Significant?	Better Equipment
Polearms vs Polearms + Eagle's Cross	< 0.0001	Yes	Pure Polearm Squad
Polearms vs Polearms + Junkbow	N/A	Yes	Pure Polearm Squad

Discussion

Kenshi has a wide variety of equipment and a great deal of complex calculations behind it. Despite that, there exist god-tier equipment that appears to provide little choice or strategy for a player looking to outfit a squad to be competitive.
Using robotic limbs changed the ideal composition for armor. Previous testing with crab armor indicated that Blackened Chain Mail had an edge over the Leather Turtleneck. This was attributed to crab armor only providing 90% coverage which meant that stronger protection for the arms could change the tide of lengthy battles; A disabled arm was an extreme liability.
However the massive HP boost provided by KLR arms seems to be significant enough that additional coverage at the cost of dexterity penalties is a bigger hindrance than help. After HP becomes substantially greater than the heath of the stomach or torso it makes more sense to forgo that protection if it means you can hit faster.
Players are unlikely in the early game to outfit their squad with masterwork KLR arms. During this phase one could speculate over whether to use chainmail or a leather turtleneck over the dark leather shirt. Previous testing indicated that chainmail was better for crab armor users fighting other crab armor users with leather turtlenecks, but that experimentation never considered light or medium armor which was shown here to be more effective regardless.
This challenges the wisdom of using chain armor at all. The use of a shirt can be forgone entirely if the player chooses to use White Plate Jackets. This armor provides 100% coverage for the torso, stomach and arms making a shirt redundant. Given White Plate Jackets outperformed Crab and Samurai armor and is more accessible and affordable it is difficult to justify the decision to use heavy armor at all, let alone chainmail in combination with it. This refutes the conclusion to use Crab armor in previous testing.
Given the outsized impact Assassin's Rags had (presumably due to the status boons) it is probably inadvisable to use chainmail and its debuffs alongside it. The Assassin's Rags provide relatively poor coverage, so a shirt of some kind is likely useful. What the ideal shirt for an Assassin's Rags user without KLR arms would be is unanswered in this study.
The Assassin's Rags provided adequate protection when dealing with ranged opponents. One plausible weakness would be the scant protection they provide against harpoons, which was not tested. Even if they are unparalleled in melee further research should be done to see if a single shot from a harpoon could kill a character using them. If that turns out to be the case then White Plate Jackets would apparently be preferable to any heavy armor.
White Plate Jackets outperformed both Crab and Samurai armor when using Nodachis which deal purely cut damage and have a penalty against armor. This is perplexing because heavy armor appears to have been intended to be the best choice for mitigating cut damage, but the stat malus associated with it causes light armor to be a better choice (at least against the weapons tested in this study).
The Falling Sun continued to yield mediocre results compared to the Polearm. Oddly, the Falling Sun was noticed to cause amputation semi-regularly in the tests against Polearms. Despite this knocking out the Polearm user, the remaining Polearms managed to win most fights anyway and bandage their crippled comrade post victory. While limb loss after battle is fairly devastating, this has limited utility from the players perspective; there isn't a strong need to amputate an enemies limbs because it doesn't matter how you disable your opponent as long as they are disabled. It probably makes more sense to just use the Polearm because it wins way more often.
The Polearm appears unbeatable with very few exceptions. Previous testing indicated the only weapon observed to outperform the Polearm was the Paladin's Cross and that was contingent on using it against skeletons. This research indicates that the Desert Sabre can be more effective than the Polearm indoors, but only if the Sabre user is not subject to the Polearms area of effect damage; i.e., the Sabre has to fight the Polearm one on one which requires micromanagement.
A particular surprise was how the Polearm performed by level 50 users indoors against Desert Sabre users in squads. Here Polearms have a very strong malus and the Sabers have a strong boon. Despite this there wasn't a statistically significant difference between them.
The Polearm did lose against Sabres frequently when forced to fight one on one indoors. From the players perspective this means that defending indoors with Sabres is a viable strategy early to mid game, although attacking grouped NPC Sabres indoors with Polearms is also surprisingly viable.
Enemies that use polearms are typically the most high level squads in the game (e.g., the skeletal legion and southern hive). But these late game squads almost exclusively use polearms themselves. This means a player's late game Polearm squad would not have any disadvantage indoors as both squads would have the same penalty. Furthermore, by the time a player is encountering late game squads like this they've likely leveled up enough to avoid the need to micromanage regardless.
Whether such a niche use case justifies sinking experience into building up the Sabre skill when they could be leveling up the Polearm is a matter for players to decide. It's difficult to pronounce Sabre's categorically superior, particularly when they appear to break even with Polearms when forced to fight in groups indoors.
Crossbows/Polearm hybrid squads turned out to be unviable against pure Polearm squads. Every crossbow simulation ended with unfavorable results when the competing squad invested in a Polearm instead. Crossbows probably would perform better during sieges where they had a benefit of a wall, but a turret would likely be a better option at that point. The Junkbows ability to stunlock evenly sized forces was insufficient. This strategy is probably only viable when many weak characters are fighting a single strong character, assuming it works at all.
The lack of some rock-paper-scissors mechanics in Kenshi limits how the player can think strategically about squad composition. Modding could plausibly create more interesting, balanced relationships between equipment. For example, increasing the damage of weapons like Katanas while simultaneously increasing the penalty against heavy armor could make them a viable alternative to Polearms in many common situations.
The interplay of armor penetration and raw damage could create a better defined role for light, medium and heavy builds. Additionally, crossbows might be enhanced to have a viable role in the field as they do not appear to excel there or behind allied walls where they could use a turret instead.
Overall if a players goal is to outfit a squad for the highest combat potential, the data indicates the choice is mostly linear- outfit the entire squad the same way, preferring Assassin's Rags or White Plate Jackets along with a Polearm or Paladin's Cross (both weapons can be available via a backpack).
As far as choice of character goes, Skeletons were shown to significantly outperform humans despite having no head protection. No comparison was done between the Shek and Skeletons as it currently unsettled whether a Shek can actually achieve a strength of 120 in vanilla Kenshi or if that is a bug in FCS. Regardless, in Vanilla Kenshi it is impractical to obtain very many skeletons at all without modding. The higher health pool of the Shek would likely make them the most accessible, competitive recruits when trying to build a strong military squad. If creating a squad of 30 soldiers it would be unsurprising if the majority of them needed to be Shek.

What exactly are Dharāṇī?
Dharāṇī, also known as Parittas, are Buddhist chants, mnemonic codes, incantations, or recitations, usually the mantras consisting of Sanskrit or Pāli phrases. Believed to be protective and with powers to generate merit for the Buddhist devotee, they constitute a major part of historic Buddhist literature. Many of these chants are in Sanskrit and Pāli, written in scripts such as Siddhaṃ, as well as transliterated into Chinese, Korean, Japanese, Vietnamese, Sinhala, Thai and other regional scripts. Dharāṇī are found in the ancient texts of all major traditions of Buddhism. They are a major part of the Pāli canon preserved by the Theravāda tradition. Mahāyāna Sūtras such as the Lotus Sūtra and the Heart Sūtra include or conclude with Dharāṇī. Dharāṇī are a part of the regular ritual prayers as well as considered to be an amulet and charm in themselves, whose recitation believed to allay bad luck, diseases or other calamity. In some Buddhist regions, they served as texts upon which the Buddhist witness would swear to tell the truth. Dharāṇī recitation for the purposes of healing and protection is referred to as Paritta in some Buddhist regions, such as Laos, Thailand, Burma, Cambodia, and Sri Lanka. Paritta is generally translated as ‘Safeguard’ or ‘Protection’ in the Pāli language.
Historical Context:
The word Dharāṇī derives from a Sanskrit root √dhṛ meaning "to hold or maintain". Some Buddhist communities outside India sometimes refer to Dharāṇī with alternate terms such as "Mantra, Hṛdaya (Hridiya), Paritrana (Paritta), Raksha (Pali: Rakkha), Gutti, or Vidyā" though these terms also have other contextual meanings in Buddhism. The Buddhist Dharāṇī invocations are the earliest mass printed texts that have survived. The earliest extant example of printing on paper is a fragment of a Dhāraṇī miniature scroll in Sanskrit unearthed in a tomb in Xi'an, called the Great spell of unsullied pure light (Wúgòu jìng guāngdà tuóluóní jīng; 無垢淨光大陀羅尼經). It was printed using woodblock during the Tang dynasty, c. 650–670 AD. The Hyakumantō Darani found as charms in wooden pagodas of Japan were broadly accepted as having been printed between 764 and 770 CE. In 1966, similarly printed Dharāṇī were discovered in stone pagoda of Pulguksa temple in Gyeongju, Korea. These are dated to the first half of the 8th century.
How to start the practice:
As stated, Dharāṇī, are used as a sort of mnemonic code, specifically curated to help a practitioner remember the text in which the teaching and incantation comes from, such a practice is a good starting point in exploring the genre of Buddhist text that have the ability to generate positive karma, and dedication of merit to other sentient beings. Remembering and reciting a Dharāṇī is useful, and is a good recommendation for beginners, linked here is also a guide on how to pronounce Sanskrit if you happen to have some linguistic difficulties:
https://youtube.com/playlist?list=PLnFLN_eBOBMVEWX7pGJMGJNr_HK75VL_9&si=wSLN1Pz95q9bTcNA
Please note as some Dharāṇī/Paritta are esoteric and passed down by lineage of teacher to student, it is highly recommended for beginners to receive oral transmissions of such text. However, in this short list, all listed text are Sūtric and are free to recite without need of oral transmission.
Here is a good beginners list:
(Sanskrit works) Saddharma Puṇḍarīka Sūtraṁ (White Lotus Sūtra, used for praising the White Lotus Sūtra, and its benefits.)
Nīlakaṇṭha Dharāṇī (Blue-Necked One Dharāṇī, used for honoring, venerating, and requesting Avalokiteśvara protection, and clearance of obstacles.)
Śūraṅgama Mantraḥ/Sitātapatroṣṇīṣa Dhāraṇī* (Śūraṅgama Sūtra Mantraḥ, and the Dharāṇī associated in the Śūraṅgama Sūtra; White Parosal Dharāṇī of Sitātapatra Dharmapāla. Used for honoring, and venerating, the Śūraṅgama Sūtra, as well as requesting the help of Sitātapatra Dharmapāla to combat negative spiritual forces, magic, and beings.)
Bhaiṣajya-Guru-Vaiḍūrya-Prabhā-Rāja Dharāṇī (Used for honoring, and venerating, the Medicine Buddha Sūtra, as well as requesting his spiritual powers to heal and help sentient beings.)
Prajñāpāramitā-Hṛdaya (Sūtra) (Used for honoring, and venerating, the essence of Mahāyāna teachings on Śūnyatā, beneficial at warding off ill calamities, and dispelling negative forces.)
Munīndra-Hṛdaya-Mantraḥ (Shakyamuni Heart Mantraḥ, used for honoring, venerating, and establishing a connection to the Buddha Dharma.)
Śyāmatārā-Mantraḥ (Green Tārā Mantraḥ, used for requesting assistance from Green Tārā Bodhisattva.)
Amitāyus Dharāṇī (Amitāyus Buddha Dharāṇī used for honoring, venerating, and establishing a connection to the Amitabha Buddha Dharma, and for requesting longevity.)
Sarva-Tathāgatāyur-Vajra-Hṛdaya-Dharāṇī (All Thus Come One Life Diamond Heart Dharāṇī, used as an aspiration prayer towards Sukhāvatī, as well as praising, and venerating Amitābha Buddha.)
*Disclaimer, although this is an open mantraḥ, it is highly recommended to follow a teachers instructions on the usage of such a powerful mantraḥ. The Śuraṅgama Mantraḥ request the help of Vajrapaṇi Dharmapāla and is an extremely wrathful mantraḥ, often used at the most extreme of cases. Repeated usage is to advised by a qualified teacher.
For a more general overlook on Paritta works, which are often more peaceful in nature, and have a heavy emphasis on Mettā and merit dedication, here are a few open protective Parittas:
(Pāli linguistic works) Mettā Sutta/Karaṇīyamettā Sutta (The Discourse on Goodwill, used for spreading Mettā Pāramī to other sentient beings.)
Uddissanādhiṭṭhāna Gāthā (Verses for dedication of merit, used for dedicating merit to sentient beings, as well as multitudes of spiritual beings.)
Tiro-kuḍḍa-kaṇḍa-sutta Gāthā (Hungry Shades outside the walls verses, used for dedicating merit and food for ancestors and Pretā spiritual beings.)
Āmantana-Devatā Gāthā (Invitation to the Devās, used to invite the Buddhist and local deities protect those listening and preaching the Dhamma.)
Namakāra-siddhi Gāthā (Verses on success through homage, used as the beginning Paritta of ceremonies to venerate Buddhas and to bring success to rituals.)
Cha Ratana Paritta Gāthā (The Six Protective Verses from the Discourse on Treasures, derived from the larger Ratana Sutta, used for dispelling evil and negative forces, and proclaiming the truth [Saccakiriyā] of the triple gems.)
Khandha Paritta (The Group Protection, used for calming down and venerating the Nāga families, as well as dispelling harmful two footed, four footed, poisonous, and crawling creatures.)
Dhajagga Paritta (Top of the banner staff Protection, used for dispelling fear, and negative forces.)
Buddha-jaya-maṅgala Gāthā (The Verses of the Buddha’s Victory Blessings, used for proclaiming the eight auspicious victories of Shakyamuni Buddha in his life.)
It is recommended before the start of any Dharāṇī or Paritta chanting that one is to take refuge in the triple gems, and make aspiration prayers towards one’s goal, an example, as seen in the Theravāda Nikāya:
Namo tassa bhagavato arahato sammā-sambuddhassa. (Recite three times.)
Homage to the Blessed One, the Worthy One, the Rightly Self-awakened One.
Tisaraṇa (Triple Gem Refuge.)
Buddhaṁ saraṇaṁ gacchāmi. Dhammaṁ saraṇaṁ gacchāmi. Saṅghaṁ saraṇaṁ gacchāmi.
I go to the Buddha for refuge. I go to the Dhamma for refuge. I go to the Saṅgha for refuge.
Dutiyampi Buddhaṁ saraṇaṁ gacchāmi. Dutiyampi Dhammaṁ saraṇaṁ gacchāmi. Dutiyampi Saṅghaṁ saraṇaṁ gacchāmi.
Twice, I go to the Buddha for refuge. Twice, I go to the Dhamma for refuge. Twice, I go to the Saṅgha for refuge.
Tatiyampi Buddhaṁ saraṇaṁ gacchāmi. Tatiyampi Dhammaṁ saraṇaṁ gacchāmi. Tatiyampi Saṅghaṁ saraṇaṁ gacchāmi.
Thrice, I go to the Buddha for refuge. Thrice, I go to the Dhamma for refuge. Thrice, I go to the Saṅgha for refuge.
[Āmantana-Devatā Gāthā is said here.]
[Namakāra-siddhi Gāthā Paritta Chant, and so on…..]
Please feel free to ask questions, I don’t even know if you’re still reading, but…. Feel free to add suggestions too I guess. Have a nice day, and thank you for coming to my Ted-talk.

You guys know what an alpine coaster is? They are like a small roller coaster you find in the mountains. They are also called summer toboggans or mountain coasters and I think there’s some long German compound word they are called in parts of Europe. They are like a roller coaster, but with much smaller one or two person sleds you just sit on instead of multi-person cars you ride in, and instead of being built with like a scaffolding or a framework the tracks are just on the ground, using the elevation of the mountain. Basically it’s a coaster track on the side of a mountain where you ride a sled down.
They are pretty fun. Or at least I used to think so. They are more “personal” than roller coasters and although you get nowhere near the speed on them that you do on a good traditional roller coaster and they can’t do corkscrews or loops or anything like that the openness and simplicity of the ride gives an impression of a much greater speed. You’re just sitting there with nothing but a little plastic sled and the track between you and the ground as it goes zooming by. It’s like the difference between how fast a go-cart feels compared to how fast a sports car feels. You know the sports car goes faster but the open, simpleness of a go-cart feels a different kind of fast. There’s plenty of POV Youtube videos if you want to get the basic idea of what they are.
I used to love alpine coasters. Used to.
My family used to go to Gatlinburg and Pigeon Forge and up and down the Smokey Mountains for vacations when I was a kid and they are common in that area and I’d always rode them every chance I got.
But as with so many things after I grew up and went to college they just became part of my childhood that slipped away. They aren’t exactly common once you get away from the mountains.
Until one cool spring afternoon in 2004. I was in my final year at college and I was driving back to campus in Tennessee after a short visit to my folks in North Carolina. It was only like a 4 or 5 hour drive via the most efficient route and I had no need to be back at campus early so instead of taking the freeway all the way I got off and took part of my trip through the mountains. The scenery was nicer and I admit I liked pushing my Camaro just a little faster than I should through the twisty mountain roads.
Just after lunchtime happened upon one of those little by-the-highway tourist towns deep somewhere in the Smoky Mountains near the Carolina/Tennessee border. Nothing fancy, a gas station/truck stop, a diner, a couple of places selling tourist merch nestled deep in the mountains. I pulled into the gas station. My tank was getting low and I needed to stretch my legs, maybe grab something to eat. It was still early and I only had another couple of hours. I could kill an hour or so and still make it back to campus at a decent hour.
I pulled into the gas station and was filling my tank when I happened to glance across the road and… well I’ll be damned. There it was. “The Blue Ridge Alpine Coaster.” Nestled on the side of the mountain was a building, a mockup of a red barn, where a single railed track that led up into the mountains, where it soon got lost in the greenery. Wooden hand painted standees of cartoon character bears dressed in stereotypical “Hillbilly” getup stood around, some of them holding signs showing the ride hours and ticket costs and other info. I had to admit, as silly as it was, it made me smile.I finished pumping my gas and, well, nostalgia is a helluva thing. I decided then and there I could waste a little time riding an Alpine Coaster again after all these years before getting back on the road.
I parked my car in a corner of the truck stop's parking lot, put my phone in the center console, this being the days before smart phones when people didn’t keep their phones with them 24/7 and I didn’t want my old Nokia brick phone to fall out during the ride, locked my car and walked across the mountain highway to the Alpine Coaster building.
Getting closer, the place was less inviting. The half hearted attempt at a whimsical faux-Americana kitsch was far less effective when it brushed up against the actual decaying, run down wooden building. Hell calling it a building was generous. It was a wood frame holding up a long roof that covered the area where you got on the sleds. The wood boards creaked under my footsteps.
The only real enclosed structure was a shack that held, what I assumed, was a ticket booth. A door on the side had both a single occupancy bathroom with an out of order sign on it. An old Pepsi machine buzzed and glowed next to it.
Still the place looked alive. Ahead of me a bored looking attendant was helping a mother and her young son into one of the sleds while in a bored monotone repeating the safety brief. A few people were waiting in line at the ticket booth. Up in the mountains the playful shouts of people on the ride echoed down. Fond memories of my own childhood rides flooded my mind.10 minutes and 15 dollars later I was settling into the hard plastic seat of a bright red sled sat atop a simple aluminum rail.
I couldn’t help but grin as the sled slowly climbed the track up the mountains, making click-clack ratcheting sounds that hit my nostalgia centers hard. I felt good. The air was cool and crisp and smelled of pine.Higher and higher in the mountains we went. I don’t know if this is my mind trying to make sense of it after the fact but when I remember these moments, the last good moments, I sometimes think I remember a very slight, very subtle pit of fear in my stomach. I honestly don’t know if I felt it at the time or not or it’s just how my mind tries to make sense of it looking back at.
But either way mostly I was enjoying myself. I smiled. I was a kid again. I could hear riders in front of me let out that initial yell of terrified glee you get at the first drop of any good ride.
It peaked. I glanced around. I could see for miles, rolling hills and mountains. I the sled tipped over and zoomed down the mountain and I let out the same happy yell I heard from the other passengers.The ride zoomed down the mountain, catching speed. The mountain forest floor zoomed past, only a few feet under me. Trees zoomed past. I gave out a happy whoop as the ride banked hard around a curve and then looped back under itself.Another dip, another curve. I closed my eyes, enjoying the feel of the G-forces pulling me every which way.
There was no one exact single moment where things started to go “wrong.” The ride kept going. And going. At this point the first creeping thought entered my head.
The ride… was still going.
It just started to hit me… this ride was going on for a really long time. I had taken a dozen rides on various coasters of this type before that day and they topped out at about 5 minutes or so, and that was the long ones. Longer than a traditional roller coaster but not that long. This one had been going on for what felt like 10, maybe even 15 minutes.
I looked back over my shoulder and could only see trees, moving too fast to really get a bearing on where I was at in relation to anything.
I wasn't exactly really worried yet. Okay so I had found a particularly long alpine coaster. At the time I wasn’t 100% wasn't sure they didn’t exist or anything like that. I was a little… unnerved but nothing was happening that was impossible. Yet.
I was trying to talk myself back into just enjoying the ride and stop overthinking it, and halfway succeeded, when out of nowhere I suddenly banked hard, the track jutting out almost over a sheer cliffside. I gripped the sled more tightly as I was whipped around. The ride then dipped hard and picked up speed, barreling down the side of the mountain.
I was pushed back against the seat by the force of the drop. Jesus I didn’t remember them being this rough. I was feeling slightly nauseous. And where had this elevation drop come from I wondered? I was still in the foothills and I didn’t remember seeing anything but gentle rolling hills and light drops from looking at the ride’s route earlier. How the ride had managed such a long, steep drop in this area I didn’t know. . For the first time I hoped that the ride would be over soon. I had no idea then how much I would want that same hope to be true so much more as time went on.
With a whiplash motion I was whipped forward and then back as the ride leveled out on flat ground again, but by this point I was going fast, too fast. My neck hurt from the mild whiplash and I felt sour in my throat and for a moment the contents of my stomach threatened to come back up. For the first, but hardly the last time the ride felt unsafe. Alpine Coasters are tame affairs, much slower and gentler than full on roller coasters but this thing was throwing me around like no thrill ride I had ever been on.
I looked around. I mean I wasn’t that deep into the woods. I should have been able to see a glimpse of something; the highway, the gas station, the tourist shops, the Alpine Coaster office, something, anything. But nothing. Just trees.
I forced back some panic for the first time. I closed my eyes and counted to ten. The ride zoomed along. I counted to 60. I counted to 60 again. And again. Okay this was getting uncomfortably harder and harder to explain.
Suddenly I noticed that up ahead the track seemed to just end, for one brief, terrible moment I thought the track just ended but I was wrong. Almost without warning the track dipped in an almost vertical drop. I almost screamed as I plummeted for 20, maybe 30 seconds before flattening out again.
By this point the voice in my head that was telling me something was wrong was louder and I could no longer tell myself it was wrong. This ride could not have been this long. I tried to make sense of it, wondering if somehow I had gotten diverted onto some kind of maintenance track or, hell for one brief irrational moment even entertaining the idea that I had wound up on an actual train track somehow. But that was absurd. The rail below me was not a train track, it was still just the simple, aluminum rail of an alpine coaster and there had been no diversions or junctions in the track. I was still on the ride, as insane as that was starting to feel. Had the ride somehow looped? Again after having the thought I immediately dismissed it as crazy. There’s no way I could have missed the ride building where I got on. And what kind of ride loops over and over?
The sled zoomed through the forest, oddly never seeming to lose speed despite the relatively flat grade of the track. I cursed myself for leaving my phone in the car and not wearing a watch. I don’t know exactly how long I had been on the ride at that point but it felt like I had been on the ride for a half hour, maybe more. But time is a funny thing when you’re in a situation you’ve never been in. Could have been more, could have been less, at that point.
My pride finally failed me. I started to scream for help. I screamed out that the ride was broken, to stop it, that I needed help. I did that for about ten minutes or so I think. The ride kept going. Mostly flat, level track with occasional mild dips and turns. But the simple length of the ride grew more and more unnerving and unexplainable.
I thought about just bailing out. But the ride, impossibly, was still not slowing down and chunks of mountain rock and thick tree trunks were all around me. Bailing out without risking smashing into a rock or a tree seemed impossible.
The ride kept going.
Up ahead the forest was clearing out some, I could see the forest brightening, more sunlight making it through the canopy.
I wasn’t prepared for what I saw.
The trees stopped and I had just enough time to take in a flat, open area of rock maybe 40, 50 yards at most before another sheer cliff. The tracks twisted and turned and then shot straight down. But that wasn’t the worst of it. For a moment, a very short moment, I had a clear view for miles and the landscape was, to be blunt, totally impossible. Any possibility that I had just stumbled on some incredibly long ride was blasted out of my head. Barren, volcanic looking rock stretched for miles. Jagged, black rocky outcroppings as far as the eye could see. I was in the goddamn Smoky Mountains. They don’t look like that.
I had a few moments for the terror of that view to settle in before the cart plunged into another horrifying drop. I gripped the handles of the cheap plastic sled until my knuckles turned white. The drop felt completely vertical, like I was falling at terminal velocity. I screamed. My stomach dropped and turned. I imagined the sled coming away from the track and me just plummeting screaming to my death on the rocks below. But somehow the ride still functioned. I closed my eyes tightly and just waited for whatever was going to happen. Eventually after several what felt like a full minute of steep plunging the track again leveled out, and I opened my eyes to see myself moving at breakneck speed over that black, rocky landscape.
Now that I was moving on a more or less flat horizontal track again I took a few deep breaths. I looked over the edge of the track. Nothing but that black, jagged rock, almost looking like obsidian, zooming past. I had no idea how fast the sled was moving now. Fast. Faster than a gravity powered sled should be moving. And the track was higher off the ground now. Alpine slides usually stick pretty close to the ground, but I was 20 feet or so in the air, the track suspended in the air, a simple metal tube tower like a power pylon every few yards.
Without any immediate threat and the sled moving fast but steadily and level I was able to think about my situation again, for all the good that did me. Ahead of me the track just continued to the horizon, nothing but the same rocky landscape as far as I could see. I craned my neck to look back over my shoulder and looked back behind me and it looked the same. Even the mountains were but distant specs on the horizon behind me.
This was insane. There’s not a giant seemingly endless field of black jagged rock in the goddamn Smoky Mountains. There’s no cliff faces tall and steep enough for a multi-minute vertical drop. And alpine coasters were small affairs, not major engineering projects that span miles with pylons and vertical tracks. It made no sense.
Sadly it wasn’t going to start making any more sense anytime soon.
The ride kept going.
I was on this rocky landscape for several hours. I feel comfortable saying this because I could actually notice the sun getting lower in the sky. And the sled wasn’t slowing down despite the grade of the track being flat. I was getting cramped from sitting and stretched my legs and twisted my back as best I could. Didn’t do much help. My eyes were starting to get irritated from the constant wind in them. Worst of all it was starting to get chilly. I only had on a light jacket, a windbreaker, just something to keep the breeze off me, no real insulation. I was cold, my joints were stiff, I was hungry and thirsty. My eyes watered and my throat was so dry it was sore.
But none of that was as bad as just how little sense this all made. There’s nothing like this place anywhere near the Smoky Mountains. This was like some volcanic rock landscape. The more I thought about it the less sense it made.
The ride kept going.
My mind didn’t even try to process this. Whatever I was experiencing simply couldn’t be possible. I was crazy. I was dreaming. The CIA had kidnapped me and dosed me with some new version of LSD and I was in a straightjacket in a padded room at Area 51.
The sled kept zooming along as the sky turned to dusk. Soon the bridge disappeared from my view and I continued on along the endless, rocky, featureless landscape.
I sat back against the sled, mentally and physically numb. I was exhausted. I was thirsty. I was cramping up. I was hungry. I had to pee. I held it for as long as I could, then had no choice but just wet myself. I cried until I had no more tears left. Then I just sat there.
The ride kept going.
By the time the sun dipped below the horizon my throat felt like sandpaper. I dug around in my jacket pockets hoping to find a stick of gum or piece of candy. Nothing. I checked again, having nothing else to do. Under a crumpled store receipt in the inner pocket of my jacket was a single old, forgotten cough drop. I unwrapped it from the paper and popped it in my mouth. Saliva flooded back into my mouth and I was overwhelmed by the methanol and medicine taste. It was something at least, although I knew it would be a brief and temporary fix at best.
I felt my eyes get heavy. It was getting colder. That mountain cold. That deep cold the mountains have even into the early spring when the sun goes down. That kind that just pulls the heat right out of you. I shivered. A terrible, horrible certainty came to me. I would ride until I passed out from exhaustion or the hypothermia set in. My body would tumble off the sled to fall and skip across the rocky ground like a stone skipping across a lake, my bones breaking as I tumbled until my body finally came to a stop. If I was lucky I would be killed and not have to lie for days, broken and bruised, on the ground until death took me.
The ride kept going. The ride kept going. The fucking ride kept going.
“Fuck you” I said to the ride, my voice a horse whisper. I pulled my jacket closer around me, for all the good it did. The cold wind was slowly but surely pulling my body heat away. My shivering got worse, crossing the line from a simple normal shiver into those deep, almost violent full body ones.. I wasn’t anything you could call an experienced outdoorsman, but I knew enough to know that wasn’t a good sign.
It was getting dark. There was a full moon at least so I wasn’t totally in the dark.
About then I noticed something. The landscape, what little I could see in the fading light, was changing. It was smoothing out, becoming less rocky and craggy. Up ahead an odd, shimmering light was starting to appear on the ground.
I was over it before I even realized what it was. The tracks were going over a smooth surface.
Water. It was a lake. The odd lights I had seen were the moon, reflected in ripples on the lake.
Within minutes I was out of the view of the land. After the nearly endless rocky landscape and everything else I had seen, it scared me how little I was shocked. I didn’t like how mentally numb I was getting. I leaned over. There was enough moonlight to see the water, 15 or 20 feet below the track. The pylons holding up the track went into the water, the light wasn’t good enough to even make a guess at how far they went down or how deep the water was.I leaned back in the sled. My eyes were red and bloodshot from the constant wind. I closed them. This was a mistake.I jerked awake. I don’t know if I dozed off for a split second or an hour. My weight had shifted and I caught myself as my center of gravity was in danger of sending me off the sled and into the water.
I screamed in anger. A deep primal scream. I hurt so bad. My joints felt like they were full of glass. My limbs were full of pins and needles. I glanced over at the water. For the first time on the very edges of my brain a tiny voice started to speak up, telling me that I could be all over if I just jumped. I shut the voice up, but it scared me still.
I sat there as the ride went on. It felt like hours. Eventually the lake ended in a rocky shore line. The damned ride. There was no safe place to bail out. If the ride slowed down, it was high in the air, if it moved toward the ground it sped up. Sharp rocks, big trees, nothing you could safely bail out into.
I kept having to force myself awake. I kept dozing off. Once I felt myself falling asleep and drove a vicious uppercut into my own nose to stave it off.
I seriously started to think about how much longer I could hang on. The voice came back again. This time I didn’t shut it up. I wasn’t admitting it to myself yet, but I was starting to think about the best way to land that would end it quickly if I needed to.
Something was ahead. The track seemed to dip into the ground. I was too tired, too beaten to even get scared. I was just resigned to whatever happened at this point.
With little warning the track took my sled into a tunnel in the ground. Everything went completely pitch black. After several moments even the dim moonlight was gone.
This was the worst part. The creepy forest, the immense rocky landscape, the eerie lake… those were bad. But this was just nothing. Nothing to look at, nothing to hear, nothing for reference or sense of where I was going. The walls of the tunnel felt like they were inches from me in every direction. The air felt thick, like there wasn’t enough oxygen.
With every moment I was in that tunnel I lost a little more hope. After a long, long time I made a decision. When I got out of this tunnel, I would jump. I didn’t care anymore. Hopefully there would be a spot where I could be certain the fall would instantly kill me. I was done. The ride had beaten me. I sat there, waiting for a chance to end this on my terms. That was all I had left.
Eventually up ahead, a tiny speck of light appeared. I gathered my strength, ready to end it. I sat up, getting my legs under me so I could jump as soon as we were clear. The sled burst out of the tunnel. The dim light of the full moon was enough to be momentarily blinding after the pitch black of the tunnel.. I gave my eyes a moment to adjust.
I was back in a normal looking Appalachian forest. Rolling hills, green trees. The air smelled of pine again. I heard an owl hoot off somewhere.
Slowly I lowered myself back into a setting position, in shock. At first I refused to believe it but the ride was slowing down. I held still, making sure my mind wasn’t playing tricks on me, but no, the cheap plastic sled that had been my world for what felt like an eternity was slowing down.
Up ahead, a structure was visible, peeking out from among the trees in the dim lighting as the sled moved down the track.
It was the Alpine Slide building. The crappy fake red barn where I had boarded this cursed ride so long ago. I blinked and rubbed my eyes, sure it was either my mind or the cursed ride playing tricks with me. But the building stayed there.
It grew closer and closer. The track leveled completely out. The sled slowed down more. Before I had the time to really come to terms with it I arrived back at the building.
The sled slowed to a stop, gently pumping against another sled parked on the track. I sat there for a few moments, gasping in great big gulping fear breaths, trying to assure myself the ride didn’t have one last trick of its sleeve.
I looked around. The place was empty, deserted. The overhead lights were still on and the old Pepsi machine still glowed and buzzed, but the ticket booth was dark and empty, a metal gate pulled down over the ticket window.
Suddenly it hit me that I was free and I practically leapt out of the sled and onto the platform. I immediately collapsed. My legs were jelly and my head was spinning. I tried to stand up again and doubled over, dry heaving. Have you ever been out on a boat for a day and have that weird reverse motion sickness when you’re back on solid land? It was like that times a hundred. My inner ear was literally pounding, all the motion had really done a number on it.
I laid there for a few moments and eventually forced myself to stand up on my two wobbling legs. I looked around, a horrible certainty creeping into my mind that there would be no exit, no way off the platform but to my relief an exit turnstyle, one of those full height ones, was set into the fence that surrounded the ride property.
I went through it and found myself back on the main road. The truckstop was still there, still open but far less busy. My car sat in the same corner of the parking lot I had left it.
I allowed myself one look back, just one quick one. The metal skeleton of the Alpine Slide track sat there, dark and quiet but otherwise normal.
I stumbled-ran back to my car, dug the keys out of my pocket, and collapsed inside. When the door shut I let out a primal scream, the tons of fear and confusion and anger all fusing into a single, raw emotion. I screamed again and again.
After a few moments I felt like I was emotionally at least back to a place where I could act, although I wasn’t sure yet what to do next. Not really knowing what to do I cranked the car. The A/C had been on low when I shut off the car and it came roaring back to life and cold air blowing on me almost sent me back into a full on panic attack. I fumbled with the climate controls until the air stopped blowing directly on me, then calmed down enough to turn the heat on, helping to get the chill out of my bones. There was a half full bottle of water in the center console cup holder and I grabbed it and chugged it. Nothing ever tasted as good before or sense as that few ounces of water.
That was when I noticed the clock on the radio head unit. It was 4:17 in the morning. It had been about one, one thirty or so in the afternoon when I got on the accursed ride.
Over 15 hours. I had been on the goddamn ride for over 15 hours. Over half a day.
I just sat there. Warming up. Calming down. I was exhausted. I was dehydrated. I can’t even describe how my head felt. I probably had at least a minor case of hypothermia. I thought about going into the gas station and asking for help but what would I even say, and more than anything I just wanted to get away from this place. And I just wanted to get away. I wanted to be nowhere near that damn ride.
I put the Camaro in gear and pulled into the street and in panic I immediately slammed on the brakes. I was lucky there was no traffic on the road at that moment. The feeling of accelerating to just normal surface street speeds made me sick to my stomach. I gathered myself and very slowly accelerated the car I usually treated with a very heavy foot up to 30 miles an hour. Every time I tried to accelerate at a pace faster than “Old Lady Going to Church, Uphill” I would have a panic attack. I was okay once I was up to speed, but accelerating freaked me out after being on that ride.
I drove about 30 minutes, putting some arbitrary amount of distance between myself and the coaster. Eventually I made it back to where the twisty mountain road met back up with a major road that would eventually meet back up with the highway. After a few more minutes of driving I saw the onramp for the highway. There was one of those big truckstop travel plazas and pulled in, parking right up at the door. I smelled like pee and I can only imagine how I looked, but I didn’t care.
I kept a couple of emergency 20s in the back of my wallet and spent it on the biggest bottle of water the store had, an overpriced bottle of eye drops, and a huge travel mug of coffee. The clerk looked at me as if he was expecting me to either drop dead or rob him the entire time.
Back in my car I downed the coffee. I put a few eye drops in each of my eyes and sat there as the caffeine took effect until I felt like I could make it back to my apartment. The sun was just coming up when I finally pulled out of the truck stop and got on the freeway. I slowly, very slowly, accelerated up to highway speed, put the Camaro in cruise control, and let the miles start to drift away. I turned on the radio, I needed to hear human voices. Every time my mind went back to what had just happened I turned the radio up louder, eventually drowning it out with painful levels of rock music. I wasn’t ready to think about it yet. Yes looking back I know I was just in denial. I finally made it back to the crappy little apartment I had off campus, a little two story walk up studio. I let myself in and collapsed on the cheap couch. I was asleep before I even had the time to decide whether or not to do anything else. I woke up later that afternoon. I took a shower and ate a meal and didn’t think about the ride. I washed the pee stained filthy clothes I had been wearing and didn’t think about the ride. I went back to class and didn’t think about the ride. Every time I thought about the ride I forced it out of my head. I’m sure this wasn’t the most mentally healthy thing to do but what can you say?
I didn’t forget about it, don’t be silly. This isn’t the kind of thing you forget. One day while looking up something else in the university’s library my curiosity got the better of me and I looked up the Alpine Slide. No website but a few Google Map and Yelp mentions. None of them mentioned anything weird, certainly nothing even remotely like what I experienced. Near as I can tell it closed sometimes in the winter of 2012.
Life went on. I mean, that’s what it does. The next day was a little better. And the day after that a little better. And the day after that a little better still. I met a nice girl. Graduated. Got married. Got a nice house in the suburbs. Got a dog. Had a daughter. Spent a lot of time happy and not thinking about being trapped on an endless alpine coaster.And that was my life for many, many years after that.
Until a few weeks back when as a very different person I found myself driving a boring and safe mid sized family SUV through those same mountains. My wife Carol, 5 months pregnant, sat in the passenger seat, our 6 year old daughter Emily in a booster seat in the back, and Max our mixed breed mutt next to her. It had been a nice pleasant trip, driving back from visiting her folks.
I hadn’t thought about that fucking ride in so long I barely registered that I was in the same general area until it was too late. Suddenly I realized that little mountain tourist trap town was only a few minutes down the road. I swallowed hard and gripped the steering wheel hard. Carol was looking out the window at the scenery and Emily was deep into some kid’s Youtube video on an iPad. I forced myself to keep my breath steady as we rounded the corner.The town was still there, sorta. Time had not been kind to it. The gas station was still there, at some point it had been bought out by Shell. The tourist trap shops were still there. One of them was now a vape shop. The diner was closed, the building looking like it sat unused for a long time.
But of course that’s not what I cared about. A looked over at the site where the Alpine Coaster once stood. It was gone. The kitschy fake barn was gone. The site was just a bare concrete slab with a chainlink fence around it. Faded “no trespassing” and “for sale” signs hung off the fence. A pile of old, decaying lumber that might have once long ago been part of the structure covered part of the old lot. No sign of the track remained outside of some old concrete support posts dotting the side of the mountain.
I exhaled out a breath I hadn’t even realized I had been holding in. Soon the little town disappeared in my rear view mirror.
About a half hour later we stopped for gas. I pulled up to a gas pump across from a massive motorhome. Max stuck his head out the window and started barking at a little white dog, a toy breed of some kind, in the window of the motorhome. Carol and Emily immediately headed into the store to restock on snacks while I fueled up.
I stood there, a half smile on my lips as Max barked and wagged his tail in an attempt to attract the attention of the other dog while I filled up the tank, said dog doing an admirable job of ignoring him.
Right about the time I finished fueling up and cleaning the bugs off the windshield Carol returned from inside the store, Emily in tow, arms filled with two full sized bags of Salt and Vinegar Potato Chips and what looked to be a half dozen individually wrapped pickles.
I raised an eyebrow at the collection of food but knew better than to question a pregnant woman's snack choices.
“Should we take Max for a quick walk?” Carol asked. The travel plaza had a nice little gated dog walking area off to the side.
“Yeah probably not a bad idea, he’s been cooped up in the car for a few hours.” I said. Max, upon hearing his name and the word “walk” , forgot about the other dog and upgraded from wagging his tail to wagging his entire body while making whining sounds and staring right at me.
About this time I became half aware that the big motor home next to us was pulling away. I didn’t think much of it, outside of doing a quick automatic mental check to make sure Emily was well clear of the moving vehicle, but she was safely between me and our SUV, well out of the way.
But that was when Emily looked behind me and cheerfully yelled “Daddy look a roller coaster! Can I ride the coaster?”
It’s cliche as fuck I know but my blood went cold.
I turned around slowly, certain in my knowledge that terrible old decrepit Alpine Coaster would be there, having just popped into existence to trap me again.
That.. is not what I saw. Sure enough there was a coaster there, one I hadn’t noticed earlier because it had mostly been blocked by the motor home, but there it was. It was even an Alpine Coaster.
But it was not the same coaster I had encountered those years ago. That was immediately obvious. It was a small but modern and newish looking setup with neon lights and a bunch of people. There was an actual building where you bought tickets and a little snack stand.
“Daddy! Can we go on the coaster!” Emily asked again.
My mouth made motions but no words came out. I glanced over at Carol, hoping she’d say we didn’t have time but to my horror she smiled and said “You know what? That does sound like fun. Daddy will take you while I take Max for a walk.”
My mind raced, trying to think of a way to get out of it. But Emily was already dragging me across the parking lot to the entrance.
I patted my pocket, making sure my phone was in it. Every fiber of my being was screaming to run away. I slept walked through the line and the ticket booth while Emily bounced happily.
We got into a two seat plastic sled. This one was actually a lot nicer than the one my mind wouldn’t stop thinking about. It had two nice cushioned seats, big grab handles, even a nice rollbar.
The sled started up the track. I fought back the panic. I swerved my head around, keeping the building in my view. I was terrified of losing sight of it. We made it to the top and Emily did a happy squeal as we started down the side of the mountain.
My heart raced. Any second, any second my mind told me we’d lose sight of the building and then the ride would never end. The ride sped down the mountain. My mind tortured me with thoughts of not only going through it again, but seeing Emily go through it. The ride went around a big, banking turn. Emily kept shouting happily. How long before Carol reported us missing I wondered? Could I keep Emily calm? What if it lasted even longer this time? What if this time it never ended?
And then we were back at the start of the ride. The same attendant who had helped us into the sled was helping Emily out. I stepped out. The attendant gave me a brief look but said nothing. I guess I looked a little wild eyed.
I was fine. Emily was fine. It had been a perfectly normal, fun ride.
“That was fun Daddy! Thank you!” Emily said. I forced a smile back. “It was fun.” I responded, hoping like I sounded like I meant it.
I took Emily’s hand and we walked back to the car. Max saw us coming and barked happily. Carol looked up from the pint of Ben and Jerry’s she had somehow acquired and added to her snack collection while we were gone and smiled at us.
“Did you have fun?” she asked.
“It was so fun Mommy!” Emily said.
Carol smiled down at her, but then looked at me and frowned. “Are you okay?” Carol could read my face a lot better than the attendant could. “You’re pale.”
I smiled and this time the smile felt real. “Ya know what. Yeah, I think I am okay.”
Carol looked a little puzzled, but didn’t press it. We loaded Emily back in her booster seat, stopped Max from trying desperately to eat half a discarded gas station hot dog off the ground and got him back in the car. Carol and her small collection of snack food took her place in the passenger seat and I got in the driver's seat.I smiled. I cranked the car. I put it in gear. I pulled out of the gas station and back on the road, this time accelerating just a little faster than I had in years.

Prompt: The Variants of Vampires. Think of an alternative vampire that survives on something other than blood. Write a story or scene based on this character.
As the sun faded over the horizon, Vlad’s eyes opened slowly. A sigh escaped his cold lips, and he stretched his long legs onto the red velvet lining of his coffin. Another day has come. He thought sadly, as he had everyday for last 206 years.
He checked his timepiece in the left chest pocket of his silk pajamas, 8:36 p.m. Thankful for the spring sun that set earlier than it would in the coming months, he pushed on the heavy hardwood lid of his resting place. With a creak the wood swung open, landing heavily to the side. While a modern coffin would no doubt be lighter, and easier to open every evening, this one was sentimental to him. As he had been buried in this exact coffin 206 years ago, at 35 years old.
With a heavy sigh, Vlad rose and climbed onto the step that sat beside his coffin. His stomach rumbled, and he knew he had no choice but to venture to the kitchen of his estate home. With his head hung low, he began to undress.
You see, Vlad was not like other vampires. His long life was full of loneliness, even for one who was undead. When he had first been turned by his Maker he was optimistic, excited even, for the wonders of the world he would be able to see. With no time limit, no fear of death, and an infinite supply of food walking the earth- the possibilities stretched before him like the vastness of the night sky.
However, Vlad was unable to satiate the hunger that filled him, that turned him into a ravenous beast, night after night. The mere thought of blood churned his stomach, much to his Maker’s chagrin.
Isabel was her name. Even the thought of her filled him with longing. Her had loved her once, and she him, until they learned the truth: Vlad could not be sustained by blood, but one of the things that all Vampires feared: Garlic. Of all things. The thought still flooded him with embarrassment, even after more than two centuries of living as a Vampire.
He climbed the steps from his dirt cellar, whose entrance lay hidden behind a false door that led into the Master bedroom of his estate. He lifted the heavy wooden lever that would propel the door open to his closet. The clever vault disguised by many shelves of his expensive leather shoes. He kept an armoire near his coffin for convenience, as sometimes he awoke before the sun had set. A terrible habit he picked up 50 years prior.
He wound his way from the closet into the room, down the long hallway, and the curved staircase to the first floor. His heavy footsteps echoed eerily in his quiet manse, as his staff had already left at the end of their workday, thinking that he was abroad on business. A ruse which was quickly growing thin. Soon I shall have to replace my staff again, how much easier this dreary life would be if I could simply drink from them. He mused.
Vlad had no excitement for the night, as even the mere smell of his skin repulsed those of his kind. He was unable to rejoin his coven, the one that he had briefly reveled in. Expensive goblets of crisp red blood he could not drink, dances and guests from around the globe each night, the women with their necks adorned with jewels, some thought long lost to the mortals of the world, but safely stashed in the secret rooms of the elites of the Vampire world. The men in their black tuxedos, fashionable hairstyles and long white teeth often exposed in laughter. His tenure in his coven had been short, merely days, but it had been a lifestyle he mourned. He and Isabel had tried to make things work… But this train of thought was far too painful, and his stomach panged once again, so he quickened his steps and focused once again on his coming meal.
He made his way into the back kitchen, not the formal kitchen he would have likely entertained Isabel in (if he was a “normal” Vampire), but into the staff kitchen where the fridges were, and food was prepared and stored. Rows and rows of dried garlic bundles hung from the exposed wooden beams, all harvested from the garden on the grounds.
Vlad once again rued his life, as he wished the preparation of his meal didn’t fall to him each night. But he reached up and took down a bundle, released a corm from its tight knot, and sat at the stool at the quartz countertop, grabbing for one of his Japanese Damascus knives that made his task of slicing his garlic head easy.
Briefly inspired, Vlad decided a garlic comfit would be nice, and he got to work.

Modeling chocolate, also known as chocolate clay or candy clay, is a versatile and edible medium used by pastry chefs and cake decorators to create intricate decorations, sculptures, and cake toppers. Made from just two ingredients – chocolate and corn syrup – modeling chocolate is easy to make and can be shaped into virtually any design imaginable. In this comprehensive guide, we’ll take you through the process of making modeling chocolate from scratch, offering tips and tricks to help you master this essential skill in the world of pastry arts.
Ingredients:
12 ounces (340g) high-quality chocolate (dark, milk, or white) 1/3 cup (80ml) light corn syrup Instructions:
Chop the Chocolate: Start by chopping the chocolate into small, uniform pieces using a sharp knife or a chocolate chipper. The smaller the pieces, the easier it will be to melt the chocolate evenly. Melt the Chocolate: Place the chopped chocolate in a heatproof bowl set over a pot of simmering water, creating a double boiler. Make sure the bottom of the bowl doesn’t touch the water. Stir the chocolate frequently with a heatproof spatula until it is completely melted and smooth. Cool the Melted Chocolate: Once the chocolate has melted, remove the bowl from the heat and allow it to cool slightly. It’s important not to add the corn syrup to hot chocolate, as it can cause the mixture to seize. Add the Corn Syrup: Gradually add the corn syrup to the melted chocolate, stirring constantly with a spatula or wooden spoon until fully incorporated. The mixture will become thick and slightly sticky. Knead the Mixture: Transfer the chocolate mixture onto a clean work surface that has been lightly dusted with powdered sugar or cornstarch to prevent sticking. Begin kneading the chocolate with your hands, using a folding and pressing motion, until it becomes smooth and pliable. This process may take several minutes, so be patient. Test the Consistency: To test the consistency of the modeling chocolate, pinch off a small piece and roll it between your fingers. It should be soft, flexible, and hold its shape without cracking. If the mixture is too dry, add a small amount of corn syrup and continue kneading until the desired consistency is reached. Wrap and Rest: Once the modeling chocolate is smooth and pliable, shape it into a ball and wrap it tightly in plastic wrap. Allow the chocolate to rest at room temperature for at least 1-2 hours, or until it firms up slightly. This resting period allows the chocolate to fully set and develop its elasticity, making it easier to work with. Store Properly: Store any unused modeling chocolate in an airtight container at room temperature for up to several weeks. If the chocolate becomes too firm after storage, simply knead it gently with your hands until it softens to the desired consistency. Tips and Tricks:
Use high-quality chocolate for the best results. Avoid using chocolate chips or candy melts, as they may not have the same smooth texture and flavor as couverture chocolate. Dark chocolate produces a firmer modeling chocolate, while milk or white chocolate creates a softer, more pliable consistency. If the modeling chocolate becomes too sticky or greasy while kneading, allow it to rest for a few minutes or refrigerate it briefly until it firms up slightly. Experiment with different flavors by adding extracts, spices, or food coloring to the chocolate mixture before kneading. Modeling chocolate can be rolled, cut, shaped, and molded into various decorations, figures, flowers, and more. Let your creativity run wild! Conclusion: Mastering the art of making modeling chocolate opens up a world of creative possibilities in the realm of pastry arts and cake decorating. With just two simple ingredients and a few basic techniques, you can create edible masterpieces that will impress and delight your friends, family, and clients. Whether you’re a beginner or an experienced pastry chef, learning how to make modeling chocolate is a skill worth mastering for any aspiring confectionery artist.

First time writing something for this fandom, (this is an alt) any constructive criticism is welcome! Most of the inspiration for this came from u/chabri2000 and my own imagination. Enjoy the read!
Mordret stumbled, then caught himself. The dark ground near the Lord of Shadow's citadel made it hard to see, and the quiet rustling of the things hidden in the darkness was slowly growing on his nerves. He had not been stopped, strangely enough. He had heard stories of the echoes the Lord of shadow wielded from the sleepers sent to this area on the winter solstice. He cast those thoughts from his head as he opened the great doors of the castle-like citadel.
He walked in, hearing the sound of… something moving throughout the hall. He paused just past the threshold of the door for a moment. Mordret knew he was being watched. He could sense the reflections of two sets of eyes staring at him, but he was careful to not show any fear and kept walking forward, through the hall.
Eventually, a sliver of light was allowed to enter the darkness of the room, illuminating a throne of sorts, cut from stone, and an individual sitting on top of it. Though he could not see anything but a faint outline, Mordret knew this was the person he had come to meet.
“Mordret.” The figure from the throne said in a commanding voice, speaking Mordret’s name like a statement.
Mordret put on his best smile and did a light bow, before speaking in an almost reverent tone, “I wasn’t aware I had been introduced to the great Lord of shadows, but I suppose that that knowing who I am will make this exchange easier.” Mordret paused for a moment before adding “Though my presence as a saint had been revealed to the world, may I ask of how you knew it was me?”
The voice from the throne paused, and Mordret felt the reflections of the Lord of the citadel’s eyes get covered with a strange wooden mask (Clearly a memory from the way sparks appeared, perhaps it was a tool used to gauge his intentions, or perhaps strength?)
The Lord responded “Ah, think nothing of it, I had just heard a rumor and your response was enough of an answer for me.”
Mordret felt the reflections from the Lord’s eyes return as the strange mask was dismissed. “But that’s enough about me, what brings you here, servant of Song?”
Mordret opened the scroll he was given days ago by Ki song herself. He cleared his throat before reading, “Dear lord of shadows. By claiming and protecting a citadel in the middle of godsgrave, you have proven your strength. I offer you a deal, I will give you all the soul shards, memories, and echoes you will ever need if you bow your head to my rule and accept me as your sovereign. I hope you will accept this deal, Sincerely, Ki Song of Ravenheart.” Mordret glanced up from the scroll and looked at the Lord with a bit of curiosity, “So, what do you say?”
“No.” The Lord of Shadows responded quickly, “I have intention of joining your clan, if that was the purpose of your visit, Leave.”
Mordret sighed and put away the scroll, “You know, it’s quite sad you rejected my offer, but I’m afraid you will have to die now.” And with that statement, Mordret, known in another time and another place as “Soul Stealer” jumped into the soul sea of the Lord of Shadows.
. . . . .
The first thing Mordret noticed was the lack of light. Most souls were bright, and robust, but this one was very dark, the only light from coming from the six soul cores floating high above. Wait… six? Was the lord of Shadows a divine aspect holder?
Mordret’s thoughts were interrupted by a strange sound originating from the figure facing away from him. The lord of shadows was laughing.
“Ah… You haven’t learned any new tricks since then, I see. Well, no matter. I do ask one thing of you though, if you could, remember what I said to you back then, what was it…” His voice drifted off, turning into sad, slow laugh. “Right.” Mordret saw something, or perhaps many somethings starting to move beyond the area of light cast by the soul cores.
“You shall learn to fear the shadows."

TO Unlock Vectorman: Grand Prix: On Dark Fortress Zone, don't fall off the course & finish in good standing
I don't know how to explain this
but for example THAT FIRST SNEAKER BOOST U TURN!!! I can't help for the life of me it seems I keep falling off of it!
AND some of these are Big Challenges meaning you cannot unlock them with chao key until you've unlocked the other challenges around it!
These challenge circumstances are too complicatedly tricky for me to do Such as needing to do certain tedious challenges while on Grand Prix mode!! Like
To Unlock BIG: Grand Prix: On Emerald Coast, finish in good standing without going into water
or
To Unlock Eggrobo: As Knuckles, make Eggrobo retire
or
To Unlock Gutbuster: Time Attack: Get the Gold Medal for Sundae Drive Zone & unlock both of Robotnik's Mechanix
or
To Unlock Pulseman: Grand Prix: On Kodachrome Void Zone, shock a Self-Propelled Bomb into submission
Some character unlocks I can do, but others like these above!?!?! F*CK IT into some of these requiring lucky chance!!! 🤬┻━┻ ︵ ＼( °□° )／ ︵ ┻━┻
Maybe it's my mental issues into handicapping my gaming skills! (I have Aspergers for example...)
GAME DON'T YOU MAKE ME HAVE THOUGH LOSEAGE FAILAGE RAGE INTO HAVING TO ENTER THAT CERTAIN PASSWORD CODE!!
People keep saying this stuff about these gaming problems such as:

1. It's just a game.
2. Your skill at the game does not determine if you are a good / smart / worthy person or not.
3. The other people on your team are people too, and they're trying their best.
4. give the game a break and do something (else) that makes you happy.
5. There is no such thing as being "good" at this game. There will always be people who think you are great at the game and people who think you are garbage or something. Don't worry about what other people think of you and just try to have fun and improve at your own pace.
6. The bad always sticks in your mind easier than the good. Try to look out for the people who are killing it out there and try to play off of them if you can.
7. Odds are the guy you're raging at is like, 11 years old or something. Even if they're not, just try to imagine they are.

Unfortunately there are (probably) problems with these that can counter these learnings and throw them out the window and/or make you ignore these... I don't know how to describe how but there are...
Like I said before, If you cannot run with the big dogs, stay on the front porch...
ONCE AGAIN!!! GAME DON'T YOU MAKE ME HAVE THOUGH LOSEAGE FAILAGE RAGE INTO HAVING TO ENTER THAT CERTAIN PASSWORD CODE!!～( TロT)σ