I have my Premiere set up so that shift+q highlights the effects tab and shift+w selects the find box, so I can find effects without moving my mouse and clicking. However the shift+q shortcut dissapears everytime I close the Premiere. Every other shortcut stays the same, this is the only one that makes itself default everytime I close the program. I tried binding it to other shortcuts, but it still resets everytime.
Any idea on what's going on?

https://technotoken.blogspot.com/2018/11/shell-sort-in-cc-algorithm-pseudocode.html
Shell sort is a highly efficient sorting algorithm and is based on insertion sort algorithm. This algorithm avoids large shifts as in case of insertion sort, if the smaller value is to the far right and has to be moved to the far left. Shell short is an improved and efficient version of Insertion Sort rather while compared with other Sorting Techniques like Merge Sort , Bubble Sort and Selection Sort which we have already discussed earlier. In this algorithm we sort the pair of elements that are far apart by gap h. The process is repeated by reducing h until it becomes 1. This algorithm uses insertion sort on a widely spread elements, first to sort them and then sorts the less widely spaced elements.

Forklifts are helpful in many industries, especially in the transport of materials. It can also be efficient to lift, lower or remove large or smaller items on pallets, boxes, or other containers, and sometimes with great caution and good safety practices, however, people.
The trained and certified operators should handle forklifts! The first and most important rule to follow with forklifts is training! Many injuries to operators and their co-workers occurred because the forklift user was not an expert in the specific model and type of forklift he was using.

One aspect of forklift training is training for forklift operators to complete a daily forklift inspection.

The truck operator must inspect the truck daily before using it. The inspection can occur after each shift if the forklifts are overuse on-site, full time.
The inspection of the truck must include a visual inspection and an operational check. First, the operator must visually inspect the forklift and fill in the checklist. Then, after the visual inspection, the operator must perform an operational inspection to ensure everything is working safely. The inspector must complete and record the forklift checklist as required by the company. And inspectors should report immediately any problems they identified during the inspection to a supervisor.
Certified inspectors must document forklift inspections to demonstrate that the standard is achievable. And forklift checklists must be kept for some time by the specified company policy as a reason for the checklists to be returned, including when a forklift accident.

Your forklift checklist should guide you through what you need to see and what you need to check-in traffic.

However, OSHA has no standards or requirements that specify which items are essential on the checklist so that you can use the checklist your company desires.
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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.

title is clickbait.
this is less of a whiny copypasta (but you can use it as such if it does become stupid) and more of an attempt at walking through my experiences and hoping to keep an open mind about whether or not continuing the series would be worth it.
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Warning: my writing tends to be more or less an incoherent mess as I jump around and write what I think of off the top of my head.
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I read the manga up to the current chapter and at the end was left in a pretty negative vibe and hesitant on whether i'd enjoy the rest of the anime and LN if I invested time into it.
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Prologue:
I was browsing youtube and the scene with Zanac discussion and beheading came up. I tend to care less about major plot points getting spoiled and will usually read through summaries of things in advance. I value twists/big plot points less than how well they are executed. Interesting enough so I decided to read the manga. I chose manga over anime/LN because 20 minutes per episode usually doesnt slot well and LN requires more mental imagination of things.
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The Manga:
Gonna break down my reactions based on first time reading them

The Undead King Arc

Yup pretty chill intro, we get to see some of the basic things going down w Momonga, e.g. friendship, his relation to the guardians, his [guild's] cool crib, his overpowered abilities. Off to a start with Momonga helping the village and giving free items.
Nice villain premise seems solid
Guardians deciding to go for world domination interesting.
My expectations for the story based on this arc: "Ainz will become the anti hero who fights evil with killing so at least it isnt shit ass talk no jutsu I guess"

The Dark Warrior Arc

Momonga does some basic isekai/adventurer shit. Seems legit I guess.
First taste of good guys dying brutally. Corpses get defiled not cool.
My expectations for the story based on this arc is same as above really, good guy who isnt above killing.

The Bloody Valkyrie Arc

Ainz realizes there are people with power. Possible challenge? Ainz might have to exert some effort?
My expectations for story are same as above + seek revenge on the strong NPCs motivation, gonna fight a lot of mini enemies before reaching top of organization.

The Lizard Man Heroes Arc

I skim/read really fast but yeah the "Biped Sheep" went over my head as much as it did Ainz's. Honestly the giveaway should've been the lack of wool mentions and just directly talking about skin w/o stuff like meat or innards since it would make sense to make use of all parts of a sheep.
Lizardmen sex haha funny.
First taste of real evil brutality and it was underwhelming tbh.
At this point I kinda expected at least Zaryushu to be revived and Crusch to survive because they had baby making. yeah just based on that. honestly i believe baby making > actual children in terms of plot armor.
Interesting/funny how Demiurge and Albedo guide Ainz's reasoning unintentionally.
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Overall, nice of Ainz to let Cocytus step up, sorta gives the parent teaching kid vibe.
Cocytus choosing to spare the Lizardmen of his own volition, showing that the guardians can act independently of Ainz and have their own personalities. I understood Cocytus's choice was out of honor rather than mercy.
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My expectations for the story based on this arc is will Demiurge notice that Ainz isnt really the super mega genius brain he is and manipulate Ainz into pushing his own goals (or just Nazarick's goals). Alternatively Demiurge instead of intentionally manipulating, simply subconsciously manipulates.

The Men in the Kingdom Arc

Meeting the other guys.
Sebas being a good person baited me into thinking that Nazarick would really be nice guys after all. After finishing the manga I feel like Ainz's compassion for the sister thing was too much of an asspull. In order to justify keeping that girl alive they had to make her related. Because otherwise there was no way Ainz would've had any reason to keep her alive. It doesnt seem like she appears later so she more so functions as a bait to keep the reader thinking that they're really good people after all (in the manga).
Demiurge being Demiurge I guess, absolute murder happy feller.
My expectations for the story based on this arc is above + will the guardians become nicer + Ainz will continue pushing a hero persona while instigating the villainy himself. Evil yes but it'd be interesting to watch him be a fake good guy.

The Invaders of the Large Tomb Arc

He said they would die so I expected them to die. They died.
I honestly put 0 value into anime waifus. None whatsoever. Arche sad backstory? Yeah cool but I already knew she wouldn't be an exception so she died. The End.
Honestly? I got the kick out of watching the guardians exert their skills or personality to handle intruders.
The only slight nagging I had at the back of my brain was "Is Momonga going to do anything (is Ainz going to let them go to keep Momonga's identity intact)". I honestly dont know what was up with this line of reasoning but it was still sorta "Ainz is still technically good" copium. Turns out I didnt need to worry about Momonga identity at all because it gets buried and nobody ever really thinks about or brings it up again since he decides to go into Sorcerer King mode.
My expectations for the story based on this arc: "Ainz will kill people to 'protect' Nazarin from shit like looters/adventurers who dare trespass"

The Two Leaders Arc

Woah check out the side characters. Remember these guys Ainz helped? They're doing normal stuff and just trying to chill but get jumped by monsters!
Ainz decides to kill some more high end monsters! yippee!
My expectations for the story based on this arc same as before

The Magic Caster of Destruction Arc

bro killed 70k real people just to summon some murder monsters to kill even more. yeah honestly, what's the point i cant fuck with this anymore.
even though I didnt expect anyone to survive its still not a fun thing to just watch everyone get murdered.
My expectations for the story based on this arc: "Ainz will just kill almost everyone i guess and then enslave the rest"
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Epilogue:
After hitting the chapter 76 (last chapter I could find), I just felt subdued disappointment.
I dosed partial copium in two aspects

1. It's still a "game". Yes I know its another world but there are constant reminders that everyone else is an NPC, MC is looking for players, etc etc. The New World might as well still be the video game and MC is killing everyone simply because they aren't real people.
2. Undead = less morality. I would say the isekai shifted his personality though we dont see much of it in the manga. There's no way this guy would've passed any sort of mental health test. Then again its a dystopian future so they might not even have enough funds for mental health check.

Yeah I definitely did the seething and coping but I just decided that eh whatever it just isn't worth pushing manga/LN for if this is the series going forward. It felt like a shift from the first two arcs for sure.
Copying the names for the arcs it turns out the part where Ainz announces his utopia thing is right after it, which might've changed my mind on continuing the manga.
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Then I went on reddit

Browsing the Hot Posts

some good memes, not too much to talk about tbh

Searching for "evil"

Seeing some diverse opinions that were all pretty well received
"He is evil"
"He is just benefitting Nazarick at the expense of everyone else"
"He is justice/based"
I get last ones a meme and I'm honestly with number 2/3 combined ones where they acknowledge from a general moral compass perspective it is evil but his intentions are to further Nazarick.

Searching for "redo"

I'll admit, this was just kinda copium trying to find hypocrisy where there is none. I barely touched redo, looked at a few chapters, its just hentai with adventurer element trying to do a story. Still came up in my mind since I wanted to compare the "blatantly villain guys"
Specifically wanted to see the subset of fans that dunk on redo for rape specifically (rather than shitty story/hentai) and mentally calling them out for being okay with genocide but not rape.
I did see someone who mentioned how certain animes trigger them because of violence/sexual violence but Overlord is fine since its from Ainz's perspective but that's honestly acceptable and isnt a real good indicator of hypocrisy since PTSD can manifest differently.

Searching for "tanya"

I actually never read tanya but I already mentally had a dislike of the thing because of the "child hitler" thing. Yes yes imperial germany but the whole child conducting war crimes premise was not a great hook for me.
Turns out overlord and tanya are homies and thats just great i guess. Mass murderers rise up.

Searching for "arche"

Yup I agree with the common sentiment "Arche simps are cringe. Backstory =/= survivable". Gonna pat myself on the back for being so uncringe.

Searching for "arche sisters"

On this I regained strong feelings.
I would've been completely fine if it was "le salt mines". I would've been fine if they died in an orphanage fire. I would've been fine if Ainz just teleported, time stopped and killed them w one touch insta kill.
But really...
really?
as forgone as it was in terms of dark world + no other forms of child labor, I cant for the life of me imagine 5 year old children in that kinda situation ever and people casually joking about it. Given the non zero amount of fans who joke about it and the non zero amount of fans who enjoy the Overlord genocides there is definitely a non zero number of fans who got off on that. I would also argue there's definitely a difference between 5 and 10. Specifically, school starting at 6 years old (in modern societies technically). If the author chose 10, maybe less fucked up idk since they'd have awareness. Man could've chosen 1 year old and had the parents sell their baby children and it wouldn't have been that fucked up.
Idk how new fans would process this information while being called degenerates for simping Arche by the same people who joke about this.
I guess I'll keep snorting the "they died mercifully" copium instead of the alternative.
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Overall reasons for disliking

1. Manga format.Honestly I should've read the LN because the manga is both behind anime and still kinda graphic in presentation. Also cuts some details compared to the LN format. LN allows the reader to tone up/down their mental images and allows some readers to just read w/o imagining at all.
2. Switches up goals/personalities way too quickA lot of the early stuff feels like isekai bait. Switches from hero to world domination really fast. Momonga personality dropped and gone. Idk how much smoother the transition is in the LN compared to the manga
3. Arche's sisters too fucked up
4. Horny/sexualization out of place. Straw that broke the camel's back for me. Honestly the whole dark humor story didn't need horny tacked on. It feels grossly out of place to read Albedo thirsting over Ainz and then Ainz murdering everyone. If I'm being honest I've never enjoyed horny in manga where story isnt about horny. Curious how Albedo's body pillow never got brought up after he murdered all the trespassers... edit: taking this even further, i think the idea of best girls in this is silly. Ainz has 0 sex drive or romantic motivation and shipping any of the characters to Ainz seems futile. well shippers gonna ship I guess. edit: changed to out of place because yes I agree the sexualization is less compared to other isekais.

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Everything aside, I've never really gotten into Isekai at all.
I read SAO once. once. pretty much killed all interest in isekai after that. and the sexualization is not my jam.
I've guilty pleasured some power of friendship stuff like MHA but that's never been my bread and butter.
Honestly might've moved past shonen as a whole.
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Two of my favorite mangas are Moriarty the Patriot (anti-hero, alternative history of Moriarty but from a sympathetic perspective. Commits murder for a goal, willing to sacrifice self to better country) and Ya Boy Kongming (Alternative version of famous chinese strategist Kongming, uses his military strategies to help singer succeed in market)
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Maybe the real issue is that I dont like isekai. I'd love to hear any armchair psychologist thoughts you guys might have and some refutations to any shit points I made.
I'm willing to give LN another shot but I want to hear some rebuttals or agree/disagree on opinions stated
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tl;dr
overlord kills way too many people that i wish he'd just instant kill 80% and just slave the rest, no point in getting interested in characters outside of nazarick because they'll just get dumpstered.
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edit: I understand that there are people with WCI and therefore its still important for him to be conscious of that. I retract that part and apologize for not considering that.

Ah, Eurovision season. The time of hype, music, unity – and a shit ton of drama. This year’s winner is maybe one of the most controversial we’ve ever had, and that’s saying something considering we've had broadcasters straight up end a broadcast because they didn't like the winner (don't ask).
But I’m getting ahead of myself. Let’s start from the basics:

What is Eurovision?

Eurovision (or ESC) is an annual song contest originating from Europe, organized by the European Broadcasting Union (EBU). It’s been held without fail since 1951 aside from 2020, when it was cancelled for truly mysterious reasons. (COVID, guys, it was COVID). Originally incorporating only European countries, the contest has grown in its scope since its early days, nowadays having almost 40 countries participating (including some decisively non-European countries like Israel and Australia) and reaching a viewership of 150+ million, making it measure up to live events the likes of Super Bowl.
The concept of the competition is simple: each country sends one original song to compete. Aside from the biggest sponsors of the contest (UK, Spain, Italy, Germany and France) and the winner of the previous year (Ukraine in ESC 2023) each entry participates in a semi-final, from which 20 countries are selected to advance to the final via voting. The winner of the competition is the act that gets the most votes in the final, who then gets the right to host next year’s contest and enjoy the tourism money. This year, UK took over the hosting duties from Ukraine for reasons (the war, guys, it was the war).
The voting system is important to understand for context: each country gives two sets of points, both equal in value and weight. Points are given to the top 10 entries, 10th getting 1 point, 9th two points and so on. Third place gets 8 points, second place gets 10 points and first place gets 12 points to make the top two positions more valuable. The two sets of votes come from professional juries and the televote. Countries can’t vote for their own entry, naturally.
Juries are 4-5 member teams consisting of music professionals (artists, producers, managers, vocal coaches, music reporters, radio DJs, choreographers etc.) who appraise each entry based on the following criteria:

• Composition and originality of the song
• Performance on stage
• Vocal capacity of artist(s)
• Overall impression of the act

Televotes are collected by having viewers vote via the official Eurovision app, or by calling/texting. A person/device can give a maximum of 20 votes and each vote costs money, the amount depending on each individual country, but it usually hovers somewhere around 1€/vote. Yes, I blew 20€ on the grand final. Yes, I blew another 20€ on the semifinal I was allowed to vote in (there are two semifinals and you can only vote in the semi your country’s in).
This year's Grand Final was held on May 13, but things start happening way before that. Each Eurovision season typically starts with countries selecting their representatives. Some use internal selection (as in, broadcasters decide who goes all by themselves) but most host national finals, competitions where the winner is granted the golden ticket to Eurovision. These national finals are keenly followed by eurofans (passionate fans of Eurovision).

Ready Player One: UMK 2023 and the Launch of the Dark Horse

In January 2023, UMK, the Finnish national final for Eurovision, started revealing its finalists. Seven finalists were announced, and their songs were released one by one on a once-a-day schedule. Finland’s journey in Eurovision has historically been poor, having only managed to secure one win (granted, there are many who have never won) and often finishing on the back end of the results.
Since 2020, however, UMK went under new management and did what was pretty much a 180: in a few years, it became one of the highest quality national finals around, and because of that, many eyes were on Finland when UMK started. The overall quality of songs in 2023 was very good, but one emerged as a clear frontrunner.
Käärijä, a Finnish rapper who was virtually unknown even in his home country, entered the competition, as the kids say, guns ablaze and mad as hell. His song Cha Cha Cha, a rap/metal/techno fusion song that does a complete tonal and genre shift halfway through, immediately became the fan favourite to win. When the time came, Käärijä absolutely landslided the national final, getting more points than the three runners up put together.
Hopeful buzz started amongst the eurofans; would this finally be Finland’s time after seventeen years (Finland’s last and only win was in 2006)? Finland is by means not the most beloved country in Eurovision, but many see it as an underdog that’s finally catching up to speed. Many wanted it to do well. Some were cautiously optimistic.
That was, until Sweden entered the competition, as the kids say, guns ablaze and mad as hell.

Ready Player Two: Melodifestivalen 2023 and the Awakening of the Sleeping Giant

Sweden, by all possible metrics, is one of, if not THE most successful country in Eurovision history. Before 2023, they’ve raked in a massive six wins (second only to Ireland who has seven), two of which during the last 11 years alone and the last one as recently as 2015. Additionally, on years they don’t win, they place in the top 10 almost without fail. They have only failed to qualify from the semifinals once, and it was largely seen as a national disgrace.
Sweden takes Eurovision VERY seriously, and it shows in their results. Melodifestivalen, Sweden’s national selection, started gathering curious eyes even before it started, because rumours were murmuring of someone very remarkable returning on stage. These rumours turned out to be true.
It’s hard to overstate how iconic Loreen is to the Eurovision community. She won the competition back in 2012, with a song that’s widely regarded as the best winning song of all time. She’s beloved and for a good reason. Known as a passionate, skilful vocalist and a world-class performer, the moment her participation was confirmed, many considered Melodifestivalen 2023 a done deal.
It must be mentioned that Loreen did attempt to return to Eurovision once between her win in 2012 and entry in 2023, but failed to win Melodifestivalen. However, this year’s entry was not here to play. She entered with Tattoo, a pop epic crafted by some of the best songwriters Sweden has to offer, with a staging so impeccable it could pass for a music video.
Critics and audience alike were raving. She was back, more powerful than ever. Expectedly, she won Melodifestivalen and earned her place in the line-up of 2023. In the community, the buzz was immediate, but not all of it was positive.

Sweden and Eurovision: A Turbulent Relationship

I think it’s fair to say that Sweden is, for the lack of a better term, suffering from success. Lately, there has been a somewhat anti-Sweden mentality brewing in the community, stemming from a few key criticisms Sweden regularly gets

• Genre loyalty: Swedish entries generally all fall under the umbrella of “radio friendly pop”. They’re well composed, well produced but seemingly leave the fandom cold. “Generic”, “soulless” and “safe” are terms often thrown at Swedish entries
• Jury bias: For a while now, Sweden has done better with juries than the televote, the difference once notoriously being as massive as 220 points, or 2nd place (jury) vs 22nd (out of a possible 26) (by the public). That being said, it’s disingenuous to say the televote hates Sweden as they regularly rank in the top 10, but it’s hard to deny that their point tally routinely consists of more jury than televote points
• Same songwriters: Melodifestivalen has been quite frequently criticized for having a large chunk of its songs written by the same core group of ten-ish people. In Sweden’s defence, a country of 10 million does not have that many active songwriters, but it’s hard to deny it’s a striking detail. For instance, in this year’s final, Melodifestivalen didn’t have a single entry that didn’t have at least two of these songwriters credited

This has led to things souring between Sweden and eurofans. To sum it up concisely: many eurofans feel like Sweden never takes risks, sends ungenuine lab-crafted jury baits and is always rewarded for it no matter what the viewers do because the juries always have Sweden's back. There's a lot of intricacies that go into this and there's nuance to this criticism, but for the sake of keeping things concise, I won't go into them now, all you need to know is that this is something that's going on.

“I love Loreen, but…”

Because of this sentiment, while Loreen undoubtedly had her fans, a sizeable section of the fandom started being critical of her. People started negging. Her song was called generic and soulless, the fact it was written by a huge group of the “regulars” in Melodifestivalen was brought up. People said it was too similar to her 2012 winning song, a 2.0 or carbon copy if you will.
As soon as Loreen was announced as the Swedish representative, the competition took on a narrative of its own. It was widely seen as a race between Finland and Sweden. While Loreen definitely had her fans, the overall mentality was leaning more towards Käärijä. He was seen as the underdog from the country that has a winning chance once every 20 years, if that, going up against the Eurovision powerhouse Sweden who wins so often the fandom is getting tired of it.
That’s not to say no other entries were ever in the talks: Spain’s artsy fusion flamenco song was seen as a potential jury darling. France’s sassy chanson was seen as a potential sleeper hit. Norway’s TikTok viral Viking techno banger was seen as a potential televote magnet. Ukraine was still a big unknown given that the previous year, they had received the largest televote tally in the history of the competition and many thought sympathy votes would keep pouring in this year as well. And then there’s whatever the fuck Croatia was doing (okay, they never had a chance of winning, I just wanted any excuse to subjugate people to this chaos).
But the overall sentiment was heavily leaning towards this being a neighbour war between Finland and Sweden. As the press and pre-parties (fan arranged concerts where artists are invited to perform to get their first interactions with the fandom) started, eyes were undeniably on Loreen and Käärijä.
During his Eurovision journey, Käärijä became somewhat of a crowd darling and went moderately viral on TikTok. A little guy with a bowl cut and a thick accent who had quickly gotten the reputation of being both funny and extremely friendly, coming to the competition with an out of the box and blatantly flamboyant genre fusion banger, walking around in a green bolero with no shirt. It's hard not to feel endeared. (Not that Loreen was unfriendly or anything, she’s perfectly nice by all accounts, but her off-stage personality wasn’t as much of a focal point as it was for Käärijä who became so beloved he was locked in as an icon even before the competition began).
Finns, they, well… Rallied behind Käärijä like crazy. Their government officials sent tweets wishing him good luck. The state owned railway company dressed its statues as Käärijä. The Helsinki tram got a Käärijä makeover. Cha Cha Cha topped the Finnish charts for ages (and still does AFAIK). The Finnish press was going gaga, broadcasting how only Loreen stood in the way of Käärijä’s victory.

“Just Ignore Everyone”: The Main Event That Undeniably Shaved a Few Years Off Of Graham Norton’s Life Span

The main event came about at the Liverpool Arena. As expected, both Sweden and Finland qualified for the final (later revealed to have come second and first, respectively). As the grand final came about, what was supposed to be a fun event (ironically carrying the slogan “United by Music”) turned into a rather tense occasion. Sweden performed 9th whereas Finland performed 13th. Both of their performances went largely well.
During Finland’s performance, the crowd went so crazy some commentators even said the whole building was shaking. People shouted Cha Cha Cha at the top of their lungs. The audience was on his side. Not that Loreen’s performance was poorly received either, she clearly had a lot of friends at the arena, but Finland got the audience by the balls.
After all of the 26 acts were done performing, the time for vote announcements came. The structure of vote announcements goes as follows: first, each country gives their jury points one by one, their spokesperson saying out loud the country that got 12 points, the highest one possible. After that, the total televote points given by all countries are given to each act one by one starting from the country currently at the last position.
Very soon, it became obvious that the juries had taken an immense liking to Tattoo.
Loreen got 12 points after 12 points, and the atmosphere at the arena shifted. The audience got more and more agitated with each 12 points Sweden received, and cheered very loudly whenever Käärijä (who was expected to do significantly worse with the juries thanks to non-mainstream genre and his lesser singing abilities due to being a rapper first and foremost) got any points. It got to a point where they responded to Sweden getting 12 points by chanting Cha Cha Cha.
The hosts (Graham Norton and Hannah Waddingham) were getting visibly uncomfortable and had to calm the crowd more than once. Hannah Waddingham eventually gave the exasperated yet iconic one-liner “just ignore everyone” when the chanting wouldn’t calm down. In the end, Sweden was comfortably in 1st place, having raked in a massive and historic 340 points, almost double that of the runner up Israel (who got 177 jury points). Finland ranked 4th with the juries with a total tally of 150, nearly 200 points behind Loreen.
Once the time for televotes came, everyone’s eyes were on Finland. Käärijä was expected to do well, but no one could quite gauge how well he’d do. Turns out, very well. He raked in a massive 376 televote points, getting the full marks from 18/37 countries and not placing lower than 5th with any country. To put it in perspective, this is the 2nd highest televote score ever (by percentage of available points), the highest being Ukraine from the year prior, and the circumstances were quite unprecedented.
By then, it was obvious the two-horse race had become true. Loreen would need 189 points (roughly the 3th-4th place in televotes) to secure her win, a tally that wasn’t a walk in the park, but was very doable with her popularity.
The following sequence is still very bizarre to me. Loreen’s points were announced. She got 243 points, making her the televote runner up. Which in turn meant Käärijä had lost to her by about 50 points despite outdoing her televote score by 133 points. As the winner was announced, Käärijä buried his head in his hands, clearly devastated. Loreen was immediately guided back on stage for her winner’s reprisal.
Footage from backstage shows many contestants beelining for Käärijä to comfort him. They’re seen hugging him, chanting Cha Cha Cha like he’s the actual winner and trying to cheer him up. All the while, Käärijä himself was obviously heartbroken. The crowd wasn’t happy, to a point where when Loreen accepted the trophy, she asked if anyone even wants her to perform again.
While Loreen’s fans were ecstatic to see her win and perform again, a portion of the audience reportedly walked out, disappointed. That was the end of the main competition. Sweden had won its 7th Eurovision trophy, catching up to Ireland for most wins ever. Loreen had become the second person (and first woman) in history to win twice.
The fandom, while disappointed, quickly got over themselves and accepted the outcome- yeah no one’s buying this lmfao. The dust was up in the air and wouldn’t settle for a good while.

Let the Shit Slinging Begin: Conspiracy Theories, Petitions and the Media Fight

The outcome received immediate backlash. Loreen’s winning performance and grand final performance were mass downvoted on YouTube. Loreen’s victory post on Eurovision currently has 0 upvotes and over 6500 comments. Social media posts by Eurovision about Loreen were spammed by people proclaiming Käärijä was the real winner. Some contestants (namely Slovenia, Estonia and Serbia) outright said Käärijä was their winner. Finland’s grand final performance views also surpassed that of Sweden’s.
There was a lot of shit slinging. Conspiracies started rearing their heads. Some were convinced Sweden had rigged the jury in order to host Eurovision on the 50th anniversary of ABBA’s victory (yes, ABBA is Swedish, yes, they won Eurovision with Waterloo, no there’s no proof of this conspiracy). A petition was started to remove the juries and it reached 60 000 signatures in two days. Loreen was accused of plagiarizing at least two different songs (not that I personally think the accusations have any merit, the melody line is just incredibly common). The Norwegian delegation outright said the juries should be overhauled (Norway got screwed over massively by the juries, being placed 17th, only to be pulled to the 5th overall position by the televote).
When detailed televote results came out, it turned out Sweden had not placed 1st in a single country. It also had less 2nd places than Finland, and its average position was 5th (which coincidentally was the lowest score Käärijä got in any country). People were pissed. Some proclaimed spending money on voting is a waste of time if the 2nd highest televote score in history isn’t enough to win because a group of 200 or so people said so.
People started going through the jury credentials, soon discovering that they were overwhelmingly pop professionals (55% to be exact) while rock pros were nowhere to be seen (they made up 3.8% of the jury to be exact). To be fair, people weren’t only pissed for Finland, they were pissed for other entries that seemingly ticked all the boxes for the juries just to get a minimal result because Sweden vacuumed all the points like it was time for spring cleaning. (I feel like I must mention that a lot of televote magnet entries also flopped hard because Finland suckled up most of the televote points leaving the rest to fight for scraps.)
With the televote results also came a peculiar detail that kicked the drama between Sweden and Finland to a whole new sphere. Turns out, every country gave Sweden televote points, except one. Yep, you guessed it. Finland blanked Sweden, while Sweden’s televote gave Finland the full 12 points. (Finnish and Swedish juries gave each other 12 points.)
This was seen as unsportsmanlike and the Swedish media latched onto it. Think pieces started coming out. One infamous Swedish Eurovision podcast episode hosted by a Swedish newspaper consisted mostly of ranting about how Finland is a "country of idiots", how it's impossible Finns could genuinely have thought 10 other songs were better than Tattoo and how it was a testament to their lack of taste that they voted for Germany and not Sweden (Germany came in last, Finland was one of the only countries to give them points. Germany sent a metal entry so I’m not sure why this was a surprise, Finns LOVE metal).
Swedish newspapers also widely reported that the Finnish Eurovision commentator had told Finns not to vote for Sweden, furthermore adding fuel to the fire. This seems to mostly be lost in translation/a cultural miscommunication, the commentator in question read a joke out loud from the stream chat that essentially said “you’re allowed to vote tactically but not for your own country”, joking about the general elections held in Finland just months prior, where a lot of people voted tactically for the largest left-wing party to prevent the largest right-wing party from taking over. It didn’t work but "vote tactically" became a nation wide meme. Said commentator also simultaneously came under fire by Finns for stanning Loreen too much during his commentary. Man just can't win lmao
One Swedish newspaper article evoked strong backlash in Finland by referring to Finland as “östra rikshalvan” (“Eastern part of the Kingdom”, roughly translated) which was the term used for Finland when it still belonged to Sweden. Many Finns saw it as colonialist and like Sweden was implying they were entitled to their former vassal using their money to give them points. However, it’s difficult to deny this lack of points likely was tactical from Finland, given how they’ve given Sweden points every other year except this one. The Finnish media also did broadcast heavily that Loreen's win depends on the amount of televotes she gets compared to Käärijä, so it's not far-fetched at all that Finns were aware of it and voted for something else.
Finnish press wasn’t silent either. A widely publicized clip from a gossip radio show hosted by the teen targeted state-owned radio station Yle X3M heavily criticized Loreen’s entry, calling it “shit” and making a tasteless joke implying Loreen was on drugs the whole night thanks to her somewhat ethereal demeanour. One of the hosts also seemed convinced the results were rigged. Newspapers also eagerly reported about the plagiarism allegations against Tattoo, even if they never went as far as suggesting there’s any merit to them.
Perhaps the saddest part of this is the contestants themselves. Loreen and Käärijä both have consistently praised each other. They reportedly get along great and there are numerous clips of them hugging, laughing and joking around. Despite taking the loss heavily, Käärijä congratulated Loreen and emphasized he loves her and wishes her all the best from the very first interview he gave after his loss. (He did however say he feels like the jury system might need a reform.) Likewise, Loreen said in an interview that she wasn’t bothered by the crowd chanting Cha Cha Cha because she thinks Käärijä is awesome and authentic.
They’re still in contact and are planning to meet up for coffee when Loreen’s next in Helsinki. The abuse Loreen herself received reached downright disgusting proportions, crossing from general trashing to misogynistic and even racist territory (because of her Moroccan heritage). It got to a point where Käärijä had to address it on Finnish morning TV, emphasizing that the results are not her fault and that he feels horrible for her when people insult her because he knows her and knows she’s a lovely person. By all accounts, there’s no bad blood between them (or any contestants for that matter, this year was remarkably cordial).
So, where are we now? People have mostly calmed down (mostly) and accepted the results. Many still push for a jury reform, demanding larger juries with more diversity and knowledge of non-mainstream genres, a shift to a 60/40 voting split in favour of the televote, and many other things too numerous to list here. EBU has not addressed the controversy in any shape or form (and they likely won't), and we’ll likely have to wait until next year to find out if the jury system will be overhauled. Loreen and Käärijä fans are still bickering amongst each other but the general public seems to have moved on. Loreen is currently enjoying very good streaming numbers and chart placements across the world, and a record number of Eurovision entries are charting. Käärijä isn't doing half-bad either, being greeted by an airport full of supportive Finns upon his return and having skyrocketed to undeniable legendary status in the Finnish music scene.
Here’s to hoping Käärijä’s invited to perform at Eurovision 2024 as an interval act and regardless of jury reform (or lack thereof) people can bury this hatchet and Nordic unity can blossom once again. (Nordics get along great... Until one loses a competition to another, then it means war.)

I got really upsetting news today. I know I'll come to terms with it and fortunately it's not a loss or anything but I was not chosen to be the captain of my college sports team for next year. Not that many people ran and I really love my sport/my team and let myself get my hopes up. I felt so upset that I either wasn't voted for or wasn't selected (I'm partly consoling myself because the coaches in the past have ignored the vote to pick people before).
I cried so much and my appetite completely vanished. I've been recovered for 4 going on 5 years now and have faced much harder moments/losses in that time but I'm also starting a new job this week and everything feels so volatile right now in a way it hasn't in a while
I made myself eat dinner anyway, and my brain was screaming at me for how much I ate. But although it would be nice to numb my emotions by giving in to the ED, I've worked so hard to recover and be healthy for this sport that I loved and I'm really proud ultimately that I made the decision to not give in to the negative thoughts, even if it seems like it would make me feel better.
I have teammates on my team with past history of eating disorders and I'm pretending to myself that this can be a leadership moment (even if nobody knows it but me/this sub).
Feels weird using the celebration flair but I'm really trying to shift my mindset (both toward continuing to make the recovery-oriented choice and not staking my self-worth on this)

Time for more depression~~!
(I threw this together really quick)
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Memory Transcription Subject: Tarva, Governor of the Venlil Republic
Date [Standard Human Time]: October 29, 2136
I was so distraught… That’s all I have been… The humans final nail in the coffin was enough to shift the majority in their favor… 85% approval rating… 85%... There was a collective outcry across the planet for a shift… the shift in approach that favored the humans… one they deserved… and no one was taking no for an answer… Exterminators who were recorded being openly hostile to humanity were attacked and killed…
There was a collective guilt within the majority… and those that felt none for the fallen humans? Were killed…
Krakotl, Tilfish, Harchen, all those species that contributed to the extermination fleet, were slaughtered as if they were the Cattle to the Arxur…
Please… Great Protector… save me…
Who am I kidding?
…
No god would ever allow us to exist…
We abandoned people that needed us the most… people that wanted nothing more than peace… that wanted nothing more than our friendship… and we let them die….
Noah…
How I miss you my love… There aren’t enough tears I can cry to convey that…
Everyone on the Planet is in such shame with themselves… I can only imagine how it is on other allied planets… If they have a conscience they should be grieving as well…
The exchange program was dead… quite a few within the program joined the suicide after their partners abandoned them they same way we abandoned them… There were constand speeches and protests against the Navy… There was constant harassment that Kam faced… There were constant threats sent to Chelm for his disposition to Humans…
…
It was constant pain…
How could this ever get worse?!
____________________________________________________________________________
Memory Transcription Subject: Tarva, Governor of the Venlil Republic
Date [Standard Human Time]: October 30, 2136
____________________________________________________________________________
…………..
Welp?... It just got worse…
Those videos… They plague my mind… I can’t think straight…
I’m going to puke…
………….
Solvins right…
Unconditional Surrender is the only option, the only chance we have for true survival…
We all need to…
…..
I need to talk to the other “Allies” ... This needs to be a collective effort… For once, we need to actually do something good for them other than just provide the humans with flowery words and false promises.
I go about setting up a collective comm-link, soon enough all the other ambassadors that were willing to ally with humanity were present…
“I don’t need to explain why I set up this call…”
…
Cupo spoke, “We are going to die… but we will die trying… we must work to be better for them…”
“I propose we all gather a delegation to meet at Venlil Prime.'', said Chauson… “There? We will make our way to try and negotiate with the humans… hopefully the Arxur don’t get to us first…”
The Yotul spoke, “I think we should all make a collective effort to gather more species from the federation to join in our endeavor… More importantly? We all need to break away from this nightmare of an organization…”
There was a collective nod…
I said, “Then we have no time to waste… we will all contact as many races as possible to convince them this is the best course of action…”
“Tarva, you knew their secretary general the best… after The Battle of Earth, do you think he will be merciful?”
I gave a soft smile… “I certainly hope so… I know he’ll make the right choice for everyone involved… He’s a good person…”. That part I said with confidence, Meier was the most collected and caring person I knew after all…
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________
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Cover Art <<Previous Start Next >>
Kazue would have been jealous about Moriko’s shopping trip and dinner with the princess if she wasn’t so happy having her friends visiting her. Well, okay, she was still a bit jealous, but only a little. Given the two options, she’d rather have her friends over.
Her little ‘camp out’ had been fun, and also given her a chance to test out the rest area. The layout wasn’t quite perfect, and she’d made some mental notes to tweak things once her friends were in the library, such as adjusting the layout of the kitchen area to make things more convenient.
Once everyone was ready to continue, Kazue had called the shrine maidens together and gave them all a mischievous grin. “I’ve adjusted the rules of the next area just for you. Your primary goal is simply to find me, that’s your way forward. However, you have some bonus quests; each of you may tell me one new thing you learned from the library to earn a bonus reward, and you may each correct one wrong thing you find presented as truth in one of the books. Which means stories and myths don’t count.” As far as she knew, there were no incorrect records in the books currently in the library, but there was always a chance. And these bonus quests were something she’d had in mind for visiting sages anyway. Her friends were not so knowledgeable, but all of them had more than a bit of book learning, so they might happen to spot something.
“There’s a separate bonus for each.” Not that she’d entirely decided what those were yet, but she was keeping a tally of what they’d done so far. She and Mordecai had talked last night about rewards in general, they’d been mostly customizing things to make a good impression, but after this it was probably time to create standardized rewards for most groups. It was just a lot of effort to always come up with something new, and they’d sort of already come up with a few specialties they handed out regularly, such as the crystal-honey potions. “Now, good luck in finding me!” Kazue had her core create a swirl of wind and a light bit of sparkling dust as she did a spinning jump while de-spawning her avatar, making herself vanish into thin air dramatically.
It had taken days of practice to nail the timing. If she was going to become a famous kitsune, even if as a dungeon, Kazue felt that she should try to live up to some of the myths when she could. But it turned out that it takes a lot of work to pull off special effects like that.
As she settled her avatar back down in the tea shop, she realized a slight flaw in her plans for the day. While her avatar was a focus for the dungeon area around it, her avatar was not really suitable for tracking stuff further away. Which only left her with one focus to follow her friends and to follow the priest’s party. “Er, Mordecai? Could you…?”
“Of course love.” Came his amused reply. He’d figured it out while she was hesitating on asking, and had shifted his core’s focus to the library’s combat path.
With that concern taken care of, Kazue focused her core on tracking her friends’ progress while her avatar practiced some of the spells she’d been learning from him, plus some of the techniques Moriko had taught her previously. She wasn’t very good at chi manipulation in general and didn’t anticipate becoming so, but the practice did help her with mastering the aura that let her enhance her foxfire and imbue it with spells.
.
Mordecai was doing some practice of his own, working his way through various imaginary combat scenarios in each of his forms. He already knew how to respond in his humanoid shape, but these hybrid forms were unique to his experience and he wanted to know the strengths and weaknesses of each. The larger the body the harder it was to sway and slide past an attack, but this came with tougher skin or scale, making it easier and safer to use a limb to deflect a blow. With the bit of testing he’d done so far, he was pretty certain that in his battle or war form he could safely deflect a nonmagical blade so long as he got the angle right, and most magical blades with the addition of a bit of chi channeling.
But his core was still free to pay attention to the explorer’s party. He quickly queried the residents to get what instructions they had gotten from Kazue, then compared her assessment of the party to his own. They were pretty much in agreement and he saw no reason to change anything.
The wandering Bunbrarians would be traveling in pairs, which would make any encounter where they engaged after hearing other combat a sufficient challenge for this group. If they were instead waiting in a location without other creatures with them, they would be in a group of three.
Biblios was going to engage them without support from Horace, but with support from the smaller bookwyrms and the biting words.
.
Moriko’s intended schedule had been totally demolished, so her day was spent dealing with all the goods that had arrived the night before and arranging to get most of them off to her father-in-law for him to arrange shipping. Once that was all settled, she turned her attention to studying the papers her master had sent her.
Thankfully she wasn’t going to have to worry about more than two generations. She’d been informed last night that Prince Gou would be the youngest person at the dinner, and the oldest of Princess Kagami’s children was thirteen, three years younger than Prince Gou.
So, from the top: King and Queen, Yoshihiro Apifera, 56, and his wife Phaedra Apifera, 54, who had previously been a daughter to a coastal duchy. Moriko had known their names of course but hadn’t been aware of what noble family Phaedra had come from.
Both of their faces were on coins minted in the past seventeen years. The previous king had abdicated in his mid 60’s and was still available for consultation but was now in his 80s. Given the tendency of the royal family to live near to or even over one hundred, retiring was common practice so that succession was not a series of old men replacing each other. Yoshihiro had claimed the throne at the age of 39.
His features were a mix of the two common lineages, which itself was more common in this kingdom than someone who was distinctly one or the other. The northern empire by contrast mostly had folk with rounder eyes. Half-elves tended to look more almond-eyed than their human ancestry alone would account for, as the elven side of their ancestry tended towards those features as well.
Queen Phaedra and Princess Kagami looked much alike according to what she’d heard, so Moriko rather imagined that it would be hard to tell the older woman’s age. The notes she’d been given also mentioned that sylph bloodlines ran strong in the queen’s family, which explained why they had such ethereal appearances. She was generally calm and poised and known to wield both air and ice magic when called for.
Princess Kagami, 34, eldest of the royal children, was married to Lord Zarod, a younger son of a southern barony. They lived in the royal estates at the center of the city and had three children, all sons.
Prince Ailwin, 33, first son and heir to the throne. He resembled his father but with a slightly longer, thinner face. His wife was Lady Amhis, a half-elf who had previously been a commoner and was a merchant who had made herself wealthy. She had not entirely retired from business either, though she kept a slightly more distant touch on her concerns for the most part. Moriko suspected that at least one of the merchants she had dealt with previously had actually been working for her. They also had three children, two sons and a daughter, with the daughter being the youngest. As heir, he had a suite near the center of the palace.
Princess Kitiara, 31. She and her wife Lady Catherine split their time between the capital and the northern border. They were a bit of a power couple and tales told of how quickly the two of them could cut their way through a group of bandits. Their soldiers were said to both fear and worship the two women.
Princess Tiriana, 28, engaged to an elven noble named Ilimater. Plans were to have the wedding here before they moved back to his lands for their permanent residence, where there would be a second reception for locals that would be her formal introduction as the lady of the estate.
Princess Bridgette, 21. No known romantic affiliation, but very gregarious and seemed happy to accept almost any dance invitation during balls. Her bloodline had been confirmed as phoenix, but it was uncertain when that lineage was introduced or even what side she got it from. It was probably from someone who had married into one of the families without knowing they carried this potential.
Prince Gou, 16. Second Son and youngest child. Taller than his siblings and already well-built, there were hints of a draconic bloodline stirring in him, though it had not fully manifested. Which dragon heritage it was had not been revealed yet. Even without draconic manifestation he was a young powerhouse and quite handsome, and had the eye of a few young ladies of the court. Though he seemed to enjoy the attention greatly, he’d shown no interest in a particular girl.
Moriko sighed and thunked her head onto her small desk. This was the dozenth or so time she’d read through it all, and the third time she’d written a summary to try and hold it all in her head. It was time to get some food and take a nap before going over the list again along with the basic etiquette rules. They weren’t quite as bad as she had feared, but it was still a lot more complicated than anything she’d dealt with in the temple outside of full-blown ceremonies.
At least over dinner last night they’d slightly changed the plans, the carriage would pick her up from the clothier instead, which would also give mistress Ula a little more time to finish the dress before it was time for Moriko to put it on.
.
Mordecai did his best to offer his emotional support to his frustrated wife, but Moriko was grumpy from all the studying and only in the mood to accept so much comfort. He had copied her memories and thoughts as clearly as he could, and would use them to prompt her if she needed them during the dinner, but that he didn’t mention to her just yet.
Moriko was intelligent and could focus on a task well enough to memorize this list, but she was far from a natural academic. He didn’t want to give her any subconscious excuses to slack on learning this, and he felt that she would feel more accomplished if she did it all on her own. Mordecai just intended to be her safety net if needed.
But with her attention turned towards food and sleep, Mordecai turned his thoughts to a different consideration. “Kazue love, given the gender discrepancy in your clan, how do romantic relationships generally work out?”
“Mmm, it’s a mix. If a girl wants to be with a boy kitsune, she’s probably going to have to accept being one of a few or even several. Sometimes a guy insists that a particular girl is the only one for him, but honestly, it's pretty rare given the options. If she’s happy to be with a human or an elf or such, well, my dad’s human and it’s not all that rare. We probably also have more female couples than in other places, but that’s just a guess. On the flip side, though a guy usually winds up with a group of women, and has a lot of open dating early on, the final group of women usually self select out of the women he’s been seeing and work out who is compatible with who, and then present themselves to him together. His options are all or none. Most guys aren’t foolish enough to try and be picky in this circumstance, and the rare one that is, risks finding himself with no one. For a while at least, long life spans and all that, so if he gets wiser a younger group of women may form around him, with advice and supervision of older women.”
That sounded well put together to him. Not perfect, but given the circumstances rather healthy. Communities with even a temporary gender imbalance were better off if the larger population gender was cooperative about the situation rather than competitive, he could only imagine how bad it would be if all the kitsune women were competing for a small pool of men across generations and centuries.
And that information solidified how he was going to approach something when the time came. But right now it was time to see how this group did against Biblios.
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Based on a Dream
FDF Resolute, Sanctum Class Battlecruiser, en route to NT-2125 deep Fringe.
Mary had been rather intrigued by the concept of an observation deck on a ship. Curator ship designs didn’t even have windows let alone a whole deck. Yet, deck seemed a bit of a grand exaggeration now that she was standing in the room with the large window dominating one wall. The room was empty aside from herself. Though there were tables and chairs enough to fit a few dozen people easily. No doubt it was more in use if the ship should be hosting dignitaries over some important planet, or picturesque astronomical feature. En route to NT-2125 however they were instead enveloped in the Ink, a sight no one seemed keen on viewing.
Her education had of course touched on the existence of the Ink, but that was about it. She had no idea how it really was used to facilitate FTL travel. What she did know, now that she was looking at it, was that it was rather unpleasant to look at. She had seen purest black. The concept of looking at entirely nothing but a void was fine with her.
The Ink however… While she watched it slowly move around before her eyes it was like a vast ocean of some kind. An ocean of… incredible depth. When she had first stepped into the room and seen it dominating the large window she had thought it to be a mixture of blues, purples, and blacks. But the longer she watched the bubbles and lines slowly moving around she wasn’t sure if she were seeing color at all. Maybe she was seeing not the absence of light, but something opposite to it. As if the Ink gave off… anti-light.
She had no basis for this thought of course. No training, education, or experience to make her believe it was a real thing. Yet, if matter had anti-matter why couldn’t light have anti-light? After all the longer she looked the more if felt like she wasn’t really seeing anything. Nothing real anyway. More like… if she closed her eyes and rubbed against the eyelids and saw the attempts of her brain understand the shadows. Then there was the thought maybe she really was seeing something. Something just under the waves of its vast deep ocean of anti-light. After all, what was causing it to move? Were the waves, ripples, and bubbles purely random? Or was there something making it move?
As unpleasant as her line of thinking was, at least watching it gave her some small alone time on the otherwise crowded vessel. It also gave her an excuse to keep her headset muted. She would much rather deal with staring out at a vast ocean of anti-light than listen to the ship around her at this point. Yet, the moment she began to consider that she saw a flash in the bottom of her vision. Door opening. With a flick she started the program to let her headset gradually increase volume as her ears began to work again.
First sound, click of hard heel on metallic decking. Second sound, sharp intake of breath likely indicating surprise, anxiety, unease, or combination. Third sound, a tongue flicking against teeth before making a disapproving sucking sound. Fourth sound, fabric on fabric rubbing was very low and soft indicating luxury stitching and material. “Hello Director Obli.”
“Translator.” Came the curt reply, though said at a perfectly reasonable volume for normal speaking Mary winced a bit. Going from total silence to even the muted sounds she was getting now was rough at times. Especially as more just kept building. Even at this low level the sound of the ships began to return to her. The groan of metal, the hum of electricity, the distant murmur of people going about their tasks. She had no idea what she’d do without the headset to at least partially mute the world around her.
“Your bodyguards aren’t joining us?” Mary glanced over at the Huul’Rav in his custom suit. She couldn’t see his guards, but she could hear them just outside. She recognized Hrue from his breathing pattern, as smoking had done a number on his lungs. Based on the jingle of grenade tabs the other was Juul.
“If the Curators wanted me dead I highly doubt they’d create you just for the task. They’re more than powerful enough to have no need for subtlety or subterfuge.” Even though the director was talking to her he was looking out the window at the Ink. She could see the disdain on his face rather obviously. A hand moving up to nervously brush his furry chin, even as he tilted his horns side to side.
While he seemed focused on the Ink her mind returned to his curious comment. Did the Curators need to employ subterfuge? Of course they were powerful, but surely there was also use in subterfuge. Regardless, she had not been sent to kill the Director. Or anyone for that matter. She had no training in combat or related topics. He seemed to also be thinking about this though as he looked at her. “You aren’t here to kill me right?”
“No. I’m not here to kill you or anyone else.” She assured him. “I’m just here to facilitate communications during the negotiations.”
“It is curious though. Why the Custodians sent anyone at all…” He trailed off and while she was about to answer he turned and spoke first. “Actually do you mind if we talk somewhere else?” At the end his eyes darted to the window and the swirl of the Ink beyond.
“Certainly.” She nodded, and gestured to the door letting him go first.
“I appreciate it.” He commented and even as he stepped through the door Hrue stepped in front of him to lead, while Juul stepped up behind Mary to follow. “I will admit it spoils my plans a bit. I wanted to talk with you in private a little. But uh… I do not particularly enjoy looking at the Ink.” She could hear his breathing pattern change just being in the hallway, out of sight of the swirling anti-light.
“I’m sure we can find privacy elsewhere. Though I am unsure what kind of private chat you would like. I’m here strictly as a neutral party to facilitate negotiations.” She reminded him.
“As you’ve said many times.” Obli waved off her remark. “Anyway, since you’re new to this sort of thing I just want to introduce you to my underling since you’ll be working for him during the start of the talks.”
Mary frowned at this sudden revelation. “First, I don’t work for you, or your subordinate. I-”
“Are a neutral translator provided by the Curators.” He waved her off again as they walked. All around her she could hear the ship and its crew going about keeping the ship alive as it were. It was an older vessel and every creak and groan of stressed metal, or electrical spark continued to heighten her anxiety. She could not wait to get off this vessel and onto a planet. “I meant work for him in a more metaphorical sense. I know you likely expected to work with me throughout these talks but it’s just not how labor talks to management. They don’t get to start by talking to a Director. They’ll start with someone just important enough to garner attention but with no real power. If he fails, I swoop in and save things. If he succeeds I get to take credit in the end and talk about how I knew he was the man for the job.”
The further they walked from the observation deck and the Ink the more confident and in fact arrogant Obli got. She wasn’t particularly keen on his behavior but she had at least grown accustomed to it on the trip so far. “Why then did you spend most of this trip testing my abilities as a translator?”
“Because I was trying to figure out your angle.” He replied with a glance back over his shoulder as they reached a lift. The four of them filtered into it before Juul hit the button for the hangar deck.
“I don’t have an angle. I was instructed to come here and facilitate-” She began but he yet again waved her off.
“Neutral yes yes. But why? We’ve never needed nor requested Curator assistance for anything like this. We have a proven history of successfully ending labor disputes and organization efforts. So why have the curators bothered to send you? Shouldn’t you be trying to help keep the FDF from falling apart? Or spreading the word of the Curators to the masses or something? That is something they do right? Proselytize?” Mary was fairly confident Obli tried to be dismissive about the Curators just to make himself more comfortable. It was a minor enough annoyance to overlook. Though she wondered if it actually helped ease his fragile ego.
“The Curators do not proselytize no. They have no need. They exist. They act. They do not need the approval of others, nor belief in their correctness. I am here because I have been ordered to be here. I was told I must assist in negotiating between the belligerent parties on NT-2125 and observe the outcome. That is all. If the Curators have a deeper reason for sending me here I do not know it.” While she spoke she could already hear Obli clicking his tongue in disapproval. Hrue was trying, and failing, to breathe quietly. Juul was running her hand over a smooth metallic object in her right pocket, slowly turning it over.
“I know you are flesh and blood, but you’re more like your creators than I find comforting.” Obli very bluntly commented.
“I do not exist for your comfort.” Mary pointedly replied, which made Obli click his tongue in disapproval once more. By that point the lift stopped and the doors opened. The rush of sound from the hangar deck made her wince a moment as she had to deal with the sudden volume as she lowered her headset sensitivity.
“I don’t think you exist for your own comfort either.” Obli remarked, now smirking a little at her obvious discomfort. There was little she could do but cast a glare in his direction as the pain subsided and the sounds took on a more muted level. Looking out across the hangar she could see dozens of people moving around and working on the ship’s complement of shuttles, and fighters. No one was expecting combat, but that didn’t stop the captain from preparing anyway. While she was told most of the machinery operated at frequencies most species couldn’t hear it always gave her a headache to be around so many buzzing, grinding, churning machines.
“Regardless.” Obli continued. “I want to make it clear I have been authorized to extend to the Curators our most sincere intent to be friends. If there is anything we can do to make your job more comfortable let me know. And if you see fit to pass on anything you hear from the labor organizers direct compensation is on offer.”
“I am here as a neutral party.” She reminded him yet again. But he just spread his hands and smiled.
“We’re willing to pay for even what you would consider banter and gossip. Anything you hear. My subordinate is also authorized to compensate you but I’d prefer a direct copy.” He held out an encryption cylinder. While she had no intention of passing along anything she did take it. It might be useful for other reasons.
“I don’t have a bank account, you know. Or any credits.” When she told him this he looked entirely confused. “I am not paid for my efforts. Curators do not use currency of any kind. Resources are simply provided as needed.”
Director Obli’s look of pure disgust was even more obvious than when he’d been in the observation deck. “And here I thought they were civilized… But it’s then all the more important for you to start building up your own nest egg!” He began to pull a credit chip from his pocket but she waved him off.
“I’m not chipped nor do I have a slate.” This time he scoffed and looked confused even as he held it out.
“You can take the whole thing. How do you expect to pay for anything on the planet without credits?” He seemed genuinely baffled.
“I don’t expect to pay for anything on the planet. Your company has extended their most sincere intent to be friends after all.” As she tilted her head a little while looking at him Obli just snorted.
“Ah… This is why my assistant was babbling about an expense waiver. Yes… There are limits to it, you know. Food, drink, necessities only.” Mary just stared at him until he finally sighed and tucked the credit chip back into his pocket. “Fine. It’s best for you to go change now then, the shuttle will be leaving as soon as we hit real space.”
She was wondering why he’d brought her here directly. “And why am I changing?”
“Well, you can go as you are if you like. But this isn’t a Curator ship. The Resolute has to drop further away from the planet so the shuttle will be in space to close the gap to the planet. And, I mean clearly Curator tech never breaks or has any accidents but our poor mortal hands make poor mortal vessels.” Obli spread his hands as if to highlight his own soft, well manicured hands.
“Fine.” While her suit wasn’t as comfortable as her normal clothes she didn’t intend on being the only one killed by some sort of accident on the way to the planet. It would set a terrible precedent. So she walked away from Obli and his guards then towards the hangar’s locker room.
As she strode across the deck, stepping over fuel and coolant lines she tried to make some sense of the mass of sound around her. Obli no doubt thought she was beyond earshot when he spoke to his guards. “Strange bird. Easy on the eyes though.”
Hrue cleared his throat a moment to reply in a gravely, raspy voice. “Think the Curators made her to be attractive to most species somehow? Robot magic or something?”
“I don’t know. Maybe. I still don’t know why they sent anyone at all. I don’t trust those damned machines.” Obli replied. She had expected this sort of reaction. It was in line with their comments during the trip.
Other than that most of the technicians, mechanics, and pilots moving around the hangar seemed much more focused on their work than anything else. Grumblings about the captain’s standards, and an apparent lack of spare parts. Based on the overall comments it seemed to be more about not wanting to do so much work rather than serious concerns over abilities to keep ships functional. Or so she hoped.
Once in the locker room she made her way to the back where a special case had been installed for her suit. While she would have preferred to travel on a Curator vessel she was glad to at least get a Curator suit. They didn’t have many organics, but the suits they made for her and the other Lifted were absolutely the best in terms of survivability, durability, and protection. Just not… comfort.
Since the locker room seemed to be empty she quickly stripped down, setting aside the encryption cylinder Obli had given her. For a moment she examined herself, along the deep red feathers of her head and neck, gradually turning to a sunburst yellow down her torso, and finally a rich deep blue along her legs and tail. Did species find her attractive? If the Curators had intended for this they likely would have included it in her training surely. Must just be Obli and his guards.
Stepping up to the Curator case she hit the activation button and then held perfectly still as the case opened, arms moving out to begin affixing the suit to her body. First she felt the snap of metal rings around her ankles, wrists, neck, hips, and ribs before the rest of the exoskeleton was built up around it. Then came the cool mesh of the inner suit pulled up underneath it and against her feathers. Next was the composites slotted into the outside, layered and overlapped for maximum coverage. Finally she prepared herself for the final step as two hoses connected to the metal collar around her neck. She hated this part.
When the liquid began to pump into the lining between the mesh and the composite layer it was ice cold and caused her to gasp and shudder as it filled in. It took a few minutes while she tried to carefully control her breathing and push past the cold. Once it was finally full the suit activated and the liquid turned solid, controlled by the sophisticated Curator chip in her skull. Her temperature quickly began to return to normal now and she took a slow deep breath in relief before taking the helmet the case offered last.
She refrained from putting the helmet on yet though, it wasn’t quite big enough for her taste and always rubbed her eartips. Walking back out into the hangar she could feel the suit somewhat flowing around her movements. It would turn liquid to move, then solid when it didn’t need to. She was also told it would go selectively rigid to deflect projectiles. A feature she hoped to never test.
Looking around a moment she saw Obli near the closest shuttle, speaking to someone wearing an executive pattern suit. Luxurious and comfortable, but she’d prefer the Curator suit in an emergency. Next to him was a human in a deep blue armored suit with steel accents. As she watched he draped a travel cloak over the shoulders of the suit. An interesting touch. Walking towards them she had to stop a moment to let a rumbling hangar tug pass. Several technicians rode in the back, carried to their next task.
Judging on the whine of the back left wheel she figured their next task might be to fix the tug itself. Either way she continued on up to Director Obli. “Translator. I’d like you to meet Kingus.” Obli gestured to the figure in the executive suit. Up close she could see through his helmet’s faceplate and examine the Nikvic inside. Rather stubby bone ridges. Rather young then for an executive.
“Translator.” He nodded to her.
“Kingus, it’s nice to meet you. My name is Mary, though translator is just fine as well.” She took an amicable approach for now.
“Yes. This is my bodyguard, Eli.” He gestured to the human next to him, who made for an imposing figure in his armor. With his helmet in place the steel visor reflected a distorted reflection of herself back at her.
“Ma’am.” He nodded and extended a hand out from under his cloak. Shifting her helmet to her left hand she carefully reached out to shake his hand in return.
“Eli, it’s nice to meet you.” The first human she’d found in the employ of the company. Though she knew most of the problems on the planet were related to their human miners. Allegedly at least.
“Nice to meet you as well ma’am.” His shake was firm but not aggressive. “We should be ready shortly. They’re loading the last of some food supplies and then we’re waiting on the marines.”
“Food supplies… I don’t even know what we’re taking down there. Argyle is a full fledged city. The problems its facing are related to labor terrorists. Not famine.” Kingus mentioned with a huff.
“It’s likely my food.” Mary answered. “The Curators were unsure how long I would be here and sent me with a full complement of prepared meals.”
“Oh.” Kingus coughed lightly. “Well… that’s fine then. I wasn’t aware you had special dietary needs. But the marines at least should be here. What’s taking them so long?” He tried to deflect a little and looked around.
As if summoned by his complaint she saw a group of human soldiers approaching the shuttle. The few times she had seen soldiers so far they’d been in smart uniforms and moving with purpose and sharp specific gestures. These… did not look nearly so impressive. Or poised. Instead the group just walked casually towards them, in a mixture of armor sets. Most had a haphazard drab olive green coat of paint but much of it was chipped and worn. Not to mention much of it was also covered in writing, drawings, and decals that she doubted were officially sanctioned.
Only the man in the lead looked to be in a truly official uniform set of armor. “I’m Lieutenant Barrow. I assume this is the shuttle we want?”
“Barrow, this is Kingus our Executive Labor Liason.” Director Obli introduced them. “This is our translator Mary.”
“Never seen one of you before. What species are you?” Mary turned to look at the soldier who’d spoken to her. He was just next to the officer, and his armor looked particularly beat up. She also noticed signs of scorch marks in several places. Unlike the single smooth faceplate of Eli’s armor his helmet looked more like a scowling face with golden lenses in the eyes.
“I am not an official species. I was Lifted by the Curators to act as a translator.” She informed him directly.
“Interesting. So you’re a bird. But you’ve got ears. What’s with the headset?” He gestured up at it as she reflexively reached up with her free hand to touch the side.
“There was a slight miscalculation in my creation and I find most settings to be… uncomfortably loud. The headset is to regulate the volume of my surroundings to prevent damage and discomfort.” She explained.
“What… wait. The Curators made a translator who gets hurt by sound? Am I understanding that right?” Mary frowned at his comment.
“That’s somewhat reductive.” She tried to deflect.
“Is it wrong?” He pressed.
“It’s not entirely inaccurate.” Disparaging on the work of the Curators wasn’t something she was comfortable with.
“That’s a fancy way of saying I’m right. So your job, which is listening to things, actively hurts you. Man… sucks to be you.” A few of the other marines snickered and giggled behind him as Mary frowned.
“Gunny, that’s enough.” Barrow finally waved off the other marine.
“Where’s the rest of your company? And the Major?” Obli asked now, thankfully moving things along.
“Elsewhere. He said if you’re not going to the planet yet he doesn’t see a reason to go either. My platoon and I are sufficient at this time. Once you’re ready to head down then the rest of the company will deploy.” Barrow shrugged. “You send your flunkey first he sends his flunkey too.”
“We have concerns about possible terrorist strikes on civilians during the labor talks. Are you sure a platoon is really sufficient?” Kingus asked.
The officer sucked in a breath, likely about to answer but Gunny cut him off. “Isn’t it interesting. All across the fringe you corporate types like to talk about how safe and secure your mining colonies are. Biding everyone to bring their families and get to work. Yet, the moment a union starts to form you start screaming about terrorists and how you need the military to keep order.”
“Gunny.” The officer hissed at him. Gunny waved it off a moment as the officer cleared his throat. “Your own reports suggest corporate security is robust enough to secure the city. We have no intel to suggest any threats of terrorist strikes by the miners are really valid. A platoon will suffice for now. If the situation changes the rest of the company can deploy very quickly I assure you.”
“Fine. But remember just because the miners in question are human doesn’t mean you can give them free reign. The FDF and by extension the marines rely on our funding to keep functioning.” Kingus replied.
“You never let us fucking forget.” Gunny muttered that barely under his breath. Neither Kingus or Obli seemed to pick up on this but Mary did.
“Many species across the Fringe have been generous enough to accept many human refugees. We obviously seek a future of cooperation and mutual success. This is not about humans being singled out. They have been given the same rights and contracts as all other species who join our corporate family.” Director Obli smiled and spread his hands in a friendly gesture. “We ask only that you protect the talks because they’re so important to our continued wellbeing as united front here on the Fringe. The Tide comes for us all and we must be ready. Together.”
“Well said Director.” Kingus nodded in support.
“Fucking please…” Gunny muttered and made some sort of gesture with his fist making a pumping motion in front of his hips. From the reports the Curators had given her, really what it seemed like was the humans massively increased their productivity, but in exchange wanted better treatment from the various industrial consortiums. The executives like Obli enjoyed the productivity but felt treating them better would set a bad precedent.
Across the fringe however humans had been getting their way more often than not. NT-2125 was by far the biggest, most high profile case, but she didn’t imagine it would be anything special. “Yes, well, we are here to keep you safe and make sure no one kills anyone. On either side.” The officer assured them and then gestured at the shuttle. “Shall we?”
“Have a nice flight Translator. Remember to call me.” Obli smiled and nodded at her.
“I’m sure we’ll be in touch, Director.” She finally pulled her helmet up and on, feeling it settle into place with a click and a soft hiss at it pressurized. The very tips of her ears were lightly pressed in by the sides which was why she’d waited this long to put it on. The marines began to board the shuttle first, shuffling along rows in the center to get into seats with metal shoulder restraints that would help hold them in place.
“Hey, so you’re a Lifted? What do the Curators want you here for? What’s the deal?” Gunny asked as he waited near the back for the others to shuffle in.
“I am not at liberty at this time to discuss the Curators or their work.” Mary’s forehead felt slightly warm as she answered him.
“Oh come on. There’s got to be something special the Curators want you here for.” Gunny insisted.
“I am not at liberty at this time to discuss the Curators or their work.” Mary’s forehead felt a bit warmer still.
“Gunny leave her alone.” Barrow instructed.
“C’mon why a translator at all? We’ve got earpieces! I’ve never seen a translator before, let alone a Curator one!” By now the other marines were seated and Mary began to shuffle up the row looking for a free seat.
“Ma’am you’ll need to take one of the jumpseats up front. These harnesses aren’t made for your Curator suit.” Barrow tapped one of the set of shoulder restraints. So she kept shuffling past the row of marines towards the front.
“I don’t rely on machine translation. I am fluent in over six hundred languages and forms of communication. I listen to all parties and ensure nothing is lost in translation.” She assured them.
“Only six hundred? I knew of a guy who was fluent in over six million forms of communication.” Gunny’s voice had a slightly different tone to it. Was he joking?
“Six million seems excessive. I assure you I am well trained for my job.” Now at the front of the shuttle she found the jumpseat in question. Yet, when she went to pull the seat down the dangerous whine and groan of the metal hinged did not inspire her with confidence. Still it was her mission so she settled into the seat and went about trying to figure out the harness.
Barrow approached her and pointed to the straps in order to help her out. “You’ll be fine. This is really just a precaution.” The Lieutenant nodded and gave her shoulder a pat. She smiled up at him then, her faceplate clear unlike their armor. It was thought to be better for non-verbal communication cues if people she spoke to could see her face. Kingus and Eli were the last to settle in seats nearby.
“Hey! Corpse!” Gunny called out as Eli settled into his seat and set the shoulder restraints with practiced ease.
“Excuse me?” Eli looked across the aisle at Gunny.
“You’re corporate security right? Corp-sec.” Gunny more carefully pronounced. But Mary was positive he hadn’t made a mistake earlier.
“I’m a private bodyguard. I work on contract.” Eli corrected him.
“Oh well anyway the fuck is with the cloak?” Gunny gestured at the deep blue cloak draped over Eli’s shoulders and body. “You’re in a suit right? Kind of the point of a space suit to be waterproof and somewhat heat proof and shit yeah? Kind of defeats the point of a cloak right? So what gives?”
“It’s about looking stylish. Something you clearly have no concept of Gunnery Sergeant.” Eli’s response seemed to take Gunny by surprise. The Gunny? Was Gunny a nickname or a title? Either way the marines around snickered and chuckled a bit though she could hear Gunny snort.
Barrow took the jumpseat next to her instead of one of the more secure seats. Possibly to help set her at ease. Which she appreciated. “So, Lieutenant. Do you expect this mission to be dangerous?”
“What? Protecting the talks? No. We’ve done this a few times so far. It’s pretty boring. No one has actually done anything. Usually there are some protests. Corp-sec shove people around. Both sides are upset. But no one dies. The talks advance. The miners get a bit more pay and benefits. Both sides are mutually annoyed with the other. And I’m sure in a few years it’ll all happen again.” Barrow shrugged and seemed entirely unconcerned.
“Don’t be so flippant.” Kingus said even as Barrow seemed to dismiss any concerns. “We’ve had some communications troubles from NT-2125. The work of labor agitators no doubt.”
“Communications troubles? Why are you telling us that now?” Barrow asked, showing some concern.
“I thought it was common knowledge?” Kingus sounded genuinely confused that Barrow was unaware of this. “Is it not? Executives on the ground have spoken of damaged communications systems, and delayed reports from outlying facilities.”
“Have there been delays in ore shipments? Or minerals or whatever?” Barrow asked.
“No. In fact due to our exemplary corporate structure we’re seeing increases across the board.” Kingus nodded, clearly proud of this fact.
“So… in your mind the labor agitators are breaking lines of communication. But not… the ore shipments which you find significantly more valuable?” Barrow asked, clearly not buying the idea.
“Don’t be complacent! Just because labor organizers have been rarely violent in the past doesn’t mean it will always be the case! I want your men on their highest alertness lieutenant!” Kingus stressed.
“Yes sir, I’ll be sure to pass that along.” Barrow assured him, even though Mary could tell by his tone that he had no intention of doing anything.
“What’s the planet like?” She asked next.
“The locals have called it Argyle.” Kingus answered. “It’s our largest mining operation and a highlight of our terraforming technology. A dozen zones have been established across the surface and ten of them are already fully habitable without a suit. We expect work to be done on six zones within the solar cycle, and shall open up another dozen to be finished within the next three solar cycles. Mineral and ore outputs are quadruple expectations. Mostly thanks to our unequaled refinery efficiency.”
“Or maybe cause you’re exploiting the shit out of your workers.” Again Gunny muttered this quietly enough to be missed by the others. Mary was settling into her seat as best she could when she heard the engines spool up. Inside the armored cockpit behind her she could hear the pilots flipping switches.
“Systems check complete. Echo shuttle requesting clearance for departure.” She wasn’t sure if that was the pilot or co-pilot. Deeper, possibly male.
“We got a flight plan?” Lighter possible female. Maybe that was the pilot?
“Yeah.” Navigator. Younger, more youthful. Not clear if male or female. “Not much to it. Follow the automated beacons. Their spaceport is big enough for Tagmax freighters so it should be easy peasy lemon squeezy.” Human definitely.
“We’re clear.” Co-pilot.
“Okay.” There was a moment where Mary’s hearing seemed to echo as she heard both the pilot in the cockpit and over the speakers in the hold at the same time. “We’re in real space and disembarking now. Remember to keep your hands and feet inside the ride at all times until we come to a full and complete stop. We know you’ve got no choice in airlines today so suck it up because we’re all you got.” Also definitely human.
Gunny seemed to wiggle and settle in his seat, as if to take a nap. In general the marine chatter in the hold seemed very relaxed and calm. A good sign. The most nervous person was likely Kingus whose breathing she could tell was getting a bit quicker and more nervous. After another few seconds she heard the engine spooling get more intense and the shuttle picked up off the deck. Kingus tensed at this as his hands gripped the seat’s armrests more tightly.
While Mary wished she was in a superior Curator craft she was relatively relaxed. She’d flown many times, especially in her training to make sure she could translate even in stressful situations. Part of her wanted to mute her headset for now, to free herself of the need to listen to every jostle of the shuttle and the people within it, but she knew it was more important to maintain her ability to listen to the flight crew.
For several minutes however she mostly had to fight her growing desire to take a nap. Gunny’s breathing shifted into a soft and consistent snore so he already fell asleep. The gentle rumble of the ship around her and her secure nature also lent itself to a desire to nap… “Hey did we check the sensor calibration before we left?” Navigator.
“Yeah, total systems check. Everything cleared. I’m not seeing any problems.” Pilot.
“Uuuhhh… Okay.” Their tone implied things were not okay. She turned her head a little, and began to dial up her headset, ignoring the other sounds and focusing on the cockpit. Another minute went by as she just had the hum of the engines and marine chatter around her. “We’re sure the sensors were checked?”
“Yeah. Why what’s wrong?” Pilot.
“It’s just… uh… doesn’t make sense. I’m reading like… aaa lot of different atmospheres?” Navigator.
“Yeah. They’re terraforming it. So, a lot of different atmospheric readings.” Co-pilot.
“Sure but… some of these are… bizarre.. Like a… nitrogen? Maybe? And uh… ammonia.” She frowned as the Navigator said this.
“Maybe those are the natural planetary atmosphere. Listen, everything else I’ve got is reading fine.” Pilot.
“Ask ground maybe? Terraforming… accidents?” Navigator.
“Resolute this is Echo Two. Do we have any direct communication with Ground? Over.” Co-pilot. Pause. “No direct comms at this time. But the nav beacons are loud and clear.”
“Probably just some interference. I mean if they’ve had a terraforming accident it’s probably hell on comms.” Pilot.
“Yeah… probably.” Navigator, entirely unconvinced. As she listened she realized Barrow was staring straight at her. Did he suspect something? Was he on their channel?
“Something up?” He asked.
“The navigator thinks there might have been a terraforming accident on the planet.” She explained.
“What? How do you know that?” Barrows looked from her towards the armored door between them.
“I can hear them.” She explained simply.
“Did you say a terraforming accident?” Kinugs looked her way now.
“They say there’s strange atmospherics on the planet.” She revealed.
“I knew it! Labor agitators!” He huffed. “Tell your men to be ready for all manner of terrorism Lieutenant!”
“Mmhh…” Barrow's answer was noncommittal but seemed worried as he focused on Mary. She was still focused on the cockpit however.
“Was there a cruiser in orbit somewhere?” Co-pilot.
“The uh… Tartar or something. At least on the mission brief. We tracking it anywhere?” Pilot.
“I… no. I’ve got us, the orbital refinery platform, and the Resolute.” Navigator.
“Freighters? Shuttles? Corporate Yachts? Anything?” Pilot.
“Nnnnno.” Navigator.
“They aren’t seeing any other traffic in orbit.” She relayed to Barrow.
Barrow cleared his throat and seemed to trigger a mic in his helmet. “Guys, shut the fuck up. Gunny wake up.” A marine besides gunny slapped the man’s shoulder causing him to jerk in his seat and a knife seemed to appear in his hand.
“Wah?” He looked around.
“Something’s up.” Barrow mentioned. “No traffic, planetary comms are down, and terraformers are fucked up.”
Mary expected some smart comment but Gunny tucked his knife away and just listened. “Wait. A… freighter is taking off.” Navigator. “And I’ve got one leaving the orbital platform.”
“Ping them?” Co-pilot. Pilot must have nodded because he continued. “Pinging.” Pause. “Both are automated. Both report… systems are fine. No issues.”
“Nothing from ground? Emergency beacons? Distress? Nothing?” Pilot.
“Nothing.” Co-pilot confirmed.
“I mean… they’d be loath to stop shipping ore. Maybe it’s just really comms trouble and they aren’t flying anything right now. Cruiser might be on the far side assisting with some kind of… recovery effort? I don’t know.” Pilot.
“That might be the case…” The co-pilot did not in fact think that was the case. “Resolute, this is Echo two. Uh… do we have any further… mission details? Are we still go on landing? Over.” He sounded nervous. “We’re still go… they think it’s just comms trouble. But they’re prepping more shuttles now for possible rescue or support efforts.”
“I mean everything I’m seeing is clear. Not even rain clouds.” Pilot.
“They’re saying there’s comms failure on the planet. They’ve found automated traffic only. No distress calls.” Mary relayed. A moment later the pilot keyed in a direct channel and she heard the voice through Barrow’s helmet comm.
“Hey eltea. Just a heads up. We think there’s some kind of comms failure on the planet. And maybe a terraforming accident. No signs of hostile action though. Still prepped to land shortly. But uh giving you a heads up.” So they could talk to him but hadn’t.
“Appreciated. I’ll relay.” He acknowledged. Then she had to try and focus a bit harder as Barrow began to speak to his marines about the situation but the flight crew was still chatting.
“Entering atmo now. Any change in sensor reading?” Pilot.
“No. Area around Argyle looks… okay. Wait, that's the city right?” Navigator.
“Yeah. Uh. Maybe.” Pilot. The shuttle began to shake a bit harder though from what she had experienced before this was just normal for entering atmosphere. They were quiet as the shuttle rumbled. But after another minute the rumbling seemed to get worse instead of better. She was much more acutely aware of the groaning of the metal and just shuddering of everything around her. Kingus’ teeth were rattling and clicking especially. “Okay what the fuck.”
“Yeah… Yeah… Uh… fuck.” Co-pilot. What were they seeing? Just describe it outloud!
“I can’t turn it off. Ground has us locked into our corridor.” Navigator.
“Override!” Pilot.
“I can’t! I’m trying!” Navigator. The shuddering of the shuttle intensified further as it seemed to be moving around, like the pilot was trying to shake them out of whatever their path was and kept getting pulled in. “It’s not using any normal code! I’ve got no fucking clue what this is!”
“WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT!” Mary winced at how loudly the Co-pilot yelled that. So far their voices had been full of stress and anxiety, but not fear, nor had they been loud.
“Jesus!” Pilot. What? What was it? “Look at it fucking move! Chaff! Flares! Dump everything!”
“Brace!” Mary cried out as she clutched her harness. She could hear the deployment of flares and chaff in a rapid series of bops and clanks. Then she could hear something hit the shuttle… But it wasn’t an explosion? Just a meaty metal crunch. Her body jerked hard in the harness as the shuttle around her began to spin, or jerk, or she had no idea but it was twisting violently!
“Fuck!” Pilot
“Watch it!” Co-pilot. Red lights immediately came on in the hold of the shuttle, she could hear as well as feel the violent collision as the port wing slammed into something. For a brief instant she could hear the shattering of glass before her hearing was just overwhelmed by the rest of the crash and the screaming around her. The force yanked her hard against the harness as she heard the terrifying screech of metal being pried apart as the hold and the cockpit sections of the shuttle seemed to detach.
Strapped to the jumpseat she could only watch in horror as the marines before her were suddenly spun in a different direction while Barrow and her were tumbling on the now suddenly exposed outside of the cockpit section. She was screaming as loud as her lungs could bear, but he was oddly quiet. As if resigned to their fate. She could see the city spinning around her, and the straps holding her began to give way as they were never intended for this. Barrow reached out and for a moment she reached towards him but then they hit something hard and her body was sent flying free of the seat.
[Continued in Comments]

Revolutions start small. An extra power choice here, some alternate animations or rock guitar sound effects there. And the developers overseeing this being available to talk to. Thunderspy offers you more choices while keeping an eye on game balance. Thunderspy has helped other servers with technical challenges ensuring you have more choices there too. No one on Thunderspy will tell you that you can't look like a trademarked character or how to RP. Come to Thunderspy offers more choices. We're sexy and we know it! https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RHUSh4QuBB0
Economy part 2 picture essay https://imgur.com/a/iWV2TJL
Hello again everyone! This is Agreeable-Teach4496 bringing you up-to-date with changes on the Thunderspy server. This time it's a big topic! Power pools with a side of Anchor Toggles ! Now to do this right I'm going to include tweaks done after the date shown AND some changes done prior.

Power pools

Baseline changes.

• On Thunderspy you can have up to 5 pool powers. This is an increase from the limit of 4 in the base game.
• We also did away with prerequisite power picks. (No more needing to take Boxing if you want Tough or Weave.) Still need to be of correct level though.

Power pool attack changes.

• All power pool attacks reviewed and adjusted to follow damage formulas. Resulting mostly in buffs across the board, but a few got nerfed (Utility belt cone was out of whack.)
• Single target attacks in origin power pools (Sorcery, Gadgetry, Force of Will, Utility Belt, and Experimentation) have been set to 8 second recharge and scale 1.64 damage. Any that had DoT effects have had their DoTs sped up to do the same total damage in half the time.

Fighting pool

• Due to the damage buffs that Boxing, Kick, and Cross Punch have received the synergy buffs were made inherent and are not separately represented.
• New variant powers. Weapon Strike, Weapon Slam, and Weapon Swing allow you to use melee weapons. Customization includes all options available to Broadsword/Axe/Mace.
• Boxing and Kick now have a selection of new animations to choose from taken from Street Justice, Martial Arts, Super Strength, and Savage Melee.

Flight

• Air Superiority. Rebalanced recharge scale from 4 seconds to 8 seconds. (60% Damage/End cost increase.)
• Hover no longer turns off other fly powers. Adjusted Fly speed and removed Fly speed penalties. Added additional defense that deactivates when Weave is active.

Jumping

• Jump Kick. Rebalanced recharge scale from 2.8 seconds to 8 seconds. (63% Damage/End cost increase.)
• Combat Jumping no longer toggles off other Jumping powers, but locks out Intangibility.

Concealment

• Stealth no longer has movement speed penalties and does not detoggle other concealment powers.
• Grant Invisibility is now an AOE power with reduced visual translucency.
• Intangibility now locks out Combat Jumping.
• Phase Shift's Nophase lock out now only applies in PvP.
• Misdirection's cooldown reduced from 4 minutes to 2 minutes.

Experimentation

• Experimental injection cooldown reduced from 3 minutes to 2 minutes.

Leadership

• Victory Rush can now slot Recharge enhancements.

Medicine

• Aid Self cast time reduced from 3.3 seconds to 1 second. 1 second time is still interruptible.
• Aid Other had range increased to 40 feet. Cast time reduced to 1 interruptible second.

Teleportation

• TP Foe removed protection for Player targets.
• Team Teleport recharge reduced from 1.5 seconds to 0.

Anchor Toggles

Spore Cloud, Snow Storm, Radiation Infection, Enervating Field, Darkest Night, Disruption Field

• Effects now activate immediately upon toggling on.
• Effects now linger for 5 seconds after being detoggled.
• Once toggled on they ignore maximum range.
• Most have had their animation time sped up to the lowest possible.
• Older note. On Thunderspy you can place anchor toggles on pets or teammates.

Next time, VEATS!

This fanfic is intended to take place some time around late volume 6, and involves a lot of thoughts I've had on the Antinium and their situation in Liscor. I hope it's enjoyable.
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There were many quirks and oddities that surrounded the Wandering Inn, open secrets that could only be called ‘rumours’ because most didn’t believe them at first. Perhaps ‘attractions’ was a better word, people and connections and events and things that made the place much more than a simple inn. The [Princess] helping manage the place, for instance, who was really quite bad at lying if you caught her by surprise with the question. The [Garden of Sanctuary], which wasn’t open to just any random person who walked in, but they’d at least let you look through the door if you asked. The weight-lifting room, which had a clientele all of its own separate from the inn’s regular group of customers, muscular Drakes and Humans who talked about ‘feeling the burn’ and listed off numbers that were inscrutable to outsiders.
There was one tradition, one kind of event, that was older than most of the others though. Even through the Wandering Inn’s destruction, and then its second destruction, it had persisted. To the regulars of the place, it barely even passed the bar of noteworthiness anymore, because really, what was so special about another band of Antinium visiting the inn?
Still, they came, Workers and Soldiers who had never seen the sky before, newly hatched or older (though almost all of the old ones had been at least once by now), led by Klbkch, just as he had that first time. The task was no longer his responsibility, as most of the Painted Antinium would’ve been capable of handling it, and it seemed like he couldn’t walk in the Hive these days without tripping over more individuals. But when he was off from [Guardsman] duty, and the Free Queen didn’t require his presence, and he was thinking of going up to the inn anyway, well. Even to an old soul like him, there was something charming about watching young Antinium look around in awe, before gobbling down the acid flies they were given so fast they sometimes choked.
Erin came over as he entered with the latest group, mostly Workers this time, and they exchanged greetings. But she quickly went to busy herself with the new arrivals, which was fine by him. He stood and watched as she seated the Workers at their own table and explained the basic concept of a menu to them, how they could choose which of the food items they wanted. One of them asked which was the most nutritionally optimal, and she decided to give up on the menu for a moment and ordered them a large bowl of flies as an appetiser, which was another concept she had to explain.
The inn wasn’t particularly packed today, but most of the tables were occupied, and Klbkch ended up finding himself a seat opposite Menolit. The Drake seemed oddly reserved as he drank from a mug, only glancing up as the Antinium approached.
“May I?”
Menolit nodded, and Klbkch sat down. He caught Ishkr’s eye from across the room, the [Head Waiter] waving to let him know his usual order would arrive soon: A plate stacked with bacon, topped with whatever spices and chilis the kitchen had on hand. It was nice to be in a place where people knew you.
As he waited, he noticed Menolit gazing in Erin’s direction, watching her put the Antinium at ease. Without any prelude, the Drake spoke.
“It really is something. She’s done a lot for you bugs, hasn’t she? Helped you turn over a whole new leaf.”
There was a slight slur to his speech. Only a small dulling on the edges of his words, but still, it was there. Klbkch’s voice was mild and polite as he gave the Drake his attention.
“Erin has indeed been helpful in socialising Workers and Soldiers. We owe much to her.”
“You know, one of your Workers actually apologised for bumping into me the other day. Can’t imagine that happening a few years ago. More likely to stand in the way of a cart and get run over.”
Menolit snorted, before raising the mug to his mouth. Klbkch didn’t react.
“I recall several events of that nature, yes. The rate has thankfully declined.”
“Do you remember, when your Hive first moved in, we thought you’d all crawl out of the sewers and stab us while we slept?”
He spoke as if it was simply an embarrassing misunderstanding, an instance of confusion he looked back on with humour. But he refused to meet the Antinium’s eyes as he drank from his cup once more, and it occurred to Klbkch that he had never really spoken to Menolit much before. The [Veteran] stayed out of trouble, and while they were both regulars of the Wandering Inn, their paths didn’t overlap often.
Many people were interested in talking to the Slayer, the Relevantor of the Free Hive, about the Antinium and their past, and he was used to how such conversations went. He was used to barely-disguised hatred, or curiosity, or the guarded respect one had for a potential enemy. But he wouldn’t have expected such things from the inn’s regular clientele. This felt different.
“I recall. The suspicion was quite understandable, at the time, but I am glad that we are past that now.”
Menolit sighed, pressing his palm into his forehead as he looked down at the wood, idly tapping his cup on its surface. His eyes flicked to Klbkch, then away again to Erin, who was introducing the Antinium to the fun idea of throwing food at each other and catching it in your mouth, with limited success.
“Ten years. Or… just one, really. That’s all it took. The mighty Black Tide…”
He seemed to be half-talking to himself, and Klbkch was unsure if a response was warranted. Thankfully, any awkwardness was rescued when Ishkr came by their table, dropping off the plate of bacon, as well as a small serving of fries for Menolit. He moved without stopping, already turning to attend to another table, until the Drake called him back.
“Another fill-up, Ishkr?” He raised his mug, and the Gnoll frowned for a moment. But he took it anyway, and within a minute it was back in Menolit’s claws, filled with foamy amber liquid.
Nothing but the sound of eating passed between them for a short while, chewing and crunching as they enjoyed the delights of unhealthy cooking. Klbkch estimated that it would be at least half an hour before the Antinium were ready to leave, which left him plenty of time to make his rounds in the inn and get some advice. Liscor’s Watch had recently acquired a collection of chess sets, allegedly to help train more [Tactician]-type classes that the city could use, and the more competitive [Guards] had taken to playing matches against each other. Klbkch liked to figure himself as having a modicum of skill at the game, but when Beilmark had lanced through his formation while losing less than half of her own pieces, he’d had to admit he’d gotten a bit rusty. Perhaps a game or two against Palt, or Pisces, or… probably not Bird, would help refresh his understanding--
Menolit grunted, clearing his throat in that way people did when they wanted to pretend they didn’t have something to say. Klbkch pushed aside his plate, and waited patiently for the question to come.
“You lot came from Rhir, didn’t you?”
“That is correct.”
“I remember hearing about you, decades ago.” Menolit leaned forwards, as if trying to see something in Klbkch’s insectile eyes, before sitting backwards again. “Rumours from returning soldiers, about black-shelled monsters that dug up beneath your feet. I thought they were just stories. You can’t believe half the things you hear about that bloody continent.”
‘Bloody’ was right, Klbkch thought. And half the things he knew would’ve made Menolit fall right out of his chair. Hidden truths worth fighting a war over.
“I believe that many people would do well to give Rhir more attention than it receives.”
“Oh? Why’s that?”
“It is important.”
The Drake waited, until it became apparent that was all Klbkch had to say on the matter. He exhaled with frustration, taking a sip from his cup as he glared at the Antinium. A nearby Drake working under Chaldion lowered his notebook in disappointment.
“While I do not mind conversing with you on trivial matters, I am sure you understand there are certain topics that I am not at liberty to discuss in detail,” Klbkch continued. Menolit rolled his eyes, and his words came out slowly.
“You’ve got a lot of secrets, don’t you. Been living under our tails for the past decade, you’d think we’d know more about you. Don’t even know what your damn Hive looks like.”
Klbkch was once more struck by that odd feeling. It was as if he was a newcomer to the city again, bearing the enmity and distrust of a species on his back. He almost felt… insulted? No, absolutely not, he hadn’t gotten that soft over the last year. But it was certainly bizarre to encounter such a thing in the Wandering Inn. If nothing else, he was surprised that Erin hadn’t thrown Menolit out yet, if he was truly like this. And if not, then where was this coming from?
Klbkch spread his arms reassuringly. “Well, I am right here. Do you have any pressing questions you wish to ask? I promise to be truthful, as long as the answers are not confidential.”
Menolit waved a hand in the air, dismissing Klbkch’s offer as he finished his cup. That was his second drink since Klbkch had come in, and he’d had at least one before that, the Antinium judged. His tongue was looser, now, yet the sense of dancing around what he wanted to talk about was more palpable than ever.
“I was enlisted, you know. In the first war. There was news about you bastards every week, killing Drakes, claiming more of our territory. I served under Sserys. I… wasn’t here, though. When he broke the Tide, turned you back. Stationed at some damn city in the south, too far to help.” He winced at the memory, but the shame was dulled, only there when he focused on it. “I was discharged from the army by the time the second one started. Still would’ve dropped everything and gone off to fight, but for my kids. Barely old enough to hold a coin, back then.”
He sounded shaky, emotional. But Klbkch spoke calmly, trying to put him at ease.
“I am certain your family is thankful, Menolit. It is a tragedy for children to lose their parents.”
“It sure is. But I don’t see how you’d know anything about that.”
Klbkch thought for a moment, before nodding at Menolit.
“That may be true. I am, however, well-versed in warfare. With your experience, you would have been a formidable soldier to face, so as a representative of the Antinium, allow me to thank you for not killing hundreds of our forces.”
The Drake’s face lit up, his frustration vanishing for a moment at the compliment.
“You really think I would’ve done that well? I mean, I reckon I could cut down at least a couple dozen of you buggers before you got me, but hundreds…”
It wasn’t even a lie, if you considered kills over the duration of a campaign, and not a single battle. Klbkch estimated Menolit’s [Veteran] class as being in the low 20’s, which made him more than capable of cutting through any single Worker or Solider. Even against a handful, he would’ve had a good chance. Of course, in a real war the Antinium would never use such small numbers, but that wasn’t worth mentioning.
The two were distracted at that moment, as were others, by an exclamation from Erin. Apparently, she’d just had a brilliant idea for a new invention, running off to grab something as the Antinium waited patiently. The inn held its breath, visitors eager to see what she would come up with this time, wondering what they would get the honour of seeing first, of being able to claim that they were ‘there’ when it happened. The [Innkeeper] returned with a spring in her step, her arms full of as many pillows as she could hold, and she explained her vision in two words.
“Cushioned seats!”
Everyone paused for a moment, before letting out the breath they’d been holding and went back to whatever they were doing. Someone explained to her that they already had those, if not ones you could buy cheaply, which dampened her mood slightly. Nevertheless, she walked back to the Antinium and began giving each one a pillow to sit on.
Menolit laughed, snorts of mirth he failed to stifle. As they came to an end, he shook his head, smiling ruefully.
“It really is something. Just a single Human. Who would’ve thought something like that was possible, before she arrived? You ever think about that, Klbkch? Where we’d still be, if Erin hadn’t mixed everything up?”
“I have considered such a hypothetical. I find it likely the status quo would be largely in it's prior state, though it is hard to imagine what differences there would’ve been in events such as the Humans’ attempt to conquer Liscor.”
“Sure, sure. We’d still be ignoring you in the streets, you’d still be… doing whatever you were doing before. But this is better, isn’t it?”
It was on the tip of Menolit’s tongue, now, something he still didn’t want to say directly. Frankly, Klbkch was getting curious as to just what exactly was burning the Drake up inside.
“Yes, I would say so. It has been a vastly beneficial change to both Liscor and the Hive.”
“It’s just… it makes you think. Makes me think, anyway. Because she’s, she’s special, that’s obvious.” He gestured at Erin, trying to encapsulate what she was and failing. He turned back to Klbkch, and his voice became quiet as he addressed the Antinium. “But… she didn’t have to be, did she?”
Menolit quickly raised his cup, staring at its emptiness for a moment before letting it slump back to the table.
“What do you mean?” Klbkch was almost certain he knew. But he wanted to be sure.
“She gave you food, and talked to you, and taught you chess. That’s all anyone could tell me.”
“And that was enough,” Klbkch said simply. Menolit’s face fell.
“There were no secrets? No…” He searched for words, groping for what he wanted to be the truth. “No rituals? No special key to fixing you?”
Klbkch stared at the Drake, who grew increasingly uncomfortable in his seat. Finally, the Antinium spoke, drawing out his words slowly.
“Is it strange to you that we respond well to kindness and understanding?”
Menolit shifted in place, gripping the table with his claws hard enough to leave marks. When he finally met the Antinium’s gaze, he smiled, as if his internal struggle had finally been resolved.
“I guess not. Maybe that’s what we should’ve done. Just invited you to have a tea party, gossiped about the neighbours, gave you some… soft chairs.” He laughed again, a throaty chuckle that transitioned to a cough part way through, before he spoke again. “That’s all it would’ve taken, eh, Klbkch? Tea and crumpets, like the [Ladies] do it?”
The Antinium stayed silent, but Menolit didn’t stop, standing up from his chair as his voice began to rise.
“Well it sure would’ve been nice to know that! Could’ve avoided a whole bloody war, if only we’d been nice, hah! Doesn’t that say a lot about Drakes? It was our fault for being bastards! Dead gods, of course it was!”
He slapped his forehead theatrically, as if stunned at the enormity of this realisation. People at nearby tables were starting to look over, and it wouldn’t be long before someone drew Erin’s attention. Quickly, Klbkch got to his feet, placing a hand on the Drake’s shoulder.
“I believe you have had too much to drink, Menolit. It would not do well for you to make a scene.”
The [Veteran] froze, though Klbkch hadn’t activated any Skills. He looked around the room, like he was just now noticing his fellow eaters’ presence. His breathing slowed, and he stepped back, wobbling slightly before catching his feet.
“Of course. Of course.” He grinned at the Antinium. “Good old [Guardsman] Klbkch, always there to keep the peace. Don’t you worry, sir. I’ll make sure this unruly fellow gets home before causing any trouble.”
Carefully, he turned to go, and the little bubble of silence that had surrounded them eroded as nearby people started up their conversations once more. But he muttered something under his breath as he left, bitter words Klbkch couldn’t help hearing.
“If you were people this whole damn time, why did you act like monsters…”
Slowly, Klbkch returned to his seat, finishing up the bacon that still remained on his plate. It didn’t taste quite as good, anymore.
He could understand Menolit’s feelings. Because indeed, the Antinium had been monsters, a scourge plaguing the lands of Izril, slaughtering the Drakes without mercy, without even communicating any terms beyond the message their destruction left behind. That had been the plan.
And it still was, in a sense. Not one they were actively pursuing right now. But every Hive, even the Free Queen’s, had a plan of action in place for if they decided that a war was the best course of action. Liscor knew this, and the Hive knew Liscor knew this, and it would be a short and bloody chess match if either side ever decided to move first. Despite that, people trusted the Antinium in their streets, and slept soundly with tunnels beneath their homes, and Klbkch liked that. He had little against Drakes personally, and would’ve contested the notion of an all-out war, if it had been put forward by one of the other Hives.
If, on the other hand, his kin in Rhir sent more forces? A fully-trained [Queen], another Centenium, even just Workers capable of forming a proper Unistasis Network might tip the balance against the Drakes. And if the order came to conquer Izril and transform it into the Hivelands, then he would lead the Black Tide once more, from the South to the North, until either New Landing or him had finally fallen. Because Rhir was important, and what they had to do there mattered more than anything else, and that was all there was to it. All of this-- and Klbkch looked around the inn, Liscor, his life for the two decades-- all of this, was just a distraction. Busywork. An attempt for shipwrecked Antinium to do something that might one day be actually helpful in their real fight. They’d tried taking over, and when the Drakes had proven too tough, they’d stopped, and it wouldn’t have made much of a difference whether they’d been welcomed with open arms or hunted down from the first sighting.
If a second fleet did come to pass, though, he’d still argue for an exception. The Painted Antinium, Pawn’s… religion, these were genuine developments, evidence demonstrating the potential that could result from cohabiting with a friendly populace. But Liscor would never, ever, go along with it, and the mental picture felt wrong, unable to exist in reality. What Drake could possibly tolerate the rest of their species being overrun and slain, allowed to live in a single city so long as they kept having ‘interesting interactions’ with their new [Lords]? Every Drake he knew would rather fight, than let themselves be reduced to mere pets. And so they would die.
A memory rose unbidden in Klbkch’s mind, of Relc winking at him, and the Antinium flinched, before relaxing once more. He didn’t think about such things often, even if they were always held in the back of his mind. It was… unpleasant. Relc and Erin had never asked questions along such lines, and he hoped they never would.
Looking over, Klbkch saw the young Antinium sitting on their pillows, pouring over the menu that finally made sense to them. The [Innkeeper] was there, answering their questions (she’d apparently told them to raise their hands when they had something to ask, which had led to a short arms-race of one, then two, then three, then all four limbs being raised as they tried to get her attention first). But that wasn’t all. One member of the group had wandered over to sit with Olesm, who was explaining the rules to a game that astonishingly, wasn’t chess. Another, shorter one (some error in the birthing pod had stunted his growth, though he was still as strong as a regular Worker) was rolling a ball back and forth with Mrsha and a Drake child Klbkch didn’t recall the name of.
He would agree in a heartbeat that Erin was special. The closest person he knew to her was Xrn, and Erin was not like Xrn. But there had been something to Menolit’s words, Klbkch felt. Because if she had never arrived in Liscor, if things had gone on the way they had been, he could still imagine that years in the future, perhaps there would’ve been a young Drake with open-minded parents, who hadn’t witnessed the Antinium Wars herself. Who’d seen the ants working in the streets, and met the nice and friendly [Guardsman] Klbkch. And maybe one day, she’d have given them food, and talked to them, and played some kind of game with them, and it all would’ve happened anyway, if a little differently.
Or maybe not. Drakes could be bastards, after all. Still, he liked to believe something along those lines, or else he never would’ve come to Liscor in the first place.
Standing from his seat, he went to pay for both his and Menolit’s orders, before going off to find a chess set. Beilmark wouldn’t know what hit her.
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(Truthfully, I doubt Menolit would actually say the kinds of things he does here. But I do think there would be some Drakes who think along these lines, after spending time in the Wandering Inn.)

Alone, in a cold, dark cave on the outskirts of the world's filthiest city, a mysterious cloaked figure sat with his legs crossed, facing a brightly lit fire. The cave was shrouded in an eerie silence, broken only by the monotonous chants in an ancient language that echoed throughout the chamber, creating the illusion of multiple voices chanting in unison. The figure, lost in a trance, paid tribute to the God of Death, his voice blending with the flickering flames.
However, amidst the ethereal atmosphere, a faint sound of approaching footsteps reached the cloaked figure's ears. The rhythmic beat of at least four pairs of feet grew louder and faster, signalling the imminent arrival of intruders. The figure's keen senses alerted him to the impending danger, and he instinctively reached for the concealed dagger hidden within his sleeve. Though he continued his chant, he prepared himself for the impending confrontation.
As the mysterious figure's eyes remained focused on the flickering fire, two soldiers burst into the cave, their battle cries filling the air. The first attacker, wielding his sword with a clumsy grip, proved no match for the cloaked man's swift and precise movements. In one fluid motion, the figure swiftly drew his blade and sliced the throat of his assailant, silencing him forever.
Caught off guard by the cloaked man's speed and accuracy, the second attacker hesitated for a split second. Sensing an opportunity, he lunged forward, attempting to strike the figure with his sword. However, it was to no avail. The cloaked man swiftly retaliated, delivering a powerful kick to the attacker's stomach, sending him sprawling to the ground. Without mercy, the figure threw his dagger, piercing the heart of his fallen enemy.
As the lifeless body of the first attacker lay sprawled across the shrine, his arms outstretched, a chilling curse escaped his dying lips. "Curse thee, Andr!" he gargled, his blood mixing with his final breaths. Ignoring his first victim's futile curse, Andr, the cloaked barbarian monk, turned his attention to the wounded second attacker.
With a twisted blend of anger and determination, Andr demanded answers. "Who hired you? Speak, or I shall make your death slow and agonizing," he snarled. Gripping the handle of his dagger, he twisted the blade within the man's chest, eliciting screams of agony. Blood trickled down the dying man's chin as he begged for mercy. "I don't know his name," he gasped. "He was an old man with dark eyes. He paid us 50 pieces of gold for your death and another 50 for your head, delivered in a sack."
A mumble escaped the dying man's lips, but Andr could not decipher his final words. The man's eyes rolled back, and he succumbed to death's embrace. Overwhelmed with rage, Andr dragged the lifeless body to the altar, kicking the first attacker's corpse out of his path. "God of Death, accept this offering as a sign of my dedication," he bellowed, his voice reverberating through the cave. "In light of this betrayal, I shall become the envy of your followers. I vow to claim the head of every man who dares stand in my path."
Placing the fallen attacker upon the altar, Andr reached for one of their swords. With a swift motion, he severed the head from the lifeless body. Holding it triumphantly, he placed the severed head alongside the first attacker's on the shrine. The pungent smell of blood and incense filled the cave, an offering to The God of Death himself. Surely, the deity would be pleased with Andr's unwavering devotion.
Finally, Andr settled himself upon the cold cave floor, crossing his legs, and resumed chanting the solemn song of death. The cave seemed to tremble with his words as he vowed to carry out his grisly mission. In the darkness, bathed in the flickering glow of the fire, Andr embraced the path he had chosen, prepared to strike fear into the hearts of those who would dare cross his path. The God of Death had found a worthy disciple in the mysterious cloaked figure known as Andr, the harbinger of doom.
As the echoes of Andr's chants reverberated through the cavern, an otherworldly presence seemed to fill the air. The flickering flames cast dancing shadows upon the shrine, as if the God of Death himself was awakening to the devoted offerings. Andr's mind was consumed by a mixture of bloodlust and zeal, a dangerous cocktail that fueled his every action.
In the depths of his trance, visions flashed before Andr's closed eyes. He saw the faces of those who had wronged him, those who had dared to mark him for death. Their images intertwined with the swirling darkness, intertwining with the flickering fire. The whispered promises of power and vengeance echoed within his mind, urging him onward.
Andr rose from his seated position, his cloak billowing around him like a shroud of darkness. With the severed heads of his attackers still resting upon the shrine, he felt an insatiable hunger for more. His steps were swift and purposeful as he exited the cave, leaving the chilling stillness behind.
His journey took him through the grimy streets of the filthiest city, where the stench of decay hung heavy in the air. The city's denizens, ignorant of the brewing storm, went about their wretched lives, oblivious to the impending darkness that followed Andr's footsteps. He moved with the grace of a predator, his every movement exuding an aura of danger.
Word of Andr's merciless acts began to spread like wildfire through the city's underbelly. Whispers and rumours carried tales of a cloaked figure, an agent of death, who sought retribution against those who had sought to end his life. Fear grew in the hearts of those who heard these tales, their guilty consciences turning their own shadows into menacing spectres.
In the depths of the night, Andr's path led him to the doorstep of an old tavern, a haven for corruption and vice. Its patrons, a motley crew of thieves, cutthroats, and informants, were caught off guard by the cloaked figure's sudden arrival. Eyes widened and conversations ceased as they caught sight of Andr, his eyes gleaming with a glint of madness.
Without uttering a word, Andr lunged forward with his blade, striking down one adversary after another. The room erupted into chaos as screams of agony pierced the air. The tavern became a battlefield, a frenzy of violence and desperation. Andr moved with a deadly precision, his strikes finding their mark with unerring accuracy.
The night wore on as Andr left behind a trail of bloodshed and terror. Each life he claimed added fuel to the flames of his vengeful purpose. He became a ghostly legend, a boogeyman haunting the nightmares of those who heard his name whispered in the dark.
But amidst the chaos, a shadowy figure watched from the sidelines, his dark eyes burning with a mix of fascination and admiration. The old man who had orchestrated Andr's demise had been following his every move, a spectator to the symphony of death. The old man knew that he had created a monster, but he reveled in the chaos it unleashed.
As Andr's rampage continued, he became increasingly consumed by his bloodlust. The line between avenger and executioner blurred, until he became nothing more than a force of destruction, leaving devastation in his wake. The old man's plan had worked beyond his wildest expectations.
However, unbeknownst to Andr, his actions had not gone unnoticed by a clandestine group known as the Order of Balance. This organization believed in maintaining equilibrium in the world, ensuring that the forces of life and death remained in harmonious balance. They recognized the threat Andr posed, and they set their sights on ending his reign of terror.
And so, as Andr reveled in his gruesome dance of death, the Order of Balance prepared to confront him. Their agents, skilled in the arts of both combat and mysticism, gathered their forces, knowing that they would face a formidable opponent. For they understood that to restore balance, they would have to confront the embodiment of unbridled darkness that was Andr, the harbinger of doom.
And so, the stage was set for a confrontation that would shake the foundations of the filthiest city and test the very fabric of existence. A battle between light and shadow, life and death, that would determine the fate of all who dwelt within the city's decaying walls. In the midst of it all stood Andr, a figure of merciless fury, his destiny entwined with the God of Death himself.
As the forces of the Order of Balance prepared for the inevitable clash, whispers of their impending arrival reached Andr's ears. Rumours of powerful warriors, skilled in both martial and arcane arts, sent shivers down the spines of those who dared to speak Andr's name. The stage was set for a cataclysmic confrontation, and Andr could not help but feel a flicker of anticipation amidst his insatiable hunger for vengeance.
The fateful day arrived, and the city's grimy streets became the battleground for the ultimate struggle. The cloaked figure known as Andr, surrounded by an aura of darkness, stood at the heart of it all, ready to face the consequences of his blood-soaked path.
The agents of the Order of Balance, clad in garments of purity and wielding weapons forged from light itself, advanced towards Andr with a solemn determination. They moved in perfect harmony, their steps synchronizing with the beating of their collective heart, a testament to their unwavering unity.
Andr's eyes narrowed as he beheld his adversaries. There was no fear within him, only a smouldering fire fueled by the lives he had taken. He welcomed the challenge, for in his twisted perception, it validated his purpose, his devotion to the God of Death.
With a thunderous clash, the forces collided, the clash of steel and the crackle of arcane energies echoing through the streets. Andr moved with a savage grace, his movements like a deadly dance, as he unleashed his wrath upon the agents of balance. He fought with a ferocity born from his own personal demons, every strike fuelled by his insatiable desire to avenge the betrayal he had suffered.
But the agents of the Order were not easily swayed. They fought with unwavering discipline, their resolve unwavering. They channelled the forces of light and life, their blades emitting a radiant glow that clashed against Andr's shadowy aura. Blow after blow, spell after spell, the battle raged on, an epic struggle between two opposing forces.
As the clash continued, Andr's cloak was torn, his body marked by the scars of the encounter. But he pressed on, his determination unyielding, for he believed that the God of Death would reward his unwavering devotion with victory.
Yet, unbeknownst to Andr, a truth had been concealed from him. The God of Death was not merely a patron of destruction and chaos. The God of Death also symbolized the cyclical nature of life, the inevitability of transformation and rebirth. And it was this truth that the Order of Balance sought to restore in their battle against Andr.
The tides of the conflict began to turn, as the agents of balance tapped into their inner reservoirs of strength and harmony. Their attacks became more precise, their spells infused with an ethereal brilliance that pushed back the encroaching darkness.
Sensing the shifting balance, Andr's eyes widened with a mixture of rage and disbelief. The embodiment of death itself had forsaken him, turning its gaze upon the forces that sought to restore equilibrium. In a final act of defiance, Andr unleashed all his remaining fury, his strikes growing more desperate, fueled by a madness that threatened to consume him entirely.
But the agents of the Order held fast, their unity unbroken. They channelled the very essence of the world, the delicate balance between life and death. And with a final surge of collective strength, they incapacitated Andr, binding him in chains of mystic energy.
As the cloaked figure stood restrained before them, a mixture of rage, defeat, and realization flashed across Andr's eyes. In that moment, he understood that his quest for vengeance had led him astray, that his devotion to the God of Death had been a twisted obsession that had consumed his very being.
The agents of the Order of Balance, now surrounded by an air of solemnity, approached Andr with a mixture of compassion and resolve. They knew that his journey did not end with his capture, for there was still a chance for redemption, a chance for Andr to rediscover his place within the delicate tapestry of existence.
And so, they brought Andr to a place of reflection, a sanctuary of serenity where he could confront the darkness within himself. Guided by the agents of balance, he embarked on a journey of self-discovery, seeking to reconcile the chaos that had driven him with the harmony that was his birthright.
It was a path fraught with challenges and internal battles, but Andr, once the harbinger of doom, embraced the opportunity for redemption. In the depths of his soul, he yearned to break free from the chains that bound him, to find a new purpose that transcended the boundaries of life and death.
And thus, the cloaked figure known as Andr, who had once spilled blood in the name of vengeance, began a new chapter. With the guidance of the Order of Balance, he embarked on a journey of self-redemption, seeking to restore the equilibrium he had so fervently disrupted.
The filthiest city, once plagued by darkness and despair, witnessed a glimmer of hope as Andr's story spread. It became a tale of transformation, a testament to the human capacity for growth and change. And as the city began to heal, the God of Death, observing from the shadows, silently acknowledged the lessons learned and the balance restored.
Andr, once a harbinger of doom, now stood as a guardian of equilibrium, a beacon of light within the depths of darkness. His journey was far from over, but he walked it with newfound purpose, his steps echoing with the resounding harmony of life and death entwined.
In the wake of his transformation, Andr emerged as a symbol of redemption and balance in the filthiest city. His actions inspired others to seek harmony within themselves and strive for a better existence. He became a mentor, guiding those who were lost, helping them find their own paths of redemption and self-discovery.
Together with the Order of Balance, Andr worked tirelessly to cleanse the city of its darkest elements. They dismantled criminal networks, bringing justice to those who had once thrived in the shadows. Under Andr's guidance, the city began to shed its reputation as a den of filth, gradually transforming into a place of hope and renewal.
But Andr's newfound purpose extended beyond the boundaries of the city. News of his redemption spread far and wide, reaching distant lands where despair and imbalance reigned. Travelling to these troubled regions, Andr became a beacon of light, challenging the forces of darkness and inspiring others to seek their own paths of equilibrium.
Through his teachings and actions, Andr instilled in others the understanding that life and death were intertwined, two sides of the same cosmic cycle. He emphasized the importance of embracing both aspects, for only by recognizing the beauty and inevitability of death could one fully appreciate the preciousness of life.
Years passed, and Andr's name became synonymous with balance and redemption. His tale transcended time and space, echoing through generations as a testament to the power of change and the resilience of the human spirit. Legends and songs were woven around his deeds, celebrating his journey from harbinger of doom to a champion of equilibrium.
Andr himself grew older, his hair touched by grey and his steps marked by the weight of his experiences. As he approached the twilight of his own life, he knew that his time in this mortal realm was drawing to a close. Yet, he was at peace, for he had fulfilled his purpose, leaving behind a legacy that would continue to shape the world long after he was gone.
On the eve of his final journey, Andr gathered those who had been touched by his teachings. He spoke to them of the importance of embracing balance, of cherishing every moment, and of the infinite possibilities that awaited beyond the veil of death. With his last breath, Andr imparted his final words of wisdom, his voice carrying the wisdom of a life well-lived.
And then, Andr closed his eyes, his body returning to the embrace of the earth. But his spirit lived on, woven into the fabric of existence, forever a reminder that even in the darkest of times, redemption and balance could be found.
And so, the legacy of Andr, the cloaked figure who had journeyed from the depths of darkness to the pinnacle of enlightenment, lived on. His story continued to inspire countless souls, guiding them toward their own paths of redemption and harmony. And as long as his tale was remembered, the world would carry within it the seeds of equilibrium, forever striving for the delicate balance between life and death.

Original Prompt: [WP] Wizards get to name their spells if they create new ones. The Council isn’t too happy about you naming your spells stuff like “No U”, “F-Off”, & “Die Beach”! Your spells are magnificent, but your language is ‘foul’ in their eyes (link)
I stood in my finest robe, before the Grand Council of Magical Spellcraft. One of their members had retired recently, and they'd been looking for a new member, so being here filled me with feelings of both nervousness and excitement.
"Miss Lynx, as one of the most prolific spellcrafters of our age, you seem like you would be a natural fit for our ranks. However, we have... concerns over your recent conduct," Grand Magi Maria the Gray said. She also happened to be the only member of the council who was actually able to communicate with me. Three of the members were absent, one of the seats was unoccupied, and the two non-Maria members who were there were Cassiopeia, who was mute, and Torvald, who was asleep.
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"You have proven to be far and above one of the most prolific spellcasters of your generation, and ordinarily this would make the decision of whether to invite you into our circle an easy one..." Maria said.
"Thank you, ma'am," I said, excitedly shifting my posture on the balls of my feet.
"But! Your nomenclature leaves something to be desired," she said, finishing her previous statement.
"What? What's wrong with the names I come up with?" I asked.
"Well, let's start with your first published spell in this year, which you have decided to call 'No, you!'" she said. "Despite the name, it does not appear to involve any sort of reflection properties, magical or otherwise."
"Oh, that's because it's not 'No, you!', it's 'No U', as in 'no utility'," I said. "The effects of the spell are strange and unreliable, so I wanted to name it accordingly."
"So you decided to publish a spell that had no use? If I didn't know better, I'd suspect you'd done it just to run up your numbers," Maria said.
"Hey! There's a very interesting string of arcana in that spell that I think is worth documenting and exploring in more detail! Just because this one spell might not be totally helpful right off the bat doesn't mean I'm being dishonest!" I said, the offense audible in my voice.
"Indeed, we are hardly planning to call you a fraud, Miss Lynx. However, it does bring us to the wider issue. Can you tell us about your spell 'F-Off'?" she asked.
"You mean the actual defense spell? It repels projectiles and fire-based magic, so I called it 'Fire-Off', or 'F-off' for short," I said. I didn't mention the amusing feature of causing the deflected objects to go flipping in different directions, or the fact that my nickname for the spell was "Flip off", because I thought it might be in bad taste.
"And I assume you saw no problem with that, much like your spell 'Die, Beach!'," she said.
"Look, I don't know what sort of name you were expecting from a spell that raises water levels. Telling the beach that it's going to die just seems like the natural place to go," I said.
"You could easily have just named it 'Elevate water table', it doesn't exactly sound like a spell that will need to be cast often. But let's presume that it was necessary, what sort of fanciful madness compelled you to name your newest creation 'Burn this Mother F-er down'?" Maria asked.
"I mean, sometimes you've just got to burn a mother f-er down, you know? Fire from the heavens and all that," I said.
Maria didn't respond, she just pinched the bridge of her nose. In hindsight, "Fire from the heavens" probably would've been a more pragmatic name for that spell.
"Miss Lynx, I think we've heard enough. You will not be taking a seat on the council this day," Maria said.
"What? But I've created over twenty new spells this year alone! A few bad names can't possibly be that big a problem compared to the good all this new magic could bring-" I said, hurriedly attempting to make a last-ditch argument.
As it happened, Maria wasn't finished talking. She continued, "...However, I am aware that Torvald was planning to retire in a few months, so if you clean up your act before then, I'm sure you'll be a shoo-in when that selection comes around. It was a stiff competition this time around, but there likely won't be enough time for anyone to get close to your level before then. Provided, of course, that you are... sensible."
"...Okay," I said.
"You're dismissed, Miss Lynx," Maria said.
I turned to leave, and quietly pulled out my notebook. My next project was a spell that caused a peculiar golden ichor to rain from the sky, one that could be used as fertilizer to improve crop productivity. With a stroke of my pen, I struck out the words "Golden shower" from the top of the page, and jotted down my new working title of "summon weird gold goo".
I could already tell this was going to be annoying, but getting the opportunity to write the rules of magic myself would make it all worthwhile.