Hi!
I'm trying to import photogrammetry data into my photovoltaics software and could use some help. This usecase is not officially supported, so it's kind of a hack. I need it for shade simulations. Unfortunately I am a blender noob and feel quite overwhelmed.
My progress so far is that I can get 3D models from google maps into blender and from there into my PV-software. Unfortunately, since it's a whole city block it's too large for the PV-software. I have two ideas of how to get around them but none seem to be working.
1) My main building needs to be detailed but the surrounding buildings just need to be boxes basically. I tried to make the surrounding buildings less detailed with the decimate modifier but instead of simplifying my mesh into a flat surface, it splits the building up into triangles like leaves on a tree. Is there a better way?
2) I tried to export a less detailed model from google maps and combine it with the high res one but apparently they are not at the right scale (both of them have a different scale). I tried to measure it in blender but the measurement tool keeps putting the measurement points in random places in the 3D space instead of the surface I point at. This makes it impossible to measure... Any idea for this?
I hope I've given enough detail, currently I'm too deep in and very confused. If you have questions please just ask. :-)

Jackie Jensen, "The Golden Boy", was a superstar athlete in the 1940s who seemed destined for greatness as the heir to Joe DiMaggio... only to be supplanted by a different golden boy, the great Mickey Mantle.
Jensen would eventually live up to the hype, but with the Red Sox -- but his career prematurely because, as baseball expanded to the west coast, his fear of flying made road games unbearable!
The Yankees between 1947 and 1964 were utterly dominant, winning 15 pennants and 10 World Series. And it wasn't just the major league team that was successful. The Yankees of this era were loaded up and down the system, from Rookie ball to their two Triple-A teams!
With such a loaded major league roster, the Yankees had many talented players stuck either on the end of the bench or in the minors who would eventually find an opportunity with other teams, including Bob Cerv, Vic Power, Gus Triandos, Lew Burdette, Jerry Lumpe, Bob Porterfield, and Bob Keegan, who would all be All-Stars with other teams. Clint Courtney would be the 1952 A.L. Rookie of the Year runner-up after the Yankees traded him to the Browns, and Bill Virdon was the 1955 N.L. Rookie of the Year with the Cardinals (and then Yankee manager from 1974 to 1975!).
But the most talented player who just couldn't find the playing time in New York was Jack Eugene Jensen, born March 9, 1927, in San Francisco. His parents divorced when he was 5, and he grew up poor, his mother working six days a week, 12 hours a day. Jensen said the family moved 16 times between kindergarten and eighth grade -- "every time the rent came due."
After serving in the U.S. Navy during World War II, Jensen went to the University of California in 1946 on the G.I. Bill. There he became one of the most famous college players in the country, leading Cal to the Rose Bowl. In 1947, he was the starting fullback as well as the team's top defensive back, and in 1948, he rushed for 1,000 yards and was an All-American.
He also was a tremendous two-way baseball player, pitching and hitting for the Golden Bears in 1947 as the won the very first College World Series, beating a Yale team that had George H.W. Bush playing first base. In 1949, he was an All-American in baseball, too.
His blond hair, good looks, and athletic accomplishments earned him the nickname "The Golden Boy."
Halfway through his junior year, Jensen left Berkeley to turn pro. Jensen would later say he couldn't risk playing a career-ending injury playing for free while teams -- baseball and football -- were trying to sign him to big-money contracts.

"There was a money tree growing in my backyard. Why shouldn't I pluck off the dollars when I wanted to?"

Jensen considered a number of offers, including from the Yankees, before signing a three-year, $75,000 contract with the Oakland Oaks of the Pacific Coast League. Jensen said he thought he'd face better competition in the Pacific Coast League, the top minor league of the era, than he would at the bottom of the Yankee farm system. He was right about it being more of a challenge -- he hit an unimpressive .261/.317/.394 in 510 plate appearances with the Oaks.
At the end of the year, the Oaks sold his contract (and that of Billy Martin, another Northern California kid) to the Yankees.
That same year, Jensen married his high school sweetheart, Zoe Ann Olsen, an Olympic diver. (By age 18, she had won 14 national diving championships and a silver medal in the 1948 Olympics.) "Together they looked like a Nordic god and goddess," Sports Illustrated reported. Nicknamed "the sweethearts of sports," they were the Dansby Swanson and Mallory Pugh of their era. More than 1,000 people attended their wedding.
Jensen would start the 1950 season not in the minors but in the Bronx. He joined the Yankees in a time of flux. They though they'd won the 1949 World Series, the Yankees knew they had to make some changes, with 35-year-old Joe DiMaggio nearing the end of his career. And their heir apparent was not Mickey Mantle -- at the time an 18-year-old shortstop playing in the Class C league, the equivalent of A-ball today -- but the 23-year-old Jensen.
But Jensen disappointed, hitting just .171/.247/.300 in 70 at-bats, and only starting in 13 games. Watching from the bench most of the season, Jensen would later lament the lost year of development, saying he'd have been better off playing every day in the Pacific Coast League.
The Yankees won the pennant for a second straight year, and in the World Series he once again was left on the bench. His only action was as a pinch runner in Game 3 as the Yankees swept the Phillies. That "Moonlight Graham" appearance would be his only taste of the post-season in an 11-year career.
The following year would be DiMaggio's last, and Mantle's first. Jensen began the year as the Yankees' starting left fielder and proved he belonged, hitting .296/.371/.509 through the end of July... and then, shockingly, was demoted to Triple-A and replaced with previously forgotten Yankee Bob Cerv.
I can see why they called up Cerv -- the University of Nebraska stand-out was tearing up Triple-A, leading the American Association in batting average (.349), home runs (26), triples (21), RBIs (101), and total bases (261) -- but why demote Jensen, who had a 140 OPS+ in the majors? Maybe the Yankees felt the brash 23-year-old needed to be taken down a peg. In any event, Cerv hit just .214/.333/.250 in August and was sent back to Triple-A, but Jensen also was left down there. He hit .263/.344/.469 and was recalled after the Triple-A season ended, only getting into three games (he went 3-for-9).
Mantle, too, had started the season with the Yankees, and after hitting .260/.341/.423 through the middle of July, was sent down to Triple-A. But he hit .361/.445/.651 in 166 at-bats, and unlike Jensen was back in the bigs by August 24. He would play pretty much every game the rest of the season, hitting .284/.370/.495 in 95 at-bats.
The torch had clearly been passed -- Jensen was no longer the heir apparent to DiMaggio. In the World Series that year, Mantle was the starting right fielder, and Jensen wasn't even on the post-season roster.
Jensen was so disappointed with how the Yankees had treated him in 1951 that he talked to the San Francisco 49ers about switching to pro football, but ultimately decided to stick with baseball.
Never shy about what he said to reporters, Jensen told The Sporting News on October 24, 1951:

"I felt so badly about the treatment that I received from the Yankees that, although I was in New York at the end of the season, I didn't feel like sticking around to even watch the club play in any of the World's Series games."
"I do not feel the Yankees were justified in sending me to the minor leagues. When I was shipped to Kansas City, I was doing as good a job as any Yankee outfielder and better than some of them. I was hitting .296, which was ten points better than Hank Bauer and 30 points better than Joe DiMaggio, Gene Woodling and Mickey Mantle. Yet Casey Stengel didn't give me the chance I felt I deserved."

Despite blasting his manager in the press, Jensen was still the property of the Yankees. That off-season, teams were circling, hoping to pry away the talented but disgruntled outfielder. There were newspaper reports of offers from the St. Louis Browns, the Detroit Tigers, the Philadelphia Athletics, the Washington Senators, the Cleveland Indians, and the Boston Red Sox -- with one rumor being Ted Williams to the Bronx in exchange for Jensen and several other players. (A Red Sox scout called the rumored deal "a lot of hogwash.")
Sportswriters spent the off-season speculating whether DiMaggio would retire, and if he did, whether Jensen or Mantle would take over as the center fielder, as there were still concerns that Mantle, who had hurt his knee in the 1951 World Series, wouldn't be fully recovered by the start of the season.
On Opening Day, April 16, 1952, it was Jackie Jensen in center and Mickey Mantle in right. Jensen went 0-for-5 with a GIDP; Mantle, 3-for-4 with a double, a walk, and a stolen base! Seven games into the season, Jensen was 2-for-17 (.118) and found himself on the bench. He'd never play for the Yankees again. On May 3, the Golden Boy was traded to the Washington Senators along with Spec Shea, Jerry Snyder, and Archie Wilson in exchange for Irv Noren and Tom Upton.
In two years with the Senators, Jensen hit an impressive .276/.359/.407 (112 OPS+), but the team was terrible, and Jensen wasn't happy. Still just 26 years old, he later said he had almost quit after the 1953 season... particularly after a harrowing flight to Japan for a series of exhibition games with a squad of All-Stars that included Yankees Yogi Berra, Eddie Lopat, and Billy Martin. That experience gave Jensen a lifelong fear of flying, a phobia that became so intense eventually he could only fly with the help of sleeping pills... and a hypnotist!
He might have quit if not for the trade on December 9, 1953, that sent him to the Boston Red Sox for pitcher Mickey McDermott and outfielder Tom Umphlett. He was homesick, he hated flying, and he now had two little kids at home. Red Sox general manager Joe Cronin convinced Jensen to come to the Red Sox, telling him that Fenway Park was tailor made for his swing. Cronin was right: Jensen was a career .279/.369/.460 hitter, but .298/.400/.514 at Fenway.
It was in Boston that Jensen finally lived up to the hype, becoming a two-time All-Star and winning the A.L. MVP Award in 1958 and a Gold Glove in 1959. During his seven seasons in Boston, he hit .282/.374/.478 in 4,519 plate appearances. In his MVP season, Jensen hit .286/.396/.535 (148 OPS+) with 31 doubles, 35 home runs, and a league-leading 122 RBIs. During his peak with the Red Sox, 1954 to 1959, Jensen's average season was .285/.378/.490 (127 OPS+) with 28 doubles, 26 home runs, 111 RBIs, 14 stolen bases, and 3.6 bWAR. During those six seasons, no one in the American League -- not Mickey Mantle, not Ted Williams, not Al Kaline -- had more runs batted in than Jackie Jensen.
Of course, Mantle was the far better player -- even in Jensen's MVP season, Mantle had more runs, hits, home runs, walks, and a 188 OPS+ -- but Jensen's 127 OPS+ between 1954 and 1959 would have been an upgrade over the aging Hank Bauer's 110 OPS+ in right or the left field merry-go-round of Norm Siebern (113 OPS+), Irv Noren (107 OPS+), Enos Slaughter (103 OPS+), and previously forgotten Yankee Hector Lopez (101 OPS+). Casey Stengel would later say the Jensen trade was the worst one the Yankees had made while he was manager.
Despite his success, Jensen was sometimes booed by the Boston fans, just as they sometimes booed Ted Williams. There even was an article in Sport magazine, "What Do They Want From Jackie Jensen?", taking Red Sox fans to task for their unreasonably high demands from the Golden Boy. In 1956, in a game at Fenway Park against the Yankees, the hometown fans were razzing Jensen so much that teammates had to restrain him from going into the stands after a fan. Later that same game, Williams misplayed a wind-blown fly ball from Mantle, and the fans booed lustily. The very next play, Williams made a leaping catch at the scoreboard to rob Yogi Berra of a double. But Williams, still furious, spit into the crowd. He was later fined $5,000.
And Jackie was unhappy to be away from home. He and Zoe Ann had bought a house near Lake Tahoe, where they could both ski and golf year-round, as well as hit the casinos. They also had a home in Oakland, and a restaurant there, and each year Jensen hosted a pro-am golf tournament. But the marriage was struggling. Zoe Ann, once nationally known for her Olympic exploits, was frustrated to be a stay-at-home mom in the shadow of her famous husband, and Jackie became angry if she engaged in her favorite outdoor hobbies, suspecting there were men around.
Jensen's fear of flying also had become even more intense. Sometimes he was so drugged up that he had to be carried on and off the plane, fueling rumors that he was a drunk. Other times he took trains or even drove while his teammates flew.
Once again Jensen was talking about retirement, and in Spring Training 1957, the Red Sox allowed him to train with the San Francisco Seals, Boston's Triple-A team, rather than having to go to Florida. But he was still miserable. That year, he told Sports Illustrated:

“In baseball you get to the point where you don’t think you have a family. It just looks like I’m not built for this life like some ballplayers. You are always away from home and you’re lonesome, and as soon as I can, I intend to get out.”

The 32-year-old Jensen announced his retirement after the 1959 season, and he spent 1960 home with Zoe Ann and their children and running his restaurant. But he returned in 1961. After hitting just .130 in April, Jensen took a train from Detroit home to Reno, determined to quit once again. After a week away, he rejoined the team and had six hits in his next 10 at-bats. By the end of the season he was at .263/.350/.392, and this time he quit for good.
After leaving baseball, Jensen invested in real estate and a golf course, but lost most of his money. He then got a job working for a Lake Tahoe casino, was a national spokesman for Camel cigarettes, Wonder Bread, and Gillette, and even tried selling cars. Ironically, Jackie found himself on the road almost as much as he had been as a ballplayer. In 1963, he and Zoe Ann divorced, remarried, and then divorced again.
In 1967, Jensen became a TV sportscaster, married his producer Katharine Cortesi, and eventually teamed up with Keith Jackson calling college football games for ABC and a college baseball coach, first at the University of Nevada-Reno and then at the University of California, and he managed the Red Sox team in the New York Penn League in 1970. In 1977, Jackie and Katharine moved to Virginia and started a Christmas tree farm while he coached baseball at a military academy. About five years later, on July 14, 1982, he died of a heart attack at age 55.
You Don't Know Jack(ie):

• How good would Jackie Jensen have been as a Yankee? Maybe not great. He was a career .279/.369/.460 hitter, but just .238/.326/.398 at Yankee Stadium, which -- especially in that era -- was famously death on right-handed batters. Fenway Park was much more to his liking!
  
• Born in San Francisco in 1927, it's no surprise Jensen's favorite player as a kid was Joe DiMaggio, who made his debut with the San Francisco Seals when Jensen was a 5 years old. When Jensen made his major league debut, on April 18, 1950, DiMaggio went 3-for-6 with a triple in a 15-10 win over the Red Sox. Two weeks later, on May 3, Jensen made his first start, playing left field and batting second, and DiMaggio was in center and batting fourth.
  
• Jensen wore #36 at Cal. When he came up with the Yankees, he was first issued #40, then switched to #27, and finally to #25. (With the Senators, he wore #8, then #4; in Boston, he first wore #30 but primarily wore #4.) Currently, #40 is worn by Luis Severino. Other famous 40's include Chien-Ming Wang (2005-2009), Andy Hawkins (1989-1991), and Lindy McDaniel (1968-1973). #27 has been worn by Giancarlo Stanton since 2018; prior to him, it was worn by Austin Romine (2016-2017). It also was the number worn by Bob Wickman (1993-1996), Butch Wynegar (1982-1986), and Woodie Held (1954-1957). Gleyber Torres has worn #25 since 2018; it also was worn by Mark Teixeira (2009-2016), Jason Giambi (2002-2008), Joe Girardi (1996-1999), Jim Abbott (1993-1994), Tommy John (1979-1989), and Joe Pepitone (1962-1969).
  
• Jensen is one of six major leaguers to graduate from Oakland High School, but the only Yankee. Cal has sent 83 players to the majors, including twenty Yankees -- most notably, early 1990s pitcher Chuck Cary, 1930s infielder Lyn Lary, and 1990 A.L. ROY runner-up Kevin Maas.
  
• The Yankees during spring training in 1951 tinkered with the idea of using Jensen into a pitcher. Jensen had been a star pitcher at Cal, including pitching in the 1947 College World Series, and had pitched in a winter league that off-season. But he was bombed in a handful of spring training innings -- while crushing as a hitter -- and the Yankees decided to leave him in the outfield.
  
• College teammates said Jensen wasn't afraid of flying at Cal. His second wife Katharine said the phobia came from a near-miss experience on a flight early in his baseball career -- he looked out the window and saw another plane coming straight at him! The two planes managed to avoid each other, but he was never comfortable on a plane again.
  
• Billy Martin, who also had grown up in Northern California and was Jensen's teammate on both the Oakland Oaks and the Yankees, was merciless when it came to teasing Jensen about his fear of flying. In 1953, on a flight from Okinawa to Honshu to play a series of exhibition games in Japan, the plane ran into a bad storm and was bouncing pretty hard. Jensen, who wouldn't get on a plane without the help of tranquilizers, was blissfully sleeping through the turbulence. Martin found a lifejacket and put it on, then stood over Jensen and shouted "We're going down!"
  
• Arthur Ellen, a hypnotist that Jensen had used to try to cure his fear of flying, believed Jackie wasn't aerophobic at all. It was really a fear of losing his family. "Subconsciously, it developed as a good reason to leave the Red Sox and go home," the hypnotist said.
  
• Jensen is featured prominently in Norman Rockwell's famous 1957 painting, The Rookie. Jensen is the one seated on the bench tying his shoe in the middle of the painting. Standing behind him is Ted Williams, and sitting on the bench next to him is pitcher Frank Sullivan (#18). Wearing the catcher's mitt in the foreground is Sammy White, and the player with his hand over his mouth to the far right is Billy Goodman. Jensen, Sullivan, and White had gone to Rockwell's studio in Massachusetts to pose for the painting; the images of Williams and Goodman were based on photos. The shirtless player was one of Rockwell's assistants, and "the rookie" holding the suitcase was a local high school student!
  
• Boston sportswriters named Jensen the team's MVP in 1954, when he hit .276/.359/.472 with 25 home runs and 117 RBIs. I guess they were tired of giving the award to Ted Williams, who hit .345/.513/.635 that year, albeit in just 117 games as he had broken his collarbone in spring training. Williams didn't qualify for the batting title that year because he had only 386 at-bats... mostly due to his league-leading 136 walks. The rule was subsequently changed from at-bats to plate appearances.
  
• After Jensen was acquired by the Washington Senators, manager Bucky Harris -- who managed the Yankees when they won the 1947 World Series -- pulled him aside and told him he was the right fielder and he'd hit third. "No pep talk, no nothing, but he made it sound like I was the right fielder and third place hitter for a long time to come," Jensen later recalled. "It made me feel good." The 1950s Senators had a number of ex-Yankees and several of them told reporters that Harris was a much more low-key, hands-off manager than Casey Stengel, and Jensen agreed. "With Stengel it was always 'watch for that curve ball' or 'watch for that change up'," Jensen said. "Bucky leaves you on your own up there." But Jensen would later say Stengel was the smartest manager he'd ever had.
  
• Stengel obliquely mentioned Jensen in his famously long, rambling testimony before the Senate Anti-Trust and Monopoly Subcommittee on July 8, 1958. Asked about legislation that would exempt baseball from federal anti-trust laws, Stengel said about 7,000 words without really saying anything. The hearing was held the day after the All-Star Game -- the Stengel-managed A.L. All-Stars won, 4-3 -- and in the American League starting lineup were Jensen and two other ex-Yankees, Bob Cerv and Gus Triandos. Stengel was asked if the Yankees were going to continue to "monopolize" the World Series, and his confusing answer: "Well, I will tell you. I got a little concerned yesterday in the first three innings when I saw the three players I had gotten rid of [Jensen, Cerv, and Triandos] and I said when I lost nine what am I going to do? And when I had a couple of my players I thought so great of that did not do so good up to the sixth inning I was more confused but I finally had to go and call on a young man in Baltimore that we don't own and the Yankees don't own him and he is doing pretty well and I would actually have to to tell you that we are more the Greta Garbo-type now from success. We are being hated. I mean from the ownership and all we are being hated. Every sport that gets too great or one individual -- but if we made twenty-seven cents and it pays to have a winner at home why would you have a good winner in your park if you were an owner? That is the result of baseball. An owner gets most of the money at home, and it is up to him and his staff to do better or they ought to be discharged." After befuddling the committee with answers like that for 45 minutes, Stengel was excused and Mickey Mantle called upon. His opening statement: "My views are just about the same as Casey's."
  
• Casey Stengel later said Jensen plus Spec Shea, Jerry Snyder, and Archie Wilson to the Senators for Irv Noren and Tom Upton was the worst trade the Yankees made during his tenure. But in reality it was pretty much a wash for the Yankees. Jensen, in two seasons, would be worth 4.9 bWAR for the Senators before being traded. Shea, a right-handed pitcher who had been an All-Star with the Yankees as a rookie, pitched four years in Washington and was worth 2.9 bWAR. Snyder was a good-glove, no-hit infielder worth -0.1 bWAR in seven seasons with the Senators. (You must have a really good glove to last seven seasons with a 55 OPS+!) Wilson, at one point seen as a good prospect but now a 28-year-old minor league journeyman, only played 26 games in Washington before being traded. In exchange, the Yankees received the 27-year-old Irv Noren, an outfieldefirst baseman who played five years in New York and was an All-Star in 1954; he was worth 7.9 bWAR, making the trade essentially even by bWAR. (The other player the Yankees received, minor league infielder Tom Upton, never made it back to the bigs.) Prior to the 1957 season, Noren was traded to the Kansas City Athletics as part of a monster 13-player trade that included Clete Boyer, third baseman of the early 1960s dynasty!
  
• The two players Washington got from Boston for Jensen, Mickey McDermott and Tom Upton, were both future Yankees. McDermott was a left-handed pitcher whose father, Maurice McDermott, had played in the minors with Lou Gehrig. Mickey was just 25 years old at the time of the trade but had been in the majors for six seasons, going 48-34 with a 3.80 ERA (114 ERA+). In two years with the Senators, McDermott went 17-25 (but with a 3.58 ERA), then prior to the 1957 season was traded to the Yankees as part of a seven-player deal; he went 2-6 with a 4.24 ERA as a swingman, and closed out the Game 2 win in the 1956 World Series. After that one season in New York, he was part of the trade with the A's that brought back Clete Boyer.
  
• Umphlett, a 22-year-old infielder, was traded back to the Red Sox in 1955, and then the Red Sox traded him to the Yankees in 1962 for infielder Billy Gardner. He would spend 1962 and 1963 in Triple-A for the Yankees, then ended his career in the minors with the Minnesota Twins -- the team that had been the Senators until 1961.
  
• In 1956, the anthology television show Cavalcade of America had an episode called The Jackie Jensen Story. Jackie had a cameo as the adult version of himself, but the 30-minute episode was focused on Jackie's teenage years and the influence of his middle high school coach, a man named Ralph Kerchum who became a father figure. The coach was played by Ross Elliott, a Bronx native whose most memorable role might have been as the director in the Vitameatavegamin episode of I Love Lucy.
  
• Jensen's MVP in 1958 broke a string of four straight MVP awards for Yankees -- Yogi Berra in 1954 and 1955 followed by Mickey Mantle in 1956 and 1957. Nellie Fox of the White Sox won it in 1959, and then the Yankees won it four years in a row again -- Roger Maris in 1960 and 1961, Mantle in 1962, and Elston Howard in 1963. Then a long drought -- the next Yankee to win it would be Thurman Munson in 1976.
  
• Going by bWAR, Mantle should have won it a third straight year in 1958 -- his 8.7 bWAR led the league, followed by Frank Lary at 6.7 and Al Kaline at 6.5. Jensen's 4.9 was 10th that year. Of course, they didn't have bWAR back then!
  
• Jackie won a Gold Glove in 1959; it was just the third year of the award's existence, or he might have won more. "Right field in Boston is a bitch, the sun field, and few play it well," Ted Williams said. "Jackie Jensen was the best I saw at it." Jensen was renowned for his throwing arm -- he twice led the league in assists, and twice led the league in double plays as an outfielder. One Yankee scout said he had the best arm he'd seen since previously forgotten Yankee Bob Meusel, usually said to have the best cannon in baseball history until Roberto Clemente came along.
  
• Jensen was well known for his brashness, especially compared to Mantle's aw shucks attitude. Mantle, asked if he thought he could beat out Jensen to replace DiMaggio in center field, humbly replied that there were three positions in the outfield and he hoped to win any one of them. Jensen, on the other hand, vowed he'd "out-run, out-hit, and out-throw" Mantle, an arrogant answer that didn't go over well with teammates. Joe DiMaggio, asked what he thought of the duel for his old job, quipped that Mantle was "out-quoting" Jensen.
  
• When Mantle was asked what he thought about Jensen's quote, he replied: "I don't know what to make of that guy." Jensen would later say he was misquoted, but reports of his cockiness would follow him throughout his Yankee years. Later in life, Jensen said people mistook his shyness and anxiety for arrogance and rudeness.
  
• According to Sports Illustrated, Jensen is the only player to have played in the East-West football game, the Rose Bowl, the World Series, and the Major League All-Star Game. I'll take their word for it!
  
• As a freshman at Cal, the first time Jensen touched the ball -- on a punt return -- he ran it back for a 56-yard touchdown. Cal quarterback Charles Erb said they'd never seen anything like it. "He was all over the field, dodging and leaping over guys. The rest of us just stood there on the sidelines with our mouths open. Finally somebody said, 'Who in the hell is that guy?' "
  
• Jensen is one of two "forgotten" Yankees in the College Football Hall of Fame -- the other is 1960s catcher Jake Gibbs. (Other Yankees in the College Football Hall of Fame include John Elway, who was in the Yankee minor league system before joining the Denver Broncos, and Deion Sanders, who was on the Yankees in 1989 and 1990.) Jensen also is a member of the Cal Hall of Fame, the Bay Area Sports Hall of Fame, and... ugh... the Boston Red Sox Hall of Fame.
  
• Despite his speed -- Jensen led the league in triples in 1956 and in stolen bases in 1954, and was in the top five in stolen bases in six seasons -- Jackie also was prone to grounding into double plays, leading the league in 1954, 1956, and 1957. His 32 GIDPs in 1954 was the major league record until Boston's Jim Rice hit into 36 in 1984, which is still the single-season record. Rice also had 35 in 1985. Jensen's 32 is tied for third with four others. The most by a Yankee? Dave Winfield with 30 in 1983, which is tied for 14th.
  
• Jensen lost most of his baseball earnings through a series of bad investments. His ex-wife, former Olympian Zoe Ann, later became a blackjack dealer in Reno to pay the bills.
  
• Jensen had four appearances on the popular show Home Run Derby, and set a record for most home runs in one match when he defeated Ernie Banks, 14-11, in Episode 24. The 25 combined home runs also was a record. He took on Mickey Mantle in Episode 3, with Mantle winning, 9-2, then defeated Rocky Colavito, 3-2, in Episode 25. He rematched against Mantle in Episode 26, with Mantle winning again, 13-10. Jensen set another record in that contest when he became the only player to hit four home runs in a row, and then a fifth home run in a row. That episode was supposed to be the season one finale, but it turned out to be the last episode of the series: The show's host and producer, Mark Scott, died of a heart attack at age 45, shortly after the last episode aired, and two months later the show's 64-year-old director Benjamin Stoloff also died. Rather than replacing them, the show was cancelled.
  
• Jensen's last game came against the Yankees, on October 1st, 1961, at Yankee Stadium. He appeared as a pinch hitter and popped out to shortstop Tony Kubek. In the 4th inning of that game, Roger Maris hit his 61st home run, breaking Babe Ruth's single-season record!
  
• Jackie and Zoe Ann had two sons, Jon and Jay, and a daughter, Jan. Jay's son, Tucker Jensen, was a pitcher in the Blue Jays farm system in 2011 and 2012.
  

In 1958, Jensen told Sports Illustrated that the biggest thrill of his career wasn't being an All-American or an All-Star, it wasn't winning an MVP or a World Series. "The biggest is having played in the same outfield with both DiMaggio and Williams."

I hate the cold. It is something that creeps into your body down to your very core. It slows you down until you can’t move anymore. Unfortunately I found myself unable to keep going in my car and With no cell signal I had to abandon it on the side of this mountain road.I just have to head in the direction I came. Just gotta ignore the cold, ignore the snow falling, ignore the baby crying.” Wait what?! Why the hell is a baby out here?!” I shouted to myself as I did my best attempt at a run until I came across a tree stump with a crying baby on it.
The baby was cold to the touch and wrapped in a blanket.” Don’t worry I got you.” I said as I picked up the infant. Eventually making it back to my car I practically prayed that it would start. Whatever car god is out there apparently took pity on me and this small child. The relief of the heat hitting my body was incredible. The baby seemed to be asleep after letting the heat fill the car. I fell asleep. A nightmare jolted me awake. That’s when I noticed that even while asleep I hadn’t put the baby down. How could I put something so fragile and precious down? I didn’t even have my daughter’s car seat. Man, I hope someone finds us in time.
I was startled awake by someone tapping on my passenger window.it was an Asian woman with black hair and icy blue eyes.” Can you help me?” She asked. I scrambled to unlock the door without disturbing the baby. Once the woman was in she practically melted into her seat as she drank in the heat.” What are you doing out here?” I asked, giving her a worried look. She took a moment to think of how much she should tell me.” Lost” was all she said. For a second I could’ve sworn the car went cold.
“I'm Thomas. What’s your name?” I asked, looking at my fellow snow prisoner.A soft “ Yu” was the only response I got as she stared at the snow accumulating around us. Before I could do anything, cold air suddenly blasted out of the air vents.” The hell?!” I yelled like a startled puppy as I panicked to turn it off. Yu seemed unphased by the change in temperature. So did the baby. After thinking about it this baby was unusually quiet. From what I could tell it was a normal healthy baby but it was disturbing how it barely made a sound.
After several failed attempts to get the heat back on we had to make a decision.” Well we can’t stay out here like this. Especially with a baby. We’re gonna have to walk. I passed a gas station a while back. If we make it there we should be alright.” Yu wasn’t happy about the thought of walking but we had no choice with the heat in the car not working. Grabbing my spare clothes from the trunk we layered up and set out.
The snow was in that sweet spot that everyone loves. Not too packed you can’t sink and not too loose to be easy to move. Despite this Yu seemed to move just fine. It was as if none of this weather bothered her. I'm honestly jealous.
We’ve been walking for what feels like hours now. The snow is getting deeper and the baby almost feels heavier than it was. I must be more worn out than I thought. I’d ask Yu to hold it for a while but it doesn’t feel right, like Every part of me was saying “ don’t let go.” I gotta keep walking, gotta find help.
I tripped and twisted my ankle. It hurts like hell and I don’t know where I am. It’s dark and snowing heavily. I keep trying to get up but it feels like there’s a weight on my body pinning me to the spot. Yu is walking over to me. She’s reaching for me Looks like I’m not done yet.
Authorities are still baffled by the body of a young man found not too far from a gas station outside of a small mountain town. Despite appearing as if he’d been out in subzero temperatures of possibly weeks, other evidence shows he’d been alive only hours before the freak blizzard kicked into full gear. There is so far no explanation for the large stone wrapped in clothes he was found holding.

This is a build update from a post I made previously (here). The character is not completely minmaxed but the changes have greatly improved the build.
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Pros:
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* Can run almost every map mod
* Decent damage (7-8M dps)
* Decent recovery/ehp
* High crit
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Cons:
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* Oneshots (not very tanky)
* Niche build
* Little defences
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PoB: https://pobb.in/Ry7YQm8BdznI
Trees: the current one and an experimental non-crit version.
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Damage:
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The damage scaling is maximum Mana, Critical Multiplier, Arcane Surge effect, minimum Power Charges, and increased damage taken (Shock and Wither).
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Arcane Surge is linked to Arcane Cloak (on the left mouse button) and the Divergent quality enables 100% uptime (17s duration). By investing in Arcane Surge effect (190%), the buff grants 58% more damage and 58% increased cast speed (and 168% increased Mana regeneration). Clarity is used instead of Wrath (or a defensive aura) for Sublime Vision's effect.
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The Hierophant enables easily getting 6 minimum Power Charges, and the minimum Power Charge cluster and Inner Conviction, grant 72% increased damage and 16% more damage (and 30% crit multi, 48% crit chance and 48% mana regen).
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Shock is applied through crits since getting 100% shock chance is more complicated (see non-crit version).
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Mana sustain:
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The main Mana recovery comes from the Nexus gloves, "30% chance when you pay a Skill's Cost to gain that much", or on average 30% of Mana recovered per second (cost of skill is about 22% of Mana). The Mana Mastery, "10% chance to recover 10% of maximum Mana when you use a skill", or on average 6% of Mana recovered per second. And Mana regeneration which is around 1,5k/s or 19% of Mana per second (with Agnostic and Righteous Fire active). Combined, it's on average 55% of Mana per second (75% on full life). The Mana Mastery is also scaled by Mana recovery rate (36%) to 13% of maximum Mana. The build also get Mana recoup to reduce the impact of damage from MoM (55%). Unfortunately, there are no Mana mods on bow crucible trees.
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Note: Pure Talent and Transcendent Mind in the witch/templar socket give a significant boost to Mana recovery.
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Defences/recovery:
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The build doesn't have any defences other than resistances and 50-60% MoM, which makes it very squishy. For life recovery, it uses Agnostic (60% of life per second) and Recoup (30%).
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Gear:
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Body armour: Cloak of Defiance for Mana and Mana regen
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Weapon: Voltaxic Rift (crucible tree) for conversion and shock scaling
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Quiver (feathered arrow or synth): Deafening essence of Scorn (global crit multi) and projectile speed (optionally pierce, stun avoidance). The Shattered Divinity is a good budget unique alternative.
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Rings: Despair on hit (optionally minimum Power Charge), Essence of Misery
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Amulet: Atziri's Foible (anoint Heart of Darkness) for Mana and Mana regen
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Gloves: Nexus base for Mana recovery (or lower tier base), Life and Mana
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Helmet: +3 Spark projectiles enchantment, %mana (optionally enemies have -% chaos res)
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Boots: +2 additional pierce (optionally elevated pierce, elusive, tailwind, onslaught), movement speed
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Belt: life and mana (optionally Life and Mana recovery rate, Stygian Vise base)
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Jewels: Militant Faith, Healthy Mind, Transcendent Mind, Sublime Vision, Watcher's Eye, Thread of Hope, large lightning cluster
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Watcher's Eye: a combination of Clarity mods (MoM, recoup, Mana recovery, chance to recover Mana)
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Flasks: Zerphi's Last Breath (excellent life regen burst), Bottled Faith, Diamond Flask, Quicksilver Flask, Sulphur Flask
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Note: my gear improvements are getting elevated pierce on boots, better rings, and a better belt.
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Crucible tree:
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The crucible trees enables Voltaxic Rift to have additional powerful mods that apply spells. I was able to hit a decent tree with 3 good nodes ( [all useful nodes](https://www.pathofexile.com/trade/search/Crucible/p0kkWEef0) ).
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The best combination (imo):
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* t1: 60% global damage/20% increased mana cost
* t2: -3% crit/100% global crit multi
* t3/t4: supported by increased projectile speed support and +2 pierce or 55% increased projectile speed/30% reduced projectile damage (or flat dexterity)
* (No relevant t5)
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The bow on the character has increased mana cost and projectile speed (dex is also useful).
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Map mods:
The build cannot run no regen, and ele curse, reduced max res, and reduced recovery feel bad with Righteous Fire (so I don't activate it).
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Improving the build:
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Other than upgrading the gear, the build needs more mitigation or defences. I want to try and fit Petrified Blood since it can be used with Sublime Vision (not an aura). It would require getting the Life reservation Aura mastery and crafting a ring.

I've got over 70 hours in HLL and while that's not a lot for these types of games I still believe what I'm about to list are implementations that would fit the game style and improve the gameplay for all players without ruining the "realistic" aspect that so many people want.

1. Improve the building space for defenses. The engineer gets a bunker, barricade and barbed wire for defence yet these barely come in handy because of the limited build space for them and this causes people to build them in flat, highly visible and largely irrelevant places to the defence of an objective. I can't count the amount of times a barricade would've perfectly fit in that street or on that bridge but couldn't be built because of this issue, also dying is often when I need to place down a defence under fire and the damn thing won't go green.
2. Show the distance of the enemy that killed you. There's a red ring that loosely points to the direction of the enemy that shot you but it's easily missed and not really a good mechanic. The sound of the gunshots could technically help in some circumstances however in the middle of battle they would just blend in with the rest of the chaos therefore I propose a a number that shows the distance of your killer from you on the death screen, this would in no way give out the exact positions of the enemy and make it unfair for them but would greatly improve information to you and your teammates.
3. Give the engineer class supplies. It's quite odd that the one class that needs supplies more than officers doesn't have it on them from the beginning and has to get a supply truck, support or commander to get it for them. Give them a box of 25-50 supplies just like the support class so they're not so naked in the middle of a defence.
4. Massively improve the LOD. The lod for this game is quite horrendous with buildings/fences/bushes turning into blurry mush a hundred or so meters from you even on Epic settings. The devs made it so that small rock formations, logs, trees are detailed from afar while the points of interest (ruins on the new El Alamein map) are disgusting with no detail at all, prioritize which object needs more detail and which one doesn't also fix the pop in for the trees because it's really bad and distracting.
5. I believe this was discussed by the devs already but add a head movement only mechanic for when you're running across a field or in a city full of alleyways and need to look everywhere without stopping and slowing down.
6. Really minor but create new heads for the original German and American level 1 faces as they're really lifeless and look weird next to the newer, higher quality heads.

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P.S. The British artillery has buggy normal/roughness maps, the shells have the wrong textures/UVs and the animation for reloading does not fit the model of the gun (same for the Flaks but less noticeable)

[previous part] [first part]
Previously:
Newly Undead Volris Russad managed to prove her worth to her new friends, using her wits to retrieve a stolen necklace.
Stong Boned's:
“Look, I can’t help it if my sexual tension is undeniably powerful,” I said to the group sitting around the table with me.
“It didn’t seem to be doing you much good before we arrived,” Kertug replied, lifting a large mug of brown liquid to his lips.
“Yeah, it’s not much help flirting with the enemy after we’ve already won.” Inibis chimed in, stirring her own beverage with her little finger.
“But had we already won?” I posed. “Sure we held the position of power, but they still severely outnumbered us. My strategically placed charm helped us to avoid finishing the fight.”
“And how exactly is that a positive?” Kertug asked, wiping froth from his mouth with the back of his hand.
“So you’re saying that you were tactically flirting?” Inibis asked, her eyes twinkling as she slowly sucked the moisture from her finger.
I felt my insides flutter at the sight. “Exactly,” I replied, thankful that I no longer had skin to flush.
Inibis chuckled softly before taking a sip of her drink. I reached forward for my own, it was a celebration after all.
“So Inibis, how long have you been an active practitioner?” I asked her before taking a long gulp. The liquid had no taste as I had come to expect and did nothing to quench my slowly increasing thirst, yet I drank anyway.
Inibis sighed before offering a response. “I was twelve when I accidentally cast my first Zin. I hadn’t understood what was happening at the time. I hadn’t been taught much of Zannar or the Zane that could wield it. It took me a few more years until I found someone willing to explain it all.” Her eyes dropped into the shimmering orange liquid before her as she spoke.
Kertug reached over and placed a hand on her shoulder. She allowed a smile to touch her lips and placed her own hand atop it.
I felt an odd sense of guilt for asking. It was obvious that the memories weren’t pleasant ones. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to pry.”
“It’s okay V.” She replied. “We all have memories, good and bad. All of them contribute to who we become. Even the bad memories have purpose. They work to make us better.”
That’s quite the optimistic take. I thought to myself. I certainly have more than a few memories that I would struggle to see the good in.
“Well said child,” Kertug said softly. I watched his grip tighten gently on Inibis’ shoulder before he pulled back and grasped both hands around his mug.
“K, you know I’m older than you right?” Inibis shot a playful side-eye his way.
“In cycles, sure. In maturity, you have some way to go.” Kertug replied before draining the rest of his drink. “What’s taking Damal so long? It’s going to be difficult maintaining the celebrations without coin.”
I pushed my own drink across the table towards him. “Here, finish mine.”
Kertug grasped at the glass greedily, moaning softly as he raised it to his lips.
“Speak of the Moku,” Inibis said, leaning back in her seat.
I turned my head to glance behind me at the entrance to the tavern. A familiar cloaked figure limped forward, accompanied by the soft clacking of staff hitting stone. He reached our table quickly, slumping down into the spare seat beside me that we had reserved for him. As he sat, a hand disappeared inside his cloak, returning a beat later and stretching forward to deposit a small leather sack on the table between us all. It clinked with the sounds of metal as it hit the table, the contents causing the bag to slump to the right.
“Started without me I see.” Damal’s voice was strained, softer than usual. Though it still resonated with the usual levity I had come to associate with him.
“What, did you expect us to sit here and not drink?” Kertug asked, finishing the rest of my gifted beverage in one large gulp.
“No you’re right, that doesn’t sound like the friends I know and love.” Damal returned with a smile. “Kert, since you’ve finished?” He gestured toward the bar instead of finishing the request.
Kertug grunted in affirmation and rose, causing the table to wobble violently as he scraped his legs out from under it, before heading toward the bar.
Damal groped forward and opened the pouch on the table, reaching in and pulling out a large handful of coins. He turned and let them fall on the table in front of me.
“Your cut.” He said with a smile.
I glanced up at him in surprise, letting my gaze flick between him and Inibis. Both sat with smiles plastered upon their faces. Glancing down, I did a quick estimation of the coins in front of me.
“This is like, ten quirlar’s worth. That can’t be right?” I questioned, careful to keep my voice low. The tavern we found ourselves in was the same one I’d first met the group the previous loop. It remained quiet as it was still early, but one could never be too careful, especially when such large sums were being exchanged.
“The reward for recovering the necklace was fifty. That’s ten each, plus ten for group funds.” Damal said, his voice matching mine in volume.
“Take it V, you earned it.” Inibis chimed in.
Weirdly, I hesitated. This wasn’t like me at all. I’d screwed people over for less in the past. So why now, when such coin was offered freely, did I feel an odd sense of guilt. I didn’t earn this. I left Kertug to fight alone when he was caught. I was going to hand the necklace over instead of fighting.
A hand on my shoulder caused me to jolt. Kertug leant over me, placing drinks on the table. His long, braided hair swung below his face like a pendulum. “You’re braver than you give yourself credit for.” He whispered softly beside me.
“He’s right. I told you to give it to them. But you didn't. You defended me while I was helpless.” Damal said.
“You didn’t give me away when you fell from the tree,” Inibis added.
“Twice you helped us avoid a fight,” Kertug said as he rammed himself back into his seat. “While I might enjoy a good battle, I’m not fool enough to not appreciate avoiding once if it means keeping us safe.”
I raised my head, running my eyes across the three sitting around the table. I knew now that in place of eyes, my sockets instead held twin fires of deep purple, eternally burning, somehow providing me with vision. Maybe that was why I didn’t see strangers before me. I didn’t see threats or people to exploit. I saw potential. I saw friends.
I scraped the coins together and added them to my own coin purse.
“So, what’s next?” Damal asked.
“Floit,” I replied. My voice harsh. “I need to see a Dragonkin about an Infernal.”

I own land in Klamath county Oregon, in a “town” of less than 100. I’ve lived all over the west coast and the mountain regions, but this was different.
During fire season, things got odd. This was in 2020-2021 especially. I noticed many fires within a short period. It would be a regular occurrence to wake up to smoke billowing over my land from a new fire.
These fires were all visible to me from my home sometimes over a hill, sometimes I could see flames. One night I had a dream of a wall of fire and within a few days my closest neighbors old property in the woods burned down. He wasn’t there, nobody was.
When the fire fighters came, they had new fires starting when the other fire was being put out in my neighborhood, but the little ones were going against the direction of the wind and blocked by hills, rocks and trees, etc. and shouldn’t have been spread by the previous fire. so they had to do extra investigations and couldn’t figure out how it would be possible to naturally spread like that when the fire clean up was already finishing up.
They used a water tank plane on my neighbors small property because it was already putting out 3 other forest fires started within 24 hours, in the same area within a few miles
Sometimes there would be up to a dozen large fires nearby, within a week. Often times by the River down the road and also towards crater lake area.
I also noticed a lot of these were in a line visually, not an exact line but a general geographical line on a large scale meaning it’s like they were being burnt methodically for periods of time. Over a large area.
The military has a base in Klamath falls nearly 60 miles away and fly over often, also the trails in the sky sometimes were at insane levels during this period. (No idea if they’re related with fire)
The explanation of these fires varied, often times there would be a controlled burn, then they’d repost the same story but say it was a forest fire and it was a surprise. Which I thought was odd. Some were possible arson or garbage burning.
The weirdest moments for me were when they were saying it was caused by lightning on sunny blue days with very few clouds.
An area nearby where I go for solitude in nature, was nearly complete burnt in the bootleg fire. It is a very secluded area away from anything. It just so happens to be where a monument is for the only world war 2 enemy bombing site in mainland usa. when a bomb took out school kids outside in the forest during world war 2.
Now I only mention those details to explain that this area gets very weird mysterious vibes and I’m not very superstitious but something just seemed … off and bad.
Thoughts?

- Abandoned bases now have different times until your base is put up as a raidable base. 5 days for default rank, 10 days for vip rank, and 30 days for veteran rank
- Updated Anti-Cheat Plugins
- Added the Hammer and Rock to the instant craft list
- Increased playtime requirements of VIP rank to 40 hours
- Increased playtime requirements of Veteran rank to 60 hours
- Raid time will now be 24 full hours prior to wipe
- Increased cost to respec in the skill tree from 20/skill point to 50/skill point for the default rank.
- Increased cost to respec in the skill tree from 15/skill point to 40/skill point for the default rank.
- Increased cost to respec in the skill tree from 10/skill point to 30/skill point for the default rank.
- Removed reset cost multipler on Skill Tree points when respec'ing
- Plyaer with the highest xp at wipe will get 5 bonus skill points when wipe happens
- Skill points will not carry over between wipes
- All players now start out with 2 skill points by default
- When a player is offline they get 750 "rested" xp per hour, up from 500. This rested XP gives you 125% xp gain until the rested xp is run out.
- Rested XP now resets at wipe
- All players now get 75 RP when someone votes! Including the person who voted!
- Voting rewards have been updated to include a new voting website!
- Every 5 votes a player will get 1 supply signal
- Decreased daylight time from 55 minutes to 45
- Increased night time from 5 minutes to 15
* Use the instant daytime command in /shop if you want to skip the night
- Added wood to items that can be sold in /shop
- Added stones to items that can be sold in /shop
- Added scrap to items that can be sold in /shop
- Added cloth to items that can be sold in /shop
- Added ladder in /shop under "Items"
- Added Super Serum to /shop under "Food"
- Increased price of the Auto Turret to 1500 RP
- Increased price of Spas 12, M39, LR-300, L96, AK-47 Ice, & AK-47 to 850 RP
- Added Storage Adapter, Electric Furnace, Industrial Combiner, Industrial Conveyor, Industrial Crafter, & Industrial Splitter to /shop
- All cases have been upgraded! Use /cases to open up the cases menu!
- Removed player challenges, and replaced with player ranks. Use /rank or /ranks to see your spot in the leaderboard!
- New Auto Bans have been enabled for toxic chat. This is only in extreme cases, but still don't push your luck. This server is to be an inclusive friendly environment for all. Toxicity is strictly prohibited.
- Due to the fact that the 10/12 servers and the weekly servers wipe when they do, compared to the Monthly server, I have adjusted the RP gain for all servers. The 10/12 and weekly servers will gain RP at a 250% increase compared to the monthly servers. The prices of the shop and raidable bases will remain unchanged.
- All RP will reset every wipe due to the above changes in RP gain increases.
- Fixed a bug where RP wasn't given to the player when killing certain NPC's
- Killing the patrol heli now gives you 750 RP
- Killing Bradley gives you 500 RP
- Fixed a bug where skinning an NPC wouldn't give appropriate RP values
- Gathering sulfur nodes is now increased to 3 RP up from 2.5 RP
- Fixed a bug where opening an box in the Christmas Dungeon wouldn't give appropriate RP values

Hello! How do I apply this feature/code using Tree Style Tab?
https://github.com/mbnuqw/sidebery/wiki/Firefox-Styles-Snippets-(via-userChrome.css))
This one is for the Sidebery extension which I do not want to install since the font is abnormally large for me.

Not sure if this is the right subreddit for this, but I'm currently working on a dress which is supposed to be simulated later. I'm creating it in Marvelous Designer. Said dress should have a large skirt, so it's supposed to have an underskirt. In all tutorials I've found they just used simple static objects unterneath, but in all of them the cloth is not simulated in motion, just a static frame to display the dress. So if I want to simulate it in a szene where the character walks, how would i make the underskirt? Because if it's just a static object, wouldn't it look unnatural?

They called them "words of the wise", and they guided everything in their life. The Arhada lived by them, followed them strictly and sometimes created them out of thin air: these words filled their days with meanings, and the unexpected vicissitudes of life with a sense of calm acceptance. They hung in the air, filling silences, guiding them through conversations, solving their problems.
Alanaporo took a small brush. Her hand was deft and able and the mother Rededojôrho admired that about her – so much so that she had tasked her with decorating all the pots that the women of the house made from then on. She would paint swirls and curves and other geometrical patterns encircling the main pictures: symbols that represented those "words of wisdom", ancient and new. With enough inventiveness, one drawing could stand in for the answer to a great existential question: words of wisdom no longer hung in the air, they became alive in everyday items, in rooms, on the very faces of people. Alanaporo was the most skilled artist of them all, and all the famous ladies and men of the palace wanted their faces painted by her with the proverb they strived to embody and their marriage pots painted with vivid reminders of their future life.
The one she was working on now was a large, crafted with ability and care by young hands. The youngest daughter of Rededojôrho had made it a long time ago, when she first entered adulthood. Three years had passed and the vase had remained in the treasury, filled with the gifts she had received on that fateful day. It was already decorated: the young girl had marked it with her comb, undulating it across its circumference, and then filled the undecorated areas with regular white dots all around. Since then, however, her tastes had changed and she wanted something that represented her more, something that reminded her of her impending wedding. With a rough stone, Alanaporo had scraped the white paint away and had begun her new work.
She dipped the brush in a mixture of red ochre and jaba oil, made thick and shiny. It would take a while for it to dry, but this was a ceremonial object, it would not be touched until the lady's wedding, two months later. She drew the symbols: a man a woman above, a couple of holy spirits below.
"a groom and bride become divine: all gods are brides and grooms, all brides and grooms are gods"
The red pigment flowed swiftly across the porous surface of the vase. A symbol to honour its bearer.
***
The mother Rededojôrho herself had once again tasked Alanaporo with the decorations of a wooden box where she would put her copper jewelry. The small chest was handsome, built by the lady's husband in black ebony. Yellow ochre would be quite beautiful with that, but the lady requested Alanaporo would carve it instead.
A persimmon tree had provided the wood – they said the tree was almost two hundred years old when it was cut down: the clan had kept some for themselves and sold a great deal of it to neighbouring villages, insuring themselves against the penury of a less than abundant harvest.
The painter decorated the sides with a wiry decoration of parallel lines conjoined at the bottom and the top, and then drew a larger symbol on the lid of the chest:
"when a man speaks out of turn he breaks a wall and burns a roof: for to disrespect a woman is to disrespect her house."
This would remind any man who would dare to open that sacred object about the grave affront they were committing towards the lady – the disrespect that merely entering the treasury would signal to the entire clan. A symbol to warn off intruders.
***
Tears streamed from Alanaporo's face as paint dripped form her brush. This vase was meant to hold the ashes of her dearest matriarch Rededojôrho, the woman who had welcomed her into her palace, given her her favour, given her her trust.
She remembered, many years ago, Rededojôrho had seen her wares at the market. "You hand is talented, girl, you deserve fame for your craft."
She had grown used to life at the palace, and she had made lifelong friends amongst the lovely halls of the high-house of Kamābarha, friends she would keep forever; none of them were as important to her as the woman who had given her that life, who had given her art the chance to thrive. The vase was entirely glazed with a white, shiny coat. She would not paint upon it, it would wash off too easily: instead, she took a small knife and scraped away to glaze to reveal the symbol.
"A person is a stalk of rice: we are planted, we grow and we are cropped when we are ready."
It was Alanaporo's way to say goodbye to the woman who had been a second mother to her. A symbol to remind everyone of the beginning and the end.
____________
Background: The formative era sees the emergence in the lands of the Arhada of the growing cultural practice of proverb glyphs. These symbols, visual representations of key cultural concepts, usually summarised in one of two simplified pictures, become a foundational part of Arhadan visual language as the most commonly found decorative and expressive tool. This vast semiotic vocabulary develops as a way to create "speaking objects", especially pots, pipes and other ceramic apparatus. A proverb initially served as a reminder of the objects function – later, as the symbology deepened in meanings, and decorated objects became more ceremonial in function, the message behind them became more culural, rather than functional, reminding either of the virtures of the owner and user of the objects, or the more implicit meanings behind an artifact. The practice spreads away from artisanship and towards art: facepaint, usually made with basic oil paints of mixed ochre and jaba oil, became another vessel for the development of pictographs, as well as woodcarvings and textiles.
Because the creation of specialised crafts, especially when dealing with smaller, ceremonial objects is tied to the work of elite women, the people who most readily specialise as painters are almost exclusively from the palace – either women of the clan, the wives of clanmen or favourites who entered the palace later in life. This period is also a great time of craft specialisation: those who become more skilled and talented in a specific art are most often tasked with performing exclusively that task: the maker of a vase, its glazer, its painter become separate figures, following the design of a single piece of pottery, especially the most complex and prised ones, at different stages.

I'm having an issue with my Kobra max. The Z height is lowering during the print. It seems to happen to certain models and not other models. It normally happens in the first few layers . I tried 2 different slicing programs and the same thing happens. Cura is my preferred slicer if there might be a setting that would help me. I've also updated the firmware to the newest version and that didn't help. 

For anyone who might not know what I’m referring to: In Auburn there is a hike called Dead Truck Trail, and at one point in the hike, you pass a vintage truck that is sitting in the middle of the forest with large trees growing through it. If I remember correctly, there is no road “above” (up the hill) from the truck. Just mountainside.
Does anyone know how the hell the car got there!?
Ever since my hike there I’ve pondered this more times a week than I’d like to admit lol and Google has not been able to answer this question.
Tysm!

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Chapter Summary:
Shot Heard Across the Galaxy A poor Shil'vati patrol goes looking for that Security Force that just got blasted in the last chapter
First Contact: We jump POV, where Elias gives them "pretty much the exact terms" of their invasion and occupation, turning it back on them.

Shot Heard Across the Galaxy

The summer had clung on by the tips of its fingernails despite the threatening change in season. The dry morning air heated quickly back to what Serenie had grown accustomed to, as if to deny the inevitable unwelcome encroachment of the biting cold night they'd just endured performing riot control in the center city.
Serenie learned some new insults over her comm as a pursuing Captain Goshen had watched the insurgent 'clear a building in a single bound like a retarded kangaroo with viagra in its tail.'" Serenie had never seen a kangaroo, but Earth's nature had fascinated her, and the loose familiarity caused her alone to laugh uproariously at the Captain’s breathless fury.
There were some other matters the Captain had muttered about, such as ‘lies turning truth’ that seemed to elude Serenie’s grasp. One thing that the Captain made certain Serenie did understand was the concept of punishment duty for her laughter. Double-shifts just seemed to be the order of the day, but being sent far afield with these people could hardly be called anything else. The scenery was occasionally something she’d have called nice, if it wasn’t for her present circumstance.
She was stuck with her new podmate, Zell, who it seemed just could not shut up.
"Look. All I'm saying is, they're hot. Hotter than the Security Forces 'squad' we're looking for. 'Squad.' Such a stupid-sounding word."
Serenie's expansive patrol pod had been shattered apart by casualties in the wake of Emperor's attack on Unification Square. The combat patrol had been dropped over twenty feet onto jagged concrete as the overpass they were sprinting across collapsed underneath them into rubble, courtesy of planted explosives. Serenie was one of the only ones to come out with relatively minor injuries and to make a full recovery. She'd even hobbled to the square on a broken leg, just in time to behold the horrific spectacle of the building’s collapse.
Now those cast off shards of incomplete pods had been shuffled and mixed up to serve with some temporarily deployed Shil'vati forces from out-of-state.
Two whole pods made up of the odd numbers from other units, sent to Delaware on punishment duty of their own came together to compose the new team of six out of the hodgepodge. Once Zell had used all her brain to do the math, she announced excitedly: ‘A grateful human boy for each of their rescuers.’
And so the two pods set off with initial enthusiasm, unburdened by much familiarity with one another. That had been three miles ago, and by now the excitement had given way to bitterness over how they were wasting time on a long walk across open, somewhat bleak bulldozed terrain that nature work crews had yet to reclaim, doing Search and Rescue for a bunch of deserters who didn't want to be found at all, instead of rounding up those 'mysterious hot insurgent guys.'
Serenie reflected that at least the razed structures and tall grasses offered a nice view of the vibrant colors the trees were starting to turn. A 'silver lining,' as the more optimistic locals liked to say. 'Well the square was utterly destroyed and you're led by an idiot from a green zone, but at least you're alive!'
The boys here were always upbeat. Then again, they were paid to take their clients' minds off their troubles. And she had to admit they worked better than the stupid Anarevoca. The deep rest in the arms of the man she'd visited while on mandatory medical and psychological leave had done more for her recovery and in then passing the evaluation than anything else she’d tried. She didn’t regret a moment or credit of the exchange, even if the bribes and fees to slip her out and get her the secret rendezvous did her accounts the same kind of damage as she herself had suffered.
She hoped Azraea hadn’t lowered the score just to get every soldier back on the front lines, and switched her line of thought. It did her no benefit to dwell on such things. ‘At least he let me sleep longer than I paid for’, she reflected, remembering the faintly sweet musk of where his shoulder met his neck, and how gently he’d run his fingernails along the back of her head, through her scalp until she fell asleep.
"The insurgents are not 'hot'," Serenie sputtered. "They're supposedly all too old, too set in their ways to adapt. You know, like, twice your age. You got a father-fucker fetish or something?" Serenie had already had more than an earful of this conversation, and repeating her rent-a-paramour’s comforting words buttressed her conviction. The honeyed sense of validation he’d whispered into her ears was better than dwelling on the possibility that the planet and all the men on it all just outright hated her.
"What, so you got your asses kicked by a bunch of daddies?" At Serenie's stare, her new podmate from New Jersey relented slightly. "Okay, fine. At least admit the idea of them is hot. So hot.” When Serenie didn’t bite, Zell kept going. “Come on- physically active, mysterious, and just need some love and affection before they realize we aren't so bad, and you win 'em over with -"
"-Yeah, alright, you find one, you try it, you tell me how it goes. If you survive and he’s somehow tolerating even someone like you, then I figure I can swipe him off you."
"Fuck no, we'll share, and you'll be grateful I'm so generous. Seriously, share the insurgency, I say. I can charm 'em so good we'll have peace within the day."
Serenie wondered how Zell had served this long and didn't realize human men tended to be fiercely monogamous. Maybe things were different where Zell served, though Serenie doubted it was.
"That's something I actually wanted to ask. I thought maybe you'd know." Serenie wasn’t sure why Zell might know anything, but it was at least in the area of Zell’s obvious obsessions. "How is 'fuck' an insult? Especially when the humans say words that mean 'fuck you,' but they use it as an insult. But even other forms of it mean ‘get fucked,’ or something."
"You sure it's an insult? Sounds like an invitation, if you ask me. Have you tried asking them ‘when’?"
Just one more addition to the ever-growing mountain of evidence that Zell was an idiot.
The new pod's equally new sergeant was little better, but at least when Sergeant Patmorica interrupted this time, it was focused on the mission. Her comm cut through the half-hearted banter as she made her periodic report at the required interval.
"Command, we've got eyes on a pretty good LZ on the crest of this hill, mark for exfiltration if necessary." Sergeant Patmorica pointed a gauntleted finger to the ridge on the far side of the field. Rote procedure; the last one she'd pointed to would be marked as a secondary. "Got a wide open view of that woods near where the patrol of Security Forces went missing- not seeing much out here in the field. Permission to move into the forest and check for them?"
Data Officer Borzun's voice floated back. "Granted. Relief forces will be en route if you find anything, ETA eleven minutes from Command."
The return signal sounded distant, quieter than normal. Something about that troubled her, but Serenie didn't want to draw the attention of a sergeant eager to prove she was capable of leading a couple pods, or feel she had to prove herself to the red zone veteran. Even more disturbing, Zell looked ready to start talking again.
"How are the other leads looking?" Serenie piped up quickly. At least the sergeant might offer something helpful, even if the information was secondhand.
"Not great. A lot of the people who are supposed to be patrolling looking for rebels are responding to the strikes and protests at the prisons, beating up protestors who weren't on any lists, trying to restore some semblance of order," Sergeant Patmorica responded with surprising candor.
"Be a real shame if no one's here. We could be out there helping," Zell picked up the line conversationally as they descended from the crest of the hill near the river, past an old sign that read 'Mister Pasta'. "Instead we're chasing down wayward Security Forces, who probably cut and ran."
"Best lead we've had so far," Patmorica responded.
"Have you heard anything about 'Camp Death'?"
"Just whispers. Nothing solid," Patmorica said, stepping over a half-buried old curb. The work here in leveling the town and returning it to nature had certainly been hurried and half-done. The ridge of the distant trees hadn't expanded outward much at all.
"Supposedly, it's somewhere in the North. We're in the North."
"What, you think Camp Death is actually in the middle of nowhere, somewhere out here? Come on, the town's leveled. There was a bomb that went off literally over there-" Serenie pointed across the rubble of the highway they were walking along. "-Some local shirtless kid pulled a Lieutenant out of the rubble."
"Doesn't seem to have been enough for them to consider saving the neighborhood. Not a chance it's out here; Work crews woulda spotted it."
"Guess the work crews finally got around to really taking the place apart before, you know, 'shit hit the fan.'
Human words were very evocative. Terrible situations lined with precious metals, feces being sprayed about by rapid physical impacts- the mental images they provided, disturbing though they often were, seemed silly enough to bring a smile that had been all too absent on the senior private's face ever since her time in Unification Square.
There used to be some roads here, but all that's been cut off. A bunch of trees, and no structures, no infrastructure, and a bunch of troops? That's just begging for an orbital strike."
"He might have the hostages there. Anywhere might."
The sergeant paused, contemplating something, then jumping into a private comm chat with Serenie, her voice coming through a bit more crisply. "Yeah, alright. Look, I read your file. You had your run-ins. You're still shaken, I understand that, but I need you to not jump at shadows, got that? You get to go on patrol with us, finding some lost boys who forgot how to read a map, and maybe lending your local expertise. But I have to weigh that against what you went through. The absolute last thing I need is you opening fire because one of the Security Forces guys sneezes, and it sets you off. Are we clear? Not everything's an insurgent. Not everything is done by insurgents."
"Ma'am," Serenie responded. "Understood. I'm cleared as ready for action." Idiot or not, Sergeant Patmorica was still her commanding officer for the time being, and she couldn't exactly relate her late night rendezvous in a red zone and say she was 'all better now.' Confessing such a violation was just begging to be written up.
"That's what I like to hear." Something about her answer or stature must have been conveyed while providing the words because they seemed to reassure Patmorica of her readiness. Serenie felt a ray of hope that she was really, well and truly had finally free from the aftereffects.
The rest of the walk along the treeline was blessedly quiet. Five minutes of peaceful walking. No idiots, no stupid orders, no more braggadocia. Even in full kit, Serenie enjoyed nature on earth in all its many mysterious and downright strange aspects. The morning chill felt crisp, and the crunch of dried parched dirt and grasses under her boots felt more alive than the steady beat of boots-on-plate aboard a starship's hull, no matter how large or ambient the white noise supplied.
It was as she reflected on the multitudinal ways the experience was different that she had a realization.
"There's something wrong."
"Is it that we got sent out without a vehicle? 'Cause I think we could have covered all this ground in a few seconds. Honestly, says everything that the Governess shipped us out here, but got tight-fisted with vehicles and equipment."
"No, everyone, be quiet!"
"You be quiet, Serenie!" The soldier in front of Zell snapped back.
"Shut up!" She hissed. Sergeant Patmorica spun on her heel. "Private Serenie. What are you-"
"Please, just- just- would you just listen!" A few seconds passed as everyone stared, either obeying or just shocked at the quiet girl's outburst.
"Listen...for what?" Zell finally broke the silence.
"Exactly. Do you hear anything? Birds? See any deer? Where are all the animals?"
"What's your point?"
"I think that we are not alone in this forest."
"Well, we were sent in to investigate where people disappeared to. Duh. It's a good thing if we aren't."
"But where are the animals?"
"I don't know. They migrate, right? Look." As if on cue, a tight formation of flying Canadian Geese passed overhead, honking. "There's your noisy animals right there."
Zell pointed and quipped. “Look sarge, insurgents!” The hand tracked the geese as they flew overhead.
Serenie felt trapped. How had some stranger from out-of-state been promoted to Sergeant and assigned to lead these pods, despite clearly never leading so much as a patrol in a yellow zone? Worse, Patmorica continued her teasing, likely to try and regain some face after her authority being openly challenged.
"Should we call it in? Tell Command: 'it's quiet' or ‘I saw some parrots’? With everything else going on in the state, do you think they'll laugh, or do you think they'll...?" The sergeant turned back to face the forest whose edge they were weaving in and out of, turning to start walking up the steep hill again, as if transfixed by something. "Hold on. I've got some thermal there and- hey, are you Ladies picking this up? I've got an IFF..."
Serenie dutifully reported her readings, grateful to at least get the topic changed. "I've got one friendly- two now. Security Forces standard."
Sergeant Patmorica pointed up the steep embankment she'd been about to start walking up. "I'm reading them as being straight ahead on my map. Confirm?"
This time someone else spoke up, and with all the fresh voices and full helmets, Serenie wasn't sure she could place them all. She was too busy staring at the collection of dead and dried branches lining the bottom of the hill.
What might leave such a large swath or create a clearing? A bear? She'd seen a video of one rubbing their backs against trees, one of the first to return to the state of Delaware, dubbed ‘DelaBear. These were certainly very large, unfamiliar trees. She’d never seen anything like them before, much as she’d never seen a Bear. To her mind, she might imagine such a large furry beast seeking out a suitably large tree, for some purpose or other. But she did not see any tufts of fur stuck in the grass or to the bark. And didn’t they only do that when shedding off their loose fur in Spring?
"It's two of the missing Security Forces," reported the sergeant somewhat spiritedly, leading the way toward the hill, the pod moving forward in her wake.
She crouched low again, taking a step back, eyes following where a serpentine footpath ascended the bluff. It was hard for her to make out if there were any footprints or animal tracks in the parched dirt, until at last she saw one near her own footprint. Conclusive evidence eluded her, but she thought she could make out a boot print, and searched her memory. Was it the pattern of the Security Forces uniforms? Was she just searching for signs and evidence, the conclusion already obvious in her mind?
Then she turned in place, and saw the many trampled grasses behind them, only noticeable once the patrol had reached where they had all converged. There were far, far too many to be the Security Forces.
"Zell. Zell! Hold here," Serenie whispered, putting her hand out to block her new podmate's progress.
"What?"
"Trust me."
"Privates! Fall in!"
Patmorica's tone was harsh. Serenie motioned like she was going to comply, freezing in place again the moment the sergeant's back was turned to her again. Something about this place seemed wrong. Where were the others of their 'squad'? And why hadn't they reached out to them on the comms yet?
Zell shook her hand free of Serenie's.
"Zell. Zell!"
Zell ignored her.
"Zell, will you stop thinking of fucking your father and turning your family tree into a circle for one depths-damned minute and listen to me!? Something. Is. Wrong."
"What?" Zell hissed, annoyedly. "I'm not getting in trouble just because you have 'a feeling'."
"There's some sort of structure up top. I'm getting metal readings. Way more than just their plate armor. Sensors are reading weird depressions on the way up, too. I'll relay it to your suits' telemetry. Are you receiving this?"
"How do I do that?" Zell asked, tapping her helmet. "Ah to the depths with it. Could it be caves?" Serenie's dimwitted podmate asked, clearly dreading that the answer potentially might be: 'Yes, now we have to go explore them.'
"Didn't you read your briefing? Delaware doesn't have caves." Serenie had read that first upon deployment, and then wondered where all the bats came from.
"Then what is-"
At that point, her comms dropped off completely, replaced with a sharp whine in her ear.
Communications lost. Signal lost.
"Ma'am, Sergeant? Zell? I've got a suit malfunction- I can't hear you." Serenie called out, pressing the button to retract the mouthpiece of her helmet. Her suit's connection to the satellites seemed to have cut out. Most of her HUD blanked out as she stepped forward to be heard, the device no longer receiving data to sync with the other suits and Command. The Friendly IFF signals had winked out as well.
Everyone seemed to be looking amongst each other, slowly coming closer together to be heard, faceplates retracting so they could speak, or touching helmets so the suit would pick up the vibrations.
So it wasn't just her, then, but her podmates, too. All of them were eyeing the hill, now, Serenie's sinking suspicion catching on. Then, everyone was calling out activity at once, some of them pointing in different directions, clumsily sighting down their rifles without the HUD to guide their targeting reticle.
"Everyone fall back. Rifles up- rifles up! Those are not friendlies!"
Movement from the crest of the ridge, figures pointing down at them, including the long barrels of unusual weaponry, the likes of which Serenie had seen glimpses of before, and again in her nightmares. Voices called out over one another, without a comms system to filter or grant priority.
"Motion! I've got motion!"
"It's an ambush!"
"Identify and surrender now! Lay down your weapons!" The sergeant yelled. There was no answer, but neither side opened fire. "Identify yourselves immediately!" Bellowed the sergeant, again, switching her command suit to loudly project her voice in the local tongue. "Surrender immediately!" Serenie was pulling Zell back. They were vastly outnumbered.
Those low, unmistakable, clipped and precise tones of the Emperor of Mankind that her translator didn't need to pick up had her heart thrumming in her ears too loud to even make out the words, no matter how clearly enunciated they were. She knew what they meant well enough, and her steps backward started carrying her out of the woods on instinct.
For what it was worth, her sergeant didn't balk, and renewed her demands.
"Surrender immediately! Lay down your arms!"
The response was as sudden as it was brutal. Where once Sergeant Patmorica had stood, now there was empty air. Something powerful cleaved her in half, a sharp roar of noise following as the hypersonic round split the air in a deafening thunderclap.
She hadn't quite been vaporized, rather jerked clean off her feet by a sudden and terrible impact, boots leaving the ground and her body separated at the middle, halves toppling to the ground and held together by the just as suddenly exposed entrails. The shock of the impact had surely killed her instantly.
Serenie turned on her heel and ran for her life.

First Blood

"Sur-ren-dar!" The call sounded out from the valley below. One of those few words the Shil'vati knew and uttered almost every time we met, often before we'd even begun fighting.
I grabbed the megaphone, irritated that I'd been kept waiting so long for them to show up. "We don't have enough facilities to take you all prisoner. Please elect your bravest, most stalwart defenders of your way of life, and have them step forward into the line of fire for us to dispose of. The remainder of you will be afforded the same kindness as you have given our civilians. As you're unfamiliar with democracy and the concept of 'voting,' we'll give you a moment to conform to our system of governance and culture, whether you like it or not. You get an unreasonably short amount of time to comply."
I tossed the Megaphone back down to Larry, who stared up at me with wide eyes. The sound of wind through the trees was all endured for now, a shocked silence settling in.
"What?" I asked, hefting the railgun up to my shoulder with a shrug and aiming down the sights at the one who continued to bellow threats. It seemed we had a volunteer. "Turnabout is fair play."
I raised an open hand to all those who had watched, and the stunned silence turned to eager discipline, men sighting irons and readying themselves to unleash hell as I lowered my hand slowly, indicating I was to take the first shot.
"The Emperor has given his orders!" He bellowed into the megaphone. "Hold the line! Hold for the signal!"
I squeezed off the first round, letting the railgun round kick- and this time I was braced for it. The shot took the woman right in the midsection, and tore her apart. Screaming and shouting from below- but no signs of an immediate mass surrender.
"FIRE!"
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“Are you sure about this?” Comms called through the short-wave, Willin’s headset crackling only slightly louder than the pouring rain. It was distorted and covered the timbre of his voice, but it worked.
He checked the batteries on his guns, both pistol and rifle topped off. The pistol was secured into the holster on his hip, the rifle slung across his chest over the heat-plate designed to dissipate any plasma that might hit it. His armour wouldn’t do the best against kinetic armaments—it was never designed to go against a railgun—but military personnel were rarely given those anyway. Too inefficient.
“As sure as I can be,” he replied, checking his harness. Two spare batteries, four ration packs, water, the transmitter that fed into his headset, some assorted tools for unlikely scenarios, and a knife tucked into his boot. The footwear was typically used for traversing hostile environments or boarding operations—the material thick and cumbersome—but it worked just fine for him. He had gotten used to wearing it.
He opted not to bother with the helmet. It would limit his senses in a place like this, the EW field making even the most basic function disorienting. Tech adjusted the physical scope on her rifle, though her favourite weapons were the two Compact Anti-personnel and Rapid Discharge systems she had attached to her hips—the CARDs being designed to switch between rapid-shot clusters to suppress a wide area, and a single-fire mode better suited to more precise requirements. The larger weapon was mostly for show—there was hardly a reason to carry an Anti-Material Rifle to begin with—but it didn’t hurt to counter possible armour.
The purple-furred female’s true weaponry rested both on and under her armour, her augments and the equipment linked to them making her a mobile Electronic Warfare platform. Though much of her abilities would be limited in scope here, she was still more than capable of supporting him. He would be relying on her to dissuade any action against them, as well as using her modifications to keep them in the loop.
She looked like an oddly-coloured female, but she was closer to a walking EMP and scanner rolled into one.
“Short-wave is stable, if a bit distorted,” Willin continued, flicking some of the water off his fur. “Tech will try to keep the signal clean, but no promises. Comms, Nav, you two are keeping the craft warm and ready.”
“Understood, Leader,” Nav replied, their androgynous voice warbling slightly. “Estimated time-frame?”
“Long enough for you two to figure out the ration-packets.”
Comms laughed over the headset. “Nav would rather lick the floors.”
“Just don’t get too distracted with each other while we’re gone,” Willin teased through his smirk, Tech rolling her eyes at him.
“The same could be said for you, Leader. Don’t get too caught up making ‘friends’ with the locals.”
“Or Tech,” Nav added dryly. Their tone hovering between annoyance at the jibes regarding Comms and Nav’s occasional fling, and amusement at the suggestion Tech was interested in pursuits of the flesh with the crew at all. She might be, but she had a habit of dropping the thermostat of whichever room belonged to whoever made the comment, so it was safer to just assume she was off-limits.
“Cold room,” Tech responded casually as she adjusted her audio interface, Nav sighing loud enough for it to be picked up. Comms laughed in a way that suggested he was thankful for Tech’s assistance in ensuring Nav would be seeking a warm bed for the moon. Willin shook his head, hoping that they didn’t need to extract in any particular hurry.
It was easier to get in the air when your two remaining crew weren’t otherwise occupied.
“Batteries green. Supplies green. Short-wave sufficient,” he reported, receiving confirmations from Tech. “Operation is to establish communication with local Grand Hunter and receive compliance, information on other packs, and facilitate reintroduction to structure.”
“Alternative is to report pack as non-compliant and pursue other Grand Hunters,” Tech added, repeating what they went over earlier. “My augments are heavily limited, but we should be able to deal with it.”
“Are you sure that you two can manage hostilities?” Comms asked, his voice faltering slightly. Though they had been assigned to the scout craft at random, they had grown rather close as a unit over their time. If it wasn’t for the professional obligations prohibiting it, they might have all decided to move into a den together—they were that intimately familiar with each other. As it was, they would likely be reassigned to serve elsewhere after their current mission was complete.
Such was the life of those like them.
“Tech has more equipment under her fur than our ship has installed—weakened or not,” Willin assured the male. He shot a pointed look at the female. “She’s also under direct order to return in the event things become too dangerous. Alone, if required.”
Tech scowled, but nodded anyway. Comms grunted their understanding. “Leader?”
“Yeah?”
A moment of pause. “Nothing. Come back, okay?”
“Will do my best, Comms. Nav, keep an eye on him.”
“It will be done, Leader. Stay safe.”
He placed a paw to his headset, hovering over the button to cut the transmission. “You too.”
“Ready to go?” Tech asked, slinging her AMR over her back and re-securing her CARDs. Willin double checked his auxiliary equipment, hoping that he didn’t need to use any of it. Nodding, he gestured for her to follow, the two leaving behind the craft to slip into the woods.
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“Something up?” he asked, raising a brow at Tech. The female was fidgety, restless and scanning their surroundings more than required. She might have heard something, but the thunderous hiss of rain drowned out most everything—it was part of the reason they waited for it.
She wore a reluctant expression, her eyes flickering to the silver and gold trees for a moment. “Prox’ is going wild.”
“Proximity sensor effected?” he queried, feeling the weight of his weapons tug on his body. Tech nodded.
“It’s weak. I think the ‘spike is messing with it—along with everything else—but it’s reporting…a lot.”
“Moving?”
She shook her head, a paw twitching over a CARD. “Not until we go past them.”
He joined her in looking around, shaking off water uselessly. “Wildlife?”
“This stealthy?”
Willin shrugged. “The message mentioned that it was different.”
“Details would have been nice,” she grumbled in return, waving her paw to get him moving again, though she kept one on her weapon.
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“Visual,” he reported, lowering the rifle from his shoulder. “Anything?”
Tech shook her head, still on a swivel. “Prox’ is still lit up, but at this point it might be less distracting to shut it off.”
“Keep it. Rather have it telling us things are around all the time than miss something big because we got annoyed.”
She sighed, tapping her audio interface twice to change the song she had playing. “What do you see?”
“Low fences, but dense buildings. Lots of traffic despite the weather. Looks like they’re used to it. Think they know we’re here?”
“Doubt it. Gear?”
He shouldered his weapon to look through the scope. “No guns, but lots of melee. Armour seems to be a mix of leather and metal. Can’t say what kind.”
Tech pulled her AMR to look, Willin shifting to keeping lookout. “No guns…” She shot him a look. “I’m not sure if that’s reassuring, or worrying.”
He shrugged. “The less I need to get shot at with, the better.”
“The goal is to not give them reason to.”
“Well, I can’t be perfect all the time.”
Tech laughed, the banter easing her nerves. “You’d have to start, Leader.”
With a roll of his eyes, he patted her shoulder with the back of his paw. “Let’s get moving. Diplomacy doesn’t do itself.”
The purple-furred female sighed, likely biting back another quip as she nodded.
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It went better than expected. So far, anyway.
They had approached the settlement proper, received what could be described as a ‘lukewarm’ welcome, then were told to follow several Lilhuns donning black leather and far too many daggers. Their escorts kept a close eye on the guns that they brought, but no one had made any comments about them yet. It was encouraging, but also worrying.
“Still nothing?” he muttered, quiet enough to not be heard by the others, but loud enough for Tech. She seemed hesitant, glancing over to one of the taller structures as they passed through, but gave a subtle shrug.
“Static is messing with my augments,” she grumbled. “Could be none, could be a few snipers. I can’t tell.”
He exhaled heavily. It was a bit of a blessing that her modifications were working at all, but it was easy enough to see that she felt bare without all the little tweaks she had gotten used to.
Willin never actually got the chance to learn all the tricks she was capable of—it was against policy to ask and she never saw fit to talk about it—but of the ones he did know; her proximity sensor, jammer, and ship integration were her favourites.
It was hard to board her ship if she knew where you were, locked up your gun, then spaced the room you were in, all without closing her game. He was pretty sure she was disappointed that she had only gotten to do that once.
“New ones, the Grand Hunter will see you soon,” an escort informed them as they drew near the Atmospheric Entry Craft that acted as a den for the one they were here to meet. They didn’t know the name yet, nor were they given the chance to do more than say why they were there. He had gotten as far as saying he was from the United Military before the people welcoming them scurried off to get someone else.
He busied himself by inspecting the buildings leading up to the AEC, some being a respectable three floors. Newer constructions seemed to differ in method, the beams a charred ashen colour rather than the same odd silver wood. Why they had elected to burn the materials, he didn’t know, but it seemed to be what they decided to do.
A surprising amount of the population carried a curved stick over their shoulder, the ends tied together by a string. Some attached lengths of a similar material to their leathers, one end made with a small loop as it dangled. The catch they carried to what looked to be a hunter’s lodge suggested it was used during their hunting, but he couldn’t fathom how.
Dragging his attention from the crowd, he eyed the large shuttle.
The massive main doors looked to have been damaged, though a structure had been attached since, leaving the stuck-open entrance to seem less like the result of a hard landing. The gentle hum of the internal power generation was absent, the required energy for what was still working being drawn from large solar panels that had been installed into skylights in the ceiling. The cloud-laden weather dimmed the light that illuminated the inside, but it was serviceable enough. Whatever power was produced, it was being funnelled somewhere that wasn’t servicing the majority of the craft.
Wide halls were populated by Lilhuns and spotted with doorways, the majority propped open since they were programmed to shut in the event of a power outage, lest explosive decompression eject whomever was occupying the room—along with anyone nearby in the hallway, should they be so unlucky.
It was customized, that much was obvious. Several rooms that would have been sparsely populated with anything other than beds were instead modified into training rooms and gyms. Densely packed barracks contrasted against large storage areas filled with various goods, pelts and metal weapons lining various shelves. Newer accommodations had been installed for more of those curved staffs, smaller pointed sticks stacked in piles nearby.
They progressed deeper and deeper into the confines of the shuttle, the common sight of the local pack trickling away, none seeming to have business this far in. Gruffer and more observant Lilhuns became the only people they saw while the hallways narrowed into tighter quarters, what might have fit cargo vehicles now only allowing a few shoulder widths, doorways becoming less common. The wary eyes and darkened clothing paired with the occasional dyed fur of those they passed—black seeming to be the dominant colour.
“In here,” an escort grunted, jabbing their jaw towards an isolated door. A paw was held out as they tried to step forward. “Weapons.”
Tech’s paw twitched towards one of her CARDs, the act of Willin relinquishing his pistol and rifle stopping her from snapping it into rapid-fire and burning the air with plasma. She glared at him for a few seconds before doing the same, the escort smirking.
“You will have them returned. The Grand Hunter is not so desolate as to pilfer the possessions of those who come merely to speak.”
He wasn’t worried about it. The guns were coded to them and Tech could fry them if it came down to it. Well, he wasn’t sure if she could do it with the warp-spike messing with things, but the lock should be enough. The knife in his boot went unnoticed, so it wasn’t like he was completely unarmed anyway.
Tech followed suit, subtly glaring at him the whole time. He shrugged, there wasn’t much they could do about it. They were the ones seeking an audience with the most influential person here.
Satisfied, the escort pulled the door open, the quiet whirring of the unpowered servos accenting the air. They revealed a larger office adorned with little but the most base necessity, a wood and steel desk covered in papers, a chair seeming to be the only extravagant item within—though it was purely for the ergonomics, rather than any aesthetic reason—and the male sat upon it was leafing through a collection of documents while twirling an orange needle-like object in his paw.
The distinct lack of any guards to protect the Grand Hunter was surprising, but that took a back seat to the owner of the room.
Dark grey fur, a clouded eye that retained its sharpness, scars peeking beyond the confines of his leather clothing—the thick hides sporting metal scales sewn onto them. An ear flicked in their direction, the membrane cut at several points. He placed down his papers, leaning forward in his chair as he clasped his paws on the desk, a friendly smile donned that failed to convey anything but malice.
“Greetings, new ones,” the male offered in a cheery tone, the low rumble and gravelled texture of his voice carrying both humour and curiosity. He focused on Tech for a moment, his eyes narrowing over the affable expression before he regarded both of them equally. He gestured to the seating opposite of his desk some small distance away. Close enough to meet, yet far enough that it was made abundantly clear who was in charge.
Willin bowed his head politely, walking the distance and sitting where he was provided. Tech followed suit after a brief hesitation, her unfocused eyes snapping to him with frustration. His raised brow was met with a longer blink—her augments were reporting something that made no sense again.
“Now then,” the dark grey-furred male said, moving some of the documents on his desk to a stack. “What might bring you to me?”
“Forgive me, Grand Hunter…” Willin opened, prodding for a name.
The male simply maintained his attentive posture instead of providing. Willin adjusted his sleeve and decided it was more important to continue than dig for information that he could get by asking anyone who lived in the settlement.
“As for why we’re here; we represent the United Military, responding to a distress call. We have forwarded the request and were tasked with ascertaining the state of affairs before the fleets arrive to assist.”
The Grand Hunter nodded. “Yes, that much I could have surmised from your clothing alone.”
Tech raised a brow as the dark green-furred soldier forced a smile. “Of course. More specifically, we would like to speak with you about what you know of the others of your station, as well as discuss the reintegration of your pack.”
The smile of the grey-furred male widened. “You wish to make a deal?”
Tech’s gaze flickered to several points in the room, her brow furrowing as she jettisoned a huff in frustration. Willin took a moment to consider his plan of action, nodding when he didn’t see the harm.
“I believe we can come to an arrangement. Within reason, of course.”
The Grand Hunter chuckled as the needle he was playing with disappeared at a flick of his wrist. “Of course, of course. Deal, agreements, arrangements, contracts.” The emphasis on the final item tickled something in the back of Willin’s mind. “Itemize it. What do you seek of me? It is rather disorganized to ask without quantifying, no? So…messy.”
“We want information on the other packs. Who leads them, number of members, where their settlements are,” Tech stated tersely, ignoring the disapproving glance Willin gave. “We also need to work on integrating those packs back into the UM—preferably with yourself setting precedent.”
The male’s face grew thoughtful. “As well as forgiveness, though that will cost quite the amount.”
Willin frowned. “Forgiveness? For not knowing your name?”
The Grand Hunter returned a blank stare, a dangerous grin spreading slowly. “Tell me, new ones, do you know of Avalon?”
Tech’s face hardened, her answer slow and cautious. “We do, though only through description.”
The male’s voice fell low. Quiet, yet powerful. His elbows on the table suddenly felt like a far greater threat than any armament. “Do you know the debt your superiors have incurred?”
“I don’t believe we have even had the chance to introduce ourselves,” Willin interjected, noticing Tech’s discomfort, her eyes darting around the room nervously.
“You need not,” the Grand Hunter remarked smugly. “You are forbidden from giving your names, no? Locked behind titles of station, merged and scattered at the whims of your masters. Soldiers who do not exist, yet sit within my office.”
Tech pawed for a CARD, forgetting that she had been disarmed at the door. Willin felt the weight of his knife pull on his boot. The male chuckled as he leaned back in his chair.
“But, given that you did not flee, I will give the benefit of the doubt regarding the debt. Though, it will make offering you more than your lives difficult.”
“What debt?” Willin pressed, receiving a flippant wave of the male’s paw.
“It matters not. I have more pressing matters than hearing why I should join the ranks of that which I supersede.”
“Matters such as?”
The Grand Hunter raised a brow. “You are being given the opportunity to leave whole, new one. I advise you to accept.”
Willin shook his head, ignoring Tech’s pointed look. “We need information. From the message we received, not everyone is as well off as you, and we intend to amend that. What can we trade for it?”
The male clasped his paws over his stomach, passively humouring them. “What do you offer? You may seek the details of the others, but I am not inclined to merely supply it.”
“Supplies, priority cooperation when the UM arrives.”
A chortle sounded out. “We are self sufficient. Such matters little.”
“Is there anything you would want?”
The Grand Hunter smirked, placing a paw on the table as the other produced another needle—this one a more yellow hue, the specifics of its shape blurring as it spun between his claws. “Your superiors asked me a favour. Data. How far could they push the Lilhun body before ligaments broke, the mind following shortly after? How twisted can we shape the psyche of kits?”
The temperature of the room seemed to chill, a twitch of the male’s lips pulling his muzzle into a slight snarl.
“They sought my kit to participate, after a time. Unfortunately, her will aligned—despite my reservations. In return, she would be wiped from the records. Ephemeral, never having existed to begin with. Never suffering the whims of those who became drunk on sending my Blades to their end, never finding their other.” The gravel to his voice turned to broken glass. “Yet your betters violated the agreement. Broke the contract. They pulled her into your service, hid the fact from me, and had the gall to fabricate a story to coincide. Were it not for a particular series of favours I was owed, I would have been still planet-side in our system instead of here.”
The dark grey-furred male smirked, his demeanour relaxing. “It seems she has found what she sought. Without need for my meddling, at that. A shame, really. I had several competent males selected—those who could wield what she had become. Those who might give her what her blood-mother failed to gain.” He paused for a moment, a fraction of longing piercing through the scarred exterior. “Regardless, all I would have wanted has been gained. She is content, and I am crafting that which shall accept her when she is ready. Your military will only muddy that which I have achieved, were they to dig their claws into my work.”
“Their actions are separate from ours,” Willin countered, thankful that the impending conflict had seemingly resolved itself.
“Grand Hunter,” Tech addressed the male, an eye flicking to the ceiling for a fraction. “We were able to see that there are a fair number of settlements, but we need the information to do our job.”
“And your task would interfere with my own,” the grey-furred male reiterated, a polite—if bored—expression returned.
“What if we could ensure that it didn’t?”
The disinterest in the male’s eyes slipped into curiosity. “You seek to trade sovereignty for information? You hold such power?”
“We do,” Willin confirmed, surprised that Tech would offer. “Though you would be disregarding the support of the United Military, we could arrange an agreement of territory on this planet. It’s not as if we could populate the entirety of it within several of our lifetimes anyway.”
The Grand Hunter stared, each moment more uncomfortable than the last. Eventually, he smirked. “Information and the disregarding of the sins your betters inflicted upon me, for sovereignty…and a singular favour.”
“Favour?”
“Indeed,” he replied confidently, reaching into his desk to produce writing implements and paper. “You see, my kit has pledged herself to someone of curiosity. I thought him worthless. Weak. Yet he has performed a duty befitting her Sheath, and I suppose I should reward it.”
Scribbling ceased, impeccable penmanship crafting a contract that was slid forward on the tabletop. He continued after gesturing for Willin to approach.
“Seek him last, give him what information you have gathered, then heed his request,” the male said through his smirk. “I do so look forward to seeing what becomes of it.”
The dark green-furred male perused the document, stipulations and all finely articulated, as if the Grand Hunter lived and breathed transaction. A few points needed to be addressed, mostly possible abuse cases within the fine print, but it was surprisingly fair. There was some worry about the otherwise excessive cost of breaking the contract, but Willin figured that it would be reasonable enough considering the circumstances.
Signing, he gestured Tech to do the same as a witness, the two of them representing the UM for all intents and purposes. It was hardly the first time they had made agreements like this, though trading such a large area on a planet they held no prior influence on was a first.
The Grand Hunter confirmed the terms and conditions with them one last time, smiling when they both nodded.
“Good! Now, for what you seek.” The male rummaged through a few drawers, producing a series of papers that were lined over the desk towards them. “The non-aggression treaty, as well as what my Blades have observed from their scouting.”
Willin read over each, the documents sorted by Grand Hunter, then by who they had under them. His brow raised at a few reports, but questions could wait. The male seemed happy to let them read, so he wanted to take advantage of it. Tech scanned over everything when Willin was done, her augments allowing her to commit the information to a digital memory for future reference back on the ship.
“There are quite a few names marked with this,” Tech noted aloud, pointing to a symbol next to several of the Grand Hunters and their extended packs. The grey-furred male nodded.
“Those have been eliminated or subsumed.”
Willin frowned, parsing the documents again. Mi’low, Toril, and a few others were designated as such. Looking through, only about four seemed to be free of the distinction. He looked questioningly to the male, a grin returned with a separate stack of paper, titled with a single name.
Hasen.
The notation was rather dense, though not in information that Willin was expecting. Instead of settlements or High and Low Hunters, it was laden with mentions of those belonging to the previously marked Grand Hunters. His eyes widened as he connected the dots.
“Hasen is trying to be a Master Hunter.”
“Correct,” the male confirmed cheerily. “He is integrating other packs into his command and eliminating those who refuse. It has become quite an issue as of late.”
Though Grand Hunters could be assigned the moniker by owning territory and a willing pack—assuming they have the force required to defend it—a Master Hunter must own magnitudes more. It was typically achieved by integrating Grand Hunter packs and their subservients through mutual benefit, but taking it by force was a lesser used method.
Given that he had already either taken or purged several, it wouldn’t be a stretch of the imagination to assume he would press it to include here.
Willin heard Tech curse under her breath, their promise of sovereignty obligating them to interfere. To allow a member of the military—stranded or not—free action against the grey-furred male’s territory would be the same as endorsing it, now that they were aware. It would be hostility by the UM in all but name, and the consequences that had seemed somewhat extreme before now hung over their heads like an executioner’s axe.
A dark, deep chuckle broke the two of them out of thought. “Contracts, new ones,” the Grand Hunter started, a cold Void pooling in his eyes, “are not to be thought trivial. Do not break them.”
“It was a trap,” Tech snarled, jabbing a claw at the report in her paw. “You set us up.”
“Did I?” the male asked innocently. “You offered self-governance, non-interference, and non-aggression.”
“You withheld information!”
The Grand Hunter smiled, a shiver sent down Willin’s spine. “You agreed without doing proper research.”
Willin held a paw out to stop Tech from storming the male. “The contract is signed, Tech.”
“It’s invalid!” she snarled at him, receiving a cold look in return.
“Do you want to be the one to tell command that we allowed damn near genocide of a crew we were here to assist, just because we were too stubborn to adhere to an agreement?” he countered calmly. “This ‘Hasen’ is wiping almost a year's worth of survival, botanical, and every other specialized knowledge gained, just because he wants to control a section of a planet. This doesn’t change anything, it just means we know what we’re going into.”
“I like him,” the Grand Hunter opined with a grin. “He sees the value that my proposition offers.”
“What’s stopping us from just tearing up the contract right now and leaving you to your fate?” Tech barked.
“Your companions in your craft—quite the ship, might I add—would be a notable starting point.”
The two of them paused, eyes widened. The dark grey-furred male laughed again.
“Your proximity sensor has been reporting since you landed, no?” he asked, pointing to the equipment on Tech’s harness. “It must have been rather vexing, yes? Is it the warp-spike? Is it some army of the unknown? The uncertainty of never confirming what it tells you. The whispers of doubt that follow.”
“I’m surprised you recognized what it was,” Willin replied with a level tone. He didn’t like where this was going. The male offered a smile.
“Wildlife here is especially elusive. Skittish. Ceasing all motion while predators are near and silencing themselves.” Tech and Willin exchanged a glance as the male waved a paw dismissively. “It makes for rather intensive training for my Blades. To hunt without disturbing them. My kit was a natural in such regard, but others have slowly approached such a threshold.”
He folded his paws on the desk. “Your ship is currently being observed by them now, weaponry trained on the defences you thought so adequate. Surely you noticed the lack of guns, yes?”
“The distress message mentioned the lack of them was due to how urgent evacuation was,” Willin added cautiously.
“Yes, quite. I made sure to lock the armouries after taking enough to establish my power,” the male confirmed with a half-shrug. “Among those were rifles not dissimilar to the rifle that the purple one there brought with her.” He leaned back in his chair. “Sufficient to pierce the hull and whoever occupies the space behind it, no?”
Tech’s eyes unfocused, snapping to Willin with a fear behind them. The Grand Hunter spun his quill, unconcerned by the events.
“Your short-wave has been temporarily disabled. You can not warn them.”
“Threatening us to compliance?” Willin asked without emotion to his tone. He needed to keep things from escalating.
“Ensuring you understand the consequences of your actions,” the male replied plainly. “When one barters with Avalon, know that breaching such is grounds for death. Of you, and whoever I need to send with you.”
“They didn’t sign this,” Tech argued, kept in line by Willin’s demeanour.
“But you did,” the Grand Hunter returned coldly. “Honour your signature, or regret such in the Void.”
Tech took an enraged step forward, stopped when her throat pressed against a dagger that was slipped in from behind. Willin felt the pressure of a knife to his own.
“Patience, new ones.”
“You took advantage of the interference to sneak assassins into the room?” Willin noted.
“No, my Blades were always here,” the male refuted lazily, nodding at Tech. “She noticed, but was unable to trust what her equipment told her.” He chortled for a moment. “Quite the annoyance, proximity sensors. I feel rather blessed to have the warp-spike rendering them little more than meaningless noise.”
“So this is it? You kill us now, our friends when they refuse to cooperate, then steal what we brought?”
The pressure on his neck faded with a wave of the male’s paw, the assassins being nowhere to be seen.
“Of course not!” the Grand Hunter exclaimed, his voice returning to its affable cadence. “You now know how futile it is to go against me. Fear not, I see no merit in hindering you. As long as you honour your portion of the contract, I will honour mine. It is a certainty that Avalon was founded on.”
Tech rubbed her neck, glancing questioningly at Willin. He gave the male a wary glance, but closed his eyes to concede. They were just going to get everyone killed if they tried to back out of something they had already agreed to.
“Then we have come to an understanding,” the dark grey-furred male announced happily. “As a show of faith, do you have any questions where I might provide clarity?”
The two soldiers glanced at each other, Tech begrudgingly giving Willin the floor. He gestured to the smallest stack of papers. “Who is this? There’s next to nothing about him. Are you withholding information against your contract?”
The Grand Hunter smirked. “That, new ones, is all I could gather from my Blades.”
“You have Lilhuns disappearing in the room a moment after holding a knife to our throats, and they couldn’t scout a settlement?”
“Isn’t it interesting?”
“Enthralling,” Tech commented dryly. The male tapped a claw against his head.
“Think, new ones. What might render my Blades little more than a mild inconvenience?”
Willin’s eyes narrowed. “Other Blades? Better Blades?”
The dark grey-furred male held an expectant smile. “None have been seen, save for my kit.”
“Your kit’s mate is the Grand Hunter? I don’t see one Blade deterring this many,” he admitted, flicking through the pages. Overt, covert, and disguised. None got very far.
“Thus why I believe the male is owed a favour,” the Grand Hunter explained. “I gave them four Blades as a gift. They have become more.” A predatory look of elation cracked through the veneer. “There exists no better Sheath than a Blademaster. Let alone one who surpasses my methods. If she is to succeed me, I would rather no other to accompany her.”
“Says here that he’s an alien,” Willin noted aloud, trying not to voice his surprise. “I’m skeptical.”
“Oh, please do be. It will make hearing about what he asks of you that much more amusing.”
“Any ideas what he might look for from us?” Tech spat, still irritated.
“Oh, I might have an idea,” the male answered cryptically, sliding a small tablet of silver wood across the desk. Willin picked it up to inspect it, two foreign scripts scratched into the surface. With a questioning glance, the Grand Hunter nodded, Willin stashing the tablet into a pouch. “He seeks that which others might not, for reasons as foreign as he himself is. I have little doubt that something related to that trinket will be his wish.”
“Then why visit him last?” the purple-furred female pressed.
“Because it will influence his decision.”
“Which is enough reason for us,” Willin declared with a warning scowl at Tech. She held his gaze before looking away in annoyance.
“Then our meeting is finished,” the male announced, gesturing to the door. It opened, the whirring of servos giving way to the distant ambient chatter of the hallway. Two of the black leather-clad escorts entered the room and awaited them.
“Is there anything we should know that may have not made it to the report about him?” Willin asked before leaving, turning naught but an ear for the response.
The Grand Hunter hummed for a moment. “Do mind your manners surrounding his kit,” he offered. “Or do not, it matters little to me if you survive past honouring the agreement.”
Tech stopped at the doorway, glaring at the male as Willin exited. “We never did get your name.”
His brows raised in interest. “You saw my signature.”
“I would rather hear it from you,” she insisted coolly.
A toothy smile spread over the male’s muzzle. “Grand Hunter Trill; Blademaster of Avalon, Sire of Phantom, and—if I remember correctly—the Weighted Scale, Aspect of Balance.”
“’May he who barter with the Void fear its ire,’” she recited, conviction in her words.
“’Yet he who uphold bathes in its blessing,’ yes,” Grand Hunter Trill replied with a knowing look. “Consider it, new one. To be crushed under the obligations you fail to upkeep, or revel in that which you covet. Do be warned; though I let you and your party leave—” his eye gained a sharp edge. “You are never beyond my influence.”
“May the sun treat you well, Grand Hunter,” she replied tersely, spinning on her pad to leave. Willin glanced back as he waited for her to pass him, seeing nothing but the door closing behind her.
Their weapons were returned, each in the same state as they were confiscated, save for a familiar knife. He scowled as he shifted his footing to reveal that the comforting weight had been removed from his boot. He begrudgingly accepted the blade, tucking it back into the sheath as the Lilhun smirked at him, his mirth at the dark green-furred male’s displeasure evident.
They were escorted out of the shuttle, a pause afforded long enough for Willin to flick up his hood before they continued to the outermost edge of the settlement. As soon as they were outside of the fence, their escorts turned and quickly faded into the buildings.
A crackle came over the headset.
“Leader! Tech! We thought something may have happened,” Comms shouted into the earpiece, genuine worry coating his words.
“Were you unsuccessful?” Nav added, the sound of a small distance between speaker and microphone suggesting they were sharing.
Willin adjusted the strap of his rifle and started walking, Tech following after a lingering glance at the settlement. “We got what we came for, but it might have cost us.”
“It was simply a meeting, no?” Comms asked to clarify.
“If you can call being strung along by an Aspect ‘simple,’ then yes,” Tech growled.
“Aspect?”
“Balance,” Willin provided through a sigh. “Weighted Scale.”
“Receive your heart’s desire at a heavy sacrifice,” Nav commented after a moment, likely referencing something. “What did you give them?”
“Sovereignty and a favour to be paid out to another Grand Hunter.”
“That does not seem too unreasonable,” Comms voiced curiously.
“We’ll talk about it when we get back. I have a feeling that the hole was dug too deep to see the bottom quite yet.”
“There’s a battle brewing,” Tech notified the crew, adjusting her audio interface. For once, it was completely silent. “We got dragged into it.”
The short-wave fell silent.
“What do we do?” Comms questioned quietly, the crackle of the distortion pitching his voice slightly.
Willin snorted, exhaling slowly.
“We made a deal with Avalon, Comms. We honour the contract.”
Next
A/N: Folded and made a Patreon. You can do the thing there, but i don't have anything to offer. Gonna move the rare AI Gen character art to it though, since it's the best i can offer.

Callmehbob ring, large trainbow skirt, Og parasol, Og teddyzilla.
Nyp! :)

Please discuss anything relating to FedEx, GLS (or ParcelForce) here. Anything from your experience (positive or negative), questions regarding delivery wait times or delivery issues, and delivery damage images all belong in this megathread.
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Frequently Asked Questions

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Who will ship my Steam Deck?
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In North America (US/CA), this will be [FedEx](https://www.fedex.com/en-us/tracking.html). RMA's are also processed by [FedEx](https://www.fedex.com/en-us/tracking.html).
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Update for December 2022 via Valve:
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[FedEx delivers to \~80% of the US population on a Sunday.](https://www.fedex.com/en-us/shipping/saturday-and-sunday-delivery.html#Sunday)
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● The seven-story Origine apartment building in Quebec City, Canada was finished in 2017. It’s made from locally-sourced CLT and houses 42 units. The wood helps insulate the building, reducing heating and cooling costs.
● In Norway, the 14-story Mjøstårnet tower holds the record for the world’s tallest timber building. Completed in 2019, the 280-foot tower combines CLT with glulam beams and concrete. It shows how CLT can be used even for skyscrapers.
● New Zealand’s CLT “Pavilion” at the 2010 World Expo in Shanghai, China demonstrated the material’s sustainability and beauty. The pavilion was designed to be easily disassembled and the CLT panels were reused in other buildings after the Expo.
With CLT, the possibilities seem endless. This eco-friendly material can work for homes, mid-rise apartments, offices, schools and more. CLT produces a fraction of the carbon emissions of concrete and steel, so building with it is good for the planet. It’s also cost-competitive, fire-resistant, and provides an attractive wood esthetic.
As CLT continues to gain popularity around the world, we’ll likely see many more stunning and sustainable building projects that push the limits of what can be achieved with timber. The future of green architecture looks solid - literally.

The Future of CLT: Innovation and Advancements

The future of CLT design looks bright. As the material and building techniques become more widely adopted, CLT is poised to transform sustainable construction.

Cost Savings

As CLT production increases, costs are decreasing significantly. CLT panels are also faster to install than traditional materials, reducing labor costs and construction timelines. Some estimates indicate CLT can reduce total building costs by up to 25% compared to concrete. Lower costs mean CLT could be accessible to more commercial and residential projects.

New Innovations

CLT is an ideal material for innovative building designs. Curved walls, intricate facades, and open-concept spaces are all possible with CLT. Architects are experimenting with CLT to push the boundaries of sustainable design. Some new innovations include:
● Curved CLT: Thin layers of CLT can be bent and shaped into curves for walls and roofs. Curved CLT offers new esthetic possibilities for buildings.
● CLT Tubes: CLT tubes or arches are self-supporting structures made from curved CLT. They can span large distances without interior supports.
● CLT Doors and Windows: CLT panels can be precision cut to create doors, windows, and skylights. These custom pieces are seamlessly integrated into CLT builds.
● Modular CLT: CLT modules are pre-fabricated boxes or sections that can be assembled on-site. Modular CLT speeds up construction and allows for flexible, reconfigurable spaces.

Carbon Storage

As forests regrow, CLT panels continue to store carbon absorbed by the trees. It’s estimated 1 cubic meter of CLT can store up to 1 ton of CO2. Widespread use of CLT in buildings could significantly offset carbon emissions. Some countries offer carbon credits for CLT projects to promote its environmental benefits.
The future of sustainable building is here. CLT is a high-performance, eco-friendly material that enables innovative designs, cost efficiencies and carbon storage. As CLT becomes more advanced and affordable, it will transform how we construct spaces for living, working and learning. The possibilities for this wood wonder are endless!

Conclusion

So there you have it, the basics on cross laminated timber and why it should be on your radar. This innovative building material is poised to transform construction as we know it. Not only is it environmentally friendly, helping curb deforestation and reduce emissions, but it's also cost effective and design flexible.
CLT allows architects and builders to create stunning structures that push the envelope of modern architecture. As CLT gains mainstream popularity around the world, sustainable and affordable housing may become more accessible. The future is looking bright, and it's made of wood. What an exciting time to be part of the green building movement!