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flauntpage · 8 years ago

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Pettis vs Poirier: A Strange, Bloody, Exhilarating Fight

Conor McGregor is the most powerful promotional force in mixed martial arts. The only other thing any promoter has found that even comes close is nostalgia. This week, Bellator announced an eight-man heavyweight tournament containing only a couple real heavyweights, and only a couple fighters who weren’t thoroughly washed-up. Not to be outdone, Rizin Fighting Federation announced the return of Mirko Cro Cop (age 43) against Tsuyoshi Kohsaka (47).

This is not to pretend that the UFC isn’t just as bad. Over the weekend, it held an event in Norfolk, Virginia, packed to the rafters with recognizable names, albeit ones that ranged from fighters in the twilight of their careers to those simply waiting for someone to take away their licenses.

Andrei Arlovski was there, 18 years and 40 fights into his career, having been starched outright ten times. Yes, one in every four times Arlovski steps into the cage, he’s getting laid out, and now the UFC are actively hiding him from even the permissive Nevada State Commission. Arlovski snapped a five-fight losing streak in a flaccid slog against an opponent who decided to roll his Reebok shorts up into a nappy.

via imgur

Co-headlining the card was the ghost of Diego Sanchez, who was promptly laid out by a vicious elbow from Matt Brown. But breaking through the gloom was the main event between Dustin Poirier and Anthony Pettis. The two world-class lightweights put on a blood and guts brawl that was worth the price of admission but leaves the two men on very different paths.

Dustin Poirier has been undergoing a career makeover in recent months. Ditching the goatee and growing his hair back has turned him from an extra in American History X to one of MMA’s most dashing fighters. More than that, Poirier’s game has been getting smoother as well. The wooden banger who got wobbled by Akira Corassani, and who stood like a deer in headlights in front of Conor McGregor, seems a hundred miles away from this more relaxed, confident Poirier. Rather than getting his hands up high and standing straight in front of his man (as got him caught against McGregor), Poirier now carries his hands lower and moves his head and hides behind his shoulders much better. That’s not to say he’s perfect, but now he’s finding openings for the punching power he's always had, as opposed to simply running in alternating hands. A couple of his counter punches against Eddie Alvarez were beautifully placed.

The story on Anthony Pettis has always been that he likes space to work. Rarely doing much in combinations, Pettis’s lightning-fast body and high kicks are his best weapon standing, but they become much harder to even attempt when his opponent crowds him by the fence. Rafael dos Anjos demonstrated this when he took the lightweight title from Pettis, battering him in the process. Eddie Alvarez had less success but still shut Pettis down by pinning his hips to the fence. Sure enough, Dustin Poirier came out, jabbed and pressured Pettis toward the cage, then changed level and drove Pettis’s hips into the fence.

Much of Pettis’s best work through his career has come from his guard. Very few fighters in modern MMA threaten submissions quite as effectively from the bottom. In some ways, Pettis’s bottom game is a throwback—many fighters rely instead on using the fence to work their way up as quickly as possible. Against most fighters it is advantageous to drag them away from the cage to lessen their chances of getting up, but the triangle/armbar-centric closed guard is far harder to work when crumpled up against the fence. To get a better look at that, it is well worth watching Frankie Edgar’s one-way beating of Yair Rodriguez earlier in the year. Rodriguez works a frantic pace throwing up submissions from his back, but with Edgar driving his head into the fence and stacking his hips he could do nothing.

Pettis made a good go of threatening triangle chokes, even when he needed to throw his legs almost above his head to attempt them, but Poirier's positioning and pressure made it difficult to finish. Pettis showed he wasn’t just a submission threat, though, when he worked in a knee shield to kick Poirier out to his feet, then hit a gorgeous tripod sweep.

The tripod sweep is one of the classics of jiu jitsu but it hasn’t stopped working if the opponent doesn’t mind his manners. Gripping one ankle, the fighter looks to get his foot on the same side hip—this is the part that the top man should be preventing. Once the foot is on the hip the balance can be affected with a thrust of the leg, so the free leg goes behind the opponent’s knee or ankle and he has no way to step as his center of gravity is pushed off his base. Pettis, his younger brother Sergio, and Bellator middleweight Gegard Mousasi have all used this technique well over the years because they are also good at threatening opponents with the up-kick, which can distract from the simple prerequisites of the sweep.

As the two returned to the feet, Poirier pressured Pettis toward the fence and closed the first round out with a lovely flurry which highlighted his aforementioned growth. Looping shots drew Pettis’s forearms out, then linear shots came down the middle and vice versa. The whole thing started with a lovely step-in, lead uppercut. Of all the basic punches, the lead uppercut is the one you see used effectively the least. More often, it occupies a spot as a sort of corkscrew uppercut, thrusting in from under the opponent to raise his head for a straight. Far rarer to see it used as a classical, close-range punch as Poirier did here and as Alexis Arguello used to do so masterfully.

Pettis showed sparks of his famed creativity on the feet. We’re a few years removed from a cage-assisted kick or knee, but he’s still got some interesting looks. Taking a two-on-one grip on Poirier’s right wrist along the fence, Pettis looked to land a high kick on the undefended side. Poirier was wise to this and initially attempted to circle away from the kick before stepping in to swing with his free hand while both of Pettis’s hands were occupied. A two-handed wrist control isn’t commonly seen in the standing clinch in MMA, but Jon Jones was able to use it to set up takedowns, elbows, and body punches against Daniel Cormier and Glover Teixeira. It remains one of those untapped areas of MMA that should see some more detailed exploration in the coming years.

The general rule on fighting in the opponent’s guard is "both hands in, both hands out." Situations where only one arm is inside the opponent’s guard are where the triangle becomes a threat. But with Pettis’s hips caged against the fence, Poirier was able to drop an elbow with his threatened arm and split the former lightweight champion open at the eye. A very unusual position to expect a strike from, and it happened to snicker-snack Pettis’s skin in just the right way. The swatch of blood Pettis left across the canvas in his brief moments on his knees hinted at the severity of this cut.

After taking this elbow, Pettis rolled to his front and Poirier moved to take his back. Taking the back concedes basically all meaningful striking options in order to pursue one very well-telegraphed submission attempt. If an opponent still has the wherewithal to handfight, he gets a break from the beating. Randy Couture knocked Tim Sylvia flat on his rump in the first round of their title fight, hopped on his back, and spent the next four minutes doing nothing while Big Tim recovered his wits.

One of the odd quirks of Anthony Pettis, however, is that he excels from what is considered one of the worst positions in the game—no matter who gets on his back, Pettis seems able to draw that fighter's arm over his head and turn back into him, winding up in his guard. He gave his back to Charles Oliveira, the lightweight division’s best submission artist, on no less than half a dozen occasions and spun back into Oliveira’s guard every time. This weekend’s fight was no different: Even when reeling from blows and blinded by his own blood, Pettis quickly spun back into Poirier’s guard.

After Pettis got off some elbows of his own from Poirier’s guard, the fight took place in spurts of slick rolling madness as each man struggled to keep control of his opponent and keep a hold of his advantages. The next time Poirier was able to take Pettis’s back, he attempted to take top position rather than get bogged down in the handfight and allow Pettis to spin back into his guard again. As he came up on top of Pettis, his legs still locked in a figure four, Pettis tapped out, allegedly to a broken rib.

It was a cracking fight with an unfortunately anticlimactic ending, but it showed how much Poirier has improved. The question of whether Anthony Pettis still "has it" is one that has dogged him since he lost the title. He went from a streak of spectacular victories to record with more misses than hits, but showings against men like Charles Oliveira and Jim Miller remind us what a force he can be when he is allowed to fight his preferred sort of contest. A record of 2-5 in his last seven fights is undeniably a problem and says that either something of Pettis has left him, or that his shortcomings are far too well known and he must learn some new tricks.

In the aftermath of this fight, Poirier remarked that it was a broken man and not a broken rib that brought about the submission. Unless Pettis can turn it around for at least a couple fights on the trot, that quip could wind up haunting him.

Check out Jack’s website and extended video previews at FightPrimer.com and follow him on Twitter @JackSlackMMA.

Pettis vs Poirier: A Strange, Bloody, Exhilarating Fight published first on http://ift.tt/2pLTmlv

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amtushinfosolutionspage · 8 years ago

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Pettis vs Poirier: A Strange, Bloody, Exhilarating Fight

via imgur

Dustin Poirier has been undergoing a career makeover in recent months. Ditching the goatee and growing his hair back has turned him from an extra in American History X to one of MMA’s most dashing fighters. More than that, Poirier’s game has been getting smoother as well. The wooden banger who got wobbled by Akira Corassani, and who stood like a deer in headlights in front of Conor McGregor, seems a hundred miles away from this more relaxed, confident Poirier. Rather than getting his hands up high and standing straight in front of his man (as got him caught against McGregor), Poirier now carries his hands lower and moves his head and hides behind his shoulders much better. That’s not to say he’s perfect, but now he’s finding openings for the punching power he’s always had, as opposed to simply running in alternating hands. A couple of his counter punches against Eddie Alvarez were beautifully placed.

Pettis made a good go of threatening triangle chokes, even when he needed to throw his legs almost above his head to attempt them, but Poirier’s positioning and pressure made it difficult to finish. Pettis showed he wasn’t just a submission threat, though, when he worked in a knee shield to kick Poirier out to his feet, then hit a gorgeous tripod sweep.

The general rule on fighting in the opponent’s guard is “both hands in, both hands out.” Situations where only one arm is inside the opponent’s guard are where the triangle becomes a threat. But with Pettis’s hips caged against the fence, Poirier was able to drop an elbow with his threatened arm and split the former lightweight champion open at the eye. A very unusual position to expect a strike from, and it happened to snicker-snack Pettis’s skin in just the right way. The swatch of blood Pettis left across the canvas in his brief moments on his knees hinted at the severity of this cut.

One of the odd quirks of Anthony Pettis, however, is that he excels from what is considered one of the worst positions in the game—no matter who gets on his back, Pettis seems able to draw that fighter’s arm over his head and turn back into him, winding up in his guard. He gave his back to Charles Oliveira, the lightweight division’s best submission artist, on no less than half a dozen occasions and spun back into Oliveira’s guard every time. This weekend’s fight was no different: Even when reeling from blows and blinded by his own blood, Pettis quickly spun back into Poirier’s guard.

It was a cracking fight with an unfortunately anticlimactic ending, but it showed how much Poirier has improved. The question of whether Anthony Pettis still “has it” is one that has dogged him since he lost the title. He went from a streak of spectacular victories to record with more misses than hits, but showings against men like Charles Oliveira and Jim Miller remind us what a force he can be when he is allowed to fight his preferred sort of contest. A record of 2-5 in his last seven fights is undeniably a problem and says that either something of Pettis has left him, or that his shortcomings are far too well known and he must learn some new tricks.

Check out Jack’s website and extended video previews at FightPrimer.com and follow him on Twitter @JackSlackMMA.

Pettis vs Poirier: A Strange, Bloody, Exhilarating Fight syndicated from http://ift.tt/2ug2Ns6

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usnewsaggregator-blog · 8 years ago

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Abdul-Jabbar honored at Ellis Island, advocates for open borders

New Post has been published on https://usnewsaggregator.com/abdul-jabbar-honored-at-ellis-island-advocates-for-open-borders/

Abdul-Jabbar honored at Ellis Island, advocates for open borders

Kareem Abdul-Jabbar strides aboard Miss New York, a vessel in the Statue Cruises fleet, via a ramp on the southern edge of Battery Park’s waterfront in the harbor. He is 70 now, standing 7-foot-2 and eyeing stable ground. He abhors a crowd, and dips his head inside, searching for an open seat and grabbing hold of a white pole to keep his balance. Orange life jackets are stored in the ceiling above as he negotiates the deck. The ship pitches back and forth. Waves crash; wind blows.

“We just need a seat, nothing with a view,” says Deborah Morales, his manager.

Abdul-Jabbar, flanked by family, settles onto an aluminum bench by the front of the second deck. He looks out at Governor’s Island in the distance, noting a previous trip to his son, Adam. Jazz plays. Abdul-Jabbar taps his foot in tune. He holds onto a rail with both hands as the boat departs for Ellis Island, where he is to be honored. The master of the skyhook steps outside in the rear to pose for photos, the city’s downtown skyline at his back. Once the ferry docks, Abdul-Jabbar enters the baggage room inside the old immigration center. He fumbles for his credential as heads turn. He presses the pockets in his charcoal suit jacket. His eyes grow wide.

“Do I need my pass?” he says.

Clearance is given. A park ranger leads the group to the second floor. Abdul-Jabbar wears eyeglasses in retirement; his goatee is all gray. A New York native, he is here to celebrate his genealogy on the occasion of the century mark since his grandparents, Venus and Cyrus Alcindor, arrived stateside. They migrated from Belize, British Honduras, on a ship to the United States through Port of Mobile in Alabama. Cyrus had worked as a prisoner transporter in the Caribbean, and the couple uprooted in search of better economic prospects. Abdul-Jabbar takes a seat on a wooden bench in the front row of the Registry Room in the Great Hall. An American flag hangs above him on each side. Upon receiving his Ellis Island Family Heritage Award — a golden flame — he recounts his grandmother’s train ride north to escape Jim Crow. She had little experience on trains while living in Trinidad. The trip from Mobile to Brooklyn took the immigrants three or four days to complete.

Kareem Abdul-Jabbar takes in New York harbor views on way to Ellis Island, where he receives Family Heritage Award honoring his grandparents, who emigrated to U.S. one century ago.

(Howard Simmons/New York Daily News)

“My grandmother kept worrying that the train was going to run out of land and go into the ocean,” he says. “She used to tell us that story and make us laugh.”

Abdul-Jabbar alights after a short film about his family’s passage. Cyrus found work as a stonemason in a fast-rising Brooklyn, and a child was born. His name was Ferdinand. He served in the military and later became a city transit officer. He met and later married Viola, a seamstress. They gave birth to Ferdinand Lewis Alcindor, who grew to be 6-foot-8 by the eighth grade. He enrolled at Power Memorial Academy in Manhattan, won 71 consecutive games, earned a scholarship to UCLA, won 88 of 90 games and entered the NBA in 1969. Two years later, after studying Islam, he changed his name to Kareem Abdul-Jabbar. He gained a voice as a social advocate and played 20 seasons in the NBA, winning six titles and six MVP trophies. He remains atop the all-time scoring list and has published 12 books as an author.

“Kinda hard not to get teary eyed watching that,” he says.

He grows nostalgic for his New York youth.

“All the things I got to do, having to do with sports and having nothing to do with sports,” he says. “One of my favorite places was the Museum of Natural History. My dad was a jazz musician. I got a chance to live in Harlem when it was still a vital repository of all that jazz talent. It was a wonderful time.”

It is his first voyage to Ellis Island. He absorbs the setting, walking past rooms filled with images of gypsy families, Bulgarian refugees and Greek Soldiers who entered America by way of the island. There are exhibits that detail anti-immigrant propaganda across the country’s generations. Abdul-Jabbar makes his case to keep the borders open during the presidency of Donald J. Trump.

“I think the whole era of immigrants as scapegoats has to stop,” Abdul-Jabbar says. “We have to give people an opportunity to come to our country and contribute. This paranoia about people is not justified. I think America has such a wonderful promise for everyone. If it lives up to what it aspires to it is going to be alright.”

Lunch is served on the balcony above the Registry Room. Abdul-Jabbar eats with family before setting out for a return ride to Manhattan. Rain falls as they exit, and a group of eighth graders from Yeshiva Central Queens recognize Abdul-Jabbar.

“Kareem! Kareem!” they shout. “You’re a legend!”

He waves as he walks aboard Miss New York once more. The boys, some in Knicks hats, others in yarmulkes, shout for selfies and autographs. Abdul-Jabbar sits back on the second tier of the ferry, and the boys rush to him when they are allowed on board. The crowd encroaches; Morales, forever mindful of Abdul-Jabbar’s space, cuts a deal to keep them at bay. She hands out trading cards if they will leave the hall of famer alone. One boy has a plastic rim and net affixed to his book bag.

“Do you even know how famous he is?” one boy asks another.

“Guys, inside voices,” says a teacher. “You’re giving him a headache.”

Rabbi Mark Landsman, in suit and yarmulke, enters. He is the principal.

“Maybe we’ll dedicate the yearbook to him,” Landsman says as he pokes the feet of students inching past the doorway. “We should get a picture in there.”

Back at Battery Park, the students are let off first. They wait for him in hopes of a photo with him.

“You just have to give a high five,” Morales tells Abdul-Jabbar before they leave the ferry.

A hard rain falls. There is a pained expression on his face. He stops for a moment of hellos, then pivots to the left pathway. The students are led to the right. Still, some chase after him. Once free, Abdul-Jabbar quickens his pace en route to hailing a cab on Broadway. In his wake is one last reminder of his city roots.

“If you run into any people named Alcindor in Brooklyn, they’re probably relatives,” he says.

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theactor007 · 8 years ago

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101 questions: Answers

Ok since SOMEONE wanted me to answer all 101 questions...( if it's the person I'm thinking it is...just know you suck). It's almost 6 in the morning be grateful. So here we go! Long add post ahead just a fair warning. (I need to stop reblogging this crap.)

1. I have white walls, blue carpet, black desk, and a variety of colors and hues due to posters, pops, collectables, etc.

2. Probably my drama/ Chorus teacher, Mrs. Monahan. She's the one who taught me the most about my life.

3. Theatre, Kingdom Hearts, learning, laughing, Lilo and Stitch, (wow I'm a dork)

4. Lol I don't drink coffee

5. My so called "dad bod." How I am with women I like.

6. Accept that you have flaws. They are as much a part of you as the good stuff. But don't focus on the bad focus on what makes you strong, unique. You are you and that's beautiful.

7. I do not have stuff animals.

8. Probably drawing.

9. Usually in the fetal position on my right side on the left side of my bed.

10. Being on stage, the imagination of kids, making someone else smile.

11. Small town easily.

12. Two story house on the beach. Hardwood floors, a balcony overlooking the water, and a game room.

13. I'd honestly love like three dogs. A husky/wolf mix, Tibetan Mastiff, and a Shepard.

14. I have not dyed my hair as of now. But I am looking into getting some darker low lights. I'm yet.

15. To each his own. I personally don't have one, but I'm not gonna judge if you do.

16. Look at 15.

17. Art is all around you. Just use what you see and feel to guide your pen/brush/body etc.

18. I was in middle school. I just got off the bus, was in a really good mood bopping along. I walk in the house, didn't even lay my bad down when I saw my sister with tears in her eyes. She looks at me and says We're picking Funeral music now. My Great Grandmother. So yea.

19. Not so much playlists as much in the order they are in my phone.

20.

My best friend, Nate, Kerry, a few others.

21. Honestly as much as I try to, no. My main priority is making Every one else happy. Usually.

22. Usually typos.

23. Demon Hunter if you like metal. Dear Evan Hansen is amazing. I've been listening to Gorillaz recently so them too.

24. Plain.

25. Yea it's worth a shot at least

26. Nah I didn't see the eclipse. Tried to. But nope not really.

27. Nature is peace. Makes you realize you a part of something bigger than you. The birds chirping, the breeze, just beautiful.

28. Well I'm a hardworking, kind-hearted, socially awkward 22 year old. I enjoy theatre, video games, and making people happy. I will do anything and everything for my friends. I'm a proud dork, but with a wise mind.

29. I listen to basically anything. My music goes from Heavy metal to rap To Game music to Broadway to Disney to 80s.

30.

Probably Hot Topic. Most of my wardrobe is graphic tees. And no better place to get it from Hot Topic.

31.

I really don't shop at either. Name brand I guess?

32. What are s.o clothes?

33. I started Tumblr 2-3 years ago..something like that. I made it cause the girl I liked said I should make one. She help me make it and everything.

34. Wash my face every now and then. I really don't have a face care plan tbh

35. I prefer freckles, but both are equally cute!

36. Hate. And peas.

37. I used to have hot wheels cars. I loved organizing them into lines. Drive em around and line em up. Idk I was wierd.

38. Eh depends on the day

39. Games I use. Pops just sit there. I really don't buy a whole lot of expensive things.

40. Standardized testing in schools. Don't get me started.

41. I am constantly asking for advice. Can't learn if you don't know.

42. I mean prefer bras off but anyway!

43. Lol comfy. T-shirt, shorts, and flip flops is where it's at!

44. Honestly one of the better dates I've gone on. We went to the jazz festival and ended up going to a very nice restaurant. Watched the band play for a while. Went to the movies after and then went back to her place and we talked for like 3 hours. It was a good time. (She later went on to break my heart, but moving on!)

45. I am Christianso that should answer it.

46. I don't drink nearly enough water. I should drink more but I don't.

47. I mean it's good. It's unique. My hair naturally makes a nice little swoop so that's nice.

48. It's cloudy but the sun should be rising here soon.

49.

I'd like to think of be a King, but chances are I'd be a Prince. More like the Other Prince in Into the Woods. The one who isn't Charming.

50. If I'm dressing up it's my black button up, blue jeans, and whatever the nicest pair of sneakers is. (I don't dress up a lot)

51. My hair, my kind-heart, my ethics,

52. I'd like to think I'm open minded.

53. I don't judge. Come as you are. Everyone's got stuff that has made them who they are. If I can be one person who they can talk to about that stuff then I've done my job.

54.

I like to plan ahead as much as I can, but I have ADD so you do the math.

55.

Love learning, Hate the education system.

56.

German Shepard/Sharpei mix named Stitch. He's about 70 pounds of fluff and is as much a dork as I am. He's all bark no bite. Hes loves whoever comes in.

57. I don't like milk.

58. Kingdom Hearts, Disney, Overwatch, LOZ, Assassins Creed, oh and Lilo and Stitch.

59. Pandora.

60. Brave.

61. LILO AND STITCH!

62. (I'm getting my questions from my gallery cause I'm on mobile and I didn't get 62 so yea)

63. Once I get the notification that it needs to be updated it takes me like two weeks of ignoring it to actually update. Once I get tired of the notifications like 20 min.

64. I'm in mobile so it's this stupid question list. I still hate you.

65. Lilo and Stitch probably. STITCH and I have a lot in common. The themes, soundtrack, artwork absotuly beautiful. The jokes are still funny. The characters still amaze me. Just amazing.

66. I've seen one Studio Ghibli movie, Princess Monoke and I enjoyed it.

67.

If I'm playing games headphones are off. If music it's cranking loud as it can get!

68. All the time if by doing small things even If I don't say it verbally.

69. Kingdom Hearts, pops, Lilo and Stitch, I feel like I've answered this question a couple times.

70. God I want a partner. Someone to cuddle with, talk about life with, someone who will listen to me and support me. Someone I can be me around with.

71. Dr. Pepper

72. I'll talk to anyone who will listen. But the person who knew me the best and most intimately was the reason I created this Tumblr. Hope your doing well kid.

73. Ok let's see. Thomas Sanders' personal blog, FuckyeahKingdomHearts, the few mutuals I have, y'all know who you are,

74. To be truly happy with the one I'm supposed to spend forever with.

75. Of course! Is there any other place to sing?

76. I shave like once a week maybe. Mostly the cheeks. I trim my mustache and goatee if needed.

77. Over worrying.

78. Sometimes.

79. There are good and bad days. I try to.

80. It was like freshman year ( maybe 8th grade.) But I went with some friends around a riche part of town. Lol I went as Joseph from the Bible, like no joke. Got a lot of candy. It was good time.

81. It was the last day of third grade. I went to climb the monkey bars. I got to the first bar and fell cause my hands were sweaty. Bit my head on all three rungs to the ladder on the way down. Busted my head open and went home early. I think I still have the scar.

82. I'm tired man it's late for me. Long night at work.

83. My stupid ass had to reblog this. And I was expecting like answer like a few questions. No big deal. NOPE!! Some anon was like hey do All of em! So here I am on mobile, without Wi-Fi, I've been working all night, I've had to take pictures of this just so I can get it done. And I've been going at this now for like 2 hours. It's past my bedtime! I'm pretty sure I know who asked me this, because they have a habit of asking this type stuff. And if it is just know you suck so much. Ok end rant.

84. I say i don't care what people think, but I do. A lot. I worry that I'm being annoying or that I'm being that kid that everyone says hi to out of pity. I worry that I may bother some people. When in a relationship i constantly worry that I'm not doing my job right. That I've made her unhappy or something. It's a bad habit.

85. If both parties are working at it yes. Long distance can work. You gotta have a lot of trust. If there's the slightest bit of mistrust it can crumble in an instant.

86. Depending on how much younger. And yea if date someone older. I went on a date with a 35 year old once. Granted didn't know she was 35 till the date but she still had a great time.

87. Jim Carrey, the late Robin Williams, my great-grandfather whom I was named after, Obama, Hayley Joel Is many, the voice of Stitch.

88. I honestly don't remember.

89. 21st. I got my tattoo on the day before. Then me and my friends went to Disney Springs for the day and had a great time. A lot of laughs. I didn't drink but still had a great time!

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theowlsarenotwhattheyremembers · 8 years ago

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Episode 1: Dragonstone

Right guys I know you’ll have already watched this but look I only just started this blog and I can’t miss the first episode off also you will benefit from my insights regardless.

!!!! I have been in a state of extreme agitation all year and I can’t actually cope with the fact that it’s here. I am not emotionally prepared and do not know what I just saw.

Scene 1: Did everyone else not realise that was Arya and think we were in a flashback? I am so overwhelmed I am just right there in the moment I have no idea what’s about to happen. Then all those ratface (rats are intelligent moral creatures but you know what I mean) Freys start coughing up their own lower organs!! When did Arya learn about poisons? Was her training montage long enough to justify this?? I guess it was! And I know the Freys have deathsentence hospitality karma but baking your sons in a pie and feeding it to you and then dressing up in your corpse and poisoning your entire family - is that an eye for an eye according to whichever god is keeping score in this case? I guess possibly!

This recap blog is going to have an eye for History and Fable (matters which I know only very modest amounts about but there is google) and the sparknotes on Titus Andronicus on which the pie move is based indicates that it may lead to an ambivalent conclusion:

[After a succession of grisly heinous acts of reciprocal violence, Titus] tricks [Tamora, Queen of the Goths], captures her sons, kills them, and makes pie out of them. He feeds this pie to their mother in the final scene, after which he kills both Tamora and Lavinia, his own daughter. A rash of killings ensue; the only people left alive are Marcus [Titus’ brother], Lucius [Titus’ son], Young Lucius [his son], and Aaron [Tamora’s lover]. Lucius has the unrepentant Aaron buried alive, and Tamora's corpse thrown to the beasts. He becomes the new emperor of Rome.

This does not end well for the pie baker, though I suppose his kin are the ones who ultimately triumph. My male friends will often assume that I, a woman, feel empowered and liberated by the character of Arya, the traumatised magical child murderer. Not so, friends. My favourite liberated Game of Thrones #strongfemalecharacter is the lost unlamented Ros, sex worker from the north invented for TV for the purposes of the early sexposition-heavy plot who voyages down south with the Starks and whose illustrious sex spy career is wastefully cut short by Cunt Joffrey. Ros was working-class woman who fled the north before winter even came, whose talents were picked up by the farsighted Varys and who would have made an incredible Kings Landing player had it not been for the misogyny of Joffrey and the script writers and the twat fans who think the TV has to be like the crappy books which I have not read. Rest in Power Ros, this blog is dedicated to you.

Anyway I haven’t really recapped anything yet and this blog is already overlong so let’s get back to it.

Scene 2: The army of the north are coming!! This is too terrifying, it’s hot outside but I am wrapped in a blanket. There are multiple ice zombie giants as we all knew there would be. Let’s remember that like one living giant almost successfully broke through the gate at Castle Black during the wildling battle ages ago; multiple zombie giants are going to make fucking matchsticks of it no magic required, though they probably also have loads of that, those dragons need to get here pronto. Also why haven’t they iceblocked up the gate like Jon said they should ages ago??

Scene 2.5 (s2 was a vision I guess) Commander Dolorous Edd opens the gate to Meera and Bran, and asks if they are wildlings. Why does it matter? Wildlings can all come in anyway, that’s very much the policy now. Also if anything Bran saying “you were at Hardhome” etc only makes him seem more like a wildling, and a scary one? Anyway, no-one cares / everyone is too spooked to stay outside for long and so thank god poor Meera in particular can have a massive eat and a sleep by the fire. She and her magic and fighting skills have been wasted on being a less effective Hodor / wheelchair substitute, I eagerly anticipate her being given a chance to shine now our kids are back to what passes for civilisation.

Scene 3: Jon and Sansa are still holding court with the whole Northern gentry from last season. At least all those guys look warm in that nice hall toasting their feet on Winterfell’s famous underfloor heating! That awful bloke from the Vale *googles it* Yohn Royce makes an extremely unreasonable and tactics-free suggestion to demolish some of the last strongholds between them and the wall because of “justice” or whatever. Sansa points out that the castles themselves didn’t commit crimes (top-notch statecraft) but suggests they be given to loyal families to punish treason and reward loyalty. Jon makes a generous decision to let the young Karstarks and Umbers stay in their homes despite their twatty dads, making the good and frankly biblical point that the sons shouldn’t be punished for their fathers’ sins. Sansa is unhappy about this and she is probably a better king than Jon, or rather, I think they are both good kings but need to team up and respect each other, which she is really keen to do but unfortunately is also a woman so this makes things harder for everyone because they have to unlearn misogyny first.

Then she tells Littlefinger who barges in to their important conversation what would make her so happy was if he shut up and fucked off, and not to bother trying to get the last word, she’ll just assume it was clever. Which is a King’s Landing style burn! Please Jon, show that this queen is not wasted on the north. Also please Littlefinger, fuck off and die.

Scene 4: I collapsed a couple of bits into one there but I am aware that this is too long already because of my Titus Andronicus and Roslove detour, for which I am unrepentant, tune back in next post for more of the same. ANYWAY, here she is, best villain in GoT. She may be evil, but who wouldn’t be in her position? Cersei marches over a map of Westeros telling Jaime she is already 5 moves ahead of him and has an Armada on the way headed by a man who is desperate to impress her. Everyone thinks Jaime is going to kill her, but might she not kill Jaime? She absolutely has no further fucks to give whatsoever and just wants power and revenge and to die a fabulous drunk old evil empress with ten husbands each more devoted and militarily useful than the last. I hope she dies much sooner than that! I also think she will because she can’t be the one to win the game of thrones. Can she?? Could the alcoholic childless widow of the usurper king really win in the end? She could have more children if she could be bothered probably, if she was in a mood to consider dynastic matters. In this scene, she is not, and is just savouring the prospect of ruling the world asap and as bloodily as you like.

Scene 5: And here he fucking is! They really did cut down every tree on the Iron Islands! How did they throw this fleet together so quickly! It does not look like they cut corners! Those boats are fucking terrifying!

Is this even scene 5? Cersei and Jaime are immediately there, standing on the balcony, watching Euron’s terrifying Armada approach. Everything is happening extremely fast. This is not like the midseasons when everyone was walking painfully slowly around the Riverlands. Why do they have to get it all over as quickly as possible? Have they run out of money? I am no less overwhelmed than ever.

Scene 6: Thesp Goth Euron woos Cersei by saying she’s the most beautiful woman in the world and promising to give her a priceless gift to get to her woman’s heart. This is very tacky but it kind of confirms her power as actual queen and is a highpoint so far since the nadir of the Walk of Shame. Do you think the wildfire explosion of all the King’s Landing gentry and the Sparrows was the highpoint? Maybe that was the violence highpoint, and this is the statecraft highpoint. Also Euron’s “gift” is going to be more violence, and he also offers up his “two good hands,” at which Jaime, on behalf of us all, recoils.

Cersei seems likely to graciously accept the first gift before declining the second. Has her Sparrows experience taught her not to unleash forces against her enemies which she then cannot control and which then turn on her? Probably not!

I hate that sleazy prat Euron and can’t believe that Fantasizr drafted him into my Game of Game of Thrones league. Any points I get for him are a badge of shame (I got 15 for this scene).

Scene 7: Sam stars in music video soup poop library montage! Sam during this is confirmed as the fat nerd with a goatee and slicked back hair avatar of the show’s condescending idea of what a GoT fan looks like, corroborating the theory that Sam is actually the narrator / the Perspective from which the story is seen. Sam nicks some useful books after Jim Broadbent tells him he believes but doesn’t care that the White Walkers and the Long Night are coming. There is science going on in the Citadel, medical science involving weighing organs. This science needs to be more applied. Incidentally everyone, Game of Thrones is not medieval, it is Early Modern:

What Martin actually gives us is a fantasy version of what the historian Alfred Crosby called the Post-Columbian exchange: the globalizing epoch of the 16th and 17th centuries. A world where merchants trade exotic drugs and spices between continents, where professional standing armies can number in the tens or hundreds of thousands, where scholars study the stars via telescopes, and proto-corporations like the Iron Bank of Braavos and the Spicers of Qarth control global trade. It’s also a world of slavery on a gigantic scale, and huge wars that disrupt daily life to an unprecedented degree.

[…] even the medieval aesthetics of the show owes a debt to the 16th and 17th centuries. As any scholar of the The Fairie Queene will tell you, Renaissance literature is replete with tales of chivalry, jousting, dragon-slaying, and magic. Writers from Spencer to Cervantes displayed and abiding fascination with these medieval tropes precisely because they were witnessing their demise. And our modern conception of the Middle Ages, which emerged out of the Victorians’ fascination with Neo-Gothic and Pre-Raphaelite aesthetics, was actually based upon these early modern retellings of medieval life.

So why, outside of dorky pedantry, does any of this matter? Because fantasy worlds are never just fantasy. They appeal to us because they refract our own histories and speak to contemporary interests. George R.R. Martin’s fantasy has grown to enormous popularity in part because of its modernity, not its “medieviality.”

Scene 8: Back at Winterfell, we get to see Tormund’s brilliant face he puts on when he looks at Brienne:

To me this is adorable rather than creepy because though Tormund is a sex pest, it feels like this comes from a place of respect and genuine adoration. Also Brienne could dispatch him devastatingly before he knew what was happening and he absolutely knows it.

Actually this scene is where Sansa delivers her burn to Littlefinger, but onwards!

Scene 9: The unforgivable casting and all-round existence of Ed Sheeran aside, this scene was bad because of the insufferably one-dimensional laid-on-thick Simple Honest Country Blokeness of the Lannister soldiers. Arya is obviously considering whether or not to kill them, do you think? But they are so Nice she reconsiders.

The fact that she is still more than capable of affection, forming relationships, caring about people and so on, as also witnessed by that actor mother figure she befriended last season, indicates that despite ongoing trauma (actor murdered horribly in front of her, like all her friends) she is not the cold psycho she sometimes pretends she is. She is not Cersei (yet anyway). This is the point of this scene. Also to confirm that she is working through her list and Cersei is next.

Scene 10: More redemption of traumatised killer characters! The Hound is riding with the Brotherhood Without Banners in a frozen bucolic twilight. What an adorable combo! Lines like “Why are you always in such a foul mood?” “Experience” and “There is no Divine Justice, you dumb cunt. If there was, you’d be dead” indicate that the BwB bring out the best in my bff @lasophus’ favourite character. They stop at the place where The Hound robbed those innocent country folk a few seasons back, as we were reminded of in the excitingly scored Previously sequence at the beginning. They have subsequently died of starvation-related causes as he and Arya predicted they would at the time. The Hound is now sorry and sees a vision in the flames of the Army of the Dead and buries the bodies of his victims and says some adorable words over them. The Hound’s redemption story is much more moving and interesting and spiritual than Jaime’s (a plotline I name “Choozy the Floozy” because of its Manichean orbit around his two love interests Evil Cersei and Good Brienne). But meanwhile the dramatic irony is killing us viewers at home! That poor little girl and her dad are going to rise as wights!!

Scene 11: Sam fails to impress by finding out in the stolen restricted classified high-importance books that he was sent to the Citadel to read something that Stannis already told everyone but they ignored because he was too boring to listen to (what a merciful death that was at the hands of Can She Do No Wrong Brienne): Dragonstone needs to become an opencast Dragonglass mine asap. Which is a pity as Dragonstone is such an arresting work in the ‘dragon-brutalist’ style popular at the time of Aegon the Conquerer (which we will be admiring in the next scene but one). Sam fires off a raven to Jon which I hope will not be intercepted by some library rules-stickler maesters.

Also it’s nice to see Gilly and Little Sam looking so well-dressed and -fed in this scene. Gilly, a sexual abuse survivor subaltern from a wintry hellhole with an evil father and who would otherwise have become an ice zombie by now, is far, far south, in a land where you can still get away with dressing lightly, inside a city which according to awoiaf “is surrounded by massive, thick, high stone walls.” Also their flat looks really nice.

Well done Gilly.

Scene 12: Jorah! Things have not gone well for you! Jorah is an obsessively lovelorn prisoner in a well-regulated, proto-humane leper colony. I guess actually that going to the seat of all worldly learning was a good move, but your terrible disease is going to need more than trolley gruel and a clean cell to be cured. Thankfully Our Sam is wearing gloves when Jorah does his unnecessarily dramatic Ghoul Grab.

Scene 13: Our queen is coming home and everyone has put on eyeliner for the occasion! The general drift of the season’s wardrobe has been towards a kind of moody, shoulderpads-and-eyemakeup, subdued-charcoal-tones vibe. Everyone is looking great. Especially Cersei actually when she was receiving (at safe distance) Euron, and now Daenerys is looking wonderful too, with fine dragony detailing on her the tips of her shoulderpads. Actually Sansa had this look too, “Goth Military Queen” is clearly going to be massive this season.

Daenerys has a moving moment with the Westerosi sand when she comes ashore. We have been waiting 6 seasons for this. Oh my god.

I hope all the dragonglass mining won’t damage these amazing rock formations too much!

This scene is mainly going to be recapped in screenshots.

A gorgeous example of Early Modern Dragon Brutalism.

Art throne

Fucking YES!

#agoiaf #game of thrones #game of thrones recap #dragonstone #s07e01 #recap #tvrecaps #gotrecap #teamros

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fate-ad2021 · 8 years ago

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8. “Kingslayer (Part I)“

Session 8, Dec 10, 2016

Word count: 4,982

In-Game Date: Friday, June 11, 2021

In which phone calls are made, things are on fire, and plans get accelerated quite a bit faster than everyone expected.

I. Foreboding

“So what do we tell Siobhan?” Val asks as he stretches out on the couch, taking the spot that Caster vacated moments before to return to his workshop.

From her position lounging in one of the armchairs, Assassin pipes up, “We should keep our knowledge of Stella quiet for now. With luck, she will be a valuable asset and ally, but we may be better off negotiating a treaty with Siobhan separately first before trying to introduce the two of them. We still don’t know how Lancer and Archer will take to one another.”

“Yeah,” Jim adds from the other armchair. “And I doubt they’ll be as cooperative as you two are with others.”

Assassin nods. “Precisely.”

Jim goes on, “But I think we should broadcast our knowledge of Saber and Mordred.”

“Sunshine and Dollface?” Val asks. “You don’t think that would give too much away?”

Assassin and Jim both shake their heads. “No,” Jim counters. “Telling her about them will be a good way to win her trust and feel out where she stands.”

Assassin adds, “We haven’t seen Siobhan in action yet, but Saber has made it clear that he is willing to fight us, and I don’t think we’ll be able to get around Mordred without going through them. If Siobhan isn’t willing to join us in combat, we need to know that before committing to an alliance.”

Val thinks about it for a moment, then nods. “You’re right. I hope we can find a way to talk Sunshine out of trying to beat us up again, but if not, we need as much firepower as we can get to take him down. And I don’t even want to think about encountering Dollface again any time soon.”

He swings his legs off the couch, sits up and stretches, and strolls across the room to the basement door. After trying the knob and finding it locked, he raps sharply. “Hey, you! Are you almost done down there?”

A muffled voice – an elderly tenor, novel but carrying Caster’s recognizable tone of gruff disgruntlement toward his Master – calls out from somewhere beyond the door. “A few moments more, please!”

Val makes an exaggerated shrug. “Fine. I’m making coffee.”

Jim wrinkles his nose. “It’s almost 8 at night!” he calls after Val.

“It’s never too late for coffee!” Val calls back as he disappears into the kitchen.

“And it’s probably going to be a long night,” Assassin sighs. She settles further into her armchair, and Jim does the same to wait.

By the time Val’s coffee is done, Caster has emerged from the basement wearing a new face. This one is a man in a garish red military coat, well into his eighties or nineties as the voice suggested, with a nose so large as to be imposing. His hair is white as a powdered wig beneath an oversized feathered tricorn and his moustache and goatee are white to match, but his eyes are bright and clear.

The Servant huffs a sigh and looks around, one hand stuck into the jacket and the other resting on the hilt of the saber at his belt. “Well?” He queries. “What are we waiting for?”

Assassin and Jim both just blink a few times at him. Val strolls past, his band phone already out to dial Siobhan, and quips, “Nice hat, Napoleon.”

Caster huffs again. “I’m not—never mind.”

“Who are you?” Jim drones.

“Whoever you need me to be.” Comes Caster’s reply, and then Val’s phone is ringing through to Siobhan’s.

The phone rings for a long time before Siobhan’s voicemail kicks in. Her pleasant chirp informs the caller that she is unable to come to the phone right now but will endeavor to return their call as soon as possible. After a few seconds of floundering silence, Val puts on his best casual tone and leaves a message asking her to call him back if she wants to “get together and jam”.

“I have a bad feeling about this,” Jim mutters into the silence after Val hangs up.

“You try her,” Val instructs him. “Maybe she’s ignoring me.” Jim pulls out his own phone and dials Siobhan’s number.

Again, the phone rings for a long time. Just when the group thinks it might go to voicemail again, there is a click and Siobhan’s voice comes on the line.

“H-hello?” Instead of the pleasant chirp, her voice sounds strained and haggard.

“Siobhan?” Jim asks. “It’s Jim. Are you okay?”

She huffs out a groan of pain. “No, I’m – I’m not. Please, you’ve got to—” Her voice is drowned out by the shriek of an emergency vehicle siren blazing past.

Jim is already on his feet, reaching for his coat. “Where are you? Is Lancer there?”

“Lancer’s here,” Siobhan replies. “We’re in an alleyway near the Pantheon. It just—” She is cut off by another siren. “Jim, be careful.” Then the line goes dead.

In Jim’s haste, he had not put the phone on speaker. Assassin stops him with a hand on his arm before he can rush out the door. “What’s going on?”

“Siobhan’s in trouble,” he replies. “She said she was near the Pantheon. She sounded like she was hurt.”

Assassin nods and heads for the door. “I’ll scout out ahead and report back. You three can follow in a few minutes.”

Jim nods back as she fades away into invisibility and darts out of the house. He slowly resumes his seat in the armchair, his elbows on his knees and his head rested in shaking hands. After a moment, he glances up and asks, “Should we call Stella?”

Val and Caster exchange a glance and a shrug. “Let’s see what Sailor Moon turns up,” Val decides. “I’ve got Stella on speed dial if we need her.”

“Of course you do,” Jim grumbles.

“Do you even know what speed dial is, Jimbo?”

II. Pantheon on Fire

The Pantheon is a temple, a sacred site of the Old Gods, located about a block south of La Tazza d’Oro and several blocks away from the house where the group is staying.

Once outside, Assassin takes to the rooftops to get a faster route and a better look at what may have happened. Now that she is above the bustle of the streets, she can hear the sirens that came in on the background of Siobhan’s call. She takes off running, using the preternatural agility of her incorporeal form to speed across the city unimpeded.

The first thing that Assassin sees is the smoke. By the time she gets to the Pantheon plaza, it is thick enough to choke a physical form. The second thing is light. The whole plaza is lit up with fire and emergency lights. Not only the Pantheon itself, but several of the buildings around it are being engulfed in flames as emergency crews rush to save the wounded and douse the disaster.

Assassin can also sense the presence of a Servant nearby. Hopping over a few buildings, she peeks down into an alleyway to see Lancer standing guard over Siobhan, who is slumped against the wall. Assassin quickly relays the image of the plaza ablaze to Jim and urges him to bring the others as quickly as possible.

A wooden fence with a locked gate bisects the alley where Lancer and Siobhan are holed up. A few moments after Assassin’s call, the group has convened on the opposite side of the gate from Team Lancer – Val’s knowledge of the city kept them out of the path of traffic and emergency crews. Jim taps gently on the gate and calls out to Siobhan. Although Lancer immediately raises her fists in defense of her Master, she recognizes Jim’s voice quickly and lets him and Val through; Caster remains incorporeal for discretion’s sake.

Siobhan remains curled into a ball against the alley wall. She is cradling one arm to her chest and her hair has fallen to obscure her face, and she is breathing heavily. A dumpster has been pushed into the mouth of the alley, likely Lancer’s work to block easy line of sight from the street.

Jim hesitates, then kneels as near to her as Lancer will allow. “Siobhan, are you hurt?”

The woman just grunts. Lancer’s expression is pained as she explains, “Yes, she has been injured. But it is nothing that we cannot treat. The past few moments have just been a little hectic.”

Jim glances up at the rooftop, sending a silent inquiry to Assassin, who jumps down a moment later, materializing halfway through her somersault and landing a safe distance away. She placates Lancer with raised open palms. “I’m a healer,” Assassin tells her, and Jim nods. “May I take a look at her?”

There is a brief stretch of silence as Lancer’s sharp red eyes study Assassin – her robes, her runes, her crescent moon jewelry. Then Lancer says, a hint of wonder in her voice, “You are a Priestess of the Old Gods.”

Assassin blinks slowly, appearing to debate whether or not to contest the assessment. Then, “Yes. I serve them even beyond death. And I swear by them that no harm will come to your Master by my hands.”

Lancer looks impressed despite herself. Her hesitation disappears as she takes a deliberate step back. “See that it does not.”

Satisfied with the permission granted, Assassin steps forward and kneels in front of Siobhan. It takes some coaxing, but she is able to get her to uncurl enough to show her arm. It is badly burned. Assassin pulls some herbs and cloth out of a pouch on her belt and wraps a poultice around the arm, covering the burn the best that she can and speaking soothing words to the injured woman.

Jim turns to Lancer. “We need to know what happened, but we can’t stay here.”

“Whoever did this might still be around,” Val adds. “And if it’s who we think it is, we really don’t wanna run into them.”

Lancer’s sharp gaze turns on the two Masters. “I agree. I will inquire about who you think it is and how you have this suspicion once we are out of immediate danger. Where shall we go?”

“Options are your place or ours,” Jim thinks aloud. “Neither is good, especially if we’re followed.”

Val pulls out his phone and opens up a map app. “Better idea: there’s an Estray safehouse about three blocks walk southeast of here. I can get us in.”

“I’ll check out the Pantheon while you go, and see if I can find the source of the fire.” Caster tells Val privately. Val relays that to the others, and Lancer agrees to the plan. The group leaves the alley via the gate, with Val leading the way, Jim and Assassin supporting Siobhan, and Lancer incorporeal, guarding their backs.

III. A Message in Flames

Swift in his incorporeal form, Caster makes his way through the crowd and into the Pantheon. The building’s visage is no less impressive for the flames, and although there is a terrible aura around it, Caster does not hesitant to step inside.

The Pantheon’s circular interior is in ruins – this was clearly no mere fire, but something closer to an explosion. Caster drifts through the rubble and wreckage, not bothering to step over the fallen pillars and cracked statues, following his instincts and his good sense for odd magic.

Those instincts lead him back and to the left, to a familiar looking statue: the countenance of the goddess Diana carved in marble and cracked by the heat. Caster’s stomach steadily sinks as he inspects the statue. A few moments of examination reveals the source of the explosion: a charred seal, identical to the one found in the warehouse, laid into the floor at the feet of the statue.

Caster hisses in a gasp and gulps. The message is clear: whoever set the seal is intent on seeing ‘Diana’ burn. Caster takes a moment to center himself, then casts out to see if he can feel any other auras nearby.

There is one: the presence of a Servant, outside the building. He glances around, assessing his options, then uses his supernatural agility to spring up the walls and out the oculus in the center of the building’s domed ceiling.

Once on the roof, he scans the figures in the gathered crowd. One in particular stands out to him: short, slight, wearing a red jacket and a blue baseball cap pulled down over blonde hair. A familiar smirk is visible beneath the brim of the cap. Caster holds his breath, fearful that Mordred will somehow be able to sense him even in his incorporeal form. He only lets out the breath when they turn away and melt back into the crowd.

“I’m coming back,” he calls to Val. Then he springs away without waiting for a response, eager to leave the destruction and the terror behind.

IV. Estray Safehouse

Standing at the edge of the boundary field, Lancer frowns at the safehouse. It is a single-story house that stands separate from the buildings around it: a rarity in this neighborhood of Rome.

“You said these were your people, who established this house?” She asks Val.

“Yes,” Val replies. “There are a bunch of them throughout the city.” He kneels and touches the ground at the boundary field, letting it feel his energy and sense that he belongs. It unlocks with a barely audible pop. Assassin and Jim help Siobhan up the walkway to the door, and Val makes to follow them but pauses when Lancer huffs.

“This boundary is insufficient.” She declares. “I will make it stronger.”

Val and Jim exchange a glance. “Uh,” Val says. “Sure? Go for it.”

Lancer closes her eyes and breathes into her closed hand. Stepping into the bounds of the property, she begins a slow walk around it with her fist extended to the edge of the field. With each step she takes, a glowing drop of energy falls from her hand; where the drops fall, a delicate rune is left behind.

Assassin watches impassively, her expression carefully schooled to hide any surprise she might feel. Jim and Val are not as nonchalant: Jim’s eyes widen, and Val openly gapes. Once Lancer has gotten out of sight behind the safehouse, Val turns to Jim and stage-whispers: “That’s not a standard Lancer ability, is it?” Jim throws up his free hand in a helpless shrug.

“No,” Assassin murmurs in response. “But it fits with the theme: there seems to be a whole lot of non-standard going around this War.”

They take Siobhan inside to wait for Lancer to finish improving the place.

As Jim and Assassin get Siobhan settled on the couch, Val declares that he is going to make coffee to make up for not having any at their house. Jim takes a seat in a chair across from the couch.

“Siobhan,” Jim murmurs, getting the injured woman’s attention. “I thought you were going to wait for us. Can you tell us what happened?”

Siobhan takes a deep, shuddering breath and lets it out slowly. “I can try. I’m not entirely sure myself.”

“Take your time.” Assassin calls gently from the window where she has stationed herself.

Siobhan nods and slowly pulls herself upright. “I had sent Lancer to go meet with you, but my hotel is nearby the Pantheon, and I thought I sensed something strange there – an odd sort of magic. So I went to check it out.” She shakes her head. “Stupid, but what’re you gonna do?”

“It’s not…” Jim shakes his head. “I probably would’ve done the same thing.”

“I definitely would have done the same thing!” Val’s voice calls from the kitchen, drawing a bitter smile and a reluctant chuckle from Siobhan.

“So,” she continues. “I went to the Pantheon. Started looking around. I found… this thing, on the floor in front of one of the statues. I could only see it when I squinted. It looked like a magic mark of some sort: this circle with a kind of squiggly interior.”

Across the living room, Assassin catches Jim’s eye, dreadful comprehension dawning on them both. They say nothing, though, and let Siobhan continue to relay her story.

“It wasn’t until about ten minutes on that I got the worst sense of… foreboding, or something, that I’ve ever felt. The seal started to glow, and then—” She stops, her voice choked off by a sob.

“It exploded.” Jim breathes.

Siobhan nods. “I… barely had time to get out before it went off.” She lets out another sob as Lancer comes through the door, returning from her self-appointed task. The tall Servant crosses the room to her Master and places an anchoring hand on her shoulder as Siobhan continues, “So many people got caught in it, though… I don’t know if… if anyone…”

As Val returns to the living room with the coffee, Siobhan raises her injured arm to cover or wipe away her tears, affording the group another look at the limb. It is badly burned: despite Assassin’s valiant attempt to heal it, Siobhan will likely come away with scars. But something else catches Jim’s eye: the Command Seal on her hand is down to two marks instead of the three they saw that morning.

“Your Command Seal,” Jim asks gently. “What did you use it on?”

Too late, Siobhan tucks her arm back against her body and shakes her head. Lancer frowns. “A good partnership is built on honesty. If you will not tell them, I shall.” Siobhan sighs and casts her gaze aside. Lancer squeezes her shoulder and addresses the rest of the group. “My Master lied when she said she barely got out.”

“What do you mean?” Val gapes. “Was she caught in the explosion too?”

“Yes,” Lancer says. “And no. She realized seconds before the seal went off that she would not be able to get out in time, and she used the power of the Command to call me to her aid.”

Assassin chimes in, “Even Servants can’t ordinarily do things like teleport, but the Commands provide enough power to enable us to do extraordinary things. Siobhan must have commanded Lancer to remove her to safety.”

Lancer nods. “That is correct. To my shame, I was not quite fast enough…” Siobhan covers Lancer’s hand with her own and murmurs something that sounds conciliatory in Gaelic. Lancer smiles slightly, but her expression turns hard again as she rounds on the party. “As for you three: what do you know of this seal? You clearly had an idea of what happened before my Master told you of it. I would have you share your information, quickly!”

Jim and Val both hold up their hands in placating gestures. They explain what they can about their findings at the warehouse, admitting that they got the address from the slip of paper that Siobhan dropped at dinner and leaving out the detail about allying with Stella. They tell the other team of the seal and the deaths; they tell them that they might know who the culprit behind the fires is. All the while, Lancer and Siobhan listen intently, nodding, asking a few questions.

At some point during the explanation, Caster announces his return privately to Val and relays what he saw: the broken seal at the foot of the statue of Diana. Val relays it to the group, and Assassin comes to the same conclusion that Caster did: there was clearly a message to them.

“Why do you say that?” Lancer demands.

Assassin and Jim exchange a glance, and Assassin lies smoothly, “Given what you already know about me, doesn’t it make sense that targeting a symbol of the Lady of the Moon would be an effective implicit blow against me?”

Lancer hums and nods. “Yes, I suppose so. You said that you have some idea of the personage behind these attacks. Tell me.”

“See,” Caster says, materializing on the other side of the room and well out of Lancer’s immediate reach. “Here’s where that gets complicated.”

Instead of jumping to the attack as everyone expected, Lancer simply raises an eyebrow and appraises the newcomer. Frowning, she pronounces, “You must be a Caster, dressed like that.”

Val snorts into his coffee and Jim and Assassin both pointedly find interesting spots to examine on the ceiling. Caster huffs and adjusts his hat. “I just might be.”

“Well, that will be a problem,” Lancer replies. “Despite the honesty with which I greeted you earlier, I would strongly prefer to be ‘undercover’, as it were, as a Caster class Servant. I hope you can find it in yourselves to keep my true class a secret.”

Caster shrugs and draws the saber at his belt with a flourish. In a strobe of light, the weapon transforms into a spear. “Voila!” he exclaims. “One disguise, ordered and delivered.”

Lancer’s expression and nod are almost approving.

“What’s so complicated about the question of the culprit?” Siobhan asks him.

Caster vanishes the spear and leans against Val’s chair. “We think that it is Saber’s Master who has been placing these seals. We have reason to suspect that if we investigate the other warehouses that have burned in the past few weeks, we will find evidence of similar magic there as well. We don’t know why he could be doing this. That’s the easy part. The complicated part,” here he looks at his Master and Jim, “is that at the Pantheon, I sensed another Servant. Not Saber. The kid – the one from the chocolate shop.”

Val shudders and Jim lets out a harsh breath. “Do you think he had something to do with it?” Val asks.

Caster shrugs. “I don’t know. For all I know, they could all be in league together. That would be just our luck.”

“You say this person was at the Pantheon?” Lancer inquires.

Caster nods. “They were outside, in the crowd. I left just after they did.”

Lancer exchanges a silent look with Siobhan, then draws herself up. “Please excuse me.” She steps into a corner of the room where a door blocks the light and melts into the shadows.

V. Pursuit

For a half minute, the group stares aghast at the spot where Lancer disappeared. Then Jim sputters, “Did she just…?”

“You know the video of that guy, Leeroy Jenkins?” Siobhan asks. “That’s basically Lancer in a nutshell.”

Val looks to Caster. “Can you figure out where she went?”

“Don’t need magic to tell you that,” Caster mutters, but tries his magic anyway. Closing his eyes and focusing deeply on the sense of Lancer and her path, he casts his mind down the stream of time to see two figures in close pursuit, to smell fumes of a vehicle’s gasoline, to hear rushing water and the clash of weapons.

He pulls himself out of the future sight and tells the group, “She’s going to the Pantheon. She’ll chase them down. There will be a fight.”

Val points to the door. “Go follow them. Stall them until we can get there.”

Caster nods and bolts out the door.

(Behind him, Assassin asks if they should not also take up pursuit. Val replies that he wants to wait until Caster has sent word so they don’t end up running around in circles. Jim expresses concern for Lancer’s safety; Siobhan assures him that she can take care of herself for a time.)

Emergency crews still surround the Pantheon; Caster is nearly halfway across the square before he smells the gasoline and hears the accompanying rip roar of a motorcycle engine, quickly followed by swiftly running feet. Evidently, Lancer and Mordred have given up their invisibility in favor of an all-out physical chase. Caster suspects that his agility is no match for either of his quarry’s, so he swiftly ducks into an alleyway, drops into physical form, and shifts into the ‘Diana’ guise for a boost to speed. Clutching the ridiculous feathered hat to her head, she takes off running.

“Master,” she calls silently. “They’re heading west of the Pantheon, toward the river! I think there’s a bridge there!”

Back at the safehouse, Val relays the direction to the rest of the group. “I’ll go,” he offers. “And it would help if we had another person for backup, but somebody needs to stay with Siobhan.”

But Siobhan is already on her feet. “No,” she shakes her head. “Lancer might be able to take care of herself, but if this is gonna be a big fight, I don’t want her going it alone.”

Val nods. “Alright. Sailor Moon, why don’t you get going? I wanna take the ‘phone a friend’ option.”

“Will you be able to get there okay?” Jim asks Siobhan as Assassin takes off running.

Siobhan reaches down to touch her ankles, softly singing a few measures of a catchy Irish tune as she does. A bright pair of wings spring from the sides of her shoes. She beckons to Jim and does the same to his shoes. “There,” she nods. “They won’t let us fly or anything, but we’ll be able to run faster now.”

After waving the two of them out the door, Val hits a speed dial key on his phone. The phone rings three times before Stella picks up. “’ello?”

“Stella, darling,” Val simpers. “I could really use your help right about now.”

There is a beat of silence, then, “What’s up?”

“Do you remember how we talked about that creepy kid from the candy shop, who you met in the market…?” At Stella’s grunt of assent, Val presses on, “Well, you see, we might be heading into a… confrontation, with them…”

“And you want my help,” Stella finishes in a flat tone.

“Yes!” Val chirps. “Yes, that would be—”

“After dinner earlier,” she interrupts him. “Whereat we just established that nobody wants to fight that kid.”

“Well,” Val hedges. “Yes, but… We have a plan. And an edge! We were going to tell you, we’ve found another temporary ally who can certainly help us out…”

Over the phone, Stella huffs. “Oh, if that’s the case, it sounds like you don��t actually need my help.”

“Stella, darling—”

“Don’t you ‘Stella, darlin’’ me, Valentin de Rosa!” She snaps. “We ain’t even come to an agreement proper yet, and here you are, asking me to stick my neck out for you. How do I know you ain’t sending me into a trap?”

“Stella, I would never!” He glances at his phone, at the location where he assumes the fight will take place. “Come to Ponte PASA; that’s where we’ll be. If you don’t see me there, you don’t have to come out of hiding. I swear on my fame and fortune that I’m not sending you into a trap.”

She grumbles, but finally reluctantly agrees to show up. As soon as Val hangs up the phone, he bolts out the door, hitting the lights and the lock behind him.

VI. Clash at Ponte PASA

Ponte Principe Amedeo Savoia Aosta – Ponte PASA by its acronym – is a one-way east-bound bridge over the River Tiber. There is a three-car pileup at the west end, blocking vehicle traffic to it; a delivery truck has flipped onto its side and is mostly blocking easy line-of-sight to the spectacle. Built of brick and marble, the bridge is old and sturdy, although perhaps not quite up to withstanding the ferocity of the battle occurring on its surface.

By the time Caster catches up to the two figures in pursuit of one another, it is impossible to tell who had been chasing whom. Lancer and another figure are locked in hand-to-hand combat. Lancer has abandoned her casual outfit for her armor, close-fitting dark leather. Her opponent is clad head to toe in heavy armor of black and red, all cruel angles and twisted spikes, topped off with a full-face horned helmet. For the moment, the two are trading equal blows with neither party appearing to deal or sustain any damage.

With nothing else to do, Caster resumes the form of the man in the red coat and arms himself with a spear to cover Lancer’s disguise as a Caster. Checking for bystanders, who appear conspicuously absent at the east end of the bridge, he charges toward the bridge and dives into the fray the first chance he gets.

The armored figure springs away from the new combatant, bringing up their arms to block his strikes with a hiss of anger. Lancer dances back as well before she recognizes Caster’s form.

“It is about time you showed up,” she quips. She breathes into her hand as she had done at the safehouse and flings a bunch of shining droplets to the ground. They resolve into a line of glowing runes. “Don’t step there,” she advises Caster as he makes another jab with the spear.

“Did I ever tell you the story of how I took over Rome single-handedly?” Caster asks no one in particular.

Lancer casts a curious look at him, but decides to humor him. “No, I don’t believe you have…”

Caster opens his mouth to begin the tale, but is interrupted by a fan of daggers whistling by his ears. “Oh, don’t get him started!” Assassin pleads from her perch on the bridge’s railing.

The armored figure swings their arms up to easily swat the projectiles away and they do a double-take at the sight of the newcomer. Through the eyeholes of their helmet, their furious green eyes flash in recognition.

“You!” They roar, directly at Assassin. “If I’d known you were on the field, I’d have gone after you first!”

And with those words, Berserker’s aura of Mad Enhancement flares to life.

#session log post

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