#Numbers: Observers in the Building Forest

[kdram-chjh]

Kdrama: Numbers (2023)

Numbers | TEASER | Kim Myung Soo, Choi Jin Hyuk

Watch this video on Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/shorts/jZ6AwEV9NKY

[kdram-chjh]

Kdrama: Numbers (2023)

NUMBERS 넘버스: 빌딩숲의 감시자들 — 2023, dir. Kim Chil Bong

[reasonsforhope]

"Despite the Central Appalachia ecosystem being historically famous as coal country, under this diverse broadleaf canopy lies a rich, biodiverse world of native plants helping to fill North America’s medicinal herb cabinet.

And it turns out that the very communities once reliant on the coalfields are now bringing this botanical diversity to the country.

“Many different Appalachian people, stretching from pre-colonization to today, have tended, harvested, sold, and used a vast number of forest botanicals like American ginseng, ramps, black cohosh, and goldenseal,” said Shannon Bell, Virginia Tech professor in the Dept. of Sociology. “These plants have long been integral to many Appalachians’ livelihoods and traditions.”

50% of the medicinal herbs, roots, and barks in the North American herbal supply chain are native to the Appalachian Mountains, and the bulk of these species are harvested or grown in Central Appalachia, which includes southern West Virginia, eastern Kentucky, far-southwest Virginia, and east Tennessee.

The United Plant Savers, a nonprofit with a focus on native medicinal plants and their habitats, has identified many of the most popular forest medicinals as species of concern due to their declining populations.

Along with the herbal supply chain being largely native to Appalachia, the herb gatherers themselves are also native [to Appalachia, not Native American specifically], but because processing into medicine and seasonings takes place outside the region, the majority of the profits from the industry do too.

In a press release on Bell’s superb research and advocacy work within Appalachia’s botanical communities, she refers back to the moment that her interest in the industry and the region sprouted; when like many of us, she was out in a nearby woods waiting out the pandemic.

“My family and I spent a lot of time in the woods behind our house during quarantine,” Bell said. “We observed the emergence of all the spring ephemerals in the forest understory – hepatica, spring beauty, bloodroot, trillium, mayapple. I came to appreciate the importance of the region’s botanical biodiversity more than ever, and realized I wanted to incorporate this new part of my life into my research.”

With co-investigator, John Munsell at VA Tech’s College of Natural Resources and Environment, Bell’s project sought to identify ways that Central Appalachian communities could retain more of the profits from the herbal industry while simultaneously ensuring that populations of at-risk forest botanicals not only survive, but thrive and expand in the region.

Bell conducted participant observation and interviews with wild harvesters and is currently working on a mail survey with local herb buyers. She also piloted a ginseng seed distribution program, and helped a wild harvester write a grant proposal to start a forest farm.

“Economic development in post-coal communities often focuses on other types of energy development, like fracking and natural gas pipelines, or on building prisons and landfills. Central Appalachia is one of the most biodiverse places on the planet. I think that placing a greater value on this biodiversity is key to promoting a more sustainable future for the region,” Bell told VA Tech press.

Armed with a planning grant of nearly half a million dollars, Bell and collaborators are specifically targeting forest farming as a way to achieve that sustainable future.

Finally, enlisting support from the nonprofit organization Appalachian Sustainable Development, Virginia Tech, the City of Norton, a sculpture artist team, and various forest botanicals practitioners in her rolodex, Bell organized the creation of a ‘living monument’ along Flag Rock Recreation Area in Norton, Virginia.

An interpretive trail, the monument tells the story of the historic uses that these wild botanicals had for the various societies that have inhabited Appalachia, and the contemporary value they still hold for people today."

-via Good News Network, September 12, 2024

[knight-commander]

Observations on an Empty World

I recently started a new game in Dragon Age: Origins as part of the grieving process, and I'm struck by how allergic the writers of Dragon Age: Veilguard were to providing rich opportunities for roleplaying and exploration – fundamental elements of the franchise that previous entries excelled at and audiences clearly expected. It's extremely noticeable in the differences in how we interact with other characters in Thedas, and especially prominent in the first hours of each game.

While playing as a Dalish Elf in Origins, during the prologue alone, you can speak freely to and question:

Tamlen, your childhood friend

Keeper Marethari, the leader of your clan

Merrill, the Keeper's second-in-command

Maren, a gentle woman who works with the halla

Ilen, the clan's craftsman, who teaches you about the Vir Tanadhal

Paivel, one of the hahrens who raised you and Tamlen

Pol, a city elf come to the Dalish to avoid being hanged for theft

Junar, the hunter teaching Pol about Dalish life

Ashalle, who tells you the sad story of your parents (and the game lets you decide how to react to her telling you this)

Fenarel, who wants to come with you on your search for Tamlen with or without informing the Keeper

The 3 (nameless) humans encroaching on your clan's campsite, who you can choose to ruthlessly kill or scare off, but either way contributes to the clan having to leave

Duncan, of course

You can talk to many of these characters twice or more, once when you awake in camp the first time, and again after returning empty-handed after your search for Tamlen. They have different attitudes towards you and the politics of the world they live in. Often, you can interrogate them for more information. Some have interesting insights, others provide context for the world your character inhabits. Sometimes, you'll unlock codex entries from conversations you have with these side characters (or items in their vicinity), elaborating even more on what you've learned. All of this is in service to helping you roleplay: each interaction layers choices upon choices, building a picture of how your character interfaces with friends, acquaintances, and strangers, as well as how you'll fit them into the ideological jigsaw puzzle that is Thedas.

You will talk to none* of these characters again after the first two hours of the game. They are "not important", but they provide vital glimpses of a wider world that could exist outwith the boundaries of the main quest. The implications of the history they've lived – Paivel's sorrow at having to "bury babes he once held in his arms"; Ilen's recollections of his father's successful first-strikes against Ferelden tribes; Ashalle's reasons for withholding the sad story of your parentage – are all unnecessary to the plot of defeating the Blight, but they make Thedas feel lived in. Alive.

Before I move on: I could be very cruel to Veilguard here and count Ostagar as part of the prologue – which it is. In this case, the number of richly-characterised NPCs balloons massively. For the sake of the argument, I won't.

In Veilguard, the prologue has you interact with:

The nameless bartender, with whom you are given one singular dialogue choice (to persuade with violence or a silver-tongue).

Varric, whose goal in the opening fifteen minutes is to lead you to the next plot point.

Harding, who saves some nameless NPCs and comes with you to the next plot point.

Neve, who is the next plot point and who Varric and Harding already know, so they briefly introduce you to each other in between fights.

... Let's extend it a bit, otherwise that's a sad little list. In the follow-up mission to Arlathan Forest, you can talk to:

Strife and Irelin, faction leaders and darlings of the extended universe (aka, the heroes from another short story), who tell you who you're going to talk to next.

Bellara, who already knows who the Neve Gallus is, of course, and is all but ready to jump into action, even if you don't know who she is or her motivations for being out here in this pickle.

... Uh-oh, it's not looking that much better. Can we keep going? Including the D'Meta's Crossing section, you can also talk to:

Jahel, the surviving Veil Jumper you came looking for. This shouldn't really be counted, because it's not really a back-and-forth. He dies after approximately 2 lines of expository dialogue about the plot of this immediate section. His named Veil Jumper partner, Mihiva, is dead when you arrive.

Arguably, you could "interact" the nameless villagers afflicted by the Taint on the way there, but they do the 'crazed mutterings' and it's not really a back-and-forth, just an environmental button press when you approach.

Julius, the Mayor of D'Meta's Crossing, who you can lightly question, then decide his fate.

Morrigan, for the cameo, I suppose.

Look, I could tack Treviso and the Ossuary on. It might look slightly better. I could count the Caretaker and the faction shopkeepers with their AI-generated ass one-line introductions (but I absolutely will not, because that's ridiculous). The problem is, to me, transparent.

Veilguard is only interested in interactions with the "main characters" of Thedas – the cast of action heroes that surround your Rook. These include your companions, characters from previous games (Varric, Morrigan), and names from the comics or tie-in novels who you are supposed to whoop and cheer for when they appear without ever getting to find out who they are. If I was being unkind, I would even say it is uninterested in providing opportunities to converse with these characters given the superficial, skin-deep nature of the dialogue.

Of the short, sparse interactions you are allowed to participate in during Veilguard's opening, you can have a brief back-and-forth with at most three characters who are not other party members (past or present) or faction leaders. Two are named. I won't do the labour of counting lines of dialogue, but there are only a handful for all of these characters combined.

Throughout the game, these "other characters" exist to be beaten down in service to the plot, as quest markers in service to the plot, or to be saved in service to the plot. If you are lucky, they might have names, but they will never be so fleshed out that you could imagine an internal world for them. You can never imagine what their place in Thedas might be beyond the context you meet them in. They stand or sit or lie stationary at map markers, waiting to be talked to, and cease to exist once their dialogue tree is concluded.

The game tells you, at every possible opportunity, to keep moving. Move onto the next plot point, it says. Forget who you just talked to – they're not important like Neve, or Harding, or Lucanis, or Emmrich. You don't even need to know their names. They don't have an exclamation mark above their head. They weren't here five minutes ago, and they're not going to be here in five minutes. The words they say don't matter, it's just padding for the script to get you from Point A to Point B. Varric says you've got the elven gods Elgar'nan and Ghilan'nain to take down, isn't that thrilling?

[tiniedemon]

HOLD MY GIRL . . . kyle broflovski / reader

genre . . . smut, fluff

hold my girl — george ezra

kyle is a menace, and an asshole, and a terrible liar. you’re exceptionally aware of the last one. he has a few tells — refusal to make eye contact, poking his top lip with his tongue, twisting the few rings on his fingers — that first alerted you he’s hiding something. he’s not subtle, in the slightest. not as he sits with you and with your friends and he seems so anxious he could rip his hair out.

a birthday party is the last place for a breakdown, and you know he knows it, and it’s the only reason he’s keeping it in. he’s a horrid liar. his eyes, just as green and mossy as when you’d met him, continuously dart towards you. ‘no alcohol,’ he’d mumbled before your party. ‘i want you sober tonight.’ telling a grown adult not to drink on their birthday is a cruel thing to do, but you’re never one to complain. if he doesn’t want you drinking, it can only mean he’s planning to fool around later.

you’re growing tired, having just about enough of his nervous leg bouncing and consistent ruffling of his own curls. you slide your hand into his, give it a light squeeze, and if it does anything at all, it makes him somehow more nervous. it’s ridiculous. one touch and you’ve reduced the man to a puddle of anxiety.

“do you wanna leave?” you whisper, leaning toward him on stan’s couch. he hesitates, scans your face, and sighs. a nod shakes the red tendrils framing his vermillion face. you tug him onto his feet, make your rounds of the room. all your friends look at you like they know something you don’t, and now you’re the nervous one, tugging at kyle’s rings the entire way home.

“you seem a bit anxious,” he observes, though his hands are shaking almost as much as his voice. you want to laugh at the pure hilarity of it all. his anxiety rubbed off on you, and now you’re on the verge of losing your shit in the passenger seat, heart pounding out of your chest and eyes refusing to meet his.

“i wasn’t nervous until i realized everyone was keeping a secret,�� you hush. he hums, acknowledging you, though doing nothing to curb your sudden onset terror. your apartment building creeps into sight and you feel like you could vomit. whatever’s waiting for you in your shared apartment can’t be good for your mental well-being. it’s your first birthday with kyle as a couple, and you know he’s gone all out like the sweetheart he can be.

“it’s nothing you should be scared for,” he mumbles as he tugs you through the passenger door he’s just opened. you rest your palms against his chest, gaze into his eyes, scanning his visage for any signs that you should be as terrified as you stand now. predictably, you can’t find any around the pure adoration slicing through his forested gaze.

“if you got us a cat, i’m never going to forgive you for hiding it from me,” you finally whisper, standing on your toes to press a fleeting kiss to his lips. he leans into it, chases it when you’ve dropped down to your height. you chuckle at the slight pout finding itself on his freckled lips.

“i didn’t get a cat, unfortunately. landlord says no pets, remember?” he muses as he tugs you towards the entrance to the building. it’s a short rise to the fifth floor, the floor your apartment rests on, and with each number that flashes in the elevator, you can feel your knees grow a little weaker.

kyle’s hands cup your face the second the two of you manage to enter your apartment. he kicks the door shut with his foot, and it’s up to your shaking fingers to secure the double locks. his eyes are all over you, fleeting over your face and your shoulders and your abdomen. the adoration in his eyes is open, intruding, piercing even the most hidden pieces of yourself.

“god, i can’t wait to get you in bed,” he says, breathless, finally tugging you in for the kiss your lips craved. his tongue strokes your bottom lip, joins yours in your mouth, pushes past the barrier of your teeth. you can’t help the whine his throat captures. he pulls back, and he looks at you like you’ve hung all the stars in the sky, and he devours your body with his gaze.

“so take me there,” you finally bring yourself to whisper, tugging at the collar of his t shirt. the fabric is soft, though not as soft as you know kyle’s fair skin is. you’re desperate to feel it, to drag your teeth along it, to taste it.

“lead the way.” it’s breathless, and depraved, and desperate, and it’s festering a mess between your legs. you take him by the wrist, grip gentle despite the harsh arousal your thighs are smothering. everything is smothering you. the shirt you’ve peeled off on your way to the bedroom, the shoes you’ve kicked off in the hallway, the hair you’ve already pulled away from your neck.

it’s when you enter the bedroom that you discover the cause of all his anxiousness. the bed is draped in rose petals, ever so cliche, and candles are freshly lit along the nightstands. a bottle of vodka rests in the center of your duvet, candlelight glinting off the clear fluid. you could cry. you might, actually. it’s cliche, and sweet, and kyle knows how much you love cliches. he knows how much you hate champagne too, so the vodka is a nice touch.

“kyle.” it escapes your lips in a breathy whimper, a sound you’re quite familiar with at the hands of your boyfriend. he’s practically buzzing behind you, and now in front of you, eyes searching your face and hands searching your shoulders and neck. you tug him in, take his lips in the most passionate kiss you can manage. your fingers are practically clawing as his arms lift you by your thighs, palms taking purchase of your hips, your back falling flat against the soft mattress you’d insisted you needed when you’d moved in. you don’t regret it now, with your legs around kyle’s waist and his lips exploring the span of your neck.

“kyle.” it comes out different now, more choked and desperate. you can feel his arousal against your clothes cunt, the pressure sending goosebumps across your skin. his fingers are there, tugging your pants from your legs, gripping your underwear and pulling so forcefully you’re afraid he might rip them. actually, no, he did. he ripped them. you can’t find it in yourself to be angry, not as the pads of fingers are tracing the folds of your wetness.

“you look so good down there,” he breathes, and you can feel that he means it. the bulge in his pants is present against your inner thigh, pressing into your skin as his fingers press into you. your hand stays stationed in his hair, tugging softly, back arching as he sinks to his knees. it’s a sight you don’t think you could ever be tired of. his curls are just visible over your hips, eyes trained on your face as his tongue tentatively traces the folds he’s buried his fingers in.

he curls them, presses his tongue flat, draws the lewdest sounds from your chest. you feel like you could pass away and be entirely unbothered, as long as you’re passing this way. his tongue massages your clit, his fingers massage the spongy gland buried within you. it’s a sickly sweet ecstasy that brings you closer with every flicker of his tongue and every curl of his fingers.

and even after you’ve came, legs shaking and cries flying from your throat, his long digits never leave the wet cavern of your spasming cunt. his mouth takes yours and you can taste yourself, a distinct flavor switch from the sodas you’d been drinking at the party. it’s hot, and you’re bothered, and you want him more than you’ve ever wanted anything.

“please, kyle,” you huff, rolling your hips against his plaid trousers. he looms over you, trails molten kisses against the soft skin of your throat. “i need you. please.”

his fingers leave you long enough for his hands to tug off his pants, and then his cock is prodding at your entrance. you tilt your head back with a soft sigh, fingers wrapped around his shoulders, abdomen tightening with the sweet anticipation.

“okay?” he asks, and his eyes are so raw and excited that you can’t do much beside nod. a shared moan passes through the space between you as he sinks in, his mouth swallowing every noise you have to give. it’s sweet, it’s passionate, it’s everything you’ve ever wanted and more.

his hips snap against yours, jolting your entire body. it’s a repetitive process, his cock sliding in and out with such precision you question his enjoyment. it takes one look at his face to throw it all away. his eyelids are screwed shut, but you can see his eyes darting around beneath them, and his mouth is dropped open in pure ecstasy. you could cum from just the sight.

“you’re so beautiful,” you utter through incessant moans and whines. he finds it within himself to smile down at you, though it turns to the same pleasured expression as your walls tighten around him. his breaths come in grunts and yours come in whines, increasing in volume as a hand drops to massage his thumb into your aching clit.

“cum for me, dove,” he groans out, cock twitching within you. it’s a short moment of heavy breaths and heavier kisses, and his lips swelling against yours, and a coil tightening in your lower stomach. and then it pops, and your legs are shaking, and you can’t hear the sound of your own cries. your fingernails are digging into his shoulders and it seems that is all it takes to shove him over the edge. his cock slides out, then it’s raining warmth over your thighs and stomach.

“you’re so good, so good,” he whispers as he kisses you, a cool wipe swiping over the mess he’d made. it runs over your sensitive cunt, cleaning away your juices, and his fingers rub your hip the entire time. you tug him in for a real kiss, deep and soft and everything you’ve ever wanted.

you’re sitting back against the headboard when he passes you the open bottle of vodka, your clothes abandoned in the hallway and bedroom, your hair equally as messy as his. you take a swig and let the alcohol swell and meld with the love you hold in your chest.

“happy birthday,” kyle mumbled into your hair, and you can’t help the smile curling your lips.

“it was a very happy birthday,” you respond. he chuckles and you burrow further into his side, absorbing every ounce of adoration he’s willing to give you. and it’s sweet, held in his embrace after he’d just given you the most passionate night of your life. it’s so sweet you can’t help the lovesick tears streaming down your cheeks and the silly giggle you let out.

happy birthday indeed.

[theresattrpgforthat]

Mint Plays Games: REDACTED MATERIALS (External Containment Bureau & Bump in the Dark)

As I continue to play with the Forged in the Dark toolkit and the different ways you can shift it to fit the genre of choice, I embarked on a small campaign of Bump in the Dark, which I've been itching to play for probably about a year at this point. I managed to pull together a group of 4 friends, and we set up 4-session play-through of a mystery together online.

At the same time, I also revisited my first experience with the Redacted Materials system, External Containment Bureau, by Mythic Gazetteer. The Redacted Materials system is a method of dropping the mystery mechanic popularized in Brindlewood Bay into Forged-in-the-Dark. I've played ECB a number of times, usually in a one-shot or two-shot. The system involves players gathering clues and crafting a theory using the pieces of information they cobble together to answer some key question.

Redacted Materials / Forged in the Dark

Like a typical Forged in the Dark game, Redacted Materials games both have you cultivate a d6 dice pool. When you roll, you look for the highest number: a 6 is a success, 4/5 is a mixed of success & consequences, and a 1-3 is a failure, typically with an interesting extra. In ECB, you answer a list of standard questions, while Bump has classic Blades-style Action Ratings. In both, you can spend Luck/Resonance to give yourself more dice, which culminates in a long-term consequences clock that allows for some flavorful character moments.

In Bump in the Dark, I made a story inspired by the examples in the book: teen lycanthropes, a church shrouded in mystery, and a giant elk that was menacing the town. In ECB I used a mystery I found for free on Itch: The Sidhe Conservancy of Portland, by VinMakesGames.

One thing I LOVE about these kinds of games is the amount of stuff the mystery does for you as a GM. The mystery clock helps you figure out pacing, and the clues are bite-sized pieces of inspiration that can help set the vibe, act as a life raft for a flailing GM to grasp on to, and propel the players into making interesting decisions. Couching the game into episodic mysteries also gives you an end point to look at. A short mystery makes an excellent one-shot (ECB). A longer mystery makes for a more drawn-out procedural (Bump). But even in multi-session games, the group can see the end point; this can make a game much easier to dedicate yourself to.

The Game Sessions

Our Bump in the Dark series had a number of punchy story beats. The group allowed themselves to work slowly on the mystery, checking in on the teens' families, musing on how the local church might be involved, and finding ways to make the most of their special abilities. I made 3 teen NPCs that could have been a body or a killer; the crew investigated each teen and I had to improvise elements of their home life as we went. I gave one NPC an abusive dad, another a large family with a suspicious shackle by the barn, and a third no visible family at all. One of my players made an observation that all of the teens who seemed to be suffering lycanthropy had shitty home lives: while this was never a direct clue, it became an integral part to the "why" of the mystery. It added a level of depth that I wasn't angling for at the beginning, but I was thrilled that my players decided to go there.

I've had a similar experience in a past session of External Containment Bureau, where I made a choice in one location to have an NPC seem to be unable to recognize the number 4, and while it never became an official clue, the PCs latched onto it. I carried that pattern to the other locations they visited, and part of their solution to fix the problem therefore had to include doing things in four parts.

My most recent ECB session took place on The Open Hearth, and involved the agents investigating a building that no longer appears to be standing, and small forest appearing in its' place. The PCs had to deal with an affliction of flowers growing out of peoples' heads, and a strange coffee shop that appeared to have chased out all surrounding competition. The solution involved offering a group of pixies a job with the Bureau, and trying to hide a portal to the faerie realm under the guise of a new coffee franchise. Because the entire game was a one-shot, we started with partially created characters, and filled in a few details to customize the characters according to the players' preferences.

My Bump in the Dark spreadsheets, available for public use!

The Structure

I really appreciated the clue structure in both of these games, but even when I designed them, I didn't stick by them. I found myself coming up with new ideas as the players started talking theory and making choices. In both instances, I gave myself the liberty to change some of the clues or invent new ones to fit the story that was starting to unveil itself. I think this is something I'm likely to take with me in future games; appreciating the structure a mystery provides, while also giving myself the license to add as I go. The structure breeds improvisation: it gives you the vibes to start presenting clues to the players, but you don't have to stick rigidly to what's already there.

One of the things I find myself sometimes struggling with in other Forged in the Dark games is coming up with consequences for the players in the middle of an action scene: they might overcome an obstacle faster than I thought, and it can be hard to determine when a scene is over. In Protect the Child, I'm playing with faction clocks and a Run track, but so far nothing seems to hit in the same way as a mystery clock. External Containment Bureau and Bump in the Dark add an extra tidbit in their structure as well: consequences that the GM can draw upon when the action slows down and the group needs something interesting to happen to heighten the stakes.

The question is: can you provide the same pacing mechanic for games that aren't a mystery?

In Blades in the Dark, you know you are done when you've finished the score, or when everyone is taken out. Brinkwood does the same thing with a raid; Slugblaster with a run. In each of these games however, there can still be a list of scene pieces that can give the GM something to work with: details that flesh out a location, things a faction might try to do, a list of potential NPCs, and complications sorted by scenario. I'm likely going to have to re-visit these ideas when I flesh out the setting packs for Protect the Child, since it's somewhat setting-agnostic; potentially a list of consequences that might happen depending on what happens with the kid and the factions chasing you.

Another thing I really like in Bump is the character progression that ties story beats (and arcs) to mechanical advancement. You follow the story of your character by spending various kinds of XP in order to describe pieces of your characters' backstories, develop bonds as a group, and manage the various ways the game will try to beat you down. Bump in the Dark has something similar to Slugblaster in that you need to buy one arc before you get to another. (I'm currently playing Slugblaster, and I'll definitely have more thoughts about this when I finish.)

ECB doesn't have an equivalent to this, which means that your characters don't really have a reason to grow as a group. However, the setting kind of doesn't require them to have those connections: they're co-workers, first and foremost. This also makes ECB a great potential game for a one-shot, because there's much less character advancement compared to a stereotypical Forged game. Character advancement exists in the power creep, conspiracy theories, and the potential to transfer across departments, but it doesn't make your character experience a bump in power; it's more of a lateral move. If you DO get enough supernatural powers, your character actually just… ceases to be playable. They transcend mundane existence, and straight-up vanish.

My External Containment Bureau spreadsheets, also free for public use!

Final Thoughts

At the end of four sessions, I'm not entirely sure that I'm fully at home with the rules of Bump; not in a bad way, just that I have a hard time remembering how all the rules work. It's a great reminder of how much simplicity is needed for a first-time GM who's picking up a Forged in the Dark game - and perhaps even a veteran, considering that I run a LOT of FitD.

In Bump in the Dark, I never touched on strings, struggled to figure out arcs, and it felt like there's very few resources to increase your dice pool. I'm fairly certain that if I was to stick with the game a little longer, I'd be able to get more comfortable with these kinds of rules, and the fact that we were able to play most of the game without feeling like we were missing something, even though there were tools we didn't touch, speaks to the power of modularity in a game.

I don't typically run a lot of long-term campaigns, especially not with games like FitD or PbtA. My tastes are too broad, and my schedule too chaotic. That being said, I can see the draw of mastering complex rules, and developing a knowledge base that allows you to pull of some really cool payoff after weeks and weeks of effort. My experience with Bump in the Dark and External Containment Bureau feels like two ends of a spectrum; the same game system used for punchy, one-shot-friendly action as well as a more drawn-out, slow burn style plot. I'm still trying to find the right fit for Protect the Child; thematically, I want to be able to play the game as part of long haul, but I also want a version of the game that can be used to play a one-shot and still feel like the table has managed to engage with the main themes of the game. I definitely think modularity is the way to go.

[fsfghgee]

And what would happen if Sektor met Dark Bi-Han? Do you think this version of him also has his Dark Sektor? 👀

— Finally. The perfect replacement. — Finishing tightening the ties on Sektor's wrists to the metal bed, Sektor smiled in satisfaction. — Finally, I will have control of the Lin Kuei.

— Why bother stealing my clan?! Don't you have your own?!

— You are a lonely leader. Of all the timelines I have visited, you are the only one who does not have Bi-Han, Cyrax, Kuai Liang or Tomas to strengthen your leadership. No great Lin Kuei warrior guarding you from the back. So vulnerable… — Sektor smiled as she remembered the small number of Lin Kuei warriors she had killed before facing her counterpart from Liu Kang's timeline and winning. — It was so easy to get to you. How even Bi-Han abandoned you is a mystery to me. — Observing Sektor's silence and sad look, the invader smiled with realization. — He is dead, isn't he?

— Shut up.

— He is as strong as he is stupid. But do not worry, you'll soon be in the company of another.

— How can you abandon your Bi-Han?

— He doesn't deserve my loyalty.

— Why? What did he do to you?

— I don't owe you an explanation. — Finishing the machine's initialization, Sektor placed the futuristic helmet on herself before taking her place on another gurney. — Once I take control of your body and clan, I will be invincible.

— You're going to kill us both!

— If my test subject Cyrax didn't die, we won't either. — Sektor signaled for one of her cyborgs to activate the machine, and so he did. — Want some advice? Don't make him mad. The third beep is gonna hurt.

“Beep”

“Beep”

— Aahhh!

_________#__________

— “Split up. We must find her!”

Still dazed and trying to get used to her new body and strange surroundings, Sektor got up as fast as she could. And ran when she heard Bi-Han's voice, followed by others approaching in a hurry.

— Argh, this fragile body. — Sektor cursed under her breath as she struggled to pull her foot out of the branches, opening a deep wound in her leg in the process. With her leg covered in blood and lifting her long red dress, she hadn't even been running for half an hour and she was already feeling out of breath. Out of breath in a way that she would only feel after several hours of training with her old body. — Where did that crazy woman send me? — Amidst the darkness of the forest, Sektor spotted some poorly lit buildings and, without much of a choice, advanced towards them. — Where am I going?

— Nowhere, doll. — Startled, Sektor screamed as she was grabbed from behind. And with her mouth covered, she tried to hit him with the elbow in vain, as he only let go of her after being severely bitten by her. — You dumb bitch! — Thrown away and with her leg still injured, Sektor struggled to stand up and face the Smoke of that world. — Your escape ends here.

— You've never bested me, brat!

— Ha! You never ever fought me.

— Maybe not in this world, but I taught you almost everything you know in my world and you were one of my worst students. — Still processing Sektor's words, he took the first blow and was surprised that she actually knew how to fight and had managed to disorient him. — Your incompetence is so great that it transcends time!

— Do you think I'm going to be defeated by Bi-Han's little toy?! — Sektor hid her surprise well when her kick didn't knock him down. She didn't know whether to blame her new weak body or her bloody leg from the earlier wound. — I'm going to do to you what Bi-Han should have done a long time ago.

_________#__________

— You never stood a chance.

— Sektor?! — Surprised to see Smoke unconscious on the ground and Sektor standing near the body, Scorpion threw his rope dart towards her, but before he could hit her, Sektor dodged and ran into the forest. — You can't hide from me! — Launching fireballs and burning foliage along the way, Scorpion cornered Sektor in a matter of minutes. — Try to escape and you'll burn.

— You rely too much on flames, Scorpion.

— I agree…

— Bi-Han?!

— Ice is sharper. — Surprised to see Bi-Han appear behind her, Sektor looked from Scorpion to him and was frightened by the malice in his smile. — And precise. — He didn't sound or look at her with the same affection she was used to. If anything, he looked at her like she was a prey in his sights. — But what will you do to dispel the flames?

— Bi-Han… — No, that wasn't the Bi-Han she had fallen in love with. — I'm not who you think I am!

— Don't even try.

— B-Bi-Han… — Frightened by the flames that began to corner her even more after Bi-Han barely nod to Scorpion, she struggled to stay on her feet and think of a way out.

— Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice… — Crying out for an understanding from him that didn’t come and fearing for her own life, Sektor turned away from his cold white eyes to look up. — You won't be. — Bi-Han, foreseeing what she would do, threw a ball of ice that froze the ground before it could hit her, as she quickly climbed the tree. — Scorpion!

_________#__________

After jumping from tree to tree, escaping the balls of fire and ice, Sektor lost her breath and fell when she stepped on a branch too weak for her weight. She regretted it as soon as she screamed in pain, crying compulsively afterwards. Crying in a way that she had only done the day her mother had left the clan and the entire legacy behind, she had never felt so lonely. And she wondered what she had done to deserve that. She never imagined that one day she would see so much anger in Bi-Han’s eyes directed at her. That wasn't the Bi-Han she loved, it was a vile and despicable version of him.

— Take her.

— N-No! — Fearing the worst after being dragged by Scorpion's rope dart, she struggled to free herself and hurt herself even more. — W-Why are you doing this to me?!

— You know very well what you did. You always know very well what you do.

— I'm not her! Sektor invaded my… The Sektor of this timeline… S-She… Ahh..

— Your tears don't move me. And you'll pour them out even more after I teach you respect.

— Y-You… Y-You wouldn't dare.

— You're mine! — Crouching in front of her, Bi-Han grabbed her face aggressively, moving the long strands of her hair out of her face with the rough movement before squishing her face. — I do whatever I want with you.

— You. Are. Despicable! — Just disgusted by that version of Bi-Han, she spat at him with all the saliva she had saved and screamed in pain when he slapped her so hard that her face turned with the impact and drew blood from her.

— Tread carefully. I was never careful with my toys. — With a nasty stare and a frighteningly soft voice, he wiped the blood from her cut mouth while she tried to control the tears that fell nonstop in panic. — Mother always said that I don't play with my toys, I destroy them.

— I-I bet she would be proud of you now. — Sektor says sarcastically, ignoring her inner terror that only grew the longer she looked at him.

Bi-Han chuckles, almost laughs, enjoying Sektor's defiant look. He appreciated intelligent and sarcastic humor, but soon his cold laughter stopped and his expression hardened when he remembered what she had done.

— Your parents are dead, your siblings are dead, your lab and your crazy machine have been completely destroyed, your chamber no longer exists… — He stood up without breaking eye contact with Sektor, dictating everything coldly. He hoped she felt half what he had felt for her betrayal. — You will sleep handcuffed to the foot of my bed, you will walk on a leash wherever I go…

— Brother…

— Silence, Kuai Liang. — Ignoring Scorpion's clamour, Bi-Han continued emotionlessly. — Your life will be only to serve me and you will finish building the army you promised me or you will join your family in netherealm. Kuai Liang.

— Brother, she is not trustworthy. We should eliminate her before…

— Obey!

Scorpion sighed in resignation under his older brother's angry gaze, and reluctantly, carried Sektor after throwing her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

— I will keep my eyes on you. — He murmured irritably close to Sektor's ear.

— Take her to the palace and do as I told you. — Already some distance away, he continued to look at the woman as his brother walked away with her. — I'll make sure everyone regroups and returns to Arctika. — Without waiting for an answer, he looked at the burning surroundings with satisfaction and sighed suddenly tired. — Earthrealm can burn for all I care.

And upon meeting Smoke and the rest of the Lin Kuei warriors he had brought with him in the hunt for Sektor, he gave the order on what to do with the witnesses from the village:

— Kill them all.

......

[rabbitcruiser]

National Collect Rocks Day

Be a geologist for a day and see what interesting rocks you can find. Pick up a book on local rocks or hop on the internet to identify what you find.

Why not live out a childhood dream and be a geologist for the day in celebration of Collect Rocks Day? If you’re the type of person who can’t resist picking up a pebble or two at the beach, or is always on the lookout for shiny minerals when they dig the garden, then this is a chance to make time for finding attractive stones and crystals. People of all ages can use Collect Rock Day as a chance to search for precious and beautiful rocks.

History of Collect Rocks Day

The study of rocks and earth, otherwise known as geology, has been around since at least the 4th century. In Ancient Greece, Aristotle made some important observations about geological changes and the work in the field of geology continued on from there. As the Romans needed certain rocks to build their empire, they became particularly adept at studying, mining and acquiring various types of rocks.

While some folks might simply overlook the importance of rocks, others have a keen eye and can see the unique ways that the planet expresses itself through different kinds of rocks! Collect Rocks Day was established to show honor and appreciation for this interesting activity of looking for, gathering and maintaining a collection of stones and rocks.

How to Celebrate Collect Rocks Day

Get into the groove of Collect Rocks Day by joining up with some friends and participating in some events and activities. Start with some of these ideas for celebrating the day:

Collect Rocks with School Kids

On Collect Rocks Day, school teachers may wish to combine rock collecting with some learning around different rock types and how they are formed. Perhaps it would be fun to head out to a park or forest area, or even just the backyard, for kids to search for unique and interesting rocks or stones that they can collect and learn more about. Teachers could encourage students to check out books from the library that are centered around the theme of geology and rock collecting.

Once the kids in the class have been outdoors and have collected their rocks, it might be great to build a lesson around the concepts of geology. And don’t forget to create a display so that the rock collection can be viewed by other classes or even the whole school!

Visit a Rock Museum

One way to show appreciation for Collect Rocks Day would be to visit a museum that houses a professional array of collected rocks. The United States offers a wide array of geology museums within a short distance of most cities and towns. Check out one of these geology museums in celebration of the day:

Rutgers Geology Museum located in New Brunswick, New Jersey

University of Wisconsin Geology Museum in Madison, Wisconsin

Mines Museum of Earth Science in Golden, Colorado

Yavapai Geology Museum located in Grand Canyon Village, Arizona

Take a Rock Collecting Trip

For adults, Collect Rocks Day is the perfect opportunity for a trip to a fossil-filled beach in search of rocky treasures. Or why not experience something a little different and try panning for gold in a little stream or river? There could be an endless number of exciting possibilities for celebrating Collect Rocks Day in a memorable way for those who just want to get a bit creative with it!

Create a Collect Rocks Day Playlist

A superb way to celebrate any day is to be sure to have the correctly themed soundtrack to play in the background! Collect Rocks Day offers a wide array of songs that can be placed on a playlist through Spotify, Apple music or another platform and then played just for fun.

Try adding some of these rock themed songs to a playlist for the day:

Rock You Like a Hurricane by Scorpions (1984)

We Will Rock You by Queen (1977)

Rock with You by Michael Jackson (1979)

Crocodile Rock by Elton John (1972)

Source

[aceswritingcorner]

Desire paths have led to many things in life, and in some cases, they become forgotten through the years. Never walk in a quiet forest, you never know what you might just find...

-C.W: yandere themes, reincarnation, mention of lucidity, mentions of death; destruction; war/battle

Part one- here | Part Two| Ko-fi Link

--- ---

There have always been a number of gods that plagued the Earth for centuries, some are dormant whilst others lay awake. Tilling the land to become fertile for scavengers to plant and nurture the various, living beings that everyone helped take care of. Villages were scattered across the lands. Textures only known by the gods above painted the air in forms of whitened streaks as darkened clouds that rolled against the sky’s horizon. Clashing colors of smoky blacks and of greys that ranged from the darkest charcoal to the lightest shades of steel and smoke. 

Tiled roofs of imbrices and tegulae overlapped one another, as more important buildings were tiled with pieces of bronze, marble, or even gilt fired against the tiled elements. Communal buildings were shared amongst the people, worshippers, and travelers alike seeking shelter from the seasonal storms or the wrath of an angry god and goddess. Desire paths lead throughout the villages, leading animals and people to their chosen destinations. Many different paths strayed in different and similar directions, all leading to different desires chosen. 

One path, in particular, led to the temple of two special gods that observed and cared for the lands that were under their reign. At first glance, a new worshipper would have held the belief that the two opposing forces were paired together from their appearances.  Stories and tales portrayed the two gods as a form of yin and yang, diametrically opposed forces that lived in harmony with the other. The very few worshippers that managed to have seen the gods at the temple would say that they believed the wrong person to be in control of the dark and the light. 

Each god that lived in the temple wore a simple chiton made from sheer linen that showed their outlines lain against the fabric. There were two gods in specific that lived amongst the carved stones of the temple that stretched across the forested land. 

A golden-haired, lithe-figured god strolled throughout the quiet halls of moss-covered stones. A simple chiton covered his body, the fabric dyed a simple color of a dark, russian violet that complimented the god. He would be known as Yin. 

As commonly known, with every Yin, there is a Yang.

The raven-haired god adorned a simple, white, chiton that brushed against the solid stones of the hall as he gazed at the scenery with his passive husband. His physique was moderately different compared to his lithe husband, a stronger physique built his human form. 

Peaceful scenery filled the temple area, light streaked from the gaps of the leaves of the thick branches of the oak trees. Cracked and carved stones that built up intricate points of the temples edged walls as vines climbed between the cracks, morning glories peaking up into the sunlight. For a small moment, everything was peaceful with the quiet sounds of the linens as they brushed against the cusp of their ankles before stilling its movement. 

Sadly nothing lasts forever- 

Eons had long since passed from the temple’s once vibrant days. Many had come and gone from having their faith entrusted to the many deities that once roamed the lands, to forgoing faith in its entirety. Wars had broken out over gods and those that believed in them, murder and genocide streaked the world as olde gods let themselves fall comatose. Only a few lucky ones managed to bring themselves back into the world as different beliefs rose and fell through the world. 

Two gods were lucky enough to acclimate, favoring holding their power in those that believed in yin and yang rather than the old offers that the passing travelers would set down for safe travels across the globe. 

Neither were ever able to part from the massacred ruins of their temple, where they had once found love and joy in. Where peaceful sounds once filled the air; a deadly, chillfull quiet took place. A ruined temple standing in place of a god's wrath.

Rushed footsteps pounded against the dirt, unknown forces leading down the faded and overgrown desire path that led to a forgotten temple. To those who had forgotten, the forest seemed untamed. Overgrown with weeds, vines, and moss alike -shaping around hanging limbs and fallen trees- Everything had been destroyed. What once shaped pathways through the wooded land had become cracked and buried ‘neath scorned and scorched earth. 

Everything had turned quiet, yet no peace was found in the scorched woods. 

‘Faster.. Faster… Faster!’

Never travel alone. That’s what everyone always said, that was the rule. If you’re going to go somewhere, never attempt to travel alone unless necessary. 

Some tourists never seemed to listen. Antagonizing jeers of drunken men faded as you forced yourself to run faster, stumbling against upturned roots as decay coiled against the greenery. Nothing good would come if anyone stepped over the line. No one ever came back the same. 

The boundary line was something natives stayed aware of. The gods had set the burnt line years before anyone could remember, stories passed through generations to respect what they had done. Humanity had been the ones to set the first flame against the gods and incur their wrath; it was best to respect the line burned in stone from it. 

Fallen trees spread across the decayed land as bugs made their way across the rotting bark that they called home, or food. No one could remember what the old temples looked like, architects could only attempt versions of the temples; Pastiche architecture brought ideas of what the buildings could look like. 

What was once filled with vibrant life now cloaked itself with darker greens. Clashing against decayed browns, faded yellows, a hopeful speck of maroon and gold sparked against the undersides of the leaves. To have seen the forest in its once abundant state would be considered a dreamer’s wish. 

Natives who survived off the lands shared stories with their families, making sure that no one would attempt to break the boundary. It had been created for a reason. 

Measures had always been taken to make sure everyone stayed safe. Natives, travelers, and wanderers alike were meant to be kept safe from the line that featured the power that the gods held in their palms. 

Muted footsteps pounded against the ground, pushing through thorned stems that pricked at your legs as the plants brushed back to cover the faded desire path that led into the woods. The world was put on mute.

At least, that’s what it seemed. How else could one ever explain the unnatural quiet that lurked amongst the shadows, grazing its claws against your back to draw away lurking visitors and those that didn’t belong?

“Silence is the most powerful scream-” That’s all that could come to mind as you looked around the forest, chest rising and falling as you made attempts to catch your breath. Heart pounding in your ears as your eyebrows drew together, where the hell were you? 

Animals had long since fled away from what they had reserved as home when the first scream pierced the air so many decades ago. Measly things had stayed, broken stones and boulders that formed unstable foundations; trees fallen from being wounded –leaning against one another akin to a soldier fallen during battle. 

The gods were angered that day. Angered. Irate. 

That’s what the survivors had told the new generations, warning to never cross behind the back of a god. ‘Least they fear the wrath of what created the deafening yell, destroying the temple and all its remains. 

What was unknown, hidden beneath the layers of ferocity, was distress— a cry for someone, anyone, to bring them back. 

The world had become broken that day as the temple became destroyed and buried amongst the land, trees, and moss acting as a shield to cover the shelter. Some would utter words of disgust under their breath, others would simply turn their backs on the ruined building, but the few others– One word could only be said… 

“Beautiful…” The word slipped past your lips before you could catch it. You brushed your hand against the hanging vines, giving yourself an opening before slipping past to the other side. Mossy stones stacked against each other with carved divots. “This place—” You tentatively moved forward, taking small steps into the beginnings of the temple as you brushed your fingers against the stone. “Something bad happened…” 

Your words couldn’t have been more true, something bad occurred and no mortal man could ever have done the destruction. The temple's beauty still buried in the markings on its walls, as vines coiled like snakes against broken pillars. No mortal man could ever have caused this much destruction and yet, have kept the temple’s beauty alive. 

—-

“Sho, someone’s here.” His words laced with worry as he turned to look at his dark-haired partner. A shaky hand clasping the other’s for comfort as Hizashi knit his eyebrows closer. “I can hear the footsteps, someone’s here.” 

He whispered the last word cautiously as his partner gave a small look. Shouta didn’t have to say anything as he shared a look with the blond man, words needn’t be said as he gave a small nod. An unsaid rule took place as he let go of Hizashi’s hand, trailing his fingers against the other’s palm. They just needed to protect the temple, he’d protect it like always. 

— —

Your footsteps echoed quietly against the broken floor, greenery encased the broken, swirled patterns. The temple was broken, embraced with the heart of the forest instead as moss, vines, and climbing plants held the temple together. 

Glazed black and white chipped tiles patterned the mossy floor as your shoe nudged against a dirt-covered tile. Your eyebrows furrowed as you crouched down to look at the piece, it was just big enough to fit against your palm as you cautiously picked it up. 

“What?” You muttered, brushing your thumb against the dirt as white and black slowly became uncovered. “Yin and Yang..” 

You looked up, swallowing as your eyes grazed over the broken statues before slowly standing back up with the taijitu in hand. “This is a temple- That’s it, I’m going crazy.” A breathless, stressed smile pressed against your mouth as you gave a breathless laugh. “There is no way in hell that this place is what they were talking about.” 

This temple wasn’t supposed to exist, right? 

Stories about this place surrounded the town, the older generations would talk about the stories revolving around this place. 

“-’fraid so, buttercup.” 

A voice came from behind you as you jumped, clutching the stone tightly against your palm as your eyes widened at the man. This- This had to be a dream, you were dreaming? Right-? 

You swallowed thickly, taking a small step away from the man as your eyes ran over his form. The dyed cotton tunic that covered his upper body, was dyed a soft powder blue that seemed to match the untamed hair that sat atop his head -wild, unruly- almost like the mane of a lion that one would see when visiting.

 A bright grin that never seemed to leave the man’s face, bearing his teeth in a way one would approach a close friend that you haven’t seen in a long time. Even the man’s eyes, shining with the brightest capability he seemed to possess naturally. Electric blue- that was the only way that seemed to give some semblance of a name to the never-ending shades built up in the iris. 

A soft breeze brushed against the cusp of your pants as the small cloud that the man sat atop of dissipated into the air. This- This couldn’t have been real… The man held a strong build, with broad shoulders and toned arms. His skin tanned from what you could only guess was through years of working in the sun and yet he showed no sign of aging past his youthful looks, with bright eyes that held soft lines at the corners brought out by the smile he bore. 

His right hand curled around smoothed wood of a quarterstaff, the darkened oak seemingly light as a feather in his touch as he brought the staff behind his shoulders, lifting his free arm around it. His eyes never seeming to leave you as he cocked his head to the side in a soft gesture. 

“You remember them, don’t you?” 

He softly questioned, his eyebrows drawing together slowly as he mulled over the silence that filled the air. You had to remember them, it was only a few days ago that he saw you the last time with the others. When Sho and ‘Zashi would go in the gardens and they’d watch him paint the sky with clouds, blissfully enjoying the bright laughter and points of when one of you would teasingly make shapes from his creations. 

“ –Buttercup?” 

No. No no no… this had to be a dream. A messed up, lucid, hallucination… “You do know them, right?” The tanned man pointed a hand towards the taijitu still in your hand, the black and white perfectly swirled together. “You.. remember them.” 

It wasn’t a question. The man spoke clearly, confusion lacing his tone as he looked at you, his right foot slowly dragging forward before being followed by his left. How did you not remember?.. It was only a few days ago that he saw you last. He watched as you took a small step back in return to him moving closer, your fingers twitching against the soft edge of the symbol. 

“I- I don’t know you, I’m sorry..” You shook your head, swallowing thinly as you felt the anxiety slowly build inside your chest. This- you were just dreaming, it had to be a dream… 

[stromuprisahat]

... the basic tax had been the old household tax, determined by a census taken in 1678 during the reign of Tsar Fedor. This tax was laid on every village and landowner according to the number of houses and farms possessed (and made for crowded living because, to avoid taxation, as many families and people as possible crowded under one roof). In 1710, believing that the population must have increased, Peter ordered a new census. To his astonishment, the new census showed that in thirty years the number of households had decreased by from one fifth to one quarter. There was some real justification for this: Peter had drained off hundreds of thousands of men into the army, the shipyards at Voronezh, the work on the canals and the building of St. Petersburg, while thousands more had fled into the forest or to the frontier. But the new low figures also represented the helplessness of the government to overcome the stratagems of both nobility and peasants who were determined to evade taxes. Bribing the commissioners who counted the houses was a preliminary gambit. If this failed, the peasants simply removed their houses from the commissioners' sight. Russian peasant houses were largely made of logs or timbers notched at four corners. Thus, they could be un-notched in a few hours and either removed to the forest or scattered about. The census takers and tax collectors knew the trick, but there was little they could do about it.

Peter the Great: His Life and World (Robert K. Massie)

Upon his return from France, Peter decided to approach the problem differently, replacing the household tax with a version of the individual head tax he had observed in France. The tax-paying unit of this new poll tax was to be the "soul": that is, every male from infant to grandfather in every village, town or peasant commune. ... In earlier times, Russian peasants had been free to move where they wished, a right that made it difficult and sometimes impossible for landowners to meet their needs for labor. This crisis intensified in the middle of the sixteenth century when Ivan the Terrible conquered Kazan and Astrachan, opening to Russian colonization vast regions of virgin black earth previously inhabited by nomads. By the thousands and hundreds of thousands, Russian peasants abandoned the forest to the north and poured into this flat, rich country. Farms and villages in central Russia were left uninhabited; whole provinces were semi-deserted. Landowners, threatened with ruin, appealed to the state, and the state, unable to collect taxes from empty villages, reacted.

Beginning in the 1550's, decrees forbidding peasants to leave the land were issued. Runaway peasants were pursued, and in 1649 it was declared that any person who harbored them was liable to their landlord for his losses. In Peter's time, over ninety-five percent of the people were serfs; some were state peasants and some belonged to private landlords, but all were bound for life to the land they worked. Peter's new soul tax placed the peasants even more firmly in the hands of the landowners. Once the population of a district had been counted by the census, the landowners and local authorities were responsible to the state for producing the tax revenue based on that population; actual collection of the money was left up to them. To assist landowners in keeping track of their peasants and extracting these taxes, Peter decreed in 1722 that serfs could not leave a landowner's estate without his written permission. This was the origin of the internal-passport system which continues in use in the Soviet Union today. Eventually, the power placed in the hands of the landowners—to collect taxes, to control movement, to dictate work, to punish infractions—made each landowner a little government unto himself. Where his ability to enforce was threatened, he was supported by the intervention of army regiments permanently billeted throughout the countryside. In time, to increase the controls on peasant movement, any serf wanting to leave the land was required to get not only the landowner's written permission, but written permission from the army as well. The result was a hereditary, all-embracing system of permanent servitude. Most Russian serfs were bonded to the land, but not all. One great obstacle to persuading Russian noblemen and merchants to open new factories had been the difficulty of finding labor. To overcome this, Peter decreed in January 1721 that factory and mine owners could have factory serfs—that is, laborers permanently attached to the factory or mine in which their labor took place. Underscoring the key importance of building new industry, the Tsar also waived the strict rules about returning runaway serfs. Those serfs, he declared, who had fled their landowners to find work in factories should not be returned, but should remain where they were as permanent industrial serfs.

[kdram-chjh]

Kdrama: Numbers (2023)

Choi Jin-Hyuk and Kim Yoo-ri Drama #kdrama#kworld #choijinhyuk #kimyoojung #numbers #latestkdrama #latest

Watch this video on Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wW0jV9th4Lw

[dougdimmadodo]

Fireweed (Chamaenerion angustifolium)

Family: Evening Primrose Family (Onagraceae)

IUCN Conservation Status: Least Concern

Growing rapidly and reproducing very frequently, Fireweed thrives in areas that have been recently cleared of other plants due to forest fires or other disruptive events, earning it its name. Widely distributed throughout the northern hemisphere, it is a textbook example of a pioneer species (the first species of plants, or other non-motile organisms, to spread onto land that has been cleared of its previous occupants) ; unable to compete with taller, more “aggressive” species of plants that will have taken over older habitats, its seeds remain dormant in soil for years at a time, while adult plants may remain in small numbers in clearing or frequently-disturbed forest edges, or may be entirely absent. When a fire occurs the seeds respond to the heat and begin to germinate, allowing young individuals to emerge after the fire has subsided and most potential competitors have been eliminated. After sprouting, young Fireweed can reach considerable heights (potentially growing to be up to 2.5 meters/8ft tall, although in areas with limited resources they may never exceed 0.5 meters/1.6ft) and, upon reaching maturity, will develop numerous 5-petaled pink flowers each year that, once pollinated, develop into long strings of tiny seeds covered with cottony parachute-like structures that allow them to be carried away from their parent on the wind, settling in new ground where they may later germinate. Members of this species can live for several years, but as slower-growing but taller and more competitive plants gradually return to a cleared area Fireweed populations will gradually decrease as their access to sunlight and soil nutrients is reduced. As such, once an area has “healed” from the disturbance that cleared it, adult Fireweeds become rare once again, but the seeds they produced when more abundant remain dormant in the soil until another disturbance provides them with an opportunity to grow. In human-influenced habitats faced with near-constant disturbance (such as railways or roadsides,) it is possible for adult Fireweeds to remain abundant permanently, and the ease at which members of this species adapt to urban environments, combined with its impressive hardiness, has led to it becoming somewhat prominent in folklore, featuring on the flag of the Canadian territory of Yukon, being referenced in the works of Rudyard Kipling and J.R.R Tolkien, and earning the name “Bombweed” in the UK after large numbers of Fireweeds were observed growing in the ruins of bombed-out buildings leveled during World War II. Ecologically, various species of deer, bears and hawk-moths are known to feed on the leaves, flowers, nectar and seeds of this species.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Image Source: https://www.inaturalist.org/taxa/564969-Chamaenerion-angustifolium

[lordsovorn]

A game idea that's wildly out of my scope for now, but keeps rotating in my head from time to time:

An asymmetrical PvP strategy game with a focus on channels of communication, where your greatest opponent is the fog of war.

The premise: a Rebel spaceship that sought to mine a precious and dangerous resource on a frontier planet has been intercepted by the Evil Space Empire and crashed into dense alien jungle. An imperial force has been dispatched to locate the site of the crash and eliminate the insurgents. Little do both sides know, their confrontation also brings them into conflict with the numerous native Alien tribes, who seek to preserve their ancestral lands and the intricate bioengineered ecosystem they call home.

///

The Empire is the most straightforward.

You're the Commander of the landing mission, and a certain amount of resources has been allocated to your force, along with a schedule of resupply. Your goal? Wealth, glory, recognition. Not being demoted, fired and / or executed. Which, of course, is achieved by good performance on your mission - finding the insurgents and eliminating them using the least amount of imperial resources possible. Showing the native alien population who's the boss and establishing a long-term outpost would look good on your resume too.

Your superiors are orbiting the planet, ready to bring down the full might of an imperial warship on any given location, if you persuade them to do so. Even without that, Empire has a vast arsenal of artillery and aviation, well-trained specialists and hordes of drones at its disposal. In an open battle, nothing in this galaxy can match its might.

The battle before you, however, is not open.

Imperial troops communicate via radio, but the signal is quickly lost in the dense vegetation. As you advance through the tangle, you'll have to build a network of radio towers to keep in touch with your troops. Slow and steady is not really an option though - the insurgents will use everything at their disposal to disrupt your advancement. Burn the forests, dry the swamps or put exposed wires in them, fill the caves with toxic chemicals, level mountains with intense bombordment. Cut up the search area with roads and fences, send out reconaissance and raids (limited in size and number by availability of competent officers), arrange drone patrols. A lot of personnel and machinery is involved in the business of war, and you have to keep everything in order as the patience of bureaucrats runs out and you are forced to spread your resources increasingly thin.

As soon as your troops go outside the communications range, you can no longer issue direct orders to them, or receive any news in return - and this goes for all sides in this conflict. You might observe signal flares, or watch from satellites as the forest fire spreads, for example - but little more. Professional Imperial troops are well-drilled and obedient, and will carry out their orders to the bitter end - but conscripts are a different story, and ambitions of your officers have to be accounted for too. You'll have to balance instructing, giving orders here and now, maintaining the grid and your reserves, monitoring reports and bargaining with your superiors for assistance and resupply as you methodically scour this strange land and bombard all obstacles to your mission into oblivion.

///

The Rebels' predicament is a lot different.

Spread out in many escape pods after the crash, Rebel are initially very dispersed, and it is up to you to establish contact with various groups of survivors - whether by signaling where you are, or searching the hostile alien landscape while trying to attract as little attention as possible. Your central objective is to find the Mothership, the experts and resources needed for its repair, establish a base of operations around it, and escape as soon as you are able. Although small reinforcements might get through the blockade, Rebels aren't going to "win" through confrontation - there is little chance of beating the imperial force you're facing, and even if you somehow manage to get rid of the current Commander, more will surely come. You have to escape to fight another day - but if you manage to recover the mining equipment and dig up something valuable meanwhile, you may not end up empty-handed in the end.

For Rebels, it is too risky to establish any sort of permanent infrastructure. For the most part, each ragtag squad of your fighters will have their own radio equipment, acting as small flexible links in the web of command. You are always in danger of being intercepted though, especially in close proximity to enemy's forces and their electronic warfare equipment - so at times you might have to resort to burying communication cables, or relying on messengers and indirect signals.

Survival requires flexibility. In contrast to the imposing clockwork of the Empire, Rebel forces are multifunctional and often independent. Your soldiers' equipment and experience are very diverse, and most groups can be applied in a variety of roles and places - it is up to you to judge where would be best. As the leader of a guerilla force, you have less precise control over distant maneuvers, but you'll be the one to decide the overall strategy, the tactics used and the localized objectives; and the one to make sure everything is working towards your ultimate goal.

Your resources might appear severely limited, but necessity brings creativity. The entire imperial arsenal is just waiting to be stolen, hacked and turned against your enemy. Mines and ammunition, vehicles and drones are obvious. Lines of communication might be an even juicier target for subterfuge - this is an information war, after all. Niche imperial specialists or even regular workers could prove to be an invaluable asset, when liberated or otherwise "persuaded". This very planet too might become your weapon - trap your enemies between fire and water, pester them from caves and tunnels, and use the horrid mysteries you've dug up to a devastating effect.

///

It wouldn't be an exaggeration to say that the locals are reacting to all this first with surprise, then fear, and finally rage. The native Aliens have been unnoticed from orbit, nothing at the level of treetops betraying the sophisticated civilizations that inhabit this world.

You are numerous - with pure numbers, you could easily overwhelm the pathetic invaders. If, that is, you can persuade your fellow chieftains to lend their aid - and even then, don't expect they will accept your orders that easily. Alien tribes are isolated from one another and don't communicate much. On the one hand, you don't have to worry about being backstabbed. On the other, getting help will take precious time, and persuading allies to accept your strategy and synchronize their efforts even more so. Instant and precise orders are downright impossible - you'll have to make do with auditory signals and cries your enemies hopefully won't recognize, signal fires and glowing lights, as well as flying and walking messengers.

You are strong and fast. You were born here, you breathe this air with ease and confidence. You know each tree of the ancient forests, each twist of the tunnels beneath the ragged mountains. It is almost trivial for you to trace your enemies, and if you get close enough, you will make them doubt the certainty of their shiny husks and flashy guns again. Your forces are resilient and not to be underestimated in battle, almost entirely sustaining themselves from nature and fallen foes, but have very limited combat flexibility.

You have to be cautious though, since your resources are the hardest to regenerate. There is no one off-world to come to your aid, your own dead will take at least a generation to replace, your supplies and infrastructure depend on extremely vulnerable civilians, and your allies might desert you if things go too poorly for them. Moreso, each tribe you recruit to your cause will come from farther and farther away - eventually too far to make it in time at all.

Your greatest asset is the finely bioengineered ecosystem around you - not only your intimate knowledge of it, but also the furious beasts, swarms of flying and crawling monstrocities, and the endless semi-sentient landscape only you can communicate with. But that is, at the same time, a problem.

On the one hand, Aliens don't have an inherent pressing timer - you simply want to be left in peace, with your home and your people intact. On the other, the battle between your foes will invariably ravage both your greatest asset and your "win condition". With each plundered tomb and each enslaved village you are getting farther and farther from any semblance of "success", and, at the same time, with each burnt forest and each shattered mountain you lose precious opportunities to fight back.

///

In the end, the goals of each of the three factions are both flexible enough to allow non-verbal diplomatic maneuvering, but opposed enough to still pit them against one another in the end. There is no win-lose binary, in many cases you can take a small win over a devastating defeat. Or you can push your luck - and your opponents into a situation where they will have no choice but to unite against you.

Bonus: a game mode where some of the subordinate officers are other players. This way, they have an opportunity to learn the ins and outs of the game at a smaller scale, under the command of an experienced strategist - who, in turn, benefits from quicker, more nuanced and abstract communication and smarter subordinates.

[darklordazalin]

Azalin Reviews: Darklord Jacqueline Renier

Domain: Richemulot Domain Formation:  694 BC Power Level: 💀💀💀⚫⚫ Sources: Ravenloft (3e), Secrets of the Dread Realms (3e), Domains and Denizens (2e), Realm of Terror (2e), Domains of Dread (2e), Gazetteer III (3e).

Most Darklords are pulled into the Mists and “gifted” a land to rule (that is also designed to torment them) after committing an act of so-called evil. Others gain such titles through the act of killing another Darklord. Why one would want eternal torment, I cannot say. Self hate? Inability to recognize where they truly are? Oh and if you are thinking of doing the same, this ploy doesn't always work. Most Darklords simply come back after they are “destroyed” as even our tormentors will not let death free us from them.

Before Jacqueline Renier became the Darklord of Richemulot, her grandfather Claude Renier was Darklord. The Renier family was chased into the Mists by a group of monster hunters and their hounds when Jacqueline was a child. Most Darklords rarely remember much, if anything, of the land they came from, our tormentors erase such things from their minds. One must not believe a lying rat when they state they remember something when all evidence points to the contrary. 

The Reniers fled into the sewers and given the choice between death and a vault filled with a mysterious Mist, they chose the Mist and Falkovnia. Death may have been the kinder option than dealing with Drakov...The Reniers lived in the sewers of Silbervas in Falkovnia for a number of years before Vlad grew tired of their antics and ran them out of his Domain and into the Mists once more. This indicates that Vlad was successful in defeating the Reniers. Now that is a family history I’m sure Lady Jacqueline doesn't wish you to know of.

The Mists created Richemulot, which is mostly made of river valleys and untamed forests with the majority of its populace living in the three large cities. There is no known history of what happened in Richemulot prior to the Reniers settling there. The cities themselves were said to be empty when they arrived and like true scavengers, instead of questioning this oddity, the people merely accepted it and took up whatever residence they wished. To this day, only about a third of the buildings in each city are occupied by humanity, the rest lie abandoned and given over to decay and the infestation of rats.

Claude ruled through fear and manipulation, bidding his rivals and relatives (often these were the same) against one another. Jacqueline and her twin sister, Louise, were his protegees and he was always encouraging competition between the two for his affection and praise. That is until Jacqueline had enough of it and had a servant send him a drink laced with lye. Each wererat in Richemulot has their own unique 'allergin' and lye was Claude's. Not that I would advise anyone to consume lye in the first place... 

Jacqueline ensured she was there as her grandfather drank the poison so she could gloat as he died. But the poison wasn’t enough for her and she also pushed him through a window where he fell through the roof of the family kennel and was half-consumed by hounds before his body was retrieved. Considering the poison killed him before he hit the ground, this was quite unnecessary and makes it far more obvious to even the casual observer who was responsible for Claude’s death.

Jacqueline is just as manipulative and cunning as her grandfather was, ruling the land through secrets and bringing down her opposition through rumors and misinformation. It is said the nobility trade more in secrets than coin in Richemulot and that a commoner may gain status by simply hearing the right rumor and knowing how to weld it. 

Instead of pitting her family against one another, Jacqueline encourages them to work together, though she herself kills anyone that appears to be working against her. Only her twin sister is the exception to this. Curious. Does Jacqueline have some form of misguided affection for her sister? Is this why she has all of Louise’s lovers and friends killed? Regardless of the reasoning, it is abundantly clear that Jacqueline does not take competition for her affections well.

She is patriotic and wishes to bring prosperity to her Domain. Of course, the prosperity she strives for would result in the end of humanity, but she does try.  Though there’s no formal militia in Richemulot, she expects all of her people to take up arms to defend the realm. So, her defense is the equivalent of untrained peasants with pitchforks. Drakov’s ever-failing attempts at conquering her Domain must be particularly crushing for the little mercenary. Still, he seems to have created enough stir in Richemulot to encourage Jacqueline to sign the Treaty of Four Towers with Borca, Dementlieu, and Mordent in defence against the war-hungry, impaling-loving idiot. 

Jacqueline’s curse is to only appear in her rat form to those she loves. A fact she discovered when she fell in love with the nobleman Henri DuBois. She attempted to inflict him with her lycanthropy but he managed to not only escape that fate, but Richemulot as well. Jacqueline, a word to the wise, if one cannot accept you in your rat form, are they really worth all this pinning and crippling monophobia?

Jacqueline is a formidable combatant, but only when she is surrounded by her allies. She can speak with rats, take mist form like a vampire, and climb along almost any surface. However, when she is alone, her monophobia cripples her to a point where she can easily be defeated.

Considering the majority of her people do not know of her wererat affliction, her mastery of manipulation and control, and easy defeat of Claude; Jacqueline is not a Darklord to be underestimated. Though, if one learns her fears she can be easily taken out by a well-placed assassin. I will grant her three skulls.

----------------------------

Domain: Richemulot Domain Formation:  Unspecified (694 BC older editions) Power Level: 💀💀⚫⚫⚫ Sources: Van Richten’s Guide to Ravenloft (5e)

The “good” Doctor’s new guide indicates that Jacqueline is not a natural born wererat, but was inflicted with the curse instead. Does this mean one could simply cast ‘Remove Curse’ upon her person to effectively neutralize her? Or any of her family members seeing as she changed all of them herself? Our Tormentors rarely make things that easy, but a theory I encourage any with such abilities to try. 

Born into the Renier noble family, Jacqueline analyzed the changes in her city as the commoners became more wealthy. To Jacqueline this was viewed as a threat to her family’s position. Would a wealthy class of commoners abide by the rules of nobility if they have no need of them? And though Jacqueline shared her concerns with her family, the other Reniers ignored them, content with these inevitable changes.

Without her family’s assistance, Jacqueline was left to her own machinations. This eventually led her to discover a secret society of esteemed families that called themselves the Trueblood Council…which ended up being made of a bunch of filthy commoner wererats.

She was disgusted to find this filth in place of what she imagined as elite masterminds. Given the amount of gold she spent on gaining membership, perhaps she should have done a bit more research on them? Was it really THAT surprising they ended up being wererats considering their secret meeting location was the sewers? Regardless as she cursed and spit upon them, they made her into a wererat. 

Jacqueline easily adapted to her life as a wererat and swiftly infected all of the Reniers. Except for her twin sister, Louise, who resisted. For her insolence, Louise was disfigured and cast out. In order to gain control of the city, Jacqueline unified the wererats and together they created the Gnawing Plague. However, instead of becoming the savior to the people when they begged for her assistance, she let them die, finding her hatred of the commoners replaced with a hatred for all non-wererats. Who exactly are you ruling over if everyone is dead? Well, no one is the answer and the Mists took her after the last person in Richemulot died.

Now Jacqueline rules half-empty cities in the land of Richemulot, but can only maintain her rule by controlled releases of the Gnawing Plague in order to suppress those that would rise up against her. Given the apparently disposable armies of rats, wererats, and animated armor stuffed with rats she has control over, this seems an unnecessary tactic. Not to mention the populace cannot be all that intelligent given their lack of awareness of Reniers affliction. Jacqueline wears a shawl of rats, rat shoes, and a rat bracelet. Her love of rats could not be more apparent and the rats are known to be the cause of the plague.

No wonder she has no love of ruling over her idiotic populace. I doubt they pose any real challenge for her. Her torments are rather weak compared to other Darklords. She dislikes ruling, misses decadence yet causes such things to be nonexistent with her plagues and has to keep on creating plagues? I would take those anyday over what I have to endure.

Jacqueline can control and communicate any rat in her Domain and mostly uses them as spies. Otherwise, she is an inflicted wererat who has a love for creating plagues. Considering her control would easily break if the labs that created said plagues were destroyed, I consider this version of Jackie to be less powerful than in previous versions. 2.5 Skulls.

[kaivenom]

The Harry Potter World having a Spanish Wizarding School HCS Part 2

I give permision to use this info for OC's or inspo but please, give it the credit it deserves and not attribute the idea to yourselves and if you see someone using it, please tell me.

Masterlist | Part 1

Selection test for the Houses:

When students are about to enter the school, they are put in front of the Footbrige of truths, every student goes along and when they put a foot in there, the door closes.

It's a Footbridge (obviously) only iluminated by the glowing of the mirrors that cover every surface on the corridor. Students don't have to walk thru it, it moves alone, which means they can put all their attention on the mirrors reflections.

These mirrors have the same function of the selection hat from Hogwarts, with the plus of seeing the posibles futures. The mirrors show the students their best qualities, characteristics emotions and esential things such as posible looks for the wands, patronus, subjects were they would be great, etc.

People change, so future is not always predicted, that's why the mirrors only show posible options of the future based on who and how you are when you enter the school. Many students ended up not fulfilling any of these predictions.

When the footbridge leaves you at the end of the corridor, you have the statues of the animal of each house. The statue of the house you "belong" will have glowing eyes (there are cases where students had two options, that case they can choose). When you have your choice, you touch it and then one of the doors opens and you can reunite with the house chief and all your new mates.

House Feliardor

The house of the lynx, their colour is the yellow.

This is the house for the people with great sense of ambition and need for stand out among others. You need to have great motivation and determination to be in here, among with indepence and confidence in you instints. Even with all these autonomy you still need to have the capability to work in team with necesary. You have to be brave and adventurous with no fear to accept challenges.

The common rooms are placed next to the roof top of the principal building of the school.

To enter the common room you have to get thru a hole on a wall, which is hidden behind a tapestry. The tapestry changes for every person. Students have to observe it and decipher the code (it can be letters, symbols or numbers) that is hidden on the tapestry in order to discover the password to get thru the hole.

The thing is, if you try enter the hole without knowing the password or having failed at discovering it, the hole transforms in a descent that ends up connecting with stairs and drops you somewhere on the castle.

The room is decacorated with golds, yellows, browns, lynx patterns, hunt tapestries and a lot of plants. It looks like a very warm mediterranean forest. The furtnitures are made from wood and have many wild patterns with leather decorations and lanterns with yellow ambience lights. The most notorious thing is the big campfire on the center of the room (thanks to being on the roof top, they have a hole throught which the smoke goes out.

Their motto: Where ambition roars

Their emblem: a lynx with golden eyes surrounded by flames

House Tauraquium

The house of the bull, their colour is red.

This is the house of the strong and courage, the determination and the competitive ones. They are powerfull and impulsive, even to the point of getting violent. THey are loyal to the comunity and really protective, which makes them grupal. They really like to take the iniciative and celebrate parties.

This makes them the best at physical activities.

Their common room is ubicated next to the duel pavilion. The way to enter is very controversial for people who are not from the house.

You have a space between to statues of a bull. You have to run to that space and not decrease the speed, you have to believe you will get thru the wall. If you succeed, you get to the room, due to the high speed people gets in, the house mates always leaves cushions or matresses to help people stop and not get hurt. If you have fear, then you will bump into the wall. This is a very brutal way to get into the room but it's the one that describes better the values of the house.

The room is decorates with red, gold and black colours and a lot of metal combined with woods (ebony). Different chimneys are places among the room but the central space is free from any furtniture. This is because the space is where people celebrate battles, duels, combats and any kins of competitions, cause they like to challenge each other and resolve problems in there.

Their common room reminds a little of an arena.

Their motto: Strenght and loyalty.

Their emblem: a bull with red eyes and golden horns in a bullfighting arena

House Corvusnoct

Their animal is the crow and their colour are black or purple.

This is the house for the smarts and the curious, the investigators of secrets of any kind. They are independents and individualists, they adapt to any ciscunstance with their misterious behaviour. They tend to have a liking for obsure themes and prohibited subject such as dark arts, that's why other house members don't like to mess with them.

They are also known as some sort of mad scientists, for crating potions and doing weird experiments (thats why newbies from other houses are warned to not accept helping a corvusnoct student in homework, because they can end up beign the homework).

The common room is placed on the on the top of one of the towers, ussually called the crownest (el nido). To enter the room you have to get in a hall full of mirrors. There is only one correct mirror to go thru, if you fail it changes, if another students gets after you it changes too. To know the correct mirror, you have to investigate the room and use everything you can to discover it. Some students use special formulas, others guide themselves by the light (the one that not reflects it's the correct), others use sound. There is always a way or method to discover the right one. If you fail then you will appear in any other mirror of the school.

Many people thinks it's a bad system because it's problematic to go in and out, but corvusnoct students are domestic so they dont care.

The room has dark blues, black or purple. It's a very dark room but has the light necesary to read and guide yourself thru it, thanks to some green lights. It has big windows to have light thru the day, big book shelves and comfortable sofas to rest. It gets very busy during nights and has many metal ornaments.

Their motto: In darkness, knowledge rises

Their emblem: A crow with their wings spread, under it an open book with a black aura.

House of Vulpistuta

THeir animal is the fox and their colour is orange/white.

This is the house for the cunning, the cleverness and the creativity. The students must have the hability to change the reality and get their goals, they have to be persuasive and estrategic.

Due to their hability to change the reality, the students from this house are ussually good at transformations.

THat's why their common room is close to the transformation class. There is a hole in the wall, like a cavity to hide. To small fox statues guard the cavity. When you enter this hide place (it's really small, like one person) you will hear a rythm. You have to imitate it with your palms, with tapping (taconeo) or your voice. If you fail, you wil recieve a small electric cramp, which lets you shivering for five minutes.

The room is the definition of light, all with light colours, big windows and plants. They have a lot of mirrors and a large corridor from the entrance to the room, which is also a large bridge with windows.

Their motto: cunning and clever.

Their emblem: a white fox smiling with their snout up in a superiority form.

House Ursadae

This is the house of the bear and their colour is brown.

This is the house of the people with strenght and power but great sense of comunity/family and calm or cautious behaviour. They won't attack if they are not provoked, contrary to what tauraquium student's do. They are very protective and have a lot of patience.

Their common room is underground, near the botanics. Their entrance simulates a cave without light, you have to get the strength to go thru it. When you go to the end you see a light you can go thru if you were brave. If you go with fear the you will bump to the end, but no light or common room.

The room has many small fireplaces with a lot of stone and leather. There are glowing lanters and earth colours are everywhere. They have big common tables and round esctructures to sit together.

Their room is like a cave estructured on levels.

Their motto: In Unity there is strenght.

Their emblem: a bear scratching a tree.

The house's entrance may sound a little extreme but they are secure and if you were selected to that house it's because you have the spirit of the animal and therefore the capability to go thru the tests. Only the house masters have the key to "desactive" the tests, but only in special cases. First year students are accompanied by older students the first weeks to help them adapt to the systems.

The ghosts

There isn't house ghosts in the sense of the word. This is because the only ghost that survived the fall of the previous school was The Cid, but for a long time the spirits were only school ghosts.

Later, when more ghosts appeared, they started to get favoritism towards some house or hate for anothers. There are five big powerfull and well known ghosts:

Enrique de Villena: the necromancer, the astrologist. He is a very devoted of the Corvusnoct students.

Alfonso X, the wise: live we said in the other post, he is a king and can be considered a founder of the school. So he has a preferencer for Feliardor and Ursadae brave and familiar values.

La lechuza (the owl): nickname for the powerfull woman that managed to serve and be a confident for many kings (such as prince Charles, son of Felipe II, Juan of Austria, etc). She has likeness for Corvusnot and Vulpistuta.

Rodrigo Díaz de Vivar: aka the Cid, the only ghost that survided the fall of the previous school. Nowadays he is a little crazy (due to that abrupt transfer between schools) and all he does is combat and challenge students or other ghosts. The historicians try to ask him about antique knowledge because he is the only source but he doesn't want to answer. He only said that before the fall he was Feliardor's ghost but now he likes Tauraquium too.

Tía Galga: witch of Trasmoz (she is the newer one, s.XIX). She likes to curse children and smack them in the cradle. She was accused for dark arts, curse people and other bad crimes. She is rarely seen and nobody wants to get close to her. She has preferency for Corvusnoct, Tauraquium and vulpistuta, and doesn't stand the other to houses so students avoid her a lot (she is very likely to do pranks on them). Anyone who wants to now dark arts must come to her.

[braveclementine]

Chapter 14

Warnings: 18+ readers only, smut

Copyright: I do not own any Wizarding World characters that J.K. Rowling wrote. I do however own Elizabeth Kane (main character) and Trang Nyguen (best friend). There should be no use of these two names without my permission. I also do not condone any copying of this.

"The small girl stares with wide brown eyes at each person who comes to observer her. A dark cloud of frizzy hair surrounds her head, stray leaves hiding within it. She holds a door knocker the way a smaller child might handle a rattle or a toy. Tightly. Protectively. 

"She has been placed in an armchair in one of the galleries, as though she is herself a piece of art. Her feet do not touch the ground. Her head has been examined and some concern has been raised over injury, though she is not bleeding. A bruise blooms near her temple, a greenish hue spreading over light brown skin. It does not seem to bother her. She is given a plate of tiny cakes and eats them in small, serious bites. 

"She is asked her name. She appears not to understand the question. There is some debate over how translations might work for someone so young (few recall the last time there was a child in this place) but she understands other inquiries: She nods when asked if she is thirsty or hungry. She smiles when someone brings her an old stuff toy, a rabbit with thinning fur and floppy ears. Only when the rabbit is presented does she relinquish the door knocker, clutching the bunny with equal intensity. 

"She does not recall her name, her age, anything about her family. When asked how she got there she holds up the door knocker with a pitying look in her large eyes, as the answer is terribly obvious and the people peering down at her are not very observant. 

"Everything about her is analyzed, from the make of her shoes to her accent as they begin to coerce single words or phrases, but she speaks rarely, and all anyone can agree on is that there are hints of Australia or possibly New Zealand, though some insist the slight accent on her English is South African. There are a number of old doors left uncatalogued in each country. The girl does not give reliable geographical information. She remembers people and fairies and dragons with equal clarity. Large buildings and small buildings and forests and fields. She describes bodies of water of indiscernible size that could be lakes or oceans or bathtubs. Nothing to point clearly toward her origin. 

"Throughout the investigations it remains unspoken truth that she cannot easily be returned to wherever she has fallen from if her door no longer exists.

"There is talk of sending her back through another door, but no one in the dwindling population of residents volunteers for such a mission, and the girl appears happy enough. Does not complain. Does not ask to go home. Does not cry for her parents, wherever they might be. 

"She is given a room where everything is too big for her. Clothes that fit reasonably well are found and one of the knitting groups provides her with sweaters and socks spun from colorful yarn. Her shoes are cleaned and remain her only pair until she outgrows them, the rubber soles worn through to holes then patched and worn through again. 

"They call her the girl or the child or the foundling, though the more semantic-minded residents point out that she was not abandoned, not as far as anyone knows, so the term foundling is inaccurate.

"Eventually she is called Eleanor, and some say afterward she was named for the queen of Aquitaine, and others claim the choice was inspired by Jane Austen, and still others say she once responded to the request for her name with "Ellie" or "Allira" or something like that. (In truth, the person who suggested the name plucked it from a novel by Shirley Jackson but neglected to clarify due to the unfortunate fate of that other fictional Eleanor.)

"'Does she have a name yet?' the Keeper asks, not looking up from his desk, his pen continuing to move across the page. 

"'They've taken to calling her Eleanor.' The painter informs him. 

"The Keeper puts down his pen and sighs.

"'Eleanor,' he repeats, putting the emphasis on the latter syllables, turning the name into another sigh. He picks up his pen and resumes his writing all without so much as a glance at the painter. 

"The painter does not pry. She thinks perhaps the name has a particular meaning to him. She has only known him a short amount of time. She decides to stay uninvolved in the matter, herself. 

"This Harbor upon the Starless Sea absorbs the girl who fell through the remains of a door the way the forest floor consumed the door: She becomes part of the scenery. Sometimes noticed. Mostly ignored. Left to her own devices. 

"No one takes responsibility. Everyone assumes someone else will do it, and so no one does. They are all preoccupied with their own work, their own intimate dramas. They observe and question and even participate but not for long. Not for more than moment, here and there, scattered through a childhood like fallen leaves. 

"On that first day, in the chair but before the bunny, Elanor answers only a single question aloud when asked what she was doing out on her own. 

"'Exploring', she says. 

"She thinks she is doing a very good job of it." 

I'm relieved to see that Remus is fast asleep by the time the story ends. I wasn't a huge fan of the end of it, seeing how the girl had to learn to live by herself, even as a child. That none of the adults around her want to take any responsibility. It felt wrong, frankly. 

"The stories connected." Severus' voice jolts me a little, keeping me from my thoughts. I looked up at him to see that he's looking at me through the reflection in the mirror as he fixes his tie. I smile a little, seeing him in the muggle tuxedo. He looks dashing in it. 

There is a knock at the door then. Seven, then two, then three. Trang is here. 

I open the door to see her, with a backpack on her shoulders. "Hi." She smiles. As she takes Remus from my arms, she coos at him in a baby like voice. 

It's winter vacation already and Trang didn't go back for the holidays. Severus and I are going to be using her as a babysitter tonight as we go out. 

"Thanks for doing this Trang." I murmured, going over to the mirror as Severus left it, so that I can fix my hair and apply a bit more makeup. 

"Of course." Trang said, "Besides, I miss my little godson." 

I smiled at that, dabbing blush against my cheeks while Severus grabs a muggle winter coat, tapping it to become a wizarding cloak so if someone sees him leaving tonight, no one will look twice at him. 

My own dress in a dark midnight blue with silvery sparkles. Severus bought it for me for tonight. I admired myself in a mirror for a moment before Severus came over, putting his hands on my waist, his voice whispering in my ear, "You look good enough to eat. Maybe we can skip dinner." 

"And that's my cue to leave." Trang muttered, breaking the spell. She hoisted Remus up in his arms, leaving the room to the room across from this one- a sort of unused guest room. I think she had a good idea that Severus and I were going to come back and need some alone time. 

Severus rolled his eyes, pecking my cheek. "Ready to go?" 

I nodded, swallowing my nerves, turning into my silky black cat form, hopping into his traveling clock pocket and tucked my head down. 

I didn't look out his pocket the entire time and he never broke stride so I didn't know if he had seen anyone or not. I tucked down even more as I felt chilly wind fly just a little over my ears. Severus' hand dipped into the pocket, his hand against my side, stroking it a little as he walked now. 

He walked for twenty more minutes- taking a different route so that he was unseen by any of the Hogsmeade villagers- and also to avoid the charm that was placed on the village. 

He lifted me out of his pocket and put me on the ground so that I could become human again. I took his hand in mine, taking charge of apparating this time, and we appeared on the back porch of my old home. 

I opened the door cautiously, ready to flee at a noise or movement. But there was nothing except what dad and I had left there, covered in a layer of dust. 

"It's a nice house." Severus hummed suddenly, looking at a picture of me on the wall. Dad was hugging me from behind as he sat in a leaf pile that I had jumped in. It had been one of the rare days Mad-eye had stayed over. He'd taken the picture of us. 

I felt a lump in my throat start to grow and so I looked away. "Yeah." 

Severus squeezed my hand as I opened the front door and we left the house, walking up the street. We headed into town, seeing that it was fairly empty and I led the way to a brightly lit Chinese restaurant called Panda Inn. 

It was actually packed, which I was slightly surprised about, it being Christmas Eve and all. We took seats near the back, the two of us sitting across from each other in the booth. 

The restaurant looked adorable, with lots of red Chinese lanterns hung about the room. Dark trimming lined the room, with soft music playing from the speakers in the back. I could smell the chicken cooking in the back of the restaurant. The lights were dim, mostly using light from candles on the table. 

"Elizabeth!" A slightly older male voice said excitedly. I looked up to see mine and Trangs' favorite server, Danny standing there. He'd grown his block hair out to be floppy around the ears and was wearing dark green glasses. We'd both had something of a crush on him growing up, though he regarded as us playful friends. 

"Hi Danny." I said with a small smile. "How are you?" 

Severus was sitting a bit stiffly now, eyeing Danny with an equal mix of distrust and jealousy. 

"Great. Whose this gentleman?" Danny inquired, looking over at Severus. 

"This is a friend of mine, Nicholas." I lied. We figured it was best if we didn't use Severus' real name. 

"Nice to meet you Nicholas." Danny said easily with a huge grin. "Alright, what can I get for the two of you or do you need a minute to look over the menu?" 

"Um, perhaps a minute. It's his first time." I replied easily. "But I'll get a glass of white milk and a water." 

"And for you sir?" Danny asked. 

"Just a water." Severus replied uncertainly. 

"I'll be right back with those drinks." He walked off, leaving the two of us alone for the time being. 

I smiled happily as I looked over the  menu. For once, it felt like a normal night. Severus and I were out on a date while Trang babysat Remus. This was how our life should be. Could be. If I could just keep him alive. 

But I vowed I wouldn't think of anything like that tonight. I really just wanted to have a good night. 

"Okay so what do you usually get." Severus said, looking at the menu. 

"Orange chicken with fried rice. I used to get Lo Mein, but I don't really like the vegetables in them so I just stick with the fried rice. I don't think you'd like the orange chicken though since it's super sweet." 

In the end, I order double orange chicken with fried rice while Severus got half white rice, half lo mein with half Beijing Beef and half Black Pepper Angus Steak. 

We tried making mundane talk, but it was very hard. Severus didn't know much muggle conversation so I supplied most if it while he listened, a small smile breaking out on his face as he did so. 

We shared a small chocolate dessert before bundling up for the cold again and walking outside. We continued to walk down the street, gloved hand in gloved hand. I was content, hugging his arm as we walked. He looked down at me with such love in his eyes I thought I was going to burst. 

It started to snow, small flakes of white drifting down to rest in our hair. He stroked a finger across my cheek, before we came to a stop, a small flow of people heading inside of a building. 

I looked up, seeing that it was the church, the midnight service about to start. I looked up at Severus, a question on my lips, which he kissed away. He led me to the wide double doors and we walked into the cathedral. 

I had loved coming here as a kid. Dad hadn't been super religious, but he had wanted to introduce me to the church. I had done lots of Sunday School here and had continued coming every once in a while to sit in 'adult church'. I had never missed a Christmas Eve sermon however, until I had started at Hogwarts. 

We sat in the back near the stained glass window that showed Noah's ark breaching dry land. A rainbow in the background, standing firmly as a sign of Gods' peace. Doves flew above the brown boat, olive leaves in their beaks. Two by two, stained glass giraffes, zebras, elephants, and lions exited the ark. 

Severus put his arm around me as the sermon started. I had always loved listening to the stories of the birth of Jesus. They seemed so magical somehow. Miraculous. 

Candles were passed out so that we could sing Silent Night. Being in the back and on the end of the pew, my candle was the first one lit. Severus leaned his over so that we could touch them and I felt something like hope spark inside of me as his was lit too. 

Silent night, holy night! All is calm, all is bright. Round yon Virgin, Mother and Child. Holy infant so tender and mild, Sleep in heavenly peace, Sleep in heavenly peace

I suddenly felt the empowering knowledge that he was going to survive. He was going to live. I watched as he touched flames with the woman next to him, an older woman who couldn't stand. He had stooped over, gently cupped the back of her candle holder so that her flame would light. She gave him a soft smile before turning to her husband. Someone as good as him couldn't die. 

Silent night, holy night! Shepherds quake at the sight. Glories stream from heaven afar Heavenly hosts sing Alleluia, Christ the Savior is born! Christ the Savior is born

Severus did not sing, instead listened to me sing. I had never been a great singer- not in my mind at least- but my voice seemed to have an affinity to Christmas songs. 

Silent night, holy night! Son of God love's pure light. Radiant beams from Thy holy face With dawn of redeeming grace, Jesus Lord, at Thy birth Jesus Lord, at Thy birth

Severus pulled me close to his side, his arm tight around my waist as he rested his chin on the top of my head. "I love you Elizabeth." 

I looked up at him, a single tear trailing down my cheek as I sang, not answering, but he knew anyways. 

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

Silent Night. . . 

I stirred, feeling the slightly chilly air in the room. 

Holy Night. . . 

I blinked my eyes open, noting Severus was laying next to me, still wearing his dress pants and shirt, though he'd tossed the jacket and bowtie off. I was still in my dress and stockings, tucked warmly under the bed. 

Silent Night. . . 

I sat up slowly, groaning. We had crashed when we'd come home, Severus apparating us straight up to our room after we'd exited the church. Being headmaster, he'd always been able to do this, we just hadn't wanted to before. 

I slowly slip from the bed, reaching behind me to pull the zipper down, when a larger hand takes mine, moving it away. Severus unzips the dress for me, kissing down my back as he does so. 

"Should've done this last night." His thick, sleepy filled voice murmurs sexily in my ear. "You look ravishing." 

I let out the softest of whimpers, the sleepiness gone from my foggy mind, replaced by a buzzing feeling of adrenaline and lust. His hands cup my arse as the dress falls down the rest of my body. 

His hand slips under me, two fingers sliding easily into my cunt, while a third rubs circles at my clit. 

My legs shake and I know they're not going to hold me up. Severus' hand withdraws and he pulls me back onto the bed. I sink into the pillows, looking up at him as he crawls over me, hovering. I smile as he snaps his fingers, discarding the rest of his clothes. 

I go to remove the white stockings, but he stops me, smirking. I blush darkly as he takes my stocking-clad legs, moving one over his shoulder and he lowers his mouth to my pussy. I arch slightly on the bed, trying my hardest not to move as pleasure radiates through me. 

"S-Se- Severus." I pant out as he adds three thick fingers inside of me. I arch again, this time writhing slightly until he uses one large hand, holding my hips down firmly. I pant, cunt clenching tightly around his fingers. 

"Gonna- need to-" 

"Cum." Severus demands. 

I cry out his name, back arched as I cum on his fingers. He watches with heavy, lust lidded eyes, slowly retracting his fingers. 

"Severus." I beg without actually begging, but he answers me anyways, lifting my hips so that he can slide into me, hovering over me. 

I sighed in content, closing my eyes, letting the euphoria wash over me. It's such a wonderful feeling, especially as his lips capture mine, his teeth lightly digging into my bottom lip. 

"I love you." Severus whispered, his thrusts hard and slow. He bottomed out with each one, sending an intense wave of pleasure from my toes to my head. I simply hang onto his shoulders, nails digging into the flesh there, riding the waves out. "Cum." He commands, feeling that I'm close and the dam breaks, my liquids gushing all over his prick. 

He rides out my wave now, thrusting more quickly, building up another wave. I open my eyes because I want to see him as he lets go.

"Elizabeth." He whispers and I cry out, feeling the second wave cresting. 

"SEVERUS!" I shout, unable to stop myself, even if Voldemort himself was out in the office. My vision becomes hazy, dotted in black and white as I slump back against the bedsheets. 

"Merlin I love you." I mumble, as Severus stills himself, having released inside of me. My eyes flutter open, blinking away the gray that danced in front of my vision. 

"Jealous." Severus teased. "Say my name too Elizabeth." 

I giggled, curling up against him. "I love you the most Severus, don't worry." 

"Good." Severus said plainly, kissing the top of my head. "Now how about a bath before Trang wakes up and brings Remus here for a feeding?" 

I rolled over and race to the bathroom door, "I get to choose the temperature!" 

"NO!" Severus shouts, running after me and I giggle as we spend the rest of the morning playfully. 

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

It's Remus' first Christmas, and it's our first Christmas as a family. Severus got a camera from somewhere and we take pictures, marking our memories. I already have an album- a gift from Trang- and I put the pictures in there, labelling them on the back. 

I feel a little sad as I put it together though, looking over to watch Severus fly Remus above his head. It feels like what Hagrid did for Harry. I shake my head. No, we would be different. Remus would have a different future from Harry and me. Remus, at the very least, would have a mom. 

"Say hi to mommy." Severus coos, sitting down next to me, bouncing Remus in his arms. He grins at me. I love how infectious his smile is, as I smile back, blushing red. 

"Hi sweetheart." I coo back, taking Remus into my arms. "Are you liking your first Christmas, hmm?" 

I had gotten presents from dad as well. Three new Stephen King books that I couldn't wait to read. They hadn't come with a note, but I knew they were from him anyways. 

Severus had also given me a present, which turned out to be jewelry. It was much like the set he'd given me last year for my birthday, but this set was bright in its colours. Red and purple patterned. 

"It was my mothers." Severus murmured quietly as I had looked at him, stroking my cheek with the back of his finger. "One day, we'll pass it down to our first daughter. Perhaps when she gets married." 

Despite not knowing the gender of the two children inside of me, Severus was certain at least one was a girl. I liked the odds, though I wasn't certain. 

It felt to much like a good-bye present though so I thanked him and put it up on the dresser, before curling up in his arms, watching Remus play with his new stuffed animals: which mostly consisted of him laying on his stomach, waving it up and down. 

That night, we had a small Christmas dinner with half a ham.

Then we spent the rest of the night in each others arms, looking out the window at the stars until we fell asleep on the couch in each others' embrace.

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE! 💚❤️💚❤️🎁🎁🎄

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