Inside carolina tar pit
[Leveling up the World] - Academy Arc - Chapter 756
2023.05.30 23:23 LiseEclaire [Leveling up the World] - Academy Arc - Chapter 756
Out there - Patreon (for all those curious or wanting to support :))
At the Beginning
Adventure Arc - Arc 2
Wilderness Arc - Arc 3
Academy Arc - Arc 4
Previously on Leveling up the World…
Nil used to say that even the greatest challenge became simple once the logic behind it was unraveled. At the time, the old echo was referring to awakening trials, but vortexes were surprisingly similar. Given enough resources and information, even life could be treated in the same fashion. Dallion had a while to go before reaching that level. The current vortex, though, was a different matter.
Creating potions wasn’t an easy experience. Aside from everything else, it required a good understanding of nymph magic methods and the ability to perform them. Thankfully, Dallion’s randomly esoteric interests had prepared him for such an eventuality.
After his protective layer of magic threads was complete, he approached the sea. Same as before, a dozen tendrils shot out in his direction. Summoning his thread splitter dagger, Dallion sliced the tips off, encasing the free elements in aether spheres of his own. That was another thing about magic—it always went towards those that were stronger. One careless move and even a high-level mage might have his magic stolen, by a creature, rival, or even the vortex environment itself. However, with enough skill and ingenuity, the opposite was also true.
One by one, the bubbles of captive magic were consumed, then released again, only this time forming an entirely new set of spells.
Swords? Onda asked. That’ll hardly work.
“Think of it as a meat grinder,” Dallion replied. All he needed was a makeshift drill to let him make his way through the sea. Having his own liquid spells fight the rest of the sea was only going to grant him a bit more time. Between that and the protective magic layer, it had to be enough.
No, I mean it won’t work. The moment you—
Let him learn his own mistakes, Harp interrupted. Her tone was calm, even pleasant, but it had the effect of lightning from a clear sky. It’s the only way he can progress.
“Thanks for the vote of confidence.” Dallion kept collecting magic threads for a few more minutes, then did another point attack. The start of a tunnel opened up on the sea’s surface. Quickly, Dallion threw all of his liquid spells inside, then followed. Same as before, the mass of the sea attempted to fill in the void, but this time it was hindered by the liquid wall of swords.
VORTEX BREACH
Overall stability 99%
Spells clashed against each other, filling the air with hundreds of purple rectangles. The damage was minuscule, and still a constant reminder of the eternal struggle between invader and realm. It was no wonder that mages were so cutthroat: there was only one thing certain upon entering a vortex: someone was going to absorb the other. The Academy’s main role was to teach novices how to survive.
Just like hunting, Dallion thought. On the other hand, he had never been the typical hunter. When it came to vortexes, there could be no offer of draw or surrender.
Twisting around, Dallion performed another point attack, drilling further into the sea. The number of rectangles doubled. Meanwhile, the size of the hold was reduced by half. The amount of spells Dallion had poured in—seemingly cast initially—was now wearing thin.
Maybe you should have spent a bit more time fathering threads, the armadil shield said.
“It’s all a formula.” Dallion did another point attack. “If the stability of the tunnel is decreased, I just need to go faster.”
All of his instincts shouted for him to split into instances, or at the very least create a few echoes to help in. His wisdom told him not to. All he had to do was remain calm. The emblems and artifacts he was wearing ensured that he’d be ejected from the vortex. Of course, there was never a guarantee. The higher the vortex level, the greater the danger it posed.
Summoning his hammer, Dallion did a double point attack, up and down, to keep the tunnel collapsing above him. He had gone so deep that the opening was the size of a coin.
“I told you it’ll work, Onda,” he said with a touch of glee. “It’s all logic and magic principles.”
No sooner had he said that than a mass of magic pierced through Dallion’s wall of spells, ending up in the tunnel. Believing his wall of swords to have been breached, Dallion unsummoned both his weapons and cast a new series of spells to plug the hole. That proved to be a mistake.
MODERATE WOUND
Your health has been reduced by 20%
What the heck? Dallion pulled back, summoning his harpsisword again.
Five feet away, the mass of magic had changed into a creature.
VORTEX MINION
Species: AETHERCORN
Class: MAGIC
Health: 0% HP
Traits:
- BODY 20
- MIND 20
- PERCEPTION 20
- REACTION 20
- MAGIC 40
Skills:
- ATTACK
- GUARD
- SPELLCRAFT
- ENTANGLE (Species Unique)
- RAIN OF BLADES (Species Unique)
- CHARGE (Species Unique)
Weakness: HOOVES
A unicorn? Dallion deflected the creature’s next attack with his weapon.
Looking at it, the minion was no different from a bladicorn, only created entirely out of threads of magic.
Tried to warn you, old man, Onda said from his realm. Vortexes adapt. You make a counter, they counter your counter.
Dallion was too busy fighting the creature to respond. Magic adaptability was well known. Having loose threads spontaneously create a creature, that was something new. No doubt there was some tome describing the theoretical process in vast detail. Seeing it in practice, though, was a lot.
Without wasting any time, Dallion flew down, then infused his harpsisword with spark, as he did an upward strike. Knowing what such a creature was capable of, his only course of action was to kill it as before it could start casting spells. The difficulty was not destroying his own spells in the process. For all the power of point and line attacks, they were going to do as much damage to Dallion’s own spells, resulting in him winning the encounter, but losing the overall fight.
The aethercorn quickly caught on, moving away and to the side of the tunnel. As long as it increased the distance and remained close to Dallion’s wall of blades, it would have the upper hand.
Sneaky bastard. Dallion cast several aether barriers.
Magic symbols covered the minion’s entire body. As they appeared, Dallion went through all the memorized spells in real time. Normally, he could tell easily what someone was casting once several of the major symbols had formed. In this case, the creature planned to create an aether explosion. In the real world, Dallion wouldn’t even bat an eye. Explosions were a lot less efficient against mages as one might think. Here, though, things were different; the minion wasn’t targeting him, but the wall of blades itself. If there were an explosion, the entire tunnel would collapse, leaving Dallion to rely on his “second skin”.
A new aether barrier appeared next to the aethecorn, then shoved it into the wall before the spell could be completed. The threads—representing aether blades in liquid form—mercilessly sliced into its body, causing the being to lose stability. The entire form burst like a popped balloon, spilling magic threads everywhere.
The moment Dallion saw that, he knew that his time was running out. Although inefficient, the vortex had found a way to breach his protective barrier. The only solution was to pass through the sea before the overall collapse.
Want a boost, boss? Lux asked. The firebird knew better than to assist uninvited.
“No!” Dallion said firmly, casting a new flight spell. “Return to my realm.”
Several more breaches occurred along the tunnel. Aethercorns emerged in front and behind Dallion. Some attacked him directly, others started casting spells to weaken the tunnel. At this point, dealing with them was an impossible task. Still, Dallion did several more point attacks, clearing out as many as possible. Unfortunately for him, that didn’t prove to be a lot. The minions were both fast and intelligent enough to keep to areas that were difficult to hit. Only the ones that attempted to outright block Dallion’s progress ended up being destroyed.
Gritting his teeth, Dallion started casting the flood spell. It was a move that verged to desperation, but the only thing that could help him right now. Within seconds, the portal emerged, then vanished behind Dallion. With a bit of luck, it was going to keep the minions occupied a bit longer.
Behind him, the top of the tunnel collapsed. The threads he had used to create his wall of swords was too thin to coat the entire space created by the point attacks. The purple sea splashed in, mixing with the water coming from Dallion’s portal.
MODERATE WOUND
Your health has been reduced by 20%
Another alicorn managed to stab Dallion’s leg with its horn as he flew by, effectively halving his health.
Leave the vortex, Harp said.
“I can do this.” Dallion had unsummoned the hammer, focusing on doing point attacks forward, while using his left hand to boost his speed. “I’m close to the end. I can feel it.”
You’re not ready for this vortex. You’re close, but you still aren’t there yet.
“I am.” Dallion insisted. It wasn’t that he had become complacent, but the last few months his progress had crawled to a stop. He might have learned a vast number of magic symbols and spells, but his magic trait remained at twenty-three. There was no way he was giving up a level four vortex, especially this one. “I am there,” he whispered.
Purple water kept seeping in. The top of the tunnel had completely collapsed. Spells created by vortex minions darted past him. Some even made contact, repelled by his protective layer of magic threads.
“Just a few seconds more,” Dallion said, more to himself than Harp.
He had been going through the sea for quite a while. As far as distance was concerned, it had to range in the dozens of miles, if not more. While space in any magic realm was an illusion, there was a limit to how much something could be stretched. Sooner or later, the sea had to come to an end.
“Ruby, create some wind,” he ordered.
Keeping firmly to Dallion’s shoulder, the shardfly flicked its wings, sending a flurry of wind slashes forward. This was by no means an elegant way to breach the tower, but as long as it worked Dallion had no intention of complaining.
Further and further down he went. His speed had increased to the point that he couldn’t see new aethercorns emerge. And yet, it all kept on going. It seemed that he had entered a bottomless pit. The sensation of doubt emerged. Was it a good move to keep persisting? If he quit now, would it all go to waste? There was no telling how long the vortex would remain. Maybe it would last for a few more hours. If he was lucky, it might appear again in another week or so.
No! Dallion told himself. If he couldn’t complete this, what chance did he stand against Grym and the traitorous battlemages? They had accumulated their magic for decades. If he didn’t take advantage of every opportunity presented to him, he might as well become a clerk at the Academy.
Point attacks kept pushing the tunnel further and further down until suddenly they didn’t. It only lasted a fraction of a second, but Dallion was able to catch it. The devastating amount of force had been effortlessly pushed to the sides, like water being poured on a mirror.
That was it—the end of the sea. Dallion had finally reached the solid barrier. At this point, he’d usually take the time to find a weakness, then slice through it and create a portal leading to the other side. With time being a luxury he didn’t have, Dallion resorted to the second best thing. Increasing the number of point attacks, he cast the magic depletion spell he had learned from Raven.
Lightning shot out in all directions, instantly ending Dallion’s flight spell as well as causing all magic threads to pull back.
“Shield!” Dallion summoned the armadil shield. “Cocoon me!” He performed one final point attack with his harpsisword.
The armadil shield expanded, becoming a metal sphere around Dallion. Half a second later, the impact tossed Dallion to the inside of it.
MINOR WOUND
Your health has been reduced by 5%
BREACH ENFORCER
(+2 Body)
Inertia and the force of will helped you breach into the tower’s core. You were lucky you didn’t go splat.
Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this story, consider joining my patreon or check out my other stories on redditserials:
The Scuu Paradox (a Space Opera Sci Fi)
The Cassandrian Theory (a Space Opera Sci Fi)
The Impeccable Adventure of the Reluctant Dungeon (Dungeon Core Adventure Comedy)
Uncharted Waters (An Urban Fantasy Detective Noir)
Book 3 will be available on Amazon from midnight tonight :D There will be an official post tomorrow, but here's a heads up to all impatient ones :D
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Adventure Arc - Arc 2
Wilderness Arc - Arc 3
Academy Arc - Arc 4
Previously on Leveling up the World…
Nil used to say that even the greatest challenge became simple once the logic behind it was unraveled. At the time, the old echo was referring to awakening trials, but vortexes were surprisingly similar. Given enough resources and information, even life could be treated in the same fashion. Dallion had a while to go before reaching that level. The current vortex, though, was a different matter.
Creating potions wasn’t an easy experience. Aside from everything else, it required a good understanding of nymph magic methods and the ability to perform them. Thankfully, Dallion’s randomly esoteric interests had prepared him for such an eventuality.
After his protective layer of magic threads was complete, he approached the sea. Same as before, a dozen tendrils shot out in his direction. Summoning his thread splitter dagger, Dallion sliced the tips off, encasing the free elements in aether spheres of his own. That was another thing about magic—it always went towards those that were stronger. One careless move and even a high-level mage might have his magic stolen, by a creature, rival, or even the vortex environment itself. However, with enough skill and ingenuity, the opposite was also true.
One by one, the bubbles of captive magic were consumed, then released again, only this time forming an entirely new set of spells.
Swords? Onda asked. That’ll hardly work.
“Think of it as a meat grinder,” Dallion replied. All he needed was a makeshift drill to let him make his way through the sea. Having his own liquid spells fight the rest of the sea was only going to grant him a bit more time. Between that and the protective magic layer, it had to be enough.
No, I mean it won’t work. The moment you—
Let him learn his own mistakes, Harp interrupted. Her tone was calm, even pleasant, but it had the effect of lightning from a clear sky. It’s the only way he can progress.
“Thanks for the vote of confidence.” Dallion kept collecting magic threads for a few more minutes, then did another point attack. The start of a tunnel opened up on the sea’s surface. Quickly, Dallion threw all of his liquid spells inside, then followed. Same as before, the mass of the sea attempted to fill in the void, but this time it was hindered by the liquid wall of swords.
VORTEX BREACH
Overall stability 99%
Spells clashed against each other, filling the air with hundreds of purple rectangles. The damage was minuscule, and still a constant reminder of the eternal struggle between invader and realm. It was no wonder that mages were so cutthroat: there was only one thing certain upon entering a vortex: someone was going to absorb the other. The Academy’s main role was to teach novices how to survive.
Just like hunting, Dallion thought. On the other hand, he had never been the typical hunter. When it came to vortexes, there could be no offer of draw or surrender.
Twisting around, Dallion performed another point attack, drilling further into the sea. The number of rectangles doubled. Meanwhile, the size of the hold was reduced by half. The amount of spells Dallion had poured in—seemingly cast initially—was now wearing thin.
Maybe you should have spent a bit more time fathering threads, the armadil shield said.
“It’s all a formula.” Dallion did another point attack. “If the stability of the tunnel is decreased, I just need to go faster.”
All of his instincts shouted for him to split into instances, or at the very least create a few echoes to help in. His wisdom told him not to. All he had to do was remain calm. The emblems and artifacts he was wearing ensured that he’d be ejected from the vortex. Of course, there was never a guarantee. The higher the vortex level, the greater the danger it posed.
Summoning his hammer, Dallion did a double point attack, up and down, to keep the tunnel collapsing above him. He had gone so deep that the opening was the size of a coin.
“I told you it’ll work, Onda,” he said with a touch of glee. “It’s all logic and magic principles.”
No sooner had he said that than a mass of magic pierced through Dallion’s wall of spells, ending up in the tunnel. Believing his wall of swords to have been breached, Dallion unsummoned both his weapons and cast a new series of spells to plug the hole. That proved to be a mistake.
MODERATE WOUND
Your health has been reduced by 20%
What the heck? Dallion pulled back, summoning his harpsisword again.
Five feet away, the mass of magic had changed into a creature.
VORTEX MINION
Species: AETHERCORN
Class: MAGIC
Health: 0% HP
Traits:
- BODY 20
- MIND 20
- PERCEPTION 20
- REACTION 20
- MAGIC 40
Skills:
- ATTACK
- GUARD
- SPELLCRAFT
- ENTANGLE (Species Unique)
- RAIN OF BLADES (Species Unique)
- CHARGE (Species Unique)
Weakness: HOOVES
A unicorn? Dallion deflected the creature’s next attack with his weapon.
Looking at it, the minion was no different from a bladicorn, only created entirely out of threads of magic.
Tried to warn you, old man, Onda said from his realm. Vortexes adapt. You make a counter, they counter your counter.
Dallion was too busy fighting the creature to respond. Magic adaptability was well known. Having loose threads spontaneously create a creature, that was something new. No doubt there was some tome describing the theoretical process in vast detail. Seeing it in practice, though, was a lot.
Without wasting any time, Dallion flew down, then infused his harpsisword with spark, as he did an upward strike. Knowing what such a creature was capable of, his only course of action was to kill it as before it could start casting spells. The difficulty was not destroying his own spells in the process. For all the power of point and line attacks, they were going to do as much damage to Dallion’s own spells, resulting in him winning the encounter, but losing the overall fight.
The aethercorn quickly caught on, moving away and to the side of the tunnel. As long as it increased the distance and remained close to Dallion’s wall of blades, it would have the upper hand.
Sneaky bastard. Dallion cast several aether barriers.
Magic symbols covered the minion’s entire body. As they appeared, Dallion went through all the memorized spells in real time. Normally, he could tell easily what someone was casting once several of the major symbols had formed. In this case, the creature planned to create an aether explosion. In the real world, Dallion wouldn’t even bat an eye. Explosions were a lot less efficient against mages as one might think. Here, though, things were different; the minion wasn’t targeting him, but the wall of blades itself. If there were an explosion, the entire tunnel would collapse, leaving Dallion to rely on his “second skin”.
A new aether barrier appeared next to the aethecorn, then shoved it into the wall before the spell could be completed. The threads—representing aether blades in liquid form—mercilessly sliced into its body, causing the being to lose stability. The entire form burst like a popped balloon, spilling magic threads everywhere.
The moment Dallion saw that, he knew that his time was running out. Although inefficient, the vortex had found a way to breach his protective barrier. The only solution was to pass through the sea before the overall collapse.
Want a boost, boss? Lux asked. The firebird knew better than to assist uninvited.
“No!” Dallion said firmly, casting a new flight spell. “Return to my realm.”
Several more breaches occurred along the tunnel. Aethercorns emerged in front and behind Dallion. Some attacked him directly, others started casting spells to weaken the tunnel. At this point, dealing with them was an impossible task. Still, Dallion did several more point attacks, clearing out as many as possible. Unfortunately for him, that didn’t prove to be a lot. The minions were both fast and intelligent enough to keep to areas that were difficult to hit. Only the ones that attempted to outright block Dallion’s progress ended up being destroyed.
Gritting his teeth, Dallion started casting the flood spell. It was a move that verged to desperation, but the only thing that could help him right now. Within seconds, the portal emerged, then vanished behind Dallion. With a bit of luck, it was going to keep the minions occupied a bit longer.
Behind him, the top of the tunnel collapsed. The threads he had used to create his wall of swords was too thin to coat the entire space created by the point attacks. The purple sea splashed in, mixing with the water coming from Dallion’s portal.
MODERATE WOUND
Your health has been reduced by 20%
Another alicorn managed to stab Dallion’s leg with its horn as he flew by, effectively halving his health.
Leave the vortex, Harp said.
“I can do this.” Dallion had unsummoned the hammer, focusing on doing point attacks forward, while using his left hand to boost his speed. “I’m close to the end. I can feel it.”
You’re not ready for this vortex. You’re close, but you still aren’t there yet.
“I am.” Dallion insisted. It wasn’t that he had become complacent, but the last few months his progress had crawled to a stop. He might have learned a vast number of magic symbols and spells, but his magic trait remained at twenty-three. There was no way he was giving up a level four vortex, especially this one. “I am there,” he whispered.
Purple water kept seeping in. The top of the tunnel had completely collapsed. Spells created by vortex minions darted past him. Some even made contact, repelled by his protective layer of magic threads.
“Just a few seconds more,” Dallion said, more to himself than Harp.
He had been going through the sea for quite a while. As far as distance was concerned, it had to range in the dozens of miles, if not more. While space in any magic realm was an illusion, there was a limit to how much something could be stretched. Sooner or later, the sea had to come to an end.
“Ruby, create some wind,” he ordered.
Keeping firmly to Dallion’s shoulder, the shardfly flicked its wings, sending a flurry of wind slashes forward. This was by no means an elegant way to breach the tower, but as long as it worked Dallion had no intention of complaining.
Further and further down he went. His speed had increased to the point that he couldn’t see new aethercorns emerge. And yet, it all kept on going. It seemed that he had entered a bottomless pit. The sensation of doubt emerged. Was it a good move to keep persisting? If he quit now, would it all go to waste? There was no telling how long the vortex would remain. Maybe it would last for a few more hours. If he was lucky, it might appear again in another week or so.
No! Dallion told himself. If he couldn’t complete this, what chance did he stand against Grym and the traitorous battlemages? They had accumulated their magic for decades. If he didn’t take advantage of every opportunity presented to him, he might as well become a clerk at the Academy.
Point attacks kept pushing the tunnel further and further down until suddenly they didn’t. It only lasted a fraction of a second, but Dallion was able to catch it. The devastating amount of force had been effortlessly pushed to the sides, like water being poured on a mirror.
That was it—the end of the sea. Dallion had finally reached the solid barrier. At this point, he’d usually take the time to find a weakness, then slice through it and create a portal leading to the other side. With time being a luxury he didn’t have, Dallion resorted to the second best thing. Increasing the number of point attacks, he cast the magic depletion spell he had learned from Raven.
Lightning shot out in all directions, instantly ending Dallion’s flight spell as well as causing all magic threads to pull back.
“Shield!” Dallion summoned the armadil shield. “Cocoon me!” He performed one final point attack with his harpsisword.
The armadil shield expanded, becoming a metal sphere around Dallion. Half a second later, the impact tossed Dallion to the inside of it.
MINOR WOUND
Your health has been reduced by 5%
BREACH ENFORCER
(+2 Body)
Inertia and the force of will helped you breach into the tower’s core. You were lucky you didn’t go splat.
The Scuu Paradox (a Space Opera Sci Fi)
The Cassandrian Theory (a Space Opera Sci Fi)
The Impeccable Adventure of the Reluctant Dungeon (Dungeon Core Adventure Comedy)
Uncharted Waters (An Urban Fantasy Detective Noir)
2023.05.30 23:04 girl_from_the_crypt Stuck on earth and looking for a job: I sat in a shopping cart for most of this...
Nettie Peterson has known me at my best and at my worst, and after everything that's happened lately, I think I can finally say the same. I'm admittedly not very good at comforting her, though. I haven't had much practice, is all. Historically speaking, she's always been the one to take care of me. My introduction to earth was a confusing, horrifying time for me, and she had dealt with all of it. She'd handled every panic attack, brought me back from every low. When I woke up one night to a drilling pain in my stomach and blood soaking my panties, she managed to keep me calm while explaining that this would now happen every month.
What I'm saying is that the woman is insanely skilled.
Me, not so much. After we had gotten out of the cave, I tried to provide emotional support by petting her hair and talking soothingly. Seeing as I was also distressed, she was doing the same to me, so we were basically sitting on the beach holding each other. To the outside observer, we must have looked rather strange. I was relieved to finally get back to her house. We sat down in front of the TV and ate cupcakes. We have a special system for eating cupcakes. I peel off the frosting and give her rest. It's messy and I have to keep hand wipes nearby everytime, but it's how we do it. We both eat cupcakes whole when we're by ourselves, so it doesn't make much sense either, but when we share, it's always like this.
Once I was sure she was alright, I left her to go off to bed while I made my way back to the hotel, bracing myself for what I expected to be an extremely uncomfortable conversation.
The lobby was dim and quiet. The large, bright ceiling lights had been turned off with only a couple floor lamps illuminating the hall. I walked past the unmanned reception desk and up the stairs, then rapped my knuckles against the door to Frankie's room. After a couple seconds, he opened up. Upon meeting my gaze, he let out a soft gasp, but it wasn't followed by a smile this time. He made way for me to step inside, wordlessly, and I entered without breaking the silence. I sat down on the sofa where he joined me after placing a glass of coconut water in front of me.
For a beat, we both stared at the drink. I didn't take it.
"What you did felt really off earlier," I began. "You were trying to embarrass Nettie. If you were testing your boundaries, if you were trying to see how I'd react, you got your answer. Don't ever make me choose between you two. You'll lose."
"Yes," he said quietly.
"If you don't get along with Nettie, that's one thing. You don't need to. But she was needling you and you made a real effort to be cruel." I paused. "You act so strange sometimes. All bossy and cagey."
"Yes," he repeated, briefly falling silent as he worked away on his gum in slow, contemplative motions. "I'm sorry. I don't know why I did it. I wanted to unsettle her. It's not that I don't like her, she's fine, but at that moment, I simply loathed her. I couldn't tell you why. But I wish I'd kept quiet. I feel gross for spouting off like that."
"Then… why?"
"I don't know! There's this weird feeling, it comes over me and makes me remember stuff that's in the past… Then I get caught up and confused. I run my mouth, but I don't want to make you upset. I swear I won't do it again. I'll rein myself in."
"Will you? This doesn't seem right." I took a deep breath. "Frankie, I have no idea what you are. Even though you know everything about me."
"Not everything," he argued. "You never said a thing about what life was like where you're from. Or who you were before. Yes, that's not what this is about, but I'm just speaking technically."
"You shouldn't have to rely on technicalities to make a point."
"No. Look, I keep wondering what I'm even doing here. I like you a lot. But I haven't thought this through and by now, I'm scared to."
"Stop talking in riddles," I implored him.
He huffed out a chuckle. "I'd have to stop thinking in them first." Before he could add anything else, his phone started vibrating on the TV table. "Oh, dammit," he muttered. Shooting me an uncertain gaze, he reached out for it, his hand hovering above the screen. "Can I?"
"Sure." I let go of a long breath, snatched up the glass and leaned back in my seat as Frankie answered the call. I pick up on a woman's voice talking on the other end.
He kept glancing over at me almost sheepishly as he mumbled words of affirmation into the phone. "Yes… Yeah, I remember… Well, it's not a good time, but I'll do it. Bye." Dropping the device into his lap, he gave me a twist of the mouth. "That was Mae-Lynn. She works at—"
"The diner with you," I cut him off. "I do take note of the other staff there, for your information." I took a sip of my water. "Occasionally."
"I promised to do some shopping for her. She's come down with the flu. Store's closing soon, though, so I'll have to go now."
"Well, that's convenient."
"I was going to ask you to come along."
I agreed. Having lost track of the conversation, the drive was a grim, quiet affair. Frankie took us to one of the more expensive stores in the area, saying that he wanted to treat Mae-Lynn.
"Take a cart," I ordered, and once he had acquired one, I had him hold it still while I climbed inside. He regarded me with a bemused expression but refrained from commenting as he began to roll me down the aisles.
Grocery shopping at night is something else. Eighties music was playing over the radio at a low volume, but the otherwise quiet space made it sound decidedly louder. There was almost the hint of an echo. Safe for two of three singular, tired-looking individuals, Frankie and I were the only people in the store. I had nestled against the back of the cart, my head tipped back to watch Fran's face from below as his eyes roamed the shelves. Occasionally, he'd stop to check the list Mae-Lynn had texted him on his phone.
"If you want anything, speak up," he told me.
"I'm out of cereal," I said, just as we passed the respective aisle. He turned the cart back around, let me pick out a carton of cornflakes and took up walking again. After five minutes of stoically regarding him from my mobile vantage point, I piped up again. "Go back. Wrong ones."
"Well, which ones do you want? I'll get them, it's faster than pushing this thing around."
I shook my head. "No, no, I have to look at them. Go back."
He shook his head to himself but obediently maneuvered the cart back to the shelf with the breakfast items. I took my time picking out a different box, then settled back down.
"Happy?" Fran asked.
"Delighted."
After fifteen minutes, we were getting close to finishing Mae-Lynn's list. Frankie was starting to move towards the cash register, only for me to tug on his arm. "Turn back," I told him, holding up the box. "I don't want them after all. I need different ones."
He stifled a groan. "Sure, Sunshine." I let him roll me all the way back to the cereal aisle where I studied the colorful boxes intensely. "Nevermind," I said, turning back to him. "Let's go."
He started making his way over to the register again when I cleared my throat. "Actually, I think I might have another look."
"Are you kidding me?" he squeaked, only for me to hold his gaze with a smile. "You are," he choked out. "I oughta send you rolling right into that stack of cans."
"You wouldn't dare."
"Is that a challenge?" He glanced about himself, finding that we were alone. Then, he pushed the cart, and it swerved, sliding across the shiny floor. The thrill of the launch washed over me and I started laughing. He lunged for it, grabbing it just in time to prevent the collision.
"Do it again!" I demanded.
He indulged me, sending me swerving and spinning a couple more times. Eventually, he took a running start and pushed me down a long, empty aisle at a breakneck speed. The giggles died in my throat when, seemingly out of thin air, someone appeared at the end of the aisle. My jaw dropped and I reflexively gripped the sides of the cart to protect myself from the impending crash, but the person simply reached out and caught the cart by its edges. Within the blink of an eye, they had managed to steady it. My vehicle had come to a standstill. It all happened incredibly fast, and for a moment, I found myself unable to react. One of the other person's hands had come to rest over mine in the process. Still at a loss for words, I raised my head to meet their gaze.
Those eyes.
My heart, already thundering in my chest, dropped entirely into my stomach. There were pupils filling the void in that formerly uninterrupted pale vastness this time, but I recognized them either way. Seeing them sit in an actual face instead of behind a nondescript black mask was strange, but there was not a doubt in my mind. It was them.
The cultist had jarringly pleasant features that struck me as neither overtly feminine nor masculine. Their tawny skin had an almost bronze sheen to it and short locks of platinum blond hair stuck to their smooth forehead, slick with the same sweat that formed stains beneath the armpits of their light gray t-shirt.
It was like time stood still. The interaction could not have been longer than two seconds in total, but it felt like a full hour. From me staring at our linked hands, to locking eyes with them, to the cold, raw realization, it seemed to me as though forty minutes or more had gone by, followed by another twenty when I watched the crude smile forming on their lips. Their fingers clamped down on my own, and before I knew it, it had happened.
The lights in the store had changed color, taking on a dimmer, sickly green tint. The shelves around us had emptied and the gentle, melodic hum of the radio had been replaced by a deep, droning buzz of static. I was still sitting in the shopping cart, and the cultist was still leaning over me, but their expression had morphed into one of shocked disbelief. Seeing fear on the face of the person who'd stabbed me might have been a great satisfaction to me in any other situation, but right then and there, I was equally as terrified.
I had switched dimensions and was now alone with my attempted murderer.
The thought took a while to sink in, but the clearer it became, the more I felt the need to scream. And yet, not a sound left my lips. My own saliva had turned sour, filling my mouth with an acidic taste. Dread pooled in the pit of my stomach like icy, chilled water and tears were stringing the corners of my eyes. I blinked them away in a hurry, redirecting my gaze at the cultist. They were staring past me in a daze, taking in our changed surroundings before fixing me with a sharp glare.
"Seriously?"
"What?" The word somehow slipped past the lump in my throat.
The cultist made a sweeping gesture at our surroundings. "Where are we? What the hell is this? You don't even have your dimension hopping under control? Not gonna lie, I had higher expectations of you."
"What?" I repeated eloquently.
"You just switched dimensions on my ass. And seeing as you literally crashed into me, I don't think you planned on doing that."
"I didn't," I confirmed.
"That's what I'm talking about."
"You know about dimensions?"
The cultist palmed their face, emitting a deep, low groan. "Clearly."
I scrambled back in the cart, trying to bring some distance between the two of us. I bared my teeth at them, both rows elongating and curving outward. At least I was getting the hang of my physical transformation. "If you come any closer, I'll rip your hand off," I hissed, spittle flying out between my fangs.
"I believe you," they replied, narrowing their eyes at me. "I'm not gonna hurt you."
"That's hard for me to believe."
"Yes, sure. I did and I would again, but not here. Not now. You understand?" they asked pointedly, their voice cutting like a razor blade.
"I'm not sure I do."
"Well, without you, I won't get out of here, and I've stuff to do on the other side." They stepped behind the cart and grabbed onto the handle.
I hastily twisted around to face them. "You know about the finer details of dimension hopping but you can't do it yourself?"
They let out a soft sigh as they began pushing the cart, with me inside, down the empty aisle. "I managed to do it once. Just once. Never again. It's not a great surprise to me that you should be able to switch to the other sides, but I'd thought you'd be able to control it. I think I have your number. I'm pretty sure I know what you are, and we have more in common than you could have probably guessed. That boy you were with on the other hand… I won't lie, he freaks me out. He's got the strangest face and he didn't react to my eyes at all."
"What are you?" I queried, quick to steer him away from the topic of Frankie Preston even though I didn't really expect an honest answer. "How'd you do that the other night? Your… your eye thing?"
"That unsettled you, didn't it? It's not anything I do per se." They shrugged leisurely. "I could just as well ask you where you're hiding your tentacles."
"So you're not human. I didn't think you were," I stated. "What's your business with the Collective? What are you after? Are any of you normal people?"
"As far as I know, I'm the only one who's not." They steered the cart around the corner with a swift, forcible yank and I bumped painfully against the side of the cart. Stifling a yelp, I kept my face straight, looking over the shelves as we passed them. I noticed that some of them weren't entirely empty—there were a couple jars, cans and bags of various goods standing scattered throughout. They looked almost lonely. The cultist, registering my wandering gaze, stopped and grabbed a random plastic jar that looked like it could be containing peanut butter or something of the sort. The label was faded and partially peeled off. They inspected it from all sides before thrusting it into my hands. "Here, open it," they commanded.
"I certainly won't," I replied, a mix of rage and apprehension bubbling in my chest.
"Aren't you curious?"
"No. But if you are, go on and open it yourself."
They grunted, grabbing the jar and unscrewing the red lid. They dropped it to the floor where it bounced off once and rolled away into the darkness. Peering in, their expression remained unchanged. "Nothing. Look." They held it out to me and sure enough, it was empty. I let them hand it to me, intrigue winning me over as I started examining the small container. It was completely unremarkable. I reached two of my fingers inside only for the digits to suddenly be stricken with a searing pain. It flashed through my bones like lightning and I cried out, withdrawing my hand. Suddenly, the floor seemed to quiver. The lights in the store flickered, seeming startlingly bright for a split second only to turn dimly green once more. The cultist let out an involuntary shriek, staggering back before managing to steady themself as everything went back to its former solid state.
"What the fuck was that?" they wheezed.
"An earthquake?" I suggested, not quite knowing what else to say. My pulse was thrumming in my ears, hard enough to split my head in half. It took me a minute to regain a relative state of calm.
"An earthquake? In another dimension? You're messing with me."
"I don't know! Maybe it was… maybe I was nearly jumping back, I have no idea." I shook my head, ignoring the throbbing pain shooting through my temples. "I don't have it all figured out yet, but it's an emotional response. Whenever my flight instinct gets triggered, these dimension switches happen. It was the jar. The jar is painful inside."
"What do you mean?" they asked, eagerly reaching for the jar and sticking their pinky finger into it. They pulled it back out with a howl, letting the jar drop to the floor. "What the hell is up with this place?"
"How would I know?" I argued hotly.
"Yeah, well. Anyways." All of a sudden, their hand was in my hair, tugging on my braid. They yanked my head to the side, and before I could break out my tentacles or try to snap my jaws at them, I could feel their hot breath on my nape. A scream died in my throat, equal parts painful and shocked. My eyes burned, my vision swimming when the cultist dragged their teeth across my skin, leaving a trail of warm saliva. And then, fast and without mercy, they bit down.
The lights turned bright white. The static buzzing that had been hanging in the stale air changed to the familiar eighties music tunes. Squinting into the sudden brightness, the colors of the countless types of packaged products filling the shelves almost seemed to be screaming at me.
We were back.
The cultist disentangled themself, quickly stepping away from me. I looked up, still dazed, to see why. Frankie Preston had come up behind us, snatching the cart away from the other person and pulling it out of their reach. I immediately scrambled up to wrap my arms around him. "That's them," I breathed. "From the Collective."
"I know," he said tonelessly. His eyes, trained on the blonde, spelled murder. "You should get out of here," he added, addressing them. "The shelves here are rickety, they might fall on you."
The cultist's expression was a frozen mix of suppressed uncertainty and confusion. Still, they held the server's gaze. "You should maybe not… do anything stupid," they uttered, their voice almost equally as flat as his.
"I'm all about stupid."
"Then I guess I ought to leave. See you guys soon. It was a pleasure." They threw us a smile that was faker than Frankie's when he waited tables before marching off, leaving the two of us alone in the aisle.
"Are you alright?" Fran asked, running a hand over my mussed braid. "What happened? I'm so… one minute you were here and the next…"
"We switched dimensions."
"I pieced that together. You weren't gone for long… just a couple minutes." He nervously twisted his wet bubble gum around the tip of his finger, drawing nervous strings.
"Were you worried?"
"Out of my mind," he said in a low voice, not meeting my gaze. "I mean, I knew you'd be okay on your own, I wasn't saying that—"
"I wasn't. I'm not," I interrupted him. "I got out alright, sure I did, but I'm not okay right now." I swallowed. My throat was bone dry. "I need to call Mary Markov. She should hear about this."
Frankie nodded along. "Do you want me to do it for you? I'm certain I can give her an accurate description."
I declined and sat back in the cart. Per my request, Fran brought me home after we'd paid for everything. I needed some time alone to relax and pretend everything was normal. I cleaned my room and then looked through job listings, which I admittedly haven't done in a little while. When I couldn't find any other way to procrastinate, I made the call to Mary Markov, which went about as well as could be expected. She wants to see me tomorrow, though. I wish she'd told me about what. For a newsreader, she's really not very forward with her information.
X
1
2: deadbeat roommate
3: creepy crush
4: relocation
5: beach concert
6: First date
7: Temp work
8: roommate talk
9: a dismal worldview
10: warehouse
11: staircase
12: explanation
13: hurt
14: hospital
15: ocean
16: diner
17: government work
18: something in the caves
submitted by girl_from_the_crypt to nosleep [link] [comments]
What I'm saying is that the woman is insanely skilled.
Me, not so much. After we had gotten out of the cave, I tried to provide emotional support by petting her hair and talking soothingly. Seeing as I was also distressed, she was doing the same to me, so we were basically sitting on the beach holding each other. To the outside observer, we must have looked rather strange. I was relieved to finally get back to her house. We sat down in front of the TV and ate cupcakes. We have a special system for eating cupcakes. I peel off the frosting and give her rest. It's messy and I have to keep hand wipes nearby everytime, but it's how we do it. We both eat cupcakes whole when we're by ourselves, so it doesn't make much sense either, but when we share, it's always like this.
Once I was sure she was alright, I left her to go off to bed while I made my way back to the hotel, bracing myself for what I expected to be an extremely uncomfortable conversation.
The lobby was dim and quiet. The large, bright ceiling lights had been turned off with only a couple floor lamps illuminating the hall. I walked past the unmanned reception desk and up the stairs, then rapped my knuckles against the door to Frankie's room. After a couple seconds, he opened up. Upon meeting my gaze, he let out a soft gasp, but it wasn't followed by a smile this time. He made way for me to step inside, wordlessly, and I entered without breaking the silence. I sat down on the sofa where he joined me after placing a glass of coconut water in front of me.
For a beat, we both stared at the drink. I didn't take it.
"What you did felt really off earlier," I began. "You were trying to embarrass Nettie. If you were testing your boundaries, if you were trying to see how I'd react, you got your answer. Don't ever make me choose between you two. You'll lose."
"Yes," he said quietly.
"If you don't get along with Nettie, that's one thing. You don't need to. But she was needling you and you made a real effort to be cruel." I paused. "You act so strange sometimes. All bossy and cagey."
"Yes," he repeated, briefly falling silent as he worked away on his gum in slow, contemplative motions. "I'm sorry. I don't know why I did it. I wanted to unsettle her. It's not that I don't like her, she's fine, but at that moment, I simply loathed her. I couldn't tell you why. But I wish I'd kept quiet. I feel gross for spouting off like that."
"Then… why?"
"I don't know! There's this weird feeling, it comes over me and makes me remember stuff that's in the past… Then I get caught up and confused. I run my mouth, but I don't want to make you upset. I swear I won't do it again. I'll rein myself in."
"Will you? This doesn't seem right." I took a deep breath. "Frankie, I have no idea what you are. Even though you know everything about me."
"Not everything," he argued. "You never said a thing about what life was like where you're from. Or who you were before. Yes, that's not what this is about, but I'm just speaking technically."
"You shouldn't have to rely on technicalities to make a point."
"No. Look, I keep wondering what I'm even doing here. I like you a lot. But I haven't thought this through and by now, I'm scared to."
"Stop talking in riddles," I implored him.
He huffed out a chuckle. "I'd have to stop thinking in them first." Before he could add anything else, his phone started vibrating on the TV table. "Oh, dammit," he muttered. Shooting me an uncertain gaze, he reached out for it, his hand hovering above the screen. "Can I?"
"Sure." I let go of a long breath, snatched up the glass and leaned back in my seat as Frankie answered the call. I pick up on a woman's voice talking on the other end.
He kept glancing over at me almost sheepishly as he mumbled words of affirmation into the phone. "Yes… Yeah, I remember… Well, it's not a good time, but I'll do it. Bye." Dropping the device into his lap, he gave me a twist of the mouth. "That was Mae-Lynn. She works at—"
"The diner with you," I cut him off. "I do take note of the other staff there, for your information." I took a sip of my water. "Occasionally."
"I promised to do some shopping for her. She's come down with the flu. Store's closing soon, though, so I'll have to go now."
"Well, that's convenient."
"I was going to ask you to come along."
I agreed. Having lost track of the conversation, the drive was a grim, quiet affair. Frankie took us to one of the more expensive stores in the area, saying that he wanted to treat Mae-Lynn.
"Take a cart," I ordered, and once he had acquired one, I had him hold it still while I climbed inside. He regarded me with a bemused expression but refrained from commenting as he began to roll me down the aisles.
Grocery shopping at night is something else. Eighties music was playing over the radio at a low volume, but the otherwise quiet space made it sound decidedly louder. There was almost the hint of an echo. Safe for two of three singular, tired-looking individuals, Frankie and I were the only people in the store. I had nestled against the back of the cart, my head tipped back to watch Fran's face from below as his eyes roamed the shelves. Occasionally, he'd stop to check the list Mae-Lynn had texted him on his phone.
"If you want anything, speak up," he told me.
"I'm out of cereal," I said, just as we passed the respective aisle. He turned the cart back around, let me pick out a carton of cornflakes and took up walking again. After five minutes of stoically regarding him from my mobile vantage point, I piped up again. "Go back. Wrong ones."
"Well, which ones do you want? I'll get them, it's faster than pushing this thing around."
I shook my head. "No, no, I have to look at them. Go back."
He shook his head to himself but obediently maneuvered the cart back to the shelf with the breakfast items. I took my time picking out a different box, then settled back down.
"Happy?" Fran asked.
"Delighted."
After fifteen minutes, we were getting close to finishing Mae-Lynn's list. Frankie was starting to move towards the cash register, only for me to tug on his arm. "Turn back," I told him, holding up the box. "I don't want them after all. I need different ones."
He stifled a groan. "Sure, Sunshine." I let him roll me all the way back to the cereal aisle where I studied the colorful boxes intensely. "Nevermind," I said, turning back to him. "Let's go."
He started making his way over to the register again when I cleared my throat. "Actually, I think I might have another look."
"Are you kidding me?" he squeaked, only for me to hold his gaze with a smile. "You are," he choked out. "I oughta send you rolling right into that stack of cans."
"You wouldn't dare."
"Is that a challenge?" He glanced about himself, finding that we were alone. Then, he pushed the cart, and it swerved, sliding across the shiny floor. The thrill of the launch washed over me and I started laughing. He lunged for it, grabbing it just in time to prevent the collision.
"Do it again!" I demanded.
He indulged me, sending me swerving and spinning a couple more times. Eventually, he took a running start and pushed me down a long, empty aisle at a breakneck speed. The giggles died in my throat when, seemingly out of thin air, someone appeared at the end of the aisle. My jaw dropped and I reflexively gripped the sides of the cart to protect myself from the impending crash, but the person simply reached out and caught the cart by its edges. Within the blink of an eye, they had managed to steady it. My vehicle had come to a standstill. It all happened incredibly fast, and for a moment, I found myself unable to react. One of the other person's hands had come to rest over mine in the process. Still at a loss for words, I raised my head to meet their gaze.
Those eyes.
My heart, already thundering in my chest, dropped entirely into my stomach. There were pupils filling the void in that formerly uninterrupted pale vastness this time, but I recognized them either way. Seeing them sit in an actual face instead of behind a nondescript black mask was strange, but there was not a doubt in my mind. It was them.
The cultist had jarringly pleasant features that struck me as neither overtly feminine nor masculine. Their tawny skin had an almost bronze sheen to it and short locks of platinum blond hair stuck to their smooth forehead, slick with the same sweat that formed stains beneath the armpits of their light gray t-shirt.
It was like time stood still. The interaction could not have been longer than two seconds in total, but it felt like a full hour. From me staring at our linked hands, to locking eyes with them, to the cold, raw realization, it seemed to me as though forty minutes or more had gone by, followed by another twenty when I watched the crude smile forming on their lips. Their fingers clamped down on my own, and before I knew it, it had happened.
The lights in the store had changed color, taking on a dimmer, sickly green tint. The shelves around us had emptied and the gentle, melodic hum of the radio had been replaced by a deep, droning buzz of static. I was still sitting in the shopping cart, and the cultist was still leaning over me, but their expression had morphed into one of shocked disbelief. Seeing fear on the face of the person who'd stabbed me might have been a great satisfaction to me in any other situation, but right then and there, I was equally as terrified.
I had switched dimensions and was now alone with my attempted murderer.
The thought took a while to sink in, but the clearer it became, the more I felt the need to scream. And yet, not a sound left my lips. My own saliva had turned sour, filling my mouth with an acidic taste. Dread pooled in the pit of my stomach like icy, chilled water and tears were stringing the corners of my eyes. I blinked them away in a hurry, redirecting my gaze at the cultist. They were staring past me in a daze, taking in our changed surroundings before fixing me with a sharp glare.
"Seriously?"
"What?" The word somehow slipped past the lump in my throat.
The cultist made a sweeping gesture at our surroundings. "Where are we? What the hell is this? You don't even have your dimension hopping under control? Not gonna lie, I had higher expectations of you."
"What?" I repeated eloquently.
"You just switched dimensions on my ass. And seeing as you literally crashed into me, I don't think you planned on doing that."
"I didn't," I confirmed.
"That's what I'm talking about."
"You know about dimensions?"
The cultist palmed their face, emitting a deep, low groan. "Clearly."
I scrambled back in the cart, trying to bring some distance between the two of us. I bared my teeth at them, both rows elongating and curving outward. At least I was getting the hang of my physical transformation. "If you come any closer, I'll rip your hand off," I hissed, spittle flying out between my fangs.
"I believe you," they replied, narrowing their eyes at me. "I'm not gonna hurt you."
"That's hard for me to believe."
"Yes, sure. I did and I would again, but not here. Not now. You understand?" they asked pointedly, their voice cutting like a razor blade.
"I'm not sure I do."
"Well, without you, I won't get out of here, and I've stuff to do on the other side." They stepped behind the cart and grabbed onto the handle.
I hastily twisted around to face them. "You know about the finer details of dimension hopping but you can't do it yourself?"
They let out a soft sigh as they began pushing the cart, with me inside, down the empty aisle. "I managed to do it once. Just once. Never again. It's not a great surprise to me that you should be able to switch to the other sides, but I'd thought you'd be able to control it. I think I have your number. I'm pretty sure I know what you are, and we have more in common than you could have probably guessed. That boy you were with on the other hand… I won't lie, he freaks me out. He's got the strangest face and he didn't react to my eyes at all."
"What are you?" I queried, quick to steer him away from the topic of Frankie Preston even though I didn't really expect an honest answer. "How'd you do that the other night? Your… your eye thing?"
"That unsettled you, didn't it? It's not anything I do per se." They shrugged leisurely. "I could just as well ask you where you're hiding your tentacles."
"So you're not human. I didn't think you were," I stated. "What's your business with the Collective? What are you after? Are any of you normal people?"
"As far as I know, I'm the only one who's not." They steered the cart around the corner with a swift, forcible yank and I bumped painfully against the side of the cart. Stifling a yelp, I kept my face straight, looking over the shelves as we passed them. I noticed that some of them weren't entirely empty—there were a couple jars, cans and bags of various goods standing scattered throughout. They looked almost lonely. The cultist, registering my wandering gaze, stopped and grabbed a random plastic jar that looked like it could be containing peanut butter or something of the sort. The label was faded and partially peeled off. They inspected it from all sides before thrusting it into my hands. "Here, open it," they commanded.
"I certainly won't," I replied, a mix of rage and apprehension bubbling in my chest.
"Aren't you curious?"
"No. But if you are, go on and open it yourself."
They grunted, grabbing the jar and unscrewing the red lid. They dropped it to the floor where it bounced off once and rolled away into the darkness. Peering in, their expression remained unchanged. "Nothing. Look." They held it out to me and sure enough, it was empty. I let them hand it to me, intrigue winning me over as I started examining the small container. It was completely unremarkable. I reached two of my fingers inside only for the digits to suddenly be stricken with a searing pain. It flashed through my bones like lightning and I cried out, withdrawing my hand. Suddenly, the floor seemed to quiver. The lights in the store flickered, seeming startlingly bright for a split second only to turn dimly green once more. The cultist let out an involuntary shriek, staggering back before managing to steady themself as everything went back to its former solid state.
"What the fuck was that?" they wheezed.
"An earthquake?" I suggested, not quite knowing what else to say. My pulse was thrumming in my ears, hard enough to split my head in half. It took me a minute to regain a relative state of calm.
"An earthquake? In another dimension? You're messing with me."
"I don't know! Maybe it was… maybe I was nearly jumping back, I have no idea." I shook my head, ignoring the throbbing pain shooting through my temples. "I don't have it all figured out yet, but it's an emotional response. Whenever my flight instinct gets triggered, these dimension switches happen. It was the jar. The jar is painful inside."
"What do you mean?" they asked, eagerly reaching for the jar and sticking their pinky finger into it. They pulled it back out with a howl, letting the jar drop to the floor. "What the hell is up with this place?"
"How would I know?" I argued hotly.
"Yeah, well. Anyways." All of a sudden, their hand was in my hair, tugging on my braid. They yanked my head to the side, and before I could break out my tentacles or try to snap my jaws at them, I could feel their hot breath on my nape. A scream died in my throat, equal parts painful and shocked. My eyes burned, my vision swimming when the cultist dragged their teeth across my skin, leaving a trail of warm saliva. And then, fast and without mercy, they bit down.
The lights turned bright white. The static buzzing that had been hanging in the stale air changed to the familiar eighties music tunes. Squinting into the sudden brightness, the colors of the countless types of packaged products filling the shelves almost seemed to be screaming at me.
We were back.
The cultist disentangled themself, quickly stepping away from me. I looked up, still dazed, to see why. Frankie Preston had come up behind us, snatching the cart away from the other person and pulling it out of their reach. I immediately scrambled up to wrap my arms around him. "That's them," I breathed. "From the Collective."
"I know," he said tonelessly. His eyes, trained on the blonde, spelled murder. "You should get out of here," he added, addressing them. "The shelves here are rickety, they might fall on you."
The cultist's expression was a frozen mix of suppressed uncertainty and confusion. Still, they held the server's gaze. "You should maybe not… do anything stupid," they uttered, their voice almost equally as flat as his.
"I'm all about stupid."
"Then I guess I ought to leave. See you guys soon. It was a pleasure." They threw us a smile that was faker than Frankie's when he waited tables before marching off, leaving the two of us alone in the aisle.
"Are you alright?" Fran asked, running a hand over my mussed braid. "What happened? I'm so… one minute you were here and the next…"
"We switched dimensions."
"I pieced that together. You weren't gone for long… just a couple minutes." He nervously twisted his wet bubble gum around the tip of his finger, drawing nervous strings.
"Were you worried?"
"Out of my mind," he said in a low voice, not meeting my gaze. "I mean, I knew you'd be okay on your own, I wasn't saying that—"
"I wasn't. I'm not," I interrupted him. "I got out alright, sure I did, but I'm not okay right now." I swallowed. My throat was bone dry. "I need to call Mary Markov. She should hear about this."
Frankie nodded along. "Do you want me to do it for you? I'm certain I can give her an accurate description."
I declined and sat back in the cart. Per my request, Fran brought me home after we'd paid for everything. I needed some time alone to relax and pretend everything was normal. I cleaned my room and then looked through job listings, which I admittedly haven't done in a little while. When I couldn't find any other way to procrastinate, I made the call to Mary Markov, which went about as well as could be expected. She wants to see me tomorrow, though. I wish she'd told me about what. For a newsreader, she's really not very forward with her information.
X
1
2: deadbeat roommate
3: creepy crush
4: relocation
5: beach concert
6: First date
7: Temp work
8: roommate talk
9: a dismal worldview
10: warehouse
11: staircase
12: explanation
13: hurt
14: hospital
15: ocean
16: diner
17: government work
18: something in the caves
2023.05.30 22:41 TimelyMushroom5369 [FS][USA] C4V 3MPT QUARTER ZIP + VINTAGE STYLE NAUT1CA SPELLOUT CREWNECK
pics w/ timestamp
paypal invoice only. buyer covers paypal fees. ALL SALES ARE FINAL. no returns/exchanges. i am not responsible for the item after providing tracking. i am not picky about flaws so i can't speak on them but feel free to request more pics.
WHEN READY TO BUY, PLEASE SEND ME YOUR PAYPAL EMAIL
---
ITEMS (shipping not included)
submitted by TimelyMushroom5369 to QualityRepsBST [link] [comments]
paypal invoice only. buyer covers paypal fees. ALL SALES ARE FINAL. no returns/exchanges. i am not responsible for the item after providing tracking. i am not picky about flaws so i can't speak on them but feel free to request more pics.
WHEN READY TO BUY, PLEASE SEND ME YOUR PAYPAL EMAIL
---
ITEMS (shipping not included)
- c4v 3mpt cream/navy quarter zip L: $60. pit to pit: ~65cm, length: ~74cm OVERSIZED
- DETAILED PICS. in inches: ~25.5W x ~29L
- only tried on! awesome piece, toweled material on inside. the dark parts are def navy in person though they look close to black in the pics. navy parts are a soft fuzzy material. too big for me unfortunately
- naut1ca vintage style spellout sweater M: $53. pit to pit: ~64cm, length: ~72cm -> OVERSIZED
- DETAILED PICS. ~25W x ~28.5L
- only tried on! more of a toweled material inside. pretty sturdy and seems to be great quality
2023.05.30 22:37 chuckhustmyre [TH] MIRROR IMAGE by Chuck Hustmyre
Sometimes when you look into the mirror, the mirror looks back.
William Bailey's forehead shattered the mirror like a sledgehammer. The last thing he remembered before he blacked out was the feeling that he was falling through the mirror. Sub-cranial hematoma, a concussion, maybe even a cracked skull--that had to be the reason for the strange feeling. The mirror was mounted on the wall just to the right of the bar, four feet tall by about three feet wide. As consciousness slipped away, common sense and his strong belief in the rational world told him that he couldn't fall through the mirror. He must have bounced his head off the wall and be falling toward the floor.
It seemed like just a second or two before William's eyes popped open. He lay on his back, on the hard wood floor of Fausto's, with Johnny Davis towering over him. Big Johnny probably wanted to finish him off, maybe kill him, and finally end their twenty-year-old feud. Either Big Johnny Davis and the ceiling lights above him were spinning, or William's head was spinning, but either way something wasn't right.
He raised his head and looked to his left, toward the bar. Except the bar wasn't there. Instead, he was staring at the bathrooms. That didn't make sense. It must be his brain that had gotten spun around. William turned his head and peered over his size-ten wingtips at the busted mirror. The wooden frame and most of the glass still clung to the wall, the rest sat broken on the ground. The bar had to be on his left. He looked again, and still saw the bathrooms. A brain bruise, maybe some fluid pressure building up might be the cause of it.
"Get up!" Big Johnny Davis said.
William looked up at him. Johnny stood behind him, just beyond his shoulders. Perfect place for him to stomp my head into the plank floor. Except Johnny Davis was holding out his hand.
"Come on, we've got to get out of here."
Davis looked scared. It was the first time William Bailey could ever remember Johnny Davis looking scared. William had always been scared of Big Johnny, but Big Johnny wasn't scared of anything or anyone.
Police sirens wailed in the distance.
Johnny glanced over his shoulder. William craned his neck to look where Johnny was looking, saw he was staring at the front door like a man terrified something bad was going to come through it. Big Johnny looked down at him again and pumped his hand. "Come on, get up. They'll be here any second."
"Who?" William asked. "Who'll be--" But before he finished, Big Johnny Davis reached down, grabbed him by both arms, and jerked him to his feet.
As he was dragged toward the door by the only man in town who truly hated him, William glanced up and saw the rusted metal sign nailed above the door. He had to have a concussion, probably severe; that had to be it, because the letters on the sign were backward. It said TUO.
As Johnny Davis pulled him out the door, William heard tires skid on the pavement.
"Where's your car?" Johnny asked.
William twisted away from the big man's grip, then turned to his left. "In the alley." He started to run, still not sure exactly what he was running from.
Behind him, Big John shouted, "The alley's over here."
William kept running but turned his head back toward Johnny. "I know where the alley--"
Something hit him across the midsection and toppled him to the ground. He got his hands up just in time to break his fall and managed to keep his head from slamming into the sidewalk. When he looked up he saw a shopping cart tumbled onto its side.
Once again, William found himself lying flat on his back, this time amid the spilled contents of the cart. It had been filled with junk: paper bags full of dirty clothes, canned food, bags of potato chips, a diamond shaped, orange road sign, and other trash that looked like it had been collected from back alley garbage bins.
The homeless man who'd been pushing the cart was scrawny, and wafer thin. His skin was the color of old shoe leather, and he wore a long gray beard, tangled and matted with food and bits of filth. He was sprawled on the ground next to his cart, half sitting up, staring at William with his bright blue eyes.
Car doors slammed, men shouted.
"You better get going," the homeless man said, as he cocked his head. "The police after you?"
Police!
Before William could assure the old man that the police weren't after him--he was a respected businessman and family man--someone behind him grabbed him under both arms and pulled him to his feet. William turned and found himself staring into the face of Johnny Davis. "The alley's that way," Johnny said, pointing to the other side of Fausto's. With one hand gripping William's jacket, Johnny dashed across the front of the bar toward the alley. The alley--right there, plain as day--on the other side of Fausto's, right where it shouldn't be, where it couldn't be. William had been here a thousand times. As you stepped out of the bar, the alley was on the left, Brockton's Ace Hardware on the right. Now everything was mixed up and in the wrong place.
Johnny Davis turned down the alley, dragging William behind him. After just a few steps, a spotlight flashed in front of them.
"Stop!" a voice commanded. "Get on the ground."
William couldn't see because Johnny was in his way. "Who's that yelling?" he asked.
Big Johnny stopped and William plowed into his back.
"Get on the ground," the voice boomed again.
William poked his head out from behind Johnny Davis's back. The blinding white light was in his face. He couldn't see a thing.
POP! POP! POP!
Gunshots.
Big Johnny sagged, then crashed to his knees. Instinctively, William bent forward and grabbed hold of Johnny. "What's the matter?"
More pops.
Johnny's big hand reached out and shoved William back toward the street. "Back door," he wheezed, then plunged forward onto his face.
William stood alone. Behind the white spotlight he saw blue police lights flashing. He was totally exposed.
POP! POP!
He saw flashes--little yellow spurts of flame--as something tugged at his jacket.
William had said "back door." What back door? Fausto's had a back door, but it didn't lead anywhere except to the open space behind the building used for trash and deliveries. Twenty feet of asphalt between the bar and the back of the building on the next block. William had parked his car at the end of the alley, but the police cars--or whatever they were--had the alley blocked off. The building behind Fausto's also had an alley that ran alongside it, but the owner had closed it off to keep the bums out. He'd put up a gate, padlocked it, and topped it with razor wire. It was a dead end.
Two more pops. Dead end or not it was better than standing here and getting shot. William turned and ran. He burst through the front door of Fausto's, dashed through the bar, past the shattered mirror, hit the back door at a dead run, and was outside behind the bar within seconds.
He could see the tail end of his car sticking out from the corner of the building, but with the cops blocking the alley, his car was useless to him. William glanced across the open space to the alley that ran next to the other building. The gate, the padlock, the razor wire--all still in place. To his right an overflowing garbage dumpster sat beside the back of Fausto's, jammed against the fire ladder.
The fire ladder.
An iron ladder bolted to the cinderblock wall.
William looked up. The top of the ladder was lost in shadow, but he knew it went up two stories to the roof. Last summer, when the toilet had stopped up, he'd come out back to take a leak and had stood behind the dumpster, peeing against the wall like a kid, one hand draped over the bottom rung of the ladder.
He slipped behind the dumpster. The smell made him gag. The bottom of the ladder was four feet from the ground. William reached up as high as he could, grabbed hold of the third rung, then hauled himself up.
Through the partially open back door came the sounds of heavy feet pounding on the hard wood floor of the bar.
Halfway up the ladder, he was exhausted--and scared. Shaking, he white-knuckled the ladder. Being more than ten feet off the ground terrified him. He needed a break, just a second or two to catch his breath. There was enough moonlight so he could see into one of the second story windows. Inside, junk was piled everywhere. Old barstools, a busted jukebox, furniture stacked almost to the ceiling. Years ago, old man Fausto lived on the second floor, but Jake, who'd bought the place from the old man and had decided to keep the name, used it for storage.
Below him, William heard the back door thrown open so hard it banged against the wall. He scrambled up until he reached the top of the ladder, then hoisted himself over the edge of the roof. Down on the ground a voice shouted, "There he is, up there."
Another gunshot. What the hell was going on?
The unmistakable sound of feet--fast feet, in shape feet, boot shod feet--scurrying up the ladder. Standing on the tar and pebble roof, William glanced around for something he could use as a weapon, shocked he was even thinking of such a thing. A five gallon plastic bucket was all there was. It stood upright, filled with rainwater. He picked it up and peered over the edge. A uniformed policeman was three quarters of the way up the ladder. Two more cops were right behind him.
William looked at the heavy bucket in his hands, thought about just dumping the water onto them but knew it wouldn't stop them. There was only one way to stop them, and that was to knock them off the ladder. He thought about warning them, maybe trying to scare them away. But they were cops. You couldn't scare them away.
So why had they shot Johnny Davis, and why were they shooting at him?
The first officer looked up and saw William staring down at him with the bucket in his hands. Their eyes locked for just a second and the cop stopped. In those eyes that stared back at him, William saw an almost maniacal determination that sent a shiver down his spine. The officer held his grip on the ladder with his right hand while his left dropped to the pistol resting in his gleaming leather holster. In one smooth motion he drew his gun and raised it toward William.
William Bailey tossed the bucket down the ladder. A shot rang out an instant before the heavy bucket thudded into the cop's head. Like a gruesome traffic accident happening before his eyes, William couldn't help but watch as the policeman fell, taking his two partners down with him. The last thing William saw before he turned away was a jumbled heap of black uniforms resting on the concrete below the ladder.
* * *
Hiding in the shadow of a telephone booth, thinking. Home. He had to get home. Had to get back to Marge and the kids. Maybe somehow he could explain what had happened. Vincent, his attorney, he would know what to do--maybe--but he was a civil lawyer not a criminal attorney. He wrote contracts and did personal injury on the side; he didn't get people out of jail who'd killed a cop by dropping a bucket of water on his head and knocking him and his buddies off the side of a building.
As the cab he'd been waiting for pulled up, William stepped out from the dark and climbed into the back seat.
The driver turned around. "Where to?"
William pulled the door shut. "Uptown. 1721 Audubon Court."
"Fare's gonna be about fifteen dollars. After dark, I gotta have the money up front."
"What?"
"Company policy." The cabbie shrugged. "A lot of drivers been getting stiffed."
William opened his wallet, pulled out a twenty and handed it across the seat. The driver took it and almost slipped it into his cash box, then took a second look at the bill. His face tightened. "What the hell is this?"
"Huh?"
With the bill stretched between his hands, the cabbie stared at it for a second then looked up at William. "You're either the dumbest counterfeiter who ever lived or you've been had."
"What you are talking about?"
The driver faced the bill toward William but didn't hand it back to him. "It's printed backwards."
William looked at the twenty-dollar bill in the man's hand. It looked like--it was--an almost brand new bill, nothing wrong with it as far as he could tell.
"Get out of my cab," the driver said.
William didn't know what the man was talking about but knew he didn't want to get out. This cab was his only way home. He reached for the twenty. "If you don't like that one I've got another--"
The driver pulled his hands away. "I ain't giving this back. I got to turn it in to the police." He dropped one hand behind his seat back, then came up clutching a pistol, an old German Luger by the looks of it, the muzzle aimed straight at William's face. "In fact, I bet they give me a reward if I bring you in with it."
William jerked the door handle and rolled out into the street. He sprang to his feet and ran, the driver's yells just background noise. Has everyone gone crazy or is it just me?
Home. He had to get home.
* * *
Rain. Driving, relentless rain. William was just two blocks from Fausto's. In two hours, that's as far as he'd gotten--one block an hour. Police cars prowled the neighborhood, shinning spotlights into every nook and cranny, lighting up every shadow. Everyone in Fausto's knew his name. He'd been going there three or four nights a week after work for years. The cabbie had his address. William had given it to him when he told the hack driver where to drop him.
Ten o'clock at night, with nowhere to go and no way to get there, William sat behind the closed Goodwill store, under an overhang that barely kept the rain off of him.
Huddled in the dark, head sunk between his knees, he hadn't heard anyone approach.
"You don't look so good."
Startled, William looked up, prepared to run again. It was the homeless man he'd knocked over outside the bar. The one with the shopping cart and the leathery skin. William relaxed a little. "Excuse me?"
The man pushed his cart closer. "You're not supposed to be here."
William looked around. "Why not?"
The old man grinned, half his teeth gone.
William found it nearly impossible to tell his age. The guy could be forty and maybe had lived a hard life, or perhaps he was a well-preserved seventy, pickled by a lifetime of booze. William waved him off, expecting a plea for money. "I can't help you."
The old man stopped just a few feet away. "Everything's out of place isn't it?" He had a strange lilting voice. Almost like an accent.
And he was right. Everything was out of place--from Johnny Davis to the cab driver--everything was wrong.
Strapped to the back of the old man's shopping cart was a plastic sign about the size of a loaf of bread. William recognized the sign, the words, the colors, the logo of a local supermarket chain, all were familiar to him, but the letters were backward, unreadable.
Rainwater ran down William's face. He pointed to the sign. "Why's it written like that?"
The old man looked at the sign then back at William. "Like what?" he said, then shuffled away behind his basket.
* * *
The rain came down even harder. William slouched in a darkened doorway across the street from Fausto's. Nothing made sense. Everything was messed up, backward, out of whack. Almost like this wasn't his home, like he was a stranger seeing it for the first time.
But that was crazy. He'd grown up here, gone to Brother Martin High School, dated Jenny Underhill who went to Cabrini, lost her to Johnny Davis, then got her back only to lose her again the first year of college to some kid who drove a Mustang. Two years later William married Marge at Saint Luke's. They had two kids.
This town was his home. He recognized it. He knew the people here, Big Johnny and Zeke, the bartender at Fausto's. But things were different, little things. John Davis for one. In trying to help him, the big man had gotten himself killed. That wasn't John Davis--at least not the one William Bailey had known since seventh grade. Everything looked the same but wasn't. Nothing was quite right.
But they knew him--or someone like him.
A strange sensation crept over him that made the hair on the back of his neck rise. Maybe he didn't belong here. Maybe everything wasn't as it appeared. Maybe this wasn't his home. But if that were true, then whose home was it? Another thought, even scarier seeped through his brain. If he was here, who was there--at his home?
Crazy.
William dropped his head into his hands. Just considering such nonsense was a waste of time. Yet, here he was scanning the street, thinking of going back inside Fausto's, back to that mirror.
Not much time to think about it. The bar closed at three AM and it was already two-thirty. When he'd left--run for his life with Big Johnny--most of the mirror was still in the frame hanging on the wall.
Something about that damned mirror.
But Fausto's was dangerous, so a couple of hours ago William had found another mirror. In the men's room of a twenty-four hour gas station. The Chevron on North Rampart.
He had approached it cautiously, afraid he was going mad. As he peered over the sink into the mirror, he saw what he always saw, his own reflection. Holding up his left hand, he looked at the image in the mirror, at the watch strapped to his wrist. He noticed that the man in the mirror wore his watch on his right hand. Just the opposite.
William stood in the gas station bathroom for twenty minutes before he worked up his nerve. Finally, he took a deep breath, leaned back, then slammed his forehead into the dirt-streaked mirror. The glass shattered and cut his head. Blood dribbled off the tip of his nose into the sink. His reflection stared out at him from the other side of the mirror, blood running down his face, too.
I have gone crazy!
So the gas station hadn't worked out. Ducking police cruisers, William had wandered the streets, his head reeling. What was he doing?
On the sidewalk, he found a sopping wet magazine that the wind had blown up against the side of a newspaper machine. The cover caught his eye. He picked it up. It was printed backwards, the letters reversed, words running right to left. The spine was on the right. As he flipped through the pages, he couldn't read a thing. Then William had an idea.
In the bathroom of an all night restaurant he held the wet magazine up to the mirror. Perfect. The reflected image was normal, spine on the left, words running left to right, all the letters printed correctly. He could read it clearly. But what did it mean?
Then he drove his head into that mirror. The glass cracked. Someone walked in, a skinny waiter wearing an apron. He stood gawking as William leaned over the sink with tears of pain filling his eyes.
The waiter looked at the broken mirror, then jabbed a finger at William's bloody forehead. "What the hell are you doing?"
"An accident," he mumbled, pressing his fingers against the fresh cut.
The waiter turned. "I'm calling the cops."
William Bailey ran.
Now he was huddled in the rain staring at Fausto's across the street. Because he had nowhere else to go.
He stood and walked toward Fausto's. When he was halfway across the street, a police car glided around the corner, headlights reflecting off the wet pavement. The cops in no hurry, just cruising. William forced himself to keep walking, not to run. One foot in front of the other. In the downpour, odds were that the cops wouldn't even recognize him.
But they did recognize him.
The police car slid to a stop as its high beams clicked on and its blue strobe lights started popping. Both front doors flew open.
Like a sinner seeking the sanctuary of a church, William ran straight for Fausto's door. As he burst inside, Zeke looked up from behind the bar. "William! What the hell are you doing here?"
He ignored the bartender, running right past him, eyes focused on the broken mirror and its busted frame hanging on the wall.
Zeke again, "The cops been looking all over for you. Say you killed two officers and--"
Behind him the front door banged against the wall. "Police!" a voice behind him commanded. "Stop."
But William didn't stop. He kept running--running straight for the mirror. Reflected in its fragmented pieces he saw two uniformed police officers behind him, heard their boots pounding on the wooden floor. Just ten feet separated him from the mirror. At full speed he took two strides then dove. He stretched his arms out overhead and tucked his chin into his chest as his feet left the floor.
He felt one hand hit wall and the other strike broken glass. Then his head hit. More glass cracked, more skin split.
Darkness.
* * *
William's eyes popped open. He was staring at the ceiling. Rough voices, even rougher hands. They rolled him over onto his stomach and jerked his arms behind his back. He felt cold steel on his wrists and heard the metallic ratcheting as the handcuffs tightened and bit into his skin.
He tilted his head up and rested his chin against the floor. Blood poured down the side of his face; he watched it pool on the floor then seep between the wooden planks. By rolling his eyes up he could just see the empty spot on the wall where the mirror had hung. Lying on the floor, three feet from his head, was the broken frame and the rest of the glass.
The two cops grabbed his arms and yanked him to his feet, sending waves of pain through his shoulders and wrists. As they spun him toward the door, one of the officers said, "You're under arrest."
"Why?" William asked.
The officer pressed his face into William's. "Murdering your family for starters."
"My...my family." William felt his stomach cinch and his bowels turn to ice. A thought he'd had earlier in the night echoed inside his head. If he was here, who was there--at his home.
As the cops dragged him across the floor, William glanced up and saw the rusted metal sign nailed above the door.
OUT.
He was home.
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William Bailey's forehead shattered the mirror like a sledgehammer. The last thing he remembered before he blacked out was the feeling that he was falling through the mirror. Sub-cranial hematoma, a concussion, maybe even a cracked skull--that had to be the reason for the strange feeling. The mirror was mounted on the wall just to the right of the bar, four feet tall by about three feet wide. As consciousness slipped away, common sense and his strong belief in the rational world told him that he couldn't fall through the mirror. He must have bounced his head off the wall and be falling toward the floor.
It seemed like just a second or two before William's eyes popped open. He lay on his back, on the hard wood floor of Fausto's, with Johnny Davis towering over him. Big Johnny probably wanted to finish him off, maybe kill him, and finally end their twenty-year-old feud. Either Big Johnny Davis and the ceiling lights above him were spinning, or William's head was spinning, but either way something wasn't right.
He raised his head and looked to his left, toward the bar. Except the bar wasn't there. Instead, he was staring at the bathrooms. That didn't make sense. It must be his brain that had gotten spun around. William turned his head and peered over his size-ten wingtips at the busted mirror. The wooden frame and most of the glass still clung to the wall, the rest sat broken on the ground. The bar had to be on his left. He looked again, and still saw the bathrooms. A brain bruise, maybe some fluid pressure building up might be the cause of it.
"Get up!" Big Johnny Davis said.
William looked up at him. Johnny stood behind him, just beyond his shoulders. Perfect place for him to stomp my head into the plank floor. Except Johnny Davis was holding out his hand.
"Come on, we've got to get out of here."
Davis looked scared. It was the first time William Bailey could ever remember Johnny Davis looking scared. William had always been scared of Big Johnny, but Big Johnny wasn't scared of anything or anyone.
Police sirens wailed in the distance.
Johnny glanced over his shoulder. William craned his neck to look where Johnny was looking, saw he was staring at the front door like a man terrified something bad was going to come through it. Big Johnny looked down at him again and pumped his hand. "Come on, get up. They'll be here any second."
"Who?" William asked. "Who'll be--" But before he finished, Big Johnny Davis reached down, grabbed him by both arms, and jerked him to his feet.
As he was dragged toward the door by the only man in town who truly hated him, William glanced up and saw the rusted metal sign nailed above the door. He had to have a concussion, probably severe; that had to be it, because the letters on the sign were backward. It said TUO.
As Johnny Davis pulled him out the door, William heard tires skid on the pavement.
"Where's your car?" Johnny asked.
William twisted away from the big man's grip, then turned to his left. "In the alley." He started to run, still not sure exactly what he was running from.
Behind him, Big John shouted, "The alley's over here."
William kept running but turned his head back toward Johnny. "I know where the alley--"
Something hit him across the midsection and toppled him to the ground. He got his hands up just in time to break his fall and managed to keep his head from slamming into the sidewalk. When he looked up he saw a shopping cart tumbled onto its side.
Once again, William found himself lying flat on his back, this time amid the spilled contents of the cart. It had been filled with junk: paper bags full of dirty clothes, canned food, bags of potato chips, a diamond shaped, orange road sign, and other trash that looked like it had been collected from back alley garbage bins.
The homeless man who'd been pushing the cart was scrawny, and wafer thin. His skin was the color of old shoe leather, and he wore a long gray beard, tangled and matted with food and bits of filth. He was sprawled on the ground next to his cart, half sitting up, staring at William with his bright blue eyes.
Car doors slammed, men shouted.
"You better get going," the homeless man said, as he cocked his head. "The police after you?"
Police!
Before William could assure the old man that the police weren't after him--he was a respected businessman and family man--someone behind him grabbed him under both arms and pulled him to his feet. William turned and found himself staring into the face of Johnny Davis. "The alley's that way," Johnny said, pointing to the other side of Fausto's. With one hand gripping William's jacket, Johnny dashed across the front of the bar toward the alley. The alley--right there, plain as day--on the other side of Fausto's, right where it shouldn't be, where it couldn't be. William had been here a thousand times. As you stepped out of the bar, the alley was on the left, Brockton's Ace Hardware on the right. Now everything was mixed up and in the wrong place.
Johnny Davis turned down the alley, dragging William behind him. After just a few steps, a spotlight flashed in front of them.
"Stop!" a voice commanded. "Get on the ground."
William couldn't see because Johnny was in his way. "Who's that yelling?" he asked.
Big Johnny stopped and William plowed into his back.
"Get on the ground," the voice boomed again.
William poked his head out from behind Johnny Davis's back. The blinding white light was in his face. He couldn't see a thing.
POP! POP! POP!
Gunshots.
Big Johnny sagged, then crashed to his knees. Instinctively, William bent forward and grabbed hold of Johnny. "What's the matter?"
More pops.
Johnny's big hand reached out and shoved William back toward the street. "Back door," he wheezed, then plunged forward onto his face.
William stood alone. Behind the white spotlight he saw blue police lights flashing. He was totally exposed.
POP! POP!
He saw flashes--little yellow spurts of flame--as something tugged at his jacket.
William had said "back door." What back door? Fausto's had a back door, but it didn't lead anywhere except to the open space behind the building used for trash and deliveries. Twenty feet of asphalt between the bar and the back of the building on the next block. William had parked his car at the end of the alley, but the police cars--or whatever they were--had the alley blocked off. The building behind Fausto's also had an alley that ran alongside it, but the owner had closed it off to keep the bums out. He'd put up a gate, padlocked it, and topped it with razor wire. It was a dead end.
Two more pops. Dead end or not it was better than standing here and getting shot. William turned and ran. He burst through the front door of Fausto's, dashed through the bar, past the shattered mirror, hit the back door at a dead run, and was outside behind the bar within seconds.
He could see the tail end of his car sticking out from the corner of the building, but with the cops blocking the alley, his car was useless to him. William glanced across the open space to the alley that ran next to the other building. The gate, the padlock, the razor wire--all still in place. To his right an overflowing garbage dumpster sat beside the back of Fausto's, jammed against the fire ladder.
The fire ladder.
An iron ladder bolted to the cinderblock wall.
William looked up. The top of the ladder was lost in shadow, but he knew it went up two stories to the roof. Last summer, when the toilet had stopped up, he'd come out back to take a leak and had stood behind the dumpster, peeing against the wall like a kid, one hand draped over the bottom rung of the ladder.
He slipped behind the dumpster. The smell made him gag. The bottom of the ladder was four feet from the ground. William reached up as high as he could, grabbed hold of the third rung, then hauled himself up.
Through the partially open back door came the sounds of heavy feet pounding on the hard wood floor of the bar.
Halfway up the ladder, he was exhausted--and scared. Shaking, he white-knuckled the ladder. Being more than ten feet off the ground terrified him. He needed a break, just a second or two to catch his breath. There was enough moonlight so he could see into one of the second story windows. Inside, junk was piled everywhere. Old barstools, a busted jukebox, furniture stacked almost to the ceiling. Years ago, old man Fausto lived on the second floor, but Jake, who'd bought the place from the old man and had decided to keep the name, used it for storage.
Below him, William heard the back door thrown open so hard it banged against the wall. He scrambled up until he reached the top of the ladder, then hoisted himself over the edge of the roof. Down on the ground a voice shouted, "There he is, up there."
Another gunshot. What the hell was going on?
The unmistakable sound of feet--fast feet, in shape feet, boot shod feet--scurrying up the ladder. Standing on the tar and pebble roof, William glanced around for something he could use as a weapon, shocked he was even thinking of such a thing. A five gallon plastic bucket was all there was. It stood upright, filled with rainwater. He picked it up and peered over the edge. A uniformed policeman was three quarters of the way up the ladder. Two more cops were right behind him.
William looked at the heavy bucket in his hands, thought about just dumping the water onto them but knew it wouldn't stop them. There was only one way to stop them, and that was to knock them off the ladder. He thought about warning them, maybe trying to scare them away. But they were cops. You couldn't scare them away.
So why had they shot Johnny Davis, and why were they shooting at him?
The first officer looked up and saw William staring down at him with the bucket in his hands. Their eyes locked for just a second and the cop stopped. In those eyes that stared back at him, William saw an almost maniacal determination that sent a shiver down his spine. The officer held his grip on the ladder with his right hand while his left dropped to the pistol resting in his gleaming leather holster. In one smooth motion he drew his gun and raised it toward William.
William Bailey tossed the bucket down the ladder. A shot rang out an instant before the heavy bucket thudded into the cop's head. Like a gruesome traffic accident happening before his eyes, William couldn't help but watch as the policeman fell, taking his two partners down with him. The last thing William saw before he turned away was a jumbled heap of black uniforms resting on the concrete below the ladder.
* * *
Hiding in the shadow of a telephone booth, thinking. Home. He had to get home. Had to get back to Marge and the kids. Maybe somehow he could explain what had happened. Vincent, his attorney, he would know what to do--maybe--but he was a civil lawyer not a criminal attorney. He wrote contracts and did personal injury on the side; he didn't get people out of jail who'd killed a cop by dropping a bucket of water on his head and knocking him and his buddies off the side of a building.
As the cab he'd been waiting for pulled up, William stepped out from the dark and climbed into the back seat.
The driver turned around. "Where to?"
William pulled the door shut. "Uptown. 1721 Audubon Court."
"Fare's gonna be about fifteen dollars. After dark, I gotta have the money up front."
"What?"
"Company policy." The cabbie shrugged. "A lot of drivers been getting stiffed."
William opened his wallet, pulled out a twenty and handed it across the seat. The driver took it and almost slipped it into his cash box, then took a second look at the bill. His face tightened. "What the hell is this?"
"Huh?"
With the bill stretched between his hands, the cabbie stared at it for a second then looked up at William. "You're either the dumbest counterfeiter who ever lived or you've been had."
"What you are talking about?"
The driver faced the bill toward William but didn't hand it back to him. "It's printed backwards."
William looked at the twenty-dollar bill in the man's hand. It looked like--it was--an almost brand new bill, nothing wrong with it as far as he could tell.
"Get out of my cab," the driver said.
William didn't know what the man was talking about but knew he didn't want to get out. This cab was his only way home. He reached for the twenty. "If you don't like that one I've got another--"
The driver pulled his hands away. "I ain't giving this back. I got to turn it in to the police." He dropped one hand behind his seat back, then came up clutching a pistol, an old German Luger by the looks of it, the muzzle aimed straight at William's face. "In fact, I bet they give me a reward if I bring you in with it."
William jerked the door handle and rolled out into the street. He sprang to his feet and ran, the driver's yells just background noise. Has everyone gone crazy or is it just me?
Home. He had to get home.
* * *
Rain. Driving, relentless rain. William was just two blocks from Fausto's. In two hours, that's as far as he'd gotten--one block an hour. Police cars prowled the neighborhood, shinning spotlights into every nook and cranny, lighting up every shadow. Everyone in Fausto's knew his name. He'd been going there three or four nights a week after work for years. The cabbie had his address. William had given it to him when he told the hack driver where to drop him.
Ten o'clock at night, with nowhere to go and no way to get there, William sat behind the closed Goodwill store, under an overhang that barely kept the rain off of him.
Huddled in the dark, head sunk between his knees, he hadn't heard anyone approach.
"You don't look so good."
Startled, William looked up, prepared to run again. It was the homeless man he'd knocked over outside the bar. The one with the shopping cart and the leathery skin. William relaxed a little. "Excuse me?"
The man pushed his cart closer. "You're not supposed to be here."
William looked around. "Why not?"
The old man grinned, half his teeth gone.
William found it nearly impossible to tell his age. The guy could be forty and maybe had lived a hard life, or perhaps he was a well-preserved seventy, pickled by a lifetime of booze. William waved him off, expecting a plea for money. "I can't help you."
The old man stopped just a few feet away. "Everything's out of place isn't it?" He had a strange lilting voice. Almost like an accent.
And he was right. Everything was out of place--from Johnny Davis to the cab driver--everything was wrong.
Strapped to the back of the old man's shopping cart was a plastic sign about the size of a loaf of bread. William recognized the sign, the words, the colors, the logo of a local supermarket chain, all were familiar to him, but the letters were backward, unreadable.
Rainwater ran down William's face. He pointed to the sign. "Why's it written like that?"
The old man looked at the sign then back at William. "Like what?" he said, then shuffled away behind his basket.
* * *
The rain came down even harder. William slouched in a darkened doorway across the street from Fausto's. Nothing made sense. Everything was messed up, backward, out of whack. Almost like this wasn't his home, like he was a stranger seeing it for the first time.
But that was crazy. He'd grown up here, gone to Brother Martin High School, dated Jenny Underhill who went to Cabrini, lost her to Johnny Davis, then got her back only to lose her again the first year of college to some kid who drove a Mustang. Two years later William married Marge at Saint Luke's. They had two kids.
This town was his home. He recognized it. He knew the people here, Big Johnny and Zeke, the bartender at Fausto's. But things were different, little things. John Davis for one. In trying to help him, the big man had gotten himself killed. That wasn't John Davis--at least not the one William Bailey had known since seventh grade. Everything looked the same but wasn't. Nothing was quite right.
But they knew him--or someone like him.
A strange sensation crept over him that made the hair on the back of his neck rise. Maybe he didn't belong here. Maybe everything wasn't as it appeared. Maybe this wasn't his home. But if that were true, then whose home was it? Another thought, even scarier seeped through his brain. If he was here, who was there--at his home?
Crazy.
William dropped his head into his hands. Just considering such nonsense was a waste of time. Yet, here he was scanning the street, thinking of going back inside Fausto's, back to that mirror.
Not much time to think about it. The bar closed at three AM and it was already two-thirty. When he'd left--run for his life with Big Johnny--most of the mirror was still in the frame hanging on the wall.
Something about that damned mirror.
But Fausto's was dangerous, so a couple of hours ago William had found another mirror. In the men's room of a twenty-four hour gas station. The Chevron on North Rampart.
He had approached it cautiously, afraid he was going mad. As he peered over the sink into the mirror, he saw what he always saw, his own reflection. Holding up his left hand, he looked at the image in the mirror, at the watch strapped to his wrist. He noticed that the man in the mirror wore his watch on his right hand. Just the opposite.
William stood in the gas station bathroom for twenty minutes before he worked up his nerve. Finally, he took a deep breath, leaned back, then slammed his forehead into the dirt-streaked mirror. The glass shattered and cut his head. Blood dribbled off the tip of his nose into the sink. His reflection stared out at him from the other side of the mirror, blood running down his face, too.
I have gone crazy!
So the gas station hadn't worked out. Ducking police cruisers, William had wandered the streets, his head reeling. What was he doing?
On the sidewalk, he found a sopping wet magazine that the wind had blown up against the side of a newspaper machine. The cover caught his eye. He picked it up. It was printed backwards, the letters reversed, words running right to left. The spine was on the right. As he flipped through the pages, he couldn't read a thing. Then William had an idea.
In the bathroom of an all night restaurant he held the wet magazine up to the mirror. Perfect. The reflected image was normal, spine on the left, words running left to right, all the letters printed correctly. He could read it clearly. But what did it mean?
Then he drove his head into that mirror. The glass cracked. Someone walked in, a skinny waiter wearing an apron. He stood gawking as William leaned over the sink with tears of pain filling his eyes.
The waiter looked at the broken mirror, then jabbed a finger at William's bloody forehead. "What the hell are you doing?"
"An accident," he mumbled, pressing his fingers against the fresh cut.
The waiter turned. "I'm calling the cops."
William Bailey ran.
Now he was huddled in the rain staring at Fausto's across the street. Because he had nowhere else to go.
He stood and walked toward Fausto's. When he was halfway across the street, a police car glided around the corner, headlights reflecting off the wet pavement. The cops in no hurry, just cruising. William forced himself to keep walking, not to run. One foot in front of the other. In the downpour, odds were that the cops wouldn't even recognize him.
But they did recognize him.
The police car slid to a stop as its high beams clicked on and its blue strobe lights started popping. Both front doors flew open.
Like a sinner seeking the sanctuary of a church, William ran straight for Fausto's door. As he burst inside, Zeke looked up from behind the bar. "William! What the hell are you doing here?"
He ignored the bartender, running right past him, eyes focused on the broken mirror and its busted frame hanging on the wall.
Zeke again, "The cops been looking all over for you. Say you killed two officers and--"
Behind him the front door banged against the wall. "Police!" a voice behind him commanded. "Stop."
But William didn't stop. He kept running--running straight for the mirror. Reflected in its fragmented pieces he saw two uniformed police officers behind him, heard their boots pounding on the wooden floor. Just ten feet separated him from the mirror. At full speed he took two strides then dove. He stretched his arms out overhead and tucked his chin into his chest as his feet left the floor.
He felt one hand hit wall and the other strike broken glass. Then his head hit. More glass cracked, more skin split.
Darkness.
* * *
William's eyes popped open. He was staring at the ceiling. Rough voices, even rougher hands. They rolled him over onto his stomach and jerked his arms behind his back. He felt cold steel on his wrists and heard the metallic ratcheting as the handcuffs tightened and bit into his skin.
He tilted his head up and rested his chin against the floor. Blood poured down the side of his face; he watched it pool on the floor then seep between the wooden planks. By rolling his eyes up he could just see the empty spot on the wall where the mirror had hung. Lying on the floor, three feet from his head, was the broken frame and the rest of the glass.
The two cops grabbed his arms and yanked him to his feet, sending waves of pain through his shoulders and wrists. As they spun him toward the door, one of the officers said, "You're under arrest."
"Why?" William asked.
The officer pressed his face into William's. "Murdering your family for starters."
"My...my family." William felt his stomach cinch and his bowels turn to ice. A thought he'd had earlier in the night echoed inside his head. If he was here, who was there--at his home.
As the cops dragged him across the floor, William glanced up and saw the rusted metal sign nailed above the door.
OUT.
He was home.
2023.05.30 22:26 SuellioAlmeida 50 Sim Racing Mistakes From Beginner to Pro Levels
This is the ULTIMATE Sim Racing Mistakes List. If you want to become the best racing driver you can be, this is for you. If you just want to have fun and don’t care about your sim racing performance, then skip it without going to the comment sections saying "I just wanna have fun" lol. Some things are just not going to be easy to solve so get ready to get out of your comfort zone.
Ready? Ok, let’s go.
1- DO NOT use the ideal racing line! This completely fucks up your vision technique and you create terrible habits. Train your eyes and learn how to scan the track!
2- Do NOT use Driving Assists! Should I really explain this one?
3- Do NOT use the Chase camera. Onboard cameras like hood, bumper or cockpit view will be much better for performance and precision.
4- Look forward! Try to aim where you want your car to go. Scan the track, don’t just keep looking right in front of your hood. Your eyes have to be looking to the next target every second. Ever heard of Guitar Hero? The good players look at the notes as high as possible, as soon as they show up on the screen!
5- Don’t get right away in a race without practicing! Learn the track and be consistent before racing to make sure you improve as a driver in the future and prevent getting bad habits!
6- Don’t turn graphics up if you can’t keep your FPS high! High FPS is essential, and if you’re stuck with 60hz, turn V-Sync off to minimize input lag.
7- Don’t get used to a wrong posture just because you started with it first and it feels natural! Make sure your seating position is proper to prevent getting hurt in the future!
8- You’re not making sure you’re using ALL the track. When I say ALL the track, I mean AAAAAALL the track. To the centimeter! You may think you are but you are NOT. Align the white lines or grass to something in cockpit view to improve your track usage consistency.
9- STOP changing your line or angle expecting the car to behave exactly the same way! Find a line, align the car with the entry kerb or something and DO THAT lap after lap!
10- STOP Braking Randomly! Find braking references to the meter and brake there lap after lap!
11- Stop holding your breath while driving into corners! This makes you tense up more than necessary and your driving will be worse. Try to breathe normally while driving. Depending on how bad your habit of tensing up is, you should be slower for a few days until you get used to it.
12- Stop releasing the brakes quickly from full pressure to zero! You’re just popping up the front tires and understeering terribly, and you’re losing many seconds per lap because of this. Learn how to trail brake!
12 - STOP STRANGLING THE STEERING WHEEL! You’ll hurt yourself and have a much less fun experience driving. Instead, use the Light Hands Technique and feel what the car wants from you.
13- Stop doing blind laps! Just doing 500 laps without analyzing your driving is the easiest way to become a terrible driver. If you only believe in talent and nothing else, you might be creating bad habits that you’ll carry forever in your driving. FIND THE INEFFICIENCIES!
14- Stop applying the brakes too slowly. There are places to be smooth, but brake application should not be slow. You should take no more than half a second between initial application and peak pressure.
15- You’re using the wrong settings because you were lazy to research the right ones! Take some time to make sure everything is perfect, and that includes steering range, linearity of the pedals, deadzones, calibration, force feedback!
16- You’re using the wrong Field of View. Use a FOV Calculator and find your ideal one. You can increase it a bit, like 10% more, but keep it close to the ideal to be more precise, even if it feels a little bit too slow!
17- Stop keeping the steering fixed while turning into the corner! You should only keep the steering fixed if your speed is fixed, and this is very rare in motor racing! You should almost always increase your steering on corner entry and decrease your steering on corner exit, continuously!
18- KEEP THE HEEL OFF THE PLATE WHILE BRAKING! Unless you’re driving with an extremely light brake pedal, you should feel the pressure on the ball of your foot, and it should naturally lift your heel just a little bit!
19- STOP turning in with 100% brakes and relying on ABS. Learn how to control the brakes with finesse. Drive cars with ABS as if they didn’t have them.
20 -Stop looking directly at other cars while racing! Your peripheral vision is good enough to know they’re there. Keep looking for useful places on the track to know where you are.
21- Stop giving way too much space when fighting for position. This makes your pass actually more dangerous as you will most likely run wide on the exit and hit your fellow competitor.
22- DO NOT downshift randomly! Pay attention to the timing of your downshifts, they’ll play an essential role in the car balance on all stages of the corner, and have an impact even on exit, of course!
23- Stop practicing if you’re tired! If you’re plateauing and not improving at all, don’t let the frustration consume you. Take a break, watch a team mate driving, get up, stretch, have some sleep!
24- Don’t turn in fast while trail braking. Your front tires don’t have infinite grip! If you’re braking, turn-in slowly. If you’re coasting, changing direction, or accelerating, turn in fast.
25- Do not drive alone all the time! Try to compare your driving with teammates, help them improve and let them help you improve. This is a win-win for everyone.
26- If you go off-track, PLEASE don’t try to desperately come back on track. If you keep turning too much back to the inside, you’ll spin right away!
27- Stop releasing the brakes in a High Downforce car consistently! You should release it slowly on a straight line as you lose downforce, but then more quickly as you turn in, so your braking trace should have TWO lines, the second one being steeper!
28- Stop releasing the brakes too much on a straight line in a low downforce car! You should keep your brakes fairly flat on the same pressure, so release no more than 10% in that phase! Start actually releasing the brakes only when you start turning in!
29- Stop driving the same way in cambered or off-cambered corners! If there’s more grip, you should force the car more, if there’s a hill, or a crest, or off-camber, you should ask for less rotation, less deceleration, less acceleration!
30- Don’t coast. Having no brakes and no throttle should be a rare situation. For 99% of the cars, you should be trailbraking until you get back on power to get proper rotation and be able to brake later.
31- Stop driving purely through understeer. This means you’re not properly using the rear grip and carrying less speed through all corners. Rotate that thing!
32- Stop relying only on steering to rotate the car! Make sure you’re also consciously using engine braking and trail braking as tools for rotation!
33- Please don’t change your line if you’re the slower car in a multiclass being overtaken by a faster class. Let them do the job and prevent crashes!
34- Don’t forget to practice your pit entries! This can save previous seconds and penalties in endurance events!
35- Stop being under the limit for the sake of consistency. You’re in a simulator, if you’re practicing, abuse the car as much as possible. You’ll learn when sliding. You will NOT learn when not sliding.
36- Stop getting on half-throttle and understeering like a pig mid corner. Find the traction limit and stay there, so you keep the rotation where it was before!
37- Stop trying to gain rotation on throttle! This is one of the most dangerous ways to spin. You’re probably doing it because the car is understeering on entry and you’re compensating that. What about making the car rotate more on entry in the first place?
38- Do not turn in slowly in flat-out corners! You should turn in slowly if you’re braking, but much more quickly when accelerating!
39- Stop changing the car setup to solve your bad habits. Try to correct the balance of the car through driving inputs before you make changes. This will help you be more liked by your teammates in endurance events.
40- Don’t increase the brake pressure mid-corner too much! Although in some cases, you have to do it to compensate for a mistake on corner entry, trying to gain rotation on the brakes mid-corner should be avoided. Use it as a sign that you made something wrong on turn-in. The perfect line has your brake trace going DOWN and only DOWN all the way to the apex.
41- Applying the brakes too fast while coming from another corner. If you start braking as fast as if you were in a straight line but with the car completely unloaded on one side, you’ll instantly lock up the unloaded side or get into ABS and unsettle the car.
42- DO NOT go straight in between compound corners! If you’re sacrificing the line of a corner to improve the next one, use the lateral grip in every inch in between to improve your exit speeds!
43- Stop using the throttle on corner entry! Only a few cars with open-differential require maintenance throttle to control the balance. In most cars, braking and accelerating are like asking them to do opposite things at the same time. And the result is a lazy and unresponsive car.
44- Do NOT turn the steering linearly on corner entry in Low Downforce cars. If the car is low downforce, it’ll have V-shaped lines, which means your steering trace should be progressive and exponential, not linear.
45- Stop relaxing and hesitating after turn-in oversteer, which makes you under the limit for a fraction of a second before you turn-in again mid-corner. Try to make micro-corrections on entry but immediately come back to using the rears, so you keep them busy at all stages of the corner!
46- Stop correcting oversteer with Active Countersteer, where you’re actively turning towards the outside. Let the force feedback do the correction for you!
47- Stop braking the same way in elevation changes! If the track is going up into a compression, sometimes you can brake up to 20% more, and if the track is going over a hill, sometimes you should brake even 50% less!
48- Stop doing the same lines in double-apexes in cars with different downforce levels! If the car is high-downforce, the distance between the apexes should be smaller, and if the car is low-downforce, the distance should be much bigger!
49- When accelerating, make sure you time the speed of the first vertical application to the traction limit from corner to corner. If the corner tends to be oversteery on exit, apply it a little bit slower, like over three tenths of a second, but if the corner tends to be understeery on exit, apply the throttle more quickly, like over one tenth of a second, to keep the car rotating!
50- When correcting oversteer on entry, focus on inducing understeer with the brake release by letting the rotation of the car be a trigger for your brake release. This will make sure your front tires are busy and optimal at all times while you manage the rear tires and oversteer with your pedal release!
If you want to be a good driver, write down the ones that you identified with, then put them to practice. You won’t magically improve, so get your shit together and be disciplined.
A bit of advertising on my coaching work: I have complete and detailed lessons ready to go on my online course, The Motor Racing Checklist. They cover all of these tips in-depth. The course has 1750 participants so far with incredible feedback from drivers of all levels. I’m also writing a book version of The Motor Racing Checklist that is being developed for years and is in its final publishing process with the editor.
If you have any question, leave a comment and I’ll respond as soon as possible!
Remember to have fun on track ;)
Suellio Almeida Racing Driver, Coach, Content Creator
submitted by SuellioAlmeida to simracing [link] [comments]
Ready? Ok, let’s go.
1- DO NOT use the ideal racing line! This completely fucks up your vision technique and you create terrible habits. Train your eyes and learn how to scan the track!
2- Do NOT use Driving Assists! Should I really explain this one?
3- Do NOT use the Chase camera. Onboard cameras like hood, bumper or cockpit view will be much better for performance and precision.
4- Look forward! Try to aim where you want your car to go. Scan the track, don’t just keep looking right in front of your hood. Your eyes have to be looking to the next target every second. Ever heard of Guitar Hero? The good players look at the notes as high as possible, as soon as they show up on the screen!
5- Don’t get right away in a race without practicing! Learn the track and be consistent before racing to make sure you improve as a driver in the future and prevent getting bad habits!
6- Don’t turn graphics up if you can’t keep your FPS high! High FPS is essential, and if you’re stuck with 60hz, turn V-Sync off to minimize input lag.
7- Don’t get used to a wrong posture just because you started with it first and it feels natural! Make sure your seating position is proper to prevent getting hurt in the future!
8- You’re not making sure you’re using ALL the track. When I say ALL the track, I mean AAAAAALL the track. To the centimeter! You may think you are but you are NOT. Align the white lines or grass to something in cockpit view to improve your track usage consistency.
9- STOP changing your line or angle expecting the car to behave exactly the same way! Find a line, align the car with the entry kerb or something and DO THAT lap after lap!
10- STOP Braking Randomly! Find braking references to the meter and brake there lap after lap!
11- Stop holding your breath while driving into corners! This makes you tense up more than necessary and your driving will be worse. Try to breathe normally while driving. Depending on how bad your habit of tensing up is, you should be slower for a few days until you get used to it.
12- Stop releasing the brakes quickly from full pressure to zero! You’re just popping up the front tires and understeering terribly, and you’re losing many seconds per lap because of this. Learn how to trail brake!
12 - STOP STRANGLING THE STEERING WHEEL! You’ll hurt yourself and have a much less fun experience driving. Instead, use the Light Hands Technique and feel what the car wants from you.
13- Stop doing blind laps! Just doing 500 laps without analyzing your driving is the easiest way to become a terrible driver. If you only believe in talent and nothing else, you might be creating bad habits that you’ll carry forever in your driving. FIND THE INEFFICIENCIES!
14- Stop applying the brakes too slowly. There are places to be smooth, but brake application should not be slow. You should take no more than half a second between initial application and peak pressure.
15- You’re using the wrong settings because you were lazy to research the right ones! Take some time to make sure everything is perfect, and that includes steering range, linearity of the pedals, deadzones, calibration, force feedback!
16- You’re using the wrong Field of View. Use a FOV Calculator and find your ideal one. You can increase it a bit, like 10% more, but keep it close to the ideal to be more precise, even if it feels a little bit too slow!
17- Stop keeping the steering fixed while turning into the corner! You should only keep the steering fixed if your speed is fixed, and this is very rare in motor racing! You should almost always increase your steering on corner entry and decrease your steering on corner exit, continuously!
18- KEEP THE HEEL OFF THE PLATE WHILE BRAKING! Unless you’re driving with an extremely light brake pedal, you should feel the pressure on the ball of your foot, and it should naturally lift your heel just a little bit!
19- STOP turning in with 100% brakes and relying on ABS. Learn how to control the brakes with finesse. Drive cars with ABS as if they didn’t have them.
20 -Stop looking directly at other cars while racing! Your peripheral vision is good enough to know they’re there. Keep looking for useful places on the track to know where you are.
21- Stop giving way too much space when fighting for position. This makes your pass actually more dangerous as you will most likely run wide on the exit and hit your fellow competitor.
22- DO NOT downshift randomly! Pay attention to the timing of your downshifts, they’ll play an essential role in the car balance on all stages of the corner, and have an impact even on exit, of course!
23- Stop practicing if you’re tired! If you’re plateauing and not improving at all, don’t let the frustration consume you. Take a break, watch a team mate driving, get up, stretch, have some sleep!
24- Don’t turn in fast while trail braking. Your front tires don’t have infinite grip! If you’re braking, turn-in slowly. If you’re coasting, changing direction, or accelerating, turn in fast.
25- Do not drive alone all the time! Try to compare your driving with teammates, help them improve and let them help you improve. This is a win-win for everyone.
26- If you go off-track, PLEASE don’t try to desperately come back on track. If you keep turning too much back to the inside, you’ll spin right away!
27- Stop releasing the brakes in a High Downforce car consistently! You should release it slowly on a straight line as you lose downforce, but then more quickly as you turn in, so your braking trace should have TWO lines, the second one being steeper!
28- Stop releasing the brakes too much on a straight line in a low downforce car! You should keep your brakes fairly flat on the same pressure, so release no more than 10% in that phase! Start actually releasing the brakes only when you start turning in!
29- Stop driving the same way in cambered or off-cambered corners! If there’s more grip, you should force the car more, if there’s a hill, or a crest, or off-camber, you should ask for less rotation, less deceleration, less acceleration!
30- Don’t coast. Having no brakes and no throttle should be a rare situation. For 99% of the cars, you should be trailbraking until you get back on power to get proper rotation and be able to brake later.
31- Stop driving purely through understeer. This means you’re not properly using the rear grip and carrying less speed through all corners. Rotate that thing!
32- Stop relying only on steering to rotate the car! Make sure you’re also consciously using engine braking and trail braking as tools for rotation!
33- Please don’t change your line if you’re the slower car in a multiclass being overtaken by a faster class. Let them do the job and prevent crashes!
34- Don’t forget to practice your pit entries! This can save previous seconds and penalties in endurance events!
35- Stop being under the limit for the sake of consistency. You’re in a simulator, if you’re practicing, abuse the car as much as possible. You’ll learn when sliding. You will NOT learn when not sliding.
36- Stop getting on half-throttle and understeering like a pig mid corner. Find the traction limit and stay there, so you keep the rotation where it was before!
37- Stop trying to gain rotation on throttle! This is one of the most dangerous ways to spin. You’re probably doing it because the car is understeering on entry and you’re compensating that. What about making the car rotate more on entry in the first place?
38- Do not turn in slowly in flat-out corners! You should turn in slowly if you’re braking, but much more quickly when accelerating!
39- Stop changing the car setup to solve your bad habits. Try to correct the balance of the car through driving inputs before you make changes. This will help you be more liked by your teammates in endurance events.
40- Don’t increase the brake pressure mid-corner too much! Although in some cases, you have to do it to compensate for a mistake on corner entry, trying to gain rotation on the brakes mid-corner should be avoided. Use it as a sign that you made something wrong on turn-in. The perfect line has your brake trace going DOWN and only DOWN all the way to the apex.
41- Applying the brakes too fast while coming from another corner. If you start braking as fast as if you were in a straight line but with the car completely unloaded on one side, you’ll instantly lock up the unloaded side or get into ABS and unsettle the car.
42- DO NOT go straight in between compound corners! If you’re sacrificing the line of a corner to improve the next one, use the lateral grip in every inch in between to improve your exit speeds!
43- Stop using the throttle on corner entry! Only a few cars with open-differential require maintenance throttle to control the balance. In most cars, braking and accelerating are like asking them to do opposite things at the same time. And the result is a lazy and unresponsive car.
44- Do NOT turn the steering linearly on corner entry in Low Downforce cars. If the car is low downforce, it’ll have V-shaped lines, which means your steering trace should be progressive and exponential, not linear.
45- Stop relaxing and hesitating after turn-in oversteer, which makes you under the limit for a fraction of a second before you turn-in again mid-corner. Try to make micro-corrections on entry but immediately come back to using the rears, so you keep them busy at all stages of the corner!
46- Stop correcting oversteer with Active Countersteer, where you’re actively turning towards the outside. Let the force feedback do the correction for you!
47- Stop braking the same way in elevation changes! If the track is going up into a compression, sometimes you can brake up to 20% more, and if the track is going over a hill, sometimes you should brake even 50% less!
48- Stop doing the same lines in double-apexes in cars with different downforce levels! If the car is high-downforce, the distance between the apexes should be smaller, and if the car is low-downforce, the distance should be much bigger!
49- When accelerating, make sure you time the speed of the first vertical application to the traction limit from corner to corner. If the corner tends to be oversteery on exit, apply it a little bit slower, like over three tenths of a second, but if the corner tends to be understeery on exit, apply the throttle more quickly, like over one tenth of a second, to keep the car rotating!
50- When correcting oversteer on entry, focus on inducing understeer with the brake release by letting the rotation of the car be a trigger for your brake release. This will make sure your front tires are busy and optimal at all times while you manage the rear tires and oversteer with your pedal release!
If you want to be a good driver, write down the ones that you identified with, then put them to practice. You won’t magically improve, so get your shit together and be disciplined.
A bit of advertising on my coaching work: I have complete and detailed lessons ready to go on my online course, The Motor Racing Checklist. They cover all of these tips in-depth. The course has 1750 participants so far with incredible feedback from drivers of all levels. I’m also writing a book version of The Motor Racing Checklist that is being developed for years and is in its final publishing process with the editor.
If you have any question, leave a comment and I’ll respond as soon as possible!
Remember to have fun on track ;)
Suellio Almeida Racing Driver, Coach, Content Creator
2023.05.30 22:23 Huge_Lengthiness4752 Arcanemigration ch4 room to grow
Arcanemigration ch4 Room to grow
As I sit at the edge of a stream near the entrance of my cave i Cast my gaze upon the tranquil scenery, I realize that it holds a newfound significance for me. It has provided me with sustenance, a source of water, and now a temporary respite from the stress of constant work. The fish continue their rhythmic dance in the water.
I reach for my fishing spear, determined to catch a meal to replenish my strength. As I prepare to strike, I hear a faint rustling from the nearby bushes. Instinctively, I grip the spear tighter and scan the surroundings. The eyes of the goblins still haunt my thoughts, reminding me that danger lurks even in the most peaceful moments.
Instead of a goblin that emerges from the brush. It is a creature unlike any I have encountered before—a majestic white pearlescent stag with antlers that seem to reach towards the heavens. Its eyes are filled swirling waves of a blue wisdom and a green of serenity that I have rarely witnessed.
The stag approaches the stream, its graceful movements leaving me in awe. It drinks from the water with a glowing reflection shimmering in the gentle ripples. I watch in silence, a mix of reverence and curiosity stirring within me. Could this be a sign? A guiding presence in this harsh world?
The stag lifts its head, its gaze meeting mine. For a brief moment, time stands still. And then, as if acknowledging my presence, it takes a step closer, its hooves barely making a sound on the soft earth.
In that moment, a realization dawns upon me. The goblins, the battles, the struggle to survive—they are but a small part of a much greater tapestry of the journey to come. There are forces at play beyond my comprehension, and while they may not have taken notice of my deeds, they have sent me a message through this ethereal encounter.
I lower my spear, a newfound sense of purpose coursing through my veins. I will not only defend this sanctuary against the goblin hordes but also strive to understand the mysteries that surround me. I will seek knowledge, forge alliances, and uncover the truths that lie hidden within this world.
With renewed determination, I set my sights on fortifying the cave, transforming it into a stronghold that not only protects me but also serves as a beacon of resilience and defiance. The goblins may still pose a threat, but I am no longer just a survivor—I am a warrior with a purpose.
The stag watches me closely and thoughtfully As I prepare to embark on this new chapter, I offer my silent gratitude to the creature before it gracefully disappears into the depths of the forest.
The journey ahead will be arduous, and the trials I face will test my strength, both physical and spiritual. I may be alone but With the spirit of the stag guiding me, and the scars of my past battles etched into my flesh, I step forward, ready to face whatever challenges lie ahead.
I am the defender of this sanctuary, the seeker of truths, and the embodiment of resilience. And as I move forward, I carry with me the wisdom of the stag and the unwavering determination to protect what is mine.
Inside the cave, I take stock of my resources. Though limited, they are enough to begin the task at hand. And get to work smoothing down the hard stone again until it is the right shape. Then heat up the rock in my fore and then drip cold water along the edge to shatter bits off to make a sharp edge. Then I find the largest bone in the bone pile seemingly a femur and with some work and supplies I bind them together. Lastly I char the bone to seal it.
{Crude woodcutting axe} Wood-damage : +50% Range:3 Bone: +1 durability Char: +1 longevity
Using this makeshift tool, I venture into the surrounding forest, seeking sturdy trees suitable for reinforcement. With each swing of the axe, I feel a sense of empowerment. It is not just the physical act of cutting wood but also the symbol of taking control over my environment. I am no longer at the mercy of nature; I am the one shaping my destiny.
The axe bites into the wood, and with each felled tree, I feel like it's getting easier. Then chopping the tree into logs and branches. I gather logs and branches, forming a stockpile near the cave entrance. I return multiple times, driven by a relentless determination to create a formidable barrier against any future onslaught. I also collect large rocks from the nearby riverbed, utilizing them to strengthen the cave's entrance.
Hours turn into days as I toil, the sweat mingling with the dirt on my brow. With each passing moment, the cave transforms into a sanctuary that reflects my resilience. The once-vulnerable entrance is now fortified with thick logs and sturdy rocks, creating a formidable barrier that would give even the most determined goblin pause.
As I stand back to survey my handiwork, a sense of accomplishment washes over me. The cave, once a mere shelter, has evolved into a stronghold—a testament to my will to survive and protect what is mine. The scars on my body are mirrored in the scars on the land, each a reminder of the battles fought and won.
With the physical defenses in place, I turn my attention to the interior of the cave. I make a simple stone chisel with a replaceable head and useing the same sharp stone, I shape smaller logs into makeshift furniture—a crude bed, a rough-hewn table, and even a shelf to store my meager belongings. I carve niches into the walls to hold torches, their flickering light banishing the shadows that once haunted this place.
As I sit on my newly crafted bed, a flicker of the white stag's presence dances in my mind. I realize that my soul has been blessed with a simple yet useful ability—a keen intuition that guides me in times of danger. It is as if the spirit of the white stag has bestowed upon me a heightened sense of awareness, allowing me to anticipate danger before it strikes.
(Blessing of the stag) Soul trait The user knows when immediate death is near.
With the cave fortified and made livable, I find a moment of respite. I lay on my rough bed, the scars on my body throbbing with both pain and pride. The journey has been grueling, and the battles have taken their toll, but I am ready to face whatever lies ahead. In that moment I notice some notifications I may have ignored or didn't see before.
{Shelter -> Home} Sufficient upgrades have been made do you accept the ownership of this new Home. YES : NO
It doesn't take long but I say yes after I do other pop-ups make themselves know.
HOME This designation partains to places meant for long term living not just survival and can have major improvements and is meant for months to years of living. Many improvements can be made, few expansions can be made tho and only minor differences can be erected. If major improvements are made until there are none left to make and all minor traps are established then it will automatically move into the [BASE] designation. This designation can trigger only minor events.
There now seems to be a few tabs available to me including (defenses),(furniture),(waist room),(pool room),(the pit),(main room)
[You have now made the first step to living in this world and have gained one new skill and 1 level]
Learned skill [ wood working] Rarity: uncommon The user can efficiently cut trees down and work them into anything from small art pieces and furniture to walls and defenses.
And I guess I need to now see what leveling up is like. It can't be that hard I'll also need to go through my windows and learn everything I can about this system.
STATS LV:6 CLASS:NONE NAME: WILLIAM RACE:HUMAN [WHITE] AGE: 23YEARS OLD WEIGHT: 250LB HEALTH :(LV6 * CON14)= 84 ARCANA :(LV6 * INT33) 198 -198=0 PHYSICAL : (LV6 *DEX10)= 60
STRENGTH : 15 DEXTERITY :10 CONSTITUTION :14 INTELLIGENCE :33 WISDOM :27 CHARISMA :-2 LUCK :10
STAT POINTS :5
I close my eyes, allowing the exhaustion to wash over me, knowing that tomorrow will bring new challenges. But with the wisdom of the stag etched into my soul and the strength of my defenses surrounding me, I find solace in the knowledge that I am prepared. And with 5 stat points I should be able to see a difference after using them.
The goblins may regroup and seek revenge, or another threat can raise it's ugly head but they will find a changed man awaiting them—a warrior with a fortified sanctuary, a soul.
submitted by Huge_Lengthiness4752 to u/Huge_Lengthiness4752 [link] [comments]
As I sit at the edge of a stream near the entrance of my cave i Cast my gaze upon the tranquil scenery, I realize that it holds a newfound significance for me. It has provided me with sustenance, a source of water, and now a temporary respite from the stress of constant work. The fish continue their rhythmic dance in the water.
I reach for my fishing spear, determined to catch a meal to replenish my strength. As I prepare to strike, I hear a faint rustling from the nearby bushes. Instinctively, I grip the spear tighter and scan the surroundings. The eyes of the goblins still haunt my thoughts, reminding me that danger lurks even in the most peaceful moments.
Instead of a goblin that emerges from the brush. It is a creature unlike any I have encountered before—a majestic white pearlescent stag with antlers that seem to reach towards the heavens. Its eyes are filled swirling waves of a blue wisdom and a green of serenity that I have rarely witnessed.
The stag approaches the stream, its graceful movements leaving me in awe. It drinks from the water with a glowing reflection shimmering in the gentle ripples. I watch in silence, a mix of reverence and curiosity stirring within me. Could this be a sign? A guiding presence in this harsh world?
The stag lifts its head, its gaze meeting mine. For a brief moment, time stands still. And then, as if acknowledging my presence, it takes a step closer, its hooves barely making a sound on the soft earth.
In that moment, a realization dawns upon me. The goblins, the battles, the struggle to survive—they are but a small part of a much greater tapestry of the journey to come. There are forces at play beyond my comprehension, and while they may not have taken notice of my deeds, they have sent me a message through this ethereal encounter.
I lower my spear, a newfound sense of purpose coursing through my veins. I will not only defend this sanctuary against the goblin hordes but also strive to understand the mysteries that surround me. I will seek knowledge, forge alliances, and uncover the truths that lie hidden within this world.
With renewed determination, I set my sights on fortifying the cave, transforming it into a stronghold that not only protects me but also serves as a beacon of resilience and defiance. The goblins may still pose a threat, but I am no longer just a survivor—I am a warrior with a purpose.
The stag watches me closely and thoughtfully As I prepare to embark on this new chapter, I offer my silent gratitude to the creature before it gracefully disappears into the depths of the forest.
The journey ahead will be arduous, and the trials I face will test my strength, both physical and spiritual. I may be alone but With the spirit of the stag guiding me, and the scars of my past battles etched into my flesh, I step forward, ready to face whatever challenges lie ahead.
I am the defender of this sanctuary, the seeker of truths, and the embodiment of resilience. And as I move forward, I carry with me the wisdom of the stag and the unwavering determination to protect what is mine.
Inside the cave, I take stock of my resources. Though limited, they are enough to begin the task at hand. And get to work smoothing down the hard stone again until it is the right shape. Then heat up the rock in my fore and then drip cold water along the edge to shatter bits off to make a sharp edge. Then I find the largest bone in the bone pile seemingly a femur and with some work and supplies I bind them together. Lastly I char the bone to seal it.
{Crude woodcutting axe} Wood-damage : +50% Range:3 Bone: +1 durability Char: +1 longevity
Using this makeshift tool, I venture into the surrounding forest, seeking sturdy trees suitable for reinforcement. With each swing of the axe, I feel a sense of empowerment. It is not just the physical act of cutting wood but also the symbol of taking control over my environment. I am no longer at the mercy of nature; I am the one shaping my destiny.
The axe bites into the wood, and with each felled tree, I feel like it's getting easier. Then chopping the tree into logs and branches. I gather logs and branches, forming a stockpile near the cave entrance. I return multiple times, driven by a relentless determination to create a formidable barrier against any future onslaught. I also collect large rocks from the nearby riverbed, utilizing them to strengthen the cave's entrance.
Hours turn into days as I toil, the sweat mingling with the dirt on my brow. With each passing moment, the cave transforms into a sanctuary that reflects my resilience. The once-vulnerable entrance is now fortified with thick logs and sturdy rocks, creating a formidable barrier that would give even the most determined goblin pause.
As I stand back to survey my handiwork, a sense of accomplishment washes over me. The cave, once a mere shelter, has evolved into a stronghold—a testament to my will to survive and protect what is mine. The scars on my body are mirrored in the scars on the land, each a reminder of the battles fought and won.
With the physical defenses in place, I turn my attention to the interior of the cave. I make a simple stone chisel with a replaceable head and useing the same sharp stone, I shape smaller logs into makeshift furniture—a crude bed, a rough-hewn table, and even a shelf to store my meager belongings. I carve niches into the walls to hold torches, their flickering light banishing the shadows that once haunted this place.
As I sit on my newly crafted bed, a flicker of the white stag's presence dances in my mind. I realize that my soul has been blessed with a simple yet useful ability—a keen intuition that guides me in times of danger. It is as if the spirit of the white stag has bestowed upon me a heightened sense of awareness, allowing me to anticipate danger before it strikes.
(Blessing of the stag) Soul trait The user knows when immediate death is near.
With the cave fortified and made livable, I find a moment of respite. I lay on my rough bed, the scars on my body throbbing with both pain and pride. The journey has been grueling, and the battles have taken their toll, but I am ready to face whatever lies ahead. In that moment I notice some notifications I may have ignored or didn't see before.
{Shelter -> Home} Sufficient upgrades have been made do you accept the ownership of this new Home. YES : NO
It doesn't take long but I say yes after I do other pop-ups make themselves know.
HOME This designation partains to places meant for long term living not just survival and can have major improvements and is meant for months to years of living. Many improvements can be made, few expansions can be made tho and only minor differences can be erected. If major improvements are made until there are none left to make and all minor traps are established then it will automatically move into the [BASE] designation. This designation can trigger only minor events.
There now seems to be a few tabs available to me including (defenses),(furniture),(waist room),(pool room),(the pit),(main room)
[You have now made the first step to living in this world and have gained one new skill and 1 level]
Learned skill [ wood working] Rarity: uncommon The user can efficiently cut trees down and work them into anything from small art pieces and furniture to walls and defenses.
And I guess I need to now see what leveling up is like. It can't be that hard I'll also need to go through my windows and learn everything I can about this system.
STATS LV:6 CLASS:NONE NAME: WILLIAM RACE:HUMAN [WHITE] AGE: 23YEARS OLD WEIGHT: 250LB HEALTH :(LV6 * CON14)= 84 ARCANA :(LV6 * INT33) 198 -198=0 PHYSICAL : (LV6 *DEX10)= 60
STRENGTH : 15 DEXTERITY :10 CONSTITUTION :14 INTELLIGENCE :33 WISDOM :27 CHARISMA :-2 LUCK :10
STAT POINTS :5
I close my eyes, allowing the exhaustion to wash over me, knowing that tomorrow will bring new challenges. But with the wisdom of the stag etched into my soul and the strength of my defenses surrounding me, I find solace in the knowledge that I am prepared. And with 5 stat points I should be able to see a difference after using them.
The goblins may regroup and seek revenge, or another threat can raise it's ugly head but they will find a changed man awaiting them—a warrior with a fortified sanctuary, a soul.
2023.05.30 21:11 superbomb122 I simulated u/TheGeorgeKelly's Bizarro-verse Super Bowls to see who would really win
Credit goes to u/TheGeorgeKelly for the original post. I absolutely loved the alternate history concept, but I found the methodology for the winners and lack of scores a bit unsatisfying. To resolve this for my stat junkie brain, I booted up WhatIfSports simulation and spent the morning simulating every Super Bowl since 1970s with the runner's-up to find out who really comes out on top in Bizarro World. The results and game MVPs are below:
Some notes:
- Most rings: 49ers, Rams (5)
- Most losses: 49ers (6)
- Most appearances without a win: Browns (3)
- Most appearances without a loss: Jets (4)
- Most appearances: 49ers (11)
- No appearances: Giants, Texans
- In real life, the Giants have not lost a post-merger conference championship game, while the Jets have not won a post-merger championship game. The opposite is true here, with the Jets also having 4 post-merger rings like the Giants IRL. Funny how that worked out
- The Vikings' 1978 Super Bowl win came from their kicker making a 36 yarder as time expired in regulation and then a 46 yarder as time expired in OT. Yep, this is the Bizarro world alright.
- 2 MVPs in losing efforts (Mel Blount and Ricky Watters)
- 4 defensive MVPs (Mel Blount, Fred Dean, LeRoy Irvin, Chris Jones)
- Mark Sanchez has as many rings as Ben Roethlisberger and Brett Favre and more than Aaron Rodgers, John Elway, and Peyton Manning combined. The same goes for Jimmy G, but that's less funny.
- Most wins by a QB: Joe Montana (1983-84, 1990-91, 1993-94), Tom Brady (2012-13, 2013-14, 2015-16)
- The state of California won 8 Super Bowls in 12 years from 1973-74 to 1985-86. This includes the Rams dynasty you never knew existed. Go look up Lawrence McCutcheon. Right now.
- The Lions won a Super Bowl. That is their most recent playoff win.
- The Bucs got a ring in year 4, the Jags got 2 by year 5. Wild performances from expansion teams.
- The Cowboys still haven't made a Super Bowl since the 90s.
- I think I prefer reality to losing 4 Super Bowls in 7 years as a zoomer Packers fan.
submitted by superbomb122 to nfl [link] [comments]
| Season | Winner | Loser | Score | MVP |
|---|---|---|---|---|
| 1970-71 | Oakland Raiders | San Francisco 49ers | 34-17 | OAK WR Fred Biletnikoff: 4 rec, 140 yds, TD |
| 1971-72 | Baltimore Colts | San Francisco 49ers (2) | 26-15 | BAL RB Norm Bulaich: 15 att, 72 yds, TD, 2 rec, 26 yds, TD |
| 1972-73 | Dallas Cowboys | Pittsburgh Steelers | 10-6 | PIT CB Mel Blount: 2 tck, 2 INT |
| 1973-74 | Dallas Cowboys (2) | Oakland Raiders | 21-20 | DAL QB Roger Staubach: 14/22, 165 yds, 2 TD, INT, 5 att, 14 yds |
| 1974-75 | Oakland Raiders (2) | Los Angeles Rams | 24-23 | OAK QB Ken Stabler: 14/22, 247 yds, 2 TD |
| 1975-76 | Los Angeles Rams | Oakland Raiders (2) | 23-10 | LAR RB Lawrence McCutcheon: 20 att, 89 yds, 3 rec, 11 yds |
| 1976-77 | Los Angeles Rams (2) | Pittsburgh Steelers (2) | 17-7 | LAR QB James Harris: 17/28, 297 yds, TD, 4 att, 6 yds |
| 1977-78 | Minnesota Vikings | Oakland Raiders (3) | 20-17 OT | MIN RB Chuck Foreman: 26 att, 109 yds, 4 rec, 59 yds, TD |
| 1978-79 | Los Angeles Rams (3) | Houston Oilers | 23-10 | LAR QB Pat Haden: 13/24, 182 yds, 2 TD, 3 att, 25 yds |
| 1979-80 | Tampa Bay Buccaneers | Houston Oilers | 15-13 | TAM RB Ricky Bell: 20 att, 64 yds, 3 rec, 19 yds, TD |
| 1980-81 | San Diego Chargers | Dallas Cowboys | 21-17 | SD QB Dan Fouts: 21/32, 307 yds, 2 TD |
| 1981-82 | San Diego Chargers (2) | Dallas Cowboys (2) | 43-21 | SD QB Dan Fouts: 22/24, 250 yds, 3 TD |
| 1982-83 | New York Jets | Dallas Cowboys (3) | 39-17 | NYJ RB Freeman McNeil: 22 att, 135 yds, 2 TD, 3 rec, 77 yds, TD |
| 1983-84 | San Francisco 49ers | Seattle Seahawks | 21-16 | SF DE Fred Dean: 5 tck, 4 sk |
| 1984-85 | Pittsburgh Steelers | Chicago Bears | 30-17 | PIT QB Mark Malone: 15/20, 170 yds, 2 TD |
| 1985-86 | Los Angeles Rams (4) | Miami Dolphins | 13-10 | LAR CB LeRoy Irvin: 2 tck, 2 INT |
| 1986-87 | Washington Redskins | Cleveland Browns | 21-17 | WAS QB Jay Schroeder: 13/21, 200 yds, 2 TD, INT |
| 1987-88 | Minnesota Vikings (2) | Cleveland Browns (2) | 24-14 | MIN QB Wade Wilson: 12/20, 207 yds, 3 TD, 2 INT, 5 att, -3 yds |
| 1988-89 | Chicago Bears | Buffalo Bills | 17-10 | CHI RB Neal Anderson: 21 att, 67 yds, TD, 2 rec, 21 yds |
| 1989-90 | Los Angeles Rams (5) | Cleveland Browns (3) | 27-21 | LAR QB Jim Everett: 16/23, 228 yds, 2 TD, 2 att, 5 yds |
| 1990-91 | San Francisco 49ers (2) | Los Angeles Raiders (4) | 23-13 | SF QB Joe Montana: 17/23, 254 yds, 2 TD, 7 att, 14 yds |
| 1991-92 | Detroit Lions | Denver Broncos | 38-12 | DET RB Barry Sanders: 21 att, 129 yds, 2 TD, 3 rec, 21 yds |
| 1992-93 | Miami Dolphins | San Francisco 49ers (3) | 27-6 | MIA WR Mark Clayton: 4 rec, 126 yds, 2 TD |
| 1993-94 | Kansas City Chiefs | San Francisco 49ers (4) | 35-21 | SF RB Ricky Watters: 19 att, 215 yds, TD |
| 1994-95 | Dallas Cowboys (3) | Pittsburgh Steelers (3) | 40-10 | DAL RB Emmitt Smith: 28 att, 127 yds, TD, 3 rec, 30 yds, TD |
| 1995-96 | Green Bay Packers | Indianapolis Colts | 14-7 | GB WR Robert Brooks: 6 rec, 90 yds, TD |
| 1996-97 | Jacksonville Jaguars | Carolina Panthers | 22-21 | JAX QB Mark Brunell: 18/24, 230 yds, TD, 5 att, 8 yds |
| 1997-98 | San Francisco 49ers (3) | Pittsburgh Steelers (4) | 24-9 | SF QB Steve Young: 13/17, 235 yds, 2 TD, 1 att, 2 yds |
| 1998-99 | New York Jets (2) | Minnesota Vikings | 16-13 | NYJ RB Curtis Martin: 23 att, 117 yds, 2 rec, 25 yds |
| 1999-00 | Jacksonville Jaguars (2) | Tampa Bay Buccaneers | 10-9 | JAX RB Fred Taylor: 10 att, 67 yds, TD, 2 rec, 15 yds |
| 2000-01 | Oakland Raiders (3) | Minnesota Vikings (2) | 41-21 | OAK QB Rich Gannon: 18/28, 252 yds, 4 TD, 8 att, 21 yds, TD |
| 2001-02 | Pittsburgh Steelers (2) | Philadelphia Eagles | 22-16 | PIT RB Jerome Bettis: 25 att, 119 yds, 1 rec, 8 yds |
| 2002-03 | Philadelphia Eagles | Tennessee Titans | 20-6 | PHI RB Duce Staley: 16 att, 48 yds, TD, 3 rec, 42 yds, TD |
| 2003-04 | Indianapolis Colts (2) | Philadelphia Eagles (2) | 31-24 | IND QB Peyton Manning: 19/23, 200 yds, 3 TD |
| 2004-05 | Pittsburgh Steelers (3) | Atlanta Falcons | 22-13 | PIT RB Jerome Bettis: 15 att, 70 yds, TD |
| 2005-06 | Denver Broncos | Carolina Panthers (2) | 20-10 | DEN WR Rod Smith: 7 rec, 119 yds |
| 2006-07 | New Orleans Saints | New England Patriots | 27-24 | NO RB Deuce McAllister: 16 att, 122 yds, TD, 3 rec, 49 yds |
| 2007-08 | Green Bay Packers (2) | San Diego Chargers | 27-24 OT | GB WR Greg Jennings: 5 rec, 111 yds, 3 TD |
| 2008-09 | Baltimore Ravens | Philadelphia Eagles (3) | 17-3 | BAL RB Le'Ron McClain: 14 att, 73 yds, TD, 2 rec, 35 yds, TD |
| 2009-10 | New York Jets (3) | Minnesota Vikings (3) | 28-21 | NYJ QB Mark Sanchez: 11/18, 140 yds, 2 TD, 3 att, 15 yds |
| 2010-11 | New York Jets (4) | Chicago Bears (2) | 30-3 | NYJ RB Shonn Greene: 15 att, 106 yds, TD, 1 rec, 12 yds |
| 2011-12 | Baltimore Ravens (2) | San Francisco 49ers (5) | 23-10 | BAL WR Torrey Smith: 2 att, 50 yds, 3 rec, 77 yds |
| 2012-13 | New England Patriots | Atlanta Falcons (2) | 24-17 | NE RB Stevan Ridley: 16 att, 112 yds, TD |
| 2013-14 | New England Patriots (2) | San Francisco 49ers (6) | 20-17 | NE QB Tom Brady: 18/23, 168 yds, TD, 2 att, 4 yds, TD |
| 2014-15 | Indianapolis Colts (3) | Green Bay Packers | 20-3 | IND QB Andrew Luck: 9/15, 139 yds, TD, 2 att, 7 yds |
| 2015-16 | New England Patriots (3) | Arizona Cardinals | 38-31 | NE QB Tom Brady: 19/26, 302 yds, 2 TD |
| 2016-17 | Pttsburgh Steelers (4) | Green Bay Packers (2) | 30-24 OT | PIT RB Le'Veon Bell: 21 att, 177 yds, TD, 4 rec, 18 yds |
| 2017-18 | Minnesota Vikings (3) | Jacksonville Jaguars | 20-6 | MIN RB Jerick McKinnon: 11 att, 52 yds, 2 TD, 2 rec, 12 yds |
| 2018-19 | Kansas City Chiefs (2) | New Orleans Saints | 30-21 | KC DE Chris Jones: 7 tck, 4 sk |
| 2019-20 | Tennessee Titans | Green Bay Packers (3) | 35-23 | TEN QB Ryan Tennehill: 15/17, 263 yds, 3 TD, 3 att, 11 yds |
| 2020-21 | Buffalo Bills | Green Bay Packers (4) | 40-34 | BUF QB Josh Allen: 14/22, 226 yds, TD, INT, 9 att, 14 yds, 2 TD |
| 2021-22 | San Francisco 49ers (4) | Kansas City Chiefs | 42-30 | SF RB Elijah Mitchell: 16 att, 178 yds, 3 TD, 1 rec, 11 yds |
| 2022-23 | San Francisco 49ers (5) | Cincinnati Bengals | 19-13 | SF RB Christian McCaffrey: 15 att, 144 yds, 2 rec, 10 yds |
- Most rings: 49ers, Rams (5)
- Most losses: 49ers (6)
- Most appearances without a win: Browns (3)
- Most appearances without a loss: Jets (4)
- Most appearances: 49ers (11)
- No appearances: Giants, Texans
- In real life, the Giants have not lost a post-merger conference championship game, while the Jets have not won a post-merger championship game. The opposite is true here, with the Jets also having 4 post-merger rings like the Giants IRL. Funny how that worked out
- The Vikings' 1978 Super Bowl win came from their kicker making a 36 yarder as time expired in regulation and then a 46 yarder as time expired in OT. Yep, this is the Bizarro world alright.
- 2 MVPs in losing efforts (Mel Blount and Ricky Watters)
- 4 defensive MVPs (Mel Blount, Fred Dean, LeRoy Irvin, Chris Jones)
- Mark Sanchez has as many rings as Ben Roethlisberger and Brett Favre and more than Aaron Rodgers, John Elway, and Peyton Manning combined. The same goes for Jimmy G, but that's less funny.
- Most wins by a QB: Joe Montana (1983-84, 1990-91, 1993-94), Tom Brady (2012-13, 2013-14, 2015-16)
- The state of California won 8 Super Bowls in 12 years from 1973-74 to 1985-86. This includes the Rams dynasty you never knew existed. Go look up Lawrence McCutcheon. Right now.
- The Lions won a Super Bowl. That is their most recent playoff win.
- The Bucs got a ring in year 4, the Jags got 2 by year 5. Wild performances from expansion teams.
- The Cowboys still haven't made a Super Bowl since the 90s.
- I think I prefer reality to losing 4 Super Bowls in 7 years as a zoomer Packers fan.
2023.05.30 20:49 Thin-Store8032 I was on a normal cruise
When I was younger, my family rarely went away on holiday due to the high cost. However, one sunny July day, my dad came home excitedly informing us that he had booked a cruise to Italy. Overwhelmed with excitement, I immediately packed my bags, daydreaming about sunny Italy. The entire family piled into our blue Citroën C4 Picasso and set off down the M1 towards Portsmouth, where our cruise ship awaited. But as we approached our destination, something inside me changed. The initial excitement turned into a sense of foreboding, as if my gut was warning me that this would not be a normal cruise. Nevertheless, I chose to ignore these early warnings, a decision I would soon come to regret.
In Portsmouth, a massive 16-story ship towered before us, and my family eagerly boarded. As I stepped onto the ship, I was greeted by a thin man who seemed well-meaning but sparked fear in everyone he encountered. Sensing unease, I quickly and quietly walked away from him. We made our way to our rooms, where a warm and inviting bed awaited. Exhausted from the long journey, I climbed into the soft sheets that carried a soothing scent of lavender. As my eyes closed, the ship roared to life and began to leave the port. Sleep overcame me swiftly.
Suddenly, I jolted awake to the sound of crashing. However, to my surprise, I was no longer in my room. As my eyes adjusted to the light in the room, I realized the fixtures on the walls were outdated, and the smell of cigarettes wafted in from the hallway. I forced myself up and stumbled into the corridor. It was no longer the familiar hallway I had seen before falling asleep. Instead, it had transformed into a narrow wooden passage. Confusion engulfed me, but I pressed on, suppressing the urge to question my bewildering surroundings.
After what felt like an eternity, I reached the stern of the ship. As I turned around to survey my surroundings, I beheld the four towering funnels, emanating thick black smoke—a sight that triggered memories from my seventh-grade history book. It dawned on me that this ship resembled the Titanic, sending shivers down my spine. Seated on one of the benches was a figure, and I cautiously approached, desperate to make sense of my situation. I mustered the courage to ask, "Where am I?" The man, with a proud tone, replied, "Why, only on the largest ship ever made—the RMS Titanic, sir." I recoiled in disbelief. How could I be on the Titanic? I had boarded a modern cruise ship just the night before. It seemed impossible.
The memories of the Titanic tragedy flooded my mind, and I realized that I had been sent back in time to alter the course of this ill-fated voyage. Determined to avert disaster, I sprinted to the bridge and demanded to speak with the captain. "Sir, the ship will sink! Please change course!" I pleaded desperately. The captain, casting a dismissive glance, chuckled, "The Titanic is unsinkable, my dear boy. This trade route is clear for miles." Disheartened by his response, I was promptly seized by the crew and thrown out of the bridge.
Nightfall enveloped the ship, and I returned to the stern, consumed by anger towards the captain and weighed down by the fear of my impending fate. Unexpectedly, a figure approached me. She stood out from the crowd, dressed in modern attire like me, and her eyes sparkled with concern under the moonlit sky. She sat down beside me, radiating a comforting presence, and smiled gently. "I know who you are. You are not meant to be here. They sent the wrong person," she said. Her words filled me with apprehension. "The spirits trapped in purgatory—the ones who perished on that cold night in 1912—gathered their combined power to send someone back and save the ship. It wasn't supposed to be you, Gregory, but you must complete their mission to set their souls free." With that final message, she vanished into thin air.
I dedicated myself to training, knowing the weight of my responsibility. Studying the ship's functions, both physically and mentally, I prepared myself for the task ahead. In the dead of night, just two hours before the collision that would alter history, I discreetly obtained a gun from an unsuspecting employee. With the weapon in hand, I stormed into the engine room, overpowering the crew, and forcefully shifted the rudder to full starboard, diverting the ship's course. The dramatic turn prevented the Titanic from meeting its tragic fate.
In that moment, a bloodcurdling scream pierced the air, and a dark figure emerged from the ship's depths. Surrounded by the souls of those who should have perished, the figure laughed menacingly and shouted, "Gregory, how could you be so gullible?" I was engulfed in darkness, with only the figure's eerie glow illuminating the surroundings. "You should not have saved them, you fool! Because now, you shall pay the ultimate price—death, pain, and anguish in the fiery pit of Hell!" With those chilling words, the entire ship was dragged down into the depths of Hell, where it remains to this day. Thus, I learned the hard way that one should never attempt to alter fate.
So remember, dear reader, changing the course of history is a perilous endeavor. Sometimes, it is wiser to accept the events that have transpired, even if they are tragic, for tampering with destiny can have catastrophic consequences.
submitted by Thin-Store8032 to creekyhours [link] [comments]
In Portsmouth, a massive 16-story ship towered before us, and my family eagerly boarded. As I stepped onto the ship, I was greeted by a thin man who seemed well-meaning but sparked fear in everyone he encountered. Sensing unease, I quickly and quietly walked away from him. We made our way to our rooms, where a warm and inviting bed awaited. Exhausted from the long journey, I climbed into the soft sheets that carried a soothing scent of lavender. As my eyes closed, the ship roared to life and began to leave the port. Sleep overcame me swiftly.
Suddenly, I jolted awake to the sound of crashing. However, to my surprise, I was no longer in my room. As my eyes adjusted to the light in the room, I realized the fixtures on the walls were outdated, and the smell of cigarettes wafted in from the hallway. I forced myself up and stumbled into the corridor. It was no longer the familiar hallway I had seen before falling asleep. Instead, it had transformed into a narrow wooden passage. Confusion engulfed me, but I pressed on, suppressing the urge to question my bewildering surroundings.
After what felt like an eternity, I reached the stern of the ship. As I turned around to survey my surroundings, I beheld the four towering funnels, emanating thick black smoke—a sight that triggered memories from my seventh-grade history book. It dawned on me that this ship resembled the Titanic, sending shivers down my spine. Seated on one of the benches was a figure, and I cautiously approached, desperate to make sense of my situation. I mustered the courage to ask, "Where am I?" The man, with a proud tone, replied, "Why, only on the largest ship ever made—the RMS Titanic, sir." I recoiled in disbelief. How could I be on the Titanic? I had boarded a modern cruise ship just the night before. It seemed impossible.
The memories of the Titanic tragedy flooded my mind, and I realized that I had been sent back in time to alter the course of this ill-fated voyage. Determined to avert disaster, I sprinted to the bridge and demanded to speak with the captain. "Sir, the ship will sink! Please change course!" I pleaded desperately. The captain, casting a dismissive glance, chuckled, "The Titanic is unsinkable, my dear boy. This trade route is clear for miles." Disheartened by his response, I was promptly seized by the crew and thrown out of the bridge.
Nightfall enveloped the ship, and I returned to the stern, consumed by anger towards the captain and weighed down by the fear of my impending fate. Unexpectedly, a figure approached me. She stood out from the crowd, dressed in modern attire like me, and her eyes sparkled with concern under the moonlit sky. She sat down beside me, radiating a comforting presence, and smiled gently. "I know who you are. You are not meant to be here. They sent the wrong person," she said. Her words filled me with apprehension. "The spirits trapped in purgatory—the ones who perished on that cold night in 1912—gathered their combined power to send someone back and save the ship. It wasn't supposed to be you, Gregory, but you must complete their mission to set their souls free." With that final message, she vanished into thin air.
I dedicated myself to training, knowing the weight of my responsibility. Studying the ship's functions, both physically and mentally, I prepared myself for the task ahead. In the dead of night, just two hours before the collision that would alter history, I discreetly obtained a gun from an unsuspecting employee. With the weapon in hand, I stormed into the engine room, overpowering the crew, and forcefully shifted the rudder to full starboard, diverting the ship's course. The dramatic turn prevented the Titanic from meeting its tragic fate.
In that moment, a bloodcurdling scream pierced the air, and a dark figure emerged from the ship's depths. Surrounded by the souls of those who should have perished, the figure laughed menacingly and shouted, "Gregory, how could you be so gullible?" I was engulfed in darkness, with only the figure's eerie glow illuminating the surroundings. "You should not have saved them, you fool! Because now, you shall pay the ultimate price—death, pain, and anguish in the fiery pit of Hell!" With those chilling words, the entire ship was dragged down into the depths of Hell, where it remains to this day. Thus, I learned the hard way that one should never attempt to alter fate.
So remember, dear reader, changing the course of history is a perilous endeavor. Sometimes, it is wiser to accept the events that have transpired, even if they are tragic, for tampering with destiny can have catastrophic consequences.
2023.05.30 20:37 BjornAfMunso Betterment Camp - Part 4
So, here's the fourth chapter. Sorry for releasing it a bit late, I've had some pretty tough finals. The next chapter might be delayed as well but after that I should be able to get back to my normal schedule of once a week or possibly better. And thanks for the support on my last chapter, your upvotes and comments mean the world to me!
Big thanks to u/Rand0mness4 for proofreading my chapter and to u/SpacePaladin15 for creating NoP and its amazing literary universe.
CW: Descriptions of desecrated bodies (just your ordinary sapient cattle farm)
[first] [previous] [next (hopefully out in about a week)]
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Memory transcription subject: Oscar Williams, UN Marine
Date [standard human time]: December 3, 2136
With the hum of the cars’ engines tapering off, everything turned quiet, far too quiet. The only sound bar my own breathing was the wind making its way through cracks in the building’s metal shell. Gunfire should’ve been raining down on us by now. The building in front of was at least the size of a football field and going by the faint, but disgusting, smell of the poor victims, the place was packed. There was no way only the about two dozen scalies we eliminated worked here.
Where was the fight? Were all of them hiding inside? We couldn’t have gotten all of them before, right? Well, there’s only one way to find out where the fuckers were hiding.
Richards lined us up next to the large pair of doors separating us from the farm and a soldier from another squad grabbed a handheld battering ram. I doubted the door would hold after just a few hits with a rock but speed was of the essence. The faster we cleared out the arxur infestation, the more people would survive. I wasn’t about to let anyone else die in that hell. My grip around my rifle tightened and time almost seemed to slow down when the first hit was winded up.
We were quietly signaled to step back from the door and with just one hit with the battering ram the lock was separated from the rest of the door. The force from the hit slammed the door open and we promptly stormed in through the opening. But no gunfire met us. The inside was just as deserted as the outside had been. We had entered what seemed to be some kind of warehouse, large crates strewn throughout the floor and deep freezers lining the walls. At that moment I desperately wished I was a mouth breather. The stench, that had previously been contained by the sheet metal walls, was now flooding into my nostrils. Manure, unwashed bodies, and rotten meat. I tried my best to focus on anything but the freezers but every single wall was covered with them. Wherever my eyes darted, more proof of the murders appeared. A dried splotch of blood, some tufts of fur, a bloody machete.
They took pride in it. Pride in this… They’re going to pay.
We crept through the wide open space, making our way from cover to cover. The dirt floor muffled any sound our footsteps would’ve made and we were only exposed for brief moments. If any arxur caught us, we wouldn’t be caught like a deer in headlights. After one of our many rushes between covers, I ended up next to one of the many freezers.
Oh god. My poor nostrils.
The smell had grown even stronger and when I glanced at the freezer I quickly realized why. It seemed to have lost power, going by the fact that it wasn't cold, and that the lid was ajar. The remains of a person, a person who had friends and family, were rotting away inside. My knuckles were turning white from how hard I gripped my rifle and my teeth felt like they were going to crack due to my jaw clenching so hard. I was going to repay them in kind. Those motherfuckers, wherever they were.
When I stood up, en route to the next cover, my eyes caught a glimpse of the inside of the freezer. Pieces of mangled body parts filled the bottom of the box and a swarm of insects swarmed around something in the middle and-
Retch
Parts of yesterday’s meal filled my mouth when I realized what was hiding under the swarm. A severed venlil head with empty eye sockets stared back at me. Blood had dripped down from the sockets, painting long streaks of orange in the white fur. The head’s mouth was locked in an expression of terror and pain and the neck looked like it had been ripped off from the venlil’s body. Part of the spine hung limp beneath the neck and, knowing arxur, I doubted the venlil had been dead during the ripping.
As soon as I found out where they were- Where the hell were the arxur?
Realization suddenly flashed through my mind. Of course those cowards had fled. Fled their just punishment that I had sworn to deliver. My grip around my rifle tightened when I thought about the fuckers running this farm. They’d almost certainly escape justice, and there was in all likelihood nothing I could do about it. If only I could convince Olivia to hunt them down like they deserved.
My train of thought was brought to an abrupt end when we reached the other side of the warehouse. The door on this wall was far smaller, clearly just used by personnel. And it didn’t even have a lock. Maybe they decided to take cover behind this smaller choke point. I immediately squashed the idea in my mind as soon as I thought of it. They weren’t disciplined enough to not rush us with nothing but their natural weaponry.
My theory was quickly being proven true when we rushed into the next room. There wasn’t a single arxur in sight, but the sheer amount of victims more than made up for their absence. We had emerged on some kind of raised walkways, overlooking cramped pits filled with aliens sleeping in the most abhorrent conditions. The air reeked of unwashed bodies, feces, and many other disgusting smells I didn’t even recognize. The victims in the pits looked even worse for wear than the rest of this dilapidated building. Several of the harchen in the closest pit were covered in deep gashes and some even missed entire body parts.
Torture, there was no other explanation. Those fucking crocs.
As I looked around at the other pens, it was quickly made evident that the treatment of the harchen was more of a rule than an exception. Over in another pit, several krakotl had been completely plucked, and what I assumed to be words had been branded onto their backs. Despite my deep hatred for most of their governments, I couldn’t find it in myself to be mad at anyone here. They’d more than likely been captured long before they even knew earth was still inhabitable and even if they weren’t, they still didn’t deserve this torture.
This was so much worse than I thought. Of course it would be horrible but this, how-
Nausea quickly filled my thoughts and before I could even bend over, today's lunch spilled out of my mouth, and I wasn’t alone. At least a third of my fellow soldiers had the same reaction as me.
Good to know I’m not the only empathetic person here. Maybe they’ll agree that the arxur deserve to be treated like their prey after this. Oh, what I would do if I caught any of them.
“HELP!”
The krakotl’s hoarse scream sent a shiver down my spine. It sounded like they hadn’t used their voice for years. I hastily pulled up my bandana and checked that my visor blocked my entire face. I didn’t dare think about what would happen if they realized we were predators.
“P- P- Please help us…”
The screaming had quickly woken up the rest of the aliens who were looking at us with a mix of bewilderment, fear and hope. My eyes darted around the pens while my mind prayed that they wouldn’t land on anyone that recognized our ‘arboreal’ eyes. After what felt like the longest five seconds of my life, I finally allowed myself to breathe a sigh of relief. If no one had fainted yet, they probably didn’t know we were human.
“We’ve come to rescue you, you’re going to get out of here. Just stay calm.”
Richards immediately took command of the situation, preventing widespread panic from the aliens.
“T- T- Thank you… Is the f- f- federation winning?”
The brave krakotl who asked us for help clearly thought we were from the federation and I silently thanked god everyone else seemed to believe the same thing. If they didn’t there would be pandemonium. Those poor souls must’ve seen arxur bloodshed every single day. I could barely imagine how terrified they would be if our identity was revealed. In their eyes we would be nothing but another species of predators and this was the worst possible place to try convincing them we weren’t.
“We’re just going to make sure there are no arxur left in the building, then we’re getting you out of there. We’ll be back before you know it.”
Avoiding the question. I really hoped Richards didn’t tip off the aliens about us there. At least she didn’t deny that we were from the feds. As long as we got out of there as quickly as possible, everything would be fine.
“I- I- saw them leaving. They were a- a- angry, and before they l- l- left they- they…”
The krakotl lifted their wing and shakily pointed towards a dark corner of the room as their voice faltered. Some kind of poles with clumps in the middle filled the corner but any more detail was masked under the veil of darkness. Carefully avoiding looking at the flickering lamps filling the building with light, I turned on my night vision goggles and as soon as my brain registered what it was seeing, I wished that I had been born blind. The poles were wooden stakes and the clumps were the mutilated corpses of a dozen aliens. Deep gashes stretched across their abdomen and their intestines were pouring out of the holes. Not even their heads were spared. They were nigh unrecognizable from blunt force trauma and one of the victims still had the hammer buried in their face. Disgust and rage flared up within me, almost stronger than I’d ever felt before. I wanted to vomit and chop arxur into small pieces at the same time.
Why do they fucking exist? Why the fuck do I have to fucking see this. How can someone… do something like this? And why did we let them escape? Wait, the faster I clear this building, the faster we can hunt them down.
“You’re safe now, we’re getting you off this planet. Squad, we’re make sure there are no arxur left on the premises.”
Sergeant Richards’ command immediately pushed me to act. While about half our our force moved to clear out the rest of the building, my squad rushed for the back door at the other end of the cattle pens. We quickly made our way outside into a large yard, the dirt ground stretching several dozen meters from the building before slowly morphing into a field. In the distance, several large piles of timber were piled high next to a large, deforested area. The only feasible place for the arxur to hide on this side of the compound was the shack that stood at the edge of the yard. In contrast to the concentration camp, this building actually looked relatively structurally sound. Thick concrete walls, a door made of something other than sheet metal, and a roof with only a few visible holes. That was incredibly impressive for an arxur.
Just gotta check this shack, then we can start chasing the fuckers.
Following Richards’ directions, we quickly began making our way towards the building. Reminding myself there was no time to spare, I sprinted ahead of the others and squeezed through the slightly ajar door. A loud slam emanated from behind me as the door shut behind me and I emerged into something that almost looked like living quarters. Several bedrolls were laid out on the ground, piles of equipment were scattered across the floor, and a large scaly repti-
SHIT SHIT SHIT!
They hadn’t left. Those fuckers just laid in ambush, waiting for me to let my guard down. Its hideous body sat on one of the bedrolls, radiating bloodlust. I could feel its eyes bore deep into my soul, sending an involuntary shudder down my spine. Every single part of it was tailor made to kill, and nothing else. It could easily rip off my limbs with its massive claws, and then chop them into tiny pieces with its razor sharp teeth if I was careless.
Can’t be careless then. That fucker isn’t going to walk out of here alive. If I’m going down, it’s going down with me.
I instinctively threw myself to the ground, raising my rifle to take out my target. My rifle was aimed directly at the unarmed creature’s head, through the chain-link fence sectioning off the arxur from me. Just before I pulled the trigger, my brain connected the contradictory information, stopping me from firing from sheer bewilderment.
Why the fuck did that thing not have a weapon? And why were they in some kind of improvised prison?
“Hey! Oscar, the door’s locked. What’s your status?”
David’s voice and a loud banging on the door I just passed through snapped me back to reality. I was locked away from my squad in a room full of arxur. The same species that fucking impailed a dozen people out there. And here they were, right in front of me, behind a chain-link fence. Red flashed before my eyes as I realized what was happening.
They were trying to fool us. And those morons thought I wouldn't notice. They put up that barbed wire, trying to exploit our empathy. We’d try to imprison them, and then they’d strike. And they would have succeeded, had I not been alone.
I slowly stood back up, and shuffled backwards until I stood flush against some kind of railing. The multiple arxur that were hiding behind the chain-link looked at me with unreadable expressions but I could noticeably see their eyes widen as I raised my rifle.
Finally realizing the jig is up? They were going to pay for for the people they fucking impailed, for the venlil whose head they fucking ripped of, and for the fucking cradle.
All I had to do was tell the white lie that they attacked me and open fire. Then my squad wouldn’t be murdered and justice would finally be served. The arxur remained quiet as mice as I prepared to enact justice, probably in shock from their stupid ploy being seen through. I was eternally thankful that they were so stupid. The anger that had filled my entire system slowly melted away, being replaced by satisfaction at their imminent demise. Right as I was about to press down on the trigger one of the arxur began speaking but as I looked for the culprit I saw that all their mouths were shut. The voice was high pitched, almost childlike, and it echoed from… below.
What the-
“Hi, what are you? You look really cool!”
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Is Oscar being a bit delusional? Should he analyze the situation a bit more objectively? Possibly, but where's the fun in having completely sane characters.
Anyways, the two protagonists are about to meet. Will said meeting remain entirely civil or will Oscar "accidentally" drop a grenade into the pit? We'll find out next time.
submitted by BjornAfMunso to NatureofPredators [link] [comments]
Big thanks to u/Rand0mness4 for proofreading my chapter and to u/SpacePaladin15 for creating NoP and its amazing literary universe.
CW: Descriptions of desecrated bodies (just your ordinary sapient cattle farm)
[first] [previous] [next (hopefully out in about a week)]
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Memory transcription subject: Oscar Williams, UN Marine
Date [standard human time]: December 3, 2136
With the hum of the cars’ engines tapering off, everything turned quiet, far too quiet. The only sound bar my own breathing was the wind making its way through cracks in the building’s metal shell. Gunfire should’ve been raining down on us by now. The building in front of was at least the size of a football field and going by the faint, but disgusting, smell of the poor victims, the place was packed. There was no way only the about two dozen scalies we eliminated worked here.
Where was the fight? Were all of them hiding inside? We couldn’t have gotten all of them before, right? Well, there’s only one way to find out where the fuckers were hiding.
Richards lined us up next to the large pair of doors separating us from the farm and a soldier from another squad grabbed a handheld battering ram. I doubted the door would hold after just a few hits with a rock but speed was of the essence. The faster we cleared out the arxur infestation, the more people would survive. I wasn’t about to let anyone else die in that hell. My grip around my rifle tightened and time almost seemed to slow down when the first hit was winded up.
We were quietly signaled to step back from the door and with just one hit with the battering ram the lock was separated from the rest of the door. The force from the hit slammed the door open and we promptly stormed in through the opening. But no gunfire met us. The inside was just as deserted as the outside had been. We had entered what seemed to be some kind of warehouse, large crates strewn throughout the floor and deep freezers lining the walls. At that moment I desperately wished I was a mouth breather. The stench, that had previously been contained by the sheet metal walls, was now flooding into my nostrils. Manure, unwashed bodies, and rotten meat. I tried my best to focus on anything but the freezers but every single wall was covered with them. Wherever my eyes darted, more proof of the murders appeared. A dried splotch of blood, some tufts of fur, a bloody machete.
They took pride in it. Pride in this… They’re going to pay.
We crept through the wide open space, making our way from cover to cover. The dirt floor muffled any sound our footsteps would’ve made and we were only exposed for brief moments. If any arxur caught us, we wouldn’t be caught like a deer in headlights. After one of our many rushes between covers, I ended up next to one of the many freezers.
Oh god. My poor nostrils.
The smell had grown even stronger and when I glanced at the freezer I quickly realized why. It seemed to have lost power, going by the fact that it wasn't cold, and that the lid was ajar. The remains of a person, a person who had friends and family, were rotting away inside. My knuckles were turning white from how hard I gripped my rifle and my teeth felt like they were going to crack due to my jaw clenching so hard. I was going to repay them in kind. Those motherfuckers, wherever they were.
When I stood up, en route to the next cover, my eyes caught a glimpse of the inside of the freezer. Pieces of mangled body parts filled the bottom of the box and a swarm of insects swarmed around something in the middle and-
Retch
Parts of yesterday’s meal filled my mouth when I realized what was hiding under the swarm. A severed venlil head with empty eye sockets stared back at me. Blood had dripped down from the sockets, painting long streaks of orange in the white fur. The head’s mouth was locked in an expression of terror and pain and the neck looked like it had been ripped off from the venlil’s body. Part of the spine hung limp beneath the neck and, knowing arxur, I doubted the venlil had been dead during the ripping.
As soon as I found out where they were- Where the hell were the arxur?
Realization suddenly flashed through my mind. Of course those cowards had fled. Fled their just punishment that I had sworn to deliver. My grip around my rifle tightened when I thought about the fuckers running this farm. They’d almost certainly escape justice, and there was in all likelihood nothing I could do about it. If only I could convince Olivia to hunt them down like they deserved.
My train of thought was brought to an abrupt end when we reached the other side of the warehouse. The door on this wall was far smaller, clearly just used by personnel. And it didn’t even have a lock. Maybe they decided to take cover behind this smaller choke point. I immediately squashed the idea in my mind as soon as I thought of it. They weren’t disciplined enough to not rush us with nothing but their natural weaponry.
My theory was quickly being proven true when we rushed into the next room. There wasn’t a single arxur in sight, but the sheer amount of victims more than made up for their absence. We had emerged on some kind of raised walkways, overlooking cramped pits filled with aliens sleeping in the most abhorrent conditions. The air reeked of unwashed bodies, feces, and many other disgusting smells I didn’t even recognize. The victims in the pits looked even worse for wear than the rest of this dilapidated building. Several of the harchen in the closest pit were covered in deep gashes and some even missed entire body parts.
Torture, there was no other explanation. Those fucking crocs.
As I looked around at the other pens, it was quickly made evident that the treatment of the harchen was more of a rule than an exception. Over in another pit, several krakotl had been completely plucked, and what I assumed to be words had been branded onto their backs. Despite my deep hatred for most of their governments, I couldn’t find it in myself to be mad at anyone here. They’d more than likely been captured long before they even knew earth was still inhabitable and even if they weren’t, they still didn’t deserve this torture.
This was so much worse than I thought. Of course it would be horrible but this, how-
Nausea quickly filled my thoughts and before I could even bend over, today's lunch spilled out of my mouth, and I wasn’t alone. At least a third of my fellow soldiers had the same reaction as me.
Good to know I’m not the only empathetic person here. Maybe they’ll agree that the arxur deserve to be treated like their prey after this. Oh, what I would do if I caught any of them.
“HELP!”
The krakotl’s hoarse scream sent a shiver down my spine. It sounded like they hadn’t used their voice for years. I hastily pulled up my bandana and checked that my visor blocked my entire face. I didn’t dare think about what would happen if they realized we were predators.
“P- P- Please help us…”
The screaming had quickly woken up the rest of the aliens who were looking at us with a mix of bewilderment, fear and hope. My eyes darted around the pens while my mind prayed that they wouldn’t land on anyone that recognized our ‘arboreal’ eyes. After what felt like the longest five seconds of my life, I finally allowed myself to breathe a sigh of relief. If no one had fainted yet, they probably didn’t know we were human.
“We’ve come to rescue you, you’re going to get out of here. Just stay calm.”
Richards immediately took command of the situation, preventing widespread panic from the aliens.
“T- T- Thank you… Is the f- f- federation winning?”
The brave krakotl who asked us for help clearly thought we were from the federation and I silently thanked god everyone else seemed to believe the same thing. If they didn’t there would be pandemonium. Those poor souls must’ve seen arxur bloodshed every single day. I could barely imagine how terrified they would be if our identity was revealed. In their eyes we would be nothing but another species of predators and this was the worst possible place to try convincing them we weren’t.
“We’re just going to make sure there are no arxur left in the building, then we’re getting you out of there. We’ll be back before you know it.”
Avoiding the question. I really hoped Richards didn’t tip off the aliens about us there. At least she didn’t deny that we were from the feds. As long as we got out of there as quickly as possible, everything would be fine.
“I- I- saw them leaving. They were a- a- angry, and before they l- l- left they- they…”
The krakotl lifted their wing and shakily pointed towards a dark corner of the room as their voice faltered. Some kind of poles with clumps in the middle filled the corner but any more detail was masked under the veil of darkness. Carefully avoiding looking at the flickering lamps filling the building with light, I turned on my night vision goggles and as soon as my brain registered what it was seeing, I wished that I had been born blind. The poles were wooden stakes and the clumps were the mutilated corpses of a dozen aliens. Deep gashes stretched across their abdomen and their intestines were pouring out of the holes. Not even their heads were spared. They were nigh unrecognizable from blunt force trauma and one of the victims still had the hammer buried in their face. Disgust and rage flared up within me, almost stronger than I’d ever felt before. I wanted to vomit and chop arxur into small pieces at the same time.
Why do they fucking exist? Why the fuck do I have to fucking see this. How can someone… do something like this? And why did we let them escape? Wait, the faster I clear this building, the faster we can hunt them down.
“You’re safe now, we’re getting you off this planet. Squad, we’re make sure there are no arxur left on the premises.”
Sergeant Richards’ command immediately pushed me to act. While about half our our force moved to clear out the rest of the building, my squad rushed for the back door at the other end of the cattle pens. We quickly made our way outside into a large yard, the dirt ground stretching several dozen meters from the building before slowly morphing into a field. In the distance, several large piles of timber were piled high next to a large, deforested area. The only feasible place for the arxur to hide on this side of the compound was the shack that stood at the edge of the yard. In contrast to the concentration camp, this building actually looked relatively structurally sound. Thick concrete walls, a door made of something other than sheet metal, and a roof with only a few visible holes. That was incredibly impressive for an arxur.
Just gotta check this shack, then we can start chasing the fuckers.
Following Richards’ directions, we quickly began making our way towards the building. Reminding myself there was no time to spare, I sprinted ahead of the others and squeezed through the slightly ajar door. A loud slam emanated from behind me as the door shut behind me and I emerged into something that almost looked like living quarters. Several bedrolls were laid out on the ground, piles of equipment were scattered across the floor, and a large scaly repti-
SHIT SHIT SHIT!
They hadn’t left. Those fuckers just laid in ambush, waiting for me to let my guard down. Its hideous body sat on one of the bedrolls, radiating bloodlust. I could feel its eyes bore deep into my soul, sending an involuntary shudder down my spine. Every single part of it was tailor made to kill, and nothing else. It could easily rip off my limbs with its massive claws, and then chop them into tiny pieces with its razor sharp teeth if I was careless.
Can’t be careless then. That fucker isn’t going to walk out of here alive. If I’m going down, it’s going down with me.
I instinctively threw myself to the ground, raising my rifle to take out my target. My rifle was aimed directly at the unarmed creature’s head, through the chain-link fence sectioning off the arxur from me. Just before I pulled the trigger, my brain connected the contradictory information, stopping me from firing from sheer bewilderment.
Why the fuck did that thing not have a weapon? And why were they in some kind of improvised prison?
“Hey! Oscar, the door’s locked. What’s your status?”
David’s voice and a loud banging on the door I just passed through snapped me back to reality. I was locked away from my squad in a room full of arxur. The same species that fucking impailed a dozen people out there. And here they were, right in front of me, behind a chain-link fence. Red flashed before my eyes as I realized what was happening.
They were trying to fool us. And those morons thought I wouldn't notice. They put up that barbed wire, trying to exploit our empathy. We’d try to imprison them, and then they’d strike. And they would have succeeded, had I not been alone.
I slowly stood back up, and shuffled backwards until I stood flush against some kind of railing. The multiple arxur that were hiding behind the chain-link looked at me with unreadable expressions but I could noticeably see their eyes widen as I raised my rifle.
Finally realizing the jig is up? They were going to pay for for the people they fucking impailed, for the venlil whose head they fucking ripped of, and for the fucking cradle.
All I had to do was tell the white lie that they attacked me and open fire. Then my squad wouldn’t be murdered and justice would finally be served. The arxur remained quiet as mice as I prepared to enact justice, probably in shock from their stupid ploy being seen through. I was eternally thankful that they were so stupid. The anger that had filled my entire system slowly melted away, being replaced by satisfaction at their imminent demise. Right as I was about to press down on the trigger one of the arxur began speaking but as I looked for the culprit I saw that all their mouths were shut. The voice was high pitched, almost childlike, and it echoed from… below.
What the-
“Hi, what are you? You look really cool!”
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Is Oscar being a bit delusional? Should he analyze the situation a bit more objectively? Possibly, but where's the fun in having completely sane characters.
Anyways, the two protagonists are about to meet. Will said meeting remain entirely civil or will Oscar "accidentally" drop a grenade into the pit? We'll find out next time.
2023.05.30 20:26 xNala9 The bottemloss pit inside me...
Story of my life.. now I finally have the courage to type this message. Since I was 14 (or maybe longer) I have struggled with depression (13 years earlier). Also, when I was 17 years old I became very angry and sad, created all the symptoms of bpd, except the selfharm (but maybe that started with kickboxing when I was 19).. All my life I feel an sad, bottemloss pit inside me, this monster. I thought it would be some traumas I just got to get healed from but it keeps coming back. So intense feelings that I feel. Like I got the whole world on my shoulders. It makes me emotionial exhausted all the time and I can't get out of it. This circle, this life.. I just do my job on automatic pilot and pay my bills. I start fighting for a hobby and a need to feel things as well, because I feel empty/sad and numb at the same time. And in times like this, injury because of the sport, I feel the monster even more. So much sadness and feeling like giving up. I have a lovely partner (love of my life) but I'm afraid to keep opening up and crying, because I just want to be a ''strong'' woman. Also I feel often the fear of commitment, of losing him and the love I experience. I just don't know how I am supposed to help myself without him. We often have arguments, which I start because of my bottemloss empty feeling, which I mostly realize later.. I am afraid he's already given up on me. But he knows my problems and knows I (hopefully, not sure) get help after the summer. Please help me with simply a heart, then I would feel not so alone. And if so, does anyone have tips for the binges? I need to go to rehab... hehe
Thank you..
submitted by xNala9 to BPD [link] [comments]
Thank you..
2023.05.30 20:25 yousmelllikebiscuits Tennessee's 2024 Football Recruiting Class Update: Peyton Lewis Commitment
Tennessee adds another blue-chipper with the commitment of 2024 4* RB Peyton Lewis. Lewis announced his commitment surrounded by Tennessee staff, current commits, and future Vols during the '865 Live' recruiting event in Knoxville over the weekend (last year was called RockyTopalooza). This event was jam packed with other blue chip recruits and included a scavenger hunt, a putt putt golf contest, and a talent show. The Salem, VA native gives Heupel's staff their TWELFTH commitment in the 2024 class choosing Tennessee over Alabama, Florida, Georgia, and South Carolina. Lewis was offered by the Vols in February 2023 and "always had aspirations of playing at Tennessee" so the commitment came just a few short months afterwards.
Tennessee anchors itself inside the Top 10 at #8 sandwiched between Florida State (#9) and Penn State (#7). See the other commitments below:
submitted by yousmelllikebiscuits to ockytop [link] [comments]
Tennessee anchors itself inside the Top 10 at #8 sandwiched between Florida State (#9) and Penn State (#7). See the other commitments below:
2024 Team Ranks: Nat'l #8 SEC #3
| Rank | Team | Commits | 5* | 4* | 3* | AVG Points | Total Points |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| 1 | Georgia | 16 | 4 | 7 | 4 | 94.14 | 270.65 |
| 2 | Michigan | 17 | 1 | 10 | 6 | 91.34 | 250.12 |
| 3 | Ohio State | 13 | 2 | 9 | 2 | 93.05 | 238.14 |
| 4 | Notre Dame | 16 | 2 | 9 | 5 | 90.82 | 236.05 |
| 5 | LSU | 16 | 0 | 11 | 5 | 90.32 | 232.40 |
| 6 | Oregon | 14 | 0 | 11 | 3 | 91.01 | 224.58 |
| 7 | Penn State | 14 | 1 | 7 | 6 | 90.43 | 217.41 |
| 8 | Tennessee | 12 | 0 | 7 | 5 | 90.51 | 202.23 |
| 9 | Florida State | 11 | 2 | 5 | 4 | 90.45 | 192.35 |
| 10 | South Carolina | 9 | 1 | 7 | 1 | 92.95 | 183.60 |
2024 Commitments
| Name | Position | Height | Weight | Class | Star | 247Comp Rank | POS Rank | Rating | Commit Date |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| Jake Merklinger | QB | 6-3 | 195 | 2024 | 4 | 65 | 8 | 0.9634 | 3/30/23 |
| Jonathan Echols | ATH (TE) | 6-4 | 230 | 2024 | 4 | 94 | 7 | 0.9525 | 7/4/22 |
| JJ Harrell | WR | 6-0 | 187 | 2024 | 4 | 143 | 20 | 0.9380 | 2/27/23 |
| Kaleb Beasley | CB | 6-0 | 179 | 2024 | 4 | 150 | 14 | 0.9351 | 10/21/22 |
| Peyton Lewis | RB | 6-1 | 190 | 2024 | 4 | 215 | 15 | 0.9208 | 5/27/23 |
| Kellen Lindstrom | DL | 6-5 | 235 | 2024 | 4 | 268 | 31 | 0.9117 | 5/5/23 |
| Amari Jefferson | ATH (WR) | 6-1 | 195 | 2024 | 4 | 270 | 23 | 0.9110 | UT Baseball Commit |
| Marcus Goree Jr. | ATH (DB) | 6-0.5 | 177 | 2024 | 4 | 416 | 37 | 0.8915 | 2/18/23 |
| Gage Ginther | IOL | 6-5.5 | 287 | 2024 | 3 | 604 | 37 | 0.8794 | 4/8/23 |
| Edrees Farooq | S | 5-11 | 180 | 2024 | 3 | 627 | 60 | 0.8778 | 4/16/23 |
| Carson Gentle | DL | 6-3 | 241 | 2024 | 3 | 804 | 81 | 0.8697 | 7/23/22 |
| Jesse Perry | OT | 6-6 | 275 | 2024 | 3 | 851 | 69 | 0.8664 | 4/7/23 |
| Jeremias Heard | DL | 6-7 | 295 | 2024 | 3 | NA | 99 | 0.8552 | 4/21/23 |
2024 Top Targets
| Name | Position | Height | Weight | Class | Star | 247Comp Rank | Rating | Recent Notes |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| Williams Nwaneri | DL | 6-5 | 250 | 2024 | 5 | 3 | 0.9971 | 247 Recruiting Director Steve Wiltfong said Vols were in "pole position" going into summer Official Visits. OV scheduled for 6/9/23. Primary competition: Oklahoma and Texas A&M |
| Mike Matthews | ATH | 6-1 | 180 | 2024 | 5 | 9 | 0.9955 | OV scheduled for 6/23. Primary competition: Alabama, Clemson, Georgia, USC |
| Sammy Brown | LB | 6-2 | 230 | 2024 | 5 | 14 | 0.9928 | Vols "set the bar high" during Official Visit for '865 Live' event on 5/27. Primary competition: Clemson, Georgia, Ohio State, Oklahoma |
| Eddrick Houston | Edge | 6-3 | 255 | 2024 | 5 | 15 | 0.9907 | Tennessee not yet scheduled for OV. Primary competition: Alabama, Clemson, Georgia, Ohio State, USC |
| Ryan Wingo | WR | 6-2 | 198 | 2024 | 5 | 21 | 0.9884 | Tennessee not yet scheduled for OV but just visited for '865 Live' recruiting event. Primary competition: Georgia, Michigan, Missouri, Texas |
| Elijah Rushing | Edge | 6-6 | 235 | 2024 | 5 | 22 | 0.9883 | OV scheduled for 6/23. Primary competition: Arizona, Notre Dame, Oregon, UCLA |
| Jerrick Gibson | RB | 5-10 | 200 | 2024 | 4 | 35 | 0.9799 | OV scheduled for 6/16. Primary competition: Georgia, Miami, Texas |
| Jordan Ross | Edge | 6-5 | 215 | 2024 | 4 | 38 | 0.9774 | OV scheduled for 6/23. Primary competition: Florida, Georgia, Texas |
| Kamarion Franklin | DL | 6-5 | 265 | 2024 | 4 | 39 | 0.9770 | OV scheduled for 6/16. Primary competition: LSU, Miami |
| Aaron Scott | CB | 6-0 | 170 | 2024 | 4 | 56 | 0.9665 | Tennessee in Top 12 on 4/9/23 but no OV scheduled. |
| Kameryn Fountain | Edge | 6-5.5 | 237 | 2024 | 4 | 81 | 0.9567 | UT CRYSTAL BALL PREDICTION - OV scheduled for 6/23. Primary competition: USC and USCJr |
| Demello Jones | S | 6-1 | 176 | 2024 | 4 | 84 | 0.9563 | UGA commit - OV scheduled for 6/23. Primary competition: Alabama and Georgia |
| Daniel Calhoun | OT | 6-6.5 | 355 | 2024 | 4 | 86 | 0.9561 | OV scheduled for 6/16. Primary competition: Alabama, Auburn, Georgia, Texas |
| Tylen Singleton | LB | 6-1 | 208 | 2024 | 4 | 123 | 0.9422 | Tennessee not yet scheduled for OV. Primary competition: Arkansas, LSU, TCU, Texas A&M |
| Max Anderson | OT | 6-5 | 305 | 2024 | 4 | 191 | 0.9276 | MULTIPLE UT CRYSTAL BALL PREDICTIONS - OV scheduled for 6/9. Primary competition: Georgia and Oklahoma |
| Daniel Hill | ATH (LB/RB) | 6-1 | 220 | 2024 | 4 | 196 | 0.9261 | Tennessee not yet scheduled for OV but just visited for '865 Live' recruiting event. "Top-three" after visit. Primary competition: Alabama and USCJr |
| Boo Carter | ATH | 5-10 | 184 | 2024 | 4 | 240 | 0.9151 | UT CRYSTAL BALL PREDICTION - Tennessee not yet scheduled for OV but just visited for '865 Live' recruiting event. Primary competition: Ohio State |
| Edwin Spillman | LB | 6-1 | 216 | 2024 | 4 | 251 | 0.9137 | MULTIPLE UT CRYSTAL BALL PREDICTIONS - OV scheduled for 6/16. Brother of UT '23 commit Nate Spillman. Primary competition: FSU, Georgia, Ohio State |
| Amaris Wiliams | DL | 6-3 | 260 | 2024 | 4 | 261 | 0.9130 | OV scheduled for 6/23. Primary competition: Florida, NC State, North Carolina |
| Amari Jefferson | ATH | 6-1 | 195 | 2024 | 4 | 270 | 0.9110 | UT Baseball commit - OV scheduled for 6/23. Primary competition: Alabama and Georgia |
| Ronan O'Connell | OT | 6-4.5 | 288 | 2024 | 3 | 539 | 0.8833 | UT CRYSTAL BALL PREDICTION - OV scheduled for 6/23. Primary competition: Clemson and Wisconsin |
Recruiting Notes
- The team rankings do not include Amari Jefferson as a UT football commit but I have included him here due to his baseball commitment to Tennessee. Jefferson has been taking football visits and it is clear that Tennessee will be a finalist.
- 2024 4* ATH Jonathan Echols has announced he is being recruited to play TE at Tennessee.
- '865 Live' Recruiting Event had some very big names in addition to some of the top targets above including...
- 2024 5* Edge Dylan Stewart
- 2024 4* DL Aydin Breland
- 2024 4* Edge Brian Robinson
- 2024 4* ATH Kamron Mikell (announced an OV for 11/18 vs. UGA)
- 2025 5* OT Josh Petty
2023.05.30 20:02 Centumviri Welcome to Green Valley: 4 Bumpkin Quest Adventures
Welcome to Green Valley
Four Merry Jaunts Through in the Bumpkin Quest Campaign
It’s a big world filled with far off folks who have far off problems. In the quaint farming town of Hills Furrow that has certainly not been the case. Here life is simple, local, and paced by the seasons. There ain’t been a need for “Venturers” and their ilk since your Papaw was just a sprout. However, the winds of change are blowin, and things are about to git just a bit more exciting round these parts.Welcome to Green Valley, The down-home home of Rural Fantasy Misadventures and Grass-Roots Shenanigans. The Valley is Filled with Colorful Characters, Brimming with Odd Ball Neighbors, and has more than a few Local Yokels. Welcome to Bumpkin Quest. These adventures are intended to be a series of silly adventures that all go awry in some way or another and stir up trouble throughout a peaceful little village that has in many ways been overlooked by the troubles of the world “outside”.
CHAPTER 1: Green Tide CHAPTER 2: A Cartload of Chickens CHAPTER 3: Marvin the Magnificent CHAPTER 4: High Society
ADVENTURE MECHANICS - Target Character Level: Commoners - Level 1 - Target Party Size: Four Players - Average Adventure Playtime: 1-2 Hours - Tone: Rural Misadventures
I’ve also put these adventures into a PDF that includes our Bumpkin Quest: Campaign Guide which fills in the details of Green Valley pretty thoroughly. The quests are simple enough to be run in any setting you choose, but if you're interested in more the Guide as over a dozen Custom Maps, 70+ NPCs, Location Descriptions, 20+ Local Legends, and Scores of Adventure and Event Ideas. You can grab the PDF Free at the link above.
Hills Furrow
At the center of the Valley sits a patch of small grassy hills, through which the Slow Water meanders through. Built into these hills is the Village of Hills Furrow. Celebrated by everyone living in The Valley and boasting a whopping population of almost 150, Hills Furrow is the center of commerce and social importance. Well, at least as far as the locals are concerned. Realistically it would be less than a blip on the grand scale of things, a mere kernel of wheat in the silo of civilization, but to those who live here, there is nothing quite like living in the “city”.The Village itself, like the Valley, is predominantly Halfling, and their fancy dwellings are burrowed into the hillsides as often as possible. These dwellings have been family owned for generations only becomeing available if there are no heirs to pass them along to. Other folk live in well kept two story shingled buildings, most of which house a business on the lower floor and house the Shopkeepers and their families above their workplaces, though a few live in nearby homes. There aren’t many “rental” spaces in town, as property is usually bought up quickly by the Halfling Families, but there are long term options at either of the Inns in town.
Hills Furrow: Locations 1) The Crocked Crow (Inn and Tavern) 2) The Dancing Lamb (Inn and Tavern) 3) The Moaning Toad (Tavern) 4) Granny's Groceries (General Market) 5) Get Nailed (Hardware and Distilery) 6) Gimdurh's Hammer (Smithy) 7) Brenra's Mechanicals (Tinker) 8) Hjoldren's Home Goods (Carpenter) 9) Standard Industries (Office) 10) Fit to be Dyed (Tailor) 11) The Last Loaf (Baker) 12) The Cloudy Cleaver (Butcher) 13) Nature's Medecine (Apothecary) 14) Sheriff's Office 15) Green Valley School House 16) The Waterwheel 17) The Windmill 18) The Undercloak Estate 19) Truefoot Burrow 20) The Meadows Family Hill
The people themselves are hospitable and friendly enough, but they do not really trust outsiders. Folks from foreign places are good for trade, news, and little else. Those that come through are treated well enough as long as they don’t wear out their welcome. Locals, well, that’s a bit of a different story. The city and area doesn’t operate under a written caste system or social structure, but there is clearly a pecking order, and family heritage matters a great deal to folks in Hills Furrow. Most locals, whether they’ve gotten an education or not, can easily be classified as simple. It isn’t that they are slow of mind or unintelligent, but more that they are unconcerned with matters the outside world considers important. This sentiment has created a general, but friendly, dislike between those that consider themselves Highfalutin and those that clearly are not.
Well now that I've given you the fifty cent tour. Shall we get on to adventure?
CHAPTER 1: Green Tide
We will open our journeys in the Green Valley at Green Tide, the annual celebration of Winter’s End. This adventure is designed to give a tour of Hills Furrow and introduce them to the locals. It will begin with some chores around their house to prepare for the festival and end with a battle involving an enchanted broom. If you did not do Session Zero, this chapter may take a bit longer as we get to know everyone and their characters.ACT 1: Pre-Festival
The locals spend the week cleaning out their houses and farms. They gather old junk and unused items to be used later in the festival. They also begin preparing what food is left from winter to be used in a celebration and feasts.Things to do! - Have the Players clean up junk around the house - Have them Find something strange (Perhaps used for a later mystery?) - Have them Decorate their Broom - Have them run a Household Errand (Meet an NPC)
ACT 2: Sweeping Day
A merry festival celebrating Spring cleaning and putting the past behind them. They form a parade, with one member from each house carrying a brightly decorated broom and using it to symbolically “Sweep Away Winter”. The rest of the family marches their winter’s trash and unused goods down to the Fairgrounds. The goods are often traded, while the trash is piled in the fire pit to await burning later. The entire day is filled with fun outdoor activities. Households also symbolically bring their problems to the bonfires to burn them later.Things to do! - March in the Parade - Carry Junk to the Bonfire - Meet more of the Locals
EVENT: I Love a Parade
The parade will march North from near the Cross Roads in the South up around the hill and back again to the South where it will head for the Fairgrounds. There isn’t anything particularly challenging about this event, but it would be a wonderful place to start leaning into or building local rivalries.
EVENT: Never Seen a Broom Do That… As they come into the home stretch of the Parade one of the local’s Brooms will animate and take off. It will chase folks around the parade. The players can attempt to stop it, but the broom will flee soon after being attacked. It will fly up into the air, attack a flock of geese, and chase them off until it can’t be seen anymore. They can go and collect a fallen goose if they wish. I highly recommend giving it a motorcycle type sound as it flies around hitting folks. Maybe even going as far as giving it a rough gravel angry voice and letting it insult people.
ACT 3: Winter’s End
Winter’s End is a Combination of Groundhog’s Day and Fasnacht, this day gets a little wild. The Festival kicks off at dawn with the Great Gopher Hunt. Gophers are well known spies for The Voice of Winter and thus need to be hunted before they can tell The Voice to delay Spring. Gophers themselves are quite tasty, and are notoriously bad for crops, so this works out economically all around. Throughout the rest of the day families continue to contribute to the Bonfire Pile which often gets quite large. At dusk a large effigy of The Voice of Winter is placed on top of the pile. Once the sun has fully set they light the fire and burn the Effigy. Folk usually dress darkly during the day and brightly at night. After the burning they feast on sweets and treats that were made from goods saved up from winter storage.Things to do! - The Great Gopher Hunt - Carry Junk to the Bonfire - Meet more of the Locals - The Fairground’s Activities
EVENT: The Great Gopher Hunt The Hunt begins at dawn and takes place all over the Valley. Locals race to collect as many Gophers as possible. It is easiest to kill the Gopher, but there are some that find that distasteful. Instead they live trap the critters. It is a bit tougher to do so, but an option should your players wish. This is most easily played out as a series of appropriate Skill Checks, in which the higher they score the more gophers they obtain.
EVENT: Trash Removal They may find some locals willing to pay them to help cart junk down to the bonfire pile. Not a lot of skill involved in this, but it is a great opportunity to meet locals, and you could throw a runaway cart at them.
Fair Activities They will probably want to take part in Fairground Activities. Players love these types of challenges. Here are a few ideas you can build on. - Axe Throwin: Basic attack rolls on a Round Target. Higher scores equal Higher points. - Bow Shootin: Basic attack rolls on Moving Targets. Higher scores equal Higher points. - Pig Chasin: Catch the greased Pig! Medium DC Challenge requiring three success before three Failures. - Mud Wrastlin: Nothing says bumpkin like a good Mud Wrastlin Pit. Contested Skill Challenges. - Sausage Eating Contest: Increasingly difficult DC Challenge. Eat till you puke! Can also be Pies or Ribs or Little Fish… you know whatever someone wants to stuff dozens of in their gullet. - Tug O’War: Team Strength Challenge. Three to Five Contested Rolls with opposing teams. - Gopher BBQ Cook Off: A Hard Culinary Challenge to see who can BBQ the best Gopher! - Races: Foot and Mount Races based on Three to Five Contested Rolls. I usually include a few odd mounts like a Giant Chicken or some such nonsense.
ACT 4: Day of Ashes
The Day of Ashes is a day of rest, recovery, and reflection. Locals take the ashes from the bonfires and rub their hands in them to symbolize the end of a hard year’s work and hardships of the past. The day ends with a large family feast, typically Pork. Activities this day are light, but many folks head to the Temple for the Calling of Spring Blessings. They put on their fancies and head down to ask forgiveness for over-indulging in the festival and for worship. Well sort of…Unfortunately, a lot of folks take this as an opportunity to peacock about and practice their one-upmanship over other locals. If you’re looking for inspiration for their outfits look to older photos of the Kentucky Derby. Over the years this troubling practice has caused more than one fight to break out after the service.
*Things to do! * - Go to Temple and Meet More Locals - Pick a Local Patron!
EVENT: Temple Services
The majority of the town comes to Temple on this day. The service is usually longer, and a bit more “Where have most of you been all year?” But otherwise it is a call for the Divine Blessings to touch their crops and protect their lives. It ends with a ceremony in which the locals put their hands into the ashes from yesterday’s bonfire. Once services end they will head outside, where the trouble will begin. Two of the wealthier families will get into it with each other. Starting with a couple of veiled insults, probably before service and continuing afterward. If one of your players is from a local Rich Folk family then they can be right in the middle of it all, otherwise they will have to pick a side. This choice will determine their house Patron moving forward. Tension will increase until folks start drawing up sides, and then someone will throw a rotten tomato at one of the House Matrons. That will blow the lid off the incident and a yokel brawl will break out. For comedy purposes I recommend the instant appearance of several food carts filled with expired products, and maybe a six year old hustler selling big sticks for wacking folks with. As the locals brawl call for perception checks. Who ever rolls highest begins to hear… The Broom returning!
ENCOUNTER: Stick In The Eye
The broom returns ready to whoop some ash. It will be absolutely bent on cleaning anyone and everyone who is even the slightest bit dirty! If it successfully attacks a character they will have to make a Strength Saving throw or be knocked to the ground and swept clean by the broom. As this would be an awful omen for the year folks are terrified and will be running around screaming. Absolute mass hysteria. If the players were lucky enough to hear it coming they can avoid being surprised by the broom. Otherwise the broom will get a full round to attack before they have a chance to do anything. They’ll have to beat the broom into submission any way they can before it sweeps the whole town into chaos!
CLOSING
After defeating the broom things will settle back down again. Bumpkins are quick to return to normal when things go awry. However, they will have gotten the attention of one of the Wealthy Families in the area and be offered jobs. Which family is really, based on what will work best for them and you as the DM. For gags you might be tempted to have the Yokels pick them up, but that is a hard bit to sustain, and you may be better served keeping them on the side as a comic foil rather than up front. Completely up to you. The session should end with them being invited to meet their new patron tomorrow someplace important.CHAPTER 2: A Cartload of Chickens
After successfully defeating the Enchanted Broom, our Bumpkins have gained the attention of a possible local Patron. This individual has summoned them to a nearby farm to discuss future work. That work includes proving themselves capable and not just lucky.ACT 1: Meet the Boss
In this Act the players will meet with their new patron, one of the Family Heads, who that is entirely depends on their choices from the last game. This entire side branch is designed to flavor the background of the campaign, but if you’d rather just have them stay freelancing and independent that’s fine as well. There is also the possibility of “competing” offers should they have second thoughts for any reason. Once they arrive at the meeting spot their Patron will ask them some questions about their ambitions (Class Goals), they will then hand them off to their new “boss” who will assign them their task. They will take them to a nearby barn.NEW NPC: “Boss”
Needs a fitting name for the Family they work for...
Character wise, what we got here is a standard “Ranch Foreman” character. They’re tough, A little mean, and completely loyal to their employer. They almost certainly chew tobacco (by the handful), have a tattoo of the Ranch’s Brand, and know where all the bodies are buried. They also have a huge and obvious scar on the side of their head where a Giant Chicken pecked a hole in their skull, so they’re not as bright as they used to be, not at all truthfully. Nor are they actually the Foreman anymore, but no one has a heart to tell them. They’ve been quietly downgraded to Chicken Handler, which is something they seem to remember quite well, but the brain damage keeps them from realizing all that. They can be found wandering the Farm giving strange orders to other Hands. These Hands nod politely and then go back to what they are doing.
Things To Do! - Meet Their Patron - Discuss Their Future - Meet Their New “Boss”
ACT 2: Chicken Dance
Boss will lead them into the odd looking barn. This building is filled with Giant Chickens. These two-three foot fouls have extremely exaggerated features, spiky looking beaks with sharp tooth like edges, big darting eyes, bumpy cracked skin, long gnarled talons, and dirty mottled feathers. They’re more beast than bird. But, they’re good for eatin! These creatures should have a stat block similar to an Axe Beak. When the players enter into the Barn the Chickens will go nuts, obviously deeply bothered by the intrusion. Boss will throw in some deer haunches and the birds will tear them apart in a feeding frenzy. They will then put on a Chicken Suit and begin a flapping dance. (Google Magnificent Riflebird) It should be absolutely captivating and the chickens will become mesmerized, watching every move. Boss will then load two dozen chickens onto a large wagon and lock it. They will have the players push the wagon out while he keeps the Chickens calm. Once outside they’ll hang heavy tarps on the sides of the wagon, and remove the suit. He will then explain to them that they need to keep the tarps on the wagon, and keep the birds well fed, or the chickens will get restless and become violent. When they do need to interact with them someone will have to wear the suit and dance to keep them calm. The bigger the person in the suit the better. Boss will then give them a Map of Green Valley and instruct them to drop off two chickens at each of the outer settlements. They have two days to get this done.Things To Do! - Head into the barn - Witness The Dance of The Chicken - Push the Wagon out - Get the Costume and Delivery Instructions
ACT 3: Bumpy Roads
They will be off to deliver the Chickens to various locations. There is no specific order to this delivery, they just need to pick a route and go. If they’re short on time they can take the country roads that lead between the outer settlements, but these aren’t as well kept as the main roads are. Whatever road they take and wherever they decide to stop for the night there are problems they will encounter along the way. You can make them random or pick the ones that best suit your players. Most of these should at some point require someone putting on the suit and dancing for the chickens to keep them calm. I would also increase the difficulty of each event. If they fail a dance the Chickens will become restless and start attacking the cart until they are calmed down. Too many failures and the wagon’s cage will break and the remaining chickens escape. They will then have to be rounded up and the cage repaired.Things to Do - Decide the delivery route - Deliver the chickens - Keep the Chickens calm
Possible Road Events 1) Rough roads cause problems 2) Yokels attempt to see what’s in the cart 3) Bad Weather swamps the road or scares the chickens 4) Pack of Coyotes causes trouble. 5) Chicken Rustlers! Protect the Flock! 6) Wagon breaks and needs repair 7) Cows in the road, someone’s herd is out. 8) Broken Bridge, not gone, just broken
ACT 4: Final Delivery
They’re now closing in on the final delivery. Something needs to happen here to cause them to put the suit on. Or maybe they never took it off! I love that idea, that one of your players just loves the suit and wants to be a chicken… lol… Anyway I’m a fan of having them need to get out of the suit for some reason, maybe a bathroom break, or they stand on a fire ant hill, or a snake slithers up their leg. You know something silly and fun. BUT the zipper is stuck! So they’ll have to try and unstick it and fast! Whatever happens they’re going to get shot at by some hunters looking for a big score who have mistaken the flailing caused by the stuck zipper to be the chicken attacking. After dealing with the Hunters they can go ahead and make the final drop. And head home.Things to Do! - Head for the final delivery - Get shot at! - Deliver the last chickens
ENCOUNTER: That’s a BIG Chicken!
Having two hunters in the field is more than enough to cause a problem for the players. The hunters will almost certainly surprise the players, but you can allow them a perception check, if they succeed they’ll see the hunters just before the muskets go off. It would be OK to down the Chicken Player here if the hunters successfully hit it. They’ll have healer’s kits on hand because, well, this seems to happen to them a lot out here. After the initial attack the players can decide to attack back or try and talk the hunters down. A basic Bandit or Scout stat block should do will for the hunters. If you’re looking for a bit more mayhem, if the hunters miss the players you could have them hit the cage, and you know, bust it open. This may be especially tempting if they
POSSIBLE ENCOUNTER: Big Ol' Frog
So there is a giant frog hiding in the mud down in the creek. If a player takes cover behind the banks there is a good chance that the frog will attempt to nab the player as a snack. If it is successful in grabbing a player with its tongue it will immediately head down river, and they'll have to chase it to get their friend back.
CLOSE
When they return, Boss will reward them. How much will depend on how successful they were delivering the birds. If they did a descent job, they will be paid two day’s wages each. If they were completely successful they can have a bonus. However, if the wagon is in bad shape they might have some money deducted. After they’re paid out, they will be dismissed, and told to expect a new assignment next week.CHAPTER 3: Marvin the Magnificent
After successfully delivering chickens Boss is going to trust them with a more important task. Their employer has requested an item to be created by Marvin the Magnificent. This is a farming community so having enchanted Farming Equipment is extremely desirable. Marvin has done a lot of basic enchantments over the years, but this new one, an The Stone Skipper, a plough whose blade goes ethereal while in contact with stones too large to push away, has really put him to the test. He needs some help with the final enchantments. The players will have to travel to the Ethereal Plane and hit the Blade of the plow with large rocks. But there’s a problem, they’re going to have mischievous Ethereal Sprites attempting to stop them! If they’re successful, which they should be, they get to take the plough for a test drive, and deal with the strange side effects of the enchantment. Angry goats that blink in and out of existence.ACT 1: To the Tower
They’ll be summoned out to the Ranch where they’ll meet with Boss again. Once there they will notice a large pile of bent and dinged up plows. Boss will explain to them that a recent land acquisition has become problematic. The Fields are filled with large stones just under the topsoil and they’ve damaged a lot of Plow Blades. The Smithing costs are getting out of hand and so their Patron is looking for an alternate solution to the problem. He is sending them to help Marvin the Magnificent, who has taken the job, but run into some complications and needs some help. They may ask about Marvin. Or perhaps the fields that were purchased, so be ready to answer these types of questions. Once they’re done here they can head to Marvin’s Tower, which is just north of town.Things to Do! - Meet Boss again - Ask some Informational Questions - Head for the Tower
NPC: Marvin the Magnificent
ACT 2: Marvin the Magnificent
As they approach the tower they should see an explosion at the peak of the structure. It should look similar to a fireworks mishap. When it clears there will be no visible damage to the tower, But Marvin will plummet to the earth just off to the side of them, landing in a small pond. He will then come charging out of the pond, laughing hysterically, and riding on a large turtle. Once he gets a few feet away from the pond the turtle will disappear and he will tumble to the ground right in front of the players. He will leap up quickly and turn toward the players. “Behold Travelers, You stand in the presence of Marvin the Magnificent! And everything you have witness was mostly intended!” He will then strike a cool pose with his wand pointed to the sky! “Now why do you approach my tower!?”Once Marvin finds out they’ve been sent about the plow he will become more nervous looking. “I see, well follow me. We have work to do.” He will then start walking toward the tower… his boots squishing out water. This should give them a little time to ask a few questions. Marvin will be a little subversive about what they need to do. He will attempt to frame it very mysteriously, saying things like “All will be revealed soon.” and “Save your questions! All Answers await us… in the future!” If they ask him about what they witnessed outside, he will tell them he was working on a mount summoning spell designed for lakes and rivers.
Things to Do! - Head toward the Tower - Meet Marvin - Ask Questions
ACT 3: The Cabinet of Mysteries
The inside of the Wizard’s Tower will be far more mundane than they likely expect. At least on the first floor. It will have a sitting room, dining room, and kitchen, as well as a few odds and ends about. Nothing special at all. The second floor, are Marvin’s personal quarters and some room for study, but it is the third floor, where Marvin will lead them, and it will be more of what one would expect in a Wizard’s tower. There will be books shelves, arcane equipment, and storage for components. In the middle of the room will be a tall cabinet.:
Marvin will explain to them that the Cabinet is a transportation device, and that he will need them to enter into it with a plow that he has recently enchanted. They will be taken to the Ethereal Plane, and once there they’ll need to take the plow outside and begin hitting it with large field stones. There is a large pile of stones just on the north edge of the tower. They’ll have to do this quickly, before the “others” show up. Who are the others? Hard to say, but there are things that live in the Ethereal Plane that don’t like intruders. The idea is to imbue the Plow with Ethereal Powers so it can pass through large stones while plowing fields. Once they return with the Enchanted Plow, Marvin will have them load it on a cart, pulled by a very smart Donkey, and send them on their way.
Skill Challenge: Enchant the Plow This skill challenge will require five successes before they’re incapacitated by the others. However they decide to do it, they’ll have to successfully hit the plow with five large stones. Failures will result in strange indiscernible entities attacking them. They do minimal damage but could knock people out if there are enough failures.
Things to Do! - Move Through Marvin’s Tower - Enter the Cabinet - Enchant the Plow
ACT 4: Blinking Goats
Upon returning to Boss with the Plow they will be happily greet and paid. Their Patron will be there and will be very pleased with their success. He will ask them to demonstrate the plow’s abilities. Once they get set up out in the field and begin plowing something weird will happen. Every time they hit a stone and the plow’s power activates an Ethereal Goat will manifest and kick or ram the plow, and then disappear. It will feel very similar to what they encountered in the Ethereal Plane. They’ll have to find a way to deal with the manifestations.ENCOUNTER: Ethereal Goats These goats should function very similarly to Blink Dogs, but I would trim the HP and AC a little to put them in line with the party’s. They will be intent on breaking the Plow not the party, although they will attack the party if they can’t get to the Plow.
Things to Do! - Deliver the Plow - Drive the Plow - Defeat the Ethereal Goats
CLOSE
Once defeated the Boss will come over to yell at them, but the Patron will find the entire thing amusing and more importantly, another impressive demonstration of the player’s skills. He will invite them to the “House” for an important party next week.Chapter 4: High Society
They've definitely been noticed now and have impressed with their ability, unconventional as it may be. They are invited to their patron's home, but not as guests. Though, they might think they were actually invited as guests! They have been brought in to help work the event held out at the Party Field. They will have to gather party supplies, help put up the tent, and then serve the actual guests. During the evening’s entertainment a hypnotist “The Great Dr Hypnotika” will mesmerize the crowd and attempt to rob them all. Hopefully the players don’t fall victim to her schemes. And if they do oh well, they’ll be entertained all the same.ACT 1: Special Delivery
The players arrive at the Patron’s very nice property. They will be greeted by a properly dressed servant with a clipboard, the Party Planner. The Planner will be rigid and direct. They will immediately begin tasking them about. If they mention that they were invited to the party the servant will laugh “You didn’t think you were a guest? Oh dear, how embarrassing. You’re the help! It is still a great honor to be tasked to help at the Party, but you’re not guests. Now as for your current task. Head into town and gather these supplies. Bring them to the field by noon.” After the instructions are given the servant will go back to their tasks and expect the players to do the same. They will have three stops; The Crocked Crow for Food and Beer, Get Nailed for the Tent and Spirits, and Shalana Proud-Breed’s Tailor Shop to pick up the Dry Cleaning. Feel free to make any and all of these go sideways! Its a good place to toss in some shenanigans as well! They should also be introduced to Dr Hypnotika and her associates.Things To do! - Go to their Patron’s Home - Meet the Party Planner and Dr Hypnotika - Run their Errands
NPC: Dr Hypnotika
Dr Hypnotika and her group will perform for the party. Hypnotica is a Tiefling Mezmerist and illusionist. She has an obnoxiously high charisma and some pretty serious skills to back up her claims. However, she uses those skills to beguile her guests, robbing them blind while they are under her spells. She wears a fine robe with a bedazzled headwrap. She has dark upward spiraling horns, light purple skin, and matching eyes. She wears a monocle and walks with a ceremonially carved staff depicting the "Struggles of the Universe". She is extremely persuasive and even more deceptive. Even if someone were to grow suspicious she can easily talk her way out of trouble.
NPCs: Clapper and Bob Hypnotika brings with her two assistants. Clapper the suit wearing Kenku who will perform wondrous displays of mimicry and slight of hand, and her strongman Bob the Kobold. Bob wears a leopard print strongman's outfit and is amazingly swole, particularly for a kobold, and capable of lifting upwards of 400lbs. Bob doesn't do much else other than get hit with things. in the act.
ACT 2: Put up the Tent
After they finish running their errands they will be tasked with putting up a large party tent. This Act is an ongoing Skill Challenge and should have a constantly distracted feel to it. First they have to unpack the tent. Then they have to realize some pieces are missing, they’ll have to form a solution to that problem. After that wind should cause some problems as the tent is at least being pulled up. This is a great moment for some wondrous tom-foolery.Things To do! - Unpack the tent - Deal with missing parts - Secure the tent during the wind gusts
ACT 3: Put These On
After they finish putting up the tent they’ll be sent to the Servant’s Quarters to bathe and change. They’ll get a little time to explore and snoop if they wish. Afterward they’ll be tasked with helping in the kitchen, but unfortunately the cooks are going to have been playing a drinking game all afternoon and are no longer fully capable of doing their jobs. This would make a great moment for some sort of mini-game where the players have to determine whether or not the cooks are doing the right things. Once the dinner has been completed they will have to serve the guests. This is a good place to insert gossip and help them meet a few other folks.Things To do! - Get changed for the party - Deal with the drunk cooks - Serve the guests drinks and food
ACT 4: An Evening to Remember
At some point in the evening things are going to start sliding downhill. Some of the locals will have become extremely inebriated and will need to be encouraged to leave, or just moved off to the side as they’ve already passed out, before the show begins. Once the show begins the locals will become fixated on the goings on. “The Great Dr Hypnotika” will have put an additive in the drinks for the that will make everyone more susceptible to her powers of persuasion. Once the show starts she will have them all doing silly things, those who drank have disadvantage on saves against her powers. She will end the show asking the guests to display their most valuable treasure, a with a hypnotic pattern and then send her assistants out to collect those treasures. The players will have to “do something” about the thieves.Things To do! - Deal with Drunks - Watch the Show - Stop the Criminals
ENCOUNTER: Hypnotika's Gang This encounter doesn't have to be a fight. If Hypnotika is caught she may claim it was all part of the act and simple return the valuables with a "no harm, no foul" type attitude. This will be he go to in an attempt to avoid a fight, but if the character persist in some kind of retribution or punishment the situation will devolve into a combat. Hypnotica herself is an Illusionist Wizard but is low on spells after the show. Clapper is a low level rogue and Bob a Barbarian, and should play out as such. Even with Skills they are combat adverse and will be looking for an opportunity to flee rather than fight. They do have a getaway wagon out front that they'll be headed for if things go south.
CLOSING
We’re assuming the Bumpkins at least attempted to stop the robbery. This will draw a lot of attention to them. Their Patron will be well pleased with them, and let them know they will be getting much more important jobs in the future. The guests will also take note and will begin treating them all a bit better. They’re all essentially Folk Heroes at this point for secondary backgrounds. Their Patron should reward them with something very nice as the party kicks back in. They will need to finish out the nights work of course.Quest-line Closing
Congratulations! Your Players have completed their first Quest-line! Hopefully it was a delightful experience. But now that they've finished what comes next? Well, here are some ideas.*Reward Them! * They've been doing some rather Adventurous things lately, and therefore should now have a Class Level under their belt, so the real D&D world now opens to them! Maybe it is time for some real adventuring gear. No more sticks, stones, and burlap sack armor.
Folk Heroes? There's a good chance that the Valley is Speaking the News about them and their exploits while drinking in the taverns. They may have even earned the actual Folk Hero Feat! Maybe someone would be interested in giving them a task!
Simply Go Exploring! There are a lot of places in Green Valley that we only dipped our toes into. You could have them head down to Stinkmarsh, or maybe climb up the cliffs of Longridge. The world (Well, the Valley) is wholly open to them.
Explore Local Legends There are lots of local legends they can look into! Hopefully they search out something that isn't too far over their heads!
Continue Working for their Patron It would be an easy DM go to simply to have them continue working for their current Patron. They've probably been impressive enough fo a family to be interested in keeping them on.
Establish Themselves as Adventurers! Maybe they want to set up a Adventurers for Hire business? This "Heroes Guild" approach is really appealing to a lot of players and absolutely plays into Bumpkin Quest. Just remember, this is a place of low key problems that locals make really big deals out of. So the idea of slaying dragons shouldn't really be on the table... that is until an actual dragon shows up! Which one day absolutely should.
2023.05.30 19:55 CrcblZay Elliot Cadeau has officially reclassified
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2023.05.30 19:19 BasicSith2 [RO] Journey to the Treetop
CABIN ROAD is the gateway to paradise. But why does this feel like a path to hell? I smash into a tall pine tree that stands in the middle of the otherwise straight gravel road. I've gone around it hundreds of times before. But now, my fingers are firmly gripped on the steering wheel, disregarding all my commands. Have I become paralyzed? A potato is wobbling on the dashboard, having obviously leaped out of the potato crates in the back seat. Jack gets out and strides to the front bumper. His lips press into a thin line as he appraises the destruction and cost of fixing it. Nothing should hold him back from swearing. But he maintains his composure, anger simmering just beneath the surface. The memory of thirty years of marriage fills my mind. I question whether this man has drugged me. A fleeting thought that he might have crashed the car surfaces, but it seems too much of a stretch. I take a deep breath and try to clear my head. In the rear-view mirror, Jack gets an axe from the trunk. He comes and gazes at me from my window, his eyes looking heavy and weary—like two precious pearls inside their oyster-like shells. I straighten and open the window: “Thank goodness it wasn't worse.” “I'll chop it down.” “That’s a pretty big tree, Jack.” Jack blinks several times. “I do have a chainsaw...” “Yes.” I wonder what stories this tree has witnessed during its lifetime. Will we see the marks of our journey on its rings? There’s always something that gets squeezed in tighter, begging to be unraveled. “I'll drive you to the cabin and grab the chainsaw,” Jack says. “Prepare some coffee while I'm gone.” Our short passage to the cabin around the bend is like shifting through the fog of memory. I'm in the kitchen. My fingers clench around the coffee tin can and spoon. Bewilderment engulfs my brain. I spot Jack with his saw. He slips around the corner, the curve of his bottom visible through his tight work trousers. I feel anxious about the crash. Did I deliberately hit the tree? The measuring spoon slips from my hand. It drops onto the floor along with the tin can. I clean up the mess. Could someone drive into a tree on purpose? Accidents do happen after all. It's fascinating to see him take on this role of being so chivalrous. Far away from his academic duties. As the chainsaw outside whines, I scroll through social media on my phone. People arguing about something or other makes me tired. I pick up a copy of Science magazine from the coffee table and scan through an article titled “Quantum Communication Across Interstellar Space,” authored by Jack. As usual, the details go right over my head. I like to amuse myself with the idea that it speaks about communicating with individuals who have passed away. Billy's message pops up. He asks for money for a fishing trip with his buddies somewhere in Lapland. I am more than happy to support him since he’s enlisting in the army soon in July. My big boy. I tell him about the car crash, and he gives me advice about a car repair store. Jack comes back earlier than expected. He plops into his seat, sweat beading on his forehead and the smell of resin emanating from him. He seems disappointed. I pour coffee to the brim. “Did the saw get stuck?” Jack shakes his head and adds sugar to his mug. “It got shattered under the tree. I stumbled...” Silence descends slowly, like dust. “My helmet cracked.” “Do you want me to buy new parts when I go to the store?” “No need.” “But there's pruning and cutting to do first.” Jack takes a bite out of a cinnamon bun. “I can sharpen the axe.” “Ask the neighbors for help, that's what they're for. You can also mow the lawn while I'm away.” “The grass is already short— it'll die off.” “You don't want ticks taking over! Think about your mother's joint pain. She would roll in her grave if—” “Cremated?’ “Yes!” My answer is like a flyswatter, leaving no room for further discussion or quantum physics. Jack is busy chewing on the bun. His regular coffee breaks, which have become part of his daily routine in his sixties, have honed impressive jowls. We enjoy our coffee and stare at the lake. Calm as a mirror. I have a feeling Jack will soon suggest fishing. As I gather my things to leave, I call to him: “Don't hurt yourself. Should I bring more buns?” “I was thinking of skipping the sugar and wheat...” I simply smile in reply. “Can you refuel the car?” Jack asks. I'm already off. The door slams shut in the middle of his sentence, but Jack knows better than to expect a response. I jump into the driver's seat and immediately notice forgotten potato baskets in the back seat, but my mind drifts away before I can do anything about it. As I pass by our old well, I remember that we need to discuss connecting the cabin to a new water source. No matter what it costs, it needs to be done. Why should I agree to be responsible for our running water anymore? I collide with something hard. Airbags abruptly inflate around me, disorienting me as my vision blurs. Struggling to escape from the tangled mess of seatbelts and inflatable bags, it feels like I'm an old person trying to climb out of a bouncy castle. My gaze rests on the scene before me, but my thoughts can't understand it. I have plowed into a tree stump. The tree stretches over the ditch. Nearby the chainsaw lies crushed. The cutting chain is nowhere to be found. I get back in the car. Should I phone Jack for an urgent call? Inhaling slowly helps me stay calm. Why didn’t he mention the tree stump? Someone taps on my window I jump and my neck stiffens up. I reach for the window switch. “I should have told you about...” Jack says. “The stump?” “Didn't you see the tree on the ground?” “I'm sorry. I was daydreaming.” “Great galaxy, Hazel! You're burning through our last savings as if money grew on trees!” Jack is being truly authentic with me. I stare back at him like some big-eyed exotic species from Madagascar that I can't identify in all this chaos. Jack opens the door and starts to put the cushion back in its place. We turn on the engine, giving the accelerator a test ride. “Let's go to a repair shop. I'm sure our insurance will cover this,” Jack suggests. “We can say that we had an accident with a reindeer.” “You're supposed to report it to the police or game warden if you hit an animal,” I reply. Jack pauses for a moment. He then reverses and drives forward again, but when he looks into the rear-view mirror, he slams on the brakes. “I have a better plan.” He retrieves an orange towing strap from the trunk, a burst of determination on his face. He connects the stump and the tow hook. “Get ready. We’re going to take a quantum leap here.” We buckle our seat belts with a single click as we prepare for the inevitable disaster. We had already made so many mistakes together, starting with raising our children—though sometimes failing was just part of parenting. Jack revs up the engine. A sudden lurch forward, then Jack howls in pain as the stump smashes through the rear window, clambering through the seats and lodging itself onto the gearbox, trapping Jack's hand. He veers off toward the ditch. The Milky Way spins around us, potatoes fly in the air and suddenly, all is quiet. We find ourselves upside down—surrounded by earthy potatoes and broken glass. I try to break the silence: “I just remembered: Billy's friend can repair cars at the vocational school much cheaper.” Jack looks so pale, his face almost white. I guess he’s contemplating the next step. Through the cracked windshield, I see the chainsaw chain lying in the ditch. How did it come to be rusting away? Maybe everything will go back to normal if we sit here and wait. It feels almost as if we are flying in outer space, my nerves slowly calming down. But then a sudden stillness strikes that is anything but soothing. “Jack, I’m feeling a bit dizzy…” No answer. “Jack...” I snap open my eyes and the scene in front of me has changed drastically. It’s like I’ve been sucked into some kind of surreal void. I hear a tapping noise on the window. An apology and then a loud thud; a huge rock has been hurled through the glass. A stench of strong aftershave ferments around me. A burly arm reaches across to release the seatbelt. An elderly man growls something crude, nothing like Jack's usual scout-like words. My eyes close as I'm being cradled away, and visions of Jack's mathematics and symbols flicker around in my mind. Is the soul truly free when there is no force of gravity to pull us down? I don't know who my savior is, but I can sense his worry as his face reddens. He is in military garb. I come to as I feel my head thudding against the rubble. Instantly, I yearn to run away, contemplating that perhaps this experience is only a dream, and I'm back in the cabin chamber, tucked securely underneath a cosy blanket. A blanket that grants me the power to perform heroic acts like disappearing in a puff of smoke. “Are you okay?” he speaks in a familiar voice. Fingers brush over my clothes, picking out pieces of glass. My pocket contains an odd bulge—a potato? Suddenly, everything clicks: an aged Billy, wearing a major's rank insignia. How could he have achieved that rank so fast? “Son, what are you doing on this tree ring?” Billy peers at me from across the way, accompanied by a mysterious female figure. “We came to check on how you're doing,” Billy says. “Do you remember what happened?” I raise my head and look around. There's nobody in the driver's seat of the car. “Where is Jack?” I manage. Billy furrows his brows like a detective would when weighing evidence. An image of the classic TV show Columbo flashes through my mind—he could lull suspects into a false sense of security before dropping the hammer of his sharp intellect on their inconsistencies. But I'm not hiding anything here. Though why are modern shows so bad? That's another mystery entirely. “Mom, what were you doing out here? The road is an absolute disaster zone, with the car smashed up in the ditch.” My thoughts swim haphazardly as Billy reads something from my expression, then casts his eyes towards his new girlfriend for assistance. I try to get up but it hurts too much. Instead, I reach into my pocket and feel a sandy-sharp potato there. Maybe I can still wash it off. “I’m fine,” I reply. “I need to get back to plowing the field... baking buns for Jack... buying a chainsaw...” The darkness returns and I feel my body shiver. I'm in the car, traveling down bumps I've known for quite some time. Soon, I’m settled inside the cabin's living room on the couch. The coffee maker is gurgling in the corner of the room. Billy is on a call with a doctor about how to deal with grief and coping alone; it seems someone had died while cutting down a tree last year. He gets furious and threatens to take away the keys from the person he's talking to. It might be a good idea; many people have too many keys that they don't use anyway. My head is spinning with thoughts about Jack's absence. Where did he go? Someone runs water over potatoes while a pot clatters on the stovetop. My temper rises as I wait for Jack's return. I won't stay here by myself without an explanation from him. I call out for Jack until there's no sound left but my coughing voice. I crave sausage soup, and I know I must go to the store. As I try to move forward, I am wading through tar. They guide me to the coffee table. According to Jack, time runs faster the more hunched your back becomes. Let it be and let us sit here, motionless, gazing at the tips of our shoes. Surely, time has slowed down in this moment. Billy reaches out and takes my hand. A handsome, greying gentleman. His girlfriend also places her hand on top of the pile. Her name is Ewa. A beautiful name, something familiar about her. But did I hear her calling me mother? In the yard, a squirrel hops with a cone in its mouth. It freezes and stares at me. I avert my gaze. My hands suddenly look wrinkled. I summon the inner strength that I've been striving to find for an eternity: “Do we have to leave now?” Billy exchanges glances with Ewa and then looks outside. “You don't have to walk this path alone, Mother.” We finish our coffee without saying another word. The wind sweeps across the lake. A pair of swans take flight, and a duet of gentle honks echo across the water. A shivering cold envelops me. Billy and Ewa take me to the car. The potatoes can wait. The sun blazes brightly above us as we travel the cabin road; shapeless clouds dot the horizon and suddenly I sense a presence—as if someone is waving to me. I surrender. I believe I will be warmly welcomed.
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2023.05.30 19:05 MjolnirPants Sookie and the Tricky Dick
"Okay," Sookie called out. "That's a wrap!"
A ragged cheer went up from the cast and crew. Deacon walked around, clapping his hands and cheering loudly, making sure everyone else was cheering, too. Sookie walked over to her chair and sank into it, her feet throbbing in time to the cheering people around her. She smiled at anyone who caught her eye and just relaxed.
This was the end of a grueling, forty-five day shooting schedule that had been supposed to be ten hour days, but had ended up being more like thirteen to eighteen hour days for her. They weren't done filming the season. Far from it, in fact. But these were the worst shots, and the cast and crew involved had all agreed to push through hard until it was done. After this, they had about two more months of shooting on a more normal schedule, and then editing could begin.
Deacon, despite his enthusiasm for the end of the push, had not had to attend most of the shots they got, and had instead, been spending 'quality' time with a couple of local groupies and the White Lady. Sookie didn't begrudge him this, of course. She worried a little about the amount of booger sugar going up his nose at times, but his agent had repeatedly assured her that he was using far more often during shoots than during his off time.
Besides, it was only fitting that the star of the show should enjoy the fruits of his fame. Sookie herself had picked up a bisexual couple a week or two ago, when they had a shoot end 'early' (at nine PM) and the next's day's shoot wasn't scheduled to begin until eight AM. She had left set almost immediately and headed to a local gay bar, where someone had recognized her from her OnlyFans days and insisted upon introducing his boyfriend.
She sighed, remembering the sensation of two well-endowed men thrusting into her, and how she'd simply melted when the one behind her leaned forward and around to kiss the other. Bi men were soooo hawt...
She promised herself she'd try to find another bisexual 'gay' couple, now that she had the time.
Deacon had finally got everyone sufficiently enthusiastic -which was a credit to his charisma, really, as everybody was exhausted- and came over to sit next to her in his own chair.
"I am so ready for a couple weeks off," he said.
"It's one week," Sookie reminded him. "And then you need to be ready for the fight scenes. Have you been working with your choreographer?"
"I haven't really had the time..." Deacon whined, causing Sookie to sigh.
"Deek," she said, sitting up in her chair and turning to face him. "You haven't needed to be on set for the past two weeks. You've been coming to, in your own words, 'help keep morale up'. And while I do appreciate your efforts in that regards, it is far more important for you to be ready to shoot your fight scenes in a week. I'm serious here. You need to get with your choreographer and get your moves nailed down tight. We don't have time to push those shoots back any further."
Deacon held up his hands in surrender. "I'll be down at the dojo tomorrow, I swear."
"Tomorrow morning," Sookie insisted.
"Tomorrow morning," Deacon agreed. "In fact, I'm going to get the playbook and go over it tonight, to try to get a head start."
Sookie smiled and patted him on the knee as she rose. She didn't want to be here anymore. The PAs and crew could finish cleaning everything up so the teardown crews could get started tomorrow.
She found her personal assistant and instructed her to make sure everyone knew to do their own breakdowns, then left. Filming on set had certain advantages, including the fact that she was within walking distance of her hotel.
The security guard that Julie had insisted she maintain since that incident a few years ago with the psycho stan peeled herself off the wall she'd been holding up and fell into step behind her. Sookie wouldn't have minded so much, except Julie had carefully picked married, monogamous men and women to fill her security schedule with, to avoid any 'conflicts of interest'.
This gal, Linda Gottlieb, was probably the worst of all. She had a girlfriend and a boyfriend, and yet refused to sleep with anyone else. On top of that, she was as slender as Sookie, flat chested (which Sookie found to be a major turn on) and hard as a rock, with veiny arms and shoulders and even a few visible on her belly.
Sookie was a woman of many tastes, but skinny girls with visible veins and no tits were one of her more notable favorites, and so Linda's categorical refusal to so much as let Sookie slip a hand down her pants was grating.
Linda wasn't wearing a uniform. She wore a tight tank top and a loose flannel with the sleeves rolled up and the front unbuttoned over a pair of blue jeans and hiking boots. Sookie knew she had a gun on her somewhere, but couldn't speculate as to where.
Well, that's not true. Sookie imagined the handle sticking of her ass, riding up between the cheeks of that ass that all flat-chested women seemed to have that was categorically unfair to better-if-still-modestly endowed women like Sookie. She slowed down to get a peek at it.
"Looking at my ass again?" Linda asked.
"Yes," Sookie said. "I was wondering if you keep your gun there. The handle could fit between those cheeks and nobody would be the wiser."
Linda laughed and lifted her flannel to show a handgun tucked into her belt on her hip. "Sorry to disappoint," she said. "But I kinda need to keep it where I could easily get at it."
Sookie sighed, her pleasant illusion ruined.
They turned left out of the studio gates and walked up the road. Despite the presence of the studio, this was kind of a rough area, so Sookie appreciated having some security as she made the walk. Not that she couldn't handle herself, but she'd learned the hard way that being taken by surprise left her as vulnerable as anyone.
They hadn't gotten more than a half a block before a ragged looking man approached them, reeking of booze and shit. His clothes were filthy and torn and he had a scraggly beard that ranged from a centimeter to three inches long, seemingly at random.
"Spare a dollar?" he asked.
"No," Linda said, stepping forward to catch his attention so Sookie could slip past.
"S'just a dollar, lady. I'll lick your pussy for it!" The man leered at Linda, who didn't blink or flinch, but rather gave him a hard shove back.
"Don't you fucking crowd me, talking shit like that," she said menacingly, taking another step forward to keep him off balance.
"Be respectful," she added with force. The man looked like he wanted to argue, but something in the way she looked or held herself made it clear to him that Linda was not to be trifled with. He stepped back until his back was to the wall of the building behind him and watched as Linda turned and caught back up to Sookie, who was watching the whole thing over her shoulder.
"Fucking Dykes!" the man shouted. "Suck my dick!"
"You'd think that at least one of them would figure out that being aggressive like that doesn't work," Sookie mused.
"It doesn't work on you or me, but that's because we know we could take his head off if he tried to get violent," Linda said. "Most women aren't fighters. They'll give him cash just to get him to stop harassing them."
"Fair enough," Sookie said.
This was a common occurrence. Almost every time Sookie walked to her hotel, at least one homeless person would try to panhandle her. Sometimes, if she had any cash, she'd give them some. Once in a blue moon, one would engender enough sympathy for a good payout, a hundred bucks or so. But most of the time, they struck her as entitled ruffians, living on the street thanks to their own bad decisions and trying to get by on other people's labor.
She knew that was an old-fashioned mindset. She knew a lot of these people would, if they got clean of whatever they were using, sort out their lives and take care of business. She knew that the DCM Group even had a charitable arm who straight up gave condos and large sums of money to many homeless people, who immediately used that gift to get back on their feet. She knew the stats, too.
But this particular area seemed to attract the sort of homeless people whom right-wing motards used as an archetype for all homeless people. Twice, someone from the crew had been assaulted, causing Sookie to declare that she and the stunt coordinator were the only ones allowed to walk to and from the studio.
"I wonder if they're actually even homeless," Linda said, her thoughts echoing Sookie's.
"Me too," Sookie said. "I mean, it's a very poor neighborhood, adjacent to a place where very wealthy people work. There's no rule that says you have to be homeless to panhandle."
Linda nodded. Sookie wondered idly if she'd been following her own logic, or seeking out a belief that made her feel better about judging the people here. She wasn't sure which, really.
The area they moved through got progressively nicer as they continued. They turned the last corner, with three blocks still to go when Sookie saw the next one.
This one was older. he only had about a week's worth of beard on his face, though Sookie could see that it was mostly gray. He wore similar clothes to the other one, the once-vibrant colors having long since faded towards a muted gray tone. His clothes, however, looked cleaner and the holes had all been neatly stitched. As they drew close, Sookie could read his sign.
Please help Leave a dollar or take a resume Will work for food
Sure enough, he had a stack of resumes weighted down with a rock next to him. Sookie stopped, intrigued and bent down to retrieve one. She handed the man a folded ten dollar bill at the same time. A reward for creativity in his panhandling, she thought.
She looked at it. The man had a pair of enlistments in the Marine Corps at the top of his work experience. It was back in the early 2000s, and it mentioned Helmand Province, which Sookie recalled had been at the center of a lot of the fighting in Afghanistan.
The next few lines were security companies, starting with a high-end competitor to the Group, and then a long sequence of construction and day-labor work, ending on his current work, which was "Self Employed - Private Investigations". Below that, he had a string of qualifications, including armed security, close protection and bail enforcement.
"This is actually quite a good resume," Sookie told him. She glanced up at the top to get his name, Richard Nixon.
"Richard Nixon?" Sookie asked. "Like the president?"
Richard nodded. "I'll work," he said hopefully. "I can swing a hammer and do plumbing. I'll do a full day's work for lunch and dinner, or a hundred bucks, whichever you prefer."
Sookie handed the resume to Linda, who looked down at it.
"Ain't much different than mine," she said. "Oorah."
"Oorah," Richard muttered back, seemingly on pure instinct.
"So why are you out here, Richard?" Sookie asked. "Your resume says you're self-employed as a private eye."
Richard shrugged. Sookie noted the redness and swelling of his nose. "Work's been scarce," he said. "Been getting fewer jobs for the last few years. Fewer jobs means less money, less money means losing my office, not being able to afford nice clothes, which leads to fewer jobs."
Sookie looked a question at Linda, who shrugged. "We're always looking for investigators. It can be hard to recruit former cops, and those we do are often old enough not to stay on for more than a few years before retiring."
Sookie smiled and nodded, turning back to Richard. "You want an interview?"
"Hell yeah," he said with some enthusiasm. "As long as they don't mind me looking a little rough around the edges."
"Where do you live?" Sookie asked. Richard gestured around. "Lost my apartment last month," he said. Sookie pursed her lips and then nodded and held out a hand to him.
"Come on, Richard. I'm Sookie, and this is Linda. I'll make you a deal. I'll get you a nice outfit to wear and arrange an interview at the LA office tomorrow. I'll put you up on my couch for the night, too. That way, you can shower and shave and look presentable for it. What do you think?"
Richard took her hand and let her help him up. "Are you serious?" he asked. Sookie nodded.
"Holy crap, thank you, lady. Sookie, I mean. Thank you." His eyes began to get watery. "I don't... I don't even know what to say. That would be amazing."
Sookie smiled, her heart wrenching for the guy. She knew he had a drinking problem, but she also remembered all those people the Group's charities helped. Get someone on their feet, and there was a good chance they'd stay there.
"Do you have stuff to get?"
"I uh... I have a storage shed. It's paid up through the end of the year," he said. "My stuff is safe there, I just need to go get my toiletries."
"Don't worry about that," Sookie said, stepping to the edge of the sidewalk and waiting for the traffic to clear enough to cross the road. "We can stop by a drug store, too."
----
Sookie and Linda took Richard shopping and got him everything he needed. Which wasn't much, really. Sookie had a spare toothbrush, razors, shaving cream and cologne at her hotel room. It was all stuff she kept on hand to be the best slut she could be, and make her dishes du jour feel welcome. They bought him deodorant and an electric beard trimmer, and decided to take a pit stop at a hair and nails salon next to the pharmacy.
The girls there had cooed and gooed over Sookie and Linda helping this man out, and refused to accept any money for the trim he got. Unfortunately, they weren't set up to shave a man (all of the other clients inside were women), but Richard protested that he was perfectly capable of shaving himself, so it all worked out.
The next stop was, at Sookie's insistence, one of the ultra-high-end men's clothing stores near her hotel. Linda had protested that simply taking a car to Walmart would be good enough, but Sookie would have none of that.
"Linda, it's been over six years since I've seen a person in Walmart that I'd be willing to give a handy to. It's been even longer since I've seen any clothing there that looked like it didn't come from Walmart, especially the suits. We're not going to Walmart."
As a result, Richard got fitted for a custom-tailored suit and outfitted with a tie that was a pleasant, deep blue, bespeckled with tiny, gold-embroidered Marine Corps logos. He seemed pleased with it, and had to keep wiping his eyes as he repeatedly and profusely thanked her.
When all was done, they finally went to the hotel. Sookie had a full suite on the top floor. It wasn't the biggest suite, but it was close, with two spare bedrooms, a living room and a full kitchen, in addition to a balcony that afforded her a great view of the city (so long as the smog wasn't too bad) and a private elevator to the rooftop pool.
Linda took her usual spot at the door to await her relief for the evening while Sookie showed Richard the large bathroom and made sure he had everything he needed. While he showered and shaved, she decided to review the script.
She walked over to the safe in the living room and carefully punched in her combination on the keypad.
The scripts for The Legend of Jimmy were like solid gold. Every studio out there wanted to get their hands on one, to steal ideas from. Every fan wanted to get one, just for the thrill of knowing what was going to happen next. During the second season's filming, they'd had multiple scripts stolen and leaked, and Sookie had learned to crack down on that. As a result, she was the only one who ever had a full set of scripts for any given season. She kept them safely under lock and key at all times.
She pulled out her working copy, which was different from the 'archive' copy she also kept in the safe. The working copy had all of her handwritten notes on it. She closed the safe back up and locked it, then sat down at the table and flipped open to the scenes they would be filming after the break. Using a red pen, she made notes for herself, things to remember during shooting, like camera angles and notes on the VFX.
She heard the shower turn off, but she was engrossed in her work when the door opened.
"Thanks again," Richard said, causing her to look up. He had a towel around his waist, but Sookie noted that he had a lean torso, with some muscle still there, despite a rough life. Clean shaven now, he looked much better. He'd never get a gig as a model, but he was handsome enough in his own way. Sookie smiled at him.
"You don't have to keep thanking me," she said. "I'm happy to help."
She closed her script and stood, walking it over to the safe. Obscuring her hands with her body, she punched in the code again and placed the script inside. She hadn't yet closed the door when she heard Richard mutter "Oh shit."
She turned to look and froze. He'd turned back towards the bathroom, and then dropped his towel by accident. He was currently in the process of picking it up, affording Sookie a great view of his ass and what might well have been considered a third leg hanging from between the other two.
It came almost to his knees.
A flush of heat went through her, washing away all thoughts of largess and generosity, and kindling a very selfish desire. She heard the spattering on the hardwood floor where she crouched as her usual over-the-top wetness kicked into high gear and soaked through her pants in seconds. She could feel herself throbbing as she eyed Richard's enormous member.
Her disguise slipped and the horns erupted from her head, her tail curled up painfully inside her pants and her skin turned red, with large patches of scales. Operating purely on instinct, she magicked up a veil of mundanity. She didn't want Richard to freak out, and this would keep him from registering her appearance as anything out of the ordinary.
He retrieved his towel and made to wrap it back around his waist, but Sookie shot to her feet and spun, already ripping her shirt off.
"Wait," she said. Richard froze, then turned to look at her over one shoulder. She tossed her shirt on the couch and peeled off her pants. She wasn't wearing any underwear or bra, of course. She never did.
"I just thought of a way you could thank me," she purred, taking a languid step forward. Richard reacted immediately to the sight of her naked, turning, his hog's leg stiffening and rising from its vertical hang slightly.
"Are you, uh... I mean... I'm not..." Richard stammered. Sookie stepped closer to him and put her hands on his shoulder, then ran them down his chest.
"I am damn sure I want to do this, if that's what you're asking," she said, her hands reaching lower as she stepped close enough to press her breasts into his ribs. She took hold of him and felt him grow almost immediately rock hard as he gasped.
"Wow," he said. "This is... This is like something from a porno with a bad script..." he said.
"Uh huh," Sookie said. "And we're about to do the fun parts of it." She pressed her lips into his, and then squealed in delight as he grabbed her by the ass and hoisted her up.
"Where?" he asked into her mouth.
"Pussy, mouth and ass," she replied. She felt the heat rush through his cheeks.
"I meant where in this room," he said.
"I don't fucking care," Sookie responded, lining his huge cock up with her most convenient hole and squirming down onto it with a loud gasp.
"In the bedroom!" Linda shouted. "Please, for the love of god, in the bedroom!"
----
Sookie awoke the next morning and rolled over to see if Richard was up for a little wake-and-shake. Her hands slapped the empty bed and she pouted.
"Richard?" she called, a wonderful aroma meeting her nose as she did. "Are you making coffee already? I'll fall in love with you, or deepthroat you, your choice, if you are!"
He didn't answer.
She opened her eyes and saw that his new suit was missing. An empty hanger was hooked to the coathanger next to the closet. She climbed out of bed, frowning, and walked out into the living room.
It was empty. She could smell the coffee even stronger, and she walked into the kitchen to find the coffee pot full and a business card sitting next to it. She picked it up and peered at it with sleep-bleary eyes.
"Eric Stephens, Private Investigations, Corporate Espionage, Bail Bonds, Security Consultation," she read out loud. There was a QR code on it, so she picked up her phone from where it had been flung to the floor last night and scanned it. While the page loaded, she glanced in the bathroom to see Richard's old clothes still piled there.
She glanced at her phone to see a very clean-shaven and well-dressed Richard smiling at the camera at the top of a very tastefully designed web page. She scrolled through it for a moment, confused. This was clearly him, but why had he given her a fake name? She supposed he could have had this nice website built back when he was still working enough to afford it, but... It seemed off. It didn't fit. Sookie didn't get it.
That was, until she looked to her own pile of clothes by the safe and saw the door still hanging open. With a gasp, she rushed over only to find the safe empty. Both of her scripts were gone!
"Shit!" she shouted.
The door opened and a large, muscular man dressed like a lawyer rushed in, a gun in hand.
"Miss Ohma, is everything all right?" he asked after scanning the room and peering through the open doors.
"No," Sookie wailed. "I just got my scripts stolen!"
"The gentleman who left this morning?" her guard asked. She nodded. "I'm so sorry, Miss Ohma. I would have stopped him if I knew."
"No, you did fine," Sookie said as her eyes filled with frustrated tears. "You're used to men heading out in the morning. Usually they do it after I wake up and we can get another good fuck in, but still... You didn't do anything wrong."
"He left a note," the guard said. "I saw it taped to the inside of the door." Sookie looked over and saw a folded piece of paper taped there. She stalked over and ripped it down, sniffling angrily and wiping at her eyes to read it.
"Motherfucker!" she shouted. The guard winced, but said nothing.
"He scammed me," Sookie said. "Got a nice new suit out of me, seduced me with that redwood growing between his legs and then ran off with my fucking scripts!"
She let her claws form and dug them into her thighs, carving bloody furrows that healed almost as fast as she made them. The guard started and rushed over.
"Ma'am, please," he said. "I'm not supposed to let you hurt yourself."
Sookie let him pull her hands up to her chest. She leaned into him for a moment. "You're married, aren't you?" she said.
"Uh, no," he said. Sookie turned her head to regard him. She didn't recognize him. "What's your name?"
"Devin, Ma'am," he said. "Devin Iglesias. This is my first shift on your detail."
"Who put you on this shift?"
"Uhh, Missus Williams. She said I'd enjoy this detail, and I agreed. I'm a huge fan of your show, Miss Ohma."
"Are you gay?" Sookie asked. Devin blinked. "Uh, no, Ma'am."
Sookie smiled. "I need you to do two things," she said.
"The second, and most important thing, I need you to call the office and ask for any information they have on a private investigator named Eric Stephens who works out of LA."
Devin nodded. "Yes, ma'am. And the first thing?"
Sookie smiled wider. "I need you to find out the real reason why Inanna thought you'd enjoy this posting."
submitted by MjolnirPants to JerryandtheGoddesses [link] [comments]
A ragged cheer went up from the cast and crew. Deacon walked around, clapping his hands and cheering loudly, making sure everyone else was cheering, too. Sookie walked over to her chair and sank into it, her feet throbbing in time to the cheering people around her. She smiled at anyone who caught her eye and just relaxed.
This was the end of a grueling, forty-five day shooting schedule that had been supposed to be ten hour days, but had ended up being more like thirteen to eighteen hour days for her. They weren't done filming the season. Far from it, in fact. But these were the worst shots, and the cast and crew involved had all agreed to push through hard until it was done. After this, they had about two more months of shooting on a more normal schedule, and then editing could begin.
Deacon, despite his enthusiasm for the end of the push, had not had to attend most of the shots they got, and had instead, been spending 'quality' time with a couple of local groupies and the White Lady. Sookie didn't begrudge him this, of course. She worried a little about the amount of booger sugar going up his nose at times, but his agent had repeatedly assured her that he was using far more often during shoots than during his off time.
Besides, it was only fitting that the star of the show should enjoy the fruits of his fame. Sookie herself had picked up a bisexual couple a week or two ago, when they had a shoot end 'early' (at nine PM) and the next's day's shoot wasn't scheduled to begin until eight AM. She had left set almost immediately and headed to a local gay bar, where someone had recognized her from her OnlyFans days and insisted upon introducing his boyfriend.
She sighed, remembering the sensation of two well-endowed men thrusting into her, and how she'd simply melted when the one behind her leaned forward and around to kiss the other. Bi men were soooo hawt...
She promised herself she'd try to find another bisexual 'gay' couple, now that she had the time.
Deacon had finally got everyone sufficiently enthusiastic -which was a credit to his charisma, really, as everybody was exhausted- and came over to sit next to her in his own chair.
"I am so ready for a couple weeks off," he said.
"It's one week," Sookie reminded him. "And then you need to be ready for the fight scenes. Have you been working with your choreographer?"
"I haven't really had the time..." Deacon whined, causing Sookie to sigh.
"Deek," she said, sitting up in her chair and turning to face him. "You haven't needed to be on set for the past two weeks. You've been coming to, in your own words, 'help keep morale up'. And while I do appreciate your efforts in that regards, it is far more important for you to be ready to shoot your fight scenes in a week. I'm serious here. You need to get with your choreographer and get your moves nailed down tight. We don't have time to push those shoots back any further."
Deacon held up his hands in surrender. "I'll be down at the dojo tomorrow, I swear."
"Tomorrow morning," Sookie insisted.
"Tomorrow morning," Deacon agreed. "In fact, I'm going to get the playbook and go over it tonight, to try to get a head start."
Sookie smiled and patted him on the knee as she rose. She didn't want to be here anymore. The PAs and crew could finish cleaning everything up so the teardown crews could get started tomorrow.
She found her personal assistant and instructed her to make sure everyone knew to do their own breakdowns, then left. Filming on set had certain advantages, including the fact that she was within walking distance of her hotel.
The security guard that Julie had insisted she maintain since that incident a few years ago with the psycho stan peeled herself off the wall she'd been holding up and fell into step behind her. Sookie wouldn't have minded so much, except Julie had carefully picked married, monogamous men and women to fill her security schedule with, to avoid any 'conflicts of interest'.
This gal, Linda Gottlieb, was probably the worst of all. She had a girlfriend and a boyfriend, and yet refused to sleep with anyone else. On top of that, she was as slender as Sookie, flat chested (which Sookie found to be a major turn on) and hard as a rock, with veiny arms and shoulders and even a few visible on her belly.
Sookie was a woman of many tastes, but skinny girls with visible veins and no tits were one of her more notable favorites, and so Linda's categorical refusal to so much as let Sookie slip a hand down her pants was grating.
Linda wasn't wearing a uniform. She wore a tight tank top and a loose flannel with the sleeves rolled up and the front unbuttoned over a pair of blue jeans and hiking boots. Sookie knew she had a gun on her somewhere, but couldn't speculate as to where.
Well, that's not true. Sookie imagined the handle sticking of her ass, riding up between the cheeks of that ass that all flat-chested women seemed to have that was categorically unfair to better-if-still-modestly endowed women like Sookie. She slowed down to get a peek at it.
"Looking at my ass again?" Linda asked.
"Yes," Sookie said. "I was wondering if you keep your gun there. The handle could fit between those cheeks and nobody would be the wiser."
Linda laughed and lifted her flannel to show a handgun tucked into her belt on her hip. "Sorry to disappoint," she said. "But I kinda need to keep it where I could easily get at it."
Sookie sighed, her pleasant illusion ruined.
They turned left out of the studio gates and walked up the road. Despite the presence of the studio, this was kind of a rough area, so Sookie appreciated having some security as she made the walk. Not that she couldn't handle herself, but she'd learned the hard way that being taken by surprise left her as vulnerable as anyone.
They hadn't gotten more than a half a block before a ragged looking man approached them, reeking of booze and shit. His clothes were filthy and torn and he had a scraggly beard that ranged from a centimeter to three inches long, seemingly at random.
"Spare a dollar?" he asked.
"No," Linda said, stepping forward to catch his attention so Sookie could slip past.
"S'just a dollar, lady. I'll lick your pussy for it!" The man leered at Linda, who didn't blink or flinch, but rather gave him a hard shove back.
"Don't you fucking crowd me, talking shit like that," she said menacingly, taking another step forward to keep him off balance.
"Be respectful," she added with force. The man looked like he wanted to argue, but something in the way she looked or held herself made it clear to him that Linda was not to be trifled with. He stepped back until his back was to the wall of the building behind him and watched as Linda turned and caught back up to Sookie, who was watching the whole thing over her shoulder.
"Fucking Dykes!" the man shouted. "Suck my dick!"
"You'd think that at least one of them would figure out that being aggressive like that doesn't work," Sookie mused.
"It doesn't work on you or me, but that's because we know we could take his head off if he tried to get violent," Linda said. "Most women aren't fighters. They'll give him cash just to get him to stop harassing them."
"Fair enough," Sookie said.
This was a common occurrence. Almost every time Sookie walked to her hotel, at least one homeless person would try to panhandle her. Sometimes, if she had any cash, she'd give them some. Once in a blue moon, one would engender enough sympathy for a good payout, a hundred bucks or so. But most of the time, they struck her as entitled ruffians, living on the street thanks to their own bad decisions and trying to get by on other people's labor.
She knew that was an old-fashioned mindset. She knew a lot of these people would, if they got clean of whatever they were using, sort out their lives and take care of business. She knew that the DCM Group even had a charitable arm who straight up gave condos and large sums of money to many homeless people, who immediately used that gift to get back on their feet. She knew the stats, too.
But this particular area seemed to attract the sort of homeless people whom right-wing motards used as an archetype for all homeless people. Twice, someone from the crew had been assaulted, causing Sookie to declare that she and the stunt coordinator were the only ones allowed to walk to and from the studio.
"I wonder if they're actually even homeless," Linda said, her thoughts echoing Sookie's.
"Me too," Sookie said. "I mean, it's a very poor neighborhood, adjacent to a place where very wealthy people work. There's no rule that says you have to be homeless to panhandle."
Linda nodded. Sookie wondered idly if she'd been following her own logic, or seeking out a belief that made her feel better about judging the people here. She wasn't sure which, really.
The area they moved through got progressively nicer as they continued. They turned the last corner, with three blocks still to go when Sookie saw the next one.
This one was older. he only had about a week's worth of beard on his face, though Sookie could see that it was mostly gray. He wore similar clothes to the other one, the once-vibrant colors having long since faded towards a muted gray tone. His clothes, however, looked cleaner and the holes had all been neatly stitched. As they drew close, Sookie could read his sign.
Please help Leave a dollar or take a resume Will work for food
Sure enough, he had a stack of resumes weighted down with a rock next to him. Sookie stopped, intrigued and bent down to retrieve one. She handed the man a folded ten dollar bill at the same time. A reward for creativity in his panhandling, she thought.
She looked at it. The man had a pair of enlistments in the Marine Corps at the top of his work experience. It was back in the early 2000s, and it mentioned Helmand Province, which Sookie recalled had been at the center of a lot of the fighting in Afghanistan.
The next few lines were security companies, starting with a high-end competitor to the Group, and then a long sequence of construction and day-labor work, ending on his current work, which was "Self Employed - Private Investigations". Below that, he had a string of qualifications, including armed security, close protection and bail enforcement.
"This is actually quite a good resume," Sookie told him. She glanced up at the top to get his name, Richard Nixon.
"Richard Nixon?" Sookie asked. "Like the president?"
Richard nodded. "I'll work," he said hopefully. "I can swing a hammer and do plumbing. I'll do a full day's work for lunch and dinner, or a hundred bucks, whichever you prefer."
Sookie handed the resume to Linda, who looked down at it.
"Ain't much different than mine," she said. "Oorah."
"Oorah," Richard muttered back, seemingly on pure instinct.
"So why are you out here, Richard?" Sookie asked. "Your resume says you're self-employed as a private eye."
Richard shrugged. Sookie noted the redness and swelling of his nose. "Work's been scarce," he said. "Been getting fewer jobs for the last few years. Fewer jobs means less money, less money means losing my office, not being able to afford nice clothes, which leads to fewer jobs."
Sookie looked a question at Linda, who shrugged. "We're always looking for investigators. It can be hard to recruit former cops, and those we do are often old enough not to stay on for more than a few years before retiring."
Sookie smiled and nodded, turning back to Richard. "You want an interview?"
"Hell yeah," he said with some enthusiasm. "As long as they don't mind me looking a little rough around the edges."
"Where do you live?" Sookie asked. Richard gestured around. "Lost my apartment last month," he said. Sookie pursed her lips and then nodded and held out a hand to him.
"Come on, Richard. I'm Sookie, and this is Linda. I'll make you a deal. I'll get you a nice outfit to wear and arrange an interview at the LA office tomorrow. I'll put you up on my couch for the night, too. That way, you can shower and shave and look presentable for it. What do you think?"
Richard took her hand and let her help him up. "Are you serious?" he asked. Sookie nodded.
"Holy crap, thank you, lady. Sookie, I mean. Thank you." His eyes began to get watery. "I don't... I don't even know what to say. That would be amazing."
Sookie smiled, her heart wrenching for the guy. She knew he had a drinking problem, but she also remembered all those people the Group's charities helped. Get someone on their feet, and there was a good chance they'd stay there.
"Do you have stuff to get?"
"I uh... I have a storage shed. It's paid up through the end of the year," he said. "My stuff is safe there, I just need to go get my toiletries."
"Don't worry about that," Sookie said, stepping to the edge of the sidewalk and waiting for the traffic to clear enough to cross the road. "We can stop by a drug store, too."
----
Sookie and Linda took Richard shopping and got him everything he needed. Which wasn't much, really. Sookie had a spare toothbrush, razors, shaving cream and cologne at her hotel room. It was all stuff she kept on hand to be the best slut she could be, and make her dishes du jour feel welcome. They bought him deodorant and an electric beard trimmer, and decided to take a pit stop at a hair and nails salon next to the pharmacy.
The girls there had cooed and gooed over Sookie and Linda helping this man out, and refused to accept any money for the trim he got. Unfortunately, they weren't set up to shave a man (all of the other clients inside were women), but Richard protested that he was perfectly capable of shaving himself, so it all worked out.
The next stop was, at Sookie's insistence, one of the ultra-high-end men's clothing stores near her hotel. Linda had protested that simply taking a car to Walmart would be good enough, but Sookie would have none of that.
"Linda, it's been over six years since I've seen a person in Walmart that I'd be willing to give a handy to. It's been even longer since I've seen any clothing there that looked like it didn't come from Walmart, especially the suits. We're not going to Walmart."
As a result, Richard got fitted for a custom-tailored suit and outfitted with a tie that was a pleasant, deep blue, bespeckled with tiny, gold-embroidered Marine Corps logos. He seemed pleased with it, and had to keep wiping his eyes as he repeatedly and profusely thanked her.
When all was done, they finally went to the hotel. Sookie had a full suite on the top floor. It wasn't the biggest suite, but it was close, with two spare bedrooms, a living room and a full kitchen, in addition to a balcony that afforded her a great view of the city (so long as the smog wasn't too bad) and a private elevator to the rooftop pool.
Linda took her usual spot at the door to await her relief for the evening while Sookie showed Richard the large bathroom and made sure he had everything he needed. While he showered and shaved, she decided to review the script.
She walked over to the safe in the living room and carefully punched in her combination on the keypad.
The scripts for The Legend of Jimmy were like solid gold. Every studio out there wanted to get their hands on one, to steal ideas from. Every fan wanted to get one, just for the thrill of knowing what was going to happen next. During the second season's filming, they'd had multiple scripts stolen and leaked, and Sookie had learned to crack down on that. As a result, she was the only one who ever had a full set of scripts for any given season. She kept them safely under lock and key at all times.
She pulled out her working copy, which was different from the 'archive' copy she also kept in the safe. The working copy had all of her handwritten notes on it. She closed the safe back up and locked it, then sat down at the table and flipped open to the scenes they would be filming after the break. Using a red pen, she made notes for herself, things to remember during shooting, like camera angles and notes on the VFX.
She heard the shower turn off, but she was engrossed in her work when the door opened.
"Thanks again," Richard said, causing her to look up. He had a towel around his waist, but Sookie noted that he had a lean torso, with some muscle still there, despite a rough life. Clean shaven now, he looked much better. He'd never get a gig as a model, but he was handsome enough in his own way. Sookie smiled at him.
"You don't have to keep thanking me," she said. "I'm happy to help."
She closed her script and stood, walking it over to the safe. Obscuring her hands with her body, she punched in the code again and placed the script inside. She hadn't yet closed the door when she heard Richard mutter "Oh shit."
She turned to look and froze. He'd turned back towards the bathroom, and then dropped his towel by accident. He was currently in the process of picking it up, affording Sookie a great view of his ass and what might well have been considered a third leg hanging from between the other two.
It came almost to his knees.
A flush of heat went through her, washing away all thoughts of largess and generosity, and kindling a very selfish desire. She heard the spattering on the hardwood floor where she crouched as her usual over-the-top wetness kicked into high gear and soaked through her pants in seconds. She could feel herself throbbing as she eyed Richard's enormous member.
Her disguise slipped and the horns erupted from her head, her tail curled up painfully inside her pants and her skin turned red, with large patches of scales. Operating purely on instinct, she magicked up a veil of mundanity. She didn't want Richard to freak out, and this would keep him from registering her appearance as anything out of the ordinary.
He retrieved his towel and made to wrap it back around his waist, but Sookie shot to her feet and spun, already ripping her shirt off.
"Wait," she said. Richard froze, then turned to look at her over one shoulder. She tossed her shirt on the couch and peeled off her pants. She wasn't wearing any underwear or bra, of course. She never did.
"I just thought of a way you could thank me," she purred, taking a languid step forward. Richard reacted immediately to the sight of her naked, turning, his hog's leg stiffening and rising from its vertical hang slightly.
"Are you, uh... I mean... I'm not..." Richard stammered. Sookie stepped closer to him and put her hands on his shoulder, then ran them down his chest.
"I am damn sure I want to do this, if that's what you're asking," she said, her hands reaching lower as she stepped close enough to press her breasts into his ribs. She took hold of him and felt him grow almost immediately rock hard as he gasped.
"Wow," he said. "This is... This is like something from a porno with a bad script..." he said.
"Uh huh," Sookie said. "And we're about to do the fun parts of it." She pressed her lips into his, and then squealed in delight as he grabbed her by the ass and hoisted her up.
"Where?" he asked into her mouth.
"Pussy, mouth and ass," she replied. She felt the heat rush through his cheeks.
"I meant where in this room," he said.
"I don't fucking care," Sookie responded, lining his huge cock up with her most convenient hole and squirming down onto it with a loud gasp.
"In the bedroom!" Linda shouted. "Please, for the love of god, in the bedroom!"
----
Sookie awoke the next morning and rolled over to see if Richard was up for a little wake-and-shake. Her hands slapped the empty bed and she pouted.
"Richard?" she called, a wonderful aroma meeting her nose as she did. "Are you making coffee already? I'll fall in love with you, or deepthroat you, your choice, if you are!"
He didn't answer.
She opened her eyes and saw that his new suit was missing. An empty hanger was hooked to the coathanger next to the closet. She climbed out of bed, frowning, and walked out into the living room.
It was empty. She could smell the coffee even stronger, and she walked into the kitchen to find the coffee pot full and a business card sitting next to it. She picked it up and peered at it with sleep-bleary eyes.
"Eric Stephens, Private Investigations, Corporate Espionage, Bail Bonds, Security Consultation," she read out loud. There was a QR code on it, so she picked up her phone from where it had been flung to the floor last night and scanned it. While the page loaded, she glanced in the bathroom to see Richard's old clothes still piled there.
She glanced at her phone to see a very clean-shaven and well-dressed Richard smiling at the camera at the top of a very tastefully designed web page. She scrolled through it for a moment, confused. This was clearly him, but why had he given her a fake name? She supposed he could have had this nice website built back when he was still working enough to afford it, but... It seemed off. It didn't fit. Sookie didn't get it.
That was, until she looked to her own pile of clothes by the safe and saw the door still hanging open. With a gasp, she rushed over only to find the safe empty. Both of her scripts were gone!
"Shit!" she shouted.
The door opened and a large, muscular man dressed like a lawyer rushed in, a gun in hand.
"Miss Ohma, is everything all right?" he asked after scanning the room and peering through the open doors.
"No," Sookie wailed. "I just got my scripts stolen!"
"The gentleman who left this morning?" her guard asked. She nodded. "I'm so sorry, Miss Ohma. I would have stopped him if I knew."
"No, you did fine," Sookie said as her eyes filled with frustrated tears. "You're used to men heading out in the morning. Usually they do it after I wake up and we can get another good fuck in, but still... You didn't do anything wrong."
"He left a note," the guard said. "I saw it taped to the inside of the door." Sookie looked over and saw a folded piece of paper taped there. She stalked over and ripped it down, sniffling angrily and wiping at her eyes to read it.
Dear Sookie, Last night was probably the best night I've had in my life. It's certainly the best night I can remember. If you ever want to do it again, just let me know. I left you a card by the coffee machine, and there's a full pot for you, as well. If you don't ever want to see me again, well, I guess I understand. I'm sorry to have left the way I did, but I'm a man of my word, and my client was willing to pay a lot of money for that script. I hope this doesn't hurt you too much. For what it's worth, I'm sorry if I upset you. Wishing you all the best, EricSookie crumbled up the paper and angrily threw it across the room.
"Motherfucker!" she shouted. The guard winced, but said nothing.
"He scammed me," Sookie said. "Got a nice new suit out of me, seduced me with that redwood growing between his legs and then ran off with my fucking scripts!"
She let her claws form and dug them into her thighs, carving bloody furrows that healed almost as fast as she made them. The guard started and rushed over.
"Ma'am, please," he said. "I'm not supposed to let you hurt yourself."
Sookie let him pull her hands up to her chest. She leaned into him for a moment. "You're married, aren't you?" she said.
"Uh, no," he said. Sookie turned her head to regard him. She didn't recognize him. "What's your name?"
"Devin, Ma'am," he said. "Devin Iglesias. This is my first shift on your detail."
"Who put you on this shift?"
"Uhh, Missus Williams. She said I'd enjoy this detail, and I agreed. I'm a huge fan of your show, Miss Ohma."
"Are you gay?" Sookie asked. Devin blinked. "Uh, no, Ma'am."
Sookie smiled. "I need you to do two things," she said.
"The second, and most important thing, I need you to call the office and ask for any information they have on a private investigator named Eric Stephens who works out of LA."
Devin nodded. "Yes, ma'am. And the first thing?"
Sookie smiled wider. "I need you to find out the real reason why Inanna thought you'd enjoy this posting."
2023.05.30 19:00 London-Roma-1980 [Fantasy] Great Naismith Project Week 3 Summary
As part of my project (available at BestOfDivI), I've added (read: made up) a few extra tidbits for history's sake. For example, it's been a decade since Michigan State crashed the national title game before losing to Duke. I bring this up because in the nine seasons between then and this one, only UCLA (six times), Kentucky (five times), North Carolina (four times), Kansas (twice), and Duke (once) have been in the NIBL National Championship game.
This season doesn't seem to be trending any differently. On to non-conference play!
MATCHDAY 7
The Super Five re-asserted their dominance over the rest of the NIBL. Wilt Chamberlain not only scored 21 points but held Red Kerr scoreless as Kansas knocked off Illinois. In an outside vs inside battle, outside won as Grant Hill and JJ Redick helped Duke pull one out against Houston. Michael Jordan may have taken the UCLA loss personally as he went off for 38 in North Carolina's rout of Arizona State.
Kansas was one of three remaining unbeatens. In the other meetings, Chris Webber scored 31 as Michigan routed Louisville. In the main event, with all the big men playing evenly with each other, it was Reggie Miller who was the difference as UCLA took out Kentucky to stake a claim at the #1 spot. (In the other Top 25 matchup, Kevin Durant put up 25 as Texas beat Minnesota.)
MATCHDAY 8
Anyone hoping for a disturbance in the usual order was in for a rude awakening this day. UCLA became the only unbeaten remaining -- building off of their 37-0 season last year -- by getting both Joel Embiid and Wilt Chamberlain in foul trouble as UCLA knocked off Kansas. There was a chance for a second... hypothetically, but the That Was Out Of Bounds Revenge Tour continued as North Carolina routed Michigan with all 15 players getting in. A rivalry game saw a showcase for Dave Bing, who proved to be the difference as Syracuse upended Connecticut. What seemed like the NIBL's most glamorous chess match was won by Mike Krzyzewski over Bobby Knight as Grant Hill running the point was the secret to Duke's rout of Indiana. (For those asking, the other Five Star team licked their wounds and recovered as Kentucky destroyed Florida State.)
Things were much closer outside of this bubble. Junior Bridgeman's buzzer beater proved the difference in overtime as Louisville took out Maryland. Jason Richardson and Aaron Gordon traded baskets, but Magic Johnson found the answers as Michigan State held off Arizona. A defensive swarm put Kevin Durant off his game as Adrian Dantley took over, leading Notre Dame to a laugher over Texas. A Rose Bowl broke out on the hardwood, and as has been the case several times, Southern Cal held off Ohio State. And for those hoping for a mid-major resurgence, that looks unlikely as Georgetown took out UNLV and showed the dominance of the Power Six conferences.
MATCHDAY 9
The big story, again, was the dominance of the top 3 teams in the poll. The presumptive new #1 showed off their depth when Kiki Vandeweghe of all people led the scoring and UCLA shut down Michigan State. The Michael Jordan Took That Loss Personally Tour raged on as MJ's triple-double fueled North Carolina's rout of Alabama. In what was supposed to be a rivalry game, one team shut down the other without much trouble as Kentucky put up 100 on Louisville. And while it wasn't a Top 25 game yet -- the two teams are ranked now -- a huge reality check hammered down as Duke took care of Iowa easily.
Elsewhere, the Top 25 matchups were a lot calmer. The Orange continued their display of dominance as Syracuse defeated Illinois to raise the question of whether someone could compete with the Tobacco Road crew. "We Want Kansas" rang through the home crowd while Michigan dropped the hammer on Notre Dame to move to 8-1 on the season. Kansas' "Big 3" of Paul Pierce, Wilt Chamberlain, and Joel Embiid each had 16 as the Jayhawks took out Southern Cal. Isiah Thomas' 19-5-11 game was enough as Indiana recovered to defeat Arizona State. And in a huge surprise, the Forty Minutes of Hell was too much for Elvin Hayes and Damon Jones as Arkansas upset Houston, knocking the Cougars out of the Top 25.
LOOKING AHEAD
With the NIBL Media Poll soon to debut alongside the on-running NIBL Coaches' Poll, the differences between the two will be interesting to see. But before that, we have one more week to get through. UCLA has three games to prove they are going for another perfect season. North Carolina and Kentucky drew each other, while Michigan wants to crack into the blue-blood zone against Duke at home. On top of that, two newly-ranked teams will be tested early, as Iowa faces Arkansas while Florida takes on California.
Thanks for reading! Check out BestOfDivI for a full update.
submitted by London-Roma-1980 to VintageNBA [link] [comments]
This season doesn't seem to be trending any differently. On to non-conference play!
MATCHDAY 7
The Super Five re-asserted their dominance over the rest of the NIBL. Wilt Chamberlain not only scored 21 points but held Red Kerr scoreless as Kansas knocked off Illinois. In an outside vs inside battle, outside won as Grant Hill and JJ Redick helped Duke pull one out against Houston. Michael Jordan may have taken the UCLA loss personally as he went off for 38 in North Carolina's rout of Arizona State.
Kansas was one of three remaining unbeatens. In the other meetings, Chris Webber scored 31 as Michigan routed Louisville. In the main event, with all the big men playing evenly with each other, it was Reggie Miller who was the difference as UCLA took out Kentucky to stake a claim at the #1 spot. (In the other Top 25 matchup, Kevin Durant put up 25 as Texas beat Minnesota.)
MATCHDAY 8
Anyone hoping for a disturbance in the usual order was in for a rude awakening this day. UCLA became the only unbeaten remaining -- building off of their 37-0 season last year -- by getting both Joel Embiid and Wilt Chamberlain in foul trouble as UCLA knocked off Kansas. There was a chance for a second... hypothetically, but the That Was Out Of Bounds Revenge Tour continued as North Carolina routed Michigan with all 15 players getting in. A rivalry game saw a showcase for Dave Bing, who proved to be the difference as Syracuse upended Connecticut. What seemed like the NIBL's most glamorous chess match was won by Mike Krzyzewski over Bobby Knight as Grant Hill running the point was the secret to Duke's rout of Indiana. (For those asking, the other Five Star team licked their wounds and recovered as Kentucky destroyed Florida State.)
Things were much closer outside of this bubble. Junior Bridgeman's buzzer beater proved the difference in overtime as Louisville took out Maryland. Jason Richardson and Aaron Gordon traded baskets, but Magic Johnson found the answers as Michigan State held off Arizona. A defensive swarm put Kevin Durant off his game as Adrian Dantley took over, leading Notre Dame to a laugher over Texas. A Rose Bowl broke out on the hardwood, and as has been the case several times, Southern Cal held off Ohio State. And for those hoping for a mid-major resurgence, that looks unlikely as Georgetown took out UNLV and showed the dominance of the Power Six conferences.
MATCHDAY 9
The big story, again, was the dominance of the top 3 teams in the poll. The presumptive new #1 showed off their depth when Kiki Vandeweghe of all people led the scoring and UCLA shut down Michigan State. The Michael Jordan Took That Loss Personally Tour raged on as MJ's triple-double fueled North Carolina's rout of Alabama. In what was supposed to be a rivalry game, one team shut down the other without much trouble as Kentucky put up 100 on Louisville. And while it wasn't a Top 25 game yet -- the two teams are ranked now -- a huge reality check hammered down as Duke took care of Iowa easily.
Elsewhere, the Top 25 matchups were a lot calmer. The Orange continued their display of dominance as Syracuse defeated Illinois to raise the question of whether someone could compete with the Tobacco Road crew. "We Want Kansas" rang through the home crowd while Michigan dropped the hammer on Notre Dame to move to 8-1 on the season. Kansas' "Big 3" of Paul Pierce, Wilt Chamberlain, and Joel Embiid each had 16 as the Jayhawks took out Southern Cal. Isiah Thomas' 19-5-11 game was enough as Indiana recovered to defeat Arizona State. And in a huge surprise, the Forty Minutes of Hell was too much for Elvin Hayes and Damon Jones as Arkansas upset Houston, knocking the Cougars out of the Top 25.
LOOKING AHEAD
With the NIBL Media Poll soon to debut alongside the on-running NIBL Coaches' Poll, the differences between the two will be interesting to see. But before that, we have one more week to get through. UCLA has three games to prove they are going for another perfect season. North Carolina and Kentucky drew each other, while Michigan wants to crack into the blue-blood zone against Duke at home. On top of that, two newly-ranked teams will be tested early, as Iowa faces Arkansas while Florida takes on California.
Thanks for reading! Check out BestOfDivI for a full update.
2023.05.30 18:41 RaniTheUnique Pizza by me!
 | RECIPE: submitted by RaniTheUnique to IndianFoodPhotos [link] [comments] So, the pizza base was store bought. Then, I sauted the following as mentioned in the 3rd slide. Added butter to both sides of the pizza base and cut it in half, and added mozzarella pizza inside. Then, on the top, added pizza sauce homemade + ketchup. Added mozzarella again. Then, I added sauted vegetables + more mozzarella. Then, I added the chicken and mushrooms. Mozzarella and cheddar goes on top. Added oregano and chilly flakes. Baked on homemade stove: Added a lot of salt in an iron kadai (utensil to cook), then pit on the place and cover for 10 mins. Ready! 💕 |
2023.05.30 18:37 TimelyMushroom5369 [FS][USA] SWEATERS: F0G ESSENT1ALS GRAY BLANK, C4V 3MPT QUARTER ZIP, 4CNE STUD1OS FACE LOGO, N1KE VINTAGE STYLE CREAM / K1TH x RU$$ELL TSHIRT / GF SIZE SNEAKERS: RED L0BSTER D*UNK W7.5, JP4CK SH4DOW D*UNK W8, STU$$Y SP1RIDON W7.5
tagged photos and timestamp - group pic of all items
more detailed photos of clothes
more detailed photos of shoes
PAYPAL INVOICE ONLY, COMMENT BEFORE PMING. IMPORTANT INFO BELOW.
---
ITEMS (shipping not included)
SWEATERS
submitted by TimelyMushroom5369 to FashionRepsBST [link] [comments]
more detailed photos of clothes
more detailed photos of shoes
PAYPAL INVOICE ONLY, COMMENT BEFORE PMING. IMPORTANT INFO BELOW.
- !!! buyer covers paypal fees. i ship in the USA only. ALL SALES FINAL. no refunds once paid, no returns/exchanges accepted. i am not responsible for items after providing tracking.
- !!! if lowballing you will be ignored/blocked. if you do not pay after i send you an invoice you will be blocked.
- i am trying to get back what i paid. prices also consider international shipping fees/convenience.
- sorry but i can't give w2c. items were bought a long time ago so links are likely dead. feel free to ask for extra pics but i can't speak on flaws.
---
ITEMS (shipping not included)
SWEATERS
- c4v 3mpt cream/navy quarter zip L: $60. length: ~74 cm, pit to pit: ~65 cm OVERSIZED
- in inches: ~25.5W x ~29L. only tried on! awesome piece, toweled material on inside. the dark parts are def navy in person though they look close to black in the pics. navy parts are a soft fuzzy material. too big for me unfortunately
- 4cne stud1os gray fa1rview face logo sweatshirt XL: $55. length: ~72 cm, pit to pit: ~62 cm
- ~24.5W x ~28.5L. only tried on, tags still on! minimal and clean design. soft fleece on the inside
- n1ke vintage style cream sweatshirt M: $40. length: ~71cm, pit to pit: ~62cm
- ~24.5W x ~28L. only tried on! ambition batch, sold out & not currently for sale in his store
- f0g essent1als gray crewneck XL: $37. length: ~69cm, pit to pit: ~67cm could probably fit sizes smaller than XL but please check measurements
- ~26.5W x ~27L. only tried on! soft fleece inside. there is an essent1als badge on the back and sleeve embroidery. great basic
- k1th x ru$$ell athletic black tshirt L: $27. length: ~73cm, pit to pit: ~57cm
- ~22.5W x ~29L. only tried on! cool design
- red lobster dunk low M6/W7.5/eu38.5: $90. TTS (maybe a bit snug due to puffy tongue)
- only tried on! awesome looking shoes. they fit me and i wear a US men's 6 which in nike is a 7.5 in women's. comes with extra pair of white laces and 2 sets of bands
- jpack shadow dunk low M6.5/W8/eu39: $80. measurement of insole: ~25.5cm = ~10in
- only tried on! (1 insole was removed for measurements then put back) could most likely fit a W7.5-W8 depending on how tight you like them: there is a fat tongue which contributes to a tighter fit, but please refer to the insole measurement. comes with extra pair of black laces. flaw: minor spots of dirt on swooshes and throughout shoes, the shoes came this way
- stussy spiridon fossil M6/W7.5/eu38.5: $75. TTS
- only tried on! fits me and i wear a men's 6
2023.05.30 18:23 TimelyMushroom5369 [FS][USA] 4CNE STUD1OS FACE LOGO FAIRVIEW SWEATSHIRT, B3AMS J4PAN PENGUIN CARDIGAN / TSHIRTS: AD3R x K1TSUNE, J1L S4NDER
group pic w/ timestamp
more detailed photos
paypal invoice only. buyer covers paypal fees. ALL SALES ARE FINAL. no returns/exchanges. i am not responsible for the item after providing tracking. i am not picky about flaws so i can't speak on them but feel free to request more pics.
WHEN READY TO BUY, PLEASE SEND ME YOUR PAYPAL EMAIL SO I CAN WRITE AN INVOICE
---
ITEMS (shipping not included)
submitted by TimelyMushroom5369 to QualityRepsBST [link] [comments]
more detailed photos
paypal invoice only. buyer covers paypal fees. ALL SALES ARE FINAL. no returns/exchanges. i am not responsible for the item after providing tracking. i am not picky about flaws so i can't speak on them but feel free to request more pics.
WHEN READY TO BUY, PLEASE SEND ME YOUR PAYPAL EMAIL SO I CAN WRITE AN INVOICE
---
ITEMS (shipping not included)
- 4cne stud1os gray face logo fa1rview sweatshirt XL: $55. length: ~72cm, pit to pit: ~62cm
- in inches: ~24.5W x ~28.5L. only tried on, tag still on! minimal and clean design. soft fleece on the inside
- b3ams j4pan penguin cardigan L: $37. length: ~74cm, pit to pit: ~59cm
- ~23W x ~29L. only tried on! not a knit cardigan. nice basic. has pockets. tag on the bottom says b3ams surf & skate
- ad3r 3rror x k1tsune 2020 tshirt A3: $30. length: ~75cm, pit to pit: ~58cm L to XL is my guess but please check measurements
- ~23W x ~29.5L. only tried on, tag still on! cool design
- j1l s4nder logo tshirt S: $28. length: ~72cm, pit to pit: ~61cm OVERSIZED, could probs fit M/L but please check measurements
- ~24W x ~28L. only tried on, tag still on! nice basic
2023.05.30 18:16 KitPixie New 1-ish year old dog guarding me?
TLDR: new 1-ish year old intact male pit herding older chihuahua away from me. How to train out of it?
Hello all. We’ve had a sudden new addition to our household, and need some advice. My husband was out walking to return something to a neighbor this past week, and a lovely young male pit bull followed him home. We put up flyers and notified shelters and several web sites, no bites yet, so we’re considering adding him to our home. We’re calling him Alfie.
Only thing is, Alfie’s 45 pounds and about a year old (we guesstimate,) and our current 2 dogs are 8 year old 15 pound chihuahua mixes. He’s full of energy and does not know how to play gently, which is fine with one of our dogs- Snickers will tell him off with bared teeth and growling. And Alfie pretty much listens, backing off. Our other dog, Charlie, though, is pretty meek when it comes to confrontations. If Alfie tries to play, Charlie just walks away- again, totally fine, Alfie generally will leave him alone.
The problem comes in when I’m giving Charlie attention, and/or giving Alfie attention. Alfie will insert himself between us, and I can’t figure out how to correct the behavior. It’s not aggressive as far as bared teeth or growling or barking, Alfie will just herd Charlie away, weaving back and forth like you see any herding dog would, increasing the distance between Charlie and me until he’s satisfied and then comes back to me for attention.
I’m aware we’ve not introduced them well. I wasn’t home when husband found Alfie. Husband originally brought Alfie into the backyard when he found him, thinking our dogs were inside and he could shut the doggie door before they came out, but our 2 came out immediately and everyone started playing together so well that he just kind of let them be. So he’s just been integrated into our house. He’s healthy, if a bit underweight according to our vet, and intact. I don’t know if this behavior could diminish once we get him neutered or not, but I’m looking for something to do in the mean time. I’ve started some training with sit spin down, just some things to make his brain work, he’s got a crate that he’s doing great with, I’m just running up against a wall with how to train him away from herding Charlie away from me.
Sorry if any of this doesn’t make sense. I’ll try to answer any questions y’all have.
submitted by KitPixie to Dogtraining [link] [comments]
Hello all. We’ve had a sudden new addition to our household, and need some advice. My husband was out walking to return something to a neighbor this past week, and a lovely young male pit bull followed him home. We put up flyers and notified shelters and several web sites, no bites yet, so we’re considering adding him to our home. We’re calling him Alfie.
Only thing is, Alfie’s 45 pounds and about a year old (we guesstimate,) and our current 2 dogs are 8 year old 15 pound chihuahua mixes. He’s full of energy and does not know how to play gently, which is fine with one of our dogs- Snickers will tell him off with bared teeth and growling. And Alfie pretty much listens, backing off. Our other dog, Charlie, though, is pretty meek when it comes to confrontations. If Alfie tries to play, Charlie just walks away- again, totally fine, Alfie generally will leave him alone.
The problem comes in when I’m giving Charlie attention, and/or giving Alfie attention. Alfie will insert himself between us, and I can’t figure out how to correct the behavior. It’s not aggressive as far as bared teeth or growling or barking, Alfie will just herd Charlie away, weaving back and forth like you see any herding dog would, increasing the distance between Charlie and me until he’s satisfied and then comes back to me for attention.
I’m aware we’ve not introduced them well. I wasn’t home when husband found Alfie. Husband originally brought Alfie into the backyard when he found him, thinking our dogs were inside and he could shut the doggie door before they came out, but our 2 came out immediately and everyone started playing together so well that he just kind of let them be. So he’s just been integrated into our house. He’s healthy, if a bit underweight according to our vet, and intact. I don’t know if this behavior could diminish once we get him neutered or not, but I’m looking for something to do in the mean time. I’ve started some training with sit spin down, just some things to make his brain work, he’s got a crate that he’s doing great with, I’m just running up against a wall with how to train him away from herding Charlie away from me.
Sorry if any of this doesn’t make sense. I’ll try to answer any questions y’all have.
2023.05.30 17:53 SchrodingersSmilodon (Spoilers Extended) A unified theory of the Others, the Long Night, the Horn of Winter, and Bloodraven, Part 4
This is the third in a series of posts, in which I present a theory on the history of the Others. You can read part one here, part two here, and part three here.
My previous posts came with a disclaimer, which I'm going to copy-paste below:
In a certain sense, I am both a new and an old fan of ASOIAF. I read the books about ten years ago, enjoyed them, and then barely thought about them ever again after putting them down. Then, HotD got me interested in the series again, and I ended up going down the rabbit hole of fan theories, speculation about future books, details that I missed on my first reading, etc., which has been a lot of fun! But I’ve only read the series once, and it was ten years ago, so a lot of my memories are pretty fuzzy. Honestly, a lot of my knowledge comes from the wiki (although I have gone back and reread certain important chapters). All of this is to say, I am not the most knowledgeable person to be coming up with fan theories, and the fact that I’m posting this at all probably indicates a certain amount of Dunning-Kruger effect. Take everything I say here with a grain of salt, and please let me know if there’s something obvious that my ignorance has caused me to miss. Other than that, let me know what you think!
But I also need to include another disclaimer: I came up with this theory before I became aware of the idea that Bloodraven wasn't the three-eyed crow, and, as such, this theory assumes that Bloodraven is the three-eyed crow. To be honest, I'm becoming increasingly sympathetic to the idea that Bloodraven isn't the 3EC, but I'm still undecided. If Bloodraven isn't the 3EC, that will poke a few holes in this theory, but I ultimately think it wouldn't be too big of a problem. After all, the 3EC led Bran to Bloodraven, so they must share at least some goals. So, I ask that you assume for the purposes of this post that Bloodraven is the 3EC, with the understanding that, if it turns out that Bloodraven isn't the 3EC, this theory will need some minor amending. I've already been thinking about theories on that topic, so, if and when I finish such a theory, I'll post it and discuss how it modifies this theory. But that's getting ahead of ourselves. For now…
I suspect that that First Men faction was none other than the Stark Kings of Winter; this would explain why it's called the Horn of Winter in the first place. Regardless of which group of First Men was responsible, however, it's easy to see why they did it: the Horn of Winter is a powerful weapon, and any faction of First Men would have been happy to have such a weapon in their possession. So the interesting question isn't, "Why did the First Men work with the CotF to create the Horn of Winter?" The interesting question is, "Why did the CotF work with the First Men to create the Horn of Winter?" Why would the CotF give the First Men a weapon capable of destroying the Wall?
Let's take a step back and recall the role that the CotF played in the events leading up to the construction of the Wall. Their lands were invaded by the First Men, and I argued in my first post that they responded by creating the Others as a race of slave soldiers to fight the First Men. After the Pact ended the war between the CotF and the First Men, the CotF kept the Others enslaved and/or hunted down the free ones in the Lands of Always Winter. Then the Long Night came, and I argued in my second post that the Others took advantage of it by attacking the First Men, killing them en masse in order to grow their power, with the ultimate goal of attacking the CotF. Eventually, the CotF participated in the peace agreement that ended the Long Night. But it's worth remembering that the CotF only interceded in the conflict between humans and Others at the urging of the Last Hero:
You may be wondering, why didn't the CotF just destroy the Wall using the Hammer of the Waters? The problem with doing that is that the Hammer of the Waters is distinctly CotF magic, so destroying the Wall with the Hammer of the Waters would have pointed right back to the CotF. The humans and the Others would have known that the CotF were trying to provoke them back into war, and they would have naturally resisted those efforts. The way around this is to give humans access to the same magic as the Hammer of the Waters. That way, when the humans use that magic near the Wall, it will be the humans who are responsible for destroying the Wall. Helping the First Men create the Horn of Winter was therefore a way for the CotF to end the peace between humanity and the Others, all while maintaining plausible deniability. And it kind of worked; the Horn of Winter did destroy the western part of the Wall. But this didn't result in the human-Other war that the CotF wanted, because, as I argued in my previous post, the Others' queen was taken captive at the same time as the destruction of the Wall, and she's been used as a hostage to keep the peace ever since.
This raises the question, if the CotF wanted humans to defeat the Others, why didn't they help the humans during the Long Night (at least, prior to the Last Hero's involvement)? Well, once again, we need to consider the psychology of the CotF. We know the CotF are willing to fight incredibly bloody wars, as they did against the First Men, but we also know that they won't keep fighting in a hopeless circumstance simply to spite their enemy, in the way that humans will. In situations where they are faced with assured destruction, they react with sad acceptance, not defiance. The fact that the CotF didn't initially participate in the war against the Others during the Long Night indicates that they must have viewed that war as hopeless. The Others were sweeping south, massacring humans, converting their boys into more Others and raising the rest as wights, constantly growing stronger; the CotF must have concluded that there was nothing they could do, no way to survive the Long Night. They didn't just roll over and die, but they weren't about to fight the Others when they had no chance of success. The CotF most likely hid, guarding themselves with magic, waiting to die a slow death—just like they're doing today.
Fortunately for the CotF, the Long Night did not end in their extinction. As I argued in my second post, Azor Ahai negotiated a peace treaty that ended the Long Night. But, as part of that peace treaty, the Others received a queen, the first female member of their species (whom I've been referring to as the Night's Queen). This allowed the Others to reproduce sexually, as opposed to their earlier method of kidnapping human children, and as a result the Others' population would have begun increasing dramatically following the Long Night. So, on the one hand, the Others were no longer benefitting from the Long Night, meaning they were more vulnerable than they had been prior to the peace treaty. But, at the same time, the Others were growing more powerful, as their population rose. For the first time since the Long Night began, the CotF could now hope for victory in a war with them and the humans on one side and the Others on the other side, but they had a very narrow window in which to act, before the Others became too powerful. That's why they only began making moves against the Others after the Long Night; during the Long Night the Others were too strong to be realistically opposed, and before the Long Night the Others weren't seen as a significant threat. Once the Long Night ended, however, the CotF got to work, by helping to make the Horn of Winter and by providing the Night's Watch with obsidian.
But, while the CotF might have successfully averted the risk posed by the Others, they failed to do the same with the humans. Leaf, and presumably the other CotF, fully recognize that humanity's expansion is going to drive them extinct. This has massive implications for the CotF's goals and motivations. The fact that the CotF are aware of and resigned to their inevitable extinction means that self-preservation is no longer a concern for them. They might have been motivated by self-preservation following the end of the Long Night, but not anymore. Whatever the CotF are doing nowadays, they're doing it because there's something they want to accomplish before they vanish as a species. And I do think that the CotF are trying to accomplish something, partly because characters that don't want anything are boring, and partly because Bloodraven is clearly up to something, and the CotF are supporting him. So, if they're not motivated by self-preservation, what are the CotF trying to do?
A common idea I've heard is that Bloodraven and the CotF want to prevent the Others from destroying the world in a second Long Night. I think there's an element of truth to this (especially considering the lengths the CotF have already gone to to oppose the Others), but I don't think it's the whole story. Consider this: if the CotF want to prevent the Others from conquering Westeros, but they're not motivated by self-preservation, then they must be motivated by some combination of altruism and guilt. They created the Others, then the Others got out of hand, to the point where they threatened all of Westeros, and now the CotF feel responsible for making sure they don't do that again. That's reasonable, even noble, but it can't be limited to merely defeating the Others in this latest confrontation. If all that comes of this current conflict with the Others is that the Others are prevented from conquering Westeros, then who's to say that the Others won't try to conquer Westeros a third time in another 8,000 years? And by the time that happens, the CotF will be extinct, so they won't be around to help with that conflict. Simply defeating the Others and thwarting their plans would be a temporary solution to a permanent problem, and, with the CotF facing their own extinction, they would see now as a time for permanent solutions. And when the problem in question is the existence of the Others, there can be only one solution: The CotF want to wipe out the Others completely. I suspect they wanted this ever since the Long Night; they probably see it as cleaning up after their mess. Now, with their extinction looming, that plan to genocide the Others has been made a priority.
I know that my logic has involved jumping around in time a lot, so, as a summary, let me present this handy timeline of the CotF's thoughts on the Others:
To grossly oversimplify a complex series of events, Winterfell's vulnerability can be traced back to two events:
More significantly, Bloodraven removed Bran's memory of Jaime pushing him from the tower:
Later, when Theon takes Winterfell, he wakes up suddenly in the middle of the night, and he gets the feeling that someone was responsible for waking him:
Of course, putting Winterfell in a vulnerable position only matters if the Others know about that vulnerability. Bloodraven must have some communication with the Others. I'm not sure what this communication looks like; if the Others can dream, then it might just mean sending them green dreams prophesying Winterfell's coming vulnerability. Alternatively, Bloodraven might be communicating with them directly by skinchanging into a raven. Maybe he's posing as a human traitor, willing to sell out the humans and the CotF, a kind of second Night's King? This is definitely the biggest missing piece in my theory, but I don't think it's too outlandish to posit Bloodraven has some means of getting information to the Others, and that he's thereby clued the Others in on Winterfell's coming vulnerability.
Given his undying Targaryen loyalty, Bloodraven must be psyched about the coming war between the humans and the Others. Daenerys is coming with three dragons, which will be humanity's best hope for defeating the Others; Westeros will naturally rally behind Daenerys, solidifying her rule. Moreover, dragons will be seen as the saviors of Westeros, rather than as dangerous weapons. If Marwyn was right that the maesters killed the dragons, then this would prevent a similar conspiracy from arising and driving the dragons back into extinction, since the dragons would now be seen as necessary for Westeros's security against the forces of evil. So while Bloodraven wants to provoke a war between humans and Others, just like the CotF do, he wants this for a different reason than they do; Bloodraven wants to use the Others to bring about a lasting Targaryen restoration.
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My previous posts came with a disclaimer, which I'm going to copy-paste below:
In a certain sense, I am both a new and an old fan of ASOIAF. I read the books about ten years ago, enjoyed them, and then barely thought about them ever again after putting them down. Then, HotD got me interested in the series again, and I ended up going down the rabbit hole of fan theories, speculation about future books, details that I missed on my first reading, etc., which has been a lot of fun! But I’ve only read the series once, and it was ten years ago, so a lot of my memories are pretty fuzzy. Honestly, a lot of my knowledge comes from the wiki (although I have gone back and reread certain important chapters). All of this is to say, I am not the most knowledgeable person to be coming up with fan theories, and the fact that I’m posting this at all probably indicates a certain amount of Dunning-Kruger effect. Take everything I say here with a grain of salt, and please let me know if there’s something obvious that my ignorance has caused me to miss. Other than that, let me know what you think!
But I also need to include another disclaimer: I came up with this theory before I became aware of the idea that Bloodraven wasn't the three-eyed crow, and, as such, this theory assumes that Bloodraven is the three-eyed crow. To be honest, I'm becoming increasingly sympathetic to the idea that Bloodraven isn't the 3EC, but I'm still undecided. If Bloodraven isn't the 3EC, that will poke a few holes in this theory, but I ultimately think it wouldn't be too big of a problem. After all, the 3EC led Bran to Bloodraven, so they must share at least some goals. So, I ask that you assume for the purposes of this post that Bloodraven is the 3EC, with the understanding that, if it turns out that Bloodraven isn't the 3EC, this theory will need some minor amending. I've already been thinking about theories on that topic, so, if and when I finish such a theory, I'll post it and discuss how it modifies this theory. But that's getting ahead of ourselves. For now…
Part 4: Bloodraven
Making First Men horny
One of the most powerful pieces of magic we're told of in ASOIAF is the Hammer of the Waters. This is a spell that causes powerful earthquakes, capable of radically reshaping the geography where it's used. The Children of the Forest are said to have used the Hammer of the Waters on at least two occasions: once to flood the Neck, and once to break the Arm of Dorne. I argued in my previous post that the Horn of Winter contains the same magic as the Hammer of the Waters, and that when Joramun blew the Horn of Winter the resulting earthquake destroyed the western section of the Wall and created the Gorge. However, while the Horn of Winter replicates the magic of the Hammer of the Waters, that doesn't mean the Horn of Winter was the original Hammer of the Waters; that is to say, I don't think that the Horn of Winter was used to flood the Neck or break the Arm of Dorne. There are a few reasons why the Horn probably wasn't responsible for these historical events:- The Horn of Winter is probably the same horn that's currently in Sam's possession (link to a series of posts that analyzes the Horn of Winter and lays out this argument), and that horn is banded in bronze. The CotF didn't work with bronze.
- TWOIAF described how the CotF brought about the Hammer of the Waters, and it had nothing to do with sounding a horn. Supposedly, it was your standard blood sacrifice deal: kill a bunch of people, and in exchange a powerful magical effect will occur. While the Horn of Winter might kill the person who blew it (in the same way Dragonbinder does), we have no reason to believe it requires a mass sacrifice.
- Creating the Gorge, while no mean feat, is much less impressive than breaking the Arm of Dorne or flooding the Neck. The Horn of Winter appears to be a weaker version of the Hammer of the Waters.
I suspect that that First Men faction was none other than the Stark Kings of Winter; this would explain why it's called the Horn of Winter in the first place. Regardless of which group of First Men was responsible, however, it's easy to see why they did it: the Horn of Winter is a powerful weapon, and any faction of First Men would have been happy to have such a weapon in their possession. So the interesting question isn't, "Why did the First Men work with the CotF to create the Horn of Winter?" The interesting question is, "Why did the CotF work with the First Men to create the Horn of Winter?" Why would the CotF give the First Men a weapon capable of destroying the Wall?
Let's take a step back and recall the role that the CotF played in the events leading up to the construction of the Wall. Their lands were invaded by the First Men, and I argued in my first post that they responded by creating the Others as a race of slave soldiers to fight the First Men. After the Pact ended the war between the CotF and the First Men, the CotF kept the Others enslaved and/or hunted down the free ones in the Lands of Always Winter. Then the Long Night came, and I argued in my second post that the Others took advantage of it by attacking the First Men, killing them en masse in order to grow their power, with the ultimate goal of attacking the CotF. Eventually, the CotF participated in the peace agreement that ended the Long Night. But it's worth remembering that the CotF only interceded in the conflict between humans and Others at the urging of the Last Hero:
"Now these were the days before the Andals came, and long before the women fled across the narrow sea from the cities of the Rhoyne, and the hundred kingdoms of those times were the kingdoms of the First Men, who had taken these lands from the children of the forest. Yet here and there in the fastness of the woods the children still lived in their wooden cities and hollow hills, and the faces in the trees kept watch. So as cold and death filled the earth, the last hero determined to seek out the children, in the hopes that their ancient magics could win back what the armies of men had lost." (AGOT, Bran IV)Prior to the Last Hero, the CotF seem to have been content to sit back and watch the humans and the Others kill each other—which, considering the history of those three species, is understandable. (According to Sam, the CotF did at one point give obsidian daggers to the Night's Watch, so the CotF did get involved in the conflict between the humans and the Others eventually, but this probably didn't happen until after the Last Hero made contact with them. Old Nan says that the Last Hero had to go on a quest of some difficulty to make contact with the CotF; presumably, this wouldn't have been necessary if the CotF were already giving obsidian daggers to the Night's Watch, because then the Last Hero could have just gone to the Night's Watch and gotten in contact with the CotF that way. So, for most if not all of the Long Night, the CotF did not provide humans with obsidian weapons, meaning that they truly were uninvolved in the conflict between the two species.) I argued in my second post that the peace agreement between the First Men and the Others was an essential part of ending the Long Night, and that this was facilitated by the Last Hero/Azor Ahai. The CotF's absence in the conflict between the humans and the Others prior to the Last Hero's involvement suggests that the CotF had no desire to see the humans and the Others make peace. They only facilitated a peace agreement because it was necessary in order to end the Long Night. The Long Night was an existential threat to the CotF, both because the forests can't survive in an eternal night and because the Others might eventually become powerful enough to threaten the CotF. So the CotF needed to end the Long Night, and ending the Long Night necessitated a peace agreement between humans and Others. It's very easy to imagine that the Last Hero's pitch to the CotF went something like, "Look, I know there's no love lost between you and humanity, and certainly none between you and the Others. But the Long Night isn't going to end unless all three species work together, and the Long Night will kill you guys, just as it will kill humanity. For your own sake, work with us to end this." Clearly, this argument was persuasive. But, once the Long Night ended, the CotF no longer had any reason to care about peace between the humans and the Others—a peace that only existed thanks to the Wall, which was partially destroyed by the Horn of Winter, which the CotF helped to create. The logical conclusion is that the CotF made the Horn of Winter in order to destroy the Wall and renew the war between the humans and the Others. The CotF weren't unconcerned observers to the human-Other war; they actively wanted the two species to fight.
You may be wondering, why didn't the CotF just destroy the Wall using the Hammer of the Waters? The problem with doing that is that the Hammer of the Waters is distinctly CotF magic, so destroying the Wall with the Hammer of the Waters would have pointed right back to the CotF. The humans and the Others would have known that the CotF were trying to provoke them back into war, and they would have naturally resisted those efforts. The way around this is to give humans access to the same magic as the Hammer of the Waters. That way, when the humans use that magic near the Wall, it will be the humans who are responsible for destroying the Wall. Helping the First Men create the Horn of Winter was therefore a way for the CotF to end the peace between humanity and the Others, all while maintaining plausible deniability. And it kind of worked; the Horn of Winter did destroy the western part of the Wall. But this didn't result in the human-Other war that the CotF wanted, because, as I argued in my previous post, the Others' queen was taken captive at the same time as the destruction of the Wall, and she's been used as a hostage to keep the peace ever since.
Child psychology
I've argued that the CotF wanted the humans and Others to fight, but I haven't explained why they'd want that. The easy answer is that the CotF have grievances with both the humans and the Others, so they wanted bloodshed between the two. But we shouldn't accept that easy answer too readily. If we're going to understand what the CotF want, we're going to have to get inside their heads. The books tell us about at least one way in which CotF psychology differs from human psychology:"That was in the dawn of days, when our sun was rising. Now it sinks, and this is our long dwindling. The giants are almost gone as well, they who were our bane and our brothers. The great lions of the western hills have been slain, the unicorns are all but gone, the mammoths down to a few hundred. The direwolves will outlast us all, but their time will come as well. In the world that men have made, there is no room for them, or us."So we're told that vengeance and spite aren't really a thing for the CotF, or at least not in the way that they are for humans. I've heard some people suggest that Leaf might be lying here, and that the CotF actually do want vengeance, but I don't think so, for a couple of reasons. First, and this is purely personal preference, I think it's a lot more interesting if the CotF don't think in the same way that humans do. If you're going to have multiple sentient species in your story, and they all think and behave in the same way, then it kind of defeats the purpose of having multiple species in the first place, doesn't it? If the CotF think and act just like humans do, I would personally find that boring. Secondly, and more importantly, we know that the CotF employ at least one human, Bloodraven, as a greenseer. This is a position of importance and confidence in CotF society, and it gives Bloodraven access to immense information. If the CotF were really planning on taking vengeance on humanity, then it's unlikely that they would be able to hide that information from Bloodraven (and any other human greenseers the CotF had; we don't know if Bloodraven was the only one), and it's unlikely that Bloodraven would help the CotF destroy or harm his own species. So the fact that the CotF rely on Bloodraven (and possibly other human greenseers in the past) suggests that the CotF genuinely don't wish any ill will on humanity, just as Leaf said. And if the CotF don't wish any ill will on humanity today, then they also probably didn't wish any ill will on humanity at the time they made the Horn of Winter—that was back when humans still held to the Pact, so the CotF would have had fewer grievances back then than they do today. So, if the CotF wanted to cause a war between the humans and the Others, and their goal wasn't to cause any long-term harm to humanity as a species, then their intent must have been to harm, weaken, or exterminate the Others. The CotF wanted the humans and the Others to go back to war, and they wanted humans to win. This explains why the CotF used to gift obsidian daggers to the Night's Watch.
She seemed sad when she said it, and that made Bran sad as well. It was only later that he thought, Men would not be sad. Men would be wroth. Men would hate and swear a bloody vengeance. The singers sing sad songs, where men would fight and kill. (ADWD, Bran III)
This raises the question, if the CotF wanted humans to defeat the Others, why didn't they help the humans during the Long Night (at least, prior to the Last Hero's involvement)? Well, once again, we need to consider the psychology of the CotF. We know the CotF are willing to fight incredibly bloody wars, as they did against the First Men, but we also know that they won't keep fighting in a hopeless circumstance simply to spite their enemy, in the way that humans will. In situations where they are faced with assured destruction, they react with sad acceptance, not defiance. The fact that the CotF didn't initially participate in the war against the Others during the Long Night indicates that they must have viewed that war as hopeless. The Others were sweeping south, massacring humans, converting their boys into more Others and raising the rest as wights, constantly growing stronger; the CotF must have concluded that there was nothing they could do, no way to survive the Long Night. They didn't just roll over and die, but they weren't about to fight the Others when they had no chance of success. The CotF most likely hid, guarding themselves with magic, waiting to die a slow death—just like they're doing today.
Fortunately for the CotF, the Long Night did not end in their extinction. As I argued in my second post, Azor Ahai negotiated a peace treaty that ended the Long Night. But, as part of that peace treaty, the Others received a queen, the first female member of their species (whom I've been referring to as the Night's Queen). This allowed the Others to reproduce sexually, as opposed to their earlier method of kidnapping human children, and as a result the Others' population would have begun increasing dramatically following the Long Night. So, on the one hand, the Others were no longer benefitting from the Long Night, meaning they were more vulnerable than they had been prior to the peace treaty. But, at the same time, the Others were growing more powerful, as their population rose. For the first time since the Long Night began, the CotF could now hope for victory in a war with them and the humans on one side and the Others on the other side, but they had a very narrow window in which to act, before the Others became too powerful. That's why they only began making moves against the Others after the Long Night; during the Long Night the Others were too strong to be realistically opposed, and before the Long Night the Others weren't seen as a significant threat. Once the Long Night ended, however, the CotF got to work, by helping to make the Horn of Winter and by providing the Night's Watch with obsidian.
Things change
The above description probably makes it seem like the CotF were motivated to provoke a new war against the Others out of self-preservation, and there may well be some truth in that. The Others, with their new queen, were a rising power, and they still probably harbored a vendetta against the CotF. If the new war against the Others resulted in the Others' extinction, that would obviously guarantee the CotF's safety from them; if the war resulted in the Night's Queen being killed or captured (which I argued is what happened), that would remove the Others' status as a rising power. So, if the CotF were acting out of self-preservation, their plan seems to have been both well motivated and reasonably successful.But, while the CotF might have successfully averted the risk posed by the Others, they failed to do the same with the humans. Leaf, and presumably the other CotF, fully recognize that humanity's expansion is going to drive them extinct. This has massive implications for the CotF's goals and motivations. The fact that the CotF are aware of and resigned to their inevitable extinction means that self-preservation is no longer a concern for them. They might have been motivated by self-preservation following the end of the Long Night, but not anymore. Whatever the CotF are doing nowadays, they're doing it because there's something they want to accomplish before they vanish as a species. And I do think that the CotF are trying to accomplish something, partly because characters that don't want anything are boring, and partly because Bloodraven is clearly up to something, and the CotF are supporting him. So, if they're not motivated by self-preservation, what are the CotF trying to do?
A common idea I've heard is that Bloodraven and the CotF want to prevent the Others from destroying the world in a second Long Night. I think there's an element of truth to this (especially considering the lengths the CotF have already gone to to oppose the Others), but I don't think it's the whole story. Consider this: if the CotF want to prevent the Others from conquering Westeros, but they're not motivated by self-preservation, then they must be motivated by some combination of altruism and guilt. They created the Others, then the Others got out of hand, to the point where they threatened all of Westeros, and now the CotF feel responsible for making sure they don't do that again. That's reasonable, even noble, but it can't be limited to merely defeating the Others in this latest confrontation. If all that comes of this current conflict with the Others is that the Others are prevented from conquering Westeros, then who's to say that the Others won't try to conquer Westeros a third time in another 8,000 years? And by the time that happens, the CotF will be extinct, so they won't be around to help with that conflict. Simply defeating the Others and thwarting their plans would be a temporary solution to a permanent problem, and, with the CotF facing their own extinction, they would see now as a time for permanent solutions. And when the problem in question is the existence of the Others, there can be only one solution: The CotF want to wipe out the Others completely. I suspect they wanted this ever since the Long Night; they probably see it as cleaning up after their mess. Now, with their extinction looming, that plan to genocide the Others has been made a priority.
I know that my logic has involved jumping around in time a lot, so, as a summary, let me present this handy timeline of the CotF's thoughts on the Others:
- During the war between the CotF and the First Men: "We need the Others to win this war."
- After the Pact was forged: Either "We may not be at war anymore, but we need to keep the Others as our slave soldiers, just in case the humans break the Pact," or "We don't need the Others anymore now that we have the Pact. I'm sure the handful of free Others in the Lands of Always Winter won't be a problem."
- During the Long Night: "The Others are going to drive both us and the First Men to extinction, but there's nothing we can do about it. This sucks."
- After the Long Night: "The Others are vulnerable, but they won't be for long. They're a danger to both us and the humans, and they're our fault. We need to act fast to destroy them, while we still can. That means we need to get the humans and the Others to start fighting again, and then we can help the humans win that war."
- After the Night's Queen was taken prisoner: "This isn't ideal, but the Others are no longer a rising power without their queen, so we can leave well enough alone."
- After it became clear that the CotF were going extinct: "The Others are unable to act against the humans for now, but there's no guarantee that that will last, and we won't be around to oppose the Others forever. We need to genocide the Others, while we're still around to do so."
"Two hundred years?" said Meera.It has often been observed that the Others, as an existential threat that can only be dealt with if humanity puts away its petty political squabbles, serve as a metaphor for climate change. In this metaphor, the CotF are the older generations that caused climate change in the first place and now are dying off for unrelated reasons. The CotF's behavior can then be seen as an aspirational model for how older generations should behave with regards climate change. Rather than saying, "Fuck it, I'll be dead, so it's not my problem," they ought to say, "I'm partly responsible for this, so I need to fix it, and the fact that I won't be around that much longer only means I need to work harder to fix it while I still can." Sadly, the CotF only behave the way they do because of their inhuman psychology, which points to the fact that it was never realistic to hope that older generations would behave this way in real life. I doubt this theme is intentional; Martin seems to have originally not seen the Others as a climate change metaphor, although he's since come around to the idea. Still, I think it's a neat connection.
The child smiled. “Men, they are the children.” (ADWD, Bran II)
It was Bloodraven all along
If the CotF really want to wipe out the Others, then the current situation at Winterfell must seem perfect for them. I argued in my last post that the events of the series have left Winterfell vulnerable, and the Others are now planning a rescue mission to extract their queen from the Winterfell crypts. With their queen no longer held captive, there will be nothing preventing war between humans and Others (and, after the humans kept the Night's Queen imprisoned for thousands of years, the Others will definitely have cause for war), and this war will happen while the CotF are still around to support the humans. Better still, humanity has dragons again, which will surely be useful against the Others. Everything seems to be going swimmingly for the CotF's plan to provoke a war of extermination against the Others, which raises an obvious question: did the CotF cause the current situation?To grossly oversimplify a complex series of events, Winterfell's vulnerability can be traced back to two events:
- Ned going to King's Landing, and subsequently getting beheaded. This caused all of the Starks except for Bran and Rickon to leave Winterfell, and it caused the Northern army to march south, leaving Winterfell vulnerable to…
- Theon capturing Winterfell, and subsequently losing it to Ramsay. This physically damaged Winterfell, it caused Bran and Rickon to leave, and it meant that Winterfell was now under Bolton control, which put it at the center of both Stannis's war and the various Northern intrigues.
More significantly, Bloodraven removed Bran's memory of Jaime pushing him from the tower:
Bran was staring at his arms, his legs. He was so skinny, just skin stretched taut over bones. Had he always been so thin? He tried to remember. A face swam up at him out of the grey mist, shining with light, golden. "The things I do for love," it said.If Bran had kept that memory, then he presumably would have woken up and told someone, "Jaime Lannister pushed me out of the tower, after I saw him wrestling naked with Queen Cersei." How exactly this would have changed the events of the book is a matter of fanfic, but, with eye-witness evidence of Jaime and Cersei committing incest and attempted murder, it's very easy to see things going poorly for the Lannisters. Even Cersei recognized how difficult of a situation that would have been to navigate:
Bran screamed.
The crow took to the air, cawing. Not that, it shrieked at him. Forget that, you do not need it now, put it aside, put it away. It landed on Bran’s shoulder, and pecked at him, and the shining golden face was gone. (AGOT, Bran III)
If truth be told, Jaime had come to rue heaving Brandon Stark out that window. Cersei had given him no end of grief afterward, when the boy refused to die. "He was seven, Jaime," she’d berated him. "Even if he understood what he saw, we should have been able to frighten him into silence."Had Bran kept his memory of Jaime pushing him out of the window, then it likely would have been Cersei and Jaime's downfall, and that means Ned wouldn't have lost his head.
"I didn’t think you’d want—"
"You never think. If the boy should wake and tell his father what he saw—"
"If if if." He had pulled her into his lap. “If he wakes we’ll say he was dreaming, we’ll call him a liar, and should worse come to worst I’ll kill Ned Stark."
"And then what do you imagine Robert will do?" (ASOS, Jaime I)
Later, when Theon takes Winterfell, he wakes up suddenly in the middle of the night, and he gets the feeling that someone was responsible for waking him:
One moment he was asleep; the next, awake.This was the chapter where Bran and company "escape," and Theon's primary emotions throughout the chapter are anxiety and desperation. Those feelings build over the course of the day, as Theon tries and fails to find Bran and Rickon, eventually consuming him to the point where he does something stupid.
Kyra nestled against him, one arm draped lightly over his, her breasts brushing his back. He could hear her breathing, soft and steady. The sheet was tangled about them. It was the black of night. The bedchamber was dark and still.
What is it? Did I hear something? Someone?
Wind sighed faintly against the shutters. Somewhere, far off, he heard the yowl of a cat in heat. Nothing else. Sleep, Greyjoy, he told himself. The castle is quiet, and you have guards posted. At your door, at the gates, on the armory.
He might have put it down to a bad dream, but he did not remember dreaming. (ACOK, Theon IV)
"Joseth has the right of it," said Maester Luwin. "Groping through the woods by torchlight will avail us nothing."Theon woke up in the middle of the night with a sense that something was off, and then he had plenty of time to stew in his anxiety. Were it not for that, he might not have descended to the point where killing the miller's boys seemed like a good idea. Therefore, the hint that someone was responsible for waking him up is interesting; maybe Bloodraven used his psychic tree powers to wake Theon? The passage mentions the "sigh" of wind—a notably anthropomorphic phrasing—and we know that, when Bran tried to communicate with Ned in the past, it sounded like wind to him; maybe Bloodraven can do something similar, sans time travel? There's nothing explicitly pointing to Bloodraven, but there is evidence that he's messing with Theon's emotions in his next chapter:
Theon could taste bile at the back of his throat, and his stomach was a nest of snakes twining and snapping at each other. If he crept back to Winterfell empty-handed, he might as well dress in motley henceforth and wear a pointed hat; the whole north would know him for a fool. And when my father hears, and Asha …
"M’lord prince." Reek urged his horse near. (ACOK, Theon IV)
The sky was a gloom of cloud, the woods dead and frozen. Roots grabbed at Theon’s feet as he ran, and bare branches lashed his face, leaving thin stripes of blood across his cheeks. He crashed through heedless, breathless, icicles flying to pieces before him. Mercy, he sobbed. From behind came a shuddering howl that curdled his blood. Mercy, mercy. When he glanced back over his shoulder he saw them coming, great wolves the size of horses with the heads of small children. Oh, mercy, mercy. Blood dripped from their mouths black as pitch, burning holes in the snow where it fell. Every stride brought them closer. Theon tried to run faster, but his legs would not obey. The trees all had faces, and they were laughing at him, laughing, and the howl came again. He could smell the hot breath of the beasts behind him, a stink of brimstone and corruption. They’re dead, dead, I saw them killed, he tried to shout, I saw their heads dipped in tar, but when he opened his mouth only a moan emerged, and then something touched him and he whirled, shouting … (ACOK, Theon V)Theon feels guilty for faking Bran and Rickon's death, and he's afraid for his future; that guilt and fear would have existed in him no matter what, but these dreams amplify those feelings, and the presence of weirwood trees suggests that Bloodraven is actively sending them to Theon. After all, none of Theon's experiences have involved a weirwood in any significant capacity, so this wasn't a native element of his dream, and Bran often has dreams about a weirwood that are implied to be sent by Bloodraven. Theon's fear and his attempts to rationalize his guilt drive him to cling desperately to his power and authority:
"Your prize will be the doom of you. Krakens rise from the sea, Theon, or did you forget that during your years among the wolves? Our strength is in our longships. My wooden pisspot sits close enough to the sea for supplies and fresh men to reach me whenever they are needful. But Winterfell is hundreds of leagues inland, ringed by woods, hills, and hostile holdfasts and castles. And every man in a thousand leagues is your enemy now, make no mistake. You made certain of that when you mounted those heads on your gatehouse." Asha shook her head. "How could you be such a bloody fool? Children …"All of this causes Theon to reject Asha's offer to leave Winterfell for Deepwood Motte, which results in Ramsay sacking Winterfell. So, to summarize, Bloodraven provided the Lannisters with advantages so that they would triumph in their intrigues against Ned, and he psychologically manipulated Theon so that he would lose Winterfell to Ramsay. Bloodraven has actively worked to create the circumstances that have left Winterfell vulnerable, so that the Others will be able to rescue their queen and begin a new war against the humans. I don't want to fall into the trap of claiming that Bloodraven was responsible for everything; I think that most events in the story happened without his direct interference. But, thanks to his greensight giving him glimpses of the future, Bloodraven has found a few places where just a small nudge can result in things going the way he wants them to.
"They defied me!" he shouted in her face. "And it was blood for blood besides, two sons of Eddard Stark to pay for Rodrik and Maron." The words tumbled out heedlessly, but Theon knew at once that his father would approve. "I’ve laid my brothers’ ghosts to rest." (ACOK, Theon V)
Of course, putting Winterfell in a vulnerable position only matters if the Others know about that vulnerability. Bloodraven must have some communication with the Others. I'm not sure what this communication looks like; if the Others can dream, then it might just mean sending them green dreams prophesying Winterfell's coming vulnerability. Alternatively, Bloodraven might be communicating with them directly by skinchanging into a raven. Maybe he's posing as a human traitor, willing to sell out the humans and the CotF, a kind of second Night's King? This is definitely the biggest missing piece in my theory, but I don't think it's too outlandish to posit Bloodraven has some means of getting information to the Others, and that he's thereby clued the Others in on Winterfell's coming vulnerability.
A politically useful apocalypse
I've talked a lot about the CotF's motivations, but not at all about Bloodraven's, so let's do that now. I'd recommend you read this excellent series of posts on Bloodraven, which I'll be drawing from heavily. Prior to becoming the Last Greenseer, Bloodraven was primarily occupied with the Blackfyres. He played a crucial role in ending the First Blackfyre Rebellion, including but not limited to killing Daemon Blackfyre and his eldest two sons, and since then he went to every effort to foil future Blackfyre attempts to claim the Iron Throne. Some people have speculated that Bloodraven did so out of duty and a desire to keep the realm stable, but this doesn't hold up. Following Maekar I's death, a Great Council was held to determine the succession, and Bloodraven invited and then immediately killed Aenys Blackfyre. Bloodraven later claimed that this was for the good of the realm, but… how? If the Great Council had selected Aenys as the next king, the crown would have passed to him just as peacefully and rightfully as it ended up passing to Aegon V. If Bloodraven was truly motivated by duty and a desire for peace, he would have had no reason to kill Aenys. The only explanation for Bloodraven's actions is that he genuinely did not want a Blackfyre to take the throne, no matter the circumstances surrounding their accession. In fact, his anti-Blackfyre obsession was so intense that he ignored the devastation caused by Dagon Greyjoy, because addressing it would leave the throne vulnerable to the Blackfyres:"Myself, I blame Bloodraven," Ser Kyle went on. "He is the King's Hand, yet he does nothing, whilst the krakens spread flame and terror up and down the sunset sea."It's important to note that Maynard Plumm was probably a glamored Bloodraven, so this isn't mere speculation; this is Bloodraven telling us his motivation. By all accounts, Bloodraven's tenure as Hand was an awful time for Westeros, where law and order broke down and few people respected the king. The point is, Bloodraven was not a noble man fighting against a beloved brother because it was the right thing to do. Bloodraven was a Targaryen uber-loyalist, who would gladly see the realm burn, so long as a Targaryen remained on the throne. And he appears to have retained that loyalty, decades later. Bloodraven is likely in control of Mormont's raven (see the series of posts I linked earlier), and in raven form Bloodraven hints fairly clearly about wanting Jon to be king:
Ser Maynard gave a shrug. "His eye is fixed on Tyrosh, where Bittersteel sits in exile, plotting with the sons of Daemon Blackfyre. So he keeps the king's ships close at hand, lest they attempt to cross." (The Mystery Knight)
"Aemon knew, and rightly, that if he remained at court those who disliked his brother’s rule would seek to use him, so he came to the Wall. And here he has remained, while his brother and his brother’s son and his son each reigned and died in turn, until Jaime Lannister put an end to the line of the Dragonkings."Something similar happens in ADWD, but what's interesting about this instance of the raven calling Jon king is that it happens immediately after Mormont claims that the Targaryen line has ended. This suggests that this is more than just a prophetic statement of fact; this is a profession of loyalty. Jon is the rightful Targaryen king, and he has Bloodraven's support.
"King," croaked the raven. The bird appeared across the solar to land on Mormont’s shoulder. "King," it said again, strutting back and forth. (ACOK, Jon I)
Given his undying Targaryen loyalty, Bloodraven must be psyched about the coming war between the humans and the Others. Daenerys is coming with three dragons, which will be humanity's best hope for defeating the Others; Westeros will naturally rally behind Daenerys, solidifying her rule. Moreover, dragons will be seen as the saviors of Westeros, rather than as dangerous weapons. If Marwyn was right that the maesters killed the dragons, then this would prevent a similar conspiracy from arising and driving the dragons back into extinction, since the dragons would now be seen as necessary for Westeros's security against the forces of evil. So while Bloodraven wants to provoke a war between humans and Others, just like the CotF do, he wants this for a different reason than they do; Bloodraven wants to use the Others to bring about a lasting Targaryen restoration.
Continued in comments
2023.05.30 17:11 AdventureMaterials The Third Son - Pt 2 - A D&D-Themed Ironsworn Actual Play
This is part two of my Ironsworn campaign experiment meant to emulator an “Old School” D&D like experience–a party of vulnerable allies, location-based adventures, and strange monsters lurking just on the outskirts of human civilization.
In the last episode, the party gained a quest to figure out why the fishing has dried up for the town of Longhill, and they have followed what clues they could find into the woods east of town.
The Party: Sir Gethin Oyvind E-1 H-2 I-3 S-1 W-2 Health: 5, Spirit: 5, Supply: 5, Momentum: 8/2. Assets: Commander (strength 4), Ironclad (light armor), Empowered (Knight Errant). Equipment: chain armor, sword, shield, crossbow, horse Vows: Become worthy of the Oyvind family name (epic): 0.0, bring back the fishing (dangerous): 2.0
Bonds:
Cautious after their near-encounter with the strange crab-mosquito, the party moves forward with as much stealth as five people, a horse, and a donkey can muster.
Delve the Depths (Shadow): [Delve the Depths: Mark progress.]. [Mark Progress: Haunted Forest :9 boxes]. What do they find? Clearing (complex/refuge).
They eventually find a game trail and make faster progress. It winds through the wood until emerging in a large clearing that holds a walled camp. The walls are made of ~8 foot high poles and enclose an area about 80 feet across. A light gate stands open on one side.
Because I had no encounter, I’m going to rule that this is unoccupied. Since my supply is full, I won’t need to resupply but I may make camp.
Gethin sends Somhaile and Inguna in to investigate. They creep up to the walls, peer carefully around the open gate, and eventually disappear inside. A few moments later, they come back out waving and reporting that the camp appears to have been abandoned.
Are there supplies inside still (50%)? No, and…
The interior is entirely bare. Few signs of the prior occupants remain. Still, it’s a defensible spot and Gethin orders the party to set up camp for the night.
Make Camp: [Strong Hit: 4 + 5 + 0 = 9 vs 7 1]. +1m (now 9) and +1 next move.
The night passes easily, and the party sleeps well knowing that they have walls around them. Even the watches are uneventful. They rise early and break camp just after sunup.
[Progress Roll: Haunted Forest :Strong Hit = 9 vs 7 7]. +1 to next move (now +2).
[Mark Progress: Bring back the fishing :4 boxes]
The road passes beyond the forest and emerges onto the shore of a small lake.
Is the smell of death worse here (75%)? Yes, but…
The smell of death worsens as they leave the woods, but they still cannot see any sign of what may be causing it. There are no fish decomposing on the lake’s shoreline, and they see nothing floating atop the water. Still, they are confident that they are growing closer to their goal.
With nowhere to go but further upriver, Gethin dispatches the two scouts to see what they can find.
Gather Information: [Weak Hit: 5 + 2 + 2 = 9 vs 9 2]. +1m (now 1). What do they find? Blighted/Thicket.
It is very late before they come back. When they do, they look wary of what they have to report. A thicket ahead, near the great eastern forest–but the trees there are dead, and not by fire. The grass, too, is yellowed and crunches underfoot. They dared not go further by themselves, for they heard strange sounds within.
That sounds promisingly sinister, so they head toward it, although they make camp when they are still a fair ways off, and they take care to keep their watches carefully.
Because we have already traveled through a dungeon and scored a hit on our gather info, I’m going to rule that this is probably the thing we seek. To figure out what kind of dungeon it is, I’m going to roll from three options and I’ll randomly assign a theme:
The next day they rise, but they take their time approaching the thicket. Even from far off they can feel a sense of wrongness about it. Even so, glory (and hopefully payment!) lay on the other side, so they push forward.
Discover a Site: Corrupted Cavern (Formidable).
They enter the thicket, fighting the horse and donkey all the way. Inguna finds a hint of a trail in the dead grass and leads them up a gentle rise to a low hillock. Just to the north lies the river; it would have been hidden behind a canopy in better days, but the bare tree limbs hide little. The circle of death extends equidistantly in all directions; even a few trees on the far side of the river are chalky gray instead of brown.
At the peak of the hillock stands a low wall of pale gray stone that is all that remains of the foundation of some building now long gone.
A dark pit, ringed by a strange red moss, gapes open in the earth like a sucking wound. A faint wet sound can be heard from within. “Underwater river,” Bjarn posits. All the rest pretend to believe him as they stake the animals and prepare to descend into the earth.
What do they find within? Something Unusual – Fortified/Hideaway.
The pit descends as a narrow chute through almost twenty feet of earth until it emerges into a cavern of unworked stone. Gethin lifts his torch and paces the chamber while the rest of the party follows him down. By the time the last of them arrive, he has mapped the room. It is featureless and without exits except for a single door of iron set into the northern wall.
“This strange curse is no work of nature, red in tooth and claw,” Gethin observes. “Some man had a hand in this. And that man might still be here. Be ready.” The party draws their weapons.
[Delve the Depths (Wits): Mark progress and Reveal a Danger.]
[Mark Progress: Corrupted Cavern :1 boxes]
Feature: Subterranean Waterway (Treacherous/Exit)
Danger: Lose way or are delayed
The door opens with a rusty groan, revealing a claustrophobic tunnel that sinks deeper into the stone. Gethin leads with his shield high as the others follow behind with torches and weapons. The fires cast long shadows that move strangely against the warped walls.
The faint water sounds become louder as they progress. Eventually, their tunnel opens into a large cavern that is split in half by a wide and swift river. The water is roaring here, for at the far end of the cavern the water gathers and throws up spray as it drains in a violent whirlpool.
“Where do you think it goes?” Inguna asks. None of them want to find out.
Unfortunately, there is no bridge and the span is too far to jump. They cast lots for who will have to swim across, and it falls on [d5=] Inguna. “Guess you’ll get the chance to find out,” Somhaile jokes. Inguna doesn’t laugh as they tie a rope around his waist.
Face Danger (iron) to swim across: [Strong Hit: 5 + 3 + 0 = 8 vs 3 2]. +1m but I’m already at 10 (I should burn it!).
He swims across but is swept quite a ways down stream before he reaches the far bank. They throw him a torch and wait as he secures the rope to a stone outcropping on his side. The rest of the party passes by safely, though they are cold and shivering when they emerge and begin to dress again.
[Delve the Depths: Mark progress.]
[Mark Progress: Corrupted Cavern :2 boxes]
Feature: Cramped Caves (Secret/Entry)
The tunnel beyond the river leads to a series of cramped chambers. In one, a faint breeze stirs the air. They investigate and eventually find a chimney that might lead up into the world above, although the climb upward would be nearly impossible.
[Delve the Depths: Choose one: Mark progress or Find an Opportunity.]
[Mark Progress: Corrupted Cavern :3 boxes]
Feature: Twisting Passages (Unstable/Valuables)
Eventually, they progress out of the caves and into a maze of twisting passages. Time seems to stall as they track and backtrack their way through the tunnels. All grow weary and–truth be told–frightened when they realize that they have been underground for far longer than they had expected, and that the way out may not be trivial.
It is Somhaile who spots them first, with her keen thief’s eyes–a smattering of reflective discs down a side corridor. They investigate and realize that they are silver coins, shining in the torchlight. Someone has definitely been here. Somhaile pockets the coins as they pass, though the others want to leave them behind to track their return. “Leave your own silver, then,” she retorts.
Inguna drops a few coppers before he realizes that no one else is doing so. Feeling foolish, he stops.
[Delve the Depths: Mark progress and Reveal a Danger.]
[Mark Progress: Corrupted Cavern :4 boxes]
[Reveal a Danger: Denizen controls dark magic]
Feature: Vast Chamber (Fortified/Boundary)
The passage emerges into another chamber, on that stretches out so far in all directions that their torchlight is swallowed by the darkness.
Face Danger (Wits) to detect the foe: [Miss: 3 + 2 + 0 = 5 vs 7 8].
Unwilling to become lost in the darkness, they decide to hug the walls and circle the cavern in a counterclockwise direction. Eventually, the come around again to the tunnel where they started. With nothing left to do, they leave the safety of the wall behind and step out into the great open chamber. Soon the wall is lost behind them. Their torchlight flickers feebly in the darkness, revealing a dim circle of dun beige stone floor and nothing but void beyond.
Eventually, something materializes out of the darkness–a squat, perfectly square structure of worked stone, possibly twenty paces to a side and 10′ high. [Description: Assault/Desolation] Scenes of battle and destruction appear to be engraved upon its surface, but even in the still air underground the ancient carvings have been worn smooth by countless aeons.
In one wall stands a door. With no where else to go, they open it.
Here’s where the Face Danger miss comes into play. Let’s decide what kind of monster we’re facing.
Monstrosity: giant-sized – fish (I’m going to interpret as eel) – spikes/spines – keen senses
A robed figure stands within, hunched over a darkly stained altar. As the party enters, the figure turns and begins to howl. Foul green mist pours of its open mouth, billowing across the narrow room toward the party. None want to test it, so they fall back into the large chamber, slamming the door behind them.
Just then, a whistling sound fills the air. They look up just in time to see a shadow, almost iridescent in its blackness, falling from the ceiling. The thing strikes the ground just within the light of their torches. It is a silver-scaled thing with a mouth full of razor-pointed teeth; its head it huge, easily large enough to bite through a man’s torso if it can get hold of him. Suddenly it begins to move, wiggling forward like a snake with an explosive burst of speed.
Enter the Fray against Eel-Monster and Wizard (Formidable): [Weak Hit: 3 + 2 + 0 = 5 vs 6 4]. Keep initiative.
Strike (I’m going to rule I can use my warband here): [Weak Hit: 1 + 4 + 0 = 5 vs 1 10].
[Mark Progress: Battle: Eel-monster and wizard :2 boxes]
The band falls together into a group as the beast comes at them. Spears out, they manage to turn it aside just as it sends its snapping maw against Gethin’s shield. In a moment, it slithers out of sight around the building and disappears into the darkness.
They can hear it moving, just beyond the circle of torchlight. The band presses their backs together, peering futilely into the darkness.
Suddenly, it snaps forward out of the dark. Its body is long–they can see it now–dozens of feet long, and as thick around as a man. Heavy spines like sharpened quarterstaffs drag behind it, flaring from the sides of its body.
Clash: [Strong Hit: 5 + 4 + 0 = 9 vs 7 4]
[Mark Progress: Battle: Eel-monster and wizard :5 boxes]
The party scrambles aside at the last second and the beast cannot stop its momentum as it sails through their midst. They stick it several times at it passes, cutting long scores in its scaly hide.
Strike: [Weak Hit: 1 + 4 + 0 = 5 vs 3 6]
[Mark Progress: Battle: Eel-monster and wizard :7 boxes]
They follow it this time, gaining confidence. Several more hits land home. Suddenly, the door behind them smashes open and a whip of silver-green fire lashes out at them–the wizard has arrived.
Clash: [Weak Hit: 2 + 4 + 0 = 6 vs 10 1]. Can’t use momentum, so one of my men goes down.
Who is hurt? Bjarn.
[Mark Progress: Battle: Eel-monster and wizard :9 boxes]
Sola, Gethin, and Inguna stay focused on the eel while Bjarn and Somhaile turn their attentions on the newly arrived wizard. The eel lashes out again, but not in time–Sola and Gethin form an effective wall while Inguna runs it through the neck with his spear. The thing writhes violently for a few moments, but it has been stuck well. It dies.
Just as the party turns, the wizard’s whip catches Bjarn across the chest. He goes down in a heap, like a puppet with the strings cut.
Clash: [Strong Hit: 5 + 3 + 0 = 8 vs 1 3]
[Mark Progress: Battle: Eel-monster and wizard :10 boxes]
[Progress Roll: Battle: Eel-monster and wizard :Strong Hit = 10 vs 3 6]
The wizard’s victory is short-lived. Somhaile manages to sneak behind the robed figure and plant her dagger in the center of its back. It collapses with a groan and lies still.
After that fight, I’m going to say we completed one of the major steps on our quest. Surely this wizard and big eel were related to Longhill’s troubles.
[Mark Progress: Bring back the fishing :6 boxes]
Was Bjarn killed (75%)? No!
They go to Bjarn and find that he still lives, though his breathing is shallow and his eyes will not open. They need to get him rest, but none of them would be mad enough to rest in that cavern. Gethin and Somhaile investigate the building while Inguna and Sola try to prepare Bjarn to be moved.
What’s inside the building? Transform-Wound / Avenge-Time.
The chamber is spartan in its decoration. The altar stands alone near one wall; near the other lies the top of a staircase that leads deeper into the earth. Gethin averts his eyes from the altar and even Somhaile turns away; neither know what poor creature contributed to the mass of tortured flesh upon the bare stone, but both are glad that they killed the robed figure outside.
This doesn’t seem like a good place to rest, so Bjarn is going to have to stay out of commission for a while. Meanwhile, I’m going to use the stairs as an opportunity to change the domain of this dungeon–instead of a Corrupted Cavern, we are now moving into a Corrupted Underkeep. Otherwise, progress remains the same.
[Delve the Depths (Shadow): Choose one: Mark progress or Find an Opportunity.]
[Mark Progress: Corrupted Underkeep :5 boxes]
Feature: Hall or Chamber (Fragile/Exit)
The party moves more slowly now, and with as much quiet as they can muster given Bjarn’s condition. Somhaile moves a few dozen paces ahead of the others, keeping an eye out for signs of trouble. The stairs descend into a large, worked hall. Colonnades progress up the sides of the hall and lead toward an imposing set of bronze doors, but when the party draws near they realize that the right hand doors is ajar; there is enough room to pass through without disturbing it.
[Delve the Depths: Choose one: Mark progress or Find an Opportunity.]
[Mark Progress: Corrupted Underkeep :6 boxes]
Feature: Foundry or Workshop (Foreboding/Breach)
The door leads into a maze of 10′ wide corridors of worked stone. They choose a direction at random and move that way, passing several locked doors before coming at least to an open chamber. Light and heat emanate from within, but the room is empty. Inside, a forge’s embers lay dying. Strange tools of iron line the walls, devices of torture and war, twisted armor or weapons designed for bodies clearly inhuman.
[Delve the Depths: Mark progress.]
[Mark Progress: Corrupted Underkeep :7 boxes]
Feature: Stairs into the Depths (Mystical/Threshold)
Finally, they come to the end of the mazelike corridors. Another chamber stands there, and against the far end looms the maw of some devilish beast. It takes a heartbeat before they realize it is carven stone, and that within that maw stands a staircase that descends even deeper into the earth.
None of them want to follow it, but what choice do they have now?
[Delve the Depths: Mark progress and Reveal a Danger.]
[Mark Progress: Corrupted Underkeep :8 boxes]
Danger: Ancient Mechanism or Trap
Feature: Carved Passages (Active/Entry)
They descend further into the earth. The stairs spiral down, deeper and deeper, seemingly forever. Finally, they level out and open into a tunnel of perfectly smooth stone. They take cautious steps forward.
Face Danger (Wits) to avoid the trap: [Miss: 6 + 2 + 0 = 8 vs 8 8]
That could be bad! I’ll use momentum.
[Strong Hit: 6 + 2 + 0 = 10 vs 8 8]. Reset to 2m. +1m (now 3).
Suddenly, Somhaile reaches out and grabs Gethin’s armor and jerks him backwards off his feet. The clatters to the ground with a resounding echo. In a second he’s up, ready to berate her for making so much noise, but she puts her hand over his mouth. With a finger she points at the ground. A low wire, no thicker than a hair, runs at ankle height across the tunnel.
After a moment he removes her hand. Thank you he mouths at her. She reaches forward and pulls the coin purse off his belt and ties it to her own. He decides that argument can wait for later.
[Delve the Depths: Take both: Mark progress and Find an Opportunity.]
[Find an Opportunity: You are alerted to a potential threat.] +1 to next move and +1m on hit.
[Mark Progress: Corrupted Underkeep :9 boxes]
Feature: Shrine or Temple (Marked/History)
Monstrosity: person-sized – beast – tentacles – crusheconstrictor
The tunnel eventually leads to a small complex of carven chambers, all leading toward one center chamber. There, the ground slopes forward like an amphitheater toward a terrible shrine. That strange red mold grows everywhere here, red enough that it seems to glow with its own inner light. Water seeps in from countless tiny cracks on the walls, flowing down the pulsating mold and eventually draining through a small hole set before the altar.
A half dozen figures are here, worshipping at the altar on bended knee. The sound of their inhuman ululating covers the sounds of the party’s approach [thanks Find an Opportunity!]. The adventurers ready their weapons and prepare to throw.
Battle: [Weak Hit: 2 + 3 + 1 = 6 vs 4 9].
Who pays the price? Sola. -1 strength to warband (now 2).
The party’s ambush catches the cultists off guard and two of them are cut down immediately. The others turn, though, and the wailing becomes a scream of anger. They throw back their hoods, revealing faces that had once been human but are not mixed inseparable with that horrific red mold. Tentacles sprout from the fingers and backs as they run, spreading out from beneath dark fabric robes.
The party fights valiantly, holding the strange things off with fire and steel, and eventually the last of them lies dead. It is then that Gethin notices Sola, kneeling at the side of one of the defeated cultists. He goes to her, reaches out a hand, but that’s when he sees it–one of the cultist’s long tentacles has found a weak spot in her armor and has punched through her side.
Can he get the tentacle out without killing her? [Weak Hit: 5 + 2 + 0 = 7 vs 4 10]. -1 Supply (now 4).
The mold fears the fire, even in death, and he thrusts his torch into the wound on her side. She screams and tries to wrench away, but Inguna grabs her by the arms and holds her tight as Gethin thrusts the burning brand right into her flesh. She shudders, bites her own tongue until blood pours from her mouth, and falls still. He keeps the torch on her as her skin blisters and blackens.
Finally, he tosses the torch aside and digs in his pack for a small glass vial. He tips it into her mouth and holds back her head. The potion works quickly. The burnt flesh begins to pinken and scab. Her pale face flushes with color. Gethin sinks to his knees beside her.
Finally, he looks around. “I think we’ve done it,” he says.
Have they done it?
Reach destination: [Progress Roll: Corrupted Underkeep :Strong Hit = 9 vs 4 7]. Success! +1m (now 4).
[Mark Progress: Bring back the fishing :8 boxes]
There is no where deeper to go. The put the torch to everything they can find. The mold on the walls catches and the fire races up toward the ceiling of the cave, filling the chamber with acrid smoke. The party then takes hammers to the altar and throws the shattered stones to the four corners of the chamber, so that even its foul presence will no longer infect the water seeping through the walls and down the drain.
Finally, they retrace their steps and, after many long hours, emerge once more onto the surface.
That's it for this session! And as a reminder: You can find links to every one of my solo session game reports on my Campaign Logs page on my blog.
submitted by AdventureMaterials to Solo_Roleplaying [link] [comments]
In the last episode, the party gained a quest to figure out why the fishing has dried up for the town of Longhill, and they have followed what clues they could find into the woods east of town.
The Party: Sir Gethin Oyvind E-1 H-2 I-3 S-1 W-2 Health: 5, Spirit: 5, Supply: 5, Momentum: 8/2. Assets: Commander (strength 4), Ironclad (light armor), Empowered (Knight Errant). Equipment: chain armor, sword, shield, crossbow, horse Vows: Become worthy of the Oyvind family name (epic): 0.0, bring back the fishing (dangerous): 2.0
Bonds:
- Baggi the Carpenter.
- Frej the Mercenary.
- Tessa the Wheel-maker.
- Sola the Cruel (fighter). Workcrew overseer.
- Inguna the Naive (fightescout). A trapper.
- Bjarn the Jealous (fighter). A falconer.
- Somhaile the Tactless (thief/scout). A thief.
Cautious after their near-encounter with the strange crab-mosquito, the party moves forward with as much stealth as five people, a horse, and a donkey can muster.
Delve the Depths (Shadow): [Delve the Depths: Mark progress.]. [Mark Progress: Haunted Forest :9 boxes]. What do they find? Clearing (complex/refuge).
They eventually find a game trail and make faster progress. It winds through the wood until emerging in a large clearing that holds a walled camp. The walls are made of ~8 foot high poles and enclose an area about 80 feet across. A light gate stands open on one side.
Because I had no encounter, I’m going to rule that this is unoccupied. Since my supply is full, I won’t need to resupply but I may make camp.
Gethin sends Somhaile and Inguna in to investigate. They creep up to the walls, peer carefully around the open gate, and eventually disappear inside. A few moments later, they come back out waving and reporting that the camp appears to have been abandoned.
Are there supplies inside still (50%)? No, and…
The interior is entirely bare. Few signs of the prior occupants remain. Still, it’s a defensible spot and Gethin orders the party to set up camp for the night.
Make Camp: [Strong Hit: 4 + 5 + 0 = 9 vs 7 1]. +1m (now 9) and +1 next move.
The night passes easily, and the party sleeps well knowing that they have walls around them. Even the watches are uneventful. They rise early and break camp just after sunup.
[Progress Roll: Haunted Forest :Strong Hit = 9 vs 7 7]. +1 to next move (now +2).
[Mark Progress: Bring back the fishing :4 boxes]
The road passes beyond the forest and emerges onto the shore of a small lake.
Is the smell of death worse here (75%)? Yes, but…
The smell of death worsens as they leave the woods, but they still cannot see any sign of what may be causing it. There are no fish decomposing on the lake’s shoreline, and they see nothing floating atop the water. Still, they are confident that they are growing closer to their goal.
With nowhere to go but further upriver, Gethin dispatches the two scouts to see what they can find.
Gather Information: [Weak Hit: 5 + 2 + 2 = 9 vs 9 2]. +1m (now 1). What do they find? Blighted/Thicket.
It is very late before they come back. When they do, they look wary of what they have to report. A thicket ahead, near the great eastern forest–but the trees there are dead, and not by fire. The grass, too, is yellowed and crunches underfoot. They dared not go further by themselves, for they heard strange sounds within.
That sounds promisingly sinister, so they head toward it, although they make camp when they are still a fair ways off, and they take care to keep their watches carefully.
Because we have already traveled through a dungeon and scored a hit on our gather info, I’m going to rule that this is probably the thing we seek. To figure out what kind of dungeon it is, I’m going to roll from three options and I’ll randomly assign a theme:
- Barrow
- Cavern
- Sea Cavern (river, in this case)
The next day they rise, but they take their time approaching the thicket. Even from far off they can feel a sense of wrongness about it. Even so, glory (and hopefully payment!) lay on the other side, so they push forward.
Discover a Site: Corrupted Cavern (Formidable).
They enter the thicket, fighting the horse and donkey all the way. Inguna finds a hint of a trail in the dead grass and leads them up a gentle rise to a low hillock. Just to the north lies the river; it would have been hidden behind a canopy in better days, but the bare tree limbs hide little. The circle of death extends equidistantly in all directions; even a few trees on the far side of the river are chalky gray instead of brown.
At the peak of the hillock stands a low wall of pale gray stone that is all that remains of the foundation of some building now long gone.
A dark pit, ringed by a strange red moss, gapes open in the earth like a sucking wound. A faint wet sound can be heard from within. “Underwater river,” Bjarn posits. All the rest pretend to believe him as they stake the animals and prepare to descend into the earth.
What do they find within? Something Unusual – Fortified/Hideaway.
The pit descends as a narrow chute through almost twenty feet of earth until it emerges into a cavern of unworked stone. Gethin lifts his torch and paces the chamber while the rest of the party follows him down. By the time the last of them arrive, he has mapped the room. It is featureless and without exits except for a single door of iron set into the northern wall.
“This strange curse is no work of nature, red in tooth and claw,” Gethin observes. “Some man had a hand in this. And that man might still be here. Be ready.” The party draws their weapons.
[Delve the Depths (Wits): Mark progress and Reveal a Danger.]
[Mark Progress: Corrupted Cavern :1 boxes]
Feature: Subterranean Waterway (Treacherous/Exit)
Danger: Lose way or are delayed
The door opens with a rusty groan, revealing a claustrophobic tunnel that sinks deeper into the stone. Gethin leads with his shield high as the others follow behind with torches and weapons. The fires cast long shadows that move strangely against the warped walls.
The faint water sounds become louder as they progress. Eventually, their tunnel opens into a large cavern that is split in half by a wide and swift river. The water is roaring here, for at the far end of the cavern the water gathers and throws up spray as it drains in a violent whirlpool.
“Where do you think it goes?” Inguna asks. None of them want to find out.
Unfortunately, there is no bridge and the span is too far to jump. They cast lots for who will have to swim across, and it falls on [d5=] Inguna. “Guess you’ll get the chance to find out,” Somhaile jokes. Inguna doesn’t laugh as they tie a rope around his waist.
Face Danger (iron) to swim across: [Strong Hit: 5 + 3 + 0 = 8 vs 3 2]. +1m but I’m already at 10 (I should burn it!).
He swims across but is swept quite a ways down stream before he reaches the far bank. They throw him a torch and wait as he secures the rope to a stone outcropping on his side. The rest of the party passes by safely, though they are cold and shivering when they emerge and begin to dress again.
[Delve the Depths: Mark progress.]
[Mark Progress: Corrupted Cavern :2 boxes]
Feature: Cramped Caves (Secret/Entry)
The tunnel beyond the river leads to a series of cramped chambers. In one, a faint breeze stirs the air. They investigate and eventually find a chimney that might lead up into the world above, although the climb upward would be nearly impossible.
[Delve the Depths: Choose one: Mark progress or Find an Opportunity.]
[Mark Progress: Corrupted Cavern :3 boxes]
Feature: Twisting Passages (Unstable/Valuables)
Eventually, they progress out of the caves and into a maze of twisting passages. Time seems to stall as they track and backtrack their way through the tunnels. All grow weary and–truth be told–frightened when they realize that they have been underground for far longer than they had expected, and that the way out may not be trivial.
It is Somhaile who spots them first, with her keen thief’s eyes–a smattering of reflective discs down a side corridor. They investigate and realize that they are silver coins, shining in the torchlight. Someone has definitely been here. Somhaile pockets the coins as they pass, though the others want to leave them behind to track their return. “Leave your own silver, then,” she retorts.
Inguna drops a few coppers before he realizes that no one else is doing so. Feeling foolish, he stops.
[Delve the Depths: Mark progress and Reveal a Danger.]
[Mark Progress: Corrupted Cavern :4 boxes]
[Reveal a Danger: Denizen controls dark magic]
Feature: Vast Chamber (Fortified/Boundary)
The passage emerges into another chamber, on that stretches out so far in all directions that their torchlight is swallowed by the darkness.
Face Danger (Wits) to detect the foe: [Miss: 3 + 2 + 0 = 5 vs 7 8].
Unwilling to become lost in the darkness, they decide to hug the walls and circle the cavern in a counterclockwise direction. Eventually, the come around again to the tunnel where they started. With nothing left to do, they leave the safety of the wall behind and step out into the great open chamber. Soon the wall is lost behind them. Their torchlight flickers feebly in the darkness, revealing a dim circle of dun beige stone floor and nothing but void beyond.
Eventually, something materializes out of the darkness–a squat, perfectly square structure of worked stone, possibly twenty paces to a side and 10′ high. [Description: Assault/Desolation] Scenes of battle and destruction appear to be engraved upon its surface, but even in the still air underground the ancient carvings have been worn smooth by countless aeons.
In one wall stands a door. With no where else to go, they open it.
Here’s where the Face Danger miss comes into play. Let’s decide what kind of monster we’re facing.
Monstrosity: giant-sized – fish (I’m going to interpret as eel) – spikes/spines – keen senses
A robed figure stands within, hunched over a darkly stained altar. As the party enters, the figure turns and begins to howl. Foul green mist pours of its open mouth, billowing across the narrow room toward the party. None want to test it, so they fall back into the large chamber, slamming the door behind them.
Just then, a whistling sound fills the air. They look up just in time to see a shadow, almost iridescent in its blackness, falling from the ceiling. The thing strikes the ground just within the light of their torches. It is a silver-scaled thing with a mouth full of razor-pointed teeth; its head it huge, easily large enough to bite through a man’s torso if it can get hold of him. Suddenly it begins to move, wiggling forward like a snake with an explosive burst of speed.
Enter the Fray against Eel-Monster and Wizard (Formidable): [Weak Hit: 3 + 2 + 0 = 5 vs 6 4]. Keep initiative.
Strike (I’m going to rule I can use my warband here): [Weak Hit: 1 + 4 + 0 = 5 vs 1 10].
[Mark Progress: Battle: Eel-monster and wizard :2 boxes]
The band falls together into a group as the beast comes at them. Spears out, they manage to turn it aside just as it sends its snapping maw against Gethin’s shield. In a moment, it slithers out of sight around the building and disappears into the darkness.
They can hear it moving, just beyond the circle of torchlight. The band presses their backs together, peering futilely into the darkness.
Suddenly, it snaps forward out of the dark. Its body is long–they can see it now–dozens of feet long, and as thick around as a man. Heavy spines like sharpened quarterstaffs drag behind it, flaring from the sides of its body.
Clash: [Strong Hit: 5 + 4 + 0 = 9 vs 7 4]
[Mark Progress: Battle: Eel-monster and wizard :5 boxes]
The party scrambles aside at the last second and the beast cannot stop its momentum as it sails through their midst. They stick it several times at it passes, cutting long scores in its scaly hide.
Strike: [Weak Hit: 1 + 4 + 0 = 5 vs 3 6]
[Mark Progress: Battle: Eel-monster and wizard :7 boxes]
They follow it this time, gaining confidence. Several more hits land home. Suddenly, the door behind them smashes open and a whip of silver-green fire lashes out at them–the wizard has arrived.
Clash: [Weak Hit: 2 + 4 + 0 = 6 vs 10 1]. Can’t use momentum, so one of my men goes down.
Who is hurt? Bjarn.
[Mark Progress: Battle: Eel-monster and wizard :9 boxes]
Sola, Gethin, and Inguna stay focused on the eel while Bjarn and Somhaile turn their attentions on the newly arrived wizard. The eel lashes out again, but not in time–Sola and Gethin form an effective wall while Inguna runs it through the neck with his spear. The thing writhes violently for a few moments, but it has been stuck well. It dies.
Just as the party turns, the wizard’s whip catches Bjarn across the chest. He goes down in a heap, like a puppet with the strings cut.
Clash: [Strong Hit: 5 + 3 + 0 = 8 vs 1 3]
[Mark Progress: Battle: Eel-monster and wizard :10 boxes]
[Progress Roll: Battle: Eel-monster and wizard :Strong Hit = 10 vs 3 6]
The wizard’s victory is short-lived. Somhaile manages to sneak behind the robed figure and plant her dagger in the center of its back. It collapses with a groan and lies still.
After that fight, I’m going to say we completed one of the major steps on our quest. Surely this wizard and big eel were related to Longhill’s troubles.
[Mark Progress: Bring back the fishing :6 boxes]
Was Bjarn killed (75%)? No!
They go to Bjarn and find that he still lives, though his breathing is shallow and his eyes will not open. They need to get him rest, but none of them would be mad enough to rest in that cavern. Gethin and Somhaile investigate the building while Inguna and Sola try to prepare Bjarn to be moved.
What’s inside the building? Transform-Wound / Avenge-Time.
The chamber is spartan in its decoration. The altar stands alone near one wall; near the other lies the top of a staircase that leads deeper into the earth. Gethin averts his eyes from the altar and even Somhaile turns away; neither know what poor creature contributed to the mass of tortured flesh upon the bare stone, but both are glad that they killed the robed figure outside.
This doesn’t seem like a good place to rest, so Bjarn is going to have to stay out of commission for a while. Meanwhile, I’m going to use the stairs as an opportunity to change the domain of this dungeon–instead of a Corrupted Cavern, we are now moving into a Corrupted Underkeep. Otherwise, progress remains the same.
[Delve the Depths (Shadow): Choose one: Mark progress or Find an Opportunity.]
[Mark Progress: Corrupted Underkeep :5 boxes]
Feature: Hall or Chamber (Fragile/Exit)
The party moves more slowly now, and with as much quiet as they can muster given Bjarn’s condition. Somhaile moves a few dozen paces ahead of the others, keeping an eye out for signs of trouble. The stairs descend into a large, worked hall. Colonnades progress up the sides of the hall and lead toward an imposing set of bronze doors, but when the party draws near they realize that the right hand doors is ajar; there is enough room to pass through without disturbing it.
[Delve the Depths: Choose one: Mark progress or Find an Opportunity.]
[Mark Progress: Corrupted Underkeep :6 boxes]
Feature: Foundry or Workshop (Foreboding/Breach)
The door leads into a maze of 10′ wide corridors of worked stone. They choose a direction at random and move that way, passing several locked doors before coming at least to an open chamber. Light and heat emanate from within, but the room is empty. Inside, a forge’s embers lay dying. Strange tools of iron line the walls, devices of torture and war, twisted armor or weapons designed for bodies clearly inhuman.
[Delve the Depths: Mark progress.]
[Mark Progress: Corrupted Underkeep :7 boxes]
Feature: Stairs into the Depths (Mystical/Threshold)
Finally, they come to the end of the mazelike corridors. Another chamber stands there, and against the far end looms the maw of some devilish beast. It takes a heartbeat before they realize it is carven stone, and that within that maw stands a staircase that descends even deeper into the earth.
None of them want to follow it, but what choice do they have now?
[Delve the Depths: Mark progress and Reveal a Danger.]
[Mark Progress: Corrupted Underkeep :8 boxes]
Danger: Ancient Mechanism or Trap
Feature: Carved Passages (Active/Entry)
They descend further into the earth. The stairs spiral down, deeper and deeper, seemingly forever. Finally, they level out and open into a tunnel of perfectly smooth stone. They take cautious steps forward.
Face Danger (Wits) to avoid the trap: [Miss: 6 + 2 + 0 = 8 vs 8 8]
That could be bad! I’ll use momentum.
[Strong Hit: 6 + 2 + 0 = 10 vs 8 8]. Reset to 2m. +1m (now 3).
Suddenly, Somhaile reaches out and grabs Gethin’s armor and jerks him backwards off his feet. The clatters to the ground with a resounding echo. In a second he’s up, ready to berate her for making so much noise, but she puts her hand over his mouth. With a finger she points at the ground. A low wire, no thicker than a hair, runs at ankle height across the tunnel.
After a moment he removes her hand. Thank you he mouths at her. She reaches forward and pulls the coin purse off his belt and ties it to her own. He decides that argument can wait for later.
[Delve the Depths: Take both: Mark progress and Find an Opportunity.]
[Find an Opportunity: You are alerted to a potential threat.] +1 to next move and +1m on hit.
[Mark Progress: Corrupted Underkeep :9 boxes]
Feature: Shrine or Temple (Marked/History)
Monstrosity: person-sized – beast – tentacles – crusheconstrictor
The tunnel eventually leads to a small complex of carven chambers, all leading toward one center chamber. There, the ground slopes forward like an amphitheater toward a terrible shrine. That strange red mold grows everywhere here, red enough that it seems to glow with its own inner light. Water seeps in from countless tiny cracks on the walls, flowing down the pulsating mold and eventually draining through a small hole set before the altar.
A half dozen figures are here, worshipping at the altar on bended knee. The sound of their inhuman ululating covers the sounds of the party’s approach [thanks Find an Opportunity!]. The adventurers ready their weapons and prepare to throw.
Battle: [Weak Hit: 2 + 3 + 1 = 6 vs 4 9].
Who pays the price? Sola. -1 strength to warband (now 2).
The party’s ambush catches the cultists off guard and two of them are cut down immediately. The others turn, though, and the wailing becomes a scream of anger. They throw back their hoods, revealing faces that had once been human but are not mixed inseparable with that horrific red mold. Tentacles sprout from the fingers and backs as they run, spreading out from beneath dark fabric robes.
The party fights valiantly, holding the strange things off with fire and steel, and eventually the last of them lies dead. It is then that Gethin notices Sola, kneeling at the side of one of the defeated cultists. He goes to her, reaches out a hand, but that’s when he sees it–one of the cultist’s long tentacles has found a weak spot in her armor and has punched through her side.
Can he get the tentacle out without killing her? [Weak Hit: 5 + 2 + 0 = 7 vs 4 10]. -1 Supply (now 4).
The mold fears the fire, even in death, and he thrusts his torch into the wound on her side. She screams and tries to wrench away, but Inguna grabs her by the arms and holds her tight as Gethin thrusts the burning brand right into her flesh. She shudders, bites her own tongue until blood pours from her mouth, and falls still. He keeps the torch on her as her skin blisters and blackens.
Finally, he tosses the torch aside and digs in his pack for a small glass vial. He tips it into her mouth and holds back her head. The potion works quickly. The burnt flesh begins to pinken and scab. Her pale face flushes with color. Gethin sinks to his knees beside her.
Finally, he looks around. “I think we’ve done it,” he says.
Have they done it?
Reach destination: [Progress Roll: Corrupted Underkeep :Strong Hit = 9 vs 4 7]. Success! +1m (now 4).
[Mark Progress: Bring back the fishing :8 boxes]
There is no where deeper to go. The put the torch to everything they can find. The mold on the walls catches and the fire races up toward the ceiling of the cave, filling the chamber with acrid smoke. The party then takes hammers to the altar and throws the shattered stones to the four corners of the chamber, so that even its foul presence will no longer infect the water seeping through the walls and down the drain.
Finally, they retrace their steps and, after many long hours, emerge once more onto the surface.
That's it for this session! And as a reminder: You can find links to every one of my solo session game reports on my Campaign Logs page on my blog.