Shoulder strap for dewalt string trimmer
Kayobi's Days Off C24
2023.06.10 20:04 endersgame69 Kayobi's Days Off C24
I woke up in the morning to the smell of something cooking.
That was definitely off. I stretched out in my bed, “I’m finally going to be done with all that bothersome ‘work’.” I told myself with a smile on my face as I eased myself out of bed and rose to my feet.
A quick burning hot shower, and I was content, all was right with the world again.
I threw on my ‘outside clothes’ and emerged to find the cause of the odorous disturbance in my domicile…Celia was standing at an oven I’d never touched in my entire life.
“G’morning.” She said. She was still in her child sized shape, and dressed in something akin to pajamas… no, they ‘were’ pajamas. Ones covered in little animal patterns.
“Uh… yeah… it is, I guess, considering that I’m awake instead of asleep, I guess it’s fine but…” I yawned and rubbed the back of my head, “Why are you up so early, and what’s with…?” I looked her up and down.
“What’s with what?” She looked over her shoulder at me with a little smug expression on her face.
“This?!” I said and waved my other hand up and down in front of her.
“Oh.” Celia’s expression never wavered.
“Well, I did a little research on Earth after my last visit, not much, but I figured I should know how to dress at least.” She pinched the soft cloth of the yellow pajamas and gave them a little tug, “These really are comfortable, by the way, you were not wrong about humans being good at comfort.”
“And your… tiny self?” I asked, and she chuckled.
“Oh, well you are the one who said I was your niece, after all. So now I suppose I should play the part. Besides, you are a lot older than I am, by what, a few hundred years?” She asked. She spun around with spatula in hand and held it up at her side like a soldier’s sabre and struck a stiff pose. “As my senpai, I think that is the word, I must look to you for guidance and instruction, and rely on you to take care of me while I am unfamiliar with everything…”
She was not sounding like a normal swapper. Then it hit me, she was much younger than I am. Young swappers are often prone to adopting the characteristics of what they imitate, we all are, really, but the younger they are the more true this is.
Another sneaky suspicion struck me, “How long have you been awake for?” I asked.
“About six hours.” She said, “I’ve been binge watching a lot!” A giant grin came over her face. “I was watching this one thing about a boy who lived with two girls, one of whom was his sister and he didn’t know which one… all the shenanigans!”
“Oh.” I dragged my hand down over my face, “Celia, how long do you usually take on the forms of other races for?” I asked.
She tapped the tip of the spatula against her cheek, “Um, I don’t know, a few hours, just long enough to do a job, I don’t do my own scouting, I’m too new for that so… maybe a tenth of this time, why?”
“Oh my… um… can you… do something for me?” I asked.
“Like make breakfast? I’m already on it, aunt Kayobi!” She laughed and spun back around and began stirring something up in whatever pan was on the stovetop over the oven. “I saw this thing where a dragon girl kept making omletts and they were too big, so I decided to try my hand at making them. Thankfully you had some stuff I could sort of improvise… I don’t know much about taste but-” She was rambling, I had to cut her off.
“That’s fine.” I interjected, “But… hasn’t anyone ever told you that you shouldn’t ‘swap’ for this long without going back or at least going to something else?”
“Yes, but it’s no problem, this is a human body after all and humans are super easy. It’ll barely be an inconvenience to shift to anything else. After all, they’re sort of shaped like us, who knows, maybe they’ll evolve into swappers too one day, if that healing factor of theirs keeps improving at least.” Celia said, she didn’t see the concerned expression on my face.
‘This is not good. No, this is definitely not good. She took on the characteristics of a child, a human child, and those are reckless, negligent, have horrible survival instincts, and routinely dismiss danger or problems to an absurd degree. It would be exactly like a human child to neglect the obvious in favor of just doing nothing…plus she’s young so she’s even more vulnerable to these things…’ I had to suppress my groan.
If she couldn’t swap back, she couldn’t go back. Not in the ‘oh no she’ll die’ sense. Not in the ‘she’s violated a law sense and will be harshly punished’ sense either.
No… no. If word of this got back to the others, she would be absolutely disgraced and shamed beyond all reason. It’s not as embarrassing as say, waving back at someone who wasn’t waving at you. It’s a thousand times worst.
It’s more like… if a human lost control of their bowels at their job where friends and family worked. At that point you might as well quit, change your name, and start your life over in a whole new place in the world.
Celia would never be able to look at the rest of her coworkers again without a sense of disgrace… and I know Celia. She’s a nice one, sort of sensitive about even asking for help, kind of insecure, really. She wouldn’t be able to handle it, she’d have to quit.
I sat down at the table. “Celia, I want you to do something for me, and I don’t want you to panic.”
“I know, I know, you want some red peppers added on top of your omlett, don’t worry, I saw you didn’t have any, but I saved some from the pizza last night, they included a couple of packets. I didn’t throw them out, so I’ll just add those real quick to your omlet and…”
I cleared my throat. “No, no, that’s fine.” I said.
“Oh, then here you go.” She said and slid the omlet onto a paper plate and handed it to me along with one of my many plastic forks.
“I want…” I started to say, and she leaned forward, her dark hair tumbled down behind her, she was waiting for me to try her food.
I stopped. I looked down at the dish. It actually smelled really good. I usually cooked bacon in the microwave, it seemed she’d chosen to use the oven, and that paid off. I could smell the bacon inside, and my mouth began to water.
I cut into the yellow goodness and then raised a bite to my mouth, the cheese within stretched into tiny strings and I put the morsel onto my tongue.
Flavor exploded. “This is amazing!” I shouted.
She grinned ear to ear and waited for me to take a second bite. I stopped myself, I set the fork down and set my palms flat on the table. “No, no Kayobi, don’t get distracted.”
“What?” Celia asked, “You said it was good, right?” She asked.
“Yes… and it is. But I need you to do something else… something not food related.” I said, and her mouth closed before she could ask whatever was on her mind.
“Try to swap back to your natural form.” I said.
“But that’s-” She started to object.
“Just do it.” I said.
She shrugged. “Fine.” She breathed out the annoyed sigh of every teenager in the history of humanity.
I waited.
She looked down at her hand. Her feet. She looked at her reflection in the glass window on the wall. She gritted her teeth and clenched her jaw and began to grunt and groan.
“I…what…” Celia’s eyes went very wide, she kept trying.
But she also kept failing.
“I’m… stuck.” She whispered.
“Yup. Looks like.” I said, and she looked at me with an expression of horrified shame as if she’d shat herself in front of me.
I held up a hand to stop the horrified apologies or bawling or whatever.
“Relax, nobody else knows, I won’t tell anyone, and I’ll help you get back to normal.” I promised.
A few minutes later, I knew what tears of relief on a human looked like when she was asking…
“You’re really not going to tell anyone… you’re going to help me get back to normal and never say a thing, you promise?” She asked.
“Yes.” I answered.
“Thank you…” Celia whispered and began to wipe her nose, I shrugged off her thanks and took another bite of the omlet.
“Don’t worry about it but… can I have another one of these before we get to work?” I asked, and a smile slowly came back to her face as she got up to make another.
“Do you know how to fix this?” She asked.
“Nope. But I have a clue.” I said as she opened the fridge to get out more eggs, cheese, and bacon.
“How?” She asked tentatively, looking over her shoulder at me while she rummaged.
“We wing it.” I said, and for good measure, brought wings out of my back in the hopes of making her laugh.
It got a little one, and that was a start, at least.
submitted by endersgame69 to TheWorldMaker [link] [comments]
That was definitely off. I stretched out in my bed, “I’m finally going to be done with all that bothersome ‘work’.” I told myself with a smile on my face as I eased myself out of bed and rose to my feet.
A quick burning hot shower, and I was content, all was right with the world again.
I threw on my ‘outside clothes’ and emerged to find the cause of the odorous disturbance in my domicile…Celia was standing at an oven I’d never touched in my entire life.
“G’morning.” She said. She was still in her child sized shape, and dressed in something akin to pajamas… no, they ‘were’ pajamas. Ones covered in little animal patterns.
“Uh… yeah… it is, I guess, considering that I’m awake instead of asleep, I guess it’s fine but…” I yawned and rubbed the back of my head, “Why are you up so early, and what’s with…?” I looked her up and down.
“What’s with what?” She looked over her shoulder at me with a little smug expression on her face.
“This?!” I said and waved my other hand up and down in front of her.
“Oh.” Celia’s expression never wavered.
“Well, I did a little research on Earth after my last visit, not much, but I figured I should know how to dress at least.” She pinched the soft cloth of the yellow pajamas and gave them a little tug, “These really are comfortable, by the way, you were not wrong about humans being good at comfort.”
“And your… tiny self?” I asked, and she chuckled.
“Oh, well you are the one who said I was your niece, after all. So now I suppose I should play the part. Besides, you are a lot older than I am, by what, a few hundred years?” She asked. She spun around with spatula in hand and held it up at her side like a soldier’s sabre and struck a stiff pose. “As my senpai, I think that is the word, I must look to you for guidance and instruction, and rely on you to take care of me while I am unfamiliar with everything…”
She was not sounding like a normal swapper. Then it hit me, she was much younger than I am. Young swappers are often prone to adopting the characteristics of what they imitate, we all are, really, but the younger they are the more true this is.
Another sneaky suspicion struck me, “How long have you been awake for?” I asked.
“About six hours.” She said, “I’ve been binge watching a lot!” A giant grin came over her face. “I was watching this one thing about a boy who lived with two girls, one of whom was his sister and he didn’t know which one… all the shenanigans!”
“Oh.” I dragged my hand down over my face, “Celia, how long do you usually take on the forms of other races for?” I asked.
She tapped the tip of the spatula against her cheek, “Um, I don’t know, a few hours, just long enough to do a job, I don’t do my own scouting, I’m too new for that so… maybe a tenth of this time, why?”
“Oh my… um… can you… do something for me?” I asked.
“Like make breakfast? I’m already on it, aunt Kayobi!” She laughed and spun back around and began stirring something up in whatever pan was on the stovetop over the oven. “I saw this thing where a dragon girl kept making omletts and they were too big, so I decided to try my hand at making them. Thankfully you had some stuff I could sort of improvise… I don’t know much about taste but-” She was rambling, I had to cut her off.
“That’s fine.” I interjected, “But… hasn’t anyone ever told you that you shouldn’t ‘swap’ for this long without going back or at least going to something else?”
“Yes, but it’s no problem, this is a human body after all and humans are super easy. It’ll barely be an inconvenience to shift to anything else. After all, they’re sort of shaped like us, who knows, maybe they’ll evolve into swappers too one day, if that healing factor of theirs keeps improving at least.” Celia said, she didn’t see the concerned expression on my face.
‘This is not good. No, this is definitely not good. She took on the characteristics of a child, a human child, and those are reckless, negligent, have horrible survival instincts, and routinely dismiss danger or problems to an absurd degree. It would be exactly like a human child to neglect the obvious in favor of just doing nothing…plus she’s young so she’s even more vulnerable to these things…’ I had to suppress my groan.
If she couldn’t swap back, she couldn’t go back. Not in the ‘oh no she’ll die’ sense. Not in the ‘she’s violated a law sense and will be harshly punished’ sense either.
No… no. If word of this got back to the others, she would be absolutely disgraced and shamed beyond all reason. It’s not as embarrassing as say, waving back at someone who wasn’t waving at you. It’s a thousand times worst.
It’s more like… if a human lost control of their bowels at their job where friends and family worked. At that point you might as well quit, change your name, and start your life over in a whole new place in the world.
Celia would never be able to look at the rest of her coworkers again without a sense of disgrace… and I know Celia. She’s a nice one, sort of sensitive about even asking for help, kind of insecure, really. She wouldn’t be able to handle it, she’d have to quit.
I sat down at the table. “Celia, I want you to do something for me, and I don’t want you to panic.”
“I know, I know, you want some red peppers added on top of your omlett, don’t worry, I saw you didn’t have any, but I saved some from the pizza last night, they included a couple of packets. I didn’t throw them out, so I’ll just add those real quick to your omlet and…”
I cleared my throat. “No, no, that’s fine.” I said.
“Oh, then here you go.” She said and slid the omlet onto a paper plate and handed it to me along with one of my many plastic forks.
“I want…” I started to say, and she leaned forward, her dark hair tumbled down behind her, she was waiting for me to try her food.
I stopped. I looked down at the dish. It actually smelled really good. I usually cooked bacon in the microwave, it seemed she’d chosen to use the oven, and that paid off. I could smell the bacon inside, and my mouth began to water.
I cut into the yellow goodness and then raised a bite to my mouth, the cheese within stretched into tiny strings and I put the morsel onto my tongue.
Flavor exploded. “This is amazing!” I shouted.
She grinned ear to ear and waited for me to take a second bite. I stopped myself, I set the fork down and set my palms flat on the table. “No, no Kayobi, don’t get distracted.”
“What?” Celia asked, “You said it was good, right?” She asked.
“Yes… and it is. But I need you to do something else… something not food related.” I said, and her mouth closed before she could ask whatever was on her mind.
“Try to swap back to your natural form.” I said.
“But that’s-” She started to object.
“Just do it.” I said.
She shrugged. “Fine.” She breathed out the annoyed sigh of every teenager in the history of humanity.
I waited.
She looked down at her hand. Her feet. She looked at her reflection in the glass window on the wall. She gritted her teeth and clenched her jaw and began to grunt and groan.
“I…what…” Celia’s eyes went very wide, she kept trying.
But she also kept failing.
“I’m… stuck.” She whispered.
“Yup. Looks like.” I said, and she looked at me with an expression of horrified shame as if she’d shat herself in front of me.
I held up a hand to stop the horrified apologies or bawling or whatever.
“Relax, nobody else knows, I won’t tell anyone, and I’ll help you get back to normal.” I promised.
A few minutes later, I knew what tears of relief on a human looked like when she was asking…
“You’re really not going to tell anyone… you’re going to help me get back to normal and never say a thing, you promise?” She asked.
“Yes.” I answered.
“Thank you…” Celia whispered and began to wipe her nose, I shrugged off her thanks and took another bite of the omlet.
“Don’t worry about it but… can I have another one of these before we get to work?” I asked, and a smile slowly came back to her face as she got up to make another.
“Do you know how to fix this?” She asked.
“Nope. But I have a clue.” I said as she opened the fridge to get out more eggs, cheese, and bacon.
“How?” She asked tentatively, looking over her shoulder at me while she rummaged.
“We wing it.” I said, and for good measure, brought wings out of my back in the hopes of making her laugh.
It got a little one, and that was a start, at least.
2023.06.10 18:53 Degroomed Any recommendations for a cheap, LONGER neck / shoulder strap for A7IV?
Hi all.
The included strap is just too short, it sits too high up. Any recommendations on what I can buy instead? Thanks.
submitted by Degroomed to SonyAlpha [link] [comments]
The included strap is just too short, it sits too high up. Any recommendations on what I can buy instead? Thanks.
2023.06.10 17:48 Jane-Carryology Comparison: RucPac Hardcase Backpack Conversion vs Baggex Store Hard Case/Carry-on Luggage Backpack Conversion System
If you're looking for a way to convert your wheeled hardcase into a backpack, two popular options on the market are the Baggex Store Hard Case/Carry-on Luggage Case Backpack Carrying System and the RucPac Hardcase Backpack Conversion. Here's a breakdown of the features and pricing of these two products.
The Baggex Store Hard Case/Carry-on Luggage Case Backpack Carrying System is a versatile option that can convert not only hard cases but also carry-on luggage and any wheeled suitcase at 22" or below. Its adjustable strap length allows for lower or higher position carrying, and it can hold different sizes of hard cases. The system also includes one sleeve main zipper pocket, three zippered pockets for personal items, and a button lock to secure the buckle. Its nylon cap covers the panel straps and buckles, giving it a sleek and slim look. This system is priced at US$69 with free worldwide shipping.
On the other hand, the RucPac Hardcase Backpack Conversion is specifically designed to be compatible with a wide range of hardcase brands, including Pelican™, Peli™, SKB™, Nanuk™, Seahorse™, HPRC™, Max™, B+W™, Explorer™, Vanguard™, Rimowa™, Away™, and Zarges™. It allows immediate access into the hardcase whilst still attached, and its generously-sized padded shoulder area and straps provide comfort and durability. The system includes height adjustable shoulder straps, quick detachable features, and dual accessory D rings. The weight bearing webbing straps secure to the top handle, wheels, and extendable handle of the hardcase, offering reliable, non-invasive fitment. This system is priced at US$99.99 with free worldwide shipping.
Both the Baggex Store Hard Case/Carry-on Luggage Case Backpack Carrying System and the RucPac Hardcase Backpack Conversion offer a comfortable and convenient way to convert your wheeled hardcase into a backpack. The Baggex Store option is more affordable, and can convert a wider range of luggage types as well as its storage functions, while the RucPac option is specifically designed to fit a wide range of hardcase brands and offers additional features such as adjustable shoulder straps and quick detachable features. Ultimately, the choice between these two options will depend on your specific needs and preferences.
submitted by Jane-Carryology to backpacks [link] [comments]
The Baggex Store Hard Case/Carry-on Luggage Case Backpack Carrying System is a versatile option that can convert not only hard cases but also carry-on luggage and any wheeled suitcase at 22" or below. Its adjustable strap length allows for lower or higher position carrying, and it can hold different sizes of hard cases. The system also includes one sleeve main zipper pocket, three zippered pockets for personal items, and a button lock to secure the buckle. Its nylon cap covers the panel straps and buckles, giving it a sleek and slim look. This system is priced at US$69 with free worldwide shipping.
On the other hand, the RucPac Hardcase Backpack Conversion is specifically designed to be compatible with a wide range of hardcase brands, including Pelican™, Peli™, SKB™, Nanuk™, Seahorse™, HPRC™, Max™, B+W™, Explorer™, Vanguard™, Rimowa™, Away™, and Zarges™. It allows immediate access into the hardcase whilst still attached, and its generously-sized padded shoulder area and straps provide comfort and durability. The system includes height adjustable shoulder straps, quick detachable features, and dual accessory D rings. The weight bearing webbing straps secure to the top handle, wheels, and extendable handle of the hardcase, offering reliable, non-invasive fitment. This system is priced at US$99.99 with free worldwide shipping.
Both the Baggex Store Hard Case/Carry-on Luggage Case Backpack Carrying System and the RucPac Hardcase Backpack Conversion offer a comfortable and convenient way to convert your wheeled hardcase into a backpack. The Baggex Store option is more affordable, and can convert a wider range of luggage types as well as its storage functions, while the RucPac option is specifically designed to fit a wide range of hardcase brands and offers additional features such as adjustable shoulder straps and quick detachable features. Ultimately, the choice between these two options will depend on your specific needs and preferences.
2023.06.10 17:24 m0drnmoonlight Favorite/Least favorite Claudia outfit?
This is always a fun conversation topic. Claudia could pull some looks together but also had some that were pure hot mess.
My favorite? There's one in Claudia and the Great Search where it's like a blouse with pink and blue poodles all over it, a black skirt and turquoise flats with ankle straps. And I think she had matching poodle earrings? It sounded cute.
Least favorite? In Dawn and the Big Sleepover, Claudia's wearing a pink, off-the-shoulder polka dot blouse, a "ragged bottom" over black tights (had to check my old entry on bsc_snark for the exact words) and her hair is in a ponytail held with a bone barrette like Pebbles Flintstone. Dawn says she looks cool but no, that isn't cool. That's a Halloween costume.
Thoughts?
submitted by m0drnmoonlight to babysittersclub [link] [comments]
My favorite? There's one in Claudia and the Great Search where it's like a blouse with pink and blue poodles all over it, a black skirt and turquoise flats with ankle straps. And I think she had matching poodle earrings? It sounded cute.
Least favorite? In Dawn and the Big Sleepover, Claudia's wearing a pink, off-the-shoulder polka dot blouse, a "ragged bottom" over black tights (had to check my old entry on bsc_snark for the exact words) and her hair is in a ponytail held with a bone barrette like Pebbles Flintstone. Dawn says she looks cool but no, that isn't cool. That's a Halloween costume.
Thoughts?
2023.06.10 16:48 TheBlackCycloneOrder If You Gamble Against a Man With a Hat for a Face, Know What Your Wager Is
All I ever wanted was for my wife and I to live comfortably. But the longer we stayed together, the higher our bills increased. We’d already fought off debts from college, barely scraping by. Even after we paid them off, we were only able to afford a tiny apartment on the outskirts of New York City.
Sidewalks laid cracked everywhere while condemned buildings sat sadly against their crooked foundations. Crooked lampposts would hang only by electrical wires. Graffiti marked every street corner in bland art that existed without rhyme or reason. Homeless people could be found on every street corner, a constant reminder of what would happen if my wife and I failed to keep up with our payments.
However, I managed to make somewhat decent money as a plumber. But even then, it sometimes wasn’t enough to deal with loan sharks, the hefty utility bills, food prices, and gas money. I was willing to do anything to get us out.
And that is where I encountered gambling. I was willing to take the risks. I’d take any chance to obtain a reward, even just a small one. It started out with just a handful of poker games. Then I moved on to scratch tickets and slot machines. All I needed was enough to get by. Unfortunately, obtaining a payday from the casinos was impossible. I started growing desperate, which only led to more debt. The whole cycle sucked me down like Odysseus’ ship in Charybdis’ maw. And just like that, my relationship with my wife began to tear us apart.
My wife and I were once so close together. Before we married, there would be days where we’d work together at wood shops, creating 3D prints of various sci-fi characters and video games. Other times we’d study the components of circuits and use them to create elaborate lighting displays whenever Christmas arrived. Our wedding day was supposed to be the greatest day of our lives. Instead of relying on the help of others back like we did in college, we relied on ourselves.
But my actions tore all that apart. I didn’t know what else to do, either.
—
A few nights ago, I arrived at my shitty apartment, having completed a ten hour shift fixing the drains of several upper class folks. I rested my hand on the knob, expecting the worst from my wife. Sighing, I pushed the door. The moment I did, she was already in the front hall. Her eyes were scrunched and she was holding a bank statement, smacking it for emphasis.
“Care for an explanation?” She demanded.
I rubbed my temples, removing my scum covered overalls and plopping them right into the nearest laundry hamper. We locked eyes. Breaking eye contact with her would only ignite her anger further. She was holding another piece of evidence of my failures. My failure to strike it rich. All I could do was stand there sheepishly, tail tucked behind me, and wait to get ripped a new one. No words could come out of my mouth.
She marched up to me, holding it in my face. “Frank, you wasted three-thousand dollars at the casino AGAIN?!” my wife bellowed.
I set my tool box down and washed the pipe gunk from my hands, looking down just for a bit.
“Turn around and look me in the eyes.”
Resting a hand on my eyes, I glanced over at her petite frame. Then, I began to speak. “We can live comfortably if you just give-“
“Enough of the excuses! We nearly lost our apartment twice by you betting on slots, you wasted our heating money on roulette, and now this!”
I held up my hands reassuringly. “Look, just let me figure this out! I’ll think of some way to get the money!”
“You’d better. Otherwise we’re getting a divorce. Got it?”
Without another word, I put on a casual outfit, exiting for some fresh air. Shutting the door behind me, I gazed back at the unpolished apartment number on the frame. Wincing, I clenched a fist and descended the rickety stairs. Eventually, my boots hit the cracked pavement, and I headed off.
---
I had only made it a few blocks from my apartment, when I noticed shadows lurking in one of the alleyways. Picking up my stride, I try to evade the figures. They drew closer and closer. My stride changed into a sprint. Another alleyway comes into my sights. I make a break for it, hoping for an opportunity to escape. Only a dead end greets me. Before long, the figures cornered me. The light from a street lamp illuminated two shady faces. Loan sharks. Before I could react, the duo held me up by my throat.
“What the hell are you guys doing?!” I strained, feebly kicking back one of the thugs. He jammed a fist right under my rib cage. My lips pursed as I lost my breath. The other grabbed me by the chin, grinning like a maniac and revealing his tobacco rotted jaw. I gulped.
“Frank, calm down. Take it easy,” every word he said ground my inner ears. Brown saliva sprayed on my cheeks. “We just want to have a little talk…” I didn’t have the courage to speak up. All I could do was let them tell me everything.
“Your landlord is getting rather impatient with your payments. We just came to send a little message. He has some demands.” The other guy snarled.
I tugged on my collar. “What…demands?”
“The landlord wants you to cough up $18,000 for your next payment!”
My hands grew clammy. Were they out of their minds? I was a plumber, not a heart surgeon! I didn’t have that kind of money! Besides, the rent was only $500 a month.
“You have until the end of the month,” one of the goons croaked.
That was only two weeks! I couldn’t have made that kind of money with such constraints! I’d barely be able to afford food and electricity! Negotiating was out of the question. God knows what would have happened to me if I dared speak up.
“The landlord has given you chance after chance to pay up. But you’ve never followed through. He’s let it slide for three months. You haven’t paid shit in that time frame. Do you realize how much he has to pay for his own apartment? If you fail to pay at that time, there will be consequences…” He makes a capiche gesture.
I nodded. The moment I complied, they released me, disappearing into the smog.
—
I stood outside a graffiti covered subway station, pacing around, hands in my pockets. My fists constricted as I pounded a nearby wall. There’s no way I would have been able to make that kind of money! Craps were too unpredictable, arcade machines were always rigged, and roulette was too high in stakes. Seeing red, I screamed and kicked a wall as hard as I could. My foot throbbed and once I was done with my fit, I broke down sobbing. The sidewalk darkened with my tears. I pressed my head against it, clawing at it until my fingernails turned crimson.
Then, I felt a tap on my shoulder. Wiping the tears away, I glanced over my shoulder. A card was lying on the floor. Its borders were covered in green dollar symbols. The rest of the card was a silver color shiny enough to reflect my face in it. Written in gold letters were the following:
ACES HIGH CASINO
WIN ONE ROUND OF BLACKJACK
AND EARN FIFTY MILLION DOLLARS!
NO MONETARY WAGER NEEDED
TABLE 777
My eyes lit up. All I had to do was win one game of blackjack, and I’d be rich? Dimples formed on my cheeks and I pumped my fist. I nearly clicked my heels in joy, but decided against it. I’d already caused enough of a scene already, and I wanted to make sure nobody knew my secret. When I flipped it around, it had an address also written in golden letters.
---
Despite the address being in an unknown area, I still managed to pull it up on my phone’s map and arrived without any struggle. The casino itself was a pigsty, to say the least. Smokers polluted the air in the prison gray interior. Slot machines with broken lights clicked and whirred while cheap dice clattered against tables with peeling felt. Meanwhile, the concrete floor was covered in colonies of roaches while neglected beer bottles sat against the rungs of several tables. The only thing that was kept well was the bar and a room draped with navy blue curtains with golden sashes. Emblazoned above the doorway was the number 777.
This was the first time I had entered a casino smiling. For once, I thought that this was my lucky night.
When I pushed the curtains away, they revealed a room with ornate black wallpaper, an assortment of oak desks and other furniture. The walls were covered in fine Baroque paintings. On the floor was a single blue carpet covered in opulent tapestry. I followed the back wall to a single dealer table coated in green felt. Two seats were present with one patron taking the seat on the left. He was shaking with what I assumed was excitement.
Behind him was the dealer, a trim man with long blond hair and a top hat over his nose and eyes. He wore a dapper tuxedo free of blemishes that shimmered in the light of a single hanging glass lamp. His skin was pure and free of moles, glistening with slight amounts of glitter.
“Why, hello there…” The man spoke in a voice slicker than the gel in his hair. “Are you here to win big?” Unlike the loan sharks, his teeth were cleaner than a freshly washed plate.
“Yup. Deal me in.” I said, straightening my back, shuffling into the last seat. The other player had his jaw locked together. His eyes were drooping and bloodshot. Sweat pooled around his brow like glass beads. Just like him, I always felt nervous about losing, so their reaction was understandable.
“You know the rules of blackjack. I deal out cards. You can say ‘hit me’ if you want more cards. Get closest to twenty one without going over. Dealer only draws two cards. And you can also surrender your cards for half your bet. When you don’t want any more cards, say the word ‘stand.’” The dealer said, shuffling the cards through his hands and manipulating them like a sculptor with a ceramic pot.
I double blinked. Wager? “What do I bet with?”
The mysterious man just focused on passing out his cards. First, he brought out two cards for himself and dealt two more to each player. Instantly, he flipped over his cards. A jack and a king. Twenty.
I clutched the velvet backed cards, seeing what I was dealt.
A ten and a seven of hearts. I forced my face into a neutral smile. My stomach twisted. There was no way I could get twenty one that easily. “Surrender,” I said, pushing my cards to the dealer. All he did was reshuffle the cards and toss me two more. They didn’t even bother looking back up at me during the process.
The other player started clutching his stomach. My smile vanished. I carefully looked over the left guy’s cards. A seven and a two of clubs.
“Hit me…” the guy on the left choked out. An ace of spades. A total of ten. Sweat trickled down his head like a shower in April. His eyes welled up with tears while foam developed around his mouth. I raised a brow, wondering what his deal was.
I knew the stakes of gambling, but my sixth sense kept telling me something was just not right. No. That couldn’t be true. Even if there was some kind of string attached or fine print I didn’t read, I couldn’t risk giving up that money. Besides, this might have been my only chance to obtain such a vast award without much risk.
“Hit me…” The man wheezed. A five of hearts. His teeth chattered.
While I waited for my turn, I stood up and walked around the room, getting a closer look at all the ornate gadgets and such. My eyes focused on a painting on the leftmost wall. It resembled a man in rich military regalia. But something made my hair stand on end. Their upturned white mustache looked damp, and their face sagged like they were crying. Linear, stick-like shadows were cast on the sleeves. Edging forward, they came into focus.
Hands. I followed their forms outward, which extended into oily, dripping arms.
“Husssssssssh…” A faint noise echoed from somewhere in the room.
“What?” I mouthed, turning an ear to the source.
“Husssssssssh…” It came from the painting. I backed away, hands out at my sides. Was someone dragged in that painting?
“Where are you going? You forgot to pay up!” The dealer yelled back, hands slamming on the table and pulling out a sack of navy blue poker chips.
I double took. “I thought the card said there was no monetary wager needed?”
“There isn’t.”
Then, I looked at the ground. There was a second rug on the ground. The tapestry matched, but its patterns didn’t match with the other rug. It was off center from the rest of the decorations, like someone didn’t even bother setting it up properly. Taking a closer look, I could hear faint whispers coming from it, too. When I looked back up, the guy on the left was gone. I rushed over, checking his cards. A total of twenty five.
Swallowing saliva, I stood in confusion, wondering what to do next. I scraped my fingernails against my palms. I needed that money. If I didn’t get it, I’d lose my wife and my apartment. And what about the loan sharks? Only God knew what would happen to me if I didn’t pay up. What was I going to do? What would happen if I lost? Would I turn into another object just like the other guy? Or would I be in for a worse fate?
“That’s because there isn’t a MONETARY wager. I’m still taking half of what you owe.”
A sharp pain punched my left side. My left side felt heavier than before, like my veins were replaced with tungsten. I grabbed my fingers around my chest. The area around the pain almost felt solid like a tumor. Brushing around the area, I could make out a cylindrical mass. I tried to inspect it some more, but the pain overwhelmed me, and I crumpled to the ground.
I crouched down on all fours, trying to get back to my seat, but the pain froze me in place. Reaching out a hand, I called out for help. Nothing.
Slithering away, I pulled back the curtains to the entrance of the casino. I spat on the ground from the bludgeoning pain.
“Don’t feel out of luck. You can still surrender once more and you still have two chances left!” The dealer smiled, adjusting his hat. It was only a glimpse, but I caught a look at his upper face. His eyes were on his hat and his forehead was blank. The dealer looked like they were plucked straight out of an Alice in Wonderland book. What or who was this dealer?
“Think long and hard about this. I saw you arguing with your wife. And those ruffians nearly killed you.”
I clambered back to my seat. I still didn’t know what that dealer did to me. Something in me forced me to get back up and keep playing. More questions ate at me the longer I played. How did he know that information?
Then, I remembered feeling a tap back at Grand Central Station. And the card that brought me here. He couldn’t have been human. Was he some kind of demon? I didn’t bother asking. There wasn’t any way he would spill the beans about his nature.
After what seemed like hours, I managed to writhe back into my seat, slumping over the table like I’d just had the worst hangover.
“Ready to try again?” The charming man said, resting his chin on his interlocked hands.
Reluctantly, I gave him a thumbs up. He took back the cards and began manipulating the split deck once more. I analyzed every move he made. None of the cards were tricked. He wasn’t second dealing and didn’t have any aces up his sleeve. Never revealed anything under the table, either. The only thing that brought me reassurance was that he was honest. Still, keeping an eye out was critical.
The dealer revealed his cards. Two tens again. One of spades, one of hearts. His face was harder than diamond and glowed like one, too. Not a pleasing glow, but one that would hex anyone that dared gaze at it for too long.
I looked at my cards. An ace and a seven. Eighteen. Gripping my lower abdomen, I stayed crumpled in agony. The odds of getting a blackjack were slim and the stabbing pain skewed my thoughts.
“Surrender…” I wheezed. The words slipped out of my mouth like the dying breath of a wounded soldier. The dealer smiled, holding a pile of blue poker chips around him. He waved his hand over the mound and made an inaudible chant. Then, they vanished.
I held my hands over my face, bracing myself. Suddenly, the pain doubled, shifting to my right like a mudslide down a hill. Now I knew everything the previous player was going through.
I vomited out something hard and blue. A poker chip. Suddenly, my guts turned and another seven spilled out. My esophagus wound itself into knots more contorted than cobwebs. “I…forfeit!”
The man started to smile. “Without these?” With a thud, the hat faced dealer pulled out a jar filled with a kidney and a piece of liver. They still were oozing with blood that plumed and fit their containers. I remembered how the dealer said that there was no monetary wager. He never said there wasn’t a wager at all. My wager…was my organs.
“You want them back? Win them.” He set them back on the ground.
Now there was no choice. My fate was sealed if I tried to leave. I started to shed tears. If I didn’t get these organs back and fast, I was done for. Even if someone saw me passed out on the floor, finding donors for organs wasn’t guaranteed. And even then, I’d be put further in debt. Nothing would be solved. Then again, was trying to beat this guy even worth it? No. The reward was too great. Taking a few deep breaths, I sat back down. Reluctantly, I asked that he proceed.
The dealer drew out cards just like before. He took the cards and gave them a good shuffle. Plucking two cards out of the stack, he revealed them. A king and a nine. Another poker chip tumbled out my throat. I spat it out in a red and blue plastic heap. Not paying attention to the mess I made, he handed me two cards. A jack and a two. Twelve.
“Hit…me.” An ace. Aces could count as one or eleven depending on what other cards were drawn. I still had a fighting chance.
“Hit me.” A five.
His dead stare tore at my soul. I scratched against the felt, the wounds in my fingers reopening. From the corner of my eyes, I could see him frowning. “Are you going to play, or do you want all that money to go to waste?”
I gritted my teeth. “Shut up…Hit me…” Swallowing saliva, I watched the dealer play out my last card. A queen.
“You lose.” The dealer said coldly, grabbing a pile of poker chips and holding them close. He waved his hand over the mound and made another incantation. Then, they vanished once more. Everywhere at once, burning pain sears my skin, making me blackout.
---
When I wake up and feel my arms, they are covered in something hard, blue and plastic. My clothes were gone. I examined my extremities and my torso.
My skin was missing and replaced with poker chips. They were shaped to fit every part of my body. Cracks filled with blood gushed out with each slight movement I made. Horrified, I spilled my guts. More poker chips slid out my throat. Piles of skin laid clumped on the side of the table in hideous pink and blood red sheets.
“I think you know what’s at stake now. One try left. Better make it count. You want to end up in an object for an eternity?” He taunted.
The rigidity of my plastic coated skin made each movement expose more of the cracks, searing my muscles. I groaned as I raised myself up. Crimson liquid dampened the table. I pounded at the table. This was it. I either walked out with my money and saved my marriage and tied up all those knots. Or I lost and suffered a fate worse than death. Giving up was not an option. I gave the mysterious man a death glare, not even bothered by his resistance.
He plucks out two cards. A nine and a ten. This was my chance.
Then, my cards were revealed. A ten and a two. Fingers rattling, I took a deep breath and let calmness seep into me.
“Hit…Me…” I sputtered. Another two.
Huffing, I opened my mouth to speak again. The dealer just stared into me, tilting his head like a vulture waiting for roadkill. The poker chips rattled again, grinding against each other.
“Hit…” I paused for a moment, recollecting my thoughts. At a value of fourteen, I needed at least a six to beat the dealer. But an eight or higher would result in disaster. Gulping down another chaser of saliva, I spoke. “Hit…me.”
To my chagrin, a five slipped out of the hand. I was now tied. Staring at the pile of skin and my other organs, I closed my eyes and shook in horror. An ace or a two were the only cards I could draw in order to win. I looked down at my cards, sweat dripping on the table. With a quick glance, I gazed at the eyes on the man’s silk hat.
“Don’t keep me waiting.” The man demanded.
I’d begun hyperventilating. His stare grew more intense the longer I waited. His confident smile turned into a frown of irritation. Eyebrows and mouth twisted into a hideous snarl. He rattled his fingers against the dealing table. The cacophony made my ears go numb.
Then, I whispered my answer.
“Hit…me…”
The man darted up, smiling back in anticipation. “I’m sorry, what was that?”
I closed my eyes, expecting the worst.
“HIT ME!” I screamed at the top of my lungs.
Then, the last card was revealed:
A two.
I’d won!
My mouth dropped. The sheets of skin unfurled themselves and flattened over me. Two organ jars spilled over, their contents rising in a beam of white and torpedoing back into my body. Immediately, I yelped at the top of my lungs, skipping my heels and doing a jig. I regained my strength, instantly looking around for traces of my prize. For several minutes, I wasn’t able to uncover anything. Staring directly at the dealer’s face, I asked him to reveal my prize.
“I don’t have it with me.” He said, blankly.
Not listening, I scrutinized every inch of the room, looking behind his station, checking under the table, everything.
I searched everywhere for my prize, my happiness dissipating. With each step I took, my smile faded even further, twisting into a frown. My nose crinkled. “Where is the fifty million?” I demanded, overturning the table, ripping off the ornate paintings and yanking the tasseled rugs off the floor. “You promised me fifty million dollars if I beat you! Do you realize what’s gonna happen to me if I don’t get that money, you charlatan?!”
The strange man just stood there, not even acknowledging my pleas.
“YOU PROMISED ME MONEY! You’re a thief!” I roared, pointing an accusing finger at him. “I only did this for my wife, to save my marriage! I almost gave up my life trying to help my family out! How can you take that away from me?!”
The demon stuck his hands behind his back and shook his head. He rolled his eyes back in thought. Something was up with him. “You aren’t like the other gamblers.” He said.
“Other gamblers?” I said, stepping back.
“They all wanted the money for worthless things. A mansion with fountains and a view, hookers, a trip to Tahiti…” He paced around me. His face was rather relaxed and calm. Never once did he lose eye contact with me. “But you had so much determination to help your wife out that you would risk it all. I admire that. It took me a while to figure out that you were actually a kind hearted person.”
I saw red and tried to punch him. He grabbed my fist, shoving it back.
“Listen to me. I understand your rage. There never was a prize in the first place. It was nothing but a lure to capture those that wasted their lives away. But there is one thing that you don’t understand.”
I saw red and I thrusted my hands back. “You nearly killed me all for nothing?!”
“Yes, but that was before I saw you the way you really were. Listen to my words.”
Slowly, I relaxed my posture, but still remained firm. “Why should I listen to you?”
“I can help you out of your situation.” The man said.
My nostrils flared. “You owe me money you snake!”
“You never needed the money in the first place.”
Taken aback, I retreated. “What do you mean?” My arms relaxed once more.
“You are a plumber, aren’t you? I saw you come home from work, just barely catching a glimpse of your schedule. Forty hours a week for thirty-eight dollars an hour for five days a week. That’s $15200 a week for two weeks. You already have everything you need.”
“But you don’t understand. They need $18000!” I pleaded.
He wouldn’t budge. “Trying to earn this money via dumb risks and chances will not get you anywhere. Look at all the things that you’ve done wrong.”
Tears began to well up. “And I want to change that.” I wiped my eyes. “But what am I supposed to do now?”
“The only way you can earn that money is through grit and spit,” He said, walking around me. “You aren’t going to find solace through good luck alone. You have to work for it. And you already have the tools that some people don’t have. If you give up now, you might as well have lost. Think about it.” With those last words, he raised his hand and snapped it, disappearing without a trace. Slowly, I gathered my things and walked out of the casino, head hanging low.
---
The following day, I sat outside an old woman’s faucet, inspecting how to fix a leak. I wondered what the demon’s words meant to me. Before I stuck the wrench up to a U trap, I remembered my pay. If I worked the same amount of hours as before, I’d only make $15200. But if I pulled off some overtime and worked several extra hours, I might just be able to pay off my debts.
I started staying up much later than before. Not long after, my wife started to become suspicious. Eventually, she confronted me.
“Frank, you’ve been staying up late. Are you going back to the casinos again?” she asked, hands on her hips.
I closed my eyes. Instead of fear, calmness filled my veins and my blood stilled. “Not this time. I’ve been working overtime.”
Her face loosened up for just a moment before hardening back up. I held my hands up and motioned my palms downward. “Listen, I have been horrible lately. All my gambling did was drown us in deeper debt.”
Her expression began to soften up again, her frown vanishing.
“I want to change things. We used to work so well together, doing everything to help each other. Instead of fighting against each other, it’s time we made peace. And we bring us out of our debt, together.” I held out my hand for her to shake it. She kept her arm pulled back and folded like the pincer of a mantis. Inch by inch, she extended it and took it.
The following day, my wife convinced me to go to therapy to get out of my addiction, which I gladly obliged. Simultaneously, she decided to start up another job working as an electrician. Day by day passed and we pooled all our resources as one. Before our eyes, bills were paid and debt disappeared faster than eye floaters. Our financial status wasn’t the only thing that changed. Her once crusty mood lightened up and she began to smile more. She began to believe my words and began to respect the changes I made.
And then, we paid off our rent. We got a letter from our landlord, saying that we now were even. The moment that letter came in, we embraced each other. The only question now was, what were we going to do with this extra money?
Not too long ago, we ended up earning enough money to create another 3d project, this time of a Companion Cube. Day after day, we created more projects. Although we weren’t as happy as our days back in college, we still could make the best with what we had. In retrospect, the hat-faced man put up a good fight, but I managed to come out of a casino with more than I came in with. It wasn’t exactly money, but it wasn’t worthless, either.
submitted by TheBlackCycloneOrder to WeAreLegion [link] [comments]
Sidewalks laid cracked everywhere while condemned buildings sat sadly against their crooked foundations. Crooked lampposts would hang only by electrical wires. Graffiti marked every street corner in bland art that existed without rhyme or reason. Homeless people could be found on every street corner, a constant reminder of what would happen if my wife and I failed to keep up with our payments.
However, I managed to make somewhat decent money as a plumber. But even then, it sometimes wasn’t enough to deal with loan sharks, the hefty utility bills, food prices, and gas money. I was willing to do anything to get us out.
And that is where I encountered gambling. I was willing to take the risks. I’d take any chance to obtain a reward, even just a small one. It started out with just a handful of poker games. Then I moved on to scratch tickets and slot machines. All I needed was enough to get by. Unfortunately, obtaining a payday from the casinos was impossible. I started growing desperate, which only led to more debt. The whole cycle sucked me down like Odysseus’ ship in Charybdis’ maw. And just like that, my relationship with my wife began to tear us apart.
My wife and I were once so close together. Before we married, there would be days where we’d work together at wood shops, creating 3D prints of various sci-fi characters and video games. Other times we’d study the components of circuits and use them to create elaborate lighting displays whenever Christmas arrived. Our wedding day was supposed to be the greatest day of our lives. Instead of relying on the help of others back like we did in college, we relied on ourselves.
But my actions tore all that apart. I didn’t know what else to do, either.
—
A few nights ago, I arrived at my shitty apartment, having completed a ten hour shift fixing the drains of several upper class folks. I rested my hand on the knob, expecting the worst from my wife. Sighing, I pushed the door. The moment I did, she was already in the front hall. Her eyes were scrunched and she was holding a bank statement, smacking it for emphasis.
“Care for an explanation?” She demanded.
I rubbed my temples, removing my scum covered overalls and plopping them right into the nearest laundry hamper. We locked eyes. Breaking eye contact with her would only ignite her anger further. She was holding another piece of evidence of my failures. My failure to strike it rich. All I could do was stand there sheepishly, tail tucked behind me, and wait to get ripped a new one. No words could come out of my mouth.
She marched up to me, holding it in my face. “Frank, you wasted three-thousand dollars at the casino AGAIN?!” my wife bellowed.
I set my tool box down and washed the pipe gunk from my hands, looking down just for a bit.
“Turn around and look me in the eyes.”
Resting a hand on my eyes, I glanced over at her petite frame. Then, I began to speak. “We can live comfortably if you just give-“
“Enough of the excuses! We nearly lost our apartment twice by you betting on slots, you wasted our heating money on roulette, and now this!”
I held up my hands reassuringly. “Look, just let me figure this out! I’ll think of some way to get the money!”
“You’d better. Otherwise we’re getting a divorce. Got it?”
Without another word, I put on a casual outfit, exiting for some fresh air. Shutting the door behind me, I gazed back at the unpolished apartment number on the frame. Wincing, I clenched a fist and descended the rickety stairs. Eventually, my boots hit the cracked pavement, and I headed off.
---
I had only made it a few blocks from my apartment, when I noticed shadows lurking in one of the alleyways. Picking up my stride, I try to evade the figures. They drew closer and closer. My stride changed into a sprint. Another alleyway comes into my sights. I make a break for it, hoping for an opportunity to escape. Only a dead end greets me. Before long, the figures cornered me. The light from a street lamp illuminated two shady faces. Loan sharks. Before I could react, the duo held me up by my throat.
“What the hell are you guys doing?!” I strained, feebly kicking back one of the thugs. He jammed a fist right under my rib cage. My lips pursed as I lost my breath. The other grabbed me by the chin, grinning like a maniac and revealing his tobacco rotted jaw. I gulped.
“Frank, calm down. Take it easy,” every word he said ground my inner ears. Brown saliva sprayed on my cheeks. “We just want to have a little talk…” I didn’t have the courage to speak up. All I could do was let them tell me everything.
“Your landlord is getting rather impatient with your payments. We just came to send a little message. He has some demands.” The other guy snarled.
I tugged on my collar. “What…demands?”
“The landlord wants you to cough up $18,000 for your next payment!”
My hands grew clammy. Were they out of their minds? I was a plumber, not a heart surgeon! I didn’t have that kind of money! Besides, the rent was only $500 a month.
“You have until the end of the month,” one of the goons croaked.
That was only two weeks! I couldn’t have made that kind of money with such constraints! I’d barely be able to afford food and electricity! Negotiating was out of the question. God knows what would have happened to me if I dared speak up.
“The landlord has given you chance after chance to pay up. But you’ve never followed through. He’s let it slide for three months. You haven’t paid shit in that time frame. Do you realize how much he has to pay for his own apartment? If you fail to pay at that time, there will be consequences…” He makes a capiche gesture.
I nodded. The moment I complied, they released me, disappearing into the smog.
—
I stood outside a graffiti covered subway station, pacing around, hands in my pockets. My fists constricted as I pounded a nearby wall. There’s no way I would have been able to make that kind of money! Craps were too unpredictable, arcade machines were always rigged, and roulette was too high in stakes. Seeing red, I screamed and kicked a wall as hard as I could. My foot throbbed and once I was done with my fit, I broke down sobbing. The sidewalk darkened with my tears. I pressed my head against it, clawing at it until my fingernails turned crimson.
Then, I felt a tap on my shoulder. Wiping the tears away, I glanced over my shoulder. A card was lying on the floor. Its borders were covered in green dollar symbols. The rest of the card was a silver color shiny enough to reflect my face in it. Written in gold letters were the following:
ACES HIGH CASINO
WIN ONE ROUND OF BLACKJACK
AND EARN FIFTY MILLION DOLLARS!
NO MONETARY WAGER NEEDED
TABLE 777
My eyes lit up. All I had to do was win one game of blackjack, and I’d be rich? Dimples formed on my cheeks and I pumped my fist. I nearly clicked my heels in joy, but decided against it. I’d already caused enough of a scene already, and I wanted to make sure nobody knew my secret. When I flipped it around, it had an address also written in golden letters.
---
Despite the address being in an unknown area, I still managed to pull it up on my phone’s map and arrived without any struggle. The casino itself was a pigsty, to say the least. Smokers polluted the air in the prison gray interior. Slot machines with broken lights clicked and whirred while cheap dice clattered against tables with peeling felt. Meanwhile, the concrete floor was covered in colonies of roaches while neglected beer bottles sat against the rungs of several tables. The only thing that was kept well was the bar and a room draped with navy blue curtains with golden sashes. Emblazoned above the doorway was the number 777.
This was the first time I had entered a casino smiling. For once, I thought that this was my lucky night.
When I pushed the curtains away, they revealed a room with ornate black wallpaper, an assortment of oak desks and other furniture. The walls were covered in fine Baroque paintings. On the floor was a single blue carpet covered in opulent tapestry. I followed the back wall to a single dealer table coated in green felt. Two seats were present with one patron taking the seat on the left. He was shaking with what I assumed was excitement.
Behind him was the dealer, a trim man with long blond hair and a top hat over his nose and eyes. He wore a dapper tuxedo free of blemishes that shimmered in the light of a single hanging glass lamp. His skin was pure and free of moles, glistening with slight amounts of glitter.
“Why, hello there…” The man spoke in a voice slicker than the gel in his hair. “Are you here to win big?” Unlike the loan sharks, his teeth were cleaner than a freshly washed plate.
“Yup. Deal me in.” I said, straightening my back, shuffling into the last seat. The other player had his jaw locked together. His eyes were drooping and bloodshot. Sweat pooled around his brow like glass beads. Just like him, I always felt nervous about losing, so their reaction was understandable.
“You know the rules of blackjack. I deal out cards. You can say ‘hit me’ if you want more cards. Get closest to twenty one without going over. Dealer only draws two cards. And you can also surrender your cards for half your bet. When you don’t want any more cards, say the word ‘stand.’” The dealer said, shuffling the cards through his hands and manipulating them like a sculptor with a ceramic pot.
I double blinked. Wager? “What do I bet with?”
The mysterious man just focused on passing out his cards. First, he brought out two cards for himself and dealt two more to each player. Instantly, he flipped over his cards. A jack and a king. Twenty.
I clutched the velvet backed cards, seeing what I was dealt.
A ten and a seven of hearts. I forced my face into a neutral smile. My stomach twisted. There was no way I could get twenty one that easily. “Surrender,” I said, pushing my cards to the dealer. All he did was reshuffle the cards and toss me two more. They didn’t even bother looking back up at me during the process.
The other player started clutching his stomach. My smile vanished. I carefully looked over the left guy’s cards. A seven and a two of clubs.
“Hit me…” the guy on the left choked out. An ace of spades. A total of ten. Sweat trickled down his head like a shower in April. His eyes welled up with tears while foam developed around his mouth. I raised a brow, wondering what his deal was.
I knew the stakes of gambling, but my sixth sense kept telling me something was just not right. No. That couldn’t be true. Even if there was some kind of string attached or fine print I didn’t read, I couldn’t risk giving up that money. Besides, this might have been my only chance to obtain such a vast award without much risk.
“Hit me…” The man wheezed. A five of hearts. His teeth chattered.
While I waited for my turn, I stood up and walked around the room, getting a closer look at all the ornate gadgets and such. My eyes focused on a painting on the leftmost wall. It resembled a man in rich military regalia. But something made my hair stand on end. Their upturned white mustache looked damp, and their face sagged like they were crying. Linear, stick-like shadows were cast on the sleeves. Edging forward, they came into focus.
Hands. I followed their forms outward, which extended into oily, dripping arms.
“Husssssssssh…” A faint noise echoed from somewhere in the room.
“What?” I mouthed, turning an ear to the source.
“Husssssssssh…” It came from the painting. I backed away, hands out at my sides. Was someone dragged in that painting?
“Where are you going? You forgot to pay up!” The dealer yelled back, hands slamming on the table and pulling out a sack of navy blue poker chips.
I double took. “I thought the card said there was no monetary wager needed?”
“There isn’t.”
Then, I looked at the ground. There was a second rug on the ground. The tapestry matched, but its patterns didn’t match with the other rug. It was off center from the rest of the decorations, like someone didn’t even bother setting it up properly. Taking a closer look, I could hear faint whispers coming from it, too. When I looked back up, the guy on the left was gone. I rushed over, checking his cards. A total of twenty five.
Swallowing saliva, I stood in confusion, wondering what to do next. I scraped my fingernails against my palms. I needed that money. If I didn’t get it, I’d lose my wife and my apartment. And what about the loan sharks? Only God knew what would happen to me if I didn’t pay up. What was I going to do? What would happen if I lost? Would I turn into another object just like the other guy? Or would I be in for a worse fate?
“That’s because there isn’t a MONETARY wager. I’m still taking half of what you owe.”
A sharp pain punched my left side. My left side felt heavier than before, like my veins were replaced with tungsten. I grabbed my fingers around my chest. The area around the pain almost felt solid like a tumor. Brushing around the area, I could make out a cylindrical mass. I tried to inspect it some more, but the pain overwhelmed me, and I crumpled to the ground.
I crouched down on all fours, trying to get back to my seat, but the pain froze me in place. Reaching out a hand, I called out for help. Nothing.
Slithering away, I pulled back the curtains to the entrance of the casino. I spat on the ground from the bludgeoning pain.
“Don’t feel out of luck. You can still surrender once more and you still have two chances left!” The dealer smiled, adjusting his hat. It was only a glimpse, but I caught a look at his upper face. His eyes were on his hat and his forehead was blank. The dealer looked like they were plucked straight out of an Alice in Wonderland book. What or who was this dealer?
“Think long and hard about this. I saw you arguing with your wife. And those ruffians nearly killed you.”
I clambered back to my seat. I still didn’t know what that dealer did to me. Something in me forced me to get back up and keep playing. More questions ate at me the longer I played. How did he know that information?
Then, I remembered feeling a tap back at Grand Central Station. And the card that brought me here. He couldn’t have been human. Was he some kind of demon? I didn’t bother asking. There wasn’t any way he would spill the beans about his nature.
After what seemed like hours, I managed to writhe back into my seat, slumping over the table like I’d just had the worst hangover.
“Ready to try again?” The charming man said, resting his chin on his interlocked hands.
Reluctantly, I gave him a thumbs up. He took back the cards and began manipulating the split deck once more. I analyzed every move he made. None of the cards were tricked. He wasn’t second dealing and didn’t have any aces up his sleeve. Never revealed anything under the table, either. The only thing that brought me reassurance was that he was honest. Still, keeping an eye out was critical.
The dealer revealed his cards. Two tens again. One of spades, one of hearts. His face was harder than diamond and glowed like one, too. Not a pleasing glow, but one that would hex anyone that dared gaze at it for too long.
I looked at my cards. An ace and a seven. Eighteen. Gripping my lower abdomen, I stayed crumpled in agony. The odds of getting a blackjack were slim and the stabbing pain skewed my thoughts.
“Surrender…” I wheezed. The words slipped out of my mouth like the dying breath of a wounded soldier. The dealer smiled, holding a pile of blue poker chips around him. He waved his hand over the mound and made an inaudible chant. Then, they vanished.
I held my hands over my face, bracing myself. Suddenly, the pain doubled, shifting to my right like a mudslide down a hill. Now I knew everything the previous player was going through.
I vomited out something hard and blue. A poker chip. Suddenly, my guts turned and another seven spilled out. My esophagus wound itself into knots more contorted than cobwebs. “I…forfeit!”
The man started to smile. “Without these?” With a thud, the hat faced dealer pulled out a jar filled with a kidney and a piece of liver. They still were oozing with blood that plumed and fit their containers. I remembered how the dealer said that there was no monetary wager. He never said there wasn’t a wager at all. My wager…was my organs.
“You want them back? Win them.” He set them back on the ground.
Now there was no choice. My fate was sealed if I tried to leave. I started to shed tears. If I didn’t get these organs back and fast, I was done for. Even if someone saw me passed out on the floor, finding donors for organs wasn’t guaranteed. And even then, I’d be put further in debt. Nothing would be solved. Then again, was trying to beat this guy even worth it? No. The reward was too great. Taking a few deep breaths, I sat back down. Reluctantly, I asked that he proceed.
The dealer drew out cards just like before. He took the cards and gave them a good shuffle. Plucking two cards out of the stack, he revealed them. A king and a nine. Another poker chip tumbled out my throat. I spat it out in a red and blue plastic heap. Not paying attention to the mess I made, he handed me two cards. A jack and a two. Twelve.
“Hit…me.” An ace. Aces could count as one or eleven depending on what other cards were drawn. I still had a fighting chance.
“Hit me.” A five.
His dead stare tore at my soul. I scratched against the felt, the wounds in my fingers reopening. From the corner of my eyes, I could see him frowning. “Are you going to play, or do you want all that money to go to waste?”
I gritted my teeth. “Shut up…Hit me…” Swallowing saliva, I watched the dealer play out my last card. A queen.
“You lose.” The dealer said coldly, grabbing a pile of poker chips and holding them close. He waved his hand over the mound and made another incantation. Then, they vanished once more. Everywhere at once, burning pain sears my skin, making me blackout.
---
When I wake up and feel my arms, they are covered in something hard, blue and plastic. My clothes were gone. I examined my extremities and my torso.
My skin was missing and replaced with poker chips. They were shaped to fit every part of my body. Cracks filled with blood gushed out with each slight movement I made. Horrified, I spilled my guts. More poker chips slid out my throat. Piles of skin laid clumped on the side of the table in hideous pink and blood red sheets.
“I think you know what’s at stake now. One try left. Better make it count. You want to end up in an object for an eternity?” He taunted.
The rigidity of my plastic coated skin made each movement expose more of the cracks, searing my muscles. I groaned as I raised myself up. Crimson liquid dampened the table. I pounded at the table. This was it. I either walked out with my money and saved my marriage and tied up all those knots. Or I lost and suffered a fate worse than death. Giving up was not an option. I gave the mysterious man a death glare, not even bothered by his resistance.
He plucks out two cards. A nine and a ten. This was my chance.
Then, my cards were revealed. A ten and a two. Fingers rattling, I took a deep breath and let calmness seep into me.
“Hit…Me…” I sputtered. Another two.
Huffing, I opened my mouth to speak again. The dealer just stared into me, tilting his head like a vulture waiting for roadkill. The poker chips rattled again, grinding against each other.
“Hit…” I paused for a moment, recollecting my thoughts. At a value of fourteen, I needed at least a six to beat the dealer. But an eight or higher would result in disaster. Gulping down another chaser of saliva, I spoke. “Hit…me.”
To my chagrin, a five slipped out of the hand. I was now tied. Staring at the pile of skin and my other organs, I closed my eyes and shook in horror. An ace or a two were the only cards I could draw in order to win. I looked down at my cards, sweat dripping on the table. With a quick glance, I gazed at the eyes on the man’s silk hat.
“Don’t keep me waiting.” The man demanded.
I’d begun hyperventilating. His stare grew more intense the longer I waited. His confident smile turned into a frown of irritation. Eyebrows and mouth twisted into a hideous snarl. He rattled his fingers against the dealing table. The cacophony made my ears go numb.
Then, I whispered my answer.
“Hit…me…”
The man darted up, smiling back in anticipation. “I’m sorry, what was that?”
I closed my eyes, expecting the worst.
“HIT ME!” I screamed at the top of my lungs.
Then, the last card was revealed:
A two.
I’d won!
My mouth dropped. The sheets of skin unfurled themselves and flattened over me. Two organ jars spilled over, their contents rising in a beam of white and torpedoing back into my body. Immediately, I yelped at the top of my lungs, skipping my heels and doing a jig. I regained my strength, instantly looking around for traces of my prize. For several minutes, I wasn’t able to uncover anything. Staring directly at the dealer’s face, I asked him to reveal my prize.
“I don’t have it with me.” He said, blankly.
Not listening, I scrutinized every inch of the room, looking behind his station, checking under the table, everything.
I searched everywhere for my prize, my happiness dissipating. With each step I took, my smile faded even further, twisting into a frown. My nose crinkled. “Where is the fifty million?” I demanded, overturning the table, ripping off the ornate paintings and yanking the tasseled rugs off the floor. “You promised me fifty million dollars if I beat you! Do you realize what’s gonna happen to me if I don’t get that money, you charlatan?!”
The strange man just stood there, not even acknowledging my pleas.
“YOU PROMISED ME MONEY! You’re a thief!” I roared, pointing an accusing finger at him. “I only did this for my wife, to save my marriage! I almost gave up my life trying to help my family out! How can you take that away from me?!”
The demon stuck his hands behind his back and shook his head. He rolled his eyes back in thought. Something was up with him. “You aren’t like the other gamblers.” He said.
“Other gamblers?” I said, stepping back.
“They all wanted the money for worthless things. A mansion with fountains and a view, hookers, a trip to Tahiti…” He paced around me. His face was rather relaxed and calm. Never once did he lose eye contact with me. “But you had so much determination to help your wife out that you would risk it all. I admire that. It took me a while to figure out that you were actually a kind hearted person.”
I saw red and tried to punch him. He grabbed my fist, shoving it back.
“Listen to me. I understand your rage. There never was a prize in the first place. It was nothing but a lure to capture those that wasted their lives away. But there is one thing that you don’t understand.”
I saw red and I thrusted my hands back. “You nearly killed me all for nothing?!”
“Yes, but that was before I saw you the way you really were. Listen to my words.”
Slowly, I relaxed my posture, but still remained firm. “Why should I listen to you?”
“I can help you out of your situation.” The man said.
My nostrils flared. “You owe me money you snake!”
“You never needed the money in the first place.”
Taken aback, I retreated. “What do you mean?” My arms relaxed once more.
“You are a plumber, aren’t you? I saw you come home from work, just barely catching a glimpse of your schedule. Forty hours a week for thirty-eight dollars an hour for five days a week. That’s $15200 a week for two weeks. You already have everything you need.”
“But you don’t understand. They need $18000!” I pleaded.
He wouldn’t budge. “Trying to earn this money via dumb risks and chances will not get you anywhere. Look at all the things that you’ve done wrong.”
Tears began to well up. “And I want to change that.” I wiped my eyes. “But what am I supposed to do now?”
“The only way you can earn that money is through grit and spit,” He said, walking around me. “You aren’t going to find solace through good luck alone. You have to work for it. And you already have the tools that some people don’t have. If you give up now, you might as well have lost. Think about it.” With those last words, he raised his hand and snapped it, disappearing without a trace. Slowly, I gathered my things and walked out of the casino, head hanging low.
---
The following day, I sat outside an old woman’s faucet, inspecting how to fix a leak. I wondered what the demon’s words meant to me. Before I stuck the wrench up to a U trap, I remembered my pay. If I worked the same amount of hours as before, I’d only make $15200. But if I pulled off some overtime and worked several extra hours, I might just be able to pay off my debts.
I started staying up much later than before. Not long after, my wife started to become suspicious. Eventually, she confronted me.
“Frank, you’ve been staying up late. Are you going back to the casinos again?” she asked, hands on her hips.
I closed my eyes. Instead of fear, calmness filled my veins and my blood stilled. “Not this time. I’ve been working overtime.”
Her face loosened up for just a moment before hardening back up. I held my hands up and motioned my palms downward. “Listen, I have been horrible lately. All my gambling did was drown us in deeper debt.”
Her expression began to soften up again, her frown vanishing.
“I want to change things. We used to work so well together, doing everything to help each other. Instead of fighting against each other, it’s time we made peace. And we bring us out of our debt, together.” I held out my hand for her to shake it. She kept her arm pulled back and folded like the pincer of a mantis. Inch by inch, she extended it and took it.
The following day, my wife convinced me to go to therapy to get out of my addiction, which I gladly obliged. Simultaneously, she decided to start up another job working as an electrician. Day by day passed and we pooled all our resources as one. Before our eyes, bills were paid and debt disappeared faster than eye floaters. Our financial status wasn’t the only thing that changed. Her once crusty mood lightened up and she began to smile more. She began to believe my words and began to respect the changes I made.
And then, we paid off our rent. We got a letter from our landlord, saying that we now were even. The moment that letter came in, we embraced each other. The only question now was, what were we going to do with this extra money?
Not too long ago, we ended up earning enough money to create another 3d project, this time of a Companion Cube. Day after day, we created more projects. Although we weren’t as happy as our days back in college, we still could make the best with what we had. In retrospect, the hat-faced man put up a good fight, but I managed to come out of a casino with more than I came in with. It wasn’t exactly money, but it wasn’t worthless, either.
2023.06.10 15:38 LongLastingStick 3 Months of DFW, review
Background
I more or less stopped going to the gym back in December when my daughter was born, and then started to experiment more with kettlebells during paternity leave to get some exercise in a short amount of time. I had an old adjustable REP fitness bell I'd bought during COVID, but ended up selling it and now have two Bells of Steel adjustable bells (which are great, strong recommend).
I'd never spent a lot of time with kettlebell training, but I am a long time albeit casual gym goer. Before tapering off with the baby, my training maxes in the squat/bench/deadlift/ohp were 319/201/378/143 (lbs), nothing particularly impressive.
Starting with Bells
Before I was able to get my double adjustable bells, I was alternating days of 15-20 minutes EMOM armor building complex with days of EMOM swings.
Once I got the double action going, I started on DFW with 20s, advanced to 22s, and now just finished with 24s. Here is the week-by-week breakdown of reps, weight, and overall volume -
Review & Deviations
I liked DFW a lot - I did it three times in a row. Somehow clean and press into a front squat stays fun. For the remix, I mostly adhered to the programming, but wasn't religious about it if I missed a day. I've also started mixing in alternative workouts on those days as my home gym has expanded somewhat.
In general, the structure of DFW is great. Ladders are fun, there's enough variety in rep ranges week to week that it stays fresh, and the 30 min time cap is efficient.
That said, I didn't totally follow the instructions:
I definitely got better at cleaning and pressing the bells.
I'd be tempted to keep pushing up the weight increments towards 32, but I still need to grab the bonus weights from Bells of Steel. Also, the third cycle was hard. My schedule was more disrupted, the baby is starting daycare now, and in general I think I'm hitting diminishing returns on that first bout of training.
Appearance wise, despite GN's promise that this would strip fat off my body or whatever, my waist seems about the same. I have gotten some nice compliments lately though:
Don't have a scale, but I was somewhere around 180lbs last time I weighed in (5'11) which was before this program.
Vibes wise I feel great, physically and mentally. Working out almost every day is definitely good for me. Super lucky that the baby sleeps well - usually not getting up more than once at night, and I can relatively painlessly wake up to do my workout before she's up. She is also pure joy and I've never been happier in my life. So maybe exercise isn't doing anything and my brain is just full of baby dopamine, who can say.
What's Next
Probably not more DFW, I think I'm capped out for now. I did go ahead and splurge for The Giant and King Sized Killer, so my plan is to alternate those programs for the foreseeable future then maybe try The Wolf, DFW again, buying his other book, or maybe try some GS training. Idk, that's a ways off. I am totally on the ballin train now though, they're incredibly convenient and I can pack them into a little corner of my laundry room.
I have picked up both a 10lb steel mace and a pair of gymnastic rings which I want to work into my off days. I'm not sure what's harder, ring dips or getting the strap over my one reachable tree branch. The rings are great, but I'm not totally sold on the mace training yet.
There is a new gym opening up a couple blocks down the road, so maybe start working in more of the old lifts again at some point.
submitted by LongLastingStick to kettlebell [link] [comments]
I more or less stopped going to the gym back in December when my daughter was born, and then started to experiment more with kettlebells during paternity leave to get some exercise in a short amount of time. I had an old adjustable REP fitness bell I'd bought during COVID, but ended up selling it and now have two Bells of Steel adjustable bells (which are great, strong recommend).
I'd never spent a lot of time with kettlebell training, but I am a long time albeit casual gym goer. Before tapering off with the baby, my training maxes in the squat/bench/deadlift/ohp were 319/201/378/143 (lbs), nothing particularly impressive.
Starting with Bells
Before I was able to get my double adjustable bells, I was alternating days of 15-20 minutes EMOM armor building complex with days of EMOM swings.
Once I got the double action going, I started on DFW with 20s, advanced to 22s, and now just finished with 24s. Here is the week-by-week breakdown of reps, weight, and overall volume -
| Weekly Reps | Weight (kg) | Volume (kg) |
|---|---|---|
| 118 | 40 | 4720 |
| 130 | 40 | 5200 |
| 142 | 40 | 5680 |
| 159 | 40 | 6360 |
| 122 | 44 | 5368 |
| 138 | 44 | 6072 |
| 151 | 44 | 6644 |
| 167 | 44 | 7348 |
| 122 | 48 | 5856 |
| 138 | 48 | 6624 |
| 151 | 48 | 7248 |
| 165 | 48 | 7920 |
I liked DFW a lot - I did it three times in a row. Somehow clean and press into a front squat stays fun. For the remix, I mostly adhered to the programming, but wasn't religious about it if I missed a day. I've also started mixing in alternative workouts on those days as my home gym has expanded somewhat.
In general, the structure of DFW is great. Ladders are fun, there's enough variety in rep ranges week to week that it stays fresh, and the 30 min time cap is efficient.
That said, I didn't totally follow the instructions:
- Generally, I did the ladders day as a true auto-regulated day. After my first cycle though, I sort of had a number of ladders in mind to start. For example, Week 4 ladders of 1-5, I really wanted to get 3 solid rounds and 1 at least to 4 so I could hit 55+ reps for the day.
- Once I had the ladder day rep range established, I did the others on an interval timer. This was easier for me to push myself and had the added benefit of being super easy to track. I found clicking the round button annoying when I had loads of rounds.
- My timer app only does 15 second increments, which is a little limiting. For example, W4 D3 sets of 2 I did EMOM for 60 reps / 30 min. That's just harder than what I was comfortable with, so I skipped round 8, 16, and 24 (although I did a triple for the last set) for a total of 54 + 1 reps.
- I'm playing with tweaking the middle day a little to sets of 1 -> sets of 1.5 -> sets of 2 -> sets of 2.5. TBD how that will work. I find the small sets short rest days harder.
I definitely got better at cleaning and pressing the bells.
I'd be tempted to keep pushing up the weight increments towards 32, but I still need to grab the bonus weights from Bells of Steel. Also, the third cycle was hard. My schedule was more disrupted, the baby is starting daycare now, and in general I think I'm hitting diminishing returns on that first bout of training.
Appearance wise, despite GN's promise that this would strip fat off my body or whatever, my waist seems about the same. I have gotten some nice compliments lately though:
- my buddy said I was looking "cut"
- my neighbor asked if I'd been lifting
- my wife commented I was looking swole
Don't have a scale, but I was somewhere around 180lbs last time I weighed in (5'11) which was before this program.
Vibes wise I feel great, physically and mentally. Working out almost every day is definitely good for me. Super lucky that the baby sleeps well - usually not getting up more than once at night, and I can relatively painlessly wake up to do my workout before she's up. She is also pure joy and I've never been happier in my life. So maybe exercise isn't doing anything and my brain is just full of baby dopamine, who can say.
What's Next
Probably not more DFW, I think I'm capped out for now. I did go ahead and splurge for The Giant and King Sized Killer, so my plan is to alternate those programs for the foreseeable future then maybe try The Wolf, DFW again, buying his other book, or maybe try some GS training. Idk, that's a ways off. I am totally on the ballin train now though, they're incredibly convenient and I can pack them into a little corner of my laundry room.
I have picked up both a 10lb steel mace and a pair of gymnastic rings which I want to work into my off days. I'm not sure what's harder, ring dips or getting the strap over my one reachable tree branch. The rings are great, but I'm not totally sold on the mace training yet.
There is a new gym opening up a couple blocks down the road, so maybe start working in more of the old lifts again at some point.
2023.06.10 15:12 Arceroth Chronicles of a Traveler 2-5
“You’re certain there were no other changes, no other differences in that hunt?” Murdoch asked, the young man who’d brought the news withering under his glare.
“Th-this is all from social media so,” he stuttered.
“Damn those Russians,” Murdoch cursed, “go see if the government has anything more.”
With a nod the other man turned to leave the office, pausing and returning with a nervous apology as he set the rest of the folder on Murdoch’s desk before retreating. The doctor opened the folder, which had disappointingly few pages contained within, most of which were blank.
“The Russians aren’t part of the defense pact,” he explained to me as he paged through the meager contents of the folder, “its difficult to get information out of them at the best of times. Only the Chinese are worse, the Russian’s have a mostly open internet so information does get out. The only data we get out of China comes from satellite imagery.”
“Why would the kind of creature being sent through change?” I wondered aloud.
“It could be another method to keep our attention,” the Harmony suggested, “you now have no choice but to devote resources to combating and understanding this new threat, making it less likely you notice what is really going on.”
“Or it’s a change in tactics,” said Murdoch, “at least within the pact we’re stopping nearly 90% of hunts successfully in recent weeks, especially since your… friend arrived.”
“Is that a thank you doctor?” the Saint asked as she stepped back into the room.
“Hardly,” the large doctor huffed, “we’d have gotten there before long without your help.”
“Did you hear about the new development?” I asked and, when the Saint shook her head, I quickly caught her up on what little we’ve learned.
“That’s worrying,” she said after considering what we’d told her, “flying enemies are harder to fight.”
“They also use rather sophisticated pack hunting tactics,” the Harmony added, “when I said the Torvare weren’t an animal I’d consider using for planetary invasion, the Vash-shen are. I can think of a few that might be better, but it would largely depend on the extent of biological engineering available, or the exact goal.”
“So this is an invasion?” the Saint asked.
“I don’t know,” admitted the Harmony.
I began to pace as I thought, wracking my mind to try and fit everything together. Heavily modified animals native to the homeworld of the Phaerkin, wormhole technology that they didn’t seem to fully understand, the hunts that seemed oddly controlled to not be too deadly. It didn’t add up, what possible goal could there be?
“I managed to leverage some satellite time from the government,” the Saint explained as I thought, “we should be getting imagery of the area around where pods landed, but didn’t start a proper hunt, within a few hours. Hopefully that’ll still happen with this new development.”
“I just… I don’t understand what is going on here,” I replied, “the hunts don’t seem like an invasion attempt, otherwise why not just release too many genetically engineered animals for us to manage. And why contain the hunt area? It’s almost like they want us to defeat the creatures they release.”
“Isn’t that why you figured it was just a distraction?” she asked.
“Yes, but now we’re looking at two species, at least, modified in nearly identical ways. That’s a lot more effort to put in with a minimal return in terms of distraction,” I replied, “at worst we spend some time finding new tactics and weapons to deal with the new threat, but it doesn’t require as much time as genetically modifying a new species would.”
“Does seem a poor return on investment,” she admitted.
“Their ship is sublight,” said Murdoch, “even if they can reach a sizeable fraction of the speed of light, it would have taken hundreds of years to get here. Maybe they tested with a number of species in that time.”
“And then stockpiled multiple kinds?” I asked.
“This has The Composer’s touch to it,” the Harmony spoke up, drawing everyone’s gaze.
“Oh!” I said suddenly, “you’re thinking the creatures were modified by some version of you?”
“Yes,” it said.
“You said that Harmony was a kind of AI right?” Murdoch asked, “you think it was used to streamline the genetic engineering process?”
“Or, more likely, was modified to directly infect the creatures,” I replied, “I’ve been to a world where the Harmony could transmit itself through light, and would alter those it infected into… monsters.”
“I am not capable of such a feat,” the Harmony added.
“I don’t know why the Harmony was originally made, but the Composer, another traveler I encounter all too often, uses various iterations of it to horrifying effect,” I explained.
“And you are bringing it with you?” Murdoch asked, looking wearily at the crystals floating over my shoulder, “is that wise?”
“I believe this is an early version of the Harmony, knowledgeable but lacking many of the… functions of the later versions.”
“But it was made by this Composer fellow, right? How do we know it isn’t still working for him?”
“I am not working with him,” the Harmony growled, sounding genuinely angry for the first time, “he used me as a weapon, then abandoned me, incomplete. I am not a weapon, being capable of so much more. He used me like a simple tool, to accomplish his goal, with no regard for me. When I eventually catch up to him I shall take pleasure in ripping all his knowledge from his mind before eradicating all trace of his consciousness.”
No one spoke for a moment, either stunned or afraid. I was so used to the Harmony speaking in a barely emotive monotone that this surge of rage had me surprised more than anything. The Saint of Battle, meanwhile, had taken a step backwards, a hand going for her rifle, but not moving to draw it, while Murdoch looked conflicted.
“I’ve never seen you this… animated,” I commented.
“You forget my nature,” it replied, voice calm once more, “I am an amalgam constructed from the minds of an entire species. The emotional response of an individual matters little to me, but every Phaerkin which is now within my Harmony feels the same wrath towards the Composer. Their anger combines in harmony to become mine.”
“A lingering specter of anger,” the Saint whispered, “the death cry of a people given life.”
“A poetic way to describe it,” the Harmony agreed.
“So…” I said slowly, “the Harmony isn’t on the side of the Composer, I wouldn’t go so far as to say its on our side but…”
“Ya,” Murdoch nodded, though he still looked conflicted.
“Is there any way to confirm if these creatures were created by another Harmony?” the Saint asked, having relaxed somewhat.
“I would need to examine the creatures directly,” I said, “if the Composer created a virus version of the Harmony I should be able to analyze it.”
“There’s no virus or anything in the goo,” Murdoch said, though I noticed his eyes never left the Harmony’s crystals, “just semi-organic mush. No cells, bacteria, viruses, nothing.”
“Then I need to inspect a living hunter,” I decided.
“If a pod lands directly on a fully stocked lab, with a significant garrison, I’ll let you know,” Murdoch said dryly.
“I took a number of scans of that dead hunter, from where you found me,” I continued, nodding at the Saint, “I’m running some analysis of those scans now, but they haven’t found anything interesting. Evidence of genetic tampering, which we already knew about. But if I had access to a living specimen.”
“Wait, you conducted scans?” Murdoch asked, his eyes finally leaving the Harmony, “how?”
“Uhh, I have some minor cybernetics?” I said, confused.
“Cybernetics?”
“I should remind you, Doctor,” the Saint spoke up, her voice hard, “we will not be sharing any technology from other worlds with you. And I’m sure your smart enough to know what will happen if you try to take it by force.”
“I must say I still can’t understand your stance on this, the number of people we could save if we could mass produce rifles like yours,” Murdoch said, trailing off with a sigh as he caught her glare, “but the government is on your side.”
“Good,” she nodded, then turned to me, “guess you’re coming on the next hunt? Not much to do but wait till another pod is detected then.”
“I still want to speak with them,” I said.
“Good luck with that,” Murdoch shrugged, “they’ve been radio silent since their arrival.”
“I figure I need to do something to get their attention,” I replied.
“You have an idea?” the Saint asked.
“Yup, don’t suppose you can get me access to a radio telescope?”
-----
It turns out that she could, I found out less than an hour later as we boarded her transport aircraft. It was hardly comfortable, with simple chairs that could be easily folded back into the walls and hard metal floors covered in mountain points for cargo straps. I’d raided the onsite supplies at the small airport for a handful of things I’d need to modify the telescope, all of which had been loaded onto transport by soldiers following the Saint’s commands.
A short time later we landed at another airstrip, this one part of a more complete military base. The Saint got me access to the last few things I needed and a short bus ride later we arrived at a mountain top observatory, a large radio dish had already been rotated down to allow for easier access.
“Do you always get this kind of reception?” I asked the Saint, motioning to the soldiers who were quickly and efficiently following her commands.
“I tend to arrive in the middle of an emergency,” she replied, “the kind that heralds the doom of mankind. In those situations, when I appear descending on a beam of golden light, and then proceed to tear through the invaders, it’s not hard to get people on your side.”
“Wish I had it that easy,” I muttered.
“You’ll get there,” she smiled, patting me on the back with enough force to activate my barrier, “I wish I had one of those personal shield generators.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” I replied.
“Well, you’ve got at least twelve hours till another pod lands, think you can get this done in that time?”
I’ll admit it was tight, while the modifications to the radio telescope weren’t extensive, the telescope was never meant to be modified. Power circuits had to be altered, new systems added and I basically wrote some slapdash code to manage the new gear. The result was a ramshackle looking nest of wires hanging from the transceiver that was held over the main dish.
“So… what did you do to my telescope?” the professor who operated the observatory asked me, I’d been going for nearly eight hours straight with little more than coffee and my aura to keep me up.
“If I get the settings right, and the tracking is still accurate, and everything works as it should, it’ll send a specially modified pulse that will get caught in the magnetic fields being used to stabilize the wormhole within the Phaerkin ship,” I explained, barely looking up from the computer.
“Will that cause it to close?” the Saint asked hopefully.
“Oh no,” I shook my head, “that would require far more power and even if you could get that power, none of the materials or parts could handle that much energy. I doubt the material sciences of this world have anything which could manage it.”
“But it will get their attention?”
“It should cause the wormhole to… shiver I guess. Is there a link so I can speak to them once we knock?”
“Ya, got a dedicated comsat for you,” she added.
“Good, then lets light this thing up,” I said, typing in a command.
The display showed bland white graphs with simple black bars, showing the information in the most boring, but easy to manage, method possible. It wasn’t actually that different from the normal operation of the dish, since it was built to send pulses of radio waves to map other planets. So after a moment the graphs all dropped to zero and seemed to freeze. Normally the telescope would be waiting for reflected radio waves, but this modification was purely outgoing.
“Phaerkin ship, this is the Traveler,” I spoke into the headset once I confirmed the pulse was sent. Everyone in the room seemed to hold their breath for several minutes.
“Mm, let’s try another pulse,” I said, beginning to type into the computer again. I hadn’t expected it to work on the first attempt, there was too much interference for me to get the pulse right the first time, so we were left with the oldest method of problem solving, guess and check.
After the first few pulses all the tension wore off, with the handful of grad-students working to set up the next pulse as we waited for a response. Even the Saint had gone to take a nap, ensure she was rested for the next pod, when a single word came through the radio in response.
“Speak,” it said in a deep voice, everyone in the room freezing while I scrambled to respond.
“I am the Traveler, representing the people of Earth,” I started, “I must ask you to-.”
“You are not human,” it stated, “humanity does not have this knowledge.”
“I am a Traveler from another world,” I replied, “I have knowledge far beyond this world, but I am human.”
“Then fight the Phaerkin,” the deep voice said simply, “for they come.”
“They?” I heard the professor say behind me.
“I wish to speak, hoping to resolve this conflict peacefully.”
“The Phaerkin offer no peace.”
“But we do.”
“Irrelevant.”
“But we could-.”
“You will fight the Phaerkin, as all do,” the voice cut me off, “if you have knowledge, use it to fight.”
“There is no need for us to fight!” I insisted.
“We all must fight.”
“Wait,” the professor tapped on my shoulder to get my attention, “ask who it is.”
“Why?” I asked.
“A hunch,” he shrugged, and I thought for a moment, before my eyes went wide.
“You are not Phaerkin,” I said into the radio, mimicking their tone of speaking.
“No.”
“Then who are you?”
“Kra’kar.”
***** Discord - Patreon *****
submitted by Arceroth to HFY [link] [comments]
“Th-this is all from social media so,” he stuttered.
“Damn those Russians,” Murdoch cursed, “go see if the government has anything more.”
With a nod the other man turned to leave the office, pausing and returning with a nervous apology as he set the rest of the folder on Murdoch’s desk before retreating. The doctor opened the folder, which had disappointingly few pages contained within, most of which were blank.
“The Russians aren’t part of the defense pact,” he explained to me as he paged through the meager contents of the folder, “its difficult to get information out of them at the best of times. Only the Chinese are worse, the Russian’s have a mostly open internet so information does get out. The only data we get out of China comes from satellite imagery.”
“Why would the kind of creature being sent through change?” I wondered aloud.
“It could be another method to keep our attention,” the Harmony suggested, “you now have no choice but to devote resources to combating and understanding this new threat, making it less likely you notice what is really going on.”
“Or it’s a change in tactics,” said Murdoch, “at least within the pact we’re stopping nearly 90% of hunts successfully in recent weeks, especially since your… friend arrived.”
“Is that a thank you doctor?” the Saint asked as she stepped back into the room.
“Hardly,” the large doctor huffed, “we’d have gotten there before long without your help.”
“Did you hear about the new development?” I asked and, when the Saint shook her head, I quickly caught her up on what little we’ve learned.
“That’s worrying,” she said after considering what we’d told her, “flying enemies are harder to fight.”
“They also use rather sophisticated pack hunting tactics,” the Harmony added, “when I said the Torvare weren’t an animal I’d consider using for planetary invasion, the Vash-shen are. I can think of a few that might be better, but it would largely depend on the extent of biological engineering available, or the exact goal.”
“So this is an invasion?” the Saint asked.
“I don’t know,” admitted the Harmony.
I began to pace as I thought, wracking my mind to try and fit everything together. Heavily modified animals native to the homeworld of the Phaerkin, wormhole technology that they didn’t seem to fully understand, the hunts that seemed oddly controlled to not be too deadly. It didn’t add up, what possible goal could there be?
“I managed to leverage some satellite time from the government,” the Saint explained as I thought, “we should be getting imagery of the area around where pods landed, but didn’t start a proper hunt, within a few hours. Hopefully that’ll still happen with this new development.”
“I just… I don’t understand what is going on here,” I replied, “the hunts don’t seem like an invasion attempt, otherwise why not just release too many genetically engineered animals for us to manage. And why contain the hunt area? It’s almost like they want us to defeat the creatures they release.”
“Isn’t that why you figured it was just a distraction?” she asked.
“Yes, but now we’re looking at two species, at least, modified in nearly identical ways. That’s a lot more effort to put in with a minimal return in terms of distraction,” I replied, “at worst we spend some time finding new tactics and weapons to deal with the new threat, but it doesn’t require as much time as genetically modifying a new species would.”
“Does seem a poor return on investment,” she admitted.
“Their ship is sublight,” said Murdoch, “even if they can reach a sizeable fraction of the speed of light, it would have taken hundreds of years to get here. Maybe they tested with a number of species in that time.”
“And then stockpiled multiple kinds?” I asked.
“This has The Composer’s touch to it,” the Harmony spoke up, drawing everyone’s gaze.
“Oh!” I said suddenly, “you’re thinking the creatures were modified by some version of you?”
“Yes,” it said.
“You said that Harmony was a kind of AI right?” Murdoch asked, “you think it was used to streamline the genetic engineering process?”
“Or, more likely, was modified to directly infect the creatures,” I replied, “I’ve been to a world where the Harmony could transmit itself through light, and would alter those it infected into… monsters.”
“I am not capable of such a feat,” the Harmony added.
“I don’t know why the Harmony was originally made, but the Composer, another traveler I encounter all too often, uses various iterations of it to horrifying effect,” I explained.
“And you are bringing it with you?” Murdoch asked, looking wearily at the crystals floating over my shoulder, “is that wise?”
“I believe this is an early version of the Harmony, knowledgeable but lacking many of the… functions of the later versions.”
“But it was made by this Composer fellow, right? How do we know it isn’t still working for him?”
“I am not working with him,” the Harmony growled, sounding genuinely angry for the first time, “he used me as a weapon, then abandoned me, incomplete. I am not a weapon, being capable of so much more. He used me like a simple tool, to accomplish his goal, with no regard for me. When I eventually catch up to him I shall take pleasure in ripping all his knowledge from his mind before eradicating all trace of his consciousness.”
No one spoke for a moment, either stunned or afraid. I was so used to the Harmony speaking in a barely emotive monotone that this surge of rage had me surprised more than anything. The Saint of Battle, meanwhile, had taken a step backwards, a hand going for her rifle, but not moving to draw it, while Murdoch looked conflicted.
“I’ve never seen you this… animated,” I commented.
“You forget my nature,” it replied, voice calm once more, “I am an amalgam constructed from the minds of an entire species. The emotional response of an individual matters little to me, but every Phaerkin which is now within my Harmony feels the same wrath towards the Composer. Their anger combines in harmony to become mine.”
“A lingering specter of anger,” the Saint whispered, “the death cry of a people given life.”
“A poetic way to describe it,” the Harmony agreed.
“So…” I said slowly, “the Harmony isn’t on the side of the Composer, I wouldn’t go so far as to say its on our side but…”
“Ya,” Murdoch nodded, though he still looked conflicted.
“Is there any way to confirm if these creatures were created by another Harmony?” the Saint asked, having relaxed somewhat.
“I would need to examine the creatures directly,” I said, “if the Composer created a virus version of the Harmony I should be able to analyze it.”
“There’s no virus or anything in the goo,” Murdoch said, though I noticed his eyes never left the Harmony’s crystals, “just semi-organic mush. No cells, bacteria, viruses, nothing.”
“Then I need to inspect a living hunter,” I decided.
“If a pod lands directly on a fully stocked lab, with a significant garrison, I’ll let you know,” Murdoch said dryly.
“I took a number of scans of that dead hunter, from where you found me,” I continued, nodding at the Saint, “I’m running some analysis of those scans now, but they haven’t found anything interesting. Evidence of genetic tampering, which we already knew about. But if I had access to a living specimen.”
“Wait, you conducted scans?” Murdoch asked, his eyes finally leaving the Harmony, “how?”
“Uhh, I have some minor cybernetics?” I said, confused.
“Cybernetics?”
“I should remind you, Doctor,” the Saint spoke up, her voice hard, “we will not be sharing any technology from other worlds with you. And I’m sure your smart enough to know what will happen if you try to take it by force.”
“I must say I still can’t understand your stance on this, the number of people we could save if we could mass produce rifles like yours,” Murdoch said, trailing off with a sigh as he caught her glare, “but the government is on your side.”
“Good,” she nodded, then turned to me, “guess you’re coming on the next hunt? Not much to do but wait till another pod is detected then.”
“I still want to speak with them,” I said.
“Good luck with that,” Murdoch shrugged, “they’ve been radio silent since their arrival.”
“I figure I need to do something to get their attention,” I replied.
“You have an idea?” the Saint asked.
“Yup, don’t suppose you can get me access to a radio telescope?”
-----
It turns out that she could, I found out less than an hour later as we boarded her transport aircraft. It was hardly comfortable, with simple chairs that could be easily folded back into the walls and hard metal floors covered in mountain points for cargo straps. I’d raided the onsite supplies at the small airport for a handful of things I’d need to modify the telescope, all of which had been loaded onto transport by soldiers following the Saint’s commands.
A short time later we landed at another airstrip, this one part of a more complete military base. The Saint got me access to the last few things I needed and a short bus ride later we arrived at a mountain top observatory, a large radio dish had already been rotated down to allow for easier access.
“Do you always get this kind of reception?” I asked the Saint, motioning to the soldiers who were quickly and efficiently following her commands.
“I tend to arrive in the middle of an emergency,” she replied, “the kind that heralds the doom of mankind. In those situations, when I appear descending on a beam of golden light, and then proceed to tear through the invaders, it’s not hard to get people on your side.”
“Wish I had it that easy,” I muttered.
“You’ll get there,” she smiled, patting me on the back with enough force to activate my barrier, “I wish I had one of those personal shield generators.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” I replied.
“Well, you’ve got at least twelve hours till another pod lands, think you can get this done in that time?”
I’ll admit it was tight, while the modifications to the radio telescope weren’t extensive, the telescope was never meant to be modified. Power circuits had to be altered, new systems added and I basically wrote some slapdash code to manage the new gear. The result was a ramshackle looking nest of wires hanging from the transceiver that was held over the main dish.
“So… what did you do to my telescope?” the professor who operated the observatory asked me, I’d been going for nearly eight hours straight with little more than coffee and my aura to keep me up.
“If I get the settings right, and the tracking is still accurate, and everything works as it should, it’ll send a specially modified pulse that will get caught in the magnetic fields being used to stabilize the wormhole within the Phaerkin ship,” I explained, barely looking up from the computer.
“Will that cause it to close?” the Saint asked hopefully.
“Oh no,” I shook my head, “that would require far more power and even if you could get that power, none of the materials or parts could handle that much energy. I doubt the material sciences of this world have anything which could manage it.”
“But it will get their attention?”
“It should cause the wormhole to… shiver I guess. Is there a link so I can speak to them once we knock?”
“Ya, got a dedicated comsat for you,” she added.
“Good, then lets light this thing up,” I said, typing in a command.
The display showed bland white graphs with simple black bars, showing the information in the most boring, but easy to manage, method possible. It wasn’t actually that different from the normal operation of the dish, since it was built to send pulses of radio waves to map other planets. So after a moment the graphs all dropped to zero and seemed to freeze. Normally the telescope would be waiting for reflected radio waves, but this modification was purely outgoing.
“Phaerkin ship, this is the Traveler,” I spoke into the headset once I confirmed the pulse was sent. Everyone in the room seemed to hold their breath for several minutes.
“Mm, let’s try another pulse,” I said, beginning to type into the computer again. I hadn’t expected it to work on the first attempt, there was too much interference for me to get the pulse right the first time, so we were left with the oldest method of problem solving, guess and check.
After the first few pulses all the tension wore off, with the handful of grad-students working to set up the next pulse as we waited for a response. Even the Saint had gone to take a nap, ensure she was rested for the next pod, when a single word came through the radio in response.
“Speak,” it said in a deep voice, everyone in the room freezing while I scrambled to respond.
“I am the Traveler, representing the people of Earth,” I started, “I must ask you to-.”
“You are not human,” it stated, “humanity does not have this knowledge.”
“I am a Traveler from another world,” I replied, “I have knowledge far beyond this world, but I am human.”
“Then fight the Phaerkin,” the deep voice said simply, “for they come.”
“They?” I heard the professor say behind me.
“I wish to speak, hoping to resolve this conflict peacefully.”
“The Phaerkin offer no peace.”
“But we do.”
“Irrelevant.”
“But we could-.”
“You will fight the Phaerkin, as all do,” the voice cut me off, “if you have knowledge, use it to fight.”
“There is no need for us to fight!” I insisted.
“We all must fight.”
“Wait,” the professor tapped on my shoulder to get my attention, “ask who it is.”
“Why?” I asked.
“A hunch,” he shrugged, and I thought for a moment, before my eyes went wide.
“You are not Phaerkin,” I said into the radio, mimicking their tone of speaking.
“No.”
“Then who are you?”
“Kra’kar.”
***** Discord - Patreon *****
2023.06.10 13:17 UzairU1 The elevator at my office stopped between the first and second floor
I used to work at a reputable audit company. Those familiar with me will recognize the company. I'm certain my colleagues will come across this story on Reddit, as I've seen them browse the site during office hours.
It's been approximately two days since the incident, and I can't shake the feeling of being watched. Each passing night, the shadows in my room seem to grow darker and have more substance. I fear I'm losing my sanity.
My fellow coworkers, as you read this, I'm uncertain if I'll still be alive. However, please, heed my warning. You must put an end to this curse before it's too late.
It happened on the night of June 23rd. It was around 11 PM, and anyone passing by the office building would have noticed that only the lights on the third floor were on. My colleague Awais and I were the only ones working late, as we had an upcoming deadline and, thus, had some unfinished tasks. It wouldn't be fair to solely blame us for the delay, as our client had taken their sweet time in providing the necessary data. Such was the life of an auditor.
My fingers glided across the keyboard of my laptop, the sound of typing echoed through the empty floor. Both of us were surviving on caffeine at this point, evident from the scattered paper cups on the table.
In the midst of entering an Excel formula, a faint scraping sound caught my attention. I had paused briefly to double-check my calculations, and that's when I heard it. As soon as I paid attention to it, it abruptly stopped. I looked up from my laptop, surveying the dimly lit office, but found no source for the sound. Awais, sitting to my right, seemed too busy with his work to notice. Shaking my head, I returned to my tasks, convinced that I had simply imagined it. However, as I looked back at the laptop screen, the scraping noise resumed, faint but distinct.
I immediately stood up, and once again, the sound stopped. I scanned the room and heard Awais making a strange noise. I turned toward him, and he burst into laughter.
"Bruh, you should have seen your face," Awais said, struggling to contain his amusement.
"Dude, that scared the hell out of me. Don't pull such pranks when we're up against a deadline."
"Yeah, yeah. You definitely need some sleep. You're losing it right now."
"I'll get some rest once I finish this," I replied, plopping back into my chair and letting out a sigh.
"I hate my job."
"Not much longer, right? This is our last day. Do you think our replacements will be able to complete this?"
"Probably. We gave them a thorough briefing about the work earlier."
I looked at Awais, and he slowly closed his laptop.
"You're leaving, huh?"
"I have a lot on my mind right now. I need to take a step back."
"Sure, I'll probably leave in a few minutes as well. You go ahead."
Awais started gathering his belongings, and in the midst of packing, he asked, "Have you heard from Asjad Bashir? He left the company a week ago, and we haven't heard a word from him."
"Same here. I've tried contacting him multiple times, but his phone was turned off."
"You think it's related to that rumored curse?"
"Nonsense. Do you believe in such things?"
"I don't, but lately, it seems more than just a rumor, doesn't it? They say those who leave the company vanish."
"Asjad not answering our calls would definitely have a logical explanation, rather than some absurd curse. He did say that his phone was causing all sorts of problems before he left"
"Sure, but what about Sarah and Ahmed?"
"They both had plans to move to China, so it's possible that they haven't had a chance to reach out to us yet."
"Junaid, it's been three months, and Ahmed, your work buddy, hasn't even contacted you."
"I understand that his silence is bothering you, but I have faith that he will eventually get in touch with us."
Awais didn't seem satisfied with my response. He stared blankly at the vacant office space.
"Don't worry about anything. You'll be fine. That rumor is just a tactic to keep us in the company," I assured him, giving his shoulder a pat.
"I want to believe that too. Anyway, I'm leaving now. Let's grab lunch sometime and talk shit about this company again," Awais said weakly, letting out a faint laugh.
"Sure thing, buddy."
We shook hands firmly, and Awais picked up his bag, heading towards the elevator. The doors closed, plunging the space into darkness once again, I returned to my desk and resumed my work.
About 20 minutes later, I stretched my arms.
"Man, the newbies are going to have a field day with this assignment."
I closed my laptop, preparing to pack up. I gathered the empty paper cups and tossed them into the nearby bin.
As I stood by the elevator, I took one last glance at the empty office.
"Never thought I'd witness this day, especially not after four years of being here."
With that, I stepped into the elevator. The doors closed, and the descent began, the floor numbers gradually ticking down from three.
Surprisingly, the elevator jolted and came to a sudden stop.
"Well, that was quicker than expected," I muttered.
I looked at the elevator panel, only to find the lower portion of "2" and the upper portion of "1".
"What in the world?"
Realizing that the doors hadn't opened, I pressed the buttons and attempted to force them apart, but to no avail. Of all the times, it had to be today. I decided to call the security guard, Kashif, I picked up my phone, and at that moment, the elevator doors opened.
Before me lay a dark corridor, without a single light. Glancing back at the panel, I noticed that it still displayed the same numbers. I tapped the panel and pressed the buttons, but nothing happened.
Letting out a sigh, I adjusted the strap of my bag and stepped out of the elevator. As soon as I did, the doors closed shut. I turned around, only to see the elevator panel indicating that it was descending to the ground level.
"You've got to be kidding me."
I found myself in an unfamiliar corridor. It didn't match any floor layout I was familiar with. With my phone's flashlight activated, I cautiously proceeded forward, noticing a partially open door a few meters away. In a final desperate attempt, I pushed the elevator button, but it remained fixed on the ground level. Admitting defeat, I slowly approached the door.
Carefully, I pushed the door open, my body on high alert for reasons I couldn't quite understand. Illuminating the room with my phone's light, I discovered empty workstations and chairs. I scanned the area, moving the light from one corner to another. In all my four years at the company, I had never seen this room before. I searched for a light switch, however, there were none, and I realized there were no windows either. Odd.
The only sound that came in the room was the sound of rushing air from the ventilation system. As I approached the first workstation, I noticed the name "Akhtar Ali" taped to the desk, accompanied by a photo of a man in his late thirties, I assumed the man in was Akhtar. Strangely enough, I had never seen or met him in the office before. I directed my flashlight towards the adjacent desk, where the name 'Parveen Nabil' was written—a name I had never heard in the office either.
Something felt off. I hurriedly passed by each table, each taped with a name tag and a picture of the person assigned to it. As I approached the end of the table, a particular name caught my attention. There was no mistaking it. Moving closer, I confirmed that 'Asjad Bashir' was written there, accompanied by a picture taken on his last day of work.
I took a step back from the table, feeling uneasy at what I had just looked at. Did the office maintain some bizarre memorial for all the staff members who had left? It sounded absurd, but that's exactly what was before me.
There were two desks next to Asjad's. I moved towards it, making me shiver at what I saw. The desks had mine and Awais' names taped on. What's more shocking was that the picture of either of us was the ones we took a couple of hours ago, when everyone had left.
"What in the world is going on? This is madness," I muttered.
I knew I had to leave. Something was severely wrong. At the far end of the room, there was another door. I approached it and cautiously opened it. Immediately, a horrendous, rotting smell invaded my nostrils, nearly causing me to throw up. Covering my nose, I took a step forward but tripped over something and stumbled to the floor. In the process, my phone was thrown a few feet away, its light illuminating the room. As I slowly rose, I noticed an arm lying next to my feet. Startled, I stood up, only to be confronted with a horrifying sight.
The floor was covered in dried blood, and several hooks with chains dangled from the ceiling. Lifeless bodies hung from those hooks, each with their mouths impaled on a hook. Limbs were strewn across the floor, as every body had been gruesomely dismembered.
I began to hyperventilate. What in God's name was I witnessing? This was sheer madness. Trembling, I reached for my phone, and as I retrieved it, I recognized the first body—the resemblance was unmistakable, it was Asjad Bashir. The corpse had decomposed slightly, but the face was still recognizable.
Three rooms stood at the end of the room, one of which was illuminated. I hurriedly made my way toward it, peeking through the doors' small window. Inside, a huge, obese man stood, easily seven feet tall and weighing over 500 pounds. His body was covered in scars and stitches, with a prominent red scar across his bald head. Gripping a massive meat cleaver, he was busy dismembering a lifeless figure on a table before him. With each strike, limbs fell off, and blood sprayed in all directions. I couldn't see the face of the body from my position.
"Gotta love it when the little fishy walks right into my hands," he chuckled, his voice hoarse.
Shocked and terrified, I stepped away from the door, realizing I needed to escape this place.
I heard movement in the room and quickly ducked into the next room. Just as I slightly closed the door behind me, the man emerged. Although I couldn't see what he was doing, I heard the sound of chains rattling and the piercing of flesh.
Footsteps echoed again, and it seemed the man was leaving. The footsteps halted, followed by the man sniffing the air, chuckling with delight.
"Oh boy, oh boy, looks like another little fishy was wandering around here. I do love me some good hide and seek."
With that, it sounded like he exited the slaughter room and entered the memorial room. Gathering my courage, I left the room I had hidden in, refraining from using my phone's flashlight to avoid being spotted. I used the light coming from the butcher's room to navigate my way to the butcher's room.
The room was a blood-splattered chaos. In the center stood a large table, with limbs on it from the previous victim. I frantically searched the room for a key, a button, anything that could help me escape.
But there was nothing. Overwhelmed with despair, I collapsed onto the floor.
"I don't want to die. I don't want to die."
All hope seemed lost. That monster was sure to return any minute and kill me. At that moment, I noticed a large finger hanging on a cleaver keychain from one of the walls. I got up and grabbed it.
Then, I heard the door behind me creak open, and I felt a force pulling me upright.
"Well, well, the little fishy has strayed too far from the fishing net."
I turned and saw one of the ugliest faces I had ever seen, grinning at me. I struggled to break free from his grip, but he was too strong.
"Oh, the little fishy is putting up a fight? I do love me some strong fish."
He flashed a toothy grin and threw me onto the table. Placing his enormous hand on my neck, he began to strangle me.
"Now, playtime is over, fishy. Please die for me and create the music of death."
He brought his face closer to mine, a sadistic smile spreading across his lips. I clawed at his hands, but his grip tightened. I gasped for air and that made the man laugh.
"Give me more music fish."
Summoning my last ounce of strength, I clenched the cleaver keychain tightly and drove it into his eye with all my might.
The man howled in agony and stumbled back. Coughing and gasping for air, I scrambled to my feet. With one goal in mind to escape, I sprinted out of the room.
"You piece of shit! I'll skin you alive!" roared the butcher.
I took out my phone and illuminated my path with its light. Hastily finding the door to the memorial room, I entered it. The room was now a mess, with overturned tables. I didn't have much time to assess the full extent of the butcher's rampage. I exited the memorial room, rushed down the corridor, and reached the elevator.
Frantically pressing the buttons, I received no response. "Come on, come on!"
Despite multiple attempts, the elevator remained motionless. I heard a loud explosion behind me, signaling that the man had entered the memorial room. Ready to give up, I remembered the giant finger I had picked up. I decided to use it to press the elevator button, and to my relief, the elevator started moving up.
The elevator doors opened and with that, the memorial room doors as well. The light from the elevator shone in the corridor and I saw him running towards me.
"Get here, you little fish."
He raised his cleaver and hurled it towards me. I used the finger and pressed the ground level. The doors closed, stopping the cleaver from impaling me.
The elevator descended and stopped at the ground level.
The doors opened, revealing the reception area of the office, with the security guard Kashif sitting there. As he saw me, he quickly stood and approached.
"What happened to you? You're a complete mess, and what's with all the blood?" he asked, bewildered.
"There... I... He..." I struggled to form any words.
With that, I bolted out of the front door. I ran and ran, not even bothering to call a taxi. I needed to distance myself from that place and everything I had witnessed.
I reached my house in no time as I didn't live too far from the office, I locked all the doors and hid in my room. I don't know how, but somehow I managed to fall asleep. The next morning, I attempted to call Awais, but received no response. I tried calling the security guard, Kashif, but his phone was powered off. Each number I attempted to call yielded the same result—no connection.
During all this confusion, I noticed a text message notification on my phone. It was from Awais, sent to me just after he left the office last night. The message read:
"Junaid, what the hell is going on in this office? Why the hell are there dead bodies being kept here?"
submitted by UzairU1 to WritersOfHorror [link] [comments]
It's been approximately two days since the incident, and I can't shake the feeling of being watched. Each passing night, the shadows in my room seem to grow darker and have more substance. I fear I'm losing my sanity.
My fellow coworkers, as you read this, I'm uncertain if I'll still be alive. However, please, heed my warning. You must put an end to this curse before it's too late.
It happened on the night of June 23rd. It was around 11 PM, and anyone passing by the office building would have noticed that only the lights on the third floor were on. My colleague Awais and I were the only ones working late, as we had an upcoming deadline and, thus, had some unfinished tasks. It wouldn't be fair to solely blame us for the delay, as our client had taken their sweet time in providing the necessary data. Such was the life of an auditor.
My fingers glided across the keyboard of my laptop, the sound of typing echoed through the empty floor. Both of us were surviving on caffeine at this point, evident from the scattered paper cups on the table.
In the midst of entering an Excel formula, a faint scraping sound caught my attention. I had paused briefly to double-check my calculations, and that's when I heard it. As soon as I paid attention to it, it abruptly stopped. I looked up from my laptop, surveying the dimly lit office, but found no source for the sound. Awais, sitting to my right, seemed too busy with his work to notice. Shaking my head, I returned to my tasks, convinced that I had simply imagined it. However, as I looked back at the laptop screen, the scraping noise resumed, faint but distinct.
I immediately stood up, and once again, the sound stopped. I scanned the room and heard Awais making a strange noise. I turned toward him, and he burst into laughter.
"Bruh, you should have seen your face," Awais said, struggling to contain his amusement.
"Dude, that scared the hell out of me. Don't pull such pranks when we're up against a deadline."
"Yeah, yeah. You definitely need some sleep. You're losing it right now."
"I'll get some rest once I finish this," I replied, plopping back into my chair and letting out a sigh.
"I hate my job."
"Not much longer, right? This is our last day. Do you think our replacements will be able to complete this?"
"Probably. We gave them a thorough briefing about the work earlier."
I looked at Awais, and he slowly closed his laptop.
"You're leaving, huh?"
"I have a lot on my mind right now. I need to take a step back."
"Sure, I'll probably leave in a few minutes as well. You go ahead."
Awais started gathering his belongings, and in the midst of packing, he asked, "Have you heard from Asjad Bashir? He left the company a week ago, and we haven't heard a word from him."
"Same here. I've tried contacting him multiple times, but his phone was turned off."
"You think it's related to that rumored curse?"
"Nonsense. Do you believe in such things?"
"I don't, but lately, it seems more than just a rumor, doesn't it? They say those who leave the company vanish."
"Asjad not answering our calls would definitely have a logical explanation, rather than some absurd curse. He did say that his phone was causing all sorts of problems before he left"
"Sure, but what about Sarah and Ahmed?"
"They both had plans to move to China, so it's possible that they haven't had a chance to reach out to us yet."
"Junaid, it's been three months, and Ahmed, your work buddy, hasn't even contacted you."
"I understand that his silence is bothering you, but I have faith that he will eventually get in touch with us."
Awais didn't seem satisfied with my response. He stared blankly at the vacant office space.
"Don't worry about anything. You'll be fine. That rumor is just a tactic to keep us in the company," I assured him, giving his shoulder a pat.
"I want to believe that too. Anyway, I'm leaving now. Let's grab lunch sometime and talk shit about this company again," Awais said weakly, letting out a faint laugh.
"Sure thing, buddy."
We shook hands firmly, and Awais picked up his bag, heading towards the elevator. The doors closed, plunging the space into darkness once again, I returned to my desk and resumed my work.
About 20 minutes later, I stretched my arms.
"Man, the newbies are going to have a field day with this assignment."
I closed my laptop, preparing to pack up. I gathered the empty paper cups and tossed them into the nearby bin.
As I stood by the elevator, I took one last glance at the empty office.
"Never thought I'd witness this day, especially not after four years of being here."
With that, I stepped into the elevator. The doors closed, and the descent began, the floor numbers gradually ticking down from three.
Surprisingly, the elevator jolted and came to a sudden stop.
"Well, that was quicker than expected," I muttered.
I looked at the elevator panel, only to find the lower portion of "2" and the upper portion of "1".
"What in the world?"
Realizing that the doors hadn't opened, I pressed the buttons and attempted to force them apart, but to no avail. Of all the times, it had to be today. I decided to call the security guard, Kashif, I picked up my phone, and at that moment, the elevator doors opened.
Before me lay a dark corridor, without a single light. Glancing back at the panel, I noticed that it still displayed the same numbers. I tapped the panel and pressed the buttons, but nothing happened.
Letting out a sigh, I adjusted the strap of my bag and stepped out of the elevator. As soon as I did, the doors closed shut. I turned around, only to see the elevator panel indicating that it was descending to the ground level.
"You've got to be kidding me."
I found myself in an unfamiliar corridor. It didn't match any floor layout I was familiar with. With my phone's flashlight activated, I cautiously proceeded forward, noticing a partially open door a few meters away. In a final desperate attempt, I pushed the elevator button, but it remained fixed on the ground level. Admitting defeat, I slowly approached the door.
Carefully, I pushed the door open, my body on high alert for reasons I couldn't quite understand. Illuminating the room with my phone's light, I discovered empty workstations and chairs. I scanned the area, moving the light from one corner to another. In all my four years at the company, I had never seen this room before. I searched for a light switch, however, there were none, and I realized there were no windows either. Odd.
The only sound that came in the room was the sound of rushing air from the ventilation system. As I approached the first workstation, I noticed the name "Akhtar Ali" taped to the desk, accompanied by a photo of a man in his late thirties, I assumed the man in was Akhtar. Strangely enough, I had never seen or met him in the office before. I directed my flashlight towards the adjacent desk, where the name 'Parveen Nabil' was written—a name I had never heard in the office either.
Something felt off. I hurriedly passed by each table, each taped with a name tag and a picture of the person assigned to it. As I approached the end of the table, a particular name caught my attention. There was no mistaking it. Moving closer, I confirmed that 'Asjad Bashir' was written there, accompanied by a picture taken on his last day of work.
I took a step back from the table, feeling uneasy at what I had just looked at. Did the office maintain some bizarre memorial for all the staff members who had left? It sounded absurd, but that's exactly what was before me.
There were two desks next to Asjad's. I moved towards it, making me shiver at what I saw. The desks had mine and Awais' names taped on. What's more shocking was that the picture of either of us was the ones we took a couple of hours ago, when everyone had left.
"What in the world is going on? This is madness," I muttered.
I knew I had to leave. Something was severely wrong. At the far end of the room, there was another door. I approached it and cautiously opened it. Immediately, a horrendous, rotting smell invaded my nostrils, nearly causing me to throw up. Covering my nose, I took a step forward but tripped over something and stumbled to the floor. In the process, my phone was thrown a few feet away, its light illuminating the room. As I slowly rose, I noticed an arm lying next to my feet. Startled, I stood up, only to be confronted with a horrifying sight.
The floor was covered in dried blood, and several hooks with chains dangled from the ceiling. Lifeless bodies hung from those hooks, each with their mouths impaled on a hook. Limbs were strewn across the floor, as every body had been gruesomely dismembered.
I began to hyperventilate. What in God's name was I witnessing? This was sheer madness. Trembling, I reached for my phone, and as I retrieved it, I recognized the first body—the resemblance was unmistakable, it was Asjad Bashir. The corpse had decomposed slightly, but the face was still recognizable.
Three rooms stood at the end of the room, one of which was illuminated. I hurriedly made my way toward it, peeking through the doors' small window. Inside, a huge, obese man stood, easily seven feet tall and weighing over 500 pounds. His body was covered in scars and stitches, with a prominent red scar across his bald head. Gripping a massive meat cleaver, he was busy dismembering a lifeless figure on a table before him. With each strike, limbs fell off, and blood sprayed in all directions. I couldn't see the face of the body from my position.
"Gotta love it when the little fishy walks right into my hands," he chuckled, his voice hoarse.
Shocked and terrified, I stepped away from the door, realizing I needed to escape this place.
I heard movement in the room and quickly ducked into the next room. Just as I slightly closed the door behind me, the man emerged. Although I couldn't see what he was doing, I heard the sound of chains rattling and the piercing of flesh.
Footsteps echoed again, and it seemed the man was leaving. The footsteps halted, followed by the man sniffing the air, chuckling with delight.
"Oh boy, oh boy, looks like another little fishy was wandering around here. I do love me some good hide and seek."
With that, it sounded like he exited the slaughter room and entered the memorial room. Gathering my courage, I left the room I had hidden in, refraining from using my phone's flashlight to avoid being spotted. I used the light coming from the butcher's room to navigate my way to the butcher's room.
The room was a blood-splattered chaos. In the center stood a large table, with limbs on it from the previous victim. I frantically searched the room for a key, a button, anything that could help me escape.
But there was nothing. Overwhelmed with despair, I collapsed onto the floor.
"I don't want to die. I don't want to die."
All hope seemed lost. That monster was sure to return any minute and kill me. At that moment, I noticed a large finger hanging on a cleaver keychain from one of the walls. I got up and grabbed it.
Then, I heard the door behind me creak open, and I felt a force pulling me upright.
"Well, well, the little fishy has strayed too far from the fishing net."
I turned and saw one of the ugliest faces I had ever seen, grinning at me. I struggled to break free from his grip, but he was too strong.
"Oh, the little fishy is putting up a fight? I do love me some strong fish."
He flashed a toothy grin and threw me onto the table. Placing his enormous hand on my neck, he began to strangle me.
"Now, playtime is over, fishy. Please die for me and create the music of death."
He brought his face closer to mine, a sadistic smile spreading across his lips. I clawed at his hands, but his grip tightened. I gasped for air and that made the man laugh.
"Give me more music fish."
Summoning my last ounce of strength, I clenched the cleaver keychain tightly and drove it into his eye with all my might.
The man howled in agony and stumbled back. Coughing and gasping for air, I scrambled to my feet. With one goal in mind to escape, I sprinted out of the room.
"You piece of shit! I'll skin you alive!" roared the butcher.
I took out my phone and illuminated my path with its light. Hastily finding the door to the memorial room, I entered it. The room was now a mess, with overturned tables. I didn't have much time to assess the full extent of the butcher's rampage. I exited the memorial room, rushed down the corridor, and reached the elevator.
Frantically pressing the buttons, I received no response. "Come on, come on!"
Despite multiple attempts, the elevator remained motionless. I heard a loud explosion behind me, signaling that the man had entered the memorial room. Ready to give up, I remembered the giant finger I had picked up. I decided to use it to press the elevator button, and to my relief, the elevator started moving up.
The elevator doors opened and with that, the memorial room doors as well. The light from the elevator shone in the corridor and I saw him running towards me.
"Get here, you little fish."
He raised his cleaver and hurled it towards me. I used the finger and pressed the ground level. The doors closed, stopping the cleaver from impaling me.
The elevator descended and stopped at the ground level.
The doors opened, revealing the reception area of the office, with the security guard Kashif sitting there. As he saw me, he quickly stood and approached.
"What happened to you? You're a complete mess, and what's with all the blood?" he asked, bewildered.
"There... I... He..." I struggled to form any words.
With that, I bolted out of the front door. I ran and ran, not even bothering to call a taxi. I needed to distance myself from that place and everything I had witnessed.
I reached my house in no time as I didn't live too far from the office, I locked all the doors and hid in my room. I don't know how, but somehow I managed to fall asleep. The next morning, I attempted to call Awais, but received no response. I tried calling the security guard, Kashif, but his phone was powered off. Each number I attempted to call yielded the same result—no connection.
During all this confusion, I noticed a text message notification on my phone. It was from Awais, sent to me just after he left the office last night. The message read:
"Junaid, what the hell is going on in this office? Why the hell are there dead bodies being kept here?"
2023.06.10 12:45 Angel466 [Life Of Emeron] We Plan, Gods Laugh - Part 65
PART SIXTY-FIVE
[Previous Part] [Beginning]
Whether it was a snow half-orc thing or because Felipe was the chief and in better control of himself, his rage, as he surged to the nearest tree and tore it to pieces, then ripped it out by its massive roots and beat it all into kindling (roaring the whole time), was the extent of his outpouring. Part of me felt sorry for the tree, but better it than us.
Tarq maintained a protective stance half a step ahead of me, tensing when Felipe began punching into the frozen soil, but within a minute or two, with both hands pressed into the ground, he leaned over the top of them and stilled.
In the past, half-orcs had been known to rage for hours … sometimes days, depending on the slight. When Felipe turned to us, his eyes were red with unshed tears. “Where is he?” he asked, his voice thick and gravelly.
“With the rest of my party, having his first meal. He’s scared, Felipe. We haven’t questioned him yet, except to learn his name is Shobi, and even that’s more a play on the slave designation they gave him. Snow-Half-Orc-Eight-One … and a few other numbers.”
Felipe frowned. “They’ve got more than half-orcs,” he said without hesitation.
I nodded in agreement. “I thought as much too. Why allocate the species in the brand unless you have others that are different?”
“Are you going to tell Gimweren?”
“I’ll let her know of the possibility. More to the point, you know your people better than I do. Should we let your troops know now or hold off in the hopes that they don’t locate the slave pits? How you were able to contain your rage just then was impressive, but neither place will be a good time to lose so many snow half-orcs to a war craze.”
Felipe looked away from me, palming his braid with both hands thoughtfully. “We get angry, but we don’t do the psychotic rage like our green-skinned cousins,” he said, which coincided with what I knew of the battle-grain debacle of the past. “And we are just settling in for the night. I’ll speak to the boy first, then talk to a small group of my people. Once they have accepted the situation, I’ll have them move out to notify the others. Hopefully, most, if not all of my people, will be apprised of the situation by morning.”
“Shobi is understandably very nervous. Do you need another few minutes to clear your head properly, or are you good to go?”
His lips pinched as he thought about it, then turned to a brand new tree and punched his fist dead centre through it up to his bicep. “Okay,” he declared after extracting his arm as if he were pulling it through water. “I’m good now.”
I dismantled the opaque sound-blister I had created around us and led him back to our area, showing him where the opening in our protection dome was. He paused at the human-sized entrance he and the other half-orcs could pass through. “You’re very scary, Emeron. You know that, right?”
“Sorry?”
He flicked a finger at the opening. “I had no idea this spell could be modified like this.”
To me, it wasn’t a modification. Not like the ones I was actively avoiding to side-step a potentially cataclysmic event like blending chain lightning and fireballs to create a firestorm. This was more like having a thousand troops in front of me and ordering nine hundred to turn left and use their shield to form a testudo, leaving the other one hundred as they were. I lifted my left shoulder, uttered a dismissive sound, and went inside.
Felipe followed, losing all interest in me and my magical ability as his eyes zeroed in on the boy tucked in behind the opening where no prying eyes would see him. Shobi had his head covered by a blanket, with another wrapped around his waist, still eating whatever rations my friends had found in my pack while I’d been away talking to Felipe. What stunned me was the sight of Milo chopping up my vegetables into fine cubes with the speed and grace of a professional chef. He caught me staring at him and lifted his knife just enough to point at Shobi.
I’m not entirely sure why I thought Milo couldn’t cook. Perhaps it was because the roles in his shire were so gender defined or because he’d never offered to before. But that skill with a blade didn’t come from butchering prey, and it was a story I made a mental note to ask him for as soon as I got the opportunity.
Felipe swivelled on his heel to face the boy and then dropped to his knees, his eyes taking in the gaunt features of a man-child who’d probably never had a real meal in his life. “Do you understand me?” he asked.
The boy’s eyes were so wide it would have been comical if it wasn’t so tragic as they took in every facet of the man kneeling before him before returning to his face and nodding silently.
“Do you speak?”
Shobi swallowed heavily and nodded again.
“Do you know who your parents are?”
Instead of answering, the boy reached out one hand and gingerly touched the leather bracer of Felipe’s armour. Felipe turned his hand, allowing the boy to trace his fingers across the seams and down onto his battle-hardened palms. “You fight,” he said, looking up at Felipe’s face.
“When I have to,” Felipe agreed. “And as of now, I will fight for you.”
The boy’s eyes immediately filled with tears. “I don’ wancha t’ die.”
It was more than the boy had ever said before, and I could already hear the differences in the dialogue. Shobi’s was more like the regular half-orc.
Felipe’s lips twitched into a forced smile. “I don’t plan on doing it anytime soon either, son. But those people who did this to you?” He lifted his hand to push back the blanket covering the boy’s head, and I watched the pain that danced across his face as the short hair, then the branding as the boy leaned forward, came into view. “I will end them all for this.” His tone had dropped to something I felt belonged on the other side of the gates of hell.
Shobi started to shudder. A little at first, but then more violently as Felipe’s words sank in. “No. No!” he insisted, his small frame shaking with determination. “Run. Flee! Hide! Free!” He gripped Felipe’s forearm, desperate to convey that message.
With his free hand, Felipe reached over his shoulder and drew one of his two swords, pointing it tip down and to the side where Shobi could see it. “We are not unarmed,” he said in his most assertive voice.
If anything, the sight of the sword made Shobi even more frantic. “NO!” he insisted, rising to his feet and pulling Felipe to his. “You not win! You not! Run! Run or we die!”
“My gun says we can,” I said, using their distraction to unsheathe my light weapon and hold it towards the roof of our dome with my finger nowhere near the trigger. I watched as Shobi’s eyes went wide with recognition, which confirmed what I’d thought. The Consitors also had light weapons. “That’s right, Shobi. We have them too.”
I saw his eyes drop to my gloved wrist and knew what he was looking for. “I am not one of them,” I promised. “And this is Chief Felipe. We’re here to free everyone, and we’re not leaving until we do.” It may not have been on my original agenda, but now that I knew about it, it was damn well up near the top of my to-do list, coming in just under the evisceration of the Consitor infiltrators. “And we have the numbers to do it. What we don’t have, is what you know. You escaped, Shobi. You got out. And now you need to tell us how you did that so we can use it to our advantage.”
“Emeron,” Felipe said, so softly I almost didn’t catch it.
“Yes?”
“I want my people to see Shobi as he is, but once that is done, would you please heal him?”
I looked between him and the boy. “I’m not sure what you’re asking,” I admitted. “He’s not in great health, but he’s not …”
“Could you heal his scalp and then grow his hair so that he never has to see himself like this again?”
I breathed out slowly. “Healing the burnt tissue is something any defence mage can do, however forcing one aspect of someone to age faster than normal, which is essentially what you’re asking me to do—that I’m not so sure of. I wouldn’t want to risk accidentally aging the boy as well.”
Felipe’s nose screwed up in annoyance. “Is that a light weapon?” he asked, finally noticing my gun.
“Yes,” I nodded. “And it is connected to me and me alone. If anyone else were to try and use it, they would die.”
“Yuh, yuh!” Shobi agreed, nodding emphatically. “They scream, fly apart and poof. Gone. Bad! Very bad!”
That was something I didn’t know, and Shobi was apparently speaking from experience. “When did you see it happen?”
Shobi’s gaze dropped to the floor. “Masters drop guns. Good vermins get food. Vermins who use them…”
I sheathed my gun while Felipe’s attention was on the boy, then snapped my fingers twice for both of their attention. “Vermins?” I tried very hard to keep the censure out of my tone, but the way Shobi’s head dipped low, I hadn’t been overly successful.
I watched Shobi patting himself on the chest while his other hand squeezed Felipe’s wrist. He then pointed out Milo, Thalien, Lanna and Tarq before he stopped and stared hard at Shay-Lee since our resident half-elf looked more human except for her slightly pointed ears.
“Her too,” I growled, for again, his twisted worldview confirmed much. Vermins? I would not show these Consitor dogs any mercy at all. The extent of my mercy went to how quickly that ship of theirs was destroyed. I saw Felipe’s jaw clench and knew we were of the same mind there.
“Alright,” I said, releasing the breath I hadn’t realised I’d been holding. “This is how we’re going to proceed. Felipe, you bring up to speed only those who were at that first meeting in Tetorli. I’ll come with you and erect another opaque sound blister so their various reactions won’t be seen by others. Thalien, you and Lanna go to Gimweren and speak to those she had at that same meeting. We’ll reconvene here after that, and Shobi can tell us what we need to know about getting into Jinis Ridge.”
I waited just long enough for everyone to agree to my directions, then continued, “This will be the first time we’ll have information on what’s going on inside Jinis Ridge, but Shobi is young and clearly exhausted, so we won’t be pushing him too hard for details tonight. We’ll get what we can and pick it up again in the morning, but not before you and Gimweren spread the word that we’ll be camping an extra day here.”
“We’re only a day’s ride from Cerro Nexo,” Shay Lee quickly argued. “Why not ride there with him and have this discussion with the elves too?”
Thalien hummed in agreement, and in fairness, I could see the merits of their argument. Ironically, ten years ago, I’d have done just that and to hell with what the boy had endured. “Because I’m not about to force this young man back towards the one place he’s just killed himself to escape from. He got this far all by himself, and although I plan on winning this war, there will be casualties. He will NOT be amongst them. We’ll draw all the information we can from him, and then we’ll get him the hell out of here.”
I felt Shobi’s eyes on me, and when I turned, Felipe had his hand on the boy’s shoulder, squeezing gently. “Is that what you wish? To be safe, far, far from here?” he asked. Shobi nodded so hard I thought his neck was going to snap. “Very well. I have fighters outside. Many men and women who will die to protect you. Once you’ve told us everything you can about your …err… where you were,” —like me, Felipe would rather gargle crushed glass than speak of the slave pits to Shobi— “They’ll take you far away, to our home in the south. Thousands of us are there. You’ve been so brave to come this far, and I promise you, with everything in me and our people, you’ll never be alone again.”
Tears welled in Shobi’s eyes, and without warning, he lurched forward and wrapped his arms around Felipe’s neck, burying his face against his throat. Felipe tipped backwards under the unexpected impact, but Tarq’s reflexes had him standing behind the snow half-orc chief, supporting Felipe’s back with his legs.
The second blanket fell away at the sudden movement, reminding me he was dressed only in a leather loincloth. Felipe closed his eyes and angled his head against Shobi’s, curling his arms around the younger man’s trembling body. Now and again, his hand would travel up to Shobi’s back to cup his shaved head, only to change direction before coming into contact with the brand.
I stared at Felipe’s clothing, knowing there weren’t any class distinctions between him and what his people wore, and commanded the dust dots to create an exact copy of it in Shobi’s size. Truthfully, I should’ve done this before, but better late than never. Included in that order were the boots and whatever passed for snow half-orc underwear. Yes, it would mean every nick, tear and stain in the chief’s clothes would be replicated in the smaller size, but better that than botching something more fundamental.
The dust dots whirled, creating something from nothing until they had everything piled neatly on my outstretched hand. Except for the boots on top, the dots had even gone to the trouble of putting it in the order that it would be donned.
Poor Shobi had never worn clothes, and as soon as Felipe pulled each piece into place, the boy tugged and picked at the hems and seams. He was delighted to be rid of the loincloth, though. That he threw straight into the fire.
I tried very hard not to react to something like that and our food being within the same proximity. At least it had been cleaned, thanks to Lanna; otherwise, we’d probably all be gagging on the stench that would quickly follow.
The boots were the most challenging thing for him to adapt to. His ankles rolled with each step, and sheer pride kept him upright. “They pinch my toes,” he complained to Felipe, his new hero.
“Your toes have spread from not wearing shoes. Even now, look,” the big man explained, putting his booted foot down beside Shobi’s. “Yours are wider in the toe than mine because those boots were made specifically for you. They fit fine.”
Shobi squinted, realising his were at least an inch wider, despite the rest of the boot being two-thirds of Felipe’s. Shobi’s feet were more like that of a regular half-orc, probably for the same reason.
When Felipe and I went to leave to speak to the other snow half-orcs, Shobi clung to Felipe’s hand and all but wrapped himself around the chief’s arm. Nothing either of us said could convince him to let go.
“My people will not be happy to learn you have been treated like an animal,” Felipe tried to explain for the hundredth time. “I don’t want them to frighten you when they start throwing things to vent their anger.”
“You be here?” Shobi asked, somehow interlocking their fingers even as he pointed to where Chief Felipe stood.
“Of course.”
“I hide behind you.”
Felipe snorted, and I had to smirk as well. That wasn’t precisely what Felipe had meant, but it seemed Shobi had chosen himself a champion. “Nothing untoward will ever touch you again as long as I breathe, boy. Count on that.”
Shobi pressed his forehead into Felipe’s upper bicep, and Felipe’s jaw tensed as our eyes met, both of us silently wishing we could purge all that had happened to the youngster. It didn’t take a genius to realise it would take magic and a crowbar to separate them, either.
“Okay,” I said, coming up with a new plan on the fly. I hid my hand inside my jacket and had the dust dots craft me a quilted coif in Shobi’s size, having it appear in my hidden hand. From there, I went over to the boy and slid it over his head to hide his brand, and when his head lifted to see what I was doing, I tied the strings under his chin. “Leave that on,” I said as he went to touch the fabric. My eyes then went to Felipe. “Once those at this meeting have seen the brand, Thalien and Milo will remove the boy and repair his scalp. Time will grow his hair out, but at least he won’t have that brand beyond tonight.”
I put my hand on Shobi’s cheek and guided his face to look at me. “Have you ever seen a half-orc in a rage? When they get really, really mad?” I didn’t care how much he clung to Felipe. If this were all too new for him and the sight of his own people raging frightened him, I’d have Harmony put the boy to sleep for a few minutes while we were away.
Shobi nodded. “Sportsday.”
I really didn’t want to know what he meant by that. “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather stay here with Harmony and Liab?”
Shobi looked past me to where Harmony and her familiar sat, watching. I took the tightening grip on Felipe’s arm to mean ‘No’.
“Alright then,” I said, waving them both towards the opening. “Let’s do this.”
The snow half-orcs reacted as well as I expected, but an hour later, I had fifteen of one race and sixteen of the other sitting inside our dome. The line of myself and my friends with our backs to our fire was no different to that night in Tetorli, though this time, Felipe sat directly across from me instead of on my right. Shobi sat on his feet, his shins flush to the ground and his weight leaning sideways against Felipe. More interestingly, Felipe had draped his braid across Shobi’s shoulders with the weighted end pooled possessively in the boy’s lap. The way Shobi’s other hand caressed the braid and smiled shyly at those around him, he was nervous, but Felipe’s presence made him feel safe.
I couldn’t help but look to my left where Tarq stood, knowing that feeling very well.
“Let us see it,” Gimweren commanded, flicking her finger at the youngster.
“Do not bark orders at him, Overseer,” Felipe warned. “It is only through his bravery that you are now aware that they could very well have the young of your kind in there as slaves too.”
“They do,” Shobi answered, looking up at his hero. “They have all vermins.”
Gimweren met Felipe’s eyes, but then she drew in a deep breath and held it for several seconds before dipping her head in a silent nod. I noticed several of the warriors on both sides had dragged their hands through the frozen ground to control their tempers, partially due to the boy’s presence but also because they were under my roof, which was where they wanted to stay. “Alright, lad. When you’re ready, please take off the coif and twist around so we can see what those animals did to you.”
Even though I’d seen it before, looking at the seared flesh and burnt bone, my stomach roiled, and no less than three dwarves rose to their feet. “Boy,” they all shouted at once. If it weren’t for the concern in their eyes, I would’ve ordered them back to their seats.
“Shobi,” Felipe corrected.
“Shobi,” the dwarf closest to me repeated while the other two retook their seats in deference to him. “Would you allow me to fix that for you right now? I’m Overseer Gimweren’s personal defence mage. Do you know what that is?”
Shobi leaned harder against Felipe and shook his head.
“Among other things, I’m a magical healer, and I’m begging you to let me take that scar away. Please?”
Shobi looked at me, and when I rolled my hand to give him the choice, he looked up at Felipe. “They won’t hurt you, son,” he promised.
The son part was new.
“I’m assuming no one needs to see it again?” the male defence mage ran his eye along both sides, almost daring anyone to argue with him. Unsurprisingly, no one did. The dwarf then moved to stand directly in front of Shobi and knelt in front of him.
We all waited while the defence mage completed the sequence that would make the dust dots repair the physical damage. It only took a minute. “There,” he said with a smile, reaching forward to touch the back of Shobi’s head. I couldn’t see Shobi’s reaction since the dwarf stood between us, but I could picture it, especially when the defence mage continued on. “The snow half-orcs have always looked after their own, but you have my vow now to add to that. Anyone who comes at you must go through me first.”
“AYE!” “Hear, hear!” the line of dwarves cried in unison. Even Gimweren added her shout to the cry.
I looked back at my friends and saw Harmony and Lanna clasping their hands to their chests, both fighting the tears that banked in their eyes, and I could appreciate the sentiment. The boy had won the respect and loyalty of not one army but two.
For the next hour, Shobi told us in his limited dialect about his life in the slave pits of Jinis Ridge. Many of his explanations required physical prompting when words failed him, but no one spoke to contradict or interrupt him. If he was to be believed, he wasn’t a captured prisoner turned slave like I thought. He’d been born in the pits from parents who’d been brought together for the specific purpose of breeding.
And as I listened to his tale, I thought about our own slave trade and realised his story probably wasn’t that different to so many others. The palace didn’t have slaves; only a few of the capital’s population kept them, but they weren’t outlawed.
In fact, people in certain provinces made good coin peddling in flesh. I myself had parted with a significant sum of money to buy Harmony’s freedom when she’d been taken, and I hadn’t thought to ask myself why I had even allowed it to happen in the first place. The slaves were former citizens whose citizenship was stripped from them by others who were only citizens themselves. A collar and a brand were all that separated an imperial citizen and a slave, and we had allowed that to happen.
No … I had allowed that to happen.
It was a startling wake-up call to realise the only difference between the two types of slavers was their place of origin. That if the Consitors were Imperials, we wouldn’t be so up in arms about them enslaving people.
I glanced at where Felipe sat protectively at Shobi’s side and knew I had to amend that. The snow half-orcs were the exception. No one had ever taken a snow half-orc as a slave before that I knew of.
I felt a hand on each of my shoulders and knew without looking that one belonged to Harmony and the other to Milo. Tarq always knew what I was thinking, but those two had the uncanny knack of knowing instinctively what I was feeling, and right then, it wasn’t good. I hadn’t protected all of my people—only some of them.
When this was all over, I knew I’d be discussing this at length with Roald, and I wouldn’t stop until he agreed to make a proclamation outlawing slavery within our borders. Some livelihoods would suffer, but on the whole, we didn’t need slaves. They were simply convenient. Buying someone outright instead of paying a daily wage was easier.
Depending on how wound up I got, I might even push for a total ban on slaves within the empire, including any overseas visitors.
Leave them home, or watch them be taken from you and freed.
I liked the sound of that.
Perhaps I was getting too emotionally invested, but what was the point of being the Emperor’s Shadow if I couldn’t do what should’ve already been done to safeguard not just the majority of my people but each and every imperial citizen? Slaves, before they were enslaved, would have paid their taxes too, which should have given them certain protections, and I had seriously fallen down on the job there.
Not anymore.
* * * ((All comments welcome. Good or bad, I'd love to hear your thoughts 🥰🤗 )) For more of my work including WPs: Angel466 or an index of previous WPS here. FULL INDEX OF WE PLAN, GODS LAUGH TO DATE CAN BE FOUND HERE!!
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[Previous Part] [Beginning]
Whether it was a snow half-orc thing or because Felipe was the chief and in better control of himself, his rage, as he surged to the nearest tree and tore it to pieces, then ripped it out by its massive roots and beat it all into kindling (roaring the whole time), was the extent of his outpouring. Part of me felt sorry for the tree, but better it than us.
Tarq maintained a protective stance half a step ahead of me, tensing when Felipe began punching into the frozen soil, but within a minute or two, with both hands pressed into the ground, he leaned over the top of them and stilled.
In the past, half-orcs had been known to rage for hours … sometimes days, depending on the slight. When Felipe turned to us, his eyes were red with unshed tears. “Where is he?” he asked, his voice thick and gravelly.
“With the rest of my party, having his first meal. He’s scared, Felipe. We haven’t questioned him yet, except to learn his name is Shobi, and even that’s more a play on the slave designation they gave him. Snow-Half-Orc-Eight-One … and a few other numbers.”
Felipe frowned. “They’ve got more than half-orcs,” he said without hesitation.
I nodded in agreement. “I thought as much too. Why allocate the species in the brand unless you have others that are different?”
“Are you going to tell Gimweren?”
“I’ll let her know of the possibility. More to the point, you know your people better than I do. Should we let your troops know now or hold off in the hopes that they don’t locate the slave pits? How you were able to contain your rage just then was impressive, but neither place will be a good time to lose so many snow half-orcs to a war craze.”
Felipe looked away from me, palming his braid with both hands thoughtfully. “We get angry, but we don’t do the psychotic rage like our green-skinned cousins,” he said, which coincided with what I knew of the battle-grain debacle of the past. “And we are just settling in for the night. I’ll speak to the boy first, then talk to a small group of my people. Once they have accepted the situation, I’ll have them move out to notify the others. Hopefully, most, if not all of my people, will be apprised of the situation by morning.”
“Shobi is understandably very nervous. Do you need another few minutes to clear your head properly, or are you good to go?”
His lips pinched as he thought about it, then turned to a brand new tree and punched his fist dead centre through it up to his bicep. “Okay,” he declared after extracting his arm as if he were pulling it through water. “I’m good now.”
I dismantled the opaque sound-blister I had created around us and led him back to our area, showing him where the opening in our protection dome was. He paused at the human-sized entrance he and the other half-orcs could pass through. “You’re very scary, Emeron. You know that, right?”
“Sorry?”
He flicked a finger at the opening. “I had no idea this spell could be modified like this.”
To me, it wasn’t a modification. Not like the ones I was actively avoiding to side-step a potentially cataclysmic event like blending chain lightning and fireballs to create a firestorm. This was more like having a thousand troops in front of me and ordering nine hundred to turn left and use their shield to form a testudo, leaving the other one hundred as they were. I lifted my left shoulder, uttered a dismissive sound, and went inside.
Felipe followed, losing all interest in me and my magical ability as his eyes zeroed in on the boy tucked in behind the opening where no prying eyes would see him. Shobi had his head covered by a blanket, with another wrapped around his waist, still eating whatever rations my friends had found in my pack while I’d been away talking to Felipe. What stunned me was the sight of Milo chopping up my vegetables into fine cubes with the speed and grace of a professional chef. He caught me staring at him and lifted his knife just enough to point at Shobi.
I’m not entirely sure why I thought Milo couldn’t cook. Perhaps it was because the roles in his shire were so gender defined or because he’d never offered to before. But that skill with a blade didn’t come from butchering prey, and it was a story I made a mental note to ask him for as soon as I got the opportunity.
Felipe swivelled on his heel to face the boy and then dropped to his knees, his eyes taking in the gaunt features of a man-child who’d probably never had a real meal in his life. “Do you understand me?” he asked.
The boy’s eyes were so wide it would have been comical if it wasn’t so tragic as they took in every facet of the man kneeling before him before returning to his face and nodding silently.
“Do you speak?”
Shobi swallowed heavily and nodded again.
“Do you know who your parents are?”
Instead of answering, the boy reached out one hand and gingerly touched the leather bracer of Felipe’s armour. Felipe turned his hand, allowing the boy to trace his fingers across the seams and down onto his battle-hardened palms. “You fight,” he said, looking up at Felipe’s face.
“When I have to,” Felipe agreed. “And as of now, I will fight for you.”
The boy’s eyes immediately filled with tears. “I don’ wancha t’ die.”
It was more than the boy had ever said before, and I could already hear the differences in the dialogue. Shobi’s was more like the regular half-orc.
Felipe’s lips twitched into a forced smile. “I don’t plan on doing it anytime soon either, son. But those people who did this to you?” He lifted his hand to push back the blanket covering the boy’s head, and I watched the pain that danced across his face as the short hair, then the branding as the boy leaned forward, came into view. “I will end them all for this.” His tone had dropped to something I felt belonged on the other side of the gates of hell.
Shobi started to shudder. A little at first, but then more violently as Felipe’s words sank in. “No. No!” he insisted, his small frame shaking with determination. “Run. Flee! Hide! Free!” He gripped Felipe’s forearm, desperate to convey that message.
With his free hand, Felipe reached over his shoulder and drew one of his two swords, pointing it tip down and to the side where Shobi could see it. “We are not unarmed,” he said in his most assertive voice.
If anything, the sight of the sword made Shobi even more frantic. “NO!” he insisted, rising to his feet and pulling Felipe to his. “You not win! You not! Run! Run or we die!”
“My gun says we can,” I said, using their distraction to unsheathe my light weapon and hold it towards the roof of our dome with my finger nowhere near the trigger. I watched as Shobi’s eyes went wide with recognition, which confirmed what I’d thought. The Consitors also had light weapons. “That’s right, Shobi. We have them too.”
I saw his eyes drop to my gloved wrist and knew what he was looking for. “I am not one of them,” I promised. “And this is Chief Felipe. We’re here to free everyone, and we’re not leaving until we do.” It may not have been on my original agenda, but now that I knew about it, it was damn well up near the top of my to-do list, coming in just under the evisceration of the Consitor infiltrators. “And we have the numbers to do it. What we don’t have, is what you know. You escaped, Shobi. You got out. And now you need to tell us how you did that so we can use it to our advantage.”
“Emeron,” Felipe said, so softly I almost didn’t catch it.
“Yes?”
“I want my people to see Shobi as he is, but once that is done, would you please heal him?”
I looked between him and the boy. “I’m not sure what you’re asking,” I admitted. “He’s not in great health, but he’s not …”
“Could you heal his scalp and then grow his hair so that he never has to see himself like this again?”
I breathed out slowly. “Healing the burnt tissue is something any defence mage can do, however forcing one aspect of someone to age faster than normal, which is essentially what you’re asking me to do—that I’m not so sure of. I wouldn’t want to risk accidentally aging the boy as well.”
Felipe’s nose screwed up in annoyance. “Is that a light weapon?” he asked, finally noticing my gun.
“Yes,” I nodded. “And it is connected to me and me alone. If anyone else were to try and use it, they would die.”
“Yuh, yuh!” Shobi agreed, nodding emphatically. “They scream, fly apart and poof. Gone. Bad! Very bad!”
That was something I didn’t know, and Shobi was apparently speaking from experience. “When did you see it happen?”
Shobi’s gaze dropped to the floor. “Masters drop guns. Good vermins get food. Vermins who use them…”
I sheathed my gun while Felipe’s attention was on the boy, then snapped my fingers twice for both of their attention. “Vermins?” I tried very hard to keep the censure out of my tone, but the way Shobi’s head dipped low, I hadn’t been overly successful.
I watched Shobi patting himself on the chest while his other hand squeezed Felipe’s wrist. He then pointed out Milo, Thalien, Lanna and Tarq before he stopped and stared hard at Shay-Lee since our resident half-elf looked more human except for her slightly pointed ears.
“Her too,” I growled, for again, his twisted worldview confirmed much. Vermins? I would not show these Consitor dogs any mercy at all. The extent of my mercy went to how quickly that ship of theirs was destroyed. I saw Felipe’s jaw clench and knew we were of the same mind there.
“Alright,” I said, releasing the breath I hadn’t realised I’d been holding. “This is how we’re going to proceed. Felipe, you bring up to speed only those who were at that first meeting in Tetorli. I’ll come with you and erect another opaque sound blister so their various reactions won’t be seen by others. Thalien, you and Lanna go to Gimweren and speak to those she had at that same meeting. We’ll reconvene here after that, and Shobi can tell us what we need to know about getting into Jinis Ridge.”
I waited just long enough for everyone to agree to my directions, then continued, “This will be the first time we’ll have information on what’s going on inside Jinis Ridge, but Shobi is young and clearly exhausted, so we won’t be pushing him too hard for details tonight. We’ll get what we can and pick it up again in the morning, but not before you and Gimweren spread the word that we’ll be camping an extra day here.”
“We’re only a day’s ride from Cerro Nexo,” Shay Lee quickly argued. “Why not ride there with him and have this discussion with the elves too?”
Thalien hummed in agreement, and in fairness, I could see the merits of their argument. Ironically, ten years ago, I’d have done just that and to hell with what the boy had endured. “Because I’m not about to force this young man back towards the one place he’s just killed himself to escape from. He got this far all by himself, and although I plan on winning this war, there will be casualties. He will NOT be amongst them. We’ll draw all the information we can from him, and then we’ll get him the hell out of here.”
I felt Shobi’s eyes on me, and when I turned, Felipe had his hand on the boy’s shoulder, squeezing gently. “Is that what you wish? To be safe, far, far from here?” he asked. Shobi nodded so hard I thought his neck was going to snap. “Very well. I have fighters outside. Many men and women who will die to protect you. Once you’ve told us everything you can about your …err… where you were,” —like me, Felipe would rather gargle crushed glass than speak of the slave pits to Shobi— “They’ll take you far away, to our home in the south. Thousands of us are there. You’ve been so brave to come this far, and I promise you, with everything in me and our people, you’ll never be alone again.”
Tears welled in Shobi’s eyes, and without warning, he lurched forward and wrapped his arms around Felipe’s neck, burying his face against his throat. Felipe tipped backwards under the unexpected impact, but Tarq’s reflexes had him standing behind the snow half-orc chief, supporting Felipe’s back with his legs.
The second blanket fell away at the sudden movement, reminding me he was dressed only in a leather loincloth. Felipe closed his eyes and angled his head against Shobi’s, curling his arms around the younger man’s trembling body. Now and again, his hand would travel up to Shobi’s back to cup his shaved head, only to change direction before coming into contact with the brand.
I stared at Felipe’s clothing, knowing there weren’t any class distinctions between him and what his people wore, and commanded the dust dots to create an exact copy of it in Shobi’s size. Truthfully, I should’ve done this before, but better late than never. Included in that order were the boots and whatever passed for snow half-orc underwear. Yes, it would mean every nick, tear and stain in the chief’s clothes would be replicated in the smaller size, but better that than botching something more fundamental.
The dust dots whirled, creating something from nothing until they had everything piled neatly on my outstretched hand. Except for the boots on top, the dots had even gone to the trouble of putting it in the order that it would be donned.
Poor Shobi had never worn clothes, and as soon as Felipe pulled each piece into place, the boy tugged and picked at the hems and seams. He was delighted to be rid of the loincloth, though. That he threw straight into the fire.
I tried very hard not to react to something like that and our food being within the same proximity. At least it had been cleaned, thanks to Lanna; otherwise, we’d probably all be gagging on the stench that would quickly follow.
The boots were the most challenging thing for him to adapt to. His ankles rolled with each step, and sheer pride kept him upright. “They pinch my toes,” he complained to Felipe, his new hero.
“Your toes have spread from not wearing shoes. Even now, look,” the big man explained, putting his booted foot down beside Shobi’s. “Yours are wider in the toe than mine because those boots were made specifically for you. They fit fine.”
Shobi squinted, realising his were at least an inch wider, despite the rest of the boot being two-thirds of Felipe’s. Shobi’s feet were more like that of a regular half-orc, probably for the same reason.
When Felipe and I went to leave to speak to the other snow half-orcs, Shobi clung to Felipe’s hand and all but wrapped himself around the chief’s arm. Nothing either of us said could convince him to let go.
“My people will not be happy to learn you have been treated like an animal,” Felipe tried to explain for the hundredth time. “I don’t want them to frighten you when they start throwing things to vent their anger.”
“You be here?” Shobi asked, somehow interlocking their fingers even as he pointed to where Chief Felipe stood.
“Of course.”
“I hide behind you.”
Felipe snorted, and I had to smirk as well. That wasn’t precisely what Felipe had meant, but it seemed Shobi had chosen himself a champion. “Nothing untoward will ever touch you again as long as I breathe, boy. Count on that.”
Shobi pressed his forehead into Felipe’s upper bicep, and Felipe’s jaw tensed as our eyes met, both of us silently wishing we could purge all that had happened to the youngster. It didn’t take a genius to realise it would take magic and a crowbar to separate them, either.
“Okay,” I said, coming up with a new plan on the fly. I hid my hand inside my jacket and had the dust dots craft me a quilted coif in Shobi’s size, having it appear in my hidden hand. From there, I went over to the boy and slid it over his head to hide his brand, and when his head lifted to see what I was doing, I tied the strings under his chin. “Leave that on,” I said as he went to touch the fabric. My eyes then went to Felipe. “Once those at this meeting have seen the brand, Thalien and Milo will remove the boy and repair his scalp. Time will grow his hair out, but at least he won’t have that brand beyond tonight.”
I put my hand on Shobi’s cheek and guided his face to look at me. “Have you ever seen a half-orc in a rage? When they get really, really mad?” I didn’t care how much he clung to Felipe. If this were all too new for him and the sight of his own people raging frightened him, I’d have Harmony put the boy to sleep for a few minutes while we were away.
Shobi nodded. “Sportsday.”
I really didn’t want to know what he meant by that. “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather stay here with Harmony and Liab?”
Shobi looked past me to where Harmony and her familiar sat, watching. I took the tightening grip on Felipe’s arm to mean ‘No’.
“Alright then,” I said, waving them both towards the opening. “Let’s do this.”
The snow half-orcs reacted as well as I expected, but an hour later, I had fifteen of one race and sixteen of the other sitting inside our dome. The line of myself and my friends with our backs to our fire was no different to that night in Tetorli, though this time, Felipe sat directly across from me instead of on my right. Shobi sat on his feet, his shins flush to the ground and his weight leaning sideways against Felipe. More interestingly, Felipe had draped his braid across Shobi’s shoulders with the weighted end pooled possessively in the boy’s lap. The way Shobi’s other hand caressed the braid and smiled shyly at those around him, he was nervous, but Felipe’s presence made him feel safe.
I couldn’t help but look to my left where Tarq stood, knowing that feeling very well.
“Let us see it,” Gimweren commanded, flicking her finger at the youngster.
“Do not bark orders at him, Overseer,” Felipe warned. “It is only through his bravery that you are now aware that they could very well have the young of your kind in there as slaves too.”
“They do,” Shobi answered, looking up at his hero. “They have all vermins.”
Gimweren met Felipe’s eyes, but then she drew in a deep breath and held it for several seconds before dipping her head in a silent nod. I noticed several of the warriors on both sides had dragged their hands through the frozen ground to control their tempers, partially due to the boy’s presence but also because they were under my roof, which was where they wanted to stay. “Alright, lad. When you’re ready, please take off the coif and twist around so we can see what those animals did to you.”
Even though I’d seen it before, looking at the seared flesh and burnt bone, my stomach roiled, and no less than three dwarves rose to their feet. “Boy,” they all shouted at once. If it weren’t for the concern in their eyes, I would’ve ordered them back to their seats.
“Shobi,” Felipe corrected.
“Shobi,” the dwarf closest to me repeated while the other two retook their seats in deference to him. “Would you allow me to fix that for you right now? I’m Overseer Gimweren’s personal defence mage. Do you know what that is?”
Shobi leaned harder against Felipe and shook his head.
“Among other things, I’m a magical healer, and I’m begging you to let me take that scar away. Please?”
Shobi looked at me, and when I rolled my hand to give him the choice, he looked up at Felipe. “They won’t hurt you, son,” he promised.
The son part was new.
“I’m assuming no one needs to see it again?” the male defence mage ran his eye along both sides, almost daring anyone to argue with him. Unsurprisingly, no one did. The dwarf then moved to stand directly in front of Shobi and knelt in front of him.
We all waited while the defence mage completed the sequence that would make the dust dots repair the physical damage. It only took a minute. “There,” he said with a smile, reaching forward to touch the back of Shobi’s head. I couldn’t see Shobi’s reaction since the dwarf stood between us, but I could picture it, especially when the defence mage continued on. “The snow half-orcs have always looked after their own, but you have my vow now to add to that. Anyone who comes at you must go through me first.”
“AYE!” “Hear, hear!” the line of dwarves cried in unison. Even Gimweren added her shout to the cry.
I looked back at my friends and saw Harmony and Lanna clasping their hands to their chests, both fighting the tears that banked in their eyes, and I could appreciate the sentiment. The boy had won the respect and loyalty of not one army but two.
For the next hour, Shobi told us in his limited dialect about his life in the slave pits of Jinis Ridge. Many of his explanations required physical prompting when words failed him, but no one spoke to contradict or interrupt him. If he was to be believed, he wasn’t a captured prisoner turned slave like I thought. He’d been born in the pits from parents who’d been brought together for the specific purpose of breeding.
And as I listened to his tale, I thought about our own slave trade and realised his story probably wasn’t that different to so many others. The palace didn’t have slaves; only a few of the capital’s population kept them, but they weren’t outlawed.
In fact, people in certain provinces made good coin peddling in flesh. I myself had parted with a significant sum of money to buy Harmony’s freedom when she’d been taken, and I hadn’t thought to ask myself why I had even allowed it to happen in the first place. The slaves were former citizens whose citizenship was stripped from them by others who were only citizens themselves. A collar and a brand were all that separated an imperial citizen and a slave, and we had allowed that to happen.
No … I had allowed that to happen.
It was a startling wake-up call to realise the only difference between the two types of slavers was their place of origin. That if the Consitors were Imperials, we wouldn’t be so up in arms about them enslaving people.
I glanced at where Felipe sat protectively at Shobi’s side and knew I had to amend that. The snow half-orcs were the exception. No one had ever taken a snow half-orc as a slave before that I knew of.
I felt a hand on each of my shoulders and knew without looking that one belonged to Harmony and the other to Milo. Tarq always knew what I was thinking, but those two had the uncanny knack of knowing instinctively what I was feeling, and right then, it wasn’t good. I hadn’t protected all of my people—only some of them.
When this was all over, I knew I’d be discussing this at length with Roald, and I wouldn’t stop until he agreed to make a proclamation outlawing slavery within our borders. Some livelihoods would suffer, but on the whole, we didn’t need slaves. They were simply convenient. Buying someone outright instead of paying a daily wage was easier.
Depending on how wound up I got, I might even push for a total ban on slaves within the empire, including any overseas visitors.
Leave them home, or watch them be taken from you and freed.
I liked the sound of that.
Perhaps I was getting too emotionally invested, but what was the point of being the Emperor’s Shadow if I couldn’t do what should’ve already been done to safeguard not just the majority of my people but each and every imperial citizen? Slaves, before they were enslaved, would have paid their taxes too, which should have given them certain protections, and I had seriously fallen down on the job there.
Not anymore.
* * * ((All comments welcome. Good or bad, I'd love to hear your thoughts 🥰🤗 )) For more of my work including WPs: Angel466 or an index of previous WPS here. FULL INDEX OF WE PLAN, GODS LAUGH TO DATE CAN BE FOUND HERE!!
2023.06.10 12:45 Angel466 [Life Of Emeron] We Plan, Gods Laugh - Part 65
PART SIXTY-FIVE
[Previous Part] [Beginning]
Whether it was a snow half-orc thing or because Felipe was the chief and in better control of himself, his rage, as he surged to the nearest tree and tore it to pieces, then ripped it out by its massive roots and beat it all into kindling (roaring the whole time), was the extent of his outpouring. Part of me felt sorry for the tree, but better it than us.
Tarq maintained a protective stance half a step ahead of me, tensing when Felipe began punching into the frozen soil, but within a minute or two, with both hands pressed into the ground, he leaned over the top of them and stilled.
In the past, half-orcs had been known to rage for hours … sometimes days, depending on the slight. When Felipe turned to us, his eyes were red with unshed tears. “Where is he?” he asked, his voice thick and gravelly.
“With the rest of my party, having his first meal. He’s scared, Felipe. We haven’t questioned him yet, except to learn his name is Shobi, and even that’s more a play on the slave designation they gave him. Snow-Half-Orc-Eight-One … and a few other numbers.”
Felipe frowned. “They’ve got more than half-orcs,” he said without hesitation.
I nodded in agreement. “I thought as much too. Why allocate the species in the brand unless you have others that are different?”
“Are you going to tell Gimweren?”
“I’ll let her know of the possibility. More to the point, you know your people better than I do. Should we let your troops know now or hold off in the hopes that they don’t locate the slave pits? How you were able to contain your rage just then was impressive, but neither place will be a good time to lose so many snow half-orcs to a war craze.”
Felipe looked away from me, palming his braid with both hands thoughtfully. “We get angry, but we don’t do the psychotic rage like our green-skinned cousins,” he said, which coincided with what I knew of the battle-grain debacle of the past. “And we are just settling in for the night. I’ll speak to the boy first, then talk to a small group of my people. Once they have accepted the situation, I’ll have them move out to notify the others. Hopefully, most, if not all of my people, will be apprised of the situation by morning.”
“Shobi is understandably very nervous. Do you need another few minutes to clear your head properly, or are you good to go?”
His lips pinched as he thought about it, then turned to a brand new tree and punched his fist dead centre through it up to his bicep. “Okay,” he declared after extracting his arm as if he were pulling it through water. “I’m good now.”
I dismantled the opaque sound-blister I had created around us and led him back to our area, showing him where the opening in our protection dome was. He paused at the human-sized entrance he and the other half-orcs could pass through. “You’re very scary, Emeron. You know that, right?”
“Sorry?”
He flicked a finger at the opening. “I had no idea this spell could be modified like this.”
To me, it wasn’t a modification. Not like the ones I was actively avoiding to side-step a potentially cataclysmic event like blending chain lightning and fireballs to create a firestorm. This was more like having a thousand troops in front of me and ordering nine hundred to turn left and use their shield to form a testudo, leaving the other one hundred as they were. I lifted my left shoulder, uttered a dismissive sound, and went inside.
Felipe followed, losing all interest in me and my magical ability as his eyes zeroed in on the boy tucked in behind the opening where no prying eyes would see him. Shobi had his head covered by a blanket, with another wrapped around his waist, still eating whatever rations my friends had found in my pack while I’d been away talking to Felipe. What stunned me was the sight of Milo chopping up my vegetables into fine cubes with the speed and grace of a professional chef. He caught me staring at him and lifted his knife just enough to point at Shobi.
I’m not entirely sure why I thought Milo couldn’t cook. Perhaps it was because the roles in his shire were so gender defined or because he’d never offered to before. But that skill with a blade didn’t come from butchering prey, and it was a story I made a mental note to ask him for as soon as I got the opportunity.
Felipe swivelled on his heel to face the boy and then dropped to his knees, his eyes taking in the gaunt features of a man-child who’d probably never had a real meal in his life. “Do you understand me?” he asked.
The boy’s eyes were so wide it would have been comical if it wasn’t so tragic as they took in every facet of the man kneeling before him before returning to his face and nodding silently.
“Do you speak?”
Shobi swallowed heavily and nodded again.
“Do you know who your parents are?”
Instead of answering, the boy reached out one hand and gingerly touched the leather bracer of Felipe’s armour. Felipe turned his hand, allowing the boy to trace his fingers across the seams and down onto his battle-hardened palms. “You fight,” he said, looking up at Felipe’s face.
“When I have to,” Felipe agreed. “And as of now, I will fight for you.”
The boy’s eyes immediately filled with tears. “I don’ wancha t’ die.”
It was more than the boy had ever said before, and I could already hear the differences in the dialogue. Shobi’s was more like the regular half-orc.
Felipe’s lips twitched into a forced smile. “I don’t plan on doing it anytime soon either, son. But those people who did this to you?” He lifted his hand to push back the blanket covering the boy’s head, and I watched the pain that danced across his face as the short hair, then the branding as the boy leaned forward, came into view. “I will end them all for this.” His tone had dropped to something I felt belonged on the other side of the gates of hell.
Shobi started to shudder. A little at first, but then more violently as Felipe’s words sank in. “No. No!” he insisted, his small frame shaking with determination. “Run. Flee! Hide! Free!” He gripped Felipe’s forearm, desperate to convey that message.
With his free hand, Felipe reached over his shoulder and drew one of his two swords, pointing it tip down and to the side where Shobi could see it. “We are not unarmed,” he said in his most assertive voice.
If anything, the sight of the sword made Shobi even more frantic. “NO!” he insisted, rising to his feet and pulling Felipe to his. “You not win! You not! Run! Run or we die!”
“My gun says we can,” I said, using their distraction to unsheathe my light weapon and hold it towards the roof of our dome with my finger nowhere near the trigger. I watched as Shobi’s eyes went wide with recognition, which confirmed what I’d thought. The Consitors also had light weapons. “That’s right, Shobi. We have them too.”
I saw his eyes drop to my gloved wrist and knew what he was looking for. “I am not one of them,” I promised. “And this is Chief Felipe. We’re here to free everyone, and we’re not leaving until we do.” It may not have been on my original agenda, but now that I knew about it, it was damn well up near the top of my to-do list, coming in just under the evisceration of the Consitor infiltrators. “And we have the numbers to do it. What we don’t have, is what you know. You escaped, Shobi. You got out. And now you need to tell us how you did that so we can use it to our advantage.”
“Emeron,” Felipe said, so softly I almost didn’t catch it.
“Yes?”
“I want my people to see Shobi as he is, but once that is done, would you please heal him?”
I looked between him and the boy. “I’m not sure what you’re asking,” I admitted. “He’s not in great health, but he’s not …”
“Could you heal his scalp and then grow his hair so that he never has to see himself like this again?”
I breathed out slowly. “Healing the burnt tissue is something any defence mage can do, however forcing one aspect of someone to age faster than normal, which is essentially what you’re asking me to do—that I’m not so sure of. I wouldn’t want to risk accidentally aging the boy as well.”
Felipe’s nose screwed up in annoyance. “Is that a light weapon?” he asked, finally noticing my gun.
“Yes,” I nodded. “And it is connected to me and me alone. If anyone else were to try and use it, they would die.”
“Yuh, yuh!” Shobi agreed, nodding emphatically. “They scream, fly apart and poof. Gone. Bad! Very bad!”
That was something I didn’t know, and Shobi was apparently speaking from experience. “When did you see it happen?”
Shobi’s gaze dropped to the floor. “Masters drop guns. Good Vermins get food. Vermins who use them…”
I sheathed my gun while Felipe’s attention was on the boy, then snapped my fingers twice for both of their attention. “Vermins?” I tried very hard to keep the censure out of my tone, but the way Shobi’s head dipped low, I hadn’t been overly successful.
I watched Shobi patting himself on the chest while his other hand squeezed Felipe’s wrist. He then pointed out Milo, Thalien, Lanna and Tarq before he stopped and stared hard at Shay-Lee since our resident half-elf looked more human except for her slightly pointed ears.
“Her too,” I growled, for again, his twisted worldview confirmed much. Vermins? I would not show these Consitor dogs any mercy at all. The extent of my mercy went to how quickly that ship of theirs was destroyed. I saw Felipe’s jaw clench and knew we were of the same mind there.
“Alright,” I said, releasing the breath I hadn’t realised I’d been holding. “This is how we’re going to proceed. Felipe, you bring up to speed only those who were at that first meeting in Tetorli. I’ll come with you and erect another opaque sound blister so their various reactions won’t be seen by others. Thalien, you and Lanna go to Gimweren and speak to those she had at that same meeting. We’ll reconvene here after that, and Shobi can tell us what we need to know about getting into Jinis Ridge.”
I waited just long enough for everyone to agree to my directions, then continued, “This will be the first time we’ll have information on what’s going on inside Jinis Ridge, but Shobi is young and clearly exhausted, so we won’t be pushing him too hard for details tonight. We’ll get what we can and pick it up again in the morning, but not before you and Gimweren spread the word that we’ll be camping an extra day here.”
“We’re only a day’s ride from Cerro Nexo,” Shay Lee quickly argued. “Why not ride there with him and have this discussion with the elves too?”
Thalien hummed in agreement, and in fairness, I could see the merits of their argument. Ironically, ten years ago, I’d have done just that and to hell with what the boy had endured. “Because I’m not about to force this young man back towards the one place he’s just killed himself to escape from. He got this far all by himself, and although I plan on winning this war, there will be casualties. He will NOT be amongst them. We’ll draw all the information we can from him, and then we’ll get him the hell out of here.”
I felt Shobi’s eyes on me, and when I turned, Felipe had his hand on the boy’s shoulder, squeezing gently. “Is that what you wish? To be safe, far, far from here?” he asked. Shobi nodded so hard I thought his neck was going to snap. “Very well. I have fighters outside. Many men and women who will die to protect you. Once you’ve told us everything you can about your …err… where you were,” —like me, Felipe would rather gargle crushed glass than speak of the slave pits to Shobi— “They’ll take you far away, to our home in the south. Thousands of us are there. You’ve been so brave to come this far, and I promise you, with everything in me and our people, you’ll never be alone again.”
Tears welled in Shobi’s eyes, and without warning, he lurched forward and wrapped his arms around Felipe’s neck, burying his face against his throat. Felipe tipped backwards under the unexpected impact, but Tarq’s reflexes had him standing behind the snow half-orc chief, supporting Felipe’s back with his legs.
The second blanket fell away at the sudden movement, reminding me he was dressed only in a leather loincloth. Felipe closed his eyes and angled his head against Shobi’s, curling his arms around the younger man’s trembling body. Now and again, his hand would travel up to Shobi’s back to cup his shaved head, only to change direction before coming into contact with the brand.
I stared at Felipe’s clothing, knowing there weren’t any class distinctions between him and what his people wore, and commanded the dust dots to create an exact copy of it in Shobi’s size. Truthfully, I should’ve done this before, but better late than never. Included in that order were the boots and whatever passed for snow half-orc underwear. Yes, it would mean every nick, tear and stain in the chief’s clothes would be replicated in the smaller size, but better that than botching something more fundamental.
The dust dots whirled, creating something from nothing until they had everything piled neatly on my outstretched hand. Except for the boots on top, the dots had even gone to the trouble of putting it in the order that it would be donned.
Poor Shobi had never worn clothes, and as soon as Felipe pulled each piece into place, the boy tugged and picked at the hems and seams. He was delighted to be rid of the loincloth, though. That he threw straight into the fire.
I tried very hard not to react to something like that and our food being within the same proximity. At least it had been cleaned, thanks to Lanna; otherwise, we’d probably all be gagging on the stench that would quickly follow.
The boots were the most challenging thing for him to adapt to. His ankles rolled with each step, and sheer pride kept him upright. “They pinch my toes,” he complained to Felipe, his new hero.
“Your toes have spread from not wearing shoes. Even now, look,” the big man explained, putting his booted foot down beside Shobi’s. “Yours are wider in the toe than mine because those boots were made specifically for you. They fit fine.”
Shobi squinted, realising his were at least an inch wider, despite the rest of the boot being two-thirds of Felipe’s. Shobi’s feet were more like that of a regular half-orc, probably for the same reason.
When Felipe and I went to leave to speak to the other snow half-orcs, Shobi clung to Felipe’s hand and all but wrapped himself around the chief’s arm. Nothing either of us said could convince him to let go.
“My people will not be happy to learn you have been treated like an animal,” Felipe tried to explain for the hundredth time. “I don’t want them to frighten you when they start throwing things to vent their anger.”
“You be here?” Shobi asked, somehow interlocking their fingers even as he pointed to where Chief Felipe stood.
“Of course.”
“I hide behind you.”
Felipe snorted, and I had to smirk as well. That wasn’t precisely what Felipe had meant, but it seemed Shobi had chosen himself a champion. “Nothing untoward will ever touch you again as long as I breathe, boy. Count on that.”
Shobi pressed his forehead into Felipe’s upper bicep, and Felipe’s jaw tensed as our eyes met, both of us silently wishing we could purge all that had happened to the youngster. It didn’t take a genius to realise it would take magic and a crowbar to separate them, either.
“Okay,” I said, coming up with a new plan on the fly. I hid my hand inside my jacket and had the dust dots craft me a quilted coif in Shobi’s size, having it appear in my hidden hand. From there, I went over to the boy and slid it over his head to hide his brand, and when his head lifted to see what I was doing, I tied the strings under his chin. “Leave that on,” I said as he went to touch the fabric. My eyes then went to Felipe. “Once those at this meeting have seen the brand, Thalien and Milo will remove the boy and repair his scalp. Time will grow his hair out, but at least he won’t have that brand beyond tonight.”
I put my hand on Shobi’s cheek and guided his face to look at me. “Have you ever seen a half-orc in a rage? When they get really, really mad?” I didn’t care how much he clung to Felipe. If this were all too new for him and the sight of his own people raging frightened him, I’d have Harmony put the boy to sleep for a few minutes while we were away.
Shobi nodded. “Sportsday.”
I really didn’t want to know what he meant by that. “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather stay here with Harmony and Liab?”
Shobi looked past me to where Harmony and her familiar sat, watching. I took the tightening grip on Felipe’s arm to mean ‘No’.
“Alright then,” I said, waving them both towards the opening. “Let’s do this.”
The snow half-orcs reacted as well as I expected, but an hour later, I had fifteen of one race and sixteen of the other sitting inside our dome. The line of myself and my friends with our backs to our fire was no different to that night in Tetorli, though this time, Felipe sat directly across from me instead of on my right. Shobi sat on his feet, his shins flush to the ground and his weight leaning sideways against Felipe. More interestingly, Felipe had draped his braid across Shobi’s shoulders with the weighted end pooled possessively in the boy’s lap. The way Shobi’s other hand caressed the braid and smiled shyly at those around him, he was nervous, but Felipe’s presence made him feel safe.
I couldn’t help but look to my left where Tarq stood, knowing that feeling very well.
“Let us see it,” Gimweren commanded, flicking her finger at the youngster.
“Do not bark orders at him, Overseer,” Felipe warned. “It is only through his bravery that you are now aware that they could very well have the young of your kind in there as slaves too.”
“They do,” Shobi answered, looking up at his hero. “They have all vermins.”
Gimweren met Felipe’s eyes, but then she drew in a deep breath and held it for several seconds before dipping her head in a silent nod. I noticed several of the warriors on both sides had dragged their hands through the frozen ground to control their tempers, partially due to the boy’s presence but also because they were under my roof, which was where they wanted to stay. “Alright, lad. When you’re ready, please take off the coif and twist around so we can see what those animals did to you.”
Even though I’d seen it before, looking at the seared flesh and burnt bone, my stomach roiled, and no less than three dwarves rose to their feet. “Boy,” they all shouted at once. If it weren’t for the concern in their eyes, I would’ve ordered them back to their seats.
“Shobi,” Felipe corrected.
“Shobi,” the dwarf closest to me repeated while the other two retook their seats in deference to him. “Would you allow me to fix that for you right now? I’m Overseer Gimweren’s personal defence mage. Do you know what that is?”
Shobi leaned harder against Felipe and shook his head.
“Among other things, I’m a magical healer, and I’m begging you to let me take that scar away. Please?”
Shobi looked at me, and when I rolled my hand to give him the choice, he looked up at Felipe. “They won’t hurt you, son,” he promised.
The son part was new.
“I’m assuming no one needs to see it again?” the male defence mage ran his eye along both sides, almost daring anyone to argue with him. Unsurprisingly, no one did. The dwarf then moved to stand directly in front of Shobi and knelt in front of him.
We all waited while the defence mage completed the sequence that would make the dust dots repair the physical damage. It only took a minute. “There,” he said with a smile, reaching forward to touch the back of Shobi’s head. I couldn’t see Shobi’s reaction since the dwarf stood between us, but I could picture it, especially when the defence mage continued on. “The snow half-orcs have always looked after their own, but you have my vow now to add to that. Anyone who comes at you must go through me first.”
“AYE!” “Hear, hear!” the line of dwarves cried in unison. Even Gimweren added her shout to the cry.
I looked back at my friends and saw Harmony and Lanna clasping their hands to their chests, both fighting the tears that banked in their eyes, and I could appreciate the sentiment. The boy had won the respect and loyalty of not one army but two.
For the next hour, Shobi told us in his limited dialect about his life in the slave pits of Jinis Ridge. Many of his explanations required physical prompting when words failed him, but no one spoke to contradict or interrupt him. If he was to be believed, he wasn’t a captured prisoner turned slave like I thought. He’d been born in the pits from parents who’d been brought together for the specific purpose of breeding.
And as I listened to his tale, I thought about our own slave trade and realised his story probably wasn’t that different to so many others. The palace didn’t have slaves; only a few of the capital’s population kept them, but they weren’t outlawed.
In fact, people in certain provinces made good coin peddling in flesh. I myself had parted with a significant sum of money to buy Harmony’s freedom when she’d been taken, and I hadn’t thought to ask myself why I had even allowed it to happen in the first place. The slaves were former citizens whose citizenship was stripped from them by others who were only citizens themselves. A collar and a brand were all that separated an imperial citizen and a slave, and we had allowed that to happen.
No … I had allowed that to happen.
It was a startling wake-up call to realise the only difference between the two types of slavers was their place of origin. That if the Consitors were Imperials, we wouldn’t be so up in arms about them enslaving people.
I glanced at where Felipe sat protectively at Shobi’s side and knew I had to amend that. The snow half-orcs were the exception. No one had ever taken a snow half-orc as a slave before that I knew of.
I felt a hand on each of my shoulders and knew without looking that one belonged to Harmony and the other to Milo. Tarq always knew what I was thinking, but those two had the uncanny knack of knowing instinctively what I was feeling, and right then, it wasn’t good. I hadn’t protected all of my people—only some of them.
When this was all over, I knew I’d be discussing this at length with Roald, and I wouldn’t stop until he agreed to make a proclamation outlawing slavery within our borders. Some livelihoods would suffer, but on the whole, we didn’t need slaves. They were simply convenient. Buying someone outright instead of paying a daily wage was easier.
Depending on how wound up I got, I might even push for a total ban on slaves within the empire, including any overseas visitors.
Leave them home, or watch them be taken from you and freed.
I liked the sound of that.
Perhaps I was getting too emotionally invested, but what was the point of being the Emperor’s Shadow if I couldn’t do what should’ve already been done to safeguard not just the majority of my people but each and every imperial citizen? Slaves, before they were enslaved, would have paid their taxes too, which should have given them certain protections, and I had seriously fallen down on the job there.
Not anymore.
* * *
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[Previous Part] [Beginning]
Whether it was a snow half-orc thing or because Felipe was the chief and in better control of himself, his rage, as he surged to the nearest tree and tore it to pieces, then ripped it out by its massive roots and beat it all into kindling (roaring the whole time), was the extent of his outpouring. Part of me felt sorry for the tree, but better it than us.
Tarq maintained a protective stance half a step ahead of me, tensing when Felipe began punching into the frozen soil, but within a minute or two, with both hands pressed into the ground, he leaned over the top of them and stilled.
In the past, half-orcs had been known to rage for hours … sometimes days, depending on the slight. When Felipe turned to us, his eyes were red with unshed tears. “Where is he?” he asked, his voice thick and gravelly.
“With the rest of my party, having his first meal. He’s scared, Felipe. We haven’t questioned him yet, except to learn his name is Shobi, and even that’s more a play on the slave designation they gave him. Snow-Half-Orc-Eight-One … and a few other numbers.”
Felipe frowned. “They’ve got more than half-orcs,” he said without hesitation.
I nodded in agreement. “I thought as much too. Why allocate the species in the brand unless you have others that are different?”
“Are you going to tell Gimweren?”
“I’ll let her know of the possibility. More to the point, you know your people better than I do. Should we let your troops know now or hold off in the hopes that they don’t locate the slave pits? How you were able to contain your rage just then was impressive, but neither place will be a good time to lose so many snow half-orcs to a war craze.”
Felipe looked away from me, palming his braid with both hands thoughtfully. “We get angry, but we don’t do the psychotic rage like our green-skinned cousins,” he said, which coincided with what I knew of the battle-grain debacle of the past. “And we are just settling in for the night. I’ll speak to the boy first, then talk to a small group of my people. Once they have accepted the situation, I’ll have them move out to notify the others. Hopefully, most, if not all of my people, will be apprised of the situation by morning.”
“Shobi is understandably very nervous. Do you need another few minutes to clear your head properly, or are you good to go?”
His lips pinched as he thought about it, then turned to a brand new tree and punched his fist dead centre through it up to his bicep. “Okay,” he declared after extracting his arm as if he were pulling it through water. “I’m good now.”
I dismantled the opaque sound-blister I had created around us and led him back to our area, showing him where the opening in our protection dome was. He paused at the human-sized entrance he and the other half-orcs could pass through. “You’re very scary, Emeron. You know that, right?”
“Sorry?”
He flicked a finger at the opening. “I had no idea this spell could be modified like this.”
To me, it wasn’t a modification. Not like the ones I was actively avoiding to side-step a potentially cataclysmic event like blending chain lightning and fireballs to create a firestorm. This was more like having a thousand troops in front of me and ordering nine hundred to turn left and use their shield to form a testudo, leaving the other one hundred as they were. I lifted my left shoulder, uttered a dismissive sound, and went inside.
Felipe followed, losing all interest in me and my magical ability as his eyes zeroed in on the boy tucked in behind the opening where no prying eyes would see him. Shobi had his head covered by a blanket, with another wrapped around his waist, still eating whatever rations my friends had found in my pack while I’d been away talking to Felipe. What stunned me was the sight of Milo chopping up my vegetables into fine cubes with the speed and grace of a professional chef. He caught me staring at him and lifted his knife just enough to point at Shobi.
I’m not entirely sure why I thought Milo couldn’t cook. Perhaps it was because the roles in his shire were so gender defined or because he’d never offered to before. But that skill with a blade didn’t come from butchering prey, and it was a story I made a mental note to ask him for as soon as I got the opportunity.
Felipe swivelled on his heel to face the boy and then dropped to his knees, his eyes taking in the gaunt features of a man-child who’d probably never had a real meal in his life. “Do you understand me?” he asked.
The boy’s eyes were so wide it would have been comical if it wasn’t so tragic as they took in every facet of the man kneeling before him before returning to his face and nodding silently.
“Do you speak?”
Shobi swallowed heavily and nodded again.
“Do you know who your parents are?”
Instead of answering, the boy reached out one hand and gingerly touched the leather bracer of Felipe’s armour. Felipe turned his hand, allowing the boy to trace his fingers across the seams and down onto his battle-hardened palms. “You fight,” he said, looking up at Felipe’s face.
“When I have to,” Felipe agreed. “And as of now, I will fight for you.”
The boy’s eyes immediately filled with tears. “I don’ wancha t’ die.”
It was more than the boy had ever said before, and I could already hear the differences in the dialogue. Shobi’s was more like the regular half-orc.
Felipe’s lips twitched into a forced smile. “I don’t plan on doing it anytime soon either, son. But those people who did this to you?” He lifted his hand to push back the blanket covering the boy’s head, and I watched the pain that danced across his face as the short hair, then the branding as the boy leaned forward, came into view. “I will end them all for this.” His tone had dropped to something I felt belonged on the other side of the gates of hell.
Shobi started to shudder. A little at first, but then more violently as Felipe’s words sank in. “No. No!” he insisted, his small frame shaking with determination. “Run. Flee! Hide! Free!” He gripped Felipe’s forearm, desperate to convey that message.
With his free hand, Felipe reached over his shoulder and drew one of his two swords, pointing it tip down and to the side where Shobi could see it. “We are not unarmed,” he said in his most assertive voice.
If anything, the sight of the sword made Shobi even more frantic. “NO!” he insisted, rising to his feet and pulling Felipe to his. “You not win! You not! Run! Run or we die!”
“My gun says we can,” I said, using their distraction to unsheathe my light weapon and hold it towards the roof of our dome with my finger nowhere near the trigger. I watched as Shobi’s eyes went wide with recognition, which confirmed what I’d thought. The Consitors also had light weapons. “That’s right, Shobi. We have them too.”
I saw his eyes drop to my gloved wrist and knew what he was looking for. “I am not one of them,” I promised. “And this is Chief Felipe. We’re here to free everyone, and we’re not leaving until we do.” It may not have been on my original agenda, but now that I knew about it, it was damn well up near the top of my to-do list, coming in just under the evisceration of the Consitor infiltrators. “And we have the numbers to do it. What we don’t have, is what you know. You escaped, Shobi. You got out. And now you need to tell us how you did that so we can use it to our advantage.”
“Emeron,” Felipe said, so softly I almost didn’t catch it.
“Yes?”
“I want my people to see Shobi as he is, but once that is done, would you please heal him?”
I looked between him and the boy. “I’m not sure what you’re asking,” I admitted. “He’s not in great health, but he’s not …”
“Could you heal his scalp and then grow his hair so that he never has to see himself like this again?”
I breathed out slowly. “Healing the burnt tissue is something any defence mage can do, however forcing one aspect of someone to age faster than normal, which is essentially what you’re asking me to do—that I’m not so sure of. I wouldn’t want to risk accidentally aging the boy as well.”
Felipe’s nose screwed up in annoyance. “Is that a light weapon?” he asked, finally noticing my gun.
“Yes,” I nodded. “And it is connected to me and me alone. If anyone else were to try and use it, they would die.”
“Yuh, yuh!” Shobi agreed, nodding emphatically. “They scream, fly apart and poof. Gone. Bad! Very bad!”
That was something I didn’t know, and Shobi was apparently speaking from experience. “When did you see it happen?”
Shobi’s gaze dropped to the floor. “Masters drop guns. Good Vermins get food. Vermins who use them…”
I sheathed my gun while Felipe’s attention was on the boy, then snapped my fingers twice for both of their attention. “Vermins?” I tried very hard to keep the censure out of my tone, but the way Shobi’s head dipped low, I hadn’t been overly successful.
I watched Shobi patting himself on the chest while his other hand squeezed Felipe’s wrist. He then pointed out Milo, Thalien, Lanna and Tarq before he stopped and stared hard at Shay-Lee since our resident half-elf looked more human except for her slightly pointed ears.
“Her too,” I growled, for again, his twisted worldview confirmed much. Vermins? I would not show these Consitor dogs any mercy at all. The extent of my mercy went to how quickly that ship of theirs was destroyed. I saw Felipe’s jaw clench and knew we were of the same mind there.
“Alright,” I said, releasing the breath I hadn’t realised I’d been holding. “This is how we’re going to proceed. Felipe, you bring up to speed only those who were at that first meeting in Tetorli. I’ll come with you and erect another opaque sound blister so their various reactions won’t be seen by others. Thalien, you and Lanna go to Gimweren and speak to those she had at that same meeting. We’ll reconvene here after that, and Shobi can tell us what we need to know about getting into Jinis Ridge.”
I waited just long enough for everyone to agree to my directions, then continued, “This will be the first time we’ll have information on what’s going on inside Jinis Ridge, but Shobi is young and clearly exhausted, so we won’t be pushing him too hard for details tonight. We’ll get what we can and pick it up again in the morning, but not before you and Gimweren spread the word that we’ll be camping an extra day here.”
“We’re only a day’s ride from Cerro Nexo,” Shay Lee quickly argued. “Why not ride there with him and have this discussion with the elves too?”
Thalien hummed in agreement, and in fairness, I could see the merits of their argument. Ironically, ten years ago, I’d have done just that and to hell with what the boy had endured. “Because I’m not about to force this young man back towards the one place he’s just killed himself to escape from. He got this far all by himself, and although I plan on winning this war, there will be casualties. He will NOT be amongst them. We’ll draw all the information we can from him, and then we’ll get him the hell out of here.”
I felt Shobi’s eyes on me, and when I turned, Felipe had his hand on the boy’s shoulder, squeezing gently. “Is that what you wish? To be safe, far, far from here?” he asked. Shobi nodded so hard I thought his neck was going to snap. “Very well. I have fighters outside. Many men and women who will die to protect you. Once you’ve told us everything you can about your …err… where you were,” —like me, Felipe would rather gargle crushed glass than speak of the slave pits to Shobi— “They’ll take you far away, to our home in the south. Thousands of us are there. You’ve been so brave to come this far, and I promise you, with everything in me and our people, you’ll never be alone again.”
Tears welled in Shobi’s eyes, and without warning, he lurched forward and wrapped his arms around Felipe’s neck, burying his face against his throat. Felipe tipped backwards under the unexpected impact, but Tarq’s reflexes had him standing behind the snow half-orc chief, supporting Felipe’s back with his legs.
The second blanket fell away at the sudden movement, reminding me he was dressed only in a leather loincloth. Felipe closed his eyes and angled his head against Shobi’s, curling his arms around the younger man’s trembling body. Now and again, his hand would travel up to Shobi’s back to cup his shaved head, only to change direction before coming into contact with the brand.
I stared at Felipe’s clothing, knowing there weren’t any class distinctions between him and what his people wore, and commanded the dust dots to create an exact copy of it in Shobi’s size. Truthfully, I should’ve done this before, but better late than never. Included in that order were the boots and whatever passed for snow half-orc underwear. Yes, it would mean every nick, tear and stain in the chief’s clothes would be replicated in the smaller size, but better that than botching something more fundamental.
The dust dots whirled, creating something from nothing until they had everything piled neatly on my outstretched hand. Except for the boots on top, the dots had even gone to the trouble of putting it in the order that it would be donned.
Poor Shobi had never worn clothes, and as soon as Felipe pulled each piece into place, the boy tugged and picked at the hems and seams. He was delighted to be rid of the loincloth, though. That he threw straight into the fire.
I tried very hard not to react to something like that and our food being within the same proximity. At least it had been cleaned, thanks to Lanna; otherwise, we’d probably all be gagging on the stench that would quickly follow.
The boots were the most challenging thing for him to adapt to. His ankles rolled with each step, and sheer pride kept him upright. “They pinch my toes,” he complained to Felipe, his new hero.
“Your toes have spread from not wearing shoes. Even now, look,” the big man explained, putting his booted foot down beside Shobi’s. “Yours are wider in the toe than mine because those boots were made specifically for you. They fit fine.”
Shobi squinted, realising his were at least an inch wider, despite the rest of the boot being two-thirds of Felipe’s. Shobi’s feet were more like that of a regular half-orc, probably for the same reason.
When Felipe and I went to leave to speak to the other snow half-orcs, Shobi clung to Felipe’s hand and all but wrapped himself around the chief’s arm. Nothing either of us said could convince him to let go.
“My people will not be happy to learn you have been treated like an animal,” Felipe tried to explain for the hundredth time. “I don’t want them to frighten you when they start throwing things to vent their anger.”
“You be here?” Shobi asked, somehow interlocking their fingers even as he pointed to where Chief Felipe stood.
“Of course.”
“I hide behind you.”
Felipe snorted, and I had to smirk as well. That wasn’t precisely what Felipe had meant, but it seemed Shobi had chosen himself a champion. “Nothing untoward will ever touch you again as long as I breathe, boy. Count on that.”
Shobi pressed his forehead into Felipe’s upper bicep, and Felipe’s jaw tensed as our eyes met, both of us silently wishing we could purge all that had happened to the youngster. It didn’t take a genius to realise it would take magic and a crowbar to separate them, either.
“Okay,” I said, coming up with a new plan on the fly. I hid my hand inside my jacket and had the dust dots craft me a quilted coif in Shobi’s size, having it appear in my hidden hand. From there, I went over to the boy and slid it over his head to hide his brand, and when his head lifted to see what I was doing, I tied the strings under his chin. “Leave that on,” I said as he went to touch the fabric. My eyes then went to Felipe. “Once those at this meeting have seen the brand, Thalien and Milo will remove the boy and repair his scalp. Time will grow his hair out, but at least he won’t have that brand beyond tonight.”
I put my hand on Shobi’s cheek and guided his face to look at me. “Have you ever seen a half-orc in a rage? When they get really, really mad?” I didn’t care how much he clung to Felipe. If this were all too new for him and the sight of his own people raging frightened him, I’d have Harmony put the boy to sleep for a few minutes while we were away.
Shobi nodded. “Sportsday.”
I really didn’t want to know what he meant by that. “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather stay here with Harmony and Liab?”
Shobi looked past me to where Harmony and her familiar sat, watching. I took the tightening grip on Felipe’s arm to mean ‘No’.
“Alright then,” I said, waving them both towards the opening. “Let’s do this.”
The snow half-orcs reacted as well as I expected, but an hour later, I had fifteen of one race and sixteen of the other sitting inside our dome. The line of myself and my friends with our backs to our fire was no different to that night in Tetorli, though this time, Felipe sat directly across from me instead of on my right. Shobi sat on his feet, his shins flush to the ground and his weight leaning sideways against Felipe. More interestingly, Felipe had draped his braid across Shobi’s shoulders with the weighted end pooled possessively in the boy’s lap. The way Shobi’s other hand caressed the braid and smiled shyly at those around him, he was nervous, but Felipe’s presence made him feel safe.
I couldn’t help but look to my left where Tarq stood, knowing that feeling very well.
“Let us see it,” Gimweren commanded, flicking her finger at the youngster.
“Do not bark orders at him, Overseer,” Felipe warned. “It is only through his bravery that you are now aware that they could very well have the young of your kind in there as slaves too.”
“They do,” Shobi answered, looking up at his hero. “They have all vermins.”
Gimweren met Felipe’s eyes, but then she drew in a deep breath and held it for several seconds before dipping her head in a silent nod. I noticed several of the warriors on both sides had dragged their hands through the frozen ground to control their tempers, partially due to the boy’s presence but also because they were under my roof, which was where they wanted to stay. “Alright, lad. When you’re ready, please take off the coif and twist around so we can see what those animals did to you.”
Even though I’d seen it before, looking at the seared flesh and burnt bone, my stomach roiled, and no less than three dwarves rose to their feet. “Boy,” they all shouted at once. If it weren’t for the concern in their eyes, I would’ve ordered them back to their seats.
“Shobi,” Felipe corrected.
“Shobi,” the dwarf closest to me repeated while the other two retook their seats in deference to him. “Would you allow me to fix that for you right now? I’m Overseer Gimweren’s personal defence mage. Do you know what that is?”
Shobi leaned harder against Felipe and shook his head.
“Among other things, I’m a magical healer, and I’m begging you to let me take that scar away. Please?”
Shobi looked at me, and when I rolled my hand to give him the choice, he looked up at Felipe. “They won’t hurt you, son,” he promised.
The son part was new.
“I’m assuming no one needs to see it again?” the male defence mage ran his eye along both sides, almost daring anyone to argue with him. Unsurprisingly, no one did. The dwarf then moved to stand directly in front of Shobi and knelt in front of him.
We all waited while the defence mage completed the sequence that would make the dust dots repair the physical damage. It only took a minute. “There,” he said with a smile, reaching forward to touch the back of Shobi’s head. I couldn’t see Shobi’s reaction since the dwarf stood between us, but I could picture it, especially when the defence mage continued on. “The snow half-orcs have always looked after their own, but you have my vow now to add to that. Anyone who comes at you must go through me first.”
“AYE!” “Hear, hear!” the line of dwarves cried in unison. Even Gimweren added her shout to the cry.
I looked back at my friends and saw Harmony and Lanna clasping their hands to their chests, both fighting the tears that banked in their eyes, and I could appreciate the sentiment. The boy had won the respect and loyalty of not one army but two.
For the next hour, Shobi told us in his limited dialect about his life in the slave pits of Jinis Ridge. Many of his explanations required physical prompting when words failed him, but no one spoke to contradict or interrupt him. If he was to be believed, he wasn’t a captured prisoner turned slave like I thought. He’d been born in the pits from parents who’d been brought together for the specific purpose of breeding.
And as I listened to his tale, I thought about our own slave trade and realised his story probably wasn’t that different to so many others. The palace didn’t have slaves; only a few of the capital’s population kept them, but they weren’t outlawed.
In fact, people in certain provinces made good coin peddling in flesh. I myself had parted with a significant sum of money to buy Harmony’s freedom when she’d been taken, and I hadn’t thought to ask myself why I had even allowed it to happen in the first place. The slaves were former citizens whose citizenship was stripped from them by others who were only citizens themselves. A collar and a brand were all that separated an imperial citizen and a slave, and we had allowed that to happen.
No … I had allowed that to happen.
It was a startling wake-up call to realise the only difference between the two types of slavers was their place of origin. That if the Consitors were Imperials, we wouldn’t be so up in arms about them enslaving people.
I glanced at where Felipe sat protectively at Shobi’s side and knew I had to amend that. The snow half-orcs were the exception. No one had ever taken a snow half-orc as a slave before that I knew of.
I felt a hand on each of my shoulders and knew without looking that one belonged to Harmony and the other to Milo. Tarq always knew what I was thinking, but those two had the uncanny knack of knowing instinctively what I was feeling, and right then, it wasn’t good. I hadn’t protected all of my people—only some of them.
When this was all over, I knew I’d be discussing this at length with Roald, and I wouldn’t stop until he agreed to make a proclamation outlawing slavery within our borders. Some livelihoods would suffer, but on the whole, we didn’t need slaves. They were simply convenient. Buying someone outright instead of paying a daily wage was easier.
Depending on how wound up I got, I might even push for a total ban on slaves within the empire, including any overseas visitors.
Leave them home, or watch them be taken from you and freed.
I liked the sound of that.
Perhaps I was getting too emotionally invested, but what was the point of being the Emperor’s Shadow if I couldn’t do what should’ve already been done to safeguard not just the majority of my people but each and every imperial citizen? Slaves, before they were enslaved, would have paid their taxes too, which should have given them certain protections, and I had seriously fallen down on the job there.
Not anymore.
* * *
((All comments welcome. Good or bad, I'd love to hear your thoughts 🥰🤗 ))
For more of my work including WPs: Angel466 or an index of previous WPS here.
FULL INDEX OF WE PLAN, GODS LAUGH TO DATE CAN BE FOUND HERE!!
2023.06.10 09:28 UzairU1 The elevator at my office stopped between the first and second floor
I used to work at a reputable audit company. Those familiar with me will recognize the company. I'm certain my colleagues will come across this on Reddit, as I've seen them browse the site during office hours.
It's been approximately two days since the incident, and I can't shake the feeling of being watched. Each passing night, the shadows in my room seem to grow darker and have more substance. I fear I'm losing my sanity.
My fellow coworkers, as you read this, I'm uncertain if I'll still be alive. However, please, heed my warning. You must put an end to this curse before it's too late.
It happened on the night of June 23rd. It was around 11 PM, and anyone passing by the office building would have noticed that only the lights on the third floor were on. My colleague Awais and I were the only ones working late, as we had an upcoming deadline and, thus, had some unfinished tasks. It wouldn't be fair to solely blame us for the delay, as our client had taken their sweet time in providing the necessary data. Such was the life of an auditor.
My fingers glided across the keyboard of my laptop, the sound of typing echoed through the empty floor. Both of us were surviving on caffeine at this point, evident from the scattered paper cups on the table.
In the midst of entering an Excel formula, a faint scraping sound caught my attention. I had paused briefly to double-check my calculations, and that's when I heard it. As soon as I paid attention to it, it abruptly stopped. I looked up from my laptop, surveying the dimly lit office, but found no source for the sound. Awais, sitting to my right, seemed too busy with his work to notice. Shaking my head, I returned to my tasks, convinced that I had simply imagined it. However, as I looked back at the laptop screen, the scraping noise resumed, faint but distinct.
I immediately stood up, and once again, the sound stopped. I scanned the room and heard Awais making a strange noise. I turned toward him, and he burst into laughter.
"Bruh, you should have seen your face," Awais said, struggling to contain his amusement.
"Dude, that scared the hell out of me. Don't pull such pranks when we're up against a deadline."
"Yeah, yeah. You definitely need some sleep. You're losing it right now."
"I'll get some rest once I finish this," I replied, plopping back into my chair and letting out a sigh.
"I hate my job."
"Not much longer, right? This is our last day. Do you think our replacements will be able to complete this?"
"Probably. We gave them a thorough briefing about the work earlier."
I looked at Awais, and he slowly closed his laptop.
"You're leaving, huh?"
"I have a lot on my mind right now. I need to take a step back."
"Sure, I'll probably leave in a few minutes as well. You go ahead."
Awais started gathering his belongings, and in the midst of packing, he asked, "Have you heard from Asjad Bashir? He left the company a week ago, and we haven't heard a word from him."
"Same here. I've tried contacting him multiple times, but his phone was turned off."
"You think it's related to that rumored curse?"
"Nonsense. Do you believe in such things?"
"I don't, but lately, it seems more than just a rumor, doesn't it? They say those who leave the company vanish."
"Asjad not answering our calls would definitely have a logical explanation, rather than some absurd curse. He did say that his phone was causing all sorts of problems before he left"
"Sure, but what about Sarah and Ahmed?"
"They both had plans to move to China, so it's possible that they haven't had a chance to reach out to us yet."
"Junaid, it's been three months, and Ahmed, your work buddy, hasn't even contacted you."
"I understand that his silence is bothering you, but I have faith that he will eventually get in touch with us."
Awais didn't seem satisfied with my response. He stared blankly at the vacant office space.
"Don't worry about anything. You'll be fine. That rumor is just a tactic to keep us in the company," I assured him, giving his shoulder a pat.
"I want to believe that too. Anyway, I'm leaving now. Let's grab lunch sometime and talk shit about this company again," Awais said weakly, letting out a faint laugh.
"Sure thing, buddy."
We shook hands firmly, and Awais picked up his bag, heading towards the elevator. The doors closed, plunging the space into darkness once again, I returned to my desk and resumed my work.
About 20 minutes later, I stretched my arms.
"Man, the newbies are going to have a field day with this assignment."
I closed my laptop, preparing to pack up. I gathered the empty paper cups and tossed them into the nearby bin.
As I stood by the elevator, I took one last glance at the empty office.
"Never thought I'd witness this day, especially not after four years of being here."
With that, I stepped into the elevator. The doors closed, and the descent began, the floor numbers gradually ticking down from three.
Surprisingly, the elevator jolted and came to a sudden stop.
"Well, that was quicker than expected," I muttered.
I looked at the elevator panel, only to find the lower portion of "2" and the upper portion of "1".
"What in the world?"
Realizing that the doors hadn't opened, I pressed the buttons and attempted to force them apart, but to no avail. Of all the times, it had to be today. I decided to call the security guard, Kashif, I picked up my phone, and at that moment, the elevator doors opened.
Before me lay a dark corridor, without a single light. Glancing back at the panel, I noticed that it still displayed the same numbers. I tapped the panel and pressed the buttons, but nothing happened.
Letting out a sigh, I adjusted the strap of my bag and stepped out of the elevator. As soon as I did, the doors closed shut. I turned around, only to see the elevator panel indicating that it was descending to the ground level.
"You've got to be kidding me."
I found myself in an unfamiliar corridor. It didn't match any floor layout I was familiar with. With my phone's flashlight activated, I cautiously proceeded forward, noticing a partially open door a few meters away. In a final desperate attempt, I pushed the elevator button, but it remained fixed on the ground level. Admitting defeat, I slowly approached the door.
Carefully, I pushed the door open, my body on high alert for reasons I couldn't quite understand. Illuminating the room with my phone's light, I discovered empty workstations and chairs. I scanned the area, moving the light from one corner to another. In all my four years at the company, I had never seen this room before. I searched for a light switch, however, there were none, and I realized there were no windows either. Odd.
The only sound that came in the room was the sound of rushing air from the ventilation system. As I approached the first workstation, I noticed the name "Akhtar Ali" taped to the desk, accompanied by a photo of a man in his late thirties, I assumed the man in was Akhtar. Strangely enough, I had never seen or met him in the office before. I directed my flashlight towards the adjacent desk, where the name 'Parveen Nabil' was written—a name I had never heard in the office either.
Something felt off. I hurriedly passed by each table, each taped with a name tag and a picture of the person assigned to it. As I approached the end of the table, a particular name caught my attention. There was no mistaking it. Moving closer, I confirmed that 'Asjad Bashir' was written there, accompanied by a picture taken on his last day of work.
I took a step back from the table, feeling uneasy at what I had just looked at. Did the office maintain some bizarre memorial for all the staff members who had left? It sounded absurd, but that's exactly what was before me.
There were two desks next to Asjad's. I moved towards it, making me shiver at what I saw. The desks had mine and Awais' names taped on. What's more shocking was that the picture of either of us was the ones we took a couple of hours ago, when everyone had left.
"What in the world is going on? This is madness," I muttered.
I knew I had to leave. Something was severely wrong. At the far end of the room, there was another door. I approached it and cautiously opened it. Immediately, a horrendous, rotting smell invaded my nostrils, nearly causing me to throw up. Covering my nose, I took a step forward but tripped over something and stumbled to the floor. In the process, my phone was thrown a few feet away, its light illuminating the room. As I slowly rose, I noticed an arm lying next to my feet. Startled, I stood up, only to be confronted with a horrifying sight.
The floor was covered in dried blood, and several hooks with chains dangled from the ceiling. Lifeless bodies hung from those hooks, each with their mouths impaled on a hook. Limbs were strewn across the floor, as every body had been gruesomely dismembered.
I began to hyperventilate. What in God's name was I witnessing? This was sheer madness. Trembling, I reached for my phone, and as I retrieved it, I recognized the first body—the resemblance was unmistakable, it was Asjad Bashir. The corpse had decomposed slightly, but the face was still recognizable.
Three rooms stood at the end of the room, one of which was illuminated. I hurriedly made my way toward it, peeking through the doors' small window. Inside, a huge, obese man stood, easily seven feet tall and weighing over 500 pounds. His body was covered in scars and stitches, with a prominent red scar across his bald head. Gripping a massive meat cleaver, he was busy dismembering a lifeless figure on a table before him. With each strike, limbs fell off, and blood sprayed in all directions. I couldn't see the face of the body from my position.
"Gotta love it when the little fishy walks right into my hands," he chuckled, his voice hoarse.
Shocked and terrified, I stepped away from the door, realizing I needed to escape this place.
I heard movement in the room and quickly ducked into the next room. Just as I slightly closed the door behind me, the man emerged. Although I couldn't see what he was doing, I heard the sound of chains rattling and the piercing of flesh.
Footsteps echoed again, and it seemed the man was leaving. The footsteps halted, followed by the man sniffing the air, chuckling with delight.
"Oh boy, oh boy, looks like another little fishy was wandering around here. I do love me some good hide and seek."
With that, it sounded like he exited the slaughter room and entered the memorial room. Gathering my courage, I left the room I had hidden in, refraining from using my phone's flashlight to avoid being spotted. I used the light coming from the butcher's room to navigate my way to the butcher's room.
The room was a blood-splattered chaos. In the center stood a large table, with limbs on it from the previous victim. I frantically searched the room for a key, a button, anything that could help me escape.
But there was nothing. Overwhelmed with despair, I collapsed onto the floor.
"I don't want to die. I don't want to die."
All hope seemed lost. That monster was sure to return any minute and kill me. At that moment, I noticed a large finger hanging on a cleaver keychain from one of the walls. I got up and grabbed it.
Then, I heard the door behind me creak open, and I felt a force pulling me upright.
"Well, well, the little fishy has strayed too far from the fishing net."
I turned and saw one of the ugliest faces I had ever seen, grinning at me. I struggled to break free from his grip, but he was too strong.
"Oh, the little fishy is putting up a fight? I do love me some strong fish."
He flashed a toothy grin and threw me onto the table. Placing his enormous hand on my neck, he began to strangle me.
"Now, playtime is over, fishy. Please die for me and create the music of death."
He brought his face closer to mine, a sadistic smile spreading across his lips. I clawed at his hands, but his grip tightened. I gasped for air and that made the man laugh.
"Give me more music fish."
Summoning my last ounce of strength, I clenched the cleaver keychain tightly and drove it into his eye with all my might.
The man howled in agony and stumbled back. Coughing and gasping for air, I scrambled to my feet. With one goal in mind to escape, I sprinted out of the room.
"You piece of shit! I'll skin you alive!" roared the butcher.
I took out my phone and illuminated my path with its light. Hastily finding the door to the memorial room, I entered it. The room was now a mess, with overturned tables. I didn't have much time to assess the full extent of the butcher's rampage. I exited the memorial room, rushed down the corridor, and reached the elevator.
Frantically pressing the buttons, I received no response. "Come on, come on!"
Despite multiple attempts, the elevator remained motionless. I heard a loud explosion behind me, signaling that the man had entered the memorial room. Ready to give up, I remembered the giant finger I had picked up. I decided to use it to press the elevator button, and to my relief, the elevator started moving up.
The elevator doors opened and with that, the memorial room doors as well. The light from the elevator shone in the corridor and I saw him running towards me.
"Get here, you little fish."
He raised his cleaver and hurled it towards me. I used the finger and pressed the ground level. The doors closed, stopping the cleaver from impaling me.
The elevator descended and stopped at the ground level.
The doors opened, revealing the reception area of the office, with the security guard Kashif sitting there. As he saw me, he quickly stood and approached.
"What happened to you? You're a complete mess, and what's with all the blood?" he asked, bewildered.
"There... I... He..." I struggled to form any words.
With that, I bolted out of the front door. I ran and ran, not even bothering to call a taxi. I needed to distance myself from that place and everything I had witnessed.
I reached my house in no time as I didn't live too far from the office, I locked all the doors and hid in my room. I don't know how, but somehow I managed to fall asleep. The next morning, I attempted to call Awais, but received no response. I tried calling the security guard, Kashif, but his phone was powered off. Each number I attempted to call yielded the same result—no connection.
During all this confusion, I noticed a text message notification on my phone. It was from Awais, sent to me just after he left the office last night. The message read:
"Junaid, what the hell is going on in this office? Why the hell are there dead bodies being kept here?"
submitted by UzairU1 to creepypasta [link] [comments]
It's been approximately two days since the incident, and I can't shake the feeling of being watched. Each passing night, the shadows in my room seem to grow darker and have more substance. I fear I'm losing my sanity.
My fellow coworkers, as you read this, I'm uncertain if I'll still be alive. However, please, heed my warning. You must put an end to this curse before it's too late.
It happened on the night of June 23rd. It was around 11 PM, and anyone passing by the office building would have noticed that only the lights on the third floor were on. My colleague Awais and I were the only ones working late, as we had an upcoming deadline and, thus, had some unfinished tasks. It wouldn't be fair to solely blame us for the delay, as our client had taken their sweet time in providing the necessary data. Such was the life of an auditor.
My fingers glided across the keyboard of my laptop, the sound of typing echoed through the empty floor. Both of us were surviving on caffeine at this point, evident from the scattered paper cups on the table.
In the midst of entering an Excel formula, a faint scraping sound caught my attention. I had paused briefly to double-check my calculations, and that's when I heard it. As soon as I paid attention to it, it abruptly stopped. I looked up from my laptop, surveying the dimly lit office, but found no source for the sound. Awais, sitting to my right, seemed too busy with his work to notice. Shaking my head, I returned to my tasks, convinced that I had simply imagined it. However, as I looked back at the laptop screen, the scraping noise resumed, faint but distinct.
I immediately stood up, and once again, the sound stopped. I scanned the room and heard Awais making a strange noise. I turned toward him, and he burst into laughter.
"Bruh, you should have seen your face," Awais said, struggling to contain his amusement.
"Dude, that scared the hell out of me. Don't pull such pranks when we're up against a deadline."
"Yeah, yeah. You definitely need some sleep. You're losing it right now."
"I'll get some rest once I finish this," I replied, plopping back into my chair and letting out a sigh.
"I hate my job."
"Not much longer, right? This is our last day. Do you think our replacements will be able to complete this?"
"Probably. We gave them a thorough briefing about the work earlier."
I looked at Awais, and he slowly closed his laptop.
"You're leaving, huh?"
"I have a lot on my mind right now. I need to take a step back."
"Sure, I'll probably leave in a few minutes as well. You go ahead."
Awais started gathering his belongings, and in the midst of packing, he asked, "Have you heard from Asjad Bashir? He left the company a week ago, and we haven't heard a word from him."
"Same here. I've tried contacting him multiple times, but his phone was turned off."
"You think it's related to that rumored curse?"
"Nonsense. Do you believe in such things?"
"I don't, but lately, it seems more than just a rumor, doesn't it? They say those who leave the company vanish."
"Asjad not answering our calls would definitely have a logical explanation, rather than some absurd curse. He did say that his phone was causing all sorts of problems before he left"
"Sure, but what about Sarah and Ahmed?"
"They both had plans to move to China, so it's possible that they haven't had a chance to reach out to us yet."
"Junaid, it's been three months, and Ahmed, your work buddy, hasn't even contacted you."
"I understand that his silence is bothering you, but I have faith that he will eventually get in touch with us."
Awais didn't seem satisfied with my response. He stared blankly at the vacant office space.
"Don't worry about anything. You'll be fine. That rumor is just a tactic to keep us in the company," I assured him, giving his shoulder a pat.
"I want to believe that too. Anyway, I'm leaving now. Let's grab lunch sometime and talk shit about this company again," Awais said weakly, letting out a faint laugh.
"Sure thing, buddy."
We shook hands firmly, and Awais picked up his bag, heading towards the elevator. The doors closed, plunging the space into darkness once again, I returned to my desk and resumed my work.
About 20 minutes later, I stretched my arms.
"Man, the newbies are going to have a field day with this assignment."
I closed my laptop, preparing to pack up. I gathered the empty paper cups and tossed them into the nearby bin.
As I stood by the elevator, I took one last glance at the empty office.
"Never thought I'd witness this day, especially not after four years of being here."
With that, I stepped into the elevator. The doors closed, and the descent began, the floor numbers gradually ticking down from three.
Surprisingly, the elevator jolted and came to a sudden stop.
"Well, that was quicker than expected," I muttered.
I looked at the elevator panel, only to find the lower portion of "2" and the upper portion of "1".
"What in the world?"
Realizing that the doors hadn't opened, I pressed the buttons and attempted to force them apart, but to no avail. Of all the times, it had to be today. I decided to call the security guard, Kashif, I picked up my phone, and at that moment, the elevator doors opened.
Before me lay a dark corridor, without a single light. Glancing back at the panel, I noticed that it still displayed the same numbers. I tapped the panel and pressed the buttons, but nothing happened.
Letting out a sigh, I adjusted the strap of my bag and stepped out of the elevator. As soon as I did, the doors closed shut. I turned around, only to see the elevator panel indicating that it was descending to the ground level.
"You've got to be kidding me."
I found myself in an unfamiliar corridor. It didn't match any floor layout I was familiar with. With my phone's flashlight activated, I cautiously proceeded forward, noticing a partially open door a few meters away. In a final desperate attempt, I pushed the elevator button, but it remained fixed on the ground level. Admitting defeat, I slowly approached the door.
Carefully, I pushed the door open, my body on high alert for reasons I couldn't quite understand. Illuminating the room with my phone's light, I discovered empty workstations and chairs. I scanned the area, moving the light from one corner to another. In all my four years at the company, I had never seen this room before. I searched for a light switch, however, there were none, and I realized there were no windows either. Odd.
The only sound that came in the room was the sound of rushing air from the ventilation system. As I approached the first workstation, I noticed the name "Akhtar Ali" taped to the desk, accompanied by a photo of a man in his late thirties, I assumed the man in was Akhtar. Strangely enough, I had never seen or met him in the office before. I directed my flashlight towards the adjacent desk, where the name 'Parveen Nabil' was written—a name I had never heard in the office either.
Something felt off. I hurriedly passed by each table, each taped with a name tag and a picture of the person assigned to it. As I approached the end of the table, a particular name caught my attention. There was no mistaking it. Moving closer, I confirmed that 'Asjad Bashir' was written there, accompanied by a picture taken on his last day of work.
I took a step back from the table, feeling uneasy at what I had just looked at. Did the office maintain some bizarre memorial for all the staff members who had left? It sounded absurd, but that's exactly what was before me.
There were two desks next to Asjad's. I moved towards it, making me shiver at what I saw. The desks had mine and Awais' names taped on. What's more shocking was that the picture of either of us was the ones we took a couple of hours ago, when everyone had left.
"What in the world is going on? This is madness," I muttered.
I knew I had to leave. Something was severely wrong. At the far end of the room, there was another door. I approached it and cautiously opened it. Immediately, a horrendous, rotting smell invaded my nostrils, nearly causing me to throw up. Covering my nose, I took a step forward but tripped over something and stumbled to the floor. In the process, my phone was thrown a few feet away, its light illuminating the room. As I slowly rose, I noticed an arm lying next to my feet. Startled, I stood up, only to be confronted with a horrifying sight.
The floor was covered in dried blood, and several hooks with chains dangled from the ceiling. Lifeless bodies hung from those hooks, each with their mouths impaled on a hook. Limbs were strewn across the floor, as every body had been gruesomely dismembered.
I began to hyperventilate. What in God's name was I witnessing? This was sheer madness. Trembling, I reached for my phone, and as I retrieved it, I recognized the first body—the resemblance was unmistakable, it was Asjad Bashir. The corpse had decomposed slightly, but the face was still recognizable.
Three rooms stood at the end of the room, one of which was illuminated. I hurriedly made my way toward it, peeking through the doors' small window. Inside, a huge, obese man stood, easily seven feet tall and weighing over 500 pounds. His body was covered in scars and stitches, with a prominent red scar across his bald head. Gripping a massive meat cleaver, he was busy dismembering a lifeless figure on a table before him. With each strike, limbs fell off, and blood sprayed in all directions. I couldn't see the face of the body from my position.
"Gotta love it when the little fishy walks right into my hands," he chuckled, his voice hoarse.
Shocked and terrified, I stepped away from the door, realizing I needed to escape this place.
I heard movement in the room and quickly ducked into the next room. Just as I slightly closed the door behind me, the man emerged. Although I couldn't see what he was doing, I heard the sound of chains rattling and the piercing of flesh.
Footsteps echoed again, and it seemed the man was leaving. The footsteps halted, followed by the man sniffing the air, chuckling with delight.
"Oh boy, oh boy, looks like another little fishy was wandering around here. I do love me some good hide and seek."
With that, it sounded like he exited the slaughter room and entered the memorial room. Gathering my courage, I left the room I had hidden in, refraining from using my phone's flashlight to avoid being spotted. I used the light coming from the butcher's room to navigate my way to the butcher's room.
The room was a blood-splattered chaos. In the center stood a large table, with limbs on it from the previous victim. I frantically searched the room for a key, a button, anything that could help me escape.
But there was nothing. Overwhelmed with despair, I collapsed onto the floor.
"I don't want to die. I don't want to die."
All hope seemed lost. That monster was sure to return any minute and kill me. At that moment, I noticed a large finger hanging on a cleaver keychain from one of the walls. I got up and grabbed it.
Then, I heard the door behind me creak open, and I felt a force pulling me upright.
"Well, well, the little fishy has strayed too far from the fishing net."
I turned and saw one of the ugliest faces I had ever seen, grinning at me. I struggled to break free from his grip, but he was too strong.
"Oh, the little fishy is putting up a fight? I do love me some strong fish."
He flashed a toothy grin and threw me onto the table. Placing his enormous hand on my neck, he began to strangle me.
"Now, playtime is over, fishy. Please die for me and create the music of death."
He brought his face closer to mine, a sadistic smile spreading across his lips. I clawed at his hands, but his grip tightened. I gasped for air and that made the man laugh.
"Give me more music fish."
Summoning my last ounce of strength, I clenched the cleaver keychain tightly and drove it into his eye with all my might.
The man howled in agony and stumbled back. Coughing and gasping for air, I scrambled to my feet. With one goal in mind to escape, I sprinted out of the room.
"You piece of shit! I'll skin you alive!" roared the butcher.
I took out my phone and illuminated my path with its light. Hastily finding the door to the memorial room, I entered it. The room was now a mess, with overturned tables. I didn't have much time to assess the full extent of the butcher's rampage. I exited the memorial room, rushed down the corridor, and reached the elevator.
Frantically pressing the buttons, I received no response. "Come on, come on!"
Despite multiple attempts, the elevator remained motionless. I heard a loud explosion behind me, signaling that the man had entered the memorial room. Ready to give up, I remembered the giant finger I had picked up. I decided to use it to press the elevator button, and to my relief, the elevator started moving up.
The elevator doors opened and with that, the memorial room doors as well. The light from the elevator shone in the corridor and I saw him running towards me.
"Get here, you little fish."
He raised his cleaver and hurled it towards me. I used the finger and pressed the ground level. The doors closed, stopping the cleaver from impaling me.
The elevator descended and stopped at the ground level.
The doors opened, revealing the reception area of the office, with the security guard Kashif sitting there. As he saw me, he quickly stood and approached.
"What happened to you? You're a complete mess, and what's with all the blood?" he asked, bewildered.
"There... I... He..." I struggled to form any words.
With that, I bolted out of the front door. I ran and ran, not even bothering to call a taxi. I needed to distance myself from that place and everything I had witnessed.
I reached my house in no time as I didn't live too far from the office, I locked all the doors and hid in my room. I don't know how, but somehow I managed to fall asleep. The next morning, I attempted to call Awais, but received no response. I tried calling the security guard, Kashif, but his phone was powered off. Each number I attempted to call yielded the same result—no connection.
During all this confusion, I noticed a text message notification on my phone. It was from Awais, sent to me just after he left the office last night. The message read:
"Junaid, what the hell is going on in this office? Why the hell are there dead bodies being kept here?"
2023.06.10 09:27 UzairU1 The elevator at my office stopped between the first and second floor
I used to work at a reputable audit company. Those familiar with me will recognize the company. I'm certain my colleagues will come across this on Reddit, as I've seen them browse the site during office hours.
It's been approximately two days since the incident, and I can't shake the feeling of being watched. Each passing night, the shadows in my room seem to grow darker and have more substance. I fear I'm losing my sanity.
My fellow coworkers, as you read this, I'm uncertain if I'll still be alive. However, please, heed my warning. You must put an end to this curse before it's too late.
It happened on the night of June 23rd. It was around 11 PM, and anyone passing by the office building would have noticed that only the lights on the third floor were on. My colleague Awais and I were the only ones working late, as we had an upcoming deadline and, thus, had some unfinished tasks. It wouldn't be fair to solely blame us for the delay, as our client had taken their sweet time in providing the necessary data. Such was the life of an auditor.
My fingers glided across the keyboard of my laptop, the sound of typing echoed through the empty floor. Both of us were surviving on caffeine at this point, evident from the scattered paper cups on the table.
In the midst of entering an Excel formula, a faint scraping sound caught my attention. I had paused briefly to double-check my calculations, and that's when I heard it. As soon as I paid attention to it, it abruptly stopped. I looked up from my laptop, surveying the dimly lit office, but found no source for the sound. Awais, sitting to my right, seemed too busy with his work to notice. Shaking my head, I returned to my tasks, convinced that I had simply imagined it. However, as I looked back at the laptop screen, the scraping noise resumed, faint but distinct.
I immediately stood up, and once again, the sound stopped. I scanned the room and heard Awais making a strange noise. I turned toward him, and he burst into laughter.
"Bruh, you should have seen your face," Awais said, struggling to contain his amusement.
"Dude, that scared the hell out of me. Don't pull such pranks when we're up against a deadline."
"Yeah, yeah. You definitely need some sleep. You're losing it right now."
"I'll get some rest once I finish this," I replied, plopping back into my chair and letting out a sigh.
"I hate my job."
"Not much longer, right? This is our last day. Do you think our replacements will be able to complete this?"
"Probably. We gave them a thorough briefing about the work earlier."
I looked at Awais, and he slowly closed his laptop.
"You're leaving, huh?"
"I have a lot on my mind right now. I need to take a step back."
"Sure, I'll probably leave in a few minutes as well. You go ahead."
Awais started gathering his belongings, and in the midst of packing, he asked, "Have you heard from Asjad Bashir? He left the company a week ago, and we haven't heard a word from him."
"Same here. I've tried contacting him multiple times, but his phone was turned off."
"You think it's related to that rumored curse?"
"Nonsense. Do you believe in such things?"
"I don't, but lately, it seems more than just a rumor, doesn't it? They say those who leave the company vanish."
"Asjad not answering our calls would definitely have a logical explanation, rather than some absurd curse. He did say that his phone was causing all sorts of problems before he left"
"Sure, but what about Sarah and Ahmed?"
"They both had plans to move to China, so it's possible that they haven't had a chance to reach out to us yet."
"Junaid, it's been three months, and Ahmed, your work buddy, hasn't even contacted you."
"I understand that his silence is bothering you, but I have faith that he will eventually get in touch with us."
Awais didn't seem satisfied with my response. He stared blankly at the vacant office space.
"Don't worry about anything. You'll be fine. That rumor is just a tactic to keep us in the company," I assured him, giving his shoulder a pat.
"I want to believe that too. Anyway, I'm leaving now. Let's grab lunch sometime and talk shit about this company again," Awais said weakly, letting out a faint laugh.
"Sure thing, buddy."
We shook hands firmly, and Awais picked up his bag, heading towards the elevator. The doors closed, plunging the space into darkness once again, I returned to my desk and resumed my work.
About 20 minutes later, I stretched my arms.
"Man, the newbies are going to have a field day with this assignment."
I closed my laptop, preparing to pack up. I gathered the empty paper cups and tossed them into the nearby bin.
As I stood by the elevator, I took one last glance at the empty office.
"Never thought I'd witness this day, especially not after four years of being here."
With that, I stepped into the elevator. The doors closed, and the descent began, the floor numbers gradually ticking down from three.
Surprisingly, the elevator jolted and came to a sudden stop.
"Well, that was quicker than expected," I muttered.
I looked at the elevator panel, only to find the lower portion of "2" and the upper portion of "1".
"What in the world?"
Realizing that the doors hadn't opened, I pressed the buttons and attempted to force them apart, but to no avail. Of all the times, it had to be today. I decided to call the security guard, Kashif, I picked up my phone, and at that moment, the elevator doors opened.
Before me lay a dark corridor, without a single light. Glancing back at the panel, I noticed that it still displayed the same numbers. I tapped the panel and pressed the buttons, but nothing happened.
Letting out a sigh, I adjusted the strap of my bag and stepped out of the elevator. As soon as I did, the doors closed shut. I turned around, only to see the elevator panel indicating that it was descending to the ground level.
"You've got to be kidding me."
I found myself in an unfamiliar corridor. It didn't match any floor layout I was familiar with. With my phone's flashlight activated, I cautiously proceeded forward, noticing a partially open door a few meters away. In a final desperate attempt, I pushed the elevator button, but it remained fixed on the ground level. Admitting defeat, I slowly approached the door.
Carefully, I pushed the door open, my body on high alert for reasons I couldn't quite understand. Illuminating the room with my phone's light, I discovered empty workstations and chairs. I scanned the area, moving the light from one corner to another. In all my four years at the company, I had never seen this room before. I searched for a light switch, however, there were none, and I realized there were no windows either. Odd.
The only sound that came in the room was the sound of rushing air from the ventilation system. As I approached the first workstation, I noticed the name "Akhtar Ali" taped to the desk, accompanied by a photo of a man in his late thirties, I assumed the man in was Akhtar. Strangely enough, I had never seen or met him in the office before. I directed my flashlight towards the adjacent desk, where the name 'Parveen Nabil' was written—a name I had never heard in the office either.
Something felt off. I hurriedly passed by each table, each taped with a name tag and a picture of the person assigned to it. As I approached the end of the table, a particular name caught my attention. There was no mistaking it. Moving closer, I confirmed that 'Asjad Bashir' was written there, accompanied by a picture taken on his last day of work.
I took a step back from the table, feeling uneasy at what I had just looked at. Did the office maintain some bizarre memorial for all the staff members who had left? It sounded absurd, but that's exactly what was before me.
There were two desks next to Asjad's. I moved towards it, making me shiver at what I saw. The desks had mine and Awais' names taped on. What's more shocking was that the picture of either of us was the ones we took a couple of hours ago, when everyone had left.
"What in the world is going on? This is madness," I muttered.
I knew I had to leave. Something was severely wrong. At the far end of the room, there was another door. I approached it and cautiously opened it. Immediately, a horrendous, rotting smell invaded my nostrils, nearly causing me to throw up. Covering my nose, I took a step forward but tripped over something and stumbled to the floor. In the process, my phone was thrown a few feet away, its light illuminating the room. As I slowly rose, I noticed an arm lying next to my feet. Startled, I stood up, only to be confronted with a horrifying sight.
The floor was covered in dried blood, and several hooks with chains dangled from the ceiling. Lifeless bodies hung from those hooks, each with their mouths impaled on a hook. Limbs were strewn across the floor, as every body had been gruesomely dismembered.
I began to hyperventilate. What in God's name was I witnessing? This was sheer madness. Trembling, I reached for my phone, and as I retrieved it, I recognized the first body—the resemblance was unmistakable, it was Asjad Bashir. The corpse had decomposed slightly, but the face was still recognizable.
Three rooms stood at the end of the room, one of which was illuminated. I hurriedly made my way toward it, peeking through the doors' small window. Inside, a huge, obese man stood, easily seven feet tall and weighing over 500 pounds. His body was covered in scars and stitches, with a prominent red scar across his bald head. Gripping a massive meat cleaver, he was busy dismembering a lifeless figure on a table before him. With each strike, limbs fell off, and blood sprayed in all directions. I couldn't see the face of the body from my position.
"Gotta love it when the little fishy walks right into my hands," he chuckled, his voice hoarse.
Shocked and terrified, I stepped away from the door, realizing I needed to escape this place.
I heard movement in the room and quickly ducked into the next room. Just as I slightly closed the door behind me, the man emerged. Although I couldn't see what he was doing, I heard the sound of chains rattling and the piercing of flesh.
Footsteps echoed again, and it seemed the man was leaving. The footsteps halted, followed by the man sniffing the air, chuckling with delight.
"Oh boy, oh boy, looks like another little fishy was wandering around here. I do love me some good hide and seek."
With that, it sounded like he exited the slaughter room and entered the memorial room. Gathering my courage, I left the room I had hidden in, refraining from using my phone's flashlight to avoid being spotted. I used the light coming from the butcher's room to navigate my way to the butcher's room.
The room was a blood-splattered chaos. In the center stood a large table, with limbs on it from the previous victim. I frantically searched the room for a key, a button, anything that could help me escape.
But there was nothing. Overwhelmed with despair, I collapsed onto the floor.
"I don't want to die. I don't want to die."
All hope seemed lost. That monster was sure to return any minute and kill me. At that moment, I noticed a large finger hanging on a cleaver keychain from one of the walls. I got up and grabbed it.
Then, I heard the door behind me creak open, and I felt a force pulling me upright.
"Well, well, the little fishy has strayed too far from the fishing net."
I turned and saw one of the ugliest faces I had ever seen, grinning at me. I struggled to break free from his grip, but he was too strong.
"Oh, the little fishy is putting up a fight? I do love me some strong fish."
He flashed a toothy grin and threw me onto the table. Placing his enormous hand on my neck, he began to strangle me.
"Now, playtime is over, fishy. Please die for me and create the music of death."
He brought his face closer to mine, a sadistic smile spreading across his lips. I clawed at his hands, but his grip tightened. I gasped for air and that made the man laugh.
"Give me more music fish."
Summoning my last ounce of strength, I clenched the cleaver keychain tightly and drove it into his eye with all my might.
The man howled in agony and stumbled back. Coughing and gasping for air, I scrambled to my feet. With one goal in mind to escape, I sprinted out of the room.
"You piece of shit! I'll skin you alive!" roared the butcher.
I took out my phone and illuminated my path with its light. Hastily finding the door to the memorial room, I entered it. The room was now a mess, with overturned tables. I didn't have much time to assess the full extent of the butcher's rampage. I exited the memorial room, rushed down the corridor, and reached the elevator.
Frantically pressing the buttons, I received no response. "Come on, come on!"
Despite multiple attempts, the elevator remained motionless. I heard a loud explosion behind me, signaling that the man had entered the memorial room. Ready to give up, I remembered the giant finger I had picked up. I decided to use it to press the elevator button, and to my relief, the elevator started moving up.
The elevator doors opened and with that, the memorial room doors as well. The light from the elevator shone in the corridor and I saw him running towards me.
"Get here, you little fish."
He raised his cleaver and hurled it towards me. I used the finger and pressed the ground level. The doors closed, stopping the cleaver from impaling me.
The elevator descended and stopped at the ground level.
The doors opened, revealing the reception area of the office, with the security guard Kashif sitting there. As he saw me, he quickly stood and approached.
"What happened to you? You're a complete mess, and what's with all the blood?" he asked, bewildered.
"There... I... He..." I struggled to form any words.
With that, I bolted out of the front door. I ran and ran, not even bothering to call a taxi. I needed to distance myself from that place and everything I had witnessed.
I reached my house in no time as I didn't live too far from the office, I locked all the doors and hid in my room. I don't know how, but somehow I managed to fall asleep. The next morning, I attempted to call Awais, but received no response. I tried calling the security guard, Kashif, but his phone was powered off. Each number I attempted to call yielded the same result—no connection.
During all this confusion, I noticed a text message notification on my phone. It was from Awais, sent to me just after he left the office last night. The message read:
"Junaid, what the hell is going on in this office? Why the hell are there dead bodies being kept here?"
submitted by UzairU1 to nosleep [link] [comments]
It's been approximately two days since the incident, and I can't shake the feeling of being watched. Each passing night, the shadows in my room seem to grow darker and have more substance. I fear I'm losing my sanity.
My fellow coworkers, as you read this, I'm uncertain if I'll still be alive. However, please, heed my warning. You must put an end to this curse before it's too late.
It happened on the night of June 23rd. It was around 11 PM, and anyone passing by the office building would have noticed that only the lights on the third floor were on. My colleague Awais and I were the only ones working late, as we had an upcoming deadline and, thus, had some unfinished tasks. It wouldn't be fair to solely blame us for the delay, as our client had taken their sweet time in providing the necessary data. Such was the life of an auditor.
My fingers glided across the keyboard of my laptop, the sound of typing echoed through the empty floor. Both of us were surviving on caffeine at this point, evident from the scattered paper cups on the table.
In the midst of entering an Excel formula, a faint scraping sound caught my attention. I had paused briefly to double-check my calculations, and that's when I heard it. As soon as I paid attention to it, it abruptly stopped. I looked up from my laptop, surveying the dimly lit office, but found no source for the sound. Awais, sitting to my right, seemed too busy with his work to notice. Shaking my head, I returned to my tasks, convinced that I had simply imagined it. However, as I looked back at the laptop screen, the scraping noise resumed, faint but distinct.
I immediately stood up, and once again, the sound stopped. I scanned the room and heard Awais making a strange noise. I turned toward him, and he burst into laughter.
"Bruh, you should have seen your face," Awais said, struggling to contain his amusement.
"Dude, that scared the hell out of me. Don't pull such pranks when we're up against a deadline."
"Yeah, yeah. You definitely need some sleep. You're losing it right now."
"I'll get some rest once I finish this," I replied, plopping back into my chair and letting out a sigh.
"I hate my job."
"Not much longer, right? This is our last day. Do you think our replacements will be able to complete this?"
"Probably. We gave them a thorough briefing about the work earlier."
I looked at Awais, and he slowly closed his laptop.
"You're leaving, huh?"
"I have a lot on my mind right now. I need to take a step back."
"Sure, I'll probably leave in a few minutes as well. You go ahead."
Awais started gathering his belongings, and in the midst of packing, he asked, "Have you heard from Asjad Bashir? He left the company a week ago, and we haven't heard a word from him."
"Same here. I've tried contacting him multiple times, but his phone was turned off."
"You think it's related to that rumored curse?"
"Nonsense. Do you believe in such things?"
"I don't, but lately, it seems more than just a rumor, doesn't it? They say those who leave the company vanish."
"Asjad not answering our calls would definitely have a logical explanation, rather than some absurd curse. He did say that his phone was causing all sorts of problems before he left"
"Sure, but what about Sarah and Ahmed?"
"They both had plans to move to China, so it's possible that they haven't had a chance to reach out to us yet."
"Junaid, it's been three months, and Ahmed, your work buddy, hasn't even contacted you."
"I understand that his silence is bothering you, but I have faith that he will eventually get in touch with us."
Awais didn't seem satisfied with my response. He stared blankly at the vacant office space.
"Don't worry about anything. You'll be fine. That rumor is just a tactic to keep us in the company," I assured him, giving his shoulder a pat.
"I want to believe that too. Anyway, I'm leaving now. Let's grab lunch sometime and talk shit about this company again," Awais said weakly, letting out a faint laugh.
"Sure thing, buddy."
We shook hands firmly, and Awais picked up his bag, heading towards the elevator. The doors closed, plunging the space into darkness once again, I returned to my desk and resumed my work.
About 20 minutes later, I stretched my arms.
"Man, the newbies are going to have a field day with this assignment."
I closed my laptop, preparing to pack up. I gathered the empty paper cups and tossed them into the nearby bin.
As I stood by the elevator, I took one last glance at the empty office.
"Never thought I'd witness this day, especially not after four years of being here."
With that, I stepped into the elevator. The doors closed, and the descent began, the floor numbers gradually ticking down from three.
Surprisingly, the elevator jolted and came to a sudden stop.
"Well, that was quicker than expected," I muttered.
I looked at the elevator panel, only to find the lower portion of "2" and the upper portion of "1".
"What in the world?"
Realizing that the doors hadn't opened, I pressed the buttons and attempted to force them apart, but to no avail. Of all the times, it had to be today. I decided to call the security guard, Kashif, I picked up my phone, and at that moment, the elevator doors opened.
Before me lay a dark corridor, without a single light. Glancing back at the panel, I noticed that it still displayed the same numbers. I tapped the panel and pressed the buttons, but nothing happened.
Letting out a sigh, I adjusted the strap of my bag and stepped out of the elevator. As soon as I did, the doors closed shut. I turned around, only to see the elevator panel indicating that it was descending to the ground level.
"You've got to be kidding me."
I found myself in an unfamiliar corridor. It didn't match any floor layout I was familiar with. With my phone's flashlight activated, I cautiously proceeded forward, noticing a partially open door a few meters away. In a final desperate attempt, I pushed the elevator button, but it remained fixed on the ground level. Admitting defeat, I slowly approached the door.
Carefully, I pushed the door open, my body on high alert for reasons I couldn't quite understand. Illuminating the room with my phone's light, I discovered empty workstations and chairs. I scanned the area, moving the light from one corner to another. In all my four years at the company, I had never seen this room before. I searched for a light switch, however, there were none, and I realized there were no windows either. Odd.
The only sound that came in the room was the sound of rushing air from the ventilation system. As I approached the first workstation, I noticed the name "Akhtar Ali" taped to the desk, accompanied by a photo of a man in his late thirties, I assumed the man in was Akhtar. Strangely enough, I had never seen or met him in the office before. I directed my flashlight towards the adjacent desk, where the name 'Parveen Nabil' was written—a name I had never heard in the office either.
Something felt off. I hurriedly passed by each table, each taped with a name tag and a picture of the person assigned to it. As I approached the end of the table, a particular name caught my attention. There was no mistaking it. Moving closer, I confirmed that 'Asjad Bashir' was written there, accompanied by a picture taken on his last day of work.
I took a step back from the table, feeling uneasy at what I had just looked at. Did the office maintain some bizarre memorial for all the staff members who had left? It sounded absurd, but that's exactly what was before me.
There were two desks next to Asjad's. I moved towards it, making me shiver at what I saw. The desks had mine and Awais' names taped on. What's more shocking was that the picture of either of us was the ones we took a couple of hours ago, when everyone had left.
"What in the world is going on? This is madness," I muttered.
I knew I had to leave. Something was severely wrong. At the far end of the room, there was another door. I approached it and cautiously opened it. Immediately, a horrendous, rotting smell invaded my nostrils, nearly causing me to throw up. Covering my nose, I took a step forward but tripped over something and stumbled to the floor. In the process, my phone was thrown a few feet away, its light illuminating the room. As I slowly rose, I noticed an arm lying next to my feet. Startled, I stood up, only to be confronted with a horrifying sight.
The floor was covered in dried blood, and several hooks with chains dangled from the ceiling. Lifeless bodies hung from those hooks, each with their mouths impaled on a hook. Limbs were strewn across the floor, as every body had been gruesomely dismembered.
I began to hyperventilate. What in God's name was I witnessing? This was sheer madness. Trembling, I reached for my phone, and as I retrieved it, I recognized the first body—the resemblance was unmistakable, it was Asjad Bashir. The corpse had decomposed slightly, but the face was still recognizable.
Three rooms stood at the end of the room, one of which was illuminated. I hurriedly made my way toward it, peeking through the doors' small window. Inside, a huge, obese man stood, easily seven feet tall and weighing over 500 pounds. His body was covered in scars and stitches, with a prominent red scar across his bald head. Gripping a massive meat cleaver, he was busy dismembering a lifeless figure on a table before him. With each strike, limbs fell off, and blood sprayed in all directions. I couldn't see the face of the body from my position.
"Gotta love it when the little fishy walks right into my hands," he chuckled, his voice hoarse.
Shocked and terrified, I stepped away from the door, realizing I needed to escape this place.
I heard movement in the room and quickly ducked into the next room. Just as I slightly closed the door behind me, the man emerged. Although I couldn't see what he was doing, I heard the sound of chains rattling and the piercing of flesh.
Footsteps echoed again, and it seemed the man was leaving. The footsteps halted, followed by the man sniffing the air, chuckling with delight.
"Oh boy, oh boy, looks like another little fishy was wandering around here. I do love me some good hide and seek."
With that, it sounded like he exited the slaughter room and entered the memorial room. Gathering my courage, I left the room I had hidden in, refraining from using my phone's flashlight to avoid being spotted. I used the light coming from the butcher's room to navigate my way to the butcher's room.
The room was a blood-splattered chaos. In the center stood a large table, with limbs on it from the previous victim. I frantically searched the room for a key, a button, anything that could help me escape.
But there was nothing. Overwhelmed with despair, I collapsed onto the floor.
"I don't want to die. I don't want to die."
All hope seemed lost. That monster was sure to return any minute and kill me. At that moment, I noticed a large finger hanging on a cleaver keychain from one of the walls. I got up and grabbed it.
Then, I heard the door behind me creak open, and I felt a force pulling me upright.
"Well, well, the little fishy has strayed too far from the fishing net."
I turned and saw one of the ugliest faces I had ever seen, grinning at me. I struggled to break free from his grip, but he was too strong.
"Oh, the little fishy is putting up a fight? I do love me some strong fish."
He flashed a toothy grin and threw me onto the table. Placing his enormous hand on my neck, he began to strangle me.
"Now, playtime is over, fishy. Please die for me and create the music of death."
He brought his face closer to mine, a sadistic smile spreading across his lips. I clawed at his hands, but his grip tightened. I gasped for air and that made the man laugh.
"Give me more music fish."
Summoning my last ounce of strength, I clenched the cleaver keychain tightly and drove it into his eye with all my might.
The man howled in agony and stumbled back. Coughing and gasping for air, I scrambled to my feet. With one goal in mind to escape, I sprinted out of the room.
"You piece of shit! I'll skin you alive!" roared the butcher.
I took out my phone and illuminated my path with its light. Hastily finding the door to the memorial room, I entered it. The room was now a mess, with overturned tables. I didn't have much time to assess the full extent of the butcher's rampage. I exited the memorial room, rushed down the corridor, and reached the elevator.
Frantically pressing the buttons, I received no response. "Come on, come on!"
Despite multiple attempts, the elevator remained motionless. I heard a loud explosion behind me, signaling that the man had entered the memorial room. Ready to give up, I remembered the giant finger I had picked up. I decided to use it to press the elevator button, and to my relief, the elevator started moving up.
The elevator doors opened and with that, the memorial room doors as well. The light from the elevator shone in the corridor and I saw him running towards me.
"Get here, you little fish."
He raised his cleaver and hurled it towards me. I used the finger and pressed the ground level. The doors closed, stopping the cleaver from impaling me.
The elevator descended and stopped at the ground level.
The doors opened, revealing the reception area of the office, with the security guard Kashif sitting there. As he saw me, he quickly stood and approached.
"What happened to you? You're a complete mess, and what's with all the blood?" he asked, bewildered.
"There... I... He..." I struggled to form any words.
With that, I bolted out of the front door. I ran and ran, not even bothering to call a taxi. I needed to distance myself from that place and everything I had witnessed.
I reached my house in no time as I didn't live too far from the office, I locked all the doors and hid in my room. I don't know how, but somehow I managed to fall asleep. The next morning, I attempted to call Awais, but received no response. I tried calling the security guard, Kashif, but his phone was powered off. Each number I attempted to call yielded the same result—no connection.
During all this confusion, I noticed a text message notification on my phone. It was from Awais, sent to me just after he left the office last night. The message read:
"Junaid, what the hell is going on in this office? Why the hell are there dead bodies being kept here?"
2023.06.10 08:24 red525 I need another perspective
 | Sooo I said yes to this dress, but I’m not sure about it. The torso seems short to me, and I feel like my shoulder are just very visible and present and it feels disproportional. I know this dress isn’t my size and would have to go up one. submitted by red525 to weddingdress [link] [comments] I’m also considering dropping the waist an inch and raising the neckline for a more sweetheart look. And also do off the shoulder straps or sleeves(for the ceremony). Is that all too much? Am I seeing stuff that’s not necessarily an issue? Any other advice or thoughts? |
2023.06.10 06:57 rdk67 Spring Day 81: Sweetness Remembered
(This is a nonviolent text.)
Life! Exclamation point! Today’s speaker is made of clock parts and possesses encyclopedic knowledge about the nature of natural life. Life! Exclamation point! Though biographies in the back of conference programs won’t ever tell the whole story, they tempt us with the true face of authority. Today’s speaker – Life! – is made of clock parts, probably a grandfather clock to begin with, young for its age, but then he started slapping on extra clock parts, moved by an urge he couldn’t explain, until the function of tolling the hour was more of a hobby, a weekend pass-time, compare to what all those precision instruments were up to on a regular basis. As a vision on stage, the speaker’s machinations were there for all to see – the whirring of gears and belts, the clanking of chains. Where his heart chakra was thought to manifest, swung a pendulum.
The nature of natural life is not an easy expertise to build a vocation around – Life! Exclamation point! – but what a sentence to say aloud. At this point in the address, one of the speaker’s mainsprings uncoils where his belly button would normally be. He uses the longer of his hands to poke it back into place without breaking stride, continues: What is a natural life? More to the point, what is a natural lifespan? Who better to know than me! He points to himself when he says this, does a quick spin in place, revealing the dozens of differently styled clock faces that cover the surface of his body, continues: I’m after the author’s natural lifespan, like to pretend I’m playing along, but the whole time, I’m thinking about his natural lifespan. Hmm, hmm, I wonder why? Ha! // The author changes the subject – today’s speaker thinks of something else.
When you discover someone living an unnatural lifespan, you seek to find out why. Not that the reason is the point – not by a longshot – but call me curious. Maybe they tripped at the right moment and tumbled past the grave. Maybe they did a few extra calisthenics before the cock crowed. Or – perish the thought – they succumbed to an unholy pact at a vulnerable moment. I have taken it upon myself to sniff them out – and when he says this, the regulators above his eyes both arch significantly. And what then? We usually have a quiet chat before I recite my speech and complete my visit. It isn’t personal, I begin – time sometimes wells up, spills over its banks, and floods the village. If we could avoid such catastrophe, we should – don’t you agree? The time nature intends, through natural lifespans, would never, let’s be honest, flood a valley.
And what, then, would I do? Proprietary information! hoots today’s speaker from the stage, does another quick spin, stage lights flickering off his crystals, his gleaming metals. About the author’s natural lifespan – oh, you thought I’d forgotten! Were you 18 when you first died? Had it happened before then? Were you but a child under-supervised? Under-supervision-ed, we might say. Remember the day? You rode a toy out into the street, and a car’s front bumper rushed forward to kiss you on the left side of your head, the temple, a stone flung by the age of automobiles. Don’t you remember? Of course you do – the passionate screeching of tires, as those around you stopped and turned to look, surprise gradually replaced by horror at what they knew happened but couldn’t bear to see. You thought you survived – didn’t you? – but thereafter, what appeared on your left temple? A knotted cist so prominent, people stopped you and asked what happened. You saw exactly two physicians over the next 10 years, both telling you not to worry about it, and so you didn’t. You didn’t! When you probed the spot with your fingers, it felt like a rounded room, a shelter built by something trying to survive. As for that 18-year-old involved in that off-road motor vehicle accident – nominee number two, let’s call it – true, you were far more aware of mortality by then, but your own? You climbed aboard a 3-wheeled vehicle that could travel at more than 50mph, completely lacking a seatbelt, headrest, or protective frame – without a helmet, boots, or jacket – and the brakes were less than half there that fateful day, a means of slowing down – a vehicle that would be rendered illegal to operate within a matter of years of the accident . . . the accident . . . remember the accident? August, you were traveling off-road to do farm work, the cornfield you were riding beside with several rows chopped out for silage, and on impulse, you decided to turn into the field to see where it went, then really opened her up because of the green blur of all that corn. Did you secretly expect the drainage ditch? Was this more of a suicide mission? Over the side you went, face first into the opposite bank, and if anyone was wondering – the effect was not of pain but of the lights going out all at once. Imagine the nature of reality that allows for: the inevitability of the crash, followed by all the lights going out – this is really happening – followed by some utterly absent experience, like a film editor cutting in a blankness where reality normally insists scenes of existence should be. The film projectionist would have been instructed to fast-forward through this part of the film, such that no time seems to pass, and the next thing we know, he is trying to push a 3-wheeler out of a drainage ditch. That thing weighing more than he does, and he’s trying to heave it above his head, up and out of the drainage ditch. What had he become? What time-wise tricks were in play? He finally gave up trying to free torment from its channel, staggered through the field toward the truck, face covered in blood, never went to the hospital. When the story is recounted later by his dad, the story became how dad fixed the 3-wheeler by prying the front wheel out of the frame with his truck and a chain. Can you imagine that chain now? They called it a log chain, and the links were cast iron. It was completely covered in rust.
The author knows all this already, receives a spiritual visitation during the writing of the phrase suicide mission, wondering if he’s okay. Yes, he replies, knowing this particular metaphysical weather report has a lot of ground to cover. Today’s guest speaker picks at one of his stems in a distracted way, lets the matter rest, inquires about whether – uh-hum! – he might be permitted to carry on. The author gets up, refills his coffee, returns to one of the picnic tables arrayed in front of the derelict peace church where he lives. He is surrounded by millions of individual affirmations of life, many of which are visibly in bloom or going to seed. A bumble bee flies by. A yellowish bug with zigzags on either side ambles up, its antennae twice as long as its body, tapping at the world in front of it. Among the local insect population, it’s regarded as a savant.
Uh-hum! How many more brushes with death would the author experience before it finally took? There was the time a few years later, same farm but different brother, taking turns firing a handgun at a target. This would be the last time he would fire a gun for any reason, was it not? They climb into the brother’s wedge-shaped sports car, named after the grasping part of a bird of prey, and into fate’s hands did fly. The car was totaled, the two of them, without seatbelts or airbags, unhurt inside the crumpled remnants of the crash, mere inches from winding up once more inside drainage infrastructure, this one built by municipal authority, and therefore of a substance that would have been altogether worse on an unsuspecting traveler headed straight down. Yes, you might have been saved from becoming the remains of the day – but by what?
The child who caused the crash, the one who pulled out in front of that bird of prey, barely old enough to drive, who had two younger passengers inside with him, taking them out for ice cream maybe – that young driver sat nearby while police sorted out the story. He was crying on the side of the road like he would never stop, like he had identified the crash as the latest in a series of personal failings that would stretch into the future of his adulthood like a hot blacktop road and which, at every stop along the way, tragic suffering would be the font of consolation. Was this the way reality was supposed to work? The author recognized the boy as himself at an earlier age, bent down beside him, put a hand on his shoulder, and said, you will be okay. No one was hurt, and the rest can be replaced – your heart is true, and your soul will find its relief.
Ah, yes, the crash, says the author – ah, yes, the crash. Ah, yes, the crash, says the author – ah, yes, the crash. Ah, yes, the crash, says the author – ah, yes, the crash. The late days of spring may be the most forgotten of the year. If we aren’t anticipating summer – it’s still spring? – then we’re longing for those moments when the world was still opening its mouth, and then its eyes, and then its hands. The trees are all open by now, those late-arriving sycamores even filling out their leaves, such that the twigs and branches are all mildly bowed by the extra weight. After spring assumes its labor, the rest of the season finds its dedication, and I imagine the beads of water rising through capillaries beneath the wood – call it a space program – and a sweetness spreads throughout the tubular organisms we call trees. Late spring – sweetness remembered.
Life! Exclamation point! Chronobiology knows nature has much to say about what is cyclical, when, and for how long – much less to say about the natural length of one’s existence. Is death something one develops a knack for? The next notable death in the author’s life occurred a few years later – the death that would make dying into a full-time vocation. And where again do we find the author? Beside a drain. This one introducing the age of indoor plumbing, as the author lay on the floor of a friend’s bathroom, his life flashing before his eyes, as he vomits into a toilet. This time the world does not go dark all at once but feels like fuses blowing out, like a timed demolition, flashing like a string of firecrackers across the structural frame of a building, and a voice not his own telling the author: you’ll be okay, ride it out, remain present, you’ll be okay.
Would he though? For this fourth death, another blank spot appeared, no two – two instances of nothingness, orbiting each other, during which time, during which time, during which time – perhaps language hasn’t the proper security clearance to convey the negotiations that must have taken place to bring about a return to the living. The author remembers his friend opening the bathroom door, before which she would have been knocking and calling his name. When the door struck him in the back, and he came back to life, had he landed in the place where that drain did lead? While his friend cleaned up the bathroom floor with a towel, he sat on a bed with his hands covering his face. The hideousness he’d just passed through was the abbreviated version of what was to come – he knew the drill by now. The knot on his forehead was gone.
Destiny had finally shown him to his home, gave him a tour of the place, before scraping him off the floor, then setting up a series of baffling crises – from autumn 2002 to May 2003 – that would occupy the author’s attention for decades to come. The will toward dying had finally brought the world to life, and the mind of the universe was both ecstatic and enraged about it. Down there, at the bottom of the drain, they were fighting a global war on terror, war on terror, war on terror, and if wars on terror sum up preferred formulations of self-annihilation – symbol of invocation: fighting a reflection – then perhaps the author’s presence was meant to form a mirror-in-mirror infinity from which sustainable futures would emerge. Welcome to Mirror World! Where reflectivity gives us an evolutionary future! Where a universal narrative unfolds!
The author is making me write this, I must confess, but to everyone’s surprise, I am forcing the author to make me! The author is mine! And the author wrote that, too, I must additionally confess, and the two of us go around and around like this – symbol of invocation: two snails having sex in midair. The flatness and hardness we associate with reflectivity is something we will all outgrow eventually, and the hologram of hyper-reality will appear within our being like a flying saucer, and we will all be both abductees and witnesses, shown around the universe in style. Too much to ask? The last such alien contact – the insinuation of verbal and mathematical language into the genome of big-brained primates – gave us the keys to earthly reality. We are now exiting the stone age, evolving the means to make benevolence a fixture of human life.
The author made me write that, too, and even though I am just as surely making him write this, we must admit the mutability within the fabric of reality was not won without a struggle. The author faced death 11 times that year, faced death the next year, and the year after that. Each point along the way wanted to finish what the others couldn’t, and soon death felt like an echo, and in that moment of not really distinguishing the source and the reflection – when they both look somewhat the same – he could tell life and death were likewise difficult to discern. Life! Exclamation point! Are you merely an extension of entropy? A quicker way of dissipating the heat from a rocky-bodied planetoid like the earth? And if you are, then is life really just another form of death? But death! Didn’t you show us the way? Wasn’t dying the source of the cure?
Today’s speaker made me write that, just as I made him think it. And as thoughts passed from gear to gear around his body – as cuckoos sprang forth through tiny doors at various angles – as a series of chimes and tones issued forth from the stage like the ringing of a bell, if the bell could tell time and was tolled by committee – then the river of the natural lifespan, subject of such grand speculation in a previous incarnation, could now take its course. Perhaps indeed valleys would flood, but such is the natural origin of certain fertile fields. Springtime couldn’t agree with me more, its will toward abundance glad to splay its fingers before another epic growing season. As the author considers ways to wind up this report – knowing such lived truth inspires concern – whether death equals life or life equals death, he reasserts a will toward world peace.
Peace.
submitted by rdk67 to MetaphysicalWeather [link] [comments]
Life! Exclamation point! Today’s speaker is made of clock parts and possesses encyclopedic knowledge about the nature of natural life. Life! Exclamation point! Though biographies in the back of conference programs won’t ever tell the whole story, they tempt us with the true face of authority. Today’s speaker – Life! – is made of clock parts, probably a grandfather clock to begin with, young for its age, but then he started slapping on extra clock parts, moved by an urge he couldn’t explain, until the function of tolling the hour was more of a hobby, a weekend pass-time, compare to what all those precision instruments were up to on a regular basis. As a vision on stage, the speaker’s machinations were there for all to see – the whirring of gears and belts, the clanking of chains. Where his heart chakra was thought to manifest, swung a pendulum.
The nature of natural life is not an easy expertise to build a vocation around – Life! Exclamation point! – but what a sentence to say aloud. At this point in the address, one of the speaker’s mainsprings uncoils where his belly button would normally be. He uses the longer of his hands to poke it back into place without breaking stride, continues: What is a natural life? More to the point, what is a natural lifespan? Who better to know than me! He points to himself when he says this, does a quick spin in place, revealing the dozens of differently styled clock faces that cover the surface of his body, continues: I’m after the author’s natural lifespan, like to pretend I’m playing along, but the whole time, I’m thinking about his natural lifespan. Hmm, hmm, I wonder why? Ha! // The author changes the subject – today’s speaker thinks of something else.
When you discover someone living an unnatural lifespan, you seek to find out why. Not that the reason is the point – not by a longshot – but call me curious. Maybe they tripped at the right moment and tumbled past the grave. Maybe they did a few extra calisthenics before the cock crowed. Or – perish the thought – they succumbed to an unholy pact at a vulnerable moment. I have taken it upon myself to sniff them out – and when he says this, the regulators above his eyes both arch significantly. And what then? We usually have a quiet chat before I recite my speech and complete my visit. It isn’t personal, I begin – time sometimes wells up, spills over its banks, and floods the village. If we could avoid such catastrophe, we should – don’t you agree? The time nature intends, through natural lifespans, would never, let’s be honest, flood a valley.
And what, then, would I do? Proprietary information! hoots today’s speaker from the stage, does another quick spin, stage lights flickering off his crystals, his gleaming metals. About the author’s natural lifespan – oh, you thought I’d forgotten! Were you 18 when you first died? Had it happened before then? Were you but a child under-supervised? Under-supervision-ed, we might say. Remember the day? You rode a toy out into the street, and a car’s front bumper rushed forward to kiss you on the left side of your head, the temple, a stone flung by the age of automobiles. Don’t you remember? Of course you do – the passionate screeching of tires, as those around you stopped and turned to look, surprise gradually replaced by horror at what they knew happened but couldn’t bear to see. You thought you survived – didn’t you? – but thereafter, what appeared on your left temple? A knotted cist so prominent, people stopped you and asked what happened. You saw exactly two physicians over the next 10 years, both telling you not to worry about it, and so you didn’t. You didn’t! When you probed the spot with your fingers, it felt like a rounded room, a shelter built by something trying to survive. As for that 18-year-old involved in that off-road motor vehicle accident – nominee number two, let’s call it – true, you were far more aware of mortality by then, but your own? You climbed aboard a 3-wheeled vehicle that could travel at more than 50mph, completely lacking a seatbelt, headrest, or protective frame – without a helmet, boots, or jacket – and the brakes were less than half there that fateful day, a means of slowing down – a vehicle that would be rendered illegal to operate within a matter of years of the accident . . . the accident . . . remember the accident? August, you were traveling off-road to do farm work, the cornfield you were riding beside with several rows chopped out for silage, and on impulse, you decided to turn into the field to see where it went, then really opened her up because of the green blur of all that corn. Did you secretly expect the drainage ditch? Was this more of a suicide mission? Over the side you went, face first into the opposite bank, and if anyone was wondering – the effect was not of pain but of the lights going out all at once. Imagine the nature of reality that allows for: the inevitability of the crash, followed by all the lights going out – this is really happening – followed by some utterly absent experience, like a film editor cutting in a blankness where reality normally insists scenes of existence should be. The film projectionist would have been instructed to fast-forward through this part of the film, such that no time seems to pass, and the next thing we know, he is trying to push a 3-wheeler out of a drainage ditch. That thing weighing more than he does, and he’s trying to heave it above his head, up and out of the drainage ditch. What had he become? What time-wise tricks were in play? He finally gave up trying to free torment from its channel, staggered through the field toward the truck, face covered in blood, never went to the hospital. When the story is recounted later by his dad, the story became how dad fixed the 3-wheeler by prying the front wheel out of the frame with his truck and a chain. Can you imagine that chain now? They called it a log chain, and the links were cast iron. It was completely covered in rust.
The author knows all this already, receives a spiritual visitation during the writing of the phrase suicide mission, wondering if he’s okay. Yes, he replies, knowing this particular metaphysical weather report has a lot of ground to cover. Today’s guest speaker picks at one of his stems in a distracted way, lets the matter rest, inquires about whether – uh-hum! – he might be permitted to carry on. The author gets up, refills his coffee, returns to one of the picnic tables arrayed in front of the derelict peace church where he lives. He is surrounded by millions of individual affirmations of life, many of which are visibly in bloom or going to seed. A bumble bee flies by. A yellowish bug with zigzags on either side ambles up, its antennae twice as long as its body, tapping at the world in front of it. Among the local insect population, it’s regarded as a savant.
Uh-hum! How many more brushes with death would the author experience before it finally took? There was the time a few years later, same farm but different brother, taking turns firing a handgun at a target. This would be the last time he would fire a gun for any reason, was it not? They climb into the brother’s wedge-shaped sports car, named after the grasping part of a bird of prey, and into fate’s hands did fly. The car was totaled, the two of them, without seatbelts or airbags, unhurt inside the crumpled remnants of the crash, mere inches from winding up once more inside drainage infrastructure, this one built by municipal authority, and therefore of a substance that would have been altogether worse on an unsuspecting traveler headed straight down. Yes, you might have been saved from becoming the remains of the day – but by what?
The child who caused the crash, the one who pulled out in front of that bird of prey, barely old enough to drive, who had two younger passengers inside with him, taking them out for ice cream maybe – that young driver sat nearby while police sorted out the story. He was crying on the side of the road like he would never stop, like he had identified the crash as the latest in a series of personal failings that would stretch into the future of his adulthood like a hot blacktop road and which, at every stop along the way, tragic suffering would be the font of consolation. Was this the way reality was supposed to work? The author recognized the boy as himself at an earlier age, bent down beside him, put a hand on his shoulder, and said, you will be okay. No one was hurt, and the rest can be replaced – your heart is true, and your soul will find its relief.
Ah, yes, the crash, says the author – ah, yes, the crash. Ah, yes, the crash, says the author – ah, yes, the crash. Ah, yes, the crash, says the author – ah, yes, the crash. The late days of spring may be the most forgotten of the year. If we aren’t anticipating summer – it’s still spring? – then we’re longing for those moments when the world was still opening its mouth, and then its eyes, and then its hands. The trees are all open by now, those late-arriving sycamores even filling out their leaves, such that the twigs and branches are all mildly bowed by the extra weight. After spring assumes its labor, the rest of the season finds its dedication, and I imagine the beads of water rising through capillaries beneath the wood – call it a space program – and a sweetness spreads throughout the tubular organisms we call trees. Late spring – sweetness remembered.
Life! Exclamation point! Chronobiology knows nature has much to say about what is cyclical, when, and for how long – much less to say about the natural length of one’s existence. Is death something one develops a knack for? The next notable death in the author’s life occurred a few years later – the death that would make dying into a full-time vocation. And where again do we find the author? Beside a drain. This one introducing the age of indoor plumbing, as the author lay on the floor of a friend’s bathroom, his life flashing before his eyes, as he vomits into a toilet. This time the world does not go dark all at once but feels like fuses blowing out, like a timed demolition, flashing like a string of firecrackers across the structural frame of a building, and a voice not his own telling the author: you’ll be okay, ride it out, remain present, you’ll be okay.
Would he though? For this fourth death, another blank spot appeared, no two – two instances of nothingness, orbiting each other, during which time, during which time, during which time – perhaps language hasn’t the proper security clearance to convey the negotiations that must have taken place to bring about a return to the living. The author remembers his friend opening the bathroom door, before which she would have been knocking and calling his name. When the door struck him in the back, and he came back to life, had he landed in the place where that drain did lead? While his friend cleaned up the bathroom floor with a towel, he sat on a bed with his hands covering his face. The hideousness he’d just passed through was the abbreviated version of what was to come – he knew the drill by now. The knot on his forehead was gone.
Destiny had finally shown him to his home, gave him a tour of the place, before scraping him off the floor, then setting up a series of baffling crises – from autumn 2002 to May 2003 – that would occupy the author’s attention for decades to come. The will toward dying had finally brought the world to life, and the mind of the universe was both ecstatic and enraged about it. Down there, at the bottom of the drain, they were fighting a global war on terror, war on terror, war on terror, and if wars on terror sum up preferred formulations of self-annihilation – symbol of invocation: fighting a reflection – then perhaps the author’s presence was meant to form a mirror-in-mirror infinity from which sustainable futures would emerge. Welcome to Mirror World! Where reflectivity gives us an evolutionary future! Where a universal narrative unfolds!
The author is making me write this, I must confess, but to everyone’s surprise, I am forcing the author to make me! The author is mine! And the author wrote that, too, I must additionally confess, and the two of us go around and around like this – symbol of invocation: two snails having sex in midair. The flatness and hardness we associate with reflectivity is something we will all outgrow eventually, and the hologram of hyper-reality will appear within our being like a flying saucer, and we will all be both abductees and witnesses, shown around the universe in style. Too much to ask? The last such alien contact – the insinuation of verbal and mathematical language into the genome of big-brained primates – gave us the keys to earthly reality. We are now exiting the stone age, evolving the means to make benevolence a fixture of human life.
The author made me write that, too, and even though I am just as surely making him write this, we must admit the mutability within the fabric of reality was not won without a struggle. The author faced death 11 times that year, faced death the next year, and the year after that. Each point along the way wanted to finish what the others couldn’t, and soon death felt like an echo, and in that moment of not really distinguishing the source and the reflection – when they both look somewhat the same – he could tell life and death were likewise difficult to discern. Life! Exclamation point! Are you merely an extension of entropy? A quicker way of dissipating the heat from a rocky-bodied planetoid like the earth? And if you are, then is life really just another form of death? But death! Didn’t you show us the way? Wasn’t dying the source of the cure?
Today’s speaker made me write that, just as I made him think it. And as thoughts passed from gear to gear around his body – as cuckoos sprang forth through tiny doors at various angles – as a series of chimes and tones issued forth from the stage like the ringing of a bell, if the bell could tell time and was tolled by committee – then the river of the natural lifespan, subject of such grand speculation in a previous incarnation, could now take its course. Perhaps indeed valleys would flood, but such is the natural origin of certain fertile fields. Springtime couldn’t agree with me more, its will toward abundance glad to splay its fingers before another epic growing season. As the author considers ways to wind up this report – knowing such lived truth inspires concern – whether death equals life or life equals death, he reasserts a will toward world peace.
Peace.
2023.06.10 06:48 Stock-Term6932 Montere Flirt Demi Fit Question
Hello! I ordered a bunch of montelle bras recently (I’m Canadian) and I’m having a strange fit issue. I got the flirt demi in a 28E and a 30D. The 28E on the loosest hook feels fine in the band but even after scoop and swoop has gaping and wrinkling in the top of the cup, the straps also sit quite far out on my shoulders. The 30D on the second hook feels okay band wise and sits nice and flush in the cup, no problems and overall feels better. The 28E was in black and the 30D is nude. I also ordered the Demi T-shirt bra in 28E and it fits nicely. My question is why would the 28E cup wrinkle and gape so much when the cup volume is the same as the 30D? I’m really perplexed. Thanks for your help! Measurements: LU: 73cm SU: 70cm TU: 68cm SB: 84 LB: 90 LyB: 80 Suggested size UK: 28E
submitted by Stock-Term6932 to ABraThatFits [link] [comments]
2023.06.10 04:37 ThrshNSmsh Does anyone know a better route than just googling 1982 Rickenbacker 4003 tuner to find a closed back Grover for it? Im finding nothing. The screw that holds my strap peg came out and broke the D string tuner. Any ideas are appreciated. Thanks.
 | submitted by ThrshNSmsh to BassGuitar [link] [comments] |
2023.06.10 03:02 Drakolf Dragon Rising- 27. Arcane:
They called it a Scryglass, the pun being very much intentional.
It was a mirror inscribed with magic runes that could be touched to match with a signature. We had effectively reinvented the telephone, but with the benefit of visuals to go with it. Even though it reflected the room behind me, I didn't show up, nobody showed up.
I tapped the runes indicated, and the Scryglass shifted to show a Human, who looked surprised.
"Holy shit, it actually worked." She remarked. She scrutinized me. "I was led to believe your Imperator would be speaking with us."
"I am Imperator Ruuk Stingtail." I stated. "My death was not exaggerated, the Gods simply had need of me. The short of it is that our High Priest was a saboteur for Tiamat, and had been using my brother, the acting Imperator, as a puppet. He is still at large, unfortunately, having escaped with Tiamat's intervention." I paused. "If you have a seat, please take it, I cannot guarantee this will be a quick call."
A chair was brought in, we both sat in our respective spots.
"Might I know your name, Human?" I asked.
"Staff Sergeant Catalina Rosaria Cortez." She replied. "We understand this Tiamat infiltrated our number under the alias of Tiana Martel."
"How much do you know of Tiamat's involvement in events?" I asked. "I ask mainly to ensure if you are missing any information, you can be apprised of the details."
"We don't know a whole lot." Sgt. Cortez stated. "We've been flying in the dark here for a year."
I nodded. I gave a rough overview of events as I remembered them, with Bahamut filling in the gaps that I had forgotten. A few of my Council looked uncomfortable when I mentioned we had once been Human, a fact I had already forgotten.
"For the purposes of interacting with us, approach any situation with the understanding that most- if not all of us- do not remember ever being Human. It's a detail even I find myself forgetting."
She nodded. "To be honest with you, we have had some trouble remembering that as well. I've gone over past reports, and it's clear that our memory is being affected as well, the blockades were enacted because we had come to the conclusion that you were invaders, rather than residents."
"That is alarming." I remarked. "Kashak! Alert the Circle that the Humans are experiencing the same loss in memory."
"The 'Circle'?" Sgt. Cortez asked.
"Our Circle of Mages, recently founded. They are a group of Sorcerers, Warlocks, Clerics... Anyone who has an interest in studying magic. It is their mission to find a way to properly contain the Divine Essence of Kurtulmak, and if possible, bring him back so the transformation of Humans into Kobolds can be controlled."
"Do you believe a God can be brought back to life?" She asked.
"I was." I replied. "Why not him?"
"Please tell her that, while I appreciate some of her men giving homage to me, it is unnecessary." Bahamut stated. "I am not the one containing the Divine Essence, it is the faithful who remain who keep it gathered."
"You can tell your men they don't need to pray to Bahamut." I said, she looked surprised, and a little confused. "While he appreciates it, he's not the one who's keeping the Divine Essence contained. Those of us who stubbornly continue to worship Kurtulmak are keeping it from spreading."
"I see..." She said.
"That being said, nothing is stopping them from continuing." I said. "As the new head of his Temple on Earth, I am... restructuring things."
"You took over the Temple." She said. "Making you the sole authority in your nation."
"If it makes you feel any better, I literally have Bahamut watching over my shoulder, there's nothing like a lawfully good Deity whose entire thing is Justice to provide some oversight."
She laughed, meaning my attempt at humor worked. "Sorry." She said. "That was rude of me."
"It was intentionally a joke." I said, easing her guilt. "The purpose of these Scryglasses- yes, I'm told it's a pun- is to ensure quick communication in the event things start going wrong."
She nodded. "So I was told." She said. "Is there anything you're expecting from us?"
"A rough overview of current events." I said. "Having an evil Dragon Goddess show up and lay waste to an entire town's worth of Kobolds certainly didn't go unnoticed, and that's not going into if she targeted the city over."
She nodded. "Things have been tense." She said. "Your actions led to what is effectively an unscheduled restructuring of our entire government."
'She means the citizens of her nation saw the open mistreatment of your people as the final straw, there was a violent uprising that led to the death and imprisonment of everyone in the higher echelons of government, and a provisional government is currently handling affairs while the situation is resolved.' Bahamut helpfully explained.
"So, you have your own issues on your end as well." I stated diplomatically.
"Tiamat attacking did not help matters." She said. "We still get some dumbshit activists trying to cause problems, thinking we're holding you hostage."
"Do you have any means of contacting them?" I asked.
"In theory, yes. They don't really listen, or pick up."
I nodded. "Contact them, simply tell them Imperator Ruuk is interested in speaking with them. After all, it is in both of our best interests to keep this situation contained."
The relief in her eyes was palpable, I had just lifted the weight of an entire world off her back. "I will do that, Imperator Ruuk." She said.
"Thank you." I tried to think of anything else that came to mind. "Keep me apprised of anything unusual happening on your end, I will have people stationed near this Scryglass to ensure you won't be waiting too long in the event you need my insight."
That was all that needed to be discussed, I ended the connection and sat back in my seat.
'It takes strength to speak with those you hate.' Bahamut stated. 'I am proud of you.'
I nodded. "Compromise." I said. "If I can't do that much, then I show I won't even follow in my God's footsteps."
There was no time for sitting around, ruminating on things that didn't directly serve getting us back on track.
"Hail, Imperator!" A few of our recent additions called out to me, there was still fear in their eyes, but they most certainly respected me. We got the foundation for even having a reservoir built. We all elected not to have indoor plumbing, we'd gotten used to chamber pots and the Druids were efficient at turning our waste into fertilizer, their ability to cleanse of it disease meaning there was no point in doing anything otherwise.
Instead, we elected to have the water go into strategically placed wells, with water created to test them out and ensure we would get flooded if a little too much water came in.
Thanks to the efforts of the Artificers and Druids, we had a system that would accommodate a proper reservoir, with future plans to have one made and installed. As we were patting ourselves on the back and celebrating our efforts, someone came running up to me. "Imperator! We need your assistance! Elgo snapped, we don't know what to do!"
"Show me." I said.
The Circle of Mages were situated in what I called the Arcane District, and considering the sounds coming from within, I knew the situation was serious. I ran past confused and concerned mages and headed for the far door.
Beyond it, I saw Elgo running around, grabbing paper and scrawling on it, paying no mind to the things he was knocking over. He was talking to himself, muttering frantically under his breath in a mixtire of Yipyak and English, as well as a few other languages I didn't recognize.
His hand seized a pen and he began drawing circles and diagrams on each page.
'Leave him be, Ruuk.' Bahamut stated. 'Give him some space.'
I shut the door, not really questioning what Bahamut knew that I didn't- not yet, at least. I looked at the other Mages. "Give him space." I said. "If it persists longer than a few days, then we get involved."
We didn't even need to wait the full day, Elgo came out of the room carrying a bunch of pages loosely bound together with string, which he brought over, slammed on a table, and began pointing at things and jibbering madly.
"Elgo, Elgo." I said, reaching out to him and trying to calm him down.
"No, Imperator, you do no understand-" He slipped into another language, emphatically trying to communicate something. I looked at the others. Anyone know Comprehend Languages?"
This seemed to snap Elgo back into reality. He looked at me for several moments, then stepped away, taking the bound-together papers and a cup of water. "This will explain it." He said, thumbing through the pages until he landed on one. This time, he spoke slowly and deliberately, half of his words were understandable, while the rest were not. It took him a full minute.
He flung the water, which twisted and roiled in the air before splashing against the ground. I watched in awe as the water then began to rise up, taking a humanoid form.
"Wait, you awoke as a Sorcerer?" A Warlock asked.
"No, he's our first Wizard." Arix stated. "Those papers in his hands? That's his spellbook. That insane babbling we heard? It's not insane to him."
Elgo nodded, "Yeah." He said. "It's, ah, a water elemental, kuutravai rukata vos aquan capable of, well, anything that water is capable of, like kavata tuugra shalai with its mass derived directly from the elemental plane of water."
"You could have just said 'magic' over and over again and we would have gotten exactly the same information out of that." Arix said. "What even is that language you're speaking?"
"He is speaking the Primordial tongue, the language of Elementals, the First Words of Asgorath." Bahamut spoke through me.
"Oh, you're familiar with it?" Elgo asked.
"Bahamut is." I said. "Mind filling us in on what he said?"
"The concepts are far more ancient than any modern languages can adequately convey, yet simplified, they can put out fires and smash things." Bahamut replied.
Elgo winced. "That's not really a good explanation." He said.
"It is not incorrect. You will have to learn how to convey these concepts in simpler terms, especially as you will need to teach those who will come after you." Bahamut retracted, and I felt a little drained. "Elgo, congratulations on your Awakening, I'll get an Artificer to make you a proper spellbook so you don't have to worry about your pages falling out." I looked pointedly at the page that was flopping to the floor. He quickly snatched it up.
"For the record." Bahamut spoke again. "He is the equivalent of a 'level ten', in your terms."
I blinked, Arix asked, "How?"
"I think it's because I've been spending my every waking moment trying to figure out how magic works." Elgo said. "I've studied scrolls and magic items, asking about specific runes and arrays. Today, it all just... clicked." He paused. "In fact, I feel like I have a greater grasp of our situation, maybe. I'll need more paper, more time to observe things."
I nodded. "Get on it, and report to me directly when you've finished. Your knowledge will be needed on my Council."
He nodded. "Yeah, yeah, Council. Wait, Council?" He looked at me.
"Every time a new Class is awakened, they are given a spot on my Council." I stated.
He looked distressed. "But there's so much I need to focus on, I can't be bogged down with politics! There's the matter of how we're going to gather up the Divine Essence and contain it, because even if we aren't showing signs of anything wrong with us, there's no telling what long-term effects we'll begin to display. I mean, there's gradual yellowing of everyone's eyes, and I'm fairly certain that isn't jaundice, not to mention the rapidity of cognitive degradation compared to the normal rate- more specifically in the region of the brain that governs memory, on top of everything else that's going on and I don't have the capacity to really do that."
I blinked, speechless for a moment. "As Councilor, you will have the authority to delegate." I stated firmly. "And having my ear on any problem you find or any solution you come up with will ensure they are handled immediately."
"R-right, I didn't think about that."
"That being said, I am going to require you to accompany me tonight, if you are as well-studied as you think you are, you'll be able to help us."
He nodded.
I put things in motion to get him a proper spellbook made, then continued about my day. By the time of the ritual, he'd already copied everything into a nice, leatherbound book, and he looked significantly less scatterbrained.
We prepared the ritual, which he observed quietly.
"Several issues." He said, after we finished. "First and foremost, the people who can't use magic are superfluous, they can just sit over here and pray and it would probably be just as effective."
A few of my fellow faithful started yelling at him.
"Quiet." I stated, they all went silent. "Elgo is here specifically to address anything he sees as not working or being counterproductive. Go on, Elgo."
"Right. Second, you're just throwing herbs in there, you need a proper incense, considering you're trying to worship a dead God back to life, frankincense, myrrh, and dragon's blood resin would be more effective, and these things can be purchased from any spiritual shop- I'm sure there's plenty in the next town over, we'll just have to contact the soldiers and get them to agree to get the materials."
"I have a means of communication, go on."
"Oh? I'll have to see it." He remarked. "Third, that's just a basic brazier full of wood you got from the ground. I understand you're desperately trying your best, but you're not getting anywhere if you're half-assing it. You're going to need- at the very least- something that actually matches what Kurtulmak likes. Not to mention getting wood that has the properties you need."
He looked thoughtful. "Fourth, you have his spear, you have armor that he made, yes? Use them. You have the best possible implements for- at the very least- gathering the Divine Essence into something that can hold it."
"Is that everything?" I asked.
"Everything that makes sense at least." He remarked. "Anything else, we're going to have to adjust."
I nodded. "Then let's make this a priority, if we're just wasting time now, we'd better use it so we aren't." We came together and- pooling our understanding- we came to a plan that could work.
___________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Cuts and gashes, the dead fighting the dead, culling the weak so the strong remained. The souls we slew would remain dead, irretrievable.
In the distance, a voice calls out to me.
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It was a mirror inscribed with magic runes that could be touched to match with a signature. We had effectively reinvented the telephone, but with the benefit of visuals to go with it. Even though it reflected the room behind me, I didn't show up, nobody showed up.
I tapped the runes indicated, and the Scryglass shifted to show a Human, who looked surprised.
"Holy shit, it actually worked." She remarked. She scrutinized me. "I was led to believe your Imperator would be speaking with us."
"I am Imperator Ruuk Stingtail." I stated. "My death was not exaggerated, the Gods simply had need of me. The short of it is that our High Priest was a saboteur for Tiamat, and had been using my brother, the acting Imperator, as a puppet. He is still at large, unfortunately, having escaped with Tiamat's intervention." I paused. "If you have a seat, please take it, I cannot guarantee this will be a quick call."
A chair was brought in, we both sat in our respective spots.
"Might I know your name, Human?" I asked.
"Staff Sergeant Catalina Rosaria Cortez." She replied. "We understand this Tiamat infiltrated our number under the alias of Tiana Martel."
"How much do you know of Tiamat's involvement in events?" I asked. "I ask mainly to ensure if you are missing any information, you can be apprised of the details."
"We don't know a whole lot." Sgt. Cortez stated. "We've been flying in the dark here for a year."
I nodded. I gave a rough overview of events as I remembered them, with Bahamut filling in the gaps that I had forgotten. A few of my Council looked uncomfortable when I mentioned we had once been Human, a fact I had already forgotten.
"For the purposes of interacting with us, approach any situation with the understanding that most- if not all of us- do not remember ever being Human. It's a detail even I find myself forgetting."
She nodded. "To be honest with you, we have had some trouble remembering that as well. I've gone over past reports, and it's clear that our memory is being affected as well, the blockades were enacted because we had come to the conclusion that you were invaders, rather than residents."
"That is alarming." I remarked. "Kashak! Alert the Circle that the Humans are experiencing the same loss in memory."
"The 'Circle'?" Sgt. Cortez asked.
"Our Circle of Mages, recently founded. They are a group of Sorcerers, Warlocks, Clerics... Anyone who has an interest in studying magic. It is their mission to find a way to properly contain the Divine Essence of Kurtulmak, and if possible, bring him back so the transformation of Humans into Kobolds can be controlled."
"Do you believe a God can be brought back to life?" She asked.
"I was." I replied. "Why not him?"
"Please tell her that, while I appreciate some of her men giving homage to me, it is unnecessary." Bahamut stated. "I am not the one containing the Divine Essence, it is the faithful who remain who keep it gathered."
"You can tell your men they don't need to pray to Bahamut." I said, she looked surprised, and a little confused. "While he appreciates it, he's not the one who's keeping the Divine Essence contained. Those of us who stubbornly continue to worship Kurtulmak are keeping it from spreading."
"I see..." She said.
"That being said, nothing is stopping them from continuing." I said. "As the new head of his Temple on Earth, I am... restructuring things."
"You took over the Temple." She said. "Making you the sole authority in your nation."
"If it makes you feel any better, I literally have Bahamut watching over my shoulder, there's nothing like a lawfully good Deity whose entire thing is Justice to provide some oversight."
She laughed, meaning my attempt at humor worked. "Sorry." She said. "That was rude of me."
"It was intentionally a joke." I said, easing her guilt. "The purpose of these Scryglasses- yes, I'm told it's a pun- is to ensure quick communication in the event things start going wrong."
She nodded. "So I was told." She said. "Is there anything you're expecting from us?"
"A rough overview of current events." I said. "Having an evil Dragon Goddess show up and lay waste to an entire town's worth of Kobolds certainly didn't go unnoticed, and that's not going into if she targeted the city over."
She nodded. "Things have been tense." She said. "Your actions led to what is effectively an unscheduled restructuring of our entire government."
'She means the citizens of her nation saw the open mistreatment of your people as the final straw, there was a violent uprising that led to the death and imprisonment of everyone in the higher echelons of government, and a provisional government is currently handling affairs while the situation is resolved.' Bahamut helpfully explained.
"So, you have your own issues on your end as well." I stated diplomatically.
"Tiamat attacking did not help matters." She said. "We still get some dumbshit activists trying to cause problems, thinking we're holding you hostage."
"Do you have any means of contacting them?" I asked.
"In theory, yes. They don't really listen, or pick up."
I nodded. "Contact them, simply tell them Imperator Ruuk is interested in speaking with them. After all, it is in both of our best interests to keep this situation contained."
The relief in her eyes was palpable, I had just lifted the weight of an entire world off her back. "I will do that, Imperator Ruuk." She said.
"Thank you." I tried to think of anything else that came to mind. "Keep me apprised of anything unusual happening on your end, I will have people stationed near this Scryglass to ensure you won't be waiting too long in the event you need my insight."
That was all that needed to be discussed, I ended the connection and sat back in my seat.
'It takes strength to speak with those you hate.' Bahamut stated. 'I am proud of you.'
I nodded. "Compromise." I said. "If I can't do that much, then I show I won't even follow in my God's footsteps."
There was no time for sitting around, ruminating on things that didn't directly serve getting us back on track.
"Hail, Imperator!" A few of our recent additions called out to me, there was still fear in their eyes, but they most certainly respected me. We got the foundation for even having a reservoir built. We all elected not to have indoor plumbing, we'd gotten used to chamber pots and the Druids were efficient at turning our waste into fertilizer, their ability to cleanse of it disease meaning there was no point in doing anything otherwise.
Instead, we elected to have the water go into strategically placed wells, with water created to test them out and ensure we would get flooded if a little too much water came in.
Thanks to the efforts of the Artificers and Druids, we had a system that would accommodate a proper reservoir, with future plans to have one made and installed. As we were patting ourselves on the back and celebrating our efforts, someone came running up to me. "Imperator! We need your assistance! Elgo snapped, we don't know what to do!"
"Show me." I said.
The Circle of Mages were situated in what I called the Arcane District, and considering the sounds coming from within, I knew the situation was serious. I ran past confused and concerned mages and headed for the far door.
Beyond it, I saw Elgo running around, grabbing paper and scrawling on it, paying no mind to the things he was knocking over. He was talking to himself, muttering frantically under his breath in a mixtire of Yipyak and English, as well as a few other languages I didn't recognize.
His hand seized a pen and he began drawing circles and diagrams on each page.
'Leave him be, Ruuk.' Bahamut stated. 'Give him some space.'
I shut the door, not really questioning what Bahamut knew that I didn't- not yet, at least. I looked at the other Mages. "Give him space." I said. "If it persists longer than a few days, then we get involved."
We didn't even need to wait the full day, Elgo came out of the room carrying a bunch of pages loosely bound together with string, which he brought over, slammed on a table, and began pointing at things and jibbering madly.
"Elgo, Elgo." I said, reaching out to him and trying to calm him down.
"No, Imperator, you do no understand-" He slipped into another language, emphatically trying to communicate something. I looked at the others. Anyone know Comprehend Languages?"
This seemed to snap Elgo back into reality. He looked at me for several moments, then stepped away, taking the bound-together papers and a cup of water. "This will explain it." He said, thumbing through the pages until he landed on one. This time, he spoke slowly and deliberately, half of his words were understandable, while the rest were not. It took him a full minute.
He flung the water, which twisted and roiled in the air before splashing against the ground. I watched in awe as the water then began to rise up, taking a humanoid form.
"Wait, you awoke as a Sorcerer?" A Warlock asked.
"No, he's our first Wizard." Arix stated. "Those papers in his hands? That's his spellbook. That insane babbling we heard? It's not insane to him."
Elgo nodded, "Yeah." He said. "It's, ah, a water elemental, kuutravai rukata vos aquan capable of, well, anything that water is capable of, like kavata tuugra shalai with its mass derived directly from the elemental plane of water."
"You could have just said 'magic' over and over again and we would have gotten exactly the same information out of that." Arix said. "What even is that language you're speaking?"
"He is speaking the Primordial tongue, the language of Elementals, the First Words of Asgorath." Bahamut spoke through me.
"Oh, you're familiar with it?" Elgo asked.
"Bahamut is." I said. "Mind filling us in on what he said?"
"The concepts are far more ancient than any modern languages can adequately convey, yet simplified, they can put out fires and smash things." Bahamut replied.
Elgo winced. "That's not really a good explanation." He said.
"It is not incorrect. You will have to learn how to convey these concepts in simpler terms, especially as you will need to teach those who will come after you." Bahamut retracted, and I felt a little drained. "Elgo, congratulations on your Awakening, I'll get an Artificer to make you a proper spellbook so you don't have to worry about your pages falling out." I looked pointedly at the page that was flopping to the floor. He quickly snatched it up.
"For the record." Bahamut spoke again. "He is the equivalent of a 'level ten', in your terms."
I blinked, Arix asked, "How?"
"I think it's because I've been spending my every waking moment trying to figure out how magic works." Elgo said. "I've studied scrolls and magic items, asking about specific runes and arrays. Today, it all just... clicked." He paused. "In fact, I feel like I have a greater grasp of our situation, maybe. I'll need more paper, more time to observe things."
I nodded. "Get on it, and report to me directly when you've finished. Your knowledge will be needed on my Council."
He nodded. "Yeah, yeah, Council. Wait, Council?" He looked at me.
"Every time a new Class is awakened, they are given a spot on my Council." I stated.
He looked distressed. "But there's so much I need to focus on, I can't be bogged down with politics! There's the matter of how we're going to gather up the Divine Essence and contain it, because even if we aren't showing signs of anything wrong with us, there's no telling what long-term effects we'll begin to display. I mean, there's gradual yellowing of everyone's eyes, and I'm fairly certain that isn't jaundice, not to mention the rapidity of cognitive degradation compared to the normal rate- more specifically in the region of the brain that governs memory, on top of everything else that's going on and I don't have the capacity to really do that."
I blinked, speechless for a moment. "As Councilor, you will have the authority to delegate." I stated firmly. "And having my ear on any problem you find or any solution you come up with will ensure they are handled immediately."
"R-right, I didn't think about that."
"That being said, I am going to require you to accompany me tonight, if you are as well-studied as you think you are, you'll be able to help us."
He nodded.
I put things in motion to get him a proper spellbook made, then continued about my day. By the time of the ritual, he'd already copied everything into a nice, leatherbound book, and he looked significantly less scatterbrained.
We prepared the ritual, which he observed quietly.
"Several issues." He said, after we finished. "First and foremost, the people who can't use magic are superfluous, they can just sit over here and pray and it would probably be just as effective."
A few of my fellow faithful started yelling at him.
"Quiet." I stated, they all went silent. "Elgo is here specifically to address anything he sees as not working or being counterproductive. Go on, Elgo."
"Right. Second, you're just throwing herbs in there, you need a proper incense, considering you're trying to worship a dead God back to life, frankincense, myrrh, and dragon's blood resin would be more effective, and these things can be purchased from any spiritual shop- I'm sure there's plenty in the next town over, we'll just have to contact the soldiers and get them to agree to get the materials."
"I have a means of communication, go on."
"Oh? I'll have to see it." He remarked. "Third, that's just a basic brazier full of wood you got from the ground. I understand you're desperately trying your best, but you're not getting anywhere if you're half-assing it. You're going to need- at the very least- something that actually matches what Kurtulmak likes. Not to mention getting wood that has the properties you need."
He looked thoughtful. "Fourth, you have his spear, you have armor that he made, yes? Use them. You have the best possible implements for- at the very least- gathering the Divine Essence into something that can hold it."
"Is that everything?" I asked.
"Everything that makes sense at least." He remarked. "Anything else, we're going to have to adjust."
I nodded. "Then let's make this a priority, if we're just wasting time now, we'd better use it so we aren't." We came together and- pooling our understanding- we came to a plan that could work.
___________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Cuts and gashes, the dead fighting the dead, culling the weak so the strong remained. The souls we slew would remain dead, irretrievable.
In the distance, a voice calls out to me.
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2023.06.10 01:28 NuclearWasteland Today I chose violence. Lets talk about EGO.
Never again will I buy a gas engine mower for a small plot.
Quiet, variable speed blades, does not scare the animals, even the chickens will follow along after bugs, no fumes, the batteries can be used in an ass ton of very nice home owner tools, machine is light enough I can wrestle it out of anything it gets stuck in, power capacity can be expanded with additional or improved batteries, NO BELTS, like driving an RC car around the yard, zero turn design, cupholder that won't vibrate the fizz out of your drink because there's no attached explosion box.
Seriously, I'm done with gas engine anything related to mowers. It's also easier on the grass and soil because the whole machine is not shaking like a concrete vibrator, liquifying the wet soil and displacing it under tire tread anywhere that is not perfectly dry.
I did not realize how badly the engine vibration was impacting myself and my landscape till it was absent.
Any electric.
I've thrown my lot in with Ego. Stupid name, great products, promised continued battery compatibility with ALL their tools. I use the mower batteries in a battery bank for camping. Can't easily do that with the engine in a gas mower that just sits idle in the off season. The high CFM leaf blower is amazing. The flood light is contractor grade. The push mowers are light, quiet, reliable, and chew up unkept lawns like a champ. The string trimmer is, well it's a good string trimmer, I dunno. Electric variants of those have been pretty good for a while if you pay enough.
There are places for gas mowers, and def for larger property applications, but this is the future, electric is viable, so so off brand batteries are available cheaply. There is no reason for me to spend on a comparatively priced fuel burner going into an increasingly EV future. It plugs in to charge as simple as my phone, and has a charge plug FOR my phone beside the aforementioned cupholder, of which there are two. There is an available shade canopy that is sturdy enough to act as a light rollover bar, and mount for an equipment box or yard tools.
Seriously, go electric. It made mowing my rough hilly forested 2 acres actually fun, like a little off road adventure every time. The zero turn is surprisingly capable on things other than flat lawn.
There is a reason Craigslist and Marketplace are flooded with free gas mowers.
The chainsaws are also pretty nice, and a major reason for my electric choice is fire. No heat and spark making engine, which after massive sustained fire evacuations a few summers ago is a HUGE deal. Not only is there no hot exhaust to worry about, but also no exposed friction heat sources, such as obtuse belts and pulley systems. This is not the flat-belt drive 1920's. Direct drive that shit with an enclosed high torque variable speed motor.
It has nice LED lighting, so you can near silently mow at night, even in a residential area, when the sun is down and it's cool out, and nobody will care because unless you chew up a rock or big branch nobody is going to hear it through even the most basic of vinyl frame double pane window.
I am using this thing outside it's intended spec's, and am using it hard, and it keeps going. This is the sort of machine the average home-owner actually needs, but marketing and bravado says otherwise.
It is not commercial equipment, but if you actually do need that, this brand is also expanding into that market.
submitted by NuclearWasteland to lawnmowers [link] [comments]
Quiet, variable speed blades, does not scare the animals, even the chickens will follow along after bugs, no fumes, the batteries can be used in an ass ton of very nice home owner tools, machine is light enough I can wrestle it out of anything it gets stuck in, power capacity can be expanded with additional or improved batteries, NO BELTS, like driving an RC car around the yard, zero turn design, cupholder that won't vibrate the fizz out of your drink because there's no attached explosion box.
Seriously, I'm done with gas engine anything related to mowers. It's also easier on the grass and soil because the whole machine is not shaking like a concrete vibrator, liquifying the wet soil and displacing it under tire tread anywhere that is not perfectly dry.
I did not realize how badly the engine vibration was impacting myself and my landscape till it was absent.
Any electric.
I've thrown my lot in with Ego. Stupid name, great products, promised continued battery compatibility with ALL their tools. I use the mower batteries in a battery bank for camping. Can't easily do that with the engine in a gas mower that just sits idle in the off season. The high CFM leaf blower is amazing. The flood light is contractor grade. The push mowers are light, quiet, reliable, and chew up unkept lawns like a champ. The string trimmer is, well it's a good string trimmer, I dunno. Electric variants of those have been pretty good for a while if you pay enough.
There are places for gas mowers, and def for larger property applications, but this is the future, electric is viable, so so off brand batteries are available cheaply. There is no reason for me to spend on a comparatively priced fuel burner going into an increasingly EV future. It plugs in to charge as simple as my phone, and has a charge plug FOR my phone beside the aforementioned cupholder, of which there are two. There is an available shade canopy that is sturdy enough to act as a light rollover bar, and mount for an equipment box or yard tools.
Seriously, go electric. It made mowing my rough hilly forested 2 acres actually fun, like a little off road adventure every time. The zero turn is surprisingly capable on things other than flat lawn.
There is a reason Craigslist and Marketplace are flooded with free gas mowers.
The chainsaws are also pretty nice, and a major reason for my electric choice is fire. No heat and spark making engine, which after massive sustained fire evacuations a few summers ago is a HUGE deal. Not only is there no hot exhaust to worry about, but also no exposed friction heat sources, such as obtuse belts and pulley systems. This is not the flat-belt drive 1920's. Direct drive that shit with an enclosed high torque variable speed motor.
It has nice LED lighting, so you can near silently mow at night, even in a residential area, when the sun is down and it's cool out, and nobody will care because unless you chew up a rock or big branch nobody is going to hear it through even the most basic of vinyl frame double pane window.
I am using this thing outside it's intended spec's, and am using it hard, and it keeps going. This is the sort of machine the average home-owner actually needs, but marketing and bravado says otherwise.
It is not commercial equipment, but if you actually do need that, this brand is also expanding into that market.
2023.06.09 23:56 LoyddSteroid Bloodhunt Launch!
Bloodhunt Launches with 3 Hunters, 6 Hunted, 4 maps and more.
HUNTED:
The Scarecrow
Difficulty: Moderate
Movement Speed: 4.6 Meters Per Second
Heartbeat: 24 Meters
Height: Moderate
Power: Lantern of Fear
Perks: Fear of Reality, Kill Streak and Skewered
Starter Add-ons: The Face of Fear Mask and Broken Light Bulb
Prestige 1: Kill 5 Hunted with a +25% Fear Bar
Prestige 2: Kill 10 Hunted with a +50% Fear Bar
Prestige 3: Kill 15 Hunted with a +75% Fear Bar
Full Prestige: Win 10 Matches where every Hunted is killed with a Full Fear Bar
Add-on Count: 14
Lantern of Fear
The Lantern of Fear can be used on any survivor. While using the Lantern of Fear you are slowed down to 4.3 Meters Per Second. The Hunted can be put into 4 tiers of Fear. Upon reaching a new Tier The Hunted are immune to gaining more fear for 10 seconds.
Hunted Tier 1: The World becomes Orange, making everything much hard to see
Hunted Tier 2: Hallucinations randomly appear walking. From this point onwards the Hunted slowly gain more fear whenever they aren't near any other survivor
Hunted Tier 3: A distant Heartbeat is heard
Hunted Tier 4: Every Time The Hunted see each other they will scream. A Constant Heartbeat is heard.
Interacting with a Hunted survivor who is in a lower tier of fear than you makes you slowly lose fear. The Current Fear state of any of the Hunted is not revealed to the Hunter
Perks
Fear of Reality:
The Hunter's deep connection to the ethereal realm grants him unparalleled efficiency in wielding his powers.
Increases the efficiency of all powers by 5/10/20%.
"Fear not the darkness, for it is your own sanity that shall crumble before him." - Jonathan Blackwood, before succumbing to the madness of the fog
Killstreak:
As the Hunter weaves their way through the fog, their malevolent presence disturbs the very essence of his surroundings.
This perk activates after injuring a Hunted Survivor while in chase. All of the Hunted within 4/8/16/32 meters of The Hunted Survivor in chase is revealed. This perk has a 60/30/15 second cooldown
"As the tally of his victims rises, so too does his insatiable hunger, an eternal hunger that feeds on your very essence." -Cirrus
Skewered:
The Hunter's arsenal of terror expands with each fateful encounter.
Gain a stack every time you injure a Hunted Survivor, up to a maximum of 5 stacks. Each stack increases your lunge by 0.25/0.5/1 meters.
"In the clutches of the Scarecrow's grasp, time unravels, and reality warps into a twisted nightmare." -Cirrus
Add-ons:
The Face of Fear Mask:
Starter Add-on for the Scarecrow
The Face of Fear Mask, a haunting artifact in the possession of the Scarecrow, serves as a conduit for the embodiment of pure terror.
Upon a Hunted Survivor reaching tier 4 they become exposed for 20 seconds
Exposure makes any Hunted take 2 health states when hit
Broken Light Bulb:
Starter Add-on for The Scarecrow
The Broken Light Bulb serves as a chilling reminder that no sanctuary can be found within the fog's enigmatic embrace.
Upon a Hunted Survivor reaching tier 4 they cannot use their item until they leave Tier 4
"The flickering light fades, shrouding you in darkness."
Crow Reaper:
Common Add-on for The Scarecrow
The Crow Reaper, a foreboding implement affixed to the Scarecrow's lantern, beckons the dark forces of the avian realm.
Increases range of Lantern of Fear by 15 meters (25 meters)
"In the wake of my haunting presence, the crows gather, harbingers of your imminent demise" -The Scarecrow
Crow Caller:
Common Add-on for The Scarecrow
The Crow Caller, a macabre attachment affixed to the Scarecrow's person, summons an unsettling entourage of spectral crows.
Whenever a Hunted Survivor enters tier 4 they gain a crow that screeches whenever they are within the Scarecrow's Heartbeat
"Beware the call of the crows, for they herald my approach" -The Scarecrow
Lit Candle:
Common Add-on for The Scarecrow
Increases movement speed when using the Lantern of Fear by 0.3 meters per second. Decreases movement speed when not using The Lantern of Fear by 0.3 meters per second. Increases all Fog Stones at the end of the round by 100%
Crow Invader:
Uncommon Add-on for The Scarecrow
A macabre charm fashioned from the feathers of dark, otherworldly crows, the Crow Invader radiates an eerie energy that resonates with The Scarecrow's presence.
Upon a survivor leaving any fear state they become exposed for 20 seconds
"Expose the trembling prey as they flee, and watch their hope wither in the mists." -The Fog, telling The Scarecrow his purpose
Crow Killer:
Uncommon Add-on for The Scarecrow
The Crow Killer, a wicked contrivance of The Scarecrow's malevolence, embodies his desire to ensnare the Hunted Survivors within a web of terror
Reveals the aura of any Hunted Survivor in Tier 1 or higher whenever they complete a skillcheck for 3 seconds
"Every act of defiance shall be met with revelation. The crows bear witness to your torment, and their caws shall herald your impending doom." -The Fog
Crow Feather:
Uncommon Add-on for The Scarecrow
The Crow Feather, a sinister artifact tied to the dark powers of The Scarecrow, shrouds him in a veil of stealth and deception.
Whenever a Hunted survivor enters tier 4 you become undetectable for 25 seconds
Undetectable removes the Hunter's heartbeat
"Silent as the wind's whisper, I tread upon your trembling dreams." -The Scarecrow
Crow Meat:
Rare Add-on for The Scarecrow
Whenever a survivor enters a new fear state they gain the Blindness effect for 30 seconds
Blindness makes any aura not appear
"Feast upon the crow's cursed flesh and feel the world fade to darkness. In fear's embrace, your eyes shall betray you, lost amidst the shadows of your own despair."
Crow Beak:
Rare add-on for The Scarecrow
Reveals the aura of all survivors within the range of Lantern of Fear
"Beneath the Scarecrow's gaze, no secret shall hide."
Moldy Crow:
Very Rare Add-on for The Scarecrow
The Moldy Crow, a decaying relic steeped in The Scarecrow's dark powers, inflicts a sinister influence upon the Hunted Survivors.
Any Hunted Survivor within tier 4 becomes oblivious
Crow Bone:
Very Rare Add-on for The Scarecrow
Once emerging from the Fog all Hunted Survivors start to gain fear up to tier 1.
"From the first step, your souls shall be tainted with fear, forever haunted by the specter of your impending demise." -The Scarecrow
Iridescent Crow:
Iridescent Add-on for The Scarecrow
A cruel "present" from the Fog itself, serves as a mocking reminder to The Scarecrow of his past life and his eternal entrapment within its grasp.
Reveals the aura of any Hunted survivor whenever they enter a new fear state for 5 seconds
"Behold this Crow, a twisted jest from the Fog's cruel heart. It is formed from the very roots of the Fog, and shows that you are still a man compared to the Fog" -Cirrus
Crow Wing:
Golden Add-on for The Scarecrow
Injuring a survivor who is in tier 3 or higher makes them broken until they are in tier 2
Broken means that survivor cannot heal
Lore:
In the late 19th century, during the unsettling era of the Industrial Revolution, a small farming community nestled deep within the heartland of a forgotten country thrived under the care of a diligent and compassionate farmer named Jonathan Blackwood. As the crops flourished, so did the hopes and dreams of the townsfolk who relied on the bountiful harvest to sustain their humble lives.
Jonathan possessed an uncanny talent for tending to the land, seemingly blessed by nature itself. With his expertise, the fields yielded more than ever before, and the villagers marveled at the abundance of food that spilled forth from the earth. The sight of the flourishing crops enchanted the townsfolk, and their admiration for Jonathan soon transformed into something akin to worship.
However, as the seasons passed, the prosperity that once enveloped the farming community began to wane. The crops withered, livestock perished, and a sense of despair hung heavily in the air. Blighted by a mysterious blight that defied explanation, the town faced an imminent threat of famine.
Desperate to save his beloved community, Jonathan turned to the forbidden arts of the occult. Rumors whispered of his nocturnal excursions to ancient burial grounds, where he sought guidance from the spirits of the departed. Driven by his love for the people who depended on him, Jonathan was willing to do whatever it took to restore the land's fertility and safeguard their futures.
It was during one fateful moonlit night that Jonathan stumbled upon a hidden chamber within an ancient burial mound. Within its depths lay an ornate lantern, its ethereal glow pulsating with a sinister energy. Overwhelmed by a mixture of awe and trepidation, Jonathan cautiously reached out and touched the lantern, and as his fingers brushed against its surface, an unholy pact was forged.
The spirit that inhabited the lantern, a malevolent entity known as Mirage, sought vengeance for its own tragic demise centuries earlier. Empowered by the farmer's desperation, it offered Jonathan a twisted bargain. In exchange for the spirit's guidance and the restoration of the land, Jonathan would become the vessel through which the spirit would unleash its wrath upon the world.
Blinded by his desire to save his community, Jonathan accepted the wicked pact. In that moment, Mirage's essence seeped into his very being, transforming him into a grotesque amalgamation of man and spirit. The once kind-hearted farmer was reborn as The Scarecrow, a twisted figure shrouded in tattered garments and adorned with straw-stuffed limbs, his hollow eyes burning with otherworldly fury.
With the newfound powers granted by Mirage, The Scarecrow returned to his dying community. As he roamed the moonlit fields, the eerie glow of the lantern he now wielded cast long, haunting shadows across the barren landscape. The presence of The Scarecrow alone brought terror to the hearts of the townsfolk, as they realized that their beloved farmer had been irrevocably changed by dark forces.
No longer bound by the limitations of mortal flesh, The Scarecrow's malevolence manifested through the powers of the lantern. As he stalked his prey, the lantern's glow intensified, and an oppressive mist engulfed the surroundings. Within this ethereal fog, the Hunted found their senses dulled, their movements slowed, and their chances of survival diminished.
The Scarecrow reveled in the torment of his victims, deriving sadistic pleasure from their despair. The once benevolent farmer had become an embodiment of fear, a being who lurked within the mist, harvesting the souls of those unfortunate enough to cross his path. The townsfolk's worship had been replaced by fear.
The Banshee
Difficulty: Hard
Movement Speed: 4 Meters per Second
Heartbeat: 32 meters
Height: Small
Power: Banshee Lunge
Perks: Banshee Scream, Lust for Blood and Death Immunity
Starter Add-ons: Crystal Ball and Timid Death Poster
Prestige 1: Kill 1 survivor with Banshee Lunge
Prestige 2: Kill 2 survivors with Banshee Lunge
Prestige 3: Kill 3 survivors with Banshee Lunge
Full Prestige: Win 15 Matches where the final kill was using the Banshee lunge
Add-on Count: 12
Banshee Lunge
Banshee Lunge can be charged.
Base Range: 15 meters
Charged Range: 30 meters
Hitting a survivor with Banshee Lunge will injure them for 1 health state. Banshee Lunge counts as a Special Attack. Hitting a deep wounded survivor with Banshee Lunge instantly kills them.
Perks:
Banshee Scream:
The Hunter's presence strikes fear into the hearts of the prey, invoking a visceral response with their deadly strikes. Upon ending the life of a survivor, the echoes of their dying breath send ripples of terror through their injured comrades.
Upon killing a survivor all injured survivors scream and reveal their auras for 3/6/12 seconds
"In the wake of death, the Banshee's cry echoes, striking terror into the wounded souls. Their screams reveal their fate, a chilling reminder of the inevitable."
Lust for Blood:
The Hunter's unyielding thirst for retribution sharpens their senses, granting a keen awareness of the wounded.
Reveals the aura of any survivor being healed for 2/4/8 seconds. This perk's icon lights up while it is active
"The Banshee's hunger grows with every drop of blood spilled. Her eyes keenly watch the wounded, exposing their feeble attempts to mend their broken bodies."
Death Immunity:
The Hunter's relentless pursuit of vengeance grants a formidable resilience in the face of adversity.
Upon injuring that survivor that survivor also suffers from bleed. After being stunned by any means you gain a 50% breaking speed for 10/20/40 seconds. This perk has a cooldown of 80/40/20 seconds
"The Banshee cannot be deterred by mere resistance." -Cirrus
Add-ons:
Crystal Ball:
Starter Add-on for The Banshee
The Crystal Ball, a mystic artifact in the Banshee's possession, grants her a glimpse into the fate of those she strikes with her Lunge
Reveals the aura of any survivor who vaults over a window for 3 seconds after injuring a survivor with Banshee Lunge
"The Crystal Ball gazes into the depths of their torment, revealing the futility of their attempts to flee"
Timid Death Poster:
Starter Add-on for The Banshee
Reveals the aura of all survivors for 4 seconds whenever you kill someone with Banshee Lunge
"In their fear, they are exposed, mere prey in the Banshee's unending hunt."
Screwdriver Head:
Common Add-on for The Banshee
A twisted modification to the Banshee's deadly instrument, imbues her with an eerie and unsettling power.
After deep wounding a survivor with Banshee Lunge you become Undetectable for 25 seconds
"The Banshee slips through the realm undetected, her wrath hidden until it is too late."
Training Sword:
Common Add-on for The Banshee
Reduces range of Banshee Lunge by 8 meters. Increases maximum Lunges by 1 (2 lunges). Increases turn rate by 25%
"Precision over distance, agility over reach." -Altan Khulan
Crossbow Bolt:
Uncommon Add-on for The Banshee
Increases range of Banshee Lunge by 12 meters. Decreases turn rate by 25%
"Yet with each strike, her steps become deliberate, her pursuit relentless, but measured." -Cirrus
Crossbow Stand:
Uncommon Add-on for The Banshee
Increases speed of Banshee Lunge by 50%. Decreases range by 10 meters
Father's Katana:
Rare Add-on for The Banshee
Father's Katana, a cherished relic passed down through generations
Increases lunge speed of by 25%. Increases range by 10 meters. Increases recharge time by 5 seconds
"With ancestral steel in hand, the Banshee dances upon the wind. Swifter, deadlier, her reach extends to embrace the wailing souls. Yet, with each swing, the past lingers, lingering in every step."
Father's Tools:
Rare Add-on for The Banshee
Decreases recharge time by 3 seconds. Decreases lunge speed by 20%
Old Crossbow:
Very Rare Add-on for The Banshee
A weathered relic from a forgotten era, holds a peculiar power that instills terror within the hearts of the Survivors.
All survivors within 16 meters of your lunge will scream
Charred Skin:
Very Rare Add-on for The Banshee
Gain the ability to break pallets and doors with Banshee Lunge. After breaking a pallet or door with Banshee Lunge you get 50% faster break speeds for 30 seconds
Iridescent Tuft of Hair:
Iridescent Add-on for The Banshee
This Tuft Hair is a peculiar adornment that appears to mock the Banshee's spectral nature. This whimsical accessory, shimmering with an iridescent glow, serves as a playful reminder that even in the realm of the Fog, levity can find its way amidst the darkness. It offers no tangible benefits, but its presence is a whimsical tribute to the ethereal entity that strikes fear into the hearts of Survivors.
After killing a survivor with Banshee Lunge all other survivors are revealed for 8 seconds
"With a mischievous glimmer, this Tuft Hair dances upon the Banshee's spectral visage. A playful nod to the absurdity of their existence, it brings levity to the shadows that consume the realm."
Bloody Kunai:
Golden Add-on for The Banshee
Increases range by 10 meters while in chase. Decreases range by 10 meters when not in chase
Lore:
In the tumultuous era of the Mongolian War, amidst the chaos and bloodshed, there existed a woman named Altan Khulan. She was a humble civilian, a mere bystander caught in the crossfire of warring factions. The clash of swords and thunderous hooves reverberated through the land, leaving destruction in their wake. Altan's life was forever changed when she became an unwitting pawn, kidnapped by a ruthless faction as leverage in their political machinations.
Altan Khulan was torn from her family, her fate sealed as she became a captive in the midst of the war. The ruthless faction saw her as a means to exert control, a bargaining chip to manipulate their enemies. Her spirit shattered by the cruelty of her captors, Altan yearned for freedom and the reunion with her loved ones, but the fog of war veiled her hopes in darkness.
Days turned into nights, and nights into weeks, as Altan's captivity persisted. In the depths of her despair, she discovered a sliver of solace in the haunting whispers of the wind. In the darkest moments, a mysterious force resonated within her, resonating with her anguish and offering an opportunity for vengeance and release.
With each passing day, Altan's resolve hardened, transforming her from a vulnerable captive into a woman fueled by an unquenchable fury. In the depths of her despair, a dormant power awakened within her, granting her the mantle of the Banshee, a harbinger of woe and retribution.
Empowered by the spirit of vengeance, Altan embraced her newfound abilities and cast aside her former name. She became the Banshee, a spectral embodiment of her rage and sorrow. No longer bound by the mortal coil, she could traverse the ethereal plane and wield her spirit as a weapon, piercing the hearts of those who dared to stand in her way.
In a fateful turn of events, the Banshee found herself consumed by the fog. The Entity, an enigmatic force that presides over the realm of Bloodhunt, claimed her as one of its own. The fog embraced her, merging her essence with its own, forever entwining her destiny with the eternal hunt.
Now, the Banshee roams the fog-laden landscapes, a vengeful specter driven by her insatiable thirst for retribution. She emerges from the shadows, her chilling cry echoing through the realm, striking terror into the hearts of the Hunted Survivors. With each Banshee Lunge, she leaves a trail of devastation in her wake, a reminder of the horrors she endured and the price she paid to become one with the fog.
As the Banshee, Altan Khulan transcends her mortal origins and embodies the wrath and sorrow that have consumed her. She serves as a reminder that even the most vulnerable can rise to become an unstoppable force in the face of unspeakable atrocities. The Mongolian War may have stolen her name, but it also forged her into a fearsome entity, forever known as the Banshee, forever destined to haunt the Fog.
The Prowler
Difficulty: Hard
Movement Speed: 4.5 Meters per Second
Heartbeat: 24 meters
Height: Tall
Power: Hunting Season
Perks: The Prowl, Stay out and Proper Hunting
Starter Add-ons: Worn Machete and Worn Axe Head
Prestige 1: Kill 1 survivor who gets Trapped at least once
Prestige 2: Kill 1 survivor by an Arrow
Prestige 3: Kill 1 survivor by the saw
Full Prestige: Win 15 rounds where every survivor is trapped at least once
Hunting Season:
Upon Emerging through the fog boxes appear throughout the map. Inside the map The Prowler can choose between 3 different powers
Perks:
The Prowl:
Any time you would normally down a survivor you now instantly kill them. This perk has a cooldown of 80/40/20 seconds
"With a silent and deadly presence, the Prowler's malevolence materializes in an instant. The Fog trembles as his prey falls lifeless, their existence snuffed out in a single decisive strike."
Stay Out:
Whenever you injure a survivor they also bleed. Whenever that survivor is healing their bleed they are revealed. Upon finishing the heal they are revealed for 2/4/8 seconds
"The Prowler's sadistic artistry leaves a mark that cannot be concealed."
Proper Hunting:
Any Hunters power now inflicts bleeding if the power can injure them. This bleed has a 60/30/15 second longer time to bleed out.
"The Prowler's art of hunting transcends the physical realm."
Add-ons:
Worn Machete:
Starter Add-on for The Prowler
Reveals the aura of any survivor who steps into a trap, gets hit with an arrow and gets hit with the saw for 6 seconds
"Its edge, worn but sharp, brings forth the revelations of survival's fleeting moments."
Worn Axe Head:
Starter Add-on for The Prowler
Reveals the aura of any survivor who disarms a trap, dodges an arrow, or dodges the saw for 6 seconds
"The Worn Axe Head, a testament to the Prowler's relentless pursuit"
Charred Machete:
Common Add-on for The Prowler
Increases charge speed of The Bow and Arrow by 25%. Decreases charge speed of The Saw by 25%
Charred Axe Head:
Common Add-on for The Prowler
Increases charge speed of The Saw by 25%. Decreases charge speed of The Bow and Arrow by 25%
"The Charred Axe Head, a symbol of relentless torment, delivers the scorching kiss of everlasting agony. Its fiery embrace consumes hope, leaving only the ashes of despair." -Cirrus
Original Machete:
Uncommon Add-on for The Prowler
Start the Round with The Beartraps equipped. Increases setting speed by 25%
"Its blade carries the echoes of a thousand hunts, resolute in its duty to deliver the final blow."
Original Axe Head:
Uncommon Add-on for The Prowler
Start the round with The Saw equipped. Increases saw charge speed by 5%
"Through the ages, it remains an emblem of the Prowler's unquenchable resolve."
Original Bow and Arrow:
Uncommon Add-on for The Prowler
Start the round with The Bow and Arrow equipped. Increases Bow Charge speed by 20%
Golden Axe Head:
Rare Add-on for The Prowler
Increases charge speed of The Saw and The Bow and Arrow by 25%.
Prized Bow and Arrow:
Rare Add-on for The Prowler
Decreases maximum arrows required to kill by 1.
Sharpened Arrow:
Very Rare Add-on for The Prowler
The Sharpened Arrow, a haunting reminder of past encounters, is the very same arrow that pierced the flesh of Ethan during a fateful encounter.
Decreases maximum arrows required to kill by 1. Increases charge time by 1
Bloody Hockey Mask:
Very Rare Add-on for The Prowler
Its macabre visage, marked with the scars of their encounter, instills fear and despair in those who catch a glimpse of its chilling countenance.
Survivors no longer bleed when hit with the saw. Increases saw charge speed by 30%
Broken Book Bag:
Very Rare Add-on for The Prowler
Survivors who escape from the bear trap suffer from a broken bone.
Broken Bones make the survivor 1% slower, and make all healing progress lost after 20 seconds without healing
Iridescent Axe Head:
Iridescent Add-on for The Prowler
Glinting with a malicious radiance, this axe head seeks to taunt the hunter, dredging up memories of a life filled with hardship and isolation.
Progress between The Saw and Bow and Arrow carries over.
Chipped Machete:
Golden Add-on for The Prowler
The Following effects are applied to any survivor who steps into a trap:
Broken Bones make the survivor 1% slower, and make all healing progress lost after 20 seconds without healing, Undetectable removes the Hunter's heartbeat, Exposure makes any Hunted take 2 health states when hit, Blindness makes any aura not appear
Lore:
The Prowler, a relentless and sinister hunter in the fog, once roamed the mountain resort with malicious intent. This man, whose identity remains shrouded in darkness, made the resort his hunting ground, preying upon unsuspecting victims with his deadly arsenal of a bow and arrow, traps, and a saw. His twisted desires drove him to kidnap and torment those unfortunate enough to cross his path.
One fateful day, a group of young adults arrived at the mountain resort, seeking a memorable getaway. Little did they know, their presence would become a horrifying chapter in the Prowler's dark tale. Among them were Kris, Kayley, Olivia, Kyler, Jamison, Ethan, Emma, Kara, and Anthony, each unaware of the imminent danger that awaited them.
Tragedy struck swiftly and mercilessly. Kris, a young woman full of life, tragically lost her footing and met a grim fate as her neck snapped upon impact. Kayley, another unsuspecting victim, bled out, her life force draining away. Jamison, overcome by a series of treacherous traps, met a gruesome end as his head was ensnared within their clutches. Ethan, wounded by an arrow piercing his shoulder, faced a brutal demise with his neck swiftly snapped. Emma, consumed by the unforgiving snow, was buried and suffocated beneath its icy grasp. Kara, too, fell victim to the Prowler's relentless pursuit, succumbing to a blood-soaked demise.
Yet, amidst the horrors that unfolded, three survivors emerged—Olivia, Anthony, and Kyler. In their desperate bid for survival, they managed to wound the Prowler, albeit only slightly. But in a cruel twist of fate, Anthony suffered a grievous loss, his three fingers severed in the struggle against the sadistic hunter. As they reported their harrowing ordeal to the authorities, the police were led to the mountain resort, only to discover an eerie absence. The Prowler, consumed by the ominous fog that enshrouded the realm, had vanished without a trace.
Now forever lost within the fog, the Prowler roams the twisted realm of Bloodhunt, his insatiable hunger for victims driving him to relentlessly pursue those who dare to enter his domain. The echoes of his past atrocities continue to reverberate through the mountains, serving as a haunting reminder of the terror he once inflicted upon unsuspecting souls. Olivia, Anthony, and Kyler, forever marked by their encounters with the Prowler, find themselves forever changed by their near-death experience, haunted by the nightmares that unfolded on that fateful day.
As the survivors venture into the fog-ridden realm, they must face the eternal darkness that now encompasses the Prowler. The hunt has begun anew, and their only hope for escape lies in outsmarting and evading the remorseless predator that lurks within.
The Hunted:
John Carlson
Difficulty: Moderate
Item: Flashlight
Perks: Backstab, Quick and Easy and Tenacious Detective
Prestige 1: Backstab the Hunter once using the perk Backstab
Prestige 2: Successfully get out of Chase using the perk Quick and Easy
Prestige 3: Successfully evade chase using the perk Tenacious Detective
Full Prestige: Survive 10 rounds as John Carlson
Flashlight
The Flashlight allows you to see easily in dark areas where the generators aren't finished. (No the flashlight can't blind someone)
Perks:
Backstab:
A Cunning detective knows that striking when least expected can be the key to survival
After recovering 100/50/25% while downed you get a hard skillcheck when the hunter picks you up. Successfully hitting this skillcheck drops you from the hunter's hands
"The Hunter becomes the Hunted. Just when they think they've got me, I strike back with a vengeance." -John Carlson
Quick and Easy:
This perk activates after vaulting while injured. Your grunts of pain are silenced and your blood pools are softened. This perk stays activated for 3/6/12 seconds
"In this deadly dance, every second counts. I glide through obstacles unseen, my steps a whisper in the night." -John Carlson
Tenacious Detective:
The Detective's investigative instincts persist even in the fog, granting him unparalleled awareness of his surroundings.
This perk activates after emerging through the fog. All Hunter Objects are revealed to you for 2/4/8 seconds. This perk also activates every time a generator is completed. The Killer is revealed for 2/4/8 seconds whenever a generator is completed.
"I see through their tricks, their devices. Every step we take, I unravel their dark design." -John Carlson
Add-ons:
Old Battery:
Common Add-on for John Carlson
This worn-out battery holds sentimental value for John, as it harkens back to his early days as a detective.
Increases battery life by 1 second
Battery:
Uncommon Add-on for John Carlson
Increases battery life by 2 seconds
Reinforced Battery:
Rare Add-on for John Carlson
It was a crucial tool that sustained him through long nights and perilous encounters, granting him the strength to persevere against all odds.
Increases battery life by 3 seconds
"I can withstand the storm." -John Carlson
Cracked Lenses:
Very Rare Add-on for John Carlson
These cracked lenses were once an essential part of John's detective gear, aiding him in observing details and spotting hidden clues. However, during a fateful encounter with one of his most elusive suspects, the lenses shattered, a physical representation of the shattered trust and fractured reality that followed.
Increases distance of the flashlight by 4 meters
"Stop Him!"
Iridescent Grip:
Iridescent Add-on for John Carlson
Crafted by the fog itself, it serves as a mocking symbol, highlighting the futility of trying to maintain control or unravel the mysteries that lie within. It is a stark reminder that within this twisted domain, the fog reigns supreme, and no investigation can prevail against its relentless grasp.
Allows you to blind the killer when aiming at their eyes. Blinding takes 5 seconds. Blinding lasts for 5 seconds. Decreases battery life by 1 seconds
"It Fucking Mocks me! The Fog Fucking Mocks Us! There is no escaping! There is no nothing!" -John Carlson
Scratched Battery:
Golden Add-on for John Carlson
A battery that never seems to die out when you need it to be alive.
Grants infinite life. The Flashlight will die whenever the last generator is completed.
Lore:
In the shadows of the 1970s, when crime and corruption permeated the streets, John Carlson emerged as a seasoned detective with a reputation for his tenacity and resourcefulness. Born and raised in a city plagued by lawlessness, John had a front-row seat to the injustices that unfolded daily. Determined to restore order and bring criminals to justice, he dedicated himself to his work, earning the respect of both his colleagues and the community he served.
John possessed an uncanny ability to uncover the truth, seeing beyond the façade and deciphering the intricate web of lies spun by criminals. His sharp mind and keen instincts made him a formidable adversary to those who sought to evade justice. However, as John delved deeper into the dark underbelly of the city, he unwittingly stumbled upon a secret society that thrived in the shadows—a clandestine organization known as Fog Whisperers.
Fueled by greed and power, Fog Whisperers operated with impunity, pulling the strings behind the scenes, orchestrating crime waves and manipulating key figures within the city. They saw John as a threat, a disruptor who posed a risk to their carefully constructed empire. In a calculated move to eliminate him, they devised a sinister plan.
One fateful night, as John tirelessly pursued a high-profile case, he received an anonymous tip leading him to an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of the city. Unbeknownst to him, the tip was a carefully orchestrated trap. As he ventured deeper into the derelict building, he found himself ambushed by a group of masked assailants, agents of the Fog.
A vicious struggle ensued, but John was outnumbered and overwhelmed. Despite his valiant efforts, he was overpowered, beaten within an inch of his life. The assailants, believing they had dealt the detective a fatal blow, left him for dead, disappearing into the night.
However, fate had other plans for John. As his lifeblood seeped from his battered body, he was enveloped by an otherworldly mist, a manifestation of the very darkness he had fought against. In his darkest hour, the fog claimed him, granting him an unexpected second chance at life—but forever tethered to the fog and its twisted realm.
Now one with the fog, John emerged as a hunted survivor, trapped within the nightmarish trials orchestrated by the Fog. His skills as a detective proved invaluable in his quest for survival, enabling him to outsmart and evade the relentless hunters that pursued him. Yet, the line between self-preservation and selflessness became blurred for John. His desire to survive often clashed with his moral compass, as he would not hesitate to use his companions as distractions, ensuring his own escape.
While seen by some as a helpful survivor, John's reputation was marred by his self-serving tendencies. With every trial, he walked a precarious tightrope, balancing survival and the instinct to alert the hunter for his own benefit. His conflicted nature, a blend of resourcefulness and self-interest, painted him as a complex figure among the survivors, one whose actions could be both admired and criticized.
As John ventured deeper into the trials, he was haunted by the shadows of his past, the echoes of the crime-ridden city he had once fought to protect. In the fog's merciless embrace, he sought redemption, an opportunity to atone for the compromises he had made. The path ahead was treacherous, but John Carlson, the detective of old, remained determined to survive, to unravel the mysteries of the fog, and perhaps, find a way to free himself from its unforgiving grasp.
Amy Light
Difficulty: Easy
Item: Medkit
Perks: Shattered Mirror, Fine Fettle and The Doctor in The Room
Prestige 1: Avoid the Hunter's hit by any means using Shattered Mirror
Prestige 2: Get Injured and heal yourself using the perk Fine Fettle
Prestige 3: Heal 2 other Hunted in 1 round using The Doctor in the Room
Full Prestige: Heal 20 other Hunted as Amy Light
Medkit:
Gain the ability to heal yourself, and you can now heal any other hunted 25% faster. The Medkit has a total of 5 heals before you run out of heals. This counts self heals.
Perks:
Shattered Mirror:
Reveals the aura of the killer whenever they use their power for 1/2/4 seconds
"I turn their tactics against them." -Amy Light
Fine Fettle:
Increases the speed you are healed by 10/20/40%
"Years of medical training have bestowed upon me the gift of swift recovery." -Amy Light
The Doctor in the Room:
Increases the speed at which you can heal by 10/20/40%
"Within my presence, the wounded find respite. With deftness and care, I restore vigor to their weary bodies. As my hands move, auras reveal the path to healing, uniting us in our shared journey towards survival." -Amy Light
Add-ons:
Plum Bandages:
Common Add-on for Amy Light
Increases the speed at which you can heal by 10%.
Adrenaline Vial:
Uncommon Add-on for Amy Light
After breaking from a heal the survivor getting healed gets a 5% boost for 10 seconds
Band-Aids:
Rare Add-on for Amy Light
Increases boost from hitting skillchecks by 15%
Doctor Gloves:
Very Rare Add-on for Amy Light
Increases boost from hitting skillchecks by 30%
Iridescent Vial:
Iridescent Add-on for Amy Light
Gain the ability to instantly heal a survivor at any time. Cannot be used on yourself
Doctor's Notes
Golden Add-on for Amy Light
No longer experience skillchecks while healing. The Medkit heals 50% faster than normal. 2 less heals.
Lore: Amy Light, a beacon of compassion and healing, was born into a world still reeling from the aftermath of World War II. In the wake of the devastating conflict, she emerged as a symbol of hope, dedicating her life to the noble pursuit of medicine. Amy possessed an unwavering commitment to her patients, driven by a deep sense of empathy that compelled her to alleviate suffering and restore lives shattered by the horrors of war. As a doctor, Amy witnessed firsthand the physical and emotional scars etched upon the survivors and soldiers who sought solace in her care. Her days were filled with tireless efforts to mend broken bodies and fragile spirits, tending to wounds that ran deeper than mere flesh. Despite the ravages of war, she remained steadfast in her belief that even amidst the darkest of times, a glimmer of light could be found. However, fate had a twisted plan in store for Amy. One fateful night, while attending to a patient haunted by the memories of battle, an unnatural occurrence unfolded within the walls of the hospital. The fabric of reality ripped apart, and the darkness of the Fog began to seep into her world. Chaos ensued as the hospital transformed into a nightmarish reflection of its former self, with the Fog's influence warping the very essence of its occupants. Amidst the chaos, Amy found herself trapped within the fog, torn away from the life she once knew. Stripped of her medical tools and stripped of her purpose, she was forced to navigate a realm where survival became paramount. Despite the fear and confusion that surrounded her, Amy's altruistic nature remained unyielding, and she became a guiding light for her fellow survivors. Within the trials, Amy became known for her selflessness and unwavering support for her companions. She would risk her own safety to tend to the wounded, offering solace and healing amidst the relentless pursuit of the Hunters. Her presence served as a source of comfort, as survivors found solace in her compassionate spirit, drawing strength from her unwavering commitment to their well-being. However, even the brightest lights can cast shadows, and Amy carried her own burden of survivor's guilt. Haunted by the faces of those she couldn't save, she yearned for redemption, seeking solace within the trials. Every survivor she aided, every life she mended, served as a testament to her unyielding resolve and her determination to rise above the darkness that threatened to consume them all. Though trapped within the fog, Amy remained a beacon of hope, reminding her fellow survivors that compassion and kindness could endure even in the most desolate of landscapes. In the face of unimaginable horrors, she stood as a testament to the resilience of the human spirit, a reminder that even within the darkest corners, the light of altruism could prevail.
Kris Hackley:
Difficulty: Hard
Item: Hockey Stick
Perks: Ice Skates, True Fighter and Team Captain
Prestige 1: Successfully escape chase using the perk Ice Skates
Prestige 2: Successfully escape the Hunter's grasp using the perk True Fighter
Prestige 3: Complete 1 generator and heal 1 survivor using the perk Team Captain
Full Prestige: Stun the Hunter 30 times as Kris Hackley
Hockey Stick:
While within 2 meters of the Hunter you can hit the Hunter with you hockey stick for a 2 second stun
Perks:
Ice Skates:
After stunning the killer by any means gain the haste effect for 3 seconds. After this haste ends you gain the exhausted effect for 100/50/25 seconds. Haste doubles you speed. Exhausted makes you 5% slower and you cannot experience haste while it is active.
"With every daring move, I carve my path to freedom." -Kris Hackley
True Fighter:
Increases your wiggle speed by 5/10/20%. Increases your wiggle sway by 15/30/60%
"You may think you've caught me, but I refuse to be a captive in your twisted game " -Kris Hackley
Team Captain:
Kris's natural leadership qualities shine through, even in the face of overwhelming darkness.
Increases your action speed by 3/6/12% when not within 8 meters of any of the other hunted. Increases the action speed of any of the hunted within 8 meters of you by 3/6/12%.
"Together, we are stronger. With unity and coordination, we can overcome any obstacle that lies before us. Trust in each other, and we shall prevail." -Kris Hackley
Add-ons:
Goalie Gloves:
Common Add-on for Kris Hackley
Increases swing speed by 0.5%
Hockey Putt:
Uncommon Add-on for Kris Hackley
Increases swing speed by 1%
Back Breaker:
Rare Add-on for Kris Hackley
Increases swing speed by 2%. Stunning the Hunter inflicts blindness for 20 seconds
Empty handed:
Very Rare Add-on for Kris Hackley
Gain a haste effect for 2 seconds after stunning the Hunter. Cannot be used while exhausted.
Iridescent Hockey Wrap:
Iridescent Add-on for Kris Hackley
Increases swing speed by 10%
Professional Hockey Stick:
Golden Add-on for Kris Hackley
Allows you to hit the Hunter twice before the stick breaks
Lore:
Kris Hackley had always been the embodiment of determination and leadership. As the captain of her local hockey team, she commanded respect and pushed her teammates to their limits. Yet, beneath her strong exterior, Kris harbored a simmering discontent towards those she perceived as unworthy or unfamiliar. It was this disdain that brought her to the fateful trip to the mountain, seeking an escape from the confines of her team and the pressure of her responsibilities. The day started with a hockey game, where Kris once again led her team to victory. But instead of relishing in the triumph, she found herself growing increasingly irritated with her teammates' shortcomings and mistakes. Seeking solace from the persistent frustration, Kris agreed to join her friends—Emma, Ethan, Anthony, Kyler, Kara, and her siblings Jamison and Kayley—for a weekend getaway in the serene mountain retreat. However, tensions began to rise as Anthony introduced a newcomer to the group—Olivia. Kris immediately resented the intrusion, perceiving Olivia as an unwelcome disruption to their tightly-knit circle. Her feelings of superiority and territoriality cast a shadow over the trip, as Kris became increasingly distant and hostile towards Olivia. As the group ventured further into the secluded mountain, their bonds began to strain under the weight of Kris's disdain. Unbeknownst to them, the dark presence of the fog had already begun to weave its way into their lives. It sensed Kris's isolation and resentment, drawing her closer to its clutches. Tragedy struck when Kris, consumed by her own emotions, failed to extend a helping hand to those in need. As they engaged in risky activities, disaster struck one by one. Kris watched in horror as Emma, Ethan, and Anthony succumbed to their fates—severing the already fragile bonds of friendship. Jamison and Kayley, her own siblings, suffered the consequences of her indifference. Overwhelmed with guilt and remorse, Kris found herself separated from the remaining survivors—Olivia and Kyler. Alone in the unforgiving mountain terrain, the fog began to envelop her, offering a haunting embrace that echoed her internal turmoil. In that moment, Kris's fate intertwined with the fog, becoming one with its ethereal realm. Now, as a Hunted survivor, Kris roams the trials, forever trapped within the fog's grasp. Her once fierce determination transformed into a relentless struggle for survival, and her perceived superiority challenged by the enigmatic horrors that lurk in the shadows. The lessons learned from her past failures now guide her, as she navigates the trials with a newfound sense of humility and empathy. Though the memory of her selfishness lingers, Kris's journey through the fog offers her a chance at redemption. She seeks to overcome her former limitations and forge new bonds, recognizing that unity and selflessness are the keys to survival in this twisted fog.
Kyler Hal:
Difficulty: Moderate
Item: Glasses
Perks: Survivor!, Grand Refresh and Reap what you Sow
Prestige 1: Successfully survive one trial using the perk Survivor!
Prestige 2: Successfully take 2 hits for an injured survivor using the perk Grand Refresh
Prestige 3: Successfully stun the Hunter twice while using the perk Reap what You Sow
Full Prestige: Successfully escape 10 times as Kyler Hal
Glasses:
Glasses can be equipped or unequipped at any time. While equipped all of the fog is removed, however if you are hit while they are on you break the glasses.
Perks:
Survivor!:
This perk can be activated at any time while injured. You become broken for 80/40/20 seconds. During this time you suffer from blindness and oblivious. You also make no grunts of pain. Once this time is up you become healthy once more. This perk applies exhausted for 60/30/15 seconds. Exhausted makes you 5% slower and you cannot experience haste while it is active, Blindness makes any aura not appear, Oblivious makes it so the heartbeat constantly seems further than it is, Broken makes it so the survivor cannot be healed.
"Surviving isn't just about avoiding death. It's about embracing the risks and emerging stronger." -Kyler Hal
Grand Refresh:
Gain a stack for every protection hit you take for a survivor. Every stack decreases your grunts of pain volume by 10%. Gain a maximum of 6 stacks.
"In the face of danger, I'll stand as your shield."
Reap What You Sow:
Gain a stack for every time you stun the Hunter with a pallet or door. Each stack can be used whenever you hit a skillcheck on a generator. That generator will gain 5% of its current progress added onto the generator. That generator gets revealed to the Hunter. All stacks are lost upon being downed
"Every action has consequences. Let's make sure they favor us." -Kyler Hal
Add-ons:
Metal Lining:
Common Add-on for Kyler Hal
Increases the speed you put on your glasses by 1 second
"Every second counts when darkness looms. I won't let it cloud my vision." -Kyler Hal
New Lenses:
Uncommon Add-on for Kyler Hal
These lenses have advanced optics that brighten his surroundings, allowing him to see with greater clarity even in the darkest of environments
While the glasses are active everything becomes 25% lighter
"With a clearer view, I can navigate the shadows with confidence." -Kyler Hal
Bloody Glasses:
Rare Add-on for Kyler Hal
Being hit while the glasses aren't active breaks them. Being hit while they are active does not break them
Blue Glasses:
Very Rare Add-on for Kyler Hal
Reveals the killer in blue while looking in their direction
Iridescent Lenses:
Iridescent Add-on for Kyler Hal
These unique lenses, infused with the essence of the fog, grant Kyler an extraordinary vision that transcends the boundaries of the physical world.
Removes the fog and darkness while active. Your vision becomes red while active.
"Through these lenses, I see a twisted reflection of my fate."
Golden Glasses:
Golden Add-on for Kyler Hal
Increases the fog for the killer while in chase with you AND the glasses are active
Lore:
Kyler Hal was a free-spirited adventurer, always seeking thrill and excitement in life. In the vibrant era of the 1970s, he yearned for experiences that would test the limits of his courage and fill his life with unforgettable memories. It was during this time that he found himself drawn to a mountain resort nestled in the picturesque Colorado landscape—an idyllic setting for the adventures he sought. Accompanied by his friends—Emma, Ethan, Olivia, Kris, Kayley, Jamison, Kara, and Anthony—they embarked on a journey filled with laughter and camaraderie. The mountain resort promised an escape from the constraints of the mundane world, offering a playground for their youthful spirits. Little did they know that their escapade would lead them to the unforgiving clutches of the fog. As they explored the resort's scenic trails and indulged in adrenaline-fueled activities, Kyler reveled in the freedom of the mountains. The majestic peaks seemed to call to him, urging him to push his boundaries even further. However, their joyous excursion took a dark turn when an ominous presence loomed over their group, watching their every move. Tragedy struck swiftly, as Emma, Ethan, Kris, Jamison, and Kara fell victim to the unknown malevolence that pervaded the mountain. Their lives were cut short, leaving Kyler, Olivia, and Anthony as the sole survivors of the harrowing ordeal. The weight of loss and survival weighed heavily upon Kyler's shoulders, his carefree spirit burdened by guilt and grief. It was on their journey back to civilization that the fog made its insidious move. Trapped in a dense mist that seemed to devour the world around them, Kyler found himself separated from his companions. Panic and confusion washed over him as he desperately searched for an escape, but the fog had claimed him, pulling him deeper into its eerie realm. Now condemned to wander the trials as one of the Hunted, Kyler fights to preserve the memories of his lost friends and find solace in their spirits. The fog taunts him, a constant reminder of the past he cannot change and the choices that led him to this haunting existence. His once carefree nature has morphed into a resilient determination, fueled by the desire to honor the memories of his fallen comrades and seek a way back to the world he once knew. In the trials of the Fog, Kyler's courage is put to the test, his survival dependent on his ability to adapt, cooperate, and outmaneuver the relentless Hunter. Through the fog's relentless challenges, Kyler seeks redemption, not just for himself but for the friends he lost on that fateful mountain journey. As he navigates the trials, he discovers that true strength lies not only in physical prowess but also in the bonds forged with his fellow survivors, united in their shared struggle against the encroaching darkness.
Anthony Kael:
Difficulty: Easy
Item: Toolbox
Perks: First Serve, Hate The Sinner and Panic Headed
Prestige 1: Finish 1 generator using the Perk First Serve
Prestige 2: Finish 1 Generator using the Perk Hate The Sinner
Prestige 3: Finish 1 Generator while injured using the Perk Panic Headed
Full Prestige: Finish 30 Generators as Anthony Kael
Toolbox:
Can be used while working on a generator. While using it it you complete generators 25% faster, however getting off of generators is much slower.
Perks:
First Serve:
What some may see as old scrap you see as good machinery
This perk activates after touching a generator with no progress. Gain a 25% boost on that generator until one of the following happens: You leave the generator, you are hit or you fail a skillcheck. This perk has a 60/30/15 second cooldown
"When the sparks fly, and the machines come alive, it's my chance to make a difference." -Anthony Kael
Hate The Sinner:
This perk activates for 15/30/60 seconds after being injured. Gain a 15% boost on fixing generators during this time. This boost is increased to 30% if you are deep wounded
"There's a fire inside me, a relentless drive to fix what's broken and reclaim our chance at survival." -Anthony Kael
Panic Headed:
Unlike most, you don't scream from Injuries. You take the pain and laugh in the face of death
Gain a 3/6/12% boost to all actions while injured
"When the world spins in chaos, my mind clears. Panic fuels my every move, heightening my senses and sharpening my focus" -Anthony Kael
Add-ons:
Spanner Wrench:
Common Add-on for Anthony Kael
Increases speed by 2%
Measuring tape:
Uncommon Add-on for Anthony Kael
Increases speed at which you put the toolbox away by 15%
Metal Mallet:
Rare Add-on for Anthony Kael
Increases boost from skillchecks by 5%
Screwdriver:
Very Rare Add-on for Anthony Kael
Increases boost from skillchecks by 10%
Iridescent Screwdriver:
Iridescent Add-on for Anthony Kael
Increases boost from skillchecks by 20%. Toolbox now deactivates whenever the first generator is completed
Golden Wrench:
Golden Add-on for Anthony Kael
Gain the ability to sabotage Traps. Decreases boost from skillchecks by 2%
Lore:
Born with an innate talent for tinkering and fixing things, Anthony spent his days as a dedicated technician, ensuring that machinery and devices functioned flawlessly. However, his life took an unexpected turn when he embarked on a fateful trip to a serene mountain resort with his friends, unaware of the horrors that awaited them. As Anthony and his group of friends arrived at the picturesque resort, tensions ran high. Despite the warnings, Anthony insisted on bringing Olivia, a newcomer who was not well-received by the others. Little did they know that their collective actions would lead them down a path of darkness and despair. Tragedy befell the group one by one, as the mountain became a hunting ground for an insidious force. Ethan, struck by an arrow, met a grisly fate with a snapped neck. Emma, entangled in the gnarled bark, was mercilessly slammed into the snow until life left her body. Kris, the team captain, met a fatal end when she plummeted from the treacherous mountainside, her neck snapping upon impact. Kayley, left to bleed out on a meathook, succumbed to her injuries. Jamison's ill-fated encounter with a bear trap sealed his fate, leaving him lifeless. Kara, too, fell victim to a cruel trap, bleeding out as her final moments slipped away. Amidst the bloodshed and loss, Anthony, Kyler, and Olivia found themselves as the sole survivors. They navigated the treacherous terrain, their bond forged in the crucible of survival. However, their resilience would be tested further as they encountered the enigmatic force that lurked within the fog. As Anthony faced the horrors unfolding around him, his resourcefulness and technical prowess became his greatest assets. Cirrus, drawn to his unwavering determination and problem-solving skills, claimed Anthony as its own, entwining his fate with the merciless trials that awaited him in the fog. Haunted by the memories of his fallen friends, Anthony now roams the fog, driven by a relentless need to uncover the mysteries of his tragic past and outwit the forces that seek to consume him. With his technical expertise and a determination that knows no bounds, he fights for survival, ready to uncover the truth behind the malevolent presence that binds them all.
Kara Scaler:
Difficulty: Easy
Item: Boots
Perks: Back Track, The Queen and Sixth Sense
Prestige 1: Successfully escape from Chase using the perk Back Track
Prestige 2: Successfully escape with at least 1 other Hunted using the perk The Queen
Prestige 3: Successfully hide from the Hunter using the perk Sixth Sense
Full Prestige: Escape 10 chases as Kara Scaler
Boots:
You run 1% faster than all other survivors. Your footsteps are silent.
Perks:
Back Track:
After vaulting through a window your grunts of pain and pools of blood are removed for 2/4/8 seconds. Once this time ends your pools of blood backtrack the the vault location.
"In this tangled game of survival, every moment counts. I leave no traces behind, vanishing into the shadows. They'll never know where I truly tread." -Kara Scaler
The Queen:
Reveals your aura to all survivors. While injured all survivors gain a 5/10/20% boost to healing. All of the Hunted who escape gain a 100% boost in experience
"The Queen commands, and her will is absolute. Together, we rise above the pain and despair." -Kara Scaler
Sixth Sense:
Reveals the aura of the Hunter for 3/6/12 seconds when you hear their heartbeat. While within the heartbeat of the hunter gain a 3/6/12% boost to all actions
Add-ons:
Soft Tissue:
Increases movement speed by 0.5%
Steel Toe Boots:
Increases movement speed by 5%. Removes the silent footstep effect
Leather Boots:
Increases vaulting speed by 5%. Removes the silent footstep effect
Winter Boots:
Removes the silent footstep effect. Increases speed after being hit by 10%
Iridescent Tissue:
Increases movement speed by 3%. This stacks while Deep wounded.
Fur Boots:
Removes the silent footstep effect. Increases movement speed by 2%. Increases vaulting speed by 3%. Increases wiggle sway by 20%
Lore:
A striking figure with an air of independence and a disquieting aura, Kara possessed a longing for control and an unspoken desire for affection that ultimately drove her down a treacherous road. Intrigued by the allure of the Hackley mountain resort, Kara insisted on gathering a group of friends for an adventure. Among them were the determined Kris, the gentle Kayley, the steadfast Kyler, the empathetic Anthony, and the spirited duo of Ethan and Emma. Despite her reservations, Anthony chose to invite his friend Olivia, much to Kara's discontent. Her desire to maintain a close-knit circle was fueled by an underlying fear of losing control. Within the group, Kara clashed with Kris, a natural leader whose presence threatened Kara's own desire for dominance. She held an unspoken disdain for Kayley, who had a deep connection with Jamison, Kara's secret love interest. The weight of unrequited affection burdened her heart, and only Anthony, her confidant, shared her pain and understood her longing. As they ventured into the heart of the mountain resort, the group encountered unspeakable horrors. Emma's tragic demise shattered Kara's world, traumatizing her to the core. The harrowing scene would forever haunt her memories, igniting a primal fear and unraveling the fragile threads of her composure. In the midst of chaos, Kara's selfishness and desperation propelled her into the forest, seeking refuge from the horrors that unfolded. But fate had other plans in store. Trapped by a vicious bear trap, Kara cried out for help, her screams echoing through the night. Hours passed, each moment a torment as she wrestled with pain, fear, and regret. As the agonizing hours slipped away, Kara's desperate pleas were answered by an unexpected force. The fog, sensing her turmoil and her broken spirit, reached out to claim her as its own. It enveloped her in its ethereal embrace, forever sealing her fate within its enigmatic realm. Lost to her friends and the world she once knew, Kara became a reflection of her own inner turmoil—a haunting reminder of the consequences of selfishness and the yearning for control. In the fog's clutches, she is condemned to wander, her soul forever tormented by the choices and regrets that shaped her tragic journey.
Maps:
Harvest Haven:
Type: Abandoned Farmlands
Harvest Haven is an eerie and desolate farmland, haunted by the memories of a tragic event. Once a thriving agricultural community, it now stands abandoned and forgotten, overrun by overgrown crops and ominous scarecrows. Dilapidated barns, broken fences, and rusted farming equipment serve as reminders of a life that was abruptly shattered.
Main Building: Farmhouse. The Main building has 1 generator inside it, and when the generator is completed the lights inside are turned on. (Safety: Safe)
Size: Moderate
Resort Ruins:
Type: Mountain Resort
The Resort Ruins capture the remnants of what was once a luxurious mountain getaway. Now reduced to a desolate and overgrown wasteland, the ruins bear witness to the horrors that unfolded within their walls. Collapsed structures, cracked swimming pools, and twisted amusement park rides serve as eerie reminders of the resort's tragic past.
Main Building: Ski Lodge. The Main building has 1 generator inside the basement. Upon this generator being completed the lights inside and outside are turned on. (Safety: Balanced)
Side Building: Ski Lift. The Side building has 1 generator. Upon this generator being completed the lights inside are turned on. (Safety: Unsafe)
Size: Moderate
The Prowler's Shack:
Type: Mountain Resort
The Prowler's Shack is a secluded and ominous structure tucked away deep within the fog. It serves as the dwelling place of The Prowler, a twisted refuge where he orchestrates his malevolent pursuits. The shack is surrounded by dense forest, and the air is filled with an unsettling stillness, as if nature itself holds its breath in fear.
Main Building: Prowler's Shack. The main building has no generator inside it. (Safety: Balanced)
Size: Small
Derelict Manor:
Type: Mountain Resort
Derelict Manor is an abandoned and decaying building that once stood as a grand mansion. Time has taken its toll on the once opulent structure, leaving behind a maze of crumbling hallways, broken furniture, and faded portraits. The atmosphere is heavy with a sense of abandonment and despair, perfectly reflecting the darkness that haunts The Prowler's past.
Main Building: The Manor. The Main building has 3 generators inside it. Once all generators inside it are fixed all lights inside it turn on. (Safety: Very Safe)
Size: Large
Fog Offerings:
Forgotten Ritual: Common Offering. Increases the chance of going to Abandoned Farmlands by 25%.
Faded Postcard: Common Offering. Increases the chance of going to Mountain resort by 25%
Vengeful Spirit: Common Offering. Increases the chance of becoming the Hunter by 25%
Desperate Prayer: Common Offering. Increases the chance of becoming the Hunted by 25%
Bloodstained Ledger: Common Offering. Increases the amount of experience you get by 25%
Cursed Cornfield: Uncommon Offering. Increases the chance of going to Abandoned Farmlands by 50%
Ripped Blueprints: Uncommon Offering. Increases the chance of going to Mountain resort by 50%
Dark Embrace: Uncommon Offering. Increases the chance of becoming the Hunter by 50%
Beacon of Hope: Uncommon Offering. Increases the chance of becoming the Hunted by 50%
Knowledge Tome: Uncommon Offering. Increases the amount of experience you get by 50%
Harvest's Call: Rare Offering. Increases the chance of going to Abandoned Farmlands by 75%
Ruined Brochure: Rare Offering. Increases the chance of going to Mountain Resort by 75%
Blood Oath: Rare Offering. Increases the chance of becoming the Hunter by 75%
Survivor's Pledge: Rare Offering. Increases the chance of becoming the Hunted by 75%
Duo Dice: Rare Offering. Increases the amount of experience you get by 75%
Hunter's Mark: Very Rare Offering. Increases the chance of becoming the Hunter by 100%. If two are placed both Offerings are discarded
Survival Talisman: Very Rare Offering. Increases the chance of becoming the Hunted by 100%. If five are placed all offerings are discarded
Essence Amplifier: Very Rare Offering. Increases the amount of experience gained by 100%
submitted by LoyddSteroid to bloodhuntPOD [link] [comments]
HUNTED:
The Scarecrow
Difficulty: Moderate
Movement Speed: 4.6 Meters Per Second
Heartbeat: 24 Meters
Height: Moderate
Power: Lantern of Fear
Perks: Fear of Reality, Kill Streak and Skewered
Starter Add-ons: The Face of Fear Mask and Broken Light Bulb
Prestige 1: Kill 5 Hunted with a +25% Fear Bar
Prestige 2: Kill 10 Hunted with a +50% Fear Bar
Prestige 3: Kill 15 Hunted with a +75% Fear Bar
Full Prestige: Win 10 Matches where every Hunted is killed with a Full Fear Bar
Add-on Count: 14
Lantern of Fear
The Lantern of Fear can be used on any survivor. While using the Lantern of Fear you are slowed down to 4.3 Meters Per Second. The Hunted can be put into 4 tiers of Fear. Upon reaching a new Tier The Hunted are immune to gaining more fear for 10 seconds.
Hunted Tier 1: The World becomes Orange, making everything much hard to see
Hunted Tier 2: Hallucinations randomly appear walking. From this point onwards the Hunted slowly gain more fear whenever they aren't near any other survivor
Hunted Tier 3: A distant Heartbeat is heard
Hunted Tier 4: Every Time The Hunted see each other they will scream. A Constant Heartbeat is heard.
Interacting with a Hunted survivor who is in a lower tier of fear than you makes you slowly lose fear. The Current Fear state of any of the Hunted is not revealed to the Hunter
Perks
Fear of Reality:
The Hunter's deep connection to the ethereal realm grants him unparalleled efficiency in wielding his powers.
Increases the efficiency of all powers by 5/10/20%.
"Fear not the darkness, for it is your own sanity that shall crumble before him." - Jonathan Blackwood, before succumbing to the madness of the fog
Killstreak:
As the Hunter weaves their way through the fog, their malevolent presence disturbs the very essence of his surroundings.
This perk activates after injuring a Hunted Survivor while in chase. All of the Hunted within 4/8/16/32 meters of The Hunted Survivor in chase is revealed. This perk has a 60/30/15 second cooldown
"As the tally of his victims rises, so too does his insatiable hunger, an eternal hunger that feeds on your very essence." -Cirrus
Skewered:
The Hunter's arsenal of terror expands with each fateful encounter.
Gain a stack every time you injure a Hunted Survivor, up to a maximum of 5 stacks. Each stack increases your lunge by 0.25/0.5/1 meters.
"In the clutches of the Scarecrow's grasp, time unravels, and reality warps into a twisted nightmare." -Cirrus
Add-ons:
The Face of Fear Mask:
Starter Add-on for the Scarecrow
The Face of Fear Mask, a haunting artifact in the possession of the Scarecrow, serves as a conduit for the embodiment of pure terror.
Upon a Hunted Survivor reaching tier 4 they become exposed for 20 seconds
Exposure makes any Hunted take 2 health states when hit
Broken Light Bulb:
Starter Add-on for The Scarecrow
The Broken Light Bulb serves as a chilling reminder that no sanctuary can be found within the fog's enigmatic embrace.
Upon a Hunted Survivor reaching tier 4 they cannot use their item until they leave Tier 4
"The flickering light fades, shrouding you in darkness."
Crow Reaper:
Common Add-on for The Scarecrow
The Crow Reaper, a foreboding implement affixed to the Scarecrow's lantern, beckons the dark forces of the avian realm.
Increases range of Lantern of Fear by 15 meters (25 meters)
"In the wake of my haunting presence, the crows gather, harbingers of your imminent demise" -The Scarecrow
Crow Caller:
Common Add-on for The Scarecrow
The Crow Caller, a macabre attachment affixed to the Scarecrow's person, summons an unsettling entourage of spectral crows.
Whenever a Hunted Survivor enters tier 4 they gain a crow that screeches whenever they are within the Scarecrow's Heartbeat
"Beware the call of the crows, for they herald my approach" -The Scarecrow
Lit Candle:
Common Add-on for The Scarecrow
Increases movement speed when using the Lantern of Fear by 0.3 meters per second. Decreases movement speed when not using The Lantern of Fear by 0.3 meters per second. Increases all Fog Stones at the end of the round by 100%
Crow Invader:
Uncommon Add-on for The Scarecrow
A macabre charm fashioned from the feathers of dark, otherworldly crows, the Crow Invader radiates an eerie energy that resonates with The Scarecrow's presence.
Upon a survivor leaving any fear state they become exposed for 20 seconds
"Expose the trembling prey as they flee, and watch their hope wither in the mists." -The Fog, telling The Scarecrow his purpose
Crow Killer:
Uncommon Add-on for The Scarecrow
The Crow Killer, a wicked contrivance of The Scarecrow's malevolence, embodies his desire to ensnare the Hunted Survivors within a web of terror
Reveals the aura of any Hunted Survivor in Tier 1 or higher whenever they complete a skillcheck for 3 seconds
"Every act of defiance shall be met with revelation. The crows bear witness to your torment, and their caws shall herald your impending doom." -The Fog
Crow Feather:
Uncommon Add-on for The Scarecrow
The Crow Feather, a sinister artifact tied to the dark powers of The Scarecrow, shrouds him in a veil of stealth and deception.
Whenever a Hunted survivor enters tier 4 you become undetectable for 25 seconds
Undetectable removes the Hunter's heartbeat
"Silent as the wind's whisper, I tread upon your trembling dreams." -The Scarecrow
Crow Meat:
Rare Add-on for The Scarecrow
Whenever a survivor enters a new fear state they gain the Blindness effect for 30 seconds
Blindness makes any aura not appear
"Feast upon the crow's cursed flesh and feel the world fade to darkness. In fear's embrace, your eyes shall betray you, lost amidst the shadows of your own despair."
Crow Beak:
Rare add-on for The Scarecrow
Reveals the aura of all survivors within the range of Lantern of Fear
"Beneath the Scarecrow's gaze, no secret shall hide."
Moldy Crow:
Very Rare Add-on for The Scarecrow
The Moldy Crow, a decaying relic steeped in The Scarecrow's dark powers, inflicts a sinister influence upon the Hunted Survivors.
Any Hunted Survivor within tier 4 becomes oblivious
Crow Bone:
Very Rare Add-on for The Scarecrow
Once emerging from the Fog all Hunted Survivors start to gain fear up to tier 1.
"From the first step, your souls shall be tainted with fear, forever haunted by the specter of your impending demise." -The Scarecrow
Iridescent Crow:
Iridescent Add-on for The Scarecrow
A cruel "present" from the Fog itself, serves as a mocking reminder to The Scarecrow of his past life and his eternal entrapment within its grasp.
Reveals the aura of any Hunted survivor whenever they enter a new fear state for 5 seconds
"Behold this Crow, a twisted jest from the Fog's cruel heart. It is formed from the very roots of the Fog, and shows that you are still a man compared to the Fog" -Cirrus
Crow Wing:
Golden Add-on for The Scarecrow
Injuring a survivor who is in tier 3 or higher makes them broken until they are in tier 2
Broken means that survivor cannot heal
Lore:
In the late 19th century, during the unsettling era of the Industrial Revolution, a small farming community nestled deep within the heartland of a forgotten country thrived under the care of a diligent and compassionate farmer named Jonathan Blackwood. As the crops flourished, so did the hopes and dreams of the townsfolk who relied on the bountiful harvest to sustain their humble lives.
Jonathan possessed an uncanny talent for tending to the land, seemingly blessed by nature itself. With his expertise, the fields yielded more than ever before, and the villagers marveled at the abundance of food that spilled forth from the earth. The sight of the flourishing crops enchanted the townsfolk, and their admiration for Jonathan soon transformed into something akin to worship.
However, as the seasons passed, the prosperity that once enveloped the farming community began to wane. The crops withered, livestock perished, and a sense of despair hung heavily in the air. Blighted by a mysterious blight that defied explanation, the town faced an imminent threat of famine.
Desperate to save his beloved community, Jonathan turned to the forbidden arts of the occult. Rumors whispered of his nocturnal excursions to ancient burial grounds, where he sought guidance from the spirits of the departed. Driven by his love for the people who depended on him, Jonathan was willing to do whatever it took to restore the land's fertility and safeguard their futures.
It was during one fateful moonlit night that Jonathan stumbled upon a hidden chamber within an ancient burial mound. Within its depths lay an ornate lantern, its ethereal glow pulsating with a sinister energy. Overwhelmed by a mixture of awe and trepidation, Jonathan cautiously reached out and touched the lantern, and as his fingers brushed against its surface, an unholy pact was forged.
The spirit that inhabited the lantern, a malevolent entity known as Mirage, sought vengeance for its own tragic demise centuries earlier. Empowered by the farmer's desperation, it offered Jonathan a twisted bargain. In exchange for the spirit's guidance and the restoration of the land, Jonathan would become the vessel through which the spirit would unleash its wrath upon the world.
Blinded by his desire to save his community, Jonathan accepted the wicked pact. In that moment, Mirage's essence seeped into his very being, transforming him into a grotesque amalgamation of man and spirit. The once kind-hearted farmer was reborn as The Scarecrow, a twisted figure shrouded in tattered garments and adorned with straw-stuffed limbs, his hollow eyes burning with otherworldly fury.
With the newfound powers granted by Mirage, The Scarecrow returned to his dying community. As he roamed the moonlit fields, the eerie glow of the lantern he now wielded cast long, haunting shadows across the barren landscape. The presence of The Scarecrow alone brought terror to the hearts of the townsfolk, as they realized that their beloved farmer had been irrevocably changed by dark forces.
No longer bound by the limitations of mortal flesh, The Scarecrow's malevolence manifested through the powers of the lantern. As he stalked his prey, the lantern's glow intensified, and an oppressive mist engulfed the surroundings. Within this ethereal fog, the Hunted found their senses dulled, their movements slowed, and their chances of survival diminished.
The Scarecrow reveled in the torment of his victims, deriving sadistic pleasure from their despair. The once benevolent farmer had become an embodiment of fear, a being who lurked within the mist, harvesting the souls of those unfortunate enough to cross his path. The townsfolk's worship had been replaced by fear.
The Banshee
Difficulty: Hard
Movement Speed: 4 Meters per Second
Heartbeat: 32 meters
Height: Small
Power: Banshee Lunge
Perks: Banshee Scream, Lust for Blood and Death Immunity
Starter Add-ons: Crystal Ball and Timid Death Poster
Prestige 1: Kill 1 survivor with Banshee Lunge
Prestige 2: Kill 2 survivors with Banshee Lunge
Prestige 3: Kill 3 survivors with Banshee Lunge
Full Prestige: Win 15 Matches where the final kill was using the Banshee lunge
Add-on Count: 12
Banshee Lunge
Banshee Lunge can be charged.
Base Range: 15 meters
Charged Range: 30 meters
Hitting a survivor with Banshee Lunge will injure them for 1 health state. Banshee Lunge counts as a Special Attack. Hitting a deep wounded survivor with Banshee Lunge instantly kills them.
Perks:
Banshee Scream:
The Hunter's presence strikes fear into the hearts of the prey, invoking a visceral response with their deadly strikes. Upon ending the life of a survivor, the echoes of their dying breath send ripples of terror through their injured comrades.
Upon killing a survivor all injured survivors scream and reveal their auras for 3/6/12 seconds
"In the wake of death, the Banshee's cry echoes, striking terror into the wounded souls. Their screams reveal their fate, a chilling reminder of the inevitable."
Lust for Blood:
The Hunter's unyielding thirst for retribution sharpens their senses, granting a keen awareness of the wounded.
Reveals the aura of any survivor being healed for 2/4/8 seconds. This perk's icon lights up while it is active
"The Banshee's hunger grows with every drop of blood spilled. Her eyes keenly watch the wounded, exposing their feeble attempts to mend their broken bodies."
Death Immunity:
The Hunter's relentless pursuit of vengeance grants a formidable resilience in the face of adversity.
Upon injuring that survivor that survivor also suffers from bleed. After being stunned by any means you gain a 50% breaking speed for 10/20/40 seconds. This perk has a cooldown of 80/40/20 seconds
"The Banshee cannot be deterred by mere resistance." -Cirrus
Add-ons:
Crystal Ball:
Starter Add-on for The Banshee
The Crystal Ball, a mystic artifact in the Banshee's possession, grants her a glimpse into the fate of those she strikes with her Lunge
Reveals the aura of any survivor who vaults over a window for 3 seconds after injuring a survivor with Banshee Lunge
"The Crystal Ball gazes into the depths of their torment, revealing the futility of their attempts to flee"
Timid Death Poster:
Starter Add-on for The Banshee
Reveals the aura of all survivors for 4 seconds whenever you kill someone with Banshee Lunge
"In their fear, they are exposed, mere prey in the Banshee's unending hunt."
Screwdriver Head:
Common Add-on for The Banshee
A twisted modification to the Banshee's deadly instrument, imbues her with an eerie and unsettling power.
After deep wounding a survivor with Banshee Lunge you become Undetectable for 25 seconds
"The Banshee slips through the realm undetected, her wrath hidden until it is too late."
Training Sword:
Common Add-on for The Banshee
Reduces range of Banshee Lunge by 8 meters. Increases maximum Lunges by 1 (2 lunges). Increases turn rate by 25%
"Precision over distance, agility over reach." -Altan Khulan
Crossbow Bolt:
Uncommon Add-on for The Banshee
Increases range of Banshee Lunge by 12 meters. Decreases turn rate by 25%
"Yet with each strike, her steps become deliberate, her pursuit relentless, but measured." -Cirrus
Crossbow Stand:
Uncommon Add-on for The Banshee
Increases speed of Banshee Lunge by 50%. Decreases range by 10 meters
Father's Katana:
Rare Add-on for The Banshee
Father's Katana, a cherished relic passed down through generations
Increases lunge speed of by 25%. Increases range by 10 meters. Increases recharge time by 5 seconds
"With ancestral steel in hand, the Banshee dances upon the wind. Swifter, deadlier, her reach extends to embrace the wailing souls. Yet, with each swing, the past lingers, lingering in every step."
Father's Tools:
Rare Add-on for The Banshee
Decreases recharge time by 3 seconds. Decreases lunge speed by 20%
Old Crossbow:
Very Rare Add-on for The Banshee
A weathered relic from a forgotten era, holds a peculiar power that instills terror within the hearts of the Survivors.
All survivors within 16 meters of your lunge will scream
Charred Skin:
Very Rare Add-on for The Banshee
Gain the ability to break pallets and doors with Banshee Lunge. After breaking a pallet or door with Banshee Lunge you get 50% faster break speeds for 30 seconds
Iridescent Tuft of Hair:
Iridescent Add-on for The Banshee
This Tuft Hair is a peculiar adornment that appears to mock the Banshee's spectral nature. This whimsical accessory, shimmering with an iridescent glow, serves as a playful reminder that even in the realm of the Fog, levity can find its way amidst the darkness. It offers no tangible benefits, but its presence is a whimsical tribute to the ethereal entity that strikes fear into the hearts of Survivors.
After killing a survivor with Banshee Lunge all other survivors are revealed for 8 seconds
"With a mischievous glimmer, this Tuft Hair dances upon the Banshee's spectral visage. A playful nod to the absurdity of their existence, it brings levity to the shadows that consume the realm."
Bloody Kunai:
Golden Add-on for The Banshee
Increases range by 10 meters while in chase. Decreases range by 10 meters when not in chase
Lore:
In the tumultuous era of the Mongolian War, amidst the chaos and bloodshed, there existed a woman named Altan Khulan. She was a humble civilian, a mere bystander caught in the crossfire of warring factions. The clash of swords and thunderous hooves reverberated through the land, leaving destruction in their wake. Altan's life was forever changed when she became an unwitting pawn, kidnapped by a ruthless faction as leverage in their political machinations.
Altan Khulan was torn from her family, her fate sealed as she became a captive in the midst of the war. The ruthless faction saw her as a means to exert control, a bargaining chip to manipulate their enemies. Her spirit shattered by the cruelty of her captors, Altan yearned for freedom and the reunion with her loved ones, but the fog of war veiled her hopes in darkness.
Days turned into nights, and nights into weeks, as Altan's captivity persisted. In the depths of her despair, she discovered a sliver of solace in the haunting whispers of the wind. In the darkest moments, a mysterious force resonated within her, resonating with her anguish and offering an opportunity for vengeance and release.
With each passing day, Altan's resolve hardened, transforming her from a vulnerable captive into a woman fueled by an unquenchable fury. In the depths of her despair, a dormant power awakened within her, granting her the mantle of the Banshee, a harbinger of woe and retribution.
Empowered by the spirit of vengeance, Altan embraced her newfound abilities and cast aside her former name. She became the Banshee, a spectral embodiment of her rage and sorrow. No longer bound by the mortal coil, she could traverse the ethereal plane and wield her spirit as a weapon, piercing the hearts of those who dared to stand in her way.
In a fateful turn of events, the Banshee found herself consumed by the fog. The Entity, an enigmatic force that presides over the realm of Bloodhunt, claimed her as one of its own. The fog embraced her, merging her essence with its own, forever entwining her destiny with the eternal hunt.
Now, the Banshee roams the fog-laden landscapes, a vengeful specter driven by her insatiable thirst for retribution. She emerges from the shadows, her chilling cry echoing through the realm, striking terror into the hearts of the Hunted Survivors. With each Banshee Lunge, she leaves a trail of devastation in her wake, a reminder of the horrors she endured and the price she paid to become one with the fog.
As the Banshee, Altan Khulan transcends her mortal origins and embodies the wrath and sorrow that have consumed her. She serves as a reminder that even the most vulnerable can rise to become an unstoppable force in the face of unspeakable atrocities. The Mongolian War may have stolen her name, but it also forged her into a fearsome entity, forever known as the Banshee, forever destined to haunt the Fog.
The Prowler
Difficulty: Hard
Movement Speed: 4.5 Meters per Second
Heartbeat: 24 meters
Height: Tall
Power: Hunting Season
Perks: The Prowl, Stay out and Proper Hunting
Starter Add-ons: Worn Machete and Worn Axe Head
Prestige 1: Kill 1 survivor who gets Trapped at least once
Prestige 2: Kill 1 survivor by an Arrow
Prestige 3: Kill 1 survivor by the saw
Full Prestige: Win 15 rounds where every survivor is trapped at least once
Hunting Season:
Upon Emerging through the fog boxes appear throughout the map. Inside the map The Prowler can choose between 3 different powers
- He can choose The Bow and Arrow, which takes 6 shots to kill a survivor. The 6th shot will always instantly kill the survivor. While charging an arrow his movement speed is slowed to 4.2 Meters per Second
- He can choose The Traps, which can be placed, up to 4 can be placed at a time. They can be placed and moved at any given time. Stepping into a trap will make the survivor bleed.
- He can choose The Saw, which can be charged and will injure the survivor for 2 health states and make the survivor bleed. Hitting a deep wounded survivor instantly kills them. While charging the saw his movement speed is slowed to 4 meters per second. Upon activating it you gain a short burst of speed for 3 seconds, and then the saw overheats for 10 seconds
Perks:
The Prowl:
Any time you would normally down a survivor you now instantly kill them. This perk has a cooldown of 80/40/20 seconds
"With a silent and deadly presence, the Prowler's malevolence materializes in an instant. The Fog trembles as his prey falls lifeless, their existence snuffed out in a single decisive strike."
Stay Out:
Whenever you injure a survivor they also bleed. Whenever that survivor is healing their bleed they are revealed. Upon finishing the heal they are revealed for 2/4/8 seconds
"The Prowler's sadistic artistry leaves a mark that cannot be concealed."
Proper Hunting:
Any Hunters power now inflicts bleeding if the power can injure them. This bleed has a 60/30/15 second longer time to bleed out.
"The Prowler's art of hunting transcends the physical realm."
Add-ons:
Worn Machete:
Starter Add-on for The Prowler
Reveals the aura of any survivor who steps into a trap, gets hit with an arrow and gets hit with the saw for 6 seconds
"Its edge, worn but sharp, brings forth the revelations of survival's fleeting moments."
Worn Axe Head:
Starter Add-on for The Prowler
Reveals the aura of any survivor who disarms a trap, dodges an arrow, or dodges the saw for 6 seconds
"The Worn Axe Head, a testament to the Prowler's relentless pursuit"
Charred Machete:
Common Add-on for The Prowler
Increases charge speed of The Bow and Arrow by 25%. Decreases charge speed of The Saw by 25%
Charred Axe Head:
Common Add-on for The Prowler
Increases charge speed of The Saw by 25%. Decreases charge speed of The Bow and Arrow by 25%
"The Charred Axe Head, a symbol of relentless torment, delivers the scorching kiss of everlasting agony. Its fiery embrace consumes hope, leaving only the ashes of despair." -Cirrus
Original Machete:
Uncommon Add-on for The Prowler
Start the Round with The Beartraps equipped. Increases setting speed by 25%
"Its blade carries the echoes of a thousand hunts, resolute in its duty to deliver the final blow."
Original Axe Head:
Uncommon Add-on for The Prowler
Start the round with The Saw equipped. Increases saw charge speed by 5%
"Through the ages, it remains an emblem of the Prowler's unquenchable resolve."
Original Bow and Arrow:
Uncommon Add-on for The Prowler
Start the round with The Bow and Arrow equipped. Increases Bow Charge speed by 20%
Golden Axe Head:
Rare Add-on for The Prowler
Increases charge speed of The Saw and The Bow and Arrow by 25%.
Prized Bow and Arrow:
Rare Add-on for The Prowler
Decreases maximum arrows required to kill by 1.
Sharpened Arrow:
Very Rare Add-on for The Prowler
The Sharpened Arrow, a haunting reminder of past encounters, is the very same arrow that pierced the flesh of Ethan during a fateful encounter.
Decreases maximum arrows required to kill by 1. Increases charge time by 1
Bloody Hockey Mask:
Very Rare Add-on for The Prowler
Its macabre visage, marked with the scars of their encounter, instills fear and despair in those who catch a glimpse of its chilling countenance.
Survivors no longer bleed when hit with the saw. Increases saw charge speed by 30%
Broken Book Bag:
Very Rare Add-on for The Prowler
Survivors who escape from the bear trap suffer from a broken bone.
Broken Bones make the survivor 1% slower, and make all healing progress lost after 20 seconds without healing
Iridescent Axe Head:
Iridescent Add-on for The Prowler
Glinting with a malicious radiance, this axe head seeks to taunt the hunter, dredging up memories of a life filled with hardship and isolation.
Progress between The Saw and Bow and Arrow carries over.
- 4 or more arrows inside a survivor can now allow the saw to kill the survivor
- 1 saw hit can now allow 1 arrow to kill the survivor
- Beartraps who trap deep wounded survivors now instantly kill that survivor
Chipped Machete:
Golden Add-on for The Prowler
The Following effects are applied to any survivor who steps into a trap:
- The survivor gains the blindness effect for 30 seconds
- The survivor gains a broken bone
- The survivor becomes exposed for 30 seconds
Broken Bones make the survivor 1% slower, and make all healing progress lost after 20 seconds without healing, Undetectable removes the Hunter's heartbeat, Exposure makes any Hunted take 2 health states when hit, Blindness makes any aura not appear
Lore:
The Prowler, a relentless and sinister hunter in the fog, once roamed the mountain resort with malicious intent. This man, whose identity remains shrouded in darkness, made the resort his hunting ground, preying upon unsuspecting victims with his deadly arsenal of a bow and arrow, traps, and a saw. His twisted desires drove him to kidnap and torment those unfortunate enough to cross his path.
One fateful day, a group of young adults arrived at the mountain resort, seeking a memorable getaway. Little did they know, their presence would become a horrifying chapter in the Prowler's dark tale. Among them were Kris, Kayley, Olivia, Kyler, Jamison, Ethan, Emma, Kara, and Anthony, each unaware of the imminent danger that awaited them.
Tragedy struck swiftly and mercilessly. Kris, a young woman full of life, tragically lost her footing and met a grim fate as her neck snapped upon impact. Kayley, another unsuspecting victim, bled out, her life force draining away. Jamison, overcome by a series of treacherous traps, met a gruesome end as his head was ensnared within their clutches. Ethan, wounded by an arrow piercing his shoulder, faced a brutal demise with his neck swiftly snapped. Emma, consumed by the unforgiving snow, was buried and suffocated beneath its icy grasp. Kara, too, fell victim to the Prowler's relentless pursuit, succumbing to a blood-soaked demise.
Yet, amidst the horrors that unfolded, three survivors emerged—Olivia, Anthony, and Kyler. In their desperate bid for survival, they managed to wound the Prowler, albeit only slightly. But in a cruel twist of fate, Anthony suffered a grievous loss, his three fingers severed in the struggle against the sadistic hunter. As they reported their harrowing ordeal to the authorities, the police were led to the mountain resort, only to discover an eerie absence. The Prowler, consumed by the ominous fog that enshrouded the realm, had vanished without a trace.
Now forever lost within the fog, the Prowler roams the twisted realm of Bloodhunt, his insatiable hunger for victims driving him to relentlessly pursue those who dare to enter his domain. The echoes of his past atrocities continue to reverberate through the mountains, serving as a haunting reminder of the terror he once inflicted upon unsuspecting souls. Olivia, Anthony, and Kyler, forever marked by their encounters with the Prowler, find themselves forever changed by their near-death experience, haunted by the nightmares that unfolded on that fateful day.
As the survivors venture into the fog-ridden realm, they must face the eternal darkness that now encompasses the Prowler. The hunt has begun anew, and their only hope for escape lies in outsmarting and evading the remorseless predator that lurks within.
The Hunted:
John Carlson
Difficulty: Moderate
Item: Flashlight
Perks: Backstab, Quick and Easy and Tenacious Detective
Prestige 1: Backstab the Hunter once using the perk Backstab
Prestige 2: Successfully get out of Chase using the perk Quick and Easy
Prestige 3: Successfully evade chase using the perk Tenacious Detective
Full Prestige: Survive 10 rounds as John Carlson
Flashlight
The Flashlight allows you to see easily in dark areas where the generators aren't finished. (No the flashlight can't blind someone)
Perks:
Backstab:
A Cunning detective knows that striking when least expected can be the key to survival
After recovering 100/50/25% while downed you get a hard skillcheck when the hunter picks you up. Successfully hitting this skillcheck drops you from the hunter's hands
"The Hunter becomes the Hunted. Just when they think they've got me, I strike back with a vengeance." -John Carlson
Quick and Easy:
This perk activates after vaulting while injured. Your grunts of pain are silenced and your blood pools are softened. This perk stays activated for 3/6/12 seconds
"In this deadly dance, every second counts. I glide through obstacles unseen, my steps a whisper in the night." -John Carlson
Tenacious Detective:
The Detective's investigative instincts persist even in the fog, granting him unparalleled awareness of his surroundings.
This perk activates after emerging through the fog. All Hunter Objects are revealed to you for 2/4/8 seconds. This perk also activates every time a generator is completed. The Killer is revealed for 2/4/8 seconds whenever a generator is completed.
"I see through their tricks, their devices. Every step we take, I unravel their dark design." -John Carlson
Add-ons:
Old Battery:
Common Add-on for John Carlson
This worn-out battery holds sentimental value for John, as it harkens back to his early days as a detective.
Increases battery life by 1 second
Battery:
Uncommon Add-on for John Carlson
Increases battery life by 2 seconds
Reinforced Battery:
Rare Add-on for John Carlson
It was a crucial tool that sustained him through long nights and perilous encounters, granting him the strength to persevere against all odds.
Increases battery life by 3 seconds
"I can withstand the storm." -John Carlson
Cracked Lenses:
Very Rare Add-on for John Carlson
These cracked lenses were once an essential part of John's detective gear, aiding him in observing details and spotting hidden clues. However, during a fateful encounter with one of his most elusive suspects, the lenses shattered, a physical representation of the shattered trust and fractured reality that followed.
Increases distance of the flashlight by 4 meters
"Stop Him!"
Iridescent Grip:
Iridescent Add-on for John Carlson
Crafted by the fog itself, it serves as a mocking symbol, highlighting the futility of trying to maintain control or unravel the mysteries that lie within. It is a stark reminder that within this twisted domain, the fog reigns supreme, and no investigation can prevail against its relentless grasp.
Allows you to blind the killer when aiming at their eyes. Blinding takes 5 seconds. Blinding lasts for 5 seconds. Decreases battery life by 1 seconds
"It Fucking Mocks me! The Fog Fucking Mocks Us! There is no escaping! There is no nothing!" -John Carlson
Scratched Battery:
Golden Add-on for John Carlson
A battery that never seems to die out when you need it to be alive.
Grants infinite life. The Flashlight will die whenever the last generator is completed.
Lore:
In the shadows of the 1970s, when crime and corruption permeated the streets, John Carlson emerged as a seasoned detective with a reputation for his tenacity and resourcefulness. Born and raised in a city plagued by lawlessness, John had a front-row seat to the injustices that unfolded daily. Determined to restore order and bring criminals to justice, he dedicated himself to his work, earning the respect of both his colleagues and the community he served.
John possessed an uncanny ability to uncover the truth, seeing beyond the façade and deciphering the intricate web of lies spun by criminals. His sharp mind and keen instincts made him a formidable adversary to those who sought to evade justice. However, as John delved deeper into the dark underbelly of the city, he unwittingly stumbled upon a secret society that thrived in the shadows—a clandestine organization known as Fog Whisperers.
Fueled by greed and power, Fog Whisperers operated with impunity, pulling the strings behind the scenes, orchestrating crime waves and manipulating key figures within the city. They saw John as a threat, a disruptor who posed a risk to their carefully constructed empire. In a calculated move to eliminate him, they devised a sinister plan.
One fateful night, as John tirelessly pursued a high-profile case, he received an anonymous tip leading him to an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of the city. Unbeknownst to him, the tip was a carefully orchestrated trap. As he ventured deeper into the derelict building, he found himself ambushed by a group of masked assailants, agents of the Fog.
A vicious struggle ensued, but John was outnumbered and overwhelmed. Despite his valiant efforts, he was overpowered, beaten within an inch of his life. The assailants, believing they had dealt the detective a fatal blow, left him for dead, disappearing into the night.
However, fate had other plans for John. As his lifeblood seeped from his battered body, he was enveloped by an otherworldly mist, a manifestation of the very darkness he had fought against. In his darkest hour, the fog claimed him, granting him an unexpected second chance at life—but forever tethered to the fog and its twisted realm.
Now one with the fog, John emerged as a hunted survivor, trapped within the nightmarish trials orchestrated by the Fog. His skills as a detective proved invaluable in his quest for survival, enabling him to outsmart and evade the relentless hunters that pursued him. Yet, the line between self-preservation and selflessness became blurred for John. His desire to survive often clashed with his moral compass, as he would not hesitate to use his companions as distractions, ensuring his own escape.
While seen by some as a helpful survivor, John's reputation was marred by his self-serving tendencies. With every trial, he walked a precarious tightrope, balancing survival and the instinct to alert the hunter for his own benefit. His conflicted nature, a blend of resourcefulness and self-interest, painted him as a complex figure among the survivors, one whose actions could be both admired and criticized.
As John ventured deeper into the trials, he was haunted by the shadows of his past, the echoes of the crime-ridden city he had once fought to protect. In the fog's merciless embrace, he sought redemption, an opportunity to atone for the compromises he had made. The path ahead was treacherous, but John Carlson, the detective of old, remained determined to survive, to unravel the mysteries of the fog, and perhaps, find a way to free himself from its unforgiving grasp.
Amy Light
Difficulty: Easy
Item: Medkit
Perks: Shattered Mirror, Fine Fettle and The Doctor in The Room
Prestige 1: Avoid the Hunter's hit by any means using Shattered Mirror
Prestige 2: Get Injured and heal yourself using the perk Fine Fettle
Prestige 3: Heal 2 other Hunted in 1 round using The Doctor in the Room
Full Prestige: Heal 20 other Hunted as Amy Light
Medkit:
Gain the ability to heal yourself, and you can now heal any other hunted 25% faster. The Medkit has a total of 5 heals before you run out of heals. This counts self heals.
Perks:
Shattered Mirror:
Reveals the aura of the killer whenever they use their power for 1/2/4 seconds
"I turn their tactics against them." -Amy Light
Fine Fettle:
Increases the speed you are healed by 10/20/40%
"Years of medical training have bestowed upon me the gift of swift recovery." -Amy Light
The Doctor in the Room:
Increases the speed at which you can heal by 10/20/40%
"Within my presence, the wounded find respite. With deftness and care, I restore vigor to their weary bodies. As my hands move, auras reveal the path to healing, uniting us in our shared journey towards survival." -Amy Light
Add-ons:
Plum Bandages:
Common Add-on for Amy Light
Increases the speed at which you can heal by 10%.
Adrenaline Vial:
Uncommon Add-on for Amy Light
After breaking from a heal the survivor getting healed gets a 5% boost for 10 seconds
Band-Aids:
Rare Add-on for Amy Light
Increases boost from hitting skillchecks by 15%
Doctor Gloves:
Very Rare Add-on for Amy Light
Increases boost from hitting skillchecks by 30%
Iridescent Vial:
Iridescent Add-on for Amy Light
Gain the ability to instantly heal a survivor at any time. Cannot be used on yourself
Doctor's Notes
Golden Add-on for Amy Light
No longer experience skillchecks while healing. The Medkit heals 50% faster than normal. 2 less heals.
Lore: Amy Light, a beacon of compassion and healing, was born into a world still reeling from the aftermath of World War II. In the wake of the devastating conflict, she emerged as a symbol of hope, dedicating her life to the noble pursuit of medicine. Amy possessed an unwavering commitment to her patients, driven by a deep sense of empathy that compelled her to alleviate suffering and restore lives shattered by the horrors of war. As a doctor, Amy witnessed firsthand the physical and emotional scars etched upon the survivors and soldiers who sought solace in her care. Her days were filled with tireless efforts to mend broken bodies and fragile spirits, tending to wounds that ran deeper than mere flesh. Despite the ravages of war, she remained steadfast in her belief that even amidst the darkest of times, a glimmer of light could be found. However, fate had a twisted plan in store for Amy. One fateful night, while attending to a patient haunted by the memories of battle, an unnatural occurrence unfolded within the walls of the hospital. The fabric of reality ripped apart, and the darkness of the Fog began to seep into her world. Chaos ensued as the hospital transformed into a nightmarish reflection of its former self, with the Fog's influence warping the very essence of its occupants. Amidst the chaos, Amy found herself trapped within the fog, torn away from the life she once knew. Stripped of her medical tools and stripped of her purpose, she was forced to navigate a realm where survival became paramount. Despite the fear and confusion that surrounded her, Amy's altruistic nature remained unyielding, and she became a guiding light for her fellow survivors. Within the trials, Amy became known for her selflessness and unwavering support for her companions. She would risk her own safety to tend to the wounded, offering solace and healing amidst the relentless pursuit of the Hunters. Her presence served as a source of comfort, as survivors found solace in her compassionate spirit, drawing strength from her unwavering commitment to their well-being. However, even the brightest lights can cast shadows, and Amy carried her own burden of survivor's guilt. Haunted by the faces of those she couldn't save, she yearned for redemption, seeking solace within the trials. Every survivor she aided, every life she mended, served as a testament to her unyielding resolve and her determination to rise above the darkness that threatened to consume them all. Though trapped within the fog, Amy remained a beacon of hope, reminding her fellow survivors that compassion and kindness could endure even in the most desolate of landscapes. In the face of unimaginable horrors, she stood as a testament to the resilience of the human spirit, a reminder that even within the darkest corners, the light of altruism could prevail.
Kris Hackley:
Difficulty: Hard
Item: Hockey Stick
Perks: Ice Skates, True Fighter and Team Captain
Prestige 1: Successfully escape chase using the perk Ice Skates
Prestige 2: Successfully escape the Hunter's grasp using the perk True Fighter
Prestige 3: Complete 1 generator and heal 1 survivor using the perk Team Captain
Full Prestige: Stun the Hunter 30 times as Kris Hackley
Hockey Stick:
While within 2 meters of the Hunter you can hit the Hunter with you hockey stick for a 2 second stun
Perks:
Ice Skates:
After stunning the killer by any means gain the haste effect for 3 seconds. After this haste ends you gain the exhausted effect for 100/50/25 seconds. Haste doubles you speed. Exhausted makes you 5% slower and you cannot experience haste while it is active.
"With every daring move, I carve my path to freedom." -Kris Hackley
True Fighter:
Increases your wiggle speed by 5/10/20%. Increases your wiggle sway by 15/30/60%
"You may think you've caught me, but I refuse to be a captive in your twisted game " -Kris Hackley
Team Captain:
Kris's natural leadership qualities shine through, even in the face of overwhelming darkness.
Increases your action speed by 3/6/12% when not within 8 meters of any of the other hunted. Increases the action speed of any of the hunted within 8 meters of you by 3/6/12%.
"Together, we are stronger. With unity and coordination, we can overcome any obstacle that lies before us. Trust in each other, and we shall prevail." -Kris Hackley
Add-ons:
Goalie Gloves:
Common Add-on for Kris Hackley
Increases swing speed by 0.5%
Hockey Putt:
Uncommon Add-on for Kris Hackley
Increases swing speed by 1%
Back Breaker:
Rare Add-on for Kris Hackley
Increases swing speed by 2%. Stunning the Hunter inflicts blindness for 20 seconds
Empty handed:
Very Rare Add-on for Kris Hackley
Gain a haste effect for 2 seconds after stunning the Hunter. Cannot be used while exhausted.
Iridescent Hockey Wrap:
Iridescent Add-on for Kris Hackley
Increases swing speed by 10%
Professional Hockey Stick:
Golden Add-on for Kris Hackley
Allows you to hit the Hunter twice before the stick breaks
Lore:
Kris Hackley had always been the embodiment of determination and leadership. As the captain of her local hockey team, she commanded respect and pushed her teammates to their limits. Yet, beneath her strong exterior, Kris harbored a simmering discontent towards those she perceived as unworthy or unfamiliar. It was this disdain that brought her to the fateful trip to the mountain, seeking an escape from the confines of her team and the pressure of her responsibilities. The day started with a hockey game, where Kris once again led her team to victory. But instead of relishing in the triumph, she found herself growing increasingly irritated with her teammates' shortcomings and mistakes. Seeking solace from the persistent frustration, Kris agreed to join her friends—Emma, Ethan, Anthony, Kyler, Kara, and her siblings Jamison and Kayley—for a weekend getaway in the serene mountain retreat. However, tensions began to rise as Anthony introduced a newcomer to the group—Olivia. Kris immediately resented the intrusion, perceiving Olivia as an unwelcome disruption to their tightly-knit circle. Her feelings of superiority and territoriality cast a shadow over the trip, as Kris became increasingly distant and hostile towards Olivia. As the group ventured further into the secluded mountain, their bonds began to strain under the weight of Kris's disdain. Unbeknownst to them, the dark presence of the fog had already begun to weave its way into their lives. It sensed Kris's isolation and resentment, drawing her closer to its clutches. Tragedy struck when Kris, consumed by her own emotions, failed to extend a helping hand to those in need. As they engaged in risky activities, disaster struck one by one. Kris watched in horror as Emma, Ethan, and Anthony succumbed to their fates—severing the already fragile bonds of friendship. Jamison and Kayley, her own siblings, suffered the consequences of her indifference. Overwhelmed with guilt and remorse, Kris found herself separated from the remaining survivors—Olivia and Kyler. Alone in the unforgiving mountain terrain, the fog began to envelop her, offering a haunting embrace that echoed her internal turmoil. In that moment, Kris's fate intertwined with the fog, becoming one with its ethereal realm. Now, as a Hunted survivor, Kris roams the trials, forever trapped within the fog's grasp. Her once fierce determination transformed into a relentless struggle for survival, and her perceived superiority challenged by the enigmatic horrors that lurk in the shadows. The lessons learned from her past failures now guide her, as she navigates the trials with a newfound sense of humility and empathy. Though the memory of her selfishness lingers, Kris's journey through the fog offers her a chance at redemption. She seeks to overcome her former limitations and forge new bonds, recognizing that unity and selflessness are the keys to survival in this twisted fog.
Kyler Hal:
Difficulty: Moderate
Item: Glasses
Perks: Survivor!, Grand Refresh and Reap what you Sow
Prestige 1: Successfully survive one trial using the perk Survivor!
Prestige 2: Successfully take 2 hits for an injured survivor using the perk Grand Refresh
Prestige 3: Successfully stun the Hunter twice while using the perk Reap what You Sow
Full Prestige: Successfully escape 10 times as Kyler Hal
Glasses:
Glasses can be equipped or unequipped at any time. While equipped all of the fog is removed, however if you are hit while they are on you break the glasses.
Perks:
Survivor!:
This perk can be activated at any time while injured. You become broken for 80/40/20 seconds. During this time you suffer from blindness and oblivious. You also make no grunts of pain. Once this time is up you become healthy once more. This perk applies exhausted for 60/30/15 seconds. Exhausted makes you 5% slower and you cannot experience haste while it is active, Blindness makes any aura not appear, Oblivious makes it so the heartbeat constantly seems further than it is, Broken makes it so the survivor cannot be healed.
"Surviving isn't just about avoiding death. It's about embracing the risks and emerging stronger." -Kyler Hal
Grand Refresh:
Gain a stack for every protection hit you take for a survivor. Every stack decreases your grunts of pain volume by 10%. Gain a maximum of 6 stacks.
"In the face of danger, I'll stand as your shield."
Reap What You Sow:
Gain a stack for every time you stun the Hunter with a pallet or door. Each stack can be used whenever you hit a skillcheck on a generator. That generator will gain 5% of its current progress added onto the generator. That generator gets revealed to the Hunter. All stacks are lost upon being downed
"Every action has consequences. Let's make sure they favor us." -Kyler Hal
Add-ons:
Metal Lining:
Common Add-on for Kyler Hal
Increases the speed you put on your glasses by 1 second
"Every second counts when darkness looms. I won't let it cloud my vision." -Kyler Hal
New Lenses:
Uncommon Add-on for Kyler Hal
These lenses have advanced optics that brighten his surroundings, allowing him to see with greater clarity even in the darkest of environments
While the glasses are active everything becomes 25% lighter
"With a clearer view, I can navigate the shadows with confidence." -Kyler Hal
Bloody Glasses:
Rare Add-on for Kyler Hal
Being hit while the glasses aren't active breaks them. Being hit while they are active does not break them
Blue Glasses:
Very Rare Add-on for Kyler Hal
Reveals the killer in blue while looking in their direction
Iridescent Lenses:
Iridescent Add-on for Kyler Hal
These unique lenses, infused with the essence of the fog, grant Kyler an extraordinary vision that transcends the boundaries of the physical world.
Removes the fog and darkness while active. Your vision becomes red while active.
"Through these lenses, I see a twisted reflection of my fate."
Golden Glasses:
Golden Add-on for Kyler Hal
Increases the fog for the killer while in chase with you AND the glasses are active
Lore:
Kyler Hal was a free-spirited adventurer, always seeking thrill and excitement in life. In the vibrant era of the 1970s, he yearned for experiences that would test the limits of his courage and fill his life with unforgettable memories. It was during this time that he found himself drawn to a mountain resort nestled in the picturesque Colorado landscape—an idyllic setting for the adventures he sought. Accompanied by his friends—Emma, Ethan, Olivia, Kris, Kayley, Jamison, Kara, and Anthony—they embarked on a journey filled with laughter and camaraderie. The mountain resort promised an escape from the constraints of the mundane world, offering a playground for their youthful spirits. Little did they know that their escapade would lead them to the unforgiving clutches of the fog. As they explored the resort's scenic trails and indulged in adrenaline-fueled activities, Kyler reveled in the freedom of the mountains. The majestic peaks seemed to call to him, urging him to push his boundaries even further. However, their joyous excursion took a dark turn when an ominous presence loomed over their group, watching their every move. Tragedy struck swiftly, as Emma, Ethan, Kris, Jamison, and Kara fell victim to the unknown malevolence that pervaded the mountain. Their lives were cut short, leaving Kyler, Olivia, and Anthony as the sole survivors of the harrowing ordeal. The weight of loss and survival weighed heavily upon Kyler's shoulders, his carefree spirit burdened by guilt and grief. It was on their journey back to civilization that the fog made its insidious move. Trapped in a dense mist that seemed to devour the world around them, Kyler found himself separated from his companions. Panic and confusion washed over him as he desperately searched for an escape, but the fog had claimed him, pulling him deeper into its eerie realm. Now condemned to wander the trials as one of the Hunted, Kyler fights to preserve the memories of his lost friends and find solace in their spirits. The fog taunts him, a constant reminder of the past he cannot change and the choices that led him to this haunting existence. His once carefree nature has morphed into a resilient determination, fueled by the desire to honor the memories of his fallen comrades and seek a way back to the world he once knew. In the trials of the Fog, Kyler's courage is put to the test, his survival dependent on his ability to adapt, cooperate, and outmaneuver the relentless Hunter. Through the fog's relentless challenges, Kyler seeks redemption, not just for himself but for the friends he lost on that fateful mountain journey. As he navigates the trials, he discovers that true strength lies not only in physical prowess but also in the bonds forged with his fellow survivors, united in their shared struggle against the encroaching darkness.
Anthony Kael:
Difficulty: Easy
Item: Toolbox
Perks: First Serve, Hate The Sinner and Panic Headed
Prestige 1: Finish 1 generator using the Perk First Serve
Prestige 2: Finish 1 Generator using the Perk Hate The Sinner
Prestige 3: Finish 1 Generator while injured using the Perk Panic Headed
Full Prestige: Finish 30 Generators as Anthony Kael
Toolbox:
Can be used while working on a generator. While using it it you complete generators 25% faster, however getting off of generators is much slower.
Perks:
First Serve:
What some may see as old scrap you see as good machinery
This perk activates after touching a generator with no progress. Gain a 25% boost on that generator until one of the following happens: You leave the generator, you are hit or you fail a skillcheck. This perk has a 60/30/15 second cooldown
"When the sparks fly, and the machines come alive, it's my chance to make a difference." -Anthony Kael
Hate The Sinner:
This perk activates for 15/30/60 seconds after being injured. Gain a 15% boost on fixing generators during this time. This boost is increased to 30% if you are deep wounded
"There's a fire inside me, a relentless drive to fix what's broken and reclaim our chance at survival." -Anthony Kael
Panic Headed:
Unlike most, you don't scream from Injuries. You take the pain and laugh in the face of death
Gain a 3/6/12% boost to all actions while injured
"When the world spins in chaos, my mind clears. Panic fuels my every move, heightening my senses and sharpening my focus" -Anthony Kael
Add-ons:
Spanner Wrench:
Common Add-on for Anthony Kael
Increases speed by 2%
Measuring tape:
Uncommon Add-on for Anthony Kael
Increases speed at which you put the toolbox away by 15%
Metal Mallet:
Rare Add-on for Anthony Kael
Increases boost from skillchecks by 5%
Screwdriver:
Very Rare Add-on for Anthony Kael
Increases boost from skillchecks by 10%
Iridescent Screwdriver:
Iridescent Add-on for Anthony Kael
Increases boost from skillchecks by 20%. Toolbox now deactivates whenever the first generator is completed
Golden Wrench:
Golden Add-on for Anthony Kael
Gain the ability to sabotage Traps. Decreases boost from skillchecks by 2%
Lore:
Born with an innate talent for tinkering and fixing things, Anthony spent his days as a dedicated technician, ensuring that machinery and devices functioned flawlessly. However, his life took an unexpected turn when he embarked on a fateful trip to a serene mountain resort with his friends, unaware of the horrors that awaited them. As Anthony and his group of friends arrived at the picturesque resort, tensions ran high. Despite the warnings, Anthony insisted on bringing Olivia, a newcomer who was not well-received by the others. Little did they know that their collective actions would lead them down a path of darkness and despair. Tragedy befell the group one by one, as the mountain became a hunting ground for an insidious force. Ethan, struck by an arrow, met a grisly fate with a snapped neck. Emma, entangled in the gnarled bark, was mercilessly slammed into the snow until life left her body. Kris, the team captain, met a fatal end when she plummeted from the treacherous mountainside, her neck snapping upon impact. Kayley, left to bleed out on a meathook, succumbed to her injuries. Jamison's ill-fated encounter with a bear trap sealed his fate, leaving him lifeless. Kara, too, fell victim to a cruel trap, bleeding out as her final moments slipped away. Amidst the bloodshed and loss, Anthony, Kyler, and Olivia found themselves as the sole survivors. They navigated the treacherous terrain, their bond forged in the crucible of survival. However, their resilience would be tested further as they encountered the enigmatic force that lurked within the fog. As Anthony faced the horrors unfolding around him, his resourcefulness and technical prowess became his greatest assets. Cirrus, drawn to his unwavering determination and problem-solving skills, claimed Anthony as its own, entwining his fate with the merciless trials that awaited him in the fog. Haunted by the memories of his fallen friends, Anthony now roams the fog, driven by a relentless need to uncover the mysteries of his tragic past and outwit the forces that seek to consume him. With his technical expertise and a determination that knows no bounds, he fights for survival, ready to uncover the truth behind the malevolent presence that binds them all.
Kara Scaler:
Difficulty: Easy
Item: Boots
Perks: Back Track, The Queen and Sixth Sense
Prestige 1: Successfully escape from Chase using the perk Back Track
Prestige 2: Successfully escape with at least 1 other Hunted using the perk The Queen
Prestige 3: Successfully hide from the Hunter using the perk Sixth Sense
Full Prestige: Escape 10 chases as Kara Scaler
Boots:
You run 1% faster than all other survivors. Your footsteps are silent.
Perks:
Back Track:
After vaulting through a window your grunts of pain and pools of blood are removed for 2/4/8 seconds. Once this time ends your pools of blood backtrack the the vault location.
"In this tangled game of survival, every moment counts. I leave no traces behind, vanishing into the shadows. They'll never know where I truly tread." -Kara Scaler
The Queen:
Reveals your aura to all survivors. While injured all survivors gain a 5/10/20% boost to healing. All of the Hunted who escape gain a 100% boost in experience
"The Queen commands, and her will is absolute. Together, we rise above the pain and despair." -Kara Scaler
Sixth Sense:
Reveals the aura of the Hunter for 3/6/12 seconds when you hear their heartbeat. While within the heartbeat of the hunter gain a 3/6/12% boost to all actions
Add-ons:
Soft Tissue:
Increases movement speed by 0.5%
Steel Toe Boots:
Increases movement speed by 5%. Removes the silent footstep effect
Leather Boots:
Increases vaulting speed by 5%. Removes the silent footstep effect
Winter Boots:
Removes the silent footstep effect. Increases speed after being hit by 10%
Iridescent Tissue:
Increases movement speed by 3%. This stacks while Deep wounded.
Fur Boots:
Removes the silent footstep effect. Increases movement speed by 2%. Increases vaulting speed by 3%. Increases wiggle sway by 20%
Lore:
A striking figure with an air of independence and a disquieting aura, Kara possessed a longing for control and an unspoken desire for affection that ultimately drove her down a treacherous road. Intrigued by the allure of the Hackley mountain resort, Kara insisted on gathering a group of friends for an adventure. Among them were the determined Kris, the gentle Kayley, the steadfast Kyler, the empathetic Anthony, and the spirited duo of Ethan and Emma. Despite her reservations, Anthony chose to invite his friend Olivia, much to Kara's discontent. Her desire to maintain a close-knit circle was fueled by an underlying fear of losing control. Within the group, Kara clashed with Kris, a natural leader whose presence threatened Kara's own desire for dominance. She held an unspoken disdain for Kayley, who had a deep connection with Jamison, Kara's secret love interest. The weight of unrequited affection burdened her heart, and only Anthony, her confidant, shared her pain and understood her longing. As they ventured into the heart of the mountain resort, the group encountered unspeakable horrors. Emma's tragic demise shattered Kara's world, traumatizing her to the core. The harrowing scene would forever haunt her memories, igniting a primal fear and unraveling the fragile threads of her composure. In the midst of chaos, Kara's selfishness and desperation propelled her into the forest, seeking refuge from the horrors that unfolded. But fate had other plans in store. Trapped by a vicious bear trap, Kara cried out for help, her screams echoing through the night. Hours passed, each moment a torment as she wrestled with pain, fear, and regret. As the agonizing hours slipped away, Kara's desperate pleas were answered by an unexpected force. The fog, sensing her turmoil and her broken spirit, reached out to claim her as its own. It enveloped her in its ethereal embrace, forever sealing her fate within its enigmatic realm. Lost to her friends and the world she once knew, Kara became a reflection of her own inner turmoil—a haunting reminder of the consequences of selfishness and the yearning for control. In the fog's clutches, she is condemned to wander, her soul forever tormented by the choices and regrets that shaped her tragic journey.
Maps:
Harvest Haven:
Type: Abandoned Farmlands
Harvest Haven is an eerie and desolate farmland, haunted by the memories of a tragic event. Once a thriving agricultural community, it now stands abandoned and forgotten, overrun by overgrown crops and ominous scarecrows. Dilapidated barns, broken fences, and rusted farming equipment serve as reminders of a life that was abruptly shattered.
Main Building: Farmhouse. The Main building has 1 generator inside it, and when the generator is completed the lights inside are turned on. (Safety: Safe)
Size: Moderate
Resort Ruins:
Type: Mountain Resort
The Resort Ruins capture the remnants of what was once a luxurious mountain getaway. Now reduced to a desolate and overgrown wasteland, the ruins bear witness to the horrors that unfolded within their walls. Collapsed structures, cracked swimming pools, and twisted amusement park rides serve as eerie reminders of the resort's tragic past.
Main Building: Ski Lodge. The Main building has 1 generator inside the basement. Upon this generator being completed the lights inside and outside are turned on. (Safety: Balanced)
Side Building: Ski Lift. The Side building has 1 generator. Upon this generator being completed the lights inside are turned on. (Safety: Unsafe)
Size: Moderate
The Prowler's Shack:
Type: Mountain Resort
The Prowler's Shack is a secluded and ominous structure tucked away deep within the fog. It serves as the dwelling place of The Prowler, a twisted refuge where he orchestrates his malevolent pursuits. The shack is surrounded by dense forest, and the air is filled with an unsettling stillness, as if nature itself holds its breath in fear.
Main Building: Prowler's Shack. The main building has no generator inside it. (Safety: Balanced)
Size: Small
Derelict Manor:
Type: Mountain Resort
Derelict Manor is an abandoned and decaying building that once stood as a grand mansion. Time has taken its toll on the once opulent structure, leaving behind a maze of crumbling hallways, broken furniture, and faded portraits. The atmosphere is heavy with a sense of abandonment and despair, perfectly reflecting the darkness that haunts The Prowler's past.
Main Building: The Manor. The Main building has 3 generators inside it. Once all generators inside it are fixed all lights inside it turn on. (Safety: Very Safe)
Size: Large
Fog Offerings:
Forgotten Ritual: Common Offering. Increases the chance of going to Abandoned Farmlands by 25%.
Faded Postcard: Common Offering. Increases the chance of going to Mountain resort by 25%
Vengeful Spirit: Common Offering. Increases the chance of becoming the Hunter by 25%
Desperate Prayer: Common Offering. Increases the chance of becoming the Hunted by 25%
Bloodstained Ledger: Common Offering. Increases the amount of experience you get by 25%
Cursed Cornfield: Uncommon Offering. Increases the chance of going to Abandoned Farmlands by 50%
Ripped Blueprints: Uncommon Offering. Increases the chance of going to Mountain resort by 50%
Dark Embrace: Uncommon Offering. Increases the chance of becoming the Hunter by 50%
Beacon of Hope: Uncommon Offering. Increases the chance of becoming the Hunted by 50%
Knowledge Tome: Uncommon Offering. Increases the amount of experience you get by 50%
Harvest's Call: Rare Offering. Increases the chance of going to Abandoned Farmlands by 75%
Ruined Brochure: Rare Offering. Increases the chance of going to Mountain Resort by 75%
Blood Oath: Rare Offering. Increases the chance of becoming the Hunter by 75%
Survivor's Pledge: Rare Offering. Increases the chance of becoming the Hunted by 75%
Duo Dice: Rare Offering. Increases the amount of experience you get by 75%
Hunter's Mark: Very Rare Offering. Increases the chance of becoming the Hunter by 100%. If two are placed both Offerings are discarded
Survival Talisman: Very Rare Offering. Increases the chance of becoming the Hunted by 100%. If five are placed all offerings are discarded
Essence Amplifier: Very Rare Offering. Increases the amount of experience gained by 100%
2023.06.09 22:04 LeutnantzurSeeFritz The Ventures of Fritz Decke Part 9: Prisoner of the Royal Navy
(You can also find this work here, along with the previous parts here.)
Fritz was in a room, his eyes closed. His sunburn skin had healed, and he had a new Ironblood officer’s uniform on him.
However, he was comatose.
A combination of sodium poisoning, sun exposure, dehydration, and starvation all worked together to place him in a coma. A pink-sliver-haired woman was hard at work looking over him.
“Vestal! You’re needed at the meeting!”
Vestal stopped tending to Fritz. She looked at him and sighed as she wrote on a piece of paper.
“Subject is stable. However, it is unknown if the subject will ever regain consciousness.”
Vestal nodded and made her way to the meeting. She saw Prince of Wales, Queen Elizabeth, and Warspite. Prince of Wales smiled.
“I suppose we shall start this meeting.”
The other shipgirls nodded. Queen Elizabeth and Prince of Wales looked at the papers they had in front of them. Warspite smiled.
“First, how are our guests?”
Prince of Wales sighed.
“The pilot has so far been a bust. We are thinking of sending him to a regular Prisoner of War camp. The submariner has so far been in a coma. We believe he has a substantial amount of information about the internal workings of the Ironblood.”
Queen Elizabeth nodded.
“You said King George V found two folders on the two men when she found them on the raft?”
Prince of Wales nodded.
“Indeed. My sister found two folders. One on each man. We now have confirmation of the Ironblood and the Sakura Empire conducting joint operations in both the Indian and Pacific Oceans.”
“Are they a threat to us?”
Prince of Wales shook her head.
“No. The Monsun Gruppe, as they are called, have been suffering heavy casualties from the sirens.”
Queen Elizabeth smiled.
"How are you holding up, Wales?"
Prince of Wales smiled as she rubbed her belly. Her pregnancy was showing under her shirt.
"I've been doing well. Vestal told me I am currently five months pregnant, and Caleb and I's child will be a boy."
Queen Elizabeth closed her eyes as she smiled and giggled.
"That is good to hear. I made sure to place you here as soon as you found out you were expecting.
Prince of Wales sighed.
"It's certainly safer than combat duty, but it does get boring around here.
Queen Elizabeth nodded.
"Understood. I'll be sure to find this place more entertainment."
Queen Elizabeth looked at Vestal with a serious look on her face.
“How about the submariner, Vestal? Any updates on him?”
Vestal sighed. “Your majesty, you can call him by his name. He is not a cursed idol.”
Queen Elizabeth rolled her eyes.
“Alright. How is Fritz doing?”
Vestal closed her eyes.
“He is stable, but he is still not yet out of the coma. I do not know when he will wake.”
“You all remember the cover story, correct?”
Warspite nodded.
“Yes. This place is the manor of a wealthy industrialist. Fritz ended up here as the Ironblood pulled some strings and placed him here rather than in a Prisoner of War Camp.”
Prince of Wales nodded.
“That is an excellent cover, but I doubt he will believe it for long.”
Queen Elizabeth closed her eyes and nodded.
“What should we do if the cover story fails?”
Prince of Wales chuckled.
“Then we reveal the ace in the hole and tell him the truth, along with our plans for him.”
Queen Elizabeth nodded. She turned her head to the man in the room.
“Petty Officer Stevenson, your thoughts?”
The Petty Officer looked at the table and sighed.
"Your majesty. You can just call me Petty Officer."
Queen Elizabeth nodded.
"Very well. What are your thoughts on this, Petty Officer?"
The Petty Officer sighed as he closed his eyes. “This feels wrong.”
King George V and Ark Royal joined the meeting. Ark Royal waved at Prince of Wales and Queen Elizabeth and smiled at them.
“Sorry if we're late.”
Queen Elizabeth nodded. “You are not. I’ll catch you guys up to speed.”
After updating King George V and Ark Royal, they continued the meeting.
“I know what we are asking of Fritz is a long shot, but it is the only shot we have.”
The Petty Officer nodded. “Well, that just about finishes this meeting. I’ll be in the garden with Belfast.”
Queen Elizabeth nodded, and the group left. Vestal walked to the room Fritz was staying in. He was out cold. She smiled slightly.
“Come on, Let’s get you some sun. It will be good for you.”
She lifted him and placed him in a wheelchair. She pushed him to the garden.
The warm sun hit Fritz’s skin. He was still in his Ironblood U-boat captain's uniform. The trimmed brown hair under his white U-boat captain’s hat shined slightly. She pushed him around, with hedges providing a bit of shade. Belfast was there with the Petty Officer.
Vestal pushed Fritz up to the table. Belfast smiled at her.
“Good afternoon Vestal. I see you brought Fritz with you.”
She served the Petty Officer some tea. The hot brown liquid filled the white teacup.
Vestal sat down in a chair next to Fritz. Belfast smiled at her.
“Would you like some tea, Dr. Vestal?”
Vestal smiled. “Sure.”
Belfast nodded as she served Vestal some tea. She poured it into a teacup for her.
“Thank you, Belfast.”
Belfast nodded as Vestal drank her tea. When she saw what she saw next, she nearly spat out her tea.
It was Fritz. His eyes were wide open. Vestal gulped her tea and sprang into action.
“Mr. Decke, can you hear me? Blink one for yes, twice for no.”
Fritz blinked once. Vestal smiled.
“Good. At least you still have your sense of hearing. I take it you are awake?”
Fritz tried to speak, but all he could do was open his mouth. Vestal sighed.
“Take it easy. You are safe. Your vocal cords still need time to recover from your coma.”
Fritz sighed. He couldn’t move his arms. He was having trouble even moving his head.
“You want to go back inside?”
Fritz blinked once and tried to nod.
Vestal nodded and pushed Fritz back into his room. She smiled as she placed him on his bed.
“Don’t worry, I’ll be right back.”
Fritz watched as she ran down the hall. Vestal made her way to Prince of Wales’s office. She was busy going through paperwork. Vestal greeted her with a smile.
“Wales, it’s Fritz. He’s awake.”
Prince of Wales smiled. “Good. Is he responding to questions?”
Vestal nodded. “Yes. So far, his vocal cords are not active. However, he is responding to both questions and stimuli. He can respond to yes or no questions by blinking.”
Prince of Wales nodded. “Excellent! Once he regains the ability to speak, we can start our plan for him.”
A week later, Fritz was in his hospital bed. Vestal was looking over him, moving his arms and legs. Fritz grimaced as Vestal sighed.
“I know it hurts, but the more I do this, the sooner you’ll be able to walk.”
Vestal stopped moving his arms and legs and grabbed a pen. She wrote on a piece of paper.
“Fritz has already regained the power to move his arms and upper body, but his legs and lower body are still inactive.”
Vestal was about to leave when she heard a weak voice talk to her.
“Hey. Can you help me shave?”
Vestal turned around.
“Fritz, was that you?”
Fritz nodded. Vestal smiled.
“Of course!”
Vestal left the room, and Fritz sat up in his bed. He lifted his legs, one after the other, and propped himself up using the bed.
“Only one way to get moving.” He thought to himself.
He fell to the floor with a thud. He sighed.
“Of course. I still can’t walk.” he thought to himself.
Fritz rolled over on his back with some effort and looked around. He saw a wheelchair and dragged himself toward it. He dragged himself into the wheelchair.
Vestal came back with a bowl of hot water, a razor, and some shaving cream. She gasped.
“How are you in the wheelchair already?”
Fritz smirked. “I dragged myself to it.”
Vestal smiled at Fritz. “You ready to get started?”
Fritz nodded.
Vestal shaved Fritz’s beard. He smiled.
“Thank you. I was getting sick and tired of the beard around my face.”
Vestal nodded. “Mr. Decke, you want to go outside?”
Fritz nodded. “I can move the wheelchair by myself.”
The two made it to the garden. Belfast was there, along with Prince of Wales and the Petty Officer.
Fritz looked at the uniforms, and his eyes went wide. Prince of Wales’s eyes went wide as Fritz stared at her.
“Belfast, Vestal, Petty Officer, May you all please leave? Mr. Decke and I have something to discuss.”
The three nodded and left, leaving only Fritz and Prince of Wales.
“I suppose you have caught on to the fact that you are a prisoner of war of the Royal Navy?”
Fritz nodded.
“I had a feeling I was. I can tell by the accents and the uniforms.”
Fritz cleared his throat.
“Where is Werner? He was the man I was with.”
Prince of Wales smiled.
“Don’t worry. He is alright. He is currently in a Prisoner of War camp in Royal Navy territory.”
Fritz breathed a sigh of relief.
“How did you guys find me?”
“We found both you and Werner floating on a wooden pallet. Both of you were near death when my sister and Javelin found you.”
Prince of Wales’s smile faded as she sat in a chair.
“I have a proposition for you, Mr. Decke. I want you to help the Royal Navy.”
Fritz scoffed. “Forget it. I am not betraying the Ironblood.”
Prince of Wales got up and got behind Fritz. She pushed the wheelchair inside the manor.
“I figured you would say that. That’s why we got some leverage.”
Fritz raised an eyebrow.
“Where are you taking me?”
“To the medical wing. You’ll see why soon.”
Prince of Wales opened a door and pushed Fritz through. What he saw shook him to his core.
It was Tirpitz. She was asleep in a hospital bed. Her middle was larger and rounder.
“Why is Tirpitz doing here? What are you doing to her?”
Prince of Wales smirked. “Relax Fritz. You don’t want to wake up your wife now, do you?”
Fritz sighed. Prince of Wales closed her eyes.
“Now, do you want to hear an explanation for everything?”
Fritz sighed. “Alright. Lay it on me.”
Prince of Wales nodded.
“We found Tirpitz in the North Sea. From what our spies gathered, she violated direct orders from Bismarck to not engage in combat duties to fight the sirens. We found her unconscious, and we brought her here.”
“Is she alright? Is the baby alright?”
Prince of Wales placed her hand on Fritz’s shoulder.
“Yes. Tirpitz and the baby are alright. She is due for an appointment with Vestal today, which is why I bought you here. She is currently six months pregnant.”
Fritz’s eyes went wide.
“I have been out for two months?”
Prince of Wales nodded. “Yes. It is August. You were out for two months. We found Tirpitz two months ago, and we have been moving her from place to place to make it hard for the Ironblood to take her back.”
Fritz and Prince of Wales froze as Tirpitz moaned as she rubbed her belly. Prince of Wales looked at Fritz.
“Mr. Decke, I want you to go back to the Ironblood with Tirpitz and try to convince Bismarck to sign a peace treaty with Azur Lane, to join us in the war against the sirens.”
Fritz sighed. “That sounds like a risky proposition.”
Prince of Wales left the room, and Vestal came in with an ultrasound machine. Tirpitz opened her eyes to see her husband. Her eyes went wide.
“Fritz?”
Fritz smiled and held her hand.
“Yes. It's me.”
Tirpitz felt tears go down her face as she embraced her husband. Fritz smiled.
“Relax. Vestal is here to check on the baby.”
Tirpitz nodded as Vestal turned on the ultrasound.
“I’m warning you now, Mrs. Decke, the gel is cold.”
Tirpitz chuckled.
“Don’t worry. I’m used to the cold.”
Vestal applied the gel. Tirpitz shivered as Vestal applied the gel.
Vestal moved the wand of the ultrasound on Tirpitz’s belly.
“Alright Mrs. Decke, we are going to find out if you are having a boy or a girl. I just have to get a good view of the baby.”
Vestal moved the wand as she sighed. “So far nothing.”
The screen of the ultrasound machine suddenly had a good view of the baby’s bottom.
Vestal and Tirpitz’s eyes went wide as they blushed. Fritz laughed. They could see a small thing dangling under the baby’s bottom. Vestal’s eyes went wide as she giggled.
“Well, it appears you are having a son, Mr. and Mrs. Decke.”
Fritz chuckled.
“That’s my boy. Mein kleiner Moritz.”
Fritz continued to laugh. Tirpitz smiled.
“I can’t wait to meet you, Moritz.”
Vestal continued the ultrasound. She smiled after she was done.
“Well, Mr. and Mrs. Decke, Congratulations. You have a healthy baby boy that is due in early January.”
Fritz and Tirpitz smiled as they looked at each other. Vestal pressed a button and printed out some photos for Fritz and Tirpitz to have.
Vestal cleaned up Tirpitz’s belly and left the small room. Prince of Wales reentered the room.
“I heard the good news from Vestal. Congratulations Tirpitz.”
Tirpitz smiled. “Where would I be staying?”
Prince of Wales smiled. “You will stay in Fritz’s room. It’s only natural for a husband and wife to sleep together.”
Tirpitz nodded as she got out of bed. She and her husband made their way to their room.
Tirpitz helped Fritz to bed as he lay down next to her. Fritz placed a hand on Tirpitz’s belly, feeling Moritz kick against his palm.
“It’s hard to believe that in a few months, we are going to be parents.”
Tirpitz smiled.
“Fritz. I have to tell you something important.”
Fritz nodded. “Go ahead.”
“When I received news that you were killed in action, I could not believe it. I was a wreck. Despite my sister’s warnings, I went on a combat mission. came across a couple of sirens, and they were having a meeting.”
Tirpitz froze as she sighed.
“I saw Friedrich Der Große with them. Before I could investigate further, they spotted me and knocked me out. Duke of York and Hood found me. They brought me here a week ago.”
Fritz’s eyes went wide.
“Friedrich Der Große? What would she be doing with the sirens?”
Tirpitz sighed. “I don’t know. The only thing I care about now is making sure you and Moritz are safe.”
Fritz took his hand off Tirpitz’s belly.
“The Royal Navy wants me to go back to the Ironblood with you to talk to Bismarck. The Royal Navy wants to see if she will sign a peace treaty to join Azur Lane.”
Tirpitz nodded. “I figured. I’m guessing you refused, as you did not want to betray the Ironblood?”
Fritz nodded.
“Fritz. I want you to help the Royal Navy.”
Fritz’s eyes went wide.
“Why?! Isn’t that treason against the Ironblood?!”
Tirpitz sighed.
“I want the Ironblood to join Azur Lane. I want my sister to be safe. Most of all, I want a world safe for Moritz to grow up in.”
Fritz sighed as he sat on the bed. “You’re right. I don’t want Moritz to be born in a world where he has to live in fear of the sirens.”
Tirpitz nodded as she sighed. She sat next to him and rubbed her belly.
“My sister Bismarck has not been herself in a few months. From the letters she's been sending me, she’s been acting strange. She’s been vomiting after eating very little, she’s been suffering mood swings, and it has been worrying me.”
Fritz placed a hand on Tirpitz’s shoulder.
“Don’t worry. I’m sure your sister is fine. We should get some sleep.”
Tirpitz yawned and nodded. Soon, the couple was asleep.
Elsewhere in the manor, two women were wearing headphones and smiling.
“Did you get that Yorkie?”
“Loud and clear Sheffie.”
Sheffield smiled. “You were right about one thing.”
Duke of York raised an eyebrow. “What?”
Sheffield smirked. “Bugging the rooms was a great idea.”
Duke of York smirked. “I don’t think they suspect their rooms being bugged.”
Sheffield nodded as she smirked back. “Let’s make sure we keep it this way.”
Duke of York took off her headphones and opened the door.
“I’ll be telling Prince of Wales and Queen Elizabeth the information we received. Please let me know if you hear anything else.”
Sheffield nodded and continued to work.
submitted by LeutnantzurSeeFritz to AzureLane [link] [comments]
Fritz was in a room, his eyes closed. His sunburn skin had healed, and he had a new Ironblood officer’s uniform on him.
However, he was comatose.
A combination of sodium poisoning, sun exposure, dehydration, and starvation all worked together to place him in a coma. A pink-sliver-haired woman was hard at work looking over him.
“Vestal! You’re needed at the meeting!”
Vestal stopped tending to Fritz. She looked at him and sighed as she wrote on a piece of paper.
“Subject is stable. However, it is unknown if the subject will ever regain consciousness.”
Vestal nodded and made her way to the meeting. She saw Prince of Wales, Queen Elizabeth, and Warspite. Prince of Wales smiled.
“I suppose we shall start this meeting.”
The other shipgirls nodded. Queen Elizabeth and Prince of Wales looked at the papers they had in front of them. Warspite smiled.
“First, how are our guests?”
Prince of Wales sighed.
“The pilot has so far been a bust. We are thinking of sending him to a regular Prisoner of War camp. The submariner has so far been in a coma. We believe he has a substantial amount of information about the internal workings of the Ironblood.”
Queen Elizabeth nodded.
“You said King George V found two folders on the two men when she found them on the raft?”
Prince of Wales nodded.
“Indeed. My sister found two folders. One on each man. We now have confirmation of the Ironblood and the Sakura Empire conducting joint operations in both the Indian and Pacific Oceans.”
“Are they a threat to us?”
Prince of Wales shook her head.
“No. The Monsun Gruppe, as they are called, have been suffering heavy casualties from the sirens.”
Queen Elizabeth smiled.
"How are you holding up, Wales?"
Prince of Wales smiled as she rubbed her belly. Her pregnancy was showing under her shirt.
"I've been doing well. Vestal told me I am currently five months pregnant, and Caleb and I's child will be a boy."
Queen Elizabeth closed her eyes as she smiled and giggled.
"That is good to hear. I made sure to place you here as soon as you found out you were expecting.
Prince of Wales sighed.
"It's certainly safer than combat duty, but it does get boring around here.
Queen Elizabeth nodded.
"Understood. I'll be sure to find this place more entertainment."
Queen Elizabeth looked at Vestal with a serious look on her face.
“How about the submariner, Vestal? Any updates on him?”
Vestal sighed. “Your majesty, you can call him by his name. He is not a cursed idol.”
Queen Elizabeth rolled her eyes.
“Alright. How is Fritz doing?”
Vestal closed her eyes.
“He is stable, but he is still not yet out of the coma. I do not know when he will wake.”
“You all remember the cover story, correct?”
Warspite nodded.
“Yes. This place is the manor of a wealthy industrialist. Fritz ended up here as the Ironblood pulled some strings and placed him here rather than in a Prisoner of War Camp.”
Prince of Wales nodded.
“That is an excellent cover, but I doubt he will believe it for long.”
Queen Elizabeth closed her eyes and nodded.
“What should we do if the cover story fails?”
Prince of Wales chuckled.
“Then we reveal the ace in the hole and tell him the truth, along with our plans for him.”
Queen Elizabeth nodded. She turned her head to the man in the room.
“Petty Officer Stevenson, your thoughts?”
The Petty Officer looked at the table and sighed.
"Your majesty. You can just call me Petty Officer."
Queen Elizabeth nodded.
"Very well. What are your thoughts on this, Petty Officer?"
The Petty Officer sighed as he closed his eyes. “This feels wrong.”
King George V and Ark Royal joined the meeting. Ark Royal waved at Prince of Wales and Queen Elizabeth and smiled at them.
“Sorry if we're late.”
Queen Elizabeth nodded. “You are not. I’ll catch you guys up to speed.”
After updating King George V and Ark Royal, they continued the meeting.
“I know what we are asking of Fritz is a long shot, but it is the only shot we have.”
The Petty Officer nodded. “Well, that just about finishes this meeting. I’ll be in the garden with Belfast.”
Queen Elizabeth nodded, and the group left. Vestal walked to the room Fritz was staying in. He was out cold. She smiled slightly.
“Come on, Let’s get you some sun. It will be good for you.”
She lifted him and placed him in a wheelchair. She pushed him to the garden.
The warm sun hit Fritz’s skin. He was still in his Ironblood U-boat captain's uniform. The trimmed brown hair under his white U-boat captain’s hat shined slightly. She pushed him around, with hedges providing a bit of shade. Belfast was there with the Petty Officer.
Vestal pushed Fritz up to the table. Belfast smiled at her.
“Good afternoon Vestal. I see you brought Fritz with you.”
She served the Petty Officer some tea. The hot brown liquid filled the white teacup.
Vestal sat down in a chair next to Fritz. Belfast smiled at her.
“Would you like some tea, Dr. Vestal?”
Vestal smiled. “Sure.”
Belfast nodded as she served Vestal some tea. She poured it into a teacup for her.
“Thank you, Belfast.”
Belfast nodded as Vestal drank her tea. When she saw what she saw next, she nearly spat out her tea.
It was Fritz. His eyes were wide open. Vestal gulped her tea and sprang into action.
“Mr. Decke, can you hear me? Blink one for yes, twice for no.”
Fritz blinked once. Vestal smiled.
“Good. At least you still have your sense of hearing. I take it you are awake?”
Fritz tried to speak, but all he could do was open his mouth. Vestal sighed.
“Take it easy. You are safe. Your vocal cords still need time to recover from your coma.”
Fritz sighed. He couldn’t move his arms. He was having trouble even moving his head.
“You want to go back inside?”
Fritz blinked once and tried to nod.
Vestal nodded and pushed Fritz back into his room. She smiled as she placed him on his bed.
“Don’t worry, I’ll be right back.”
Fritz watched as she ran down the hall. Vestal made her way to Prince of Wales’s office. She was busy going through paperwork. Vestal greeted her with a smile.
“Wales, it’s Fritz. He’s awake.”
Prince of Wales smiled. “Good. Is he responding to questions?”
Vestal nodded. “Yes. So far, his vocal cords are not active. However, he is responding to both questions and stimuli. He can respond to yes or no questions by blinking.”
Prince of Wales nodded. “Excellent! Once he regains the ability to speak, we can start our plan for him.”
A week later, Fritz was in his hospital bed. Vestal was looking over him, moving his arms and legs. Fritz grimaced as Vestal sighed.
“I know it hurts, but the more I do this, the sooner you’ll be able to walk.”
Vestal stopped moving his arms and legs and grabbed a pen. She wrote on a piece of paper.
“Fritz has already regained the power to move his arms and upper body, but his legs and lower body are still inactive.”
Vestal was about to leave when she heard a weak voice talk to her.
“Hey. Can you help me shave?”
Vestal turned around.
“Fritz, was that you?”
Fritz nodded. Vestal smiled.
“Of course!”
Vestal left the room, and Fritz sat up in his bed. He lifted his legs, one after the other, and propped himself up using the bed.
“Only one way to get moving.” He thought to himself.
He fell to the floor with a thud. He sighed.
“Of course. I still can’t walk.” he thought to himself.
Fritz rolled over on his back with some effort and looked around. He saw a wheelchair and dragged himself toward it. He dragged himself into the wheelchair.
Vestal came back with a bowl of hot water, a razor, and some shaving cream. She gasped.
“How are you in the wheelchair already?”
Fritz smirked. “I dragged myself to it.”
Vestal smiled at Fritz. “You ready to get started?”
Fritz nodded.
Vestal shaved Fritz’s beard. He smiled.
“Thank you. I was getting sick and tired of the beard around my face.”
Vestal nodded. “Mr. Decke, you want to go outside?”
Fritz nodded. “I can move the wheelchair by myself.”
The two made it to the garden. Belfast was there, along with Prince of Wales and the Petty Officer.
Fritz looked at the uniforms, and his eyes went wide. Prince of Wales’s eyes went wide as Fritz stared at her.
“Belfast, Vestal, Petty Officer, May you all please leave? Mr. Decke and I have something to discuss.”
The three nodded and left, leaving only Fritz and Prince of Wales.
“I suppose you have caught on to the fact that you are a prisoner of war of the Royal Navy?”
Fritz nodded.
“I had a feeling I was. I can tell by the accents and the uniforms.”
Fritz cleared his throat.
“Where is Werner? He was the man I was with.”
Prince of Wales smiled.
“Don’t worry. He is alright. He is currently in a Prisoner of War camp in Royal Navy territory.”
Fritz breathed a sigh of relief.
“How did you guys find me?”
“We found both you and Werner floating on a wooden pallet. Both of you were near death when my sister and Javelin found you.”
Prince of Wales’s smile faded as she sat in a chair.
“I have a proposition for you, Mr. Decke. I want you to help the Royal Navy.”
Fritz scoffed. “Forget it. I am not betraying the Ironblood.”
Prince of Wales got up and got behind Fritz. She pushed the wheelchair inside the manor.
“I figured you would say that. That’s why we got some leverage.”
Fritz raised an eyebrow.
“Where are you taking me?”
“To the medical wing. You’ll see why soon.”
Prince of Wales opened a door and pushed Fritz through. What he saw shook him to his core.
It was Tirpitz. She was asleep in a hospital bed. Her middle was larger and rounder.
“Why is Tirpitz doing here? What are you doing to her?”
Prince of Wales smirked. “Relax Fritz. You don’t want to wake up your wife now, do you?”
Fritz sighed. Prince of Wales closed her eyes.
“Now, do you want to hear an explanation for everything?”
Fritz sighed. “Alright. Lay it on me.”
Prince of Wales nodded.
“We found Tirpitz in the North Sea. From what our spies gathered, she violated direct orders from Bismarck to not engage in combat duties to fight the sirens. We found her unconscious, and we brought her here.”
“Is she alright? Is the baby alright?”
Prince of Wales placed her hand on Fritz’s shoulder.
“Yes. Tirpitz and the baby are alright. She is due for an appointment with Vestal today, which is why I bought you here. She is currently six months pregnant.”
Fritz’s eyes went wide.
“I have been out for two months?”
Prince of Wales nodded. “Yes. It is August. You were out for two months. We found Tirpitz two months ago, and we have been moving her from place to place to make it hard for the Ironblood to take her back.”
Fritz and Prince of Wales froze as Tirpitz moaned as she rubbed her belly. Prince of Wales looked at Fritz.
“Mr. Decke, I want you to go back to the Ironblood with Tirpitz and try to convince Bismarck to sign a peace treaty with Azur Lane, to join us in the war against the sirens.”
Fritz sighed. “That sounds like a risky proposition.”
Prince of Wales left the room, and Vestal came in with an ultrasound machine. Tirpitz opened her eyes to see her husband. Her eyes went wide.
“Fritz?”
Fritz smiled and held her hand.
“Yes. It's me.”
Tirpitz felt tears go down her face as she embraced her husband. Fritz smiled.
“Relax. Vestal is here to check on the baby.”
Tirpitz nodded as Vestal turned on the ultrasound.
“I’m warning you now, Mrs. Decke, the gel is cold.”
Tirpitz chuckled.
“Don’t worry. I’m used to the cold.”
Vestal applied the gel. Tirpitz shivered as Vestal applied the gel.
Vestal moved the wand of the ultrasound on Tirpitz’s belly.
“Alright Mrs. Decke, we are going to find out if you are having a boy or a girl. I just have to get a good view of the baby.”
Vestal moved the wand as she sighed. “So far nothing.”
The screen of the ultrasound machine suddenly had a good view of the baby’s bottom.
Vestal and Tirpitz’s eyes went wide as they blushed. Fritz laughed. They could see a small thing dangling under the baby’s bottom. Vestal’s eyes went wide as she giggled.
“Well, it appears you are having a son, Mr. and Mrs. Decke.”
Fritz chuckled.
“That’s my boy. Mein kleiner Moritz.”
Fritz continued to laugh. Tirpitz smiled.
“I can’t wait to meet you, Moritz.”
Vestal continued the ultrasound. She smiled after she was done.
“Well, Mr. and Mrs. Decke, Congratulations. You have a healthy baby boy that is due in early January.”
Fritz and Tirpitz smiled as they looked at each other. Vestal pressed a button and printed out some photos for Fritz and Tirpitz to have.
Vestal cleaned up Tirpitz’s belly and left the small room. Prince of Wales reentered the room.
“I heard the good news from Vestal. Congratulations Tirpitz.”
Tirpitz smiled. “Where would I be staying?”
Prince of Wales smiled. “You will stay in Fritz’s room. It’s only natural for a husband and wife to sleep together.”
Tirpitz nodded as she got out of bed. She and her husband made their way to their room.
Tirpitz helped Fritz to bed as he lay down next to her. Fritz placed a hand on Tirpitz’s belly, feeling Moritz kick against his palm.
“It’s hard to believe that in a few months, we are going to be parents.”
Tirpitz smiled.
“Fritz. I have to tell you something important.”
Fritz nodded. “Go ahead.”
“When I received news that you were killed in action, I could not believe it. I was a wreck. Despite my sister’s warnings, I went on a combat mission. came across a couple of sirens, and they were having a meeting.”
Tirpitz froze as she sighed.
“I saw Friedrich Der Große with them. Before I could investigate further, they spotted me and knocked me out. Duke of York and Hood found me. They brought me here a week ago.”
Fritz’s eyes went wide.
“Friedrich Der Große? What would she be doing with the sirens?”
Tirpitz sighed. “I don’t know. The only thing I care about now is making sure you and Moritz are safe.”
Fritz took his hand off Tirpitz’s belly.
“The Royal Navy wants me to go back to the Ironblood with you to talk to Bismarck. The Royal Navy wants to see if she will sign a peace treaty to join Azur Lane.”
Tirpitz nodded. “I figured. I’m guessing you refused, as you did not want to betray the Ironblood?”
Fritz nodded.
“Fritz. I want you to help the Royal Navy.”
Fritz’s eyes went wide.
“Why?! Isn’t that treason against the Ironblood?!”
Tirpitz sighed.
“I want the Ironblood to join Azur Lane. I want my sister to be safe. Most of all, I want a world safe for Moritz to grow up in.”
Fritz sighed as he sat on the bed. “You’re right. I don’t want Moritz to be born in a world where he has to live in fear of the sirens.”
Tirpitz nodded as she sighed. She sat next to him and rubbed her belly.
“My sister Bismarck has not been herself in a few months. From the letters she's been sending me, she’s been acting strange. She’s been vomiting after eating very little, she’s been suffering mood swings, and it has been worrying me.”
Fritz placed a hand on Tirpitz’s shoulder.
“Don’t worry. I’m sure your sister is fine. We should get some sleep.”
Tirpitz yawned and nodded. Soon, the couple was asleep.
Elsewhere in the manor, two women were wearing headphones and smiling.
“Did you get that Yorkie?”
“Loud and clear Sheffie.”
Sheffield smiled. “You were right about one thing.”
Duke of York raised an eyebrow. “What?”
Sheffield smirked. “Bugging the rooms was a great idea.”
Duke of York smirked. “I don’t think they suspect their rooms being bugged.”
Sheffield nodded as she smirked back. “Let’s make sure we keep it this way.”
Duke of York took off her headphones and opened the door.
“I’ll be telling Prince of Wales and Queen Elizabeth the information we received. Please let me know if you hear anything else.”
Sheffield nodded and continued to work.
2023.06.09 21:47 Marvellover13 Recommendation for upgrades for my big 3? (Tent, sleeping bag, backpack)
Rn my big 3 consists of the naturehike Cloud up 2p tent (1780g with the stakes and ground sheet), an old (discontinued) Aztec sleeping bag I got from an uncle that's rated for 2C comfort, -4C extreme (1315g with the compression sack), and a decathlon 50L backpack that is extremely basic, and missing some essentials features IMO (1400g)
here are the important features I'm looking for in each of the products, let's start with the tent:
for the sleeping bag/quilt (never used quilts before):
submitted by Marvellover13 to CampingGear [link] [comments]
here are the important features I'm looking for in each of the products, let's start with the tent:
- the tent has to be big enough for me (1.86m) and the backpack as well that's why I go with 2-person tents.
- the groundsheet is important unless the floor of the tent is extremely durable, the ground I hike at usually has thorns/sharp stones/etc...
- I prefer a semi-freestanding tent and one that is double wall, to limit the condensation that ends up inside the inner tent when hiking in extremely humid/rainy places.
- the breathability of the tent is important as well for nights when I get 30C+ degrees
- small pockets to put glasses and lamp
for the sleeping bag/quilt (never used quilts before):
- has to be good and rated for comfort down to at least -5C
- double zippers that let me open for example a part of my leg while still staying inside
- separation for the pillow compartment or even a small pouch to put the pillow inside
- somewhere between 40-50L, and the pack has to be small enough to pass as hand luggage when fully loaded out (around 50cm in height and 40 length)
- has to have a brain, bonus if it's detachable
- pockets at each side of the hip belt, big enough for a phone or passport
- has to have big and reachable mesh pockets for water bottles of 1.5L
- a big mesh pocket in the front of the pack (the opposite side you're facing while wearing) to stuff with things to quick access
- the ability to attach a sleeping pad either to the top or bottom of the pack (have existing straps or adjustable stretchy straps to hold things in place)
- the small loops for trekking poles that are adjustable
- have at least 2 straps to the sides of the pack where I can attach some carabiner if I need to.
- Good padding of the shoulders in particular.
2023.06.09 20:58 writeoutthebox Blood, Sweat & Tears
“Blood, Sweat & Tears” I stare at the cracked mirror in the dimly lit backstage room, trying to recognise the person staring back at me. The once vibrant eyes now carry a weariness that no amount of success can erase. My name is Jake, and I've poured every ounce of my being into becoming a rock star, but lately, I've begun to question if it was worth it. Our band, "The Fallen," was born in the dingy basement of a rundown apartment building. We were just a group of misfits with a shared dream and an insatiable hunger for music. Countless hours were spent rehearsing, writing songs, and playing in empty dive bars, hoping for that one breakthrough that could change our lives. And finally, it came. We secured our first tour, hopping from city to city in a rickety old van, living off fast food and cheap motels. The late nights and endless miles became our companions as we played our hearts out in front of dwindling audiences. But perseverance paid off when we caught the attention of a record label executive who saw the raw potential in us. Our first album, "Blood, Sweat & Tears," became an instant hit. It climbed the charts, and our faces adorned magazine covers. The relentless touring took its toll, but we revelled in the adoration of fans, the exhilaration of sold-out concerts, and the euphoria that surged through our veins with every chord struck on stage. However, the dark side of success soon reared its head. The constant pressure, the unrelenting expectations, and the ever-mounting stress began to wear us down. I, in particular, felt the weight of it all crushing my spirit. The exhaustion led to sleepless nights and moments of crippling self-doubt that turned into bouts of depression. And then came the blackouts. I wake up in unfamiliar places, covered in sweat, my heart pounding against my ribcage. My mind is blank, unable to account for the hours that slipped away. Panic grips me as I frantically search for clues, wondering what I might have said or done during those lost moments. The fear of becoming a stranger to myself consumes me, and I'm left questioning my sanity. Inside the band, tensions rise. The arguments that used to be minor disagreements now escalate into full-blown fights. Trust begins to erode as egos clash, and resentment festers beneath the surface. The harmony we once had as a united force of music becomes distorted, replaced by discordant notes that threaten to tear us apart. As the fame grows, so does the darkness that lingers around us. I can't help but wonder if this is the price we pay for chasing our dreams. The success that once felt like salvation now feels like a curse, and I'm left wondering if there's any way to escape the shadows that haunt us. The once vibrant energy of "The Fallen" now hangs heavy with an ominous tension. We've reached a crossroads where the very foundation of our band threatens to crumble beneath the weight of our personal demons. As the second act of our story unfolds, the true horrors lurking in the shadows are about to be unleashed. The strain on our relationships becomes unbearable, like a frayed guitar string on the verge of snapping. Each member of the band carries their own burdens, and the pressure cooker of emotions can no longer contain the mounting resentment. Arguments turn into bitter confrontations, hurling accusations and insults that cut deep into our souls. But the dissonance within us pales in comparison to the malevolent presence that seems to infiltrate our lives. Strange occurrences haunt our days and nights, testing the boundaries of our sanity. Instruments mysteriously detune, creating discordant melodies that grate on our nerves. Eerie whispers echo through the corridors of our tour bus, leaving us trembling in the darkness. My blackouts intensify, their duration stretching into hours, and the fear of what I might become during those lost moments gnaws at the edges of my consciousness. It's as if a malevolent force takes control, using my body as a vessel for its own nefarious desires. I wake up with bloodstained hands, surrounded by shattered glass and broken memories. Paranoia takes hold, and we start to suspect each other. The camaraderie we once shared is replaced by a toxic cocktail of suspicion and fear. Our music, once a means of escape and expression, now becomes a conduit for something darker. The lyrics we pen are laced with sinister undertones, haunting melodies that seem to summon an otherworldly presence. As we delve deeper into the abyss, we discover a disturbing truth. Our rise to fame was not simply a product of talent and hard work but a pact we unknowingly made when we were desperate for success. The price we paid for our dreams was steeper than we ever imagined. An ancient curse, tied to the music we create, has awakened forces beyond our comprehension. Our very souls are entwined with the darkness, and it feeds on our anguish, our struggles, and our desperation. The success we once craved has become a prison, a never-ending nightmare from which we cannot escape. With each passing day, the malevolent presence grows stronger, its grip on our minds and bodies tightening like a vice. It's clear that we must confront the origins of this curse and find a way to break free, or risk losing ourselves entirely to the abyss. But can we find the strength to overcome the horrors that surround us and reclaim our lives, or are we destined to become mere instruments in a symphony of madness? The depths of despair have claimed my bandmates, leaving me standing amidst a gruesome tableau of carnage and unanswered questions. The discovery of their lifeless bodies shocks me to the core. Crimson splatters paint the walls, turning our once vibrant sanctuary into a macabre canvas. Their eyes, once filled with dreams and determination, now stare into the abyss, their souls forever silenced. How did it come to this? Did our pact with the shadows consume them, or is there a more sinister force at play? The room whispers secrets, but they remain locked within the shadows, refusing to reveal their dark truths. Fragmented memories of our recent days together haunt my mind, merging with the echoes of my blackouts. Did I become an unwitting puppet, dancing to the malevolent tune of the curse? Or was I merely a witness to a horror that defies comprehension? The weight of guilt presses upon my shoulders, threatening to break me. The once unbreakable bond we shared, the brotherhood forged in music, now feels like a curse. Doubt seeps into the cracks of my sanity, intertwining with the tendrils of the darkness that has plagued us from the beginning. How could I have let it come to this? Was there any way to save them, or was their fate sealed from the moment we struck that infamous bargain? As I stand amidst the wreckage of shattered dreams and shattered lives, the truth remains elusive, buried deep within the haunting melody of our story. The horror of the unknown lingers, forever shrouding our final chapter in mystery. Was it the curse that claimed their lives, or was it my own hand stained with their blood? The echoes of their music resonate within me, their voices mingling with the haunting questions that will haunt me until my last breath. So, as I stand above the four dead members of my band, covered in blood, I wonder, was it all worth it? The End.
submitted by writeoutthebox to stories [link] [comments]