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Project F Early Development Gameplay
Source: TheRiotMMO
Project F is a research in-development game that will be produced by Riot Games, Inc. The upcoming ARPG is expected to be a PvE action RPG. In other words, a player vs environment action roleplaying game. It appears to be a cooperative action game based in Runeterra, where players can team up against monsters using champions from League of Legends. Project F is isometric, stylized and casual. It seems Project F has been in development for some time. If you’re looking forward to playing it soon and learning more, then read on.

Riot Project F Announced

Interestingly, Project F was never officially announced. We had our first glimpse of Project F during League of Legends’ 10-Year Anniversary Celebration live stream.
10-Year Anniversary Celebration Riot Pls: 10th Anniversary Edition - League of Legends
Beginning at the 32-minute 38-second mark there were a few sequences of Project F gameplay. Granted, it was early development footage of Riot’s Project F. It is important to note, Riot Games intentionally previewed Project F. Project F was not a leak. In fact, Project F has been under wraps for the most part since that very day.

What is Riot Project F?

Project F is an upcoming ARPG set in the world of League of Legends. Actually, set in Runeterra to be more precise. It is a cooperative action game where players control the champions from League of Legends. You will traverse through Runeterra and defeat enemies along your way. Players will get to use iconic and familiar champion abilities that have been established through League of Legends gameplay as well as new abilities too.

Project F Landscape

There will be varying levels of inclination throughout your adventures. Given Project F is an isometric game, the sense of height and depth will be an important design element if Riot wants to make this game a successful as possible. So, throughout your adventures you will have to descend higher terrain on occasion.
You can expect to see familiar landscapes that share a similar art style as League of Legends’. As with many isometric games, such as Lost Ark, Diablo, Path of Exile, etc., the background will contain interesting landscapes while the foreground will feature rich and detailed visuals.
Overall, it appears the art design will showoff bright and beautiful colors. Expect to see the following decorative elements; colorful trees, plants, flowers, roots, large stones plus a variety of terrains. While we aren’t sure yet, it appears players cannot fall off the map.
One feature we find to be a nice touch is the dust from the ground that rises as players jump from heights.

Project F Game FeaturesPing System

It looks as though Project F might feature a ping system. Presumably players can ping locations on the field. Once a location is pinged, a red floating inverted cone will remain at the desired location for a time. Coordinated players can use pings to set focus areas, destinations, and other communicative commands. It could also be that Blitzcrank’s melee abilities inadvertently marks the ground for some unknown reason. Again, we saw early development footage. We expect most of the features to not be fully implemented.

Jumping Over Ledges

Another feature that Project F appears to include is jumping over ledges when traversing through corners of map without terrain. For example, when Ezreal walks forward, there is no terrain under him just a few steps ahead. Just before the ledge, Ezreal leaps over the cliff edge and lands on the other side. It’s unclear whether this will be a player command or our characters will jump over edges by themselves.

Cast Indicators

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Taliyah
Project F takes a feature from it’s inspiration League of Legends. Ranged characters will have casting with indicators. It’s not known if the indicators can be turned off or not. Casting indicators are a useful feature. The indicator serves as a projection guide. Players can line up the indicator with their target for improved accuracy.

Friendly Fire

Friendly fire was a feature in the early development build. When a player is in a casting state, it means they are about to use an ability. At this point a cast indicator is visible. Likely only visible to the player casting, if it’s anything like the League of Legends feature. Now, when the player’s indicator intersects with a cooperative teammate, the color of the indicator turns red.
While the friendly fire colored cast indicator is insightful, it brings up more questions than answers. First, maybe it’s possible there are various difficulties in which you can damage your teammates. Second, allies could very well block teammates skill shots, hence the red indicator. Another possibility is while hovered over an ally, you cannot cast your skill shot. All of this is speculative of course. We will provide updates as they come.

Equal Base Movement Speed

From looking at the Project F short clip, we can see each player has the same base move speed. Keep in mind, equal base movement speed may not be the case at launch. Furthermore, it’s possible gear can be equipped and stats or talents can be acquired that affect the champions movement speed. Nonetheless, an equal base movement speed does reinforce the casual nature of Project F.
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Project F Early Development Gameplay

Possible Game Features

Boss Fights

We may see boss fights. In the image below, a Project F developer is seen with a reference image on his second monitor. Part of the image showed Wild Rift assets of Varus and Ashe fighting a massive image of the League of Legends item Static Shiv.

Boss Mechanics – Slow Effect

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https://preview.redd.it/x1fpwcje3w2b1.jpg?width=864&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=3cafe07ef5f0e7952af3c7cb515481cdb6947dbe
In that same screenshot, the giant Static Shiv appear to emanate a yellow aura outwards up to under the attacking champions’ feet. The yellow aura looks incredibly similar to the slow effect from League of Legends.
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Vayne

Checkpoints

On the same map where we have Blitzcrank, Lux, and Ezreal fighting, all three champions can be seen fooling around a campfire. There are no enemies present. Furthermore, they appear to be at a dead end with only one direction to go….into the forest. In the meantime, the players are running around and using abilities around this empty campfire area. Perhaps this starting area can serve as a communication hub amongst teammates before they begin their quest or journey. Alternatively, these checkpoints could be scattered throughout zones in order to let players rest, change armor, tools, loadouts, or reestablish their strategy.

Champions in Riot’s Project F

We know of at least three playable champions in Project F. The following champions include, Blitzcrank, Lux, and Ezreal. Below includes a brief overview of the mentioned champions for those unfamiliar with the League of Legends champion roster.
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Blitzcrank

Blitzcrank is a support-style tank. In the world of Runeterra, he a a mechanical golem dedicated to protecting Zaun from harm and supporting its citizens.
In League of Legends, he uses powerful lightning infused mechanical forces to subdue, retract, and stun foes for his allies. Meanwhile, he soaks up and blocks damage effectively for his teammates.

Lux

Lux is a support-style mage. In Runeterra, Lux is an aristocrat from Demacia with the ability to manipulate light. Unfortunately, Demacia prejudice against mages.
While playing League of Legends, Lux possessing offensive and defensive magical abilities that can stun and damage enemies and shield allies.

Ezreal

Ezreal ranged damage dealer. According to the lore, Ezreal was born by wealthy Piltovan archeologists. Ezreal now explores foreign lands and uses his powerful yet mysterious Shuriman gauntlet to defeat his adversaries.
Gameplay wise, Ezreal is a ranged short-ranged damage with good mobility including short teleports.
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Project F Champion Abilities

In the snippet, we saw several champion abilities adapted from League of Legends. At the same time, there were a number of innovative abilities that fit with the theme of the respective champions. It’s worth mentioning the champion auto attacks have a low cooldown.

Blitzcrank

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Blitzcrank Fan Art
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• Basic Triple Auto Attack Combo: Blitzcrank uses three separate attack to perform a combo.

1. Blitzcrank uses both fists to attack foes directly in front of him
2. Blitzcrank begins with a wide left hook and then a wide right hook to damage enemies directly in front of him.
3. Finally, Blitzcrank leaps into the air, extends his arms and and smashes the ground doing damage doing damage in a radius around him.

Lux

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Lux Fan Art

• Basic Attack: Lux let’s out a projectile of light as well as a short arcing swipe with her wand damaging foes directly in front of her.
• Final Spark: In Project F, Lux possesses what is known as her Ultimate ability, Final Spark, in League of Legends. Lux projects a narrow beam over an incredible distance, dealing dealing high damage to all enemies.

Ezreal

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Ezreal Fan Art

• Ezreal lets out a grappling hook that returns to him upon reaching its destination.

Possible Champions in Riot Project F

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During the League of Legends 10-Year Anniversary stream, a developer had a reference page on his second monitor. It appeared to be two League of Legends champions outside of the traditional League game environment. In fact, is looked like a rudimentary Project F environment based on the ground particles seen in the anniversary video. Although, the screenshot of Varus and Ashe were assets from Wild Rift along with Wild Rift user interface. In the frame, you could see Varus and Ashe attacking a large massive image of the League item Static Shiv. Presumably the image of static shiv was a placeholder image for a boss.
Moreover, there was a clip in the video where Lulu was being designed for Project F in Unreal Engine. This Lulu was distinguished from the Lulu in League of Legends. Therefore, it’s safe to conclude, Lulu was at the least being designed in the early development stage.
Therefore, it is possible Varus and Ashe could be in Project F.
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Possible Champion: Lulu

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In-development Lulu
Lulu is a yordle from Bandle City. Specifically she is fae sorceress. While wandering in Runeterra she befriended a fairy named Pix. We she delighter to find many of her newfound abilities remained while back in Bandle City.
During gameplay, Lulu is a ranged support champion. He has a lot of crowd control and can provide her allies with buffs such as shields, increased health and movement speed.
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Possible Champion: Ashe

Ashe is an Iceborn Warmother. She is from an inhospitable norther region called the Freljord. She leads the Avarosans, which is one of the three major tribes of the Freljord.
In League of Legends, is a ranged damage dealer, known as an ADC (attack damage carry). Ashe also features support features in her kit, such as slows, and revealing fog of war for the team.
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Possible Champion: Varus

Varus used to be a magically ascended hunter from Shurima ages ago. After the loss of their king, his kind had succumb to insanity and blood magic, becoming Darkin and wreaking havoc on Runeterra. The Darkin were imprisoned in their weapons by the Aspects. Accordingly, Varus in his bow. Two Ionian men relinquished Varus. Now Varus consists of a Darkin and two men who resist his every more.
Varus is an ADC, with a mix of attack and magical damage.
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Classes in Project F

Several League of Legends champions will be designed in Project F. We also know Project F is an action roleplaying game with a cooperative option. With the brief gameplay in mind, each champion will be unique. As a result, Project F could implement at the very least a basic class system. This is an role-playing game after all.
For example, Blitzcrank make possess tankier stats such as increased health, resistances, and mitigative abilities.
Next, there could be support classes and mage support classes. If League of Legends is to be reimagined, Lux would fall into the mage-support class type. Also, Lulu would belong to the support-mage class type.
Another class would be ranged damage dealers. Naturally, Ezreal and Varus would belong to this category.
We’ve yet to see a brawler, or physical fighting class type. Would would an Action RPG be without one. It would be interesting to see champions such as Darius, Garen, Tryndamere, Olaf and others of the like fit this role.
It’s possible Assassins could be a class in Project F. We have a ton of them in League already. Assassins champions that come to mind include, Nocturne, Evelyn, Talon, and Fizz.

Who is Working on Project F?

We currently know of one Riot employees working on Project F.

Kate Chironis

We believe Kate Chironis is the design director for Riot Games’ Project F, the upcoming ARPG. If so, then she started the early development of Project F when there were only three designers. Here’s what Kate had to say.

I helped bootstrap a new game as one of three early designers on the project. I focused on core game loop, player systems, the fundamental building blocks of enemies/encounters/AI, and helping establish the initial vision for several different types of content in the game. I prototyped heavily during this time period to “find the fun” in UE4/Blueprint.Kate - LinkedIn

It’s likely the quote from Kate refers to Project F because in the League Anniversary from October 2019, we can see Kate working on Project F.

Riot Project F Release Date

We’re not sure when Riot Project F will release. Even Kate Chironis, a likely Project F employee said she’s unsure of the release date.
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https://preview.redd.it/pxtelmtl3w2b1.jpg?width=534&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=a8055a3c3d8b2262877adeaee9df9abc87f1b8b5

I am optimistic that players will get to see it, but I don’t know when.
Kate Chironis – Twitter

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Nonetheless, we can speculate the game have a trailer, gameplay or other public media in late 2024. Remember, Project F likely began around pre-development in May 2022. This is based on Kate’s start date at Riot Games from her LinkedIn experience. In the experience description she describes work that lines up with Project F. Furthermore, 17 months later, Riot showed an early development of Project F where Kate was actively iterating.

Summary

Let’s summarize what we know about Riot Project F, the in-development ARPG. Project F appears to be non-canon. We saw three unrelated champions fighting alongside each other. Specifically, Ezreal, Blitzcrank, and Lux generally do not interact in canon lore. Ezreal is from Piltover, explores Shurima. Lux is from Demacia, and Blitzcrank is bound to Zaun as far as we know. To have all three of them fighting alongside a common enemy defies canon lore.
Also, Project F looks to be a casual friendly game. We believe it would make a great party/couch game. It wouldn’t be a surprise if this game became available for PlayStation, Xbox, Switch, and PC. Project F does not appear to be graphically intensive. It comes off as a nice coop couch game you’d play on the weekends with friends.
Project F will be created in Unreal Engine. We’re unsure whether it’s Unreal Engine 5 or 4. We can expect to play as several champions such as, Blitzcrank, Lux, Ezreal, Lulu and likely more.
Stay tuned for more updates on Riot’s upcoming Project F.
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Source: TheRiotMMO

Title: "Obsidian Roses"
Chapter 1: Shadows of the Ivy
The air crackled with anticipation as Amelia Hawthorne stepped foot onto the hallowed grounds of St. Augustine's Academy, nestled amidst the fog-shrouded cliffs of Ravenhurst. A prodigious scholar, her deep, hazel eyes flickered with curiosity, taking in the towering gothic architecture, ivy-clad walls, and the mysterious whispers that seemed to echo through the corridors.
Amelia's heart quickened as she was welcomed into the secretive world of the Academy, a haven for the brightest minds and those who danced in the shadows. She soon found herself embroiled in the enigmatic lives of her fellow students, each bearing a secret, like dark threads woven into the tapestry of their existence.
Among them, a figure stood out, his presence ethereal yet commanding. His name was Lucien Sinclair, an enigmatic soul with raven-black hair and piercing blue eyes that seemed to hold centuries of secrets. Lucien's reputation preceded him, whispered tales of an unquenchable thirst for knowledge and a brooding, tortured past that had molded him into a master of the arcane arts.
Amelia couldn't help but be drawn to Lucien, like a moth to a flame. They found solace in the hushed corners of the library, their fingers brushing against weathered pages of forbidden tomes. With each encounter, a spark ignited, fueled by their shared love for literature, art, and the pursuit of the esoteric.
Chapter 2: Midnight Revelations
As the nights grew longer and the moon hung low in the starless sky, Amelia delved deeper into Lucien's world. Whispers of secret societies and clandestine rituals swirled around her, painting a picture of a hidden realm where desire mingled with danger.
Together, they embarked on midnight adventures, their steps guided by moonlight and the call of ancient knowledge. In the dimly lit catacombs beneath the academy, they uncovered a hidden chamber adorned with forgotten relics and arcane symbols, breathing life into their thirst for the forbidden.
Their bond grew stronger with each shared secret, their hearts entwined in a dance of intrigue and passion. But the shadows that enveloped Lucien's past refused to release their grip, and Amelia found herself tangled in a web of dark forces that threatened to consume them both.
Chapter 3: A Dance with Destiny
Amelia's heart waged war between love and self-preservation. She yearned to unravel the mysteries that haunted Lucien's soul, to rescue him from the abyss that threatened to devour him. Yet, she feared the darkness that lurked within him, the potential for their love to be their ultimate undoing.
Whispers of an ancient prophecy reached Amelia's ears, hinting at a love forged in shadows, capable of shattering the chains of destiny. In a desperate bid to save Lucien, she embarked on a perilous journey, guided by cryptic riddles and ancient texts, each step bringing her closer to the truth.
As the night of the Blood Moon approached, Amelia faced her greatest challenge yet. A reckoning loomed on the horizon, demanding sacrifices and untangling the threads of their intertwined fates. Amidst the echoes of forgotten incantations and the scent of smoldering roses, Amelia and Lucien would discover if their love was powerful enough to defy the forces that sought to tear them apart.
"Obsidian Roses" is a tale of love entangled in the shadows, where academia and romance collide, and the pursuit of forbidden knowledge unravels destinies. Will Amelia and Lucien find solace in each other's arms, or will the darkness consume them both, leaving nothing but echoes in the corridors of St. Augustine

HELLO! I HAVE FINALLY GOTTEN UNDERTALE AND I AM PLAYING IT WITH FLOWERY! AND IF YOU'RE ASKING WHAT HAPPENED TO MY FRIEND, THEN THE ANSWER IS THE REAL FRIEND WAS THE PAPYRUS WE MADE ALONG THE WAY! YES, I HAVE FOOLED YOU INTO BELIEVING IT WAS A FRIEND THAT WANTED TO PLAY UNDERTALE, BUT IT WAS ME ALL ALONG! I'M SORRY FOR LYING, BUT I WANTED IT TO BE A SURPRISE!
SO I HAVE STARTED MY JOURNEY BY READING THE STORY ABOUT HUMANS AND MONSTERS, AND THEN I NAMED THE FALLEN HUMAN! IT WOULDN'T LET ME USE "PAPYRUS" SO I NAMED MYSELF "COOL"! AND THEN I SAW FRISK STARING AT ME ON A FLOWER BED, AND I CAN MOVE THEM! SO I GUESS FRISK IS WHO I SHALL PLAY AS!
I HAVE TRAVERSED INTO THE NEXT ROOM AND I MET FLOWERY! AND HE IS TEACHING ME ABOUT BATTLES AND LOVE, BUT THEN HE SHOOTS BULLETS AT ME SO I AVOID THEM UNTIL HE GETS VERY ANGRY AND TRIES TO KILL ME (VERY INACCURATE OF YOU, GAME!) BUT THANKFULLY, TORIEL HAS SAVED ME WITH THE POWER OF FIREBALLS, WHICH HOPEFULLY DIDN'T HURT FLOWERY TOO MUCH!
I'VE ARRIVED AT THE RUINS AND TOUCHED THE SHINY YELLOW SPINNING STAR THING, AND GOT FILLED WITH DETERMINATION FROM THE RUINS! I GUESS THAT'S HOW I SAVE! TORIEL SHOWS ME HOW PUZZLES WORK, WHICH I DIDN'T NEED HELP, BUT FRISK PROBABLY DID SO I'M GRATEFUL ANYWAY! A FEW SWITCHES FLIPPED LATER AND FRISK HAS ENTERED THEIR FIRST BATTLE! THE FIRST THING I NOTICED IS THE HUMAN DOESN'T HAVE A MAGIC OPTION, BUT I CAN WORK WITH THAT! FLOWERY SUGGESTED I SHOULD SPARE THE DUMMY OVER AND OVER, BUT THAT DIDN'T DO ANYTHING SO I TALKED TO IT INSTEAD AND TORIEL WAS PROUD OF ME! UNFORTUNATELY THE DUMMY WASN'T VERY INTERESTED IN TALKING WITH ME!
I ENTER THE NEXT ROOM, AND PREPARE FOR THE PUZZLE UP AHEAD THAT TORIEL HAS WARNED ME ABOUT! BEFORE I CAN READ THE SIGN ON THE WALL, I GET JUMPED BY A FROGGIT, SO I COMPLIMENT IT AND TORIEL SCARES IT AWAY (HOW RUDE!) I READ THE SIGN AND MEMORIZE THE CORRECT PATH, AND FLOWERY SAYS IT DOESN'T MATTER BECAUSE TORIEL WILL HOLD MY HAND ANYWAY! INTERESTING HOW HE KNEW THAT, BUT HE IS GOOD AT PREDICTING THE FUTURE!
I ENTER THE NEXT ROOM AND TORIEL RUNS FROM ME, SO I RUN TO THE END OF THE ROOM AND FIND A PILLAR, WITH TORIEL HIDING BEHIND IT VERY POORLY, BUT I PRETEND TO NOT KNOW SHE'S THERE TO MAKE HER HAPPY! SHE RETREATS FROM THE PILLAR AND GIVES ME A CELL PHONE AND LEAVES! I THEN WAIT FOR TORIEL AND CALL HER SOMETIMES, BUT THEN I LEARN THE ANNOYING DOG IS HARASSING HER AND I LEAVE TO GO SAVE HER!
BUT AS SOON AS I LEAVE THE ROOM, TORIEL CALLS ME, SO I GUESS SHE HAS EVERYTHING UNDER CONTROL! FLOWERY REFUSES TO LET ME STAY IN THE OTHER ROOM, SO ONWARD I GO! I TALK TO A FROGGIT AND IT TELLS ME ABOUT MERCY! I GET FILLED WITH DETERMINATION BY PLAYING THE LEAVES AND SAVE THE GAME! THEN I GO UP AND FIND A BOWL OF CANDY! FLOWERY SUGGESTS I STEAL ALL THE CANDY I CAN, BUT I ONLY TAKE ONE! I INSPECT THE CANDY, AND LEARN IT HEALS 10HP! INTERESTING!
I PREPARE TO LEAVE THE ROOM, BUT ANOTHER FROGGIT ATTACKS ME! I COMPLIMENT IT AND IT SHOOTS MAGIC FLIES AT ME, SO I DODGE THE MAGIC FLIES WITH EASE AND SPARE THE FROGGIT! THEN I ENTER THE NEXT ROOM AND FALL DOWN AND SEE TWO DOORS! FLOWERY URGES ME TO GO TO THE DOOR ON THE RIGHT, AND I GET ACROSS THE FALLING FLOOR AND ESCAPE TO THE NEXT ROOM!
AS SOON AS I WALK FORWARD, I GET A CALL FROM TORIEL WHO IS ASKING IF I PREFER CINNAMON OR BUTTERSCOTCH! FLOWERY SAYS IT DOESN'T MATTER WHICH OPTION I CHOOSE BUT DOESN'T EXPLAIN WHY IT DOESN'T MATTER, SO I CHOOSE CINNAMON! I WALK FORWARD SOME MORE AND GET ANOTHER CALL FROM TORIEL, WHO IS NOW ASKING IF I DISLIKE BUTTERSCOTCH! I THEN FEEL BAD FOR LEAVING THE ROOM BECAUSE SHE HAS THANKED ME FOR BEING PATIENT, BUT FLOWERY STILL DOESN'T WANT ME TO GO BACK! I PUSH A ROCK A BIT AND THE SPIKES GO DOWN, BUT I GET ATTACKED BY A WHIMSUN, WHO LOOKS VERY AFRAID! I TRY TO CONSOLE IT, BUT IT RUNS AWAY! BEFORE I CAN LEAVE TO THE NEXT ROOM, TORIEL CALLS YET AGAIN, ASKING IF I HAVE ANY ALLERGIES! FRISK ASKS WHY SHE'S ASKING AND SHE SUSPICIOUSLY SAYS THERE'S NO REASON!
I ENTER THE NEXT ROOM, AND SEE A BUNCH OF FALLING-GROUND THINGS! FLOWERY GETS BORED OF WATCHING ME FALL OVER AND OVER AND HELPS ME WITH THE PUZZLE! BEFORE I CAN LEAVE TO THE NEXT ROOM, I GET ATTACKED BY A MOLDSMAL! I FLIRT WITH IT, AND WE HAVE A VERY MEANINGFUL CONVERSATION! THEN I SPARE IT, AND LEAVE TO THE NEXT ROOM!
I SEE 3 MORE ROCKS AND START PUSHING THEM OVER, BUT THE THIRD ROCK IS ALIVE! FRISK ASKS IT TO MOVE, AND IT DOES SOME TOMFOOLARY, BUT FINALLY I GET IT TO THE BUTTON! BUT THEN IT MOVES OFF THE BUTTON AS SOON AS I APPROACH THE SPIKES!!! I ASK IT TO STAY ON THE BUTTON, AND IT FINALLY UNDERSTANDS, AND I AM ABLE TO ESCAPE TO THE NEXT ROOM!
I FIND SOME CHEESE AND GET FILLED WITH DETERMINATION FROM THE KNOWLEDGE THAT THE MOUSE MAY ESCAPE THE HOLE AND GET THE CHEESE, AND SAVE THE GAME! I INTERACT WITH THE HOLE AND THE MOUSE SQUEAKS AT ME! I THEN LEAVE TO THE NEXT ROOM!
I ENTER THE NEXT ROOM AND SEE NAPSTABLOOK PRETENDING TO TAKE A NAP! I TRY TO WAIT FOR THEM TO LEAVE, BUT THEY DON'T MOVE SO I UNFORTUNATELY HAVE TO MOVE THEM WITH FORCE! I CHOOSE TO CHEER AT THEM, AND FRISK SMILES AT THEM, WHICH NAPSTABLOOK FINDS FUNNY?? I GET HIT TRYING TO AVOID THE MAGIC TEARS AND CHEER AT NAPSTABLOOK ONCE MORE, AND FRISK TELLS THEM A JOKE! NAPSTABLOOK PULLS A SANS MOVE AND DOESN'T ATTACK, SO I CHEER ONCE MORE! NAPSTABLOOK TRANSFORMS INTO DAPPERBLOOK AND I CHEER ONCE AGAIN, AND WIN THE BATTLE! NAPSTABLOOK LEAVES AND I LEAVE TO THE NEXT ROOM!
I READ A SIGN AND IT TELLS ME ABOUT THE SPIDER BAKESALE, SO I GO BACK TO BUY SOMETHING, BUT I ONLY HAVE 3G! FLOWERY TELLS ME I SHOULD FIND MONSTERS AND SPARE THEM, AND THEY WILL GIVE ME MORE G! I GET HIT AGAIN, BUT I HAVE ENOUGH MONEY FOR A SPIDER DONUT, SO I GO BUY ONE AND INSPECT IT, AND LEARN IT HEALS 12HP! I THEN CONTINUE ON MY ADVENTURES! I ALSO SAVE AT THE MOUSE ROOM AGAIN, AND I AM AT FULL HP! HOW CONVENIENT!
I TALK TO THE FIRST FROGGIT IN THE ROOM, AND LEARN HOW TO GO INTO FULL SCREEN! AND THEN WE WONDER WHAT F4 STANDS FOR TOGETHER! I TALK TO THE SECOND FROGGIT IN THE ROOM, AND IT TELLS ME ABOUT YELLOW NAMES, WHICH AGAIN, I ALREADY KNOW, BUT FRISK DOES NOT, AND I AM THANKFUL FOR FROGGIT TELLING THEM! IT ALSO SAYS I WILL HAVE TO SPARE WITHOUT YELLOW NAMES, WHICH DOESN'T MAKE ANY SENSE TO ME AT THE TIME! I TRY TO LEAVE THE ROOM, BUT TORIEL CALLS ME AND TELLS ME TO LEAVE SPACE IN MY POCKETS FOR SOMETHING COOL I MIGHT WANT, AND I LEAVE TO THE NEXT ROOM!
I ENTER A ROOM AND LEARN I NEED TO FIND A SWITCH HIDDEN SOMEWHERE! FLOWERY TELLS ME TO LOOK AT THE TOP MIDDLE ONE LAST, SO I DO THAT AND FIND A RIBBON, NAPSTABLOOK, AND TWO VEGETOIDS! I INSPECT THE RIBBON AND PUT IT ON FOR EXTRA DEFENSES, AND BETTER LOOKS! I GET ATTACKED BY A MOLDSMAL AND A MIGOSP, AND I SPARE THEM WITH EASE, AND ESCAPE TO THE NEXT ROOM!
I FIND THREE PILLARS AND THREE DIFFERENTLY COLORED SWITCHES NEXT TO ALL OF THEM! THE SIGN SAYS THE ROOM IS GOING TO ROTATE, SO I MEMORIZE THE ROOM AND MOVE FORWARD! THE SIGN SAYS I SHOULD PRESS THE BLUE SWITCH, WHICH I REMEMBER IS BY THE FIRST PILLAR! BUT I GET ATTACKED BY TWO VEGETOIDS AND GET HIT! I ENTER THE NEXT ROTATION AND THE SIGN TELLS ME TO FLIP THE RED SWITCH, WHICH IS IN MY VISION! I FLIP THE SWITCH AND GET ATTACKED BY ANOTHER MOLDSMAL AND MIGOSP, AND SPARE THEM ONCE AGAIN! BY PROCESS OF ELIMINATION, I FIGURE OUT I NEED TO FLIP THE GREEN SWITCH, WHICH IS BEHIND ONE OF THE PILLARS! I LEAVE TO THE FIRST ROOM TO REFRESH MY MEMORY, AND AFTER SOME THINKING, I FIND THE GREEN SWITCH AND MOVE FORWARD!
I FINALLY ENTER A NEW ROOM, AND FIND TWO DIFFERENT PATHS! FLOWERY TELLS ME TO GO RIGHT, AND I FIND A FROGGIT, WHO TELLS ME TORIEL WAS HERE RECENTLY! I ALSO LEARN THAT FROGGIT IS INTIMIDATED BY TORIEL, WHICH IS STRANGE BECAUSE OF HOW KIND SHE IS! I GO UP TO FIND A GIANT CITY, AND A TOY KNIFE! I INSPECT THE TOY KNIFE, AND LEARN IT IS A DEADLY WEAPON, SO I DISCARD IT! I THEN GO TO THE OTHER PATH AND REUNITE WITH TORIEL! SHE HEALS ME AND TAKES ME TO HER HOME!
I ENTER TORIEL'S HOUSE AND SHE TELLS ME SHE WAS MAKING A PIE TO WELCOME ME TO THE UNDERGROUND! SHE ALSO TAKES ME TO MY NEW BEDROOM, WHICH I WILL BE STAYING IN FOR THE TIME BEING! I EXPLORE THE ROOM, AND FIND SHOES AND TOYS AND VARIOUS OTHER COOL ITEMS! I TURN THE LIGHTS OFF AND THE SONG TURNS INTO A MUSIC BOX VERSION! I THEN DECIDE NOW IS A GOOD TIME TO GO TO SLEEP, AND I WAKE UP TO A SLICE OF PIE SITTING ON THE FLOOR! HOW KIND OF TORIEL TO LEAVE THIS HERE! I INSPECT IT AND LEARN IT FULLY HEALS ME! THIS MUST BE A VERY VALUABLE ITEM! I LEAVE MY BEDROOM AND INSPECT THE PLANTS AND DRAWERS AND THE MIRROR! I ALSO FIND A LOCKED ROOM, AND A NOT LOCKED ROOM!
SO NATURALLY, I ENTER THE NOT LOCKED ROOM, AND LEARN IT IS TORIEL'S BEDROOM! INSIDE HER BEDROOM IS A BUCKET OF SNAILS, WHICH FLOWERY DESCRIBES AS "SURPRISINGLY GOOD", AND JUDGING BY HOW TORIEL TALKED ABOUT MAKING SNAIL PIE EARLIER, I'D SAY FLOWERY AND TORIEL EAT SNAILS! WHICH IS TOTALLY NORMAL, ACCORDING TO FLOWERY! I ALSO FIND TORIEL'S DIARY, AND DECIDE NOT TO READ IT TO RESPECT HER PRIVACY! I FIND THE MOST TSUNDERE OF PLANTS, CHAIRIEL, TORIEL'S BED, AND A BOOKSHELF THAT TELLS ME ABOUT TYPHA, OR WATER SAUSAGES! INTERESTING KNOWLEDGE! LASTLY, I FIND TORIEL'S SOCK DRAWER, AND I LEAVE THE ROOM!
I LEAVE THE HALLWAY AND INSPECT THE BOOKSHELF AND VERY OLD CALENDAR, AND THEN I TRY TO GO DOWNSTAIRS BUT TORIEL TELLS ME NOT TO! HOW SHE KNEW I WAS DOWN THERE, I HAVE NO IDEA. BUT ALAS, I MUSTN'T PLAY DOWNSTAIRS! I GO INTO THE LIVING ROOM AND FIND TORIEL READING A BOOK! I TALK TO HER, AND FRISK HAS THE OPTION TO ASK WHEN THEY CAN GO HOME?? FLOWERY TELLS ME TO LOOK AT EVERYTHING ELSE FIRST, AND SO I DO!
THE FIRE IS PLEASANTLY WARM, MUST BE MAGIC FIRE! I FIND A HISTORY BOOK ABOUT MONSTERS BEING TRAPPED BY THE BARRIER, AND ALSO I LEARNED ABOUT ASGORE'S INCREDIBLE NAMING SKILLS! I FIND SOME TOOLS THAT HAVE BEEN FILED DOWN, AND ENTER THE KITCHEN! INSIDE THE FRIDGE, THERE IS A BRAND-NAME CHOCOLATE BAR! THE SINK HAS WHITE FUR STUCK IN THE DRAIN, AND I CANNOT IMAGINE WHO'S FUR THAT BELONGS TO! I LOOK IN THE CUPBOARD TO FIND COOKIE CUTTERS FOR GINGERBREAD MONSTERS, TO WHICH FLOWERY SAYS HE REMEMBERS STEALING GINGERBREAD MONSTERS FROM TORIEL WITH THE MEDDLING CANINE ONE TIME, AND IT WAS A "BONDING EXPERIENCE", WHICH IS VERY NOT COOL OF FLOWERY, BUT I FORGIVE HIM! I FIND THE UPGRADED PIE, BUT IT'S SIZE INTIMIDATED FRISK AND I CANNOT GET IT! LASTLY, I FIND THE VERY CLEAN STOVETOP, AND LEARN FROM THE NARRATOR THAT TORIEL USES FIRE MAGIC TO COOK! INTERESTING METHODS, I PREFER USING NON-MAGIC FIRE, BUT IT IS WHAT IT IS!
I THEN TRY TO FIND ANYTHING ELSE TO LOOK AT, BUT FIND NOTHING. SO I AM UNFORTUNATELY FORCED TO ASK HOW TO LEAVE! BUT THEN TORIEL ASKS ME TO LISTEN TO HER BOOK ABOUT SNAILS AND I FEEL SUPER BAD, SO I LISTEN TO HER, AND I LEARN THAT SNAILS SOMETIMES FLIP THEIR DIGESTIVE SYSTEMS AS THEY MATURE! I DIDN'T NEED THAT KNOWLEDGE, BUT I HAVE IT NOW! AFTER SOME BOONDOGGLING, I GET THE COURAGE TO ASK HER HOW TO LEAVE, AND SHE RUNS AWAY! I LOOK THROUGHOUT THE ENTIRE HOUSE, BUT I CAN'T FIND HER! I CALL HER, BUT SHE DOESN'T PICK UP!!
I FINALLY REALIZE THAT THE BASEMENT IS THE ONLY PLACE I HAVEN'T LOOKED, SO I GO DOWN THERE AND SEE TORIEL STANDING THERE! I WALK UP TO HER AND SHE TELLS ME SHE IS GOING TO DESTROY THE EXIT TO THE RUINS SO I CANNOT LEAVE! SHE TELLS ME TO GO UPSTAIRS BUT I HAVE TO CONVINCE HER TO LET FRISK ESCAPE, SO I CONTINUE MOVING FORWARD! TORIEL TELLS ME ABOUT HOW THE OTHER HUMANS THAT FELL DOWN HERE HAVE DIED TO ASGORE??? VERY INACCURATE YET AGAIN, GAME! BUT I DECIDE TO MOVE FORWARD ONCE MORE! TORIEL TELLS ME THIS IS MY FINAL WARNING, AND I CONTINUE MOVING FORWARD, AND SHE THROWS ME INTO BATTLE!
THE FIRST THING I DO IS TRY TO TALK HER OUT OF THIS, BUT FRISK CAN'T THINK OF ANY CONVERSATION TOPICS! IF ONLY I HAD BEEN THERE TO HELP!! TORIEL THROWS FIRE AT ME, AND I TRY TO CHECK HER FOR SOME EXTRA KNOWLEDGE! I LEARN TORIEL HAS 80 ATK AND 80 DEF, WHICH IS HIGHLY INTIMIDATING, BUT I CANNOT GIVE UP! I GET HIT BY HER NEXT ATTACK, AND I TRY TALKING YET AGAIN, BUT TO NO AVAIL! I TRY ONE FINAL TIME TO TALK, BUT FRISK JUST CAN'T THINK OF ANYTHING!! I GET HIT TWO MORE TIMES AND AM BROUGHT DOWN TO 12HP!
EVENTUALLY, I SPARE HER, AND SHE REMAINS SILENT, BUT IT SHOWED TEXT THIS TIME! THAT MEANS I'M GETTING SOMEWHERE! I GET HIT ANOTHER 3 TIMES AND AM BROUGHT DOWN TO 3HP, SO I HEAL USING THE MONSTER CANDY! I CONTINUE SPARING HER, AND SHE STAYS SILENT, UNTIL EVENTUALLY SHE USES A QUESTION MARK! I SPARE HER YET AGAIN, AND SHE ASKS WHAT I AM DOING! I GET KNOCKED DOWN TO 7HP, BUT I CONTINUE SPARING! SHE TELLS ME TO ATTACK OR RUN AWAY, NONE OF WHICH I WILL BE DOING ANYTIME SOON! SHE ASKS WHAT I AM PROVING THIS WAY, AND I GET HIT, BUT LEARN SHE'S NOW ONLY DEALING 1 DAMAGE! I SPARE AGAIN, AND SHE TELLS ME TO FIGHT HER OR LEAVE, WHICH I AM STILL NOT DOING! I SPARE HER AGAIN, AND SHE TELLS ME TO STOP IT. I DON'T KNOW HOW MANY MORE TIMES I CAN TELL HER I'M NOT DOING THAT. SHE TELLS ME TO STOP LOOKING AT HER THAT WAY, BUT THAT'S FRISK'S FACIAL EXPRESSION, WHICH I CANNOT CONTROL! I SPARE HER AGAIN AND SHE TELLS ME TO GO AWAY! HOW RUDE. I SPARE AGAIN, AND SHE GOES SILENT AGAIN! I SPARE HER AGAIN, AND SHE LOOKS SAD, AND HER FIREBALLS ARE NOW AVOIDING ME! VERY SAD, BUT I'M DOING IT!
I SPARE HER AGAIN AND THE MUSIC CUTS OUT. SHE ASKS ME TO GO UPSTAIRS, BUT THE FLEE OPTION IS GONE. NOT THAT I WAS GOING TO USE IT ANYWAY. SHE TELLS ME SHE WILL TAKE GOOD CARE OF ME HERE, AND I'M SURE SHE WILL, BUT FRISK CLEARLY WISHES TO RETURN TO THE SURFACE! SHE TRIES CONVINCING ME TO STAY. I CONTINUE SPARING HER, AND SHE ASKS ME WHY I AM MAKING THIS SO DIFFICULT. UNFORTUNATELY I CANNOT ANSWER. SHE ASKS ME TO GO UPSTAIRS, WHICH I DO NOT! SHE GOES QUIET AGAIN, AND STARTS LAUGHING! SHE THEN CALLS HERSELF PATHETIC, WHICH IS VERY NOT TRUE!! SHE GOES QUIET AGAIN, BUT SHE FINALLY AGREES TO LET FRISK GO!
THE BATTLE ENDS AND SHE TELLS ME TO NOT GO BACK TO THE RUINS! I WILL TRY TO CALL HER SOMETIMES WHILE ON MY JOURNEY! SHE THEN HUGS ME AND LEAVES! AND I DIDN'T CRY! I SWEAR! I THEN CONTINUE MOVING FORWARD, AND I MEET FLOWERY AGAIN, WHO SHAMES ME FOR SHOWING MERCY, AND LAUGHS AT ME! BUT NOW I KNOW HIS PLAN ISN'T REGICIDE, SO THAT'S GOOD! I THEN WALK INTO THE DOORWAY AND READ THE CREDITS! AND THEN I ARRIVE AT SNOWDIN, BY THE GIANT DOOR!
I WALK FORWARD AND GET HARASSED BY SOMEONE'S SILHOUETTE! I REACH THE BRIDGE AND STARE AT THE SILHOUETTE AND IMMEDIATELY RECOGNIZE THAT IT'S SANS! VERY INACCURATE AGAIN, GAME! I MET THE HUMAN FIRST! BUT THIS IS SOMETHING SANS WOULD DO, SO ALSO ACCURATE IN A WAY! FRISK SHAKES SANS' HAND AND HEARS THE WHOOPEE CUSHION! SANS THEN ACTIVELY DOESN'T DO HIS JOB, AND SOMEHOW GOES THROUGH THE BARS, SAYING THEY'RE "too wide to stop anyone", WHICH IS VERY NOT TRUE! THOSE BARS STOPPED EVERYONE!
FRISK HIDES BEHIND THE LAMP AND A VERY HANDSOME AND COOL SKELETON RUNS ON-SCREEN! I ALSO WATCH THE SAME CONVERSATION I HAD WITH SANS THAT ONE TIME PLAY OUT, SO GOOD JOB FOR BEING ACCURATE, GAME! BUT ALSO HOW DOES THE GAME KNOW ABOUT THAT?? ALSO, IT JUST DAWNED ON ME THAT SANS WAS HELPING ME WITH HIS GOOFY ANTICS??? ANYWAY, FLOWERY AND I LAUGH AT MY PUN, BOO AT SANS' PUNS, AND CONTINUE MOVING FORWARD! SANS ASKS THE HUMAN TO SHOW THEMSELF TO ME TO CHEER ME UP, AND IF SANS REALLY DID THAT, I THANK YOU BROTHER! IT DID IN FACT CHEER ME UP! AND THEN SANS LEAVES, AND SO DO I!
I GET FILLED WITH DETERMINATION BY THE LAMP'S CONVENIENCE AND SAVE THE GAME! AND THAT IS WHERE I SHALL STOP PLAYING FOR NOW, BECAUSE I NEED TISSUE! BECAUSE! I AM NOT CRYING!! I JUST HAVE SOMETHING STUCK IN MY EYE AND NEED TO GET IT OUT!! I SHALL PLAY UNDERTALE AGAIN LATER! I HAD A LOT OF FUN, EVEN THOUGH IT WAS VERY INACCURATE SOMETIMES!
-NYEHFULLY YOURS, PAPYRUS AND FLOWERY

Hello Nosleep!
I honestly just need someone to listen and not think I’m crazy. I also have other reasons for wanting this written in a form that I’m not able to later change, for reasons that will become apparent.
Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Alex, and I've been an active member of the 3D printing community for years. I've dabbled in various printing projects, from practical prototypes to detailed minifigs. I like to pretend I’ll use them for tabletop gaming, but if I’m honest, I rarely leave the house and don’t really have anyone to play with. Which is fine, I’m happy to be a homebody and have my little hobbies by myself at home. But recently, my 3D printing hobby has taken an… unexpected turn.
It all began a couple of months ago when I embarked on a new project—a 3D printed statue for my sister’s bathroom. Being a fan of Egyptian mythology, she wanted to incorporate an Egyptian theme, and asked if I could print a small egyptian statue for her. It had been a while since I used my printer, so it sounded like a fun project. However, I was having trouble finding a good free print on any of the usual sites, and I didn’t want to have to pay for a file. So I turned to a 3D printing search engine, Yeggi. That’s when I saw the Sebu statue for the first time. The site was in some kind of foreign language I didn’t speak, but the 3D model had an air of mystique yet simplicity that immediately drew me in, and I knew I had to print it. It was definitely egyptian looking, would be a simple print with few supports, and it was free. Perfect.
It had been a while since I used my printer, so I went through the usual process of re-leveling the bed, cleaning out the old filament (apparently the last time I printed I was trying out some flexible filament… no wonder I stopped printing!) and swapping in some bronze metallic filament. Usually I just print in white PLA, then prime and paint, but I wanted to try a nicer-looking plastic since this was a gift, after all. Plus I’m guessing it would eventually get wet, or work its way into my niece’s sandbox, so better a solid color than paint that would get rubbed off. Plus the statue was a really simple one, so a single color would be fine.
I sliced the file, saved it to my SD card, and started up the printer. The layers of filament slowly built up, taking shape as the Sebu statue emerged. It honestly looked amazing, I couldn't wait to see it on display in my sister’s Egyptian-themed bathroom, she was going to be blown away. Looking back, that was probably the last time I felt really, really good about anything to do with the statue. By comparison, everything now seems… cloudy? Probably best I give examples.
First, getting the statue off the print bed was a hassle, which rarely happens with my glass bed. I ended up trying to use a razor blade to separate it without ruining either the print or the bed (it took over 24 hours to print!) and ended up slicing my hand pretty good, which was fairly shallow but did get blood everywhere. Luckily I must have loosened the print at least, because when I went to rinse the blood off of it in the sink, it immediately popped off the bed without any damage.
I still needed to clean up the brim, but felt uneasy about using a razor blade right away (my usual method for trimming my 3D prints). I still had several days before my weekly lunch with my sister, so there was no rush. That’s when my memory started getting kinda uneven. I couldn’t remember where I set the statue down after I put a band-aid on my hand. But not just that one time, it seemed like every time I put it down for a minute, I’d lose track of it. Then finding I’d put it in weird places. You know how you find your keys in the fridge and can’t remember putting them there, but have a vague sense that you must have? Imagine that, but every time you put your keys down you get distracted by the most random thing, then can’t find them. And it just keeps happening
Of course, that happened every time I saw my sister, so I could never give it to her. Finally, I decided to just print my sister another one. But for some reason, the print kept failing. I went back to basics, printing some test prints like Benchy and Moon City. Those came out relatively fine, but no matter how I tried, I could not get the Sebu file to print again. I’d end up with thermistor errors, spaghetti prints, and even once it somehow printed a completely different file (I must have selected the wrong one I guess). I must have been back in the 3D printing mood because it seemed like I had the printer going nonstop for weeks. In some ways I felt like I did when I first got my printer, churning out all kinds of useless things for the fun of it. Looking back though, I don’t remember it being much fun, more just stressful, like I needed to get a certain number of prints done. I went through almost all of my leftover filaments, not just from the new roll but most of my old stuff too. I even managed a flexible filament Benchy!
During this time the Sebu statue continued to be a source of confusion for me. I’d find I had left it on the kitchen counter or perched on a shelf in the living room. Its presence became more and more unnerving. I would find it in my bedroom, sitting on my nightstand as if watching me sleep (obviously I had just forgot that I set it down there before bed), or in the bathroom, staring at me while I brushed my teeth (where I clearly just put it down so I could wash my hands). Its uncanny ability to appear seemingly out of thin air really started creeping me out though. I finally started just carrying it around with me. It couldn’t pop up unexpectedly if it was in my hands, right? I didn’t take it in bed with me or anything of course, that would be weird, Lord Sebu wouldn’t like that. Bedtime was my one escape from the damned thing.
I did start to notice strange incidents happening when I was holding the statue. It started subtly—a flicker of lights, objects slightly shifting position in my periphery. I’d find other 3D prints had moved from the big box I stored them in. However, I chalked it up to my niece playing with them and leaving them laying around.
I first started accepting that something unexplainable was happening when I began finding prints I had no memory of printing. Weird little articulated dolls and strange creatures. It didn’t make any sense, so I started a log of everything I printed. And yes, I checked the batteries in my carbon monoxide detector.
The most distressing incident involved a family heirloom—a precious dreamcatcher that had been passed down through generations. It hung above my bed, one of the only things I had to remember my Grandfather. Just a few days ago, I noticed it was missing from the wall. I found it under the bed, partially destroyed, as if some unseen force had torn through its delicate webbing and knocked it to the ground. Apparently I had also dropped a few prints down there, as they were lying on the dreamcatcher. Lord Sebu was also under the bed, watching. The dreamcatcher was given to me by my grandfather just a few weeks before he passed, when I was very young. I’d been having typical childish nightmares, and my parents were at their wits end as my sister was a newborn at the time and they were already getting very little sleep. It had been hanging on the wall of his living room for probably decades, but he brought it over to give to me. My parents say that ever since the night he brought it over, I never woke them up with nightmares again. It’s been on the wall of my bedroom ever since, even when I was in college. Its destruction left me with an overwhelming sense of loss and vulnerability.
Shortly after that was the bathroom incident. Some pills in my medicine cabinet had switched containers. It may sound insignificant, but it could have had potentially dangerous consequences if I hadn't noticed the mix-up. I’m not even religious, let alone superstitious. But that’s when I couldn’t ignore or rationalize it anymore, and really started taking things seriously. But try telling your GP that you’re worried you’re being… haunted? Luckily my sister is a NP, so I brought it up during our weekly lunch. She insisted it must be a result of stress and not getting enough sleep. That made sense, things didn’t really seem THAT bad until the dreamcatcher broke, and I’ve not slept well since then either. That kind of interruption to routine could easily have an impact on my mental health.
Sleeping pills were a lot easier to swallow (ha!) than beliefs in any kind of supernatural activity. So drugs to the rescue! She also promised to see what she could do about fixing the dreamcatcher for me, she’s pretty crafty (as her extremely well-decorated house will attest). The next day she came over and did a dang good job of mending it, and having it back on my wall plus some melatonin seemed to do the trick, I got a good night’s sleep again!
Things did seem a lot better when I was well-rested. But I was still feeling a little unsettled, and decided to start keeping a journal, especially since I kept misplacing my list of prints. Around that time I also noticed that some of my benchies were printing oddly. Instead of the little ‘3DBenchy’ text on the back, there was just a strange capital D with some lines coming off of it. I tried again, and got the same thing. This time the bottom also had the D, except it was turned on its side with a line coming from it, like a little umbrella with two handles? My best guess is some hacker figured out a virus to print their tag on everything coming out of a 3D printer?
I asked around on 3DPrinting but nobody had ever heard of such a thing. Adding to the growing list of peculiarities, I found myself unable to locate the original source file for the Sebu statue on my computer. It had vanished without a trace.
But the strangeness didn't stop at physical anomalies. I also noticed discrepancies in my handwritten journal, which I’ve been using to document my 3D printing projects, ideas, and experiences. Pages went missing, and others appeared to have been altered or written without my recollection. It was as if someone—or something—was tampering with my thoughts and memories.
The once-solid anchor of my journal is now a source of confusion and doubt. I needed a written record that I had no ability to change or destroy. That’s when I remembered reddit. Even if someone or something changes my reddit posts, there are multiple archive services I could use to go back and determine what the original contents were. So I started posting.
Unfortunately, when I tried to share my experiences on 3DPrinting, my posts were swiftly removed for being off-topic. I understand the mods’ position, but I needed answers and this all had started with 3Dprinting, right? Luckily, one user did manage to reply to one of my posts before it was deleted, and recommended a different subreddit—one that embraces the strange and unexplained: Nosleep. I’d never heard of it, and my first reaction was ‘that sounds like the opposite of what I want’. But it does appear you guys are more accepting of these kinds of posts. Perhaps some of you had encountered similar phenomena? Maybe you have theories or experiences that could shed light on my predicament. At the very least, I can post my experiences here and they won’t be changed. I can’t seem to log in to my old account either, but I think a fresh start with a fresh account is a good idea anyway.
So here I am, reaching out to you, those familiar. I need your help to understand what's happening. Have any of you experienced similar occurrences after printing certain objects? Is there a logical explanation I’m missing? I just want things to go back to normal.
EDIT: Here's a picture of the Benchy showing the symbol, hopefully it works, I kept getting errors when I was uploading it.

I've been having so much fun with this little story. Here's part one if you'd like to read it in its entirety! But to summarize:
Vr'ocria and Human Aldrick were sent on a survey mission together. Things went south, Aldrick made sure they were safe, and then Vr'ocria learned what human sleep is and how vulnerable humans are when they sleep. Vr'ocria's people don't sleep, but enter stasis, a form of rest in which they typically stand, and they are still slightly aware of their surroundings. Vr'ocria finds human sleep utterly adorable, and also decided she would protect Aldrick while he slept. And she also developed a massive crush on him. (Her scales turning purple is her version of blushing)
Vr’ocria ran the engine diagnostic again, and again it came back inconclusive. She slammed her fist on the dusty controls. “Blasted thing.” Of course she got stuck with the rusty, crusty old shuttle pod that no one else wanted. Why did these things always happen to her? She just wanted to do her job!
Not for the first time, she wished she had Human Aldrick for company.
It had been two moon cycles since Vr’ocria had last seen Aldrick. They’d only served on the one away mission together, and once they returned to the ship, they’d been sent their separate ways. They worked in separate departments, after all.
But that didn’t stop her from missing him. She’d only spent a few solar cycles with him, but somehow was already totally enamored by the human–the human who was supposed to be a terrifying, dangerous, nearly indestructible monster.
Vr'ocria had met a handful of humans during her service, and they were all polite enough. But Aldrick was the first human she'd ever spent any extended alone time with. It was on that away mission that Vr’ocria learned what “sleep” was: The human form of rest in which the human becomes completely unconscious, and thus, totally defenseless. Something about learning humans were even able of being defenseless at all, much less in such a complete way, had changed her entire perspective on them. She’d grown up always being told to fear the humans, the wild, indestructible humans.
She had been nervous enough to quake in her scales, but he was nothing but kind to her. And when she saw him sleep for the first time–planets, what a blasted cutie. During their few cycles together, she always stood by him when he slept and she went into stasis. Her people were still slightly aware of their surroundings while in stasis, so she would be able to protect him if there was danger.
She couldn’t help but worry about him ever since they separated. Who was going to keep watch while he slept? What if something happened, what if there was an ambush or a ship malfunction and he couldn’t wake up fast enough? She wanted to be there for him…
Vr’ocria cringed at the memory of when she asked her nestmate, Galek, about human mating rituals.
“You want to mate him? Are you insane?”
"No! I mean–well…" Vr'ocria reminded herself to keep her voice down; Aldrick was still sleeping in the next room. "I…Galek, listen–"
"He's a human!" Even through the communicator, she could hear his scales snap. "He's dangerous!"
"He's nice! When the away mission went wrong he made sure we were safe and–" her voice caught when she remembered the way Aldrick strolled fearlessly through a thunderstorm, one warm hand gripping her wrist, unflinching at every thunderclap and lightning strike in the sky that rattled her to her core, as he led them to a cave for shelter.
Galek sighed. "Vr'ocria, let it go. We are not compatible with humans, they do things differently anyway. They don't mate."
Vr'ocria stilled. "They don't?"
"No. Well, kind of? Ugh, why am I even telling you this…"
"Because I'm your favorite nestmate," Vr'ocria grinned.
"Shut up." There was no bite to his words. "Anyway, what I mean is that humans usually court each other first, and then mate. I think they call it 'marriage.' But that's all I know."
She hummed in thought. "This is good to know."
"Vr'ocria, I mean it." Galek was back in protective-nestmate-mode. "Drop it, it's a terrible idea. Humans are…it's just a bad idea, okay?"
"I'm not gonna do anything," she mumbled.
And what if he doesn't even like me anyway?
Her scales faded to a faint red and her shoulders slumped at the thought. Back in the present, she absent-mindedly flicked through the controls on the cracked panel in front of her. Maybe Galek was right, and she should just stay away from Aldrick altogether.
“Agent Vr’ocria, report.”
Vr’ocria jumped at the tinny voice that suddenly filled the cabin. She pressed the comm button. “Commander, this pod is–” she stopped herself from using a few choice words– “in a state of engine malfunction. I can’t even diagnose a problem. I’m not going anywhere in this thing.”
”Stand by.”
Vr’ocria drummed her fingers on the consol.
”Agent Vr’ocria, you’ve been reassigned to shuttle pod Delta. You will join a crewmate there.”
That’s right, Delta was a two-person pod. She groaned inwardly at the prospect of working with someone else in such a cramped space.
Vr’ocria tried not to drag her feet as she approached the Delta pod. The loading door was already open, and she climbed inside. “Hello? I’ve been re–”
“Vr’ocria!”
She turned towards the cockpit, and her scales flashed to purple in record time. “Aldrick?”
The human was beaming as he maneuvered through the tight space to approach her. “It’s so good to see you again!”
“What are you doing here?” she asked, silently urging her scales to go back to green. “Aren’t you in engineering?”
He shrugged, suddenly looking everywhere except her face. “I uh..I asked to be transferred to the survey department.”
“Why?”
His cheeks turned pink. They seemed to do that a lot. Vr’ocria really needed to ask the ship’s doctor if that was normal for humans or if he was getting sick. “Engineering just wasn’t doing it for me, y’know? Needed a change of pace. I volunteered for that one survey mission and it turns out I liked it, so why not try it full time?" He turned back towards the cockpit. “We should get going! I think this mission is gonna be more fun than the last one. The planet we've been assigned has a more stable atmosphere, so fewer storms."
So she and Aldrick would be working together, alone, again. Vr'ocria swallowed hard before following him to the cockpit. Oh, planets, why did these things always happen to her?
—
The trip to planet Theta-7 was quiet. Aldrick occasionally tried to engage her in conversation, but Vr'ocria pretended to be engrossed in her file pad. Guilt prodded her spine with every one-word answer and noncommittal grunt, but she was determined to keep her distance. Aldrick eventually fell quiet, and her scales nearly curled in on themselves in shame.
She avoided looking in his direction, but she still heard the sound of his canteen unscrewing and the slosh of liquid as he took a sip. Her nostrils flared at the odd, bitter-sable scent.
When she realized she recognized the smell, her eyes blew wide and she whirled to face him, dropping her pad. "What are you doing?" She nearly shrieked.
Aldrick lowered the canteen from his lips, looking startled. "Uh…drinking my coffee?"
"Coffee?" Another foreign word. "That's remfrylie! It's a deadly poison!" Her blood was rushing through her veins so fast she feared her scales would start to swell.
Aldrick laughed.
Laughed?
Her scales turned yellow and stood on end. "What is this?" She asked indignantly.
"I'm so sorry, Vr'ocria," he rubbed his eyes, still chortling. "I forgot, I should've warned you–humans call remfrylie 'coffee.' It's a beverage, we drink it. The caffeine in it gives us a boost of energy."
She stared at him.
As if making a point, he took another big gulp from the canteen, and smiled at her. "See? Totally fine."
Slowly, her blood slowed and her scales laid back down. But there was still a thrill of fear deep inside her–she'd become so enamored with him that she'd forgotten how dangerous he was. Drinking pure poison? Just for a boost of energy?
She turned away, embarrassed, a little afraid, and a little angry at him for scaring her like that. She bent over to pick up her pad from where it fell at her feet and went back to mindlessly flicking through her files.
Fabric rustled as Aldrick shifted in the seat next to her. "Hey," he said softly, "I really am sorry for scaring you. I didn't mean to do that."
"It's okay." Her voice was clipped and short.
Aldrick was quiet for a moment. "Is everything okay?" He asked slowly. "Have I…I mean, have I done something to offend you? I'm really sorry if–"
Guilt washed over her again. "No, no you haven't done anything." She finally looked over and tried for a weak smile. Now that she was actually looking at him, she could see the way he'd turned his whole body to face her, his fingers fidgeting at the edge of his seat and his warm brown eyes filled with worry.
Oh, that's right, humans had color in their eyes. Her people only had large black pupils, but humans had pupils with–what's the word–an "iris." She'd seen humans with brightly colored irises before, and while she found them beautiful, they also freaked her out. It was just so very strange.
But Aldrick's eyes…
The brown was a little closer to her own black, making them feel more familiar. In the tiny, cramped cabin, she realized that this was the first time she'd ever gotten a chance to really study his eyes up close. The brown seemed to swirl, and she noticed that there were layers of shades and colors floating around his pupils. And when natural light from a sun shining through the window hit them just right–
Aldrick cleared his throat awkwardly and turned to face forwards again. "Looks like we're here."
Vr'ocria looked forward and saw Theta-7's solar system quickly approaching. Oh, right. They had a mission to do.
—
Theta-7 was warm, just how she liked it. The sand, not so much. She tightened her boot laces twice to keep sand from finding its way inside.
The mission, thankfully, went smoothly. Walk, scan, record. Walk, scan, record. Being out in the field was different from working aboard the ship like she usually did, but she found she enjoyed it. With the agreeable weather, she quite liked the peaceful repetitiveness of the work.
Although, things were still awkward between her and Aldrick. She fought the urge to make excuses to drift away from him–since it was just the two of them, they needed to remain within eyesight of each other in case anything happened. As a result, she had a front row seat to Aldrick’s human antics. He climbed trees like it was nothing, crossed a stream by easily hopping from boulder to boulder, nibbled on plants he claimed were edible but that still made Vr’ocria’s scales ripple with unease, and even insisted on approaching a ferocious, furry creature with his hand outstretched and cooing “Hi kitty! Hi baby! Come here, let me give you scritchies, come on–”
Vr’ocria didn’t know what a “kitty” was, but a baby it definitely wasn’t. “Aldrick, please,” she called weakly.
“But she’s so cute!”
“It’s got claws! And look at its big teeth!”
Aldrick grinned as the creature crept closer. Its head came to Aldrick’s hip from where he knelt, still reaching out with his fingers and making a scratching motion in the air. “Naw, she’s just a little baby, aren’t you sweetie? Come ‘ere!”
Vr’ocria trembled on the spot as the creature was finally within arm’s reach of Aldrick. He began scratching its sandy-colored head, and to her disbelief, the creature closed its big eyes and leaned into his touch. “Oh, yes,” Aldrick positively giggled, “you’re such a sweet little baby, aren’t you?”
Vr’ocria could only stare, stunned, as he continued scratching the creature’s head, then its cheek and chin–extremely close to its massive fangs.
“All kitties like scritchies, huh?” he cooed at the…kitty.
Okay, they were kind of cute.
It, she corrected herself. The ”kitty” was cute. Not him. Definitely not.
She didn’t notice her scales flushing a soft pink as she watched him nearly pull the “kitty” into his lap, beaming and petting it. A gentle smile crossed her lips.
Aldrick glanced over at her and tilted his head. “You’re pink. That’s new, I haven’t seen that color on you before.”
Vr’ocria’s blood froze and her scales immediately flashed to purple. Blast. Shit. Fuck. Great, now she was picking up human curse words.
He blinked at the sudden change in color.
"Oh it’s–” she coughed, “it’s nothing. Just the heat, I think.”
“Are you okay?” He eased away from the creature as he stood, and it darted off into a hole in the rocks. “Do we need to take a break?”
Stop being so NICE, she growled inwardly. “No no,” she squeaked instead. “I’m fine. Let’s keep going.” She buried her head in her scanner and walked briskly towards the next scanning zone.
When night fell, the two of them made their way back to the shuttle pod. They still had scanning to do, but it wasn’t safe to work through the night, so they agreed it was best for them to take rest inside the pod.
Once they were safely inside, Aldrick laid out what he called a “bedroll” on the floor of the cockpit, between the two pilot seats. Still dressed in his uniform, he laid down and shifted until he appeared as comfortable as he could get. Tugging a blanket over himself, he glanced toward Vr’ocria. “Well...good night.”
“Sleep well,” she murmured. She stood in the short aisle in front of him, facing the door, and began to enter stasis. Despite how much she’d come to struggle with her feelings for him, she was still determined to protect him while he slept.
It was in the middle of the night when Vr’ocria snapped back to full awareness.
Thud.
There it was again.
Shuffle shuffle.
She whirled around and threw herself on top of Aldrick, clapping a hand over his mouth as he jerked awake with a muffled shout.
“Shh!” she hissed. “Something’s out there.”
He stared up at her with wide eyes as she slowly removed her hand. She didn’t move from her position on top of him as she looked up and around the cabin, trying to discern where the sound was coming from.
Thud.
“The door,” Aldrick whispered, looking over her shoulder.
There was one last thud, then a beeping sound.
”Shit!”
Without warning, Aldrick was grabbing her shoulders and flipping them so that he was on top, and before she could even react, there was a core-rattling BOOM.
She couldn’t hear herself scream as a shockwave blew fire and debris over them, and then everything went dark.
Vr’ocria groaned as she came to, her head pounding. She found herself sprawled in the sand, looking up at the night sky. She slowly pushed herself into a sitting position, her limbs heavy. “What…” when her eyes focused, she gasped in horror.
The side of the shuttle pod where the door used to be now had a big hole blasted through it. Debris and supplies were strewn out across the ground, and judging by the drag marks, it looked like someone had dragged her body out and thrown her haphazardly into the sand.
She leapt to her feet, stumbled, fell, and jumped up again. Forcing her legs to steady under her, she stormed into the pod, and came face-to-face with a Norvidian pirate.
“Fucking pirate,” she roared, drawing her fist back and punching him right in the face. He yelped and dropped the thing he was dragging, and with horror, she realized it was Aldrick.
Something deep and primal flooded through her veins, and she grabbed the Norvidian's head. She slammed it against the wall, once, twice, three times, before dropping him to the ground, where he oozed yellow blood.
“Well that was fucking scary.”
Vr’ocria snapped out of her haze.
Aldrick was struggling to climb to his feet, and she darted forward to catch him before his face hit the floor. “Oh planets, oh my–Aldrick, are you alright?”
He rubbed a hand over his face, still looking dazed. “Yeah, I think–I think I’m okay.” He laughed, and it sounded a little hysterical. “Did you kill that guy?”
She looked over at the pirate, and somehow, she felt no remorse. “I hope so,” she growled. Logically, she knew the pirate was probably just tossing the two of them outside so he could raid their supplies. But the sight of him dragging a limp and pale Aldrick was burned into her memory, and her bright yellow scales rippled with rage.
“Jesus, you’re fucking scary when you’re angry.” He laughed again. “It’s kinda hot.” He turned pink and his face twisted in an expression she didn’t recognize. “Uh, pretend I didn’t say that.”
Vr’ocria didn’t know what it meant for something to be “hot,” so she played along and pretended she didn’t hear that. “We need to get you cleaned up,” she said instead. “Can you stand?”
Aldrick started to shift his legs, then went tense and dropped his head to her shoulder with a groan. It was then that Vr’ocria was able to lean forward enough to see his back, and she gasped.
The back of his shirt was in tatters, stained red with blood. Cuts and burns raced across his skin, and Vr’ocria knew that if she had taken the blast like that, she would be dead.
“Aldrick–” her throat felt thick, “Your back…shit–”
His breathing was ragged against her shoulder. “Hurts like a bitch,” he ground out, “but it won’t kill me. Just need to disinfect and bandage it.”
She laid him down on his stomach as gently as possible and rushed to the cockpit, praying that the first aid kit was undamaged. “Thank the planets,” she breathed as her fingers closed around the handle of an intact box.
She tried to steady her shaking fingers as she gingerly cut his shirt away and began dressing the wounds according to the kit’s instructions for treating humans. She also dressed the few injuries that ran down the back of his legs. Luckily–or unluckily–the damage was concentrated on his back. While she worked, she could see his muscles tense tight enough to crack, his teeth grinding and his hands clenched into fists so tight that his knuckles were white. She knew there had to be painkillers in the first aid kit, but she wanted to get his wounds dressed as fast as possible to prevent him from bleeding anymore. All she could do in the meantime was whisper quiet apologies.
Once she’d gotten him bandaged up, she finally dug through the kit. “Here,” she said as she fumbled with a bottle, “I found some pain killers, they’re supposed to be fast acting. You just let them dissolve in your mouth.”
She could tell he was in too much pain to move, so she held two of the pills up to his lips. He let her feed them to him, and after a few moments, he visibly began to relax. “Oh, that’s good shit,” he slurred into the floor.
“Feel better?” Vr’ocria asked hopefully.
“Yeah.” His voice was still crackly and weak. “Still aches a bit, but I don’t wanna scream about it anymore.”
“Good.” She stood and draped a blanket over him. “Now, stay put and don’t try to move. I need to figure out how to get us out of here.”
The shuttle pod wasn’t going anywhere any time soon. When she investigated the control panel, she found that the blast had knocked out communications, and their personal communicators were wrecked as well. “Great,” she mumbled.
Making her way back outside, she glanced around until she saw the pirate’s tiny craft a distance away. He must’ve landed out there so we wouldn’t hear him, she mused. She was reluctant to leave Aldrick alone, but she jogged the distance and pried the door open. The thing was a rust bucket, stinky and creaky, and she quickly decided she didn’t want to risk loading Aldrick up in that thing.
What to do, what to do…
Then she remembered: There was a survey outpost a few kilometers from here. She could take him there for professional treatment, rest, and to contact their ship.
When she got back to the pod, Aldrick was standing, leaning against the wall.
"How are you feeling?" She asked as she approached.
His eyes seemed clearer now as he looked up at her. "I've been worse," he said with a crooked smile.
Vr'ocria thanked the planets for human durability.
She let out a breath. "There's a survey outpost near here, due east. It's a few hours' walk. Do you think you can make it?"
Rather than answering, he stooped to pick up a blanket from the floor, shook out the dirt and debris, and threw it around his shoulders to cover his naked torso. "Let's go." He hopped easily out of the pod, and Vr'ocria could only shake her head in disbelief as she followed him. Humans truly were unbreakable.
It was still nighttime, but the clouds in the sky had cleared to reveal two big, bright moons that illuminated their way. Vr'ocria kept a close eye on Aldrick as they walked. While at first he seemed totally unaffected by his wounds now that they'd been dressed, she was beginning to notice the tight lines around his eyes, his white knuckles where he fisted the blanket, and the way each step he took was just a little shaky.
After walking in silence for nearly an hour, she finally found her voice. "Thank you," she said quietly, "for saving me back there."
He looked at her with those warm brown eyes and she thought she would melt. "Anytime."
Stupid purple scales.
They were halfway to the outpost when Aldrick collapsed. His knees hit the ground and Vr'ocria darted forward with a yelp to catch him before he went all the way down.
"Aldrick!" She shook him. "Look at me! Hey, hey…"
But all he could do was groan as his head lolled in her hands, slumping forward so that he sagged against her. Vr'ocria tried not to panic, but her scales stood on end anyway. "Aldrick!" This time her voice cracked.
Okay, okay, calm down, he's gonna be fine, he's human, it's gonna be okay… But doubt still twinged in her spine.
She ruffled her scales. Snap out of it.
"Okay. Aldrick," she took his face in her hands, "I need to put you on my back, but you'll have to help me."
He didn't respond.
She slapped him.
"Ow!" His eyes shot open. "Jesus, woman–"
"Look at me. I need to put you on my back, and you have to help me."
He blinked, eyes still cloudy, but finally nodded. It took some maneuvering, but Vr'ocria finally got him situated on her back–"piggy back style," he called it. She held his legs around her waist, and used the blanket to tie him to her. She could feel his warmth and heartbeat from where he was pressed against her back. His breath ghosted across the nape of her neck, sending tingles over her scales.
She tightened her grip around his knees as she walked. My human.
"You're pink again," Aldrick mumbled behind her ear.
Vr'ocria pressed on.
—
By the time they reached the outpost, her back was aching and her feet were sore, but she didn't care. She waved down the watchmen, and within minutes they were being swarmed by a med team. Aldrick was now fully unconscious and much too pale, and the medics wasted no time loading him up on a stretcher and carrying him to the med bay. When they tried to insist that Vr'ocria go to a separate room for evaluation, she snarled and snapped her yellow scales until they backed off.
She wasn't leaving Aldrick's side for a minute.
By the next morning, the med team had worked their magic and Aldrick was sleeping peacefully. He was curled on his side like he usually did, his face free of lines, lips parted, softly sighing with each breath.
Stupid human and his stupid cute sleeping.
She brushed his hair from his face, gently trailing her fingers across his cheek. Human skin was much softer compared to her scales, and warmer too. Aldrick had once explained that humans are "mammals," creatures that were "warm blooded." Her people were "cold blooded." Maybe that explained why she always wanted to touch him, hold him, feel his warmth…
Aldrick shifted and sighed, and her breath caught as he leaned into her hand. His eyes cracked open and he gazed blearily up at her. "Hi," he croaked.
She smiled. "Hi."
"You're still pink," he observed. "Are you okay? Did you get checked out?"
Blast all the planets. "I'm okay," she assured him. "My people turn pink when…when, um…I-I'll tell you another time," she stuttered. Galek was going to kill her.
Aldrick reached up to take her hand from where it still rested on his cheek. "Thank you for taking care of me."
She squeezed his hand. "Anytime."
This got so much longer than I thought it would 😂 How do we feel about one more part where these two idiots finally admit their feelings for one another?

A day late but we're here, my little cheeto eaters! Remember as always to grab your bingo cards and let's get our little long weekend slumber party going. This whole fucking thing is FORTY MINUTES LONG, you're all lucky that my sibling who was supposed to spend the day chilling at my place has apparently forgotten that plan.
​

• There's a new opening style than all her other vlogs. Not sure if that's because of Morgan but also I don't care enough to go hunt down exactly which influencer she cribbed this style from. It features a lot of horse butts. Also her using her phone in bed, which I thought she didn't do because she's mindful.
  • The music she uses is this song, which is DEFINITELY not copyright-free, so have fun learning how actual copyright law works, Paige! The lyrics playing over the are "there are times when/it feels right to/run away, run away/when you ask the same old questions/every day, every day/Why do I set the stage?/Why do I find my place on the pedestal?", because I guess Paige went to the Love is Blind school of "make sure the lyrics of whatever song you use are really, REALLY literal"
• Giveaway winners! Congrats to the three people who won a pile of Paige's old garbage! Don't worry though, if you didn't win her trash, she'll be doing a lot more of these because she "appreciates [us] guys so much" and "wants us to experience some of the things that I'm so grateful to get".
  • Nothing says grateful like giving away your extras to strangers and instead of doing anything to promote them like you were supposed to in return for getting them for free, using the existence of this stuff as a way to leverage yourself up on the algorithm.
    • There's also Dairy Boy in the giveaways, of course, because no one's buying it organically.
• She explains moving Louie, it's the same stuff she said on Instagram. Weirdly horses are like the only animal I've never gotten super obsessed with, so I have no idea how BS this is, but it's almost word-for-word her IG explanation, so it's the same level of BS that was. She does word this though as it being a "charity project" and "passion project" she "donated to", because there was a dearth I guess of places to keep your horse in the rich people part of Connecticut.
  • She has to first run to get a grazing muzzle so Louie doesn't overeat in the pasture. This sets off my internal bad animal treatment alarms in a huge way, but again, don't know enough about horses to know if this is warranted.
• Just kidding! Don't let Paige into a Tractor Supply unsupervised, she's too much of a ~country girl~ to not come out with "so much shit". She also got this beef jerky that looked "so good". It's Iowa Smokehouse beef jerky.
  • It apparently looked good because all she had for breakfast was coffee. Why she only had coffee I'm not sure, since it's not like she didn't have the time to get something better. Coffee and beef jerky for breakfast sure is a choice, and one I'm sure her intestines didn't make her pay for later. This summer is all about ~hot girl indigestion~.
  • Story time! This looks like "legit, real beef jerky", which Paige knows because when Paige was in boarding school she stayed with a family who had a lot of cows and they made their own beef jerky, which Paige was of course intimately involved in, I'm sure. Anyway this makes her have such high standards, which is why she loves when somewhere like Tractor Supply (an enormous fucking chain, Paige) or a "local country mart" sells jerky because it's always better.
    • Fun fact that took me less than thirty seconds to Google, this "real" beef jerky is also available on Amazon
• More of the same definitely not copyrighted song as she packs up Louie's stuff and moves him. There's a lot of woman laughing alone with salad shots as she packs up and pretends to talk to... someone and "carry stuff" (ie: stand around touching her own body awkwardly)
• Some weird things about this whole sequence - 1) the "farm" she moves Louie to appears to have very poor, dilapidated fencing, red flag for me. 2) Paige is wearing a white shirt and then a white cardigan the entire time while DEALING WITH A HORSE and it never gets stained or dirty, which tells me she did fuck all, 3) the only guy with her is this big bald much older man who I assume is the guy starting this venture, meaning he's almost certainly who films her cantering around on Louie without her wearing a helmet laughing, which is so unbearably awkward. Like imagine asking a random older dude to film you doing that in a pure white sweater, 4) when Paige brushes Louie he sheds SO MUCH. Is that bad? It feels bad. When a dog sheds that much, even in the spring, it usually means no one's been brushing it regularly, 5) Louie has such a dip in his back and it makes me wince every time, especially when Paige shows him next to another horse. I don't know what that's from, but I hate it and it doesn't look comfortable for him.
• Nance and Baloo are at home when Paige gets back so she's just going to "throw on a little outfit" and they're going to go out for Mother's Day in Brooklyn. Paige really, really didn't want to go into the city because I guess she's suuuuch a country girl (nice, Paige) but she's doing it for her mom and to see her sister
  • Oh my god she DOESN'T CHANGE HER SHIRT FROM THE BARN, she wears a white henley, what look like blue pajama pants, and a leather coat.
  • Nance steals some of Paige's clothes (how I don't know since they're totally different sizes) and according to Paige is"slaying the boots", a phrase I will pay actual cash money to never hear Paige say again
• Next morning, return of the out of focus camera, though it may have been by accident this time because it stays out of focus. Anyway serious business Paige with her serious business glasses is starting the day with some "desk work". Is that a thing? A phrase? What the fuck is "desk work"? Has anyone who actually does work at a desk ever called it that?
  • When she's in Europe it's definitely harder for her to sit and do computer work even though she has a laptop but starting the day on her desktop at the same time as her "whole team" (WHO) it really makes a difference for them being all on the same page.
    • Okay so my actual job in real life is doing shipping and order management for a small creative goods company. I know very intimately what goes into product development, order fulfillment, etc, and Paige is just straight up saying nonsense. Like I paused and gave serious thought to what possibly she could be talking about, and I don't know what all this "work" is. If she was making everything in-house that's one thing, but that's not work she could possibly be doing or overseeing from Europe. But if she's outsourcing stuff, having it sent to a warehouse, and, then paying someone to ship it out for her, I guess she's doing... development? But that makes no sense because again, she outsources everything. She isn't doing wholesale, there isn't a lot to arrange for pop-ups if everything is outsourced and pre-made and she's only supposedly having one this summer, she only has eight products so the website maintenance is pretty easy, as is accounting, and she only really sells stuff around a drop which she does maybe twice a year.......... like genuinely I'm baffled here. It's my job to do this exact same thing every day with products that aren't jeans or sweatshirts or whatever and I'm so, confused about what her "work" is.
    • Allegedly they're on the "final push" for so many big projects and you know what, if any of these projects involve Paige actually doing anything besides feeling three different samples of denim swatches or deciding which vendor she's going to outsource oven mitts to and saying "I like this" or "I don't like that", I will issue her an apology. I feel safe in the idea that I won't have to issue her an apology, but I will keep on on offer in the off-chance I'm wrong.
    • She just finished making a line sheet (genuine lol once I looked up what that was) and apparently we are going to freeeeak out when we see her new merch - sorry, elevated lifstyle products.
    • It's denim. She's been working on denim. She shows us the final washes but it's in direct sunlight so it's all blown out and out of focus so they look mostly white? But she got the "perfect color". IDK, it's a light wash. I prefer dark wash, actually. It's a lot more flattering and forgiving. But we've already determined my aesthetic and Paige's aesthetic are not the same aesthetic. She's nobly pushed back production six months because she refused to do a full run unless the wash was absolutely perfect. It was so expensive but she needed to love love love the denim, because it's really what she's passionate about and what she wants to do, she wants to be the best denim brand out there. You know, because she's hand-making this denim herself, not just sending instructions to low-wage Chinese workers while being afforded the privilege to fuss over the perceived quality for six months because she has parents who are willing to flush money down the toilet on this. Also, for the record, but denim is like... a choice? Like what is the vision, exactly, because every clothing retailer has some version of denim and people are already super married to their faves, so how exactly is this business model working for her, here. And it doesn't look like stretch denim either, which means it's going to fit a very, very narrow group of body types. Like speaking from ample experience crying in GAP dressing rooms over my "freakish" (read, not built like a popsicle stick) as a teenager in a time before jeggings, jeans are not forgiving and easily worn by everyone. The thing about what Paige is doing so far is that it's universal enough. You don't have to really tailor an oversized sweatshirt or trucker hat to fit you. Everyone can make room for another overpriced candle. But denim??? IDK girl, you do you.
• Paige makes Olivia a latte. Olivia comes in and say it's story time about coffee. Paige asks if she should turn off the camera for this and Olivia says no so Paige continues to film herself preening while Olivia tells her a story about how messy she is frothing milk. Paige spends the entire time interrupting her to go "no! No! No! No!"
  • They look at buttons and rivets and embossed leather patches for the back, and then sweatpants leg panel samples. Baloo hangs out with them and Paige tells him he's stinky. She eats toast.
    • WHAT IS THE POINT OF ANY OF THIS. She's not DESIGNING anything, she's just doing that thing like, you know when you're choosing your racer in Mario Kart and there are a couple hundred variations of wheels and chassis and you just choose the unique combos you want to put together? She's doing that but with generic clothing. I've been jokingly referring to her stuff as "elevated Zazzle" but this isn't even Zazzle because Zazzle you UPLOAD ACTUAL ARTWORK TO. Why is she re-inventing the wheel? What improvements does she think she's making TO A PROVERBIAL WHEEL.
• Not sponsored showing off gifting time! It's not in focus at all so we can't really see any of the products (professional!). One of the products she mentions is that she's friends with CYNTHIA ROWLEY'S DAUGHTER who has nepo baby'd her way into dropping oven mitts and aprons that look like Strawberry Shortcake's rejects. Like they're cute, but they're again little strawberries on white. Like tell me none of you silver spoon-ass bitches cook without telling me by making WHITE OVEN MITTS. Those will turn yellowish and burnt after, what a single batch of brownies? Taking a piece of toast out?
  • This haul includes her tennis Tommy bag. Not sure how she got it since she brags about it being "sold out everywhere even Poshmark and depop"
  • There is sooooooo much of this free bullshit. How does she even get this much free bullshit. Why do companies waste so much money sending this to people like Paige who don't fucking care and openly give it away. What is the point of an influencer. IDK at this point I'm spiraling, this vlog is like a third of the way through and nothing has happened.
• Paige unpacks with Nance. She has so many clothes and I don't think she's worn any of them. Full disclosure that this was the point I actually got annoyed and had to take a break and play some video games for fifteen minutes because while growing up comfortably or on the upper end of middle class in a generational wealth type of town has taught me a lot of patience for people with too much money, there is at some point a limit to how conspicuous over-consumption and waste I can handle, and that point for me came when I saw how many sweaters Paige has that look like they've never been worn. And the on top of this she has a giant suitcase of stuff she's going to depop! The environment? Never heard of her.
• Paige is going to get groceries. She's needed Nance's help to do all the hard stuff she's had to do today like going grocery shopping and having soooo many clothes. She goes to Trader Joe's, then goes to a horse shop and of course buys MORE SHIT SHE DOESN'T NEED. I'm not condoning what the French did when they invented the guillotine, like that was really violent and horrible, but the point is that the longer I watch this vlog the more I'm understanding their motivations.
• Paige goes on a sunset ride with her friend Lauren, this song plays in the background as a flagrant copyright violation, I realize at this point that there's no way this video is going to stay up without Youtube copyright striking it so I have to be extra detailed for posterity and we still have so much to go and this is going to take forever. Louie's back still looks horrible and as someone with inherited lordosis, I feel for him.
• Tommy facetime! He says exactly one sentence and catches a tiny fish, for those of you keeping track on your Bingo cards.
• Nance is still over Paige's house when Paige gets back because she never leaves. Paige is wearing old Dairy Boy sweats. At this point when I scrolled down to press the play button again I realized that Nance has posted a comment about how proud she is of Paige within seconds of the video being uploaded. I live with my mother and sometimes I still need her help on stuff like yelling at health insurance until they cover stuff for me and even I am confused by how codependent their relationship is. Like doesn't Nance have her own house? A husband? Other children? Paige has spent this entire vlog needing Nance's help to do everything from grocery shopping to folding laundry and acting like a teenager. It's a rich text for a therapist to one day unpack.
  • It's Taco Monday, this is just a dumb and boring version of Paige performing the white people taco night song. Also bewildering, Paige seemingly DOES NOT KNOW HOW TO MAKE TACO STUFF. It involves almost no cooking! She even bought the spices pre-packaged! She needs Nance's help on this too!
  • Undisclosed new cooking knife brand product placement. They are amazed that it............slices.
    • OH NO SHE SAYS SLAYING WITH BOOTS AGAIN ABOUT THE KNIFE END THIS MISERY
  • Ahahhahah the reason they're so impressed is because they've apparently been cooking with unsharpened knives. Like Paige didn't know you could sharpen knives. A master chef, ladies and gentlemen!
• Oh god we're only halfway through. Paige wakes up the next morning. She got so freckly yesterday (read: she's courting melanoma and is going to age like a raisin). She's going to go play tennis at a club in Greenwich her parents are members at (Note, she shows the logo which means you can spend five seconds googling to discover it's this club. Membership is invite only and it's gauche apparently to discuss how much membership costs, but the estimate is EIGHTY GRAND A YEAR. To be clear, that is nearly THREE TIMES the average American household income. Paige is the child of people who spend more in one year to play tennis a few times a week than most people do getting fucking doctorates, which clears up a few things for me: one, I've never gotten those texts where she casually demands Morgan Wallen pay her back tens of thousands of dollars like it's $50, but I guess to her it is like $50, and two, why everything about Paige and how she acts towards people and money in this video is a million times more effective at radicalizing people on economic policy than anything Bernie Sanders has ever lain awake at night dreaming of.
  • Camera going in and out of focus during this explanation.
  • Ah she's doing it with her mom. Again. Heaven forbid Paige breathe without Nance.
  • Oh also she has to shoot an ad in the tennis dress, but she definitely likes and would go to play tennis anyway.
• More unboxing undisclosed adver- I mean PR.
  • I'm so serious, tthe flagrant wealth being thrown around in this video and the amount of free stuff a trust fund baby with absolutely no merits or skills whatsoever is getting because she has 300K followers on Instagram that she probably bought half of is like the best argument for socialism I have ever seen.
• .Paige gets dressed in the third outfit of the day to go to the dentist. The pants are pointedly too big on her so they don't stay up in the waist and create this weird enormous kangaroo pouch around her crotch. She pairs that with a toddler sized medium t-shirt for a football team she's probably never heard of, a choker that looks like something a boy band member in the early 2000's would wear but out of fake pearls, and cowboy boots. It's... the look sure is looking, let's just say that.
• Paige opines on how much she prefers to do vlogs at home, but don't worry, she won't stop doing travel vlogs for us! (Oh thank goodness, where would we be without the insights we get from them.) She feels like they add variety to her channel (what, no, we LOVE coming with you to the barn to watch you ride without a helmet over unsourced music! five times a vlog!). Sometimes she feels like there's this pressure to show us as much as she can, which explains why all we see in her travel vlogs is hotel room bathrooms, tennis matches, and the tops of various tabletops in restaurants. Anyway she feels like there's pressure because in reality she's there for Tommy. Which we KNOW, that's the entire PROBLEM, Paige. If you were HONEST about the fact that being a WAG on tour sucks and you don't get to actually see the places you're pretending to really go and immerse yourself in, we WOULD HAVE FEWER COMPLAINTS AND YOU'D FEEL LESS ANXIETY, the problem is that you have to keep compulsively lying about how cultured you are and how you really ~got a feel~ for the location. Just stop lying!!! Stop!!! Lying!!! Challenge!!!!! The anxiety you feel and the reason you have to monitor this subreddit comes from your CONSTANT LYING.
  • Ugh she would NEVER have gone to ROME if it weren't for Tommy. I think this is a ploy for authenticity but boy is it coming across as privileged.
    • I do think in her own Paige way though this entire monologue she has is about something I've noticed her talking around a lot - I think she's afraid if she stops travelling and being a WAG no one will care about her. I think she's terrified of doing what makes her happy, which is being home, hanging out with her mom, riding her horses, and spending her parents' money. But if she just let herself do the things she actually liked and stopped trying to always pretend to be cooler and more interesting than she is, no one would keep paying attention to her, because it's not like she has a sparkling personality or wit or unique point of view. Like I'm an interesting person to talk to, but if I tried to make a vlog of my life it would be pretty boring. I work a 9-5 M-F job and the most interesting part of my life is when I go to a concert or craft fair on the weekend or one of my neighbors goes out of town and I watch their cat. It's not riveting, but I also don't need to be doing fascinating things in order to be or feel like an interesting person. But people like Paige who need to always be travelling and going to events and flaunting how busy they are are often really sad and empty people. They're not doing any of the little mundane things that make people happy and spending time connecting with the people around them, they're just always moving around because they're afraid if they stop for five seconds, people will see that the only thing they have going for them is all that movement and travelling. I think Paige is constantly torn between the anxiety that comes with constant travel and isolation and putting herself on display and removing herself from the things that bring her a sense of calm and security, and the anxiety that if she allows herself to feel calm and secure, she'll lose the attention she craves. IDK seems like a thing she shouldn't keep indirectly admitting to in vlogs, seems to kind of undercut half of her material, but what do I know.
  • Also she really is going to positively contribute to Tommy and his life and career, ie: she needs to go home and feels comforted by home because that's where her mom and Amanda wait on her hand and foot and everything is about her, which she misses when she's with Tommy because when she's on tour with Tommy she has to accept that he's the center of attention and she's not.
  • Her home vlogs have been performing the best, like, significantly. Since she probably buys views and comments, this just means she likes them better and therefore buys more engagement for them.
  • Apparently her analytics are telling her that 30% of her views are coming from the "explore" feature, which she says is YouTube rewarding her for being consistent, and, uh. No. Not how that works.
    • I mean yes if you buy engagement it will put you in the algorithm more, but this is the time in the video where she accidentally self-owns. If you're an actual channel getting actual views from people who actually enjoy watching you, then VERY LITTLE of your viewership should be coming from the "explore" feature, MOST of it should be coming from subscribers or regular viewers or people who watch similar content. That's how the majority of people watch YouTube or find new videos to watch. But if fully a third of your viewers are coming from what's essentially a randomizer button, that pretty much confirms Paige is buying views and/or that a lot of viewers leave after a minute or two. Because if her content was good on its own, people would see it and subscribe, and then she wouldn't need to rely on the "explore" feature. But if she, as she says, is consistently getting a third of her viewership from that feature, than that means that a third of people are just randomly watching whatever YouTube puts in front of them and not engaging with her at all, meaning the ONLY POSSIBLE explanation is that she's essentially buying enough engagement to keep appearing on the explore page, but buying the opportunity to be put in front of people isn't actually getting her a larger audience because what she's serving them is a warmed-over turd.
  • Anyway Paige is counting on you not knowing the extreme basics and trusting that she "knows someone who used to work at YouTube who told her that's how the algorithm works"
    • Um if you don't know about social media - no one who works at YouTube or any social media company knows how their algorithm works unless they're the ones writing it, and if they do know, they're not going to tell you because that's extremely valuable, proprietary information and also there's like a lot of papers and NDAs and non-competes they'd be breaking if they did. They're telling you to upload consistently because it's good FOR THE MEDIA COMPANY. The company is trading in being a content hub, so they need people to consistently be uploading content, ie: raising the value of their site in a way they don't have to pay for. That's the entire business model of every. Single. Digital media platform. Heck, that's how most dating apps work too. The product is data. They want you to be giving them free product.
  • "I don't know, like I don't like doing things just for social media anymore?" HAHHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAH
    • And a week later you spent a weekend attending influencer parties in the Hamptons for....... what exactly. The scintillating conversation?????
    • She's very quick to say that's not the case if she has to shoot an ad! Loves shooting ads! Please keep sending her free stuff!
    • God this is taking me multiple hours but at this point I've sunk too much time in and also am convinced this won't stay up for copyright issues, so I'm taking a break to like, stretch and clean the bathroom, anything to get me moving and listening to my own thoughts which are in complete sentences.
• I'm back after cleaning the bathroom. I've been at this so long that my sibling has shown up. But I only have ten minutes to go and I REFUSE TO GIVE UP. This whole completely unhinged and unintentionally revealing rant has approximately a trillion uses of the word "like" is from 21:00 to 26:00 and if you want to watch it you can. I probably should have transcribed it for a full AP Lit level analysis, but I'm tired. If we're lucky, when Paige tries to re-upload this with copyright-free music, she'll have kept that in there.
• Paige ordered a shed! She's so excited!
• The fence looks mildly less jacked up when they go back. Paige is brushing Louie constantly in this video. Fourth time I think we've seen her do this. I feel like there's a lot more to horse care than brushing them and she only shows us this part because it looks aesthetic and she doesn't do any of the actual hard or necessary parts like shoveling horse shit, but what do I know.
  • This sequence uses unsourced but definitely copyright song number three!
  • Fun fact: Paige is the same fake brown color as Louie's dappled neck. Aw, you know how pets eventually look like their owners? Cute.
  • Shout out to Paige's friend (perhaps Amanda? Olivia? Can't keep the preppy brunettes straight anymore) who actually wears a helmet riding.
• Next day, we open with a bit of this song (not sourced, copyright infringement number four, possibly more that at this point I no longer notice tbh). Paige puts on boots to go to the new shed and realizes the vlog is going to be so long because she's never done a whole week at a time before. Because I've made it this far, I'm the best. (Aw.)
  • Paige calls Tommy to wish him happy birthday and films it, which seems... odd. Especially since she doesn't film it in a way where he can see she's filming.
  • Paige gets tea for breakfast (nutritious) and a coffee for the guy at the barn we must have seen earlier. His name is Aaron. I could do some google sleuthing and find him probably, but I don't care. Paige met him going on trail rides at her old barn. Do middle aged men usually hang out at barns doing trail rides? Just scoping out young idiots with disposable income? The whole thing seems sus. Apparently he has like seven kids.
  • Paige never realized how expensive pre-made sheds were, but it's a local business that makes it by hand! I assume the local business is called Costco And Sons.
  • More uncredited The Shins plays as Paige only loads the shed with blankets and nothing heavy or unpicturesque.
  • Another Tractor Supply run, at this point they're who really should be sponsoring Paige
  • Paige goes to say goodbye to Louie and he HIDES FROM HER IN THE WOODS
    • Girl.
    • Oh my god no wonder he's mad at her, they've been staying somewhere WITHOUT A STRUCTURE. He's been sleeping OUTSIDE. It got into the 40's every night in New England last week!!!
• Out of focus Paige talking about how she had suuuuuch a long day "running errands". Olivia didn't get to join Paige on her little horse girl excursions because she had to be at the warehouse and onboarding a new DB employee. Anyway Paloma is in town now
  • Paige learns that apparently you're supposed to be washing veggies as she prepares things to grill. PAIGE HAS BEEN COOKING THIS WHOLE TIME NOT WASHING VEGGIES. I.......... I am going to need to be sedated after this.
• Paige exfoliates and puts on a definitely not sponsored face mask
  • She's wearing skiing pajamas. In case we forgot she was a skier. Did you know she was a skier????
    • PSYCH, these are from previous ads with PJ Place but actually she really likes these and this one ISN'T an ad she just loves the product so much
• Paige is doing her makeup! We're at the end stretch! I'm almost there!
  • She took a day off of vlogging to go see her grandparents, but immediately segues into her Ulta trip. Because of her stupid grandparents, she didn't get to go to the barn, frankly how can she survive in these conditions.
  • Dairy Boy phone case plug! She was soooo specific about what she likes in phone cases and definitely didn't just choose between Zazzle, Redbubble, or (insert other brand here)
    • It's a shitty thin cover that looks like it protects your phone from approximately nothing and should cost $10 but I estimate she'll sell it for at least $40
    • Of course because Paige was so super particular about the details and business-minded when it comes to quality it took a long time to make........phone cases.......
  • Tommy calls and says hi
  • Paige rambles about her day and makes coffee. Tommy sent her peonies because he's "so cute". We see the phone cases and they're weird and ugly. More "gifting" (undisclosed advertising) that came in the mail
• Paige makes pickled red onions, every time she does it she changes the recipe a little bit even though she totally has a recipe and isn't googling. She starts pickling carrots which she says are going to "go bad soon" (that takes like six months, how do carrots even go bad?) She also does it in a water glass which, good luck ever drinking from that again without it tasting like vinegar.
• And then with no warning, it cuts off. That took me three and a half hours. It's been a journey and I hate it. If there is ever a vlog this long, I'm doing it in segments across multiple days because I'm exhausted by this much wealth and inanity. Time to go touch grass, start dinner, wash my vegetables before I do so. You know. The little things.

(Pt. 1) An additional thanks to u/An_Insufferable_NEWT for letting me borrow one of his characters.
...And now for the conclusion.
​
= = =
​
Evelra swore. They had come here to uplift humanity from barbarism, not let the powers that be enable humanity’s worst elements while the selfsame Noble cunts indulged in their own pubescent masturbatory power fantasies. Fuck this. She thought to herself with a growl and flicked her comms channel to all units.
​
“All forces, this is Captain Evelra. The goddess-damned governess’s private militia have opened fire on the civies. Arrest those brother-fucking [bastards] on sight before they can fuck this mess up any further!” She barked over the comms, a bit of local English slipping into her words. She couldn’t call them stiffs; the latter had more class than this.
​
“Capt, we’ve got three APCs in militia markings barreling down the road in front of the Governess’s mansion from the west. ETA 30 seconds. This is about to get messy.” Prex’s voice cut in with a false calm lent by years of experience.
​
Evelra could feel the material of her suit creak as her hands briefly tightened into hardened fists. “All west side Pods converge on Pod 7, support Lieutenant Eleynor. Eastern Pods, evac the civies. And Prex? Keep the late arrivals occupied. Don’t let these fuckers get another shot off.” She growled, her Second giving a brief click of acknowledgement over the comms before switching channels to give orders of her own.
​
Turning back to face Isaiah, Evelra reached a hand down to grab the elder by his medical exoskeleton and hoisted him to his feet. “Looks like the Governess ran out of patience. Get your people out of here, we’ll deal with this.” She explained brusquely, jabbing one finger towards the eastern side of the boulevard. She could apologize for womanhandling him later, right now every second counted.
​
The moment she was sure he had his feet under him, the marine captain let go and tried to move on Eleynor’s position with all due haste. “Out of the way! MOVE!” Evelra shouted as she strode forward, the sea of humans doing their best to get out of her path. Already, people were starting to scramble as panic spread like wildfire. She could hear the cries of terror and confusion all around her; shouted orders from the protest organizers and her own marines were almost inaudible against the din as they tried to control the chaos.
​
As she neared pod 7’s position, a horrifying scene unfolded before her. In the shadow of the buildings, at least a dozen of the protesters were currently on fire. Harsh yellow and orange flames rose from the flailing figures to form hazy gray clouds of smoke that hung heavy in the air. Even more humans were covered in burn marks and charred clothes. One woman just sat there, trembling and numb from shock as she stared her bloody arm; the melted remains of her synthetic shirt peeling away with boiled skin. Amidst the chaos, the other protesters were doing everything from trying to help the wounded and burning to running in panic and terror; the latter creating a solid wave of bodies in front of Evelra as they stumbled over one another to flee the danger.
​
From out of sight, she saw one of the Governess’ militia-kitted thugs go flying; only to watch them get back up and charge in to fight whom Evelra assumed to be Pod 7. Shil’vati might be stronger, but when equally equipped, outnumbered and against human reflexes she knew that fight wasn’t going to end well for her girls if the rest of the western Pods didn’t reach them soon. Then, one of the militiamen stepped forward towards the crowd.
​
As he strode boldly through the mayhem, Evelra could only watch while one of the protesters tried to confront him; the tide of humans preventing the marine captain from intervening. Inaudible words were exchanged, the protester shouting something as they gesticulated wildly. The Governess’ thug merely responded with two swift strikes of his rifle butt, first to the gut, then to the back of the head, the other man dropping like an anchor. In the distance, out of the corner of her eye, she numbly noted that the rest of the governess’ thugs had arrived and were using their APCs as cover between them and the Pods under Prexith’s command.
​
Evelra felt her gut sink as the militiamen shouldered his rifle once more, stepping out of the building’s shadow to take aim at the crowd. “EVERYBODY DOWN!” The marine captain roared as she planted her feet and pulled her sidearm in one smooth, practiced motion. Drawing a bead on the Governess’ thug, the panicked crowd tried to clear out of her way; but there were just too many people. She wasn’t going to make it in time. No, no more. Not-
​
The militiaman’s head disappeared.
​
A split second later, the now infamously familiar thunderous crack and echoing roar of a large bore human chemical ballistic rifle rolled over them as the corpse spasmed on its feet; a shockwave visibly rippling through the suit it was wearing. “SNIPER!” Somebody bellowed. It might have been her, but in that moment she honestly couldn’t tell. As the headless body crumpled to the ground in a fountain of red, the same gun roared out again… and again. In the distance she could see two sudden sprays of red splatter up the sides of the Militia APCs, one right after the other.
​
The echoes of gunfire galvanized the crowd into a further panic, a stampede of human protesters slamming into Evelra in their attempt to get away from the violence. For a moment, the marine captain thought she was going to get dragged under by the wave, but then they rolled past her, leaving her staggering into the clear. With the screaming of the crowd now behind her and her ears still ringing from gunshots it was oddly quiet once more, save for the groans of the wounded.
​
Not letting herself fall into the lull, Evelra kept moving forward only to nearly gag at the smell as she approached the corner of the building. Like a Blue Grail left in the summer sun for a week, the air was heavy with a putrid smoke, reminiscent of the scent of death itself. Quickly sealing her helmet, she took a shuddering breath of fresh air before looking up just in time to see a pair of the Governess’s thugs get bodily tackled into the pavement by Eleynor. The rest of treasonous Militia were either surrendering or trying to run like the Deep-Minder itself was behind them as more Marine Pods came charging around nearby street corners.
​
Watching the last treasonous bastards eat pavement, the marine captain strode up to the Militaman’s corpse and picked up his blood-stained rifle. Quickly turning the weapon over in her hands, Evelra took one look at its settings and nearly threw the gun away in disgust. Medium power, maximum dispersal. Against even the most basic of modern armor, such settings would be practically useless; but would make for a decent, if imprecise, fire starter. Which is exactly what they’d done. Of course, leave it to the humans to figure out how to turn the most basic of weapons into a tool of terror. She thought bitterly, adjusting the beam spread back to something more logical before strapping it’s sling to her harness.
​
Now properly armed for anything else the Deep-Minder might decide to throw at her, Evelra flicked open her wrist-mounted omnipad, the integrated AR display in her helmet seamlessly linking to it. A couple quick taps later and the captain had an outgoing call. As the phone line rang in her ear, she tried not to tap her foot, every second feeling like ten.
​
“911, what’s your emer-”
​
Before the woman on the other end could even finish her sentence, Evelra interrupted her. “This is Captain Evelra of the Imperial Marines, 4032nd company. We have at least a dozen, I repeat, at least a dozen critically injured burn victims at the corner of 3rd and Main. I need emergency Medivac for the critically wounded.” She barked into the mic.
​
There was a momentary pause on the other end accompanied by the sounds of a physical keyboard before shortly being followed by a muffled “Fuck.” Evelra shifted impatiently as one second dragged into the next. “Is something the matter?” The marine growled.
​
“Ahh… No ma’am.” The other woman’s voice was uncertain for a moment before steadying back out. “Just bypassing some red tape. Consider it done. ETA, ten minutes.” She said with a thermocast firmness. Evelra briefly considered hounding the woman for what exactly she meant by ‘red tape’ but decided against it. She sounded confident in her statement and ultimately there was nothing else Evelra could do about it at the moment.
​
“I’m going to hold you to that.” The marine captain growled before hanging up. One down. Looking up, she glanced over the growing crowd of Marines. Already, some of her girls were pulling out medkits and burn patches as they moved to help injured protesters; her AR display highlighting their ranks and names.
​
“Sergeant Quixana!” Evelra barked over the din.
“Ma’am!” The medic shouted back over one shoulder, barely looking up from the burn victim she was currently treating.
​
“We have civilian medivac for the burn victims inbound, ETA ten minutes. You have command over Triage. Anyone in critical condition they can’t airlift out is your responsibility. Clear?” She commanded, watching the Governess’s thugs like a shark as her girls disarmed and secured them. At this point, Evelra honestly didn’t expect them to try anything else; but as always with humans, one never quite knew what they’d do.
​
“Affirmative!” Quixana replied. Taking a moment to ensure the woman she was treating wasn’t in immediate danger, the medic ushered another marine over to help and began shouting orders of her own. Two down. Satisfied that the situation was under control, Evelra keyed into her comms again.
​
“Prex, Sitrep.”
​
A couple moments later, the other woman’s voice came to life in her earpiece. “After the gunshots went off, the little fuckers started stumbling over each other to try and surrender. What in the Deep just happened?” Despite the horror around her, Evelra gave a short, mirthless chuckle. “Seems a certain… somebody decided to more than just ‘play’ at being security. And seeing as I still have my head, they’re not a complete bloodthirsty idiot.”
​
“You certain it’s… them?” Prex asked, a hint of dubiousness in her voice.
​
“Given that there’s one of the Governess’s thugs sans their head while I still have mine? Yeah. About as certain as I can be. Fits what little we know about their M.O.” Evelra shot back.
​
There were several long moments of silence before her subordinate let out a low whistle. “Make that three. I’ve got two more over here. Definitely explains why the little Turoxes were so fucking panicky. What now Cap?”
​
“How many of your Pods do you need to secure your prisoners?” Evelra asked.
​
“Less than half. They’re more terrified of stepping back into the sights of that sniper than anything else, I think.” Prexith snorted, a dry hint of amusement in her voice.
​
“Take as many as you think you can spare from guard duty and go arrest the Governess. Alive. Though preventing her from causing any more damage takes priority. Clear?” Evelra’s voice was firm, the unspoken message clear. Try not to kill the bitch if at all possible, but ice her tits if she’s going to make this a problem.
​
“As a laser lens. Prex out.”
​
When the line clicked dead, the marine captain took a deep breath and tried to center herself. Now came the hard part.
​
Politics.
​
= = =
​
Evelra stopped outside the governess’ office and took a deep breath to steady herself. Within two hours of getting the fiasco under control, one Agent Lohun had arrived… along with three Pods of Death’s Head Commandos. Upon giving him her report, the petite male had thanked her and politely requested that she remain in her quarters until further notice. The marine captain had known better than to try and test those particular boundaries. It was only now, three days later, that she’d been summoned once more.
​
In spite of the not quite lockdown state that was currently in effect, word still traveled. Her orders to arrest the governess had been upheld and the bitch had been transferred out to some Interior facility goddess knows where. A minimal local press release had happened; condemning the governess’ actions and requesting cooperation with the authorities as they investigated the incident. Things were still tense, but the daily gathering of thousands of protesters had dwindled to a hundred or so of the most stubborn.
​
With a little shake to clear her head, Evelra opened the office door and stepped through. Behind the governess’ massive polished wooden desk sat Lohun. The petite male was almost comically out of place; his simple take on the Interior uniform clashing with the room’s ostentatious opulence. Rumor had it that since he was investigating the room’s previous owner, he’d simply co-opted the office rather than bother to set up another workspace elsewhere. Looking up from his omnipad and what she assumed was a proverbial mountain of reports, the Agent gave her a tired nod of acknowledgement.
​
“Good. You’re here. Please, take a seat Captain D’saari.” He said, gesturing to a much simpler chair in front of the desk. Wincing internally at his usage of her long-abandoned family name, Evelra complied and settled into the offered seat in silence as she tried not to look at the silent woman in the corner with the three-eyed skull mask. Lohun gave his omnipad one last glance before setting it down and letting his carefully focused gaze settle onto her.
​
“Six deaths.” He stated simply, letting the fact hang there in the air for a moment. “Only half of which were not the aggressors in this situation. That could have gone much, much worse. A job well done Captain.”
​
Evelra gave an awkward shrug. “Without the… unsolicited fire support it would have been. My girls just did the mop up.”
​
Lohun hummed, double-checking something on his omni-pad. “About that. The audio logs between you and your second indicated a certain familiarity with this assumed insurgent sniper, yet I can’t find any combat reports that you two share featuring any opposition with this kind of firepower. Care to explain what I’m missing here?” He asked calmly, a polite smile on his face; the Commando in the corner shifting her weight slightly.
​
Right. That.
​
A bundle of nerves did somersaults in her gut as she felt her throat go dry. “Ah, yeah. About… one local year ago we had a human male turn up dead. Clear signs of abuse. Autopsy report indicated he had both Nightfel and Viagra in him at the time of death. I had my suspicions, but the ensuing investigation never turned up any evidence.” The marine captain grimaced, scratching at one tusk with her thumbnail. “A few months later, A pod on a routine patrol got ambushed. All three of their heads were blown clean off. Big gun. I think you can guess what we found when we cleared out their belongings.”
​
“Nightfel and Viagra.” Lohun said cooly, his face grim.
​
Evelra nodded. “Yeah. The Governess covered the whole thing up in the name of keeping the peace. Released a statement that the young man’s murderers had been found and executed while redacting my report.”
​
Briefly adding a few notes on his omnipad, the Interior agent gave her a careful look. “Why didn’t you report this breach of protocol to the Interior?”
​
“Because it worked.” Evelra sighed. “Approval ratings ticked up, minor incidents went down. Didn’t hurt that I also publicly doubled down on mandatory etiquette training for my girls. I’ve seen enough of the Empire’s bureaucracy over the years to know better than to stir up the seabed over something like this. Justice was served, even if it was in a less than ideal manner.”
​
“And what about the young man’s family?” Lohun pressed, his gaze tightening.
​
Coughing slightly to clear her throat, Evelra looked away as she felt her cheeks heat up. “Officially, they were given the same story as everyone else. However, I… I may have taken one Shel to visit their home and correct that mistake. They deserved to know.” She finished quietly, leaning forward in her chair to look down at the ground. Anywhere but at the male in front of her.
​
After several agonizingly long moments of silence, the marine captain glanced up to catch sight of Lohun slowly starting to nod. “Good. That’s good. We can work with that.”
​
At his words, Evelra let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. In response, a ghost of a smile pulled at the edges of Lohun’s face. “Yes, you can relax now. You’re here to help me fix this mess, not to have your tits burned off.”
​
Evelra bobbed her head, eager for the change of topic. “Gladly. What can I do?”
​
The ghost of a smile on Lohun’s face broadened slightly, hovering on the edge of a smirk. “Simple. You will be taking over as the Local Governess.” The marine captain felt her jaw go slack as the Interior Agent calmly continued along as if he was discussing something as simple as dinner reservations.
​
“Of course, there’s a plethora of steps to take along the way. In recognition of your service to the citizens of the empire, you will be promoted two ranks to Lieutenant Colonel and discharged with full honors. We’ll then need somebody to fill your current position. One Sergeant… Prexith Van’sar, your current second, should do nicely. With her service record she's certainly earned herself a commission, I think.” He scoffed in amusement, shaking his head at some distant thought. “Deep, her accolades are almost as impressive as her penchant for avoiding promotions. It’s my hope though that continuing to work with you should be enough to dissuade her of that particular tendency.”
​
Lohun finally took a proper pause, as if he was only now taking in her shock. “Is something the matter Captain D’saari?”
​
As Evelra heard him refer to her by her family name again something inside her broke. The sheer absurdity of it all was just too much, and a noise of amusement escaped her mouth. It started as a snort, before growing into a full-on barks of laughter as Evelra shook her head in disbelief. “I- I’m sorry, but you want me, the legally disowned, stiff-sprung cunt to be a local governess? Goddess, you all must be getting desperate if you’re willing to dredge up the cast-off chaff of the noble houses.”
​
Lohun merely quirked an eyebrow at her before briefly consulting his omnipad again. “So that explains the three separate attempts to change your last name… aannd probably why all three of them never went anywhere.” He let out a small humph as a flicker of distaste crossed his face. “An easy enough fix.”
​
“Goddess. You’re serious.” Evelra muttered as she slumped back in her chair, trying to process the implications. “Ok. Why me?” She asked, throwing a hand wide.
​
The Interior agent’s gaze focused in on her as he leaned forward onto the table, steepling his fingers. “Because Captain, over the past three days I have spent an exhaustive amount of time interviewing and interrogating people to get a better handle on what happened and why. Your name came up just as, if not, more frequently than the governess’s; and rarely in a negative light. From both Shil’vati and humans. Deep, even some of the ones that looked like they wanted to spit in my face refused to speak ill of you. Do you understand how goddess-damned rare that is?” Lohun finished, his voice raised and projected, not quite reaching an actual shout.
​
Evelra was sorely tempted to argue. She’d spent most of her adult life trying to get as far away from the nobility and politics as she could, as nothing good in her life had ever come from them. Then her conversation with Isaiah flashed through her mind. Fuck. The marine captain let out a disgusted groan of frustration as she rubbed her face with one hand. “Alright… but how?” She asked, her brain fervently grasping at straws. “I mean no offense, but… isn’t that a little outside your authority as an Interior Agent?..”
​
Once more, a slight grin pulled at the agent’s face. “Ah yes. Perhaps some reintroductions are in order. Independent Investigator Lohun Vey’elquiese of the Empress’s own and an Agent of her Interior. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Lady Evelra?..” He said smoothly, letting the end of his sentence hang as he leaned across the massive table to offer a petite fist.
​
Oh.
​
For one long moment, Evelra’s brain short-circuited. The petite little male sitting across from her answered to only perhaps a dozen people in the entire Empire, and had the authority to make individuals such as system governesses simply disappear. Of course, abuse of said power carried the death penalty, not that one of the Empress’s own handpicked agents were likely to make that kind of mistake. Suddenly, the three pods of Death’s Head Commandos accompanying him made much, much more sense.
​
After a couple seconds of slight panic, her brain caught back up and she processed the question he’d carefully interwoven into his reintroduction. Taking a moment to think, she settled on her answer. With a slight smile of her own, she reached out her hand to tap her knuckles to his.
​
“Van’sar. Evelra Van’sar. And the pleasure is all mine Investigator.”

--- Table of Contents ---
Summer 4984, 13 Doumoth
“Ugh! I hate this!” Daisy whined loudly, letting her head fall back to stare at the ceiling.
“Almost done…” Rerves said to reassure her, though he lacked his usual smile.
Ania picked up the last piece of armor, a steel vambrace, and began polishing with a groan to match Daisy’s, “When we aren’t cleaning, we're polishing, when we aren’t polishing, we're cleaning. How is this Paladin training?”
“If I wanted to be a servant, I would've joined their guild…” Thom’s small voice chimed in.
Shon said nothing. The five Squires, Shon, Daisy, Thom, Rerves, and Ania, sat under a shade in the Temple courtyard, polishing the knights' spare armor for the hundredth time. The sun beat down mere feet away, reflecting off the finished pieces as the shadow of their shade crept closer and closer, the sun climbing towards noon. The yard was mostly clear, the Paladins not on duty retreating into the cool stone fortress while those on duty only occasionally coming to check on the Squires' progress.
Ania had the right of it. Ever since they'd moved into the Temple proper and became official Squires, the five of them had done nothing but clean, polish, and memorize armor and weapon vocabulary. And complain… the others always complained. Shon just sighed as the four others continued to gripe. There was no point in it, the work needed to be done, and they were the ones assigned to do it. It didn’t matter how annoying or monotonous it might be.
Sometimes the younger Paladins would join them in polishing, caring for their own armor while the Squires worked on the spare pieces. The spares were used mainly by the enlisted, and only if they hadn’t finished buying their own sets yet. Occasionally a Paladin would check out a set to practice with. Although most of them had a preferred style, they needed to stay proficient with all types. At least that meant only half of the pieces the Squires had to clean were still polished from the day before. If the armor was never used, it really would be a useless task, instead of half useless as it seemed now.
The Paladins never complained…
The Squires hadn’t started out tired and annoyed. Daisy and Shon had been joined after their first week by Thom and Rerves, who both came from the capital city. They'd been friends growing up, Rerves was a noble, and Thom's family worked as their personal stewards, one step up from servants. A week after that, Ania arrived from a small village in the south. Only having known one Paladin and having never seen a proper Temple before, she'd been in awe of the fortress Temple of the city for at least a month. But then the excitement had given way to frustration, and -for Shon at least- boredom. And so the others had started complaining.
Their relationship with each other had started out warm enough. They stayed up late into the night, sharing their histories and dreams of their future as full Paladins. Shon joined them when prompted but mostly preferred to listen. He didn’t think he had any stories worth sharing, though they had bombarded him with questions after Veon-Zih’s first training visit. Just like everyone else, they didn’t seem to know how to deal with Shon’s quiet nature. But unlike everyone else, they hadn’t pulled away and stopped talking to him altogether. Except when they complained. Shon never complained. He didn’t see the point. When asked, he would say that they needed to follow orders. So they'd stopped asking him.
Shon held his last piece of steel plate carefully by the leather straps, wiping the last bit of polish off with a clean rag. He could see his reflection distorted by the curves and dings, and wondered if he could manage to draw the changes accurately when given a chance. The tinking of metal on metal sounded in the distance, and the Squires' heads shot up, followed by their bodies as they scrambled to their feet to salute the woman approaching.
General Rasnah was resplendent as always in her uniform, the chains of office clinking on her shoulders. She walked towards the Squires with her head held high and her hands clasped behind her back. With her was Master Veon-Zih and Shon felt his spirits rise just a little higher.
“At ease, Squires.” Sir Rasnah said as she drew to a stop just outside their shade. She waited until they'd taken the formal 'at ease' position, legs shoulder-width apart and hands clasped behind their back, “Report.”
Rerves took charge, as usual, “Sir, we're nearly done, Sir.”
“Just one piece left, Sir,” Ania added, then blushed furiously as she usually did whenever addressing a high-ranking officer.
Sir Rasnah nodded, then glanced to the sky. She then looked to Veon-Zih, who smiled and shrugged. Her lips turned up on half her face in what could almost be called a grin before she cleared it, serious again as she addressed the Squires, “You may have the afternoon off. Report to the kitchens and evening duties before sixth bell.”
“Sir, yes, Sir!” the Squires spoke in unison, Shon’s four fellows grinning broadly and sneaking happy glances at one another.
They held their positions until Sir Rasnah turned away, walking back to the Temple proper and leaving them to their freedom. Veon-Zih remained behind, smiling warmly at them and addressing Shon, “Lunch? I found a fine eatery a few blocks away.”
Shon nodded, finally smiling with the rest, “And practice?” he asked.
“After food,” Veon-Zih answered, stepping aside and gesturing towards the gates. Shon rushed to help the others put the clean and polished armor away, then jogged to Veon-Zih before falling into step with him as they left the Temple.
Veon-Zih waited until they were well clear of the gates before asking, “So what do you think of your fellow Squires?”
Shon sighed in answer, which made Veon-Zih chuckle for some reason. But the sigh hadn’t really answered the question, so Shon said, “They complain a lot.” he probably could have, and should have, come up with something nicer to say. But after hours of hearing them gripe while they worked, it was the only thing on Shon’s mind.
“There's nothing wrong with complaining, you know.” Veon-Zih mused. Shon merely shook his head. The knights never complained; he'd been watching them. If there was a job that needed to be done, they would do it. His fellow Squires seemed to complain before, during, and after every unpleasant assignment. Though never in front of the Paladin giving it.
“Do you honestly think the knights like polishing armor? Do you like polishing that much? Maybe you should've come to the Monastery after all. We don’t wear armor, but we have many fine statues that all need to be polished every day. Every little nook and cranny scrubbed clean and shining.”
He glanced at Shon with a grin, then leaned over to whisper, “They hate it too, but just like your fellows won’t complain in front of them, they won’t complain in front of you.”
“It needs to be done…” Shon tried to argue, though it sounded hollow considering his own, though silent, annoyance.
“A perfect excuse,” Veon-Zih stated, turning sharply down a side road, so Shon had to jog to keep up, “There are many reasons spare armor needs to be polished. The most obvious is that it's needed to stay in good repair. The task is assigned to Squires because it gets you intimately familiar with armor beyond just naming the parts. And because no one else wants to do it.
“That doesn’t mean we should be complaining about it…”
“Not in front of the officers, no. But amongst each other? Why not?”
Shon furrowed his brow but didn’t have an answer. Veon-Zih gave him one, “Joint misery creates companionship. Even if you have nothing else in common, everyone knows you all hate polishing already clean armor. Right now, I bet your fellow Squires are scratching their heads, wondering if you do actually enjoy the task. Some might even be wondering if they're worthy of being Squires. Since they complain, and you don’t.”
Shon’s steps faltered. Would they really think he was more worthy than them? For something so trivial as chores? He had to rush to catch up and argued, “But there's no point in complaining. We have to do it anyway.”
Veon-Zih sighed and stopped walking. He waited for Shon to turn to him then said, “But my statement still stands. Joint misery creates companionship. Your fellows take a risk in voicing their complaints to you, hoping that they're not alone in their opinions. What if they're the only ones who hate it? What if that really does mean they aren’t meant for the Temple? Just because they can channel divine magic doesn’t mean Hengist will choose them.”
Shon let himself ponder that for a while. The other Squires always seemed so sure of themselves, so excited to begin real training. Did they really have doubts and fears the same as he did? And what did that say about his assumptions? That they would complain and the knights didn’t? Was he actually judging his fellows as unworthy without realizing it?
“The Paladins really complained when they were Squires too?” he asked.
“I guarantee it.” Veon-Zih answered and started walking again, “I know I did, and all the other Monks in my class too.” he chuckled, “Sometimes routines like cleaning and polishing can be meditative. You can let your mind wander while your hands work through the familiar motions. But before you get to that point, or if you would rather be doing something of your choosing, then it's nothing but monotonous work. Necessary work, but still work.”
Following Veon-Zih around another corner, Shon pondered his Master’s words. They got all the way to the little eatery the Monk had been looking for, even took their seats, and gave their orders before Shon spoke again.
“I hate platemail the most…” he said. Veon-Zih arched an eyebrow at him, and he continued, “It’s bulky, and there's just so much of it. Then as soon as you're done, someone moves it aside and gets fingerprints on it again. Chainmail isn’t much better. You can’t see the fingerprints, but it’s hard to get the oil between the links. And yet water obviously has no problem with it because that’s where all the rust is.”
Veon-Zih laughed boisterously, throwing his head back and startling those at the closest table, “I hated the creases in the palms of the statues the most,” Veon-Zih held up his hand, his forefinger and thumb forming a circle, the other fingers extended, “how can so much dust cake itself in such a small space in only a day?” he complained, dropping his hand and shaking his head.
The waitress brought them their stew and drinks, and Shon started eating while Veon-Zih thanked her. Picking up his spoon, the Monk paused as he dipped it into his bowl, musing, “I wonder which parts your fellow Squires dislike the most?” Shon didn’t know, but he wanted to. Would they agree with him that the plate was the most frustrating? Daisy seemed to groan loudest at the leather, but their complaining always seemed to be general moans at the work as a whole…
“Maybe I’ll ask,” Shon mumbled, embarrassed for some reason.
“Or,” Veon-Zih took his first bite, then pointed at Shon with his spoon, “you could just tell them your least favorite, and they will open up and share their own.”
That’s what they expected of him, wasn’t it? They expected him to join in the conversation, not just answer questions… Shon could only nod.
***
Shon had grown so much. It was difficult for Veon-Zih to watch him without smiling. Only a head shorter than his Master, Veon-Zih could still see the ten-year-old oddity he'd spied upon almost four years ago in the church courtyard. And yet, he had grown so much. Veon-Zih wondered if anyone else could see it.
They practiced in one of the parks in the noble’s district. Veon-Zih thought it was important that Shon get out of Temple whenever possible, that he see the city and its people, to remember what he was training for, and why he wanted to fight. Shon was more like Veon-Zih, and his order of Monks than the boy would ever know. Or admit. He strove for perfection. Every punch, kick, and kata they worked through needed to go exactly right, or he would do it again. Like many Monks, Shon found true enjoyment in the process of working and growing better than his past self. But he was also different in a critical way. Shon wanted to use his strength. Wanted to protect people, fight evil. Many Monks never left the Monastery. A single Grandmaster could easily fell a small raiding force alone. Yet, so many chose not to fight outside their sparring rings and training.
Even Veon-Zih hadn’t left the Monastery because he wanted to help those locked outside its walls. He'd left because he believed he couldn't attain the perfection he strove for inside them. He'd wanted to be tested by the world, to rise to the challenges life presented and overcome them with his discipline and practice. Along the way, he'd learned to be more like Shon was naturally. He'd made friends from other orders, and saved countless non-combatants. Only after seeing the results of his fights, the grateful families reunited, had he realized the moral folly in his fellows and in himself.
They practiced and even sparred until well after fifth bell. The display at first earned them a few disapproving glares from the nobles and servants passing the park. Then they'd actually attracted a few spectators, who clapped as though watching a show. Shon blushed furiously at this, his pale cheeks growing pink as he tilted his head down, trying to let what was left of his now short hair slip down to hide his face. Yet, he never lost step or stopped the training. Veon-Zih had barely resisted laughing, though if more at the foolish watchers or his embarrassed student, he wasn’t sure.
Veon-Zih finally called their training to a halt, and Shon glowered at him. The boy had nearly gotten in his first solid hit in their sparring and was obviously reluctant to stop after making such progress. “It’s nearly time for you to get back, and Sir Rasnah will not accept me as an excuse for tardiness.” Shon’s eyes went wide, and fear replaced the look of frustration on his face. He ran his fingers through his hair, looking up at the sky to try and gauge the hour.
Veon-Zih chuckled, “I’ll race you back.” he said, a hint of mischief seeping through his voice. Shon arched an eyebrow and Veon-Zih could practically hear his thoughts. Run? Through town? You must be joking. “There's no law against running,” Veon-Zih argued with the boy’s expression, “Every moment offers us an opportunity to train. We're late, so this is the perfect opportunity to test our speed against time and run.”
Shon alternated his arched brow to the other side, looking down the road then back to Veon-Zih before confirming, “A race?”
In answer, Veon-Zih ran. He sprinted past Shon -though not at his full speed- before slowing down just enough to keep things fair. Shon bolted after him. Nobles, servants, and even a few guards gasped and called out in indignation as Veon-Zih and Shon swerved around them on the wide roads of the nobles' quarter. They were forced to slow when they reached the more densely packed streets in the city center. Shon was careful to run around the people doing their shopping but kept his eyes set ahead, planning his route and scaring those who noticed him out of the way with his intense blue stare. Veon-Zih was much more confident in his ability not to hit people and so brushed much closer, never quite knocking into them but often brushing their clothes as he passed.
Ahead a cart laden with crates and barrels ambled across the thoroughfare, and Shon slowed to a jog, trying to run around it. Veon-Zih lept, landing on his hands on the cart and propelling himself up and over before hitting the ground again and continuing the race. He heard the merchant curse and the bystanders gasp in surprise but was more amused at the growl of frustration that came from his student, who put on an extra burst of speed to try and catch up. Veon-Zih was half tempted to let him and half tempted to sprint all out and leave the boy in his dust. He chose to do neither and just laughed, continuing at the pace he'd set and soon coming into view of the Temple gates.
The Paladins on watch saw him coming and exchanged confused and nervous glances, drawing their swords but not barring his path. Veon-Zih didn’t slow his run until he reached the knights. Turning to the side and planting his feet, he slid past them on the cobblestones. Turning back as he slid to a stop, he found one of the Paladins facing him as though ready to fight and the other facing out as though looking for whatever force had sent Veon-Zih sprinting for the Temple.
Shon slowed to a jog and stopped before the knight facing him, breathing hard. “What’s going on? Squire report.” the Paladin demanded, still holding his sword at the ready.
Shon had to take a moment to catch his breath but eventually managed to gasp out, “Race…” before looking absolutely horrified at what he'd just done and said. “Sir…” he added quietly as if that might somehow make his unconventional arrival more acceptable.
“And you managed to keep up with him?” Sir Rasnah appeared from beyond the gate, arching a steely eyebrow and drawing sharp salutes from the Paladin guards who finally sheathed their swords.
“I went easy on him,” Veon-Zih assured her, earning a glare from Shon, who passed through the gates, still breathing deeply but no longer gasping for air. Veon-Zih hadn’t even broken a sweat.
Rasnah looked between the Master and student, finally settling on Shon, “Oh, don’t look at him like that, Squire. Master Veon-Zih could beat a riderless horse in a foot race.” which drew a befuddled look from Shon and a laugh from Veon-Zih.
“General Rasnah, Sir,” another man ran towards the gates wearing the uniform of an enlisted. A messenger from the city gates.
“It seems today is a good day for running,” Veon-Zih quipped as the guards allowed the man to pass and give his report.
“A wyvern has been spotted over the woods near Lakeland,”
Sir Rasnah didn’t respond right away. She narrowed her eyes at the messenger and spoke to Shon, “You have duties, Squire, hop to it.”
Shon saluted, though Rasnah still wasn’t looking at him. He glanced at Veon-Zih curiously, then turned to follow the orders.
Veon-Zih hesitated but decided to follow Shon. If he was needed, Rasnah would let him know.
“A wyvern?” Shon asked in a whisper.
“An abomination,” Veon-Zih explained, “Monstrous beasts with a body as large as a wagon, not including the tail. They fly like birds and will hunt anything that strays into their territory, including humans.”
Shon’s brow furrowed, and Veon-Zih patted him on the shoulder, “It'll be alright. They rarely attack settlements unless they're starving.” Which was good because a single wyvern could destroy a small town.
“What will the Temple do?” Shon asked as they reached the back door to the kitchens.
“That depends… most likely, they'll send a group to the village and watch the skies.”
“They won’t hunt it?”
“Maybe, and maybe not. Wyverns are dangerous enough that it’s a real risk to hunt one, but they also can’t be allowed to harm nearby towns. The Temple of Saint Giorgos will want it destroyed, but Sir Rasnah won’t needlessly risk her men if it isn’t necessary.” Veon-Zih explained.
Shon thought for a moment, then asked, “Have you ever fought a wyvern?”
Veon-Zih tried to make his smile reassuring, "Twice. Though I would rather not try a third time if it can be avoided.”
***
“Red, what're you doing?” Ran asked.
She rolled Her eyes, focusing again on what She was doing and not bothering to answer him. Her fingers ached, but She worked them into the cracks between the stones of the tower wall, shifting Her weight from one hand to the other and searching out the next handhold.
Brom laughed, and She heard the slap and woosh of breath as he pat Ran on the back hard enough to knock the air from the thinner man’s lungs, “Can’t you tell? She’s climbing!”
“Sort of…” Ran mumbled.
She wasn’t climbing up the wall, as much as She wanted to. Instead, She was up only about a foot off the ground and working Her way sideways around the tower. “Afraid of falling, Red?” Ran asked instead. That question was even more stupid than the last, and She arched Her neck back, holding tight to the wall and looking at him upside down.
“Really?” She asked in response to his denseness. He should know She wouldn’t be afraid of falling. She had fallen many times when She'd braved climbing the trees around the perimeter. Even broke Her arm once, and that hadn’t stopped Her from trying again with the splint still on. But that was when they used to let Her out more often, about once every other week. No, the thing that kept Her from climbing up the wall was the same thing that had stopped Her climbing trees. The same thing that stopped Her running around the tower at top speed while Brom or Ran kept time and She tried to beat Her record. And the same thing that kept Her from even crossing the tree line to play pretend in the woods.
Ran had the decency to look embarrassed, realizing his mistake eventually. There was only one thing that ever stopped Her from doing what She wanted, and even that often took multiple ‘lessons’ each time. Morndancer had grown increasingly erratic and more often violent of late. He would mutter to himself in draconic then give opposite orders to the journeymen and apprentices in common. Though everyone in the tower spoke both languages. He would lock himself in his room for days and hadn’t been back to visit his family or the Mages Guild in weeks. Shaloon would cover for him, but she wasn’t much better, cutting holes in reality and staring into the outer plains for hours on end, whispering. Half her words in draconic and the other half in common, mixing the languages in the same sentence.
Brom and Ran had refused to talk to Her about it, but She had listened at Her door when they thought She was sleeping. The Archmages were going mad. The eventual cost of power, they said. Though neither seemed upset that the same would happen to them eventually. Perhaps their lack of concern was the first sign they'd already started.
She continued Her climb, putting Her worries about Brom and Ran’s sanity out of Her mind for the time being. She would have plenty of time to stew about it when She was locked in Her room. For now, She wanted to enjoy being outside in the brief summer warmth.
A burst of sudden wind from above set Her hair whipping about Her face and nearly cost Her grip on the stones. Squeezing Her eyes shut, She tried to shake Her hair back, blowing at the strands against another huge gust before something heavy shook the ground behind her. She let Her head fall back again, so Her hair fell away from Her face, and She could see what had come upside down. The sight caused Her to fall off the wall.
Landing hard on Her backside, She scrambled to Her feet in a mix of awe and horror. A monster large enough to fill Her entire room and then some, stood in the clearing around the tower. It had a long sinuous neck and dull brown scales. It walked on great taloned legs in the back and the joints of its leathery wings in the front. It snapped at Archmage Shaloon as she jumped from its neck to the ground, its teeth as long as daggers and looking just as sharp. It didn’t bite the Archmage, who ignored it as she approached the journeymen.
“What are you three doing out here?” she demanded, mixing draconic with common and glaring at the two men who, for some reason, looked ashamed despite the permission they'd gotten to be out today.
The Firewyrm ignored the question, asking one of Her own, “What is that?” She pointed at the monster, not sure if She felt sad or disgusted at the sight of it. Both seemed odd emotions to have at the sight of a beast that could eat Her in two bites.
Fingers snapped, and She flinched, reaching for Her collar. The monster let out a strangled roar, thrashing its head wildly, its own copper collar shimmering with light and magic. “Another failure of our predecessors, thousands of years ago.” Morndancer exited the tower, his robes billowing around him.
Another snap, and the Firewyrm flinched again. But Shaloon just snorted, sneering at the other Archmage after stopping his torment of her mount, “The north-western Talon was gracious enough to lend us this sample after years of training. It should come in handy with the local draken who worship its kind as gods.” the beast snarled at the humans just out of reach but didn’t step any closer, digging its talons deeper into the ground and hissing, “It was a great success after the slaying. We’ve only had one greater.” she glanced at the Firewyrm who tilted Her head at the two of them, curious for more but sure they wouldn’t give it to Her.
Archmage Morndancer dismissed the defense of the monster’s existence with a snort, “And yet we are still facing the same problems as those before us. What information do you have?”
“A storm hit out at sea, and there are signs of another possibly brewing in Halakon.”
Ran swallowed nervously, and Brom stuttered, “Should we…?”
“No.” Morndancer answered the unfinished question, “There is only one thing that can stop these storms, and we are the only ones willing to make the sacrifices to do it.” he turned away from them, returning to the tower door before glancing over his shoulder, “Get back inside, we need more samples if we are to make up for our own successful failure.”
***
“Saint Giorgos says the wyverns are the last vestiges of the dragon’s evil in the skies…” Sir Rasnah sipped her tea thoughtfully.
Father Branston snorted, “Yes yes, and drakes are their evil on land, and leviathans their evil at sea. They are beasts, Rasnah, as old as memory.”
“Branston's right,” Veon-Zih shrugged, rolling his teacup between his hands, “They're terrible beasts with some magic to them, but they're no more intelligent than a drakwalf or horse.”
They sat together in Father Branston’s office to enjoy warm tea and a colorful sunset through his massive windows. But none of them could really relax with the news of a wyvern flying around the woods to the north. Just to the west of Hamerfoss.
“They've been known to hunt for sport,” Rasnah reminded them, her face pained at the memory.
“So do house cats.”
“House cats don’t pick off entire barbarian tribes over the course of a week.”
"I'm sure they would if they could,"
Branston sighed, reaching for his teapot and pouring himself another cup, “What will you do? If you need healers, I have a few skilled enough to go.”
Rasnah sighed, rubbing her forehead and resting her cup in her lap, “Perhaps one. I’ll send a group to watch. If it's sighted again, we'll have to do something.”
Veon-Zih cleared his throat to get her attention and arched a questioning eyebrow her way. The Paladin returned the look with a smile and said, “I will make sure they have a sending stone. If you're needed, I’m sure they'll wait for you to arrive before seeking it out.” her smile faded, and she stared into her cup, “If they really are vestiges of dragons then I suppose Saint Giorgos is right and all of them were evil.”
“Having a crisis of faith, Rasnah?” Branston asked softly, but with a smile, “Legends say Hengist was allied with goodly dragons.”
“Dragons of Gold and Silver and all the precious metals,” Veon-Zih finished for him, then added, “None of that matters anymore. All we can do is face the challenges life presents us with in the here and now.”
“Of course,” Rasnah agreed, looking up at her old friends and managing a lopsided grin, “And now we have a wyvern possibly claiming territory in our forests. Do you think Daunas will want to join the hunt? If necessary,” she added at the end.
“Mung's boy? He’s still stationed at Hamerfoss then?” Branston asked.
Veon-Zih chuckled, “I don’t believe he would forgive you if you didn’t let him.” his chuckle died, and the three gazed mournfully out the window. Remembering their last wyvern fight, and their friend lost in bringing it down. It had been their last adventure together.
-End of Part 1-
--- Table of Contents ---
All comments and are welcome and wanted.

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There were very few things to do in quarantine.
Alex had spent his last two days sleeping as much as he could. There were six movies available to watch and nothing else. His techs steadfastly refused to tell him anything about the outside world, which was standard procedure. Nothing that would get him riled up, as Shawn put it. That sort of riled him up.
Aside from sleeping, the only thing that broke the monotony was meal time. First he would get scanned and then one of the nurses would drop off clean scrubs and a steaming hot bowl of nutragel in the small airlock. In the morning it tasted sort of like a cinnamon roll. The lunch nutragel bore some resemblance to chicken soup and the dinner nutragel was similar to but distinct from beef stew.
Nutragel was easily more dissatisfying to eat than anything else a dispenser produced. It provided everything he needed to live and made things easier on the scanner, but lacked any other redeemable features. Freedom could not come soon enough.
So he thought.
Being released was nearly as strange as being brought in. Shawn gave him his marching orders - There’d be a representative from the Civilian Pilot Program waiting for Carbon and him once he was out of the secure portion of the station, and said his goodbye before turning the airlock on. It cycled automatically around him and he walked from the quarantine room down the hall to the patient elevator. Even before the doors opened, he could smell the cleaning chemicals. A minute later his eyes were stinging and his scrubs smelled like something that would denature a prion, but it did deposit him in front of the first human he’d seen since the day he arrived.
The nurse behind the counter was not operating under the same conditions, and seemed pretty bored by his arrival. He pushed a bag with Alex’s name on it across the stainless countertop, and pointed out where the changing rooms were before turning back to his terminal.
There was technically a shower in the quarantine room. One of those dry ones that used ultrasonic waves and a vacuum. It allegedly did the job. The changing room had a real shower, towels, and the most generic little bottles of soap and shampoo Alex had ever seen. Even if everything was a little threadbare, this still felt like luxury. It had been longer than he cared to think about since he’d gotten the chance to take an actual water shower, and he was not going to skip the opportunity to wash the stink of chemicals off his body.
Once again clean, though looking a bit scruffy from nine days of stubble growth, he donned the same clothing that he had been brought in with, now so thoroughly decontaminated it appeared a shade lighter than it had started, and immediately sat down in the waiting room.
Carbon arrived about fifteen minutes later, slightly damp and visibly exhausted. While she did perk up when she spotted him, a brief flash of a smile tamped down as she glanced over at the attendant operating the elevator to the rest of the station. Alex followed suit, keeping it professional as he requested access to leave quarantine.
Once alone in the elevator, a brief look of longing may have been exchanged.
“Oh. It’s real.” Alex murmured to himself as the doors opened to the main deck of the small station, the smell of cooked food wafting through the air as they stepped out. They had arrived just in time for breakfast. He inhaled deeply. “I think they have bacon. And pancakes? You’ll like both of those, I’m sure.”
“Pilot Alex Sorenson? Shipmaster Tshalen?” An older man wearing a button down shirt and nice slacks stepped forward before Alex could determine which way to go to get to the food. He smiled affably, extending his hand. “Dae Yeong, I’m with the CPP.”
Alex barely kept his shit together and shook his hand. “Oh yes. We were told you’d be here.” He didn’t manage to keep the disappointment out of his voice, though.
Dae gave Carbon a short bow, which she returned, and he handed them both new CPP access badges. They were clearly labeled PILOT and ENGINEER respectively, with photos. Alex grinning like he’d won the lotto, Carbon straight-faced and looking a bit like she was getting a mugshot taken. It wasn’t necessary on the quarantine station, but they’d be needing them for access in secure areas elsewhere. “If you both don’t mind, we should be departing for McFadden station immediately. Traffic is already bad and there’s a lot to do.”
Alex did mind, but he kept it to himself. It was a short walk to the hanger, and they quickly found themselves wedged into the back of a four seat transport. It was an inexpensive but serviceable civilian model with CPP branding all over the outside. Mr. Yeong kept his hands on the controls even though the short jaunt to McFadden station was likely to be entirely autopilot.
“I still cannot believe it is so large.” Carbon leaned over as far as her seat’s safety harness would allow, whispering to him as the station grew on the main screen, already lined up with one of the bays on the docking arc. Parking lot speeds were strictly enforced this close to a structure, they were still 30 minutes from actually coming aboard.
“Third largest in system, twelfth in all of human space.” Alex suppressed the urge to make that joke, keeping his voice down too. It was probably pointless, Mr. Yeong was just over an arms length away in the pilot’s seat and could easily hear them. It still felt sort of conspiratorial, almost fun.
“I am aware of that, but I do not know why.” She shifted back into her seat properly, ears twitching as they pressed into the headrest. Carbon had curled her antenna over her shoulder, preferring that to crushing them between her back and the seat that had not been made with that particular biological difference in mind.
He shrugged. “They had to make room for all the old spacecraft in the Exploration museum.”
Carbon straightened up and looked at him, perplexed. “A museum?”
“Uh huh.”
“You put a museum in space? In a station that some of your most advanced spacecraft are based from?” Carbon was starting to get that tone that said she may be offended by the very idea being discussed.
“Not me personally, no. But it does seem like a reasonable place for it.”
“I did not mean you specifically, Alex. I meant as a species. Space is not a reasonable place for a museum, no matter the subject.” She was adamant about that, a finger
“Space is the perfect place for a museum about space exploration. That was the jingle they used during construction.” He cleared his throat and sang, off key. “Space... is the per-fect place.”
Mr. Yeong chuckled quietly.
Carbon’s jaw set and she huffed with frustration. “Your species is so cavalier about so many things. Space is dangerous, it is no place to leave a collection of historical knowledge.”
Alex looked out of his window with a snort, watching a row of single-container cargo drones waiting for access queuing up as he dismissed her argument with a wave of his hand. “Oh yeah, nothing of value has ever been destroyed on a planet before, right?”
The back seat got very quiet.
When he looked back, Carbon was staring down at balled fists with deadly intensity, normally blue lips pressed so tight they were pale.
He figured out where he had fucked up a moment later. “I didn’t mean- Not like, I... Hell.”
Her words came slowly, precise. “I know you did not mean it that way.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You have nothing to apologize for. The statement is true, disaster or not. A planet can still oversee untold destruction.” She closed her eyes and exhaled, her body relaxing. ”It has been a difficult week.”
He had forgotten that isolation is hard on the Tsla’o. It had been annoying for him, but being nearly completely cut off from interaction in what was ultimately an alien prison cell must have weighed heavily on her. “Is it alright if I feel bad?”
Carbon took a deep breath and exhaled slowly again, watching her hands uncurl and fingers stretch as she recentered herself. She straightened back up, ears unfolding from being pressed tight against her head before she glanced over at him with a brief nod. A thin, wry smile slowly working across her short muzzle. “That is acceptable as long as you are done by the time we arrive.”
Alex laughed just as Mr. Yeong looked back at them over his shoulder. The older man gave them a bemused smile. “Has anyone told you two that you sound like a married couple?”
That shut both of them up for the rest of the trip.
 
First Prev
*****
That's right, I wrote the P word.
They're really not good at keeping things under wraps.

Timestamp
Reposting with price drop
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Used, excellent condition

As the pack of Black Wolves swarmed the Wendigo, Elincia and I crawled behind the ferns trying to get away from the fight. Part of me knew I was being a burden to Elincia. With her night vision and elvish agility, she could probably break through the circle of Black Wolves.
The fight intensified, the chaotic barking of the wolves was deafening and the screeching cries of the Wendigo filled the valley as it clawed and crushed the lesser monsters in its wake.
Suddenly, a Black Wolf landed in front of us. Elincia's eyes were wide open and her face blanched, devoid of the little color it naturally had. The Black Wolf was wounded, its hind legs broken and its ribs exposed like white knives protruding through its skin. Elincia nocked an arrow but she wasn’t fast enough. The wolf let out a long howl before the arrow landed between its eyes.
Elincia’s eyes reflected pure and distilled terror as the Wendigo leaned over the ferns, just by our side, with its eyes fixed on the corpse of the Black Wolf. For a brief moment, the moon lit up the body of the monster. It was a tall bipedal creature with leathery slate-black skin. Its limbs were long and gnarled, and ended in long brackish claws. Its face was covered by an ivory deer-like skull. The slits in the skull revealed two bloodshot eyes that surveyed the surroundings with ill intent.
The System description said that the Wendigo was once a powerful shaman who got turned into a monster by corrupted mana. A shiver ran down my spine as I wondered what kind of unholy metamorphosis had created such a creature.
The Wendigo waded the fern bed, just above our hideout. I could hear the Wendigo’s heavy breathing above my head. The smell of rot was almost unbearable. Elincia covered her mouth with both hands as the creature’s arm touched the ground a few centimeters from my leg. I changed the weight of my body and tried to fold my leg. A twig broke under my hand.
[Awareness]: You have been spotted.
The Wendigo’s eyes snapped directly to Elincia and before I realized what I was doing, I pulled the trigger, shooting point blank directly into the creature’s head. The muzzle flash lit the forest for an instant and my ears rang. The Wendigo stumbled back, burying its claws on a tree to not fall. The creature clung there as the blood poured from its shattered skull.
“Gottem!” I yelled, thinking the Wendigo was as good as dead.
Elincia grabbed the neck of my jacket and pulled me back through the ferns just as the Wendigo raked its claws in a deadly arc just a few centimeters from my face. The creature screeched in anger.
“How in the flying spaghetti monster is that fucker’s alive?!” I said as Elincia pushed me behind a boulder, out of the Wendigo’s reach.
“I don’t know what spell you just used, but stay put.” The woman yelled but her voice came muffled under the insistent ringing in my ears. Luckily, [Awareness] helped piece together what she had said.
Without waiting for any confirmation she turned around and ran through the forest, putting some distance between herself and the Wendigo. Elincia’s bright emerald eyes shone behind the bushes as she nocked an arrow and pointed at the creature. I noted a surge of mana emerging from the woman's body and the arrow head shone with a silvery gleam. She let go and the arrow whistled with an unnaturally high pitch, burying deep into the wendigo's calf.
Piercing Arrow. [Identify] Basic archery skill that improves the projectile’s piercing capacity.
The Wendigo’s screech rocked my spine and I knew I needed to put an end to the fight quickly. If the creature had enough defense to withstand a point blank shot, it should also have similar offensive capabilities.
Ignoring Elincia’s commands, I peeked over the boulder. The forest was pitch-black and the skeletal figure of the Wendigo blended with the trees.
“Come on, Robert, use your head.”
I hoped Elincia’s night vision didn’t make her eyes too sensitive to bright lights.
Pushing the mana out of my body I conjured a cold blue flame in the palm of my hand that illuminated the forest around me. Shredded corpses of a dozen Black Wolves covered the landscape.
The Wendigo stopped in its tracks and turned its head towards the flame of mana in my hand.
“Crap.”
Without hesitation, I raised the muzzle of my shotgun and fired. The spray of metal shredded through the Wendigo’s spidery arm, leaving it hanging from a single tendon. The wound was gruesome but it wasn’t enough to stop it. The Wendigo glared at me and crossed the distance between us in a heartbeat.
With no time to reload, I dropped the shotgun and reached for my knife.
My hand closed around the handle of my knife and set my mana free. A swirl of shining blue particles surrounded me and turned the small knife into a blazing shortsword that lit the forest around me.
[Swordsmanship] injected information directly into my brain. Distance, speed, trajectory. The Wendigo tried to tear me apart but I sidestepped to the right just in time to dodge, then, I hacked diagonally but the mana sword bounced off the Wendigo's healthy arm, leaving only a small scratch.
It was harder than the Elder Black Wolf.
My mana sword was enough to cut the skin of the creature, I only needed more power. I poured even more mana into my knife turning it into a blue beacon in the dark casting the shadows of the forest away. The mana blade grew until it was the length of a two handed sword.
Blood stained the Wendigo’s cracked skull and its wounded arm flailed around lifelessly. It might not be weak to buckshot but it was weak to magic. And I had a lot of magic. The Wendigo followed me with its gleaming red eyes. Its movements were cautious but I didn’t let my guard down. I had to fight defensively. If the monster reached me once, it was over.
Suddenly, an arrow bounced off the Wendigo’s skin. The creature seemed to forget about me because it turned around and bolted towards Elincia. Just as the Black Wolf had attacked me back in the ravine, the Wendigo seemed to prioritize the weaker combatant.
“Run, now!” Elincia yelled at me. She stood her ground, nocking a second arrow and aiming at the three meter tall creature running her way.
“You run!” I replied as I ran behind the Wendigo while [Awareness] fed a stream of information directly into my brain. I couldn’t let it reach Elincia.
There was no time to retrieve and reload my shotgun and no time to experiment with [Mana Manipulation]. I remembered my new skill. [Stun Gaze].
Without even reading the skill’s description, I looked at the Wendigo and activated [Stun Gaze]. The spell hit the creature and bounced back at me. A stabbing pain shot through my eye, and into my brain. I let out a grunt of pain and pressed my free hand against my face.
Skill failed! Wendigo Lv.39 cannot be stunned. [Identify] Your level is too low to perform this action successfully.
[Stun Gaze] seemed to anger the Wendigo because it tried to stop its frantic race towards Elincia, stumbling on its ruined arm and crashing against a tree. I pumped even more mana into my knife and the blade got longer, broader, and heavier. Part of my brain wondered why a mana blade could have weight if the mana itself was weightless, but the wounded screech of the Wendigo silenced my thoughts.
I couldn’t allow fear to paralyze me if I wanted to save Elincia.
[Awareness]: Frightened status, resisted.
I let my mana flow free, further increasing its length until it was hard to wield. Suddenly, I felt as if I had been thrown into an ice-cold pool. A shiver ran down my spine and I knew I couldn’t sustain my technique for long. My mana pool was getting dry.
You have obtained Mana Depletion (Advanced). Temporary
I ignored the system prompt. The Wendigo towered over me and tried to reach me with its sharp claws. I blocked with my mana sword and with a furious strike, I shredded the Wendigo’s claws. The creature staggered back as I waved the sword around like a giant torch on its face.
Another shiver ran down my spine, threatening to lock my joints in place, and I knew I didn’t have much mana left at all.
I used [Stun Gaze] again and braced for the pain. The spell ricocheted back at me and I felt a stabbing sensation in my eye. This time, the Wendigo froze for a millisecond, just enough for my [Swordsmanship] to find an opening. I slashed downward from left to right, putting all my strength in a single attack.
The blade sliced through the Wendigo’s skin, meeting more resistance as it went deeper into the creature’s body until it lodged deep within its chest. Instinctively, I tried to retrieve the sword but it was stuck. I closed my eyes and waited for the Wendigo’s claws to shred my body. But the blow didn’t arrive.
Dark crimson bloom of blood stained the Wendigo's hide, illuminated by the fading light of the mana blade. The Wendigo produced one last weak screech and fell to the ground just as the light of my blade failed.
Level up!
Level up!
Level up!
Level up!
Level up!
You have obtained Mana Depletion (Critical). Temporary
My vision blurred and my legs faltered, the only thing that kept me on foot was the mana sword stuck in the Wendigo’s spine. When my last speck of mana was burned, the blade disappeared and I fell back but before I could hit the ground, Elincia caught me.
“We fucking did it!” Elincia said with a frenzied smile on her face. Then, she wrapped me in a tight hug that pushed all the air out of my lungs. I couldn’t help but notice how strong her arms were.
If I had to guess, she had leveled up a couple of times.
I didn't want the embrace to end but Elincia pushed me back and helped me sit on the forest bed. The moonlight shone a hole in the canopy, casting silver sparkles on her hair. She smiled enthusiastically and patted my back with a little too much strength.
“I swear I thought we were dead, but then you raised the metal thingy and bam! One arm less! You were pretty cool out there.” Elincia beamed. Her chest went up and down at an alarming rate and she had to take a moment to calm down. “I think I’m still a little deaf.” She added with a smile from ear to ear.
Leveling up was a hell of a drug.
“Praise me more.” I rasped as I let out a weak laugh. Both my body and my mana pool felt like a piñata at a children’s party.
Elincia’s expression suddenly became serious and a shadow of embarrassment flirted with her face. “Thanks for not ditching me back there, and I’m sorry if I was too harsh with you. You are a good man, Robert Clarke.”
I didn't know how to answer. It had been quite a while since I had received a compliment and my brain was too tired after being overfed by [Awareness]. I mumbled something unintelligible. Not even [Master of Languages] could help me to find the right words, however, I didn’t have to search more because a sudden prompt slapped my field of vision.
New title acquired!
Hot for Teacher. [Identify] Got it bad, got it bad, got it bad, I’m hot for teacher.
“I’m not a pathetic dude who falls for the first girl that talks nice to me…” I stuttered as my consciousness slowly slipped away. The edges of my sight slowly blurred.
You have obtained Denial Lv.1. Temporary.
“Oh, fuck off.”
Elincia’s worried face floated in front of me. “Rob? Are you okay? If you talk in your weird language I can’t understand.” She said with a hint of panic in her voice.
It might come off as judgmental and foolish, but I didn’t believe in love at first sight. It seemed too frivolous to me. No matter how cute, funny, and caring Elincia was, there was no way I was falling for her. And there was the fact she had a kid and, probably, a husband.
You have obtained Denial Lv.2. Temporary.
I wanted to fight back, fight against the idea I was falling in love, but my mouth couldn’t move anymore. The world around me darkened and my body became too heavy to sit straight. Elincia tried to keep me awake, first softly hitting my cheeks then shaking my shoulders. I tried to growl but no sound came through my lips.
“Rob? Rob? Don’t close your eyes, Rob.” Elincia said.
But I was so tired.
Elincia frantically searched her pouch for a small vial of translucent liquid. She pulled the cork and smelled the contents. Whatever scent she was looking for, it seemed to make the grade. Elincia opened my mouth and poured a drop beneath my tongue. I felt the effects of the potion spreading through my body, filling the hole inside my mana pool if only a little bit.
“Rob?”
The last thing I heard before losing consciousness was Elincia’s concerned voice.
* * * * * *
I woke up with the first rays of sunlight next to the remains of a campfire. More specifically, my [Awareness] skill awakened me with a stream of information filling my brain. The sound of the birds, the position of the sun, my bodily condition. I ignored it all. I felt drained. If a creature wanted to eat me I couldn’t do much to defend myself.
No. I had made the decision to stay in this world, now I had to face the consequences of my actions. Begrudgingly I opened my eyes just to find Elincia sitting on the other side of the campfire, by her side there was my shotgun and my knife.
“Morning.” I greeted, stiffly sitting up and taking a long sip from my water bottle.
“Morning, hero.” She greeted me with one of her mischievous smiles. However, this time I noted a hint of mistrust in her voice.
“Something happened?” I cautiously asked. After receiving that silly title from the System I had dropped like a sack of potatoes. I glanced at Elincia, searching for answers, and I couldn’t help but notice both my weapons were on her side of the campfire.
“Look, I’m not accusing you of lying or anything, but you are not a Scholar.” Elincia said with a conflicted tone. “After what you did to the Wendigo last night I know you have a fairly high level. What are you really? A Runeblade? A Spellblade?”
“What do you mean?” I asked cautiously.
Elincia’s bow rested on her lap.
“Killing a Wendigo isn’t a feat a low level Scholar could achieve, I’m not that dumb. So tell me what those skills were.” Elincia replied pointing at my weapons. “Your explosive spell pierced through the Wendigo’s skin but Scholars can’t learn Elemental magic. Much less such powerful spells. Same goes for your [Mana Blade]. That’s a Spellblade skill, not a Scholar skill.”
I stretched my back and drank another sip from my water bottle while [Awareness] filled my brain with information. Elincia’s accusations revealed that she couldn’t peek into my status screen. It was a relief to know the System had some sort of privacy settings in place considering my last title, but privacy also made things more difficult.
“The artifact you have next to you is called a shotgun. It is a non-magical item that shoots high speed metal pellets created by a… Tinkerer.” I explained but Elincias facial gesture still showed doubts. “You probably tried to use it but it doesn’t have ammo in it. You can’t shoot a bow without an arrow nor can you shoot a shotgun without one of these.” I added pulling one of the remaining two shells from my pocket.
“Explain.” She said.
Next, I proceeded to explain how to operate the shotgun. Elincia opened the barrels and I explained how the explosive powder sent the pellets through the barrel at ridiculously high speeds.
“I’m not going to perform a demonstration because I only have two shells left. Without ammo, a shotgun is as good as a club.” I said as Elincia tried the mechanism without a shell inside the chamber. Bow and arrow safety might be similar to trigger discipline because Elincia kept the muzzle away from any of us and only put the finger on the trigger when she was going to shoot.
“What about the [Mana Blade]? There is no way your knife is a magic item, no matter how much mana I poured into it I couldn’t make it work.” Elincia continued with the interrogation.
“What do you mean? That was [Mana Manipulation].” I replied, summoning a small mana knife in the palm of my hand with the leftover magic power I had. Elincia’s mouth gaped.
“You are mana depleted! You are not supposed to be able to do that!” The half-elf woman jumped on her feet. “You can’t materialize a magic blade without the proper skill!”
I shrugged my shoulders and shaped a second mana knife.
I already suspected that my mana pool was something out of the ordinary and now I knew to what degree. The amount of mana I had was probably thanks to the System. The thought of telling her about my world crossed my mind. A world without magic, without classes, and without skills. A world where one had to practice for years and years to become minimally proficient at any task. I wanted to tell Elincia about the marvels of the modern world but I feared she took it as the words of a madman.
People who claimed to have traveled to other dimensions were deemed crazy back on Earth. In these lands it couldn't be much different. For Elincia, a systemless world might sound like a thing from fantasy.
In another situation I would’ve dismissed the allegations calling them baseless, however, deep down I wanted Elincia to believe in me. I scratched my chin, deep in thought. Actually, there was something I could try that might prove that I was a Scholar.
I used [Identify] on her.
Name: Elincia Rosebud, Half-Elf (Light-Footed, Night Vision).
Class: Alchemist Lv.26
Titles: Governess, Wild Child, Bad Reputation, Loner, Copper Alchemist, Favorite Teacher (5).
Passive: Archery Lv.3, Tracking Lv.5, Farsight Lv.1, Foraging Lv.5, Purify Water.
Skills: Potion Crafting Lv.3, True Shot Lv.1, Piercing Shot Lv.1.
Elincia’s potion pouch hit my face before I could react, breaking the skill contact and vanishing her character sheet.
“Hey! Are you identifying me?” She said in an unusually high pitch.
The half-elf cheeks were fiery red, contrasting with her usual paleness. While her hand searched for another projectile to throw in my direction, I pondered about my findings. Elincia’s skills and passives were fairly low level compared to her class level. It was possible both numbers were independent from each other. Class level might rise by gaining experience from monsters while passives and skills might grow by mastering said skills.
A twig hit my forehead, crashing my train of thought. At least I had discovered the etiquette regarding identifying other people. Despite the fact I would’ve died of shame if someone saw my titles, I tried to identify Elincia one more time as vengeance for the twig.
“Okay, okay, okay! You are a Scholar, I believe you! I’ll fulfill my part of the bargain. I’ll take you to Farcrest.” Elincia said, trying to regain some composure. She was still red as a beet. “But that doesn’t mean I completely trust you, hero.”
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Discord Royal Road

This is going to be one of my more serious, long posts, so strap in, as they say (though I cannot possibly detail out everything you might need to know. That would require at least three posts). To quote -- and set the stage through -- Dostoevsky (from Notes from Underground):
'Is it [history] many-coloured? May be it is many-coloured, too: if one takes the dress uniforms, military and civilian, of all peoples in all ages--that alone is worth something, and if you take the undress uniforms you will never get to the end of it; no historian would be equal to the job. Is it monotonous? May be it's monotonous too: it's fighting and fighting; they are fighting now, they fought first and they fought last--you will admit, that it is almost too monotonous.
In short, one may say anything about the history of the world--anything that might enter the most disordered imagination. The only thing one can't say is that it's rational. The very word sticks in one's throat. And, indeed, this is the odd thing that is continually happening: there are continually turning up in life moral and rational persons, sages and lovers of humanity who make it their object to live all their lives as morally and rationally as possible, to be, so to speak, a light to their neighbours simply in order to show them that it is possible to live morally and rationally in this world. And yet we all know that those very people sooner or later have been false to themselves, playing some queer trick, often a most unseemly one.
Now I ask you: what can be expected of man since he is a being endowed with strange qualities? Shower upon him every earthly blessing, drown him in a sea of happiness, so that nothing but bubbles of bliss can be seen on the surface; give him economic prosperity, such that he should have nothing else to do but sleep, eat cakes and busy himself with the continuation of his species, and even then out of sheer ingratitude, sheer spite, man would play you some nasty trick. He would even risk his cakes and would deliberately desire the most fatal rubbish, the most uneconomical absurdity, simply to introduce into all this positive good sense his fatal fantastic element. It is just his fantastic dreams, his vulgar folly that he will desire to retain, simply in order to prove to himself--as though that were so necessary--that men still are men and not the keys of a piano, which the laws of nature threaten to control so completely that soon one will be able to desire nothing but by the calendar.'
-
I would only add that he was rather harsh on the soldier and his general. Many-coloured, is he! The eternal shine of the ten million blades, the wooden hilt; the forgotten hammer, the ships of our forefathers. Ah! Such a pity to see nought in it but blood and sand -- now, that is monotonous. If man is to mean anything at all, it must be finding some honour in life... and death. War, it must be known, is the great stage-play of time. Surely, then, the warrior is the greatest (male) part to play? Otherwise, it's all for nought!
If you're going to, as the author, gift your setting a military and its honour, you have to actually put yourself inside the mind of the general, the trooper, the law-maker, the wife at home, the child in the street; otherwise, it's going to be a hollowed-out system, a mere mote. It does not matter to me if you believe in war or not, or if all war is just (certainly, it's not): what matters is that you do your setting and peoples justice, regardless of what they may find themselves. After all, this is your job as the writer, as the artist. It's your job to let your characters and their stories free, and follow them, as to see where they may lead.
I'm not even going to dig into the elements at play, such as brotherhood, inter-national conflict resolution, national defence, social structure, and physical fitness. These elements ought to be known to you all: they are some of the clear benefits to warfare and boot camp/training, in general. I have not yet found a defeatist army, for example -- or yet a nation without some kind of guarder force, vast or not. (Note: there are some claims that actual warfare did not exist until around 9,000 BC, but I find this very difficult to believe, and have seen some counter-evidence. For example, Jane Goodall and de Waal find that chimps go to war (raiding parties, sometimes wiping out entire tribes); and there are strong indications that pre-historic human tribes were war-driven, just on smaller scales, and often using wooden weapons (thus, no direct evidence is found). We know that modern hunting (and fire-making, and related matters) existed at least 1.5-2 million years ago, according to the books I own and more recent research. That's the entire history of humanity, ultimately. There is no way these spears and slings were not used against man.)
Well, a big part of space opera is, indeed, warfare (typically in relation to defence of the Good [nation] and psychomachy). Anyway, without further ado, I give to you...
Part One: A Brief History of Battles, Great and Small
Let's begin with Alexander the Great, because why not (though I could have started with Sargon of Akkad many years prior). Alexander's army was a powerful, fast-moving, and relatively small force of 40,000 men (equal to a Napoleonic corps or so). Often credited with inventing genius 'shock' tactics (the so-called hammer and anvil tactic) to overwhelm equally-sized forces. He even managed to break up, and then defeat, the vast Persian army under King Darius III (around 1500,000 strong). Alexander the Great's army is as close to the cinematic glory of 300 (2006) as you're likely to find. Soon after, Alexander was crowned King of Asia in a lavish ceremony.
Moving forward a few hundred years, at its peak, the Roman military possibly had over 500,000 soldiers across its regions (around 0.5% of citizens -- which is a fairly reliable standard across history) by 306 AD during the reign of Constantine I. Compare this to the Roman conquest of Britain under Plautius, with just a 40,000-man force (four legions and 20,000 auxiliary troops, including Thracians) in 43 AD. (It's also worth mentioning, if you're in a long-term space war, individual companies, legions, or otherwise could stay outfitted for as long as 500 years at a time without issue. The Roman Legion, Legio IX Hispana, for example, existed for at least 150 years, and led the conquest of Britain. And, within the Warhammer 40,000 universes, a single Space Marine sees battle for about 400 years before he's KIA (killed in action).)
During the Battle of Hastings in 1066 AD, each side only had upwards of 5,000-8,000 men (around 15,000 in total). This was actually a common trend, from what I found: equally common was the notion of 'law of war' and related, which meant that each side wanted to be roughly equal to the other side. This is one of the most profound discoveries of my life (more on this later). (The Japanese invasion of China, for example, taught me that having too much control over your enemy leads to madness -- there must be an innate drive to some sense of honour, fair challenge in war-making. When men are without equals, they become titans, as it were. And, if you know anything about some of the Greek titans: they were not very friendly or sane.)
Around this time (960-1279 AD), the Song Dynasty of China had a remarkable standing army of over two million men, and made use of tank-like carts and newly-invented 'grandes' (known as 'thunder crash bombs'). However, this was financially exhausting, but it was sometimes capable of fighting against invading Khitans, Jurchens, and Mongols, largely thanks to the great iron industry. Individual battles, however, were quite small.
By the time of the First Italian War (1494 AD), Europe was really starting to take its modern shape, and there were hundreds of what are ultimately power struggle wars and rebellions across Europe as we moved out of the Middle Ages. This was the opening phase of the Italian Wars, which existed between 1494 and 1559 AD. The Battle of Marignano was the last major engagement of the War of the League of Cambrai (aka the wars between 1508 and 1516 AD, within the Italian Wars. The main participants were the French, Papal States, and Republic of Venice) and took place in 1515 AD, southeast of Milan. The Battle of Marignano pitted the French army, led by Francis I and the best heavy cavalry and artillery in Europe, against the Old Swiss Confederacy (within the Holy Roman Empire -- this was the precursor of the modern state of Switzerland), whose mercenaries until that point were regarded as the best medieval infantry force in Europe. The French had German landsknechts (mercenaries famed for pike and shot formations) on their side. The French won and suffered just half the losses, and did so with a fairly stronger force -- possibly 35,000 men compared to 22,000 on the Swiss side. This led to the Treaty of Fribourg, which established the 'Perpetual Peace', and ensured good relations between the two nations for nearly 200 years. This event is largely what led to Switzerland's world-famous diplomatic autonomy and militaristic neutrality. Nonetheless, this battle -- and countless others at the time -- saw similar numbers to centuries past: roughly 20,000 on each side.
Part Two: An Introduction to Military Divisions & the Numbering System
Enter Maurice de Saxe circa 1710 AD, whom you can thank, at least in part, for the modern military system, largely due to the major increase in soldiers by the 18th century, and his advanced thinking in response. A major battle felt by a young de Saxe was the Battle of Malplaquet during the War of the Spanish Succession. Battles pressed on in this manner, and at some point, de Saxe began to write about it. He wrote Mes Reveries, a profound work on the art of war, which was published after his death in 1757 AD.
He had the grand idea of reshaping the regiment system into large 'legions' (modern divisions), so that the effective officers were not wasted on smaller, single regiments. These divisions would consist of four regiments and would have a more even mix of veteran soldiers and new recruits, as well. On top of this, he -- along with some other key theorists at the time -- had the idea of simply numbering the divisions and regiments, replacing the traditional system of naming them by their commanders or by locations/regions: because that's a very temporary, rigid system that only works for small, tight-knit groups. The divisional system also allowed soldiers to climb the ranks, and effectively learn from the veterans.
The regimental system shatters command structure and weakens mobility, despite the fact you have smaller, often lighter units. Too many small, separate, disorganised units is highly ineffective when you're dealing with large armies, and quite an advanced enemy (be it the British or Prussians, in this case). What de Saxe noticed was a failing system of rigid tradition. He also hated this sort of grenadier mentality of the 17th and 18th centuries, as it displaced all the strongest and most experienced soldiers. Of course, de Saxe was not against the existence of grenadiers: the strongest soldiers, leading the assaults, such as storming fortifications. He simply wanted to evenly spread them out across all the regiments, and legions, so that every single unit was an effective tool. (This grenadier concept actually survives to this day, as a grenade launcher specialist of a typical four-man fireteam (traditionally, sharing much in common with WWII-era shock troops), and you see it all the time in movies, where he is still typically the biggest, strongest of the team.)
Battles were increasingly crossing the 100,000 mark in terms of soldier count; whereas, not long ago (that is, around 1650 AD), the numbers were more likely in the range of 20,000 for most battles, other than a few outliers.
Then, de Saxe died before he had the opportunity to actually implement his system, though the Duke de Broglie led some successful experiments with it during the Seven Years War, but it took until the French Revolution for the 'division' concept to be enforced, systematically. This ultimately fell at the hands of the French Revolutionary Army.
Enter Lazare Carnot. Like de Saxe, Carnot saw that some regiments were full of veterans, whilst others -- namely, the new revolutionary brigades -- were filled with barely-trained recruits. And, like de Saxe, his solution was to separate out the veterans and embed them within these new brigades. More importantly, he embraced de Saxe's idea of the 'division'. The new demi-brigades (regiments, as the Revolutionary Government hated and removed the term regiment) would be combined into brigades, and brigades would be combined into divisions. Later, under Napoleon, divisions themselves were combined into corps (which is and has always been the highest level of operational units for actual combat, with all units larger than corps being purely administrative, with a clear exception being Napoleon's Armee (i.e. modern field army), and a few other, smaller army groups).
This wonderfully created an intermediate level of control between the general and the brigade commanders. The Revolutionary Army became at once an army of mass and mobility. This allowed the army to move faster and more decisively than their enemies, who were still commanding at regiment or brigade level.
Full implementation of the divisional system was not realised until the French Revolutionary Government, in their centralising and anti-aristocratic ways, when they decided to entirely remove the old system of naming regiments after their commanders. They saw all of this as part of the 'ancien regime' (i.e. 'the System' or 'old system', language also used by Hitler in relation to what he called the 'Weimar Republic'. Not uncommon language from any new system). The second factor at play was that the French Revolutionary Government also didn't like the idea of merely naming regiments after regions of France. The final factor was scale: the Army was larger than ever, which made it very difficult to give specific names.
As a result, the Government began numbering their units by the late-1700s. Although the Roman legions themselves had been numbered, and de Saxe argued for it many years prior, some scholars believe that this was purely an administrative decision. (Obviously, your naming convention can be more on the religious/traditional or seculamodern side, depending on just how the entire system is set up. Warhammer 40,000 is a good example of a more Roman-inspired system, despite its far-future nature, so it's not uncommon to find very traditional, religious naming conventions within Warhammer 40,000, coupled with simple, administrative systems. And, again: Nazi Germany and other 20th-century powers, such as America and England, also shifted towards numbered and/or lettered systems for pretty much everything. Not shockingly, this is heavily featured in sci-fi, as well.)
Part Three: Napoleon & the Birth of Modern War:
Although the concepts of the 'corps' and 'battalion carre' (that is, four corps) existed, they were also not implemented until the time of Napoleon in the early-1800s. He began grouping divisions into corps, making the largest units in history -- equal to entire armies of older periods (three divisions and some cavalry regiments, for upwards of 30,000 men). He commanded dozens of these corps (I think, around 20 of them for his Grande Armee when he invaded Russia in 1812 AD -- or, 500,000-600,000 men, equal to the entire core Roman military at the height of its power).
Napoleon's genius -- despite his supreme failure to invade Russia -- was ensuring that these corps were typically independent fighting units. This meant they were self-sufficient armies unto themselves. This allowed for a vast force, without the whole system becoming sluggish and disorganised. Of course, as with Alexander the Great before him, this ultimately led to major decentralization and failure once the leader is defeated; thus, without a singular ruler, and without endless success, the entire system breaks down (unless there is something else binding them).
Nonetheless, by now, all the European powers had adopted the divisional system. The first British divisions were established by Arthur Wellesley in 1809 AD, for example. The Napoleonic corps system then became standardised, as well.
On the other hand -- and other side of the world -- the U.S. had its own 'legion', wholly separate from the European divisional evolution. They were independent units for the western wilderness, not sub-elements of a larger army. The U.S. finally adopted a more European system by WWI, however. (Mostly because the U.S. was simply not a large enough force yet, though it did have some major battles and unit examples.)
Regardless, the primary building block for all was still the regiment or division. This remained true through WWII and beyond.
Part Four: The Four Spatial Forms of Sci-fi
I shall skip modern history, because it's -- shockingly -- not much different to older history. This further tells me that there are some universal themes and elements to warfare, unless something changes beyond measure. As of 2023 AD, the basic building block of most armies is still the regiment or division, and 'shock' tactics, of smaller units are back in style, and have been since the 1960s or so. (I do have a few things to say about WWI and beyond, but I cannot fit it in this post, and it's not required reading.)
Technically, there is a fifth: space warfare proper (an admixture). But, we shall simply focus on the four primary. I use the term 'spatial forms' because I don't know a better term. See below.

• Space as an ocean (navy propeoceanic)
• Spaceships as submarines (navy/subaquatic)
• Spaceships as tanks (army/ground)
• Space as air with less stuff (air force/air)

You find, and should focus on, one of these as the primary mode (at least). This is true in most combative and non-combative contexts. All are workable and interesting, and have some notable examples, mostly in film/TV and novels. There is much psychology connected to each, and some innate differences to consider; and you have to think about such in relation to your nation/culture, as well, and their pre-spacefaring history.
An interesting, real-world example is America's Space Force. This is fundamentally army-and-naval driven (i.e. Marines), despite its primary air force-like nature in simple terms of the vessels and how it would function in a war. This is evidenced by the fact its ranking system and such is built around the Marine Corps. I guess, that means, going with American Marines (a complex admixture of both soldier and sailor) is not such a bad idea in sci-fi. We all know this is a decent idea, anyway, and it's seen heavily in sci-fi since the 1940s (hence, the term 'space marine'). Other marine forces are fairly in line with this, as well. The typical route here is space as an ocean. The ships are merely carrying the marines to their location (planet or otherwise). You see this with Star Wars' Stormtroopers (though I did not mention such above, I shall now: this stems from late-WWI when Germany created new advanced tactics for storming British trenches. But, most of all, it speaks to Hitler's Stormtroopers, fused with some kind of space marine position; thus, we end up with Lucas' forgetting Stormtrooper force). (Of course, the Rebels of Star Wars and the Empire's TIE Fighters go with the space as air with less stuff trope. And, there is a general sense of both army and navy from the Empire. You rarely get the 'submarine feel', in this case.)
Star Trek (at least, the original) takes the spaceships as submarines trope much of the time (other than the fact, their ships are far too wasteful, volume-wise -- but that's mostly for filming purposes, so I can accept it). I actually love this mode (though I don't care for Star Trek's version so much).
Battlestar Galactica (new series), among others, seems to take a mixed view.
Which form or mode you run with, primarily, really depends upon the exact setting, culture, story, theme, and style you're going with. I suggest figuring out which you want/which fits best, and then trying to stick to that singular vision as much as possible. To get ideas, you can research as much as possible -- both real science/history and fiction.

Synopsis:

Nine years following the execution of the old Sovereign, the four dukedoms of Augustein teeter on the brink of combustion.
Excess magic ore mining has resulted in unstable regions of shifting trees, violent storms, and a creeping plague of stillness that leaves everything frozen in time. Watchmen struggle to fend off the relentless attacks of Aberrations, while strict regulations on magic ore force aspiring magicians to sacrifice their own finite reserves at the cost of their health and, ultimately, their lives.
Amara is the sole survivor of a series of magic experiments ordered by the old Sovereign. Left with a reduced lifespan and an unnatural magic with the unique ability to progress, Amara is determined to live out the rest of her life to its fullest.
She’s going out like an explosion, and she’ll make sure that no one can look away.
—
This is a character focused, slow-burn high fantasy story with progression and light LitRPG elements that become prominent after the introductory arc, which spans through chapter 20.
It features flawed and morally ambiguous characters, unreliable narrators, and some darker elements, but there are plenty of lighter moments as well!

​
Prologue - End of an Era
Rosenfell Palace, Helisturn, Arcvale Dukedom of Augustein, Year 986
The palace halls glowed in the evening light. The last rays of sunlight filtered through cracked and broken windows, outlining piles of debris in gold. Clouds of dust rose from broken pillars and walls, shimmering as they drifted over cold, limp figures strewn about like fallen leaves. The plush red carpet, once bright and soft as snow, had been torn and shredded beyond recognition. Dark splotches littered its surface, many areas now beginning to dry and crack while still others remained moist to the touch.
A few hours ago, when the sun had still hung suspended in the clear blue sky, the palace walls had been trapped in a flurry of motion. The ringing of metal against metal, the pounding of heavy footsteps, and the shrill sounds of screams had echoed throughout the space as an invading wave of violence swept the pristine halls. Now, in the aftermath, an unnatural stillness had come to replace the rush.
A young man turned the corner, whistling an old folk song to himself as he walked. He wore an electric blue uniform that was crumpled and ripped around its edges. The color was mirrored by the single glove he wore on his left hand. His right hand was bare, and a lingering ultramarine light outlined a string of letters and numbers across his skin.
One particularly large stain covered nearly the entire stomach region of his uniform, a dark rust red that crumbled slightly whenever the man moved. A few stray splotches of the same color dotted his messy hair and tan skin, but the man made no motion to wipe the droplets off. Nor did he move to clean the equally bloodied spear strapped behind his back, the metal glinting in the sunlight. He simply strode forward with the laxness of a casual stroll, his eyes drifting about the ruined hallway and still corpses.
Finally, after he’d passed by shattered portraits and kicked aside a few bodies blocking the way with his boots, the man came to a halt.
“Oh, there it is.”
Crouching down, the man picked up a single glove lying in a dark pool of viscous liquid. He shook it a few times, and the fabric made a squelching noise. He frowned. The glove was so stained that barely any of the original blue color remained, but on closer inspection, the cloth itself seemed to be holding up well enough. Shrugging, the man slid it on, hiding the glowing numbers that were only just beginning to fade from the back of his hand.
​
ALLEN
Magic Reserves: 101,897 / 122,043
Maximum Output: 13
Variability: 6
​
AFFINITIES
Energy: 50% Minor
Motion: 100% Major
Form: 50% Minor
Perception: 25% Basic
Emotions: 50% Minor
Mind: 25% Basic
Time: 0% None
Probability: 0% None
​
1 ACTIVE ATTUNEMENT
​
“Allen!”
The man in question turned at the sound of his name being called. He raised an eyebrow at the sight of a similarly dressed soldier running forward, who halted when he saw the wreckage within the hallway. Henry’s eyes swept across the scattered bodies, and after a moment of hesitation, he continued forward with careful steps.
The two of them had been watchmen in the same area before Allen had been promoted to Duke Valister’s personal guard, and they’d reunited during the coup’s planning stages. The man was rather friendly, even excessively so at times, and he’d always treated Allen with a somewhat uncomfortable degree of reverence despite being older. But then again, magical prowess always trumped age when it came to respect.
Henry came to a stop a few feet away. In comparison to Allen, his uniform, while still stained and rumpled, was in significantly better condition, and his two gloves were a plain brown rather than blue. He frowned when his eyes fell on Allen’s very bloody glove, shuddering slightly.
“Isn’t that uncomfortable?”
Allen stretched his fingers in response, and the gloves made a squishy sound. “Eh, it still works fine.” He took a moment to assess the other man, cocking his head to the side and grinning at Henry’s poorly concealed disgust. “What, you squeamish?”
“I’m not,” Henry insisted, not meeting his eyes. Allen took a step forward. The other man’s fidgeting was even more obvious up close, and now that he paid more attention, his pale skin had taken on a greenish hue. Allen’s eyes briefly swept over the scattered bodies before returning again. He raised an eyebrow.
“Need me to use emotion magic?”
That made Henry’s head snap up, eyes widening in alarm. “I didn’t know you had an affinity—no wait, that’s not the point.” He shook his head and cleared his throat. “I’m fine, I swear! I’m just, uh, more used to fighting Aberrations.” Not humans.
“It’s just a minor affinity, but I’ve gotten pretty good with it.” Allen shrugged. “Fair enough. Anyway, what’re you doing here?”
“We’re supposed to report to the throne room,” Henry explained. “I came to get you.”
Allen hummed in response. He turned and began to slowly head back down the hallway, Henry following at his heels. “So Raymoth’s dead, right?”
Henry’s eyes darted around nervously, as if he was worried a ghost would appear at the mere utterance of the name. He nodded and cleared his throat. “Yeah, uh, I heard Duke Valister and Duchess Rosevale both did it.”
Allen whistled. “Oh really? Figured it’d just be the Duchess.” Then again, Duke Valister’s disdain for the former Sovereign was well known among his guards. Hell, Allen was half convinced the main reason the Duke had joined the alliance at all was to be part of the Raymoth family’s demise.
Turning the corner, Allen continued down a wider hallway that was in significantly better condition than the one they’d just been in. Not as much direct fighting had taken place there, and any that did had been over fast enough to minimize the mess. Allen glanced around as they walked, but he couldn’t see any other soldiers around. He guessed most didn’t want to risk disrespecting the new Sovereign. He didn’t know her very well, but from the few times he’d seen Duchess Rosevale before and during the coup, he’d understood why her soldiers were so convinced of her victory. She moved with a silent, unyielding assuredness, as if she already was the Sovereign.
For a few minutes neither of the two spoke as they continued to weave their way through the admittedly large palace. Allen didn’t even know what half the rooms were for; he’d probably go crazy if he had to live somewhere like this.
Allen could feel Henry’s eyes watching him, and he turned his head back, eyebrow raised. “What?”
The other man coughed and looked away. “Sorry, it’s just…” his voice trailed. “Did you hear about the notes?”
Allen frowned and slowed his pace. “What notes?”
Henry stared at the ground ahead of them uncomfortably. “When they ransacked Sove—Duke Raymoth’s,” he corrected, “—notes, they found some really…disturbing stuff. Something about magic experiments going on in northern Vanstead, kidnapping kids, stuff like that.” He swallowed, voice quieting to barely above a whisper. “But the thing is, they showed the notes to the Duke and Duchess, but they said it didn’t concern them. I heard—I heard Duke Valister even said it’d be interesting to keep an eye on them.”
That sounded exactly like something the Duke would say. The two of them turned another corner. Allen also didn’t doubt for a second that the Raymoths would’ve been involved in something like that. Aldridge Raymoth had gone a bit off the deep end in the past decade, and continued magic experiments on children sounded exactly like the sort of thing he would resort to.
“Do you really think they’re gonna let them continue?” Henry asked, voice visibly distressed. Surely the new regime will be better than that, was the unspoken thought.
Before Allen could respond, however, a third voice interrupted them.
“You’re late.”
The two came to a halt as a new figure stepped forward from behind a pillar. Allen frowned in recognition.
Desmond Reinford was one of the commanding officers of the Rosevales’ troops. He was around the same age as Allen, but the similarities stopped there. His uniform, as opposed to blue, was a deep red color that contrasted against his dark skin and hair. The man stood slightly shorter than average, but had such impeccable posture that he often seemed taller, unlike Allen who perpetually slouched. His uniform was crisp and without a single stain or tear in sight, and the sheathed rapier at his waist looked equally pristine. If Allen hadn’t seen the man during the coup, he would’ve thought that he hadn’t fought at all.
What most stood out, however, were the man’s gloves. They were a pure, stark white that almost seemed to glow in the quickly dimming hallway. Allen stared at them.
“Looks like someone got promoted.”
Henry nudged his elbow, but Allen didn’t stop staring. His friend laughed nervously. “Sorry sir, we, uh, got lost in the hallways?”
“I dropped my glove,” Allen said bluntly. He pointed at the stained glove in question. It was beginning to dry now, and the fabric was a little stiff.
Desmond met his gaze, eyes cold and sharp. Allen heard Henry swallow beside him.
“I see,” the man said. He gestured down the hallway, where the large, heavy throne room doors stood in the distance. Their deep mahogany surface shone, the light highlighting the intricate carvings detailing Augustein’s myths. All three of the major houses’ crests were carved into the wood, though where the banner of the ruling house would normally hang was empty, soon to be replaced with a new dynasty. Allen couldn’t help but wonder if they’d get a new door, one with the Valister’s crest replacing the Raymoths. Coups had happened plenty of times in their history, but never had one of the three major houses been completely decimated like this.
“The Sovereign is giving promotions and rewards to those of us who fought in the coup,” Desmond said. “I suggest you go before all the ore is taken.” Without another word, the man turned and strode away, likely to check the rest of the palace for stragglers, Allen guessed.
Beside him, Henry’s eyes lit up at the mention of magic ore, only to immediately deflate when the rest of Desmond’s words settled. Allen slapped him on the back.
“Don’t worry, they’ve probably got specific ore rations set aside for everyone. No way they’d just let us take them in a free for all.” Allen was frankly impressed that they were giving away ore at all, considering how stingy the nobility was with it.
Henry looked hopeful at that. “You think?”
Allen nodded. “Yeah, don’t worry. He’s just being an asshole.”
The other man winced slightly. His eyes darted around. “Uh, maybe you shouldn’t say that out loud? Especially, especially if he’s a Rose now.”
“Oh he definitely is.” No one wore white gloves but the Roses, the elite soldiers who served the Sovereign directly and were the most effective at combating Aberrations. All of them were certified as court magicians, and they were handpicked by the Sovereign. Considering the old Sovereign was now dead and a significant chunk of the former Roses had gone down with him, Allen guessed Duchess Rosevale was combing through her personal guard for people to promote. As far as he knew, Desmond had already passed the court magician test, so he would’ve been an easy pick.
He cracked his shoulder and sighed. The adrenaline rush from the coup had been fading for a while now, but now that the sun had nearly set fully and the shadows of the hallway had grown to engulf a majority of its surface, a new wave of exhaustion was settling into his bones.
“Come on, let’s hurry up,” he said. Henry nodded and hurried behind him.
As they passed by a tall window, Allen took a moment to glance outside. A few sprays of stars were visible in the darkening sky, and he could see city lights glowing in the distance as the lamplighters made their rounds. It was, by all accounts, a peaceful night, one that continued completely divorced from the happenings in the palace.
Surely the whole city would’ve heard about the coup. Allen wondered if even now, citizens were huddled together in their homes, or if they stood outside straining their necks to see what was happening in the palace. Waiting to learn the fate of the country.
Allen peeled his eyes away, facing forward and continuing down the hallway towards the throne room.
—
Penrith, Vanstead Dukedom of Augustein Year 995
High up in the watchtower, the villagers looked like a dark stream flowing between the buildings and flooding down the dirt road, some running south, others crossing streets for final traveling preparations and goodbyes.
Two nights ago, the forest had swallowed the village north of them. The watchman had seen it happen, had witnessed the ground tremble and the branches snake out, enveloping the homes, growing and then shrinking, twisting and dancing among the perfectly still buildings. He was almost glad no one had been outside, because that way he didn’t have to see the victims. But then, if the residents of those homes were outdoors, perhaps they would’ve managed to escape.
Or maybe he had seen the bodies and simply hadn’t recognized them, hadn’t managed to distinguish them from the twisted trunks and undulating ground. The warping of the forest was no more merciful to any living creatures who stumbled upon it, and the watchman, for all his years observing the shifting trees, couldn’t say with confidence that he’d be able to tell a corpse apart.
The man leaned forward against the wooden railing, peering down at the commotion. Given the speed the forest had moved at, he estimated they had a week at most before this town, too, was consumed. His own single bag lay packed near the front door of his home, ready to be picked up at a moment’s notice. Though he estimated most would be gone within the next three days, maybe excluding some particularly stubborn folks, the watchman didn’t plan on escaping until everyone else was gone first. Useless sentiment though it may be, he still had his pride.
The waves of people finally began to thin down as the current crowd left, leaving behind the remaining villagers. About twice as many people had left that day than the day before, the watchman estimated.
He sighed and shook his head. Now that the chaos had died down, those lingering on the streets continued with their business. His eyes glanced down at his watch, and he realized his shift had ended three minutes ago.
The watchman stepped back from the railing and stretched his arms. Maybe he’d stop by the tavern. Wallace, the owner, was adamant about keeping it open until “the last damn day we got,” which he appreciated. Just as he turned to go, however, a flash of orange caught his eye. He frowned and leaned over the wooden railing to peer further down the streets.
There, entering from the southern gates, a figure moved opposite to the direction the fleeing stream had taken.
A young woman was walking leisurely forward, her short wavy hair glinting as it caught the rays of sunlight. The lack of panic, hurry, or fear in her eyes made the watchman blink. There was only casual curiosity, as though she had simply been on a stroll and ran across an interesting plant. Her medium brown complexion was somewhat rare in northern Vanstead; perhaps she was from the south and hadn’t heard about the forest creeping closer? The watchman didn’t know how else to make sense of someone deliberately choosing to enter the town at such a time.
The closer the woman approached, the more details became evident. The watchman’s eyes widened.
The woman’s bare arms were covered in scars. Long, jagged lines and thin, thread-like marks. Raised bursts and patches of wrinkled and pulled skin. Some scars had an almost systematic pattern to them, neat and intentioned, while others were so chaotically scattered that it was impossible to differentiate where one began and another one ended.
For several moments the watchman simply stared at her, unable to peel his eyes away, when a sudden movement broke him out of his trance. The woman was waving enthusiastically in his direction.
Brow furrowed, the watchman watched as the woman ran up to the base of the tower, moving deceptively fast. She grinned up at him, beaming and utterly uncaring of the twisting forest approaching in the distance or of the half empty village and the stares she was already receiving.
Head tilted back, her green eyes seemed to glow in the light.
“Hey, can you give me some directions?”
​
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Author's Note:

Hello, I hope you're enjoying the story so far! I decided to finally post here after lurking for a while now. I'm planning on slowly posting all the chapters I've already published on Royal Road, one per day so I don't spam the sub.
Fair warning, I absolutely suck at formatting things on Reddit (trying to format this chapter was a struggle), so sorry in advance for any formatting issues.
Thanks for reading!

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Best Bros (Mei Suruga 🍎 & Baliyan Akki ♠️)

VS

Sayaka 👗 & Miya Yotsuba 🍀 , Kaori Yoneyama 🍚 & Minoru Fujita 🐦, EGG TART (Chie Koishikawa 🏵️ & Hagane Shinno ⚔️), Black Comaneci (Tokiko “Otoki” Kirihara 💃 & Antonio Honda 🍯), UMA (Sayaka Obihiro 💙 & kojio 🏰)

Best Bros Birthday Special Tag Gauntlet

We're going to be celebrating the birthdays of both the Best Bros once again! (Both of them were actually born on the same day: May 30th! Keep in mind, we're half a day behind Japan's time zone!) Baliyan Akki & Mei Suruga are team with unrivaled chemistry, a pair of rivals turned partners that have risen to the top of the tag division of Ichigaya (in a string of spectacular bouts) and have even taken down some powerful guests! Mei Suruga is a pin specialist and submission connoisseur (not to mention a total goblin), having recently celebrated her Fifth Anniversary (and the appearance of her second Trainee!). Mei is incredibly gifted at pro-wrestling, undoubtedly destined for greatness in the Joshi scene...though she has her eyes set on a different prize: popularity across the world! Baliyan Akki is the Ace of the promotion, a breezy elite level technician who excels at everything that is put in front of him. The way he strings techniques together is truly breath taking. He is at the top of the food chain for a reason, and it is only a matter of time before he holds a belt again! The way these two different mentalities flow together creates a perfect synergy in the ring. Even with their excellent team attacks, individual specializations, and boundless creativity, they will still be in for a brutal challenge.
Just like most celebrations in the Chocolate Square, this one will be quite violent! While there isn’t the threat of a mystery team this time, the random order of enemies makes it hard to prepare. Can they take down five of ChocoPro’s great teams in one go? Can they beat their old score? Will Mei bite someone? Tune in to find out! They will be facing (in no particular order) in 10 minute bouts:
Sayaka & Miya Yotsuba in a first time pairing! Smiling Violence and Ichigaya’s Lucky Charms are both know for their powerful striking ability and tend to compete with one another on how hard they can hit! How will the Bros endure both of the Chocolate Square’s Heavy Hitters in one match?
Kaori Yoneyama & Minoru Fujita, Two of the most frequent guests of the promotion! These two crafty veterans have both held gold in Gatoh Move and together should be an absolute menace. Buckle up for some high technical ability and dirty tricks!
EGG TART (Chie Koishikawa & Hagane Shinno) are one of the longest rivals of the Best Bros! With the speedhouse striker “Ace of the Fourth Generation” Chie and the merciless “Cold Killer” and Super Asia Champ Hagane, this will probably be one of the highest threats in the gauntlet. Expect some spice here!
Black Comaneci (Tokiko “Otoki” Kirihara & Antonio Honda) are entirely unpredictable and could very well show up in a form we’ve never seen. Though this team favors comedic antics, it should be noted that most of the comedy comes in the form of brutal slapstick and shocking weapons. It should be noted that Tokiko kicks very hard. Comaneci!
UMA (Sayaka Obihiro & kojio) represent the invading Monsters in this one. Can the charismatic veteran and the mysterious dark hero utilize their own unnatural chemistry against the Birthday Bros? These two have been impressing with their ability to adapt and overcome setbacks. Also, they are monsters.
Good Luck, Best Bros...and Happy Birthday!
Come and see the wild creativity that produced Two of the Seven AEW Women's World Champions! (Both of which have appeared on ChocoPro!) You'll be wondering if you're seeing future champs, as well. ChocoPro is the Frontier of Pro Wrestling! Match after match of hard hitting, chaotic, fun bouts with a friendly online audience. We're quickly growing, and you're welcome to come along!
Here are some Frequently Asked Questions:

“What is this?”

ChocoPro is a free online promotion run by AEW's Emi Sakura, that takes place in the legendary Ichigaya Chocolate Square! It features a steady pace of live Episode releases, fan interaction, season long story arcs, and much more! A place where the turnbuckles are replaced with 14th floor windows, the ropes are often replaced with fans, unforgiving walls provide creative avenues for skills otherwise unthinkable, and you can take solace in knowing that the referees usually do nothing. While it might be a shocking change at first, the intensity and storytelling will leave you wanting more.

“Why are they fighting in ____?”

Short answer is that it is a cost effective, unique venue with a better availability schedule and allows the roster access for training. Emi Sakura has been using this place for a long time, and you might be surprised at some of the names that have used it (even outside of ChocoPro!). There are a few in-ring Episodes and Gatoh Move has in ring shows with crowds on the YouTube channel. Think of it like the Hart Dungeon but as a promotion, if that helps!

”What are the rules?”

While special match stipulations will usually be explained before the respective matches, the general rules of ChocoPro are simple. Pins only count on the Chocolate Mat and are not broken by the edge or Wall. Submissions usually only count on the Chocolate Mat, and ARE broken by reaching the edge or wall (sometimes ceiling...). Double pins and Double submissions are legal (and encouraged) in ChocoPro Tag matches, meaning cohesive teams will always have the advantage! Count Outs only exist if specified, since many matches stray from the comfort of the Chocolate Square into the streets (and the rest of the building itself!) There is a Time Limit for each bout (based on card placement and importance) and the Referee has discretion (even if they tend to do nothing most of the time!). Every Ref is different, some have different levels of bias and speed.

“How can I support them?”

Watch the show! Even if you can't see it live, the views matter! Like & Subscribe! You can join the Channel's membership for different tiers of perks...but also, you can buy single episode Sponsorship, Digital autographed photos, and more on their shop site as well as purchase shirts from PWTees (which features some great options!) If you'd like to donate or purchase a main wall sponsorship, you can via Paypal or Patreon...and don't forget to cheer for your favorites! (especially if you want to do a superchat!)

”How come there aren’t a lot of comments on the threads?”

ChocoPro is a YouTube show, meaning the discourse happens live...in the chat! Those that comment in the threads on here tend to do so in order to help new viewers that might be intimidated by the fast moving chat. Don’t be afraid to just dive in though, the community is friendly.

“Why are you posting this here? / Are you paid for this?”

This is a wrestling forum, and I'm trying to broaden the horizons of others! There is a lot of good wrestling out there...Plus growing the fan base means more people for me to joke around with! I honestly do believe this is what a lot of fans are looking for, even if it is too different for some! But different tastes are good. Variety is the spice of life. This is a labor of love (it really doesn't take that long) considering how much work they do to put on so many shows...for free!
If you have any other questions, feel free to ask me on here or on Twitter, where I’m probably a bit tired! ChocoPro is a Gauntlet again!
Season Tracker: We're 13/18 into Season 18! (Each Season is usually around 18 episodes)

Hello all. I’m planning on getting my German citizenship by descent. My father was US Air Force and my mother is a German citizen. Pretty simple right? I was born in 1984 on a US air base. I have a Certificate of Birth Abroad (FS-545). The only problem is that my parent’s names and citizenship are not on my Certificate. It just says where I was born on it. Does anybody know if I were to order a newer Consular of Birth Abroad (FS-240) Certificate, if it would contain my parent’s names/citizenship, or would it just be a copy of what I have now? Like I said, my path to citizenship is really straightforward. The German consulate in Miami said I needed to have a long-form birth certificate with my parent’s info on it. My parent’s never registered me in Germany so I don’t have a German birth certificate. Thanks!

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It is a well known fact within this galaxy that humans place an extraordinary amount of respect on their fallen service members. I was gifted recently to be able to visit a human world on a holiday called “memorial day”. On memorial day the remember and pay their respects to their service members who fell in the line of duty.
As I got off the transport vehicle, they called it a bus, I immediately took in the sight. Rows of banners with blue stars on them, with intermittent gold stars. I would later come to learn what this meant. I followed the crowd, while mainly human there were the intermittent Rakhari, Telechian, Avian, and a few from many of the other species that make up the Galactic Commonwealth. While there I bumped into an old Human friend of mine from the academy days. After catching up, he told me “Hey, follow me. Theres going to be a speech and I want you to hear it.”
Because I wasnt on the guest list I didnt get a seat, but I was able to stand just off to the side of the seats. Behind the seating area there was a group of maybe a hundred army cadets standing at parade rest in their dress uniforms. A dozen individuals gave their own speeches before a General made his way to the stand. He talked about those he had served with, and lost, during his time in service. How fifteen years ago, as a young captain, his company was at a firebase when they were attacked by pirates. How he buried three of his brothers the next day. And how he has witnessed more memorial services than that. How final roll calls can be heart tearing- hearing a name called off that you may never hear again. The loss of a brother or sister, how it hurts more than he can emphasis. He then went on too explain the gold and blue stars.
The blue stars are put out by family members who have immediate family currently in the military. A gold star represents a family member who has fallen in recent memory. I looked at the group of cadets and noticed the looks on some of their faces. I quickly realized that some of the cadets may not be the first of their family to join the military. As the cermonies concluded my friend showed me to the parade route. I saw as.. Thousands of service members and civilians marched down main street, from the city hall to a cemetery within the city. We moved with the procession and arrived at a memorial within the cemetery. There, the general from earlier gave another speech. This speech was about the effects losing a soldier has on a family, and about how this memorial was funded by a mother who lost two sons and a daughter in service of Humanity’s forces assigned to the Galactic Council.
Shortly thereafter a 21-gun salute was rendered, and the crowd dismissed. I later found out that the memorial was called the Centris Three Memorial- in memory of those who fell in defense of this planet. Centris Three, the place where humanity’s first true war on the galactic stage happened.
Humanity remembers their fallen, and they also remember their past. It is with this I leave you. Humanity has yet to lose a war on the galactic stage despite the fact that they have almost lost their home. Which is why I am requesting that we hire human instructors at our own military training facilities, so we can learn from their history of war. Additionally, I believe we should have a similar holiday, as it is ultimately our history and culture that defines us as a species.

Hey all, Realmfire here. So this one was kind of hard for me to write. While it's not my best work it is… kind of personal to me. In fact, a few of the parts of this story are either directly inspired by my experiences or the experiences of those around me. Lest we forget those have gone before. Have a good one all.