My nightmare started when I woke up on a park bench in Omaha, Nebraska. My original travel plans were much more adventurous, but most of the vacation fund dried up after the company’s CFO found me in his car…with his wife. Turns out she wanted to get caught, to make him jealous or something.
That is how, for reasons not totally beyond my control, I ended up summering in Omaha instead of Oahu. But hey, at least they have great fried pickles. I spent most of my time their napping, and that was what brought me to the park bench.
I woke up to a bird on my shoe. He was pecking away at the residual crumbs of what may or may not have been fried pickles.
“Hey little guy,” I said, smiling down at my visitor. He wasn’t a bird of paradise, but at least he liked me. Then the crumbs ran out, and he didn’t like me so much anymore. “Fuck you, too!” I shouted as he flew away, off to go play with some other man’s heart no doubt. Just as I was about to settle back in to my midday nap, I felt my phone buzz.
Finally, I thought. Someone to talk to. I was getting sick of just swiping through my home screen pages every time I wanted to look busy, but when I pulled my iPhone out, I found something even more surprisingly than a text from a friend or loved one. It was an airdrop:
ANONYMOUS would like to share some photos.
Decline Accept
I looked around. There were people near me, but most of them weren’t young enough to know how to airdrop something, and no one was using their phone. I accepted.
“What the hellll?” I let out before a chuckle. The first picture was of me, slumped over on the park bench, sleeping with my mouth open. I was instantly filled with embarrassment and wonder. On the one hand, it’s pretty depressing to see yourself sleeping in an unflattering position and I had a triple chin thing going in the photo. On the other hand, I couldn’t deny that it was pretty funny.
I looked up, hoping to catch someone giggling or at least staring in my direction, but I couldn’t see anyone who gave the slightest indication that it was them. In fact, by the time I looked up, I was alone.
Weird.
The second picture wasn’t funny at all. It was all black, with a bunch of characters in what looked like Mandarin or some other Eastern language drawn on with the digital marker. A message from the sender. But I couldn’t read whatever language it was, and I didn’t know how I would go about translating it, seeing as I couldn’t just copy and paste the text, so I chose to just ignore the message, telling myself I would go to the trouble of translating it later. God, do I wish I wasn’t such a procrastinator.
The sun was setting so I stood up, took one last glance around for any hidden airdroppers, and walked back to my motel.
Later that night, I found myself hopelessly scrolling through Tinder. I realized long ago that dating apps can tell you a lot about the place you’re visiting, and I considered it part of my cultural experience to judge strangers behind a screen in my pajamas. Mostly I would just swipe my way through and laugh at the weird corn people without even considering a meet up, but every once in a while I would swipe right if I felt something. I never imagined that I would get anywhere.
Then I got another notification, and this time from someone I actually wanted to talk to. It was a girl (who looked waay out of my league) named Cristina.
“Hey, Greg. If you were on a lifeboat with me, Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson and the Queen (who was already dead at this point), who would you eat first?” I stared at her message. It was kind of quirky, but I liked it so I texted back.
“Obviously you, because I need the Rock to do all the rowing, the Queen is dead, and you’re quite the snack…” I smiled, proud of my work. The CFO’s wife didn’t know what she walked out on. Luckily, Cristina liked my reply as much as I did, and we struck up a nice conversation that had me copying the address to a local karaoke bar into my phone an hour later. It was only then that I began to regret my choice in vacation attire, and noticed that the bird had shat on my loafers. I ironed the only Polo I brought, threw on my sneakers and sped out.
On the way I stopped to fill up at a Chevron and went in to grab some mints (I thought about buying some banana sleeves, but that seemed a little too boastful.) When I went to pay, I dropped some change out of my wallet. Shit. The cashier, some kind of wannabe cowboy like everyone else in that city, smirked. I took a penny from the little plastic dish out of spite before leaving the store. While I was in my car, my phone buzzed. I snatched it up with excitement, assuming it was Cristina, but saw a different yet familiar name.
ANONYMOUS would like to share a photo.
Decline Accept
What the fuck? I looked around at the cars in the lot. Two others were filling up, and about four more were parked in front of the convenience store. I wondered whether someone inside the store would still be close enough to airdrop. Cautiously, I accepted.
The photo was of me bending over to pick up the change I had spilt, taken from the parking lot. I stared at it for a little while. It was funny and embarrassing just like the first one, my butt crack was even showing a little, but for some reason this photo made me uneasy. Is someone following me? I wondered. Had some influencer punk started a one-man hidden camera show where he just waited for you to do something embarrassing? I stared at the other cars.. Some of the windows were too tinted to see in. After a minute or two, I rolled out of there and drove off.
At the bar, I was relieved and elated to find that Cristina looked as good, nay, better than she did in her photos. “Wow,” I stuttered. “You’re beautiful.” She also said the same about me, which I chalked up to having ironed the polo. Things were off to a good start.
Throughout the date, Cristina was bubbly and adorable. She told me all about her life in rural Nebraska and what brought her to the “big city”, but I couldn’t pay attention to any of it. I really wish I could have, but I just couldn’t get those damn airdropped photos out of my head.
Cristina left to go to the bathroom, and I took the opportunity to look around the bar, scanning the room for any familiar faces. Everyone looked engrossed in their own evenings and dates and cringy singing, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was being watched.
“Hey, your profile says you really like to sing,” Cristina began with a smile. That was a fast bathroom break. “But you never said what type of music!” I stared at her, still a bit lost in thought, and it took a couple seconds to register what she was saying.
“Oh, well I like simple boring things, really. Commercial jingles, recycling PSA’s, communist propaganda, that kind of stuff.” Cristina smiled.
“You’re…you’re not a communist, right?”
“Of course not!” I laughed. “Let’s go sing something,” I got up from our table and offered her my hand.
“Good, because my parents always said that if I moved to the big city I’d end up marrying a commie, and I hate to prove them right about anything.” She giggled.
“Hey, baby, I’m so capitalist I changed my birthplace to the Cayman islands.” Cristina giggled even more. Damn were we getting along well. I got up onto the little square stage they had for karaoke singers and looked out at the crowd. Then I got a notification. You can probably already guess how it read.
ANONYMOUS would like to share a photo.
Decline Accept
I looked out across the room, dumb founded that ANONYMOUS had followed me here. I thought about showing Cristina but decided it would just worry her, and, even worse, prove her parents were right about the “big city”. I accepted the photo and startled backwards. My phone nearly fell to the floor. It was a photo of me at the bar, but not up on stage where it would have been easy for anyone to sneak a photo. It was from before, at our table, when I had turned to check out the other people. The worst part was that I was looking right at the mutherfucking camera!
My hand trembled. I tried to calm down. For some reason I didn’t want whoever sent the photo to know I was nervous. And I did NOT want Cristina to think that I was scared to sing Ring of Fire in front of a couple dozen famer hicks. But it was obvious from this picture that the photos weren’t just to be funny. This time, I wasn’t making any faces and my ass wasn’t showing. My face in the photo was one of concern.
How did I look right at the camera without realizing it? It struck me that the person sending these photos was going to extra lengths to remain hidden, maybe even as far as to camouflage themselves. They could be anyone, anywhere, with any sort of goal in mind. I shuttered.
The music started up and Cristina began to sing. I whipped around and looked at her. She was smiling, oblivious to the whole thing. And she looked happy. I didn’t want to spoil this moment, which was probably the only truly fun one of my vacation and the first time in a while that I was feeling some self-confidence. I began interchanging lines with her.
“I went down, down, down and the flames went higher.” I baritoned into the mic. She winked at me. I made it through the song and asked her to get the hell out of there, to which she excitedly said yes.
On the way back to my place, I thought about telling her about the photos but didn’t want to kill the mood. Still, I couldn’t help but look through the windows of every car that we passed.
I checked the rear view mirror for the umpteenth time, and a blue pickup truck was tailing close behind us. I made a right turn, then another, and the truck stayed close behind. After a while I made two more right turns and the headlights disappeared from my rearview mirror. Phew.
“What are you doing?” Cristina asked.
“Huh?”
“You just made four right turns. You went in a circle.”
“Oh, yeah haha. I was hoping you wouldn’t notice, I wanted to be smooth. Just made a wrong turn back there.” Cristina nodded and reached out for my hand. I checked the rearview mirror. More headlights. Another pickup.
When we rolled into the parking lot of the motel, the truck behind us continued down the road, and I noticed it was red. I felt relieved until I pulled into my parking spot and hopped out of the car. Behind us to the right, the same blue truck from before was parked. Shit, he must have taken a quicker way over here.
How did he know where I was staying?
I put my arm over Cristina’s shoulder and rushed her into my room.
After the deed was done, Cristina promptly fell asleep (which I hoped was the sign of a job well done) and I decided to go for a walk in the parking lot. I wanted to figure out what the fuck was going on, but I didn’t want to call the police before there were any real threats or anything.
So, like every dumbass horror film victim, I went alone into the dark to investigate. I stepped out into the dark motel parking lot and eyed the truck sitting across the lot. Its headlights and grill formed an angry face that stared at me. I felt like it could read my thoughts. Leave, it said to me. Get out of here, you’ll only get into trouble. The headlight eyes bore into my brain. Don’t be dumb and you won’t get hurt-
A loud BANG came from behind me. I spun around to see a dark figure turn the corner and disappear around the back of the motel. My heart started to pound, urging me to move my legs in either a flight or fight direction.
I sprinted off towards the figure, and in moments I was turning the corner. Behind the motel, there were only tall thin trees and a formidable darkness that shielded whatever had run away from me. I paused, searching through the trees for my stalker. I squinted but couldn’t quite make anything out in the dark.
Then I heard something. Behind me. Something was...coughing.
Slowly, with my eyes first, I turned around and what I saw made my heart flutter. The sounds were coming from a dumpster, the kind usually left behind restaurants or apartment complexes that can only be moved by big semi garbage trucks. From within the dark dumpster, the head of a terrible beast with a black mask rose up. Its mouth, full of razor sharp, enamel covered fangs, clamped down onto a chicken bone with a hiss. It was a raccoon.
I laughed. There was so much pent up adrenaline in my body that I couldn’t help but convulse with the giggles. Soon tears were spilling out of my eyes and I had to lean on my knees to keep from passing out.
“You scared the shit out of me,” I told the raccoon, and it scampered off into the shadows. I remained there until my laughter subsided, and when it was gone I decided to stay a little while longer. It was a beautiful spot. Nebraska wasn’t that bad when you got to know it.
After a few more minutes spent collecting my thoughts and calming my nerves, I went back around the bend of my motel. I strode with new confidence towards my room, but still couldn’t resist looking over my shoulder at the blue truck in the parking lot. Is there someone in the driver’s seat? I didn’t want to be paranoid, but there was no way to deny that I felt like eyes were burning into my back. I walked more quickly until I reached my door, unlocked it and slipped inside.
Acting quickly, I shut the door behind me and put in the chain lock. I felt safer in my room. That is, until I lied back down onto the bed next to Cristina.
The instant my sweaty ass made contact with the crusty bed sheets, I got a notification. A lump formed in my throat and I grabbed my phone, but paused and said a silent prayer that it would just be a message of support from my mom, or a campaign donation request, or any other useless shit besides an airdrop before checking it. But I knew what it was, and looking at the screen only confirmed it.
ANONYMOUS would like to share a video.
Decline Accept
I gasped for oxygen. The humid air around me suddenly felt too thick to breath. I accepted the air drop and the video downloaded. It showed the door of my motel room. As I stared at the still frame, a new sense of anger rose up within me. Who the fuck was this Anonymous guy, anyway? Did he think he was scaring me? I mean, was he hoping that after seeing a few photos of myself I would send him my bank information? It was pathetic. I decided that I had done enough cowering and whimpering. I didn’t even play the video, but went to frantically jotting down a strongly worded letter in my Notes app threatening to call the police if he didn’t stop stalking me and at least tell me what he wanted. I signed off by writing;
Wishing you the best,
Pissed off Guy
I took a screenshot. “Pissed off guy” wasn’t my best work, creatively speaking, but I couldn’t think of any better names. I was too pissed off.
I opened the airdrop recipients in the vicinity. Despite my newfound courage, I trembled as the airdrop recipients in my area registered on my phone. For some reason, I was afraid that ANONYMOUS would pop up. Proving he was at the motel would make the situation feel more…real. Up until that point, all he had done was send me some pictures. If I sent something back to him, would he get more…aggressive?
I stared at the screen, my heart beating faster than a Browning automatic could shoot hollow-point bullets into a cheap motel room. One named appeared: ANONYMOUS’s iPhone. I swallowed a heavy breath. Was the air getting thicker? Slugs of sweat rolled down my face. I exhaled and sent my note to ANONYMOUS.
Shit, I thought to myself. What am I doing? I wanted to unsend it. For some reason this suddenly felt like the dumbest thing I’d ever done. I watched my screen intently. The tension was so high my heart almost sprung a leak, and I was afraid my bladder just might. Thankfully, it didn’t take very long to get a response.
ANONYMOUS would like to share some photos.
Decline Accept
I hit “accept” the instant I got his request.
It was a collection of photos. All the same photos he had sent me before. My blood boiled, and my face heated up. I work up the courage to talk to him and he just ignores me? I was starting to grow less concerned and more irritated by Anonymous’s antics, but then I noticed something.
The first picture of the most recent airdrop, the one where I’m asleep on a park bench and sporting a triple chin, had a red circle on it. The kind that you draw on a picture when you want to draw attention to something, except there didn’t seem to be anything particular inside the circle. I zoomed in, and my heart dropped into my stomach. Far off in the background, in the middle of the circle, was a man’s face hidden between the bushes.
He was wearing a dark hoodie that cast a shadow over his face, but zoomed in I could make out the details. He was bald, and most of his features were normal and indistinct, but his lips were curled up into an enormous hungry smile, with too many crooked yellow teeth crammed into his mouth for him to be a normal human.
His nostrils were flared, like he was breathing heavily. It gave the impression that he was almost lusting after me, like a beast stalking its prey. My blood pressure fell through the floor as I realized that he was looking straight at me. His ravenous chops wet with saliva, itching to sink his teeth into my plump, dormant flesh.
I nervously swiped to the next photo. Me in the gas station bending over to pick up my change. There was a red circle around someone standing a few yards behind me in line. It was the same man. He stared at me intently with eyes that were opened impossibly wide, and drool dripping from the corner of his mouth.
I nearly threw my phone in shock. He had been so close to me, and yet I didn’t remember seeing him. If you weren’t paying close attention, it would be easy to miss his inhuman features. I had probably been too distracted and embarrassment at having dropped my change on the floor to notice him. Damn my social anxiety.
The next photo was from the karaoke bar, the one where I was looking directly into the camera. Seeing me stare directly at the photographer without recognizing him or her made me queasy the first time I saw it, but now I was more worried about what was in the background. There was another red circle, in the dark hallway that led to the bathroom behind the bar to the left, but it was too dark to see anything in the shadows. I zoomed in and turned the brightness all the way up, and then I could just make out one thing.
A crooked, yellowed smile pointed in my direction.
Whoever or whatever he was, he had followed me for the whole day.
The last photo was all black except for something Anonymous had written, also in red. It said:
I AM NOT STALKER.
Goosebumps popped up behind my neck and down my shoulders. That’s when I remembered the video of me walking back to the motel room, the one I hadn’t watched.
With shaky fingers I opened the video. It was centered on the door of my motel room. For the first few seconds nothing happened. I thoroughly scanned the backgrounds and corners, making sure to search extra hard in the shadowy areas, but I couldn’t see the man anywhere.
Then he walked into center frame. This time he wasn’t hidden. He crept towards the door, his arms remaining eerily immobile as he walked, and when he got to the door, pulled a key card out and slipped inside. I gasped. When was this recorded?
That question was answered for me when a moment later I walked into frame, unlocked the door, and went in. It was from when I came back after finding the raccoon in the dumpster, less than two minutes ago.
I shivered. Suddenly, it was dawning on me that Cristina’s breathing sounded…different. It was just a little heavier and deeper than I remembered it being. Very slowly, I turned my head to look over at the other side of the bed and noticed that the lump under the covers seemed larger than it had before. I felt the air; it was thicker and wetter than I remembered it being and had a warm, almost metallic smell.
The body lying next to me wasn’t Cristina’s. I froze. What do I do? Dear God, what should I do now? Slowly, I sat up and pulled my legs over the side of the bed. I thought about turning the lights on, shouting for Cristina, trying to fight the stalker, but I had the gut feeling that she was beyond saving. Even if she was still alive, there was no way I could last more than a few seconds against this thing in bed with me. Whatever it was, it was built for hunting down humans and tearing them apart.
I casually mumbled “better take a shower” and crept over to the hall. Luckily the bathroom was right next to the front door.
Once I got in front of the bathroom door, I silently lunged for the front door, turned the lock as quietly as I could and tried to open it without making a sound. CLANG.
I stared in horror at the chain lock I had set when I came in. Idiot! I heard a rustle from the bed. The time for stealth was gone.
I yanked the chain out and swung the door open. In less than a second I was outside closing the door behind me and then bounding towards my car. I turned it on and peeled out without even checking to see whether my visitor had followed me.
I sped away from the motel towards the city and dialed 911.
At the police station, I waited for the cops to check out my room. When they came back, they asked to talk with me. I was led into the interrogation room, and they started to hit me with some accusatory questions. They said her body was ripped into pieces and strewn across the room, everywhere except the bed. Imagining myself in that room, totally oblivious to Cristina’s organs and tissue around me made me sick.
It soon became obvious that the police believed I killed her. I tried to convince them that there was someone else in my room, and told them there was video proof on my phone. I showed them the video that ANONYMOUS had sent me. They were intrigued, but still skeptical.
I was starting to get nervous that I wouldn’t return from my lame ass vacation for 10-30 years when something amazing happened.
Still in the officer’s hand, my phone got a notification.
ANONYMOUS would like to share a video.
Decline Accept
“That’s him, that’s the guy who’s been airdropping me stuff!” I said frantically. The officer raised an eyebrow. He hesitated, looked around, and after an agonizing pause accepted the video. They hid the screen from my face, but from his expression I could tell the video was something violent. All I could hear was an animal-like growl, heavy panting and a guttural human yell.
It wasn’t until after being cleared to leave and given my phone back that I watched the video. ANONYMOUS had filmed me leaving the parking lot of the motel, and then gone into the room and turned the lights on. The ‘thing’ was standing in the middle of the room, only a few feet from the camera. It stared at the camera and gave it a slow wave. Its slender fingers seemed to pulse with excitement, and the creature wiggled them elatedly. It smiled and its lips peeled back to reveal blood soaked teeth.
The room was covered in blood and body parts. There were intestines hanging off the lamp, what looked like a half-eaten liver soaking the office chair, teeth laid on the t.v. stand close enough to the camera to see that they were neat and white. I pictured him sucking them clean like cherry pits.
The most disturbing part of all was a big piece of skin that had been ripped off like a sheet and laid on the bed post by my side of the bed. In the middle of the skin was what looked like a belly button. I had been lying with my head right underneath Cristina’s drying stomach leather and never had a clue.
After the camera panned around the room, it focused back on the man. He stood there for a moment, his chest rising and falling rapidly, eyes wide and hungry. Then he took a lighting quick stride forward, and the camera turned toward the door. That is where the video ends. Watching it made me fear for ANONYMOUS’s safety, but I knew that he at least made it out healthy enough to make it to the police station.
Sometimes, when I’m alone and get the feeling I’m being watched, I open my airdrop options to see if ANONYMOUS is somewhere near me. I haven’t ever found him.
Earlier this morning while on the subway, I looked up and had a heart stopping shock. I was sitting at the end of one car and just happened to look through the window into the car behind us. There he was; the same creature that killed Cristina. The doors were still open and I almost took off running but… he wasn’t looking at me.
He was staring intently and smiling at a woman on the opposite row. Every few seconds he would lick his lips hungrily. I shuddered looking at his teeth because I couldn’t help but imagine them cutting into Cristina’s flesh, piercing through her skull and ripping her teeth out of their gums down to the root.
His prey had headphones in and was flipping through a magazine, totally oblivious to the terrible monster sitting just a few yards away from her. I took a picture through the foggy glass.
You can’t see the creature very well in the photo. But I can always circle him. Maybe she’ll have to zoom in, and she just might need to turn her brightness up all the way, but I’ll make sure she gets the message. I have no idea how to get the photo to her without drawing the attention of the creature, but I’ll figure it out. We’ll both figure it out. Wish us luck.

"Happiness comes from a perception of life. Life is a pursuit of singular moments, experiences and sacrifices. It is the limitations of this perception that make those moments possible. For such a limitation a sacrifice must be made, a sacrifice towards a perception of death."
Raanu was the boy who read these words out-loud to his mom and dad. He was in the hospital bed when he read aloud the last speech bubble in his comic book stack. He had read the entire series of Silver Swordsman, knew every adventure as though they were his own. His parents had denied him comic books, especially violent and strange ones like Silver Swordsman. They didn't understand the giant robots and mutants and suicidal immortals of the future. It was all very frightening and disturbing content and they had not let him have such stories.
That had changed when they discovered he had a rare malignancy in his heart that would result in his death within months. Raanu was not afraid. He told his parents that since he was going to die it would make sense to let him read comic books, even Silver Swordsman. In fact, it was the Silver Swordsman comics he was most interested in.
The stories began with the boy Raanu sitting by the water with his friend: a giant robot named Unit Three-Sixteen. Raanu was the youngest human on the planet, or one of the youngest. In the future everyone lived forever and it was rare for new people to be born. New people, children, were especially interesting and cared for by the other immortals. Thus, in a world attended by some mere hundreds of giant robots with super powers, Raanu was accompanied by his very own, personal giant robot.
He asked the robot about things like war and death, things that had become obsolete before the advent of the giant robots. In all of its wisdom it could do no more than define such things. Then people came to where Raanu and the giant robot were sitting. Across the water was a temple that controlled the flow of energy in their world. Energy generated by human emotions. As long as the world had existed in tranquility and harmony there was no pain or suffering of any kind.
Raanu and his giant robot watched as the people went into the temple and used its power to obliterate themselves. The lethean energies flowed outward and corrupted the giant robots. Only Unit Three-Sixteen was unaffected, because of its exact proximity when it all started. Unit Three-Sixteen was hit the hardest with the blast of awful energy and was knocked out by it and left with its emotitronics intact, more-or-less. The others of its race did not fare so well. The other empathicals rampaged and the horror escalated as they fed on the new and horrible energy from the humans.
It was Raanu who stood up to the machines and he died a hero. His sacrifice and courage activated Unit Three-Sixteen. The surviving humans made a weapon for the last of their defenders. Thus it became Silver Swordsman, as it did what had to be done. Of the entire giant race, only one remained, for that one had killed all of its own kind in defense of the humans. And for its efforts it became a symbol of oppression and destruction, as it now stood in place of all of its kind.
That was just the first issue of Silver Swordsman. His parents had originally confiscated it and forbade him to read any more. He was an obedient child and did not defy his mother or father. Even when his thoughts made him daydream of the story, he wished away his imaginings, and focused on schoolwork.
At night when his parents left the hospital he would lay awake and thank God he was dying. He no longer had to eat his vegetables, he no longer had to do any schoolwork and he got to read all of the Silver Swordsman comics. His parents hated the books he was reading but he loved them and so they allowed it.
As he dreamed: he went to the places he had seen in the stories. So vivid and full of color and detail. The amount of adventure and action was almost overwhelming. There were many passages with strange ideas in them, the thoughts and musings of the characters, so that he often had to ask his father what was meant.
At first, his father was very guarded about speculating on the meaning of the aggregate of concepts that the books frequently struggled with. Characters had very strange ideas about death, gratitude, love, time, regret, courage, justice, perseverance, immortality, healing, warfare and truth. In short, the heroes rejected the common understanding of all of these things and replaced them with strange new definitions.
Raanu's father, Mukherjee, was a philosophical man. On one hand he put his business first so that he could provide for his family. Otherwise, Mukherjee valued wisdom and understanding and was willing to ruminate to discover the truth about something.
He paid attention to his son's understanding of the characters and their world. In the context of the stories, everything they believed made perfect sense. To his son the characters appealed for a more careful perception of one's own life. To enter the world of Silver Swordsman was to realize that life is so precious and that the struggle to survive is what appraises the value of one's life.
After one hundred and thirty one issues the series ended. It ended with the last humans standing on the precipice of the universe in the path of an implacable force. Death was certain for the characters and Silver Swordsman. They had battled all throughout the stories against increasingly impossible adversaries. Then, as the quest neared completion, it was certain that all would be obliterated anyway, in the end.
It was confusing and scary and disturbing. The entire comic book series was, in fact, quite depressing. One by one the heroes all fell against enemies that could not be defeated. Even Silver Swordsman could barely stand against the villains and was usually beaten down rather than victorious.
Mukherjee asked the man at the comic book store about Silver Swordsman comics. What he was told made it all the more frightening. The reason the comics had ended was because the lead writer was now deceased. He was diagnosed with a rare malignancy in his heart and he had walked out into a cold Christmas night and sat down in the frost to die. This was all known to the guy at the comic book store, yet the comics themselves held a unique status among fans.
Silver Swordsman comics were already rare at the time they were published. Mukherjee had to pay a small fortune for the whole series. The comic book guy had asked him why he was so interested. He explained that these comics were an oddity. They were extremely violent and creepy and filled with strange ideas about how people should perceive their lives. Mukherjee looked at him and asked:
"Is all of that different from other comic books?" He asked.
"The opposite of other comic books. Of fiction, in-general, sir." The comic book guy explained carefully. "Comic books should make you happy, laugh, thrilled and make you want more. Silver Swordsman, isn't it just this guy's weird ideas? It deals heavily with suicide and he actually killed himself. I wouldn't let my kids read this stuff, I don't even want to read this stuff."
"My son is reading these books." Mukherjee said soberly. "They make him happy."
To this the man decided to respond professionally and to make no further comments. Another man in the comic book store walked over with Wonder Woman Volume Three. He knew Mukherjee's family and said:
"That man's son is Raanu and he is dying." The friend of Mukherjee said.
"Everyone who reads Silver Swordsman finds some personal connection to it." The comic book guy recalled.
The snow was falling outside his hospital window. Raanu sighed and opened issue seventy-one. There was something he wanted to check on. He had noticed that the darkness, named Umbraeon, was already creeping across the sky in the background before Svetlana waded into the Pool Of Time. This meant that there was more to Umbraeon's arrival. Raanu had suspected that Umbraeon was always growing before anyone had noticed. He had thought that in some silent and hidden corner of the story: the most terrifying and formidable opponent of-all was growing all-along.
Encouraged to search for more clues he did so. He discovered that in some panels the characters seemed to be speaking directly to him. He read those ones with greater care. They were instructing him to do as they did, to seek the places where the silence had taken form, to find and annihilate the shadows where they were growing like a cancer. His eyes widened as he realized and said out-loud:
"It's real."
And he grinned. In these stories, death was no more powerful than lies or pain, had no more authority than gratitude or justice. In the world of Silver Swordsman, death was an idea, an illusion. If the stories were all true then that meant that they were right about death. Which meant he need not die in vain.
Mukherjee saw that his son had not slept. While his wife had gone to get lunch he asked his son:
"Have the comics kept you awake?" He asked patiently.
"Yes, father!" Raanu said excitedly. "The comics are real! The stories are all true!"
"No." Mukherjee said. "They were written by a man who was sick. The truth of those stories is all sickness."
"Who is he father? Is he sick like me?" Raanu asked.
"He got sick just like you. He chose to let himself die. I am afraid of what his words are doing to you." Mukherjee was honest with his son.
"His words have taught me that death is not worth fearing. That it is more important to embrace the moment of life. He has taught me that when it ends, all that matters is what we left behind, what we did to make the world better while we were here. That it is evil to live a life of self-indulgence. That it was such an evil that will destroy the world if we do not change our ways. When I read these stories, father, it is like a mirror. It is like it is with you, talking to my own father about life and death, about stories and truth." Raanu explained without hesitation. He had learned much from the books. Mukherjee's fears were slaughtered by the shining sword of his son's beautiful words. The father began to cry in front of his son and then he apologized.
Of all the monsters and villains in the stories only one could be held responsible like a father. Svetlana's long lost father Arvil. He was a very important villain because he had promoted ignorance of both his family and his people. He was not a singular villain but rather the sum of his society. He was a famous poet and it was he that had started the group of people that had killed themselves and sparked the end of their world.
Raanu told his own father just how much he loved and appreciated him. He knew that his own father was the opposite of the character he had in mind. Mukherjee was the enemy of ignorance and he would do anything to protect his family or save his people. The boy wished that somehow his own father's face would appear in the stories to somehow guide the last surviving heroes and Silver Swordsman to a happier destiny. Maybe in the end they could save the universe from ultimate destruction. Raanu knew that is not how the story was supposed to end, but looking at his own father it felt possible.
A month later it was Christmas and a sort of darkness stood like a black hole in the sky. The street lights flickered and the trees twisted off the snow and wandered in search of robots to devour. Marauders shed their humanity to steal immortality and feathered dragons tore the snow filled skies. In a fever he could only recall his favorite moments, grinning and laughing. He would turn and tighten only to see his mom and dad watching and he would relax and smile for them.
It was snowing on Christmas night after his parents left. Raanu had grown very weak, but his unfading smile bore his parents to their rest. Silver Swordsman stood in terrible vigil over the boy like an angel.
"When it is time...to the Temple take me." Raanu told Silver Swordsman. "I must set things right in your world. I have a job to do there."
"I know, my boy. It is almost time." Silver Swordsman towered over him in the hospital room: time and space becoming less relevant with each passing moment. The whole place seemed to stretch to fit the giant robot and the snow was swirling everywhere, inside and out.
Then a kind of silence, a sort of stillness seemed to be holding it all as a snowglobe. There in his hospital bed lay his remains. He looked at them, at the stack of comics next to his body. Then he turned and saw that the wall was as though he were looking up out of water at a blue sky. He went into this, and the light left the room behind, and went with him, and it was him, he was the light.
He sat looking at his reflection in the still waters he had gone through to be here. The ground was level in all directions and the great Temple Of Humanity stood across from him where he sat at the Pool Of Time. Beside him was the giant robot Unit Three-Sixteen.
"I knew that this would happen. As soon as I died I came here. This is where I am supposed to be. I was just there to know why." Raanu stood up and proclaimed.
"Died?" Unit Three-Sixteen asked.
"That's right, you don't know anything about death yet." Raanu puzzled out-loud. He suddenly realized he was in issue number one of Silver Swordsman, the absolute beginning of everything. With a worried look he glanced over and saw that the Cyclists were coming. It wasn't too late to put a stop to everything bad that was going to happen.
"Those people plan to die inside the Temple Of Humanity. They will release a lot of negative anima at once. It will be the end of GAIA. The world will know nothing more than hunger and suffering and you will be the last of your kind." Raanu told Unit Three-Sixteen frantically.
"I can feel your fear, Raanu. What do I do?" Unit Three-Sixteen worried. It knew something was dreadfully wrong with the scene.
"Get me to them, quickly!" Raanu commanded. The giant robot obeyed him and lifted him to its shoulder and strode to the Temple Of Humanity. Raanu was placed on the path of the Cyclists to confront them.
"You should not be here, Raanu. You are just a child, you cannot understand." Arvil told the boy. He and the rest of the first wave of Cyclists stood in robes of patterns in black and white and many wore comedy or tragedy masks of opposing shades.
"I understand exactly what you are about to do. I've seen what happens, the world ends because of you. People hate you after this." Raanu pointed at them each.
"You don't know what it is like to live the way we have, for so long. It becomes meaningless. We need this, we need a final experience." Shatia spoke up in her high voice. She took off her mask and beheld her descendant. Like a little prince, she mused.
"What you are doing will destroy the world. I have had this final experience already. It only taught me that we are all meant for more, meant to do more, say more and feel more than we do. We live in ignorance, forging our own darkness and our own silence. You have made a death for yourselves in your minds and now you intend to inflict it on everyone." Raanu, like his father, could say the truth to someone without cowardice.
"How? How can you stand there and stop us?" Arvil felt his ancient resolve weakening. As a poet, it broke his heart to hear the plain truth. It was like a gleaming sword, cutting through the nonsense that he and his followers had invented.
"I will die over and over again, it seems, until this moment is dragged out into the light of day. There is a darkness behind every panel, a silence behind every period and a shadow over everyone's head. I know, I went back and read it all again to be sure. It was here all-along. It started at the very beginning with the very shadows you are casting now. By the end, only enough light is left in all the universe for one of the last people to say one last thing. Then it all goes to darkness and death, forever." Raanu recalled vividly.
"You would have us turn back. Go back to unending misery?" Shatia asked her great-nephew. She was one of the youngest among the Cyclists.
"Both are choices. One of these choices, I have explained, is a path that will start with your deaths and never end until the whole universe is dead." Raanu nodded.
"We have a right to die." Arvil protested.
"Svetlana meets you in the future, in the past before this happens, but she never finds out why you wrote Argosy, your most famous poem." Raanu was not afraid of Arvil's cowardice. He knew the man better than he knew himself.
Arvil willingly recited his poem to avoid the explanation:
"See now this plain of spoil,
Where cowed all Mans' toil,
To sit bemused without,
Thoughts belabored in drought,
So forth she clings to East,
Or North she turns to least,
But never strays her heart,
Not fallen since the start,
And plants her seed of truth,
The sun rises as proof,
Sacred words she has kept,
How the mighty have wept."
"So what does it mean? This?" Raanu tried not to smile when he saw he had broken the character Arvil. Arvil fell to his knees as he realized he had become the enemy of his own truth. It had not occurred to him until he was confronted with the truth laid bare and obvious. There was no shadow to hide his feelings within. Death would never be an escape from his self loathing, it would only be the proof of it. He himself became the mighty one weeping at the end.
"What have I done?" He tore off his robes and flung them away. He turned on his followers and screamed a damnation upon them for standing behind him. He walked through them and left them there. Without him, many of them did the same. Some left with their masks still on, unwilling to reveal who they were.
Raanu stood there alone with his giant robot. The Temple Of Humanity was operating at low power and the surge of excitement from the boy made the empathicals all around the world stand up and chuckle happily. The giant robots were genius artisans and sculptors and architects that had sat in boredom and decline for too long. Renewal lit them up with vitality and inspiration.
Overcome with a sense of purpose and triumph: he laughed.

​
Most importantly: the casting of Ariel obviously is the biggest problem with the production. And everybody can plainly see that, but not anybody is allowed to just say it, because of absurd and oppressive accusations and arguments, for example -
"Mermaids are mythological, they don't have a race, who cares if she is black now, you racists."
Spongebob Squarepants is not even half-human, yet if they suddenly painted him blue, everybody would obviously dissociate. Not because folks are prejudiced against blue, but because Spongebob would look like a freaking alien to us. Would you appreciate a brown or pink or white Winnie the Pooh more than the original? And does that make you a racist? Thank you.
We're very, very obviously not talking about "mermaid representation" and "being historically accurate," you morons, we're talking specifically about Ariel, a specifically established character in a specifically established story stamped in time as a classic. It's not race, it's basic association: red hair, floppy bangs, blue eyes, fair skin, green tail, period.
The only person talking about race is you, the person calling folks racist.
"Representation for blacks matters, stop being salty."
But you just yelled about how 'mermaids were mythological and that the element of race was not only irrelevant but an entirely stupid thing to associate with the character'...? So what is this angle supposed to be if not hypocritical? If her race does in fact matter, mythological or not, because representation does in fact matter, then that would mean it absolutely does in fact matter that you changed her race to begin with.
"Halle IS Ariel, she was born to play this role."
The number one and only prerequisite to meet while emulating a freaking cartoon character is the appearance. And everybody knows it, stop trying to triggegaslight innocent, unsuspecting audiences everywhere. Everything else is performance, wardrobe, direction, script, etc. Like what if I told you "Denzel Washington was born to play Johnny Bravo because he can do the voice well-ish enough"...? Would you be able to take me seriously? No? How about if I accused you of a hate crime?
"Nobody complained about Jasmine or Belle looking different!"
Are you stupid...? For one, they didn't look all that different.
a. Jasmine matched more or less the same as her cartoon counterpart, in appearance and in energy, only she was prettier and like barely one shade lighter; what's more, that was a fantastic singer and actress: and even so, YESSS, everybody complained, there was a collective Wilhelm fucking scream/race war until all of the idiots simmered the fuck down upon the revelation that the cartoon wasn't specifically Indian or Arabic or anything but a fictitious hodgepodge of both-ish loll and that the actress looked the part enough-ish, which didn't actually matter, because she wasn't even the star, Aladdin was, and they fucking NAILED him in recreation, NAILED him, and wasn't that so satisfying to witness as a viewer...? hm...?
b. Belle matched more or less the same as her cartoon counterpart- ONLY in skin and hair color and general cuteness or softness of face; she was a hideous dumpster fire compared to the cartoon, in appearance and in energy, and she was a horrific actress and singer; and yes, people complained like crazy... and no matter how hard they did and always will, it will actually still never be enough. She sucked for that role as much as this new girl does for Ariel.
But yeah: none of these bitches looked much different from their cartoon versions. What they did to Ariel is like... if you made the cookie monster pink and instead of cookies, he was into cupcakes.
"The bad reviews are coming from one source: racists."
No, you're the racist for saying so though. And a manipulative fucking asshole.
"You all . . ."
"You all" nothing, because I am not white, I am not a blue-eyed Danish redhead, many of us having this fit are not and have zero cultural or physical identification to Ariel. I am not defending myself and/or my people through Ariel, you're the only one doing that here, that is exactly why it is so impossible to get through to you with objective ass points lol. I am not racist against you and/or your people using Ariel as the tool to unleash my hidden racism demons, get it the fuck together you asshole, wtf. This is "personal" to me, only insofar as it toys with my childhood memories and it reminds me of my disdain for disney, the media, politics, and the way the idiot masses are so easily pit against each other through their transparent, haphazard, lazy brands of manipulation and insulting pseudo-representation. "You all" nothing when I'm trying to say "We all," wtf is the problem. These remakes mortify all of humanity, just let me say it. It's "BLM' all over again, when one time I accidentally said "ALM" because I wasn't up to speed yet and didn't know it was a patented hate crime, and I was nearly trampled to death for it. yet my neighbor who posted a black box on instagram was being paraded on society's shoulders as the second coming of MLK jr. like What the fuck kind of role am I supposed to play, can I just be myself and have people just figure I'm not a freaking psychopath or not? Can I just make honest observations without people assuming my stance has shit to do with my own race, gender, or anything personal? This shit is sick people. If you think it is wrong to change the race of established characters in reanimation, then that should apply to all races, all ways, otherwise, you are kinda racist, and/or if you think media representation is insanely important, then you should be fixated on creating original representation, at the very least, not using another culture's or thanking and defending the company that is actually using you for their representation. And if you think I am racist for fucking saying this, you have mental problems. That's it.
​
~.~.~
​
And then of course this girl is an abusive fucking bitch.
For example-
Halle and Disney:
"black mermaaaid! extry, extry! come get your black mermaid!! that's right, look at my skin color, you racists, look at all of these freaking racists and their backlash! all they see is color-> i'm BLACK! so let's talk about how important ariel's dreadlocks are to MY story in 15 interviews, and let's also talk about black girls who can now look up to me because i'm black! but it's not about race you guys! but like remember to go back to seeing in color again in time for when The Color Purple hits theaters too because i actually am being black in that one so don't mix them up okay? anyway: BLACK!"
Innocuous Interviewer Along the Way:
"so, black mermaid, you say?! how beautiful! cool! gorgeous voice! ariel incarnate! shining star, world peace, god bless you!"
Halle and Disney:
"WhaT?! how dare you see my skin color and say my skin color? cancel all racists! who told you i'm black!? who told you to notice and care?! i'm so oppressed you guys, look what i ~\endure*~ see this is exactly what i've been talking about during marketing since 2020 :( i'm black :( stop saying it though :( only me say it +* you see it, but no reminding me :( so racist :( okay anyway, as i was saying, mermaid dreadlocks are really important for my people, this is our roots, and i wish white people would stop complaining that my hair looks and acts different from that white girl's in their own culture's dumb culture-less original. mermaids are not real and neither is white culture, okay, everybody knows that, there's no such thing. they're being racist."
​
It's like, bitch:
- The Little Mermaid is fucking Nordic- Denmark, you asshole. Hence her physical features in the cartoon. Just because the entire plot isn't centered on her hardships as specifically a Danish chick it doesn't mean her culture is irrelevant, you know some people in the world are able to represent their culture through their art without making their own culture the fucking centerpiece of the art: you're supposed to take notes, not fucking steal their shit.
The greatest deviation from that in the cartoon is more or less that Eric's seaside looks more Mediterranean, which is fine because we were still being generally whitey-European- and we had a Jamaican crab for fucking flair. We weren't running off to the Caribbeans (?) of some Victorian 18th century (?) where a black female ruler somehow existed (?) in some insanely prosperous, productive Utopian royal-yet-peasanty bubble island (?) and adopted some *actually* danish-esque shipwrecked bastard who floated there on a raft (?) for the first of many times in his life now apparently made purely of milestones marked by what ship wrecked him at what age (?) and is now to be white king of this highly exclusively black village-empire-colony-dynasty (?) only if he can get past this millennial helicopter parent of a matriarch-monarch because that's her only order of business in all the land (?).
Like, you do understand how much this is not even *your* or anybody's representation, right...? You stole from a realer narrative to pedal your flimsier faker one while shouting at "white people" that "mermaids are mythological so nothing about anything matters except getting blacks on TV"...?
- And also hence her fucking name, Ariel a spirit of the air, or of the North/Nord; and hence the fucking meaning of the name a light or a lion of god, as in her light skin and/or her fiery red hair. NO, "lion king" and/or an untamed orange mane is not the fucking association, and even if it were, you already played in The Lion King! Remember?! You and Beyonce fucked that one up like five minutes ago! Give it a fucking rest get the fuck out of here you parasitic supremacist.
- And also: that poor interviewer was just graciously providing you a strong podium to continue speaking on your experiences of "racist backlash" if you wanted to, when you ran off to the headlines to speak on your experiences of "his racist backlash," when you obviously could have just simply done that on the show, in that safe space he literally just provided you for that literal reason as your ally not your abuser, clearly bitch. do you understand...? how demented ... ?
​
Fucking nobody even cared about your race in the first place,
the masses mostly cared about the basic associative image of the basic ass drawing done thirty years ago and has thus obviously just naturally cemented itself as an intensely nostalgic icon.
You brought race into this, so then FINE:
EVEN on the level of your racially charged and biased freaking playing field:
you're still the only one in this equation who is a flagrant fucking racist, because YES actually, this icon most definitely is already rooted in a specific culture's set of creations and unique representation,
and we didn't even see it that way or think of it like that,
until you fucking forced us down here to witness your ridiculous, hypocritical claims!
You forced a whole category of demographics to go up in arms to have to defend themselves as well as a whole established culture there when you literally:
a. claimed racial ownership of their classic,
b. insisted "white people have no culture,"
c. insisted the "color of the mermaid didn't matter,"
d. insisted the "color of the mermaid being black though did matter,"
e. labeled folks who saw this paradox "racist" without a second thought,
f. and then psychologically/verbally attacked/alienated everyone based on your:
i. inflamed entitlement,
ii. shameless ignorance,
iii. false empowerment,
iv. capacity to be so easily manipulated by disney,
v. and blind racism. like against everybody.
Literally, from start to end of this weird conquest of yours.
​
Leave fucking classics alone!
If you switch them up just to float your own culture's propaganda,
I am going to make fun of you and your culture, lol,
And I am going to enjoy it, and I am not even a racist,
And doing so wouldn't make me a racist.
As I said, it would make you the racist.
Because wtf are you doing repainting narratives and characters.
​
Don't dangle irrelevant shit in people's faces,
Otherwise people are going to mock your irrelevance.
That's it.
Your culture's not stupid,
But you look stupid right now here in this doing this shit.
And yes, it's funny and it's fun to laugh.
What else is there to even do?
You replaced all the actual entertainment value with this shit lol.
THIS is the entertainment I've extracted from it thus,
This, writing this, hating you, is fucking fun,
More fun than digesting your product, whose fault is that?
Be grateful I'm still this engaged and part of it.
This is still a great contribution to your stupid agenda thing.
You're welcome, as usual.
But it's not more fun than just enjoying things labeled as
"Your personal favorite childhood memories,"
in this case to me, "The Little Mermaid,"
so fucking quit it.
This was me coping, and good on me for making a tragedy fun,
But let's not exploit this valve that is my soul lol.
​
Now please go ahead and collect your freaking ethnicities, all of you, every last fucking culture out here, and leave the plot of all of our already established films alone.
(yeah Aladdin Remake, i'm also talking to you, and you hang back after class, because i have another lecture for you specifically)
​
Create new films for representation if that's what you want!
Don't infiltrate the homes of unsuspecting families just trying to eat popcorn and fart and laugh at their old favorite hits together.
​
THIS was the first era in my life where I was unable to post a FILM review onto Google Reviews, Rotten Tomatoes, and Reddit for a film. That's all I've been doing for like a decade lol, all of a sudden: CENSORED. And this was the first era in my life where I MADE DAMN SURE not to use curse words or ANY kind of term or even fucking tone that might be anything darker than neutral. I mean... all of this pent up frustration now, and guess who I am going to take it out on? The face of this entire debacle: that black girl and that white film director.
THIS was a serious moment where multiple credited sites like imdb and rotten tomatoes "updated" their "rating formats" and openly filtered/cherry-picked top reviews repeatedly like fighting against currents despite how aware the people have been of it. That is so fucking unsettling.
And they are doing this claiming it's because "all these black-hating racists keep review-bombing"
WHILE the number one movie on our planet right now is about a black spider-man lmao, yes, a literally equally black-washed white fictitious character-- during the same era where the WHITE spiderman has a black MJ, to boot.
See? Nobody cares. If anything, everybody's in love.
And this black mermaid movie is actually number two, at least in america, so great, wonderful, people sincerely gave fucks enough like all this to go watch it! Plus, this singer, along with actress Zendaya for example, are like reigning supreme over their entire generation as we all applaud genuinely and throw roses, so like just mother fucking shut the fuck up already. what white movies are even out!? Fast and Furious part 600 is all people of color and that was number one for like a month before all this, what racism? where racism? how, when, who, what the fuck. Nobody is review-bombing a fucking thing, this remake just happens to suck really hard, the girl happens to be a horrible actress and a very evidently, observably miscast dullard, especially because that one singular image of that one cartoon character was not to be tampered with, plus too many people are insulted by the whole pandering thing.
The End.
​
So my review of this freaking sham is therefore:
I believe this moment in history will be taught in history classes to display an era where an entire culture was racist without even knowing it, whilst accusing itself of being racist in a whole other way for a whole other reason allegedly concerning the miscasting of a mermaid cartoon, almost as if consciously to distract itself from understanding how inherently racist it itself just fucking was; during this chaos of utter confusion, obviously puppeteered by the media, the media took further advantage by pitting these idiots all against each other to make money for their new cartoon film and/or continue laundering blood money as they do through the clogged vessel that is Hollywood, as well as you know, harvest the globe of their hateful, confused, stressed-for-no-fucking-reason energy, vampires that they are, ensuring humanity at large is just replaying the same thirty-odd years on loop on loop over and over unto infinity in a downward spiral toward hell for these demons to continue leeching off us until, I don't know, God decides to do shit about it and set us all free.

1. Mihawk might have the ability to literally see very far: Real life hawks are known to see things from a 100 feet away very clearly. There are little clues that suggest Mihawk might be capable of a similar feat. He was able to follow Kreig all the way to the east blue, he also saw Shanks camping on that island, then finally on Marineford he said he wanted to test the real distance between him and whitebeard who appears to be standing right in front of him.
2. The power of the yonko were revealed before they were formally introduced: Back on episode 155 when Rockstar was first seen, he was a 94 million bounty head. This means Shanks had an errand boy who is as notorious as Franky Shogun after Dressrosa.
3. Buggy might be hiding a serious potential: He was a kid fighting against grown men in the roughest sea imaginable. Not just ordinary men either but the cream of the crop in the pirate business. He was different from Momo or Hiyori because he was a pirate apprentice, they are left to fend for themselves. His latest feat on chapter 1082 really reinforces this idea.
4. If the strawhats were on the Marineford war, they'd be the weakest crew in there.
5. Law doubted Drake from the very beginning. In their debut on Saboady, Drake stepped in between Killer and the Mad monk saying that if they want to fight each other they should do it in the New world. But Law's response to that was very interesting, he asked Drake how many men have he killed.
This didn't make much sense back then but after the reveal of Drake being a spy in 956 and adding the information that Law looked up to a double agent in his younger days, it would all fall into place.
6. Garp's nameless attack is as strong as Luffy's Elephant Gun. You might actually even argue that theyre stronger because when Garp fought Chinjao he was in his prime unlike when he fought Luffy.

I am running a 2 character solo campaign based on 2 characters that have been floating my head for a while. I am not playing in the Ironlands but my own homebrew continent/world of Lysea.
Lets meet the two characters: Aeron Kytel, Nyrian, inquisitor of Glowstone. E:2, H:1,I: 1, S: 2. W:3.... Assets: "Elf" (all characters are human, but due to the nature of the world, Nyrians are close enough), "Rogue" (Eventually Inquisitor path), Archer (primarily an archer), Scry (works slightly differently - hard to explain, but it will be clear in gameplay)
and his parner Jorella Marr, clerical investigator, Glowstone native, E:1, H:3, I: 2, S:1, W:2, Hound, Paladin, Skirmisher, "Interrogator"
"Interrogator" = "Charlatan" bg.
The main detective is good at gathering information while the other is better at interrogation or compeling people to speak. Its kind of a sherlock holmes/watson situation.
Character Backgrounds:
Aeron Ketyl Aeron is the chiefson of the chieftess of Nyr, on the northern peninsula north of Glowstone where he currently resides. After his betrothed was killed five years prior, on their wedding day, he left due to the shoddy nature of the investigation into Alyssia's death. He, himself, was forbidden to investigate himself as she had apparently fallen into the Nyr Canyon and it was deemed dangerous. While it was ruled an accident, he is not satisfied with that answer. While he does believe she is dead, he believes there is more to the story. Since then, he could not reside in Nyr anymore and left his homeland behind. Technically, due to Nyrian tradition and law, he still holds the title of chiefson, but he does not play into it or use it to his advantage.
Not one to stay idle, he joined the Glowstone Academy for Inquisitorious and graduated two years prior as a Jr. Inquisitor. He only recently was promoted to Inquisitor when Jorel Marr tells him of a recent kidnapping in the High Quarter of Glowstone City, where the rich and powerful reside....
BACKGROUND VOW: Learn the truth about what happened to Alyssia (Epic - this may not even have clues right off. I know what happened, as due to novel planning, I had already planned and detailed it out and I know that the answers come later in the over arcing story...note: depending on what happens with random roles. this game may take place in an "alternate universe" to my novel story. Its kind of cool to play these characters through a different path).
Background Bonds -
Senator Markus Bennin - current Speaker of the Senate, met when the man was only a jr Senator. They are friends, and Markus can occasionally pull some strings.
Marian - Alyssia's younger sister. She is his only real connection back home. Marian made him swear before he left to someday come back to find answers to her sisters death.
Inquisitor Chief Boris - Chief of the Glowstone inquisitors
Jorella Marr Jorel always had a way with words, even when living on the street. She was always close to her older brother growing up, as her parents had been killed and they had nothing. However, when she turned eighteen, her older brother, Steven, kicked her out of their small home. He had met someone and didnt have the resources to split with both.
Betrayed and desperate, she wandered the streets. Prostition is illegal in Glowstone, at least on the streets, and she didnt want to join one of the few brothels that belonged to one of Sthe seven families. She had heard that for taking one in, they contracted them to a massive debt that was hard to get away from.
She had no interest, so she turned her words towards deceit and lies, scamming many people out of coin with false charities, fake goods, and other shenanigans. She soon happened to attempt to scam the wrong man - Chief Boris of the Glowstone Inqusitorius. She was arrested on the spot and brought down to the barracks for interrogation and incarceration. It was her luck that Grand Paladin, Vincent Montroy, had been in. Or maybe not luck as she learned eventually that the church had heard of her plight and offered her a chance to join the convent and turn her gifts towards the light of Korriander and God. She accepted, at first, to stay out of jail.
But she learned that life was soon busy and constant but she did her duties, and soon she became a member of the clergy herself, becoming an investigator of any threats against the church itself. Her first real investigation was given to her only recently - a strong donor towards the church went missing suddenly out of the High Quarter. and that while she would investigate, she would need the help of an inquisitor. That was when she ran into Inquisitor Ketyl, hoping to come to a quick conclusion to the disappearance...
BACKGROUD VOW: To create solid infrastructure to help the poor of Glowstone. (FORMIDABLE)
Background Bonds:H
Steven: since she has joined the church they have somewhat reconnected.
Vincent Montroy: now retired as head of the Glowstone church, the Grand Paladin and her have a special bond.
3rd, ill decide in game.. Other notes: She has two minor vows that have no bearing on the game mechanically - Chastity (by choice, not required by the church) and a vow of loyalty to the church. They of course be broken and they would have story choices though not mechanical choices.
That is what I have so far.

Amid a galaxy of brutal chaos there are stories to be told, tales of valor and justice, of fear and despair. But amid these stories are the guttering flames of adventures untold, the potential for a universe of entertainment and savage joyous fun. The Oblivion Cycle embodies just this kind of crafted chaos, creating the potential for creative exploits and raucous tales. If you are new to the TOC setting feel free to join the community at TheOblivionCycle to check out some of the background lore or to discuss themes with other readers. I thank you all for your support and continued willingness to read, as always, Please Enjoy!
+ Next Part +
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A dark planet turned slowly in the void bathed in the light of an old yellow star far past its prime. The planet was old, unlike the countless beings that scurried across its blasted surface. From the vantage point of space far above, the gigantic craters that covered its surface were painfully apparent. Some terrible bombardment had nearly torn the planet in two sometime in its ancient history.
These were the thoughts foremost on the mind of the vast entity that observed the world from the depths of a large misshapen ship of truly gargantuan proportions. The ship orbited the planet far enough away to be unseen, a truly difficult task due to its almost moon-like size.
Deep in the ship’s core, a consciousness woke fully. This being had slumbered for millennia as they waited for the ship’s more automated systems to bring them to something interesting. As they awoke this entity checked the ships logs, two thousand years of reports were absorbed and compiled in mere millincrements such was the being’s incredible processing power.
They stretched mentally, running their consciousness throughout every lesser ten of the ship's millions of greater tens of circuits and wires. It had been centuries since they had last woken for more than a few increments, it was a good feeling.
The ship’s computer communicated with them. “Master Neel, It is good to have you with us.” the computer said nonverbally. The communication happening instead as a base impression across his many connections to the system all at once.
Neel observed the planet remotely using some of the vast worldship's many external sensors. After a few moments of observation Neel inquired the computer. “Have we traveled to this planet before?”
The computer replied quickly “I do not believe so, it bears passing resemblance to a planet we visited in the far past. But it can't be the same planet.” the computer concluded.
Neel frowned and then decided to exit his stasis chamber. The heavily shielded inner sanctum of the ship was a mess of electrical conduits and databanks that held his vast intellect when the ship was underway. Using faster than light means of propulsion could damage many of the curiosities in his vast collection and so for many tens of millions of greater increments he had traveled the cosmos slower than the speed of light.
While slow it was a deliberate action to protect him from the watchful eyes of the obliterators. The destroyers commonly kept watch over the cosmos and were known to eliminate those they could not contain or control. Neel had no wish to be destroyed and so took their time getting around for the sake of stealth. Even the destroyers would be unlikely to detect a single ship not breaking the natural laws in a vast and ever expanding universe.
Disengaging their mental locks, Neel disconnected from the artificial sanctuary and into their physical vessel. Their vessel was an artificial body of sorts, fashioned in a form that Neel found pleasing.
Their vessel was very tall with six manipulating tentacle-like metal arms and a multitude of pointed insect-like legs. Their face was a mess of tubes and wires with no discernible features other than the five bright green glowing eyes that stared out at the world around them intensely.
Neel’s consciousness settled down into the large body like it was a comfortable bed, an electronic sigh passing through them as they disconnected from the ship.
Neel started their vessel’s internal vacuum generators. Devices of their own design that drew electrical power directly from the quantum fluctuations of the universe. Quite a simple thing really, they must seem remarkable to those not nearly as versed as them in the nature of the universe. But Neel was well versed indeed, they knew the purpose of it all, and the dark knowledge often made them wish they had never discovered it.
Turning their attention back to their muted surroundings Neel activated the bridge’s lights with a thought. The ship was a part of them, though simultaneously separate. Together they made a complete entity, though Neel admitted that it was sometimes less distracting to be on their own instead of bonded to the Preserver. That was the name he had chosen for his worldship upon its completion. He had no memories of the event, or of how it had been built. Neither did the Preserver, instead Neel’s earliest coherent memory was that of light. Blinding light.
A star exploding and the ship jumping into emergency compression drive to escape the blast. They had arrived many light years away damaged and broken from the violent energies that had lashed the ship. But they had survived.
Neel scuttled across the deck and to one of the automated steering consoles. They double checked the ship’s course for accuracy and were satisfied to see no inherent issues.
Next they walked though the ship for a time to get to the records hall. They could have zipped there almost instantly with a thought, but they had always enjoyed the action of taking their time. They had a nearly infinite amount of it after all.
The Preserver chimed at them as they walked. “If you are going to the records hall to check the data I can give you access here and save you the trouble Master Neel.” The disembodied voice said in a modulated tone and frequency.
Neel waved a series of arms towards one of the many wall mounted sensors that the ship used to see and replied “Why? What would be the purpose of walking if not to enjoy the walk. I know you could have forwarded the data to me directly on the bridge, but there is a simplistic pleasure to taking one’s time. How many times have I told you that old friend.”
The ship was silent for a few increments as Neel scuttled down dimly lit metal passageways and through dusty hatches. They shook their head in a strange yet familiar motion as they took in the state of the ship. It was dirty, grimy almost.
Neel paused by a strange bundle of filaments and tested them with a single flexible manipulator digit. Plucking them curiously Neel found they seemed to be organic. In fact as they touched them they noticed a small and curious creature skuttle out of the dark in the direction of the disturbance. Delighted at this new and fascinating discovery they coaxed the small creature out into the light.
They observed it closely, zooming in on its features while scanning it in multiple electromagnetic spectrums. Neel found that the creature seemed to fluoresce in the ultraviolet spectrum, its small body covered in swirling organic patterns. It must be able to see into the ultraviolet spectrum Neel mused, otherwise what possible purpose could such patterning serve?
Reaching into a recess in their body they produced a specimen stasis capsule. Carefully scooping up the creature, they activated the micro stasis field generator and the small curiosity seemed to freeze in place. Replacing the container they then turned and continued along the corridor making a mental note to return and analyze the filaments more closely at a future time.
It took a little longer than Neel remembered to reach the great library, which made sense as the Preserver was constantly in flux. They entered the room and slowed to a halt. It always hit them when they entered into the massive space for the first time after a lengthy hibernation. The room was lit with bright yellowish lights high in the cavernous ceiling. The walls were covered in shelves and databanks, not a single square length was bare of some form of data storage medium.
Neel walked in amongst the towering shelves and ran their fingers along the uncountable thousands of books, manuscripts, scrolls and data crystals stored within small stasis cabinets. Hidden inside this sanctum was Neel’s life’s work, the compiled data of tens of thousands of worlds, millions of species and a billion years of searching the universe for something more.
Sometimes when the ship was traveling the void between stars Neel would come and spend years here, just absorbing the ancient knowledge. But today they were looking for something specific. Moving along to one of the many wall mounted dataports, they inserted a spike like digit from the end of a flexible tendril. The full enormity of the vast library exploded into their conscious mind, only their prodigious intelligence keeping them from being overwhelmed by the sheer quantity of data.
Searching for a while they found the folder they were looking for and accessed its location. Neel was in luck, it was remote accessible meaning they wouldn't have to traverse kilometers of this labyrinth to find the data. While that was usually an enjoyable experience, Neel found that their curiosity was overwhelming their patience.
The data filled their mind and Neel saw a planet spinning tranquilly in their mind's eye. The planet that bore a striking similarity to the one they now orbited, in fact, comparing the star logs and accounting for drift, the constellations were the same too. That proved it, they were in fact in the orbit of Ixninth, the evolutionary homeworld of the peaceful humbub.
Neel cocked their head, that was odd. The last time they had been in contact with the humbub their planet was nearing a full scale type one civilization. Full planetary control was theirs and they had taken the first tentative steps out into their solar system with a few far flung colonies and outposts in the orbit of the outer planets.
Now there was nothing, no evidence of the star realm they had once ruled. Something must have happened while Neel had been traveling through the cosmos. Something no doubt related to the strange crater-like formations on the planet’s surface.
Neel scanned the other planets in the system and found that most bore evidence of similar impacts, a few of the smaller moons seemed to have been obliterated entirely. Just the drifting charred remains in orbit of their scarred planets.
They addressed the computer once more verbally. “Preserver, we have indeed visited this system before. It is the humbub’s home system.”
The ship spoke through their implant, the disembodied voice cool and calm while it discussed topics of annihilation. “It would seem some sort of natural cataclysm must have befallen them then. There is evidence of incredible kinetic bombardment. Perhaps a rogue black hole disrupted the outer debris fields?’ the computer speculated blandly.
Neel looked back to the images of the systems battered planets. “I believe something terrible has happened here, are you sure there is no evidence of foul play? No signs of void conflict?”
They began to walk out of the library and towards the main atrium. The Preserver asked “Are you telling me to scan for debris or asking if I had already done so?”
Neel paused and apologised “Yes, I am sorry old friend. You have of course anticipated my question and scanned the area for wreckage. I can postulate based on your silence that you did not find any evidence to support the claim?”
Neel started walking again as the ship confirmed their observation. “I will of course continue to scan the area in case of potential hostile threats, but I do not expect to find anything of note. It looks like the act of a hostile universe, not the acts of barbaric lifeforms.”
Neel nodded again, this time entirely for their own benefit. That is about what they had been expecting anyways, if the growing theory in their mind was correct then they would likely find no evidence of foul play at all. At least, not in the conventional sense.
Perking up a little their green eyes shone bright as a new idea struck them. “Preserver, scan the main planet. Look for any signs of technology or ruins of technology. I will get to the bottom of this situation one way or another.”
The computer replied “Already started when it became clear to me you were set on this investigative action. I can report with ninety five percent certainty that there are no technological ruins on the planet. There is a large and well preserved ruin in the upper hemisphere. Would you like a scope on it?”
Neel waved at the air and replied “Yes, yes of course. Let me see what you have found.”
In their mind they saw the feed from one of the massive ship’s many outward facing telescopes. On the current one they saw it swivel towards the planet. Enhancing the image it zoomed in until Neel could almost count each blade of grass on the ground. In front of their very eyes was a large collection of half buried structures. While they did not look technological in origin, any clue to a history undiscovered was a good clue.
“Good work my friend, I will have to make sure we pull a flyby on a blue hypergiant giant so you can recharge your entanglement drives. You earned it.” They spoke to the Preserver in fondness.
The ship answered in a much more subdued manner “That would be appreciated Neel. My compression generators have been a bit chilly of late. I assume you will want to venture to the surface personally? May I suggest an assortment of weapons?”
Neel waved a hand as they entered the vast and colorful main atrium. It was only a few kilometers from the bridge, but it was a sight well worth the walk. That coupled with the fact that it connected directly to the small hangar bay where the many parasite ships were stored.
Neel walked across the room to the hangar and entered one of the small single occupant shuttles. The Preserver spoke once more in their mind. “If you are intent on going down to the surface would you at least let me launch an orbital observation platform to assist you?”
Neel paused at the controls and then said “Yes, might as well. You never know what’s going to happen in the future, that's what makes living in the present so exciting.”
***********
Jrax woke with a satisfied stretch, today was the day. He had been busy excavating the ruins of the forbidden zone in secret for almost a full year now. Only Zieve knew he was here, and the young man was unlikely to turn him in as he was just as interested in the mysteries of the ancients as he was.
Jrax stood to his feet and twisted at the waist in a futile attempt to crack his lower back. Unsuccessful he looked around, he couldn't see Zieve anywhere, usually the young man was out here before he had even had a chance for his morning zalv. The comforting warmth of a fresh cup of the dark orange liquid was a better wake up than anything else he had yet to discover. He had shown the benefits of drinking fresh zalv to a few of his colleges but it had yet to fully take off. Something about the dried and powdered fruit gave him a zest for life and alertness that was addictive in its effectiveness, and a little addictive in general.
But that was not the important reason he was here. He put a small pot of the mixture on the boil as he pulled his notebook out of his waist pouch. The small leather bound manuscript contained everything he knew of the ancients and their strange ways of life.
According to the few tablets and inscriptions he had so far recovered, the ancients lived in the void and traveled this strange realm of nonexistence in vast ships of solid metal. Why they would have needed to be made of metal made no sense to him. Surely wood would have been much lighter and cheaper? Maybe it was a style thing, from what he could gather the ancients made almost everything out of metal. Such was their vast power and wealth they were able to extract metal from the void itself.
This had always sat ill with him, everyone knew of the void, the space outside of reality. But surely they couldn't do such things as the void was empty, wasn't it? Perhaps the great teachings warning of the demons that lurked in the void were false after all. It was said that the void used to be full of life, an infinite world to build upon. One day the demons had come from beyond the realms of the humbub and devoured all that existed without till at last they rained fire and death upon Ixninth. The celestial realms of the humbub had been reduced to ashes and the survivors fled their metal cities in terror as they were consumed by the angry earth.
He shook his head. The mythos of their people was a fractured thing, handed down largely through word of mouth by millennia of terrified priests who had no real understanding of what they should be so afraid of.
He knew, it had been a hard truth to swallow but in his studies of the forbidden ruins he had made discoveries. Discoveries like the identity of their ancient destroyers.
They were not demons at all, they just looked like them, their bodies twisted and monstrous, their hunger for destruction nearly insatiable. They killed for fun and destroyed the remains, the fact that they hadn't killed all of the ancients was a miracle likely attributed to the paranoia of certain individuals. Places like these ruins had been ancient refuges to them, structures buried far into the guts of the mother earth called bunkers. An affront on nature, but necessary for the survival of their race.
It had taken thousands of years from what he had been able to gather before the planet was once more survivable on the surface. They left their ancient bunkers and found that all that once had been was no more. They had begun again.
Jrax was happy to be alive, especially knowing some of the struggle that his ancestors must have gone through just to survive. He put thoughts of such things out of mind and busied himself combing his fur. It wouldn't do to get mangey knots from a lack of self attention, he was a respectable scholar afterall.
His snout crinkled in a small snarl as he thought of Primo Haxix, the premiere leader of the Church of Brox in his home city of Broxix. The man was a devout follower of Brox’s teachings, and his most severe hurtle to spreading the truth of things. The closeminded man refused to see reason.
Done with his morning grooming he pulled on his open fronted work shirt, the rough fabric a little itchy against his fur but necessary to protect him from biting insects and the sun. It was hot near the ruins, the lack of vegetation one of the reasons the Primo called the land cursed. From what he had found it was no more cursed than any other piece of land, it had something to do with things called water concentrators he had discovered. He didn't understand the concept fully, but it seemed that the area was perpetually dry like the Neeix Desert to the south. A strange concept but it certainly explained why nothing would grow there.
Putting on his sandals and grabbing his excavation kit he slung the bag over his shoulder and started out of camp. He dodged around and through a thick copse of trees, his camp hidden from view in order to protect it from fanatics and the church’s spies. The area around the ruins was constantly under surveillance, he had been spotted a few times and chased but luckily his identity had never been uncovered.
He checked that the coast was clear and then made a quick transition to the bushes a few dozen feet away. Sighing as he didnt hear the telltale sounds of pursuit he continued on. The pack was heavy but he was undeterred.
Normally traveling alone into the wilderness would be tantamount to suicide, the many ferocious predators of their homeworld converging on a lone individual, but he was unafraid. The ruins protected him, some sort of aura seemed to surround the area that deterred the predators from approaching. He had read of it on the inscriptions, it was called a protection grid in the ancient texts that adorned the walls of the ruin, but he had yet to truly parse what it meant.
Whatever it was he was grateful for it as it allowed him to work in peace without constantly having to watch his back against attack from the abominations the demons had left behind.
He walked along the narrow and hidden path he had forged through the dense undergrowth towards the ruins. He shook his furred head, Zeive was probably already there. The young man was always excited to help him make some new discovery or ancient find. Yes, there was nothing to worry about.
Almost as soon as he told himself that he had nothing to worry about he tripped and landed hard on the soft sandy soil. Crawling to his feet he heard the unmistakable sounds of clanking armour plates and was soon surrounded by church soldiers. Resplendent in their brown leather greatcoats and shining steel breastplates.
“Oh..” Was all he said, a plethora of steel spear points at his throat.
Another sound met his ears and he looked behind him. From the path he watched a magnificently maned man stroll towards him, crimson cloak over his brushed leather overcoat covered in fine gold buckles. It was Primo Haxix, his biggest detractor and the most powerful person in all of Broxix.
Primo Haxix strode to him and laughed, a thoroughly nasty sound, devoid of mirth or joy. “Wow, I knew it had to have been an ignorant son of a demon to have crossed into the forbidden zone. But you? You have got to be the dumbest intellectual I have ever met. Clap him in irons, bring him to the fortress of Brox.” The ostentatious humbub then strode away regally as if they cared no more for his welfare, and they likely didn't. Jrax heard the unmistakable sound of a frourn drawn carriage, likely to carry the Primo’s lazy ass back to the capital.
One of the soldiers produced a set of iron clamps which they applied to his wrists, the metal pinching his arm hair painfully and he chirped in discomfort.
“Follow me or I will make you follow.” The man said gruffly.
Jrax did as he was told. No reason to get a beating on top of his arrest.
The soldiers led him through the brush and out to the main roadway. The road was simple hard packed earth, but it served its purpose. Leading right to the edge of the forbidden zone.
He snorted as they led him back along the road towards Broxix. It was a large city, almost fifty thousand inhabitants lived and died within an afternoon’s hike of the ruins and yet they knew nothing of their own history. The Church taught that the demons had destroyed their ancestors and all they had built before Brox took them into the belly of Ixninth for their protection. But that wasn't entirely true. It wasn't the whole truth in any event, and in Jrax’s opinion that was tantamount to lying.
They marched for an hour before the leader of the troop called a halt near a small roadside inn that catered to pilgrims. He looked at Jrax and said gruffly “We are stooping for refreshment, would you like some water?”
Jrax nodded suspiciously and the man gestured to a few of the others to go into the building.
Jrax watched as the trio of so-called holy soldiers kicked the door open and rushed in, swords drawn. Screaming and the sound of crashing furniture could be heard and Jrax chirped angrily but was kept from remarking by a threatening glare from the troop leader.
After a few more minutes of this the sounds ceased and the three soldiers exited carrying food and wine as well as a small bladder of water.
The wine and dried meat morsels were shared about as the troop leader approached with the water and stopped. Staring at Jrax, the man proceeded to unstop the bladder and pour its contents into the dirt as his feet.
When the skin had been completely emptied the troop leader laughed curly and gestured at the small mud puddle. There you go blasphemer, drink up.
A chorus of nasty chuckles sounded from all about as Jrax just stood his ground.
The leader stopped laughing, his face turning from savage mirth to rage as he drew his sword and pointed it at Jrax’s throat.
“I said drink! Do it now or so help me Brox I’ll…” the large armoured man started to say but Jrax cut him off smugly.
“Or you will what? You can’t kill me or you would have already. No, Primo Haxix wants my punishment to be public.” Jrax spat. “He wouldn't let a little pissant like you take his triumph away from him, so no. I will not drink, nor will I eat unless it is something tasty and nutritious. I would rather starve than allow such ignorant fools to debase me.” he said with a smug chortle.
The now enraged troop leader drew his sword in a threatening manner and Jrax felt his knees shake slightly in fear. But he stood tall and firm, not allowing his terror to show on his face. He would show these zealous assholes what it meant to truly serve a higher purpose, even if it meant he would die anyways.
The leader lowered his weapon and sneered. “Let's see how smug you are when we take you to the chamber of repentance. We will see who gets the last laugh.” the man said angrily. “Okay, form up and move out you lazy sons of snurlg. We need to reach the Fortress of Broxix by mid afternoon.”
Jrax was shoved by one of the soldiers behind him who growled “Get moving scum.”
He shook his head sadly, the road was long and the sun was high. But he would walk with shoulders straight and head held high, for he knew his cause was just.
​
End of Part 1
==End of Transmission==

Looking for Around the Horn?
Hey Sportsfans — it's time for Week 10 of baseball Power Rankings: Happy first Monday of June, everyone! Hopefully you've paid your rent, paid your bills, and sent us our monthly check to keep your favorite team higher than they deserve. Have a fabulous Monday!
Every voter has their own style / system and the only voting instructions are these:

"To an extent determined individually, you must take into account how strong a team is right now and likely to be going forward. You must, to some degree, give weight to the events and games of the previous week."

TRANSPARENCY: This link will show you who voted each team where and has added neat statistics!
New Voter Chance: Are you a fan of the Dodgers? We received tepid response last week and are still looking for a new Dodgers voter. I'll be reaching out to Dodgers shortly to help with the search. -- apologies for the delay. Check out this link to see how to apply!
If something is a little messed up, feel free to pester me let me know.
Total Votes: 29 of 29. Technically a perfect vote?

#		Team	Δ	Comment	Record
1		Rays	0	Why replace writers with AI when the Rays bullpen has proven to be the most cost efficient way to generate drama in 2023? The team doing so well makes it hard to complain, but Jason Adam also makes it so easy, yanno? Happy pride month y'all! In other positive news, Glasnow has looked good if not otherworldly in his return, he'll look to continue finding his groove. Yandy Diaz also hit a quintessential little league homerun, which should make everyone everywhere happy!	42-19
2		Rangers	0	hahahahaha offense go brrrrrrrt. Big week this week with a series against the struggling Cardinals and then the big weekend matchup against the Rays. Ending another month on top of the division and we are having fun!	38-20
3		Braves	0	Horrid start to the week by losing a series to the Oakland "Triple A's" (don't @ me...I heard their own annoucers call them that), but we salvaged the week in AZ thanks to Eddie Rosario playing OUT OF HIS MIND and capping off our weekend with a go ahead Slam in the top of the ninth on Sunday. We are banged up on the hump, but are pushing through. If this is a rough patch, I am happy. First up this week is the Mets. A very important series to get it all back on track.	35-24
4		Astros	+2	Crucial series win against the Angels to finish off the weekend. Saturday's game was a lot of fun, aside from the top of the 7th inning - but we don't talk about that. Let's talk instead about how Alex Bregman's grand slam, 4-walk day can be 100% attributed to his wife throwing out the first pitch (it was Girls Night Out) and Bregs subsequently skipping the photo op with her to finish his warm-up.	35-24
5		Dodgers	-1		35-25
6		Orioles	-1	Alternating wins and loses all week this past week. Losing two out of the last three series is not great. I then thought about it and obviously the Orioles can't win every game and can't win every series, so thinking they can, means I have more confidence in this team than I have in a very long time. Aaron Hicks has been a pleasant surprise filling in for Cedric, batting .455 with an OPS of 1.208. Even though the fans were severely against getting him, he seems to have been the right move so far. The next six games are against Milwaukee and KC, hopefully we go at least 4-2.	37-22
7		Yankees	0	Another strong road trip, another handful of injury questions. Is Nestor really hurt, or is this a “get right” phantom stint? Will Judge need IL time? Wtf’s Bader’s situation? In better news Stanton, Kahnle, and Donaldson are back, and Rodon is set to face live batters. It would be really fucking cool if we could get off the IL merry-go-round though.	36-25
8		Blue Jays	+1	Very nice bouceback week(ish) after our AL East foes took us to Pound Town, with series wins over Minnesota and Milwauke (Algonquin for "the good land") before sweeping the Nye Mets. Bassitt continued to build on his '23 legend by nearly throwing another CGSO while his wife was going into labor in another country. Vladdy lasered his first HR not off a shitting-his-pants position player since May 4th, and still hasn't hit one at home, which is WILD. Belt overcame DFA screams from dipshits after an abysmal April (.519 OPS) with a hero-ball May (.940 OPS). Big tests coming up, tho, with HOU, BAL, MIN, and TEX next on the docket. Someone throw an irradiated spider at Manoah or something.	33-27
9		D-Backs	-1	The Diamondbacks had a decent week, sweeping the Rockies in four games and coming within one out of taking two of three from the Braves. Alas, the Diamondbacks' bullpen is still the Diamondbacks' bullpen. Additionally, Geraldo Perdomo's abysmal peripherals are catching up with his early-season performance, and third base remains a question mark, as Josh Rojas still doesn't have a single home run on the season.	35-25
10		Twins	0	A 4-3 week, including another series win against the reigning WS Champions! The lineup still isn't consistent though and we're being carried by our good pitching. There's time to fix those issues as the summer goes on, especially in the AL Central where we don't have a lot of competition.	31-29
11		Brewers	+2	In the words of noted Brewers fan Tom, "i don't understand how each day the lineup can look worse than the day before, like each day feels like rock bottom then it gets even worse somehow" That's pretty much Brewers fandom opinion of the Spring Training esque lineups Milwaukee is trotting out day after day. Somehow the team was 4-2 in the last week though. (Thanks Reds). Also, Reddit effectively kiling third party app support is terrible, and might actually be the thing that gets me to leave this Californian Hotel.	32-27
12		Red Sox	0	You know, I liked baseball more when we weren't .500. Losing Chris Sale to the injured list right as we get Whitlock and Paxton back is cruel but predictable. Our rotation has a lot of talent, but lacks the stamina to actually go deep into games. Houck, Whitlock, Pivetta and Kutter are all decent to really good 1st/2nd time through. Pair them up and have them each throw ~3-4 innings and you've basically Frankenstiened two 110 ERA+ starters! CHaim hire me please :)	30-29
13		Pirates	+4	The Pirates had a miserable May. The pitching went from excellent to merely good while the offense was put on life support. The Bucs, who were 20-9 at the end of April, had dropped under the .500 mark on Memorial Day. Since then, the Bucs have won 5 straight — 2 against the Giants to pick up the Pirates' first (and only) series win in May, and then a sweep of the Cardinals for the first time since 2018. Yeah, the Pirates are only 31-27, but that puts them just a game out of first in the NL Central. Not bad considering where this team stood a week ago.	31-27
14		Angels	0	When he has been on the field and not getting into it with fans or wasting away on the injured list, Anthony Rendon has been a quietly solid presence in this Angels lineup. Slated to return back to the lineup within the next couple days, the team could use a boost in the middle part of the order, especially with runners on.	31-30
15		Mariners	-4	A Mariner is a person who works aboard a watercraft as part of its crew, and may work in any one of a number of different fields that are related to the operation and maintenance of a ship. The profession of the Mariner is old, and the term Mariner has its etymological roots in a time when sailing ships were the main mode of transport at sea, but it now refers to the personnel of all watercraft regardless of the mode of transport, and encompasses people who operate ships professionally, be it for a military navy or civilian merchant navy, as a sport or recreationally. Up next: 2 @ Vedder Cup bros, 3 @ Troutanis	29-30
16		Mets	-1	Since my last update, we swept the Phillies and we got swept by the Blue Jays. This is a weird Mets team who I think may just be pretty mediocre, though I suspect they'll stick sneak into the playoffs. Our record is back at .500 and we have the Braves in Atlanta next, which is not the kind of shit you want to see. Omar Narvaez will likely return from the IL this week, creating an interesting roster crunch which shouldn't be interesting at all, since current backup catcher Tomas Nido has an OPS of .278.	30-30
17		Marlins	+1	Sweepy has been busy so far this year. The fish complete their 4th sweep of the season on the visiting A's, reports are sketchy but apparently he was last spotted saying "Mets are over rated". We'll get further clarification on what he meant by that next time he resurfaces. Sandy is going through it right now, if im being honest i think hes working through some mechanical issues cuz hes still lowkey struggling with location. His last outing was fairly good save one inning where he allowed a bunch of runs but he is slowly improving. Very slowly. The his week the marlins are gonna host the royals, followed with a trip to south side chicago.	32-28
18		Giants	-2	The Giants went 2–4 with two 1-run losses. Normally losing a series to both the Orioles and Pirates would be problematic, but in the New Age, both teams are good and the Giants played hard 80% of the time. They are 5–7 in 1-Run Games, and 1-2 in extras, and with a +1 Run Diff (18th in MLB, -5 spots) they are slightly underperforming expected W/L Record. The Giants will be without Joc, Yaz, Conforto, Estrada, and Bart until tomorrow (expected), and Alex Wood is the latest casualty – gone for 12ish days. The rotation, led by Cobb, Webb, and Disco, will rely even more on the bullpen which usually means Jacob Junis (yay!) and Manaea (: / ). Cleaning up their act some, the bullpen ERA is now 20th in MLB (+3) and the whole staff at 15th in RA/G (=). The inconsistent offense, hampered by injuries and some mini-slumps, sits at 14th in RS/G (-2). Giants fans must hope a return to health will boost the bats, the younglings liven back up, and the bullpen holds the line @ Coors Field ( : / ) and vs the question-mark-of-a-team Chicago Cubs.	29-30
19		Padres	+1	It was the first game at Petco for my Niece and her Father. He'd long written off the Padres, as a team of nobodies that would never try to win at a sport that ultimatley rigged for markets that weren't in San Diego County. As a sign of goodwill from my Sis, his ex-wife, they had amazing seats, down by the first base side, that were each in the triple digits. Over the last few years he'd gotten into the sport for the first time since '98, and for my Niece, it was the first time following any pro sport in her life. They sat down at their beautiful seats, had a couple of 'dogs, and by the third inning, San Diego was behind 7-0. Sigh. The Padres average 39k at Petco, ranking 5th in the majors in attendance. They have a 13-17 record in those games.	27-32
20		Guardians	+3	I was on vacation this week, so I haven't been as aware of baseball as I should be. I did go to two games at Camden and two at Nationals Park while on my trip. The Guardians won a series against the Orioles and split one with the Twins, so now I'm being optimistic and will probably embarrass myself again. Also, I hope the Reds ranker is doing okay.	27-32
21		Phillies	-2	What a miserable week it was to be a Phillies fan. They salvaged a 2-4 record by winning the weekend games against the Nationals, but were dreadful all week in games that were just close enough to keep your hopes up. The Phillies are currently 4.5 games out of the 3rd wild card spot with 3 other teams ahead of them. Trea Turner, who you'd think would have one of the highest floors in the league, is hitting .232 with a dreadful .276 OBP. Alec Bohm hit the IL, which means the infield regularly includes one or two of Josh Harrison, Kody Clemens (who's actually been quite hot the past few weeks), and AAAA quality Drew Ellis (who went 3/3 with 2 walks and 2 home runs on Sunday). The bats and pitching have completely died, but that's thankfully set the stage for Nick Castellanos to do what he does best. This week: a homestand with 3 against the Tigers and 3 against the Dodgers.	27-32
22		Cubs	+2	This week was a much needed bounce back for the Cubs, as they took 2 out of 3 from both the Rays and Padres. Unfortunately, the week was marred by yet more struggles in the clutch and with RISP as well as Justin Steele's injury. Steele is out for at least 2 starts with forearm soreness, and will be dearly missed as he has kept the Cubs in game after game. The Cubs continue their West Coast road trip this week with sereis against the Angels and Giants following today's game in SD.	26-32
23		Cardinals	-2	The Cardinals should be playing better, they aren't. They've been bad all season. Short of collective epiphany that sees them 30 up in their next 40 (lol, doubt it) there's no useful information I can put in this box past "Fire John Mozeliak."	25-35
24		Reds	+1	It finally happened boys. After just a month of being separated, she gave me official divorce papers. I think she’s made it abundantly clear she has no interest in fixing things, and you know what? I get it. It’s alright. She told me straight up that she didn’t feel anything between us anymore, and no amount of therapy or counseling is gonna fix that, whatever was there is gone. She’s felt like that for a while, I just refused to see it, I was in denial. But i’m not anymore. I’m free, I am once more ready to set sail on the ocean of loneliness until I find land. I hope I can find land. I gotta find land. How we’ll divide time between our son is yet to be determined, but I know we’ll find a good compromise. I’m just…happy that the air is clear. No more pretending to enjoy each other's presence, no more fake smiles to mask our emptiness. No more. Anyway, let’s talk Reds baseball. We had a good road trip where our offense managed to shine but a horrid home series where we got pantsed by a division rival. The front office just refuses to throw the fans a bone. We continue to give playing time to people like Will Benson and Stuart Fairchild, all the while prospects like Elly De La Cruz and Christian Encarnacion-Strand are tearing up AAA to the point where there’s really nothing left for them to do. Both had problems with their Walk%, so what happened? The last couple weeks both have significantly improved their walk rate. They have nothing left to do in AAA if you ask me and plenty of the fanbase. Imagine if both can be successful in the MLB, what kind of boost of energy that would give to this team while they’re still in striking distance of the NL Central crown. Our starting pitching is still a major liability, Graham Ashcraft has just flat out forgotten how to pitch. The Bullpen is still keeping us in games and our offense can be truly clutch at times, but consistency is one thing we’ve lacked all season. Consistency, consistency, consistency. It’s not here. But with an injection of young talent, things could definitely turn around, or I guess you could say something that’s become a bit of a motto here in Cincinnati and with our recent ownership groups: We’re just a couple years away.	26-33
25		Tigers	-3	RIP Riley Greene. RIP Eduardo Rodriguez. I guess the White Sox walkoff on Saturday where a Jose Cisnero pitch domed the home plate umpire for a wild pitch was emblematic of this week (shrugs). As a side note, man is this linup brutal, sporting a team slash line of .226/.302/.349 for the season. Yikes! This week: 3 at PHI, 3 vs. ARI.	26-31
26		White Sox	+2	The AL Central being so competitive/non-competitive is the worst thing for the White Sox right now. Despite being 9 games under .500, they are only 5.5 games back in the division. They're stuck in limbo right now. In any sane world, they would already be selling parts, but in all likelihood, they'll have to sell some of the future at the deadline, only to go on a cold streak in mid September, finish 8 games out in the division, and make this awful season feel even worse.	26-35
27		Nationals	-1	Rough week for the Nats losing 5 of 7 and getting even worse news with the announcement of Strasburg being shut down from all physical activity. While I can't speak for all Nats fans, I can speak for myself: Stephen Strasburg has absolutely nothing to prove. I genuinely would be ecstatic for him to ride off into the sunset without throwing another pitch before unvailing a statue with Zim on the corner of Capitol and Potomac.	25-34
28		Rockies	-1	No Blurb Submitted	26-35
29		Royals	0	Congo rats to Scott Barlow on notching his 50th career save. And congo rats to Aroldis Chapman for rebuilding his career and being a trade chip. The Royals are going to fuck up the return, but at least he can get something back in another couple of months. I'm looking forward to surgery so I can be too drugged up to give a shit about this team.	18-41
30		Athletics	0	More a question than a curse, how could hell be any worse?	12-49

Tom was still rather worried he had made a big mistake as he watched Jacky fly off towards the grey horizon, chainsaw dangling from her chest. He felt a little odd actually. He had come running out to say goodbye and to give Jacky her pair of ear defenders and some safety glasses that sorta fit, at least a little bit. He had also reminded them to pack some tarps. Just in case it rained since it might help keep the wood mostly dry. Honestly, he felt like a worried mother or housewife.
The image hadn’t really been helped when Ray had also come running up carrying some bundles of food someone had apparently forgotten. Maybe he should go do a load of laundry next and complete the image.
“Well… that’s them gone,” Tom shrugged as he lost sight of Jacky against the grey skies.
“Yup…” Ray answered, also staring up at the sky, watching them.
“You got anything you have to do or?”
“Oh eh, not that much… I really should wash the floors in the armory though, a lot of muddy feet,” Ray joked a little unsurely.
“Don’t bother, it’ll be just as dirty tomorrow anyway, and ten times so if we get rain.”
“Raulf thinks so… About the rain that is. So you’re probably right,” Ray agreed, turning to look at him instead. “Do you need help with anything?”
“We just have some stuff to do in the smithy. I don’t think so… Actually,” he replied, turning to her as well, tilting his head a little. “I heard Fengi mention that you were looking at getting dresses made. Is that right?”
“Oh, yes,” Ray responded with a quick nod. “You know. It would be nice to have, even if it wouldn’t be so good to wear every day. It is going to be hard with the silks though.”
“Everyone needs some finery,” Tom replied with a wink. Of course she should have some nice clothes, maybe she would even start wearing what they had gotten for her in the capital then. She looked quite nice, all things considered, when she tried. “You went for silk? I guess that’s a bit expensive,” he carried on, having no clue what silk they might be talking about. The only silk that he remembered them having was the changeling silk of his cloak… maybe he should revisit the idea of getting that turned into a proper uniform. He would need a bit more of the stuff though.
“Well that too, but I’ve never sewn silk before. It’s always so expensive. And it’s hard to make look just right.”
“I know Essy is pretty good at sewing. I’m sure Wiperna is too.”
“Oh of course,” Ray giggled, though still looking a little uncertain. “But not to be mean or anything, but a dress is quite different from some armor or a simple shirt.”
“Well, I certainly wouldn’t know. Only sewing I’ve done was to fix things… It usually didn’t end well,” Tom joked, hoping Ray wouldn’t be quite so skittish. They hadn’t talked that much, but everyone knew she was sweet as pie.
“I could teach you if you want? I was helping Jacky a little before all this stuff with the inquisitor happened.”
“Jacky was taking sewing classes?” Tom questioned, raising an eyebrow. That was honestly quite the surprise.
“It’s been a while. She’s been busy and all,” Ray replied a little meekly before changing the subject. “How have the two of you been doing? You have had a very hard time.”
“Right… Oh yeah, it’s been… well it sucked a lot. Jacky blames the inquisitor rather than me, even if I wasn’t that nice all the time, so I guess that is a plus.”
“It’s okay, everyone has bad days. You especially so,” Ray said in a very soothing voice, going to put a hand on his shoulder with the most tender and caring look on her face Tom could imagine. “Just try not to, okay?”
“You know Ray, this is why everyone here likes you so much,” Tom chuckled softly, giving her a pat on the shoulder in return. “You’re a good egg as we would say back home.”
“But humans don’t lay eggs,” Ray replied, turning her head to the side a little, looking adorably confused.
“No, but we still know what eggs are… Anyhow, Jacky thought you would want to buy some jewelry with the money? I guess that falls under clothes to some extent.”
“Oh… Yeah, I guess so. It is going to be so strange having to buy something not from my brother's shop.” She laughed hollowly. Tom hadn’t thought about that part. He didn’t even know if the shop was still around.
“We could also try making some? I know Shiva will be quite busy, but we certainly have plenty of materials to work with. Silver and gold too. I have a feeling that maybe she will want to do something other than entertaining us lot as winter goes by.”
“Do you think she would do that? It is a lot of work,” Ray questioned meekly, clearly worried time would be spent on her that shouldn’t. Tom couldn’t really blame her. They would probably be busy all winter, but surely Shiva could whip up some earrings or something.
“Well, she sure loves polishing everything. Do you know her magic?”
“Yeah, I more or less worked it out… My brother had the same talent. Let him make things without solder. He made these earrings out of very thin gold wire all fused together into little designs. They were beautiful,” Ray replied, turning sadder and sadder as she explained.
“Oh I believe it. Maybe Shiva can replicate one?” Tom tried cautiously, not sure if he should change the subject or if this was a good thing to talk about. ‘God dammit Tom, why are you such a numpty with all this stuff?’
“Perhaps?... It was very fine work. They easily broke too. He just called that a business opportunity since not many places could fix them. I often wore some of them when standing outside, at least during the day, you know? Advertising. He never even got mad every time I broke one,” Ray replied somberly, her expression going blank. “Times change, I guess.”
“They sure do. I had never worn jewelry before coming here. And then what do the girls do? They take every chance they get to dress me up with whatever they can find. Even cut my hair to leave a damn heart and a lightning bolt. Wore a cap for months after that. It’s still not quite gone,” Tom joked. It seemed to help as she looked at him with big eyes like she had just realized something embarrassing.
“I remember those… I thought they were religious or something like that.”
Tom suppressed a snicker at that, not wanting to laugh at her. Shortly thereafter Ray too let out a little giggle, confirming that she found it funny too.
‘Oh thank god for that.’
“And the time they tried to do my hair into horns, oh that was soo stupid.”
“They really tried that?” Ray questioned, suppressing another snicker.
“Yup, I think Saph just panicked. Dakota basically just told her ‘Make him presentable!’ and then left. She didn’t have a clue what to do,” Tom carried on, breaking out laughing properly at the stupid memory. That had been so damn dumb, but it was a good story at least. Ray joined in too, though she was more snickering and giggling at his misfortune than outright laughing.
“I’m sorry, but that is funny,” Ray apologized as she kept snickering at him.
“Oh don’t worry, it was damn funny. Afterwards at least,” Tom got out after catching his breath real quick. “Or the time when Kiran attacked my foot ‘cause of how bad it smelled. That really hurt. Bastard has sharp fangs.”
“He is a spirited one,” Ray remarked, the two of them continuing to snicker like idiots.
Then there was a bit of a cough from behind them. Tom turned to see Junior and Radexi standing there, Junior at attention for some reason.
“At ease gentlemen,” Tom joked, watching the young man switch to a more relaxed stance, almost mirroring Radexi who just shook his head the tiniest amount. “What is it?”
“Shiva and Edita want you in the forge, and Jarix would like a word as well.”
“Right. I guess the fun is over then. Run along you two, I’ll be right up.”
“Yes sir.”
Tom let out a sigh as he watched them run off ‘I guess he’s not quite over playing soldier… I guess it still beats him taking after his father. Oh well, to work.’
__________________________________________________________________________________
Saph’s day had been rather boring thus far. It had been such a long walk, and it was more or less around late afternoon by the time they had made it to just the treeline. It had taken some walking back and forth from there before Essy had come descending out of the skies towards them to lead them to the camp.
It had turned out to be another half-hour walk through the forest to get there, which had left everyone save Essy a little travel sore. One might laugh at the idea of sitting down for a whole day being tiring, but Saph had actually gotten off to jog alongside just to have something to do for a bit. That and she was sore and stiff from all the hours sitting on Yldril’s back.
At least the forest was beautiful though, much better than the rolling hills. They really did get boring after a while. Here, though, it was all full of color. Especially on the outskirts of the forest. The leaves were already a dark yellow and falling, coating the ground in a colorful blanket. A few piles could be seen here and there where the wind had swept them up. Saph poked one to check for any surprises with a long stick before taking a run up and just jumping in backward, letting her wings catch the leaves to give a soft bouncy landing.
Fengi had kindly asked the dragon to walk by the pile of leaves, causing Saph to vacate to the shout of “Clear below!” followed by Fengi letting herself fall off the dragon’s back and down into the pile of leaves, using much the same trick as Saph had, though the cushion of leaves caught under her wing and sent her bouncing off. Essy stuck her head over the side to better watch as Fengi sailed gracelessly through the air and landed with a thunk and an “Aooow…” on some rather less well-padded ground.
The two silvered huntresses both chuckled a bit as Fengi held up a hand showing the OK symbol. “Nailed it.”
“Well if there had been a nail there then absolutely. You didn’t hurt anything, right?” Saph snickered, walking up to look down at the younger woman.
“Nope, I’m fine,” Fengi replied, standing up and dusting herself off, still looking like that had hurt at least a bit.
“Well at least the kids aren’t around to learn about that maneuver,” Essy added with a shake of her head. “I could see someone breaking a wing doing that.”
“You can break a wing doing the dishes,” Fengi retorted, going to jog after the dragon who hadn’t stopped or even slowed down. “Yldril, I’m climbing up your tail, just so you know.”
“Wonderful. At least you don’t want me to pick you up when you fall off,” The dragon retorted sarcastically, not seeming to care overly much. It wasn’t like she could stop them anyway. Fengi hopped up onto her tail and started climbing. Saph was half expecting the tip to fall off again, but it did seem to have survived the reattachment pretty well. Even if it was just the tip that had come off, it was certainly more than could be said for Balethon.
Saph followed Fengi’s lead, taking a running start and using a few powerful flaps of her wings to send her up onto the dragon's back. “All aboard.”
“Chuu chuu,” Essy let out playfully, pumping her fist in the air twice, leading to both Fengi and Saph tilting their heads looking at her. “Oh, it’s a thing Tom said… Not sure what it means, probably Danish.”
“Ahr yeah, that makes sense,” Fengi and Saph both agreed as they made themselves comfortable once more.
Saph went to lay down alongside the spines on the dragon's back, looking down at the ground moving slowly by below them. The dragon’s steps had slowed a bit as the hours had gone by, and she just watched the ground glide past. She thought back fondly to old times long ago. Playing in the rustling leaves as a kid had always been good fun. They used to take the kids of the keep to the forest just to see how different it was on a normal year. It was good to have a trip to see something other than just the rolling hills around the keep after all. For the last while though the kids had more or less just been cooped up inside the keep. She didn’t see that changing this year either.
‘Maybe next year. With some money, surely we could take a trip to the capital or something. Been a few since last we did that after all I think.’
They didn’t so much see the camp as hear it. Specifically, the roar of Tom’s chainsaw cutting through the woods. At first it was faint in the distance, almost like a shriek of a wounded animal, but as one came closer the true anger of that strange tool could be heard in full song. Accompanied by a familiar if rather manic-sounding laughter…
“Wait… Did they give it to Jacky?” Saph broke out, sitting up and trying to look ahead.
“Well that can’t possibly go wrong,” Fengi said sarcastically, shaking her head a bit, standing up, and walking up to Yldril’s shoulders to get a better view.
“It gets worse I’m afraid,” Essy added, having taken a comfy seat on Yldril’s back as well.
Fengi and Saph both didn’t say anything, instead just turning to look at the oldest huntress.
“Tom isn’t here either… and he gave it to her for the day,” Essy carried on reluctantly, apprehension clear on her face.
“Dakota did come, right? You know, just in case something needs to be put back on,” Saph tried half-joking, half-serious. A healer sounded like something they could definitely use if they ended up in that situation.
“I am not sure Dakota could manage that if I’m being honest. I wouldn’t like to think what that thing could do to flesh and bone,” Fengi added, also not seeming overly thrilled with the news.
“Is anyone going to tell me what that noise is?” Yldril protested, shaking her head a little as Jacky let loose once more, the screaming saw chewing its way through a log somewhere in the forest. It was hard to even work out where it was coming from with the echo bouncing off the trees all around them.
“Just think of it as a magical item that cuts wood and to do it, it burns stuff rather than magic. And is incredibly loud,” Saph responded as she tried to tell what parts of the noise were the saw and what might be Jacky screaming with glee.
“Am I the only one who would be quite scared to hear this? Say in the dark of night all alone out here?” Fengi questioned, sounding like maybe there was a little fear in there already as she looked around, the sound overwhelming them from all directions.
“Please tell me I do not have to listen to that all day?” the dragon grumbled, seeming a lot less impressed by the noise.
“If it helps, we all do. If Jacky’s got the saw, then she ain’t putting it down till it doesn’t wanna go no more. Or when we are done, I hope,” Saph sighed, the sheer disappointment radiating off the dragon feeling almost thick in the air as she walked along.
“Who knows, maybe they will be done soon?” Fengi tried in a cheerful tone. “I mean cutting trees down with that thing and branching them can’t take that long, and they must have been going for a while by now.”
Rounding a large path of bushes, the source of the noise came into view. Jacky stood with her back to them complete with her red-furred ear-defenders as woodchips flew all around, before the tree she had been working on creaked and cracked, slowly starting to topple over. “TIIIMBEEEER!”
There was a brief panic as the tree fell the wrong way, and several keep dwellers ran for it before the tree slammed into the ground. Jacky stood there looking quite pleased with herself.
“GOT IT!” she shouted out as grumbling faces started returning to the site, some having fled quite far away. As order returned some of them noticed the massive dragon staring at them. “Sorry about the bad guess. I really thought it was going that way.”
‘Gods give me strength,’ Saph sighed, clutching her temples a bit.
“Now now Saph, I’m sure she tried to make it go the other way. The saw does look like a handful if you ask me,” Essy let out, clearly trying to mediate things before anyone got shouted at. “Looks like they have come a long way already too.”
“Indeed,” Yldril replied, looking around and not sounding overly thrilled as she started walking up to the latest trunk to hit the ground. Looking around, the victims were quite spread out, and Essy was right too, there were quite a lot of them.
Jacky apparently hadn’t noticed them until Yldril was but a few meters behind her. She turned a bit to the right, probably sensing something was behind her, and let out a yelp of surprise as she noticed the massive black dragon standing just behind her. In true Jacky fashion, her finger was seemingly still on the trigger as the chainsaw roared to life, revving wildly before she managed to get her finger off the trigger, stumbling back a step or two. Some people averted their gaze once more, fearing Dakota’s magics were about to be needed, though others simply shook their heads or giggled a bit.
Yldril just stood there staring at the huntress unflinchingly. “Would you please shut that thing up?”
“Oh… right. Fuck man, you can’t just sneak up on me like that,” the chainsaw-wielding huntress countered, shutting off the chainsaw with a flick of a switch.
“I was not. You are simply oblivious. How many trees are there?”
“Oh uuuhm…” Jacky paused, looking back at her path of destruction. "Well… You know, I think I stopped counting.”
“There are twelve in total,” Dakota responded, walking up to the dragon. “And I must say, things have been going far swifter than we imagined. So far we are talking two logs per tree, we will cut them in half again when back at the keep. So two trees cut into four logs a trip was our idea. You will have to put together your cargo though. Do you think you can handle that?”
“Just fine… what even is that, a couple tons? Might as well take eight just to get it done with. That would mean I only need to do three trips, right?”
“That would be correct, yes. It is an awful lot of wood though,” Dakota replied, not seeming quite convinced that was a good idea, looking to Fengi for confirmation.
The young huntress just shrugged, clearly not knowing either. “If she thinks 8 logs is fine, why not? Not like we know what she can pull.”
“I have hauled far worse. But first I want to lay down somewhere with a bit of peace and quiet,” the dragon rumbled unenthusiastically, looking to Jacky, who was already making her way to the tree she had downed, fiddling with the saw.
“You can rest for a little. Afterward, we would have you stack the lumber up over there. We’re laying down two logs to put it on so it doesn’t get wet. In the meantime, Saph, we have a little foraging to do. I hope you brought your knife.”
“Always,” Saph replied, sliding down Yldrils's side and landing in a crouch, steadying herself with an arm before standing up again. “What are we looking for?”
“Heaven oak bark and anything else of use. A tasty snack wouldn’t go amiss either. By the looks of it, we might be able to finish up here today. Actually, remember to grab a hatchet for the bark while you are at it.”
“I saw some berry bushes when looking for you three. Worth a look I think,” Essy added enthusiastically as she too slid down Yldril, as the dragon started walking off to go have a nap somewhere a little quieter.
“Could I come too? Once I’ve seen where Yldril went to sleep at?” Fengi questioned hopefully, looking to Dakota. “I’ll be back so we can have her ready stuff for tomorrow.”
“I don’t see why not, as long as we get the prep done properly. Apparently it is going to rain tomorrow.”
“Yeah we heard,” Fengi sulked, glancing to Saph.
“Not much we can do about it. We better get going then before she wanders too far off. Do try to keep Jacky from killing anyone,” Saph chuckled, feeling a little glad she didn’t have to be too close to the saw either. It made her ears ring, and since Jacky had it there was not much chance of her getting a go at it anyway, and where was the fun in that?
“No faith at all,” Jacky laughed loudly with a big smile on her face as she yanked the cord and the device sprang to life once more. There was no denying just how quick work it made of those branches though. Each was gone in a matter of seconds as she walked up the side of the trunk.
“Well, good luck. See you later!”
__________________________________________________________________________________
As Tom came up the stairs to the greeting hall, the sight that greeted him was a young and slender blue dragon laying on his belly, head turned to face the horizon while completely overrun by kids. Said gaggle of kids seemed to include nearly everyone, save Lothal. Last Tom had seen him he had been shadowing Rachuck, who was supposed to be with Paulin at the moment so he guessed the kid was getting his first proper lessons on inquisition wrangling. Someone had to keep an eye on her.
The investigator hadn’t actually been causing much trouble as of late. Whether that came down to the orders she had been given or to the fact that Tom had a suspicion that she and Rachuck actually saw eye to eye on many things was hard to say. They were certainly both rather paranoid and beset by an impeccable work ethic.
For now though, Tom guessed he had kids to worry about, as well as whatever Jarix wanted to do. As he made his way over he saw Zarko holding the basket with Jinora, looking less than thrilled about the whole situation. It was rather funny to see the strict and uptight military woman being forced to babysit. And in all due honesty, she should probably be sawing planks or something instead. But they wouldn’t have any more wood till sometime late tomorrow, so here she was. He guessed that she hadn’t gone logging because if it came to it Jarix needed his crew for a fight.
“Ahr Tom, listen bro, I need to ask a favor,” Jarix called out, seeming quite delighted once he spotted Tom and Ray.
“Name it big guy,” Tom called back, walking up and watching as the kids all turned to look, a few hopping down to come his way with Kiran leading the charge.
“I wanted to ask you. Remember back before Joelina came here, well mostly even longer back than that. You used to run around in the morning and lift things?”
“Yup,” Tom replied, bending down to pick up Kiran as he came running with arms raised. “Up we come.”
“Yeah that stuff. Does it actually work?” the dragon questioned as the rest of the kids running up went right by Tom and instead ran up to Ray, who had already bent down arms open to welcome them in.
“What do you mean?” Tom asked with a chuckle, watching Ray with a big smile.
“He’s just trying to get out of having to do the training, that’s all,” Zarko interjected annoyedly, also walking towards Ray, Jinora’s basket in hand.
“No, not me. Radexi. He’s just embarrassed to ask, that’s all,” the dragon clarified. “I don’t need more flying practice, I’m the best already. And look at this now,” he went, flexing a foreleg which was showing some rather nicely defined muscle underneath the scaly hide.
“All that fieldwork was good for something, aye? Maybe you should be helping out log hauling.” Tom chuckled, watching the dragon’s expression go from proud to rather annoyed.
“Yeah, right,” Jarix chuckled sarcastically. “Why not do the work of someone 4 times my size, might be 5 actually. I think I’m good.”
“You haven’t done anything for weeks you big baby. It’s time to get to work again,” Zarko corrected as she gingerly gave the basket to Ray like she was defusing a bomb. Ray took it right away and stuck a hand down for Jinora to play with to the sound of happy baby giggles.
“Oh come on, I was wounded.”
“And now you’re fixed. I think it’s an excellent idea. It will take Yldril more than one run I hope, otherwise it’s not gonna be anywhere near enough wood.”
“Sounds like a plan to me. Though flying practice should be a thing too, right?” Tom questioned, looking to the now much more comfortable-looking lieutenant.
“We really should be practicing with Dakota and her girls, yes. Rachuck and the guard too for that matter, in case we get locked up in here with you for winter.”
“Makes sense. I for one would love to see some aerial exercises.” Tom mused glancing to Jarix hoping the dragon would pick up on a possible way out of hauling duty.
“As long as you don’t plan on falling off, I think the big baby could use some weight. Much like yourself,” Zarko agreed, gesturing at Tom. Tom had indeed resumed the practice of walking around with the weights on. He was more or less mended after all. The last two days hadn’t even come with dreams of Joelina’s past. Even if that wasn’t really enough to have him discount that side effect as dealt with. “Perhaps a few of the guards would be willing to come along for target practice. They will be fine in the belly netting I am sure.
“Oh come one, I’m supposed to fight using speed. Don’t go weighing me down now.”
“Of course, and if you are faster with passengers, imagine how well you will do in a proper fight. Besides, I already talked with Dakota. She found the idea quite ideal,” Zarko retorted with a grim smile on her face, Jarix deflating noticeably.
“Don’t worry, Jarix! We coming too!” Kiran shouted out, raising a clenched fist.
“Oh no you don’t,” Tom chuckled, lowering the hand back down again. “It’s bad enough for them if I fall off.”
“But I fly already.”
“Yes, when you weren’t allowed to… and were high on sugar.”
“I still want more sweets. They taste good!”
“Yes, yes I know. I promise when you’re older,” Tom tried, Kiran’s expression turning exceedingly grumpy as he crossed his arms. “I am three. That’s a lot!”
“Hey, don’t feel bad, kid. My dad didn’t let me try flying till I was 10,” Jarix added in helpfully, Kiran turning to look at the dragon, mouth agape.
“Oh nooooo.”
“Oh don’t give me that,” Zarko let out, clearly not impressed “I know your mother. No way in hel-”
“Heherm!” Ray cleared her throat, looking rather scathingly at Zarko, who for her part just shut up.
Tom just watched in awe. He had never seen Ray do anything like that before. And Zarko was not exactly the most lenient of people. Even Kiran didn’t seem to have a funny quip.
Jarix just looked rather smug at the whole thing before slowly and with head held high turning to look at Tom and Kiran.
“Anyway, I just wanted to ask if you could help Radexi out. He’s a bit spindly.”
“And he can’t pull back the bolt on the 50 properly… I’ll see what I can do,” Tom promised, not quite sure how this would end. Hopefully better than his attempt to wingman for Unkai. Even if that had been more or less successful in the end.
“Thanks bro. Now I think if I have to go out and start hauling trees, I’m gonna need to look good. Who knows who might see us out there? We have to put on a good image after all,” Jarix chuckled, laying his head back down on the sun-heated stone and looking rather comfy really. Even if Tom still needed to make good on that promise of a bed.
“What’s next, do you want white enameled armor too? Maybe a huntress crown as well? I’m sure I could put in a good word with Dakota and get you at least a copper one,” Zarko retorted sarcastically, crossing her arms and looking unimpressed.
“Did you forget how much I was paid? I am a gilded, I would have you know.”
“Still only made half of a normal year’s commission, didn’t you?”
“No, I made half on top of a normal commission, remember?”
“Right,” Tom let out, blinking a few times. “Forgot just how expensive you lot are.”
“Why do you think most keeps out here don’t have dragons? At least not normally. They are putting a fortune into this place,” Jarix countered. “I know mum’s place back home cost thousands. Food is the big one though. In the big cities, it’s just crazy.”
“There is also the small matter of asking someone who can live for hundreds of years to risk their life for you. No keep dweller dragons making 500 a year out here.” Zarko added apathetically.
“Well duh, just like there aren’t any dragonettes making 50, or even like what? 10 gold.”
“Quite, most would be more like a couple on a good year… if you're a higher rank,” Ray interjected cautiously, clearly not quite comfortable with the huge numbers.
“Damn… actually, what would a dragon make out here?” Jarix proceeded to ask, looking to Zarko, who just shrugged.
“I don’t know. Maybe 100? Maybe only 50? Some might only be paid in food and shelter, you are expensive to feed after all. From what I heard many are usually hired rather than part of the keep too.”
“Welp, even more reason to join the army,” Jarix mused, seeming quite content with his lot in life. “So much more worth it.”
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Chapter 168 ready and able. Things are starting to feel a bit more like they used to back when Tom was setteling in at the keep. Still plenty going on but it's not the center of attention right now. at least not the large scale political shenanigans. I don't know about you but I like it. Speaking of which any feedback is as always welcome down below be it pitchforks or cake. I might not agree with you but I still wanna hear it.
On the news front, There is a brand new piece of Grevi in the art show, made by Lunhaku. It's the first time we get to see a dragon in armor as well, it provides a nice perspective on the size of the dragons as well.
Praise the editors for making this all possible, I hope you enjoyed it. If you did an want another check out the patreon or if you just wanna help get more cool pictures of dragons drawn.
Until next time, take care, and I'll catch you around.
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Cover three by HarmaaGriffin
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