Stiff neck, head ache, plugged ear
26F Hard Gagging cause BPPV or head pressure damage?
2024.05.28 03:18 Ok-Power3977 26F Hard Gagging cause BPPV or head pressure damage?
25F 5’3 110lbs fit lean no issues with my health beaides chronic since teens
Hi!
Ive had anxiety (from my controlling mother and her undiagnosed anxiety) since a small teen. For a decade i get panic attacks that trigger dry heaving / heavy gagging. I rarely throw up and always feel better after a gag. Its like, high heart rate, lightheaded, then a few HARD upper esophagus gags to the point i see stars. Then immediate like relief and relaxation like a wave of endorphins rush through my body… anyways…
I’ve always thought the hard gagging might damage my sinus or ear and head system due to the massive increase in cranial pressure. I’ve been working on it and the last year my anxiety is a lot more under control.
Last week i had a particularly bad episode, i gagged and gagged and saw stars and had to sit down. Afterwards i went to my usual gym and did some squats which also increased cranial pressure. I got really dizzy and lightheaded but kept going and finished my workout no problem. 💪
A day or two later i got really dizzy with a headache… 😵💫 i thought i tweaked my neck so i did a lot of massage around the temporalis and the neck and the headache was gone. But the dizziness stayed for many days. Its so bad i have to constantly lay down.
Today and yesterday it is better but still random dizziness when i move my head. I started doing research and came across BPPV. I went through some rolling and head tilt exercises to try to move the otoconia crystals back in place and it seemed to help a lot!!!
My question, is it possible i dislodged some crystals causing BPPV from my heavy gagging causing high cranial pressure? And is it possible to rupture brain vessels?
Thanks for reading !
submitted by Ok-Power3977 to AskDocs [link] [comments]
Hi!
Ive had anxiety (from my controlling mother and her undiagnosed anxiety) since a small teen. For a decade i get panic attacks that trigger dry heaving / heavy gagging. I rarely throw up and always feel better after a gag. Its like, high heart rate, lightheaded, then a few HARD upper esophagus gags to the point i see stars. Then immediate like relief and relaxation like a wave of endorphins rush through my body… anyways…
I’ve always thought the hard gagging might damage my sinus or ear and head system due to the massive increase in cranial pressure. I’ve been working on it and the last year my anxiety is a lot more under control.
Last week i had a particularly bad episode, i gagged and gagged and saw stars and had to sit down. Afterwards i went to my usual gym and did some squats which also increased cranial pressure. I got really dizzy and lightheaded but kept going and finished my workout no problem. 💪
A day or two later i got really dizzy with a headache… 😵💫 i thought i tweaked my neck so i did a lot of massage around the temporalis and the neck and the headache was gone. But the dizziness stayed for many days. Its so bad i have to constantly lay down.
Today and yesterday it is better but still random dizziness when i move my head. I started doing research and came across BPPV. I went through some rolling and head tilt exercises to try to move the otoconia crystals back in place and it seemed to help a lot!!!
My question, is it possible i dislodged some crystals causing BPPV from my heavy gagging causing high cranial pressure? And is it possible to rupture brain vessels?
Thanks for reading !
2024.05.28 03:03 Spike_Flings Chapter 2: The Second Son Saga [Fantasy, - 5485 words]
This idea came to me in college and I've sort of played around with it over the years. I would appreciate any constructive criticism, especially focused on the prose and characters. This would be the introductory chapter of one of the main characters, Karl Klug, who is an important noble in his country. I hope you enjoy!
KARL 1
Three men stood beneath a great oak branch, hands bound and nooses pulled tight around their necks. The branches connected to a mighty tree, old as the mountains themselves. The men were all silent, as were the other corpses gently swinging in the morning breeze. The air was still cold from the dew, not yet banished by the still rising sun.
“If you have anything left to say, now would be the time.” Karl Klug, Lord of the Wald said as he eyed them with disgust from the back of his chestnut horse destrier. He sat tall in the saddle, his close cropped brown hair and clean shaven face a far cry from the ragged appearance of the condemned. His heavy, black, woolen cloak was pulled tight, the hood up to block out the wind. Under the cloak he wore a simple brown doublet, with a crest bearing the black tree on a green field that was the sigil of his house. Karl always made sure to represent House Klug when acting as Lord, as was his duty.
These men were thieves, rapists, and murderers. They attacked travelers on the roads of the Wald, and it was Karl’s duty, as Duke of the Wald and Lawspeaker to the King, to keep those roads safe. The law demanded only one punishment for their transgressions. Their fate would serve as a warning to other would-be bandits.
The first man, a stern face and hard eyes, said nothing, but spat on the ground. The second man, fat and whimpering, managed to speak out in between choked sobs “Please m’lord. Mercy! They made me do it!”
The last man, a boy no older than fifteen, barked at him to be quiet. “We’re done for Ozzy. Go to the Wainman with some dignity, would you?” Such bravery in one so young. What could he have become if he followed a different path?
With that, Karl nodded to Jorivs, his household Resolver, who pulled hard on the ropes, them each one by one into the air, sending them kicking and choking into the Beyond. The second one, Ozzy, screamed and begged for his mother before the rope cut him off. Jorivs tied the final line off to a stake, while Wolter, his barber-surgeon companion, scribbled something down in a book. “They go to their doom in all different spirits, yet they all dance the hangman’s jig just the same.” He said as he turned a page.
“Amazing the lessons they teach at Spierpont.” Jorvis chuckled as the last pair of legs stopped kicking. “Shame Lemba couldn’t join us.”
“The Elf has seen his fair share of death. Let him enjoy his peace.”
“I only jest, my lord.” Jorvis said as he took a sip from his canteen. He motioned for Wolter to take a drink, but the older man was too busy furiously scribbling in his notebook to notice.
Karl looked to the east. The dawn was still cresting the horizon. “I’m off to the woods. I will not be disturbed.” Matilda and the children will still be sleeping. Best not to wake them with my return.
His pages nodded and replied in unison “Yes my lord.” By Karl’s standing order, Jorvis was peeling the boots of the dead men, better they should shoe a pauper than rot on the condemned. Wolter sketched the hanging men in his book, taking special care to note the lolling tongues and soiled breeches. Jorvis had the boots in a loose pile when he pulled a knife and a small pouch from his belt. “The eyes,my lord?”
He nodded grimly. “Hain will have his due.” Jorvis took a small stool and set to work, all six organs removed in a few quick flashes of the blade. Jorvis placed the grim package in its usual place on Baldur, Karl’s horse. With the bloody sack tied to his saddle, Karl rode off towards the thick forest nearby, a page in tow to hold his horse.
The page started to speak, and then stopped himself. He was a small boy, ten or eleven at the most. He had been to several executions before and not once had he been troubled by the sight of death.
Karl noticed the indecisive boy and helped him along.
“Something bothering you, Wiglaf?”
“The” came a squeak. Wiglaf cleared his throat and tried again. “The Resolver grumbles, lord. He grumbles that it would be easier to take the eyes before hanging the condemned.” He said meekly
“I know he grumbles. I know. But this is the way things are to be done. Taking their eyes before they hang is not the punishment for their crime. These men had their trial, and I sentenced them to die, not to be tortured. Do you understand, Wiglaf?”
“Aye, my lord. I understand.” Wiglaf nodded.
Wiglaf. So eager to learn but so nervous to offend. I’ll talk to his father the next time we meet.
This was the first time in months he had a chance to take in the forest. The influx in banditry in the past year had been a great source of woe not only to Karl, but to the Waldish people as a whole. They had enough to be fearful of without their fellow man adding to their problems. It had kept Karl up many nights, as he racked his brain trying to figure out the cause.
He had built roads, sick houses, held fairs, endorsed the Bard’s college, done all in his power to keep the people happy and content and quiet, and yet, there were some who still turned to crime. Why? No. Not now. Not here. Karl decided that he needed to rest his mind from constant affairs of state, and allow himself to relax before he made his offering.
They reached a clearing, and Karl dismounted. “Hitch up Baldur and rub him down. Have something to eat from my pack if you get hungry. I don’t know how long I’ll be gone this time.” The page nodded. Wiglaf, a good lad, if a bit timid at times. Weather had concealed his typical path into the great forest, but muscle memory lead his way.
He enjoyed his solitary walks in the woods, it gave him a chance to forget the woes of rulership, the frustrations of fatherhood, and the horrible curse that befell his bloodline. Now that things had quieted down with the bandits, Karl hoped he might have more time to be a husband to his wife, Matilda, and a father to their children. His three children, though nearly adults themselves, still tended to make a commotion. What they need is a firm hand. Their mother will spoil them rotten if she has her way. Karl laughed to himself. She always gets her way.
His feet knew where he was going, even if his mind did not. He always returned to the same place, no matter what direction he turned. Are the woods themselves magic, or just the creatures that inhabit it? He wondered as he found the well worn dirt path covered by a tunnel of tree limbs. The branches must have kept this clear from storms after all.
Few who entered the Wald came back alive, save for the Elves and their slaves, who usually came out in one piece. Most who walked too far past the tree line simply vanished. There were rumors, of course. Even his own grandfather had claimed that he was, in fact, the same Helm Klug that had vanished without a trace in the winter of 542. He had fallen through a tree hollow and into the myth shrouded realm of Cunnan, where time flows differently, or so the stories go. As such, though ninety-five years had passed from the time of the vanishing, Helm had only aged ten years or so.
Karl’s realm was a dangerous one, even without the recent rise of the highwaymen. To an outsider, walking alone in the duchy of the Wald was like strolling past a dark alley with coins jingling loudly. To Karl Klug, Lord of the Wald, it was like walking into his own bedroom. He had grown up here, he knew that danger lurked behind every tree, above every branch, and below every root. Not once had he seen anything like what Grandfather Helm had rambled about. No fairies or witches or traces of Hain. Still, one had to tread carefully here. Even Karl would not dare to venture in some parts of the forest, for an ancient force still had power in the dark parts of Bordrim.
I hope Hain will be pleased with my tribute. To survive here, one had to know when to fight, when to run, and when to submit. Some might call that heretical, going against the word of the church, But that was not something he wished to think about now, not when he was trying to be at peace.
The fresh air cleared his head and refreshed his spirit. Karl took a long, deep breath filling his lungs with the cold morning damp. He knew he would not be distrubed here, as none but the Duke of the Wald may travel to this part of the woodland.
He had been Duke ever since the death of his father when he was just four years old, though he had not ruled in his own right until he was fourteen. In that time, he had learned much from his regents, and his mother, who was far more capable than many made her out to be. She had taught him that most men, however pure their intentions may seem, nearly always had some ulterior motive that they wished to advance. Karl remembered that as his most valuable lesson, and it had assisted him greatly as he came of age. My father’s sycophants did not last long when I ruled in my own right.
The sound of rushing water came to his ear as he walked by the River Cember where his father had drowned. He used to intentionally go out of his way to avoid being near it, but now he barely gave it a second glance. I used to be so afraid of the water, until I understood why Father died. But by then, Mother had the Court Elf Lembe throw me in Sillac Pond. How I thrashed! It didn’t seem so scary after that. Fate is far more terrifying than any danger and far more comforting than any joy. Once you have been through the worst, everything else can be done with ease.
Karl heard a branch snap in the trees to his right, and his hand slipped to the silver coated dagger at his hip. He stood still as the trees around him, slowly moving his eyes from right to left as he looked for the source of the noise. Funny. I was afraid of harmless water for so many years when there were very real threats all around me the entire time. As long as I stay on the path, no beast would dare harm me.
There were no further noises, and judging by the humming of insects and the singing of birds, there was no real threat. Probably a stag or maybe one of Grandfather Helm’s Fae creature having a laugh at my expense. He continued walking for some time, climbing up small, rolling hills and ducking under fallen tree trunks, before reaching a final, gentle incline which led to Hidden Hill. That was where they found his older brother, Jasper, hanging from the tree at the top. That was the day his father had told him about the curse that stalked their family.
He made his way up the slope, as he had countless times before. The top of the hill was clear, save for one tree, planted by Karl’s grandfather Helm upon regaining control of the Wald after decades of Gaunt rule. His family adopted that tree, and made it part of their heraldry. A great black tree, sounded by the green of the forest.
The air seemed to resist being pulled into his lungs now. He had to unclench his teeth, relax his shoulders. He looked down at his fingers. He had scraped away the flesh near the nails on his thumbs and middle digits. How long have I been at it this time? It is difficult to relax when I am surrounded by some many painful reminders of the past. No matter how deep in this forest I walk, I cannot escape the memories that tears at me.
He kept his eyes low. Karl enjoyed seeing the blooming flowers and vibrant weeds that grew along the path he always walked. One particular group of plants caught his eye. A clover patch. The old folks said that in every clover patch, there was one particularly special sprout. And so Karl made a point to look over each and every patch he saw, even if only a passing glance.
What’s this? He said to the tiny green sprout as he crouched down for a closer look. A clover with four leaves. Lucky, lucky. Karl smiled as he plucked the clover and put it in his coin purse. And a good omen too. I know Otto will love this.
Karl continued up the path, and sat beneath the great black tree, looking out onto the castle that stood proud below in the clearing. Grey Hallow, it was called, and it was among the oldest in Bordrim, predating even the great fortresses of the Empire that many great houses now called their own. With two rings of thick, tall walls and towers covering every angle of approach, no enemy had ever successfully stormed the walls. Though a knife in the back is sometimes better than a ram at the gate, as history has proved.
Karl grabbed the now wet sack that Jorvis had provided. He quickly found a small knothole and stuffed the grisly offering side. The Dule clasped his hands together and bowed his head. “Haim, please take this offering that we may know quiet peace.” He sighed. Was Haim even real? Or just another story to make obedient children?
As Karl reclined in the unearthed roots of the black oak, he smiled. *Real or not, offerings to Haim aren’t all terrible.*This was the tree that he had married Matilda under, after he came back from the Siege of Hammerring, the last remaining Imperial stronghold in Bordrim. He had made a fortune by securing the ransoms of important Imperials, bringing House Klug from the embarrassment of near bankruptcy to extreme wealth in a single day. He had spent coins like a drunken gambler blessed with immovable luck that night, and from then on men had begun to say he was the richest man in the kingdom. I don’t know about any of that. But riches aren’t just measured in gold. Karl thought as he ran his fingers along the black bark of the tree.
Searching through the leather pack he took from his saddle, Karl grabbed the cloth that held the dried venison and cheese he had carried along for his breakfast. The castle will just be coming to life now. He thought as the sun began to climb higher in the sky. After he had broken his fast, he pulled a quill, a tightly sealed ink pot, and a piece of parchment from his sack. He began to write.
“Your smile, a joy
Your laugh, a pleasure.
When we are together,
Troubles are light as a feather.”
Karl would have a servant hide that among Matilda’s things, where she would discover it later. Even after fifteen years of marriage, Karl loved to create these little surprises for his wife, just as she loved finding his cumbersome gifts and clumsy poetry.
A long, steady drumming sounded over the tops of the trees, booming from the direction of Grey Hallow, but far beyond. In the west, birds squaked and scattered to the wind. By the cadence of their beat, Karl knew it was the Elves, come to pay their respects and receive letters of safe passage as required by the Pact. A little earlier than expected. No matter. I prefer early to late. No doubt my Chamberlain, Aldred, will have everything prepared. Karl sprang to his feet, dusted off his trousers, and rolled the dried parchment. He followed the path back to the castle at a quick pace, humming a song his Bard had sung the previous night while they slept under the stars.
The day had well and truly begun upon his return. Servants wearing the green and black of his house dashed about as their duties required. Men stood guard wearing the Great Black Tree of the Klugs on their livery. The halls were alive with chatter and the scuffing of feet. Karl knew a long line of petitioners awaited him in his hall, but everyone knew that an audience with elves took precedence over the squabbles of men. They had all heard the drums, and they would be pressed together like bees in a hive just for a glimpse of the pointy eared outlanders. Every year, young elves Elves embarked on a great journey that they called *THING* or “The Taste” in the Imperial tongue. They spent anywhere from one to one hundred years living among the mortals, learning their ways and customs. Some spent the rest of their millennia-long lives among the mortals, watching dynasties rise and fall, technological marvels stun the world, and should they be unfortunate enough to make friends or find lovers, they witness death on a scale previously unimaginable.
Lemba is due to return home by the end of the year. After seventy years of service to my family, he’s earned his rest. Perhaps one of the newcomers would like a position at court. I would very much like to continue my lessons. Karl flexed his fingers at the mere thought of magic. Outlawed in most realms of men, Karl had insisted on instruction. The training was hard and the consequences if discovered by the Church would be dire, but in a land as dangerous as the Wald, every advantage counted.
The drums boomed, growing louder as the elves approached closer. I must hurry. I cannot insult them by wearing the same clothes I just wore to an execution. Karl jogged down the path from whence he came. Wiglaf was holding Baldur by his reigns, and he snapped to attention the moment he saw Karl approach. “The drums my lo-”
“I heard. Ride ahead and have your father prepare clothing for court.”
“Right away, my lord.” The page said as he galloped away. Karl followed at a quick but more relaxed pace. No sense in appearing sweaty and exasperated for my guests. He reasoned as he rode down the winding path.
His servants were waiting at the gate for him. They grabbed their reins from Baldur, and Karl climbed down from the horse. “Andred has selected your clothing, m’lord. Right this way, if you please.” Onna, the fat seamstress said and she beckoned him to follow. She led him to the laundry, where Karl pulled the dirty articles he had worn for the execution and picked up the courtly clothing she had laid out. He pulled the white linen tunic on first and fasted it was a leather belt inlain with a large silver buckle. His slipped into brown wool trousers next and grabbed a pair of light leather boots. While I won’t appear filthy in front of my guests, high fashion is not something I care to waste my gold on.
Karl sat in his finely carved chair on the dais at the end of the hall. It sat to the right of an identical, but smaller chair where his wife sat*.* She wore a black and green dress with a modestly cut v-neck which exposed her pale skin. Her golden hair lay in one long braid along her shoulder. and her piercing blue eyes smiled back at Karl’s own green. This was the women he had fallen in love with the moment he first spoke to her. She had been less convinced, at first. While he had been the highest born of her many suitors, he had not been her first choice.
“I thought you were boring!” She would tease him later. “You barely said a word the first three times we met.”
“I was nervous.” He would reply. “You captured my heart and my wits that day in High Hibaltia.”
“Well, that wit is what won me. Perhaps I just borrowed it for a time.” She smiled.
Cleverness, justness, kindness. These are the things that make me love you.
The couple held each other's hands as they looked over the court. The chamberlain, Aldred, was quickly giving some last minute instructions to his son and another page, and they immediately scrambled to their work. Guards stood firmly at attention in front of the doors, knowing that they would be facing a hallway full of eager onlookers at any moment.
Their three children stood to the side, talking amongst themselves. Grimbold was the oldest. And doomed to die young, as my brother and uncle have. He was tall, taller than Karl even. He had the arms of a blacksmith’s apprentice and Karl’s own brown curls. He shared his mother’s sky blue eyes and slender nose, as well as her quick temper. He’ll want more responsibility soon. I’ve already denied him a squireship. Perhaps a minor position at court would assuage him.
Next to Grimbold was Charlotte, their only daughter. She too had Karl’s curly brown hair, but she wore it in a long braid, like her mother. She was just like Matilda, in fact. They were both skilled with numbers, and Charlotte’s fascination with bards rivaled Matilda’s own obsession. The two of them often pleaded with Karl to hire this performer or that one, and Duke Karl Klug, Lawspeaker of Bordrim, would not resist his girls, especially Charlotte. She had just turned fourteen, and would be expecting suitors soon. I doubt any of them would be worthy of her. The two of us share a thin patience for stupidity and love makes fools of us all. Especially this false, courtly love the Pawley’s have been peddling these last centuries.
And then there was Otto, the youngest of the three. He stood in between his brother and sister, obviously uncomfortable and being talked over. Nervous and shy, Otto had trouble making friends with children his age. He got along well enough with Wiglaf, but the two never actively sought each other out for play. Probably waiting for the other to make the first move. Karl thought to himself.
“Otto!” Karl yelled. The boy snapped nearly to attention. “Come here, lad. I have a surprise for you.” The boy warily came before his parents.
“Close your eyes and stick out your hands, Otto.” Matilda gently urged.
Otto did as he was told. “Karl dug around in his coin purse and pulled out the clover and a gold coin. He placed the two in Otto’s open palm.
His eyes beamed just before the rest of his face lit up. “Is it real?” He asked as he squealed at his gift.
“Just found it this morning. I figured, with you as my son, I already have all the luck I need.” Otto grinned wide, his missing baby teeth apparent in his otherwise toothy smirk. “Now, with that coin, I want you to find a book that we can read together. Would you like that?” “Yes, father! Yes, yes!” Otto exclaimed, almost shaking with excitement.
“Now get back to your place. The Elves will be here soon.:
“Yes, father!” Otto slipped the clover and coin into his own purse and hurried back to his siblings.
Matilda leaned over and kissed Karl on the forehead. “You’re a good man, Karl Klug.” His mind raced back to dawn, and the creaking of ropes. “I try to be, my love.” He kissed her forehead back. There was a commotion behind the doors to the hallway. It started as a low murmur, and then grew in size, becoming a roar of excitement.
Lemba, Karl’s tutor and resident Elf, took
The Elves had arrived.
Two figures, hooded in dark crimson cloaks, approached the dais. Less than a quarter of what I was told to expect. Behind them were six large, muscular, green skinned orcs bound together at wrist and ankle. Less than a tenth of what I had prepared for. Some Orcs had obviously suffered wounds in the recent past, black blood welling up through tightly wrapped bandages at shoulder, scalp, or thigh. Karl knew from past experience that were these wounds even a slight inconvenience to the Elves, the Orc would be killed with no more pity than lame donkey.
The two cloaked figures marched in a praticed cadence as they moved towards the Duke and Duchess. They all move like that in this room. Is it tradition? Or something more calculated? Lemba, can you enlighten me?
“In due time.” The elf’s voice answered in Karl’s mind. “For now, let us see who has survived the journey.
Karl cast a quick and silent spell to identify the travelers, his only tell was a twitch of the nose, which may have been mistaken for an aborted sneeze.
Viksna and Piske Dun Beske, twin siblings of a prominent Orhani family. Lemba leaned and whispered into Karl’s ear. “The youngest children of a powerful family of sorcerors. T
“Viksna and Piske you illuminate my land with your presence.” Karl’s voice boomed across the hall. It had been so long since he had shouted without magical amplification that he wondered if his throat could even yell anymore.
The two outsiders removed their hoods and stood with clasped hands and bowed heads. Their hair golden, their ears pointed, they were both of a similar height and build, shorter than most men in the room, and Karl could tell they were thin even under their robes.
“And you honor us with your hospitality, Lord Klug.” The pair said in unison.
“You’ve arrived sooner than expected. Was your trip pleasant?”
“We ran into some trouble with monsters, I’m afraid.” Piske said, matter of factly.
“ They devoured quite a few of our slaves.” Viksna added. And of course, the Shadow King must have his due. Our traveling companions were not to his liking. We two and The six Orcs you see behind us are all that is left, I’m afraid, out of the seventeen souls we departed with. Ah, yes. The older races call Haim by his title and dare not refer to him by name. A superstitious bunch, the Elves.
Three slaves for each of us is hardly fitting.” Piske scoffed.
“A shame. I will see that they are tended to. And my servants shall make up for your deficit. See these creatures to their quarters.” He ordered with a wave of his hand.
Guards cautiously herded the six chained beasts on the points of spears, but the broken creatures simply did as they were told and offered no resistance, not even a scowl. They were broken in mind and spirit, they simply existed to do as they were told. Even still, they looked as if they could crush a man’s skull without much effort, and so the guards insisted on caution. I cannot say I blame them.
The instant their slaves were gone from the room, the elves both went down to one knee, each pulling a small bundle from their cloaks. In unison they spoke. “We have come to pay tribute to the Lord of the Wald. Bordermaster, River Watcher, Upholder of the Pact. We offer these small tokens to you, Great Lord.”
Karl pushed up from his seat on the dais and walked towards the pair, gesturing them to stand. This well rehearsed speech never fails to delight my courtiers. “You have left your great capitol of Orhani to live amongst the lesser lived. You have endured freezing cold and driving rain. You have crossed river and mountain, field and fell, and traversed the Wald itself. You have fought beast and monster and seen many things that Man fears in his dreams. You have lost friends and companions along your way, and for that, you have our sympathy. However, all is not lost, and these deaths have not been in vain. You have proved yourselves worthy of fellowship through your very deeds. I bid you stand, as friends of Men.” The two figures stood, pulling back their hoods as the ritual demanded. They both looked as beautiful as painted godlings, young as if in their prime, though each must have seen a hundred years come and go.
The two approached, stepping slowly, deliberately, in unison to the dais where Karl sat. Piske stepped forward, leaving his sister still as a statue with her bundle still in her hands.
“For you, my lord. A gift.” He bowed and handed the package to Karl.
“Thank you, Piske.” Karl exchanged a rolled parchment for the gift. The container was small, and light. It could have been empty if Karl did not know better. He pulled the string holding everything together, and opened the paper wrapping. Inside was a ring, small and green, with all manner of beasts carved intricately on the sides.
“This is remarkable, Piske. You have my thanks.” Karl said as he turned the ring over in his hands. He spied an eagle, a fish, a rat, and a bear amongst the throng of creatures on the metal.
Piske looked to Lemba, eyes practically screaming for help. Lemba chuckled to himself for a moment and then cocked his head in Karl’s direction.
“May I approach, my lord?” the Elf asked in the elegant Elvish tongue, hands out stretched. Karl nodded his approval and he came forward. Piske leaned forward, taking the ring from the Lord’s hand and slipped the emerald ring onto his own left pointer finger.
“This ring is rather...peculiar, my lord. Observe.” The Elf cleared his throat and began to shout “Will one of you fellows come out? We’d like to make introductions.”
A heavy silence, followed by quiet, confused muttering amongst the onlookers. Then a shriek came from the rear of the crowd, growing louder and closer by the second.
That’s when it appeared before Karl’s eyes. It came forward at a run. Sharp claws, huge black eyes, and jagged yellow teeth.
“The ring summons rats?” Karl answered in Elvish in between laughs.
“Or maybe it makes the wearer forget his manners.” came a perfect Elvish reply from the rat. Karl’s eyes shot wide. Bhalik’s Maw. Did that rodent just speak? He regained his composure and looked around his court. Everyone was staring up at him. Had they all heard too?
“They can’t hear me, you big oaf. Only the ring bearer can.” Karl glanced at the green band around his finger. “My name is difficult to pronounce, but for the sake of simplicity, call me Ymaut. Piske tells me you have a rather large network of informants. How would you like to expand?
“We’ll discuss another time. Thank you, Piske. You honor me.”
Piske bowed. “Of course, my lord. My sister has brought you a gift as well” gesturing to his companion. He stepped back to take her place, while Viksna approached, bowed and held out her tribute. The thing she brought was bigger and heavier than her brother’s gift. When Karl had finished unwrapping it, he understood why.
“A Grimoire.” he said quietly.
“May I approach, my lord?” Karl nodded absently as he flipped through the pages.
Viksna whispered. “I am told you enjoy practicing magic. I would be happy to teach you, if you’d like.”
“This is too much to trade for a mere letter of safe conduct. Anything in my power to give you is yours, if you but name it.”
Viksna thought for only a brief moment. “Should there be an opening for a position in your court that I may be suitable for, I would like to enter your service.”
Lemba is leaving my service, to return to Outland. If you would care to remain here and assume his role upon his departure, I would welcome the company.” Karl said as he struggled to tear his eyes away from the book. That will be all for today. My servants will show you to your chambers. Should you want for anything at all, you need only ask and it is yours.”
The two bowed low. “You honor us, my lord.” the two Elves said as one. As they slowly walked from the hall, Karl’s Chamberlain, Aldred, whispered in his ear. “My lord, Sir Vanya has come to charge Baron Stevers as an oathbreaker. My duty calls. Karl thought, the grimoire still open in his hand.
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KARL 1
Three men stood beneath a great oak branch, hands bound and nooses pulled tight around their necks. The branches connected to a mighty tree, old as the mountains themselves. The men were all silent, as were the other corpses gently swinging in the morning breeze. The air was still cold from the dew, not yet banished by the still rising sun.
“If you have anything left to say, now would be the time.” Karl Klug, Lord of the Wald said as he eyed them with disgust from the back of his chestnut horse destrier. He sat tall in the saddle, his close cropped brown hair and clean shaven face a far cry from the ragged appearance of the condemned. His heavy, black, woolen cloak was pulled tight, the hood up to block out the wind. Under the cloak he wore a simple brown doublet, with a crest bearing the black tree on a green field that was the sigil of his house. Karl always made sure to represent House Klug when acting as Lord, as was his duty.
These men were thieves, rapists, and murderers. They attacked travelers on the roads of the Wald, and it was Karl’s duty, as Duke of the Wald and Lawspeaker to the King, to keep those roads safe. The law demanded only one punishment for their transgressions. Their fate would serve as a warning to other would-be bandits.
The first man, a stern face and hard eyes, said nothing, but spat on the ground. The second man, fat and whimpering, managed to speak out in between choked sobs “Please m’lord. Mercy! They made me do it!”
The last man, a boy no older than fifteen, barked at him to be quiet. “We’re done for Ozzy. Go to the Wainman with some dignity, would you?” Such bravery in one so young. What could he have become if he followed a different path?
With that, Karl nodded to Jorivs, his household Resolver, who pulled hard on the ropes, them each one by one into the air, sending them kicking and choking into the Beyond. The second one, Ozzy, screamed and begged for his mother before the rope cut him off. Jorivs tied the final line off to a stake, while Wolter, his barber-surgeon companion, scribbled something down in a book. “They go to their doom in all different spirits, yet they all dance the hangman’s jig just the same.” He said as he turned a page.
“Amazing the lessons they teach at Spierpont.” Jorvis chuckled as the last pair of legs stopped kicking. “Shame Lemba couldn’t join us.”
“The Elf has seen his fair share of death. Let him enjoy his peace.”
“I only jest, my lord.” Jorvis said as he took a sip from his canteen. He motioned for Wolter to take a drink, but the older man was too busy furiously scribbling in his notebook to notice.
Karl looked to the east. The dawn was still cresting the horizon. “I’m off to the woods. I will not be disturbed.” Matilda and the children will still be sleeping. Best not to wake them with my return.
His pages nodded and replied in unison “Yes my lord.” By Karl’s standing order, Jorvis was peeling the boots of the dead men, better they should shoe a pauper than rot on the condemned. Wolter sketched the hanging men in his book, taking special care to note the lolling tongues and soiled breeches. Jorvis had the boots in a loose pile when he pulled a knife and a small pouch from his belt. “The eyes,my lord?”
He nodded grimly. “Hain will have his due.” Jorvis took a small stool and set to work, all six organs removed in a few quick flashes of the blade. Jorvis placed the grim package in its usual place on Baldur, Karl’s horse. With the bloody sack tied to his saddle, Karl rode off towards the thick forest nearby, a page in tow to hold his horse.
The page started to speak, and then stopped himself. He was a small boy, ten or eleven at the most. He had been to several executions before and not once had he been troubled by the sight of death.
Karl noticed the indecisive boy and helped him along.
“Something bothering you, Wiglaf?”
“The” came a squeak. Wiglaf cleared his throat and tried again. “The Resolver grumbles, lord. He grumbles that it would be easier to take the eyes before hanging the condemned.” He said meekly
“I know he grumbles. I know. But this is the way things are to be done. Taking their eyes before they hang is not the punishment for their crime. These men had their trial, and I sentenced them to die, not to be tortured. Do you understand, Wiglaf?”
“Aye, my lord. I understand.” Wiglaf nodded.
Wiglaf. So eager to learn but so nervous to offend. I’ll talk to his father the next time we meet.
This was the first time in months he had a chance to take in the forest. The influx in banditry in the past year had been a great source of woe not only to Karl, but to the Waldish people as a whole. They had enough to be fearful of without their fellow man adding to their problems. It had kept Karl up many nights, as he racked his brain trying to figure out the cause.
He had built roads, sick houses, held fairs, endorsed the Bard’s college, done all in his power to keep the people happy and content and quiet, and yet, there were some who still turned to crime. Why? No. Not now. Not here. Karl decided that he needed to rest his mind from constant affairs of state, and allow himself to relax before he made his offering.
They reached a clearing, and Karl dismounted. “Hitch up Baldur and rub him down. Have something to eat from my pack if you get hungry. I don’t know how long I’ll be gone this time.” The page nodded. Wiglaf, a good lad, if a bit timid at times. Weather had concealed his typical path into the great forest, but muscle memory lead his way.
He enjoyed his solitary walks in the woods, it gave him a chance to forget the woes of rulership, the frustrations of fatherhood, and the horrible curse that befell his bloodline. Now that things had quieted down with the bandits, Karl hoped he might have more time to be a husband to his wife, Matilda, and a father to their children. His three children, though nearly adults themselves, still tended to make a commotion. What they need is a firm hand. Their mother will spoil them rotten if she has her way. Karl laughed to himself. She always gets her way.
His feet knew where he was going, even if his mind did not. He always returned to the same place, no matter what direction he turned. Are the woods themselves magic, or just the creatures that inhabit it? He wondered as he found the well worn dirt path covered by a tunnel of tree limbs. The branches must have kept this clear from storms after all.
Few who entered the Wald came back alive, save for the Elves and their slaves, who usually came out in one piece. Most who walked too far past the tree line simply vanished. There were rumors, of course. Even his own grandfather had claimed that he was, in fact, the same Helm Klug that had vanished without a trace in the winter of 542. He had fallen through a tree hollow and into the myth shrouded realm of Cunnan, where time flows differently, or so the stories go. As such, though ninety-five years had passed from the time of the vanishing, Helm had only aged ten years or so.
Karl’s realm was a dangerous one, even without the recent rise of the highwaymen. To an outsider, walking alone in the duchy of the Wald was like strolling past a dark alley with coins jingling loudly. To Karl Klug, Lord of the Wald, it was like walking into his own bedroom. He had grown up here, he knew that danger lurked behind every tree, above every branch, and below every root. Not once had he seen anything like what Grandfather Helm had rambled about. No fairies or witches or traces of Hain. Still, one had to tread carefully here. Even Karl would not dare to venture in some parts of the forest, for an ancient force still had power in the dark parts of Bordrim.
I hope Hain will be pleased with my tribute. To survive here, one had to know when to fight, when to run, and when to submit. Some might call that heretical, going against the word of the church, But that was not something he wished to think about now, not when he was trying to be at peace.
The fresh air cleared his head and refreshed his spirit. Karl took a long, deep breath filling his lungs with the cold morning damp. He knew he would not be distrubed here, as none but the Duke of the Wald may travel to this part of the woodland.
He had been Duke ever since the death of his father when he was just four years old, though he had not ruled in his own right until he was fourteen. In that time, he had learned much from his regents, and his mother, who was far more capable than many made her out to be. She had taught him that most men, however pure their intentions may seem, nearly always had some ulterior motive that they wished to advance. Karl remembered that as his most valuable lesson, and it had assisted him greatly as he came of age. My father’s sycophants did not last long when I ruled in my own right.
The sound of rushing water came to his ear as he walked by the River Cember where his father had drowned. He used to intentionally go out of his way to avoid being near it, but now he barely gave it a second glance. I used to be so afraid of the water, until I understood why Father died. But by then, Mother had the Court Elf Lembe throw me in Sillac Pond. How I thrashed! It didn’t seem so scary after that. Fate is far more terrifying than any danger and far more comforting than any joy. Once you have been through the worst, everything else can be done with ease.
Karl heard a branch snap in the trees to his right, and his hand slipped to the silver coated dagger at his hip. He stood still as the trees around him, slowly moving his eyes from right to left as he looked for the source of the noise. Funny. I was afraid of harmless water for so many years when there were very real threats all around me the entire time. As long as I stay on the path, no beast would dare harm me.
There were no further noises, and judging by the humming of insects and the singing of birds, there was no real threat. Probably a stag or maybe one of Grandfather Helm’s Fae creature having a laugh at my expense. He continued walking for some time, climbing up small, rolling hills and ducking under fallen tree trunks, before reaching a final, gentle incline which led to Hidden Hill. That was where they found his older brother, Jasper, hanging from the tree at the top. That was the day his father had told him about the curse that stalked their family.
He made his way up the slope, as he had countless times before. The top of the hill was clear, save for one tree, planted by Karl’s grandfather Helm upon regaining control of the Wald after decades of Gaunt rule. His family adopted that tree, and made it part of their heraldry. A great black tree, sounded by the green of the forest.
The air seemed to resist being pulled into his lungs now. He had to unclench his teeth, relax his shoulders. He looked down at his fingers. He had scraped away the flesh near the nails on his thumbs and middle digits. How long have I been at it this time? It is difficult to relax when I am surrounded by some many painful reminders of the past. No matter how deep in this forest I walk, I cannot escape the memories that tears at me.
He kept his eyes low. Karl enjoyed seeing the blooming flowers and vibrant weeds that grew along the path he always walked. One particular group of plants caught his eye. A clover patch. The old folks said that in every clover patch, there was one particularly special sprout. And so Karl made a point to look over each and every patch he saw, even if only a passing glance.
What’s this? He said to the tiny green sprout as he crouched down for a closer look. A clover with four leaves. Lucky, lucky. Karl smiled as he plucked the clover and put it in his coin purse. And a good omen too. I know Otto will love this.
Karl continued up the path, and sat beneath the great black tree, looking out onto the castle that stood proud below in the clearing. Grey Hallow, it was called, and it was among the oldest in Bordrim, predating even the great fortresses of the Empire that many great houses now called their own. With two rings of thick, tall walls and towers covering every angle of approach, no enemy had ever successfully stormed the walls. Though a knife in the back is sometimes better than a ram at the gate, as history has proved.
Karl grabbed the now wet sack that Jorvis had provided. He quickly found a small knothole and stuffed the grisly offering side. The Dule clasped his hands together and bowed his head. “Haim, please take this offering that we may know quiet peace.” He sighed. Was Haim even real? Or just another story to make obedient children?
As Karl reclined in the unearthed roots of the black oak, he smiled. *Real or not, offerings to Haim aren’t all terrible.*This was the tree that he had married Matilda under, after he came back from the Siege of Hammerring, the last remaining Imperial stronghold in Bordrim. He had made a fortune by securing the ransoms of important Imperials, bringing House Klug from the embarrassment of near bankruptcy to extreme wealth in a single day. He had spent coins like a drunken gambler blessed with immovable luck that night, and from then on men had begun to say he was the richest man in the kingdom. I don’t know about any of that. But riches aren’t just measured in gold. Karl thought as he ran his fingers along the black bark of the tree.
Searching through the leather pack he took from his saddle, Karl grabbed the cloth that held the dried venison and cheese he had carried along for his breakfast. The castle will just be coming to life now. He thought as the sun began to climb higher in the sky. After he had broken his fast, he pulled a quill, a tightly sealed ink pot, and a piece of parchment from his sack. He began to write.
“Your smile, a joy
Your laugh, a pleasure.
When we are together,
Troubles are light as a feather.”
Karl would have a servant hide that among Matilda’s things, where she would discover it later. Even after fifteen years of marriage, Karl loved to create these little surprises for his wife, just as she loved finding his cumbersome gifts and clumsy poetry.
A long, steady drumming sounded over the tops of the trees, booming from the direction of Grey Hallow, but far beyond. In the west, birds squaked and scattered to the wind. By the cadence of their beat, Karl knew it was the Elves, come to pay their respects and receive letters of safe passage as required by the Pact. A little earlier than expected. No matter. I prefer early to late. No doubt my Chamberlain, Aldred, will have everything prepared. Karl sprang to his feet, dusted off his trousers, and rolled the dried parchment. He followed the path back to the castle at a quick pace, humming a song his Bard had sung the previous night while they slept under the stars.
The day had well and truly begun upon his return. Servants wearing the green and black of his house dashed about as their duties required. Men stood guard wearing the Great Black Tree of the Klugs on their livery. The halls were alive with chatter and the scuffing of feet. Karl knew a long line of petitioners awaited him in his hall, but everyone knew that an audience with elves took precedence over the squabbles of men. They had all heard the drums, and they would be pressed together like bees in a hive just for a glimpse of the pointy eared outlanders. Every year, young elves Elves embarked on a great journey that they called *THING* or “The Taste” in the Imperial tongue. They spent anywhere from one to one hundred years living among the mortals, learning their ways and customs. Some spent the rest of their millennia-long lives among the mortals, watching dynasties rise and fall, technological marvels stun the world, and should they be unfortunate enough to make friends or find lovers, they witness death on a scale previously unimaginable.
Lemba is due to return home by the end of the year. After seventy years of service to my family, he’s earned his rest. Perhaps one of the newcomers would like a position at court. I would very much like to continue my lessons. Karl flexed his fingers at the mere thought of magic. Outlawed in most realms of men, Karl had insisted on instruction. The training was hard and the consequences if discovered by the Church would be dire, but in a land as dangerous as the Wald, every advantage counted.
The drums boomed, growing louder as the elves approached closer. I must hurry. I cannot insult them by wearing the same clothes I just wore to an execution. Karl jogged down the path from whence he came. Wiglaf was holding Baldur by his reigns, and he snapped to attention the moment he saw Karl approach. “The drums my lo-”
“I heard. Ride ahead and have your father prepare clothing for court.”
“Right away, my lord.” The page said as he galloped away. Karl followed at a quick but more relaxed pace. No sense in appearing sweaty and exasperated for my guests. He reasoned as he rode down the winding path.
His servants were waiting at the gate for him. They grabbed their reins from Baldur, and Karl climbed down from the horse. “Andred has selected your clothing, m’lord. Right this way, if you please.” Onna, the fat seamstress said and she beckoned him to follow. She led him to the laundry, where Karl pulled the dirty articles he had worn for the execution and picked up the courtly clothing she had laid out. He pulled the white linen tunic on first and fasted it was a leather belt inlain with a large silver buckle. His slipped into brown wool trousers next and grabbed a pair of light leather boots. While I won’t appear filthy in front of my guests, high fashion is not something I care to waste my gold on.
Karl sat in his finely carved chair on the dais at the end of the hall. It sat to the right of an identical, but smaller chair where his wife sat*.* She wore a black and green dress with a modestly cut v-neck which exposed her pale skin. Her golden hair lay in one long braid along her shoulder. and her piercing blue eyes smiled back at Karl’s own green. This was the women he had fallen in love with the moment he first spoke to her. She had been less convinced, at first. While he had been the highest born of her many suitors, he had not been her first choice.
“I thought you were boring!” She would tease him later. “You barely said a word the first three times we met.”
“I was nervous.” He would reply. “You captured my heart and my wits that day in High Hibaltia.”
“Well, that wit is what won me. Perhaps I just borrowed it for a time.” She smiled.
Cleverness, justness, kindness. These are the things that make me love you.
The couple held each other's hands as they looked over the court. The chamberlain, Aldred, was quickly giving some last minute instructions to his son and another page, and they immediately scrambled to their work. Guards stood firmly at attention in front of the doors, knowing that they would be facing a hallway full of eager onlookers at any moment.
Their three children stood to the side, talking amongst themselves. Grimbold was the oldest. And doomed to die young, as my brother and uncle have. He was tall, taller than Karl even. He had the arms of a blacksmith’s apprentice and Karl’s own brown curls. He shared his mother’s sky blue eyes and slender nose, as well as her quick temper. He’ll want more responsibility soon. I’ve already denied him a squireship. Perhaps a minor position at court would assuage him.
Next to Grimbold was Charlotte, their only daughter. She too had Karl’s curly brown hair, but she wore it in a long braid, like her mother. She was just like Matilda, in fact. They were both skilled with numbers, and Charlotte’s fascination with bards rivaled Matilda’s own obsession. The two of them often pleaded with Karl to hire this performer or that one, and Duke Karl Klug, Lawspeaker of Bordrim, would not resist his girls, especially Charlotte. She had just turned fourteen, and would be expecting suitors soon. I doubt any of them would be worthy of her. The two of us share a thin patience for stupidity and love makes fools of us all. Especially this false, courtly love the Pawley’s have been peddling these last centuries.
And then there was Otto, the youngest of the three. He stood in between his brother and sister, obviously uncomfortable and being talked over. Nervous and shy, Otto had trouble making friends with children his age. He got along well enough with Wiglaf, but the two never actively sought each other out for play. Probably waiting for the other to make the first move. Karl thought to himself.
“Otto!” Karl yelled. The boy snapped nearly to attention. “Come here, lad. I have a surprise for you.” The boy warily came before his parents.
“Close your eyes and stick out your hands, Otto.” Matilda gently urged.
Otto did as he was told. “Karl dug around in his coin purse and pulled out the clover and a gold coin. He placed the two in Otto’s open palm.
His eyes beamed just before the rest of his face lit up. “Is it real?” He asked as he squealed at his gift.
“Just found it this morning. I figured, with you as my son, I already have all the luck I need.” Otto grinned wide, his missing baby teeth apparent in his otherwise toothy smirk. “Now, with that coin, I want you to find a book that we can read together. Would you like that?” “Yes, father! Yes, yes!” Otto exclaimed, almost shaking with excitement.
“Now get back to your place. The Elves will be here soon.:
“Yes, father!” Otto slipped the clover and coin into his own purse and hurried back to his siblings.
Matilda leaned over and kissed Karl on the forehead. “You’re a good man, Karl Klug.” His mind raced back to dawn, and the creaking of ropes. “I try to be, my love.” He kissed her forehead back. There was a commotion behind the doors to the hallway. It started as a low murmur, and then grew in size, becoming a roar of excitement.
Lemba, Karl’s tutor and resident Elf, took
The Elves had arrived.
Two figures, hooded in dark crimson cloaks, approached the dais. Less than a quarter of what I was told to expect. Behind them were six large, muscular, green skinned orcs bound together at wrist and ankle. Less than a tenth of what I had prepared for. Some Orcs had obviously suffered wounds in the recent past, black blood welling up through tightly wrapped bandages at shoulder, scalp, or thigh. Karl knew from past experience that were these wounds even a slight inconvenience to the Elves, the Orc would be killed with no more pity than lame donkey.
The two cloaked figures marched in a praticed cadence as they moved towards the Duke and Duchess. They all move like that in this room. Is it tradition? Or something more calculated? Lemba, can you enlighten me?
“In due time.” The elf’s voice answered in Karl’s mind. “For now, let us see who has survived the journey.
Karl cast a quick and silent spell to identify the travelers, his only tell was a twitch of the nose, which may have been mistaken for an aborted sneeze.
Viksna and Piske Dun Beske, twin siblings of a prominent Orhani family. Lemba leaned and whispered into Karl’s ear. “The youngest children of a powerful family of sorcerors. T
“Viksna and Piske you illuminate my land with your presence.” Karl’s voice boomed across the hall. It had been so long since he had shouted without magical amplification that he wondered if his throat could even yell anymore.
The two outsiders removed their hoods and stood with clasped hands and bowed heads. Their hair golden, their ears pointed, they were both of a similar height and build, shorter than most men in the room, and Karl could tell they were thin even under their robes.
“And you honor us with your hospitality, Lord Klug.” The pair said in unison.
“You’ve arrived sooner than expected. Was your trip pleasant?”
“We ran into some trouble with monsters, I’m afraid.” Piske said, matter of factly.
“ They devoured quite a few of our slaves.” Viksna added. And of course, the Shadow King must have his due. Our traveling companions were not to his liking. We two and The six Orcs you see behind us are all that is left, I’m afraid, out of the seventeen souls we departed with. Ah, yes. The older races call Haim by his title and dare not refer to him by name. A superstitious bunch, the Elves.
Three slaves for each of us is hardly fitting.” Piske scoffed.
“A shame. I will see that they are tended to. And my servants shall make up for your deficit. See these creatures to their quarters.” He ordered with a wave of his hand.
Guards cautiously herded the six chained beasts on the points of spears, but the broken creatures simply did as they were told and offered no resistance, not even a scowl. They were broken in mind and spirit, they simply existed to do as they were told. Even still, they looked as if they could crush a man’s skull without much effort, and so the guards insisted on caution. I cannot say I blame them.
The instant their slaves were gone from the room, the elves both went down to one knee, each pulling a small bundle from their cloaks. In unison they spoke. “We have come to pay tribute to the Lord of the Wald. Bordermaster, River Watcher, Upholder of the Pact. We offer these small tokens to you, Great Lord.”
Karl pushed up from his seat on the dais and walked towards the pair, gesturing them to stand. This well rehearsed speech never fails to delight my courtiers. “You have left your great capitol of Orhani to live amongst the lesser lived. You have endured freezing cold and driving rain. You have crossed river and mountain, field and fell, and traversed the Wald itself. You have fought beast and monster and seen many things that Man fears in his dreams. You have lost friends and companions along your way, and for that, you have our sympathy. However, all is not lost, and these deaths have not been in vain. You have proved yourselves worthy of fellowship through your very deeds. I bid you stand, as friends of Men.” The two figures stood, pulling back their hoods as the ritual demanded. They both looked as beautiful as painted godlings, young as if in their prime, though each must have seen a hundred years come and go.
The two approached, stepping slowly, deliberately, in unison to the dais where Karl sat. Piske stepped forward, leaving his sister still as a statue with her bundle still in her hands.
“For you, my lord. A gift.” He bowed and handed the package to Karl.
“Thank you, Piske.” Karl exchanged a rolled parchment for the gift. The container was small, and light. It could have been empty if Karl did not know better. He pulled the string holding everything together, and opened the paper wrapping. Inside was a ring, small and green, with all manner of beasts carved intricately on the sides.
“This is remarkable, Piske. You have my thanks.” Karl said as he turned the ring over in his hands. He spied an eagle, a fish, a rat, and a bear amongst the throng of creatures on the metal.
Piske looked to Lemba, eyes practically screaming for help. Lemba chuckled to himself for a moment and then cocked his head in Karl’s direction.
“May I approach, my lord?” the Elf asked in the elegant Elvish tongue, hands out stretched. Karl nodded his approval and he came forward. Piske leaned forward, taking the ring from the Lord’s hand and slipped the emerald ring onto his own left pointer finger.
“This ring is rather...peculiar, my lord. Observe.” The Elf cleared his throat and began to shout “Will one of you fellows come out? We’d like to make introductions.”
A heavy silence, followed by quiet, confused muttering amongst the onlookers. Then a shriek came from the rear of the crowd, growing louder and closer by the second.
That’s when it appeared before Karl’s eyes. It came forward at a run. Sharp claws, huge black eyes, and jagged yellow teeth.
“The ring summons rats?” Karl answered in Elvish in between laughs.
“Or maybe it makes the wearer forget his manners.” came a perfect Elvish reply from the rat. Karl’s eyes shot wide. Bhalik’s Maw. Did that rodent just speak? He regained his composure and looked around his court. Everyone was staring up at him. Had they all heard too?
“They can’t hear me, you big oaf. Only the ring bearer can.” Karl glanced at the green band around his finger. “My name is difficult to pronounce, but for the sake of simplicity, call me Ymaut. Piske tells me you have a rather large network of informants. How would you like to expand?
“We’ll discuss another time. Thank you, Piske. You honor me.”
Piske bowed. “Of course, my lord. My sister has brought you a gift as well” gesturing to his companion. He stepped back to take her place, while Viksna approached, bowed and held out her tribute. The thing she brought was bigger and heavier than her brother’s gift. When Karl had finished unwrapping it, he understood why.
“A Grimoire.” he said quietly.
“May I approach, my lord?” Karl nodded absently as he flipped through the pages.
Viksna whispered. “I am told you enjoy practicing magic. I would be happy to teach you, if you’d like.”
“This is too much to trade for a mere letter of safe conduct. Anything in my power to give you is yours, if you but name it.”
Viksna thought for only a brief moment. “Should there be an opening for a position in your court that I may be suitable for, I would like to enter your service.”
Lemba is leaving my service, to return to Outland. If you would care to remain here and assume his role upon his departure, I would welcome the company.” Karl said as he struggled to tear his eyes away from the book. That will be all for today. My servants will show you to your chambers. Should you want for anything at all, you need only ask and it is yours.”
The two bowed low. “You honor us, my lord.” the two Elves said as one. As they slowly walked from the hall, Karl’s Chamberlain, Aldred, whispered in his ear. “My lord, Sir Vanya has come to charge Baron Stevers as an oathbreaker. My duty calls. Karl thought, the grimoire still open in his hand.
2024.05.28 02:17 Migraine_Brain_123 Lots of strange symptoms spanning multiple specialties Neurology, ENT, GI, ...
I suspect that all of my symptoms are connected, but they span lots of different specialties and it's impossible to get all my doctors together to go over things. So I'd like to know what you think and in particular answers to any of these questions:
Everything listed here I have had since I was an early teenager, all starting around that time. None have had any particular identifiable trigger.
Sorry this is a bit long, I'm trying to be comprehensive.
39M, 160 lbs, 5'11", white, in okay shape. Don't drink, smoke, or do drugs. I eat fine, don't eat out, and drink plenty of water. Drink a few cups of green tea per day, occasionally a coffee in the morning. Rarely drink soda. Generally take care of myself.
IBS
It's about 50/50 constipation/diarrhea. I have symptoms from it every day. I'd say about 1/3 of the time its not that bad, 1/3 moderately bad, and 1/3 severe.
I have significant pain and bloating when it's acting up. Pencil-thin stools. Sometimes diarrhea and constipation at the same time, like I have to strain to get very liquidy diarrhea out.
There is also very significant distention. When it's not bothering me, my stomach looks flat, and when it is I can look fairly overweight, like a beer belly. I've never found anything that helps with this.
I've tried every elimination diet known to man, and nothing has helped. I haven't found any food triggers or other specific triggers. But just eating or drinking can trigger it. Sometimes I'll feel fine and take a sip of water, and a minute later I feel awful.
The IBS symptoms feel significantly different than "normal" GI problems, I can't describe how, but it feels more "wrong" than regular constipation, bloating, diarrhea, etc.
Medications:
50mg of CBD 2x/day, and it's the only thing that's ever helped with the IBS pain.
Pepcid 1x/day from acid reflux, presumably from the IBS.
Imodium, few times a week.
In the past I've tried tricyclic antidepressants, Bentyl, and some other stuff I don't remember, which weren't helpful.
IBS aura
Sometimes in the morning I will have a strange dream-like experience. It's not a dream per se, but I'm asleep, and it feels like one, but with no imagery or anything. There's an intense feeling of unreality and dissociation that comes along with it. I'd describe it as kind of similar to the strange feeling that comes with a migraine aura, but much more intense and much much weirder.
When I wake up, I feel extremely sleepy and confused for a few moments, but physically completely fine. Then after about a minute, I'm overwhelmed with sudden, immediate, incapacitating IBS pain. The pain will last all day, and is by far the worse IBS pain I get. It happens once or twice a year. And always exactly like this (e.g., never when I'm awake, or after a nap.)
I don't get anything like that "aura" preceding normal IBS symptoms.
Migraine with aura
The aura is a dark spot starting on the lower-right of my field of vision which increases to fill about 1/3 of the lower right-hand side. Random smaller dark spots appear across my field of vision, and sometimes small point-like scintillating spots.
Pain is also localized on the right-hand side just behind my eye, extending backwards for a bit, and I'd typically describe as throbbing.
The migraines come and go. I might have them every day for weeks, then none for months or years. But typically it's several a month.
I also have frequent regular headaches, several a week.
Neurological workup is fine otherwise.
Medications:
Cymbalta 60mg 1/day, as a preventative. It works okay.
Sumatriptan, when needed. Also works okay, both together make a migraine tolerable but still bothersome.
Eustachian tube dysfunction / objective tinnitus
In both ears, but primarily the right ear, I have Eustachian tube dysfunction. The tubes are closed most of the time, like I have a cold. I do the Valsalva maneuver several times a day to help. There's no fluid buildup though.
Often I hear a rumbling sound in my ears that is nearly identical to what you hear when you yawn. When this happens, by placing my finger just in front of my ear I can clearly feel something twitching, there's significant movement. Pressing with moderate force typically stops it.
It's extremely irritating and distracting, but doesn't seem to hurt my hearing. AFAIK nothing triggers the rumbling, and the only thing that stops it is pressure. It's mostly bothersome at night. I've been tested for allergies, and didn't find any serious ones.
Very occasionally, my ears ring for a few seconds or minutes. Sometimes the background "tone" changes, like when a bad movie cuts from one person's dialogue to someone else's and it feels like it doesn't match.
Deviated septum
A year ago I had a septoplasty and inferior turbinate reduction to correct a deviated septum I'd had since I was a kid, making it increasingly hard to breathe out of my right nostril. Covering the left nostril and breathing out of the right would make me feel like I was suffocating. AFAIK there was no trauma that caused this.
CT scans didn't show any sinusitis or inflammation and septal deviation was "moderate."
Surgery went great and it's much better, but the right-hand side still feels like there's less throughput. I can feel this clearly if I block one nostril and exhale out the other. The ENT says that there're no obstructions or other reasons he can see for this and doesn't know why it's happening. I'd say the right nostril has like 75% of the throughput of the left one.
ADHD/Anxiety/Depression
I've also been diagnosed with ADHD, the inattentive type.
Also anxiety and depression. As a teenager they were more severe, now they're more manageable. Saw psychologists for years but don't anymore.
I've tried several SSRI/SNRIs, and none of them have helped at all. But they have had sexual side effects of significantly decreased libido and difficulty maintaining erections. I still get erections in the mornings fine. Without the drugs I've never had these problems. They also made me pretty anhedonic in the long-run.
Medications:
I take Vyvanse 40 mg, a few times a week for the ADHD symptoms. I'd take it more frequently, but it causes the same sexual side-effects as the SSRI/SNRIs. For some reason the Vyvanse almost completely eliminates my anxiety within about an hour of taking it.
Cialis 5mg, for sexual side-effects, but it's only a little helpful.
Weird symptoms
I haven't had a diagnosis associated with any of these. I've had these all since I was a kid/teenager.
Probably not related to anything, but for completeness. I've also had all of these since I was a kid/teenager.
I've had so many tests I can't think of them all. They always come back normal, with the exception of low vitamin D (19).
I had lots of tests for IBS as a teenager, including uppelower GIs, and a bunch other I don't remember.
Recently had comprehensive metabolic panel, thyroid tests, testosterone test, estradiol test, and a bunch of STD tests. All normal, but Glucose is in the high 90s (but it's always been < 99) and cholesterol is a little high.
Blood pressure is on the high end of normal, resting heart rate is in the 80s.
My Apple watch says my EEG is fine, SpO2 is fine, and sleep is fine with no interruptions and no drops in SpO2 or respiration rate.
Other daily medications
Fexofenadine, multivitamin
submitted by Migraine_Brain_123 to AskDocs [link] [comments]
- Why does my skin turn purple? What is this rash?
- What is this weird IBS "aura"? Is it a kind of migraine? Why doesn't it happen with normal attacks?
- Can I do anything about the IBS distention?
- Why is so much wrong on the right side of my body? And why mostly on my face and head? Did I have a stroke?
- Is my objective tinnitus "twitching" and Eustachian tube dysfunction related to migraines?
- Why do I have difficulty breathing out of the right nostril even with no obstructions and a clear CT scan with no inflammation? There's clearly less throughput through the right nostril.
- Why do I randomly have extreme fatigue?
- What the hell is going on with the weird symptoms?
- What other treatments or tests should I try, given that my Drs have tried all the obvious ones, since I was a kid?
Everything listed here I have had since I was an early teenager, all starting around that time. None have had any particular identifiable trigger.
Sorry this is a bit long, I'm trying to be comprehensive.
39M, 160 lbs, 5'11", white, in okay shape. Don't drink, smoke, or do drugs. I eat fine, don't eat out, and drink plenty of water. Drink a few cups of green tea per day, occasionally a coffee in the morning. Rarely drink soda. Generally take care of myself.
IBS
It's about 50/50 constipation/diarrhea. I have symptoms from it every day. I'd say about 1/3 of the time its not that bad, 1/3 moderately bad, and 1/3 severe.
I have significant pain and bloating when it's acting up. Pencil-thin stools. Sometimes diarrhea and constipation at the same time, like I have to strain to get very liquidy diarrhea out.
There is also very significant distention. When it's not bothering me, my stomach looks flat, and when it is I can look fairly overweight, like a beer belly. I've never found anything that helps with this.
I've tried every elimination diet known to man, and nothing has helped. I haven't found any food triggers or other specific triggers. But just eating or drinking can trigger it. Sometimes I'll feel fine and take a sip of water, and a minute later I feel awful.
The IBS symptoms feel significantly different than "normal" GI problems, I can't describe how, but it feels more "wrong" than regular constipation, bloating, diarrhea, etc.
Medications:
50mg of CBD 2x/day, and it's the only thing that's ever helped with the IBS pain.
Pepcid 1x/day from acid reflux, presumably from the IBS.
Imodium, few times a week.
In the past I've tried tricyclic antidepressants, Bentyl, and some other stuff I don't remember, which weren't helpful.
IBS aura
Sometimes in the morning I will have a strange dream-like experience. It's not a dream per se, but I'm asleep, and it feels like one, but with no imagery or anything. There's an intense feeling of unreality and dissociation that comes along with it. I'd describe it as kind of similar to the strange feeling that comes with a migraine aura, but much more intense and much much weirder.
When I wake up, I feel extremely sleepy and confused for a few moments, but physically completely fine. Then after about a minute, I'm overwhelmed with sudden, immediate, incapacitating IBS pain. The pain will last all day, and is by far the worse IBS pain I get. It happens once or twice a year. And always exactly like this (e.g., never when I'm awake, or after a nap.)
I don't get anything like that "aura" preceding normal IBS symptoms.
Migraine with aura
The aura is a dark spot starting on the lower-right of my field of vision which increases to fill about 1/3 of the lower right-hand side. Random smaller dark spots appear across my field of vision, and sometimes small point-like scintillating spots.
Pain is also localized on the right-hand side just behind my eye, extending backwards for a bit, and I'd typically describe as throbbing.
The migraines come and go. I might have them every day for weeks, then none for months or years. But typically it's several a month.
I also have frequent regular headaches, several a week.
Neurological workup is fine otherwise.
Medications:
Cymbalta 60mg 1/day, as a preventative. It works okay.
Sumatriptan, when needed. Also works okay, both together make a migraine tolerable but still bothersome.
Eustachian tube dysfunction / objective tinnitus
In both ears, but primarily the right ear, I have Eustachian tube dysfunction. The tubes are closed most of the time, like I have a cold. I do the Valsalva maneuver several times a day to help. There's no fluid buildup though.
Often I hear a rumbling sound in my ears that is nearly identical to what you hear when you yawn. When this happens, by placing my finger just in front of my ear I can clearly feel something twitching, there's significant movement. Pressing with moderate force typically stops it.
It's extremely irritating and distracting, but doesn't seem to hurt my hearing. AFAIK nothing triggers the rumbling, and the only thing that stops it is pressure. It's mostly bothersome at night. I've been tested for allergies, and didn't find any serious ones.
Very occasionally, my ears ring for a few seconds or minutes. Sometimes the background "tone" changes, like when a bad movie cuts from one person's dialogue to someone else's and it feels like it doesn't match.
Deviated septum
A year ago I had a septoplasty and inferior turbinate reduction to correct a deviated septum I'd had since I was a kid, making it increasingly hard to breathe out of my right nostril. Covering the left nostril and breathing out of the right would make me feel like I was suffocating. AFAIK there was no trauma that caused this.
CT scans didn't show any sinusitis or inflammation and septal deviation was "moderate."
Surgery went great and it's much better, but the right-hand side still feels like there's less throughput. I can feel this clearly if I block one nostril and exhale out the other. The ENT says that there're no obstructions or other reasons he can see for this and doesn't know why it's happening. I'd say the right nostril has like 75% of the throughput of the left one.
ADHD/Anxiety/Depression
I've also been diagnosed with ADHD, the inattentive type.
Also anxiety and depression. As a teenager they were more severe, now they're more manageable. Saw psychologists for years but don't anymore.
I've tried several SSRI/SNRIs, and none of them have helped at all. But they have had sexual side effects of significantly decreased libido and difficulty maintaining erections. I still get erections in the mornings fine. Without the drugs I've never had these problems. They also made me pretty anhedonic in the long-run.
Medications:
I take Vyvanse 40 mg, a few times a week for the ADHD symptoms. I'd take it more frequently, but it causes the same sexual side-effects as the SSRI/SNRIs. For some reason the Vyvanse almost completely eliminates my anxiety within about an hour of taking it.
Cialis 5mg, for sexual side-effects, but it's only a little helpful.
Weird symptoms
I haven't had a diagnosis associated with any of these. I've had these all since I was a kid/teenager.
- The skin on my hands, arms, feet, and legs occasionally gets this strange mottled look, with red/purple/white splotches, about .5 cm across. It looks alarming, but is not painful and no other symptoms are associated with it. No particular trigger for it.
- Sometimes, after exercise or moderate physical activity (e.g., a causal walk) my body feels numb and clumsy, and my fingers looks significantly puffy and swollen (not just the joints, the whole finger). Other joints feel stiff and swollen, but don't look like it as much.
- Face has a slightly red, rash-like area, like a butterfly rash except it extends into the crease along my nose, and is mostly on the cheekbone area. It's red like a mild sunburn, or when someone's face gets red when they drink. I get acne in this same area frequently too.
- The right side of my face feels "weird", I don't know how to describe it. There's no difference in sensation on my skin though, it's just an internal feeling. It's also slightly harder to move the right side of my face, for example my smile is asymmetric.
- I have a lot of extreme fatigue for no reason. Some days it's hard to do anything. Other days are totally fine. Brain fog semi-frequently. The fatigue feels significantly different than "regular" fatigue. Most days I feel roughly like I have a low-level flu.
- I get lots of strange aches and pains. A lot of joint soreness and stiffness, particularly hips, knees, elbows, and fingers. Sometimes finger joints are obviously swollen when they're achy, but not usually, and cracking my knuckles usually helps. Sometimes areas of my skin will feel sore or have a burning feeling (most commonly my forearms and the top of my head). Sometimes stabbing pain in a random tooth that lasts for less than a second. I took pregabalin for a while and it was moderately helpful, but I had to stop because it made me forget words.
- Sometimes have difficulty peeing, I've been told that's probably related to the IBS.
- I am sensitive to a lot of drugs, and typically need smaller-than-normal doses. Side-effects are also worse. Opioid pain killers make me extremely nauseous and vomit and so does general anesthesia. The anti-nausea drugs drs give me when I complain help with the anesthesia but not the opioids.
- Some drugs don't seem to have much of an affect on me at all, e.g., over-the-counter pain killers do almost nothing for any pain I have, even regular cuts-and-bruises.
Probably not related to anything, but for completeness. I've also had all of these since I was a kid/teenager.
- My fingernails have vertical ridges in them and are brittle. Toenails don't have this and aren't brittle.
- Fingernails are also smaller than normal, like maybe half the height? Toenails are normal size, except for the little toe which has a ridiculously tiny nail.
- Flat feet, and sometimes when walking I feel a sharp, painful "tearing" feeling running down the center of the foot from just below the toes to just before the heel. Oddly, if this happens, running feels totally fine. The "tearing" happens on the right foot 90% of the time.
- Joints all hyperextend.
- Generally high pain threshold, except on areas of my body that are sore/achy, where I'm very sensitive, or when IBS pain is acting up, where I'm sensitive all over.
- Occasionally I wake up at night extremely thirsty. Like I'm dying of thirst. I have to guzzle water.
- Lots of cavities, and gums have slightly receded in places.
- Random muscle twitches in the thighs, sometimes upper chest or upper arms.
- Lots of stretchmarks on my sides and stomach from when I was a young teenager. Was never overweight and didn't have a sudden growth spurt or anything when they appeared, but was taking Accutane for severe acne at the time.
- Multiple hairs grow next to each other, spaced a hair's width or so apart, like there's a cluster of hair follicles instead of just one. Hairy chest, back, and butt.
- Natural sleep cycle is very late, going to bed ~4am. (Sleeping on this schedule doesn't improve anything.)
- Penis slightly curved. Not enough to cause any problems but noticeable.
- Right-handed, but am left-eye dominant.
- Nearsighted.
- Maternal grandfather -- Lupus
- Maternal aunt -- Rheumatoid arthritis, migraines
- Maternal uncle -- Chron's
- Half-sister from mother -- Psoriatic arthritis
- Father -- Hypertension, heart attack
- Paternal grandmother -- Fibromyalgia
I've had so many tests I can't think of them all. They always come back normal, with the exception of low vitamin D (19).
I had lots of tests for IBS as a teenager, including uppelower GIs, and a bunch other I don't remember.
Recently had comprehensive metabolic panel, thyroid tests, testosterone test, estradiol test, and a bunch of STD tests. All normal, but Glucose is in the high 90s (but it's always been < 99) and cholesterol is a little high.
Blood pressure is on the high end of normal, resting heart rate is in the 80s.
My Apple watch says my EEG is fine, SpO2 is fine, and sleep is fine with no interruptions and no drops in SpO2 or respiration rate.
Other daily medications
Fexofenadine, multivitamin
2024.05.28 01:57 Upbeat_Elderberry559 What is causing me wanting to rip off my arm?
21F / 5'3 / 127lbs
2.5 months ago, I started to have occasional pain under my right shoulder blade. Now, the pain is sharp and constant and extends to the top of my right shoulder and the right side of my neck. I guess I would describe it as gnawing pain.
I also have stiffness and muscle pain when I extend my right wrist, straighten my elbow, or stretch out my fingers (similar pain in my ankles, not sure if it’s related).
Occasionally, there’s tingling around my right scapula. My left shoulder and arm are unaffected.
I can’t lift my right arm fully over my head without my elbow bending, and reduced rotation and abduction of my shoulder. The pain is consistent throughout the day, regardless of activity.
Blood tests revealed elevated CK levels (initial 532u/L, 3 days later 661u/L, 2.5 weeks later 255u/L), while other tests including CRP, B12, rheumatoid factor, creatinine, ALT, and TSH were normal. X-rays of my shoulder, knees, and hips, as well as an ultrasound of my shoulder, showed no abnormalities.
I don't lead a particularly active lifestyle and can't recall any specific injury or repetitive arm motions that could have caused this.
submitted by Upbeat_Elderberry559 to DiagnoseMe [link] [comments]
2.5 months ago, I started to have occasional pain under my right shoulder blade. Now, the pain is sharp and constant and extends to the top of my right shoulder and the right side of my neck. I guess I would describe it as gnawing pain.
I also have stiffness and muscle pain when I extend my right wrist, straighten my elbow, or stretch out my fingers (similar pain in my ankles, not sure if it’s related).
Occasionally, there’s tingling around my right scapula. My left shoulder and arm are unaffected.
I can’t lift my right arm fully over my head without my elbow bending, and reduced rotation and abduction of my shoulder. The pain is consistent throughout the day, regardless of activity.
Blood tests revealed elevated CK levels (initial 532u/L, 3 days later 661u/L, 2.5 weeks later 255u/L), while other tests including CRP, B12, rheumatoid factor, creatinine, ALT, and TSH were normal. X-rays of my shoulder, knees, and hips, as well as an ultrasound of my shoulder, showed no abnormalities.
I don't lead a particularly active lifestyle and can't recall any specific injury or repetitive arm motions that could have caused this.
2024.05.28 01:48 Spike_Flings The Corpse In the Crater
They clung to the edge of the shell crater like a drowning man to driftwood. The rattle of the MG 08’s and the shriek and boom of artillery muffled all the shouts and cries and screams. A burst of bullets skipped across the top of the hole like a smooth stone across a calm lake. They heard a whistling like a distant kettle and then heard nothing but an almighty ringing in their ears, their very minds.
“Are you hit?” Tommy screamed over the chaos of the battlefield. William’s hearing came back in He fired one, twice from the lip of the defilade, not aiming at any spot in particular, just in the general area that the Germans were in. Squeeze the trigger, work the bolt, don’t look at the rotting corpse to your left. Just keep the rhythm. William thought. Just like training.
William patted himself down. He checked his chest, his legs. He felt wet down the leg of his trousers. Blood from a wound he feared, the mud of No Man’s Land he hoped, piss from fear he knew.
Tommy’s Springfield Rifle lay some yards away, half submerged in stagnant crater water, the butt splintered from a machine gun bullet.
“I don’t think…no, I’m okay. I’m fine.” William called. His fingers continued to search along his kit. His canteen had been struck; what little water he had left sloshed below the impact line. That thin, metal bottle had stopped much of the force of the bullet. It had probably been a ricochet anyway. He pressed his side. Blinding light and a feeling in his throat like he might hurl confirmed his fears.
A flash and roar like a thunderstorm from Hell erupted above them. And again. And again. William clasped his hands over his ears and screamed. He screamed for God, he screamed for his mother, he screamed for anyone or anything that could make it stop.
He could not die. Not here. Not in some devastated spit of land thousands of miles from home. Not while Martha waited for him. And not next to this carcass.
The body had been dead for some time, maybe even since the start of the war. A mud splattered uniform made him impossible to identify. His helmet, along with the entire top of his head, had been blasted into a ruin of metal and bone. His eyes had rotted away, or else been picked clean by the legion of rats that infested the area.
And suddenly, it grew quiet. The guns had stopped. And in that silence, the horror grew. Groans, moans, screeching horses and screaming men.
Dirt had showered William. It got on his neck, down his shirt, it stuck to his sweat soaked face and piss and blood stained pants like metal to a magnet.
William’s eyes grew wide as he saw the red-brown patch on Tommy’s side grow. “Oh, Christ!” He scrambled over the dirt and debris to his friend. “Tommy, your mask!” There was a chunk of shrapnel the size of William’s fist through the glass lense of the right eye socket of Tommy’s gas mask. It had punched clean through and lodged in his hip.
“I’m okay. I mean I’ve been hit, but I’m not dying here. The Germans haven’t deployed gas. Listen…no gas gong. We’re okay, Will.”
There were more screams now, more choking some muffled, all very human in their commiseration.
The corpse in the shell hole seemed to turn to look at William now, its eyeless sockets fixed right on him. Look up. William heard the voice in his mind, clear as if Tommy had said it.
William crawled away from Tommy and carefully, slowly, peered over the top.
It seemed like fog at first. It had a similar consistency. A sort of soupy, yellow-brown cloud was approaching, rolling over men and horses and devastation, inevitable as the ocean tide.
Gas. Mustard gas by the look of it. A mere touch causes your skin to blister. William did not want to imagine what happened if you inhaled it.
“Tommy! Gas!”
Thomas Totman, Private First Class, Brother, Son, William Lafevre’s best friend, drew his trench knife and advanced.
The blade was nicked from use. The brass knuckles attached to the handle, so proudly maintained through the first weeks of combat, were worn and cracked in places. But that blade was sharp. Sharp as the day was long. And today was July 4th, not far from the longest day of the year.
The knife cut through cloth and flesh as if they were butter. It sank to the hilt, retreated, and charged in again with the same ease as before. William went stiff and half rolled, half tumbled down the crater, next to the skeletal remains of one who came before.
The eyeless face, the exposed jaw and teeth, all seemed to grin at William as blood bubbled from his lips.
Tommy was on him again, though this time with searching hands. William tried to push him away, but his arms felt funny, his fingers numb.
Tommy snatched the rubber gas mask from William’s hip. It amazed him that something so small, so fragile, so unknown to them both until a few months ago, would not only destroy their decades long friendship, but also end his life.
Tommy pulled the mask on, squeezing it over his head and checking to make sure it sealed properly. Then he sat, pulled his legs to his chest and rocked back and forth, his breath misting the lenses.
The gas rolled over the lip of the crater, the smoke of a million cigarettes blown down a narrow stairwell. William tried to crawl away, maybe to the dead man, maybe he had a working mask.
His chest was screaming, begging for relief, and his useless arms did nothing but twitch at his side. The dead man’s jaw slammed open like a drawbridge, and he started laughing, cackling, as the gas descended to the bottom of the crater.
submitted by Spike_Flings to scaryshortstories [link] [comments]
“Are you hit?” Tommy screamed over the chaos of the battlefield. William’s hearing came back in He fired one, twice from the lip of the defilade, not aiming at any spot in particular, just in the general area that the Germans were in. Squeeze the trigger, work the bolt, don’t look at the rotting corpse to your left. Just keep the rhythm. William thought. Just like training.
William patted himself down. He checked his chest, his legs. He felt wet down the leg of his trousers. Blood from a wound he feared, the mud of No Man’s Land he hoped, piss from fear he knew.
Tommy’s Springfield Rifle lay some yards away, half submerged in stagnant crater water, the butt splintered from a machine gun bullet.
“I don’t think…no, I’m okay. I’m fine.” William called. His fingers continued to search along his kit. His canteen had been struck; what little water he had left sloshed below the impact line. That thin, metal bottle had stopped much of the force of the bullet. It had probably been a ricochet anyway. He pressed his side. Blinding light and a feeling in his throat like he might hurl confirmed his fears.
A flash and roar like a thunderstorm from Hell erupted above them. And again. And again. William clasped his hands over his ears and screamed. He screamed for God, he screamed for his mother, he screamed for anyone or anything that could make it stop.
He could not die. Not here. Not in some devastated spit of land thousands of miles from home. Not while Martha waited for him. And not next to this carcass.
The body had been dead for some time, maybe even since the start of the war. A mud splattered uniform made him impossible to identify. His helmet, along with the entire top of his head, had been blasted into a ruin of metal and bone. His eyes had rotted away, or else been picked clean by the legion of rats that infested the area.
And suddenly, it grew quiet. The guns had stopped. And in that silence, the horror grew. Groans, moans, screeching horses and screaming men.
Dirt had showered William. It got on his neck, down his shirt, it stuck to his sweat soaked face and piss and blood stained pants like metal to a magnet.
William’s eyes grew wide as he saw the red-brown patch on Tommy’s side grow. “Oh, Christ!” He scrambled over the dirt and debris to his friend. “Tommy, your mask!” There was a chunk of shrapnel the size of William’s fist through the glass lense of the right eye socket of Tommy’s gas mask. It had punched clean through and lodged in his hip.
“I’m okay. I mean I’ve been hit, but I’m not dying here. The Germans haven’t deployed gas. Listen…no gas gong. We’re okay, Will.”
There were more screams now, more choking some muffled, all very human in their commiseration.
The corpse in the shell hole seemed to turn to look at William now, its eyeless sockets fixed right on him. Look up. William heard the voice in his mind, clear as if Tommy had said it.
William crawled away from Tommy and carefully, slowly, peered over the top.
It seemed like fog at first. It had a similar consistency. A sort of soupy, yellow-brown cloud was approaching, rolling over men and horses and devastation, inevitable as the ocean tide.
Gas. Mustard gas by the look of it. A mere touch causes your skin to blister. William did not want to imagine what happened if you inhaled it.
“Tommy! Gas!”
Thomas Totman, Private First Class, Brother, Son, William Lafevre’s best friend, drew his trench knife and advanced.
The blade was nicked from use. The brass knuckles attached to the handle, so proudly maintained through the first weeks of combat, were worn and cracked in places. But that blade was sharp. Sharp as the day was long. And today was July 4th, not far from the longest day of the year.
The knife cut through cloth and flesh as if they were butter. It sank to the hilt, retreated, and charged in again with the same ease as before. William went stiff and half rolled, half tumbled down the crater, next to the skeletal remains of one who came before.
The eyeless face, the exposed jaw and teeth, all seemed to grin at William as blood bubbled from his lips.
Tommy was on him again, though this time with searching hands. William tried to push him away, but his arms felt funny, his fingers numb.
Tommy snatched the rubber gas mask from William’s hip. It amazed him that something so small, so fragile, so unknown to them both until a few months ago, would not only destroy their decades long friendship, but also end his life.
Tommy pulled the mask on, squeezing it over his head and checking to make sure it sealed properly. Then he sat, pulled his legs to his chest and rocked back and forth, his breath misting the lenses.
The gas rolled over the lip of the crater, the smoke of a million cigarettes blown down a narrow stairwell. William tried to crawl away, maybe to the dead man, maybe he had a working mask.
His chest was screaming, begging for relief, and his useless arms did nothing but twitch at his side. The dead man’s jaw slammed open like a drawbridge, and he started laughing, cackling, as the gas descended to the bottom of the crater.
2024.05.28 01:46 Upbeat_Elderberry559 I want to rip my arm off
21F / 5'3 / 127lbs
2.5 months ago, I started to have occasional pain under my right shoulder blade. Now, the pain is sharp and constant and extends to the top of my right shoulder and the right side of my neck. I guess I would describe it as gnawing pain.
I also have stiffness and muscle pain when I extend my right wrist, straighten my elbow, or stretch out my fingers (similar pain in my ankles, not sure if it’s related).
Occasionally, there’s tingling around my right scapula. My left shoulder and arm are unaffected.
I can’t lift my right arm fully over my head without my elbow bending, and reduced rotation and abduction of my shoulder. The pain is consistent throughout the day, regardless of activity.
Blood tests revealed elevated CK levels (initial 532u/L, 3 days later 661u/L, 2.5 weeks later 255u/L), while other tests including CRP, B12, rheumatoid factor, creatinine, ALT, and TSH were normal. X-rays of my shoulder, knees, and hips, as well as an ultrasound of my shoulder, showed no abnormalities.
I don't lead a particularly active lifestyle and can't recall any specific injury or repetitive arm motions that could have caused this.
submitted by Upbeat_Elderberry559 to AskDocs [link] [comments]
2.5 months ago, I started to have occasional pain under my right shoulder blade. Now, the pain is sharp and constant and extends to the top of my right shoulder and the right side of my neck. I guess I would describe it as gnawing pain.
I also have stiffness and muscle pain when I extend my right wrist, straighten my elbow, or stretch out my fingers (similar pain in my ankles, not sure if it’s related).
Occasionally, there’s tingling around my right scapula. My left shoulder and arm are unaffected.
I can’t lift my right arm fully over my head without my elbow bending, and reduced rotation and abduction of my shoulder. The pain is consistent throughout the day, regardless of activity.
Blood tests revealed elevated CK levels (initial 532u/L, 3 days later 661u/L, 2.5 weeks later 255u/L), while other tests including CRP, B12, rheumatoid factor, creatinine, ALT, and TSH were normal. X-rays of my shoulder, knees, and hips, as well as an ultrasound of my shoulder, showed no abnormalities.
I don't lead a particularly active lifestyle and can't recall any specific injury or repetitive arm motions that could have caused this.
2024.05.28 01:20 apehasreturned Booking the AEW World Title In 2024 - Part One: There Will Be Blood
 | While the AEW World Title has been through some tumultuous, CM Punk-adjacent times, the company is striving to “restore the feeling” with one of the strongest rosters ever assembled in a wrestling promotion, while also maximizing the talents of once-underused stars like Swerve Strickland and Samoa Joe. In fact, that’s where we’re starting off - with the recently maniacal and now beloved Swerve taking on the unstoppable Samoa Joe for the AEW World Title in St. Louis. submitted by apehasreturned to FantasyBookingElite [link] [comments] Dynasty However, we’ve got one thing to get out of the way first - and that’s earlier in the show. In the weeks leading up to Dynasty, Hangman Page said he’d do anything to stop Swerve Strickland leaving St. Louis with the title, leaving the main event in jeopardy of breaking down completely. While he seems to be considering asking for a No Disqualification match and trying his luck, Swerve thinks better of it, instead vowing to just… beat Page to the punch and jump his ass before the match. However, he’s stopped by Tony Khan, who says that he can’t let Swerve go and get into backstage brawls in good conscience. After seeing Jack Perry return to help the Young Bucks win the AEW Tag Titles, he says that he’ll simply prevent interference from taking place by suspending anyone who tries something during the main event. Joe and Swerve are both fine with the terms, and we’re off to the races for a good, clean fight between two of AEW’s most violent and tactical competitors. AEW World Title, Everyone Banned From Ringside: Samoa Joe (c) vs. Swerve Strickland Prince Nana accompanies Swerve out for an entrance fit for a champion, but he heads to the back afterwards, no seconds allowed as Samoa Joe storms to the ring with a confident smirk on his face. Introductions are made, the bell is rung, and HERE WE GO! Joe immediately tries to goad Swerve into a lockup, daring the challenger to shoot his shot against a man twice his size, but Strickland plays it smart, hacking away at Joe’s legs from a distance with stiff kicks. Pretty quickly, Joe gets frustrated, finally catching a leg and clobbering Swerve with a forearm, backing him up into the corner for a series of jabs and chops before GOING STRAIGHT FOR A MUSCLE BUSTER! Swerve frantically fights free, Joe catching him with a short-arm lariat to hang him up on the top rope before starting to clamber up himself. However, Strickland’s got plans of his own, dropping to the apron and BULLDOGGING JOE’S FACE STRAIGHT INTO THE TURNBUCKLE! Joe drops down to the mat, Swerve leaping to the top rope for a SWERVE STOMP, JOE FALLING BACK AT THE LAST MOMENT TO SLIP BEHIND THE CHALLENGER AND LOCK IN A COQUINA CLUTCH! Immediately grabbing the top rope, Swerve’s eyes are bulging out of his head until four, Joe forced to release the hold as Swerve collapses into the turnbuckles and EATS A GAMENGIRI TO SEND HIM TO THE FLOOR! Joe bides his time, mocking the crowd’s deafening cries of “WHOSE HOUSE? SWERVE’S HOUSE!” before heading to the apron for a PK TO SWERVE’S CHEST, ONLY FOR SWERVE TO COUNTER INTO A DRAGON SCREW AND SEND JOE CRASHING TO THE FLOOR! It’s clear in the early goings that this is going to be a chess match, but that won’t stop these two from going ham - whenever they spot an opening, they’ll do whatever it takes. Swerve keeps the pressure on by attempting a tornado DDT off the apron, but this time it’s Joe who gets to counter, wincing at the pain in his knee as he holds Swerve bolt upright for a VERTICAL SUPLEX ONTO THE FLOOR! Strickland sits up in agony, struggling to breathe from the pain as Taz points out it might have impacted a kidney, but Joe shows no mercy, following it with a GERMAN SUPLEX, NOW A TIGER SUPLEX, AND FINALLY A DRAGON SUPLEX TO LAY THE CHALLENGER OUT COMPLETELY! He rolls Swerve back in, lackadaisically covering for two before driving a few knees into the ribs of his grounded opponent. Joe continues to deal damage in the ring, focusing on the midsection with brutal stomps and round kicks, mixing in throws and slams to continuously wear down his foe. Eventually, he feels like he’s done enough to go for the Coquina Clutch again, struggling to flatten Swerve out, but the challenger is tenacious, protecting his neck and batting away Joe’s arms before trying to slide out from under the Samoan Submission Machine, Joe trying to trap him with his legs… BUT SWERVE TWEAKS JOE’S KNEE TO ESCAPE, AND NOW HE’S GOT HIS OPENING! AXE KICK TO THE BACK OF THE HEAD, AND NOW A JUMPING DDT! HE’S GOT JOE SET, THE CHAMPION COMING TO HIS KNEES… HOUSE CALL! ONE! TWO! THR-NOOO! JOE KICKS OUT! Swerve gets right back on the attack, pummeling the leg before flattening Joe with a DDT as he tries to get to his knees. The champion’s in trouble, landing an elbow to Swerve’s body before staggering into the corner, but Swerve rushes him with a pump kick in the corner, followed by a series of brutal stomps to the head. He clambers up to the top rope, calling for a Swerve Stomp, but Joe makes him pay for going for broke early, slapping him across the ear to ring his bell before HITTING AN ENZIGURI! Strickland flops across the top turnbuckle, Joe lighting him up with punishing strikes before hoisting him out of the corner for a MUSCLE BUSTER, BUT THE LEG GIVES OUT! Swerve drops down… POISON RANA CONNECTS! ONE! TWO! THR-KICKOUT BY JOE! The challenger rushes to the corner, measuring his target for another HOUSE CALL, BUT JOE TURNS HIM INSIDE OUT WITH A LARIAT! He drives Swerve into the corner, roaring in his face before unleashing a series of punishing headbutts, hoisting Strickland to the top rope and pounding some feeling back into his leg before once again going for a MUSCLE BUSTER… AND HE GETS IT! ONE! TWO! THRE-SWERVE JUST MANAGES TO GET THE SHOULDER UP! With Swerve having managed to get a shoulder up after a Muscle Buster, a furious Joe is on a warpath, hurling the challenger out to the floor and clobbering him with Muay Thai knees to the ribs and a vicious elbow strike on the jaw. Joe chops Swerve across the chest before uprooting the ring steps, setting them up near the barricade. He sits Strickland on them, winding up to run the length of ringside for a HUGE BOOT, BUT SWERVE KICKS OUT THE KNEE WITH A LOW DROPKICK, JOE SENT CAREENING HEAD-FIRST INTO THE STEEL! Swerve is gasping for air, struggling to recuperate and take advantage, but suddenly, he gets a gleam in his eye as he sees Joe raise his head, bloodied. He winds up… ANOTHER HOUSE CALL TO SEND JOE INTO A SEATED POSITION ON THE BOTTOM STEP! Scrambling to the ring apron, Strickland looks like a man possessed, the crowd rallying behind him as he taps into that sadistic side for a SWERVE STOMP AGAINST THE STEEL STEPS, THE CHAMPION SENT TUMBLING OVER THE BACK OF THEM AT A SICKENING ANGLE! The challenger works with all his might to muscle Joe up and roll him back into the ring, exhausted, but he still manages to scale the ropes. Joe’s on dream street in the middle of the ring, instinctively trying to get back to his feet, but HE’S CUT OFF WITH A SECOND SWERVE STOMP, DRIVING HIM STRAIGHT DOWN INTO THE CANVAS! ONE! TWO! THREE! Swerve Strickland def. Samoa Joe (15:48) to win the AEW World Title It was a sprint to cap off a long show, and as Joe looks up at the lights, it’s clear that Swerve’s grit and quick thinking is going to make him one hell of a champion. Prince Nana comes out to celebrate with him, the crowd electric as Swerve Strickland raises the AEW World Championship aloft to close out Dynasty. After the show, he’s congratulated by Tony Khan and much of the AEW locker room at the top of the ramp, including a begrudging handshake from Samoa Joe. Road to Double or Nothing With Swerve Strickland crowned champion, he’s kicking off Dynamite at Daily’s Place, getting to celebrate some more with Prince Nana and the AEW fans. He says he worked his ass off and did some crazy things to get his hands on this gold, and now the hard part begins - keeping it away from all those who want to see him dead and buried. On screen, Nick and Matt Jackson appear, the new AEW Tag Team Champions saying that they didn’t appreciate Swerve going over their heads to Tony Khan about his title match. As EVPs, they should be making the decisions, but they’ll sort that out with Tony, who “clearly has a bias towards Swerve, even congratulating him after the show.” Swerve brushes them off, certain he can face whatever odds the EVPs stack against him - after all, they’re still on something of a short leash in management. The Bucks warn him that he has a lot of enemies, and tell him that the Elite are a set of enemies he really doesn’t want to make. Strickland says he’s the champ; making enemies comes with the territory. The Bucks look disappointed, but shrug and turn off the feed before HANGMAN PAGE DECAPITATES SWERVE WITH A BUCKSHOT LARIAT! He brutalizes Swerve, even turning his attentions to Nana with a DEADEYE! Later in the night, Tony Khan is attacked by the Elite, dying a tragic death and never being seen again on screen. Included in the attack is a reinstated Jack Perry, who’s welcomed into the Elite with open arms before Hangman Page hits the scene. The Bucks look alarmed, having suspended Page months ago, but as Page starts stomping the shit out of Tony Khan, they embrace him, gaining two new members in their ranks. The next week sees Hangman explain his decision - he says that before Dynasty, he spoke to his wife. In October, Strickland broke into Page’s home, made his family feel unsafe, and Page promised to his wife that he’d make sure Swerve’s dreams never came true. That his behaviour wouldn’t be rewarded. However, Tony Khan stopped him from doing that at Dynasty; he made him lie to his wife, violate his word as Swerve violated his home… so he felt no remorse in doing what he did to Tony, a man who he gave everything to as a day one original of AEW. With the Bucks in charge, he’ll get to make good on his word, albeit a little late - at Double or Nothing, he’ll challenge Strickland for the gold. Swerve better enjoy the glory while he can, because in Vegas, it’ll literally be Double or Nothing; It’ll be a Three Stages of Hell Match, and Hangman will stop at nothing to bring Swerve to the Seventh Circle. Naturally, Strickland jumps Page to get his revenge for the week prior, a massive brawl sparking off and ending with the Elite standing tall. The remainder of the Road to Double or Nothing sees the stipulations slowly unveiled for the title bout - Page chooses a straightforward singles match, having come the closest to beating Swerve in the past under that ruleset, while Strickland goes for a Steel Cage Match to try and keep the Elite out of the equation (and to rule out the Buckshot Lariat by not leaving enough room on the apron). Finally, should it go to a third fall, the Young Bucks use their EVP powers to make it an ambulance match, saying that if he somehow manages to beat Page once, he’ll still end up carted out of the MGM Grand a failure, just as Killshot should’ve been years ago from the Lucha Underground arena. Swerve Strickland (c) vs. Hangman Page Double or Nothing Three Stages of Hell Match for the AEW World Title: Swerve Strickland (c) vs. Hangman Page It’s a big fight feel for the main event of Double or Nothing, Anarchy in the Arena having gone the Elite’s way to put Hangman Page in the driver’s seat for this one. Page is out first to Ghost Riders in the Sky, tapping into the same energy that granted him victory against Jon Moxley a year prior. However, Swerve matches it by simply having the roof come off the MGM Grand Garden Arena the second he steps foot on the stage, the pinnacle of self-assuredness as he makes his way down to the ring. He’s been here before, he’s fought this kind of war, and now all he has to do is push Hangman just as far as he did in the past. Fall One: Singles Match There’s plenty of hate between these two, but they’re both aware of the fact that there’s at least one more grueling bout to go after this, so there’s a bit of a tentative start. Swerve offers a high hand for a lockup, Page slowly meeting him in the middle of the ring and immediately grabbing a fistful of Swerve’s hair to slam him backwards into the mat, mounting him with a flurry of punches. Strickland flips him over, firing back with shots of his own before rising to his feet, rushing for a running shooting star that Hangman avoids, rolling out of harm’s way to the floor. Strickland gives chase, Page fleeing back into the ring and rushing to the opposite apron as Swerve feigns entering, Hangman slingshotting himself with a BUCKSHOT LARIAT, BUT SWERVE FAKED HIM OUT, INTERCEPTING WITH A DROPKICK TO THE ARM! Page clutches the limb as Swerve lands a high knee to the jaw, following it with a swift DDT to bring Hangman to the mat for a PENTA-ESQUE ARM SNAPPER! It’s clear Swerve’s already set his target, gaining the advantage early by outsmarting the overly aggressive Page, and he keeps the pressure on by looking for a straight armbar, trying to prompt Hangman into giving up a fall quickly to ensure minimal damage is done. However, Page manages to lock his grip, stacking Swerve for two before winding up for a SOCCER KICK TO THE BACK OF THE HEAD, FORCING SWERVE TO RELEASE! He begins ruthlessly laying into Swerve with a flurry of stomps to the skull, brutally assaulting his opponent before the referee starts a disqualification count. Page relents at four, but the damage could well already be done, Strickland looking worse for wear as he struggles to his feet in the corner… AND EATS A RUNNING FACEWASH BOOT, THE CROWD ERUPTING INTO BOOS AS PAGE STANDS TALL! Beginning to mug the champion with a devastating series of offensive maneuvers, Page is comfortably in the driver’s seat, intermittently giving Swerve a reprieve as he focuses on getting some feeling back into his arm. Soon enough, he looks to wrap things up with a Deadeye, giving Swerve an opening to reverse into a sunset flip, Page rolling straight through as Strickland kips up to NAIL A SUPERKICK TO A KNEELING PAGE! He seamlessly floats behind him, no wasted motion as he hoists Hangman up and over with a beautiful arcing BRIDGING GERMAN! ONE! TWO! THR-KICKOUT BY PAGE! Hangman rolls out to the apron to try and catch a breather, but Swerve’s a menace on the attack, flying at him with a forearm before kicking out the knee, nailing a Gamengiri to drop Page to the ground. Immediately, Swerve vaults over the ropes for an APRON PUMP KICK, BUT HANGMAN REVERSES WITH A DRAGON SCREW, JUST AS SWERVE DID TO JOE! Page grabs his arm in clear discomfort, but he can’t let this opportunity pass him by, lifting Swerve up for a DRIVING TACKLE INTO THE BARRICADE! He gets a hold on the back of Swerve’s head, smashing his face into the top of the barrier before going for a suplex gutbuster onto the guardrail, only for Strickland to reverse and drop into the front row. Hangman instinctively grabs at him, Swerve thumbing the eye and dragging him over for a DRAPING PILEDRIVER INTO THE FRONT ROW OF CHAIRS! The crowd clears out as Swerve muscles his opponent up, Page on dream street as he’s sent back between the ropes… ONE! TWO! THRE-KICKOUT BY PAGE! It seems as though Hangman’s operating on pure spite to stay in this first fall, commentary questioning what it’ll take for Swerve to beat him not once, but twice if that wasn’t enough. Swerve sticks to the gameplan, stomping the arm before landing a few Kawada kicks to the face to work Page’s head over, hoping to fill his mind with cobwebs and keep him off his game as he lines up for a HOUSE CALL, ONLY FOR PAGE TO GRAB THE LEG! PAGE ROLLS STRAIGHT OVER AND BACK UP TO HIS FEET, TRAPPING SWERVE IN POSITION… DEADEYE! ONE! TWO! THR-SWERVE LIFTS THE SHOULDER! Hangman starts driving knees into the body and head of the grounded AEW Champion, taking the simple approach of pummeling him as much as possible ahead of a certain second fall before stepping out to the apron. Page calls for the Buckshot Lariat, wanting to make the most of its near-certain ability to end a match before the cage takes away his ability to connect with it, but Swerve takes his time getting to his feet. Page launches himself the second Swerve’s off his knees, but STRICKLAND COUNTERS, USING PAGE’S MOMENTUM AGAINST HIM AND NAILING A FLATLINER! He scrambles to roll over, transitioning into a DEADLIFT VERTICAL SUPLEX, BUT PAGE DROPS BEHIND ON ADRENALINE ALONE TO NAIL A BACKDROP DRIVER! Swerve is folded up like an accordion as Page falls through the ropes to the apron, urging Strickland to get up… BUCKSHOT LARIAT CONNECTS, BEHEADING THE CHAMPION! Page clutches his arm in agony, worried the impact might’ve been numbed by his subconscious self-preserving hesitation, but he immediately scrambles to hook both legs… ONE! TWO! THREE! HE GOT HIM! Hangman Page def. Swerve Strickland (14:28) to win the first fall Fall Two: Steel Cage Match Page knows he should take advantage and capitalize immediately, but it’s clear his final furious surge of energy to pick up the first fall has now led to an adrenaline dump, leaving both men down and out on the canvas as the steel cage lowers around them. He’s still the first to his feet, Strickland barely stirring after the Buckshot as Page heaves him up and hurls him headlong into the chain link. Immediately using the structure to his advantage, Hangman grinds Swerve’s face against the steel, drawing blood quickly before swinging Strickland over his shoulder for a LAWN DART INTO THE CAGE, SWERVE TUMBLING DOWN THE GAP BETWEEN THE RING AND THE STEEL! Page admires his work, taking a bit of a breather to try and recover from the massive damage doled out to him in the first round, but he eventually drops down to join Swerve in the tight confines of their makeshift ringside equivalent. With no room to escape, Strickland is left prone to a series of brutal stomps, Page eventually reaching under the ring to pull out all manner of weapons: a chain, a cinderblock, a pane of glass, two chairs, and a special chair wrapped in barbed wire. Sliding the rest of them into the ring, he holds onto the cinderblock, placing it on the apron before lifting Swerve out of the abyss, looking to give him a taste of his own medicine from Full Gear. The crowd watches on in horror as a deranged Hangman gets Strickland up into a fireman’s carry… but SWERVE PUSHES OFF THE CAGE TO LAND BACK IN THE RING, NAILING A DROPSAULT TO SEND HANGMAN INTO THE STEEL! The champion is showing signs of life now, and with Page trying to balance himself on the apron, he’s got the perfect opportunity for revenge, picking up the barbed wire chair and SMASHING IT INTO THE UPPER BACK OF HIS FOE! Pinpricks of blood give way to a great cascade of crimson down the spine of the Hangman, Swerve maniacally swinging for the fences with each shot on a trapped opponent. Finally, he winds up for one more horrific blow, Page’s face up against the chain link as Swerve charges with the chair… PAGE DUCKS AT THE LAST MOMENT, AVOIDING HIS HEAD BEING SANDWICHED BY MERE INCHES! The chair drops to the floor as Page fires back with a forearm, battling through the pain, but Strickland is merciless, connecting with a headbutt to rock the challenger before rushing him once more, only for HANGMAN TO SEAMLESSLY COUNTER INTO A DEATH VALLEY DRIVER ON THE CINDERBLOCK! Page scrambles to get Swerve back in the ring, but the champion has the wherewithal to drop back down between the cage and the ring, making extracting him virtually impossible for the beaten Hangman. Still, Page grits his teeth, and uses his one good arm to haul Swerve’s body up onto the apron and between the ropes, hooking the leg… ONE! TWO! THRE-NOOO! Page can’t believe it, a fraction of a second away from a second AEW Title reign, and he’s clearly cracking from the emotional weight of it all. However, he has to keep the pressure on, setting up the two chairs near one of the corners before laying the pane of glass between them. He picks Swerve up for a powerbomb, LOOKING TO PUT HIM THROUGH THE GLASS, BUT SWERVE MANAGES TO DROP OFF HIS SHOULDERS AT THE LAST MOMENT! Strickland drops to the mat behind Page in a heap, Page letting out his frustration with a few petulant stomps before leaning over to pick Swerve back up… AND EATING METAL, SWERVE WRAPPING HIS FIST IN THE CHAIN AND DECKING PAGE IN THE MOUTH! HE STACKS A STUNNED HANGMAN UP… ONE! TWO! THRE-NOOO! Immediately, the champion transitions into a submission attempt, trying to use the chain to assist in locking in a crossface, but Page elbows his way free, pounding away at Swerve’s leg to try and get some space. He scrambles to his feet, realizing all too late that Swerve’s got the chain tangled around his neck - AND NOW SWERVE NAILS A SUPERKICK, PULLING HIM INTO THE STRIKE! Instead of attacking his opponent, Swerve leans over the ropes and laces the chain through the cage wall, grinning at his handiwork as Page lunges at him… ONLY FOR SWERVE TO PULL THE CHAIN, SLAMMING THE BACK OF HANGMAN’S HEAD INTO THE CAGE AND NEARLY SENDING HIM RIGHT OVER THE TOP ROPE! Hangman gasps for air as Strickland wrenches his body weight back, slowly lifting Page off of the ground… but his leg gives out, unable to support both men’s weight for too long. The challenger drops back to the canvas, but Swerve’s managed to use the cage to turn the tides as he catches his breath. Still holding onto the chain for dear life, Swerve builds up some slack to try and smash Page in the midsection with it, but Page meets him with a boot before removing the chain, averting disaster before connecting with a FALLAWAY SLAM, SENDING SWERVE ONTO THE BARBED WIRE CHAIR! ONE! TWO! THRE-ANOTHER KICKOUT! Strickland is bleeding heavily from his back now too, blood and flesh left strewn about the ring as Page goes for broke. Setting Swerve up on the top rope, he clambers up as well, the crowd rising to their feet as the two crimson-coated gladiators slug it out… AND HANGMAN GETS SWERVE UP FOR A DEADEYE! HE’S TRYING FOR AN AVALANCHE DEADEYE INTO THE GLASS… BUT STRICKLAND GRABS THE CAGE, PULLING HIMSELF BACK AND SENDING PAGE FLYING INTO AN ERUPTION OF CRYSTALLINE SHARDS! Hangman tries to rise up from the carnage on instinct, more glass digging into his skin as he attempts to stand, eventually collapsing once more as Strickland looks down. The ambulance is already parked on the ramp in case this goes to a third fall - if he deals enough damage right now, he could win two straight falls in the span of a minute. Knowing that going full send is the best course of action to maybe wrap this one up, he scales even higher, reaching the top of the cage as Las Vegas erupts… SWERVE STOMP FROM THE TOP OF THE DAMN CAGE, CRUSHING HANGMAN RIGHT BACK DOWN INTO THE SHATTERED GLASS! SWERVE GRABS HIS BAD LEG IN AGONY, BUT IT CAN’T STOP HIM FROM DRAPING HIMSELF OVER A LIFELESS HANGMAN… ONE! TWO! THREE! Swerve Strickland def. Adam Page (16:10) to win the second fall Fall Three: Ambulance Match Swerve can’t stand after such a hellacious drop, still clutching his leg as he sits up in the pool of broken glass. Hangman’s completely unmoving, though, so he has to get a move on as the cage starts to rise for the third and final fall. He rolls under the ropes, flopping against the ambulance doors and heaving them open to pull out the gurney… BUT JACK PERRY’S INSIDE, THAT RAT BASTARD! Jack leaps out as the gurney tumbles to the floor, immediately looking to cinch in some sort of sleeper on Swerve, but Strickland bucks him off and SWINGS THE DOOR OPEN INTO HIS FACE! Perry is stunned for just long enough to give Swerve an opening, Strickland grabbing a fistful of broken glass and HAMMERING PERRY ON THE JAW! Real glass, cry me a river. With Perry incapacitated, Swerve drags Hangman under the ropes and onto the gurney, trying to load him into the ambulance before he has the chance to come to his senses. He pushes the gurney up into the vehicle, but before he can close the doors, Perry’s back up, swinging wildly to give Page a few extra seconds. Swerve fires back, filled with adrenaline as he NAILS PERRY WITH A POWERBOMB ONTO THE RAMP! Hoping to get rid of Perry permanently, Swerve heads around to the passenger’s side door, opening it up and undoing the seatbelt as the terrified driver curls up against the opposite side. He chucks Perry into the passenger’s seat, buckling him in before CHAINING THE SEATBELT TO THE DOORHANDLE, TRAPPING JACK IN PLACE! Perry hurls verbal abuse at the AEW Champion as Strickland looks to head around the back and close the doors on Hangman, but PAGE IS BACK UP, VAULTING OVER PERRY AND TACKLING SWERVE OUT THE PASSENGER’S SIDE DOOR! Hangman’s got the advantage now, coated head to toe in his and Strickland’s blood as he rains forearms down with his good side. Picking Swerve up, he launches him headlong into the windshield, bringing the gurney around to try and strap the champion down. Swerve fights him off with a few punches, stumbling around the hood of the ambulance, but HANGMAN LAUNCHES HIMSELF FORWARD WITH A MODIFIED BUCKSHOT LARIAT, SLINGSHOTTING OVER THE GURNEY TO CONNECT ONCE MORE! He fights to pick Swerve up with one arm, the final Buckshot doing enough damage to negate his bad arm’s usefulness completely, but the champion keeps going on instinct with feeble elbows to the body. Page drags Swerve towards the gurney, trying to strap him in, but STRICKLAND WITH A WELL-PLACED KNEE TO THE JAW! He staggers away, not quite sure where he is as he finds himself perched against the hood of the ambulance, and now PAGE WITH A BOOT! Hangman clambers onto the hood of the ambulance, bringing Swerve with him as he looks for a POWERBOMB INTO THE WINDSHIELD, BUT STRICKLAND FLOATS OVER… AND PICKS PAGE UP FOR A BRAINBUSTER OFF THE HOOD OF THE AMBULANCE AND ONTO THE GURNEY! He can’t strap Page down, or even wheel the gurney to the back of the ambulance, as the gurney is destroyed on impact. He’s forced to drag Page on one good leg, heaving him around back and attempting to shove him into the vehicle… BUT PAGE WITH A CLUBBING LARIAT! He heaves Swerve up and falls out himself, closing one door… BUT SWERVE STOPS THE OTHER FROM CLOSING! Swerve kicks the door open and jumps out with a crossbody, only for Page to reverse into a FALLAWAY SLAM INTO THE RING APRON! He tries to kip up as he usually does, but he’s too physically depleted to manage, instead rolling slowly up to his feet and dragging Swerve back to the ambulance. He grabs one of the chairs from the ring as Strickland attempts to stand, leaving great bloody handprints smeared across the ambulance doors as he does. Page winds up, an unsuspecting Swerve turning around as THE CHAIR IS SWUNG STRAIGHT INTO THE DOOR, STRICKLAND DROPPING AT THE LAST MOMENT! The impact reverberates through Page’s arm, Swerve kicking it before taking out the knee with a low dropkick… HOUSE CALL CONNECTS! COME ON, SWERVE! GET HIM IN THE AMBULANCE! He hoists Page up, the challenger vanishing into the shadows of the vehicle… BUT PAGE IS FIGHTING WITH ALL HIS MIGHT, STICKING HIS ARM OUT TO KEEP THE DOOR FROM CLOSING! He pushes his bad arm through the gap, trying to grab at Swerve’s face, desperately clawing to drag the champion into the ambulance as well, but SWERVE SLAMS THE DOOR ON THE BAD ARM! ONCE, TWICE, THRICE, OVER AND OVER AND OVER! PAGE REFUSES TO WITHDRAW THE ARM, SHEER HATRED DRIVING HIM AGAINST STRICKLAND! NOW HE USES HIS OTHER ARM TO FINALLY FORCE THE DOOR FURTHER AJAR, FIGHTING THROUGH THE GAP… STRICKLAND KICKS THE DOOR WITH ALL HIS MIGHT, SANDWICHING A BLOODY PAGE’S HEAD IN THE STEEL! HE’S OUT COLD, AND NOW SWERVE ROLLS THE LIMP BODY IN - AND CLOSES THE DOORS! SWERVE’S DONE IT! Swerve Strickland def. Adam Page (9:57) to win the third fall Swerve Strickland (2) def. Adam Page (1) (40:35) to retain the AEW World Title Road to Forbidden Door Despite Swerve managing to knock off Hangman Page at Double or Nothing, the Elite as a whole are flying high coming out of the event after beating Team AEW in Anarchy in the Arena. With a collaborative show on the horizon, the EVPs are essentially shit out of luck in trying to screw Swerve over at Forbidden Door, with a Forbidden Door Gauntlet deciding Swerve’s next PPV challenger. Dynamite sees all manner of NJPW and CMLL talent striving to get their crack at the gold, but in the end, Shingo Takagi definitively puts Hiroshi Tanahashi down to stake his claim to Swerve in New York. We’re promised big time graps as Swerve Strickland’s set to defend the AEW World Title in New York against a man with plenty of experience as a champion in his own right, both in Japan and the United States: Shingo Takagi. Swerve talks about the respect he’s got for Shingo’s ability, and how much he’s looked forward to facing him, but also says he’s lent no quarter when he’s in the ring. Shingo may be bigger and stronger, he may be plenty accomplished, but Strickland’s not afraid to hurt him if he has to in order to walk away with the win - and Shingo promises the sentiment is mutual. On route to their match, they have a one-upmanship contest teaming together against the House of Torture and Elite tandem of Ren Narita and Jack Perry. Swerve and Perry make a beeline for one another, Strickland’s rivalry with the Elite far from over, while Takagi pushes the pace against the Reiwa Musketeer with an absurd barrage of offence. Despite their internalized competition, Swerve and Shingo end up making a pretty good team, Takagi turning Narita inside out with a Pumping Bomber and a Last of the Dragon for three. Champion and challenger stand tall before standing off, Swerve confident in saying he’ll keep the title in AEW, just as has always been the case at Forbidden Door. Shingo seems plenty confident himself, though - he says before Tanahashi tried and failed on back to back shows to bring the AEW Title to New Japan, he fell to the Dragon at the Tokyo Dome. Takagi’s never had the chance to appear at Forbidden Door in a singles match, and he won’t be falling short now that the opportunity has presented itself. Non-Title Match: Swerve Strickland vs. El Desperado On the go-home show, Swerve faces off with El Desperado, because they had tag matches against each other at Forbidden Door 2022 and 2023, and they had insane chemistry. Despy puts in a good showing, but Strickland gets a decisive win with a JML Driver, looking strong heading into his second PPV title defence. Swerve Strickland def. El Desperado (12:34) Forbidden Door AEW World Title: Swerve Strickland (c) vs. Shingo Takagi With both men having gotten a feel for the other’s arsenal, this is a clinic, Shingo and Swerve trying to outpace and outhink each other before it eventually devolves into outright mayhem, Takagi swinging for the fences to try and dethrone Strickland. Swerve is forced to match him in pace, nailing a 450 Splash to put Shingo on the back foot before attempting a House Call, only for Shingo to avoid the leg, nabbing the arm for a STAY DREAM, STRAIGHT INTO A MADE IN JAPAN! ONE! TWO! THR-NOOO! Takagi clobbers Strickland with a series of forearms to back him into the ropes, rushing at him before Swerve slips behind, no wasted motion as he runs the ropes himself… STRAIGHT INTO A PUMPING BOMBER! SHINGO LIFTS HIM UP FOR THE LAST OF THE DRAGON, BUT SWERVE REVERSES, WRENCHING SHINGO UP INTO A TOMBSTONE PILEDRIVER! Shingo’s rocked… HOUSE CALL CONNECTS! The crowd rallies behind Swerve as he hoists Takagi up into position, SEALING THE DEAL WITH A JML DRIVER! ONE! TWO! THREE! SWERVE STRICKLAND RETAINS THE AEW WORLD TITLE IN AN ABSOLUTE WAR, ENSURING THE GOLD STAYS IN HIS HOUSE! Swerve Strickland def. Shingo Takagi (20:15) to retain the AEW World Title Following the bout, Swerve and Shingo shake hands, Takagi congratulating him on a battle well fought, adding Strickland can be as vicious as anyone he’s ever seen when the situation calls for it. Strickland chuckles, slinging the title over his shoulder before WAIT A SECOND! THE YOUNG BUCKS ARE HERE WITH PAGE AND PERRY, BEATING DOWN SHINGO AND SWERVE! Hiromu Takahashi and Titan rush to the ring to try and help out their LIJ stablemate, but the Elite clean house, the EVPs sending a message to Strickland with a Buckshot and a Tony Khan Driver. Road to All In London It’s a long two months for Swerve to keep his title safe until AEW heads back to Wembley Stadium, but that’s not all that’s coming up - with the Elite laying waste to Swerve and Shingo after their bout at Forbidden Door, it seems as though Strickland will have to finally excise this thorn in his side. On Dynamite, he comes down to the ring ready to make a challenge, but the Elite beat him to the punch - last year, they won in Blood and Guts, and this year, they want to go two for two. The EVPs tell Strickland via satellite that they warned him about making enemies; now he’s got to find four partners. However, Swerve’s already got one, at least… Shingo Takagi, who doesn’t take much convincing to try and get his revenge, Swerve selling him on the idea by saying that he’s already taken out the Bucks before, so it should be light work to do it again. The next few weeks see Strickland on a recruiting run for Blood and Guts, getting Bryan Danielson on side by bringing up his shortcomings at Anarchy in the Arena, as well as his inability to be cleared for the past two Blood and Guts matches. This is Bryan’s time to make right for the years of coming up short, and Danielson agrees to stand by his fellow Washington native. Following that, Swerve makes a gamble by trying to bring on Darby Allin. Strickland acknowledges their history, but says Darby has a chance to not only make up for Anarchy in the Arena, but in doing so, all he’s gotta do is something he’s already done - beat up the Young Bucks alongside Shingo Takagi. Darby tells Swerve he simply doesn’t trust him; he’ll be pulling for his team to beat the shit out of the Elite, but he won’t be fighting Swerve’s battles. Similarly, Swerve tries his luck with MJF, saying if he’s a real AEW diehard with a tattoo on his leg, he’ll join forces with him. However, MJF laughs the offer off, telling Strickland to pound sand because there’s no universe where he works a tag match again, rounding it off by saying he’ll be gunning for the AEW World Title by trying to win the Owen. Desperate to round out his team, Swerve turns to PAC, throwing all the reasons possible at the wall to see what’ll stick - his history with Shingo making them a powerhouse team, his hatred for Okada and the Bucks. He says he trusts PAC to not walk away like he did last year, because this time, the fight will be about his cause, and not that of the BCC. PAC reluctantly accepts, but Strickland remains on edge, unsure of if PAC will stand by him when push comes to shove. Finally, Strickland is confronted by Brian Cage, who says he wants to be on the team. Swerve thanks him, but says he thinks they should go their separate ways, saying he respects Cage and the Gates of Agony, but doesn’t want them getting caught in the crossfire with the Elite. Having framed it as saving the Mogul Embassy the trouble, Swerve avoids a beatdown from Cage, but he’s still lacking a fifth man - leading to Nana suggesting his last partner be Will Ospreay, who he says is directionless after being betrayed by the Don Callis Family (who cost Will the match at Double or Nothing after he refused to use the Storm Driver 93). He’s got history with Okada that Swerve can exploit to get him on side, and even with Kenny Omega gone, he probably hates the Elite by association anyway. Swerve agrees with Nana, approaching Ospreay about joining and landing the tactical dagger to convince him - he tells Ospreay this is his chance to make up for failing the United Empire in a 5v5 cage match in February, which is enough to get Will on his side for a night. The road to Blood and Guts also sees the EVPs booking Swerve in an onslaught of matches against varied members of the roster to try and wear him down. While Swerve manages to earn victories in each encounter, he’s still clearly in a pretty bad way after seven gruelling matches over the course of three weeks, setting the stage for a battered Swerve to try and lead his team to victory in the most brutal stipulation AEW has to offer. Finally, on the go-home show, the EVPs simply… give themselves the advantage in Blood and Guts, saying they “can’t clear” Swerve to compete in a match to decide who gets it. However, they say he’ll surely be good to go on Wednesday, putting his team far on the back foot before the show even begins. Strickland, Danielson, Takagi, PAC and Ospreay vs. Okada, Page, Perry and The Bucks |
2024.05.28 01:11 Ornery-Spot5727 Do I have anxiety???
So I'm just trying to be sure if have it or not I've looked up my symptoms but they always seem to lead to different things and my parents keep saying I'm trying to kill myself or I'm on drugs and it frustrating like whenever we are at a store my mom tells me to go get something for a different aisle so I do bit I always think of what's going tohappen if I do it as in I'd gt kidnapped or I'll drop cans off the shelf and I attract a audience of people or get the stares my Hands will start shaking and I will scratch my neck or bite down on my pointer finger until i see marks that turn red or until I start to feel a pain in my finger also my palms will get really itchy too like say I'm in the store by myself and someone walks past me I will feel like there Is a huge lump in My throat ad my lungs starts sqeeze and my head will feel fuzzy and then the thoughts I talk to myself everyday it's like there are multiple me's inide my head that I cant get rid of and i will hear ringing in my ears and i don't even sleep till 6 in the morning becaue i will think someone is here trying to kill me or something like my head can't even be clear for 3 minute's its like my i am always thinking of the bad outcomes or the what it's and it will cause me to not even do it anymore the i will get a huge headache i know this is a long paragraph but I just need reassurance because I think I've gone mad as my parents says?
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2024.05.28 00:58 dntgvafuk Any similar experiences? Help with finding out what this is?
I recently just discovered what vasovagal syncope is after googling some symptoms I was experiencing and have experienced a few times. I noticed it was happening more frequently so I googled even though googling symptoms just gives me more anxiety. I have been diagnosed with anxiety, depression and bipolar disorder in 2020, but since then have noticed a turnaround in myself , I feel like 2023/2024 i’ve been at my peak with happiness, life in general and my job has really helped with my depression & mental health, also cutting out certain people in my life has helped with my anxiety and depression and some symptoms with bipolar disorder. Very recently I have been experiencing symptoms where I feel like i’m about to faint . The first time i had this experience was 9 months ago , I recall sitting on my chair in my room standing up walking over to my bed to go drink some water and I felt completely normal at first , then all of the sudden my body heats up extremely especially the back of my neck/ shoulders and face gets really hot , and since it was the first time this happened I wasn’t sure what was wrong so it scared me, suddenly my body was hot, I felt heavy like I was sinking into the ground, I felt weak like I couldn’t barely move my arms or legs and my vision got blurry and like tunnel vision but I managed to walk to the bathroom and I remember trying to turn on the light to my bathroom but when I flipped the switch on it was still pitch black in my bathroom so I had a quick thought of “maybe the lightbulb went out” then suddenly I fell to the ground and fainted for the first time , it was scary I thought I was actually going to die. once I came to I realized my vision had went completely black because the light was on in my bathroom. It was an extreme experience and it was my first experience, Doctors say I have low iron, so I thought it could be a mix of that with slight dehydration. The second time I had another experience like this was the 21st of this month where I was standing in my bathroom and all of the sudden my body did the thing where it heats up again in my neck/shoulder and head/face area and I feel weak , this time was different because I felt extremely nauseous to the point where I tried to throw up during this but nothing happened , i began sweating from my forehead out of no where and I also felt and could hear my heart beating super fast so I laid down on my bathroom floor trying to calm myself down, close my eyes and breathe in and out and that did help. I laid there for about 3 minutes and felt back to normal again and was able to stand up. this one was very sudden and I didn’t really think it would be caused by dehydration because I had been drinking plenty of water for weeks . The third time I had an experience like this was last night but this one was different , I exited my room , walked to my living room to watch TV on the couch, but before I could get to my living room I went to the kitchen because I realized I hadn’t eaten that day, I made myself some yogurt and granola and ate it , I was fine, then I went to eat more so I grabbed some cucumbers soaked in rice wine vinegar and ate a couple of those standing up , after eating like 2 slices of cucumber my stomach started to not feel good and was grumbling , so I put my fork down cuz I knew I shouldn’t have anymore and then out of nowhere the hot feeling starts up again and I already knew what was about to happen, so I try to make my way to my couch feeling extremely weak and having blurred & tunnel vision, I sat down to try to calm myself down and my heart was literally beating so fast , I drank some water and tried to lay down on my couch taking a deep breath in and out to try and control my heart beat after a few minutes of that I felt better and not like I was going to pass out anymore , but while I was laying down I got a sudden wave of tiredness and almost felt like I was dreaming but I knew I was awake, I began hearing these wooshing noises in my right ear only , it sounded like when you hold a seashell up to your ear but more woosh-like , I don’t know if what I was hearing was real but I kept hearing distant banging noises coming from throughout my house as well as people saying words but it sounded like it was right next to me or even around me . my eyes were open and I don’t even think I was blinking , I felt stuck like I couldn’t move and my eyes were open looking at the ceiling while hearing the banging and the voices , my ceiling started to look like it had this glowing white/fuzzy line in the crease where your wall meets your ceiling , out of the corner of my eye I could just see outlines of the objects beside my couch which are plants outlined in like this glowing red lining, and then it would outline the whole plant and turn into literal TV static but the plant was outlined and the whole inside of it looked like TV static . During seeing that I was still stuck on staring at the ceiling so I only saw that out of the corner of my eye and while looking at the ceiling (this sounds ridiculous) but I saw this trippy/psychedelic mandala begin to grow from the middle outwards. this lasted for about 10 minutes and the whole time it was happening I didn’t understand why this was happening and I still don’t , I just find it weird that this happened all after experiencing the feeling of almost fainting episodes that i’ve had , only this time seeing all that/hearing that was different and never happened to me before . i’m just wondering what all of this is caused by and if anyone has had some similar experiences happen to them ? Please share your thoughts and stories! Thank you!!
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2024.05.28 00:37 RadarFromAfar Seeing a neuro next month. These experiences are at night during sleep and I’m totally lucid. Has anyone experienced this?
It happens at night either right after I fall asleep as I’m falling asleep. I get a feeling of anxiety sometimes but it often starts with a flood of creative thoughts. Like images of really strange but complex art or animations, or an entire song getting constructed, like my brain is creating without me trying. Then buzzing in my head and body begins, like I’m sitting in a high oscillation vibration massage chair, but it’s IN my body. My limbs also feel kind of numb. Then it’s almost like an out of body experience where I will do what feels like moving my hand, like waving it in the air and what I see is exactly what I would see if I were awake with my eyes open, but my physical body is not moving. The strange thing is that I’m totally lucid the whole time and I feel as though I am able to stop it by choosing to wake up, but as soon as I fall back asleep or begin to, it starts again. Sometimes I wake up and go back into it a few times before it stops. I almost feel like I can increase the vibration when it’s happening by applying some kind of mental pressure, almost like when you plug your nose and pop your ears.
For a long time I just thought it was a weird dream experience or something metaphysical but as I’ve researched it seems there’s a good possibility it’s neurological. I just haven’t seen anything like what I experience described here. Sometimes I’m sleeping normally but will wake up from taking a sudden gasp for air and my heart will be racing. I’m always tired even when I sleep for the normal amount of hours, or more, and have terrible fatigue.
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For a long time I just thought it was a weird dream experience or something metaphysical but as I’ve researched it seems there’s a good possibility it’s neurological. I just haven’t seen anything like what I experience described here. Sometimes I’m sleeping normally but will wake up from taking a sudden gasp for air and my heart will be racing. I’m always tired even when I sleep for the normal amount of hours, or more, and have terrible fatigue.
2024.05.28 00:22 embernickel Bingo Reviews 1/5 (Lonely Castle in the Mirror, Promise of the Flame, The Adventures of Amina al-Sirafi, Spinning Silver, The Infinite Arena)
Lonely Castle in the Mirror, by Mizuki Tsujimura
"Lonely Castle in the Mirror" is a genre-savvy portal fantasy about junior high students who get drawn into a mysterious castle when they're supposed to be in school. Kokoro had a terrible experience early in the school year that's made her terrified of facing her classmates, and develops some kind of (psychosomatic?) illness that prevents her from attending either the normal school or a special alternative school for students who need more support. Shortly after this, her bedroom mirror turns into a portal to the castle with six other students who are also not in school during the normal hours. The "Wolf Queen" in charge--an elementary school girl who enjoys allusions to "Little Red Riding Hood"--tells them all that there's a secret key in the castle that can grant one wish, and they have a year to find it and, potentially, use it. Also, if anyone is caught in the castle outside of the 9-5 school day timeframe, they'll all be eaten by a wolf.
So, these painfully shy students have the opportunity to make friends and have a non-terrifying experience with kids their own age, and they all enjoy bonding and playing video games and drinking tea together, and for the most part nobody cares about finding the key, because that would make the castle close and prematurely end their new friendship. For most of the book, the contrived quest stuff doesn't play into it. And then when it does, it kind of lampshades "oh yeah I have to do this on speedrun mode."
There are a lot of takes pointing out that books where "the magic goes away"/"everyone loses their memories"/"we just have to move on with our lives and pretend like the portal fantasy never happened" can be pretty messed up. In this book, however, I couldn't find myself relating to the characters because it felt like a perverse incentives situation. Yes, middle school is an emotionally volatile, turbulent, unpleasant environment full of many immature people. This is a pretty common experience, actually. Kokoro just can't handle it, and as a response, the infinitely patient teacher at the alternative school reassures her mother that she's battling really hard and it's not her fault, she just can't go to school, and then she gets to go through a portal into fantasy world with people who play video games and eat snacks all day...? I understand there's more to it than that, but something has to change about this situation because otherwise this really isn't the message you want to send. (Once we learn about the backgrounds and life situations of some of the other students, I can imagine how it was easier for people like Subaru and Aki to fall through the cracks, but it feels like, eg, Masamune and Ureshino's junior high situation should have had some kind of guidance counselor or adult in the room. The readers' guide in the back of the book describes Kokoro as a "futoko," and I understand this is more pervasive in Japan than elsewhere, but I have a hard time accepting that seventh graders staying home for months on end with no apparent homeschooling or tutoring gets such a shrug.)
The prose didn't really grab me, sometimes it felt awkward ("That day, Fuka apparently enjoyed the chocolates back home, for she faithfully reported to Kokoro that 'they were delicious.'") and there were a several parts with very. short. one. line. paragraphs.
There's also a random red herring with a neighbor student whose father has an interest in researching fairy tales, and like, maybe that "real world" location/characters are related in some way to the portal world? No, it's just a fortuitous coincidence that helps Kokoro have access to more Western fairy tale info.
The good news is, about halfway through the characters start developing some genre-savviness and realizing what they have in common, and towards the end, things pick up significantly in terms of how and why some of the arbitrary fairy-tale logic came about. So it definitely sticks the landing in that way.
Bingo: Prologue/Epilogue, Author of Color, Book Club
Promise of the Flame, by Sylvia Louise Engdahl
At the end of "Stewards of the Flame," to which this book is a sequel, our heroes Jesse, Carla, and Peter had hijacked a spaceship and jumped to an uninhabited planet to set up a colony where humans could develop psionic powers free from the medical bureaucracy of Undine. Jesse's hyperspace jump was rushed and not perfectly calculated, so in order to ensure their oxygen supply makes it all the way to planet Maclairn (named after their late founder), the Group had to confront their deepest fear and brave the stasis boxes that had been Chekhov-gunned several times in the last section. As the existence of the sequel implies, the protagonists and most of their comrades survive stasis. But while, in "Stewards," the hyperspace navigation "error"/imperfection sets up the Group's ultimate test, here it casts a long shadow as Jesse keeps wondering, "could we have picked a better landing site if I hadn't screwed it up?"
The early days on Maclairn are a struggle. The first part of the book is a recurring cycle of "should we do things this way or that way? Well, we came here to set up a society fully founded on mind powers, we pretty much have to commit to the bit or else what's the point." Repeat ad infinitum. Later, this broadens somewhat to "we have to have psi powers coexist with modern technology to fulfill Ian [Maclairn]'s dream, otherwise what's the point." There are clear parallels to (Engdahl's older trilogy) "Children of the Star"; that society represents the endpoint if they go down a path of giving up on modern technology--and the burdens of agrarian, high-population-growth societies fall disproportionately on women. If "Stewards" had motifs of baptism, this is more of an Exodus story, with the characters sulking about "why did you bring us out of Undine just to starve in the wilderness, at least there we had enough to eat." "My God, came Carla’s thought, we’re homesick! Homesick for Undine! I never admitted that to myself, it was so foolish, I’d wanted so much to leave . . . I guess I just pushed it down inside, into a place I didn’t dare go. . . ."
The consequences of the hyperspace jump being off are a minor tonal retcon/change in perspective on the events of the first book. A more significant one, to me, involves love triangle dynamics. In "Stewards," we learn that Carla and Peter both previously had spouses who died under the authoritarian Undine government. Fortunately, Jesse shows up just when Carla is ready to love again, and their relationship brings him into the Group and thus enables their escape from Undine. "Promise" adds that Peter has been silently pining for Carla all along, but needed Jesse's starship skills too much to say anything. We're told the Group's adult recruits skew slightly female, but that isn't represented among the main characters, and you're telling me that none of them are Peter's type? All three of them sigh and angst about "oh, we're such great friends, we can't let this love triangle come between us," and at times it feels like it's setting up for a polygamy plotline (they're all highly powerful telepaths, they can't keep secrets from each other!) And then it just...goes nowhere. As in the first book, I can accept that sex is probably great among telepaths; I can't buy that every single person has to have sex in order to fully level up their telepathic sensitivity!
The best parts of "Promise" involve the culture clashes between Jesse, who grew up on Earth; the rest of the adult Group members, from Undine; and the Maclairn-born generation. Undine's environment is so tightly regulated, they don't even have insects or lizards, so the planet's "collective unconsciousness" doesn't have a fear of creepy-crawlies; Jesse's initial revulsion risks "contaminating" the psyche until everyone faces their fear.
Like in James P. Hogan's "Voyage to Yesteryear," the kids who were raised outside of Earth and Undine's prejudices are, overall, a great step forward for humankind, but there can be some values dissonance. In both cases, the desire for lots of population growth leads to a much lower age of consent than Earthlings are used to. Justified somewhat more in Maclairn's case; telepathy means almost everyone wouldn't fathom hurting each other and of course sex is consensual, as well as amazing. On the other hand, in both cases, there's no prison infrastructure; if someone is determined to be evil and is posing a grave threat to others, you just have to kill them. "Promise" gets a little more philosophical about the problem of evil--if it's not nature and it's not nurture, what causes it? Free will? Sure, but it seems as if some people are also evil from day one even if their DNA is just fine.
There are a couple shoutouts to Lord of the Rings and Star Trek that fit in nicely. I found "it's just like using the Force, you know, like in that old vid, Star Wars" to be more of a distraction. Similarly, Engdahl's commitment to showing her work ("in the twentieth century on Earth, you know, people experimented with remote viewing!") got to be a distraction. But the exploration of "okay, let's try a rain dance, even if it fails we're learning something and pushing knowledge forward" was a great use of the "sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic" trope, which is what I come to Engdahl for anyway.
Some people, like Peter, tend to believe in an afterlife; others, like Jesse, are more skeptical. Earth religions don't transfer well to other planets because the interstellar gap is too big for the collective unconsciousness to bridge. Despite this, characters use the word "God" (like in a telepathic context of "Carla . . . oh, God, Carla, answer me!") approximately 144 times. Do you have no one else's name to take in vain???
Criticisms aside, I do think that this is less heavy-handed than "Stewards" and at least as good a starting point!
Bingo: Dreams, Prologues/Epilogues, Self-Published, Survival. One prominent character acquires a physical disability midway through the story. Jesse and Peter's Criminal record on Undine is not very important (since the entire book is set on or around Maclairn), but it becomes more prominent in the last section.
The Adventures of Amina al-Sirafi, by Shannon Chakraborty
Once upon a time (1100s Indian Ocean) there was a notorious nakhudha (pirate captain) named Amina al-Sirafi. Ten years ago, she retired, and now she's a single mom with a bad knee and a leaky roof. However, a wealthy noblewoman who believes her granddaughter has been kidnapped by a Western European would-be sorcerer insists on having Amina rescue her, never mind Amina's own family responsibilities. So Amina has to put the band back together, staying one step ahead of the authorities while getting to the bottom of the mystery.
Amina and her crew are likable rogues. I found this easier to get into than Chakraborty's "City of Brass". That book focused more on a long-term conflict between two factions, neither of whom consistently seem like the "good guys"; maybe that's supposed to be sending a message about RL actually works, but I found it confusing at times. In contrast, the early sections of "Amina" are about tracking down individual allies, from a gay smuggler stuck in a prison in Aden, to a navigator and family man in Mogadishu, while researching the notorious Falco Palamenestra and speculating what he might be up to.
At first, Amina's Muslim identity comes through more in the ways characters talk, and some level of monster-fighting exorcism (like Catholicism in some horror movies), than actual practice. But gradually, we see more of how she's struggled to be a parent in her post-pirate life:
This is a time and place that I knew very little about. For instance, one plotline involves the island of Socotra, an island off the coast of Somalia which is today part of Yemen. There are caves there with graffiti from sailors going back thousands of years, in Indian and Greek and Ethiopic scripts. This is a real place! I would not have been able to tell you anything about it before reading this book! So Chakraborty's vivid descriptions of places this, and of the diverse cultures and religious backgrounds of pirates who live and work alongside each other, is compelling. There's a danger in this as a reader, though, in that getting too caught up in the "worldbuilding" of the actual world can make it feel like its "foreignness" is what makes it speculative and fantastical, which is obviously inaccurate and beside the point. That's one reason why jumping in at the deep end with an honest-to-goodness sea monster in chapter one might have been a good choice, to remind us that there really are otherworldly things happening.
The themes of "rich people love to jerk poor people around" and "the male gaze sucks" are clear, but there's lots of quippy banter mixed in.
The biggest issue for me was how all the diverse, sympathetic characters just kind of went along with developments that felt more reminiscent of 2020s Tumblr idiolect than 1100s Indian Ocean. How fortuitously convenient! (At least it got a Hugo nom.)
Smaller quibbles: the timeframe with Amina in her forties is appeSaling to the extent that it's a story about a working mother trying to follow her own dreams while also desperately missing her kid. But in order to make that work, the narrative sometimes withholds a lot of important information about the tragedies in Amina's past/her relationship with her child's father until it can be brought forward for dramatic effect, and it made me wonder what a story from the younger Amina's POV would look like without the artificial suspense problem.
More broadly, I felt like the second half's pace wasn't as crisp as the first--there's a dramatic near-death experience, then a bunch of fantastical creatures are introduced in quick succession as if to make up for the "worldbuilding via the actual world" stuff earlier, then we get a very contrived in-universe sequel hook, then we double back to a setting that had already been introduced. Whereas the first part was "we need to go to A to do B and then that gives us a clue that leads us to C."
Who wore it better?
Spinning Silver, by Naomi Novik
When I read "Uprooted" and griped about the implausible romance and/or reactive plot, people's reactions were "try Spinning Silver, it's an improvement in some of those ways." And yeah, it is! I was aware that Spinning Silver was set in the same world as Uprooted, ~1700s Eastern Europe but with some fantasy elements, and that it was based on Rumplestiltskin.
But it's a lot more than a simple retelling. "Spinning Silver" teases out the individual trope elements of Rumplestiltskin--a mercenary father trying to get his daughter to marry up, the dead mother looming over the plot, a woman given the impossible task of making gold out of other elements, terrible bargains, aloof and unknowable beings from the fae world, the power of knowing someone's true name, the horror of a mother trading her child to inhuman creatures--and blows them all up, turning them inside-out, and creating something original.
It also does a lot with POV. For the first chunk, we have two young women from a small town who go back and forth telling the stories of their business dealings. But as the book goes on, we start jumping into more and more people's heads, and everyone's voice is very different. Sometimes this can be used for dramatic irony; we hear what character A thinks of their interaction with B, then we jump back and tell the same scene from B's POV and what was going through their head is very different than what A assumes. Once in a while, this makes the plot drag--there's a couple of scenes towards the end where we can't have any suspense about "oh no, will they find what they're looking for" because we've just seen the corresponding scene from another POV, and it would have been more effective to rearrange them--but overall, things are propelled forward much more intriguingly than "Uprooted."
Our POV characters are:
The Staryk magic is kind of like...you can see their roads briefly if they make incursions in the human world, but as soon as they've disappeared, you start forgetting them and it really takes effort to remember. This means that if someone, like Miryem, disappears into the Staryk world, she's forgotten almost immediately except for little irregularities that don't seem right. These depictions were well-done. (Except that I was trying to remember if the Staryk were the same as the [jerk, mundane human] aristocrats in "Uprooted." They're not. I think I was half-remembering "Marek," the creepy prince, instead of "Staryk," the winter elves.)
There's a cool liminal space that sets up back-and-forth "communication" between the human and Staryk realms, and again, the multiple POVs are a good framework for this. On the other hand, there are some things, like, why do the Staryk want human gold, that are kind of chalked up to "magic idk" and not completely spelled out; for some of the confrontations at the end, again, it's better not to worry too much about hard magic systems and just go with the vibes. There's also an earlier plot that definitely plays the trope of "the less the audience knows about the plan, the more likely it is to succeed" trope straight.
Especially early on, it can be a very bleak "everyone sucks here" setting. Wanda and Stepon's father is horrific. Irina's father is mercenary and sets her up with Mirnatius, a dandy who abuses animals for fun. Nobody in the village respects Miryem's family, and when she tries to reclaim what she's due, her parents are horrified. The Staryk raid the village and carry off women and demand impossible tasks. There's a lot of "I have my wife to murder and Guilder to frame for it" coming from all sides. Even though the plot is moving forward, it's hard to feel like there's anything to root for.
But cracks of light shine through. Miryem's mother, and her mother, defy the "dead moms" trope, and are able to be loving parental figures to Wanda, Stepon, and their brother Sergey. Miryem's grandfather is wise and conscientious, warning her of the risks that some of her choices pose not only to their family but to the Vysnia Jewish community as a whole, but still recognizing she's mature enough to make her own choices. They even make use of a real-world Jewish blessing for the first blossoming of trees in the spring. Even when people are trying to be cold, sometimes they're just too human!
Bingo: Alliterative Title, Under the Surface (not for most of the plot, but there is a secret tunnel that gets use), Multi-POV (and how!)
The Infinite Arena (edited by Terry Carr)
Anthology of SF short stories about sports, stumbled upon while browsing a used bookstore. I like sports and the first one was based on "Casey at the Bat," so okay, sold.
It's from 1977, and the stories were originally published in the 40s-70s timeframe. The sex ratio among writers appears to be nine men, zero women, which is pretty "impressive" considering there are only seven stories. Three of them are installments from series that feature the same recurring character(s), so maybe that explains some of the...paucity? I don't want to say they're "flat" or "shallow" or anything, most of the contemporary "deep" stuff isn't to my taste either, but it feels like there's "no 'there' there" for several of these. In some cases, it's like, "we have to raise the stakes by involving gambling/someone's fate being on the line"; in others, it's looking for parallels between sports and other aspects of life (warfare? weird alien insects?) that provide the impetus for two plots to intertwine.
-Joy in Mudville (Poul Anderson and Gordon R. Dickson)--very impressionable and earnest teddy-bear-like alien species imprints on humans, and immediately become obsessed with baseball. One of the aliens names himself Mighty Casey, but unfortunately, opponents can rattle him by reminding him of how "Casey at the Bat" turned out. Fortunately, what poetry can break, poetry can also fix...
-The Body Builders (Keith Laumer)--the best of the stories, in my opinion, in that it predicts both technological advancement and the social changes that will ensue in a clever way.
-Mr. Meek Plays Polo (Clifford D. Simak)--guy who has only seen one space polo game in his life somehow accidentally stumbles into being the "expert" space polo coach, oops. Also there are weird alien bugs that are great at computation (a little like "The Circle").
-Sunjammer (Arthur C. Clarke, whose name is spelled wrong on the front cover)--a solar flare interrupts a solar sailboat race. Felt timely given the storm of a few days ago! (I did not get to see the aurora, alas.)
-Run to Starlight (George R. R. Martin)--short and slow but extremely muscular aliens enter an American football league and crush everyone, metaphorically and literally. However, the aliens' concepts of sports and competition don't necessarily align with the humans'. Too bad he never wrote anything else ;)
Bingo: 5+ short stories.
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"Lonely Castle in the Mirror" is a genre-savvy portal fantasy about junior high students who get drawn into a mysterious castle when they're supposed to be in school. Kokoro had a terrible experience early in the school year that's made her terrified of facing her classmates, and develops some kind of (psychosomatic?) illness that prevents her from attending either the normal school or a special alternative school for students who need more support. Shortly after this, her bedroom mirror turns into a portal to the castle with six other students who are also not in school during the normal hours. The "Wolf Queen" in charge--an elementary school girl who enjoys allusions to "Little Red Riding Hood"--tells them all that there's a secret key in the castle that can grant one wish, and they have a year to find it and, potentially, use it. Also, if anyone is caught in the castle outside of the 9-5 school day timeframe, they'll all be eaten by a wolf.
So, these painfully shy students have the opportunity to make friends and have a non-terrifying experience with kids their own age, and they all enjoy bonding and playing video games and drinking tea together, and for the most part nobody cares about finding the key, because that would make the castle close and prematurely end their new friendship. For most of the book, the contrived quest stuff doesn't play into it. And then when it does, it kind of lampshades "oh yeah I have to do this on speedrun mode."
There are a lot of takes pointing out that books where "the magic goes away"/"everyone loses their memories"/"we just have to move on with our lives and pretend like the portal fantasy never happened" can be pretty messed up. In this book, however, I couldn't find myself relating to the characters because it felt like a perverse incentives situation. Yes, middle school is an emotionally volatile, turbulent, unpleasant environment full of many immature people. This is a pretty common experience, actually. Kokoro just can't handle it, and as a response, the infinitely patient teacher at the alternative school reassures her mother that she's battling really hard and it's not her fault, she just can't go to school, and then she gets to go through a portal into fantasy world with people who play video games and eat snacks all day...? I understand there's more to it than that, but something has to change about this situation because otherwise this really isn't the message you want to send. (Once we learn about the backgrounds and life situations of some of the other students, I can imagine how it was easier for people like Subaru and Aki to fall through the cracks, but it feels like, eg, Masamune and Ureshino's junior high situation should have had some kind of guidance counselor or adult in the room. The readers' guide in the back of the book describes Kokoro as a "futoko," and I understand this is more pervasive in Japan than elsewhere, but I have a hard time accepting that seventh graders staying home for months on end with no apparent homeschooling or tutoring gets such a shrug.)
The prose didn't really grab me, sometimes it felt awkward ("That day, Fuka apparently enjoyed the chocolates back home, for she faithfully reported to Kokoro that 'they were delicious.'") and there were a several parts with very. short. one. line. paragraphs.
Kokoro tried to convince herself that she hadn't been at home that day. Miori and the others had simply pounded on the door of an empty house, trampled over the patio, gone round and round over outside of the house. But nothing actually happened. Nothing at all. She never was about to be killed. And yet the next day, she said, "I have a stomachache." And she really did. It was no lie. And her mother chimed in: "You do look pale. Are you OK?" And that's when Kokoro stopped going to school.A few paragraphs later:
Would she be able to protect herself?Girl, I know your mental health isn't the greatest, but we're talking about the place where people threatened you with being eaten alive by a wolf. ??? Sorry, my suspension of belief does not extend this far.
The only place she could now go to freely from her bedroom was the castle.
If I'm in the castle, she started to think, then I'll be safe.
Only the castle beyond the mirror could offer her complete protection.
There's also a random red herring with a neighbor student whose father has an interest in researching fairy tales, and like, maybe that "real world" location/characters are related in some way to the portal world? No, it's just a fortuitous coincidence that helps Kokoro have access to more Western fairy tale info.
The good news is, about halfway through the characters start developing some genre-savviness and realizing what they have in common, and towards the end, things pick up significantly in terms of how and why some of the arbitrary fairy-tale logic came about. So it definitely sticks the landing in that way.
Bingo: Prologue/Epilogue, Author of Color, Book Club
Promise of the Flame, by Sylvia Louise Engdahl
At the end of "Stewards of the Flame," to which this book is a sequel, our heroes Jesse, Carla, and Peter had hijacked a spaceship and jumped to an uninhabited planet to set up a colony where humans could develop psionic powers free from the medical bureaucracy of Undine. Jesse's hyperspace jump was rushed and not perfectly calculated, so in order to ensure their oxygen supply makes it all the way to planet Maclairn (named after their late founder), the Group had to confront their deepest fear and brave the stasis boxes that had been Chekhov-gunned several times in the last section. As the existence of the sequel implies, the protagonists and most of their comrades survive stasis. But while, in "Stewards," the hyperspace navigation "error"/imperfection sets up the Group's ultimate test, here it casts a long shadow as Jesse keeps wondering, "could we have picked a better landing site if I hadn't screwed it up?"
The early days on Maclairn are a struggle. The first part of the book is a recurring cycle of "should we do things this way or that way? Well, we came here to set up a society fully founded on mind powers, we pretty much have to commit to the bit or else what's the point." Repeat ad infinitum. Later, this broadens somewhat to "we have to have psi powers coexist with modern technology to fulfill Ian [Maclairn]'s dream, otherwise what's the point." There are clear parallels to (Engdahl's older trilogy) "Children of the Star"; that society represents the endpoint if they go down a path of giving up on modern technology--and the burdens of agrarian, high-population-growth societies fall disproportionately on women. If "Stewards" had motifs of baptism, this is more of an Exodus story, with the characters sulking about "why did you bring us out of Undine just to starve in the wilderness, at least there we had enough to eat." "My God, came Carla’s thought, we’re homesick! Homesick for Undine! I never admitted that to myself, it was so foolish, I’d wanted so much to leave . . . I guess I just pushed it down inside, into a place I didn’t dare go. . . ."
The consequences of the hyperspace jump being off are a minor tonal retcon/change in perspective on the events of the first book. A more significant one, to me, involves love triangle dynamics. In "Stewards," we learn that Carla and Peter both previously had spouses who died under the authoritarian Undine government. Fortunately, Jesse shows up just when Carla is ready to love again, and their relationship brings him into the Group and thus enables their escape from Undine. "Promise" adds that Peter has been silently pining for Carla all along, but needed Jesse's starship skills too much to say anything. We're told the Group's adult recruits skew slightly female, but that isn't represented among the main characters, and you're telling me that none of them are Peter's type? All three of them sigh and angst about "oh, we're such great friends, we can't let this love triangle come between us," and at times it feels like it's setting up for a polygamy plotline (they're all highly powerful telepaths, they can't keep secrets from each other!) And then it just...goes nowhere. As in the first book, I can accept that sex is probably great among telepaths; I can't buy that every single person has to have sex in order to fully level up their telepathic sensitivity!
The best parts of "Promise" involve the culture clashes between Jesse, who grew up on Earth; the rest of the adult Group members, from Undine; and the Maclairn-born generation. Undine's environment is so tightly regulated, they don't even have insects or lizards, so the planet's "collective unconsciousness" doesn't have a fear of creepy-crawlies; Jesse's initial revulsion risks "contaminating" the psyche until everyone faces their fear.
“Horror vids involving animal life aren’t permitted on colony worlds,” Peter told him. “Haven’t you ever wondered why starship libraries don’t contain any? Earth has always banned their export as a measure to protect extraterrestrial lifeforms. It’s one of the few government trade regulations I think is wise.” Of course, Jesse realized. The average Earth citizen’s reaction would have been to kill the crawlies—if possible, to exterminate them. That hadn’t occurred to anyone yesterday. And horror vids often portrayed even intelligent aliens as repulsive; what kind of precedent would that set if similar ones were ever encountered?On the other hand, the scope of "this is dangerous, but we must, to commit to the psionic bit" and "well, we've come through a lot of tough situations before, but this time really is the end...jk never mind we got out of it" got repetitive. There was one scene towards the end where it's like "okay, we're almost done, I can see how telepathy might be used to enable a permanent self-sacrifice...nope, we're still going, huh," and even though some of the resolutions were nice callbacks/tying up foreshadowing, it was still a lot.
Traditionally, said the knowledgebase, small farmers had chopped chickens’ heads off with a hatchet. Wringing their necks was said to be more humane, but nobody wanted to experiment on live, squawking chickens despite the specific instructions provided. These warned that the hardest part, in the physical sense, would be catching a grown chicken in the first place—a fact soon borne out by experience, as chickens are not devoid of telepathic sensitivity and the pursuers were unconsciously broadcasting their intent to kill.
Kel, like many of the Group’s other children, had been slow in learning to talk. It had taken awhile before it dawned on the adults that this was because the kids’ telepathic bonds with their parents had been so strongly encouraged that they felt no need to communicate vocally. Speech could not be allowed to die out in a psi-based culture; it was essential not only to reading but to the framing and communication of complex ideas. Now, everyone realized that like the skills for volitional control of the body, telepathic conveyance of concepts, as distinguished from emotions, must wait until the kids were older.
Like in James P. Hogan's "Voyage to Yesteryear," the kids who were raised outside of Earth and Undine's prejudices are, overall, a great step forward for humankind, but there can be some values dissonance. In both cases, the desire for lots of population growth leads to a much lower age of consent than Earthlings are used to. Justified somewhat more in Maclairn's case; telepathy means almost everyone wouldn't fathom hurting each other and of course sex is consensual, as well as amazing. On the other hand, in both cases, there's no prison infrastructure; if someone is determined to be evil and is posing a grave threat to others, you just have to kill them. "Promise" gets a little more philosophical about the problem of evil--if it's not nature and it's not nurture, what causes it? Free will? Sure, but it seems as if some people are also evil from day one even if their DNA is just fine.
There are a couple shoutouts to Lord of the Rings and Star Trek that fit in nicely. I found "it's just like using the Force, you know, like in that old vid, Star Wars" to be more of a distraction. Similarly, Engdahl's commitment to showing her work ("in the twentieth century on Earth, you know, people experimented with remote viewing!") got to be a distraction. But the exploration of "okay, let's try a rain dance, even if it fails we're learning something and pushing knowledge forward" was a great use of the "sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic" trope, which is what I come to Engdahl for anyway.
Some people, like Peter, tend to believe in an afterlife; others, like Jesse, are more skeptical. Earth religions don't transfer well to other planets because the interstellar gap is too big for the collective unconsciousness to bridge. Despite this, characters use the word "God" (like in a telepathic context of "Carla . . . oh, God, Carla, answer me!") approximately 144 times. Do you have no one else's name to take in vain???
Criticisms aside, I do think that this is less heavy-handed than "Stewards" and at least as good a starting point!
Bingo: Dreams, Prologues/Epilogues, Self-Published, Survival. One prominent character acquires a physical disability midway through the story. Jesse and Peter's Criminal record on Undine is not very important (since the entire book is set on or around Maclairn), but it becomes more prominent in the last section.
The Adventures of Amina al-Sirafi, by Shannon Chakraborty
Once upon a time (1100s Indian Ocean) there was a notorious nakhudha (pirate captain) named Amina al-Sirafi. Ten years ago, she retired, and now she's a single mom with a bad knee and a leaky roof. However, a wealthy noblewoman who believes her granddaughter has been kidnapped by a Western European would-be sorcerer insists on having Amina rescue her, never mind Amina's own family responsibilities. So Amina has to put the band back together, staying one step ahead of the authorities while getting to the bottom of the mystery.
Amina and her crew are likable rogues. I found this easier to get into than Chakraborty's "City of Brass". That book focused more on a long-term conflict between two factions, neither of whom consistently seem like the "good guys"; maybe that's supposed to be sending a message about RL actually works, but I found it confusing at times. In contrast, the early sections of "Amina" are about tracking down individual allies, from a gay smuggler stuck in a prison in Aden, to a navigator and family man in Mogadishu, while researching the notorious Falco Palamenestra and speculating what he might be up to.
At first, Amina's Muslim identity comes through more in the ways characters talk, and some level of monster-fighting exorcism (like Catholicism in some horror movies), than actual practice. But gradually, we see more of how she's struggled to be a parent in her post-pirate life:
If the criminal past didn’t alert you, I have not always been a very good Muslim. Drinking and missing prayer were among my lesser sins, and if I tried to straighten myself up every year when Ramadan rolled around—a new life of piety easy to imagine while dazed with thirst and caught up in the communal joy of taraweeh—I typically lapsed into my usual behavior by the time the month of Shawwal had ended.To me, this rang true as a depiction of a complicated, realistic, person of faith.
But then Marjana was born. And Asif was . . . lost. And if one of these events made me feel as though I had no right to ever call upon God again, the other filled with me a driving need I could not deny. So I keep my daily prayers, even if I feel unworthy the entire time.
This is a time and place that I knew very little about. For instance, one plotline involves the island of Socotra, an island off the coast of Somalia which is today part of Yemen. There are caves there with graffiti from sailors going back thousands of years, in Indian and Greek and Ethiopic scripts. This is a real place! I would not have been able to tell you anything about it before reading this book! So Chakraborty's vivid descriptions of places this, and of the diverse cultures and religious backgrounds of pirates who live and work alongside each other, is compelling. There's a danger in this as a reader, though, in that getting too caught up in the "worldbuilding" of the actual world can make it feel like its "foreignness" is what makes it speculative and fantastical, which is obviously inaccurate and beside the point. That's one reason why jumping in at the deep end with an honest-to-goodness sea monster in chapter one might have been a good choice, to remind us that there really are otherworldly things happening.
The themes of "rich people love to jerk poor people around" and "the male gaze sucks" are clear, but there's lots of quippy banter mixed in.
“That was you, was it not? The woman who poisoned the soldiers at the wali’s office, freed a crew of homicidal pirates, set a score of ships on fire, and fled the harbor in the middle of the night?” “I would never confirm such a thing and put you at risk of consorting with criminals. But it was two ships, not a score. I wouldn’t wish to encourage exaggeration.”The book contains a few chapters that are "in-universe documentation" or chronicles of the places and people in the main narrative. This is a trope I really enjoy at times. However, in this case, I didn't feel it added much, beyond underscoring the themes that "men feel threatened by powerful women, oh no."
Sailing past its ancient breakwater—the stones said to have been set there by giants—you might feel as though you have entered a mythical port of magic from a sailor’s yarn. You would be sorely mistaken. Aden is where magic goes to be crushed by the muhtasib’s weights, and if wonder could be calculated, this city would require an ordinance taxing it.
“She knows you are a pirate?” “I am not a pirate,” Majed huffed. “I am a cartographer with a checkered past.” “Yes. A checkered past of piracy.”
The biggest issue for me was how all the diverse, sympathetic characters just kind of went along with developments that felt more reminiscent of 2020s Tumblr idiolect than 1100s Indian Ocean. How fortuitously convenient! (At least it got a Hugo nom.)
Smaller quibbles: the timeframe with Amina in her forties is appeSaling to the extent that it's a story about a working mother trying to follow her own dreams while also desperately missing her kid. But in order to make that work, the narrative sometimes withholds a lot of important information about the tragedies in Amina's past/her relationship with her child's father until it can be brought forward for dramatic effect, and it made me wonder what a story from the younger Amina's POV would look like without the artificial suspense problem.
More broadly, I felt like the second half's pace wasn't as crisp as the first--there's a dramatic near-death experience, then a bunch of fantastical creatures are introduced in quick succession as if to make up for the "worldbuilding via the actual world" stuff earlier, then we get a very contrived in-universe sequel hook, then we double back to a setting that had already been introduced. Whereas the first part was "we need to go to A to do B and then that gives us a clue that leads us to C."
Who wore it better?
“It is invalid!” I burst out. “Our nikah. It is not permissible for me to marry a non-Muslim.” Raksh frowned. “Is that why the man had me say all those words about God and prophets?” He returned to studying the contract. “Trust me, dear wife, I can be a vast number of things.” “But—but you are not a believer.” “Of course I am. Best to know the competition, yes?”Compare "Alif the Unseen" (which is one of my favorites and I suspect I probably was harsh on "City of Brass" by comparison):
"But I told him I couldn't marry him even if I wanted to, because I can't marry an unbeliever. And he laughed and said he'd been a believer, 'for a the better part of a thousand years,' I believe were the exact words." "What?" said Alif. "Vikram? Vikram the madman who bites people?" "He might be those things," said the convert hastily, "but did you ever know him to do or say anything really blasphemous?" "I guess not."Bingo: Alliterative Title, Criminals, Dreams, Reference Materials, Readalong! It's planned to be First in a Series but the sequels aren't out yet. (Statistics from last year just came out and this was the most popular book across all 2023 bingo cards, with ~200 reads!)
Spinning Silver, by Naomi Novik
When I read "Uprooted" and griped about the implausible romance and/or reactive plot, people's reactions were "try Spinning Silver, it's an improvement in some of those ways." And yeah, it is! I was aware that Spinning Silver was set in the same world as Uprooted, ~1700s Eastern Europe but with some fantasy elements, and that it was based on Rumplestiltskin.
But it's a lot more than a simple retelling. "Spinning Silver" teases out the individual trope elements of Rumplestiltskin--a mercenary father trying to get his daughter to marry up, the dead mother looming over the plot, a woman given the impossible task of making gold out of other elements, terrible bargains, aloof and unknowable beings from the fae world, the power of knowing someone's true name, the horror of a mother trading her child to inhuman creatures--and blows them all up, turning them inside-out, and creating something original.
It also does a lot with POV. For the first chunk, we have two young women from a small town who go back and forth telling the stories of their business dealings. But as the book goes on, we start jumping into more and more people's heads, and everyone's voice is very different. Sometimes this can be used for dramatic irony; we hear what character A thinks of their interaction with B, then we jump back and tell the same scene from B's POV and what was going through their head is very different than what A assumes. Once in a while, this makes the plot drag--there's a couple of scenes towards the end where we can't have any suspense about "oh no, will they find what they're looking for" because we've just seen the corresponding scene from another POV, and it would have been more effective to rearrange them--but overall, things are propelled forward much more intriguingly than "Uprooted."
Our POV characters are:
- Miryem, the daughter of the village moneylender. Miryem's family is Jewish, which means her father is one of the few people socially permitted to work as a moneylender--but he's more interested in currying favor with the neighbors than getting his debts repaid, so his family goes hungry. Miryem steps up, grows "cold" and "wintry," and takes on his job, to her parents' horror. But an offhand remark about "look, I can turn silver into gold" (metaphorically, because of, you know, capitalism) inadvertently catches the ear of the "Staryk," monstrous elven raiders who live in a parallel realm.
- Wanda, the daughter of an abusive alcoholic. Miryem is like "he can't pay off his debt because he's drunk everything away, I'll have them repay me by hiring Wanda to assist me with our work, I know this is cold and ruthless but I have to." Then when we see it from Wanda's POV she's like "you're giving me money to be out of the house and away from my father? And you'll even feed me? What an undeserved kindness!" Her reaction to "learning to manipulate numbers and do arithmetic is an amazing kind of magic!" felt cheesy and over-the-top, but the contrast between the literal phrasing of a royal decree and the way she "translates" it was more convincing.
- Irina, the daughter of the duke of Vysnia (Vilnius, Lithuania). Like Wanda, her mother is dead and her father is trying to arrange the most profitable marriage for her, never mind what she wants. When Miryem is compelled to turn magical Staryk silver into gold, she does so by having an acquaintance forge silver jewelry which the duke purchases--so when the gold takes on magical powers in the Staryk world, so does the silver with Irina, and brings her to the attention of a tsar. Despite her cold relationship with her father, she learns a lot from him and is a true politician, adept as anyone at cutting deals to keep her realm safe.
- Stepon, Wanda's younger brother. His narration is very simple and childlike (amazing cold open with "I like goats because I know what they will do.") It's possible he has some kind of sensory/mental health issues, or it's possible he's just eleven and overstimulated by unfamiliar crowds.
- Magreta, Irina's nurse/caretaker. She can be kind and supportive, but her casual antisemitism provides a contrast to how Miryem is treated by the villagers.
- Mirnatius, the tsar. For a while we mostly see him through Irina's POV ("this guy is so full of himself he requires a new outfit every day, that's no way to manage the economy"), but again, his narration provides a very different perspective on what's going on.
The Staryk magic is kind of like...you can see their roads briefly if they make incursions in the human world, but as soon as they've disappeared, you start forgetting them and it really takes effort to remember. This means that if someone, like Miryem, disappears into the Staryk world, she's forgotten almost immediately except for little irregularities that don't seem right. These depictions were well-done. (Except that I was trying to remember if the Staryk were the same as the [jerk, mundane human] aristocrats in "Uprooted." They're not. I think I was half-remembering "Marek," the creepy prince, instead of "Staryk," the winter elves.)
There's a cool liminal space that sets up back-and-forth "communication" between the human and Staryk realms, and again, the multiple POVs are a good framework for this. On the other hand, there are some things, like, why do the Staryk want human gold, that are kind of chalked up to "magic idk" and not completely spelled out; for some of the confrontations at the end, again, it's better not to worry too much about hard magic systems and just go with the vibes. There's also an earlier plot that definitely plays the trope of "the less the audience knows about the plan, the more likely it is to succeed" trope straight.
Especially early on, it can be a very bleak "everyone sucks here" setting. Wanda and Stepon's father is horrific. Irina's father is mercenary and sets her up with Mirnatius, a dandy who abuses animals for fun. Nobody in the village respects Miryem's family, and when she tries to reclaim what she's due, her parents are horrified. The Staryk raid the village and carry off women and demand impossible tasks. There's a lot of "I have my wife to murder and Guilder to frame for it" coming from all sides. Even though the plot is moving forward, it's hard to feel like there's anything to root for.
But cracks of light shine through. Miryem's mother, and her mother, defy the "dead moms" trope, and are able to be loving parental figures to Wanda, Stepon, and their brother Sergey. Miryem's grandfather is wise and conscientious, warning her of the risks that some of her choices pose not only to their family but to the Vysnia Jewish community as a whole, but still recognizing she's mature enough to make her own choices. They even make use of a real-world Jewish blessing for the first blossoming of trees in the spring. Even when people are trying to be cold, sometimes they're just too human!
Bingo: Alliterative Title, Under the Surface (not for most of the plot, but there is a secret tunnel that gets use), Multi-POV (and how!)
The Infinite Arena (edited by Terry Carr)
Anthology of SF short stories about sports, stumbled upon while browsing a used bookstore. I like sports and the first one was based on "Casey at the Bat," so okay, sold.
It's from 1977, and the stories were originally published in the 40s-70s timeframe. The sex ratio among writers appears to be nine men, zero women, which is pretty "impressive" considering there are only seven stories. Three of them are installments from series that feature the same recurring character(s), so maybe that explains some of the...paucity? I don't want to say they're "flat" or "shallow" or anything, most of the contemporary "deep" stuff isn't to my taste either, but it feels like there's "no 'there' there" for several of these. In some cases, it's like, "we have to raise the stakes by involving gambling/someone's fate being on the line"; in others, it's looking for parallels between sports and other aspects of life (warfare? weird alien insects?) that provide the impetus for two plots to intertwine.
-Joy in Mudville (Poul Anderson and Gordon R. Dickson)--very impressionable and earnest teddy-bear-like alien species imprints on humans, and immediately become obsessed with baseball. One of the aliens names himself Mighty Casey, but unfortunately, opponents can rattle him by reminding him of how "Casey at the Bat" turned out. Fortunately, what poetry can break, poetry can also fix...
"You untentacled mammal! raged Ush Karuza. "You sslimeless conformation of bored flesh!" Alex had long ago discovered that mankind rarely reacts to insults couched in nonhuman terms. It did not offend him at all to be told that he was slimeless.-Bullard Reflects (Malcolm Jameson)--Dazzle Dart is a sport played by bouncing light rays around with reflective gear and aiming for a goal at the opponents' end. Like American football, one team is designated on offense at a time, and the other is on defense, but you can "intercept" and score from on defense. In Dazzle Dart, this is worth bonus points. Except instead of normal goals and "turnover" goals being worth one and two points respectively, it's twenty-five and fifty. And you thought Quidditch was silly. (This is from 1941.)
-The Body Builders (Keith Laumer)--the best of the stories, in my opinion, in that it predicts both technological advancement and the social changes that will ensue in a clever way.
So it's a little artificial maybe--but what about the Orggies, riding around in custom-built cars that are nothing but substitute personalities, wearing padded shoulders, contact lenses, hearing aids, false teeth, cosmetics, elevator shoes, rugs to cover their bald domes? If you're going to wear false eyelashes, why not false eyes? Instead of a nose bob, why not bob the whole face? At least a fellow wearing a Servo is honest about it, which is more than you can say for an Orggie doll in a foam-rubber bra--not that Julie needed any help in that department.-The Great Kladnar Race (Robert Silverberg and Randall Garrett)--bored humans on an alien planet try introducing something like horse races that they can bet on. However, the aliens' concepts of sports and competition and betting don't necessarily align with the humans'.
-Mr. Meek Plays Polo (Clifford D. Simak)--guy who has only seen one space polo game in his life somehow accidentally stumbles into being the "expert" space polo coach, oops. Also there are weird alien bugs that are great at computation (a little like "The Circle").
-Sunjammer (Arthur C. Clarke, whose name is spelled wrong on the front cover)--a solar flare interrupts a solar sailboat race. Felt timely given the storm of a few days ago! (I did not get to see the aurora, alas.)
-Run to Starlight (George R. R. Martin)--short and slow but extremely muscular aliens enter an American football league and crush everyone, metaphorically and literally. However, the aliens' concepts of sports and competition don't necessarily align with the humans'. Too bad he never wrote anything else ;)
Bingo: 5+ short stories.
2024.05.27 23:18 ru_moo Week 3 intro
Hi all! So it's week 3 of introducing Ichigo (4 month old neutered kitten) to Rukia (1.5 year old spayed female - resident cat). Scent swapping is great, they eat their lunches between the door open ajar and they play under the doors. So, today, after another supervised play we saw Rukia vocalizing and it seemed like she was trying to dominate Ichi (ears back, head toward him with neck outstretched). Ichi was getting close to her to play after they sniffed each other. No fights and Ru was redirected. Is this normal? Do you have any suggestions?
submitted by ru_moo to CatTraining [link] [comments]
2024.05.27 22:59 Alive_Can1709 Nobody knows what's going on and I'm tempted to give up and just accept that this is just my life right now.
I'll try to keep this short and skip a lot of back story for the sake of this being a managable read. I'm Norwegian so some words might be "directly translated". Sorry for any misunderstandings or mistakes.
I've had seizures or seizure-like episodes for about 8 years now. I didn't get referred to a neurologist until several years of complaints about this to my then doctor. I eventually got referred to a specialist hospital in my country which specializes in epilepsy and PNES. I'm going in for round 3 at this specialist hospital (every visit is 2 weeks where they do tests, EEG, sleep deprivation and just observing). I've been tested for balance issues, first I got wrongly diagnosed with vasovagal syncope, had an MRI with no finds, several ECG's and EEG-sessions.
Nothing. Nothing shows up on the EEG even under a seizure. MRI and blood completeley normal. I'm as healthy as can be according to this...
But I still have seizures. They aren't TC, Grand-mal, drop attacks or anything dramatic. I think closest description is simple partial/focal seizures with awareness. They vary in severeness but definitely come around more often when I'm sleep deprived.
The strange thing is that I never forget that I've had a seizure. I can remember everything, I am aware under the whole episode and I can remember what's been said to me. But I don't have control over most of my body. Ususally right upper body is affected with cramps and stiffness in face, neck, shoulder, arm etc. Even during severe seizures where most of my body is affected I remember it (wish I couldn't). I always get warning signs. They can come randomly, in environments with a lot of noise over a period of time, or if I haven't slept enough. I'm not an anxious person and I've never struggled with depression (clinically). I've had the normal ups and downs of life like any other person. I loose the ability to speak under a seizure. I might have the thought in my head, but i can't vocalize it. Sometimes I cry, do repetetive hand movement and mouth movements like licking. My pupils usually dilates, my breathing becomes mechanic and I sometimes hold my breath for a while. There are more things I could mention.
The hospital did a psych evaluation on me and both me, the nurses and the psychologist don't think it's PNES and I really don't fit the profile for it. They've revoked my driver's license.
I've been on Lamictal(lamotrigine) since 2020 which has significantly reduced my seizures, so they obviously works. Still, no one has an answer yet and I'm without any diagnosis. I feel like my neurologists, nurses and the other health care providers do all they can for me, so it's not because of "incompetence" or lack of care. This hospital really is the best place I can be. They say I present with symptoms that seem or can be of epileptic nature, but also there's other symptoms that speaks against it. If nothing becomes of this last visit I might just call it quits, continue on the medication and just accept a sort of "symptom-diagnosis", because I just don't see the point. If not the best epilepsy specialty hospital in Scandinavia or even Europe can figure this out, I don't think anybody can.
Has anybody else similar types of seizure where they are fully aware?
submitted by Alive_Can1709 to Epilepsy [link] [comments]
I've had seizures or seizure-like episodes for about 8 years now. I didn't get referred to a neurologist until several years of complaints about this to my then doctor. I eventually got referred to a specialist hospital in my country which specializes in epilepsy and PNES. I'm going in for round 3 at this specialist hospital (every visit is 2 weeks where they do tests, EEG, sleep deprivation and just observing). I've been tested for balance issues, first I got wrongly diagnosed with vasovagal syncope, had an MRI with no finds, several ECG's and EEG-sessions.
Nothing. Nothing shows up on the EEG even under a seizure. MRI and blood completeley normal. I'm as healthy as can be according to this...
But I still have seizures. They aren't TC, Grand-mal, drop attacks or anything dramatic. I think closest description is simple partial/focal seizures with awareness. They vary in severeness but definitely come around more often when I'm sleep deprived.
The strange thing is that I never forget that I've had a seizure. I can remember everything, I am aware under the whole episode and I can remember what's been said to me. But I don't have control over most of my body. Ususally right upper body is affected with cramps and stiffness in face, neck, shoulder, arm etc. Even during severe seizures where most of my body is affected I remember it (wish I couldn't). I always get warning signs. They can come randomly, in environments with a lot of noise over a period of time, or if I haven't slept enough. I'm not an anxious person and I've never struggled with depression (clinically). I've had the normal ups and downs of life like any other person. I loose the ability to speak under a seizure. I might have the thought in my head, but i can't vocalize it. Sometimes I cry, do repetetive hand movement and mouth movements like licking. My pupils usually dilates, my breathing becomes mechanic and I sometimes hold my breath for a while. There are more things I could mention.
The hospital did a psych evaluation on me and both me, the nurses and the psychologist don't think it's PNES and I really don't fit the profile for it. They've revoked my driver's license.
I've been on Lamictal(lamotrigine) since 2020 which has significantly reduced my seizures, so they obviously works. Still, no one has an answer yet and I'm without any diagnosis. I feel like my neurologists, nurses and the other health care providers do all they can for me, so it's not because of "incompetence" or lack of care. This hospital really is the best place I can be. They say I present with symptoms that seem or can be of epileptic nature, but also there's other symptoms that speaks against it. If nothing becomes of this last visit I might just call it quits, continue on the medication and just accept a sort of "symptom-diagnosis", because I just don't see the point. If not the best epilepsy specialty hospital in Scandinavia or even Europe can figure this out, I don't think anybody can.
Has anybody else similar types of seizure where they are fully aware?
2024.05.27 22:31 Mista9000 Perfectly Safe Demons -Ch 40- Unappreciated Gems
Chapter One
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.
Prev
-Sometime the following morning-
Taritha awoke to the unsettling sound of silence. She stared up at the heavy beams and planks of her new ceiling, feeling a wave of vertigo as she tried to recall where she was. For the first time in her life, she had woken up in an unfamiliar place. As she shifted, the magical mattress adjusted beneath her, and the memories flooded back. She was in the mage’s extraordinary factory-fortress-palace. She lived here now. A smile spread across her lips at the thought. Understanding the bed’s quirks now, it no longer bothered her. She got up confidently to start her day, instinctively ducking her head as she had in her old hovel. Straightening up, she noted that even if she jumped, her fingertips wouldn’t reach the beams above.
Taking in her sparse surroundings, her problems presented themselves. She couldn’t wash without warm water. She had no fire to heat the water. She also didn’t have any water.
There’s warm water in the dining hall, down on the first floor on the opposite corner of the huge building.
She sighed with resignation. So far away.
The young herbalist put on her official White Flame industries skirt and blouse, shaking out the wrinkles. As she slipped it on, a thought crept into her mind. It seemed like she’d overlooked the whole reason for the factory.
What if she didn’t have to go herself? Do the imps have a maximum range?
She invoked her imps, directed them to don their dresses and hats, then commanded, “Lady Bluebird, go to the kitchen and fetch me a large mug of hot water!” Her voice trembled a bit, unsure if she was doing it right, or inviting fresh disaster.
“Merp!” the tiny imp in a blue dress confirmed. It tugged the heavy bedroom door, to no avail.
Taritha pulled it open a crack, and the hellspawn squeezed out to bound down the hallway and out of sight.
While she waited for it to return, she emptied out her family’s ancient iron cook pot to use as a wash basin. It was mostly clean, even if it smelled of a thousand meals and was a bit sooty. She scarcely had it empty when her imp returned, a gorgeous iridescent mug of water held high over its sun-hatted head, trailing steam behind it. The little monster placed it on the floor in front of her, and stood with its ‘sisters’ in a row.
Truly a magical place, the water runs!
She dabbed one of her old raggy washcloths into the hot water to wash her face, neck and arms. Seeing the used water in the wash basin, another problem occurred to her. She couldn’t just fling it into the woods, not without a long walk. But this problem was just the mirror image of her first problem.
“Lady Crossbill and Miss Goldfinch, dump this water down the latrines, and then clean the pot, and return it to the room.” The red and yellow dressed imps merped in unison, and sprinted away with the wide iron pot, not spilling anything despite their speed. “Come Lady Bluebird, it’s time for breakfast!”
She walked the halls with a new perspective. It might be just that she was better rested, it might be that her first two real imp tasks worked perfectly but she could feel her misgivings fade already. It was exactly like she imagined nobles lived. One just says one’s wants out loud, and it becomes someone else’s problem. She used to think it was unfair, but now that she saw the other side of it, there was definitely some merit to the system. Besides, based on what Mage Thippily said, it wasn’t like the imps were even aware that they were serving, so it was no hardship to them.
She could smell breakfast as she came down the stairs. More accurately, a lord’s breakfast. Instead of porridge, she could smell bacon and eggs and fresh buns. As she came around the corner she stopped in involuntary panic, seeing that the counter crawled with tiny imps, darting about and wielding knives and spatulas as big as they were.
Of course, who else would make the meals here?
Some imps stood on the cooktop, entirely unaffected by the sizzling eggs on either side of their hooves, while others sliced fruit and veggies with phenomenal precision.
"Morning, Taritha! Hungry? How about a bit of everything?” Klive grinned. He wore an apron while ordering imps about the kitchen. He held a wooden spoon like a marshal's baton. There were far more imps than his three, but he commanded them all.
“Uh, sure?” She was badly overwhelmed, but hungry.
There were a few of the guards at a table, but none of the directors were to be seen. She overcame her shyness to sit with them, beside Jourgun.
“Good mornin’ Miss, how was your sleep?” he asked cheerfully.
“Took me a few tries to figure out the magic bed, but once I got that sorted, I don’t think there is even a comparison! I slept so well, and I feel great today!”
“Good! I’m glad you got it, Theros slept on the floor last night! Superstitious ninny!”
Theros rolled his eyes and raised his hands in frustration. “Dammit, you don’t have to tell everyone about that! Also I’m not superstitious, it’s just that the thing moved! I had no way of knowing it was safe! There’s demons here you know!” He hissed the last bit, as if he was worried that the demons were listening.
“Hah! Sure, not everyone has the courage of a peasant girl!” Jourgun asserted as he ate a thick slice of bacon. “No offence, miss.”
“I bet I face more scary things in a week than you lot do in a month! You should aspire to be as brave as a peasant girl!” she retorted with a smile. She wasn’t actually offended but it was important not to let things slide. She leaned over to whisper to her imp what kind of tea she’d like, and smiled even wider as it darted into the chaotic kitchen.
“Aye, my blood would run cold if I had to deal with sick wee ones, and dying old ones! I see you’re already getting the hang of these imps! I think Lord Thippily was too modest, they are way better than he let on,” the burly guard said.
“Mage Thipilly,” Taritha corrected.
“Might be Mage-Lord now, he owns productive lands now don’t he?” Rikad asked between bites of eggs covered with creamy dill sauce.
“Might be Archmage-Lord, I bet he’s better at magic than any of ‘em back at the mainland!” Theros speculated.
“Those terms have definitions he doesn’t meet, and that’s a poor way to speak of your betters.” Somehow Aethlina was standing behind them. Her tone was icy, which wasn't unusual for her. “I have business at the sawmill, two of you will accompany me.”
“At once, mi’lady.” Jourgun said, bowing deeply while wiping his face on his napkin. He smacked Theros on the shoulder as he rose, ”Just a moment for us to get our armour on!” The two men jogged out of the dining hall to the armoury.
The elv perched beside Taritha, her feet on the seat with her hands behind her back. It looked natural enough when she did it, but Taritha couldn't even imagine sitting in that posture.. The mysterious elv was wearing a stately flowing robe with the hood down, her plumage and narrow neck marking her inhuman heritage. The lighting was good enough for Taritha to see she was entirely covered in a nearly invisible fine downy fur. The conversation was entirely stopped, as all the humans became intensely interested in their plates, avoiding eye contact. The silence stretched and grew.
“So what are the requirements of those titles, Aethlina?” Taritha finally asked. In a society where forms of address and titles were the entire basis of one’s identity it was an important question. Calling Aethlina by name was a daring move to assert equality. Taritha blushed immediately, wondering if demons were already corrupting her manners.
Aethlina regarded her for long moments. “A Lord is nobility, a privilege granted by one’s liege. In this case, the Duke of Wavegate, which hasn’t been granted. The archmage title is awarded by the College of Magic upon completing ritualised tests, which he hasn’t done.” She kept her intense gaze on Taritha. “In the future, address me as Director of Operations, or Director Aethlina.”
“Yes, Director Aethlina. Thank you,” Taritha said with a gulp. The silence hung heavy, but the young herbalist was grateful for two imps when they delivered a plate heaped with breakfast. The imps exuded an air of comical authority. They both wore finely tailored miniature coats, complete with brass buttons and tiny cravats. Miniature satchels hung over their shoulders, and wide-brimmed hats, slightly askew, completed their meticulous ensembles, making them look like a caricature of a pair of merchants ready to strike a bargain.
The breakfast tasted even better than it smelled, and was her sole focus, anything to distract herself from the elv sitting beside her. Thankfully her relief came soon, as Aethlina rose.
“Strive to have a productive day,” Aethlina said, her voice cool and distant. She glided out the door to the central yard, her preternatural hearing picking up the faint sounds of Jourgun and Theros jogging back from the armoury. Clad in full mail and armed, they rushed across the dining hall to catch up to the Director.
“Addressing her by name?! I DO aspire to your courage! Maybe not your recklessness!” Rikad whispered once the heavy oak door to the yard shut behind the armoured men.
“What was I thinking? Light purify me! At least I lived to tell the tale!” She sighed with a bit of a tremble. She finished the rest of her meal and started to clear her dishes.
“Leave 'em, that's not people-work any more!” Klive called from the kitchen. She stopped, leaving a mess felt wrong, but she understood the reasoning. With a hurried thanks and a wave she darted out to the factory floor, where she hoped to find Mage Thippily. She’d assumed her normal lessons were on hold while he ramped up the factory, but knew she ought to double check.
The mage was exactly where she expected to find him, in the centre of his great production floor, surrounded by countless imps. It took her a second to remember that he was in no way limited to three like the rest of them were. It looked like an entire society of imps were darting around him. She stood in awed silence, just watching the spectacle of production. Raw materials eroded before her eyes as they took one plank, one bolt of cloth or cask of linseed oil at a time, as quick as a hen might peck for seeds. The imps themselves were perfectly silent, other than the odd ‘Merp’ as new commands were issued, but their tools made a jarring racket. There was sawing, planing, hammering, and other actions she couldn’t even describe.
“Oh, good morning, Miss Witflores! I’ll be with you in just a moment!” he said distractedly, before giving yet another series of commands to the imps.
“That’s fine, I just wanted to confirm that–” she started.
“I think they’ve got it now. Let’s watch them complete their orders, and we can start today’s lessons,” the demonologist said, taking off his wireframe glasses to clean the lenses on his shirtsleeve. Taritha noticed sawdust in his hair and beard.
The tiny imps began taking raw materials less frequently, while finished goods piled up at the far end of the line. The demonologist was fully focused on their work, so she remained silent, observing him. His lips twitched as if he was about to give new orders, but then relaxed. This happened almost constantly, his eyes darting from one end of the chaos to the other, as alert as a cat watching a squirrel.
Once the last dresser was built and stacked with the other furniture, they doubled back. The tiny, and to her eye naked, imps cleaned the entire area, replacing their tools and sitting cross-legged in a neat grid, covering a fair portion of the work area.
“Perfect! Just as I’d hoped!” The mage turned to leave the factory floor, and gestured for her to follow. “We’ll do your lessons in my chambers today. I’ll inspect their work later.”
“Oh, alright. We don’t–” She hustled to catch up with him.
“Actually today’s lesson will be a short one, I’ve some field work I’d like you to perform!” Demonologist Thippily was more energetic than she’d ever seen him. Gone was the normal weight of introspection and worry, in its place was a tornado of activity. If it wasn’t in bad taste, given his profession, she’d have even called him a man possessed.
“So as you are doubtlessly aware from our earlier discussions on mana field density coefficients, there is usually a slight natural variation?” he said as they ascended the steps to the third floor.
“I, uh, probably?” she said. The words were familiar, but didn’t connect to any concept in her mind.
“Anyways, there is a field of mana everywhere, like oxygen in air. And sometimes that mana is slightly more concentrated, and slightly less, again not that dissimilar to oxygen.” he continued as they walked quickly down the third floor hallway to his chambers.
“Yes! We breathe that!” she agreed confidently.
“I noticed that my imps were moving a bit slower today, which suggests they might be over-consuming local energies. Though powered by hellplane energy, the conduits rely on normal ambient mana.” He pushed his door open, revealing his chambers, more than twice the size of Taritha's.
The room was divided into distinct areas: a sleeping area, a library with a massive desk, and a cosy section with comfortable chairs for entertaining. These spaces were thoughtfully partitioned by plants, bookshelves, and painted room dividers. The room was well-lit by a series of narrow windows on the external wall, allowing beams of bright morning light to stream in. It looked centuries old but smelled of fresh sawdust and linseed oil.
“This is so nice! It’s huge!” she exclaimed, taking a seat in an ornate armchair. She ran a finger over the perfect woodwork, wondering if it had been crafted that morning or the night before. “And I felt guilty about how unreasonably big my room was!”
“Thank you! Don’t ever feel bad about that. Now, where was I? Ah, yes. I made this—a manometer to measure ambient mana.” He held up a short piece of wood with glowing lights on it. “The levels are noticeably lower on the factory floor than here. I’d like you to take some readings around town, and perhaps into the woods. The more data points, the better. Feel free to assign a guardsman to watch your back if you like.” He rummaged through his desk drawers, searching for something. Taritha’s ears perked up. This sounded a lot like having authority over the young men she worked with. She’d assumed she was organizationally far junior to them but had never asked for clarification.
“Here!” He handed her a small blank notebook, a graphite stylus, and the rough-cut piece of wood. Her gaze was drawn to the glowing parts that resembled gems. Its crude appearance stood in stark contrast to everything else she’d come to expect from him. The center-most gem was labelled with an ‘N,’ a plus sign above, and a minus sign below. The rest were unlabeled, as was the back.
“It’s just a prototype, but I’d like you to note your location and the readings. For instance, if you’re at the docks and these all light up, write ‘docks N+6’. If two gems below light up, you’d note ‘N-2’. Got it?”
“Seems simple enough.”
“I haven’t calibrated it properly, so any results are valuable, even if they seem useless,” the mage explained distractedly.
“Will do!” she said resolutely. “What are the little magic gems made of?” They were quite shiny and a soothing green.
“Just ordinary emeralds; the enchantment is all in the plank.” The world spun for a moment as she grasped the staggering value of a dozen cut emeralds of that size. She had no context, but she was sure lords had smaller stones in their swords or sceptres. She would definitely be getting an armed escort for this errand.
“Um, I’ll report back when I’m done,” she said bravely.
“Excellent! Carry on!” He grabbed a handful of books and papers and sat himself at his desk.
Taritha went a few doors down to her room to get a sturdy over-the-shoulder bag for her outing. She sat on her bed, marvelling at the treasure in her hands. It was clear that the mage had crafted it himself, and quickly. There was no consideration beyond function; the top of the wood wasn’t even square. Most baffling of all was the incredible wealth of gems casually attached. Each one was nearly the size of a pea. People died for things a sliver of the value of even one of those.
This is by far the most valuable thing these hands have ever held.
And he just handed it to me, like it was leftover toast!
And he made it sound like the emeralds weren’t the valuable part of the device!
And this bed and the imps would be vastly more valuable yet!
She closed her eyes and swallowed slowly. The true nature of the mage’s gifts hadn’t registered before. Where did she even fit in society anymore? She still felt like a hungry peasant girl from a drafty hovel, but that was at odds with what she held and what she sat on. Most curiously of all, the idea of stealing it didn’t even occur to her. The mage’s trust had somehow become more valuable than gemstones.
Don’t just sit there, be the person he thinks you are!
After a slight detour to get her imps to create a simple leather case for the garish instrument, she found Rikad in the armoury, unpacking crates of gear from the move.
“Where is everyone? Is it just you here?” she asked.
“Nah, a normal busy day, Klive’s on sentry and Kedril’s on gate. The Chief and the rest are about town. What’s up?” he said without stopping his work. He was putting gambesons on armour stands that mimicked a man's shoulders, then putting the heavy mail hauberks on top. The effect on the few he’d already finished were a lot like a headless armoured torso. There were several bare stands still waiting.
“Great news! Laundry day will have to wait. The mage asked me to take a survey around town and suggested I bring an armed protector!” she teased, her voice beaming with over the top enthusiasm.
“Well if the Lord Archmage said I shouldn't do my chores that’s good enough for me,Taritha.” He said with a smile. He stopped unpacking and started donning armour, making a point of getting his employer’s title wrong while addressing her by her first name.
Unsure how much privacy he needed she turned her back while he changed. “In the future you will address me as Medic Taritha,” she said with as much faux icy indifference as she could muster.
“Your ladyship shall have all the respect she deserves!” in far less time than she expected he touched her elbow, “Ready to proceed!” He was in full armour, including a closed helm and the white and purple company tabard. He had a longsword on his hip and a wide shield on his back. It looked like he strode off the cover of a fairy tale book, his mail even sparkled in the flickering lamplight.
“I feel safer already!” she started down the hallway and out of the building. “I’m just taking some readings from this new artefact that he made, and writing it in the book.” They waved to Kedril in the gatehouse as they left.
“So why did you want me around? This is your town, and folk here normally seem nice enough?” Rikad asked, his voice slightly tinny through his helm.
“You’ll see! Actually, this is probably a fine first reading.” They stopped just a few paces beyond the gate. She pulled out the manometer, and saw it was one over normal. “Here, hold this,” She passed him the gem encrusted object while she wrote the results in the notebook.
“Holy balls, are these…?” he stammered.
“Oh my no! Nothing special, just ordinary emeralds,” she said in her best professorial tones.
“Wow! That makes sense. I see why he’d worry about some new hire running off with this to start her own queendom, far over the horizon.”
“Strangely, it felt like an afterthought.” She put the manometer back in her bag along with her notebook. “He’s weird with money, isn’t he? If someone overcharged him five times the fair price, I bet he’d apologise and pay it!” she whispered.
“Not even kidding, that’s basically how my salary was agreed upon. And it's not normal even for other fancy folk. Some of my family worked for nobles back in Jagged, and they were the stingiest, most demanding jerks you’d ever meet!” They continued through the forest toward town. “I meant the nobles,” he clarified.
Taritha hadn’t spent much time with Rikad before but it was impossible not to smile around him. Part of her worried she couldn’t keep up with him, since he always was cracking on about something, but thankfully he didn’t seem to expect her to.
“Yeah, Mage Thippily isn’t what I expected. Not that I really knew what to expect. Do you think the town will go along with his Big Plan?” she said, intoning the last two words with gravitas.
The road passed near some outlying cottages, and Taritha stopped, quickly taking a reading and jotting down the results. She was getting better at being quicker and more subtle with the artefact.
“This town? No question. Have you not been to the pub lately? They toast to him more than they do to the Light, their count or their own wives! Don’t underestimate just how much the town has changed.”
“I grew up here! They hate things that don’t match their beliefs. If they knew the truth? You guys are gonna earn every glindi of your salary the day that gets out,” Taritha said. “Me too, for that matter.”
His helm scraped his shoulder pauldrons as he shook his head. “Nah, he’s done the hard work, won their trust, everything else is easy.”
She shook her head but didn’t reply. He didn’t know these people. Obviously no one would talk about their true reactions to some out-of-towner, in front of another out-of-towner.
“You don’t believe me, do you?” he said as they reached the trade district. She took another reading, smooth and quick; she didn’t even think Rikad saw the emeralds that time.
“I get why you think what you do,” she said diplomatically.
There was an old woman in her garden, just on the other side of the low fence they were walking by. She was mostly skin and bones and old enough to be either of their grandmothers. She knelt in her garden, pulling weeds in the midday sun, wearing an old patched dress with a wide straw hat.
“Excuse me, gran, do you mind if I ask you something?” Rikad asked politely, taking off his helm to make eye contact.
“Huh! Sure, anything for you!” Her voice was gravelly but clear. She stopped what she was doing and sat back on her bum. Her face was weathered and flushed from exertion.
“Would you consider the mage that moved here this spring a good thing for the town?” He spoke evenly, trying not to bias her answer.
“Mage Thippily is his name! You ought to know that, wearin’ his tabard and all! Best thing that’s happened to this town in my life! Ever! I spent six years in bed, couldn’t walk, just waitin’ to go into the Light! Now I feel like a teenager again! He fixed my back, he fixed my skin, fixed it all! I’m eighty-eight years old, and I’ve been gardening all day!”
“I’m glad to hear it! He’s a great man, and we are both honoured to work for him!” He nodded and started putting his helm back on. The floodgates were open, and she wasn’t done.
“Don’t think I don’t see you there, Taritha! I got good eyes again! Yer creams were a godsend! But now I’m gonna live until I’m two hundred! That mage couldn’t do anything wrong, not if he tried!”
“That’s incredible, ma’am, thank–” Rikad started.
“If he needs to eat babies, I’ll round up some for him! I ain't got a shortage of useless great-grandbabies! Shadows below, if he wants to pump a few babies into me, he’s welcome to ’em!”
“That’s very much not the–” Rikad said, slowly backing away, grateful for the low fence between them.
“Or did he send me his strapping young man to do the job?” By now she was standing with a mostly toothless grin, leaning over her fence. Rikad backpedalled more quickly. “Fine, be like that, but tell him that Abby Greyn is here for him!”
“Will do, gran! Have a good day now.” They walked quickly down the road to put some distance between them and the amorous oldster.
“I see, I may have misjudged the effect of helping people,” Taritha said, stifling a giggle.
Rikad chuckled, adjusting the chin strap on his helm. “I told you! He won more than just their trust!”
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submitted by Mista9000 to HFY [link] [comments]
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-Sometime the following morning-
Taritha awoke to the unsettling sound of silence. She stared up at the heavy beams and planks of her new ceiling, feeling a wave of vertigo as she tried to recall where she was. For the first time in her life, she had woken up in an unfamiliar place. As she shifted, the magical mattress adjusted beneath her, and the memories flooded back. She was in the mage’s extraordinary factory-fortress-palace. She lived here now. A smile spread across her lips at the thought. Understanding the bed’s quirks now, it no longer bothered her. She got up confidently to start her day, instinctively ducking her head as she had in her old hovel. Straightening up, she noted that even if she jumped, her fingertips wouldn’t reach the beams above.
Taking in her sparse surroundings, her problems presented themselves. She couldn’t wash without warm water. She had no fire to heat the water. She also didn’t have any water.
There’s warm water in the dining hall, down on the first floor on the opposite corner of the huge building.
She sighed with resignation. So far away.
The young herbalist put on her official White Flame industries skirt and blouse, shaking out the wrinkles. As she slipped it on, a thought crept into her mind. It seemed like she’d overlooked the whole reason for the factory.
What if she didn’t have to go herself? Do the imps have a maximum range?
She invoked her imps, directed them to don their dresses and hats, then commanded, “Lady Bluebird, go to the kitchen and fetch me a large mug of hot water!” Her voice trembled a bit, unsure if she was doing it right, or inviting fresh disaster.
“Merp!” the tiny imp in a blue dress confirmed. It tugged the heavy bedroom door, to no avail.
Taritha pulled it open a crack, and the hellspawn squeezed out to bound down the hallway and out of sight.
While she waited for it to return, she emptied out her family’s ancient iron cook pot to use as a wash basin. It was mostly clean, even if it smelled of a thousand meals and was a bit sooty. She scarcely had it empty when her imp returned, a gorgeous iridescent mug of water held high over its sun-hatted head, trailing steam behind it. The little monster placed it on the floor in front of her, and stood with its ‘sisters’ in a row.
Truly a magical place, the water runs!
She dabbed one of her old raggy washcloths into the hot water to wash her face, neck and arms. Seeing the used water in the wash basin, another problem occurred to her. She couldn’t just fling it into the woods, not without a long walk. But this problem was just the mirror image of her first problem.
“Lady Crossbill and Miss Goldfinch, dump this water down the latrines, and then clean the pot, and return it to the room.” The red and yellow dressed imps merped in unison, and sprinted away with the wide iron pot, not spilling anything despite their speed. “Come Lady Bluebird, it’s time for breakfast!”
She walked the halls with a new perspective. It might be just that she was better rested, it might be that her first two real imp tasks worked perfectly but she could feel her misgivings fade already. It was exactly like she imagined nobles lived. One just says one’s wants out loud, and it becomes someone else’s problem. She used to think it was unfair, but now that she saw the other side of it, there was definitely some merit to the system. Besides, based on what Mage Thippily said, it wasn’t like the imps were even aware that they were serving, so it was no hardship to them.
She could smell breakfast as she came down the stairs. More accurately, a lord’s breakfast. Instead of porridge, she could smell bacon and eggs and fresh buns. As she came around the corner she stopped in involuntary panic, seeing that the counter crawled with tiny imps, darting about and wielding knives and spatulas as big as they were.
Of course, who else would make the meals here?
Some imps stood on the cooktop, entirely unaffected by the sizzling eggs on either side of their hooves, while others sliced fruit and veggies with phenomenal precision.
"Morning, Taritha! Hungry? How about a bit of everything?” Klive grinned. He wore an apron while ordering imps about the kitchen. He held a wooden spoon like a marshal's baton. There were far more imps than his three, but he commanded them all.
“Uh, sure?” She was badly overwhelmed, but hungry.
There were a few of the guards at a table, but none of the directors were to be seen. She overcame her shyness to sit with them, beside Jourgun.
“Good mornin’ Miss, how was your sleep?” he asked cheerfully.
“Took me a few tries to figure out the magic bed, but once I got that sorted, I don’t think there is even a comparison! I slept so well, and I feel great today!”
“Good! I’m glad you got it, Theros slept on the floor last night! Superstitious ninny!”
Theros rolled his eyes and raised his hands in frustration. “Dammit, you don’t have to tell everyone about that! Also I’m not superstitious, it’s just that the thing moved! I had no way of knowing it was safe! There’s demons here you know!” He hissed the last bit, as if he was worried that the demons were listening.
“Hah! Sure, not everyone has the courage of a peasant girl!” Jourgun asserted as he ate a thick slice of bacon. “No offence, miss.”
“I bet I face more scary things in a week than you lot do in a month! You should aspire to be as brave as a peasant girl!” she retorted with a smile. She wasn’t actually offended but it was important not to let things slide. She leaned over to whisper to her imp what kind of tea she’d like, and smiled even wider as it darted into the chaotic kitchen.
“Aye, my blood would run cold if I had to deal with sick wee ones, and dying old ones! I see you’re already getting the hang of these imps! I think Lord Thippily was too modest, they are way better than he let on,” the burly guard said.
“Mage Thipilly,” Taritha corrected.
“Might be Mage-Lord now, he owns productive lands now don’t he?” Rikad asked between bites of eggs covered with creamy dill sauce.
“Might be Archmage-Lord, I bet he’s better at magic than any of ‘em back at the mainland!” Theros speculated.
“Those terms have definitions he doesn’t meet, and that’s a poor way to speak of your betters.” Somehow Aethlina was standing behind them. Her tone was icy, which wasn't unusual for her. “I have business at the sawmill, two of you will accompany me.”
“At once, mi’lady.” Jourgun said, bowing deeply while wiping his face on his napkin. He smacked Theros on the shoulder as he rose, ”Just a moment for us to get our armour on!” The two men jogged out of the dining hall to the armoury.
The elv perched beside Taritha, her feet on the seat with her hands behind her back. It looked natural enough when she did it, but Taritha couldn't even imagine sitting in that posture.. The mysterious elv was wearing a stately flowing robe with the hood down, her plumage and narrow neck marking her inhuman heritage. The lighting was good enough for Taritha to see she was entirely covered in a nearly invisible fine downy fur. The conversation was entirely stopped, as all the humans became intensely interested in their plates, avoiding eye contact. The silence stretched and grew.
“So what are the requirements of those titles, Aethlina?” Taritha finally asked. In a society where forms of address and titles were the entire basis of one’s identity it was an important question. Calling Aethlina by name was a daring move to assert equality. Taritha blushed immediately, wondering if demons were already corrupting her manners.
Aethlina regarded her for long moments. “A Lord is nobility, a privilege granted by one’s liege. In this case, the Duke of Wavegate, which hasn’t been granted. The archmage title is awarded by the College of Magic upon completing ritualised tests, which he hasn’t done.” She kept her intense gaze on Taritha. “In the future, address me as Director of Operations, or Director Aethlina.”
“Yes, Director Aethlina. Thank you,” Taritha said with a gulp. The silence hung heavy, but the young herbalist was grateful for two imps when they delivered a plate heaped with breakfast. The imps exuded an air of comical authority. They both wore finely tailored miniature coats, complete with brass buttons and tiny cravats. Miniature satchels hung over their shoulders, and wide-brimmed hats, slightly askew, completed their meticulous ensembles, making them look like a caricature of a pair of merchants ready to strike a bargain.
The breakfast tasted even better than it smelled, and was her sole focus, anything to distract herself from the elv sitting beside her. Thankfully her relief came soon, as Aethlina rose.
“Strive to have a productive day,” Aethlina said, her voice cool and distant. She glided out the door to the central yard, her preternatural hearing picking up the faint sounds of Jourgun and Theros jogging back from the armoury. Clad in full mail and armed, they rushed across the dining hall to catch up to the Director.
“Addressing her by name?! I DO aspire to your courage! Maybe not your recklessness!” Rikad whispered once the heavy oak door to the yard shut behind the armoured men.
“What was I thinking? Light purify me! At least I lived to tell the tale!” She sighed with a bit of a tremble. She finished the rest of her meal and started to clear her dishes.
“Leave 'em, that's not people-work any more!” Klive called from the kitchen. She stopped, leaving a mess felt wrong, but she understood the reasoning. With a hurried thanks and a wave she darted out to the factory floor, where she hoped to find Mage Thippily. She’d assumed her normal lessons were on hold while he ramped up the factory, but knew she ought to double check.
The mage was exactly where she expected to find him, in the centre of his great production floor, surrounded by countless imps. It took her a second to remember that he was in no way limited to three like the rest of them were. It looked like an entire society of imps were darting around him. She stood in awed silence, just watching the spectacle of production. Raw materials eroded before her eyes as they took one plank, one bolt of cloth or cask of linseed oil at a time, as quick as a hen might peck for seeds. The imps themselves were perfectly silent, other than the odd ‘Merp’ as new commands were issued, but their tools made a jarring racket. There was sawing, planing, hammering, and other actions she couldn’t even describe.
“Oh, good morning, Miss Witflores! I’ll be with you in just a moment!” he said distractedly, before giving yet another series of commands to the imps.
“That’s fine, I just wanted to confirm that–” she started.
“I think they’ve got it now. Let’s watch them complete their orders, and we can start today’s lessons,” the demonologist said, taking off his wireframe glasses to clean the lenses on his shirtsleeve. Taritha noticed sawdust in his hair and beard.
The tiny imps began taking raw materials less frequently, while finished goods piled up at the far end of the line. The demonologist was fully focused on their work, so she remained silent, observing him. His lips twitched as if he was about to give new orders, but then relaxed. This happened almost constantly, his eyes darting from one end of the chaos to the other, as alert as a cat watching a squirrel.
Once the last dresser was built and stacked with the other furniture, they doubled back. The tiny, and to her eye naked, imps cleaned the entire area, replacing their tools and sitting cross-legged in a neat grid, covering a fair portion of the work area.
“Perfect! Just as I’d hoped!” The mage turned to leave the factory floor, and gestured for her to follow. “We’ll do your lessons in my chambers today. I’ll inspect their work later.”
“Oh, alright. We don’t–” She hustled to catch up with him.
“Actually today’s lesson will be a short one, I’ve some field work I’d like you to perform!” Demonologist Thippily was more energetic than she’d ever seen him. Gone was the normal weight of introspection and worry, in its place was a tornado of activity. If it wasn’t in bad taste, given his profession, she’d have even called him a man possessed.
“So as you are doubtlessly aware from our earlier discussions on mana field density coefficients, there is usually a slight natural variation?” he said as they ascended the steps to the third floor.
“I, uh, probably?” she said. The words were familiar, but didn’t connect to any concept in her mind.
“Anyways, there is a field of mana everywhere, like oxygen in air. And sometimes that mana is slightly more concentrated, and slightly less, again not that dissimilar to oxygen.” he continued as they walked quickly down the third floor hallway to his chambers.
“Yes! We breathe that!” she agreed confidently.
“I noticed that my imps were moving a bit slower today, which suggests they might be over-consuming local energies. Though powered by hellplane energy, the conduits rely on normal ambient mana.” He pushed his door open, revealing his chambers, more than twice the size of Taritha's.
The room was divided into distinct areas: a sleeping area, a library with a massive desk, and a cosy section with comfortable chairs for entertaining. These spaces were thoughtfully partitioned by plants, bookshelves, and painted room dividers. The room was well-lit by a series of narrow windows on the external wall, allowing beams of bright morning light to stream in. It looked centuries old but smelled of fresh sawdust and linseed oil.
“This is so nice! It’s huge!” she exclaimed, taking a seat in an ornate armchair. She ran a finger over the perfect woodwork, wondering if it had been crafted that morning or the night before. “And I felt guilty about how unreasonably big my room was!”
“Thank you! Don’t ever feel bad about that. Now, where was I? Ah, yes. I made this—a manometer to measure ambient mana.” He held up a short piece of wood with glowing lights on it. “The levels are noticeably lower on the factory floor than here. I’d like you to take some readings around town, and perhaps into the woods. The more data points, the better. Feel free to assign a guardsman to watch your back if you like.” He rummaged through his desk drawers, searching for something. Taritha’s ears perked up. This sounded a lot like having authority over the young men she worked with. She’d assumed she was organizationally far junior to them but had never asked for clarification.
“Here!” He handed her a small blank notebook, a graphite stylus, and the rough-cut piece of wood. Her gaze was drawn to the glowing parts that resembled gems. Its crude appearance stood in stark contrast to everything else she’d come to expect from him. The center-most gem was labelled with an ‘N,’ a plus sign above, and a minus sign below. The rest were unlabeled, as was the back.
“It’s just a prototype, but I’d like you to note your location and the readings. For instance, if you’re at the docks and these all light up, write ‘docks N+6’. If two gems below light up, you’d note ‘N-2’. Got it?”
“Seems simple enough.”
“I haven’t calibrated it properly, so any results are valuable, even if they seem useless,” the mage explained distractedly.
“Will do!” she said resolutely. “What are the little magic gems made of?” They were quite shiny and a soothing green.
“Just ordinary emeralds; the enchantment is all in the plank.” The world spun for a moment as she grasped the staggering value of a dozen cut emeralds of that size. She had no context, but she was sure lords had smaller stones in their swords or sceptres. She would definitely be getting an armed escort for this errand.
“Um, I’ll report back when I’m done,” she said bravely.
“Excellent! Carry on!” He grabbed a handful of books and papers and sat himself at his desk.
Taritha went a few doors down to her room to get a sturdy over-the-shoulder bag for her outing. She sat on her bed, marvelling at the treasure in her hands. It was clear that the mage had crafted it himself, and quickly. There was no consideration beyond function; the top of the wood wasn’t even square. Most baffling of all was the incredible wealth of gems casually attached. Each one was nearly the size of a pea. People died for things a sliver of the value of even one of those.
This is by far the most valuable thing these hands have ever held.
And he just handed it to me, like it was leftover toast!
And he made it sound like the emeralds weren’t the valuable part of the device!
And this bed and the imps would be vastly more valuable yet!
She closed her eyes and swallowed slowly. The true nature of the mage’s gifts hadn’t registered before. Where did she even fit in society anymore? She still felt like a hungry peasant girl from a drafty hovel, but that was at odds with what she held and what she sat on. Most curiously of all, the idea of stealing it didn’t even occur to her. The mage’s trust had somehow become more valuable than gemstones.
Don’t just sit there, be the person he thinks you are!
After a slight detour to get her imps to create a simple leather case for the garish instrument, she found Rikad in the armoury, unpacking crates of gear from the move.
“Where is everyone? Is it just you here?” she asked.
“Nah, a normal busy day, Klive’s on sentry and Kedril’s on gate. The Chief and the rest are about town. What’s up?” he said without stopping his work. He was putting gambesons on armour stands that mimicked a man's shoulders, then putting the heavy mail hauberks on top. The effect on the few he’d already finished were a lot like a headless armoured torso. There were several bare stands still waiting.
“Great news! Laundry day will have to wait. The mage asked me to take a survey around town and suggested I bring an armed protector!” she teased, her voice beaming with over the top enthusiasm.
“Well if the Lord Archmage said I shouldn't do my chores that’s good enough for me,Taritha.” He said with a smile. He stopped unpacking and started donning armour, making a point of getting his employer’s title wrong while addressing her by her first name.
Unsure how much privacy he needed she turned her back while he changed. “In the future you will address me as Medic Taritha,” she said with as much faux icy indifference as she could muster.
“Your ladyship shall have all the respect she deserves!” in far less time than she expected he touched her elbow, “Ready to proceed!” He was in full armour, including a closed helm and the white and purple company tabard. He had a longsword on his hip and a wide shield on his back. It looked like he strode off the cover of a fairy tale book, his mail even sparkled in the flickering lamplight.
“I feel safer already!” she started down the hallway and out of the building. “I’m just taking some readings from this new artefact that he made, and writing it in the book.” They waved to Kedril in the gatehouse as they left.
“So why did you want me around? This is your town, and folk here normally seem nice enough?” Rikad asked, his voice slightly tinny through his helm.
“You’ll see! Actually, this is probably a fine first reading.” They stopped just a few paces beyond the gate. She pulled out the manometer, and saw it was one over normal. “Here, hold this,” She passed him the gem encrusted object while she wrote the results in the notebook.
“Holy balls, are these…?” he stammered.
“Oh my no! Nothing special, just ordinary emeralds,” she said in her best professorial tones.
“Wow! That makes sense. I see why he’d worry about some new hire running off with this to start her own queendom, far over the horizon.”
“Strangely, it felt like an afterthought.” She put the manometer back in her bag along with her notebook. “He’s weird with money, isn’t he? If someone overcharged him five times the fair price, I bet he’d apologise and pay it!” she whispered.
“Not even kidding, that’s basically how my salary was agreed upon. And it's not normal even for other fancy folk. Some of my family worked for nobles back in Jagged, and they were the stingiest, most demanding jerks you’d ever meet!” They continued through the forest toward town. “I meant the nobles,” he clarified.
Taritha hadn’t spent much time with Rikad before but it was impossible not to smile around him. Part of her worried she couldn’t keep up with him, since he always was cracking on about something, but thankfully he didn’t seem to expect her to.
“Yeah, Mage Thippily isn’t what I expected. Not that I really knew what to expect. Do you think the town will go along with his Big Plan?” she said, intoning the last two words with gravitas.
The road passed near some outlying cottages, and Taritha stopped, quickly taking a reading and jotting down the results. She was getting better at being quicker and more subtle with the artefact.
“This town? No question. Have you not been to the pub lately? They toast to him more than they do to the Light, their count or their own wives! Don’t underestimate just how much the town has changed.”
“I grew up here! They hate things that don’t match their beliefs. If they knew the truth? You guys are gonna earn every glindi of your salary the day that gets out,” Taritha said. “Me too, for that matter.”
His helm scraped his shoulder pauldrons as he shook his head. “Nah, he’s done the hard work, won their trust, everything else is easy.”
She shook her head but didn’t reply. He didn’t know these people. Obviously no one would talk about their true reactions to some out-of-towner, in front of another out-of-towner.
“You don’t believe me, do you?” he said as they reached the trade district. She took another reading, smooth and quick; she didn’t even think Rikad saw the emeralds that time.
“I get why you think what you do,” she said diplomatically.
There was an old woman in her garden, just on the other side of the low fence they were walking by. She was mostly skin and bones and old enough to be either of their grandmothers. She knelt in her garden, pulling weeds in the midday sun, wearing an old patched dress with a wide straw hat.
“Excuse me, gran, do you mind if I ask you something?” Rikad asked politely, taking off his helm to make eye contact.
“Huh! Sure, anything for you!” Her voice was gravelly but clear. She stopped what she was doing and sat back on her bum. Her face was weathered and flushed from exertion.
“Would you consider the mage that moved here this spring a good thing for the town?” He spoke evenly, trying not to bias her answer.
“Mage Thippily is his name! You ought to know that, wearin’ his tabard and all! Best thing that’s happened to this town in my life! Ever! I spent six years in bed, couldn’t walk, just waitin’ to go into the Light! Now I feel like a teenager again! He fixed my back, he fixed my skin, fixed it all! I’m eighty-eight years old, and I’ve been gardening all day!”
“I’m glad to hear it! He’s a great man, and we are both honoured to work for him!” He nodded and started putting his helm back on. The floodgates were open, and she wasn’t done.
“Don’t think I don’t see you there, Taritha! I got good eyes again! Yer creams were a godsend! But now I’m gonna live until I’m two hundred! That mage couldn’t do anything wrong, not if he tried!”
“That’s incredible, ma’am, thank–” Rikad started.
“If he needs to eat babies, I’ll round up some for him! I ain't got a shortage of useless great-grandbabies! Shadows below, if he wants to pump a few babies into me, he’s welcome to ’em!”
“That’s very much not the–” Rikad said, slowly backing away, grateful for the low fence between them.
“Or did he send me his strapping young man to do the job?” By now she was standing with a mostly toothless grin, leaning over her fence. Rikad backpedalled more quickly. “Fine, be like that, but tell him that Abby Greyn is here for him!”
“Will do, gran! Have a good day now.” They walked quickly down the road to put some distance between them and the amorous oldster.
“I see, I may have misjudged the effect of helping people,” Taritha said, stifling a giggle.
Rikad chuckled, adjusting the chin strap on his helm. “I told you! He won more than just their trust!”
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2024.05.27 22:23 Correct_Albatross_52 r/second half of the story
Under the city, the Know It All is commanding his computerized slave, Brain Drain, to build him a few new mechanical servants to help him to kidnap the mayor.
"Master, I have something to show you. I've built myself a servant to do my bidding. Would you like to use him?" Brain Drain asks.
One of his drones brings in a dead Mike Luis, the seventeen-year-old, Asian teen with his rock-hard abs, and Highland Hills football team letterman jacket. The boy, with his buzz cut, looks like your average American teen from the 50s.
"Why did you bring me a dead body?" The Know It All asks.
"I am Brain Drain. He is not dead. My nano bugs have put him to sleep, so he feels as little pain as possible when we begin our work on him," Brain Drain says.
"What work do you imagine we'll be doing on this young man?" The Know It All asks his computer.
Brain Drain laughs, before removing part of Mike's brain with a laser attached to his computer console. As schematics for a machine-man hybrid appear on his console, Brain Drain straps Mike to an operating table, and begins his work.
As he watches his servant build himself a slave of his own, The Know It All is impressed.
After twenty-seven hours of surgery, The Know It All and Brain Drain have built a new monster with which to attack the city under the cover of darkness.
Their machine-man, a cyborg with spider legs, and the head and body of a human, with crab cracker arms, and one laser eye, is sent out to terrorize the city.
The cyborg, with its entirely metal, lower body, and metal arms, looks around, and demands to know why he can't feel his legs.
"Mike Luis… Is that your name?" The Know It All asks.
"It is. And who might you be?" Mike asks.
"You can call me Master from this point on," he says.
The sad look on Brain Drain's face says it all; his master has just stolen his creation.
As The Know It All looks his way, Brain Drain smiles quickly, hiding his disappointment with his master.
The Know It All tells Mike that his father was working with a superhero when a shockwave hit, and everything went crazy. "We tried to rebuild you as best as we could, but… Well, these were the only parts we had on hand, and all we wanted to do was save you. God, I'm so sorry that this happened to you…" He says crying his crocodile tears, hoping to sway Mike into joining his side.
"I want to see myself," Mike says, unable to cry with the live wires, and electrodes sticking out of his face.
After looking at himself in the mirror, Mike smashes it, and demands to know where his father is.
"He's getting a medal from the mayor. If only there was a way to get to him, and stop him once and for all..." The Know It All says. "By the way, if you're going to be a villain, you'll need a new name. How about Robo Wrecker?"
Mike smiles after hearing his new name, and is about to leave the underground hideout when Brain Drain calls out to him, and asks if he'll need any help with his mission.
"Hell yeah!" Robo Wrecker replies as a swarm of drones fly over his head with guns, and robots attached to them.
***
That night, the Red Rider is meeting with Mayor Billingsley, and Doctor Richard Luis, who stopped the explosion from a superhero named Particle Man. Red Rider is also receiving an award as he and his team defeated a mutant villain named Big Dick Dinosaur: the huge, green T-rex with its colossal penis which shoots ejaculate on command.
Red hid behind a car while Big Dick Dino frosted his team like a cake with his incredible splooge cannon. He came up with a plan to stop the dinosaur, and vibrated until he was moving fast enough to slow down time, and, once time had slowed, Red began to send car after car at the Dino's cock, and underbelly.
After crushing the Dino's junk, and stomach, Red came out of hiding. As the news cameras arrived, he pointed to the crippled Dino, and flexed for the crowd.
The mayor goes on to say that the country of Marwick is lucky to have two such heroes as Doctor Richard Luis, and the Red Rider.
Speaking at a press conference before the award ceremony, the Mayor tells the press how grateful he is for all of the new heroes who have stepped up, and begun patrolling the city in the absence of the League of Heroes.
The rest of the No Siders stand off to the side of the stage, arms crossed, watching as their leader takes all the credit for saving the city.
Red sits in a folding chair along with Doctor Luis, and the two men chat for a bit before the mayor arrives, and begins speaking to the crowd.
Mayor Billingsley talks about the value of every superhero team which is protecting the city, and all the ones who will come after them.
"What about the villains?" Robo Wrecker asks, dropping down from the sky, his spider legs digging into the ground.
The men and women who are gathered around all run in terror as Red Rider orders his team to form ranks, and to follow him.
"We'd like to, but we're on crowd control, so I guess you'll have to take care of this yourself, boss," Power Fist says.
Robo Wrecker picks a woman up with his crab claws, and snaps her in half, her blood and guts spilling onto the ground.
As Red begins to vibrate, he tosses a bolt of lightning at the cyborg.
The machine-man is struck by the lightning, and he begins to malfunction.
As drones come dropping down to the ground, they begin firing at the people in the crowd.
As they disperse, Power Fist uses the gems on her gauntlets to create energy shields around part of the city so the people can escape.
Metal Mouth is able to hack into the drone's motherboards, and shut most of them down, while Alonzo, and Old Man Gus, hide behind a group of children.
Makko bites the top off of a fire hydrant, and begins spraying water all over the remaining drones.
The battle drones all fall to pieces, and as they round up the remaining drones, Red Rider loses sight of Robo Wrecker, and of the mayor.
***
As he limps his way back to the underground with the mayor in his grasp, Robo Wrecker returns to his master, and hands him his new toy.
"Welcome, Mayor Billingsley/ I just wanted to say hello, and tell you that things are about to get really bad for you in a few minutes," The Know It All says, holding a drill.
The mayor screams in pain as his skull is pierced by the red-hot drill, and something is inserted into his skull.
The Know It All scrambles the mayor's brain, and replaces it with a mechanical brain which lights up, and glows bright pink.
***
After checking up on everyone who was taken, Red Rider, and his people, return to their hideout, and look for anything which they could use to track Robo Wrecker.
Using chips, and motherboards, from the fallen droids to track its GPS, Metal Mouth, and Alonzo, are able to track the droids to a power plant two towns over.
The group heads to the Justice Van, and piles in. The men are amazed by all the changes which Alliver was able to make to it. The Justice Van- which can now fly, and go underwater- is just incredible. It takes just fourteen minutes to reach the Luka Falls Power Plant, and, once they arrive, the No Siders see hundreds of drones guarding the facility.
Red begins vibrating at a high enough speed to stop the world, and he is able to walk in a fifth dimension, one where no one is able to move, or see him at all. Red is only able to maintain this state for twenty minutes before he begins to fade away, and get lost in the fifth dimension.
Red Rider, in his red, leather jacket, and matching pants with a black lightning bolt on the sides, and front of his jacket, runs through the storm until he reaches the power plant.
Alliver sits on Power Fist's lap, and he wonders where her uncle is.
"He's racing the speed storm. You can't see him, but he's there." Power Fist says.
Makko drinks some vodka with salt in it, and Metal Mouth looks on with a face which is frozen from rust.
Alonzo and Gus sit in the front seat of the Van, and play cards. The two of them trade cigarettes for beer as they play.
Red Rider enters the power plant, and with just eight minutes left before he fades away, finds the mayor tied up in the center of the plant. Red grabs him, and before he knows what's hit him, the mayor, and the Red Rider, are outside of the power plant, running for their lives.
Firing a flare in the air to alert his team, Red- who is weak, and bleeding from his ears, and mouth, after racing the speed storm- can barely run.
The Justice Van parks as the droids and drones begin to attack.
The mayor helps Red into the van, and the group flies away with over one hundred drones in pursuit.
Alliver tells his friends that he’s outfitted the Justice Van with many new toys, and weapons for their use.
Pressing a button on the side of the steering wheel, Alonzo sees that it's an EMP mine.
Firing the mine at one of the drones sends a shock wave all throughout the town of Luka Falls. Metal Mouth is also affected by the EMP, and is disabled for the rest of the trip home.
On the way home, Alliver and Alonzo try to repair Metal Mouth while Old Man Gus drives the van. Old Man Gus, however, is blind in one eye, and doesn’t see the building which he's about to crash into.
Power Fist, seeing that they are about to crash, uses her gem to create an energy shield around the Justice Van.
Alliver is impressed by Power Fist's magic, and he tries to hack into her gauntlet, wanting use it to create a shield around Metal Mouth, and the van, when they are in need.
As the Van crashes through a building, Mayor Billingsley demands to be let go, but Power Fist reminds him that he was just kidnapped, and needs to stay with them until they reach his office.
After crashing into the apartment building, the Justice Van refuses to start up. Alonzo tells Alliver to keep working on Metal Mouth while he tries to fix the van.
Alliver tells him that it might be smarter if he tries to fix the van as Alonzo isn't familiar with the changes which he's made.
"I'VE BEEN FIXING THIS VAN SINCE BEFORE YOUR LITTLE GREEN ASS SHOWED UP, AND I CAN FIX IT NOW!" Alonzo retorts, slamming the door, and popping open the hood of the van.
The inside of the van glows a bright, green hue, and the entire thing seems to be covered in some kind of metal-plastic.
Opening the door. Alonzo tells Alliver to fix the van while he works on Metal Mouth.
The little green man smiles, and hops out of the van.
Power Fist, in her most deadpan voice, asks Alonzo if he's fixed the van already.
"That's very funny, Wednesday Addams,” Alonzo says.
With the van fixed, the No Siders take off, leaving behind a fake card which the homeowners can call for reimbursement.
Driving out of the apartment, and back into the sky, Power Fist, who is now driving, takes the No Siders back to the mayor's office, where they hand the mayor off to his security team. He is rushed away.
After dropping off the mayor, Power Fist drives back to the junkyard, and she injects her uncle with a syringe filled with a red and black tornado.
Red begins to heal, and he fills the syringe with more of his blood, before putting it back where it was, and thanking his niece.
***
Power Fist is getting drunk with Makko, and Alonzo, when Red arrives. He asks to speak to his niece for a minute in private.
"Sure. What's up, Dunkcle?" She asks.
"I just wanted to thank you for saving me. I was at the point of death just then, but you brought me back. I just wanted to say thank you, booger head," Red says.
"You’re welcome, pig sticker. I just want you to know that I never would have let you die… unless I could be the one to kill you, that is," Power Fist laughs.
Red Rider and his niece share a few laughs as they walk around the junkyard. The two are enjoying themselves when the police show up, looking for Red Rider.
Officer Jones, and his new partner, Jesse Quick, arrest Red Rider, and tell him that the mayor has revoked his vigilante license, and is planning to disband all of the superhero teams in the city unless they join the police force.
Red is arrested for acting as a vigilante without a license, but, before he can drive off with her uncle, Power Fist asks him a question. "At what time did the mayor sign this order to suspend my uncle's vigilante license?"
"Two hours after he returned to his home. Why do you ask?" Officer Jones asks.
"Well, then you have no case against him. You see, my uncle wasn’t acting as a vigilante in the past two hours, so you have no grounds to arrest him, Officer Jones," Power Fist says.
Releasing Red Rider, Officer Jones laughs, and tells him that he doesn’t want to see him on the streets trying to save people anymore, or he'll be arrested.
Officer Quick looks around the junkyard, and she notices Makko. She stares for almost two minutes before Power Fist loudly asks her what she's looking at. "I just noticed you people seem to be living here in this junk yard, and I was wondering if that might be against the law?" Officer Quick asks, pointing at a pair of bunk beds where Makko and Metal Mouth are sitting together.
Officer Jones takes out his ticket book, and writes Red a bunch of tickets for his many violations. He also gives Red a court date to stand before a judge, telling him that, because of his former service as a hero, he'll be allowed to stand before the judge in his costume, and will most likely receive community service, and not be allowed back in the junkyard ever again.
***
Over the next two weeks, Red Rider begins working at a coffee shop called Speed Demon Deluxe Brew. All of the workers are speedsters, and each of them are able to take orders, and deliver coffee, at super speed. Red's uniform is a brownish-gray hat, and apron, as well as light brown slacks, and a white shirt with the logo of the company on it.
While he's working, the rest of the No Siders are spending their time looking for somewhere to live. Power Fist and Makko find a burned-out crack house on the wrong side of town- a part of the city called Crimeville.
The heroes of Crimeville are very overprotective of their part of the city. Superhero teams like Gang Bang and the South Side Sleuths fight each other for control over the crime-infested streets of Crimeville.
As they are walking the streets, Power Fist and Makko see a little girl being mugged by a group of older children. One of the boys is yelling at the girl in Spanish, and another, with a thick, French accent, laughs as the little girl is pushed to the ground.
Power Fist and Makko intervene, and send the boys running.
As they take off down the street, the little girl thanks Power Fist and Makko. The two then ask the girl why those boys were bothering her, and she tells them that her older brother beat up the biggest boy’s older brother, and cousin.
The girl looks up, and runs away in terror.
Looking behind herself, Power Fist sees a hovering superhero team called the Chicken Crew. The members of the Chicken Crew wear giant chicken costumes with masks, and capes.
The leader of the Chicken Crew demands to know who the hell the two new heroes in his part of the city are.
"We're not looking for trouble. We just wanted to help a little girl, that's all," Power Fist says.
Makko asks why Chicken Lord and his friends are dressed up like chickens.
"YOU DISRESPECTFUL, FISH-STINKING FUCK! YOU SPEAK ILL OF OUR COSTUMES, AND YOU SPEAK ILL OF THE CHICKEN GOD, ROY RODGERS!” Chicken Lord yells.
Power Fist tries to calm everyone down, but the Chicken Crew launches into their attack.
As they fire their eggs at Makko and Power Fist, Toilet King charges into the fight, and attacks a brown and white chicken man called King Chicken.
Power Fist throws her gauntlets at the Chicken Crew, and breaks Chica-Chica-Boom-Boom's leg, and Turkey Neck’s back.
The last man standing is Chicken Lord, and Makko swallows him whole, spitting out his costume, and cape.
Toilet King asks Power Fist what brings her to his neighborhood in the middle of the night.
"It's 4:30 PM. For some reason, the sun just doesn’t shine on this neighborhood. I don't know why," Power Fist says.
"I think a racist wizard must have done it, or something like that," Toilet King says.
Deciding to help his friends to find a place to live in Crimeville, Toilet King takes them to Wuthering Heights: a small, Latino neighborhood in the middle of Crimeville.
Wuthering Heights is a nice-enough place to stay in the morning, even though there is no sunlight in Crimeville.
Toilet King takes his friends to an abandoned lot called the greenhouse. He tells Power-Fist that if she and her friends are willing to put in the work. they can build a nice place on that lot. "It's only $5,000, and it's huge. The guy who bought it wanted to flip the land, and a group of his neighbors murdered him the night they found out what he planned to do. After that, the city took over the land, and, well, they just want to get rid of it for cheap," Toilet King says.
Power Fist and Makko head to the bank to find out how much they have to buy the abandoned lot.
With -$8 in their team bank account, the No Siders are forced to continue meeting at the junkyard.
The group is forced to wait until dark before they enter the junkyard, but without Red Rider as he is forced to wear an ankle monitor for his community service.
While meeting up at night, Power Fist reports that they are broke, and that they can't afford to move out of the junkyard. Alliver asks them why they don't just sell something of value, like water, or air molecules.
Alonzo explains to his little friend that, on Earth, gold, silver, and jewels are considered valuable.
Alliver is pleased to hear this as he has a machine which can turn air into gold and diamonds. "I believe I still have it with me. This machine is very useful as gold and diamonds are used to power my peoples’ ships, and lasers.”
Alliver creates a giant gold nugget, and hands it to Power Fist, who takes it to a jewelry store, and sells it for a fortune, taking the $500,000, and using $5,000 to buy the land, and the rest to fix up the junkyard so that they can live there.
***
While everyone is adjusting to their new lives, The Know It All is putting his plans into action, taking control of the mayor's robotic mind. He orders the mayor to begin disbanding every superhero team in the city.
Each team in the city is served with termination papers. The only team which is allowed to continue operating is the League of Heroes because of their injuries, and out of respect for their service.
Tiger Man, and Lucky Lady, are both almost completely healed, Mr. Invincible, and Castle Man, are still in critical condition, and Speed Demon was killed fighting the Golden Goons.
The mayor does as his master commands, and begins disbanding every superhero team in the city.
Arriving with the mayor's latte, and pumpkin bagel, Red Rider, whose face is concealed by a mask, hands the bagel to the mayor, who yells at him for not bringing him any cream cheese.
Enraged that this man is yelling at him after getting him fired from his team, Red dumps the man's latte over his head. Sparks begin to fly, and the mayor falls to the ground, dead.
As the mayor’s security team knocks on the door, Red grabs the mayor, and jumps out of the window behind the mayor's desk.
Hearing the sound of crashing glass, the mayor's security team comes running, but doesn’t find the mayor, or whoever took him.
***
Back in his apartment, Red has just called his niece to help him out, and to come to get the mayor. He waits ten minutes for her to arrive.
"What the hell did you do, Uncle Tomás?" Power Fist asks.
"MARCY, YOU HAVE TO BELIEVE ME! ALL I DID WAS DUMP A CUP OF COFFEE OVER HIS HEAD!” Red says.
Power Fist decides to take the mayor, and head to the team's new headquarters in Wuthering Heights.
Driving the Justice Van with Alonzo and Alliver, Power Fist discovers that Alliver and Alonzo have built a huge warehouse filled with alien teach, and sleeping pods, as well as cloaking technology.
In the morning, the police arrest Red Rider for attacking, and abducting, the mayor.
With all of the superhero teams disbanded, the police are forced to hire freelance, superpowered deputies to help them to arrest the Red Rider.
Not putting up a fight, Red lets himself be arrested, and to be taken to a superpowered prison called The Dampener.
While inside The Dampener, Red Rider joins up with a gang of mutants, and superheroes, called the Puritans. Their leader is Diamond Mine: a mutant whose skin is as hard as a pink diamond.
Red's Roommate is Chewy: a big Mexican with the power to eat anything, and spit out a fireball. Chewy introduced Red to Diamond Mine, and the two of them became fast friends.
***
Meanwhile, back in the junkyard, Alliver is cracking open Mayor Billingsley's skull. He trips a secret alarm in the mayor's head, sees a glowing light, and removes a bomb, handing it to Alonzo.
Before he can throw the bomb, it goes off in his hand, blowing both of his arms off, and a part of his jaw.
Alliver hears the explosion, and rushes to find Alonzo. He does a deep tissue scan once he finds Alonzo's body, and, after that, he decides to merge with Alonzo, something which his people can only do once in their lives as they will die as a result of the merge.
Alliver and Alonzo become fused together in a cocoon made of green slime, and hard green crystal.
***
On the streets of Bainbridge, Power Fist and Metal Mouth are patrolling the streets while Makko swims through the sewers, munching on rats, and alligators.
As he is making his way out of the sewers, a giant group of five man-sharks jump out of the water, and attack Makko.
"Hello, little brother. Did you miss us?" One of the sharks asks.
The big, blue, tiger shark picks his smaller brother up by his neck, and tosses him around.
The big blue shark pounds Makko's face into a burger with cheese, and curly fries, and, after the beating, the sharks leave Makko in a pool of his own blood.
Power Fist and Metal Mouth radio Makko to get his position, but the shark boy is unresponsive. Power Fist sends Metal Mouth back to headquarters while she goes to check on Makko.
Using the glow of her gauntlet gems to light the way, after searching a mile of underground sewer, Power Fist finds Makko's limp body. The shark lord is still breathing, and one of his twin hearts is still beating. Unlike most sharks, Makko, and other man sharks, have two to three hearts, and four lungs: two for breathing air, and two for breathing water.
Power Fist sees her friend beaten, and bloody, and she lifts him off of the ground, and carries him to the hospital.
The doctor on call is a witchdoctor named Doctor Zhivago. The man stands 6'5”, his face painted a bone white in the shape of a skull.
The big man drinks a potion, and spits it all over Makko, who begins to hyperventilate. The witchdoctor then removes a tube of salt water from his sleeve, and, after forcing Makko to transform into his shark form, pours the salt water into his gills.
The shark man begins crying blood.
Makko opens his eyes, and sees Power Fist standing over him. He strokes her face lovingly, until she catches his hand and pushes it away.
Power Fist leaves the hospital, and returns to the junkyard, where she finds the cocoon, putting up a shield around the junkyard.
***
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"Master, I have something to show you. I've built myself a servant to do my bidding. Would you like to use him?" Brain Drain asks.
One of his drones brings in a dead Mike Luis, the seventeen-year-old, Asian teen with his rock-hard abs, and Highland Hills football team letterman jacket. The boy, with his buzz cut, looks like your average American teen from the 50s.
"Why did you bring me a dead body?" The Know It All asks.
"I am Brain Drain. He is not dead. My nano bugs have put him to sleep, so he feels as little pain as possible when we begin our work on him," Brain Drain says.
"What work do you imagine we'll be doing on this young man?" The Know It All asks his computer.
Brain Drain laughs, before removing part of Mike's brain with a laser attached to his computer console. As schematics for a machine-man hybrid appear on his console, Brain Drain straps Mike to an operating table, and begins his work.
As he watches his servant build himself a slave of his own, The Know It All is impressed.
After twenty-seven hours of surgery, The Know It All and Brain Drain have built a new monster with which to attack the city under the cover of darkness.
Their machine-man, a cyborg with spider legs, and the head and body of a human, with crab cracker arms, and one laser eye, is sent out to terrorize the city.
The cyborg, with its entirely metal, lower body, and metal arms, looks around, and demands to know why he can't feel his legs.
"Mike Luis… Is that your name?" The Know It All asks.
"It is. And who might you be?" Mike asks.
"You can call me Master from this point on," he says.
The sad look on Brain Drain's face says it all; his master has just stolen his creation.
As The Know It All looks his way, Brain Drain smiles quickly, hiding his disappointment with his master.
The Know It All tells Mike that his father was working with a superhero when a shockwave hit, and everything went crazy. "We tried to rebuild you as best as we could, but… Well, these were the only parts we had on hand, and all we wanted to do was save you. God, I'm so sorry that this happened to you…" He says crying his crocodile tears, hoping to sway Mike into joining his side.
"I want to see myself," Mike says, unable to cry with the live wires, and electrodes sticking out of his face.
After looking at himself in the mirror, Mike smashes it, and demands to know where his father is.
"He's getting a medal from the mayor. If only there was a way to get to him, and stop him once and for all..." The Know It All says. "By the way, if you're going to be a villain, you'll need a new name. How about Robo Wrecker?"
Mike smiles after hearing his new name, and is about to leave the underground hideout when Brain Drain calls out to him, and asks if he'll need any help with his mission.
"Hell yeah!" Robo Wrecker replies as a swarm of drones fly over his head with guns, and robots attached to them.
***
That night, the Red Rider is meeting with Mayor Billingsley, and Doctor Richard Luis, who stopped the explosion from a superhero named Particle Man. Red Rider is also receiving an award as he and his team defeated a mutant villain named Big Dick Dinosaur: the huge, green T-rex with its colossal penis which shoots ejaculate on command.
Red hid behind a car while Big Dick Dino frosted his team like a cake with his incredible splooge cannon. He came up with a plan to stop the dinosaur, and vibrated until he was moving fast enough to slow down time, and, once time had slowed, Red began to send car after car at the Dino's cock, and underbelly.
After crushing the Dino's junk, and stomach, Red came out of hiding. As the news cameras arrived, he pointed to the crippled Dino, and flexed for the crowd.
The mayor goes on to say that the country of Marwick is lucky to have two such heroes as Doctor Richard Luis, and the Red Rider.
Speaking at a press conference before the award ceremony, the Mayor tells the press how grateful he is for all of the new heroes who have stepped up, and begun patrolling the city in the absence of the League of Heroes.
The rest of the No Siders stand off to the side of the stage, arms crossed, watching as their leader takes all the credit for saving the city.
Red sits in a folding chair along with Doctor Luis, and the two men chat for a bit before the mayor arrives, and begins speaking to the crowd.
Mayor Billingsley talks about the value of every superhero team which is protecting the city, and all the ones who will come after them.
"What about the villains?" Robo Wrecker asks, dropping down from the sky, his spider legs digging into the ground.
The men and women who are gathered around all run in terror as Red Rider orders his team to form ranks, and to follow him.
"We'd like to, but we're on crowd control, so I guess you'll have to take care of this yourself, boss," Power Fist says.
Robo Wrecker picks a woman up with his crab claws, and snaps her in half, her blood and guts spilling onto the ground.
As Red begins to vibrate, he tosses a bolt of lightning at the cyborg.
The machine-man is struck by the lightning, and he begins to malfunction.
As drones come dropping down to the ground, they begin firing at the people in the crowd.
As they disperse, Power Fist uses the gems on her gauntlets to create energy shields around part of the city so the people can escape.
Metal Mouth is able to hack into the drone's motherboards, and shut most of them down, while Alonzo, and Old Man Gus, hide behind a group of children.
Makko bites the top off of a fire hydrant, and begins spraying water all over the remaining drones.
The battle drones all fall to pieces, and as they round up the remaining drones, Red Rider loses sight of Robo Wrecker, and of the mayor.
***
As he limps his way back to the underground with the mayor in his grasp, Robo Wrecker returns to his master, and hands him his new toy.
"Welcome, Mayor Billingsley/ I just wanted to say hello, and tell you that things are about to get really bad for you in a few minutes," The Know It All says, holding a drill.
The mayor screams in pain as his skull is pierced by the red-hot drill, and something is inserted into his skull.
The Know It All scrambles the mayor's brain, and replaces it with a mechanical brain which lights up, and glows bright pink.
***
After checking up on everyone who was taken, Red Rider, and his people, return to their hideout, and look for anything which they could use to track Robo Wrecker.
Using chips, and motherboards, from the fallen droids to track its GPS, Metal Mouth, and Alonzo, are able to track the droids to a power plant two towns over.
The group heads to the Justice Van, and piles in. The men are amazed by all the changes which Alliver was able to make to it. The Justice Van- which can now fly, and go underwater- is just incredible. It takes just fourteen minutes to reach the Luka Falls Power Plant, and, once they arrive, the No Siders see hundreds of drones guarding the facility.
Red begins vibrating at a high enough speed to stop the world, and he is able to walk in a fifth dimension, one where no one is able to move, or see him at all. Red is only able to maintain this state for twenty minutes before he begins to fade away, and get lost in the fifth dimension.
Red Rider, in his red, leather jacket, and matching pants with a black lightning bolt on the sides, and front of his jacket, runs through the storm until he reaches the power plant.
Alliver sits on Power Fist's lap, and he wonders where her uncle is.
"He's racing the speed storm. You can't see him, but he's there." Power Fist says.
Makko drinks some vodka with salt in it, and Metal Mouth looks on with a face which is frozen from rust.
Alonzo and Gus sit in the front seat of the Van, and play cards. The two of them trade cigarettes for beer as they play.
Red Rider enters the power plant, and with just eight minutes left before he fades away, finds the mayor tied up in the center of the plant. Red grabs him, and before he knows what's hit him, the mayor, and the Red Rider, are outside of the power plant, running for their lives.
Firing a flare in the air to alert his team, Red- who is weak, and bleeding from his ears, and mouth, after racing the speed storm- can barely run.
The Justice Van parks as the droids and drones begin to attack.
The mayor helps Red into the van, and the group flies away with over one hundred drones in pursuit.
Alliver tells his friends that he’s outfitted the Justice Van with many new toys, and weapons for their use.
Pressing a button on the side of the steering wheel, Alonzo sees that it's an EMP mine.
Firing the mine at one of the drones sends a shock wave all throughout the town of Luka Falls. Metal Mouth is also affected by the EMP, and is disabled for the rest of the trip home.
On the way home, Alliver and Alonzo try to repair Metal Mouth while Old Man Gus drives the van. Old Man Gus, however, is blind in one eye, and doesn’t see the building which he's about to crash into.
Power Fist, seeing that they are about to crash, uses her gem to create an energy shield around the Justice Van.
Alliver is impressed by Power Fist's magic, and he tries to hack into her gauntlet, wanting use it to create a shield around Metal Mouth, and the van, when they are in need.
As the Van crashes through a building, Mayor Billingsley demands to be let go, but Power Fist reminds him that he was just kidnapped, and needs to stay with them until they reach his office.
After crashing into the apartment building, the Justice Van refuses to start up. Alonzo tells Alliver to keep working on Metal Mouth while he tries to fix the van.
Alliver tells him that it might be smarter if he tries to fix the van as Alonzo isn't familiar with the changes which he's made.
"I'VE BEEN FIXING THIS VAN SINCE BEFORE YOUR LITTLE GREEN ASS SHOWED UP, AND I CAN FIX IT NOW!" Alonzo retorts, slamming the door, and popping open the hood of the van.
The inside of the van glows a bright, green hue, and the entire thing seems to be covered in some kind of metal-plastic.
Opening the door. Alonzo tells Alliver to fix the van while he works on Metal Mouth.
The little green man smiles, and hops out of the van.
Power Fist, in her most deadpan voice, asks Alonzo if he's fixed the van already.
"That's very funny, Wednesday Addams,” Alonzo says.
With the van fixed, the No Siders take off, leaving behind a fake card which the homeowners can call for reimbursement.
Driving out of the apartment, and back into the sky, Power Fist, who is now driving, takes the No Siders back to the mayor's office, where they hand the mayor off to his security team. He is rushed away.
After dropping off the mayor, Power Fist drives back to the junkyard, and she injects her uncle with a syringe filled with a red and black tornado.
Red begins to heal, and he fills the syringe with more of his blood, before putting it back where it was, and thanking his niece.
***
Power Fist is getting drunk with Makko, and Alonzo, when Red arrives. He asks to speak to his niece for a minute in private.
"Sure. What's up, Dunkcle?" She asks.
"I just wanted to thank you for saving me. I was at the point of death just then, but you brought me back. I just wanted to say thank you, booger head," Red says.
"You’re welcome, pig sticker. I just want you to know that I never would have let you die… unless I could be the one to kill you, that is," Power Fist laughs.
Red Rider and his niece share a few laughs as they walk around the junkyard. The two are enjoying themselves when the police show up, looking for Red Rider.
Officer Jones, and his new partner, Jesse Quick, arrest Red Rider, and tell him that the mayor has revoked his vigilante license, and is planning to disband all of the superhero teams in the city unless they join the police force.
Red is arrested for acting as a vigilante without a license, but, before he can drive off with her uncle, Power Fist asks him a question. "At what time did the mayor sign this order to suspend my uncle's vigilante license?"
"Two hours after he returned to his home. Why do you ask?" Officer Jones asks.
"Well, then you have no case against him. You see, my uncle wasn’t acting as a vigilante in the past two hours, so you have no grounds to arrest him, Officer Jones," Power Fist says.
Releasing Red Rider, Officer Jones laughs, and tells him that he doesn’t want to see him on the streets trying to save people anymore, or he'll be arrested.
Officer Quick looks around the junkyard, and she notices Makko. She stares for almost two minutes before Power Fist loudly asks her what she's looking at. "I just noticed you people seem to be living here in this junk yard, and I was wondering if that might be against the law?" Officer Quick asks, pointing at a pair of bunk beds where Makko and Metal Mouth are sitting together.
Officer Jones takes out his ticket book, and writes Red a bunch of tickets for his many violations. He also gives Red a court date to stand before a judge, telling him that, because of his former service as a hero, he'll be allowed to stand before the judge in his costume, and will most likely receive community service, and not be allowed back in the junkyard ever again.
***
Over the next two weeks, Red Rider begins working at a coffee shop called Speed Demon Deluxe Brew. All of the workers are speedsters, and each of them are able to take orders, and deliver coffee, at super speed. Red's uniform is a brownish-gray hat, and apron, as well as light brown slacks, and a white shirt with the logo of the company on it.
While he's working, the rest of the No Siders are spending their time looking for somewhere to live. Power Fist and Makko find a burned-out crack house on the wrong side of town- a part of the city called Crimeville.
The heroes of Crimeville are very overprotective of their part of the city. Superhero teams like Gang Bang and the South Side Sleuths fight each other for control over the crime-infested streets of Crimeville.
As they are walking the streets, Power Fist and Makko see a little girl being mugged by a group of older children. One of the boys is yelling at the girl in Spanish, and another, with a thick, French accent, laughs as the little girl is pushed to the ground.
Power Fist and Makko intervene, and send the boys running.
As they take off down the street, the little girl thanks Power Fist and Makko. The two then ask the girl why those boys were bothering her, and she tells them that her older brother beat up the biggest boy’s older brother, and cousin.
The girl looks up, and runs away in terror.
Looking behind herself, Power Fist sees a hovering superhero team called the Chicken Crew. The members of the Chicken Crew wear giant chicken costumes with masks, and capes.
The leader of the Chicken Crew demands to know who the hell the two new heroes in his part of the city are.
"We're not looking for trouble. We just wanted to help a little girl, that's all," Power Fist says.
Makko asks why Chicken Lord and his friends are dressed up like chickens.
"YOU DISRESPECTFUL, FISH-STINKING FUCK! YOU SPEAK ILL OF OUR COSTUMES, AND YOU SPEAK ILL OF THE CHICKEN GOD, ROY RODGERS!” Chicken Lord yells.
Power Fist tries to calm everyone down, but the Chicken Crew launches into their attack.
As they fire their eggs at Makko and Power Fist, Toilet King charges into the fight, and attacks a brown and white chicken man called King Chicken.
Power Fist throws her gauntlets at the Chicken Crew, and breaks Chica-Chica-Boom-Boom's leg, and Turkey Neck’s back.
The last man standing is Chicken Lord, and Makko swallows him whole, spitting out his costume, and cape.
Toilet King asks Power Fist what brings her to his neighborhood in the middle of the night.
"It's 4:30 PM. For some reason, the sun just doesn’t shine on this neighborhood. I don't know why," Power Fist says.
"I think a racist wizard must have done it, or something like that," Toilet King says.
Deciding to help his friends to find a place to live in Crimeville, Toilet King takes them to Wuthering Heights: a small, Latino neighborhood in the middle of Crimeville.
Wuthering Heights is a nice-enough place to stay in the morning, even though there is no sunlight in Crimeville.
Toilet King takes his friends to an abandoned lot called the greenhouse. He tells Power-Fist that if she and her friends are willing to put in the work. they can build a nice place on that lot. "It's only $5,000, and it's huge. The guy who bought it wanted to flip the land, and a group of his neighbors murdered him the night they found out what he planned to do. After that, the city took over the land, and, well, they just want to get rid of it for cheap," Toilet King says.
Power Fist and Makko head to the bank to find out how much they have to buy the abandoned lot.
With -$8 in their team bank account, the No Siders are forced to continue meeting at the junkyard.
The group is forced to wait until dark before they enter the junkyard, but without Red Rider as he is forced to wear an ankle monitor for his community service.
While meeting up at night, Power Fist reports that they are broke, and that they can't afford to move out of the junkyard. Alliver asks them why they don't just sell something of value, like water, or air molecules.
Alonzo explains to his little friend that, on Earth, gold, silver, and jewels are considered valuable.
Alliver is pleased to hear this as he has a machine which can turn air into gold and diamonds. "I believe I still have it with me. This machine is very useful as gold and diamonds are used to power my peoples’ ships, and lasers.”
Alliver creates a giant gold nugget, and hands it to Power Fist, who takes it to a jewelry store, and sells it for a fortune, taking the $500,000, and using $5,000 to buy the land, and the rest to fix up the junkyard so that they can live there.
***
While everyone is adjusting to their new lives, The Know It All is putting his plans into action, taking control of the mayor's robotic mind. He orders the mayor to begin disbanding every superhero team in the city.
Each team in the city is served with termination papers. The only team which is allowed to continue operating is the League of Heroes because of their injuries, and out of respect for their service.
Tiger Man, and Lucky Lady, are both almost completely healed, Mr. Invincible, and Castle Man, are still in critical condition, and Speed Demon was killed fighting the Golden Goons.
The mayor does as his master commands, and begins disbanding every superhero team in the city.
Arriving with the mayor's latte, and pumpkin bagel, Red Rider, whose face is concealed by a mask, hands the bagel to the mayor, who yells at him for not bringing him any cream cheese.
Enraged that this man is yelling at him after getting him fired from his team, Red dumps the man's latte over his head. Sparks begin to fly, and the mayor falls to the ground, dead.
As the mayor’s security team knocks on the door, Red grabs the mayor, and jumps out of the window behind the mayor's desk.
Hearing the sound of crashing glass, the mayor's security team comes running, but doesn’t find the mayor, or whoever took him.
***
Back in his apartment, Red has just called his niece to help him out, and to come to get the mayor. He waits ten minutes for her to arrive.
"What the hell did you do, Uncle Tomás?" Power Fist asks.
"MARCY, YOU HAVE TO BELIEVE ME! ALL I DID WAS DUMP A CUP OF COFFEE OVER HIS HEAD!” Red says.
Power Fist decides to take the mayor, and head to the team's new headquarters in Wuthering Heights.
Driving the Justice Van with Alonzo and Alliver, Power Fist discovers that Alliver and Alonzo have built a huge warehouse filled with alien teach, and sleeping pods, as well as cloaking technology.
In the morning, the police arrest Red Rider for attacking, and abducting, the mayor.
With all of the superhero teams disbanded, the police are forced to hire freelance, superpowered deputies to help them to arrest the Red Rider.
Not putting up a fight, Red lets himself be arrested, and to be taken to a superpowered prison called The Dampener.
While inside The Dampener, Red Rider joins up with a gang of mutants, and superheroes, called the Puritans. Their leader is Diamond Mine: a mutant whose skin is as hard as a pink diamond.
Red's Roommate is Chewy: a big Mexican with the power to eat anything, and spit out a fireball. Chewy introduced Red to Diamond Mine, and the two of them became fast friends.
***
Meanwhile, back in the junkyard, Alliver is cracking open Mayor Billingsley's skull. He trips a secret alarm in the mayor's head, sees a glowing light, and removes a bomb, handing it to Alonzo.
Before he can throw the bomb, it goes off in his hand, blowing both of his arms off, and a part of his jaw.
Alliver hears the explosion, and rushes to find Alonzo. He does a deep tissue scan once he finds Alonzo's body, and, after that, he decides to merge with Alonzo, something which his people can only do once in their lives as they will die as a result of the merge.
Alliver and Alonzo become fused together in a cocoon made of green slime, and hard green crystal.
***
On the streets of Bainbridge, Power Fist and Metal Mouth are patrolling the streets while Makko swims through the sewers, munching on rats, and alligators.
As he is making his way out of the sewers, a giant group of five man-sharks jump out of the water, and attack Makko.
"Hello, little brother. Did you miss us?" One of the sharks asks.
The big, blue, tiger shark picks his smaller brother up by his neck, and tosses him around.
The big blue shark pounds Makko's face into a burger with cheese, and curly fries, and, after the beating, the sharks leave Makko in a pool of his own blood.
Power Fist and Metal Mouth radio Makko to get his position, but the shark boy is unresponsive. Power Fist sends Metal Mouth back to headquarters while she goes to check on Makko.
Using the glow of her gauntlet gems to light the way, after searching a mile of underground sewer, Power Fist finds Makko's limp body. The shark lord is still breathing, and one of his twin hearts is still beating. Unlike most sharks, Makko, and other man sharks, have two to three hearts, and four lungs: two for breathing air, and two for breathing water.
Power Fist sees her friend beaten, and bloody, and she lifts him off of the ground, and carries him to the hospital.
The doctor on call is a witchdoctor named Doctor Zhivago. The man stands 6'5”, his face painted a bone white in the shape of a skull.
The big man drinks a potion, and spits it all over Makko, who begins to hyperventilate. The witchdoctor then removes a tube of salt water from his sleeve, and, after forcing Makko to transform into his shark form, pours the salt water into his gills.
The shark man begins crying blood.
Makko opens his eyes, and sees Power Fist standing over him. He strokes her face lovingly, until she catches his hand and pushes it away.
Power Fist leaves the hospital, and returns to the junkyard, where she finds the cocoon, putting up a shield around the junkyard.
***
2024.05.27 22:17 Canadian-Corgi What could this sputum culture mean? Chronic cough for 4 months
35/F, overweight with chronic cough for nearly 4 months
It'll be a few days (or ever) before my doc gets back to me so I thought I might ask here.
Sputum Culture came back: 2+ White Blood Cells
1+ Red blood cells
2+ Epithelial cells
3+ Mixed oropharyngeal flora
In the last 4 monthd I've been to the ER 3X, clinic doctors 4-5x, been on prednisone 3x, amoxicillin 3x, have tried advair, flovent, and Symbicort. I found the steroid inhalers either dont help or make it worse.
I take ventoline 4-6x a day, take otc cold medication 4-6x/day for the cough suppressant. Chest xrays 2x (both clear). They also tried pantoprazole 40mg
I sleep mostly upright on the couch and will have coughing fits. They are dry in the morning and will often result in dry heaves/vomiting - later in the day it comes productive. My muscles ache from these coughing fits, I have a hoarse voice/strained voice + laryngospasm which scares me because it makes it hard to inhale again. I've developed stress incontinence and usually have to wear a heavy pad or incontinence underwear. Most coughing fits I feel dizzy/light headed and get black spots in my eyes. Any form of exertion usually results in a coughing fit (walking at a mild brisk pace, stairs, walking the dog, carrying things…even moving my neck in different positions, burping/hiccuping can trigger a coughing fit)
Bloodwork was most normal except:
D-dimer 0.93 mg/L DDU
CRP 31.7 mg/L
Last Tuesday I was sent to another town for an emergency CT scan because of my d-dimer results but after 13 pokes (5 nurses, vein finder + ultrasound) they couldn't get an iv line in for the contrast dye and gave up so it wasn't done. A VQ scan was recommended instead and I was told to wait to talk to my primary. I saw a different clinic doctor last Thursday who ordered a CT from a different town. They are going to try and place the iv at the hospital locally first before I drive 2 hours.
Needless to say I'm very frustrated and tired :(. I just want to know what's going on. Any suggestions are definitely helpful, thank you in advance!
submitted by Canadian-Corgi to AskDocs [link] [comments]
It'll be a few days (or ever) before my doc gets back to me so I thought I might ask here.
Sputum Culture came back: 2+ White Blood Cells
1+ Red blood cells
2+ Epithelial cells
3+ Mixed oropharyngeal flora
In the last 4 monthd I've been to the ER 3X, clinic doctors 4-5x, been on prednisone 3x, amoxicillin 3x, have tried advair, flovent, and Symbicort. I found the steroid inhalers either dont help or make it worse.
I take ventoline 4-6x a day, take otc cold medication 4-6x/day for the cough suppressant. Chest xrays 2x (both clear). They also tried pantoprazole 40mg
I sleep mostly upright on the couch and will have coughing fits. They are dry in the morning and will often result in dry heaves/vomiting - later in the day it comes productive. My muscles ache from these coughing fits, I have a hoarse voice/strained voice + laryngospasm which scares me because it makes it hard to inhale again. I've developed stress incontinence and usually have to wear a heavy pad or incontinence underwear. Most coughing fits I feel dizzy/light headed and get black spots in my eyes. Any form of exertion usually results in a coughing fit (walking at a mild brisk pace, stairs, walking the dog, carrying things…even moving my neck in different positions, burping/hiccuping can trigger a coughing fit)
Bloodwork was most normal except:
D-dimer 0.93 mg/L DDU
CRP 31.7 mg/L
Last Tuesday I was sent to another town for an emergency CT scan because of my d-dimer results but after 13 pokes (5 nurses, vein finder + ultrasound) they couldn't get an iv line in for the contrast dye and gave up so it wasn't done. A VQ scan was recommended instead and I was told to wait to talk to my primary. I saw a different clinic doctor last Thursday who ordered a CT from a different town. They are going to try and place the iv at the hospital locally first before I drive 2 hours.
Needless to say I'm very frustrated and tired :(. I just want to know what's going on. Any suggestions are definitely helpful, thank you in advance!
2024.05.27 22:16 herbivohre My pain keeps getting worse and am thinking I might have an autoimmune disease..
Over the past few months I’ve developed: Tinnitus, ear pain, random headaches, lower back pain and quads/shin pain when I do very very light workouts (I can’t even swim without pain), tingling on top of hands at times, brain fog, chest pain near left armpit, dull aching arm pain and leg pain on “normal” days, and tenderness behind ears on head.
Does this all sound familiar to anyone with an autoimmune disease? I’m about to try and get Medicaid and go see if I can get blood tests and get meds to help me. But do autoimmune medications help? I feel very scared and lost. And so sad as my quality of life has gone downhill. I can barely afford paying my small medical bills now…
I miss so much the life I had before and can’t help but go to blame myself and my past life choices in my now every day painful life.
Also.. has anyone ever gotten out of their auto immune disease? I just feel so hopeless right now.
submitted by herbivohre to ChronicPain [link] [comments]
Does this all sound familiar to anyone with an autoimmune disease? I’m about to try and get Medicaid and go see if I can get blood tests and get meds to help me. But do autoimmune medications help? I feel very scared and lost. And so sad as my quality of life has gone downhill. I can barely afford paying my small medical bills now…
I miss so much the life I had before and can’t help but go to blame myself and my past life choices in my now every day painful life.
Also.. has anyone ever gotten out of their auto immune disease? I just feel so hopeless right now.
2024.05.27 22:15 medicalthrowaway5647 Unknown Chronic Illness
Recently, I (22M) have been suffering from an unknown chronic illness, lasting at least since September 2023, as far as I can tell. I still do not have a proper diagnosis. My symptoms seem to consist of eye redness and irritation, intermittent light sensitivity in eyes, skin irritation, skin infections seemingly capable of scarring, gum irritation, respiratory issues, weight loss of about ten pounds (~135 to ~125 pounds), increased sweating, confusion, fatigue, tenderness of skin, skin rashes, involuntary spasms (This includes persistent cases, such as one with the left eye, or eyelid, I'm not sure. This spasm in particular can be triggered by tightly closing my eyes.), joint stiffness, and very occasional aches of sharp pain. These symptoms mostly have a tendency to come and go. My condition seems to be an infection of some kind, and may be contagious, as I believe that members of my family are now showing symptoms as well. It seems that the condition may spread to different parts of the body via contact with hands, or through sweat. I have already seen two clinic physicians about this, one of whom previously prescribed Doxycycline Hyclate and Bacitracin ointment in an attempt to treat my condition, and it seemed to temporarily treat some of the symptoms, notably the skin infections. Note that, at this time, my only noteworthy symptom was a severe infection on my right leg. I was kept on Doxycycline for roughly 3-4 months. I was referred to a dermatologist by the latter physician. The dermatologist in question kept me on Doxycline for 3 months, and additionally claimed that the sharp pain was unrelated. I was initially referred to this dermatologist due to concerns of a possible cyst at the point of infection on my right leg. I was told by the dermatologist that there was no cyst. The dermatologist kept me on Doxycline for 3 months, after which, I visited a separate physician who claimed that my immune system was weak, and that I had unusual, potentially tumorous, cell growth that needed to be treated, and that I had blood issues. I asked this physician if the condition could be staph-related, and was told that it was not. After 1-2 months on this physician's supplement plan, I was told that the cell growth was gone, that the blood issues had cleared up, and that I have symptoms of Lyme. I visited my dentist recently, who claimed that my teeth are fine, but I have minor irritation of the gums. My gums also bleed much more easily when brushing, now. I was given sensitive toothpaste and told to use warm salt water to try and clear up the gum issue, but it doesn't seem to have worked.
Left eye: https://i.imgur.com/FpzNK5s.jpg
Right leg infection: https://i.imgur.com/yqJ2IjP.jpg
Breakout around neck: https://i.imgur.com/GuVy8KG.jpg
Right foot: https://i.imgur.com/oTqLbUE.jpg
My assumption at this stage is that my condition is infectious, systemic, potentially chronic, and debilitating such that my bodily functions, such as my immune system, seem to be ineffective. I assume that this is some manner of infection, be it bacterial, fungal, or parasitic. I assume that there are false positives involved, such as the involvement of Lyme, as well as the persistent swelling under spots of skin infection potentially being confused for cysts or tumorous cell growths. What can you tell me about my condition based on this information? What is my condition? Are these separate conditions? What would you recommend for me to do moving forward?
submitted by medicalthrowaway5647 to AskDocs [link] [comments]
Left eye: https://i.imgur.com/FpzNK5s.jpg
Right leg infection: https://i.imgur.com/yqJ2IjP.jpg
Breakout around neck: https://i.imgur.com/GuVy8KG.jpg
Right foot: https://i.imgur.com/oTqLbUE.jpg
My assumption at this stage is that my condition is infectious, systemic, potentially chronic, and debilitating such that my bodily functions, such as my immune system, seem to be ineffective. I assume that this is some manner of infection, be it bacterial, fungal, or parasitic. I assume that there are false positives involved, such as the involvement of Lyme, as well as the persistent swelling under spots of skin infection potentially being confused for cysts or tumorous cell growths. What can you tell me about my condition based on this information? What is my condition? Are these separate conditions? What would you recommend for me to do moving forward?
2024.05.27 22:15 Canadian-Corgi Did a sputum culture, unsure what this mean? Chronic cough for 4 months
It'll be a few days (or ever) before my doc gets back to me so I thought I might ask here.
35/F with chronic cough for nearly 4 months now. Sputum Culture came back: 2+ White Blood Cells
1+ Red blood cells
2+ Epithelial cells
3+ Mixed oropharyngeal flora
In the last 4 monthd I've been to the ER 3X, clinic doctors 4-5x, been on prednisone 3x, amoxicillin 3x, have tried advair, flovent, and Symbicort. I found the steroid inhalers either dont help or make it worse.
I take ventoline 4-6x a day, take otc cold medication 4-6x/day for the cough suppressant. Chest xrays 2x (both clear). They also tried pantoprazole 40mg
I sleep mostly upright on the couch and will have coughing fits. They are dry in the morning and will often result in dry heaves/vomiting - later in the day it comes productive. My muscles ache from these coughing fits, I have a hoarse voice/strained voice + laryngospasm which scares me because it makes it hard to inhale again. I've developed stress incontinence and usually have to wear a heavy pad or incontinence underwear. Most coughing fits I feel dizzy/light headed and get black spots in my eyes. Any form of exertion usually results in a coughing fit (walking at a mild brisk pace, stairs, walking the dog, carrying things…even moving my neck in different positions, burping/hiccuping can trigger a coughing fit)
Bloodwork was most normal except:
D-dimer 0.93 mg/L DDU
CRP 31.7 mg/L
Last Tuesday I was sent to another town for an emergency CT scan because of my d-dimer results but after 13 pokes (5 nurses, vein finder + ultrasound) they couldn't get an iv line in for the contrast dye and gave up so it wasn't done. A VQ scan was recommended instead and I was told to wait to talk to my primary. I saw a different clinic doctor last Thursday who ordered a CT from a different town. They are going to try and place the iv at the hospital locally first before I drive 2 hours.
Needless to say I'm very frustrated and tired :(. I just want to know what's going on. Any suggestions are definitely helpful, thank you in advance!
submitted by Canadian-Corgi to AskDocs [link] [comments]
35/F with chronic cough for nearly 4 months now. Sputum Culture came back: 2+ White Blood Cells
1+ Red blood cells
2+ Epithelial cells
3+ Mixed oropharyngeal flora
In the last 4 monthd I've been to the ER 3X, clinic doctors 4-5x, been on prednisone 3x, amoxicillin 3x, have tried advair, flovent, and Symbicort. I found the steroid inhalers either dont help or make it worse.
I take ventoline 4-6x a day, take otc cold medication 4-6x/day for the cough suppressant. Chest xrays 2x (both clear). They also tried pantoprazole 40mg
I sleep mostly upright on the couch and will have coughing fits. They are dry in the morning and will often result in dry heaves/vomiting - later in the day it comes productive. My muscles ache from these coughing fits, I have a hoarse voice/strained voice + laryngospasm which scares me because it makes it hard to inhale again. I've developed stress incontinence and usually have to wear a heavy pad or incontinence underwear. Most coughing fits I feel dizzy/light headed and get black spots in my eyes. Any form of exertion usually results in a coughing fit (walking at a mild brisk pace, stairs, walking the dog, carrying things…even moving my neck in different positions, burping/hiccuping can trigger a coughing fit)
Bloodwork was most normal except:
D-dimer 0.93 mg/L DDU
CRP 31.7 mg/L
Last Tuesday I was sent to another town for an emergency CT scan because of my d-dimer results but after 13 pokes (5 nurses, vein finder + ultrasound) they couldn't get an iv line in for the contrast dye and gave up so it wasn't done. A VQ scan was recommended instead and I was told to wait to talk to my primary. I saw a different clinic doctor last Thursday who ordered a CT from a different town. They are going to try and place the iv at the hospital locally first before I drive 2 hours.
Needless to say I'm very frustrated and tired :(. I just want to know what's going on. Any suggestions are definitely helpful, thank you in advance!
2024.05.27 22:06 camwalker22 Jupiter passed this way…
The wind's keening howl faded into insignificance against the crashes shaking the walls of my grandfather's basement. It seemed as though Jupiter himself was strolling right through town. Each time his mighty foot fell nearby, I'd leap to my feet and wait for the rumbling to pass, holding the pose. My heart pounded in my ears while a thin layer of dust drifted down from the ceiling and settled in a fine coat, then I'd slump back into the springy armchair and rock myself to sleep again.
Lolling into consciousness, I checked my watch. 06:14. Something was wrong. The light had gone out. I flicked the electric heater off, on, off, on. Nothing. Then I noticed something else. The gale had stopped, and all was silent from above. I braced myself in case Jupiter decided to stamp on my house again to spite the thought, but no, the silence lasted.
I ascended to ground level, shielding my face from the light as I opened the door. I softly closed it behind me and stared in horror at the surrounding normality. Mounted clock ticking away. Slippers at the bottom of the stairs. Kitchen visible through the archway with potatoes sitting in a pan of water. I poked my head into the living room. The window was intact. As was the limestone coffee table and cabinet of old books. Mesoamerican-themed ornaments sat on the mantlepiece in perfect order. I entered the room to find the TV was mumbling away to itself and my grandfather sat watching brainlessly, as usual.
"Heck of a storm, eh, gramps? Guess you cleaned up already, so I'm going for a walk. Maybe somebody needs help down the street."
I patted his stiff shoulder and left. Every house looked pristine as I passed by, just as they had yesterday. Untouched by Jupiter's boot. I spotted Irene, an elderly neighbour, picking a newspaper up from her porch.
"Hey Irene, what about that storm last night, huh? And the government alert? Crazy, wasn't it?"
"I don't know what you mean, son." She said, and quickly disappeared behind the door, leaving me more perplexed than before.
I frowned and went on. At the end of the road was a junction. I walked out to look down the length of the street perpendicular. No damage in either direction. How could that be? My head started to swim and I felt dizzy. The glow of morning sunshine was offensive to me suddenly. I swatted at it, but lost my balance in doing so. I fell onto the tarmac, looking up at the sky. The concerned face of a young woman came into view. She removed a headphone and asked if I was OK.
"Why is everything the same as it was yesterday?"
"I don't know, man. It usually is." She said, and I couldn't help but laugh.
"But Jupiter passed this way..."
submitted by camwalker22 to flashfiction [link] [comments]
Lolling into consciousness, I checked my watch. 06:14. Something was wrong. The light had gone out. I flicked the electric heater off, on, off, on. Nothing. Then I noticed something else. The gale had stopped, and all was silent from above. I braced myself in case Jupiter decided to stamp on my house again to spite the thought, but no, the silence lasted.
I ascended to ground level, shielding my face from the light as I opened the door. I softly closed it behind me and stared in horror at the surrounding normality. Mounted clock ticking away. Slippers at the bottom of the stairs. Kitchen visible through the archway with potatoes sitting in a pan of water. I poked my head into the living room. The window was intact. As was the limestone coffee table and cabinet of old books. Mesoamerican-themed ornaments sat on the mantlepiece in perfect order. I entered the room to find the TV was mumbling away to itself and my grandfather sat watching brainlessly, as usual.
"Heck of a storm, eh, gramps? Guess you cleaned up already, so I'm going for a walk. Maybe somebody needs help down the street."
I patted his stiff shoulder and left. Every house looked pristine as I passed by, just as they had yesterday. Untouched by Jupiter's boot. I spotted Irene, an elderly neighbour, picking a newspaper up from her porch.
"Hey Irene, what about that storm last night, huh? And the government alert? Crazy, wasn't it?"
"I don't know what you mean, son." She said, and quickly disappeared behind the door, leaving me more perplexed than before.
I frowned and went on. At the end of the road was a junction. I walked out to look down the length of the street perpendicular. No damage in either direction. How could that be? My head started to swim and I felt dizzy. The glow of morning sunshine was offensive to me suddenly. I swatted at it, but lost my balance in doing so. I fell onto the tarmac, looking up at the sky. The concerned face of a young woman came into view. She removed a headphone and asked if I was OK.
"Why is everything the same as it was yesterday?"
"I don't know, man. It usually is." She said, and I couldn't help but laugh.
"But Jupiter passed this way..."
2024.05.27 21:16 Spike_Flings The Corpse In the Crater
They clung to the edge of the shell crater like a drowning man to driftwood. The rattle of the MG 08’s and the shriek and boom of artillery muffled all the shouts and cries and screams. A burst of bullets skipped across the top of the hole like a smooth stone across a calm lake. They heard a whistling like a distant kettle and then heard nothing but an almighty ringing in their ears, their very minds.
“Are you hit?” Tommy screamed over the chaos of the battlefield. William’s hearing came back in He fired one, twice from the lip of the defilade, not aiming at any spot in particular, just in the general area that the Germans were in. Squeeze the trigger, work the bolt, don’t look at the rotting corpse to your left. Just keep the rhythm. William thought. Just like training.
William patted himself down. He checked his chest, his legs. He felt wet down the leg of his trousers. Blood from a wound he feared, the mud of No Man’s Land he hoped, piss from fear he knew.
Tommy’s Springfield Rifle lay some yards away, half submerged in stagnant crater water, the butt splintered from a machine gun bullet.
“I don’t think…no, I’m okay. I’m fine.” William called. His fingers continued to search along his kit. His canteen had been struck; what little water he had left sloshed below the impact line. That thin, metal bottle had stopped much of the force of the bullet. It had probably been a ricochet anyway. He pressed his side. Blinding light and a feeling in his throat like he might hurl confirmed his fears.
A flash and roar like a thunderstorm from Hell erupted above them. And again. And again. William clasped his hands over his ears and screamed. He screamed for God, he screamed for his mother, he screamed for anyone or anything that could make it stop.
He could not die. Not here. Not in some devastated spit of land thousands of miles from home. Not while Martha waited for him. And not next to this carcass.
The body had been dead for some time, maybe even since the start of the war. A mud splattered uniform made him impossible to identify. His helmet, along with the entire top of his head, had been blasted into a ruin of metal and bone. His eyes had rotted away, or else been picked clean by the legion of rats that infested the area.
And suddenly, it grew quiet. The guns had stopped. And in that silence, the horror grew. Groans, moans, screeching horses and screaming men.
Dirt had showered William. It got on his neck, down his shirt, it stuck to his sweat soaked face and piss and blood stained pants like metal to a magnet.
William’s eyes grew wide as he saw the red-brown patch on Tommy’s side grow. “Oh, Christ!” He scrambled over the dirt and debris to his friend. “Tommy, your mask!” There was a chunk of shrapnel the size of William’s fist through the glass lense of the right eye socket of Tommy’s gas mask. It had punched clean through and lodged in his hip.
“I’m okay. I mean I’ve been hit, but I’m not dying here. The Germans haven’t deployed gas. Listen…no gas gong. We’re okay, Will.”
There were more screams now, more choking some muffled, all very human in their commiseration.
The corpse in the shell hole seemed to turn to look at William now, its eyeless sockets fixed right on him. Look up. William heard the voice in his mind, clear as if Tommy had said it.
William crawled away from Tommy and carefully, slowly, peered over the top.
It seemed like fog at first. It had a similar consistency. A sort of soupy, yellow-brown cloud was approaching, rolling over men and horses and devastation, inevitable as the ocean tide.
Gas. Mustard gas by the look of it. A mere touch causes your skin to blister. William did not want to imagine what happened if you inhaled it.
“Tommy! Gas!”
Thomas Totman, Private First Class, Brother, Son, William Lafevre’s best friend, drew his trench knife and advanced.
The blade was nicked from use. The brass knuckles attached to the handle, so proudly maintained through the first weeks of combat, were worn and cracked in places. But that blade was sharp. Sharp as the day was long. And today was July 4th, not far from the longest day of the year.
The knife cut through cloth and flesh as if they were butter. It sank to the hilt, retreated, and charged in again with the same ease as before. William went stiff and half rolled, half tumbled down the crater, next to the skeletal remains of one who came before.
The eyeless face, the exposed jaw and teeth, all seemed to grin at William as blood bubbled from his lips.
Tommy was on him again, though this time with searching hands. William tried to push him away, but his arms felt funny, his fingers numb.
Tommy snatched the rubber gas mask from William’s hip. It amazed him that something so small, so fragile, so unknown to them both until a few months ago, would not only destroy their decades long friendship, but also end his life.
Tommy pulled the mask on, squeezing it over his head and checking to make sure it sealed properly. Then he sat, pulled his legs to his chest and rocked back and forth, his breath misting the lenses.
The gas rolled over the lip of the crater, the smoke of a million cigarettes blown down a narrow stairwell. William tried to crawl away, maybe to the dead man, maybe he had a working mask.
His chest was screaming, begging for relief, and his useless arms did nothing but twitch at his side. The dead man’s jaw slammed open like a drawbridge, and he started laughing, cackling, as the gas descended to the bottom of the crater.
submitted by Spike_Flings to scarystories [link] [comments]
“Are you hit?” Tommy screamed over the chaos of the battlefield. William’s hearing came back in He fired one, twice from the lip of the defilade, not aiming at any spot in particular, just in the general area that the Germans were in. Squeeze the trigger, work the bolt, don’t look at the rotting corpse to your left. Just keep the rhythm. William thought. Just like training.
William patted himself down. He checked his chest, his legs. He felt wet down the leg of his trousers. Blood from a wound he feared, the mud of No Man’s Land he hoped, piss from fear he knew.
Tommy’s Springfield Rifle lay some yards away, half submerged in stagnant crater water, the butt splintered from a machine gun bullet.
“I don’t think…no, I’m okay. I’m fine.” William called. His fingers continued to search along his kit. His canteen had been struck; what little water he had left sloshed below the impact line. That thin, metal bottle had stopped much of the force of the bullet. It had probably been a ricochet anyway. He pressed his side. Blinding light and a feeling in his throat like he might hurl confirmed his fears.
A flash and roar like a thunderstorm from Hell erupted above them. And again. And again. William clasped his hands over his ears and screamed. He screamed for God, he screamed for his mother, he screamed for anyone or anything that could make it stop.
He could not die. Not here. Not in some devastated spit of land thousands of miles from home. Not while Martha waited for him. And not next to this carcass.
The body had been dead for some time, maybe even since the start of the war. A mud splattered uniform made him impossible to identify. His helmet, along with the entire top of his head, had been blasted into a ruin of metal and bone. His eyes had rotted away, or else been picked clean by the legion of rats that infested the area.
And suddenly, it grew quiet. The guns had stopped. And in that silence, the horror grew. Groans, moans, screeching horses and screaming men.
Dirt had showered William. It got on his neck, down his shirt, it stuck to his sweat soaked face and piss and blood stained pants like metal to a magnet.
William’s eyes grew wide as he saw the red-brown patch on Tommy’s side grow. “Oh, Christ!” He scrambled over the dirt and debris to his friend. “Tommy, your mask!” There was a chunk of shrapnel the size of William’s fist through the glass lense of the right eye socket of Tommy’s gas mask. It had punched clean through and lodged in his hip.
“I’m okay. I mean I’ve been hit, but I’m not dying here. The Germans haven’t deployed gas. Listen…no gas gong. We’re okay, Will.”
There were more screams now, more choking some muffled, all very human in their commiseration.
The corpse in the shell hole seemed to turn to look at William now, its eyeless sockets fixed right on him. Look up. William heard the voice in his mind, clear as if Tommy had said it.
William crawled away from Tommy and carefully, slowly, peered over the top.
It seemed like fog at first. It had a similar consistency. A sort of soupy, yellow-brown cloud was approaching, rolling over men and horses and devastation, inevitable as the ocean tide.
Gas. Mustard gas by the look of it. A mere touch causes your skin to blister. William did not want to imagine what happened if you inhaled it.
“Tommy! Gas!”
Thomas Totman, Private First Class, Brother, Son, William Lafevre’s best friend, drew his trench knife and advanced.
The blade was nicked from use. The brass knuckles attached to the handle, so proudly maintained through the first weeks of combat, were worn and cracked in places. But that blade was sharp. Sharp as the day was long. And today was July 4th, not far from the longest day of the year.
The knife cut through cloth and flesh as if they were butter. It sank to the hilt, retreated, and charged in again with the same ease as before. William went stiff and half rolled, half tumbled down the crater, next to the skeletal remains of one who came before.
The eyeless face, the exposed jaw and teeth, all seemed to grin at William as blood bubbled from his lips.
Tommy was on him again, though this time with searching hands. William tried to push him away, but his arms felt funny, his fingers numb.
Tommy snatched the rubber gas mask from William’s hip. It amazed him that something so small, so fragile, so unknown to them both until a few months ago, would not only destroy their decades long friendship, but also end his life.
Tommy pulled the mask on, squeezing it over his head and checking to make sure it sealed properly. Then he sat, pulled his legs to his chest and rocked back and forth, his breath misting the lenses.
The gas rolled over the lip of the crater, the smoke of a million cigarettes blown down a narrow stairwell. William tried to crawl away, maybe to the dead man, maybe he had a working mask.
His chest was screaming, begging for relief, and his useless arms did nothing but twitch at his side. The dead man’s jaw slammed open like a drawbridge, and he started laughing, cackling, as the gas descended to the bottom of the crater.
2024.05.27 21:10 alienz67 Not the worst, but I sure didn't enjoy it
 | 2nd time doing applique. Had 8 cats to put on for the Mod Meow pattern. Spent several hours hunched over like Gollum yesterday with my shoulders firmly planted against my ears going super slow to make sure they turned out right. Today: huge knot in my shoulder and my neck, shoulders and upper back hurt so much I can barely turn my head. How do people do a whole quilt of this??!! Better question: how do people enjoy this??!! submitted by alienz67 to quilting [link] [comments] |