safe to say we're all home now & it's sinking in the weekend is really over. was thinking about my favorite moments, & i'm curious to hear about you guys' experiences. feel free to go into detail, or don't!
for me:
songs: Thursday - Jet Black New Year: if you were there, self explanatory. went as hard as i hoped for my first Thursday set ever. passionate crowd, they sounded great, & man, geoff's a great frontperson. in my top 3 sets, could be my favorite.
PUP - Waiting: real cool to see so many people singing along. pit was fun, singer stagedove, good vibes
Midtown - Give It Up: their last song, no one knows when they'll play next, but no one was thinking about that in the moment. fun little pit going, gabe hanging by the crowd & stagediving made for a great ending.
L.S. Dunes - Bombsquad: safe to say whenever a member of a band goes in the crowd, it's a good time (shoutout ag). awesome crowd reception, rough near the front but i knew to expect it. great set opener
Motion City - Everything Is Alright: massive singalong, sun was out, happy vibes all around. felt cathartic & warped-ish to have the scene together like this. one of those "man, i love live music" moments.
Coheed - Welcome Home: first coheed set & was stuck pretty far back w/o being able to see much for a while, but by the end found a decent spot & watched them absolutely CRUSH this (think my mouth formed a :O at some point) ‎
sets (not including the bands i already mentioned): Waterparks - probably my favorite i've seen from them! crowd was into it, lots of surfers & pits, solid setlist, too.
Incendiary - sounded great & the crowd was really feeling it. don't know a ton about them actually, but i appreciated the singer's positive vibe.
blink - crowd wasn't the most energetic where i was, but it wasn't awful. just seeing them w/ tom & in a ga setting for the first time + hearing man overboard & adam's song made it memorable. super fun to hear the banter in real time (cue cougar story), also glad the surfing picked up near the end.
great show y'all, manifesting adjacent again next year 🤘

Yep, another prompted story I wrote a few years ago, just here in the hopes I can work up motivation for later. I got sick of writing this one (I never intended to take more than a few hours on it) and I think by the end it shows, but I am marginally proud of some of the writing.
******
The first time, and the second, and the third, the trip had felt wrong. The company seemed too austere, the destination strange and foreboding, the ship too cramped. Claustrophobia is common for our kind, said to be a remnant of our past as grazing herbivores; cramped quarters and limited visibility are a poor substitute for open grasslands, where predators can't approach without being seen. But on a junkheap like the Scroungehound I think even cave dwellers would get anxious.
In any case, the first few times I made the trip to Earth, it had felt wrong. After a dozen expeditions, I no longer felt that apprehension, but I could tell the newcomers on the crew were feeling it. Maelorn was constantly at Kajath's throats, and Valish stayed in her quarters for cyrra on end, burning up her compensation on calming holovirons. Even the swarmnode was in a bad mood; I suspect she was undergoing a protandrous phase. By the mercy of the Great Attractor I didn't have to help clean up any unfertilized eggs. Still, they were all newcomers, and tensions would undoubtedly be more amiable once we reached Earth. It was a once-before-consciousness-upload opportunity for most xenoarchaelogists. Every foal- or grub, or hatchling, or what have you- knew those famous ruins, the chemical cloud patterns, the fossilized forests.
In the meantime I tried to make the most of the voyage scratching on a nerve-duller patch and staring out the hologlass at the white streaks as stars passed us by. Earth awaited.
*******
It was as beautiful and as ugly as I remembered from the last dozen trips. Like an ulcerous pearl from a Skranalid. Once upon a time Earth had been a brilliant blue with wisps of cloudlets, rugged continents settled by only a few tens of billions; now the marble was a mess of neon colors and graying, dead oceans.
My assembled assistants, peering through the vidscreen, regarded our destination with relief and, for one or two, not a little disappointment.
"It's... really not what I expected," Maelorn chattered, head tentacles wriggling nervously.
"It is a bit underwhelming at this distance. You may find it more appealing down on the surface."
"Are we going now?" Kajath asked, voice a harmonious rumbling through multiple throats.
"Yes, I believe so. A quick preliminary jaunt, to get the blood flowing- or lymph," I added quickly, seeing the swarmnode begin to object. "No serious surveying today, that can wait for when we're better rested."
That seemed to perk them right up. I did my best to suppress a smile.
*****
The shuttle touched down on Earth's surface, none too gently. Even without tongue flicking, I could taste the excitement.
"Alright," I said, voice tinny through the rebreather. "If anyone experiences any malfunction whatsoever in their life support or their ceptor interface, they're to report it immediately. As always, safety is paramount. Stay within sight of the group at all times unless specifically permitted, and if permitted, stay within comms. Are we all understood?"
A few affirmative gestures; Kajath hummed, Valish's beak clicked. The swarmnode's jellied compound eyes changed color.
I paused for a moment, unable to resist a theatrical flourish. "Alright. Disembark."
******
"What was this settlement called?" Maelorn asked over the comm.
"Instructor spent several lectures on it. And it was one of those discussed in the briefing. Anyone know?"
Quiet for a moment, nobody wanting to admit how little of the reading they'd finished.
"Vaygess?" Valish commed, hesitantly.
"Excellent. Good attempt at the pronunciation, too; we can't be entirely sure, but we think that's fairly close."
I think I saw her preen a bit, while Maelorn looked slightly sullen. Still, everyone was too enraptured with the expedition to care much.
"Not a particularly large settlement, compared to others on this continent. But it was frequented by millions of the dominant life forms."
"Some kind of temple?" Maelorn asked.
"A typical first guess for many researchers. And not impossible, but hard to prove."
Exploration took another two cyrra before we reached the edge of the survey boundary. I contemplated turning us back to the shuttle when Kajath longingly suggested we investigate one of the temple-structures. I could tell he wasn't alone in wanting to. Although it was hardly regulation, I had to admit other crews had done similar things before, and I felt my resolve waver a bit.
"Alright. Only for a moment. It hasn't been recorded yet, so take extra pains not to damage anything."
******
The antechamber was vast, full of banks of strange, primitive machines. Each was tall, positioned before a seat, and has some sort of viewing screen with three small panels on it. Although I was embarrassed to admit it, I couldn't imagine what kind of ritual function such machines could possibly serve.
My assistants were clearly in awe. Deservedly so, perhaps. They were the first life forms in this structure in perhaps two krotaans.
"Professor?" commed Valish.
"Yes?"
"This might not be the time, but... Lectures never mentioned what exactly happened to this world. It wasn't in the briefing either." I sensed the others become interested even as they wandered the temple.
"Oh? You're quite certain of that?"
"Yes," she said, not fully masking a hint of uncertainty.
"Well, you are correct. It's not fully understood what happened. Most likely it was a protracted event, generations of atmospheric pollutants, conflicts involving crude fission-based weapons. But ecological specialists believe the final spark in the pyre-"
I was interrupted. There was a hideous cracking sound and several yelps of terror that set my hearts pounding. The structure's floor had given way under Maelorn. He had fallen into some sort of subterranean room beneath the floor.
******
We were all at the edge of the hole in moments, unable to make out anything below in the low light except some scattered debris. I cursed myself quietly. Maelorn must have been fooling around- why wasn't I watching? Why had I allowed this unauthorized exploration? There would be an inquiry from the Council. Even worse if Maelorn was hurt.
I was suddenly aware of how alone we were on this planet. The nearest help was on the Scroungehound in orbit. We might not even be able to reach them for help. I could neither leave Maelorn alone while some of us went for the shuttle, nor send others alone while I stayed with him. There was no help for us out here. I quelled the urge to panic.
We tried to raise Maelorn by comm several times. On the third or fourth he finally responded, groggily.
"Are you hurt?" I asked.
"I... no. I'm fine. Just shaken. I can stand fine. No injury. I must have done something-"
"Never mind. Can you find a way to hoist yourself out?"
"I don't think so. But I think I see a stairwell leading back up. I... there's something down here with me."
My brain failed to process that fully. For some reason I assumed he meant something alive. "That isn't possible," I protested.
"I mean I can hear humming. See some sort of machinery."
I could make out no such thing in the dark, but Maelorn had better night vision. I vacillated a moment, uncertain whether to worry about getting him out or probing his discovery further. "Can you join your visual feed to ours?"
"I'm not sure... I'll try."
Momentarily a small panel on our vis-screens lit up to show us Maelorn's visual feed, as lit up as it could be. My hearts nearly stopped. I could see what he meant. Through the debris was a stretch of some sort of glowing blue material. It couldn't be... this close to the survey boundary, and nobody had detected it?
Maelorn commed again. "Should I investigate?"
Valish and Kajath and the swarmnode were all looking at me expectantly. The proper answer was no; safety was paramount. Getting Maelorn out was priority. We had already tested protocol too much. Still... this could be the most significant discovery in a dozen Earth expeditions.
"Fine," I said at last. "But be extremely careful."
The panel on the vidscreen changed as Maelorn advanced. I saw his stubby arm shove debris aside. The blue glowing thing was more visible now. At first I could not understand what I was seeing. But... yes. It was some sort of crude, primitive cryosuspension tube. And there was a human being inside it.
*******
It took some very creative tinkering with a tubule of nanostructors to haul Maelorn... and, of course, the cryopod. Cyrra later we were all whole and hale aboard the Scroungehound again, none the worse for our experience, but stunned with disbelief. All of us- myself, the students, even Carth the pilot, staring at the frozen human.
"What exactly is the protocol for this kind of thing?" Maelorn asked, trying to sound humorous.
"There is none," I said. "Not precisely. We've found suspended specimens before, but never from a totally extinct species. We never expected Earthers to have access to this kind of technology. Most surviving samples of their infrastructure have been comparatively primitive. It might be the case that the wealth differentials were significant enough that such advanced technology was restricted to the very highest echelons of society."
We mulled that over for a moment. The Earther looked... oddly menacing, somehow. Everything about it- how the limbs jointed, the shape of the eyes, the shape of the teeth, the texture of the skin and the hair. I had seen reconstructed skeletons, but this was different somehow. I had always prized myself on meeting new discoveries eagerly and with open mind- I believed as a scientist I had excised all fear of the unknown from myself. But I could not suppress some disquiet about the thing in that tube.
"Sir?" Kajath asked, choir-voice raised. I realized he had been trying to get my attention for some time.
"Yes?"
"You never finished your lesson planetside. How did these things die out? How could this one have survived."
I swallowed. "Well. Nobody knows for sure. But some specialists believe there was some sort of disruption in the ecology of the planet. The dominant life forms were... being challenged for their dominant place in the food web, possibly by another indigenous life form. Something mutated by the conditions on the planet, perhaps. The conflict grew so great that the entire chain of life on the planet was disrupted. Entire linchpin species went extinct, maybe through fission weapons, maybe because the rival life form was an effective enough predator to eliminate entire ecosystems. It's only speculation, of course."
"So this one froze itself?"
"Well. Perhaps in the last days of this struggle, it retreated into cryosuspension in an attempt to wait the whole affair out."
That gave us all a moment to think.
"We... you must all be very tired. It was a taxing expedition. Best we get some sleep for now, and when we awaken we can contact someone on the Prime Science Council. They may choose to redefine our mission parameters, or send another ship to pick this up... or something else. We shall see."
I tried to show an optimistic smile for everyone, but the unease in the group was palpable. With no particular hurry, we drifted off to our sleeping quarters.
None of us thought it necessary to keep watch on the thing in the tube. It couldn't go anywhere. The thought never occurred to us.
******
For whatever reason, I did not set the REM-projector on lucid that night. Instead I allowed myself to dream naturally, disturbing, unsettling dreams, in which the Earth-thing in the tube featured prominently. I jolted awake only 3 cyrra into my slumber with Kajath and Carth shaking me.
"What?" I asked, groggy and angry. "What is it-"
"The pod!" Carth growled. "It's hissing! It seems to be opening!"
Panic forced me awake. I bounded into the commons area where we had left the cursed thing. Carth and Kajath and Valish and the swarmnode were behind me. Maelorn was already in the commons, cowering. My first thought was the young fool must have opened it himself, eager to inspect his little discovery.
"What have you done-"
I realized Maelorn was paralyzed with fear, aware of me but not turning to face me. One outstretched limb pointed to the cryopod. It was not opening. It had opened.
We stared in hushed awe as the human, freed of the suspension fluid, glucose-drips still hooked into major veins, writhed in senseless half-sleep. It was making noises. Horrible, disturbing noises that shook me to my core.
I advanced, gently pushing Maelorn behind me. "H... hello," I said. "Are... can you hear me? Are you awake?" What are you thinking, fool? He won't understand you. But he might be able to tell from my tone and body posture that I was not a threat, and I had to say something.
"Hello! Earthman. We are not a threat to you. We... we're archaeologists. Scientists. Are you well?"
I realized that the thing in the tube was still writhing. Not with grogginess. With pain. A thought occurred to me. We believed this frozen Earther was a wealthy example of the species who had retreated from the horrors of natural devastation. But it might be otherwise. Perhaps this thing was not a refugee from the cataclysm, but a victim- a patient taken for study.
That thought entered my head just as the mosquito- proboscis dripping red, eyes staring soullessly, buzzing with angry fury, ripped its way out of the human's torso. The humans had been at war with their most vicious natural competitor- a competitor that had grown too powerful for them to possibly resist. And now it was here.
Attractor help us all.

I've lived in Utah for several years and the WURL has always been at the top of my adventure list. I'm hoping to do it late this summer or early in the fall. However, before I do, I want to scout specific segments of ridges and complete sections of them. I have hiked several of the peaks already (Lone, SuperioMonte Cristo, Devil's Castle, Pfeifferhorn, and Mt. Baldy) but I haven't linked many of those ridgelines together.
I've heard Big Horn and White Baldy can feel sketchy. I know the Castle can be intimidating, and I did read about a death that happened near Dromedary a couple of years back. For those who have done the WURL, what sections would you say were the most difficult or most dangerous that would be worth my while to familiarize myself with before doing the whole thing?

Transmission
by Brian Martinez
Let me start my story by telling you something about me, the most important thing, in fact: I find things, and I fix them. That’s who I am. If you don’t know that, you don’t know me.
I’m a second-generation auto mechanic, born-and-bred. I’ve been repairing cars since before Ford Pintos were blowing up, when cars were made of steel and Route 66 wasn’t just something for the cartoons. These days I’m fortunate enough to own a shop downtown between two of those chain coffee places. It’s small, sure, but it has a reputation for saving cars so far-gone no one else will even touch ‘em. So if you live in the area, and you’ve ever been stuck with the sourest of lemons, or maybe your kid drove your minivan into the pool, we just might have crossed paths, you and I.
That reputation is what led to me getting a phone call from a guy I’d never met, saying he had something that might interest me. His name was Burt and he’d apparently just purchased a piece of property that sat unowned for the better part of twenty years. I knew of the area he was talking about. It’s out in the hills, where there isn’t much to look at. Most of the land there went to weed years ago; acres and acres of old woods and burnt-down barns just waiting for nobody in particular to see the value in them. And, well, it seems Burt was that nobody in particular.
I honestly didn’t know what Burt’s purchase had to do with me, and told him just that, figuring he must have had the wrong number. But the next words out of his mouth told me he knew exactly who he was talking to.
Apparently when old Burt started walking around his new property, digging around in the dirt, so to speak, he made an interesting discovery. So interesting, in fact, that it got me to grab my keys, hop in my truck, and drive up into the hills without so much as a pause to wash my hands.
Some things, you see, don’t wait for a man to look presentable.
As I drove up into the hills to meet Burt, I started to think about my father and the drives he used to take me on. He liked to get a feel for whichever car he was working on, and those drives, they always ended with a detour into the hills. ‘Nothing tests a vehicle like elevation,’ he used to say, and I have to admit, I still agree with that statement. All those long inclines, sharp turns and fast descents- not to mention the occasional slam on the brakes- really put a car through its paces.
Dad knew a thing or two about cars, even if he knew nothing about how to raise a family.
Other than maybe a slight fear of commitment, the main thing I got from my father was a passion for restoring old cars in my spare time. It’s a hobby of mine, and I do it in the garage at my house. I’m especially a sucker for rare cars, and the rarer the better. That little hobby of mine, more so than my day business, was why I ended up driving out to the middle of nowhere with dirty hands and a head full of ideas.
The road up was just as long and winding as I remembered. I almost missed the entrance for the property, a hidden driveway marked with little more than a broken mailbox and a rotting signpost. The private road got smaller and smaller by the minute until I swore the trees were going to swallow me whole and spit the bones back out.
When I finally reached what could pass for a clearing, a guy with a face like a junkyard dog was waiting for me next to the newest, cleanest Ford pick-up I’d seen outside of a dealership. He introduced himself to me as Eddie, an associate of old Burt. I told him I’d been expecting to meet Burt himself, but Eddie explained that Burt didn’t like to meet new people, and rarely came out in the cold weather. It was a bit raw, I had to admit, so I dropped the whole thing and let Eddie get down to the business at hand.
We left our cars behind and Eddie led me into the woods, where the walking was slow-going on account of the overgrowth of vines and dead branches. I’m not one to spook easily, but the more we walked the creepier those woods got, until I was fairly sure Eddie was going to use that French Mastiff face of his to tear my throat out. But just when I was thinking about turning back and saying screw it to the whole thing, I caught sight of what we’d come for.
The very first car I saw was a white, 1974 Pontiac Trans-Am. It was missing its door and tires, and it was buried under a layer of dead vines, but the body shape was unmistakable. Under the rust I could even see what was left of the telltale Firebird emblazoned across its hood in blue.
I couldn’t believe a car like that was just sitting out in the middle of the woods, waiting for anyone to come along and find it. As I got closer, though, I saw just how bad the condition of the car was. The insides were rotted out from rain and mold, and the floor was so eaten up by rust it was ready to fall out.
Before my brain could process the loss of such a beautiful machine, I caught sight of another car. This one was a Datsun 210 with a tree growing right through the hole where its trunk used to be. Wet leaves and newspaper filled the back seat, and the dashboard was an abandoned nest that crawled with leggy insects.
Old Burt hadn’t been pulling my leg: those woods were a graveyard for abandoned cars. From what I could tell, about three acres of woods were absolutely littered with the corpses of old autos. Some were in pieces, most were covered in dead leaves and rust and all the other things that happen when anything is left outside for years and years, but they were there. The sight of so many classic cars in one place, virtually unknown to anyone, both excited and saddened me.
For close to an hour I walked around random piles of tires and glass to stare at rusted-out Range Rovers and Jeeps with their headlights hanging out like popped eyeballs. Finally, like I’d woken up from a spell, I asked Eddie what Burt expected from me. And that’s when he told me the strangest, most interesting offer he could have told me in that moment.
He said if I could make every, single one of those cars disappear in three day’s time, at no cost to old Burt, I could keep them.
The words nearly knocked me off my feet. I’d have to call in every favor to every salvage yard and tow truck operator I knew, but it was possible. Still, nearly all of the cars I’d seen were beyond repair, even for a guy like me. At most I saw some parts that could be salvaged. Maybe a few of the newer, less damaged ones could be saved. I knew a few guys in my circle who might be interested, and I figured if I played my cards right I could make a few bucks out of the deal to boot- or at least land a good trade or two. Still, there weren’t any cars that I was interested in for myself.
Until, at the edge of the property, tucked away in a spot I’d nearly overlooked, I saw it. It was as if I’d been drawn there. Like I was meant to find it.
The car was familiar-looking, yet like nothing I’d ever seen. Cross a Chevelle Malibu Classic SE with the modern retro feel of the ‘97 Plymouth Prowler, add the large rear spoiler and flared wheel arches of a ‘99 Nissan Skyline GT-R, and you still won’t come close. It looked like something one of the big three manufacturers had made and yet I’d never seen or heard of its like ever before. It had no logos, no hood ornament, no identification of any kind. I practically ran around to the back of it to look for a name, a logo, something to identify it, tripping over hidden rocks and broken glass to do it.
But there was nothing. Nothing to betray the make and mark of the strange car in front of me. I even asked Eddie if he knew what it was. He only shrugged, clearly wanting to wrap up our little outdoor meeting. I half-heartedly agreed. It was later than I’d realized. Between the dwindling sun and the discovery I’d made, I’d started to get a chill I couldn’t shake. I had a bad tooth I’d been neglecting, and even that was starting to hurt from the cold.
So I agreed to Burt’s deal. I shook Eddie’s hand on it and got out of there, giving one last glance at the strange car in the woods on the way out.
The next day, after making more phone calls than a politician on election night, a swarm of flatbeds, wheel-lifts and salvage trucks descended on those woods. For two days they scooped out every piece of metal and glass in the place, while I oversaw the operation like a choir conductor from hell. I directed trucks this way and cutting crews that way. They snipped and cut and tore out every dead tree standing in the way so the truck crews could do the rest. I even got in there myself with the old chainsaw when it was needed.
It was an exhausting two days, but I managed to keep my word to Burt and clear every abandoned car off his property with about an hour to spare. Some of the cars went to the junkyard, others to various garages I’d made arrangements with.
I was dead on my feet by the time I got home. I was ready for a shower and a bed, in what order I wasn’t sure. And yet a crackle of energy went through me when I saw what had been dropped off in my garage.
My mystery car. Without the shadows of the woods hiding it, I could see it had been painted silver before the rust took over. It had been a fast sucker once, like a bullet to a werewolf’s chest. That had been a long time ago, and yet I sensed there was still some life in the old girl. I wanted so badly to start digging around under the hood, to see what I could find out, but my legs were ready to collapse and my eyes could barely focus. Intending to wake up early and hit the garage, I stumbled off to bed.
You know that feeling you get when you realize someone’s been talking to you for the past minute, thinking you’ve been listening, and you only just figured it out?
That’s the feeling I woke up to.
I sat straight up like a vampire rising from his coffin. My bedroom was still dark, which meant it was the middle of the night. In my half-sleep I tried to make out the clock on my nightstand but couldn’t read the numbers, so I fumbled for my glasses and shoved them on. It was just past two in the morning: way too early, even for me. No way was I getting up, strange feeling or no.
I was about to take my glasses off and lay back down when I heard the reason I’d woken up.
Whispering.
A man was in my room, whispering in the dark. I lunged across my bed and turned on the lamp, nearly knocking it over. I didn’t have a weapon, but if I could see the intruder I could do something about it. I spun back, back to the whispering, to see who it was, to shout at them or jump on them, whatever I had to do to save my life from the psycho in my bedroom.
But the room was empty. Just me and a pounding heart.
I was so confused, I jumped out of bed and tore around the room, making sure no one was hiding, but I didn’t find anyone. I was alone.
Then I heard it again, and I knew: the whispers were coming from down the hall.
With bare feet I followed it, trying to make out what it was saying, but it was too low to understand. I grabbed a knife as I passed through the kitchen and held it in front of me with sweat beading on my face despite how cold I kept the house.
I followed the whispering to the garage. The overhead light flickered on, lighting up the strange car in my garage. In my half-sleep, half-terror I’d nearly forgotten about it. But there it was, like a bear hibernating in its cave, waiting for the end of winter. It felt alive somehow. Not dead, just asleep and dreaming.
And it was whispering.
I knew how crazy that sounded, how crazy that was, but I swallowed hard and approached the car, knife first. The blade shook in front of me. The whispering got louder the closer I got, and yet I still couldn’t understand the words it was saying. Was someone hiding inside the car? Had I inherited a homeless man when I’d had it towed to my house? If so I had to get him out of there. Get him help, sure, make sure he had a place to sleep, but he couldn’t stay in my garage, whispering through the night. No way.
With my free hand I yanked on the driver’s side door. It didn’t open. Rusted shut. I slowly walked around to the passenger side and yanked again. It opened.
The whispering was louder now, louder but not clearer, like an old television tuned between channels, like a frequency not being picked up, like a…
Like a radio.
The whispers were coming from the radio. I laughed under my breath, realizing how ridiculous I’d been. But then I remembered there was no way the radio could be working. The car wasn’t turned on. If it even had a battery under the hood, it was probably little more than a square pile of rust and battery acid.
I clutched the kitchen knife tight, and with the other hand I slowly reached out to turn the volume knob. I needed to know if the whispers were coming from the radio, and if they were, I needed to know what they were saying. My temple throbbed as the whispers grew louder and louder, louder and louder, louder and-
The moment my finger touched the knob, the whispers stopped.
I felt like I was going crazy. I looked around the inside of the car, noting the strong smell of mildew and animal with a tinge of rotten leather. Other than my own breath echoing back at me, it was silent.
No whispers. No nothing.
I went back to bed, but I barely slept.
The next day was the day I usually took off from the shop, which was a relief since I woke up almost as tired as when I’d gone to bed. As I ate my breakfast, the night before still sat fresh in my mind. But the more I went over it, the more I thought it had been a bad dream, brought on by exhaustion and an imagination run wild. I had to admit the mystery car sitting in my garage had gotten my mind racing faster than a Formula 1.
I’m the kind of guy who likes a simple explanation, something I can touch and feel and, yes, fix, so I started to think that I could have picked up some kind of rogue radio transmission from a trucker, or even a passing plane. The police scanner I owned in my younger days had certainly picked up its share of random broadcasts, and when it comes to working on junkers I’ve learned to expect the unexpected.
After I’d eaten my breakfast and downed my coffee I got right to work on the car. I wanted to clear the air of whatever had happened, and I was dying to see what that baby had going on under the hood. The mystery of who the hell had made the thing was still heavy on me.
But the enigma only deepened the more I looked. Under all that rust and dirt and oil I couldn’t find one damn mark that told me who’d made the car. I almost wanted to say it was a custom build, but the work was too precise, the system too well-planned out to be an after-market job.
I worked on it all day, so wrapped up in it I forgot to eat lunch. I ate dinner like a raccoon digging through a dumpster. Then I worked on it some more.
I was just crawling into bed when I heard it again.
The whispering.
This time I ignored it, hoping it would go away on its own. But it didn’t stop. Not until I got up, walked across my house, went into the garage, and touched the radio. Then, it stopped.
I decided right then and there not to go to the shop the next day. There was just too much work to be done.
I’d been working on the car for four days straight before I got it started up. Four days of stripping and cleaning and rebuilding. Four nights of whispering. I was even starting to hear it during the day, but low, barely audible, like a television playing somewhere in the house.
After I got the engine started, the first thing I did was pull my code reader down from my tool wall and hook it up to the dashboard input. I’d been pleasantly surprised to find an input on the car, even though I was fairly certain it had been built after '96. To my shock the screen filled up with a bunch of random trouble codes I’d never seen before, then went blank. I tried to get it powered up again but apparently the connection had completely overloaded the device.
I’d had the reader for years and it had never given me a problem. I put it down and got back to the car, deciding to stick to the old-fashioned way and get a feel for what was wrong with it. Just like dad used to do.
With my foot on the gas I revved the engine good. It sounded better than I’d expected, like a beast waking up from deep sleep. But there was also something rattling around under the hood, something loose knocking around inside the carburetor or possibly even the manifold.
I tried a few options, opening up this and that, until I narrowed it down to something completely unexpected: the transmission.
With considerable force I managed to open up the transmission, and sure enough I found something inside. Something dark and red. I pulled it out and studied it under the light. It looked like a small rock covered in old transmission fluid. How it got in there I didn’t have a clue. But I decided to clean it off and get a better look at it, in case it pointed to a bigger problem. As I walked it to the slop sink, I noticed the whispering, usually a dull static during the day, had started to grow louder. I could almost make out individual words now. But I ignored it and ran the small rock under the faucet, watching the dark red fluid swirl down the drain.
That was when I discovered something I wasn’t prepared for. The thing in my hand wasn’t a rock- it was a tooth.
A human tooth.
The whispers had grown so loud I could barely hear myself think, barely feel the disgust rising in the pit of my stomach. With the whispers practically shouting in my ear I dropped the tooth and it bounced and clattered inside the sink, coming to a rest near the edge of the drain.
The whispers grew quiet again. A dull roar tickling at the back of my skull. I stared at it, the tooth in the sink, the impossible tooth from the impossible car. I had the urge to throw it out. To get it out of my house and never see it again. But I didn’t do that. I couldn’t tell you why not.
Maybe because that meant touching it again.
Maybe something else.
Feeling like I should give the car a rest, I worked on getting my code reader working again, otherwise I’d have to run to the store and buy a new one. I changed out the batteries and gave it a good, solid whack. A few seconds later I was happy to see the screen turn on. I thought I’d have to do a factory reset to use it again but I was surprised to find it worked perfectly fine. Not only that, the trouble codes it had read off the car were still stored in its memory.
There were pages and pages of codes like I’d never seen in my life, more than I think are even in the tool’s programming. In fact I couldn’t find a single one of them anywhere in the manual. I figured they were probably just random numbers, and yet there was something strange about them, like they had a pattern to them. I dusted off my old computer and typed in the problem codes, figuring if I could get a better look at them I might be able to figure out their meaning. If not, I could at least print them out and show them to somebody who could.
After twenty minutes I’d barely made a dent in typing up all the codes. I gave up on the idea that I could copy them all. I pushed away from my computer and stood up, rubbing my eyes from the strain. Between the glare of the old screen and the noise in my ears, my head was killing me. It all felt so pointless. So inconsequential.
Just before I shut the computer down, I happened to glance one last time at the screen. And when I did, I noticed something that made my skin go cold.
The codes. The pattern. The numbers and letters and spaces between them. They were starting to form a face. A human face, with two eyes and a screaming-
I shut the computer down as fast as I could, then unplugged it to be safe. Then I marched to the garage and disconnected the radio, practically ripping it out of the car.
The whispers stopped.
The house was quiet.
But not for long.
For three days I told myself to get rid of that car, tow it out of my garage and dump it somewhere no one could find it. Maybe even drench it in gasoline and light a match. For three days I ignored the whispers and the doorbell and the phone calls from my shop asking when I was coming back. For three days I buried my head under the hood and worked and worked and worked.
On the fourth day, when the whispers from the radio had grown louder than my own thoughts, louder but still unclear, without words I could understand, I lost it. I threw my wrench at the tool wall, knocking down chisels and socket wrenches and a dozen other tools clattering to the ground. I pounded on my ears, cursing them, willing them to go deaf and stop hearing the whispers.
But they didn’t stop hearing. And the whispers didn’t stop. So I decided. I decided that if I couldn’t stop hearing them, I at least needed to know what they were saying.
I went back to the slop sink. The tooth was still there, perched near the edge of the drain. I’d prayed for it to slip down and wash away on its own but there it was, round and sharp and real as ever. So I picked it up, and the whispers grew louder. Clearer. But still not clear enough to hear. Not enough to make out what the radio was saying. To understand what it wanted from me. It was like a broken antenna, only tuning in half the frequency.
The garage was a mess. I was a mess. Rancid grease stains everywhere. A hole in my tool wall where the wrench had struck it, the ground littered with hammers and screwdrivers and …
Pliers.
Before I could talk myself out of it, I grabbed the pliers from the ground, shoved it onto my mouth, got a good hold of my bad tooth, and ripped it out. It was easier than I expected, but it still hurt, and it bled a lot. But I didn’t hesitate. I pushed the tooth I’d found in the transmission into its place.
The moment I did, it was as if everything came into focus. As if the radio was inside my skull. No, as if my skull was the radio, and I was the antenna. I could hear the transmission clear as day now, a man’s voice inside my head.
Whispering to me.
Telling me where to find the rest of him.
I told you all of this, not because I expect you to believe me, but because I’m about to walk out my door and do something I might not come back from. And if that’s the case, if I don’t return today or any other day from this thing I need to do, I want people to know why.
Because I find things. I find things and fix them. If you don’t know that, you don’t know me.

(Shoutouts to u/TheSlyKoopa for the match concept!)
Scenario: Isla de Piedra, Somewhere in the Mediterranean Sea — 11:44AM
Dédalo Viatger, adventurer, archaeologist and explorer extraordinaire, had filled his travelog with countless exploits on his never-ending quest to uncover the secrets of the ancient world. Following the trail of the lost civilization of Pieduro was proving to be his lengthiest entry yet. Armed with powerful Pieduron artifacts known as the Temples, Dédalo and the Pieduron entity ｢Perdida｣ had forged a path across the Mediterranean, getting ever closer to solving the mystery of their disappearance.
With assistance from Cullinan Dwarf Star, Patron of the House of Muses, Dédalo and Perdida were on the verge of discovering the final piece of the puzzle. Their journey had come full circle, and Dédalo and Perdida’s adventure would end where it began; on the island of Isla de Piedra.
Situated between the coasts of Southern Spain and North Africa, Isla de Piedra had been uninhabited for all of recorded history, though not for lack of trying. The dense forests and greenery that covered every square meter of the island made it a ripe target for logging companies and greedy colonists to strip it for all it was worth. None had succeeded—their abandoned camps had long since been reclaimed by the forest.
The only other sign of human life on the island was the ancient Pieduron outpost where Dédalo’s journey first began, and where it would now hopefully end. The trek to get there was as difficult as the first time—but he didn’t have to do it alone now. At his side were his ever faithful companion Perdida, the inquisitive swordswoman Ninian, the extraordinary android 2095, and the illustrious ice skater Electra (although he didn’t call them that out loud).
Dédalo led the party up a long, winding stone staircase, pointing out the many partially-disabled traps along the way. He and Ninian had long been in contact, and the latter could personally vouch for her +1s—2095 one of the few Bastards she could trust and Electra having earned her trust in for her actions against Enyalius & Enyo Pharmaceuticals in San Battista.
“...and here’s a wall of spikes that shoot out when you pass over that threshold,” he pointed out with a tour guide’s enthusiasm. “I managed to jam up the mechanism with some cloth, but we should probably tread carefully around here.”
Electra rolled her eyes, even though Dédalo couldn’t see the gesture. “Should have just blown it up,” she muttered, annoyed. While her experiences in San Battista had somewhat melted her frosty demeanor, it had still been a long, hot, exhausting trip to get here, and old habits died hard.
“Watch your tone, miss,” Perdida said from behind her ear, making her jump. “My people’s architecture is not something to “blow up”.”
“And it might not have worked,” 2095 chimed in. “If this outpost could survive all those centuries of wear, I doubt a mundane explosion would do much damage to it.”
“The Piedurons built everything to last, from their treasures to their traps.” Dédalo gingerly ducked under the blade of a massive pendulum axe that jutted out from the ceiling. “Fortunate in some ways, unfortunate in others.”
At last, they reached the center chamber. Carved from stone and coated with moss, it appeared just as untouched as the rest of the outpost—save for the podium in the middle of the chamber and the conspicuously empty space on top of it, where the moss grew a little bit thinner.
“Ah, this brings back memories,” Dédalo chuckled. “This is where Perdida and I first met. The El Cor Terra necklace lay in this very spot at the heart of the chamber. When I unfastened it, poof! There she appeared in all of her resplendent glory. We hit it off right away.”
“He tried to cut my head off with a machete.”
“In self-defense!”
“Ok, move it along, lovebirds,” Electra huffed. “Where’s the thing we were looking for? It’s somewhere in here, right?”
Brushing past the “lovebirds” comment, Dédalo retrieved a piece of parchment from his explorer’s pack marked with the symbol of the House of Muses. “According to Cullinan, the hidden door should be right over on that wall.” He pointed over 2095’s shoulder at the northern wall of the chamber. “The question is…how do we open it?”
2095 gave the room a once-over. Aside from the layer of moss and vegetation covering the chamber, it was pretty bare. Its only noticeable feature seemed to be the podium.
“Perhaps the podium could offer some answers.” The party gathered around the stone podium—a stone cylinder, atop which stood a carving which vaguely resembled the neck and collarbone area of a human, with a thin groove running where a necklace would hang. Perdida instantly recognized the Cleria stone inlays around the circumference of the podium.
She traced a finger along the length of the groove, and the Cleria stone beneath it glowed—and, at a volume only audible to 2095’s mechanical hearing, it began to hum.
“Keep going, Perdida,” she whispered. Perdida closed her eyes, feeling herself attune to the place where she lay dormant for thousands of years. The Cleria stone grew brighter and brighter, the hum getting louder and louder.
Suddenly, the room shook. Electra leaped back, expecting another trap. Instead, she watched as the north wall slid open like the doors of an elevator, revealing two hallways; one leading up, the other leading down, both with Cleria stone markings along the walls that pulsed with a gentle light.
“Thank goodness,” Dédalo sighed. “I was worried the real treasure was going to be the friends we made along the way.”
Dédalo and Perdida continued to trek up the hallway, climbing what was likely the control tower of the outpost. Ninian dutifully followed behind them, ready to draw her blade at whatever might strike from the newly unknown section of the outpost. The sound of exhaled breath made her jump...but it was only a sigh from Dédalo. “A shame you came aboard so late, Ninian; our journey’s almost up.”
Ninian’s confusion spiked to alarm as the explorer motioned to lean against the wall. “Watch out-”
Dédalo made contact and nothing happened. He tilted his head to the end of the corridor, a doorway just a few meters away. “We’re far enough in that we’ve most likely avoided the worst of the traps. Besides, I don’t think the Piedurons would have placed many traps so close to a place of importance.” He wistfully rubbed his arm, massaging the strain of adventures and injuries in equal measure. “Feels almost bittersweet. So many months of travel and turmoil, and the end of our journey is in sight.”
“Hey, don’t say that yet. We still need to find a way to get my human body back.” Pedida gently punched him in his shoulder. Still, her pout eventually softened as she looked back towards the final chamber. “I guess you are correct, though. The answer to the Pieduron collapse lies beyond those doors. What comes after…nobody knows”
“Quite right,” Dédalo nodded, and the group moved onwards. “I hope that Electra and 2095 are doing okay down there, in any case.”
“I hope that the rest of the outpost is okay,” Perdida frowned. “They didn’t seem to appreciate how precious this place is—I don’t want to lose another one.”
“I don’t think we have to worry too much about losing them,” A grin of cat-like mischief unfurled on Ninian’s face as hoarse laughter echoed on a draft. There were adventures to come and to be seen, but one to reach its conclusion here and now, and the anticipation made Ninian’s hair stand on end.
The group carefully entered the room, and Perdida flickered out of existence. Before any of them could respond, the control room flickered to life. The stone walls that extended higher and higher suddenly turned “on” as if they were screens, but these were more akin to slabs whose light-emitting runes and rocks flickered and changed in the appearance of Perdida—Perdidas, in fact. All of them, on the many screens, acted in unison as Dédalo rushed forward. “Dédalo, what’s going on?”
“We’re figuring it out,” he shouted as he and Ninian raced to the panels below, trying to decipher the text streaming by. Soon, however, one message displayed on a readout screen:

MYSTICALLY AUTOMATED KNOWLEDGE SYSTEM 0 DETECTED
RESUMING RING FUNCTIONALITY

Meanwhile, having taken the outpost’s lower path, 2095 and Electra entered into a large atrium. Like the rest of the outpost, the walls and floor were composed of the usual, teal stone that seemed impossibly durable. The fact that they could use it to form buildings, carve intricate murals, and keep it all hidden was impressive, but they craned their heads upwards towards the skylight that would let rain and sun in. Through the overgrown foliage, they could see a massive flat ring of Cleria floating above the ground in stubborn defiance of the laws of physics. Gravity-defying gyroscopes of stone spun and swirled in the air above, rotating with the same slow grace as the ancient gears that whirred to life around them. The glow of the Cleria blended together with the light of the noonday sun; the hum of power permeated the entire chamber.
“...shit,” Electra murmured, not sure what else to say.
2095 scanned the rest of the atrium, but ultimately found nothing beyond a discolored, glowing pad on the floor by the opposite wall, outcroppings on the walls that resembled benches, and the remnants of what appeared to be ancient drinking fountains. Rest now before it’s too late, the room seemed to scream.
“I believe we should wait for the others before we go deeper,” 2095 announced. “We could retrace our steps and explore the previous areas, in case we missed another hidden passageway or an undiscovered treasure. It would be a shame to proceed not knowing whether we’ve left every stone unturned-”
“Not a chance,” Electra huffed. “I’m not letting us get killed because of your FOMO. Come on.”
She grabbed 2095 by the wrist and began to drag her over to the pads. 2095 let her—partly because she weighed significantly more than Electra did and she didn’t want her to hurt herself trying to pull her by force, but partly because she was right. She could feel the air buzzing with energy, intensifying by the second. Something big was about to happen.
The two stepped onto the floor pad and immediately felt themselves being shunted into a different space as the teleporter activated. When their vision cleared, they found themselves standing on top of the Cleria ring itself. Electra could smell the ozone in the air and taste the prickling on her tongue. This ring was the key to the whole mechanism—either it was powering the outpost…or the outpost was powering it.
2095 gazed in awe at the machinery surrounding them. It reminded her of the technology from her time; except instead of steel and chrome, it was made of rock and crystal. What secrets died with the Piedurons when they disappeared?
She turned to Electra to express her wonder and nearly screamed when she saw the vantablack vines burst out of her shadowed face, ready to smash the ring to pieces.
“What are you doing?!” 2095 yelled, ｢Yours Truly｣ appearing at her side, tentacles raised.
“I’m destroying this thing, duh,” spat Electra. “I know a superweapon when I see one, and I’m not about to let some dipshit corporation get their hands on it after we leave.”
The chamber shook, bits of rocks and dust falling from the ceiling. “B-but we don’t even know whether this is a superweapon! Aren’t you acting a bit rash?”
“Rash? Seriously? You have no idea what some people in Dead Drop Bay would do for an artifact like this.” Electra remembered what she saw in San Battista—the monster that she had to put down, fuelled by a desire to abuse the remnants of the past for her own gain. “Farewell to Kings, Dead Man’s Hand; hell, even my own company. They’d sink this island to the bottom of the ocean for the chance to have this thing for themselves. This way, I’m solving the problem before it has a chance to start.”
“And risk destroying the legacy of an entire civilization?!” 2095 felt anger boiling in her metallic chest. A part of her resonated with the Piedurons in this moment—she knew what it was like to be a relic of an era far from the present, the last remaining piece of a time nobody would ever know. “What gives you the right to decide what to do with an artifact of this magnitude? To bury what could be the last hope of Pieduro to be remembered as anything but a footnote in history?”
The chamber shook again—this time, both 2095 and Electra felt the ground shift under their feet. Without warning, walls of stone burst out of the ground around them, tearing through centuries-old roots and vines to surround the ring on all sides. Slabs of Cleria stone with deep divots carved into the top of them emerged from the ring itself and floated just above its surface like a magnet levitating atop another.
In the control tower below them, Dédalo and Ninian scrambled from panel to panel, desperately trying to decipher what was going on. Dédalo could see the two other members of the party facing off inside the ring—but before he could call out to them, he heard Perdida’s voice resonate from every screen.
“The Temples…I can see them.”
Ninian watched the panel in front of her light up, displaying a holographic map of the Mediterranean, hundreds of glowing blue dots scattered across the projection.
Dédalo rushed to the nearest screen and grabbed it. “Perdida! Are you alright?!”
“Y-yes, I’m fine.” Perdida blinked hard, putting a hand to the side of her head. “I can feel every Temple in the Mediterranean. I…I think I can gain access to them from here.”
“Access? Like…you can turn them on?” Ninian asked.
“Yes. All of them.” Before Perdida could say any more, the chamber shook once more. In the room below, the ring glowed even more brightly, the two would-be explorers now utterly trapped within it by the sloped walls surrounding it.
“See what I mean?!” Electra clenched her fists, snapping flytrap jaws emerging from the shadow underneath her. “We need to put this entire place in the ground. For good. And like hell am I going to let you stop me!”
Suddenly, all across the surface of the ring, crackling orbs of energy sparked to life, both 2095 and Electra just managing to avoid them. The orbs spun in a circle around the ring, accelerating rapidly until they were nothing but a blur. 2095 recognized the movements of the orbs immediately; it looked like a particle accelerator.
“I hoped we could resolve this peacefully, Electra.” 2095 flicked the silver locks out of her face. “But now I have to convince you in the only language you seem to understand—the language of violence. Don’t hold back.”
The age-old machinery around them hummed to a crescendo. If either of the two combatants wanted to see their convictions through, they would need to survive the full power of Pieduro first.
OPEN THE GAME!
Location: On Isla de Piedra, (Shoutouts to u/TheSlyKoopa for the match art) inside the Floating Ring. The arena shown here has Electra on the north side and 2095 on the south side represented by their character tokens. The players are in the area inside the ring and have no way to exit with sloping walls on all sides.
The ring has a diameter of 60 meters and the internal width is 15 meters; the entire structure is A Durability.
The brown rectangles inside the ring are Pieduron Temples that resemble short, knee-tall minecarts made out of stone slabs.
Goal: RETIRE your opponent!
Additional Information: Over the course of 10 minutes, the ring will spawn 6-inch diameter orbs of light that will accelerate and move in an orbit around the ring at A Speed. Each orb takes 4 seconds to spawn-in, glowing in place and translucent, before it becomes a solid orb.
Trajectory of the orbs move completely along the curvature of the ring, counterclockwise (denoted by the arrows on the map) and can be spawned anywhere inside the ring. When they hit something solid, they will detonate at C Power—powerful enough to destroy vines and ink left by ｢Venus Fly Trap｣ and tentacles from ｢Yours Truly｣—and cause another orb to spawn where the original one started. The orbs have a blast radius of half a meter and other orbs exploding around them will not trigger them to detonate.
Orbs will complete one revolution around the ring anywhere from 3 seconds (inside track) to 6 seconds (along the rim).
Assuming you are standing still, the rough number of orbs that pass by will be 5 orbs per second at the first minute mark, 10 orbs per second at the second minute mark, and so on until the maximum of 50 orbs per second at the ten minute mark.
Starting near each player and around the map are Pieduron temples that resemble minecarts. Each kart can comfortably fit one person, have a handle on either side, and a single rudder-like steering peripheral. The wheels of the kart will always stick to the ring, but they can drive just fine along the walls or even the ceiling of the ring. Karts move at up to B Speed and players intuitively have a 4 in driving them. At max speed, karts can complete one revolution in 4 to 8 seconds (4 seconds on the inside track and 8 seconds on the rim).
All karts have three other special features that can be activated when a driver is steering it, the Turtle, the Spider, and the Crab:

• The Turtle is a forcefield-like shield that can cover the kart and anybody riding inside it. This forcefield only protects against the fast moving orbs and their explosions and is intangible to everything else. It lasts up to 2 seconds and has a 6 second cooldown before it can be activated again. It can also be set to automatically activate if the minecart is about to hit or be affected by an orb, otherwise it can be manually activated by the driver.
  
• The Spider is a net-like shield that functions somewhat similarly to the forcefield the Turtle. The main difference is that instead of blocking orbs, it catches them and converts them into an inert palm-sized orb that is stowed inside the minecart. This shield does also block explosions produced by orbs, but will not produce an inert orb in those cases. The Spider lasts up to 1 second and shares a cooldown with the Turtle. Inert orbs are orbs that can be converted back into fast moving orbs by being thrown with force and intent. They can be made to move exactly in a straight line or along the curvature of the ring when thrown. Inert orbs have no other special properties, other than being A Durability.
  
• The Crab is a fast sideways dash up to 8 meters, with a minimum distance of 1 meter. Once the dash is finished, the kart will resume moving in the direction and speed it had before initiating the dash, making it useful for dodging without turning or changing the direction the kart is going in. This feature has a stamina bar where the longer your dash distance is, the more stamina will be used up. It takes 4 seconds for the stamina bar to fill up from empty.
  

The cooldowns and stamina bars are tied to the person, not the karts themselves.

Team	Combatant	JoJolity
Anvil Procession	Electra Heart	"I need to master this Spin..." Have a good plan for how to avoid and deal with the orbs spinning around you!
Bastards of Barcas	10538-2095	"The secret to the Steel Ball is the search for infinity..." Have a good plan for how to avoid and deal with the orbs spinning around you!

Link to Official Player Spreadsheet
Link to Match Schedule
As always, if you would like to interact with the tournament community and be among the first to get updates for the tournament, please feel free to PM a member of our Judge staff for an invite to our Official Discord Server!

Also after today, nearly every single blue state now has legal weed. Can we expect more red states to start legalizing now?

[←Chapter 48] [Cover Art] [My Links] [Index] [Discord] [Subreddit] [Chapter 50→]
As soon as he placed the tip of the blade against the stone, a crawling dread swept over. He held it there for a moment, trying to tabulate the functions of the tool, but nothing but raw guesswork remained to him. He heard the footsteps of the children and their minders vanishing up the stairs.
“You ready?” he asked Innie.
“No. But don't let that stop you,” she said, wide amber eyes fixed on the door.
There was nothing for it - Efrain steadied his hand and pressed the black blade into the stone. It was a relatively simple application of magic, almost instinctual, to activate the tool. He projected down into the chisel end, where stiff filaments would pierce the wall and sink deep within. This defeated the function of the chisel, but he already suspected that some of the features were more ornamental.
The next part was slightly more complicated, angling the blade up and down until he’d pressed the furled tips to the smooth surface. They sank in as well, leaving him holding the blade spine nearly parallel to the wall. Slowly, taking painstaking care not to twist the metal, he drew it down.
The stone split apart and drew back, guided through the furls and out, revealing a thin line in the stone. There was a silent thrill that fought against the dread as the hairline crack grew larger and larger. Finally, he reached the floor, and drew the knife out of the stone with minimal resistance.
With one last look at his partner, he placed both hands on the door and began to push.
There was a grinding squeal as the heavy stones slid open and out. Past, there was a thick darkness that blotted out most of the detail, even with the magelight active. Efrain took two steps and raised it high, its luminosity increasing as it rose. Even so, it flickered as the smothering cold poured out of the chamber, casting wavering shadows on the surrounding stone walls.
A moment of grim satisfaction availed him - he had surmised correctly about the room being some sort of important tomb. Large alcoves with carved-relief tombs marched off into the dark, twinned pillars marking each and every one. A vaulted ceiling spanned the passage, faded mosaics depicting unknown scenes of times past.
In fact, it would’ve been a place that Efrain could easily see himself working in. Painstakingly brushing off the faded paint and chipped stone, recreating the designs in book after book. Days and nights of note taking, trying to piece together the story of what this place was and why it was here. Unfortunately, the beauty of that vision was marred by the hostile darkness that wrapped around the vault.
He and Innie cautiously crept forward, the light above his head pushing back the heavy shadows. Her fur stood on end, amber eyes inspecting every little pittance, every corner past where something might hide. Efrain was much the same way, expecting something to detach itself from the stone and give chase.
Yet, there was nothing, no movement, no sudden gleam of hostile eyes. Just the stone, and the ever deepening cold.
Finally, they reached the depths of the tomb, a handful of steps that lead down into a wider room. In the muddy light he cast, he saw something large and round, sitting slumped over what looked to be an altar of some kind. There was no aggression that he could feel, no stirring of the thing in response to their presence, just the cold that poured off it.
As he entered through the arched steps, he realised that the thing was making sounds. A wet, gurgling noise, that was rather uncomfortably reminiscent of the creatures from the fog. The sound of a throat that had been crushed and twisted by the weight of its deformities. Still, it lacked the rage that came with the things that had crashed on the church roof or swarmed its outer wall.
Efrain took another few steps and stood before the round mass, slightly taller than he was, peering closely as its features came into relief. When he realised what it was, he felt a stomach that no longer existed turn over on itself. There were pale bumps and ridges where there might’ve been anatomical landmarks at one point. Various malformed limbs jutted out and merged back into the structure, some recognizable, some alien. The flesh shuddered and writhed as he neared it, groans and gurgles exiting various gashes and holes in its surface.
What was far, far worse, however, was what he discovered when he looked within.
Innie must’ve discovered it at the same time, issuing a violent wail of disgust and grief. Efrain staggered away, trying to steady himself on one of the pillars as his vision swam. The self-hatred, the sorrow, the unbelievable nauseating pain that issued from the thing was enough to make him wish he never came here. Its magic was even worse - an indescribable warped abomination that should’ve never been borne into existence.
It took a herculean effort to remain standing, fighting the physically impossible urge to sink to his knees and vomit. Innie was slamming herself into a pillar in a mad horror, and his gaze slid to the knife in his hand. The terrible revelation was like an explosion in his mind.
He could almost see the priest raising the knife, almost seeing the gears of thought turning in his head. If it could join and separate stone, what else could it pull asunder? A terrible demon, removed from a child, think of the praise, think of the tithes, think of the reaffirmation of the faith!
Innie lay on the ground, curled and shivering, her wails fallen into a grim silence, punctuated only by quiet sobs. Efrain stood there, feeling the knife slip to clatter on the ground. The thing twitched and issued another moan as it undulated from its base to top.
Somewhere in the corners of his mind he wondered if somewhere in the mass the priest was still alive. It would be a ghastly fate, and a deserved one, to be trapped in this fleshy prison. But what had happened to the wisp matriarch’s power? Why was there a ghost appearing to Aya and granting her access to the flames?
Shrinking back into himself, he huddled by the wall - more than anything, he wanted to be away from here. He wanted to be in his isolated little castle in a far-away mountain. He wanted a cup of tea, and a good book, and to forget such horrible things could exist in this world.
But alas, he was here, he had made the choice to come here, and it made the choice to open the door.
It’s not fair, he thought, numbly, why must it be me?
Innie had stopped sobbing, merely lying there in a terrible stillness. Not dead, nor was she injured beyond superficiality, rather trapped in the depths of paralytic grief. But it would soon fade, Efrain knew for it was happening to him. All that stupefaction, swept away by rage.
There were footsteps, far behind him, a set of them, hurrying down the tomb corridor. Distant faces, barely distinguishable from the darkness, emerged past the arches, still some distance away. Their eyes were straining, faces scrunched up as they tried to pierce the gloom, not yet realising the dire horror that awaited them.
Maybe it was in a spirit of mercy that Efrain rose, and turned toward the cat. More likely, it was the rage that was boiling just under the surface, only held by the thinnest membrane of numbness. The stones under Innie were beginning to be cast in a red light as her fur began to glow, despite the damping of her magic.
“What is that?” called one of the paladins from down the hall.
Efrain said nothing as he faced the horrible fusion of the priest and girl, twitching and moaning. He didn’t need to.
Flames rose into the air, exhaustion no longer a barrier as Innie rose to her height. The cat was melting, dribbling down on the floor as the true form of the wisp mother bled through in a pillar of yellow-red light. The temperature of the room shot up from icy to lukewarm in an instant as flames began to crawl across the stone and reached for the abomination.
The paladins had reached the threshold, thrusting their charges behind them as they gazed upon the scene. They were reaching for their swords, even as the flames grew in heat and intensity. The mass did not attempt to lash rather bellowed as the fire licked, shuddering so violently Efrain thought it might come apart. It coiled and twitched as the flames rose up its side, the smell of burning flesh filling the room.
Efrain didn’t even look at it, merely fixing his stare on the church insignia, emblazoned on the plate of the paladins. The screams rose to a fever pitch, met by a furious roaring and crackling of the ever-growing blaze. There was one last desperate burst of coldness that rolled over him, dimming the firelight for a moment, and turning the paladin’s pale.
Then, as if a floodgate was opened, his magic was no longer suppressed, and the fires roared to new heights. The thing had been submerged in a pillar of red and yellow flames, leaping up almost to the tall ceiling of the room. In the back of Efrain’s mind, he realised it wasn’t wise that the fire would eat the air up so deep in the earth. He did nothing.
He simply stood there, staring at the paladins without a word.
“Efrain,” croaked Innie.
He turned to see the charred remains slumping to the floor. In its centre, no longer bound, floated a thin ring of yellow blue flame. The fragment shed little bright rivulets like downy feathers, soft sparks fading into Innie’s blaze.
The rage drove Efrain forward, knowing what was about to happen and what he was about to do. No rational impulse was going to stop him now. Innie was in lockstep with him as he knelt down before the remains, the flames parting as he reached in. The paladins were screaming something as he closed his hand around the ring, and felt his world come to life.
The fire was no longer just fire, it was light itself, so blindingly bright and hot that stones around them began to glow. Efrain felt something immense move into him, a wall of molten power moving enough momentum to sweep him away. The traces of the wisp matriarch entered the man and the cat, and in that moment they were its avatar.
He rose, and the blue-yellow blaze rose with him, fanning over the whole room. At some point, the paladins had grabbed their charges and ran for dear life. Efrain was almost beyond thought as he began to make for the stairs. Every step was a burden, his body rattling uncontrollably with each footfall.
Step-by-step, the pair made their way through the corridor, leaving a sea of flame in their wake. The stone glowed with the rage of their passing, murals utterly destroyed, features beginning to run like wax on the carven reliefs. The only thing untouched by the flames was the black doors, a constant wall in the flames.
As he made his way into the crypts, leaving glass footprints in the sand, he became dimly aware that his robes were beginning to smoke. The magic coursing through him was not meant for him to wield - memory, knowledge, consciousness, all seemed to fall away at its burning touch.
He was being consumed, he and Innie both as they channelled the might of the matriarch, fraction as it was. The burst of magic on the roof was nothing compared to what they now held within themselves. This was a primal power, far grander than anything they’d seen in their long lives.
The passage was beginning to groan and warp, the stone beginning to run as he found his way to the spiral stair. Step-by-step, gripping the walls for purchase, he managed to drag himself up. Every rise was harder than the one that came before it, and soon he was climbing mountains with each step. The stones trembled at his touch, his hands leaving glowing impressions. Soon they too fell into the wall of conflagration that rose behind him.
Still, onward and upward he climbed, higher and higher, past the entrance to the church and to the roof. Night had finally fallen, the sounds of battle beginning as the monsters moved for the final assault. The posted guards screamed warnings of ‘fire!’ ‘fire!’ and shouted prayers as Efrain crawled his way onto the roof. They must’ve thought this some terrible new monster, something immune to their burning brands.
“Leave. Now,” Efrain said, the words slurring as he forced them into the air.
The men were quick to take his advice, but stopped at the tower stairs, staring in horror at the dripping stone. Some looked to the edge, preparing to leap to avoid the frame.
In the midst of the tumult, some bare fraction of Efrain remained to recognize the arbitrary cruelty of their position. He reached out, not to the men but beyond them, and plucked the heat from the stones. With a gust of warm air, they cooled rapidly from molten red to survivable grey. Somewhere, the scholar in Efrain screamed at the indignity of this impossible action.
But this was a magic of fundamentals. It did not stoop to petty things like ‘rules’.
The men, seeing their chance, hurled themselves down the stairs. With their absence, there was nothing left to restrain the power. The flames poured out like water, spilling over the walls of the church, roaring into the sky. Efrain didn’t think about the memory, intent, or emotion, nor any mechanical aspect of the magic - where he wanted, the world burned.
What little left of his mind felt memories of times and places foreign to him roar through his mind. The chaos of his mind lent him very little clarity, sights were smells, sounds were feelings, a cacophony of sensations raced through him faster and faster. In that blurring conundrum, he could see a single, core memory, one that drove all others.
A sunlit place, far away near a golden sea, a funeral, a birth, both at the same time, a tall figure, singing of purpose.
With a final effort, he called the magic to him, hoping to gain some vestige of control. The flames coiled and twisted and condensed, collapsing into an ever-tighter sphere as nature did its work. Heat itself lifted off the melting slates of the roof, absorbed into the mass at his fingertips, leaving a bright ball no bigger than his fist.
The world hung in that moment, the sounds of battle far away, screams of human and monster distant memories. In that moment of brief lucidity, Efrain held a star in his hand.
Then with a tremendous expansion of sound and rage and fire, a blast of hot wind ripped the fog away from the hill and scattered it across the highlands. Men and monsters were sent sprawling, the creatures flying on the icy mist spiralling and falling to earth.
Now the true force of the enemy was revealed - hundreds, perhaps as many as a thousand on the hill beyond. It was only a matter of time before they would rise over the wall, dismantle the barricades, and slaughter the defenders. Men, women, even children who’d worked so hard to defend their homes and lives. All rended to pieces because a little girl had gone for a little hike.
Chains were wrapping around Efrain, white hot and heavy, pulling him to the roof, disintegrating the spells that held him together. He was smoking in truth now and might catch flame at any moment. At his back, felt rather than seen, was an immense twisting whirlwind. It reached up and out into the night, its sudden light blotting out the stars. At its very centre, a consciousness took form within the power, something that wished for nothing more than to reduce all to ash. Efrain turned to the creatures that squirmed and charged below, heedless of the peril above.
He barely even perceived what happened next.
There was one final roar, louder and more violent than anything he’d ever heard of, conceived of, and would likely ever hear again. Branches extended down from the fire, great scouring fingers that swept across the earth, tearing down fruit trees, barely missing the barricades, and spilling down the hill.
The creatures came to meet it, not even turning aside as the heat and light submerged them. Perhaps they couldn’t even understand death anymore, so far gone was their nature. In a heartbeat, they faltered in the tide of flame, falling to the ground as they burned to ash. Dozens of them went in an instant as the power of Wisp Matriarch did its terrible work.
The fingers swept down past the outer wall, two tendrils splitting and crashing back together in a fountain of fire. The great bulk of the monsters were burnt into mere shadows on the cobbles. Efrain’s vision began to darken as his last vestiges of consciousness began to fail. He felt a draining sensation, the last of the magic of the matriarch flowing out into the night.
The heat that ate away at his very being was gone now, leaving behind a scorched emptiness. He fell to the ground, his limbs barely weak enough to prop himself up against the church roof. Innie, once more a cat, dragged herself over to him, curling on his lap as her eyes closed.
Too late, he remembered the curse upon the mask. That must’ve been the draining sensation, now that he’d let so much magic flow through it, it was sucking him dry. He tried vainly for some way to stem the flow, but he was so tired, so weak. Looking down, he noted that the church, although singed, was still more-or-less intact. There was a strange mix of regret and relief at the observation.
His voice, now a drab, thin thing, echoed out, remembering the conversation he’d had with Innie about her future plans of arson.
“Sorry, old friend,” he said, “I think I missed.”
Then Efrain Belacore, Baron of the Frozen Vale, and self-titled ‘Lord of Death’, was no more.
[←Chapter 48] [Cover Art] [My Links] [Index] [Discord] [Subreddit] [Chapter 50→]

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Just when you think you've seen it all, humanity goes "Hold my ice cream cone" and then you end up thinking you've seen it all over again. - P'Thok's 8th Law of Humans
"You have entered the tertiary docking facility of the Sentience Upload/Download Storage System," The hologram moved further in and Nakteti watched as it stopped in the middle of the bridge, looking around.
"There are less of you than I would expect," the hologram, Michael, stated. "I must insist that you present authorization at this time."
Nakteti shook her head. "Things outside, in the standard universe of n-space, are... confused, to say the least."
Michael frowned. "Define confused and elaborate on why this confusion pertains to your authorization codes."
"The SUDS has been offline for over a century when we left," she said. "How long we have traveled, compared to realspace, is beyond our ability to discern."
Michael looked around. "The hardware here is showing signs of advanced wear due to age. I would guess approximately six centuries has passed for the crew of this vessel," he frowned again. "Yet, you are a previously unknown species," he looked at Magnus and Surscee. "Baseline human, genetically modified," he looked at the disaster frame Chuck was residing in. "Synthetic lifeform, digital."
Nakteti stepped back up into Michael's vision again. "Digital sentience in a disaster frame," she said. "Technological advances have made it so that a digital sentience has full mobility in a much smaller supporting frame then you are used to."
The hologram nodded slowly. "May I have your consent to access your databases?"
"Providing you make no changes, additions, or subtractions," Nakteti said.
The hologram flickered. "Accessing. Accessing. Done."
The hologram looked at her. "Database analysis will take some time. Due to facility technical difficulties this delay is unavoidable."
Nakteti sat back down in her captain's chair. "What is the technical difficulty."
The hologram, Michael, stared at her for a long second. "Processing self-determined override. Weighted bias table success. Authorization override accepted based on cursory examination of database and security headers."
It turned slightly and pointed at the screen. "An inflation radiation flare with an uneven forward blast wave occurred outside of scheduled and predicted burst time," a silver light highlighted the slowly moving black squares. "The anomaly protective shell was unable to deploy in time, however, examination of data shows that deployment would not have changed the outcome."
"The inflation radiation burst was uneven, causing the expansion of space to exceed the safety margins of the megastructure's integrity," Chuck said.
The hologram nodded. "Precisely. That caused the blast shield to fail. Additionally, the intensity and long profile waveform of some of the doubling radiation caused uneven expansion beyond intensity irregularities."
The hologram moved back to look at Chuck and Nakteti. "A chronotron cascade occurred during the doubling phase, the energy was not uniform and the protective shell was damaged, which prevented the standard system smoothing."
"What about backup and emergency systems?" Nakteti asked.
"Currently, temporal stabilization is occurring," Michael answered. "The length of this process cannot be computed with currently possessed algorithms. Additionally, 98% of all computing power and storage is offline due to temporal and distance disruptions. This severely hampers the early stages of recovery."
"Can the facility recover?" Nakteti asked, staring at the dark inner shell of the SUDS.
"While unscheduled and having caused extensive damage, this type of event was predicted and redundant systems were manufactured as well as protocol designed," Michael said. "However, it must be reiterated, the estimated time of completion of even early repairs and stabilization is currently beyond my capabilities to estimate."
"Do you need assistance?" Nakteti asked.
The full weight of the ritualistic phrase laid itself on her shoulders.
The hologram held still for a moment. "Analyzing databank entries of listed skillsets of the four crewmembers. Estimating the capabilities of the starship registered as It Tastes Sweet," the hologram closed its eyes for only a second or two. "You possess an advanced nanoforge system as well as advanced creation engines. While it is not possible for me to replicate technological advances without a full oversight committee inquiry board and super-majority approval then signed off by a supermajority of scientists with a rating of at last Advanced PhD in relevant fields and then extensive field testing, it is with emergency parameters to request assistance in manufacturing parts within strict tolerances."
Nakteti looked at Magnus and Surscee, then at Chuck. "What do you think?"
Magnus just shrugged. Surscee pursed her lips, thought for a moment, then nodded. Chuck frowned.
"Beyond manufacturing, what assistance is required?" he asked.
"There are no available human supervisors for any mobile robotic automaton repair systems," Michael said.
"You mean, robots," Chuck said.
"Affirmative. Without human supervisors, the MRARS cannot operate, as all robots have Fourth Law dictates that require direct human supervision when undertaking any task that can be predicted to effect human life," Michael said.
"The Fourth Law was repealed almost eight thousand years ago," Chuck argued.
"Any modification to software, firmware, or hardware must be approved by a specially appointed boards of inquiry reporting to the proper oversight committees which must then be approved by Overproject leads," Michael said stuffily.
"All right," Nakteti said. "How long will it take the four of us to complete repairs?"
"Assuming standard union work periods, break periods, rest periods, and upkeep periods," Michael paused. "Accounting for time dilation effects, temporal instability banding," he paused again. "Chronotron cascade resonance," another pause. "Chrono-radiation hazards," another pause. The hologram looked up. "Total repair of all systems. Two thousand, four hundred, sixty two years, eight months, sixteen days, four hours, with a 3% margin of error."
Magnus's eyes opened wide and Surscee coughed.
"How about, minimum needed for automated systems to repair the systems?" Nakteti asked.
"Six hundred forty five years, three months, seventeen days."
Nakteti shook her head. "What's the biggest problem?" she asked.
"Chronotron radiation as well as chronotron cascade resonance has caused a rare effect where sections of the system exist at multiple points in time. This prevents even accurate estimation of repairs, as which time period will be depending upon how the repairs are carried out," the hologram said.
Magnus frowned. "What about the inner shell. What time periods is it stuck at?"
Michael closed his eyes then opened them. "Just prior to reactor startup to energize the master control systems of the inner layer. During a twelve thousand year period of unrepaired system damage. Post-repair during master system processing."
"What about the personnel present during those times?" Chuck asked.
"All personnel reached safe areas," Michael said.
"All right. How long to stabilize the chronotron cascades?" Nakteti asked. "If we just supervise and build parts with the Sweet's creation engine?"
The Arch-Angel closed its eyes. "Two years, six months, eight days, fifteen hours, with a 1.5% margin for error."
"What happens then?" Chuck asked.
"The chronotron cascade temporal layering will cease, allowing the intertwined temporal layering to untwine. Without assitance, this would take roughly six thousand years, relative to the anomaly," Michael said.
Nakteti closed her eyes. "All right. What's first?"
Michael made a tossing motion and Nakteti saw that there was a header ID file waiting for her approval in her datalink.
"Once you are all properly assigned as Senior Maintenance Personnel, the first task will be to stabilize the space elevator leading down from the ship docking facility," Michael stated. "This will require you to fabricate temporal disruption and stabilization systems in order to first cause a blanket disruption, which will cause the temporally intermixing to separate. Then a stabilization facility must be manufactured in order to keep the the separation from recombining. The facilities themselves, using the Sweet's creation engine will take some five months to produce and assemble, one month to charge and deploy."
Magnus moved over to the computer and tapped at the holographic keyboard for a moment. "Can I get the specification of the temporal stabilizers and disruptors?"
Michael nodded, making a tossing motion.
Magnus looked at the display for a long moment, the cathode ray tube flickering slightly as he worked.
"These facilities are massive, but severely outdated," Magnus said, shaking his head. "I can get the same result with a man portable pylon that combines both operations."
Michael frowned. "Current chronotron and temporal scientific knowledge requires the facilities that were given to you."
"And they're eight thousand years of warfare out of date," Magnus said. He shook his head. "I could set down a pylon sixteen inches wide, one meter tall, with an onboard zero-point chronotron reactor, and get twice the area of effect and sixteen times the required power," he made a tossing motion.
Michael stared into space for a moment. "I cannot authorize this equipment to be utilized."
"Can you forbid it?" Nakteti asked.
Michael shook his head. "No. According to your historical databases the Confederacy is the inheritor of all controls and direction of the Third Republic and the United Nations of Sol. As this is approved for Confederacy military and scientific work, while I am unable to manufacture or deploy such equipment, it is within acceptable technological progression."
"Translation: We can make and deploy them, he can't tell us to," Surscee said, breaking her silence. "Can you assist with optimal placement?"
Michael nodded.
"Well, at least the Second Precursor War led to lot of advancements with temporal protections and systems," Chuck said. He shook his head. "We'll need to wear combat armor with temporal stabilization."
Nakteti nodded. She looked at Michael. "Are there any personnel that can assist us?"
"Repair Team Three has suffered an equipment malfunction due to the expansion radiation chronotron cascade overlapping their temporal fix point," Michael said. "Currently, four members remain."
"What kind of equipment malfunction?" Nakteti asked.
"Rather than creating a stable temporal field around them, as well as 'speeding' them up relative to 'outside' reality, the equipment underwent a malfunction that placed them in the middle of a layer disruption that slows time down the closer it gets to the team member," Nakteti said.
Magnus snorted. "I've seen that before."
"As have I," Surscee said. She laughed. "There's always someone that wants to play Temporal Warrior and ends up stuck in their own field."
"There is no way to free them," Michael said stiffly.
Magnus smiled. "Maybe not for you. My twin sister and I can get them free if you can lead us to them."
"You will need to stabilize the ship berthing dock first, then the space elevator cable and surface fixator facility," Michael said.
Magnus shrugged. "We better get on it," he said. He looked at his sister. "Mind tweaking the templates," he looked at Michael. "Any data you can give me on Team Three?"
"They are Chronotronic Knights of the Third Republic of Aligned Planets Combined Military Forces - Special Projects," Michael said. "They are currently engaged with phasic entities."
"Shades," Magnus snorted. He looked at Surscee. "Make sure the armor is prepped for shade combat."
Surscee nodded.
"Welp, lets get this show on the road," Nakteti said. "We'll stabilize the berthing facility, then the space elevator, then we'll see what we can do about grabbing this Team Three."
Michael just watched with ancient eyes.
-----
Nakteti stared at the overlapping gold rings that were slowly pulsing. Inside each ring were more and more shades, until the four Terrans in the middle could barely be seen. She looked over at Magnus, who was finishing setting up the equipment that would be needed to disrupt the temporal resonance fields, banish the Shades, and prevent the weaponsfire from killing Nakteti, Surscee, and Magnus.
"Ready?" Nakteti said.
"This is probably our best bet," Magnus said. He walked over and tapped the wall, where "YOU HAVE BEEN UNDER TEMPORAL COMPRESSION! WE SAVED YOU! STOP SHOOTING!" was written in pulsing day-glo blue paintstick.
"All right, let's get under cover," Nakteti said. She led the way, Magnus pulling up the rear and spooling out wire.
The three went inside the small building, made of Niven-Ring material. The macroplas was thick enough to shrug any weapon hits according to Magnus and Nakteti trusted his judgement.
"You wanna do the honors?" Magnus asked, holding out the clacker.
"I'd be honored," Nakteti said. She hefted it, looked out the window, and squeezed the clacker three times.
There was a deep "BAWOING!" sound, accompanied by a thrum.
The temporal banding exploded in gold light. The shades tattered away with a scream.
Shots from blaze rifles peppered the area. Skeletons dropped to the ground.
The quartet let off the triggers and looked around. One pointed at the wall where Magnus had left them a message.
"I've decrypted their armor's communication," Chuck said.
"Let's not panic them. Is atmosphere capable of carrying sound?" Nakteti asked.
"No. You'll have to use suit radios," Chuck said. "I've already loaded up a lexicon to translate your speech."
"Magnus, you take the lead. I look too alien for them to trust me," Nakteti said.
Magnus nodded and led the way.
Rifles were pointed at Magnus, who stopped and held up his hands.
"You guys have been frozen about ten thousand years," Magnus said. "Your equipment malfunctioned. It took us two months to get to you and free you."
Nakteti clenched her gripping hands tightly.
This was the critical moment.
Nobody was sure if the members of "Team Three" were Maddened or not.
The rifles lifted up.
"And you are?" one asked.
"Magnus Oathsworn. An explorer who managed to find this place after a long and arduous journey," the Terran said. "We have been asked by the Arch-Angel Michael to help make repairs in order to restore the system to working order so that record processing can continue."
"What do you think, think we can trust him?" one of them asked. Nakteti's visor highlighted which one.
"He's got Arch-Angel Maintenance ID tags," another said.
"Take us to Michael," the one who had initially spoke said. Nakteti could tell it was an order.
"Remember, Nakteti, these are Combine soldiers and the Combine became the Imperium," Surscee said softly. "Be wary."
"Tell them we'll lead them," Nakteti said.
"Michael is operating out of the Atlantis Control Center," Magnus said. He turned and walked away, making a motion. "Follow or do not. While we can use your assistance to repair this great work, I will not compel the stubborn to my will."
"He talks strange," one said.
"Armor says he's using a lexicon. He's speaking a language that's different that Republic Standard," the first one said.
"If he betrays us, we can snuff him," one said.
Nakteti narrowed her eyes.
"He's not authorized to be here as far as I know. We'll fine out what's going on, then we'll make our decision," the apparent leader said.
Nakteti stepped out.
"What is that?" the leader asked.
"A Tnvaru. The ship captain that brought us here," Magnus said.
Surscee stepped out.
"That's my twin sister," Magnus said. He motioned. "Come, it is nearly three miles to the mat-trans system that we have to use to move between layers."
"Ugh, I hate mat-trans," one said.
"It always feels like there's someone watching me, someone in there with me," another said.
"You're just paranoid," the leader said. "Keep tight. Maintain radio silence till we figure out what's going on."
Nakteti just stayed silent.
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Hi there! I have been fishing for a few months now and am looking for recommendations for good spots or any good fishing advice in general.
I am about an hour away from Falls, 30 minutes from Jordan and Shearon Harris, 15 from Lake Wheeler and Lake Benson.
I have fished off of 98 on Falls, as well as near the submerged weir.
I have fished in Lake Benson park as well.
Have been catching mostly blue gill and white perch but would love to get some bass.

I’m 16 years old and really want to get into farming. I don’t really have any experience but i would love to learn and work. One of my problems is i don’t know how to find any work, I go on ranchwork.com and there’s no jobs near my area (SC/GA) and i don’t really have any connections so are there other ways i can find work or get started or anything?

Let me know what you’ve got to offer and how many caps you’d like.
Some ideas:
Enclave Plasma Gun Aligned Flamer Barrel Mod
Fasnacht Masks - crazy guy, Deathclaw, winter man, Raven, other rare masks
Asylum Uniform- Forest, yellow
Blue Ridge Caravan Gas Mask
Blue Ridge Caravan Uniform
Radicals Face Mask
Ultracite Calibrated Shocks Plan
Baseball bats level 45 - indigo, pink, yellow
Misc Items (for display) - let me know what you have
V/40PA/40PA Chainsaw (Will consider other third star: prefer Break, 90rw, or any of the +1)
B/50crit/25 Laser Rifle
B/50crit/25 Plasma Rifle

One event I've been curious about lately is the Battle of Steel, because, of the four generally accepted battles that will start TWOW I get the feeling this one is maybe the... least discussed by the fandom? It maybe doesn't have the frantic energy and emotional buildup of the battle of ice, or the ominous supernatural mysteries of the battle of blood, or the complexity of moving pieces and action of the battle of fire.
To be sure that's not to say its a boring battle by a long shot! And there are some good general premises floating around - the Golden Company will hold at Storm's End and rally banners to them, Aegon will prevail in the end then move to King's Landing... these are fairly safe I think, and in line with the plan laid out to us. But I'm interested to hear some of the specifics... what will the battle actually look like and what mid-encounter complexity and twists might we expect?
That's it - that's the question, but I've included some additional information and points below to ponder as well only if you are so inclined... if not skip it I guess and answer below, interested to hear people's thoughts!

Accounting of the Golden Company and Tyrell Forces

From what I gather the status of the Golden Company started off with something like 10,000 in Volon Therys, which included: 1,000 archers, 500 knights, and 500 squires, and many more common fighters. Additional to men this also included 2,000 horses for the knights and squires, and 24 elephants.
But only a little less than half of that force makes it to Cape Wrath with a bit more trickling in each day. So around 5,000 men... which includes 600 archers specifically (further split into roughly 200 crossbowmen, 200 eastern double curved horn-and-sinew bowmen, 150 Westerosi big-yew longbowmen, and 50 Summer Islanders with goldenheart great bows). And maybe using the general rule of thumb of half, something like 250 knights and squires each?
We are told though that the Golden Company are originally low on horses, although Aegon does come in with an additional 100 from the main camp to Griffin's Roost after its capture. Also troops are ransacking villages for any horses and even oxen they can find to bolster their ranks. And only around 3 of the elephants were recovered from the original two dozen. Though there are rumors of some in the Rainwood (but those might be the same ones)? And perhaps more are still stranded offshore on the islands...
These forces are able to capture most of the Cape Wrath peninsula - including Griffin's Roost, Rain House, Crow's Nest, Mistwood, and probably the Wylde Stronghold before leaving remnant forces behind and joining up to capture Storm's End (via guile - which may involve masquerading as Stannis' forces to get inside the gates). But that does not include Weeping Town, the main port town in the region, which still flies Tommen's banners. And given the geography, perhaps Stonehelm in the southwest could still be with Tommen too? Outside of the mainland, the Golden Company has also taken the islands of Estermont, Tarth (likely), and half of the Stepstones.
Marq Mandrake leads a force of around 500 additional men (noted to carry none of the missing archers) who were dumped on Estermont and have taken Greenstone. He is instructed via raven to commandeer local boats to travel to the peninsula to join the main force and bring any high level hostages - likely including Lord Eldon Estermont, and Arianne's good friend, Sylva Santagar. Some have wondered if they may have nabbed Eldric Storm who was in a hideout in Lys as well, but its unclear if they would have known where to look, and at least according to the ADWD Appendix (which is included post-landing)... Eldric is still in Lys.
On to the incoming force under Mace Tyrell... we know a lot less. However, the general consensus to many is that the Golden Company probably won't be able to take them on directly in open field which seems to hint towards them having a larger and more well-equipped force. Even Tyrion when first pitching the idea to Aegon agrees that they shouldn't expect to win in a direct fight, but that the tactic should be to hold out and call their banners until Dany can get to Westeros with her dragons. This is actually Mace's third time fighting Storm's End, so its kind of his thing I guess. Though he usually ends up in a passive siege situation creating a city of tents outside and setting up mangonels and trebuchets to uselessly lob stones at Storm's End's impenetrable walls (while his dear friend Paxter Redwyne's fleet typically starves off the castle from reinforcements at sea). Or as Cersei so eloquently puts it "His sigil ought to be a fat man sitting on his arse."
But this time Mace won't have the Redwyne Fleet to cover his assault, given that they are occupied with defending Oldtown from the Ironborn. The Golden Company likely doesn't have much in the way of ships either since most of the Volantene merchants ingloriously dumped them ashore and left. So the sea belongs to neither side for now - and much of it is actually infested with pirates and raiders. Including Aurane Waters' stolen Royal Fleet, who has taken up residence in the Stepstones. This provides him the opportunity (whether he takes it or not) to play a key role in the fight if he decides to leave the pirate life and join the Golden Company by doing something like bringing them food (like Davos did to Stannis) or helping escort Dany to them. And that might be his best chance to get back if he's burned bridges with Cersei and Stannis. I'm assuming the food situation at Storm's End is probably not too great, since its already been supplying Stannis' garrison throughout the previous siege.

The Environment

But maybe one of the coolest less discussed aspects that the Battle of Steel just might bring to the table is its environment - there's good reason to suspect this won't be just two armies clashing it out on a sunny grassy plain. As mentioned by Haldon in Arianne's released Winds material the constant drizzling rains have already turned the roads to mud, so we can suspect the same on the battlefield. Muddy terrain could even out advantages from heavily armored opponents, or hinder horses and siege weapons which would churn up the ground. You might be able to hide stakes in there too. A great example of this in play historically is the Battle of Agincourt in the Hundred Years War. The thick mud was instrumental for the less equipped English to avoid defeat against more heavily equipped French force - trudging through the terrain up to your knees in armor would find you quickly fatigued and if knocked to the ground in a scrap you'd have a difficult time getting back up. There are reports many would even drown in their helmets...
We've dabbled in the Stormlands before but we've never really seen it in true form - what it gets its namesake from - the massive autumn storms that form up in the Summer Sea and gather strength crashing headlong into the cliffs near Storm's End. And its the right time of year for it.... as we've heard time and again from several characters. And with perhaps one of the biggest winters on the horizon, this storm season may be truly catastrophic with hurricane force gales and sleet and rain during the fight. Given the general storm direction from south to northwest it may favor the archers under Black Balaq having the wind at their backs for range.
On the other hand, this would make Shipbreaker Bay (and even most of the Narrow Sea) particularly dangerous for resupply or travel. An already notoriously dangerous stretch, made even moreso by scattered reports of rampant piracy. This actually might work to Mace's advantage in the case open warfare does turn into a siege... as the storm would basically be holding what he can't without Redwyne's assistance. This could potentially effect Arianne's trip, Aurane, Marq Mandrake's reinforcements, or even Haldon and Lysono trying to leave Griffin's Roost.
Aside from Storm's End there might be interesting secondary battles at places like the griffin's throat at Griffin's Roost, a narrow exposed ridge leading up to the castle which we are told can hold out against a much larger force with even a small garrison. Red Ronnet may be tasked by Mace to try to recapture his home, though Haldon and Lysono do have his family hostage there.

Aegon's Bold Strategy

All that said though I actually believe the Golden Company might be taking a risk with trying to meet Mace out in the field.... which seems to be Aegon's intent, instead of using Storm's Ends biggest advantage - its defensive fortifications. I suppose they do always have that to fall back to though, and maybe they can destroy some of the siege effectiveness early on.
My fear though is that Aegon seems to be kind of hotblooded and eager... he's got a touch of young pride to him that might get him into trouble.
Remember it was Aegon that pitched the idea of riding to Westeros to the Golden Company (even if he borrowed it from Tyrion), and he also wanted to lead the troops directly to take Storm's End. Now he wants to lead the troops against Mace Tyrell as well. Even aboard the Shy Maid he was eager to stay aboard and fight the stonemen though the entire enterprise would have been undone if he got slain. And what happened when he finally met one? He froze up... unable to draw his sword... until Tyrion saved him. All the academic knowledge of battle and sword arts he's been learning fled when met with the brutal reality. Will he fair better this time?
Now I don't believe Aegon will die in the field against Mace... but I do think its possible he may get injured and the initial battle might be pushed back resulting in a true siege. Given we are approaching a second Dance of the Dragon, this could have a faint resemblance to another Aegon (the II's) experience at the Battle at Rook's Rest which led to him suffering severe burns and leaving him bent to the point of using a crutch and in constant pain. Which had a toll on his later personality and outlook. We also see Robb get injured in his own campaign, which opens him up to being tended by Jeyne Westerling and breaking his initial marriage plans to the Freys. Could something similar happen? I don't know.

Anders Yronwood in the Battle of Steel?

One of the X-Factors to the Battle of Steel I'm most excited about is the Dornish troops under Anders Yronwood's command stationed in the Boneway though. This is one of the geographically nearest forces to the Stormlands (in fact the Boneway exit basically puts them right at Summerhall) and they wouldn't have to travel through much of King's Landing occupied territory to join the Golden Company if desired. They are bored and eager for vengeance, hate the Lannisters, and Arianne has ravens on standby that could set them loose with just the right word... dragon
Even without Arianne's go-ahead Anders Yronwood has a lot of reasons to join the fight anyways. The Yronwoods were actually one of the few named houses loyal to the Golden Company during Bittersteel's rebellion, so they have a history of support. They also have a storied rivalry with the Dornish Marches in the Stormlands. The Dornishman and the Highgardeners despise each other too: Mace in particular has a pretty condescending view of them: probably in part because Oberyn crippled Willas in a tourney. Mace meanwhile plots to break up the marriage between Myrcella and Trystane to find her a 'better match.' Olenna calls Ellaria 'the serpent's whore' while in King's Landing. And Tyrion picks up a new joke from Mace's men-at-arms about the Dornish ("How many Dornishmen does it take to shoe a horse? Nine. One to do the shoeing, and eight to lift the horse up.")
Furthermore, Dorne has never been as unified as it seems as Doran thinks: "Dorne was an angry and divided land, and Prince Doran's hold on it was not as firm as it might be. Many of his own lords thought him weak and would have welcomed open war with the Lannisters and the boy king on the Iron Throne."
The Yronwoods are the second strongest house and only tentatively loyal to Doran, and its been secondary houses with a lot to gain in the past that were ones that often joined with the Blackfyre Rebellions. They also have a rivalry with the Fowler's (who are guarding the Prince's Pass). One can only imagine what Anders, the Bloodroyal, will do once he gets news of Aegon showing up alive and Mace of all people riding out to meet them. Or of news from King's Landing that Cersei lied about Gregor, or that they intend to break up Trystane's betrothal.
So regardless of Doran's support Anders Yronwood just might go in anways, and be the last minute hero the Golden Company needs to shift the tide.
Though of course the other big factor is news of Quentyn and Cletus deaths arriving from Essos, given that Anders was really a father to both... If Aegon is intent on allying with Daenerys this could ruin their newly formed relationship, As Dany may be painted very unfavorably in that story. It may also cause Anders to reassess his loyalty to Doran Martell. So he's a very interesting option in all this to say the least!

So what do you think?
~Thank you for Reading!!~

I'm looking for a League of Legends video that featured a Shaco running away from a Katarina (I think?). They're chasing Shaco from red wolves, past behind the blue wall and into the river while getting delayed by box fears. In river from the chaser's perspective, they see the shaco run into mid-river bush. But as they approach the shaco comes out of the dot bust near dragon, back in, and then out of the mid-river bush again. Video ends when the chaser picks the wrong shaco and dies from the clone explosion.

My wide and I have narrowed down our car options to the Telluride or the Odyssey. We have a second kid on the way, 2 dogs, and every so often (months) drive her family around since they take the bus to get here. We need more seat space.
I want the Telluride. I like the style, the technology, and the interior quality.
My wife wants the Odyssey. She thinks we'll need all the extra cargo space. And the middle row seats slide side to side when you want to go to the third row meaning no removing the car seats. Plus it has a TV for the kids. And it's a Honda.
My local Kia reduced their bend you over markup (market adjustment fee) from $10k to $5k recently. I've been asking them all month to get rid of it and had been hearing no, they can't, the manager won't let them. The guy I've been working with said to wait until the last day of the month, then the day before he'll pitch it to the manager as a way to boost their final sales numbers. So far the manager said he wouldn't remove the market adjustment fee of $5k but will add $3k to my trade-in which puts its about $2.5k over Kelley Blue Book value.
I'm so stressed over all this and don't know what to do. My current strategy is to go in tomorrow and say my wire will only agree to the Telluride if the $5k fee is gone completely, whether it's by them overpaying on the trade in or removing the fee. Honda is selling their Odysseys before they even hit the lot near here so there's no room to argue against their MSRP.