Madness interactive weapons
For those who destroy aliens with towers
2012.05.02 04:27 Morktorknak For those who destroy aliens with towers
Towermadness is still available as an apk on android
2016.02.04 10:04 The Culling Original Subreddit
The Culling is a brutal Battle-Royale survival game available on Steam. It features intense 16-player arena style combat with a variety of weapons, craftables, costumes, perks, loadouts, game modes, and interactive map effects.
2016.04.28 18:15 AMG_Jackett Rising Storm 2: Vietnam
*Rising Storm 2: Vietnam* is the sequel to PC Gamer’s 2013 *‘Multiplayer Game of the Year’*, developed by the same team that created the award-winning innovative asymmetric gameplay - Antimatter Games - in association with Tripwire Interactive. Rising Storm 2 casts you into a brutal, authentic recreation of the Vietnam War.
2024.06.01 13:19 AidanCreatesStuff Journey of the Chosen One - Entry 4
Hail, dear phantom, I’m glad to see you again. True to my word I went back to the Undead Burg to visit the familiar residents and see if I couldn’t put some of my keys to use. Ultimately, of course, I was after the Bell of Awakening. I believe the Crestfallen Warrior mentioned one being beneath the Undead Burg, so that was what I aimed to uncover.
Instead, I found new threats and an entity that whittled my resilience down to its bare foundation.
My keys brought me to some peculiar locations. I remembered well two locked doors, one in both of the turrets that interrupt the grand wall surrounding the city. In the tower that I passed through to confront the Taurus Demon, is a door that once unlocked brings you further down.
To my surprise, at the bottom of those spiral stone steps, awaited a brute of a warrior. Donned head to toe in armor most robust, wielding a shield that he was able to comfortably hide behind and an even larger club. My initial impression was one of awe, truth be told. He appeared as though he could crush me with his thoughts alone!
As it turned out, it would be his weight and lumber that would work to my advantage. Merely a roll to the side gave me ample opportunity to launch a Soul Arrow his way, something he scarcely had the choice to avoid. So robust was he, however, that I ran out of spell slots before he fell, a very rare feat. Although my Estoc was useless against his impervious armor, some well-placed back stabs put him in the ground for good.
I was fortunate to not suffer a scratch, as I reckon that’s all it would have taken. I pilfered a ring from his corpse, to reveal his name: Havel.
Beyond Havel was a door, one that, to my sheer astonishment, led to the Darkroot Basin. The extent of the Darkroot forest was one I hadn’t anticipated. I thought I had put the verdant murk behind me for a while. And after stepping foot into the green mire and seeing beings composed purely of crystal - I turned the other way. With no spell slots and no bravery, I fled to return another time. Besides, I still had another key I wished to operate.
I decided to unlock the next door and uncover what was beyond before returning to the safety of the Bonfire. I must be growing more audacious. The next door was found just before where the large drake positioned itself, on the second turret.
Before me sprawled another descent, and I found myself in the rotten depths of the Undead Burg before long. Viscous dogs roamed the ruined streets. The path I picked first took me to a door of iron bars that led me back to a familiar spot in the Undead Burg - a location right next to the Bonfire. A very sweet relief.
It was there I readied myself for the dive into the lower Undead Burg. I imagined a sprawling street ripe with rotten ruin. And although that’s what I met, the path was very linear. After I bested an ambush of thieves and roaming dogs, I heard the cries of someone trapped.
I couldn’t believe my luck when I uncovered a fellow sorcerer! Trapped in the depths of that cesspit, of all places. We wore almost the same attire, and he said he would return to Firelink Shrine. Perhaps I was a little too eagre in our greeting, but he would sell me his sorceries all the same when I met him again.
I noticed white light blocking a small arch, and knew something foul stirred within. Before stepping foot through, I wished to uncover the rest of the streets, and my exploration took me to alleys and gutters. After dispatching more thieves, I climbed up another turret that rejoined to the filthy aqueduct that led to Firelink Shrine - just in time to meet my fellow sorcerer once more.
Finally in my wretched journey could I learn more spells. Spells that would serve me extremely well. I purchased the Heavy Soul Arrow and Magic Weapon, to elevate my abilities considerably.
With renewed fervor, I struck down the local ambling Undead with such aggression and power that I shocked myself. None would stand in my way, now, I thought to myself.
I was quickly humbled, dear phantom, when I returned to the lower Undead Burg and traversed through the white light to stand face to face with the abhorrent Capra Demon. Before I had fully stepped out of the white light, its grotesque form was already upon me. If I had moved a split second later, I would have been crushed beneath both its behemoth blades.
Despite my haste, I was not out of danger, for two dogs were quick to rip me to shreds.
Never have I been slain so quickly!
And so I ran again. Up the hill, through the aqueduct, down the spire, through the alley, and up the stairs, only to be greeted by more savage dogs. I was ripped asunder in my careless advance.
Again and again did I make that journey. If I weren’t torn apart by the guarding hounds, then I was swiftly executed by the Capra Demon and its infernal pets. So many times did I make that trip that I was almost driven to madness. Never has wrathful rage stirred so violently in me.
It was those dogs. They were the bane of my attempts to slay the Capra Demon. Too easily they penetrated my cloth garbs; with each bite I couldn’t help but recoil and cry out. Perhaps I was relying on the safety that distance brought me with my sorceries. And so I thought to seek the safety of steel, for once.
As unfamiliar am I with wearing suits of armor, any sort of piece I donned slowed me down dramatically. Nothing more Soul sacrifices to the Bonfire couldn’t remedy, however.
I’ll save you the tale of my time in Darkroot Garden slaying for Souls, although I did notice an unfamiliar sign, written by a fellow phantom. It advised me to strike the tree down in front of it, and to my surprise, the tree soon fell, revealing a long untouched expanse.
In this hidden nook of the solitary garden, resided more of those slumbering stone giants, and a slew of strange amphibian creatures with reptilian features. They fell easy enough, although their long, sharp tongues struck me some times.
At the end of this secluded space was another fortification. I couldn’t believe my luck as I found a discarded Wolf Ring. The moment I slotted it onto my finger I could feel my robustness harden. It was then I had the idea to utilize the ring found on Havel’s body, and I felt my person grow stronger. My punches didn’t hit any harder, but my body could lift things before I sweat to look at.
With these enhancements, I was able to don better armaments and still move as swiftly as I did with my sorcerer garbs.
With the helm of a Bell Gargoyle and the shoddy armor ripped from a hollow, I was ready to face the Capra Demon and its hounds. No bite shall affect me so viscerally, now, thanks to my rings.
I stepped into the white light and immediately rolled past the demon’s lunge. Although the dogs were at my heels in an instant, their clamping maws didn’t cause me to pause. With my Estoc enhanced with magic, I was able to end their miserable existence upon the stairs.
Without his hounds, the Capra Demon wasn’t such a challenge, especially as my Heavy Soul Arrows punctured deep into his ruinous hide. It wasn’t long, then, before it fell, and yet another key came into my clutches.
My victory over the Capra Demon wasn’t nearly as jubilant an occasion as I suspected, although I didn’t kill it for the thrill of the hunt.
With the key in my withered hands, I headed back into the alley and opened the door, to peer into the Depths.
I was wrong to suspect a Bonfire close by, and in exploring the dank depths, I found a quick end at the hands of a swallowing and oozing creature, something I could scarcely see before I found myself back at Firelink Shrine, here to meet you.
I shall tell you more of my adventure into the Depths another time, should you care to listen. I have prattled on long enough, have I not?
Godspeed, good phantom.
submitted by AidanCreatesStuff to darksouls [link] [comments]
Instead, I found new threats and an entity that whittled my resilience down to its bare foundation.
My keys brought me to some peculiar locations. I remembered well two locked doors, one in both of the turrets that interrupt the grand wall surrounding the city. In the tower that I passed through to confront the Taurus Demon, is a door that once unlocked brings you further down.
To my surprise, at the bottom of those spiral stone steps, awaited a brute of a warrior. Donned head to toe in armor most robust, wielding a shield that he was able to comfortably hide behind and an even larger club. My initial impression was one of awe, truth be told. He appeared as though he could crush me with his thoughts alone!
As it turned out, it would be his weight and lumber that would work to my advantage. Merely a roll to the side gave me ample opportunity to launch a Soul Arrow his way, something he scarcely had the choice to avoid. So robust was he, however, that I ran out of spell slots before he fell, a very rare feat. Although my Estoc was useless against his impervious armor, some well-placed back stabs put him in the ground for good.
I was fortunate to not suffer a scratch, as I reckon that’s all it would have taken. I pilfered a ring from his corpse, to reveal his name: Havel.
Beyond Havel was a door, one that, to my sheer astonishment, led to the Darkroot Basin. The extent of the Darkroot forest was one I hadn’t anticipated. I thought I had put the verdant murk behind me for a while. And after stepping foot into the green mire and seeing beings composed purely of crystal - I turned the other way. With no spell slots and no bravery, I fled to return another time. Besides, I still had another key I wished to operate.
I decided to unlock the next door and uncover what was beyond before returning to the safety of the Bonfire. I must be growing more audacious. The next door was found just before where the large drake positioned itself, on the second turret.
Before me sprawled another descent, and I found myself in the rotten depths of the Undead Burg before long. Viscous dogs roamed the ruined streets. The path I picked first took me to a door of iron bars that led me back to a familiar spot in the Undead Burg - a location right next to the Bonfire. A very sweet relief.
It was there I readied myself for the dive into the lower Undead Burg. I imagined a sprawling street ripe with rotten ruin. And although that’s what I met, the path was very linear. After I bested an ambush of thieves and roaming dogs, I heard the cries of someone trapped.
I couldn’t believe my luck when I uncovered a fellow sorcerer! Trapped in the depths of that cesspit, of all places. We wore almost the same attire, and he said he would return to Firelink Shrine. Perhaps I was a little too eagre in our greeting, but he would sell me his sorceries all the same when I met him again.
I noticed white light blocking a small arch, and knew something foul stirred within. Before stepping foot through, I wished to uncover the rest of the streets, and my exploration took me to alleys and gutters. After dispatching more thieves, I climbed up another turret that rejoined to the filthy aqueduct that led to Firelink Shrine - just in time to meet my fellow sorcerer once more.
Finally in my wretched journey could I learn more spells. Spells that would serve me extremely well. I purchased the Heavy Soul Arrow and Magic Weapon, to elevate my abilities considerably.
With renewed fervor, I struck down the local ambling Undead with such aggression and power that I shocked myself. None would stand in my way, now, I thought to myself.
I was quickly humbled, dear phantom, when I returned to the lower Undead Burg and traversed through the white light to stand face to face with the abhorrent Capra Demon. Before I had fully stepped out of the white light, its grotesque form was already upon me. If I had moved a split second later, I would have been crushed beneath both its behemoth blades.
Despite my haste, I was not out of danger, for two dogs were quick to rip me to shreds.
Never have I been slain so quickly!
And so I ran again. Up the hill, through the aqueduct, down the spire, through the alley, and up the stairs, only to be greeted by more savage dogs. I was ripped asunder in my careless advance.
Again and again did I make that journey. If I weren’t torn apart by the guarding hounds, then I was swiftly executed by the Capra Demon and its infernal pets. So many times did I make that trip that I was almost driven to madness. Never has wrathful rage stirred so violently in me.
It was those dogs. They were the bane of my attempts to slay the Capra Demon. Too easily they penetrated my cloth garbs; with each bite I couldn’t help but recoil and cry out. Perhaps I was relying on the safety that distance brought me with my sorceries. And so I thought to seek the safety of steel, for once.
As unfamiliar am I with wearing suits of armor, any sort of piece I donned slowed me down dramatically. Nothing more Soul sacrifices to the Bonfire couldn’t remedy, however.
I’ll save you the tale of my time in Darkroot Garden slaying for Souls, although I did notice an unfamiliar sign, written by a fellow phantom. It advised me to strike the tree down in front of it, and to my surprise, the tree soon fell, revealing a long untouched expanse.
In this hidden nook of the solitary garden, resided more of those slumbering stone giants, and a slew of strange amphibian creatures with reptilian features. They fell easy enough, although their long, sharp tongues struck me some times.
At the end of this secluded space was another fortification. I couldn’t believe my luck as I found a discarded Wolf Ring. The moment I slotted it onto my finger I could feel my robustness harden. It was then I had the idea to utilize the ring found on Havel’s body, and I felt my person grow stronger. My punches didn’t hit any harder, but my body could lift things before I sweat to look at.
With these enhancements, I was able to don better armaments and still move as swiftly as I did with my sorcerer garbs.
With the helm of a Bell Gargoyle and the shoddy armor ripped from a hollow, I was ready to face the Capra Demon and its hounds. No bite shall affect me so viscerally, now, thanks to my rings.
I stepped into the white light and immediately rolled past the demon’s lunge. Although the dogs were at my heels in an instant, their clamping maws didn’t cause me to pause. With my Estoc enhanced with magic, I was able to end their miserable existence upon the stairs.
Without his hounds, the Capra Demon wasn’t such a challenge, especially as my Heavy Soul Arrows punctured deep into his ruinous hide. It wasn’t long, then, before it fell, and yet another key came into my clutches.
My victory over the Capra Demon wasn’t nearly as jubilant an occasion as I suspected, although I didn’t kill it for the thrill of the hunt.
With the key in my withered hands, I headed back into the alley and opened the door, to peer into the Depths.
I was wrong to suspect a Bonfire close by, and in exploring the dank depths, I found a quick end at the hands of a swallowing and oozing creature, something I could scarcely see before I found myself back at Firelink Shrine, here to meet you.
I shall tell you more of my adventure into the Depths another time, should you care to listen. I have prattled on long enough, have I not?
Godspeed, good phantom.
2024.06.01 13:02 Successful-Song-8238 Toxic in-laws, What to do?
I’ve never written a question on this app before but this is eating at me. BUCKLE UP THIS IS LONG!
So my husband’s family have been abusive to him, he is the black sheep of his family he is the youngest and has a different father than his older siblings (8,6 years older).
Ever since I started dating him I was antagonized in some way. When I first met his family for Christmas his middle brother invited his ex-girlfriend to hang out, unbeknownst to my then bf which was awkward but she was fine with me. My boyfriend then was really sick and I took the train 2 hours to pick him up from his home (where his family was with their cars) and take him to a hospital in London. He was there for 6 days not one person visited him but me. They made fun of him and minimized his illness.
Then we moved to my home country the US and eloped. They came to visit a few years later his mom and eldest brother were okay. Middle brother again constantly throwing barbs and digs at me completely unprovoked. I get there may be a culture difference they are White English conservatives, I’m African American. Shortly after we married he dated a black girl, who left bc she was also treated poorly. Some examples of digs; I congratulated him on graduating and asked him when he finished he replied “same time you were supposed to” (I dropped out). Then I asked what the he loved most and what was challenging about being a PT and he replied “no offense, working with fat people.” Took them to multiple meals and covered everything which wasn’t cheap, he complained about the food being “reheated” and bitched when he was ID’d.
Things get progressively worse, middle brother has a precious baby. I want to spoil her and become close with the mother of the child (who is not with him due to his creepy behavior). We form a fast friendship and chat all the time about the baby. My brother in-law tortures this girl denies he is the dad but also goes out of his way to bully her (she’s not breast feeding right, she shouldn’t have pacifiers) all from the comfort of his home. He is also constantly complaining about having to pay $50 a week in child support nonstop saying he is going “bankrupt”. My hubby is part of a group chat and my mother-in-law talks ish about my friend and my hubby is telling me. I ask to see and his brother is actively trying to give his soon to be 1 year old daughter eggs and gluten that his ex told him she was allergic to and they are plotting to do this during her birthday and explicitly NOT tell my friend the mom of his baby. The reasoning was “I’m the father, I deserve to be respected, I can make choices to” but he is extremely sneaky. I show my friend/baby’s mom the messages and all hell breaks loose because of course he lies and gets caught. I would have told him off directly but he blocked me because he was mad at how close I was getting to his ex. I am called a “despicable woman” dragged in their chat, made to seem that I’m spying on my husband and accused of being jealous and sabotaging my niece’s birthday party. My husband says nothing in my defense just goes along like he didn’t send me the photos of their chat…
They don’t know I’m pregnant at this time and I chose not to tell any of my in-laws due to how awful they are. I also don’t believe in telling anyone that would wish ill on me and my baby (bad juju), but my bestie the baby mom knows. I give birth his mom has an absolute tantrum says incredibly awful things to my husband, reaches out to my mom to wish her congratulations on her grandchild and says “i guess I will learn to love him.”
Then my friend the mom gets diagnosed with cancer and wants to keep this secret and makes me promise, she kept my secret pregnancy it is the least I could do. She dies a few months later and my brother in law attacks her for not telling him and claims she is a horrible mother. He takes custody of his daughter.
Fast forward the eldest brother meets this hog woman. She is rotund and English, very ignorant and rude. The first interaction I had she thought she knew so much, decides to bash my dead friend’s parenting, call my dead father in law “weird”, tells me my niece eats everything now due to having a “good parent” and called my apt in NYC “embarrassing” bc it had scaffolding on google maps when she looked me up (like a creep). She then antagonizes me in a variety of slick ways including posting the eldest brother with my niece with the caption “uncle B’s favorite!” On my son’s birthday. Most recently I tell his family that we want to actually have a proper wedding and celebrate after 10 years of marriage, i give them 2 years notice. The hog says “ohhh me and the eldest are planning on getting married then.” I ask why she says “nice weather”. She then proceeds to have a fall wedding (orange, red, greens, pumpkins, barley, wheelbarrows etc.” in May. I try to be the bigger person and send a kind welcome and she leaves me on read.
I hate these people, I need to let this go. My husband says that we should just go on continuing our happy life and not “start problems”. But it feels like so much awfulness to have to swallow. I also feel like if/when I do speak up I’m the hysterical angry black woman and this hog is the “innocent”. The whole thing is so so frustrating but I need to let it go even though I want them to hurt emotionally as much as they have hurt us.
Any recommendations, would you want revenge? There is so much more but I have written a novel already. I feel alone like no one has my back or tries to understand my perspective. They are so sneaky and underhanded. I want to protect my family from these sick people. At the same time I want justice, justice for my husband, for my dead bestie, for me son and for me.
submitted by Successful-Song-8238 to AITAH [link] [comments]
So my husband’s family have been abusive to him, he is the black sheep of his family he is the youngest and has a different father than his older siblings (8,6 years older).
Ever since I started dating him I was antagonized in some way. When I first met his family for Christmas his middle brother invited his ex-girlfriend to hang out, unbeknownst to my then bf which was awkward but she was fine with me. My boyfriend then was really sick and I took the train 2 hours to pick him up from his home (where his family was with their cars) and take him to a hospital in London. He was there for 6 days not one person visited him but me. They made fun of him and minimized his illness.
Then we moved to my home country the US and eloped. They came to visit a few years later his mom and eldest brother were okay. Middle brother again constantly throwing barbs and digs at me completely unprovoked. I get there may be a culture difference they are White English conservatives, I’m African American. Shortly after we married he dated a black girl, who left bc she was also treated poorly. Some examples of digs; I congratulated him on graduating and asked him when he finished he replied “same time you were supposed to” (I dropped out). Then I asked what the he loved most and what was challenging about being a PT and he replied “no offense, working with fat people.” Took them to multiple meals and covered everything which wasn’t cheap, he complained about the food being “reheated” and bitched when he was ID’d.
Things get progressively worse, middle brother has a precious baby. I want to spoil her and become close with the mother of the child (who is not with him due to his creepy behavior). We form a fast friendship and chat all the time about the baby. My brother in-law tortures this girl denies he is the dad but also goes out of his way to bully her (she’s not breast feeding right, she shouldn’t have pacifiers) all from the comfort of his home. He is also constantly complaining about having to pay $50 a week in child support nonstop saying he is going “bankrupt”. My hubby is part of a group chat and my mother-in-law talks ish about my friend and my hubby is telling me. I ask to see and his brother is actively trying to give his soon to be 1 year old daughter eggs and gluten that his ex told him she was allergic to and they are plotting to do this during her birthday and explicitly NOT tell my friend the mom of his baby. The reasoning was “I’m the father, I deserve to be respected, I can make choices to” but he is extremely sneaky. I show my friend/baby’s mom the messages and all hell breaks loose because of course he lies and gets caught. I would have told him off directly but he blocked me because he was mad at how close I was getting to his ex. I am called a “despicable woman” dragged in their chat, made to seem that I’m spying on my husband and accused of being jealous and sabotaging my niece’s birthday party. My husband says nothing in my defense just goes along like he didn’t send me the photos of their chat…
They don’t know I’m pregnant at this time and I chose not to tell any of my in-laws due to how awful they are. I also don’t believe in telling anyone that would wish ill on me and my baby (bad juju), but my bestie the baby mom knows. I give birth his mom has an absolute tantrum says incredibly awful things to my husband, reaches out to my mom to wish her congratulations on her grandchild and says “i guess I will learn to love him.”
Then my friend the mom gets diagnosed with cancer and wants to keep this secret and makes me promise, she kept my secret pregnancy it is the least I could do. She dies a few months later and my brother in law attacks her for not telling him and claims she is a horrible mother. He takes custody of his daughter.
Fast forward the eldest brother meets this hog woman. She is rotund and English, very ignorant and rude. The first interaction I had she thought she knew so much, decides to bash my dead friend’s parenting, call my dead father in law “weird”, tells me my niece eats everything now due to having a “good parent” and called my apt in NYC “embarrassing” bc it had scaffolding on google maps when she looked me up (like a creep). She then antagonizes me in a variety of slick ways including posting the eldest brother with my niece with the caption “uncle B’s favorite!” On my son’s birthday. Most recently I tell his family that we want to actually have a proper wedding and celebrate after 10 years of marriage, i give them 2 years notice. The hog says “ohhh me and the eldest are planning on getting married then.” I ask why she says “nice weather”. She then proceeds to have a fall wedding (orange, red, greens, pumpkins, barley, wheelbarrows etc.” in May. I try to be the bigger person and send a kind welcome and she leaves me on read.
I hate these people, I need to let this go. My husband says that we should just go on continuing our happy life and not “start problems”. But it feels like so much awfulness to have to swallow. I also feel like if/when I do speak up I’m the hysterical angry black woman and this hog is the “innocent”. The whole thing is so so frustrating but I need to let it go even though I want them to hurt emotionally as much as they have hurt us.
Any recommendations, would you want revenge? There is so much more but I have written a novel already. I feel alone like no one has my back or tries to understand my perspective. They are so sneaky and underhanded. I want to protect my family from these sick people. At the same time I want justice, justice for my husband, for my dead bestie, for me son and for me.
2024.06.01 12:17 gingerassair Controller Binds
For my fellow controller players out there, how do you handle the limited options when it comes to our binds? I find that the "reload and pick up object" bind to be infuriating whenever I'm in front of something I can pick up, namely barricade. You place one and are unable to put it away without looking away unless you change your primary weapon bind. This problem only got worse when earlier this week we had our primary weapon bind removed accidentally.
I'm currently using the directional equipping preset with my interact on a different button than primary weapon, but I had to sacrifice my communication wheel bind leaving me unable to join the squad in hypes after a successful cash out and most importantly not being able to emote on the guy who t-bagged me. I would love it if we were able to bind two inputs to one action, such as rb + lb or whatever the PlayStation equivalent is, or even just control whether something should be a hold or a double tap.
I'd love to hear what you guys have done to address the issue in your own gameplay as well as any ideas for what could be done by embark. And thanks for coming to my TED talk lol.
submitted by gingerassair to thefinals [link] [comments]
I'm currently using the directional equipping preset with my interact on a different button than primary weapon, but I had to sacrifice my communication wheel bind leaving me unable to join the squad in hypes after a successful cash out and most importantly not being able to emote on the guy who t-bagged me. I would love it if we were able to bind two inputs to one action, such as rb + lb or whatever the PlayStation equivalent is, or even just control whether something should be a hold or a double tap.
I'd love to hear what you guys have done to address the issue in your own gameplay as well as any ideas for what could be done by embark. And thanks for coming to my TED talk lol.
2024.06.01 12:05 metamagic-bot Pauper Meta Update for 3/23-6/1/24
There were 320 "Kuldotha Red" decks:
submitted by metamagic-bot to metamagic [link] [comments]
4 Chain Lightning (online)There were 262 "Boros Synthesizer" decks:
4 Experimental Synthesizer (online)
4 Galvanic Blast (online)
4 Goblin Blast-Runner (online)
4 Goblin Bushwhacker (online)
4 Goblin Tomb Raider (online)
4 Great Furnace (online)
4 Implement of Combustion (online)
4 Kuldotha Rebirth (online)
4 Lightning Bolt (online)
13 Mountain (online)
3 Reckless Lackey (online)
4 Voldaren Epicure (online)
4 All That Glitters (online)There were 168 "Dimir Control" decks:
4 Ancient Den (online)
1 Barbed Batterfist (online)
1 Boros Garrison (online)
4 Experimental Synthesizer (online)
4 Galvanic Blast (online)
4 Glint Hawk (online)
4 Great Furnace (online)
4 Kor Skyfisher (online)
4 Lembas (online)
4 Lightning Bolt (online)
1 Makeshift Munitions (online)
2 Mountain (online)
4 Novice Inspector (online)
3 Plains (online)
4 Rustvale Bridge (online)
4 Thraben Inspector (online)
2 Wedding Invitation (online)
2 Wind-Scarred Crag (online)
1 Agony Warp (online)There were 156 "Golgari Garden" decks:
1 Arms of Hadar (online)
4 Augur of Bolas (online)
1 Bojuka Bog (online)
3 Brainstorm (online)
2 Cast Down (online)
4 Contaminated Aquifer (online)
4 Counterspell (online)
1 Dimir Aqueduct (online)
1 Extract a Confession (online)
3 Faerie Seer (online)
1 Gurmag Angler (online)
10 Island (online)
4 Lorien Revealed (online)
1 Maestros Theater (online)
1 Murmuring Mystic (online)
3 Ninja of the Deep Hours (online)
3 Preordain (online)
4 Snuff Out (online)
4 Spellstutter Sprite (online)
1 Suffocating Fumes (online)
1 Swamp (online)
2 Thorn of the Black Rose (online)
2 Avenging Hunter (online)There were 151 "Gates" decks:
1 Blood Fountain (online)
1 Bojuka Bog (online)
4 Cast Down (online)
3 Crypt Rats (online)
4 Deadly Dispute (online)
3 Defile (online)
1 Drown in Sorrow (online)
3 Fanatical Offering (online)
1 Golgari Rot Farm (online)
1 Haunted Mire (online)
3 Ichor Wellspring (online)
4 Khalni Garden (online)
3 Lembas (online)
2 Reckoner's Bargain (online)
2 Snuff Out (online)
2 Spinning Darkness (online)
10 Swamp (online)
2 Thorn of the Black Rose (online)
4 Tithing Blade (online)
3 Troll of Khazad-dum (online)
1 Witch's Cottage (online)
3 Azorius Guildgate (online)There were 139 "Jeskai Ephemerate" decks:
4 Basilisk Gate (online)
4 Brainstorm (online)
4 Citadel Gate (online)
4 Counterspell (online)
2 Dawnbringer Cleric (online)
1 Dispel (online)
2 Guardian of the Guildpact (online)
2 Heap Gate (online)
1 Idyllic Beachfront (online)
3 Island (online)
3 Journey to Nowhere (online)
3 Lorien Revealed (online)
4 Preordain (online)
4 Prismatic Strands (online)
4 Sacred Cat (online)
4 Sea Gate (online)
4 Squadron Hawk (online)
4 The Modern Age (online)
2 Archaeomancer (online)There were 106 "Rakdos Madness Burn" decks:
4 Augur of Bolas (online)
3 Brainstorm (online)
2 Breath Weapon (online)
4 Cleansing Wildfire (online)
4 Counterspell (online)
1 Destroy Evil (online)
2 Ephemerate (online)
1 Glacial Floodplain (online)
1 Kenku Artificer (online)
1 Late to Dinner (online)
2 Lightning Bolt (online)
4 Lorien Revealed (online)
3 Mulldrifter (online)
1 Murmuring Mystic (online)
2 Preordain (online)
4 Rustvale Bridge (online)
4 Silverbluff Bridge (online)
3 Skred (online)
7 Snow-Covered Island (online)
2 Snow-Covered Mountain (online)
1 Snow-Covered Plains (online)
1 Union of the Third Path (online)
1 Volatile Fjord (online)
4 Alms of the Vein (online)
2 Deadly Dispute (online)
4 Drossforge Bridge (online)
4 Faithless Looting (online)
4 Fiery Temper (online)
4 Galvanic Blast (online)
4 Goblin Tomb Raider (online)
4 Great Furnace (online)
3 Jagged Barrens (online)
4 Kitchen Imp (online)
4 Lightning Bolt (online)
3 Mountain (online)
2 Rakdos Carnarium (online)
2 Scrapwork Mutt (online)
4 Vampire's Kiss (online)
4 Vault of Whispers (online)
4 Voldaren Epicure (online)
2024.06.01 11:58 Kaslight What's actually going on in FF7R (The Whispers [Probably] Got You)
EXTENSIVE Rebirth, Remake, and OG FF7 spoilers in here.
This is a continuation of What's Actually Going On in FF7R (The White Materia) where I attempt to make sense of everything the Remake continuity added to the OG FF7 story. It really is best if you read the other thread first, just because this will be easier if i've already explained my theory on the White Materia and it's associated spell, Holy.
Another disclaimer : This is, still, just a theory, aGameTheory. Don't hate me (or square?) in the event it's completely wrong, which it has a decent chance of being.
So getting right to it. TLDR;
The Whispers are exactly what they were said to be -- they protect fate by rejecting any changes to the Lifestream. The misdirection here is how YOU have been goaded into misinterpreting this information.
The White and Black Materia can fully explain their existence and purpose. And it has absolutely NOTHING to do with the OG FF7.
Let's start with what we learned from the previous thread about the White Materia:
As we know, the Lifestream is everything, everywhere, and every time. All life comes from the lifestream, and when something dies, it returns there. And its memories stay there forever, as physical places within the lifestream.
This is something Tifa observed for herself in Rebirth. In her brief time floating with the WEAPON, she was reunited with her very own memories...in a very literal fashion.
Tifa, inside the Lifestream in the middle of the Gongaga Reactor
This is the Mako pool in the Lifestream underneath Gongaga. We literally watched Tifa fall in, and physically swim to this location........so why is Tifa's house here? Along with...the Nibelheim Mountians?
A Fragmented Nibelheim, including Mt Nibel and the Bridge that Tifa and Cloud almost died on in the past.
Tifa's memories are not only being played out here....they are physically real. This is because she's inside the Lifestream. She hasn't gone anywhere, she's still in Gongaga, but look at the extent to which this pool of Mako is able to interact with one person's memories.
And also....wait a second.
This space beneath the reactor is filled with White and Black Whispers.
...I thought we killed all the whispers? What are they doing here?
We'll come back to this later.
Lets back up a bit.
The "OG Storyline" has never existed in Remake. It's not a thing. And the Whispers have nothing to do with it.
\"Oh, the Whispers came because Reno doesn't die in the original game\" -- You, probably
This is the typical, widely accepted "Meta Commentary" explanation of the Whispers.
But it's wrong.
No, not just because this theory says so. This interpretation was ALWAYS wrong.
So the whispers are canon police, but are just gonna IGNORE stuff like this?
FF7R's storyline is self-contained. If the whispers existed to "protect the old events", then why is even Remake chocked full of shit that never happened in the OG and would actively change the story if it did?
But don't be confused -- the writers ABSOLUTELY wanted you to think this way. It's what bothered me about Remake's ending. But they were actually clever about it, and Rebirth vindicates this decision.
"Changing the Future", "Defying Fate", and "The Future is Unwritten" has nothing to do the OG FF7.
Okay good we got this out of the way, I can stop talking about Meta Analysis and get to the actual good stuff.
They protect fate -- the Lifestream. From Aerith, and Jenova.
The Lifestream IS Fate.
This is very consistent, even in Pt1. The Whispers in Remake ONLY appear when someone is either:
After I show you this, please go back and watch videos of all these sorts of events in Remake. You will see exactly what I mean.
Okay, buckle up kids!
Aerith is attacked by an invisible force.
Aerith is being attacked by Whispers. This is because she possesses the White Materia, and has constant access to knowledge she isn't supposed to have. They are taking it from her.
Thing to note here. Cloud cannot see the whispers. This is because he is not violating any of the 3 rules.
Sephiroth makes an appearance here.
The appearance of the \"Mental Static\" used in both Remake and Rebirth
This is a Red Herring...in fact, this is THREE brilliantly placed Red Herrings. Because the "Memory Static" that appears here belongs to both Cloud AND Aerith, and serves to confuse you on what it actually means.
It SEEMS unnatural that Sephiroth is appearing here, this early in the game. But it isn't unnatural -- Cloud is plagued by these visions all the time in this continuity. This is why the game gave us a Sephiroth appearance immediately after the Bombing Mission.
Now. Notice how, despite being attacked by invisible whispers, Aerith mostly seems unbothered by this.
...Almost as if she's used to it. Similar to the way Cloud is equally used to visions of Sephiroth. They BOTH carry on with the conversation as though NOTHING has happened.
The game is explicitly showing you that both of these occurrences are seen as normal for these characters. Suggesting that they have actually been dealing with them for much longer than you would think.
Aerith has another Whisper attack. Cloud is once again very confused, until this happens:
Cloud's violation of #1 through contact with Aerith
Aerith touches Cloud.
We learn later that Aerith touching you gives you knowledge you're not supposed to have. Thus, Cloud is now in violation of Rule #1 -- Forbidden Knowledge. He can now observe whispers for the rest of the story.
The White Materia is explicitly the cause of the Whisper Attack in the church, and the game goes out of its way to make it very obvious.
Cloud Memory Static, this time it's Holy, not Jenova. (I don't have enough attachments to spell this out, so please go look at the scene after you read this.)
This is another VERY good example of Remake fucking with your head.
Regardless, the whispers did not intervene here, despite Cloud obviously glimpsing forbidden knowledge.
So why DID they intervene?
\"...Huh?\" - Cloud
Because Aerith couldn't keep her mouth shut.
\"What Class are you?\"
Reno doubts Cloud's Identity as a First Class Ex-Soldier. And Cloud violently reacts to protect it.
The whispers stopped Cloud from killing Reno, NOT because Reno survives in the OG game...but because Reno's life wouldn't even be at risk here if Aerith didn't instigate this fight.
And just like the Flower scene, Remake actually sets this one up with prior character information too. -- Cloud was shown from the beginning of the game to be prone to extreme violence. He would have also executed Johnny without Tifa's intervention. So we KNOW he would have killed Reno if the Whispers didn't intervene.
Hopefully you're beginning to see a pattern here.
Here is the most obvious example of this rule triggering the Whispers.
Aerith attempting to stop Barret from doing something....
In this scene, we see Aerith clearly knows something she isn't supposed to. She wants to share with Barret that killing the President isn't a good idea...And the whispers immediately appear, threatening her to stop. By this point, Aerith is beginning to become aware of why the whispers are harassing her so much.
I covered this scene in my last post, so I wont again...but this scene is crucial towards understanding what's happening in this game. Everyone should watch this scene again. Pay attention to what happens to Aerith the moment she says "Follow the Yellow Flowers". Aerith is clearly not herself as she says this. It's almost as if someone possessed her to say it. And the Whispers absolutely swarm her as a result.
There are many cases in Remake where the Whispers do something that seems...odd, given their explanations as arbiters of fate. Like attacking Sector 7, silencing Hojo, or literally helping Sephiroth at the end of the game. This is because although it's clearly whispers doing it...in Remake there is no visual indication of which Will any given Whispers serve -- The Planet, or Jenova's.
They all LOOK the same.
But they absolutely ARE NOT the same -- they are separate (black and white), just like in Rebirth.
But Remake included subtle clues as a nod to this reveal in Rebirth.
The Whisper Attack on Sector 7
This is another situation where you're expected to believe that the whispers are causing a ruckus because Cloud isn't going on the second bombing mission with Avalanche. Which is something we know he does in the OG game.
But that's just because we likely misinterpreted the clues that lead up to this moment that explain exactly why this is happening : The white whispers are attempting to correct the deliberate isolation of the main party by the black whispers.
A whisper is seen lurking around in Sector 7 the day before this happens. It's extremely easy to miss.
A whisper was present in Seventh Heaven. This was shown immediately after Barret told Cloud he wasn't on the next mission and has to leave.
See...if you're comparing Remake to the OG, then this whisper shown here is 100% going to force you to misinterpret what it's doing here.
In Seventh Heaven, multiple things happen that result in a break up of the entire main party.
A whisper with Sephiroth's voice trying to keep Cloud sleep
A Whisper with Sephiroth's voice approaches Cloud in the morning. He wants him to sleep through Barret, Jesse, and Biggs going on the mission. This would have likely isolated Barret, resulting in his death. Something Jenova tries again towards the end of the game.
She really does not want Barret to stay alive, because he is the glue of Avalanche, and the main reason the events of the story begin the way they do. Cloud also likely never would have met Aerith in the church.
Jenova's whispers are trying to prevent Cloud, Tifa, Aerith, and Barret from getting together. This event would have succeeded in separating all of them.
That's why the whispers are at war with one another.
The Black ones are trying to isolate you. The white ones are correcting their meddling.
The game even STOPS you mid-combat to bring attention to the fact that the Black Whispers are being exposed.
Black Whisper being made vulnerable by something external
And of course....there's most obvious example of this kind of massive violation from Remake....The Infamous Chapter 18.
But that's gonna have to wait for another post.
I'm out of attachments again.
In Rebirth, the White Materia is empty. She no longer has knowledge of what's "supposed to happen", and thus has to accept that whatever happens, happens. This is why the "The Journey is Unknown." Not because the party killed the whispers, therefore the writers can do whatever they want. But because Aerith hid her knowledge of the future (Holy) from herself. She used to be able to know what was going to happen. Now she can't. The real Meta thing is that FF7R only really starts to make sense when you willingly abandon what you thought you already knew about the story. Those who look with clouded eyes see nothing but shadows.
Now go back through Remake with the new perspective and tell me that everything doesn't make way more sense.
Also, please tell me im crazy so I can stop writing these.
Otherwise, stay tuned for pt3 -- The Black Materia.
....Oh. One final hilarious mindblowing. Remember this?
But only for the player.
Cloud still can't tell the difference.
submitted by Kaslight to FFVIIRemake [link] [comments]
This is a continuation of What's Actually Going On in FF7R (The White Materia) where I attempt to make sense of everything the Remake continuity added to the OG FF7 story. It really is best if you read the other thread first, just because this will be easier if i've already explained my theory on the White Materia and it's associated spell, Holy.
Another disclaimer : This is, still, just a theory, aGameTheory. Don't hate me (or square?) in the event it's completely wrong, which it has a decent chance of being.
There are only 2 things about FF7's Story that have fundamentally changed in Remake.But what I want to discuss this time is (what I personally think, as of Rebirth) is one brilliant misdirection from Square Enix...in hindsight, anyway.
The White and Black Materia. Or more specifically, the Magic granted by them.
The Whispers
Oh no"....What the hell was Square thinking?" -- You, probably, watching the ending to Rebirth and/or RemakeWell, they were thinking exactly what you were thinking. And they used it against you.
So getting right to it. TLDR;
The Whispers are exactly what they were said to be -- they protect fate by rejecting any changes to the Lifestream. The misdirection here is how YOU have been goaded into misinterpreting this information.
The White and Black Materia can fully explain their existence and purpose. And it has absolutely NOTHING to do with the OG FF7.
Let's start with what we learned from the previous thread about the White Materia:
So what does the White Materia ACTUALLY do in FF7R?Materia are orbs containing knowledge of the ancients. In effect, they contain information from the lifestream itself. The White Materia's magic (Holy) is special though. The magic it contains seems to allow the user to traverse the lifestream itself. This means, in effect, the ability to interact with (and take knowledge from) the actual memories of the Lifestream.
The White Materia (Holy) gives the user access to the Lifestream. Not just a piece of its knowledge, like regular materia....but the actual lifestream itself. In doing so, they gain knowledge, like all Materia allows them to do. Knowledge of the past, the future, and everything else in flux.
But this is NOT knowledge that you're not supposed to be able to actually do anything with, **because unlike casting Fire or Lightning....**knowing the future allows you to change fate.
As we know, the Lifestream is everything, everywhere, and every time. All life comes from the lifestream, and when something dies, it returns there. And its memories stay there forever, as physical places within the lifestream.
This is something Tifa observed for herself in Rebirth. In her brief time floating with the WEAPON, she was reunited with her very own memories...in a very literal fashion.
Tifa, inside the Lifestream in the middle of the Gongaga Reactor
This is the Mako pool in the Lifestream underneath Gongaga. We literally watched Tifa fall in, and physically swim to this location........so why is Tifa's house here? Along with...the Nibelheim Mountians?
A Fragmented Nibelheim, including Mt Nibel and the Bridge that Tifa and Cloud almost died on in the past.
Tifa's memories are not only being played out here....they are physically real. This is because she's inside the Lifestream. She hasn't gone anywhere, she's still in Gongaga, but look at the extent to which this pool of Mako is able to interact with one person's memories.
And also....wait a second.
This space beneath the reactor is filled with White and Black Whispers.
...I thought we killed all the whispers? What are they doing here?
We'll come back to this later.
Lets back up a bit.
Why you [probably] hated the Whispers.
Hear me out.The "OG Storyline" has never existed in Remake. It's not a thing. And the Whispers have nothing to do with it.
\"Oh, the Whispers came because Reno doesn't die in the original game\" -- You, probably
"The whispers were put into the game as a meta commentary on how the developers just want to create their own story, but the fans won't let us, so the party fucking KILLS FATE so that Nomura or Nojima or whomever is most annoying can write whatever they want." -- The Internet. Also you. Probably.Everyone thinks the Whispers only existed in Remake in order to ensure that the story never deviates from the OG FF7 Storyline. Every time something important is about to happen that didn't happen in the original game, the whispers intervene and correct the timeline.
This is the typical, widely accepted "Meta Commentary" explanation of the Whispers.
But it's wrong.
No, not just because this theory says so. This interpretation was ALWAYS wrong.
So the whispers are canon police, but are just gonna IGNORE stuff like this?
FF7R's storyline is self-contained. If the whispers existed to "protect the old events", then why is even Remake chocked full of shit that never happened in the OG and would actively change the story if it did?
But don't be confused -- the writers ABSOLUTELY wanted you to think this way. It's what bothered me about Remake's ending. But they were actually clever about it, and Rebirth vindicates this decision.
"Changing the Future", "Defying Fate", and "The Future is Unwritten" has nothing to do the OG FF7.
Okay good we got this out of the way, I can stop talking about Meta Analysis and get to the actual good stuff.
What the whispers were ACTUALLY doing
Remake explained what the Whispers are verbatim.They protect fate -- the Lifestream. From Aerith, and Jenova.
The Lifestream IS Fate.
Red -"Perhaps best described as arbiters of fate. They are drawn to those who attempt to alter destiny's course and ensure they do not."Barret then speaks about possible bad fates. And Red XIII says this:
Tifa - "And you're saying that flow is somehow...fixed?
Red - "Yes. For it is the will of the planet itself."
Barret - "So if we're destined for a bleak future, these Whispers will try to keep us on that course?""....Now wait just a damn minute. How in the hell could you possibly know any of that? Spouting that cryptic stuff -- which could all be bullshit!"
Red - "When Aerith reached out to me...I found this knowledge of the Whispers."In the previous thread, we explained how Aerith has been messing with the Lifestream by mistakenly using the White Materia to obtain information she has no business knowing. The Whispers are simply reacting to her blatant misuse of this, and act to correct it.
This is very consistent, even in Pt1. The Whispers in Remake ONLY appear when someone is either:
- Using forbidden knowledge from the Lifestream
- Manipulating events by sharing forbidden knowledge from the lifestream
- When something foreign attempts to force its will on the lifestream
After I show you this, please go back and watch videos of all these sorts of events in Remake. You will see exactly what I mean.
Okay, buckle up kids!
Violation #1 Using forbidden knowledge from the Lifestream
Watching the first appearance of Aerith in Remake gives us full clarity of what's actually happening.Aerith is attacked by an invisible force.
Aerith is being attacked by Whispers. This is because she possesses the White Materia, and has constant access to knowledge she isn't supposed to have. They are taking it from her.
Thing to note here. Cloud cannot see the whispers. This is because he is not violating any of the 3 rules.
Sephiroth makes an appearance here.
The appearance of the \"Mental Static\" used in both Remake and Rebirth
This is a Red Herring...in fact, this is THREE brilliantly placed Red Herrings. Because the "Memory Static" that appears here belongs to both Cloud AND Aerith, and serves to confuse you on what it actually means.
- Aerith sees Cloud, and immediately gains knowledge about them both that she is not supposed to know. Also, if you pay attention, Aerith is NOT frozen during this sequence. This is her scene just as much as it is Cloud's.
- Cloud has yet another vision of Sephiroth, caused by his Jenova cells. This is a huge misdirection, to eventually make you think Sephiroth is popping up in places he "shouldn't be."
- This is where Remake starts to fuck with your head. They're using the same memory effect for two different characters, for two different reasons. But the result is essentially the same -- the characters involved are having their perception altered. Remake does NOT distinguish between static caused by Holy or static caused by Jenova. They are treated equally in Remake.
It SEEMS unnatural that Sephiroth is appearing here, this early in the game. But it isn't unnatural -- Cloud is plagued by these visions all the time in this continuity. This is why the game gave us a Sephiroth appearance immediately after the Bombing Mission.
Now. Notice how, despite being attacked by invisible whispers, Aerith mostly seems unbothered by this.
...Almost as if she's used to it. Similar to the way Cloud is equally used to visions of Sephiroth. They BOTH carry on with the conversation as though NOTHING has happened.
The game is explicitly showing you that both of these occurrences are seen as normal for these characters. Suggesting that they have actually been dealing with them for much longer than you would think.
Aerith has another Whisper attack. Cloud is once again very confused, until this happens:
Cloud's violation of #1 through contact with Aerith
Aerith touches Cloud.
We learn later that Aerith touching you gives you knowledge you're not supposed to have. Thus, Cloud is now in violation of Rule #1 -- Forbidden Knowledge. He can now observe whispers for the rest of the story.
Violation #2 Manipulating events by sharing forbidden knowledge from the lifestream
The Church Scene is a great example of this. In fact, most of the moments in Rebirth involve Aerith doing this to some degree.The White Materia is explicitly the cause of the Whisper Attack in the church, and the game goes out of its way to make it very obvious.
Cloud Memory Static, this time it's Holy, not Jenova. (I don't have enough attachments to spell this out, so please go look at the scene after you read this.)
This is another VERY good example of Remake fucking with your head.
- Aerith brings up her White Materia in conversation
- Cloud looks at the back of Aerith's head. He has a memory static attack, and then immediately has a vision of the White Materia.
- Cloud ignores this phenoemon, because things fucking with his head is completely normal to him. He doesn't skip a beat, and suggests Aerith just doesn't know how to use it.
- Aerith playfully agrees.
Regardless, the whispers did not intervene here, despite Cloud obviously glimpsing forbidden knowledge.
So why DID they intervene?
\"...Huh?\" - Cloud
Because Aerith couldn't keep her mouth shut.
- She tells Reno that Cloud is her bodyguard. He isn't. Reno is.
- She exposed that he was a Soldier. Reno explicitly does not like Soldiers.
- She already knew that Cloud was doing mercenary work, and used this to persuade him.
*Sizes Cloud up*"Well, you're weird enough to be one."
\"What Class are you?\"
Reno doubts Cloud's Identity as a First Class Ex-Soldier. And Cloud violently reacts to protect it.
The whispers stopped Cloud from killing Reno, NOT because Reno survives in the OG game...but because Reno's life wouldn't even be at risk here if Aerith didn't instigate this fight.
And just like the Flower scene, Remake actually sets this one up with prior character information too. -- Cloud was shown from the beginning of the game to be prone to extreme violence. He would have also executed Johnny without Tifa's intervention. So we KNOW he would have killed Reno if the Whispers didn't intervene.
Hopefully you're beginning to see a pattern here.
Here is the most obvious example of this rule triggering the Whispers.
Aerith attempting to stop Barret from doing something....
In this scene, we see Aerith clearly knows something she isn't supposed to. She wants to share with Barret that killing the President isn't a good idea...And the whispers immediately appear, threatening her to stop. By this point, Aerith is beginning to become aware of why the whispers are harassing her so much.
I covered this scene in my last post, so I wont again...but this scene is crucial towards understanding what's happening in this game. Everyone should watch this scene again. Pay attention to what happens to Aerith the moment she says "Follow the Yellow Flowers". Aerith is clearly not herself as she says this. It's almost as if someone possessed her to say it. And the Whispers absolutely swarm her as a result.
Violation #3 -- When something foreign attempts to force its will on the lifestream
And here we go. The one that caused like 90% of the confusion in Remake. To be fair, this could only really be understood in hindsight after playing Rebirth.There are many cases in Remake where the Whispers do something that seems...odd, given their explanations as arbiters of fate. Like attacking Sector 7, silencing Hojo, or literally helping Sephiroth at the end of the game. This is because although it's clearly whispers doing it...in Remake there is no visual indication of which Will any given Whispers serve -- The Planet, or Jenova's.
They all LOOK the same.
But they absolutely ARE NOT the same -- they are separate (black and white), just like in Rebirth.
But Remake included subtle clues as a nod to this reveal in Rebirth.
The Whisper Attack on Sector 7
This is another situation where you're expected to believe that the whispers are causing a ruckus because Cloud isn't going on the second bombing mission with Avalanche. Which is something we know he does in the OG game.
But that's just because we likely misinterpreted the clues that lead up to this moment that explain exactly why this is happening : The white whispers are attempting to correct the deliberate isolation of the main party by the black whispers.
A whisper is seen lurking around in Sector 7 the day before this happens. It's extremely easy to miss.
A whisper was present in Seventh Heaven. This was shown immediately after Barret told Cloud he wasn't on the next mission and has to leave.
See...if you're comparing Remake to the OG, then this whisper shown here is 100% going to force you to misinterpret what it's doing here.
In Seventh Heaven, multiple things happen that result in a break up of the entire main party.
- Tifa is feeling anxious about the next mission. Jesse goes out of her way to voice concerns about her involvement, leading to her getting kicked off the team for the mission.
- Jesse then tries to aim to get Cloud placed on the team instead. Barret refuses to do this because he "doesn't want the team leaning on him."
- Barret pays Cloud, tells him he isn't wanted on the next mission, and kicks him out the bar.
- A whisper will literally stop you from entering Seventh Heaven again after this happens to make sure you can't fix it.
A whisper with Sephiroth's voice trying to keep Cloud sleep
A Whisper with Sephiroth's voice approaches Cloud in the morning. He wants him to sleep through Barret, Jesse, and Biggs going on the mission. This would have likely isolated Barret, resulting in his death. Something Jenova tries again towards the end of the game.
She really does not want Barret to stay alive, because he is the glue of Avalanche, and the main reason the events of the story begin the way they do. Cloud also likely never would have met Aerith in the church.
Jenova's whispers are trying to prevent Cloud, Tifa, Aerith, and Barret from getting together. This event would have succeeded in separating all of them.
That's why the whispers are at war with one another.
The Black ones are trying to isolate you. The white ones are correcting their meddling.
The game even STOPS you mid-combat to bring attention to the fact that the Black Whispers are being exposed.
Black Whisper being made vulnerable by something external
- You don't have to do anything to these whispers for this to happen.
- The entire screen gains a Static Memory effect....as though Cloud is being shown the truth. He even comments on it.
- After they go vulnerable, they become Black/Purple until they die.
And of course....there's most obvious example of this kind of massive violation from Remake....The Infamous Chapter 18.
But that's gonna have to wait for another post.
I'm out of attachments again.
TL;DR : FF7R is messing with your head.
Aerith using the White Materia in Remake is literally going through the events of the story the exact same way the player did -- with "forbidden knowledge" about how things are "supposed to be".In Rebirth, the White Materia is empty. She no longer has knowledge of what's "supposed to happen", and thus has to accept that whatever happens, happens. This is why the "The Journey is Unknown." Not because the party killed the whispers, therefore the writers can do whatever they want. But because Aerith hid her knowledge of the future (Holy) from herself. She used to be able to know what was going to happen. Now she can't. The real Meta thing is that FF7R only really starts to make sense when you willingly abandon what you thought you already knew about the story. Those who look with clouded eyes see nothing but shadows.
Now go back through Remake with the new perspective and tell me that everything doesn't make way more sense.
Also, please tell me im crazy so I can stop writing these.
Otherwise, stay tuned for pt3 -- The Black Materia.
....Oh. One final hilarious mindblowing. Remember this?
This is where Remake starts to fuck with your head. They're using the same memory effect for two different characters, for two different reasons. But the result is essentially the same -- the characters involved are having their perception altered.Rebirth DOES distinguish the visual effects of memory alteration.
Remake does NOT distinguish between static caused by Holy or static caused by Jenova. They are treated equally in Remake.
But only for the player.
Cloud still can't tell the difference.
2024.06.01 11:31 NewMetaMessiah I wish ethereal weapon had more synergies with champions
Seems like Gragas is one of the only champions ethereal weapon has any unique interactions with the base kit with W being able to proc on spells. Of course there are champs like Fizz that can proc W with E and R now but Fizz already has Q to proc W.
I was hoping that champs like Ziggs can proc their passive with spells or Yorick gets to proc his Q with E or R but so far none of them work as they're not coded on on-hit even though Gragas W for some reason is on-hit.
So far I've found Renata with enough AP to be somewhat fun with ethereal weapon as you can proc your % max hp damage without autoing but I haven't found anything else. I guess Sona can skip auto-attacking if she wants to build AP to nuke with Q?
submitted by NewMetaMessiah to LeagueArena [link] [comments]
I was hoping that champs like Ziggs can proc their passive with spells or Yorick gets to proc his Q with E or R but so far none of them work as they're not coded on on-hit even though Gragas W for some reason is on-hit.
So far I've found Renata with enough AP to be somewhat fun with ethereal weapon as you can proc your % max hp damage without autoing but I haven't found anything else. I guess Sona can skip auto-attacking if she wants to build AP to nuke with Q?
2024.06.01 11:17 jussygussy Weapon X-Men was lame
I just read Weapon X-Men and what a let down, I liked all the character interactions between all the Logans, and I really liked the art and character designs, but I feel like the threat and the reality hoping was just so bland... I'll probably only ever read this one again for Zombie Wolvie, what a fella lol
submitted by jussygussy to comicbooks [link] [comments]
2024.06.01 11:16 AutomaticTale6974 People showing me affection makes me so uncomfortable..
To start off I am a girl in my early 20s. I am not sure when I stopped being affectionate or when it started to make me uncomfortable. I don't believe I have ever told my parents I loved them nonetheless remember the last time I hugged my Dad. The last time my mom and I hugged was 2 years ago when she was going to her surgery. My mom hugged my siblings told them she loved them then was on her way out the door when she looked back starred at me and I could tell she was pondering about something and she made up her mind walked over to me in bed and hugged me. I remember wanting affection from my mom years prior to this event but in that moment I just wanted her to leave. I do love my parents I just physically can't be affectionate with them. This makes me feel so much shame. My dad is a different story. Same with the rest of my family on my mom side (not close to dad's side). My uncle who is my father figure ( more of a dad than my actual) shows me affection every time he sees me. I am like a trophy to him he shows me so much love way too much. The amount of love he shows me makes up for the lack of affection from my parents. But I get so uncomfortable I am not sure when this happened. I get so mad at myself for not letting myself feel love.
Everyone in my family hugs and says “love you” and it makes me so uncomfortable. I do love everyone but I just physically can't. I feel like dying when I get close to doing anything affectionate. I have to keep myself busy if I were to do anything affectionate because if not I will only think about that interaction and get so uncomfortable and embarrassed for showing love.
And yes I can't even show affection with my friends and they respect that. But seeing how girls relationships are hugging, head on shoulders, holding hands etc. makes me sad sometimes yk. I know that this is an easy fix for me to just get out of my comfort zone but I have gone so long so affectionless I don't think I can. I do show so much affection and love to my cat. 😅 but that's it
submitted by AutomaticTale6974 to u/AutomaticTale6974 [link] [comments]
Everyone in my family hugs and says “love you” and it makes me so uncomfortable. I do love everyone but I just physically can't. I feel like dying when I get close to doing anything affectionate. I have to keep myself busy if I were to do anything affectionate because if not I will only think about that interaction and get so uncomfortable and embarrassed for showing love.
And yes I can't even show affection with my friends and they respect that. But seeing how girls relationships are hugging, head on shoulders, holding hands etc. makes me sad sometimes yk. I know that this is an easy fix for me to just get out of my comfort zone but I have gone so long so affectionless I don't think I can. I do show so much affection and love to my cat. 😅 but that's it
2024.06.01 11:14 Known-Revolution-488 As I Depart
Many rush to take my place😍.
Unless they're alt accounts, lol, but I doubt it. You'll be fine.👍💦
Hey, one thing I wondered: how are you able to call me “piggish” + other insults that traumatized me to the point I auto-avert my gaze from your notifications, then take deep breaths to open just one- how would you expect your kind words offset that? They don't!
Don't you see the disconnect? Don't you see how you cheapen and sully the value of the words when you speak them so easily, so ragefully ; so pettily? Words manifest our actions, and actions manifest our fruits. PROVERBS 18:20-21 Remember that..
I keep thinking over and over again- is he gonna wake up from this? From not seeing what is so clearly and evidently there.
When my body has literal life or death instinctual defense reactions to idea of touching you irl, your contact, interactions with you- were REALLY scratching our heads as to how that happened???
You're a law buff. The evidence is all there. You really gonna do me like bird brain and blatantly not acknowledge what physically concretely exists before us both? Your actions my actions.
But I was there when you needed, when you were in subhuman form, and when my time came to reach subhuman form- at the hands of my ex and tensions with you- u chuckled and sighed at me. said I was inconvenience rn lol, someone else took priority 😘. Did I need any MAJOR help from you? No. Could you have made me feel slightly less alone? I think so.
Cmon man. I was fucking down and you did equivalent of spit on me. I feel betrayed. Dealbreaker.
Idk its just scary man, like if you lived a diff experience than me these last 6 months- I'm scared as to what your perception is now. I cant be in something where I believe I'm the princess and you actually see me as the Beast.
I hate how off centered you made me feel, and how you rage like my dad, too much like him. I'm not trying to regress. Forward not backwards right? Build eachother better etc.
Seriously take this time to think on the immensity of my sins and their ratio to my good actions. Take this time to see how you've given and treated certain exes deeply madly in love despite betrayals- in comparison to the respect shown for me.
I didn't even WANT love just basic friend respect!!
Now, look at the woman you and Bird Brain helped make.
a woman who texted a man a few times while presumably SINGLE and now shudders with heart palpitations to see your text or email icon pop up. Is that what others commonly experience after exposure too?
Wtf man. You know you did me unfair, not right, wrong. You know you played games with me boy
submitted by Known-Revolution-488 to UnsentLettersRaw [link] [comments]
Unless they're alt accounts, lol, but I doubt it. You'll be fine.👍💦
Hey, one thing I wondered: how are you able to call me “piggish” + other insults that traumatized me to the point I auto-avert my gaze from your notifications, then take deep breaths to open just one- how would you expect your kind words offset that? They don't!
Don't you see the disconnect? Don't you see how you cheapen and sully the value of the words when you speak them so easily, so ragefully ; so pettily? Words manifest our actions, and actions manifest our fruits. PROVERBS 18:20-21 Remember that..
I keep thinking over and over again- is he gonna wake up from this? From not seeing what is so clearly and evidently there.
When my body has literal life or death instinctual defense reactions to idea of touching you irl, your contact, interactions with you- were REALLY scratching our heads as to how that happened???
You're a law buff. The evidence is all there. You really gonna do me like bird brain and blatantly not acknowledge what physically concretely exists before us both? Your actions my actions.
But I was there when you needed, when you were in subhuman form, and when my time came to reach subhuman form- at the hands of my ex and tensions with you- u chuckled and sighed at me. said I was inconvenience rn lol, someone else took priority 😘. Did I need any MAJOR help from you? No. Could you have made me feel slightly less alone? I think so.
Cmon man. I was fucking down and you did equivalent of spit on me. I feel betrayed. Dealbreaker.
Idk its just scary man, like if you lived a diff experience than me these last 6 months- I'm scared as to what your perception is now. I cant be in something where I believe I'm the princess and you actually see me as the Beast.
I hate how off centered you made me feel, and how you rage like my dad, too much like him. I'm not trying to regress. Forward not backwards right? Build eachother better etc.
Seriously take this time to think on the immensity of my sins and their ratio to my good actions. Take this time to see how you've given and treated certain exes deeply madly in love despite betrayals- in comparison to the respect shown for me.
I didn't even WANT love just basic friend respect!!
Now, look at the woman you and Bird Brain helped make.
a woman who texted a man a few times while presumably SINGLE and now shudders with heart palpitations to see your text or email icon pop up. Is that what others commonly experience after exposure too?
Wtf man. You know you did me unfair, not right, wrong. You know you played games with me boy
2024.06.01 10:28 naraburns Quality Contributions Report for May 2024
This is the Quality Contributions Roundup. It showcases interesting and well-written comments and posts from the period covered. If you want to get an idea of what this community is about or how we want you to participate, look no further (except the rules maybe--those might be important too).
As a reminder, you can nominate Quality Contributions by hitting the report button and selecting the "Actually A Quality Contribution!" option. Additionally, links to all of the roundups can be found in the wiki of /theThread which can be found here. For a list of other great community content, see here.
These are mostly chronologically ordered, but I have in some cases tried to cluster comments by topic so if there is something you are looking for (or trying to avoid), this might be helpful.
@BahRamYou:
@johnfabian:
@2D3D:
@urquan:
@FCfromSSC:
@self_made_human:
@Tenaz:
@cjet79:
@SlowBoy:
@Ben___Garrison:
@OliveTapenade:
@NelsonRushton:
@Gaashk:
@ares:
@Folamh3:
@faceh:
@Dean:
@Amadan:
@flitter:
@MadMonzer:
@NelsonRushton:
@urquan:
@FCfromSSC:
@coffee_enjoyer:
@blooblyblobl:
@Rov_Scam:
@FiveHourMarathon:
@satirizedoor:
@blooblyblobl:
@gorge:
submitted by naraburns to thethread [link] [comments]
As a reminder, you can nominate Quality Contributions by hitting the report button and selecting the "Actually A Quality Contribution!" option. Additionally, links to all of the roundups can be found in the wiki of /theThread which can be found here. For a list of other great community content, see here.
These are mostly chronologically ordered, but I have in some cases tried to cluster comments by topic so if there is something you are looking for (or trying to avoid), this might be helpful.
Quality Contributions in the Main Motte
@gattsuru:@BahRamYou:
@johnfabian:
@2D3D:
@urquan:
@FCfromSSC:
Contributions for the week of April 29, 2024
@FCfromSSC:- "All this has been done to us; tit-for-tat is the correct strategy given the state of play."step. Impose costs anywhere and everywhere."
- "I believe that 'We know how to solve all our problems' is a brief, common-language encapsulation of the core thesis of a specific ideological movement, and that this ideological movement is best understood as the central example of the Enlightenment."
- "Factors Playing Into Korea's Gender War"
- "It would be interesting to see how people would respond if you asked them would you rather be stuck in a forest with a bear or a black man."
@self_made_human:
@Tenaz:
Contributions for the week of May 6, 2024
@gattsuru:@cjet79:
@SlowBoy:
@Ben___Garrison:
Contributions for the week of May 13, 2024
@gattsuru:@OliveTapenade:
@NelsonRushton:
@Gaashk:
@ares:
@Folamh3:
@faceh:
@Dean:
@Amadan:
@flitter:
Contributions for the week of May 20, 2024
@Walterodim:@MadMonzer:
@NelsonRushton:
@urquan:
@FCfromSSC:
- "At some point down the line, the escalation for one side or the other will be unsurvivable to the system as a whole, and it will fail. Again, people counting on the system's survival should be made aware of this."
- "I don't see any value in the HBD hypothesis. On the other hand, I don't actually see positive value in diversity in and of itself, and I'm not willing to go along with the polite lies our racial "conversation" consistently demands."
@coffee_enjoyer:
Contributions for the week of May 27, 2024
@jeroboam:@blooblyblobl:
@Rov_Scam:
@FiveHourMarathon:
@satirizedoor:
@blooblyblobl:
@gorge:
2024.06.01 10:03 Jop801 Small Militia list
I wanted to use this as an allied detachment for World eaters. Themed like a mad max army. Opinions and criticism is welcome.
Provenance of war: Alchem-jackers Feral warriors
HQ: Militia Force Comander 100pt Warlord trait: Marcher Lord - Power armour 15pt - Iron Halo 20pt - Power weapon 10pt - Hand flamer 10pt 155pt
Militia Discipline Master Cadre 20pt - 1 additional Discipline Master 20pt - 2x Carapace Armour 10pt - 2x Chainaxe 4pt - 2x Refraktorfield 10pt -2x Blastpistol 10pt 74pt
Troops: Militia Infantry Squad 80pt - 20x Chainaxes 40pt - Frenzon 25pt 145pt
Militia Infantry Squad 80pt - 20x Chainaxes 40pt - Frenzon 25pt 145pt
Militia Infantry Squad 80pt - 20x Chainaxes 40pt - Frenzon 25pt 145pt
Fast Attack: Militia Cargo-8 Hauler Squadron 50pt - 2 additional Cargo-8 Haulers 80pt - 3x Smoke launchers 15pt - 3x Dozer blade 15pt 160pt
Militia Cavalry Squad 50pt - Power weapon on Militia Seargent 10pt - Boltpistol on Militia Seargent 5pt - 1x Melta Lance 10pt - 3x Shotgun 3pt - 5x Carapace Armour 10pt 88pt
Militia Cavalry Squad 50pt - Power weapon on Militia Seargent 10pt - Boltpistol on Militia Seargent 5pt - 1x Melta Lance 10pt - 3x Shotgun 3pt - 5x Carapace Armour 10pt 88pt
1000pt
submitted by Jop801 to Warhammer30k [link] [comments]
Provenance of war: Alchem-jackers Feral warriors
HQ: Militia Force Comander 100pt Warlord trait: Marcher Lord - Power armour 15pt - Iron Halo 20pt - Power weapon 10pt - Hand flamer 10pt 155pt
Militia Discipline Master Cadre 20pt - 1 additional Discipline Master 20pt - 2x Carapace Armour 10pt - 2x Chainaxe 4pt - 2x Refraktorfield 10pt -2x Blastpistol 10pt 74pt
Troops: Militia Infantry Squad 80pt - 20x Chainaxes 40pt - Frenzon 25pt 145pt
Militia Infantry Squad 80pt - 20x Chainaxes 40pt - Frenzon 25pt 145pt
Militia Infantry Squad 80pt - 20x Chainaxes 40pt - Frenzon 25pt 145pt
Fast Attack: Militia Cargo-8 Hauler Squadron 50pt - 2 additional Cargo-8 Haulers 80pt - 3x Smoke launchers 15pt - 3x Dozer blade 15pt 160pt
Militia Cavalry Squad 50pt - Power weapon on Militia Seargent 10pt - Boltpistol on Militia Seargent 5pt - 1x Melta Lance 10pt - 3x Shotgun 3pt - 5x Carapace Armour 10pt 88pt
Militia Cavalry Squad 50pt - Power weapon on Militia Seargent 10pt - Boltpistol on Militia Seargent 5pt - 1x Melta Lance 10pt - 3x Shotgun 3pt - 5x Carapace Armour 10pt 88pt
1000pt
2024.06.01 09:51 TheDarkenSandvich SkyrimVR randomly just closes itself.
I've been modding skyrimVr recently and have everything working fine and dandy, no problems with my mods what so ever, but now when I try to play the game, I even Turned all the settings low in order to see if that fixes it, ( I'm using Air Link On a quest 2 btw. ) it just suddenly closes the game, i go to check vortex to see if any of my mods are not functioning, nothing, everything is fine it seems, it just randomly closes the game and i cannot for my life find out what's wrong, I'Ve done EVERy step in order to make sure it all works, and now this is the last step frustrating me, does anyone know how to fix this? and yes, supersampling is off.
My Modlist:
Awesome Potions Simplifed
!DaedricArmorSE
!DustAdeptArmorSE
!DwemerArmorSE
!FlutedArmorSE
Infantry Armor SE - 1fsse
1NDArmorSE
1NGarmorSE
1SilverArmorSE
Wind Ruler Armor SE - 1WRSE
1YsmirArmorSE
DBArmorSE
DigitigradeKhjiit_ArgonianRaptor
Immersive Armors 8.1 SSE
Eviscerate - Weapon Sound Redesigned -
more painful Death Sounds ESL
Reverb and Ambiance Overhaul UPDATED ESL
Rustic UI Sounds
The Standing Sound Stones
Yggdrasil Music and SoundFX
Caliente`s Beautiful Bodies Enhancer CBBE - v2.0.3
CoverKhajiits 2k
Terre`s 4k Fur Textures for CoverKhajiis - Vanilla CBBE UNP BHUNP SoS HIMBO - Terre`s Body Fur Textures AIO - 2k
Dual Casting Fix
opencomposite_skyrim_vr_files
powerofthree` Tweaks VR
Unofficial Skyrim Special Edition Patch
bandolier bags and Pouches Classic SE
Skyshards v1.6.0
Simply Craftable Bandages - Bandages - ESL
1Atronach
1FleshColossusSE
1GoblinSE
1 ImpsSE
Seducers SE - 1MazkenSE
1MinotaursSE
1OrgresSE
1OrgrimsSE
1ScampsSE
Fort Windpoint SE - 1SixthHouseSE
1SpriggansSE
1TrollsSE
Clannfears by 4th SSE
Durzogs SE
echatere SE
HungersSE
Know Your Enemy - Trait-based resistances and weaknesses - Know Your Enemy
Kwama Creatures SE
StalksSE
Welwas SE
Andromeda - Unique Standing Stones of Skyrim - Andromeda 1.1.2
BarenziahQuestMarkers SSE v1-3-1
Character Creation Overhaul 1_3_3 SSE
SunHelm Survival
Immersive Patrols (Main)
More to Say
Personal Growth
Wintersun 3.2.0
ZdoImmersiveDeath-v2.1
Multiple Rings
Conduit - Short-term Weapon Infusions - Conduit
Spellsiphon - Complete Edition
Apocalypse 9.45.0
Summermyst 4.0.1
Warp Magic - Lore Of Ruin
JContainers SE
MergeMapper
Papyrus Extender VR
PapyrusUtil VR - Scripting Utilities Functions
VR Address Library
Female Dragonic Argonian Textures 4k - 2k(CBBE and UNP) - 2K CBBE
Male Dragonic Argonian Textures 4k - 2k (SOS and Vanilla) - 2K Vanilla
BURP - spell Tomes
EISopa - Quivers Redone 1 k SE
EISopa - Quivers Redone HOTFIX 1k
Gems as they should be
Skyland AIO
Bosmer NPCs have antlers - FOMOD Installer
Campfire - Complete Camping System (Supports Skyrim VR) - Campfire 1.12.1 SEVR Release
Dlbella's Blessing
End Times Of Skyrim SE
Male Npc Overhaul VI 2 fixed
OBIS SE - Organized Bandits In Skyrim Special Edition - Obis
RSSE Children Overhaul 1.1.3 with hotfix 1
Al Overhaul 1.8.5 1.6.1130
Manbeast - A Werewolf Overhaul
Ordinator 9.31 .0
Sacrosanct 6.0.0
Skyrim VR USSEP 4.2.2 and SSE 1.5.97 Compatibility Patch
Imperious 7.28.0
Golden SkyrimVR Logo
HQ-PerkslnterfaceSSE_AI00N
SkyUl VR
UlExtensions VI-2-0
Keyword Item Distributor
Skyrim Script Extender for VR (SKSEVR)
Spell Perk Item Distributor VR
R.A.S.S. - Rain Ash And Snow Shaders
Durability VR
Engine Fixes VR vl .26
HIGGS - Enhanced VR Interaction - HIGGS 1.9.0
Immersive Smithing 1.0.4
Menu Mouse Fix
Magic Improvements for Skyrim VR - MISVR 1.20
PLANCK - Physical Animation and Character Kinetics - PLANCK 0.6.4
Simple Realistic Archery VR
Skyrim VR ESL
SkyrimVRTools
Spell Wheel VR
VR FPS Stabilizer (FOMOD Installer)
VRIK Player Avatar
Weapon Throw VR
1 IvoryBow
Reforging - To the Masses
Scoped Bows SE 1.3.1
Vanilla Weapon Replacer SSE
Fulcimentum - More staves and wands of Skyrim
Refined Artifacts
submitted by TheDarkenSandvich to skyrimvr [link] [comments]
My Modlist:
Awesome Potions Simplifed
!DaedricArmorSE
!DustAdeptArmorSE
!DwemerArmorSE
!FlutedArmorSE
Infantry Armor SE - 1fsse
1NDArmorSE
1NGarmorSE
1SilverArmorSE
Wind Ruler Armor SE - 1WRSE
1YsmirArmorSE
DBArmorSE
DigitigradeKhjiit_ArgonianRaptor
Immersive Armors 8.1 SSE
Eviscerate - Weapon Sound Redesigned -
more painful Death Sounds ESL
Reverb and Ambiance Overhaul UPDATED ESL
Rustic UI Sounds
The Standing Sound Stones
Yggdrasil Music and SoundFX
Caliente`s Beautiful Bodies Enhancer CBBE - v2.0.3
CoverKhajiits 2k
Terre`s 4k Fur Textures for CoverKhajiis - Vanilla CBBE UNP BHUNP SoS HIMBO - Terre`s Body Fur Textures AIO - 2k
Dual Casting Fix
opencomposite_skyrim_vr_files
powerofthree` Tweaks VR
Unofficial Skyrim Special Edition Patch
bandolier bags and Pouches Classic SE
Skyshards v1.6.0
Simply Craftable Bandages - Bandages - ESL
1Atronach
1FleshColossusSE
1GoblinSE
1 ImpsSE
Seducers SE - 1MazkenSE
1MinotaursSE
1OrgresSE
1OrgrimsSE
1ScampsSE
Fort Windpoint SE - 1SixthHouseSE
1SpriggansSE
1TrollsSE
Clannfears by 4th SSE
Durzogs SE
echatere SE
HungersSE
Know Your Enemy - Trait-based resistances and weaknesses - Know Your Enemy
Kwama Creatures SE
StalksSE
Welwas SE
Andromeda - Unique Standing Stones of Skyrim - Andromeda 1.1.2
BarenziahQuestMarkers SSE v1-3-1
Character Creation Overhaul 1_3_3 SSE
SunHelm Survival
Immersive Patrols (Main)
More to Say
Personal Growth
Wintersun 3.2.0
ZdoImmersiveDeath-v2.1
Multiple Rings
Conduit - Short-term Weapon Infusions - Conduit
Spellsiphon - Complete Edition
Apocalypse 9.45.0
Summermyst 4.0.1
Warp Magic - Lore Of Ruin
JContainers SE
MergeMapper
Papyrus Extender VR
PapyrusUtil VR - Scripting Utilities Functions
VR Address Library
Female Dragonic Argonian Textures 4k - 2k(CBBE and UNP) - 2K CBBE
Male Dragonic Argonian Textures 4k - 2k (SOS and Vanilla) - 2K Vanilla
BURP - spell Tomes
EISopa - Quivers Redone 1 k SE
EISopa - Quivers Redone HOTFIX 1k
Gems as they should be
Skyland AIO
Bosmer NPCs have antlers - FOMOD Installer
Campfire - Complete Camping System (Supports Skyrim VR) - Campfire 1.12.1 SEVR Release
Dlbella's Blessing
End Times Of Skyrim SE
Male Npc Overhaul VI 2 fixed
OBIS SE - Organized Bandits In Skyrim Special Edition - Obis
RSSE Children Overhaul 1.1.3 with hotfix 1
Al Overhaul 1.8.5 1.6.1130
Manbeast - A Werewolf Overhaul
Ordinator 9.31 .0
Sacrosanct 6.0.0
Skyrim VR USSEP 4.2.2 and SSE 1.5.97 Compatibility Patch
Imperious 7.28.0
Golden SkyrimVR Logo
HQ-PerkslnterfaceSSE_AI00N
SkyUl VR
UlExtensions VI-2-0
Keyword Item Distributor
Skyrim Script Extender for VR (SKSEVR)
Spell Perk Item Distributor VR
R.A.S.S. - Rain Ash And Snow Shaders
Durability VR
Engine Fixes VR vl .26
HIGGS - Enhanced VR Interaction - HIGGS 1.9.0
Immersive Smithing 1.0.4
Menu Mouse Fix
Magic Improvements for Skyrim VR - MISVR 1.20
PLANCK - Physical Animation and Character Kinetics - PLANCK 0.6.4
Simple Realistic Archery VR
Skyrim VR ESL
SkyrimVRTools
Spell Wheel VR
VR FPS Stabilizer (FOMOD Installer)
VRIK Player Avatar
Weapon Throw VR
1 IvoryBow
Reforging - To the Masses
Scoped Bows SE 1.3.1
Vanilla Weapon Replacer SSE
Fulcimentum - More staves and wands of Skyrim
Refined Artifacts
2024.06.01 09:35 DarkSector0011 Well
Will we be as Lucifer in the 9th circle
Tounges hanging out
As we scream in defiance
And fight against our own creators
Crippled and broken
Frozen and dying
Eyeing the sky
Or will be face the revolution
Of natural law
Say "maybe we should slip out tonight"
Before the noise of all the morning
And the King will come and raise his sword
And the Queen will accept his whores
Take her spite and cruelty to the servants
The people will suffer
We who break away and refuse to stay
Will we be as animals, put down in the street?
Bleeding and screaming, primal and lost
Will we descend in to madness
As we cast off all the things we've been taught?
Coughing up lies, there we were, a circle of us, trying to survive
Wondering but not, each step is an action, testing us in lifes eyes
Each decision, each interaction
The further you go
Oh, you already should know
What happens, the further you go
And if you're speaking to me
You should probably leave me be
Though I wish you the best on your journey
You should know already it isn't a fairly tale
No dreams carry you beyond nightmares
They swallow you whole and chew on your voice
Distorting it in the eyes and ears of those you love or those who are your enemies
Only a few will break the chains and be free. Wild to the core, intrinsically non-dualized
The ethical imperative is to interfere as little as possible
Except for in the event of fatal error
Some suffering will lead to what feels like infinitely more
At which point we should say
"Wait".
submitted by DarkSector0011 to writingVOID [link] [comments]
Tounges hanging out
As we scream in defiance
And fight against our own creators
Crippled and broken
Frozen and dying
Eyeing the sky
Or will be face the revolution
Of natural law
Say "maybe we should slip out tonight"
Before the noise of all the morning
And the King will come and raise his sword
And the Queen will accept his whores
Take her spite and cruelty to the servants
The people will suffer
We who break away and refuse to stay
Will we be as animals, put down in the street?
Bleeding and screaming, primal and lost
Will we descend in to madness
As we cast off all the things we've been taught?
Coughing up lies, there we were, a circle of us, trying to survive
Wondering but not, each step is an action, testing us in lifes eyes
Each decision, each interaction
The further you go
Oh, you already should know
What happens, the further you go
And if you're speaking to me
You should probably leave me be
Though I wish you the best on your journey
You should know already it isn't a fairly tale
No dreams carry you beyond nightmares
They swallow you whole and chew on your voice
Distorting it in the eyes and ears of those you love or those who are your enemies
Only a few will break the chains and be free. Wild to the core, intrinsically non-dualized
The ethical imperative is to interfere as little as possible
Except for in the event of fatal error
Some suffering will lead to what feels like infinitely more
At which point we should say
"Wait".
2024.06.01 09:23 keyword-exactly Havana syndrome, v2k, Remote Neural Monitoring, Mkultra, Darpa, Mind control, Targeted individuals, gangstalking - a guide to the technology
Why am i writing this?
the purpose of this document is to raise awareness on the subject and provide a proper foundation of information to the public and those who may be targeted. These types of programs and technologies will become more and more common as time goes on and it may be difficult for some to get a handle on it without this information. This information is crucial in the early stages of exposure to this technology as it can help someone differentiate between schizophrenia, the voice of "god", a false conscience, an alien technology or any voice versus the actual technology being used on them. Having a trusted voice inside your head can be very dangerous and can have devastating effects on a person if they are being led the wrong way. Many dictatorship like countries have already adopted a very aggressive form of this technology, paired with their social values and strict policies it leaves millions of humans at the mercy and control of a small group of people. Behind closed doors this technology is at the forefront of government tools to use to control the population in a way that leaves them blameless.
what is this new technology?
This technology is an assortment of different directed energy weapons and a voice to skull technology that work together to project thoughts and hit the target with varying effects. The first one that most people will experience is a form of voice to skull which does exactly what it sounds like, it has the ability to project voices in your head and can be mistaken for one's "conscience" or the "voice of God" but is just a mix of human operator and conversational AI. This is usually accompanied by the same voice re-reading your internal monologue right back to you in real time. Directional voice is also commonly used, basically it sounds like someone is in the next room over or upstairs but this is just another illusion put in your head by the technology. The voice to skull “voice” is a very advanced form of conversational AI programmed with specific scripts to fit the targets life situation and the "programs" goal for said individual. The rest of the time its the actual human operator, its about 80% AI 20% Human operator. Just as they can beam outside voices in your head they can also “suggest” or “inject” thoughts that will feel like your own thoughts but will present itself as an intruding thought, yes they know how to make you think things without you even being aware. The "program" will also use an assortement of directed energy weapons (DEW) which can cause headaches, brain zaps, heart palpitations and chest pains aswell as nausea, tinnitus, very realistic hallucinations and paralysis. Another tool used is a supressor which will essentially supress the brain by putting it into a sleep inertia like state and can be turned up or down, this can cause you to feel very sleepy and if you give in then it can put you to sleep. These tools can be combined to create various effects for example, using the supressor while raising the heartrate can cause a form of sleep paralysis while you are sleeping and so on. They can replicate almost all mental and physical health problems. Dreams are another field that this technology can manipulate with precision accuracy, dreams cannot be mistaken for anything but manipulation if you find yourself being targeted. There are hints of subconscious manipulation while you are asleep but there is not much information on this unfortunately. the program is a government level program therefore they will have access to suggest posts on the main social media’s that fits the targets situation in order to subconsciously adhere to the programs goal (instagram, Facebook, Meta apps) this fits the description for propaganda by repetition as they try to induce the illusory truth effect to double down on their goals for you. They are very well trained in psychological warfare and will use tactics like reverse psychology aswell as use/depend on cognitive biases against the target in tandem with all of these technologies.
the purpose
the purpose of this technology can vary depending on the target and the operator as well as which country it is happening in. there are a multitude of "programs" from research programs that aim to test new and existing methods and technologies on humans, this type of program is unlikely to be used on the civilian population as much as the other programs. Research programs will often leave its victims in a very disabled state often mistaken for severe mental and physical health issues. Re-education programs are used to control the population in a way to modify behavior and beliefs of the population to allign with the values and beliefs of the government that is conducting the program. Monitoring programs which are used to monitor persons of interest for potential criminal activity. People will typically fall into one or multiple programs. There is no way to tell how people are chosen for these programs.
How it works
I will begin by explaining how these different technologies work, in simple terms. The voice to skull technology essentially is a 2 way channel in which the individual and the operatoAI can communicate via thought. To achieve this, brain reading is paired with a form of microwave hearing (Extremely low frequency). the way they read thoughts is the brain will give off specific electrical signals with each thought and action and this technology can read your thoughts with a beam - probe like device that is constantly on, pointed at you and collecting your brains electrical data and translating it. They have algorithms that can decipher these specific brain signals and turn it into text which consequentially has given them a v2k word dictionary to refer to. the microwave hearing is done by sending Extremely Low Frequency energy to the skull with which is then transduced by the cochlea and in turn enables the "hearing" of voices. The “AI” or “algorithm” or “computer program” used is programmed with “Natural language processing” or NLP which is a field of artificial intelligence that focuses on interaction between humans and computers using language and what this means is it can interpret, understand and generate human language. This AI will talk to you 24/7 using this 2 way channel until a human takes over. This technology is also capable of thought insertion/suggestion and this will often present itself as very intruding thoughts that are abnormal to your day to day thought process but can be anything, it will also learn how you think and try to suggest things you normally think of to attempt a version of “mind control” which is done in a similar fashion to the v2k but is sent directly to the brain and not through the cochlea, no specific information on how this is administered unfortunately. The suppressor is essentially an Extremely Low Frequency Electromagnetic field and will induce theta brainwaves to make you sleepy this is why sometimes in the dark you will see small phosphenes or “speckles of light”. Directed energy weapons can be classed into many subclasses, the ones i am referring to are the more subtle weapons meant for targeting, disabling and harming biological beings with brain zaps as-well as headaches and fever like symptoms. Headaches are caused by an overload of radio frequency energy sent directly to the brain causing the brain to slowly expand which causes the headaches (this is why during v2k you will sometimes get headaches). Brain zaps are caused via electromagnetic pulse and can be programmed into your v2k algorithm to deter you from thinking of something they do not want you to think of, it will (if left unchecked) work in their favor. The symptoms of fever are induced by actually raising your body heat through RF directed energy, they refer to this as “RF incapacitation” and the effects can differ but people become less aggressive or more aggressive depending on the person and this can be used to amplify or reduce certain emotional reactions.
Please note that the technology of today is more advanced then what is listed on these patents, its just to show you that alot of this was possible a very long time ago.
tips :
Here i will list a couple tips to deal with these programs and technologies altough there is no straightforward solution yet these will help.
Inform yourself on how it works, do alot of digging and verify the information with other sources.
Music
Meditation
Exercise
Being outdoors
Staying off of social media.
Staying sober (very important)
Using the v2k’s natural language processing faults against it. There will Be a second document outlining this process soon.
Below i will include some useful links & patents
Here are some important patents:
US patent 4958638A (monitor vitals from a distance)
US Patent 20160375220A1 (Method to maintain peace through electromagnetic energy targeted to the brain)
US Patent 8049173B1 (this is what shows your location in real time)
US Patent 6470214B1 (voice to skull, assigned to U.S airforce in 1997)
Links
https://youtu.be/N02SK9yd60s?si=ONFisrO0ws7zuXgQ - James Giordano lecture about DEW, neuroscience
(https://www.reddit.com/emsurvival/) - survival guide
(https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T501LHx0R_Q) - Interview
https://www.ohchr.org/sites/default/files/Documents/Issues/Torture/Call/NGOs/VIACTECAnnex.pdf) patent list (many of these are older versions of technology or just “ideas” compared to what we have today, its just to give you an idea that this did exist a long time ago and does today. Government science is always 20-30 years ahead of conventional science.
https://www.youtube.com/live/LCYH_K850Lw?si=P_kVPnJdCUSvXc35 - United states homeland security committee on AHI’S
—— Any relevant information or corrections are appreciated.
submitted by keyword-exactly to u/keyword-exactly [link] [comments]
the purpose of this document is to raise awareness on the subject and provide a proper foundation of information to the public and those who may be targeted. These types of programs and technologies will become more and more common as time goes on and it may be difficult for some to get a handle on it without this information. This information is crucial in the early stages of exposure to this technology as it can help someone differentiate between schizophrenia, the voice of "god", a false conscience, an alien technology or any voice versus the actual technology being used on them. Having a trusted voice inside your head can be very dangerous and can have devastating effects on a person if they are being led the wrong way. Many dictatorship like countries have already adopted a very aggressive form of this technology, paired with their social values and strict policies it leaves millions of humans at the mercy and control of a small group of people. Behind closed doors this technology is at the forefront of government tools to use to control the population in a way that leaves them blameless.
what is this new technology?
This technology is an assortment of different directed energy weapons and a voice to skull technology that work together to project thoughts and hit the target with varying effects. The first one that most people will experience is a form of voice to skull which does exactly what it sounds like, it has the ability to project voices in your head and can be mistaken for one's "conscience" or the "voice of God" but is just a mix of human operator and conversational AI. This is usually accompanied by the same voice re-reading your internal monologue right back to you in real time. Directional voice is also commonly used, basically it sounds like someone is in the next room over or upstairs but this is just another illusion put in your head by the technology. The voice to skull “voice” is a very advanced form of conversational AI programmed with specific scripts to fit the targets life situation and the "programs" goal for said individual. The rest of the time its the actual human operator, its about 80% AI 20% Human operator. Just as they can beam outside voices in your head they can also “suggest” or “inject” thoughts that will feel like your own thoughts but will present itself as an intruding thought, yes they know how to make you think things without you even being aware. The "program" will also use an assortement of directed energy weapons (DEW) which can cause headaches, brain zaps, heart palpitations and chest pains aswell as nausea, tinnitus, very realistic hallucinations and paralysis. Another tool used is a supressor which will essentially supress the brain by putting it into a sleep inertia like state and can be turned up or down, this can cause you to feel very sleepy and if you give in then it can put you to sleep. These tools can be combined to create various effects for example, using the supressor while raising the heartrate can cause a form of sleep paralysis while you are sleeping and so on. They can replicate almost all mental and physical health problems. Dreams are another field that this technology can manipulate with precision accuracy, dreams cannot be mistaken for anything but manipulation if you find yourself being targeted. There are hints of subconscious manipulation while you are asleep but there is not much information on this unfortunately. the program is a government level program therefore they will have access to suggest posts on the main social media’s that fits the targets situation in order to subconsciously adhere to the programs goal (instagram, Facebook, Meta apps) this fits the description for propaganda by repetition as they try to induce the illusory truth effect to double down on their goals for you. They are very well trained in psychological warfare and will use tactics like reverse psychology aswell as use/depend on cognitive biases against the target in tandem with all of these technologies.
the purpose
the purpose of this technology can vary depending on the target and the operator as well as which country it is happening in. there are a multitude of "programs" from research programs that aim to test new and existing methods and technologies on humans, this type of program is unlikely to be used on the civilian population as much as the other programs. Research programs will often leave its victims in a very disabled state often mistaken for severe mental and physical health issues. Re-education programs are used to control the population in a way to modify behavior and beliefs of the population to allign with the values and beliefs of the government that is conducting the program. Monitoring programs which are used to monitor persons of interest for potential criminal activity. People will typically fall into one or multiple programs. There is no way to tell how people are chosen for these programs.
How it works
I will begin by explaining how these different technologies work, in simple terms. The voice to skull technology essentially is a 2 way channel in which the individual and the operatoAI can communicate via thought. To achieve this, brain reading is paired with a form of microwave hearing (Extremely low frequency). the way they read thoughts is the brain will give off specific electrical signals with each thought and action and this technology can read your thoughts with a beam - probe like device that is constantly on, pointed at you and collecting your brains electrical data and translating it. They have algorithms that can decipher these specific brain signals and turn it into text which consequentially has given them a v2k word dictionary to refer to. the microwave hearing is done by sending Extremely Low Frequency energy to the skull with which is then transduced by the cochlea and in turn enables the "hearing" of voices. The “AI” or “algorithm” or “computer program” used is programmed with “Natural language processing” or NLP which is a field of artificial intelligence that focuses on interaction between humans and computers using language and what this means is it can interpret, understand and generate human language. This AI will talk to you 24/7 using this 2 way channel until a human takes over. This technology is also capable of thought insertion/suggestion and this will often present itself as very intruding thoughts that are abnormal to your day to day thought process but can be anything, it will also learn how you think and try to suggest things you normally think of to attempt a version of “mind control” which is done in a similar fashion to the v2k but is sent directly to the brain and not through the cochlea, no specific information on how this is administered unfortunately. The suppressor is essentially an Extremely Low Frequency Electromagnetic field and will induce theta brainwaves to make you sleepy this is why sometimes in the dark you will see small phosphenes or “speckles of light”. Directed energy weapons can be classed into many subclasses, the ones i am referring to are the more subtle weapons meant for targeting, disabling and harming biological beings with brain zaps as-well as headaches and fever like symptoms. Headaches are caused by an overload of radio frequency energy sent directly to the brain causing the brain to slowly expand which causes the headaches (this is why during v2k you will sometimes get headaches). Brain zaps are caused via electromagnetic pulse and can be programmed into your v2k algorithm to deter you from thinking of something they do not want you to think of, it will (if left unchecked) work in their favor. The symptoms of fever are induced by actually raising your body heat through RF directed energy, they refer to this as “RF incapacitation” and the effects can differ but people become less aggressive or more aggressive depending on the person and this can be used to amplify or reduce certain emotional reactions.
Please note that the technology of today is more advanced then what is listed on these patents, its just to show you that alot of this was possible a very long time ago.
tips :
Here i will list a couple tips to deal with these programs and technologies altough there is no straightforward solution yet these will help.
Inform yourself on how it works, do alot of digging and verify the information with other sources.
Music
Meditation
Exercise
Being outdoors
Staying off of social media.
Staying sober (very important)
Using the v2k’s natural language processing faults against it. There will Be a second document outlining this process soon.
Below i will include some useful links & patents
US patent 4958638A (monitor vitals from a distance)
US Patent 20160375220A1 (Method to maintain peace through electromagnetic energy targeted to the brain)
US Patent 8049173B1 (this is what shows your location in real time)
US Patent 6470214B1 (voice to skull, assigned to U.S airforce in 1997)
Links
https://youtu.be/N02SK9yd60s?si=ONFisrO0ws7zuXgQ - James Giordano lecture about DEW, neuroscience
(https://www.reddit.com/emsurvival/) - survival guide
(https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T501LHx0R_Q) - Interview
https://www.ohchr.org/sites/default/files/Documents/Issues/Torture/Call/NGOs/VIACTECAnnex.pdf) patent list (many of these are older versions of technology or just “ideas” compared to what we have today, its just to give you an idea that this did exist a long time ago and does today. Government science is always 20-30 years ahead of conventional science.
https://www.youtube.com/live/LCYH_K850Lw?si=P_kVPnJdCUSvXc35 - United states homeland security committee on AHI’S
—— Any relevant information or corrections are appreciated.
2024.06.01 09:22 Mrtoasterguy DayZ is the best pvp survival game.
It's crazy I built my first PC in 2013 for DayZ and it's been over ten years and this game has aged like fine wine. This is the only game that sinks fear deep down in my soul. I know there are hackers but they are so far and few between.
Just the other day I was playing on an official server and I was messing around in the town of gorka I didn't have really any gear or food. As I was looking though a house a man walked up to me with a foreign accent and said he was dying. He had a blood disease from an infected wound ,and needed antibiotics. I told him I had none and he kind of just walked away. I continued to look for some food and found nothing. I heard a gunshot from the west, in the direction that the guy went so I decided to investigate. When I found him he was skinning a goat that he had killed. Then he had killed another. I slowly approached and asked him if I could have some food because I was starving to death at this point. We then went and found a house where we prepared a fire and cooked the goat. While we were sitting there he told me that he couldn't go any further or he would die.
I asked him if there was anything we could do. He said that he needed a strong antibiotic called tetracycline to fight off the infection and these can be only found in medical buildings and hospitals and this town didn't have any. At this point it had started to thunder storm outside and his sickness had progressed to the 2 stage. He asked if I would go while he rests here.
This man who was dying had saved me no matter what I had to try to find this medicine for him. I looked on a map I had found and saw that there was a campsite with a medical building a little over 1km away I ate as much as my stomach would allow and sent off. Overwhelmed by the situation and the storm outside I made my way west out of town to a road that lead to a trail that would bring me all the way to the campsite.
While I was walking I was thinking about everything. -is this a death trap? -will I get sick from the storm? -will he be there when I return just like he said or will he have left or be dead? (We were only talking in game) -this is insane there is no way he will be there when I get back I have an inventory full of good meat I should just hit the medical station and move along solo.
As I get closer I take In the sounds of the storm and the wind blowing in the trees and grass. I can hear the rain hit the leaves above my head and I count the seconds between the lightning flashing and the thunder. I know that this is not a realistic mission but it sure is a noble one. Now that I think of it I didn't even get his name before I left.
I arrived at the camp and slowed my approach the place looked like people had been though how recently I couldnt tell but doors to the cabins were open and this was exactly what I had expected. I expect people to be here but I don't even have time to worry Im ready to die for this I would be dead anyway by now if it wasn't for him. I run up to the medical buildings in a mad dash for cover and open the door.
I Found it. I didn't just find it I found 10 of those little bastards! I couldn't believe it. Now I needed to get back and the rain wasn't letting up. I am soaked I am cold and seriously I am so in to this shit like dude had better be there when I get back because I just spent 30 mins running there and back for him haha. "This was to long" I thought. He will be dead.
I grabbed a drink from the well and booked it back to disease boy as fast as I could only stopping to catch my breath. -would he still be in the house? -will someone have killed him and will they try to kill me? -i wonder what his name is.
Empty...the house was empty. The fire had gone out the town was quiet. I hadn't heard a gunshot since he killed the goats. Just like I said this is DayZ and this whole thing was just too forced. To many mistakes were made and the cards just weren't in his favour if only he would have stayed put. But would I have stayed for 30 minutes and just died hoping some random guy would bring me medicine?
Just then I heard a sound something...getting punched. It's fucking him! Even if it's not I'm about to get shot because I fucking made it dude. I run over and yell "yo man it's me the guy who went for medicine i found it dude" "Seriously? Thank you I didn't think you would come back!" he said with a sound of genuine relief!
"What's your name anyways?" I said "Zerek, what's yours?" "My name is Jigg."
I didn't mean to make it so long but I wanted to try my best to share how immersive DayZ can be. I remember so many interesting interactions and situations from this game not only would I say that DayZ is one of the best survival games ever made but I would probably say that it's my most favorite game I've ever played and often feel very privileged to be able to play this game. Thanks for reading y'all!
submitted by Mrtoasterguy to SurvivalGaming [link] [comments]
Just the other day I was playing on an official server and I was messing around in the town of gorka I didn't have really any gear or food. As I was looking though a house a man walked up to me with a foreign accent and said he was dying. He had a blood disease from an infected wound ,and needed antibiotics. I told him I had none and he kind of just walked away. I continued to look for some food and found nothing. I heard a gunshot from the west, in the direction that the guy went so I decided to investigate. When I found him he was skinning a goat that he had killed. Then he had killed another. I slowly approached and asked him if I could have some food because I was starving to death at this point. We then went and found a house where we prepared a fire and cooked the goat. While we were sitting there he told me that he couldn't go any further or he would die.
I asked him if there was anything we could do. He said that he needed a strong antibiotic called tetracycline to fight off the infection and these can be only found in medical buildings and hospitals and this town didn't have any. At this point it had started to thunder storm outside and his sickness had progressed to the 2 stage. He asked if I would go while he rests here.
This man who was dying had saved me no matter what I had to try to find this medicine for him. I looked on a map I had found and saw that there was a campsite with a medical building a little over 1km away I ate as much as my stomach would allow and sent off. Overwhelmed by the situation and the storm outside I made my way west out of town to a road that lead to a trail that would bring me all the way to the campsite.
While I was walking I was thinking about everything. -is this a death trap? -will I get sick from the storm? -will he be there when I return just like he said or will he have left or be dead? (We were only talking in game) -this is insane there is no way he will be there when I get back I have an inventory full of good meat I should just hit the medical station and move along solo.
As I get closer I take In the sounds of the storm and the wind blowing in the trees and grass. I can hear the rain hit the leaves above my head and I count the seconds between the lightning flashing and the thunder. I know that this is not a realistic mission but it sure is a noble one. Now that I think of it I didn't even get his name before I left.
I arrived at the camp and slowed my approach the place looked like people had been though how recently I couldnt tell but doors to the cabins were open and this was exactly what I had expected. I expect people to be here but I don't even have time to worry Im ready to die for this I would be dead anyway by now if it wasn't for him. I run up to the medical buildings in a mad dash for cover and open the door.
I Found it. I didn't just find it I found 10 of those little bastards! I couldn't believe it. Now I needed to get back and the rain wasn't letting up. I am soaked I am cold and seriously I am so in to this shit like dude had better be there when I get back because I just spent 30 mins running there and back for him haha. "This was to long" I thought. He will be dead.
I grabbed a drink from the well and booked it back to disease boy as fast as I could only stopping to catch my breath. -would he still be in the house? -will someone have killed him and will they try to kill me? -i wonder what his name is.
Empty...the house was empty. The fire had gone out the town was quiet. I hadn't heard a gunshot since he killed the goats. Just like I said this is DayZ and this whole thing was just too forced. To many mistakes were made and the cards just weren't in his favour if only he would have stayed put. But would I have stayed for 30 minutes and just died hoping some random guy would bring me medicine?
Just then I heard a sound something...getting punched. It's fucking him! Even if it's not I'm about to get shot because I fucking made it dude. I run over and yell "yo man it's me the guy who went for medicine i found it dude" "Seriously? Thank you I didn't think you would come back!" he said with a sound of genuine relief!
"What's your name anyways?" I said "Zerek, what's yours?" "My name is Jigg."
I didn't mean to make it so long but I wanted to try my best to share how immersive DayZ can be. I remember so many interesting interactions and situations from this game not only would I say that DayZ is one of the best survival games ever made but I would probably say that it's my most favorite game I've ever played and often feel very privileged to be able to play this game. Thanks for reading y'all!
2024.06.01 09:12 whatsablurryface21 I am anxious every time I interact with ANYONE
I'm sure I'm far from the only one but I find it bizarre that I'm expected to just live in the world normally when I feel like this. Literally leaving my bedroom makes me really anxious.
I have a lot of general anxiety and extreme rumination issues and things like that, but I also am never comfortable speaking to anyone. I'm able to do basic going-outside things but I'm still really uncomfortable doing it and obsess over every interaction for days afterwards. Still thinking about 4 days ago when a guy asked me to hold the bus for him and I turned around and just waved/pointed to the driver and he shrugged and drove off and I had to feel awkward af for not knowing what to do and not getting him to stop. I have another one from about 3 weeks ago that I still think about... It's the same with phone calls, and generally I don't go outside or even leave my room unless I need to.
Even speaking to my family makes me uncomfortable and I never know what to say and get exhausted really quickly from it. I just have this constant vibration of anxiety at the fact that I will probably have to see or speak to a person soon.
One thing that makes me really mad is actually the issues with speaking online or playing online games. It took me until last year to play fortnite because I get uncomfortable being observed in games, I don't want people to think I'm dumb or I'm bad at it especially if I'm new to the game and they don't know that. I still get uncomfortable with it sometimes and you couldn't even pay me to play on a team with strangers in case I perform badly and they hate me. Or like I started playing this game recently where ideally you need to speak to other people and make connections to progress, and you'll inevitably get SOME messages out of the blue. I literally just ignore everyone because I don't want them to judge how I word my reply. They don't even know who I am, why do I care???
It's definitely an uncertainty issue because I'm looking for a job rn and while I'd rather die than do an interview, I can't even answer the phone when they call me to schedule one. I just panic and feel sick and then I sit for a few days with a voicemail asking me to call back but I just can't do it. There is almost 0 risk if I end up saying something wrong on the call, but the idea that they might ask me questions on the call absolutely terrifies me. If I do call back, I have to research everything about the company and job just in case they ask me anything (they never do lol).
I did have a girlfriend who I actually didn't feel anxious around at all, and it was really nice to have those relaxed conversations and just be comfortable around someone. But we broke up and now she's another source of rumination and anxiety which is really unfortunate.
I had 20 weeks of therapy for anxiety that helped me to spot my anxious thoughts, but it hasn't really helped me get rid of them. I just know they're there.
I don't know what to do when I feel absolutely horrific every time an interaction isn't completely perfect. And my brain will always find something wrong with it and gives me a reason to avoid more interactions ever.
submitted by whatsablurryface21 to Anxiety [link] [comments]
I have a lot of general anxiety and extreme rumination issues and things like that, but I also am never comfortable speaking to anyone. I'm able to do basic going-outside things but I'm still really uncomfortable doing it and obsess over every interaction for days afterwards. Still thinking about 4 days ago when a guy asked me to hold the bus for him and I turned around and just waved/pointed to the driver and he shrugged and drove off and I had to feel awkward af for not knowing what to do and not getting him to stop. I have another one from about 3 weeks ago that I still think about... It's the same with phone calls, and generally I don't go outside or even leave my room unless I need to.
Even speaking to my family makes me uncomfortable and I never know what to say and get exhausted really quickly from it. I just have this constant vibration of anxiety at the fact that I will probably have to see or speak to a person soon.
One thing that makes me really mad is actually the issues with speaking online or playing online games. It took me until last year to play fortnite because I get uncomfortable being observed in games, I don't want people to think I'm dumb or I'm bad at it especially if I'm new to the game and they don't know that. I still get uncomfortable with it sometimes and you couldn't even pay me to play on a team with strangers in case I perform badly and they hate me. Or like I started playing this game recently where ideally you need to speak to other people and make connections to progress, and you'll inevitably get SOME messages out of the blue. I literally just ignore everyone because I don't want them to judge how I word my reply. They don't even know who I am, why do I care???
It's definitely an uncertainty issue because I'm looking for a job rn and while I'd rather die than do an interview, I can't even answer the phone when they call me to schedule one. I just panic and feel sick and then I sit for a few days with a voicemail asking me to call back but I just can't do it. There is almost 0 risk if I end up saying something wrong on the call, but the idea that they might ask me questions on the call absolutely terrifies me. If I do call back, I have to research everything about the company and job just in case they ask me anything (they never do lol).
I did have a girlfriend who I actually didn't feel anxious around at all, and it was really nice to have those relaxed conversations and just be comfortable around someone. But we broke up and now she's another source of rumination and anxiety which is really unfortunate.
I had 20 weeks of therapy for anxiety that helped me to spot my anxious thoughts, but it hasn't really helped me get rid of them. I just know they're there.
I don't know what to do when I feel absolutely horrific every time an interaction isn't completely perfect. And my brain will always find something wrong with it and gives me a reason to avoid more interactions ever.
2024.06.01 09:00 Khaijentry12 Rose: Fear Your World - Chapter 1: Rose Among Any Other
Finn Tresscoat, a 20-year-old with short dark brown hair, brown eyes, and a pale complexion, strolled down the sidewalk of his small town. He wore a light brown leather jacket over a black shirt, paired with black jeans and black-and-white sneakers.
As Finn ambled along, he glanced at the many shops lining the main road of the town's bustling center. He wasn't searching for anything in particular; he simply wanted to enjoy the rare day off from his job, one of the most perilous occupations in the United West (U.W.).
"Finn! Oh, Finn!"
Finn turned his head to the right and spotted Ms. Tori Elortor, or simply Ms. Tori as he called her. She was an older lady in her early fifties, though her youthful appearance often surprised the townsfolk. With long white hair cascading down her back, pale skin, and bright hazel eyes, she was a striking figure. Today, she wore a navy blue sundress over a pair of tight blue jeans and brown cowboy boots.
Ms. Tori, the local bakery owner, was considered quite attractive and often caught the eye of the younger men in town. Her curvaceous figure and active lifestyle, including regular yoga sessions in the park, only added to her allure. However, Finn saw her differently. Having known her since childhood and feeling like part of her family, he saw her as a maternal figure rather than anything else. He was also close to her son, Eric, feeling like an older brother to him.
Despite his demanding job, which kept him busy for nearly twenty-four-seven, Finn always tried to visit Ms. Tori and Eric whenever he could. Today was a rare opportunity for him to relax and reconnect.
"Ah, hi Ms. Tori! How are you today?" Finn greeted her with a warm smile.
Ms. Tori returned his smile. "I'm just fine, Finn. The real question is, how are you? I haven't seen you in months!" Her tone shifted to one of concern. "I was worried, and so was Eric. You do have quite a dangerous job for someone so young," she added.
What kind of dangerous job did Finn have, you might ask?
Well, Finn was a "Gaunt Hunter," a member of a specialized group tasked with safeguarding the small towns outside the major cities in the United West from creatures known as Gaunts.
These slim, humanoid creatures had leathery black skin, no eyes or nose, and wide mouths that drooled a strange dark green liquid. They had emerged after the cataclysmic "Decade of Winter."
The Gaunts varied in form and capability. Some were very muscular, while others had bat-like wings, allowing them to fly. They were also cunning, often creating weapons from scavenged materials and hunting in packs.
Disturbingly, these were just the common variants.
There were tales of Gaunts resembling animals and some that could even speak, though Finn himself had never encountered such anomalies.
Despite the ominous title of Gaunt Hunter, Finn's role wasn't as glamorous as one might imagine.
He wasn't a high-tech, gadget-wielding hero. Gaunt Hunters received training similar to regular police officers, focusing on the use of firearms. However, since firearms were not commonly traded or shipped to the smaller towns outside the major cities, Gaunt Hunters were also taught to wield swords, knives, and other melee weapons, as well as trained in close-range combat.
Finn had been trained to fire a pistol but also learned to fight with a machete, which was more practical for their needs than a traditional sword. On duty, he carried a standard-issue Glock-17 and a machete strapped to his side. He also wore the standard protective gear issued to United West Security Forces (UWSF) officers.
Returning to the conversation with Ms. Tori, Finn let out a lighthearted chuckle. "Dangerous for most of the veterans on the job, but I'm young and fit! Practically invincible!" he said with a grin.
Ms. Tori gave Finn an unimpressed look, raising an eyebrow. "Is that right?" she asked. "Then what's this I hear about a Gaunt nearly taking your head off just last week?"
Finn's face flushed with embarrassment as he recalled the incident. A Gaunt had caught him off guard and nearly decapitated him with a makeshift axe. "Okay... yeah, fair enough," he admitted, looking down.
Ms. Tori's expression softened, and she gave him a few light taps on the shoulder. "Oh, I'm not trying to make you feel bad, Finn, I'm just reminding you that your job is dangerous… You need to be careful," she said gently.
Finn looked up at her and nodded. "I know, and thank you for caring," he replied. Inwardly, he thought, 'It's not like anyone else does'
"Of course, I care, Finn," Ms. Tori said firmly. "Do you know how devastated I'd be if you got hurt or, heaven forbid, died? I'd be heartbroken,” she told him. “Eric would be even worse off, after all, who would play with him?"
Finn felt a wave of warmth at her words. Despite not wanting to worry Ms. Tori or Eric, it was comforting to know there were people who cared about him, and who wanted him to stay safe and come back home. "I guess you're right," he said with a soft smile. "I'll try to be more careful out there, I promise,”
Ms. Tori nodded, her smile lingering. "Good,” she said. “Now, how many days do you have off?" she asked.
"Not many," Finn replied with a sigh. "Just today,"
Ms. Tori's eyes widened in shock. "Only today? Why?" She asked.
Finn's expression turned serious. "Many of the other Gaunt Hunters are either dead, retiring, or switching to become cops... There are only ten of us left in the entire town,"
Ms. Tori's eyes widened in horror. Gaunt Hunters were the primary defense against the Gaunts. The law across the U.W. dictated that local law enforcement dealt with human issues, leaving Gaunt-related threats to the Hunters. The thought of their numbers dwindling was terrifying.
Each town was supposed to have a contingent of Gaunt Hunters, given that small towns were the primary targets for Gaunt attacks.
Major cities, in contrast, rarely had to deal with Gaunts.
The dense populations of these urban centers acted as a deterrent, scaring off most Gaunt packs. Even if a small group of Gaunts did manage to attack, the cities were equipped with heavy weaponry and advanced defenses, making Gaunt Hunters unnecessary there.
This starkly contrasted with the dire need for Gaunt Hunters in the smaller, more vulnerable towns.
Ideally, each small town would have around fifty Gaunt Hunters, a number intended to ensure adequate protection against the Gaunt threat. However, the reality was far grimmer. The inherent dangers and heavy responsibilities associated with the job dissuaded many from becoming Gaunt Hunters. The perilous nature of the work, combined with the constant threat of death, resulted in a severe shortage of recruits.
As a result, the numbers in many towns had dwindled alarmingly.
"Only ten?" she repeated her voice barely above a whisper. "That's... alarming… What happens if more Gaunts come?"
"We do our best," Finn said, trying to sound confident. "But it's tough… Every day, we’re stretched thinner,"
Ms. Tori took a deep breath, trying to process the gravity of the situation.
Finn felt a lump in his throat. "I promise, Ms. Tori. I'll do everything I can to stay safe," he said, trying to remind her if his promise mere moments ago.
Ms. Tori wanted to argue with Finn's comment, but deep down, she knew he was somewhat right. The town was struggling—trade had slowed to a trickle, and many residents had moved away. The constant threat of Gaunt attacks made living there increasingly untenable. Even Ms. Tori had considered leaving to ensure Eric’s safety and to give him a chance to grow up in a more stable environment where he could interact with other children and experience the broader world.
However, she couldn’t bring herself to leave.
Her late husband was buried in this town, and even though years had passed since his death, she felt tied to the place where he rested. She had loved this town deeply, and in a way, staying felt like keeping a part of him alive.
Seeing the conflict in her eyes, Finn decided to change the subject. "Hey, why don't I come over for dinner?" he suggested with a soft smile. "I'm sure Eric would be happy to see me after so long,”
Ms. Tori was pulled out of her thoughts by his offer. She smiled, grateful for his willingness to spend his rare day off with them. "That would be lovely, Finn," she said with a quick nod.
They walked together to Ms. Tori's home, a modest three-bedroom house with a large attic. Inside, they found Eric sitting in front of the TV, watching cartoons. Hearing Finn’s voice, Eric turned, his face lighting up with excitement. He jumped out of his seat and ran to give Finn a hug.
Eric was about 11 years old, with brown hair like his deceased father but hazel eyes like his mother. He was wearing a dark black and blue striped shirt, dark gray pants, and black slip-on shoes.
Finn hugged him back, smiling. "I've got some stories to tell over dinner," he said, which made Eric's eyes sparkle with anticipation.
He loved hearing about the world beyond their town, even if it was mostly filled with woods and the ruins of an old world.
Finn then followed Ms. Tori into the kitchen to help prepare dinner. He found what he could and handed the items to her, glad to be of assistance. Ms. Tori thanked him and asked if he could help chop vegetables, which he was more than happy to do.
As they worked side by side, Ms. Tori glanced at Finn, her expression a mix of gratitude and concern. "You know, Finn, this town means a lot to me,” she told him “It’s where I built my life with my husband, and it’s where I want Eric to grow up, despite everything,"
Finn nodded, understanding the deep attachment she had. "I get it, Ms. Tori. This place has a lot of memories, and as long as I'm here, I'll do my best to keep it safe for you and Eric,"
Ms. Tori smiled warmly. "I know you will, Finn... Thank you,”
Dinner was a warm, lively affair. Eric listened intently to Finn’s stories, hanging on every word. The laughter and conversation filled the small home, creating a moment of normalcy amidst the chaos of their world. For a brief time, the threats outside seemed distant, and they enjoyed the simple pleasure of being together.
After a few bites, Eric looked at Finn eagerly. "Can you tell me one of your stories, Finn?" he asked, his eyes bright with anticipation.
Finn nodded, swallowing a mouthful of food. "Well, a couple of days ago, I was out with two or three other Hunters, we had just finished fighting off a few Gaunts, once they were dealt with, we decided to explore the area since it was the site of an old abandoned amusement park,” he began. “Some of the rides were still standing, though most were broken and destroyed, it was interesting to see the tech they used to have back then," Finn recounted.
Eric's eyes widened with excitement. "Wow! That's awesome!" he exclaimed.
Finn grinned. "It was pretty cool, but it’s nothing compared to some of the parks I saw in Salton Lake City! Those places are amazing,"
Eric's eyes gleamed at the mention of the nearby city. "Man, I want to go there someday!" he said enthusiastically. "Maybe when I start my training to be a Gaunt Hunter," he added with a big smile.
Finn chuckled. "So, you want to be a Gaunt Hunter, huh?" he asked. "You think you’ve got what it takes?"
Eric nodded vigorously. "Uh-huh! I know I can be a Gaunt Hunter! I bet I can even be better than you!" he declared, pointing at Finn.
Finn raised an eyebrow, amused. "Oh really?" he said. "Who's to say I'm not the best of the best, huh?"
Eric gave him a smug smirk. "Because if you were the best Hunter, you'd have already gotten rid of all the Gaunts!" he said confidently.
Finn chuckled. "Well, you got me there," he admitted. "But hey, if you think you can be the best and get rid of all the Gaunts, then I say go for it, dude."
Eric chuckled and resumed eating, his enthusiasm undimmed. Ms. Tori watched the two with a fond smile, marveling at the brotherly bond between them. It warmed her heart to see how close they had become. She knew that Finn cherished this connection just as much as Eric did, especially since Finn had grown up without a family of his own, raised in the local orphanage.
She recalled those early days when a young Finn would walk into the bakery, clutching a few coins. His eyes would light up with wonder at the sight of the treats and goodies lining the shelves. Something about him had touched her heart, and she began offering him free treats for him and the other orphans whenever he visited. Her late husband had also taken a liking to Finn, treating him like the son they never had. When Finn decided to become a Gaunt Hunter, it was her husband who had helped him prepare for the rigorous training, getting him into shape and offering constant encouragement.
After her husband's death, it was Finn who helped her grieve and find the strength to carry on. She had felt terrible about leaning on him during such a hard time, knowing he had his own sadness to deal with, yet he remained steadfast and strong. He had been there for her and for Eric, helping the young boy understand their loss and navigate the difficult times that followed.
She was truly grateful to have Finn in her life.
Suddenly, Finn's phone vibrated insistently in his pocket. He quickly reached for it and saw a text message from work. He opened it, dreading what it might say.
[~Finn, we need you tonight. Jon and Gary quit out of the blue, so we need someone to fill in.~]
Finn sighed, frustration bubbling up inside him. 'Great, now we're down to eight Hunters,' he thought. 'And Jon and Gary were both my age and in better shape than the veterans at the station.'
Ms. Tori noticed the change in his expression and knew immediately what it meant. "Does duty call, Finn?" she asked gently.
Finn nodded, his expression weary. "Yeah, looks like Jon and Gary quit. They need me to cover tonight."
Ms. Tori sighed, placing a comforting hand on his arm. "I'm sorry, Finn. I know how much you were looking forward to some time off."
"It's alright," Finn said, forcing a smile. "I knew it was a long shot anyway. The town needs all the help it can get."
Eric looked up, concern etched on his young face. "Do you have to go, Finn?"
Finn ruffled the boy's hair affectionately. "Yeah, buddy. Duty calls. But I'll be back, and we’ll have more stories to share. I promise."
Ms. Tori gave him a supportive nod. "Just promise us you'll stay safe, Finn."
"I will," Finn assured her. He stood up, preparing to leave. "Thanks for dinner, Ms. Tori. It was great, as always."
As he left the warm, comforting atmosphere of Ms. Tori's home and headed out into the cold night, Finn felt a renewed sense of purpose. Despite the exhaustion and the ever-present danger, he knew he had to keep fighting. For the town, for Eric, and for the memory of the man who had helped him become who he was.
Once at the station, Finn entered and immediately spotted Dick Cortez, a veteran Gaunt Hunter who had been safeguarding the town for as long as Finn could remember. Dick, now in his 50s, had graying hair, deep-set wrinkles, and perpetually tired eyes. He was wearing the standard-issue armor that all Gaunt Hunters received, though each Hunter was allowed to customize their armor with different colors and modifications.
Dick's armor consisted of a high-collar black shirt beneath a modified, pure black chest plate that covered his upper abdomen, along with similarly-colored bracers. Both the chest plate and bracers were trimmed with white and featured matching shoulder pads. He also wore gloves with small metal plating on the fingers, dark navy jeans, black and white metal knee pads, and dark brown boots.
Dick noticed Finn and offered a small smile. "Heya, Finn," he greeted.
"Hey yourself, Dick," Finn replied with a nod.
"Sorry about having to bring you in on your day off," Dick said, his tone genuinely apologetic.
Finn walked over to his locker, where his armor and weapons were stored. He glanced at Dick and shrugged, giving a small smile. "It's alright, Dick. I understand why, and I'm not angry—well, not at you, but at those two," Finn said, referring to Jon and Gary.
Dick nodded in understanding. "Trust me, I'm disappointed in them too, but I can see why they left so suddenly," he said.
Finn nodded back, opening his locker to reveal his armor. His armor was similar to Dick's but differed in color and the clothing underneath. Finn wore his usual attire beneath the armor, which consisted of a dark brown chest plate trimmed with black, matching bracers, shoulder pads, knee pads, and gloves.
He took the armor out and quickly dressed, securing the pieces in place. He then grabbed his Glock and its holster, strapping it around his waist, and added his machete in its sheath. Once fully suited up, he turned to Dick with a raised brow. "Which side of town am I patrolling tonight?"
"Outer wall, west side," Dick stated, his voice firm.
Finn nodded, mentally preparing himself for the task ahead. The west side of the outer wall was notorious for Gaunt activity, a hotspot for their attacks. It was going to be a long night.
As he headed out, Dick called after him, "Stay sharp out there, Finn. We can't afford to lose any more good Hunters."
Finn turned back and gave a resolute nod. "I will, Dick. See you in the morning."
Once outside the city, Finn couldn't help but take in the grim sight of the outer wall. It was marred with deep scratches and chips from relentless Gaunt attacks, stained with the dark green goo that dripped from their slavering mouths, and speckled with bloodstains that would never fully wash away. The stark contrast between this battered exterior and the inner walls of the town was striking. Inside, the walls were adorned with chalk drawings from children and vibrant murals from the town's artists. These cheerful images served as a reminder of what he was protecting, and why he had chosen to become a Gaunt Hunter in the first place.
Reaching the west side of the wall, Finn began his patrol, moving back and forth to ensure no Gaunts were attempting to scale the barrier. For now, the night was quiet, and he hoped it would remain that way.
As he walked his beat, his thoughts drifted back to dinner with Eric and the boy's enthusiastic declaration about becoming a Gaunt Hunter. While part of him felt honored by Eric's admiration, another part was deeply troubled. The life of a Hunter was dangerous and filled with horrors that no one should have to witness, let alone a young boy like Eric.
Finn's mind flashed back to a particularly gruesome memory from a past patrol. He and another Hunter had been called to assist in repelling a large pack of Gaunts. They had rushed to the scene, only to find their comrades dead, slaughtered in horrific ways. One Hunter's skull had been cracked open, with Gaunts eating from it as if it were a bowl of grapes. Another Hunter, still alive, was being disemboweled and devoured. Finn could never forget the man's agonized expression as he watched his own entrails being torn apart and consumed. The sight had been so revolting that Finn had vomited on the spot, paralyzed by shock until his partner snapped him back to reality.
Then there were the stories he had heard from veterans like Dick. Dick once recounted an incident where a Hunter had been speared to death by multiple Gaunts. They hadn't even eaten him; they had just impaled him repeatedly, leaving his body to rot in the woods for days. Such tales highlighted the Gaunts' malevolence and complete lack of empathy.
Finn shuddered at the memories. He didn't want Eric to face such nightmares. The boy was full of life and potential, and Finn couldn't bear the thought of him enduring the same horrors he had.
Since that harrowing incident and the chilling story Dick had shared, Finn had sworn to himself that he wouldn't meet a similar fate. He vowed to go out fighting, to not end up like those other hunters. He couldn't bear the thought of becoming another victim, especially after what happened to his sister.
The sudden howl nearby jolted Finn out of his grim thoughts. The sound was close—too close. Instantly alert, he scanned his surroundings. Just then, something whizzed past his face, slicing his cheek. He turned to see a makeshift arrow embedded in the wall. Spinning back around, his heart sank as he saw ten Gaunts emerging from the tree line.
"Shit!" Finn cursed, his eyes widening in horror. This was a dire situation. He quickly drew his Glock and aimed at the advancing creatures. Before he could fire, a sharp pain seared through his left side. He glanced down to see a small dagger lodged in his torso.
'What the hell?' Finn thought, bewildered. 'Did one of the Gaunts throw this?'
"Sorry, but it's nothing personal," a strange voice echoed through the darkness.
Finn's gaze snapped forward, and he saw a figure emerging from the shadows. They wore a long black cloak that seemed to envelop them completely, giving the eerie impression that they were gliding across the ground rather than walking.
The figure approached him, their face obscured by the cloak's hood. "My, you are a handsome young man," they purred in a sultry tone. "Such a fucking shame that my babies must eat. We've been on the run, and they haven't had a chance to rest and eat until we saw you." They giggled, a chilling sound that sent shivers down Finn's spine.
Fear gripped Finn, but he managed to look up at the cloaked figure with a raised brow. "W-Who are you?" he stammered, his voice wavering.
The figure tilted their head slightly as if amused by his question. "Who am I?" they echoed. "I am their mother, their caretaker. I ensure they survive, even if it means feeding them humans like you." The figure leaned closer, and Finn could just make out a twisted smile beneath the hood.
Finn's mind raced. He needed to think of a way out, and fast. The Gaunts were closing in, and he was injured and at a severe disadvantage. Summoning his remaining strength, he clutched his Glock tighter and tried to steady his breath. He couldn't let this be the end.
The figure's giggle echoed eerily through the night, sending a shiver down Finn's spine. "Oh! Now I'm regretting stabbing you," they remarked with a twisted amusement. "It's not every day a handsome young man asks me my name, you know? Most prefer a no-name policy." Their tone was cryptic, and Finn couldn't shake the feeling of unease that settled in his gut. "While I would love to give you my name in far better circumstances, I'm afraid I don't have the time," they continued, their words dripping with urgency. "As I said, we're on the run from a rather unpleasant girl."
Finn's confusion only deepened. The figure's response didn't provide any clarity, leaving him even more perplexed. As the figure began to back away, Finn's eyes widened in shock as the Gaunts beside them moved in unison. ‘She can... control them!?’ he realized, disbelief washing over him.
"Go ahead, babies... EAT!" the figure commanded, her voice chillingly calm.
With a sickening lurch in his stomach, Finn watched as the Gaunts surged forward, their hunger palpable in the air. Determination surged within him, driving him to fight against the odds stacked against him. Ignoring the searing pain from his wound, he raised his gun and fired at the approaching Gaunts. Despite his efforts, only one was hit, and even then, it didn't slow down.
Finn gritted his teeth, preparing for the inevitable close-quarter battle with the monsters. "Come on!" he growled defiantly. "I'm right here!"
The Gaunts closed in, their predatory instincts driving them forward. Just as they leaped toward him, ready to strike, something unexpected occurred.
Thorny vines erupted from the ground, snaking around the Gaunts with incredible speed. Finn's eyes widened in astonishment as the vines ensnared the creatures, halting their advance. The vines twisted and contorted, slamming the Gaunts into the ground with brutal force, tearing at their flesh and rendering them helpless.
" Damn! How did that bitch already find us!?" the figure exclaimed, frustration evident in their voice.
Finn's gaze followed the figure's gaze as a new figure emerged from the shadows.
Her appearance was striking, to say the least. With a spiky red Mohawk and piercing red eyes devoid of any white, she exuded an aura of fierce determination. Smudged mascara framed her intense gaze, adding to her wild and untamed appearance. Her lips were painted black, a stark contrast to her fiery red hair and eyes. Clad in a black leather crop top vest that accentuated her slim, athletic frame, she exuded an air of defiance. Arm bands encircled her wrists and biceps, resembling the wraps worn by boxers, hinting at her combat prowess. Around her neck, she wore a large choker, adding to her rebellious demeanor. Her attire was completed by tight leather pants and high-heeled platform boots, giving her an imposing presence.
"Found you, ya freaking cunt!" she spat, her voice laced with venom.
The cloaked figure retreated, increasing the distance between them and the girl. "Ugh, don't you ever give up?" they retorted, their tone tinged with irritation.
The girl leveled a fierce glare at the figure. "After the shit you've done!? I ain't letting you go!" she declared, her voice dripping with disdain.
The figure let out a mocking giggle. "Is that so?" they taunted, gesturing toward Finn who lay wounded on the ground. "Not even to save his life?"
The girl's gaze shifted to Finn, her expression softening momentarily as she registered his injuries. Before she could react, a shrill howl pierced the air, drawing their attention back to the figure.
"What the hell did you do!?" the girl demanded, her voice trembling with rage.
"Oh, just called in a few friends over for dinner," the figure replied casually.
"You bitch!" the girl seethed.
With a swift motion, she thrust her hand forward, summoning a massive vine with thorns protruding from its surface. The vine lunged toward the figure, but they evaded the attack with agile grace, darting away through the forest.
"Have fun~!" they taunted, their laughter echoing through the trees as they disappeared into the darkness.
Driven by determination, the girl pursued the figure, her footsteps echoing through the forest. However, her path was suddenly obstructed as a horde of Gaunts emerged from the shadows, blocking her way with menacing snarls and bared teeth.
"Get out of my way!" the girl cried, her voice ringing with determination.
In an instant, a smaller thorned vine shot out of the ground with startling speed, piercing through the approaching Gaunts like a bullet. Lifted into the air by the force of the vine, the creatures were hurled aside, crashing into trees with bone-crushing force.
As more Gaunts emerged from the shadows behind her, four shots echoed through the air. Finn's aim was true, striking the advancing Gaunts and causing them to writhe in agony as they fell to the ground. The girl glanced back to see Finn's timely intervention, offering a silent nod of acknowledgment before focusing her attention back on the remaining threats. Summoning more vines, she ensnared the creatures, tearing them apart with ruthless efficiency.
Satisfied that the immediate danger had passed, the girl turned back towards Finn, who was now sitting against the wall, applying pressure to his wound.
Bending down beside him, the girl flashed a smile, revealing sharp triangular teeth reminiscent of a shark. "Nice shooting there, dude. Really saved my ass back there," she remarked.
Finn managed a weak chuckle. "I should be thanking you. If you hadn't shown up, I'd be Gaunt food," he admitted.
"Let's call it even, then, eh?" she suggested. "What's your name?" she inquired.
Finn met her gaze, taking a moment to catch his breath before responding. "Finn, Finn Tresscoat," he introduced himself. Curiosity burning in his eyes, he posed a question in return. "Who are you? No... What are you?" he asked, unable to shake off the mystery surrounding her.
The girl maintained her enigmatic smile, meeting his gaze with her striking red eyes. "The name's Rachel Rose," she revealed. "As for what I am, well... I can answer that once you're all patched up," she added cryptically.
Summoning another vine, Rachel gently lifted Finn to his feet, supporting him as they began to make their way back towards town. With each step, Finn's mind buzzed with questions, the mysteries surrounding Rachel and her abilities swirling in his thoughts. Who was the cloaked figure? How did they control the Gaunts? And most pressing of all, who—or what—was Rachel, and how was she able to command those vines with such ease?
As they walked back toward town, Finn couldn't help but feel the weight of exhaustion settle upon him, both physically and mentally. His thoughts swirled with questions about the events that had just transpired—about Rachel, the cloaked figure, and the unsettling abilities they both possessed. Yet, amidst the chaos of his mind, one pressing question emerged, demanding attention above all else.
'When the hell am I gonna get another day off? Because I can sure as hell use it right now...!' Finn thought to himself, his weariness palpable.
Rachel, walking beside him, seemed to sense his inner turmoil. Casting him a sidelong glance, she offered a reassuring smile. "Don't worry, Finn. You'll have your chance to rest soon," she assured him, her voice carrying a note of empathy.
Finn managed a weary smile in return, grateful for the reassurance. Despite the gravity of their situation, her words offered a glimmer of hope amidst the uncertainty that loomed over them…
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As Finn ambled along, he glanced at the many shops lining the main road of the town's bustling center. He wasn't searching for anything in particular; he simply wanted to enjoy the rare day off from his job, one of the most perilous occupations in the United West (U.W.).
"Finn! Oh, Finn!"
Finn turned his head to the right and spotted Ms. Tori Elortor, or simply Ms. Tori as he called her. She was an older lady in her early fifties, though her youthful appearance often surprised the townsfolk. With long white hair cascading down her back, pale skin, and bright hazel eyes, she was a striking figure. Today, she wore a navy blue sundress over a pair of tight blue jeans and brown cowboy boots.
Ms. Tori, the local bakery owner, was considered quite attractive and often caught the eye of the younger men in town. Her curvaceous figure and active lifestyle, including regular yoga sessions in the park, only added to her allure. However, Finn saw her differently. Having known her since childhood and feeling like part of her family, he saw her as a maternal figure rather than anything else. He was also close to her son, Eric, feeling like an older brother to him.
Despite his demanding job, which kept him busy for nearly twenty-four-seven, Finn always tried to visit Ms. Tori and Eric whenever he could. Today was a rare opportunity for him to relax and reconnect.
"Ah, hi Ms. Tori! How are you today?" Finn greeted her with a warm smile.
Ms. Tori returned his smile. "I'm just fine, Finn. The real question is, how are you? I haven't seen you in months!" Her tone shifted to one of concern. "I was worried, and so was Eric. You do have quite a dangerous job for someone so young," she added.
What kind of dangerous job did Finn have, you might ask?
Well, Finn was a "Gaunt Hunter," a member of a specialized group tasked with safeguarding the small towns outside the major cities in the United West from creatures known as Gaunts.
These slim, humanoid creatures had leathery black skin, no eyes or nose, and wide mouths that drooled a strange dark green liquid. They had emerged after the cataclysmic "Decade of Winter."
The Gaunts varied in form and capability. Some were very muscular, while others had bat-like wings, allowing them to fly. They were also cunning, often creating weapons from scavenged materials and hunting in packs.
Disturbingly, these were just the common variants.
There were tales of Gaunts resembling animals and some that could even speak, though Finn himself had never encountered such anomalies.
Despite the ominous title of Gaunt Hunter, Finn's role wasn't as glamorous as one might imagine.
He wasn't a high-tech, gadget-wielding hero. Gaunt Hunters received training similar to regular police officers, focusing on the use of firearms. However, since firearms were not commonly traded or shipped to the smaller towns outside the major cities, Gaunt Hunters were also taught to wield swords, knives, and other melee weapons, as well as trained in close-range combat.
Finn had been trained to fire a pistol but also learned to fight with a machete, which was more practical for their needs than a traditional sword. On duty, he carried a standard-issue Glock-17 and a machete strapped to his side. He also wore the standard protective gear issued to United West Security Forces (UWSF) officers.
Returning to the conversation with Ms. Tori, Finn let out a lighthearted chuckle. "Dangerous for most of the veterans on the job, but I'm young and fit! Practically invincible!" he said with a grin.
Ms. Tori gave Finn an unimpressed look, raising an eyebrow. "Is that right?" she asked. "Then what's this I hear about a Gaunt nearly taking your head off just last week?"
Finn's face flushed with embarrassment as he recalled the incident. A Gaunt had caught him off guard and nearly decapitated him with a makeshift axe. "Okay... yeah, fair enough," he admitted, looking down.
Ms. Tori's expression softened, and she gave him a few light taps on the shoulder. "Oh, I'm not trying to make you feel bad, Finn, I'm just reminding you that your job is dangerous… You need to be careful," she said gently.
Finn looked up at her and nodded. "I know, and thank you for caring," he replied. Inwardly, he thought, 'It's not like anyone else does'
"Of course, I care, Finn," Ms. Tori said firmly. "Do you know how devastated I'd be if you got hurt or, heaven forbid, died? I'd be heartbroken,” she told him. “Eric would be even worse off, after all, who would play with him?"
Finn felt a wave of warmth at her words. Despite not wanting to worry Ms. Tori or Eric, it was comforting to know there were people who cared about him, and who wanted him to stay safe and come back home. "I guess you're right," he said with a soft smile. "I'll try to be more careful out there, I promise,”
Ms. Tori nodded, her smile lingering. "Good,” she said. “Now, how many days do you have off?" she asked.
"Not many," Finn replied with a sigh. "Just today,"
Ms. Tori's eyes widened in shock. "Only today? Why?" She asked.
Finn's expression turned serious. "Many of the other Gaunt Hunters are either dead, retiring, or switching to become cops... There are only ten of us left in the entire town,"
Ms. Tori's eyes widened in horror. Gaunt Hunters were the primary defense against the Gaunts. The law across the U.W. dictated that local law enforcement dealt with human issues, leaving Gaunt-related threats to the Hunters. The thought of their numbers dwindling was terrifying.
Each town was supposed to have a contingent of Gaunt Hunters, given that small towns were the primary targets for Gaunt attacks.
Major cities, in contrast, rarely had to deal with Gaunts.
The dense populations of these urban centers acted as a deterrent, scaring off most Gaunt packs. Even if a small group of Gaunts did manage to attack, the cities were equipped with heavy weaponry and advanced defenses, making Gaunt Hunters unnecessary there.
This starkly contrasted with the dire need for Gaunt Hunters in the smaller, more vulnerable towns.
Ideally, each small town would have around fifty Gaunt Hunters, a number intended to ensure adequate protection against the Gaunt threat. However, the reality was far grimmer. The inherent dangers and heavy responsibilities associated with the job dissuaded many from becoming Gaunt Hunters. The perilous nature of the work, combined with the constant threat of death, resulted in a severe shortage of recruits.
As a result, the numbers in many towns had dwindled alarmingly.
"Only ten?" she repeated her voice barely above a whisper. "That's... alarming… What happens if more Gaunts come?"
"We do our best," Finn said, trying to sound confident. "But it's tough… Every day, we’re stretched thinner,"
Ms. Tori took a deep breath, trying to process the gravity of the situation.
Finn felt a lump in his throat. "I promise, Ms. Tori. I'll do everything I can to stay safe," he said, trying to remind her if his promise mere moments ago.
Ms. Tori wanted to argue with Finn's comment, but deep down, she knew he was somewhat right. The town was struggling—trade had slowed to a trickle, and many residents had moved away. The constant threat of Gaunt attacks made living there increasingly untenable. Even Ms. Tori had considered leaving to ensure Eric’s safety and to give him a chance to grow up in a more stable environment where he could interact with other children and experience the broader world.
However, she couldn’t bring herself to leave.
Her late husband was buried in this town, and even though years had passed since his death, she felt tied to the place where he rested. She had loved this town deeply, and in a way, staying felt like keeping a part of him alive.
Seeing the conflict in her eyes, Finn decided to change the subject. "Hey, why don't I come over for dinner?" he suggested with a soft smile. "I'm sure Eric would be happy to see me after so long,”
Ms. Tori was pulled out of her thoughts by his offer. She smiled, grateful for his willingness to spend his rare day off with them. "That would be lovely, Finn," she said with a quick nod.
They walked together to Ms. Tori's home, a modest three-bedroom house with a large attic. Inside, they found Eric sitting in front of the TV, watching cartoons. Hearing Finn’s voice, Eric turned, his face lighting up with excitement. He jumped out of his seat and ran to give Finn a hug.
Eric was about 11 years old, with brown hair like his deceased father but hazel eyes like his mother. He was wearing a dark black and blue striped shirt, dark gray pants, and black slip-on shoes.
Finn hugged him back, smiling. "I've got some stories to tell over dinner," he said, which made Eric's eyes sparkle with anticipation.
He loved hearing about the world beyond their town, even if it was mostly filled with woods and the ruins of an old world.
Finn then followed Ms. Tori into the kitchen to help prepare dinner. He found what he could and handed the items to her, glad to be of assistance. Ms. Tori thanked him and asked if he could help chop vegetables, which he was more than happy to do.
As they worked side by side, Ms. Tori glanced at Finn, her expression a mix of gratitude and concern. "You know, Finn, this town means a lot to me,” she told him “It’s where I built my life with my husband, and it’s where I want Eric to grow up, despite everything,"
Finn nodded, understanding the deep attachment she had. "I get it, Ms. Tori. This place has a lot of memories, and as long as I'm here, I'll do my best to keep it safe for you and Eric,"
Ms. Tori smiled warmly. "I know you will, Finn... Thank you,”
Dinner was a warm, lively affair. Eric listened intently to Finn’s stories, hanging on every word. The laughter and conversation filled the small home, creating a moment of normalcy amidst the chaos of their world. For a brief time, the threats outside seemed distant, and they enjoyed the simple pleasure of being together.
After a few bites, Eric looked at Finn eagerly. "Can you tell me one of your stories, Finn?" he asked, his eyes bright with anticipation.
Finn nodded, swallowing a mouthful of food. "Well, a couple of days ago, I was out with two or three other Hunters, we had just finished fighting off a few Gaunts, once they were dealt with, we decided to explore the area since it was the site of an old abandoned amusement park,” he began. “Some of the rides were still standing, though most were broken and destroyed, it was interesting to see the tech they used to have back then," Finn recounted.
Eric's eyes widened with excitement. "Wow! That's awesome!" he exclaimed.
Finn grinned. "It was pretty cool, but it’s nothing compared to some of the parks I saw in Salton Lake City! Those places are amazing,"
Eric's eyes gleamed at the mention of the nearby city. "Man, I want to go there someday!" he said enthusiastically. "Maybe when I start my training to be a Gaunt Hunter," he added with a big smile.
Finn chuckled. "So, you want to be a Gaunt Hunter, huh?" he asked. "You think you’ve got what it takes?"
Eric nodded vigorously. "Uh-huh! I know I can be a Gaunt Hunter! I bet I can even be better than you!" he declared, pointing at Finn.
Finn raised an eyebrow, amused. "Oh really?" he said. "Who's to say I'm not the best of the best, huh?"
Eric gave him a smug smirk. "Because if you were the best Hunter, you'd have already gotten rid of all the Gaunts!" he said confidently.
Finn chuckled. "Well, you got me there," he admitted. "But hey, if you think you can be the best and get rid of all the Gaunts, then I say go for it, dude."
Eric chuckled and resumed eating, his enthusiasm undimmed. Ms. Tori watched the two with a fond smile, marveling at the brotherly bond between them. It warmed her heart to see how close they had become. She knew that Finn cherished this connection just as much as Eric did, especially since Finn had grown up without a family of his own, raised in the local orphanage.
She recalled those early days when a young Finn would walk into the bakery, clutching a few coins. His eyes would light up with wonder at the sight of the treats and goodies lining the shelves. Something about him had touched her heart, and she began offering him free treats for him and the other orphans whenever he visited. Her late husband had also taken a liking to Finn, treating him like the son they never had. When Finn decided to become a Gaunt Hunter, it was her husband who had helped him prepare for the rigorous training, getting him into shape and offering constant encouragement.
After her husband's death, it was Finn who helped her grieve and find the strength to carry on. She had felt terrible about leaning on him during such a hard time, knowing he had his own sadness to deal with, yet he remained steadfast and strong. He had been there for her and for Eric, helping the young boy understand their loss and navigate the difficult times that followed.
She was truly grateful to have Finn in her life.
Suddenly, Finn's phone vibrated insistently in his pocket. He quickly reached for it and saw a text message from work. He opened it, dreading what it might say.
[~Finn, we need you tonight. Jon and Gary quit out of the blue, so we need someone to fill in.~]
Finn sighed, frustration bubbling up inside him. 'Great, now we're down to eight Hunters,' he thought. 'And Jon and Gary were both my age and in better shape than the veterans at the station.'
Ms. Tori noticed the change in his expression and knew immediately what it meant. "Does duty call, Finn?" she asked gently.
Finn nodded, his expression weary. "Yeah, looks like Jon and Gary quit. They need me to cover tonight."
Ms. Tori sighed, placing a comforting hand on his arm. "I'm sorry, Finn. I know how much you were looking forward to some time off."
"It's alright," Finn said, forcing a smile. "I knew it was a long shot anyway. The town needs all the help it can get."
Eric looked up, concern etched on his young face. "Do you have to go, Finn?"
Finn ruffled the boy's hair affectionately. "Yeah, buddy. Duty calls. But I'll be back, and we’ll have more stories to share. I promise."
Ms. Tori gave him a supportive nod. "Just promise us you'll stay safe, Finn."
"I will," Finn assured her. He stood up, preparing to leave. "Thanks for dinner, Ms. Tori. It was great, as always."
As he left the warm, comforting atmosphere of Ms. Tori's home and headed out into the cold night, Finn felt a renewed sense of purpose. Despite the exhaustion and the ever-present danger, he knew he had to keep fighting. For the town, for Eric, and for the memory of the man who had helped him become who he was.
Once at the station, Finn entered and immediately spotted Dick Cortez, a veteran Gaunt Hunter who had been safeguarding the town for as long as Finn could remember. Dick, now in his 50s, had graying hair, deep-set wrinkles, and perpetually tired eyes. He was wearing the standard-issue armor that all Gaunt Hunters received, though each Hunter was allowed to customize their armor with different colors and modifications.
Dick's armor consisted of a high-collar black shirt beneath a modified, pure black chest plate that covered his upper abdomen, along with similarly-colored bracers. Both the chest plate and bracers were trimmed with white and featured matching shoulder pads. He also wore gloves with small metal plating on the fingers, dark navy jeans, black and white metal knee pads, and dark brown boots.
Dick noticed Finn and offered a small smile. "Heya, Finn," he greeted.
"Hey yourself, Dick," Finn replied with a nod.
"Sorry about having to bring you in on your day off," Dick said, his tone genuinely apologetic.
Finn walked over to his locker, where his armor and weapons were stored. He glanced at Dick and shrugged, giving a small smile. "It's alright, Dick. I understand why, and I'm not angry—well, not at you, but at those two," Finn said, referring to Jon and Gary.
Dick nodded in understanding. "Trust me, I'm disappointed in them too, but I can see why they left so suddenly," he said.
Finn nodded back, opening his locker to reveal his armor. His armor was similar to Dick's but differed in color and the clothing underneath. Finn wore his usual attire beneath the armor, which consisted of a dark brown chest plate trimmed with black, matching bracers, shoulder pads, knee pads, and gloves.
He took the armor out and quickly dressed, securing the pieces in place. He then grabbed his Glock and its holster, strapping it around his waist, and added his machete in its sheath. Once fully suited up, he turned to Dick with a raised brow. "Which side of town am I patrolling tonight?"
"Outer wall, west side," Dick stated, his voice firm.
Finn nodded, mentally preparing himself for the task ahead. The west side of the outer wall was notorious for Gaunt activity, a hotspot for their attacks. It was going to be a long night.
As he headed out, Dick called after him, "Stay sharp out there, Finn. We can't afford to lose any more good Hunters."
Finn turned back and gave a resolute nod. "I will, Dick. See you in the morning."
Once outside the city, Finn couldn't help but take in the grim sight of the outer wall. It was marred with deep scratches and chips from relentless Gaunt attacks, stained with the dark green goo that dripped from their slavering mouths, and speckled with bloodstains that would never fully wash away. The stark contrast between this battered exterior and the inner walls of the town was striking. Inside, the walls were adorned with chalk drawings from children and vibrant murals from the town's artists. These cheerful images served as a reminder of what he was protecting, and why he had chosen to become a Gaunt Hunter in the first place.
Reaching the west side of the wall, Finn began his patrol, moving back and forth to ensure no Gaunts were attempting to scale the barrier. For now, the night was quiet, and he hoped it would remain that way.
As he walked his beat, his thoughts drifted back to dinner with Eric and the boy's enthusiastic declaration about becoming a Gaunt Hunter. While part of him felt honored by Eric's admiration, another part was deeply troubled. The life of a Hunter was dangerous and filled with horrors that no one should have to witness, let alone a young boy like Eric.
Finn's mind flashed back to a particularly gruesome memory from a past patrol. He and another Hunter had been called to assist in repelling a large pack of Gaunts. They had rushed to the scene, only to find their comrades dead, slaughtered in horrific ways. One Hunter's skull had been cracked open, with Gaunts eating from it as if it were a bowl of grapes. Another Hunter, still alive, was being disemboweled and devoured. Finn could never forget the man's agonized expression as he watched his own entrails being torn apart and consumed. The sight had been so revolting that Finn had vomited on the spot, paralyzed by shock until his partner snapped him back to reality.
Then there were the stories he had heard from veterans like Dick. Dick once recounted an incident where a Hunter had been speared to death by multiple Gaunts. They hadn't even eaten him; they had just impaled him repeatedly, leaving his body to rot in the woods for days. Such tales highlighted the Gaunts' malevolence and complete lack of empathy.
Finn shuddered at the memories. He didn't want Eric to face such nightmares. The boy was full of life and potential, and Finn couldn't bear the thought of him enduring the same horrors he had.
Since that harrowing incident and the chilling story Dick had shared, Finn had sworn to himself that he wouldn't meet a similar fate. He vowed to go out fighting, to not end up like those other hunters. He couldn't bear the thought of becoming another victim, especially after what happened to his sister.
The sudden howl nearby jolted Finn out of his grim thoughts. The sound was close—too close. Instantly alert, he scanned his surroundings. Just then, something whizzed past his face, slicing his cheek. He turned to see a makeshift arrow embedded in the wall. Spinning back around, his heart sank as he saw ten Gaunts emerging from the tree line.
"Shit!" Finn cursed, his eyes widening in horror. This was a dire situation. He quickly drew his Glock and aimed at the advancing creatures. Before he could fire, a sharp pain seared through his left side. He glanced down to see a small dagger lodged in his torso.
'What the hell?' Finn thought, bewildered. 'Did one of the Gaunts throw this?'
"Sorry, but it's nothing personal," a strange voice echoed through the darkness.
Finn's gaze snapped forward, and he saw a figure emerging from the shadows. They wore a long black cloak that seemed to envelop them completely, giving the eerie impression that they were gliding across the ground rather than walking.
The figure approached him, their face obscured by the cloak's hood. "My, you are a handsome young man," they purred in a sultry tone. "Such a fucking shame that my babies must eat. We've been on the run, and they haven't had a chance to rest and eat until we saw you." They giggled, a chilling sound that sent shivers down Finn's spine.
Fear gripped Finn, but he managed to look up at the cloaked figure with a raised brow. "W-Who are you?" he stammered, his voice wavering.
The figure tilted their head slightly as if amused by his question. "Who am I?" they echoed. "I am their mother, their caretaker. I ensure they survive, even if it means feeding them humans like you." The figure leaned closer, and Finn could just make out a twisted smile beneath the hood.
Finn's mind raced. He needed to think of a way out, and fast. The Gaunts were closing in, and he was injured and at a severe disadvantage. Summoning his remaining strength, he clutched his Glock tighter and tried to steady his breath. He couldn't let this be the end.
The figure's giggle echoed eerily through the night, sending a shiver down Finn's spine. "Oh! Now I'm regretting stabbing you," they remarked with a twisted amusement. "It's not every day a handsome young man asks me my name, you know? Most prefer a no-name policy." Their tone was cryptic, and Finn couldn't shake the feeling of unease that settled in his gut. "While I would love to give you my name in far better circumstances, I'm afraid I don't have the time," they continued, their words dripping with urgency. "As I said, we're on the run from a rather unpleasant girl."
Finn's confusion only deepened. The figure's response didn't provide any clarity, leaving him even more perplexed. As the figure began to back away, Finn's eyes widened in shock as the Gaunts beside them moved in unison. ‘She can... control them!?’ he realized, disbelief washing over him.
"Go ahead, babies... EAT!" the figure commanded, her voice chillingly calm.
With a sickening lurch in his stomach, Finn watched as the Gaunts surged forward, their hunger palpable in the air. Determination surged within him, driving him to fight against the odds stacked against him. Ignoring the searing pain from his wound, he raised his gun and fired at the approaching Gaunts. Despite his efforts, only one was hit, and even then, it didn't slow down.
Finn gritted his teeth, preparing for the inevitable close-quarter battle with the monsters. "Come on!" he growled defiantly. "I'm right here!"
The Gaunts closed in, their predatory instincts driving them forward. Just as they leaped toward him, ready to strike, something unexpected occurred.
Thorny vines erupted from the ground, snaking around the Gaunts with incredible speed. Finn's eyes widened in astonishment as the vines ensnared the creatures, halting their advance. The vines twisted and contorted, slamming the Gaunts into the ground with brutal force, tearing at their flesh and rendering them helpless.
" Damn! How did that bitch already find us!?" the figure exclaimed, frustration evident in their voice.
Finn's gaze followed the figure's gaze as a new figure emerged from the shadows.
Her appearance was striking, to say the least. With a spiky red Mohawk and piercing red eyes devoid of any white, she exuded an aura of fierce determination. Smudged mascara framed her intense gaze, adding to her wild and untamed appearance. Her lips were painted black, a stark contrast to her fiery red hair and eyes. Clad in a black leather crop top vest that accentuated her slim, athletic frame, she exuded an air of defiance. Arm bands encircled her wrists and biceps, resembling the wraps worn by boxers, hinting at her combat prowess. Around her neck, she wore a large choker, adding to her rebellious demeanor. Her attire was completed by tight leather pants and high-heeled platform boots, giving her an imposing presence.
"Found you, ya freaking cunt!" she spat, her voice laced with venom.
The cloaked figure retreated, increasing the distance between them and the girl. "Ugh, don't you ever give up?" they retorted, their tone tinged with irritation.
The girl leveled a fierce glare at the figure. "After the shit you've done!? I ain't letting you go!" she declared, her voice dripping with disdain.
The figure let out a mocking giggle. "Is that so?" they taunted, gesturing toward Finn who lay wounded on the ground. "Not even to save his life?"
The girl's gaze shifted to Finn, her expression softening momentarily as she registered his injuries. Before she could react, a shrill howl pierced the air, drawing their attention back to the figure.
"What the hell did you do!?" the girl demanded, her voice trembling with rage.
"Oh, just called in a few friends over for dinner," the figure replied casually.
"You bitch!" the girl seethed.
With a swift motion, she thrust her hand forward, summoning a massive vine with thorns protruding from its surface. The vine lunged toward the figure, but they evaded the attack with agile grace, darting away through the forest.
"Have fun~!" they taunted, their laughter echoing through the trees as they disappeared into the darkness.
Driven by determination, the girl pursued the figure, her footsteps echoing through the forest. However, her path was suddenly obstructed as a horde of Gaunts emerged from the shadows, blocking her way with menacing snarls and bared teeth.
"Get out of my way!" the girl cried, her voice ringing with determination.
In an instant, a smaller thorned vine shot out of the ground with startling speed, piercing through the approaching Gaunts like a bullet. Lifted into the air by the force of the vine, the creatures were hurled aside, crashing into trees with bone-crushing force.
As more Gaunts emerged from the shadows behind her, four shots echoed through the air. Finn's aim was true, striking the advancing Gaunts and causing them to writhe in agony as they fell to the ground. The girl glanced back to see Finn's timely intervention, offering a silent nod of acknowledgment before focusing her attention back on the remaining threats. Summoning more vines, she ensnared the creatures, tearing them apart with ruthless efficiency.
Satisfied that the immediate danger had passed, the girl turned back towards Finn, who was now sitting against the wall, applying pressure to his wound.
Bending down beside him, the girl flashed a smile, revealing sharp triangular teeth reminiscent of a shark. "Nice shooting there, dude. Really saved my ass back there," she remarked.
Finn managed a weak chuckle. "I should be thanking you. If you hadn't shown up, I'd be Gaunt food," he admitted.
"Let's call it even, then, eh?" she suggested. "What's your name?" she inquired.
Finn met her gaze, taking a moment to catch his breath before responding. "Finn, Finn Tresscoat," he introduced himself. Curiosity burning in his eyes, he posed a question in return. "Who are you? No... What are you?" he asked, unable to shake off the mystery surrounding her.
The girl maintained her enigmatic smile, meeting his gaze with her striking red eyes. "The name's Rachel Rose," she revealed. "As for what I am, well... I can answer that once you're all patched up," she added cryptically.
Summoning another vine, Rachel gently lifted Finn to his feet, supporting him as they began to make their way back towards town. With each step, Finn's mind buzzed with questions, the mysteries surrounding Rachel and her abilities swirling in his thoughts. Who was the cloaked figure? How did they control the Gaunts? And most pressing of all, who—or what—was Rachel, and how was she able to command those vines with such ease?
As they walked back toward town, Finn couldn't help but feel the weight of exhaustion settle upon him, both physically and mentally. His thoughts swirled with questions about the events that had just transpired—about Rachel, the cloaked figure, and the unsettling abilities they both possessed. Yet, amidst the chaos of his mind, one pressing question emerged, demanding attention above all else.
'When the hell am I gonna get another day off? Because I can sure as hell use it right now...!' Finn thought to himself, his weariness palpable.
Rachel, walking beside him, seemed to sense his inner turmoil. Casting him a sidelong glance, she offered a reassuring smile. "Don't worry, Finn. You'll have your chance to rest soon," she assured him, her voice carrying a note of empathy.
Finn managed a weary smile in return, grateful for the reassurance. Despite the gravity of their situation, her words offered a glimmer of hope amidst the uncertainty that loomed over them…
2024.06.01 08:54 Revliledpembroke Sweet Old-Fashioned Notion
The summer after Harry's Fourth Year, he had gone to the actual Mad-Eye Moody and begged to be trained in combat, because Voldemort was back and going to attack Harry once again. They trained together, quite brutally for months, and Moody had finally declared Harry to be "adequate." Sirius said that would make Harry a maestro at dueling and wizarding combat, with only the elite levels of magical combatants able to pierce Harry's defenses.
Dumbledore was opposed to the idea of Harry's super intense training, for some strange reason. He came to Harry in private once and tried to convince him that Harry's capacity to love would be what finally be Voldemort's undoing. The Headmaster had even told Harry about some prophecy and a "power the Dark Lord knows not," and how Dumbledore was sure that power was love. Love? Harry had to laugh.
"Love is a powerful force, Professor. But it isn't a weapon in and of itself."
But Moody's praise wasn't good enough for Harry. He needed to push himself further. He convinced Sirius to hire some tutors would had been on the international dueling circuit. These elite combatants (with further help from Moody) helped Harry refine his style to the point of perfection!
But being one of the best combatants in the wizarding world still wasn't enough for Harry. He knew how to fight Voldemort, but he didn't know how to make the man stay dead. And killing him every 13 years or so would be very tedious.
So he "borrowed" Hermione and together with Remus went on a research extravaganza. They plundered libraries across all of Europe - even getting into Durmstrang and the Magical and Philosophical Library at Alexandria. They pushed further into Greece and down into the old Empire of Mali, checking every ancient library still in existence on two continents.
Again, it wasn't enough for Harry. He needed to know more. He had to learn everything possible about whatever it was Voldemort had done to bring himself back to life. So they continued their plundering of ancient troves of knowledge, going into China, Japan, and a few treasure troves preserved in the remains of Aztec, Incan, and Mayan Empires.
With everything raided, they pooled the knowledge and figured out how Voldemort had come back to life, how he had avoided death, and - most importantly of all - how to prevent him from rising again.
After two years of training and researching, Harry was ready to confront the specter hanging over his head for the entirety of his life thus far, and beyond ready to see what life would be like in a post-Voldemort world.
It was surprisingly easy in the end. All Harry had to do was goad Voldemort by attacking his image. "Oh, the Big Bad Dark Lord, scared of a 16 year old boy! Why won't you fight me, oh Dark Lord Tom?!?"
It's amazing how much of a role schoolyard taunts can play in antagonizing people who should most definitely know better than to fall for something so simple. But with Harry laying down the gauntlet, Voldemort could not refuse to pick it up. Not without appearing weak in front of his followers and in the eyes of the public. So Voldemort delivered himself rather neatly into a trap.
The fight was fantastic. Only Dumbledore v Grindelwald's fight a half-century before eclipsed it. The countryside for a thousand yards all around was devastated. Fiery hellholes, poisonous swamps, and even zones of wildly shifting gravity littered England's green and pleasant land.
And, in the end, Harry killed Voldemort, captured the soul fragment, and did the complex ritual necessary to summon all of the soul pieces to one place, and banished them all to Hell where they belonged.
As Harry walked past a dumbfounded Dumbledore, he looked at his Headmaster and said "Love? Heh. Professor, as a wise Muggle singer once said... what's love got to do, got to do with it? What's love, but a second-hand emotion?"
submitted by Revliledpembroke to HPfanfiction [link] [comments]
Dumbledore was opposed to the idea of Harry's super intense training, for some strange reason. He came to Harry in private once and tried to convince him that Harry's capacity to love would be what finally be Voldemort's undoing. The Headmaster had even told Harry about some prophecy and a "power the Dark Lord knows not," and how Dumbledore was sure that power was love. Love? Harry had to laugh.
"Love is a powerful force, Professor. But it isn't a weapon in and of itself."
But Moody's praise wasn't good enough for Harry. He needed to push himself further. He convinced Sirius to hire some tutors would had been on the international dueling circuit. These elite combatants (with further help from Moody) helped Harry refine his style to the point of perfection!
But being one of the best combatants in the wizarding world still wasn't enough for Harry. He knew how to fight Voldemort, but he didn't know how to make the man stay dead. And killing him every 13 years or so would be very tedious.
So he "borrowed" Hermione and together with Remus went on a research extravaganza. They plundered libraries across all of Europe - even getting into Durmstrang and the Magical and Philosophical Library at Alexandria. They pushed further into Greece and down into the old Empire of Mali, checking every ancient library still in existence on two continents.
Again, it wasn't enough for Harry. He needed to know more. He had to learn everything possible about whatever it was Voldemort had done to bring himself back to life. So they continued their plundering of ancient troves of knowledge, going into China, Japan, and a few treasure troves preserved in the remains of Aztec, Incan, and Mayan Empires.
With everything raided, they pooled the knowledge and figured out how Voldemort had come back to life, how he had avoided death, and - most importantly of all - how to prevent him from rising again.
After two years of training and researching, Harry was ready to confront the specter hanging over his head for the entirety of his life thus far, and beyond ready to see what life would be like in a post-Voldemort world.
It was surprisingly easy in the end. All Harry had to do was goad Voldemort by attacking his image. "Oh, the Big Bad Dark Lord, scared of a 16 year old boy! Why won't you fight me, oh Dark Lord Tom?!?"
It's amazing how much of a role schoolyard taunts can play in antagonizing people who should most definitely know better than to fall for something so simple. But with Harry laying down the gauntlet, Voldemort could not refuse to pick it up. Not without appearing weak in front of his followers and in the eyes of the public. So Voldemort delivered himself rather neatly into a trap.
The fight was fantastic. Only Dumbledore v Grindelwald's fight a half-century before eclipsed it. The countryside for a thousand yards all around was devastated. Fiery hellholes, poisonous swamps, and even zones of wildly shifting gravity littered England's green and pleasant land.
And, in the end, Harry killed Voldemort, captured the soul fragment, and did the complex ritual necessary to summon all of the soul pieces to one place, and banished them all to Hell where they belonged.
As Harry walked past a dumbfounded Dumbledore, he looked at his Headmaster and said "Love? Heh. Professor, as a wise Muggle singer once said... what's love got to do, got to do with it? What's love, but a second-hand emotion?"
2024.06.01 08:48 Edwardthecrazyman Hiraeth or Where the Children Play: More and More [19]
First/Previous
Since I knew there was a time before, I’ve wanted it, but that was child’s hope; even as a boy I wanted a dream. I wanted some divine being to enter from heaven and tell us all how it should be, but that wasn’t something I could ever count on—of course. Is there a god? I think so. I’ve seen those things and if they exist, then surely there’s a maker on the other end of it—god made both the light and the dark if the word’s to be believed and all we can hope for is a glimpse of the former. Even for a second.
The streets were soaked with blood and so many artillery rounds were fired into the sky—many I witnessed missed Leviathan—that I forgot what silence was like (not to mention the screams and there was a lot of that).
In the scrambling, I found I was reentering deeper into Golgotha and that wasn’t good. There was the ever-present thought that Maron was around every corner; the man had haunted my thoughts for longer that he should have and every time it was like an overwhelming force. It was simple enough after all, he was a piece of the past, a piece I could theoretically reach out and touch and that was what kept me to him.
In the fray of bolting citizens, I pressed myself to the exterior of a wall—I’d neared the stairs which once led to my apartment—and I kept out of the way of those that mindlessly went; some of those which rushed from the onslaught were those afflicted with skitterbugs and many of them either hobbled on blackened legs or—and this was rare—comrades or family helped to carry those which could not carry themselves. It was a baffling sight. A man carried a woman like a child (her toes had fallen off and her legs were black to the knees) and though he strode on with her, his own boots were caked with a mixture of blood and earth. An older girl led a young boy from the whirlwind of dust which was kicked up in the square; the boy’s eyes were whited, and his hands were curled to his chest, discolored. People, whatever duality there is, cared. There was not a drop of the apathy I’d learned and encouraged in myself.
I chewed like a mad dog through my bindings, and it was of little use; I yanked at the cord which secured my hands together and received rope burn in return. “Bitch!” I cussed the thing, but the flames in the sky were so loud, the bangs and vibrations from the artillery consumed all so it was like yelling in a barrel. I swung my hands out in front of me, feeling useless and felt a sudden urge to try again. I bit into the cord and repetitively motioned my jaw against the pressure of the cord, like I was going to saw through it with my teeth. Ha! Another yank is what brought my left hand free, but not without tearing a triangle of skin away from my wrist.
The cord dropped to my feet, and I looked around; a woman brushed past me, nearly toppled over my foot and I caught her by the wrist before she went head-over. She violently thrust from my grasp and screamed something at me. Another bout of flames burst from Leviathan’s maw as it circle-dove overhead. The heatwave from the blast exploded across my face so that I recoiled from the sky itself till I was on the ground, and I pushed myself from the earth and ran half dog-like from my place there at the wall. Where? It was hard to say where when every person that touched-by seemed to send me in another direction; in the madness, it was impossible to tell my course.
With time and effort, I found my way to the opening where the hydro towers were, three pillars which rose above Golgotha’s skyline, each one a testament to human resilience—engineers laborers toiled untold hours under Lady’s father to construct them. The hydro towers exploded into rubble as Leviathan slammed into them. Rock rained down as cutting shards and destructive boulders. A man lay beside my feet where he'd been pinned by the onslaught—white concrete kept him there by his chest—he gasped for air and blood already formed around him. In a moment, I looked away at the dying man, his half-whited eyes bulging at me. Meat hung from the left side of another man’s face as he cradled his head in his hand and moved like he was stoned and sat among the stomping feet; he slumped into the spot he sat and did not move till others came by him in a hurry and he simply fell onto his side like a toy animal.
The screams were too much. I looked to the towers, the nubs which had broken away like bad teeth against the red sky, and whole people fell alongside the rubble, limbs and showers of blood and Leviathan latched atop the towers and rocked its massive body so that the structures slipped directly from their foundations and tumbled over like pins. I ran and again there was nothing but chaos, nothing but mind-numbing wilder thoughts—it was grim and there wasn’t a place for coherency; it was all snaps of images.
In the mess of bumbling limbs, I pushed through to the hall of Bosses and there were people there already, rushing the stairs; the ground shook and I assumed it must’ve been the towers. The things demolished all in their path, and briefly, I saw the ramshackle structures which normally stood in their shadows come slanting over and people leapt from those places too and landed poorly and there was a cacophony of tremors through the earth—it felt as though hell should open.
The steps at the base of the hall were flooded and it was a fight to climb them as legs came high up from ahead and swiped at those behind and I kept my hands ahead of me to block whatever foot may come my way.
Wall men stood ready with their rifles at the tops of those steps and fired their weapons indiscriminately into the crowd. Bodies, big and small, piled atop the steps after a brief bullet dance and it came that I wasn’t only climbing stairs, but corpses; the warmth of their flesh as I clawed ahead remained and blood fog hung in the air. That grouping of wall men, casually lined before the doors of the hall were overtaken and they disappeared, their rifles cackled and came alive with muzzle flashes and the animal hands of the horde brought them to ground.
Us, the horde, funneled through those front doors and for a moment, in the thick walls of the hall, the outside world audibly disappeared; the blood and dust remained, but it was quieter save the shuffling feet and cusses of passersby I was carried deeper.
Those that worked the underground went quickly and I followed, and those ignorant followed for the sake of survival and it was not long till we stumbled into the Boss’s lair. With room, people dispersed like water through the tunnels and found dark recesses to tend their wounds or mourn whatever was lost and the explosive open air had been fully replaced by the quiet black oppressive mumbles of people taking stock of all those that had died. And all those that would. Every few moments, the walls shook, and dust fell from the ceiling fixtures.
A few haggard folks moved to the doorway which led to the damp room which led to the kitchen, and they slammed the door shut and latched it and began to check adjacent rooms for things to barricade the way.
“Stop!” said a man in the dim flickering underground light—I was surprised to see the man was me, “Leave it open! Others might need help.” I retraced my steps to the small faction that’d gathered there at the doorway. “You can’t just let them die out there. Let them in.”
“Shut up!” a skinny girl with her hair pulled back on her malnourished skull spoke gruffly; she choked, coughed—dust clung to her clothes—she’d been near the collapse of the hydro towers if I guessed. “Step off, or I’ll—
“Or you’ll what?” I shouted.
The girl put up her fists, two lumpy stones, and in stupid response I closed the distance between us. With speed, her fist met my nose, and I stumbled back on my heel.
Without hesitation, I brought up my own hands and landed a blow to her stomach. She craned forward, gasped on repeat, and took a knee.
Blood wet my upper lip, and I wiped it away with my forearm.
“Move,” I said to the others by the door; there were two: a woman and a boy that was nearly a man.
The boy charged headstrongly, attempted a kick and I easily shoved his small frame against the tunnel wall; the hard metal sounded a meaty thud against his body and the woman launched unseen at me, raked her nails down the back of my neck, and tore at my collar. I kept a forearm to the boy’s throat and rocked his head with my free elbow. Once he wept and spit red, I let him go; the boy slid into a sit and I spun on the woman, shoving her away. My left leg began to give, and I used the wall over the boy’s head as support. I swung at her with a wild claw and my fingertips grazed her nose as she fell away to the opposite wall.
“Stop it!” I shouted.
She launched at me, and my leg gave out under her tackle, and I stumbled half-on the boy, my feet kicked helplessly at her, and the boy regained his composure and began to crawl towards me. We wrestled and then the girl I’d knocked in the gut rejoined the fray. I was done. They had me pinned and spat curses at me and took turns shoving my head into the floor.
“You’re going to get us killed,” shouted the woman, “Are you stupid?”
I grinded my teeth and tried to throw them off; I was overpowered and easily pressed down again.
The overhead lights flickered with another deep earthy vibration and the trio let go of me in an instant—I came up swinging my arms like crazy and as I went to kneel before propelling myself to stand, a hand rested on my shoulder. I spun on the hand and was met with the black mouth of a 9mm pistol—that froze me fast.
The owner of the weapon—a wall man by the look of her fatigues—motioned for me to stand and I did. Her eyes were far off and nervous and the metal shook in her outstretched hand. “Against the wall!” she barked at us; she was small-framed and youthful but full grown, and I could easily push her out of my way if not for the pistol. We went to the wall, and she moved to the door while keeping the gun drawn on us. She watched us and glanced at the door. “It’s latched! Who latched the door?” She asked.
No one spoke. The other three looked to their feet; I initially refused to rat, and snorted blood—my nose throbbed and by touch I could tell it swelled already.
“Well? Why’s it closed?” she asked the question more like a desperate child than a person with control. “C’mon!” The 9mm rolled limply on her wrist as she said the word, like she was attempting to draw the confession from us with the motion.
“There’s an attack. They’re killing everyone,” said the boy.
The girl and woman nodded.
“Who?” asked the wall man.
“Demons, muties,” said the boy, “Big stuff. Everyone’s dying.”
The ground shook as if to emphasize his point.
The wall man studied us for a moment, lingering last on me and for the longest and she took a long breath and let the sigh out dramatically slow. “I know you,” she motioned at me with the gun, “You’re that maniac. The one that tried to murder everyone.” Her eyes fell then returned and she put her weight on the door while maintaining the barrel of the gun eye-level in my direction.
“I ain’t gonna’ hurt anyone,” said. I briefly thought about smiling but decided that’d look worse.
“How do I know that?” she asked.
“Yeah,” said the boy, “He tried to kill us already!” His voice cracked with adolescence; the blood I’d spilled from his mouth coated the front of his holey shirt.
The trio nodded all together—everyone agreed that I was a maniac killer.
“They latched it,” I said, “Cowards.”
A thump came from the other side of the door which frightened the wall man and she leapt from the spot she’d leaned—it took several full seconds to realize her gun went off; there was a flash, and my ears rang. I stumbled from the knot of people and slunk a couple of feet from the space by the door. The girl—the one I gut-punched—collapsed to the floor while holding the right side of her face. The women crowded the girl, panicked, the boy sprinted past me and disappeared deeper into the underground, and the wall man stood there with a wretched blank expression. There was a long moment which hung in the air; I could not hear and then it came back, and it was the girl’s screams I heard first.
Upon stepping to them, I saw the prone girl had been shot just so—through the cheek. Her eyes rolled from likely spinal damage; whatever the angle, it seemed to have ripped through irreparable nerves and she bled a lot. There wasn’t any hope for that girl.
“Well,” I said to the wall man, “Finish it. No reason to make her suffer.”
The girl on the ground writhed unnaturally and caterwauled while the woman by her side attempted to calm her.
Greater became the sound of the belabored hands on the other side of the door; then a hollow-sounding gunshot came from the other side; were they shooting the door? Or each other? Another round—human screams.
The wall man shook her head. “I didn’t mean it. It was an accident.”
I tried to hold the wall man’s gaze, but she didn’t seem able.
With speed, I moved to the wall man, reached for the gun which dangled helpless by her side—her initial response was to flinch, pull the weapon from my reach; our eyes locked and I clenched my jaw. She could’ve killed me. There wouldn’t have been surprise from me if she had.
She let go of the gun and I nodded, and she nodded and the woman kneeling by the girl threw herself over her. “Please,” protested the woman, “Please don’t!”
With the aid of the pistol, I was given space, and nothing was said. I mentally prepared myself for the ringing which accompanied gunfire in small spaces, even tilted my head away with my free palm up and took aim and the girl jerked once then went still.
With the ringing going and sound returning, the drumming on the door returned, as well as the quiet weeps of the woman; she crawled to the wayside of the hall, pressed her back against the wall and rested her chin on her knees with her arms around her shins. She didn’t rock to or fro and hardly made any noise at all. But the small and quiet sobs remained faintly there.
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submitted by Edwardthecrazyman to cryosleep [link] [comments]
Since I knew there was a time before, I’ve wanted it, but that was child’s hope; even as a boy I wanted a dream. I wanted some divine being to enter from heaven and tell us all how it should be, but that wasn’t something I could ever count on—of course. Is there a god? I think so. I’ve seen those things and if they exist, then surely there’s a maker on the other end of it—god made both the light and the dark if the word’s to be believed and all we can hope for is a glimpse of the former. Even for a second.
The streets were soaked with blood and so many artillery rounds were fired into the sky—many I witnessed missed Leviathan—that I forgot what silence was like (not to mention the screams and there was a lot of that).
In the scrambling, I found I was reentering deeper into Golgotha and that wasn’t good. There was the ever-present thought that Maron was around every corner; the man had haunted my thoughts for longer that he should have and every time it was like an overwhelming force. It was simple enough after all, he was a piece of the past, a piece I could theoretically reach out and touch and that was what kept me to him.
In the fray of bolting citizens, I pressed myself to the exterior of a wall—I’d neared the stairs which once led to my apartment—and I kept out of the way of those that mindlessly went; some of those which rushed from the onslaught were those afflicted with skitterbugs and many of them either hobbled on blackened legs or—and this was rare—comrades or family helped to carry those which could not carry themselves. It was a baffling sight. A man carried a woman like a child (her toes had fallen off and her legs were black to the knees) and though he strode on with her, his own boots were caked with a mixture of blood and earth. An older girl led a young boy from the whirlwind of dust which was kicked up in the square; the boy’s eyes were whited, and his hands were curled to his chest, discolored. People, whatever duality there is, cared. There was not a drop of the apathy I’d learned and encouraged in myself.
I chewed like a mad dog through my bindings, and it was of little use; I yanked at the cord which secured my hands together and received rope burn in return. “Bitch!” I cussed the thing, but the flames in the sky were so loud, the bangs and vibrations from the artillery consumed all so it was like yelling in a barrel. I swung my hands out in front of me, feeling useless and felt a sudden urge to try again. I bit into the cord and repetitively motioned my jaw against the pressure of the cord, like I was going to saw through it with my teeth. Ha! Another yank is what brought my left hand free, but not without tearing a triangle of skin away from my wrist.
The cord dropped to my feet, and I looked around; a woman brushed past me, nearly toppled over my foot and I caught her by the wrist before she went head-over. She violently thrust from my grasp and screamed something at me. Another bout of flames burst from Leviathan’s maw as it circle-dove overhead. The heatwave from the blast exploded across my face so that I recoiled from the sky itself till I was on the ground, and I pushed myself from the earth and ran half dog-like from my place there at the wall. Where? It was hard to say where when every person that touched-by seemed to send me in another direction; in the madness, it was impossible to tell my course.
With time and effort, I found my way to the opening where the hydro towers were, three pillars which rose above Golgotha’s skyline, each one a testament to human resilience—engineers laborers toiled untold hours under Lady’s father to construct them. The hydro towers exploded into rubble as Leviathan slammed into them. Rock rained down as cutting shards and destructive boulders. A man lay beside my feet where he'd been pinned by the onslaught—white concrete kept him there by his chest—he gasped for air and blood already formed around him. In a moment, I looked away at the dying man, his half-whited eyes bulging at me. Meat hung from the left side of another man’s face as he cradled his head in his hand and moved like he was stoned and sat among the stomping feet; he slumped into the spot he sat and did not move till others came by him in a hurry and he simply fell onto his side like a toy animal.
The screams were too much. I looked to the towers, the nubs which had broken away like bad teeth against the red sky, and whole people fell alongside the rubble, limbs and showers of blood and Leviathan latched atop the towers and rocked its massive body so that the structures slipped directly from their foundations and tumbled over like pins. I ran and again there was nothing but chaos, nothing but mind-numbing wilder thoughts—it was grim and there wasn’t a place for coherency; it was all snaps of images.
In the mess of bumbling limbs, I pushed through to the hall of Bosses and there were people there already, rushing the stairs; the ground shook and I assumed it must’ve been the towers. The things demolished all in their path, and briefly, I saw the ramshackle structures which normally stood in their shadows come slanting over and people leapt from those places too and landed poorly and there was a cacophony of tremors through the earth—it felt as though hell should open.
The steps at the base of the hall were flooded and it was a fight to climb them as legs came high up from ahead and swiped at those behind and I kept my hands ahead of me to block whatever foot may come my way.
Wall men stood ready with their rifles at the tops of those steps and fired their weapons indiscriminately into the crowd. Bodies, big and small, piled atop the steps after a brief bullet dance and it came that I wasn’t only climbing stairs, but corpses; the warmth of their flesh as I clawed ahead remained and blood fog hung in the air. That grouping of wall men, casually lined before the doors of the hall were overtaken and they disappeared, their rifles cackled and came alive with muzzle flashes and the animal hands of the horde brought them to ground.
Us, the horde, funneled through those front doors and for a moment, in the thick walls of the hall, the outside world audibly disappeared; the blood and dust remained, but it was quieter save the shuffling feet and cusses of passersby I was carried deeper.
Those that worked the underground went quickly and I followed, and those ignorant followed for the sake of survival and it was not long till we stumbled into the Boss’s lair. With room, people dispersed like water through the tunnels and found dark recesses to tend their wounds or mourn whatever was lost and the explosive open air had been fully replaced by the quiet black oppressive mumbles of people taking stock of all those that had died. And all those that would. Every few moments, the walls shook, and dust fell from the ceiling fixtures.
A few haggard folks moved to the doorway which led to the damp room which led to the kitchen, and they slammed the door shut and latched it and began to check adjacent rooms for things to barricade the way.
“Stop!” said a man in the dim flickering underground light—I was surprised to see the man was me, “Leave it open! Others might need help.” I retraced my steps to the small faction that’d gathered there at the doorway. “You can’t just let them die out there. Let them in.”
“Shut up!” a skinny girl with her hair pulled back on her malnourished skull spoke gruffly; she choked, coughed—dust clung to her clothes—she’d been near the collapse of the hydro towers if I guessed. “Step off, or I’ll—
“Or you’ll what?” I shouted.
The girl put up her fists, two lumpy stones, and in stupid response I closed the distance between us. With speed, her fist met my nose, and I stumbled back on my heel.
Without hesitation, I brought up my own hands and landed a blow to her stomach. She craned forward, gasped on repeat, and took a knee.
Blood wet my upper lip, and I wiped it away with my forearm.
“Move,” I said to the others by the door; there were two: a woman and a boy that was nearly a man.
The boy charged headstrongly, attempted a kick and I easily shoved his small frame against the tunnel wall; the hard metal sounded a meaty thud against his body and the woman launched unseen at me, raked her nails down the back of my neck, and tore at my collar. I kept a forearm to the boy’s throat and rocked his head with my free elbow. Once he wept and spit red, I let him go; the boy slid into a sit and I spun on the woman, shoving her away. My left leg began to give, and I used the wall over the boy’s head as support. I swung at her with a wild claw and my fingertips grazed her nose as she fell away to the opposite wall.
“Stop it!” I shouted.
She launched at me, and my leg gave out under her tackle, and I stumbled half-on the boy, my feet kicked helplessly at her, and the boy regained his composure and began to crawl towards me. We wrestled and then the girl I’d knocked in the gut rejoined the fray. I was done. They had me pinned and spat curses at me and took turns shoving my head into the floor.
“You’re going to get us killed,” shouted the woman, “Are you stupid?”
I grinded my teeth and tried to throw them off; I was overpowered and easily pressed down again.
The overhead lights flickered with another deep earthy vibration and the trio let go of me in an instant—I came up swinging my arms like crazy and as I went to kneel before propelling myself to stand, a hand rested on my shoulder. I spun on the hand and was met with the black mouth of a 9mm pistol—that froze me fast.
The owner of the weapon—a wall man by the look of her fatigues—motioned for me to stand and I did. Her eyes were far off and nervous and the metal shook in her outstretched hand. “Against the wall!” she barked at us; she was small-framed and youthful but full grown, and I could easily push her out of my way if not for the pistol. We went to the wall, and she moved to the door while keeping the gun drawn on us. She watched us and glanced at the door. “It’s latched! Who latched the door?” She asked.
No one spoke. The other three looked to their feet; I initially refused to rat, and snorted blood—my nose throbbed and by touch I could tell it swelled already.
“Well? Why’s it closed?” she asked the question more like a desperate child than a person with control. “C’mon!” The 9mm rolled limply on her wrist as she said the word, like she was attempting to draw the confession from us with the motion.
“There’s an attack. They’re killing everyone,” said the boy.
The girl and woman nodded.
“Who?” asked the wall man.
“Demons, muties,” said the boy, “Big stuff. Everyone’s dying.”
The ground shook as if to emphasize his point.
The wall man studied us for a moment, lingering last on me and for the longest and she took a long breath and let the sigh out dramatically slow. “I know you,” she motioned at me with the gun, “You’re that maniac. The one that tried to murder everyone.” Her eyes fell then returned and she put her weight on the door while maintaining the barrel of the gun eye-level in my direction.
“I ain’t gonna’ hurt anyone,” said. I briefly thought about smiling but decided that’d look worse.
“How do I know that?” she asked.
“Yeah,” said the boy, “He tried to kill us already!” His voice cracked with adolescence; the blood I’d spilled from his mouth coated the front of his holey shirt.
The trio nodded all together—everyone agreed that I was a maniac killer.
“They latched it,” I said, “Cowards.”
A thump came from the other side of the door which frightened the wall man and she leapt from the spot she’d leaned—it took several full seconds to realize her gun went off; there was a flash, and my ears rang. I stumbled from the knot of people and slunk a couple of feet from the space by the door. The girl—the one I gut-punched—collapsed to the floor while holding the right side of her face. The women crowded the girl, panicked, the boy sprinted past me and disappeared deeper into the underground, and the wall man stood there with a wretched blank expression. There was a long moment which hung in the air; I could not hear and then it came back, and it was the girl’s screams I heard first.
Upon stepping to them, I saw the prone girl had been shot just so—through the cheek. Her eyes rolled from likely spinal damage; whatever the angle, it seemed to have ripped through irreparable nerves and she bled a lot. There wasn’t any hope for that girl.
“Well,” I said to the wall man, “Finish it. No reason to make her suffer.”
The girl on the ground writhed unnaturally and caterwauled while the woman by her side attempted to calm her.
Greater became the sound of the belabored hands on the other side of the door; then a hollow-sounding gunshot came from the other side; were they shooting the door? Or each other? Another round—human screams.
The wall man shook her head. “I didn’t mean it. It was an accident.”
I tried to hold the wall man’s gaze, but she didn’t seem able.
With speed, I moved to the wall man, reached for the gun which dangled helpless by her side—her initial response was to flinch, pull the weapon from my reach; our eyes locked and I clenched my jaw. She could’ve killed me. There wouldn’t have been surprise from me if she had.
She let go of the gun and I nodded, and she nodded and the woman kneeling by the girl threw herself over her. “Please,” protested the woman, “Please don’t!”
With the aid of the pistol, I was given space, and nothing was said. I mentally prepared myself for the ringing which accompanied gunfire in small spaces, even tilted my head away with my free palm up and took aim and the girl jerked once then went still.
With the ringing going and sound returning, the drumming on the door returned, as well as the quiet weeps of the woman; she crawled to the wayside of the hall, pressed her back against the wall and rested her chin on her knees with her arms around her shins. She didn’t rock to or fro and hardly made any noise at all. But the small and quiet sobs remained faintly there.
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2024.06.01 08:45 Edwardthecrazyman Hiraeth or Where the Children Play: Execution Day [18]
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“How’d you think that was going to go?” asked a voice from the other side of the door.
I lay on the bunk and stared at the ceiling; my head throbbed. The place where I’d been grazed stung whenever I touched my fingers to it. A bullet had—by whoever’s grace—scraped my scalp and traced a line from the far corner of my right eyebrow. It'd only been three days and it still caused pain. No doctors came and I was certain there would be infection—if not plain infection, then it could always be the worser: skitterbugs. I ached still. I had never fully recovered, not like how I should have.
The day of anger, as I’d begun to think of it in my mind, had caused no great ruckus beyond a few dead men. Two were Bosses, but who knew if they’d announce that as casually as they’d surely announce my execution. Perhaps they’d string me up alongside thieves. A good thief and a bad. What a riot; I deserved no thieves, of course.
What was I? Some great hero? Some idiot was more likely. I wanted misery to befall those that perpetrated it themselves and there I was, more miserable. Perhaps the wrath in my heart came from some mutation; the demon Mephisto resurrected me (so said the demon) and I’d begun to accept it. It was the reason for my poor state, surely, and the more I thought on it, the more I believed it was true; it felt true right down to my bones. The truth hurt or it was age and I rose from the cot I lay on; I’d been detained in a room beside the one I’d visited Andrew many months prior. They’d starved me, rattled the door to try and frighten me, and they’d wasted water on my head to keep me from good sleep.
I did not respond to the voice from the other side of the door and the object rattled in its frame and the voice came again, this time angrier, “Really? How did you think that was going to go? Crazy bastard! Thought you’d put the hurt on the Bosses? Thought you’d kill us at our worst? First, it’s that explosion. You have something to do with that? No! First, it was Harold’s daughter running off!” The voice on the other side of the door grew with mirth as it did with anger. “I’d seen you around town a bit. Thought the Bosses always liked you. Huh. Boss Harold mentioned you at his parties and said how you were a smart fella’, a good fella’, and there you killed him. Stone cold.” The man which spoke was a jailor that tortured me in those dreamlike days I spent locked in their prison, and he seemed personally affronted. “So first it’s the explosions; steam or dust rose out of cracks in the ground you know—some thought hell was rising up, but the Bosses put those thoughts to bed. God, what’s it with the likes of you? The explosions and now I’ve lost an eye and its because of the skitterbugs. You probably brought that on!” The voice muttered and then the door shook in its frame again, seemingly from a hard kick. I wished I could see the face of the man throwing his tantrum. “Can’t wait to see you hang.”
“So, I’ll hang?” I asked the door. There was a long silence, and I was uncertain if I’d pitched my voice enough for the man on the other side to hear me. I opened my mouth to ask, “So-
“You’ll hang.” The man on other side seemed to knock his knuckles against the surface of the door. “Or you’ll die here.”
“What’s Maron said?”
“Don’t you worry about him.”
“What’s he said?”
“Said you’d probably appreciate the punishment that we’d put on you. Said you’re a sick man. Said you like speaking with devils and people like you only find pleasure in such things.”
“So, I won’t hang?”
“Oh, you’ll hang, sir. You’ll hang if I need to do it myself with no one else. If not that, I’ll be sure to put you under one way or another. Accidents happen.” He chuckled. “Maybe you’d enjoy it, but it doesn’t matter. Whatever enjoyment you find in your tortures won’t compare to what ideas I have.”
A long silence followed, and I watched dust motes dance in the air; the place was stagnant and even a breath caused a shift in their glide. I closed my eyes and tried to remember a better time. I thought of Suzanne. I thought of Gemma. What a time to be alive. I thought of the movies, the books, the musical cartridges that sung of yesteryears. How unlucky I’d been, of course. Something had changed in me though and it was totally refreshing. Perhaps it was in realizing the evils of my brothers was that of a man and not some otherworldly force, or perhaps it was a push that came from years of terrible inconsistencies. All that living in the past and so it was. It didn’t matter—the past. I’d been so busy with it that I’d been in a constant state of unliving. I’d known that always, of course—something new had come.
“You dozing off in there?” asked the jailor.
“Nah.”
“Good. Stay awake or I’ll be forced to stay you awake.”
I’d been reborn with a rage, justified or otherwise, and it was felt all over. It was a wild compulsion. All that time and it had been me that was brought back.
The wound on my head throbbed and I prodded it with a finger and brought the finger away and examined the digit; it was dried well enough, and I did not smell infection nor were there any of the accompanying symptoms of a fever or hallucination. I was me, through and through. For now.
The door banged. I didn’t bother an answer and the door banged again.
“Who’s there?” I asked, surprising myself with the sarcasm.
“Why’d you do it?” asked the jailor.
“You wanna’ ask me about it now?”
“Tell me.” The voice on the other side of the door was serious entirely.
“Bah!” “Bah to you! Why’d you do it?”
“Is there a reason to explain myself? If you knew better the things I knew, would it get you to unlock that door and let me walk free? Would it change your mind even?”
The jailor caught a laugh before responding. “Can’t say it would.”
“So, what’s it that you want? You won’t understand me, and I don’t think I’ve got the energies of persuasion to try.”
“Try.”
“You like the Bosses?”
“They’re okay. Keep me in work anyway. Keep people safe.” I slumped forward onto my knees where I sat and placed my elbows on my knees and watched the crack at the base of the door on the other side of the prison cell. “What’s it matter if they keep you in work? Think they care about you anymore than what you represent?”
“Huh?”
“I mean, you keep riffraff down and they like you for it. I wonder if they know you. You ever get invited to the feasts they hold at the hall? You ever worry about your water rations? You ever wonder why it is that so few of the women or men invited to the hall return? Children too, now that I think of it. They’d call those captured criminals, I know. Those brothers—the sheriff is to blame too—they’re bastards. You know they are.”
“Is that so? What’s that make me? A bastard too?”
“By proxy maybe.” I dryly chuckled. “What’s it matter? What do you want outta’ me anyhow? Some gratification? Some confession—you’ve gotten that already, ain’tcha? Maybe a repentance? Why don’t you call one of those Bosses on down from their throne and have them here on the other side of the door so I can apologize? Or call Lady and I’ll get her to channel some message to the afterlife and I’ll plead for forgiveness. That what you want? Now I’m a bad man and I know it, but it ain’t for the reasons you believe. What you want is belief that there’s a man under the skin of the monster you’ve projected? No, I won’t shoo away your boogeyman for you. It can’t be done, not from me.”
“You talk big for someone in your predicament. I like how you talk so holier. Like you’re talking down on me. I just wanted to know what made you want to go on a mad-killing spree the way you did.”
“Mm.” I cupped my hands together; as it was, my left knee shot off with pain and I tried to massage it to little comfort and stretched it out straight from my body. “When violence keeps you bound, violence is necessary to free yourself. That’s all I’ll say about it. If you hang me, then hang me. Spill my guts out for the birds and put a sack over my head so you won’t be sick by my face.”
“You’re a mouthy pig.”
I listened to the jailor’s footfalls disappear down the hall and finally it was totally quiet and all I could hear was the throb on my head. Lucky or unlucky? No, it wasn’t luck. I’d been marked. I was the payment, and I knew the price. The demon had my soul. Whatever protection it afforded me, I intended on using.
The image of that room continued over in my mind, with the peasantry (that’s what I saw them as then) knelt in front of the Bosses and the wall men, with the intense blood-smell, with the surprise on Maron’s face. Billy’s face. There was still a part of me, however small, that wanted to plead with him to change his ways. That wasn’t the part that welled up in me then though. The piece of me that wanted to see him die was what took over. It hadn’t been Maron that fired his gun; he’d still been fighting with his holster. I’d only taken a step in through the door and a spray of gunfire from one of the wall men’s rifles exploded and I was sure I was dead because I fell, and my vision went white. They should’ve put me down then.
I didn’t come too fully until I had a few goons on me, hauling me upright roughly under my arms. Maron didn’t say anything at first and those wall men took over; they shouted that I was alive still and I felt a hot gun barrel against my cheek.
“Stop!” shouted Maron. The Boss Sheriff stepped forward with his stilted gait and looked me over thoroughly. The gun barrel fell from my cheek, but they held me still; it wasn’t like I planned on fighting. “You got uglier,” said Boss Maron, “Really ugly.” His left eye, afflicted by the skitterbug infestation, had gone dead white with only the faintest trace of an iris; it dribbled pus.
I held his stare to the point that my eyes watered—whether from anger or sorrow or both—and my muscles tightened like an animal threatening to pounce. It was a ridiculous display.
“Lock him up,” said Boss Maron.
So, I was locked up and those uncounted days I was mildly tortured: sleep deprivation, pummeling, and sometimes they spit on me. It could have been worse. I’d seen worse.
The cell was numbingly quiet, and I continued to massage my knee, continued in thinking about how investing so much thought with the past twisted any future of mine into a dismal satire.
I could not tell how long it had been without sunlight and the jailor returned (he was bulbous and fattened and old but very strong—it could be sensed in how he carried himself) pushed through the door this time with a tray of diced potatoes, steamed but cold, and a metal cup of water. He sat them on the floor, stared at the tray there with his one good left eye, and it was like I could read his mind as he looked at the food there. He could destroy it; he jerked from the tray without saying a word to me then disappeared behind the door he closed. The jailor remained there outside.
Pride swelled in me momentarily before I pushed whatever silliness that was and devoured the food and drank the clear water. If it was poison, so be it. If it was poison, then all the problems of the world would disperse.
Again, the jailor pushed in through the door and bent to remove the tray and I was struck by the immediate thought of strangling him. So, I tried and threw myself at the man.
My hands felt the scruff around his throat, and I pressed hard with my fingers on his Adams apple. He’d lurched forward to lift the tray and he immediately came up with force, throwing me off him; my nails raked his cheek as I scrambled for purchase. He took the metal tray in both of his hands and thwapped me across the head—it rang, and I was stunned while he lifted back his right hand in a swing. In the dizziness, I momentarily caught a glimpse of the holster on his left hip and reached out dumbly for the revolver there. A meaty smack could be heard, and I didn’t even feel it when his fist met my face the second time. My head rocked and I fought to look upright, and his hand came again, and I put up my own hand in return; it was pushed away, and he continued at me, muttering epithets he found useful.
Once he was heaving and spitting, he left me on the cot and directly before slamming the door, he mentioned something about violence and how if I liked violence so much that he’d show it to me.
I nursed myself to sitting right-up and though adrenaline kept the pain away, I felt my face bruising already. There was no way for me to inspect the welts his hands had left, but I could guess their places by touch and how they thrummed with my heart.
Two days passed, if I counted them by the visits from the jailor and then Maron made his appearance to me, and I was surprised to see him with a leather eye patch over his left eye; he seemed ill on his feet and the jailor, though the man was there, did not move to stop Maron from entering the room and relieving me of my prison. He and the jailor roped my hands together in front of my pelvis and I didn’t fight.
Boss Maron stank of infection and yellow oozed from beneath his eye patch and he kept his cowboy hat pulled snugly over both his ears and did not speak so jovially—there were no crude jokes at my expense. A warmth radiated off him. The Boss carried my shotgun with him but made no remark on it. He marched me from the prison, and I met daylight, and it burned my eyes while I stared up into the reddish sky. Dust scattered from the nearest portion of wall and caught on the wind till it was carried and disappeared overhead, and I briefly thought how nice it must be to fly.
Golgotha stirred as ever, and people spoke loudly and candidly as I passed them by. Words came my way from passing faces like, “You kissed the devil’s ass!” or, “You sure are a monster, look at you!” and Maron pushed me on with the gun at my back, and I wavered on my legs like I was without any control.
“Is it true?” asked Boss Maron, “Did you kiss the devil’s ass?” He tilted the shotgun casually on his shoulder and kept me ahead of himself. He was taking me to hang—and making a big deal out of it too. “I know how you like to speak to them. The demons. I know how you conspire with them. I told them all how you do. Now they know I was right.”
What a rotten town it was, and it smelled like it. The atrophied muscles and diseased infections of those fine folks emanated in the air, flies buzzed around my head, bloated and doubtlessly happy from whatever corpse they’d sprung from.
“Say somethin’,” said Maron.
“What do you want?” I asked, watching my footfalls, ignoring the screeches of those on the sidelines; he marched me through the runways, past the onlookers which saw me with faces of twisted hatred. The tension was palpable—I could feel the venom off the eyes of those that watched. Blood red eyes which judged carelessly.
“I want you to say it,” said Maron; I felt the nudge of the shotgun at my back again and I stumbled forward, caught myself, carried on, “I want you to admit it to me. You’re like a mutant, ain’tcha? No better than any other monster. I knew it all them years. I seen it.” We took an alley and cretins followed behind; wall men flanked Maron and on either side of the narrow stretch there were faces made even with the wall, pressed there like they were afraid to be involved.
“Whatever you say, brother.”
“Don’t,” hissed Maron, “Don’t even.”
“What?” I spat the word, “Afraid they’ll treat you differently if they all know how close we are?” I felt the gun barrel press against my back, and I yelped out the words, “Hey! He’s my brother! My baby brother!” The barrel jabbed me in the spine, and I spilled forward, catching myself on one of those nearby faces. It was an old woman. She shoved me from her, and I flailed across the ground after trying to catch myself with my bound hands. Dirt met my face and exploded around me. I laughed, blinking through the dust. I spit too. He couldn’t kill me. Whatever black magic there was in me—bequeathed by Mephisto—refused me death. Maron lifted me with the help of his wall men, pinching the coat around my throat with his fist. He shoved me on, and we continued.
“You smell that?” I asked Maron.
“Stop talkin’. You might not be a man, but you’ll die like one,” he said. The wall men around muttered, and we took the way to the front square; already there were looky-loos gathered, throngs of them not at all bashful to see the day’s line-up—it was just me. The platform was emptier and that was good (Frank, Paul, and Matt looked naked without their eldest brother). Those Bosses which remained looked drunk as they did for any other execution. It was a good day for it. Warm. The stink of the crowd was worse and as those gathered parted for my entourage, the warmth of them cloistered us like the blood of a wound.
Even through the vile aroma, the smell of rotted poultry rose like nothing else. “You don’t smell it then?”
The roar, a cacophony of the damned souls stolen, shook the ground and the air changed. A dragon—Leviathan.
Along the wall which old skeletal corpses hung against dried blood stains from hook-chains, men and women scattered the length of the parapets with their weapons. Gunfire came and one of those atop the wall shouted, “Artillery! Dragon! Big guns!”
There was fire in the sky and the creature circled overhead and its wings beat the wind like mad; those organic ropes that hung from its body took on horrid shapes with its movement in the high noon sunlight.
Screams filled the air as the square erupted into panic. I dove into the sickly crowd; among the loudness, the horses which were lined by the big door fought against their ties and bolted across the square. Arms and heads disappeared beneath those dashing hooves, and it was not long before people were trampling people and in a quick glance I saw the Boss platform came down in splinters as the horses rushes it. Blood slickened the feet of many as they rushed to the buildings adjacent the square—what a small protection that’d be against Leviathan. A wall man went stumbling over the wall’s ledge and his body met the ground beneath the hanging corpses and he didn’t get up.
In the wild fray, Maron fired the shotgun into the air, and I briefly thought of where the pellets might fall.
Finally, artillery fire came and put a hole in the creature. It wavered in the air, its head lurched downward like it might pierce the ground and it pulled its long neck back and blew flames across the buildings. The heat was immaculate. Rotted chicken filled my lungs.
“There’s more!” shouted a wall man above, “Running across the field.”
The crowd grew more enamored with escape; there’s no good way to say it—blood frothed around our heels as I was shoved through the avenues of elbows, rocking heads, plunging knees. I pushed on, shielding myself with my bound hands as well as I could. I kept my head as high, and felt scratches reach my throat—doubtlessly those which could not continue—nails and fists came from every direction. In the ephemeral madness, I too screamed and it did not stop until I spilled into an alleyway along the wall nearest the execution chains. I ran and tripped from the crowd, slid, and bit my tongue so thoroughly that my teeth clicked together though the tissue; my breath was knocked from me. My pants were wet from the viscera. Others too had found the opening and barreled past me. I went to my feet and panted thought the pain, through the twinge in my left knee. I took the walls for support and still, those which rushed past nearly knocked me from my feet.
Some poor child—a lean, bony-faced boy—fell in the rush and before I had a moment to reach out, he was gone. Whether he lived or not, I did not stop to know. The crunch of bones as more people spilled into the narrow stretch indicated the worst.
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“How’d you think that was going to go?” asked a voice from the other side of the door.
I lay on the bunk and stared at the ceiling; my head throbbed. The place where I’d been grazed stung whenever I touched my fingers to it. A bullet had—by whoever’s grace—scraped my scalp and traced a line from the far corner of my right eyebrow. It'd only been three days and it still caused pain. No doctors came and I was certain there would be infection—if not plain infection, then it could always be the worser: skitterbugs. I ached still. I had never fully recovered, not like how I should have.
The day of anger, as I’d begun to think of it in my mind, had caused no great ruckus beyond a few dead men. Two were Bosses, but who knew if they’d announce that as casually as they’d surely announce my execution. Perhaps they’d string me up alongside thieves. A good thief and a bad. What a riot; I deserved no thieves, of course.
What was I? Some great hero? Some idiot was more likely. I wanted misery to befall those that perpetrated it themselves and there I was, more miserable. Perhaps the wrath in my heart came from some mutation; the demon Mephisto resurrected me (so said the demon) and I’d begun to accept it. It was the reason for my poor state, surely, and the more I thought on it, the more I believed it was true; it felt true right down to my bones. The truth hurt or it was age and I rose from the cot I lay on; I’d been detained in a room beside the one I’d visited Andrew many months prior. They’d starved me, rattled the door to try and frighten me, and they’d wasted water on my head to keep me from good sleep.
I did not respond to the voice from the other side of the door and the object rattled in its frame and the voice came again, this time angrier, “Really? How did you think that was going to go? Crazy bastard! Thought you’d put the hurt on the Bosses? Thought you’d kill us at our worst? First, it’s that explosion. You have something to do with that? No! First, it was Harold’s daughter running off!” The voice on the other side of the door grew with mirth as it did with anger. “I’d seen you around town a bit. Thought the Bosses always liked you. Huh. Boss Harold mentioned you at his parties and said how you were a smart fella’, a good fella’, and there you killed him. Stone cold.” The man which spoke was a jailor that tortured me in those dreamlike days I spent locked in their prison, and he seemed personally affronted. “So first it’s the explosions; steam or dust rose out of cracks in the ground you know—some thought hell was rising up, but the Bosses put those thoughts to bed. God, what’s it with the likes of you? The explosions and now I’ve lost an eye and its because of the skitterbugs. You probably brought that on!” The voice muttered and then the door shook in its frame again, seemingly from a hard kick. I wished I could see the face of the man throwing his tantrum. “Can’t wait to see you hang.”
“So, I’ll hang?” I asked the door. There was a long silence, and I was uncertain if I’d pitched my voice enough for the man on the other side to hear me. I opened my mouth to ask, “So-
“You’ll hang.” The man on other side seemed to knock his knuckles against the surface of the door. “Or you’ll die here.”
“What’s Maron said?”
“Don’t you worry about him.”
“What’s he said?”
“Said you’d probably appreciate the punishment that we’d put on you. Said you’re a sick man. Said you like speaking with devils and people like you only find pleasure in such things.”
“So, I won’t hang?”
“Oh, you’ll hang, sir. You’ll hang if I need to do it myself with no one else. If not that, I’ll be sure to put you under one way or another. Accidents happen.” He chuckled. “Maybe you’d enjoy it, but it doesn’t matter. Whatever enjoyment you find in your tortures won’t compare to what ideas I have.”
A long silence followed, and I watched dust motes dance in the air; the place was stagnant and even a breath caused a shift in their glide. I closed my eyes and tried to remember a better time. I thought of Suzanne. I thought of Gemma. What a time to be alive. I thought of the movies, the books, the musical cartridges that sung of yesteryears. How unlucky I’d been, of course. Something had changed in me though and it was totally refreshing. Perhaps it was in realizing the evils of my brothers was that of a man and not some otherworldly force, or perhaps it was a push that came from years of terrible inconsistencies. All that living in the past and so it was. It didn’t matter—the past. I’d been so busy with it that I’d been in a constant state of unliving. I’d known that always, of course—something new had come.
“You dozing off in there?” asked the jailor.
“Nah.”
“Good. Stay awake or I’ll be forced to stay you awake.”
I’d been reborn with a rage, justified or otherwise, and it was felt all over. It was a wild compulsion. All that time and it had been me that was brought back.
The wound on my head throbbed and I prodded it with a finger and brought the finger away and examined the digit; it was dried well enough, and I did not smell infection nor were there any of the accompanying symptoms of a fever or hallucination. I was me, through and through. For now.
The door banged. I didn’t bother an answer and the door banged again.
“Who’s there?” I asked, surprising myself with the sarcasm.
“Why’d you do it?” asked the jailor.
“You wanna’ ask me about it now?”
“Tell me.” The voice on the other side of the door was serious entirely.
“Bah!” “Bah to you! Why’d you do it?”
“Is there a reason to explain myself? If you knew better the things I knew, would it get you to unlock that door and let me walk free? Would it change your mind even?”
The jailor caught a laugh before responding. “Can’t say it would.”
“So, what’s it that you want? You won’t understand me, and I don’t think I’ve got the energies of persuasion to try.”
“Try.”
“You like the Bosses?”
“They’re okay. Keep me in work anyway. Keep people safe.” I slumped forward onto my knees where I sat and placed my elbows on my knees and watched the crack at the base of the door on the other side of the prison cell. “What’s it matter if they keep you in work? Think they care about you anymore than what you represent?”
“Huh?”
“I mean, you keep riffraff down and they like you for it. I wonder if they know you. You ever get invited to the feasts they hold at the hall? You ever worry about your water rations? You ever wonder why it is that so few of the women or men invited to the hall return? Children too, now that I think of it. They’d call those captured criminals, I know. Those brothers—the sheriff is to blame too—they’re bastards. You know they are.”
“Is that so? What’s that make me? A bastard too?”
“By proxy maybe.” I dryly chuckled. “What’s it matter? What do you want outta’ me anyhow? Some gratification? Some confession—you’ve gotten that already, ain’tcha? Maybe a repentance? Why don’t you call one of those Bosses on down from their throne and have them here on the other side of the door so I can apologize? Or call Lady and I’ll get her to channel some message to the afterlife and I’ll plead for forgiveness. That what you want? Now I’m a bad man and I know it, but it ain’t for the reasons you believe. What you want is belief that there’s a man under the skin of the monster you’ve projected? No, I won’t shoo away your boogeyman for you. It can’t be done, not from me.”
“You talk big for someone in your predicament. I like how you talk so holier. Like you’re talking down on me. I just wanted to know what made you want to go on a mad-killing spree the way you did.”
“Mm.” I cupped my hands together; as it was, my left knee shot off with pain and I tried to massage it to little comfort and stretched it out straight from my body. “When violence keeps you bound, violence is necessary to free yourself. That’s all I’ll say about it. If you hang me, then hang me. Spill my guts out for the birds and put a sack over my head so you won’t be sick by my face.”
“You’re a mouthy pig.”
I listened to the jailor’s footfalls disappear down the hall and finally it was totally quiet and all I could hear was the throb on my head. Lucky or unlucky? No, it wasn’t luck. I’d been marked. I was the payment, and I knew the price. The demon had my soul. Whatever protection it afforded me, I intended on using.
The image of that room continued over in my mind, with the peasantry (that’s what I saw them as then) knelt in front of the Bosses and the wall men, with the intense blood-smell, with the surprise on Maron’s face. Billy’s face. There was still a part of me, however small, that wanted to plead with him to change his ways. That wasn’t the part that welled up in me then though. The piece of me that wanted to see him die was what took over. It hadn’t been Maron that fired his gun; he’d still been fighting with his holster. I’d only taken a step in through the door and a spray of gunfire from one of the wall men’s rifles exploded and I was sure I was dead because I fell, and my vision went white. They should’ve put me down then.
I didn’t come too fully until I had a few goons on me, hauling me upright roughly under my arms. Maron didn’t say anything at first and those wall men took over; they shouted that I was alive still and I felt a hot gun barrel against my cheek.
“Stop!” shouted Maron. The Boss Sheriff stepped forward with his stilted gait and looked me over thoroughly. The gun barrel fell from my cheek, but they held me still; it wasn’t like I planned on fighting. “You got uglier,” said Boss Maron, “Really ugly.” His left eye, afflicted by the skitterbug infestation, had gone dead white with only the faintest trace of an iris; it dribbled pus.
I held his stare to the point that my eyes watered—whether from anger or sorrow or both—and my muscles tightened like an animal threatening to pounce. It was a ridiculous display.
“Lock him up,” said Boss Maron.
So, I was locked up and those uncounted days I was mildly tortured: sleep deprivation, pummeling, and sometimes they spit on me. It could have been worse. I’d seen worse.
The cell was numbingly quiet, and I continued to massage my knee, continued in thinking about how investing so much thought with the past twisted any future of mine into a dismal satire.
I could not tell how long it had been without sunlight and the jailor returned (he was bulbous and fattened and old but very strong—it could be sensed in how he carried himself) pushed through the door this time with a tray of diced potatoes, steamed but cold, and a metal cup of water. He sat them on the floor, stared at the tray there with his one good left eye, and it was like I could read his mind as he looked at the food there. He could destroy it; he jerked from the tray without saying a word to me then disappeared behind the door he closed. The jailor remained there outside.
Pride swelled in me momentarily before I pushed whatever silliness that was and devoured the food and drank the clear water. If it was poison, so be it. If it was poison, then all the problems of the world would disperse.
Again, the jailor pushed in through the door and bent to remove the tray and I was struck by the immediate thought of strangling him. So, I tried and threw myself at the man.
My hands felt the scruff around his throat, and I pressed hard with my fingers on his Adams apple. He’d lurched forward to lift the tray and he immediately came up with force, throwing me off him; my nails raked his cheek as I scrambled for purchase. He took the metal tray in both of his hands and thwapped me across the head—it rang, and I was stunned while he lifted back his right hand in a swing. In the dizziness, I momentarily caught a glimpse of the holster on his left hip and reached out dumbly for the revolver there. A meaty smack could be heard, and I didn’t even feel it when his fist met my face the second time. My head rocked and I fought to look upright, and his hand came again, and I put up my own hand in return; it was pushed away, and he continued at me, muttering epithets he found useful.
Once he was heaving and spitting, he left me on the cot and directly before slamming the door, he mentioned something about violence and how if I liked violence so much that he’d show it to me.
I nursed myself to sitting right-up and though adrenaline kept the pain away, I felt my face bruising already. There was no way for me to inspect the welts his hands had left, but I could guess their places by touch and how they thrummed with my heart.
Two days passed, if I counted them by the visits from the jailor and then Maron made his appearance to me, and I was surprised to see him with a leather eye patch over his left eye; he seemed ill on his feet and the jailor, though the man was there, did not move to stop Maron from entering the room and relieving me of my prison. He and the jailor roped my hands together in front of my pelvis and I didn’t fight.
Boss Maron stank of infection and yellow oozed from beneath his eye patch and he kept his cowboy hat pulled snugly over both his ears and did not speak so jovially—there were no crude jokes at my expense. A warmth radiated off him. The Boss carried my shotgun with him but made no remark on it. He marched me from the prison, and I met daylight, and it burned my eyes while I stared up into the reddish sky. Dust scattered from the nearest portion of wall and caught on the wind till it was carried and disappeared overhead, and I briefly thought how nice it must be to fly.
Golgotha stirred as ever, and people spoke loudly and candidly as I passed them by. Words came my way from passing faces like, “You kissed the devil’s ass!” or, “You sure are a monster, look at you!” and Maron pushed me on with the gun at my back, and I wavered on my legs like I was without any control.
“Is it true?” asked Boss Maron, “Did you kiss the devil’s ass?” He tilted the shotgun casually on his shoulder and kept me ahead of himself. He was taking me to hang—and making a big deal out of it too. “I know how you like to speak to them. The demons. I know how you conspire with them. I told them all how you do. Now they know I was right.”
What a rotten town it was, and it smelled like it. The atrophied muscles and diseased infections of those fine folks emanated in the air, flies buzzed around my head, bloated and doubtlessly happy from whatever corpse they’d sprung from.
“Say somethin’,” said Maron.
“What do you want?” I asked, watching my footfalls, ignoring the screeches of those on the sidelines; he marched me through the runways, past the onlookers which saw me with faces of twisted hatred. The tension was palpable—I could feel the venom off the eyes of those that watched. Blood red eyes which judged carelessly.
“I want you to say it,” said Maron; I felt the nudge of the shotgun at my back again and I stumbled forward, caught myself, carried on, “I want you to admit it to me. You’re like a mutant, ain’tcha? No better than any other monster. I knew it all them years. I seen it.” We took an alley and cretins followed behind; wall men flanked Maron and on either side of the narrow stretch there were faces made even with the wall, pressed there like they were afraid to be involved.
“Whatever you say, brother.”
“Don’t,” hissed Maron, “Don’t even.”
“What?” I spat the word, “Afraid they’ll treat you differently if they all know how close we are?” I felt the gun barrel press against my back, and I yelped out the words, “Hey! He’s my brother! My baby brother!” The barrel jabbed me in the spine, and I spilled forward, catching myself on one of those nearby faces. It was an old woman. She shoved me from her, and I flailed across the ground after trying to catch myself with my bound hands. Dirt met my face and exploded around me. I laughed, blinking through the dust. I spit too. He couldn’t kill me. Whatever black magic there was in me—bequeathed by Mephisto—refused me death. Maron lifted me with the help of his wall men, pinching the coat around my throat with his fist. He shoved me on, and we continued.
“You smell that?” I asked Maron.
“Stop talkin’. You might not be a man, but you’ll die like one,” he said. The wall men around muttered, and we took the way to the front square; already there were looky-loos gathered, throngs of them not at all bashful to see the day’s line-up—it was just me. The platform was emptier and that was good (Frank, Paul, and Matt looked naked without their eldest brother). Those Bosses which remained looked drunk as they did for any other execution. It was a good day for it. Warm. The stink of the crowd was worse and as those gathered parted for my entourage, the warmth of them cloistered us like the blood of a wound.
Even through the vile aroma, the smell of rotted poultry rose like nothing else. “You don’t smell it then?”
The roar, a cacophony of the damned souls stolen, shook the ground and the air changed. A dragon—Leviathan.
Along the wall which old skeletal corpses hung against dried blood stains from hook-chains, men and women scattered the length of the parapets with their weapons. Gunfire came and one of those atop the wall shouted, “Artillery! Dragon! Big guns!”
There was fire in the sky and the creature circled overhead and its wings beat the wind like mad; those organic ropes that hung from its body took on horrid shapes with its movement in the high noon sunlight.
Screams filled the air as the square erupted into panic. I dove into the sickly crowd; among the loudness, the horses which were lined by the big door fought against their ties and bolted across the square. Arms and heads disappeared beneath those dashing hooves, and it was not long before people were trampling people and in a quick glance I saw the Boss platform came down in splinters as the horses rushes it. Blood slickened the feet of many as they rushed to the buildings adjacent the square—what a small protection that’d be against Leviathan. A wall man went stumbling over the wall’s ledge and his body met the ground beneath the hanging corpses and he didn’t get up.
In the wild fray, Maron fired the shotgun into the air, and I briefly thought of where the pellets might fall.
Finally, artillery fire came and put a hole in the creature. It wavered in the air, its head lurched downward like it might pierce the ground and it pulled its long neck back and blew flames across the buildings. The heat was immaculate. Rotted chicken filled my lungs.
“There’s more!” shouted a wall man above, “Running across the field.”
The crowd grew more enamored with escape; there’s no good way to say it—blood frothed around our heels as I was shoved through the avenues of elbows, rocking heads, plunging knees. I pushed on, shielding myself with my bound hands as well as I could. I kept my head as high, and felt scratches reach my throat—doubtlessly those which could not continue—nails and fists came from every direction. In the ephemeral madness, I too screamed and it did not stop until I spilled into an alleyway along the wall nearest the execution chains. I ran and tripped from the crowd, slid, and bit my tongue so thoroughly that my teeth clicked together though the tissue; my breath was knocked from me. My pants were wet from the viscera. Others too had found the opening and barreled past me. I went to my feet and panted thought the pain, through the twinge in my left knee. I took the walls for support and still, those which rushed past nearly knocked me from my feet.
Some poor child—a lean, bony-faced boy—fell in the rush and before I had a moment to reach out, he was gone. Whether he lived or not, I did not stop to know. The crunch of bones as more people spilled into the narrow stretch indicated the worst.
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2024.06.01 08:44 TheSmallestYiga Is this trend the new AMA? Anyway, here’s Venzo’s bio
Name: Venzo Muridae
Race: Picori
Age: 300 years old (to a Picori, this is basically 18 years old))
Height: 1.5 inches
Likes: All of his friends (as well as practically every single Yiga and ally), bananas, fighting, Sheena, Master Kohga, impressive feats of strength (or strength that just seems impressive to him), really large beings (partially for the previously mentioned point), making new friends,
Dislikes: Plucky, Peels, being called derogatory names for short people like “midget” or “shortstack” or being called “vermin”, his friends getting hurt, being unable to swim, being an exile from the Picori Realm, his own forgetfulness with his Yiga Slate and Mini Doortal, getting gifts he thinks he doesn’t “deserve” (usually free money), Br’oug, being treated as weaker than everyone else, being told he’s food/should be eaten by an animal (this is a terrible insult to Picori), foul language
Fears: Drowning, heights, hungry animals, frogs, being weak, losing loved ones, Plucky
Flaws: Inferiority complex, often overworks himself, often overly emotional, low self esteem, forgetful of important items, has some trauma from his past (both before and during his time in the Clan), sometimes makes brash decisions that negatively impact him in the future, physically small weak and fragile
Job: Yiga Footsoldier, YASA astronaut, Seaga Clan crew member, Rainfall Industries Head of Maintenance, Yiga Special Forces Officer
Relationships: Sheena (girlfriend), Peels (rival), Seishin (adopted son, kind of) , Br’oug (former weapon and hated individual), Mer-Venzo (aquatic alternate universe version of himself), Master Kohga, Sooga, and Ganondorf (Clan leaders and entities of worship), Vaati (secretly his celebrity idol)
Fun facts:
He has a room full of Vaati posters and merchandise, and one of the posters is somehow signed. This is one of his most prized possessions.
He is incredible at poker.
He’s allergic to peanuts.
He is terrible at recognizing when someone is and isn’t in love/trying to be romantic or not. It’s insane that he managed to somehow get a girlfriend.
He isn’t old enough to drink, and won’t be for another 50 years. However, during YASA’s first space mission, he ended up accidentally getting drunk and missing the captains speech on the moon.
Prior to him joining the Clan, his friends were all killed by Link (disclaimer: this is implied to be an accident! u/TheHeroOfHyruleLink don’t get mad!)
submitted by TheSmallestYiga to YigaClanOfficial [link] [comments]
Race: Picori
Age: 300 years old (to a Picori, this is basically 18 years old))
Height: 1.5 inches
Likes: All of his friends (as well as practically every single Yiga and ally), bananas, fighting, Sheena, Master Kohga, impressive feats of strength (or strength that just seems impressive to him), really large beings (partially for the previously mentioned point), making new friends,
Dislikes: Plucky, Peels, being called derogatory names for short people like “midget” or “shortstack” or being called “vermin”, his friends getting hurt, being unable to swim, being an exile from the Picori Realm, his own forgetfulness with his Yiga Slate and Mini Doortal, getting gifts he thinks he doesn’t “deserve” (usually free money), Br’oug, being treated as weaker than everyone else, being told he’s food/should be eaten by an animal (this is a terrible insult to Picori), foul language
Fears: Drowning, heights, hungry animals, frogs, being weak, losing loved ones, Plucky
Flaws: Inferiority complex, often overworks himself, often overly emotional, low self esteem, forgetful of important items, has some trauma from his past (both before and during his time in the Clan), sometimes makes brash decisions that negatively impact him in the future, physically small weak and fragile
Job: Yiga Footsoldier, YASA astronaut, Seaga Clan crew member, Rainfall Industries Head of Maintenance, Yiga Special Forces Officer
Relationships: Sheena (girlfriend), Peels (rival), Seishin (adopted son, kind of) , Br’oug (former weapon and hated individual), Mer-Venzo (aquatic alternate universe version of himself), Master Kohga, Sooga, and Ganondorf (Clan leaders and entities of worship), Vaati (secretly his celebrity idol)
Fun facts:
He has a room full of Vaati posters and merchandise, and one of the posters is somehow signed. This is one of his most prized possessions.
He is incredible at poker.
He’s allergic to peanuts.
He is terrible at recognizing when someone is and isn’t in love/trying to be romantic or not. It’s insane that he managed to somehow get a girlfriend.
He isn’t old enough to drink, and won’t be for another 50 years. However, during YASA’s first space mission, he ended up accidentally getting drunk and missing the captains speech on the moon.
Prior to him joining the Clan, his friends were all killed by Link (disclaimer: this is implied to be an accident! u/TheHeroOfHyruleLink don’t get mad!)
2024.06.01 08:37 Ok-Potato1967 Riikvard, First Knight Of Rose
 | In The Realm Of The Lands Between, Where The Ebb And Flow Of Magic And The Whims Of The Gods Dictated The Fate Of Mortals, There Was Once A Prophet Named Riikvard. Born Under A Veil Of Mystery, He Was Conceived Without A Father, A Child Of The Enigmatic Formless Mother, An Outer God Whose Presence Was As Elusive As The Wind Itself. His Birth Was Heralded By A Stillness That Swept Across The Land, As If Nature Itself Held Its Breath In Anticipation Of The Enigma That Had Entered Its Midst. Animals Ceased Their Wanderings, Rivers Stilled Their Flow, And The Very Air Seemed To Pause In Silent Reverence. submitted by Ok-Potato1967 to EldenBling [link] [comments] Riikvard Was A Paradox—Born With A Fragile Body That Belied His Immense Magical Prowess And Wisdom. It Was As If The Formless Mother Had Bestowed Upon Him All Her Blessings, Yet Cursed Him With A Body That Could Barely Sustain The Life Force Within. He Was A Being Of Contradictions, His Beauty Unparalleled, Yet His Physical Form As Delicate As The First Bloom Of Spring. It Was By The Ancient Tree That Riikvard's Destiny Was Irrevocably Altered. Gazing Upon A Rose That Sprouted From The Earth, He Was Struck By Its Fragile Beauty, Akin To His Own. In A Moment Of Innocent Curiosity, He Reached For The Rose, Only To Be Pricked By Its Thorns. His Blood, As Red As The Rose Itself, Dripped Onto The Petals, Causing Them To Glow With An Otherworldly Radiance. In An Instant, Riikvard Was Transported To The Realm Of The Formless Mother, Where He Was Granted An Audience With The Divine Entity. Upon His Return To The Mortal Realm, Riikvard Was Changed. His Eyes, Once Filled With The Innocence Of A Child, Now Glowed A Deep, Blood Red, Mirroring The Rose That Had Altered His Fate. He Had Been Granted Power, A Connection To The Formless Mother That Transcended The Mundane. It Was This Power That Led Him To The Church Of Rose, Where He Became A Devoted Follower Of The Way Of Rose, Preaching The Doctrine Of Blood Sacrifice To Gain Strength. For Years, Riikvard Reveled In The Power That Flowed Through His Veins, His Every Action Guided By The Whispers Of The Formless Mother. Yet, As Time Passed, The Warmth Of Her Embrace Began To Fade, Leaving Riikvard Bereft Of The Power That Had Once Defined Him. In A Moment Of Desperation, He Pushed One Of His Offspring, Killing Them Instantly. Horrified By His Own Actions, Riikvard Sought Solace In The Very Tree Where His Journey Had Begun. It Was There, Under The Sprawling Branches Of The Ancient Tree, That Riikvard's Psyche Shattered. Yet, Instead Of Descending Into Madness, He Achieved A State Of Super Sanity, A Lucidity That Was Beyond The Comprehension Of Mere Mortals. In This Newfound State, Riikvard, Now Imbued With A Clarity That Transcended The Boundaries Of Mortal Understanding, Saw The World For What It Truly Was. He Became Acutely Aware Of His Own Existence, The Machinations Of The Gods, And The Intricate Web Of Fate That Bound All Living Beings. This Newfound Enlightenment Brought With It A Radical Passion, A Burning Desire To Exact Revenge Upon The Formless Mother For Her Abandonment. In A Macabre Celebration Of His Devotion To The Way Of Rose, Riikvard Organized A Grand Festival, Gathering All The Devoted Followers Of The Church. Under The Guise Of Celebration, He Slaughtered Every Single One Of Them, His Own Family And Friends Not Spared From His Wrath. With Each Heart He Ripped Out, He Used Ancient Blood Magic To Turn Them Into Roses, Forging The Infamous Blood-Rose Bouquet. The Weapon, A Testament To His Newfound Power And Resolve, Was A Symbol Of His Defiance Against The Gods Themselves. Armed With The Blood-Rose Bouquet, Riikvard Embarked On A Journey Across The Lands Between, His Laughter Echoing Through The Realm Like A Chilling Harbinger Of Doom. He Sought Out Strong Individuals, Demigods, And Powerful Beings, Bathing In Their Blood To Augment His Own Strength. His Laughter, A Cacophony Of Madness, Erupted In Sudden, Jarring Bursts, A Chilling Reminder Of The Chaos That Lurked Within Him. However, His Actions Did Not Go Unnoticed By The Greater Will, The Divine Force That Governed The Lands Between. In A Bid To Quell The Heretic's Blasphemous Crusade, The Greater Will Exiled Riikvard To A Separate Plane Of Existence, Hoping To Contain The Threat He Posed To The Balance Of Power. Yet, Fate Had Other Plans. A Great War Erupted Between The Demigods, A Conflict That Had Been Locked In A Stalemate For 5,000 Years. Desperate To Break The Impasse, The Greater Will Summoned All Those Who Had Been Exiled Back To The Lands Between, Including The Most Loved Sociopath, Riikvard. Now, Riikvard, The First Knight Of Rose, Stands At The Precipice Of A New Chapter In His Twisted Saga. His Blood-Soaked Journey, Fueled By A Thirst For Revenge And An Insatiable Hunger For Power, Is Poised To Reshape The Very Fabric Of The Lands Between. With The Blood-Rose Bouquet In Hand, Riikvard Is Ready To Face The Formless Mother, To Exact His Retribution, And To Bathe In The Blood Of Gods. In The Annals Of History, His Name Will Be Etched In Blood, A Testament To His Indomitable Will And The Lengths To Which He Will Go To Achieve His Ultimate Goal. For Riikvard, The First Knight Of Rose, The End Is Just The Beginning, And The World Will Tremble At The Sound Of His Laughter. |