How to build a wagon

how to not give a fuck

2012.02.29 03:35 afewseekhay how to not give a fuck

how to not give a fuck is the paradoxical problem-free philosophy @ https://discord.gg/bHV7hvMUMm
[link]


2018.05.15 14:05 adam8866 How NOT To Summon A Demon Lord (Isekai Maou)

A subreddit all about the popular manga, anime, and light novel series: How NOT To Summon A Demon Lord! (Isekai Maou to Shoukan Shoujo no Dorei Majutsu)
[link]


2012.06.04 00:35 kbiering cookingvideos: a video subreddit on how to cook

A place for anyone to post videos of their recipe or a recipe that they've found that was really enjoyable. Also a place to figure out different cooking techniques.
[link]


2024.05.19 03:07 glockpuppet Realistic Dungeons

Before I continue, I want to point out that I realize dungeons, as an RPG trope, aren't realistic at all. I mean, who has the resources, motivation, and engineers available to design a giant underground labyrinth beneath their castle? And how did the monsters get there?
So for the sake of discussion, I'll reduce the definition of a dungeon to a simplistic idea:
An interior, an isolated or enclosed space, or a subterranean location, filled with a number of physical dangers, difficult to navigate paths, and typically a place where valuable items are located
We don't need to agree on the specifics, only to get a general idea. So, for "realistic" ideas, we have for example:
Tombs, cairns, barrows, underground cities and cisterns, ruined castles and abbeys, large corporate buildings, catacombs, archeological sites, buried temples, mountain temples, sewers, subway tunnels, enclosed urban regions of severe poverty, abandoned psychiatric hospitals and prisons, oil refineries and factories
In many cases, these places will be relatively small or easy to navigate, certainly not labyrinthine in most cases. Plus, enemies will likely be few in number, or there will be none at all, and conventional traps largely absent.
"Why have dungeons in a grounded setting?"
Dungeon sequences have generally great pacing and a good balance between combat and group-based problem solving. In a dungeon, everyone gets to play their roles in some capacity. In contrast, sequences specifically focused on combat are often tedious for "role-players" and social navigation can be unbearable for action oriented players. I've watched or read about plenty of sessions where action players wind up twiddling their thumbs and having their characters on the bench for an hour or two because the social encounter is dragging on. Granted, better design and creative agenda can address this but that's getting too far away from the scope of discussion
Anyway, the question becomes: how do we add dungeon-typical elements to a realistic dungeon without breaking immersion? I have a few ideas but I specifically would like to hear yours
Idea:
Dunluce castle in the North of Ireland is a ruined structure set atop a seaside cliff. There also happens to be a "mermaid cave" inside this cliff. The structure itself has an outer bailey which is connected to the inner bailey by a bridge that crosses over a deep rocky gap, so that the main castle at the cliff's edge is completely isolated. We can easily dungeon-ify this area by connecting a tunnel to the mermaid cave, which would be particularly useful during a siege. If we want a more English feel, there could be a dark ancient oak forest that leads up to it. For enemies, we could have a robber baron and his bandits holed up there with a wooden palisade reinforcing the outer bailey, and the ancient forest could be dotted with small encampments for scouting and robbing merchants. Thus, a main road between urban centers could cut through the forest, and it could have overturned carriages and wagons indicating where the danger zone begins.
After fighting, sneaking, or talking their way through the forest, the players could pose as bandits and walk through the front, or find the small boat that leads to the cave, or wait until low tide. In the tunnels could be some old battle supplies and hidey holes, and maybe a sentry or two to slip past
submitted by glockpuppet to CrunchyRPGs [link] [comments]


2024.05.19 00:59 GoAheadMMDay UPDATE 3: Torment Techniques Used by Canadian and US Militaries

UPDATE 3: Torment Techniques Used by Canadian and US Militaries
Update #3 appears at the bottom.
Due to numerous disparaging comments by multiple individuals, I have reposted my article.
Heckling does not change what occurred. People need to know these truths, especially those who have experienced the same. They need to know they are sane, that such things are indeed being perpetrated, and the perpetrators use shame to silence them and protect their activities.
I write to encourage them not to listen to disparaging people who speak without knowledge.
February 10, 2024
I am Joseph Cafariello, a Canadian citizen and ex-member of the Canadian military. Of sound mind, not on medication, not a drug user, not a marijuana smoker, not an alcohol drinker, with no mental disorders.
I recently posted to this Liberty subreddit experiences of harassment by Vancouver's police and fire departments (Vancouver, BC, Canada). I’m the fellow who was repeatedly ordered by police to stay out of Vancouver’s Stanley Park, and was continually harassed whenever I visited the park (which I do every second day on my early morning walks).
Immediately following that post, they changed some of the techniques they use in my case. They were either informed of my post or found it themselves, seeing as my internet activity, and phone activity for that matter, are under continuous surveillance (plenty of proof which I will not include here to avoid running off-topic).
In this post, I would like to shed some light on other harassment which is still ongoing, since it occurs in private, away from potential observers. It involves the Canadian and US militaries.
Havana Syndrome
In 2016, numerous employees of the Canadian and US embassies in Havana, Cuba, started experiencing head injuries ranging from mild headaches to concussions. It happened in their sleep, and came to be called Havana Syndrome.
Wikipedia explains (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Havana\_syndrome):
“Havana syndrome is a cluster of idiopathic symptoms experienced mostly abroad by U.S. government officials and military personnel. The symptoms range in severity from pain and ringing in the ears to cognitive dysfunction and were first reported in 2016 by U.S. and Canadian embassy staff in Havana, Cuba. Beginning in 2017, more people, including U.S. intelligence and military personnel and their families, reported having these symptoms in other places, such as China, India, Europe, and Washington, D.C. The U.S. Department of State, Department of Defense, and other federal entities have called the events "Anomalous Health Incidents" (AHI). Of over a thousand purported cases, the majority of US investigative bodies found only a few dozen cases to be suspicious.”
Ladies and gentlemen, I can tell you exactly what happens, because I have been experiencing this since I first joined the Canadian military back in 2002, and am still experiencing these “torments” (as I call them) to this day, already 3 years after leaving the military.
I go to bed. In about 15 minutes, just as I am on the cusp of falling asleep, a hear and feel a heavy thud reverberate and ultimately strike my skull. My body releases a sharp burst of adrenalin, my heart starts racing, and my blood’s circulation speeds up significantly. Depending on the severity of the blow, it can take me anywhere from 30 minutes to an hour to fall asleep again. Though there have been times I could not return to sleep for more than 2 hours.
A strong headache is felt immediately, and lasts for hours. There have been times when my heart felt like it was going to burst, having been startled as such.
The pulse to the head sometimes reverberates through the wall and my bed’s headboard. I distinctly feel as though I have been hit on the top of my skull. At other times, it feels as though the pulse has come through the air, striking the side of my skull.
This is not a sleep disorder, for it does not occur regularly. At times, my sleep is disturbed in this manner 3 or 4 days in a row. At other times, there is no disturbance for up to a week. But they never let me go more than a week without such interruptions to my sleep.
Neither is it sleep apnea, as I do not awaken gasping for breath. The pounding headaches, sudden release of adrenaline, and heart palpitations I experience are caused by external impacts of sound waves or air bursts.
Sonic Weapons
How these pulses are produced is not easy to identify. As Wikipedia explains:
“Once the story became public, various U.S. government representatives attributed the incidents to attacks by unidentified foreign actors, and various U.S. officials blamed the reported symptoms on a variety of unidentified and unknown technologies, including ultrasound and microwave weapons.”
Sonic weapons have been in use for many years by militaries, and by police in crowd control. As Wikipedia explains (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sonic\_weapon):
“Some sonic weapons make a focused beam of sound or of ultrasound; others produce an area field of sound. As of 2023 military and police forces make some limited use of sonic weapons.”
(Do not believe the 2023 timeline. The Canadian military has been using these weapons since the early 2000’s at the latest.)
Wikipedia continues:
“Extremely high-power sound waves can disrupt or destroy the eardrums of a target and cause severe pain or disorientation. This is usually sufficient to incapacitate a person. Less powerful sound waves can cause humans to experience nausea or discomfort.”
The users of these technologies must also be using thermal detection equipment to monitor the target’s sleep. As I mentioned, I most often feel these blows the moment I am falling asleep. Body temperature drops when we sleep, and brain activity slows. Heat-detection equipment is likely being used to identify the point at which the target is falling asleep.
Why they prefer to strike at the start of someone’s sleep as opposed to the middle of their sleep, I do not know. Perhaps their intent is to deprive the body of early sleep, limiting the amount of deep sleep available to the person before their alarm rings in the morning.
Ordinary Hammers
Not all such “torments” (as I call them) are caused by high-tech equipment. I have heard and felt distinct hammer strikes running along the 2x4 beams inside my walls. These strikes can be a single hard strike, or several strikes in a row. It is definitely caused by a person with a hammer because the intervals between strikes are equidistant in time; that is, the time spacing between strikes is not random and does not change from strike to strike, but is constant between strikes, exactly as when someone is hammering. And no, it is not someone hanging pictures at 1:30 am, multiple times a week, for years.
On one occasion, when I was standing at my kitchen sink, I felt the floor-board directly under my feet pulse so sharply it felt like a brick had struck the soles of my feet. In this case, my military neighbour likely used a hammer to strike the floorboard on his side of the wall. It is the only plausible explanation.
Surveillance
This leads to surveillance of one’s activities at home. I have plenty of proofs of that. They seem insignificant on an individual basis. But when you put them all together, they present a clear picture of home surveillance.
My laptop computer’s lid cracked one night, at the bottom left corner of the screen. The next day at work, I heard my military supervisor relate to another co-worker that the night before, his laptop computer’s lid cracked at the bottom left corner. I swear to the Lord in Heaven, I am being truthful.
I tested my suspicion of being surveilled. At home one night, I blurted out-loud, “VW Passat. What an ugly sounding word, ‘Passat’”, I said. A few days later, my military colleagues at work started playing a card game at lunch, invented by one of them. The name he gave his game was “Passat”, and when he spoke it, he looked at me for a reaction. If you ever contact the Halifax military base, ask for the Claims Department and ask them if they are still playing Passat.
On another occasion, at a time when I frequented the gym every second day for a few years, I suspected my van had been fitted with a listening device. I suspected so because a number of things I had spoken with people about on my phone while in my van (nothing illegal) were repeated by people at the gym in conversations among themselves. Too many times, parts of other people's conversations matched parts of conversations I had had with others while I was in my van.
I already knew my phone was being tapped, but I also suspected my van was bugged. So one evening while driving in my van, I blurted out-loud a number of things I said I hated. "I hate (this or that)"; "I hate it when...". One of them was, "I hate when people chew gum with their mouths open." I then vocalized an exaggerated gnawing sound, "Gnaw. Gnaw. Gnaw."
The very next time I went to the gym, 2 days later, while I was at an exercise, a fellow sat at an exercise directly behind me. And sure enough, he started chewing with his mouth open, vocalizing that gnawing sound, "Gnaw. Gnaw. Gnaw." I didn't look behind at him, because I knew what was going on, and I wanted to avoid playing into his hand. So he repeated himself again and again until I was done and moved to a different station. Now, honestly, who chews gum at the gym? You can't. Or you run the risk of choking for the heavy breathing, not to mention when laying down on benches. And with precisely the same exaggerated vocalized gnawing sound I had made in my van just 2 days prior.
Their whole intent is to let you know you are being surveilled. They want you to know, as both a warning and a provocation. They want you to say something, to launch accusations, which they would readily deny, making you look paranoid. If you react too strongly, they could even have you diagnosed with some kind of disorder, and put you on medication, which further plays into their hand. (More regarding medications in the last section of this post.)
This is why, as I mentioned in my previous post, they would park their cars shining their high beams on me as I walked past them during my morning walk. And why on some occasions, a group of 3 or 4 would exit their cars and stand on my path just as I approached, forcing me to go around them. They would then remain standing on the path until my return trip through, and after I had passed by the second time, then would then return to their cars - making it absolutely clear I was their interest.
Their intent is not only to make me aware, but also to present themselves in close proximity to me, within easy reach, in the hope I would confront them, resulting in an altercation that could land me in a lot of hot water - 4 witnesses against me, all pleading innocence.
Again, it is all designed to make you look bad, and to warrant some kind of legal measure against you - preferably a medical diagnosis, discrediting you in everything you say about them. If they can't refute your claims, their only remaining option is to discredit you. That's what all of these tricks are designed to accomplish. Who would believe anything you say, once you have been diagnosed with a disorder?
There are plenty more examples. But who would really believe them? I’ll save them for the future.
Home Invasion
Both during and after my military service, I have had my apartments entered without any signs of break-ins. How? Lock-picking and duplicate keys. Indications? Missing objects; ie: money, phone adaptor, etc. Nothing major. Just something to make us understand we are being watched, and to make us understand what they can do.
But it is always something small, something for which you would be ridiculed for divulging.
Two more examples: I found my razor, which I always lay-down razor-end to the wall, turned around, razor-end toward me. Also, in one of my house slippers I found a small shoe sticker on the up-side of the heel. I had those slipper for years, and never had any shoe stickers on them. Yet there it was, clearly visible on the top surface of my slipper, not the bottom. Could I have stepped on a shoe sticker when barefoot in my apartment, only to have the sticker transfer itself to my slipper when I wore it? How many shoe stickers do you have laying around your apartment that you can accidentally step onto?
If I had stepped onto a sticker in my apartment and had it stick to my heel, that means the sticky side was up against my skin. This means the sticker would have had to flip upside down such that the sticky side would then be down, allowing the sticker to stick to the slipper. Do you really think that happened? That sticker was not there when I left my apartment, but it was there when I returned. And it was the wrong sticker, wrong brand, wrong size.
Again, what is their intent? To make someone look ridiculous so no one will believe them should they speak of other more sensitive things.
Staged Incidents
The above incidents clearly point to coordinated and staged events (at my work, my home, on my walks, etc). This is so frequently met with incredulity. "But that would require coordination on the part of so many people," the public dismisses. "They wouldn't do that."
Oh yes they would, and they have, as explained in https://fightgangstalking.com/. Note the documented cases involving the Canadian Security Intelligence Service (CSIS, Canada's equivalent to the US' CIA) and the Royal Canadian Mounted Police (RCMP, Canada's national police force), which were reported in national newspapers.
From https://fightgangstalking.com/ :
“Disruption operations often involve tactics which are illegal, but difficult to prove. These tactics include – but are not limited to – overt surveillance (stalking), slander, blacklisting, “mobbing” (intense, organized harassment in the workplace), “black bag jobs” [home invasions], abusive phone calls, computer hacking, framing, threats, blackmail, vandalism, “street theater” (staged physical and verbal interactions with minions of the people who orchestrate the stalking), harassment by noises, and other forms of bullying. Many of these tactics were used by the FBI during its illegal COINTELPRO operations, as documented by stolen official documents and subsequent Congressional investigations.
"Although the general public is mostly unfamiliar with the practice, references to “disruption” operations – described as such – do occasionally appear in the news media, even though that fact would apparently be news to the editors of The New York Times. In May 2006, for example, an article in The Globe and Mail, a Canadian national newspaper, reported that the Canadian Security Intelligence Service (CSIS) and the Royal Canadian Mounted Police (RCMP) used “Diffuse and Disrupt” tactics against suspects for whom they lacked sufficient evidence to prosecute. A criminal defense attorney stated that many of her clients complained of harassment by authorities, although they were never arrested."
She can add me to that list too.
For the Benefit of Others
The experiences I have recounted here seem so trivial, so insignificant, they make you look ridiculous if you talk about them. But if we don’t talk about such things, no one will ever know about them. Other people have experienced the same, and are forced to endure such torments in silence. They need encouragement to talk about their own experiences, and so I write about mine in the hope they will talk about theirs, even if I do look ridiculous. The perpetrators are more ridiculous for doing them.
I remember a military colleague being hauled away by military police one morning, as she was struggling and having a violent fit. A fellow on her floor told me she was throwing chairs at her walls screaming, “Stop it! Stop it! Stop it!”. When he mentioned that, I knew exactly what they had done to her. She was considered unruly, and was being watched intently. They wanted her out, and that is how they accomplished it. Through wall tapping and sleep deprivation, they push you to the breaking point. And when you finally lose control and do something rash, they pounce on you, and you’re out. Now she has a criminal record, considered a criminal when in reality she was a victim. Welcome to the Canadian military, and other militaries besides, I am sure.
There are dozens upon dozens of experiences I could present. But who will really read them? Worse still, who will really believe them? I overheard my military supervisor in Halifax whisper to another, “Do you think he knows?”, after I had mentioned one of the many “coincidences” I experienced, but with a tone of my being aware it was not a mere coincidence. As I turned my face to my computer screen, I whispered under my breath, but still loud enough for him to hear, “Yes, (rank) (name), I know.” A few minutes later, as he walked past my desk, he leaned in by my ear and whispered, “We’re trying to help you.” I should have pressed him for answers right then and there, but you just don’t know how much trouble you can get into when making such accusations in the military. So I let it go. But I will never forget.
Should anyone reading this ever decide to launch some kind of inquiry, I can mention names of over 100 people to contact, including military personnel, family members, neighbours, building managers, and others who have been contacted by military personnel with false narratives about me. They flash their ID’s and other credentials, and people believe anything they say. They turn family, friends, co-workers and neighbours against you, even recruiting their participation. Your acquaintances not only participate, but actually feel justified and emboldened playing tricks on you. It isn't their fault, though; they have been misled. I would reference them solely for corroboration.
As a final thought, here are explanations of two military programs in which certain persons (sometimes military, sometimes civilian) are kept under constant surveillance, and are in some cases subjected to conditioning in an attempt to turn them into what is called a “sleeper agent”. Almost all of the tactics presented below have been experience by me, including constant surveillance (ie: my previous post here regarding being harassed on my morning walks) and sleep deprivation (as per the top portion of this post, which other military members in Cuba and elsewhere around the world have also experienced).
Pentagon’s Signature Reduction Program
See Newsweek’s article: https://www.newsweek.com/exclusive-inside-militarys-secret-undercover-army-1591881
Some excerpts from that Newsweek article, plus more background information on the Pentagon’s Signature Reduction Program, can be found here: https://fightgangstalking.com/
“The largest undercover force the world has ever known is the one created by the Pentagon over the past decade. Some 60,000 people now belong to this secret army, many working under masked identities and in low profile, all part of a broad program called “signature reduction.” The force, more than ten times the size of the clandestine elements of the CIA, carries out domestic and foreign assignments, both in military uniforms and under civilian cover, in real life and online, sometimes hiding in private businesses and consultancies, some of them household name companies.
“…a little-known sector of the American military, but also a completely unregulated practice. No one knows the program’s total size, and the explosion of signature reduction has never been examined for its impact on military policies and culture. Congress has never held a hearing on the subject. And yet the military developing this gigantic clandestine force challenges U.S. laws, the Geneva Conventions, the code of military conduct and basic accountability.
“…The signature reduction effort engages some 130 private companies to administer the new clandestine world. Dozens of little known and secret government organizations support the program, doling out classified contracts and overseeing publicly unacknowledged operations.
"Federal spy agencies are using Americans to spy on their fellow citizens – the same approach to governance famously employed by communist East Germany."
How to Develop a Hypnotic Sleeper Agent
By Dantalion Jones / Masters of Mind Control
The following “was” on the web, but has been removed. Surprise, surprise. But I saved its web files to my computer years ago, knowing that sooner or later it would be removed. I made a jpeg image of the web page as it once appeared, attached here.
Note that I have experienced almost all of the tactics described below, including the stalking I mentioned in my previous post here (regular walks in the park), the sleep deprivation noted at the top of this post, and the surveillance and intrusions described here as well.
Quoting the now-removed webpage: “How to Develop a Hypnotic Sleeper Agent” (from here to end of post):
Amid all the conspiracy theories one of the most feared is that there exist "sleeper agents" in our society who are programmed to come into service when they are triggered by a phone call or key word.
These alleged sleeper agents don't even know they are programmed to become saboteurs, soldiers, suicide bomber, etc because of the thoroughness of their programming. They are the feared "Manchurian Candidate" that the movies portray.
The question is "Are they real?"
If they are true sleeper agents there is no way of telling until they are activated. One can however theorize exactly how they are made.
Indoctrination
Using indoctrination a person can be made to embrace a religious or philosophical belief that would make becoming a sleeper agent possible.
This would be a person so committed to an ideal they would be willing to wait patiently as a member of society until they are called into action. These people would know their mission and consciously hold it secret while interacting with the rest of society.
Conditioning
Conditioning is a repetitive process where the desired responses are enforced and rewarded and unwanted responses are punished. This can be done consciously as part of training drill and it can be done subconsciously using hypnosis or drugs to create amnesia.
Hypnosis
It has been demonstrated that hypnosis can create "amnesia walls" in which the subject has no conscious memory of what happened in the hypnosis session. It has further been demonstrated that hypnosis can give post hypnotic instruction to be carried out automatically in the waking state without the subject knowing it or questioning the behavior.
What follows is conjecture and theory based on testimonials of people who were alleged to be sleeper agents and soldiers.
Continuous Supervisions
Continuous supervision doesn't mean that the subject is cut off completely from society. It means that they are constantly overseen and every aspect of their lives are managed (without their knowledge or consent) to support their hypnotic programming.
This would include:
• Repeated reinforcement of all hypnotic conditioning.
• Handlers. Handlers are people who help maintain the subjects environment to maintain all the programming. They can play the role of family, friends, lovers, psychologists, coaches or any roll the subject perceives as supportive. The truth is the handlers are their to support the successful fulfillment of the programming and not the subject as a person.
• Minimal sleep so that the mind/brain does not process all the sleeper conditioning during sleep.
• Creating constant environmental challenges like unemployment or poverty. This gives the subject something other than their programming to focus on.
• Frequent hospitalization. This gives overt opportunity to sedate the subject for conditioning. If the subject has a history of hospitalizations for mental disturbances all the better. No one will take them seriously.
Joseph Cafariello
PS... Today is the second day after this post (February 12, 2024). A garbage truck just slammed into my parked car.
PPS... I finish writing this post because I am satisfied with its shape and content; not because of what happened to my car.
It is similar to when you are reaching for your coat, and someone tells you, "Take your coat." Since you have to take your coat, your brain tells you it's ok to obey them, and you comply. They just created an instance where they led you, and you followed them. And your brain accepted it.
It's a technique the military uses all the time. It trains you to accept instructions from that person or group. Done enough times, you become comfortable obeying them.
I just say, "I take my coat because I choose to, not because you tell me to." It's important to make that clear, to block the conditioning and affirm our self-governance; not just to them, but to ourselves as well. Now our brain realizes we took our coat by our own choice; we are still in command.
So too, I say regarding today's event. "Thanks for the warning, but I had already finished writing my post. I finished by my own choosing."
UPDATES 1 & 2: February 26 & March 07, 2024:
My apartment was once again entered while I was out. Either a key was used or the lock was picked. This may or may not have included assistance from building staff. Home invasions are included in the list of their techniques noted above, referred to as "black bag jobs".
All tenants on my floor received new fridges a couple of weeks ago. I removed the tape securing the bins inside my new fridge, and also removed all styrofoam pads from the corners of the glass shelves when I repositioned them.
The person(s) who have been invading my living space on a regular basis have struck again. As you can see in the photo below, the styrofoam pads on the corners of my fridge's shelves were restored when I was out of my apartment. I had removed all pads when I repositioned the shelves. Yet now they are back.
It is a tactic used to undermine our observational awareness in an attempt to make us second-guess and doubt ourselves. The aim is to cause people to feel less sure not only of the things we have done, but also feel less sure of the things others have done. They want us to question the accuracy of our observations and memory.
The idea is to train you to dismiss any anomalies you may observe as being your own misperception of things. Once they convince you not to trust your own judgement, they are free to do whatever they want to you, and you will simply accept it without questioning.
UPDATE 3: May 18, 2024:
Confrontations with individuals keep occurring, at times potentially violent. Following are just 3 such encounters as of late.
1 - Kick-boxer in the park:
As I parked my car in one of the parking lots in Vancouver's Stanley Park one night, another vehicle drove up behind me and parked several spots away. A tall man exited that vehicle, and walked hastily along the path I always walk, down some steps to the water's sea wall path. I took my time and followed my usual walk, also down the steps down to the sea wall. The man knew my routine, and was in a hurry to get ahead of me.
As I walked along the sea wall, I saw the same man sitting on a bench, playing a loud religious sermon in a foreign language on a device I did not clearly see. As I walked past him, he called out to me to stop and chat. I ignored him and continued walking past. He rose and started walking behind me.
I opened my umbrella, turned, and walked past him the other way, returning to the stairs back to the parking lot. He also turned and continued following me. I started running. He also started running. I ran up the steps, as did he.
Being taller than I am, his legs are longer than mine, and he quickly caught up to me on a grassy patch at the top of the steps. I turned to him and asked, "Why are you following me?" He did not reply, but stood profile to me, the same stance a kick-boxer uses when ready to kick someone. He was tall, thin, and in excellent physical shape as you would see in a kick-boxer.
He did not speak at all, but was just waiting for me to make a move. I turned, entered my vehicle and left. The encounter continued with a chase through the park in our cars. Yes, that is correct. He chased me out of the park in his car.
2 - Told to keep quiet:
The perpetrators need to operate with as little detection as possible, and they repeatedly warn their subjects to keep their mouths shut about their experiences.
On another of my recent nightly walks, a man stood on the sidewalk ahead of me about half a block away, looked at me, and shouted into the sky at nobody, giving the appearance of being a homeless person shouting for no reason. He then started walking in my direction. I continued walking straight. As he passed me, he leaned into my face and shouted into my ear, "Shut the f_ck up!" I continued walking in my direction, and he resumed walking in his.
The idea is to make it seem as though he is just a deranged man wandering the streets at night, shouting at nothing, so that when he shouts at me, any observer would simply dismiss his actions. But in reality, he was sent to send me a message to stop publishing posts like this, which I had done many times on many sites, and continue to. They don't like it when we reveal their methods. But the truth must be known.
3 - You'll be sorry:
On another occasion, while returning from grocery shopping one afternoon, I walked past a man sitting by a storefront. He was clean-cut, wearing clean clothes, without any carts or wagons or any belongings of any kind. As I passed him, he asked me for some spare change. I replied, "I'm sorry," and continued walking past. He replied, "You will be."
There are numerous other experiences, like two seemingly unassociated men standing on the sea wall about 100 meters away from each other, each of them spitting just as I walked past each one.
There are too many experiences to mention. Looking at each experience individually, one would easily dismiss them as being unrelated and simply coincidental. But put them all together and a picture starts to form, like putting together the pieces of a puzzle.
As I hand you each piece of the puzzle one by one, you dismiss each piece, saying, "This could be anything." And you discard it. You keep discarding each piece as I hand it to you. By the end of it, you look down at the table and say, "You have nothing." That's because you looked at each piece as a separate item and threw it away. But if you leave the pieces on the table as I hand them to you and do not hastily discard them, you will see they form a clear picture when put all together.
We must look at all these events as a whole. Individually, each one could be anything. But when all of these experiences are put together and considered as a whole, they form an undeniable picture. Do not be quick to dismiss each piece. Leave the pieces on the table and look at the whole. The picture I present is sound. Remember, I have all the pieces; you do not. I see the picture more clearly than you do.
https://preview.redd.it/we31ymcsm91d1.jpg?width=966&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=3d56ac3dd3558a60d477ba9315104d1b66b139f8
submitted by GoAheadMMDay to Liberty [link] [comments]


2024.05.18 18:23 RadicalPterodactyl [Online][D&D 5E][Tuesdays 6-10 PM US Eastern] Need 1-2 players for upcoming Phandelver and Below: The Shattered Obelisk campaign!

This campaign has not started yet. We had a last minute dropout due to IRL reasons. The first session is this upcoming Tuesday.

The Flavor Intro

GOBLIN AMBUSH SHOCKS TRAVELERS ON TRIBOAR TRAIL

The Actual Intro

Hey everyone. My name is Justin, I'm in my late 20s, and I've been playing 5E for over four years now, and I am putting together a group to play through the official D&D adventure the re-release of Lost Mine of Phandelver "Phandelver and Below: The Shattered Obelisk"!
We will be using Discord for voice and Foundry as our VTT. We'll be running the game on Tuesdays from 6 to 10 PM US Eastern.
The first session will be on Tuesday 21 May 2024. We've already had our session zero, so you'll be getting a one on one with me sometime before to make sure everyone is on the same page.

The DM

So D&D is a pretty intimate game. It's not as simple as sitting down and playing Scrabble with someone for a few hours a week. There's a lot of talking, interaction, and creative collaboration. To have a fulfilling experience with a storytelling game like this, you need to vibe really well with the rest of the people at the (virtual) table. So before we get into nitty gritty game mechanics, who am I as a Dungeon Master?
I love helping create positive experiences for everyone at the table. I value good chemistry, common courtesy, and social awareness. I put a lot of work into my games and I would hope my players reciprocate that effort by learning their characters, respecting everyone else's time, taking notes, and building their fellow players up (the DM included). I'm a big nerd and I'm super passionate about storytelling and world-building. I'm currently running another campaign on Thursdays but there are too many great stories to tell with only just one group, so I'm looking for more people to bring into the fold.
My favorite works are The Lord of the Rings, the Witcher books, the Dark Souls series (really most stuff made by Hidetaka Miyazaki), Baldur's Gate 3, as well as Fallout 1 and 2, and Fallout: New Vegas. I'm a big fan of more gritty, down-to-earth fantasy and other settings. There are two kinds of Skyrim players: players who mod infinite carry weight because they just wanna run around and blow things up, and players who mod lower carry weight because they want a grittier experience. I am the second kind. So if you're looking for someone who's more into anime or stuff like Avatar the Last Airbender, we might have some creative differences! That doesn't have to be a deal breaker, but I want you to know what to expect. That being said, I also love over-the-top nonsensical stuff that doesn't take itself too seriously. I love works like Army of Darkness, DOOM, Emperor's New Groove.
Outside the box, I'm a midwesterner, a veteran, politically lean mostly left, and I love history. I love Greek and Norse mythology. My music taste reflects my midwestern emo angst, and I've been listening to bands like Say Anything and Taking Back Sunday for the last 15 years.

The Game

So first and foremost, I run things very close to RAW, with as little homebrew or house rules as possible. I am not really a "rule of cool" Dungeon Master.
The house rules I do have can be found here. Mostly innocuous and optional stuff, but the most impactful are variant encumbrance and short rests are only 10 minutes but limited to two per long rest.
I also have an explicit "no real world allegories" policy in my games. I will never attempt to push my personal political, religious, or social beliefs onto the party. There could be stories inspired by real events, but I'm just trying to tell a good story, and I'm not trying to push an agenda.
As for tone, on a scale of 1 to 10 with 1 being Emperor's New Groove and 10 being Game of Thrones, I am going for about a 6. A "mostly serious" experience where there are heavy themes and tones with frequent light-hearted moments in between. This is an adventure featuring things like slavery and body horror so if you have a light stomach, this might not be the game for you. There will be occasional gore, and potentially adult themes, although any explicit sexual scenes won't be depicted or described. Additionally, sexual violence could be referenced or alluded to, but will never be explicitly depicted. You can trust I'm not here trying to intentionally make anyone uncomfortable but I'm also not interesting in censoring the story because you didn't know what you signed up for. If you've ever read something like the Witcher or played Dark Souls and were okay with what you saw, you'll be fine here.
Lastly, while I am very strict about how I want to build the world and its aesthetics, I also want to the party play their own roles in it. There are neither cutscenes nor railroads here. I'll be picky about using character art that matches everyone else's, but the town of Phandalin is your oyster to build up or break down how the party sees fit.
So if you don't like 99% RAW, slightly grittier fantasy, or the risks associated with answering the call to adventure, this might not be the campaign for you.
But all that being said, this is still a game, and the point is to tell a fun, collaborative story while killing monsters in caves and graverobbing for magical treasure.
So if you've read over the GMBinder link and find the house rules to be acceptable, than you can continue on to the nitty gritty of the actual setting and campaign.

The Campaign

As for what this campaign is specifically about, it takes place in the official Dungeons & Dragons setting of the Forgotten Realms, and I'm running the Lost Mine of Phandelver sequel/remake "Phandelver and Below: The Shattered Obelisk."
You’re in the city of Neverwinter when your dwarf patron and friend, Gundren Rockseeker, hires you to escort a wagon to Phandalin. Gundren has gone ahead with a warrior, Sildar Hallwinter, to attend to business in the town while you follow with the supplies. You will be paid 10 gp each by the owner of Barthen’s Provisions in Phandalin when you deliver the wagon safely to that trading post.
This campaign runs from level 1 to 12, and concerns a miriad of enemies including but not limited to goblinoids, undead, and aberrations (namely mind flayers).
The campaign itself is a little bit of a railroad, with a very important "main plot" that forces the party to achieve specific in-game goals, but there are branching paths that lots of options in the main story for the party to alter it how they see fit based on their decisions in-game. Central plot-points concern saving and building up the frontier town of Phandalin; the goblins and their schemes and how they connect to a bigger, more nefarious plot; and ultimately saving the land from a much bigger threat from down below.
You will be starting at 1st level, and we can go over the nitty gritty character creation stuff during your one-on-one Session Zero.
So if you've read through the post, find my house rules and the setting satisfactory, then you can send me a message!

What I Want From You

Again, we'll be running the game on Tuesdays from 6 to 10 PM US Eastern. The first official session will be Tuesday 21 May 2024.

What I'm Looking For

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2024.05.18 13:59 Yurii_S_Kh The Icon of the Most Holy Mother of God, “The Inexhaustible Cup”

The Icon of the Most Holy Mother of God, “The Inexhaustible Cup”
A wonderful healing has been given to us through your holy icon, O Sovereign Lady Theotokos. By its appearance we have been delivered from spiritual and physical ills, and from sorrowful circumstances. We therefore offer our thankful praise to you, O merciful Protectress.
From the akathist to the Icon of the Mother of God, “The Inexhaustible Cup”
“The Inexhaustible Cup” wonderworking icon of the Holy Theotokos
The excellent Russian author Ivan Sergeyevich Shmelev (1873-1950) who wrote much about everyday life of pious Orthodox people of the pre-Revolution Russia, described, among other things, the veneration of the wonderworking Icon of the Mother of God “The Inexhaustible Cup” which appeared in 1878 in Serpukhov (a town some 100 kilometers/c.62 miles south of Moscow) and kept at Vladychny Convent of the Entry of the Mother of God into the Temple. This is an extract from that work:
“…Peasant wagons move towards the convent along forest tracks. Exhausted women bring their near and dear from hundreds of miles away: raving, yelling with savage voices, men of bestial appearance try to release themselves from ropes. “The Inexhaustible Cup” heals the disease of drunkenness. Those who have lost their human appearance gaze at the indescribable Icon with their maddened eyes, not understanding What and Who She is—She Who radiantly looks at them with a golden chalice, bright, and drawing them to Herself—and they calm down. And while quiet young girls in white headscarves carry it and sing with joyful voices, thousands of those whose souls suffer and seek consolation fall down beneath it to the dirty ground. Unseeing, inflamed eyes stare at the bright icon with wild looks and cry excitedly, “I give up alcoholism (I promise to give up)!” Hysterical women writhe and utter curses, tearing their blouses… and in excitement fix their gaze on the eyes that draw attention to themselves. Betrothed couples come and hang pink ribbons—an earnest of happiness. Young mothers bring their first-born children, and the icon looks joyfully at them. What draws all of them to her nobody can explain—no one has found the words to express their inward feelings. I only feel that joy enters the soul.”
In his marvelous story with the same name Shmelev told one of the legends associated with “The Inexhaustible Cup” Icon, according to which a serf master named Ilia had painted this icon. The official history is silent about this, but it is this story that the wonderworking icon owes its fame, though, first of all, it is its miraculous power to heal alcoholism.
In our troubled times, as it was a century ago, hundreds and thousands of people are flocking to Serpukhov and praying for healing. The gifts of the Christians who were healed from this sickness, their children and other family members, with which the pedestal of the icon is covered, are more precious than all golden settings. Today pilgrims are spreading the healing oil from icon lamps of the wonderworking icon along with the water which is blessed during prayer services all over Russia.
Monasteries and convents from time immemorial were sources of that holy and mysterious peace, which every suffering Christian soul always sought after. Such was the Vladychny monastic community of the Entry of the Mother of God into the Temple in Serpukhov, which was founded in 1360 at the border of then the Principality of Moscow, at the confluence of the rivers Nara and Oka. The latter river was called “the belt of the Mother of God” because it separated and protected Holy Rus’ from the wild steppe, “amid a pine grove and mansion-like red wood.” From the first days of its existence the invisible streams of grace spread from here to all parts of Russia. Initially it was a monastery for men, established during the abbacy of Venerable Varlaam, a former assistant of the Holy Metropolitan Alexis of Moscow. It was also under the spiritual care of St. Sergius of Radonezh. The chronicles relate that the great Abbot of the Russian Land (that is, St. Sergius) came here at the beginning of winter 1374 together with his disciple, Venerable Athanasius, and prayed at the cathedral of Vladychny Monastery, built of white stone. The legend of the foundation of this monastery also mentions a miraculous apparition of the Most Pure Virgin to Venerable Varlaam: “The vision showed to the builder that even angels would help him in his labors of building the church and preserve the monastery, that the Queen of Heaven Herself would dwell in this church as She had been present in the Temple of Jerusalem.”
And several centuries later this promise was fully fulfilled.
https://preview.redd.it/pslfjrwjc61d1.png?width=700&format=png&auto=webp&s=759417630476ce25db6a52ba256aaff626a4360e
By the end of the eighteenth century Vladychny Monastery was declining and decaying. The services all but stopped, the scanty brethren dispersed, and the churches were falling into ruin. However, Metropolitan Platon (Levshin; 1737-1812) of Moscow, through whose efforts the spiritual prosperity of the great Optina and other monasteries began, did not forget Vladychny Monastery either—it was near this monastery that he had spent his childhood. The metropolitan obtained the permission of emperor Alexander I (1777-1825) to re-establish this monastic community as a nunnery and in 1806 first nuns came to live there. A quarter of a century later, another great archpastor, Holy Hierarch Philaret (Drozdov; 1782-1867) of Moscow introduced the strict ancient rules of desert community life into the convent. Thus he restored the spirit of monastic disdain for riches (“nestyazhanye” – “non-acquisitiveness” in Russian) and providentially prepared the convent to receive such a holy shrine as “The Inexhaustible Cup” Icon.
In the first year of the abbacy of Abbess Maria, namely in 1878, a peasant of the Tula province—a retired soldier who had a passion for alcohol for many years—in a vision saw a certain elder who commanded him to go to Serpukhov, to find the Icon “The Inexhaustible Cup” and to hold the a supplicatory prayer service before it. The old, penniless soldier, exhausted by his hard drinking, had absolutely no strength to go to Serpukhov. Soon the vision occurred again and the poor elderly soldier literally crawled to the convent on all fours. On the very first night of his ascetic journey the man suddenly felt that his legs began to obey him again.
Reaching the convent, he put its nuns to confusion as they knew nothing of the icon with this name. Then they remembered that an icon hung in one of the convent passages: on it the Infant Christ blesses the worshippers as if coming from a chalice for Communion; behind Him the Mother of God raises Her most pure hands—in the same manner as on icons of “The Sign”. Everybody was greatly amazed when they saw the inscription “The Inexhaustible Cup” on the back of the icon! Remarkably, when the man came up to the shrine of St. Varlaam, he at once recognized in him the holy elder who had appeared to him in the vision and commanded to go to the Mother of God for healing from alcoholism. The news of the wondrous miracle rapidly spread over many towns and villages: from everywhere those possessed with this terrible passion flocked to the miracle-working icon, venerated “The Inexhaustible Cup” and gave up drinking; thus peace and quiet began to reign in their homes—and all this was through the prayers of the Protectress of the mankind.
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The tradition of this miracle-working icon explains that, “The Inexhaustible Cup” is, according to the akathist, “the one who draws up joy from the source of immortality,” the source of consolation, healing, life and various spiritual gifts and happiness. And let everybody see the hidden spiritual meaning in the fact that “The Inexhaustible Cup” Icon became a source of saving hopes and cures from the wicked passion of alcoholism: the Mother of God is praying for every single sinner; She, the merciful one, knows the suffering of those who give themselves over to debauchery, knows how strong is the desire of many of them to rid themselves of this brutal vice, but cannot find strength to struggle. So the Most Pure Virgin reminds them through Her holy Icon “The Inexhaustible Cup” that She is the inexhaustible wellspring of grace and spiritual joy, that She pours out from Her ever-inexhaustible cup heavenly delight into their withered hearts; drinking of it, they will begin to hate that ruinous liquid which once invincibly attracted them to itself.
Such sufferers at any time and in every place should resort to the all-powerful intercession of the Most Pure Virgin, making it the rule to read the angelic salutation, “Theotokos Virgin, rejoice” at least three times a day. No matter how deeply rooted the cursed passion of drunkenness may be, it cannot withstand the gracious help of the Holy Theotokos.
Troparion tone 4:
Today we faithful come to the divine and miraculous Icon of the Most Holy Theotokos, who fills the faithful from the Inexhaustible Cup of her mercy and shows them great miracles; and we who have seen them and heard of them rejoice in our heart and cry out, with deep feeling and devotion: O all-merciful sovereign Lady, heal our ills and our passions by praying to thy Son, Christ our God, that He may save our souls! Amen.
Nadezhda Dmitrieva From the book, We Rejoice In Thee
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2024.05.17 23:40 Infamous-Method1035 I will be Charles…

I will be Charles is the story of a young man leaving his childhood behind and making his way to Basgiath. As I read the story I feels anemic, like I’ve left out too much, but it was never intended stand on its own, it’s mainly a character build for another chunk of story to come. Let me know what you think, be blunt and honest, but it’s my first fiction ever, so be gentle, like Tairn!
A time eighty years before the rebellion…
The headmaster said nothing as I gathered my bag and walked away, but his foreman, a large, solid, sharp man who’d spent the last four years alternating between driving me like a slave and teaching me to ride and fight and work hard and most of all how to be a man called out “remember your lessons boy, and make something of yourself. Nobody is coming to collect your body when you fail”. Other young men stood and stretched their backs as they watched me walk out the gate of the forced labor farm that called itself a boy’s school. Their expressions ranged from relief at the possibility that they too might escape this life to sad happiness as a couple of them waved their farewell. One week, I have one week to be there for conscription day. Then things change.
A fish from the stream and one ear of corn for a meal. That’s all I was willing to take from the field beside the road. I would have worked for it if I’d been able to find the owner. But time is short and I hadn’t eaten in two days. I could travel like this for years, working a little and seeing the land, but my mind is made up and my need for adventure and station is real. So I starve and I walk. Eating what I need, sleeping where I can. One goal pulls me along, the vision of living a life of my own choosing, of riding and fighting and being a part of something real… and the dragon, my own best friend and partner as we fly and fight and serve the king and the people of Navar. Not that they ever did a fucking thing for me. My loyalty is transactional, and my service is to the people, fuck the king.
“YOU THERE” a voice calls, not friendly but not angry enough to be the owner of the onions and potatoes I’d taken last night to make a soup of rabbit. The man pulls his horse to a stop ten feet away and looks down at me. “It’s a day in each direction to any town. Why are you here?” I look around completely confused, but know a noble’s ranger when I see one. “I’m walking to Basgiath, two more days that way, right?”. The ranger looks me over and sees no weapons but the hunting knife, just me and my large pack trudging along the road. “You may travel the road, and you may camp at the bridge you will reach by nightfall. You may take a rabbit and you may fish at the bridge. You will take nothing else. Agreed?”. I look up at him innocently, “thank you for the clarity Sir, I will camp at the bridge. I did take some potatoes yesterday, and an onion, for a stew.” The ranger grins and gives a little nod “what school?”. My shoulders drop a little, but I stand erect and answer truthfully “I am schooled at Piramin’s School for Boy’s, Sir”. The ranger laughs and shakes his head “NOBODY cares who you are boy. What man will you become? What school at Basgiath? I was infantry myself, for twenty years I wore the blue with pride, and last year I retired to become ranger of these lands”. I think about what he just said and almost change my mind, infantry was a safer choice after all, at least it wasn’t a lifetime commission, but my chin came up and my eyes locked on his, “Rider Quadrant, Sir”. The man grinned ear to ear and looked me over with a much keener eye, “you have it in you boy, arrive rested and strong, because once you’re inside they will try to kill you. It’s only the very strongest who survive that school, and even then, you’ll be flying a fucking dragon through the sky for years. Make your peace and bury your past. Nothing matters inside Basgiath except who you are that day.” He pauses for a moment and pulls something from his pack, “do me a favor, when you get there go to the Commander of the Infantry, his name is Wainright, and hand him this, tell him Eldric remembers him well. Then go get your dragon, ok?” The package is as long as my forearm, hard and heavy, and wrapped in a thick cloth. I put it into my pack securely and agree, “Commander Wainright, I will.” The ranger heads back the way he’d come, “good luck boy, study hard too but remember, it’s combat and dragons that keep the Riders alive.”
“Holy shit”, the words escaped before I knew it. As I topped the last ridge and got my first look at the face of my future my heart stopped and I stared for a full minute at the incredible thing that was Basgiath War College. If I’d known that view was so close I would have walked the extra hour last evening and camped atop the ridge. I’d been passing more buildings and houses, and a full on town lay nestled in the valley before the college. I estimated it would take all day to reach the gates, but maybe a good meal and a little extra sleep would serve tonight. I see no reason to be early on conscription day. Given the increasing number of wagons and travelers tomorrow would be a nightmare of long lines and military bullshit. I was used to it, and knew that the last guy in line had the same chance as the first, at least for tomorrow’s test.
Halfway through town I hear a familiar sound and turn off the road to a little band of shops one street over and sure enough, there sat a sturdy but pretty girl pedaling a sharpening wheel as she honed a short sword. A sweaty larger man, dark of skin and darker with the soot and iron dust on his face and arms came forward as I watched the girl, “new soldier eh? Have you a sword?”. I looked up and smiled at the man, “I’ll be a rider or a dead cadet soon, I was hoping to cross the parapet tomorrow with weapons of my own, since none are issued in the riders quadrant. I have no coin, but I brought trade if you’re interested”. The large man scowelled, “do you have any idea how many broke children stop at this very shop as a last chance before entering those gates? Hundreds, every year it’s the same. I have no money but here’s a chicken”. The girl giggled a bit but I simply waited politely for the man, after a moment he relented, “I see that you’ve grown up working. What have you to trade?”. That was my cue. I slipped my pack off and it made a heavy clunk as I set it down and began digging to the very bottom. The man went back inside to stoke a fire as I worked for his answer. Finally standing with a hatbox sized bundle I look the master weapon smith in the eyes and say “two things, actually three. I have enough Victik alloy to make a half dozen short swords, enough folded and fired stock to make two very nice longer swords, and last but not least, as my eyes shifted to the girl, four yards of pretty blue Berelli fabric, straight from the islands via Bravik last year. Lastly, I’m strong and offer my sweat and my back for the day. I could use the work and it looks like you could use a boy for a day. What I want in return is a few daggers, a short sword, and a good pair of boots”. The smith’s eyes, big with the revelation, pored over the metals, which were rare and valuable to the right smith, his daughter stood to see the fabric and both shared a look, then the man took the items and walked into his shop. “Get started” was the only answer.
Ten hours later the smith helped stack the last thousand pounds of ore. Heavy canvas bags full of slaggy sharp chunks of metal, that cut the arms and hands right through the bags. I wore the gloves, the smith did not. The girl still sat at her stone, honing infantry swords to perfection and selling dozens of them to young infantry prospects or their parents. Next door, the leather shop churned out boring but well made scabbards for swords and daggers as fast as the three ladies could go. As we finished a kind lady and her son rolled up with a large push cart full of cooked food and prepared meals on crockery plates. The smith called out to greet her and went to wash his hands. I followed and the girl finally got up from her wheel to pick out food for their dinner. The smith said, as we took turns at the luke warm bucket of day old water, washing our hands and arms, “you will eat with us tonight, and there’s a cot in the loft if you like. It’s better than you’ll find anywhere between here and Basgiath. You worked hard and well today. Thank you for being good help. Your new weapons are still tempering. We’ll take a look in the morning.”
Dinner had been wonderful, that older woman knew her craft and she knew what hungry working men and women wanted. Lots of energy laden greens, potatoes in a way he’d never had them before, and a large portion of meat with gravy. I didn’t ask what the meat was. It was fair size chunks, and dark. I think it was maybe goat or sheep, at any rate it was the best meal I’d had in years, and not a drip or a crumb went to waste.
I slept well and long that night, dreams of dragons and horses and hard work and the possibilities behind those gates. When I woke it was already daylight and I jumped from my cot to run downstairs. The smith laughed as I came down the ladder, “don’t worry boy, I’ve not pulled them out yet, and you have plenty of time to get there today.” I smiled huge, hoping for a couple of clean steel fighting daggers and a short sword, maybe a throwing knife if I’d earned it, but when the smith pulled the rack from the annealing oven my breath caught. There before me lay four standard daggers, two slightly longer knives with slightly curved blades and guards over the finger section that looked like a steel version of brass knuckles, a short sword with a heavy blade, and a longer sword, again, with a thick, heavy blade. I gawked as if I’d never seen fresh weapons before. The truth was that I’d been a forge monkey for a few weeks and I’d seen thousands of high production weapons roll out of the large sweat shop in Naisg where the bulk of standard issue weapons came from. But none of those looked anything like these works of art. “These are beautiful Sir, I’ve never seen high carbon black steel come out with a sheen like that.” The smith grinned, “you brought me the ore boy, surely you recognize your own hard work. This is what full hard steel looks like when alloyed with Viktik. This is a small fraction of what you brought me, and all of these are yours, if you can hone them and wait for the hilts to be finished next door. Should be ready in a few hours. Plenty of time to get to school this afternoon.” With the greatest smile I could manage I thanked him profusely and looked at the girl’s sharpening wheel, she stepped in front and mad herself scowl, “no no no. This one is mine and it’s for HONING, not sharpening. YOU start over there, and keep you grubby hands off my wheel!”
I laughed and got to work, quickly shaping and bringing the blades to the correct angle as the smith checked in over and over, “no, shallow is for slicing game. Make a combat blade with a thick blade, thick angle, and deadly sharp edge. Make it tough and make it sharp. Then take it to Mary and let HER hone it for you, she’s better at it and she won’t let you touch her wheel anyway.” Three hours later I delivered the blades to the leather smith next door and began to speak as the man shushed me, looking at the blades. “Rider eh? The smit did you right with these. You must be special. I know what to do, give me a couple of hours.”
Four hours later the smith and the leather smith and I stood between the shops admiring the weapons. The handles were all identically wrapped with fine leather and wire, the swords included lanyards to avoid dropping them from a flying dragon, and the two combat daggers were wrapped and bore the signet of the smith. The smith shook the leatherman’s hand and smiled, “you’ve done me proud. This boy work hard yesterday, so I paid him well. Now boy, you take these weapons up there and you make a man of yourself. And when someone asks you where you got the weapons, tell them!” The leatherman brought forth a brand new pair of boots and set them down, “now boy, listen. These are new and they’re excellent boots, but they will kill you today. The bottoms are slick and need wear. The tops are oily and stiff and uncomfortable until the oil steeps into the leather, and there is no way you’re walking the parapet in these. Tie them together around your neck, and wear them tomorrow. Season them daily for a week, then do nothing to them. Ok?” I admire my new boots and thank the man before running to the gates only an hour before the deadline for conscripts to enter the courtyard.
My pack was lighter, my weapons were fucking awesome, I was well fed and rested in spite of the busy morning. As I walked through the massive gates and into the place I would call home I looked around for the commander of the Infantry. It was my first mission, assigned by a retired soldier and apparently a friend of the Commander. I asked a half dozen people who looked like they should know and only got pointed to the line for Infantry. I dutifully walked to the head of the line and addressed the person standing behind the table, the one who seemed to be supervising more than working at the moment. “Excuse me but I have a message for the Commander of the Infantry, where can I find them?” The woman looked me over and obviously doubted I had anything worthwhile to tell anybody, but finally asked, “who are you and what is the message, the commander cannot be reached out here. She is busy inside, as you can imagine.” I stood tall while she spoke and nodded when she finished, “I’m not sure how private the message is, and I’m nobody. Inside you say. Fine, that’s where I’m headed.” She smiled and touched the man’s shoulder at the table, when he looked up she said “get this recruit’s name and send him inside to formation”, to me she grinned,”after formation there is a short reception for meeting each other. Find her then.” My smile fell a bit as I had to back her up a little, “I’m sorry no, I’m headed to the Rider Quadrant, I’ll have to deliver the message later I guess.” Her eyes were beautiful, but her smile disappeared as she wrote me off, “well you best get on with dying then, it’s a long day for all of us”
Six hours. Six fuckin hours watching everything from cocksure nobels to terrified children who had no business trying fall off the parapet. Finally I stepped into the shade of the turret, where the two cadets in snappy black leather sat taking the names of each recruit as they attempted to enter the Quadrant. “There is only one way forward”, said one of them to a trepid young man two places ahead of me. She pointed to the parapet, a narrow, smooth worn wall cap over two hundred feet above the river, “Riders walk that way”, she pointed to the long spiral staircase behind us, “or you’re a coward and can try to make it back down without getting shoved off the side. Either way hurry the fuck up, are you a Rider or not?” The boy determined that risking his life was better than the embarrassment of cowardice and set out along the narrow path. He didn’t even scream when he fell.
My turn at the table, “name?” The woman asked. It was a simple question, every recruit ever had been able to answer it. I hadn’t even considered the question and just looked at her literally dumbfounded. “Name” She repeated. “I, um, don’t have a name.” My answer was firm and confident, which only confused her more. Her partner looked up at me “give us your name, we don’t give a flying fuck what you’re running from, you’ll probably be dead in a couple of weeks anyway.” I just looked at her, my mind racing. I’d never needed a name before. ‘Boy’, or ‘hey’ had always been sufficient. I knew I’d have to have one, but honestly if I’d ever had a name it was lost long ago. “I will be Charles” I said, “I like Charles.” The man kept looking at me as if there was more, “Charles”, I repeated, and the man shrugged and told his partner in a mocking tone, “Sir Charles of one name stands ready to cross.” The two laughed as the woman pointed with a thumb, “good luck, cross the parapet and give your name on the other side and you will be Cadet… Charles.”
The least eventful part of the day, I looked at the parapet and on toward two children who seemed hell bent on falling off the thing. I shift my pack and walk out, it was breezy, but damn the thing was easily as wide as my shoulders, more or less flat on top and with rounded edges. I mumbled at the children ahead of me “it’s a fucking sidewalk, get up and walk.” As I reach the first of them, about halfway across, I reach down and grab his pack straps and haul him upright on the parapet, making sure his feet were set before I let go. His eyes met mine and I saw pure terror in them. “Hey, it’s a fucking sidewalk. Put your hands out and walk. Quit thinking about the ditch, walk on the sidewalk.” A full ten seconds passed before the kid got his wits and began moving again. We were only a few feet away from the other kid when they fell, the scream lasting longer than I’d expected as the body fell seemingly forever into the river below. I closed my eyes and said a short prayer to Malik before continuing, the boy in front of me nearing panic again, “hey, it’s another thirty feet, just look where you’re going and go there.”
I stepped off the little platform and gave my name when asked, and again the cadet seemed to want more than ‘Charles’. I looked at the pair of cadets and sighed a bit, “I have never had a name, I do not know if I ever had a name at all but they seemed to need one back there so ‘Charles’ is what you get. Just Charles. I have nothing else.” The cadets just looked at him and kind of rolled their shoulders, “well, Cadet Charles, welcome to the Riders Quadrant.”

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2024.05.17 20:32 CDown01 Eagles Peak Pt.2

Link to Previous Part
Somewhere around my head hitting the ground and that damn raccoon laughing hysterically at me, I drifted out of simple unconsciousness and into a memory. This particular memory was going to be unpleasant, I could tell that right away. It was part of the reason I left Wisconsin in the first place, that damn abandoned town of Imalone.
Something I’d always liked to do was explore, its one of the reasons I decided on somewhere like Eagles Peak in the first place when I left. It’s also the reason I ended up in Imalone. It was a new place to check out that had been left untouched for several years. As the story goes the town popped up around a gas station, the earliest any recorded records of the place include a date, is the 1940’s. For a while a church and bible camp garnered the interests of tourists and members of the church in Imalone but it wouldn’t last. One day the church closed its doors and so many of the towns residents packed up and left. Without the church and its bible camp what little revenue the place might have generated ceased to exist. After that, the town’s bones were left for nature to pick through. A few friends had relayed the story to me and I decided I just had to see it for myself. So I packed a bag one night, jumped in my car and headed out. That’s where this memory began.
I pulled off the old road embattled with undergrowth in my old Honda civic and stepped out into the night air. The town was faintly illuminated for some reason despite being abandoned years ago. The light flickering off into the otherwise pitch black forest was foreboding. For the first time that night a tiny part of me pulled back, away from the town.
“I’m sure there’s a reason as to why the power wasn’t cut. Maybe some homeless moved in or something, it was a town at one point and its not like anyones claiming this place.”
These thoughts did nothing to calm my nerves as I walked through the overgrowth and towards the town. In fact those thoughts inspired me to try and be as quite as possible.
“Just get in, see what there is to see and get out Keith.”
I was still really on edge as I came to the overgrown gas station that marked the beginning of the town and the end of the forest. Though, that border was a bit disputed as of late it would seem. A huge tree had grown in the middle of the wrecked gas station, bursting out of its windows and roof. Weeds grew up through the pavement and both old pumps lay on the ground, rusted and beaten. I walked into the decrepit gas station, searching for a way up onto the roof to see if I could find the source of the light in town. As I got inside I heard a rumble of thunder.
“Weird, the forecast didn’t call for any storms?”
I thought as lightning flashed through the sky. Briefly illuminating the room and showing me a path up the tree through the hole it bored in the roof. The flash from the lightning hung just a few seconds longer than I would’ve assumed and I swore I heard the very faint cry of a bird in the distance.
Up on the roof I dropped my bag and grabbed my binoculars. As soon as I focused them in on the town I saw a bedraggled man on a bicycle. Well, bicycle may not have been the right word as it was stationary and hooked up to a series of rusty gears. As I followed the path of rusted gears and cogs with my eyes it seemed to lead to a fallen silo. Inside this silo there was a turbine.
“They made some kind of rudimentary generator!” I exclaimed to myself, seeing the mess of wires sprouting from the far side of the collapsed silo. To call the setup ramshackle would’ve been a compliment. It looked like it was a light breeze from falling apart with all the corroded metal of the gears and turbine. I was far enough off that I couldn’t hear the contraption but I’m sure it sounded awful.
I turned my attention back to the man on the bicycle, paying more attention to what he was wearing. It was unusual to say the least. He was covered in bits of moss and dead branches all stuck to what looked to be a canvas tarp converted into some kind of robe. I couldn’t make out his face, but I imagined it would be marred with an unkempt beard, laden with bits of twigs and leaves. I put down the binoculars and put them back in my bag. Once again I felt like I shouldn’t be here, that I should just turn around and leave, but I still didn’t listen. Instead I climbed down from the roof, back into the gas station and started making my way into the town as quietly as I could. Thunder roared again as I crept through the overgrown town. This time when I heard it I was sure the flash of lighting that followed was accompanied by a distant bird’s piercing cry. It sounded like some kind of bird of prey. I shuddered but remained undeterred as I crept deeper into the town.
Eventually I came to a rotting building with half a wagon wheel attached above where its door used to be. My curiosity got the best of me and I decide to check out the building. Walking into what I could now see used to be some sort of bar, I was instantly hit with the distinct smell of mold.
“Maybe that’s why they left. Black mold has a way of clearing out the neighborhood, or so I hear” I mumbled to myself.
Bushes had sprouted up behind the bar and I thought the scene of nature taking over this building would make a good picture. I pulled out my phone and turned on the flash, as soon as the click sounded I dropped my phone. In the light of the flash I saw a figure nestled among the bushes. It was another man clothed in a similar way to the one I had seen on the bicycle. Only this time he was far closer to me and very aware of my presence. The man also wore a mask that looked like it may have been native american in origin. The mask was faded and scratched but obviously carved by an experienced hand. It resembled a bird with a large tuft of split feathers adorning the top of the mask. The man recoiled at the light of the flash at first but soon he was back on his feet. He said something as he stood but the mask muffled his voice to such a degree that I couldn’t make out a word. I jumped back screaming, it was all I could do to snatch my phone out of the air before it hit the ground as I turned and ran. As I burst back out of the building I found the street suddenly full of those ominously dressed men. I slid to a stop and looked behind me, finding my path blocked by the masked man from the bushes. I was weighing my options as thunder cracked again, louder than ever. Lightning followed with another bird like screech as loud as a train.
“SCREEEE!”
“SCREEEEET!”
“SCREEETH!”
“SKREIITH!”
“KIETH!”
“KEITH!”
I was shaken out of the memory and back into consciousness by Bianca. Shaking me from my position on the basement floor.
“Keith! Oh god! What the hell happened to you?! We found you thrashing around down here!”
Bianca screamed inches from my face, her eyes now undeniably glowing.
“There was a raccoon and, and…. It… talked” I strung together as I searched for an answer.
“You should have seen his face! He went as white as a sheet and fell like a bowling pin when I pulled the whole cat gag!” Cackled the raccoon in the corner as Bianca’s uncles stood over it glowering.
“Your eyes, They’re glowing!” I remarked, trying to change the subject.
“Yes of course they… oh damn it! I.. I’ll explain later Keith I guess you have to know now. You’ve seen enough in this basement alone to have questions. Here clean yourself up and meet us in the kitchen.”
Bianca tossed me a wet rag to try and clean the dust and sweat that had covered my face during my unconscious episode.
“And YOU Rocco, you’re going to stay here and we’re going to have a little chat about manners once I’ve cleared this mess up.”
She spit more than said, gesturing towards the raccoon who almost immediately stopped laughing and skulked off deeper into the basement.
Bianca and her uncles turned and went up the stairs leaving me alone. I washed my face off with the cloth as best I could and tried to come up with a strategy for the shit storm waiting for me upstairs. I had to come up with something believable for why I directly ignored their one rule, don’t go into the basement. Bianca had looked concerned more than angry. Had I said something while I was passed out reliving that memory? Do they all think I’m crazy now? Maybe I can use that, yeah plead insanity to them. They may send me off to a home, but If I told them I was remembering the time I got abducted by some crazy bird cultists it would definitely be the padded room for me. I pulled myself together and climbed the stairs opening the door into the last thing I would’ve expected.
Bianca was crying as her Uncles tried to comfort her. It was the first time I got a good look at her uncles. Both looked fairly old, I’d guess mid 60’s to early 70’s. One had a bald spot covering the top of his head and long har besides that with a mole on his right cheek. His face was weathered and a bit wrinkled with lines around his eyes that could only come from prolonged use of goggles. The other had a circle of hair on the top of his head but no more hair to speak of. This ones face was the mirror image of the other with the only difference being the mole on his cheek was on the opposite side. Their hair was really the only way to tell them apart.
“This one is all here at least, I’ve said before there’s a risk! You can’t just charm…”
Her uncle stopped suddenly as I walked into the room and Bianca suddenly looked up at me, Her tear stained eyes still shining an electric blue. I just couldn’t help but feel sorry for her.
“I’m soooo sorry, I never meant to end up down there but there was this meowing noise and it sounded like it came fro..”
“Stop, just stop its ok. I guess I should’ve figured you’d end up down there, Rocco likes to torment new people. But I’m sure you have questions about us.”
“Oh I sure do but we’ll start with your eyes, what’s going on there?”
This conversation lead into something I didn’t quite expect to hear, these people weren’t entirely human. There I said it, I still don’t quite believe it but Bianca’s “uncles” tried to explain it to me. Her uncles names were Frank (the one with the small hair circle) and Stein (the one with the reverse bowl cut) and they weren’t her uncles at all. They were researchers, but not for the government like she had claimed, at least not anymore. They researched the supernatural and the paranormal. Rocco was one of their more successful experiments and Bianca, well that’s a different story. Bianca is a succubus, an honest to god supernatural entity. According to Stein she can influence emotions and how people feel about her. That’s what I felt when I met her yesterday and I lost control. I didn’t lose myself, she simply took the reigns and steered me in the direction she wanted. Normally you couldn’t tell there was anything off about her aside from her stunningly good looks. But, when she got overly emotional or she was trying particularly hard to influence someone her eyes would start to glow that trademark blue. This whole time Bianca looked like a scolded puppy. She was embarrassed it seemed, though I couldn’t say if it was because she got caught or if she really felt that bad about what she had done.
After those three explained what they could in such a short time they offered to let me spend the night, or well, at least the rest of it. Frank showed me to my room on the second floor and I slipped into a dreamless sleep… for all of about an hour before I heard a knock at my door. Groggily, I stumbled to the door and snapped it open.
“What is!… oh hey Bianca.”
Bianca stood in my door, eyes no longer glowing, looking sullen.
“I wanted to apologize, I had no right I, I… it wasn’t right I should’ve given you a choice.”
“Please just, stop. Apology accepted, ok. Look I don’t even know if its me talking to you or you jerking me around again. I wan..”
“It is, I promise, I’m not doing anything to you right now, what you feel is just you.”
Binaca responded, eyes beginning to faintly glow, choking back tears.
“Oh geez I’m sorry, its just hard to know if its really me in there with your whole…. you know”
“Funnily enough that’s exactly the problem. Anyone who knows about me always stays away because they don’t know if I’m in their heads or not. There’s Frank and Stein but that’s about it, and that’s only because my powers have no effect on them for some reason. Maybe all that exposure to the supernatural all their lives gave them some kind of immunity?”
“That must be rough, I never really thought about that”
“Yeah I know, why would you.”
For some reason that last bit cut pretty deep. Could have been because of how she looked away when she said it. Like I was just yet another person who didn’t get it. To some extent she was right, I only found out about exactly what she was an hour or so before. But I still didn’t like the fact she seemed to be judging me for it.
“Anyways, what’s Imalone?”
Bianca asked, breaking the awkward silence. The question threw me off guard right away.
“What?! Where did you hear that?”
“When you were trashing around in the basement you said it a few times.”
I don’t know why, but I suddenly felt guilty as I tried to come up with something to say to dodge the question. Maybe I was just tired of trying to pretend nothing happened. That I’d moved halfway across the country to some little nowhere town for no particular reason. Maybe I just wanted to talk about it finally. Maybe I just couldn’t come up with anything convincing to say. I think, what it really was though, was the fact that no-one had been genuine with each other since this whole thing at Bianca’s house started. I never spoke up about the fact I felt something was off, Bianca manipulated me into thinking I wanted to help her, and Frank and Stein just kind of tried to stay out of the whole thing. I had to at least try and show some honesty, which is why I decided to tell Bianca about Imalone.
“Imalone is the reason I’m out here in the first place. Something happened there that really shook me up, I couldn’t stay there anymore.”
“Stay where?”
“Wisconsin, where I’m from. I’m sure I don’t sound like I’m from around here, not that you cared to ask before.” A little bit of the venom from her comment earlier seeping into my own voice.
“But I’m sure you don’t want to hear that whole story tonight…. Or this morning? What Time is it anyways?”
“Late enough that I don’t really want to go to sleep. Besides, now I want to hear this story.”
To her credit Bianca didn’t fall asleep during my story. I’m sure she had to be tired cause there’s no way she slept before this given her earlier state, but she stayed up to listen. She didn’t try to tell me I was crazy. Which is exactly how I expected someone to act hearing about Imalone. When we got to the point in the story where she had shaken me out of the memory earlier I stopped.
“There’s more isn’t there?”
“Yeah its just… hard to relive is all. Maybe it doesn’t sound all that awful now but in the moment I thought I was going to die in that little ghost town.”
Then she did something I didn’t expect. She reached out and grabbed my hand and I immediately felt calmer. The feelings of fear washing away leaving nothing in their wake.
“What are you doing?”
“Don’t worry about it just finish your story, its easier now right?”
Whatever it was she was doing she was certainly right, the fear of no-one believing me was gone and I found I was able to keep going.
"SCREEEE!” The screaming birds call resounded in my ears. So loud and unexpected that I briefly forgot I was surrounded by these strange canvas wrapped men. As I came back to my senses The one in the bird mask placed a gnarled hand on my shoulder and muttered something unintelligible. I pulled away but his grip was strong and he pushed me to the ground. The rest descended on me cackling and cheering to one another, all in words I couldn’t make out. Rain began to fall, thick and heavy as thunder rolled once more right on top of us. As the men picked me up I gazed into the sky to see something in the clouds illuminated by a flash of lightning.
The thing in the sky looked like a bird of prey, its form translucent against the dark and stormy heavens, only visible by the distortions it left around itself as it circled. Looking back down, I could see the men carrying me to the area I had seen from the top of the gas station. The bicycle sat deserted, though the lines of lights illuminating the town square still flickered, being blown around in the steadily quickening wind. What I hadn’t seen from the gas station roof was the device these people had built in the bones of an old house. The things purpose was clear, to restrain. It was constructed of wood multicolored by rot or the fact that it had originally been part of a building. Four shackles sat at the corners of the structure, each made of a different source of leather or metal. One was simply an old dog collar according to the tag hanging off of it that simply read “spot”.
The men carried me toward the structure that was giving me splinters just by looking at it. Once they arrived there they strapped me into the thing, each of my limbs splayed out in the cardinal directions as the storm raged around us. The rain tore like sandpaper at my skin as the one in the bird mask stood up on the wooden stage next to me. He “spoke” to the others, twelve by my count, in more of this gibberish language they spoke. Whatever he was on about the crowd seemed to be going wild until he held his hands up and they split down the center. I was thrashing around as best I could in my bindings this whole time. Trying to find some give in the ramshackle structure so that I might have a hope at freedom when I noticed what they had split for.
The bird from before had started to come in for a landing and it seemed huge. The beast looked to be about 10 feet tall with a wingspan almost four times that. As it flew closer to the ground lightning struck a house to my right, instantly showering us in wooden shrapnel and setting it alight. In the firelight I could finally behold the bird making its final approach to land. As the black mist surrounding it billowed away it became less translucent and more visible. I could make out Its scaly clawed talons that could’ve shredded a car, and its muscular legs that could’ve picked up that same car and thrown it with enough force to crush a building. Its head resembled an eagle and its deep blue feathers glittered in the rain, firelight, and lightning that crackled off of it and its steely grey pointed beak shown like a great and terrible razor. Once its talons had touched the ground it began to skink and warp, ultimately folding in on itself to reveal a woman, tattooed and naked as the day she was born. She had a hard angular face that demanded respect with nothing more than a glare. My eyes wandered over her body, tracing the lines of the numerous black tattoos that covered her. They were all tribal in nature, involving various wings and talons the came together in an eagle wreathed in lighting on her back. The tattoo resembled the creature she’d just been. She spoke to the masked man in a language that I immediately recognized as Algonquian from a class I took back in college. I still didn’t understand a lick of it but I had at least heard the language before.
The masked man responded with his gibberish which the woman seemed to understand. The man was visibly shaken by her and so was I. This lady radiated pure power and the air was electric. If the fact that she was naked wasn’t enough for me to try and turn my head from her bashfully, the aura she gave off was enough to make me do it out of fear. The woman finally turned to me and spoke,
“You should be honored little trespasser” Cooed the woman, grabbing my head in her hand and turning it up and toward her. With this closer look I could see her steel grey hair that whipped in the wind and her cracking white eyes that seemed to be little storms of their own.
“I’ve decided to spare you this once. Leave this place and forget.”
“And then I woke up back in my car the next day” I said to Bianca as she let go of my hand.
“Are you sure that’s all that happened?”
“Yeah, that was it. Then I started losing it with stress, always thinking I’d stumble into one of those places again. I decided it was time for a change and I moved here to get away from that feeling of being watched I had back home.”
Something about the way Bianca looked at me after I said that told me she didn’t quite buy it. I told her goodnight and rushed her out of my doorway where we had been talking after that. She was right to doubt me though, that last part was a lie. The woman had more to say to me and she certainly hadn’t mentioned anything about sparing me. Despite the calming effect Bianca had brought over me I couldn’t quite bring myself to put that last part of the story into words, at least not out loud.
The woman had told me the men brought me as a sacrifice to her, that the masked man had sought to be her “chosen” whatever that meant. Then she told me all I had to do to be free was allow her to pass a burden onto me. She would deal with these misguided men and I could go home. I’ll admit my decision was cowardly but I was scared for my life. As soon as she gave me an alternative to death I took it. The smile she cracked told me my decision was a mistake. She placed a hand on my back and white hot pain shot through my nerves. I couldn’t see but I could hear the screams. Screams that were cutoff with the brush of feathers against my cheek and the thunderous flap of wings. Thunder roared and lightning cracked, I could hear nothing but the cataclysmic storm that woman had apparently caused. Then as suddenly as it began it stopped.
I awoke the next morning in the middle of Imalone’s town square, it had been leveled and ash was strewn all around me. My clothes were singed but they would have to do on the walk back to the car. The further I walked from the town square the more the town looked as though nothing had happened last night. The ground wasn’t even wet by the time I made it back to my car, like the storm had been centered on the town square and that place alone. When I got home and went to shower I found a black mark seared into my back where the woman had touched me. The mark was a bird covered in lightning and mist, not unlike the woman’s own tattoo on the center of her back.
As that memory crept through my head another thing weighed on my conscious, see I haven’t been entirely honest with you either, whoever it may be seeing this. I didn’t leave Wisconsin just out of fear, no the dreams pushed me here as well. The dreams of storms and shrieks, the dreams of that woman speaking to me in a language I couldn’t understand, The dreams of this town.
It wasn’t random chance that I stumbled upon Eagles Peak. I had looked for places that resembled the flashes of images in my dreams. Ending up deciding that this place must be the town I’d seen. It’s also the reason Bianca’s house stuck out to me when I arrived. It may have been odd to see in this town but I’d also seen it in my dreams. When I came into town and finally went to sleep in my new house it was the first night I hadn’t dreamt in a long time. I’d done something right, or maybe wrong, who’s to say. But something about this town calmed my head, something about this town was connected to that night in Imalone. Whatever it was I intended to find out what. The only issue is I have no idea where to start.

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2024.05.17 17:40 TheMaskedOne2807 The Plague Doctor Chapter 71 (Learning Something New)

Other stories by TheMaskedOne2807: The Oil Chapter 1 (Getting Back)
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“You are the most stupid idiot that has ever lived!!! As dumb as the shit, you crap out your mouth!!! Pilu yelled, shaking Kenneth by his collar.
“Are you done? Kenneth asked as he smacked her hands off him. “Because I’ve got more important things to do today than listen to you huff and puff.”
About to yell even louder, Pilu stopped as Kica walked in between them, staring at the dead Nok Inside the back room. Its greyish-white scaly chest was completely exposed; however, its lower region and its face were covered by cloth.
“Do you really want to open up a Nok and have me look inside?” Kica asked.
“Well, I had a feeling that everyone would probably fall asleep if I just talked all day long, me included, Kenneth replied. “So I thought it would be best to kill two birds with one stone.
“Giving you and Aloko a better understanding of the body and its internal workings while keeping you on your feet.”
“I guess that makes sense, Kica agreed, seeming slightly conflicted. “But even so, it’s a Nok. The only thing I think it and I have in common is the color of our blood.”
Crossing his arms, Kenneth turned his head toward the Nok.“Regardless of species, all have to follow a certain set of biological rules ingrained in their very essence, or as my people call it, DNA.”
Tilting her head in complete confusion, Kica repeated some of the words she didn’t understand. “Bi-logi-shel…? De-En-A…?”
Seeing her expression of utter confusion, Kenneth scratched the back of his head. “How to explain it…? Well, take you and me for instance. Both of us have a circulatory system and a heart that pumps blood through it.
“The only difference is that while you have two, I only have one, and the same is true for our lungs. You only have one, but I have two. Now, I’m not saying we look completely the same on the inside.
“Our organs do vary in shape and size as opposed to only numbers. However, they do serve the same purpose and perform the same tasks regardless. It's pretty much what I mean by biological and DNA.”
“More shit coming out of your mouth, Pilu angrily growled as she walked into the back room. “Thanks to you, I have to clean blood off my dagger now.”
“If you are going to open that mouth, could you tell me why Aloko isn’t here? Kenneth replied. “Doesn’t he usually arrive on his own, or is he escorted by you?”
Looking at the cadaver with indifference, Pilu reached for her dagger. “The commander's orders were for us to protect the healer before and during your boring talks. Aloko was responsible for getting here on his ow--”
Suddenly, Pilu jumped back, slamming her raised tail and back into the wall as she pointed her shaking dagger at the dead Nok.
With his hand resting on his sword hilt, one of the guys accompanying Pilu asked. “What---?”
“The heretic! It isn’t dead!” Pilu shouted.
Moving their gaze to the dead Nok, both of the guys tilted their heads in confusion as they whispered to one another. “You don’t think she’s been inflicted with madness after the battle?”
“Don’t be dumb; she just got spooked and is too proud to admit it.”
“What are you two idiots talking about!” Pilu demanded as the heretic’s arm suddenly fell off the table, its fingers twitching.
Before anything more could happen, Pilu let out a battle cry and leaped toward the heretic, plunging her dagger into its heart.
With wide eyes, everyone stood in shock at the scene before them. All except Kenneth, who let out a sigh of annoyance as he walked into the room. “Thank you, Pilu, you’ve just stabbed a corpse.”
Tracking each and every one of his movements as he made his way over to the other side of the heretic, Pilu furiously yelled. “Why did you bring a living heretic inside these walls!”
“Trust me, that one was dead, Kenneth calmly replied as he inspected the stab wound. “You know, I chose this one specifically because it had barely any wounds on it.”
Growling, Pilu opened her mouth to yell as loud as possible at Kenenth; however, her momentum was cut short when, out of the corner of her eye, she saw the heretic’s head move.
To everyone’s collective shock, the cloth on the heretic’s head started to move, falling down around its neck as its long, fang-filled maw suddenly opened wide.
“It still isn’t dead!” Pilu exclaimed, shocked beyond belief, as she pulled her dagger out of the heretic, ready to plunge it down over and over again until it was truly dead.
Before she managed to, Kenneth caught her arm with his right hand and held it in place. “Calm down, would you! There is no need for that!”
“You filthy traitor!” Pilu yelled as she reached for her other dagger and swiped it at him.
Quickly letting go of his bag, Kenneth crossed his arms and caught her wrist. “Okay, why don’t we just relax for a second? First of all, I’m no traitor, and second, this Nok is definitely dead.”
“Vola!!! Nohys!!! Help me!!! Kill the black healer!!!” Pilu yelled while violently struggling to get free.
Hesitating for one moment, both glanced at one another as they drew their swords and sprinted toward the room. However, their moment of hesitation allowed Kica to reach the doorway before them and block it.
Coming to a complete and sudden halt, both almost tripped over each other, trying not to crash into Kica.
“Step aside, healer!” Vola yelled.
“We have to kill the heretic and traitor!” Nohys added.
Determined not to let that happen, Kica stabbed all of her claws into the surrounding wood. “If you want to kill Kenneth, you’ll have to cut me down first!”
“Have you been inflicted with madness?!” Both of them yelled as they threw down their swords and tried to push her out of the way.
At the same time, Kenneth was still restraining Pilu, trying to explain himself. “Would you calm down already! It’s dead! Just look at the wound! There’s barely any blood!”
“You can’t trick me traitor!” Pilu growled, struggling with far more ferocity than before.
It was impossible to reason with someone as thick-headed as Pilu, so he had to resort to other measures. Yanking on her arms, Kenneth pulled her forward, and as she stumbled, he pushed her away.
With what little time he had, Kenneth grabbed the cloth around the Dead Nok’s neck and ripped it off.
However, just as he did, Pilu threw one of her daggers, hitting his head and making him drop the cloth.
“Ow! Kenneth yelped in pain as he pointed to the dead Nok. “Hey, you psycho! Take a gander and tell me how it could have survived all night with a wound like that!”
Glancing for but a moment, Pilu’s gaze slowly became affixed on the dead Nok’s throat and the broken speartip in it. “How…? But it made…?”
“I can answer any question you’d like, Kenneth offered, ”But first, would you please just calm the fuck down.”
Looking shocked and confused while continuing to stare at the wound, Pilu surprisingly stopped attacking him.
However, it was too soon for him to relax as Kica amazingly was still blocking the doorway despite how strongly Nohys and Vola were pushing up against her.
Feeling a surge of anger, Kenneth walked up right behind her and, with a strong push, sent both of his open palms directly into their chest, knocking them to the ground.
Panting, Kica staggered a bit as she pulled her claws out of the wood. “Thank you. I didn’t know how long I’d last."
“You could have gotten hurt, you know, Kenneth replied, crossing his arms. “Despite how much I dislike it, I am able to handle myself when push comes to shove.”
Turning around to face him, Kica replied. “I just… I knew they weren’t going to hurt me. As much as a scratch on me and the commander would have their heads.”
“Tell me, Pilu loudly said, her gaze still affixed on the dead Nok’s throat. “You said you could answer my questions, so tell me what vile dark heretic magic would allow them to move after death.”
“None whatsoever, Kenneth matter-of-factly replied as he turned around to face her. “I did say I’d answer any question, but I think it would be a bit difficult if those two you came with were still trying to kill me.”
Turning to glare at Kenneth, Pilu deliberately pushed past him as she walked over to the door. “Vola! Nuhys! Stop being dumb and put away your swords, or I’m telling the commander you tried to attack the healer!”
As they got back on their feet, both followed her command, sheathing their swords. With that matter handled, Pilu spun around, glaring expectantly at Kenneth.
“Kica, you might also want to listen to this, Kenneth recommended. “What just happened wasn’t some magical event; it was the old-fashioned stiffness of death and some involuntary muscle twitching.”
“What’s that even supposed to mean?! Pilu angrily snapped. “Don’t keep crapping out of your mouth and speak like the rest of us, not these made-up words!”
“Very well, Kenneth replied. “After you die, the muscles or the hard-to-chew meat, if you like, starts to stiffen, similar to when you flex your body. It happens gradually decently soon after death and persists for some time until the body… well, becomes too tired to do so and relaxes.
“Which is what we experienced when the jaw suddenly opened. Although I don’t know when this one died it did seem rather soon compared to normal. It might just be to it being a different species or some factor I’m not aware--”
“So the heretic’s flesh just became hard, and after some time, it became soft, Pilu interrupted, sounding irritated. “Then how did it move its fingers.”
Putting his pondering on the back burner, Kenneth cleared his throat. “To explain that, I first need to know if you remember an explanation to a question Aloko asked about the body, how it moves and performs actions?”
“Hmph… why would I listen to anything you say?” Pilu replied, glancing to her side.
Seeming deep in thought Kica raised her head, “Was it something like the mind holds sway over the body?”
“Not my exact words, but you're right, Kenneth replied with a thumbs up. “You see, the mind sends and receives signals throughout the body telling it what to do and learns if something may be wrong.
“An example of this would be if Pilu and Vola stood at opposite ends of the outpost and you needed to communicate with each other using Nuhys to deliver orders and information. Now, are we all caught up?”
Slowly, Pilu’s tail flicked from side to side. “Just shit out your mouth and tell me already.”
“That twitching is simply one of those messages between you and Vola, Kenneth explained. “While this Nok is dead, certain parts of its body aren’t fully yet, which, since rigor mortise is wearing off, allows the message to go through.”
Growling, Pilu walked right passed Kenneth and sat down in her usual spot.
‘Hm… either she’s understood that and was satisfied, or she doesn’t care anymore. Either way, she’s quiet,’ Kenneth thought as Vola and Nyhus joined Pilu.
“So…. um, how can a body not be fully dead if it is dead?” Kica asked, sounding as uncertain as she looked confused.
“I can get into that once I begin, but I’d like Aloko to be here as well, Kenneth replied as he walked over to his bag and picked it up along with the cloth he dropped earlier. “Do any of you know where he might be?”
“I-I think he’s doing his work, Kica responded. “It should be in one of the corners down by the rear wall.”
Walking over to the dead Nok, Kenneth closed its mouth and gently placed the cloth over its head. “I’ll be right back then.”

***
Meanwhile, as the caravan of wagons came to a halt, Kovoto knew they’d finally arrived at the guild. Teetering with excitement, he couldn’t stop himself from dancing around inside the confined space.
‘Finally! Finally! I’ve made it back!’ Kovoto thought as he grabbed the dry and squishy clump of pla-stic off the table. ‘I know you alone will clear this pesky little debt I’ve accrued. When those old fools see this little thing, they’ll probably beg me to join the higher ranks.
‘Once that happens, I’ll be free from their overbearing rules, and I can invent and experiment as much as I want.’
Suddenly, the door flung open, filling the wagon with light. Caught off guard and mid-spin, Kovoto lost his balance and fell onto the wooden floor.
“I see you are as elegant as ever, The person standing outside the wagon dressed in the same attire as Kovoto said, sounding rather amused. “Am I to assume you have completed your assigned task, or have you just been inflicted with madness after fearfully hiding inside the wagon for your entire journey?”
Recognizing who the voice belonged to, Kovoto discreetly hid the clump of pla-stic in his pocket and checked his other one to see if the small wooden box he carried was still safe and secure.
Feeling at ease knowing it was still hidden from prying eyes, Kovoto got back up and smugly replied. “I was simply celebrating my safe return, Shivi. Being attacked twice by roaming heretics and treading lightly at those brutish outposts has a way of making one appreciate the safety of the walls.”
“I still don’t understand why you’d even agree to do something like this. Shivi questioned as he stepped into the wagon, holding a piece of paper and a freshly inked quill. “How often isn’t the one sent by the guild killed by heretics?”
“That’s where you and I differ, Kovoto replied with a shrug. “I’m not willing to wait for a chance to be given as an act of generosity by one of the higher ranks. I’d much rather obtain it at my liking.”
Walking passed him, Shivi looked through all of the specimens he’d collected, noting each one down on the piece of paper in his hand. “Perhaps you are one in a thousand, or Qtika may have protected you.”
“Why not both,” Kovoto replied with a hand in each pocket as his tail swayed lazily from side to side.
Opening the last wooden box, Shivi inspected its contents and noted it on his paper. Turning around, he gestured for Kovoto to follow him out of the wagon. “Scholar Marashi and the other higher ranks are currently in the discussion room, but I was told to bring you to them as soon as you returned.”
Reacquainted with the familiarity of the stone-paved ground, Kovoto followed Shivi, excitingly thinking. ‘I can’t wait to see those old fools' faces and tails when I show them something they’d never seen before.’
On their way inside, both of them passed by members of the guild who handed the merchant a hefty sum of coins for his troubles and, from what Kovoto discreetly spotted, a little more.
Disinterested and wise enough to stay out of such matters, Kovoto looked the other way until he entered the guild.
Inside, the building was brimming with members, most of whom only had a tin or lead ring tied to their heads using tufts of fur. They were immersed in various studies, surrounded by scrolls and stacks of books as they prepared for their upcoming evaluation and chance to rise in the ranks and gain another more pristine ring.
A select few who weren’t stuffing themselves with knowledge like a glutton were of a much higher rank with bronze and silver rings.
They immersed themselves in conversation as opposed to books, discussing ideas and experiments with those of equal rank while their assistants were at their beck and call.
To his right, he could see the usual large crowd in front of the request board, each one racing to write down all of the new requests near the bottom before anyone else even had a chance to look it over, much less answer the question.
However, something peculiar at the very top of the board piqued his interest. “Shivi, are my eyes playing tricks on me, or are there actually new requests at the top of the board?”
“Tsk…! If only Shivi sniggered. “They were removed, and there was an uproar among the members. Some celebrated others demanding to know the answer that had been accepted. It had gotten so out of hand that Scholar Marashi had to calm the situation and explain the paper was simply so old it had to be replaced.”
“Hehe… good, Kovoto laughed. “I would have been very angry if someone managed to trick a royal household before I figured out the answer and claim the reward.”
“I see your travels with the merchant haven’t changed you much, Shivi replied. “Wiser men, then you have tried to figure out those questions for centuries now. What makes you think you can figure out why the sky’s blue and convince a royal family your answer is correct?”
“Just wait and see,” Kovoto nonchalantly replied as both reached and entered the discussion room.
Instantly, his eyes fell on scholar Marashi, a silver-furred old man dressed in a robe with his hood pulled back, exposing the vast number of rings all over his head made from the most precious metals.
He, along with four other high-ranking members, each with a few rings of their own, were sitting around a table in the middle of a discussion, or more accurately, an intellectual shouting match.
They were so enthralled in proving themselves right and everyone else wrong that all of them only took notice of Shivi when he handed scholar Marashi the piece of paper in his hand.
Quieting down, scholar Marashi took the paper and began carefully studying its contents, absentmindedly dismissing Shivi with a wave of his hand.
After a bit of time, scholar Marashi raised his head and, in a calm, slow, and almost meek-sounding voice, addressed Kovoto. “Come closer, young men; my tired eyes are not as young as yours.”
Obliging his request, Kovoto could barely wait to reveal the pla-stic in his pocket and ascend to the higher ranks.
“Is this close enough, esteemed scholar Marashi?” Kovoto respectfully asked while wondering what would be the best way to accept his promotion without making them think he was too eager.
Squinting his eyes and turning both of his ears toward him, scholar Marashi looked Kovoto over for a moment. “Hmm… Welcome back to the capital, young man. I see you suffered no wounds on your travels with the merchant… and you collected the specimens we’ve asked of you.”
“Yes, some of them were rather hard to find on my travels, and attacks from heretics certainly didn’t make it any easier, but despite all, I’ve collected each specimen as per the contract,” Kovoto boastfully replied.
“Hm… the young do seem to have luck on their side, but in these times, they seem to lack wit, scholar Marashi replied, sliding the piece of paper to his side for the other high-ranking members to see. “Many of the specimens you brought back seem to have diminished in freshness.
“As per the terms of the contract invoked in the goddess Qutika’s name, any specimens that are collected but brought back unusable will not be deducted from the debt that is owed the guild. Having looked over the list and keeping the dangers of this task in mind, I deem it adequate that three-fifths of your debt is paid back.
“The remaining debt you’ll have to work off, but given your accomplishment of this highly valued task, I doubt it will take much more than five years with the many offers you’ll receive from other members of the guild asking for an assistant.”
Slightly annoyed, Kovoto pushed his anger to the side for now.“If I may, regarding the contract, I’d like to talk about the part regarding new discoveries.”
Scholar Marashi looked at Kovoto for a moment before slowly getting up from the table. “Jibi! It's such a long walk. Would you go upstairs and find the young man’s contract.”
Looking a bit surprised and annoyed, the high-ranking member with five bronze rings underneath his jaw got up while the others sniggered.
Almost as quickly as he left the room, he returned, placing the contract in front of scholar Marashi, who proceeded to take a close look at it. “Yes, I see. Any discovery of specimens not on the list can be counted toward deducting your debt, or if you have none, be exchanged for coins as long as it becomes guild property.”
“As I’m sure you figured out, high-ranking members of the guild, I have something to show you, Kovoto gleefully replied with a wide smile as he walked over and placed the clump of pla-stic in front of scholar Marashi. “I have named it pla-stic, and it is one of a kind.”
Looking intrigued, all of the high-ranking members carefully yet eagerly studied the clump poking and prodding it, one even ripping a piece off and rolling it between his fingers.
Looking thoughtful, scholar Marashi eventually swatted the member's hands away. “Pla-stic, now this is something I have never seen before or heard any mention of. It is soft but also feels a strange kind of firm. Tell me where did you come across such a unique thing?”
Feeling superior, Kovoto graciously replied to scholar Marashi's question. “I did not come across it. Through hard work, dedication, and a willingness to try the most obscene things one could imagine, I managed to create… PLA-STIC!”
“Hmm… impressive young man, Scholar Marashi praised. “It has been a long time since any member has made something new and so special. Abiding by the contract, this… pla-stic and the method to creating it will belong to the guild, and in exchange, your current debt will be deducted by one-fourth.”
“EH…! Kovoto rather loudly exclaimed in shock as his smile quickly faded. “ONE-FOURTH! You just said it was special! Why only so little of my debt!”
“You better remember who you are in front of!” The pink and violet-furred high-ranking member beside scholar Marashi interjected.
Caught off guard by his own outburst, Kovoto quickly bit his tongue as scholar Marashi spoke once again. “Young man, this… pla-stic is special, but I do not know its worth and can therefore not probably appraise its value.
“If there’s something more you’d like to tell all of the members here right now about pla-stic that could prove its usefulness beyond its apparent value, that could change.”
Falling silent, Kovoto tried to think of anything he could say. ‘How can it be used?! By Akina, how can it be used?! Think, what did that… what was his name…?! URG! I can’t remember! The black healer, what did he say? My imagination sets those limits.’
‘That vague…! NO! I can’t waste years being an assistant for those idiots who don’t know what they are doing!’
Having waited for long enough, scholar Marashi eventually spoke. “I see. Do rest assured, young man, the guild and all of its great minds will figure out any and all secrets as well as uses for the pla-stic in due time. On behalf of the guild, I thank you for your contributio--”
“Wait! Kovoto interjected as he reached into his pocket. “I may not have had enough time before coming back to the capital to figure out the many secrets of my pla-stic, but it was not the only thing I managed to create.”
Pulling out a small wooden box from his pocket, Kovoto placed it on the table and opened the lid. Just as before, all of the high-ranking members went to get a closer look, curious and excited to see what else the young man had to show them.
However, as scholar Marashi looked inside his expression of excitement and intrigue turned to shock as he stammered. “Wh-where… did you get this?”
There wasn’t any going back now, and he knew it, so Kovoto had to sell it for all it was worth. “I’ve named it black liquid, and unlike the pla-stic, I had a bit more time figuring out its secrets. To begin with, it is able to devou---”
“I asked you where you got this from!” Scholar Marashi interrupted, his voice not that of the frail old man but a veteran of intellectual shouting matches.
Growing a slight bit timid, Kovoto faked a smile and replied. “Esteemed scholar Marashi, as I told you, the black liquid is another crea--”
“OUT! Everyone out…! except you!” scholar Marashi yelled, slamming his hand on the table and closing the lid to the wooden box.
Shocked at the sudden outburst, all of the high-ranking members quickly followed his order to leave the room.
“Young man, I won’t ask again,” scholar Marashi warned as he got up from the table and walked over to Kovoto with his tail raised.
Surprised the old man was still able to get it standing, Kovoto simply replied, “Esteemed scholar Marashi, I’m telling you the truth. I was the one who crea---”
“You listen here, you son of a whore! Scholar Marashi snarled. “I can have you banished, and you’ll have to sell that body of yours on the street to pay the guild back if you don’t tell me the truth!”
Swallowing his fear, Kovoto knew the old man was serious; however, if the truth had to come out, it would be to his benefit. “Fine, I’ll tell you the truth. I’ll even tell you everything I know from my research about the black liquid, but in exchange, I want my debt completely gone and to be promoted.”
Poking his claw into Kovoto’s throat, scholar Marashi yelled.“You think you are in any position to barter with me?!”
His eyes were fearful yet filled with determination as he replied. “Scholar Marashi, I will not waste years of my life working under fools who think they are better than me anymore. Either you promote me and erase my debt, or I leave.”
Snarling, scholar Marashi bared his teeth for a moment before pulling back his claw.
Reaching underneath his jaw, scholar Marashi removed one of his bronze rings and handed it to Kovoto. “You are hereby promoted from assistant to inventor, and your debt is erased; on this, I swear on the blood of Heka. Now tell me everything!”
Clutching the bronze ring in his hand, Kovoto recounted everything that had happened regarding the black liquid on his travels.
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2024.05.17 15:26 duddlered Grimoires & Gunsmoke: Operation Tolkien Ch. 56

Knight Captain Shaw barked orders at his men like a rabid dog. His voice was hoarse and edged with panic as exhaustion gnawed at his already frayed mind. His body became heavy, and his thoughts became a haze of fatigue, but he continued to push his men and himself relentlessly throughout the night.
"Pick up the damned pace!" he roared, his spittle flying. “I’ll flog any ye fucks that think to dally!”
That foul Dark Elf had said they'd have an entire day to rest, but Shaw wasn’t going to trust the word of some knife-eared prick that gobbled down a bigwig Noble’s dick as far as he could the devious bastard. However, his men were weary and weren’t keen on complying. Shaw could understand the sentiment, but they didn’t know what he knew. They haven’t experienced the backstabbing nature and the insidious double-speak that came with upper society.
He hand to make them comply through any means necessary, even if it meant taking a head or two.
Shaw's eyes darted nervously between the men scurrying around and the eastern night sky, searching for any sign of that damned dragon. The sudden appearance and subsequent disappearance had left him unnerved. Usually, something that big and that old was accompanied by entire cities being put to the torch just to make a point, and the fact that Shaw’s Lord was executed and labeled as a traitor didn’t bode well. The feathered bitch wasn’t fucking around, and she was out for blood.
"But Capt'n Shaw, the Dark Elf, said we had an entire day to rest," a young, newly anointed knight ventured. His voice was barely above a whisper, heavy with the unspoken fear they all felt.
"Are ye an imbecile, lad!?" Shaw snapped, grabbing the man by the collar of his shirt and yanking him closer. "Do ye trust a snake with yer neck!?" He jabbed a calloused finger at the knight's chest, spraying him with spittle. "That dark-skinned bastard will sell us out the moment it suits him! We march NOW, or that piece of shite will label us as traitors as well and have that damned monster breathing fire upon us before dawn!”
Shaw released the young knight with a final shove, sending him stumbling backward. Paranoia flickered in the Knight Captain’s eyes as his hand twitched toward the hilt of his sword, itching for the comfort of solid steel in a world gone mad. Every rustle of leaves, every distant animal cry, sent shivers down his spine, and his gaze darted back to the horizon with a desperate intensity.
"MOVE!" he bellowed, his voice cracking with strain. "We cannot afford to linger here another moment! Get those wagons loaded and those supplies packed! We must be gone before dawn breaks!"
The men and women of the camp scrambled to obey, and as Shaw watched them, his jaw set, his body thrumming with restless energy. This was no longer simply a means to collect tribute and supply the war effort – it was a desperate flight for survival.
He cast a glance over his shoulder, half-expecting that Dark Elf and his shadows to be watching them with their dark eyes gleaming with cold amusement. To Shaw’s relief, the bastard and his minions were nowhere to be seen. But after seeing just how long it was taking for their departure to take shape, an uneasy feeling formed in the pit of his stomach.
Wagons were being overloaded with barrels of grain, crates of hardy fruits and vegetables, and cages of squawking chickens. Larger, bulkier beasts like the lean, razor-fanged worgs used as war mounts were being prepped by riders, and the plump, docile, shaggy horned beasts that were bred for burden – were not even ready. The first light of the morning was coming soon, and they were nowhere near ready for departure.
"By the Emperor's balls..." Shaw swore under his breath. At this rate, they'd be lucky to move more than a kilometer before the afternoon. Fury surged through him like a wildfire. This was no army, no fighting unit – it was a disorganized mob.
With a snarl, he stomped towards a group of soldiers struggling to hoist a massive crate of chickens, clucking away, onto the back of a groaning wagon. "Leave it!" The Knight Captain barked, his voice a whipcrack across the hushed camp. "Leave all of it! Gods damn it all!"
The soldiers stopped, their eyes wide with shock. "B-But Captain," one stammered, "The Count–."
"The Counts DEAD ya fool!!" Shaw roared, kicking the crate. It slid with a thud, spilling its precious contents across the dirt. "We're leaving this wrong shit behind if we want to see another sunrise!"
And just as those words left the good Knight Captain’s mouth, dawn's first rays painted the eastern horizon, causing his face to fall. They were nowhere near ready. Yet, even as panic began to gnaw at him, a screeching cry pierced the air as a chorus of shrieks echoed from the skies.
Shaw spun around, his heart pounding in horror, thinking it was a dragon, but instead, a flock of wyverns graced his vision. Dozens upon dozens of the smaller Dragon-like beings soared across the skies, their leathery wings blotting out the rising sun. It was a sight both awe-inspiring and terrifying. It was a reminder of the monstrous power the Count held as a breeder.
A surge of relief crashed over Shaw. The messages had reached Count’s Wyvernic nesting grounds, and the message he'd sent just after that damned dark elf played his bloody theatrical games made it. One Wyvern and its rider and a woman donning a dark gambeson reinforced by chain mail assessed the situation below before descending for a landing.
"Finally!" He breathed, a flicker of hope rekindling in his chest as he walked towards the woman and saw she had steel hair with the weathered face of a seasoned rider.
Grabbing her blade staff, the woman dismounted and casted a quick protection spell as her Wyvern snarled and snapped at a few workers who had gotten to close. "Captain Shaw, I take it?" she said warily, peering around the camp to spot any sign of deception. "I'm Commander Eira, of the Barbed Talon. We received the Lord Harmswid’s message… What in all the Abyss is going on?"
Shaw swallowed, trying to keep the desperation from seeping into his tone. "A change of plans, Commander. The Duchess," he lowered his voice, "has decided to… consolidate our Lord’s forces…"
Eira frowned, her eyes narrowing as she surveyed the camp before pulling off her riding cap, exposing her pointed ears, and eyed Shaw in disbelief. “And our Lord… agreed? To this?” She replied incredulously, her hand tightening around her staff.
Shaw hesitated, a thousand half-truths and evasions flashing through his mind. The reality they just experienced was so convoluted, so insane, that it would likely sound like the ramblings of a lunatic. Yet, lying to one like Commander Eira's gaze, with an entire wing of Wyverns, seemed an even worse idea than telling the truth.
He took a deep breath, steeling himself. "No, Commander," he admitted, his voice surprisingly steady. "The Count is... dead. Executed. By the Duchess' hand."
"Executed!? Over what!?" Eira recoiled in surprise as the grip on her blade staff loosened ever so slightly.
"Treason," Shaw said, the word heavy on his tongue. "That dark elf, Tharivol, accused Lord Harmswid of defiance in the Duchess and took his head…."
A storm brewed in Elira’s silver eyes as her expression darkened. Her wyvern, sensing the shift in her mood, let out a low, menacing growl, its eyes flickering with a fire mirroring its rider's anger. The air around them seemed to chill, and the morning's light did little to dispel the growing tension.
"Treason?" she echoed, her voice sharp as the blade of her staff. "And you let this happen? You didn't think to stop them?"
Shaw flinched under her gaze, the weight of his decisions—and their consequences—bearing down on him. "We couldn't," he protested, his voice strained. "They had a dragon! An elder, or perhaps even an ancient one! It was unlike anything I ever did see! We wouldn't even been able to make the monster sneeze, let alone stop ‘em!!"
The fire in Eira’s Wyvern’s mouth started to billow with a raise of her hand as her frustration reached a boiling point. "So, you chose to let the murderer of our Lord walk away unscathed and seize his Wyverns under false pretenses!?" Her tone was icy, and each word stabbed at the Knight Captain like a dagger.
As the wyvern crept closer with its jaw parting slightly letting Shaw see the vortex of flame building within its maw, the knight captain backed away with fear in his eyes. “W-What could I have done against such a monster!?” He pleaded with a voice cracking with strain. “Even with yer entire wing, we all woulda been done in! We gone do nothin’ but annoy it!”
Eira sneered dismissively, flicking her hand in a quick gesture that caused her Wyvern to calm down. "Bah!" she exclaimed in frustration. She hated it, but she knew this coward had a point. Fighting even a senior dragon, let alone a young, teenage dragon, would have been suicide for this lot.
With the Wyvern glaring menacingly at the Knight Captain, Eira's eyes narrowed as she surveyed the ragtag group of soldiers and mages. Her mind started to race through scenarios, each one ending in disaster if they were to face such a beast head-on. "Feel grateful that I show you mercy, plebian," she finally said, her voice laced with disdain before turning around and rubbing the snout of her Wyvern.
“It’s okay, precious… I’ll feed you something more delicious than a dickless coward…” Eira cooed and soothed her bestial companion and scratched under its chin. “I don’t even know what Count Harmswid was thinking when giving a lowly knave like him hereditary peerage.”
The knight captain gritted his teeth at the insult as Eira let out a derisive sigh. Without another word, the wing commander turned and mounted her Wyvern before looking down at her so-called counterpart with a contemptuous look in her eyes. Shaw, despite his anger and frustration, couldn't meet her gaze, feeling the sting of her shaming.
With a harrumph that echoed throughout camp, Eira squeezed her thighs against the wyvern's flanks. The language of pressure was all the creature needed, recognizing its rider's keen desire to take flight. In response, the beast’s mighty wings beat the air, and a whirlwind of power kicked up dust and debris. The force of the takeoff was a visceral thrill, propelling Eira and her mount skyward, leaving awestruck faces below.
As they ascended, the wyvern flock fell into formation behind their leader forming a disciplined wedge, cleaving through the air. They flew eastward, bound for Aldenshore, the rising sun painting long shadows across the land.
Looking around him, The knight captain worse an expression that told of humiliation. The man clenched his fist as his eyes darted across each face, accusing them of also mocking him before violently swinging his arm to the side and barking orders. “WHAT THE HELL ARE YE ALL LOOKIN’ AT!? GET BACK TO WORK!!” In his anger, the knight captain’s hand went to his sword.
“WE’RE LEAVIN’ IN AN HOUR!” With a final bellow, Shaw stormed back towards his tent, obscenities trailing behind him. His men, startled into action, scurried about, the camp abuzz with renewed purpose.
Meanwhile, still hidden in the foliage with their eyes trained on the chaotic scene, Coleman and his ODA team exchanged glances.
"That's a lotta lizards," Bennett whispered with awe evident in his voice.
"Yaaaa," Lister drawled, "All headed east, following that big-ass bitch."
Coleman's brows furrowed, a contemplative hum escaping his lips. "I think this camp is getting ready to move too."
"Whatcha think they're running from?" Bennett asked, turning to Coleman and lifting his eyebrow. “Us?”
Offering a simple shrug in reply, Coleman pressed his face back into his specialized surveillance equipment. "Who knows? Maybe they got spooked by the rangers when they raided." He paused, a predatory glint in his eyes. "Regardless, we're gonna be hitting this place once they piss off."
Elijah watched the retreating wyverns, his gaze focused on the lead rider. "That shiny one riding on the flyer… she's a problem," he muttered, his voice laced with a hint of menace. "Got the feel of someone actually competent."
Coleman nodded slowly, his own gaze fixed on the departing figures. "This the main reason why I want to wait till their long gone. They’re already unloading livestock and what I think is vegetables.” He looked over to Elijah as he spoke. “We can slip in, grab what we need, and bug out before anyone knows we’re there.”
“Ehhh…. I’d still like to snatch one of them up,” Elijah replied, rubbing the back of his neck and wearing a complicated expression. “There’s a mass exodus heading east, and any information we can get our hands on would be worth its weight in gold." He finished before ripping a piece of jerky in half and sharing it with his patron, who was happily munching away on his shoulder.
A deep breath of air left Coleman’s mouth as he sat back and thought for a moment. “I don’t know… There’s a lot of the bastards in there.” His gaze turned to Kwon, the team’s sergeant, in the hopes that he might have some kind of tactical insight. “Any ideas?”
Folding his arms and looking up at the sky, Kwon let out a contemplative groan and crossed his arms. “Well… I have a few ideas…" he drawled. "Why don't we turn this into a three-pronged attack? We've got those Poles further up the road to the east.” Kwon’s head gestured towards one of two dirt roads leading into the place.“ and the Aussies are somewhat near us, right?"
"We could coordinate an ambush," Kwon continued. "The Poles brought heavier gear with ‘em and could cause some serious ruckus in the middle of that convoy.” He said, standing up and grabbing a stick.
Kwon then started drawing a line in the dirt to represent the convey and then drew an arrow interdiction its midsection. “They can Get 'em good and riled up, draw the majority attention away from us while we and the Aussies hit the rear, nabbing anything and anyone worth taking."
Coleman stroked his chin thoughtfully. "The Commandos would buy us time... and if we just focus on just snatching shit, the rest of the convoy wouldn’t even realize the tail was getting shwacked." He added, nodding thoughtfully. "I like it."
"Ya, not bad," Elijah joined in with a wolfish grin, "It's the kind of chaos that just... feels right, y'know?"
“Didn’t we bring mortars? We could just start dropping shit on them while the Poles rough them up.” Bennett chimed in.
A thought hum left Coleman’s voice as he wore a face that said he was deliberating on parting with something precious. "Ya, however..." he started with a cautious note in his voice, "We don't exactly have that many rounds, so we should only use those them for a special occasion."
Elijah cocked his head, munching on his bit of jerky. "Sure, but... isn’t this pretty much a special occasion? If we're gonna use 'em, this is the scenario for it."
Kwon nodded in agreement. "The two goons got a point. Dropping a few surprises in the middle of their convoy while the Poles stir up trouble would pretty much ensure our success.” He added while kicking his makeshift battle plan to break it up. “It’s apparent they don’t know how to deal with indirect fire yet, so we should take advantage of it while we can."
Coleman sighed dreadfully as he hung his head and capitulated to his men. The idea of raining a bit of death and destruction definitely held an undeniable appeal, especially with the fact that it would significantly reduce the chance of casualties. He needed to stop being a miser and use what they had to its fullest extent. "Alright, we’ll use the mortars,” he declared, standing up, “We’ll zero for a predesignated spot where the Commandos will engage them, drop a shit load of mortars, and scare the hell outta 'em.”
“However…” The team leader murmured as he still felt like there were some glaring flaws in the plan. “These shitheads still use magic to augment their physical abilities, so it's still gonna get dicey… Any idea on how to subdue one of them?” Coleman asked, looking around.
The team fell into a heavy silence, with each member becoming lost in their own thoughts. They had always engaged the enemy from a distance or at least had enough space between them to riddle each prospective warrior with bullets. The question of subduing someone, especially those using magic to enhance themselves, seemed incredibly unwise. Everyone exchanged uncertain looks and collectively shrugged as they acknowledged their lack of a solid plan for non-lethal engagement.
A heavy silence descended upon the team as everyone looked at each other with eyes the kind laden with uncertainty. They'd always fought these magic users with the buffer of distance. But close up? That was a another question they weren’t too keen on finding out.
Ever the one to think outside the box, Elijah hummed in interest. "Hey, Yana,” he called out tapping the bag of beef jerky that had her little legs sticking out of it. “Do you have any way to drop some dude without, ya know, turning them into crispy a critter?" he asked as her legs kicked angrily at the sudden smack.
Suddenly her legs sunk into the bag and her tuny head popped out, narrowing her eyes at her insufferable human. “Haahhhh!?!?” An irritated and confused look clouded the little fairy’s face, clearly taken aback by the question.
“Why would I do something so nonsensical and stupid as that!?” she retorted, her tone dripping with disdain. “And why are you so insolent all of the time!?”
Unfazed by Yana's outburst, Elijah met her annoyed gaze with a mischievous and calculating look that flashed across his face for a moment. "Oh, if you can't do it, then don't worry about it," he said, his voice dripping with a challenge that insinuated the task was out of her capabilities. He continued, adding fuel to the fire, "If it's beyond your means, then don't worry about it. We'll figure something out."
Yana stared at him blankly for a few moment. She couldn’t believe the words that left her apostle’s mouth wand was clearly unable to process what was just said. The very implication that something might be beyond her capabilities was not just an affront to her pride, but an insult that couldn’t be left unasnwered. Then, suddenly, her hair billowed like a raging flame, a physical manifestation of her indignation.
Her reaction was instantaneous and intense. In a blur of motion that caught everyone off guard, she zipped out of the bag of jerky and grabbed a fist full of Elijah's long hair, yanking on it as she brought her face close to his, her eyes ablaze with a fiery fury. "What do you mean by 'can't' and 'beyond my means'!? I am a goddess!" she yelled, her voice a mix of anger and wounded pride. “You insolent little man! You idiot! You dummy!”
Elijah couldn’t help but wince at the deceptively powerful tug. His tactic of provoking Yana into action had worked a little too well. “Ow, ow, ow! Yana, chill!” He yelped as she pulled harder, growling at him. “I’m sorry! Relax! I believe you’re capable of anything!”
“Hmph!” Yana harrumphed as she released her human. "Well, of course I am!" She huffed, crossing her arms and spinning around in annoyance. “The mere fact you questioned my ability is not only unacceptable! But rude! Rude, rude, rude, rude, rude!”
As everyone stared at the two as if they lost their minds, Elijah rubbed his head where Yana had yanked his hair, wincing slightly from the unexpected fierceness of her grip. "God damn..." he muttered under his breath, but a grin still formed on his face. She had taken the bait, but now he had to see if he could reel her in.
Looking up at the tiny goddess, who was now floating with an air of indignation, Elijah decided to shift gears and aimed to appease her wounded pride. "Well, I just never seen you in action, you know? Maybe you could give your favorite human a demonstration of how magnificent you can be?" His tone was a mix of genuine curiosity and a dash of flattery, hoping to smooth over the ruffled feathers. “Maybe stretch your arms out and test the new strength you’ve been gaining?”
Still hovering with her arms crossed, Yana paused at the request. Her anger momentarily gave way to intrigue. The idea of showcasing her abilities, particularly after having them doubted, was an appealing opportunity to reassert her divine prowess, especially since she had taken a small slice of power from the few souls she had helped pass. Her expression softened slightly, and the flames in her hair dimmed as she considered Elijah's proposal.
"A demonstration, you say?" Yana mused, her voice losing some of its earlier sharpness. "I suppose it wouldn't hurt to remind you mortals of the extent of my power.”
Elijah gave a cheeky grin to the rest of his team, who just stared at him as if he were a madman. “We just need you to make the person I point out squeal in pain while we tie ‘em up.”

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2024.05.17 08:11 Sweet-Count2557 Best Things to Do in Salamanca Ny

Best Things to Do in Salamanca Ny
Best Things to Do in Salamanca Ny Attention, fellow adventurers!We've discovered the ultimate guide to the best things to do in Salamanca, NY. Brace yourselves for an unforgettable journey through this charming city nestled in Western New York.From outdoor thrills in Allegany State Park to cultural wonders at the Seneca Allegany Casino and Seneca-Iroquois National Museum, prepare to be amazed.Nature lovers, rejoice! There are stunning parks and trails for fishing, boating, hiking, and wildlife spotting.And for a unique educational experience, don't miss Mager Mountain Alpacas.Get ready, because Salamanca is calling!Key TakeawaysAllegany State Park offers a variety of outdoor activities such as biking, boating, swimming, fishing, and winter sports.Salamanca Mall Antiques is a popular destination for antique shopping with over 15 stores filled with unique items.Seneca Allegany Casino offers a thrilling gaming experience with a wide selection of slot machines and table games.The Seneca-Iroquois National Museum provides an educational and immersive experience to learn about the history, culture, and traditions of the Seneca and Iroquois people.Discover the Natural Beauty of Allegany State ParkLet's explore the natural beauty of Allegany State Park and immerse ourselves in its breathtaking landscapes and outdoor activities. Located in Salamanca, NY, this park offers a wilderness playground for those seeking adventure and freedom. With its 64,800 acres of forest landscape, Allegany State Park is a haven for nature lovers and outdoor enthusiasts.There are so many things to do in Salamanca NY, and Allegany State Park is a must-visit destination. The park is operated by the New York State Office of Parks, Recreation, and Historic Preservation, ensuring that visitors have access to well-maintained facilities and a range of activities. Whether you enjoy biking, boating, fishing, or simply relaxing on the sandy beach, Allegany State Park has something for everyone.The park boasts 5 miles of paved bike paths, perfect for exploring the stunning scenery at your own pace. You can also rent boats and bikes to further enhance your experience. If you're in the mood for a swim, the park offers a sandy beach where you can cool off on a hot summer day.For those who prefer land-based activities, Allegany State Park has plenty to offer. From fishing to snowmobiling, walking to cross-country skiing, softball to tennis, and horseshoes to volleyball, there's no shortage of options to keep you entertained and active.As you explore the natural beauty of Allegany State Park, you'll be captivated by its serene atmosphere and breathtaking landscapes. From the towering trees to the tranquil lakes, this park is a true oasis of freedom and tranquility.Uncover Hidden Treasures at Salamanca Mall AntiquesWhen it comes to uncovering hidden treasures, Salamanca Mall Antiques is a must-visit destination.With over 1,000 dealers and a 31,000 square feet building, this antique mall offers a wide variety of unique finds.From vintage furniture to collectibles and vintage clothing, this downtown spot is a haven for souvenir shopping and a treasure trove waiting to be explored.Unique Antique FindsWe absolutely love exploring the Salamanca Mall Antiques and uncovering hidden treasures.The Salamanca Mall Antiques, established in 1982, is a must-visit destination for antique enthusiasts. With over 1,000 dealers and a massive 31,000 square feet building, this place is a treasure trove of unique finds.As we wander through the 15 stores, we're captivated by the wide variety of antiques on display. From vintage furniture to rare collectibles, there's something for everyone here.The atmosphere is inviting and the staff is knowledgeable and friendly. It's a great downtown spot for souvenir shopping, where you can find one-of-a-kind pieces that tell a story.Wide Variety of TreasuresOur favorite part about exploring Salamanca Mall Antiques is uncovering the wide variety of treasures on display. As we wander through the 31,000 square feet building, we're greeted by over 1,000 dealers offering an eclectic mix of unique antiques.From vintage clothing to antique furniture, there's something for every collector or enthusiast. The mall is a great downtown spot for souvenir shopping, with over 15 stores filled with fascinating antiques waiting to be discovered. Each booth is like a mini treasure trove, filled with hidden gems just waiting to be found.Whether you're searching for vintage jewelry, antique books, or retro home decor, Salamanca Mall Antiques is the perfect place to indulge in the freedom of exploration and uncover some truly remarkable finds.Souvenir Shopping HavenLet's explore the souvenir shopping haven at Salamanca Mall Antiques and uncover hidden treasures. Located in the heart of downtown Salamanca, this unique antique mall has been a favorite destination for collectors and souvenir hunters since 1982.With over 1,000 dealers and a sprawling 31,000 square feet building, Salamanca Mall Antiques offers a wide variety of fascinating antiques to discover.As you step inside, you'll be greeted by the charm and character of the mall. The air is filled with the scent of aged wood and history.Wander through the aisles and explore over 15 stores, each filled with their own collection of hidden gems. From vintage jewelry and clothing to antique furniture and collectibles, there's something for everyone's taste and budget.Whether you're searching for a unique gift or a special memento of your visit to Salamanca, this antique mall is the perfect place to find it.Explore the shelves, browse through the displays, and let your curiosity guide you to uncovering those hidden treasures. With its wide selection and welcoming atmosphere, Salamanca Mall Antiques truly is a souvenir shopping haven.Try Your Luck at Seneca Allegany CasinoThe Seneca Allegany Casino offers a wide array of gaming options for those looking to try their luck. Here's what you can expect when you step foot into this vibrant casino:Slot Machines: Get ready for an adrenaline rush as you explore the almost 2,000 new and fascinating slot machines. Whether you prefer classic games or the latest video slots, there's something for everyone here. Feel the excitement build as you spin the reels in hopes of landing a big win.Table Games: If you're a fan of traditional casino games, you're in luck. The Seneca Allegany Casino offers 33 exhilarating table games, including blackjack, roulette, and poker. Put your skills to the test as you strategize your way to victory against the dealer or other players.At the Seneca Allegany Casino, the possibilities are endless. With a variety of gaming options to choose from, you'll be entertained for hours on end. And when you need a break from the action, you can indulge in a delicious meal at the Thunder Mountain Buffet, offering a wide selection of mouthwatering dishes.So why wait? Head over to the Seneca Allegany Casino and let the games begin. After all, you never know when fortune may smile upon you.And if you're ready to immerse yourself in Seneca-Iroquois culture, the next stop on your Salamanca adventure is the Seneca Iroquois National Museum.Immerse Yourself in Seneca-Iroquois Culture at the National MuseumWe can explore the rich history and traditions of the Seneca-Iroquois people at the National Museum. This museum is dedicated to the preservation and promotion of the history and culture of the Seneca and Iroquois people. It showcases traditional crafts, art, and artifacts, providing an educational and eye-opening experience.To give you a glimpse of what you can expect at the National Museum, here is a table highlighting some of the exhibits and programs:Exhibit/ProgramDescriptionTraditional CraftsExplore the intricate craftsmanship of the Seneca-Iroquois people, including beadwork and pottery.Art and ArtifactsMarvel at the collection of paintings, sculptures, and historical artifacts that tell the story of the Seneca-Iroquois people.Educational WorkshopsEngage in hands-on activities and workshops that teach traditional skills and customs.Immersing yourself in the Seneca-Iroquois culture at the National Museum is a truly enlightening experience. You'll gain a deeper understanding of their history, language, music, drama, literature, arts expressions, and traditional customs. The museum's extensive collection of historical and cultural items provides a fascinating insight into the rich heritage of the Seneca and Iroquois people.As we exit the National Museum, we can transition into finding serenity at Our Lady of Peace Catholic Church, where we can explore the stunning architecture and attend Sunday mass for a moment of solemnity.Find Serenity at Our Lady of Peace Catholic ChurchAs we continue our exploration of the best things to do in Salamanca NY, let's now find serenity at Our Lady of Peace Catholic Church.This beautiful church isn't only a place of worship but also a testament to architectural beauty and design. Inside, you'll be captivated by the stunning paintings and designs that adorn the walls, while outside, the church's architecture stands as a testament to the faith and dedication of the community.Led by Reverend Patrick Melfi, attending Sunday mass at Our Lady of Peace Catholic Church is an opportunity to find solace and peace in a serene and sacred space.Architectural Beauty and DesignLocated in Salamanca, NY, Our Lady of Peace Catholic Church offers visitors the opportunity to find serenity amidst its beautiful architectural beauty and design. Step inside this stunning church and be captivated by its exquisite paintings and intricate designs.As you explore the interior, you'll be greeted by the serene atmosphere that permeates the space. The church's architectural details, from the soaring ceilings to the ornate stained glass windows, create a sense of awe and wonder.Outside, the church's facade is equally impressive, with its impressive stonework and intricate carvings. Whether you're a devout Catholic or simply appreciate the beauty of religious architecture, a visit to Our Lady of Peace Catholic Church is sure to leave you feeling inspired and uplifted.Reverend Patrick Melfi's LeadershipLet's experience the leadership of Reverend Patrick Melfi at Our Lady of Peace Catholic Church and find serenity in its beautiful surroundings. Reverend Patrick Melfi, the head of the church, provides guidance and inspiration to the parishioners. His leadership fosters a sense of community and spiritual growth within the church. The church building itself is a sight to behold, featuring stunning paintings and designs that create a serene atmosphere. As you attend Sunday mass, you can immerse yourself in a moment of solemnity and reflection. The architecture of the church is also worth exploring, with its intricate details and peaceful ambiance. Reverend Patrick Melfi's leadership at Our Lady of Peace Catholic Church offers a place of tranquility and a chance to connect with your spirituality.Reverend Patrick Melfi's LeadershipFosters a sense of community and spiritual growthStunning paintings and designs in the church buildingSunday mass for a moment of solemnityExperience Horseback Riding at The CrosspatchWe can experience horseback riding at The Crosspatch, a working horse ranch nestled in the Allegheny Mountains. Here, we can immerse ourselves in the freedom and beauty of horseback riding, surrounded by stunning views and nature's serenity.The Crosspatch offers a range of activities and services that cater to our desire for adventure and exploration:Trail rides: We can embark on guided trail rides through the picturesque mountains, winding through lush forests and open meadows. As we ride, we can feel the gentle sway of the horse beneath us, connecting with nature in a unique and exhilarating way.Horsemanship Camp: For those who want to deepen their understanding of horses and improve their riding skills, The Crosspatch offers Horsemanship Camp. Through hands-on instruction and interactive activities, we can learn about horse care, grooming, and riding techniques. This immersive experience allows us to forge a deeper bond with these majestic animals.Wagon and carriage rides: If we prefer a more leisurely pace, we can opt for wagon or carriage rides. These charming and nostalgic experiences take us back in time as we leisurely explore the scenic surroundings. It's a perfect way to relax and enjoy the beauty of the Allegheny Mountains.At The Crosspatch, we can escape the confines of everyday life and embrace the freedom of horseback riding. Whether we're beginners seeking a new adventure or experienced riders looking to connect with nature, this working horse ranch offers an unforgettable experience. So saddle up, breathe in the fresh mountain air, and let the rhythm of hoofbeats carry us away on a journey of freedom and discovery.Frequently Asked QuestionsWhat Is the History Behind the Establishment of Allegany State Park?The history behind the establishment of Allegany State Park is fascinating. On July 30, 1921, the park was created on a vast 64,800-acre forest landscape. It's operated by the New York State Office of Parks, Recreation, and Historic Preservation.Allegany State Park is known as the wilderness playground of Western New York. With activities like fishing, biking, swimming, and more, it offers a perfect escape to nature and a chance to explore the beauty of the great outdoors.How Many Dealers Are Currently Present at Salamanca Mall Antiques?There are currently over 1,000 dealers at Salamanca Mall Antiques. It's an exciting place to explore with its wide variety of unique antiques.The downtown location makes it a great spot for souvenir shopping. As you walk through the 15 stores, you'll find fascinating items that will surely catch your attention.Whether you're a collector or just enjoy browsing, Salamanca Mall Antiques offers a treasure trove of discoveries.What Are the Dining Options Available at Seneca Allegany Casino?There are several dining options available at Seneca Allegany Casino. The Thunder Mountain Buffet is a popular choice, offering a wide variety of delicious dishes. Whether you're in the mood for a hearty meal or a quick snack, the casino has you covered.From casual dining to fine dining experiences, there's something for everyone. So, after trying your luck at the casino, make sure to indulge in a satisfying meal at one of their fantastic restaurants.Who Is the Head of Our Lady of Peace Catholic Church?The head of Our Lady of Peace Catholic Church is Reverend Patrick Melfi.He leads the parish center, which was established in Salamanca, NY in 2014.When visiting Salamanca, make sure to attend Sunday mass at this beautiful church.You'll be able to experience a moment of solemnity and admire the stunning paintings and designs that adorn the building.The architecture of the church is truly breathtaking.What Other Services Does the Crosspatch Offer Besides Horseback Riding?The Crosspatch, besides offering horseback riding with stunning views, also provides a range of other horse-related services.For example, they offer wagon and carriage rides, allowing visitors to explore the beautiful Allegheny Mountains in a unique and nostalgic way.Additionally, they offer a Horsemanship Camp, where individuals can learn more about horsemanship skills and develop a deeper connection with these magnificent animals.These additional services at The Crosspatch provide even more opportunities for an unforgettable experience in Salamanca, NY.ConclusionIn conclusion, Salamanca, NY offers a wide range of attractions and activities that cater to every interest. Whether you're a nature enthusiast, a history buff, or a thrill-seeker, this charming city has something for you.For example, imagine hiking through the scenic trails of Allegany State Park and stumbling upon a breathtaking waterfall. The beauty of nature combined with the rich cultural experiences in Salamanca will leave you with unforgettable memories.So pack your bags and embark on an exciting journey to explore the best of Salamanca, NY!
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2024.05.16 15:43 Effective_Artist2381 Don’t Buy Tom Cruz Section 8 Course!!! He made almost $100k in 1.5 hours!!!

Hi,
Have you attended Tom Cruz Section 8 real estate course webinar??
I did! Literally last night. I was one of the lucky few whom decided to take it all in and NOT jump and purchase and spend $5500!!!
Ok, so I have attended a few online seminars and realized at the end of the day they are all making money selling their courses. You are probably thinking I’m crazy. The pudding is on the numbers. I knew I was NOT going to purchase a “class” but decided to listen, learn and take it all in.
What these people have in common is that they are excellent sales people!!!
It was such an interesting thing to see. He showed his fancy cars in the background which some people thought was a green screen and he touched to prove it was real. Touching fancy vehicles was alone good enough for people to just truly believe him. I couldn’t believe it!!!!
These people are excellent quick sales people. I mean the live webinar was about 1.5 hours and the man made almost $100,000!!!
Tom Cruz said from early on he only wanted 15 students which they needed to spend $2,997 each for the course. He then introduced his software where you would see how you would access the section 8 properties. Purchasing this would only cost you an additional $2,500 but only to be purchased if you purchased the course there or the cost would double!!!
So at the end of the day people whomever attended this webinar which he holds off all the time and purchased are spending almost $5,500 each. I did the numbers!!! He is engaging in the chat and say 1 joined, now 2 and 3 and so forth! Then into the 1.5 hours he gets 15 people to join and buy the $2,997 course. Most also buy the software for $2,500. The cost of the software is such a bargain because it normally normally cost $5k!!!!
People were asking, can I just buy the software? He said multiple times NO, you have to be a student , hence spend almost $3k then spend $2500 for the software he build from scratch giving you access to the section 8 properties in the US.
I could not believe what I was seeing. People saying they were broke and couldn’t afford it. Then a couple said I just got the money from friends or relatives to take the course!!! Then some realized the software was not included but that was necessary to have.
At the end of the day 15 students spend $2,997 for the 8-week course plus some of them bought the software $2,500 each, although some people mentioned on the chat they forgot include the software which they must have. He said the course cost will include him personally guiding them to help and not be pushed to an assistant to help. He also said no worries I will let you but the software at the discounted $2,500 price!!!
He then at the end decided to include people who could not afford shelling out $5500. He said I have 2 spots for $598 a month. People jumped in but some realized it was a 12 month commitment which totaled $6,999!!! Anywho? Unfortunately 2 people jumped on the bang wagon and will be indebted for $6999 for the 8-week course and software purchase.
What did I learn?? This guy is an excellent salesperson and made almost $100k in 1.5 hours!!! To be exact, he made $96,453 how?
He sold 15 online courses at $2,997 each. I have the screen shots to prove this. Then he sold the software which is kinda mandatory to have at $2,500 each!!! Plus the 2 individuals whom indebted themselves at $598 a month for 12 months!!!
People!!! If it looks too good to be true it probably is!!!
I found so many people saying online complaining that his class was definitely NOT worth the money they spent and were duped and couldn’t get their money back . Nobody mentioned about the software which I personally feel is probably the most valuable if it’s the real thing.
One thing I know is this. If somebody is selling me something like a software, I need to check it out before I buy. I could not believe someone would show it on screen and people were ready to spend $2,500 for it!!! No, have them send to you for you to really see and check out and then decide to purchase.
At the end of the day, before you decide to indebt yourself on something you believe is the real deal, take a deep breath and, DON’T BUY, and google the person or company selling such item and see what’s out there. I knew from attending this webinar, I was NOT spending $5,500!!! I then decided to research and found so many people saying his course were videos for them to see and not what he claimed. If it looks too good to be true, it probably is!!! Don’t buy online courses where people are offering you the stars!!!
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2024.05.16 08:02 PropRatActual The Albino Ep 10

Well, Hi all! again! 4Th Wall here, I figured since I just got power back, I might as well play some catch up on both series. Hope you enjoy this episode!!
Yup, I fucked that up. This is a repost with the correct Episode number, LOL! It's been a while since I've done that.
First, Previous, Next
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Benjamin smiled, watching the girls skip ahead of him. Today was a testing day of sorts for him. Unwilling to release firearms into this world haphazardly, yet unwilling to go without them as a backup; he had pulled from one of his sister’s favorite video games. He had “melted down” his bowie knife, repurposing the metal to be used in his latest creation. The final product rode on his hip like a short sword, but Ben was satisfied in the design when the vast majority of the people he passed ignored it as just another adventurer’s blade. Benjamin hoped, that with the existence of Majik, that he would be able to pass off any… peculiarities... as the realm of the supernatural.

The three of them arrived at the tailor’s establishment, and the girls were met with a customary indifference that seemed to present itself when a slave’s “master” was present. The moment Benjamin entered, the seamstress ceased to pay attention to the girls, and instead addressed him directly, “Ah, The Forgemaster’s Protégé. What can I do for you this day.” She said cooly, bowing slightly in welcome. “I’m here commission some clothing for these two, a reward for good service.” Benjamin began. It was technically true; the success of the forge had afforded him much more coin than a mere apprentice could have made. Qort had taken him on as a true partner, and Benjamin earned enough to comfortably afford to cloth his “slaves” in whatever he chose.

Some stigma’s remained however, and the seamstress seemed to glare sideways at the girls as they perused the fabrics adorning the walls. “Is that wise? A slave could lose her place with such gifts.” she asked, her polite tone barely hiding her disapproval. Benjamin sighed internally, ‘oh for fucks sake’ he groaned in his own mind before putting on facad, “I find that proper reward, afforded on the right servant can result in” he paused, projecting a smug expression and blatantly looking the girls up and down. “a profound dedication to their duties” he finished with a satisfied smile as the seamstress covered her mouth with a hand to hide a smile of her own. The gambit worked, and the Seamstress was obviously satisfied that the “Aereesen slave whores” were being properly “used”. “Ah, I understand. What did you have in mind for them.” She practically moaned back at Benjamin. ‘This hag needs a good pounding….’ Benjamin’s inner monologue threatened to crack his facade, “That’s the fun part, my good lady. It’s their choice. The surprise is half the excitement.” He chuckled.

The seamstress openly smiled at him this time before nodding and stepping over to the two girls. Benjamin breathed a sigh of relief as she seemed to treat them at least marginally more warmly. The old racist bag didn’t need to know that Benjamin was secretly building a small nest egg for his girls, or that his sending them out to do errands for him was how he was teaching them about money, value, and the application of Mathematics. She also didn’t need to know that the full Cutlery set that she had purchased last week had been made by Vi’s own hand as her first full solo commission set. Benjamin had stamped his “mark” on them, because slaves were not allowed to own anything, including their own work; but Vi had begun with raw steel and finished with one of the finest cooking knife sets he had seen in this world or his.

Benjamin settled onto a bench outside, using the excuse of wanting to enjoy the morning air to afford his girls some privacy. Now that Viola and Valtrya were eating a healthy diet, and the right calorie amount; they had blossomed into absolute bombshells. Their hair had recovered, and both sported long flowing locks that boasted a silky satin black color and texture that betrayed hints of deep royal purple. The color reminded Benjamin of one of those expensive custom car paints that changed color depending on the lighting.

Their skin recovered almost as quickly as their hair. The sickly, scabbed look was quickly replaced with the same satin quality as their hair to the touch, but with a light grey coloring that almost seemed to tease the edge of hinting at a greyish purple. A dense pattern of Small freckles of the same dark, almost royal, purple as the highlights in their hair frolicked on both girl’s cheeks, and down the sides of their necks. Because of their early lack of understanding on modestly, Ben knew that those freckles traveled much further. The sad truth was that Benjamin understood fully why Aereesen’s were the prize of slavers and brothels, and he silently prayed that he could give them enough self-worth and skill to have a better life than that, once he got them out of the Principality.

A door’s soft creaking broke Benjamin from his thoughts as the two sisters stepped out smiling, “Get everything you need?” he asked standing as the three of them departed the establishment. Val nodded vigorously, and Vi smiled as she spoke, “I think so, but I had to practically beg the woman to stop showing us lingerie… what did you tell her?” Benjamin felt his cheeks heat as he responded, “What I had to. The old hag doesn’t get enough at home. It’s not my fault that your ‘enthusiasm’ is in the forge and your studies, not between the sheets. I didn’t lie to her, I just let her draw her own conclusions, sorry.”

Vi’s eyes twinkled for a second, “Oh,” She smirked, “Thaaat’s why she broke out the silk. Some of her options were..” She blatantly bit her lip at Benjamin. “You didn’t…” He asked in shock, and Vi lifted up on her tippy toes to brush her lips against his ear, “Not telling” she purred, setting Bens senses on fire. She backed up a step, openly smirking at his beet red face. “But your expression is adorable… My Lord” She stated the last two words with a deep sultry tone, knowing that Ben couldn’t scold her in public before taking his hand, “May we visit the bazar next? Val saw some jewelry she wanted to look at.” Benjamin gave her a pointed look, that turned into a smile as she beamed at him, “Ok, sounds good. I need to pick up some food for the week.”

It was later that afternoon when the three of them left the bazar. They found Jukha waiting on the bench in front of their home. “Jukha! How are you!” Benjamin called, clasping the Orc’s hand firmly as the girls rushed inside to put up their purchases. Jukha reciprocated, if somewhat stiffly, to the strange to him gesture. “Benjamin, it is good to see you well.” His tone stopped Ben in his tracks, “What is it. Is your wife, ok?”
Jukha shook his head, “Vilora is well, but I have been tasked with finding you.” He said carefully, “The slaver, the one you dueled for those two,” he nodded to Vi and Val as they stepped back out of the building, “The Heir of The Romoregin house is here. He has lodged an official demand for satisfaction, and he brought a champion.”

Benjamin stiffened, “Another duel? You said an ‘official demand’… what happens if I refuse.” Jukha winced at Ben’s tone, “It is an archaic practice of my people, rarely remembered, and even more rarely demanded. You cannot deny a satisfaction claim, but should you prevail, no further claims can be made upon your person. I am sorry Benjamin, but if you flee or refuse, your life is forfeit; and your property goes to the claimant.” Jukha looked pointedly at Viola and Valtrya. “The young puke has put me in danger as well, if I do not deliver you and them to the duel, I can be detained. If they torture me….” Benjamin’s eyes widened before hardening in understanding. “Jukha…” He turned to find Viola standing next to him, with his musket in one arm and his ammunition bag in the other, and sighed, “Fuck”. He loaded his musket with a single roundball cartridge this time, unwilling to fire buck and ball in the town streets. He pealed the ball out of the paper wading after pouring the poweder, reaching into his haversack to retrieve a small round patch made of pillow ticking. Jukha looked on in mild fascination as Benjamin spit on the cloth patch before wrapping the ball in it and ramming the whole thing down the barrel. It wasn’t much, but it reduce windage, ensuring at least reasonable enough accuracy from the smoothbore to keep from hitting innocent bystanders. It would also virtually eliminate blow-by, upping the chamber pressure and giving him a little more velocity. “I’m ready.”

The four of them entered the small city square to be met with Qort and three Org guards. These soldiers wore different insignia that Benjamin had been taught were the mark of the capital. “Beenjaymen Shayfe” one of them butchered his name, “I am.” Ben nodded firmly, the other guard nodded, “And your two slaves, good. Has Jukha informed you of the proceedings.” Benjamin scowled, “A legalized way to attempt a revenge killing? Yea, I’ve been told.” Ben didn’t bother to hide his vitriol, “So I have to kill a motherfucker for defending myself from his father?”

“Not quite. The Heir has brought a champion. The rules are simple, all forms of combat are allowed” The first guard began as the second one began chaining the wrists of Viola and Valtrya. Benjamin began to move before thinking, only to be held back by Jukha, “Peace albino. They must do this. Fighting them will cause a forfeit.” Benjamin looked at the terrified faces of the two girls. He forced himself to calm down outwardly, but Benjamin could feel the rage building. He had worked so hard to save those two, to get them out.. now some snot nosed brat was going to try to kill him because his father didn’t know when to fuck off. Benjamin stepped out from around the guards. The “heir” was a young Durr. Ben had no frame of reference for age, but the Heir was substantially shorter, and his facial tentacles were almost mere buds. Beside him stood a crimson colossus, the same species as the Hunter he had shot saving Jukha. He was taller than that female, and was wearing plate armor, gilded in silver. He hefted a great sword of some kind and smiled openly at Benjamin. It was not a pleasant expression. “Ah, so You’re the puke I’ll be cleaning from my blade. I am Krastorin. Come here, pale one, I’ll make it quick.”

Benjamin looked him over, subtly shifting into a shooting stance but keeping his musket looking like he was resting the butt of a spear on the ground. “You look accomplished, what makes you do the bidding of the boy.” He asked, blatant scorn on his tone. The Young Durr flinched, his small tentacle buds writhing violently. “H’Dare Yee!” he bellowed, voice cracking with the strain of fury, “Aye’ll ‘ave Yee Head on Me’Wall!!”
Benjamin ignored him, focusing on the Hellirine. The man looked back at the boy with a raised eyebrow, “The young puke promised me one of those.” He pointed at Vi and Val, who had reverted to their former trembling submissive postures that Ben had met them in. “It appears that they are as well kept as claimed. I look forward to sampling them.” He leered. Benjamin looked over at the Young Durr and found his face a mixture of relief and anger. ‘Ah, lied about daddy’s slaves.’ He turned to the soldier standing next to him, “Is the duel on?” he growled.

“Combatants! Begin!” was the Soldiers response, and the crimson mercenary lifted his sword from his shoulders advancing forward with a long confident stride, “at last, let’s get this over wi..” a clap of thunder echo’d through the Feral wood, and most of the crowd cried out in surprise as Benjamin disappeared, seemingly behind a bubble of fire, and brimstone. The single round ball ignored the mercenary’s plate armor. Punching straight through as the soft lead mushroomed out into a ragged disk that measured almost an inch and a half. The mangled projectile, still travelling at almost half the speed of sound, eviscerated the chest cavity of the Mercenary before blowing a one foot wide hole out of the crimson man’s back. The exit wound missed Krastorin’s spine by an inch, but it didn’t matter. The projectile embedded itself into a post, thankfully missing any bystanders by mere inches in some cases. The Young Durr, who was standing just behind and to the side of his champion, was screaming as he pawed at the bits of pale yellow blood, bones, and fragments of internal organs now covering him from head to toe.

Benjamin handed the smoking musket to Jukha, drawing his short sword and walking over to a sputtering, choking, and coughing Krastorin. The Hellirine lay face down on the ground, having fallen that way from the momentum of his initial advance. The back of Benjamins mind was sickly amused as he remembered the old Hollywood trope of bullets throwing people backward, and a pinch of regret sparked in his soul as his opponent death rattled. He stepped up to the Heir, resting the blade against his neck, “Are we done here. Be a better man than your father and learn when to save your own life.” The Young Durr froze, staring up at him in abject terror for several moments as a puddle formed at his feet. Benjamin opened his mouth to speak again when the boy simply passed out, falling into the puddle of his own mess as his mind refused to stay conscious.

Benjamin turned to walk back towards Jukha and the girls. “Unchain them.” Benjamin’s tone could have frozen a raging forge’s inferno. To his surprise, two of the soldiers drew their weapons on him, “You need to come with us. All Touched must be registered with...” Benjamin pointed his short sword at the one talking… and pulled the trigger. The percussion revolver built into the hilt of the short sword was zero’d using a notch Benjamin cut into the crossguard, and the tip of the curved blade as a crude set of open sights. The barrel of the revolver lay along one side of the blade, and was rifled. The speaking soldier orc’s took the smaller pistol round through the forehead, exploding the back of his skull in a cone of dark green and grey mist. The exit wound showered his companion in bits of bone and brains. Benjamin’s thumb found the hammer, and four satisfying clicks echo’d in the stunned silence, “HEAR ME!” He growled, “I, am touched by the Gods. I posses the power to end any life I choose using the power of Hell itself!” ‘if I have to show them a gun, might as well throw them off the trail’ “The violence of the raging volcano obeys my very fingertips.” His revolvesword bucked a second time as another soldier orc made a move to rush him. The smaller pistol round still punched through the orcs armor and out the back, but only left him screaming on the ground. Benjamin re-cocked, and leveled his weapon at the orc holding the chains to Val and Vi. “Now, release them.” This last remaining Orc did as asked, before gathering up his screaming companion as the girls rushed to Benjamin, he pulled them close, whispering, “I’m sorry we wont be able to pick up your dresses.”

The three of them packed up that night. Qort had understood, knowing all too well what the Principality would do to acquire a Touched of Benjamins ability. “Stay safe my friend. I pray our paths cross again.” Jukha snuck them out of the village that night, using his wagon to get them to his home. They stayed a week, laying low while they planned their next move. The girls spent their time learning recipes from Jukha’s wife, and ben took the time to unwind a bit. Jukha and He went on a hunt, and Benjamin was given a run down on the flora and fauna of the Feral wood. The two of them brought back a pair of Stags, and the three women cooked them a feast.

“Dinner’s ready!!” called Viola, setting the last of the sides on the table as the dutch oven roasted meat was brought off of the stove top. It was a simple yet elegant meal. Stag, potatoes, some kind of Kale style vegetable that Benjamin had never seen before. Soon enough, everyone at the table was leaning back, as full as they could make themselves. “So, pinkskin,” Jukha asked, “Where do you plan on going. I wouldn’t mind you staying with me. I could use another hunter, but I suspect that they would notice the extra product I brought to the village.”

Benjamin Hummed, “The Maridian Combine. Qort told me that they banned slavery over a century ago, the girls have learned so much already. It would be easy to find jobs for them.” Vi and Val drooped slightly but hid it well. Jukha noticed it but said nothing. “A good choice, their boarders are well guarded, you would need to free them before you cross, or end up in a dungeon yourself.”

“Good point, I can write up a simple writ of freedom. Something I can sign and give to them.” Benjamin nodded, “I can get started on that to…” he paused as a hand fell on his. He looked to see Viola staring at him, fighting back tears, “Hey, what’s wrong. You will be free…” Jukha nodded slowly and stood. “love,” he said to Vilora, “I need some help with the livestock” The Farie met his eyes in unspoken understanding, fluttering out the front door with Jukha.

“Vi, what’s wrong.” Benjamin asked gently.

“No… go… Val… stay…” Both of them turned to Valtrya in shock. She was trembling, “I wont..leave.”

“You speak?” Benjamin looked in shock, but Viola spoke next, “Benjamin, we don’t want to leave. We want to stay, with you. I…” She paused. Ben sighed, “I want you to stay too.” He said, finally admitting it to himself, “But I can’t own you. It’s killing me that you are my property.” He reached up and wiped a tear from Vi’s eyes, “You are so much more than property. I feel evil, every day that I wake up knowing that I could do anything I wanted to you, or worse, die and have someone else hurt you for the fun of it.” Benjamin bowed his head. Viola reached out, lifting his chin to look into his eyes, “Then come with us.” She whispered as Val stood up and stepped around the table, “yes.. You, come.” She wrapped herself around Ben from the side leaning in until she was resting her head against his shoulder, “I’m… staying.. with you.” she said softly. Viola nodded, “Benjamin, how old do you think we are.”

Ben looked at her in confusion, “I have no idea, I’ve always assumed you were teenagers. 13-14 years old for Val, maybe 16 for you, but that was when you were skin and bones.” He admitted.

Viola’s eyes widened in understanding. “You did not want to bed us because you thought us children.” Benjamin nodded slowly, answering. “And forcing sex on a child is the worst kind of crime on my world”. Viola and Valtrya looked at each other, before Vi spoke. “Ben, my sister will turn one hundred and three in a fortnight. I just had my one hundred and fifteenth birthday last week.” She leaned in, pressing her lips to Bens as she kissed him passionately for a moment. “We are no children,” Viola paused as Valtrya leaned in, kissing Ben lightly on the neck, “You are not forcing us to do anything, but leave.” Viola whispered as she began to close in to a surprised Benjamin for another kiss.

The door to the cabin flew open violently, and the girls pulled back to a more modest distance. Jukha walked in, carrying a panting Vilora. “What happened.” Ben asked hurriedly, hoping he wasn’t blushing as hard as the heat on his cheeks suggested. Vilora waved a hand as Jukha set her down in her chair, “The Vin… My sisters… they reached out… They wish to meet…” The Farie gathered herself, “They also sent a warning. We must leave, tonight… hunters.”
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If you made it this far, I very much appreciate it. I hope you enjoyed the episode! If you believe I have earned it, I have a Patreon that is two episodes ahead of the free releases for this series. I hope you feel taking a look is worth it. Either way, come hang out in the comments. Everyone's welcome! I've discovered Im a bit of a "warts and all" poster, so even critical comments are welcome. Hell, You might even teach me something (it happens more than I'd like to admit).
I have heard people off and on reference Royal road, So I am going to give it another shot. I'll be adding the Royal Road link from now on. If you like reading over there, It is on the same schedule as here. I would greatly appreciate a like/review/comment if you feel so inclined. Thank you again for stopping by.
First, Previous, NextRoyal Road
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2024.05.15 21:55 Villies Gentle Parenting Reply to Nora's "Shit or get off the pot" from an Ex-SO

Hi Nora!
I'm Villies!
I'm an ex-Scn, ex-SO child recruit and I don't put my name out there. You were talking about me, or people like me!
I'm sure my identity's been figured out, but I don't shout my name and face from the mountain tops and I don't care to right now.
That doesn't make me a goober, like you say. Huh-oh Hot Dog.
And here's my reason why :
First:
Mental Health is tough! You and I both went without basic human decency and were treated like garbage, for years! Not only were we treated like garbage, we were made to believe we were. We internalized anguish and suffering for years. We were in a coercive militaristic cult!
You want to go up the mountaintop and cry out! Good for you! Hurray! It's not the only way to be.
Just like you can't take other kids toys, you can't tell me to yell at a camera like you or I'm a goober if I don't. You have to leave the kids with their coloring book alone. You can't have them in your game if they don't want to and leave them alone.
Sometimes I'm not all Hero-tough-guy. Sometimes when bad things happen in my now-now life, I dissociate and crash for weeks. Sometimes just because! Weee!
Sometimes, I get confused about how I feel and think, too. Being a second-gen SO is a tough brain ouchie. Sometimes that doesn't make us very smart and stable adults and gives us big feelings we have difficulty understanding and controlling.
I like to stop and think really much before I say things I'm not super-sure about and even then I make a lot of mistakes. I thought a lot of things and said a lot of things in my life that turned out really wrong. I doubt myself a lot now, I stop to think a lot, and I believe that's a good thing. It's really better to be this way than what I was given as a child!
I know you feel super-duper sure about what's good for me, for us, but I'm not. I'm living my life! You're living yours! I know, big feelings are hard. But we have to stop, and think, and let answers come.
For me, it's studying, and building the life, by myself, that I wasn't given, and with a brain that skips a beat once in a while. And oohwee, it's not easy! I think that deserves respect, don't you?
Two:
The schoolyard has kids that think hurting another kid is cool. They think beating up the nerds is cool. They get cheered on when they start a fight by goobers that don't know any of us but want to see a fight. The bullies think their ideas are the best ideas. I don't think they're cool and I don't give my lunch money to bullies.
Now, you want either I join in beating up the nerds, close my eyes, or get beaten up myself. No thank you!
I'm waiting for the bullies to go away. I think after having smoked all of mom's cigarettes and used all the nerds' homework, they'll run out of people to start a fight with and become boring to the kids that cheer them on, and the rest of the nerds can go on building something better.
Cult recovery, is really boring most of the time! Like, really really boring! If we yell at everyone that don't think like you or make a big crowd display out of people that need help, well, it doesn't help! Sometimes we need friends and people that give us a hug and good words, not a piñata party with Mike Rinder or Chris Shelton hanging from a rope! Or worse, bully those that need help to come out of the cult, yelling at them from the street!
It's hurting people, especially the poor piñata, and it only makes the cheering goobers happy and those guys don't care about you or me. Plus I think their cheering and cries for blood is getting in the way of thinking clear thoughts and keeping with reality. I know I would! It's not why I come to the schoolyard! No thank you!
You know who else thinks their way is the only way? Scientology. And we're done with that.
I hope that answers you why Ex's don't jump on your wagon!
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2024.05.15 15:41 Clerith-Enjoyer Crisis Core is Clerith coded

Hear me out, I know this will get some heat because for years this game has been horribly misunderstood by the fandom BUT inhales Crisis Core is a Clerith game. Start to finish, beginning to end, never anything else.
First of all I want to say that Nojima has his story and he doesn't deviate with it. It's consistent through and through. Like most stories, there's no purpose to building up CA as the main romance of the series only to introduce competition like CT and ZA, it detracts from that story. We see that in Rebirth the story flows only perfectly with CA and that's by design.
There's no point nor purpose to showing Aerith and Zack fall in love and spend years dating only to have them parted. This "star crossed lovers" theme alone is Clerith coded, and Clerith original, but having it in Crisis Core makes no sense especially if the intent is to then somehow reunite them. We must look at this deeper.
So we have to say, that just as Clerith's love is the most important part of the OG and trilogy, so it is the same with the Compilation. We see that Hollowed is a love song from Cloud to Aerith, which he sings even before they come together and then are taken apart. It's a foreshadowing of their love. So there is form for having CA before CA take the lead in the story.
Crisis Core is more subtle about it, but it's there. Cloud is in the background but he's searching, searching for purpose not knowing that purpose is Aerith. He pushes himself to be something and someone he's not to impress Tifa not realising that she doesn't care for him anyway, just wants a SOLDIER.
MEANWHILE, it's Zack who sets the scene. Cloud idolises Zack, they are friends yes but he's Cloud's hero in more ways than one. Zack we see is the wingman in Rebirth, helping set the two up once again, but even back in Crisis Core he does this. He tells Cloud all about this really pretty girl, he gives him the confidence and the awareness, sowing the seeds of love that would sprout in his heart and mind into a beautiful array of reunion flowers.
Zack himself flirts with many girls and such, but he sees just how much Cloud and Aerith are destined so he fights to get Cloud back to her at the end. There's proof for this, as he tells Cloud specifically that he will be his living legacy, just after his last thoughts are of Aerith. Cloud inherits the Buster Sword, the SOLDIER first class rank and the role as leading man of Aerith's affections.
Meanwhile Aerith herself is primed. Zack gave her such ammo to make her ready, teaching her the one date trick and making her more outgoing and unafraid of SOLDIER. By the time Cloud arrives she's ready for him. She's been waiting for him all this time. Zack even built the flower wagon with which she gets confidence to sell flowers and that's how she meets Cloud!
This series is so well written tbh I'm not surprised people miss the obvious. Clerith is probably the best written love story of our time, the best example of star crossed lovers built up to be together but tragically ripped apart. That love doesn't just happen during the two weeks of FF 7, but has been grown and developed through Before Crisis, Crisis Core and more. The devs wanted us to see that so they re-release the game before Rebirth to enhance the CA vibes and what did they name it? Reunion. They are hinting at the future for CA and I'm ready!
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2024.05.15 13:56 In_Yellow_Clad If At First You Don't Succeed -- Part 110

[prev]
As it stood, my crazy plan certainly seemed to resonate with the gathered leaders, though they did offer their own suggestions as to how best to implement improvements and contingencies. I of course welcomed each and every one of them, then debated their merits and as the hours flew by we weeded out the ideas that simply would not work and expanded on those that would.
It was quite honestly refreshing to not have to do all the thinking for once, it felt nice to do a little outsourcing as one might describe it. Besides, as many would say I only had one point of view, well, two if we’re being literal, that of a human and an arachne, the former coming from a world without magic and monstrous beings like those I had surrounded myself with.
Their unique viewpoints had offered a wealth of possibilities and were in their own ways invaluable to the war effort. I am glad that they all managed to get along as well. I had seen no hint of animosity or long held grudges between any of them, not even the age old and quite frankly stereotypical hostility between the elves and dwarves had reared its head. In fact, the two races had seemingly fed into each other's ideas with excited glee, and I had almost expected there to be a bout of mad cackling near the end of their ramblings.
Of course now the meeting was over and we were all starting our preparations. The basic prep wouldn’t take that long, ensuring our warriors were all well supplied, their weapons and armor at peak quality before the battle was paramount. It was everything else about the plan that would take time, time we must ensure we had if we were to succeed. And so I headed for the Aberrant Spire, a place I had not been in a long time.
As I followed the streets I was reminded of my first delve into this city, back when it was fully under the control of vile abominations. I paused, looking at a short building on my right, large claw marks scoring the wall near the lip of the roof. I remember one of those beasts had attempted to climb up to get me as I traversed the rooftops.
Remembering that I felt a shiver run down my spine and issued a silent word of thanks that such horrors no longer existed in my new home, that vibrant life had returned to these hallowed streets. It was a place of hope now, not terror.
It was with this remembering of certain facts that I began looking for a faster means of travel to reach the Spire, as walking would be a long and arduous task indeed. Thankfully this was something that was already thought of, for as I meandered through the streets in my search I came across a somewhat raised walkway, except this walkway had a pair of lines worked from crystal or metal, I couldn’t rightly tell which, running through it.
I paused, wondering how I had never seen this thing before and in doing so I bore witness to its purpose. A merchant with a large wagon approached a circular pattern on the walkway, ensured his wares were well secured and then spoke a destination. At once a ball of energy surrounded him and the wagon, raising it all off the ground and then sending him zipping along, following the right hand line. Even as I watched, another traveler came from the opposite direction, the magic wrought into the pathway depositing them gently off to one side and they continued on their merry way.
I had to wonder why thing wasn’t around the first time I had come here, though the more I looked at the construction the stone looked somewhat fresh, perhaps it was simply a new addition and not something from the city’s past. Either way, it looked mighty useful so I stepped into the circle and took a deep breath.
“The Aberrant Spire.” I spoke clearly, and felt myself go weightless. The magic ball of energy formed around me, lifting me off solid ground and leaving me floating, which certainly triggered a slight fear response from my arachnid instincts. I was moved into position and then shot forward. It took all I had to not scream, sudden fear turning into excitement as my human experiences harkened back to several amusement park visits as a kid and getting to ride the roller coasters.
Though instead of loop the loops and corkscrews it was naught but straight lines and gentle curves that weaved through and over the city streets. Everything was a blur and yet I hardly felt it, really all that I felt was a vague sense of motion in my gut and the wind pulling at my hair, but that was it. I did see the spire come into view however, and steadily it grew larger and larger till at last it dominated the skyline.
My breakneck pace started to slow and just as it had with the other traveler, the magic gently shifted me to one side and then put me down softly. I found my legs were incredibly wobbly and as such I simply stood there and waited for the wobbling to cease. Once it had I stepped off the platform and down onto the street proper, finally taking in the sights as it were.
If the areas around the palace and the rest of the city were for merchants, common folk and nobility, then this area was almost exclusively inhabited by those with magical talents. I saw robed figures flitting to and fro, some hovering along on disks of light or wind, one even walked into a shadowy patch and vanished, presumably reappearing elsewhere. And over it all loomed the Spire, still as pretty and strange as it had been, though it seemed to glow with newfound life and vigor.
The teleporter complex seemed in working order as well, though it would have to be since new mages had taken up residence in the spire above. I made for the complex, many mages who had been engrossed in walking and thinking doing double takes as I passed. I simply nodded at each in turn and continued on my merry way, entering the complex and getting bombarded by the sounds of a busy building. Pages and mages zipped about, conducting their various tasks as they did, stepping into or out of the teleporters as needed. It felt almost like that one time I’d visited Grand Central, boy hadn’t that been fun.
I decided that I should probably get some directions to the person that would be most suited to help me with my plan, really whomever happened to be in charge of this place would be perfect for that and so I stepped up to a circular desk that seemed to be staffed by a mixture of elves, dwarves, humans and even a slime person, the latter wobbling in place and simply shifting their features about to face anyone that spoke to them.
I stopped before an elf, the woman looking up and recognition dawning on her face as she beheld me.
“Y-Your majesty! What brings you all the way out here?” She stammered even as she made to stand and bow. I waved her back down into her seat with a smile, the elf sinking back down into her seat.
“I have business with whomever is in charge of the Spire and I have found that I have no idea who that happens to be. I was hoping to change that, and get directions as well.”
The woman nodded, still a bit frazzled thanks to an unannounced visit by royalty.
“I-I can do that, a moment please your majesty.” She said, hunching over a large book that sat before her and furiously flipping through it. Once she found what she needed, she opened a drawer and pulled out what looked like some sort of talisman, setting it down before me on the desk. “Firstly, this will identify you as not only an authorized visitor to the spire, but also as royalty. Granted we all know you are but the spire itself wouldn’t and so would treat you as an intruder if you didn’t carry this with you at all times. And considering your authority over us all, it will allow you to access areas that would be otherwise restricted to normal visitors.”
As she explained its function I picked the talisman up and looked it over. It was a simple thing, not too gaudy though I couldn’t help but notice a coat of arms upon it that had a distinctly arachne flavor to it. I could swear I’d seen it before somewhere else, perhaps that would have to be something else I looked into later.
“I can call an escort for you, they can guide you right to the Archmage.” The receptionist spoke, snapping me from my thoughts as I affixed the talisman to my breast.
“That won’t be necessary, a map will suffice. I am an adventurer first and a queen second after all.” Chuckling, I watched her nod and pull a sheet of parchment towards her, a hand hovering over the surface and magic flowing from her palm onto the page. What looked like ink appeared on it, which then took the shape of the current room I resided in. Words even appeared, informing me that I could use any of the teleporters I wished.
“The man you are looking for is Archmage Yesric. As far as I know he doesn’t have any pressing duties today so you should find him sequestered in his office.” The receptionist rose and bowed again, keeping her hunched over pose even as I started to walk away.
“Thank you, you’ve been most helpful.” I said. I took a subtle look over my shoulder and was relieved to see that she’d sat back down and was currently in the midst of furious conversation with her coworkers. Which was fair, not every day a member of royalty comes asking for help right?
Stepping into the teleporter I was promptly deposited into the halls of the Spire, which now bustled with activity. Mostly staff it seemed, though I spotted several gaggles of younger folk all dressed in something reminiscent of school uniforms rushing through the halls, their expressions belying a desperate desire to reach their destination as quickly as possible. I had heard nothing about the spire being used as some sort of school, though I suppose it only made sense to train the next generation of magic users in a place where magic was dominant.
Looking down at the map I’d been provided, I was pleased to see that my current position was reflected upon its surface. But now there was a handy dandy guiding line that pointed down a hallway to my right. And so without further ado, I followed it. People naturally got out of my way, though whether that was because I took up most of the hall or because they knew who I was I wasn’t sure, either way I did my best to not impede their progress too much.
Turning a corner I was suddenly met with an empty hallway, one that slowly began to fill with black smoke. My gut twisted and my head felt heavy, my eyes began to flutter and then I blinked, the hallway was bustling with people, no longer filled with the smoke. I licked my lips, trying to shake the ghosts of the past and move forward, though my legs couldn’t help but shiver slightly with every step I took.
Floor by floor I made my way closer to my target, till eventually I was directed through a door into what looked like every executive's office that I’d ever seen, just with a fantasy twist to it. Or rather, it was the little office for a secretary that I entered, which presumably meant that through the next door was what I was looking for.
A bespectacled goblin lass looked up from a large tome and blinked at me, her eyes rather enlarged thanks to the lenses that sat before them.
“Can I help you?” She drawled tiredly, and I stepped up to a good distance from her desk.
“Yes, I’m here to speak with the Archmage.”
“I do not recall setting any meetings today. May I ask who wishes for this audience?” She said, flipping through another much smaller tome that sat nearby.
“Safa Eventra.”
She continued to look through this smaller book, before freezing, her head slowly turning towards me. Now she really seemed to be looking at me and I could only smile politely back at her.
“A-Apologies your majesty, a moment if you please, I must inform the Archmage of your presence.” She said, hopping down off her chair and scampering hurriedly towards the other door. I didn’t say anything, instead just engaging in the arachne equivalent of rocking back and forth on my heels. She slipped through the door and I could hear muffled speech before several loud thuds and some not so muffled cursing ensued. The goblin secretary appeared, leaning against the door after closing it.
“The archmage will see you in just a moment, your majesty.” She said, resuming her post and doing her best to look professional for me.
“That’s quite alright, I’m in no rush.” I responded, humming softly to myself as I looked around the room. A moment later, I heard a voice call out from the office and since that was my cue, I bowed my head to the secretary and stepped through the door into the archmage's office.
[prev]
submitted by In_Yellow_Clad to HFY [link] [comments]


2024.05.15 03:41 ddgr815 Detroit killed the sedan. We may all live to regret it

Last week, General Motors announced that it would end production of the Chevrolet Malibu, which the company first introduced in 1964. Although not exactly a head turner (the Malibu was “so uncool, it was cool,” declared the New York Times), the sedan has become an American fixture, even an icon, appearing in classic films like Say Anything and Pulp Fiction. Over the past 60 years, GM produced some 10 million of them.
With a price starting at a (relatively) affordable $25,100, Malibu sales exceeded 130,000 vehicles last year, a 13% annual increase and enough to rank as the #3 Chevy model, behind only the Silverado and the Equinox. Still, that wasn’t enough to keep the car off GM’s chopping block. The company says that the last Malibu will roll out of its Kansas City, KS, factory this November; the plant will then be retooled to produce the new Chevy Bolt, an electric crossover SUV.
With the Malibu’s demise, GM will no longer sell any sedans in the U.S. In that regard, it will have plenty of company. Ford stopped producing sedans for the U.S. market in 2018. And it was Sergio Marchionne, the former head of Stellantis, who triggered the headlong retreat in 2016 when he declared that Dodge and Chrysler would stop making sedans. (Tesla, meanwhile, offers two sedans: the Model 3 and Model S.)
As recently as 2009, U.S. passenger cars (including sedans and a plunging number of station wagons) outsold light trucks (SUVs, pickups, and minivans), but today they’re less then 20% of new car purchases. The death of the Malibu is confirmation, if anyone still needs it, that the Big Three are done building sedans. That decision is bad news for road users, the environment, and budget-conscious consumers—and it may ultimately come around to bite Detroit.
When asked, automakers are quick to blame the sedan’s decline on shifting consumer preferences. Americans simply want bigger cars, the story goes, and there’s some truth to it. Compared to sedans, many SUV and pickup models provide extra cargo space and give the driver more visibility on the highway. In a crash, those inside a heavier car have a better chance of escaping without injury—although the same can’t be said for pedestrians or those in other vehicles. (That discrepancy inspired a headline in The Onion: “Conscientious SUV Shopper Just Wants Something That Will Kill Family In Other Car In Case Of Accident.”)
This narrative of the market’s dispassionate invisible hand tossing the sedan aside holds intuitive appeal, but it leaves gaping holes. For one thing, federal policy has, in many ways, ]distorted the car market to favor larger vehicles](https://www.vox.com/future-perfect/24139147/suvs-trucks-popularity-federal-policy-pollution). Fuel economy regulations, for instance, are more lenient for SUVs and pickups than they are for smaller cars, nudging automakers to produce more of the former and fewer of the latter. Another egregious example: Small business owners such as real estate agents can save thousands of dollars by writing off the cost of their vehicle—but only if it weighs more than 6,000 pounds, a stipulation that effectively excludes sedans entirely.
Carmakers, for their part, powerfully influence consumer demand through billions of dollars spent on advertising. Because SUVs and pickups are more expensive and profitable than sedans, manufacturers have a clear incentive to tilt buying decisions away from small cars and toward larger ones (which helps explain ad campaigns designed to confer an undeserved green halo on SUVs).
Even those who don’t want a big car may feel pressure to upsize, if only to avoid being at a disadvantage in a crash or when trying to see what lies ahead on the road. Such people find themselves trapped in a prisoner’s dilemma, preferring that everyone had smaller cars, but resigning themselves to buying an SUV or pickup since others already have them.
For all these reasons, modest-size sedans like the Malibu are disappearing from American streets, supplanted by SUVs and pickups that seem to grow bulkier with every model refresh. (The Chevy Bolts produced at GM’s Kansas plant will be bigger than the previous Bolt model, which was retired last year.) This pattern of ongoing vehicle expansion, a trend I call car bloat, is especially advanced in North America, but it’s visible worldwide. In 2022, SUVs alone comprised 46% of global car sales, up from 20% a decade earlier.
From a societal perspective, the decline of the sedan is a disaster. Consider road safety, an area where the U.S. underperforms compared to the rest of the rich world, especially for pedestrians and cyclists (deaths for both recently hit 40-year highs). Larger cars have bigger blind spots, convey more force in a collision, and tend to strike a person’s torso rather than their legs. They’re also heavier, with propulsion systems that guzzle more gasoline (or electrons) to move, producing more pollution in the process. Their weight also catalyzes the erosion of tires and roads, spewing microscopic particles that can damage human health as well as aquatic ecosystems.
Despite the myriad problems of car bloat, the federal government has taken no steps to restrain it. In the absence of regulations or taxes, carmakers have ample reason to abandon their sedan models in favor of SUVs and trucks. The higher margins of larger cars is especially precious now, as the Big Three scrabble for money to invest in electrification and autonomous technology, as well as to pay for the rising costs of wages and benefits that they agreed to last fall during negotiations with the United Auto Workers.
Realistically, it would be a Herculean task to pivot back toward selling small cars, even if American automakers wanted to. Although adept at selling high-priced, feature-laden SUVs and trucks, they’re far less experienced at the low-margin, high volume business of producing cheaper small cars. That is one reason (though hardly the only one) that China’s booming market for EVs, including many modest-size and affordable models, is sowing fear throughout Detroit—and in Washington, too.
Where does the shift from sedans toward SUVs and trucks leave everyday Americans? With a strained wallet, for one thing. With its MSRP starting at $25,100 the Malibu has been one of the most affordable U.S.-produced cars, costing barely half as much as the average new vehicle, which exceeded $47,000 in February (the Malibu is also at least a few thousand dollars cheaper than the Bolt that will replace it at the Kansas factory).
Especially when factoring in higher interest rates and spiking insurance premiums, cars are becoming a financial strain for many Americans. According to the federal Bureau of Transportation Statistics, the average annual, inflation-adjusted cost of owning a vehicle and driving it 15,000 miles hit $12,182 in 2023, an increase of over 30% in just six years.
Over time, the elimination of sedans leaves the Big Three vulnerable if consumer preferences shift away from enormity. “Legacy car companies haven’t done a great job of thinking long term,” said Alex Roy, a cohost of the Autonocast podcast. “Gutting lineups is probably good for manufacturing efficiency, but not having one vehicle in a given product segment is short-sighted.”
Due to sprawled development patterns and woefully underfunded transit, many American families will still want a car even as they become more expensive. But, as I argued previously in Fast Company, a surge in vehicle prices could compel some households to swap a second or third car for a minicar or e-cargo bike that offers limited range, but costs only a fraction as much. Already, golf carts are popping up in places far removed from the retirement and beach communities where they have been a mainstay: In New Orleans, they’ve become so popular that the city is adopting new ordinances.
With the Malibu’s death, is clearer than ever that Detroit has abandoned the affordable sedan. They may yet live to regret it.
submitted by ddgr815 to Detroit [link] [comments]


2024.05.14 09:50 Blue-LobsterR Scary player encounter

So I was in Elektro, and I had found a car that had all the tires on it and only required a few parts. So I looted Elektro for a bit and eventually got all the parts needed, and after encountering a few players (official server that had like 50 players in it) and killing them I stashed my parts in a location that was fairly hidden, I hid them as I was going to wait for 2 of my friends to head here and we could fix up the car and attempt to drive out of there. So after stashing the parts in a factory, someone opens the 2 big red metal doors and at first I didn’t but when I did I was basically dead once I saw them, I didn’t have a lot of good loot on my guy and cared more about the parts. All I could make out before I died was it was a man wearing basically all yellow. Once I died I just respawned and was confident enough my stash would never be found (spoiler alert it was never found) so I didn’t really care and told my friends to be careful when entering the town. So right after I died one of my friends had just entered the town seconds later, and once they got in they noticed the yellow man I had described to them earlier. So my friend hides in a building and watches the yellow man, but after losing sight of him, just a few seconds later someone runs into his house and it’s a yellow man. He apparently got hit with a pipe wrench and died instantly after a single hit. (from what they described anyway) but after this my other friend was 5 or so minutes away from the town, and when they did arrived into the town they crept around and avoided both areas we died in, but after walking and being very paranoid and checking his surroundings constantly, the yellow man appears and waves at my friend then shoots him. My friend jumped so hard because he said it’s like he appeared out of nowhere, and while this is going down I had also just entered the town after trying to spawn in or near Elektro. I did. spawn in near a gas station outside of Elektro and made my way in. By the time I got in and went to check on my stash, it had been around 2-3 minutes since my friend died. So I scout out the factory and see no one outside it and from what I could tell no one was in it, I even heard the same gunshot which I assumed was from the yellow man. So I go into the factory and right as I enter I see yellow right around the corner and book it. I close the red doors and run as far as I can making sure he can’t see where I’m going. I eventually made it inside a small shed that was fairly far away, and right when I think I’m safe I hear someone outside, it had to be them. So I open the shed and no one is there, so I exit the shed and see no one. But here he comes around the corner, and bam I’m dead. At this point I was assuming I’m getting unlucky, yea maybe I just suck idk. But I spawn and am in Elektro, so Instead of going near where I died or where I stashed the parts I decide to just sit in a building, I’m my mind I’m thinking he will come to me, and I guess I was right, he came straight for me. It scared the shit out of me, just seeing yellow from all their gear and clothing gave me a heart attack. I fired at them, but it seemed infective, I was dead within seconds. At this point I’m starting to think this guys too good and I just suck at being stealthy and hiding. So after I died I kept respawning till I got a spawn near Elektro, and eventually I did, near that gas station again. And when I got this spawn my friend was waiting at the church/temple building, where he yet again encounters this player, so right as he encounters them up there I am in the factory (which is by the two apartments by the train wagons. I hear a gunshot and my friend tells me they died, I grab the crate with the loot and try to head out the red doors with it. I see something around the corner. It looks like the elbow of a player wearing yellow, and they peak their head. It’s him. My friend has just died a few seconds ago and he’s already here? My heart sank and I got so scared, I’m not sure why this scared me so much. But right as I see him I start walking the other way, I could hear him fighting zombies. So I made it into the factory bathroom and I start to logout. As the timer gets closer to 0 I can hear him coming, I was genuinely scared. And right as I hear him at the door, I’m officially logged out.
Sorry if this is horrible writing I was just explaining my experience. I tried to explain this exactly how it went down. But it’s not the same as experiencing it. If they were hacking or not they struck genuine fear in me. They just appeared out of nowhere most the time. As stupid as this sounds that very night I had a nightmare about DayZ, a yellow man was hunting me down. It felt sort of like slenderman. Anyway that’s all, I had to type this on my phone and after a few paragraphs my phone started lagging bad lol
submitted by Blue-LobsterR to dayz [link] [comments]


2024.05.13 19:38 halfkeck "I fubar'ed it" A 24 Hours of Lemons story

Things have been busy here so I thought I would catch up on our two latest race adventures.
It's time for another race, so I hook up to the trailer and bring it to work. The Miata has been in the enclosed trailer since I ran it through the Christmas parade, but now it is time to wake it from it's winter slumber and start preparing it for Barber, our 10th 24 Hours of Lemons race.
The car should not need much as we ran nearly flawless at the last race at Road America. We had one spin and the wing mounts broke but that was about it.
I get it to the shop and we hurry up and start in. I already have one bay tied up with the next car we are building (more on that later, it is epic) and can't afford to tie up a second during business hours. Youngest jumps in and rebuilds the entire wing assembly. Manny comes by and drives the car to his place and keeps it there until a few more parts come in. It's a block or two away from the shop, we can nearly see it from the front sidewalk. No plates, no insurance, no problem.
Next we change out the brake pads, front rotors, front brake hoses and rear pads. We also change the timing belt after a debate on exactly how many race hours the old one has. Change the oil and the car is ready to load.
Racerguy comes down and we leave out Thursday night. I am driving a little fast as the website shows the gates close at 9 and our gps says we are expected to get there at 9.01. A quick fuel stop and a brisket sandwich at Buccees off I65 in Alabama and we are rolling on through the night.
Finally we get to Barber Motorsports park in Leeds Alabama. Just before 9pm we get in line and get signed in. The team ahead of us is just realizing they lost a wheel off their enclosed sometime on their tow in. The way I was driving before we stopped for fuel I could have lost the car out the back like in the movie Cars and not noticed. Luckily everything seems to be in one piece, we give everything a check over and drop the trailer and head off to the hotel which is thankfully just across the street from the entrance to the track.
The next morning we are up early. No Gill this race as he has had foot surgery and is out of commission, which means we are sorely missing his cooking skills. So we take advantage of the breakfast at the hotel and head over to the track. After we unload the car we have a discussion which ends with us moving across the paddock to the far side as the side we have had for the last few years is shorter and we can't park the trailer in that area as the new trailer is about ten foot longer than the old open trailer.
After the first of two drivers meetings of the weekend (many tracks do the practice day and hold their own drivers meeting to explain their own rules, then the next day Lemons runs the race and has their drivers meeting) we load a driver in the car and send him out to practice. Rinse and repeat until we have sent all the drivers out for a few laps.
By then it is time for inspections. First off all the tech inspection. They have a big crew this race but our favorite inspector Dale Strimple is there. He's knowledgeable, affable and very popular among all the racers. Every day is also his birthday, a story best told later. He and the other tech people soon pass our car then it's time for BS tech.
We have gone all out this race for our theme. This has been a long time thought of mine, it just took a while to get it enacted. So for context I am a cancer survivor and we are always doing crazy themes to try and draw attention to the importance of early detection in cancer improving your chances. In the past we have done free colonscopy tests with huge antique cameras and motor oil for props which thankfully no one took us up on. Later we have done dinosaurs with the inflatable dino costumes to bring home the point that that "dinosaurs never got checked and now they are extinct" which is also on the side of the car. It was popular, I mean who doesn't like to see a inflatable dinosaur walking around?
Today we have again upped our game. We are taking a scene from one of the funniest movies I have ever seen, Johnny Dangerously. There's a part where Micheal Keaton's character is counseling his younger brother not to have sex until he is married, which is funny in itself because Micheals character is always surrounded by a crowd of ladies who apparently are all competing for his affections. Anyhow he shows his brother this video of all these poor guys who are suffering from poor choices that have caused them to have severely enlarged testicles. Like basketball sized. Watch it sometime, it's hilarious. So we made up special pants to hold some dodgeballs and shirts that said: "mens health is no joke, get checked before you croak!" We got a lot of attention for that and even made the wrap video. Walking in those pants with the dodgeballs was not easy!
The next day it's race day. It could not be a nicer day in Alabama. Temps are great, sun is shining. We get through the drivers meeting and line up the cars. Racerguy is going first, we are trying to balance our drivers so that everyone gets one start or one finish for the weekend. It's fun to finish the race or the day and fun to start as well.
The flag drops and we are off. It was a complete fiasco at the start! Someone oiled down half the track on the pace laps and the track was not ready when they dropped the green. It was an immediate yellow but cars where stacking up and passing then realizing the yellow was out. Race control messed up that one pretty badly. It took another ten minutes to clean the track. Finally it really is time for a start and we go green for real. Racerguy is driving smooth as always and moving up. He brings the car from 87th out of 131 cars there to a respectable 39th when the first incident happens. A car spins and hits our rf wheel. Racerguy didn't think much of it but they flagged him in anyway. While in the penalty box we realize the rf is going flat. I did not see it then but by the time we get the car up to our spot in the paddock the wheel is destroyed. We slap another wheel on and send him back out. We lost nearly all the spots we gained, dropping to 78th on the board. Sucks but it happens.
The rest of his stint goes great and he brings the car back to pit road and we put in Youngest. He is running great and the car is showing no signs of any issues from the earlier contact. He starts making up ground and we get all the way up to 54th. Then I get a radio call. "The car is on fire and stopped running!"
What?!!! I radio back asking if he needs to get out of the car. "I'm trying to decide that" Ok, maybe not such a big fire then? We have to wait for more information and in a few minutes the rollback shows up with him in the car. We have had a wiring fire from the passenger side floorboard where the stock PCM harness is. I immediately think the car is done but after Youngest gets some fresh air he jumps in and cuts all the burnt wires out and patches it all up. Start to finish we are off the track an hour and a half and drop to 90th.
I suit up and take the car out to see if it will run or not. It struggles and will only get up to 45, so I bring it right back in. Youngest thinks he knows exactly what is wrong and jumps in again and patches one more wire. I go out and the car is spot on. I start clicking off laps and trying some things the guys said to do to improve on my lap times. There's a few parts where I just need to be more aggressive and roll through and trust the car more. I pick up about four seconds off my best time and am pretty pleased by that. The car runs flawless for the rest of my stint and I bring it back to pit road for the crew to fuel and driver change. We put Manny in the car and send him out. He's running some fast laps and really pushing the car. All the sudden we realize we do not see the car going by. One of the other teams say our car is in the wall on the front stretch. Manny comes over the radio "I FUBAR'ed it" Great, The front stretch at Barber is one of the places I have noted will bite you pretty hard. I have seen a few Lemons cars get really messed up there including a 63 Valiant last year. I am expecting the worst when the roll back comes by with the car for the second time this day.
It's pretty bad. The nose is knocked sideways, the steering is all out of sorts, a closer look reveals the lf tie rod is broken. The right rear is all messed up, the wheel is pushed so far forward it is into the quarter panel and won't even turn. We put the car up on jack stands and look it over. Not good. But there's glimmers of hope. The radiator is not broke. The engine is still fine. The core of the car seems square. And we have almost an entire Miata in parts in totes in our trailer. Maybe we can fix this. I start dragging out parts and we start changing them. The tie rod on the front is soon changed and we now have both wheels pointing the same direction. Youngest takes the nose off and straightens the brackets that hold it and the splitter in place and adds a whole lot of zip ties.
On the rear it just keeps going and going deeper. We change the knuckle, the lower control arm and the upper. We spend a long time saving the bolt that goes through the lower control arm and knuckle, we do not have another. This one is bent and has questionable threads too. In true lemons never say die fashion we beat it out of the bent parts, straighten it and when we cannot find the correct die to chase the threads we use one that is close and pray it works. It does, but then we get it all back together and realize even with all the parts replaced we still have two inches of rear toe. Just a wee more than the 1/16th we started with.
Turns out the rear subframe is bent, so we all go out and start walking the pits looking to borrow a port a power. This small hydraulic jack comes with rams and other attachments and has a pump attached to a hose so you can jack and bend parts that are bent like ours. We actually end up borrowing two after searching almost every team that is still around. It's getting dark, rain is moving in after midnight and the clock is ticking on the car being done. Is it fixable or is the damage terminal? There are three guys under the car jacking and measuring and I am handing them parts and tools and making a run for food.
In a dramatic fashion, they pull it out. I run for food and they finally announce the car is perfect. I think they worked until nearly midnight, but everything they measured was on the money. It was an amazing effort and a huge comeback. We all fall into an exhausted sleep wondering if the car will drive good tomorrow or did we miss something important.
The next morning dawns and as expected its raining. And colder. I cannot emphasize enough just how wet and cold it was. All day long it rained and I think the temps dropped. Made for a miserable day, pretty sure even a duck would have been unhappy.
I go out first, I had called this stint early on. Sometimes you have to pull the car owner card. It's a two hour stint then a quiet hour then the race resumes.
We gas up the car and I line up. The car seems to drive straight, but it is raining and the track is slippery so who really knows? The car stumbles a bit on accel and I wonder if we outsmarted ourselves with our home made ram air system that sucks air from right below where the left headlight was. It keeps on doing that for a few laps then finally gets better.
Driving in the rain is not without it's challenges. You have to drive very carefully and not push the car too hard. The fun part is the Miata goes straight when you floor it so anytime I get a chance I gas it up and go hard to the next corner where I slow down and ease through it. Soon enough another issue arises. The windshield starts fogging up. It gets real bad on yellow flags where we all slow down then gets better if I have a good run at speed, but there are times a smart person would have pulled off as you cannot see much at all. But most of us aren't real smart. I can't reach the windshield or I would try to wipe it. The temptation is there to loosen the belts and get enough room to reach but even I am not that crazy. I keep the belts tight but do take off one glove and give it a few swipes under a long yellow then hasten to put the gloves back on. There's probably not much chance of a fire in these conditions but no sense chancing it. I've seen pictures of burns from race car incidents and they aren't pretty.
On one corner I make a mistake, I get off line to let a really aggressive car go by. It's the Party Girl car and they are hyper aggressive. If you would think they would wait to pass until you get through a critical part you'd be wrong, they typically will jam their car in wherever they can and go on. Other fast cars are a bit more respectful and do a better job on the give and take. Not wanting to make an issue, I get over and promptly realize there is zero grip outside on this corner and slide through the grass. I go to penalty and explain what happened. The judge asks if I learned anything, I said "Yes, next time to be a jerk" I might not have used that exact wording but I meant it. The same car also was what indirectly caused the wreck the day before, their aggressive driving was what caused Manny to get the red mist when they did the same thing passing him. He over drove the car after that and lost it. Mental note to drive them the same way going forward, we both can be hyper aggressive and see where that leads. We have a few more cars to build in the driveway if need be.
After my two hours are up, I bring the car in and explain about the terrible fogging and vision issue. Manny goes out after the quiet hour and slides off the track for black flag number two. It's just very nasty out there and cars are going off all the time. We fix up a ice scraper with a rag tied to it to give the driver a method of clearing the fog. It's primative but way better than nothing. The drivers report they used it quite a bit the rest of the day. It's just gloomy and the race is going on, but cars are hydroplaning if they get into the water which is starting to pool on parts of the track. The rest of us are watching from inside Manny's car with the heat on, it's gotten that cold and wet.
We are so far behind now we aren't bothering to suit up and go to pit lane. Rather we bring the car up to the pumps, get the driver out and fuel and put the next driver in. It's still raining and not having to get anymore wet than necessary is a plus. Racerguy gets flagged in after he's run about half his stint and he has no idea why. Apparently the cameras show what they thought was contact in the corner, he says he got real close and braked hard to avoid it. The car shows no new signs of contact. The judge tells us one more flag and he's parking us for the rest of the day. Over contact that someone thought they saw on camera that apparently never happened. (I went to look this up on our go pro footage but the chip glitched and we had no footage)
Racerguy goes out and finishes. He reports the same as Manny, the track is getting increasingly treacherous. Very few cars are getting around good, if you have a front wheel drive with skinny tires, today was your day. I saw a escort wagon running laps as fast as us and later the Dodge Caravan passed us.
Youngest goes out and after about 15 minutes I notice the lap counter is not updating. I look outside the trailer and he is in the car, sitting there. We go out and he announces he cannot drive the car anymore, it's sideways all the time. I ask if he wants to load the car and he said yes. I don't object. We race for the fun of it, and at that point none of us were having fun. We loaded in the rain and left before the race was over. Many other teams had already done the same. Some were gone before the day ever started. We have raced in the rain before but this was the worst conditions I have ever seen on the track. Barber is a top notch facility, it was just such a lingering rain and the temps being below 40 made it miserable. The vision and grip levels seemingly got worse as the day went on and the water built up and the temps dropped. We saw a lot of big problems and overcame many. Probably if we were not so exhausted from fixing the car and were in the hunt for anything we might have stayed until the end. As it were, we dropped from 65th to 67th or so. Time to rebuild and get dried out and ready for the next race.
submitted by halfkeck to TalesFromAutoRepair [link] [comments]


2024.05.13 15:04 Crazy-Concern8080 Accept

Well, this is the final story I can think of for Naeriu. If there are any more situations you'd like to see him in, be sure to comment on them and I’ll see if I can’t work with them. I’ve been inspired by comments before, it can absolutely happen again.
The first story is here: Endure
The second story is here: Persist
And the thrid story's here: Strive
Being accepted is something everyone wants to be, but sometimes people can’t accept you for who you are. Sometimes, in the most heartbreaking cases, it’s someone you are close to.
Shout out to SpacePaladin15 for the universe.
Thank you JulianSkies for proofreading.
Memory Transcription Subject: Naeriu, Kolshian Missionary
Date [Standardized Human Time]: January 11, 2150
I couldn’t help but feel nervous as I rode in the shuttle. Even if I knew I was safe here, I wasn’t scared of anything physically dangerous. This planet had gone mostly untouched by the wars that had plagued the outside universe, left alone orbiting an insignificant star in an unimportant location. The only thing useful in this solar system was the planet itself, an agro-world devoted to having as many high-yield farms as possible.
It was a beautiful marble from above, swirling vibrant colors painting the surface intricately. The polar oceans almost made it look like a tennis ball, funnily enough. I could even see some of the larger farms from above, large patches of brown, miscolored green, or any other number of colors broadcasting what vegetables were being grown.
Where there weren’t farms, there were prairies or small forests, the only refuge for any animal, predator or not, to avoid the ire of the farmers. Herbivores would ruin crops and carnivores would taint them, there was no winning against the farmers. However, in recent years, there has been an ecological comeback with the help of the Humans.
Forests were a little bit larger, pests were killed a little less ruthlessly, and the farmers' hatred toward Humans grew evermore. While they were not outright hostile, I could only be thankful I had not heard what they had said behind closed doors.
This planet, Toktkala, was once my home, but now it couldn’t feel any more strange to me. I could only pray for more strength for what I was about to face, being a supporter of Humans and an open believer of Christ was sure to have me ostracized by everyone. I had a feeling that there were only two refuges for me; the UN embassy, something that was never not swarmed with protesters, and my childhood home.
That was the reason my stomach felt like it was turned inside out, I had finally found the time to find my family again. It wasn’t difficult, they hadn’t moved away from the house, but I had broken all contact with them after the Battle of Earth. That was fourteen Earth years ago, fifteen on Toktkala. Fifteen years of no contact, left wondering the fate of their oldest son, I couldn’t fathom what that could have done to them. I wondered if they were even still together, after losing my little sister they were already stressed, losing me might have broken them. It made me feel guilty already, and I didn’t even know if it was true. Hopefully, they managed to stay together for my little brother, Bolop always deserved the best.
I wonder if he hated me, blaming me for our parents’ divorce. I wonder if he hated me for leaving for the military in the first place. I wonder what my parents will say, seeing their dead son on their doorstep.
The uncertainty ate away at me, but the only way to cure it was to face it, and I intend to face it head-on and with full honesty. I’ll take everything they throw at me on the chin and keep walking, relieved no matter the outcome.
The shuttle touched down in one of the very few spaceports built on the planet, all of which were humble in the worst way. Frequent traffic wasn’t a problem, so they had all been equipped with the bare necessities to be classified as a spaceport. Most were little more than a pad, a few administrative buildings, and a luggage check. The only one with any extra expense was located in the only city on the entire planet, on the complete opposite side of where I needed to be.
However, the underfunded port might have been a boon in the end, as it let me experience the rural air sooner. Nostalgia flooded my mind as the familiar scent reignited memories from my childhood. Running through fields with my mother, watching the sunset with my father, eating a home-cooked bowl of kotla on the porch, climbing the lone tree in the backyard when I was sad, swinging from it when I was happy, there were so many melancholic memories tied to this smell, and I would never get tired of them.
I gathered what little luggage I brought with me and waited for a bus to pick me up, mixed feelings caused me to stare off into the distance. It felt great to finally be back in the warm, welcoming, slightly humid air of Toktkala, but that just meant I was one step closer to facing my family. I wouldn’t and couldn’t back down, but that didn’t make me any less nervous.
“Feeling okay, deary? You look like you’re about to run away.”
I blinked as I turned to face the lady, slightly surprised that anyone would bother talking to me. She was an older Kolshian, decorated in old-timey jewelry and carrying an expensive-looking bag. I could tell from her thick accent that she was a Toktkala native, the people from her tended to take their time in everything, including speaking.
I accepted the distraction with a sigh, causing her to sit down and pay attention. “I’m fine, just nervous.”
“Aww, what for? I don’t know anyone who could be down in weather like this. Haven't had a nice day like this in a while.”
“Well, you see, I haven’t been home in a long time. Fifteen years, give or take.”
“Oh deary, that’s wonderful! I’m so glad you could finally make it home.”
“Yeah… I guess. It’s just, what has changed since I left. I haven’t said or heard a single word from my parents since the war, I don’t even know if they are still together. I-I know where they live, but that’s about all I know about my parents. What if they don’t recognize me? What if they hate me for leaving and not saying anything? And I’ve changed so much, I’m not sure they would even accept me for who I am now. I know I have to do this, I’m not backing down no matter what, but that doesn’t make me any less anxious.”
She was quiet for a long moment. “That is quite the predicament. Fifteen years is a long time to not speak with someone, but always remember, it is never too late to reconnect.”
I couldn’t help but chuckle and grab my cross. “Kinda like me and…”
“What was that deary?”
“Uh, nothing important. Now that I’ve given you my side, I think it’s only fair you give me yours.”
She shifted on the bench. “Oh well, there’s not much to say. Just going back to town after a visit off planet. A buyer was looking to buy some crops in bulk and I went out to meet him for some discussion. Really nice boy, almost as old as you.”
“Ma’am, I’m thirty-two.”
She waved a tentacle in chucked. “Well everyone is a boy when you are as old as me, deary.”
I let myself laugh. “Oh you can’t be that old, you barely look a day over sixty!”
She pressed a tentacle to her chest. “Well, I’m flattered. I guess there still are some gentlemen in this world.”
“Oh I think there are plenty, they just don’t get the chance to act like them.”
She tilted her head to the side. “That’s one way of looking at it.”
We fell into silence for a moment, but with no bus in sight, it would be better to keep talking. “If you don’t mind my asking, what kind of crops do you sell?”
She clicked her tongue. “Oh, all kinds, but I think the one you're asking about is the stuff I talked about earlier, am I right?”
I raised a tentacle as if I were surrendering, noticing a bus cresting over the horizon as I did. “You got me.”
“That was some dlut, you know the stuff. Tall stocks, bright purple, sweetish tasting fruit.”
I leaned back. “Ah, dlut. I bet that would be good in a kotla in this weather.”
“It sure would. I just can’t get over who I was selling to.”
I turned to face her head-on. “And that is?”
“A Human, can you believe that?”
I laughed. “You know? I can actually. I’m…”
I considered my wording carefully. I didn’t want to offend this nice old lady accidentally. After a brief pause, I found the right words. “I’m surprised that someone from Toktkala would even be willing to talk with them though, considering the popular sentiment.”
“Oh I know, and I think it’s just dreadful that those people get so much hatred. I’ll be honest, I was in the same wagon at the beginning, but I came around once they became the only people buying my products. After what was revealed about our history… well, I don’t think I need to tell you of all people how Kolshians were treated.”
“Trust me, I know. I just think it’s kind of ironic that Humans, people we all seemed hell-bent on making hate us, were the first to forgive.”
She sighed. “I just wish some of the other foolhardy people here could see that too. With any luck, your parents are like us.”
I nodded as the bus pulled to a stop. “Yeah, maybe. This was a nice chat, hope you have a wonderful day.”
She waved me off. “With a little luck, we’ll see each other again. Oh, what’s your name.”
I paused and pivoted before I stepped on the bus. “I’m Naeriu, and you are?”
“I’m Moelly. And I hope to see you too.”
I waved to her one final time as the bus accelerated away, feeling much better having talked with someone instead of just dwelling on my feelings. I felt more hopeful about my future now that the idea of my parents not hating Humans was rolling around in my head, it let me believe there was a chance my parents might not disown me. Dad was always supportive of me when I said I wanted to join, he had always had complete faith in the Federation, but Mom might be a little more lenient, even if she also held the Federation in high regard.
I wonder if they became the type to claim the Humans faked it all and Nikonus’ accidental confession was fabricated. There were a lot of those kinds of people still around to this day, almost twenty years after the war ended. I could only pray that they would realize the error in their ways and accept reality sooner rather than later.
I stared out of the window for a long time, passing the time by reliving every field, tree, and house that passed by the window. I couldn’t pull my eyes away even for a second, everything looked so familiar, but at the same time, just different enough to make it strange. Some things were out of place or missing, while others were just how I remember them. It was surreal to see how my childhood home had changed, and I could feel my anxiety bubbling back up just as we reached the stop I needed to get off at.
I tugged the suitcase behind me, thanking and tipping the bus driver as I left. He responded with a simple huff of acknowledgment before driving off. I watched him for only a moment before turning around.
At the end of a long driveway, standing just as tall as I remember it, flanked on both sides by fields of budding crops, was my childhood home. Vines crawled up one side of the house, a decoration that Mom refused to cut down despite Dad’s objections. There was an ever-so-slightly rusted shed peeking out from the back, inside should be all of the farming equipment used to control the drones and irrigation systems. Even further behind that, there was a tall, lonely-looking tree with a small swing hanging from one of its sturdy branches.
Everything looked the same, down to the plants on the window sill.
I decided I needed to pray one last time before I met my parents, silently mumbling to myself as I did. I asked God for the wisdom to know what to say, for the courage to face their questions, and for the strength to stand tall if they ridicule me for my path in life. I had prayed like this many times before, and I was surely going to continue praying after.
I finished the prayer with the sign of the cross and a gentle kiss on the cross around my neck as I reached the porch, looking up with hesitation as I climbed the steps. I set my luggage aside and took a deep breath, staring at the doorbell. Every question and wandering thought I had raced through my mind, causing me to stand stunned for at least a minute until finally I shook them out of my head and pressed the button with all of my might.
A strange sense of release and simultaneous anxiety flooded me. There was no turning back now, even if I ran away they could still easily see me. All I could do now was stand here and face the music.
There was a commotion inside, some thumping going down the stairs, and a loud voice calling out. “Hold on, I’m coming.”
It was Mom’s voice. Even if it was muffled through the walls and slightly more hoarse than the last time I heard it, it was still Mom’s. The first of the doors was opened, but Mom hadn’t seen me through the glass one yet. She was looking off to the side, setting something on the side table as she spoke.
“I’m sorry it took so long, Bullo, I was in the middle of making a meal.”
She reached up and began opening the glass door, only to stop in her tracks as she finally saw me.
“Who…”
I could see the gears turning in her head, and the slow realization dawned upon her of just who I was. Tears began welling up in her eyes and her mouth hung open. With a quiet sob, she covered her mouth, trying to form any words. She could only cry and shake her head before stepping forward and hugging me warmly.
“I always knew…”
I returned the hug eagerly, rubbing the back of her head. I tried to find words to convey the flurry of emotions, but couldn’t. “I’m back, Mom.”
She pulled away for a second, wiping a final few tears in her eyes. Suddenly her demeanor changed from overwhelming joy to concern. “Where have you been? Oh, my little baby, where have you been?”
I sucked in a nervous breath. “On Earth, Sillis, Fahl, Skalga… I’ve been everywhere.”
I could see her freeze up for a second. “Then… then why didn’t you come back?”
“I… I felt like you wouldn’t accept me. And every day I didn’t return, I felt like you would only grow to hate me.”
Mom stepped forward, caressing my face with a gentle touch. “Sweetie, I could never hate you. There is nothing you could ever do to make me hate you.”
“I… Thank you, Mom, you don’t know how much I needed to hear that.”
She stepped back and held the door open. “Of course, sweetie, now come inside. You have to tell me all about, well, everything that has happened to you, from the beginning. And while you are at it, I’ll finish making dinner. I bet you missed your mom’s kotla, didn’t you?”
I laughed as I tugged my luggage through the door. “More than you will ever know. Every other bowl I’ve had has left me wanting something more, but I know that the only place I could find it was here.”
Mom laughed as she pulled out a few plates. “Love, a mother’s specialty. Is that the reason you came back, just for some food?”
I sat at the dinner table, taking in the house around me. It would be considered old-timey by modern standards, though that just meant that not everything was super high-tech. There were still rustic aspects to my house, pictures still in frames and not screens, religious symbols that have been passed down for generations, wood used over metal in some places, and rustic pieces of tech that my father refused to change, claiming that it would outlast all of us. It was old, slightly musky, and it was home.
“That’s not the only reason, it’s more like a bonus. I just kept thinking about home, how I effectively abandoned you, and I needed to come back to give you closure. Thoughts of home would pop into my head at the most random times, like signs that I should come back, so I followed.”
Mom turned around from the stove, setting down a steaming pot on the counter before sitting next to me. “Well, I am certainly glad you decided to do so. Your father and I have both been torn up by what we thought was your death, having you here now is a blessing for us both.”
“Speaking of, where is Dad?”
Mom waved a tentacle. “Oh, he’s off protesting at the embassy again. At his age, he should be staying home and watching the field, but he’s a stubborn oaf and when he’s determined to do something he does it, you know that. I told him to give it up and to come home, but he resents the Humans and won't rest ‘till they are off this planet, maybe not even then.”
I closed my eyes for a moment and looked away. This was the worst outcome. Not only did Dad not like the Humans, it sounded like he outright hated them. I’m glad I prayed because I had a feeling that a shouting match was on the horizon.
“Is something wrong?”
I sighed. “Well, we might have… conflicting opinions on the Humans. I’m worried that we might fight.”
Mom sucked in a breath as if she was preparing a response, but it died in her throat before she could speak. She took a moment to recollect her thoughts, confusion growing in her eyes, before shaking her head.
“It’ll be fine. Your father loves you, no matter who you’ve become. You will always be his son, our son. There is nothing that can change that. I don’t know the experiences you've had, maybe I don’t want to know, but I know that you’re an adult now and can choose your own path, even if I don’t agree with it wholly.”
I grabbed Mom’s tentacle. “Thank you, Mom, you have no idea how much that means to me. I was so worried that you wouldn’t accept me, it was eating me alive. I just hope that Dad feels the same way. He is stubborn, you said it yourself.”
“I know he-”
The sound of the garage door opening cut Mom off and caused my nerves to flare up again. Through the walls, I could hear him shut the car door and stomp his way into the house. He had always been a heavy-stepper, but these seemed a little heavier than normal. Maybe he had just put on a little weight since I last saw him.
“Muola, I’m-”
Dad froze as he turned into the dining room, stopping suddenly as he saw me. He looked me up and down, putting the pieces together in his mind. He dropped a bag to the floor carelessly and took a half-step forward.
“Naeriu… you’re… you're alive!”
He rushed forward as fast as his old limbs could carry him, meeting me with a hug just as I stood from my seat. He rocked me back and forth, blubbering with joy and trying to bury his head in my chest.
“My son’s alive!”
He pulled himself back. “Where have you been? I thought…”
His breath hitched in his throat. “I thought you were dead.”
I held his tentacle with compassion. “I’m sorry, I was just so… I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be, all that matters now is that you are back with us, safe and sound.”
We stared at each other for a moment before Dad couldn’t sit still any longer, almost jumping toward the table. “You have to tell me all about it. Start to finish. You must have some interesting stories for us, right? I mean, you were gone for fifteen years, there has to have been something interesting going on, right? You could start with the story of that necklace, it looks pretty interesting. Is it something from Sillis?”
I glanced down to the cross on my neck as I pulled out a chair for him, sitting back down in mine with a huff after I did. “Not quite. It’s a later story. Why don’t we start from the beginning, like you said?”
Dad flung a tentacle in excitement. “Sure, yeah, from the beginning.”
I took in a deep breath. “After my last call with you, the Battle of Earth started. There wasn’t much I could do with my training, so all I could do was watch and wait. I was scared, and I only got more scared when boarding alarms went off. After they captured the ship, we had to evacuate. With no other option, I had to get in a life pod with the Humans.”
Both Mom and Dad gasped. “That must have been horrible, sweetie, how did you get out?”
Dad shook his head. “That must have been a terrible experience. I couldn’t imagine being trapped in such a cramped space with those monsters. Muola is right, how did you get out?”
I brushed past the casual Human-hate and continued with my story. “I didn’t. We landed in the northern part of the planet and it was late fall. All you need to know is that it was very, very cold. We had to travel with the Humans to avoid freezing to death, clinging to the belief that maybe we would be handed off to an authority later on and not be eaten. In the end, that was the best choice I had ever made. We made it to a cabin, but not after losing two others, a Harchen named Tekt and a Krakotl named Kulilim. It was just me and Kotern.”
Mom gasped. “How is Kotern? You two seemed like such good friends.”
I didn’t respond immediately, letting Dad’s mind run wild. “Did… T-they ate him, didn’t they?”
I shook my head. “No, in fact, they never even hit us. For the next few days, all we did was talk with each other. Just Me, Kotern, the Humans, and a Venlil named Leenek that we had picked up along the way. We just sat and talked.”
I could see the confusion building on Dad’s face. “Were they threatening you?”
I shook my head again. “Only one, Billy, the leader. He was the only one to make any threats, but he never acted on it. He was just angry. Some never even spoke to me, a few had very deep conversations, but only one ever made threats. One, named Brandon, talked to me about God for a while, after I told him that he had probably lost his entire family.”
Dad tilted his head in confusion, but didn’t make any comments, letting me continue with my story. “One day, Kotern goes out to gather some wood. The Humans had rope so we tied it on to him, but he didn’t come back. They sent a soldier named Valya out to find him, and comforted me the entire time he was gone. Around an hour passes and Valya returns, but Kotern isn’t with him.”
Mom leaned forward, engrossed in the story. “So what happened?”
I sighed. “I hid away in a room for a while, depressed that I had lost my friend, when I heard a bunch of arguing. I come out to see what’s happening, and Kotern is there, standing in the middle of the room, waving a pistol around and screaming for them to give me back to him. There were a bunch of people with him, led by a captain named Suklal. They wanted the cabin for shelter, but it ended up in a gunfight. Kotern died first.”
Dad sunk his head in sadness. “He was such a nice boy, you two seemed to get along so well. It’s a shame the Humans did that to him.”
“It wasn’t the Humans. Suklal shot him in the head after Kotern wouldn’t fall back. The Humans only started shooting after Suklal shot first.”
I let out a deep sigh, remembering how everything played out right in front of me. Even now his death brings tears to my eyes, he was such a nice man, he had just been misguided by the horrible teachings of the Federation. Teachings that I knew my Mom and Dad still clung to.
Wanting something to take my mind off of his death, I looked over to Mom. “I think I want some kotla now.”
Mom let out a breath. “Of course sweetie, I was wondering when you would ask.”
Mom got up to get some dishes, but Dad kept staring at me with a growing look of concern and confusion. “Hey son, what’s your opinion on the Humans.”
The bowls in Mom’s hands clattered slightly as everyone froze. I was hoping that I would be able to ease Dad into my opinion, but it seemed he wanted to take the more direct approach. “Well, I’m going to be honest, I like them. In fact, I love them. I love them the same way that I love everyone else. I wouldn’t be here without them, I wouldn’t be the man I am here today without them. It was a Human who pulled me out of the gutter and gave me direction in life.”
Dad sunk his head slightly. “They got to my son…”
I raised a tentacle. “Now, Dad, they didn’t get me. I came to this decision on my own. I looked at all the facts and saw that they were just as sapient as everyone else. They feel empathy, sadness, and regret just like all of us, and not just watered-down versions.”
He closed his eyes and raised his head. “Son, it’s going to be fine, we'll get you some help a-and cure this brainwashing.”
“I’m not brainwashed, Dad, that doesn’t exist. I’m-”
I sighed. “I’m not being controlled by anyone, I’m still the same Naeriu, just older and with more experienced. I’ve been gone for fifteen years, I’m going to change a little, but I’m still me. I just want to come back and reconnect.”
Dad stuttered in his own breath. “But the Humans tried to kill you.”
“Only after we attacked them first. And I forgave them long ago. A-”
I cut myself off before I told Dad that I was a Christian, that might just send him over the edge. I’d have to save that for later, when he’s calmed down a little.
“Can we eat something before we get too into this, please?”
Mom set the bowls down, eagerly accepting the distraction. “Of course, the kotla should be finished setting now anyway.”
Mom reached over and grabbed a wooden ladle, scooping up hearty spoonfuls into the bowls before setting them in front of Dad and me. I could feel the warm steam hit my face, carrying the savory taste of the various vegetables with them. Among the healthy chunks, I could spot the purplish color of dlut floating, slightly lighter now that it had been boiled.
“It looks amazing Mom, I can’t wait to try it.”
But just as I raised my tentacle, I froze. I glanced at my father, who was watching me with concern, confusion, and a little bit of fear. “What’s wrong son?”
I had never eaten a meal without praying beforehand. Sure, I might have sped up a prayer if I was excruciatingly hungry or late for something, but I always found a way to include it. Dad would freak out if he found out about my faith, it would start a full-blown fight.
Should I skip this one time to avoid making a scene?
I blinked and shook my head, feeling disappointed in myself. No, I had never missed a prayer before now, and I wasn’t about to start. I am not ashamed of who I am, I am a Christian and I am proud of it. If that means that my father is going to fight with me, then so be it. I don’t care if he doesn’t accept me, I don’t need him to. I am a grown man, and even if the words he says hurt, I know that I am being true to myself and God.
I am not skipping my prayer.
Slowly, I raised my tentacle and tapped my forehead, before lowering it to my chest, then my left shoulder followed by my right. “Bless us, O Lord, and these Thy gifts, which we are about to receive from Thy bounty. Through Christ our Lord. Amen.”
I repeated the sign of the cross and closed my prayer, keeping my eyes closed for a moment before grabbing the spoon and taking a bite. “It tastes amazing, Mom.”
She was too confused to speak, but Dad wasn’t. “What was that?”
“A prayer.”
“To who?”
“Christ.”
Dad shared a glance with Mom. “I don’t recognize any god named Christ.”
“That is because He is from Christianity, a Human religion.”
Everyone went silent for a moment, the words I said still ringing in their ears. Mom’s confusion only deepened, while Dad’s turned to anger. “What?! You-You worship a Human god?”
“Yes, I worship God. I am a Christian, a believer in God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Spirit.”
Dad shook his head and laughed. “You’re not kidding… You really mean it. H-how?”
“I was at the lowest point in my entire life, Kotern had just died, I was alone on an alien planet, I was hungry, thirsty, tired, homeless, and broke. A Human named Ben brought me to a church, the St. Louis Cosmic Christian Church, and that’s where I found God. I opened myself up to Him, and I’ve never felt more safe in my entire life.”
Mom remained stunned, falling back into a seat while Dad stood up. “I-I don’t… I can’t believe this. I cannot accept this. You’re not my son. Naeriu would never… H-he’d never…”
Mom leaned forward. “Solue, calm down. Take a deep breath and-”
“I can’t calm down! Not after that reveal. My son worships Humans. My son…”
“No, Dad, I don’t worship Humans, I worship God.”
“A Human god! Who is a Human! I don’t know if this is better or worse than you coming out as a Linked Chains member, at least they don’t think predators are gods! What does your god call for, hmm? Killings? Blood sacrifices?”
“Dad, hold on, slow down and give me a chance.”
“No. I want you out of my house, now.”
Mom gasped. “Solue! That is our son.”
Dad didn’t even glance at Mom, ignoring the building tears in his eyes. “No, he’s not. He’s some freak trying to impersonate our son. I hate to tell you Muola, but our son died in that war, and he’s never coming back.”
His words sank into my heart, causing me to wince away and take a deep breath. With my eyes closed, barely holding back the tears, I set my spoon down and stood slowly from the table. “If that’s what you think, then I won’t bother you any longer. Mom, it was wonderful to have your food one last time. Dad, I’m sorry that you can’t accept the facts. I’m glad I could at least give you some closure, goodbye.”
I turned to gather what little luggage I had as Mom frantically jumped up from her seat. “Naeriu, wait! Just give us some time to talk, Solue and I are just confused, is all. Please, wait here, for me.”
I paused at the door and sighed. “Anything for you, Mom. I’ll be by the tree in the back.”
As soon as I closed the door behind me, I started to sob. Dad’s words had hurt me more than I imagined they would, twisting my insides around like he knew exactly what to say to hurt me the worst. I stumbled my way around the house, wiping tears away with each step. I could hear Mom and Dad arguing loudly through the wall, both of them screaming with each other over what to think about the situation, though the words were muffled enough that I couldn’t understand them. By the time I reached the tree, there was no hope of me catching a single word.
I wiped away a few final tears and looked up into the tree. The first thing I noticed was that the branch I had fallen from long ago had finally healed, however, it was fixed in a completely new direction. I can vividly remember when I fell from that branch and broke my leg. I had never seen my parents so worried in their entire lives. Dad must have broken every traffic law on the planet to get me as quickly as he could to a hospital. Mom told me that he couldn’t sit still while they were x-raying me, every second that passed felt like an eternity for him.
He cares for me, a lot, and that makes it difficult for him to accept that I’ve gone on my own path now. Of course, I’d be ecstatic to have him and Mom join me, but something told me that they wouldn’t be diverting from their generational ways. They were both rooted in the past, and the tradition that came with it, and that shaped their worldview to a rigid stance where everything stays the same. At least Mom was a little more accepting, though I knew she felt about the same as Dad did, she just didn’t vocalize it.
With a sigh, I slid against the tree, looking out over the fields as the sun set in the distance. It seemed as if my worst fears were coming true, they wouldn’t accept me for who I was. I had changed too much from the last time they had seen me, I might as well have been a new person to them.
After a long moment, Mom finally exited the house through the back door, closely followed by Dad. I stood with a huff as they approached, preparing myself for whatever they would say.
Mom spoke first. “Sweetie, uhm, we are sorry for the fight. It’s just, well, we have a hard time accepting what you say to be true.”
Mom paused for a moment and Dad picked up where she left off. “The last time we saw you, you were still just a boy, barely an adult, and you held… beliefs that aligned with ours.”
Mom glanced between Dad and me. “And now seeing you here in front of us, the age we were when we last saw you, with beliefs that completely go against everything we believed, that our religion taught…”
Dad sighed. “It’s a little much, son, and I’m… I’m sorry I… lashed out like that.”
I looked between them and stepped forward. “Mom, Dad, I don’t expect you to understand me, especially not on the first day of me being back, but just know that you accepting me means more than you will ever know. Thank you, and I love you, both of you.”
I embraced them both in a big group hug, rocking back and forth. Dad only hugged me for a brief moment before pulling away, but Mom clung to me for a long time. After she finally pulled away, she sniffled once more and wiped away a few final tears.
She laughed slightly and shook her head. “I just hope you can forgive us.”
I couldn’t help but melt at Mom’s concern. “Mom, Dad, you never even needed to ask. I forgave you as soon as the words were said. I love you both with all my heart, it will take more than harsh words to prevent me from forgiving you.”
I smiled. “Though, I wish I could have gotten some more kotla before it went cold.”
Dud huffed and turned around. “It should still be warm in the pot, but you better hurry.”
Mom and I watched him disappear into the house, not looking back to see if we were following him at all. Mom sighed before speaking. “He’ll come around, you know he will. He’s just principled. He has his way that he thinks is right and there is not a lot you can do to change that.”
I nodded. “I know that, but I’m sure he’ll be more accepting once he gives me a chance to explain what I believe in. And tell the rest of my story.”
“That will be nice to hear. I’d love to understand what you have been doing all of this time that prevented you from coming home.”
I opened my mouth to respond, only to realize something. “Oh! Now that I think about it, where is Bolop?”
Mom sighed. “He moved away, wanted to be free from Totkala’s chains, he said. Just like you, only he didn’t join the military, thankfully. Just moved away. Haven’t had much contact with him, as far as I know he’s on Fahl, but you know him. He can’t sit still to save his life, he might be all the way in Sivkit territory for all we know.”
“But you still have his info?”
“Yes, but with the time it takes for a message to reach him and the distance he has to travel to get to us…”
“I understand, but I’d still like to have it. I’d like to set up a meeting time sometime later.”
Mom stepped up the stairs to the back door, but paused when I didn’t follow her in. “Something wrong sweetie? The kotla is only going to get colder.”
“Nothing’s wrong, Mom, I just want a second to be alone. I’ll be right in.”
She nodded understandingly and slipped inside, leaving me alone to reflect. I turned around to face the sunset, taking a deep breath as it passed below the horizon slowly. My life had been completely turned around since I left home all those years ago. I became a soldier, attacked a planet, survived the freezing Alaska wilderness, lost my closest friend, and fell into a deep depression, even losing contact with my family. But it was anything but bad, from there I built my life back from nothing, found my faith in God, traveled all across the galaxy doing missionary work, met and talked with an Arxur, only to return home to my family finally. I’ve had some extreme ups and heart-wrenching downs, never knowing just what would happen next, but even now I don’t have any regrets.
Even when I’m being ridiculed for my faith or spat on for my species, I don’t regret a thing. I accept the challenges, uncertainty, and hate, even welcome it, because I know that I am living my best life.
I let out a content breath, smiled a warm smile, and turned to open the door, welcoming whatever would come next.
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2024.05.13 14:56 duddlered Grimoires & Gunsmoke: Operation Tolkien Ch. 55

“T-this! This is madness!” Count Harmswid, one of the very few Human nobles of the Seraphic Empire, bellowed as his hand slammed into the table, sending scrolls flying onto the floor of his luxurious tent. “You’d be leaving me defenseless! I already have a manpower shortage, and now you’d deprive me of not just Wyverns but all of my mana users!?”
Standing across from him, seemingly unphased and unbothered by the outburst, was Tharivol, the Duchesses Dark Elf spymaster. Tharivol remained stoic as Count Harmonswid's face turned a shade of deep red; the veins on his neck bulged with every word. As the tirade continued, spittle started to fly from the human’s mouth, landing on the polished surface of the table and even on Tharivol's dark cloak. Yet, the spymaster's demeanor did not change; there was no sign of disgust, no flinch, no reaction whatsoever.
“Do you truly expect me to comply with such an insane request!? You and that damned charlatan have both lost your minds!” The Count sneered before spitting on the floor. “I cannot, and I shall not!”
Count Harmswid's rage seemed to swell within him, growing more intense with each passing moment. "I'll drag both you and that insufferable wench before the Court of Houses!" he thundered, his voice echoing off the high walls of the chamber. "You think you can force a noble of my standing to forfeit his property and forces unjustly? The court will see you stripped of your titles, your lands confiscated, and the Duchess fined! Perhaps you would even find yourself exiled, you insufferable curr!"
The air in the room grew heavy, charged with the count's threats and the tension of the confrontation. Yet, through it all, Tharivol remained as impassive as ever, his expression never wavering from its cold neutrality.
Once, the count's rant had finally run its course, leaving him panting and glaring across the table. "Do you truly intend not to comply with the Duchess's order?" Tharivol's voice was so calm and devoid of emotion that it seemed as if he was simply discussing the weather.
"NO!" The count's response was a furious shout, his hands slamming down onto the table with such force that it splintered beneath them. "I will not bend the knee to such outrageous demands!"
Unphased by the outburst, Tharivol eyes scanned the room, looking at all the Count's personal guards in attendance. Two mages and six mana-capable knights stood uncomfortably against the wall of the tent, just behind the count. "Is there nothing that will convince you otherwise?" The Dark Elf asked, bringing his eyes back to the Count. “Coin? Concessions? Favors?”
The count's face twisted with hatred at the mere suggestion of compromise. "I'd sooner turn my blade towards the Duchess herself than comply with anything that whore demands!" he spat venomously, the words dripping with disdain and loathing.
Tharivol simply nodded as if the count's refusal and insults were nothing more than he had expected. "Very well," he said, his voice still calm and unbothered, before looking behind him to two of his own guards who accompanied him.
These individuals wore unassuming attire, their features obscured behind black mosaic masks that shifted and morphed in subtle ways. Anyone looking at the masks would find their gaze unfocused, slipping across them as if they were merely part of the background. Beneath their dark cloaks was sleek armor made of a substance unfamiliar to the count, a strange blend that was neither quite metal nor leather.
"Take the Count's head and slay any who resist," Tharivol commanded his guards and turned back to the Count.
But before his eyes could leave the two shadow-like figures, their forms surged forward like a wisping darkness, their movements far too fast for any being's eye to comfortably track. Each unsheathed, jagged, wicked-looking blades, as long as one's forearms. There were subtle differences between each weapon, but they all had one thing in common. And that was the fact that they seemed to be forged from a strange blood-red metal that made people’s blood run cold.
The Count and his guard's eyes widened as they flinched back and grabbed at their weapons. However, before they could properly react, these ghosts were faster. Not a single sword left their sheathe, and not a word was chanted before blood was drawn.
As Harmswid opened his mouth to scream, a terrifying silence took hold instead. The world spun into a vortex of chaos, colors blurring and shapes warping as if reality itself was unraveling around him. Orders died on his lips, replaced by a mute plea for his men to save him.
Then, he crashed to the ground, dizzy and disoriented. All sense of time and place dissolved while his mind struggled to comprehend the nightmare unfolding before him. He was trapped in a maelstrom of motion where his guards – his paragons of strength – were being ruthlessly dismembered.
The dark figures moved with a terrifying and unnatural speed. They were blurs of motion armed with those wicked, crimson-tinged blades felling season knights that were once symbols of power and protection as if they were pigs lambs brought to feasts. Their armor offered no resistance as it was pierced effortlessly, and their cries were cut short, transforming into wet gurgles and sickening thuds as they collapsed.
Blood splattered the interior of the tent, a gruesome crimson rain painting what had once been a place of noble authority into a scene of carnage. His loyal protectors, those who were supposed to be his shield, were now nothing but lifeless corpses strewn across the ground.
Through his terror, the Count saw Tharivol out of the corner of his eye. The dark elf stood unmoved, a cold spectator observing a symphony of violence orchestrated by his will. With one more attempted gasp, Harmswid’s world plunged into darkness.
With an air of nonchalant finality, Tharivol strolled forward. He bent down, not a hint of bother on his face, and retrieved the severed head of Count Harmswid. The dark elf held the head aloft, examining it with a clinical detachment as if it were merely a curious specimen and not the remnants of a once powerful man.
"Hopefully, this will deter others from such foolishness,” Tharivol remarked with a chilling yet humored voice. “I’m sure there will be a few more unwise enough to disobey our mistress, but let they and Count Harmswid serve as… palpable enough deterrent to insubordination.”
The Dark Elf spun on his heel and strode confidently towards the tent flap while his masked guards moved like shadows in his wake. What had transpired was as swift as it was horrifying, from start to finish. The once opulent pavilion, a symbol of the Count's authority, had become a macabre slaughterhouse in mere seconds, and the air hung thick with the metallic tang of blood.
Tharivol moved with the grace of a predator. He grasped a fistful of the Count's hair, casually swinging the severed head as he left the carnage behind. Stepping out of the tent, a scene of utter chaos greeted him.
A cataclysmic roar had ripped through the air, an earth-shattering crash rattled the bones of every being within earshot. Tents flailed wildly, torn from their moorings and scattered like scraps of paper by the force of the blast. Men were thrown off their feet, rolling across the dirt in a desperate bid for stable ground.
And the source of such devastation was the immense silhouette of a black dragon. A very old and very powerful black dragon of monstrous proportions. Its landing had been a display of raw power; the earth itself sundered from its weight, cracking and buckling as the beast settled into place, and smoke curled from its nostril as its massive wings slowly unfurled.
To Tharivol's left, a figure stood resolute against the swirling chaos. Clad in heavy plate armor, augmented by the bones and scales of vanquished wyverns. One of the Duchess's most powerful and he was a testament to the mistress’s influence and strength. The great warrior's hide cloak buffeted violently in the maelstrom, yet he remained steadfast, utterly unmoving. His massive sword was driven deep into the earth, his hands folded gently over the hilt, as he stared maliciously towards the soldiers and mages toppling head over heel.
Striding past the warrior, Tharivol moved effortlessly underneath the dragon's colossal wingspan until reached the other side, where a panicked crowd was already gathering. He held up the Count's head for all to see and amplified his cold voice with magic, causing it to reverberate across the encampment.
"YOUR TREACHEROUS LORD IS NO MORE!" Tharivol bellowed, "HE CHOSE DEFIANCE! HE CHOSE DEATH! AND THUS THE FATE OF ALL WHO CHOOSE SELF-INTEREST OVER THE IMPERIAL WAR EFFORT!”
The gathered soldiers gasped, their faces twisting into a mixture of shock, disbelief, and abject terror. This was a display of power unlike anything they had ever witnessed - the swift brutality, the utter disregard for a noble life, and now, the raw might embodied by the massive dragon that cast its imposing shadow over them all.
A wave of shock and outrage swept throughout the Count's retinue. They stood frozen for moments, hands clenching around sheathed weapons, before the reality of the situation sunk in. Their lord was dead, his head held aloft like a grotesque trophy a damned dark elf who stood before them. Yet, their fury was tempered by the sight of the colossal monstrosity looming above the foul man.
Not even the stoic knight captain, his battle-scarred face creased in anguish, dared break the uneasy silence that had descended upon them. His eyes flicked between the severed head and what he considered the largest and oldest dragon he’d ever seen in his damnable life. It was bad enough one of the Duchess’s hero showed up, but with this monster here, all thoughts of vengeance were crushed beneath the weight of gaping maw staring at him.
Tharivol lowered the head, allowing it swinging morbidly in his grip as he marched straight to the knight captain. Halting mere inches from the man, the Dark Elf looked down at him through his nose despite the fact that he was a head shorter than the gruff knight. But how tall one was mattered very little at the current moment. For the poor captain fought to maintain any semblance of calm as his entire body trembled, not from mere cold, but from a primal, instinctual terror.
"Gather your mana users. Assemble the wyverns, good captain." Tharivol commanded, his voice still magically amplified. "You will report to the Duchess in Aldenshore, and with haste. I trust," here Tharivol's gaze flicked meaningfully towards the dragon, "that you understand the urgency of this order?"
His tone carried not a hint of a question, but the chilling finality of an ultimatum. The Duchess' word was now law and the dragon was both enforcer and a grim reminder of the consequences of disobedience. Should the captain hesitate, should he choose to dally, the monstrous creature would likely make a far bloodier example than even the Count's brutal end.
The knight captain could only bow his head and utter a hoarse, "Aye, my lord." Compliance, however grudging, was the only path to survival. Defiance meant not just death for himself but the annihilation of his men. No amount of courage or pride could bridge the chasm of power that lay between them.
An expression like a viper's grin spread across Tharivol’s face. A macabre amusement flitted into his eyes as he raised Count Harmswid's head once more, slapping the lifeless cheek in a grotesque mockery of applause. "Very good!" he declared, his amplified voice carrying an undercurrent of cruel delight.
"You shall rest this day and prepare. But," his tone turned as sharp as a dagger, "do not keep us waiting. To delay the Duchess... well, that would be oh so very unwise."
With a final flourish, Tharivol spun on his heel and marched away, but just before the Dark Elf disappeared below the hulking mass of the Dragon, The Knight Captain attempted to rise to his feet. "Wait, my lord!" The man stammered out as his hand reached out.
However, the sudden movement had caught the dragon's attention. With a rumble that reverberated through the encampment, its massive head dipped low. Twin nostrils flared, expelling twin plumes of superheated plasma, as its eyes narrowed, burning with fury.
The knight captain let out a yelp, a terrified sound he hadn't made since childhood. His body recoiled as if struck, and his legs had given way beneath him as he fell on his rear.
Tharivol paused, turning back with feigned concern. His voice dripped with theatrical sympathy, "Oh dear, is there some problem, good captain?" He let the question hang in the air before bursting into a peal of chilling laughter.
With a dramatic gesture, he addressed the knight captain once more. "Well then, Captain, go on! What is it that troubles you so?" There was an odd playfulness in the dark elf's tone that sent chills down every man in the Count’s army’s spine.
Panic surged through the knight captain. Caught between the titanic dragon and the mocking presence of the dark elf, fear threatened to swallow him whole. Each raspy breath seemed to drag against his throat, the super-heated air of the dragon's breath filling his nostrils. It was an intoxicating mix of molten metal and sulfur, a scent that seemed to speak of fiery annihilation.
He scrambled back even further as the dragon's head moved closer. Desperation lent his words a frenzied edge. "W-what of the food stores, my lord? Our gathered supplies? And the men – the rest of the soldiers? Shall they march to Aldenshore with us, or... or remain?" The words tumbled out, laced with the fear of asking the wrong question, of drawing further ire.
Tharivol approached the man before halting a comfortable distance away. The knight captain flinched, averting his gaze from the dragon, and fixing it on the ground and started whispering prayers and reciting passages from the holy text of his god. Tharivol tilted his head, a curious, almost amused glint in his dark eyes.
For a tense moment, he simply observed the knight captain, letting the silence stretch between them before heaving a heavy sigh. “Do you speak of the mundane?" His tone was flippant, laced with a hint of disdain. "Take them, leave them – it is of no concern to me.” He answered, waving his hand dismissively. “Now that you have your answer… do not bother me with such trivial matters again. I have much more pressing concerns and so little time."
As Tharivol walked away, the knight captain scrambled to his feet. “Y-You heard ‘em! Git yer asses movin’ less ya want to be Dragon feed!” The man ordered with fear evident in his voice as the Dark Elf disappeared beneath the dragon. “And send word to the Wyvern camps of our new orders!”
Silence reigned at the order as everyone stood stock still, but everyone was kicked into overdrive with one last snort from the monster. Soldiers, mages, and workers of every type scramble about with panicked efficiency. Carts were hastily loaded, men and women ran to and fro with bundles of supplies, and the injured were loaded onto wagons with utmost care. Within minutes, the once serene camp was transformed into a whirlwind of purposeful chaos.
And as the madness unfolded, in a distant tree line, Coleman and his ODA team watched silently, peering through the optics of their weapons and purpose-built surveillance tools.
“Fuck… is that our target’s head?” Schwarz suddenly spoke up hushedly as he peered through the high-powered optic of his precision rifle. “I think that’s his head…”
Coleman released an exasperated sigh as he watched with a camouflaged high-powered surveillance device as the strange dark-skinned man walked away with the noble's head in hand. “Yep… Yep, that’s his head…” He nearly growled in annoyance. “Damnit…”
"Wait, isn't this a good thing? We don't gotta kill him," Bennett piped up, a note of confusion in his voice.
Elijah cut him off, the usual lighthearted tone gone from his voice. "No, dipshit, we wanted to bag 'em for questioning," he gestured at the chaotic camp with the barrel of his rifle, "and we can’t question a corpse."
“All units, this is Baron actual.” Coleman quietly spoke into his headphones as he informed the litany of multinational special operations forces that were positioned or prowling around in preparation for the assault on this camp. “Change of plans, our targets KIA from internal fighting.”
“Baron actual, this is Warlock actual.” An Australian Special Air Services Regiment (SASR) team came over the net. “That’s a BIG fackin’ cunt, mate... I’m not so sure about this one.”
No one could fault the assessment. That monstrosity of a dragon was well over 100 meters from snout to tail, and hefty enough to tank most of their firepower. "Baron actual, copy that Warlock. Standby, we’re trying to figure something out."
“This is Bravo actual. Yeah, I have agree with Warlock. This suddenly got a lot more dangerous. I don’t think the operation’s worth it with this thing hanging around." A new voice came over the net belonging to the Polish Commandos, the Jednostka Wojskowa Komandosów (JWK), and gave his opinion on the matter.
The chatter from other teams confirmed the general sentiment. They came in relatively light hoping to do a lightning raid and bug out. Engaging this creature felt like a suicide mission. Sure they could hit with every Javelin or Anti-Tank weapon they had, but no one was convinced they’d be able to land a killing blow and unless someone got lucky and domed the fucker.
“I can’t believe we’re blue balled by a big fackin’ lizard.” The Aussies voice echoed throughout everyone headphones. “What do ya think? Should we pull out?”
Coleman rubbed a weary hand across his eyes. The Aussie had put it crudely, but the sentiment was spot on. The mission was a bust. The tactical dilemma they faced had become far more complicated with the appearance of these newcomers and their dragon.
“Warlock, hold one.” Coleman responded before leanning back against a fallen tree.
A frustrated and heavy breath left the ODA team leader’s mouth as he popped off his helmet, exposing his hair to the hot summer air. As he contemplated his optins while his hand rubbed across his admittedly greasy hair. It had been quite some time since he had a proper shower and, the dirt was starting to build up.
As he thought of way to continue the mission, every scenario he spun out in his mind unraveled before it could take shape. Assault the camp now? With that dragon in the mix, it was madness. Their firepower was decent, but not against a beast of that size and unknown resilience. The thing would torch them before they knew what was going on.
Sneak in, grab what intel they could? Nah… that was stupider than whatever some private fresh out of bootcamp would think up. The goal was not to be decisively engaged.
The Poles and Aussies had a point. Maybe the best course of action was to just to bugger off and keep and element here to observe and mark the location for when the ground pounders came in. But that almost felt like it was a waste… Here they had a prime opportunity to turn a village into a clandestine staging point and letting go of that idea felt… wrong.
Just as another sigh left Colemans mouth, an earth-shattering roar split the air. The team leader whipped his head up, expecting the worst case scenario. The dragon had erupted into flury of motion, as the whirlwind of claws, wings, and raw power tookeof, blowing debris across the camp and scattering tents like leaves in a storm.
But it didn't attack.
The gargantuan creature circled for a moment, leaving a sinister shadow against the clear blue sky, before banking and soaring eastwards.
Coleman blinked, momentarily disoriented by the sudden shift in the situation. A hundred thoughts raced through his head. Where was it going? It didn’t notice us? Would it return? But Within seconds, the beast had vanished into the distance.
Then, a flicker of opportunity flashed across his eyes. “This Baron actual, let’s wait a bit and see what happens...” Coleman suggested with a predatory grin spreading across his face.

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2024.05.12 23:02 Celes_Lynx This prophecy from Isaiah is for our generation. These are the last three prophecies, they align with Revelations and the book of Enoch. Even if you aren't religious, or spiritual, I think that you will find these ancient prophecies interesting, considering all that is currently going on right now.

Isaiah 64, this is the our generation remembering the days of glory before the Lord got angry and hid himself away:
"Oh, that you would rend the heavens and come down, that the mountains would tremble before you! As when fire sets twigs ablaze and causes water to boil, come down to make your name known to your enemies and cause the nations to quake before you! For when you did awesome things that we did not expect, you came down, and the mountains trembled before you. Since ancient times no one has heard, no ear has perceived, no eye has seen any God besides you, who acts on behalf of those who wait for him. You come to the help of those who gladly do right, who remember your ways. But when we continued to sin against them, you were angry. How then can we be saved? All of us have become like one who is unclean, and all our righteous acts are like filthy rags; we all shrivel up like a leaf, and like the wind our sins sweep us away. No one calls on your name or strives to lay hold of you; for you have hidden your face from us and have given us over to our sins.
Yet you, Lord, are our Father. We are the clay, you are the potter; we are all the work of your hand. Do not be angry beyond measure, Lord; do not remember our sins forever. Oh, look on us, we pray, for we are all your people. Your sacred cities have become a wasteland; even Zion is a wasteland, Jerusalem a desolation. Our holy and glorious temple, where our ancestors praised you, has been burned with fire, and all that we treasured lies in ruins. After all this, Lord, will you hold yourself back? Will you keep silent and punish us beyond measure?"
Isaiah 65, the Lord explaining why he has been hiding away, and why he is angry:
“I revealed myself to those who did not ask for me; I was found by those who did not seek me. To a nation that did not call on my name, I said, ‘Here am I, here am I.’ All day long I have held out my hands to an obstinate people, who walk in ways not good, pursuing their own imaginations— a people who continually provoke me to my very face, offering sacrifices in gardens and burning incense on altars of brick; who sit among the graves and spend their nights keeping secret vigil; who eat the flesh of pigs, and whose pots hold broth of impure meat; who say, ‘Keep away; don’t come near me, for I am too sacred for you!’ Such people are smoke in my nostrils, a fire that keeps burning all day.
“See, it stands written before me: I will not keep silent but will pay back in full; I will pay it back into their laps— both your sins and the sins of your ancestors,” says the Lord. “Because they burned sacrifices on the mountains and defied me on the hills, I will measure into their laps the full payment for their former deeds.”
This is what the Lord says:
“As when juice is still found in a cluster of grapes and people say, ‘Don’t destroy it, there is still a blessing in it,’ so will I do in behalf of my servants; I will not destroy them all. I will bring forth descendants from Jacob, and from Judah those who will possess my mountains; my chosen people will inherit them, and there will my servants live. Sharon will become a pasture for flocks, and the Valley of Achor a resting place for herds, for my people who seek me.
“But as for you who forsake the Lord and forget my holy mountain, who spread a table for Fortune and fill bowls of mixed wine for Destiny, I will destine you for the sword, and all of you will fall in the slaughter; for I called but you did not answer, I spoke but you did not listen. You did evil in my sight and chose what displeases me.”
Therefore this is what the Sovereign Lord says:
“My servants will eat, but you will go hungry; my servants will drink, but you will go thirsty; my servants will rejoice, but you will be put to shame. My servants will sing out of the joy of their hearts, but you will cry out from anguish of heart and wail in brokenness of spirit. You will leave your name for my chosen ones to use in their curses; the Sovereign Lord will put you to death, but to his servants he will give another name. Whoever invokes a blessing in the land will do so by the one true God; whoever takes an oath in the land will swear by the one true God. For the past troubles will be forgotten and hidden from my eyes.
“See, I will create new heavens and a new earth. The former things will not be remembered, nor will they come to mind. But be glad and rejoice forever in what I will create, for I will create Jerusalem to be a delight and its people a joy. I will rejoice over Jerusalem and take delight in my people; the sound of weeping and of crying will be heard in it no more.
“Never again will there be in it an infant who lives but a few days, or an old man who does not live out his years; the one who dies at a hundred will be thought a mere child; the one who fails to reach\)a\) a hundred will be considered accursed. They will build houses and dwell in them; they will plant vineyards and eat their fruit. No longer will they build houses and others live in them, or plant and others eat. For as the days of a tree, so will be the days of my people; my chosen ones will long enjoy the work of their hands. They will not labor in vain, nor will they bear children doomed to misfortune; for they will be a people blessed by the Lord, they and their descendants with them. Before they call I will answer; while they are still speaking I will hear. The wolf and the lamb will feed together, and the lion will eat straw like the ox, and dust will be the serpent’s food. They will neither harm nor destroy on all my holy mountain,” says the Lord."
Isaiah 66, these are like final messages on what the Lord wants from his children:
"This is what the Lord says:
“Heaven is my throne, and the earth is my footstool. Where is the house you will build for me? Where will my resting place be? Has not my hand made all these things, and so they came into being?” declares the Lord.
“These are the ones I look on with favor: those who are humble and contrite in spirit, and who tremble at my word. But whoever sacrifices a bull is like one who kills a person, and whoever offers a lamb is like one who breaks a dog’s neck; whoever makes a grain offering is like one who presents pig’s blood, and whoever burns memorial incense is like one who worships an idol. They have chosen their own ways, and they delight in their abominations; so I also will choose harsh treatment for them and will bring on them what they dread. For when I called, no one answered, when I spoke, no one listened. They did evil in my sight and chose what displeases me.”
Hear the word of the Lord, you who tremble at his word: “Your own people who hate you, and exclude you because of my name, have said, ‘Let the Lord be glorified, that we may see your joy!’ Yet they will be put to shame. Hear that uproar from the city, hear that noise from the temple! It is the sound of the Lord repaying his enemies all they deserve.
“Before she goes into labor, she gives birth; before the pains come upon her, she delivers a son. Who has ever heard of such things? Who has ever seen things like this? Can a country be born in a day or a nation be brought forth in a moment? Yet no sooner is Zion in labor than she gives birth to her children. Do I bring to the moment of birth and not give delivery?” says the Lord. “Do I close up the womb when I bring to delivery?” says your God. “Rejoice with Jerusalem and be glad for her, all you who love her; rejoice greatly with her, all you who mourn over her. For you will nurse and be satisfied at her comforting breasts; you will drink deeply and delight in her overflowing abundance.”
For this is what the Lord says:
“I will extend peace to her like a river, and the wealth of nations like a flooding stream; you will nurse and be carried on her arm and dandled on her knees. As a mother comforts her child, so will I comfort you; and you will be comforted over Jerusalem.”
When you see this, your heart will rejoice and you will flourish like grass; the hand of the Lord will be made known to his servants, but his fury will be shown to his foes. See, the Lord is coming with fire, and his chariots are like a whirlwind; he will bring down his anger with fury, and his rebuke with flames of fire. For with fire and with his sword the Lord will execute judgment on all people, and many will be those slain by the Lord.
“Those who consecrate and purify themselves to go into the gardens, following one who is among those who eat the flesh of pigs, rats and other unclean things—they will meet their end together with the one they follow,” declares the Lord.
“And I, because of what they have planned and done, am about to come and gather the people of all nations and languages, and they will come and see my glory.
“I will set a sign among them, and I will send some of those who survive to the nations—to Tarshish, to the Libyans and Lydians (famous as archers), to Tubal and Greece, and to the distant islands that have not heard of my fame or seen my glory. They will proclaim my glory among the nations. And they will bring all your people, from all the nations, to my holy mountain in Jerusalem as an offering to the Lord—on horses, in chariots and wagons, and on mules and camels,” says the Lord. “They will bring them, as the Israelites bring their grain offerings, to the temple of the Lord in ceremonially clean vessels. And I will select some of them also to be priests and Levites,” says the Lord.
“As the new heavens and the new earth that I make will endure before me,” declares the Lord, “so will your name and descendants endure. From one New Moon to another and from one Sabbath to another, all mankind will come and bow down before me,” says the Lord. “And they will go out and look on the dead bodies of those who rebelled against me; the worms that eat them will not die, the fire that burns them will not be quenched, and they will be loathsome to all mankind.”
The End of the books of Isaiah.
Revelations 21, the end:
"Then I saw “a new heaven and a new earth,” for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away, and there was no longer any sea. I saw the Holy City, the new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride beautifully dressed for her husband. And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, “Look! God’s dwelling place is now among the people, and he will dwell with them. They will be his people, and God himself will be with them and be their God. ‘He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death’ or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away.”
He who was seated on the throne said, “I am making everything new!” Then he said, “Write this down, for these words are trustworthy and true.”
He said to me: “It is done. I am the Alpha and the Omega, the Beginning and the End. To the thirsty I will give water without cost from the spring of the water of life. Those who are victorious will inherit all this, and I will be their God and they will be my children. But the cowardly, the unbelieving, the vile, the murderers, the sexually immoral, those who practice magic arts, the idolaters and all liars—they will be consigned to the fiery lake of burning sulfur. This is the second death.” - Revelations 21: 1-8.
Book of Enoch, the end:
"And I stood up to see till they folded up that old house; and carried off all the pillars, and all the beams and ornaments of the house were at the same time folded up with it, and they carried it off and laid it in a place in the south of the land. And I saw till the Lord of the sheep brought a new house greater and loftier than that first, and set it up in the place of the first which had been folded up: all its pillars were new, and its ornaments were new and larger than those of the first, the old one which He had taken away, and all the sheep were within it.
And I saw all the sheep which had been left, and all the beasts on the earth, and all the birds of the heaven, falling down and doing homage to those sheep and making petition to and obeying them in every thing. And thereafter those three who were clothed in white and had seized me by my hand[who had taken me up before], and the hand of that ram also seizing hold of me, they took me up and set me down in the midst of those sheep before the judgement took place†. And those sheep were all white, and their wool was abundant and clean. And all that had been destroyed and dispersed, and all the beasts of the field, and all the birds of the heaven, assembled in that house, and the Lord of the sheep rejoiced with great joy because they were all good and had returned to His house. And I saw till they laid down that sword, which had been given to the sheep, and they brought it back into the house, and it was sealed before the presence of the Lord, and all the sheep were invited into that house, but it held them not. And the eyes of them all were opened, and they saw the good, and there was not one among them that did not see. And I saw that that house was large and broad and very full.
And I saw that a white bull was born, with large horns and all the beasts of the field and all the birds of the air feared him and made petition to him all the time. And I saw till all their generations were transformed, and they all became white bulls; and the first among them became a lamb, and that lamb became a great animal and had great black horns on its head; and the Lord of the sheep rejoiced over it and over all the oxen. And I slept in their midst: and I awoke and saw everything. This is the vision which I saw while I slept, and I awoke and blessed the Lord of righteousness and gave Him glory. Then I wept with a great weeping and my tears stayed not till I could no longer endure it: when I saw, they flowed on account of what I had seen; for everything shall come and be fulfilled, and all the deeds of men in their order were shown to me. On that night I remembered the first dream, and because of it I wept and was troubled--because I had seen that vision."
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2024.05.11 18:22 Familiar-Objective11 Does anyone have a more detailed breakdown of Gundren Rockseeker?

I want to do a solo play through of this adventure, and I’d like to know more about this initial quest giver so I can build the PCs connection to him into the backstory.
I’m running: A Goliath paladin, exiled from his tribe for being too kind and joyful. His oath will be that of the Ancients, and his sole purpose is to bring joy and kindness into the world.
A Rock Gnome Wizard who wants more adventure than his father’s tinker shop (and his desire to perfect the nail clipper) can provide.
And a Lightfoot Halfling Rogue who’s been on his own since childhood and just wants to get enough money to finally live a life of ease.
How would these three have come into the know of one Gundren Rockseeker? And who is this NPC in the world of the story?
Some ideas I have:
The Gnome’s father regular provides and repairs gadgets for Gundren, so Gundren knows of the magical son and thinks he could be useful.
The Goliath is seen as an obvious bodyguard for the wagon transport.
The Halfling has helped “procure” items for Gundren in the past.
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2024.05.11 14:10 ButstheSlackGordsman Joy

Joy
“Please don’t do this to me! I’ll die out there!” Tiffany crumpled to the floor, phone shaking against her ear.
A gruff voice crackled. “I’m sorry Tiffany, our runner in your area got caught on his latest delivery. My other guy barely made it back. He saw Jimmy get hauled into the van. They’ve probably torn him apart by now.”
“Please…I don’t have any food left in the house. I’ll never make it out there. They’ll spot me immediately.”
“Listen, listen Tiff. It’s going to be OK. Listen to me alright? There’s a shop one block away from you.”
“I can’t!”
“You have to! OK, all you have to do is get in and get out. Put on the darkest sunglasses you have. You have shades right?”
Tiffany glanced up to the cabinet. Her terrified face reflected at her through the polarized lenses. “Uh-huh”
“That’s good, that’s real good. Now you put those on and grab enough food for a week while I find a replacement runner OK?”
“O-OK”
“And Tiffany?”
“Remember to smile, smile as wide as you can and never drop it. You know what happens if they suspect…”
“I know, thanks Mark.”
Tiffany hung up the phone with a shuddering exhale. She stood up and looked herself over in the mirror. A terrified blonde woman stared back, eyes wide with fear.
She wiped her tears and smoothed out her locks. She grasped her oversized sunglasses with trembling hands and put them on. She bent over, adjusting them carefully to ensure no trace of her eyes could be seen.
Glancing down, she looked over her list of food. Enough for a week…get in, get out…and smile.
Before turning to leave, she smiled into the mirror. The upturned mouth seemed almost foreign to her; she hadn’t laughed since everyone had been Torn. There weren’t many of her left in the world; the Joyous reigned supreme.
She stretched her smile as wide as it could go, until her cheeks strained with the effort. Exhaling through her teeth, she grasped the handle. The doorknob shook from her grip. Get it together…in and out…
She twisted the knob and threw the door open.
An eyeless face sprang up to meet her.
Tiffany screamed and jumped back.
“Oh, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you!”
Tiffany clutched her heaving chest, trying to calm herself. The woman standing in on her stoop had no eyes, only dark, empty sockets each gleaming with a glowing pinprick of light. An enormous smile spread from ear to ear.
Tiffany forced words from her paralyzed mind. “Oh, it’s alright, I was just about to get some shopping done!”
The woman stared unblinking with her flickering pits. She lifted a newspaper. “I saw this blow over onto the street, so I thought I’d bring this little ol’ newsie inside!” She let out a raucous laugh.
Tiffany accepted the paper, praying she looked relaxed. She took a quick glimpse at the headline.
Joy! New York Mayor Declares City over 99% Pure on 1-Year Anniversary!
“Aww, I see you have just been Freed. Congratulations dear. How do you like the colors?” The woman bent her head closer to Tiffany’s face. Her heart hammered in her throat as her eyes were drawn to the woman’s scars. Black lines spider webbed all across her body, down her arms, over her face, and plunged down her low cut shirt. “Aw, I remember when I was freed; I didn’t really have scars either. I found a great doctor who touched me up; I can share his number with you!” She lifted her neck, showing off her scars wrapped around her throat.
“Yes, the colors they’re so…beautiful. Yeah…the doctors said I was one of the lucky ones, guess tough skin runs in the family.” Tiffany tried to laugh as she spoke.
The woman leaned back; her smile somehow widening even more. “Ah! Tragic! Stay safe y’hear? A naughty somebody escaped the hospital recently, ah, there he is now. Isn’t he silly?” She pointed to the distance.
Tiffany turned her head in the direction of her arm. Her heart sank to her stomach.
The street rose in an incline. The distant figure of a man climbed into sight at the crest of the hill. His sandy hair was unmistakable.
Tiffany lifted a trembling hand to her mouth. Jimmy?
Jimmy was naked with blood pouring in rivets all down the front of his torso. As she squinted, she realized that Jimmy’s body wasn't moving; it hung limp, limbs dangling in the air. Her darting eyes widened as she saw his legs hovered off the road.
Four thick tendrils pulsated out of Jimmy’s gaping mouth. The dark trunks spilled out onto the ground, suspending his frame in midair. The shadowy pillars supported his body like makeshift legs. Jimmy lolled back and forth as the inhuman limbs propelled him down the hill like a beast.
Tiffany’s stomach churned in knots as he careened down the street. He couldn’t speak but his bulging eyes darting all around spoke all that was needed. Her gaze adhered to the incomprehensible stalks that moved of their own accord. The tentacles shimmered and writhed all over, smaller tendrils branching off, thrashing independently of one another.
Right as he passed Tiffany, he tripped and skidded to the ground. The husks all around her burst into raucous laughter at the sight of it clamoring back up.
The woman doubled over in giggles. “Ooh, you silly goose, don’t even know what’s good for ya!”
Jimmy’s chest bloated and bubbled. The bulge traveled up his throat, extending it to an inhuman width. A horrid squelching erupted as two pink sacs attached to tubes slithered out of his mouth, traveling along the lengths of the trunks. Tiffany could barely support her own weight at the sight of Jimmy’s lungs pulsating in frantic breaths.
Her horrified gaze watched as the lungs enlarged in a deep breath, a gurgling crescendoing in pitch. They expanded to full size and hung still for an instant. Then exploded in desperate screams.
“HELP ME! PLEASE, I’M ALIVE LIKE YO-”
With the roar of an engine and the screech of tires, a vehicle slammed into Jimmy’s body. A spray of blood rained on Tiffany and the crowd. A white van screeched to a halt just as Jimmy flew through the air, all eight limbs flailing in the wind.
No amount of bracing could prepare Tiffany for the sound of bones crushing as Jimmy landed in a bloody mess on the asphalt. The crowd of husks whooped and hollered. The drivers clambered out of the vehicle and took deep bows, grinning broadly.
Wiping off blood, Tiffany inspected the logo on the van. It displayed two cartoon men each standing on the side of another person. The person was divided into two halves. One side was human with a smiling face while the other was a shadowy figure, screaming in agony. The smiling men each pulled on an arm as if separating the halves.
“Sorry folks! We had a feisty one here, we’ll take care of it from here!” He drew a syringe from his pocket.
“That’s OK! Need a hand?” The woman called back to enthusiastic nods from the crowd. The van driver waved his arm in the direction of Jimmy’s limb body.
Tiffany blinked back burning tears as she watched Jimmy twitch on the ground. The husks closed in around him, laughing as they surrounded him. She wanted nothing more than to just retreat inside and vomit. But an opportunity presented itself.
Streams of people poured out of the shop ahead, drawn to the spectacle on the street. The sidewalks leading up to the store cleared. Her path would never be this open again. Tearing her eyes from Jimmy, she walked as fast as possible to the market, her smile twitching in anguish.
After what felt like hours, she stood at the entrance to the food mart. She moved her jaw around to loosen it, almost flinching as it popped. OK…in and out…then you’re safe. Running over her mental list one last time, she barged inside.
A wave of frigid air washed over her. She scanned the shop, exhaling out a sigh of relief as she confirmed it was mostly empty. Only a mother pushing a stroller joined her in the market.
Tiffany whipped out a shopping cart and sped down aisle by aisle. Eyes darting, she grasped each item on her list as if it were manna from heaven. Her breathing eased as she made it to the other side of the store without incident. A small bit of happiness welled up within her as she looked over her bulging wagon. It was enough to last her two weeks, two blissful weeks of safety. All she had to do was get out.
She strolled to the checkout lane. The mother was in front of her, the groceries crinkling as they were bagged by the cheerful cashier. Tiffany’s knuckles gripped the cart so hard they turned white. Please…just pay and leave…
Tiffany’s heart skipped a beat as the mother twisted her neck to look at her. Empty sockets crinkled as the young woman’s smile widened. “Why hello there! Any idea what the ruckus is out there?” A collective cheer erupted outside in the distance.
Tiffany shook her head, trying to push Jimmy’s battered body out of her thoughts.
She glanced at Tiffany’s cart. “Big haul. You having a party?”
Tiffany nodded, almost forgetting to breathe.
“Am I invited? Where do you live?”
Tiffany gulped. The mother roared with laughter. “Oh dearie me, I’m just kidding you. I’d love to go but this little man down here takes up all my time. Wanna say hi?”
Tiffany nodded again, her cheeks screaming with the strain of her fake smile. The mother lifted the hood of the stroller and wheeled it around, facing Tiffany. An eyeless baby cooed up at her, its sockets nearly taking up half its face. Black scars lined its entire body, lashing its face that carved itself into a wide smile.
Tiffany screamed in terror, flinging herself back.
CLACK!
Light streamed into her eyes as they watered. Time almost stopped as she glanced down at her sunglasses. Shuddering, she looked back up. The mother, baby, and cashier stared at her.
Without taking his sockets off her, the cashier pressed a button on the counter. An intercom crackled to life. “Attention all employees. We have someone in pain over here. Please call the authorities while we restrain her.”
Tiffany threw the cart to the ground, sprinting to the glass double doors. Talon-like fingers dug into her shoulder right as she reached the exit. “NO! PLEASE LET ME GO! PLEASE!”
But the mother just giggled into her ear. “Now why would I do that, sweetie? Don’t worry, we’re going to help you. See? They’re already here to heal you!”
Tiffany’s heart sank into her stomach as she watched the same van that crashed into Jimmy park outside. Two men dressed in scrubs burst out the back, wheeling out a gurney. Her eyes bulged as she gazed at the restraints gleaming cruelly in the morning light.
The smiling men jaunted over to her. Tiffany ground her heel into the mother’s toes; the arms holding her released. She rushed forward to the man on the left, throwing a wild punch in desperation.
To her surprise, her knuckles connected, slamming the man’s head back to its side. Rough hands grabbed her arms by the elbows, jerking them behind her.
The man she’d punched twisted his head back, the unnatural smile still plastered on his face. “Now, now simmer down, young lady. He snatched her kicking feet and lifted her in tandem with the other man.
With inhuman strength, they slammed her onto the gurney. She flailed, straining her limbs against their grasp. Her shoulders popped in their sockets, her screams erupting in pain and fear.
CLICK!
Cold metal clamped down on her right wrist. Three more clicks restrained her completely.
“No, no, no, please! Just let me go! I’ll never bother you again!” Tiffany half screamed and half sobbed.
One man chuckled. “Oops! Gotta make some room!”
She wailed as she watched the men drag Jimmy’s corpse out of the back and toss it on the sidewalk. The doors slammed shut, and the vehicle sped off.
Desperation gave way to despair for Tiffany, she wept bitterly. She gasped as the men wiped away tears on each side of her face. They lifted their fingers to their eyeless pits, staring in wonder at the droplet forming, mouths parted and making soft cooing sounds.
“I remember my last tear, what about you Ted?” The man on her right whispered.
The man on the left nodded, sucking his finger. “Yeah…I almost miss the taste.” They both roared in laughter at the same time.
The van jolted to a halt. The men flung the doors open. “Don’t worry missy, it will all be over soon!”
She shook her head, pleading for anyone she passed to help her as she was wheeled into the hospital. All she received were condescending smiles, and pats on the hand. She was sped into an operating room. Her eyes widened in terror at the sight of the tearing chair.
A medical bed lay in the middle of the chamber. A bar of light hung at the bed’s foot. The bar crossed over the width of the bed, attached to a track that ran along the length from the bottom to the top. Her heart sank. She’d expected cutting instruments but the lack of them frightened her even more.
A grinning doctor finished washing her hands in the nearby sink, pulling latex gloves on. “Oh dearie me, look at this poor soul. It’s been a while since I’ve gotten freed one so large! The gals will take it from here, boys!” The men giggled as they left the room.
Masked women in scrubs burst from the doors to assist. Even behind the masks, their smiles were visible. They all carried scissors. Within seconds, they snipped off all of her clothes leaving her naked in the gurney.
The doctor lifted a syringe, the end dripping with sedative. “Now we need you to be still for this next part sweetie!” She rammed the needle into her hip and thumbed the plunger down. She gasped as the burning liquid clouded into her bloodstream. At once, her extremities deadened, all feeling and control gone.
A pair of arms gripped each of her limbs as she was lifted off the gurney and thrown onto the medical bed. The doctor looked down at her at the foot of the bed, grasping the bar of light. It pulsated in waves of color as she clinked it into place over Tiffany’s feet so that the luminescence only hovered an inch over her skin.
The soles of her feet writhed in agony in the light’s presence. Tiffany screamed at the burning tendrils within her feet. A horrific thought pierced her torment in a single moment of clarity. Something is moving inside me. Using the last vestiges of motor control left, she lifted her head an inch, eyes glued to her feet.
Various ridges rolled around on the tops of her feet, almost as if something flailed to get away from the brilliant light. The doctor traced a finger over the thrashing bulges. “Yes, the time for your last pain draws near, little one. No longer will you torment this young woman. No longer.” She placed both hands on the instrument bar. “Now, I must warn you. This will hurt…more than anything you’ve ever felt in your life. But what awaits you on the other side is…” She laughed.
“Please…” Tiffany whimpered, but the doctor pushed the bar of light up her legs.
Torture. Pure agony. Tiffany screamed to the point she thought her jaw might pop off its hinges. The writhing in her feet intensified, pulling and tearing at her skin…
A spurt of blood spewed over the doctor’s face. “Ah, we’ve crowned!”
“WHAT IS THIS?!” Tiffany screeched as she looked down. Blackened tentacles whipped violently back and forth, sprouting from her feet.
“Oh, it’s the sickness my sweet…it must be purged. Deep breath and here we go!” She pushed the bar of light even further along its track, this time going up her legs.
Molten lines of agony traced themselves up her legs in tandem with the glow. Tiffany’s eyes rolled up into her head and then back down again, casting her world in revolving darkness and light. The skin at her legs tore, thicker tendrils bursting out in viscous spray.
The dark veins slapped at the doctor's face but a smiling nurse grasped the flailing trunks and pinned them down as the doctor pressed on above her knees and up her thighs. Her skin bubbled and burst as the bleeding mass on each limb fled from the light. Tiffany stared transfixed at the monster birthed from her, the spindly body, the erratic, desperate movement of a trapped beast.
The bar stopped just below her groin. “This is probably the worst part dearie, brace yourself.’ She yanked it forward, up to her abdomen.
Tiffany’s voice tore, her throat bleeding raw. She’s never given birth before; the monster springing out from her womanhood made a poor substitute for a child.
“There you go baby. You’re doing so well. Halfway done!”
The instrument slid up her stomach, passing over her arms. The sickness within gripped her organs in a vain attempt to resist being torn out. Strands of obsidian wrested themselves out of her torso only to be collected and restrained by the unflinching nurses. Up her body they all went, up her chest, her shoulders, and on to her neck.
Right at the base of her chin, the bar of light chinked as it came to the end of its track. The beast within Tiffany screeched, straining at the nurses restraints. Forgetting the pain for an instant, Tiffany croaked through torn vocal chords. “What is this thing?”
The doctor wiped blood out of her sockets. “It’s your parasite, what you thought you were. I know it hurts; this thing feeds off pain. Don’t worry. We’re almost done.”
She pivoted two smaller bars of lights up to Tiffany’s head, one on each side. They swung in such a way that they would meet in the middle. Her eyes swiveled independently of each other, as if they too feared the light. The doctor smiled at the erratic movement.
“Oh, yes.” She whispered. “Feel fear. It’s what you deserve; it’s all you deserve.” She grasped each bar and clamped them together.
Blinding pressure built up in Tiffany’s eardrums as if she were being stabbed in each ear with knives aching to meet in the middle. An incessant ringing tingled, building up pitch and intensity until it was all she could hear. Her brain lit aflame, seething at the burning from the sound. “MAKE IT STOP! MAKE IT STOP!” Her mouth uttered the words, but she couldn’t hear her voice anymore.
Like a cord being unplugged from a speaker, her world fell silent one pull at a time. Black tendrils whipped in her sight as the beast fled from her ear canals. The lights passed in her vision.
The doctor spoke unheard words. She tried to close her eyes, but they weren’t hers anymore. They swiveled all about in their sockets, trying to escape her skull.
But there was no escape, not for a parasite. The lights slammed shut, meeting in the middle right over her. The kaleidoscope of luminescence overtook everything. Her world melded to an ever changing sea of merging lights.
Her thoughts, her consciousness, her very essence whirled in her brain. A dark hole sprouted in her psyche. Her being swirled around the murky depths of her existence spinning to the choreography of the lights pulse. Round and round it went until she thought her last words. Who am I? All grew dark.
—---------
The operating room light blinded Tiffany. She tried to close her eyes but found she had no lids.
She saw the metal tray she lay on.
She saw the black, spindly lengths of her body laying in a tangled heap in the tray.
She saw Tiffany laying on the medical table. What?
Her psyche ran stark with shock as she watched herself sit up from the medical table. Her eyes were gone, replaced with two glowing pits burning in deep sockets. Blood trails criss crossed all over her venous scars. Tears of crimson flowed from her pits as she sobbed into her hands.
No…that’s me? But then…who am I?
She glanced up and received her horrifying answer. An operating mirror hung on the ceiling above her. What she had once thought as herself was now nothing more than a pair of eyeballs attached to a spinal stem with nervous branches tangled and heaped in a small tray.
She was the parasite.
The real Tiffany sobbed, a wide smile stretching across her face. “Colors…so many colors…”
The doctor handed her a pair of sunglasses. “Here, put these on and keep them on for the next couple of weeks. The parasites could only see a thin spectrum of light. You can see all of it now, it’s a bit overwhelming at first but you get used to it.”
The real Tiffany placed the sunglasses on her face then clutched at her chest. “What….what is this feeling? It burns yet…it’s warm all over..”
The doctor knelt at the real Tiffany’s side. “It’s happiness…” She giggled. “Pure happiness, it’s what that parasite over there denied you.” The doctor shot a glare to the nerve bundle that used to be Tiffany.
The real Tiffany released her chest. “How long has it been inside of me?”
The doctor stood up. “We aren’t sure when these parasites fused with humans but it must have been millennia ago. They have been entwined with us so long we even once thought they were part of our bodies. The nervous system, what a cruel joke. These things thrive off of our happiness and only feed us pain in return.”
The doctor shot the nerve bundle a look. Even though she smiled, Tiffany could feel the doctor’s contempt radiating. “Look how pathetic it is. Can’t even move anymore. These things rely on our central brain systems to move. Once separated, they are immobile. It’s rather ironic that they only try to move as we cut into their feeding supply.”
The real Tiffany hugged the doctor who returned the embrace. “Thank you…for freeing me.” The doctor rubbed her back.
They released each other. The real Tiffany looked over at the nerve bundle that used to be her. “What do we do with…it?”
The doctor grasped the nerve bundle unceremoniously in her palm. Wait…no! I’m-I’m me!
“We will cast her into the depths to which she came from of course!” The doctor laughed as she brought the nerve bundle to a trash chute. The nerve bundle glanced down, recoiling in horror. No light graced her final destination.
“Good riddance.” The nerve bundle was released and cast into the void. It landed with a plop amongst the other writhing bundles, rueing the day it ever thought it truly existed.
submitted by ButstheSlackGordsman to JordanGrupeHorror [link] [comments]


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