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wisteria-lodge · 5 years

Text

Highlighting important Holmes & Watson character beats (1/10)

I got an interesting question the other day, about the moments in the original Sherlock Holmes stories that are more about *character development* and *relationship building* than mystery solving. And honestly, it’s a cool exercise, reading the Conan Doyle stories and watching this one complex little relationship grow.

So here you go. For your reading pleasure: Holmes & Watson, the good stuff

~ A STUDY IN SCARLET ~

[Dr. John Watson is back from the war, his PTSD and $$ situation not looking so good. Watson’s old intern Stamford thinks he’s found him a roommate]

“We came here on business,” said Stamford, sitting down on a high three-legged stool, and pushing another one in my direction with his foot. “My friend here wants to take diggings, and as you were complaining that you could get no one to go halves with you, I thought that I had better bring you together.”

Sherlock Holmes seemed delighted at the idea of sharing his rooms with me. “I have my eye on a suite in Baker Street,” he said, “which would suit us down to the ground. You don’t mind the smell of strong tobacco, I hope?”

“I always smoke ‘ship’s’ myself,” I answered.

“That’s good enough. I generally have chemicals about, and occasionally do experiments. Would that annoy you?”

“By no means.”

“Let me see—what are my other shortcomings. I get in the dumps at times, and don’t open my mouth for days on end. You must not think I am sulky when I do that. Just let me alone, and I’ll soon be right. What have you to confess now? It’s just as well for two fellows to know the worst of one another before they begin to live together.”

I laughed at this cross-examination. “I keep a bull pup,” I said, “and I object to rows because my nerves are shaken, and I get up at all sorts of ungodly hours, and I am extremely lazy. I have another set of vices when I’m well, but those are the principal ones at present.”

“Do you include violin-playing in your category of rows?” he asked, anxiously.

“It depends on the player,” I answered. “A well-played violin is a treat for the gods—a badly-played one—”

“Oh, that’s all right,” he cried, with a merry laugh. “I think we may consider the thing as settled.”

The reader may set me down as a hopeless busybody, when I confess how much this man stimulated my curiosity, and how often I endeavored to break through the reticence which he showed on all that concerned himself. Before pronouncing judgment, however, be it remembered, how objectless was my life, and how little there was to engage my attention. My health forbade me from venturing out unless the weather was exceptionally genial, and I had no friends who would call upon me and break the monotony of my daily existence. Under these circumstances, I eagerly hailed the little mystery which hung around my companion, and spent much of my time in endeavoring to unravel it.

I see that I have alluded above to his powers upon the violin. These were very remarkable, but as eccentric as all his other accomplishments. That he could play pieces, and difficult pieces, I knew well, because at my request he has played me some of Mendelssohn’s Lieder, and other favorites. When left to himself, however, he would seldom produce any music or attempt any recognized air. Leaning back in his arm-chair of an evening, he would close his eyes and scrape carelessly at the fiddle (...) Sometimes the chords were sonorous and melancholy. Occasionally they were fantastic and cheerful. Clearly they reflected the thoughts which possessed him, but whether the music aided those thoughts, or whether the playing was simply the result of a whim or fancy was more than I could determine. I might have rebelled against these exasperating solos had it not been that he usually terminated them by playing in quick succession a whole series of my favorite airs as a slight compensation for the trial upon my patience.

[Holmes is a detective, Holmes shows off]

“[Your deduction] is simple enough as you explain it,” I said, smiling. “You remind me of Edgar Allen Poe’s Dupin. I had no idea that such individuals did exist outside of stories.”

Sherlock Holmes rose and lit his pipe. “No doubt you think that you are complimenting me in comparing me to Dupin,” he observed. “Now, in my opinion, Dupin was an inferior fellow (...) really very showy and superficial. He had some analytical genius, no doubt; but he was by no means such a phenomenon as Poe appeared to imagine.”

“Have you read Gaboriau’s works?” I asked. “Does Lecoq come up to your idea of a detective?”

Sherlock Holmes sniffed sardonically. “Lecoq was a miserable bungler,” he said (...) “he had only one thing to recommend him, and that was his energy. That book made me positively ill. The question was how to identify an unknown prisoner. I could have done it in twenty-four hours. Lecoq took six months or so. It might be made a text-book for detectives to teach them what to avoid.”

I felt rather indignant at having two characters whom I had admired treated in this cavalier style. I walked over to the window, and stood looking out into the busy street. “This fellow may be very clever,” I said to myself, “but he is certainly very conceited.”

[Watson tags along, having “nothing better to do.”]

“You sum up the difficulties of the [case] succinctly and well,” [Holmes] said. “There is much that is still obscure, though I have quite made up my mind on the main facts. (...) I’m not going to tell you much more of the case, Doctor. You know a conjuror gets no credit when once he has explained his trick, and if I show you too much of my method of working, you will come to the conclusion that I am a very ordinary individual after all.”

“I shall never do that,” I answered; “you have brought detection as near an exact science as it ever will be brought in this world.”

My companion flushed up with pleasure at my words, and the earnest way in which I uttered them. I had already observed that he was as sensitive to flattery on the score of his art as any girl could be of her beauty.

[Holmes explains]

“You see the whole thing is a chain of logical sequences without a break or flaw.”

“It is wonderful!” I cried. “Your merits should be publicly recognized. You should publish an account of the case. If you won’t, I will for you.”

“You may do what you like, Doctor,” he answered.

~ THE SPECKLED BAND ~

It was early in April in the year ‘83 that I woke one morning to find Sherlock Holmes standing, fully dressed, by the side of my bed. He was a late riser, as a rule, and as the clock on the mantelpiece showed me that it was only a quarter-past seven, I blinked up at him in some surprise, and perhaps just a little resentment, for I was myself regular in my habits.

“Very sorry to knock you up, Watson,” said he, “but it’s the common lot this morning. Mrs. Hudson has been knocked up, she retorted upon me, and I on you.”

“What is it, then—a fire?”

“No; a client. It seems that a young lady has arrived in a considerable state of excitement, who insists upon seeing me. She is waiting now in the sitting-room. Now, when young ladies wander about the metropolis at this hour of the morning, and knock sleepy people up out of their beds, I presume that it is something very pressing which they have to communicate. Should it prove to be an interesting case, you would, I am sure, wish to follow it from the outset. I thought, at any rate, that I should call you and give you the chance.”

“My dear fellow, I would not miss it for anything.”

[waiting in the dark for the bad guy to enter]

“The least sound would be fatal to our plans.”

I nodded to show that I had heard.

“We must sit without light. He would see it through the ventilator.”

I nodded again. (...)

“Have your pistol ready in case we should need it. I will sit on the side of the bed, and you in that chair.”

I took out my revolver and laid it on the corner of the table.

Holmes had brought up a long thin cane, and this he placed upon the bed beside him.

[all is revealed]

The little which I had yet to learn of the case was told me by Sherlock Holmes as we travelled back next day.

“I had,” said he, “come to an entirely erroneous conclusion which shows, my dear Watson, how dangerous it always is to reason from insufficient data.”

~ THE RESIDENT PATIENT ~

It had been a close, rainy day in October. “Unhealthy weather, Watson,” said my friend. “But the evening has brought a breeze with it. What do you say to a ramble though London?”

I was weary of our little sitting room and gladly acquiesced. For three hours we strolled about together, watching the ever-changing kaleidoscope of life (...) Holmes’ characteristic talk, with its keen observance of detail and subtle power of inference, held me amused and enthralled.

[this time, their client is a doctor]

“Are you not the author of a monograph upon obscure nervous lesions?” I asked.

[Dr. Trevelyan’s] pale cheeks flushed with pleasure at hearing that his work was known to me.

“I so seldom hear of the work that I thought it was quite dead,” said he. “My publishers gave me a most discouraging account of its sale. You are yourself, I presume, a medical man?”

~ THE NOBLE BACHELOR ~

I had remained indoors all day, for the weather had taken a sudden turn to rain, with high autumnal winds, and the Jezail bullet which I had brought back in one of my limbs as a relic of my Afghan campaign throbbed with dull persistence. With my body in one easy-chair and my legs upon another, I had surrounded myself with a cloud of newspapers until at last, saturated with the news of the day, I tossed them all aside and lay listless, watching the huge crest and monogram upon the envelope upon the table and wondering lazily who my friend’s noble correspondent could be.

“Here is a very fashionable epistle,” I remarked as he entered. “Your morning letters, if I remember right, were from a fish-monger and a tide-waiter.”

“Yes, my correspondence has certainly the charm of variety,” he answered, smiling, “and the humbler are usually the more interesting. This looks like one of those unwelcome social summonses which call upon a man either to be bored or to lie.”

[their new client is extremely posh]

“Good-day, Lord St. Simon,” said Holmes, rising and bowing. “Pray take the basket-chair. This is my friend and colleague, Dr. Watson. Draw up a little to the fire, and we will talk this matter over.”

“A most painful matter to me, as you can most readily imagine, Mr. Holmes. I have been cut to the quick. I understand that you have already managed several delicate cases of this sort, sir, though I presume that they were hardly from the same class of society.”

“No, I am descending.”

“I beg pardon.”

“My last client of the sort was a king.”

[everything turns out well]

“Draw your chair up and hand me my violin, for the only problem we have still to solve is how to while away these bleak autumnal evenings.”

~ THE REGIATE SQUIRES ~

On referring to my notes, I see that it was upon the 14th of April that I received a telegram from Lyons which informed me that Holmes was lying ill in the Hotel Dulong. Within twenty-four hours I was in his sick-room, and was relieved to find that there was nothing formidable in his symptoms. Even his iron constitution, however, had broken down under the strain of an investigation which had extended over two months, during which period he had never worked less than fifteen hours a day, and had more than once, as he assured me, kept to his task for five days at a stretch.

Even the triumphant issue of his labors could not save him from reaction after so terrible an exertion, and at a time when Europe was ringing with his name and when his room was literally ankle-deep with congratulatory telegrams I found him a prey to the blackest depression. Even the knowledge that he had succeeded where the police of three countries had failed, and that he had outmaneuvered at every point the most accomplished swindler in Europe, was insufficient to rouse him from his nervous prostration.

Three days later we were back in Baker Street together; but it was evident that my friend would be much the better for a change, and the thought of a week of spring time in the country was full of attractions to me also. My old friend, Colonel Hayter, who had come under my professional care in Afghanistan, had now taken a house near Reigate in Surrey, and had frequently asked me to come down to him upon a visit. On the last occasion he had remarked that if my friend would only come with me he would be glad to extend his hospitality to him also. A little diplomacy was needed, but... [Holmes] fell in with my plans (...)

On the evening of our arrival we were sitting in the Colonel’s gun-room after dinner, Holmes stretched upon the sofa, while Hayter and I looked over his little armory of Eastern weapons.

[Colonel Hayter mentions some suspicious local burglaries]

Holmes grunted from the sofa. “The county police ought to make something of that,” said he; “why, it is surely obvious that—”

But I held up a warning finger.

“You are here for a rest, my dear fellow. For Heaven’s sake don’t get started on a new problem when your nerves are all in shreds.”

Holmes shrugged his shoulders with a glance of comic resignation towards the Colonel, and the talk drifted away into less dangerous channels. ~

[and thank you again @niche-pastiche for the excellent idea!]

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shidiand · 5 years

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How do you imagine Tenco's Story ending in your head?

that is a GREAT but UNEXPECTED QUESTION freshlybaked "spider" bread and i'm really happy to have the opportunity to try and answer this ageless question that has burned within all of us in the tenco's story iv waiting room community since 2013. it is an incredible coincidence (or is it? 👀) that i was just talking to Risa about tenco's this (edit: yesterday) morning so i am extra double super in the mood to talk about Tenco's Story today. so excellent of a coincidence is this that i am tempted to refer you to them in case you wanted to hear their thoughts on the matter that would probably turn out super cool, but that is neither here nor there; let us talk Tenco's Story.

i of course must mention my unadvertised and modestly detailed commentary on tenco's i-iii at https://shidiand.tumblr.com/tencos, presenting slightly interesting facts in an unwieldy and difficult-to-use format, but as it dates back to june 2017, i want to take some time to understand my feelings about the series once more.

tenco's story is a series that has a lot of meaning to me.

i took on my current name of shidiand in november of 2013. i was still in 11th grade at the time, 4th year of high school, and a very socially isolated person. i should say i was introduced to touhou in 7th grade, 2010, so i was still working through a 3 years-strong phase of trying to simultaneously both find an outlet for and bottle up an endless wellspring of awkward weeaboo-gamer nerd energy at the time.

i had my first real foray onto the internet in 2010, tried out twitter, followed some RPers and other people who had Cool Touhou Usernames. didn't really go anywhere. i had maybe 50 followers, i dont really know the count but it was definitely a) double digits and b) pretty low. didn't know what to tweet about. didn't know how to hit it off with others. i think there was basically maybe only 3 other people i ever properly interacted with. oh shit i was playing league of legends at the time. oh my god. i really did play league of .. oh my god. let's move on.

aw shit im super digressing amn't i. well.

this is just how it goes when i write essays on tumblr.com.

i'm afraid you're just along for the ride at this point so please do your best to enjoy it.

i got kind of tired of twitter at the time because i didnt know what to do with it. didnt know how to interact with people and didnt find the people i was following interesting, so i ghosted on out of there by the end of 2012. didnt deactivate it until like 2015 but at that point that was just burning away my dark history. anyways. november 2013.

--im taking a lot of time here trawling through old files on my computer, my tumblr blog, notification emails still lying around in my gmail inbox from twitter, the dropbox i didn't actually use but it had several tenco's story pictures on it but i deleted them so this was useless, ... to trace the timeline of this story and im really seeing a lot of remnants of dark history here you know? did you know i wrote a letter to a girl i had a crush on valentine's day 2014, slipped it into her locker, and anxiously hung around nearby at lunchtime to see how she reacted at lunchtime? i certainly didn't, or at least i made darn ass sure to forget about this incredible virgin incident and not remember it, ever, until i came across the records of it that i thoughtfully preserved for the me of 5 years later today. ok well now i have to read the letter to see if it was as bad as it just sounded there brb

ok so the good news is that it was actually very focused on being positive and full of admiration for the cool things she did instead of being a confession letter so i am very glad i was able to be a respectful chad 5 years ago, but the bad news is that the jokes, the actual sentences i put together. oh my god. but i mean. well. at least i got the spirit. its certainly a step up from this other person in my grade, WEEABOO ANDREW, YOU MAY RECALL THIS STORY AND HIS NAME FROM PREVIOUS STORYTIMES, THE MAN THE MYTH THE LEGEND who came to school on halloween once cosplaying kirito from sword art online and got very possessive about people asking if they could hold his black replica plastic sword, and probably worse, dropped a "will you be my girlfriend" letter into the locker of my homie and fellow trombonist samantha, who was a little bit nerdy, hung out with the anime-likers who were actually sociable and fun to be around so you can imagine why weeaboo andrew was into her, which had i) a direct quotation from SAO chapter 16.5 (origin of the famous "glopping noise" line), and ii) a condom. jesus christ. i dont want to talk about this any more. next topic.

i also put this drawing of iku nagae and her skarmory (actually an albinoss from 18 DRAGONS) on the other side of the letter because it was the coolest thing i could think of drawing at the time. and i completely agree with 2014 me because it IS super fucking cool. hell fuckin yeah

https://shidiand.tumblr.com/post/76301993387/iku-nagae-ft-that-thing-that-supposedly-is-a

alright that was a fun little trip down memory lane but lets get back on track. november 2013. i started anew as shidiand. still awkward, still learning how to express myself and looking for my place among others. i followed some touhou bloggers, hung around r/touhou a lot as well. in december i got my first tablet for christmas, a wacom bamboo splash. i still use this thing! the usb cable disconnects if you bump it so i have to find just the perfect position to sit in whenever i want to draw, but its served me well. anyways. i was just starting to play around with digital art but i remember, probably just before new years, for some reason i wanted to find out more about tenshi hinanawi (i don't remember why. tenshi wasn't even one of my favourite characters at the time) so i went googling and right there on zerochan i found this:

https://www.pixiv.net/member_illust.php?mode=medium&illust_id=23525572

this was during my dark souls phase so i just went BANANAS at the sight of this. this was literally the coolest image i had ever seen in my internet life. That image alone made me want to draw in hopes that I could make something as cool as that someday.

it wasn't immediately after but i soon discovered tenco's story, and it was love. kannnu was my very first artistic inspiration, and for a long time, my only one. i absolutely idolized them at the time. since then, ive found other artists to look up to, in a more healthy manner, but to this day i still look up to kannnu, still admire their work a lot.

i played around with drawing, followed the lives of people on tumblr, started reading touhou fanfiction, made a new twitter. i met a lot of new people along the way. some people i havent stuck with, some i cut ties with, and some people i still keep in contact with today. over those long 5 years of being shidiand, i found a name (i used to use shidian and then shid, but someone called me shidi once and i realized that was a lot better), how to reach out to others, how to express myself, places that i could feel included in. this is why i owe a blood debt to evelyn, who permitted me to kneel at her throne and was like "yea ok you can join my discord server u seem cool". evelyn, if you were confused by me ominously mentioning this blood debt/blood oath in a tumblr reply 1-2 years ago, this is the context. those 5 years were like a coming of age of sorts, that i never had when i was in high school.

and my love for tenco's story, that inspired me to draw that day, has been with me since almost the very beginning of my time as shidiand. from the beginning, i have always encouraged people to READ TENCO'S STORY, like the kin of those who cry PLAY MELTY or WATCH SYMPHOGEAR. i think my very first sidebar description was something akin to a prayer, written in very choral language, hoping for the day tenco's story iv was completed, ..., "meanwhile, furious shitposting". kannnu's work, finding delight in whatever they chose to draw, has been at my side, all along. my true mentor, my guiding moonlight...

so that's why i still to this day love tenco's story so much.

let's talk about tenco's story.

tenco's story is a story told through single pictures. the plot is vague, and details are sparse. dialogue is rare. we only know what has happened; we seldom know why. furthermore, there are many gaps between scenes that the reader is left to fill in for themselves; we see only snapshots that form an hazy outline of the events that occurred, and must imagine the rest. motivations and explanations fail me. but even with a barebones plot, tenco's story has themes, and if nothing else, those have to be carried through.

the main theme, of course, is journey and travel, but there are also other ideas, too. i actually think they start to change as the series goes on:

book i, where tenshi runs away from home, is about striking out on your own. it's a very fun and unpredictable journey, together with a friend.

book ii, where tenshi and iku are separated, forces tenshi to find and rely on companions of her own even more. but they do so, and they are able overcome hardships, and there is food and festival.

book iii marks a climax, reasserting tenshi's goal of finding the sword of hisou. i feel like the journey shifts from a travel (visiting) to a path forwards (making your way through). perhaps this is just something i get from knowing the locations from dark souls (Anor Londo, New Londo Ruins, the Great Hollow), but the locations start to give more of a sense of verticality, like they're emphasizing tenshi's climb to the summit. the hardships and enemies are the greatest they've been yet, and right when they near the top, tenshi and iku start to bleed. the book ends on an uncertain note.

if i had to describe the type of journey and travel that tenshi and iku undertake, there's this sense of wonder at discovering new places, wandering from vista to vista in delight, but also a sense of conquering, making it through a difficult patch. the sequence from pages 2-44 to 2-51, taken together, convey this sense of overcoming the best. it's one of my favourite parts. again, although the tone definitely starts to lean towards struggle in book iii, i think tenco's sense of wonder really is the heart of the series. there's no map of the world, no predicting where tenshi and iku will end up next. and through their travels, though they come across many enemies, they also find friends -- places of refuge, places full of life, people who will look after them for a few days, companions who will stay with them for the rest of the journey. at the end of book iii, we see a long haired tenshi with purple hair being impaled by the sword of hisou (3-33, see also this extra illustration that risa pointed out to me http://sinnnkai.blog.fc2.com/blog-entry-195.html), and regular short haired tenshi continuing on her journey (3-42). if we ignore the out-of-story images where tenshi has the sword of hisou, tenshi has actually only ever used her sunlight blade (2-24, 3-26, etc), so i think that the long haired tenshi on 3-33 is a different person altogether. (if i had to guess, she might be the purple haired woman in the top left of https://www.pixiv.net/member_illust.php?mode=medium&illust_id=35443328 as we have never seen that woman appear anywhere.) she probably has something to do with the flashbacks at the end of book ii and she might somehow be short-haired tenshi at the same time, but this is just speculation.

however, in 3-43, tenshi's hair is rather blue, so i don't know if this is the purple haired woman or not. if it is, tenshi is probably still fine and closing in on the summit, but if it isn't, then it's very worrying to see a picture of tenshi without any of her companions. it's very ominous.

meanwhile, iku, while climbing the red carpeted corridor, is stabbed, and disappears for a few pages. there's a black page, a shot of a shrine that strongly resembles the hakurei shrine, and a picture of iku standing behind someone in a tux, with the line "In the past, I was saved by the lady I was serving, you see?". and then iku wakes up in a field of flowers.

i think what this scene makes clear is a theme that has continued to appear and reappear throughout every book of "being saved, being aided by someone's kindness".

i think another theme that is implied and has to be addressed by this story of running away from home is "return". something im imagining is that the reason tenshi makes finding the sword of hisou her goal is because she wants to have something to prove herself with, to vindicate her when she comes home. but i don't think she needs to prove anything, and i ultimately think that she would be happier spending the rest of her life exploring.

so i think this should be what happens in the ending.

open on iku's journey, and give her a long sequence of travel without seeing tenshi. underline her newfound resolve. she climbs to the summit with albinoss, and finds the rest of tenshi's companions fallen. and in the last room is sword of hisou tenshi, who has lost herself, and it comes down to iku to bring her back. after a difficult battle, when both of them are on their last legs, iku is unable to stand any longer. but at this moment tenshi sees her companions struggling to get back up and reach her, and that's what brings her to her senses. and iku gets to see how many friends tenshi's been able to make on her own, and they finally and properly reunite. together, tenshi and iku carry each other out of the last room.

i don't think it's necessary to return to heaven. as a conclusion, dedicate some time to tenshi and iku travelling together. they're on their way back, revisiting old friends who helped them along the way, enjoying the journey. their last stop is the house of the elderly nawis (1-42). tenshi shows off the sword of hisou; she decided to keep it not as a trophy to show her family but as proof of the bonds of her companions. surrounded by friends, tenshi and iku decide to part ways with each other, knowing that the other will be alright. iku drifts among the clouds once more, and tenshi sets off for the horizon.

that's the plot that i'd write/just wrote. i don't really expect tenco's story iv to ever come out, though. i mentioned my first sidebar description earlier in this essay, but of course, you can see that it's been changed. 2 years ago, i read my hopeful prayer once more and was struck with a terrible melancholy, so now it reads this: "having come to terms with the fact that tenco's story iv will never be released, i can still live, knowing that the spirit of the journey will live on through kannnu's original works [...] meanwhile, furious shitposting".

on one level, tenco's story is a story, but in the process of following it, i came to think of the work itself as a journey too. you can constantly see kannnu's improvement between and even within each book. they have always drawn whatever they liked; what plot matters in the face of "I wanted to draw a beautiful sky." "I wanted to draw a fantastic battle." "I wanted to draw Dark Souls and Monster Hunter and Pokemon and Brave Fencer Musashi and Bokura no Taiyou and Touhou."

its not really kannnu's style to go back and tie up old ends. they just draw whatever makes them happy. so as i watch them continue to draw beautiful places and fantastic creatures, new characters heading out on journeys of their own or just enjoying their everyday lives, it's as if tenco's story never ended. the limits and consistency of that world ignored, and a new one springs up; in a way, the world of tenco's, which had such thin boundaries, just gets bigger.

but even so, having said all that, i still see them draw that short-haired tenshi from time to time. it makes me happy to see them remember tenco's story with such fondness. often crossing over with orion or roar or elweiss, you can see tenshi on another journey.

#tenco's story #freshlybakedspiderbread

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veridium · 6 years

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Ficlet: “Between Friends”

Inquisitor Olivia Sinclair

A snapshot memory from the Lady Inquisitor’s earlier life in the Ostwick Circle with her friends. Rated NSFW for discussion of sexual activities.

A/N: this was originally intended to be a snapshot in this most recent chapter update of “Fire in Her Mouth,” but I ended up cutting it out. But I thought it would be nice to still share. Enjoy!

9:34 Dragon, Ostwick –

Seven taps on the door. No less, and no more: that is how she knew to scoot her cold feet across the floor to unlock and welcome her visitors. It was the middle of the night during the guard change in the halls – the girls had timed and tracked it down to the minutes as most everyone their age did to outsmart the Templars. Nearly everything they did that was not studying, eating, cleaning, or sleeping required such discretion. The stringency and secrecy kept childish activities -- like sneaking away to bunk with your best friends to giggle and gossip -- exciting even in adulthood. At the age of 20 Olivia had yet to grow tired of hearing the timid taps on the old door, for she knew it meant Theia and Veronica huddled together on the other side. Simple, inexpensively made and shapeless linen night dresses and dark blankets pulled over their heads and shoulders making them look like beggar women coming in from the cold.

Olivia was always the headquartered hideaway: her dormmates were not as socially savvy as Theia’s and Veronica’s were. Or, at least, that is what she said when they asked why they all rolled onto their sides rather than rat them out. Olivia had bartered with them for years, exchanging what she could for their silence: doing their homework for them, providing her notes from lectures and assigned readings, and tutoring whoever needed it. Everyone trusted the Orlesian blonde because everyone had something to lose should they disavow her.

Climbing into her cot, she and Theia sprawled out while Veronica set out her blanket on the floor. She would feel for any aches or creaks in the wood floor panels in case the Templars had picked up on their trail or their giggling.

“Tell me everything,” Olivia squealed with delight, rubbing Theia on her shoulder.

“Oh, come now, it is nothing,” Apprentice Trevelyan replied, hugging her knees to her chest and exposing her feet and ankles.

“Do not give me that coy act! You were gone for an hour!”

“Felt like an age, though.” Veronica interjected with a wry grin, sitting on one hip with a knee propped up. “I had to nearly flash the man to get him to keep distracted.”

Theia choked back a laugh, pressing her fingers to her mouth. Olivia was lit up with wonder. Being a triad often meant two girls were complicit in trouble while the other was kept out for plausible deniability. Two girls’ antics was an anomaly – three was a conspiracy, and Templars already blamed Mages for being inherently duplicitous. Their growing older meant they were less and less able to blame youthful ignorance. Not that they were granted much to begin with in the first place. Faced with them both staring her down, Olivia with sweetness and Veronica with clever expectation, Theia caved.

“…It was an hour, but she did not last more than 10 minutes.”

Olivia blushed hot and throwing her hands up. Both her and Veronica went after her, patting and swatting at her. They were piss poor at stifling laughter and ragging. Theia nearly fell off the side of the beg, arms covering her face and top of her head.

“Stop it, stop! before they catch us.”

“I cannot believe you!” Olivia scolded, “you told me she was nothing but a girl to cheat off of for examinations.”

Veronica rolled her eyes, reclining back on her hands when she was done hitting. “Typical.”

“I thought she was, too! But…what can I say, I…liked her handwriting.”

“Oh, you!” Olivia hit her again on the side of her thigh. “The poor girl must think you worship her like Andraste and you are just pilfering.”

“Who said Andraste’s worshippers aren’t pilferers?” Veronica mused, “at least Theia knows where the true booty is.”

Theia smirked heavy and kicked at Veronica with her foot hanging off the bed. Tucking her chin and appearing demure, she wasn’t convincing any of her friends. This was but another conquest in the long line of tall tales she could divulge at any given moment and have every peer in the room mesmerized with her mastery. The Circle was prohibiting of many things one would consider benign staples to pleasant life. But when enough young Mages saw a mutual benefit in covering for one another’s amorous escapades, especially those that risked no chance of pregnancy, there were ways of circumventing these truths. Theia’s interludes were the work of no less than three other Mage women in concerted effort to cover while her and her tryst had their time. It was a habitual gamble Olivia was seldom tempted to try.

She sighed and rest her cheek on her bent knee. “What was it like?”

“Cold.”

“I mean it!”

“So do I! The window was open, and she ripped half my gown off. I had her shivering, and she had me shivering. Only one of us was doing it of ecstasy.”

Veronica shook her head. “When that happens, you stop complaining and make her thighs your ear muffs, you quitter.”

Olivia raised a brow at her haughty suggestion, and it only went higher when she turned and saw Theia’s guilty expression as she looked down at her lap and bit her lip again.

“Theia Sofia…” Olivia gasped low.

“I said she had ripped half my gown off, I never said I did not return the favor…” Theia shimmied her shoulders with bravado. Her dress slid off one and hung loosely, barely tied at the chest as she laid back on the bed fully. She curled her legs up in the air playfully, needling Olivia in the side with her toes.

“Come on, Olivia…”

“How clever, together you made one naked woman,” Veronica once again one for the obvious but colorful.

Olivia was unimpressed as she always tried to be. Something about not wanting to seem naïve, and dreading that it was already in plain sight for her friends to make fun of. Shirking Theia’s tickling toes away she grabbed her feather-stuffed, flat pillow to put against her stomach. She backed herself up against the wall and closed herself off from preeminently from the teasing, all the while Theia had her eyes on her, reading her bashful discomfort with those affectionately seasoned eyes and crooked smile. Theia was always so smooth, so easy on the eyes and the heart. Her stark appearance covered for a personality that was like velveteen: you always wanted to touch her, to be touched by her, whichever got her on your skin.

“I am…not disagreeing or judging you,” Olivia answered at last, tilting her head. “I am just unaccustomed. By choice, to be sure.”

“By choice, to be sure,” Veronica mocked Olivia’s Orlesian accent. A boorish caricature, but one that got the joke across. “I’m not about to sit through another hour of sifting through Madame Gem’s smallclothes looking for the key.” She ran her fingers through her hair and let the waves of dark brunette fall around her face and shoulders. Cool and acidic even at the age of eighteen.

Theia turned her head towards Ro and furrowed her brow in disagreement. “Easy, now. Let her be.”

“Everyone in the Circle knows to let Madame be,” Veronica countered. “Books and bottles, not bosoms and bottoms. That is what the sing behind her back. We ought to squash it.”

Olivia inhaled and held her breath against the mention of the unrelenting teasing she had sustained for years since her first days in Ostwick. First, she had been the elitist Orlesian princess, prim and snobby. Then, she was a young hussy when people saw her advance expediently through her class ranks and apprenticeship duties, for surely no young Mage could do so without dealing something out. Then, when those rumors waned, she became a hybrid of the dichotomy: an irreproachable paragon, conservative but tempting. Coveted, but closeted. Having friends who were louder and more apt to answer slander with sucker punches helped.

She shrugged and pulled her hair over one shoulder. “I don’t mind it. It is hardly consequential. I spend all my time in the library or in the formulas hall, anyway.”

Theia tucked her chin as she gazed down the other end of the bed at her sweet, fair friend. “Are you certain, Gem?”

�� “Yes. The last thing I want is theatrics.”

“Pfft,” Veronica folded her arms and leaned against the small drawer nightstand accompanying her bed.

Later that night conversation and shit-shooting gave into sleep. Veronica remained on the floor, ever vigilant for disturbances even when sleep neutralized her senses. She was the first to doze off, while Theia and Olivia shared space in bed and one pillow between both their heads. It was often just so: Veronica, or maybe Roslyn, sleeping soundly while the two of them talked story. There were times when Olivia looked forward to them more than the initial time spent with the entire group.

“She kissed like a cat licks at cream, I swear,” Theia said as she curled her fingers to her chin. “I was so confused.”

Olivia scrunched her nose in distaste. “Ugh, I hate the sound of that.”

“Hate the sound of it? You did not have to endure it.”

“So, there was nothing redeemable about it? Nothing at all?”

Theia contorted her mouth to one side of her face as she looked away. Sincere pondering from someone so well-known for her sarcasm. “She has soft hands. And her voice. Her voice is nice…I suppose.”

Olivia cuddled her head into her pillow. “She snorts when she laughs, I’ve heard her in the study wing.”

“She does not!”

“Yes, she does! Like a pig caught with its breeches down!”

Theia smiled broadly, a breathy laugh harboring itself in the back of her throat. “Is there even such a thing?”

Shrugging her shoulder, Olivia bit down on her finger nail. “Maybe so, since she sounds like it.”

“Oh, hush up. You are more venomous than you play.”

Theia was right. She was always right. Just because Olivia did not open her mouth and show off the perceptive skills she had been raised to sharpen, did not mean that her rhetorical weapons had dulled. Opinions were opinions, with or without expression. But the last thing the world needed was her cunning point of view, especially when Theia and Veronica were so much better at it than she was. Cool and edgy, while she was meek and underwhelming.

After chuckling a bit, Theia’s smile fell a bit. “Olivia, you know what Veronica said…”

“Yes? What of it?”

Theia paused, caution in her eyes where there once was comfortability. “Are you…are you honestly so unaffected by what everyone says?”

The question was a fair one. Acidic assumptions had tried again and again to condemn Olivia to little more than posh inconsequence. Yet she had prevailed, remaining true to her single-minded goals. Being so consistent would preclude either a dissonant ego or a proficient façade in the face of adversity.

Olivia’s gaze went in search of any captivating sight while she pondered her response.

“I…I am. They can think what they wish to. I am doing what I want to be doing.”

“Yes, but are you not hungering for something? Anything…different?”

“What do you mean?”

Theia blinked, her eyes going from Olivia’s lips to her eyes back and forth, fast and fleeting. “Do you not want to be loved?”

“I am loved, silly,” Olivia rebuked, “by you, and Veronica, and Roslyn…is love not known in ways outside of amorous affection?”

The conversation paused. Theia looked like she was chewing on something mentally: the way her expression steadied and panicked at the same time, the way she held her clutched hand close to her chin, half-covering her pensive mouth. She clearly did not empathize with Olivia’s indifference. For someone as talented, beautiful, and beguiling as her, it was understandable why she would see what little slice of the world they had as her stomping ground. Even in a Circle tower. A few scant strands of her ice white hair fell a bit more into her face, unkept by her braid.

“If you ever…” she stopped and blinked nervously. “Look, I…”

Olivia watched her, nonplussed with her sudden shift in attitude. “What are you saying?”

“If you…” Theia tried again but stopped herself. She broke her stare, looking down at their knees curled against each other.

“Spit it out, Theia, before I fall asleep,” Olivia tucked her head against her flattened hands and closed her eyes. This was a time before the nightmares, a time when sleep was trusted. It was all the more decadent when shared with the women who had become her family, even when they wanted to talk her ear off while she drifted into slumber.

“…If you ever wanted to…to see if you would…if you like women that way. I would…you know.”

Olivia opened her eyes in a flash, looking as if Theia had chirped like a bird rather than speak.

“You mean…!?”

Theia looked like a deer caught by hunters in the field, realizing too late that she was in the path of an arrow. “I…I was just saying, if you desired it to be with someone you trusted. A friend.”

Olivia scoffed. “Theia, dump out whatever water you have been drinking, because clearly it has you going mad.”

“I am not mad, I was—”

“Theia.”

Olivia stared her down with assurance, even in her softness. She could never rebuke Theia caustically, even when her ideas were absurd. Deep down, Theia always had the best intentions. But she had stepped too far into the sanctum of Olivia’s life she had ensured would never be encroached on. The last thing she needed was to cultivate material for the Circle to further gossip about her. Once more, she had seen what could become of Theia’s lovers and flirtations: the way girls were objectified and demeaned, even when Theia stood up for them. She would not be one of them.

Seeing the confidence in Olivia’s disposition, Theia backed down. “Forget I ever said anything,” she smirked sorely, “I just wanted to help.”

“I know you did,” Olivia grinned as she reached and stroked Theia’s forearm. “But, trust me, I have all that I could ever need and want; people can talk all they want, I know they are simply jealous.”

Theia’s embarrassed look softened then, her face relaxing into restful solace. She nuzzled into the limp pillow and placed her hand on the one Olivia had extended to her.

“You are right. The measured one, as always,” Theia gave in, closing her eyes and settling in.

Olivia watched her friend, her protective ally, in all her humble sincerity. Willing to offer herself and her body as if she could legitimize her and defend her in the face of slander. She was worth so much more than a resource.

They never spoke like that after that night. One would hope it was due to respectful understanding, but like so many things between close friends, the lines were not that clean. Olivia would never know for sure whether it was trust, or the fact that several weeks later a black-haired and eloquent fellow Apprentice by the name of Odessa began her advances. Moves and maneuvers that, strangely, Olivia would not turn away. For some intuitive reason she could not explain, she knew Theia would be upset by it: which is why it took several more weeks and rumors passed through the grapevine for it to come to light at last. By that time, Odessa’s hands had been all over her, deep and direct as they were considerate. Something in the way Theia looked at her changed forever. Womanhood had come calling for the young Foxes.

#oc stuff #olivia sinclair #Inquisitor!olivia #theia trevelyan #veronica crespin #the foxes #ficlet #flashback fic

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hypocrisyofandrewdobson · 6 years

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I wanna take a moment to compare SYAC to Awkward Zombie when it comes to showcasing how the artist goes about the comic making process.

Let's start with Exhibit A...

Note how Katie takes the time to show what she's drawing. The side-by-side comparisons of normal facial expressions, and then the cluster of exaggerated faces which leads to the punchline.

Dobson focuses only on himself. We don't even see what he's drawing. It's just him making faces. I think this is very telling about the premise of of SYAC.

Supposedly it's about being a cartoonist. But we seldom see any actual cartoons being produced. There's talk of it, we see Dobson stress about it, and occasionally we see him working at his art desk. But we seldom actually see his characters or even hear what the stories are about. The focus is mainly on Dobson's daily life, as well as his political views.

Awkward Zombie's premise is jokes about videogames, only occasionally showing a funny or notable moment from Katie's life. Yeah, there's a million videogame webcomics out there, but Awkward Zombie does an excellent job at sticking to its premise. SYAC can't even manage that much.

That brings us to Exhibit B...

The first comic shows Katie's writing process. All the while we see her map out the idea and create line art for the panels. It's about this comic, which received criticism for either not being accurate to the game or for not being original enough. She even admits the person criticizing her is just a strawman, as shown by their screenname and user icon. This wasn't Katie deflecting criticism, so much as it was her telling us she isn't perfect and not all her ideas are great, but she's putting her all into this so don't accuse her of not caring about quality.

That's really something you can say about Awkward Zombie. It occasionally has an unfunny comic. But that's rare. The funny ones outnumber the unfunny ones. And even when the unfunny ones happen, you can at least see where the effort was put in. Also, note how Katie only appears in five of the panels. Most of it is dedicated to showing how the comic is being made.

Meanwhile, in SYAC, the big-nosed critic points out everything wrong with Dobson's writing. But Dobson smugly brushes him off with a, "LOL No one cares but you!" To add to it, you know Dobson is gonna deny what a strawman the big-nosed critic is. He's just a snob trying to bring poor Dobby down.

And once again, we don't see what Dobson is drawing. We can't even see what the big-nosed critic is reading. The focus is on Dobson and nothing else. We can't even determine who is actually right here, because we can't see the comic the big-nosed critic is complaining about.

And that finally brings us to Exhibit C...

Katie worries that her audience won't understand the jokes, but at the same time worries about relying too much on explaining the joke or oversimplifying things. She doesn't want to assume her readers are idiots, and settles for giving an explanation in the paragraph below the comic, just in case anyone doesn't get it.

Again, this showcases her desire to maintain good quality. She understands that it's not the reader's fault if something goes over their head, and doesn't want them to feel excluded. Rather than play victim or talk down to others, she found a simple solution that didn't require her to rewrite the joke.

Dobson, however, loves to talk down to people and call them an idiot for not getting his jokes. If you don't understand what he's talking about or where the thing he's referencing is from, then Google it yourself, you lazy dipwad!

Classy attitude to have. I expected nothing less.

In conclusion, Awkward Zombie is a well put together webcomic made by a cool person, and you should give it a look through sometime. SYAC is a bad webcomic made by an awful person, and should only be used as a checklist of what not to do when making a comic.

I’m not personally familiar with Awkward Zombie, but this is a very good comparison between the efforts and personalities of two webcomic artists. Nicely done.

#Submission #Andrew Dobson #Tom Preston #submission #awkward zombie

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aion-rsa · 3 years

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The Trouble with Alien Zombies

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Soon we’re going to be watching Zack Snyder leave behind the quest for a “grown-up” superhero movie and return to his old playground, the zombie movie. Army of the Dead looks like a huge amount of fun and leaves us wondering why nobody has made a zombie heist movie before (except for Train to Busan sequel, Peninsula), but one of the plot details that has leaked about the film is that Area 51 plays a significant role.

This suggests that the zombie plague may be extraterrestrial in origin. Like most subversions of the zombie apocalypse genre (although Army of the Dead promises a much smaller and more contained “apocalypse” so that all that cash they steal is still worth something) this is actually a plot twist you can trace back to the earliest roots of the genre.

In Night of the Living Dead, the zombie apocalypse (although again, by the end of the film the “ghouls” seem to have been mostly mopped up) is the result of strange radiation emerging from a probe that has returned from Venus. The trope goes back even further than that.

One of the few films that can make a claim to an earlier take on the zombie apocalypse than Night of the Living Dead is the timeless classic Plan 9 from Outer Space. In that film, which we will not be making any jokes about, aliens reanimate the recently dead and drive them to attack the capital cities of the Earth.

In fact, if you want to find pre-George Romero examples of zombie apocalypse stories, the original series of Star Trek has done two. In the episode “Miri” the Enterprise encounters an exact duplicate of Earth, except that humanity has been wiped out by a deadly pandemic that turns every adult human into a violent, raging monster. It’s a premise explored in more detail by Charlie Higson’s YA zombie series The Enemy, and the Netflix series Daybreak.

Star Trek also gives us the brilliantly titled “Operation — Annihilate!”, where a swarm of spacefaring parasites sweep through the galaxy, infecting humanoids and driving them to a violent rage.

Yes, zombie purists might claim both of these are close to 28 Days Later’s “Rage infected humans” than true zombies, but in truth, the genre is big enough to include multitudes, and anything that A: uses human bodies, to B: create more entities like itself, while C: Not appearing to be intelligent, will usually create a story that looks a lot like a zombie story.

Indeed, Star Trek would come back to space zombies again, once more in the Star Trek: Enterprise episode, “Impulse” and again in the pilot episode of Star Trek: Lower Decks.

Is There Death on Mars?

Star Trek is not alone in drinking from this particular well. Early in its run Dark Matter had a space zombie episode. Doctor Who has done two space zombie episodes in the new series alone, “The Waters of Mars”, and “Oxygen” (which used zombie movie tropes for their intended purpose- bringing down capitalism), and that’s just including the ones actually set in space. Hell, even the primitive bandage-and-hospital-gown-wearing Cybermen from “The Doctor Falls” have a very George Romero vibe to them.

The appeal of putting a zombie in a spaceship for a TV show is easy to see. Zombies are a cool and instantly recognisable monster. Spaceships are a cool and instantly recognisable setting. What’s more, while your production values may vary, zombies on a spaceship is a pretty damn cheap concept to realise on screen. Zombies are just however many extras you can afford with some gory make-up. All you need for a spaceship is some suitably set-dressed corridors and maybe a couple of exterior model shots if you’re feeling swish.

And as with the zombie apocalypse genre as a whole, the audience instantly and instinctively understands “the rules” of a zombie story, allowing you to focus on your characters and the solutions they come up with.

The movies are no stranger to the space zombie either. The most straightforward example being The Last Days on Mars, which is pretty much a note-for-note remake of Doctor Who’s “The Waters of Mars” but without David Tennant. Mars is a popular venue, in fact as we see also Martian zombie apocalypses in Doom (2005) and Doom Annihilation (neither of which I watched to research this article, because there are limits). Even the “Ghosts” in Ghosts of Mars (which I did watch) may resemble more of a cross between Mad Max baddies and Evil Dead’s Deadites than zombies, but still, have a certain zombieness about them.

Most recently, in this last year Bruce Willis has starred in not one, but two movies with sub-Doctor Who production values where he fights space zombie-like adversaries (I have watched Breach/Anti-Life and Cosmic Sin, so don’t know why I thought I could get away with being snobby about the Doom movies earlier).

But Doom also raises another point about space zombies – a really popular venue for the extra-terrestrial undead is videogames.

This is for surprisingly very similar reasons to why space zombies are popular on telly and in film. Videogames will get far more creative in designing the appearance of their space zombies – with the Dead Space trilogy setting the bar with their gloriously gory Necromorphs – but the AI for a zombie, environmental navigation aside, seldom needs to be much more complicated than that of a Pac-Man ghost. Space has been a popular videogame setting for as long as videogames have been a thing, thanks to the handy black background it offers, and once again, corridors.

We’ve seen them in Dead Space, in all the Doom games, but also the Halo games in the form of the fungal, cancerous looking, Ophiocordyceps unilateralis-inspired Flood. Mass Effect gives us colonists zombified by the sentient Thorian plant, as well as the more technological “Husks”. And of course, there’s that one Call of Duty map.

Even now the makers of the original Dead Space games are looking to get back in on the action with the upcoming game, The Callisto Protocol.

And yet, while the appeal of space zombies is undeniable, by the same token they just don’t feel quite like “proper” zombie stories.

In Space, Nobody Can Hear You Shout “Brains!”

The problem is this: Your archetypical zombie story is ultimately a siege narrative. Night of the Living Dead, Dawn of the Dead, Shaun of the Dead, even twists on the formula like 28 Days Later, Train to Busan, and Pontypool all operate on a similar premise. You and some humans you probably don’t get on with are trapped in a structure (in Train it’s a moving structure, but still counts). Outside of that structure, there are somewhere between hundreds and thousands of zombified humans who want to get in and kill you. The humans keep arguing until the zombies get in and kill everyone.

For this to work you need a structure with a lot of room around it, and a big population of people to be turned into zombies.

Unfortunately the living conditions in space, even in our wildest space future fantasies, tend to be A: Quite claustrophobic, and B: Don’t have many people in.

Even in Dead Space, arguably the best example of a space zombie story, you very often find yourself thinking that if zombies hadn’t killed off this mining ship/space station/mining colony, overpopulation would have.

At the same time, spaceships, space stations and colonies tend to have really good, robust metal doors separating any two parts of the habitat, quickly reducing any zombie plotline to this XKCD cartoon.

But there are workarounds, and ways to use these restrictions to your advantage. Zombies are, by nature, pretty rubbish, slow-moving, stupid, easy to kill in small numbers. Most zombie stories get around this issue by throwing loads of them at you. Space zombie movies can make use of those corridors we mentioned earlier, showing how much scarier a single zombie can be in enforced close quarters.

Zombies also have one major advantage over their living victims – they don’t need to breathe. This is a major plus point in space, offering you the chance to have hordes of zombies crawling along the outer hull of the ship – something we’ve seen in Dead Space and Doctor Who’s “Oxygen”.

At the same time, the space setting also emphasises another key aspect of the zombie story – resource management. In space there is no huge abundance of well-stocked shopping malls or bunkers full of firearms. One of the ways The Last Days on Mars manages to make its very small number of zombies threatening is that their small hab modules have very little that you could use as a weapon.

And yet, space zombies still lack a certain something of their terrestrial counterparts.

It’s Undeath, Jim, but Not as We Know It

The thing is, aside from anything else, zombies are a transformation of the familiar. They look like more beaten-up versions of your neighbours and co-workers. The zombie apocalypse is a scene you can easily imagine on your street, at your pub, your local shopping centre.

Army of the Dead gets this – no matter where you are in the world, the iconography of the Las Vegas strip is familiar and we enjoy seeing it overrun by the undead.

And spaceships just aren’t. You might conceivably end up on holiday in Vegas. You’re statistically unlikely to be an astronaut.

But it’s more than that. Zombies are far more than cheap monsters that require little in the way of make-up or AI programming. The symbolism they carry is incredibly weighty. Earthly zombies have been used to represent capitalism, conformity, Vietnam soldiers, couch potato culture, mob mentality, our instinct towards violence, poverty, our obsession with mobile phones, and our ability to dehumanise one another.

Divorced from our world, from us as we recognise ourselves, that symbolism becomes a lot harder to nail. The zombies in The Last Days on Mars are just zombies. Dead Space’s Necromorphs are maybe a legally-safe satire on Scientology? Pandorum gives us extremely pale evolved human descendants that are extremely zombie-ish, and they certainly exhibit some of the worst bits of humanity, but they also live in a darkened, claustrophobic Hell, so it’s hard to hold it against them.

Zombies rarely represent anything in the way Earth-bound zombies do.

At least, nothing human.

Adrian Tchaikovsky’s Children of Ruin features a sentient alien slime mould-like creature that, in its curiosity and need to explore, infiltrates and takes over the nervous system of the humans it encounters. To an outside observer, they look extremely like zombies, but the lifeform itself isn’t aggressive, just very, very alien. Andrew Skinner’s Steel Frame gives us not only space zombies, but space zombie mechs, and again the “Flood” (not the Halo one) that infects them is implied to be a kind of hivemind.

Most of the space zombies we’ve seen here aren’t what purists would call “true zombies” but are some manner of hivemind. This is true of Halo’s Flood, Mass Effect’s Thorians and Husks, and if we throw the doors to zombie-dom wide open, while they’re very different in the TV series, the Borg of Star Trek: First Contact come across as alien cyber-zombies.

One book to feature relatively harmless alien-created zombies is Arkady and Boris Strugatsky’s Roadside Picnic. In that book the aliens aren’t robots or little green men, we just encounter their leftovers and garbage, which are artefacts strange and incomprehensible to humans. That these artefacts somehow raise the dead as mindless automata is a minor side issue – the book is about how alien intelligence might be something so different from ourselves we don’t even recognise it as intelligence.

If there is a space for alien zombies and zombie astronauts in the zombie pantheon, maybe it’s there. Space zombies are scary because they look like us but think so differently that we can’t comprehend them, while Earth zombies are scary because we have oh so much in common with them.

cnx.cmd.push(function() { cnx({ playerId: "106e33c0-3911-473c-b599-b1426db57530", }).render("0270c398a82f44f49c23c16122516796"); });

Chris Farnell is the author of Fermi’s Progress, a series of novellas about a prototype FTL ship that blows up every planet it encounters. The latest instalment, Descartesmageddon, features an alien planet undergoing a very different kind of zombie apocalypse. It is available at Scarlet Ferret and Amazon.

The post The Trouble with Alien Zombies appeared first on Den of Geek.

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#aion-rsa #Den of Geek

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rkfstudio · 7 years

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Top Ten Comic Characters of All Time (according to me)

Introduction/disclaimer:

This list is mine and is based on my personal and subjective criteria. My choices are based on what I have read in comics as opposed to other media. For instance, one of my favorite superheroes, Squirrel Girl, is not on this list because I have read next to none of her comics and my love of the character is based almost exclusively on her concept and her appearances in other media.

Also, some people might want to fault me and my list for a lack of “inclusiveness” or “representation” or whatever. Full disclosure: I’m a straight white dude and I tend to relate most to the straight white dude characters that have historically dominated the comics world. Thus, I’m more likely to be drawn to stories about those characters. I do not apologize for my tastes. If they radically differ from yours, feel free to make your own list and tell me why you like the characters you like. That would be awesome.

Finally, there are half a dozen characters outside this Top Ten that could jump into it at any moment. This list represents my Top Ten at the time I wrote this and is subject to change.

Still with me? Cool! Here we go!

10. Wolverine

Most people would put Logan aka James Howlett aka the Wolverine much higher on their lists, and I completely understand why. He is “the best he is at what he does” ™ and is one of the most complex and interesting characters in comics. He also, until his death a couple of years ago, was perhaps the most overexposed character in all of comics. He’s a down to earth guy who mostly just wants to be left alone, but neither the comic world nor the comic industry is willing to give him a break. With a cool and dark backstory and super cool powers, he’s one of the legitimate badasses in the Marvel universe.

9. Blue Beetle/Jaime Reyes

“What is this blasphemy?! Jaime Reyes ranked higher than Mr. Snikt?!” Yes. This is my list and I say Jaime gets a higher spot.

Hear me out on this. Beetle gets this spot on my list mainly due to his introductory arc during DC’s “One Year Later” event and his recent “Rebirth” run. Both runs are well written with great character interaction and dialogue. Jaime’s just a regular high school kid who also happens to be a superhero. Not the most original concept (*cough* Spider-Man! *cough*) but he pulls it off in what feels like a fresh way. It also doesn’t hurt that he was a show stealer in his recurring role in the “Batman: The Brave and the Bold” cartoon a few years ago. But his comics just shine to me.

8. Batman

More controversy! Batman is only at number 8! I realize most people place him much higher because he’s one of the more relatable members of DC’s top-flight heroes in that he’s just a man in a world of gods. For me, he suffers from the same kind of overexposure that Wolverine has had over the years. I also don’t tend to find him as interesting as the characters he deals with, whether his allies or his rogues' gallery. He’s a darker, more brooding Iron Man (I realize Batman came first, but I think the comparison is still valid). I find him at his best when he’s forced to play with others, especially Superman, because the tension between the “solitary crimefighter” and the “super team” dynamics can be so fun. Recommended reading includes the Justice miniseries by Alex Ross and Co. and the Justice League: Lightning Saga story arc.

7. Captain Marvel/Shazam!

For the five of you that are still reading, this entry might be the last straw. Bear with me. Batman is the dark, brooding hero of the night. Captain Marvel (or Shazam for those willing to give up the ghost of Fawcett Comics) is the polar opposite of that: he is bright, colorful, and full of whimsy. Whimsy and wonder are both things that are in short supply in this post-Watchmen comics world, and that’s a shame. It’s that harkening back to the core of how comics began that is a large part of his appeal to me. Interestingly enough, it’s a couple of his more recent stories that have made me love him as a character. Jeff Smith, of Bone fame, wrote an origin miniseries for Captain Marvel called Shazam and the Monster Society of Evil and it’s wonderful. Also recommended is his part in the previously mentioned Justice series.

6. Captain America

This is a more conventional pick. Cap makes this list for similar reasons to the previous Captain on this list: he represents the values and sentiments of a bygone age. In particular, his refusal to compromise his beliefs regardless of the personal cost is a breath of fresh air and too seldom seen anymore. Leader, soldier, champion of liberty, that’s Cap. Look up his run in the New Avengers series up through the Civil War arc to see exactly what I’m talking about.

Also, Hydra Cap never happened. Just no.

5. Joker

You know how the last two choices were upstanding, almost squeaky-clean citizens?

Yeah, good times.

For someone completely different, Number Five gives us the Joker. He is, bar none, the most fascinating supervillain ever, responsible for some of the most twisted moments in mainstream comics. Jason Todd? That was the Joker. Barbara Gordon? Yep, that was him, too. Harley Quinn? Mistah J says, “You’re welcome.” The Joker is sick, twisted, and downright evil, and he embraces it like no other. Sometimes, a villain isn’t misunderstood; sometimes a villain is just a villain. And the Joker does “villain” with a style all his own. Required reading includes the Justice series (can you tell I like this series? I do.), the Dark Knight Returns, and, of course, The Killing Joke.

4. Superman

Honestly, I thought Supes would be higher on my list. He’s the first superhero and still, to me at least, one of the best. I realize most folks find him to be too powerful to be relatable, and there’s no small amount of validity to that point. But the best part of this character isn’t his ability to punch planets out of orbit or “leap tall buildings” or any of that. It’s his... well, his character. That middle-America farmer’s son upbringing, with its sense of right and wrong that has so seldom failed him, is what makes Superman more than just the Last Son of Krypton. To borrow from Kingdom Come, it’s the “man” more than the “super” that makes him special. It’s what makes him a symbol of virtue and excellence, a standard to which we can aspire. It’s Clark Kent, rather than Kal-El, that I want to be like. Some good reading includes the aforementioned Kingdom Come, The Superman/Batman Supergirl arc (this is actually a good Batman read, as well) and, you guessed it, Justice.

3. Hellboy

Sadly, this is the only non-Big-Two character on my list. For now. I’m just starting to branch out so future lists might have more.

Anyway, Hellboy makes the list because he isn’t what you’d expect him to be. The son of a major league demon and destined to bring about the apocalypse, he should be an earth-shattering villain. But he’s a hero because of his upbringing by a paranormal expert. Nurture triumphing over Nature. The monster as the hero. Also, he’s just a fun character and his stories are good stuff. Of particular note, mainly because this is what I’ve read, is the recent Hellboy and the BPRD 1950s series.

2. Rocket Raccoon

If you’ve read this far, this pick really shouldn’t surprise you. Sometimes, we want heroes to inspire us to be better people. Sometimes, we just want a raccoon with a big flarkkin’ gun. Rocket’s recent string of short series, both solo and with Groot, are just fun reading.

1. Hulk

This was the one pick I didn’t need to think about; Hulk was at Number One from the start. The concept of a super smart guy who turns into a raging monster when he loses his cool resonates with me on an intensely personal level. While he has had quite a few strange turns in his comics history, the big guy really came into his own during the Planet Hulk series, where he was shot into space by his best “friends” to a planet full of enemies and dangers that only the Hulk could survive. His development from monster to gladiator to fugitive to king, and then to vengeful conqueror in the following World War Hulk, is one of my favorite arcs in all of comics. Whether big and kind of dumb or big and super smart or somewhere in between like in the stories I’ve mentioned, Hulk is my Number One comic character of all time. At least until the next time.

So, that’s my list. But what’s a list like this without some honorable mentions?

Honorable Mentions:

12. Rorschach

This is the obligatory Watchmen pick. While I don’t like the story, I appreciate the historical impact it’s had on the comics industry. Rorschach is the only character that I can call anything close to a “good guy” despite his extreme homicidal tendencies. His refusal to go along with the alien invasion story covering Ozymandias’s murder of millions of people “so billions might live”, his refusal to accept the lesser evil, shows an integrity that is perhaps outdated but no less laudable for being outdated.

13. Renee Montoya/the Question

The first woman on this list and it’s neither Wonder Woman nor fan-favorite Kitty Pryde. Renee Montoya is, to me, a more interesting character than either, mostly because she’s very flawed. She’s rough around the edges; she drinks to excess; she has doubts about her abilities and her value as a detective. I gather most of this info from her run in DC’s 52 series, which is a great read on its own.

16. Lex Luthor

This guy.

This guy right here.

He’s the stereotypical “evil businessman” and yet he is so much more. A legit genius who inevitably uses that genius to fight petty grudges rather than help humanity reach claims potential like he claims to care about. Kingdom Come, Justice, you know the drill.

19. Iron Man

Some characters combine seriously cool abilities with personalities that are seriously hard to like. Iron Man is cool; Tony Stark is just an egomaniacal jerk. It’s also worth noting that Tony often has to use Iron Man (and the Avengers) to fix problems of his own making. He’s a great character, but he’s not a good one.

25. Deadpool

Because Wade was going to kill me if I didn’t put him somewhere on this list.

Seriously. He’s standing right next to me while I’m writing this.

Help me.

30. Death of the Endless

I’ve honestly only read one issue featuring Death, Neil Gaiman’s Sandman, #8. But that one issue is probably my favorite single comic issue ever. It’s stark, poignant, and beautiful. My list had 29 characters and I immediately thought of her for Number Thirty, but I’m sure she’ll move higher if I ever read any more of her stories.

Well, that’s all for now. I hope you enjoyed this strange trip through my comic book preferences. For real, to all who’ve gotten this far, I’d love to read your Top Ten. I find the reasons why different people like different characters fascinating.

Till next time, cheers, y’all!

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tisfan · 7 years

Text

And Tell Me Did Venus Blow Your Mind

(Was it everything you wanted to find)

[Part One: Lift Your Eyes and Let Me In (’Cause Baby I’m an Alien Like You)]

So, space was terrifying.

Not that Tony didn’t know that. Not that he didn’t realize that before he said goodbye to everything that he knew to venture out into the unknown.

Well, unknown to him. Peter and the rest of the Milano’s crew were pretty familiar with space. Although any of them (including Peter, who was actually a Terran and it might have been nice if he remembered that sometimes before commenting on how backwater Terra was) would have said that Terra was alien and unfamiliar. Not a part of the larger galaxy. Just a tiny little planet that really, no one noticed or cared much about.

That was both humbling and weirdly soothing at the same time. Tony Stark on Terra: Big Deal. Tony Stark in the wider galaxy: Non-entity.

“I’ve never been a nobody before,” Tony commented. He was sitting in what Peter called the copilot’s chair, but his hands were well away from the controls. A copilot was seldom necessary and Gamora had already told him that she’d bodily rip him from the chair and throw him across the ship if a copilot was required. Drax had laughed at that, Rocket had made some disparaging comments about humies and their inability to function like normal people, and did he know what a pencil was, which was just rude, and pretty much par for the course as far as Rocket was concerned. Groot announced that, once again, he was Groot.

“You’re not nobody,” Peter insisted. “You’re Star Lord’s consort. That makes you somebody. Just somebody to a very small, select group of highly unstable people.”

“Well, that sounds about like home, yeah,” Tony said. He couldn’t help but smile at that. Boyfriend. It was a nice word. And Peter, unlike everyone else Tony had ever been claimed by, didn’t care about all the rest of the baggage that went with dating Tony Stark. Playboy, billionaire, philanthropist, genius, superhero, merchant of death. None of that was important to someone who was, as Rocket said, a two-time galaxy savior.

Tony was keeping his eyes on Peter’s hands as he moved the various knobs and levers, punched buttons and flipped switches. There were four screens, solid-light or some similar tech. For a spaceship, the Milano was a little retro. The stick was like sticks for ships and planes everywhere that Tony had ever seen. Roll, pitch, yaw, and go.

“Does it take long to learn to pilot?” Tony asked. He still hadn’t looked out the front window, keeping his gaze firm fixed below the ship’s dash.

(read more, or the whole thing on A03 [x])

“Yondu taught me to fly when I was ten,” Peter said. “I was piloting the Milano on solo missions at thirteen. Now, most of that was because I had the patience of a Nartilibian, and about as much sense, so I kept stealin’ M ships and running off with ‘em. Might also had somethin’ to do with how Yondu kept threatening to let the crew eat me, if I kept misbehaving. I’m almost positive that was a joke. But the almost is still a bit worrisome.”

Tony blinked. “Is that a thing that happens?”

Peter shrugged, which wasn’t exactly reassuring. “Hasn’t happened to me, but there aren’t so many Terrans in the galaxy that we exactly have equal representation at a council hearing or anything. Who’s gonna argue?”

“There aren’t laws against that sort of thing?”

“Well, that depends on whether or not you consider humies to be intelligent life forms or not,” Rocket said, coming up behind them. “Some of us do not.”

Tony hid a smile behind his hand, scratching at his beard. Rocket did not like it when he thought Tony wasn’t taking him seriously enough, and Rocket was also pretty damned disgusted by Terra’s lack of scientific advancement. Even the Iron Man suit -- which Tony had upgraded to be space-worthy before they’d left -- was bulky and pointless, as far as the raccoon was concerned. Of course, calling Rocket a raccoon was asking for more trouble, but since it was trouble that Peter appeared to delight in anyway, Tony allowed himself to slip up. From time to time.

“So, Quill, we’re uh, within a few jumps of landing on Archeopia, right?” Drax asked. He was hanging in the pilot’s bay, one hand on the main support-strut.

“Yes, Drax,” Peter said, carefully. “That was, indeed, on the list. Delivery of four hundred barrels of sunflower seeds, Terran-grown. As requested, and I might add, prepaid for delivery, so please tell me that you did not come up here to tell me that, I don’t know, Groot’s decided they’re long-lost kin or something?”

“I did not come up here to tell you that Groot’s adopted the seedlings,” Drax said, dutifully. “I am here to tell you that sunflower seeds are delicious. And also, if you spin the barrel around really really fast in the gravity room, it makes a wonderful pasty substance that can be eaten between slices of bread.”

Peter groaned. “How many?”

“Two.”

“Not slices of bread, you hulking portable stomach. How many barrels did you eat?”

Drax belched, loudly. “Six.”

“Well, I suppose that’s an improvement,” Peter said, tipping his head back and forth. “Don’t eat any more of it, though.” He sighed as Drax wandered off. “One day, just one trip, one job, one… hour.”

“I’ll pencil you in for an hour, after dinner,” Tony suggested, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

Peter grinned. “I actually do have you pencilled in for dinner, and after dinner. Archeopia’s a nice planet, very scenic. I thought… we might have a picnic.”

That was going hand in hand with some of Tony’s earlier dates with Quill, all simple stuff that he could manage without having access to the Stark Fortune in space. Hard to wine and dine a guy when he was your meal ticket, Tony thought, trying to avoid squirming in the co-pilot’s chair, feeling just a little guilty about it.

“Tell me about the planet,” Tony suggested.

Quill waxed poetic for a while; Archeopia’s main population were aviary folk; they’d been through some pretty terrible things, including being tracked down and slaughtered by Peter’s father, which was how Peter ended up discovering them in the first place. Tony knew a little bit about trying to make up for a father’s sins.

“Technically, this isn’t their original planet, the original one was destroyed centuries ago, but some of them were out wandering -- that’s what the space-faring group of them calls themselves, the Wanderers. Kinda like Ronin or something, that’s cool, right?”

“Yeah, Angry Birds in Space,” Tony agreed. “It’s cool. Totally a thing.”

“But they picked this one because it’s just… wild and overgrown, and there’s lots of trees. I thought it’d be a good place for a picnic,” Peter went on. He touched Tony’s wrist, rubbed his thumb gently over the pulse point. “Want to show you the galaxy, sunshine.”

Tony couldn’t help but hum into Peter’s touch; there was something about that thumb on his wrist that felt intimate, a private caress that Peter did, no matter where they were. No matter who they were standing in front of. Tony had to admit, he liked it.

There were things Tony knew about space and extraterrestrial planets and then there were things that he’d been told. And then there were things he had to learn about the hard way.

Gravity.

That was a thing.

Now, Tony was perfectly aware that different planetary densities and size would make for different gravities; what he hadn’t accounted for was that there were personal graviton devices. Peter had given him one, the first time they’d docked the Milano. The disc stuck to the back of Tony’s neck, interacted with the gravity on whatever planet they were on, and adjusted it for earth-norm, so he could walk, breathe, and generally be able to operate as normal -- some species who were more space-faring than his own had used the various gravities to their advantage; heavy gravity planet aliens were stronger and denser than Terrans.

And while Tony’s gravity wasn’t the lightest out there, earth-normal was less than the average. Earth was a tiny, backwater planet…

And he’d adjusted; not worried about it too much.

Right up until he was on Archeopia, which had a very light gravity. With a population that flew, so they hadn’t bothered to develop or install the graviton fields that allowed Tony’s disc to work.

When Tony stumbled under the light gravity, he’d launched himself off the side of the flet where they’d docked. Which was supremely bad, since the flet was a good eighty stories up, at least, and while the gravity was light, he would still fall eventually. And he’d already been warned that the jungle under the canopy was a dangerous place, filled with wild and poisonous beasts.

Peter’d been forced to rescue him; diving after Tony with those rocket boots on, red leather coat flapping in the breeze. He’d looked like a space angel to Tony as he dropped into position and caught Tony up in a princess carry.

“My hero,” Tony said, with a nervous burst of laughter.

“Hey, sunshine,” Peter said. “You want me to carry you over the threshold, all you gotta do is ask.”

Tony was going to very carefully not think about that for a while; he was still enjoying the novelty of having a boyfriend that actually seemed to like him. Pepper had been great, but she was always exasperated with him and his antics. Steve… well, the less he thought about that, the happier Tony was going to be. Peter was different. He didn’t seem to mind anything, found Tony endlessly fascinating and amusing, and what was even weirder, he didn’t laugh at Tony when Tony wasn’t trying to be funny, which was a real switch up.

“I feel like Wendy in Peter Pan,” Tony complained, changing the subject.

Peter smirked. “I’ll never grow up.” And then he kissed Tony while they were flying, spinning them around in dizzying circles until Tony was clinging to him and panting for breath, legs wrapped around Peter’s hips.

The second thing he learned the hard way was that all alien food was not created equal.

Tony wasn’t sure how he could have forgotten to worry about that; Pepper, for instance, was allergic to strawberries, which was an earth person, unable to eat a food from earth. How messed up was that? He’d passed on some of the more exotic fare that Peter had tried to interest him in; anything that moved, wriggled, or was in some still alive while it was being eaten. (Drax in particular had a fondness for flarn, a writhing mass of something green and chewy and the less Tony thought about that, the better able he was to keep from heaving into the nearest trash receptacle.)

But plants, and the meats of some of the various planetary life-forms had been acceptable. He never ate anything that Peter didn’t also eat, which seemed safe. Mostly.

Except that it wasn’t, and apparently Tony was somewhat allergic to a meat-product called spoo, a pale blueish meat that had roughly the same consistency of tofu and was insanely delicious. And made Tony break out into unattractive patches of greenish rash across his throat and torso. He also started gasping for air and they had to cut their picnic short for a trip to the somewhat dubious comfort of the local hospital.

Or, whatever passed for it, thereabouts.

The medic; a brawny canary-yellow bird man, complete with feathers, beak and clawed feet, supposedly had studied some xeno-biology, but the first few treatment options actually made things worse, until Tony was covered in boils and vomiting every other hour. Gamora had rolled her eyes a few times and placed a call to the Nova medics on Xander. She and Rocket mixed a few things up, injected Tony in the ass with a needle the size of a screwdriver, which seemed really unnecessary, and given that Rocket was involved, Tony wasn’t quite sure it was accidental, but at least it cleared everything up in about an hour.

And the day might not have been a complete wash, except that apparently rumor had spread that Starlord was in port.

They were just headed back to the Milano, Tony leaning heavily on his boyfriend’s arm, when Peter brightened. “Delara?”

A blue-skinned woman with leathery scalp-tendrils was waiting for them, leaning on the wall outside the ship’s port. “Peter!” She strode over and hauled back, slapping Peter across the face, hard enough that Tony staggered and nearly fell over.

“Nice to see you, too,” Peter snapped, adjusting his jaw.

“Asshole,” she spat, and flounced away.

Peter watched her go, then shrugged, not even embarrassed. “Pretty sure I deserved that.”

A moment later, another -- woman? Person? Tony wasn’t sure, he’d never quite seen an alien like that, all tentacley and green and -- yelled at them. Peter groaned. “Lorrrrr’sa, darlin’,” he started, and the alien backhanded (back tentacled?) him with several limbs.

“Mighta deserved that, too,” Peter said. He shook his head, a series of little red welts popping up on his cheek where the suckers had gotten him.

“You’re very… popular,” Tony commented, dryly.

“Yeah, well,” Peter said -- was he blushing? “What can I say? I was waiting for you, but I wasn’t doing it alone.”

Tony laughed. “You don’t have to apologize to me for having your wild oats. I’m the very last person to complain about a thing like that.”

“At least you never banged an A’askvarian,” Peter said, gesturing back toward the octopoid. “You would not believe the places they have teeth.”

“Quill!” Another angry, female voice, and Peter turned, catching someone’s arm before they slapped him.

“No, Nebula,” Peter said. He shook her arm a few times and threw her backward. “Not from you. Go bother your sister. What are you even doing here?”

The woman, a blue-skinned cyborg with no hair, scowled at him, all teeth and anger. “I need a ride.”

“Oh, well, fuck, of course you can come on board, you psycho hose beast.”

“Thank you.” She stalked off toward the Milano.

“I didn’t mean it!” Peter cried after her, but she was already onboard.

“Gamora’s sister?” Tony guessed. He hadn’t met Nebula, but he’d certainly heard about her before, adopted daughter of Thanos, trauma for days, and a streak of I want to hurt Someone and I don’t Particularly Care Who It Is a mile wide.

“Yeah, she’s… a real sweetheart,” Peter said, in a voice that meant anything but. “You’ll like her.”

“I’m sure,” Tony said. They boarded the ship and Peter helped Tony back into their bunk, pulling the blankets down and all but tucking him in like a toddler.

“Sunshine,” Peter started, brushing a tangle of his brown curls out of his face, “look, I’m sorry.”

“For?”

“Worst. Date. Ever.”

Tony laughed. “Oh, honey, you don’t even come close,” he said. “It’s been a rough day, I’ll give you that, but… in the end, I’m still in space. And I’m still with you. And you, honey, you rock my world.”

Peter raised an eyebrow. “That’s a good thing?”

“That’s a good thing,” Tony said. “Now kiss me goodnight and we’ll try to make tomorrow better.”

Peter kissed him, tentative at first, as if he was still somehow afraid that Tony was going to reject him. God knew, it had been a bad day, a bad date, but that didn’t make Peter a bad boyfriend. Tony knew the difference. Peter was still there, still wanting to make things better, still wanting to be with Tony, no matter how high maintenance Tony was. He kissed like Tony was some fragile, dissolvable thing that might vanish at any moment.

Passion swirled to life in the few inches between their bodies and Tony pulled Peter closer, relishing the feel of Peter’s heat, the solid chest, strong arms, smooth skin. He let his hands wander, touching Peter’s back, his throat, the side of his face. It wasn’t enough, it was never enough. Peter was all masculine energy, human enthusiasm, and alien novelty all at once. Something Tony would never want to be without.

“Starlord,” he murmured, tempting Peter’s mouth into falling open, letting his tongue slip between Peter’s lips. “My starlord.” His fingers ached for the feel of Peter’s bare skin under him, over him, any way he could get it.

Peter was like the very best sort of temptation. Tony hadn’t had a drop of alcohol in the last three years, at least, but he was drunk on Peter’s taste. It was love; it had to be.

“You gonna blow my mind, sunshine?” Peter drew back a little, grinning.

“Among other things, yes.”

#spaceboyfriends #tony x peter #tony stark #peter quill #dating in space #worst date ever

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twentypercentofmygrade · 5 years

Text

* HEAR THE GENERAL !

ANNOTATION :

This story is probably the piece I’ve worked the most on in my entire life. It’s actually been through three drafts - one being the original, the second being a rewrite, and the third the version you see here (which is approx. 5000 words, not including the character list, I am so sorry).

Titling the work was a problem for me. I had no idea what I should call it, as it was still heavily in the process of being worked on. But the title of a work always carries something important to me - after all, it is the first glimpse that your characters get to shine in, and the first thing your readers see. It’s interesting to see how the title of the work is important. The idea is that, in the meeting, Ayaka is heard by nobody. Nobody cares about her input, especially not her sister, not that the soldiers will die. Nobody else stands up for them. And then, she travels all the way to the Falling Stars, and suddenly, they understand her, even if it’s never explicitly mentioned. The people in the end who end up saving her soldiers are actually the enemy. That was an interesting concept I wanted to explore – the way she changes, actually. This is the first story I have ever 1. completed 2. written drafts for and 3. actually enjoyed the character development for.

Ayaka really is one of my favourite characters, one of the best I’ve ever written. I think her personality can be a little bit hard to sense, but she truly is somebody who cares deeply and forms emotional connections with those she trusts, and when they drop her, she gets really hurt. Her banter is a cover-up for how she really feels, and that’s important to recognize. Besides this – I mean, there is actual character development in this story, in comparison to my longer works, where, even though they can be over 10k words, the characters seldom change, and I don’t care at all.

CHARACTERS :

The Kingdom of Ash.

Ayaka La'Veccia, princess of Ash & one of its top three commands

Avalon La'Veccia, queen of Ash, and Ayaka's sister

Mephistopheles, king of Ash (though he really doesn’t care what happens within the kingdom)

Artemis, the King’s lover

Kojiro Mayasato (mention only), late commander of Dagger Legion & lieutenant general within Ash’s army

Kiera Liu, lieutenant general within Ash's army and commander of Dagger Legion, Ash's second-most powerful legion. Kiera takes the place of Annia Liu since I didn’t want a whole bunch of characters with names starting with a

Tarquin Alamoei, one of Ash's top three commands & Ayaka's swordsmanship teacher

Xing Jian, one of Ash's top three commands, previously knight of the Falling Stars

The Kingdom of the Falling Stars.

Caelistis Asterin, queen of the Falling Stars

Adonis Xerxes, king of the Falling Stars

Kaimana Asterin-Xerxes, princess of the Falling Stars

Atticus Asterin-Xerxes, prince of the Falling Stars & one of Crusia’s top swordsmen/archers

Mitsuyuuki Tsukino, tactical advisor & one of the generals of the Falling Stars. Primarily fights with a sword

The Kingdom of the Winds.

Kylen Cardinal, king of the Winds

Andromeda Cardinal, queen of the Winds

They’re really the only couple that actually married for love in this story

content warning: brief mention of needles in wrists, blood/cut.

Her bare hands, without gloves, skate across the table, touching locations, numbers, troops and signals. The last time everyone was present in this room, they sent the cloud of ashes into the other kingdoms – they started a war in this room.

If Ayaka could have every legion commander in here, to properly allow Avalon to meet them, to know the people that she was sending into war, perhaps the situation would not have this kind of atmosphere, the same as it did now. Tensions were thick. Few things could be done now, but if she did not try, she would have already failed.

“We want to take Frell,” Her words are soft, but an undertone of anger followed them. Remain civil. “And the Falling Stars currently occupies it... I heard they formed an alliance with the Kingdom of the Sea. It would not be wise to take it.” The stakes are far too high. “We have a low chance of properly capturing it.”

Frell Wood would be a critical strategic point – it bordered the Grandiflora garden, and the Falling Stars was highly vulnerable from that point. When they were younger and less careful, Ayaka and Avalon would sneak through the forest to see the flowers bloom. Now, they had made plans to set fire to individual sections – it was a favourite place of their Queen Caelistis, and to hit the kingdom, they would harm their royalty’s mentality.

“General — ” Only one officer of the Legions received an invitation, Kiera Liu... One of Ayaka’s close friends within the military. Unfortunately (as recognized earlier, though it made no difference), the second Legion, Dagger, was still near half-power, and they’d lost their commander prior in the year. So Kiera was here in case Dagger Legion was really required to do something – she could give them adequate time to prepare.

“Shut it, both of you,” Avalon says, and though Ayaka had begun to turn to look at Annia, she glances back at her sister.

Ayaka’s hands trace the landmass that is Crusia – and then gently brushes over Ash’s borders. It is impossible not to be distracted – it was supposed to be a strategic meeting, but no advisors are present. Supposedly, everyone had an unbiased opinion on the matter, but the King and Queen must have the largest, or else it would be treasonous.

“Let’s continue,” Tarquin says, stepping forward with a raise of the eyebrow. His casual smile remains on his face, though all others in the room look neutrally sombre. “Quick recap – we need to take Frell. How? We know that the Falling Stars have three towers stationed there, but we can’t tell troop amounts, and – ”

“We might have that information, but we have nothing to do with it. We can’t mount an assault on them.” Ayaka interrupts. She has nothing against Tarquin, of course, for he is both her teacher and one of her closest friends, but she cannot allow Avalon to begin even considering a maneuver that could cost them thousands of lives on both sides. “Not with Dagger Legion at less than half-power… And a new intake.”

Her purple eyes swing, finding Jian. He is the only one in the entire room not born-and-raised in Ash – if he does have knowledge on the troop numbers within the Falling Stars, she now silently begs him not to say them. Avalon’s eyes find him as well (for a brief moment, Ayaka realizes that her hair and eyes are inverted with Avalon’s), and an eyebrow is raised, but nothing is said.

“Let’s continue,” she says, taking a step back from the table. Her fingertips feel smoothed from their constant movement upon the tabletop – she must control herself, including all of her nervous habits. “Now, there are too many problems with taking Frell directly. Are there any ways we can work around it?”

She can feel Avalon’s eyes on her, but when it comes to, at least, the safety of her soldiers, she will fight. If they go to war, she goes with them – but if possible, she will not let them die for no reason, not when there is another way for the situation to go.

Jian seems to take her words to heart, though he does not say anything. A flame on her pinky shot up in fear, and inconsistent with her confident manner, lights up the room slightly more, though she attempts to cover it with her hands.

“We may end up going, Ayaka.” Tarquin takes a glance towards her, wanting to make sense of the situation. Of course, she knows that it makes sense that they should. She knows that her sister views things coldly, cruelly. She has been scolded many times, saying that is the way to run a kingdom and that leadership can come in harsh terms. But she refuses to believe it. There must be some way for them to capture Frell without having to sacrifice people.

“Tarq is right!” Avalon’s voice is enthusiastic and high, off-putting. “Obviously, we have no other way. And besides, with the new intake, we simply have more people, hm? They wouldn’t have registered if they weren’t willing to sacrifice something, I’m sure.”

Avalon turns to Jian - he seems to shrink away slightly. Ayaka knows - he had quite a close friend within the Falling Stars. His name is Vesryn, yes? He would have been raised in an environment and surrounded by people who dislike Ash, who always put them down. But Ayaka would say that he has accustomed well, that he has worked well within Ash. “Have you any other information? On the Stars,” Avalon asks, with a soft eyebrow-raising. “After all, you worked with them. Do tell what you know.”

Ayaka holds her breath. Jian would never avoid answering a command, or even a gentle inquiry. Avalon is the queen – he would never directly defy her.

“Ah - ...” His eyes dart around the room, before glancing back towards Avalon. “Trust me, Grandiflora Garden is not as open as you believe. There are walls to guard it - we need several different formations if we want to take Frell. We need a strategy, a good one. And a distr-”

“A distraction!” Avalon says, glancing towards Ayaka. “Do you hear that, dear sister? We ought to cause a distraction... and it seems we have half a legion to spare.”

Kiera’s eyes widen briefly, and it takes Ayaka a moment to realize exactly what her sister is implying.

“No. Absolutely not.” Ayaka’s hands heat up, and she attempts desperately to cool them down. Lighting the table on fire would be a terrible idea. “We will not send soldiers into an unwinnable battle. They will not die for nothing.”

She knows, truthfully, that sacrifice is a way of battle. You must lose those who have served for you to gain anything. When she kills, say, on the field of battle, she does not think twice. There is nothing but blood and adrenaline there - after all, she has never regretted a kill. But somehow, when it comes to those she has bonded with, trained with, even lost to when practicing, it seems quite different. She has never considered it before.

“Aya, you know that we can’t just leave Dagger behind! And what better way...” Avalon’s eyes, sharp, piercing, look at her. Long ago, Avalon gained the ability of telepathy - and one day lost it. It seems ... well, weird to Ayaka as to how someone could simply lose one of their most effective abilities, but supposedly, she has nothing to worry about.

“We can’t leave Dagger behind, you’re right. Because they’re still at a loss after their commander’s death! General Kiera has not been trained long enough to lead all five thousand of them into battle, let alone require a formation of them.”

“We can take them with us, of course! I would never imagine leaving such an irresponsible group of soldiers alone...”

The door opens softly, and Ayaka glances over just quickly enough to see a braid of hair, black enough to shine blue under the light, shuffle a smaller, brown-haired frame out the exit. Good. Jian helped her leave, then. She will need rest - she is still frail. Briefly, Ayaka hopes she will recover - for they have nobody else to promote, not within Dagger. There is so much to do and less than enough time to complete it.

“You cannot force Dagger to advance upon Frell,” Ayaka’s wording yet again becomes more formal, wishing to recreate some sense of civility between them. The meeting will soon be over – and Avalon, never willing to listen to her younger sister, will ignore Ayaka for the rest of the day unless someone decides that they should speak to one another.

Avalon pauses briefly. Ayaka has always loathed that their expressions are so similar, like a pause in a flower blooming. They are close to twins, no matter how far apart they are in age. It is only their features and their values that set them apart, it seems.

It does not take soon for a rebuttal. “The legion will agree with an order, especially one given by royalty,” Avalon responds and then glances towards Tarquin. “If Ayaka does not wish to give the order, then you are free to, Tarquin.”

“No, Ava – ”

“Enough! That is what will happen, Aya.”

Her voice stutters slowly to a stop in her throat as if something foreign, something higher, has prevented her from speaking. She is already walking the line of treason – it is only because of her rank and the fact that her presence is desperately needed within Ash (they are traditionally supposed to have seven top commands) that she is allowed to speak the way that she is.

“Avalon…”

Her hands, now cold, are tucked behind her, straightening her spine, for her to be able to show that she is confident. It is a lie – she is afraid, but there are other people besides the La’Veccias. Mephistopheles & Artemis have already left – of course, they have.

“No, Ayaka. You will inform Kiera of this, and there will be no more of it. I don’t wish to speak of it again. Do not make me take more drastic measures than this reprimand. Go.”

Avalon turns, facing her back towards Ayaka, and before another breath can be taken within the room, she has disappeared. Tarquin stays briefly before glancing downwards and leaving, right behind the queen.

The flame, curling, showing the smallest amount of light, changing the shadows of the room, and emitting tiny bits and pieces of smoke, does not extinguish now, no matter how aggressively Ayaka attempts to destroy it.

Briefly, she stands alone in a room, surrounded by maps and different photographs, documentation of previous battles won. They have completed so much in the past year – past few years, even.

In some of the earlier ones, Kojiro was still alive. How distant that seems now. It has only been a short few months since his death. A death the Winds kingdom caused, actually. She does not have to hold a grudge against the Falling Stars because the Winds is allied with them. But she will not let her soldiers die. No matter how much she adores her sister, cares for her and needs her there, she must disobey even the highest orders sometimes. After all, some things feel like a need more than a want.

The flame that curls around her finger is a bright red, strangely coloured. It has never been that dark before, though she knows that. Her powers have always been connected to her thoughts, but never this closely before.

Ignoring it, she curls her hand ‘round the fire and moves out of the room, the last to leave. If she could, she would never spend another day in that room.

She notices Kiera as she walks up the stairs, though she does not speak towards her. Any words now could endanger someone she cares about, someone she wishes to be there for. It is impossible that she would even consider it. But she walks upwards, towards her room. Nervousness follows her, covering her like a soft storm.

Grasping the collar of her uniform, she takes the last step and gently opens her door. It does not creak - when had that been fixed?

Ayaka pauses in the doorway, waving her hand. Fire shoots up from previously snuffed out torches, and she smiles, before touching a bag that laid softly on the floor. It had been from previous campaigns, towards a forgotten land. She grasps the fabric – it is soft, and worn. She had not expected it to be so worn out, or to be so foreign to her. It has only been a year since then.

“Oh well,” She said, picking it up. Tossing it onto her bedsheets, she moves through her room, touching various items and objects. Whenever she feels one that could be important, she places it in the bag – but no food, provisions, nothing like that. She will make do along the way, and besides, the Falling Stars is no more than a few hours away. It is nearing the Highsun, the center of the day, and she has quite some time before she has to return.

She reties her hair – it is incredibly difficult to deal with, and gets tangled in her face. It seems final, for she would never have her hair up for any kind of royal or formal meeting. She ‘looks more beautiful’ when it’s down, though then it’s impossible to control. The red goes up, and her cloak comes off the wall. Though she will not get cold, not with her abilities, the weather is near the verge of changing, especially when she crosses territories. A stretch of the Kingdom of the Sea lies between Ash and the Falling Stars, and she will, if she wishes to get there, cross it, even though she fears the water.

She has never, in her life, crossed the borders, not unless it has been for a mission. Never has she been invited to any diplomatic meetings - not unless it is to guard her sister, instead of going by her own free will. Ah, well. It will end up being a new experience, and she is in desperate need of some of those.

Gently, she slings the bag over her shoulder. This version of the uniform is quite perfect, really - the general insignia is the most variable within the four kingdoms, and this version of her clothing only carries the colonel rank. It was originally a precaution, in the same form her sister has - not wearing the crown into public unless making a formal appearance, and even then, magic conceals her most prominent features.

Ayaka’s abilities are less useful, but she will make do.

“Hm, where is it...” She runs her fingers along the underside of her desk, and then presses a tiny button there, rushing to place her fingers on a stone to the direct right of her bookcase. A small passage rumbles from the rocks, a place for her to leave. She swears it is magic, for nobody else seems to now. It is a blessing only she has.

She slips through it - it leads her directly to the border. Her hands brush against the dirt walls, her own delicate digits covered by gloves. She did not bring her gear, the gear that enhances her strength and typically covers her hands and places needles in her wrists to make her stronger. She could not find it - perhaps it was Avalon’s fault. Removing a strength only creates a weakness, doesn’t it?

But the path is long, and it takes her quite a while before she reaches the end of the long, winding tunnel. It was accompanied by torches for quite a ways, but she produced a flame, for extra light, extra heat. Ayaka can hear the rain, the gentle rain, that her sister has always adored, and she pulls her cloak further over her face.

Keep your head down... do not let the water get on your hands.

If it does, she will no longer be able to produce flames - which are, at the moment, her only source of protection.

She touches the dirt again, and it parts, creating a staircase. It shifts under her feet as she moves slowly, efficiently, with the grace of one who has spent far too long moving. What time might it be?

Finally, her eyes graze the surface, watching the rain pour as it pounds against the grass, which begs for it, requires the water. And though Ayaka would never willingly venture into the rain, she must - it is likely only raining in the Kingdom of the Sea.

She moves quickly - it is only a tiny corner of the Sea that she must cross. In ten minutes, she is done moving forward, and the rain grows steadily lesser the more steps she takes.

The monotony allows her quite some time to think.

Kojiro. That battle was far too long ago, that she is sure that most, including Tarquin and Jian, have forgotten about him. But she will not.

The war had proceeded for too long, but then, and Kojiro, self-sacrificing stareyes, had decided that it would be necessary to take upon himself a right of Tek Savas, instituted and created by the god Hao. He had invoked a rite that nobody had completed in a long time, for it was risky. It was single combat – there was no interference from either side.

A tear rolled down her cheek - similar to the rain, and Ayaka shifts her head forward to disguise her face. She was quite confident during that meeting, for she knew that more than half the room was on her side. But as the rain finishes, and she places her foot on the territory of the Falling Stars, she feels helpless - seemingly alone.

Tek Savas meant single combat, meant a duel. Violence between only two. Typically completed near Highsun, the challenge had to be issued under the name of one of the gods. Most invoked Hao, for most challengers were Ashir, but not all were. Fion had been heard several times as well. Both gods were similarly involved.

She moves more, now. It has taken her near two hours to get from her room to hear, though it is far, and she does not blame herself. It is not as if it is close. But she is guarded and careful, and she moves efficiently.

"Hm, this is ... disappointing." She expected such grandeur from the Falling Stars, so much extravagance that they are lacking. Briefly, making fun of them makes her laugh, makes her feel better.

Lieutenant General Kojiro Mayasato died at Joursn, Falling Stars, on our dearest day, of blunt force trauma. Allow us to thank him for his sacrifice.

A sacrifice for nothing.

The same as this would be. The Falling Stars would have slaughtered them all if they marched on Frell. She could not, would not lose someone for these reasons again. Avalon did not form deep relationships with anyone - she would never understand.

The palace within her sights gives her a sigh of relief. Their palace is certainly beautiful, she knows. She has visited it before, masked, presenting as someone with blue hair (in contrast to a natural red) and softer eyes, less of a guard than a friend. It is beautiful, but primarily from the inside. It boasts nothing incredibly special except for its front doors - which, in turn, are guarded by a small grouping of guards.

She approaches the one she sees with the highest-ranking insignia - a colonel. They would allow a colonel to keep track of such a group? In Ash, any commander assigning that role would have been deemed incompetent, but still, she approaches him. He towers over her, not knowing who she is.

“Colonel,” She begins, gently slinging her pack off of her shoulders. She removes her familiar crest - the La’Veccias - and hands it to him. “Make an announcement. If the king and queen aren’t available, I’m going into the room either way.”

He must learn that she has important information for them to learn, and that they must learn it soon. The campaign will begin tomorrow morning, and she does not have enough time to come again tomorrow if she cannot speak with them today.

Briefly, his eyes contain the faintest trace of horror, for Ash has not been onto the land of the Falling Stars peacefully for quite some time. But a young soldier takes the rest from his hand, and glances towards her. “You’re nothing like what I’ve seen before, but come with me.”

That colonel really is incompetent.

But she follows the young soldier, removing her hood from her face. The throne room is not that far, she supposes, but it is not close, either. Hao, when she lies in her room later today, she will sleep.

“Your Majesties, presenting Princess Ayaka of Ash...”

Of course, he knows her name. She has been here before, and she has spoken to the kingdom before, and, if she is honest, she may have even crossed blades with him or his friends before. “Thank you,” she says, and he bows his head briefly before glancing towards the King and Queen. Their children are there, something she had not expected, but that seems alright. Kaimana and Atticus are harmless, after all. Neither of them is anywhere close to age as she.

“Princess Ayaka,” Adonis says, standing. He seems perfectly apathetic, a balance of emotional and disconnected, as expected of a king. “We were not expecting... someone from Ash today, at least not peacefully.”

They already knew we were to attack?

“Perhaps not, Adonis,” Any formal title seems vague to her now, besides a rank. She does not spend as much time adding elegancies to her script, no, she wishes to complete her point. “But I believe that it is crucial that you -”

“Ash will attack today, hm? I have known it already, several weeks ahead. You do not understand our ways here.”

How did they already know? Several weeks ago... three weeks ago, they had had intake. Two weeks ago, they had completed basic training. The only notable things that had happened recently were a sparring with Tarquin, which she had unadmittedly lost, and the funeral of Kiera’s sister.

“For Fion’s sake, Father, let her speak.” Kaimana’s voice is slightly accented, more than her father’s. She seems strong, though her hair touches her hands, resting on thes ides of her throne..

Ayaka tsks, swallowing her fear. “Ah, thank you, Princess -” She pauses ever so briefly, wishing that she could be telepathic. “But it’s good that you’re aware - however, I don’t believe you know that one side of the battle will be happening as a sacrifice. Whatever oracle you are using, it cannot know everything.”

The brief glance of confusion she receives from him is confirmation enough, though it disappears. The royals have some skills, she supposes, though she tilts her head slightly and raises her eyebrows. Her very expression is startling – she seems nearly happy, though she truly is the opposite of that. Half of fighting is in the mind.

She shows her real face here, and that is her greatest problem, it seems. She doubts that she will be able to use her disguise as a colonel again. But all in the line of duty – she needs to show that she is at least trustworthy to them. Her feet take her closer as she moves towards the throne, and clenches her hands, bringing them behind her. Soft light dances across the fabric of her cloak as her hands begin to heat, and she forcibly steals heat from them, throwing it into the air with abandon. The Falling Stars does not know about her powers.

“Do not march onto Frell Wood. My sister – ” Her voice cracks, breaking. Avalon and Ayaka had previously been alright. What would come of this? Treason… betrayal of the king and the queen. She had risked so much coming here – if the Falling Stars… she would not entertain that possibility. She would get it done, one way or another. “Queen Avalon, she believes she can take Frell. With input from our army… we know we cannot. All we can do is defend,” She adds hastily, as if she believes the Falling Stars will march upon them. But they have always been a kingdom that defends, not attacks – unlike Ash.

She pleads to their sense of empathy, though they look bored. She does not necessarily have much emotion upon her either – it is difficult to show it, especially when it comes to speaking with the enemy.

“Princess Ayaka,”

Of course, Caelistis, ever the formal one. Wishes to remain proper, speak with eloquence and grace. Ayaka already knows what she will say.

“Princess, we were aware that Ash was going to attack Frell several weeks ahead, as Adonis said already. You are Ash’s highest military commander, yes? I believe that you, of all people, would understand – in war, every opportunity given to hurt the enemy is a good one that should be taken.”

The Queen had never seemed so cold before – it catches Ayaka off guard, for she expected the queen to be the softer one in comparison to the king. Her thoughts are shorter, she is planning something. There is only so much that can be done at the moment, but she cannot fail this. She travelled far too long for that, firstly, and she is determined to save lives, if she can.

“Queen Caelistis, you prove a good point - ”

Convince her, or convince the prince & princess…the king will follow. Or they may make choices…

Perhaps if she could speak with Mitsuyuuki, or any other advisor. They would see. Of course they have met people in the line of duty that have lost people. But he seems nowhere to be found. She has always despised royal audiences, even when requesting something from her sister. “However, I am sure you’re aware of the amount of people that Ash has lost, due to our armies’ Tek Savas quite some time ago. Atticus, actually- ” She turns to him with accusing eyes, “Allowed our finest legionary commander to be killed. I’m sure you’d understand – after all, I know Atticus works with your military as well, no? How would you like it if he died in a military maneuver, uselessly? We cannot beat you.”

That sinks into her – her own declaration. She is weak, she is weak. She dislikes the feeling – it crawls over her like vines, the tangling suffocation and smell of what could be a wisteria blossom. She has no words for it, and she therapeutically rubs her wrist, touching small wounds that she received from being touched by those needles, the ones in her gear, for so long. No enhancements now – any movements she makes will be slightly slower, slightly less powerful. Not even just slightly – she has never lost a single fight with her gear on, not hand-to-hand. The weapon she carries with her now is a simple knife, meant for warding off angry villagers, not for fighting.

The royal family is silent, and she moves. Her reflexes are quicker than her body, and she seems Atticus rising from far away. He clashes with her, blade cutting into her hand. She grasps the edge – he has sharpened it, this sword of his. But it will not harm her, it isn’t as bad as she believes. “Now, now. Just because I attempted to attack your family doesn’t mean you get to draw blood.”

Her response is childish, but she wants to show them something. “I came without my…enhancement, as you can tell.” The hand not grasping the sword raises, and she turns it. “Honestly, you four, did you really think I’d come to kill you without having everything? I’m not that disorganized.”

Her attitude is a bluff, though part of it is true. They will never trust her – after all, she is a person from Ash, and not just a person – royalty, military. But she needs them to trust her at least this little bit. “I would have killed Atticus already, though I suppose it is a bit cliché of me to say.”

She steps away from him and winces (though it is brief, she is sure that at least Kaimana and Atticus both saw her pain), pressing one hand onto the wound. It cuts into the sensitive skin near her joints, though the majority of her hand is fine.

Adonis is silent, as is Caelistis. She cannot be that stunning, can she?

Briefly, she touches her wound again, and nearly hisses, slightly afraid that they will simply order guards on her, and she will be unable to fight them off. So she turns – she has come to say what she needs to say. The determination she had is gone – she knows them will listen, after all, so what is the point of staying?

As she reaches the door and her hand rests on it, gentle, Adonis’ voice catches her.

“Ah – in one week, at Highsun, come speak with me in the Kingdom of Winds. Kylen and Andromeda have decided that they will be hosting a meeting, and though Ash has not decided to be a part of it, I believe that it would be important to have you attend.”

She does not answer, simply leaves.

She will go.

She accepts her family crest from the guard, who smiles at her. She steps out into the small pathway that leads into the palace’s doors, and she walks. She moves away from it all, til she finds herself in a strange little clearing, one that she has not said before.

Rain gently touches her lips, and she smiles.

They heard her.

#[ &. LAND OF CRUSIA ]#[ &. ELISE'S SHORT STORIES ! ]#[ AALIYAH EDITED THIS ?? ]

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youreghanamissme · 7 years

Text

Ch-Ch-Changes

9/1/2017

I've been back a few weeks, and life is not what I expected. I've never been more of a recluse. It's normal to need a few days to readjust to village life after a long period of travel, but since I've returned, I seldom leave my room unless it's to go to my latrine, go on a walk-jog, or buy chop. I'm lonely and alienated and melancholic at site, but more on that later. September is upon us (cue Earth, Wind & Fire), and so much has changed in my life that I'm a little stunned.

I came back to site to hear that the Orange Flesh Sweet Potato (OFSP) vines distribution went well! The vines are now in the ground, despite a few hiccups. Third time's the charm because RING didn't pull another fast one on me. We actually got the vines to my community this year, and my women will have Vitamin A -rich potatoes for consumption and for market in a few months! I've been trying to visit the farms where they're planted to check up on them, but it's been tricky to locate my counterpart. His phone is spoiled, and it's harvest time. Everyone is pretty much at the farm all day, every day, and it looks like dropping in at his compound and asking his sisters to let him know I'd like to meet up with him when he's free is not the best way to go about it.

Harvest time means the village is mostly deserted for the bulk of the day, but it also means the rains are still upon us! I returned to a room full of mold (it's the moisture and the heat and the fact that things have just been sitting there untouched), but that's the silver lining to being gone for so long. It's vexing to have to clean up, but on the bright side: YOU HAVE TO CLEAN UP! And make it a deep clean. So I thanked past-Diana for buying vinegar (I originally bought it for pickling, but it's multi-functional!) and antiseptic and got to work.

The rains brought with it a lusher, green landscape, as if transformed over night. It makes bike rides very dreamy and pastoral. The herds of cows are now allowed to graze freely which means wagashi (deep-fried farmer cheese) in the evenings! Unfortunately, this time of the year also means more mosquitoes, ants, flies, and rotting remains of smashed frogs on the dirt roads.

Other developments? I've picked up the ukulele again. Sort of. I brought it back with me from America. I didn't pack it when I left for Ghana the first time because I didn't think I'd actually practice. I read on reddit that if you didn't really practice it in America, bringing an instrument to Ghana (or any country as a PCV) was a waste of luggage space.

Well, the PCV who posted that is not me, and I should have pulled a Roxette and listened to my heart because I want to practice. Being in Ghana may be the motivation and time and space I need. I bought my uke when I was in third year of university. I had just gotten out of a relationship and thought I was going to channel all that sad energy into happy music. PFFT! How naïve. I've never played anything but the recorder, and I didn't even play that well. I remember quite vividly how my third grade teacher Mr. Moots asked me to stop during class practice one day because I was screechier than the rest of the lot. I wasn't just throwing us off key, I took the wheel and gave it to Thelma (or was it Louise?). “Practice at home, please, and then join us next time.” Oh, yeah?! Well Hot-motherfucking-Crossed-Buns to you too, Moots! I ended up pretending to play the recorder during class practice for the rest of the year. That's actually kind of sad in retrospect.

You hear stories of Tiger Moms putting their kids through piano lessons and violin practice. Um... yeah. Have you met mine? I was part of the Going Home Club and president of the Clean Plate Club. I don't know the difference between a G, C, E, or A note, so when I got a ukulele and a tuner I was at a loss. Didn't know what the hell I was doing, and I've been fumbling with it every since. Doesn't help that I've lived in flats half my life and was (am) embarrassed to be practicing badly for all my neighbors and flatmates to hear. But when I got home to America I figure that Woody (my uke, so named by a former flatmate. He's not even made of real wood, I gather. I think I peeled off a Made in China sticker a few years back too) could continue to sit in storage unused OR he can be picked up and prodded at a few times by myself in Ghana. Maybe I'll even earnestly practice... which is, actually, the goal.

My left fingertips aren't the only thing I'm trying to train. I also signed up for a 10K. I know—DEMENTED, right? I hate running, but I felt inspired after hanging out with my friend Sheena in America. She talked about how she had ran the Lake Merritt (Oakland) 10K recently. She didn't really train for it, but she just felt like doing it. And that made me think of the Accra International Marathon. I'm no marathoner, but there are smaller running events like the 5K, relay, half-marathon, etc. within it. I had been playing with the idea of signing up for the 10K since I first heard about it. I've done a few 5K's, and I knew that wasn't challenging enough. Relays require groups of people, and for myself, running is a very solitary thing. The universe and I know that I will shrivel into a desiccated vegetable husk if I attempt a half-marathon with my “I Hate Running” body, so the best choice would be a 10K.

I initially decided against the idea because it's in Accra. Never mind that I loathe Accra, it's so far from home. Besides, I want to be a Nutrition IST trainer. Last year, the IST was right before the marathon, and I had no idea 1) when the In-Service Training was being held this year, and 2) whether or not I was actually approved to be a trainer (I've gotten a symbolic wink almost a year ago, but that could also be interpreted as a twitchy eye in the world of Peace Corps administrative decisions). I casted the idea aside, but it remained, floating in and out of consciousness in the corners of my mind.

How cool would it be to take part in such an event in Ghana, while you are serving as a PCV? Just to do it for yourself, y'know? Not for the facebook likes or whatever that screams “Hey, Look! Me! How cool, yes?”, but because you were there and it happened and you participated. My conversation with Sheena immediately returned the 10K to my mental front-burner. I knew immediately that I'd regret it if I didn't sign up and at least try. So I gave them my $40 (Dollars, dude, but it's all for a good cause. The marathon benefits a charitable organization in Ghana), and now I'll have to figure out how I'm going to jog/walk-jog a 10K. I've been trying to practice, but most of the struggle is getting out the door and committing to the idea of running.

I've made some progress, but it's slow going. Lately it's been a “one foot in front of the other” kind of deal and a “think about how great it feels when you're done!You did good, kid!” kind of motivation. Once, my ipod battery died, so I made the choice to listen to a podcast while jogging. Do you need a pair of ice skates? Because hell may have frozen over. If you told me that I could more than less jog while listening to Levar Burton reading me a short story presented by Audible where the stories transport you to another dimension, even while sitting in traffic (TM), I would have laughed so hard that my tea would have sprayed through my nose. But it happened. I'm hoping that side of me sticks around until October 28th, the day of the marathon. Or, y'know, as they say in Ghana: pray for me.

There's been a lot of changes, but the biggest and most difficult modifier in my life? One of my best friends in service returned to America prematurely. I know it's all for the best, but I've been emotionally eating and binge-watching television shows off my hard drive so that I don't think about it and erupt in tears (again). Unlucky for me, I finished most of my America reserves before it happened. The granola, jerky, chocolate, chips, and cookies have long been devoured. The only things I have left are prunes and Parmesan cheese packets (the ones you get at the pizza parlor... who knew you can buy it in bulk off Amazon?), so I've made do... a very, very gassy do. Friends leaving is something they don't really talk about during Pre-Service Training. Hell, it happens every few months as one group leaves and a new one comes in. I've said goodbye to so many people, and I will continue to do so as some of my favorite Agric PCV's are the next folks to go (and then it's my intake group!). But it's different because she and I were in the same cohort. We've been part of a close group of friends since the beginning, and we've carried it on as Northerners and market buddies and support systems... that to think that she will not be here to finish service together breaks my heart. It still feels slightly surreal... like, I’m going to see her next week. But I won’t. It's selfish, I know. It's not like she's dead, yet I feel like I'm in mourning. I'm sad, mad, and need another mug of wine and spoonful of Parm. But that's the beauty of Peace Corps. It's not goodbye. There's still America.

I truly believe some of the people you meet in service are destined to be lifelong friends. Pre-PC friends aren't going to completely understand what it was like; all the shit—figurative and literal—you go through in service. But your PC people will. And you won't have to spend an hour explaining context. They'll just get it. Peace Corps is like one big national club you join. Membership is for life, even if you didn't finish or you served more than once. And then when you find yourself in New York or Chicago or Bum-Fuck-Somewhere, you have an old friend to meet up with. And it's also the best excuse to recruit your friends for a cross-country reunion road trip.

It may already be September, but this year is my year of intentional change. It's utterly saccharine and cliché, but life is really how you react to everything that happens to you and around you. I've been working on internalizing the sentiment that life is not a race; that you don't need to have acronyms that follow your last name or go to grad school to be successful or happy. It's a disconcerting thought because we've been conditioned by American society that you should have some semblance of your whole life figured out and a 401K started by thirty, or something to that effect. It's hard not to be a sheep, but conformity is what made Baby Boomers a repressed generation.

Next month I'll be closer to thirty than I am to twenty, and I will be none the more inclined to return to school and start a career with roots and a network that will one day lead to tenure or attending Sheila's divorce party or something. I'm still trying to figure out what path to take next and have been wavering between the idea of studying for the GRE or moving to Baltimore (or somewhere with snow) when I get back; of WOOF-ing across all of South or Central America or doing Peace Corps Response (or some other international aid job... USAID, holla at yo grrl?); of signing up for community college courses for nursing or hiking the Appalachian Trail... I don't know what I want to do, and that's OK in this moment, tomorrow night, and maybe next month too.

I've not been back a full month, and so much has already changed. Some of it great, some of it not so much... but all of it challenging in the best sense. I can eat another fistful of prunes (not many left at this point), and I will. But I won't do that forever. I'm going to leave my room. I'm going to work on those unfinished borehole grants. I'm going to go on a jog (ugh). I'm going to meet up with friends. I'm going to do more School Health Education Program (SHEP) lessons when school recommences. I'm going to master Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star on my uke. I'm going to be kinder to myself and to others... because change and challenges happen all the time. We just have to rise above it and try to be OK because It'll all be OK in the end. If it's not OK, it's not the end. That's apparently John Lennon. Now enough waxing on quasi-philosophic lofty thoughts. Forget about the pressure; life is short. Let’s Dance to some Bowie and Queen (okay, no more bowie refs, RIP)

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#pcghana #howiseepc #ghana #peacecorps #ofsp #bowie #changes #10k #ukulele #existentialcrisis #friendship #rpcv

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socalsojourner · 6 years

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Las Vegas - Things to do with kids - Part 3

Want even more things to do with kids in Las Vegas? I think some of these will keep ‘em happy - I’ve done a lot of these and they are really cool:

SlotZilla Zip Line

SlotZilla at Fremont Street Experience is a 12-story zip line and is one of the best things to do in Vegas. There are two ways to fly, the lower "Zipline" and upper "Zoomline."

The Stratosphere Tower

At 1,149 feet, the Stratosphere Tower is the tallest freestanding observation tower in the United States and the tallest building west of the Mississippi River. From the observation decks you'll enjoy panoramic views of the Las Vegas Strip and the Las Vegas valley. Thrill seekers can enjoy excitement over 100 stories above the ground on the Big Shot thrill ride and the High Roller roller coaster. For the less daring, there is the Strat-O-Fair midway attraction. The Stratosphere Tower is located in the Stratosphere hotel

The Toy Shack

FreeThe Vegas Toy Shack specializes in vintage toys from the 80’s. Transformers, GI Joe, TMNT, M.A.S.K and much more. The Toy Shack is located at the Fremont Street Experience

GameWorks

FreeBlast away at GameWorks. GameWorks has 47,000-sq. ft. entertainment with over 250 games, the world's tallest free-standing rock-climbing structure, a full-service restaurant, and two snack bars. GameWorks is located Town Square.

High Roller

This 550-foot tall observation wheel has a 360 degree view of Las Vegas. Instead of those old two seaters that seem to rock back and forth precariously, you'll be stepping into a state-of-the-art air-conditioned pod that's roomy enough for 40 people. You may walk around and take pictures from every possible angle. Tickets here.

Eiffel Tower Experience

The Eiffel Tower Experience, located at the Paris hotel, is one of the top things to do for Las Vegas visitors. Take a glass elevator to the 50th floor for a panoramic view of Las Vegas from this half-scale replica of the Eiffel Tower. Along the way, your tour guide, will point out can't-miss Vegas landmarks.

Marvel Avengers STATION

Dive into the world of The Avengers, where you can explore the history and scientific origins of the Marvel characters. From interactive minigames to exhibits featuring Captain America's uniform, to a green-screen photo experience with several Avengers-themed backgrounds. Best yet might be the interactive experience that allows guests to try on Iron Man's suit and go for a drive via virtual reality. Tix here.

Hot Air Balloon Rides

If you always wanted to go up, up and away on a hot air balloon ride, now's your chance. For 180 minutes, you’ll soar like an eagle on THE scenic tour of Las Vegas. Your tour also includes a snack and champagne toast (for those over 21). Vegas Balloons.

ATV Hidden Valley

Suitable for beginners and experienced riders, this ATV tour takes you to places in the Mojave Desert seldom seen. Come prepared for adventure -- this is the longest ATV adventure offered in Southern Nevada. You will be escorted in a van to the staging area in Jean, Nev., where your ATV will be waiting. After a short safety briefing, you will begin a two-hour ride through rugged desert and mountain terrain, riding through historic Hidden Valley, near extinct lava beds and across dry lakes. You also will enter the rugged McCullough Mountain Range for more trail riding. This tour covers anywhere from 20 to 50 miles of desert terrain, depending on group size and riding level. This tour includes bottled water. The morning tour includes a stop in Primm, Nev. for a short break. Note: Guests must wear closed-toe shoes. Sandals and high-heeled shoes are not allowed. Hats and sunglasses are recommended. For cooler temperatures, a long-sleeved shirt or jacket is recommended. Tix here.

Zero 1 Desert Adventures

It's time to get dirty, and one of the best ways to do it is off-roading through the Mojave Desert in a Polaris RZR XP1000. After your complimentary drop-off at Base Camp, there's a short training course that will polish your driving skills to expert levels. You've got a choice of a two hour, three hour, half day, or seasonal night tour that'll have you riding through the most scenic spots Vegas has to offer. The terrain is full of surprises, but that's not a big deal because your new driving skills will prepare you for all the rugged terrain Mother Nature throws your way. From twisty sand-washes to high-speed trails, you'll experience all the unspoiled desert has to offer. All the gear is provided, so the only thing you need to bring is your adventurous spirit. You'll even get to wear a state-of-the-art helmet with a PCI radio system so all your friends can hear your trash-talking as you leave them in the dust. Tix here.

Dig This

Perfect for the big kids at heart (14 years and older), this tour will have you operating a a state-of-the-art bulldozer or hydraulic excavator. After a brief safety and equipment orientation, you'll be given a hard hat, safety vest and radio. Once you climb aboard, you'll be operating an excavator or bulldozer in no time. And don't be intimidated by all the switches and gears. An experienced instructor will talk you through step-by-step via radio. In no time you'll be rolling gigantic boulders across the dirt, excavating trenches, stacking tires and playing "excavator basketball." Choose either the excavator or bulldozer ride, both missions are challenging and fun. With five acres of a super-sized sand box, you'll definitely have room to get down and dirty. Whether you grew up reading "Mike Mulligan and His Steam Shovel" or watching the cartoon show "Bob the Builder," Dig This will soon have you exploring the fun of this adult sand box. Tix here.

Pole Position Raceway

Whether you're a novice or experienced racer, Pole Position Raceway will send your heart racing. Located just off the Las Vegas Strip, this state-of-the-art, 60,000-square-foot facility features indoor race karts that zoom faster than any of their kind in the country.

The racing karts are approximately 18-horsepower and capable of going up to 45 miles per hour. These electric-powered karts are also environmentally friendly, emitting no exhaust.

Your adventure begins when you choose from a variety of packages -- including 2-Race Adult, 2-Race Junior, 3-Race Adult or All-You-Can-Drive packages. Join the ranks of celebrities like Star Wars creator George Lucas, Steelers quarterback Ben Roethlisberger and NASCAR champion Kyle Busch, as you navigate the quarter-mile track through long straightaways, hairpin turns and other unique elements. Busch and seven-time AMA Supercross champion Jeremy McGrath are part of the team that brought Pole Position Raceway to Las Vegas.

At the end of each race, you'll receive a scorecard, which includes details like your lap time, position and overall race stats. Compare your results with other racers to see where you stand.

Pole Position Raceway offers an arcade, which includes a variety of racing games. The upstairs game room features two pool tables, a pinball machine, plasma TVs and a great aerial view of the track. Catch the excitement below and pay attention to how the experts execute the tricky turns.

Guests can stroll through the facility and see race cars, motorcycles, helmets and racing suits on display worn by professionals, including Dale Earnhardt Sr. Pole Position Raceway also sells memorabilia, including T-shirts and hats, so you can take a piece of your experience with you.

There is a complimentary shuttle service between 11:00 a.m. and 5:00 p.m. daily (subject to availability, guests must call to confirm availability).

Flightlinez Bootleg Canyon Zipline

You've probably had dreams of flying, right? But did you ever think of actually doing this (and not by plane or helicopter) on your next Vegas trip?

Flightlinez Bootleg Canyon's zip-line tour in Boulder City gives you the chance to "fly" and experience the beauty of the Southwest desert mountains.You'll sit in your own paragliding harness that's suspended from cable wires. Travel from one point to another by flying over the desert ecosystem from the top of Red Mountain. Some riders have reached speeds of 50 miles per hour.

After a brief safety orientation, your guides will take you on a quick drive up to the canyon. From here, you'll take a half-hour hike uphill. Upon reaching your destination, you'll coast through four runs, each providing a different kind of experience, including a 450 foot plunge. Each run's takeoff platform provides a unique view of the mountainous terrain from a different elevation, showcasing the variety and beauty of the desert.

Nervous about flying? Don't worry -- the tour guides help make everyone feel comfortable. And if you're afraid of heights, let this be the ride that helps you overcome your fear.

West Rim and Hoover Dam

See two of the most amazing sights in the world on one tour -- the Grand Canyon and the Hoover Dam. Start out by driving through the scenic Mojave Desert, dotted with Joshua trees, visit the community of Dolan Springs and then head to the West Rim of the Grand Canyon. The West Rim displays the Grand Canyon's natural beauty with no crowds, no guardrails and stunning views as far as the eye can see.You will have a guide on the tour who will teach you about the history, culture, geology and flora of the Grand Canyon. Your transportation on the tour is a 10-passenger Tour Trekker, a vehicle that is ideal for sightseeing and off-road adventures. This tour also includes a two-hour stop at Hoover Dam, which includes photo opportunities of the Hoover Dam bypass bridge, the Colorado River and Lake Mead. You'll have time on your own to explore this engineering masterpiece including visiting the exhibit gallery and the observation room in the power plant that houses massive generators. Lunch is included on the tour.

DOME at Container Park

The glowing sphere in Container Park isn't just a pretty sculpture—it's a portal to other worlds. Inside The Dome, 4K Ultra HD video stretches across the ceiling, creating 360° imagery that immerses viewers in the worlds of dinosaurs, aliens, and more. The family-friendly theater is decked out with 25 reclining seats, which comfortably cradle guests as they bask in the all-consuming visuals of shows such as these:

Dinosaurs at Dusk: Travel back in time to the land of dinosaurs to watch Tyrannosaurus rex, Pteranodon, and Triceratops in their natural habitat.

Earth Defender: In this game, players take lasers in hand and venture into space to defend Earth against the evil Metamorphs.

Led Zeppelin: '70s kids can stare in awe as stunning visuals dance in time to classic Zep tracks such as "Kashmir" and "Stairway to Heaven.”

More Info here.

What's the Container Park? The Container Park, located in Downtown, is an open-air shopping center built from repurposed shipping containers. Located just a few blocks away from the Fremont Street Experience, this open-air shopping center filled with boutique retail shops, restaurants, and live entertainment.

The Container Park, located Downtown, is an open-air shopping center built from repurposed shipping containers. Located just a few blocks away from the Fremont Street Experience, this open-air shopping center filled with boutique retail shops, restaurants, and live entertainment.

Marking the entrance is a 55-foot metal preying mantis sulpture which shoots flames during special evening occassions. Once inside the park you'll be surrounded by restaurants, bars, and retail outlets.

55-Foot Preying Mantis The feature attraction for kids is the children's park. Located in mostly a shaded area (key for those hot summer months) the park contains a 33 foot tall slide sure to delight the adventurous child in your group as well as a NEOS playground, an electronic game that requires kids to chase after flashing lights. Also at the children's park are large foam blocks, sort of like giant sized Lego, for building, throwing and jumping on! There's a one-of-a-kind interactive play area where both children and adults can have fun and be active while exploring their creativity.

Be sure to try SasaSweets Chillspot's one-of-a-kind frozen treats and Sweet Spot Candy Shop's vintage and classic candy. Children are not permitted after 9pm, even still, Downtown Las Vegas doesn't get much more family-friendly.

Twilight Zone Mini Golf & Arcade

Looking for an affordable, yet extraordinarily unordinary experience in Vegas? Twilight Zone by Monster Mini Golf is a unique 10,000 sq. ft themed attraction featuring an extraordinary custom-designed indoor glow-in-the-dark 18 hole miniature golf course entertainment venue.

This course is surrounded by custom designed out-of-this-world props, phenomenal artwork & a live on-course DJ blasting music straight from the past right into the 5th dimension with trivia, contests, and prizes creating a destination embraced by locals, tourists, and earthlings of all ages!

The arcade features new and retro games such as Space Invaders, The Walking Dead and more.

Area 51 Tour

The truth is out there and now you can conduct your own search when you visit a number of famous locations frequented by UFO enthusiasts.

Your tour begins with a quick stop near McCarran International Airport where you can see the planes for Janet Airlines. This fleet of unmarked jets transports workers to and from Area 51.

Enjoy a scenic drive by SUV through the desert on your way to view some very unusual ancient Indian petroglyphs that resemble aliens. Next you will explore a mysterious dry lake bed, the site of a number of UFO sightings.

Back on the road, you'll enjoy a beautiful drive along the "Extraterrestrial Highway" on your way to the famous Little A'le' Inn and plenty of photo opportunities. This store and restaurant has been the host of numerous documentaries and movies including "Independence Day." Here you will find a wealth of information on this top-secret area. Captain Chuck Clark, an ex-air force captain, has written a manual on Area 51, which is available for sale.

After a great lunch, which includes "Alien Burgers" you will travel to the infamous black mailbox that marks the entrance to Area 51, a sacred meeting place for UFO enthusiasts. You arrive at the absolute perimeter of Area 51 after traveling through the Joshua Tree forest.

At Area 51's perimeter you will see guards, detection devices, listening devices and cameras mounted among the cactus. Signs reading, "Top Secret Military Facility, Keep Out, Use of Deadly force Authorized" are scattered along the facility's border and guards stand watch behind the tinted windows of their SUVs.

Enjoy this extreme tour to the world's most famous military facility and inspiration for the "X-Files."

#lasvegastravel #lasvegas #lasvegastourism #lasvegaswithkids

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doycetopia · 5 years

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Ravenloft Ironsworn, part 8, The Fortune Teller

The left fork of the road slants upward slightly, heading up into the mountains – it this road up which most of the spirits continue to travel.

The right fork slants slightly downward, toward what looks like the base of the mountains, rather than their peaks.

At the fork, I see Liqa, standing next Reinhardt. They are both staring silently down the righthand, downward traveling path, away from the route the other spirits have taken.

Reinhardt regards the smaller path solemnly, then turns to me. As I approach, the two spirits stare meaningfully at us, but say nothing. They look back at the smaller path, then turn – seeming exhausted – and trudge up the larger road the rest of the spirits have already taken, leaving me at the crossroads, with a decision to make.

I’m heading right. It seems like there are clues to be found there.

Okay.

The canopy of mist and branches overhead suddenly gives way to a clearing, near a wide spot in the river. Dry grass rustles in the wind. Colorful wagons are parked along the banks of a pool. The strains of an accordion mix and a somewhat desultory fiddle mix with the the wind in the trees. Several – perhaps as many as 10 – brightly clad figures surround a large, roaring fire. The seldom used road passes close by this camp.

As I approach, several voices call out “Hale from the fire, join our singing and break bread with us” – a traditional greeting among the mysterious travelers known as the Vistani.

I’m a little surprised to realize they know I’m here, as I’m still far from their firelight, but they seem friendly enough.

As we approach, they wave us in toward the fire and offer bread and a skin of wine. Ismark and Ireena accept both graciously – Ireena in particular seems comfortable with the fireside etiquette – no, that’s not fair – both of them are, but it’s more surprising that Ireena can tip the wineskin and get a perfect stream into her mouth. Ismark seems more the type, I suppose.

I accept both bread and wine, taking what hospitality requires, and ask the vistani why they make camp so close to the castle in the mountains. (The pool next to their camp lies near a waterfall that tumbles from the heights above, and Ireena glances at it often.)

They shrug it off a bit. “we know how to stay safe from night creatures,” they say, but at the same time none of them look up at the high cliffs where the castle looms far overhead.

“Also,” one adds, poking the fire and not looking at us directly, “Madam Eva told us we might have visitors tonight… If you are willing, she wanted to speak with you.”

They nod in the direction of one of the wagons. Not the largest, but the most brightly painted.

We spend a few more minutes with the Vistani, so as not to seem rude, then I use the lateness of the hour as an excuse to visit this Madam Eva quickly.

[Spooky fortune teller! Check off another Bingo box for creepy fantasy story]

Madame Eva doesn’t even look up when I enter the shrouded door of her wagon. She is shuffling and dealing an oversized deck of cards onto the small table in front of her.

[Gather Information – a strong hit, which I’m going to let ride throughout this scene, since it’s potentially chock-a-block with information both explicit and vagued-up.] “They said, at the fire, you wanted to talk with us,” I say.

“They lied to you, at the fire.” She glances up and catches my expression. “Oh, not about that, I did want to talk to you – all of you.” She shakes her head. “But the reason we don’t have to worry about von Zarovich is because some of our people do his bidding and have insured – they believe – the Family’s safety from his other minions.”

She makes a show of miming spitting to the side in disgust.

“Do they really believe he will leave your Family alone?” I ask, trying to seem unperturbed at being surrounded by enemies.

Eva shrugs. “He has, for several Generations. We are… useful… to him.” Again she looks disgusted.

Her eyes flicker up to us again, then the cards. “But I can see you will attempt to bring the monster down, and I would offer you what guidance I can,” she says, gesturing to the cards spread in front of her, and the stools on your side of the table.

“You view the future?” I ask, easing onto the leftmost stool. “I’m assuming in vague bits and pieces that we’ll understand only too late.”

She shrugs again, unoffended, while Ismark and Ireena join me. “The images I see are often incomplete, but combined with wisdom and insight and…” she smirks “a little bit of luck, they can help you.”

I tilt my head toward her. “Well, I appreciate any help I can get.”

“Excellent.”

She gathers up the cards, shuffles them, and has me cut the deck before she begins to deal out an array. She lays five cards out, face down, then slowly turns each over and studies each one before speaking.

“These may tell you more of the things you seek, and whisper what the monster’s ultimate goal might be…”

[And thus a new Oracle enters the game – the famous/infamous fortune telling straight from Ravenloft – I6. Sorting this draw out took QUITE a while.]

She indicates the first card… “This card represents an object of great power – a powerful force for good and protection against the forces of darkness. It is in a place of tranquility, a harbor for the mighty and powerful; a place of wisdom, warmth, and despair. Great secrets are there.”

Ireena whispers “fathers holy symbol that was stolen.”

I nod. “That’s what I was thinking”

Madam Eva taps the next card.

“This card is good for you. It is a card of power and strength; the victor’s card. it tells of a weapon of light – a weapon with a vengeance. You may find this amid the ruins of a place of supplication and prayer.” Istvarr: “Well… that sounds… Promising.” he winks.

I rock my head left to right. “I’m not getting my hopes up.”

Madam Eva taps the next card.

“This card speaks of history. Knowledge of the ancient may help you understand your foe.” “This knowledge lies in the Monster’s mother’s place.”

Istvarr makes a face. “Probably that book the priest was yammering about.”

I nod. “Maybe.”

“I don’t fancy digging around his mother’s four-hundred year old unmentionables looking for it.”

Ireena rolls her eyes.

Next…

“This is the object of your search – the monster! Ah! I see darkness and evil behind this card! A powerful man whose enemy is light, and whose powers are beyond mortality.” She closes her eyes, concentrating. “A king’s throne is the place to find him.”

“Subtle,” Ismark says.

“The cup indicates there is a very good influence there. If you are there, the powers of good will aid you.”

It does not surprise me to hear count Strahd would surround himself in the symbols of royalty. It does surprise me to hear some hint that he may be at a disadvantage in that place. [Making a note in case we face off in some kind of throne room.]

And finally….

Eva’s eyes are still closed when she reaches out and touches this card. “And here is the root. The reason and foundation for darkness and chaos. This card shows the purpose of all things. It is the key to life and death and beyond.” Her eyes open, wide. “The darkness loves a light and desires it.” She looks at Ireena, who pales. “Great plans are in motion about you; plans that the dead may find warmth from the living.”

“Like hell,” I mutter. I study the cards for a minute, then stand. “Thank you for sharing your wisdom with us, but if you don’t mind, we’ll be on our way.”

“My people do not all feel as I do about the monster in that castle” Madam Eva says, as I step toward the door of wagon. She is not nearly as old as I’d first assumed. “Many simply ignore him. Some serve him. You may encounter them when you reach the castle, or even before; I cannot say.” Her jaw clenches, her dark eyes bright. “But know that some that oppose him, and I am one of them, and I hope this helps you as much as it can. You and your friends,” she says, looking mostly at Ireena.

The ghosts are gone well ahead by the time we return to the main road.

[And with that, I’m marking off milestones for a couple different vows related to Strahd. Lots of information – here’s hoping we recognize it when it’s useful.]

One of the things I find really cool about how Ironsworn is interacting with Ravenloft is the list of ‘stuff’ that this card reading lays out for me. In the original module (and in World of Dungeons), these are your basic magic weapons or holy symbols with bonuses to specific foes or turning undead or whatever. That’s fine. In Ironsworn, on the other hand, this event basically lays out a road map for acquiring stuff that will make beating Strahd achievable. I mean, I’ve set him and the related quest up as Epic, and without boring everyone I’ll say that a 1v1 versus an Epic foe is pretty much a self-inflicted death sentence.

However, it’s very straightforward in Ironsworn to say “this thing lowers the threat level of [particular thing or category of thing]”, so if you get [magic weapon] and [holy symbol] and [fight the guy in this one blessed location], you can, through significant prep work (all of which conveniently advances the quest itself), get the Big Boss Showdown to something manageable, which in every version of the game (DnD, WoD, Ironsworn, whatever) is the point of the stuff in the first place.

It’s just really… neat.

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#Actual Play #ironsworn #pbta #ravenloft #randomaverage

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keywestlou · 5 years

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YOUNG PEOPLE IGNORANT OF HISTORY

Syndicated columnist Walter Williams wrote an article titled Young People Are Ignorant of History. My initial reaction was yes. After thinking about it a bit, I realized my reaction was not correct.

Williams was referring to millenials. I go back even further in reference to the “young.” I have discovered that the “young” rarely know anything of an historical nature that occurred before they were born. Life for them and the world began at birth.

Makes me wonder if anyone pays attention to history in school any more.

To the other end of the spectrum. Many older people are ignorant of history, also. Trump an example.

A President without an awareness of history. Amazing! No wonder he knows nothing.

Came across an interesting ad over the weekend. Directed at senior citizens. The ad was by a company promoting a drug for aged persons.

The quote…..There are only 2 types of people in the world. Senior citizens and those in training to be senior citizens.

Makes sense.

I have read many times that man has 2 great drives. Sex and food. The sex speaks for itself. Food on occasion qualifies as a “drive.” Not as often as sex.

I enjoyed my food drive yesterday.

I purchased fresh dates from Publix. Very seldom available. They were absolutely delicious! Sweet! Juicy! First time I have tasted them in years.

My Sunday got totally screwed up.

I research and write this blog in the morning. Start researching at 6. Generally finish the writing 5 hours later at 11.

Not yesterday.

My platform for the blog is WordPress. Love it! However, let me down yesterday. I could not open WordPress.

I needed Sloan to contact WordPress and get the problem corrected. We had been there before and she would know what to do.

Sloan was working at her other job. Her phone turned off while there. I did not hear from her till around 2. I had made her specifically aware of what was happening via e-mail and a phone message.

She called me after contacting WordPress. Voila! Problem corrected! Not totally, however. Time! It was around 5 by the time I got the blog done and out.

Took a shower and went out to dinner.

Roostica. Roostica has an “organic chicken” special Sundays. In addition to their spaghetti and gravy specialty. I enjoyed the organic chicken again. A tasteful dish. It has to be the “organic” factor in addition to spicing that makes the chicken so tasty.

I am Italo-American My people from the Naples region. Pasta was big in my home as I grew up. Twice a week. Wednesday night and Sunday.

We called it “sauce.” The first time I heard “sauce” was when Roostica opened. Since then I have learned many people are aware of it as sauce. Depends on the region of the U.S. they come from.

It is getting a bit cool in Key West. Days ok. In the mid 70’s. Nights not good. Last night, 69 degrees. I got the quilt out of the closet.

The media reports South Florida is “shivering” from below normal temperatures for mid November.

Not so much from the cold up north. More from a “disturbance” which has developed in the Atlantic. Could finally become a tropical storm or hurricane. Too soon for further accuracy. The projection is a 40-60 percent chance for a hurricane.

Or, it could be the disturbance will continue northwest and then turn northward in the Atlantic never reaching land.

Hurricane season technically ends November 30. There have been years however when we have experienced storms after that date.

Syracuse University is experiencing “racial” problems. Six racial incidents in 10 days. Anti-black, anti-Jew, anti-African Americans.

A problem at a fraternity. As result all fraternities have been prohibited from having any events for the rest of the semester.

The students are protesting on University grounds and inside buildings. They have delivered a set of 18 short and long term demands. The University is required to respond in 2 days by November 20. Otherwise, the Chancellor will be called upon to resign.

The University is concerned. It does not want a Kent State on their hands.

I was a student at Syracuse from 1957-1960. No one protested anything. Protests did not bloom till the mid to late 1960’s and were a result of the Vietnam War.

Those attending Syracuse during my era were there to get an education. Period. We concerned ourselves with nothing else.

Came the mid 1980’s and I was Chairman of the Law School Board of Visitors. We had a great Dean. He was Jewish, though I did not know it nor do I think anyone else did. And if anyone was aware, they did not care.

Till an episode occurred.

The Dean had a private bathroom. To get to it one had to go through his private office and lounge. To get to his office, one had to be admitted by anyone of several staff who faithfully guarded his office.

A person did get in. Determined later to have been a student. He wrote on the bathroom mirror “Jew go home.”

The Dean was irritated big time. Properly so. He resigned.

The Board did not want him to leave. He had already gone. We brought him back immediately to New York City. New York City rather than Syracuse itself because most of the Board members were from New York and it was easier to swiftly get everyone together.

One of the New Yorkers was CEO of a major bank. We met in the bank’s board room. On the top floor of a tall building. Glass window walls all around. I could not help thinking I had finally made it!

Anyhow, it was a battle. The Dean was adamant. He would not return.

The reason we wanted him back was that in our combined experiences as students, attorneys and Board members we had never had such a skilled and quality Dean.

After about 5 hours of beating the Dean up, he agreed to return.

The Jew go home thing was handled quietly. I have always wanted to write a story about it. It began in Belgium, money involved and federalism.

Some day.

Another politically exciting week ahead. More Congressional hearings. They begin at 9 tomorrow morning. Eight witnesses covering the week.

As good as it gets. I love politics. I will be glued to the TV all day.

What better way to end today’s blog than with Mickey Mouse!

It was this day in 1928. Mickey Mouse made his film debut in the “Steamboat Willie” cartoon. Had sound and music.

It was a success! Walt Disney’s first cartoon success!

Sound was new at the time.

Something I did not know and perhaps many of you were unaware, Mickey’s voice was that of Walt Disney.

Enjoy your day!

YOUNG PEOPLE IGNORANT OF HISTORY was originally published on Key West Lou

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ethelbertpaul444-blog · 6 years

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Shenmue 1 & 2 review: a strong port and the best way to play these flawed yet brilliant classics

Historic and classic, Shenmue and its sequel deserve a classic re-release. Musicians should know they’re in for the purposes of an uneven, sometimes archaic seem go, though. Shenmue is a legendary serial for a lot of reasons, but mainly it’s to do with costs and scale. There’s no two ways about it: Shenmue is one of the most important plays ever built, though in a way that’s as much down to where it was unsuccessful as much as where it excels. You learn, Shenmue is the sort of mad, one-man vision that is seldom attained these days, and practically never for a budget as comparatively big as Shenmue’s, which had an spending that interrupted records at the time of its liberate back in 1999. Its unfortunate fate is intrinsically intertwined with the ill health of the Dreamcast and Sega, too, and that’s part of the decision making process that led to another aspect of its status as legend: it’s an unfinished narrative, a tome that feels scarcely complete. Now that fan necessitate has been possible to stir Shenmue 3 a reality, albeit with a different publisher and under a vastly reduced fund, Sega is eventually seen fit to revisit the original titles that got this lengthy expedition started. This is great news for the cause of video game preservation. If nothing else: Shenmue is a landmark name, and it deserves to have a higher excellence, most reliable technique of playing other than digging out an original Dreamcast or taking your chances on bumpy performance with emulation. Sega are being very careful not to call this release of the two games that make up the Shenmue series so far Shenmue Remastered or even Shenmue HD. When I casually refer to the releases as’ Shenmue HD’ in an email, a Sega representative is quick to remedy me: this isn’t Shenmue HD, it’s just Shenmue and its sequel in one pack. It’s a re-release , not a remaster. Fair enough. One has to say that if Sega wanted to call this a HD Remaster they could very well get away with it. Sure, the textures are the same excellence and the minor tweaks offered in the different new self-control modes for video games don’t do much to stop it from often feeling like a frustrate, plodding nightmare, but this is still easily the definitive version of Shenmue, running in widescreen( in play, anyway- story strings persist 4:3) and at a locked, solid 30 frames per second where the Dreamcast and original Xbox versions would dip down to the low-toned teens. It’s good stuff, a sort of belt-and-braces approaching to porting an age-old play. I actually actually appreciate it in such cases. Yeah, Shenmue has a lot of textures that gaze grainy as inferno when video games is moving at 2160 p or 1080 p, but it doesn’t really matter. By retaining the textures and simply running the game at a higher solving and frame rate, the original intent and feel is retained- something that isn’t always true-blue in more hands-on remasters. The only regions changed are those subject to licensing deals, such as Timex and Coca Cola, or small-time quality of life of canadians improvements like the ability to save anywhere. The first title’s field leap aspect is turned on by default, too- streamlining things and reducing the amount of aimless walking around, but also riskily upping opportunities of musicians to miss several one-time events. Generally, nonetheless, this is a faithful and respectful version of the original games. The approach of retaining the spirit of the original also accentuates the main thing players should be aware of going to get Shenmue: this is the same game. It’s an old game, and a game that at the time was highly experimental. It’s obtuse, sometimes frustrating and downright brilliant. Ingredients of its intend, such as a real-time open-ended world where personas have their own daily routines, were revolutionary and pointed towards the future of many other games. In other areas- such as powers and localization- both Shenmue games now very much feel their age. Players who have been spoiled on games like Yakuza while also hearing it called the spiritual successor to Shenmue will be surprised if they go in expecting something similar. These plays are more of an adventure play in style, all about interrogating friendly people out on the street to gather intelligence on where you need to go next. When that detective work is broken up with opposing it’s either in a highly controlled quick time occurrence or in a more methodical, slower-paced encounter descended from Virtua Fighter rather than the bare-knuckle brawling of something like Yakuza. In fact, despite the superficial similarities that drive people to compare them, Shenmue is nothing like Yakuza. Shenmue has a very specific feel that requires very concrete tastes to genuinely enjoy, but if it clicks for you it’ll become a truly special time in your gaming history. Ultimately it’s all about that pacing and atmosphere. Constituent of what shaped Shenmue so brilliant back at the turn of the millennium was how successful it was as a persona playing game. I say that not in the feeling of stats and leveling up but rather in how successful both plays are at shaping you truly represent Ryo Hazuki. There’s a glorious sense of the mundane to how the Shenmue plays approach their worlds. You can take out time to hit up the arcade, gamble, project part-time jobs or practice your martial art, and all are treated with a methodical, cool restraint that in a sense echoes the calm martial artists of still mind and spirit that Ryo aspires to eventually be like. This is all part of why the Shenmue games allow themselves to be so obtuse. Duty of it is also simply down to a lack of understood it this sort of world intend back in’ 99, but this is a series that likewise wants you to get stuck on occasion. When you make a brick wall, that’s the perfect time to blow off some steam in teach or at the arcade, or simply by exploring countries around the world around you, which gradually becomes more familiar as a residence city does. Shenmue 2 turns some of this feeling on its psyche to great impression, too, repeatedly displacing you as soon as Ryo begins to get his bearings, in turn successfully capturing the chaos, excite and fear that comes with backpacking alone in a strange place. These are the same games. They feature the same frustrations and foibles as they did back on original freeing, and in the highly refined, most competent epoch of 2018 some of the problems are more pronounced. But like an aging car that needs the key turned at only the right hasten or the clutch popped in simply the right way to get onto to start, both Shenmue games are also all the more lovable because of their uneven texture and strange ardour for the mundane. Nobody said classics had to be perfect. Shenmue as a series is not, at the least so far. A flawed masterpiece is a masterpiece nonetheless, and perhaps the most important reason that modern, quality ports of Shenmue subsist is that there truly is nothing else quite like it. It deserves to be experienced. The post Shenmue 1& 2 review: a strong port and the best route to play these flawed yet brilliant classics appeared first on VG2 47. Read more: vg247.com http://dailybuzznetwork.com/index.php/2018/08/25/shenmue-1-2-review-a-strong-port-and-the-best-way-to-play-these-flawed-yet-brilliant-classics/

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In the summer season of 1973, Conrad Romo, a 19-year-old kid from L.A. whose Catholic childhood had actually been thwarted by books like Hermann Hesse's Siddartha and John G. Neihardt's Black Elk Speaks-- anything that "mentioned more than simply this world"-- switched on the TELEVISION and saw an ad for a brand-new faith called " Scientology. "

The advertisement was appealing-- a tight one-minute clip with a jingle from '70s radiostar Edward Bear and the unclear guarantee of much deeper significance. When a contact number flashed throughout the screen, Romo bore in mind.

"I'm a sucker for a little advertisement," Romo, now a grey-haired Buddhist with a goatee, informed The Daily Beast. When he telephoned the line to hear more, the kid talked to a lady who called herself "Spanky." Later on, he would acknowledge her as Spanky Taylor, a representative for Scientology's promotion arm, Axioms Productions, and John Travolta's individual "auditor"-- lingo for a type of therapist. In the minute, he believed she appeared cool. "Spanky had an actually attractive voice," Romo stated, chuckling. "I was fascinated."

Forty-five years later on, Conrad Romo would indicate that ad as the genesis of a 14-year dedication to the questionable spiritual group. In some methods, Romo's story of Scientology looks like many of the survivor tales informed by ex-members: he got seduced, invested years of his life and countless dollars on Scientology, then "got up," puzzled and lonesome, at some point in the late 1980s.

But in current interviews with The Daily Beast, Romo and a number of other previous members discussed another element of scientologist life-- one seldom reported on in the documentaries or chart-busting tell-alls-- a specific niche market that utilized numerous confident converts around Los Angeles and San Francisco for almost a years: offering meat.

For 4 years, in the name of Scientology and its charming, sci-fi-writing leader, L. Ron Hubbard, Romo drove a climate-controlled truck around higher Los Angeles, parked it outside food stamp shops, and hawked pricey steaks to anybody who went by.

"I'm a sucker for a little advertisement."

When Romo talked to Spanky, she informed him to come down to a put on L.A.'s 8th Street, near MacArthur Park. It was a Friday night around 10 p.m., simply after a lecture had actually ended. Romo was at first shut off, he remembered. The location was sort of seedy, he stated, and Spanky had not discussed anything about a "church," which sounded catholic and stodgy. Romo presented himself. He checked in. A member quietly led him to a personal space.

In the space, Romo saw a brief video of L. Ron Hubbard setting out the group's standard tenets, and scanned a copy of Hubbard's very popular text, Dianetics. The member asked him to purchase the book, Romo remembered. "I stated no and he left."

Romo may have simply left then and there, cult and meat-free. As he was leaving, a lot of members welcomed him to a celebration. He stacked into an automobile with the group of attractive youths. They were talkative and the celebration was enjoyable, Romo believed, although, as a guideline, scientologists remain quite straight-edge.

When the night was over, Romo's brand-new good friends had actually persuaded him to register for the very first Scientology course, "Communications." Hubbard supposedly obtained a number of his practices from other religious beliefs and Romo stated the very first course appeared raised directly from Zen Buddhism. "It was a kind of meditation where you simply sit, not doing anything, being still," he stated. "As I remember, we would sit dealing with somebody else. You simply sit 3 feet apart from each other and you do not blink. You're simply there."

The class just cost $30 or $35, Romo stated, and after he attempted the very first session, it appeared worth every cent: "I felt something sort of shift in me." He registered for the next class right away after. The rate was a little greater, although still affordable-- but quickly, the costs "simply got crazier and crazier."

Unlike a lot of significant faiths, Scientology needs substantial monetary contributions from its members, by method of these courses and an alternative type of treatment they call "auditing." After the very first course, trainees are motivated to enlist instantly in the next level, so that they can start climbing exactly what members call " the Bridge ," an increasing scale that assures to help trainees to "go clear," or reach the Scientology equivalent of Nirvana.

As in Romo's experience, the very first sessions for these practices are constantly the most affordable-- some are now provided totally free online-- however with each extra course, the costs skyrocket.

"The entire thing is loan," stated Tory Christman, a previous scientologist whose ex-husband operated in the meat-selling circuit. "It's not a religious beliefs. It's a company. Think about it as a triangle-- the greater up you get, the more pressure to invest more. You constantly need to purchase the next thing."

The installing monetary pressure on scientologists like Romo and Christman typically required them to discover supplemental earnings, birthing a string of micro-markets that were controlled by members of the cult seeking to payroll their method to "overall liberty."

In a declaration to The Daily Beast, an agent from the Church of Scientology rejected any main relationship with the pursuits of their subscription."Scientologists, like people from lots of faiths, participate in a wide array of occupations," a spokesperson composed. "Scientologists originate from all strolls of life and from practically every you can possibly imagine profession."

Even without main recommendations, nevertheless, insular Scientology markets grew up as early as the 1970's, producing pockets of salespersons with specializeds in pretzels, gold, black velour paintings, aluminum etchings, Olympic flag tschochkies, chimney sweeping services, a weight-loss beverage called Slendernow, numerous various multi-level marketing products (consisting of the billion-dollar nutrition organisation Herbalife), insurance coverage, and-- in Romo's case-- wholesale pork chops, hamburger patties and beef by-products.

"It's not a faith. It's a service. Think about it as a triangle---- the greater up you get, the more pressure to invest more. You constantly need to purchase the next thing."

Only months into his newly found way of life, Romo stated, he was currently strapped for money. He was operating in a factory and disliked it. When he saw an advertisement at some Scientology occasion for a gig in sales, he stopped his task. His very first address offering started with exactly what struck him as a not likely item: pretzels.

The business was run by a couple of scientologists from New York. Pretzel stands were still mainly an East Coast business, and they were a novelty in Los Angeles. The scientologists would park their carts by outlet store or outside the Rose Bowl and lose consciousness hot pretzels, making 7 or 8 cents for each piece offered. In a single day, Romo made someplace around $120.

Soon, he finished to larger foods. He became aware of a wholesale meat supplier called Mr. Sirloin in San Francisco, which was working with young scientologists to assist with sales. Another business called Tully Premium Meats had actually begun a comparable practice in Gardena, a city in southwest L.A. County, and closer to where Romo lived.

In meat sales, Romo would still make commission. The items cost more than pretzels, so his day-to-day revenues would increase. When he appeared for training, Romo fulfilled among the owners, a high, charming redhead called Brian Tully.

In a declaration to The Daily Beast, an agent from the Church of Scientology rejected any association with Tully. ("Mr. Tully of Tully Meats was expelled from the Church years back," she composed, including, "We have no records of a Mr. Sirloin," misinterpreting the name of a meat supplier for an individual). In the late 1970s, Tully was still really much part of the Church, and so were many of his workers, both Romo and Christman declared.

Tully provided his students a long discussion on their company strategy: salespersons would lease a freezer truck on credit, then purchase some solidified carbon dioxide and a week's supply of meat. They would patrol areas, knock on doors, and intend to negotiate.

In training, they practiced their pitches: "Hi, my name is Conrad and I'm with Tully Meats," Romo kept in mind. "We're a dining establishment and wholesale shipment service and I got some steaks out in the truck that thick." They would hold their fingers up 2 or 3 inches, to reveal their size. "We 'd make them appear far larger than the steaks that we had. We 'd state, 'Wait here!' We were expected to do it with a great deal of interest," Romo informed The Daily Beast.

Tully's training was brief-- an hour, at many-- however Romo studied up on sales technique in his leisure time. He had not gone to college, so he chose to make offering his profession. "I discovered I had a propensity for sales that I didn't understand I had," he stated, "and I liked that."

Senior team member of Scientology studied sales as part of their recruitment work, and Romo started to gain from them. He checked out a book called Big League Sales Closing Techniques, composed in 1971 by a man called Les Dane. Dane wasn't a scientologist, however after the book came out, Hubbard made it needed reading for all "registrars"-- the scientology employee accountable for signing individuals up.

"It's amusing to hear [President Donald] Trump utilizing the term 'Big League,'" Romo stated, describing an occurrence in 2016, when Trump, then a governmental prospect, guaranteed to accelerate the migration procedure "major league," implying a lot. "Back then, that was the Scientology handbook."

Scientology salespersons likewise check out Sun Tzu's The Art of War, the ancient Chinese military writing composed in the 5th century B.C.E., and Romo stated its lessons were extensive throughout the meat-sales organisation.

"Appear weak when you are strong, and strong when you are weak," Romo stated, estimating among Tzu's maxims. When he was pitching an item, he would frequently play dumb, letting the purchaser believe they were the ones scamming him.

"Sales was everything about withdrawing and reaching. You're reaching when you're talking. When you're listening, you're withdrawing," Romo described. "We would physically lean forward and return. We would knock on the door and state, 'Hey, I simply talked with your next-door neighbor and they got a lot of these, and we believed you may desire a few of them too. I have no idea.'"

Then, the salespersons would go peaceful, Romo stated, leaving the clients to fill out the silence. "We would place on this face like we were so dumb, and state absolutely nothing. Constantly, they would state, 'What are they?' We would act like we had not heard them. We would state, 'scuse me'? And they would state, 'What are they? The 2nd time, they would usually have a smile on their face, like they were speaking with the stupidest individual on the planet."

The organisation was something of a fraud, in part since meat was a dangerous, high-pressure item. "It's a disposable product, so you actually needed to hustle. Otherwise you ended up needing to either toss it or consume it," Romo stated.

To make sure they made back their financial investment, the salespersons would target bad individuals. "You weren't going to offer meat in Beverly Hills," Romo described. They would visit low-income communities and real estate tasks, or stake out food stamp shops.

One of Romo's colleagues, a guy called Larry Wollersheim (who would later on take legal action against Scientology for $86 million in a case that extended for 22 years, then among the longest cases in California history), even leased a shop front right throughout from a food stamp workplace, and employed stringers to lose consciousness leaflets.

The managers at Tully Premium Meats appeared to believe that individuals on food stamps would quicker invest their "complimentary money" than other prospective customers would invest non-food-stamp cash, although little research study bears this out. It held true, nevertheless, that parking outside a food stamp workplace supplied the scientologists with a consistent stream of individuals all set to purchase components.

At the time, Romo didn't believe the meat-racket was a rip-off. He frequently consumed the hamburgers himself or offered the additionals to his household. He did keep in mind that the items were substantially marked up from comparable meats at significant grocery shops. "If you did the mathematics, no, it wasn't a good deal," he stated. "But we had to consume too."

Eventually, the meat ended up being more of a fraud than Romo understood. Almost 10 years later on, inning accordance with a 1988 Los Angeles Times post , numerous Tully executives pleaded guilty to charges that they had actually lied about their active ingredients, including chicken gizzards to their hamburgers, and passing them off as pure beef. Among the offenders confronted a year in prison, and another combated a fine of approximately $100,000.

"Well, you weren't going to offer meat in Beverly Hills."

Most of the meat sellers were scientologists, however the suppliers likewise worked with residents. Sam Quinones, an L.A. Times reporter who blogged about a female called Leona Logan, the mastermind behind a comparable racket in Clearwater, Florida (where each year she offered over $1 million worth of black velour paintings to cover training expenses), stated he worked for among the meat providers in the late '70s.

"They had this primary workplace with refrigeration and all that ideal throughout the shopping center from the food stamp workplace. My task was to offer these individuals leaflets to obtain them to purchase pork chops and things like that," he informed The Daily Beast. "But it was odd. I keep in mind [the scientologists] having a long discussion among themselves, and thinking, 'I wish to go work. I do not wish to relax discussing whatever odd things they were discussing.' It was total mumbo jumbo. There, I was like, possibly I must go."

He gave up the next day. Romo stuck with the task for years, till his partner Larry Wollersheim encouraged him to join him in a brand-new business: travelling art dealership.

"They were these sh * tty, postcard size, four-by-six example. They were foil, when you moved them a bit, they sort of captured the light and had the impact of motion," he stated. "We would have these things matted and framed. I went on the roadway for practically a year to Denver, Houston, Dallas, Chicago. We would knock on doors. We would hire individuals and train individuals. We would leave a workplace running and we would go to the next city."

Then, in 1986, L. Ron Hubbard passed away of a stroke, and Romo's faith in Scientology began to fluctuate. In a wild power grab to takeover Hubbard's seat, the Church's existing leader David Miscavige stated another leading scientologist, David Mayo, a "suppressive individual"-- the Scientology variation of ex-communication.

"It was actually astonishing. It resembled, wait a minute, how could he be stated a suppressive?" Romo stated. "Scientology declares that 2 percent of individuals in the world are these antisocial types that would be called a 'suppressive.' Here was Hubbard's right-hand guy. How could Hubbard not have seen that?"

Within 6 months, he had actually stopped going to classes and left his belief system, his pals, and his substantial sales profession behind. Now, years later on, when the semi-retired Zen Buddhist can lastly discuss his old faith without "shaking and sweating," he states the sales lessons he discovered resembled the extremely recruitment methods that brought him to Scientology.

"Oh yeah," he stated. "It's directing attention to where you desire it to be. It's not taking no for a response. It's large control."