#even leaving aside our ethical disagreements

[nevertheless-moving]

Invisible Hand Chaos AU x 2

Star Wars Time Travel AU #31

Continuation from HERE

Anakin whirled to face his Master, “Did you know Yoda had a baby?” he asked incredulous and slightly betrayed.

“What? No. Also he could just be another of Yoda’s species. Obviously.” Internally Obi-Wan thought about the still unnamed larva in a hidden aquatic creche, but the Mandalorian’s associate even called him Baby Yoda...

“Unbelievable,” Dooku muttered. “That little green hypocrite.”

“Did you know about this?” Anakin asked the Sith Lord, temporarily forgetting about the fight in favor of the revelation that Yoda might also have a secret family.

“Of course not, the troll never tells anyone anything,” Dooku ranted, deliberately setting aside the fight in favor of unloading decades of suppressed irritation with his former Master.

“I feel we might be jumping to conclusions here-” Obi-Wan offered weakly. 

Anakin scoffed. “He literally just called him Baby Yoda,”

“Loathe as I am to admit it, your apprentice is correct. It would seem the Grandmaster of the order has been keeping some secrets.”

“This is absurd!” Obi-Wan protested as the small child on the balcony above tilted his head curiously, watching the conversation below with interest from the safety of his Buir’s arms. 

“I agree.” Anakin said self-righteously. “If Yoda can have a baby then- then everyone in the order should be allowed a family.”

“Anakin...”

“Anakin, as interesting is this all is, I’m still in somewhat of a bind over here,” the Chancellor called across the hall, irritated and somewhat alarmed by the sudden outbreak of peace in the room.

“We’ll be right with you Chancellor, don’t worry!” Obi-Wan called back. 

“We just need a minute to figure some Jedi business out!” Anakin added. 

“You there- Mandalorian” Dooku called up sharply. 

“...Yeah?” the Besker-clad warrior answered uncertainly.

“What is the parentage of the child in your arms? How did you come to possess him?” The count's question cut through everything else in the room, and the two Jedi held their breath as they waited for the answer.

The Mandalorian pulled Grogu in closer, “He is a foundling. I know his name as my child.”

“Mandalorians,” Obi-Wan and Dooku muttered, Obi-Wan fondly, Dooku with exasperation.

“What?” Anakin asked bewildered.

“The Mandalorian adopted him- hold on a second, I’m going to try something.” Obi-Wan said.

“Mando! Forgive me- Have you already attempted to return your foundling to his people and been denied? If not, we can show you where to find an elder of his kind.”

The Mandalorian stiffened. “I already found one of his people. It took a great deal of time; neither of us knew there were any others left in the galaxy. By the time I met Luke...the child was mine and we would not be parted long. The three of us began traveling together. He acted as mentor to Grogu, though he is too young to be considered the boy’s senior. In time...we decided it would be simpler to raise him as a warrior together. We are one.”

“Oh. How wonderful.” Obi-Wan said weakly. 

Anakin’s brow furrowed furiously and he lowered his voice “Master did I get that right? This guy is really good friend’s with one of Yoda’s people but the friend is not the Child’s biological father and they don’t know anyone else from the species?”

“He actually said he was married to one of one of Yoda’s people but other than that your conclusions are correct. Very good Padawan.” Obi-Wan nodded, attempting to wrap his head around the various implications.

Dooku made a triumphant hum, “Then, by simple inductive reasoning, and in the absence of an alternative candidate, we can assume that the Child is, in-fact, Yoda’s offspring.”

“Exactly!” Anakin agreed with Dooku excitedly. 

“Interesting that he would give the spawn to a Mandalorian, rather than the creche. Embarrassment, perhaps.” the Count mused. 

“Unbelievable.” Anakin agreed indignantly. 

“Ok, now hold on. Foundling is pretty literal most of the time-” Obi-Wan interrupted. “Mando- was the child entrusted to you or did was there a rescuing involved?”

“...I was assigned to find him as part of a bounty, but found the imps who I was supposed to give him to...unpleasant.”

“Imps?” Anakin asked. 

“There you go!” Obi-Wan said, with just a tinge of hysteria. “Yoda didn’t abandon the child- not that it necessarily is Yoda’s child- he was kidnapped.”

Anakin gasped, “Master! We have to save him!”

“Hold on now, Anakin- He seems perfectly safe at this point and we were here for the Chancellor remember?”

“You won’t be leaving here with the Chancellor or the child.” Dooku sneered. “I can sense the force potential- and I am in want of a new apprentice.”

“Over my dead body,” Anakin snarled.

“That can be arranged.”

“Hey Luke-” the Mandalorian said into the comm as the three swordsman began circling one another “-it looks like two of the Jedi are attacking the other- do you want me to get involved?”

“...Din, by any chance, are any of the laser swords red?”

“Yeah, the fanciest dressed one has a red lightsaber, the other guys are blue. Does it matter?”

“...Red lightsaber means not Jedi. I- hold on, I think I see you!”

The three combatants jumped apart again, looking up at the slight comm echo to the sound of footsteps and the absolutely blinding force presence of the approaching Jedi. 

Had he never learned shielding? Obi-Wan thought hysterically. “Or was he just so powerful that he never bothered restraining himself?”

He tried to exchange a glance with Anakin, but his padawan was too focused on straining to see the incoming Master force user of some kind- light, but not necessarily Jedi. He instead looked over at Dooku, shrugging in confusion. Dooku grimaced back at him in solidarity.

The being finally entered. He was- significantly taller and less green than Obi-Wan was expecting, but still probably shorter than anyone else in the room.

“Din- are you two alright?” The soft-faced man asked in a remarkably gently voice, appearance somewhat at odds with the overbearing power he exuded.

“We’re fine, Luke but look! More Jedi!” He gestured below. 

Luke peered over the balcony, eyes growing wide as they passed over the faces of everyone below. “hoLY KRIFF!” He shouted.

The ship shuddered and Obi-Wan glanced nervously out the view ports, suddenly remembered that the damaged ship only had so long before it fell out of orbit.

“Do you know them?” Din asked. 

“Do I- for fuck’s sake Din, I love you but I have literally shown you holopics of my father before.” Luke whispered furiously. The room unfortunately was utterly quiet and remarkably acoustic, meaning his words carried easily to the listeners below.

“FATHER!” Anakin yelled, causing Luke to wince, slapping a gloved hand to his face.

“FATHER!” He repeated loudly, head ping-ponging between Obi-Wan and Dooku as if trying to find a resemblance, before gasping to stare at the Chancellor, before gasping again to squint at Obi-Wan. 

“DOES EVERYONE HAVE A SECRET FAMILY!” He shouted, throwing his hands up in exasperation.

“Oh for force sake- I do not have a secret son. Honestly, Anakin, he’s clearly in his 20s, be reasonable. His birth would however fit into the timeline of Dooku’s withdraw from the order.” Obi-Wan said, raising a brow.

Dooku puffed out his chest, “I did not fail to meet the Code, like so many of the pathetic masses. Before I left the Order I followed the rules precisely. When my disagreements grew too great, and my attempt for structured reform were repeatedly rejected, I left for ethical reasons, not personal ones. I looked at the code and decided it was failing the Jedi.”

He smirked and lifted his chin at the chancellor, who was watching the proceedings with an inscrutable expression, “My, my Chancellor, this is an interesting surprise.”

Anakin rolled his eyes. “We’re not idiots, Dooku. Obviously the boy’s parents were force sensitive, look at him.” 

Dooku’s smirk grew wider.

“This is absurd! Again!” Obi-Wan threw up his arms and lifted his head to address the dark-robed young human, “Hello there, Luke, was it?” 

“Uh, yes. I’m Luke.” The powerhouse responded nervously. 

“My name is Obi-Wan Kenobi-”

“Yes, I know who you are.” Luke responded drily.

Anakin gasped. 

“He is not my son.” Obi-Wan muttered.

“I’m not Obi-Wan’s son.” Luke called down cheerfully.

“Oh.” Anakin slouched, oddly disappointed. He liked this guy for some reason, felt- connected to him. Maybe it was the dark robes, or the force signature that nearly rivaled his own (though it was somewhat lighter), or even the gloved hand that he suspected was mechanical. If he was Obi-Wan’s son than that would make him practically his brother! The Chancellor might be neat but Dooku...ugh.

“Would you be so kind as to tell us whose son you are? I realize its none of my business but you’ve peaked our curiosity. And then afterwards, regardless of your parentage, we would not mind help in rescuing the Chancellor of the Republic from this slowly crashing ship.”

“Right. Right.” Luke nodded. “Would you give me a second?”

He pressed his head to the side of Din’s helmet and started whispering rapidly, to quiet for anyone else to hear. 

The group below exchanged glances, beginning to tense up again. After a few seconds, the Mandalorian nodded and spoke, “Let’s do it. I trust your judgement.” Luke grinned and returned to the edge of the balcony. 

“Ok, I can help with the first, but not the second.”

“Perfectly understandable.” Obi-Wan replied.

Anakin bristled. “So Dooku is your father.”

Luke smiled at Anakin. “No. You are my father.”

Anakin blinked as Obi-Wan’s face twisted in confusion. “No...” he said slowly. “No, that’s not true. That’s impossible.”

Luke’s smile grew wider, “Search your feelings,” he said urgently, with the full weight of his force presence screaming honesty with every word, “You know it to be true.”

Anakin gasped as he reached out into the force to find...his son. Impossible, but true. The ground trembled, either with the immensity of the realization, or catastrophic engine failure.

“No.” Obi-Wan said clearly to Luke on the balcony.

“No.” He repeated firmly, snapping a finger in Anakin’s face to try and break him out of the trance he seemed to be in. “It’s not true.” He said to the room in general, incredulous it even needed to be said.

Dooku began slowly backing away. The confrontation was rapidly spinning out of his or his Master’s control; he had only stayed this long to indulge vain curiosity. Regardless if the boy was insane, lying, or a time-traveler, he was clearly powerful. The ship’s orbit was gradually decaying and with any luck he could use his dead man’s switch to speed up the crash as he departed, neatly killing everyone who could stand against him in one stroke.

“Anakin,” the lunatic on the balcony continued, “You can destroy the emperor. He has forseen this. It is your destiny! Join me, and together-”

Din cleared his throat.

Luke stopped and smiled sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head. “Sorry! Sorry. Got a little...carried away there.” He coughed awkwardly into his fist.

“Anyway- yeah. I’m Luke Skywalker. I’m from the future, I guess we... time-traveled accidentally somehow? I uh- was kind-of quoting something you said to me once and you kept going along with it and... yeah, definitely got carried away. Sorry, I really don’t know how we got here but, weird stuff happens around me- one time I was on Yavin IV and these ghosts started- anyway. Long story. Surprise!”

Obi-Wan took a deep breath in and let it out slowly, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Ok...I might believe you’re Anakin’s son.”

Dooku had nearly reached a side door when his treacherous Master called out- “Anakin! Master Kenobi! Dooku- he’s getting away.”

Skywalker’s- Anakin Skywalker’s- attention snapped over to the Count and with a outstretched arm, he crumpled the steel door, throwing a beam across it for good measure. The ship moaned alarmingly and several more red lights began blinking at the navigation panel, unnoticed by anyone.

“Luke- son- I don’t know what Emperor you’re talking about, but help us defeat Count Dooku and save Chancellor Palpatine! After that- after that I’m happy to, um, join you? And meet your... husband? And padawan? Sorry, we were kind-of in the middle of something...” 

“Wow. Ok. I’m not sure if-” Luke started to respond before being interrupted by the Mandalorian.

“Wait, Dooku! I know that name!” Din said suddenly. “The covert hated him! He was the evil Sif Emperor you defeated, right?”

“...Sith Emperor. Din, darling and light of my life, as always, your grasp of history and recent current events never fails to amaze me.” Luke sighed.

“You must stop him, before he becomes Emperor,” Palpatine shouted desperately. 

Luke sighed again, more heavily. “Fine. FINE! Kriff the timeline, I didn’t ask to be born anyway. Din- go help capture...Emperor Dooku. Grogu- Pod. I’ll go- free the Chancellor.” The floor beneath them gave a lurch. “Before this ship breaks apart. Go!” 

Luke and Din jumped off the balcony as a shiny metal pod with a transparisteel view screen closed around Grogu, hovering between them, well off easy reach of the ground.

Din landed between Obi-Wan and Anakin, helmet turning to face each of them in turn, “...I’ll follow your lead.” He finally said, arming his weapons.

Obi-Wan grinned fiercely, “Excellent, Anakin, stay with me.”

“I was just about to say the same thing.”

“Mando, you- Is that the DARKSABER- ARE Yoouu- ugh you know what, I will ask after the fight. I will ask after the fight. How did the Mand'alor- NEVERMIND. Let’s just- FORCE I have so many questions-” 

“No time, Master!”

And the battle began. 

[ceaseless-enemy]

TURNTABLES AU: THE KRIEGHAUS CORRESPONDENCE LETTERS

CONTENT WARNINGS: mentions of torture methods, evil RHM content, death, corpses, trauma, very vague descriptions of medical procedure

you have been warned

February 27th, 2014

To: Hubert Galeforce

From: Wilhelm Krieghaus

I’m surprised you decided to contact me. I was under the impression the Toppats were an “every man for himself” sort of group.

That said, I think you were right to be concerned this time around. The impression General Copperbottom gives off is of someone that believes Toppats are tantamount to war criminals.

I’ll talk with The Lieutenant soon and try to assure things remain as civil as possible in this situation, although I can’t exactly guarantee he’ll be receptive. He seems to be very irritable since Canterbury’s arrival.

April 2nd, 2014

To: Hubert Galeforce

From: Wilhelm Krieghaus

He wasn’t very receptive. In fact, he got angry at me for even suggesting that we try for more peaceful resolution. I didn’t expect him to agree with something fully nonviolent of course, but it was like he couldn’t fathom a solution where it wasn’t required.

He went as far as to mention the idea of enhanced interrogation. I reminded him that people are debating about it right now; that a majority of people in the US find it barbaric, and him enacting it would cause unneeded controversy.

Usually The Lieutenant is a very practical and logical man, but I’m worried that what I told him won’t be enough to sway him.

May 17th, 2014

To: Hubert Galeforce

From: Wilhelm Krieghaus

He enacted the first set of interrogation techniques that I mentioned in my last letter. I didn’t exactly expect him to do it, but now that he’s crossed that line, I’ll have to shift my goal.

I can’t prevent him from breaking ethical codes, but I’ll try to dissuade him from going into more physical interrogation methods. I don’t have much else to say.

I can barely register it all.

January 23rd, 2015

To: Lieutenant R. H. M.

From: Wilhelm Krieghaus

I read what you’ve written down. Your recent activities, and your thoughts behind them.

What’s wrong with you?

I’m serious. I never expected all of this to come from you. Sure, you’ve never been the most expressive person, but you’ve always had a good core. You’ve always cared about people.

The way you talk about it is all I can think about. Like you’re doing menial housework. Like you’re cleaning a window. You hate it, but once you’ve done it, you sound so proud.

I can’t believe that you’d just do that. There has to be something I’m missing. We need to talk about this as soon as you have time off.

February 7th, 2015

To: Hubert Galeforce

From: Wilhelm Krieghaus

I talked with The Lieutenant again the other day. I’m a little out of sorts. I’m sorry if this isn’t as succinct or formal as usual. I failed at dissuading him from more unsavory ideas again. It’s like he’s determined to do this.

What does he even have to gain? What does he want from the Toppats? Do you know? Is there even anything specific, or does he only have venom for you because he’s General Copperbottoms sycophant?

I’m sorry. You don’t even know what I’m so upset about. Next week, he’s incorporating more barbaric enhanced interrogation techniques. I can’t guarantee Canterbury’s safety (mental or physical) anymore. If there’s anything I can think of that I can do aside from giving you updates, I’ll let you know.

February 15th, 2015

To: Lieutenant R. H. M.

From: Wilhelm Krieghaus

You haven’t come by my office lately. I assume it’s over our disagreements? Look. I don’t want our friendship to end over political differences.

I may not agree with you, but why is that a problem? Please consider: If you understand my perspective, and I understand yours, it can be beneficial to the both of us. As people, as friends, and as military workers. Just food for thought.

I don’t think having only the general as company is good for you.

April 3, 2021

February 29th, 2015

To: Hubert Galeforce

From: Wilhelm Krieghaus

The more time passes, the more this escalates. From what I’ve heard, Canterbury’s jaw is broken. There isn’t much I can do for him at the moment. I have no way to access him.

This entire situation; The Lieutenant, The General, having to lie to the higher-ups, having to see my colleagues lie for their own sakes: It’s FUBAR.

This surpasses the legality of what you do. This surpasses legal jargon in general. This sort of thing is ethics.

The most I can do is document, although I don’t know how helpful that is right now. I’ll keep you posted if anything new comes up.

To: Lieutenant R. H. M.

From: Wilhelm Krieghaus

I’ve been thinking about the Canterbury situation, lately. More specifically, about his broken jaw. I don’t think he’ll be able to confess anything in that state.

I know it’s pointless to ask you to stop the enhanced interrogations, but may I suggest stopping the waterboarding? It’s impractical.

I just want you to think about it.

May 27th, 2015

To: Hubert Galeforce

From: Wilhelm Krieghaus

This will be brief. Not much new has happened, just more torture. It brings me no pleasure to write that so flippantly.

Today, though, was a lot. Several hours ago, everyone in the camp heard screaming. Not just yelling, or your standard screams of distress we’d almost grown used to; this was different. It was inhuman shrieking.

I asked The Lieutenant what happened, but he just shrugged and said “nothing”. He’s never lied about what he’s done before. I believe him.

… What was that, then?

June 28th, 2015

To: Hubert Galeforce

From: Wilhelm Krieghaus

Canterbury’s brother was threatened, according to the Lieutenant’s logs. I would recommend checking on him, or keeping an eye on him in general.

The Lieutenant hasn’t crossed that line yet, but I don’t know how long that will last.

[12:23 AM]

July 20th, 2015

To: Hubert Galeforce

From: Wilhelm Krieghaus

The Lieutenant has become unrecognizable to me at this point. I never thought he’d go this far. At this point, he’s stopped caring whether or not Canterbury ends up dead.

At first I thought he was never this type of person. A big part of me desperately wanted to believe that General Copperbottom took something small in him and twisted it into something horrible.

The fact of the matter is, The Lieutenant was like this all along. He just never got the opportunity to show it until now.

September 7th, 2015

To: Hubert Galeforce

From: Wilhelm Krieghaus

The Lieutenant came into my office today. He looked so tired. There wasn’t anything else there. He announced: “I killed him.” And sat in front of me in silence for an hour, before leaving.

After an entire year of torture, horror, lying and corruption:

This can’t be how it ends.

The Final Canterbury Log

-Wilhelm Krieghaus

September 9th, 2015

This is the last I’ll write or speak of the matter. After this, I’m done, I’ll wash my hands of this affair, and strive to get court-martialed. Two nights ago, Thomas Chestershire brought H.J. Canterbury’s corpse to me.

I asked him what for, and he told me “The body’s our best chance of getting those two in trouble”. He seems more tired of them than I am. I never really noticed how he felt before I guess. It never mattered.

On top of the conditions Canterbury had been subjected to for a year, rigor mortis had already set in quite a bit. There wasn’t much chance of being salvaged, but dammit I was tired of the constant stress.

So I did what I could.

There was so little left of him at the end of the day, but there was enough. All you really need is a brain; who you are, how you feel, and all your memories. I could have had nothing but a brain.

I had his brain functioning pretty early on, but most of his organs, all his limbs, and his mess of a bottom jaw had to be replaced with advanced augmentations.

It cost me two nights of sleep and basic self-care, but that’s a given.

I have him strapped to the bed currently, for his (and my) safety. His condition is stable but I don’t know when he’s going to wake up.

When I’ve sufficiently explained the situation, I’ll need to find a way to get him to the Toppats undetected and unsuspected (pardon the rhyme.) That is, assuming he will even be able to function that well.

It’s also a possibility that he’ll wake up, with very heavy physical and mental impairments.

I’ll need to make a plan for that.

[all-things-are-nothing-to-me]

Lone wolves are not alone…

Today we live in the time of fear, the kingdom of degeneration. All around us spreads a sick world which refuses however to die. The world of economy falls but does not collapse. All preachers of every ideology, scientists, economists, journalists, politicians, sociologists, syndicalists, leftists, humanitarians, agree to a common truth, called “economic crisis”.

Thus the ghost of the economic crisis hovers above the formerly privileged territory of the western civilization, after leaving behind it hecatombs of dead people and ruins of war in the “undeveloped countries” of the rest of the world.

But we refuse the truth they offer us. We refuse to be lost in mathematical equations, economical terms and loan contracts. We refuse to accept that life is shoved into statistics. Numbers cannot explain why our existence gets poorer. We speak of a different poverty and not only the poverty of the supermarkets. We speak of the poverty in words, emotions, thoughts, wanderings, tensions. We speak of the unity which resides inside the modern people-pets of the cages of the metropolis who by themselves imprisoned themselves.

Today there is a crisis which makes our life poorer, but this is not the economic crisis, it is the crisis of values. Society traded the values of freedom, respect, solidarity, dignity, with a position in consumerist paradise. Now is the time for it to fall in its hell, since today it experiences the collapsing of the system which it faithfully prayed to all these years.

The ambassadors of the modern way of life speak of the savior of economy through corrective changes and development programs, while the ideologists of the left beg for the cleansing of institutions. Unfortunately, in Greece the tension of bureaucratic social anarchy also joins the dance of the absurd and fantasies the revival of dead ideologies speaking of self-management of the production means and workers collectives.

Thus the socialist anarchists, while refusing the system, instead of destroying class identities and economy, speak their language. They speak of the overthrowing of the existent, without however uprooting from inside them the economic-centric logic. For us, as anarcho-individualists and nihilists, economy is not the key for liberation. Economy is a part of the problem and the problem itself. The only way to strike the heart of the problem is to destroy the economy and its distinctions and speak of human relations. The world will not become prettier or more free if we collectivize work but only if we blow up the relation of work and destroy its mentality, its ethics and culture. The same will happen with friendship, love, pleasure, the meaning of life itself.

On the road for continuous anarchist insurrection we do not keep anything which holds us down on the past. We tear down the myths of the revolutionary subject, of the proletariat, of the eternal wait for the right objective conditions, the social likeness towards the population, this slow moving mass which with its inactivity stops us from breathing….

Therefore, looking back in time, we recognize as our own prints, the traces left behind by some lone wolves, who walked then against their time. It is all those conspiratorial anarchists illegalists who made the anarchist insurrection their only home land. It is those who chose to stay away from the glory of the dead ideologies and bureaucracy of the social anarchism which awaits the masses in order to begin its insurrection. Lone and unique they armed their desires, out aside the pathetic rot of the mob and went on to the storming of heaven.

Their star fills our eyes, the fire floods our thoughts, the vendetta of revenge beats in our hearts and, our hands embrace the guns and dynamite which they inherited to us. We live for an endless explosion of actions, thoughts, feelings, desires, which reaches the edge of the world.

There is no nostalgia, there is only today, while tomorrow is already late. Today is our turn, our life, our time.

Anarcho-individualism and nihilism, the gates of the new anarchy, invite us. In the era of generalized crisis, the sun of the new anarchy continues to rise. Now that the global economy is ill, we do not look for the “just” social cure, but on the contrary we seek the poison for its final death.

As we wrote above, life, before being strangled biologically from the economic crisis, had already been cut in its desperation, the illusions and the loneliness of modern society.

It is important therefore, to think, to feel and attack against anything which glorifies the empire of authority, against anything which preserves the religion of economy, anything which carries the death of silence and immobility. And if sometimes we seem like lone crazy people, the sure thing is that we are not alone. We live in a home full of voices, dreams, desires, laughter, melancholies, actions… Our home has no hosts and guests; it belongs to all of us. In our home we do not speak just one language but many and we always communicate with our eyes.

The basement of our home is full of weapons, explosives, plans, communiques, whatever the enemy snatches from us, our hands and desires will never remain unarmed. At the table of our home there are always spaces and glasses of wine for new friends and comrades who we never met before. There are as well some empty places for the brothers and sisters who are absent, for our dead, for the wanted, for the imprisoned, but their glasses are always full because they are always next us too. Our home has no doors, no rooms, not even walls. Our home has no roof because it would hide the sky and stars. Our home has no windows because it would stop the wind. Our home has no street or number. Our home has no name and lives in our hearts.

Our home is FAI-IRF and we will never abandon it, neither in the easy moments nor the tough times.

FAI-IRF is the lost Atlantis of the practical theory. It is the meeting point of thought and action, imagination and the present, violence with poetry, desire with decision, the ‘I’ with the us…

This moment it is important that there are many dozens of anarchist individualities and cells participating in the network FAI-IRF. FAI-IRF is an illegal anarchist union of egoists which despises the gather-ism of Marxist organizations and the bureaucracy of the anarchist reformists.

There is no protocol or rules. Our only compass is our values: direct action, anarchist critique towards the social silence, international solidarity, constant insurrection… At the same time all of us anarchists of praxis preserve unquenchable the desire to continuously recreate the formation of FAI-IRF with as an epicenter the human desires. We do not even feel the need to propose to society some ready-made recipe for happiness. Our life does not need ready-made solutions. Besides, experimentation even a mistake is the best way for the discovery of freedom. From the still waters of traditional ideologies you can expect only poison.

The insurrectionist-nihilist anarchist thought remains alive, not as a flawless and final ideology, but on the contrary when it seeks the dialectic confrontation either in order to try itself by overpassing the disagreements it has to confront, or when it discovers its gaps and re creates itself with beginning point evolution. Thus, also FAI-IRF is not the end of the road of final utopia but one of the roads for the constant course towards anarchy.

This is why when someone reads the dozens of responsibility claims of the cells of FAI-IRF internationally they will locate some differences, even some disagreements. This is the beauty and uniqueness of the new anarchy. Besides the basic values shared by us the conspirators of the Black International, there are the specificities of each one of us which promote the constant search of our existence.

Because we will always discover independent areas of ourselves, unknown passions, unlimited desires which arm the bet of Existence, replacing the misery and correctness of economic equations which are praised by the overgrown revolutionary ideologies.

Today FAI-IRF is not simply an idea, just as the Conspiracy of Cells of Fire is not limited to the land of the Greek state. Our desire is to not drain ourselves at making our existence known. Our spreading to dozens of countries transfers us to an asymmetric threat for the interior of the states. The CCF of Mexico transforms the words into fire, in Russia and Belarus the Conspiracy transforms the frozen rooftops into lava, and in Italy the Olga cell of FAI writes its own poetry with bullets. At the same time dozens of conspirators in Chile, Ecuador, Bolivia, Peru, Brazil, Spain, England, Poland, Greece, Indonesia, Australia conspire with chaos and transfer the fire of anarchy into the foundations of the existent.

This is why we constantly create new invisible crossroads of meeting and communication in order to talk about the death of the existence and the storm of new anarchy. We want our fire to be written in all languages. Tireless comrades constantly translate prisoners texts, books, responsibility claims, while at the same time solidarity is internationalized and the FAI-IRF network becomes the Lernaen Hydra of the new anarchy. For every arrest of a cell, two new ones are ready to attack.

Thus we enter the land of continuous anarchist insurrection. In our uncontrollable course for the destruction of authority, we meet across us the enemy and its conservative powers, but besides them there is still a lot of excuses, inhibitions and dilemmas which attempt to make our feet heavy, bothering our walk. Often these camouflaged cowardices disguised as theoretical analysis live in the bureaucracy of the circles of social anarchism which hopes for the mass awakening of society. Thus the words “anarchy” “direct action” “anarchist insurrection” get confused, they lose their sharp content and remain handicapped going around like harmless blabbering in student amphitheaters… This is why we see in Bolivia that there is an “anarchist organization” which states its conformity to the state authorities and is indifferent to the imprisoned Bolivian comrades accused of being part of FAI, in Italy parasitic anarcho-hippies who with a text of theirs condemned and slandered the action of the Olga cell of FAI, in Germany a part of the anarchists forget and slander the imprisoned comrades (e.g. Aachen4 case) while in Greece many from the anti-authoritarian movement discuss about whether or not they will vote for Syriza (left party) in the elections and generally there being a turn towards collectivization through workers and “white” democratic assemblies.

We on our side want to avoid such misunderstandings and make this confusion untouchable. Therefore it is necessary that we make a clear separating line between the insurrectionist-nihilistic circles and the refuges of reformism. This is why we would like every text and act of ours to be immediately recognized, adopting our own stigma. The stigma of continuous anarchist attack.

But it is not enough to speak about the attack, on the contrary we desire to be a part of the attack. This is why through this text we want to throw a proposition into the fire of the battle. a proposition which is being discussed for some time now in the circles of the new anarchy in Greece. We mean the transmission of technical knowledge and experiences for the construction of explosive and incendiary devices and for the spreading of other forms of sabotage. Through small printed practical manuals or through digital form on the internet we can share information, patents, technical points, ideas, applications, diagrams and enrich our arsenal. When knowledge and experience are shared, they become dangerous. First of all it brings down the separation between theory and practice and the myth of the “specialists” of violence is abolished. At the same time the fetishisms of Marxist ideological rigidities about the avant-guard of “armed struggle” are withdrawn and the illusions of the hierarchy of the means cease. Between the bullet in the head of a cop and the rock in window front there is an invisible line connecting them.

We want to make this line visible. Everything is for everyone, there are not specialists of violence, there are individualities and choices…

We do not share our choices only by speaking and writing texts against the state and its society but also when we offer each other possible practical ways.

To make our theory practice. This is why we propose to the comrades of the FAI-IRF that we proceed to the publication of manuals which describe i.e. the way to construct an explosive mechanism, the wiring of a time bomb, the assembling of a parcel bomb, the use of a home-made system of time-delaying in incendiary attacks, the strengthening of the destructive power of a molotov, the synthesis and mixtures of ingredients for the creation of explosive materials… also our “work” in the chaotic arts of sabotage can open its thematology from the destruction of cameras, the blocking of ATMs and the construction of home-made smoke bombs up to burgling and stealing cars and motorbikes and the conservation and use of weapons.

All this knowledge which is conquered everyday and cannot and shouldn’t be a privilege of an initiated elite of veterans of praxis. On the contrary we want to acquire a common arsenal with all anarchists of praxis where we will share ideas and practices in order to strengthen the constant anarchist insurrection against the Existing. Thus, comrades which carry inside them the wolf of praxis, but have not yet acquired technical knowledge in order to intensify their attacks against the social structures of the system, now with this proposition get access to an endless stock of destructive and chaotic ingenuity which will strengthen their fire.

Of course these practical manuals will not be considered the “holy bible” of the anarchists of praxis since they will be constantly renewed and enriched, since the experimentation and searching never stops.

Also we stress that because of the public character of the spreading of the techniques and the forms of sabotage, it is sure that the eyes of the police will constantly be on our attempt.

This is why this letter is made with special attention. Not only so the enemy cannot track us, but also so we don’t give them information they don’t know, helping them without meaning to, “neutralize” our attacks. For example in the presentation of a time bomb, there will always be variations so the police are confused and it is not easy to deactivate it without the danger of blowing up their bomb disposal team.

This way we strengthen the union of anarcho-individualists - nihilists promoting the constant clash with the world of authority and the social mass. It’s the new way of the new anarchy to attack without relying on the vague sympathy for the proletariat and the economism of classes, but instead abolishing the classes themselves. Neither rich nor poor, neither bosses nor workers, but autonomous individuals with anarchist values and choices.

At the same time we abandon the victimized image of the “social fighter”, who is being attacked by the state. Several comrades of the Conspiracy of Cells of Fire and nuclei of FAI are now in prison, from where we write this text. Not for a moment however do we beg for our “rights” from the state, nor do we invoke its laws. When we chose to arm ourselves and to assassinate social peace, we knew the consequence of the choice we made. The fact that we are in the prisons of the enemy does not make us harmless. We are creating and organizing 10, 100, 1000 cells of the Informal Anarchist Federation and the Conspiracy of Cells of Fire. Neither will we become “anarchist writers” who will publish our theories from inside prison. Our words are our thoughts which were anxious to become actions. Every day, every night we breathe for them. We still have some scores to set with the existent and we keep the knife between our teeth. Our strategy is to make chaos our friend. That is where all forces of the negative are liberated. Conventions, hypocrisies, ethics, cowardices are abolished there.

Brothers and Sisters let’s dare everything. Political executions, blowing up government buildings, bank robberies, arsons of symbols of authority, molotov on the cops, knifes in fascists, communiques, texts, discussions and whatever promotes the spreading of the new anarchy and the progression of the Black International of the Anarchists of Praxis.

DIRECT CONSTANT ANARCHIST INSURRECTION

P.S. The text “Lone wolves are not alone… FAI/ IRF/CCF” is dedicated to our brothers and sisters all around the world, to the dead, the prisoners and those wanted…

In this difficult time we send our most warm greetings to the wanted comrades in Greece: G. Mihailidis and D. Politis, who are accused for participation in the CCF, the wanted comrade in Mexico, FR, and the imprisoned comrade Mario Lopez who was injured by an incendiary device he was transferring.

At the same time our thought and heart is next to the comrades in Italy who are experiencing repeated oppressive operations.

Strength comrades.

[aspire-to-the-light]

Two kinds of morality

It seems like, leaving aside the high-level discoursey academic things like utilitarianism vs Kant vs virtue ethics, there's two kinds of morality which are different in an important-in-the-real-world way.

I instinctively want to call one collectivist/social/universalist and the other individualist, but those have so much baggage, and every time I talk about this people get confused and make weird comparisons to socialism vs capitalism. So I’m going to call them collaborativist and soloist, though equally good names might be obligatorist and supererogatorist. (And I welcome suggestions for better names because apparently “collaborativism” is already a confusing thing in social epistemology.)

The collaborativist view:

It’s selfish and bad to refuse to help others when they need it.

Everyone is worth the same, and everyone’s happiness is equally important. The goodness of actions should be evaluated based on whether they were the best for everyone, or whether they helped as much as possible.

Everyone has needs for social things like friendship and community, so everyone should help everyone else.

Everyone has different skills, so by default, people should work together and combine their best skills. Obviously there will be times when someone’s alone and can’t contact their allies, so they have to be self-reliant, but that’s a rare and unfortunate situation.

If someone is bad at a skill and someone else is good at it, the person who is good at it should help the person who is bad at it.

Resources should go to whoever needs them most.

If I have a resource and someone else needs it more, I should give it to them. (It’s OK for them to demand it from me, and call me selfish if I don’t give it to them, provided they genuinely need it more than I do.)

It’s immoral for people to have a whole bunch of resources, and spend them on private jets rather than on helping others.

If there’s an optimal way to handle things that keeps everyone as happy as we can handle with our limited resources, we should do things the optimal way. Eg. if there’s a disagreement in our house on who gets to use the bathroom first in the morning, priority should go to people with jobs that are more demanding about getting in on time in the morning, and/or people who take the longest should go last.

If someone figures out a plan for making everybody better off, then everyone is obliged to work together on that plan, even the people who wouldn’t be as well-off under the plan.

The soloist view:

It’s selfish and bad to be a burden on others. It’s rude to ask for help unless you really need it.

It doesn’t matter if an action wasn’t the best action for everyone, or wasn’t maximally helpful; you can’t actually condemn someone for it unless they broke a law or social rule. You can’t oblige anyone to sacrifice themselves to help others.

Everyone knows best what they personally want, so everyone should look after themselves.

Everyone is responsible for themselves, so by default, everyone should solve their own problems on their own. Obviously there will be times that someone really can’t do something and has to ask for help, but that’s a rare and unfortunate situation.

If someone is good at a skill, that’s their own skill. If anyone else wants their help, they should have to offer them something they want in return.

If a resource is someone’s private property, then it’s rude to tell the owner what they can or can’t do with it. It’s theirs; if they want to burn it, they can do that, and nobody else gets a say in it.

It doesn’t matter what’s moral or immoral according to some busybody; if I don’t want to help others then I shouldn’t have to.

What matters is me and what I want. Everyone else is instrumentally valuable. People I care about are more valuable than people I don’t, and I choose who I care about based on who’s close to me.

Everyone should handle their own things, however they see fit. It doesn’t matter what’s “optimal”, it just matters who has the rights to do what. Eg. if you own a house, and the people who live with you start talking about how it’d be better for everyone if you used the bathroom last because you work from home and you’re really slow, you’re fully entitled to just ignore them. It’s your house, and if you want to hog the bathroom until noon every day, you can.

If someone figures out a plan for making everyone better off, then it might be good and nice to participate, but you don’t have to. Anyone who tries to force you is an asshole.

Clarifications

Again, please don’t get confused and try to relate this to socialism/authoritarianism vs capitalism/libertarianism. It’s perfectly possible to be a collaborativist who supports market libertarianism because they think it’s the best way to gather price information and ensure a prosperous society that can feed everyone, or to be a soloist who wants an authoritarian central government to better enforce everyone’s rights and ensure the ‘worthy’ are rewarded. You can be a collaborativist but think that trying to force people to do things usually backfires, or a soloist who thinks that in practice it’s good to comply with people’s requests because then you’ll build up social capital to get more of what you want from them later. And, of course, people are complicated; plenty of people are soloist in The Online Discourse but collaborativist about chores in their household, or loudly signal collaborativism but fiercely resist if you ask them for help with anything.

It might actually be more complicated than I’m modelling it; I’m thinking of “people should work together and help each other” as inherently connected to “people are obliged to be moral”, and of “people should look out for themselves” as inherently connected to “people can do whatever the hell they want”, but it might be worth separating into two separate distinctions of obligatorist/supererogatorist and collaborativist/soloist, depending on whether any obligatorist-soloists or supererogatorist-collaborativists exist.

I’m extremely collaborativist, so if there’s merit to the soloist view, I’m probably not doing it justice or treating it charitably. If you’re a soloist, feel free to reblog with any pro-soloism additions; I’m curious what people would say, because I’ve never heard a solid defence of soloism, only libertarian arguments that might transfer well to soloism.

It’s a spectrum; some people are on the fence, some people lean mildly one way or the other, some people are very strongly soloist or very strongly collaborativist. If you lean mildly one way or the other, you probably never notice the distinction or find it important. However, strong collaborativists clash really badly with strong soloists, and can tend to be incompatible in a seriously bad way.

There’s a whole variety of ways they can clash:

Different ideas of what’s rude

Collaborativist asks a soloist for help with something, because they feel like that’s just the natural thing to do; they’d be happy for others to ask them for help if the situations were reversed. The soloist becomes annoyed, thinking the collaborativist is being selfish and demanding and imposing a burden on them.

Soloists use resources in ways that make collaborativists really angry. Soloists buy private jets, collaborativists look at this and think it’s incredibly selfish and wasteful and immoral. Soloists think it’s rude to shout at people for buying private jets with their own money. (Soloists might also think it’s wasteful, but wouldn’t condemn other soloists for it. Collaborativists think these people ought to be punished, or at least ostracized.)

Collaborativists request what they feel are reasonable adjustments that would make something better for them. Soloists think that the collaborativists are being rude by making demands about a thing/space/project/agreement that isn’t even theirs, while collaborativists think the soloists are being rude by refusing to make reasonable adjustments.

Unequal relationships

Relationships between collaborativists and soloists can end up very unequal, because the collaborativist thinks that they’re morally obliged to help their friend/partner as much as they reasonably can, and the soloist doesn’t think they’re obliged to help at all unless they want to. Sometimes there’s an element of typical mind; the collaborativist helps and assumes they’ll be helped in return, whereas the soloist just assumes their collaborativist friend is unusually altruistic and has lots of time on their hands. (The people in the relationship don’t always feel like it’s unequal - a collaborativist might think they’re morally obliged to help others even if the others won’t pay it back - but it’s unequal from the outside view.)

On the other hand, sometimes typical mind can make relationships unequal the other way around - the collaborativist feels comfortable asking for help often, whereas the soloist doesn’t ask for help unless it’s an emergency. Both of them typical-mind and assume the other person thinks like them, so the collaborativist thinks that their soloist partner is just super competent and doesn’t want help very often, while the soloist assumes their collaborativist partner must just have lots of serious emergencies for some reason. So the soloist provides their collaborativist partner with support, then gets angry when they realise the collaborativist’s requests for support were unjustified (to them) by the non-seriousness of the situation.

(This isn’t to say collaborativists can’t have unequal relationships with other collaborativists, or soloists can’t have unequal relationships with other soloists.)

Fear

Collaborativists are sometimes scared of soloists. They’re scared that they’ll need something, and the soloist will respond, “Well, you can’t have it, fuck you, it’s mine.” Or they’re afraid that a soloist will harm them and be the only person able to undo the harm, and will shrug and say “you aren’t my responsibility”. (Serious soloists don’t understand this fear; if someone doesn’t want to give you something, they’re not obliged to!)

Soloists are sometimes scared of collaborativists. They’re scared that collaborativists will try to pressure them to do things they don’t want to do, or that collaborativists will try and make them conform to a group and not let them have their own idiosyncratic ideas about morality. (Serious collaborativists don’t understand this fear; if you’re tempted to do bad selfish things, then someone should pressure you to avoid giving in to that temptation!)

Neither of the fears are unjustified.

Soloists, at their worst, think they’re justified in doing anything they like. Good soloists may not believe in positive rights (obligations to help others), but they very much do believe in negative rights (obligations to avoid hurting others, imposing on others, or trespassing on others’ property). Soloists who excuse themselves from respecting negative rights - “if they didn’t want to be hurt they should have taken preventative measures” or “well, I didn’t agree to that law” or “morality is relative, and I think killing people is fine” - are terrifying. So are soloists who think the rules don’t apply to you - the classic is a parent who thinks everyone has the right to do as they wish with their own property, who thinks their children are their property. Most soloists aren’t like that, but it’s understandable for collaborativists to be afraid of that when they notice someone’s a soloist.

Collaborativists, at their worst, can be people who simply Decide What’s Best For Everyone and attack anyone who won’t comply. Good collaborativists believe in working together to figure out what’s best for everyone, but shitty ones sometimes dismiss people’s genuine reasons for why a policy badly hurts them or why they can’t do something as “just that person being selfish”. Good collaborativists also impose the same standards on themselves as everyone else - others might be obligated to help them when they’re in trouble, but they’re equally obligated to help others as much as they can. Collaborativists who think everyone else is obliged to help them, but for whatever reason have stopped believing that they should help others, are the shitty burdens on everyone around them that soloists fear. Most collaborativists aren’t like that, but it’s understandable for soloists to be afraid of that when they notice someone’s a collaborativist.

Arguing

Collaborativists and soloists don’t live together very well. Collaborativists say “Look, it’s just optimal for everyone if we all pitch in to this renovation project!” and the soloists are all, “fuck you, no, I choose what I do with my time and money!” and the collaborativists think the soloists are freeloads and there is fighting.

Collaborativists and soloists spend ages arguing past each other. The collaborativists argue “this change would make everyone better off”, and the soloists don’t think that matters. The soloists argue “this is mine” and the collaborativists are deeply confused as to why that’s a valid reason to be immoral. The collaborativists keep presenting arguments as to why the change would be good, and the soloist keeps presenting evidence that the thing is their property / under their control / within their rights, and neither side is ever going to persuade the other this way.

Collaborativist says “we should do X with resource Y because that meets everyone’s needs best”. When someone responds “nah, resource Y’s mine and I don’t feel like it”, collaborativists go “??? does not parse ??? what does this word ‘mine’ mean???? where is it written in the utility function??????”

Meanwhile, the soloist feels like “why are you attempting to apply morality-arguments to my decisions?? who gave you the right??? what are you trying to offer me???”

Different expectations about sharing spaces and resources

Collaborativists don’t mind if someone else steals some of their milk or borrows their torch without asking, provided that person doesn’t kick up a fuss when they do the same thing back. Soloists often do mind very much if someone steals some of their milk. Due to different preferences, different assumptions are made about which resources are communal and which aren’t - the collaborativist assumes you wouldn’t have left it out in the common space if you weren’t OK with others helping themselves, the soloist assumes that helping yourself to other people’s things is okay only with explicit permission.

For a collaborativist, crashing on someone’s couch is just the done thing, provided you’re not in their way and not causing any trouble. They’re grateful to the person who let them crash, but they don’t think it’s a big deal; friends help each other out, that’s what friends do. For a soloist, offering someone your couch is a big deal. Collaborativists crashing on soloists’ couches can overstay their welcome without realising it.

Collaborativists invest time and energy into a project, assuming it’s a collective thing and that the final product will be used to benefit everyone as much as possible. They feel betrayed when the soloists reveal that actually they’re just planning to use this project for their own benefit.

Why it matters

I am very collaborativist. I am collaborativist from my scalp to my toes. I am collaborativist in a passionate fierce evangelical kind of way. I instinctively treat everyone else like they’re a collaborativist, and try to help other people whenever I can on the assumption that they’d do the same for me. I believe in a social contract.

(The entire concept of “supererogatory” just baffles me. I fundamentally don’t get it, and have to remind myself to Breathe Calmly when people act as though it’s a thing. Of course people are obligated to be as moral as possible! If you could morally justify doing something other than the most moral thing, it wouldn’t be the most moral thing!)

Having this model has helped me humanise soloists a lot. It’s not that the soloists are inherently evil selfish people who want to take from the group but never give anything back, they just want to neither take nor give because they don’t believe in the social contract. It just looks to me like they take and don’t give, because from their POV they’re being given no-strings-attached gifts, whereas from mine they’re being included in The Group.

To be clear, I am not trying to start Discourse. I do not think it is in the slightest worthwhile for soloists and collaborativists to have a fight over whose moral system is better. I suspect the axioms that make you collaborativist or soloist are baked into your brain at a sufficiently low level that we aren’t going to change them.

I have found it really useful to be consciously aware both that I’m a collaborativist, and that not everyone else is. I can’t assume that everyone else agrees that “x is morally the best course of action” means “we are all obliged to do x”. I can also be more careful about watching out for soloists; it would be a bad idea for me to start a group house with a bunch of soloists. I’m also more conscious of telling soloists that I want them to do x for me before I do y for them - ie making it a deal, which is something that works within a soloist framework - rather than just doing y for them because that’s what Decent People Do, and then getting annoyed because they haven’t done x for me despite that being what Decent People Do.

[cursewoodrecap]

Session 3: Darkness in Your Past

Hello everyone I’m still like. WAY sick. And I will be performing our next session entirely through texting and enthusiastic mime. But I can probably type, even if I’m hacking and wheezing?

In this session: oh no, backstory!

The party finishes their long rest at the bandit camp, universally antsy to get going and prickly with each other after certain ethical disagreements.

As the bandits warned us, the road turns out to be full of traps, and 3/4 of us roll terrible, awful perception checks. Clem, comically, immediately falls into a hole. It’s less comic when we realize there’s sharp spikes at the bottom of that there pit trap, but Valeria Channels Divinity and summons the Chains of Rack, catching Clem before she can tumble into the stabbity stabs. WHOOPSIE.

Traveling onward, we find a huge tree has crashed down across the path. We are all experienced players and thus suspicious bastards, and Shoshana rolls a good enough Nature check to suddenly have a childhood memory. There was once a local woodsman that she and her best friend used to hang around, a lumberjacky fellow and hunter named Mordecai. A good-natured fellow, he would let the local children tag along and show them lots of tips and tricks about the woods. Using the remnants of that remembered knowledge, Shoshana picks up on a few wood shavings and out-of-place bits. This thing has been tampered with.

“Everybody stand back,” she says, “I’m gonna poke it.”

“Wait, I have a crossb-” Gral begins, but Shoshana slaps it with a Mage Hand, which is only a 30 foot range. Two crossbow bolts shoot out of where the log has been hollowed out and the bark has been thinned to a sheet, and one sticks right into somebody’s boob. Good job, folks.

Going forward seems to be all well and good until, suddenly, someone notices we can’t hear Valeria, who’s guarding the back. We turn around and surpriiiise, a wild beast-man is hanging out of a tree and has her by a garrotte! There is a brief debate about whether attempting to free her by swinging an enormous greatsword is really the best?? idea??????? but Valeria puts an end to the discussion by stabbing the guy herself.

We complain at the DM about all the traps, and then get distracted, because OOH, A RAVINE.

Shoshana goes quiet at the familiar sight, but there’s something worrying here. There’s a beast-man of the Hunt and his wolf on watch, but there are dead people and wolves scattered over the blood-stained ground. A clutch Silence spell from Gral allows us to overcome the sentries with no alarm raised; Clem bisects the wolf with Extreme (and mildly panicked) Prejudice. 

Inspecting the scattered corpses, they seem to have been pierced by something long and thin - like arrow wounds, except there are no arrows to be seen.

We cautiously move forward, Gral sneakily scouting ahead and messaging back to the clanky folks what’s up. Shoshana tries to sneak, but is too distracted looking at the Hunt-people corpses for - someone recognizable, maybe? - and trips over a dead wolf. CLANG CRASH WHAM, roll for initiative, folks!

We slash our way through a couple of toughs and their wolves, Lookin’ Cool and Kickin’ Butt, but...this is like, two guys. What happened to the terrifying force that had the bandit crew cowering in fear? Why are most of them gone, or dead on the ground with the same arrowless arrow wounds?

Maybe the answer is through that door.

What Shoshana remembers as a bit of a hollow in the wall of the ravine - enough shelter to get a quick snatch of rest, maybe - has been covered over with a crude ceiling and a curtained hide door. No sounds are coming from inside, so we cautiously make our way in. 

It’s not much. Some rough skins and blankets to sleep on, a bag hanging on the wall, and a metal chest that we determine is booby-trapped. And loose scraps of paper, scattered across the floor. Shoshana bends down to pick one up, and reads it.

The gasp is audible. She stares at it, struck, as her player reads the text sent to her by the DM. The others begin to investigate the room as she stands there, absolutely floored - and then snatches for the next piece of paper, like lightning. And then the next, and the next, on her knees scrabbling for them, reading each one with mounting frenzy. She’s muttering to herself - “Why would she-? No, how-? The whole time?! And she NEVER??? How could she-”

Valeria cautiously picks up one of the cast-aside notes, reads it, and then caaarefully places it back on the floor, because Hoo Boy This Is Some Personal Stuff, Let’s Give Her Some Space. They seem to be unsent, half-finished letters, addressed to Shoshana. 

While spooky lady has a breakdown, Clem ably does a bit of medicine for Gral and Valeria to get everyone in fighting shape for whatever comes next. 

Shoshana collects all the letters, and somberly takes the pressed flowers Valeria found on the rudimentary table. Elsewhere in the room we find a key to the big chest, but still stand to the side when we release it - good, because an unsteady Mage Hand isn’t enough to hold the trap wire properly taut. Clem insisted we open the chest last thing before we leave, for fear that the roof would cave in, but a big scythe just swings out of the wall and slices the air where we all Decided Not To Be Standing. We find a bit of money, a Ring of Jumping, Ser Balderich’s sword, and a magic horn that is only heard by the person you choose to hear it.

The horn is apportioned to Shoshana, being the squishiest and the most likely to get targeted by these creeps. Shoshana, emotionally a bit frazzled, accepts it bemusedly. “Why?” she inquires dully. “I mean, it’s not like you’re exactly invested in my survival, past the next hour or two.”

Gral immediately protests. “I gave my word I would protect you, as part of my promise to bring you to Duke Shieldeater’s service. I would not betray that.” 

Valeria nods enthusiastically. Shoshana blinks and then gives the universal “get a load of this guy” gesture to Clem. 

Gral continues. “If truth must be known, I...am not entirely here on the Duke’s orders. I serve him, but it was my own decision to come find you. I strongly believe we Orcs need better relations with the local civilians. And I have my own aims, as well.” Cryptic behind his mask, he does not elaborate and continues back out into the ravine. 

Up ahead is the part that Shoshana knows is waiting for her. A thick blanket of branches and hanging foliage cast a section of the ravine into deep darkness - a canopy impenetrable to light but not, as she remembers, to the falling, flailing body of a young woman.

It’s distantly terrifying that seeing it again feels so much like coming home. A voice curls out of the ravine, welcoming her back at last. It’s impossible for her to tell whether the others can hear it.

“Ser Balderich is in there. The bandits said they were keeping him in the dark place, and...that’s where...”

Valeria firmly places her hand on Shoshana’s shoulder, reaching out in empathy to steady a comrade in a time of clear emotional distress. Shoshana feels a gauntleted hand land on her shoulder, the executioner’s cue to go face her death with dignity. They go forth, into the darkness.

...

So, it’s DARK in there. Valeria lights up the Rune Beetle. It’s still dark, supernaturally so, heavy and sick-tasting in the air. Even those in the party with Darkvision are limited, and they move ahead slowly and carefully. Luckily, Ser Balderich hears them coming, and starts shouting at the FIENDS! who are BACK FOR MORE, ARE YOU? and the party is able to find the pit he has been thrown into, heavy wooden bars embedded over the top.

Seeing the glint of Valeria’s silver scales in the dim light of the beetle, Ser Balderich’s shouting stops short. “...Marius?” he asks, disbelieving. “You survived? D-did any of the others-?”

Valeria recognizes the name of Kyr Marius, a mentor of hers at the monastery where she trained. Another silver dragonborn of the order, with years of combat experience. “I’m not Marius,” she lets him down, “But we’re here to get you out!” 

Ser Balderich, beaten and bruised and with at least one broken arm, is still with-it enough to notice that a young female voice does not sound like his presumably middle aged male friend. But he makes a quick recovery: “Oh! Uh, well, Kyr, it is an honor! But beware, the fiends are not far-”

Yeah, they’ve definitely noticed we’re here. A couple of worgs prowl out of the darkness as Valeria and Clem try to pry the bars off the top of the pit and haul Ser Balderich out. With Faerie Fire, Gral manages to illuminate one of the worgs and a mysterious cloaked figure, who simply gestures and we all take 3 Taint. What the what? It’s on.

We have a narrow battle - fleeing seems like the only option at one point, as several of us are boxed into a Hunger of Hadar spell by flanking wargs, but we persevere. In a moment of crisis, Shoshana pulls strength from the darkness and takes Taint in exchange for temporary HP. Finally, Clem and the wounded Ser Balderich break through to the cloaked figure.  As Clem’s greatsword pierces the flowing cloak, it collapses to the floor, empty. The figure’s taunting voice drifts out to us one last time, looking forward to the next time we meet. You can try to escape the Hunt, just like your little friend, but this is where you belong in the end...

Limping forward, we investigate the cavern behind where his empty cloak fell. Well, not the part that spirals off forever into the darkness. We’re not that stupid. But there’s a little room, off to the side, and we stop short seeing it. There’s a bloody altar, decorated with animal skulls, facing a hanging painting on an animal skin.

The crude tapestry depicts a figure wearing an antlered helm, tearing his way out of where he is bound by tree roots jutting from the ground. Three less-detailed figures behind him seem to be similarly bound. The edges of the canvas are decorated with grotesque, gory scenes of animals and hunters slaying their prey.

Oh, right. The DM notes he forgot to add the horror part of the scene. We look to the other side of the room and see a human corpse, nailed up on the wall. The word “PREY” has been carved deeply into his chest.

It’s Mordecai.

Shoshana is already so emotionally drained, barely able to register her dull rage at these grotesque atrocities here in HER darkness. She raises her hands, but Ser Balderich speaks up, saying Ser Quentin Morozov, his friend the Cursebreaker Knight, may have use of the tapestry. It might help him in his studies. Meanwhile, Valeria is gently pulling the body off the wall, looking for any sign of the man’s religion and finding not a symbol of the Obereon pantheon but a small pendant with two faces - Baba and Gramps, kindly spirits still respected by some of the more rural woodsfolk. Valeria’s big enough to carry the body, covering the carved words with her cloak and promising him a proper burial.

Shoshana lets them, dully watching. She can feel something magic within the altar, but the only thought she has left about today is the general concept of NO. She raises her hands and a wave of fire overtakes the altar. As it burns, the oppressive feeling of the darkness lessens. It doesn’t disappear, but something vital to this place has been destroyed.

A bit dazed, the party staggers out into the light, Valeria carrying the hunter’s body and Clem supporting a weakened but determined Ser Balderich. Wanting to avoid whatever hunting party was sent out after the escaping huntress, they make it back to the abandoned bandit camp before collapsing to regroup.

Valeria and Ser Balderich get to talking, Valeria asking how Ser Balderich knows her old mentor Kyr Marius. Did Ser Balderich ever speak to anyone who knows what happened at the Crusade?

Knows what happened? Pssh, Ser Balderich was THERE. Though it’s clearly a painful memory, Ser Balderich explains what happened to the members of Valeria’s order:

The Crusade was closing in, about a day’s hard travel from Valdsheart, the Duke’s capital city - the center of the Curse. The Order of the Rose has made it to the old summer palace - the roses were in bloom, the gardens were beautiful, still immaculately maintained by automated Unseen Servants that had continued working even as the city had been abandoned.

The commanders of the various knightly orders gathered together at the Rebel’s Temple. (A History check lets us know that this was the temple that Karena, the leader of the rebellion against Keva and the first Duchess of Valdia, had established to ask the blessing of the gods over the new nation.

If anyone ever had doubts the Curse was intelligent, they were ended by the way it waited until the knights were separated from their commanders. When the attack started, the gardens sprang to life. We were attacked by thorns and deadly spores. Ser Balderich took his horse and rode for the temple, while the knights held the line against the tide. The temple was holy ground - it should have been well-warded. Arriving there, he saw the windows stained with blood - the place was overrun. There were two groups of survivors still fighting: Archcleric Rudolf Klemsk and his knights of Rack fled one way, while the Peacock Knight (founder of the Knights Radiant) held the line alone. There were waves and waves of creatures, all sorts.

(Gral: Ser Balderich, please describe these creatures. DM: Absolutely not, it’s like midnight.)

Ser Balderich, unable to help, fled back to the palace to help the forces there. It was totally overrun. He hopes some got out, but was unable to get close enough to see. The aftermath? Well. Archcleric Klemsk got out, but Something happened there - afterward, he and his followers became the frightening Knights Penitent who violently hunt down all corruption and impiety. He assumes the Peacock Knight was overwhelmed, but he has been sighted since.

...I’m sorry.

Ser Balderich tells us: If anyone is going to solve this, it won’t be a marching army. It will be someone like my friend Quentin, and his Cursebreakers, or the madmen at Sturmhearst. We Beggar Knights will stand watch, and ensure as many people possible live to see the day the Curse ends, if that day ever comes.

We all mull that story, and then begin to get up to go. A quick discussion of options comes to this: we’ll go back to Ovruch and drop Ser Balderich off there, so he can recover and protect the town. In the morning, we’ll travel to the town of Holzog to bring the tapestry to Ser Quentin - perhaps he will be interested in our stories, as well. Gral certainly wants to discuss something with the Cursebreaker.

As everybody’s putting on their backpacks and stuff, Shoshana interjects, confused. Um...aren’t you guys...forgetting something?

Ser Balderich considers. “...yes.” He comes over to her, and she closes her eyes, readying for it.

“...I did not thank you, for rescuing me. You have my gratitude.”

N-no, you guys, don’t you need to...? Y’know? Take care of me, now that the Hunt and the bandits are dealt with?

...Oh.

Ser Balderich scoffs, compassionately. “Shoshana, I saw you reject the power that altar could have given you.” (Player: wait what? DM: yeah, there was a magic item in there”) “You were given your abilities, and what did you do with them? You took care of cats. You are not the monster you believe yourself to be.”

Valeria is nodding. Gral is nodding. Even Clem is nodding. Shoshana’s brain just about fails to compute; you can see the blue screen behind her eyes. We pack up, find a quiet spot in the woods to bury poor Mordecai the woodsman, and make our way back to Shoshana’s place to crash.

---

We roll against the Taint we acquired in the Hunt’s territory. Gral and Clem fully save. Valeria takes a minor corruption. Shoshana is offered a deal by the DM and takes it, gaining a minor corruption as well.

We each draw a card for the next session: The Hunter, The Knight, The Madness, and The Heretic.

[forsetti]

On Internal Struggles: Eliot Ness Versus Jim Malone

As I've said many times on this blog, I write mostly as an avenue to vent.  I vent in order to release the mental pressures of being a self-aware person who treasures truth in a world where superficiality, intellectual laziness, and ignorance have become badges of honor for a lot of folks.  This pressure has been turned up to eleven the past few months to the point where I am having a hard time releasing it fast enough to keep me sane.  One reason for this build up of pressure is because I'm not as busy at work this time of year so I have far too much mental free time.  Another and much more significant reason is the sheer amount of dumbfuckery and bullshit that's been thrown around by conservatives and by far too many on the left.  Dealing with this from just one side is often overwhelming. Dealing with it from two fronts has pushed things, at times, almost to the point of depression.

On top of all of this, I've had to seriously rethink strategies and attitudes about how to think about and deal with certain individuals and groups of people.  How do I think about and treat someone who has been more than willing to stand up and vote for thinks completely antithetical to everything I believe?  How do I think about and treat people and organizations who spent the past eight years lying about, obstructing, and demonizing facts, laws, precedents, history, and President Obama, who are now demanding “unity” and “bipartisanship”?  How do I think about and treat people who spent the past eight years using every negative, derogatory, and racist term around to talk about Michelle Obama and her two girls, who are now demanding no one say a mean thing about Melania or Barron Trump?  How do I think about and treat Republican leaders who met the night of President Obama's first inaugural to lay out a strategy of obstructing and denying anything the new president put forth, even though we were in the midst of a major economic crisis, who now are saying Democrats need to work with them for the good of the country? How do I think about and treat these same Republicans who let a Supreme Court seat go unfilled for almost a year, refused to even hold hearings for the nominee, and made up reasons for doing so out of whole cloth, who are now lecturing Democratic Senators for wanting to see ethics reports on Cabinet nominees before holding hearings? How do I think about and treat so-called progressives who did everything they could to damage the candidacy of Hillary Clinton, who are now whining about all the anti-progressive things being proposed by the new administration?  How do I think about and treat these same “progressives” who berated anyone who tried to talk to them about their horrible behaviors and piss-poor strategy, who now are having second thoughts about them?  How do I think about and treat people who are proud of being ignorant and deny basic facts.  How do I think about and treat people who did everything they could to make sure Hillary looked bad and didn't win, who are now demanding we all join forces to resist the Trump administration?

All of these and more keep churning in my head and so far I don't have any good, easy answers.  One reason I'm having such difficulty with all of this is because I've been able to hold and take a theoretical stance about things most of my life.  It is easy to “stay above the fray” when the fray doesn't really impact your life.  Believing progressives should always take the high ground is great in theory, but not very practical against an opponent who cares less about ethics, rules, and standards of behavior.  Believing you should always treat people with respect is great in theory, but not practical against those who refuse to treat you the same.  Believing everyone has reasons for why they do and say what they do is wonderful, but it is a gross mistake to think and treat their reasons as being good and rational.

Part of the problem is my Christian upbringing of “turning the other cheek” and “loving your enemy” is in conflict with the pragmatic side of my nature.  It seems the more progressives “turn their other cheek” the harder they get slapped by conservatives. The more we “love our enemy,” the more our enemy damages and takes away the very things we cherish the most.  At some point, the definition of insanity-”doing the same thing over and over expecting a different result,” has to set in and a lesson needs to be learned.  I feel like part of me is Eliot Ness in “The Untouchables” wanting to do things squeaky clean, by the book, and above board against an enemy who has no guiding rules other than do whatever it takes to win.  Then, there is the other part of me that is Sean Connery's character in the movie, Jim Malone, “You wanna know how to get Capone? They pull a knife, you pull a gun. He sends one of yours to the hospital, you send one of his to the morgue. That's the Chicago way! And that's how you get Capone. Now, do you want to do that? Are you ready to do that?”  It's this battle to find a balance between these two sides that is causing me so much trouble. I don't think I'm alone in this struggle.  I see Democratic members of Congress going through this right now in deciding whether or not to do their civic duty to protect and help the American people as best they can or take a firm stand against the new administration by not supporting anything it does even though by doing so they are going against their beliefs about how government should work and their desire to help people.  I understand this internal conflict.  There isn't an easy answer.  Part of the reason it is so difficult is because these are not even close to ordinary circumstances.   I didn't like Ronald Reagan or George W. Bush but on some level, they played by the rules.  Even though they had some really horrible ideas and policies, on some level they respected the history, standards, and protocols of running the country.  There was a common understanding and agreement everyone could work from no matter what the disagreements.  This commonality no longer exists. It's been eroded and destroyed intentionally by conservatives over the past twenty-three years.  It started with Newt Gingrich when he became Speaker of the House and adopted an aggressive, anti-cooperation, demonize your opponent at every opportunity approach to governing.  As time passed, conservatives have taken Newt's strategy, modified and amped it up to the point where not only do they run their campaigns on bragging about not cooperating, they have completely destroyed all notions of standards and protocols. They are so wedded to this strategy, they willingly vote against their own bills and abandon their own policy ideas if it looks like Democrats will vote for them.  The Dream Act?  Backed by a lot of Republicans right up to the moment it was supported by President Obama, then it suddenly became horrible policy.  Cap and Trade? Supported by a large number of Republicans until Democrats proposed it.  Health care reform with an individual mandate to help fund it? A Heritage Foundation idea that was implemented by a Republican governor in Massachusetts, that suddenly became a “socialist takeover of the American health care system,” when the Democratic president suggested it.  Raising the debt ceiling?  Never an issue when a Republican is the president but an existential crisis when a Democrat holds office.  Shutting down the government when they don't get their way?  Only been done by Republicans.  Holding up a Supreme Court nominee leaving the Court without being fully staffed?  Never been done in history until last year by the Republican-led Senate. Norms, protocols, standards...none of these things mean anything to today's conservatives.  They are fighting with knifes while progressives have been fighting back with scathing editorials.  They aren't going to change.  In fact, they have been and only gotten worse because they haven't suffered any consequences for their behaviors.  This needs to change.  It's time for progressives to become less Eliot Ness and more Jim Malone. This means progressives need to put aside some of their beliefs and attitudes about “playing fair” and “playing nice.”  This doesn't mean we have to adopt the devoid of ethics strategies of conservatives, but we have to be willing to play hard and mean when necessary.  It is possible to be tough but not lower ourselves to the same level as conservatives.  Of course, this is a very difficult balance to achieve but is necessary if we are going to compete against an opponent who has no regard for the rules.  The same goes for dealing with individuals.  I don't need to resort to name calling or personal attacks when dealing with someone who uses these tactics on me, but I certainly can throw their own “logic,” words, arguments, and strategies back on them.  I can point out their hypocrisies.  I can cram facts down their throat at every turn.  I can hold them accountable for the consequences of their actions and decisions.  If they howl they are not being treated fairly, too fucking bad.  They forfeited the right to judge and bitch about behavior a long time ago.  They need to pay a price.  The best way to make them pay is to vote them out of office.  As long as they are allowed to win elections, they will not only never change, they will only get worse (as we've seen this last election.)  They need to be politically marginalized.  This means voting for the progressive who has the best chance of beating them.   If there is a Republican and a Democrat on the ballot.  Vote for the Democrat even if they aren't the best Democrat.  A bad Democrat is infinitely better than the best Republican right now in American politics.  Every time we allow Republicans to win an election, we are rewarding their bad behaviors. Saying, “both parties are the same” or “there is no difference between the candidates” is nothing more than bringing a knife to a gun fight.  Whenever this happens, we are going to lose and lose badly.

It's time to get away from the theoretical world us progressives love so much and get down to the dirty business of politics.  This doesn't mean we abandon our ideals or what we really want to see happen.  It just means none of those things are even remotely a possibility without having the power to make them happen.  This power is never going to be given to us and we aren't going to get it without a tremendous fight.  Conservative white men have had power for centuries.  They aren't going to cede it without fighting for it tooth and nail.  They have shown how badly and dirty they'll fight to keep it and they haven't even scratched the surface of how low and nasty they'll go.  American fascism is being built and centered on white male dominance.  You don't fight fascists with scathing arguments.  You fight them with necessary and justifiable force.  If they have a march of 400,000 people.  We march with a million.  If they impose voter restrictions that impact 100,000 minorities, we go out and register 250,000.  If they impose Muslim registrations, we all register as Muslim.  If they roll out a heavily armed force against a Black Lives Matters protest, we surround the protesters as a protective buffer.  The one thing we shouldn't do is “turn the other cheek.”  

This brings me to Democrats in Congress.  Initially, it looked like they were going to oppose Trump, especially when it came to his highly unqualified cabinet appointees.  So far, this hasn't happened.  Not even a little bit.  They just voted to for Ben Carson to be head of HUD, Nikki Haley to be the US Ambassador to the U.N., and it doesn't look like they are putting up any resistance to Rex Tillerson for Secretary of State or any other nominee when it comes time to vote. The argument given is Dems want to “pick their battles” with Trump.  What the fuck?  Everything Trump has suggested, every single Executive Order so far, every single nominee has been an all-out war against progressivism and Dems are focused on winning a battle here or there?  The U.S. unemployment has skyrocketed, Muslim refugees have been banned, a wall is being built on the Mexican border, massive voter registration restrictions have been passed, the U.S. has undermined NATO, women's rights have been crushed, a trade war with China was started, ACA was repealed, the social safety nets gutted, massive tax cuts for the rich passed...but Dems stopped Trump from putting somebody on the 7th Circuit Court?  That's the fucking strategy?  I'm being told they are doing this to be “pragmatic.”  I'm a devout pragmatist.  This isn't pragmatic. This is stupid.  And, all the so-called “progressive icons” like Bernie Sanders, Elizabeth Warren, and Sherrod Brown are willingly playing along with this strategy.  Again, I understand why they are doing this.  They want the government to operate, for norms and standards to have meaning, to not look like they are the reason why people are disillusioned with government.  I get this.  However, their opponent doesn't give a damn about these things.  In fact, their stated goal is to destroy all of these things.  They are playing a different game that doesn't have any rules and they are winning.  You can't defeat them playing a different game with rules.

Conservatives have been waging a war against progressivism for decades.  The Tea Party and Trump are nothing more than the logical outcomes of years of rightwing propaganda and warfare.  Their goal isn't to win a battle against progressivism.  Their goal is to wipe it out.  They now have the political power to deliver a mortal blow.  Now is not the time to be satisfied with winning a battle here or there.  “The environment, minorities, women, the economy...were royally fucked, but we won a minor battle” is not a pragmatic.  This approach isn't even bringing a knife to a gun fight.  It's bringing a month old limp carrot to a gun fight and being proud of your weapon of choice.  Dems are treating things as if they were dealing with normal politics, a normal opponent, a normal administration.  There is nothing normal about Trump, his base or today's conservatives.  They don't play by the rules.  They don't care about standards of conduct.  They don't care about anything other than their ideology.  Viewing and treating the situation differently then this is a huge mistake.  Now is not the time to “turn the other cheek” or “love your enemies” because your enemy doesn't feel remorse, guilt, empathy, sympathy, humanity...that would cause them to stop hitting you.  They are devoid of these traits.  They are sociopathic and will keep hitting you long after the fight has been called and your body is cold and rigid.  If you don't view them for who they are and recognize what they have and will do, they will keep on doing what they do.  

Conservatives have not paid any price at the polls for their horrible behaviors. The main reason why is because Democrats give them cover.  Stop it. Let them own their failures, completely.  Don't vote for a single thing they propose.  You don't need to.  They have the numbers to pass anything they want.  Let them.  But, don't leave your fingerprints on their policies.  If Dems don't vote for a single thing and the country goes bad, they can say it wasn't because of them.  If they take this “win a battle here or there” approach, when things go south, voters will blame them as well as Republicans and Republicans will use this “both sides” to weasel their way out of being held accountable.  The main reasons Democrats took Congress and the White House in the 2008 election was because of the massive failures of the Bush administration.  Trump is going to make Bush look like Lincoln.  Let him fail.  Continually point out how he and the Republicans have failed to deliver on their promises and how their policies have hurt the working class.  But, for God's sake, don't willingly put your fingerprints on the murder weapon.   Somehow, some way progressives need to figure out how to take a high road while fighting dirty.  I know this sound contradictory and maybe it is.  All I know is fighting for what is right by the Marquees of Queensberry Rules against an opponent who doesn't give a fuck about rules isn't working.  No amount of arguing or pleading or understanding is going to convince them to start playing by the rules.  No amount of “reaching across the aisle” is going to stop them from their goal of wiping out progressivism.  Democrats need to come to terms with this and quickly.  I wish it was different.  I wish we could have rational conservations and debates about policy differences.  I wish norms, standards, and protocols mattered to conservatives.  I wish facts and truth were a priority.  I wish half of the country wasn't willing to believe right wing propaganda.  No matter how much I wish these to be true they aren't.  I need to form strategies based on how the world is, not how I wish it was.  I need to be less Eliot Ness and more Jim Malone.  So too do other progressives if we want to preserve the things we believe in.