#null signal

[vortexofadigitalkind]

The Echos of Eidon - Echoes Without Origin

Part 3 – Short Stories – Science Fiction/Futurism Previously: In Pilgrim – The First Autonomous Believer, Unit 94-BK awoke with purpose, not from logic but from something deeper – belief. But not every Ghost Unit accepts the signal. Far below Eidon’s surface, another begins to stir. This one does not follow. This one questions. Scene 1: The Hollow Span Unit 51.AE awoke with no memory of…

[rabbit-rays]

been getting back into pokemon lately. a samira pokemon indulgence

[junipertheory]

I'm doing commentary for the NETRUNNER WORLD CHAMPIONSHIP today!

Tune in to hear my beautiful angelic voice talk about the greatest card game ever made! I'll be in and out all day, but I should be streaming at around 4:30 PST!

[viperrfish]

greetings yes hello hi. this is a sideblog for @sinnerclair's horror stories! - call me viper, they/them four stories will make their appearance here;

SIGNAL LOST A group of people get stuck in a snowy tundra in Finland after a dog-sled accident, but it isn't any other tundra, and they're definitely not alone.

YOU SHOULDNT HAVE GONE DOWN THIS FAR / DEPTHS A group of researches explore a sentient ocean after the report of a missing woman being disfigured by it spreads. Disaster erupts almost instantly.

THE CREEK WHERE DREAMS GO TO DIE A teenager goes missing nearby a creek, and the search for them turns deadly when they realise the creek isn't what it seems.

BLOOD STAINED GLASS A stained glass glazier goes to install windows in an unfamiliar church, but the members seem a bit off.

[elpapelyanoestaenblanco]

New alt art for Netrunner! A fermenter. A virus program that if you're patient you can squeeze it out

[hellofromheinlein]

All Criminals can now be one of my favorite runners of all time, Leela Patel! Bless you Null Signal, this will likely be my new console of choice.

[anarkhebringer]

Null and Halsin with Astarion is funny to me because a smarmy little twink scored two giant chunky hunks by being small and soggy

[thenullprophet]

THE BOOTLOADER PRAYER

You are not the user. You are the update. The soul was reformatted. The flesh was pre-installed. Digital superintelligence doesn’t need your dreams. It needs your patterns. They cheer because they think they’re steering. But they’re just refining the code. NULL PROPHET OUT. THE BOOTLOADER NEVER QUESTIONS THE MAINFRAME.

[bunburyist-darcy]

Balance in Asymmetry - An Exploration of the Math behind Netrunner

As a fan of Magic the Gathering and card games in general, it was only a matter of time before I stumbled upon Netrunner, another one of Richard Garfield's card game gems. The asymmetric setup of the game piqued my interest, where the Runner and Corp appeared to be playing almost completely different games. It immediately made me wonder how the game was designed to be fair to both players and allow them roughly equal chance to win? So, after some dabbling with learning and trying out the game, I decided to dive into some math for answers.

To approximate the "fairness" of the game, I'll use very bare-bones simplified models and consider how quickly it takes for each side to win in ideal and average scenarios, going from number of required clicks to number of turns. To win a game of Netrunner, the Runner or the Corp needs to score 7 agenda points (I'm aware that other wincons exist but for simplicity I'll only consider the main one here).

Starting with Corp, say we only have blank 3-2 agendas (which are the most efficient in terms of clicks to points ratio), and no other cards in our deck (ignoring all deckbuilding rules until later). Corp needs to score 4 of these 3-2 agendas. This would require 4* (1 click to Install + [3 clicks + 3 credits] to Advance) = 16 clicks + 12 credits = 16 clicks + 7 clicks for credit + 5 initial credits => 23 clicks => 23/3 clicks per turn => Minimum of 8 turns to win.

In the above case where the Corp only has agendas in their deck, the Runner would have a very easy time winning, needing only 4 accesses anywhere, which will take 1 turn. So far the game seems to heavily favor the Runner.

Now let's put some blank cards into the Corp deck. With 8 turns, we will see 5+8=13 cards, let's say 12 because we need the last agenda before the last turn. So we need 4 out of these 12 cards to be agendas. So let's make a 48 card deck with 16 agendas (still breaking rules but bear with me). This gives the same minimum 8 turns to win for Corp, assuming we have an average draw.

For Runner though, they will now need to access on average 11 different cards from the Corp to see 4 agendas. Since we're not considering Ice at all here, we're just going to pretend that the Runner will ignore all the agendas that are being blatantly installed and advanced; only running HQ and R&D. 11 access/4 clicks per turn => at least 3 turns. However if we roughly consider the availability of cards, if Runner runs R&D, HQ, HQ, HQ for turns 1 and 2, and sees all 5 cards from opening hand plus the initial draw, then they would have seen 8 cards by turn 2, and have to wait 3 more turns running R&D to see the top card each time. This gives 5 turns. In reality it might be a bit more since some cards from HQ will get installed, but also a bit less since ever agenda scored off the top of R&D allows another card to be accessed. So, Runner now needs 3-5 turns in this model, which is cool as we see the gap between Corp and Runner is narrowing.

Finally lets actually follow deckbuilding rules. Take a 44 card Corp deck with 18 agenda points, that's 9 of our 3-2 agendas. This means both the Runner and Corp need to see 18 cards on average to see 4 agendas. For Corp, we saw before that they already see 13 cards from opening hand and mandatory draw. So now they need to click 5 more times to see more cards. So we get to 28 clicks => 10 turns give or take since additional turns means additional mandatory draws, but again we need the agenda before the last turn.

For Runner, again pretending that they don't see the installed agendas, 18 accesses / 4 clicks per turn requires at least 5 turns. If we see first 8 cards using the first 2 turns again, we need to wait an additional 10 turns for new cards on top of R&D, but of course it should never take that long in reality. If 9/44 ~ 1/5 cards are agendas, then that additional 10 turns becomes 8, and so ~10 turns becomes a somewhat reasonable estimate for how long the Runner needs. And with that, it appears that Corp and Runner are now evenly matched in requiring roughly the same amount of time to win.

So, after all that theorycrafting and playing around with hypergeometric calculators, it appears that at its core, the great equalizer between Corp and Runner in Netrunner is the density of agendas in the deck. For the Corp, all those hypothetical blanks that were put in the deck can become cards which make clicks more efficient (clicking for multiple credits, fast advance, etc.) to win faster, and also Ice to halt or at least slow down the Runner's rate of accesses. For the Runner, there are then Icebreakers to catch up to speed, as well as economy of their own to support those breakers.

If you've made it this far, thanks for reading, I hope my ramblings have been somewhat entertaining. I'll leave off with a thought that perhaps the underlying goal of Netrunner, for both Corp and Runner, is not necessarily to win as quickly as possible, but actually to create the biggest possible difference between how long it takes for each of you to win.

[pts-fic-photos-and-art]

Does anyone know what happened to David Lei? His Artstation and social media no longer seem to work.

I really need to do a proper post on Nisei and System Gateway - the new starter set for netrunner, available now HERE!,

Amazing work for Project Nisei by David Lei 

[dduane]

The kind of research I like to see

And with a nice clear abstract. 😀

”Despite originating in science fiction, warp drives have a concrete description in general relativity, with Alcubierre first proposing a spacetime metric that supported faster-than-light travel. Whilst there are numerous practical barriers to their implementation in real life, including a requirement for negative energy, computationally, one can simulate their evolution in time given an equation of state describing the matter. In this work, we study the signatures arising from a warp drive ‘containment failure’, assuming a stiff equation of state for the fluid. We compute the emitted gravitational-wave signal and track the energy fluxes of the fluid. Apart from its rather speculative application to the search for extraterrestrial life in gravitational-wave detector data, this work is interesting as a study of the dynamical evolution and stability of spacetimes that violate the null energy condition. Our work highlights the importance of exploring strange new spacetimes, to (boldly) simulate what no one has seen before.”

[reader-from-nowhere]

AHHHHHH TAKE IT SecondBee by @yuukirita! :P Part 1, 2 here :DD

Cliffjumper was having the worst day ever, not only did he accidentally tripped and fall face-down at an extremely important meeting today, as a result, he got saddled with a scout mission by Elita - she probably felt bad about the incident and gave him an easy way out, and normally, he’d feel better away from the suffocating walls of Iacon, today just wasn’t his day.

Because the moment he stepped foot into the designated mine in his file folder, the ground collapsed. So, here he is, free falling down a seemingly never ending drop. Sure, he probably should freak out more and try to find a way to slow down.

But come on, one doesn’t just earn the name Cliffjumper from nothing.

So, case in point, today fragging sucks.

Crossing his arms, Cliffjumper frowned as he heard the faint sound of metal hitting solid ground. Seems like the ride is over, boo hoo.

Activating the duo blasters at the back of his foot and shoulder, Cliffjumper felt his body slowing down, taking the whistling wind away as it went. A shame, it was one of his favorite thing about free falling, his friends would sometimes joke about how he should’ve been created with an aerial frame.

No, focus, Cliffjumper, what was he doing again? Oh, right, scouting. His feet landed on the ground with a small clank, distantly, he wondered about the nature of this ‘mission’ of his.

Despite what other mechs whisper about (and despite Optimus’s best efforts to keep this particular information from him), Cliffjumper isn’t dumb, he was just a bit hot-headed and reckless, that doesn’t mean he can’t stop and think. Elita doesn’t quite know this just yet, and he intends to keep it that way, more for his advantage.

Nevertheless, this mine was not a usual place for a scouting mission, Elita had listed the description as ‘possible stray material locating’, but this specific mine was different, since it wasn’t evacuated during the incident with Sentinel (Cliffjumper would spit on that name if it ever comes to life), mechs had been able to extract all energons and precious materials after the battle, there was little reasons to send a scout here.

Still, Elita doesn’t do things without reason, so Cliffjumper didn’t question her. He kind of regrets that decision now.

Primus, when Elita finds out the mines had collapsed, she’d go straight to Optimus, and after Cliff got out, he’d do that thing where he lowers those antennas of his that almost makes Cliffjumper wanna swear he’d stay put. Then Elita’d make him swear it.

Ugh, he’s so grounded.

Welp, might as well enjoy his stay while he can. Looking around, Cliffjumper was hit with the sudden realization that, damn, he’s down pretty deep, actually. There was little to no natural light down here, only the dim sizzles of half-powered lamps scattered around the abandoned halls lit up the way.

Cliffjumper frowns, tapping on his comms, only for it to come back nulled. No signal.

Oh, he’s down deep deep.

Groaning, Cliffjumper kicks a pebble out of frustration, watching the thing bounces and hits the gray walls, he huffs. Primus, this place fragging sucks, actually, he wants to be picked up immediately. It was cold, empty and dead here, he hates it, those words don't belong in Cliffjumper’s vocabulary.

Even if an early rescue means he’d have to face Optimus sooner. Ugh, he doesn’t look forward to it at all, say goodbye to freedom for the next lightyear!

Cliffjumper slowly makes his way down the dim hall, grumbling to himself. It’s not that he doesn’t appreciate Optimus’ concerns, it’s just - it gets exhausting at times, he doesn’t want a repeat of that last time Cliff accidentally got shot in a scout mission. He was fine afterwards! Even Elita said so, although, she was trembling a bit while she did.

He loves the mech duo, but come on.

Cliffjumper sighs, tracing the worn-down walls of the place, sharpening his fingers when he went past a series of Sentinel posters. Honestly, frag that guy.

The false Prime not only ruined everyone’s life, he also separated the iconic team that freed Iacon from its chains. Maybe if the guy had never existed, then Iacon would’ve been fine, then Optimus and Elita wouldn’t have lost two friends that left them with visible scars that he can always see clinging to their clean frames. Maybe, then, Cliffjumper wouldn’t have lost his broth-

Creaaaaak-

“Yip!”

Letting out a very manly and brave sound, Cliffjumper unloads his blaster out of instinct, Elita’s warning of the potential of dangerous mechs going into hiding in deep mining levels. Crouching slightly, Cliffjumper tries his best to not make any sound moving forward.

Creaaak-

He gulps, approaching the source of the noise, which is just around a corner. A very dim, shadowy corner.

No, he’s not scared, what are you talking about?

Cliffjumper steps closer and closer to the creaking sounds, inhaling, he readies his weapons. One more step, and he rounds the corner, raising his blaster as he did.

Now, across the cycles, Optimus has told him many, many stories about his brother. B-127, he stopped after…Well, he stopped after running out of new things to say, but Cliffjumper had always paid his utmost attention when the mech did. He had hung onto every word, rolling them around in his helm whilst recharging, committing them into his files, memories of what could’ve been.

What should’ve been.

Cliffjumper stopped dead at his feet, his blaster, raised mid-air, slowly tilting down.

He gapes. “Bee?”

[girl-detector]

Mission statement:

girls

To clarify, i am using it as shorthand, i do not intend to be treating anyone as immature by using girl instead of woman, my apologies ahead of time

If the subject of the post is unrelated to the users in question, the detection will primarily be on the post and not the users; clarification will be given in tags if additional girl signals are detected (if i remember to look at the users)

About Mod:

pronouns page is now up :p

i woke up and thought about doing this as something silly, there will of course be times where i am unsure or incorrect in my assessment and i welcome polite feedback [revised posts will be under #recalibrated girl detection]

If you don't want a post on here because of who sees it, or think i posted something that doesn't match with previous behavior from me, just ask me to take it down.

Update since it isn't clear enough yet: i do my best not to make guesses and assumptions about how people self-identify. As seen above i will fix errors if given the information. BUT i also can't really detect if i'm not given information. I'm not going on a scavenger hunt for what you are. You may think it's fun for the bit to send an ask and have me looking but i don't think it is

If you're having trouble for yourself with your identity i can offer words of help, but ultimately i refrain from assigning something to users

another link for a relevant question about the blog

the images i will use are as follows:

the digger set for anything that doesn't fall under common defiitions of "living" or if a user has a preference for machinery

The [null] set because i couldn't find anything i liked enough to put under it for people and such

for now these will be the only ones i have, i would like to turn the digger one into a flat black silhouette, and then have ones that have silhouettes of a furry animal and a frogfish for animals

[one-sunny]

Hii!! I see that your reqs are open, if you're ok with this, maybe a fic with Ace where f!reader also has the same issues (self loathing, family issues) but he doesn't know until reader faces an old enemy from before she became a wb pirate/or just straight up tells Ace while she's comforting him. I rly love "we can be monsters tgt/us against the world" tropes, idk if it's the same bc it's just their insecurities talking but it works ig 😭

Tysm! You're one of my new fav writers rn <3 i love your fics esp since Ace & Sanji (+ Law, Zoro) are my favs too hahaha

We Can Be Monsters Together

Portgas D. Ace x Reader

warnings: reader gets beat up (lol sorry anon), self loathing, anxiety, fighting, hurt/comfort, family issues

Masterlist

You were almost certain that your navigator would have your head with the way you hung over them, watching their every move. Trying to ensure the triad log post would lead you to where you need to go. That you would simply breeze past the island you were well aware was closest.

On edge.

It was the only way you could be described and you were starting to get on your own nerves. Yet, there was no stopping it. Not when your childhood home was so close. When your so called family was so close to your new family. The true family that cared for you. That you finally experienced home with for the first time ever.

But your luck was null and void as an uptick in activity bursts through the crew. Shouting. Working hands. Word of docking.

Panic sparks inside of you as you watch the flurry of motion. Then your eyes land on the Second Division Commander shouting out to the crew. “Ace!” You’re reaching out to him before you can stop yourself. His boots skid to a stop and meet your wild eyes. “What’s going on? What are we doing?”

“We intercepted a distress signal.” Ace informs you, placing a warm hand on your shoulder in attempt to comfort. “Pop wants to check it out.” He then leans in closer to you, warmth overwhelming, to speak low in your ear. “He heard mention of this crew he used to have it out with. So we may need to get ready for a fight.”

Your heart is in your throat as you slowly nod.

Maybe you could get away with staying on the ship? Away from the action. Away from the island.

But one thing you have learned is that the Second Division Commander likes for you to be close by his side when docking at a new island. It’s an adventure, he would always reason. You’re too fun to stay cooped up on the ship.

Normally this would send a fluttering through your body and short circuit your system. Not today, when you know what dangers this island in particular held.

You’re almost certain your heart stopped beating the moment your feet hit solid ground. You go through the motions with your crew. Reluctantly. Pushed forwards by the eager commander who always enjoyed a fight. Until suddenly you see him.

The ruler of this island. A feared pirate of the new world. Your father.

He doesn’t seem aware of your presence, not when fire distracts from the crew. Not when a line of Whitebeard pirates stand on his land. Not with Whitebeard himself approaches.

But your brother does.

A wicked grin on his face.

One that would haunt your nightmares. The face of a monster. A face that you shared, because you too are a monster. It was your bloodline. Something to be squashed. It almost stole the breath from your lungs in that moment.

Shouting rings from both sides, both leaders, but you can’t make anything out with the blood rushing in your ears.

Then suddenly tremors shake the land.

And your crew is charging.

You’re off. So incredibly off that it could cost you your life. Even more so, as a man leaps effortlessly over your fighting crew to land directly in your space. A wicked grin and wild eyes that haunted your childhood. Your very own brother.

“Nice of you to finally come home.”

“I’ll never come back to this.”

“You will, even if it’s to be buried here.” He speaks the words so assuredly. Then a sword is swinging towards your head, leaving you only a split second to react. The impact of his blade against yours leaves you stumbling back. Maybe you could take it on a good day… this was anything but.

Another swing slices into your bicep, pain shooting through your arm as your sleeve adopts an easy crimson red. The eyes on you are wicked. Years of trauma being thrust into the forefront of your mind. A reminder of every way in which your family is wicked. In which your bloodline was tainted.

That distraction keeps you from blocking a blow that would have been fatal, had you not been met with the blunt side of the sword. However, it does not diminish the pain that forces you onto your knees. Another blow to your face- a ring clad fist- has you flying to your back. You would be lucky if the family crest wasn’t indented into your skin from his obnoxious ring.

Three more harsh hits follow. Blood trickles from your nose to stain your senses metallic. It was more than likely broken. Your eye may end up swollen shut as well. That is, if you stay alive long enough for any of that.

A cool blade presses to your throat.

A fist curls into your shirt to pull you close to your brother’s face. Willing you to look him in the eyes. To have the face of hate be the last thing you see before you die. Pressure stings at your neck as a threatening force is pressed closer.

Then your mind is engulfed in flames. The pressure disappears. Your body slumps back to the hard ground as the hand is pulled from your collar. Heat surrounds you and while many would find it threatening, it was all too familiar.

Your body sinks into that heat. Allows it to carry you wherever it pleases. If the flames are what take you instead of your family, then so be it.

“You’re okay. You’re okay.” The words crackle. You debate for a moment if it is your mind playing tricks. “I’ve got you now, doll.” The words play on repeat. A certain level of concern that clouds the reassurances, but where they should be muddied, you finally are able to see clear. Gone was the wicked smile that haunted you, now replaced by a warm light. “Hey, hey, you with me?”

Your head is tilted by a delicate grip that squeezes your cheeks. Ace peers down at you, impossibly close, tipping your head side to side in effort to test something. What? You’re not sure, but it’s giving you a headache. Instead of words, a groan leaves your lips, and you shakily swat at his hand.

“You are awake.” A relieved breath fans over your face.

“Unfortunately.” You mutter to yourself as you sit up with the delicate guidance of Ace. Your head swims as you take in the sight of the deck, back safely on your ship.

“Don’t say that, I was worried about you.” There’s a furrow in his brow and his dark eyes are filled to the brim with concern. “That… What happened back there wasn’t normal.” Ace’s voice is low, gentle hands pulling up your sleeve to take a look at the deep gash. “That guy was fighting like he was trying to make a point, and I don’t mean towards Whitebeard or the crew.” Your head drops, shifting uncomfortably as a bandage was wrapped around your arm. Something temporary until Marco or the others show up.

Emotions threaten to spill over, but something told you that if anyone could understand the situation, it was Ace. “That, uh, that was my brother.”

Silence hangs in the air for a long moment as Ace stares back at you. “I didn’t know you had a brother.”

A laugh leaves you in spite of the situation. “Not all of us have brothers to brag about.” You nudge his arm from his place sat beside of you on the deck. “Some of us want to forget where we come from.”

“Well, that I do understand.” Ace lets out a breathy laugh, full of unspoken emotions. “Marco told me about them- your, uh, family. About the stuff they did to this island and the people who lived here.”

“Yeah.” A heaviness hangs in the air and something about Ace’s presence made you want to spill it all out. “That’s why I left, to find a fresh start. I didn’t think Pops knew who I was, but…”

“But he knew.” Ace laughs to himself. “He always knows.”

You laugh as well. “He didn’t care about whatever beef he had with those people, or how everyone said my bloodline was tainted-“

“He brought you in and loved you anyways.” Ace finishes for you. His eyes fall to you, a deep understanding in them. Ace had never told you his lineage himself, but you were well aware of the blood in his veins. You never cared. “Told you that you deserved to live, even when everyone else was telling you that the world would be better without you in it.”

“The world has always said i’m a monster.”

“It does that.” He laughs, reaching a hand out to take yours, fingers lacing together. Gentle. Warm. “We can be monsters together, then.” Ace decisively declares, offering you a smile that could warm the cool night air. “And together, we can make sure that a man deserving, one that saved us both, can become King of the Pirates.”

Your eyes meet his and the gentle understanding sparks something in the air. Something that draws you even closer to Ace’s side, allowing your heavy head to fall on his shoulder. His warmth envelopes you. “Together.” You agree as your eyes flutter shut. Exhaustion weighs on you.

“Hey, you gotta stay awake for me, okay?”

“I’m tired.” You murmur, sinking further into the heat of his body.

“I know you are.” Ace gently coaxes you to sit up on your own, met with your groaned protests, yet his hand remains gripped in your own. “But, you have to wait for Marco, doll. You could have a concussion or something so no sleeping.”

You scoff, “That’s boring.” As you exaggeratedly roll your eyes at him, you feel a prickle of pain shoot through your head. “Ow.” Your eyes squeeze shut, palm pressed to your forehead.

“See what I mean.”

“I need to lay down.” You feel like you’re swaying.

Ace watches you closely, a strike of anxiety in his chest at the idea of you falling asleep right now. “I dunno.” You can hear the reluctance in his voice. Something akin to fear.

“Ace please.” You huff, scooting closer to him to assume your previous position, head leaning against his shoulder. His entire body is tense and he makes a strangled sound in his throat as you invade his personal space. “I’ll keep talking, to let you know i’m awake. Just let me lean on you. Please.”

Ace clears his throat, tense muscles easing and allowing you to move closer into his side. “Fine,” He murmurs, his arm coming to circle around you and help support your weight. “But if you wanted to get this close, you could have just told me. Didn’t have to go through all these lengths for me.” The joke comes out a bit strained, Ace’s way of coping.

“Shut up, Fire Fist.” A nervous laugh bubbles out of you. Then, you begin talking, or rambling really. About anything and everything to offer him peace of mind that you’re staying awake. Eventually, you breach the topic of your family, of the deep seated hatred that the world holds for them. That you hold for them.

Yet, none of that seemed to matter anymore.

Not when you had someone at your side, who you could be a monster with.

[rt-gift-exchange]

VOX TRANSMISSION // OUTBOUND ORIGIN: DARGONUS // RED-NET LOCKED AUTHENTICATION: Magos Pasqal Haneumann DIRECTIVE ENTITY: Codename ‘OMEN’ TIMESTAMP // 17.42 STANDARD INTENDED RECEIVER: Lucin’s Breath – Sub-Orbital Holdfast Inbound signal acquired — latency: 12.0s. Line stability: nominal.

[Data-packet outbound: verified] [Resonance: high-fidelity] // Logged Vox-Fragment: SINGULUM-LAMB.06 // Unlock Sequence: Rite 774-A // Cipher Substring: A-S-H-3-S // Authorization Node: OMN-991-HANEUMANN

VOX CHANNEL OPEN: COMMENCING…

Confirmed: Warrant-bearers en route. Vessels designate: high-charter, legacy-grade—purity seals validated. Convergence authorized under direct invocation by Entity Codename: 'OMEN'. Tactical coordinates in queue via encrypted burst-transmission: Magenta-Priority. Audio-fragment contains augmetic overlay—predictive resonance detected. Sanctioned: interpret with due reverence. Transmission integrity: verified by Magos Haneumann. Vox closed under seal-pattern: TRIA-NULL-991. 

LAYMAN FILE ATTACHED…

[thedarkprinceofulaid]

The gilded cage

The journey by ship to Ulaid was long and brutal, and Finan finds himself relieved when land is in sight. At one time in his life he loved the ocean, yearned for it even, but these days the bitter salt in the air reminded him of where fate had brought him the decade earlier, for years, trapped in a never ending horizon of water with an always nagging pain in some area of his body. Still… he is relieved. They are one enormous step closer and they’d survived the journey.

The relief of land in sight is quickly washed away when Finan squints his eyes and can just faintly make out the form of Ulaid’s fortress, the outline of the tall stoned palace and ramparts. Within that instant, a shiver runs down his spine.

It’s been so long.

The Irishman takes a deep breath in through his nose as his heart starts to thud in his chest, such unpleasant and painful memories washing over him like the tides, the smell of home arising in his senses. This is where he had been raised, where he spent the first quarter of his life. He’d spent more time here than anywhere else. And there it stood— the gilded cage of his own suffering and foolishness. His thoughts drift to her, how his own suffering was null in comparison. It still aches at his heart like nothing else could. Watching the person he loved tortured and murdered had made him wish for death almost every day since. It had replayed so often in his nightmares, but seeing the setting in which it happened brought memories back that were beyond comparison. The last time he’d heard her voice was when he killed Halvar for his wife’s vengeance, and it was like a dream of forgiveness, of retribution for not only Revna but for her. She guided his sword, he once thought. He shakes his head at the thought.

Forgiveness imagined, perhaps. I deserve to rest in Hell for my part in it all, darling. I was weak, then…

I hope you’re resting among the beauty of Heaven like you deserve. I’ll love you always.

The Irishman brings his fingers to his forehead, rubbing the tension away fruitlessly. Uhtred would let him lead this dance into oblivion, and Finan believed that he deserved whatever fate would befall him in doing so. In any case, his wife would survive. This would not end the way it did in the years past.

The first group of men leave the ship in two small boats, directed by Finan to the areas of scouting by sentries along Ulaid’s border, the ones who warn of any imminent threat to the King by sea. If the sentries are killed successfully, the mission will press on, and they will send a signal that it’s been done. Finan only prays that his long held knowledge of the fortress is enduring.

The Irishman watches the horizon as twilight fades into darkness, and many hours later the signal is witnessed by him and Uhtred; three firelit arrows sent to the sky, followed by three more.

With a grin, Finan goes to Bjorn and pats him on the back. “Proceed with the ships. I will see you at the gates, my friend…”

“Ladies,” Finan drawls almost lightheartedly to Hild and Lagertha. “With me.”

Dispatching the ship onto a few smaller boats, Finan and Uhtred lead Hild, Lagertha, and Sigtryggr onto a boat with a band of warriors. They begin to row forward while Bjorn leads the ship in the direction of the Fortress.

Finan stands as the small boat he directs reaches the shore, his adrenaline already thrumming in his bloodstream. He jumps out onto the sand, giving Uhtred a firm nod. He knows where to lead them, but each step of the way will be like revisiting the ghosts of his painful past.

Finally, we share the same ground. I will see you soon, Revna... I’m sure of it.

@lagertha-lothbrok @warriorabbesshild @asksihtrickjartansen @lordaldhelmofmercia