#forgery of the purple logic

[goldenlandfiascos]

why they sitting next to each other??? 🤔🤔🤔🤔🤔

[anawkwardlady]

Jessica leaning against her father after her mother's death (Umineko Episode 6) // Jessica leaning against her mother after her father's death (Umineko Forgery of the Purple Logic)

[anime-to-the-t]

[ebanatsu]

Old question from curiouscat : The sexual tension between Eva and Nappi in forgery of purple logic is so fucking thick like holy shit - Anonymous, 11 Jan 2021 

anon you could have stopped after Nappi ... remember when eva grabbed natsuhi's collar and then natsuhi grabbed eva's collar and both were like "bitch"

[greengargouille]

It’s been more than a month since I told myself I must reread the Umineko canon-adjacent Forgery of the Purple Logic to try to tackle the mystery, and since I was at the end of my tab cleaning spree, I figured that today was the day. I already had read it out whole before- I considered stopping before the last chapter to try to solve it, but couldn’t resist. Not that it mattered much ; I was unaware then that no, the answer to the game isn’t given, and there in fact no official one. (spoilers for the whole thing underneath)

Of course, it is much easier when you already read the whole story. Knowing Erika is the detective, Battler and Maria are innocent (and so Rosa too) and Nanjo is a big liar, it becomes much easier. Now, Nanjo’s statement about his accomplice wasn’t in purple- so for all we know, he sincerely thought there was only one culprit responsible for all the murders besides her own, and that culprit is a woman. ...It’s pretty obvious who it is with the early murders. Regardless of how we think about Nanjo’s declaration, Erika confirms the culprit is a lone woman ; the second twilight’s murders were committed by the same woman, who is able to use the wire cutter- that leaves indeed both Jessica and Natsuhi able to do it. ...I admit, I thought for a moment that they were both culprits, due to their purple statements toward each other in the warehouse, so that threw me on a loop when Natsuhi is confirmed dead by Battler, which I did not remember. I had to go back to realise the trick in the wording. I also got confused about the seals things since I thought it was Battler who said it, it’s only after rereading the statements on the wiki that I got corrected on that it was Nanjo who said it. Which makes it much easier. I suppose, he left one exit unsealed, Jessica left, and when the group checked whether a seal have been destroyed, he then applied it or lied about said seal existing ; because they didn’t want to break the seals, they couldn’t check whether the bodies were still here. ...Now, that means that after Battler was murdered, Jessica came back to the warehouse, and Nanjo killed her here and (re)sealed completely the place before coming back to the latest crime scene? All of that without the rain indiscriminating their clothes? Feels like it would take some time, but then the warehouse is near the guesthouse, and I feel like that’s the only possible solution? -- ...I am so curious about Jessica’s point of view in this though. She was frustrated with this island and this family, to the point of murder when Nanjo encouraged her, but we don’t know much more than that. Did she decide to do it during the family reunion on purpose, to eliminate her extended family, or was it because they happened to be here when now was the ideal moment, with the typhoon? Did she have any particular grief against the servants? ...Was Shannon’s absence an unexplained convenience for the game we’re supposed to go along with, or does it have relevance within the game? It would be sweet but mostly hilarious in a dark way that Jessica asks Shannon to go on vacation during this period, because she doesn’t want to kill her friend, only for, you know... Then, given this is a little game made by Beatrice. How likely it is Sayo thought of such a scenario? “I’m going to write a story where Jessica murders everyone and then rejoin Shannon with all the gold, and they spend the rest of their days happily together. *scratch scratch* Hm. This is difficult. Maybe I should introduce another character. Should I give Jessica an accomplice, too? It would really make it easier for me if this was Dr. Nanjo. As for the reason... Let’s make him the one who solve the epitaph and discover the gold. *Hours of writing later* ...Wait, actually. He would probably just kill her to cover all evidences, wouldn’t he? Damnit, I got too caught up in the murder mystery, why can I never write happy endings.”

[azdoine]

Have you read the Umineko manga spinoff Forgery of the Purple Logic? I'm curious if you have any thoughts about the motive of the accomplice in that game.

I have not! but I really need to do so eventually

[boreothegoldfinch]

chapter 11 paragraph viii

Inside the parking garage, which vibrated depressingly with olive-green light, there were a number of empty spaces in the long-term area despite the Full sign. As we nosed into the space a man in a sports coat lounging against a white Range Rover threw his cigarette in a spit of orange cinders and walked toward the car. His receding hairline, his tinted aviators and his taut military torso gave him the wind-whipped look of an ex-pilot, a man who monitored delicate instruments at some test site in the Urals. “Victor,” he said, when we got out of the car, crushing my hand in his. Gyuri and Boris received a thump on the back. After terse preliminaries in Russian, a baby-faced curly-headed teenager climbed out of the driver’s seat and was greeted, by Boris, with a slap on the cheek and a jaunty seven note whistle: On the Good Ship Lollipop. “This is Shirley T,” he said to me, rumpling the corkscrew curls. “Shirley Temple. We all call him that—why? Can you guess?”—laughing as the kid, unable to help it, smiled in embarrassment, displaying deep dimples. “Do not be deceived by looks,” said Gyuri to me quietly. “Shirley looks like baby but he has as much onions as any of us here.” Politely, Shirley nodded at me—did he speak English? it didn’t seem so— and opened the back door of the Range Rover for us and the three of us climbed in—Boris, Gyuri, and me—while Victor Cherry sat up front and talked to us from the passenger seat. “This should be easy,” he said to me formally as we pulled out of the garage and back out onto the Overtoom. “Straightforward pawn.” Up close his face was broad and knowing, with a small prim mouth and a wry alertness that made me feel somewhat less agitated about the logic of the evening, or the lack of it: the car changes, the lack of direction and information, the nightmare foreignness. “We are doing Sascha a favor and because of that? He is going to behave nice to us.” Long low buildings. Disjointed lights. There was a sense that it wasn’t happening, that it was happening to someone who wasn’t me. “Because can Sascha walk in bank and get a loan on the painting?” Victor was saying, pedantically. “No. Can Sascha walk in a pawn shop and get a loan on the painting? No. Can Sascha due to circumstances of theft go to any of his usual connections from Horst and get a loan on the painting? No. Therefore Sascha is extremely glad of the appearance of mystery American—you—who I have hooked him up with.” “Sascha shoots heroin the way that you and I breathe,” said Gyuri to me quietly. “One stitch of money and he is out buying big load of drugs like clockwork.” Victor Cherry adjusted his glasses. “Exactly. He is not art lover and he is not particular. He is utilizing picture like high interest credit card or so he thinks. Investment for you—cash for him. You front him the money—you hold the painting as security—he buys schmeck, keeps half, steps on the rest and sells it, and returns with double your money in one month to pick up the painting. And if? In one month he does not return with double your money? The painting is yours. Like I said. Simple pawn.”

“Except not so simple—” Boris stretched, and yawned—“because when you vanish? and bank draft is bad? What can he do? If he runs to Horst and calls for help on this one he will have his neck broken for him.” “I am glad they have changed the meeting place so many times. It is a little bit ridiculous. But it helps because today is Friday,” said Victor, taking off his aviators and polishing them on his shirt. “I made them think you were backing out. Because they kept cancelling and changing the plan—you did not even arrive until today, but they do not know that—because they kept changing the plan I told them you were tired and nervous of sitting around Amsterdam with suitcase of green waiting to hear from them, you’d rebanked your moneys and were flying back to U.S. They did not like to hear that. So—” he nodded at the bag—“here it is the weekend, and banks are closed, and you are bringing what cash you have, and—well, they have been talking to me plenty, lots of time on the phone and I have met with them once already down in a bar in the Red Light, but they have agreed to bring the painting and make the exchange tonight without prior meeting of you, because I have told them your plane leaves tomorrow, and because they have fucked around on their end it is bank draft for the balance or nothing. Which —well, they did not like, but they accepted as proper explanation for bank draft. Makes things easier.” “Much easier,” said Boris. “I was not sure how bank draft was going to go over. Better if they think the bank draft is their own fault for dicking around.” “What’s the place?” “Lunchcafe.” He pronounced it as one word. “De Paarse Koe.” “That means ‘the Purple Cow’ in Dutch,” said Boris helpfully. “Hippie place. Close to the Red Light.” Long lonely street—shut-up hardware stores, stacks of brick by the side of the road, all of it important and hyper-significant somehow even though it was speeding by in the dark much too fast to see. “Food is so awful,” said Boris. “Sprouts and some hard old wheat toast. You would think hot girls go there but is just old gray-head women and fat.” “Why there?” “Because quiet street in the evening,” said Victor Cherry. “Lunchcafe is closed, after hours, but because semi-public nothing will get out of control, see?” Everywhere: strangeness. Without noticing it I’d left reality and crossed the border into some no-man’s-land where nothing made sense. Dreaminess, fragmentation. Rolled wire and piles of rubble with the plastic sheeting blown to the side. Boris was speaking to Victor in Russian; and when he realized I was looking at him, he turned to me. “We are only saying, Sascha is in Frankfurt tonight,” he said, “hosting party at a restaurant for some friend of his just got out of jail, and we are all of us confirmed on this from three different sources, Shirley too. He thinks he is being smart, staying out of town. If it gets back to Horst what has happened here tonight he wants to be able to throw up his hands and say, ‘Who, me? I had nothing to do with it.’ ” “You,” said Victor to me, “you are based in New York. I have said you are an art dealer, arrested for forgery, and now run an operation like Horst’s— much smaller scale in terms of paintings, much larger in terms of money.” “Horst—God bless him,” said Boris. “Horst would be the richest man in New York except he gives it all away, every cent. Always has. Supports many many persons besides himself.” “Bad for business.” “Yes. But he enjoys company.” “Junkie philanthropist, ha,” said Victor. He pronounced it philanthropist. “Good they die off time to time or who knows how many schmeckheads crammed in that dump with him. Anyway—less you say in there, the better. They will not be expecting polite conversation. This is all business. It will be fast. Give him the bank draft, Borya.” Boris said something sharp in Ukrainian. “No, he should produce it himself. It should be from his hand.” Both bank draft, and deposit slip, were printed with the words Farruco Frantisek, Citizen Bank Anguilla, which only increased the sense of dream trajectory, a

track speeding up too fast to slow down. “Farruco Frantisek? I’m him?” Under the circumstances it felt like a meaningful question—as if I might be somehow disembodied or at least had passed beyond a certain horizon where I was freed of basic facts like identity. “I did not choose the name. I had to take what I could get.” “I’m supposed to introduce myself as this?” There was something wrong with the paper, which was too flimsy, and the fact that the slips said Citizen Bank and not Citizen’s Bank made them look all wrong. “No, Cherry will introduce you.”

Farruco Frantisek. Silently I tried the name out, turned my tongue around it. Even though it was a hard name to remember, it was just strong and foreign enough to carry the lost-in-space hyperdensity of the black streets, tram tracks, more cobblestones and neon angels—back in the old city now, historic and unknowable, canals and bicycle racks and Christmas lights shaking on the dark water. “When were you going to tell him?” Victor Cherry was asking Boris. “He needs to know what his name is.” “Well now he knows.” Unknown streets, incomprehensible turns, anonymous distances. I’d stopped even trying to read the street signs or keep track of where we were. Of everything around me—of all I could see—the only point of reference was the moon, riding high above the clouds, which though bright and full seemed weirdly unstable somehow, void of gravity, not the pure anchoring moon of the desert but more like a party trick that might pop out at a conjurer’s wink or else float away into the darkness and out of sight.

[theinsanecrayonbox]

it’s Paige Day, so hows about a crazy cat lore dump

y’all know my crazy cats Paige and Cizma; Paige being the mortal extension of an eldritch entity of creation and inspiration, while Cizma is her time aberration echo that’s kinda evil nuts. but did you know there’s others Paiges...kinda

Neumeria Scribe, True Neutral -Neumeria is from the abandoned bad future timeline where Deskaris took over with the Xenomorphs, Ronnie died to be a Xeno-Queen, and Renza was born. she is the prime Paige here, the real/first Paige having been lost at some pint. Neumeria was one of the remaining survivors that helped get Renza and Brutus to the time gate, so she could send Renza back in time to try to stop the invasion/infestation. HOWEVER that was before Paige went back in time with her gang, creating the paradox that made Cizma (and to an extension InkShade). Neimeria is the logical neutral one (with Paige being CG, Cizma CE, because the Mad Muse is CN)

Inspiro “Spiro” Page, alignment unknown -he started as “lol male!Paige lets just invert the colors” but then i realized that that just made him the magic tuxedo cat from Cats...but then as i was coloring him something weird happened; he has a few InkShade traits...is that because he’s part InkShade/ is he another incarnation of InkShade? is InkShade just the only male persona the Muse can base a Paige off of? hmmmm...but mainly black cat with spray paint

Faybelle Mythe and Story, Chaotic Good -Faye...is not a Paige...well, not in the way the others are. Faye is a Story Summoner, and she somehow tapped into the primordial void the Mad Muse resides in and summoned a Grimalkyn as her Eidolon, which she named Story. the Muse hadn’t had much contact with the mortal plane before that, and went “huh, i like this kid, lets make one so i can walk around” and thus Paige was molded after Faye...in the main universe; she might also be the Exandrian!Paige, since the Muse is locked beyond the Divine Gate, so whether this is the original Faye, or Paige “reset” without the Muse’s direct influence, who can say...(you can bet that InkShade is interested to find out though *winkwink*)

a recurring theme in the Mad Muse Mythos is the prismatic arrangement of Red-Orange-Yellow-Green-Blue-Purple-Pink-White-Black. 9 colors, for the 9 lives of a cat.

i also like the trinity of Paige, Cizma, and Neumeria because like i said above, they make the triangle of moralities you get from the Muse’s CN alignment.

and there’s also the naming conventions here; -Serendipity Paige/Inspirio Page: inspiration put to paper -Cizmadia Mirage: an echoing sound -Neumeria Scribe: numbers put to paper -Faybelle Mythe: the stories we tell -InkShade: in reference to “disappearing ink” and even forgeries (since he’s not exactly the same make as the rest of these guys, plus being a shadow himself made of the inky goo that makes grimalkyn)

the Mad Muse is supposed to be primordial, unadulterated inspiration and creativity, and each of its extensions truly do embody that potential...while also being crazy kitty cats of shadowy goo sometimes

[afterthelastreset]

A Family

What exactly made up a family? Most would picture a small house with a picket fence, a mom and dad, and a little boy and girl running around. But truth is it's not always that simple. Family is beyond blood or marriage. It's who's always making you smile and there for you....Or in his case a smiling lunatic that wouldn't leave him alone for five minutes.  It was hard to concentrate on the stack of paperwork when a floating purple imp kept staring at him over for is shoulder at him working nonstop. Turning his head, he gave the lunatic an irritated look to which he just smiled at. "You shouldn't, shouldn't be working this late. It's not healthy, healthy. The stress is bad you know-" "Well how doth thou thinkest I feeleth when mine privacy is invaded constantly!" The floating man shrugged and turned to lay on it's stomach. "Can you really blame me? After all this thing, thing was your idea." He groaned before turning back to the stack of papers. How much stuff did Lancer go through? "I amst not disabled...just...a bit more uncapable of doing certain things. *ahem*" He made a hum noise, the kind that sounded like he didn't really beleive him. "Oh!...G-Go stuff thine head in thy dirt with the other worms!!" He gave off another round of giggles and floated over to lean against his back as he continued to bend over the paperwork and write. "You're too stubborn, stubborn for you're own good. Relax, relax." "And exactly how amst I supposed to doth that when thou won't leaveth me alone for five minutes!!" He shot Jevil a look over his shoulder and the gremlin leaning against him shrugged. "This was all your idea, idea. Something about missing, missing the joys of children." "I thinkst I get it! Thou doesn't need to rubbeth it in." "I wasn't trying, trying to. Im only thinking of our youth, youth." Rouxls didn't answer this time and instead suddenly found the paper very interesting as he looked at it instead of Jevil. The Imp chuckled at the action and poked his shoulder a few times to get back his attention, but the worm was more stubborn when he wanted to be. After a few moments, the tapping at his shoulder stopped and he continued to refocus on the work in front of himself. With a sigh he dipped the weather back into the inkpot and refocused back onto his calligraphy.  The jester remained oddly silent. Usually hed be clingy as a love struck rabbick, even more so as the news of the new arrival who would soon be joining their family of loons. Here's hoping the baby wouldn't be too much like Jevil or Seam. The two were overcrowding him enough as it was, sometimes literally ignoring their own jobs just to bud into whatever he was doing and get to him to qoute 'relax', but hed be lying if he didnt think it wasn't a sweet gesture. Considering he could sometimes go a bit far with his work....sometimes. A light russle of paper sounded out. A second later he could feel one of the papers under his hands begin to slowly move from under the pile-  Said hand slapped down on the paper but it was quick to slip from in between his fingers and into the suspended air. It stalled a moment before zipping behind him out of his veiw. "HEY!" His head whipped to the side to the sight of Jevil sitting crosslegged in midair reading the containts of the paper with a raised brow. He reached a hand out as to grab the paper, but jevil just casually floated out of his reach. To be fair his reflexes weren't the fastest at the moment with the extra weight, and that frustrated him to no end. "Wouldst thou mindeth giving that backest?" "No wonder, wonder you're so cranky. So cranky. " He turned from the paper to him. "This tax, tax work makes no sense, sense." "Well someone has to do it. And Lancer tis nay capable of doing any sort of lawkeeping." He hummed before giving Rouxls a smile. "Why don't I give you a hand, hand?" To which Rouxls frowned. "What art thou spewing noweth?" "I can lighten, lighten the work load." He rose a brow. "THOU knows how to doeth taxes and thine law calligraphy?" He nodded. "And how doth thou knoest that?" "Taxes and politics are chaotic, chaotic. Of course, course I would understand it." Of course that would be his answer. With a sigh he looked back to the small stack of papers still on the desk, it wasnt too big. He could probably finish it himself within a few hours, but knowing Jevil, the loon wouldn't stop unless he agreed to let him help out someway or another. But if he screwed up any of this stuff, it would result in a bigger headache later. Was it worth the trouble- More papers flew up with a snap of Jevil's claws and the loon to glanced through the floating papers. He sighed and reached a hand up to rub his face. "Art thou sureth thou knows what you're doing?" "I CAN DO ANYTHING!" Rouxls groaned and rolled his eyes but didn't argue and went back down to what papers were left on the desk. Only to find that there wasn't any left. "Whomst thee-?" He looked back to the floating menace who was casually lounging on his back, similar to how one woulf in a hammock, humming away to himself. Paper after paper went in front of him, something scribbled down on each of them before flying off with a flick of his wrist. One after another. It took him a moment for his brain to realize what he meant by 'helping' was taking all the papers and just writing his name on them all. "And just what art thou doing to mine papers?! That tis forgery!" He attempted to reach for them but Jevil simply pushed his hand away without looking at him. "That's illegal and against thine rules!" "You and your boring, boring rules and laws. Trust me. When have I, I caused you wrong-" "Tis that a rhetorical question?" "Oh let me, me perform my duty." Rouxls sputtered but pouted and sat back in his desk chair. Jevil giggled at his win and continued to focus on the task at hand as the worm was still grumbling at his antics. But fighting against Jevil would just result in going no where. Especially in his current state. After a few minutes of just sitting there with the scratching of paper he groaned and looked back to him. "Art thou finished yet?", he asked irritated. "Almost, almost," he replied without even looking at him, "So impatient. Impatient." "Well what doth thou expect?!" He could feel his eye twitch. "Thou and Seam art driving mineself mad with thous' overbearing insistence on helping me and nay giving mineself space! Thou art treating me like a fragile flower!" For a moment the scribbling stopped and the wide grin of the imp slowly turned to him as Jevil turned his head and looked down at him with a raised brow. Rouxls inturn rose a brow back in confusion hen he didn't say anything.  "A flower, flower you say?~ Hehe. Then you're saying Im helping, helping you bloom, bloom." The worm went quiet for a moment, Jevil giggled as his brain worked on the reversed logic thrown at him. And his face became bluer, and bluer as he sputtered and forced out something that sounded like, "I-Insolent worm!" Making Jevil go into another laughing fit at the angry blue worm. "You know you love me, me.~" "Well....T-Thou makest it v-very hard to do." "Good. Now hush up and relax, relax. Ill be helping, helping for a lllloooong while."

A mimi nosuit fic. I don’t own the characters. 

[cloverchats]

The Crowns (A short story by Nick Davis, me.) Note: This is a peek into my own version of the minecraft world, its mysterious, ambiguous, and not completely explained.

It was after me, I didn't know exactly what or who was chasing me down but I could feel my adrenaline rushing through me. The otherworldly stone beneath me, seemingly making my fleeing so much harder, flatland turning to small hills within seconds. The orange squash surrounding my head feeling pivotal to my survival for no given reason, I don't dare to take it off despite my vision being so narrow. 

All of a sudden I hear something flying down, something large, could it be…?

No that’s impossible, I thought, that thing has been gone for centuries and it will never come back. 

The reality of the situation ignores my sense of logic as I feel my body batted away by something long and scaly, my back quickly hitting a large pillar, The imitation of a head shattering, its seeds and other contents spilling out and flying all around me, just like what is going to happen to my own head. 

I see in front of me the very beast of legend that died long ago, but now in the flesh, she is scarier than any campfire story told of her.

She loudly approached me, purple fire gathering in her humongous maw, almost ready to end my life with one blow,

I scream, exasperated, tears coming to my eyes, “What do you want? What do you want with me?”

Dominance is the last thing I hear whispered right behind me before I wake up with a cold sweat.

The salty fluids of my own fear covered me as if I just took a shower full of it. 

My eyes were widened, the world spinning with the radiant glows of a fiery pink, was my mind playing cruel tricks on me or is there something else going on?

I wandered to my forge, right next to my bedroom so I can always get started on my various projects. 

Three special tables were set up, the glowing colors emanating from them. 

The sources were a special project I was paid riches upon riches to do despite me still not knowing what the purpose was.

A man had somehow broken into my forge and left the money, and the supplies in a box beside his bed, a letter explaining the commission, the instructions, and how the sender would simply pick up the product of the labors later. 

Despite being scared of a man who owned artifacts of world history being able to get into my house without a trace, I decided to comply for both the riches and my safety.

I have never had a safe life, I was taken in by bandits that murdered my parents, I had to do horrible crimes and things before they trusted me enough so I could escape, and the journey to find my own place and make a living was even worse, getting robbed, beaten, and almost eaten by the monsters that lurk through the night.

And even now I always get jobs where I have to waste my time and money making some grand weapon or item of value or I get my life put on the line. But this, despite the high pay, might be the most dangerous job I had ever received and I knew barely anything about it.

Laying on each table was a crown, one that supposedly belonged to the first ever king of the overworld, (It's still debated who is the first king), one that belongs to the current king, and one that will belong to the next. 

I had been given three glowing shards to imprint upon the crowns, seemingly broken off some form of magical artifact but I wasn't told what. It took a lot of hard forgery but I was able to get them deep inside the metals of the crowns. But the thing is, and I swear I am not insane,  like the shards were whispering, but it was all so…. Distorted? Like I wasn't supposed to hear what they were saying. 

Magical, Cursed, Possessed or otherwise, the crowns were finished and ready to pickup whenever my mysterious buyer decided to show up. Hopefully soon because I was not trusting that glow.

All of a sudden, I started walking, but not of my own accord, towards the glow, the disorienting  whispers becoming more and more clear. 

Pick one.

I try to stop my feet, but they keep on going. I think to myself about why the whispers wanted me to take one of the crowns, I came up with nothing beneficial.

Oh it will benefit you, The crowns start floating as I get nearer, The power of one shard can control entire islands, think of what you can do with that power.

I dont trust it, I try to pull away from the nearest crown taking me in. 

No one that breaks into your place can hurt you

I stop struggling for a second before resuming

No dragon could kill you

There is no dragon!

And you will be safe for all eternity 

I come to a complete stop, was my want for safety now stopping me from having an actual life of safety, can this crown right before me actually give me the power to not just create whatever project I desire but be protected against anything or anyone that wishes me harm?

I grab the crown and visions all of a sudden cloud my mind, the whispers becoming screaming, the world becoming a glow, I was becoming the most powerful man the world will ever-

I hear a swoosh of moments and within seconds I get sliced  in half by a mysterious figure, carrying a scythe. My blood and guts spilling out like the pumpkin in my dream, the last thing I ever see is a figure with glowing white eyes, grabbing my crown and putting his fut down on my face as I take my final exasperated breath. 

No one will ever harm me again.

[goldenlandfiascos]

[leah-rainweaver]

Investigation in Kalimdor

Fifty gold for a journey across the world and then a return trip; to Leah’s surprise, Glauric had been right about the estimate for costs. She’d traveled to Menethil Harbor with Marcail, and there, had found a vessel that was heading to Ratchet. Privateers, the captain had called her crew with a reassuring smile. Privateers or pirates, Leah was just happy to have found someone willing to go to Ratchet, as most merchant vessels or otherwise seemed to be heading to Kul Tiras these days. War was profitable, she’d been told after a couple of inquiries. And so, with Marcail told to stay, because the vessel did not allow large animals, Leah had sailed away from the Eastern Kingdoms, anxious and excited all at once.

The journey had been easy, only running into one storm. Maranya, the captain, explained to Leah that they usually had to outrun at least one patrol from either Kul Tiras or Zandalar when they made this trip. The fact that they hadn’t led Maranya to bestow the title of good luck charm upon Leah. Hopefully that luck would hold out for the rest of Leah’s trip. When they’d arrived at Ratchet, Maranya made sure Leah knew that they would be back in port in two days time, and they would bear her back to Menethil, but it was Leah’s job to be back on time. “As much as I like you, little one, I will not throw my schedule off because you have lost track of time.” Leah had reassured her that she would definitely not be late, if anything she would be back a full day before the vessel was. Or that was her plan.

With her hair braided, and that braid coiled tightly on top of her head, Leah had disembarked in Ratchet, her pack and bedroll slung off her back. It was warm here, and smelled of what she assumed was kodos; the massive beasts of burden were all throughout the town, it was the most likely source of the smell. She stepped off the dock, looking around. Glauric has said to question goblins that worked on the docks, but from her brief scan of the area, that seemed like a bad idea. While there were certainly goblins working on the docks, there were also workers of other races, and many cast suspicious looks Leah’s way. The town was supposed to be a neutral port in this war, but this was still Horde territory, and an obvious member of the Alliance, especially an unknown face, was cause for distrustful rumblings. Remaining on the docks out in the open to question a goblin, did not seem like the wisest choice.

Leah tugged the straps of her pack up higher on her shoulders and set off to the south side of town, away from the bustle of the market area. She spotted a worgen and asked him where the local tavern was, and after an appraising look that made Leah’s skin crawl, he directed her to a building atop a small hill. With a bob of her head, she hurried towards the building, ready to be off the streets.

The dimly lit tavern smelled moldy with hints of smoke and booze mixed in. A troll, who looked to be like a bouncer, sat near the door, picking at his nails. He glanced at Leah when she arrived, but he made no comment or move to stop her from entering. The proprietor, a goblin, sneered.. Or was that a smile?

“Welcome t’ the Broken Keel, miss.” The goblin gave a flourished bow, “We don’t get many dwarves in here. Name’s Wiley. Can I get ya a drink? Food?”

Leah forced a quick smile, bobbing her head, “Some bread and cheese would be nice.” She slipped into a chair at a table near the far wall, facing out towards the rest of the tavern. The young woman tugged her pack off her back and set it on the ground next to her chair, though she did slip one of the straps over her foot so that it couldn’t get stolen easily. There weren’t many people in the tavern, though it was still fairly early in the day. Another goblin man sat at a table across the room with a goblin woman, who was dressed rather provocatively. He seemed very focused on her, and she was laughing with a raspy voice.

Wiley returned with a wooden plate bearing some flatbread and what was probably cheese. “There ya go, Red.” He leaned against the table, “So what brings ya t’ this side of the world?”

She picked up the flatbread and tore off a chunk, pausing before she popped it into her mouth, “I’m a botanist. There’s some seeds from a flower that only grows here that I wanted to try and get my hands on.” Leah glanced away from him as she put the bread in her mouth, chewing slowly.

“Botanist, eh? Don’t get many of those in around here either.” Wiley gestured at her, “If ya need anything else, just holler.” He patted the table and then made his way back over near the bar by the front door.

Leah sat in silence, chewing on the tough flatbread, doing what she hoped was a casual scan of the room every few minutes. A few more patrons had come into the bar, and at some point, the troll by the door had left, though Leah hadn’t noticed him go. Perhaps he wasn’t a bouncer afterall. A trio of goblins entered about twenty minutes after Leah had, and they sat down at the table next to her’s, all talking loudly and arguing with each other. They were talking about the boat that had just come into port, laughing about something they’d sold one of the ‘humies’ that was a forgery.

These goblins might be worth taking a crack at. “Was it Barnes yeh sold it to?” She spoke up, looking at the trio who all turned their heads in unison and eyed Leah with surprise. “Bald fellow, wears a purple bandana…”

They looked between themselves and then back at Leah, trying to decide if she was going to sell them out for the forgery. One finally responded, “Yeah, ya know him?”

Leah snorted, nodding, “He likes t’ play cards as well, next time he’s around, yeh should ask him for a game or two.” She leaned forward to ‘whisper’, “Worst bluffer I’ve ever played with.” She threw out a wink for good measure.

The goblins snickered, “DULY noted. Ya came t’ town with them then?”

“Aye, just passin’ through. There’s some seeds I’m hopin’ t’ get ahold of that grow near the river north o’ here.”

One of the goblins snorted loudly, clearing the flem from his nose, “Sounds boring.” His companions snickered.

Leah chuckled, “I’m sure t’ most it does. Tried t’ buy some off of an orc out east, but they were nae the right kind. Bloke with a whip.” She snapped her fingers as though attempting to recall the orc’s name. Eventually she shrugged, “Anyways, figured I should just come find what I actually wanted myself.”

One of the goblins eyed Leah while the other two exchanged a look, “Nakrath is an herbalist now?” He cackled, “That’s rich, doll.” The others snickered, saying something in orcish to one another.

Nakrath? So her little feint had worked after all. Mentioning the orc with the whip had gotten her a name! Perhaps not the right name, but it was something. She was so pleased with herself that she didn’t notice the troll return, and shortly after he came in, two uniformed orcs did as well. Leah didn’t take notice of them until the pair sat down at the table directly in front of hers, both looking in her direction. She felt a small surge of adrenaline, but tried to act casual, though she knew she was a horrible liar. As normally as she could manage, she bent over and picked up her pack, pulling out a few coins for the food. Leah stood as she dropped the coins on the table, hefting her pack up onto her shoulders. “Take care,” She said to the goblins as she began to leave, doing her level best not to panic when she heard two sets of footsteps following behind her, though not close.

Nothing seemed out of the ordinary as she came back to the street, so she began to make her way back towards the market and docks. Leah absently touched at her belt, making sure that the gems Glauric had given her were still sewn into the waist of her pants. No one had made an effort to stop her. Yet. Was now the time to set the return locations for the bound elementals? She stopped at a stall, turning so that she could subtly glance to her left; the orcs were definitely still following her. Shite, shite, shite. Alright, stay calm. Keep an even head. She took a few deep breaths and continued walking. The logical thing would be to heads to the river, that was her next step, but leading these orcs on a chase towards where she actually wanted to go seemed stupid. So she turned west.

She could always double back when it was dark, but right now she needed somewhere to hide. Leah looked over her shoulder to the docks, noting that the ship was still there. That was always an option, but then she wouldn’t be able to complete the other things she’d come here to do. No, finding a place to hide was her priority. She passed through a small crowd, hoping that with her short stature, the orcs would lose sight of her. To her left was an alleyway, which she ducked into, hiding behind some crates. Her heartbeat thumped in her ears as she crouched, just breathing and waiting. But a minute passed. Two minutes. Five.

That had been.. too easy? She very slowly peeked her head above the crate. No sign of the orcs that had been following her. Leah sighed, leaning back against the building behind her. She had been here less than two hours and already she was messing this up. Should she just call it? This was probably a bad sign, right? An omen? If Glauric were here, he’d say there was no such thing as omens. Forge your own path. She was trying, but she couldn’t change the paths that intersected her own. Leah took a deep breath and closed her eyes, centering herself. She stood, bent low, and crept to the end of the building. It was here that she touched the first of the gems that contained the bound elemental; this place was out of the way, but close enough to the docks that if she ended up needing to use the gems, she could make a break for it easily enough, or hide again.

Hopefully she wouldn’t need to use the gems. The idea behind an elemental bearing her through the ground back here did not sound appealing. Useful, but not appealing. She’d seen Glauric do it once, after a fashion, but if she recalled correctly, he’d also had to claw his way out of the ground. Better having to do that than be dead, she supposed.

Leah looked out from the corner of the buildings she hid behind, eyeing the hills just west of town. If she could make it there, it would be the perfect place to hide out until dusk. She held onto her pack’s straps, walking quietly to the far corner of the building where she peeked her head out again. There were only a few trees for cover between here and the hills. Leah turned her eyes towards the docks. She spotted some orcs, but she couldn’t tell if it was the ones that had followed her out of the tavern. A distraction. She looked around, her eyes falling on a stack of crates near the end of the dock, close to where the orcs were. They were obviously the goods that had been unloaded from the ship she’d arrived on.

She closed her eyes for a moment, reaching out to Air. One good gust of wind could easily topple those crates into the water, hopefully causing enough of a stir near the docks that she could exit the town without much notice. Leah asked Air for that favor, and after a moment, she felt the Air stir. A gust of wind danced through the center of the town, racing towards the docks, where it collided with the crates and did as Leah had asked. The crates fell into the water, and the goblins who had been checking through them for inventory cried out, yelling about their merchandise. All eyes turned that direction, leaving the way open for Leah. There wasn’t any time to waste.

Moving as quick as she could without simply running, Leah made for the hills. She reached them without incident, moving further in, away from the road and out of sight of Ratchet. After finding a suitable spot, she pushed into a hillside, commanding the Earth to form a small hollow, big enough for her to take shelter in while she waited for the day to pass.

And pass it did, though slowly. She kept her mind occupied by going through her journal, rereading her accounts of visions she'd had, summaries of her lessons with Glauric, and memories from encounters she'd had with people that struck her as important. She did her best to avoid lingering on the memories, not wanting to get distracted by currently unimportant feelings, hard though it was with all that had happened in the past week. Stay focused. Eventually, Leah drifted off, and dreamed her mother was standing before her, pointing behind Leah and saying something, but Leah couldn’t make out what it was. She woke up with a start, wincing at how stiff her body was from sleeping in a cramped sitting position.

The sky was rapidly darkening, the sun having likely gone down just a short time before. It was time to get moving. Leah pulled her axe out of her pack and hooked it to her belt; she hadn’t had it out in town to avoid any violence, but now, in the dark, in a strange and hostile land, she wanted it where she could easily grab it.

She made her way through the hills, a bit closer to Ratchet than she would have liked, but she needed to get back to the water. It was a relief when she finally reached the shore. Glauric had instructed her to find a boat for this, but that would mean going back into town and risking being caught. So she simply reached out to water, and it allowed her to step out onto it as if it were solid ground. Leah turned her eyes north, remembering from the map she’d purchased that it wasn’t too far away from town where the river met the bay.

And she walked. The distance she needed to travel ended up being a bit farther than she’d originally thought, but she reached the mouth of the river without any problems. The hem of her travelling clothes was soaked by the time she reached her destination, but it didn’t put a damper on her mood, if anything she was excited to be here. Hopefully she’d get another piece of this once daunting puzzle.

Leah stood in the middle of the mouth of the river, feeling the current beneath her feet. She closed her eyes, focusing, reaching out to make a connection. Glauric had said before that having a relationship with an element was silly. The water you formed the bond with won’t be the same as the water on the other side of the world. She had acknowledged what he had said, but she hadn’t really realized he was right. In a manner of speaking. The water here still responded to her, but it was cautious, not as trusting and willing as she was used to. Leah conveyed to it that she was searching for information, seeking an orc that used a whip to hurt and not to work. There was a long hesitation, and then a flood of information came to Leah.

Cruel, vicious. Black eyes. Nakrath! Women, children and slaves, the whip strikes them! We do not trust him!

A cacophony of thoughts entered her mind, the collective answer from the river. And then, when the myriad of thoughts stopped, a picture of a face surfaced. Jade skin, black eyes, a scar on his left cheek. This was who she could only assume was Nakrath. The hairstyle of this orc, a matted strip down the center of his skull, fit with what she had seen two times before; first during her ritual at the river, and second at the Jinyu village. This was the orc that had stolen her mother’s life. She felt a lump form in her throat, overwhelmed and angry. Leah thanked the water profusely and opened her eyes. Another confirmation. She could hardly believe it. And she was nearly done with what she had set out to do here; one more stop and she could return to the hills above Ratchet until the ship came back into port.

Leah looked to the ground on the east side of the river; it was steep, a small mountain range, but it would work. She just needed a connection to the earth in Durotar. So she moved a few feet to her right, her feet coming into contact with land again. Leah leaned forward, pressing her hands to the wall of dirt and stone before her. She exhaled, reaching out. The Earth was resistant, as Glauric had predicted. Leah frowned, closing her eyes. Earth was not her favored element, not even her second choice, but she had learned a thing or two since her mother had taught her the basics. She pushed, commanding the Earth to respond to her, demanding it. Leah could feel it resisting; she didn’t let up, it was close to giving in to her. And then, she felt it break a little, and so she asked about the whip.

Earth responded immediately.

There are many whips. Tools to make the kodo move. Make the slave work harder. Only one here uses the whip to kill. He speaks with us, he has respect.

The Earth fell silent, but Leah knew it was holding out and so she exerted her will again, stronger.

There is a camp near the town where five pillars rise from the ground like a hand reaching for the sky. He comes often. Goes often.

Leah felt Earth pull away and so she opened her eyes, removing her hands from the ground. She looked down at them, noting that they were shaking. A camp nearby? Glauric’s words of not chasing after the orc alone echoed in her head, but she struggled to listen to them. It was so close! She’d felt a vague location as Earth had spoken to her, she could easily reach it before dawn, and then be gone again. Leah needed to know what she was up against, she wouldn’t even engage, just scout. She nodded once. Leaving now would be almost painful, she would do this.

And so she set off up the river, as she assumed it would be faster than trying to climb the mountains to her right. She jogged for short bursts, not knowing exactly how far up river she had to go before she would reach flat ground; and it was good that she did, because she had been travelling for almost three hours before the wall of stone finally ended, opening up on a small marsh of sorts. In the distance she could see a campfire, and beyond that, what appeared to be torches on top of a wall. Exactly as Earth had said. It was too dark for her to see any stone pillars, but she moved in that direction anyways, moving more cautiously now. Part of her knew this was probably stupid, but she couldn’t let this go, not without actually laying eyes on this Nakrath. It took her another half an hour before she was about fifty yards outside of the camp.

She knelt behind a bush, peering into the darkness, trying to see if she could make out any figures near the fire. Leah started to stand a little, squinting. Something very hard hit the back of her head once, knocking her forward. Stars dotted her vision as she lay on her stomach, trying to get up to defend herself, but she was hit again and everything went black.

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Leah wasn’t sure what brought her to consciousness first, the throbbing of her head or the smell of rotting meat. She groaned, cracking an eye open, but it only intensified the throbbing, which induced heaving. Instinctively, she reached out to Water, seeking to draw some to her to begin healing her. There was some nearby that responded to her call, infusing her body with rejuvenative powers, but after a moment it felt as though it was being pulled away from her, and she did not have the strength to pull back. But it had been enough healing to dull the throbbing in her head to a tolerable level.

She cracked her eyes open again, wincing. Her arms were bound behind her, wrapped around a pole, and she could see her pack propped against a nearby stone pillar, atop of which was her gorget and sapphire necklace. Leah turned her head a little, trying to see if there was anyone close by, but no one was within eye shot of her. She pulled against the ropes, gasping as a sharp pain flared in her chest. Broken rib? Some low voices murmured behind her, sending a shiver up her spine. Orcs? They certainly weren’t speaking in common. Leah reached out to all of the elements, all but begging for aid. They felt very distant, almost blocked from her reach.

Leah opened her mouth to speak, her lips cracked with what felt like dry blood on them. “P.. please..” Her voice was raspy, but she could hear footsteps. An orc came into view, scrawnier than most that she had seen; he must have been young? She focused her gaze on him as he sneered at her.

“Nog kant recar.” He said, squatting to be at her eye level.

She shook her head, “I don’..” She winced as she drew in breath, “I don’ understand. Please. Let me go, I mean no harm.”

The orc continued to sneer at her, “Ket gen vraak bolar.” He took a step forward and groped at her for a moment before another orc came into view, smacking the side of his head. They argued for a moment, but eventually both left without another word to Leah. Neither looked like what she had seen Nakrath to appear like in her visions; the second orc wore a bone necklace and had dreadlocks that hung around his face.

As they left, Leah choked out a sob, but hissed in pain immediately. She reached for Water again, but it did not come to her. Leah glanced up to the sky, noting that the sun had already passed the midday mark. Her head began to throb again, gaining in intensity. She closed her eyes and passed out.

It was dark when Leah woke again, firelight dancing behind her, casting her shadow on the stone pillar before her. She could hear someone snoring. After turning her head carefully from side to side so as not to agitate any of her injuries further, she heard some shuffling, like someone standing. The handsy orc from earlier came into view, eyeing her like a piece of meat. Leah glared at him as best she could with her swollen face, “Feckin’ try it, pig.” She tried to spit at him, but her mouth was too dry.

The orc laughed at her, taking a step forward. He reached out and brushed some of the hair out of her eyes, a gesture that reminded her of Ent. She tried to pull away from him, but it only sent waves of sharp pain through her body. He laughed again and smacked her across the face, causing a burst of light to flash in her eyes as the pain overwhelmed her and threw her back into unconsciousness.

When Leah woke the third time, the sun appeared to be setting. She was vaguely aware of the fact that the ship meant to bear her back to Menethil harbor would be arriving back at Ratchet on the next morning. -If- she hadn’t lost a day or two somewhere in her reckoning since her capture. The orc who wore the bone necklace was squatting in front of her pack, examining her axe. He glanced at her and held it up, “Throm kosh?”

Leah stared at him, to weak to try and respond. Her whole body ached, and she suspected she hadn’t been given much water over the past two days. This was where she was going to die. Never to grow old and grey like in her vision.

The orc narrowed his eyes at her, but it wasn’t a glare, more of an appraising look. He stood and walked behind her, and with her own axe cut the bindings that had held her in place. She collapsed to the ground, groaning in pain as blood was able to flow through her arms again uninhibited. He hushed her harshly, coming around in front of her again, gesturing with the axe, “Sha.. mon?”

She peered up at him, confused, but nodded a few times. He huffed, walking a few steps away from her with his back turned. Leah looked towards her pack, the gorget and necklace not on top of it anymore, likely gone. She gritted her teeth, and while the orc had his back to her, she gathered what little strength she had and lunged for the bag, while simultaneously reaching for the gems sewn into the waist of her pants. She had been able to feel them the whole time she’d been tied up, but hadn’t been able to reach them until now.

As soon as she activated the first gem, she was dragged unground by the bound elemental in the gem. Leah clung to her pack as she was transported through the ground. But she did not get very far before the orc cried out in alarm, and she could feel herself slow down considerably. He must have been a shaman as well! Glauric had said to not use these against another shaman, but what choice did she have. She reached out to the elemental, forcing it onward as she struggled to maintain consciousness through the unorthodox way of traveling. It didn’t take long for her to feel the other shaman’s grasp on the elemental fade; she was far enough away now.

When she surfaced, the first gem spent, she found herself back near the river that led to the bay. Gritting her teeth, Leah activated the second gem and was again pulled underground and transported roughly for another half-mile. It wasn’t very far, but it was less distance for her to walk. Leah’s body protested the form of travel, but she had no choice. She activated the third gem. As she slowed this time, certain she would be shoved up to the surface again, Leah found that the elemental didn’t quite have the strength to get her out of the ground. She was buried, clutching her pack and barely hanging on to consciousness, and she was very aware that she could not breathe.

Leah struggled against the dirt around her, trying to claw her way to the surface. She tried to take a breath, but got a mouthful of dirt instead. Panic threatened to overwhelm her, but she was able to focus long enough to force the Earth to bring her to the surface, to release her from this unintended grave.

She hacked as she came up to the air, lying half in, half out of the ground, one arm wrapped tightly around her pack. The world faded from her view.

After what she assumed was hours later, Leah awoke. She pulled herself the rest of the way out of the ground, amazed that a patrol or an animal hadn’t found her and finished her off. Grimacing, she dug through her pack, happy to see that both the gorget and her necklace had been shoved inside at some point, but what she was really searching for was one of her water flasks. Her hand found one, and she shakily opened it and lifted it to her lips. She coughed on the first mouthful, but was able to get a few good swallows before she lied back on the ground, just breathing. Her clothes were in tatters, her body covered in bruises and cuts, but she was alive. She owed Glauric her life.

Leah forced herself to sit up, and she used the remaining water in her flask to tend to what she felt were her most serious injuries. All she wanted to do was sleep, but she knew if she wanted to survive and make it back home, she had to get up and keep moving. She could smell the ocean and hear it, so it couldn’t be too far away, but she was nowhere near the river anymore. The elementals had taken her in the most direct path to where she had set her return location, even if they hadn’t been able to get her all the way there. Leah shoved everything back into her pack and got up. Her body was still stiff and incredibly sore, but she was able to walk. And so she did.

Hours passed as Leah trudged on through the darkness. Eventually she found the ocean. She reached to Water and it responded, allowing her to walk on it the remainder of the way to Ratchet. Lucky for her, when she arrived, the sky was just beginning to lighten with signs of dawn. The town was quiet, and Leah didn’t notice any guards about as she climbed onto the docks, not that she would have cared anyways.

She struggled to keep herself on her feet, wanting to just lie down and rest, but this was not the place. Leah looked around, and to her surprise, she saw the very ship she was supposed to travel home on. With a whimper of relief, Leah limped to the ship, stumbling through the lower deck until she reached the room where she’d stayed on her journey here. She climbed into bed, hugging her pack, and immediately fell asleep.

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Leah had very few memories of her return journey, flashes of faces, of memories. She didn’t even remember as she was put into Marcail’s saddle, her legs tied onto it. And she didn’t remember arriving back at her room in Ironforge.

Aela’s face was the first thing she could really remember after arriving back on the ship that last morning. The older woman was sitting beside her bed, bent over her sewing. She cried out in relief as Leah sat up confused, and just held her as Leah cried.

[itsbenedict]

I believe there's actually a licensed manga spin-off with a purple truth game, but I don't know if it's been translated or not. Forgery Of The Purple Logic?

i’ve heard of it! afaik it’s not translated, though, which is a shame.

[anime-to-the-t]

[manga-online]

[くろい] うみねこのなく頃に 紫 Forgery of the Purple logic 第02巻

[くろい] うみねこのなく頃に 紫 Forgery of the Purple logic 第02巻

作品内容: 竜騎士０７原案のトリックにて「うみねこのなく頃に」が、まったく新しいミステリーとして登場。新たな手がかり「紫の発言」を集めて、証言の矛盾を打ち崩せ！

[thebibliomancer]

Essential Avengers: Avengers #109: The Measure of a Man!

March, 1973

That feels like an unnecessary waste of a perfectly good imported bow and it seems Lil Vision agrees with me.

Also, Captain America isn’t in this issue. This cover is a liiiiiiiiiiiiiiiie.

So last time: The only pertinent information is that Vision learned a thing about emotions and brothers and empathy and offered Scarlet Witch a shoulder to cry on.

This time: Hawkeye is gonna ragequit the team. Its the first time and it will not be the last time. At least he put on some pants first..

So we start off with Hawkeye practicing his moves in the Avengers’ Not-Danger-Room. He’s going so fast there seems to be three of him. He could practically be an anime with speed like that.

Anyway, he’s trying to distract himself from Vision and Scarlet Witch hooking up and its just not working.

Thor is kind of watching this whole practice session. He didn’t think that Hawkeye was really so hung up on Scarlet Wanda. He thought it was just machismo. Y’know. Because she was the one girl on the team. Thor just hopes that internal dissension doesn’t succeed in tearing apart the Avengers where external foes have failed.

MEANWHILE, THE PLOT. The plot arrives riding a limo through an airport and driving onto the runway to catch a plane.

Literally catch a plane.

Because the man riding the limo is Imus Champion. And at nine feet tall apparently he can just grab a plane by the wheel and prevent it from taking off.

It’s not the dumbest thing I’ve seen in comics.

Anyway. Normally this is where someone would get in trouble for driving a limo onto the runway and preventing a plane from taking off.  But Champion owns the whole dang airline so what are the police going to do?

Something, probably. But this is comics.

It is now later and back at Avengers Mansion.

Scarlet Witch is over the moon with her and Vision’s new rapport. She has nothing but good things to say about him. Why if she hadn’t been leaning on him while Pietro has been missing, she probably would have been driven to the funny farm. Man. Vision. What a guy.

A bemused Iron Man asks if she’s going to keep calling him Vision? Not much of a pet name. She suggested he adopt the name ‘Simon’ but Vision refused. His brain may be based on the brainwaves but he is not Simon Williams. Vision is the only name he has.

Or Vision Vision if the Vision solo is to be trusted.

Iron Man is still bemused. Vision had thought himself incapable of feeling feelings just a few days ago. Remember? In issue #105? With Lorelei and the Beast Brood?

But apparently Vision and Wanda have been discussing that and they think they figured it out. Obviously Lorelei’s hypnotic effect is carried on her song which is meant to be heard by human ears. But Vision has audial receptors instead of ears! COMPLETELY DIFFERENT!

So Vision is finally over his angst over not being brainwashed. Huzzah!

Iron Man decides to leave the two of them alone but secretly wishes them luck. He foresees bad things once society gets wind of this relationship. Society is jerks.

And then Hawkeye decides to rain on the parade because he’s bitter. He accuses Wanda of forgetting her brother Pietro completely.

Vision says that Hawkeye is out of line. They’ve been doing everything they can to find Pietro. And Wanda has been doing more than anyone else. She doesn’t have to get performative about it. She doesn’t have to stalk the halls weeping.

So Hawkeye slams his door shut and decides to run away from home. He’s being such a teenager.

And he’s going back to basics. Back to his pre-Goliath purple costume.

So sitting on the roof, Hawkeye mopes. Because with Vision and Wanda happy, there’s a mope deficiency in the book.

Hawkeye doesn’t even think he was in love with Wanda.

“--but it’s so freakin hard to lose again! I got kissed off by the Black Widow three times -- first to the commies, then SHIELD, and now Daredevil... Witchie won’t give me a tumble... I mean, what’s wrong with me? I’ve got looks, I’m fun to talk to... why can’t I get it on??”

This particular sentiment is not a good look on you Hawkeye. At least he doesn’t try to claim that girls only go for jerks because he’s being quite a jerk recently.

He decides to go to Central Park and try to get mugged because that way he can feel wanted (smallest violin in the world) and presumably also punch those muggers. Good way to work out frustration while also doing a public service, I guess.

But he gets interrupted by... CHAMPION.

Who Hawkeye has heard of. Since the guy is one of the 47 richest men in the world and apparently made his wad honestly.

See, Champion wants to offer Hawkeye employment. 

Hawkeye says Avengers aren’t for hire and that Champion should try ‘that Cage dude’ (sharrrrrrred universe!) but Champion wants the world’s greatest archer and he’ll pay one million dollars to Hawkeye’s favorite charity if he’ll teach him archery.

And y’know, why not? A distracting challenge is about what Hawkeye needs right now. So without so much as a goodbye, Hawkeye leaves with Champion.

On the plane ride to California, Hawkeye says Champion did him a favor by taking him away from New York.

Champion says that’s his luck. He has a gift for being in the right place at the right time. And then he gets a little intense. He also has a drive to turn out better than all the people who laughed at him over the years and a drive to live when doctors claimed that normal human muscles couldn’t support a body as large as his.

Bit of a red flag but Hawkeye isn’t particularly suspicious at this strange man offering him a lot of money.

So Champion takes Hawkeye to his retreat on the California coast. It has all the conveniences. Except telephones. Champion is a champion at retreating. And he doesn’t want his archery training sessions disturbed.

Archery is the only sport he never learned, after all.

He asks Hawkeye if he wants to write to the Avengers and assure them that he’s well but Hawkeye decides it will do them good to lose sleep over him.

Because, as mentioned, Hawkeye is acting like a teenager.

But since it would interfere with Champion’s mysterious but no doubt sinister schemes if the Avengers come around looking for Hawkeye, Champion forges a letter from Hawkeye to send to the Avengers.

For forgery is among the skills he has learned.

He also calls Hawkeye an ‘obstreperous dupe’ in his thoughts. I had to look that up. ‘Obstreperous’ apparently means ‘noisy and difficult to control.’ And yup. That’s Hawkeye. To a T.

So we have a montage of Hawkeye teaching Champion to archery. Calendar pages flying by and everything.

Finally, Champion manages to shoot three bullseyes in the same spot, splitting the first two arrows. And Hawkeye concludes that he has nothing further to teach Champion.

But that night, Hawkeye muses what to do next. He does feel like he belongs with the Avengers, especially with Quicksilver missing...

But he spots something weird and goes to investigate. And what he sees is... something very unique.

Champion has dressed up like Zardoz. Or, I guess, the Martian Manhunter? Hawkeye is confused. He was teaching Champion archery. Not how to dress weird.

But Champion’s response is very telling. “Costumes are for those who are masters of their art, and want the world to know it.”

Shine on, you wacky diamond.

Anyway, now that he has learned archery, Champion has finally become a master of all fields. He is better than anyone, at anything.

Sounds dubious but lets go with it. At the very least, becoming good at everything is impressive.

Eleven point four miles off the coast, there’s a sunken vessel that was carrying a top-secret nerve gas. Champion wants that gas but the sunken ship is in American waters. The coast guard would be all over his ass if he tried to recover it.

So clearly the solution is to put the boat into international waters in the most dramatic way ‘in keeping with my stature.’

He’s gonna trigger the San Andreas fault and drop California into the sea. As ya do.

That would kill untold numbers of people, Hawkeye protests! Meh, Champion isn’t concerned about people. All that matters is that it will create enough confusion and move the coast away from his prize.

Hawkeye points his bow at Champion and tells him its over. And also banters that what really matters is whether they make padded cells in giant economy size.

And then Champion shoots Hawkeye’s bow. See, his silly costume conceals a lot of surprises. Like Zzak!ing lasers.

And now Champion is shooting at the unarmed Hawkeye with a bow of his own.

So with the situation a bit untenable, Hawkeye jumps out the window.

ELSEWHERE and maybe when, Wanda wakes up and realizes something. That forged letter the Avengers received. It was signed ‘Hawkeye’ instead of ‘Clint.’ And apparently since revealing that he had a real name, he has been using ‘Clint’ for friendly correspondence with the Avengers. Or at least established a pattern where its weird that he would sign a letter ‘Hawkeye.’

Meanwhile, Hawkeye plummeted into the ocean. Kind of blacked out from the impact but he comes to and climbs up the cliff.

Unfortunately, Champion and a bunch of mooks are waiting for him. And Champion knocks Hawkeye the fuck out.

Hawkeye comes to fifty minutes later tied to a bomb in the middle of the Mojave Desert.

Just one of a series of bombs carefully located along the length of the San Andreas fault in the area. And when Hawkeye’s bomb is set off, it will trigger the other bombs.

And because Champion is a dramatic SOB, just pressing a button won’t have enough of a sense of personal satisfaction or accomplishment. No sir. Not for his archery teacher.

No, clearly the only logical way to set off the bomb is shooting it with the archery skills that Hawkeye taught him.

Its a situation ripe with irony, man.

Oh, speak of the devil! Its Iron Man! Also the rest of the Avengers.

They interrupt the archery demonstration and start beating up the faceless mooks.

Now this is embarrassing. A huge relief but also embarrassing. Because when you run off to make your friends/parents worry about you, the last thing you want is for them to find you in a situation where you need their help.

He calls asking for Thor to untie him so he can join in the fight but Thor can’t hear him over how hard he’s trying to hammer Champion.

Unfortunately, Champion anticipated that he might have to fight the Avengers. Remember how his silly costume is packed with surprises? It includes a null-energy force field (whatever that means) that can repel Mjolnir and Iron Man’s repulsors. Some more irony, man.

The counterattack, knocks Iron Man out of the air. Meanwhile, T’Challa is beating up mooks with the greatest of ease but gets sneak-attacked from behind and knocked out. And Thor gets blinded by another mook after taking out a bunch. And Scarlet Witch too.

To summarize, the Avengers are pretty distracted right now. Which is the moment Champion was waiting for.

Vision unties Hawkeye from the bomb just as Champion is drawing a bead on it. None of the Avengers can touch Champion through his force field so this is up to Hawkeye, somehow.

I mean, I guess Vision could blow the arrow with his body. He’s good at blocking attacks by jumping in front of them.

But Hawkeye says he has this one. Champion left Hawkeye’s bow in front of the bomb. I guess to be a dick. Tied up it would have been in sight but out of reach. And even if he could reach it, the string was snapped. But Hawkeye always carries a spare.

So before Champion can release his arrow, Hawkeye restrings his bow and fires an arrow from fifty yards, snapping Champion’s bowstring. Champion’s arrow goes off course.

I guess it just goes to show. There’s always someone better.

And then before he can regroup, Thor knocks the ground out from under Champion’s feet and Hawkeye hits him with a knockout gas arrow.

Because here is the thing about force fields. They tend to let air in. And if they don’t, if you keep up an attack long enough, the person will suffocate.

Between Iron Man’s technical knowledge and Vision’s intangibility, the Avengers are going to dismantle the bombs easily. That’s the aftermath addressed.

Thor praises Hawkeye’s markmanship. He’s never seen such a shot.

“Yeah -- ne’er will they again, either.” Because Hawkeye has had his fill being poor, old Hawkeye, the stupid Avenger.

He feels that he is good but he never really has a chance to show it in the middle of the Avengers what with all their gods and guys in walking tanks. He’s going to prove he can make it on his own! Cross his name off the roster because Hawkeye is going solo!

And starting a beautiful tradition of quitting the team. In some ways, he just hasn’t been Hawkeye until now~

But there is a doylistic reason. If you pay attention to changes in creative team you can usually pick up on these things, in-book shakeups that happen shortly after production shakeups.

Steve Englehart did not like Hawkeye. He was quoted as saying “Hawkeye was never real good or real bad or real interesting.”

Five issues into Englehart’s run and Hawkeye is out. At the least though, his departure got a focus story.

He’ll be back though. If there’s anything is dependable as Hawkeye quitting the Avengers, it is Hawkeye rejoining the Avengers.

So how about the villain de jour? Imus Champion is a really cool villain. He’s everything that Count Nefaria never was in his first appearance.

He’s a physical presence on his own, good at pretty much every skill, has access to powerful technology, and is decently intelligence. He did make his fortune legitimately before he decided to conquer the world because screw you everyone who ever laughed at him.

Plus, he’s a natural born supervillain! Who else but a natural supervillain would decide that creating a natural disaster is the perfect first step of a heist?

And he made an amazingly ridiculous first impression with that plane thing.

It really is a shame he never became a recurring Avengers threat. It seems that after this, he just disappears until the 90s. Kurt Busiek gets some good use out of him at that point but he was off the board for two decades.

Champion could have been a great addition to the Avengers’ rogues gallery. I can see this guy recruiting other supervillains and doing schemes. Its hard to imagine him doing much of anything else.

It really is a waste that he wasn’t used more often.

And much worse villains get much more panel time. Like, for example, Count Nefaria.

Maybe it was the costume he chose.