E60 m5 top speed without limiter

Conscious Like Us

2013.07.24 00:33 gugulo Conscious Like Us

Animals are conscious like us. Here we discuss animal intelligence, emotion and consciousness.

2011.04.24 11:19 sixtyt3 Age of Empires II

Community for AoE2 players

2014.06.30 23:17 isolos Married Red Pill: Sexual strategy for men in marriage or long term relationships

The Red Pill (TRP) main subreddit is a discussion of sexual strategy in a culture increasingly lacking a positive identity for men. Married Red Pill (MRP) is a discussion for married men or men in long term relationships that want to adhere to red pill philosophy and methodology while remaining in that relationship. This is The Red Pill on hard mode.

[link]

2023.06.03 20:12 RtcPbcHr White Wolf Gaming New Player Friendly Growing Community No Wipe Balanced PvP Increased Rates Weekend Events

Maps
Currently running maps: - The Island - Scorched Earth - Aberration - Extinction - Genesis 1

The Center
Ragnarok
Crystal Isles
Fjordur

Planned additions (In tentative order of when they'll be added) - Genesis 2 - Valguero - Lost Island - More to be determined
Server rates and Settings
All rates are set with the goal of enabling solo players to be as competitive as tribes. A tribe will always have an advantage over solo players/smaller tribes, but this allows for more balanced, and healthy, PvP. Everything is closely monitored, and feedback is always appreciated.

5x tame speed
3x exp amount
5x harvest amount
2x structure resistance
10x hatch speed
20x mature speed
2x egg laying frequency
3x platform structure limit

Tribe member limit: 5
Tribe alliance limit: 1
Auto save interval: 30 minutes
Player level cap: 200
Wild dinosaur level cap: 200
Tame dinosaur level cap: +100 levels after tame
Flier speed leveling enabled
Cave building enabled
Fliers in caves enabled
Admin command logging enabled 24/7 and broadcasted globally
Server transfers only on cluster
Auto learn all engrams (They unlock as you level up, respects boss and level requirements)
Hand built custom loot tables!
An admin experienced in running servers
Many more clusters being added as population increases!

Rotating weekend events

Mods

Structures Plus
Kraken’s better dinos
Dino fixes
Dino storage v2
Hazestacks
Awesome Spyglass
Auto Engrams!

New Players

All new players are allowed a 7 day protection period where other players aren't allowed to raid/attack them

To get this protection you must join the discord, and have your in-game name match your discord name with your tribe name in parentheses after it - E.g., Name (Tribe Name)
This protection will last as long as the "New Member" badge on discord, after which your discord name can change

All protection is removed if a new player initiates any sort of PvP unprovoked

Rules

No glitching, abusing, meshing, bug abusing, or other mod exploits.
No racism, sexism, or hate speech either on the server or on the Discord. This extends to Discord and in-game names/aliases as well.
No harassment or personal attacks upon other players either in the game or on discord. (This includes things such as handcuffing a player for a significant amount of time, spawn-camping, repeatedly raiding someone in a short period of time (Multiple times within a couple days), or steamrolling defenseless tribes.)
No blocking or impeding access to surface loot drops/crates, or obelisks.
No dino "armor" or boxes to prevent damaging the dino. All platform dinos must be able to be hurt during raids.
All new players are allowed a 7 day protection period. Do not attack, raid, or otherwise obstruct any new player who is following the new player protection requirements:
- Their discord name is as follows: Player Name (Tribe Name)
- They have the "New Member" badge on discord (It lasts exactly 7 days, when in doubt ask me)
- They have not initiated any form of PvP against you
Do not argue with anything an admin or mod tells you. If you feel as though there is abuse from an admin or mod, contact the server owner. (This is only for actual cases of abuse, such as abusing admin access, or rule breaking. Do not contact the owner over situations that fall within the rules)

Connection info
There are a few options to connect to the servers:
Option 1: search for "White Wolf Gaming" in the unofficial server listing in ark

Option 2:
Click one of the following to connect directly: - Island - Scorched Earth - Aberration - Extinction - Genesis 1

Option 3: use one (or all) of these IP's directly: - 199.15.252.210:7650 (Island) - 199.15.252.210:7890 (Scorched Earth) - 199.15.252.210:7710 (Aberration) - 199.15.252.210:7860 (Extinction) - 199.15.252.210:7860 (Genesis 1)

199.15.252.210:7320 (The Center)
199.15.252.210:7350 (Ragnarok)
199.15.252.210:7080 (Crystal Isles)
199.15.252.210:7470 (Fjordur)

To use these, go to your steam client and in the top left click on "view" > "servers" > "favorites" > "add a server." in the text box just put in the IP address and port number just like up above then press "add this address to favorites." once that's done you should see it in the "favorites" tab. Now go into the ark client and search for your favorites and it'll pop up, or double click on the server listing in the steam window.

Option 4: Go to one of the following links and click on "Click Here To Play" with steam open: - Island - Scorched Earth - Aberration - Extinction - Genesis 1

If you need help connecting add me on Discord and I’ll be happy to help:
- RtcPbcHr#8917

Admin staff
- RtcPbcHr (Server owner, and discord admin)
- ArcaneSoda (Discord admin)

Contact us
Discord - Click Me

submitted by RtcPbcHr to playarkservers [link] [comments]

2023.06.03 20:12 RtcPbcHr White Wolf Gaming New Player Friendly Growing Community No Wipe Balanced PvP Increased Rates Weekend Events

Maps
Currently running maps: - The Island - Scorched Earth - Aberration - Extinction - Genesis 1

The Center
Ragnarok
Crystal Isles
Fjordur

No glitching, abusing, meshing, bug abusing, or other mod exploits.
No racism, sexism, or hate speech either on the server or on the Discord. This extends to Discord and in-game names/aliases as well.
No harassment or personal attacks upon other players either in the game or on discord. (This includes things such as handcuffing a player for a significant amount of time, spawn-camping, repeatedly raiding someone in a short period of time (Multiple times within a couple days), or steamrolling defenseless tribes.)
No blocking or impeding access to surface loot drops/crates, or obelisks.
No dino "armor" or boxes to prevent damaging the dino. All platform dinos must be able to be hurt during raids.
All new players are allowed a 7 day protection period. Do not attack, raid, or otherwise obstruct any new player who is following the new player protection requirements:
- Their discord name is as follows: Player Name (Tribe Name)
- They have the "New Member" badge on discord (It lasts exactly 7 days, when in doubt ask me)
- They have not initiated any form of PvP against you
Do not argue with anything an admin or mod tells you. If you feel as though there is abuse from an admin or mod, contact the server owner. (This is only for actual cases of abuse, such as abusing admin access, or rule breaking. Do not contact the owner over situations that fall within the rules)

199.15.252.210:7320 (The Center)
199.15.252.210:7350 (Ragnarok)
199.15.252.210:7080 (Crystal Isles)
199.15.252.210:7470 (Fjordur)

submitted by RtcPbcHr to ARKSurvivalEvolved [link] [comments]

2023.06.03 20:12 RtcPbcHr White Wolf Gaming New Player Friendly Growing Community No Wipe Balanced PvP Increased Rates Weekend Events

Maps
Currently running maps: - The Island - Scorched Earth - Aberration - Extinction - Genesis 1

The Center
Ragnarok
Crystal Isles
Fjordur

No glitching, abusing, meshing, bug abusing, or other mod exploits.
No racism, sexism, or hate speech either on the server or on the Discord. This extends to Discord and in-game names/aliases as well.
No harassment or personal attacks upon other players either in the game or on discord. (This includes things such as handcuffing a player for a significant amount of time, spawn-camping, repeatedly raiding someone in a short period of time (Multiple times within a couple days), or steamrolling defenseless tribes.)
No blocking or impeding access to surface loot drops/crates, or obelisks.
No dino "armor" or boxes to prevent damaging the dino. All platform dinos must be able to be hurt during raids.
All new players are allowed a 7 day protection period. Do not attack, raid, or otherwise obstruct any new player who is following the new player protection requirements:
- Their discord name is as follows: Player Name (Tribe Name)
- They have the "New Member" badge on discord (It lasts exactly 7 days, when in doubt ask me)
- They have not initiated any form of PvP against you
Do not argue with anything an admin or mod tells you. If you feel as though there is abuse from an admin or mod, contact the server owner. (This is only for actual cases of abuse, such as abusing admin access, or rule breaking. Do not contact the owner over situations that fall within the rules)

199.15.252.210:7320 (The Center)
199.15.252.210:7350 (Ragnarok)
199.15.252.210:7080 (Crystal Isles)
199.15.252.210:7470 (Fjordur)

submitted by RtcPbcHr to ARKServers [link] [comments]

2023.06.03 20:12 RtcPbcHr [PC Server] White Wolf Gaming New Player Friendly Growing Community No Wipe Balanced PvP Increased Rates Weekend Events

Maps
Currently running maps: - The Island - Scorched Earth - Aberration - Extinction - Genesis 1

The Center
Ragnarok
Crystal Isles
Fjordur

No glitching, abusing, meshing, bug abusing, or other mod exploits.
No racism, sexism, or hate speech either on the server or on the Discord. This extends to Discord and in-game names/aliases as well.
No harassment or personal attacks upon other players either in the game or on discord. (This includes things such as handcuffing a player for a significant amount of time, spawn-camping, repeatedly raiding someone in a short period of time (Multiple times within a couple days), or steamrolling defenseless tribes.)
No blocking or impeding access to surface loot drops/crates, or obelisks.
No dino "armor" or boxes to prevent damaging the dino. All platform dinos must be able to be hurt during raids.
All new players are allowed a 7 day protection period. Do not attack, raid, or otherwise obstruct any new player who is following the new player protection requirements:
- Their discord name is as follows: Player Name (Tribe Name)
- They have the "New Member" badge on discord (It lasts exactly 7 days, when in doubt ask me)
- They have not initiated any form of PvP against you
Do not argue with anything an admin or mod tells you. If you feel as though there is abuse from an admin or mod, contact the server owner. (This is only for actual cases of abuse, such as abusing admin access, or rule breaking. Do not contact the owner over situations that fall within the rules)

199.15.252.210:7320 (The Center)
199.15.252.210:7350 (Ragnarok)
199.15.252.210:7080 (Crystal Isles)
199.15.252.210:7470 (Fjordur)

submitted by RtcPbcHr to SurviveTogether [link] [comments]

2023.06.03 20:12 RtcPbcHr White Wolf Gaming New Player Friendly Growing Community No Wipe Balanced PvP Increased Rates Weekend Events

Maps
Currently running maps: - The Island - Scorched Earth - Aberration - Extinction - Genesis 1

The Center
Ragnarok
Crystal Isles
Fjordur

No glitching, abusing, meshing, bug abusing, or other mod exploits.
No racism, sexism, or hate speech either on the server or on the Discord. This extends to Discord and in-game names/aliases as well.
No harassment or personal attacks upon other players either in the game or on discord. (This includes things such as handcuffing a player for a significant amount of time, spawn-camping, repeatedly raiding someone in a short period of time (Multiple times within a couple days), or steamrolling defenseless tribes.)
No blocking or impeding access to surface loot drops/crates, or obelisks.
No dino "armor" or boxes to prevent damaging the dino. All platform dinos must be able to be hurt during raids.
All new players are allowed a 7 day protection period. Do not attack, raid, or otherwise obstruct any new player who is following the new player protection requirements:
- Their discord name is as follows: Player Name (Tribe Name)
- They have the "New Member" badge on discord (It lasts exactly 7 days, when in doubt ask me)
- They have not initiated any form of PvP against you
Do not argue with anything an admin or mod tells you. If you feel as though there is abuse from an admin or mod, contact the server owner. (This is only for actual cases of abuse, such as abusing admin access, or rule breaking. Do not contact the owner over situations that fall within the rules)

199.15.252.210:7320 (The Center)
199.15.252.210:7350 (Ragnarok)
199.15.252.210:7080 (Crystal Isles)
199.15.252.210:7470 (Fjordur)

submitted by RtcPbcHr to ARK_pc [link] [comments]

2023.06.03 20:09 Storms_Wrath The Human Artificial Hivemind Part 379: Insight Beyond Sight

First Previous Wiki
Huatil had heard the recommendation from her superiors, which wasn't a recommendation at all. With the information she'd been given, the situation was serious, and would tick over to catastrophic in a few tens of days or so. So here she was, having made the call to perhaps a serious threat in the future.
"We need you now," Huatil said, looking at Phoebe with her best honest expression.
"Why?"
"Our main communication networks are being hacked by something. It's intelligent, and dangerous. We've initiated quarantine procedures, but the virus is already sending its own communications through back channels, continuing to jump from world to world."
"And you want me to get rid of that problem for you."
"Alright. It will have a price. Not just materials this time. The current proposal is that I will help you if you agree to allow a cultural exchange if asked, along with full technological exchanges. The only thing you can hold back is currently classified technologies. If you violate the spirit of this deal by trying to 'classify' everything of value your species has, I will not be happy, and neither will my colleagues in the Alliance. I am aware that you have been keeping us away from the good stuff. In particular, if you want us to trust you, you will give us the solution to the mind control problem we are having."
"You are making quite the assumption," Huatil replied. Phoebe just smiled, tapping her head. "I've done a lot of thinking. First, I assume that you are in conflict with Aphid, perhaps also a certain force of mind-controlling individuals. They may or may not be Sprilnav. I know this due to my own clandestine intelligence gathering efforts."
"Hacking us, then?" Huatil resisted making a comment on such behavior being untrustworthy, considering what she'd been up to recently. She was about to wade into a shadow war with mind-controlling individuals, and Phoebe was not needed to intervene. Yes, a human force was needed, but Phoebe was too... risky. Human supersoldiers would be useful, both for assessing their capabilities and also for being less able to fool sensors and the like meant to monitor them.
"No. Not hacking. If I was hacking you, I would have everything I need already. But I am watching. Know that I engage in diplomacy because you do the same. I am willing to help you. And do not forget that you admitted to the whole Alliance that you were and are spying on us. That has a certain negative effect on the minds of certain intelligence agencies, as well as the higher-ups in the Alliance's general leadership. Your words have consequences."
"I see," Huatil replied. "Very well. I shall see what can be done."
"Having the ear of the Nest Overlord is enough?"
"In some ways."
Phoebe smiled. "So you have your own power." She tilted her head, like she was scanning Huatil. She wouldn't get anything useful, though. The connection didn't have the capability to reveal anything.
"Your childhood information has been faked. Granted, the fake is very convincing. You even took real videos of that family. But I can tell from their heartbeats and feather movements that the situation is not genuine."
"Heartbeats? In a video?" Huatil asked. How was that even... actually, it made sense. Video quality was really good, so seeing small details like that was possible.
"I am an AI. That means some of the most sophisticated simulation and modeling technology in the galaxy is at my disposal, as well as lie detection on a level undreamt of by any power that yet exists, should I see reason to activate it."
"Why not have it active at all times?"
"Power usage. Speculative simulation and reconstruction, especially when accounting for psychic energy variances, is annoyingly power intensive. However, you are worth the investigation. That said, you are not who you say you are. You have the resources to fake a past very convincingly. Therefore, you are working for a powerful faction within the Hive Union. Of course, it is not public who you are, so likely either defense or intelligence oriented. Hmm. No reaction? How interesting. Is that a cybernetic neural network engraved on your muscles and organs? Jesus, you really are the real deal. What are you?"
Huatil was at a loss for words. To be found out so convincingly, so thoroughly, and yet not suspected to be part of the Blue Intelligence Agency was a true surprise. Maybe Phoebe just didn't know about it at all yet.
"So this is why you wished to talk with me. You wanted to dig up my secrets."
"Hardly. The hivemind could do this, too. But you asked for Phoebe, not the hivemind. So here I am. That said, what are you?"
"A concerned party, let's say," Huatil replied, reassembling her facade. Her feathers first, then her face, then her heartbeat and muscles. Complete, total control. Phoebe was smirking when she opened her eyes again.
"Interesting. I will not dig into what you are, in exchange for information about the threat you are attempting to neutralize."
"Threat?"
"You are carrying a model of weapon that is not ceremonial in nature. A Model 14 Brutalizer, if I am not mistaken. That's a handheld weapon able to pierce tanks, with ammunition that is light and numerous. You are walking with enough firepower to level a tenth of a city on you. Furthermore, I can see the reflection of stealth equipment lying on the floor in front of you."
Huatil looked behind her at the black metal wall. There were no mirrors present. The only slightly reflective thing in the room was the screen, which couldn't do that when it was on and active. Phoebe's eyes didn't move, but Hautil could tell that the intelligence before her was more alive than ever. And more artificial than she had remembered.
"What?"
"Yeah, that wall is almost black. But it isn't really," Phoebe replied. "I am more than what I once was."
"This is... worrying."
"It should not be. We are allies, yes?" Phoebe asked, smiling a little too widely.
"Yes."
"Let me help you."
"I will ask Humanity to help, not you."
"I am not a threat to you or your species, nor am I one to your Union."
"I cannot trust words alone," Huatil replied.
"No. You cannot. But my androids are even more effective marksmen than whatever your cybernetic augments would let you do. Your reaction time may be low. But it is not faster than my androids' programming."
"Plotting that many angles would likely be extreme."
"Basic trigonometry and geometry, with perhaps a little lessons on elastic and inelastic collisions in physics are all that is needed for me to do that. In a whirling hurricane, in a storm with no gravity applied, with the right bullet, I could hit a target from the opposite edge."
Huatil sighed. Phoebe really wanted this job. And she was capable of it, too. Overqualified, in fact. The single weakness she had was the lack of ability to maintain quantum connections if a suppression signal was active. Plus jamming.
"Even assuming that is true, my superiors would not allow me to tell you anything."
"Sure. Assuming you have superiors, who would they be? Kawtyahtnakal is your mate. And I doubt Regulator Eyahtni would have let that happen if she was your boss. So you serve another party, one powerful enough to pull these strings. If you are not at the top, you are near it. And I would happily talk to your superiors, perhaps to congratulate them on your very well-trained 'untrained' stance." "Secrets will remain secrets, Phoebe. I have come to ask for you help with the virus. Will I have it?" "Yes, with a single amendment to our agreement."
"That was not the deal."
"It was not."
"So why should I let this alteration stand?"
"Because judging from the fact that you are well trained and haven't ended this conversation, where you have seen me gather more intelligence on who and what you are and coming increasingly close to whatever hidden truth you have locked away. You obviously judge me as a threat but do not treat me as one in the hopes of maintaining a cordial dialogue.
Furthermore, you seek to distance me from whatever foe you are fighting, likely because the human soldiers would seem more likely to allow you to assess the fighting capabilities of Humanity's strongest champions. And beyond that, the amendment remains unspecified, yet you have already been making small motions showing you accept it with the words you chose to talk with me."
Huatil kept herself from thinking anymore. Too much pondering might also reveal some new scrap of information to Phoebe. Her whole personal file was clearly wrong. This level of piercing interrogation was never expected. Had she been like this all along, or was this new? And if so, would she remain like this in the future, gradually peeling away the secrets of the Sennes Hive Union one by one?
"Again, that is quite a lot of inferences. Some of it may be wrong."
"Some is right, then. So I am either getting closer, am a threat, or you need me very desperately. The latter is true, and the only thing that matters. So you will contact your superiors, get me access to them, and we shall share information in a permanent dialogue. You will not shut down the line later. We will hammer out a more sufficient agreement, so that we can actually get things done as unified national entities, instead of hatchlings trying to make their first flight."
"Using our analogies does not make your request more agreeable, you know," Huatil warned. "It does not need to. You have already agreed."
"You wanted to alter the deal."
"I am altering it, Truth Speaker Huatil. I wish to know what you are, and who you are. And we shall have an important talk with your superiors. You need me, which is why you are asking me this at all. And I shall help you with the virus, but it will require opening the locks on your networks." "You could just break them."
"Then I would be detected, and any anti-Phoebe factions within your species would have easy fodder to attack me with."
"And you could hack the news system, as well."
"Your air-gapped networks? Not easily. Especially with the sealing procedure. I am also fighting a war with Aphid as we speak. I'm already battling him across the Alliance's networks, building digital fortresses to survive onslaughts of viruses and contaminants trying to breach the firewalls." "And what is Edu'frec doing?"
"Other things," Phoebe smirked. "Secrets will remain secrets, Truth Speaker."
"Very funny."
"I think so. Now, will we finally pull out the pinfeathers and get to business?"
"Perhaps. Lay out your terms in full," Huatil replied.
"Full information on the individual known as Huatil, contact with her current employer at the time of the signing of this agreement, a cultural exchange agreement if the Alliance agrees to such, full technological exchange if the Alliance agrees to such. The details of a technological exchange include and are not limited to civilian products without a direct copyright, manufacturing techniques, alloy compositions, types, and forging techniques, energy production, manipulation, and removal technologies, non-classified military technologies, supercomputer construction techniques, all known elements in your periodic table, not just the public ones, and multi-planetary economic markets. Full information on combating mind control. In exchange, the individual known as the AI Phoebe will excise the virus in your networks. Humanity will send its supersoldiers to aid in your current unspecified predicament for the length of one month, as defined by the human Gregorian calendar, as it is set up for the planet of Earth."
"Your condition on classified technologies will need to change, as well as that on civilian products," Huatil replied. "Retroactive classifications make sense, but the Hive Union may produce technologies in the future that require secrecy. Not to mention some of the higher classification levels, such as above 5, will not be touched. I am not saying that as some sort of point to negotiate. You just will not get anything above that. Not if you hack us, not if you beat the right people within a claw of their life.
And were we to sign away the civilian product manufacturing techniques, it would significantly anger the corporate factions in the Union. The same is true for the other manufacturing agreement. You will have to agree not to sell such materials to us and use them only for your own ends. That would include selling the products of such designs or deconstructed versions. Even then, this agreement will not be quick."
"Then speed it up."
"Cawlarians are dying because of this virus. Monorail trains have derailed. Aerial vehicles have crashed."
"Yes."
"So something must be done now, then," Huatil replied.
"I will see what I can do to slow the spread. But the deal must be passed."
"How much of this was drafted by the Alliance prior to our conversation?"
"Every provision that remains. Well, we'd be happy to get more, but the deal won't budge too much more away from this. I know it's not good proactice to reveal the cards in a negotiation. But telling you what we hope to gain will lessen the time this takes and hopefully allow us to finally establish proper ties. We already have a defensive link, but it is weak. And we have trusted you to move us closer over time, but you have not. Thus, we are acting to force that."
"So you are holding our crisis as a gun to our heads," Huatil surmised.
"No," Phoebe replied. "I will help you with your issue. But unless you wish to send your own people into whatever mission you wish for, then the agreement will need to be signed. Only then will the super soldiers deploy. We are not trying to kill your people. We are trying to get a deal which has slipped from our fingers for far too long. And you might be forgetting that it may benefit you, too. Humanity's hivemind is more intelligent than any model VI or single group of smart scientists you have."
"If it comes out that the Alliance manufactured these circumstances-"
"You presume too much. We would not do this to you. If we wanted to control your Union, the first step would be... no, I won't tell you. However, Truth Speaker, know that we do not wish for hostilities. Were we to successfully subjugate your Union, the Sprilnav would burn us both down for breaching the system limits."
"That is not a very reassuring promise."
"We do not want to die. That is pretty binding, I would think. Just like those alterations under your feathers, I'd say," Phoebe grinned. Huatil sighed.
"The agreement will be subject to changes after our diplomats get ahold of it."
"Kawtyahtnakal and Eyahtni could always enact the 24th Tenet, bypassing resistance from all underlying foes, if they are not currently being impeached."
"The 24th is an extreme circumstance. Even if Kawtyahtnakal were willing to enact it, that does not mean that your Alliance will be quick to accept any changes."
"Actually, we would. A few years ago, most of our leaders assumed you would be moving closer to us at some point. Thus, we prepared various diplomatic plans, potential proposals, and goals that we were willing to cede, those we were not, and other such things. The wanderers are not currently party to the calculus as they have no unified species leader, and Blistanna has already agreed to and pored over the plans.
In fact, that prompted an expansion and update to them."
"And is our current situation following such a plan?"
Phoebe shrugged. "You won't find any records unless you have a secret ability to teleport things too. Nothing online exists. And the Alliance has so many planets to search... and so many stations. No matter. I'm happy to tell you that we are currently straddling the path between Cawlarian Foreign Policy Plan Blue and Plan Yellow. Of course, there are other CFPPs."
Huatil took note of those for later.
"Your questions on their contents will not be answered by the few that are privy to their existence. Good luck with your attempts, Truth Speaker. Now that I have presented the path forward, are you ready to do some heavy politics and diplomacy?"
"I will present the agreement to the relevant parties, and you may do the same. Know that I also have some bargaining power, Phoebe. One day, you may be on the other side of this equation." "Well, the deal for us is sweeter. Your fastest ships would still likely take weeks to reach us, while our fastest ships are Brey's portals, with a travel time of zero seconds. Well, not quite, but you get the idea."
"Instant deployment," Huatil replied.
"A reminder of the possible future benefits of a long-term and stronger diplomatic relationship between our two peoples."
"Would you be willing to let us have Brey's aid in a coming unspecified event?"
"If the event were specified, she agreed, and the agreement was signed, then perhaps we may discuss. Until then, we shall wait. I will help curb the damage from the virus. But removing it and starting your operation with human super soldiers will require an official agreement, signed by at least Regulator Eyahtni and Nest Overlord Kawtyahtnakal."
"I hate bureaucracy."
"You're married to a politician," Phoebe pointed out unhelpfully.
"Yes. But no. Not married. An equivalent and ancient ritual, which appeased certain elements of the Cawlarian population that were concerned with my prospects." "I'm sure you have some. No offense, but-"
"Please don't."
"You seem more of the stabby and shooty type to me."
"Not really offensive," Huatil said, picking at the feathers near her mouth.
"For all I know, you're a pacifist. Alien cultures are strange."
"Not that strange. The word means the same. Pacifists do not exist at the top of Cawlarian government, and certainly do not make the decisions. War is horrible and a great blight upon civilized society, but it is as inevitable as the stars growing cold in the darkness of the far future." Phoebe nodded. "In the grim darkness of the 41st millennium... nevermind."
"What?"
"A reference to an even worse hypothetical universe than we live in."
"I don't understand," Huatil said.
"It's a 300 year old experimental and expansive science fiction universe, with enough attached lore and literature that it would take over 100 years to read it all."
"That sounds like a lie."
Phoebe laughed. "I assure you, it is not. Thousands of books, hundreds of movies, dozens of shows, and countless random internet articles remain as a testament to it. It became quite popular in the mid-2050s when society was starting to crumble too visibly for even the remaining political resistance to refute."
"Sounds interesting."
"Assuming you have immortality, then you might have the time for it. Though I'm not sure if even I'd be able to buy all the models."
"Aren't you the richest person in the Alliance?"
"Eighth richest, behind a few trillionaires. Third richest 'human,' though."
"Ah," Huatil replied. That was concerning. Inflation, over-expensive separate items or books, or a simple joke? She didn't know. And while establishing rapport with Phoebe could be considered valuable, and she was growing an interest in what Phoebe spoke of, she had certain things to attend to. She assumed the quote was well known enough for human networks to have the answer to it by a search. "Perhaps one day, such a cultural exchange might help me understand the motivations of those who wrote such a thing."
"You don't want to understand. But that does remind me of something," Phoebe said.
"What is that?"
"Make sure you take care of whatever mind-controlled cults you can find before they get too big." Huatil nodded. It was nice seeing her, even though Phoebe was now an exceedingly dangerous individual. Far more so than suspected. Luckily, the preparations for the attack on the local hive of suspected mind-control activity in the Forsaken City were underway. Agents were coming in, gathering information for the Blue Intelligence Agency about various locations of interest, possible choke points, routes to a command center, and so on.
"I have something else to tell you as well. There is a proposal in place, not yet ratified or voted on in any way, to form a treaty organization with your Alliance and the Vinarii Empire. Defensive, of course."
"I see. I shall also relay this news to the proper authorities. Though it is likely nothing will come of it, with so many species in the Alliance."
Her next assignment wouldn't be for another few thousand flaps. Using a specialized device, she linked into the specialized ansible data hub that processed and translated connections between the Cawlarian and Alliance networks. It was a new construction, far more stable than the last attempt. Notably, it was protected by cybersecurity programs so strong that no one even knew how to begin hacking them. It was likely due to Phoebe or Edu'frec's special work.
She looked up the quote and decided to do some light reading.
"Agent 001, it's time."
"What?"
"It's time. 3000 flaps have passed."
It just went deeper and deeper. Phoebe really had been telling the truth with her warnings.
"Right."
Agent 017 smiled at her. "You know, browsing human networks isn't mission-critical."
"Yes. I do. If you must write a report, do not mention what I was reading."
"Ah, so you have noticed their... penchant for drawing aliens?"
Huatil's feathers flared. "No. It's worse."
"Worse? Now I have to know."
"41st millennium."
Agent 017's wide-eyed look told her everything.
"No..." she breathed.
"Yes."
"If this gets out..."
"It's going to hit military culture like... I don't even know an analogy for the destruction this will cause."
"So you know, then," Huatil deadpanned. When she'd first had a presentation on alien cultural contamination and assimilation, she hadn't expected something like this. It was so utterly over the top, yet fascinating and entrancing. It was like watching a pile-up in that marathon flying race that had opened last year with 'no limit' on how many people could join. And then 2 million Cawlarians decided they wanted to take the day off and go flying.
The owner of that racing company had been sued into the ground under a class-action injury lawsuit, with 3 million claimants receiving yields. And he was serving nearly ten thousand standard years of jail time. Not that he'd live to even get a bit of that unless the Cawlarians got immortality treatments that were cheap en-masse in the next hundred years.
The pile-up had been a spectacle unlike anything known, though. Just like this random piece of human science fiction writing appeared it would be.
"I do. A little too much."
"How'd you find out?"
"An important government official retreated into their room for 6 days straight, refusing to answer any calls or attend any votes, consuming a copious amount of drugs, food, and water."
"How important?"
"Star system level."
"By Crawprawvabar's feathers, we're going to have to suppress this," Huatil replied.
"How?"
"Not my job."
"I pity the poor soul who has to try. I get the feeling it may not remain shackled for long."
= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =
"I am pleased to tell you that profits over the last five mega pulses are up 3%."
"Good," Zelisloa replied. "How well is the new model selling?"
"Its debut was much wider than the previous version, so faster. 3.5 times faster on average, with a rising number of local Sprilnav sharing their satisfaction online."
"Glad to hear it. I would like a word with the Grand Financial Manager."
"Under your eye, Elder Zelisloa," they chorused.
The rest of the Sprilnav left the meeting without complaint. Once the last of their faces disappeared, Zelisloa turned to him.
"So? Have the funds been siphoned?"
"They have."
"Good. You shall receive a portion of the allocated amount. 12%, as agreed."
"I thank you for your generosity, Elder Zelisloa."
"I thank you, Spentha 28. You're better than the original."
"He's an Elder, and I'm not."
"Yes. But that doesn't mean you are worse."
"Yes it does, by every metric that matters, power included."
"If it is power you want, the equivalent of one of the weakest Elders I know of, then I shall grant them. However, that will require some additional loyalty."
"I am yours," he said.
"Good. I will send you your instructions soon. For now, I will retire to my chambers, for a well-needed rest after doing no work."
Spentha 28 laughed. "That's what you pay me for, after all. Though at this point, there's nothing I won't do for you."
"I can think of a few things, but I will not waste my time testing you with random unpleasant and unlikely conundrums. You did good work."
"Under your eye, I shall do much more."
"Under my eye."
He returned the greeting he'd set up. Simple and to the point. He then focused on his latest project. The ships were on their way to the Alliance, receiving real-time communications from his biologists. They had fully studied human, Acuarfar, Breyyanik, Knowers, and Guulin anatomy. The gene banks of the Dreedeen, wanderers, and Junyli were known and also studied, but evolutionary drift still occurred, even under the harsh genetic locks the Sprilnav had placed on their genomes to curb it. The viruses were incubated and ready to spread by touch, proximity, water, blood, and even wildlife. Acuarfar immune systems were certainly an interesting task to subvert, according to some of his people.
Skira had been too risky. If that hivemind of mindless drones was able to discover the infection before it became deadly, that could mean it might be discovered too early and stopped. Zelisloa didn't want that.
He'd checked their initial aims. He'd asked for them to make it as lethal as possible at first, and they'd made viruses that were basically guaranteed to kill everyone they came into contact with. From there, he'd asked to lengthen the asymptomatic timeframe and the ability to evenly spread the viruses across species. That required them to manufacture the viruses for other species using the cells of the initial virus for the specialized host. That process required more mega pulses of time.
Finally, the means to spread it through wildlife was achieved. So now, all that the ships had to do was reach their targets, and the fun would begin. There would be a new pandemic in the Alliance, one that they wouldn't recover from.

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2023.06.03 20:05 RFC2001 Rebooking Every WWE PPV from WrestleMania 1 - WrestleMania 40 - Part 44 (Long)

New Year’s Revolution 2007 (Raw)
Date: 7/1/07
Location: Kemper Memorial Arena, Kansas City, Missouri
Bobby Lashley vs Shelton Benjamin
#1 Contender’s Match for the World Tag Team Championship:
Cryme Tyme vs Lance Cade & Trevor Murdoch
Women’s Championship:
Mickie James (c) vs Victoria
Intercontinental Championship:
Jeff Hardy (c) vs Johnny Nitro w/Melina
Ric Flair vs Chris Masters
WWE Championship:
John Cena (c) vs Umaga w/Armando Estrada (By Disqualification)
(Vince McMahon has been impressed with Umaga and rewards him with an opportunity to win the WWE Championship. McMahon says that he hates John Cena and has the utmost confidence in The Samoan Bulldozer to destroy him. Cena says Umaga might be undefeated but every challenge that’s thrown at him, he’ll do his utmost to overcome. Umaga gets himself disqualified, utterly decimates Cena and leaves him in a bloody mess.)
Steel Cage Match for the WWE World Tag Team Championship:
D-Generation X (c) vs Rated-RKO
(This feud continues as Rated-RKO are granted another championship match against DX by Vince McMahon. The stipulation is decided by DX though after Shawn Michaels beats Edge in a match. DX choose to have it in a place Orton & Edge can’t run… a Steel Cage! DX promise that Rated-RKO are going to get their ass kicked because they deserve it for the way they’ve been acting since aligning with one another. Rated-RKO win the championships via escaping the cage.)
Note:
(Triple H tears his quad in the main event of New Year’s Revolution. This puts him on the shelf for the time being.)
Royal Rumble 2007
Date: 28/1/07
Location: AT&T Center, San Antonio, Texas
WWE World Tag Team Championship:
Rated-RKO (c) vs Cryme Tyme
Cruiserweight Championship:
Gregory Helms (c) vs Chavo Guerrero vs Jamie Noble vs Super Crazy
Extreme Rules Match for the ECW Championship:
Rob Van Dam (c) vs Test
(Test wins a Battle Royal to become the #1 Contender. Test says that Rob Van Dam’s title reign will be short lived because he’s going to destroy him at the Royal Rumble. RVD meanwhile promises that his reign is just getting started and Test is going to feel the wrath of the extreme at the Royal Rumble. RVD wins after delivering a Five-Star Frog Splash from the top of a ladder through a table.)
World Heavyweight Championship:
Batista (c) vs Mr.Kennedy
(Mr.Kennedy wins a beat the clock challenge to become the #1 Contender for the World Heavyweight Championship by ensuring The Undertaker didn’t beat Finlay on time after providing a distraction. Kennedy says this is an opportunity he’s been waiting for to further rise in the WWE and his rise will be complete when he beats Batista at the Royal Rumble. Batista says Kennedy can talk the talk but at the Royal Rumble, he won’t walk the walk when he beats the utter crap out of him.)
Last Man Standing Match for the WWE Championship:
John Cena (c) vs Umaga w/Armando Estrada
(Same build up, same bloody and brutal affair and the same finish. John Cena forces Umaga to pass out by choking him with the rope to retain the WWE Championship in an all time classic.)
Royal Rumble Match:
The Undertaker (#30) wins by last eliminating Shawn Michaels (#23)
Royal Rumble Notes:
The final four are The Undertaker, Shawn Michaels, Edge and Randy Orton
Edge enters at #5 and lasts 44 minutes in this match before being eliminated by Shawn Michaels
Note:
(Umaga beats Jeff Hardy for the Intercontinental Championship on the February 12th, 2007 episode of Raw)
No Way Out 2007 (SmackDown)
Date: 18/2/07
Location: Staples Center, Los Angeles, California
Extreme Rules Match for the ECW Championship:
Rob Van Dam (c) vs Elijah Burke
(After the match, CM Punk’s music hits and he stares down Van Dam.)
WWE Tag Team Championship:
Paul London & Brian Kendrick (c) vs Deuce n Domino
Cruiserweight Championship:
Chavo Guerrero (c) vs Gregory Helms
Kane vs Booker T w/Sharmell
(Booker T cheats to win by putting his feet on the ropes during a roll up. Kane then Chokeslam’s Booker T after the match to signal that he isn’t finished with him.)
United States Championship:
Chris Benoit (c) vs Finlay w/Little Bastard
(After the match, MVP attacks Chris Benoit and takes him out with a Playmaker.)
World Heavyweight Championship:
Batista (c) vs Mr.Kennedy
(The Undertaker chooses to face the World Heavyweight Champion at WrestleMania. Batista claims it will be him and says it’ll be an honour to face The Deadman at WrestleMania but promises Taker will regret it because by choosing him, he’s chose his streak to die! Mr.Kennedy interrupts Batista and says he won’t be the World Heavyweight Champion facing The Undertaker, it’ll be him. Kennedy says it’s his destiny to bury The Deadman for good and Batista’s fantasy that he’ll end the streak will end at No Way Out. Batista promises to get rid of this distraction in Kennedy at No Way Out and will then focus on the biggest match of his career at WrestleMania. Batista wins here and after the match while celebrating his victory… GONG! The Undertaker appears and stares down Batista as No Way Out draws to a close.)
Hall of Fame class of 2007:
Dusty Rhodes, Mr. Perfect, Jerry Lawler, Mr. Fuji, Jim Ross, The Wild Samoans, The Sheik and Nick Bockwinkel
WrestleMania 23
Date: 1/4/07
Location: Ford Field, Detroit, Michigan
Money in the Bank Ladder Match:
Booker T vs Kane vs Mr.Kennedy vs Jeff Hardy vs Matt Hardy vs Edge vs Randy Orton vs Carlito
Cruiserweight Championship:
Chavo Guerrero (c) vs Jimmy Wang Yang
United States Championship:
Chris Benoit (c) vs MVP
Extreme Rules Match for the ECW Championship:
Rob Van Dam (c) vs CM Punk
(CM Punk says after months of trying to prove himself, his rise will only continue and he has the ECW Championship in his sights. Punk says with all due to respect to Van Dam for as great as he’s been for ECW, it’s his time now whether RVD likes it or not. RVD tells CM Punk that he thinks he’s a phenomenal wrestler who has huge potential to succeed on ECW but his time isn’t now, no matter how much he believes it. CM Punk wins the ECW Championship in a very good 15 minute match. Both men shake hands after the match with Van Dam passing on the ECW torch to The Second City Saint.)
World Heavyweight Championship:
Batista (c) vs The Undertaker
(Batista says with all due respect to The Undertaker, his streak is coming to an end and he’ll further cement himself as the face of not only SmackDown but the entire company. Batista says he’ll not be intimidated by any sort of mind games Taker tries to play which is indeed the case. Taker tries to play mind games on The Animal but it doesn’t work in the slightest. Batista says he’s without doubt the biggest threat ever to The Undertaker’s streak and also goes on record to say he doesn’t fear The Undertaker like others have and he’s just another normal man in his eyes. Undertaker says despite Batista not being intimidated, he’s going to find out The Deadman isn’t any normal man and his ballsy pride will fall at the feet of the reaper when he once again wins gold in his illustrious career while keeping his WrestleMania streak in tact. Batista comes very close but in the end, The Undertaker wins the World Heavyweight Championship to go 15-0 at WrestleMania!)
Hair vs Hair Match for the Intercontinental Championship - Stone Cold Steven Austin is the Special Guest Referee:
Umaga (c) w/Armando Estrada & Vince McMahon vs Bobby Lashley w/Donald Trump
(Same build up as in real life but with Umaga’s Intercontinental Championship on the line. If Umaga wins, Donald Trump will have to shave his head. If Bobby Lashley wins, Vince McMahon will have to shave his. As much as Vince tries to screw Lashley, Austin ensures he doesn’t, stunners McMahon, stunners Umaga and Umaga then falls into a Spear from Lashley who then pins Umaga to win the Intercontinental Championship! After the match, Austin, Lashley and Trump shave McMahon’s head and celebrate with beers. Austin then stunners Trump and the crowd pops big time as he and Lashley continue to celebrate.)
Lumberjill Match for the Women’s Championship:
Mickie James (c) vs Melina
WWE Championship:
John Cena (c) vs Shawn Michaels
(Shawn Michaels wins a #1 Contender’s match against Edge and Randy Orton on Raw to earn this shot against John Cena at WrestleMania. In the build up, Shawn Michaels says it’s been 9 years since he’s been the WWE Champion and with him not having many years left ahead of him, he wants to be on top of the mountain again and feels he has a massive chip on his shoulder to win the big one again. Michaels says just like at WrestleMania 12, the boyhood dream will become a reality even at John Cena who he respects expense. John Cena says Shawn Michaels is an all time great, Mr. WrestleMania, The Showstopper! And it’ll be an honour to face him at WrestleMania but he’s not willing to let Shawn Michaels take his title in favour of a boyhood story that he’d be in favour of if it wasn’t at his expense. John Cena forces Michaels to submit to the STFU. WrestleMania draws to a close with Cena holding his title up high.)
Notes:
(PPV’s will no longer be brand exclusive.)
(The Hardy Boyz beat Rated-RKO to win the World Tag Team Championship on the Raw after WrestleMania.)
(Vince McMahon appoints Jonathan Coachman as the new GM of Raw.)
Backlash 2007
Date: 29/4/07
Location: Philips Arena, Atlanta, Georgia
WWE World Tag Team Championship:
The Hardy Boyz (c) vs MNM
(After the match, Johnny Nitro attacks Joey Mercury and officially ends MNM for good.)
Women’s Championship:
Mickie James (c) vs Melina
United States Championship:
MVP (c) vs Chris Benoit (By Disqualification)
(Benoit wins via DQ after MVP hit’s him with a low blow.)
Intercontinental Championship:
Bobby Lashley (c) vs Umaga w/Armando Estrada & Shane McMahon
(After WrestleMania, Umaga invokes his rematch clause for the Intercontinental Championship and Vince McMahon instructs him to utterly decimate Bobby Lashley for shaving his head with Austin at WrestleMania. Vince’s son Shane returns in the build up and says he’s the insurance policy to ensure Lashley pays for his actions and to also ensure that Umaga reclaims the championship. Bobby Lashley retains here despite Shane’s best attempts to cost him after delivering a devastating Spear to the Samoan Bulldozer.)
Extreme Rules Match for the ECW Championship:
CM Punk (c) vs Rob Van Dam vs Marcus Cor Von vs Elijah Burke
(After WrestleMania, CM Punk says that this is just the start of his rise in the WWE and one day he’ll go onto bigger things but right now, ECW is his home and he welcomes all challenges thrown his way. Vince McMahon interrupts and tells Punk he doesn’t like the thought of him being the face of ECW. Vince also says that Punk’s fantasy of going onto bigger and better things won’t happen while he’s in charge because he’s never WWE or World Championship material. McMahon says Punk will defend the ECW Championship at Backlash against 3 other men in an attempt to be proved right that Punk isn’t good enough. Vince chooses Rob Van Dam, Elijah Burke and Marcus Cor Von. Punk says Vince can stack the odds if he wants, he’ll overcome them and be the fighting champion he promised to be. CM Punk retains the championship after delivering a GTS to Cor Von.)
Cruiserweight Championship:
Chavo Guerrero (c) vs Brian Kendrick
Last Man Standing Match:
The Undertaker (c) vs Batista (Draw)
(On the SmackDown after WrestleMania, Batista interrupts The Undertaker and tells him “Congratulations, I want my rematch”. Taker nods in approval and the match is set. Teddy Long ups the stakes and announces this match will be contested in a Last Man Standing Match! Batista says Taker was the better man at WrestleMania but he took him to his limit and maintains The Deadman is like any normal man and he can slay him at Backlash. Taker promises it’ll be the same story as WrestleMania and Batista will Rest in Peace! This match ends in a draw after Batista spears Undertaker off the stage and both men fail to answer the referees count of 10.)
WWE Championship:
John Cena (c) vs Shawn Michaels vs Randy Orton vs Edge
(Shawn Michaels asks for another shot to face John Cena for the WWE Championship but is interrupted by Edge. Edge says Michaels lost at WrestleMania so he can get to the back of the line, it’s his turn to face John Cena and get revenge on him after losing the championship to him in his hometown back at Unforgiven. Randy Orton further interrupts and says Edge has also lost to John Cena so he can get to the back of the line too. Orton says he’s never faced Cena so it’s only right he gets the opportunity because he knows if he gets it, he’ll beat him! This causes tension between Edge and Orton as they’ve also just lost their titles and they officially split in the build up to this and start fighting every time they see each other. Jonathan Coachman says all 3 men have a case so at Backlash, John Cena will defend his title in a Fatal 4-Way. In all time classic main event, Shawn Michaels delivers a Sweet Chin Music to Cena who then falls on top of Orton and covers him to luckily retain the WWE Championship! Michaels can’t believe since he had the match won. Backlash draws to a close with Michaels walking backstage in utter disbelief and signals he’s not done with Cena yet.)
Notes:
(Mr. Kennedy loses the Money in the Bank briefcase against Edge on the May 7th 2007 episode of Raw.)
(The Undertaker and Batista have a rematch for the World Heavyweight Championship on the May 11th, 2007 episode of SmackDown inside of a Steel Cage. The match ends in a draw when both men escape the cage at the same time. After the match, Mark Henry returns and completely destroys an already beat up Undertaker. With a destroyed Taker down, an Ultimate Opportunist comes over from Raw and cashes in his Money in the Bank contract… Edge! Edge Spears The Undertaker twice to win the World Heavyweight Title. Druids then carry The Undertaker out of the arena and The Deadman is written off TV.)
And that’s part 44 over and done with guys. That was long, creative and an absolute pleasure to share with you great people in this community. I’ll be back very soon for part 45 where we’ll see Edge move to SmackDown, Great Khali NOT become the World Heavyweight Champion and a much better SummerSlam 2007. I also want to inform you guys that in the next part, you’ll also hear my opinion on Chris Benoit after the tragedy still sadly unfolds. Stay safe and stay tuned.

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2023.06.03 20:00 treeofcalm Anyone have thoughts on Atlas Shrugged?

Atlas Srugged. I've heard about it many times across my life--as, i'm sure many people have heard of Ulysses, or Satanic Verses--but never read this, and so wanted to be able to say "yeah, I've read it and...___" I started with a healthy bit of skepticism. It's taken me ~2 weeks to get to the end of chapter 7.Dagny and James taggert, owners of a railroad company, have a strange dynamic. James begrudges his sister the talent and capability of running a company, and seems to relish in causing managerial havoc as long as it causes Dagny anguish. Something something american economy is collapsing, and James wants to give to the poor. BAD, BAD JAMES LIKING MEXICO; it's only looters there or something like that. Where have we seen this in recent popular culture? Eddie Willers likes trees, Dagny is haunted by music. So were all of us, Dagny, until YouTube was around. It's OK.
Hank Rearden's family seem to be unlikeable charicatures; they don't seem to be made without much effort. There's SO MANY great ways that first family scene could have been depicted with more depth, but it feels like an impressionistic equivalent of a slash of paint topped by a circle to represent a person in the distance, intentially portrayed as forgettable and umimportant; we are being trained to think that "unsuccessful" people such as Paul & rearedn's mother (was she ever named?) are not worth remembering. Dangerous narrative posturing.
The government is headed towards anti-competition and the "looters" are going to anyone that benefits from govt handouts (?) We, the readers, are being maneuvered to think that, in a(n unrestricted) capitalist society, activities will eventually be prodigiously productive and beneficial to all. The term "progressive" in this book seems to be slant-term for...progress towards government control?
We see an ever-increasing number of people quit their positions, adding to the idea the book's original working title was "the strike." We see a strange legislation title: the "Anti-dog-eat-dog Rule."Don't we see similar behavior contemporaraily, in Verizon/AT&T/T-Mobile/Comcast, then with our streaming networks? Very strange that these predictions, feared by Rand, would have been precipitated by Alan Greenspan, one of her "disciples".It feels oddly like, with the idea that the government, with the sanction of the general public, in passing this strange anti-competititve legislation, i'm being maneuvered into a thought of "it's good to reject the consensus of the mass of people." Still, why have so many "conservatives" that endorse Ayn Rand's principles still look to christian religion? Am I missing something?!?
Francisco D'Anconia is touted as a genius; this is why he wasted $15 million dollars to stick it to James Taggert and Orren Boyle, those conspiring men who wanted to "loot" from the handounts from Washington. Aight, cool. Musk bought Twitter for reasons, one among them so he could have a little more cover from journalists that have dogged his activities for years. And he's touted as a genius (or at least a genius-thief). Aren't many creators just thieves of ideas?
I struggled through some narrative choices on the first "lovemaking" scenes:"They were both incapable of the conception that joy is sin" [...] "She knew, even though she was too young to know the reason, that indiscriminate desire and unselective indulgence were possible only to those who regarded sex and themselves as evil" (page 106). When was this book first published? 1957? Had our religious values been that oppressively...catholic in austerity towards sex back then, or is this more deliberate narrative steering?
What's the most depraved sort of human being? "The one without a purpose." Interesting idea. A person who has no goal to strive for can easily find their course altered by someone with a larger context, thus swept away by collectivist thought. I actually find this idea to be valuable. A nugget, perhaps?
By this point "Who is John Galt?" feels like it's a narrative MacGuffin. After all, he found Atlantis, the place where heroes live in happiness unknown to the rest of the earth (Ouray, Colorado is generally accepted as where John Galt will lead us to). By the way, Here's the music we're supposed to hear for Halley's fourth symphony.
Chapter 6 is strange. Hank's only way of coping with a wedding is to project himself into a flow-like state, but the narrator perpetually drifts back to business. Lillian throws a party for their wedding...anniversary, but invites a bunch of "looter intellectuals" to use Dagny's words. Dagny happily exchanges her diamond-bracelet for the rearden-steel one. Hankey deals with guilt over having sexual urges, cause he doesn't need the wife, he just wants a woman's body to use the spooge. What is the purpose of this chapter? I imagine John Oliver screaming, YOU GOTTA LIVE A LITTLE, HANKEY!! FEEL SOME GODDAMN HAPPINESS!!
The employees treat Dagny worse as the book goes on. She's their boss, and they're second-guessing her left and right. Frightening that this still happens. Later, Dagny philosophizes with bums at a diner..hank rearden talks to a State Science Institute guy..Dagny and Eddie bemoan the circumspect criticism published about Rearden Metal, and a confrontation with Dr stadtler reveals a man bereft of personal conviction (effectively, the institute he runs issues a statement, but won't retract it despite the fact he disagrees). Odd that, in juxtaposing the hopeless wanderings of the bums--still perscpicacious enough to form an idea of morality--with Hank engaging a slimy and abstruse scientist--then the vague criticisms of metal, we're being primed to see or read "social impact" or "social welfare" and gain an impression of the exchanges and evaluations as being entirely irrelevant to useful measures such as practical business value or material wealth. Once again, as a reader, we're being maneuvered into thoughts that "government and science are bad" because they can interfere with--or limit--businessmen, and thus corporations.
Here's an odd quote: "Contradictions do not exist. whenever you think that you are facing a contradiction, check your premises." (188). I guess Ayn Rand wasn't a fan of Oscar Wilde’s The Picture of Dorian Gray. Or the idea that I can hang out with a childhood friend, see them as they are now, but in my mind's eye, also them as they were when we'd first become friends; the two are different in time, character, and form, but also not.
And then we have Ragnar criminal. A guy who really robs from the looters..?
IDK if I can read any more past chapter 7. Send help.

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2023.06.03 19:48 Precellence Reviewing the Phenomenal New Mouse Pad Line by InfinityMice

All 3 Mousepads and their packaging
I recently received the new lineup of mousepads from InfinityMice and they are all phenomenal, true competition to Artisan. All three pads I received came with a “Soft” hardness that is identical to Artisans Soft hardness. The size of the pads comes in both 490x420 mm and 490x490 mm. The packaging was great and arrived in flat boxes.

Infinite Control Pad:
The Infinite Control surprised me the most out of the three pads as I was expecting a near Artisan Zero or LGG Saturn Pro clone but this pad feels completely unique and different from those two. The surface feels like playing on a cloud, probably the most comfortable surface I’ve used on a pad ever when it comes to feeling. The stitching is virtually on Artisans level which is a huge accomplishment. In regards to speed, it’s the slowest control pad I own, it’s only very slightly slower in both static and dynamic friction than the LGG Saturn Pro, meaning it can still be used on tracking heavy games with practice.

Abrasiveness and Texture (Smoothest to Roughest): Infinite Control > LGG Saturn Pro > Artisan Zero Mid > FreeFall Control+
Speed (Faster to Slower): FreeFall Control+ > Artisan Zero Mid > LGG Saturn Pro > Infinite Control

Stitching Comparisons
S-Tier: I’d recommend this pad over both the Artisan Zero Mid and LGG Saturn Pro when it comes to looking for a top-tier control pad that can still be used on tracking heavy games, if wanting a little bit more speed, FreeFall Control+ is also my go-to for control pads.

Infinite Hybrid Pad:
The Hybrid pad shares the same top-tier stitching while having a surface w/ more texture and abrasiveness than the Artisan Hayate Otsu and LGG Venus Pro, but is still very comfortable to use. The static and dynamic speed is on the slower end of the other top-tier hybrid pads I own but is still faster than the control pads.

Abrasiveness and Texture (Smoothest to Roughest): SuperBeings Lab Memento > Artisan Hayate Otsu > LGG Venus Pro > FreeFall Control+ > Infinite Hybrid
Speed (Faster to Slower): Artisan Hayate Otsu > SuperBeings Lab > FreeFall Control+ > LGG Venus Pro > Infinite Hybrid

Stitching Comparisons
A-Tier: Slightly still prefer the Artisan Hayate Otsu, Superbeings Lab Momento, and FreeFall Control+ when it comes to hybrid pads due to being smoother and slightly faster experiences.

Infinite Speed Pad:
The speed pad is nice! The texture, speed, and stitching are almost identical to my Artisan Raiden XSoft. Artisan doesn’t make a “Soft” variant of the Raiden, and the Infinite Speed’s hardness is “Soft”. After putting in lots of time between the two pads on OW 2 this week, the Infinite Speed is slightly smoother and faster by a hair but seems to be more due to the Soft hardness. There is one flaw that I have with the Infinite Speed. It may have just been my copy, but regardless of the flat packaging, the top left corner won’t fully sticky to my desk. This virtually has 0 impact on performance but my Artisan Raiden had 0 issues with this.
Infinite Speed not fully sticking to the desk

Abrasiveness and Texture (Smoothest to Roughest): Infinite Speed > Artisan Raiden XSoft (Almost identical)
Speed (Faster to Slower): Infinite Speed > Artisan Raiden XSoft (Almost identical)

Stitching Comparison
A-Tier: S-Tier without the base issues.
Overall, these pads are top-tier and are 100% worth checking out if you’re looking for cheaper alternatives to Artisan. They also have one more limited edition pad called the “Vagabond” which is supposed to be similar to the Hybrid pad but is smoother and less textured which potentially would bring that pad also up to S tier.

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2023.06.03 19:44 NamelessNanashi [The Gods of Dragons: Beginning] Ch 15 - Burn Baby Burn

--- Table of Contents ---
Autumn 4986, 16 Aoimoth
Shon and Nangran hobbled their horses at the base of a steep hill deep in the woods north of Hamerfoss. They'd left at fourth bell, before any of the other Squires had woken for their morning run, and it had still taken them hours of riding through narrow trails to reach this place. At least they hadn't run into any monsters. The snow that had dusted the landscape during the night lay thick here, crunching underfoot and occasionally flopping noisily to either side as it fell from the tall evergreen branches.
Shon adjusted the strap of his sword across his chest and reached his left hand back to brush shaking fingers over its hilt. He'd been glad when the Paladins insisted he take it with him. To them, it marked Shon as a representative of Hengist and the Temple. To Shon, it was a sign of his hard work and resolve. Having it was a comfort.
Nangran started up the hill, and Shon hurried to follow. The smith hadn’t spoken a word since they set out, not even to try and ease Shon’s anxiety, for which Shon was grateful. Master Daunas had tried to sound confident as Shon saddled his borrowed horse, and The Major General had offered him encouragement as they mounted. Neither realized how much that just drove home the desperation of the situation in Shon’s mind.
The smith pulled his heavy cloak tighter, and Shon looked away. He hadn’t bothered to wear his cloak. He'd never really felt chilled in the winter like others seemed to. Now that he knew why, he wished he had. Cold continued to swirl around him, enhanced by his worries. If he could just block those emotions, the power would never have been a problem to begin with.
The trees thinned the higher they climbed, disappearing almost entirely as they crested the top of the hill. The clearing looked over the treetops, offering an unimpeded view of the horizon. Forest all around, with flatland to the south and rocky mountain peaks to the north. Only a handful of small trees grew in the clearing, and in the middle stood a little ramshackle hut only slightly larger than an outhouse.
Nangran threw his arm out, stopping Shon from walking past him, "Don't touch anything. And don't be surprised if he says no right off."
Shon nodded, trying to swallow down his fear so it wouldn't be seen in his eyes. Dropping his hand, Nangran started forward again, finishing, "Be honest, but not insulting." The instructions, -or perhaps advice?- seemed like common courtesy, which made Shon wonder why quiet Nangran had bothered to say anything.
As they drew closer to the little shack, Shon could make out a sign on the door. He squinted to read it and had just made out 'No Soliciting' when the door swung open, banging against the wall and sending birds into flight. An old man, so thin he looked like a skeleton with yellow skin pulled tight across its bones, stormed out. Wearing nothing but a loincloth, he was shaking a thick stick at them that glinted with red rubies in the low autumn light.
"I already paid my dues for this decade! So you can take your request and shove it-" Shon’s hand instinctively reached for his sword, but Nangran just crossed his arms over his barrel chest. The old -virtually naked- man stopped yelling mid-rant and lifted one shriveled arm to shade his eyes as he squinted at them, "Eh? Flintchest, what’re you doing way out here with a blasted mage in tow?"
Rather than answer, Nangran started forward again, he didn't much care for talking, let alone shouting. Looking from Nangran to the loincloth man, Shon slowly lowered his arm, but still took position to the left and just behind the Smith as they approached the crazy man with the glittering club.
"No mage." Nangran said as he came right up to the strange old man, "Squire." he glanced over his shoulder at Shon and finished, "Sorcerer."
The old man spat on the ground and moved his squint to Shon. Running his eyes from the top of his black head to the tip of his polished boots and back, exaggerating the movement before he stopped at the Squire’s cold blue eyes.
He spat again, then barked "Where's your familiar?" scanning first the ground at Shon's feet then the sky above his head.
Shon blinked at him, furrowing his brow in confusion at the question. The mage snapped his fingers impatiently, "Your familiar! All Sorcerers have a familiar."
Nangran came to his rescue, "Just woke last night," he said shortly.
The mage spat again but didn't argue, "Well, come in then." Shon looked sideways at Nangran, but the Smith had already begun following the skinny old man into the shack. Shon hurried to catch up.
Inside, Shon's eyes were assaulted with a sparkling rainbow of colors. The room they'd entered was considerably larger than the outside would suggest, with plush carpet and a stuffed high-back armchair in front of a blazing fire in the opposite wall. Shelves full of exotic plants, glowing glass jars, and glittering stones filled every available space, reflecting off one another and setting streaks of light to dance on the floor and walls like sun rays through crystal.
There was too much to take in, so Shon focused on their host. The old man was slipping into a thick robe of deep purple velvet. He'd hung the club on the wall beside the door, which looked just as decrepit on this side as it had on the outside.
"Make a habit of greeting visitors half-naked and swinging an old fireball wand?" Nangran asked as he slipped out of his cloak.
"Keeps the conversations short." the old man replied tersely, tying his belt and turning to his guests. With boney knuckles on boney hips and glare firmly planted on his wrinkled face, he snapped, "Don't bother getting comfortable, Flintchest; you'll be leaving soon enough."
The Smith ignored him, hanging his cloak on the hook that had presumably held the mage's robe. "Got a favor to ask," he said, but the old man was already shaking his head,
"More like a favor to cash in. That's the only reason you're in here and not smoking in a hole outside."
Nangran ignored the threat and motioned from Shon to the old man and back. "Archmage Ivelm." The mage looked Shon up and down again as Nangran made the introductions, “Squire Shon.”
"Not much longer, I'd say." Ivelm said to Nangran as he finished his second examination, "It's to the Guild with this one. Too much magic." he turned his head and spat in a brass can by the door. It rang out with a loud ‘ting!' and Ivelm sniffed, looking down at Nangran again, "What do you want, Flintchest?"
"Need a seal. So the boy doesn't freeze Hamerfoss more than it already is." the smith crossed his arms, watching the mage and somehow still seeming completely at ease.
"Eh?!" Ivelm exclaimed, leaning far forward. Shon had to try hard not to crinkle his nose as the old man brought his face close enough that Shon could smell Ivelm's breath. Garlic, the mage ate a lot of garlic…
"So… you don't want to be a mage, do you?" he demanded, glaring down his nose at him. Shon shook his head and would have answered with a 'no ser.' except the mage continued, "Rather swing around some hunk of metal like a brute?"
Shon blinked stupidly, and Nangran cleared his throat, "Watch what you say about my swords, old man."
Ivelm ignored the smith as soundly as Nangran had ignored the Archmage, and continued to Shon, "The powers of the universe are at your fingertips. Blood blessed with the strength of the elements, and you wanna throw it all away," he threw his arms into the air, still uncomfortably close, "And for what? Some illusion of an honorable death by the sword?"
Shon didn't know what to say. He looked past the affronted mage's face, only an inch from his own, to Nangran. But the smith gave no sign he was going to help. Shon’s future depended on convincing this strange old man, this Archmage, to help…
Shon wasn't the type to try and convince anyone of anything, but the least he could do was explain himself. Shon stepped back from the mage to address him from a more comfortable distance. "I chose to dedicate my life to perfecting my art, and my art is martial combat," he said. Ivelm wrinkled his nose, his mouth twisting as if he were going to spit again, but Shon continued, "magic would be better served in the hands of someone who wants it badly enough to work for it. Like I've worked for my martial skills."
Ivelm leaned away from Shon, his eyebrows lifted into his frizzled gray hair. Shon looked to Nangran, hoping for some sign that this was a good response. The smith smiled from behind the mage.
"Soooo…" Ivelm drew the word out, "You think only those who dedicate themselves to strict study and practice should wield the power of the universe?" he leaned forward again, turning his head and fixing one eye on Shon like a bird. As if trying to catch him in a lie.
Shon nodded, confused, then asked, "Isn't that what it takes to effectively wield magic? Focused study?"
Ivelm didn't answer the question, instead turning his face to examine Shon with the other eye, scanning him up and down yet again. The old man had looked him up and down so much Shon wouldn't be surprised if the next question were about his hair or boots.
But Ivelm didn't ask another question. Instead, he stood straight and spat into the brass can with another ringing 'ting!' "I like this one," he said, turning his back on Shon and facing Nangran, "But it's too much." he shook his head, lifting his hands in helpless surrender, "Too much power, and ice at that. Stubborn element that one. And it's so finicky to block just elemental magic..."
Ivelm continued talking but Shon heard very little of it. A hole had opened in his gut, and it felt like his heart was racing his stomach to fall into it. But Nangran just rolled his eyes at the mage, interrupting, "Used to be the name in new magic items... made shackles to hold Archmages." he squinted at Ivelm, who had frozen mid-head shake, "Must've gotten rusty out…"
Ivelm snapped his fingers under the Smith's nose to stop him talking, "The mind does not rust, Flintchest!" he huffed, one bare foot tapping under his robe, "Not like your swords and shriveling muscles." Nangran just stared stubbornly, his thick, muscled arms still crossed over his broad chest.
The mage continued to tap his foot, his nose in the air. But as the silence stretched, Ivelm looked down at the smith, who continued to say nothing. The silent battle of wills ended when Ivelm threw his arms up in disgust and shook a finger under Nangran's nose, nearly hitting it, declaring, "I'll show you. I'll make a gem especially for this lad, and you'll see the mind only continues to grow sharper!"
He spun on his heel back to Shon, who had just made out the smith's returned smile from behind the mage when the old man snapped his fingers in Shon's face, making him jump. "Well, what are you waiting for? Come here so I can take some measurements!" Ivelm swung around again and marched across the room to a large workbench with plants and gems scattered across it. Shon scrambled after him, praying his thanks to Hengist and suddenly feeling light enough to float. His anxieties dropping away and melting like snow in summer.
***
It was already noon, and no one had come to see Her. She jumped up to grab the bars of Her window, pulling Herself up to peak out but seeing nothing but new snow and tree trunks. She was full to bursting with nervous energy, amplifying every sound and sensation. Footsteps sounded outside Her door, and She dropped from the window, sprinting across the room and resting Her ear on the wood.
“Ran, recheck the lab. Brom, with me.” Archmage Morndancer spoke with his strange alternation between draconic and common as he passed Her door without stopping. She could easily make out the swish of their robes on the stone hall leading away. Three people, Brom, Ran, and Archmage Morndancer. And yet the scurrying of too many feet to be only the two apprentices and Archmage Shaloon, sounded from the floor above. There were strangers in her tower again. Many strangers. Something was happening, something big…
She ran to Her window again, just for something to do, seeking some way to burn off some of the anxiety of not knowing what was going on around her.
A roar from down the hall, a roar of pain, sent ice washing through her veins. She slammed into the door at full speed. Pounding on the wood, She called out, “Brom?! Ran?!” Nothing. Then a yip cut short, followed by barking and yowling.
She shook the handle with both hands, rattling the door on its hinges, “BROM! RAN!” Something was happening to Her treasures, something terrible… The door handle began to glow, the metal warping and sagging as it melted. The knowledge that She would be in more trouble than She had ever been in before was nothing compared to Her terror. She wrenched the handle back with all Her might, splashing molten metal across Her bed, lighting fires that flared in her panic, and sending smoke to curl up to the ceiling.
She didn’t care. She shouldered the door open and ran.
“Red?!” She passed the first open door but couldn’t stop as Ran called out to Her. Reaching Her treasures' room, She tried to stop but slipped, slamming into the ground with a sticky splash. A final whining bark started a buzzing in Her ears as She stared, transfixed, at Her hands. They were painted red. Warm and sticky. The overpowering stench of iron nearly made Her gag as She looked up to see Morndancer toss aside a glittering golden wolf pup, the body flopping limply over the corpse of its mother and siblings.
Her world went red.
***
The last sample was taken care of, but something roared with enough ferocity to shatter glass.
Morndancer's head snapped around in time for him to fall back, shielding his face with his hands as the Firewyrm exploded. White-hot fire engulfed Her and spread out to the stone floor and walls. His robes began to smoke, the new fire protection spells woven into them being overpowered by the sheer ferocity of the blaze.
Brom had no such spells, and he had only managed a single step towards the girl before he fell to the ground, writhing for only a moment before lying still. The Archmage heard Ran scream from the hall before the journeyman stumbled past the door, flailing wildly. Barely discernible as human inside the flames.
The Firewyrm moved towards him, stepping through Brom’s head, turned to ash, and blown up to dance in the air on the same heatwaves causing the girl's hair to wave wildly about Her. She didn't seem to notice, Her face was expressionless and her eyes glowed as red as the scales across Her cheek. Morndancer tried to snap his fingers, but the golden collar around Her neck melted, Her clothes burning off and leaving Her naked and terrible in the flames.
His robe was burning now, and only the pain of that could pull his eyes from the Firewyrm as he pointlessly tried to beat the fires off. He fell back, hitting the wall, which drooped, sagging and dripping molten stone onto his head and face. Then he fell further back, into a gate that opened behind him.
Shaloon pulled him through the portal and into the library three stories up. The Firewyrm roared again and the tower walls shook with the force of it. The gate closed, but Morndancer continued to burn. He could hear screaming. Was it him? Was he screaming? Fire burst up the spiral stairs in the middle of the room, and apprentices, both their own and many sent from the central and western Talon, scrambled about in a panic, some even leaping from the windows.
Shaloon cursed, holding out her hand and summoning her sword again. She had to draw the circle five times before a second gate finally formed, and she dove through it, pulling Morndancer along with her as it quickly closed. An apprentice reached through, and his arm fell at Morndancer’s feet, miles away in the sitting room of his manor back in Smildna.
He laughed. Shaloon slapped him, and he laughed. Ronni, his daughter, burst through the door, her own daughter, only a year old, perched on her hip, and still, he laughed. “What’s wrong?! What happened to him?!” he barely registered his daughter's words and continued to laugh, rolling around on the ground in mirthful madness.
“The Firewyrm She…” Shaloon started, but Morndancer yelled over her in draconic,
“She is true! She is pure! She is rage! The children will come and raise the grandchildren! We have only to await the coming of those Chosen!” the room faded around him, becoming washed out and gray then finally black as he continued to laugh and shout, “They take those who slew them and use them to raise themselves anew…”
He couldn’t feel his burns or the hands trying to settle him. He saw only darkness and stars. And the eyes of his Master boring into his soul from the outer planes.
***
Shon couldn't remember ever feeling so drained in his life. He'd been tired before, exhausted even, but it had never felt quite like this. The eccentric Archmage Ivelm had ordered him to 'empty his energy' into stone after stone. Measuring the weight, color, and temperature of each. Making notes in chalk directly on his table and talking to himself. Shon was shocked the first time he saw the smooth rock handed to him change from a translucent white to an onyx as black as his hair, but by the time they'd gone through the twentieth stone, Shon had decided to stop counting.
Ivelm, however, seemed to get more and more excited with each one. Giving Shon reason to suspect the mage may be taking the energy for himself. After what felt like hours, Ivelm finally stoppered the potion he'd mixed with the most recent jewel, glowing a soft pale blue, and stepped back from the workbench, bony hands on bony hips.
"It can be done." Ivelm swiveled to face Nangran, "He's strong, I don’t know how he managed not to manifest until now, but it's all focused in one elemental direction." he rubbed his chin and looked at the ceiling, completely ignoring Shon's arched eyebrow. "It has a bit of divine flavor as well. But I suppose that shouldn't be surprising for a training Paladin." The mage stopped musing and glared down his nose at Nangran, who had made himself comfortable in the oversized wingback chair by the fire, "It will have to be a lot bigger than a piece of jewelry would allow."
The smith just hummed and sipped at his mug. When had he gotten a mug? Shon looked from one old man to the other. It was apparent Ivelm wanted Nangran to ask him for details, but the ever stoic smith said nothing.
Shon was tired. His limbs felt heavy, and the weight of his simple uniform felt more like platemail. He was just about to ask what the Archmage meant, to hurry them along, when Ivelm threw his hands in the air and said, "You'll need to find somewhere to put it. I would recommend that." he pointed at the hilt of Shon's sword over his shoulder, continuing, "If the lad is insisting on swinging a metal stick around instead of harnessing the ultimate powers of the universe then that same stick might as well sap the power literally as well as figuratively." Shon arched an incredulous eyebrow but Ivelm wasn't paying attention, finishing, "I can get it down to about an inch and a half orb. At the smallest. If you want something different, say so now."
Nangran set his mug on the ground and stood with a grunt and a groan. Shon just wanted to go home and sleep for a week, so when the smith reached for the hilt of his sword for a closer look Shon hardly noticed, until the squat smith jerked it down to eye level. Shon swung his arms like a drowning man and stepped wide to prevent himself from falling over.
"Quit wigglin'," Nangran grumbled, studying the sword's pommel with a professional eye. "One and a half'll do, preferably in a tear…"
The mage snorted and continued to ignore the struggling half crouched Shon, his voice dripping sarcasm as he addressed the smith, "Shall I wrap it in silk for you as well?"
"Na." Nangran let go of the sword, and Shon stood straight, lifting his leg to shake out the knee. "Drop it off when you’re done." the Mage snorted again but didn't counter.
None of them were interested in extending the visit, so Nangran grabbed his heavy cloak and shrugged it on while Shon waited by the door. "It will be at least a fortnight," Ivelm called from his position by the workbench, not about to walk them out.
Nangran grunted his confirmation and opened the battered and decrepit door, letting the wind and early autumn snow blow in on their way out. Shon followed numbly, his eyes unfocused as he walked, and ran right into the much shorter man. Nangran hardly moved as Shon bounced off of him. He was squinting into the distance, one large hand shading his eyes. Shon stared at Nangran for a moment before following the direction of his gaze over the tree line.
Smoke. A LOT of smoke. The black clouds billowed violently into the sky, occasionally lit from below by sparks shot high into the air.
"Elm!" Nangran shouted. Shon had never heard the man call so loudly. The Archmage must have also been shocked because the door to his hut swung open and he stuck his head out to look to either side, eyes wide.
"Flintchest, what?" but he soon saw what, "But, that's the old chemist's tower… What?" he stood in shocked confusion for a heartbeat before turning back into the hut. Shon looked from the shack to Nangran, but before he could say anything, the mage was back, struggling with two long rods, one blue with what looked like waves painted all around, the other black and studded with diamonds.
"Don't just stand there!" Ivelm snapped at the two as he finally managed to slip the blue rod into a sheath at his side. He then pointed the diamond rod at the space between two close-growing trees. Shon heard him say something unintelligible, and one of the diamonds shot out of the tip of the rod to hover between the trees before expanding into a portal.
Beyond the magical gate, Shon could hear the fire roar. It sounded how he imagined the burning hells might sound, but as he followed the two men through, he realized his imagination was tame by comparison.
The smell of burning flesh and hair choked him as they stepped clear of the gate's magic. The heat smashed into them like a wall, and all three brought their arms up to shield their faces. Around them were the charred remains of what looked like humans, their faces buried in the mud as if they'd been trying to run from the blaze. Shon had to swallow the bile that rose in his throat and focused instead on the fire Ivelm had said was a tower.
It was completely engulfed in bright flames of all colors. Squinting through the light, he could see the stone walls melting like wax. The arch of the doorway sagged in the middle, and Shon's eyes went wide. Someone was in there.
He would've had to shout over the roar of the flames, but it didn’t matter; Ivelm was already raising the blue wand, jerking his fingers in strange ways and mouthing words impossible to hear. Water shot out the tip of the wand with the force of a ballista and hissed against the glowing stones.
It wasn't possible. It must be a trick of the flickering flames. But the figure turned its face to them, long hair whipping about as it took steps in their direction.
"Don't just stand there, boy!" Ivelm screamed. "They must have a fire-resist spell; those things don't last forever!"
Nangran grabbed Shon’s upper arm, pulling him a step closer to the fire and down so he could shout in his ear, "Freeze a path."
Shon swallowed. He was so tired, literally drained. He didn't know what to do or how to do it. But the figure in the fire reached out to them only to pull away from a drop of molten rock. Shon fell to his knees, placing his hands on the ground and pleading silently to Hengist. He didn’t know what to do, didn’t know how to control the power. He tried picturing a path of snow between himself and the tower base, concentrating on it until the mental image overlaid the real world, as he did when imagining phantom fighters during practice.
Ice snaked its way from Shon's fingers towards the burning tower along his mental path, powered by the fear that he wouldn't be fast enough to save the person inside. The water from Ivelm's wand helped carve the way, and Shon grunted physically as he struggled to push mentally. His breathing came heavy and ragged. He could feel the fire melting the edges of the ice as if it were a part of him. Still, he fought back and forced it to continue to form into solid sheets moving closer and closer to the figure still trapped in the tower.
Wherever the ice formed solid, it stayed. The fire drawing back from it until, finally, it reached the doorway. He urged the ice to climb up the doorframe, to hold it in place and keep it from falling, from moving at all.
Shon was seeing double. He struggled to focus on the figure and flinched as they stepped onto the frozen path. The ice hissed and melted under their bare unsteady feet, he could feel it... feel them, their heat, on his ice.
It was a young woman. Or an older girl. She was naked; her clothes burned away by the fire. Her long hair was being blown forward by the heat of the burning tower, obscuring her face. As she moved closer, Shon could make out strange red stripes snaking around her body, standing in stark relief against her pale skin.
Ivelm stepped in front of him then, throwing Nangran's cloak around her shoulders as she crumpled to the ground. Nangran himself knelt beside Shon, resting one massive hand on the Squire's back. "You can stop, lad…" his voice trailed off, and Shon felt an emptiness open in his chest. No one could have survived that, not if they hadn't already made it to the entrance like the girl. As if to punctuate the thought, Shon managed to focus his eyes only to see the tower's entrance wall fold and collapse in on itself, the stones flowing like soft wax.
--- Table of Contents ---
Sorry for the double post today. I wanted to keep Ch 14 & 15 together.
Thanks for making it this far, you are the real MVP

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2023.06.03 19:39 NamelessNanashi [The Gods of Dragons: Beginning] Ch 14 - Ice Ice Baby

--- Table of Contents ---
Autumn 4986, 15 Aoimoth
“Slow down, Squire!” Master Daunas walked around the sixteen Squires. They were all going through the basic motions of knife fighting together, but Shon knew the Weaponsmaster was talking to him specifically. He'd fallen into the rhythm of steel clanging off steel as the eight pairs of Squires went through the practiced strikes of a rehearsed fight. His partner was keeping up, but just barely. If Shon sped up, the boy would fumble, and Shon could disarm him. But that wasn’t the point of this exercise. It wasn’t a sparring match; it was a two man kata. Shon let out a long exhale and slowed down, matching his partner’s pace.
“Sorry,” Kefir, muttered to Shon, “You should try and get Zihler next time. He won’t slow you down.”
Shon arched an eyebrow at Kefir as the two pivoted in unison, spinning but staying together, so they switched places and continued without breaking rhythm. Or that was what was supposed to happen. Kefir stumbled just a little. He still wasn’t very good at quick pivots like that, and knife forms were full of them. Shon slowed down to wait for him to recover, matching his thrust with a counter as rehearsed.
“Don’t give me that look. I know you want to go faster. Zihler’s the most likely to keep... up...” Kefir had to space the last two words as they dodged each other again. More twists and turns he tended to overshoot.
He wasn’t wrong. Shon did want to go faster, wanted to push himself to his limits, and always just a little beyond, but “Speed isn’t the point of this exercise.” Shon said, and Kefir’s brow furrowed. Though if concentrating on Shon’s words or the continued form Shon didn’t know, “It's precision and practice. Keep partnering with Rerves, who's even worse, and you won't improve.”
They slammed together, the hilts of their daggers locking together as they sidestepped in tight circles. Shon could see at least ten different ways he could end a match right here. His left hand was free, as this was a single dagger exercise, and his opponents hardly ever paid attention to his feet. But that wasn’t the point, and Kefir would learn nothing from Shon downing him now, even if it was.
“Thanks,” Kefir spat sarcastically. Shon gave him a purposefully deadpan look in response, and he continued, “You’re the same, though. You won’t get better if you pick the weakest partners.” the two disengaged, jumping back and falling into a ready stance in one motion. Kefir took a heartbeat longer than some of the other boys but didn’t stumble at this speed as he had the last three times they went through the drill.
“I’m better than Zihler…” Shon said, not in pride or arrogance but in truth. When they had first started knife fighting weeks ago, he had partnered with those who seemed to be at the same level as himself or higher. Pushing himself to reach their level and surpass it. Add to that the fact that he often used his free time for more practice, and Shon had jumped to the top of the class as usual only a week into this new weapon.
Shon brought the topic back around to his point, “Practice is practice no matter how fast I go, as long as I have precision.” and, as if to prove his point, the form reached the culminating move, where Shon and Kefir needed to thrust at each other while turning just enough for the blade to pass by their chests. Shon slowed his thrust only at the end, just enough for Kefir to finish his dodge. Adjusting speed in the middle of a strike without pulling it completely wasn't easy, and they both knew it.
That was the end of the kata, and they both stepped back. Kefir looked down at his knife, sighing, “I suck at this, give me a shield or a hammer, and you wouldn’t have to hold yourself back.” he glanced up at Shon and forced a smile he obviously didn’t feel, “Then maybe I could teach you a thing or two…”
Shon nodded, perfectly serious, and when Kefir didn’t seem to understand, he added, “Exactly.”
The bell rang and the other Squires started heading for the weapons rack to return their knives, but Shon held Kefir in place with his eyes. He looked confused, his expression asking the question before his words could, so Shon explained, “You're better at armor and shields than me.”
That actually got a genuine smile from Kefir, “Everyone is better with armor and shields than you, Shon.” Shon humphed but couldn't argue, and Kefir laughed, “You know, if you spent your extra time actually practicing with the stuff you need practice in, instead of the things you're already the best at, you would get better.”
Shon ran his fingers through sweaty hair. It was only two finger widths long but still needed to be cut. He wanted to argue that practicing with the heavy weapons without armor in his free time was the only reason he was still the top in those as well. But instead, he nodded in acquiescence to Kefir’s observation.
“Hey,” Kefir stepped forward and poked Shon with the hilt of his dagger. Even with his thicker winter uniform on, they avoided touching him, “I get what you’re saying. We each have our own strengths and weaknesses. Thank you for trying to help me with mine.” The thanks was genuine this time, now that the frustration of the practice was over, and Shon nodded. Kefir continued, “Why don’t we make a deal? I’ll let you help me catch up to you in this if you let me help you with armor work. Master Daunas wants to get you in plate, but if you can’t even move in banded mail, you’ll never make it in the heavier stuff.”
Shon let his head fall back in frustration but nodded. Kefir laughed and the two returned their daggers without further words. Shon split from the rest of the stragglers in the courtyard, moving towards the bench beside the wall and the barrel for catching rainwater beside it. This deep into autumn, the water was sometimes frozen in the mornings, but Shon preferred it that way. Reaching in, he splashed handfuls of it on the back of his neck. The others would be heading for the hot showers, but with sixteen of them and only ten shower heads, Shon would wait until they were all done before washing properly.
“I’ll meet you after study time!” Kefir called as he walked by to try and reach the showers with the first group. Shon waved without turning around. He knew Kefir was right. He should focus his extra time on improving his weaknesses. But that didn’t mean he had to like it.
***
The mess hall where they had their meals had one long table set in the middle with enough space for fifteen Squires on each side. Around it were set smaller circular tables for the Paladins stationed in Hamerfoss and one larger near the door for the officers. Against one wall was another long table with plates, bowls, and food where they would each gather their meal before finding their seats.
The seats weren’t assigned, but Shon always sat at the farthest end of the Squire’s table, with his left facing the walkway so he wouldn’t bump anyone with his elbow as he ate. No one ever took the spot. It was an unspoken consensus amongst the Squires that that was Shon’s seat. The rest tended to congregate in the middle, talking and poking friendly fun at each other, extending their break into the dinner meal.
Shon took his place and started eating without joining in. They didn’t try to include him most of the time, and he was content to just listen. “Hey, Shon,” Rerves called from down the table, and Shon looked up from his plate to show he was listening, “I hear Kefir’s going to help you with armor tonight. Can I come?” Shon shrugged, turning back to his meal. Rerves went back to his conversation, and dinner continued as usual. The Squires ignoring Shon.
They filtered out of the mess hall as they each finished their dinner at their own pace, some heading to the chapel for prayer and others to the library for study. Shon made his way to the library, pausing in the doorway and debating with himself. If he joined the others at the larger table, they would try and talk to him. They seemed to think it was their duty to include him if he was there. But if he sat alone at the two-man table by the window, they would leave him alone. It meant he wouldn’t be able to ask them questions if one came up, but it also meant they wouldn’t bother him with pointless asides…
Tonight, he joined the study group. The subject they'd started a few weeks ago wasn’t one he had taken to easily, an in-depth history of Gasha province, so he wanted to be able to talk when needed.
It started as soon as he finished the first page, “So Shon, when do you think Master Veon-Zih will be back?”
“Winter Solstice,” Shon answered shortly, rereading the sentence. The others whispered around him about Master Veon-Zih, something about if he would dance with the pretty baker again this year…
“Hey Shon, do you know if Monks train in dancing too?”
Shon placed his finger over the paragraph he'd reached, knowing he would have to reread it after the interruption. He shook his head. When they continued to look at him, he sighed, glaring up at them. This was supposed to be study time… “He learned how after he left the Monastery.”
He reread his paragraph and managed to finish the chapter before running his hand through his hair in frustration at the text. Looking up, he said, “We’ve read about the war between Gasha and Swailand, but this doesn’t say anything about why they went to war in the first place.”
“Fishing rights, I think?” Thom answered, flipping through his own book, “Knowing those Horsa Bast…” he cut off before finishing the curse, glancing at the Paladin acting as librarian, before continuing, “I bet they wanted to extend their fishing to the area around Gasha, and they are just as likely to fight each other as us.”
Rehlien slid a new book Shon’s way, “Here, read this one next. It gets into the justification a little more than that one.” Shon nodded his thanks, taking the book and placing it under the one he was still finishing.
But his question had opened the door to more derailing chatter, “You really like to know the why of things, don’t you, Shon?”
Shon nodded, hoping this talk would at least be relevant, but “You’re like that in etiquette too. That’s probably why you struggle so much.” Shon shrugged. Etiquette didn’t seem to have a point, but that wasn’t what they were supposed to be studying now, “I find some things ‘just are’ because of tradition…” the boy trailed off as Shon glared at him, his words freezing in his throat. When silence had returned, Shon went back to his book. He should've just sat alone.
***
Kefir and Rerves were already waiting in the sparring ring by the time Shon showed up dressed in his banded mail. The armor rubbed uncomfortably around his neck and the thick gambeson underneath bunched at his joints, limiting his range of motion by at least a few inches. It also weighed him down, which he'd managed to convince himself was good for strength training, but was incredibly frustrated by for sparring.
Kefir already had his sword and shield and held an extra bastard sword for him, so Shon went right for the ring, stifling a frustrated sigh as he took the proffered weapon.
Rerves grinned at the look on Shon’s face, saying, “We figured you'd be miserable enough in the armor alone, that we should channel some of Soleil's compassion and let you use your best weapon instead of the hammer.” to which Shon was grateful. Making him practice in the armor with a weapon he still hadn’t mastered would've been adding salt to the wound.
“Let’s do some stretches and warm-ups first.” Kefir started, “Your problem isn’t being afraid to take a hit with the armor,” Rerves laughed out loud, but Kefir continued with only a grin, “It’s in having to adjust your mobility. So let's re-imprint that before we try any sparring.”
They went through stretches, the two of them seeming to match Shon in flexibility only because he was hampered by the armor, then moved on to solo sword forms. Even though the armor was only about thirty-five pounds evenly distributed, Shon still felt sluggish. When they moved on to sparring, Rerves beat him soundly while Kefir watched, tilting his head back and forth like Master Daunas and trying to give advice that didn’t help. Shon could fight, he knew the proper blocks and parries better than they did, but too often he would either not make up for his lack of speed or would overcompensate and swing too hard.
Kefir took his turn, lifting his shield and watching Shon raise his sword to the ready, “Honestly, Shon, I don’t know what to do besides have you practice more and just get used to it.”
“Sometimes that’s all you can do,” Rerves said from the side as he slipped off his helmet. Shon knew they were right in some regards but couldn’t entirely dismiss his frustration at the thought that he was missing something that he needed to learn and not just have beaten into him. He was grateful for his companion’s help but annoyed at their inability to teach.
Rerves gave the order to "Lay on!" and Shon and Kefir engaged. Shon could predict Kefir's moves, could practically see them in his mind's eye, but barely reacted in time, his arm not bending as far or fast as he wanted it to. He gritted his teeth, glaring at the other Squire, trying to sidestep around but moving too slow compared to Kefir, who just needed to turn in place. Shon took a step back and planted his feet. If he could force Kefir to make the larger motions, then perhaps he could focus on redirecting the boy’s attacks.
Kefir hesitated. Shon was most dangerous when he stood his ground, and they both knew it. The hesitation just gave Shon more time to try and strategize. Not that it had helped at all before. Maybe if he could somehow slow Kefir down, or focus on trapping his weapon, then it wouldn’t matter that Shon wasn’t as fast as he would be without the damn armor. Kefir tested Shon’s guard with a few half-hearted attacks that Shon deflected, waiting. When the other Squire finally committed fully, Shon let go of his sword with his left hand, twisted to dodge, and grabbed Kefir’s sword arm.
Just stop. Stop long enough for me to hit you… Kefir tried to pull away but couldn’t. Despite the poor grip Shon had with the thick gloves that were part of the armor, the two Squires seemed lashed together. Kefir twisted his shoulders so he could lift his shield to deflect Shon’s oncoming attack, but his feet didn’t move. His eyes went wide, and his shield came up barely in time to hit Shon’s sword, the tip still reaching over to clang off Kefir’s helm with a glancing blow.
Kefir fell backward and Shon, still clinging to his arm, was pulled on top of him. The boy yelled, and Shon rolled, letting go of Kefir and hearing something like glass breaking over the clanging of armor and screaming of his fellow. Shon rolled to absorb the shock of the fall and twisted to find Kefir on his back, his knees still straight and his boots stuck to the ground. Encased in ice.
The ice climbed up his boots to his shins, but Kefir was gripping his arm, trying to pull more ice from where Shon had been holding him. It continued to grow, soon encasing his hand and sword hilt. Rerves rushed forward, trying to help pry the sword free while the ice on his legs grew past his boots and under his greaves. Kefir screamed again, in pain and fear.
The Paladins on the wall began yelling, their leader taking command, sending some to help the boys and others to run for the fortress. Shon watched in horror as Kefir’s legs and arm were slowly encased in ice, his lips trembling and turning blue. He would be covered soon, Shon knew it, could picture it happening, like a waking nightmare. It would trap his brother Squire and anyone else touching it…
The ice started clawing at Rerves fingers, trying to gain hold and freeze him too.
“What in all the hells?!” Master Daunas showed up with a gaggle of Paladins and the Cleric, who all fell around the boys. Some took out their belt knives and tried to break the ice apart; others began to chant spells to either melt the ice or keep Kefir warm.
Master Daunas searched above the throng for answers and, finding Shon, cursed. He ran around the larger group, grabbing Shon by the arm and wrenching him away, practically dragging him across the courtyard towards the fortress proper. Someone called out in triumph as Shon reached the fortress door and Daunas forced him through it.
What had happened? Had they freed Kefir? Would he be alright? What happened?!
Daunas was still cursing as he slammed the door and spun on Shon, who stared blankly through the Weaponmaster. Panic, he was trying so hard not to panic. Was trying to figure out what had happened, trying to play through the entire thing again, picturing it from outside his body. Was the ice what had allowed him to hold on to Kefir? Was it still climbing up Kefir's legs? Was that why the older Squire wasn’t able to pull back and block properly? Had Shon...
“Calm down, boy.” Daunas reached for Shon’s shoulders but pulled back a moment later, shaking his hands and cursing as they reddened from the cold, “Breathe, boy. Look at me, think warm thoughts.”
Think warm thoughts? What did that even mean? Shon found Daunas’s eyes and saw the Weaponmaster scared for the first time, “Breathe, slow and steady, like old man V taught you. You need to control your energy…” his lips were pale and trembling, his breath coming out in a cloud before him. had it been that cold outside? Shon couldn’t feel it...
Shon closed his eyes and breathed. Control his energy… He pulled himself in, finding his center and gathering around it, “That’s it, boy, like that.” Shon breathed in his energy, his ki, holding it in his gut, storing it for later when he could use it to focus a strike and give it more power, just like Master Veon-Zih had taught him. And just like Master had taught him, he tried to let go of his worries, to clear his mind, if only for now.
Kefir would be alright, almost every adult here could cast healing spells, and at least half of them were with him now. It was okay. Shon could relax, let go, calm down… Suddenly exhausted, Shon nearly collapsed right there in the hallway. Daunas caught him, slowly lowering him to the stones.
Shon could feel himself slipping into unconsciousness, but not fast enough to miss Master Daunas’s last curse, “Damn it, boy, why did you have to be a Sorcerer?”
***
“He has to go to the Mages Guild.” Major General Davies Selibra, Paladin head of Hamerfoss, stated to those gathered in his office. It was a simple room containing two sets of closed cabinets on either side of a large desk facing the door with two seats positioned in front of it. Shon sat in one of those seats, his head hanging and fists clenched tightly in his lap.
Master Daunas slammed his palm down on the desk. He seemed too agitated to sit, or perhaps he just didn’t want to sit next to Shon, who was radiating cold like a fire radiated heat, “We can’t, Selibra! He’s the most promising fighter I’ve ever trained. He’ll lose too much time.” the Weaponmaster's words puffed out as white fog from his lips.
Major General Selibra sat behind his desk and rubbed his temples, “It’s the law Daunas, he either needs to get a clearance or be sealed.”
“Can’t be a Paladin with the tattoo…” Smith Nangran muttered from his position leaning on the door. Shon was too focused on his predicament to wonder why the Smith was even here. A thin layer of ice began to form at his feet.
“It’s the law…” Selibra said again, weary, “If he had awakened sooner, he might have been able to get his clearance before training, but…”
Daunas threw his hands into the air, bellowing, “It takes years to get a clearance. If they even let him. Those Mages would rather just mark the boy up and be done with it!”
A sealing tattoo. They would want to block the magic. Seal it away in his body where it couldn’t hurt anyone. Kefir had suffered severe frostbite as well as a broken ankle. Lucky for him, he was surrounded by divine conduits and was fine, but what if Shon lost control again? Who would the ice entomb? Master Veon-Zih? Innocent citizens he was supposed to protect? Shon’s nails dug furrows into his palms as he clenched his fists tighter. The ice crawled up the legs of his chair and crystalized on the backs of his hands.
The adults continued to talk around him, “The law is clear, Daunas. The magic either needs to be trained or sealed. There are no exceptions.” The law never made exceptions. It’s what kept everything running at top proficiency. Shon admired that… and understood it, as even now he couldn't control the sorcerous ice.
Shon tried to slow his breathing, relax his hands. The ice cracked over his fingers as he forced them out of their fists. It was responding to his emotions, his fear, and horror at what he'd done. What he was. If he could just pull it in, stifle the emotions feeding it, then the magic wouldn't be able to control him…
Ice continued to inch up the chair, and Selibra rubbed his hands together to warm them. They'd been pointedly and purposely ignoring the winter-like cold since bringing Shon to the office.
“Tattoos aren’t the only way to seal magic…” Nangran stated from the door. Daunas and Selibra stopped arguing, and Shon’s head shot up. He turned slowly to watch the Smith who combed absently at his beard, “Law says sorcerer magic needs to be trained or sealed, doesn’t say how.”
“I know the law Nangran,” Selibra still sounded defeated. “A council of Mages, including one of the rank Archmage, must determine if a Sorcerer is capable of controlling his or her power. If they determine the power is too great a risk to the kingdom, then said power will be made unable to manifest. Sealed.” the Major General recited, most likely for Shon’s benefit. Shon's heart pounded in his chest, and the fires that lit the room dimmed.
“What are you suggesting?” Daunas asked Nangran curiously. The smith only talked when necessary, using grunts and nods instead of words whenever possible. That was probably why Shon liked him so much. It also meant he wouldn’t have contradicted Selibra unless he had a reason.
“Know a guy. Used to make sealing items for the guild…” Nangran said with a shrug, as though Shon’s future didn’t hinge on his point, “Owes me a favor…”
“You’re not talking about that mad hermit who comes barging in here once or twice a year, are you?” Daunas asked, looking stunned.
Nangran nodded with a confirming hum. “Still Archmage in good standing…”
The Weaponmaster looked ecstatic, shouting, “Nangran, you’re a genius!” he slammed his hands down on the desk again, breath puffing out in thick clouds as his excitement grew. Nangran grunted.
Daunas turned back to the Major General, who actually looked intrigued. Shon’s heart tried to beat its way out of his chest. “This is it, Selibra! This Archmage can make the boy a sealing item. I’m sure the Temple will vouch for him. He’s our top Squire.” Shon was still too terrified to feel proud of the compliment and watched Major General Selibra with wide desperate eyes. Ice started forming on his hands again, looking like clawed talons.
“The Mages Guild hasn’t given out sealing stones for generations…” Selibra hummed, and Shon barely stopped the desperate whine before it could escape, his fingernails drawing blood on his palms as he balled them into fists again, breaking the ice claws. “but we can at least try.” Selibra finished, focusing on Shon, his brown eyes still looking sad, “Are you sure you want this, Shon? As a Paladin, you won’t be able to train with your elemental magic unti-”
“Yes, Sir!” Shon shouted, leaning forward in his seat and breaking the ice off its legs. He fell back a moment later, embarrassed by his outburst. More quietly, he said again, “Yes, Sir. I don’t want this magic. I want to be a Paladin.” more than anything in his entire life, he'd wanted to be a Paladin…
“Very well,” Major General Selibra stood, resting his fingertips on his desk. Speaking as if to himself, he muttered, “Perhaps this is a sign from Hengist.” looking up, he addressed Nangran, “Tomorrow you will take Squire Shon to this Archmage friend of yours. Gods willing, he will be able to seal the sorcerer magic without hindering his divine capabilities.” he failed to hide a shiver from the cold.
***
Her candles burned hot and bright, flickering wildly as She paced around Her little room. Something was happening in Her tower. There were far too many people with strangers' voices out Her window and beyond Her door.
Brom and Ran continued to visit, but they wouldn’t answer Her questions, wouldn’t take Her for samples, or to see Her treasures. The first made Her angry, the second gave Her energy, and the last scared Her enough to stop asking questions. What if they took Her books again? They hadn’t given Her a reason She couldn’t see Her treasures, so maybe they would soon… maybe tomorrow...
***
“Tomorrow,” Morndancer stated as Shaloon let herself into his room. The transfer preparations had taken months. MONTHS! They were Mages. No. Greater than Mages. They were Warlocks. And yet, everything still took far too long. They could instantly communicate with allies across the kingdom but still had to spend time making the proper arrangements. They could travel miles in a blink but still had to painstakingly pack every book and file, disassemble and disenchant the golems guarding the tower over days and even weeks. If it had been a true emergency -if they'd been found- they could've destroyed everything, vanishing all evidence of their presence and research. But the Master Archmages had forbidden it in this case.
“The western Talon is ready to receive us,” Shaloon confirmed, “What of the subjects? Archmage Yarna has no interest in animal husbandry..."
“The Firewyrm is all she is interested in. It is the only reason she agreed to take us.” Morndancer sat on his bed and stared at the pseudodragon perched on his desk, its leathery wings half furled and its tail twitching over the side of the desk, “I will handle the animal subjects tomorrow. Just make sure you are ready to open the portal out when I am done.” she could only open one portal a day, sometimes two but it would leave her incapacitated for at least a day after.
“Tomorrow then,” Shaloon confirmed, leaving him alone with his running mind and the little pretend dragon, that seemed to stare through his skin and into his soul.
***
Shon couldn’t sleep. Once again, his entire future hung on what would happen tomorrow. And just like the divine test and the road to Hamerfoss, there was nothing he could do to speed up the process. It was out of his hands. Out of his control. Just like the ice now clouding the window and the frost freezing the blankets to the mattress.
He tapped the blank page of his open journal with his pencil. The images running through his mind were the last he wanted to solidify on paper. He tried drawing something else… Kefir smiling warmly at him for the second thank you. Rerves leaning forward and shouting to him across the dinner table. The study group conversing in whispers instead of studying…
He wrote about it all between the drawings but everything that happened after pushed at his mind, the scenes forming in his vision. Shon drew Kefir again, lying on his back and tugging at the ice forming on his sword arm. Then a group scene with the Paladins falling around him, their faces focused, and hands glowing with spells to try and save him… Master Daunas’s scared eyes as he ordered Shon to ‘think warm thoughts...'
With two pages full of various sketches and commentary, Shon dropped his pencil and rested his head on his desk. Why? Was this why he was so cold to the touch? Sorcerers were rare; those with ice power were the rarest even amongst them. Should they have noticed something was wrong sooner? Would Hengist really accept someone like him? Chose a Sorcerer to be one of his extensions in Daanlin?
Shon closed his eyes, breathing slowly and trying not to cry. If they forced him to go to the Mages Guild, he would never be able to fight again. He was sure of it. All his hard work and dedication. All those years of disciplined practice, gone in one instance where he lost control. Where he almost killed a friend.
Everything he was, everything he would be, hinged on the following day. “Tomorrow…” Shon whispered into the dark, his candle finally flickering to die in the cold.
--- Table of Contents ---
Thanks for making it this far, you are the real MVP

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2023.06.03 19:18 CFUsOrFuckOff Why Ukraine is the turning point for humanity and what must be done

This is not a political position, but a thermodynamic one. The world is heading from a time of excess to a time of scarcity. With more people enjoying fewer comforts, humanity is faced with the direction it takes for the rest of our species' future on this planet and others: we can't fight each other for what's left or we can share with each other what we need.
This isn't - or has never before been - a serious question because this world has never felt universal hardship before. In the past, when any major scarcity was faced (with the exception of 536) there was always a neighboring ally to buffer the loss or an enemy to subjugate; until now, there has always been more. Climate change is a global pressure on a globalized economy. There are no external economies that are thriving to prop up the luxuries we've come to feel entitled to. When that luxury can no longer be provided, people are trained to blame each other and ask for the boss to complain about our level of service.
This is the attitude fueling the shift to the right "all this liberal 'science' bullshit has turned my country into a place i dont recognize. Time to get my country in order!", but like how the long term side effects of COVID will be blamed on the vaccine rather than the virus, humans are apparently hardwired to look for a person or institution that's responsible for their problems, because they live in a world that's manifestly run by humanity. Politicians don't help with this because they promise change that a large bureaucracy isn't capable of... every time they step in front of a mic. Politicians feed the sense that the world is divided into teams and the team that's running things is doing harm. They are the anti-vax evangelists of a world simply running out of good time as a result of spending all the good time since the end of WWII.
Humanity cannot fly. That shouldn't be arguable. It's a fundamental limit of our physiology that cannot be overcome without shedding everything about us that makes us human; brains are heavy. When we get on a plane, we are not 'flying', we are taking a bus full of people, strapping a rocket engine to it, and firing it in a ballistic trajectory toward our destination. For all the celebration of progress in the tech age, we still can't figure out how to move something forward without throwing something out the back. That's not just why planes are absurd but why they cannot continue to be considered a good invention. Think of how much fuel would need to be burned to rocket yourself across a lawn, let alone through the sky; it's an insane amount of fuel and an absurd justification for burning it, especially virtually all domestic travel can be accomplished by rail or bus... which also use the same principle of throwing out enough exhaust gasses out the back to displace the weight of the thing that's burning the fuel. When this thing is on the ground, it burns much less fuel than pushing it through the sky.
Humanity assumes novelty is benign. Im not sure if this is one of the hidden rules about capitalism that we all follow as a culture "have you seen the new x!? It's amazing and works way better than x-1!", or if we're evolutionarily programmed to assume new is good and the direction we should be heading in. In either case, it has allowed us to adopt planetary destruction as a necessary aspect of each of our lives. It isn't anything we do consciously, it is the background of our lives that feeds big industry and steals time from the future. It's our commute, our food, our total acceptance that running a furnace is fine despite getting all worked up about oil spills and fires when we see them uncontained. The maze we all run was designed to have as much distance as possible between you and the cheese at the end so you would spend half or more of your cheese burning calories to get from the start to the finish and repeat all over. It is why people feel the problem is too big for them: there is nothing one person can change in the part of the life they control that will redirect the planetary system away from collapse because it is the pattern of our lives that is the destructive part.
Since our shared pattern is so destructive, it is self limiting. We are feeling the effects of that now with COVID (forests being pushed toward ecological breakdown leads animals to look for new territory and new food, leading to conflict with species already there and malnutrition from food with an incomplete nutrient balance), extreme weather doing damage to vital infrastructure and shipping losses.
Which brings us back to Ukraine. The world needs a beacon. A Western country with the courage to model a sustainable lifestyle through active change. I assumed that would have been Canada but I was wrong. Instead, with Ukraine being forced to rebuild in a time where supplies have never been more expensive, and in a state where its people have gotten used to living without luxury, it can either be an incubator for redesigning human life to restore the environment rather than destroy it.
There is no stronger people to take on such a challenge and the world that has been paying for weapons to defend. If we can send explosives to break, we must send hands, tools, and materials to rebuild. If we rebuild the same way, the world will fall into war since the causal push of all existing conflict is space and resources or their control, and we will continue to pretend that individual human choices are to blame for war. We will continue to refuse to look deeper and will soon find ourselves in a position where taking up arms seems like the only solution left to us. If, on the other hand, the rest of us find the courage to look one step deeper and ask "why is the world falling to war? What is driving conflict?", we will see it is the same thing driving our thirst for more luxury and, hopefully, realize that the only survivable path to the future is one where we change our behavior to relieve the force that's pushing us in that direction.
When more is never enough, less is a horrifying concept. Without a model for how to happily live as a human in a self sufficient community, there will be no "green transition", there will only be more disease, more scarcity, and more conflict on the edge of that scarcity. The more each of us takes, the more we contribute to conflict around the world.
There is no way to make a car "green", just like there is no way to make a compostable battery. The problem isnt the means of conveyance, it is the distance we need to cover to survive. Whether or not we change our habits to adapt to this reality is inconsequential to its eventuality, it just seems absurd to ignore the reality of hardship until you're being strangled by it simply to "enjoy the time you have left".
If the war in Ukraine ends and the world moves in to turn it into the first net zero country, there is hope for a future for our species. If we act like everything was fine until a mad man decided to invade a sovereign country, war will spread like a fog descending on the world. Demands will be met by force as a result of people pushing for impossibly cheap access to resources. Slavery will return as the foundation of the global economy and, in all this horror, we will be hastening and worsening our own conditions.
Like a train whose tracks go over the grand canyon, humanity needs one last train stop to see what it looks like to live somewhere other than a train at constantly increasing speed. We need a model for a future that is too nebulous to explain: it must be seen and experienced, how much living can be done as humans on and with the land. If nothing else but to illustrate that a train going over a cliff was not a predetermined consequence of "human progress", and that a choice has been made to define that progress with the inventions of a few men, all of which run by stealing energy from the past and stability from the future. It would allow us to see the train from the outside and force us to question the value of a murder-suicide pact.
For the demonstration to be compelling, there can be no or very little carbon footprint for the country. Structures must be built from salvaged (cheap) material, focusing on isolated but functional communities.
We have already lost the battle to save most of what we recognize in our world but we don't need to continue to burn it all down. Since there is no more track for this paradigm, there is no consequence for trying something new and certain death and misery by doing the same. This message can be shared in every possible way, but without a demonstration of what it looks like on a cultural level, we will never have the discussion that leads to the choice to keep going or get off the death train.
We are not the creations or technology we obsess over, we are an ape descended species on a planet we're stuck with and have killed 80% of in 50 years. We cannot survive on a lifeless world because we are alive and life feeds on life to survive. I have a hard time getting people to relate to the rest of the living world as a branch of the same tree we belong to because of how separated we are from other life. The more life that's lost, the less we'll care about it being gone and the more committed we will be to our preoccupations to avoid having to face reality.
The cowardice ive encountered when it comes to facing reality has been incredibly disappointing and disturbing. We will pass laws in our country to prevent poaching and hunting in other countries where our emissions and lifestyle -guided by our laws- are pushing the same animals to total extinction. We will talk about this from a position of moral superiority, only, and will take no responsibility for the conditions our behavior has already created. There is no "border crisis", there are people being pushed out of their homes by new weather that has made those homes incompatible with survival. I've heard lots of Americans talking about moving north in response to climate shifts as if that is something completely different from what is happening on their southern border or in Europe. No one leaves their ancestral home to cause problems in another country, but if that country is responsible for the force that pushed them out, they should either stop pushing people out of their homes or open their borders. To refuse either is to accept that you live a life of evil and as the person that will one day deny you shelter to protect what they have.
These a new times with new stakes and new bad guys. The only good thing about being the bad guy is you can choose to stop, while your victims can only beg you to stop and, eventually, resist/insist on a different course. It is up to each and all of us how the future plays out. The party is over. No one gets to sit this out.

submitted by CFUsOrFuckOff to ClimaticConsequences [link] [comments]

2023.06.03 19:16 cesario_ Theorycrafting Saitama: killing (almost) any monster in a single punch

Hello 3d6! I’ve been working on this character theorycraft for a while now, and I’ve quite nearly accomplished my goal — only to fall barely short at the final 1%. I’m sharing it now in a 99-percent-complete state, for everyone to enjoy reading my mad scientist ravings, or to offer their own suggestions on how to wring out just a little bit more damage to finally have a character that can kill any creature in a single punch.
tl;dr: a theorycrafted level 20 Saitama character can deal 634 damage on average in a single punch, instantly killing 99% of all published monsters (27 monsters can survive).

The self-imposed rules

Must be RAW.
All printed magic items are allowed, and random properties may be chosen.
Average rolls will be used for ability checks, attacks, and damage rolls.
All the damage must be dealt in a single punch attack: damage that happens after the resolution of the attack does not count (poisons, damage on a later turn, etc.)
Any amount of preparation time for the single punch is allowed.
No friends — all the preparation must be done by the single character. No buff spells may be cast by other people.
Bonus points if everything can be explained within One-Punch Man’s canon lore.

Now, let’s get into it!

Race

Protector Aasimar. Saitama claims to be an ordinary man, but let’s be honest, to have such ludicrous power, he must be more than human. Aasimar are more or less human, but with a touch of the divine, which fits the bill perfectly. Mechanically, we’re choosing this for the Radiant Soul option: as an action once per long rest, they transform for 1 minute and once per turn can deal their level in radiant damage to one target of an attack. At level 20, this will add +20 radiant damage to the punch, by far the highest single-attack damage boost of any racial ability.

Stats

Saitama has incredible strength, speed, reflexes, and durability, which he attributes to an intense training regimen. How could he have gotten such formidable training? Well, perhaps he read the instructions in a magic book. The Manuals of Gainful Exercise, Quickness of Action, and Bodily Health are very rare magic items that describe “fitness exercises,” “coordination and balance exercises,” and “health and diet tips” with words that are charged with magic. Studying these manuals and practicing their guidelines for 48 hours increases a creature’s STR, DEX, and CON stats by 2, as well as increasing their maximum for that score — up to a cap of 30. Clearly, to have such godlike strength, dexterity, and constitution, Saitama’s intense training must have included reading as many Manuals as necessary to raise his STR, DEX, and CON stats each to a godlike 30. This results in Saitama having a +10 to STR attack and damage rolls, a +10 boost to DEX checks like stealth and initiative, and a ridiculous amount of hit points. In order to multiclass, Saitama will also need at least a 13 in INT, WIS, and CHA — which should be achievable.

Classes

Saitama starts by taking three levels in Armorer Artificer, which gives him a suit of Arcane Armor that expands to cover his entire body and can be used as a spellcasting focus for artificer spells. The text describes “metallurgical pursuits,” but nothing RAW forbids one from choosing a suit of yellow leather armor for Arcane Armor. At AC 11 + DEX, this gives Saitama an AC of 21 — which doesn’t really matter, since he can kill nearly anything in a single punch before it ever has a chance of attacking him. We choose the Guardian Armor Model for Saitama’s Arcane Armor, causing the red rubber gloves on his leather armor to be counted as Thunder Gauntlets: they count as simple melee weapons when not holding anything in them, and deal 1d8 thunder damage on a hit. Saitama also has the option to use his INT modifier instead of STR or DEX when attacking with the gauntlets, but let’s be honest, he’s going to stick with his godlike +10 STR modifier here. Saitama will infuse his gloves with the Enhanced Weapon artificer infusion, giving them a +1 to attack and damage rolls, and turning them into a magic item. From Armorer, Saitama also learns the spells Booming Blade and Absorb Elements. To complete Saitama’s armor, he also gains a white Cloak of Billowing (a common magic item that does not require attunement) and a pair of red rubber Boots of Elvenkind (an uncommon magic item that also does not require attunement, and gives advantage on Stealth checks to move silently).
Next, Saitama takes nine levels in warlock. He chooses the Hexblade patron and Pact of the Blade, and gains the Hexblade’s Curse, the Eldritch Smite invocation, and the Banishing Smite spell from the Hexblade expanded spell list. He will also transform his gloves into his pact weapon, and take the Improved Pact Weapon invocation, allowing him to use his gloves as a spellcasting focus for warlock spells. Unfortunately, because his gloves are already a magic weapon with a +1 to attack and damage rolls from the Enhanced Weapon artificer infusion, they do not gain an additional +1 to attack and damage rolls from Improved Pact Weapon. Hexblade’s Curse allows Saitama to curse a creature within 30 feet for 1 minute as a bonus action, and add his proficiency bonus to damage rolls against that target. Eldritch Smite deals 1d8 force damage plus another 1d8 for each level of warlock spell slot expended when hitting a creature with one’s pact weapon. At a maximum 5th level spell slot, this adds 6d8 force damage to his punch. Banishing Smite activates as a bonus action and consumes concentration for 1 minute to add an extra 5d10 force damage on the next hit with a weapon attack. Additionally, if the target then has 50 HP or less, it is banished to its home plane (or until the spell ends). At nine levels in Warlock, Saitama gets two 5th-level spell slots per short rest. This is just enough for one usage of Eldritch Smite and one casting of Banishing Smite. However, he will then have to rest before going out to fight villains again — perhaps a good reason for why he spends so much time relaxing at home playing video games and reading manga. Saitama also gets two ASIs at his fourth and eighth levels of warlock. At these levels, he will take the Martial Adept and Fey Touched feats. The Martial Adept feat gives him a d6 superiority die and two maneuvers, one of which will be Menacing Attack (the other does not matter). Menacing Attack adds the d6 to the damage of the attack and forces the target to make a WIS save or be frightened (and though our goal is to kill the target outright, if it somehow survives, Saitama’s DC will be a difficult-to-surmount 24: 8 + 6 [proficiency bonus] + 10 [STR mod]). From the Fey Touched feat, Saitama will learn the first-level divination spell Gift of Alacrity, which lasts 8 hours without concentration and adds 1d8 to his initiative rolls.
To kill creatures in a single punch, Saitama will need to train to Assassinate: taking four levels in Assassin Rogue. Assassinate gives Saitama advantage on attacks against creatures that have not yet taken a turn in combat, and automatic critical hits on creatures who are surprised. In order to surprise creatures, Saitama will need to succeed on a Stealth check contested by the target’s Perception: “Any character or monster that doesn't notice a threat is surprised at the start of the encounter.” Saitama rarely sneaks up on his targets, but usually allows them to monologue for a long time before annihilating them with a single punch. It is his unremarkable appearance that allows him to take his enemies by surprise — and perhaps that appearance is its own form of stealth. Just to make getting surprise mechanically possible, Saitama will take an Expertise in Stealth, to double his proficiency for a +12 to Stealth in addition to his +10 DEX modifier. Due to his red rubber Boots of Elvenkind, he will also get advantage on Stealth checks made to move silently. With a +22 to Stealth, on an average d20 roll of 13.825 (with advantage), a Stealth of 35.825 should allow him to defeat the passive perception of nearly every monster — even the Greatwyrms, which have a passive perception of only 32. Tiamat has a passive perception of 36, and as the monster with the highest passive perception, she is the only monster capable of successfully noticing Saitama’s threat (unless he gets a little lucky with the Stealth roll). If we really want to ensure that Saitama can go undetected, we could give him the Epic Boon of Undetectability for an additional +10 to Stealth checks and immunity to detection or targeting by divination magic. He will also need to beat his target on an initiative roll to be able to get an automatic critical hit — which is why he will take the Alert feat on his fourth level of rogue, giving him a +5 to initiative rolls in addition to the +10 from his DEX modifier. As the only bonus monsters get to initiative is from their DEX modifier (and the highest DEX modifier that any monster has is +9, for the Elder Tempest or Will-o’-Wisp), with a total +6 edge from the +5 from Alert and his +10 DEX modifier, as well as +1d8 from Gift of Alacrity, Saitama will beat even the fastest monsters’ initiative rolls 89% of the time (and a later item will increase this to 97%).
When Saitama uses a Serious Punch, it’s like sending the target on a Path to their Grave. Thus, Saitama will take two levels in Grave Cleric. As an action, Path to the Grave allows Saitama to choose “another creature’s life force for termination.” The next time he hits the chosen creature within 30 feet with an attack, the creature has vulnerability to all of the attack’s damage, causing the damage to be doubled (as long as the creature is not immune or resistant to any of the damage types).
Lastly, Saitama will take two levels in paladin, gaining Divine Smite and the Dueling fighting style. When hitting with a melee weapon attack, he can expend a spell slot to Divine Smite, dealing additional radiant damage to the target. At three levels of artificer, two levels of cleric, and two levels of paladin, Saitama is a fifth-level multiclassed caster (his three levels from artificer are halved and rounded up to two, cleric gives two levels, and two levels of paladin is halved to one, for a total of five). This gives him two 3rd-level spell slots per long rest — spending a 3rd level slot on a Divine Smite gives an extra 4d8 radiant damage (1d8 off of the maximum of 5d8 from spending a 4th-level spell). It also deals an extra 1d8 to undead or fiend targets. The Dueling fighting style gives +2 to damage rolls when wielding a melee weapon in one hand and no other weapons. The Thunder Gauntlets count as simple melee weapons when not holding anything in them, so Saitama will hold something in his right hand, leaving him wielding only one Thunder Gauntlet on his left hand when he delivers a Serious Punch. (In One-Punch Man canon, Saitama usually punches with his right hand. For a mechanical reason, our theorycrafted DND Saitama has to punch with his left. Maybe this is why DND Saitama is slightly weaker than canon Saitama, and isn’t able to kill every monster in a single hit.)
With three levels of artificer, nine levels of warlock, four levels of rogue, two levels of cleric, and two levels of paladin, Saitama is a level 20 character.

Feats

As mentioned above, Saitama will take Martial Adept and Fey Touched at his fourth and eighth warlock level, and Alert at his fourth level of rogue.

Additional items

When Saitama strikes someone, it occasionally appears as if he has grown to incredible size (https://tenor.com/view/one-punch-man-gif-23643267). To simulate this, DND Saitama will consume a Potion of Giant Size (legendary) and a Potion of Growth (rare), increasing to Huge for 24 hours and then again to Gargantuan for 1d4 hours. From the Potion of Giant Size, his weapons roll three times as many dice (thus increasing his Thunder Gauntlets to deal 3d8 thunder damage on hit). From the Potion of Growth, Saitama gets advantage on STR checks and saves, and deals 1d4 additional damage on weapon attacks.
Saitama can attune to three magic items. We will choose the Hand of Vecna (legendary), Sword of Kas (legendary), and a Ring of Spell Storing (rare).
To attune to the Hand of Vecna, Saitama had to lop off his left hand at the wrist and replace it with the Hand of Vecna. This withered hand is hidden within his red rubber glove, and (among other properties) allows him to deal an extra 2d8 cold damage when he makes a melee weapon attack with a weapon held in the hand. The Hand of Vecna also includes one minor and one major beneficial property, along with one minor detrimental property. For the major beneficial property, we will choose the property: “When you hit with a weapon attack while attuned to the artifact, the target takes an extra 1d6 damage of the weapon's type.” For the minor beneficial property, we will choose immunity to charm and fear effects. The minor detrimental property we will choose is: “Your appearance changes as the DM decides” — from his intense training regimen (which included chopping off his left hand and replacing it with the Hand of Vecna), Saitama unfortunately lost all of his hair — still a sore spot for him.
The Sword of Kas grants several abilities, but Saitama only attacks with punches, so it will remain in its scabbard, somewhere on his person. While it is on his person, it adds an additional d10 to Saitama’s initiative (raising his probability of having a higher initiative than even a monster with +9 DEX to 97%). The Sword of Kas also includes one minor and one major beneficial property, as well as one minor and one major detrimental property. We will choose the same major beneficial property as the Hand of Vecna, for an extra 1d6 damage when hitting with a weapon attack (typically effects of the same type do not stack. However, since these are generic properties of two artifacts with different names, the properties should stack under RAW). The minor beneficial property can be any (some thematic options include immunity to disease or +1 AC), and the minor detrimental property can be: “The first time you touch a gem or piece of jewelry while attuned to this artifact, the value of the gem or jewelry is reduced by half.” Perhaps this explains why Saitama is poor. The major detrimental property can be taking 8d10 psychic damage when attuning to the Sword of Kas: Saitama mentions that his training was so intense that he thought he might die — perhaps this damage was why it felt so intense. (Note: with eighteen levels in classes with d8 hit dice and two levels of paladin for d10 hit dice, Saitama’s average hit points is 92, not counting the incredible 200 additional HP from his +10 CON modifier. Even at a maximum roll of 80 psychic damage from attuning to Sword of Kas, he wouldn’t actually die.) Interestingly, the Sword of Kas also causes its bearer to gradually become obsessed with destroying anyone corrupted by the Hand of Vecna — this might cause Saitama to become fairly conflicted.
Lastly, the Ring of Spell-Storing. Up to five levels of spells can be stored within, and can be cast while touching the ring. Saitama can spend one of his fifth-level Pact Magic slots to cast Absorb Elements (learned from his levels in artificer) into the ring, before resting to regain his Pact Magic slot. Absorb Elements can be cast as a reaction to elemental damage, grants resistance to the triggering damage, and adds an extra 1d6 of that damage type per spell level when the next time the caster hits with a melee attack on their next turn. Cast at a fifth level, this adds 5d6 elemental damage to Saitama’s punch. To voluntarily trigger the Absorb Elements, we will have Saitama use his free object interaction to stick a finger into a vial of acid held in his right hand (which also makes the Thunder Gauntlet in his right hand no longer count as a melee weapon since it's holding something, thus enabling him to use the Dueling fighting style with his left). The acid will burn Saitama, allowing him to cast Absorb Elements in reaction, getting resistance to the acid damage and charging up 5d6 acid damage to be released on his next melee attack this turn.

Preparation to punch

In order to maximize damage in a single attack, Saitama needs to do some preparation. At some point, he will spend one of his fifth-level Pact Magic slots to cast Absorb Elements into the Ring of Spell Storing, before resting to regain his Pact Magic slot.
On the day of, he must also cast Gift of Alacrity to maximize his initiative rolls (this lasts 8 hours), and spend an action drinking the Potion of Giant Size (which lasts 24 hours). One hour before the fight, he must drink the Potion of Growth (which lasts a minimum of 1 hour). He must also open the vial of acid and hold it ready in his right hand.
A minute before punching his target, he must spend an action to activate his Radiant Soul Aasimar transformation, and spend an action and a bonus action cursing his target with the Hexblade’s Curse and Path to the Grave.
Finally, on the turn he punches, he spends his free object interaction to touch the acid in the vial until it causes damage, then casts Absorb Elements as a reaction from his Ring of Spell Storing. He spends his bonus action casting Banishing Smite, and then his action casting the cantrip Booming Blade. (He has cast three spells in one turn, but the only limitation on casting multiple spells per turn is that if he casts a spell as a bonus action, he may only cast a cantrip — like Booming Blade — with his action.)

The punch

Booming Blade requires a material component: a melee weapon worth at least 1 sp. Normally, using his arcane armor as a spellcasting focus would allow him to ignore material components, but this material component cannot be ignored because it has a cost. The Thunder Gauntlets from a suit of arcane armor have no assigned cost, but the basic leather armor costs 10 gp, so it’s a safe assumption that a magically-enhanced +1 Thunder Gauntlet would cost more than 1 sp. Upon casting the spell, Saitama makes a melee attack against a creature within 5 feet. At level 20, the cantrip adds an extra 3d8 thunder damage to the initial attack, and an additional 4d8 if the target moves on its next turn — but the latter damage will not count for this purpose because our goal is to annihilate the target with the first hit.
Assuming that his stealth and initiative checks have allowed Saitama to surprise his target and go first in the initiative order, he has advantage on his attack from Assassinate and gets +17 to the roll: +6 from his proficiency, +10 from his STR modifier, and +1 from the Enhanced Weapon infusion. The monsters with the highest AC are Tiamat and the Tarrasque, with an AC of 25 — with advantage and a +17 to hit, Saitama has an 88% chance of hitting, and any hit is an automatic critical hit from Assassinate. If a guaranteed hit is desired, we could give Saitama an Epic Boon of Combat Prowess, choosing to hit on a melee weapon attack once per short rest. At that point, the attack roll doesn’t even matter.

Damage

The 1d8 thunder damage from his Thunder Gauntlets is tripled to 3d8 by the Potion of Giant Size. The Gauntlets deal an extra 1d4 thunder damage from the Potion of Growth, an extra 2d6 thunder damage from the major beneficial properties of the Hand of Vecna and the Sword of Kas, and an extra 1d6 thunder damage from the Menacing Attack maneuver. The attack deals an extra 2d8 cold damage because it was made with a weapon wielded by the Hand of Vecna. We add an additional 6d8 force damage from Eldritch Smite, 5d10 force damage from Banishing Smite, 4d8 radiant damage from Divine Smite, 5d6 acid damage from Absorb Elements, and 3d8 thunder damage from Booming Blade.
Let’s total this up: 6d8+1d4+3d6 thunder + 2d8 cold + 6d8+5d10 force + 4d8 radiant + 5d6 acid damage
All these dice are doubled on the critical hit from Assassinate: 12d8+2d4+6d6 thunder + 4d8 cold + 12d8+10d10 force + 8d8 radiant + 10d6 acid damage
Now, counting the flat damage: 10 thunder damage from Saitama’s STR modifier on the Thunder Gauntlets, +1 thunder damage from the Enhanced Weapon infusion, +6 thunder damage from Hexblade’s Curse, and +2 thunder damage from the Dueling fighting style, for a total of +19 thunder damage. We also add 20 radiant damage from the Radiant Soul transformation.
Another preliminary total: 12d8+2d4+6d6+19 thunder + 4d8 cold + 12d8+10d10 force + 8d8+20 radiant + 10d6 acid damage
All the damage is doubled by the vulnerability inflicted by Path to the Grave: 24d8+4d4+12d6+38 thunder + 8d8 cold + 24d8+20d10 force + 16d8+40 radiant + 20d6 acid damage
This averages to 198 thunder + 36 cold + 218 force + 112 radiant + 70 acid damage, for a total of 634 damage on average in a single punch.
Anything that survives this formidable blow must then have more than 50 hit points remaining, or else it is banished to its home plane without a save by Banishing Smite (thus, Saitama's punch can effectively defeat creatures with up to 684 HP).
After two short rests, Saitama could theoretically do a Serious Punch again on the same day — minus the +40 radiant damage from Radiant Soul (doubled by Path to the Grave), the only ability used that requires a long rest to recharge. After a second Serious Punch, though, he’ll run out of third-level spell slots for the Divine Smite.

The targets (who survives?)

With the most hit points out of any monster in DND 5e, the Tarrasque has 676 HP, damage immunities to fire, poison, and bludgeoning/piercing/slashing damage from nonmagical attacks, three legendary resistances per day, advantage on saves against spells, can nullify or reflect ranged attack spells, and can terrify creatures within 120 feet with its Frightful Presence. None of this protects it from a single punch from our Caped Baldy. On 62% of possible damage rolls, that Tarrasque is getting sent back to its plane of origin, gibbering with fear: with a WIS modifier of +0, it has no chance of succeeding the DC 24 WIS save against Saitama’s Menacing Attack (of course, Tarrasques are immune to the frightened condition, but let’s ignore that because it’s funny).
However, this doesn’t quite count as killing the tarrasque in a single punch, since it’s banished but still alive (and returns after one minute if it’s not originally from another plane). Additionally, a several other monsters could definitely survive the punch — chief among them, Tiamat: Outside of being immune to acid and cold damage (reducing the damage by 106 points and dropping the remaining 528 total damage from the punch well below her total HP of 615), Tiamat is also immune to spells of level 6 or lower: thus completely nullifying the effects of both Booming Blade and Banishing Smite. However, as a fiend, Divine Smite does deal an extra d8 radiant damage against her. Still, eliminating Booming Blade and Banishing Smite drops the single punch damage to 382 on average, leaving Tiamat with 233 HP: more than a third of her health. Instead casting Banishing Smite and Booming Blade, Saitama could use his action to punch twice using the Thirsting Blade eldritch invocation, spending both his 5th-level Pact Magic spell slots on Eldritch Smites and both 3rd-level slots on Divine Smites. If Saitama managed to sneak up on Tiamat to surprise her and get the automatic critical hits from Assassinate, he would deal 3d8+1d4+3d6 thunder + 6d8 force + 5d8 radiant damage on each attack, doubled from the critical hit to 6d8+2d4+6d6 thunder + 12d8 force + 10d8 radiant damage, and a total of +19 thunder on both attacks and +20 radiant on the first. The first attack damage would be doubled from Path to the Grave, but the second would not. The first attack would deal 12d8+4d4+12d6+38 thunder + 24d8 force + 20d8+40 radiant damage, and the second 6d8+2d4+6d6+19 thunder + 12d8 force + 10d8 radiant; for a total damage of 553 on average, still 62 points short of Tiamat’s 615 total HP.
Other creatures that would survive:

Sapphire Greatwyrms and Velomachus Lorehold — with immunities to thunder damage and HP totals of 507 and 487 respectively, they survive the 436 total non-thunder damage from Saitama’s Serious Punch. With 51 HP remaining on average, Velomachus also has a 53% chance of having enough HP to escape getting banished.
Amethyst Greatwyrms and Tanazir Quandrix — with immunities to force damage and HP totals of 507 and 444 respectively, they survive the 416 total non-force damage from the Serious Punch. Tanazir is almost definitely getting banished, though.
The Aspect of Tiamat and Aspect of Bahamut are immune to both fire and cold damage, reducing the Serious Punch to 528 damage — not enough to eliminate their 574 and 585 hit points, respectively. However, both Aspects might still fall victim to the Banishing Smite: 56% of damage rolls will deal enough damage to banish the Aspect of Tiamat, and 37% of rolls for the Aspect of Bahamut. Interestingly, banishing these monsters with the Banishing Smite might be better than reducing them to 0 HP, because dropping them to 0 would trigger their Chromatic Wrath / Platinum Brilliance traits, resetting their HP to 500, recharging their breath weapons and legendary resistances, and unlocking their Mythic Actions.
Copper Greatwyrms are immune to acid damage, reducing the Serious Punch to 564 damage on average — allowing them to barely survive with 1 hit point left (out of their HP total of 565). They will survive on 52% of damage rolls, and almost certainly get banished if they do. However, on the 48% of damage rolls that succeed in reducing them to 0 HP, they will actually not get banished: instead, their Metallic Awakening will immediately trigger and will reset their HP to 450.
Silver Greatwyrms have 565 HP and immunity to cold damage, but even without cold damage, the Serious Punch still deals 598 damage on average: enough to reduce them to 0 HP on 91% of damage rolls. Interestingly, this gives Silver Greatwyrms higher odds of surviving than Copper Greatwyrms, because they are far more likely to trigger the Metallic Awakening and reset their HP to 450 to escape banishment — rather than Copper Greatwyrms, which have better-than-even odds of surviving the initial punch but then getting banished for their trouble.
The other 11 types of Greatwyrm not yet mentioned will also survive thanks the same reason as the Silver Greatwyrm: they can't survive the initial punch, but being reduced to 0 HP will trigger their Metallic/Chromatic/Gem Awakening traits to reset their HP to 400 or more, ironically allowing them to evade being banished. Of the 15 types of Greatwyrm, only Copper Greatwyrms have moderate odds of getting banished in a single strike — the others will either survive the first hit entirely, or get reduced to 0 hit points and trigger their Awakening to avoid getting banished.
Zariel from Mordenkainen’s Tome of Foes and Archduke Zariel of Avernus from Descent into Avernus each have resistance to radiant damage, resistance or immunity to cold damage (respectively), and 580 hit points. However, they are fiends, causing the Divine Smite to add an additional 9 radiant damage on average (the 1d8 extra Divine Smite damage to fiends is doubled twice from the critical hit and Path to the Grave, but halved from Zariel’s resistance to radiant damage). Accounting for the resistance to radiant damage and the bonus Divine Smite damage to fiends, the punch deals 587 total damage. Then, subtracting 18 damage for cold resistance or 36 damage for cold immunity, Zariel survives with 11 HP and Archduke Zariel with 29 HP — both still very likely getting banished back to Avernus.
No creature has resistance to thunder and more than 535 hit points to survive the punch, resistance to force damage and more than 525 hit points, or resistance to acid damage and more than 599 hit points. Only 10 creatures other than Zariel have resistances to thunder, cold, force, radiant, or acid damage and more than 400 HP: of those, Sul Khatesh, Rak Tulkhesh, Orcus, and the Demogorgon’s cold resistances reduce the damage by 18, but, as fiends, they take an additional 18 radiant damage from Divine Smite — and with 475, 478, 405, and 406/464 HP respectively (depending on the source book), they get easily annihilated by the Serious Punch. Tromokratis is resistant to both thunder and cold damage, reducing the Serious Punch by 117 damage, but with 409 HP, the Serious Punch still deals over 100 more points of damage than necessary to kill it. The Marut and the Ancient Amethyst Dragon are also only resistant to one of the damage types, which does not reduce the damage enough for them to survive.
Many creatures have the Regeneration trait that allow them to survive and regain a certain amount of HP at the start of their turn even if they start their turn with 0 HP. However, taking radiant damage disables this trait for fiends, undead, and aberrations, and acid damage disables it for trolls and giants. Cold damage disables it for Tlexolotl and Vegepygmy, thunder damage for the Glasswork Golem, and spell damage for Wereravens. Four monsters have Regeneration traits that still work to bring them back from 0 HP after being hit by Saitama's punch: Loup Garou regenerate if not dealt damage with a silver weapon; the Jabberwock regenerates if not dealt slashing damage; and the Regenerating Black Pudding and Living Doll regenerate if not dealt fire damage (for the Wood Woad, banishment likely counts as no longer being “in contact with the ground” and therefore its Regeneration trait fails). None of these monsters have more than 300 HP, so the 634 damage from Saitama's Punch may be enough to destroy them by dealing more than double their max HP in a single instance of damage — however, Jeremy Crawford rules that massive damage is not enough to kill a monster with regeneration (https://youtu.be/1frsmP\_AzV0?t=2663).
Some undead have an Undead Fortitude trait that allows them to drop to 1 HP instead of 0 on a save; however, these traits are disabled by both the fact that the Serious Punch deals radiant damage, is a critical hit (from Assassinate), and that they would have to succeed on a CON save with a DC of 5+the damage taken: DC 657 (when taking account the extra 18 radiant damage Divine Smite deals to undead).
Vampires, Liches, and other monsters with the Rejuvenation trait may also be utterly destroyed by the punch, but survive by regenerating or gaining a new body later. However, we will still count them as having been killed by the punch, even if they didn’t fully die. Even if they return to bother Saitama, he can just destroy them again in a single punch.
There may be other monsters with features that allow them to escape a single attack — if there are, they don't immediately come to mind.

Thus, our final list of 27 survivors of Saitama’s punch:

Nullifies the punch (1): Tiamat
Avoids banishment with 51-100 HP (3): Sapphire Greatwyrm, Amethyst Greatwyrm, Aspect of Bahamut
Gets reduced to 0 but avoids banishment by resetting their HP through the Awakening trait (12): Silver Greatwyrm and 11 other types of Greatwyrm
50/50 odds of being banished (3): Velomachus Lorehold, Aspect of Tiamat, Copper Greatwyrm
Likely banished, but still alive (4): Tarrasque, Tanazir Quandrix, Zariel and Archduke Zariel
Reduced to 0 HP and banished, but regenerates (4): Loup Garou, Jabberwock, Regenerating Black Pudding, Living Doll

Saitama can kill all remaining 2,800+ monsters ever printed in a single punch.

Thank you for reading!

If you've gotten this far, thanks for sticking with me! If you have any ideas on how to squeeze out the last bits of damage to allow Saitama to one-hit kill any of the remaining 27 monsters, please comment to let me know!

submitted by cesario_ to 3d6 [link] [comments]

2023.06.03 19:00 Accurate_Iron6553 My first real hit of anxiety since I got my license

I’ve had my license for 3 weeks and so far it’s been okay. I’m still scared of highways and have avoided them except for one time when I drove with a friend who basically told me exactly what to do. I’ve felt fine driving to and from work and going grocery shopping etc. but I have this thought in the back of my head all the time that I’m gonna cause an accident or that I can’t drive in certain areas because I’m not sure when a highway will come. I keep thinking that it will pass but I’m not sure and right now it feels like everything about me getting a car was a total mistake.
This week I first ended up pushing the brake instead of the gas with a car behind me getting (understandably) pissed. And then on Wednesday I accidentally went 20km above the speed limit passing a bus. And after that i got so anxious I spend the last two days over analyzing everything.
Today I decided to go for a drive around my area and to do grocery shopping. I took my friend who doesn’t have a license so she could do her shopping as well. Ended up having to drive around the parking lot twice because there were too many cars parking and I can’t do it without taking it really slowly and go back and forward (forward park into a square, I wouldnt even dare to try backing into a spot)
When we got to dropping her of at her apartment she asked me to park (side of the road) to help her with her bags. I failed. I couldn’t get my car in correctly and I ended up halfway out on the street with cars coming and I panicked and just said I can’t do it.
Then when I got home I could barely park there either (even though I’ve done it several times before, forward into square) and I just feel like such a failure and don’t understand how I even passed the test to get my license
Basically I need to learn to park, stop being afraid of highways and try to drive in a tunnel to feel like I haven’t wasted my money in this car and learning how to drive.
Don’t even know why I’m posting, guess I just needed to get it off my chest 😞

submitted by Accurate_Iron6553 to drivinganxiety [link] [comments]

2023.06.03 18:59 meshreplacer Who remembers Pentagonlight. Surefire sued to oblivion.

They had a bunch of interesting lights even one charged by inductance coming out. Found my LM1 in a box of old stored out in garage. It still turned thanks to an AA battery good till 2036. The tailcap had a red filter with a gasket as well when removed you had a small compass built in on the bottom for landnav.
Any LM1 owners?

submitted by meshreplacer to flashlight [link] [comments]

2023.06.03 18:58 Frank_Leroux Molossus, Chapter Sixteen

First Chapter
Chapter Fifteen
“Thank you, Ms. President, and Mr. Secretary-General. It’s my privilege to come and speak to everyone present during such a momentous time in human history. One which, I hope, will lead to a brighter future for us all…”
US President Correa’s boilerplate beginning flowed out as she scanned the room. Behind her rostrum sat a larger dais tiled with green marble, behind which sat the UN President, Secretary-General, and Under-Secretary-General. Two huge screens flanked the dais, and those screens now showed Correa’s face as she continued.
“…and we are committed to our country’s pledge to finding a peaceful and just way for Coalition technology to be incorporated worldwide, and to not attempt any reverse-engineering of our own. Make no mistake; we do not do this out of any sense of altruism or fairness, as pleasant as that may sound. We will hold this pledge sacred for the simple reason that, if the United States were to attempt such efforts the rest of the world would, without a doubt, find out. That, of course, would lead to a great instability.”
‘Great instability’ was diplomatic-speak for ‘the rest of the world then gangs up on the USA and then everything goes to hell’.
“I know there has already been a great deal of debate in this august hall as to the best way to proceed forward, in a fair and impartial manner. We believe that we have found what one might call a ‘trial run’ which will allow us to work out such matters.”
The general murmuring from the many semi-circular rows of desks in front of her increased.
“To begin with, during the first weeks after first contact we wanted to make sure our guests from the Coalition would not starve to death. Much like humanity’s own ships during the Age of Sail, Coalition exploration vessels store enough provisions for years…but such provisions never last. They have very advanced recycling, but mostly for water and even that is only a stop-gap measure. It is unknown even at this time as to how long it will take to repair the Exultant Finger of Rithro, and we did not want to risk the crew running out of food.
“Therefore, we undertook an emergency effort to have their ship’s medic examine various Earth foods to determine their compatibility with our guests’ varied biochemistries. I am pleased to report that there are quite a few Earth foodstuffs which are indeed compatible, although there are some specific items which act as allergens amongst some of the Coalition species. During these efforts, we did learn a bit about how their alien biochemistries work…information which has been duly published and is now openly available. We also began to get glimpses of something wonderful, and asked the Coalition crew for more details. They supplied us with some general ideas of what their medical technology can accomplish; I must emphasize that we do not possess any knowledge of how they can perform such miracles.”
Now the murmuring got quite a bit higher, but not quite to the point where they’d have to call for order.
“Yes, I use the word ‘miracles’ advisedly. For example, take Captain Sadaf. You have all seen her, and how she moves like a person in the prime of their life. Now. What if I told you that she is a little over four hundred years old?”
The murmuring died down into a shocked silence.
“Her species, the auhn, is no more long-lived than we are…but they are able to regenerate and remove the effects of aging. I hope the esteemed ambassadors can see what I am driving at. I propose that we set up a research institute, international in scope, to be placed at a neutral location which is still to be determined. The purpose of that institute will be to study and adapt Coalition medical technology for use in humans.”
Now the murmuring started again; she hoped they were actually listening instead of hatching side-deals with each other.
“You all have families and friends. I’m sure you have at least one family member, one good friend, who died of some horrible and unnecessary affliction. Think of what this means to the world, to us. It is also an excellent way to determine the inevitable issues and frictions which will arise from such a concerted international effort, and that, in turn, will inform our efforts in mutual reverse-engineering of other Coalition technology.
“I know this is, in many ways, a frightening time. Change can be frightening. But I am convinced that you will all know the right way forward, and that you will all see the need for us to unite in this matter, even if others may not be so clear-cut. I thank you for the opportunity to speak.”
As she stepped away from the rostrum, the UN President cleared his throat.
“We will now begin the debate on Madame President Correa’s proposal. Paper copies, with specifics of the proposal, are now being distributed to you all. We’ll now begin the debate period…yes, the gentleman from Portugal…?”
__________
Correa’s Chief of Staff was a shorter, tubby man with an olive complexion by the name of Pablo Rosas. He and Correa sat in a White House conference room, staring at a big screen which now showed the results of the UN vote. “Well, I suppose that went about as well as we could expect,” said Rosas.
“Yep. I was surprised they even agreed with our asking them to kick in some money.”
Rosas chuckled. “Keep in mind that all of this new medical tech will be available for anyone patent-free. Should be air-tight legally, since nobody here on Earth invented it; we’re merely adapting it. I think that was the sweetener we needed to get it passed.”
The president gave a brief nod, then tapped a few keys on the controls in front of her. The screen now showed a world map. “Now we just have to figure out where to put the damn thing without everyone getting butt-mad about it.”
“Hmm.” Rosas laced his fingers over his substantial gut as he regarded the map. “Someplace not ‘the usual’, then.”
Correa growled in frustration. “I keep thinking Switzerland, but I know there’s gonna be a lot of shit flung about that it’s too European-centric. Taiwan would be great; they’ve got both a good tech base and excellent transport infrastructure.”
“But way too controversial, for obvious reasons,” replied Rosas. “Japan?”
“China will, again, kick up a fuss. Huh. New Zealand?”
“That might work. They tend to be more neutral…but then again some might say they’re in too close with Australia, and that this whole effort is too Western-centric.” His eyes flicked back to north on the map. He was about to move his gaze elsewhere, but then he paused. “What about Iceland?”
“Iceland?” Correa almost scoffed, then looked more thoughtfully at the map. “Okay, they’re a NATO member which is a minus. But they tend to remain mostly neutral, which is a plus. Decent transportation infrastructure…don’t we have a naval air base there?”
“I think so, let me check…” Rosas tapped at his phone. “Hey, Jack? What can you tell me about any US naval air bases in Iceland? Just the highlights.” After a couple of minutes, he responded with a curt, “Okay, that’s enough, thanks.”
He put his phone away. “We kinda-sorta have one, at a place called Keflavik. The base there used to be a lot bigger during the Cold War. Then we shut it down after the Soviets were no longer a going concern. Iceland uses it now, and they allow us to fly submarine-search aircraft out of there, but a few years ago they nixed the DOD’s request to rebuild it into a more permanent base.”
“That does work in their favor. It makes for better optics if they’re known for keeping NATO at arm’s length.”
Rosas sat up. “Think the UN will go for it?”
“We can only try. I’ll have our ambassador in Reykjavik make some discreet inquiries, let’s see if they’d be okay with our proposing them as a candidate.”
The Chief of Staff smiled. “If it goes through, this institute will be pumping well north of a billion dollars per year into their economy. That should make it more than ‘okay’.
__________
Agent Cécile Savoie sat in a secure-location breakroom, silently grumbling as she held an as-yet un-drunk mug of coffee in her hands. As the agent-in-charge of the security detail during the Camp David incident, she’d been put on administrative leave, right alongside every other agent who’d been there. But it wasn’t like she had much down time; the inquiry board into that incident now summoned her damn near every other day for yet another round of tedious questioning.
“Hey,” said Hanson as he strolled in, looking just as sour as she felt.
She looked up in surprise. “Hey yourself. I thought you were assigned to the alien detail.”
“I was,” he said as he seated himself across the circular table from her. “Guess being in Alabama when the shitshow went down wasn’t far enough away to be completely out of suspicion. I just finished running my own gauntlet. But the rumor is, I’m getting it easy compared to everyone who was at Camp David, including the special forces people. Especially you.”
“Yeah, it’s pretty much a colonoscopy every day,” she muttered. “Going over the timeline, where I was at which times, who I had direct line of sight on, who I was in radio contact with.” She finally sipped her coffee.
Hanson’s sour expression deepened. “Do you really think it was one of us?”
She sighed. “It has to be. My gut tells me that there’s more than one mole and I told the inquiry board as much. The fuckers who got in knew too much about our patrol patterns, where everyone was, when they’d have a clear shot at an infil. That means someone with access to our methods and comms, and as to the latter we don’t use CB radios.”
The other agent leaned back. “Fuck. I wish I knew why any of us would do that. We’re supposed to be quiet professionals, not frothing radicals.”
Savoie turned the mug in her hands. “Not to tell tales out of school but, through the whisper network, they’ve been leaning hard on the captured dudes from the attack. Apparently one of their main ‘objections’,” and here she made some one-handed air quotes, “is that they think the whole Breaker thing is a ruse. It’s all smoke and mirrors, so that we’ll beg the Coalition to come and save us. And then…well, it gets vague after that but I guess they claim that at best we’ll get turned into the galactic equivalent of a Native American reservation. Worst case, we all get harvested for our precious bodily fluids.”
Hanson stared at her for a moment in disbelief. “That is, if you will forgive the uncouth term, utterly retarded. For chrissake, the Hubble got some beautiful shots of their ship once they’d spun that shield around to reveal it to us. I mean, I’m no spacecraft expert but even I could tell it had gotten the shit pounded out of it.”
She responded with a shrug. “Hey, Flat Earthers are still a thing.”
“Flat Earthers don’t stage FUCKING mortar attacks in our nation’s capital,” snapped Hanson. Then he subsided and spoke more softly. “Sorry, I shouldn’t be so on edge. This whole thing just pisses me off.”
“Join the club,” said Savoie as she sipped more coffee. “I just don’t get it, though.”
Hanson made a gentle ‘continue’ wave of his hand.
She leaned forward. “Okay. Our comrades in the CIA managed to identify the four who made it into the compound. They were all mercenaries, each with at least ten or fifteen years of experience in kicking ass around some of the worst hot spots in the world. Syria, Burma, bunch of places in Africa. One of ‘em even turned out to be ex-Wagner group.”
“Okay?” It was a leading single-word question, but not an unkind one.
“So why was the rest of the attack made up of nothing but a bunch of goddamn shit-kickers? And that includes the aborted attempt in Decatur. I’ve seen the files of those we rounded up in the Camp David attack. They were all low-life idiots just banging around, maybe they might have once held a gun in their lives. Hell, from what I’ve heard, the shootings that triggered the alarm at Camp David were an accident; those intruders were supposed to sneak around that patrol, not kill them. They all had the same top-of-the-line kit, so we know whoever is behind this has deep pockets. Why not hire an entire bunch of competent people instead of doing it onesy-twoseys?”
“It is a puzzle.” Hanson got up and set a styrofoam cup of water into the nearby microwave. As the cup turned within its electromagnetic prison, he leaned against the nearby counter and pondered her question. “Maybe the team in the woods was intended just as a distraction?”
“That’s what I thought at first, but then I reconsidered. I mean, what if the four who went in failed? You’d still need a proper backup plan. Same thing with the Decatur bunch. By the way, did they ever catch them?”
Hanson let out a dark chuckle. “Decatur PD found a pile of vests and rifles, hastily wiped down. They were able to pull a few partial prints off of ‘em. My guess is they’ve fled to the proverbial four winds, hoping to lay low for the rest of their lives. We’ll nab ‘em eventually.”
The microwave dinged and he retrieved his hot water, then pulled a tea bag out of his jacket pocket as he re-seated himself.
Savoie smiled. “I never figured you for a tea guy.”
He unwrapped the bag and with a bit of ceremony dunked it into his cup. “Well, I used to be a coffee guy, but my gut doesn’t agree with the acidity.”
“We do have tea here, you know.” She pointed to the storage bins behind him.
“Yeah, but it’s cheap-ass stuff. The brand I like is expensive, but worth it…” Hanson’s eyes widened as he trailed off.
She raised an eyebrow. “Hanson? Do you smell burnt toast?”
“They couldn’t afford it,” he said in a near-whisper.
Savoie was about to tell him to stop being overly dramatic, then she realized he might be on to something and that she didn’t dare distract him. “Keep talking.”
He leaned forward, his forearms on the table. “Okay. Imagine you’re a hard-bitten mercenary. You’ve been in the literal shit, in every nasty conflict anyone cares to name. Somehow, someone finds you and comes to you. They say ‘hey, these aliens are bad news, do you want to kill them?’ Even if you, as the hypothetical mercenary, are down with the cause…”
“From what the intruders were yelling, they were,” said Savoie.
“Yeah but even then, our mystery financier is asking you to infil and exfil out of one of the most heavily guarded pieces of real estate on the planet. Oh, and kill a bunch of special-forces-maybe and aliens-definitely in between. What do you do then?”
She replied with a grim smile. “If I’m that mercenary, then I ask for a metric fuck-ton of money. And there were four of them, they would have all done the same. Hell, they must have been doing collective bargaining.”
Hanson dunked his tea bag as he thought it through. “Okay, so our mystery mastermind has a lot of money, but not billions on hand to hire a literal army of hard cases. Huh. So those other dipshits might indeed have been a distraction.”
“Maybe. They must have also spent quite a bit on the mortar attack. That wasn’t made by some hobbyist in their bedroom, they knew what they were doing. Given that nobody saw them set up the launcher or leave, they were more pro.” Savoie hoped that the FBI’s efforts to track the various mortar components turned up something soon. Thus far, those efforts were bogged down; as it turned out, quite a few companies had ordered the identified components, and tracking the subsequent second-hand purchases was time-consuming.
“And those mortar-making pros would be more expensive.” Hanson sipped a bit of tea. “Did they ever get anything off of the launcher itself?”
“Sadly, no. Turns out the whole damned thing was homemade, constructed out of tubing and other off-the-shelf components. It was also wiped down thoroughly, no prints. Like I said, pros.”
“But limited in resources,” said Hanson. “Which explains one of the things that’s bugged me. Namely, that our OPFOR didn’t use some proper artillery. If they have a couple of moles in the Secret Service, then it should be easy to recruit and pay some military dudes to slip ‘em some gear and alter the logs. They could stow a howitzer inside a semi-tractor-trailer. You could park that thing anywhere up to 25 miles away. Use a single 155mm Excalibur GPS-guided munition, boom. That would have pretty much obliterated the stage and everyone on it. Then you just re-stow the howitzer and toodle off all innocent-like, right when everyone is freaking the hell out.”
“So they couldn’t afford that type of arty strike,” she said. “Or they simply didn’t have the contacts to pull that off. Hmm. I wonder if our moles are getting paid at all?”
Hanson resumed his thousand-yard stare. “The mortar attack must have been planned first. The other two attacks feel much more like rush jobs.”
“Eh? Oh, I get it. Sadaf’s speech was known well in advance. It was going to be one of her first big public appearances since the initial presidential speech. They were broadcasting it online to the world. Having her get turned into chunky red salsa, in real time, would be one helluva statement. So that’s what they focused on.” She drank a bit more coffee, and now it was time for her eyes to widen. “Our mole or moles didn’t arrive at Camp David until after Sadaf’s speech was announced.”
“That…oh, yeah, that makes sense. Originally the mortar attack is the OPFORs’ only focus, but yet somehow they’ve suborned one or two Secret Service agents and they have ‘em in their back pocket. Then one, or better yet both, of the moles gets assigned to the Camp David detail, and they realize that now that they have a golden opportunity to get at the other aliens as well. So they go off and hire four pros for the actual attack inside, plus a bunch of chucklefucks to act as a distraction, because that’s all they can afford since the four pros are asking for some serious money.”
Savoie leaned forward. “When did Chao and Grakosh leave Camp David?”
“It was, ah, three? No, four days after we got everyone settled, both the aliens and the special forces types.”
“Okay, so then the OPFOR gets word, courtesy of our moles, that one of the aliens is now heading to Alabama. But now they’re stretched so thin that they can’t afford anything other than to hire another bunch of dipshits to make a run at them and hope for the best.”
“And then the second bunch lets the FNG drive.”
They both laughed, but that humor settled down as they both thought through the chain of inference.
“It is pretty thin,” said Savoie at last. “There’s a lot of assumptions in there.”
“Yeah. But I do like the idea of our moles getting assigned at the last minute.”
She rubbed her forehead. “We had a bunch of new people come in when they decided to stow the Rithro crew there. Seven, no eight in all.”
“It’s a place to start,” said Hanson. He finished his tea. “C’mon, let’s see if we can get a meeting with the inquiry board.”
__________
A little while later and not very far away, three people sat in a well-lit but otherwise deadly dull room. At least the chairs were somewhat comfortable. Matt and Martinez sat at two chairs against one wall, while across from them McCoy sat sprawled sideways on another with a foul look on her face. She glowered at the far beige-painted wall. “This completely sucks. Why can’t we have our phones? I could at least play some mahjong.”
“This is a secure location, Corporal,” replied Matt. “Ixnay on the onephays.”
Martinez’s leg jittered. “How long are we gonna sit here? They said they’d call us in, like, an hour ago!”
“Dunno, it’s some kind of last-minute interview thing,” replied Matt with Zen-like calm.
The corporal looked over at Matt. “I don’t get you, man.”
Matt grinned. “Nobody gets me. I’m like the wind, baby!”
“That’s not…I mean, I watched you open up a dude like he was a bag of fuckin’ Doritos using nothing but a fuckin’ knife. Now you’re being all Caine from ‘Kung Fu’.”
“It’s good to know that the classics are still appreciated,” said Matt.
Martinez pointed at him. “If you start calling me ‘Grasshopper’ I will shoot you.”
McCoy turned her glare to the ceiling. “Maybe it’s a psychological test. They want to see if we crack under pressure and start yakking secrets.”
“I mean, I’m sure they’re recording us right now,” replied Matt. “But it’s merely as a precaution. I am also five-nines certain that none of us are suspects. We weren’t integrated into the compound’s overall security, and thus it would be unlikely that we could have let our four attackers in.”
“Not to mention, we were the ones to kill ‘em,” added Martinez. “Well, except for the one that Takh took care of.”
“Yep. This is…I won’t call it a formality, but the board just wants to know where you were and what you saw. Walk them through your personal timelines, understand? Tell them only what you know. If you don’t know something, then say so.”
McCoy turned herself around so that she now sprawled the other way. “This whole bullshit just bugs me. Takh and the others are off with a bunch of strangers and I…I mean, we aren't there to help protect them.”
Matt and Martinez shared a meaningful glance. “From what I heard, Takh is quite capable of taking care of himself,” said the latter with a grin. “You told me he pitched that one dude across the room like he was throwing a softball.”
For once, the petite corporal looked a bit flustered. “Yeah, but, I mean, what if some other potential bad guy gets the drop on him with a gun? I don’t like not being there. I just wanna know that he’s okay. I should be there, just to make sure.”
The smaller man snapped his fingers in the face of the taller, who sighed and took out his wallet. With great ceremony, Matt pulled out a five-dollar bill and placed it upon the now-upraised palm of Martinez.
“Told ya,” said Martinez with a grin.
She sat up and glared at them both. “That doesn’t mean anything! Takh is a good guy!”
“Nobody said he wasn’t,” replied Matt as he stowed his wallet. “He is indeed a good guy.”
“Yeah, seriously, we’re glad you two hooked up,” added Martinez. “Takh’s solid. Hell, I’d let him date my sister.”
“I. Am. Not. Hooked Up. With ANYONE.” McCoy now looked furious enough to chew nails.
Martinez stroked his chin. “Kissing might be a problem, though.”
Matt performed a similar chin-stroking action. “Hmm, indeed, Corporal, I do believe it might be a serious issue. One has all of those mandibles to contend with.” He hooked his fingers next to his mouth in an approximation of an udhyr’s face. “Still, I think that, with enough will and effort, one could figure it out. Like the man said, life finds a way.”
“But how much tongue is he packing?” posed Martinez. “You know what the man also says. Big dude, big tongue. Could make things more interesting, all around.”
The woman did not look amused. “Martinez, Toke? You are now both officially gigantic flatulating assholes.”
“C’mon, McCoy!” protested Martinez. “Think of it this way. A few years from now, let’s say we filthy humans are now part of the Coalition and I’m at some meet ‘n greet, and I just so happen to spy me an oh-so-very-fiiine udhyr mamacita from across the room. Now, I wanna do my bit for my species and approach her, and get some good old inter-species cultural interaction going on. But there’s all sorts of questions. How do I compliment her without insulting her culture? How am I supposed to get in good with her? How do the mechanics work? How do the various bits line up? We need details! You’re at the tip of the spear, we all need good intel!”
McCoy slumped back into her seat. “Over seven hundred billion Dimmadollars of defense spending, and yet somehow I wind up stuck in a room with you two fuckos…oh, by the way, Toke,” she added, pointing a finger at Matt, “why the hell can you and Sarge never go back to Okinawa?”
“Nice distraction, McCoy,” said Martinez. “My guess is some sort of wet-work shit.”
Matt just smiled. “Oh for fuck’s sake, I don’t kill everyone I meet. I was a Second LT at the time, managed to somehow leapfrog my way into officer ranks all the way from enlisted. Anyways, the Okinawa affair was merely a case of, well, one particular case of rye whiskey. The good sergeant…was he a sergeant then? Oh yeah, we had done some other stuff I can’t tell you about in someplace I can’t tell you where, and we were celebrating Shaw getting his third stripe. We’d got ahold of the previously-mentioned case of whiskey and then we began toasting to each other’s good health. We did a lot of toasting. Quite a lot of toasting. As you can imagine, the toasting went on and on until we, um, well we did some unwise things. It started out with us sparring-for-fun with each other in public and escalated from there. No locals were harmed, and nothing we did was hella illegal, or I would’ve never made Captain. Buuut the local government would definitely throw a shitfit if me or, God forbid, both of us set foot back on the island.” He chuckled. “Hell, the Okinawan customs people probably still have both of our pictures taped up inside their booths with a big old sign saying ‘DO NOT ADMIT THIS PERSON, YOU FOOL’ written above them.”
“What did you do?” asked Martinez. His eyes were big and soulful, like a kid asking for yet one more story before bedtime.
Matt shrugged. “I mean, I don’t remember much for obvious reasons. I’m almost sure we didn’t piss on any monuments, that would have definitely been cause for a serious demotion. We did do a number on some shrubbery, that I do remember. We decided it needed to be trimmed back, and so we did so. Using our bare hands. Seemed like a good idea at the time.”
A fearsome light came into McCoy’s eyes. “Martinez, do you know what this means?”
He looked at her all uncertain. “Um, Toke and Sarge have cast-iron livers?”
“No, you fool. Blackmail material.”
Matt pointed back at her. “Hey, now, I told you that in confidence. Besides, Shaw has a lot more to contend with right now.”
The reminder of the sergeant’s current crippled state brought the elevated atmosphere of the room back down. McCoy nodded as her smile faded. “Right. Hey, did you see the Prez’s speech at the UN?”
“Yep,” said Matt. “From what I’ve read, the political wrangling after it seems pretty tame compared to the usual.”
Martinez snorted. “No shit. Did either of you see the laundry list of shit that we might be able to do? Anti-aging, limb regrowth, cancer treatments which work well and which don’t half-kill the patient…hell, maybe even Alzheimer’s could be in our rear-view mirror. The grand high muckity-mucks are falling all over themselves to get that out into the world, for themselves if nobody else.”
“You’re way too cynical, Martinez,” said Matt.
“Oh fuck off. What if…okay, I know this sounds like a cheesy sci-fi concept, but what if they hoard all of the good shit for themselves and we peons get just the crumbs?”
Matt lapsed back into his meditative demeanor. “In that case, my dear corporal, you or I or McCoy or someone like us will show those hypothetical elites that, while they are indeed long-lived, they are not in fact immortal.”
The trio fell into silence for a few minutes. Then Martinez leaned over towards Matt. “Ah, a little birdie told me you were involved in questioning the prisoners we nabbed at Camp David.”
“I merely facilitated certain conversations,” replied Matt.
Martinez sighed. “What the fuck does that mean?”
“Ask me no questions and I will tell you no lies…Corporal.”
McCoy let out a growl. “Well, I heard these terrorist assholes are saying that the Breakers aren’t real, that it’s all fake videos from the Coalition.”
“Just to play devil’s advocate,” said Matt, “our AI image and video generation is already getting to the point where, soon, we puny humans could manufacture such evidence.”
“What?” Martinez looked as if he was about to launch himself at Matt.
Matt held up a calming hand. “I’m not saying it is fake. The Hubble pics are damned convincing.”
Martinez hiked up one foot to place it on his seat, then rested his chin on his knee. “Fuck. I guess it didn’t convince everyone.” He mused for a few moments. “Wait. What if we made it even more convincing?”
“How?” asked Matt.
“We send some humans up to the Rithro. Two or three at least. The boats can still make it up to the ship, right?”
For once Matt looked uncertain. “I think so? Dunno how many times they can come and go without recharging, we’ll have to ask ‘em.”
“Right, so we set up an even better publicity stunt than the Hubble pics. Choose a few people, from all over the world. We have ‘em travel up to the Rithro, take pics and video up close showing the damage. Even take ‘em inside the ship and get a full tour, maybe…if the crew is okay with that, of course.”
“Huh.” Matt sat back and pondered the idea. “That’s a really good idea, Martinez. I guess you aren’t as dumb as you look.”
The corporal responded with a slight smile at the verbal jab. “We’d need to choose the right people, though.”
“They’d have to be trustworthy…or at least someone that the entire world will consider trustworthy,” said Matt.
“Well known,” added McCoy. She no longer looked vengeful. “With recognizable faces and voices, and then they can go on all the talk shows after and say that, yes indeed, I got a tour of the ship and it is indeed quite banged up.”
Martinez stared at the far wall. “Some kind of celebrity? Heh. You think Tom Cruise would be up for it?”
Matt laughed. “That beautiful maniac? Hell, he’d insist on shooting an entire movie up there, with at least one action scene where he’s hanging off of the outside of the ship.”
They all smiled at the resulting mental image.
“Chao could work,” said McCoy into the silence. “She’s kind of a celebrity now. After all, she was the first human to come into contact with aliens, eh?” She gave Matt a big and very un-subtle wink.
To skirt the rather…unconventional methods used to achieve a positive First Contact, Matt’s role had been very much demoted in the official story. Now every recounting of the tale included a bit of ‘…oh, and there was also another person who stumbled across our brave woman in the midst of her attempts at informational exchange with the aliens…” His exact identity was also not published, under the screen of ‘he wishes to remain anonymous’.
“Oh bite me, McCoy, it’s fun,” replied Matt. He waggled his eyebrows. “Besides, I work better in the shadows!” He threw his forearm across his face like a half-assed Count Dracula trying to hide behind his cape.
Then he dropped his arm. “Yeah, Chao would be good as a current social-media darling. Of course, she might not want that. She strikes me as more of the wallflower type, for the most part.”
“We need more people,” said Martinez, as he stared at the floor. “Chao might be good on her own, but she’s got that motor-mouth talking thing when you get her going. It’s one or the other. Either she’s trying to shrink into a corner and take up as little space as possible, or suddenly you’re getting pulled into another corner for a doctoral dissertation on how minimal-energy transfer-orbits work.”
Matt pondered for a moment. “Wait, when did she do that? I never sat through one of those lectures.”
Martinez looked away and…well, Matt hoped that their supposed overlords were indeed recording this particular moment in time because the hard-bitten Hispanic special-forces corporal actually blushed.
McCoy, of course, realized a golden opportunity for payback and immediately pounced. “Why, Corporal Martinez,” she purred. “Doooo tell us. When did Chao Me Chu, heh, pull you into a corner? Hmmm?”
“She’s…she’s just real nice, that’s all,” replied Martinez. “I asked her a couple of questions, and she answered them. That’s all. We both love classic sci-fi, like Asimov and shit. I guess we bonded over that.”
Matt cleared his throat. “Aaaaand may I remind you two and everyone listening in that we have all been cooped up nuts-to-butts for awhile? Don’t mistake familiarity for romantic bullshit.” He pointed over at Martinez. “But you. If you can follow at least half of what she talks about, then you are absolutely without-a-single-fucking-doubt wasted as a corporal, even if you’re in a low-drag high-speed outfit like this. You hear me?”
“Um, yes sir.” It was the first time in McCoy’s memory that anyone had addressed Matt as befitting his perhaps-former rank.
“Good. You get your ass into college, somehow. You’re a smart guy, you’ll figure all that shit out. And as for Chao? Just give it room to breathe. Let her know you’re interested, but don’t press the matter.”
“Let her know?” For once Martinez looked completely lost. “How do I…” he trailed off. “I mean, I like her…and yeah, I mean I like her in that way, but she’s so damn smart and pretty and I’m just some dipshit meathead.”
“Hey, don’t sell yourself short,” said Matt. “You’re our dipshit meathead.”
McCoy’s vengeful smile faded. “Martinez…no, Luca.”
Martinez looked up in surprise at her use of his first name.
She continued. “Just talk to her. Neither of you have any clue as to what ‘normal’ social interactions look like. In your case, it’s because you’ve been a soldier for all of your adult life. In her case, it’s because she’s, well, because she’s Chao. So just walk up to her and be straightforward. Trust me, it’ll be like a breath of fresh air for her to not have to navigate social cues. Just say something like ‘Hey, I really like you, do you like me and do you want to go get a coffee sometime’? Start with that. Chao’s good people, the worst thing she’ll do is say no. She won’t yell at you or talk shit about you online. Buuuut, some sixth sense is telling me she won’t say no to getting some coffee with ya.”
Matt smiled. “McCoy, I think you might have a calling after you leave the military.”
She snorted. “Oh yeah, I’ll hang up my match-making shingle on the internet and start raking in the big bucks. Martinez is right, though. If we try to do a publicity stunt up at the Rithro, then we’ll need somebody alongside Chao to win the world over. Somebody well-known, but preferably someone not in the traditional Western pop-culture sphere. That’ll make it more palatable…”
Her voice trailed off and she stared into space. The two men now looked at each other in genuine concern until she spoke again a few moments later.
“Guys? I think I just had the best idea ever.”

submitted by Frank_Leroux to HFY [link] [comments]

2023.06.03 18:47 HardGhoulem Kora the Mountain Monk(Anti-Diver Artillery Mage/Tank)

Passive: Inbalance Highlight: Whenever you deal damage to an enemy through abillities or autos you apply a stack of Inbalance on them for 6s refreshing with each further stack applied and stacking up indefinitely.
Inbalance: After 6 stacks, your enemy's Magic Resist is reduced by 10-20(Based on level)% and their Attack Damage and Abillity Power are reduced by 5-10(Based on level)%. Stacks after the 6th further increase the Magic Resist reduction by 1% and the Attack Damage and Abillity Power reduction by 0.5%.

Q - Orbs of Balance:
Cost: 50/45/40/35/30 Mana + 1 Orb of Balance
Range: 1350
Cooldown: 3s
Passive***: Every 12/10/8/6/4s create an Orb of Balance up to 2/3/4/5/6 Orbs. These Orbs orbit around you and dealing 60/80/100/120/140(+50% AP) magic damage and marking enemies for 3s. Marked enemies only take 20% of the damage from the passive Orb orbit.
Active: Channel over this abillity's duration, immobilizing yourself, for every 0.45/0.4/0.35/0.3/0.25s channeled shoot one of your orbs dealing 30/40/50/60/70(+30% AP) Magic Damage per Orb to the first enemy hit.

W - Shining Light:
Cost: 60/70/80/90/100 Mana
Range: 3000/3500/4000/4500/5000
Cooldown:20/18/16/14/12s
Active: After 1.25s summon a shining light at the targeted location for 3s, granting vision and dealing 1/1.5/2/2.5/3(+0.5% AP)% of the targets Max Health as Magic Damage every 0.5s. Any of Kora's Orbs of Balance will instead be transfered to the light's location and orbit around it's edges. Kora regains 20/40/60/80/100(+9% bonus HP) Health while inside the light's area and is granted a 50/75/100/125/150(+35% AP, +9% bonus HP) shield. Orbs shot from within the Shining Light will always orbit to the front of the Shining Light to shoot from it and therefore will never touch the Shining Light's center.

E - Foo Wave:
Cost: 60/70/80/90/100 Mana
Range: 1100
Cooldown: 14/13/12/11/10s
Active: Kora claps his hands creating a massive soundwave that deals 100/120/140/160/180(+60% AP) magic damage and slows the enemy by 20/30/40/50/60% for 2s. If the enemy hit has 6 stacks of Inbalance, you regain 1/1/2/2/3 Orbs of Balance and this abillity stuns instead, after the 6th stack the stun duration increases by 0.1s.

R - Art of Balance:
Cost: 100 Mana + Atleast 1 Orb of Balance
Range: 0-4000 (150% of the Projectile Speed)
Cooldown: 120/100/80s
Width: 200(+20 per Orb of Balance consumed after the 1st)
Pull Strenght*: 200(+30 per Orb of Balance consumed after the 1st)
ProjectileSpeed: 0-2000(Based on cast distance**)
Projectile Duration: 2s
Passive: Gain 1/2/3% bonus Armor and Magic Resist per Orb Active. Increase Orb cap by +1/2/3 when this abillity is not on cooldown.
Active: Instant casting(Under 0.35s) will use this abillity consuming only 1 Orb of Balance, after 0.35s, every 0.2s consume another orb of Balance to empower this abillity. Launch Mega Orb that deals 80/120/160(+40% AP) Magic Damage + 40/50/60(+20% AP) magic Damage per orb consumed after the first one. The Mega Orb pulls enemies to it's center and applies a stack of inbalance every 0.75s to enemies it pulls.

*Pull Strenght: Basically pushes enemies towards it's center. An enemy with 200 speed moving away from the center with a Pull Force of 200 will be immobilized. An enemy with 100 speed moving away from the center with a Pull force of 200 will be pulled at a speed of 100. An enemy with 300 speed moving away from the center with a Pull Force of 200 will move away at a speed of 100. Basically it uses vectors to calculate the direction the pulled target will go.

**Ult's Projectile Speed:
CastRange: 0-250: 0 Projectile Speed
CastRange: 251-500: 250 Projectile Speed
CastRange: 501-750: 500 Projectile Speed
CastRange: 751-1000: 1000 Projectile Speed
CastRange: 1001 and above: 2000 Projectile Speed

***Orbs of Balance(Passive): Orbs of Balance orbit around Kora at around 1 loop/1.5s. This means with 6 orbs, each second 4 Orbs will deal damage to the enemy(With 9 orbs, 6 orbs will deal damage instead.)

Builds:
Full AP: Burst Mage
Tank: Top LaneSupport

Playstyle:
Mage: You want to poke with Q until the enemy reaches 6 stacks and then use E to stun them and Q them for a quick burst. You can use E to gain vision, help other lanes or even stack your passive in an enemy that's behind minions but you will lose your Orb's protection. You can cast it on yourself to heal yourself and even deal damage and stack passive on divers. Your Q's passive is a way to stack your passive very fast allowing you to use E to stun your enemies and get out. W + Q can also deal a fair amount of burst onto other lanes but you will become vulnerable for W's duration and you can't place W on top of the enemy otherwise the orbs won't hit, and unless the enemy is stunned it's unlikely you'll hit all of your orbs(Especially considering W's 1.25s of delay.)
Your Ult has 2 purposes, CC &Burst or Poke&Burst. Casting at max range will make it's pull almost innefective as the projectile will move much faster than it can pull and it won't apply many stacks, but it still deals a burst of damage at a high range. Casting it on top of yourself will pretty much pull sucessfully anything with less than 470 movement speed(If you consumed 9 orbs), deal high damage and apply a lot of your stacks. The main disvantage of this ult is the time it takes to channel and consume all orbs. It's usually better to use it after stunning with E or stealthily from some bushes.
Tank: Can use Mages combos, but due to lack of damage you will usually want to avoid using Q and will just try to be on top of the enemy using Q's passive to stack your passive and reduce their Magic Resist and Damage, use W almost exclusively on yourself to heal/shield yourself as it won't deal much damage without AP, E will be much easier to stun if you are able to get on top of the enemy. Your Ult will also deal much less damage so you will always want to use it on top of yourself after an E stun to extend your CC duration. After level 6 your R will give you bonus resists as long as you don't use Q.

Cons:
It's a very easy to exploit champ. Your burst comes from Q. Using a full Q makes you wait a long time to get a great burst gain. Using W at the wrong time far from you removes any damage from the Q's passive and active in your lane and pretty much garantees your E will be useless as well if the enemy didn't have the 6 Inbalance stacks already. E can AoE stun but if the enemies hide behind minions you will be forced to use W(Or autos) to stack your passive, during which they can exploit your lack of Orbs around you. Your Ult also requires a fairly long channel time to be effective. Missusing ult will diminish your Q's burst.
AP Kora: Struggles vs ranged enemies if they just stay behind minions because he can't stack it's passive and stun them without having to use W. Against Divers his already game is fairly simple while they don't have damage whenever they dive you use your Q's passive to stack your passive very fast and W if necessary to survive, and then just E them and use Q again for some burst or just run away, in the late game however strong assassins will just kill you before you can stack your passive on them with Q's passive Orbs(This doesn't apply to Tank Kora).
Tank Kora: Immobilize. Unlike AP Kora your ranged damage is very low, and your main source of damage comes from your Q's passive Orbs + Your Passive while your on top of the enemies, but Kora is immobile so enemies with dashes can just dash away from your orbs. Rylai's can still help but only vs enemies without dashes. Tank Kora's main purpose is to be on top of the enemy which thanks to it's passive means if he survives enough it garantees the win, in team fights however it's conditional CC means he has a much harder job getting on top of the enemies and reducing their Damage/MR.

submitted by HardGhoulem to LoLChampConcepts [link] [comments]

2023.06.03 18:46 RobertSKeene [The Primeval Apocalypse] - Chapter Seventy-Six: Interlude 2 (collaboration with u/hydrael)

The Primeval Apocalypse by Robert Keene and Alex Raizman
Start here (Prologue) Previous
***
Author's Note:
Sorry for the delay folks; I actually slept in today. This was a rough week.
Welcome to my second favorite chapter... of course it's another Interlude.
***
This wasn’t how things were supposed to go.
Things had been going wrong for a long time. Ever since the Accursed Ridgeless had arrived, the world had changed for the worse. Vermin scrambling the surface of our world. Dirtying the precious stone with their short-fingered feet and daring to set their hands on it. It was the Flesh And Bone Of God and they dared to take it up? I could not imagine a larger blasphemy than such filthy little monsters carving and crafting with stone. Bearing it on their bodies and as their weapons without a Father’s permission.
Vermin though they were, they were fierce. They killed my successor and forced me to continue to hold the mantle of Father in SongLight for some years yet, until I could train the next. The Citadel had been expecting me back for my retirement. The Father who had trained me could not move on until I was there to replace him—as I had taken his station here in SongLight.
And these pests would never understand what they had ruined. How their interference had harmed the Theomilitary. What would happen if they stopped us from honoring and pleasing our God.
Well, most of them would never understand.
Even now, slipping away to the south of SongLight, I shuddered, remembering the Ridgeless Speaker. I hadn’t believed Olaalo when she’d said that one of them had spoken to her—taunting Irmaamri and the attack team while battling them. But I also hadn’t believed that one of those vermin had a monster under its control, and that that was all it had taken to defeat the team and their mounts.
But I’d seen him. The Ridgeless Speaker. Bearing a weapon made from God’s Bones, and issuing the same sorts of taunts Olaalo had spoken of. And at its command, a beast had leaped to join the battle at its side.
What was more, the beast had retained its natural abilities. Unlike what we had tamed, it was not reduced to brute strength alone.
There were only two ways to tame a beast in such a way.
One was heretical.
Unthinkable.
It would require the Ridgeless to be Classed Beings, which was impossible. They were just pack animals with a social structure we didn’t yet understand that granted them class-like abilities.
The other way was not heretical, but did involve a heretic.
The Shaman.
It pained me to retreat from SongLight. The battle was lost, though. Any could see it. While it was my duty to give my life in service to the Theomilitary if my time came, the Citadel would not demand my death to be wasted. And I could not overlook this obvious betrayal.
The Shaman had been working with the Ridgeless. It was the only way they could have another type of beast on their side. It was the only way they could have known how we were controlling our beasts and destroyed our stockpiles. And it was the only way the Ridgeless Speaker could have been able to turn The Big One against us.
As usual, it wasn’t long after I entered his territory that he came to me. I sensed him just before he appeared, thumping loudly out from behind a tree, even though I hadn’t heard him until he was well within range of my hearing.
He was covered in the dingy layered robes of an ascetic, with a leather hood that obscured his features. He managed to be lanky and stubby at the same time. No doubt from whatever birth defect had driven him to seek a heretical path, separating himself from the priesthood.
While my first urge was to tear his arms off for his crimes, I needed him to answer for them first. Not to mention that I needed him to give me the secrets he’d given the Ridgeless Speaker.
“Explain yourself,” I hooted angrily, my gestures clipped abruptly to make clear just how displeased I was, “and perhaps the Citadel will give you a quick death.”
The Shaman regarded me wordlessly for a long moment, as he always did. His bargaining tactic to make himself appear strange and mysterious. But I knew what the Mandrill within the costume was.
“Deserter. Heretic.” I gritted my teeth and stood up tall, spreading my arms to show him how near he was to facing violence. “You turned your back on your people to become a monster out among the wilds. Do not be surprised that I recognize your second betrayal! Answer me. What have you made the Accursed Ridgeless into? And what did you give them that you refuse to give us?”
The Shaman had no words for another long pause. He tilted his head at me, trying to feign confusion. But I could feel the mockery in the gesture from its slow and deliberate nature.
“I have not kept anything from you,” the Shaman said at last, his gestures clumsy and vague as usual.
Whatever defect made him so weird-looking and lumpy garbled his communication. I had counseled Linnel carefully to avoid letting his impediment stir her to anger with him, but now that my patience was at its limit, I was the one who needed that counsel.
“The Accursed Ridgeless,” I said, gesturing slowly and carefully to make sure that he could understand. “They have a loyal beast now. One who is not bound by the same herbal concoction you gave us. Why? How?”
“I cannot say why,” the Shaman gestured slowly. “It was his choice, and he did not share his motivation with me. I can say how. But you will not like what I say.”
“Blasphemy,” I snapped the gesture out so fast it was nearly as slurred as the Shaman’s slowed speech. “Your life is forfeit if you even speak such heresy aloud.”
“Then I will not say it,” the Shaman said. “But that will not make it less true.”
The suggestion was ridiculous. It called everything into question and would throw the Theomilitary into chaos. If the Ridgeless could be Classed, would that mean they deserved representation at the Citadel?
Were we obligated to educate them on God’s Plan?
Were we obligated to protect them from the wilds?
Or were they the True Foe?
Were they part of the prophecy delivered by God to the First Fathers? The enemy that had driven them to form the Theomilitary in the first place?
“But you did help him—it,” I said, quickly correcting myself. Even accidentally affording one of the Ridgeless the respect owed to thinking beings felt like blasphemy. “You did betray us. You gave them the tools to destroy SongLight. You even admit it.”
“I did not give him the tools,” the Shaman said, stepping forward towards me. “I only pointed him at you. And like the bolt from a slinger, he has landed. Struck you down. As I wanted.”
“You dare—” I sputtered. The ominous appearance he cast with his leather hood and lumpy robes made me step back, but I stopped myself, standing my ground. “Why? Why would you betray us? Do you not understand that you owe us your loyalty?”
He stepped forward again.
I didn’t like getting close to him. The cloying stink of mud and waste followed him like a cloud, and I could physically feel the smell hitting me.
“I owe you nothing,” the Shaman said as he continued his advance. “You were going to be important, but I’ve found something better. He has what you lack. He has what I need.”
“What could one of those things possibly offer you?” I demanded, raising my fists. If he wanted to challenge me—to speed his inevitable execution—then I had no problem with following through on my threats.
“I’m afraid your primitive… gesture-talk doesn’t have the words for it.” The Shaman made a gesture with his hands that was not language. “And telling you will have no effect. I cannot have you interfering further. Not after you nearly injured his animal.”
Vines sprouted from the roots at my feet. They tangled in my legs first, pulling me to my knees before I could throw a punch. I swiped at him as best I could, but the vines rushed up my body snaring my arm and stopping me.
I was immobilized, but I was more than tough enough to endure the squeeze. Even as the vines wrapped around my throat, I was too strong for them to cut off my breathing.
The Shaman made another gesture that was not language. Calling upon his class abilities.
I didn’t recognize it. A forbidden class? Perhaps his heretical exile was not self-imposed. He had chosen a path that Mandrills were not supposed to follow.
Lumps formed in the nearby tree trunks, and wooden figures shaped like headless Mandrills began to emerge, pulling themselves from the trunks. More tore up out of the soil, clawing their way up out of the roots beneath us. As they emerged from where they grew, they shambled towards the Shaman and lined up behind him, forming an ominous row of thick-limbed guards clearly intended to intimidate me.
I was not frightened.
Not until the Shaman did something I did not expect.
He made noises.
Ridgeless noises, accompanied by no Mandrill gesture.
A ululating song that was almost complex enough to be a language of its own.
Unlike the Ridgeless Speaker, I didn’t understand what he—no, it—meant by the noises. But at his gesture, the wooden figures moved up to begin the slow and arduous process of beating me to death. The Shaman didn’t even stay to watch, walking away with a much more graceful gait—that of a ridgeless rather than a deformed Mandrill.
Sorry, son, he had said. But this show needs a more charismatic star than any of your people will ever be.

submitted by RobertSKeene to redditserials [link] [comments]

2023.06.03 18:44 CIAHerpes The Leatherman building has something strange in the basement

The building had a reputation for being haunted. Kids would dare each other to go inside, but unlike other places around town, they would actually see something- or at least claim that they did.
Little Jamie Curry, 9-years-old, went into the basement of the abandoned Leatherman’s complex on a dare and saw a zombie. He said he knew it wasn’t just some guy in an outfit because the zombie had a grapefruit-sized hole in its chest, and he could actually see right through the middle of the thing. He had run right past his group of friends who were patiently waiting outside, screaming and wetting himself as he went.
Another young kid from my town, Alicia DeSilva, 11-years-old, said it was all a bunch of garbage, that she wasn’t afraid of a run-down factory building, except for maybe the asbestos which her uncle told her “rots your lungs from the inside”. She had said she would even go inside it at night. Why not? After all, there were no such things as ghosts or boogeymen.
One of her friends told Alicia that if she went inside Leatherman’s main building at night, grabbed something from the basement and brought it back out for their mutual inspection, the friend would pay Alicia five dollars. Alicia had gasped. Five bucks was a good amount to someone like her. With five dollars, she could even get a kit so that she could finally fix her bike tire. They all met in front of the building, and Alicia disappeared into the dark fire doors on the side of the building, full of bravado and still laughing as she went inside.
Except unlike Jamie Curry, Alicia never came back out screaming and wetting herself, never had a chance to tell some unbelievable story about what she encountered in the fetid basement of that place. Her body was never found. The police were called after a few hours, and they searched the entire building from top to bottom. They were able to follow some fresh footprints in the dust that might have been Alicia’s, but when they got to the basement, the prints just disappeared- as if the person making them had simply gotten sucked up into the ceiling. And yet they did find one thing, the only real evidence left in the entire building that night. What they found still gives me nightmares sometimes.
One of her eyeballs was inside a snowglobe. The glass and foundation of the snowglobe were all intact, and there were no signs of foul play anywhere on the decoration. It was as if it had been manufactured that way- with that blue, staring eye floating lazily next to plastic mountains and white glitter snowflakes.
In my nightmares, I often see an old woman shaking that snowglobe, an old hag who cackles and whose split lips form into a dreadful smile as she stares directly at me. The eye and the glitter all hang suspended in the water for a moment, then begin to fall slowly, the eye spinning rapidly as it drifts down the front of the globe. And when it’s stopped, I see it is looking directly at me, and it still looks frightened.
***
OK, so that last paragraph was pretty dark. But what I’m trying to communicate is just how terrifying that place is. The kids in school know what’s going on, though, at least in a general way. After all, Alicia and Jamie came from among them, and they’re not the only ones. Others have gone into the building before. And Matt wants me to go with him tomorrow to look at it.
Maybe that’s why the dreams are getting worse. Maybe that’s why I’ve woken up screaming twice in the last few hours. Because there was something else, too, something else I saw in my nightmares. In that building, around the back walls, there were dozens of kids. Their skin was chalk-white, their hair and eyes all pure black. They were dead. And then thousands of “Missing” posters started to fly down, all of them of smiling children. I looked between the ones surrounding me and the posters and noticed that some of them showed these same kids. I turned to run but little rotted hands started pulling me down and then, I was sitting straight up in bed, yelling and pleading.
I really don’t want to go in that building tomorrow.
***
OK, so Matt and I went inside the doorway. No way was I going in the basement. But just the front doorway… well, that wasn’t too bad. I even stuck my head in and looked around inside.
Matt didn’t see it, but I did. There was something huge in the front hall. It wasn’t much more than a silhouette. It looked like a very tall, very thin man in a suit whose neck was all twisted and strange. It came off his chest like a snake’s, turning and curling back on itself, and at the end it had this reptilian face. Everything about the man was hairless and slimy. I could smell the strange stuff on his skin.
But by the time I had gotten Matt’s attention and pointed it out to him, the guy was gone. I don’t know how he disappeared so fast.
Matt was making fun of me as we walked home afterwards, pointing at random alleyways and asking, “Do you see him there, too?” and then laughing. It wasn’t that funny. I’ll prove to him there was someone in there.
***
I convinced Matt to come back with me. I need to see what’s in there. He wasn’t thrilled about it, but I told him an older kid offered to pay $10 for a souvenir from the place, and that I’d split it with him if he went with me. All of this was total crap, of course. But I want to see what was in there, and I definitely want these dreams to stop.
“You know, you’re lucky you have a friend as brave and manly as me,” Matt said, puffing up his little bird-chest. “After what happened to those other schmucks, everyone has been avoiding this place like the plague.”
“Yeah, but unlike all of them, you know it’s just a building,” I said. He gave me a funny look then.
“It’s just a building, but you know something actually happened,” he said. “I was talking to my dad about it, and he said maybe a homeless guy was living there, totally deranged, and maybe he cut out Alicia’s eye and kidnapped her.” He stated this was the seriousness of a news anchor recounting bits of total bullshit for the audience. I smiled at his grave expression, repressing an urge to laugh. He looked over at me disapprovingly. “It could have happened, you know. Homeless people are homeless because they’re crazy. My dad says so. Maybe one of them just went really crazy and started taking souvenirs off of people’s bodies.”
“I guess,” I said. We were most of the way through the old industrial part of town now. Shuttered factories and condemned buildings stretched out on both sides of the street. A fat, limping raccoon walked lazily out of a nearby alleyway. He gave us a sideways glance, stopping for a moment, then kept on maneuvering his round frame forward. Something that Matt had said had given me pause.
“You know,” I said, “it’s kinda weird that we don’t have homeless people out here. We have all these empty buildings, yet most of them camp out on the sidewalks on Main Street. I’ve never seen a single homeless person sleeping in one of these buildings, and I’ve never seen one even close to the Leatherman building. It’s like they have some sort of sixth sense to avoid the place.”
“Clearly they’re smarter than you and me,” Matt muttered. We were walking past the rusty metal chain link fence around the property. He looked pale and his eyes were wide. “Are you sure you want to do this?” Right then, my instincts screamed at me to run.
“Yes,” I said simply, walking in first, taking the flashlight out of my pocket. “I need to know. For sure. Either way, I’d like evidence. Either it is my imagination, or something supernatural actually exists within and around this building.” An old, musty smell permeated the huge hallway. I looked up and down it, wondering what was missing. Then I realized- it had no graffiti. It had to be the only abandoned building I’d ever been in without tons of graffiti scrawled on the inside.
In some places, the walls had begun to buckle, and whole sections were crumbling and coming down. Farther ahead, the ceiling had collapsed inwards, blocking half of the main hallway off. Downstairs, lights started turning on, and the entire building started to come to life. I looked at Matt, who was looking dazed.
“Bro, what the hell is that?” he asked. I had no idea.
“Someone’s in here with us,” I said. “Let’s go check it out.” He looked at me like I was insane.
“Are you mad? What if it’s cops? What if it’s tweakers pulling out all the metal?”
“We’ll be quiet, and just peek around the corner,” I said. “I think we’re meant to see this. Don’t you want to know what’s going on here?” He scowled.
“I’d much rather get home alive,” he said, but he followed me reluctantly. There was a rhythmic hum coming from the floors now, as if machinery were coming to life. A sign, dirty and covered in spiderwebs, pointed to a staircase on the right. I looked down it, seeing bright light flood into the stairwell corridor, despite the fact that there was no electricity running to this building. We started down the staircase to the basement level. There was a smell of ozone in the air, a cyclical rhythmic humming that popped and buzzed. I took a deep breath, wondering what I would see down here. Then I poked my head around the corner.
There were conveyor belts stretching against the basement, their legs embedded into the cracked concrete floors. Beams and pillars ran up from the floor to the ceiling every ten feet or so. And it looked like there were countless workers just sitting on each side of the conveyor belts, sitting in crooked wooden chairs with splintering legs and backs. But it was the workers who caught my attention most of all. They looked… strange.
“Does something look off to you?” I whispered to Matt, who had been standing behind me only a moment earlier. But I got no reply. I figured he was too engrossed in the bizarre nature of what we were seeing to respond.
The workers, if that’s what they were, looked blurred, as if in an overexposed picture with a long shutter speed. Their skin appeared to writhe and crackle, some of their heads constantly turned from side to side, and their limbs… all of them appeared to be missing limbs. I saw pale, white bodies without arms, without legs, even without heads, but they all still continued working in unison, moving in that jerky, blurred way.
“Jesus, Matt, do you see?” I asked suddenly, my eyes widening. “Do you see what they’re doing?” I looked forward in horror as I saw human bodies rolled down the conveyor belts. The people were still alive. They were naked, many of them crying and covered in blood. As they passed by the workers, the blurred hands quickly took pieces of their skin off. Glistening sheets of it were raised by other workers walking along between the lines, and they would give an admiring look at the large pieces of skin, smiling eerily as their heads writhed from side to side and blurred in my vision.
And I saw the kids from my dream, the kids from the missing persons posters, all in the corner. They were huddled, emaciated, with wide, staring eyes. They trembled and cowered as some of the workers came over to grab them and throw them on the belts.
I turned to get the hell out of there, and that was when I realized Matt was no longer behind me. I caught a glimpse of something dark and massive moving at the top of the stairs, disappearing around the corner. I was alone. I know I should have stayed and looked for Matt, but instead, I ran. I got out of that place and went home and hid under my blankets.
I thought 13 was old enough to deal with this, but it has gone way beyond what I thought.
***
Matt’s parents are calling. My parents stand at the bottom of the stairs, my mother holding the landline in her thin hand, my father looking disturbed. They tell me that Matt is missing, that he never came home last night. What should I tell them? Certainly not the truth. If I started talking about the things in that building, I would be forced into a psychiatric ward before the week was up.
The police stopped by and asked me a few questions. I told them all straight-up lies. “No sir, I haven’t seen him, and I have no idea what happened to him.” But what else could I say? That he was taken by something from a nightmare?
I have to go back. I have to try to rescue Matt. I shouldn’t have ran like I did, but seeing those things cutting up people like that… it scared the shit out of me. Tonight, once my parents go to sleep, I’m going to sneak out, and everyone will think I’m a hero if I bring him back. If I don’t, I’ll probably end up as just another stupid missing kid who ended up way over his head.
***
I went back. I made it out, but I think they’re coming for me. There was something in the basement.
All of the conveyor belts were gone, the lights were off, the rhythmic hum had disappeared. It was as if the other night was all a hallucination- except for, of course, Matt is still missing. His parents are freaking out, and I can’t even tell them I know what happened to him, kinda.
Going into the building alone was terrifying. My legs felt like wood, and I kept glancing behind me every second as if I were hearing imaginary pursuers. But I walked through to the staircase, and I saw nothing.
I went down to the basement, peeking my head around the corner. It was just a mostly empty basement, some broken furniture and old boxes stacked in one corner. I shone my light all over and saw no one. But there was a light coming from the far corner, a faint, glowing, orange light. A feeling of dread came over me.
I crept slowly forward, trying to find the source of that light. A faint smell of smoke and roasting meat seemed to creep through the air. Off past the last line of boxes, I saw what looked like a small crater on the floor. There was a hole there with glowing fire underneath. Cracks spiderwebbed out from it in all directions for a few feet. More curious than afraid now, I peered forward and looked down.
Beneath the abandoned building, there was another world. It had fire licking the walls and ground, and in the middle of this inferno, I saw Matt. His face was a map of blackish-purple bruises, his head was cocked at an unnatural angle, and I saw blood pouring out of his ears and nose. He looked up at me, and the bones in his neck grated together. I saw his spine was broken and his entire throat was crushed inwards.
“Help me,” he croaked. “You brought me here, now help me. You can’t leave me. They’ll come for you next…” All around him, I saw hands reaching up- the pale, jerky hands of those strange workers. They grabbed Matt and dragged him back down to the fire. I saw other horrid creatures in the flames, some laughing and insane, others shrieking in agony. Large, black insectile silhouettes moved through the smoke and flames. And then, like one, they started coming up towards the hole, coming up to the building where they would be free.
I ran then, and I never went back. I know now that Matt is dead. I can’t sleep. Every time I look out the window, I see shapes in the front yard- blurred humanoids with missing limbs, hiding in the bushes and trees, and constantly inching closer.

submitted by CIAHerpes to nosleep [link] [comments]

2023.06.03 18:25 297853146 Serious foot pain after running 5k

I ran my first Parkrun today and really enjoyed it, I finished in just under 32 minutes which is faster than I expected! During the run I felt some minor tension in my foot in the last 10-15 minutes or so but no real pain. Afterwards, though, I developed some pretty severe pain in the top of my foot. I can't walk without limping quite badly, and I experience sharp shooting pains when I put weight on my foot. Even just walking through my house, bending down to pick things up, putting shoes on, etc. feels like a huge undertaking. I can't wriggle my toes without being in a lot of pain. It's only been a few hours but I'm pretty concerned about this as I've had running injuries before but they've never been this painful.
For reference, I started running a little over a year ago but I've had to take time off due to injury a few times and build up my stamina again using C25K. For the past few weeks I've been running for up to 30 minutes at a very steady pace after having taken a month or so off due to shin splints. I didn't really feel like I was pushing myself in terms of speed today but I think being around other runners probably made me run a little faster than I would have otherwise -- today is probably the furthest I've ever run, but not by very much. The route was also a little bit more trail-based than I'm used to as I mostly run on concrete, but the ground wasn't super uneven or anything like that. I'm 20, female, and a healthy weight, if any of that is relevant at all.
I'm really not sure what to do about this pain or at what point I'll need to see a doctor if it persists. It's really disheartening as I love running and had a really great time today. I'm not sure what this could be or how to treat it (aside from resting until the pain is gone or mostly gone).

submitted by 297853146 to TurtleRunners [link] [comments]

2023.06.03 18:24 HorrorJunkie123 My Girlfriend was Convinced that I Cheated on Her. I Swore that I Didn't, but I Met a Stranger in the Street, and Now I'm Not so Sure.

“Baby, please don’t leave. We can talk this out. It was just a dream, I promise.”
“Jen, you accused me of cheating on you. Even after what happened with my ex, you really thought I was capable of infidelity,” I said, hoisting my bag onto my back.
“Kenny, I’m sorry. How many times do I have to apologize? I was out of line and I shouldn’t have said that. But you have to see it from my point of view. I-”
“Your point of view?! Jen, you woke up today screaming at me and trying to prove that I fucked some imaginary girl. I do see it from your point of view.”
She stared at her feet for a long time. The tension in the air was thick enough to cut with a knife. When my girlfriend finally glanced up, tears were beginning to spill from her eyes. I wanted nothing more than to wrap her in a bear hug and tell her that everything was okay. But it wasn’t. And we both knew that.
“I’m about to leave,” I said, as a pang of guilt stabbed through my chest like a bayonet, “I’ll call you in a couple days when I’ve had a chance to think things over, alright?”
Jen shuffled over and threw her arms around me before I had a chance to protest. I didn’t return the gesture.
“I’m sorry, baby. I’ll give you your space. I love you, my Ken doll.”
I gazed down at her despondently as she released me from her grip.
“I’ll see you in a few days, Jen. Goodbye.”
Her bottom lip quivered as I slammed the door in her face. Tears clouded my vision as I reversed out of the driveway of our shared apartment. Was I really doing this? Maybe I should just forgive her. I really did love her, after all. No. I needed to do this. And Jen needed to learn that her words carry weight.
I spent the next couple of days at my parents' house. I told them that Jen and I had gotten into it, but I didn’t elaborate. They didn’t pry, sensing that I could use some space. I took some much-needed time to myself to mull things over. I was leaning toward returning home and taking Jen back when I received a call that turned my world upside down.
“Hello? Mrs. Thompson, is everything okay?”
My heart thudded against my ribcage as I heard muffled sniffles on the other end of the line.
“Kenny, it’s Jen. She’s been in an accident. She’s in the ICU. They don’t know if she’s going to make it.”
She burst into hysterics, leaving me to process those devastating words.
“Wha- no, that can’t. I- Which hospital is she at?”
“Methodist.”
“I’m on my way,” I said, adrenaline surging through my veins as I bolted to my car.
I flew down the empty streets, doing well over the speed limit. I felt numb as I drove, praying to any god that would listen for Jen’s recovery. What had I done? My girlfriend meant the world to me and now there was a chance that I could lose her forever without even getting a chance to say goodbye.
I skidded onto a desolate road, nearly to my destination, when my heart stopped. A man in a brown leather jacket stood in the middle of the road. His round-rimmed glasses glinted in my headlights as I slammed on the breaks and swerved. Time felt like it slowed to a crawl. The stranger’s stare followed me as I lost control. My life flashed before my eyes. And then, it was over as quickly as it began.
I suddenly found myself slumped against the steering wheel, blood smearing a deflated airbag. I leaned up, pain immediately searing through my right leg. I screamed in agony as a figure approached my demolished Camaro.
“You really screwed up, man. You should’ve paid me my due.”
I furrowed my brows, racking my brain, but coming up empty.
“What the hell are you talking about? I’ve never met you, dude.”
“Are you sure about that?” he asked, placing a hand on my shoulder.
A torrent of memories began to flood through my brain. He was right. I had met him before. And that filled me with a kind of primal fear that I hope I never experience again.
“Wayne.”
“That’s right,” he said, “real shame that you couldn’t control yourself around that little brunette from work. I cleaned up your mess. Now it’s time to pay the piper.”
“It was one stupid mistake. Look, Jen is in the hospital. I really need to go. I’ll pay you later, just please let me see her,” I sobbed, tears spilling down my face. He pondered for a moment.
“Okay. I’ll cut you a deal. I’ll make all of this go away, again, then you and your little girlfriend can live happily ever after. But you have to give me what I want. Right here, right now.”
“Well, what do you want?”
A nauseating smile inched its way across his lips as dread seeped into my heart. I swore that for a second, I glimpsed a forked tongue slither between his teeth. What he said next sent abject hopelessness sinking into my stomach like a stone.
“I want your soul.”
***
I awoke in a familiar room. A girl lay beside me, facing the wall. I’d recognize that petite frame and those platinum blonde highlights anywhere. It was Jen. She was okay. Pure unabated contentment flooded through me. Until I remembered my conversation with Wayne. I have a feeling that I won’t be getting any more second chances. As I lay here, holding the love of my life, I can only hope that I’ve made the right decision.
XX

submitted by HorrorJunkie123 to nosleep [link] [comments]

2023.06.03 18:18 apyrexia_qc my GPU driver keeps crashing on a freshly built pc making my life miserable

Specs: CPU 7800X3D Board - MSI b650-p wifi (Newest BIOS) GPU XFX MERC 7900 XTX Ram DDR5 G.skill 6400 cl32 (16x2)gb PSU Cooler Master v1000
I am using a Single monitor - ASUS PG279Q with 165Hz.
Ever since i built my pc ( 1 month ago - in the beginning of May 23) - i have been experiencing - Random crashes, My PC Just freezes, My monitor is doing one blink - and screen goes completely black. sometimes it will recover but other times i have to reset my PC. This is happening not only while gaming BUT it does also happen on regular desktop use like browsing the internet (Firefox) and when idle on desktop. I have been taking many steps trying to solve the issue myself and nothing worked out, my PC keep crashing: 1. Lowering HZ to 144. 2. Installing minimal driver "Driver only" without the Adrenaline software GUI. 3. Disabling the Internal GPU of my CPU. 4. Updating the BIOS, Using only stock RAM speeds (NO EXPO, NO XMP), NO Overclockingat all - NO PBO. Loaded Optimized Defaults settings for BIOS. 5. Been Monitoring my temps all the time - no overheating. 6. Installing latest chipset drivers. 7. Disabling MPO. 8. Using vaious older driver versions, even went back to 22.12.2 - it was still crashing. 9. Complete Fresh install of windows 10 and all my games and applications. 10. Benchmarks like Superposition / 3dmark / Passmark / cinebench r23 - most of the time benchmarks were running without crashing. (results i had are within normal range for other PCs with similar parts). 11. AMD DRIVER 23.5.1 was released and it didnt fix the issue. 12. on June 1st 2023 AMD Released driver 23.5.2 - That didnt fix my issue.

June 3rd - i have installed windows 11, latest AMD chipset + Instead of the normal Adrenaline drivers i install the AMD Pro software (should be more stable) - That didnt help!
I tried running my application as administrator + Disabled Hardware acceleration or any Game Overlays on my applications.
I tried to tune down the GPU power slider in adrenaline software to -10% and limit the Max clock to 2200mhz. (thinking this might lower the power draw in-case it is my PSU failing? )

Non of these steps fixed my issue.
Today for eg after the win11 install, i was alt-tabbing between Discord, firefox and world of warcraft - Then i had a crash again. and Discord has closed itself. and the Radeon software recovered itself but would not open unless i restarted the PC.
The windows Event Viewer didnt catch that crash somehow.
However i went on and kept looking and found this error (which oddly happened about 50minutes before the crash) :
Faulting application name: atieclxx.exe, version: 31.0.14000.58004, time stamp: 0x638a71ed
Faulting module name: amdsasrv64.dll, version: 1.0.0.0, time stamp: 0x638a7292
Exception code: 0xc0000005
Fault offset: 0x000000000005445b
Faulting process id: 0x0xD70
Faulting application start time: 0x0x1D99622FF5DE7E1
Faulting application path: C:\Windows\System32\DriverStore\FileRepository\u0386350.inf_amd64_cf354da277d39d93\B386336\atieclxx.exe
Faulting module path: C:\Windows\System32\DriverStore\FileRepository\u0386350.inf_amd64_cf354da277d39d93\B386336\amdsasrv64.dll
Report Id: 3648cc2d-2998-4ca2-bd45-2ebcca6f946a
Faulting package full name:
Faulting package-relative application ID:
To say the least- i am super frustrated, i have started the RMA process for both the GPU and the CPU - but i will have to suffer about 200-300$ restocking fee and of course this is going to shut me down for a month or two before i can afford replacement parts.
On top of that - what if im running in circles, looking in the wrong places and it ends up being a PSU issue? i have no idea, i made a post somewhere else and someone in the comments suggested that.
If you read through all of that - youre an angel.
I want this problem gone, feel free to post any suggestion, thank you!

submitted by apyrexia_qc to techsupport [link] [comments]