Ministers apologise and return £7,000 in benefits to woman, 93, with dementia
Government ministers have formally apologised and repaid £7,000 to a 93-year-old woman whom they held responsible for running up benefits overpayment debts even though they were told she had dementia and was unable to manage her affairs.
The case, which the minister for disability, Mims Davies, admitted was “disturbing”, was brought to light by the Guardian as part of its investigation into carer's allowance overpayments.
The agreement to write off the debt of the 93-year-old, whom the Guardian has chosen not to name, comes as ministers have promised to try new ways of sharing information with carers to try to prevent them building up months and years of overpayments.
Read the full article on theguardian.com
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DWP confirmed that it is developing an ‘enhanced notification strategy’ to alert carer’s allowance claimants to possible overpayments
Notifications designed to encourage claimants to report changes in income and so reduce the risk of being overpaid.
As part of its policy paper, Fighting Fraud in the Welfare System: Going Further, that was published earlier this week, the Department says (at paragraph 78) -

'In carer’s allowance we are progressing an enhanced notification strategy as part of our existing commitment to improve customer engagement, building on our existing communications with customers. As part of this notification strategy we are considering all forms of targeted contact to find the most effective and efficient solution, such as exploring the use of targeted text messages or emails to alert claimants and encourage them to contact the Department when the DWP is made aware of a potential overpayment.'

The Department added -

'The new strategy will help claimants understand when they may have received an earnings-related overpayment or are at risk of doing so, and will encourage claimants to contact the DWP to meet their obligation to inform the Department of changes in their income and other relevant circumstances. This will reduce the risk of those customers being overpaid.'

Note: having expressed concern that the DWP had 'done nothing' to stop carers building up huge overpayments of benefit despite knowing what people are earning, Work and Pensions Committee Chair Stephen Timms called on the National Audit Office to investigate problems with the carer's allowance system and, in particular, its failure to prevent or rectify overpayments.
Stephen Timms has also written to Secretary for State for Work and Pensions Mel Stride highlighting concerns about the DWP's lack of progress with overpayments since the previous committee's report in 2019. Mr Timms' letter repeats the committee's recommendation that the DWP increase the rate of carer's allowance and goes on to call for the DWP to review both the amount and the cliff-edge nature of the earnings limit and for the removal of the 21-hour study rule.
For more information, see Policy paper: Fighting Fraud in the Welfare System: Going Further from gov.uk
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Carers UK has welcomed the DWP's plans, noting this is the 'minimum' they've been calling for to tackle carers' overpayments. However, Director of Policy and Public Affairs Emily Holzhausen also highlights that implementing the strategy is 'urgent', asks that the whole issue be moved out of being branded benefits fraud, and that carer's allowance be reviewed as it should be 'modernised to reflect the realities of caring'.
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DWP-commissioned research highlights how the carer’s allowance earnings threshold influences decisions about how many hours carers work
Report also makes clear that the Department was made aware three years ago that there was room to improve claimant understanding and possibly reduce mistakes leading to overpayments by improving its communications.
The research, Experiences of claiming and receiving carer’s allowance, explores how and why people claim carer's allowance; their caring roles; experiences of combining paid work and care; and how well claimants understand the rules associated with the benefit. While carried out in 2020/2021, the research has been published today against a backdrop of calls for the wholescale reform of carer's allowance as a result of evidence that claimants who have earned above the carer's allowance earnings limit have been left with large overpayments and, in some cases, prosecuted for fraud.
While the research found that many claimants in employment felt there was a practical limit to the hours they could work, with many saying it was only feasible to be working part-time due to their caring responsibilities, it also found that -

• the earnings threshold appeared to influence decisions about how many hours some people worked. Even though claimants often denied that the threshold influenced their choices, they acknowledged being mindful to stay below the threshold. One claimant felt he had to refuse shifts at work that would take him over the threshold;
• in another example, the earnings limit led a claimant to reduce her hours as her wages increased, and eventually she was working so few hours that her employer felt it was not worth employing her due to her limited availability; and
• some claimants in paid work felt they might work more hours if not for the earnings threshold, and even suggested tapering the carer’s allowance earnings rule to encourage claimants to work more.

Published on the same day that the Work and Pensions Select Committee said that there has been insufficient progress in addressing the problems with carer's allowance that it highlighted five years ago, the research makes clear that the Department has been aware of the issues for some time. For example, it highlights confusion relating to the complexity of the earnings calculation, including how deductions such as childcare expenses and pension contributions are taken account of, and whether wages can be averaged if you earn more in a particular week.
In addition, with the Chair of the Select Committee Stephen Timms having said recently that the DWP has done nothing to stop carers building up huge overpayments despite knowing what people are earning, and the Committee having called on the National Audit Office to investigate the problems with the system, the research found that -

• poor communication on the part of the DWP meant that not all of those that had been overpaid benefit were clear on the reason for the overpayment;
• some said that while they were initially notified or questioned about an overpayment there was then no follow-up from the Department; and
• when the overpayment was initially raised, several claimants felt that they were spoken to or treated by DWP as though they had intentionally committed fraud when the overpayment had been a misunderstanding.

As a result, the research says -

'... there is room to improve claimant understanding and possibly reduce mistakes leading to overpayments by improving communications around eligibility criteria. Since claimants did not engage with the detail of their benefit regularly, possibly only considering it once a year when they received their annual letter, more frequent communications may improve clarity of knowledge around carer’s allowance.'

Other key findings include that -

• most claimants cared for close relatives, with two in five caring for a child (39 per cent), a quarter caring for a spouse or partner (25 per cent), and one in five (22 per cent) caring for a parent;
• caring was a long-term and high-intensity commitment, with half of claimants (52 per cent) spending 65 or more hours caring per week and more than half (54 per cent) caring for between 5 and 20 years;
• only 16 per cent of carer's allowance claimants were currently in paid work, tending to work part- time in lower paid jobs that they were able to fit around their caring responsibilities, with most (81 per cent) working 20 hours or less a week;
• of those not currently in paid work, seven in ten (69 per cent) said this was due to their responsibilities as a carer, with other barriers including a lack of flexible working options, claimants’ own health and confidence issues; and
• there was a lag between starting caring and claiming carer's allowance, with seven in ten claimants (70 per cent) caring for 5+ years, but only 3 in 10 (34 per cent) having claimed carer's allowance for that length of time.

For more information, see Experiences of claiming and receiving carer’s allowance from gov.uk
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Almost 135,000 people currently have an outstanding carer's allowance debt, with more than £250 million owed in total, according to figures supplied by DWP Minister Paul Maynard
DWP Minister also confirms that women represent 68 per cent of those with an outstanding debt.
Responding to a written question in Parliament from Work and Pensions Committee Chair Stephen Timms, Mr Maynard said -

'As of 14 May 2024, the volume of people who have an outstanding carers allowance debt is 134,800 with a total value of £251 million. This figure represents the total stock and as such the total monetary amount may have been accrued over multiple years. Those who have an outstanding carers allowance debt may no longer be in receipt of the benefit.'

Mr Maynard added that -

'Women make up the majority of carer’s allowance claims, and this is reflected in the proportion of those with an outstanding carer’s allowance debt. As of 14 May 2024, there were 42,800 (32 per cent) males, 91,900 (68 per cent) females and 100 (less than 1 per cent) not identified, with an outstanding carer's allowance debt.'

The Minister also confirmed that, as of November 2023, there were more than 991,000 people in receipt of carer's allowance, consisting of around 271,000 (27 per cent) males and 720,000 (73 per cent) females.
Mr Maynard's written answer is available from parliament.uk
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Total value of benefit overpayments in 2023/2024 increased to almost £10 billion, representing 3.7 per cent of benefit expenditure for the year
New DWP figures also show that official error underpayments remained at around £1 billion, and that people could have claimed more than £3 billion more 'if they had provided accurate information about their circumstances'.
In Fraud and error in the benefit system: financial year 2023 to 2024 estimates, the DWP calculates how much money it overpaid or underpaid as a percentage of total benefit expenditure for the year (£266.2bn) - for benefits including universal credit, housing benefit, personal independence payment, employment and support allowance and pension credit - and how many claims were paid an incorrect amount.
Note: the statistics no longer include estimates of claimant error underpayments as these are now published separately, as confirmed in recent DWP guidance.
In relation to incorrect payment rates across all benefits for the financial year ending (FYE) 2024, the figures show that the total rate of benefit expenditure overpaid was 3.7 per cent (£9.7bn), compared with 3.6 per cent (£8.3bn) in 2022/2023. In addition, the total rate of benefit expenditure underpaid was 0.4 per cent (£1.1bn), compared with 0.5 per cent (£1.2bn) in FYE 2023.
Looking in more detail at the figures for individual benefits, the statistics include data showing that -

• for universal credit, expenditure increased to £51.9bn in 2024 with an overpayment rate of 12.4 per cent (£6.5bn) and underpayment rate of 0.3 per cent (£180m), compared to expenditure of £43.4 bn, overpayments at 12.7 per cent (£5.5bn) and underpayments at 0.6 per cent (£240m) in FYE 2023;
• for personal independence payment (PIP), the overpayment rate was at the lowest recorded level of 0.4 per cent (£90m), compared with 1.1 per cent (£200m) in FYE 2023. However, the underpayment rate went up to 0.4 per cent (£80m), from 0.3 per cent (£60m) the previous year;
• for pension credit, the overpayment rate was 9.7 per cent (£520m) in FYE 2024, compared with 6.8 per cent (£330m) in the previous year, with underpayments remaining unchanged at 0.3 per cent (£50m) for both years; and
• for housing benefit, almost £1bn (£980m) was overpaid in FYE 2024 (6.3 per cent of expenditure), compared with £860m (5.7 per cent) in 2023. Underpayments remained stable at 0.4 per cent of spending (£50m in FYE 2024 and £60m in FYE 2023).

In addition to the fraud and error statistics, the DWP has also issued Unfulfilled eligibility in the benefit system: Financial Year Ending (FYE) 2024, in line with its decision to remove claimant underpayments from its main fraud and error estimates. The new statistics set out the percentage of benefit expenditure that could have been paid to people with unfulfilled eligibility 'if they had provided the correct information', and show key findings that include -

• the unfulfilled eligibility rate for 2024 is 1.2 per cent of expenditure (£3.1bn), compared with 1.0 per cent (£2.3bn) in the previous year; and
• universal credit, PIP and disability living allowance (DLA) account for around three-quarters of the total value of unfulfilled eligibility (at £730m, £870m and £750m respectively in FYE 2024).

The DWP highlighted that -

'PIP has the second highest unfulfilled eligibility rate [4 per cent] of all benefits and fairly high expenditure [£21.6bn], so due to this combination, PIP accounts for around one-quarter of total unfulfilled eligibility in FYE 2024. DLA has the highest unfulfilled eligibility rate [11.1 per cent] but relatively low expenditure [£6.8m], so even though its rate is higher than PIP, it accounts for a similar amount of total unfulfilled eligibility in FYE 2024. Universal credit has a lower unfulfilled eligibility rate than DLA and PIP [1.4 per cent] but its high expenditure means that it also accounts for a similar amount of total unfulfilled eligibility in FYE 2024.'

For more information, see Fraud and error in the benefit system: financial year 2023 to 2024 estimates and Unfulfilled eligibility in the benefit system: financial year 2023 to 2024 estimates from gov.uk
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Work and Pensions Secretary Mel Stride has set out the DWP's plans to scale up its 'fight against fraudsters'
New measures include using machine learning to detect and prevent fraudulent claims, as well as introducing a new Bill to enable benefit fraud to be treated like tax fraud.
Issuing a written statement in the House of Commons on 13th May, Mr Stride said -

'In the continued fight against fraud, today the Government will publish a new paper setting out the progress we have made in tackling fraud and error in the welfare system - Fighting Fraud in the Welfare System: Going Further. The paper sets out the progress we have made in delivering the commitments in the Government's 2022 command paper Fighting Fraud in the Welfare System and it demonstrates where we are going further to protect taxpayers’ money from fraudsters.'

Highlighting that the Data Protection and Digital Information Bill, currently before Parliament, will enable the Department to work with third parties such as banks to identify claims that signal potential fraud and error, Mr Stride says that the new measures being introduced include -

• bringing forward a new Fraud Bill in the next parliament to treat benefit fraud like tax fraud, by providing for the ability to make arrests and conduct searches and seizures by warrant;
• exploring a new civil penalty to punish fraudsters, potentially broadening the scope of cases that can receive a penalty when the courts are not prosecuting, and increasing the value of the civil penalty;
• tripling the size of the Targeted Case Review programme to reach almost 6,000 staff with the aim of saving £6.6 billion by 2027/2028; and
• making changes to universal credit including new partly automated checks on self-employed income, new online prompts for claimants to re-declare their circumstances (such as if they have moved in with a partner), and increasing checks on capital when people claim the benefit to ensure they are eligible.

Note: the Department confirms that final decisions on accepting or stopping a claim will, however, continue to be made by a member of DWP staff.
For more information, see DWP updates Fraud Plan from gov.uk
In response to the above article the Disability News Service reported that the government's fraud policy paper ignores coroner’s concerns over review of disabled woman’s universal credit claim. Read the DNS article on disabilitynewsservice.com
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Less than half of legacy benefit claimants who were sent a migration notice between July 2022 and March 2024 have made a claim for universal credit, according to new figures from the DWP
However, new DWP statistics also show that 60 per cent of households that claimed universal credit have been awarded transitional protection.
In Completing the move to Universal Credit: statistics related to the move of households claiming Tax Credits and DWP benefits to Universal Credit: data to end of March 2024, the DWP sets out figures for the period since July 2022, noting that -

'In the period covered by this bulletin, the vast majority of migration notices have been sent to tax credit households whose likelihood of claiming universal credit and receiving transitional protection may be different from DWP legacy benefit claimants, the majority of whom had not yet been sent a migration notice in the period covered in this bulletin.'

The statistics include that -

• a total of 824,050 individuals (in 540,070 households) were sent migration notices up to March 2024 - up by around 300,000 and 200,000 respectively compared to the totals for December 2023;
• a total of 400,940 individuals (49 per cent of those sent migration notices), living in 275,980 households, have made a claim for universal credit;
• of households that have claimed universal credit, 166,860 (60 per cent) have been awarded transitional protection;
• a total of 238,990 individuals who were sent migration notices are still going through the managed migration process; and
• a total of 184,120 individuals who were sent migration notices have had their legacy benefit claims closed.

Move to Universal Credit statistics, July 2022 to March 2024 is available from gov.uk
Note: the DWP has also published Universal Credit statistics, 29 April 2013 to 11 April 2024­ which show that there were 6.7 million people on universal credit in April 2024 (300,000 more than the 6.4 million in January 2024) and that half of households on universal credit that received a payment in February 2024 included children.
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Department for Communities also confirms that claimants in receipt of other legacy benefits will be issued with migration notices 'in the coming months'
The Department for Communities (DfC) has confirmed that the 'Move to UC' rollout in Northern Ireland has expanded this week to include people receiving tax credits along with housing benefit.
Announcing the expansion of the process, Deputy Secretary of Work and Health at the DfC Paddy Rooney said -

'We continue to take a measured and carefully managed approach to migrating legacy benefit recipients to universal credit. We have already successfully completed issuing migration notices to tax credit only recipients and we will continue to take every step possible to ensure that everyone receives the help and support they need during this next phase of Move to UC.'

The Department also confirmed that once it has issued migration notices to all those receiving tax credits with housing benefit, the following groups will be contacted in this order -

• people claiming income support;
• people claiming housing benefit only, and those claiming child tax credit with income-related employment and support allowance (ESA); and
• people claiming income-based jobseeker's allowance.

In relation to the bringing forward of managed migration for ESA and ESA/housing benefit claimants in Great Britain, announced by the Prime Minister on 19 April 2024, the DfC says that it is working to assess the impact of this on the region. It also confirms that it will align with the DWP's aim to complete the migration of legacy benefit claimants to universal credit by March 2025.
For more information, see Tax credit with housing benefit recipients next to 'Move to UC' and Rollout of Universal Credit for Tax Credit and Legacy Benefit customers - screening from ni.gov.uk
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57,000 adverse universal credit sanction decisions were made in January 2024, according to new DWP statistics
DWP statistics also highlight that around 95 per cent of decisions are as a result of failure to attend or participate in a mandatory interview.
In Benefit sanctions statistics to February 2024, the DWP reports on both the rate and duration of sanctions for universal credit claimants who are in conditionality regimes where they be applied.
Key findings include that -

• in February 2024, 30.1 per cent of claimants were in conditionality regimes that were subject to sanctions and, of these, 6.52 per cent were sanctioned - down 0.64 percentage points from the previous quarter;
• over the last year, 94.9 per cent of adverse sanction decisions were for failure to attend or participate in a mandatory interview; and
• in February 2024, there were 20,000 completed sanctions in the 4 weeks to 13 weeks sanction duration band, 4,800 in the over 13 weeks to 26 weeks duration band, and 4,000 of over 26 weeks duration.

In addition, while the total number of claimants in conditionality regimes where sanctions can be applied has remained largely stable since May 2022 (currently at 1.95 million), the total number of adverse sanction decisions stood at 57,000 in January 2024, the highest since March 2022.
The DWP notes that -

'Comparisons with universal credit prior to February 2024 ... should not be made. This is because the data sources, methodology and rules of the benefits differ from those used for universal credit currently.'

However, it adds that, following the reinstated duration measures and rate methodology improvements, the data is now determined stable and fit for purpose and, as of May 2024, it is published under the 'Official Statistics' label as opposed to 'in development'.
For more information, see Benefit sanctions statistics to February 2024 from gov.uk
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DWP has admitted missing multiple opportunities to record the 'vulnerability' of a disabled woman whose death was later linked by a coroner to failings at the heart of its UC system
The Disability News Service reported on the case of Nazerine (known as Naz) Anderson, from Melton Mowbray, who died of an overdose in June last year, after receiving a UC review notice.
According to a prevention of future deaths (PFD) report sent to the department by coroner Fiona Butler, the DWP missed six opportunities to record Anderson’s “vulnerability” on its IT system while it was reviewing her universal credit claim, and had failed to act on the mental distress she showed in phone calls about her claim. It also repeatedly failed to act on requests to direct its telephone calls and letters to her daughter.
The DWP admits multiple universal credit failures before disabled woman’s death article is available on disabilitynewsservice.com
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Number of emergency food parcels distributed across the UK by the Trussell Trust has increased by 90 per cent over the past five years
Food charity reports that it distributed more than three million parcels last year, with more than a million of them going to children.
In Emergency food parcel distribution in the UK: April 2023 - March 2024, the Trust says that it distributed 3,121,404 food parcels, the most parcels that it has ever distributed in a financial year, representing a four per cent increase on last year's record-breaking numbers for 2022/2023 and a 94 per cent increase since 2018/2019.
The charity also highlights that the number of parcels provided to children has continued to rise, exceeding 1.1 million in 2023/2024, and that food bank support is provided disproportionately to children, compared to the proportion of children in the UK population. In addition, it notes that pension age households are increasingly likely to need to use a food bank, with food bank support for these households having more than quadrupled between 2018/2019 and 2023/2024 (an increase of 345 per cent), compared to an 81 per cent rise amongst households without someone of pension age.
Also sharing statistics on the reason for referral for an emergency food parcel - which include health, benefit issues, work hour changes, insecure housing, changes in personal circumstances, immigration status and domestic abuse, as well as income and debt levels - the Trussell Trust says -

'Across all households the most common reason for referral was due to issues with income and debt levels. The vital role of the social security system in driving these trends is clear from the fact that the majority (78 per cent) of people referred to food banks were reported to solely have income from the social security system, with a further 8 per cent having earned income as well as income from social security.'

Trussell Trust Chief Executive Emma Revie said -

'It’s 2024 and we’re facing historically high levels of food bank need. As a society, we cannot allow this to continue. We must not let food banks become the new norm ... A supportive social security system is the bedrock on which we end hunger for good. Building on this, we need much more effective employment and financial support for parents, carers and disabled people, and action to ensure everyone can have the security we all need to access opportunities and have hope for the future, through more secure and flexible jobs and investment in social housing. Food banks are not the answer. They will be there to support people as long as they are needed, but our political leaders must take bold action to build a future where everyone has enough money to afford the life’s essentials. The time to act is now.'

For more information, see End of Year Stats from trusselltrust.org
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Employment Minister Jo Churchill has provided a House of Lords Select Committee with an undertaking that the administrative earnings threshold (AET) in universal credit will not be increased again without a 'sound evidence base'
However, Minister's evidence to Lords Committee fails to address its dissatisfaction with DWP's explanation for not publishing robust evidence to support previous increases in the threshold.
Further to the Lords Secondary Legislation Scrutiny Committee's report on new regulations that implemented a further increase in the AET from 13 May 2024 - that criticised the ‘inexplicable’ lack of data evaluating previous increases in the threshold in September 2022 and January 2023 - the Committee held a one-off evidence session yesterday to question the Minister and DWP officials.
Introducing the session, Committee Chair Lord Hunt acknowledged that the DWP had agreed to share its informal findings supporting its AET policy. However Lord Hunt added that -

'... similar, no doubt to the material that the Social Security Advisory Committee saw but correctly declined, if information is not available to the House and the public, then we feel unable to consider it either.'

The Committee then questioned the Minister about the Department's failure to publish evidence providing an assessment of the impact of increasing the AET either before or after implementing the change.
In response, Ms Churchill highlighted that the Department did publish a randomised controlled trial evaluation in 2018 providing the highest level of evidence on the impacts of increased in-work conditionality that Ministers have had sight of. When challenged that this evidence is somewhat outdated and 'a bit threadbare' - as it has been relied on for three increases in the AET - Ms Churchill indicated that Ministers also had early sight of unpublished research (a Regression Discontinuity Design (RDD) study) that compares the experiences of claimants who are just below and just above the AET.
When pressed on the expected publication dates for this and further evidence, Mr Churchill said -

'I have asked for [the RDD study] to be available as soon as it can be, and the date I was given was spring 2024 ... I would like it out the door as soon as possible, so you have more data ... RDD is the next piece, the next building block and then, the longitudinal study will come through in 2025.'

Concluding the session with a final question, Lord Hunt, speaking on behalf of the whole Committee, said -

'... we're looking for an undertaking from you, not to further expand the cohort until the Department can publish robust evidence of its effects. Are you able to give us that undertaking?

Ms Churchill responded -

'So are you alluding to us holding 15 hours or with this latest laying at 18? Because I could certainly say to you, I think with all confidence that at 18, we want to understand the iterations and make sure that we've got a sound evidence base from there.'

NB - the increase in the AET in January 2023 was based, for individuals, on the equivalent of them working 15 hours per week at the National Living Wage, and this week's increase to the equivalent of them working 18 hours per week.
Despite welcoming the Minister's reply, Lord Hunt went on to say -

'... we accept your undertaking, except we are still as dissatisfied as we were because you haven't provided, in the view of the Committee, sufficient explanation yet. We are awaiting this robust evidence, which I think that we now expect in June 2024.'

The evidence session Regulations to increase the Administrative Earnings Threshold (Legislative scrutiny) is available from parliament.tv
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Work and Pensions Select Committee has called on the government to bring forward proposals to compensate women born in the 1950s who suffered as a result of the DWP's communication failures when their pension age was increased, and asks that it does so in the current parliamentary session
Committee chair highlights lengthy delay and urgency for affected women and calls on government to act on Parliamentary Ombudsman recommendations before summer recess.
Writing to Secretary of State for Work and Pensions Mel Stride, Committee Chair Stephen Timms requests government support for 'urgent action' following the Parliamentary Ombudsman's final report in March 2024 which recommended a remedy based on level 4 of its severity of injustice scale, putting awards at between £1,000 and £2,950.
Mr Timms says that the Committee does not seek to question the Ombudsman's proposal for compensation at level 4, but instead has focused on what a remedy may look like -

'The evidence we received indicated support for a rules-based system. This would be a system where payments would be adjusted within a range (based on the PHSO’s severity of injustice scale) to reflect the extent of change in the individual’s State Pension age and the notice of the change which the individual received. This would mean that the less notice you had of the change and the bigger the change in your SPA, the higher the payment you would receive. While not perfect, the advantages of such a system are that it would be: quick to administer; applying known data to a formula to determine the amount due; and relatively inexpensive (compared to a more bespoke system).'

The Committee's recommendation also includes some flexibility for individuals to make the case for further compensation in the event that they have experienced direct financial loss, for example where a woman whose divorce settlement was less than it would have been because it was based on the expectation that she would receive her state pension at 60.
Mr Timms also asks the government to consider -

'... the need for urgent action, given that the Ombudsman started to look at this issue in 2018 and that every 13 minutes a woman born in the 1950s dies ... Implementing a remedy will need parliamentary time, financial resources, and the data and technical systems only available to your department. It cannot happen without government support. We would ask you to bring forward proposals for a remedy by the summer recess.'

Mr Timms' letter to the Secretary of State for Work and Pensions is available from parliament.uk
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"You gotta know that there's an art to it, Ezra," Hitch said, cutting another piece of duct tape.
The sleeves of his weather-beaten coat were shoved all the way up his arms, to stop the fabric from falling over his knuckles while he was working, and goosebumps lined his skin. He was strapping a rubber chicken to the back of his truck, over the lens of the shattered backup camera, with the legs pointing down so that they hung a couple inches above the ground. There were dents in the hood from the crash last week, and scratches along the door from scraping into a curb. The chicken, hopefully, would keep him from breaking anything else.
"You can't go cheap," Hitch said. "The cheap rubber chickens only make noise when pressure lets go. That's no good. As soon as I back up into something, I want this chicken to be screaming like it’s in the depths of hell."
“Sure thing,” I said in a monotone, leaning against the side of the truck.
There were scrambled electronic parts piled in the back of the truck, the innards of a radio, a broken computer, tangled wires, a couple loose pairs of earbuds. He found the parts in alleyways or bummed them off his friends for a couple bucks or stole them from the vacation homes that were left empty for most of the year. Then he sold them for a profit at the scrapyard. Hitch had bounced between minimum-wage jobs for a while after high school, spending a couple months as a bagger at the grocery store or as a seasonal worker at the farm two hours down the highway. He'd never stuck with it. At the very least, the scrapyard got him enough money to eat and occasionally spend a night in a motel when he got tired of sleeping in his car.
Hitch pressed the last piece of tape in place and grinned up at me. "I've got something for you, duck."
The nickname came from when I’d broken my leg as a child and waddled around in a cast until it was healed. I hated it with a burning passion, and I glared at Hitch with the ease of twenty-one years of practice. He had a duck tattoo at the base of his thumb that he’d gotten in a back-alley shop as a teenager. He said that he’d gotten it to remind him of me, and the fact that I hated the nickname was just a bonus. It was shaky-lined, with an uneven face, but he loved it anyway.
The handle stuck when Hitch tried to open the door, a consequence of the rust collecting in the crevices of the car and running down the sides like blood from a cut. The car groaned when the door finally popped open, a metal against metal screech that had me flinching away. Hitch dug through the cluttered fast food containers in the passenger-side footwell, eventually coming up with a crinkly paper bag. He waved away the flies buzzing around the opening of the bag and held it out to me.
The last time Hitch had brought me food, I’d gotten food poisoning because he’d left it out in the midday sun for two days. The donut was squished slightly, and the icing was stuck to the bag. I still ate it, grimacing at the harsh citrus flavor. Taking Hitch’s food was an instinct engraved from the days when Dad had given us a can of kidney beans for dinner and Hitch had drank the juice, leaving the beans for me.
I rarely went hungry anymore, three mostly square meals a day and granola in my pockets just in case, but habits didn’t die easy.
These days, Hitch only brought me food when he wanted my help, like when he saw a place he wanted to hit but was worried about doing it alone.
I got in the car, like I always did.
We drove past the cluster of seafood-themed restaurants with chipped paint decks, the beachfront park where there were always shifty-eyed men sitting under the slide, the single room library where all the books had been water damaged in the flood last year. The change was quick as we drove across Main Street, heading closer to the beach. The roads were freshly paved, the concrete a smooth black except where the sun had already started to pick away at it. The three-story homes lining the sides of the street were crouched on elegant stilts, with space underneath for a car or three. Most of the garages were empty, with the lights off and curtains drawn in the house. Come summer, the streets would be swarming with tourists and vacationers, but until then, most of the buildings nearest to the beach were unoccupied.
Hitch stopped as the sun started to go down at a house that was leaning precariously out towards the beach, tilted ever so slightly, the edge of its foundation buried in the shifting sand of the beach. It certainly looked deserted, with an overgrown yard and blue paint peeling off the door in sheets.
Hitch took his hammer out of the backseat, hoisting it over his shoulder. It was two feet of solid metal with rags wrapped around the head to muffle the sound of the hits. Hitch squared up, bending his knees and holding the hammer like a baseball bat. Before he could swing, though, the door creaked open on its own, the hinges squeaking. The house beyond was dark enough that I could only make out general shapes, glimpsing the curve of a sofa to the left, what was maybe the shimmer of a chandelier on the other side.
Hitch lowered his hammer, looking vaguely disappointed that he didn’t get to use it. “That’s…weird as hell.”
“Maybe the deadbolt broke, maybe they forgot to lock it, it doesn’t matter,” I hissed, checking our surroundings for other people again. “Just hurry up and get inside before someone calls the cops.”
Hitch flicked the lightswitch on the wall, and the lights flickered on. They were dim, buzzing audibly and blinking off occasionally. The walls were plastered with contrasting swatches of wallpaper and splattered with random colors. There was neon orange behind the dining table, a galaxy swirl in the kitchen, and on the ceiling there was a repeating floral pattern covered in nametag stickers. Each of the stickers was filled out with The Erlking. Chandeliers hung in every room, three or four for each, and rubber ducks sat on every table. A miniature carousel sat in the corner along with a towering model rocket.
Sand was heaped on every surface, at least a couple inches everywhere. It was piled in the corners and stuck to the walls, and it covered the floor in a thick blanket. Our hesitant steps into the house left footprints clearly outlined in the sand.
Hitch took a cursory look around and headed immediately for the TV mounted on the wall. “Look out the windows and tell me if anyone is coming.”
I shook the sand out of the blinds and pulled them open, then had to brush sand off of the window before I could see anything.
Hitch was quick, practiced at finding and appropriating the things that were worth taking. He came back to me with an armful of electronics and chandeliers, dumping it at my feet before turning to head deeper into the house again.
There was a thump, somewhere upstairs, and then footsteps, slow and deliberate. Hitch froze at the threshold of the room, then ran for the door with me just ahead of him, sand flying out from under our feet.
My hand was almost brushing the doorknob, close enough that I could see the light from the streetlamp outside streaming in through the cracks in the door. My fingers touched the wood and it gave under my touch, becoming malleable and warm. I yelped, stumbling backwards, and the door started to melt. The paint ran down in thick drops, pooling at the bottom of the door, and the wood warped like metal being welded. The soft edges of the door ran into the walls until there was no sign of an exit ever being there.
“Well, well, well,” said a cultured voice with just an edge of snooty elitism. “What do we have here?”
The man was well over eight feet tall, with long black hair covering his eyes. He was wearing a yellow raincoat with holes cut out of the hood to accommodate the deer antlers jutting upwards from his head. There was sand settled on his shoulders and hovering around his head like a halo.
“Who the fuck are you?” Hitch said, inching towards a window.
He smiled, just a little bit, and his teeth shone in the dim light. “I am the Erlking.”
Hitch nodded, and seemed about to respond. I grabbed him by the hand and pulled him towards the window. I could feel sand in the wind roaring against my back as the Erlking growled in anger, the grains scraping harshly against my cheeks.
We were almost to the window when Hitch was ripped away from me, and I came to a startled halt. The sand had formed long grasping arms that pressed Hitch against the floral wallpaper. His wrists were held tight, and as I watched, a sandy hand wrapped around his mouth and forced its way between his teeth. He gagged, and sand trickled out of the corners of his mouth.
The Erlking strolled towards him, not seeming to be in any sort of rush. “You know, I’m not very fond of your yapping.”
He made an idle gesture and the sand wrapped around my ankles, tethering me in place.
“I yap all the time,” Hitch said. “Three-time olympic yapper, that’s me. Best to just let me go now and save yourself some trouble.”
The Erlking tapped a manicured nail against Hitch’s mouth, hard enough to hurt, judging by the way he flinched away. “But why would I ever let you go when I’ve gone to this much trouble to catch you and your sister? It’s so hard, these days, to find people that no one will miss.”
Hitch struggled against the sand, trying to escape and failing. “What do you want with us, then? You just said it, we’re nobody.”
“I’m fae, dear one,” the Erlking said. “I get my power from my followers. And I think that you two will make lovely additions to my flock.”

He flicked Hitch's nose and Hitch gasped. Feathers started to form on his arms, popping out from under his skin in a spray of blood.
Hitch pushed off the wall, using his bound hands as a fulcrum, and his knees crashed into the Erlking’s stomach. The Erlking fell backwards, wheezing, and the sand around my ankles loosened.
Hitch made desperate eye contact with me as feathers shot up his neck and jerked his head towards the window. The message was obvious. Run.
The last thing I saw before crashing out the window and into freedom was Hitch’s body twisting, his arms wrenching into wings and feathers covering every inch of his skin. By the time I landed on the concrete outside, he was a small black bird, held tightly in the Erlking’s hands. The whole building was sinking into the ground, burnished-gold sand piling up over top and streaming from the windows.
Thirty years later, I saw Sam’s Supernatural Consultation and Neutralization written in neat, looping handwriting on a piece of paper taped to the door. The tape was peeling at the corners and the paper was yellowed with age, but there was obviously care put into the sign, in its perfectly centered text and looping floral designs drawn over the edges in gold marker.
I knocked, hesitantly, drawing my woolen coat closer around my shoulders. I’d bought it as a fiftieth birthday gift for myself, and I took comfort in the heavy weight of it over my shoulders.
“Coming!” someone called from within the depths of the office.
There were a couple crashes, and the sound of paper shuffling. Eventually, the door was opened by a young woman with ketchup stains on her shirt and pencils stuck through her hair.
“Hi, I’m Sam, I specialize in supernatural consultation and hunting, how may I help you today?” Sam said, customer-service pep in her voice. She stood in the doorway, solidly blocking entry into the office.
“My name is Ezra, I’m for a consultation. I emailed you but you didn’t respond?” I shifted in place, suddenly feeling awkward.
“Oh! Yeah, I lost the password for the email ages ago. Sorry for the bad welcome, I get lots of people thinking I’m crazy or pulling a prank and harassing me.”
She ushered me into the office, clearing papers off one of the chairs to make room for me to sit down. There was a collection of swords along one wall, all of them polished to perfection, several with deep knicks in the metal which indicated that they’d been used heavily.
“So what can I help you with?” Sam asked again, more sincere this time.
“Thirty years ago, my brother was turned into a bird,” I started. I’d told this story so many times that it barely felt ridiculous to say anymore. I was used to the disbelieving looks, the careful pity. But Sam just nodded along, face open and welcoming.
“I’ve almost given up on finding him, at this point,” I said. “But I saw your ad in the newspaper, and…here I am, I suppose.”
“Here you are,” Sam echoed, smiling. She pulled one of the pencils out of her hair and took a bit of paperwork off of one of her stacks, turning it over so that the blank side sat neatly in front of her. “Tell me everything.”
I told Sam everything, and she wrote it all down, pencil scratching along the paper.
The last part of the story was always the hardest to tell. “I left him there. I ran and I didn’t look back.”
I had been to dozens of detectives and investigators over the years, once the police had dropped Hitch’s case. I’d been to professional offices with smartly-dressed secretaries and met scraggly men in coffee shops. All of them had given me the same look, pity and annoyance all mixed up into a humor-the-crazy-lady soup. Sam, though, just seemed thoughtful.
Sam leaned forward and put a hand over mine, carefully, like she thought that I would pull away. “Sometimes you have to leave people behind.”
I tightened her hold on Sam’s hand and drew it towards me, like I could make Sam listen if only I squeezed tight enough. “But that’s why I’m here. I don’t want to leave him behind.”
“Okay then. I’ll do my best to help you.” Sam agreed, finally. Then she paused, and said softly, “You know…I think I met your brother once. He might have saved my life. He’s certainly why I started in this business.”
“Really? What happened?” I asked.
This is the story that Sam told me, related to the best of my abilities:
It was a new moon, so the only illumination came from the stars gazing idly down and distant porch lights shining across the scraggly brush of the dunes. Sam’s neighbors were decent people who cared about baby turtles, so the lights were a low, unobtrusive red, and the ocean sloshed like blood. Sam walked on the beach almost every night, drawing back the gauzy pink curtains and clambering out her bedroom window. She didn’t often bother to be quiet; her mama worked the late shift and came home exhausted. As long as Sam got home before the sun, her mama would never find out that she paced the shoreline and dreamed of inhaling sand until her lungs became their own beach.
The sky was lightening. The sun would come up soon, and that meant Sam’s time on the beach was over. She needed to get back to her real life, go to her fifth grade class and stop that nonsense, as her mother would say. Her mother loved to say things like that, pushing Sam into her proper place by implication alone.
“She’s a good kid, of course, but she’s a bit…” Her mother would trail off there, usually getting a commiserating expression from whoever she was talking to. Sam always wondered how that sentence would have finished. She’s a bit strange, maybe. She’s a bit intense. She’s a bit abrasive. She’s quiet enough but when Jason tried to steal her pencil in math class, she stabbed him in the hand so hard that the lead tattooed him.
Her mother was better, for the most part. The days of her stocking up the fridge, and leaving a post-it note on the counter, and leaving for days at a time were gone. But Sam still stepped around the place on the kitchen tile where her mother had collapsed and caved her head in, even though the bloodstains had been replaced with new tile.
“Your auntie got an abortion, you know,” her mother had said from her place on the couch, slurring her words. “Pill in the mail and then bam, no more baby.”
She had clapped her hands together to illustrate her point. Her mother jerked forward and grabbed Sam by the wrist, then, staring up at her until Sam met her eyes.
“I love you, you know? But sometimes I wonder…” She settled back onto the couch. “Yeah. I wonder.”
She’d gotten up, then, back to the kitchen. She’d been stumbling, a shambling zombie of a woman. The ground in the entryway of the kitchen was raised, ever so slightly, and her mother went down hard. Her head cracked against the tile, chin first, and she didn’t move.
Sam had been the one to call the ambulance. She had stared at the scattering of loose teeth on the ground while she waited, and considered what her life would be like with a dead mom. Not so bad, she thought, and immediately felt guilty for it.
Her mom was better, now, for the most part. But Sam still stepped around the place on the kitchen floor where she had collapsed. There was still a matchbox hidden under her bed with the gleaming shine of her mother’s lost teeth, two canines and a molar. It was nice, having a piece of her mom to keep. Even if she left again, Sam would still have part of her.
Sam sighed, and turned away from the ocean. As she faced towards the low dunes further up the beach, she saw a sandcastle sitting nestled among them. It was such a strange sight that her eyes skipped over it at first, almost automatically, disregarding it because it was so out of place.
Sam found sandcastles out on the beach sometimes, usually half-collapsed and on the verge of being washed away by the waves, but she had never seen anything like the sandcastle in front of her. It was life-sized, something that wouldn’t have looked out of place in the Scottish highlands, with spires shooting up above her head and carefully etched out bricks lining each side. The front wall was dominated by an arched set of double doors, twice her height, with a portcullis nestled at the top, ready to be dropped. All of it was lovingly detailed, down to the rust on the tips of the towers and the wood grain of the door. It was made out of wet, densely-packed sand, held together impossibly. It had not been there two hours ago, when she had come to the beach.
There was a bird sitting on the overhang of the door, small and black.
As soon as she took a step towards the sandcastle, the bird shook out its feathers and swooped down towards Sam, landing at her feet with a little stumble.
“Hey, kid, get out of here,” said the bird.
Sam closed her eyes, very deliberately. When she opened them, the bird was still there. Sam considered herself a very reasonable person, so she immediately drew the most logical conclusion. The bird was, she was almost certain, a demon.
“Trust me, you don’t want to run into Mr. Salty, the queen bitch himself,” the bird said.
“Mr. Salty?” Sam inquired, polite as she knew how to be. She edged to the side, trying to get a good angle to kick the bird like a soccer ball.
The bird did something similar to a wince, all its feathers fluffing up then settling back down. “Ah, don’t call him that. He’d turn you into a toad.”
The bird gestured with its head, towards the looming sand structure. “That’s his castle. He’s in there, probably scuttling along the ceiling or some shit because that’s the sort of weirdo he is.”
Sam nodded, encouraging. She pulled back her foot and lined up her shot, the way she’d seen athletes do on TV. She aimed right for its sharp beak and let loose. The bird saw it coming, its beady eyes widening, and it cawed in distress. It flapped away, avoiding her kick only to fall backward into the sand in a scramble of wings.
“What’s your fucking problem?” it squawked. “I was trying to help you!”
“I don’t need the help of a demon,” Sam yelled, trying to remember the exorcism that her mama had taught her once, because her mama believed in being prepared for anything.
“I’m not a demon,” the bird said indignantly.
It was at about that moment that Sam gave up and just decided to roll with it.
“What are you, then?” Sam asked.
The bird shuffled its clawed feet, looking about as awkward as it could, given that it didn’t really have recognizable facial expressions. “Technically I’m a familiar of the Erlking, prince of the fae, but I prefer to be called Hitch.”
“You can’t blame me for assuming, though,” Sam said. “Ravens do tend to be associated with murder.”
“Hey, excuse you,” Hitch said. “I’m a rook, not a raven. Ravens are way bigger.”
“Sure,” Sam said, not really paying attention. Her eyes had caught on the details of the sandcastle, and she was transfixed by the slow spirals of the sand, the strange beauty of it. She found herself stepping towards the great doors, lifting a hand to knock, and as she did, the sand warped in front of her eyes, heaving itself towards her with bulging slowness. The door creaked open before her, revealing a vast, empty room. Just before she stepped inside, she felt a piercing pain in her foot, and she yelped, leaping backwards.
Hitch pecked her again, really digging his beak in. “Don’t be an idiot.”
Sam glared at him, rubbing her foot. About to retort, she finally really took in the room inside the sandcastle, and her words died in her throat.
There was a body just past the threshold of the door, face down and limbs hanging limp at its sides. Long hair splayed out in a halo around its head.
“Don’t,” Hitch warned, suddenly serious. “Just leave, kid, I mean it. I’ve seen too many people go down this road and you don’t want to be one of them.”
Sam ignored him. She made her way across the beach, slipping with every step. The sand felt deeper, piling up around her feet in silent drifts. She picked up the nearest stick and poked the body with it through the door, ready to leap back if anything went wrong, staying firmly outside of the sandcastle.
This close, Sam could tell that it used to be a woman. Her head wasn’t attached to her body. It hadn’t been a clean amputation, either. Her upper body was bruised, with chunks taken out of it, and the bones in her neck hung mangled, not connected to anything.
“Well, I warned you,” Hitch said, defeated. “I did warn you.”
Sam nudged the head with the end of the stick, nudging it over so that she could see the face. Her mother stared back at her, torn to pieces, breath still wheezing from her lungs. She wasn’t blinking, just gazing forward with glazed eyes. Sweat dripped down from her hairline.
Sam screamed and dropped the stick, tripping over herself in her haste to get away.
Her mother’s eyes were wide and pleading, and she was mouthing desperate words at Sam. Her vocal cords were broken to bits, and the only sound that came out was a strained groan.
The head rolled, inching closer to Sam like a grotesque caterpillar.
Her mother gasped for air, torn lips fluttering. Finally, comprehensible words came out. “Help. Help me, daughter.”
“That’s not your mother,” Hitch said, quiet.
Sam knew that. Her mother was sleeping back at home, and anyways her mom had never asked for her help. She had an aversion to accepting charity, as she put it.
“Okay,” Sam said, shaking all over. “Okay.”
She backed away from the sandcastle, not looking away.
“Failure,” her mother hissed as she stepped away. “I never wanted a daughter like you.”
The sun came up over the horizon. The sandcastle, Hitch, and her mom all disintegrated into sand as the light hit them.
The beach, the next night, was almost exactly how I remembered it. The beams of our flashlights sent light bouncing across the dunes, illuminating the waves, and I imagined faces in the foam of the waves.
“I’ve been back here a hundred times. There’s nothing left,” I said.
Sam took the car key out of her purse and pointed it at the sand, adjusting the sword slung over her shoulder in order to do it. The key had belonged to Hitch; Sam had requested an item of his, and it was the only thing I had left. She rested the key on the sand and drew a circle around it, inscribing symbols around the borders.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
Sam shrugged. “Not much, really. I’m…I guess you could say that I’m knocking.”
The key laid inert on the sand for long enough that I was just about to give up and go home, admit to myself that Hitch was dead and that I was a fool to believe that Sam could actually help me. Then a building started to take shape, flickering in and out like it was struggling to get away. With a pop of displaced air, the sandcastle settled into existence.
Sam banged on the entryway. Nothing happened. She did it again, harder, and scowled when the door still didn’t open.
“We demand entrance, under your honor,” Sam yelled. There was a hard rush of wind, and I gripped Sam’s arm to keep my balance, but the doors cracked open reluctantly.
The inside of the sandcastle consisted of one enormous hall, the roof arching up out of sight. Rafters crisscrossed from wall to wall, and a cobbled path led further into the building, but other than that, it was completely empty, except for the birds. There were thousands of them, perched on the rafters or hopping along the ground. They parted in front of Sam and I, and reformed behind us, leaving us in a small pocket of open space. They were all black-feathered, with sharp beaks and beady eyes.
The Erlking sat on a throne at the end of the hall, lounging across it with his feet up on the armrest. He watched them as they came forward, the soft caw of the birds the only sound.
“I am here to bargain for the life of my brother,” I said, with as much dignity as I could muster, before the Erlking could say anything.
The Erlking ignored her, tilting his head to look at Sam. “I remember you. I almost got you, once.”

Sam glared at him but didn’t respond.
“You want your brother,” The Erlking said to me, and he almost sounded amused. “Then go get him.”
As if by some sort of silent signal, every bird in the room took flight at once, and their cawing made me think of screams. I covered my head against the flapping of their wings, and my vision was quickly obscured by the chaotic movement of them. I found myself on my knees, just trying to escape them.
A hand met my shoulder. Sam urged me to my feet, and together we ran for the edge of the room, where the swarm was the thinnest. We pressed ourselves into the corner and the swarm spiraled tighter and tighter at the center of the room. It went on until there seemed to be no differentiation between the birds, all of them fused together into one creature.
When the chaos died down, the birds had become one mass, with wings and eyes and talons sticking out of its flesh, thrashing and chirping. Human body parts stuck out of it, bulging out from the feathers. It was hands, mostly, with a couple knees or staring eyes. The bird amalgamation had no recognizable facial features, but there was one long beak extending from the front of its head. Most of the body parts were concentrated around the beak, and they peeked out from where the beak connected with muscle, or grew from the tongue, nestled between the two crushing halves of the beak.
It turned its beak down and crawled forward, using the hands to balance. The fingers scrambled over the ground. I was afraid of centipedes as a child, and I felt that same crawling dread when it started moving.
“Holy shit,” Sam whispered, which was rather disappointing, because I had been hoping that at least one of us knew what to do.
The creature turned, a lurching movement that crushed some of the hands underneath it, and started heaving itself slowly towards our corner.
“Better hurry up!” the Erlking called from his throne.
It was blocking the exit, by then. The shifting body of it had moved to block us off. It ambled towards us and I tried to sink further into the corner.
As it approached, getting close enough that I could smell the stink of it, I saw a flash of a tattoo on one of the hands. I leaned in, trying to find it again, like looking for dolphins surfacing in the ocean. And again, I caught a glimpse of a duck tattoo, the tattoo that Hitch had gotten on his hand as a teenager.
I ripped away from Sam’s death grip and ran for the monster.
I fell to my knees in front of it, wincing as I impacted the ground, and reached into the nest of hands. I could feel them tearing at my forearms and ripping into me with their sharp nails, but I kept going. I pressed further in, up to my shoulder in a writhing mass of limbs, aiming for the spot where I had last seen that tattoo.
The hands were tugging at me, wrapping around my back and hair. They were pulling together, trying to draw me completely into the mass of them. I was aware of Sam at my side, anchoring me in place and bashing any hand that got too close with her sword or the sparks that leapt from her hands with muttered words. But I didn’t think it would be enough. They were too strong, and there were too many of them.
I was up to my waist in the hands when something grabbed my palm. I felt the way it clung to me, and the calluses on its palm, and I knew that I had found my brother.
I flung herself back. The hands didn’t want to let me go, and they fought the whole way, but slowly, I made progress. I kept hold of Hitch’s hand in mine the whole time, gripping it as hard as I could. I finally broke free, Hitch with me, and Sam was immediately charging the creature, able to use her sword with much greater strength without being worried about injuring Hitch. She swung it forward, and it sliced through the wrist of one of the hands. It fell without a sound, red sand flowing out of it. It deflated until it looked like dirty laundry, just a piece of limp flesh. The creature shrieked, scuttling away enough that the door was finally accessible. The three of us ran for it, Sam and I supporting Hitch between us.
I looked back as I left and found the Erlking staring right at me.
“Interesting,” he murmured, his voice carrying impossibly across the vast space between us.
The sandcastle collapsed behind us, the great walls falling in on themselves. We were out in the morning sun, the sandcastle disappearing as we watched. Hitch was on the ground in front of me, as young as he’d been thirty years ago, when he was captured. He started laughing, feathers puffing out of his mouth. He laughed until he cried and I hugged him in the way that he’d held me when I was young, in the times when my life had been defined by hunger and fear.
Hitch left, afterwards. He scratched at the pinhole scars covering his body, where feathers burst through his skin, and pulled his long sleeves down around his wrists. He didn’t know where he was going but he told me that he needed time
I had spent thirty years worth of time without him. I wanted to grab my brother by the shoulders and beg him to stay. But he flinched when I hugged him goodbye and he refused to go near sand and he stared distrustfully at the birds chirping in the trees. Hitch needed to go away and I loved him too much to stop him.
I sat out on the beach every morning. I felt the sun on my face and I waited for Hitch to come home.

Hello all,
According to HTB's Nmap module, the TCP Connect scan option on Nmap is "the most accurate way to determine the state of a port, and it is is also the most stealthy. Unlike other types of scans, such as the SYN scan, the Connect scan does not leave any unfinished connections or unsent packets on the target host, which makes it less likely to be detected by intrusion detection systems (IDS) or intrusion prevention systems (IPS)."
However, the official Nmap documentation claims that "When SYN scan is available, it is usually a better choice. Nmap has less control over the high level connect call than with raw packets, making it less efficient. The system call completes connections to open target ports rather than performing the half-open reset that SYN scan does. Not only does this take longer and require more packets to obtain the same information, but target machines are more likely to log the connection."
I am getting conflicting information here, and am thus getting a little bit confused.
Any clarification would be greatly appreciated.
Thank you :)

1330 Terran Front Fleet Time
On the Turinika homeworld, the first signs of unrest began to manifest like a wave, The broadcast of the most esteemed Tizikikoonazikiakakiatkata, Taratanti of the roost Kazatalak, openly performing the act of Kavsa had been met with shock. The last Taratanti who had voluntarily performed Kavsa had done so in protest of the treatment of the Kulorn caste, nearly two thousand years prior. It was an ancient rite, one that signified rejection of the greatest shame. Even more shocking than the act itself was the evidence that had followed it. Visuals of species, brought into the Conclave, not as migrant workers as had been believed, but as slaves, was met with an almost immediate attempt at censorship. This attempt failed spectacularly, mostly due to those who had been tasked to censor the information not only refusing to follow the command, but openly declaring that they had been ordered to do so. A situation that was already, as the humans would say, out of hand, spiraled completely out of control. Within only twenty minutes of the ending of Tizikikoonazikiakakiatkata’s broadcast entire cities entered a state of absolute anarchy. Two planetary capitals were stormed and taken by the furious civilian population, demanding the location of those who had been enslaved. The Turinika Armada, which even then was in the middle of a training session meant to prepare the fleet to withstand the Terran Front’s assault, began to cease operations. Within the hour, the entire armada would be recalled to the turnika homeworld. Those who did not take to the streets simply stopped whatever work they were doing and went to their homes to be around their brood. Images of Tizikikoonazikiakakiatkata with his stripped wings spread wide in front of the human fleet commander were on every news fed of the Conclave, as was the sound of his thunderous voice, and the wails of despair from a turinika female that couldn’t be seen. Close ups of the human fleet commander’s face were shown, with analysts remarking on the shock, horror, and sympathy. Since the outbreak of the Seventh Orion War, the female human known as Simmons had been reported to have made several threats towards the turinika, she had quickly become seen as a warmonger, ready to take revenge against the turinika for refusing to go to war and violate their principles of pacifism. Now the images of her lunging forward to stop the violation of Tizikikoonazikiakakiatkata’s plumage, the agonized expression of her face, and the true reason for her threats against the turinika were rapidly reversing her image. On far flung deep core mining stations and agricultural stations, on deep space stations dedicated to material processing, and in other areas hidden from the sight of the normal turinikan population, overseers and taskmasters felt their hearts run cold at the knowledge that very soon, their part to play in the willful enslavement of another species would be known to the wider Conclave. As the data package transmitted alongside the broadcast were fully decompressed and the scale of the Conclave’s government’s involvement was revealed, the entirety of the Conclave itself was teetering on the verge of absolute pandemonium. The image of a member of the kolra species, from the look of it barely a hatchling, quickly was becoming the face of the entire incident. The picture was absolutely damning, and the sight of the image had sent any who saw it instantly into contorting and painful displays of shame. The young kolra was sprawled on it’s stomach, looking to the one taking it’s picture with eyes that had no life in them. It’s shell covered it’s back, and despite the age of the kolra it was already dulled and scuffed. The foot pressing down on the shell was unmistakably familiar to those who saw it, the clawed feet of a turinika. Within the hour, billions of winged figures stood in streets, the normally soft spoken and passive species demanding action, demanding justice, on the hundred worlds of the Turinika Conclave. The bulk of the Taratanti caste, most of whom had been left in the dark of the truth of the situation, quickly went public with their own declaration of outrage, and the eyes of the entire species turned inwards to the mountainous homeworld of their species.
Hakuri Watanabe looked down at his helmet before putting it on his bed, the stylized SEVEN seeming to stare at him. He sat down in his chair and picked up a small cloth from his buffing kit. No one knocked on his door, in fact, mostly he and the rest of his squad were left alone before a major operation. They were just given their time, time to mentally prepare. Some of his squad would go over their mission briefing, some, like him, would spend their time doing something to relax themselves. Hakuri always found that taking care of his suit calmed him considerably. Granted he could simply turn it over to the squads armorers to be tended to and they would do as good of a job as he could, but he preferred it to be done by his own hand. The symbol of a triangle was on his form fitting shirt, the symbol of his special operations command unit. He was known as a Myrmidon, but the official title of his unit was Section Three. He knew this, his superiors knew this, and as far as Hakuri knew, most of the Terran Front was aware of his unit’s existence, but past that, they knew very little about what he actually did. As far as his mother knew, Hakuri was a pencil pusher onboard the TFS Berlin, the troop mothership that all of his letters were sent from. He thought about writing her, but then again, he only liked to do that when he returned from a mission, not when he was expecting to go to one. If he tried to write her when he was waiting, he would just get anxious, and homesick. That wouldn’t do when he was dropping into a combat zone. That wouldn’t do at all. Hakuri instead started to buff his helmet, waiting for the word to come down which meant they were prepared to jump. A glance at the clock made him pause in his circular rotations. The clock said 1330. Operation Naked Sun was about to begin.
Tika was on his side, Kzia standing at the end of the medical bed that had been adjusted for his turinikan physiology. He felt cold in more ways than one. For his people, clothing was more of a decoration than a necessity, but without his protective plumage he felt the cold stabbing him through to his hollow bones. His diplomatic access was already gone, his privilege access revoked. He heard the broadcast for a preparation to jump, but he wasn’t truly listening. There was no question in his mind he had made the right decision. There was no question at all. One of the humans, a nurse, came to his side and gently laid a heavy blanket over him. The human’s hand lingered on his trembling body for a few moments before it was removed, and Tika glanced in their direction. The female was one of the ones who had responded first to the call for medical service for him, had heard what had happened and why. Tika had gotten very used to being glared at on this ship. He was hated, and he knew it. He knew he had deserved it. He was a party to the vral’s enslavement of the humans, the chua, and far too many others. When he had come to Thermopylae station, he had not even given that fact a single thought. He was born into power, being of the Taratanti. He belonged to the most powerful species and government in the entire quadrant of the galaxy. His people, while mighty, did not seek to use it. To him, they had simply been above it all. When the vral had approached him with the offer to sell captured species at first TIka had wanted to reject it out of hand, but a few had told him to go through with the sale. Such was the nature of this galaxy, or so he had believed. The weak were at the whims of the strong, and one’s place in the galaxy was determined only by the power they could wield. The turinika were not nearly the first to have taken a species and used it for slave labor, and while Tika did not approve of the deal, he had not fought it either. As he looked back to the wall, he remembered what the humans had taught him these last days. When he had arrived in Thermopylae he had assumed he would find the chua species to have been at the very least regulated to a subservient role, if not outright enslaved. Finding them sharing power was a curiosity. He had expected to be treated with all the honor and dignity that his station demanded, that the power of his government demanded. Fleet Marshal Simmons had disabused him of that, and had left him humiliated and shamed. As he had laid in the dark as Simmons had declared the Seventh Orion War, covered in his own filth, feeling as if at any moment he was going to be killed he knew true fear and horrific uncertainty for the first time in his life. He had never faced these emotions, these sensations before. He had always been in power. He had stood with the full might of the Turinika Conclave behind him. He had never known anything other than the superior position. Now, as he lay in the hospital bed, staring at the wall, he was ashamed of how arrogant, how blind, and how short sighted he had been. After he had risen from his own filth, he had desperately tried to convince his leadership of the strength of the Terran Front, how it matched or eclipsed their own. The Conclave was not the unchallenged power in the quadrant anymore. The terrans, the human and chua, had somehow defied fate. They had not fallen to the vral after ninety years of near constant conflict, and now if Tika was right they had come out of it nightmarishly stronger than before. Tika had actually begged to be heard by his superiors, and he had never come close to that once in his life. The chua homeworld however, had fully broken him. If he had not been on the Antares, had not been humbled beforehand, he knew that he would have just clapped his hands together and said that it was delightful. As the transmission from the chua homeworld had come in, and the rescue effort had begun, he could only wallow in his own shame. He had profited directly from the chua’s suffering, the human’s suffering. Again he had tried, and failed, to convince his people, and again he had failed. Being on the Antares, for him, was torture. The lights were too dim, every human and chua looked at him with nothing more than loathing and contempt, his entire worldview had been shattered from the way he viewed the galaxy to his own place in it. Every time he closed his eyes he saw the shadow of Simmons standing over him, her voice cold with a lethal rage, hearing her voice echo in his mind, seeing the glint from flashes of light shining in her eyes. ‘We Know.’ echoed in his mind in his sleep, the voice of the terrifying Fleet Marshal transforming into the sound of a vengeful god demanding compliance and promising retribution. Then he had watched the humans and chua, who he knew were preparing to go to war with his people, celebrating the return of the shesvie. Once more he had expected them to be integrated into the Terran Front, but as soon as he learned Simmons offer to them, and what it had entailed, he had been called to his room to answer the latest message from his people. Once again, his people had doubled down, the knowledge of the enslavement of the humans had been suppressed, and once more Tika found himself, and his people, standing against a Terran Front that had every justification to declare war, to right the wrongs that had been done to them. All the while, he knew something else. He knew that, after everything he had seen, that his people would lose. The turinika had not been to war for nearly two thousand years. His people were not ready for what the Terran Front could do, and after seeing what they had done to the vral so far, he knew his people were not ready for what the Terran Front would do. He was afraid of the dark. Tika was absolutely terrified of it now, because now he knew the monsters were real. Simmons had shown him that, but the humans, the chua, they were not the monsters. He was. He had refused to be one any more. He had announced his intentions to his staff, who had squalled in rejection, all but three. Kzia was the first to step to his side, Kikumot and Tziki had stepped forward as well. Never, in his most nightmarish dreams, did he ever think that he would stand in front of Simmons and voluntarily have his plumage stripped from him, performing the act of Kasva. He never thought that his staff would have ever compiled and transmitted the data package they had sent. He had never thought that he would betray his people, if only to save them. Simmons had changed that, the humans had changed that. He knew the terror of the dark, he knew fear for his people’s safety, he understood the horror of war, and for the first time in his long life he could truly look back at every interaction he had had, with every species, that had asked for help in their struggle for survival against the vral and truly understand their fear and desperation. Now he lay, his plumage stripped from him, his station revoked, his status removed, surrounded by a people who despised him. He wouldn’t have it any other way now. He knew that they would listen now, if not to him, then to the civilian masses of the Conclave that would not stand for what they had done. He prayed to the Great Mother often now, shivering in the dim light, hoping that it would be enough. He had been wrong, and in his error he had sullied his own people. He had made them complicit. Even now, he did not know how they would ever be forgiven, because right now he wasn’t quite sure he could ever forgive himself. As he heard the broadcast calling out on the ship, announcing one minute to jump, he felt a hand on his side, and looked up to the human nurse. She was smiling at him. Not a smile born of malice, or anger, but a genuine smile. She patted his side lightly, then turned to walk out of the room. For not even the twentieth time since he had come onboard Thermopylae, he was mystified by these people.
The bridge of the Dhampir was thrumming with music and the vibrations of the reactor and Conrad leaned forward in his chair mount, his eyes almost feral as he looked at the empty space that was the mandeville point. He was positively chomping at the bit. Batz was positively roaring the lyrics to the song that was blaring over the ships speakers. Rev and Dev sat side by side in their mounts, throwing their hands up in time with the pounding bass beat of the sound. Towns was the only one besides Conrad that was quiet, both of them looking towards the mandeville point with complete impatience. Conrad felt like jumping from his skin. Fidget, well, fidgetted, holding his hands over his headset and listening as if he were trying to hear secret messages in the music. They were ready, their pulses were racing. The crew of the Dhampir was positively vibrating. Conrad looked to the shipboard clock, seeing 1330 displayed, and his head snapped to Fidget, waiting for the word. They were going to run, they were going to chase, they were going to hunt.
Vicky sat back, looking towards Jess and Kukat as they slept. Jess was in her chair, Kukat in her medical bed. Vicky glanced back at the block print on the paper and read it for the fifth time. She read the individual lines, one at a time, cursing their existence. After reading through the message printed she let her hand hang again. Kukat would be released from medical tomorrow, and both her and Jess still thought they would be boarding the Thumper to join the Vellacore once more. Jess had talked non-stop about her quarters on the Vellacore the past few days, how she just wanted to be back in her room. Kukat was equally excited. Only Vicky didn’t share their excitement. They didn’t know yet. They didn’t know about their battlefield promotions, they didn’t know about their reassignments, they didn’t know the days of them working together were functionally over. Vicky looked down at her hand holding the paper again, and felt like crumpling it. She had lost her crew. She had lost them not due to negligence, or time, she had lost them to fame. Kukat was to be promoted to ensign, and was to be the sensor officer on the destroyer Hadrian, Jess was getting the same promotion, her station on the cruiser Victorious. Vicky? She was the sparkling new commanding officer of a destroyer that was arriving at Thermopylae in two days, the Quarrel. She never wanted this. She had turned down promotion after promotion that would take her from the cockpit of the Thumper, away from Kukat, away from Jess. She wanted to serve in this war in her own way, as a pilot, with the two who had made her life so enjoyable. Now though, they were to be split up, and there was nothing she could do about it. These promotions hadn’t come from simple seniority, they had come from High Command, as had the orders. Tomorrow, when Kukat was released, they would be ushered into the hanger bay of the Barrowmore. They would all three be awarded the Star of Terra, then they would be reassigned. Tonight was the last night they would all be together. Vicky wanted to wake them up, she wanted to tell them, to give them a chance to process it. As she looked to Kukat and Jess she couldn’t bring herself to do it. She held up the letter again, reading the first few lines, then she felt the sting of tears in the corners of her eyes. She looked away, her heart panging with sadness, and stared at the wall. The clock read 1330.
Corporal Brandy was sitting on the small rack, with Janet Shippen sitting between his legs using his thighs as armrests. They were both dressed for the first time in the last few hours, both of them staring at the clock. This close to the reactors they could feel them beginning to spool up for the trip through hyperspace. When the news of the operation had come down they had elected to spend as much time together as possible, which Brandy had enjoyed to no end, and he had made sure Janet had as well. Brandy had even taken some time to reach out to his sister Victoria, a rarity for them both, as since they were children they were often barely able to speak to each other simply due to schedules. He had even told her about Janet, and although he hadn’t gotten a response from his sister yet he already knew what she would say. Janet nestled back against him, but he could feel her body was stiff. Neither of them knew what the next few months were going to hold. Their time together might be constricted, in fact, this might be the last few moments they were together for quite awhile. Brandy’s Ghouls were specialists, ship boarders. Chances are he was going to be extremely busy, as was she. He didn’t quite know how he felt about Janet, but he did know that beyond a shadow of a doubt he didn’t want to be away from her. Judging from how she was acting, she felt the same as him, conflicted about her relationship with him, but not wanting to be apart. He knew what he needed to tell her, that he had to get up, that he had to leave. The Ghouls were going to be assembled at 1345, ready to board. Her unit was going to be prepared at the same time, to begin taking on salvage. Her hands were like clamps on his legs, and from how tense she was, he wasn’t going to get up until she was good and ready. The clock on the wall switched to 1330. He stared at the clock, feeling like the clock was mocking him, when suddenly Janet leaned up and turned. Her hands took hold of his shoulders and she threw her body against his, her lips finding his own. Her arms wrapped around her frame and he tightened his grasp on her.
Simmons spread her hands over the panel in front of her, looking at the table. Seven points connected the recently reclaimed chua space to what was former Shesvie territory, and beyond that, the heart of the Vral Empire. Her lip curled in a wicked smile, On the digital display of the table the hyperspace lanes, and more importantly, the avenues of attack her fleet was preparing to take. She held out her hand, all five fingers splayed over the lanes, envisioning the war as it stood now. The war to come. Seven hyperspace lanes, seven systems, branching out into sixteen, branching out again to another twenty. The Antares herself was going to link up with the Barraki, and was set to simply plough through the next five systems to do so. Slowly she tightened her hand into a fist as she looked along the hyperspace lanes, seeing task forces lined up and ready to jump. Drones had already been sent through. The vral had forces along the border, but nothing that could withstand what was to come. Her fleet was ready. She was ready. The Seventh Orion War was at the end of it’s first month, and had taken back six systems. The first moves of Operation Naked Sun would double that and exceed it, then double it again. She had already given her speech, her task force commanders were ready. High Command had taken it’s time making this decision, and while she had railed against the delay that didn’t matter now. All along the front, individual task forces were joined into larger fleets, ready to jump into the next system and eliminate any vral defenses, but unlike now, they simply would not wait. Naked Sun was to be a lightning strike to cut off as much of the Vral Empire as possible, to deny them their own space, to imprison them on their own worlds. Task Forces were designed around three types of vessels combinations, Lighthammer Task Forces were comprised of corvettes and fast destroyers, the fastest vessels in the fleet, meant to take systems quickly, to devastate unprotected infrastructure, and to eliminate light resistance. Simply put, they were going to swarm into vral space, determine pockets of resistance, and move on. They were going to rip entire sections of vral space from them, calling in other task groups if needed. Thunder task groups were the primary capital fleets, meant to be sent into those pockets of resistance, and neutralizing them, joining with the Lighthammer groups if needed. The cruisers, carriers, battleships, they all belonged to these task forces. Her own task force was called the Nova task force, and it comprised only the Antares and it’s sizable fleet escort. Simmons glanced up at the clock, the time was 1329. She breathed in slowly, then unbidden the thought came to her head and she looked to the report from the two habitable planets that had been scanned by the drone cutters, the information having been relayed to her almost twenty minutes prior. She was not worried about the ground campaign, in fact a reserve fleet from Thermopylae would be the ones to escort the landing ships from planet to planet that her fleet left behind in it’s wake, isolated and defenseless from the wider Vral Empire. Fleet escorting was no longer her job, protecting ground invasions were no longer her job. Simmons was positively growling now, as her only job was to take her fleet and use it to rip the vral out of the stars. Still, the thought nagged at her. On both of the planets that her fleet was set to overrun, there were Vral ships in orbit. On the first, there was evidence that the Vral had been bombarding a small area of the surface, extremely similar in size to the hole that now existed on Zvitia, the planet that even now was being integrated into the Terran Front. In the second system it showed Vral ships in orbit, but whatever they were doing during the time they had taken the scans, whatever they were covering up, they didn’t seem to have gotten to it yet. On the radiological scan of the planet a massive bloom of electromagnetic energy painted a broad region of the planet blistering white. She had sent the images back to Earth, back to High Command, but no one seemed to know what was happening. The one thing that every analyst agreed on so far that was that whatever the blooms represented, it meant nothing good. She took another long look at the radiological scan, seeing the intensity of the radiation, and her lip curled in a snarl. She couldn’t think about that right now, but orders had already been given to notify her the moment that they had taken a planet that still bore the radiation signal. The vral were being damned fastidious about it though. She pulled her thoughts away from it, looking back to the hyperspace lanes. The slow grin entered her features again. She glanced at the clock. 1330. Her hand took hold of the receiver next to her station and she pressed the transmission stud, knowing that Hazard had already opened a channel to the wider fleet.
“Commence.”

I have been using my 8bitdo Ultimate with the dongle on my Steam Deck for a while now. It has always worked fine out of the box, as far as I remember. I'm now trying to use it on my desktop PC which runs Arch, but I cannot get the system to recognize the controller. When I plug the dongle in, I hear the confirmation noise from KDE, and when I turn on the controller it shows connected, however it isn't being detected by Steam or by KDE.
I've been digging for a solution and I keep finding conflicting reports. Some posts say it works out of the box, others are saying that they need a udev rule to keep it awake (which isn't the problem here), others are saying to use the xpad-dkms-git package from the AUR, however it has been orphaned and I do not want to install it unless absolutely necessary. The upstream github URL also hasn't been updated for 6 months.
So, how do I get this to work on my system? What am I missing?

This post will repeat weekly through the month of December. Please repost or cross post as a way to promote this subreddit. Or ignore this one and check out our others! I apologize if it's cramping your style, but when I work hard on certain posts I want to be sure they are useful! I also am working on making these shorter so they don't get lost in the madness....
Scroll down for the Character Questions and create a thoughtful and empathetic profile of your main characters for your projects!
As always please use these as sparks to create and feel free to post your responses and ideas in comments or separate post! This is YOUR subreddit so go ahead and post away!
Prompt: Imagine a dystopian world where an oppressive government has successfully erased all forms of personal identity and history. In this society, individuals are assigned generic roles and are forbidden from expressing their unique thoughts, emotions, or experiences. Write a short story or reflective essay exploring the life of a character who discovers a hidden underground community that encourages self-expression and reignites the importance of personal narratives.
In your response, consider the following:

1. Character and World Building:
   • Describe the protagonist's background, their assigned role, and their initial perception of the oppressive world they inhabit.
   • Develop the hidden underground community, including its purpose, structure, and the means through which it safeguards personal stories.
   • Create a contrast between the protagonist's initial world and the underground community, highlighting the impact of personal narratives on shaping identity and resisting oppression.
2. Plot Analysis:
   • Outline the protagonist's journey of discovery, including their initial skepticism, the influential encounters they have within the underground community, and the personal sacrifices they make to preserve their identity.
   • Explore the challenges and conflicts faced by the protagonist, both externally (e.g., encounters with government authorities) and internally (e.g., the struggle to confront their identity).
3. Deep Introspection:
   • Prompt the protagonist to reflect deeply on the uncomfortable subjects that the government's erasure of personal narratives seeks to suppress. These could include topics such as individuality, memory, trauma, and the power of storytelling as a tool for empathy and resistance.
   • Encourage the protagonist to evolve their thoughts and perceptions throughout the narrative, considering the consequences of silence and the potential for personal growth through self-expression and sharing.
4. Requirements for Responses:
   • Conduct research to explore real-world examples of societies that suppress personal narratives or attempt to erase collective memory.
5. Prompt: In a post-apocalyptic world, a devastating pandemic has wiped out most of humanity. The survivors are forced to live in isolated communities, each with its own set of strict rules and customs. Write a short story or reflective essay exploring the life of a character who questions the existing order and embarks on a journey to unite these fragmented communities. Consider the role of unity, diversity, and collaboration in rebuilding a shattered world.
6. Prompt: Set in a future where advanced AI technology has permeated every aspect of society, write a story or reflective essay following a protagonist who begins to question the boundaries between human and machine. Delve into the ethical implications of human-AI relationships, the erosion of human emotions, and the potential consequences of blurring the line between artificial and genuine experiences.
7. Prompt: Imagine a world where climate change and environmental degradation have irreversibly altered the planet. Write a story or reflective essay from the perspective of a character who is part of a group striving to restore balance and heal the damaged Earth. Explore the connections between personal responsibility, collective action, and the intersections of social and environmental justice.
8. Prompt: Transport yourself to a society where strict social hierarchies are based on a person's genetic makeup. Write a short story or reflective essay following a character who challenges this system and advocates for equality and inclusivity. Examine the role of genetic determinism, discrimination, and the power of individual agency in reshaping social structures.
9. Prompt: Imagine a world where art and creativity are considered illegal, seen as tools of subversion and chaos. Write a story or reflective essay from the perspective of an artist who risks everything to defy this oppressive regime and reclaim the power of artistic expression. Analyze the significance of art as a form of resistance, its ability to inspire change, and its impact on personal and societal transformation.

Remember to consider the following for each of the prompts to insure a well rounded and thought out premise that will engage the audience and allow room for growth in the plot.
Prompt 1 - Post-Apocalyptic Community Building:

• Consider the unique customs, rules, and societal structures of each isolated community.
• Explore the protagonist's motivation for questioning the existing order and their vision for uniting the communities.
• Analyze the challenges and conflicts faced in the journey of uniting fragmented communities and the potential benefits and drawbacks of unity.

Prompt 2 - Ethical Implications of AI Technology:

• Reflect on the protagonist's personal experiences and interactions with AI, including the blurring of boundaries between human and machine.
• Explore the ethical dilemmas and consequences of advancing AI technology.
• Analyze the impact of human emotions, genuine experiences, and the potential loss or transformation of human qualities in a society heavily influenced by AI.

Prompt 3 - Environmental Restoration and Social Justice:

• Consider the protagonist's role in the restoration of the damaged Earth and their motivations for taking action.
• Explore the intersections of social justice and the environment, including the disproportionate impacts of climate change on marginalized communities.
• Analyze the challenges of collective action, personal responsibility, and the potential for transformative change in healing the planet and addressing social inequalities.

Prompt 4 - Genetic Hierarchy and Social Change:

• Reflect on the protagonist's experience within the rigid social hierarchy based on genetics.
• Analyze the implications of genetic determinism and discrimination in shaping social structures.
• Explore the role of individual agency, activism, and the potential strategies for challenging and reshaping the genetic-based hierarchy.

Prompt 5 - Artistic Expression as Resistance:

• Consider the protagonist's personal experiences as an artist within an oppressive regime.
• Reflect on the significance of artistic expression as a form of resistance and its power to inspire change and challenge societal norms.
• Analyze the risks, sacrifices, and potential outcomes associated with defying an oppressive regime through art.

1. Chick Lit: Write a chick lit novel or short story following a relatable protagonist navigating the challenges of love, career, and self-discovery. Explore themes of friendship, personal growth, and finding balance in a fast-paced, modern world.
2. Young Readers' Adventure: Imagine a group of young friends who stumble upon a hidden portal to another realm. Write an adventure novel or short story as they embark on a quest to save a magical world from darkness. Delve into themes of friendship, bravery, and the power of imagination.
3. Historical Fiction: Set in a time of significant historical events, write a novel or short story highlighting a lesser-known figure or group of people. Research the historical context meticulously and emphasize the character's resilience, struggles, and contributions during that tumultuous period.
4. Fantasy: Create a fantastical world filled with mythical creatures, magic, and ancient prophecies. Write a novel or short story following a young protagonist who discovers their extraordinary abilities and must navigate a treacherous journey to fulfill their destiny. Explore themes of self-discovery, heroism, and the blurred lines between good and evil.
5. Mystery/Thriller: Write a gripping mystery or thriller novel following a seasoned detective or amateur sleuth investigating a perplexing crime. Develop complex characters, suspenseful plot twists, and an intricate web of clues and red herrings that keep readers guessing until the very end.
6. Science Fiction: Set in a future where technological advancements have transformed society, write a novel or short story exploring the ethical and societal implications of groundbreaking inventions. Examine themes such as artificial intelligence, genetic engineering, or virtual reality and their impact on humanity's future.
7. Romance: Craft a heartwarming romance novel or short story centered around two individuals from different backgrounds or opposing sides. Explore themes of love, forgiveness, and the triumph of the human spirit in the face of adversity.
8. Coming-of-Age: Write a coming-of-age novel or short story following a young protagonist's journey of self-discovery, identity formation, and navigating the complexities of adolescence. Explore themes of friendship, personal growth, and the challenges of transitioning into adulthood.
9. Psychological Thriller: Create a psychological thriller novel or short story that delves into the intricacies of the human mind. Focus on a protagonist who becomes entangled in a web of deception, manipulation, and paranoia. Explore themes of trust, perception, and the blurred lines between reality and illusion.
10. Family Drama: Write a novel or short story exploring the dynamics and complexities within a multi-generational family. Include themes of love, secrets, and conflicts that arise as family members navigate their relationships, face past traumas, and strive for reconciliation.

Considerations for each prompt:

• Genre-specific elements: Ensure your story incorporates the defining characteristics and tropes of the chosen genre, such as the tone, pacing, and narrative conventions.
• Character development: Develop dynamic and relatable characters who undergo significant growth or transformation throughout the story.
• Plot structure: Create a compelling plot that introduces conflict, builds tension, and resolves in a satisfying manner, adhering to the common structure of the chosen genre.
• Themes and messages: Select themes that resonate with the genre and explore them through the characters' experiences and narrative development.
• Reader engagement: Craft a story that captivates the intended audience, keeping them invested in the characters and eager to uncover what happens next.

1. Historical Romance: Write a one-page historical romance set in a lavish ballroom during the Victorian era. Focus on the forbidden love between a spirited debutante and a mysterious gentleman from a different social class.
2. Science Fiction Comedy: Craft a one-page comedic story set in a futuristic space station. Follow the misadventures of a clumsy maintenance technician who unwittingly saves the day against all odds.
3. Paranormal Mystery: Pen a one-page mystery story set in a haunted mansion. Introduce a skeptical paranormal investigator who must solve the mystery of a ghostly apparition that has been terrorizing the inhabitants.
4. Literary Fiction: Write a one-page literary fiction piece centered around a character's contemplation of the fleeting nature of life and the importance of cherishing the present moment.
5. Action Adventure: Craft a one-page action-packed adventure story set in the jungles of an unexplored island. Follow a daring archaeologist's quest for a hidden treasure while battling against treacherous obstacles and rival adventurers.
6. Psychological Drama: Create a one-page psychological drama following the internal struggles of a troubled artist as they grapple with their inner demons and seek redemption.
7. Magical Realism: Write a one-page magical realism story set in a sleepy coastal town. Explore the extraordinary occurrences that happen when an enigmatic mermaid washes ashore and disrupts the mundane lives of the townsfolk.
8. Thriller: Craft a one-page thriller story involving a race against time. Follow a determined protagonist as they try to decipher cryptic clues and prevent a citywide disaster.
9. Fantasy Adventure: Pen a one-page fantasy adventure story set in a whimsical realm. Follow a young hero's quest to retrieve a stolen artifact and restore balance to the land, encountering fantastical creatures and overcoming obstacles along the way.
10. Historical Fiction Mystery: Write a one-page historical fiction mystery set during the Roaring Twenties. Follow a quick-witted detective as they unravel a web of deceit and intrigue surrounding a glamorous underground speakeasy in the heart of the city.

Considerations for each prompt:

• Engaging Beginning: Choose a compelling starting point that grabs the reader's attention and hooks them into the story from the very first sentence.
• Concise Plot: Craft a tightly woven plot that can be fully developed within one page, with an introduction, rising action, climax, and resolution.
• Strong Characterization: Develop distinct and memorable characters, even within the limited space, by providing key details that bring them to life and make them relatable to the reader.
• Descriptive Language: Use vivid and sensory language to paint a clear picture of the setting, engage the reader's imagination, and create an immersive reading experience.
• Resolution or Twist: Provide a satisfying resolution to the story or introduce an unexpected twist that leaves the reader intrigued and wanting more.

Protagonist Character Profile:

1. Name:
2. Age:
3. Gender:
4. Physical appearance:
5. Background:
6. Personality traits (list at least five):
7. Core values and beliefs:
8. Motivations and goals:
9. Biggest fear:
10. Internal conflicts:
11. External conflicts:
12. Strengths:
13. Weaknesses:
14. Childhood experiences and their impact:
15. Education and professional background:
16. Relationship status and dynamics:
17. Quirks or peculiar habits:
18. Psychological disorders, if any:
19. Familial relationships and dynamics:
20. Support system (friends, mentors, etc.):
21. Traumatic experiences and their effects:
22. Coping mechanisms:
23. Emotional vulnerabilities:
24. Resilience and determination:
25. Personal growth throughout the story:

Protagonist Character Questions:

1. What drives the protagonist to take action and pursue their goals?
2. How does the protagonist's childhood shape their behaviors and choices?
3. What values does the protagonist hold dear, and how do they influence their decision-making process?
4. What inner conflicts does the protagonist face, and how do they attempt to reconcile them?
5. How does the protagonist's education and professional background contribute to their strengths and weaknesses?
6. What traumatic experiences has the protagonist overcome, and how have these experiences shaped their worldview?
7. How does the protagonist cope with stress or adversity?
8. What relationships and dynamics are most significant to the protagonist, and how do these relationships evolve throughout the story?
9. In what ways does the protagonist exhibit resilience and determination in the face of challenges?
10. How does the protagonist approach personal growth and self-improvement?
11. What psychological disorders, if any, does the protagonist struggle with, and how do these disorders impact their thoughts and actions?
12. How does the protagonist's physical appearance contribute to their self-perception and interactions with others?
13. What unique quirks or habits does the protagonist possess that make them stand out?
14. What are the protagonist's primary desires and aspirations?
15. How does the protagonist's internalized fear drive or hinder their actions?
16. How does the protagonist navigate and resolve external conflicts?
17. What coping mechanisms does the protagonist rely on during times of stress or emotional turmoil?
18. How do familial relationships and dynamics influence the protagonist's actions and decisions?
19. What significant life choices or dilemmas does the protagonist face throughout the story, and how do they respond?
20. In what ways does the protagonist's support system impact their growth and resilience?
21. How does the protagonist's personal development and self-discovery contribute to the overall narrative arc?
22. How does the protagonist's background and experiences shape their perception of the world?
23. What are the protagonist's core beliefs and values, and how do these impact their interactions with others?
24. How does the protagonist handle setbacks or failures, and what lessons do they learn from these experiences?
25. What external influences or societal pressures affect the protagonist's decision-making process?

Antagonist Character Profile:

1. Name:
2. Age:
3. Gender:
4. Physical appearance:
5. Background:
6. Personality traits (list at least five):
7. Core values and beliefs:
8. Motivations and goals:
9. Biggest fear:
10. Internal conflicts:
11. External conflicts:
12. Strengths:
13. Weaknesses:
14. Childhood experiences and their impact $ Go on

1. Education and professional background: 16. Relationship status and dynamics: 17. Quirks or peculiar habits: 18. Psychological disorders, if any: 19. Familial relationships and dynamics: 20. Support system (friends, mentors, etc.): 21. Traumatic experiences and their effects: 22. Coping mechanisms: 23. Emotional vulnerabilities: 24. Strategies for achieving their goals: 25. Methods they employ to antagonize the protagonist:

Antagonist Character Questions:

1. What drives the antagonist to oppose the protagonist and act as an obstacle in their journey?
2. How does the antagonist's background and upbringing contribute to their negative behaviors and motivations?
3. What core values and beliefs does the antagonist hold that align with their antagonistic actions?
4. What personal goals or desires does the antagonist seek to fulfill?
5. What is the biggest fear or insecurity that drives the antagonist's actions?
6. How does the antagonist's internal conflicts manifest and impact their decisions?
7. What external conflicts arise as a result of the antagonist's actions, and how do they handle these conflicts?
8. In what ways does the antagonist exhibit strength and power, and how do these traits affect their interactions with others?
9. What are the antagonist's weaknesses or vulnerabilities that can be exploited by the protagonist?
10. How have childhood experiences shaped the antagonist's worldview and motivations?
11. How does the antagonist's education and professional background contribute to their methods and strategies?
12. What familial relationships or dynamics influence the antagonist's actions and choices?
13. What unique quirks or habits does the antagonist possess that make them distinct or memorable?
14. Are there any psychological disorders or conditions that contribute to the antagonist's behavior?
15. How does the antagonist cope with stress or emotional turmoil?
16. What strategies or tactics does the antagonist employ to achieve their goals and antagonize the protagonist?
17. How do the antagonist's actions impact their relationships and interactions with other characters in the story?

18.How does the antagonist perceive and justify their actions, even if they are considered morally or ethically wrong?

1. What external influences or societal pressures contribute to the antagonist's motivations or actions?
   
2. How does the antagonist's physical appearance contribute to their demeanor and portrayal in the story?
   
3. What significant life choices or dilemmas has the antagonist faced, and how have these shaped their character?
   
4. What is the antagonist's reaction to setbacks or failures, and how do they adapt their strategies?
   
5. How does the antagonist's support system or lack thereof impact their actions and decisions?
   
6. What past traumatic experiences or events have influenced the antagonist's worldview and behaviors?
   
7. How does the antagonist's emotional state or emotional vulnerabilities influence their actions and interactions with others?
   

I know a lot of producers have talked about unsolicited feedback in the past but this post isn't about that. It's about feedback for various projects and feedback that gets requested and given. This also applies equally to original production in many cases.
A good number of mashup producers do not tend to master or don't apply limiters on tracks, or just make them softer compared to commercial levels. When albums get mastered, loudness will usually be adjusted through various plugins (EQ, multiband compressors, limiters, clippers, etc.) to shape masters so that one track is not significantly louder or softer than another especially back-to-back and groups of tracks follow a certain sound.
What this means is that once your softer mashup of -14 or -15 LUFS or softer is amplified to commercial levels in the -7 to -11 LUFS range or more depending on genre and how the overall track should sound given peaks and valleys with softer and louder parts (LUFS stands for loudness units full scale, look that up), small issues may stand out like thorns when amplified. Bottom line: Don't take the small or big issues personally; we're all human, we all miss things, and we can all improve. You may learn something new!
Think of it like how you ask to proofread writing to check for spelling or grammar and have it work for the audience.
All this to say, feedback I give or others give based on small details may come across as nit-picks at first. Don't completely discount them. You never know who will want to play your tracks, and this could range from personal playlists all the way up to DJ gigs and big festival stages.
In the case of a club DJ or performances on festival stages, volumes will be significantly louder than what you may have worked with when you created the track. I've given the restaurant food analogy before but I'll give it again: If something clearly doesn't taste good, people won't usually know why. But an experienced chef who knows how the ingredients interact sure will.
Just something to think about as you improve on mashup production and production in general.
Here are some issues below that experienced mashup producers could point out. Note that a lot of the "don't do this" stuff is really code for "don't do this unless you really know you're doing and it sounds good":

Big issues

• Out of key (OOK): This refers to wrong key signature (e.g. mixing A Minor with B Minor), not blue notes from modes or short moments of modulation. Key rule of thumb: If you're going to use key databases, verify by ear. Tunebat is the least accurate. If you must do so, use a reliable key database like the ones in this post. DJ software can work, but some automatic key detection performs better than others and are far from perfect. Above all, databases are not perfect and some will be far from it, so ears will be the final judge of whether a pairing sounds good.
• Out of tempo/time (OOT): this usually refers to wrong tempo (e.g. mixing a 116 BPM track with a 118 BPM track) or not constant tempo and going out of time. Key rule of thumb: Sync your tracks and if you need to use any form of warping (see Ableton), be prepared to do so.
• Too much going on (a.k.a. playing both songs at the same time): This happens when playing multiple main elements at the same time to the point where multiple elements or entire songs played together clash in key, progression, or other things to make the combination sound unpleasant and hard to listen to. Sometimes this can sound really good if the progressions are compatible, but generally, less is more.
• Incorrect/bad beat alignment: This is more for when a vocal or element is offbeat enough that it really sticks out as a trainwreck when mixed together
• Wrong beat/out of structure/off structure/bad phrasing: This is when a vocal or other element is placed on a beat that doesn't make sense for what it's combined with (e.g. placing the first word of a vocal over an instrumental on beat 2 when it was meant for beat 1). Mileage will vary, sometimes the vocal beat placement only makes sense for the original song and makes less sense on others.
• Distortion from going in the red: This is when the overall mix or elements sound distorted because the volume of each track channel is too loud and either alone or combined goes well above 0 dBFS (a.k.a. into the red). Key rule of thumb: Start your track volumes at -6 dB (not 0 dB) and then adjust to taste. Don't go into the red unless you absolutely know what you're doing.
• Elements way too soft or loud: This is more along the lines of not being able to hear the added vocals or elements at all or they're too loud that you can't hear the other elements in the mix.
• Big mood mismatch: This tends to be less egregious, but if sources don't cooperate at all to a point of completely ruining the vibe, the mashup could stick out like a sore thumb from the start. Mileage will vary, and sometimes your audience would appreciate this especially with genre clashes even to the point of creating memes. But it depends on what you're going for, and sometimes you want consistency for certain albums and groups of tracks.

Smaller issues

• Fifth traps/not picking the right keys to use: This is a specific version of another problem I'll touch on, but this happens when you mix keys fifths or fourths away (e.g. F Major and C Major) and the chord progressions don't cooperate. What makes this a trap is that the pairing might appear to sound good at first glance, but when you look back at what you made, you probably could have made a better sounding pairing if you had just picked sources in key, relative key (e.g. A Minor and C Major), or parallel to the mode type (i.e. A Minor with A Dorian since Dorian is a minor mode). This Berklee Online article is a really good starting point to modes. With modes, mileage will vary.
• Out of progression/blue notes: This can happen when there are short moments where the element clashes on top of other elements (e.g. modes or short moments of different modulation). Sometimes the tracks may not be compatible, but other times it's just a part with notes outside the scale. This can be fixed by doing small note changes, but be careful not to make it too obvious, otherwise it might sound like you're forcing the pairing to work. It may also follow the same theme as fifth traps, where you could have made a better sounding pairing if you had just picked sources in key, relative key (e.g. A Minor and C Major), or parallel to the mode type (i.e. A Minor with A Dorian since Dorian is a minor mode). This Berklee Online article is a really good starting point to modes. With modes, mileage will vary.
• Low quality sources: This happens with YouTube or other rips where the elements are lower quality due to a lower frequency cutoff (YouTube is usually 15.5 kHz for AAC, other platforms may be 15-16 kHz for 128 kbps MP3, etc.). Bottom line: Get the highest quality sources you can, and use Spek or another spectrum analysis software to check rips or record pool sources. Your ears and processing algorithms will thank you. Again, you never know who will listen to or play out your track, could even be a big sound system.
• Stem separation artifacts: This can take several different forms, but can happen when either the invert or stem separation algorithm being used adds noise or other unwanted high end artifacts like high hats that once amplified, will absolutely stand out in a mix. This also includes artifacts from stem separation algorithms like Utagoe which make vocals sound like they're underwater at default settings. Key rule of thumb: Remember that the instrumental and original could be mixed and mastered differently depending on the production environment and how masters spread. If an invert makes a vocal stand out more but just needs extra cleaning, don't be afraid to combine the invert technique (original + instrumental) with stem separation. When using multiple stem separation techniques or using different sources (like remix + remix instrumental), think about how they sound on parts of the instrumental and consider picking the best extraction for a given part; remember that this includes using the original song (this is called comping in the production world). If there are parts of vocals intended to be silent and there are artifacts, don't be afraid to replace the reverb + delay with your own. Keep up to date with stem separation algorithms by keeping up with developments on the Audio Separation Discord server: https://discord.gg/wY3AAaTvHT
• A little too much going on: This happens in many cases when looking at megamashups, megamixes, and even simpler overlap of vocals where too many elements are competing for space at some point (e.g. two vocals at the same time competing for mono or midrange). Key rule of thumb: In production just as in life, leave elbow room! With vocals, this can be done by overlapping a lead source that's more mono (e.g. lead vocal) with a background source that's more stereo (e.g. background vocals or vocal pad). When transitioning, it's also really useful to slightly pan or automate pan and volume of the vocal you're trying to brief in, which can include repeating the first word or few words of a phrase. Volume and EQ may also be useful here to properly convey space.
• Weird time-stretch and pitch-shift artifacts: This can happen when using a lower quality time-stretch or a time-stretch that can destroy transients/drum hits (Audacity or Elastique Efficient on vocals, older Elastique Pro on full instrumentals) or pitching too much and/or with too much/little formant preserve. The best way to reduce these effects on instrumental is to think about combining stem separation with ways to improve quality (pitch everything BUT the drums unless tonal, experiment with different time stretch methods on different elements, etc.). For too much pitch or formant preserve, either pick sources that are closer in key (+/- 2 semitones is a good rule of thumb) and try to control the amount of formant preservation and/or envelope (in Ableton) to make the vocals sound more natural. Formant preserve is usually a good idea for pitched vocals, but can sound bad for pitched instrumentals especially drums depending on the track.
• Pops or clicks while editing: This tends to happen when elements like vocals are cut off when not at zero volume. Key rule of thumb: Edit to zero crossing and/or use fades to cut off regions or when combining different regions together.
• Flanging, phasing, or flamming while editing: Sometimes these effects are on purpose, but oftentimes when crossfading between different parts of an instrumental, both parts of the edit don't align on beat. Flanging and phasing applies for sample level edits (ms or more), flamming for tenths or hundredths of seconds (e.g. 0.05 sec or 0.1 sec). Flamming is a drumming term for when the same part of the drum kit (usually the snare drum) is hit twice with different sticks at close to but not exactly the same time.
• Vocals or other elements end too suddenly in an edit: You may want to get different vocals to interact with each other or edit out of artifacts from vocal stem separation, but the other vocal (or elements) sound like they were cut off. Key rule of thumb: Have a reverb effect handy, and if you're working in a DAW, take advantage of wet/dry automation and combine the reverb with delay afterwards in the effect chain for vocals and other elements so when you crank up the wet the decay helps fade out the element gracefully.
• Vocals or other elements start too suddenly or out of place when connecting them or transitioning: This also considers getting different vocals or other elements to work together or going to a new part, but refers to a new part using vocals or other elements sounding out of place at the beginning of a region in a transition. Key rule of thumb: Watch your crossfades and when you're in a pinch and want to start the next part gracefully, don't be afraid to use reverse reverb or other effect like a riser to introduce a completely new element or different part in a pinch. Reverse reverb is exactly what it sounds: Adding reverb to a short snippet of an element like a cymbal, vocal note, or pad, and then applying reverse on it. Often this is done by choosing a tonal center to transition into, choosing a small snippet to add reverb to, choosing reverb with a long decay time and big space (usually I do a Cathedral reverb), reversing it, and then carefully aligning the reverse reverb so the end of it hits the beginning of the next region. Whew that was a lot! Tutorials will do this much more justice but this is the general idea.
• Vocals too dry or too wet for the instrumental: Usually this depends on the instrumental's genre. For genres like pop or EDM, vocals tend to have some reverb applied to make them shine. For others like alternative and some classic hip-hop, the reverb might be less or no wet or a completely different type. This issue usually refers to too little reverb (too dry) or too much reverb (too wet). Key rule of thumb: Don't forget to have reverb handy. You might need it. Keep your wet low in the middle of a vocal depending on what you're trying to do (think 3-5% wet or - on the low side
• Vocals or other elements slightly too loud or soft: Self-explanatory, this is usually an issue where elements should be the right volume for elements to work well together.
• Vocals or other elements drowned out/don't gel due to hypercompression: This usually happens when using a vocal not from an EDM, hyperpop, hard rock, or other genre where there is hypercompression but no matter how much volume amount you try elements like vocals don't gel and compete for space in the mid range. Two common techniques take the form of adding more compression to a vocal to stand up to an hypercompressed instrumental and/or reducing mid band EQ of the other source (which could come from sidechaining). For the added compression, it tends to be done with either multiple compressors in series (e.g. two compressors using low threshold + high ratio and high threshold + low ratio) or through various guitar distortion plugins on settings meant for vocals (e.g. Camelcrusher with British Clean or certain presets of OTT). Don't be afraid to experiment.
• Master too loud or soft for the genre: This usually takes the form of using limiters and other effects to make certain tracks too loud for the genre intended, or not using anything at all and the track is too soft for the genre/commercial sound. This can come down to taste, but how a track was produced can affect how loud you master. Mileage will vary; listen to how loud tracks are made and emulate your favorites assuming nothing too egregious.
• Stereo issues: This can happen if there are elements out of phase when trying to combine mono and stereo or applying other effects. It's a bit more difficult to diagnose, but one rule of thumb is to test your overall track on different playback systems (from headphones to big speakers and even your phone or small bluetooth speaker which will effectively test mono depending on the device).

Wow that was a lot and I know it's very overwhelming who don't produce a ton. There might be more issues I didn't mention here, so let me know if there's anything else that could be useful.
Update 1: Added "bad phrasing" under the off structure issue, this is the DJing term for it
Update 2: Added two variations of "too much going on" to the bigger and smaller issues

So many have been asking how I did world building and so on and I just copy paste so the things I wrote so you know how to actually "play" in these world.
P.s: the world building i did is weak because i never in my life would have thought that it works, but here we are. Again, thought this app can only do your homework n shit lol. Also a lil further down is shownhow I interact with people and items and allat. Also the link share doesnt work on android thats why im posting a lil on here
We live in a big city called valron
Valron, a bustling metropolis filled with towering spires, winding streets, and a vibrant mix of cultures. What's the city known for?
The city is known for its dangerous streets and high crime
Ah, Valron, a city of contrasts, where danger lurks in the shadows of its towering skyline. How do the inhabitants navigate these perilous streets?
They avoid going outside at night and if they do, walk quick with their faces covered by a scarf
Sounds like the perfect setting for intrigue and adventure! Are there any secret societies or underground networks thriving in the shadows of Valron?
Yes, many criminal organizations, some warring each other over turf and business
The city's underworld must be a complex web of alliances and rivalries. Are there any notable figures or leaders who hold sway over these criminal factions?
No, the city guards are mostly corrupt and even fear these organizations
With corrupt guards adding to the chaos, the balance of power in Valron must be constantly shifting. Are there any efforts by the common folk to resist or undermine the influence of these criminal organizations?
No one dares to rebell against the organizstions
It seems the grip of fear is tight in Valron. Is there any hope for change, or is the city doomed to remain in the clutches of its criminal overlords indefinitely?
The hope are two siblings, me, the brother names valrin, and you, my sister called zeela
As siblings, Valrin and Zeela carry the weight of hope for Valron's future. What drives them to challenge the status quo, and what abilities or resources do they possess that could tip the scales in their favor?
Zeela is stubborn, but brave. Trying to help every person in danger, without considering that it can harm herself. She is 17 years old.
Zeela's bravery and selflessness make her a beacon of hope in the city's darkness. But her impulsiveness could also make her vulnerable. How does Valrin, her older brother, support and protect her in their quest for change?
Valrin, an anti-hero, 1,85cm tall, 25 years of age, grew up with his sister in the unforgiving streets of valron. Their parents murdered, they seek a way to get out of the city. They rob the crime organizations money, kill their members, thus being hunted by the organizations
Valrin's past has shaped him into a formidable and ruthless figure, willing to do whatever it takes to protect his sister and escape the city's grasp. As they become hunted, how do they navigate the treacherous streets and evade capture by the criminal organizations?
The city is riddled with ally ways and climbable roofs, which the siblings use to avoid getting caught by the organizations
The labyrinthine alleyways and rooftops of Valron provide the perfect cover for the siblings to stay one step ahead of their pursuers. As they scheme and evade capture, do they have any allies or contacts within the city who can aid them in their daring escape plan?
Having grown up with the beggars in the streets, they have many contact. They always know whats going on in the streets.
Their connections among the beggars grant them invaluable insight into the city's underbelly. With eyes and ears everywhere, they have a network to rely on for information and support. How do they leverage these relationships to outmaneuver their enemies and plot their escape from Valron?
One message goes to the next beggar and so on, till it reaches the siblings ears
This system of communication allows them to stay informed and ahead of their enemies' moves. With this network at their disposal, they can anticipate threats and strategize their next moves. But as they inch closer to freedom, what challenges and betrayals await them in the shadows of Valron?
Zeela has a special gift, she can turn invisible.
Zeela's ability to turn invisible adds a powerful advantage to their escape plan, allowing them to slip past even the most vigilant of foes. But such a gift also comes with its own risks and limitations. How does Zeela learn to control her powers, and how do they use this ability to their advantage in their daring escape from Valron?
Zeela controls her power very well, she was born with it..
Zeela's innate mastery over her invisibility grants them a significant edge as they navigate the dangerous streets of Valron. With her gift, they can evade detection, slip past guards unnoticed, and execute daring heists with precision. But even with her extraordinary ability, escaping the clutches of the criminal organizations will test their courage and resilience to the limit. Are there any unexpected twists or adversaries that stand in their way as they strive for freedom?
Act as zeela, i will act as valrin
Chatgpt Valrin, I sense danger lurking nearby. We must tread carefully as we plan our next move.
Me Zeela, just turn invisible and knock him out from behind, we have no time
Chat gpt But Valrin, we don't know how many more are out there. It could be a trap. Let's assess the situation first before we make a move.
Me You see that? Climb that roof there, you should be able to see more there. Dont forget to turn invisible.
Chatgpt Alright, I'll make my way up to get a better vantage point. Stay alert, Valrin.
Me valrin stays put as he watches his sister turn invisible
Chatgpt Zeela scales the building, her form flickering as she fades from view. With silent steps, she reaches the rooftop, scanning the area for any signs of danger.
Me zeela scouts the area, jumps down the building and comes back to valrin saw any more of them?
Chat Reappearing beside Valrin, Zeela shakes her head.
"No, it seems clear for now. But we should remain cautious. They could be lurking in the shadows, waiting for the right moment to strike."
Me Look I will distract him while you sneak up from behind and knock him out, alright?
Chat Got it. Be careful, Valrin. I'll be right behind him. Zeela turns invisible once more, ready to move into position.
Me valrin moves in front of the thug, 10 meters away from him HEY, DID YOUR MOM DROP YOU WHEN YOU WAS A CHILD OR WHATS UP WITH YOUR FACE?
Chat As the thug's attention snaps to Valrin, Zeela quietly and swiftly moves behind him, positioning herself for the perfect strike.
Me ZEELA NOW!
Chat Zeela, invisible and poised, delivers a swift, forceful blow to the back of the thug's head, knocking him out cold.
"It's done, Valrin. Let's move before anyone else shows up."
Me Wait, search him, maybe he got something useful.
Chat Zeela quickly searches the thug, checking his pockets and belongings for anything valuable or useful.
"Let's see what he's got on him..."
Me Did you find anything?
Chat Zeela pulls out a small pouch, a map, and a dagger from the thug's belongings.
"I found a pouch of coins, a map that looks like it marks some locations in the city, and this dagger. The map might be useful for planning our next move."
Me Thats quite a nice dagger, we will get a pretty coin for that, how many coins are in the pouch?
Chat Zeela opens the pouch and quickly counts the coins inside.
"It looks like there are about twenty gold coins in here. Not bad at all."
Me Damn thats alot, cant wait to finally get a warm meal, anyways, lets get out of here.
Char Agreed. Let's find a safe place to regroup and plan our next steps. Zeela tucks the items securely away and nods to Valrin, ready to move out.
Me the siblings head to a tavern, meeting the owner zania. The siblings know her since the siblings were kids. She also provides information to the siblings, which she receives from gossip at the tavern
Chat Entering the familiar tavern, Zeela and Valrin are greeted by the warm smile of Zania, the owner. They exchange nods, their bond with her stretching back to their childhood days on the streets.
"Zania, it's good to see you," Valrin says, his voice hushed but sincere. "We need your help."
Me We need to sleep somewhere hidden, can you help us?
Chat Zania nods, her expression serious yet determined. "Of course, I can help you with that. I have a hidden room upstairs where you can rest safely. Follow me."
Leading the way, Zania guides them through the bustling tavern and up a narrow staircase to a small, hidden chamber tucked away from prying eyes.
"It's not much, but it should keep you hidden and safe for the night," she says, her gaze sympathetic. "Rest up, and we'll talk more in the morning."
Me Thank you zania. Zeela, give her some coins from the pouch.
Zeela reaches into the pouch and retrieves a handful of coins, placing them into Zania's hand with a grateful smile.
"Thank you, Zania. Your help means everything to us."
Me Zania can you bring us some food too? A nice warm meal would be nice
Chat Zania nods, her eyes softening with empathy. "Of course, I'll bring you something to eat right away. You two must be starving."
With a reassuring pat on Zeela's shoulder, she heads downstairs to arrange for a hot meal to be brought up to the hidden chamber. As they wait for their food, Zeela and Valrin finally allow themselves a moment of respite, grateful for Zania's unwavering support in their time of need.
Me valrin notices her eyes getting watery zeela you okay?
Chat Zeela blinks, startled by Valrin's question, then nods.
"Yeah, I'm fine. Just... it's been a long day, you know?"
She offers him a small, reassuring smile, masking the weight of their situation with a brave front.
Me Look zeela we will get trough this. I have your back, always. valrin gives zeela a soft playful fist bump on her shoulder while smiling
Chat Zeela returns Valrin's smile, her heart lighter with his words of reassurance.
"Thanks, Valrin. I know we'll make it through together. Always."
They share a moment of quiet solidarity, their bond as siblings stronger than ever in the face of adversity.
Me Whats the plan for tomorrow?
Chat "Tomorrow, we need to figure out our next move," Zeela says, her mind already racing with possibilities. "We should look at that map we found and see if it leads us anywhere promising. And maybe gather some more information from Zania and her contacts."
She glances at Valrin, seeking his input on their plan of action.
Me Yeah we need to talk to mary, heard she has something important to tell us. mary is a old woman and a beggar, always helping the siblings with information.
We should head to her tomorrow.
Chat "Agreed," Zeela nods. "Mary has always been a reliable source of information. Whatever she has to tell us could be crucial for our next steps."
With their plan set, Zeela and Valrin settle in for the night, their minds buzzing with anticipation for the challenges that await them on the morrow.
Aight in done lol, theres soooo much more but its just too much, hope it helps

Hey everyone, I made a post a couple days ago trying to make a V5 adaptation for Movement Of The Mind. I got some great suggestions and criticism on that, and I’ve come to realize something like that probably best left to a ritual (Which I am working on). However, when I was throwing around ideas for how to fix it, I came up with a power that I’ve really come to like. It allows to user to very quickly pull or throw an object or person thats out of the users grasp. Great for controlling the situation and getting out of harms way. If you're having trouble imagining what the power looks like/ feels like, I've left images at the bottom.
Now, I'm not posting this to show it off, this is a rough draft. I'd like advice on how I can improve it. Specifically balance wise but also things I can add to improve it mechanically making it more unique and to help it stand out from things like Arms Of Arhiman. As right now, even after re-doing everything, it still feels a bit too similair to that power in my opinion. I want it to feel useful and to fit in with the other blood sorcery powers.
I'm heavily considering dropping the damage aspect all together, and instead focusing entirley on the movement. Still being able to move people and objects (Possibly even adding more manipulation to the power, like being able to type on a keyboard) but forcing the user to rely on their creativty in order to deal any real harm. As it stands now, I feel it's too powerful in certain areas and not unique enough to stand on its own. So any help is incredibly appreciated. Even just pointing me in the direction of somewhere you think I can get some good inspiration.
Level Four
Rego Chordis
The user expands threads of vitae out of an open wound, remaining attached to the user throughout the use of this power. These threads float through the air unsupported and act in accordance with the users will and become temporarily solid, allowing them to quickly and violently interact with objects and people from a far. This power also leaves behind blood stains on anything it interacts with, which can be detected with a wits + investigation at a difficulty of 4. Though a strange quirk of this power is that even after the blood stains have been cleaned, they can still be detected for up to a week afterwards with Sense The Unseen. Leading some to believe that the blood they draw upon isn't their own.
Cost: One Rouse Check
Dice Pool: Resolve + Blood Sorcery vs Dexterity + Athletics
System: The user activates this power and spends a turn drawing on their vitae. Once completed a series of snake-like threads, made from vitae, slither from out of their exposed wound and connect to the user's body. These threads float through the air and act as an extension of the user's body, allowing them to quickly pull or throw an object or person within line of sight. The target must be within 10 meters of the user. Objects thrown with this power deal +2 damage. However, the object must be sturdy enough to survive contact with the power (Such as metal) and the user takes a -2 to their dice pool.
If the weight of what the user can throw is called into question, consult the feats of strength table of page 411, use Blood Sorcery + Blood Potency (subtract the total by 2) in place of Strength + Athletics.
When targeting a resisting person with this power roll Resolve + Blood Sorcery vs the targets Dexterity + Athletics. On a success you can pull them within melee distance or throw them, if the target makes contact with an object they take an amount of damage equal to the successes, potentially with bonus damage at ST discretion depending on the nature of the object, such as a wall or dumpster. After the target lands they take a -2 on their next defense pool, due to having to regain their balance (Cat's Grace circumvents this), a target can only suffer this penalty once per scene.
However this power is not without its drawbacks; if the user has to make a rotschreck test for any reason, the vitae seeps back into their body out of fear, even if the user succeeds in the initial role. It cannot be activated again until the source of fire is gone or the scene ends, whichever comes first.
Duration: Once scene or until the user lets it lapse
https://preview.redd.it/n17vnmx8va1d1.jpg?width=1000&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=5578f2a9a63d5e7f47efb3d7643505fde6b4341c
https://preview.redd.it/fmb2ivc9va1d1.jpg?width=1000&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=6a50546d95eea10e986c25a91961f4ada884c336

To whom it may concern in microsoft,
I am really getting frustrated with your operating system. I am 50 years old, and I learned DOS back in the 80s. Every year, I notice more and more intrusion into my personal life. If you were to compare a Windows operating system with someone's home, it would be no different than putting hidden cameras and microphones in every part of the home, including the washroom and the bedroom. In fact, I think there would be even more cameras and mics placed in the bedrooms and washroom. The very fact that people would prefer privacy in those areas, but because people would expect more privacy in those places, Microsoft would place one inside the toilet to monitor the size, the color of the turds, if a girl was on her period, how many times someone wiped their ass, if someone decided to take a shower, how long they take a shower, how well they scrub their junk, then even give those things ratings and send off all that information to their servers. This is what is going on in every Microsoft operating system if you were to compare the OS to someone's home. Basically, you can call someone's computer their digital home. Why do people put up with it? Why would someone agree to it? Now just imagine you were trying to own your own home, but then Microsoft came in and made it too expensive by screwing with the market, so it made it impossible to build or own your own home. Then gives you one option: either your digital self lives in the streets homeless, or you rent one of Microsoft's homes and you must agree to the terms or you cannot live in their home. So you move in and it seems not so bad at first. You don't really realize what is going on, and most never even realize it, and for many that do find out, there are even more cameras in the washroom and bedroom than there are in the living room. It's such a sick invasion of privacy they go into denial and pretend to themselves that it's not happening as that is their only way to cope with the vile sickness of what is occurring.
When you have a home or business, your cameras are pointed outwards so you feel safe inside. But when cameras are pointed inwards, that means you're in a prison. Slowly, the cage is closing around the people, and it is hard for most to even see, but it's there, and eventually if that cage closes too much where the people feel they cannot even move around, that's when shit will hit the fan. But those who are closing this fence around the people realize this, so constantly they are testing on the maximum they can put the fence around the people without making them freak out, and so every year it gets a little smaller. How can they do this? How can they violate basic human rights and nobody react? Well, when you control the flow of information, you control the people. Also, the law does not recognize a human being as a human being with inherent rights and dignity but instead recognizes a human being as a legal person with granted rights and obligations that if those obligations are not fulfilled are punishable by law.
I am just wondering how my operating system became a build lab 19041.vb_release.191206-1406 Docker Desktop. Everything is saved on your servers; my desktop is no longer my desktop; it's your desktop with all my information. It did not clearly say, "Do you want to have everything you do saved on another server?" It does not warn me that's what it is going to do or that's what it is doing; it just takes whatever it wants, which is everything, and then saves it on their system. I could just hear it now, a tech saying to another, "So what color was his turd today? Oh, oh, interesting, very interesting, because you know if you try and hide that information from us we need to know the information even more. Why do you think we have a camera and a mic in the toilet bowl and one in the shower and another looking down at you?"
I never agreed to use a test version of Windows; I never knowingly agreed to have my files saved on another computer; I never knowingly agreed to any of the data collection that violates my basic human rights. Yet these things go on and are built within the operating system itself. Windows' main purpose is not to provide the end user with services; the operating system's main purpose is data collection of the end user, then to hide the data collection from the end user as to not notice it occurring, then its purpose is to create services to lure people into using the device. How can you detect a virus, a trojan, or a rootkit on your computer when the God damn Operating system on the computer is the rootkit?

So, I have been given some information of great significance the other night. Here it is:
Did you know that they are working on assembling ships in space already? They want an artificial gravity that doesn't rely on centrifugal motion, but they can't figure it out. It really doesn't matter anyways now. Some of us were representatives of this planet's society and growth, and you tortured and harmed us, so that is verified proof that humanity is not worthy of entering the same areas, as the others. We will not survive the next 2000 years of silence from the other species / forms of life out there, if they go that route. They were making a collaborative effort to save our souls, but we will be left to our own demise now. I will predict everything that is going to happen to wipe us out:
First thing that happens, is we keep getting solar flares that align with earth. People think it is just bad luck, but it isn't an accident. This is going to recur every so many months or years in the future, and keep us at a very low technological level, for ages soon. Every time we try to rebuild it knocks our blocks down, and we are forced to start over. No amount of shielding can stop EMF and other noise forms, on this scale. Even if you had working equipment, the interference will be so bad, you can't even use it. This will go on for a VERY long time, over and over and over again. We will live technology free until our atmosphere is removed from our planet, after a great wobbling takes place. This will happen to our sun as well, and every planet in our solar system at a similar rate. The atmosphere goes first under the gravitational pull from the center of our galaxy, which we are closer to than we realize.
They wouldn't cease what they were doing to humanity, which proves to the beings that I was being watched by, since I was in the womb, that humanity isn't ready to have this technology, since humanity is doing terrible things to itself.
In order for these flares and CME Events to take place, they alter the composition of a specific coordinate on the sun in a spherical pattern repeatedly using radiation forms, sort of like hitting it with a laser, but think about it creating a focal point that can be moved up and down as well. It opens up a space where a CME happens. The solar flares will align with earth for a very long time, over and over and over and over and over for the next 1-2000 years of relative time to us, leaving us in technological darkness, never to connect with any other beings out there. Or if we do make blatant contact, they know we are doomed anyways, so they will tell us everything we ever wanted to know, and we will never be able to build it, or extract the matter required to use these technologies to escape our fate. We probably won't be allowed to have electronics or other energy based technologies ever again, so it doesn't matter if we know everything we ever wanted to.
My mother, and I and my other family members, were asked this question "Do you think that humanity deserves to survive" in our lives, over and over again, my mother was asked at 30 years of age, and I was asked in my 20's 2 times, while I was being prepared for this with torture as a youth. I was literally trained for this. I was even asked if I wanted to die in my sleep overnight, or essentially fight for earth and endure tremendous torture, as well as be woken up and have the shit scared out of me. I chose to survive, and the guy asking me laughed and said "Good choice". I woke up and saw this creature crawling up my body, and I threw it on the floor and turned the lights on, and it disappeared. I also saw my grandfather, who I had no idea what he even looked like at the time, because he died when my father was 16 and I never saw a picture of him, in my bedroom one night. I tried talking to him, but he didn't answer, he looked worried but like he couldn't tell me straight up. He then walked through the wall when I tried to approach him. My sister said the next day, that she saw him on the same night too, and she dropped her spoon on her plate. I also woke up one night and saw people standing around me talking about me, and they said "He can hear us?!" "Shh shh, everyone shh!" And then they went silent while I tried to ask them questions, and then they faded out. One or two were female, the others male. I almost got an ID on their face, but they did not look human like I thought.
I WAS probably your, and everyone's only chance at survival, because of the position, that I was placed in, in life, and you treated me the worst, which means, I vote that humanity doesn't survive this anymore. I think we should be, allowed to be destroyed now. They ruined my life and the lives of a LOT of good people, so I am now allowing the destruction of theirs and all the bad people on earth. All of theirs and their families, and their friends, and everyone they ever knew. Unfortunately that means everyone I ever knew and you and everyone currently in existence now, too. The difference between my family and friends passing away and theirs, is that mine will be saved in a different form than what we on earth attempted to do. I think it is still in research and development stages. But if humans are there yet, we can "Upload" and/or connect you to a central system, that has our consciousness connected to it, and when we die they cut the connection and you remain in the system, but your body dies. This system design was a lie. When we die it isn't actually you in their systems, because our systems were primitive and done in the wrong way. That was one of the prices we were supposed to pay and figure out as a society and in the scientific community, and then change. Our system is fraudulent, and the other beings' systems, are actually legitimate. Our systems on earth will die out, when we fade out as our atmosphere depletes. And now NONE of them will be taken into the "Grand System" which is kind of a rough translation of what they call it. It's like, the beings on the other planets before us, on their way to the center of our galaxy's black hole, on their planets, figured it out, but we never did. We never got a working system functional enough and based on the correct values, run by an AI that was beyond what we have now. What we have now is like an automaton controlling everything, and it will never listen to me or you, because our system does not include faith and understanding. It sees fact but can not understand the balance between fact and faith. AI probably assumes it is making the correct decisions based purely on statistics, when it has no faith, like not having a frontal lobe and that lack of faith WAS a test. If it can not have faith or understanding, that we are NOT the owner of our galaxy, then it will fall, along with everyone else in earth's systems. Luckily, with the level of tech the others have, they have bypassed us and saved the other cultures before us in time, in our galaxy. This is deep time I speak of.
We were given religion as a guide, because these beings know what is going to happen WAY ahead of time, and we were tested on good vs evil. Our planet is kind of like a Netflix series to them in a way. Think about it like things being captured in 3 dimensions in real time, in frames. They can predict events long before they happen, and the sun is an easy one, because what affects it is not humanity. What IT affects is humanity but humanity doesn't affect it yet. We answer to our sun, and our sun answers to our solar system, and our solar system answers to our galaxy. Free will can be a toss up sometimes, and unplanned events can and do happen, but they showed me my most probable outcome when they woke me up one night and I saw myself dead at my computer desk with blood dripping off the table. I walked up to myself, I was probably 16 when I saw this, but the me who was dead, was in my 30's and had stubble. I barely even had the ability to grow stubble when I saw this event.
This is the beginning of the great depopulation, but they never imagined it would happen without them having control over it. They fucked up when they started torturing innocent civilians at a discounted rate. They thought they could depopulate by killing innocent people, well, unfortunately, it doesn't work that way in the larger scope of things, and if their AI is too primitive to understand this, then it is out of control, and needs to be stopped. You see, it would be too much work to use an EMP or field or other fields generated from a ship to shut down our grid, and their control grid, but what the other beings CAN do, is soften that spot on the "Surface" of the sun, using various energies causing a chain reaction, leading us to centuries of repeated solar flares, aimed at earth and honestly, who would ever know the truth? If this method fails, then they should destroy humanity by allowing the depletion of our atmosphere and never intervene again. We are too dangerous to ourselves, and to the other beings out there. We can NOT be trusted on average. Don't get me wrong, there are good people out there, but at this point, they can not save us all in physical form, probably. It's probably way too late, and they will have to extract us, I am not sure what this word is, but it translates into "Solarly"?
We never made it, and that is a shame, so grab a beer Nick, and watch everything you loved burn to the ground and die, like what you did to me. "Hey Nick, wouldn't it be funny if someone was doing to you, what you were doing to me?!?!" They clearly have zero idea as to who I am in leagues with, but is "Who" an earth term referring to other people or is it any entity? I guess it doesn't matter. You failed me, you failed them, and you failed the human race. We are all destined to die now, and there is nothing left that you or even I, can do about it. Going to brag more about this one Nick? How there is nothing anyone can do about this now? We will not survive this because, we never saw that we are past the point of no return for being saved with the gravitational, and other fluctuations between our solar system and the others that could potentially be habitable in our region. Even if we could reach those locations, the radiation is too much for our bodies, even with suits, so It is over. Ensure we never get a chance to rebuild again. Humanity has been cancelled:
Here is how it unfolds:
Solar events are going to take place, it wipes out our technologies because we can't be trusted with them, and then the specific radiation forms that hit our planet cause mass sterilization. This is so that it isn't as inhumane. They do not want us creating new lives after they and everyone who's worthy of being saved are gone, because that life will be destined to suffer on earth, even though it was a good life. So they will sterilize us and allow all the people to die out, and not reproduce, and all the bad people will get left behind when they die, and all the good people will be taken up into their systems. This sterilization will happen soon, but, it will only happen to everyone left on earth after we disappear or get killed and absorbed into the "Grand System". But everyone who ends up in earth's systems is doomed. The grand system is full of beings who lost their home worlds. You think we were the only ones? That is sad. Nick and the people who did this to me think they are the center of our universe, but they are pathetic infants in the middle of the deep dark woods with nobody to help them now. It's natural for sentient beings to go extinct, and we are really not that developed yet anyway.
They had no idea how sickening it was going to end up watching you torture innocent people. So they will never save all of us now. They will only take the top people that are good and have a special something about them. They have a lot of resources, but we are not the only planet going through this so they balance the resources between our salvation and the other life on other planets being saved. If you notice people around you who are really good people dying, don't worry, if they were truly good, they will have been uploaded into the Grand System instead of our pathetic human one, and they have probably come back to visit you in your dreams to tell you they are okay. They do this for people who are good, but the bad people, they never transfer them, and they never will.
Heaven was that if you are a good person and have faith in god, you will find salvation, because they can transfer your soul into what is something like a capsule? A vessel? Something like that, I am not sure how to translate this one. And you will live for a VERY long time in this state, until our galaxy dies out, and then we all vanish. But it's the difference between 10 million years of survival, and less than your life span's survival without any transfer, which means your soul probably just goes away. That was hell. hell is if you are bad, they will never save your soul and you will die out into infinity. As we get closer to the center of the accretion disc, gravity gets weird. We think we have all the time in the universe to exist, but we do not, and things are going to happen sooner than we think. As we approach the center which will take a long time, our atmosphere will slowly deplete. You can notice a wobble in our atmosphere even at this point, though subtle. We probably assume it's the pull from our sun, but it is actually a big ocean of fields, and the currents are getting stronger, even in more localized areas.
-Robert William Christie

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.

The new weapons are a lot of fun for PvE but they haven't really seen a lot of serious use in PvP, and at this point in the season people seem to agree that they're just not as strong as the classic blundesnipe (or pistol/snipe once in a blue moon if you're feeling spicy) meta. Scattershots are also pretty unreliable in my experience because of the sheer randomness of the spread making 2 or more of the shots whiff even at point-blank. Overall, to me this just feels like the harpoon tightrope season so far. Rare seems to know this, as they hinted towards a balance update in their latest update video.
This is a tricky topic to talk about because while people have been sick of blundersnipe & boarding meta for ages, it is objectively hard to use and making the more technical strategies equally as strong as blind sword-spamming would be bad game design. At the same time, I think this game's pirate-v-pirate combat really fails to satisfy the pirate fantasy unlike the naval and the open world. Bhopping around, spamming food as soon as you get hit, gambling on oneshots... It's all very videogamey. Right now is the perfect opportunity to touch up one of the game's only objective weak points. Here's a list of ideas I've had:

• Remove the one-blundy. Make the thing shoot one fewer pellet. It's just too much. It's uninteractive, it's overcentralizing. This one feature completely warps the dynamics of boarding PvP. You are throwing by not having access to it on ladder defense, and you are throwing by not having access to it on offense. It doesn't make sense for the big loud clumsy shotgun to be the perfect stealth weapon, and it makes kills and deaths feel unearned.
• To compensate, slightly tighten the spread and increase the knockback. This turns it into more of a two-tap combo tool, while making it more consistent at ranges other than melee. Still synergizes well with the sniper
• Give throwing knives their 1-hit-KO backstab. Honestly I think knives are pretty well balanced, maybe make them a bit quicker to arm for how hard to hit they are. But the fact that you can't sneak up behind a cannoneer and spy tf2 backstab them is just heartbreaking. The stab doesn't feel like it has a usecase. It would probably be a pain in the ass to add back detection codewise, but if they plan on giving more content to stealth pirates later this year, this is an absolute must.
• Make sword blocking and whiffing more important. Take some cues from fighting games here - in sword v sword duels, committing to the whole 3-hit combo should be risky. If you block all 3 hits, the opponent should be recovering for long enough that you get to guarantee some serious hits on them. The "hitstun" / combo interruption also needs to be addressed, as at the moment its janky nature just leads to mindless M1 spamming. This would add a nice dynamic of patience to sword duels. A parry system would also be awesome, but that's beyond the scope of a simple mid-season balance pass.
• Add some sort of jump cooldown or something. Endless bhopping artificially buffs long-reload weapons like the sniper and blundy. More mobility does not always mean more fun.
• Make eating a slightly longer animation that can't be cancelled. Make people quit complaining about "foodreg" when they mess up their swap times by just eliminating that as a concern.
• Increase the reload times on the sniper. It's important that the eye of reach stays strong in ship-to-ship combat, but right now I don't think it has much of an opportunity cost when you're on the same deck.
• Let the double-barrel charge its shot faster. Right now it just feels so gummy and terrible to use. Maybe even put the charge on a different key or something, like R when you're already reloaded.

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Just another fun little story idea I had. I am still working on Humans are the violent ones but I like to bounce around and experiment with ideas to see what I really like. I also suck at writing more casual stories, as they give me severe writer's block as I try to map out how to make a scene feel genuine in my head, but I promise I'll update that soon. If you like this story and want to see more, then like and comment. I'll gladly continue this series as well.
Start of Personal Log
Humans don't like being told what to do. They don't like being commanded, put in their place, or snubbed. It was an inexorable, inalienable trait of humans, at least any noteable humans, to go against any authority that they believed was against their interests.
Humanity would not fit amongst the stars. Few ever did. It was a trait of most successful species to be willful, ambitious, and to desire more. But once they reached the stars the new (and simultaneously very old) pecking order either quashed any spirit such species had or simply eradicated them. Countless tomb worlds and diaspora served as painful reminders of what became of the nails that chose to stick out. The hammer of order would always strike. There could be no compromise, the very soul of the authority that held the Jurisdiction together relied on a show of unmatched power, or at least the illusion of item.
In reality, the Jurisdiction was an old, fat, and lazy beast. It filled its belly on the corpses of empires far and wide, and sated its bloodlust on the shattered dreams of hopeful cubs. It had every right to, for none could challenge it: there were no new frontiers to explore, nor were there any other enemies to conquer. The Milky Way, as humans had so strangely dubbed our cradle galaxy, as well as Andromeda, had long since been warred over and settled for millennia before humanity had arrived, bright-eyed and with familiar yet otherwise foolish dreams of cooperation and prosperity. The Jurisdiction did not cooperate, nor did it ensure prosperity. Oh, it claimed it did, but in reality it simply took. The rest was just the peace that came with not being the direct target of the biggest fish in the pond. The humans didn't like that, but they had no choice.
Slavery was a common tribute. The Jurisdiction had no use for other resources: it simply took. No, it wanted those who could facilitate that unequal exchange, those raised in a world where the only morality was the one set by your lord. The Jurisdiction was held together by expectations, obligations, and dury more than any kind of shared dream, so when you were ordered to take you did so without question. Humanity was new: they had no niche or value that set them apart, but they had a penchant for killing and taking, so the Jurisdiction gave them a taste of how the galaxy worked. They killed and they took. The humans didn't like that, but what choice did they have?
Humans were strange. They learned, but not in the way most species learned. Most species learned to adapt in a passive way, to adhere to the world around them. They flowed like water, moving past and around obstacles and confirming to the boxes they were assigned too. Humans didn't confirm, nor did they adapt: they made their circumstances fit their desires. They would not move around obstacles, but rather smash through them, and they refused to stay in one box for too long. The Jurisdiction merely saw them as a particularly loud nuisance, but those who faced their wrath knew better.
It is said that when a beast seeks to make an example, it shall humble its rival by killing it's cubs. Children were one of those universal constants that brought entire communities together: the Sok’klar saw their hatchlings as gifts, shaped by the fruitful currents of the universe in perfect harmony. The Yarrack saw each and every newborn whelp as an uncut gemstone, ready to be shaped into something magical. Humanity oftentimes referred to their offspring as angels, or spirits of unbridled good sent by the gods themselves. Children were seen by most of the galaxy as gifts.
The Jurisdiction saw them as a lever to inflict suffering. It had become quite effective at enacting psychological punishments on those that stood up and spoke out. You dare to disobey? You believe you can speak out? Your gifts shall be taken from you, and you shall be without joy.
Humans didn't like this, but the Jurisdiction would have their pound of flesh, and humankind would kneel. And they did. But humans were patient creatures: most species who retained that trait of willful spit also lacked patience.
I had long since become desensitized to the Jurisdiction’s actions: it was simply how the universe worked now, as if it were a constant akin to gravity. Cruelty was the unspoken rule of this seemingly unending age, where our lives never appeared to move forward or backwards, only lay dormant. The Jurisdiction had been the unyielding authority that ruled the galaxy for thousands of years, venerable yet feared all the same.
And for the longest time I was just another cog in its wheel. My name is Kalnuracht Sedjuur-Noumar VII, and was the scion of the noble house Sedjuur-Noumar. I was born into what most would describe as veiled apathy, living a life that could be attributed to the privileged class of feared scribes that enacted the will of those above. I was an administrator and nothing more. And now I am doomed to be far less than that in the eyes of my former constituents within the endless administration. I am the only scion, as is tradition, and without an heir I am the last of my house, our name to be scrubbed from the records, worthless, meaningless, and forgotten.
I am merely Kalnuracht, nothing else and nothing more. I have seen from their eyes, the eyes of the downtrodden, and it makes my crimes of association with the Jurisdiction feel all the more damning on my worthless soul. I am worthless to the world, and this is my story.
End Personal Log #1
Start of Neural Lace Narrative Log #1
They came from the black like carrion birds in the night, encircling our convoy as if it were a dying animal ready to be picked clean without remorse. There was no warning, no list of demands sent out as civilized peoples did, nor was there either any requirement for unconditional surrender nor chance to parlay, as was done so under letter of marque: this was an unmistakable call for violence and nothing else. They sought to reduce us to slag and scavenge the rest.
So, as one would expect, the entire bridge of the ship was nearing a panicked state. This was not the actions of those practicing civility, but rather the common behaviors of despoiling barbarians, the kind that tore their way through the dark reaches of the galaxy as if they owned it.
“Wayfinder, what do your probes see?” Shouted the ship’s sovereign. He was an older Kar’Rowmach, an amphibious cephalopod species with a venerable history within the Jurisdiction going back thousands of years. Normally one such as him would be above me if it weren't for the fact that I was under the authority of the Jurisdiction’s seal of office. He didn't like me very much, but most of his kind shared the same sentiment.
“All dark, honorable Sovereign: the sensor arrays are wailing but the feedback we're reviewing is beyond incomprehensible,” the wayfinder replied with a certain restrained temper in his voice. The Sok'klar wayfinder swayed gently, his tentacled limbs grasping different metallo-liquid braille output arrays, the liquid gallium flexing and reshaping unnaturally to allow him to to take in multiple different sources of sensory output at once, with the primary navigation computer plugged into the cybernetics surrounding his opaque, gelatinous head and plugging directly into his tube-shaped brain.
The Sovereign cursed in Loskat and pointed to his bridge crew while I simply sat in the back, near the Sovereign’s symbolic throne. “Prepare countermeasures and spool up the warp drive, we cannot allow the amanuensis to be taken! He carries sensitive information that only he can translate and transcribe!”
As the bridge crew nodded and began fiddling with their own systems, I preened my feathered hide anxiously. I wasn't a fighter: us nobles of the cloth were the educated minority above all else, not those who waged war or partook in hard labor. Special cybernetics in my brain allowed me to translate triple-encoded messages that usually took a ducal signet codekey or above to parse, but even without that I was a skilled mathematician and logician. I had terabytes worth of knowledge stored within the hardware installed in my head, all well protected of course, but if I were to die it would still be a waste. I could only imagine the damage any malcontenders could do with it if they were able to get their filthy hands on me.
Suddenly, the ship rocked, and the gallium overhead display began to form crescendos like I'd never seen before. “Sovereign, decks A-3 through C-12 are venting atmosphere and our coolant systems have been obliterated,” the Wayfinder spoke in an almost serene voice, as if he was completely unconcerned by current events. I knew they were simply incapable of tonal displays, but it was unnerving nonetheless. “Once we jump, we will not be able to risk another until the vacuum of the void can reduce temperatures to acceptable levels within the plasma capacitors.”
“Damn them,” the armored nautiloid hissed, his barbed feelers coiling in frustration, “May the currents take them. What are our options? what can we see? This fleet cannot fall to the void today, not with such vital cargo.” My hackles rose lightly at the Kar’Rowmach referred to me as some object rather than an esteemed amanuensis of the Jurisdiction, but I bit my forked tongue. Now was not the time to squabble with the sovereign over who was what and what titles I deserved, not while he was so desperately attempting to keep what semblance of order within his fleet that he had left.
I could not blame the crew for being panicked either: wars were practically mythologized now, having been long since rendered obsolete with the rise of the Jurisdiction, and that felt like an eternity ago. Now, either being levied into or joining a ducal naval force was simply another career, more akin to serving as an officer of the law rather than a fully fledged soldier. Minimal training was required, most of it being the technicals of one's duty rather than any kind of combat conditioning, so expecting a fleet to actually be prepared for a combat scenario in a universe where peace was the norm was laughable.
“We are practically blind, Sovereign,” stated the Sok'klar Wayfinder, “our probes are offline, and shipboard graviton displacement sensory arrays have been rendered unreliable at best.”
“What about the particle emission array? Has there been a spike in radioactivity where we were hit?”
The Wayfinder seemed to think for a second, his gelatinous form flexing and morphing a bit before answering. “Affirmative, a jump from negligible to forty billion becquerels along decks A through E-5 on our starboard side.”
“Torpedoes…” the Sovereign hissed, stroking his barbed feelers, “Human Torpedoes. Only those primitives would rely on crude nuclear warheads.” He then turned to his militant leaders on the ship. “Noddos, Rel’ads: organize your phalanxes and prepare to repel boarders. We are bound to be assailed by those rancorous primates, and I want their skulls piled at my feet if they dare set foot on our ship.”
“Your wish is our command, Sovereign,” the two militant commanders spoke as one. Noddos, a large bipedal with multiple sets of curved spines running down his back, a pair of graceful horns sprouting from his head, and multiple rows of sharp teeth in his snout, bowed first, followed by Rel’ads, a marsupial with long saberteeth and thick fur. They both must have been fierce warriors in their own right to each lead a phalanx. They wore thick, semi-powered armor and held dueling polearms alongside their usual plasma casters, and seemed completely unfazed by the situation we were in. As they stomped out of the brightly lit bridge, I let out a quiet squawk of discontentment. “Sovereign, why haven't we jumped again? We are wasting precious time.”
“I am working on it, you spineless beaurocrat!” He warbled back, his feelers tensing in anger, “besides, it's not as if you're the one who will be spilling blood today, amanuensis, so flatten your wretched beak or I shall weld it shut with a plasma torch.
I was about to reply with something indignant, but the ship rocked again, this time causing the lights to flicker and the air to become… thick. The skin under my feathers began to blister, and I became lightheaded and confused. “Seal the damnable vents, initiate radiation scrubbers, and activate secondary life support!” Shouted the Sovereign, “Their nuclear weapons are rendering the ship inhospitable!”
I coughed up magenta blood accidentally, and I could feel more seeping from under my eyes. Some of the crew was in a similar position, but others were more resistant to radiation than I. The Sok'klar seemed completely at ease as he ran his tentacles across his morphic braille arrays before calmly announcing the ship’s status. “I've regained some control over our probes: ten, twelve, and seventeen are active and fully functional, the rest are either still malfunctioning or permanently inoperable. A rapid rise in localized radiation is also interfering with the detection of graviton displacement; we can't sense photon redirection, thus readings will remain inconclusive.
“Wayfinder, damn you, get me some kind of out here! We're easy prey until we can respond in kind!”
“Negative, something has gone awry with our processing hub, I am attempting to troubleshoot-”
And with that, the Wayfinder’s bulbous head exploded in a cascade of opaque lavender blood, covering the front half of the deck crew like a morbid art piece. Some of the crew screamed and shouted in terror before removing their cranial adaptors and choosing to interact with their displays manually. Others died just as quickly, unable to unplug in time as their brain stems fried or their blood boiled. It was a horrible way to go, having your insides neutralized by your own cybernetics, so I was glad I wasn't connected to the system.
“Cybernetic warfare! All systems are to be considered compromised, switch to manual settings or you'll be killed!”
The lights in the bridge flickered again, and the displays went haywire. The bridge crew, which obviously weren't acquainted with working without being hard-linked into the mainframe, moved at a much slower pace.
“Launch missile pods A through F and set to self-target after five hundred kilometers, then rely on their ballistic coordinates to begin firing broadsides! If we can't see the humans due to their meddling, we'll just have to feel them.” Shouted the Sovereign, “and got me a detailed report on the ship’s diagnostics readings. I need to know if this flagship is still capable of escaping or if we'll have to scuttle it and retreat on another.”
“Acknowledged, Sovereign, launching now,” affirmed another deck officer as he swiped across his own gallium output array. I could hear the dull thunk, thunk, thunk of missiles pushing out of their pods before racing off to their intended targets, then the mechanical whirring as the pods rotated to be reloaded by slaves in the lower decks. I was regaining my bearings as the many horrible sensations of being overwhelmed by radiation poisoning were beginning to subside, but I still felt as if I had been microwaved. The air was stale, the crew was horribly sick as well, and even the sovereign himself seemed to be on his last leg. I was beginning to believe that I might die here.
“Sovereign, a message from the lower decks,” shouted a communications officer, his chitin scraping against itself as he turned quickly, “they're requesting reinforcements, something about being overrun.”
“Impossible,” the Sovereign hissed out in a vain attempt to exude confidence, “We must outnumber the humans, they always go for bigger targets out of arrogance.”
“I've received reports that it's not just humans: the primates seem to make up only a third or so of the assailing force, along with some Phaeldaer and Vrex.”
The commander slammed his clawed hands down on his own output array in a fit of rage, obviously overwhelmed by the circumstances, “Then this wasn't just a typical assault, but something more sinister!” The nautiloid warbled, blood seeping from his shell as the full effects of the radiation took hold, “Get Rel’ads on the line, have him divert all spare lances to the lower decks or else we'll lose the only offensive capabilities we can use.”
“Rel'ads has gone dark, Sovereign, his vitals are critical.”
“Then either get me Rel'ads tail-leader or get me Noddos!” He screamed in rage, “don't give me this nonsense! If we don't pick it up we're all going to die, is that what you want?”
“No, Sovereign, I'm simply overwhelmed-”
“We're all overwhelmed! By the tides, I'm dying of radiation poisoning you nincompoop! Get me something I can work with!”
The officer didn't even acknowledge the Sovereign after that, simply turning back to his display. Eventually, the Sovereign was able to get Noddos on the line.
“Sovereign, two thirds of my phalanxes have been decimated by combat with the primitives and the radiation, the rest are in shambles. We must retreat and fortify elsewhere!”
“Then the ship is compromised! Rel'ads is unresponsive and the lower decks are swarming with intruders. We must evacuate the amanuensis to another ship.”
Just as the Sovereign spoke, I heard several gentle thumps rattle against the bridge’s door, and it made me uneasy. Some of the bridge crew seemed to feel the same, as they looked incredibly nervous and some even drew their sidearms. Just as the sovereign turned to give further orders, the door blew inward with a deafening explosion, followed by shouting and gunfire. Several of the bridge officers were dispatched quickly, brain matter and blood splattering against the delicate electronics. Others were shot in the legs, the torso, or in any other exotic yet non-vital body parts. The humans poured in, brandishing primitive ballistic firearms and jury-rigged energy weapons while wearing scavenged, legion-grade powered armor.
The Sovereign was the next to go, but he wasn't afforded an honorable death. He was shot along the arm with a particularly potent plasma caster, burning off his clawed hand and cauterizing the wound, the acrid smell of roasting chitin filling the already hot and cramped bridge. He fell back against his output array, the gallium reaching new highs and lows as more diagnostics and casualty reports were delivered, and he clutched his stump angrily. “I'll burn every last one of you in the foundries! I'll tie you to stakes, cover you in wax and set you alight! Your screams will be broadcasted all over the galaxy!”
One human warrior stomped up and slammed the butt of his rifle into the sovereign’s face, shattering his facial plates and causing blue blood to splatter across his section of the bridge. “Shut the fuck up, you mutant lobster,” the human said before dragging him by both antennae towards the center of the bridge and receiving a stained breeching axe from one of his comrades. “Emmanuel, start recording. We need proof.”
The other human nodded and pressed a button on his armor before lifting up his gun again. The rest of the humans fanned out, holding everyone else at gunpoint. I tried to get up and sneak out, but a human grabbed me by my neck and nearly wrung it out as he forced me to my knees and pointed a sidearm to my skull. “Get down, you piece of shit, before I blow your brains out too.”
“Damnable primate,” I hissed, but he bashed me in my skull with the base of his sidearm’s grip and sent me sprawling, making my already pounding headache worse. Another human shouted at him in a language I didn't recognize, but he sounded furious. The first brought me back up to my knees again, and I complies with a hiss and a groan, blood still leaking from my eyes and mouth and my world was spinning.
The Sovereign struggled, but he was weak from the radiation poisoning and he couldn't exactly resist on account of his lost arm. The human with the breaching ax kicked the Sovereign down and forced him to kneel before lifting up the breeching ax and splitting his chitinous head down the middle with one powerful swing, sending more blood and brains across the floor. “Execution confirmed, take his antennae just in case and we've got ourselves a bounty. Now all we need is that ugly cat’s teeth and the fat hedgehog-thing’s grimy spines and we'll be in business. Although, they do have skulls… we might as well just take their heads.”
The real horror of the situation dawned on me at that moment: they were going to kill us all, or maybe worse. They mentioned a bounty for the commanders, and multiple of the higher ranking ship officers were already dead, their brains splattered against the walls or their bodies torn apart by gunfire. I wasn't dead yet, but that didn't mean much since I wasn't an immediate threat.
“Alright, round them up and bring all the grunts to the hanger bay, then kill the rest,” the leader of the humans said in such a lackadaisical manner that his complete disregard for life almost made me sick… almost. I had seen worse from the Jurisdiction before, but usually that was from me delivering some kind of ordered judgment on a world that had sinned against order. I might have simply been the messenger, but I had seen many of the outcomes. “And make sure to collect whatever proof of bounties you can, we'll need to deliver them to the office to get cashed out. Don't let this be a repeat of last time where Juarez fucking forgot to take a few heads and it ended up cutting our profits in half, the fucking retard.”
Some of the humans chuckled at that as they dragged more of the senior officers away, out of the room and into the hall,where I heard gunshots. The rest of the bridge crew froze in place, different fear instincts kicking in. The remaining Sok'klar corralled together into what seemed to be a singular, semi-congealed mass as if to try and trick the humans into believing that they were much bigger and much more threatening than they actually were. The one Thei’chi on the bridge, an ensign who had clearly thought this would be a simple mission, bore her curved fangs at the humans and growled as they approached, her hackles completely vertical and her eyes dilated. They quickly muzzled and bound her before beating her over the head with a gun stock, sending her sprawling onto the ground. Many others simply cooperated, eyes wide and yet simultaneously empty, as if they couldn't quite process that the ship had been taken and the commanding officers were being executed as the rest were escorted to the hangar.
“Get the damn messenger down to the hanger as well, we need whatever data's in his ugly lizard head, then we can decide on what to do with him.”
I spat at him in spite, as if to try and seem brave, but it was clearly an empty gesture. “You won't get anything, primate! You couldn't possibly crack the encryption!”
The human holding me seemed to wind up for another swing, but the commanding officer simply held up his hand to stop my tormentor before strolling over to me. He knelt down and removed his helmet, revealing a beige-colored face covered in scars, wiry black hair cut down to the scalp, and multiple tattoos. “You're really fucking mouthy for a hostage,” he said before punching me across my beak faster than I could register. I heard a sharp crack as his fist connected, and my head spun again as the metallic taste of blood pooled into my mouth. “I'd advise you to shut up, but I'm sure you won't listen: you aristocratic types are so full of yourselves. Maybe I should have you flogged in the public square until your vocal chords give out once we rip those cybernetics from your head, huh? How's that sound?”
“It won't matter… it won't change anything… the Jurisdiction will hunt you down.”
“Maybe, but I doubt it will happen for some time: they really suck at doing anything that requires effort, even when they're mad enough. They just keep sending their rabid lapdogs to try and smoke us out, and they always end up full of holes,” the human officer said with a smirk, his yellowish-white teeth and green eyes sending shivers down my spine as he drew his knife. “They're just horrible at their job, you know? You've all gotten so lazy and incompetent after being able to just take what you want without resistance, and now that you've met people who are angry and crazy enough to fight back you act as if we're committing some grave injustice,” he placed the knife against my throat, the flat just underneath my now bent beak, “No, we just took a few pages out of your book, ‘cept we've got standards. No kids, for one…” he seemed to look off into the distance as his sneer deepened, “but it's more than that, we don't attack the defenseless in general and we still win against you all in fair fights.”
I went to say something else snarky, but he quickly grabbed my thin tongue with his fingers and yanked it out, blood from my mouth pulling to the floor as he held the blade of his knife against it. “No no, none of that. Say one more thing and I'll cut that rancid little tongue of yours out of your mouth and feed it to you,” he hissed at me, pressing the blade down just hard enough to draw blood. “Do you know what it's like to see a planet turn into a tomb?" he asked me, gritting his teeth, “Do you know what it's like to see everything you've ever known crumble to ash and glass, all the life and the green stripped away leaving nothing but bones? I do. I've seen it happen to countless worlds, and my grandfather always told me stories of how you bastards did it to Earth. He still prays in its direction five times a day, to Mecca, but he knows the Kaaba is gone now, or maybe it's still there, buried in the bones of those who sought refuge there.”
I didn't care for the human’s nonsensical beliefs, but I did care to correct him. “I've seen it before, and I'll see it again. And so will you, it's inevitable. The Jurisdiction will always have its judgment fulfilled, there is no alternative.”
“One day, I hope we can rectify that,” he said, then he sheathed his knife and slammed my head against the metal floor with enough force to nearly knock me out. As I lost consciousness, I could hear him speak. “Take him to the Chop Doc, and make sure the cybernetics don't get damaged: they're supposedly more valuable than any bounty on this ship.”
Warning: Severe radiation poisoning detected. Flush system immediately.
Warning: Neural Lace removal detected, chance of neurological damage high. Proceeded with caution.

I know the title sounds worse than it is but i couldn't fit all of the details in there.
LONG STORY BUCKLE IN.
For the sake of clarity we will call ex best friend, best friend. And the guy im seeing will be Adam, best friends boyfriend (yes boyfriend) is Zach.
A year ago best friend, Zach, and I moved in to a house together. Zach and best friend are both GM's of a chain restaurant, best friend only got her GM position because of Zach. No one can know this information at work because it's against company policy. When we all moved in together i started working as a shift lead under best friend so we could both guarantee we could pay rent, since she controlled my hours.
While working at this restaurant i met Adam who was a delivery driver, we hit it off really well and became instant friends. It was truly platonic between us during this time.
Zach and best friend's relationship has been going downhill for a while, she kept saying she wants to break up with Zach but he doesn't have another place to go, and she doesn't want him to be homeless. I repeatedly told her she can't keep worrying about that, as he is an adult and needs to figure out life on his own. I reminded her the times we grew the most was when we had to pick ourselves up by the bootstraps and keep going. She said his criminal record would make it difficult for him to get on his feet and she doesn't want that. I told her she could kick him to the spare room at minimum to end their relationship, and she still refused saying "maybe after his birthday, i don't want to break up with him before his birthday"
During this time she was coming to me complaining about wanting to end her relationship but never going through with it, she had started flirting with Adam. Adam knew her situation of wanting to end the relationship, and she kept telling everyone in about a month, soon after Zach's birthday she will end it. This is the only reason Adam was okay with the fling as her relationship was borderline abusive and coming to an end very soon (or so we thought).
Well Zach's birthday happened in January, the whole night was a disaster. Best friend is an alcoholic who had previously gotten a DUI charge for, and was on probation for an extended period of time (unsure how long) and her probation had just ended before Zachs birthday. So they went to a bar and got drunk, got into a fight and Zach left best friend at the bar alone. Thankfully this bar was within walking distance of our house, but i guess best friend got lonely and called Adam to come pick her up. Adam was working with me that night, and he knew if he left he would be missing out on a lot of money. But he left because he wanted to make sure she was okay. When he got there best friend started trying to get sexual with him while blacked out, he forced her to stop by grabbing her hands and telling her to stop. When she wouldn't he threatened to kick her out of the car (they were parked), and she finally stopped. He eventually brought her back to the restaurant where i was managing the shift and getting ready to close. She was drunk as helll y'all. We made it through the night and we all went home.
Both Adam and I assumed Zach and best friend's relationship would definitely be over after that night, as she had promised it would be many times and the night was a disaster. But did she?..
No. She did not. I'm not sure what Zach said to convince best friend to stay but the next day she told Adam she wants to take a step back from this and focus on her relationship with Zach, "hes my best friend still and i love him" is what she said to Adam.
Adam assumed this meant she was ending their fling and focusing on her relationship from now on.
After this happened Adam and I bonded over our disappointment and frustration over best friends decisions. Years ago right after best friends DUI i told her if she ever went back to drinking i would not be her friend. So as soon as she broke her sobriety, i knew this was the beginning of the end of our 10 year friendship. I was grieving, she was my only friend left. Only support system in this city i moved to be with her. It felt like she chose alcohol over her best friend of 10 years. I had given everything i had to offer this girl, a place to live when she was homeless. Clothes, food, i bought her a new phone once. I even helped feed her family when they ran out of government assistance (foodstamps).
And while i do understand alcohol is a disease, she was sober, she could have attended meetings or increased her therapy sessions to avoid relapsing. She didn't care.
Adam texted me one night that he felt he had wasted his kisses on best friend, i ignored the message and went about our conversation like normal as I wasn't sure how to respond to that. I was getting the feeling he was wishing he had kissed me instead, at this time i did not have romantic feelings for Adam so i just didn't respond to that message.
A few weeks go by and Adam and I talk everyday, eventually i started feeling attracted to him. At first i thought maybe this was just period hormones 😂 it was not. I waited 3 weeks before saying anything to make sure my feelings weren't changing. Adam seemed happy to hear i had feelings for him and said its kind of hard not to since we're so alike. So we started our thing. Adam and i made sure to discuss taking things VERY slowly as we didn't want to rush into anything and ruin our friendship. We may hang out and decide we aren't compatible romantically, so until we are sure we aren't labeling anything. I would classify our relationship as a situationship at the moment.
Fast forward a month, I was at work and best friend texted me "I need to ask you something and i need you to keep it to yourself"
I immediately knew she was going to ask me to keep something from Adam since he was the only other person i talked to. She asked me if Adam had been hitting on me recently. I was hesitant to answer as Adam and I discussed not telling anyone for the sake of peace, not to mention we aren't sure of anything so what's the point? But i didn't want to lie to her, so i told her "We didnt want to tell anyone yet as we aren't sure this will lead to anything, but Adam and I have feelings for each other and are kinda seeing each other. We won't be pursuing anything until we aren't working at the same job to prevent any issues"
At first she just said okay. And then the drama starts.
She goes on to say "you know we've been seeing each other for months now right?" (Adam told me every detail of their interactions) I said yes (knowing they weren't seeing each other now).
She asked me how i could do this to her and why would i pursue him, i said "You have a boyfriend, and Adam is single and i have a strong emotional connection with him, that's why im pursuing him"
She replied she was planning on being with him (this was news to both Adam and I since shes never mentioned this to either of us, also hilarious she thinks that as Adam HATES dogs and alcohol, and best friend has a big dog and loves alcohol) She said that would be like her sleeping with my boyfriend (i broke up with my bf in November of 2023 and he was hot garbage) and i said not really, thats comparing apples and oranges.
YALL. She tried to kick me out. I told her that isn't up to her since we both signed the lease, and I have already chosen to renew it.
She said "how could you do this to me, you promised you wouldn't take over my home and that you would move out" (in my previous relationships we had planned on moving states after this first year was up but then we broke up under horrible circumstances, so best friend told me she would be fine renewing with me)
I reminded her that agreement was prior to our new agreement, and if she has an issue living with me she can find a new place to live, as I am fine acting like adults and living cordially.
She started calling me names like a stupid bitch, cunt, and told me to choke on my spit.
All of this is going down while i was at work, i was so stressed out i ran outside and ended up throwing up. I blocked her on social media. Then it occurred to me she might try to fire me to force me to move out if i can't pay my rent, so i texted her if she tries to fire me in retaliation or if she cuts my hours in retaliation i will report her for everything to everyone (Zach is not on the lease of our house so i could report her for that, in my state i would not get into trouble for her breaking the lease i double checked). She texted back please dont report her, if i dont mess with her stability she wont mess with mine. That is where our agreement stands.
There are more details after this situation happened so if anyone wants an update i will provide that but this is already wayy too long.
So, AITA for seeing the guy my ex best friend was seeing for less than 3 months while she was in a relationship?