After a near lifetime of constant over eating. I’ve come to a conclusion that I have a problem. I 22(F) have realized that food and the feeling of comfort it gives me is all I have. Everyday the only thing I look forward to is eating. That is the first and last thing I think about when I fall or walk up in the morning. I do not have any hobbies, my room is bare with only my bare essentials decorating it. My walls are a depressing gray color and so is my floor. I only have one friend. I am not currently in school as I have to wait until the next nursing application period is open since my previous one was denied. All I look forward to is eating. It’s been like that for years but with the added time I’ve had just sitting at home alone my problem has only worsened due to my increased access to the kitchen. The comfort food has given me is addictive and after I finish my meal I feel extreme guilty due to the ginormous meal I just had. Before anyone ask I do have family but they are not easy to talk to emotionally. My dad would just not understand more so due to the language barrier we have. I have not relied on him emotionally since I was 10. He was a angry person growing up that I had learned to just give him good news that would please him. He has gotten better due to a huge fight we had. It’s still hard for me to separate the past him to the present. I cannot talk to my mom about this as she can easily cry over the smallest thing. This has made me also only communicate to her good news, any bad ones and her crying will make me feel intense guilt that I cannot deal with. I cannot communicate with my brother as I have a deep sense of an inferiority complex towards him due to an event that happened years ago, which lead 9 year old me to promise myself that I would never rely on him ever again. Even still in these past few years there has been times where I would ask for his help and he would either belittle me or flat out refused to help me. I cannot ask for my little sisters help due to how much I love her thus making me not want to burden her with my problems. But also because of my jealousy of her. She got too have the perfect family that I painstakingly made due to all the arguments and interventions I’ve had with them. She is my brother’s favorite, he would do anything for her. And guess that it’s because of all this that my personality in the family is the confrontation voice of reason. I have not one to turn to. It took me so long to realize that food is my only comfort in life. If I’m being honest I don’t have a personality not a real one. The only consistent thing I have is food, I love food. But that food is hurting me now. And if I can’t binge eat, if I can’t love food then I don’t really know who I am anymore. I guess I never really did know who I was. Thank you for reading I just needed to vent and come to terms with this.

Personalized photo frames by Gifts habibi in Dubai
Looking for personalized photo frames in Dubai? You have several options available. [1] FNP AE offers customized photo frames with express same-day delivery across the UAE, and customers have praised the prompt response and delivery as well as the quality of gifts. The article recommends personalized photo frames as a special gift idea and suggests that customers can also choose from other personalized gifts such as mugs and cushions. [2] Amazon.ae also offers personalized photo frames, such as the Presto Personalized Photo Frames with Picture for Wall Decoration, but the product details are limited, and the seller doesn't offer the chosen enhancements. Customers are advised to choose a different seller if they want to add them. [3] Gifts Habibi offers a Love Photo Stone Frame that can be personalized with a photo of your choice. The frame is made of stone and comes with a stand, and customers can also choose from additional add-ons such as chocolates, a teddy bear, and a heart balloon. Customers can sign up for a newsletter to receive information on promotions and sales.
Birthday Gift Delivery Dubai
If you're looking for birthday gift delivery in Dubai, there are several options available for same-day or next-day delivery. [1] The Perfect Gift is an online gift shop that offers a wide range of gift sets, including cakes, flowers, balloons, chocolates, perfumes, and jewelry. They provide next-day delivery and same-day express delivery for a fee within Dubai and throughout the UAE. [2] GDO Gifts Dubai is another online gift shop that offers same-day delivery of birthday gifts, including balloons, decorations, cakes, and fresh flowers. They also offer express and midnight deliveries. [3] Ferns N Petals is a gift delivery service that has a wide selection of gifts, including flowers, chocolates, cakes, and unique gifts. They offer same-day free delivery in Dubai and throughout the United Arab Emirates.
The Ultimate Teddy Bears shopping destination by Gifts habibi in Dubai
Based on the Web Search Results, it can be concluded that Build-A-Bear Workshop is a popular destination for children to create their own stuffed animals in Dubai. It is the only company in the world that offers an interactive experience where children can choose a toy, stuff it, add sounds, personalize a birth certificate, and take their new friend home in a special carrying case [1]. However, there are also several other toy shops in Dubai, including Hamleys, Early Learning Centre, Hobby Centre, Lego Store, Toys for Less, Super Hero, The Little Things, and Toy Corner, that offer a wide range of toys for children [2]. In addition, a review of Build-A-Bear Workshop at Dubai Mall suggests that it offers special party packages for children [3]. Overall, there are several options for parents and children to find the perfect teddy bear in Dubai and other toys in Dubai.

With these lovely ideas for antique wall decor, you can infuse your house with a feeling of history and beauty. You are not restricted to using typical wall decorations like paintings. There are many ways to add charm to your home with antiques. In this blog, we will discuss wall decoration ideas with the help of Antiques.

1. Placing Small Etchings & Photographs

In the early days of book and magazine printing, most photographs were printed using engravings or etchings. These tiny engravings and etchings can be bought for a reasonable price; frequently, they cost approximately $25 each. Most are neutral in color.
However, others are hand-colored. They complement any environment and are available in numerous themes. You can find images of people, places, animals, plants, historical news events, etc. Even fairy tale picture books have excellent illustrations. Beautiful vintage wall decor can be created by framing several little etchings and engravings, especially if you add antique picture frames to complete the appearance.

2. Paste Antique Mirrors on The Wall

From enormous, elaborate floor mirrors to smaller hand mirrors, antique mirrors come in a wide range of sizes and designs. Make a gallery wall in your home using a variety of mirrors to display them. This installation style will reflect light and enlarge your room, which is an added benefit. Also, mirrors only reflect the hues they are exposed to, making them ideal for neutral farmhouse wall decor.

3. Make Use of Framed Embroidery to Enhance Your Wall

Samplers made of embroidery and other fine needlework are a wonderful way to lend a touch of old-world charm and distinctive personality. Frame examples of Victorian needlework to add character to your wall decor. They are frequently offered for less than $30 at flea markets and auction websites. When matted and framed, even a tiny sampler conveys a powerful message.

4. Hang Antique Metal Trays

You can display your collection of antique trays on the wall if you collect them. The reflective surface behaves like a mirror without producing a distinct reflection, whether you gather copper trays or silver-plated platters. The polished trays are a neutral option that complements any interior and can increase the lighting in any space. You can get these ancient yet antique metal trays from sites like Shopify.

5. Style Your Wall with Antique Fans

Fans can still be found in antique shops; they were formerly a crucial component of women's outfits. These make wonderful vintage collectibles, especially if you wish to display them. One concept for an antique wall decoration involves framing fans in unique shadow boxes, which are then hung collectively on the wall. This looks great in a living room or bedroom.

6. Place Antique Clothing on Your Wall

Particularly when you hang a collection of multiple items together, clothing offers an interesting and charming antique wall décor alternative. You can find anything from vintage children's apparel to aprons in thrift stores and antique shops. A huge wall can be used to hang numerous items on wooden hangers. This is a nice option for a bathroom or bedroom.

Please just bear with me here, this is my first time making a post like this, and it's for a problem that I don't know how to describe, if that even makes sense... Without giving too much details, we both went to this small private school and basically spent 6 years in the same room as each other, except for summer break. We were always just great friends at school from the start, never really had any contact with each other outside there, maybe aside from texting from time to time. But when we were at school, we were pretty much inseparable. I started to catch feelings quite some time after we met, but I've always been shy and very awkward about having those kinds of feelings towards people, and I knew it showed from the moment I started feeling them. We stayed friendly enough, but I never got the nerve to ask them and I knew they knew something was up.
Now I don't feel comfortable trying to explain everything at the moment, as it would take a wall of text of details and some abusive ex/family/related abuse/traumatic things that personally happened to me, but those events that happened one summer were the cause of many awkward rumors and situations that came up between me and them. All of these situations usually revolved around rumors of us dating/sleeping together (and we never did either of those things), or someone just making up things we said about each other and then just watching us fight with each other about it. Not to mention that most of it was geared against me and constantly involved stories of me just wanting to "get in their pants." So that's how our situationship went for the last 2 or so years before I graduated at 19 yrs old.
Then we ran into each other about a year later. I don't even really remember many details of this encounter. Obviously I didn't know it at the time, but I was just entering a second major psychotic break due to some of the trauma I mentioned earlier, and some more events connected to it that had just happened in weeks before. What I do remember, for one thing, is that it turned out we both actually had romantic feelings for each other in the past. We both admitted that we were shy, awkward people and that maybe both of us could have done a better job at just admitting what we wanted from each other a long time ago. But other than that, we just laughed it off. I started to feel like I had a chance... until I found out that one of their best friends was someone connected to this trauma and had also R'ed me when I was 17... I don't quite remember how I reacted to finding this out, but I know it wasn't very well. I know I left out of there without speaking many other words to them after that. I don't even remember if they even knew about the R beforehand or if I even said anything about it. I know they'd never be the type of person to be okay with something like that, if they knew about it. Let alone be friends with somebody like that, but now idk. But I do know that after that day, I didn't think about any of them for a long time. That whole encounter and finding out what I did just really shook me up. Even triggered, if I'm being honest.
It's been a good few years since all that, and my life has changed a lot since then. I've been through much therapy and my mental state is so much better now, and I just feel happy in general for the first time in my life. I have a few good friends, a well paying job, lots of projects and hobbies on the side, and I even just bought my first house. My romantic life is still empty just like it's always been though. The only girlfriend I ever had at 16 damn near got me killed (literally), and I just quit trying after that point. I swear I'm not an incel, but after the things I went through, I just have a problem trusting anybody outside my family in general, and I'm not afraid to admit that. The person I'm writing all this about is the only person I've ever truly crushed on, for so many good reasons.
You'd think that I'd moved on from this stupid little teenage crush way by now, and I did. Until about a month ago. I think I was scrolling here on Reddit and saw some meme that reminded me of them. And it hasn't stopped since then. I can't stop thinking about them. I don't even know how to describe the level of what I feel about it. Like I just want them. Period. I just want them in front of me, right now. I don't even know what I would say. I don't even know if they'd want to see me. And then I feel so wrong for even thinking these thoughts to begin with. But I don't know why I can't stop thinking about them. It's just nonstop. The way I'm feeling isn't exactly sexual. It feels more like I just need them in my life and I want them involved in every day of my life. But now I'm at my breaking point. The past two nights I dreamed that we were passionately making out, just to wake up to my alarm and start crying in the middle of both of them. Yes, I know I just need to let go and find a partner in general. I don't even know how to explain my feelings past that. I just feel so weird for being so infatuated with someone that I haven't been close to since literally high school. I have no idea where they are or how their life is today. I sincerely hope it's all good, though. Hopefully they moved on to do so much better in life and found them a better partner than me, far away from our boring small town. I feel like I'm just stuck here with memories and unexplained feelings. I'm just glad there's lots of good memories between us. I used to think the world of them.
I just want to move on, and more than anything, I just wanted to get all of these feelings off my mind and see if this was normal/if anybody else has ever felt this way about a certain someone. That's all I can really think of to say for now, thanks for suffering through my paragraphs about my petty little first-world issue, lol.

Mr.Komos Returns"
​
The last thing I remember was being stupid and failing to look away from the icoffin that was aimed at me and being turned to stone then everything goes blank and that was weeks ago. I should of remembered what a Gorgon's glare did but I was so angry and hell bent on destroying that school that I ended up taking myself down. I wasn't aware that I was replaced with a new teacher and that she was the one who found me and undid the petrification and was now caring for me. I slowly started coming around and only when I moved my arm did I realize I could move again and wasn't incased in stone anymore. I opened my eyes and everything was blurry and I realized I was missing my glasses as I had removed them for the transformation which I could now change into or retain my more human look, I really need to learn to embrace that side of me. I sat up and rubbed my eyes trying to get them to focus to try and make out my surroundings and the first thing I noticed was a huge vase that had some kind of drawings on them and one of the drawings I recognized as a scarb beetle so if I had to guess the decor was based on Egypt, ancient Egypt. I looked down at myself and realized I was not wearing my tattered clothes anymore but a set of pajamas, really soft pajamas so I'm guessing they were made from Eyptian cotton. I heard footsteps coming to the room and the first thing that ran into the room and jumped on the bed with me was a cat, a black cat with emerald green eyes, he or she was wearing a gold collar with a scarb beetle tag. I was focusing on the cat and failed to see a person walk into the room "Ah you're awake now" I quickly turned my attention to who was talking to me but he or she was blurry to me but I acknowledge that I heard him or her "Yes, where am I? better yet who am I?" I don't even remember my name which is pretty bad. I was handed my glasses back "Here I believe these belong to you" I took them and put them on and everything finally came into focus and I seen who was talking to me a female wear cat, she had black fur, her hair was long and black with pink streakes through out, like her pet cat her eyes were emerald green, she wore a white blouse with a scarb beetle broach at the collar, a long blue skirt and no shoes which would make sense since she's in her house. She smiled at me "To answer your questsions, you are in my house which is off campus so no one at the school knows you are here and as for your name, your name is Eddy Hyde jr, you went by Komos though, I know all about what you did but don't worry, I understand completely though you should not have let the anger burn in such a way that it fill your heart with hate" She gave me a tray and told me to eat and since I hadn't eaten in awhile I did what she told me to do and she grabbed her cat "Anubis behave yourself" She then realized something "I never told you who I was, my name is Bianca Anubis, I'm the new Hisstory teacher at Monster High" Since I had a mouthfull of food I nodded then swallowed what was in my mouth. "Nice to meet you, intresting accent you have, where are you from if you don't mind me asking" she shook her head meaning that she didn't mind me asking her that and sat on the bed with me "I come from Eygpt as that is where my father is from and my mother is living at the time, she moved there to be with my father, she is orginally from around these parts" Something then dawned on me "How on earth did you undo the petrification, I didn't think it could be undone" Bianca sat Anubis on the floor and told him to play and he ran off to do that and then she looked at me. "Oh I learned from student Deuce Gorgon that it can be undone, he knew of three ways, I knew of a fourth way" She then got up and went into another room then came back carrying a mask "This is the foruth way" I sat my cup down and looked at it "A mask?" She nods "Not just any mask though, this mask is of the Eyptian God of the Dead, Anubis, his task is to take you to have your heart weighed when you die, if your heart weighs less then a feather you may pass into the afterlife, if it weighs more then a feather, your heart is then eaten and you do not pass into the afterlife, Aubis is my father, so like you my friend I have a human side, this mask was able to undo the petrification by feeling for your heart and soul, once it sensed your life force or heart and soul, it freed you from your prison" She let me see and hold the mask "Wow, it's very nice and heavy" Bianca laughed "It is made from gold and other precious metals and gems, oh and my father can be called when I need him, he helped me bring you back here and he cleaned you up and changed your clothes while I prepared the bed for you then went about preparing a meal for you, he's gone now but I can bring him back anytime I need him and I'm not going to kick you out, you need a place to live, you may live with me, I can get you clothes and what ever else you may need, I believe in giving second chances, so when the time is right I will tell Headmistress Bloodgood what is going one, there is something she wished to tell you before your...um...untimely demise, she realized the school was wrong and shouldn't have kicked your father out, they should of let him stay to keep him safe, a student named Holt Hyde revealed that he to has a human side named Jackson Jekyll, It turns out your father never hid the fact he had a human side it was he never knew he did, he was wrongfully killed" I sat the mask down on the bed "So it was a misunderstanding back then?" She nods and then produces a scroll from a shelf next to the bed "Yes, according to this when your father was questioned he answered truthfully by saying he didn't have a human side, meaning he didn't know about it until the trigger was found, with Holt anger is the trigger, so I'm guessing that's what it was with your father and when his human side was revealed everyone freaked out and the samething happened with Holt when his human side was revealed but Deuce and Clawdeen were able to stop the riot and calm everyone down, Clawdeen should of been your first clue about embracing both sides of who you are" I nod and put the tray on the bed as I was finished eating as I had eaten everything she had given me. "It feels good to have some one tell what I wanted to know all this time, perhaps I should of done my homework" Bianca sat next to me on the bed again "Eddy, sometimes we are blind to the truth, when the anger burns all we see is hate, all we see is red, all we want is revenge but that's not the way to go, I'm willing to help you and I'm sure Holt will be willing to help you as well, once everything is clear to you and the others everything will be ok, the first thing we need for you to do is put the past behind you and forgive yourself for your mistakes or in other words make piece with your past, it's not the easiest thing to do but it can be done" She then hands me something and I take it and look at it "It's a book" Bianca opened the book to show me it was a journal, one that belonged to my father Eddy Hyde sr. I was shocked when I saw that and quickly began to look through it. "He had no idea why he made that formula" She shakes her head "I think he knew to some extent he had human genes in him and wanted them gone, but you can't erase who you are, you need to embrace it" She then takes the mask and puts it on her head and lowers it and clips it in place, I raise the book to my eyes as a bright golden glow comes from the mask once it fades I put the book down and she removes the mask. I just stare at her in amazement, she no longer has her black fur or her cat ears, she has dark skin and still has her long black hair with the pink streaks and her emerald green eyes but the rest of her is human, she was showing me her human side.
​
It's in his point of view and I'm tinkering with different ideas, one is using the books they have no memory of each other so yeah they'd think he was lying about hiding his human side when in reality he has no idea it exists. in my mind Bianca sounds like Zecora from My Little Pony Friendship is Magic. This story is the first mention of her pet cat Anubis as well.

Starts 22 March 2023 1501GMT
Ends 5 April 2023 1500 GMT
Prizes:
Boardwalk Carousel (Building)
Barnacle Bay Marina (Decoration)
Fausto (Character)
Boardwalk Animals Tent and Boardwalk Art Tent (2 Decorations) Purchasable after unlock 15 Donuts each
Tire Mooring Post, Barnacle Bay Lamppost, and Metal Boardwalk Railing (3 Decorations) Purchasable after unlock for game cash
Premium: The Rotting Pelican w/ Skipper Jack (Building and Character )150 Donuts
Super Premium: The Candy Shoppe, and Candy Shoppe Boarded w/Nathaniel (Building, Building Skin, and Character) With Purchase of 300 donuts
______________________________________
Modpost please read https://www.reddit.com/tappedout/comments/um35jp/repeat_posts_please_read_before_making_a_new_post/
*DAY OLD DONUTS task still in taskbook: If you tap Do It and it doesn't go to an exchange box in the currency section of the store you will have to contact EA and wait for them to fix it. report and add your me too here https://answers.ea.com/t5/The-Simpsons-Tapped-Out/Cannot-exchange-Xmas-2022-Tokens-For-Donuts/td-p/12123956
***Shattered dreams box only appears between events*\*
Make sure to scroll for all the tasks so you don't miss one
Double check that Confirm Donut spend is turned on in the settings
______________________________________
Wiki: https://simpsonswiki.com/wiki/The_Simpsons:_Tapped_Out_Shiver_Me_Barnacles_content_update
Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/c/kclovesgaming
Cars and items on Roads
YouTube video: https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=oEb2q1_KUpY
Reddit posting: https://www.reddit.com/tappedout/comments/rqiuol/unlocking_locked_tiles_if_you_take_something_out/
Other Posts:
General game info: https://www.reddit.com/tappedout/comments/ygqpea/tapped_out_game_info/
Mayhem ID post: https://www.reddit.com/tappedout/comments/irxs3k/why_you_need_your_mayhem_id_now/
Tips for increasing bonus: https://www.reddit.com/tappedout/comments/nwqjmi/my_tips_for_increasing_bonus_and_farming/
Modpost please read https://www.reddit.com/tappedout/comments/um35jp/repeat_posts_please_read_before_making_a_new_post/
New tasks: https://www.reddit.com/tappedout/comments/s9gnfy/tasks_recently_added/
Here is a list of the best things in the yearbook by goal: https://www.reddit.com/tappedout/comments/oir6a7/best_items_in_yearbook_by_goal/
here is a list of items with bonus in yearbook: https://www.reddit.com/tappedout/comments/ukni46/items_in_yearbook_with_bonus_letter_is_column/
PSA about sites that charge: https://www.reddit.com/tappedout/comments/p3n2ps/beware_offers_of_game_currency_or_items_sent_by/
https://www.reddit.com/tappedout/comments/jf24dc/beware_the_paid_hack_discord/
Be wary of anyone who contacts you by dm or chat to join a discord or subreddit giving free donuts and items from the game or charging for these services. New ones are inexperienced and can break your town and cannot fix it and do not care.
Anyone who is selling items or donuts cash etc for this game are usually New to hacking games and so are inexperienced.
They are also in a hurry because they want to make more money. This means they will sell you whatever you want and do not care if it will break your town.
There are many items in this game that will destroy your town if placed in at the wrong time or too many of them etc. Please just be careful.

“Alright, shitheads, before we drop, we’re running our way through the plan: our first step entails high tailing it to the center of the building; by my count that means we’re going to have to crack two separate high security gates to enter. The second step will be the simplest—get into the Supervisor’s office; two guards will be outside door, with another pair of patrols in the hallway at all times. We gas the joint, put ‘em out, then use their fingerprints to crack into the office. Finally, we’ll nab the plutonium and jet towards the windows. And remember: above all else, we keep it quiet, I don’t want to have to kill anyone tonight,” I explained.
“Sounds good, boss,” Krieg said, sarcastically.
“One more thing: while we’re inside, I’m in charge. I won’t repeat myself; if I have to say something twice, the second time I’ll say it through a barrel. We clear?”
Whitney rolled her eyes.
“Crystal,” Krieg snarled.
Rain hammered the plascrete, as storm clouds rolled in above Satellite Valley. Every inch of space not consumed by buildings, or the road had been converted into solar panel storage. Thousands of new cameras had been installed throughout the district a month ago, after a heist turned into arson and threatened the entire of the district. The skyway was surveyed by a veritable net of bulky, square combat drones, each of which possessing full access to the security network. I hated working in Satellite Valley.
Locust’s corporate tower was a mighty sentinel of automated aggression, eagerly overlooking the city, waiting to its payload of robotic death upon whoever was foolish enough to be made an example out of. The obsidian spire was framed with lines of streaming neon lights. An immense sign read, ‘Locust Munitions and Automotive,’ perched atop the building like a ridiculous square hat. I glanced to the security monitors atop the enviro-dome: no threat level increase. That in itself was a damned miracle; anytime a vehicle entered from outside the district, the threat prediction algorithm would do a routine threat level increase. Marcel and Maggy must have figured out a way around it, but how?
Finally, we reached the parking garage. The doors opened, but Marcel and Maggy never said a word. I left a credstick on my seat, nothing much, only a couple thousand; it was the least I could do—they’d seen me through so many hard times.
The garage was quiet. I compressed the button on a localized jammer as we all stepped out. The cameras sputtered for a moment before continuing their rotations. Marcel had dropped us at the bottom of the garage, a block away from the maintenance entrance. Krieg and Carol fell into formation, flanking me on either side; Whitney followed a few feet back, with Ursa and Monitor taking up the rear. With a thought my HALO readied my guns. I selected non-lethal rounds, watched the drums spin and clicked on my norepinephrine regulator. This was it; chances like this came along once in a career. This much plutonium would be enough to fund a retirement—if I ever decided to retire.
“Alright, team, load up non-lethal rounds, keep it quiet and stay in formation; on my mark!” I said, drawing both guns.
Whitney’s cufflinks cast sparks to the ground; tasers. Figures, she’d never had a stomach for murder, not outside of the man in her basement who she apparently intended to torture to death. I suppose the world had changed both of us. I could see it in the way she moved: she was leagues above were she’d been before we’d all went our separate ways. She was a professional now.
We wove through the shadows, careful to avoid stepping out of line. The cameras wouldn’t give us away, everything organic in a ten foot radius of the jammer would be masked, refracted like it was never there. Unfortunately, even with the best gadgets the risk of human intervention was still present. I slipped on my rebreather as we crested the garage’s slope. A small door situated between two separate webs of piping and wires sat across the room. The maintenance entrance. I flashed a fabricated security pass and the door slid open.
I emerged into a narrow corridor, the walls lined with hissing pipes and loose valves. We shifted into single file. Humidity drenched the room, accruing on the walls like hackers on an open HALO channel. The heat was nearly unbearable. I couldn’t help but think of how vulnerable we were. I let out a short, crisp whistle and started hustling forward in a quiet jog. All we could do was move fast and hope none of the staff had to leave mid-shift. Finally, we reached our destination: an automated door that chirped a synthetic sounding, “Good morning!” as I flashed the fake security pass.
Immense glass frames were laced throughout the metallic black hallway. The scent of industrial cleaner hung in the air, and the walls were decorated with surrealist art depicting melting faces, distorted objects and psychedelic landscapes. The group slid to a halt as something robotic whirred into the distance.
Carol’s eyes flashed to me, begging for permission.
Unsure, I slowly nodded back. Her cyber-shell tensed up, assuming a crouched position with her head covered by her arms. Her eyes were empty. I’d never seen anything like it; what the hell was she up to?
I waited with bated breath as the whirring slowly drew closer. I pointed my SMGs, but Krieg glanced at me, shaking his head. Finally, a security droid rounded the corner, taking point beside Carol. Whitney rolled her eyes.
The stairs were impossibly wide, apparently designed as the workers primary avenue of transportation, despite the intricate elevator system present; Locust reserved luxuries like elevators, breaks and days off for the higher ups. We clung to the shadows as we ascended the stairwell.
“Hey, what the hell are you doing here?” a guard called out, rapidly levelling a hand cannon towards the group.
Krieg’s finger reconfigured itself, firing a pair of darts into the guard’s neck. He hit the ground almost instantly.
“Poor bastard should have just pretended like he never saw anything and went about his—” Ursa started, before a rocket pierced his chest, detonating from within.
A hail of gore rained down upon the crew. We were helpless; there was no cover, no tactical advantage to be found. I clicked the guns over to lethal, enabling explosive rounds. Whitney dove forward. The shooter launched another missile, landing square in Krieg’s chest. Despite the obvious damage, the cyborg endured, his arms reshaping into miniguns as he bellowed a war cry.
And just like that, the run went loud.
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So, Rank Match is coming to EN (in less than 12 hours as I’m writing this!). Maybe you’ve seen a few posts crop up on your twitter TL or randomly on this subreddit bringing up fear of cheaters. Maybe you haven’t and have only seen the ones saying “I’m no good, I’ll probably only languish in bronze” or something like that. But all the same, I think we need to treat with the topic.
Let’s talk about cheating. It’s rampant, and it needs to be recognized. It’s worth addressing. It’s worth keeping EN’s integrity as a server.
A little context, before I do: I'm a user from the community Sekai server (henceforth referred to as Sekaicord) linked on the sidebar. By habit, I am not a reddit user, and I apologize if this comes off too strong as a consequence. I understand this is a contentious topic, and I recognize that I might have perception bias if the only posts I see from here showcase the "worst" posts and not the actual "average" opinion on this — but, my impression is that, in general, this subreddit has a terrible track record when it comes to identifying cheaters, and an equally awful slate of defenses for their behavior. I'm writing this post not just to address some of these defenses, but also to open the conversation. The less we know about it, the less we can push the devs to take action on it. And likewise, the more we’re aware…
Some context for my viewpoints / experiences on the matter:
- I'm a Day 1 JP player, with 240+ Master FCs. I played EN from day 1 up until around Scramble, when the amount of external tiering drama got too much for me (and, if my handle on what happened during White Day is right, it hasn't gotten better). Level-wise, I’d be about Lv31-32 for FC skill and 26-28 AP-wise. Ask me for a handcam if you want. On Sekaicord I frequently talk to much better players — yes, even ones who can FC/AP 33+ songs (which are probably the most likely to get doubted). I asked a player with Lv34+ FCs (AMARA, 16bit, Intense Voice, Disappearance/END) to review this huge treatise before I wrote it out. I'm pretty confident as to their legitimacy and generally see some patterns that emerge as to why they are. I'll explain some of these here.
- I tend to give the benefit of the doubt to APs up to around Lv32 in the wild, but a lot of Lv33+ FCs tend to be more suspect for any number of reasons you can see from the co-op results screen.
- The atmosphere in Sekaicord around cheating is, as you can probably infer from my tone, highly distrusting. Cheaters are banned on sight once proof is established beyond doubt – so in fact, it surprises me that technically speaking, the rules on the subreddit’s sidebar don’t concretely penalize cheating!
But like many communities, it didn't start out like that. The dedicated gameplay channel was VERY happy to celebrate players' accomplishments (we used to have every 33+ FC pinned) and generally didn't ask for much proof — until Rank Match came on JP, and a player who we all thought was just insanely good got exposed (because JP caught and banned him). Here's the thing — he was a good player in his own right (i.e., Lv. 32+, but not good enough for the results he cheated), and the way he hid his results was much less blatant than some of the people later banned from the server for cheating, who… well, put in about as much effort as some of the cheaters that have been linked to me from here. This is how it goes for pretty much any community: break the established trust, and obviously nothing's the same afterward.
I will try to write this in such a way that it gives cheaters as few hints as possible on how to make their plays look more "legit"; I simply want to point out some of the common patterns that emerge when a cheater really is afoot (and which are never an issue for a legitimate player), and refute some of the more common defenses.
Another thing: yes, not everyone condescends to the level of some of these defenses I’ve written out. However, I’ve seen them appear enough in more or less these exact forms, unchallenged, that it’s worth quoting them in exactly the same way to give you an idea of what’s wrong with these viewpoints. This is not meant as a personal attack (moreso if you may have said something to these effects in the past); it’s simply an attack on the logic behind them.

DEFENSES:

(1) "Has it ever occurred to you that someone might just be that good? / Or maybe they're just that good?"
Statements like these are, to put it bluntly, passive-aggressive and condescending towards people who might have genuine grounds for suspicion. People weren't born yesterday; we're fully aware that people on the level of HPS, MaengZombie, nanoflower, REN, STK, SkisK… exist. (I've specifically excluded jack just because he's the low-hanging fruit and also to point out that if one’s only knowledge of a "good player" is jack, well… there’s a whole world out there).
But the reason people don't cast doubt on those players is because they have put in the effort to be deserving of that trust. Every one of the players I've mentioned has videographic evidence — YouTube, Twitter clips, the list goes on. They frequently compete to get world-first on APs, and they're well aware that if you do not have a video that shows your hands, your play means nothing. For example, tweets purporting to show world-firsts on Six Trillion Years and Overnight Story were, pretty much without exception, disregarded by JP players when the user was silent on the question of handcams.
(The first recognized AP of Six Trillion Years is from SkisK , at 1d 1h 19m after release.)
(A little aside: JP players can be pretty ruthless about cheaters. From the official JP Discord, I passed by this message of someone posting a Yaminabe AP tweet with no proof on release day and was (not) surprised to see a slew of X-to-doubt reactions -- and, as with the tweet above which I had to resort to Wayback Machine to show you, it was later deleted presumably after getting called out.)
I also want to be clear on this: this also means that a player you don't expect CAN come out of nowhere and stake their claim on an achievement, as long as they have the proof to back their claim up. Here's a good example: the maxed score on Arcaea's hardest chart, Testify BYD, was achieved by a player (005saikou) who otherwise wasn't known for any other world-firsts! And — you guessed it — he had an annotated video to back up his claim, commenting on which parts he thought was hardest, and other peculiarities of the chart.
There's a common counterargument to (1) that goes something like
(2) "Well, maybe some people just don't want to show their hands / dox themselves / don't know how to record / etc."
Let's do this point-by-point.
2a) "...don't know how to record / not everyone has a second phone or camera to record handcams with..."
The trial-and-error process required to reach the level of play we're talking about 99% demands the ability to record, review, and rewatch your play. Even if you're not going to post it, you almost certainly will have tried it at some point on the road to 33+ just for your own "where did I go wrong?" purposes.
This argument is also an insult to the intelligence of a player; recording ISN'T EVEN HARD. Recording is built-in on iOS. Recording on Android is as simple as typing "screen recorder app" into Google Play Store (or its equivalent, for Xiaomi and other no-Google builds) and downloading the first free option that doesn't have ads every 0.1 seconds. While screen recordings are less trustworthy than handcams because, well, you can’t see what the player is doing in order to get that result, they’re trustworthy enough in conjunction with players who, besides a recording, can talk about what, why, and how they do what they’re doing (more on this below).
As for handcams, please don't be intimidated by the fact that most well-known YouTubers have professional-looking, crisp 1080p setups: even a grainy 480p view is enough as long as it's clear you're not pretending to mash away while a bot automatically PERFECTs the 200BPM portions of Intense Voice. Google "handcam setups", or DIY one by cutting a slit at the top of a cardboard box and pointing a camera lens down while you play from the bottom (my preferred solution). I have seen players who record themselves using cheap $20 webcams not even clipped to anywhere stable, players who ask to borrow a family member’s phone or camera for a paltry five minutes… anything to be honest! For as many cheaters I’ve seen accused, I’ve also seen nearly as many people who put in the effort to be honest, which deserves a good mention.
Just about every case I know of someone who wasn't a cheater was willing to provide a handcam of some sort. It doesn't matter if they took 30 minutes, five hours, or three days — they came back and defended themselves. I've even seen it on the EN discord! The first instinct of a cheater, by contrast, is to either stay completely silent and let other people do the defending for them, or to get extremely defensive and use some of the many arguments here.
Incidentally, there are legitimate examples I know of of completely unknown players who pop up one day in Sekaicord with some godlike play, and the reason they were believed on the spot? Handcam.
2b) "...don't want to show their hands / dox themselves..."
I suppose nothing can be done about that, but on this point I'd like to point out that Sekai is hardly the first (and will not be the last) rhythm game community to have doubters. This is frankly small-time compared to osu! players doing this like it's a JOB. And that comes down to a fundamental truth about rhythm games: difficult skill-based achievements have always had value because people SHOW they can be done. Consequently, if there is no proof, there is no value; if you're willing to make an outrageous claim; you best be prepared to show some outrageous play, or risk it not being worth anything at all.
There are other ways to show you clearly did what you're claiming to that don't involve a handcam, mind you — but they involve knowing what you're talking about, describing the chart / your strategies in detail, and, well, generally a certain level of passion about the intricacies of the game that most cheaters don't really seem to have, because they're only really here for the one fleeting shot at attention (mentioned this above already; skip to “spotting cheaters” below if you’re curious enough to know how).
Moving on…
(3) "But they posted a recording of…"
Let me be clear on this point: I personally (and many others) are not wondering if they photoshopped a rainbow clear diamond on a song; anyone can do that in three minutes. I am also not wondering (and do not care) if someone has a recording of themselves scrolling through a list of songs with a shiny line of rainbow diamonds, because that doesn't really mean anything if they cannot demonstrate the ability to repeat it (and that a bot didn't do it for them). On this point, most players aren't so letter-of-the-law obsessed as to demand a recording of a re-AP (understandable: players like Mita Kousuke take months even to get a singular AP on What's up? Pop! and there's no guarantee the perfect moment will be caught on camera for most players) — I (and many others) just want to see a level of play that reasonably LOOKS like they can do what they’re claiming to have done. Put simply, I really just want to see someone’s fingers dancing where the notes are landing, not their hands flailing miserably against the glass screen while a bot does the actual playing.
What would "reasonable" look like? Take a look at the Mita video as an example. While he lists some of his current personal bests at the top, you'll find that the majority of these streams are him failing, sometimes incredibly early, sometimes amazingly -- but the overall level of play is high. Players who've just finished with a feat from the night before / day before / two hours / 30 minutes before don't "rust over". A few hours' rest (if necessary) for exhausted hands is almost always enough to show something approaching legitimate if the player in question is legitimate -- again, no one's asking for a second AP.
(4) "You're just jealous!"
And? So what if I am? Since when was emotion a valid reason to stop reading and avoid the possibility that even people driven by emotion can make valid points? But part of why this argument is unusually effective is because most aren't aware of the common patterns that drive cheaters, and so valid arguments are often dismissed as being down to jealousy if you're not aware of why some of these defenses for cheaters just don't stick.
Part of why I shared the context of where I come from with this was partly to dispel this argument. I've long since accepted that there are people much better than me, and I want to explain why people (who don't necessarily have that chance) react the way they do towards cheaters without resorting to ad hominems like this.
But never mind me. If me potentially being jealous is enough to discount it at my sub-33 skill level, then would you believe the distaste for EN cheating if it came from the world-first AP on Kusaregedou to Chocolate? Incidentally, I assure you he's got nothing to be jealous of: after all, he's going to Tokyo for Spring CS and rubbing shoulders with HPS and the rest of the Sekai gods.
(5) "It's just a game, why would anyone cheat on Sekai?"
If you've ever heard a variation of the common schoolyard boast (or jokes about it) "my dad works at Nintendo / Game Freak / Activision / [insert AAA video game company here]", the answer is: it’s for exactly the same reason immature people have lied since the dawn of society — attention and self-esteem. Of course they gain nothing from this, it is just a game, after all — but kids literally lie just to win arguments as petty and easily-forgotten as those in a schoolyard. Why would Sekai be the first skill-based game (of many, many rhythm games out there) immune to this?
(6) "It's just a game, calm down lol"
I genuinely struggled to write an answer to this without getting a bit irritated; I’ve seen this so many times in so many places for so many wrong reasons. But what’s wrong with being passionate about a game? What’s wrong with wanting the pastime you settle into after a stressful day of work or school to be a fair playing ground? Why shouldn’t a game be taken seriously when competitive PvP games fuel multi-billion industries, have university scholarships, and round-the-clock teams and sport scientists analyzing them, and ignite the passions of people just as intensely as any “traditional” sport?
“Because that’s esports, and this is just Sekai”? Here, tell me you can’t feel the room shake when Mita APs Brand New Day live on stream.
What’s wrong with being passionate about something in the same way others, you included, are passionate about things besides Sekai – enough to be offended if someone said this exact same thing to you? What’s wrong with wanting fairness for one thing and not another?
(7) "Trust the cheat detection!"
I hate to have to say this, I really do, but automated cheat detection for EN is TERRIBLE. It might not even exist. As evidence I'd like to point towards some of the more infamous cheaters: the T2 for Mesmerized by Mermaids in EN. There are some pretty damning threads from long-time tierers that have explained the point in much more detail than I could eloquently say. Now, this exact cheater was defended by someone using the exact same argument I'm about to reply to, and it's just as fallacious now as it was then.
Allow me to explain exactly why "trust the cheat detection" doesn't fly.
- T2, as the threads I've linked demonstrate, was clearly botting, and did so for the entire week the event ran. So why didn't the supposed "cheat detection" pick this up? Why was T2 allowed to play all the way until the EVENT ENDED? Why was the event title AWARDED to T2, denying the T4 (nara) the T3 as a result?
- The appeal to authority argument particularly disgusts me because of one thing: JP has had its own issues with cheaters of a different nature: those who share accounts so that they can tier 24/7 with no downtime. The example I know of is from Unnamed Harmony: not only did they outright admit to account sharing (and insinuated that the t2 who lost was probably also cheating), they weren't banned. I use JP as an example for this reason: JP, which actually, proactively bans botters in Rank Match, still has cheaters that are left completely alone. How then, can you expect EN to have better scrutiny when even botters need a public outcry and a LOT of angry support desk mails just to get one T2 banned? (oh, and come back, and get that account banned too, and admit to committing about 7k euros worth of chargeback fraud…) No offense, but EN can't even herd its official discord channels together; how am I supposed to believe they have time for botters?
T2 Mermaids is hardly the only example there is — only the most notorious one. But if even the cases of people high enough to be in the ranking spotlight take so much effort to call out (no thanks to people spouting uneducated defenses and convincing enough people), how much more botters who just roam the wilds with all perfects that show with 0 notes hit?
Put another way: why use a tiering cheater as an example for skill-based cheating when tiering skill boils down to whoever has the stamina to slap Envy for the longest time? Answer: they use the same tools. The person running around with an EmpErroR AP in public rooms may be doing it to show off, while a tiering cheater may be doing it so they doesn’t lose sleep or struggle the same way their competitors do, but the means are (almost) always the same: a machine does the work for them. And if the game isn’t banning one of them… how can you be confident they’re banning the other?
“Well, that was months ago! They’re better now, I hope!”
The proof is in the pudding. If you’re right, then I’d be happier than anyone else.

SPOTTING CHEATERS:

Besides the whole "they get really defensive" / [insert argument above] things listed above, there are a few more tells that really go a long way towards sniffing out a cheater, and I'd like to go over some of them here (since they didn't really fit naturally into the counterarguments presented above). I'll skip over directly critiquing their results in the case that a prospective cheater reads this and takes notes on how to avoid getting caught.
Now, a little disclaimer, for fairness: most of the posts I’m aware of don’t actually involve the cheaters themselves risking getting caught on here, and so the uses for such red flags may not be easily applicable. But all the same, they go hand-in-hand with the (fallacious) defenses for cheaters, and it’s important to know what you’re looking for when someone inevitably comes here asking why they got banned (for “no reason”) assuming EN is any trustworthy when Rank Match hits.
Keep in mind: each of these ALONE does not mean someone is a cheater — it's when red flags like these, ALONG with refusing to provide videographic proof, come together, that someone becomes more and more suspicious.
(1) Unrealistic timeframes for improvement
Let's not mince words here: the highest levels of Sekai are HARD. As in, it competes with "pure" rhythm games like Arcaea, Lanota, Phigros, Cytus, Dynamix, CHUNITHM, maimai, ONGEKI… levels of hard. Sekai itself is unusually hard for a popular rhythm game (sorry Tokyo 7th Sisters, no one knows you) with funny PNGs you roll and pay for, in a market where the closest competition (and therefore most people's previous frames of reference for existing difficulty) is Bandori or Enstars. And, well, no offense… but Bandori doesn't have six Hell or Hell SPs (and it took THIS long to release the 33+ specials…) and a release schedule that promises more every three months, like we're getting with Yaminabe and Jinsei. As for Enstars? Two years to release Awakening Myth and Seishun Emergency SP (and they’re only roughly as hard as ~32lv. Sekai charts).
What this results in are cheaters who grossly underestimate the time needed to get to Sekai's highest level. You might hear things like "i was up all night / week / month getting this omg my fingers are so tired". To use an example from sekaicord / experience: most players who commit to the improvement grind tend to find that they'll improve really quickly from 26 to 30 — and then hit a major wall at Lv31, where the difficulty then spikes exponentially. The average time it takes legitimate players to go from Lv31 to 32? Six months or more. 32 to 33? You'll be lucky or just insanely good if it takes you six months.
Anyone claiming to be the exception to this pattern, put simply, needs the proof. People are willing to believe someone’s good if they can see someone play good.
(2) Not recognizing patterns when questioned
An actual story about a banned cheater from sekaicord: they claimed to have AP'd Don't Fight the Music on Master, and immediately fell through when people started asking them about patterns from other charts, including Hibana and KING. The issue? They were told that those patterns were from Don't Fight the Music. This is pretty much self-explanatory: you'd at least be expected to know the charts you're claiming to have beaten!
But besides that, people who have pulled off such feats (hell, pretty much anyone) always has a devil of their own. Everyone has That One Pattern they find, and which they hate. And if you're a devilish enough little Pattern (hello Greenlights / Bitter Choco Decoration), you'll be so absolutely evil that everyone will know you, not the other way around. Someone who picks out a pattern that is pretty obviously free to someone actually at that skill level OR doesn't have a least favorite pattern at all tends to stink from a mile away.
(3) Low-quality / vague explanations and/or misuse/lack of terminology/jargon
A common trope in TV shows, video games, and so on is a smart character (usually a scientist) who launches into a convoluted explanation with a LOT of jargon you're not supposed to understand, before a character stops them and says you're making my brain hurt. While silly, this trope has some basis in the fact that people who are good at something tend to be really passionate about it, and often won't hesitate to explain in a lot of detail exactly how they pull off what they do. The same almost always goes for rhythm game players — it's common for people who have just conquered a chart in sekaicord to follow up their FC / AP screenshot with a long-ass postmortem of the parts they hated the most, the strategy that finally got them through it, and pretty much everything in between.
As a cheater, it would be pretty difficult to emulate this. There's no adrenaline rush as you get through the part that you've been struggling on for weeks, possibly months, no sitting down staring at a chart viewer cursing the disgustingly hard part, no detailed "L-R-L-R(index)-R(middle)" big brain strategy just to pass something extremely cursed. There is nothing to explain. Most often, you will get "i was just shaking throughout it's all so hard", "uhhh i just mashed as hard as i possibly could" “go watch a video instead of bothering me” without reference to a specific pattern, and almost no way to describe their solution in terms any reasonably practiced regular would be familiar with. Did you jack this part here? Two fingers or multiple? Is there a BPM divisor that helps you get the rhythm down on this?
Let's go back to the 005saikou Arcaea example I mentioned earlier. Pretty much anyone at that level will have thoughts about their own achievements, and which parts they found hardest to conquer; look at the pinned comment (translation of the CCs) on his Testify video and see just how detailed they can get. I'm not saying everyone has to get to that level of detail, but someone with practically nothing to say about their achievements AND no video either is a serious red flag.

A brief conclusion

Why I took the time to write all of this is pretty simple: I would very much like if people were more aware of the players they're defending who don't deserve to be defended. Not only are there legitimate players out there much more deserving of your attention, but there's also a glut of illegitimate ones out there cruising along with the potential to make Ranked Match completely unplayable if we're just going to sit here and pretend it's not a problem. Perhaps you’re thinking it’s not going to be a problem for you if you only stay in Bronze / Silver / Gold / Plat. Good for you, but then that leaves Diamond and Mastery completely unplayable wastelands fit only for people who jump onto sites-that-shall-not-be-named for modded apps. Pretty much every time I talk to a JP player about EN and the prospect of ranked match, I universally hear back the words “cheating” and smell the implication that there’s no point to even touching it. There’s already so few legitimately skilled players on EN (let alone those who aren’t simply imported / previously JP players) and the last thing EN needs is to drive those players away.
Genuine question: If the playerbase is capable of raising enough of a stink to get an entire event memory-holed out of existence (I have not forgotten RMD), please tell me why it's not possible to push the devs to take action on people who will undermine the legitimacy of an entire game mode? It's easy enough to ignore if you're just running around co-op getting event points and can forget about someone who's not playing the game, but in a game mode whose basis is a fair and even competition between two players, surely there's some reason to get them to do something.
Call me jealous, salty, misguided, whatever you want, but if at the end of the day this post has you thinking a bit more critically about why people can be so suspicious of others (and why it's more legitimate than just jealousy), then writing it will have been worth something. Please, don’t throw these words by the wayside, and keep a more critical eye out for the people you meet, be it in ordinary rooms, on social media, or, well… on Ranked Match. If you could do something about RMD, you can do something about cheaters.
If you’ve gotten this far, thanks for your attention and time.

First Previous
Chapter 2: Now Is Found
​
The moment the Into the Black entered Sol, the human’s home system, various transmissions and radio signals poured in. At first, the captain and the rest of the crew thought that humanity was well and truly alive. But upon closer inspection of the deluge of signals they were receiving, they realized they were nothing more than automated warnings, echoes, and ghost signals bouncing around the countless derelict ships, stations, habitats, and arcologies that surrounded nearly every world and moon in the system. The place was a mass grave, far greater than any of the previous systems. In fact, this system was the most developed Ohmata had ever seen. The Galactic Union’s capital is the most advanced system in the GU, and it pales compared to the level of development of the human home system!
The sheer amount of death and destruction was frightening. Entire fleets worth of ships clumped together in the void of space. Their own mass creating a small gravity, pulling them together and fashioning massive hulks. While also creating hazardous clouds of metal debris, more than a few moving fast enough to rip the Black to shreds, should they not be vigilant. Constructs the size of cities floated aimlessly, stuck within the confines of the star’s influence. Mobile defense platforms, which once bristled with the finest weapons humanity could field, lay battered and broken amongst the many wrecks that called Sol home. Humanity did not go down without a fight, that much was for certain. If anyone ever called them cowards, Ohmata would simply show them the recorded footage of their home system to prove the naysayers otherwise.
There looked to be more metal strewn about from the battles and destroyed ships alone than in every GU fleet combined, and more than a few worlds, too. The difference in the ships was obvious. The human vessels were boxy, utilitarian. They did their jobs, and they did them well. Many of which appeared to be nothing more than massive guns someone built a ship around, then put more guns on that.
The Nemesis were different; they weren’t boxy and rigid angles like the humans, but not totally smooth either. They had a far more organic look with multiple bends and curves, but the surfaces seemed to be rough and bumpy, and unlike the human ships, almost none were symmetrical. But though they were asymmetrical, there existed patterns in the various derelicts. As if they were variations of preexisting models, updated and expanded upon with time. In comparison, most GU ships were a happy medium. They had the bends and curves like the Nemesis, but were neatly symmetrical like the human ships.
Looking past the destruction and death, the system was fairly average. Four rocky worlds, four gas giants, and several smaller bodies here and there. The gas giants still had the broken remains of floating cities scattered across them, while their moons contained colonies and stations galore. But what was most interesting were the third and fourth rocky worlds. The fourth one had depressingly little green on it. It was mostly red, with an occasional white streak indicating clouds. It was highly developed, ruined cities ranged across its surface freely. But it bore the marks of war none the less. It would be a prime candidate for collecting samples, as long as the surface wasn’t too hazardous. Humanity did have a fetish for nuclear annihilation towards their end, after all.
The third planet, the third planet was something else. It was a grey husk devoid of life. Its moon had a massive crater denting its facade, with many smaller ones marking its surface. They stood out prominently. Fresh wounds of war contrasted against natural meteor strikes. The debris from the lunar surface and whatever had caused the impact was already starting to form the semblance of a ring around the planet. And like everywhere else, the surrounding space was choked with battle debris, though most had collected in the planet’s “proto ring”. There was so much debris that they could barely scan the planet, and what parts they could get to was so irradiated that a signal couldn’t penetrate from such a distance. Which meant if they wanted to scan the home world of these legendary humans, they would have to get closer. Which, frankly, was currently impossible.
“Nix’Fa, can you maneuver through that debris field?” Ohmata asked, while peering down at her console.
“No ma’am. A shuttle may get through, but it won’t have any of the equipment necessary to scan the planet. At least, not at any reasonable rate,” Nix’Fa replied. She, too, was looking over her console at potential flight paths.
First Lieutenant Qhaax spoke up from her station. “We may not need to actually scan the planet to learn more about humanity, captain. Most of the planet is a flattened, irradiated death pit, but the debris field around it still contains warships from both sides, some in remarkable condition. In fact, several derelicts appear to still have power, even after thousands of years. We may be able to board them using a shuttle and extract data from any intact computer systems we find. And while not exactly human, there is a Nemesis ship relatively close to the edge of the field. It would be a good first target.”
“Then we’ll change our plan to that. Qhaax, contact Kitern and tell her to get her marines suited up, send a techy or two and some researchers with them as well. You’ll have to contact Tentzonta to get her to let some of her engineers loose for once, and Glevar for her researchers. Though you won’t have to convince her, she’ll be jumping at the opportunity. Nix’Fa, start plotting them a course, and we’ll go from there, understood?”
The two responded with a crisp, yes ma’am, and got to work on their respective tasks.
-
“Kitern, can you hear me?” Ohmata’s voice called out from Kitern’s suit’s comms.
“Loud and clear, cap, whatcha need?” Commander Kitern responded as she stowed away several more energy cells for her weapon. She was a digitigrade, feline like mammal known as a Lioranian, with thick paw like hands that held deadly claws within them. They were still thin and nimble enough to manipulate objects accurately, but most importantly, pull a trigger. Her kind also had a slightly elongated snout, long tail, and top forward facing ears. Their eyes were dark, but a few bore mutations which lightened the iris to a sky blue. And their pupils are vertical, but would dilate periodically to give better depth perception and low light visibility. Her species’ coats ranged from a dark tan to a bright yellow gold and had multiple coat patterns of varying intensities. She personally had a dusty tan coat with slight stripe markings originating from her spine, but quickly fading as they reached around to her abdomen and chest.
“You already have a basic rundown about what to do. But I just wanted to remind you, we marked an entrance for you through some old battle damage on a derelict Nemesis ship that is close to the edge of the debris field. Enter, make your way to the power source, secure the area, and set up a pressurized zone if possible so the techies can work in peace. If you can’t, oh well, they can work in their suits. Also, you see anything living, as unlikely as that is, don’t go shooting it. Try to capture or reason with it, but if it does anything stupid, then do what you and your girls do best.”
Kitern smiled maliciously. “Aye, aye, captain. We’ll keep the civvies alive and kick’n, get the goods and be back in no time.”
“Then I leave the rest to you. Oh, try not to mess with the shuttle’s controls while it’s on autopilot this time. It’ll be weaving through a debris field too compact to get the Black into. Any rescue efforts will take a long time, longer than what you’ll have, so don’t touch the throttle like last time!” Ohmata raised her voice jokingly, playfully reminding Kitern of the last time they were on a shuttle together in such conditions.
“Ha! Dontcha worry, I’ll be in the back. Onsa will be in the pilot’s seat for this go. She’s a better flyer anyways,” Kitern played.
“Alright then, get done and come back, preferable alive. Ohmata out.” There was a click as Ohmata closed the channel.
“Hmph, always do.” Kitern had been staring at a random wall while talking to Ohmata. With the call over, she turned to her squad. “Alright girls, get your shit together and get to the shuttle. Oh, and keep your hands to yourself, Hran is coming along, I don’t want any complaints from him, or hands where they shouldn’t be, got it?” she barked, eyeing each of the three other marines, more specifically the youngest two.
“What if he lets us?” one of said marines asked jokingly.
“It’ll be a cold day on Ca’tab before that happens, Asteli,” Kitern replied.
“You never know, we might just wear him down finally, right Gre’Namra?” the perky Venanian replied.
“How many times do I have to tell you? Just call me Namra, and I doubt it. Men like to be wined and dined. Take them out, pay for a fancy meal, maybe buy them something. You know, the usual,” her counterpart, a Drae’Ildan, responded.
Kitern sighed. “Or how about not harassing anyone and act like a decent sentient, you hornbags? Now, shut it and get to the shuttle. Dentala you’ll have your work cut out for you keeping track of these two today.”
“Not as big of a job as keeping track of you, I pity Onsa,” Dentala said as she lifted a heavy kinetic slugger with a red hand, another Venanian.
Kitern chuffed deeply, her species version of a chuckle. “Me too! But, you might wanna put on a glove before we go out. Might help with the whole vacuum thing.” Dentala looked at her hand, surprised that she had forgotten it, before slipping one on. It attached to her bracer and made an airtight seal, forming an armored gauntlet. With that, the four marines left to join their fifth member in the shuttle.
As they left the locker room, Asteli mumbled under her breath. “We wouldn’t do that. We’re not assholes,” she said, addressing Kitern’s assertion of harassment.
“Well, you sound like one,” Gre’Namra replied quietly. After that, they kept their heads down and trudged along with their commanding officer.
A short jaunt later, they were passing through the hangar bay’s airlock. They were greeted by the Black’s only two shuttles. One, small and cramped, meant for scanning dangerous locations that they couldn’t get to with the ship. Logically, that would mean it was best suited to scan Earth. But even its equipment was not powerful enough to breach the radiation. Not without descending into the planet's atmosphere and becoming so irradiated they would practically glow in the dark. And while they could get Aphosi to pilot the shuttle remotely, its scanners aren't able to scan such a broad area like an entire planet. They were more meant to target small, specific locations.
The second shuttle was much larger. It was built to transport supplies and the handful of rovers they had in storage, to make excursions to planets. The smaller shuttle had permanently extended wings and large thrusters on the rear. The larger of the two, simply dubbed Shuttle One, could fold its wings. And had a variety of thrusters located across the ship for better maneuverability in space, and atmospheric thrusters embedded in the center of each wing for flight in atmo. But it also had two large engines in the back for forward thrust, just above its rear ramp.
Walking over to shuttle one, Onsa, the other Lioranian in the squad, was already waiting for them in the pilot’s seat. In the rear seating area were two engineers and two scientists, wearing grey, lightly armored EVA suits that looked to be made of cloth, but were instead a variety of advance polymers and flexible but insulative materials. Most of the helmet was a large, one way transparent material, allowing for increased awareness while sacrificing protection. In comparison, the marine’s helmets had no exterior window, instead a suite of miniature sensors embedded in their black armored helmets allowed them to see through an internal display screen. The helmets appeared to be smooth metal from a distance, only up close could you see the microscopic sensors embedded in them.
The marine’s suits held many of the same features as the civilians, but were black and had thick armored plates over vital areas and on select parts of their extremities, with thinner, non-metal armor segments filling in the gaps. Both suit types had an array of pockets and hideaways, each holding their respective tools of the trade. Regardless of the accessories, or level of protection, each was specially crafted to accommodate for the unique physiologies of the different species.
Had the ship and its equipment not made with each of their species in mind, they would have worn generic multi species suits. Instead of the pre-built features tailored for their specific anatomy, they would be covered with a thick insulated, pliable material that fitted over the horns, tails, and crests and shrank until it was tightly pressed against every nook and cranny. Aside from personalized helmets, each species’ leg sections and gloves/gauntlets catered for whether they were plantigrade, digitigrade, or for how many digits they may possess.
Hran being a male Venanian, had small horns jutting out from his temples. But because his horns were so small, his helmet did not need any special features. Thus was fairly plain. It looked like a sphere that had been slightly squished in on the sides. Unlike the females of his species, who had much larger, curved horns, their helmets were marked with two twin armored segments sticking up like antenna. Otherwise, their helmets were just as “stubby” as his, for their flatter faces. At least, in comparison to the other species onboard.
The Shednae with their elaborate head crests and long faces, had a stubby mohawk like metal protrusion for their crests to fit in, and longer helmets to account for their heads. The Drae’Ildan’s helmets were similar to the Shednae. In fact, they could be mistaken for one another if not for the lack of a head crest. Lastly, the Lioranian helmets were quite plain, aside from the extended “snout” for their slightly longer faces and two nubs to house their ears located on the top of their heads.
Those with tails were likewise afforded a special area to put them, instead of the shrinking material normal for such species. The Shednae have a small knob like space for their short tails. While the Venanians and Lioranians had long thin tails, they could be coiled in the suit. Drae’Ildan suits had a much longer and thicker tail section that looked burdensome but was quite flexible. Their suits were also equipped with a much larger array of sensors to assist them, as the Drae’Ildan’s natural sensory organs were significantly dulled in such tight confines.
“I see the grunts have finally made their appearance. Why did you bother bringing so many guns with you? It’s a derelict that has been floating dead in space for thousands of cycles. There won’t be anything living on board.”, one of the engineers nagged, as the marines ducked into the shuttle. Though her helmet was on, it was clear she was a part of engineering by the orange stripe running along the left of her suite, and left sleeve. Mimicking their uniforms.
“And a fine hello to you Kass, you too, Hran,” Kitern said as she sat down across from the two Venanians and buckled in. Hran simply nodded silently. Kitern continued, “And as for your question, we have no idea what we’ll find. You want to be stuck out in space with no way of protecting yourself if something is there? Yeah, I’m sure it’s empty too. Doesn’t mean I’m taking any chances.” Kass snorted at her reply.
“Shavizi, Jurwa, what about you two, think we’ve over prepared?” Kitern asked the two scientists to her left. Their stripes were blue.
“One can never be too prepared! Though the heavy slugger seems a bit excessive, but as long as you don’t drop it on me, I have no complaints,” Jurwa, a Shednae, said gleefully, practically bouncing in her seat.
“I agree, organic enemies aside. The ship may have automated defenses still functioning. If so, they will have to be dealt with accordingly.” Shavizi added. Yet another Venanian.
“See Kass, they get it,” Kitern grinned smugly underneath her helmet as she leaned back and buckled herself in.
As the others sat down and buckled in, Onsa turned in her seat to see if they were all ready. Everyone confirming they were. She turned back around and started up the shuttle. Quickly putting it into autopilot, but still keeping her hands on the controls just in case. The shuttle slipped out of the bay, passing through the atmospheric retention field, and pitching down and to the left, heading for the derelict Nemesis ship.
As the debris field is so dense and dangerous, the Into the Black was several hundred kilometers away, clear of any potential danger. As such, the trip would take around five minutes before they reached the field, another six to navigate the debris, as it was so hazardous. The Nemesis ship in question was near the edge of the debris field, but still mostly intact, with some power readings emanating from within, a perfect target for research.
-
“We’re coming alongside it now. Once we have successfully magnetized to its hull with the docking clamps, I’ll decompress the shuttle and you can open him up,” Onsa called out, just barely turning her head back in their direction.
Kitern activated her comms so everyone could hear her clearly once the air was siphoned out. “Gotcha. Scans show two distinct points of power readings. Both look to be in the same place, or at least really damn close. We’ll take a right once we get into the ship and follow the corridor until it leads to a three-way intersection. Then we make a left, then a right, and we’ll be on track. The room in question will be along that corridor. Keep your eyes and sensors open for anything that looks Nemesis-y.”
“Oh, like the entire ship?” Kass chimed in.
Kitern rolled her eyes. “Onsa, give a countdown.”
Onsa nodded her head. “Affirmative. Decompression commencing in three… two… one… starting.” There was an audible hiss that slowly faded away as the air in the shuttle was pulled back into storage tanks for later use. “Decompression complete, safe to open the door,” she confirmed over their comms.
“Opening door. Don’t go floating off,” Kitern joked as she pressed a button near the hatch, causing it to slide open silently. Before them was a gaping hole in the side of what looked like a ship that had grown large warts. The human beacons had mentioned that the Nemesis ships weren’t smooth, but the reality was a bit more unsettling up close. The humans weren’t sure why the Nemesis ships were so… bumpy. But they knew it wasn’t actually part of the building process, as newly refurbished or repaired Nemesis vessels lacked the warty exterior. But they had seen no importance in investigating the reason, as they had no tactical or structural advantage. Humanity theorized they were damage, but what could cause metal to ripple and bubble? So it remains a mystery to this day.
Kitern lifted a foot, causing the magnetic lock on that boot to disengage automatically, then re-engage when she put pressure on it. Allowing her to walk forward until she was looking down into the hole. Kitern put a foot on the lip of the shuttle, and bent forward, pushing herself into the opening.
As Kitern floated into the ship, she could see the corridors were circular, with strange partitions along the edges. The partitions didn’t seem to move or close, so she guessed they were more decorative support beams than actual doorways. A second later, she put out a hand to stop herself from colliding with the far wall, and pushed downward, boots magnetizing to the floor. Upon magnetizing, she immediately lifted her weapon. It was a small energy-based firearm, similar in size and function to an SMG.
Looking down both directions of the corridor showed nothing of interest other than more of those strange support beams and closed bulkhead doors on either end. She noted the twisted metal and battle damage in the corridor caused by whatever had impacted the hull.
Before everyone had touched down, she started making her way toward their objective. She continued on until she reached the bulkhead door at the end of the corridor. It was not fully closed, only partially, allowing someone to grip between the two sections and pull them apart. She did just that. As the door slowly opened, Dentala came up behind her and lent her strength to the task. Grunting in exertion, they pulled the door apart until they could easily walk through. Kitern silently fist bumped Dentala on the shoulder in thanks before she continued on, weapon held at the ready.
As they proceeded through the derelict, signs of battle began to appear. At first, it was only a few scorch marks or kinetic impact craters on the wall. Then, what looked like dried blood from some ancient creature. It had aged into a sickly dark green color with a hint of yellow. A quick scan showed that no genetic material could be retrieved, it had long degraded into nothing. Though some sort of information could certainty be gleamed from the stain if they searched long enough, but the sample was unimportant, as it was not a focus of the mission. Pressing on, the signs of battle intensified, as well the amount of spilled blood. At one point, an entire corridor looked like it had been painted in viscera.
The team could only speculate on what had happened. Was it a mutiny? Civil war between surviving Nemesis forces trapped in the Sol system? Or perhaps the humans had something to do with it? But there was one thing on everyone’s mind as they walked through the ancient carnage. Where were the bodies? They hadn’t passed a single corpse yet, just blood stains.
“Captain Kitern, do you suppose we can slow down and so I can scan the ship a bit more? I can’t get a proper reading while moving like this,” Shavizi requested from the back. She had some sort of tool and was waving it back and forth across the surface of the corridor.
“You can scan the ship when we stop, and that will be when we get to those power signals. And once we make sure the place is secure,” Kitern responded, weapon still up at her shoulder as she swept the hallway.
“If that is your order,” Shavizi relented, but still attempted to scan everything they passed, incomplete or not.
It didn’t take long before they arrived at where the Black said the power readings were. They had weaved about the ship a bit more than desired. Several bulkhead doors were completely sealed shut, causing them to detour, but they managed it in the end. They were now standing in front of a large single door; it was nowhere near as large as the bulkhead doors that sealed off entire corridors, but it was large enough to allow passage with room to spare on all sides.
It too bore damage from whatever conflict had occurred within the ship. The door’s access panel was damaged, and the surrounding wall panels warped. Preventing them from directly interacting with the door.
“This is the place; my scanner is already picking up power readings from here. Hran, be a dear and get out the interface tools. We’ll see if this door has power first, instead of brute forcing our way through first thing,” Kass stated. Hran silently carried out his orders, unpacking a variety of tools they may need.
After pulling off several of the panels to see if they allowed access to the door’s wiring, they eventually found the right one. Sadly, a closer inspection revealed that the door, like nearly the entire ship, had no power, meaning it couldn’t be opened by the press of a button like they wanted.
“Oh well, do what you do best, Kitern,” Kass shrugged as she and Hran began packing up their tools.
“Eh, worth a shot. Privates, if you please,” Kitern motioned to the door for the two young marines to take a crack at it. They both replied with a crisp, yes ma’am, and quickly got to work trying to pry open the door.
It took a little more effort than they thought, but over time it slowly slid further and further open, until Gre’Namra wedged herself in between the door and frame, and used her entire body to push it open. Asteli joined in when it widened enough for the both of them. Together, they pushed it fully open, the door slowly recessing into the wall. Revealing an old dusty room with several long bed-like pods.
“Thank you, girls. Now clear the room while you’re at it. Though by now any baddies would have chewed you up,” Kitern ordered. The two did just that. Thankfully, the entire room could be seen from the doorway, so there really wasn’t any clearing. Just looking behind the pods for anything not so friendly.
During their little search, they noticed one bed had several lights flickering on its side. They pointed it out to the others. Immediately, Kass and Shavizi pushed them aside to get to it. Drooling over it like children being offered sweets.
“I wonder what this is?! After so many thousands of years, it still has power. I thought those beacons were incredible enough, but this is something else!” Kass said to no one in particular.
Shavizi had been scanning the bed, as well as its neighbors, while Kass looked it over. “Hmm. The pods have a sliding covering that encloses the occupants. All the others are open, yet this one is closed.” Shavizi tapped at her scanner a bit. “Wait… the other energy signature… it’s coming from inside it!” she said astonished, while moving a hand over the top of the slid that covered the pod. As she did, thousands of years’ worth of dust floated away from where she dragged her hand. Allowing a small amount of light to break free from within.
Noticing this, Shavizi leaned forward and peered inside the pod. Her eyes went wide as her mind tried to make sense of what she was seeing. “GET BACK! DON’T TOUCH IT!” she screamed, but was too late. Kass, who was now crouched down near the base of the bed, had pressed a finger to one of the flickering lights just as Shavizi yelled her warning. All Kass had time to do was turn her head up and mutter a confused, “huh?”, before the covering of the pod slid open, unleashing its occupant onto the galaxy.
First Previous
Hello once again! First things first. If you see the name Osan, please point it out to me. It is supposed to be Onsa, but the program I use to write the story changed the name to Osan for some reason. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed the cliffhanger! This chapter is meant to help further detail the various species and their features, and of course set up for many things to come!
Also, in my last story. I had a lot of flashback sequences to add in fluff and give backstory to the MC. While I don't want overuse it in this story, I do want to have flashback esque sequences that are basically just battles of the Human-Nemesis war (recorded combat footage recovered from human ships and installations), introduce new characters, or maybe give further development to preexisting characters. The flashback sequences will be called Orphan: Tales of the Past and won't begin until a certain point in the main story. Once that point is reached, the side stories will pop up every once in a while in place of the main story chapters. Or, if I fell as if its safe to push the story ahead, you'll get the main story and a side story in one week.
That's it for the week folks! See you next week!

A slave-driving murderer had just publicly declared war on us. The cheering and applause of the people standing around us was an eerie and ominous accompaniment to the feeling of dread swelling in my chest and radiating down to my stomach. He'd captured all of them thus far. I swallowed and dropped my gaze down to the pavement as it dawned on me that all of those people had tasted freedom, and were then immediately and mercilessly hunted down and dragged back to hell.
But there was an interesting caveat there. He called us by the names O'Malley had erroneously wrote down in his ledger. The men that were chasing us that day had picked up our actual fake aliases, but then we'd killed them at the inn. It seemed that knowledge died with them– a drop of good luck in a raging downpour it seemed.
"William," I said just loud enough to catch his attention.
He turned and eyed me. "Huh? Were you talking to me?"
I lifted an eyebrow. "Yeah. Who else would I be calling William?"
He narrowed his eyes, "It's Tovin, you spaz."
I glanced around nervously. Nobody appeared to have been listening to us. I took him by the shoulder and led him away from the crowd gathered around the picture boxes. "What are you doing?" I hissed.
"What am I doing?" he scoffed. "What are you doing? You know my name. What, are you playing a game right now?"
"Our aliases," I said through my teeth. "We're using fake names, remember?"
His expression changed from annoyed and confused to forlorn and somber. He swallowed and looked away. "... I'm losing it again, aren't I?" he asked.
I remained silent. I didn't know what to say. I didn't want him to feel worse about it, but that would have been a dangerous slip-up in front of the wrong person. Before now, I was starting to think that Tovin back home had overblown how quickly the mental decline would be.
"Don't worry about it," I said finally, passing him on the sidewalk further into the city. "Come on. We need to find a way to make some money."
"And fast," he added, trailing behind me. "We need food, clothes, and a couple of beds. And more cigarettes, too. I've only got a few left and I'm trying to make them last."
We walked the mazelike streets of Bronzegirder looking for work. I wasn't used to Diesel society yet and often found myself hung up on storefront windows that marketed all kinds of gadgets and technology. I would do my best not to stare when people walked by wearing metallic pieces on their persons.
Some wore gadgets on their forearms, some on their wrists, and others in various other areas. I wondered what purpose they served, where they were sold, and how expensive they could be. And it wasn't just the gadgets. There were far more dark-skinned people here than we had in Galgia. It was something I had read about but never experienced. They ranged from light tan all the way to almost black, and it just added to the culture shock.
There appeared to be people living in the buildings above the storefronts. The tall towers we had seen in the far distance earlier served as housing as well as business space. Diesillians stood on their balconies, some hanging wet laundry, others leaning over their railing while they enjoyed a drink or a smoke. We passed so many things I would have wanted to stop and look at were we not being hunted. DuPonte seemed awfully sure of himself when he said he'd find us, but for the life of me, I couldn't imagine how one would find antything they were looking for in this city.
"I'm totally lost," I admitted. "We need a map or something."
He remained quiet. I turned to speak to him more directly only to find that he wasn't behind me anymore. My stomach dropped as I looked around at the sea of people.
"William?" I called out. "William!"
It was no good. I'd have to literally scream if I wanted to breach the drone of the crowd, and I couldn't afford to draw too much attention to myself. There was also the possibility that he'd forgotten his name again anyway. I adjusted the straps of my backpack and sighed deeply before doubling back. He couldn't have wandered too far away, and he'd be easy to spot against the horde of people in more modern clothing.
I kept close to the storefronts as I picked up my pace. I began to peer into each store as I passed them. The longer I searched, the more I worried. He wasn't in his right mind. He'd get himself noticed and captured if he let too much slip, or pulled down his hood. I came to the turn we had taken after we'd left the picture boxes. He was with me at this point, I was sure of it. I turned around and swallowed as I scanned the crowd.
This was really, really, bad.
"William?" I tried again. I decided to cross the street and nearly got run over by one of their vehicles. It screeched to a stop and when I lowered my arms, I found the front of the metallic machine inches from my face.
"Git the fuck oudda da road!" shouted the pilot, shaking his fist in the air. I quickly scurried onto the opposite sidewalk and made my way down the street with the flow of the crowd. I kept my eyes peeled as I walked. It was difficult to see over everyone's shoulders. Diesillians were a good deal taller than Galgians as a rule, and it made it a nightmare for an average-sized guy like myself. Just when I was about to start asking around, something caught my ear.
Something I never expected to hear– music.
I stopped in my tracks and the public parted around me like a river around a boulder. I turned toward the sound and followed my ears to a large silver pavilion nestled between two tall buildings. It looked like an empty lot that had been designed for another tall building but instead served as some sort of inner-city courtyard where live entertainment performed.
I slowly approached as a woman stood in front of a mic stand singing while a band performed with shining metallic instruments behind her. She had black hair styled in a way I'd never seen hair styled. It was pulled up and around under a hat and shined the same as her red lipstick did. But what awed me the most was that she was singing.
No danger; no combat; no sign of beasts being summoned forth. She sang beautifully, adding something to music that I had never in my life once considered because in Galgia, to sing was to slaughter. Music was a tool of war and forbidden entirely outside of such circumstances, for if one of us were even to hum, anything could come crawling out of the resulting portal.
But here she was, singing what I presumed were the words to a poem in perfect rhythm and harmony with the band that played behind her.
"You're my machine, my heart's ignition. The gears that keep my love in motion. You're the engine that never tires– the pistons set my soul on fire."
I was completely taken in. It was therefore no surprise to me that here in the crowd, I spotted Tovin watching her with equal admiration from the edge of the stage. I weaved through the crowd as politely as I was able and then stopped next to him. He glanced at me before quickly returning his eyes back to the stage. I didn't say anything to him; no words needed said so long as she was singing.
"You, my dear, a love machine, the one that keeps my bearings clean– I'm addicted to your engine's roar, your power's what I'm living for."
I wasn't a hundred percent sure what she was talking about, but it was clearly a love song written for one lucky guy. When the song was finished, she ever so slightly lifted her ruby-red dress from the sides and took a bow. The crowd clapped, a few whistles coming from somewhere behind us.
"Thank you," she said softly into the mic. "It's important to remember that love conquers all," she said, passing her deep black eyes over us. "Hatred fades over time, but love lasts; it endures. This next song is about a long lost love and reconnection."
We stayed and listened to a couple more songs before she left the stage, and the band with her. She disappeared on promises of returning tomorrow for a second show. Of all the things thus far I had seen in the land of our enemy, something so sweet as non-weaponized music ranked among the most surprising and awe-inspiring.
As the crowd began to disperse back onto the main street, I turned to Tovin. "Hey, do me a favor and don't disappear like that. I didn't know where you were and we've got to stick together."
"Can we come back here tomorrow?" he asked, completely ignoring what I'd said. He stared at me with hopeful eyes, a small smile on his face. It still felt strange of him to ask me permission for anything, but I couldn't deny that it was a pretty magical performance.
"Only if we live that long," I answered with a heaping helping of snark. "We need money so we can get off these streets tonight. Come on, we're losing daylight."
He looked past my shoulder and suddenly pointed. "What about that?"
I turned to see a bulletin board posted on the side of a building not far from us. On it were several posts, but one of them specifically read, "200 Octim Sign-On Bonus." The two of us walked up the board and looked over the job.
"There's a sign-on bonus," Tovin said as his eyes moved down the paper. "The Empress needs you. Galgian dogs sent monsters to run amok in our fair empire. Officials are spread thin amidst heightened tensions with Galgia's military. Find and kill monsters for bounties. Seek employment at the Hunters' Barracks at 443 Alloy Avenue on the north side of town. Look for the men in uniform."
"Monsters?" I asked. "There aren't any monsters in Galgia. None in all of Aurii if our textbooks are accurate."
"You want to at least check it out?" he asked.
"I think we'd be wasting our time," I said dismissively. "We hiked through a bunch of wilderness closer to the Galgian border and we didn't see anything all night."
He folded his arms. "Then let's get our sign-on bonus and leave."
That was such a fantastic point that I pushed my palm against my forehead and visibly cringed. "Oof. Why am I so dumb?" I whined.
"I don't think you're dumb," Tovin said as he moved down the bulletin board to look at other flyers. "I think you're just honest to a fault. It never would have occurred to you to do something so underhanded."
I would never get used to compliments from Tovin. It was like watching a different person wear his body and speak with his voice. Had life at ENU really been such a drag on him?
"None of these other jobs are offering money upfront," he added, turning to face me. "Let's head to the north side of town and see if we can find Alloy Avenue."
x - - x - - x - - ★ - - x - - x - - x
The walk was long and difficult– not because it was too far, but because we had to pass so much delicious-smelling food along the way. I hadn't been sure before if Tovin was as hungry as I was, but the north side of Bronzegirder was quiet enough to hear both of our stomachs growling in concert with one another. The buildings were made of brick in the district we wandered through, and the walkways were closer to cobblestone like the kind we had back home. The roads were three times as wide, there were benches along the walkways, and they had planted trees caged in black iron gates at the trunks. The few people that strolled the sidewalks on Alloy Avenue were well-to-do, dressed in expensive-looking suits and wearing high hats with wide brims.
"I like this side of town better," Tovin said as we looked for building addresses. "Though I have to say, I'm surprised to see trees in the collossity."
"Goes a little against what we were taught doesn't it?" I asked.
"I don't recall being taught anything," he grumbled. "It's just another thing I somehow know."
I cast him a sympathetic glance and he didn't seem to like it. He scowled at me, "Don't you pity me."
"I'm not," I rolled my eyes. "I'd never feel bad for you Tovin, not in a thousand years."
"Just shut up," he snapped. "We're here."
He stopped in front of a brick building with an impressive stone staircase that had bronze handrails running up the length of them. At the top were two men in uniform just as the flyer had indicated. He was the first to start up the steps and I quickly followed behind him. As we passed them I took a good look at their uniforms. I could have sworn that I'd seen them somewhere before. We walked up to the glass doors and pulled them open.
A blast of warm air blew over us as we entered the building and it was a welcome reprieve from the cold. Inside was smaller than I had anticipated. I was expecting high ceilings, murals, metal artwork, and all kinds of stuff from how nice the outside looked. Instead, we found ourselves standing in a dirty lobby about the size of a headmaster's office. There were several rows of chairs dotted with people filling out forms on clipboards. At the back of the lobby was a little window with a man sitting on the other side. He was dark-skinned, had a shaved head, and bore a grisly pink scar across his cheek. He waved us forward when he noticed us.
"Let me do the talking," I whispered to Tovin, taking the lead in front of him as we made our way over; he didn't protest.
"Afternoon, gentlemen," he spoke into a microphone that relayed his voice to us through a little black device on the window. "Thinking about joining up?"
Before I could even speak, Tovin leaned onto the counter. "So when you say monsters," he adopted a skeptical look. "You mean like the ones that don't exist?"
The man behind the counter rolled his eyes. "Oh, great, another conspiracy theorist."
"What did you call me?" Tovin shot back.
"Ahhh, ha ha," I called out loudly, pulling Tovin back by his shoulder. "My brother is better at fighting than talking," I covered quickly. "Just talk to me from here on in."
He cast me a disinterested glance before handing us both clipboards with forms attached. "Whatever. Just read the whole thing and sign the liability waiver at the bottom. He's free to deny their existence while they're chewing his face off, but the empire won't be responsible for it."
I took both of the clipboards and passed one to Tovin. The two of us sat down and began going through them– and immediately, we faced a problem. They wanted first and last names, home addresses, medical history, and something called landline numbers. Tovin and I exchanged glances; this wasn't going to work.
I stood up and slowly walked back up to the counter as I looked over the document. Every time I looked, it seemed more and more ridiculous. Blood type? Social security number? Insurance provider? I didn't know what any of this meant. It might as well have been in an entirely different language.
"Did you have a question?" asked the man behind the counter.
"Yeah, I don't have most of this information," I said, setting the clipboard down on the counter. "Sorry, but we're gonna have to just go."
"Well, hang on now," he said, reaching under the little pass-through window and retrieving the clipboard. "I take it you boys are homeless then?" he asked.
"Uhh... Yeah," I answered tentatively. Did they really have such a homeless problem that he was able to jump to that conclusion so quickly? "We don't know how to answer these questions, so thanks anyways."
"I said hang on, dammit," he called through the mic before swiveling around in his chair and pulling some kind of lever underneath it that caused it to sink lower to the floor. He opened a cabinet and began rifling through it. I peered through the window at his chair– it was on some kind of ball axis that allowed him to spin in it freely. I felt like every couple of minutes I was seeing something I'd never seen before. He swiveled back around and lifted his chair back up before he handing me a new form. It was more like a strip of paper with three questions on it.
Shirt size, shoe size, and pant size.
There was a second slip of paper underneath it. I looked back up at the window attendant as Tovin appeared next to me. I handed him the slip of paper and we exchanged glances.
"The empire isn't being picky right now," spoke the man through the speaker. "You'll be assigned a number, a gun, and a uniform. You won't be eligible for emergency care, and you can't be assigned to a party. It'll be just the two of you. If you're still interested, we need all the help we can get."
I shrugged at Tovin, and he got to work filling out the information. I leaned on the counter and jotted down my uniform size before signing the waiver and handing everything back. He took both of the documents and then nodded toward the door on his right. "Come on back."
He reached under the table and did something that caused the door to make a whirring sound. It popped open on its own, and he thumbed us over to it. "Close it on your way in. Walk straight down the hall and through the third door on your left. Your hunter number is 27B and his is 28B."
We walked down the hallway and found the designated door already opened and with a sign on the inside that read, "Uniforms HERE" with an arrow pointing into the room. We were met by a portly woman with bouncy curls that hung down to her shoulders. She sat behind a desk absolutely surrounded by hanging uniforms, all kept in clear covering. She sized us up with a retractable ruler– the coolest ruler I had ever seen. After she took our measurements, she began sifting through uniforms.
"Why did they ask us for our sizes if they were going to measure us?" Tovin grumbled.
"I don't know," I whispered. "Just be quiet."
"Don't tell me to be quiet," he shot back, elbowing me in the ribs.
She turned around holding two suits by the hangers, one in each hand. "Your uniforms will come out of your first bounty collected," she announced. "No money needed upfront. Change into them and make sure they fit." We took them from her and she breezed past us. "Holler out here when you're changed." She closed the door behind her.
We turned away from one another and began getting dressed. I pulled back the crinkly clear material and looked down at the uniform. Now that I was seeing it closer, it was actually an extremely dark shade of blue, rather than black as I had thought prior. I looked down at the hat and held it in my hands. I had seen it before. Then, all at once, it came rushing back to me.
These were the uniforms of the men that had come to the mine. They had come carrying guns to inspect the worksite after what had happened to Hammer. Skully must have thought a monster had gotten to him based on the state of his body. I stared down at the uniform in disbelief. Could monsters really be running around in Diesel territory?
"You better not be looking over here," Tovin warned.
They had mistaken what Tovin had done for a monster attack. Skully's "fonekall" wasn't a pilgrimage. It was some form of long-distance communication. She reached out to the capital to request aid from someone, and they sent these guys. I began to wonder if I was making a mistake. If we could be dispatched like that, then we could feasibly be sent back to the camp.
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. We were only in it for the sign-on bonus. Once we had that in our hands, we'd be outta here. We could even jump to the next town. They knew nothing about us other than our clothing size. We could be dust in the wind by tomorrow morning.
I shoved those thoughts to the back of my mind and quickly got dressed. The uniform fit perfectly, it was comfortable, and best of all had been designed with a high collar. It covered our neck markings perfectly. I turned to see Tovin with the hat on already. He looked like a classic Diesel villain from a comic book I had read as a kid.
"It fits nice," he said, testing the range of motion he had in his arms. "I think this will work."
"Yeah," I nodded. "Let's get our money and get the hell out."
"Speaking my language," he smirked.
He moved for the door and leaned out, calling for the attendant. I looked at myself in the full-body mirror and did a quick turnaround. I had to admit, I looked pretty darn stylish. The white gloves, belt, and hat looked pretty good against the dark blue and gold buttons.
The woman returned and smiled at both of us, her curls bouncing as she tossed her gaze cartoonishly left and right between us. "You two look good!"
"Thanks," I smiled back. "When do we get our sign-on bonus?"
"Oh, don't worry about that just yet," she said, moving back to her desk. "Do you boys know how to shoot?" she asked as she sat down.
"Shoot?" Tovin asked.
"A gun," she clarified, her smile fading. "Have either of you shot a gun?"
"No, ma'am," I answered. "Our parents didn't let us near them growing up."
"That's no problem," she said, lifting her hands. "We're happy to teach you the basics. You'll just exit the room and go left down to the very end of the hallway. I'll buzz you through the double doors at the end, and Old Mitchell will take you from there."
Tovin audibly groaned, and I took him by the arm, leading him out of the room. We walked down the hallway as he bellyached about what a waste of time it was. It was unlike him to turn his nose up at the opportunity to learn the ins and outs of a new weapon. In fact, he'd been acting weirdly childish lately. I didn't like it. It beat dealing with Tovin-Classic, but it was still a hassle. As we neared the end of the hallway, we began hearing the sound of guns being fired one by one.
The doors buckled and hummed the same as the first door had, and we pushed them open. We passed into a large room with Diesillians shooting at targets a good distance away. This was why the building was so large and the lobby was so small. The brick walls were covered in informational and safety posters, as well as what appeared to be schematics for the weapons themselves.
I looked across the large room to see a man striding toward us. He was wearing shiny black boots that were laced tightly to his calves. His pants and jacket were hunter green, and he bore perhaps the silliest mustache I'd ever seen; It was long and curled at the tips. I had to be careful not to snicker– his eyes were hidden behind dark sunglasses, and I couldn't tell if he was watching me.
"New recruits?" he called out to us from entirely too far away.
"Yes sir," I called back. "My brother and I just signed up."
"Brothers!" he exclaimed. "I love it, dammit!" He stopped in front of us. He was chewing on something and was being as obnoxious as he possibly could about it. He was wearing perhaps the stupidest hat I had seen of the Diesel yet. It had no visible brim and was high on one side while sloping down toward the other. For the life of me, I couldn't discern the purpose of it.
"You boys know how to shoot?" he asked.
"No sir," I shook my head. "We're new at this."
"Good," he smiled widely. "That means you haven't formed any bad habits yet. I love newbies," he said before waving for us to follow him. "Come on, let's get you your rifles. I'm Mitch, but folks around here call me Old Mitchell."
"James," I said as I followed after him. "This is my brother William." It was difficult to talk over the noise of the weapons. I occasionally jumped when someone shot their gun nearby– a reflex I couldn't wait to be rid of. He led us to a small room; so small that it might as well have been a glorified safe. He disappeared inside and came back out holding two guns. The same long metal tubes Tovin and I had been attacked with at O'Malley's inn.
We each took one and promptly inspected it. Suddenly, Old Mitchell stepped forward and grabbed both of our guns by the barrel, lifting them so they were pointed at the ceiling.
"You boys ever even held one of these?" he barked. "Careful where you aim. Never point one of these at anything or anyone that you're not prepared to destroy."
"They sweep you, Mitch?" asked a man as he passed behind us.
"Pointed 'em right at me," he called back with a laugh. "We'll get 'em straightened out, don't you worry about that." He looked at us both, chewing aggressively. "Now I'm gonna let these rifles go. You keep 'em pointed up, you understand?"
"Yes, sir," I answered.
"Sure," Tovin said in a disinterested tone.
He let go of our rifles and we kept them pointed at the ceiling as we were told. I looked up and down the length of the tube before turning it over and inspecting the area under the barrel. It was split underneath with what looked like some kind of spring running along the length of the tube.
"They're not loaded," Mitch said, waving for us to follow him to the other side of the room. "But you will always treat them like they are. I'm going to show you how to load them over here. Set them down on the desk, I'm gonna stand between the two of you so I can watch you both."
I set my gun down in front of me and looked to my right. There was a box of what I presumed to be bullets. I expected them to be round pellet-like projectiles, but they were tubular with roughly textured heads on them.
"Turn your weapon over. You'll notice you can see a spring inside the bottom of the barrel. Close to the other end of your gun, you'll find a little round tab there. Take that tab and push it with your thumb all the way up toward the tip of the barrel. You'll then pop it out to the side there."
I did as he asked, and sure enough, the barrel popped out to the left at the tip of the weapon. I glanced over at Tovin who was struggling with the spring. Old Mitchell moved over and helped him with it. "Sometimes they get stuck," he muttered as he got Tovin to the same step I was at.
"Now," he shouted. "Take your ammunition right there in the box next to you, and begin placing the rounds into the underside of the barrel, flat side first. Then, you'll load more bullets into the gun overlapping one another. Be careful not to let the rounds collide with one another too heavily, or you could have a little accident."
I loaded the bullets carefully one after another until the barrel was about full. He checked on Tovin's rifle, and then inspected mine.
"Good. Now realign the barrel, there and come with me to the bay," he said, starting toward the practice range. I carefully lifted the weapon and rested it against my shoulder, turning with Tovin to follow him. When we stopped at the range, he motioned for Tovin first. "Come on, Will, we're gonna start with you."
"Pass," he said nonchalantly.
Old Mitchell blinked twice. "What?"
"I want to see Gill do it first," he said, stepping out of my way.
"It's a nickname," I said quickly, stepping up to the range. "Anyways, I'll go first, I don't mind, what do I do here?"
Mitch remained silent for a couple of seconds before clapping his hands once. "Okay! Well, go ahead and pull the hammer back."
I looked down at the weapon and then back up at him. Sensing my confusion, he carefully reached forward and pulled back a little tiny lever on the top of the rifle until it clicked. "That's called pulling the hammer back," he said. "Will, you watching this?"
He didn't wait for a response. "Next thing you're gonna do is pull that lever out underneath the gun. That's going to load the weapon with a fresh cartridge. You're gonna do that between every shot, now. Lift it up against your shoulder like this; get it snug in there." He pulled it against my shoulder. "Look down the iron sight there at the tip of the rifle and line it up against your target. Your weapon is primed and ready to fire. You're good for fifteen shots before you've got to reload. You can always flip it over to see how many bullets are left. Go ahead and aim carefully, and try and hit that target paper down there."
At the end of the range, there was a piece of paper with a silhouette of a human head, shoulders, and torso. I closed one eye for better aim and held the gun tightly as I lined up my shot.
"Don't pull the trigger," Mitch advised in my left ear. "Squeeze it. Squeeze the trigger until it doesn't move easily anymore. Then when you're sure about your aim, squeeze with just that little bit of extra strength you need."
I did as he said, and felt what he was referring to. With my target in sight, my hand steady, and my aim as true as I could hope for, I fired the weapon. The shot rang out right in my ear, but interestingly enough, it wasn't so bad when I was the one firing. I was ready for it, and expecting it.
"Holy smokes!" exclaimed Mitch. "You put one right between the eyes!"
"Beginners's luck," said a man from behind me. "I did the same thing first time I shot, and never did it again."
"Let's prove him wrong, James," Old Mitchell laughed. "Now use that lever under the gun to eject the casing and load a fresh bullet."
I pulled the lever and the shiny little bullet casing popped out the top and flew over my shoulder. It was a really satisfying feeling.
"Do I pull the hammer again? I asked.
"Nope, it'll pop back down. You'll only pull that hammer back the first time. Go ahead and fire again, only this time, aim for the neck."
"Alright," I said, closing my eye and tightening my focus. I squeezed the trigger just as I had the first time and shot a hole straight through the center of the target's neck. I lifted my head and smiled. "I hit it!"
"No way," said the man behind me. "Ain't never shot before, my ass. He's taking you for a ride, Mitch."
"You're sure you're new at this, son?" Old Mitchell asked, one eye half shut. "That's really impressive, kid. Seriously, if this is your first time holding a rifle, you might be cut out for the military. Had a staff sergeant with worse aim than you."
"Alright, alright," Tovin pushed me aside. "My turn. Let me show you something you'll never forget."
The two of us took turns shooting for hours. We hadn't even noticed the time going by. For once, it seemed Tovin had found something he wasn't naturally amazing at, and it was infuriating him to no end.
Conversely, I found something I was really, really good at. I hit my target almost every time, and to be honest, I couldn't figure out what was so difficult about it. A crowd had gathered to watch me shoot. I got really swift with the lever, and could shoot out both of a target's eyes, and put one in its forehead in a matter of seconds.
Tovin wasn't a bad shot, but I knew how he felt. If he wasn't first, he was last as far as he was concerned, and at one point he about threw his rifle. Old Mitchell had to talk to him about how some things come naturally to others, and how he shouldn't be discouraged from coming to the range and practicing.
It was rich hearing Tovin get that talk of all people. The natural genius that outshined everyone, struggling with something for the very first time. I almost couldn't believe I was better than him at something, and of course, it just had to be the thing that we'd never do again once we found our friends and went back home.
Our friends.
We were wasting time here. "Hey, Mitchel," I turned toward him. "When do we get our sign-on bonus? It was supposed to be something like 200 octims."
"You get your sign-on bonus when you bring back your first bounty," he responded quickly.
"What?" Tovin shouted. "That's not fair! We signed on, now where's our money?"
I was equally upset. We were lied to. But it made sense that they couldn't just hand us uniforms, cash, and a gun, and let us go. They wanted to make sure we at least killed a monster.
"It's fine," I said with a sigh. "Where can we find bounties?"
"It's not fine," Tovin protested.
I yanked him by the collar of his shirt and looked him in the eyes. "It's fine," I said slowly and firmly. "We'll run out, bag a monster, and be back before dark."
He held eye contact with me for several seconds before shrugging me off of him and walking away. He stormed across the bay and left through the double doors at the other end of the room.
"My brother was the same way," said Mitch. "Hard-headed. Stubborn as a mule. Loyal as anyone you'd ever meet though."
He had no idea. Tovin wasn't just difficult, but he was turning into a walking liability. I didn't know how much longer I could take him acting like this. Suddenly, Mitch extended his arm, pointing to a door adjacent to where he'd gotten our guns from.
"Bounty board is in there. Come on, I'll show you."
It was a medium-sized room with several corkboards wall to wall filled with bounties. Every monster was named and almost all of them were sketched to a professional degree. You could find how much money the monster was going for, which hunters it had killed, where it was last seen, as well as whether or not there were hunters currently after it.
They had a system where you would notate which monster you were going after, and if you didn't return, they'd add your name under the list of hunters that died searching for it. There were so many monsters I couldn't believe it, and according to Old Mitchell, these were only the monsters within a five-mile radius of Bronzegirder.
I learned the process of choosing a bounty and chose a smaller monster with no names under its fatality list. Mitch agreed it was a good monster for beginners, and offered a few pointers for tracking it. I submitted the bounty request and got it approved before leaving the bay and heading down the hall in search of Tovin. I entered the lobby and didn't see him. I left the building and found him at the top of the steps staring out into the street where a couple of vehicles were hauling something massive together under a tarp.
Several uniformed hunters were walking slowly next to the vehicles. Their uniforms were tattered and bloodstained, and a few of them walked with a limp. We watched as the exhausted men passed the building on their way down the road. Two of them were sobbing silently, but we could tell by their exposed teeth and wrinkled expressions that they'd lost someone.
From beneath the tarp, a scaly limb fell off the side of the vehicle and dangled lifelessly. It was a reptilian-looking arm with an open wound, and the shredded remnants of a uniform hanging from its claws.
"Gill," Tovin said quietly. "Is that..."
"Yeah," I answered.
"That's definitely a monster."
Writing Prompt Submitted by u/My-Last-Hope

Once upon a time there was a lovely princess. But she had an enchantment upon her of a fearful sort, which could only be broken by Love's first kiss. She was locked away in a castle guarded by a terrible fire breathing dragon. Many brave knights had attempted to free her from this dreadful prison, but none prevailed. She waited in the dragon's keep in the highest room of the tallest tower for her true love and true love's first kiss. Like that's ever going to happen. What a loony. Shrek Beware Stay out I think he's in here. All right. Lets get it! Hold on. Do you know what that thing can do to you? Yeah. He'll groan into your bones for his brains. Well actually that would be a giant. Now Ogres, huh, they are much worse. They'll make a soup from your freshly peeled skin. They'll chew your livers, squeeze the jelly from your eyes. Actually, it's quite good on toast. Back, back beast, back! I warned you! Right. This is the part, where you run away. Yeah! And stay out. Wanted. Fairytale creatures. Right, this one is full. Take it away. Give me that. Your fine days are over. -25 pieces of silver for the witch. Next. -Come on. Sit down there! And be quiet! This cage is so small. You wouldn't turn me in. I'll never be stubborn again. I can change. Please, give me another chance. Oh, shut up! Next. What do we got? This little wooden puppet. I'm not a puppet, I'm a real boy. Five shillings for the possessed toy. Take it away. No! Please, don't let them do it! Next. What do you got? Well, I've got a talking donkey! Right. Well that's good for ten schillings, if you can prove it. Oh, go ahead fella. Well? He's just a li..., just a little nervous. He's really quite a chatterbox. You boneheaded donkey! That's it. I have heard enough. Guards! No, no, he talks, he does! I can talk. I love to talk. I've talked to... Get her out of my sight! -No, no, I swear! Hey, I can fly. -He can fly! -He can fly! He can talk! -That's right, fool! Now I'm a flying, talking donkey! You might have seen house fly, maybe even a superfly. But I bet you ain't never seen a donkey fly! Seize him! Get him! This way! Hurry! You there. Ogre. -I. By the order of lord Farquaad. I am authorized to place you both under arrest. And transport you to designated resettlement facility. Oh really? You and what army? Can I say something to you? Listen, you were really, really something, back there. Incredible. Are you talking to... ...me? Yes, I was talking to you. Can I just tell you that you were really great back there with those guards. They thought that was all over there. And then you showed up and BAM. There was tripping on over themselves like babes in the woods. That really made me feel good to see that. Oh, that's great. Really. Man, it's good to be free. Now, why don't you go celebrate your freedom with your own friends? But I... I don't have any friends. And I'm not going out there by myself. Hey wait a minute. I have a great idea... I'll stick with you. You and me in green fighting machine. Together we'll scare the spin if anybody crosses us. Oh, a, that was really scary. Maybe you don't mine me saying. If that don't work, your breath will certainly do the job done, 'cause... you definitively need some tic-tac or something, 'cause your breath stinks! Man you've ??? my note! Just like the time... ...and then I ate some rotten berries. Man I had some strong gases leaking out of my but that day. Why are you following me? I'll tell you why. 'Cause I'm all alone, there is no one here, beside me. My problems have all gone. There's no one to derive me. But you got to have free ... -Stop singing! Well, it's no wonder, you don't have any friends. Wow! Only a true friend would be that truly honest. Listen! Little donkey. Take a look at me! What am I? A... ...really tall? No! I'm an Ogre. You know, grab your torch and pitchforks. Doesn't that bother you? Nope. Really? -Really really. Oh? Man, I like you. What's your name? A..., Shrek. Shrek?! But do you know, what I like about you, Shrek? You've got that kind of: "I don't care what nobody thinks of me" thing. I like that, I respect that, Shrek. You're all right. Uh, look at that. Who would wanna live in a place like that? That would be my home. Oh, it is lovely. Just beautiful. You know you're quite a decorator. It's amazing what you did with such a modest budget. I like that boulder. That is a nice boulder. I guess, you don't entertain much, do you? I like my privacy. You know I do to. That's another thing, we have in common. Like I hate it when you got somebody in your face. You try to give them a hint and they won't leave. And then there's that big occurred silence, you know? Can I stay with you? -What? Can I stay with you, please. Of course! -Really? No. -Please! I don't want to go back there. You don't how is like to be concerned like a freak. Well..., maybe you do. But that's why we have to stick together! You got to let me stay! Please! Please! OK, OK. -But one night only. -Huh, thank you! A, what are you do... No! This is going to be fun. We can stay up late, swap the manly stories. And in the morning... I'm making waffles. Where do I sleep? Outside! Oh, a, I guess that's cool. You know, I don't know you and you don't know me... ... so I guess, outside is best for me. Here I go. Good night. I do like that half door. I'm a donkey all alone outside. Sit by myself outside, I guess. I'm all alone, there's no one here beside me. -I thought, I told you to stay outside. -I am outside. Well James. This is far from the farm, but what choice do we have? It's not... What a lovely bed. -Got you! I found some cheese. Awful stuff. -Is that you Gordon? -How did you know? Enough! What are you doing in my house? Oh, no, no, no... Death prods off the table! Where would we supposed to put her. The bed's taken. What? I live in a swamp. I've put up signs. I'm a terrifying Ogre! What do I have to do, to get a little privacy? Oh, no! No, no! What are you doing in my swamp? All right, get out of here. All of you. Move it! Come on, let's go. And hurry up, hurry up. No, no, not there. Not there! Hey don't look at me. I didn't invite them. Oh gosh, no one invited us. -What? We were forced to come here. -By who? Lord Farquaad. He ??? All right. Who knows where this Farquaad guy is? Oh I do. I know where he is. Does anyone else know where to find him? -Anyone at all? -Me. -Anyone? Oh pick me, I know! Me, me. Ok, fine. Attention all fairy tale things! Do not get comfortable. Your welcome is officially warned up. In fact. I'm gonna see this guy Farquaad right now and get all off my land and back where you came from. You. You're coming with me. All right. That's what I like to hear, man. Shrek and Donkey, two stubborn friends off on a world and big city adventure. I love it. I'm on road again. Sing with me Shrek! I'm on road again... What did I say about singing? -Can I whistle? -No. -Well, can I hummer? -All right. That's enough. He's ready to talk. Run, run, run as fast as you can, you can't catch me. I'm the gingerbread man. You monster. I'm not a monster here. You are. You and the rest of that fairytale trash, poisoning my perfect world. -Now tell me! Where are the others? -Eat me. I've tried to be fair to you, creatures. Now my patience has reached its end! -Tell me! Or I'll... -No, no, not the buttons. Not gumdrop buttons. All right! Who's hiding them? Ok, I'll tell you. -Do you know the muffin-man? -The muffin-man? -The muffin-man. -Yes, I know the muffin-man. Who lives on Proully lane? -Well, she's married to the muffin-man. -The muffin-man! -The muffin-man! -She's married to the muffin-man. My lord! We found it. Well then, what are you waiting for? Bring it in. Magic mirror. Don't tell him anything! Evening. Mirror, mirror on the wall. Is this not the most perfect kingdom of them all? Well, technically, you're not a king. A..., felonious. -You were saying. -What I mean is a... ...you're not a king, yet. But you can become one. All you have to do, is marry a princess. Go on. So, just sit back and relax my lord, because it's time for you to meet today's eligible bachelorettes. And here they are. Bachelorette number one is a mentally abused shading from a kingdom far, far away. She likes sushi and hottubbing anytime. Her hobbies include cooking and cleaning for two evil sisters. Please welcome... Cinderella. Bachelorette number two is a kemp wearing girl from a land of fantasy. Although she lives with seven other man, she is not easy. Just kiss hers dead frozen lips and find out what a live wife she is. Come on. Give it up for... Show-white. And last but certainly not least. Bachelorette number three is a fire-breathing ????, dragon guarded castle, surrounded by a hot boiling lava. But don't let that cool you off. She's a loaded pistol who likes Pina Coladas and getting cut in the rain. Yours for the rescuing, Princess Fiona. So will it be, bachelorette number one? Bachelorette number two? Or bachelorette number three? -Two... -Three! -Two! One. No, no, no. Three. Pick number three my lord. Ok, ok. Number three. Lord Farquaad. You've chosen... princess Fiona. She's nice. Fiona. She's perfect. All I have to do is just find someone... But I probably should mention little thing that happens at night... -I'll do it! -Yes, but after sunset... Silence! I will make this princess Fiona my queen. And Duloc will finally have the perfect king! Captain! Assemble your finest man. We're going to have a tournament! That's it, that's, right there, that's Duloc. I've told you I'll find it. So. That must be lord Farquaad's castle. Aha, that's the place. Do you think maybe he's compensating for something. Hey, hey wait up Shrek! -Hey, you! -No, no! Wait a second. Look, I'm not gonna eat you. I just... It's quiet. Too quiet. Where is everybody? Hey look at this. Wow! -Let's do that again. -No. no. All right. You're going the right way for smack bottom. Sorry about that. That champion should have the honor, no, no... ...the privilege to go forth and rescue the lovely princess Fiona from the fireing keep of the dragon. If for any reason the winner is unsuccessful, the first runner up will take his place. And so on, and so forth. Some of you may die, but it's a sacrifice I'm willing to make. Applause. Let the tournament begin. What is that? Ugh, it's hideous. Oh, that's not very nice. It's just a donkey. Indeed. Knights! New plan. The one, who kills the Ogre, will be named champion. How about him. Oh, hey. Now, come on. Can't we just settle this over a pint? No? All right then. Come on. Hey Shrek! Let me, let me! The chair! Give him the chair! Thank you. Thank you, very much. I'm here until Thursday. Try the wheel! Shall I give the order sir? No. I have a better idea. People of Duloc. I give you our champion! What? Congratulation, Ogre. You've won the honor of embarking on a great and noble quest. Quest? I'm already on a quest. A quest to get my swamp back! -Your swamp? -Yeah, my swamp! Where you dumped those fairytale creatures. Indeed. All right Ogre, I'll make you a deal. Go on this quest for me and I'll give you your swamp back. Exactly the way it was? Down to the last slime covered toast tool. -And the squatters? -As good as gone. What kind of quest? Ok, let me get this straight! We gonna go find the dragon and rescue a princess just so Farquaad will give you back the swamp, which you only don't have, 'cause he filled it with full of freaks on the first place. -Is that about right? -You know what? Maybe there is a good reason, donkeys shouldn't talk. I don't get it Shrek. Why didn't you just pull some old Ogre stuff on them? You know, ??? . Grab his bones to make you brave. You know the whole Ogre trick. Oh, you know what. Maybe I could have decapitated entire village and put their heads on plate. Got a knife, cut open their spleens and drink their fluids. Does that sound good to you? A, no, not really, no. For your information, there is a lot more to Ogres than people think. -Example. -Example? OK, A-a-m, Ogres are like onions. -They stink? -Yes, no. -O, they make you cry. -No. Oh, you leave them out on the sun and they get all brown and start ??? little wild hairs? No! Layers! Onions have layers. Ogres have layers. Onions have layers. You get it? We both have layers. O, you both have layers. You know not everybody likes onions. Cake! Everybody loves cakes. Cakes have layers. I don't care what everyone likes. Ogres are not like cakes. You know what else everyone likes? Paffe. Have you ever met a person and you say: "Hey, let's get some paffe" and they say I don't like paffe. Paffe is delicious. No! You tensed, irritating, miniature peace of barden. Ogres are like onions. End of story. Bye, bye. See you lather. Paffe is maybe the most delicious thing on the whole damn planet. You know I think I've preferred your humming. Do you have a tissue or something, 'cause I'm making a mess. Just the word paffe has made me start slimying Why, Shrek, did you do that? Man you got to warn somebody before you just crack one off. My mouth was opened and everything. Believe me donkey, if it was me, you'd be dead. It's brimstone. We must be getting close. Yeah, right, brimstone. Don't be talking ??? brimstone. I know what I smell and ??? no brimstone. And they don't come of stone neither. Sure it's big enough, but look at the location. Oh, Shrek, remember when you said that Ogres have layers? Oh, yeah. Well, I have a confession to make. Donkeys don't have layers. We wear ??? sleeves. Wait a second. Donkeys don't have sleeves. -You know what I mean. -Oh, you can't tell me you're afraid of highs. No, I'm just a little uncomfortable of being on a rickety bridge over boiling lake of lava! Come on donkey, I'm right here beside you. Ok? For emotional support. We'll just hackle this thing together one little baby step after time. -Really? -Really really. Ok. That makes me feel so much better. Just keep moving and don't look down. Don't look down, don't look down. Shrek! I'm looking down! I can't do this. Just let me off right now, please. -But you're already half way. -Yeah, but I know that half is safe. Ok, fine. I don't have time for this. You go back. Shrek, no, wait. Don't do that! Oh, I'm sorry. Do what? -Oh. This? -Yes, that! Yes, yes. Do it. OK. -No, Shrek! -I'm doing it. I'm gonna die. I'm gonna die. Shrek, I'm gonna die. That will do Donkey, that will do. Cool. So where is this fire breathing pain in the neck anyway? Inside. Waiting for us to rescue her. I was talking about the dragon Shrek. -Are you afraid? -No, but shhhhh. Oh, good. Me neither. Because there's nothing wrong with being afraid. Here's a..., something responsible of the situation. Not to mention dangerous situation. And there's dragon that breathes fire. I'm sure he's meaner than a cow or anything, but they're scare. You know what I mean. I'm sure he's heavier than a cow... Donkey. Two things. Ok? Shut, up. Now go over there and see if you can find any stairs. Stairs? I thought we were looking for the princess. The princess will be up the stairs in the highest room in the tallest tower. What makes you think she'll be there? I read it in a book once. Cool. You handle the dragon, I'll handle the stairs. Oh, I'll find those stairs. I'll ???. That's right. Those stairs won't know which way they go. The drafting stairs, ??? Don't mess with me. I'm the stair master. I'm master of the stairs. I wish I had a stair right here right here now, I'd step all over it. Well, at least we know where the princess is. -But where is the... -Dragon! Donkey, look out! Got you. Oh, what large teeth you have. I mean, white sparkling teeth. You probably hear this all the time from your food, but you must bleach yourself, because that is one dashing smile you got there. And do I detect the hint of minty freshness? And you know what else? You're a girl dragon. Oh, sure. I mean 'course you're a girl dragon, 'cause you're just ricking the feminine beauty out. What's the matter with you? Do you have something in your eye? Man, I'd really love to stay, but you know I'm a asthmatic and I don't know if we would worked out. You'd be blowing smoke and stuff. Shrek! No, Shrek! Shrek! -Wake up! -What? Are you princess Fiona? I am. Awaiting a knight so bold as to rescue me. Oh, that's nice. Now let's go. But wait, sir knight. This be our first meeting. Should not be wonderful, romantic moment? Yeah. Sorry lady there's no time. Hey, what are you doing? You know, you should sweep me out of my feet. Out through the window and down the rope by to your valued steed. You've had a lot of time to plan this, haven't you? Uh-um. But we have to sing through this moment. You can residing of a poem to me. A ballad, a sonnet, a libretti. Or something. I don't think so. Well, can I at least know a name of my champion? Shrek. So, Shrek. I pray that you take this favor as a token of my gratitude. Thanks. -You didn't slay the dragon? -It's not my job to do this. Now, come on! But this isn't right. ??? That's what all the other knights did. Yeah. Right before they burst in the flame. That's not the point. Wait. Where are you going? Exit is over there. Well, I have to save my ass. What kind of knight are you? One of a kind. ...rush into a physical relationship. I'm not that emotionally ready for commitment of a this magnitude. That was the word I was looking for. Magnitude. Hey, that is unwanted physical contact. Hey, what are you doing? Ok, ok, let's just back up a little and take this one step at the time. I mean, we really should get to know each other first, you know what am I saying. As friends, maybe even as ??? Hey don't do that. That's my tail. That's ma personal tail. And you're going to tear it off.... Oh, no. No! -It talks?! -Yeah. It's getting to shut up, that's a trick. Ok, you two. Head for the exit. I'll take care of the dragon. Ruuuuun! You did it. You rescued me. Amizing, you're wonderful. You're a ... ...a little unorthodox I admit, but by deed is great and by heart is pure. I'm entirely in your debt. And where would a brave knight be without his noble steed. I hope you heard that. She called me a noble steed. She thinks I'm a steed. The battle is won. You may remove your helmet good sir knight. -Aah, no. -Why not? I have helmet hair. Please. I wouldst look upon the face of my rescuer. Oh, no, you wouldn't, dust. But, how will you kiss me? What? That wasn't in a job description. -Maybe it's a perk? -No. It's destiny. You must know how it goes. A princess locked in a tower and besieged by a dragon is rescued by a brave knight. And then they share true love's first kiss. With Shrek? You think, wait... ...you think Shrek is your true love? Well, yes. You think that Shrek is your true love. What is so funny? Let's just say, I'm not your type, ok? Of course you are. You're my rescuer. Now, now remove your helmet. Look. I really don't think this is a good idea. -Just take off the helmet. -I'm not going to. -Take it off! -No! -Now! -Ok, easy. As you command your highness. You're an Ogre. Oh, you were expecting Prince Charming. Well, yes, actually. Oh no. This is all wrong. You're not supposed to be an Ogre. Princess, I was sent to rescue you by lord Farquaad, ok? He's the one, who wants to marry you. Well, then why didn't he come to rescue me? Good question. You should ask him that, when we get there. But I have to be rescued by my true love. Not by some Ogre and his pet. Well so much for noble steed. Look princess. You're not making my job any easier. Well I'm sorry, but your job is not my problem. You can tell lord Farquaad that if he wants to rescue me properly, I'll be waiting for him right here. Hey, I'm no ones messenger boy, all right? -I'm a delivery boy. -You wouldn't dare. -You coming donkey? -Put me down! Yeah, I'm right behind you. Put me down or you will suffer the consequences. This is not dignified. Put me down. Ok, here's another question. Let's say that a woman 'digged' you, but you don't really like her, that way. Now, how you let her down real easy, so her feelings aren't hurt? But you don't get burned to a crisp neither. How do you do this? Just tell her, she's not your true love. Everyone knows it what happens when you find... Hey! The sooner we get to Duloc, the better. Oh, yeah. You gonna love it there princess. It's beautiful. And what of my groom to be, lord Farquaad. What's he like? Well, let me put it this way, princess. Men of Farquaad's stature are in short supply. Oh no, Shrek. There are those who think little of him. Stop it. Stop it, both of you. You know, you're just jealous that you can never measure up to a great ruler like lord Farquaad. Yeah. Well maybe you're right princess. But I'd like you do that measuring when you see him tomorrow Tomorrow? It will take that long? -Shouldn't we stop to make camp? -No. That would take longer. We can keep going. But there are robbers in the woods. Whoa, time out Shrek. Camp is definitely something that sounds good. Hey. Come on. I'm scarier than anything we're gonna see in this forest. I need to find somewhere to camp, now! Hey, over here. Shrek, we can do better than that. Now, I don't think this is decent for princess. No, no, it's perfect. It just needs a few homey touches. Homey touches? Like what? A door. Well, gentleman I'll be d..., good night. Do you want me to come in and read you a bedtime story, 'cause I will... I said good night! Shrek! What are you doing? I just..., you know... Oh, come on, I was just kidding. And that one, that's Throwback. The only Ogre to ever spit over three wheat fields. Right. Yeah. Hey, can you tell my future form these stars? Well, the stars don't tell the future, Donkey. They tell stories. Look. There's Blodna, the "Flatulent" You can guess what he is famous for. All right. Now I know you're making this up. No. Look. There he is and there's the group of hunters running away from his stag. Man, there ain't nothing, but a bunch of little dots. You know donkey, sometimes things are more than they appear. Forget it. Hey Shrek. What are you gonna do when we get our swamp back, anyway? -Our swamp? -You know. When we're through rescuing the princess and all that stuff. We? Donkey, there is no we. There's no our. There's just me and my swamp. And the first thing I'm gonna do, is build a ten foot wall around my land. You cut me deep Shrek, you cut me real deep just now. You know, what I think? I think this whole wall thing is just a way to keep somebody out. No, do you think? -Are you hiding something? -Never mind Donkey. Oh, this is another one of those onion things, isn't it? No. This is one of those drop it and leave it alone things. -Why don't you want to talk about it? -Why do you want to talk about it? -Oh, Why you block? -I'm not blocking. -Oh yes you are. -Donkey, I'm warning you. -Who are you trying to keep out? Just tell me that Shrek. Who? Everyone, ok? -Oh, now we're getting somewhere. -Oh, for 'the love of pit'. Hey, what's your problem Shrek? What do you got against the whole world anyway? Look. I'm not the one with the problem, ok? It's the world that seems to have a problem with me. People take one look at me and go: AAA... Help! Run! A big stupid ugly Ogre. They judge me, before they even know me. That's why I'm better off alone. You know what? When we met, I didn't think you're just a big stupid, ugly Ogre. Yeah, I know. So, a... Are there any donkeys up there? Well, there's a Cabby. The small and annoying. Ok, ok. I see him, now. Big shining one, right there. That one, over there? That's the moon. Again. Show me again. Mirror, mirror, show her to me. Show me the princess. Perfect. Yeah. You know I like like that. Oh come on baby... -Donkey. Wake up. -What? -Wake up. Morning. How do you like your eggs? -Good morning princess. -What's all this about? You know, we kind of got of to a bad start yesterday and I wanted to make it up to you. I mean, after all, you did rescue me. Thanks. Well, eat up. We've got a big day ahead of us. -Shrek! -What? It's a compliment. Better out than in I always say. But that's no way to behave in front of a princess. -Thanks. -She's as nasty as you are. You know. You're not exactly what I've expected. Well, maybe you shouldn't judge people before you get to know them. Princess! What are you doing? ???mon shery, for I am your saviour. And I am rescuing you from this green...beast. Hey! That's my princess. Go find your own. Please, monster. Can't you see I'm a little busy here? Look, pal. I don't know who you think you are. Oh, of course. How rude that was. Please, let me introduce myself. Oh marry men! Man, that was annoying. Oh, you little... Shall we? ???all the forin??? Whoa, hold on, now. Where did that come from? -What? -That. Back there. That was amazing. Where did you learn that? Well, when one lives alone one has to learn these things in case there's a... There is an arrow in your butt. What? Oh, would you look at that. Oh, no... This is all my fault. I'm so sorry. -What's wrong? -Shrek's hurt. -Shrek's hurt? Shrek's hurt! -Oh, no. Shrek's going to die. -Donkey, I'm ok. You can't do this to me Shrek. I'm too young for you to die. Keep your legs elevated. Turn your head ???. -Does anyone know how to handle... -Donkey! Calm down. If you want to help Shrek, run into woods and find me a blue flower with red thorns. Blue flower, red thorns. Ok, I'm on it. Blue flower, red thorns. Blue flower, red thorns. Don't die Shrek. And if you see a long tunnel, stay away from the light! -Donkey! -Oh, yeah. Right. Blue flower, red thorns. Blue flower, red thorns. -What are the flowers for? -For getting rid of the Donkey. Now, you hold still and I'll yank this thing out. -Hey! Easy with the yanking. -I'm sorry, but it has to come out. No, no. It's tender. What you're doing here is the opposite... -Don't move. -Ok, look. Time out. -Would you... Ok. What do you propose we do? Blue flower, red thorns. Blue flower, red thorns. Blue flower, red thorns. This would be so much easier if I wasn't colorblind. Blue flower, red thorns. Blue flower, red thorns. Hold on, Shrek. I'm coming! Not good. Ok, ok, I can lose it. It's just about it. Nothing happened. We were just a... Look if you want to be alone, all you had to do is ask, ok? Oh, come on. That's the last thing on my mind. The princess here was just... Au! Hey, what's that? Is that... There it is, princess. -Your future awaits you. -That's Duloc? Yeah. I know. You'll shrink things lord Farquaad is compensating for something, which I think needs, he has a I guess we better move on. Sure, but Shrek... -I'm worried about Donkey. -What? I mean. Look at him. He doesn't look so good. -What are you talking about? I'm fine. -Well, that's what they always say. And the next thing you know you're on your back. -Dead! -You know she's right. You look awful. -Do you want to sit down? -You know, I'll make you up some tea. Well, I won't say nothing, but I've got this twinge in my neck. And if I turn my neck like this, look. Au, see? -He's hungry. I'll find us some dinner. -I'll get the firewood. Hey, where are you going? Oh man, I can't feel my thumbs. I don't have any thumbs!!! I think I need a hug. This is good. This is really good. -What is this? -Wheat rat. -Rotisserie style. -No kidding. -Oh, this is delicious. -Well, they also great in stews. Now, I don't mean to brag, but I make a mean wheat rat stew. I guess I'll be dining a little different late tomorrow night. Maybe you can come visit me in the swamp sometime. I'll cook all kinds of stuff for you. Swamp toast, soup fish, eye tartar. You name it. I'd like that. -Ah... , princess? -Yes, Shrek? I'm a.... I was wondering. Are you... a... Are you gonna eat that? Man, isn't this romantic. Just look at that sunset. Sunset?! Oh, no. It's late. It's very late. -What? -Wait a minute. I see what's going on here. You're afraid of the dark. Aren't you? Yes, yes. That's it. That's, I'm terrified. You know I'll better go inside. But don't feel bad, princess. I used to be afraid of the dark too. Until... Hey, no, wait. I'm still afraid of the dark. -Good night. -Good night. Ahh. Now I really see what's going on here. Oh, what are you talking about. Hey I don't wanna even hear. Look, I'm an animal and I got instincts. And I know that you two are digging on each other. I can feel it. Oh, you're crazy. I'm just bringing her back to Farquaad. Oh, come on, Shrek. Wake up and smell the fairemones. Just go in there and tell her how you feel. There's nothing to tell. Besides, even if I did tell her that... well you know. I'm not saying that I do, 'cause I don't. She's a princess and I'm... ...an Ogre. Yeah, an Ogre. -Hey, where are you going? -To get more firewood. Princess. Princess Fiona? Princess, where are you? Princess? It's very spooky in here and are we playing little games. -No, no. -Help! Shrek! Shrek! -No. -Shrek! -It's ok. It's ok. -What did you do with the princess? -Donkey, shhh. I'm the princess. -It's me, in this body. -Oh my god. You ate the princess. -Can you hear me? -Donkey! Listen, keep breathing. I'll get you out of there! Shrek! Shrek! Shrek! This is me. Princess? What happened to you? You're a... different. -I'm ugly, ok? -Yeah. Was it something that you ate? 'Cause I told Shrek those rats were a bad idea. -You are what you eat, I say. -No. I've been this way as long as I can remember. What do you mean? Look, I've never seen you like this before. It only happens when the sun goes down. By night one way, by day another. This shall be the norm until you find true love's first kiss. Then, take love's true form... -Oh, that's beautiful. I didn't know you wrote poetry. -It's the spell. When I was a little girl, a witch cast a spell on me. Every night I become this. This horrible ugly beast. I was placed in a tower to await the day when my true love would rescue me. That's why I have to marry lord Farquaad tomorrow, before the sun sets and he sees me, like this? All right, all right. Calm down. Look, it's not that bad. You're not that ugly. Wait, wait, I'll not lie, you are ugly. But you only look like this at night. Shrek's ugly 24/7. But Donkey, I'm a princess. And this is not how a princess is meant to look. Princess. How about if you don't marry Farquaad? I have to. Only my true love's kiss can brake the spell. But you know, you're kind of an Ogre. And Shrek... Well you've got a lot in common. Shrek? Princess, I... How is it going first of all? Good? Good for me to. I'm ok. I saw this flower and thought of you because it's pretty. And, well, I don't really like it, but I thought you may like it, because you're pretty. But I like you anyway. A.... I'm in trouble. Ok, here we go. Who could ever love a piece so hideous and ugly? Princess and ugly don't go together. That's why I can't stay here with Shrek, but only chance to live happily ever after is to marry my true love. Don't you see, Donkey? That's just how it has to be. It's the only way to break the spell. Well, at least you've got tell Shrek the truth. No, no. You can't breathe the word. No one must ever know. What's the point of being unable to talk? You got to keep secrets. Promise you won't tell. Promise! You know, before this is over, I'm going to need whole lot of serious therapies. All right, all right. I won't tell him. But you should. Look at my eye twitching. I tell him, I tell him not. I tell him. I tell him not. I tell him! Shrek! Shrek! There's something I want ... Shrek. Are you all right? Perfect. Never been better. I... There's something I have to tell you. You don't have to tell me anything, princess. I heard enough last night. -You've heard what I said? -Every word. I thought you'd understand? Oh, I understand! Like you said, who could love a hideous, ugly beast! -I thought that wouldn't matter to you. -Yeah, well, it does. Ah, right on time. Princess. I brought you a little something. What I missed? What I missed? -Princess Fiona. -As promised. Now hand it over. Very well, Ogre. The deed to your swamp. Cleared out as agreed. Take it and go. Before I change my mind. Forgive me princess for startling you, but you startled me. For I've never seen such a radiant beauty before. -I am lord Farquaad. -Lord Farquaad? Oh, no, no... forgive me my lord for I was just saying short... farewell. Oh. That is so sweet. You don't have to raise good manners on the Ogre. -It's not like it has feelings. -No. You're right. It doesn't. Princess Fiona, beautiful fair flawless Fiona, I ask your hand in marriage. Will you be the perfect bride for the perfect groom? Lord Farquaad, I accept. Nothing would make... Excellent! I'll start the plans for tomorrow we wedd... No! I mean I... Why wait? Let's get married today. Before sunset. Oh, anxious are we? You're right. The sooner, the better. There's so much to do. There is the camera, the cake, the band, the guests... Captain! Round up some guests. Farewell Ogre. Shrek, what are you doing? You let her get away. -Yeah, so what. -Shrek. There's something about her that you don't know. -I talked to her last night. She's... -Yeah I know you talked to her last night. You're great pal, aren't you? Now, if you two are such good friend, why didn't you follow her home? -Shrek. I want to go with you. -I told you, didn't I? You're not coming home with me. I live alone. My swamp, me and nobody else! Understand? Nobody! Especially useless, pathetic, annoying, talking donkeys! -But. I thought... -Yeah. You know what? You thought wrong. Shrek. Donkey? What are you doing? I was thinking of all the people, you would recognize a wall when you see one. Well, yeah. But the wall supposed to go around my swamp. Not through it. It is around your half. See? That's your half and this is my half. Oh, your half? Yes, my half. I helped rescue the princess. I did half the work. I get half the booty. Now hand me that big old rock, the one that looks like your head -Back off! -No. You back off! -This is my swamp. -Our swamp. -Let go, Donkey! -You let go! -Stubborn jackass. -Smelly Ogre. Fine! Hey, hey, come back here. I'm not through with you, yet. -Well, I'm through with you! -Well, you know. You were always me, me, me. Well, guess what? Now it's my turn! So you just shut up and pay attention! You are mean to me, you insult me, you don't appreciate anything that I do! You're always pushing me around or pushing me away. Oh, yeah? Well, if I treated you so bad, how come you came back? Because that's what friend do. They forgive each other! Oh, yeah. You're right Donkey. I forgive you for stabbing me in the back! You're so wrapped up in layers, onion boy. You're afraid of your own feelings. -Go away. -See? There you are, doing it again. Just like you did it to Fiona. And all she ever do, was like you. Maybe even love you. Love me? She said I was ugly! A hideous creature. -I heard that you two were talking. -She wasn't talking about you. She was talking about... ...somebody else. She wasn't talking about me? Well then, who was she talking about? No way, I'm not saying anything. You won't listen to me, right? Right? -Donkey. -No! Ok, look. I'm sorry, all right? I'm sorry. I guess I am just a big stupid, ugly Ogre. Can you forgive me? -Hey, that's the friends are for, right? -Right. -Friends? -Friends. So? What did Fiona said about me? Why are you asking me for? Why don't you just go ask her. The wedding! We'll never make it in time! Never fear! For where there is a will, there is a way. And I have I way. Donkey? -I guess this is just my act of magnetism. -Oh, come here, you. All right. All right. Don't get all started. No one likes kissass. All right, hop on. Hold on tight. I hadn't have a chance to install seat belts, yet. People of Duloc. We gather here today to bear witness to reunion of our new king... Excuse me. Could you just skip ahead to "I do's"? Go on. Go ahead and have some fun, if we need you, I'll whistle. How about that? Shrek, wait, wait a minute. You want to do this right, don't you? -What are you talking about? -It's the line, it's the line you got to wait for. The priest is going to say: "Speak now or forever hold your peace". And that's where you say: "I object". -I don't have time for this. -Wait, wait. What are you doing? Listen to me! Look, you love this woman, don't you? -Yes. -You want to hold her! -Yes. -Please her! -Yes! Then you got to, got to try a little tender love. -The chicks love that romantic crap. -All right. Cut it out. When does this guy say the line? We got to check it out. And as so by the power of these two... What do you see? -I now pronounce you... -There they go! -...he all ready said it. -Oh, for 'the love of pit'. I object! Shrek? Oh, now what does he want? Hi, everyone. Having a good time, aren't you? I love Duloc, first of all. Very clean. -What are you doing here? -Really, it's rude enough being alive, when no one wants you. But showing up uninvited to a wedding... -Fiona! I need to talk to you. -Oh, now you wanna talk? Well it's a little late for that. So if you'll excuse me. -But you can't marry him! -And why not? Because, because he's just marrying you so he can be king. -Outrageous! Fiona, don't listen to him. -He's not your true love. -What do you know about true love? -Well, I ...I'm in... Oh, this is precious. The Ogre has fallen in love with the princess. Laugh. Shrek. Is this true? Who cares. It's preposterious. Fiona, my love, we gonna kiss away for our happily ever after. Now kiss me! By night one way, by day another. I wanted to show you before. Well. That explains a lot. Oh. It's disgusting. Guards, guards. I order you to get them out of my sight. -Now! Get them! Get them, both! -No! This marriage is minding, and that makes me king. See? See? -Shrek! -No. -Don't just stand there, you dogs. -Get out of my way. No! Shrek! -And as for you my wife. -Fiona! I'll have you locked back in that tower for the rest of your days! I will have order. I will have potential. I will have... All right, nobody move! I got a dragon here and I'm not afraid to use it. I'm a donkey on the edge! Celebrity marriages. They never last, do they? Go ahead Shrek. -Fiona? -Yes, Shrek? I love you. Really? Really, really. I love you too. A time for true love's first kiss... Fiona? Fiona? Are you all right? Yes. But I don't understand. I'm supposed to be beautiful. But you are beautiful. I was hoping this would be a happy ending. God bless us, everyone.

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Chapter 09

Station Guild Hyangjing Voidstation

Station Masters Office

Corley Openheim was sulking at the moment. A viewscreen dazzled light on the wall opposite him, playing the latest Zargs Revenge epic. The audio seemed to just emanate from every surface.
The sex on the screen was becoming brutal, the violence epic, but Corley could care less about the climatic end of the latest holo-epic. He was more worried about the numbers on his terminal screens.
They were red.
"Red is such an ugly color! So chaotic, so raw, so…negative!" Corley said out loud to himself, trying not to let the tears start again. Red only meant one thing to Corley.
It meant he was losing money.
Corley was the youngest ever Station Master inducted into the Guild. His office was spartan in the “I Love Me” decoration department, with only his Station Master Sigil hanging on the wall and a few small personal knick-knacks here and there. The War was no longer becoming a profit for the Stations. The front lines had become stagnant, neither the Solidarity or Republics side gaining any headway against each other. Both sides were economically viable to support, for if either side won the number of Void Stations needing to be licensed would go up.
However the ugly, angry colored numbers staring back at Corley meant that currently, HIS Void Station was operating at a loss. The Guild did NOT appreciate loss, in any form. Corley stood from his overly-designed desk chair, which hovered on three anti-grav pucks. This chair slid effortlessly back then magnetically locked itself into place whenever Corley let it go. A small sound played from the chair as he walked away;
“General Republic thanks you for using the Hfluger AG Office Chair! Comfort, Floating! General Republic, There For You!”
After a few minutes of self induced stress pacing, Corley stopped and raised a hand in surprise, then turning it into a fist and pumping it in the air. Corley had recalled that there were several Solidarity ships currently docked at his station. Corley walked to the huge oaken double doors that lead out into the lobby of his office, opened one, and stuck his head out. He looked at the receptionist, who was currently watching something on her OptiLens.
”...Mrs. Kip, dear, can you parse a query and find me a Soddy officer who owes me money?”
The woman blinked her eyes a few times, looked at Corley, and smiled. Corley pulled his head back in, and walked to the desk. By the time his Armani-Bok pants touched the Anti-Grav Office chairs seat, a chime came from everywhere around Corley.
Stroking his chin, Corley Openheim started to think. He opened the report that Mrs. Kip had sent him. It was a dossier on a Solidarity Flotilla Captain and his 3 Yanzin class destroyers currently docked at the station.
As Corley went over the Captains financial situation, an important message appeared in his ComMail folder. Curiously, it was marked “Priority: ALL STATION MASTERS OPEN ASAP.”
Somewhat surprised at the title, Openheim opened it.
He skimmed over it briefly, not really paying much attention, but then certain words caught his attention. His face paled at its content.
“All Station Masters, be aware: An unknown and unlicensed Voidstation has been detected at these galactic coordinates. A Guild ordered Automated Survey drone sent back these images of the station. Its origins and make-up are unknown.”
Corley Openheim tilted his head a bit and looked at the static images of the unlicensed voidstation. It looked like nothing he had seen before, it looked more like a stinging bugs nest than a hulking mass of rings and gantries.
He clicked on a video and a scene of tiny specks of engine plumes and movement around the station played. He read further:
“In the interest of the Guild and her profit, the Guild has chosen a single flotilla of Guild ships to ascertain who the owners of this station are, and cease its operation. Be advised, all Station Masters CC’d must submit a single ship from their forces to make up this flotilla.”
Corley opened the list.
There his name was, right at the top. The number 1 sat beside it. So that meant he was only responsible for sending a single Guildship to aid in enforcement. He dared not send a ship in his service, for he would have to pay for every single person aboard it, their supplies, its weapons stores and replace anything that's lost or stolen.
As Corley puzzled over this dilemma, an idea popped into his head. Excitedly, Corley Openheim closed the urgent message, not really paying attention to its implications as unlicensed voidstations were always being built, and the Guild was always maintaining the legitimacy of the Guild. He keyed Mrs. Kip.
“Get Mr. Xuan here ASAP, Mrs. Kip!”
Jing Hyan Xuan had sat patiently waiting in the antechamber of the Station Masters office longer than he wanted. The decadent decorations of the inherently evil Guild disgusted the die hard Solidarity fleet officer. The fact was that the majority of the wealth that the Station Guild held was because of their unjust monopoly on Voidstation licenses. This irked Jing Xuan a lot. He was a proud Solidarity officer. The War with the Republic had gotten stale, with either side unable to gain any significant advantage against each other in any contested system.
As Jing mulled over The War, the receptionist that was sitting in the corner cleared her throat.
“Mr. Openheim will see you now.”
Jumping a little, Jing stood and bowed. The huge wooden double doors swung open. Jing walked through into a brightly lit office. It wasn’t large, with just a desk and a chair and the Station Master sigil on the wall behind the nerdy looking man sitting at the desk. The man seemed to be reading something on his terminal screen over and over.
Jing approached the desk and saluted. The woman cleared her throat and spoke loudly;
“Mr. Xuan, like you asked.” and promptly left the room, closing the door behind her.
Corley Openheim looked up from his terminal screen and smiled.
“Welcome, Mr. Xuan! I want to commend you on your recent successful mission! But that isn’t why you are here. So take a seat, Mr. Xuan.”
Jing furrowed his eyebrows at that statement, and sat as he was asked.
“Mr. Xuan, are you aware of why I called you here today?” Corley said, pushing himself away from his desk and leaning back. The AG chair floated soundlessly across the floor.
“General Republic thanks you for using the Hfluger AG Office Chair! Comfort, Floating! General Republic, There For You!”
A moment passed and then the Solidarity officer spoke.
“I am an officer of the Peoples System of Solidarity. I am not beholden to your Guilds whims. No, I do not know why I am here, Station Master.”
Corley smiled broadly at this, and leaned forward in his chair. The hologram screens of his terminal turned off.
“Mr. Xuan, in the interest of time and brevity, I don’t care what nation you serve. You owe the Guild money! Twice you’ve docked your ships at this station, and twice you haven’t paid your Surplus Supply storage fees! You are aware that non-payment of Guild services can lead to the confiscation of any ship those supplies are for?”
Jing Hyan Xuans blood began to boil as soon as the arrogant man across from him stated his ignorance of his Service to the Solidarity. He was a war fighting sailor, not a chump the Guild could push around. Angrily, Xuan stood and began to yell at the Station Mation.
“I refuse to pay your predatory fees, Station Master! I cannot help that I am not using every single item that my ship is supplied with! An excess of supply is good in this war time economy, and forcing the Solidarity to pay YOU to store OUR supplies is wasteful! And I DARE you to seize ANY of my ships!”
The words hung over Xuan, lingering in the air like the foul things he had said. The arrogant, greedy Station Master sat staring at the Solidarity Fleet officer. A few moments of silence passed, and then the man snorted, and turned his terminal screens on. He typed rapidly, and projected what came up in front of Xuan, big and bright and clearly visible.
It was his signature, on the Guild Stations Docking contract. His DNA mark, in detail, and dental record.
“Mr. Xuan, you have 3 Yanzin class Destroyers under your command currently docked aboard our Station. I am confiscating each one, their crews and their supplies for a special Guild operation. I am going to give you a choice, Mr. Xuan. Command your ships at the Guilds behest, or explain to your precious Solidarity government how a foolish Captain squandered three warships by signing a contract. A contract your Government has sworn to abide by to facilitate its war against the Republic. Which will you survive?”
Flotilla Captain Jing Hyan Xuan sat back down while the Station Master spoke, all of the bluster in his fight blown out. He pondered the question for a moment. The implication. It was always the implications.
Xuan stood again, but this time he bowed. No sense in getting his head chopped off for gross negligence and loss of fleet assets. Or…Xuan let the idea grow and fester. It gorged itself on the possibilities. He blurted out loud:
“I will command the ships at the behest of the Guild, Station Master. It seems though, regardless of how I feel, I cannot win.”
The Station Master smiled his broad smile and stood from his chair, coming around the desk to take the Solidarity officer in a grand embrace. The officer stood straight and stiff, but Openheim shook him and stepped back.
“You are a smart, good man Mr. Xuan! I’ll handle the specifics about your ships with your Fleet. Mrs Kip? Put Mr. Xuan on as a temporary Captain of the Guild.”
A distant soft voice sounded from the lobby. “Yes sir, Mr. Openheim.”
Xuan bowed to the man. Openheim turned away from Xuan and returned to his desk. He sat down in his decadent chair and said to Xuan:
“Upon completion of this operation you’ll be released back to the Solidarity Fleet along with your ships and crews. I highly doubt what you are tasked to do will be difficult. You’re gonna be a part of a flotilla to go destroy an unlicensed voidstation! So exciting!”
Xuan bowed once more to Corley Openheim.
“Sir, I will do as you command. Do I have permission to depart and get my ships prepared?”
Openheim waved a hand. “Yes, go. I’ll send you a CoMail in a few moments with the details. Have fun!”
Jing Huan Xuan turned and marched out of the Station Masters office, determined to do his duty well. However, he had his personal needs first and foremost to be met.
“Now that old woman and kid doesn’t sound so bad right now…”
Prev / Next

Welcome new readers. Please start with chapter one https://www.reddit.com/HFY/comments/11ai7iv/last_of_the_defenders_ch_01/
Previously https://www.reddit.com/HFY/comments/11x94mq/last_of_the_defenders_ch_26/
Next https://www.reddit.com/HFY/comments/11xv7ss/last_of_the_defenders_ch_28/
It took hours. Allah realized the sun was walking away when they finally stepped out of the great quorum hall. Ada’key’hamda and Allah’hem’nrah walked to either side of Li, a group of elders and tradesmen flocking behind. They carried charcoal and papers, hastily drawn maps and long scrolls of lists--names of the future displaced, materials to be salvaged, and more workers than she could count--as they jostled to be heard over each other.
Allah glanced over her shoulder as the wide double doors began to close, ears twitching frustratingly at Marn’charlie’weh who stood on the dais still, amber eyes glowing with barely contained fury. She had been the most vocal of the group surrounding her now, the Detractors Allah called them in her mind. Most of their arguments had been weighed and addressed--even bringing forth solutions to unforeseen problems as the idea of extending the roads had progressed from Li’s ultimatum into cooperative planning.
Both sides had compromised. The southern Smithhall and much more of the buildings between the outpost and the outer wall would be torn down. The proposed road to the north would be almost doubled in width too, to accommodate the increase in traffic. More importantly, to Allah’s way of thinking, were the inclusion of U’knock work crews into Li’s plan. Her people would oversee the construction of the roads and tearing down the city’s outer wall to make rapidly usable materials.
It had been that last point that nearly set Allah’hem’nrah and Marn’charlie’weh to blows. This had only been the second quorum she had been honored to sit in, neither of them as a member, but the vociferousness and vitriol that passed from mouth to ear had startled her.
“You claim a need to protect our people!” Allah could still remember Marn’charlie’weh shout. It had woken her from her dozing. “And with the other paw you rip down the very walls that shelter us! Holes in the inner ring? Dismantling the outer? Will you take all of our warrior caste with you to fight the bullies too? If they are bullies!”
Li had risen from the floor to confront the black elder, Marn’charlie’weh almost twice the height of the human even then, but a spotted paw thrust between them and Allah’hem’nrah walked to block her.
“I will not be shamed,” she roared, the only time the stalwart pride mother raised her voice, “by this council as to cower and hide while a cub fights for our lives!”
She had pointed to Allah who, at the time, was shamelessly curled up on a cushion. The cub, roused from her dozing, sat up, licked a forepaw and made a show of grooming her fur. It was not Allah’s fault she had fallen asleep; they would not stop talking! On and on they went, arguing over the most minute details only to circle back on a once settled matter and point out how doing one thing would somehow upset two others. Even when it did not. Especially when it did not!
“The warriors will fight in this war!” and the proclamation from Allah’hem’nrah had elicited a scattered cheer from half the quorum.
Li had spent much of the quorum kneeling on a Nameday cushion--anything larger than the small pad used to carry kits to the quorum when they opened their eyes would have swallowed her--sipping water from a clay cup and only put in suggestions when directly asked. Which became less and less frequent as the day dragged on toward night. Allah only realized how long they had been there when Jung reminded her to take her pill!
“I think,” Li had said, rising from her cushion and stretching, “we’ve settled what we can in one day.” Allah rose to follow, eager to be away from these screaming, argumentative adults. “If you have something of substance to add, I’ll be outside the south gate at sunrise,” and the last of her words had a hint of warning, “about an hour before the first tank is scheduled to roll out.”
With that, Li rose, bowed to the throne dais, and strode purposely from the great hall.
And now they walked, not as unwelcomed outlanders who should be chased off, but as people of importance whose presence was harkened by quorum members begging attention.
Or, at the least, Li did. Allah found herself carefully shuffled further and further away from her friend, carefully avoiding elders who jostled past her and ever more dangerously close to the taser belt’s kiss. They did not seem to care, even knowing what the belt could do after Li explained its workings and Guard Captain Fen’ja--belatedly arrived, washed and no longer twitching--had confirmed.
Perhaps, Allah considered, another demonstration was in order. Let one brush up against her? And through a wall? She set such petty thoughts aside. These people were preparing as if for a great storm coming to the land. Shoring up the city for a blizzard named Li.
And the bully horde that followed.
Allah contented herself with being persistently pushed back. If she could contribute, she would try. What she was asked, she would answer. And she would not fault Li. Her friend had been as good as her word and as they stepped outside the cub saw a scribe carrying a stack of posters in her paws, could hear a crier chant “Fey’arna of Hada’neha is requested and required to make his presence known to the nearest city guard. A reward is offered for his safe return.” Surely her father would be found soon, news of him at the least and Allah would go to him.
But for now, Allah had made a promise to Li. She would stand beside her friend…if these quorum members ever got out of the way…
Allah busied her eyes and ears in learning this new place. The smell was only U’knock, a packed down scent of many bodies forced together. It reminded her of the mob. Even as the sun was setting behind the tall buildings the street was alive. Tradeswomen and males carried their goods, families shopped at stalls and cubs ran in play or just from the joy of slipping a father’s leash for a time. The buildings were all taller than any hut, packed into squares and high roofed rectangles. Only the doors and the largest structures were domed. Even the glass in the new windows had straight, with sharp unnatural edges.
That was the word Umati’clam conjured to her: unnatural. Even with so many--because there were so many--of her people packed within, Allah felt more and more like a stranger in these confines. How long had she dreamed of walking the fabled city streets? Now she would give up her tail to curl up on her cushion in front of the fireplace, claw the rough burlap and kneed the straw inside to lay her head down and rest. To be home and safe again.
With her fa.
She was not expecting guards when they reached the wall. Four of the metal humans stepped outside the bubble as it popped, speaking in Demeter’s voice.
“Stand away from the entrance,” they said as one, raising black bowless Com’cha with those deadly tubes in their place. “This is your only warning.”
“I’ll do what I can,” Li said by way of apology as the throng of quorum members receded slowly from the opening wall, “but our timetable is going to be tight. Remember Allah’hem’nrah,” she continued, motioning Allah to step forward, “I want at least two level headed warriors per village. These people are not beggars or simply displaced. And they may be vital to rebuilding your home.”
“I do not see how,” the spotted warrior stepped back as Allah stepped closer, “but we will do as you command, Defender.”
“Uh uh,” Li admonished, wagging a finger at the massive U’knock.
“Li,” Allah’hem’nrah corrected, her lips tightening.
Li gestured to Allah again and the two stepped through.
“Could not your ambassador,” Ada’key’hamda called but did not step past the robot guards, gray fur bristling as the first night wind chilled her, “stay with us longer, Friend Li? We still have questions she might be uniquely capable of answering.”
Li and Allah both turned back, the human grinning with a light bow. “That holds true for me too,” the human said softly. “Unfortunately, Allah’s duties at the moment will be keeping her close to me. Any questions can be relayed through these droids,” she gestured to the armed machines. “They can relay any pertinent queries to Jung or myself through Demeter.”
The wall began to seal itself and Allah’hem’nrah raised one paw in the air, waving it back and forth. “Gud B’eye!” the spotted warrior called.
“Bài bài,” Li wiggled her fingers and the massive U’knock chuffed. As the hole in the wall sealed, the sounds of the city silenced. Allah looked up to see the bubble shimmer in place.
Li slumped her shoulders, stretched and yawned. “Now that’s over with,” she said tiredly, “you want something to eat?”
“I am honored to share your table again,” Allah nodded a bow of thanks as Li turned toward the spire, “but what ‘other’ duties do I have?”
“Mostly?” Li winked as she glanced over her shoulder, “Staying clear of Ada’key’hamda. And Marn’charlie’weh, for that matter.” The human frowned at the blank expression on Allah’s face. “Don’t get me wrong, I like that old gray ‘māo’,” Jung translated the word as a subspecies of Earth native animals with an image that explained much of Li’s previous jibes, “but I don’t trust her any further than I can throw her. Or Allah’hem’nrah if it comes to it. Not fully.”
“Why not?” Allah turned back to the closed wall gate. The pair had quickly become the most vocal supporters of Li’s side during the quorum. “They seemed to trust you.”
“Allah’hem’nrah does,” Li confessed, “or at least she believes me a ‘defender’ and understands the threat the swarmers pose. Sounds like she was breastfed war stories as a kit,” Li scratched her head, combing her hair with her fingers, “but she’s gonna do what she thinks is best for her people. And that might not be what's best for the U’knock. Or winning this war.”
Allah considered this. She wanted to say an honored elder would not be so dishonest but…Ana’nut’hana’s betrayal of her father…their exile reminded the cub that no matter how unified the U’knock love of Defenders and hate for bullies was supposed to be, a shallow cup could not hold deep water. If her own mayor could do such to her and Fey’arna then what were strangers capable of?
“And Ada’key’hamda?” she asked with interest. They had passed the landing pad and rapidly closed on the doors to the spire.
“That woman?” Li grinned lopsidedly as the double doors whooshed open, “is what my people call a ‘kingmaker’,” she waved away Allah’s questions, “it means she is a pure blood politician; shrewd and devious. She only sided with us because she knew where the winds were blowing.”
“I hope,” Allah confided, stepping into the noisy chaos of the garage, “that you are wrong.” Her voice rose to a shout above the hissing, clanging commotion.
“I hope I’m not!” Li answered as they hurried past the noisy room and into the hallway. Once the noise of work had died to a dull den she explained. “We’re going to need somebody that conniving on our side to keep Marn’charlie’weh in check. Um…at bay.”
“Jung explained chess,” Allah answered the unspoken question. “And go.”
“Gooood!” Li’s smile must have been more predatory than intended, Allah assumed, as the human showed her teeth. “I’ve got a board in my quarters aboard the Stardancer. Fancy a game when he gets back?”
“I would rather know,” Allah nodded at the offer, “why you need two warriors to travel to the villages.”
“Ah,” Li turned at a crossroads in the hallway, then looked up “Demeter, where’s the nearest mess hall?”
The pleasant voice had returned as a blue beam illuminated. “Please follow the indicated footpath!” Li quickly strode onward.
“Is there any food available for carbon based consumption?”
There was no response as Li and Allah followed the glowing blue line. “Demeter, is there any food available for carbon based consumption?”
“Stores are restocked from the garden every fifty years, cooked and freeze dried for long term access! We have a selection of prepackaged meals ready to eat! Just add hot water and--”
“Demeter,” Allah interrupted as they entered a large room filled with long beaches and tables, “Please be quiet.” Then, to Li she said “You are avoiding my question.”
“I wasn’t avoiding,” Li said in a scolding tone, “I was stalling. There’s a difference. Demeter? Where’s the food!?!”
“Li,” Allah’s tone was stern and pleading at the same time, “Why?”
The human stopped in the center of the room, shoulders slumping. “I kinda wished you’d’ve been awake for that part. It didn’t go over too well with the quorum either.”
“Stop stalling,” Allah admonished, “What is wrong?”
“Allah,” Li stood in the center of the room, raised and then lowered her hands. “Allah,“ she said, “I need you to prepare yourself. What happened last night was only the opening salvo. Things are going to get worse. A lot worse before we’re done here.”
“The U’knock are accustomed to hardship,” Allah straightened. “We will persevere.“
Li shook her head. “That’s not what I meant. I know your people are strong. I know they’re proud, and I believe they will fight for their home. But are they willing to leave their lives behind to do it?”
“Leave?” Allah pursed her lips and thought. “Why would we need to leave their lives?“
“We don’t have a full planetary shield around this rock,” Li answered. “The safest place for them is going to be in Umati’clam. They’ll have to relocate. All of the villages will have to relocate.
“And,” from the expression on the human’s face, the news she gave was worse than it sounded when she said “Some of them might not make it.”

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Greetings my dear traveler. Scrolling past all the god-forsaken posts from above must have been tiring! Here, sit down and have an ice cream (DM for free teddy bear as well).
I am happy you stopped by! Heard you were looking for long-term companion? Perhaps short term as well? Absolutely no worries, I am here to adapt to your needs! Are you in search of a good loyal and honest friend, who appreciates you every day, with overwhelming inspiration and motivation? Perhaps a shoulder to cry on? Someone you could tell all your secrets and deepest desires without fear of being judged? A person who you could watch tv shows/anime/movies, listen to music together, send memes and play any games? From Card of Humanity to Dark Souls? Say no more my friend. I am here to invest my full free time into you!
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Do I sound like Sims 2 NPC to you? Yes? Do I wanna write another The Bible in this post about myself? probably not. In any case, if you are interested, please do shoot me a message!! I cannot wait to hear from you and invest all my time into you and getting to know you! Let's face the deepest depths of despair together. Hey, if ya do not like me, you can always run away like Romanian with a TV. If you aren't interested, that is fine as well! I wish you an amazing day stranger and love you lots.
If you came this far, comment "beans". Now I gotta go, my cat is barking.
Sincerely,
Your biggest fan

Greetings my dear traveler. Scrolling past all the god-forsaken posts from above must have been tiring! Here, sit down and have an ice cream (DM for free teddy bear as well).
I am happy you stopped by! Heard you were looking for long-term companion? Perhaps short term as well? Absolutely no worries, I am here to adapt to your needs! Are you in search of a good loyal and honest friend, who appreciates you every day, with overwhelming inspiration and motivation? Perhaps a shoulder to cry on? Someone you could tell all your secrets and deepest desires without fear of being judged? A person who you could watch tv shows/anime/movies, listen to music together, send memes and play any games? From Card of Humanity to Dark Souls? Say no more my friend. I am here to invest my full free time into you!
Some brief NPC facts about this mf: - European - gym, combat sports, reading philosophy, writing, journaling and meditation are my hobbies - favorite movies are Shrek 2 (yes, 2 in particular, no debate) and John Wick - metal/rock fan - had a husky long time ago, his name was "Baby [My first name]" - tried making pancakes recently but slapped one onto the fuckin ceiling... stil have picture of that wonder - speaking 4 languages - master of Dad jokes - University student - 21 years old and did modeling for a day... or two. They said they would call me again but they never did... guess my ugly mug was too much for them LMAOO
Do I sound like Sims 2 NPC to you? Yes? Do I wanna write another The Bible in this post about myself? probably not. In any case, if you are interested, please do shoot me a message!! I cannot wait to hear from you and invest all my time into you and getting to know you! Let's face the deepest depths of despair together. Hey, if ya do not like me, you can always run away like Romanian with a TV. If you aren't interested, that is fine as well! I wish you an amazing day stranger and love you lots.
If you came this far, comment "beans". Now I gotta go, my cat is barking.
Sincerely,
Your biggest fan

Greetings my dear traveler. Scrolling past all the god-forsaken posts from above must have been tiring! Here, sit down and have an ice cream (DM for free teddy bear as well).
I am happy you stopped by! Heard you were looking for long-term companion? Perhaps short term as well? Absolutely no worries, I am here to adapt to your needs! Are you in search of a good loyal and honest friend, who appreciates you every day, with overwhelming inspiration and motivation? Perhaps a shoulder to cry on? Someone you could tell all your secrets and deepest desires without fear of being judged? A person who you could watch tv shows/anime/movies, listen to music together, send memes and play any games? From Card of Humanity to Dark Souls? Say no more my friend. I am here to invest my full free time into you!
Some brief NPC facts about this mf: - European - gym, combat sports, reading philosophy, writing, journaling and meditation are my hobbies - favorite movies are Shrek 2 (yes, 2 in particular, no debate) and John Wick - metal/rock fan - had a husky long time ago, his name was "Baby [My first name]" - tried making pancakes recently but slapped one onto the fuckin ceiling... stil have picture of that wonder - speaking 4 languages - master of Dad jokes - University student - 21 years old and did modeling for a day... or two. They said they would call me again but they never did... guess my ugly mug was too much for them LMAOO
Do I sound like Sims 2 NPC to you? Yes? Do I wanna write another The Bible in this post about myself? probably not. In any case, if you are interested, please do shoot me a message!! I cannot wait to hear from you and invest all my time into you and getting to know you! Let's face the deepest depths of despair together. Hey, if ya do not like me, you can always run away like Romanian with a TV. If you aren't interested, that is fine as well! I wish you an amazing day stranger and love you lots.
If you came this far, comment "beans". Now I gotta go, my cat is barking.
Sincerely,
Your biggest fan

​
Griger Kel-Am watched from his cell in the old town jailhouse as workers busily erected a scaffolding in the courtyard below. It was shaping up nicely, he thought with an appreciative nod; the skeletal beams reminded him of the bones of dead animals in the Karel Desert and that comparison almost disturbed him.
Which was no easy feat. Griger had seen the worst the world had to offer. He fought beasts in the Staygin Mountains, fended off feral bandits in the Jarel Plains, and weathered more attacks, fights, battles, and death than most people even knew existed. Nothing on earth could rattle him. He couldn’t afford to let himself be shaken. Life, he had learned, was like a surging storm tide. You either stand strong against it, or you get knocked down and swept away. Griger refused to be swept away. He refused to wind up like the old bones he stumbled across on the North Road and in the snowy stepps at the top of the world. A man must be hard and stoic to survive, and he must be harder and colder to thrive.
Despite his grizzled face, many scars, dead eyes, and unseemly facial hair, Griger, a sword for hire since before the Great Plague, had always thrived.
Sighing, Griger left the window and walked over to the door; three brisk paces. He threaded his arms through the bars and tried his best to look up the corridor. In the cells across from him, other men, their faces dirty and white, cowered, waiting for their judgement.
Their open fear disgusted Griger.
Cowards.
Griger wasn’t afraid to die. Dying was easy; you closed your eyes and went to sleep. Living...living was hard, every day a knock down, drag out fight for dominance against something. Outlaws, nature, your own inner darkness. He did not seek death, but he welcomed it. The prospect of a noose tightening around his neck, of his body jerking and dancing before many jeering eyes and spitting mouths, however, almost bothered him.
But as a wise old man he once knew had said, This too shall pass.
A sardonic smile touched Griger’s chapped lips and he shook his head like a man who couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Of all the things he’d done in his life to deserve a hanging, self-defense is what did him in. Ha.
Two weeks ago, he was following the river from the North, on foot and alone save for his sword and his rucksack. He stopped at a tide pool to drink, and was beset by a man with a knife. In his frock coat and rubberized boots, he was too well dressed to be a highwayman; he never spoke a word until he lay in the grass, his throat laid open and gushing rich red blood. “Scoundrel,” he gurgled.
Griger relieved him of his boots and pocketbook and carried on. Before dusk, he came across the village and rented a room at the inn. Women in cheap, homespun dresses haunted the halls, knocking at doors to sell their company, and Griger, lying in bed by the flickering light of a lamp, was considering spending the rest of the money on one when three constables broke down the door.
The man he killed, they told him later, was the son of the mayor. At that moment, Griger knew he was in trouble.
They refused to believe that the son attacked first and pointed to the things Griger had taken from his as proof of overland piracy, theft, and murder. He was tried in a packed courtroom and found guilty, standing tall and proud but alone as no lawyer in the land would take his case.
Out in the courtyard, someone shouted, and a team of horses neighed, Griger, sitting on the edge of his cot, looked up at the window. The light was getting weaker as night approached. Shadows, long and black, fell through the slats and made unwholesome shapes across the earthen floor. Down the hall, a man cried out for water, and elsewhere, someone raked a metal cup back and forth across the bars. Would they hang him tonight, Griger wondered, or would they wait for dawn?
“You,” someone spat.
Griger looked up to find the mayor standing at the bars, his bloated face filled with hatred. Another man was with him, this one taller and thinner. They were both clad in the finest garments, but the stranger was undoubtedly better suited. Griger took him for a government official.
“What do you want?” Griger asked, an edge in his voice.
The mayor opened his mouth to speak, but the stranger silenced him. “My name is Urick Farbin. I’m the governor of Ezk Province and I have a proposition for you.”
“What’s that?”
Farbin flashed a tight smile.
It looked to Griger like he wouldn’t be hanged at all.
And that made him smile.
***
Griger watched the countryside pass slowly by, all green hills, trickling brooks, and dense thickets. The occasional straw hut loomed out of the wilderness like an antsy thief, and six miles out of the village, they passed a stately manor house that could only have belonged to the mayor.
It was mid-afternoon and the overcast day wrapped itself around Griger like a wet blanket. The previous night, Governor Farbin sprang Griger from his cell and brought him to the inn, where he was kept under armed guard. Griger spent most of the evening in a straight back chair and whittling. You don’t have to worry, he said to the sentry standing at the door, I’m not going anywhere.
And he wasn’t. He was not an honor bound man by any stretch, but Farbin saved his life, and Griger reckoned that earned him a little loyalty.
The guards didn’t stand down, but Griger didn’t blame them. He wouldn’t have either.
In the morning, they set off in a horse drawn carriage, heading northwest along the Western Road. Now, hours later, Griger sat next to the Governor, who wore a dark cloak and wide-brimmed hat befitting his office. Beside him, the driver held the reins and stared ahead with the practiced indifference of a man used to tuning out things he wasn’t supposed to hear.
“Will you explain to me what I’m doing?” Griger asked.
Farbin was quiet for a moment, then he looked up at the sky, the muted light bathing his craggy features. “Your file says that you’ve done work for the Government.”
“Some,” Griger replied.
“You’ve handled things of a singular nature,” the old man continued. “Things that most other men have never dreamed possible.”
Gringer nodded. He had. His only oath was to himself, and he worked for whoever paid him the highest sum. Men like him were called mercenaries but he preferred to think of himself as a businessman.
“There’s a matter in a nearby village that has been ongoing for quite some time,” Farbin said, picking his words carefully. “I have sent my best agents and they’ve done nothing for it. When the paperwork on you came to my office, I checked your name, as I do all condemned men, and knew at once that you were the man for this job.”
Griger was almost touched. “What’s the job?”
The Governor turned to face Griger, his expression bloodless and sober, as though he had something great yet terrible to impart upon him. “Do you believe in werewolves?”
“Yes,” he said, “I do.”
“Have you ever killed one?”
Griger hesitated. “No,” he said, “not personally, but I was with a party that did.”
Five years before, Griger wintered in a village among the steep foothills guarding the forbidding expanse of Mount Grez. In the deepest, darkest days of the freeze, local livestock began to die, ripped asunder and strewn across snowy fields like trash. Wolf tracks larger than any Griger had ever seen led to and from each scene, and at night, high, ghostly howls rose above the shrieking wind, curdling the blood of even the most sturdy men.
After a watchman on patrol was attacked and gutted in the main square, the men of the village banded together and tracked the beast, eventually cornering it in a cave near a frozen river. Even if he lived to be a thousand, Griger would never forget the monster they encountered. Seven feet tall, coated in matted gray fur, its face canine yet human, its eyes blazed with the fires of hell, and as the men approached, it snapped and snarled, the sounds it made so close to words that even now, Griger wondered if it were trying to speak. They beset it with swords and torches, and when the dust settled, five men were dead and three were wounded. The wolf lay crumpled on the ground, decapitated and aflame. Even with no head, even with its heart divorced from its body, it screeched as the fire consumed it, a high, hitching wail that haunted Griger’s dreams for many moons after.
Farbin nodded. “I figured as much. A man as well-travelled as you has to have seen such things.”
He went on to explain that a suspected werewolf was loose in the countryside around the village of Koreth, a tiny fishing port on the sloped and muddy banks of the Rey River. Three weeks before, sheep and horses began to turn up dead, their bodies laid open and their intestines pulled from their stomachs. Before long, travellers along the Western Road started to die in a similar manner. Every time a new victim appeared, officials found large wolf tracks and strands of fur nearby.
Several nights ago, it broke into the home of a land baron and killed him, his wife, and his daughter. His young son survived, but was blinded in one eye.
‘It was a massive beast,’ the boy told the Governor, a personal friend of the baron. ‘It stood seven feet tall, was as wide as it was long, and had the snarling face of a man mixed with a dog.’
“You want me to kill it,” Griger said. It was not a question.
“Yes.”
The carriage jostled as its big wheels splashed through ruts and puddles. “And in return…?”
“You’ll get a full and unconditional pardon.”
Hmm. Griger considered the offer carefully, even though he was in no position to bargain. “Alright,” he said at last, “I’ll do it.”
They arrived at the village three hours later. Perched on the banks of the lazy river, it seemed a single estate rather than a town. A stone wall, roughly a dozen feet high, enclosed it, pitched roofs visible beyond. Two guards in helmets and chainmail, swords on their hips and crossbows in their hands, stood at the gate, their expressions stony and as hardscrabble as the fields sloping away from the walls.
Inside, tiny buildings lined narrow dirt streets and people in plain, homespun clothes went about their business, pushing carts, hawking vegetables, and playing dice. Old men sat in canned chairs before the town pub and a group of boys chased each other back and forth through shadowed warrens, their faces smudged and weatherbeaten beyond their years. Chickens and pigs, both plump and hale, ran free, the former flapping their impotent wings and the latter snorting happily as they wallowed and shat. Griger spotted a blacksmith in his quarters, striking an anvil with a hammer, and wondered idly if he had any interesting items for sale.
“The people here are stubborn and refuse to flee,” Farbin said.
Griger faced forward. “These types usually are.”
“You are not to worry about their safety,” Farbin warned. “They can see to themselves. Your only concern is to be the wolf.”
“Understood.”
The driver parked near the town inn and tied the horse to a hitching post while Griger and Farbin got out. Griger rolled his neck and flexed his shoulders. After so many years of walking wherever he went, he was unaccustomed to sitting for long periods and inevitably ended any long, stationary trek sore.
Past the batwing doors, a shadowy lobby lit by candlelight greeted them. Farbin led Griger directly up the stairs and to a tidy room with a single, neatly made bed and a desk beneath the window. “These are your quarters,” Farbin said.
“Spacious,” Griger said unsarcastically. He sat on the edge of the bed. “What leads do you have on this wolf?”
“None beyond what I’ve told you,” Farbn said. “My men have scoured the countryside but they haven’t found a thing.”
Griger hummed. “No tracks? Droppings? Nothing at all?”
“Not beyond what I’ve told you.”
That was odd. Werewolves rarely strayed far from their den. Unless they were of the rare half-breed that turned upon the cycle of the moon, man at day and beast by night. But those were as common as an honest man in the High Council - not very damned common at all.
“What are you thinking?” Farbin asked.
Griger said what was on his mind.
“But those aren’t real,” the Governor said, a hint of confusion in his voice.
“I tell you they are.”
Farbin’s brow furrowed with incredulity. “A man cannot simply change his form, nor can a wolf, for that matter. It goes against all logic.”
All Griger could do was spread his hands. That a man - even a large one - could transform into a werewolf (and that a werewolf could shrink back to the size of a mere man) did defy logic. Griger could not account for it, but he knew it to be so, and he said as much. Farbin, shaken by the confidence in Griger’s tone, nervously scratched the back of his neck and looked constipated. “Put aside what you think you know and ask yourself. What if it is a wolf-man?”
“But what if it isn’t?” Farbin countered.
Griger ticked his head to the side in acquiescence. “Maybe it’s not. Maybe your men have failed to uncover a den large enough to house a seven foot tall monster. Maybe they’ve been looking up each other’s backsides instead of where they should be.”
A dark shadow flickered across Farbin’s face. “My men are highly trained and highly skilled.”
“That’s why you came to me.”
Farbin fumed. “I came to you because you have experience in such things.”
“Right,” Griger said. “I do. And I’m telling you - in my expert opinion - that if there is no den, the wolf is a changeling. I cannot explain the science behind how and why it is a changeling. I don’t know how it can happen...but it does. You have to consider the possibility that you are looking for a phantom, that your wolf may be out there right this second ploughing a field or herding sheep and not asleep in a cave waiting to be found and made.”
Farbin turned away and put his hands on his hips. No shoulder had ever been colder, and for a second, Griger thought the old man was going to send him back to the gallows. “Alright,” Farbin finally said, “suppose it is a half-breed. What then?”
“I want to see where the latest attack happened.”
A half an hour later, Griger and Farbin stood before a large stone house with a slate roof and wide windows. A dirt drive looped around an ornate fountain and tall trees rustled in the new breeze. Several Provincial Guardsmen accompanied them, all with swords and crossbows and one, the commander, with a rare flintlock on his hip. Farbin led Gringer to the west side of the structure. “The wolf came in through the servants’ entrance,” he explained. A set of paw prints led to the door and Gringer knelt to study them. Roughly half a foot apart, they were slightly larger than any other he had seen.
Inside, the house was dark and cold, shadows clustered in corners like demons waiting for the fall of night to advance their ghoulish aims. Dried blood stained the wooden floors and spackled the bare walls. “Has anyone seen this creature and lived but the boy?”
Farbin shook his head. “No.” His face was white and strained, the somber, funeral atmosphere affecting him.
“You’ve told me everything?”
“Yes.”
Griger nodded to himself. If the wolf were a changeling, someone, somewhere likely would have seen it coming or going. That was a strike against his theory. On the other hand, there were likely dozens of isolated farms and homesteads scattered through the surrounding countryside. The wolf could be anyone from anywhere.
“I want to talk to the locals,” Griger said as he and Farbin walked back to the carriage.
“Right.”
“I’ll also need a team of men at my disposal,” Griger said. “And a sword.”
They were sitting across from each other in the carriage’s enclosed cab. Without, the sky was beginning to cool to purple and evening gloom stealthy crept from the forest. “We’ll get you one.”
“It must be made with silver,” Griger said.
Farbin frowned. “Silver is a poor alloy for sword-making.”
“But it’s the only alloy for werewolf killing,” Griger said. “It shouldn’t be made entirely of silver, but there must be some in it, the more, the better.
Farbin nodded that he understood.
By the time they made it back to the village, full dark had fallen. The streets stood deserted, the animals locked up for the night and most of the people hunkered in their homes. A few guards walked the lanes and dooyards, bows and swords at the ready, and a stray cat with no tail slunk furtively between piles of refuse, its ears laid flat against its skull and its fur matted and crisscrossed with scars from battles past.
The only activity was at the pub attached to the inn, where lights burned in the segmented windows and the chatter of many voices drifted into the street, occasionally flaring in laughter or song. Apparently, those hearty souls refused to let a wolf stand between them and their end-of-day festivities.
Griger’s respect for them increased.
Before entering, Farbin and Griger called on the blacksmith, a burly man with a bald head and a mustache that reminded Griger of walruses he had killed and eaten at the top of the world. Griger explained his need and impressed upon the man a sense of urgency. “I need it as soon as you can possibly have it ready.”
The blacksmith nodded gamely. “I’ll have it by dawn.”
Farbin took out his purse and paid, then they made their way to the inn.
Inside, a roaring fire crackled in the stone hearth and lamps on the walls sent shadows flickering across the floor. A dozen men sat at the bar with stines of beer and a half dozen more occupied the many tables in the middle of the room. A barkeep kept the drinks flowing while a pretty waitress with her blonde hair done up in an elaborate braid like a golden tiara brought trays of beer and pretzels to the tables.
Griger and Farbin sat at an empty table near the fireplace and Farbin removed his gloves. “Men will make merry even while the world burns around them,” he mused.
“Why not,” Griger said, “they can’t do it in the grave.”
The women came over and they ordered a pitcher of beer and a sandwich each. While they waited, Griger went to every man one-by-one and asked them about the wolf. They responded, to a man, with an eye roll or a dismissive laugh. None were worried in the slightest. One man lifted his brow in a pitying sort of way and looked Griger up and down as though he were mad. “Werewolves? Why, those were banished from the Realm centuries ago, it’s all much ado about nothing.”
“It’s a big wolf,” the barkeep said, “and dangerous too, that much is fact. But it’s a lot of hysteria. People today are too goddamn soft. In my time, we had wolves and bears too. If they acted out of line, we hunted them down and cut their heads off.”
The last man Griger came to was a wispy, white-haired oldster with rheumy eyes and three days’ worth of stubble covering his angular chin. Baggy brown clothes, old and wrinkled and caked in the dirt of the field, hung slack from his scrawny frame, and his long, spindly fingers threaded through the handle of his mug like fleshless bone. If Griger had ever seen a man who bore the official title “Town Drunk” he wouldn’t look the part any more than the old man.
Before Griger could ask him a single question, he spoke in a rusty voice that conjured images of graveyard gates in the dark Province of Helem. “I seen it,” he said, “and it weren’t no regular wolf neither.”
The barkeep sniffed. “You see lots of things, Sel. Like them little pink elephants.”
A wave of mean-spirited laughter ran through the bar, and Sel’s jaw clenched. Griger sensed that Sel was often made sport of at the bar.
Ignoring the other, Griger asked, “You’ve seen it?”
Sel nodded and held up three fingers. “Thrice, in fact,” he said with a belch.
“Tell me.”
The old timer looked up at him with a twist of suspicion. “Down by the road leadin’ up,” he said.
“All three times?”
“All three times,” Sel confirmed.
Once a mason, Sel had moved to the village ten years before to try his hand at farming, he explained. His homestead, comprising five acres, a tumbledown barn, and a decomposing shack masquerading as a house, sat below the walls, in a hollow between the hill and the river. Many nights, he sat on the front porch and “communed with the King” (King Rum, Griger assumed). From that perch, he witnessed “The damned beast” loping toward town. “The first time, I seen’t it over in the road,” he said, pronouncing road as rud. “I have good eyesight and I knew right off it weren’t normal, so I jumped outta my chair and ducked down real low so ways he couldn’t see me.”
Sel couldn’t provide a description of the wolf beyond “near eight damn feet tall and built like a mountain” but Griger didn’t need one. The old man’s story supported his supposition that the wolf was coming from somewhere else and not a den in the hills. Why would it come down the middle of the road each time? The only thing to the south was the river and open fields dotted by stands of forest, all of which Farbin’s men had already searched.
Werewolves are nocturnal creatures who sequester themselves somewhere dark and dry during the day. Farbin’s men should have found it by now. That they hadn’t suggested that it was a changeling.
Thanking Sel for his help, Griger went back to the table and sat across from Farbin. “The baron’s house lies in the direction of the river,” he said, more to himself than to the Governor. “What of the other attacks?”
“Mainly in that area,” Farbin said, “why?”
“The changeling - and that’s what it is - comes from across the river. How many homesteads are there beyond the banks?”
“At least two dozen,” Farbin said.
Griger crossed his arms and thought for a moment. “I want your men, tomorrow, out there going door to door with garlic. Make everyone they come across smell it and anyone who sneezes is put under watch.”
The Governor looked stricken. “But...why?”
“Changelings are allergic to garlic,” Griger said.
Farbin pursed his lips in contemplation. “Alright,” he said, “I’ll have them start at first light.”
After dining, they adjourned to their rooms, Farbin on one side of the hall and Griger on the other. A team of six Guardsmen took up position in the empty saloon and kept watch, ready to roll out at a moment’s notice. Griger threw the window open and perched on the ledge, the night breeze washing over him and rustling his graying hair. He rolled a cigarette, lit it with the bedside candle, and looked up at the glowing face of the waxing moon. Tomorrow night it would be full and the changeling would be compelled to turn and hunt as the tide was compelled to crest. It could come tonight still, but unless it was killed, it would return tomorrow for certain, mad with bloodlust.
Well past midnight, Griger blew out the candle and retired. The mattress was far too soft and it took him nearly a half hour of tossing, turning, and muttering curses to himself to find a position he liked. Once he did, he fell into a light sleep from which he was aroused near dawn by a knock at the door. One of the guards informed him that the blacksmith was finished with his sword, and after dressing, he and Farbin went to collect it. Comprising a simple blade with a guard and a grip, it was far from the most opulent weapon Griger had ever wielded, but it was well-suited to his needs and fit comfortably in his hand.
Back at the inn, Farbin gathered every available man under his command, including the constable and his three deputies, and ordered them to sweep the countryside as Griger had suggested the night before. They showed no reaction despite their lord’s strange request, and departed in a single file line.
The saloon opened for breakfast at six and Griger and Farbin each had a plate of eggs, bacon, and beans. People began to drift in as they ate, Sel the Drunkard at the head of the pack. The maiden, who quartered somewhere upstairs, came down in a simple white dress beneath a waist apron, and Griger’s eyes tracked her as she carried out her functions. The dress - loose and high cut - revealed nothing of her bosom, but pulled tight across her bottom when she leaned over to set food and coffee in front of her guests. Their gazes met, and her eyes flicked quickly away like two timid minnows in a fish bowl.
She was beautiful.
She reminded him of someone.
His mind went back to the jagged mountains atop the world, to a little cabin where weary travellers waited out the snowstorms that raged sometimes for weeks in the winter. There, in one of the most isolated outposts of the Realm, lived a woman Griger had known. She was tall and gaunt whereas the barmaid was average and healthy, her hair was black to the maiden’s blonde, but their eyes were the same breathtaking hazel. Now, staring at his plate, his chest stirred in a way that it hadn’t in years.
He didn’t like it.
“...else,” Farbin was saying.
“Yeah,” Griger said, as though he knew what Farbin had said. Now, the woman he loved one winter was on his mind and his mood was verging on foul. He recalled the way her hair brushed the creamy slope of her throat when she turned her head, the sound of her laughter, how her heels dug into his behind, urging him deeper unto her.
He was young, then, and a fool. People, he learned later, come and people go. Loving someone...indeed even hating them...was pointless, for in a breath of summer wind, they’re gone.
After finishing with breakfast, Farbin requested a metal tub be filled with water so that he could bathe. While he did that, Griger threaded his sword through his belt and walked down to the river, keeping his eyes open for wolf tracks. He spotted a few in the dirt edging the road, all pointing in the direction from which he had just come, and squatted down to examine one more closely.
Just before reaching the water, Sel’s farm appeared on the right, the main house seeming to sag in the middle as though under the burden of years and the field out back overgrown and gone to seed. The place looked as though it had died, come back to life, then died again. The screen door, which naturally hung askew, banged open, and Sel himself backed out butt first, a ceramic pot in his hands. He turned, saw Griger, and hesitated, then ducked his head and scurried down the stairs, disappearing around the side of the house Griger lingered a moment, then followed, tangles of grass pulling at his boots. In the back, a clear patch boasted several pots like the one Sel had come out with, each blossoming with an assortment of multicolored flowers. Sel knelt before one and heaped rich soil in with his hands. A gust of wind flipped his lank, white hair back and forth, and a satisfied smile played at the corners of his thin mouth.
“You garden?” Griger asked.
Sel shot him a dirty look. “I do,” he said, a defensive edge in his voice. He stopped, favored the flowers with a sober look, and added, “These plants are the only friends I’ve got.” He chuckled self-consciously.
“Plants seem like they’d make poor friends,” Griger said. “When the first frost comes, they leave you.”
Sel ticked his head to one side in acquiescence. “Tis better to have loved and lost than not to have loved at all.”
An image of the girl at the top of the world flashed across Griger’s mind, and for a moment he could feel, feel, her presence. “I don’t believe that,” Griger said. “Loss is hard for a man who’s known love.”
“Still better than never knowing it at all,” Sel said and got stiffly to his feet. He dusted his hands on his pants.
“You’ve never lost someone,” Griger said.
“You’ve never loved someone,” Sel countered.
Griger stiffened. Mouthy old bastard, yes I have.
“What do you want?” Sel asked.
“I wanted to ask you about the werewolf.”
Sel’s face crinkled. “I told you everything I know.” He started walking back to the front of the house, and Griger fell in beside him.
“Is there anywhere around here you think a werewolf might live?” Griger asked. “Caves? Dens? Anything.”
“There’s some caves about,” Sel said, “other than that, I can’t say.”
They were on the porch now, Sel holding the door open.
“Can you tell me your story one more time?” Griger asked. “Maybe it might jog something you forgot.”
Sel sighed. “I don’t have nothin’, okay?”
He started to go inside, but Griger stopped him. “Please?”
The old man looked at him, then sighed. “Fine. Come in.”
They sat in Sel’s tiny and cluttered parlor. The furniture was as old and threadbare as the man who owned it, and the simple walls were crowded with old photos, many of them featuring a smiling woman with dark hair. She looked nothing like the girl at the top of the world, but Griger was reminded of her anyway. “Your wife?” he asked.
Sel, seated in an armchair across from him, busied himself pouring Griger a cup of tea. “Yes,” he said shortly.
From his tone - and the woman’s absence - Griger inferred that she was dead. “I’m sorry.”
Sel’s hand shook as he pushed the cup across the table. “So am I,” he said.
“Children?” Griger asked.
“Three,” Sel said. “Two boys and a girl.” Tears crept into the old man’s faded eyes and he fixed his gaze on a point over Griger’s shoulder. Open displays of emotion made Griger uncomfortable, and he shifted in his seat, sorry that he had brought the topic up. “We were married thirty years,” Sel said. His lips trembled and Griger thought he was going to break down crying. Instead, he smiled. “Those were good years.”
Griger nodded to himself. “I bet.”
He must not have sounded convincing, because Sel creased his brow. “Are you married?”
“No.”
“Ever loved someone?”
“No.”
Sel looked at him with a frank directness that bordered on mind-reading, and though it wasn’t possible, Griger could almost imagine the old man was seeing into his mind...and his heart. “You’re a liar.”
Griger considered his reply for a long time. “When I was a boy,” he said. “I thought I was in love.”
“What happened?”
Perhaps the old man had cast some kind of pall over him...or maybe he was in a rare mood...but Griger heard himself answer honestly. “I left her.”
A heavy silence lay between them.
“You left her?”
Griger nodded. “I moved on. She had her ways and I had mine. I didn’t see us working.”
“You regret it.”
“Yes,” Griger responded instantly. “I wish I tried.”
Sel nodded understandingly. “All boys make mistakes. Some are just luckier than others, I reckon.” He laughed, his posture relaxing, and Griger realized he was starting to like the old bastard.
“True,” he said. “Now your story…”
Sighing, Sel lifted a hand. “I don’t have much ways else to say.” He ran through his story just as he had before, with no additions or subtractions.
Griger nodded that he was satisfied, and got to his feet. “That’ll be all.”
Sel walked him to the door and stuck out his hand. “That damned thing’s a monster,” he said as they shook, “you watch yourself.”
“I can handle a werewolf,” Griger assured him.
Later on, after returning to the inn, Griger and Farbin rode out to meet the men on the other side of the river, catching up to them at a fork in the road. “No one’s sneezed or broken out, sire,” Farbin’s second-in-command, a tall, rodent-faced man, reported.
“Expand the dragnet,” Griger said.
Rat-face looked at Farbin for confirmation, and the Governor nodded.
They would find the wolf...or the wolf would find them.
Griger wanted the former, but would settle for the latter.
If he had to.

Good evening beautiful SDs and SB,
If some of you would lend me your eyes and advise me as I consider on seeking a sugar arrangement, I will share in advance that is is a long post and I understand the desire not to read it. .
I am a 28-year-old Ethnic Dominican American born woman. I am 5’6” with an hourglass figure, although unfortunately I discovered a Popeyes chicken sandwich, so my hips and derrière got a little bit wider. My best attributes are my legs, eyes and smile. I’ve had offers in the past, but I am not one to jump into something when I am ignorant in how it works. Dating has been taxing for me as I am a different type of woman from many, which is why I am seeking advice on where or not I will pursue this lifestyle. I will describe my personality and way of thinking to be transparent, with hopes I get effective, constructive criticism.
I am a military veteran, I did administrative work, I am also in college as well. Due to challenges, I’ve overcome, I look at money differently. I serve the veteran community through nonprofit work that sometimes makes me dirty. I have been married and have children who are now independent. I no longer have fun dating because I’ve always been one to provide and pay with nothing in return. I started the process of switching things up for lack of a better term.
I seek mental and emotional stimulation, in addition to physical. If I embark on this journey of the “sweet” life, I wouldn’t only be seeking intimacy from my SD, but also conversation and mentorship. I am the type that wants to be in her feminine with the potential SD but apply the knowledge given when I’m away from him and in my masculine for work. I am the type that would like to get dressed and go to dinner, we engage in conversation about business, and I ask questions, but I would like to flirt and touch him sensually and end the night with a bang. Sex is healthy, I embrace it, but I’d like to leave with more than orgasm and money. If my growth is stimulated, so am I. If the arrangement is long distant or platonic, I will accept that of course and proceed accordingly. I would like to have a friendship with this SD, if possible, when and if it ends where we both come out of it with more than we entered in it with. I find learning fun; I'd like to have a conversation about the markets and needs of rapidly growing cities such as mine (which is on track to be the 5th largest city by 2030 and is in a housing deficit for first time home buyers that reside in this city as the house market drove the prices up since so many Californians came down here with cash in hand)
I am also not one to spend money frivolously, for example, If I am given 2k, I wouldn’t necessarily spend that on one or two items, I won’t buy luxury for myself. I find the thrill of shopping on She-in or some clearance event or put that money towards my business or I may save it for a cosmetic procedure (I am saving for a new set of twins, 400 CCs). I may invest it or use it with an organization to be a sponsor. But with that being said, I would not of course reject luxuries if given, I would never be ungrateful, I just don't want to seem odd if my SD ask if I'd like to go to Neman Marcus and I ask if I can go to Barnes and Nobles or to buy a new sectional that caught my eye instead. I may just want redo my home decor and ask to go on a shopping spree at Hobby Lobby or Michaels. On TikTok comment sections other SB told me that was weird and would lower my chances of finding one, but I will not present myself as someone I am not. My best friend is a SB makes fun of me sometimes as well.
I mention my military background as I am direct in my way of communicating, I can be analytical and observant. Although my voice is sweet as honey, I am not one to beat around the bush. I am told that can be off putting to some. I have decorum and tact, so I would not say anything offensive, but I will also not participate or be vocal in certain conversations as it is not my place. What I want my SD to have with me is the upmost respect for who he is and be the woman he needs me to be by his side.
It seems like what I want may not fall into the normal expectations and may seem like a lot to ask of a man who is seeking peace in an arrangement. If what I seek is not realistic, please let me know and I will cross this off. If it is feasible, what would be the best way to communicate this, with less words as of course putting all this on my profile would be too long. I intend to be upfront and honest about what I offer and what I would like but I will not shy away from asking for assistance. At the end, I intend to make my life better so I can be happier, and I do not want my potential SD to feel used and discarded. I want my intentions made known upfront. I am a patient woman.
I understand this was very long, it may upset some of you, I apologize, but I do not go into battle blindly. I am divulging this much to get as much honest feedback as possible. If there is any question or I can provide any clarification, I am not the best with word at times, please let me know and I will do the best I can. All I ask is we maintain respect for eachother as I would speak to you with nothing but respect.