So i pulled my forskin back the head for the first time in my life, I was very happy at start but now 2 things concern me-
1st> after pulling the foreskin down the head while flaccid to almost erect everything is good. But when my cock starts getting fully erect while my foreskin is behind the head the forekin tightens so much making a hour glass type shape and it hurts...also it prevents me to get a full rock hard erection because it is so tight it doesnt allow anymore erection
2nd> i recently saw a post on this sub where a guy wrote he used to last longer when he had phimosis and the sex was so good...but after treating it...the sex has been worse the head is so oversensitive he cant even have a pleasurable penetration....which i feel is same as my case (im 17 and virgin) because when i now touch my head after pulling my foreskin back its SO SENSITIVE.... like i think if i ever had sex i would cum while just entering her...i would not even last like 10 sec. Maybe its just because i have recently ( 3 days to be precise) started pulling back the foreskin down the head and the experience is still very new to me...and with time the head gets less sensitive(hopefully)

I wrote this little prompt today. Please share any constructive criticism!

David crouched behind one of the towering containers. The footsteps drew closer. If only they hadn’t all run off on their own; now he was lost in this maze of ridiculously large shipping containers, alone and cold. If only he had that thirst for revenge. Now he could hear the guards’ lively conversation. His hair stood on one end. They could be right behind the corner. he rubbed his sweaty palms against his jeans. He turned his eyes at the top of the container before him- it must have been at least a few meter tall. He could make a tree grow and then climb it to reach the top, but the ground was hard concrete, spotless of any cracks. He looked down at his hands. He had an idea. A painful one. Without wasting another minute he pulled his sleeves up and stretched his arms upwards. He stared intensely at the edge, while trying to clear his mind of any thoughts and feelings. A number of saplings broke through his skin and grew and grew upwards. David bit his tongue and squinted his eyes in an attempt to stop himself from whining and tearing up. Like tentacles, the full-grown saplings swayed in the air until they reached the edge and crawled over it like snakes. Taking in a deep breath, he forcefully pulled the plants from his skin, almost letting out a cry. Blood was flowing out, but there was no time to spare- the guards were definitely lingering behind the corner and at any moment they could catch him. He griped the plant-made ropes and lifted his feet to the wall of the container. He climbed it as quietly and as fast as he could, without looking down once and before he knew it he was at the top. Hurriedly, he pulled the roped together and right after he crouched away from the edge. From there he had a clear view of the busy harbour. He was close to the ship they were trying to board. That would be great news if it wasn’t preparing itself to leave. His nerves tensed. He had to find them immediately; they could anywhere and in trouble. David hated that he couldn’t take a moment of rest. Despite that, with the help of his plants, he crossed over the container in search. 

Thank you in advance of any feedback!

As much as I like Vaush, whenever he opens his mouth about Ukraine I skip cause I can't stand him, it's like I'd listen to McConnell, Bolton or some Pentagon press secretary. Progressive democrats will support every single dollar to create and send more deadly weapons, in the UK the Labour leader kicked out Corbyn for calling NATO for what it is, an imperialistic organization and basically blackmailed others- either you fall in line and won't criticize NATO, or you'll be out too.
The only acceptable violence the left should ever go behind is the working class taking on the capitalists and seizing the means of production. The concept of a naiton is fake, the class struggle is not- russian capitalists exploit russian working class as much as ukrainian do with theirs, we shouldn't make this war longer by giving more weapons and make more people die for it, it's not a worthy cause. When one fascist president attacks the other there is no way I can support either, we should arm Amazon workers across the world, not Zelensky, not imperalistic NATO.
I've read a lot about the opposition to Vietnam war and how the pressure made it possible to change the course of the US government and pull out, it's horrendous to me that now the position of supporting peace is not only attacked by the right and centre, but many leftists too.

I(20F) have been having some troubling thoughts lately.. a bit of context:
I have tried a few things in my teen years, but not much. Stuff like alcohol and weed. I still smoke weed often, and drink occasionally. However I decided to try something new some months after turning 19.. acid. First shrooms, it was fun. I enjoyed it. Then I tried some acid in pill form which was fun too. Then tabs. The first two or three times where fine, I had a good time. It was a little scary but overall not too bad.
About 2 months ago me and my best friend decided we’d do acid while visiting my mom. My mom is really cool, very spiritual (third eye type shit) and has a lot of experience with acid. My moms brother(my uncle) was visiting, and he’s also all about that acid. My mom and my uncle decided to take a tab with us so we could all have a bit of fun. I took 200ug (I usually only take 70-100 cause my tolerance is LOW). At first it was fine, it was my best friends first time and I had fun observing him.
About 3 hours into the trip we’re sitting and watching Rick and Morty, when I suddenly can’t make sense of what they are saying at all. It all started turning into gibberish and random words, and the episode started falling apart for me. I didn’t understand anything. I thought it was a really weird episode (I’ve since watched it back and realized I was hallucinating hardcore)
After the episode was over I had to pee really bad, and went to the bathroom, however my uncle was passed out on the toilet asleep, he had been drinking and taking acid and was impossible to get out of there. I start worrying, I have to pee so bad, so I decided to go outside alone on a cold day at 4 in the morning. I find a spot behind my house and take a leak.. things are alright but I’m very uncomfortable and things look so weird around me. Everything is moving.
But then it happens. The one thing I had hoped would never happen to me. Ego Death. On my way up the stairs I black out and start feeling emotions I simply cannot describe. Emotions I’ve NEVER felt before. I regain consciousness but feel EXTREMELY OUT OF PLACE, as if my skin is loose and I’m not where I’m supposed to be. I crawl up the rest of the stairs and fall down on the couch. My best friend is sitting there and when I look at him he’s a stranger to me. I don’t really know who he is, because I can’t recognize his face (hallucinations made him all warped) so I just stare at him. I don’t register anything hes trying to tell me. The only person I’m aware of is my mom, who’s laying in her bed asleep. I feel like I don’t exist and I get REALLY freaked out. I mutter to the “stranger” on my couch that I have to find my mom. My best friend guides me to her bedroom and I lay down next to her, wake her up, and ask her to hold me. I am a 20 year old woman, but In that moment I was my moms little girl and I was terrified. So hold me she did. And it started collapsing for me. I didn’t think she was real, I didn’t think anything was real. I felt like I was trapped in my brain and it felt like years had passed while I was laying there. I couldn’t close my eyes. After 30 minutes of laying there the only thing I could think was “if I want this to end I have to kill myself”, and in my head I kept saying “this is it. I have lost my mind. I’ve gone insane I’ll spend the rest of my life in a ward”. it was so scary. My mom was comforting me as much as she could but I didn’t think she was real so the comfort felt like a figment of my imagination. It wasn’t very comforting.
Finally, after hours of pure hell, I fell asleep. And I slept for about 14 hours. When I woke up I felt weird. Not like, stomach pain and nausea and the general weird feeling of taking acid, but I felt… WEIRD. Still out of place. I was there physically but had a hard time pulling myself back mentally. My mom asked me to walk her through what happened and I did. She assured me this feeling would go away.. but it’s been 2 months and I sometimes still catch myself feeling out of place. Bigger than myself, something else. I feel like an alien sometimes. I don’t like it. I look at the people around me and feel like a fly on the wall. My depression is worse, my anxiety has gotten really bad, I feel ticcy and weary all the time.. and I feel mentally unstable, more than before.
I should also mention I suffer from various mental illnesses. Such as depression, anxiety, Borderline personality disorder, ADHD, tics, PTSD, and aggression issues.
I feel unwell. I need advice. Thanks for reading.

Donate to his veterans support charity No Duff if you can, it will go to his daughtewhanau, to return his body and continue his enduring kaupapa, which will help other whanau in this conflict and others.

No Duff Charitable Trust Givealittle page:

https://givealittle.co.nz/org/noduff

​

Kane Te Tai remembered as man of honour committed to aiding Ukraine

https://www.rnz.co.nz/news/national/486507/kane-te-tai-remembered-as-man-of-honour-committed-to-aiding-ukraine

Whānau and friends of slain soldier Kane Te Tai say he will return home as a warrior in life and death, and be remembered as a man who always fought for what was right.
RNZ understands the body of the slain New Zealand soldier has officially been identified as Te Tai and is now being transferred to Kyiv.
He is understood to have been killed while clearing a trench in the Vulhedar area of Ukraine.
Sources have told RNZ he had moved deeper into the trench, away from his team, when he was killed by Russian soldiers.
His team were forced to leave his body there, before Ukrainian marines went in and recovered him overnight.
Veteran support and advocacy group No Duff is now working to ensure a New Zealander can be available to escort his body through the country to the Polish border, before travelling with him for his final journey home.
Comrades and friends have said they believed it was important a Kiwi was always with him, but the process would not be simple.
Te Tai co-founded No Duff with Aaron Wood, who told Midday Report his mother had asked them to manage the journey home.
"We're pulling all the pieces together. A number of volunteers and interested people from New Zealand, all the way through to Ukraine and in between, are coming together to make this happen."
It was highly likely they would be able to bring him home, Wood said, but there were numerous jurisdiction challenges ahead.
Deeply respected during time in Ukraine
Te Tai joined the Defence Force after leaving high school and went on multiple deployments while serving in the 2/1 Royal Battalion.
He left the Army in 2010 and travelled to Ukraine in April last year, operating under the call sign 'Turtle'.
Te Tai was a prominent character in the warzone and was widely followed on social media.
His colleagues described him as well-known and deeply respected for his professionalism, skill, leadership and relentless sense of humour.
They said he never underestimated the importance of his job, or the lives he held in his hands.
His death marks the third New Zealander to be killed in the combat - after the deaths of his best friend Dominic Abelen and humanitarian Andrew Bagshaw.
Te Tai had become the unofficial expert for New Zealanders in Ukraine, often acting as the point of contact for Kiwis wanting to travel to the warzone. He would ensure people knew what they were signing up for, a way to get into the country and a unit to go to.
He admitted in an interview with RNZ his initial motivations for going there were selfish, but that changed quickly on arrival.
The soldier became an infamous figure in the war, often featuring on Russian propaganda sites - seen by RNZ - particularly the Wagner group, who put a NZ$11 million price tag on his head.
In a conversation with friends he joked about ratting himself out for the money, illustrating his sense of humour.
Te Tai always said to his friends he was not afraid to die, but he also was not afraid to live.
During nearly a full year in Ukraine, he garnered respect from people in all walks of life. He volunteered with Ukrainian families, taught civilians how to fight and eventually found a spot at the frontline as one of the team's leaders.
Te Tai said he was fiercely protective of his team and did anything to make sure they were safe.
During one mission in August 2022, his best friend, Abelen, was killed in trench warfare. In an interview after the mission, Te Tai said the team were unable to get his body back and it ended up in Russian hands, but that did not stop him from trying.
He told RNZ they only stopped because Abelen would not have wanted them killed in the process.
Just last week Te Tai posted on social media, revealing that while clearing a Russian position he had found a "long lost friend" who had wanted to visit New Zealand.
Te Tai had thought his friend was dead and was amazed to find him alive, describing it as a "Hollywood moment".
He said at first he did not recognise the man, who had been shot four times and was skinny.
"He'd been starved by Russians for two months and drinking anti-freeze because the Russians wanted a laugh."
The man did not want to be left with the Ukrainians, but Te Tai had to keep fighting. He promised he would return and walk him personally to hospital.
That was exactly what he did, he said.
'The people grow on you'
In that August interview with RNZ, Te Tai said he had fallen in love with the country and its people, and was deeply respectful of their resolve.
"I was sort of getting a bit bored of being at home... and coming into this conflict was just one of those things that selfishly I thought I could be close to the war without getting too entangled.
"But then that sort of changes... I've met so many people, I've been everywhere in this country and the place grows on you, the people grow on you, and their strength, and that's why I'm still here."
Te Tai said he was prepared to leave everything in Ukraine, but in the weeks before his death he had made moves to return home.
His mother said he always kept her up to date, ending the calls with "I love you Mum", but more recently it was like "I'll see you soon".
In a Facebook message to another friend he said he loved Ukraine, but it was time to start living a real life - "gotta put the toys away and start to build while I can", he said.
"That's enough war for me, I love this place, it's like a playground where I can do anything I want.
"But that's the problem isn't it? So before the game gets me or before I decide that life here is too easy, maybe it's time to start living my real life.
"This place is pure escapism, we are all trying to run from something, mine is from having a real life, but the time is near."
Passionate about the cause
Te Tai is being remembered by his friends and comrades as a man of honour who was passionate about his cause, always doing everything he could to protect people.
Longtime friend Aaron Wood described Te Tai as a beautiful man, who he loved to bits.
"He just wanted people to live their best lives and he wanted to help as many people as he could.
"That sounds like a cliché, but with him it's a truism. That's his whole life... Just serving people, that's what he did, that's what his message was."
That was what he died doing, Wood said.
His mum, Ngaire Te Tai, said there was never any talking him out of it.
"He never did anything by halves, my son. We tried to stop him, but he had his mind made up, that's just Kane.
"When you were around him, you just felt safe."
A gift she said she knew he spread much further than just Ukraine.
Ngaire Te Tai's final comment about her eldest boy was: "Don't let my son's death be in vain."
He leaves behind a 12-year-old daughter.

“Don’t get me wrong, I don’t find anything glorious about killing young mobilised Russian boys who are crying in their trenches”
https://www.stuff.co.nz/world/europe/300777917/the-shelling-is-so-close-it-makes-you-puke-says-kiwi-fighting-in-ukraine

The shelling is so close it makes you puke, says Kiwi fighting in Ukraine

A Kiwi soldier fighting under Ukraine’s military intelligence says he’s prepared to die.
Kane Te Tai, code name Turtle, is fighting in a secretive reconnaissance unit on Ukraine’s front line in the eastern Donetsk region.
After deaths, injuries and resignations, Te Tai now leads the Foreign Reconnaissance Team after only joining in July.
A December article in The New Yorker magazine revealed the existence of the unit and featured Turtle.
It’s the same unit that 28-year-old Kiwi Dominic Abelen was fighting in when he was killed in August, and the two were like brothers.
Te Tai’s unit has set up a PayPal to fundraise for vehicles it needs to move around its area of operation, near the town of Pavlivka.
As Te Tai was interviewed, he had to be careful his phone wasn’t too bright, so as to not give his unit away to any Russian drones flying overhead.
“We live on the line, we just occupy whatever place we can find at the time. If it gets too hot we just find somewhere else,” he told Stuff.
His unit’s job is primarily reconnaissance, a small mobile force that could reach into Russian land or no-man’s land between the trenches, and destroy a tank or hold a position, before the Ukrainian army moved in.
“Find it, locate it, observe it, report it, attack it.”
Good 4x4 vehicles are a necessity.
Donetsk is known for farming and coal production, and Te Tai described the land as similar to the Canterbury plains.
Soldiers try and use the tree lines separating the fields for cover, and trench systems are built through them.
During the winter, the roads and fields are muddy, pocked by craters from Russian artillery barrages.
The Foreign Reconnaissance Team can get the necessities of war – food, bombs, clothing, bullets - just fine.
Reliable working vehicles and parts, and enough for an emergency stockpile, are harder to come by.
The Foreign Reconnaissance Team is reliant on vehicles driven into Ukraine from throughout Europe by volunteers and paying for them with donated money.
“You can use that vehicle until it is blown up or you crash it, unfortunately both those things happen all the time,” Te Tai said.
“The last three vehicles we’ve had, in the last month, they’ve been hit with artillery. Holes in the front, s... just smashed through.”
Unlike the famous International Legion Battalion, which tens of thousands of foreigners have joined since the start of the war, the Foreign Reconnaissance Team is for some of the highly-trained foreign few.
Te Tai served a tour in Afghanistan for the New Zealand Defence Force and thinks of himself as having spent his whole life training to fight.
His team is given autonomy, building trust with local Ukrainian commanders to find out what they want and then formulating missions.
Te Tai was able to talk about one operation the Foreign Reconnaissance Team conducted during a December battle in Pavlivka, first described in the New Yorker article.
Te Tai and a small team of a half-dozen were set to cross a bridge at night and enter a tree line which ran into the centre of the town.
The mission was to see how close they could get to the Russian positions before they were fired on.
“The moment that we got onto the bridge, everything just opened up, rockets, missiles everything. We ran across this bridge and were just trying to scramble to the safest nearest spot.”
Te Tai’s team managed to get into the tree line and into a trench – all in the dark – but the Russians began to shell progressively towards them down the tree line.
“I remember just looking at everyone in the pit and we all had this look on our faces like, ‘well, the party had to end some time’. We had this feeling of acceptance.”
But, just as the next shell was set to kill the team, it flew off somewhere else and the Russians then began to bomb regressively back along the tree line.
“By divine intervention we missed getting smashed... We all knew we were supposed to die that night.”
Before joining Foreign Reconnaissance, Te Tai was working for a church training Ukrainians in basic military skills.
He was open with people back in New Zealand about what he was experiencing, including old army colleagues.
Te Tai described an environment where Kiwis in Ukraine often stayed in touch and worked together, including Dominic Abelen who contacted Te Tai before making the trip.
When Abelen said that he was set to join the International Legion Battalion, Te Tai told Abelen he was hearing bad stories.
“You go there as a foreigner, you get given a weapon, some ammunition, and sit inside a trench and you fight or die, that’s how it’s portrayed.
“People would tell us: 'Thank you for training my son, he didn’t make it back, but I felt he was better off than he was before’,” he said.
Abelen, now with the nickname Tolkien, made his way into the Ukrainian army, but managed to get taken into Ukrainian military intelligence.
Talking to Abelen about what he was doing, Te Tai had had enough of training soldiers and the 37-year-old felt like he was running out of time to fight.
“I told him [Abelen], ‘I’ll jump in with you too’.
“And he [Abelen] was like ‘thank God, cool man’,” said Te Tai.
He ended the volunteer work and a recruiter told Te Tai to get to Lviv where he entered a secretive military intelligence training camp.
Recruits weren’t allowed to use their phones and were closely evaluated for a two-week period.
“Pretty much from the second they take you into the camp, they don’t tell you what’s going on.
“They operate it like a psychological test, to see if you can be just told what to do and not know any other parameters,” he said.
Access to weapons was heavily restricted and there was heavy scrutiny as Ukrainian officials went through candidates’ records and social media, trying to weed out spies and the weak.
“When you talk to someone, it’s always a cover story, you’re never talking to who you think you’re talking to,” Te Tai said.
Then, one morning in July, officials gave Te Tai a contract and drove him to the Foreign Reconnaissance Team in Donetsk.
“As soon as we pulled up... Dom had no shirt on... he said, ‘let’s do some work’.”
“I was like ‘my man!’.”
Abelen had put in a good word for him with Ukrainian intelligence, Te Tai said.
He gave Te Tai the code name of Turtle, after he had originally named himself Talon. Talon was too cool, Abelen said.
Te Tai described new troops arriving for the unit as a big event, a celebration of strengthening the group after the fighting took its toll.
“There’s a high attrition rate either by death, injury, or guys wanting to leave.”
The Foreign Reconnaissance Team currently operates out of a house, planning their missions on a whiteboard.
“We’re normally strapped for time. If we’re not out working we are resting, or we are giving instructions.”
Te Tai said there aren’t ranks in the unit, so while he is the team’s leader, he sits on the same step as the other foreigners in the unit.
He eats Ukrainian food: soups like borscht, and two-minute noodles and toast.
At night Te Tai watches Netflix and YouTube fail compilations to decompress. Sometimes, he hears the Russians shelling, keeping him awake.
When you’re fired on by artillery, you can hear the lifespan of the shell, he said.
He described how shells left the Russian gun with a distant duh-boom, screeching through the air, before exploding somewhere on the Ukrainian side of the line.
Some shells landed far away, but some hit so close to soldiers that the concussion made them puke and made them feel sick for the next day, he said.
“That shit happens like every week.”
About six weeks after Te Tai joined the unit, Abelen was killed during a mission.
“It pissed me off more than anything, it just consolidated for me that I’m not leaving any time soon.”
Te Tai said Abelen didn’t have a death wish, but he was a soldier and fighting was what he had trained for his whole life.
“I could have told him, ‘you are going to die today’ and he would have been like ‘it’s a good day to die’, that’s just who he was.”
Killing didn’t weigh on Te Tai’s mind, he said. He described it as part of the job, and said his views hadn’t changed since Abelen’s death.
“Don’t get me wrong, I don’t find anything glorious about killing young mobilised Russian boys who are crying in their trenches,” he said.
“I’m willing to die, for sure, but I don’t want to die.”
Te Tai has no plans to leave and wants to attend a victory day parade in Kyiv.
“I know we’re going to win, I know that for sure,” he said.
“I’m staying here until I can’t take it any more, or I am dead.”

Brynnhildr is a bruiseassassin with disruptive short ranged skills and the ability to enter battle on her own terms. She starts out as a high impact assassin and transitions into a disruptive bruiser.

Lore

Frodnar stood up, blinking, with much effort. Why was he on the ground? Where were his axe and shield? Why did everything seem so unreal and dreamlike? The sounds of battle seemed distant and the muddy field was steeped in an unearthly glow. As he slowly pondered these questions, still stunned from that mace blow, someone behind him put a hand on his shoulder. "Frodnar, it is time", she spoke.
"They got me, didn't they?"
She nodded silently, waiting for his bearsmead trance to wear off. As the blood left his body, so would the elixir leave his mind. They had made it farther than the enemy must have expected, just the twenty of them with axes and wolfskins going up against the entire legion. The ambush was flawless, but it was not enough. She knew it was never going to be enough.
"Where is the warband? How many of the rooster draggers did I take down with me?"
She shook her head, with not a hint of sadness in her eyes. "Grapeshot."
"But I can't... The village needs me! The women and children...!"
She remained silent.
"You can skewer their whole legion on that god-spear of yours. Do something!"
"The Gods wove the tapestry of fate to be admired, not touched. Your death was prophesised." She handed him his axe and shield back and coolly continued, "Come with me, einherjer. Your time on Runeterra is over, but one final battle awaits," as the earth quietly dropped out from under the pair and the skies faded into a brilliant white glow and gave way to the myriad stars of Nivheim.

Lying on the floor of a hastily dug trench, a young woman looked up at the stars, watching the glare of a falling star streak past overhead. A portent from the heavens; a sign of victory or doom? She did not dare to hope for much more than a bitter victory, and even that would be a miracle. The legion was still advancing on their position and her brothers were probably already dead. Their only hope was that the men had done enough damage to dissuade them from a frontal attack.
"Mom, the falling star, what does it mean?", a boy asked, no older than fifteen.
"It means we will win this, Bjarn. The Gods are with us. Maybe you'll get to kill a war elephant!", she said, gesturing to the makeshift crossbow he was holding in his knuckles.
It sounded very unconvincing, and Bjarn knew it, and so did the falling star descending invisibly on the small group of defenders. Unbeknowst to the mortals in the trenches, the enemy already knew their position and were loading their cannons. Bjarn would never even get to shoot his crossbow, and then she would rush the enemy ranks in a suicidal charge and that would be that. Wrong place, wrong time, as fate ordained.
As she gave her son a hug, the falling star landed silently on the ruins, watching the small group of defenders in the trench that would be their tomb. A single ethereal tear fell and vanished as the cannons flared in the distance.

Behind the thunder of the barrage, a faint ripple in the tapestry drew the messenger's eye, a single thread unwinding far behind enemy lines. The defenders were still alive: one of the cannons had not fired. Through the din of battle, she listened.
I will not shoot at women and children so the high command can add a few more miles to their borders. Fire! Fire, soldier! This is an order! We can just put down our weapons and walk away. We can put an end to this. Hands in the air! Drop the match! Drop it!
She cast one last glance at the stars she would never touch again and landed at Bjarn's side, taking care not to startle the boy.
"Be not afraid, Bjarn. You need to do something. You know how to use that crossbow?" "Yes, I... shot a rat... just yesterday..." "Good. See that star up there, just a bit brighter than the others? Aim straight at it and shoot." "Who are..." "Do not sit here waiting to die. Shoot. Follow my last prophecy. Unravel the tapestry."
And Bjorn did as she asked, and watched the crude dart arc into the distance, carried by a lucky wind.
This is bigger than you, soldier. If you don't fire, someone else will, and if they don't, someone else will. You are nothing!
Suddenly, unexpectedly, but exactly as the messenger had prophesised, a crossbow bolt fell from the sky, knocking the lit match out of the soldier's hand, sending it tumbling through the air and into a nearby barrel.

As the echoes of the bombardment faded, the mother gripped her sword, awaiting the charge. In the distance, the enemy line rushed towards them, then hesitated, stumbled; swept off their horses and knocked to the ground by a scorching wind as the horizon lit up with a brilliant glow. Burning debris and a cloud of gunpowder smoke filled the sky.
"The cannons! Bjarn, the cannons!" She turned to her son and who is that wait is that a--
"Is... is Bjarn dead?" "Not right now. Maybe later," the messenger replied. "Are we going to die?" "I do not know. The tapestry is unwoven, your fate is now in your hands alone. I have broken my oath; the power of prophecy is no longer mine."
The messenger looked around the trench, pointing her spear at the enemy line where the soldiers were clambering around, disoriented, searching for their weapons and horses. "Listen up! The children stay here and watch for ambushes. The adults join me! We strike that wagon over there before they remember which way to point their swords. That's their carrier pigeon cage. We take that out, we cut their communication lines."
"We can actually win this?", the mother asked.
"We have been given a chance. Nothing more, nothing less. The rest is up to us," the valkyrie replied.
And when her warhorn sounded and she took to the air, the villagers rose up from the trenches and the einherjer with them, rushing the enemy line, as flaming debris rained down from the heavens like falling stars.

Model

Brynnhildr is a valkyrie who has broken her oath and is doomed to remain in Runeterra. She has gray feathered wings with hints of iridescent starlight and wears elegant gray starmetal armor, a deep blue feather cloak and a circlet decorated with starmetal wings over long blonde hair streaming behind her.
She uses her wings to hover just above the ground, but walks when slowed.
Her weapon of choice is a long starmetal spear. She usually holds it one-handed, but grips it in two hands during [Q] Star of Hope.
When she dies, her corpse burns away with starlight flames, leaving no body.

• Easter egg: On her left hand she wears an enchanted ring, forged by Ornn out of stolen Runegold.

Skins

• Death-Fate Brynnhildr: Raven feathers and a black hooded cloak; one of the Greek Keres.
• Merciful Brynnhildr: Old soldiers may fade, but HEROES NEVER DIE.
• Biblically Accurate Brynnhildr: Be not afraid. (Legendary skin; three lion heads and flaming wheels rotating like helicopter blades.)

Abilities

[Passive] Taker of the Slain

"I have good news and bad news. The good news is that the Gods have taken an interest in you."
Doom-Sight: Brynnhildr has vision of all allied champion corpses on the map.
Guide the Einherjer: Brynnhildr can right click an allied champion corpse within range to fly to its location and carry off its spirit. For each spirit chosen this way, she gains bonus damage and defence until that champion respawns. This can only be performed once per corpse.

Stat	Value
Guide the Fallen: Range	400
Guide the Fallen: Buff: Bonus attack damage	5 (+level/2) (=5-14 to 20-56 total)
Guide the Fallen: Buff: Bonus armoMR	3 (+level/3) (=3-9 to 12-36 total)
Guide the Fallen: Mana cost	30

[Passive] Gray Swan

hums 'Ride of the Valkyries'
Brynnhildr can fly at a higher altitude, assuming a more streamlined pose and gaining bonus movement speed, ghosting and increased vision range.

• To activate, Brynnhildr must move in the same direction for a certain distance to attain enough lift, after which she automatically flaps her wings to climb.
• The ability ends when Brynnhildr attacks, casts an ability or takes damage.

Stat	Value
Movement speed	+30% (+2/level) (=32-66%)
Vision range	+150
Activates when moving in the same direction for a distance of	1250

[Q] Star of Hope

"Remember the dead, but fight for the living."
Brynnhildr performs a short dash with her spear, damaging the first enemy unit in her path. On impact, she flaps her starlight infused wings, dealing area effect damage to enemy units next to the target in a line perpendicular to its travel path. The dash can collide with terrain obstacles.
If Brynnhildr is in [Passive] Gray Swan mode, she performs a much longer ranged point-and-click "Swan Dive", swooping down with a shrieking cry and crashing into the target with a spear attack followed by a wing spin that deals area effect damage in a radius around the target. This version of the ability can travel over terrain obstacles.
The "Swan Dive" can also target allied champion corpses at an even longer distance, immediately applying [Passive] Taker of the Slain to the corpse.

Stat	Value
Range (Regular)	450
Range (Swan Dive)	900 (1350 if corpse targetted)
Wing strike (Regular): Width	250
Wing strike (Swan Dive): Radius	300
Wing strike: Physical damage	40/70/100/130/160 (+1.15 total AD)
Cooldown	12/11/10/9/8 seconds
Mana cost	70/75/80/85/90

[W] Between Worlds

"It is not yet your time. Return whence you came."
Brynnhildr grabs an enemy unit in melee range and carries them into the sky, making both herself and the target untargettable for a short time before dive bombing the target back down for major damage and a slow. If this is the last enemy unit and the damage kills it, she then immediately goes into [Passive] Gray Swan mode.
If Brynnhildr activates this ability during [Q] Star of Hope, it immediately casts on impact instead of waiting for the animation to finish. This deletes the wing strike and its area effect damage, dealing the damage only to the direct target, but prevents the target from escaping after the dash lands.

Stat	Value
Duration	Up to 1.25 seconds (impact occurs 0.25 seconds before the end)
Impact: Physical damage	30/50/70/90/110 (+1.0 total AD)
Impact: Slow	50% fading over 1.1/1.2/1.3/1.4/1.5 seconds
Cooldown	18/16/14/12/10 seconds
Mana cost	80/85/90/95/100

[E] Valravn

"Your fall was preordained. Come with me."
Passive: The enchantment on her Ring of Runegold increases Brynnhildr's attack speed against enemy champions and applies a stacking "Doomed" mark to the target, up to 3 stacks.
Active: Must be cast at a target in melee range with 3 "Doomed" stacks on it. Brynnhildr grabs the target and leaps backwards with a flap of her wings, taking the target with her. If she jumps over a terrain obstacle this way, the target is pulled into the obstacle and stunned, allowing her to escape.

Stat	Value
Passive: Bonus attack speed	20/25/30/35/40%
Passive: Mark duration	2 seconds (refreshed on attack)
Active: Backwards leap distance	350
Active: Terrain collision stun to target	1.5 seconds
Active: Cooldown	12/11/10/9/8 seconds
Active: Mana cost	60/65/70/75/80

[R] Götterdämmerung

"Fight. Go. Take back this world from the Gods."
Brynnhildr sends the einherjer, the immortal spirits of her chosen champions, to attack her opponents.
The einherjer are invulnerable and intangible flying warrior spirits with swords and axes (canonically they are the champions she has chosen with [Passive] Taker of the Slain). They appear behind Brynnhildr, seek out an enemy champion with "Doomed" stacks from [E] Valravn and fly into the target while swinging their weapon for damage. They pass through their target several times, turning around with wide arcs to attack again before dissipating when their attack limit is reached.

• If more than one enemy champion has stacks, the attacks are split between them depending on their relative number of stacks (if one has 3 stacks and one has 1 stack, the damage is split 75-25%).
• The stacks on the target(s) do not fall off while the spirits are attacking them.
• If the target dies, the spirits will find other targets with stacks to exhaust their remaining attacks.
• The spirits will pursue targets indefinitely, but have a maximum duration and will dissipate when it runs out regardless of how many attacks remain.
• This ability cannot be cast if there are no enemy champions with stacks within its detection radius.

The number of spirits increases based on the number of champions she has chosen with [Passive] Taker of the Slain.

Stat	Value
Detection radius	800
Number of Einherjer	3 + Number of champions currently chosen with [Passive] Taker of the Slain
Einherjer: Movement speed	600
Einherjer: Attack limit	3 (destroyed after 5 seconds)
Einherjer: Physical damage	15/25/35 (+0.1 bonus AD) (=45/75/105 (+0.3 bonus AD) per spirit) (=135/225/315 (+0.9 bonus AD) to 315/525/735 (+2.1 bonus AD) total)
Cooldown	180/140/100 seconds

Gameplay

Brynnhildr goes top or jungle, starting with [Q] Star of Hope in top lane and [E] Valravn in the jungle.
In either role, her lack of sustain hampers her ability to passively farm and she should hunt for early kills instead. Engaging with [Q] Star of Hope into [W] Between Worlds results in decent damage and delays their escape, potentially leading to a pull from [E] Valravn to stall them further while she auto attacks them.
In the jungle, she is very mobile thanks to [Passive] Gray Swan. It does need a runway to activate and turns off when she gets hit, making it much harder to use in top lane and mitigating the potentially abusive scenario of being able to hard engage from outside the opponent's range.
At level 6, the ultimate comes online. It only deals damage, and not a lot of it at first, but the spirits continue to pursue the target until their duration or attack limit runs out. It is primarily useful for counterganking and dragon fights because the damage scales up if her allies die first and [Q] Star of Hope has a very long range when aimed at an allied corpse.
Her weakest point is the mid game. Her AD scaling is not the greatest and she lacks defensive buffs and therefore needs [W] Between Worlds as an aggro dump, using it like Playful/Trickster instead of as part of her combo. This is a transitional phase and she should build hard defence at this point.
In the end game, her role shifts into a disruptive bruiser tank of sorts. Damage falls off, but her attack speed gets fast enough to chain [E] Valravn after [W] Between Worlds, trapping the target in a CC combo if they don't manage to escape the slow. Furthermore, she now benefits from staying longer in the fight due to [Passive] Taker of the Slain and the power of [R] Götterdämmerung to turn a losing teamfight around if she waits until the last moment (but no longer) to cast it.

Champion Creation Contest

• Late: I thought it said "Fate" until I read the following paragraph, but I like my version better.
• Ability with multiple distinct uses: [Q] Star of Hope can be a tactical dash with damage perpendicular to its path, or a point and click long ranged dash with splash damage.

Part 1
I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know what to think even.
Emily knows my biological mom?
“Why didn’t you tell me before?” I asked.
Emily’s smile was as thin as ice. “I didn’t think you were ready. Now you are.”
“Ready for what?”
“You’ll know soon enough. Sleep tight, Skye. You have to go to school tomorrow.”
I couldn’t sleep. All I saw, in my nightmares and painted on the ceiling, was Alfie’s face. He whispered my name while I dreamed and wriggled into my happiest memories. I woke up screaming as his body twisted and swelled.
We will meet again. Alfie hissed through a series of clicks.
It was too quiet when I woke up the next morning. I was used to Emily yelling for me to wake up for school or my dad rushing to get dressed for work and brushing his teeth or the smell of burned bacon and pancakes and eggs down from the kitchen. Or at the very least Alfie ringing my ears off to tell me he was waiting too long outside.
But the silence whispered through the halls, sneaking into my room and tickling my heart. I rubbed my eyes and sat with my knees tucked against my chest, watching the sun rise. The sky was lit in gold as the darkness slithered away, but it was as if dawn had never arrived at all.
I got dressed and headed downstairs. At that point I realised exactly why the house was so quiet and my heart stopped cold.
Most of the stuff we owned was packed up into boxes; and anything that was too big was covered by translucent tarps. Emily and my dad were huddled together in the kitchen. They looked so lost, so hollow, like they’d just come back from Alfie’s funeral and had not stopped crying since.
“Hey morning,” I said tersely.
“Morning,” Emily said. She still wasn’t looking at me. “Did you sleep well or do you still look like a panda bear?”
“Ha ha.” I made myself some coffee. It tasted like muddy water.
Emily looked at the clock. “You better hurry up or you’ll be late for school, Sleepy Skye.”
“But—” The night before was still spinning in my mind. Questions bubbled to the back of my throat, dying on my lips.
Emily placed a hand on my shoulder.
“Don’t worry, Skye. I’ll explain more later when the time is right.”
School felt like forever. All of my classes passed in a blur. Everyone avoided me like the plague, and whispered behind their hands when I walked past. I didn’t really care. I rested my head on my hands and wished Alfie was here. Whispering that everything would be okay.
Creak
When the last bell rang I plodded through the halls. The chatter around me had blended into a monotonous stream of nothing. I looked around me and saw Alfie’s face around me, in the couples making out near the lockers, in the teenagers huddled together like penguins.
My heart ached again.
Alfie…
My dad’s van was waiting for me at the school entrance, coughing up smoke like an old, retired dragon. It was jammed full of boxes and things wrapped in bubble paper. I was surprised it could even move a centimetre without something breaking inside.
“Hop in Skye,” said my dad, poking his head out of one window.
“Um, where are we going?”
“To my old place,” Emily explained, poking her head out of the other window. “I—we—thought it would be good for you, for…for the both of us.”
“After…after…y’know.”
Alfie died.
The wind was still once more, as if mourning over him in its deep grief too. I crumbled against the side of the van, letting hot tears stream down my cheeks.
Alfie…
Without a word more I climbed into the van and my dad sped off immediately. I gazed outside the window, watching country roads blend into billboards and highways, and let the van rock me into a soothing sleep.
“We’re here. Wake up, Sleepy Skye.”
Emily’s house, as it turned out, was a two-storey monster tucked away from the heart of the city. The paint was peeling away and the bricks underneath were slick with slime. Mold crawled between the bricks and stayed there, dying the house green. I turned away and nearly threw up.
“This way,” Emily said, climbing a set of stairs. It was really dark, and everything was covered in shadow. The only source of light was a small Gothic window that shone through the gloom in a weak white arm. Set at the side of the stairwell was a black iron door. I started towards it, but Emily glared at me, so I abandoned the door and followed her.
The second floor was surprisingly well-kept. The floors were swept and the walls clean of dust. Picture frames depicting bugs and scarabs hung onto the wall, polished until it shone. There was even a pot of tea on the table.
“Knock yourself out,” Emily said as she collapsed onto the couch. She closed her eyes.
“Make yourself at home.”
“It stinks,” I observed, wrinkling my nose.
In fact it was the worst stink I had ever smelled in my life. It tore through the walls and floors like it was made of paper and I gagged. I sprinted to the window, stuck my head out and breathed in relief.
Emily raised an eyebrow.
“There’s some…construction going on downstairs,” she explained. “We just got here, so bear with it a little longer, okay Skye?”
“Yeah,” I choked. My eyes were watering. If I could see the smell it would be a big black cloud hovering in the air, howling and shaking in its stinky fury.
“Can I explore the city? I need some fresh air.”
“Go ahead,” Emily said, turning away. “Just be back for dinner.”
I nodded. I had never sprinted out of my old house so fast in my life, rubbing my smarting eyes. Even at the distance I could smell it, and once again I felt like throwing up.
After some time I slowed to a walk and really started to look around. It wasn’t much of a city—and it also wasn’t much of a town—but somewhere in between. It was getting quite late in the day with the sun streaming slowly in from the west, but the town felt…alive in a way. Shopkeepers hollered their wares from the inside of their ornate walls, and people were strolling on the streets, their arms interlocked laughing and whistling.
I tried not to think of Alfie.
A couple of blocks away I saw a large diner, its neon sign beckoning me inside. Getting closer I could smell heaven: char-grilled meats, fresh cakes and cookies, and something else in a fryer or oven.
My stomach growled. I wiped off my drool with my sleeves.
Pushing the door open, I went in.
The diner was abuzz with chatter and laughter; people were toasting each other with glasses of beer and ale. Yet everything died the moment I came in. Time stood still; heads swiveled to look at me and a collective gasp rose from the frozen crowd. I felt like an animal in a zoo as I navigated through the chaos and found a table to sit.
“Don’t mind ‘em.”
The speaker was a living Popeye, with a big, floppy nose and bigger arms that bulged with muscles and fat and a tattoo of a beetle instead of an anchor. He was wearing a greasy, bloody apron and a cap that was too small for a nest of blonde hair.
“It’s been a while since we had anyone new around here. Thirteen years, in fact. Also, hold on…”
He squinted hard at me, his eyes moving from my head down to my legs.
“Are you Skye?”
Goosebumps pricked my skin once more. I looked outside and realised the wind had once again stood still.
“Yes! How do you know?”
The man opposite me thought for a moment, then shouted something to the kitchens. Then he sat down opposite me and grinned, revealing yellowed teeth.
“Your stepmom talks about you a lot. She adores you, you know.”
He cupped my head in his hands and brushed a lock of hair off my head. Tears welled in his eyes.
“You look a lot like your mom. Same face, same eyes.”
He knocked on my face like it was a piece of wood.
Click clock
“Rock solid too.”
My hair stood up on my skin as I stared straight into the eyes of this man who I just met.
“Y-you know my biological mom too?”
The man’s smile grew even wider. “Let’s just say…kind of.”
He extended his hand. “I’m sorry I haven’t introduced myself earlier. Call me Mr Lancaster. I’m the owner here.”
“I’m pleased to meet you too,” I replied, shaking his hand.
“Boss? Everything is ready.”
One of the waiters skidded to a halt near our table. He was a handsome youth—freckles and curly red hair. He held out a huge plastic bag to me.
Mr Lancaster smiled at me in a way that made my heart melt.
“Fish and chips. And I threw in some strawberry milkshakes as well. It’s one of our best dishes on the menu. Emily is always going on and on about how crazy you are for ‘em.”
“Wow! Thank you Mr Lancaster!”
“It’s on the house too. A welcome gift from me. Tell your stepmom she doesn’t have to pay back a single cent.”
He glanced out at the darkening sky, sweat mopping his brow.
“You better be going now. It’s getting late. See you soon, Skye. You’re always welcome here.”
And with that, he practically shoved me out of the door.
The bell tinkled as I stumbled onto the street, nearly tripping over the food. It was really heavy, mind you. Like a thousand dumb-bells made out of solid gold. By the time I reached my flat my arms ached.
I dropped the takeaway on the floor and sat down on one of the stairs to rest. The sun had completely set at this point; long, thin shadows crawled across the wall to the corners. Soon I was plunged in darkness. I could barely see my hand in front of my face.
My vision suddenly cleared, and I realised I could see. Somehow. Dark shapes shifted and twisted before my eyes, but I could still make out details of every brick, every scratch on the stairs and wall. The takeaway sat untouched before me.
It was like looking through an extremely grainy CCTV.
BANG BANG BANG!
As the bangs echoed throughout the hallway I froze, the excitement of my discovery gone.
BANG BANG BANG!
SKYYYYYYYYYYYYYEEEEEE!
My name was shouted with great abandon, the call tinged with sorrow and pain. I inched closer and realised that it was coming from the iron door.
SKYYYYYYYYYYEEEEEEEE!
Whoever was calling me was thrashing against the door, making the hinges shake. I backed away, my heart in my throat. All the hair on my skin was standing up straight.
BANG BANG BANG!
The stink slapped me in the face, making my nose itch. My eyes didn’t leave the door as I scrambled up the stairs to the main apartment, leaving everything in the dust.
It was only when I slammed the door behind me and sprinted down the hallway to my bedroom did I realise I forgot the takeaway still sitting at the bottom of the stairs.
Oh well I told myself, trying to calm my shaking heart. I can go back in a few minutes.
I’m sure Emily and Dad won’t mind.
The city had fallen asleep. The hustle and bustle seemed to have vanished with the last of the sun. The streets were illuminated faintly with lamps that shone like a halo. My room looked like it belonged in a horror movie.
I lay on my bed for a while, squeezing my eyes shut and listening to my heart beat. The screams had long died down, but I somehow heard them long and clear in my mind, as if blasted by an invisible loudspeaker.
SKYEEEEEEE!
Low and loud, like a foghorn from a ship lost at sea.
SKYEEEEEEEEE!
“Shut up!” I screamed, my eyes welling with tears. I curled up in a ball and squeezed my head with my pillow. Even then the screams rammed against the sides of my head, over and over again, and I was dizzy from the pain.
Eventually I got out of bed and wandered throughout the house, hoping for something to distract myself from the eternal noise. The apartment was shaded in the same grainy darkness, except for the dining-room, which was glowing invitingly like a crackling campfire. Something clanged and tinkled. Cutlery probably. Either Emily or my dad setting the table. My stomach grumbled. The smell from the diner was making me hungry.
I started towards the dining room but then I heard it. A strange chitter-chatter. Like crickets, even though we lived so far from nature.
It was coming from the pictures hanging on the wall.
I hadn’t paid much attention to them when I first came in, but now it was drawing me closer like a moth to a flame. The bugs chittered again, and their legs twisted and struggled, almost like it was dancing. Looking closer, I realised that all the pictures depicted the same figure. A woman in various poses with the head of a bug with too-large eyes. She was wearing a dress that shone like fire and was glaring at the camera.
“Mom?”
I clapped my hand over my mouth. I didn’t know where that came from. I looked nothing like her. I didn’t know her. It was my first time seeing her.
But Alfie…
No, no, no! I’m mad! I must be going mad! It’s the screams, I thought, the screams were driving me cuckoo! Making me think crazy thoughts!
I forced myself to look away and shove those thoughts out of my mind. I didn’t know what to believe anymore.
“Skye? Dinner time!”
Emily’s calls broke through the confusing mess in my head. I was grateful that she came to my rescue. Glancing back at the photo of my mum (no, she isn’t! How can I be related to…that?), I scurried down the hallway and into the dining room.
Emily had saved the takeaway.
It sat between us on the newly-dusted table. Emily pulled out foil containers and set one each before me and my dad.
“Mr Lancaster called about the fish and chips,” she explained. “He was delighted to have met you, Skye.”
She ruffled my hair, and chuckled as she handed me a strawberry milkshake. “But it looked like his little delivery girl got cold feet on her first order, eh?”
“Emily!” I groaned. I took a long sip and licked my lips. The milkshake was delicious. Rich, creamy and filled with enough sugar to make my insulin go straight into overdrive.
“Hey,” I noted, sitting down after a while. The pure sweetness of that drink was enough to make my head spin. “Mr Lancaster made some extra fish and chips.”
And it stank too. Almost as much as whatever is behind that iron door.
“Oh, that’s nothing,” Emily said quickly, sweeping the bag off the table and rushing it to the kitchen. “Mr Lancaster always makes me extra. He knows I’m always hungry after midnight!”
I chuckled nervously, feeling the weight of my worries lift off my shoulders. Emily did eat a lot after midnight. A couple of times I had spotted her sneaking to the living room with the television on and a bag of chips.
Yet this particular container stuck out like a sore thumb. Not just the smell, or how big it was compared to the others, but…but, was it me or was it glowing?
I buried that thought into the deepest recesses of my mind. No. I had enough wild and crazy thoughts and visions for one night.
Succumbing to them was not what Alfie would have wanted.
That was not what any of us would have wanted.
Once we had finished dinner, I helped to clear the table and wash the cutlery. Emily turned to me and said:
“I’ve got some things to do tonight. Take care, Skye, and take care of your dad.”
“He does not look well.”
Sick actually. Dad looked like he was going to throw up. He staggered to the couch and passed out on the leather. I couldn’t help but pity him. Fifty-six years old, and all that oil into the fish and chips was not doing his heart any good.
“I’ll look after him,” I promised.
“Good girl.” Emily gave me another thin smile. She pulled on a jacket—a black jacket with a golden rim—and gave me a kiss on my forehead.
“I won’t be long.”
Emily strode out of the house, taking the last box of fish and chips with her. There was something clinking in her pocket, like suits or armor banging together. And just as she stepped out of the front door, she pulled out that something from her pocket. I only saw it for a brief second, but it was enough to make my heart race.
It was a key. But not just any key.
This one was black. Like evil. Like ash. Like the iron door.
It smirked at me as it hid back in her pocket. A shiver ran up my spine.
“Emily, wait!”
“Is there a problem, Skye?”
“Yeah. I wanna ask you something.”
I took a deep, shaky breath. There was a lump in my throat and my heart was beating way too fast.
“The iron door on the first floor…what’s behind it?”
“It’s nothing, Skye,” Emily said. Her eyes darted to somewhere behind me and fixed on one of the bug women. “Just some of my old stuff, y’know? From before I met your dad?”
“Right…”
“Now I have to go. I’ll be late otherwise. I’ll see you later, okay Skye?”
I swallowed as I watched her leave. Uncertainty still sat tight in my stomach, wound up like a spring, and wouldn’t let go.
“Dad? You okay?”
No response. My dad was out like a light.
Then his eyes shot open.
I gulped.
They got bigger and bigger. I saw each individual vein popping out and weaving into each other like mini spider webs.
Then it bulged and swelled. His head enlarged to accommodate it.
Chills shot down my spine as I realised exactly what was going on.
“Dad?”
Click click click.
His lips split and burst into mandibles. I scrambled over and held his hand.
“Don’t do this to me. Don’t be like Alfie.”
I was crying. I was shaking. Oh god, I was shaking so bad it felt like I was in an earthquake.
Click click click
I scrambled over and held his hand. It only seemed to make it worse, however. I watched as it shrank and turned black and folded into itself.
“Dad! Fight it!”
He hunched over and coughed out so much more blood.
Ack ack ack
“DAD!”
His spine was curving over and hardening into a black shell. I dropped his hand and backed away into a corner, my face white.
Ack ack ack.
The floor was blooming. Grass spread thin like a carpet and tall trees grew. I saw red flowers explode onto new branches, like a bundle of fireworks.
My dad clicked and clacked, as if enjoying the new scenery.
No…
My skin was crawling. Literally. I looked down and saw bumps pulsing beneath the folds, marching along to my heartbeat. Then it broke and a cockroach popped out. It took a deep breath, bowed, clicked and clacked in the same rhythm as my dad’s—slow and steady, a pulse—
And…
And I SWEAR I heard the cockroach say:
“Your Highness.”
I screamed. It bounced off new grass and fresh flora.
I’m really going mad now.
I pinched myself, wondering if I was living in some kind of nightmare. But I wasn’t. It was as real as the still lights from the street lamps shining in through the window.
Click clack.
More cockroaches were spilling out from my skin like a dam left unchecked. My dad looked at me inquisitively. Cement was quickly turning into dirt.
Click clack
My thoughts were clambering over each other as I squatted, paralysed in my corner, watching the cockroaches with my mouth open. My dad—no longer human—crawled into the walls and towards me. Staring at the roaches and slowly reaching out to them. They squeaked and climbed over him.
This was too much. I did the only thing I could think of.
My phone was butter in my hands. My vision blurred and I kept on punching in the wrong numbers.
Thankfully, Emily answered the phone on the first ring.
I took a deep breath and screamed into the receiver. My voice was shaking so bad I was surprised I could say anything at all.
“EMILY! HELP!”
SK

We are 2.5 games behind the Warriors, #6 in the west and with 8 games left, we have to go at least 6-2 if not 8-0 to have a shot at avoiding the play-in. Does the team even have enough juice to pull that off? It often seems like they are running on fumes and the whole vibe is just really bad. It's going to be a hard final sprint.

This post was originally a reply to a question on one of my other posts here, but it really deserves its own more detailed post simply because even over 30 years later it just makes me and a lot of others go “Eeh? How did that actually happen?”
When it comes to sporting rivalries in Australia, Ford vs Holden is one of the longest. Today, it’s hard to believe with Ford no longer making cars in Australia and Holden no longer even existing but there was a time were what car Australians drove really mattered. Were you a Holden family with Monaro’s, Torana’s and Commodores or a Ford family with a Falcon in your driveway? It was one or the other. No in between. There are stories of Holden-driving fathers refusing to allow their daughters to date boys simply because their dads drove Fords. The battles were fought on every level: advertising, dealers and from the mid-1960’s on the racetrack. And that’s were our story kicks off…
It's 1967 and for the first time, an Australian-made car has won the Bathurst 500. A Ford Falcon XR driven by Harry Firth and Fred Gibson wins the race and Ford Australia are ecstatic. A phrase commonly used at the time is “Win on Sunday, sell on Monday.” Winning Bathurst was a big deal and Ford reaped the benefits with sales and foot traffic into their dealerships. Crucially it really hurt their main rivals Holden.
For 1968 Holden wanted revenge on the racetrack. They had a great car in which to get it too, the Monaro. There was however, a bit of a problem. You see Holden despite being proudly Australian was owned by General Motors and at the time, GM had a blanket ban on their manufacturers going motor racing.
Pretty much everyone within Holden wanted to go racing though, so the Holden heavies looked for a loophole that would get them on the Bathurst grid and they quickly found one. They realised that there was nothing to stop them giving some money to their dealers and telling the dealers to then give said money to an idependant race team and voila! You’ve got yourself an all-but-official factory race team that gets around the GM ban. The man at the head of this team is David McKay, Australia’s first touring car champion. He’s ready to take on Ford’s leader Harry Firth.
For the 1968 Bathurst 500, the Holden vs Ford battlelines are drawn. And Holden gets its revenge as Firth’s Ford’s flounder. Strangely though, it’s a privateer Monaro that takes the chequered flag first. McKay brings his factory-but-not-really-factory-just-in-case-Detroit-gets-wind-of-this Monaro’s home second, third and fifth. And then he made an error. He failed to protest against the winning Monaro that some alleged ran with an illegal brake system. Holden’s heavies weren’t happy at all. They were in it to win with their own cars not their customers. And then for McKay, things got worse.
After Bathurst, Holden and Ford would face off again in the 1968 London to Sydney Marathon, the most epic car race ever staged. Almost 100 teams from all over the world took part but Australia was only focused on Firth & McKay. They were evenly matched. 3 Falcons for Firth and 3 Monaro’s for McKay. And just like Bathurst, neither of them won.
But in the Ford vs Holden battle, Ford came out most definitely on top, finishing 3rd, 6th and 8th and taking the best performing team award for their troubles. McKay’s Monaro’s came home 12th, 14th and McKay’s lead car DNF’ed after rolling in the Australian outback. And that was the last straw for Holden. McKay had failed them.
Ford Australia meantime was going through a restructure. The restructure involved refreshing their racing team. And incredibly, that meant showing Harry Firth the door. Big Mistake. Huge. You’d think after his marathon efforts, Ford would be pretty chuffed, but they got rid of him. Holden pounced. Within a fortnight, Harry was a Holden man. All his mechanics and engineers went with him. This was the start of what became the Holden Dealer Team.
Despite nicking all of Ford’s mechanics and tech know-how, Firth failed to poach their drivers. That forced him to go searching for young talent. He eventually found Colin Bond a promising rally and circuit driver and then noticed a driver of a little blue Austin A30 that was giving almost every competitor a complete belting. His name? Peter Brock.
For Bathurst 1969, Firth did what McKay couldn’t: Deliver the Holden factory a Bathurst win. Bond won, Brock was third and just behind was Ford’s new lead driver. He was an ex-pat Canadian who looked like an angry maths teacher. His name? Allan Moffat. A rivalry had just started.
For 1970 & ’71, Moffat dominated the Bathurst enduro in the mighty GTHO Falcon but in 1972, Brock struck back for Holden. That win made him the golden boy of Australian motorsport. Brock wore the white hat: hippy-handsome, a great driver and a man of the people, driving the Australian car. Moffat wore the black hat: cranky, methodical, withdrawn and representing the American manufacturer.
For 1973 the ante was turned up. The Bathurst race went from imperial to metric. 500 miles became 1000 kilometres. The regulations changed from Improved Production (stock-standard production cars with minimal upgrades. Some were even road registered) to the more liberal Group C Touring Cars. Moffat cleaned up in ’73 but it wasn’t all doom and gloom for Holden when at the end of the year, Ford pulled the plug on its factory race team. From 1974 Moffat was forced to go it alone in his own team with only back-door support from Ford.
But Holden wasn’t without its troubles either. At the end of 1974, Brock had a blow-up with Firth and left the HDT. Some say Firth fired him. Others say Brock grew tired of Firth’s iron fist approach to running the team and dipped out.
In two years both the white knight and the black knight were out on their own. And yet…they excelled. Despite driving a shoestring budget Holden, Brock won Bathurst in 1975. Moffat was a constant front-runner. The back-door support from Ford helped. The Holden Dealer Team though remained THE Team. Firth still ran it efficiently and he still had Colin Bond. Like Brock though, Bond was growing tired of Firth. He was paid next to nothing for his driving and expected to be on spanner duty in the workshop. So when Allan Moffat made him an offer at the end of 1976, Colin accepted.
In 1977, to quote Moffat: “We blew the doors off Holden”. With the HDT now minus their two star drivers, Holden floundered on the track. Moffat’s Ford team was well-backed and well-organised and as a result, Moffat in Falcon #1 and Bond in Falcon #2 dominated the year. The crowning glory was their 1-2 formation finish at Bathurst. Ford got an insane amount of mileage out of it. Nearly 50 years later, it remains one of the most iconic images of Australian motorsport. At the end of the year an exasperated Holden official approached Moffat and in desperation asked: “What can we do to beat you?”
Moffat shrugged and replied “Simple. Re-employ Brock”
With Harry Firth retiring, that’s exactly what they did. For 1978, Brock was back as a driver for the HDT. Moffat’s honest reply to that Holden official came back to bite him in the clacker. With money from Ford drying up, Moffat began to flounder and Brock dominated for the next two years, culminating in the 1979 Bathurst 1000 were he won by a whopping 6 laps and broke the lap record on the final lap. What a show off.
But then right after that epic performance…Holden pulled the plug. They were done.
Brock however refused to give up. He assumed ownership of the team and over Christmas, embarked on a whistle-stop tour of the Holden dealerships offering them a deal. The deal he offered them was a tricked-up road-going Holden Commodore built by the HDT. Any Holden dealership who helped fund the race team got exclusive access to sell the road-going car. The campaign was a success. Over 100 dealerships signed up putting the ‘Dealer’ right back into the Holden Dealer Team and HDT Special Vehicles was born.
In the early 1980’s, the HDT lead by Brock was a juggernaut both on and off the racetrack. Bathurst victory after Bathurst victory and the road car business boomed. Initially, Holden were reluctant but seeing the demand, they supported the program. By 1981 the first HDT road cars were delivered to the clamouring dealers. As Brock’s number one lieutenant and teammate John Harvey put it “Demand was so high, we couldn’t make them quick enough!”
The Group C Touring Car era ended at the end of 1984 and the Holden Dealer Team looked every bit like champions. Multiple Bathurst and other race wins, a road car arm that was fast becoming a great Australian success story and the best and most popular driver in the country at the head of it.
What next?
For 1985, Australia adopted international Group A Touring Car regulations. With every touring car series all over the world running to these regulations, you could take a car all over the world and race it. Pretty cool right? Brock certainly thought so and started planning...
But before we get to the HDT takes on the world part, let’s back up a bit. At the back end of 1984, Peter Brock was absolutely knackered. On top of driving, running the race team, an unsuccessful Le Mans campaign and the road car division, he liked a drink and a smoke or ten. Heck the HDT’s main sponsor was Marlboro. There were rumours he was really, really crook.
Ultimately, Brock found a chiropractor called Eric Dowker who got him back into shape. Dowker also got him off the grog and the cigs and even got him to go vegan.
For 1985, Peter Brock rolled out ready for the Group A era. He was in much better health by now thanks to Dowker’s interesting therapy (we’ll get to that in a minute). Mobil replaced Marlboro as the main sponsor on the race cars and Brock set about plans to take on the world.
First thing he needed to do was to sell enough road going HDT cars to satisfy the Group A rules. Once he had done that, the race Holden could be based off the HDT road car with all the tricked-up bits on it. By the end of 1985, he had done just that.
1986 was going to be a big year for the HDT. Their new car was ready to take on not just Australia but also Europe. Brock was looking ahead to 1987 and the World Touring Car Championship that going to take place. As well as his regular Australian campaign he was going to take the HDT to Europe for a partial campaign in the European series as ‘dress rehearsal’ for the WTCC a year later.
And then Brock did something unthinkable. He invited Allan Moffat to morning tea at his workshop. At the time, Moffat was unemployed. After his Ford support dried up, he became a Mazda man which didn’t make him more popular. In fact it made him less popular. Signs that read ‘no Jap-Crap’ were prominent around Australian racetracks in the early 80’s. He had delivered them a reasonable amount of success but when the Group A era started, Mazda didn’t have a car that would fit the regulations. Moffat was out of a job when the phone rang with Brock’s morning tea invite.
According to Moffat “Morning tea turned into long lunch, long lunch became afternoon tea and I drove home in a HDT Commodore, my new company car.”
All of Australian motorsport chocked on their breakfast when they read the headline ‘Moffat joins HDT’. Superman had just hired Lex Luther. “What the actual f**k?” said literally everyone.
With everyone still in shock, Brock & Moffat started off 1986 with a win in New Zealand, their first race as teammates. They both looked at each other after the race and almost simultaneously asked “Why didn’t we do this a decade earlier?” And then everyone got it. The best driver in Australia had hired the second-best driver in Australia. A pretty good duo to take on the world, yeah?
The first half of 1986 was a busy one for the HDT. The Australian championship, the partial European campaign that culminated in the Spa 24 Hour in Belgium and the ever-expanding road car business, Peter Brock was a man who looked to have it made. As Moffat put it, “Peter was well on his way to becoming a millionaire while the rest of us were just journeymen”.
And then…
Then came the Energy Polariser.
This is when things turn to sh*t.
As I said Eric Dowker was a key part of Brock’s life. Along with going smoke and grog-free, part of his treatments involved crystals and all sorts of stuff that would be considered “New Age”. Noticing how well it had worked on him, Brock became a full-on convert. He was bordering on being obsessed with these damn crystals and then he had an idea: If crystals and help human performance, what about car performance?
The idea seemed innocent enough, but most would have written it off. Brock didn’t. According to some from within the HDT, crystals were getting dangled around the engine dyno and other areas of the workshop. Dowker started appearing at every race meeting in full HDT uniform. He was mockingly referred to as “Doctor Feelgood”.
Ultimately, Brock and Dowker came up with a small plastic box filled with a pair of magnets separated by some crystals embedded in epoxy resin. It was held to the firewall of a car by a single self-tapping screw. The Energy Polariser.
According to Brock “It’s a magic cure. It makes a shithouse car good.”
Brock had already been quietly fitting them to the race cars without telling the other drivers. John Harvey only found out when the polariser broke off its mounting point during a practice session and almost went under his brake pedal.
Brock then started offering them to customers. For just $467AUD you could have this little box of magic fitted to the firewall of your car and it would cure all its ills (allegedly).
Now put yourself in Holden’s shoes. You have an image to maintain right? And then you find out your golden boy is with no scientific basis, putting a box of crystals in cars that have your name and badge on them claiming that they’re “Aligning the molecules of the engine”. Hmm…
So very reasonably, Holden at this point is saying “Uh Peter? This Energy Polariser thingy? What’s the thinking behind it? Seems a bit fishy to us.”
Brock and Dowker respond to Holden with a press release. It was essentially one page of complete and utter gibberish were Brock and Dowker crap on about “vibrations” and how the Polariser will “align the molecules in its sphere of influence”. Want to give yourself a migraine? Here it is in all its glory (apologies for the quality): https://hsvclubnsw.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/02/DB-Technology-Polariser-Statement.pdf
Remember, this isn’t a cult leader or a pyramid scheme sales pitch or a Byron Bay “Instagram influencer” coming out with this. This is coming from a racing car driver.
The real concerning thing for Holden and anyone who knows a thing or two about cars was the recommended tyre pressures for a Polariser-equipped car: 20 psi. For those of you who don’t know, that’s all but flat. But according to Brock, that’s okay because “the molecules will be aligned, and all will be well…”
At best it was all pseudoscience and at worst it was downright dangerous. Holden were alarmed and insisted on properly testing it. To nobody’s surprise it was found to be simply what it looked like: a box of crystals. Brock then went over Holden’s head to General Motors thinking that surely the mothership would hear him out. They didn’t. Still though, Brock rejected the perfectly reasonable findings that his box of crystals was useless. He even lied to Holden that when GM tested it, they thought it was brilliant and were considering making it a standard feature in all their cars. A quick phone called from Australia to America proved that to be false. As far as Brock was concerned, the Energy Polariser was so advanced, there wasn’t a way to properly test it. Holden were NOT happy at this point.
Brock though didn’t care. Even when the Australian Sceptic’s Society awarded him their ‘Bent Spoon Award’, he pushed on determinedly creating a road car that in his mind would be his and the HDT’s crowning glory: The Director.
All this culminated in February 1987.
The World Touring Car Championship that the HDT were going to take on? Nope. Brock pulled the pin leaving co-drivers Moffat and Harvey (who were both finalising sponsorship deals) out in the cold.
And then he really, really shot himself in the foot when he launched The Director. As an aside, The Director was one badass looking car. Based on the Holden VL Commodore with a low body kit and flared rear wing it still looks the goods today. But Holden took a dim view of it for two main reasons:

1. It came with the Energy Polariser fitted as standard.
2. It featured a new independent rear suspension system developed by the HDT that Holden hadn’t tested or approved.

Holden had asked for more time to evaluate the suspension, but Brock ignored them and refused to even allow Holden to test it. On top the Energy Polariser, it was the last straw.
At the launch of The Director Brock stood in front of The Director that sat on a rotating platform and said the words that put the final nail in the HDT’s coffin:
“We have a motor car which you can probably see circulating behind me which is capable of gaining us some much-earned export dollars and Holden are trying to stop me and I’m a pretty determined sort of person and I’m pressing on. They said to me, if you Peter Brock announce this car at the end of this week, we will withdraw all support. Well, I’ve gone ahead, and I’ve announced it.”
After that, Holden were officially done. They terminated their partnership with the HDT. The dealers cut the support to the race team and the money dried up. The road car business was finished and the race team was decimated. Allan Moffat and John Harvey resigned.
Here's a news report that sums up the events: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZZZpP4fbgeE&t=196s
Moffat summed it up best in his autobiography: “I have been through the corporate wringer myself. I have railed against bureaucracy and been frustrated by people who simply won’t be reasonable and do things my way. I have, in my view, been severely let down by people I’ve trusted-although possibly they don’t share that opinion. But if I’d been in a position where I had General Motors in my hip pocket, I would never, never, never have put myself above them. That’s not corporate cowardice; it’s just common sense.”
The HDT was done. Or was it? You see although Holden didn’t want a bar of Brock, his main sponsor Mobil reasoned that he was still the fan favourite and therefore, still money in the bank and agreed to sponsor what was left of the team. He just needed a bit of extra cash to keep him racing. And it came from an unlikely source.
He had three race cars left in his workshop. Two were for racing in Australia and the third was for the aborted World Touring Car campaign. Three men showed up to look at that car. They told Brock they represented a huge fan of his who wanted to own a bit of Brock history. They wrote a cheque for $125 000, gave it to Brock, put the car on their trailer and took it straight to the car’s new owner: Allan Moffat.
Moffat and John Harvey ended up doing what Brock was going to do: Have a crack at the World Championship. It was only a partial campaign on a shoestring budget, but they took a victory at Monza and an outstanding 4th outright at the Spa 24 Hour, driving as a two-man team when everyone else had 3. For me, as an Australian motorsport nutcase, this remains one of the biggest ‘what-ifs’. I mean just imagine if Brock pulled his head in and they had a proper well-financed crack at it. The HDT could have been world champions…
But that’s all hypotheticals. For 1987, Brock ran a much leaner operation. He had a quiet Australian championship. No wins and no podiums. He was even lapped in several races. He cut a dejected figure. And then…
He went out and won the Bathurst 1000.
Against the world’s best (Bathurst was part of the World Touring Car Championship), and in a shoestring budget sh*tbox of a car, he won the damn thing! (I’ve covered that race more thoroughly in a previous post here. Just check my profile for the “Nice wheel arches mate” story. Highly recommend, great read 😉)
After 1987 though, Brock really was in the wilderness. He spent 1988 in an uncompetitive BMW and 1989 & 1990 in a, wait for it, in a Ford. He did win a handful of races but was far from the force he once was. At the end of 1990 the team was officially closed down.
For 1991 Brock went back to Holden, albeit as a privateer, again with minimal success. For 1994 though, Holden took him back in a factory capacity. After the HDT was wound down, Holden backed a new factory squad run by the Tom Walkinshaw Racing empire, the Holden Racing Team. For 1994, the HRT reasoned that commercially, having the people’s champion and the money from Mobil that came with him was a good thing. Brock was back albeit just as a driver. He had no say in the running of the team. Still, he became more competitive again, but he never quite rediscovered his untouchable brilliance from the late 70’s and early 80’s. The younger generation was taking over. By the end of 1997, he retired from fulltime driving.
The problem for Brock, was that retirement didn’t suit him. He was restless and kept on having little comebacks. Some were successful, others less so. He also got right into tarmac rallying which would sadly be the death of him. Ask any Australian motor racing fan where they were and what they were doing on the 8th of September 2006, and they will be able to tell you. I know I can. Driving in a Targa Rally in Western Australia, Brock’s Daytona Coupe went driver’s door first into a thick gum tree. He was killed instantly. All of Australia went into mourning for the second time in just a couple of days. Steve Irwin had died earlier in the week. September ’06 sucked if you were Australian.
It's been over 15 years since Peter Brock died. Many books, documentaries and podcasts have been made about him. There’s no doubt that he was THE fan favourite of Australian motorsport and his legacy and success is still revered today. And yet, when you bring up February 1987 and the events leading up to it to a Brock-diehard even they’ll admit it wasn’t his finest hour. Good people sometimes make bad decisions.
To finish up, here’s an ironic twist to the story. Since Brock’s death, the value of the HDT road cars has spiked due to their heritage and rareness. But the most valuable of all? That would be The Director. Only 9 were made before the HDT road car division was shut down so their value has soared. Originally priced at $87 000 when launched in 1987, one of them sold at auction for well over $300 000 in 2010. The same car that brought the company down is now the most valuable car that it produced.
And yes, it came equipped with the Energy Polariser.

Our heroine Becky G is walking around the diva hotel, wearing only a red laced bra and draped bottoms, presenting her very toned abs held beneath her sun kissed skin, carrying her juicy thicc ass, swaying side to side with each step, as she looks for her opponent she’s scheduled to wrestle. That’s when she hears thudding steps running behind her. Before she can look behind her, she’s barged into by the running girl, sending her losing her footing, only to be only saved from falling by hitting the wall.’There you are’ says the runner, turning herself around to reveal herself as Chloe Bennet her rival. ‘So how about I just knock your ass out cold and end this feud, before I really get messy with you,’ says Chloe. Becky, chuckling, replies ‘This isn’t one of your shitty little tv shows, this is real life, where the great women kick ass, and the bitches take the beatings. I don’t want to hurt you Chloe, but if you touch me, you’re going to feel the fiesty side of me, and the fury of these fists wil end you.’ However, as Becky begins to hurt Chloe emotionally by dissing her, Chloe gives Becky a menacing look, and charges at her! Chloe grips Beckys biceps as she pushes Becky back with each step, her taller, thinner frame slightly towering over Becky. Chloe starts gaining momentum, as Becky heart starts sinking,pain clearly on her face, much to Chloes pleasure. Chloe pushes her into the door, and within her room with each step, and finally barrages Becky against the wall, Becky struggling to use her power against her rivals superior strength, due to her height. ‘Now who’s the superior woman’ cackles Chloe, as she plunges her fist into Beckys abs, making Becky whince, and knees her, making Becky crumble onto all fours, then is thrown across the floor a few centimetres by Chloes might. Chloe then quickly shoves her foot into Beckys asscheek, making the flesh ripple around it. ‘I just kicked your ass!’ Screams Chloe, laughing with extreme pleasure, ‘Latina bitch! U latinas are all the same, all talk, but no muscle, no threat. I’m not finished with you yet, I’ll prove to you who the “better woman” is!’Exclaims Chloe. This enrages Becky! ‘I can’t be humiliated by that cunt Becky!’ She thinks, ‘she’s gonna learn a lesson about latinas from this fiesty one’ Her eyes flame up, seeing red. She can’t bare to feel like less of a woman than Chloe bennet. So, when Chloe stomps over to Becky for some ground and pound, Becky rapidly elbows Chloe in the nose, making Chloe stumble back, and Becky pounces back up, like a cheetah, still feeling the pain of Chloes previous knee to the abs, and gives a strong right hook full of hate to Chloes face, after she was already recovering from her elbow, making her let out a little shriek of pain. Becky then uses her boxing skills to her advantage, taking full control of Chloes body, bruising her up and knocking her about the room with straight rights, until Chloes back hits the other side of the room, then body shots to Chloes stomach, Becky screaming with rage as she fires each fist, and Chloe screaming with pain, hunched over by the power of each shot Becky charges up. It looks like Chloe is ready to fall into unconsciousness by Beckys fists of fury any second now. But out of nowhere, Chloe manages to catch a fiery right hand from Becky to relinquish the punishment, making Beckys eyes widen. Before Becky can throw another cannon-like punch, Chloe grabs her other arm, leaving Becky unable to use those weapons of fists! Chloe knows she can’t outfight Becky, she isnt skilled enough, but she can outwrestle the smaller Becky, so that’s what she does. So Chloe, stumbling and near broken from the punishment she took, thrusts aside Becky into the wall, then Beckys pushed back into punishment. One headbutt by Chloe! 2 headbutts by Chloe! Becky needs to think fast, and before she is headbutted again, she pushes her foot into Chloes stomach with all the might she has left, shoving Chloe back, and freeing Beckys hands! Becky grabs Chloe and pushes her into the centre of the room. Becky follows her there, strutting toward her rival with confidence. Becky then charge up her shot and gives a straight right to Chloes face, followed by a hook to Chloes shoulder, and Chloe trades with a kick to the side of Becky and throws her off a couple steps by grabbing the laces of her bra and pushing her aside. They then both run into each other, and due to the punch Chloe has just taken to her shoulder, Becky just about is able to muscle Chloe about as she clutches her and begins to outmuscled and push Chloe toward the gap between the corner of the room and the bed. Her back completely arched forward, ass jiggling with each step she pushes Chloe forward. She exclaims, with her high pitched voice, a cute little ‘YARGH!’ as she gets Chloe and her in between the gap, Becky leading the charge of assault, and knees Chloe right in her abs, which are weaker and less defined than the latinas aesthetically chiselled set. This leads Chloe to flee a few steps away from her rival, currently kicking her ass and showing her what a real woman is. Chloe then fights against her pain and rotates 180 degrees with speed, sending a missile of a hand, a 1 in 1000 shot, that Becky hardly sees before it hits her face, completely connecting. The knockout-worthy punch leaves Becky scrawling away, and falling beside the wall. Still conscious. But barely. She is a wise fighter, so she knows at this point that if the fight continues this way, Chloe will end up heaving Becky above the ground, and throwing her back down, crashing her into unconsciousness and humiliation. She knew the only way to defeating her rival was by sending a spectacular stunt to her, while Chloe still hadn’t fully recovered. Chloe throws her arms onto Beckys bra laces, and shakes her up and down, Beckys heavenly, angelic body suspended by her bra, and being conquered by Chloe. ‘YOU BROKE MY NOSE IN THAT FIGHT YOU FUCKER IMGONNAKILLYOU!’ Beckys hand desperately searches upon the table besides her for any weapon as Chloe begins strangling Becky, draining the life away from her. A vase, that’s it! Beckys hand, carrying the vase, crashes upon Chloes head leaving a shard scratch or two, and resulting in Chloe jerking back to recover. Becky recovers her breath and is once again rushed with fight adrenaline ‘How about the jaw too?’ Says Becky in badass fashion as she eyes up her opponent for her next attack. Chloe starts darting forward, ‘break my jaw! Your gonna get your ass handed to you now latina!’ Becky then leverages one leg on top of the bed, back turned to Chloe, jumps up just before Chloe grabs her again, rotating mid jump in elegant fashion, forming a sprawling knee with her other leg, and grabs Chloes head, pulling her into the knee that crashes into Chloes face, sounding a CRACK from Chloes jaw! Becky lands in a feline-like position on all fours, and turns behind to check whether that was enough for her rival. Chloe was hardly conscious, cradling her hand on her nose and jaw. It clearly was enough; she wasn’t foolish enough to get back up. Becky lay down and caught her breath. She had taken a beating, but nonetheless, the electric spark of physical victory and conquering of her rival rushed through her. She let out a laugh. She was just able to prove her feminine superiority over her villainous enemy! ‘I almost feel sorry for u Chloe’ remarks Becky, ‘but I told you, the better woman wins’ and with that, Becky leaves, victorious.

Howdy, thought I'd write a fanfic in its purest form. Taking characters which are not mine and bending them to my will.
Ever since Slanek's little dog problem, always wanted him to have a meet up with the honeybadger. So here we are.
Special thanks to u/Banancake for permission to use Vikri.
Thanks to SP15 for Slanek and the universe.
Warning potential spoilers for Hunting with Predators.
As for Slanek, assuming shore leave post successful evac from Sillis.
Thanks for reading.
​
Memory transcript: Slanek, Venlil Space Corps
Date [standardized human time]: December 22, 2136
The sky was grey, with white powder raining relentlessly. Thick snow was piled up on the sides of the road which itself had a fine coat; the layered black lines carved by other traffic the only effort keeping it clear. In this weather they would be quickly erased, leaving the long power cable strung between frequent poles the only indicator of the road’s existence. The UN driver accompanying me had been quiet for a while now, focusing hard ahead, gripping the steering wheel despite the autonomous nature of our ride. All I could do was look out and survey the scenery, trying to calm my beating heart as our destination grew closer.
The landscape was muted in shape by its icy covering, only broken by the dark shapes of imposing trees; sometimes sparse, sometimes grouped to form a forest. Despite their stillness, they put me on edge. There were wolves out there, hiding in their shadows. Dogs were terrifying, despite Marcel’s frequent reminders that they were loyal and would not harm me, I could not shake that fear. But wolves, they were big, they were wild, and they were skilled at the hunt. Their existence would not have been tolerated on any other federation planet. Speh! They shouldn’t be tolerated here.
My concern when voiced was brushed off. Just stay in the car they said. Don’t stray from the town. But I had made the mistake of looking them up on the internet and had seen their hideous form. Compared to the terror of their fangs, this car felt awfully flimsy.
Regret once again began to seep in, but I shook it from my head. I refuse to disappoint Marcel again. Time and again my stupid fear of predators gets in the way. I loved Marcel, I accepted his nature. But that wasn’t enough. Tillis proved I had a long way to go before we could be on equal terms. Once again, he forgave me. Understood me. But surely there is a limit. I can’t rely on his kindness forever. I must be better.
As we drove a green sign caught my eye, standing out against the monotonous background. “HAMILTON 17”
A small town, deep in the wilderness. Since the bombing, it had lost a lot of its population due to the collapse of the supply network. Even those far from the bombing were still turned into refugees. However, it had recently served as a rendezvous point for some survivors from the battle of Earth. One, in particular, I had arranged to see.
Driving through town, it was clear some life had returned to it, though you could hardly call it bustling. A lit window here, a pedestrian there. Cars were few and far between. The house that was our destination was on the outskirts, part of the last remnants before the wilderness began. Why would a venlil choose to live in such a dangerous place like this? Is this not the definition of straying from town? A month ago I would have diagnosed this guy with predator disease but now I knew that to be somewhat ignorant. Stars, according to Marcel, I would have predator disease. That label stung, though I couldn’t dismiss it. But I wasn’t broken, was I? Defective? Surely not. Not to him at least. No, I was the best venlil, his words. ‘bout time I actually lived up to that high praise.
Upon pulling up at the house, a venlil came out to greet us. I was thankful to see that his…companion was elsewhere, hopefully secure. His tail curled around him slightly with unease though his ears were relaxed, dipping slightly to acknowledge my approach.
“Greetings Vikri, I’m Slanek. Thank you for agreeing to meet with me,” I gave a respectful ear flick in greeting.
“The pleasure is mine,” he replied, returning the greeting, his lips parting slightly revealing teeth though they were quickly hidden. “I am honoured to meet someone of your acclaim.” Acclaim? Me? “Sorry you had to come all this way but I’m reluctant to travel with her at the moment.”
His companion was why I was here, but to hear such casual reference to it was discomforting. I felt my ears press against my head in response, consciously moving them back to a neutral position.
“Would you like to come in?” He moved to open the door.
“Is…she…” I stammered. He gave a reassuring tail wag.
“She’s in the barn over there,” he said gesturing to a large wooden building some distance away. “Thought we might want to take this slowly. I know how terrifying dogs can be.” He gave a shudder.
Wait, he was scared of dogs too? This doesn’t make any sense. Didn’t he have predator’s disease?
“You’re scared of her?” I asked, incredulous.
“Not now, no. But I was. Terrified.” He looked out to the woods. “We were hunted by them you know. Wolves. Lucky was one of them.” His arms and tail wrapped around his body. “They are terrifying. Their persistence, their violence. They attacked my friends. Nearly ripped their arm off…I can still hear his screaming. See the blood.”
I was at a loss for words
“Then how…why…”
“Why did I befriend her?” He laughed softly. “It’s a long story. Come in. Are you familiar with human tea?”
“I have heard of it,” I replied, moving past him into the building and out of the cold.
--------
The room I entered was sparsely decorated, the furnishings that did fill the meagre space were mismatched and well-worn, with most being of wooden construction. On one wall was what appeared to be a strayu forge constructed of brick, though its opening was at ground level and covered with a metal plate adorned with simple imprints of Terran animals. I sat on a chair made of wood and cloth, perched upon two wooden arches that were unstable by design. Without care it would rock violently, risking the contents of the hot cup handed to me. Vikri occupied the only other chair in the room, notable for having a more respectable 4 legs.
“Have you seen humans hunt?” Vikri asked too casually, causing me to fumble the cup of steaming red liquid I was bringing to my lips. A scorching drop hit my leg.
“Uh, p-persistance hunting correct? Sounds terrifying,” I stammered, rubbing the sore, damp spot on my thigh.
“Not always,” he spoke steadily. “They are…adaptive. Tell me, how do you picture them, as they prepare to kill?”
The image of sharp teeth penetrated my head, moist lips drawn up in a snarl. Their binocular eyes locked on the living creature with hunger as it desperately tried to avoid its gruesome fate. I shook my head to clear it. These visions had finally disappeared after spending so long with Marcel. Why would Vikri reconjure them?
“Fearsome,” I replied. “Delighting in the hunt…like the Arxur.” Even though they still chose to eat meat, I’m glad they had done away with this savage past. Growing it was not dissimilar to plant farming in execution, though the mere thought of it still turned my stomach.
He nodded slowly, staring at me in the eye. A very human gesture.
“Yes, that’s what I expected too. Surely a people built around death would delight in it no?” His gaze softened. “But when the moment came, they were afraid. No blood lust, no savagery. Only quiet resolve” Vikri’s eyes broke contact as he reminisced. “I was scared too. But for them. They needed to do this to survive, and I feel that was the only reason they persevered.”
“You saw them hunt?” I interjected. His ears flicked the affirmative.
“And cook. And eat. It was necessary.” He appeared to study his drink. “But the meat, they enjoyed it. That was confronting. A part of me hoped they wouldn’t. But who was I to speak out against their simple pleasures in the snow and ice. After all they’d done for me.”
“I came to understand the hunters, but that means nothing when you are the prey. Wolfs set upon us, hunting us for hours. Their attacks viscous. Humans were one thing, but these were monsters. It was everything we were taught about predators and more.” He shuddered again.
“In the attack, many were injured. Quarek lost use of his arm. Tenga received life-threatening injuries too.”
I recognised Querek’s name but “Tenga?”
“Uh, he’s a…he was my human. If you understand.” I did.
“We killed a lot of them too, and good riddance I thought. But even after we escaped one kept following. If we had the rounds to spare I would have asked it be shot. But Tenga, he wasn’t like me. He pitied it. She was only trying to survive, like us, he said. Imagine that.” He scoffed. “Compassion for the predators that almost killed you… But he wasn’t wrong.”
“The dog just kept on following us. Devouring any snacks we threw her way but never attacking. It was stressful but if Tenga said she was safe, then I could only believe him. She apparently wanted a pack and the humans welcomed her. Named her Lucky.”
“I was still nervous but then we got attacked by an even bigger predator. A bear. It had me trapped and Lucky ran in to protect me. That dog chose me as someone she needed to protect. How could I dismiss her after that?” He stood up and walked to the window, staring at the barn in the distance. “She’s my partner now. As silly as that sounds. Part of my herd.” He turned back to me, his tail flicking in excitement, his ears showing apprehension. “So, do you still want to meet her?”
_____
Walking through the snow was an odd sensation. It stuck to my legs and penetrated my fur. My feet were quickly sapped of their heat but at least the air temperature was quite tolerable. My posture was hunched with my tail curled around me, but not from the cold.
Vikri ambled ahead, an ever so slight limp to his gait but otherwise confident, a small pouch was attached to a strap around his waist. It wasn’t long before we stood before imposing wooden doors. I heard a faint scratching and panting from the other side.
“I’ll go in first and keep her calm. I’ll call you when we’re ready.” With familiarity, he unlatched the door and cracked it open. A moist snout quickly appeared through the gap which he gently redirected inside before squeezing himself in.
“Good girl, good girl. We’re going to meet a friend so best behaviour alright.”
The sound of panting intensified as I heard movement from within.
“Ok, when you are ready,” he called out.
“Oh, Stars!”
With tentative movements I approached the gap, squeezing my head in to survey.
Next to Vikri sat a fearsome creature reaching up to his chest in height, covered in gray and white fur. Its maw hung open showing its moist pink tongue and many sharp teeth. The only thing restraining it was a thin strap held firmly in Vikri’s paws.
“Arf!” it barked.
I stumbled backwards, falling into the snow. The impact sent sharp pains through my injured shoulder, a seeping cold reaching my rear.
“You okay?” A concerned voice called out.
“Ah, yes, I’m fine. Ju-just stay in there okay,” I whimpered. Get a hold of yourself Slanek! You’ve faced down arxur for stars sake.
Gingerly righting myself, I approached again. With a few deep breaths, I shut my eyes and hastily stepped into the barn, closing the door behind me. No retreat!
Upon opening my eyes, I was greeted by the sight of the pair in the same position I left them.
“Just walk up to me Slanek. You’re completely safe,” Vikri encouraged, gently stroking the dogs head. The dog’s eyes remained locked on me.
Alright, confidence soldier. Forward march.
Keeping them both in focus I approached, the dog pivoting its head as it tracked me.
Reaching Vikri I froze. I could touch the dog if I wanted.
“Okay, reach out and place your paw on the back of her neck,” Vikri prompted.
I slowly complied, gently making contact with the dogs fur. It was coarser than I expected. As I dug in deeper I could feel the body heat. The dog craned its head back to look at me, making a quiet whine in their throat.
“Very good, she likes it. You can touch her head too.”
I moved my hand up, the softness of the scruff giving way to the more solid bone. Their ears depressed slightly as I pushed them down, but I was very gentle, ears could be sensitive. I was resting my hand on the top of a predator’s head, just above their golden binocular eyes that were staring into mine. I was ok.
“Good girl,” I said tentatively. I caught Vikri’s approving tail flick.
“Want to hold the leash?” he offered. “Take her for a walk.”
This was progressing fast. Could I control a predator?
“I’ll try.” Vikri pressed the strap in my hand and took half a step away.
Despite the slackness in the strap, the dog remained seated, her head snapping to follow her master.
“Up!” he said, and she rose to all fours. “Good girl,” he praised, pulling a small item from his pouch and offering it to her with open paw. The dog moved towards him, jolting my arm slightly as I moved to follow. Their pink tongue shot out and secured the morsel, their jaws closing and chewing with an audible crunch.
“Is that bone?” I asked, disgusted.
“Just a biscuit,” he replied, offering one to me. I grabbed it and on inspection, it was a small dry square that was a dark red colour. It appeared to have been baked hard, but not so much that it couldn’t be broken by teeth.
“It does contain meat though, so don’t eat it.” I felt my stomach shift, as I held it as far away from me as possible, barely resisting the urge to throw it away. The dog saw this as an opportunity and deftly snatched it from my paw before I could even register what was happening.
Crunch, crunch
All that remained was a slightly damp patch on my pad as a shiver went up my arm and resonated throughout my body.
“All right! Let’s go!” Vikri headed towards the door, his tail wagging in amusement. Lucky followed him, dragging me stumbling behind. The answer was no. I could not control a predator.
-----
Vikri walked with purpose, casually waving greetings to anyone we passed, be they in car or on foot. Lucky paced along beside him with me on her other flank, the leash slack between us. He was in a different league from me in embracing human customs, even after I had come so far with Marcel. A feeling of defeat crept in, but I kept it at bay. I was expecting this. It was why I had pursued this meeting.
The fallen snow thickened and the thinning signs of civilisation fell behind us, trees becoming more common. This was definitely straying out of town.
“Aren’t there wolves out here?” I asked nervously, ears high and alert.
“Not this close to town. To many humans,” he replied matter of fact. “Just wild enough to have fun.” He stopped, surveying the surroundings. “Want to set her loose?”
“Huh?” He gestured to lucky with his tail.
“Unclip her leash and let her frolic,” he clarified. What a terrifying notion, but if I didn’t trust him what was the point of me coming? My paws fumbled with the mechanism attaching the leash to her collar, eventually disconnecting it. For a few seconds she sat there, indifferent to the lack of restraint until Vikri gave her an energetic pat.
“Go!” he barked, and a grey-white blur shot off into the snow, remarkably quiet considering the speed. Suddenly she faltered, tumbling into a bank, sending white powder flying. Rolling around to right herself, she sped off again until she found another suitable snow bank to throw herself into. Vikri watched on with a relaxed expression.
“Care to join her?” He asked. I marked my incredulity to him, but he dismissed it. With a loud yelp he ran after her, throwing himself into a previously disturbed snow pile. Instantly the dog was upon him, digging and barking, Vikri’s limbs flailing as he contended with his attacker. My heart leapt into my throat as the nightmare unfolded. Reaching instinctively for my sidearm, my fear began to turn to panic on realisation it wasn’t there. What do I do? Run? No! I’ve got to help. But how? I was frozen.
After a short tussle, Vikri easily pushed her off, sending her running in another direction. The now patchy white venlil returned to my side, breathing heavily.
“She’s so full of energy,” he wheezed, ignoring my frozen expression of terror.
“You’re incredible,” I responded, trying to regain my composure. To shrug off an attack like that. Even if Marcel did something similar to me I fear how I’d react, and I knew him to be sapient and kind.
“Hardly,” he dismissed, “I’ve just had to learn.” He took a moment to catch his breath.
“Thank you for coming Slanek.” His sudden gratitude caught me off-guard. “It means a lot.”
“You’re the one helping me,” I reminded.
“Yes, but you reached out. To a broken venlil like me.” He looked at me and bared his teeth in an attempt at a human smile.
“You’re held in high regard, it’s how I heard about you.”
“By humans maybe,” he clarified. “Doubt most venlil will be understanding. Only the bravest.” He nudged me with his tail.
“Marcel seems to think I have predator disease, so I don’t think anything I do should give you much comfort,” I confessed.
“Do you think you have predator disease?” he asked, staring at me.
“No…I… uh…it’s complicated. I thought it. I was normal, I think.” He didn’t break his gaze. There was a pit in my stomach, Marcel’s recent criticisms stinging anew.
“I don’t know anymore. I want to believe I’m the same, normal venlil that left Venlil Prime, but I know that can’t be true. It hurts.”
Vikri stopped staring, focusing more on the dog as it played.
“I always thought it was something you were born with, a defect,” he paused. “Now I fear it’s more a contagion.”
“Exterminators were always concerned about predator corruption spreading,” I added, images from Tillfish flamethrowers worming their way into my head. “Hang with predators and you’re bound to catch something.”
“Do you think I have predator disease?” He asked. Despite the seriousness of tone, it almost made me smile. That was my diagnosis from the start. But maybe not the worst thing.
“It colours your fur. Too much human’s rubbed off on you.” This time I gave him a playful nudge. Despite my indication of joking, Vikri remained pensive, still just watching for the dog. Trying to catch his eye, I flicked an apology, “Sorry, I don’t think you’re sick…really.”
“No, no,” he responded, moving an eye back to me. “To be honest I want that. To acknowledge them changing me and all. Otherwise, what was the point?” His gaze drifted back to Lucky. “No, I am different now. He changed me and I can never go back. It’s all I have left of him now anyway.” The last part almost disappeared into a whisper. I sidled up to him in support, wrapping my tail around his. I felt sick at the sorrow he must be experiencing, for it was what I feared most.
“I’m sure he’s proud of what you’ve become.” I encouraged.
“Un” Vikri gave an affirmative flick.
“Raising a dog for star’s sake. He’d definitely think you are the best venlil.”
“Un”
“And for the little it’s worth, I do too.” He didn’t respond directly to that one, but he did press in closer.
“I do miss my old life though,” he continued after some time, his voice recovering. “Though I don’t think I’ll ever go back to Prime. Not with her.”
I shrugged. “There are currently thousands of humans on Prime. We can only pray to the stars that predator disease is as contagious as we’ve experienced,” I chuckled softly.
“Wouldn’t that be something,” he mused.
I was hopeful. Humans had lived up to our greatest fears. They were manipulative, changing whatever they touched to their own ideal. And stars if they weren’t persistent. Once you were their prey, they would not stop until they had you. The evidence was here. Two venlil, standing on an alien world, happily watching an apex predator play before us. Changed forever by the nature of predators.

Hello everyone I wrote this level some time ago and I was wondering whether to dedicate a video to it on youtube tell me if you think it is valid and deserves a video, thanks
LEVEL 44009 Survival level Class 2 DESCRIPTION: This level consists of an abandoned school with orange walls tending to pink, they are now ruined by time, they are indestructible by the tests reported by the M.E.G. agents. ditto for the stained glass windows; near the structure there are brightly colored toy houses for children but strangely they are not worn out, the structure and the houses are bordered by a green fence; all this is surrounded by a verdant countryside, you can find fields of which what is cultivated is unknown, the M.E.G. is investigating, the fields are delimited by ditches in which almond water flows there are also wild meadows with weeds similar to those of level 10, there are also dirt, cobbled and more rarely paved roads, however they will be very worn and the cloth will interrupt after a while, you can also find huts made of rusty metal sheets, with rudimentary wooden tables inside, more rarely there are tools (saws, hammers, axes); entering the main structure is relatively simple, given that a part of the fence has already been broken down, to enter the actual structure you can access from a window which with little chance will be semi-sperta, or otherwise by breaking in or forcing the main door once opened, if it is not locked it will close after a few seconds leaving you locked inside, the lighting in the structure is poor, any window seen from the outside (even the one from which you entered) will be replaced by a continuous wall, the only window that it is possible to find (in a random place in the building), inside the structure there will be various dirt, in the wet areas also weeds, on the walls there are graffiti some written by Timmy fanatics, there are rooms with broken desks and chairs and piled up; going down a dark staircase you enter an almost completely unlit cellar, however there are shelves with bottles of almond water or cashew water (it is advisable to be very careful as the bottles in which these liquids are contained are almost identical) , after the cellar there is an almost unexplored area where the rooms of the structure repeat themselves endlessly, in addition to the risk of getting lost in this area there are also many more entities; At this level it is constantly day without a single cloud just the same monotonous blue.
ENTITIES: outside the structure the count of entities is minimal there are mastiffs under the effect of level 11, RedHead a humanoid figure of blue cor with a helmet that covers their face this sort of helmet seems to be glued to the facial tissues they they roam around the outside of the structure, they are very fast but not very intelligent and almost blind, with a minimum of cunning it is easy to escape them, you can also hear the howls of howlers; inside the structure there are facelings for children who, however, will be kind and will behave like children of 6-7 years, if you play with them and tell them a story with a lot of possibility they will make you no-clip outside the structure if instead the they won't like the story they will start crying attracting all the entities towards you, in the wetter areas of the structure there are wormlings, while venturing into the area after the cellar you will find smilers and the other entities listed more frequently; Adult facelings can also occasionally be found at this facility which will protect the child facelings.
BASES & OUTPOSTS: - This first outpost is a squad of around 30 M.E.G agents. they have settled in the areas surrounding the cultivated fields to precisely investigate what is grown inside them, at the moment they have no other assignments, they live inside shelters built with pieces of sheet metal obtained from the huts scattered throughout the level; they are available to provide free almond water to the vagabonds, being that they have developed a method composed of complex networks of underground pipes that lead to a large cistern to extract it from the ditches and preserve it, the M.E.G. under request they can also provide maps with the coordinates of the main places written on them, the coordinates start from their outpost M.E.G. (such as the abandoned school and the M.E.G. outpost) - "The Farmers" are a group of about 8 people, their leader, called Tom, says that while exploring the level he found a tin container with beans inside a hut, this container according to what he has reportedly Tom was very similar to those sold in the frontrooms supermarkets, above it there was a large writing "BEANS" and behind the coordinates, he using the map provided by the M.E.G. he found a small garden of beans, so he expanded it with the help of pieces of sheet metal with which he created the tools and his 7 helpers created a real plantation; This community is in favor of bartering almond water, beans, and utensils. - this community has no real name, although they are often called "facelyngs educators" this is a group of 3 more developed adult facelyngs able to communicate with gestures, they are passive unless you attack the child facelyngs in the main facility they in fact they will protect them at any cost, but often for completely random time intervals they disappear, it is not known why or what they are going to do, naturally they are not open to exchanges. - "Timmy's sect" this group or rather sect is a set of people whose number of members is to be defined in fact they are very aggressive and shy, they are people with probable traumas created by levels in which they have wandered previously in fact these people venerate and hate a toy pickup truck which is thought to have been found near the main structure, this is a red plastic pickup truck about 10cm long, with "TIMMY" written on it, the substances or ink that was used is to be defined as people outside this sect are not even allowed to approach Timmy; it is not known if the pickup truck is an entity capable of manipulation or if in reality the members of this sect are completely out of their minds; graffiti has also been reported inside and outside the structure, it is presumed to be the work of these people.
ENTRANCE and EXIT ENTRANCE: - Noclip in a lawn of a park in level 11. - Open a bit of wood, quite ruined, in level 1207 this will noclip you inside the structure, however you will still have a few seconds before the door blocks you inside of. - Interact with a can of beans in level 6.1. - Detach or break a greengrocer's sign in level 33. EXITS: - Walk away across fields until the fog is so thick that you won't see your hand clippera there in level 10. - Walk away along a road it will cause you to spot some kind of city this will not clippera you in level 215, or less likely in level 9. - Entering a seemingly glitchy pink structure will take you to level 974. - Riding on an abandoned car will take you to level 1900. - No clipping inside the plastic houses for children will take you to level 283. - Exiting the previously mentioned white window will no-clip you to a random point in the level.

Ace was stunned. She almost felt disassociated from her own scaled hide; mentally she was still processing, even as, somehow, she found herself smoothly walking down the ramp to the navigation console, relieving the human who was at it.
She recovered quickly as she found herself reviewing the controls. They were all laid out, smooth and reasonably intuitively so. It wasn't even that she was entirely unfamiliar with taking command of a capital starship; she had, from time to time, taken the captain's post of the Arcadian Endeavour, to say nothing of the helm, but still, she was gobsmacked that Najia trusted her so readily as to just ask her to take the helm.
She looked the controls over again. The ship seemed ready to sail. "The helm is operative," she said. She was, however, unfamiliar with the ship class; fortunately, her station included a comprehensive overview. As Large vessels went, it was on the small size; the Arcadian Endeavour would handily outgun it; two Large Pulse Turrets, eight Medium Bolt turrets, and, on her stick, 2 'Medium Meson Streams'. She was vaguely familiar with Meson Streams as being the Protectorate's special signature weapon, but she thought that M weapons might be a bit lightweight to be the 'main armament' on an L vessel. "All systems seem to be reporting operational."
Ace looked uncertainly at the human woman standing the gunnery console next to her. She, too, had a slightly uncertain look, but, after a moment's double-checking, nodded firmly. "Gunnery confirms, all stations reporting green, C-Captain," she said, looking back up at Najia, who nodded firmly. "Ace, take us out. Let's track down Boso Ta's mysterious interloper."
Ace nodded firmly, and throttled the Destroyer-class vessel in reverse. The ship accelerated with surprising speed; nothing at all like the ponderous heft of the Empyrean Curs' home. The mammoth headquarters station receded into the distance, and she made a slight hiss to clear her throat. "We are away, Najia. We should begin scanning for this interloper if you wish to locate them." "Right. That's... Actually on this console," Najia recalled after a moment, her hands flying over the console. She'd done this before, a few times, but she still felt like such an imposter standing on the bridge of a ship this large and giving orders, even though she could - and did - order fleets of such ships around. Still, the long-range sensors came up, and in moments a ping found itself. She pushed it to Ace's station. "Let's go see who, or what, is creating such a fuss around here," she said. She felt vaguely self-conscious, running down what was probably some Teladi smugglers with a high-powered transmitter rig in some M freighter with a fast escort frigate.
Ace, meanwhile, was quite enjoying herself. The ship she was testing was spritely, responsive, without having the ponderous over-steer problem the Baku-class M Freighters had. Even the mighty Terran engines couldn't push a ship this large into T-drive immediately, but in regular drive it accelerated and decelrated rapidly. She quickly brought the ship to the appropriate course to intercept the sensor return, and, swooping past the headquarters station on course, activated her Travel drive. As with any large vessel, there was a considerable charge-up period while the ship's engines built power. However, it was rather less considerable than that of most ships in its class. She had time for a glance at the shipyard slips, and noted that a very large ship was under construction, and quite rapidly too - from its lines, it could only be one of old Professor Nakagawa's Nagoya-class Battleships. Ace found that amusing; Najia's people certainly worked fast.
The ship took off with suddenness that surprised her, the pitch of the T-Drive warmup reaching its crescendo. All attention back to the fore, Ace sucked in a sharp breath as they accelerated, rapidly intercepting the interloping signal. It wasn't hiding very well, Ace thought; if indeed it intended to hide at all. She targeted it as soon as it was within range; to the bridge the computer announced "Okinawa: Research Vessel."
Najia groaned audibly, glancing down; there was a transponder with a name. Oberth. "Dick Feynman," she muttered to herself, suddenly feeling a welling-up of outrage. What, she wanted to know, was Dr. Feynman doing in her system, lurking around her anomalies, without so much as dropping by to say hello? Woah girl, Najia thought to herself, taking a half-step back and a deep breath, wondering where that outburst had come from. Then she thought back to all the tiny little microaggressions Professor Feynman had bestowed upon all of his students; to say nothing of his research assistants. She snorted, loudly, as Ace pulled the Koshirae up alongside the Oberth, and she commed it. The skipper's face appeared on-screen.
"Yes; this is the research vessel Oberth. Can we help you?" Najia nodded to him. "Please put me in contact with the commander of your expedition," she said, firmly but politely. "Very well, one moment." The captain passed her through without further comment; he was clearly annoyed with the professor, since he didn't seem to recognize her, but he was still passing a random passer-by - in a destroyer admittedly - straight to the Professor.
Moments later, the professor himself appeared in the comms window, also on the bridge; just as she recalled him from before. "I am Dr. Rick Feynman, Chief Scientist of the Oberth and in charge of Project Genesis," he said, annoyedly and hurriedly. Najia waited for the other shoe to drop. It did so in a few moments, and he gawped openly at her. "Wait, Najia Takio?! Is it really you?" Najia smirked. "In the flesh, Professor." Unsaid, was that he hadn't even tried to contact her. He was either as oblivious as the Maestro of the Empyrean Curs, or he hadn't wanted to contact her. She was actually betting on the former. "Well, I'm glad you made it," he said. "We didn't expect biological matter to have survived this transition."
Najia blinked, and felt disassociated for a moment; she could just about feel the weightlessness of being cast adrift in her suit again. He had expected the transition, and hadn't warned her, or any of the others he had sent out in suits - whose fates she still didn't know? She was on the verge of exploding at him, quite possibly more literally than figuratively, but he continued on speaking blithely. "As I was saying, we are looking into how this station got here. Our research vessel is currently observing anomalies and gravimetric shears in this region."
That's it? That's... It? Najia felt stunned, and she shook her head. She felt on the verge of a schoolgirl explosion of anger, but looked to her side. Marta looked just as furious as she did, but she was maintaining. Selaia, the shipyard temporary master, was standing ramrod-straight, disciplined. Composed, with military bearing. Najia filed that away to ask her about later, but she looked back to the comms panel, and willed herself to the composture that Captain Kevlin had adopted. Be like her, she told herself. The Commander.
"Professor Feynman, I think it's time you told me exactly what Project Genesis is; after all, I almost died for it." There was a blink. He had, at least, the good graces to look somewhat embarrassed. "I'm sorry to inform you that you currently lack the required clearance to access that information, Najia."
Najia had very minimal military training; just the three-week Segaris reserve militia training course that every Pioneer university student got. Between that and the example of Captain Kevlin standing to her side with her feet braced proudly, her face schooled and her arms crossed behind her back as an example, however, Najia managed not to erupt in fury. Below, she saw Ace's tail lash in agitation, but Ace, too, was remaining face-forward, eyes on her controls.
"Is there anything else, Ms. Takio?" Najia considered laying down all the reasons she felt she should be granted clearance to access that information, ranging from the fact that her ships and her production facillities were providing the majority of the Pioneers' construction supplies and she had fantastic trading relations with them, to - again - the fact that she'd almost died for the project - to the fact that, within five minutes, she could have a fleet - a literal fleet of warships training their guns on Oberth.
That last one was, she thought, an argument most compelling. Part of her - a part of her she quickly pushed down - was inclined to simply order the boarding ships in-system to seize the research vessel Oberth by force and have Dr. Feynman dragged before her in irons. That was a sentiment every university student who'd ever had to deal with an insufferable professor would certainly sympathize with. She very much doubted that anyone she knew would even object, but she simply took a deep breath, letting it out slowly.
"In that case, Professor, what are you doing here; what do you need?" She somehow managed to maintain the composure she was projecting, she thought; though if she could involuntarily kill with her eyes over a comm screen, she was sure he'd fall dead with his head vaporized to a stump. Obliviously, or else with such a remarkable degree of awareness that he pretended to be oblivious, Dr. Feynman brightened and said, "we are currently lacking antimatter cells we need to complete our observations. If you can organize a delivery to this vessel, we'll be able to greatly advance our timetable."
Najia nodded, curtly, and cut the comm channel. She let out the seething huff she wasn't aware she had been holding in, and took a step back. "Captain, you have the Conn," she said, quietly. "I have the Conn," Captain Kevlin said, taking the center console as Najia walked to the aft railing of the 'smoke pit,' taking it in her hands and squeezing for a long few moments. "There's a conference room aboard, ma'am, if you need long-range communications capability," the captain said to her, with a glance over her shoulder. "Also, your two personal S-class craft were loaded onto our pads before you arrived. Should you require them." Najia recognized what the Captain was saying to her; she was semi-subtly suggeting that Najia take her anger somewhere the crew couldn't see it. Najia half-seethed at that, but she recognized the wisdom - and nodded. "Thank you, Captain. I do need the comms, in fact. Ace, Marta, with me please."
"I could kill him," Najia said, the moment the door closed behind her. Marta, ahead of her, sat on the edge of the conference table and snorted. The room was essentially a copy of their ships' standardized mess halls, but without the kitchen. "You and me both. Sanctimonious little..." "Why do you not, then," Ace asked, turning a chair around and sitting in it, drawing her feet up to the edge of it, curling her tail around her legs. "He has clearly given you cause for outrage; not mere ire or annoyance, but clear outrage. He is also utterly oblivious to the fact that, whatever you were relative to him when last you met, you are, now, the master of a vast organization and due far more respect - and information - than he provided. The Maestro would likely order his ship siezed, that he himself be seized, respect beaten into him, and then have brought before him in chains to answer the questions he refused to answer before."
Najia paused for a moment, and leaned back on the wall of the conference room, taking a deep breath, huffing and letting it out slowly, hugging herself self-consciously. Less the 'ordering a beating to a prisoner' part, she had considered that very course of action. "Is that what you want me to do, Ace?" Ace let out a soft, hissing trill, and shook her head. "No. That would be... Very out-of-character for you, I think." She blinked at that, unsure why she didn't want to see Najia order that course of action, when it was what her piratical upbringing was telling her that Najia should do - would be within every right to do.
"Yeah, well... I considered it," Najia said, "less the beating part, anyway." "He's keepin' secrets from you. Spook stuff," Marta pointed out. "Considering how you almost died in the name of this Project Genesis, you damn well deserve some answers. Frankly, I wouldn't blame you in the slightest if you did order the ship seized and searched for those answers. And if we took Doc Dick prisoner in the process, well... I mean, I wouldn't, you know, condone it if you happened to say that they shouldn't be too concerned with being gentle when they grabbed him, I don't think I'd raise a fuss about it, either."
Najia broke into a laugh, and then face-palmed, sighing heavily, and grinning. "No. As cathartic as it might be..." She sighed, heavily. "As deeply, deeply cathartic as it might be..." She trailed off, then shook her head vehemently. "No. He is a prick, though." Marta snorted. "No arguments from me there. I can't tell you how many times I daydreamed about force-feeding him his own lectern in class." She smirked at Najia. "And I know you felt the same way."
"Mmmhmm. So, fie." She pushed off from the wall, sat in the chair next to Ace, and pulled up the comms, back to the station, intending to explain the matter to Boso Ta. The Boron's head appeared in hologram above the table. "Ah, Assistant! It appears that they are researching the same anomaly which brought the station over here," Boso Ta said, preempting her. He continued on, quickly, "Most of the gravimetric charge dispersed during that event, but they brought quite an array of equipment to examine the traces. Let us hope that this satisfies their curiosity and leads to their departure." Najia snorted at that. "Don't bet on it. I know this asshole, he's... Well, he's up to something. I'll arrange to deliver him the stuff he wants and get this moving, but, don't get your hopes up." She sighed, and decided to be nicer to Boso Ta, if only because she had been reminded of just how not-nice Dr. Feynman had been to her. "Is there anything else you need, Boso Ta, that we can act on at present?"
"Ah, yes," Boso Ta said, brightly. "We are prepared for teleportation trials to begin. Well, we have already tested them," he admitted, "with nonsapient life forms; your Professor Nakagawa is quite the researcher. He and Station Manager Peterson have quite ably assisted my research here whilst you were off endeavoring in Avarice. We've been waiting to offer you the opportunity to be the first sapient teleportation subject of our revived teleport project."
Najia blinked. "Well..." She paused, and huffed, and the table's comm system chirr-upped. It was Peterson, and Najia added her to the conference call. "Tsukiko, what's this about me being a guinea pig?" Tsukiko let out a huff, interrupted in the middle of something she was about to say; her shoulders slumped, and she grinned, wryly. "Okay, not really a guinea pig," she said. "We've tested it in-system with mice, and dogs. We sedated them first," she said, "and then sent them through un-sedated, too. No ill effects we could find. I hate to say it, but Boso Ta is... Kind of a genius."
Najia held back a snort at that, and Tsukiko smirked at her. "So, it's safe, as near as anyone can tell?" "Oh yes. There's no evidence of any sort of atomic or molecular irregularities in scans of the animals taken on either side of the teleport, and a veterinary specialist who examined the animals before and afterwards indicated there was no sign of any lasting trauma from the experience," Boso Ta interrupted. "I felt that being the first sapient to go through the system would be your due, for the work you've put in to bringing us to the point where it is possible. Najia Takio; first human to use a teleport intentionally... Developed by us, anyway."
Najia snorted at that, and smirked. "I'll think about it. Do we need to retrofit anything?" "Oh, no," Tsukiko said. "Or, rather - and this is actually kind of mind-blowing - the actual teleport hardware itself is... Frankly miniscule. There is a refit needed, but it's already been done; we just started fitting them into the lifts of larger ships and the airlocks of Small-classes."
Najia blinked at that. She hadn't even known about it? "As a standard...?" "Indeed, as a standard option! This would, needless to say, greatly simplify personnel transfer logistics."
Najia laughed at that, and looked at Ace. Ace was stroking her crest, and looked... Thoughtful. Marta looked fascinated. "Shit, Ninja Taco, if you ain't gonna go for it, I will. But what'd you want, Professor Peterson?" Tsukiko laughed, blushing slightly. "Please, Marta, how many times do I have to tell you to just call me Tsukiko? You're harder to break of that habit than Najia was. Anyway, I called because the Golden Flea and the ship Ninja Taco are getting coded comms signals from the Empyrean Curs."
Ace let out a high-pitched trill at that. "Please, you must tunnel the comm from the Flea here with all haste." Tsukiko punched a button on her desk, out of view, and a holographic comms-panel came up in front of Ace. Ace studied it - it looked to Najia like gibberish - for a moment. "This is the recall signal. Maestro wants us back on the Arcadian Endeavour immediately, unless we are presently under surveillance by the authorities." Ace looked back to her. "It looks like the Maestro has his plans aligned and is ready to do something adventuresome."
Najia took in a deep breath, and nodded. "Alright." She squeezed her hand in a fist, and stood up. "We - or, I at least - are going to teleport back to the station. Boso Ta will get his test - and Boso Ta... Good work. Please proceed with teleportation research as far as you can take it." Boso Ta did a somersault in his tank, gleefully, at that request. "Oh, with pleasure, Assistant!" Najia looked at Ace. "Shall we try this teleport thing?" "Yes, let's!" Ace stood, and had a positively gleeful look. "This sounds... Fun."
Najia could only smile at that, and nod. "Right. Have the Flea and 'Chipmunk's' ships brought to the pads," she directed. "Actually, no; send all of my Chipmunk ships ahead; have them dock on the defense platform at the 18B gate, the Endeavor tends to hang out there anyway." She stood. "So... Just... The lift?" "Just the lift," Boso Ta confirmed. "Though, in the very near future, we suspect we'll be able to initiate the teleport from arbitrary locations."
Najia nodded. "Alright. A quick stop before we go." She smiled, heading for the lift.
A scant few minutes later, Najia was in the as-yet-impersonal-and-unfinished ready room, with Captain Kevlin. The two of them eyed one another warily, for a long few moments, and Najia pointed two fingers at her, starting the conversation. "You're not just some shipyard-working spacer," she said. "You stand like you're professional military." "And you stand like you're a free-wheeling, over-inflated sorority sister who lucked out and won the lottery," Kevlin shot back at her, smirking.
Najia blinked. She blinked again. Then she laughed, hard, curling her arm around her belly, the other hand reaching out to rest on the hull next to the window. When she looked up, she grinned. "Okay, now I know you're not a spy. No spy with a brain in their head would say something that's as likely to get them fired as anything else." Selaia smirked at her. "Unless I'm a very good spy who's compiled a massive psych profile on you."
"Which I strongly doubt," Najia shot back. "But you're also not afraid of being fired." Selaia shrugged. "No, I'm not. Working in your shipyard is nice, yes; probably the second-best job I've ever had, but I'm not going to kiss your ass and be a yes-woman. I won't do that for anyone."
Najia straightened up, and peered into Selaia's eyes. They were, not hostile, but hard with resolve. She smirked slightly, and nodded. "Good. I don't like yes-women, they fuck things up. So, you think I'm, what -" "An irresponsible, idealistic child who managed to, through luck and probably some skill, wind up controlling a growing paramilitary business empire," Selaia shot back, walking around her, eyeing her up. Najia snorted at that. "Child? Seriously?"
"You're not a veteran. You're not a politician. You're not a businesswoman. You might be doing a credible job pretending to be those latter two, but you're a university student who got lucky, and is good at putting on faces." Najia bristled, but shoved it down; the Argon-born starship operator was abrasively blunt... But she was airing doubts Najia herself had. "Harsh," Najia said. "But... Not entirely untrue. So, why are you still here, if you don't like me?" There was a long, quiet moment. "I didn't say I didn't like you," Selaia said, softly. "But you are all of those things." She smirked.
"And you like that, then?" Najia smirked back. "What got you discharged, presumably dishonorably, from the Argon navy? Your big mouth that can't seem to shut up? Called a superior out on some bullshit that you couldn't stand to let stand?" "You'd think that, but no; fraternization." Selaia met her gaze, levelly. "Though I was on the thinnest of ice before that for, as you say, speaking my mind." She walked around Najia, appraising her. "Are you planning to sack me? Should I grab my go bag and begone?" Laughing, Najia shook her head. "No! I was actually going to ask if you wanted the ship for real, not just for the trials."
That, at least, took Kevlin aback for a moment. She walked away, paused, turned. Looked Najia up and down again, slowly. Najia felt self-conscious about it, raising her eyebrow, as the other woman crossed her arms over her chest. "Do I have to get on my knees for the job?" Najia blinked at that. It struck her out of left field, and she rocked back on her heels. "I - I'm sorry... What?" "Do you expect me to put out - sexually - for the position," Selaia repeated, slowly, her voice... Almost unnervingly neutral; uncannily, composedly so. Najia gawped at her for a long few moments, her mouth hanging open. Closed. Open. Closed. She reached up and rubbed her face with her hands for a few moments. "I... I'm sorry, I - what kind of - where did you - what gave you..." She took a deep breath. "No. Emphatically no. What on or off Earth gave you that idea?"
A few moments that seemed like almost an eternity passed, then Selaia shrugged, and seemed to shrink in a bit, relaxing. "Frankly? You have a reputation as a party girl that goes back to Segaris and has followed you here what with all the Segaris Pioneers you're hiring away, preferentially beginning with your old circle of school pals - with whom you're pretty obviously in a, what did the Segaris call it, 'polycule' with. Your politics can only be described as 'liberal to an extreme,' given the way you run your stations domestically, and I overheard a snippet of one of your small craft pilots describing, very bluntly, you going down on her in the cockpit, after offering her the job. She was discussing this with the captain of Fenrir, who compared notes with her. I took that to infer that you liked to be sexual with those captains you personally offered a job to."
Najia flushed red, her jaw dropping, and looked out the window again, at the gas giant hanging in the distance. She groaned-and-laughed at the same time. "Fatimah and Xiaowen... I am going to scold them for gossiping somewhere public," she said, laughing so hard it brought tears to her eyes, and rubbed them out of her eyes. Then she heaved a heavy sigh. "And that didn't chase you away?" "I didn't expect I'd ever run into you personally," the shipyard expert said, "and frankly, given the dizzying breadth of corruption a kid with suddenly-unlimited power could get up to, being a little skeevy with grown adults is on the low end." Najia face-palmed again, harder. "Alright, look," she said, turning around. "Fatimah, Xiaowen and I are old friends from Segaris University. Yes, we're a thing, a big, messy, multi-tentacular thing that we're not ashamed of, but you've rather taken the wrong end of the stick there. It was roleplay, what they were discussing, pure and simple. A few moments of kink snatched from the jaws of some really messy, pressy schedules, between attempts to make the galaxy an overall better place and setbacks. Yes, I pretended to abuse my position and money to make them, for want of another word, perform to keep their jobs. And later, Fatimah turned that exact position around on me, while Xiaowen tied me up and -"
"Enough," Selaia said, laughing; finally her composure had broken, and she'd flushed, chuckling and holding her hand up. "Okay, I get it... I apologize, miss Takio. Clearly, I was badly mistaken." "... Najia, please," Najia said, blushing and grinning. "Since you already know me so well anyway."
Selaia snorted at her, and smiled, wryly, nodding. Najia met her eyes, for a long few moments. "So, that fraternization that got you kicked out of the Argon military..." "When you're a military intelligence lieutenant and a famous, well-liked starship captain insinuates that your career might stall out by standing on your feet but might go places on your knees, you weigh your options," Selaia said, bluntly. She pushed off the desk, and pushed past Najia, staring out the window herself. "So I started delivering reports from under his desk instead of in front of it. I hated myself a little, at first... Then he started telling me to sit up on his desk after. That was a little..." She huffed. "I dunno. Then his wife found out."
Najia winced. "Oh, damn. And monogamy is a big thing in Argon space, I take it?" "Well, yes, but she didn't blow up quite like you're expecting. She blew up at him all right - for not telling her and sharing me with her immediately. I got caught by my immediate superior - the one who didn't like my mouth - going to her home, who tried to use the thing to bring me, the captain and his wife - a defense industrial contractor - down. They had political connections, and when all was said and done, I basically took the fall for everything. The Lt.C who found out I was basically being half-bribed, half-blackmailed into being a kinky, connected couple's toy got to quietly resign, the captain got promoted to commodore, and I got the option to take an administrative discharge with my commission revoked for conduct unbecoming, or get totally shafted at a court martial and take the fall for everything, doing prison time."
Najia blinked at that, and winced. "That's... That's..." "If you give me a pity look, I swear I will punch you in the loins and tell you to take your offer and shove it." Proper fire glared in the skipper's eyes as she turned to look at Najia. Najia stepped back, her jaw half-dropping, and then she shook her head, laughing. "No - no! I was saying, 'that's a shit sandwich.'"
Selaia snorted roughly at her, and turned back to look out the window. "Yeah... Yeah, it was. Anyway, that was then, then I wound up here. I signed on a freighter to forget my past, made port here, decided to take a job in the shipyard because it paid better than the freighter, was work I could do, and the habs here are wonderful. Then I found myself in front of you, and, well... Sorry, for thinking you might be kind of a hump."
Najia snorted. "But not so much of a hump that it was an automatic deal-breaker, huh?" She scratched her head, craning to look up at the Oberth hanging 'above' them. "Yes... No... Maybe? I don't honestly know what I was going to say if you said yes," the Argon woman admitted. "At first, when I first... When I found the whole 'prostitution is legal and regulated' here thing, I was skeeved out. I tried to leave, but, there weren't actually any ships that would take me that day. Then I wound up actually finding out that one of my coworkers - someone I was kind of chummy with - was turning tricks on the side, and... Well, we had a chat about it. He was from Segaris, and thought it was no big deal. And, well... I... Kind of... Had whored myself. I didn't feel good about it then. I still don't, but... I was... Well, willing, I suppose, to at least see if the offer you made, the way you made it, made me feel greasy about it like it did back then, or if it was... I don't know; open? Honest?"
"Well, I'm glad to have pleasantly surprised you - though I am totally going to kill Fatimah and Xiaowen for gossiping in public," Najia muttered without sincere heat, continuing "and no... I'm really not going to demand that someone put out for a job. You just... Impressed me with what I saw, in the admittedly very brief time that I've known you, but hey, I'm the kind of impulsive idiot who takes a leap of faith based on her gut instinct."
"Then, in that case..." Selaia turned to her, and smirked. "I'll skipper this ship for you for now, but I want something bigger when it's available. And not assigned to a reaction force or routine escort or defense duty or something." Najia snorted again, and laughed. She took a step back, and looked Selaia up and down again, smirking and grinning. The formerly-Argon military intelligence woman didn't look particularly extraordinary, but she shifted to stand at 'parade rest,' arms folding behind her back, eyes piercing and patient. "Setting terms, huh?" Najia smirked. She looked like she was considering it, but Selaia had impressed her - and she was also the first hire she'd had who had a formal military background outside the Segaris Pioneers. That perspective could be useful. She crossed her arms. "It just so happens I'm planning to build more ships," she said. "Some of them will be quite large." She extended her hand to Selaia, who took and shook it, firmly. "You wouldn't happen to be planning to construct a Centaur II Battleship, would you?" Selaia asked, grinning at her. Najia laughed. "That depends; if you have the full plans for a Centaur II* in your back pocket, I'll make sure you get the first one out of the yard."
Laughing now, the other woman reached back with her free hand, and dramatically patted one of her rear pockets. "Damn, I appear to have left those plans in my other trousers." She let go, grinning and shaking her head, sighing. "Sorry, again, for... You know." Najia shook her head. "Jeeze, are you ever gonna stop beating yourself up for it?" She shook her head, laughing exasperatedly. "I don't know," the Captain answered bluntly, laughing and wryly face-palming. "I thought for sure that you were either going to say yes, or you'd fire me on the spot for even asking. And now I'm asking myself, do I even deserve the post?"
"For, what? Being willing to entertain the idea?" Najia shook her head, and, taking a bit of a risk, reached out and laid her hand heavily on Captain Kevlin's shoulder, squeezing it. "It's not like I'm running a state military with rules against fraternization or anything. What I care about is; can you do it, and are you someone whose general... Mmmmmh... It's not exactly right to say 'someone whose morals I like,' so much as..." Najia trailed off for a moment; Ace's morals were certainly questionable, even by her standards - in some cases especially by her standards - but she had bonded with her, trusted her. "Someone I feel I can trust to continue to be someone whose actions I like. If you wanna be woo-woo about it, someone whose spirit I like. And you? I have a good feeling about you; I've been wrong before, but... Not often."
Selaia snorted at her, looking at her, then looking back to the window. "And you'd trust someone who was willing to go down on you to get the post?" "As its own qualification, no. But it doesn't make me distrust you," Najia said. "Especially with how you were prepared to evaluate how a 'yes' answer made you feel and then tell me to take that offer and shove it. So, we good? You want to skipper a ship for me?" "Just that simply? No... Strings attached?"
Najia laughed, and turned, leaning against the windowsill and looking at the other woman's head in profile, smirking. "Do you want strings attached?" Selaia started at the question, turning to look at her. She worked her mouth a few times, but couldn't seem to find words; she did, however, flush warmly, looking somewhat guilty, and swallowed. "Okay, look; you're conflicted, obviously." Najia took the professional spacer's hand, squeezing it carefully. "Like I said, the job is yours if you say yes, no strings attached. Completely separately from that, if you are interested in, you know, the idea of getting to know me more thoroughly, that's, you know, a matter we can bring up later. And if you're not, then I'm not going to mention it again."
Flushing, Selaia turned away from her, but kept her hands in hers; squeezing Najia's hand, tightly. "This is so fucking unprofessional of me to even be considering," she huffed. "Sure it is. And you impressed me by being able to put on and take off the 'Professional Selaia' almost instantly. I bet you could summon 'Captain Kevlin' back in a moment."
Selaia blinked at her, turning her head to look at her. She drew her hand back, took a deep breath, and faced the window again. Folded her arms behind her back, and executed a crisp right-face, her face schooled into stern impassivity. Her eyes were mirthful, but the rest was the very picture of the woman Najia had seen standing by at attention while she indulged herself in helming the ship personally. "Just like that," Najia said, grinning brightly. Her grin softened Selaia's demeanor, and she smiled in turn. "You're a deep well of passion who can put on 'military bearing' in a moment. And you're not a yes-woman. That's what I need."
Working her jaw slightly, Selaia relaxed, chuckling and sighing; she flushed again, and sighed. "Thank you," she said. "For the opportunity; for not getting pissed at me, for... Well, for being understanding, and tolerating me being an aggro neurotic about it when things didn't go the ways I'd seen them going." "It's fine," Najia assured her, holding her hands up, placatingly, and to her surprise, Selaia took them, squeezing. "I, um... I..." Flushing and looking away, Selaia swallowed. "Is that offer going to be on the table if I need to sleep on it?"
Najia laughed, grinning and shaking her head. "Oh, you're amazing. Yes, absolutely; sleep on it. Hell, I have to get going; places to go, pirate clans to infiltrate. Fun stuff! Speaking of which, please make the ship combat-ready and take it to the Windfall/Eighteen B hardpoint to dock. I'm not saying I expect anything to go down, but..."
"Understood." Selaia looked back up; she remained flushed, but smiled. "That, I can do." She squeezed Najia's hands, and Najia squeezed back, then let go. She pivoted on her heel, slipping out of the Ready Room and headed for the lift; Ace and Marta had disembarked said left and were standing to the side of the corridor, with Marta telling Ace an anecdote from when they were still young class-taking students at Segaris U. "Well that took longer than expected," Marta said. "Everything good?" "Everything's good," Najia said. "And we have a new captain. I figured she should keep Koshirae for now. So, how does this lift-teleporter work?"
"Like this," Ace said, stepping into the lift. She pressed a button, and Najia felt a strange, yet familiar sensation start to take hold; like the feeling she got just before the headquarters had transported itself. Like falling in all directions at once; then, with a bright flash, she found herself in another lift. Blinking, Najia felt herself up for a few moments, then strode out; they were on one of the landing pads at the headquarters, and standing above them was the Golden Flea. Her jaw dropped. "That... That... Was both incredible, and..." "Somehow underwhelming," Ace concluded with her. "It was not wholly without fanfare, yet somehow, I anticipated... More."
Najia nodded. "Right. So, how should we do this?" She looked to Ace, who smiled at her. "We stagger the arrival of Chipmunk's ships and mine in the vicinity of the Arcadian Endeavour, as though we had scattered, lain low, and were returning from somewhat different places." Najia nodded. "Right. And, I wonder... Would it be possible to fit the Flea with a teleporter?"
"Indeed it would," Ace agreed. "I asked Boso Ta if this was possible and he said it was very simple. He delivered the equipment to the Flea before I had finished asking, in fact, though I do not think I will be able to install it and fly home simultaneously." Najia grinned at Ace, and Ace grinned back at her, adding, "but, if you wished to fly back with me, one of us could tinker, while the other flies."
Najia grinned at Ace, and looked back to Marta. "That sounds good to me. Would you please take the Jackdaw and -" "Head on ahead while the two of you fiddle with Ace's ship and snuggle up naked while the ship is on autopilot?" Marta asked back, smirking. Najia flushed, glancing around; there was nobody within earshot. "Mmmm-hmmmm. You ain't foolin' noone, sister." Marta grasped Najia, pulled her close, and kissed her. Najia felt herself melt into the grasp, kissing back instinctually, embracing her oldest friend and turning her head to meet the kiss. Then it ended, Marta pulled back, and stepped back, looking down at Ace with her hands on her hips.
Ace blinked, peering up at the far-taller, stronger human. For a moment, she was concerned she would be threatened again, then she sucked in a sharp breath as Marta reached under her arms, grasped her chest, and simply lifted her to eye-level, then hugged her tightly. Ace let the breath out slowly, tentatively returning the embrace, and asked, "I... thought you distrusted me," she commented. "I did," Marta said, bluntly. "But Najia, apparently, took a chance on you, and figures you're alright. She's been right about that kind of thing a lot more often than I have." Marta squeezed her, and Ace sucked in a breath in alarm; the human could probably squeeze her so strongly that she passed out, yet she didn't squeeze so hard she hurt. It rather felt like being in Najia's arms, in fact. "So, I'm guessing you're one of us now. That ain't gonna be a problem with, you know, the whole pirate clan, is it?"
There it was; the proverbial shoe. Najia swallowed, glad that Ace couldn't see. She had been studiously not raising that point. "It will not be, provided... Provided I am not asked to betray the Curs. Membership in a pirate clan is... Voluntary, for the most part," Ace said. "I will not betray them." She looked back at Najia. "And, I think, neither will you." "But you are willing to leave them... For us?"
"For you," Ace said, reaching out with her tail, wrapping it around Najia's arm. "And, perhaps, the rest of you, in time," she added, looking at Marta, trilling softly. "But I will have to see the Maestro's big scheme through." "Family. I get that," Marta opined, setting Ace down. "Y'all fly safe. We'll filter in like a disorganized rabble."
Ace nodded, and turned to board the Flea. "What took you so long, anyway?" "Oh geeze." Najia followed the Teladi pilot. "It's a long story."

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I had surgery a few years ago where I was diagnosed with endo and had an endometrioma removed. However some was left behind including a nodule.
The residual endo didn’t show up on mri so for the last few years, I’ve been told “no active endometriosis” or “what nodule” I pushed for further surgery and finally they agreed. Before surgery, they refused to do a scan because apparently I already had one (which was over a year ago so not recent).
Anyway I decided to go ahead with the surgery this week despite them not doing a scan. Although they removed more endo, they confirmed that I did have a nodule and now it’s stuck to my bowel and pulling it. And I also have some abnormal tissue-a plaque/fibrosis which they didn’t know what it was so they’ve also biopsied it.
When I woke up they explained I need a third surgery to remove the endo from my bowel and the plaque. They also wanted to inject me with lupron as soon as I woke up. I decided not to agree as I needed time to think about it.
So now I’m thinking where do I go from here? I don’t want so many surgeries for them just to say they couldn’t remove everything. I have the mirena and take the mini pill and it’s still progressing. I honestly don’t know where to go from here. At what point do I draw a line and say no more surgery.
Would be nice to hear some of your experiences and advice. Thanks in advance :).

I know this post might be a bit contradictory. If you've stopped watching the show, why would you be on a HK subreddit?
But as someone who has just stopped, I wanna ask to fellow people who have done the same - where and why did you stop watching?
For me, I stopped after S18. S16 was a close call because it was like pulling teeth to watch, and S17 didn't even come close to masking any behind the scenes BS. By which I mean, they really didn't bother hiding the fact that drama comes before any cooking talent. Still salty over Gio's elimination.
I did give up at S17 but still tried to stomach S18. Oh boy, that one felt soulless. Tbh I stuck around and skipped a few for Brett and Motto. But overall? No point in calling it Rookies vs. Veterans because Ramsay just switched back to normal by the second episode, back at it with the drama-over-cooking eliminations... what a mess.
Curious to see if fellow people who gave up stopped watching after S18 or way before.

Pulled into a driveway and parked behind another car that was already there, in front of the garage. Walked up to the door and took the photo of the drop off. Walking back I had my eyes down as we've been getting a lot of melting and refreezing of ice on driveways and sidewalks. My dad calls so I quickly answer it (I didn't want to, idk, irritate the customer by them hearing my ringtone?) and tell him to hang on a moment as I was just getting back to my car and wanted to get in and get my phone mounted and heading out before getting into a conversation.
As soon as I sat down I had a weird, almost out of body, type of experience as the sight and smell around me was "wrong". I very quickly realized that in that moment of getting a call and still mainly watching for ice I had gotten into the car I had parked behind. Same make and color as my car. Quickly got out and got into my own vehicle. But I couldn't help but have two thoughts. First, that I was glad that the layout of the house put their car out of sight of any windows and the front door so they wouldn't have seen. And second, wondering who the heck just leaves their car unlocked? Especially when you can't see it from the house lol.

DISCLAIMER:
Some people seem to conflate an interest in CnC and the power dynamics that come with it with an actual desire to cause harm to a non-consenting person.
I do not, and have no desire for any non-consensual happenings.
There are also a lot of people who claim that they want CnC, but then don't do any of the necessary safety prep to ensure that everyone is safe and happy in the scenario.
If you are not willing to take your time with a kink as potentially harmful and extreme as roleplay rape and consensual nonconsent can be, then I am not the dom for you.
Here's a little about me:
I value informed and enthusiastic consent.
I value the person who is trusting me to do right by them when they are at their most vulnerable.
I may act maliciously, and speak as though I have no regard for you, or your limits. It's all just that: an act. It's a switch that I can flip at any given moment. I'm always in control of myself- even if the scenario seems like it's getting out of hand.
I've always been the kind of person who seeks out new experiences and sensations all the time.
New people to talk to, new places to see, new tastes, and sights, and smells.
When it comes to sex, however, I would say that I treat it as a way to deeper understand the people I know and interact with. To me, sex hinges on our abilities to let go. To stop thinking. To let the world melt away while myself and my partner experience one another in the most intimate way that I can think of.
I'm very "service-oriented" in my dominance. I like to fill the exact role that my submissive needs from me. If you need Daddy, then you get him. If you need cruelty, then you will receive it. If you want to be objectified and abused, then I will happily do so.
It all depends on our negotiations.
But enough of that! You're here for the sexy stuff, not my kinky philosophy.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
I will do all in my power to ensure that, when you're with me, you'll never know if the hand on the back of your head will stroke your hair, or force you onto your knees and fuck your throat until you gag and spit.
When I give hugs, I like to completely envelop you with my long arms and pull you tightly into me.
When I hold you tight, I want you to realize just how easily I could snap you into pieces if I ever felt like it.
When I hold your hand, I want you to know that you couldn't pull away from my grip, even if you wanted to.
Whenever I touch you, I want you to understand just how small and weak you are when compared to a predator like myself.
I want you to feel safe and secure, yet also trapped: like a canary in a golden cage.
I like to use my size and strength against my subs.
To initiate sex by grabbing people by their hair and dragging them to the bedroom. The more they pull away, the more they hurt themselves.
To make my partners taste how turned on they are. I like to shove my fingers deep into their pussies, and then force them down their throat
To make people assume positions, crawl, and beg for what I give them. Doesn't matter if it's pleasure or pain. If I'm giving it to you, then you will beg for it, accept it, and thank me for it.
I like to give firm and rough grips on the arm and wrist that cause bruises, hard slaps to remind brats of their place, and forced free use, no matter when and where.
You may not even be allowed to wear any kind of bottom except for a skirt around me, either. No panties. I want easy access to what's mine. That way, if I get sick of your attitude, and decide that you need correcting, I'll be able to do so with minimal obstruction.
If I cum in you, and you decide to waste that cum by letting it spill out, then I'll force you to lick it up
If I decide that I want to use you, then it will happen.
Nothing you say, other than your safe word, will stop me, and resistance will only make me hurt you.
How badly?
That depends on your tolerance for pain, and how hard I have to work to take what I want from you.
Good girls, who recognize their place and offer themselves to me when I (or they) desire, will be treated with all of the kindness and softness that I can muster. If you want an experience that is grounded in passive coercion, and the threat of violence, then the most resistance you will offer is making me force your legs apart.
Then, there are those of you who like to fight, and need to be reminded of where they stand. I treat fighters on a case-by-case basis, and escalate based on the severity of their behavior. The more fiercely you resist, the more violent I become.
Open hand strikes to the body will escalate to closed fists.
Light grips on the neck will escalate to me choking you out and breeding your unconscious body. If you come to, and start up again, then I will happily put you back down.
If you desire a truly cruel and violent experience, then you will fight me with every ounce of strength that you have. I want to see how fierce you think you are.
If I have my way, then you'll never feel truly at ease. Even the tightest and most genuine feeling hug could quickly become a violent assault.
You'll be just a warm fuckdoll who gets to play like she's human when around other people.
No matter what I do to you, who I give you to, or how much you hate what is happening in the moment, you will recognize that you are at your most beautiful when your makeup is ruined, your body aches, and your holes leak. And still, you will thank me for it.
I am excellent at maintaining a sweet tone and kind smile when I'm punishing someone, or treating them cruelly.
You may actually think that you deserve it, even when I'm just hurting you because I want to see you cry.
You'll start to overanalyze my body language, and attempt to figure our if there is any malice behind my warm smile and kind eyes. Every gesture I make towards you, large or small, will case your heart to jump.
Will I stroke your face, or will I slap it? Will I run my fingers through your hair, or will I grab a handful and drag you to the backyard so I can spray you with the garden hose?
Do I really want to snuggle, or am I waiting for you to relax, just so I can take advantage?
I want you to always be on the back foot, and in fear of what I may do to you. But I also want you to always know that I will never push you beyond the limits that we set beforehand.
Sometimes I'm a little scared of what I'm capable of, and who I become when I'm "in character," but I think it enhances the rush for me when all is said and done.
As long as the person I'm with consents 100%, and I don't have any worries about their communication abilities, then the only limits are the ones we agree upon before a session or scene begins.
I can say that my kinks stem from trauma. I've found that I get release, both mental and sexual, from being able to express that kind of malice, but on my own terms, in an environment that I know is safe and that I have control over.
Well, you have control over. As the sub, the real power rests with you. I can only do what you consent to. Anything else is just abuse masquerading as kink.
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I know that this was a lot to read, but I try to take a kink with so much potential for danger very seriously.
If you're curious:
My ever expanding list of kinks includes: CnC/Ravishment, throat fucking, forced bi, face slapping, spanking, forced orgasms, multiple orgasms, anal training, collars, mental conditioning, bruises, choking, takedown play, rope/ribbon bondage, free use, pet training, and (my personal favorite) breeding/creampies.
I'll leave you with a few questions:
What do you want the most in a potential relationship? (Play partners, short term, long term, etc)
What kind of dominance best fits your flavor of submission? (Domineering, doting, daddy, etc.)
What are your hard/soft limits?
What is it about your role that you enjoy the most, and how can I facilitate scenarios that satisfy both of our wants and needs?
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
If you're a visual person, then please don't hesitate to check out this little gallery It contains photos of myself, and how I've enjoyed spending my time. I hope that you like what you see!
I am enm/poly: you don't have to be friends, but you will at least know one another.
Thank you for taking the time to read this ad. I hope to hear from you soon!

• Leon

The desire to own land has been moving the prepping and off-grid communities for generations. Having a few acres that give you room to do almost anything you can think of is a dream for many of us. Even more, achieving self-sufficiency on such a lot, and having a large pond or a small woodlot, is the ultimate life goal for some.
Owning half an acre or more provides you with endless possibilities when it comes to farming and you must become as efficient as possible to avoid wasting time and resources. With a large lot, you just won’t have the time to do everything you want, and you will keep yourself busy all day trying to cover everything that needs to be done.
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Tools are needed

If you have a plot of land ranging from one to five acres, you will need certain tools to make your life easier. For example, a chainsaw can be used for both landscaping jobs and rough carpentry if needed.
If you plan to build a fence, you will need various tools to do the job right. A 13-pounds maul is an indispensable tool for wooden posts, and if you use fence wire, you’ll need wire stretchers.
The more fencing you have; the more work will be needed to keep vegetation from growing up in the fence lines. In such a case, a string trimmer becomes mandatory to clear the weeds.
Pulling and lifting jobs become impossible chores without a hand winch, a tool that becomes indispensable at times.
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A sturdy barn

As time goes by, you will acquire more and more tools, and you’ll find that a barn will become the ideal place to store all those tools. Even more, it will keep feed dry, it can host machinery and protect it from the elements, and it can accommodate your livestock. It can host a milking parlor for goats and pretty much all the utilities you can think of.
Most people go with the two-story, gable-roofed barn since this design passed the efficiency and time-lasting tests. Some folks incorporate their chicken coop into their barn, especially if one side of the building provides access to a pasture area. Also, keep in mind that your barn should be connected to a corral. By doing so, you will be able to move livestock between pens but also load them into a truck with ease.
Building a barn is not easy since you’re dealing with a large construction project, and it becomes a major responsibility. Your barn needs to be strong enough to hold a heavy load in the upper loft and be able to also keep the elements out.
When you decide to build a barn, look up the term “pole barns” since these empty shells can be erected for a reasonable price. Once you have the framework up and the roof in place, you will also be able to work on the rest of the barn as time and budget allow it.
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Building a greenhouse

Plastic sheeting, matched with plastic plumbing pipes and some scrap wood, allows you to build a cheap, small greenhouse that can host all your bedding plants and the seedlings you plan on selling.
There are all sorts of DIY YouTube videos that show you how to build inexpensive greenhouses. Having a greenhouse allows you to start the growing season early if you start your plants inside that greenhouse. It will also allow you to start potted plants, bedding plants, and pretty much anything you can think of without worrying about the late frost.
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Using your land efficiently

Having five acres provides you with the opportunity to take on just about any agricultural project you want. You will also be able to experiment with various projects, and you will discover that some will have greater success than others.
Having enough room allows you to experiment with different animals, crops, and various ways to monetize your operations. You will soon discover which works best for your situation and how much time you must spend to achieve a successful backyard farm.
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Setting a pasture

Some of the acreages on your farm should be used to establish a pasture for large meat-producing animals such as small cattle, pigs, sheep, alpacas. Anything other than chicken and rabbits could feed off this pasture.
The tricky thing with pastures is establishing how much pasture you allow per animal. This means that any given area can support a maximum number of animals. If you have a real winter with heavy frost and temperatures below the freezing point, for example, you will need to supplement your animals’ diet with hat, grains, or meal.
The quality of your pasture also impacts the number of animals it can sustain. To establish how good the land in your area is, you should ask local farmers for their opinions. Those with experience will be able to provide you with tips on how to increase the soil quality, what works best, and what doesn’t.
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Planting an orchard

Planting an orchard can bring you a good profit and provide you with more fruits than you could eat. However, the trick here is to establish which trees to plant. Plus, you should know that people have switched from standard-sized trees to dwarf fruit trees in recent years. They are doing so since it was established that you could get more fruit from such small trees, and you also cut corners on having to buy ladders and other equipment needed to pick the fruit.
A one-acre orchard can host around 100 standard-sized fruit trees that will bear fruit in five years. On the other hand, you could have between 400 to 600 dwarf fruit trees on that same acre, and they will bear fruit starting with the second or third year.
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Establishing a woodlot

Growing your own woodlot from scratch isn’t very practical, and it takes time, even if you plant fast-growing species. Even more, you should consider that the trees with the best firewood or those used in furniture manufacturing are usually the slowest growing ones.
However, if you already have a stand of timber on the land you bought, you can improve its growth, and in return, you will get some free firewood. Before deciding if you want to heat your home using only firewood, you must establish how well insulated your home is, how the climate in your area will affect your wood supply, and how efficient your wood burner is.
Also, you should consider the growth rate and the actual burning rate of the various species of trees available on your lot. To get a general idea of how much land is needed to grow your own firewood, you can establish how much wood you are using per year and compare that number with the standing timber you currently have on your property.
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Growing feed

If you have more than one acre of land, you can establish a feed growing area in which corn, sorghum cane, and other animal feeds can be grown. How much feed you can obtain from one acre is subjected to different variables, but you can keep in mind that the national field corn production average is between 110 and 150 bushels per acre.
If you manage to successfully grow your own feed, you’ll need a place to store it. So, here is where that barn comes into play.
Traditionally, field corn is kept in whole ears in corncribs, and smaller grains are kept in large cans or sacks. Sorghum cane is made into silage (high moisture fermented feed) by packing it into plastic bags and letting anaerobic fermentation do the work. Some folks also opt for silage instead of hay since it is much more nutritious for their livestock, so you might want to consider this option as well.
Some homesteaders grow beets as livestock feed since they hold their nutrients well during storage. But you have to consider that growing and harvesting beets is a much more sustained effort compared to other feed crops.
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Creating a pond

A pond is usually a body of water that is smaller than a lake, and digging one is not as expensive as some folks believe, considering the benefits you get for the rest of your life. You can hire heavy equipment for the day and have a decent-sized pond dug in one day’s time.
So, eight hours will be pretty much all the time you need to have your pond built. However, you must make sure you have clay-like soil in the area where you plan to create the pond; otherwise, you will have to line it with plastic or bentonite clay.
Also, consider that your land needs enough slope so that rain runoff can be diverted and keep your pond full. Once you have it filled with rainwater, you also have to stock it with fish and wait for the fish population to establish. Some large ponds won’t require feeding the fish, but in general, the fish will grow much faster if you take care of their needs in the first two years.
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Raising small livestock

Establishing a pasture allows you to keep a milk cow, but you have to figure out if your family is ready for a milk cow and if you can use that much milk. Instead of dealing with one or two milk cows (since some also decide to sell raw milk – which is a complicated endeavor), you could concentrate your efforts on smaller livestock like miniature cattle, sheep, and other animals.
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Miniature cattle

Tiny bovines have gained a lot of popularity in the last decade since some are not taller than 36 inches, and they can be raised for milk and meat without having to deal with the issues encountered when raising full-sized cattle. They are easier to handle, and transport and they require a smaller area, being cheaper to feed.
Miniature cattle are the micro version of the most common cattle breeds such as Holstein, Angus, Jersey, Hereford, but also Longhorn and Brahman. They can provide the right amount of meat for your family, and as far as your milk needs go, a miniature Holstein can give up to 3 gallons of milk per day.
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Sheep

Sheep will provide you with meat and milk and the valuable wool, which still remains the most used animal fiber on earth. If you decide to raise sheep, you should know that such animals require lush pastures and good fencing to contain them. Pastures for sheep are generally a mix of grass, forbs, and clover, but your sheep can also eat grains and hay. They also need clean, fresh water and an open-front shed.
To establish how many sheep you can raise, you can use the old rule stating that eight sheep can be raised on the land needed by one Jersey cow. Also, since you will use manure as fertilizer, you should know that one sheep can produce more than a ton of manure per year, and in general, sheep manure is a much better fertilizer compared to cattle manure.
One alternative for your animal fiber-producing project would be to raise alpacas. The value of alpaca fiber is unmatched due to its similarity to wool but also because it’s less itch and has hypoallergenic properties. You can go with the Suri breed with long and straight hair or pick the Huacaya breed with wooly and dense hair.
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Pigs

Many Americans love pork meat, and everyone I’ve met so far loves bacon. That being said, you should know that swine can be raised successfully, even in very small areas, in a humane manner. That is, of course, if you don’t have close neighbors that could be bothered by your meat production mission.
Some farm-friendly communities will allow you to grow everything except pigs since they “smell bad.” However, this is a misconception, and pigs are usually clean animals if they are not crammed together in small spaces. Pen pigs stand up to their reputation in terms of smell and cleanliness, so free-range pigs (pigs raised on pastures and in woodlands) may be the way to go if you have the available space.
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Helpful machinery to consider

No backyard farm is complete without a few helpful machines that make all chores much easier. Here are some options you should consider if you embark on such a project.
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Tractor

Tractors come in all sizes and shapes (although they do look alike), and there are clear distinctions between a small tractor and, let’s say, a riding lawnmower. Your riding lawn mower has a single purpose (mowing the lawn), and it usually has about three speeds forward. On the other hand, a small tractor can have between four and ten speeds forward, hydraulics, a three-point hitch, and a heavy-duty build that should last for a lifetime (ideally).
Small tractors can be used to pull trailers full of heavy things, and they have gears for various tasks. Some of the more popular implements are plow, grader blade, mower, bush-hog, log splitter, loader, and post-hole auger.
Tractors provide you with many options, and you can do a lot of jobs that you won’t consider until the time to do so comes. They are well-built, and they aren’t cheap since they are considered universal pieces of machinery or tools. That said, you can opt for a good used tractor if money is a problem.
If you have five acres or less, you can also go with a smaller tractor, and you can pick an import one from Japan, Korea, China, or India. Or you can look for an old Ford N-serries. Even so, there are pros and cons to each.
The import ones are newer and more modern and have various features such as very low range transmissions and many forward speeds, modern hydraulics, and a four-wheel-drive system that will prove quite handy. However, the more complex they are, the harder it will be to fix them.
On the other hand, the Ford N-series are much simpler, and they allow you to fix almost everything yourself, provided you have the owner’s manual and the wits to do it. Even if the Fords are old models, there are many out there in perfect running condition, and their simplicity in design makes them a great purchase. Parts are cheap and easy to install, and you can get a good used one for half the price you will pay for an import one.
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Two-wheel tractor

These little machines are known in popular terms as “walk-behind tractors” and can till up a heavy garden in short order with little input from the operator. These are the perfect machines if you have ground to till, and they can perform other jobs as well, provided you have the proper attachments. For example, you can blow snow using a two-wheel tractor, or you can pull carts loaded with heavy items.
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Skid-steer loader

You can also find a small skid loader on many farms since these machines do not require steering like tractors, and they can pivot by breaking one side or the other. They are extremely useful and easy to operate in close quarters since they can turn around at their own length.
Let’s say you need to move and place something within an inch or so of a certain area. Using a tractor requires complex maneuvers to do the job right but using a skid loader will make working in one spot a precise and fast operation.
And just like tractors, such types of machinery have all sorts of available implements that will fit on the front. This alone makes them ideal for lifting and moving things. They can do various bulldozer-like jobs if they are equipped with the proper implements, and some people will even dig their own ponds using nothing more than a skid-steer loader. You can also find implements such as tree shears, stump grinders, buckets, and grapples for your loaders.
Even more, these are the preferred machines and a treasured investment for those farming in their late years since they can handle a lot of lifting and portability tasks.
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Concluding

Farming on a large plot of land offers a lot of opportunities, but one also needs to plan things ahead before the heavy lifting starts. Each project will have its ups and downs, and some will prove to be most rewarding and minimize the failure of the less successful ones.
Having the right tools and the proper knowledge to use them to handle various jobs also becomes mandatory on a large farm. You will spend your time more efficiently, and you will be able to take care of more and more tasks if you have the tools that can replace manual labor. The possibilities are endless, but you need to consider your abilities and limitations when farming on a large lot.
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Article Source

Northeast park
Two hours since the invasion began
The invasion is a success. Thousands of savages have been purged and dozens captured. Not as frightening as the vision said, but the description holds true. These are the pale skin. Strangely, some of them have very dark skin and some even have skin as brown as a dwarf's. Strange indeed. Most men were taller than elves and Rosians but not as tall as an orc.
"Excellent.", Ylindar said as he observed the captives being sent through the rift, "They will be fine specimens for studying. We must find their weakness."
The 'humans', as they called themselves, resisted but fell in line eventually. The smaller ones cried and called out to their parents. It made the Rosians present sick. One of the women broke the line and ran to Ylindar. "Please! Stop this! Why are you doing this? Who are you?", she said through tears and shaking breaths.
Ylindar slapped her, causing her to fall to the ground. "Silence you wench! You are not worthy of being in my presence, let alone speak to me. Take her!". Soldiers hoisted her up and dragged her towards the others.
"You monsters!", yelled a man, "You will pay for this! You will all die her-". Before he could say more, Ylindar pierced his chest with his sword. Then he turned to the rest of the captives, "Any more of you savages willing to test me?"
"Stop!", yelled the Rosian captain present, "I demand you give us our share now."
Ylindar raised an eyebrow to that, "Your share?"
"Yes. We fought, pillaged, and brought captives. We did what you asked and now it is your turn to keep your end of the deal."
This made Ylindar chuckle, but he would humor the young Rosian, "Very well. We are an honorable empire after all. You may choose ten captives and split them amongst yourselves."
"Ten?"
"Yes. Take them now before I change my mind."
The captain faced the captains. In truth, he wanted to save the weak and innocent ones from suffering, but he couldn't save them all. He pointed to them one by one, picking out the children and elderly first as well as a woman with a child and a strong tall man who fought against the ferals and dwarves. Perhaps he could give them some insight.
"You over exceed Rosian. I said ten.", said Ylindar.
"This is ten people."
"She counts as two.", he said as he pointed to the pregnant woman.
"She is with child. That is unfair."
"And what will you do about it?"
The captain stuttered. He wanted to save her but it would mean dooming another life. What was he to do? He cursed Ylindar internally. Honorable? Horse shit.
"Leave me.", said the tall human, "Leave me behind and take her. Please." The captain was stunned, to say the least.
"Excellent", said Ylindar, "It appears you can bring them all. Enjoy your spoils.". With that, he left.
The woman thanked the tall man who then grabbed the captain by the arm and looked him in the eyes. "If anything happens to her, I will hold you responsible.", he said.
The captain nodded, "You have my word, warrior.". The man was dragged to the elven slave lines and pushed through the rift.
Ylindar was sitting at his desk writing a letter to the troops on the other side, saying the invasion was a success and a foothold was established. Handing the letter to a messenger he got up and walked to observe his army. Ten thousand elves, all gathered in a barbaric land to bring civilization. He looked up in the sky and saw the wyverns flying through the air. As he looked at them he didn't feel proud, he felt confused. There were too few of them. He brought fifty wyverns, which is half of an army's corps. Now there were less than two dozen. How?
His question would be answered as several strange contraptions flew in the air at the wyverns. They didn't have wings but still flew in a straight line. The wyverns outnumbered them and Ylindar assumed this was a victory, but his hopes were crushed as the contraptions fired what looked like cannons and tore through the wyverns like a sword through parchment.
He stepped back in shock and watched as the cannon-wielding machines finished the wyverns and turned towards them.
"General!", called a soldier, "Enemy carriages approach! It appears to be their army!"
Ylindar grinned, "At last. Soldiers of the light! Prepare yourselves! The savages have finally sent their warriors! We will crush them and clear a path for our reinforcements! Formations!"
The infantry prepared their shields and spears, archers and mages took their positions, it was time to face this world's true force. The metal carriages halted and out of them came out dozens of soldiers. Then dozens more came from flying contraptions.
Raising his sword, Ylindar yelled out the order, "Attack!".
---
"Here they come!", yelled Paterson.
"Open fire!", ordered Jefferson. The rifles, machine guns, and grenade launchers wreaked havoc upon the enemy. Bullets tore through shields, machine guns ripped people apart, and explosions turned any poor fool near it into minced meat. Their tight formations only added to their demise.
The attack helicopters arrived when they finished the dragon things and opened fire with their chain guns and anti-infantry rockets. The enemies fell by the thousands and some even started to retreat while most fell to their knees and begged for mercy.
When the firing stopped all that was left of the ten thousand enemy soldiers were scorched bodies riddled with holes. There was almost nothing left of their camp. The screaming soldiers were taken into custody. All but one guy with a cape.
"You-You dare!", yelled the blue-skinned man, "Do you have any idea who I am!? Who I represent!? You shall suffer for your barbarism!". He drew his sword and ran to the nearest soldier, who promptly raised his rifle and shot him in the chest twice.
"Round them all up.", ordered Jefferson, "Send word to HQ that it's over."
The enemy captives were loaded up into trucks and sent to Fort Curz for questioning. As they were being loaded up, one of the blue soldiers started smiling and chuckling. "What's so funny?", asked Paterson.
"This is only the beginning.", he replied. Paterson widened his eyes and ran to Jefferson.
"Sir!"
"What is it?"
"I just information on the attack. This was the first wave. More are coming."
Jefferson wasted no time in reacting and grabbed his radio, "All units, prepare for a second attack! Air squadrons, hold your positions until enough of them group up and shot down those dragons! Don't waste ammo!"
"Rodger that.", said a pilot. The guard and police force pulled back and created a semi-circle out of armored vehicles facing the portal. Hundreds of rifles and machine guns were pointed toward the shining rectangle.
---
Captain Zorgin led the second wave through the rift. The remaining forty thousand elves and ten thousand dwarves marched to the other side. But something wasn't right. When the messenger arrived he reported that the invasion was a success, but later dozens of soldiers came back saying that they should not go through. They came saying how the savages have great machines of death capable of destroying armies. Be that as it may, general Ylindar was out there and Zorgin swore he would bring him back.
"General Bardek!", he called, "You will lead the charge with your troops. After you get through, our cavalry and wyverns will enter and attack."
"Right.", said Bardek, "I can't let Dalmin have all the fun after all.". He rushed forward on his war hog, leading his troops. "Warriors of Nundolar! The enemy we face is formidable! But we will show them the might of dwarven steel!". The dwarven warrior roared and charged through the rift. As soon as they passed through they were met with a horrid sight.
Thousands dead and burned, the camp nor the general could be seen, only the line of carriages and hundreds of enemy soldiers. Bardek didn't stop to think. The adrenalin carried him forward. He charged with his troops, screaming and firing, hoping he could break the enemy's defenses. But hopes were not enough. The enemy opened fire and Bardek experienced true fear. His hog was shot and he fell to the ground. The enemy's boomsticks fired without stopping, their cannons killed dozens of soldiers with each blast, and they couldn't even get close. His pride, his dwarven pride, was broken. He could only lie down and pray he would survive.
Zorgin led his cavalry through. He looked for his general but found nothing but dead bodies and ash. He snapped back as he heard cannon fire and redirected his troops. "Over there! Their flank is less defended! We will break it, come on!". Leading the cavalry charge he kept observing the enemy. They had strange-looking black shields and only a single line between two carriages. They opened fire with their boomsticks and Zorgin's cavalry started taking casualties but still held on. Zorgin was closing in, but then the enemy soldiers fired some sort of metal boxes that spewed smoke. 'What trickery is this?', Zorgin thought, but when the smoke spread and got into their eyes, they understood its purpose. It made their eyes burn and they could hardly breathe. The horses were affected the same way as they stopped in their tracks. They couldn't see anything but they felt as if they were knocked out.
More and more soldiers exited the rift and with their sheer numbers, they were starting to get close. But as they did, the flying monsters of metal rained fire upon them and their numbers kept dropping. The wyverns were blown to pieces by either them or the cannons. It wasn't a battle, it was more of a one-sided slaughter. Only a few dozen were able to run back to the rift. Most were either wounded, screaming from the killer smoke or just lying down and surrendered. Surprisingly, the enemy took them captive instead of killing them. Zorgin tried to resist but to no avail.
"Where is general Ylindar?!", he yelled as he was dragged, "I demand you answer me immediately!"
One of the soldiers in light brown armor came up to him and grabbed him by the arm and dragged him in another direction. After stopping he pushed him to his knees. "Here.", he spoke, "Is this him?"
Zorgin could barely see, his vision was foggy, but there was no mistaking it. The armor, the cape, the helmet, it was him. Zorgin shed tears of regret, regret that he failed in his duty.
"I'll take that as a yes.", said the soldier before lifting Zorgin back on his feet.
"You haven't won!", Zorgin yelled, "Our fleet has taken your shores by now! Soon enough, more ships will follow and you will perish!"
"I wouldn't worry about that.", said the soldier in a calm tone, leaving Zorgin puzzled.
---
Three hours earlier
South coast of California, Del Mar, near San Diego
Admiral Lothar Tanros has passed through the rift. Large enough for more than a dozen ships to pass through it advanced his progress. Each fleet was well-equipped for an invasion. It consisted of twenty troop carriers with held ten thousand troops in total, thirty attack ships with eight cannons, five wyvern carriers with five to six wyverns each, and forty-five supply ships with materials necessary to build and sustain the fleet and build a coastal fortification. All are led by the admiral's personal grand ship. A huge naval vessel with several sails and cannons on both sides. Truly a powerful presentation.
"Admiral!", shouted the first mate, "Land is within sight!"
"Excellent!", said Lothar, "Let the wyvern carriers pass through first. I want air superiority as soon as possible. Along with them, I want half of our troop carriers. We need to take the shore immediately."
"Yes, admiral!".
---
Lieutenant Mitch Floyd was just doing his routine patrols. It was his turn to take the patrol boat for a spin. All he had to do was go to Dana point and back, simple, he's done it dozens of times before. All the while the crew was gathered around a TV and watching the live recordings of the attack in North Carolina. What they felt was beyond words.
"Sir, how can you not watch this?", asked a crew member.
"It's cause I trust our boys to kill those freaks.", Mitch replied, "Don't you?"
"W-Well of course but, damn. This shit is insane. Gotta say I'm jealous, I kinda want to shoot some dragons."
"Careful watch you wish for, kid.". As Mitch sailed on he began to notice something strange in front. A large number of wooden ships heading towards Del mar. In the sky were large dragon-like reptiles. 'Just my luck.", Mitch thought.
"Battle stations!", ordered Mitchel, "Looks like your wish came true Fred!"
Fred looked out and saw three dragons flying toward them, "Holy shit! I didn't mean now!". He ran towards the .50 caliber machine gun and readied himself. The cyclone class patrol boat wasn't something to be messed with. As the dragons got closer, the 25mm machine gun raised itself, aimed, and let loose. The lizards couldn't even react before they got turned into Swiss cheese.
"Woohoo!", cheered Fred, "We got 'em!"
"Don't open the champagne just yet!", Mitch shouted, "We still have those ships to deal with. I count roughly a hundred, various sizes. Richerdson, get in contact with HQ! Tell them what's going on, we need air support. Alert the National guard as well."
"Yes, sir!", said Richerdson.
'God help us.', Mitch thought as he sailed into the fray.
---
"Admiral!", yelled the first mate, "Some of our wyverns have been killed."
"Where?", Lothar asked.
"They spotted a ship coming from the south and decided to deal with it, but now they're dead."
"A single ship?"
"That is what the captain said."
"Tell them to send what attack ships are near to destroy it. Nothing must disrupt this invasion."
"Yes, Admiral."
On the shore, the savages run. They run from the water and into their city. The wyverns already started swooping down and devouring them. Their soldiers in blue clothing fired at them with their boomsticks but did next to nothing. A few managed to shoot down the riders, but that didn't stop the wyverns themselves. Now that the shore was empty, the troops could move in. Dozens of landing boats rowed to the shore and dropped off hundreds of soldiers who rallied and attacked the savages, but their weapons halted the assault.
"Push through!", yelled a lieutenant, "They are few in numbers! We must clear a path!". At that moment, two wyverns descended unto their carriages and destroyed the soldiers in blue. With that, the cohort marched on and reached the wide road. However, in the distance, they saw more metal carriages, but these were bigger and in a different color, with large boomsticks on top. The wyverns flew at them, but they soon got shot down and the carriages halted. Out of them came dozens of enemy soldiers, all dressed in vastly different armor than their blue counterparts.
The cohort got into a shield formation and the mages prepared to block the enemy's weapons, but they couldn't. Their magic wasn't working. "Do not falter!", the lieutenant shouted, "We must-". His mouth stopped moving as soon as it got blown to pieces by the enemy. The shields and armor provided them with no protection. They were all cut down and the enemy advanced. More and more of their carriages arrived and they quickly retook the shore.
"Admiral, we have a problem on the shore.", said the first mate.
"I can see that!", yelled Lothar, "Tell the attack ships to form a firing line and destroy the enemy! We cannot let them... are you listening?". The first mate pointed out towards the approaching ships in the distance. Five of them, two large and the rest smaller, all made of metal, and above them over a dozen flying arrowheads, dropping what looked like eggs. Each 'egg' landed on a ship and blew it to pieces. Dozens of ships were destroyed just like that. Lothar didn't have the words to express himself. He kept looking toward the enemy ships as they aimed their cannons and fired from impossible distances. The crew panicked and begged for help, but Lothar couldn't say anything. In his final moments, he watched as a giant metal rod flew into the sky from one of the ships and blew him to pieces along with his crew and ship.
---
"Boom!", cheered Fred, "They got the big one!"
"Shut up!", shouted Mitch, "Let's do what we came here to do.". He guided his cyclone patrol boat along with another one towards the enemy 'landing crafts'. The two opened fire with their 25mm chainguns they tore through the boats and ripped the soldiers inside apart, scattering their remains across the water. Along the way, they picked up the handful of survivors and tied them up.
In the main battle, two destroyers, USS Dewey-2, and Cutter opened fire on the enemy fleet. They targeted the largest ones first, and when they were done they moved on to the armed ships. The enemy was in complete chaos. Destroying the lead ship with the cruiser missile was a good idea, now they were leaderless and easy to take out.
The jets destroyed the ships on the outer formations and later moved inwards. Eventually, there were only thirteen ships left. Four had cannons and nine looked like they just carried supplies. They surrendered and raised white flags, a smart move. The coast guard boarded and cleared all of them before arresting the crew and towing the ships back.
"This is quite a mess lieutenant.", Fred said.
"It is. You just had to wish for a dragon, huh?"
Now that the attacks were stopped, the hard part began. Counting the losses and making a plan for what to do next.
End of chapter 3
---
Sorry for the short chapter, in hindsight I should have just written one very long one. Won't happen again, pinky promise.
Thank you very much for watching. If you'd like to support me (for some freakin' reason) and get access to future chapters early feel free to upvote, follow, and support me on Patreon (DM me for the link please)

Northeast park
Two hours since the invasion began
The invasion is a success. Thousands of savages have been purged and dozens captured. Not as frightening as the vision said, but the description holds true. These are the pale skin. Strangely, some of them have very dark skin and some even have skin as brown as a dwarf's. Strange indeed. Most men were taller than elves and Rosians but not as tall as an orc.
"Excellent.", Ylindar said as he observed the captives being sent through the rift, "They will be fine specimens for studying. We must find their weakness."
The 'humans', as they called themselves, resisted but fell in line eventually. The smaller ones cried and called out to their parents. It made the Rosians present sick. One of the women broke the line and ran to Ylindar. "Please! Stop this! Why are you doing this? Who are you?", she said through tears and shaking breaths.
Ylindar slapped her, causing her to fall to the ground. "Silence you wench! You are not worthy of being in my presence, let alone speak to me. Take her!". Soldiers hoisted her up and dragged her towards the others.
"You monsters!", yelled a man, "You will pay for this! You will all die her-". Before he could say more, Ylindar pierced his chest with his sword. Then he turned to the rest of the captives, "Any more of you savages willing to test me?"
"Stop!", yelled the Rosian captain present, "I demand you give us our share now."
Ylindar raised an eyebrow to that, "Your share?"
"Yes. We fought, pillaged, and brought captives. We did what you asked and now it is your turn to keep your end of the deal."
This made Ylindar chuckle, but he would humor the young Rosian, "Very well. We are an honorable empire after all. You may choose ten captives and split them amongst yourselves."
"Ten?"
"Yes. Take them now before I change my mind."
The captain faced the captains. In truth, he wanted to save the weak and innocent ones from suffering, but he couldn't save them all. He pointed to them one by one, picking out the children and elderly first as well as a woman with a child and a strong tall man who fought against the ferals and dwarves. Perhaps he could give them some insight.
"You over exceed Rosian. I said ten.", said Ylindar.
"This is ten people."
"She counts as two.", he said as he pointed to the pregnant woman.
"She is with child. That is unfair."
"And what will you do about it?"
The captain stuttered. He wanted to save her but it would mean dooming another life. What was he to do? He cursed Ylindar internally. Honorable? Horse shit.
"Leave me.", said the tall human, "Leave me behind and take her. Please." The captain was stunned, to say the least.
"Excellent", said Ylindar, "It appears you can bring them all. Enjoy your spoils.". With that, he left.
The woman thanked the tall man who then grabbed the captain by the arm and looked him in the eyes. "If anything happens to her, I will hold you responsible.", he said.
The captain nodded, "You have my word, warrior.". The man was dragged to the elven slave lines and pushed through the rift.
Ylindar was sitting at his desk writing a letter to the troops on the other side, saying the invasion was a success and a foothold was established. Handing the letter to a messenger he got up and walked to observe his army. Ten thousand elves, all gathered in a barbaric land to bring civilization. He looked up in the sky and saw the wyverns flying through the air. As he looked at them he didn't feel proud, he felt confused. There were too few of them. He brought fifty wyverns, which is half of an army's corps. Now there were less than two dozen. How?
His question would be answered as several strange contraptions flew in the air at the wyverns. They didn't have wings but still flew in a straight line. The wyverns outnumbered them and Ylindar assumed this was a victory, but his hopes were crushed as the contraptions fired what looked like cannons and tore through the wyverns like a sword through parchment.
He stepped back in shock and watched as the cannon-wielding machines finished the wyverns and turned towards them.
"General!", called a soldier, "Enemy carriages approach! It appears to be their army!"
Ylindar grinned, "At last. Soldiers of the light! Prepare yourselves! The savages have finally sent their warriors! We will crush them and clear a path for our reinforcements! Formations!"
The infantry prepared their shields and spears, archers and mages took their positions, it was time to face this world's true force. The metal carriages halted and out of them came out dozens of soldiers. Then dozens more came from flying contraptions.
Raising his sword, Ylindar yelled out the order, "Attack!".
---
"Here they come!", yelled Paterson.
"Open fire!", ordered Jefferson. The rifles, machine guns, and grenade launchers wreaked havoc upon the enemy. Bullets tore through shields, machine guns ripped people apart, and explosions turned any poor fool near it into minced meat. Their tight formations only added to their demise.
The attack helicopters arrived when they finished the dragon things and opened fire with their chain guns and anti-infantry rockets. The enemies fell by the thousands and some even started to retreat while most fell to their knees and begged for mercy.
When the firing stopped all that was left of the ten thousand enemy soldiers were scorched bodies riddled with holes. There was almost nothing left of their camp. The screaming soldiers were taken into custody. All but one guy with a cape.
"You-You dare!", yelled the blue-skinned man, "Do you have any idea who I am!? Who I represent!? You shall suffer for your barbarism!". He drew his sword and ran to the nearest soldier, who promptly raised his rifle and shot him in the chest twice.
"Round them all up.", ordered Jefferson, "Send word to HQ that it's over."
The enemy captives were loaded up into trucks and sent to Fort Curz for questioning. As they were being loaded up, one of the blue soldiers started smiling and chuckling. "What's so funny?", asked Paterson.
"This is only the beginning.", he replied. Paterson widened his eyes and ran to Jefferson.
"Sir!"
"What is it?"
"I just information on the attack. This was the first wave. More are coming."
Jefferson wasted no time in reacting and grabbed his radio, "All units, prepare for a second attack! Air squadrons, hold your positions until enough of them group up and shot down those dragons! Don't waste ammo!"
"Rodger that.", said a pilot. The guard and police force pulled back and created a semi-circle out of armored vehicles facing the portal. Hundreds of rifles and machine guns were pointed toward the shining rectangle.
---
Captain Zorgin led the second wave through the rift. The remaining forty thousand elves and ten thousand dwarves marched to the other side. But something wasn't right. When the messenger arrived he reported that the invasion was a success, but later dozens of soldiers came back saying that they should not go through. They came saying how the savages have great machines of death capable of destroying armies. Be that as it may, general Ylindar was out there and Zorgin swore he would bring him back.
"General Bardek!", he called, "You will lead the charge with your troops. After you get through, our cavalry and wyverns will enter and attack."
"Right.", said Bardek, "I can't let Dalmin have all the fun after all.". He rushed forward on his war hog, leading his troops. "Warriors of Nundolar! The enemy we face is formidable! But we will show them the might of dwarven steel!". The dwarven warrior roared and charged through the rift. As soon as they passed through they were met with a horrid sight.
Thousands dead and burned, the camp nor the general could be seen, only the line of carriages and hundreds of enemy soldiers. Bardek didn't stop to think. The adrenalin carried him forward. He charged with his troops, screaming and firing, hoping he could break the enemy's defenses. But hopes were not enough. The enemy opened fire and Bardek experienced true fear. His hog was shot and he fell to the ground. The enemy's boomsticks fired without stopping, their cannons killed dozens of soldiers with each blast, and they couldn't even get close. His pride, his dwarven pride, was broken. He could only lie down and pray he would survive.
Zorgin led his cavalry through. He looked for his general but found nothing but dead bodies and ash. He snapped back as he heard cannon fire and redirected his troops. "Over there! Their flank is less defended! We will break it, come on!". Leading the cavalry charge he kept observing the enemy. They had strange-looking black shields and only a single line between two carriages. They opened fire with their boomsticks and Zorgin's cavalry started taking casualties but still held on. Zorgin was closing in, but then the enemy soldiers fired some sort of metal boxes that spewed smoke. 'What trickery is this?', Zorgin thought, but when the smoke spread and got into their eyes, they understood its purpose. It made their eyes burn and they could hardly breathe. The horses were affected the same way as they stopped in their tracks. They couldn't see anything but they felt as if they were knocked out.
More and more soldiers exited the rift and with their sheer numbers, they were starting to get close. But as they did, the flying monsters of metal rained fire upon them and their numbers kept dropping. The wyverns were blown to pieces by either them or the cannons. It wasn't a battle, it was more of a one-sided slaughter. Only a few dozen were able to run back to the rift. Most were either wounded, screaming from the killer smoke or just lying down and surrendered. Surprisingly, the enemy took them captive instead of killing them. Zorgin tried to resist but to no avail.
"Where is general Ylindar?!", he yelled as he was dragged, "I demand you answer me immediately!"
One of the soldiers in light brown armor came up to him and grabbed him by the arm and dragged him in another direction. After stopping he pushed him to his knees. "Here.", he spoke, "Is this him?"
Zorgin could barely see, his vision was foggy, but there was no mistaking it. The armor, the cape, the helmet, it was him. Zorgin shed tears of regret, regret that he failed in his duty.
"I'll take that as a yes.", said the soldier before lifting Zorgin back on his feet.
"You haven't won!", Zorgin yelled, "Our fleet has taken your shores by now! Soon enough, more ships will follow and you will perish!"
"I wouldn't worry about that.", said the soldier in a calm tone, leaving Zorgin puzzled.
---
Three hours earlier
South coast of California, Del Mar, near San Diego
Admiral Lothar Tanros has passed through the rift. Large enough for more than a dozen ships to pass through it advanced his progress. Each fleet was well-equipped for an invasion. It consisted of twenty troop carriers with held ten thousand troops in total, thirty attack ships with eight cannons, five wyvern carriers with five to six wyverns each, and forty-five supply ships with materials necessary to build and sustain the fleet and build a coastal fortification. All are led by the admiral's personal grand ship. A huge naval vessel with several sails and cannons on both sides. Truly a powerful presentation.
"Admiral!", shouted the first mate, "Land is within sight!"
"Excellent!", said Lothar, "Let the wyvern carriers pass through first. I want air superiority as soon as possible. Along with them, I want half of our troop carriers. We need to take the shore immediately."
"Yes, admiral!".
---
Lieutenant Mitch Floyd was just doing his routine patrols. It was his turn to take the patrol boat for a spin. All he had to do was go to Dana point and back, simple, he's done it dozens of times before. All the while the crew was gathered around a TV and watching the live recordings of the attack in North Carolina. What they felt was beyond words.
"Sir, how can you not watch this?", asked a crew member.
"It's cause I trust our boys to kill those freaks.", Mitch replied, "Don't you?"
"W-Well of course but, damn. This shit is insane. Gotta say I'm jealous, I kinda want to shoot some dragons."
"Careful watch you wish for, kid.". As Mitch sailed on he began to notice something strange in front. A large number of wooden ships heading towards Del mar. In the sky were large dragon-like reptiles. 'Just my luck.", Mitch thought.
"Battle stations!", ordered Mitchel, "Looks like your wish came true Fred!"
Fred looked out and saw three dragons flying toward them, "Holy shit! I didn't mean now!". He ran towards the .50 caliber machine gun and readied himself. The cyclone class patrol boat wasn't something to be messed with. As the dragons got closer, the 25mm machine gun raised itself, aimed, and let loose. The lizards couldn't even react before they got turned into Swiss cheese.
"Woohoo!", cheered Fred, "We got 'em!"
"Don't open the champagne just yet!", Mitch shouted, "We still have those ships to deal with. I count roughly a hundred, various sizes. Richerdson, get in contact with HQ! Tell them what's going on, we need air support. Alert the National guard as well."
"Yes, sir!", said Richerdson.
'God help us.', Mitch thought as he sailed into the fray.
---
"Admiral!", yelled the first mate, "Some of our wyverns have been killed."
"Where?", Lothar asked.
"They spotted a ship coming from the south and decided to deal with it, but now they're dead."
"A single ship?"
"That is what the captain said."
"Tell them to send what attack ships are near to destroy it. Nothing must disrupt this invasion."
"Yes, Admiral."
On the shore, the savages run. They run from the water and into their city. The wyverns already started swooping down and devouring them. Their soldiers in blue clothing fired at them with their boomsticks but did next to nothing. A few managed to shoot down the riders, but that didn't stop the wyverns themselves. Now that the shore was empty, the troops could move in. Dozens of landing boats rowed to the shore and dropped off hundreds of soldiers who rallied and attacked the savages, but their weapons halted the assault.
"Push through!", yelled a lieutenant, "They are few in numbers! We must clear a path!". At that moment, two wyverns descended unto their carriages and destroyed the soldiers in blue. With that, the cohort marched on and reached the wide road. However, in the distance, they saw more metal carriages, but these were bigger and in a different color, with large boomsticks on top. The wyverns flew at them, but they soon got shot down and the carriages halted. Out of them came dozens of enemy soldiers, all dressed in vastly different armor than their blue counterparts.
The cohort got into a shield formation and the mages prepared to block the enemy's weapons, but they couldn't. Their magic wasn't working. "Do not falter!", the lieutenant shouted, "We must-". His mouth stopped moving as soon as it got blown to pieces by the enemy. The shields and armor provided them with no protection. They were all cut down and the enemy advanced. More and more of their carriages arrived and they quickly retook the shore.
"Admiral, we have a problem on the shore.", said the first mate.
"I can see that!", yelled Lothar, "Tell the attack ships to form a firing line and destroy the enemy! We cannot let them... are you listening?". The first mate pointed out towards the approaching ships in the distance. Five of them, two large and the rest smaller, all made of metal, and above them over a dozen flying arrowheads, dropping what looked like eggs. Each 'egg' landed on a ship and blew it to pieces. Dozens of ships were destroyed just like that. Lothar didn't have the words to express himself. He kept looking toward the enemy ships as they aimed their cannons and fired from impossible distances. The crew panicked and begged for help, but Lothar couldn't say anything. In his final moments, he watched as a giant metal rod flew into the sky from one of the ships and blew him to pieces along with his crew and ship.
---
"Boom!", cheered Fred, "They got the big one!"
"Shut up!", shouted Mitch, "Let's do what we came here to do.". He guided his cyclone patrol boat along with another one towards the enemy 'landing crafts'. The two opened fire with their 25mm chainguns they tore through the boats and ripped the soldiers inside apart, scattering their remains across the water. Along the way, they picked up the handful of survivors and tied them up.
In the main battle, two destroyers, USS Dewey-2, and Cutter opened fire on the enemy fleet. They targeted the largest ones first, and when they were done they moved on to the armed ships. The enemy was in complete chaos. Destroying the lead ship with the cruiser missile was a good idea, now they were leaderless and easy to take out.
The jets destroyed the ships on the outer formations and later moved inwards. Eventually, there were only thirteen ships left. Four had cannons and nine looked like they just carried supplies. They surrendered and raised white flags, a smart move. The coast guard boarded and cleared all of them before arresting the crew and towing the ships back.
"This is quite a mess lieutenant.", Fred said.
"It is. You just had to wish for a dragon, huh?"
Now that the attacks were stopped, the hard part began. Counting the losses and making a plan for what to do next.
End of chapter 3
---
Sorry for the short chapter, in hindsight I should have just written one very long one. Won't happen again, pinky promise.
Thank you very much for watching. If you'd like to support me (for some freakin' reason) and get access to future chapters early feel free to upvote, follow, and support me on Patreon:
patreon.com/SimpleWrites