Parts for craftsman radial arm saw

The night before Memorial Day my little pig started showing signs of sickness. He’s 5 years old, a senior. He was lethargic, not eating or drinking, not using the bathroom or moving around. He lost a ton of weight overnight. He was just laying down making a sound like he was having difficulty breathing. Of course no vets were open since it’s a holiday, so he went a full 24 hours in this state. I hand fed him and bottle fed him since he couldn’t on his own. Yesterday I called first thing in the morning to a vet an hour away, which is the closest exotic vet. They didn’t accept new patients, but with how critical his condition was they let me come in. I was thinking it was going to be a 50/50 chance he survived, I kept my hopes up too high. I let them take his temp, it was high. I did all I could, I let them take an x ray and nothing showed up that they could tell. Next I let them take blood work, and with how dehydrated he was they were able to just get enough to see his white and red blood cell count. His white blood cell count was extremely high, and they said he had an infection of some sort that they couldn’t pin point, it could have been cancer. She told me euthanasia was on the table, as if we even did treatment we wouldn’t know what we were treating, and he was also suffering from gastrointestinal stasis from not eating, so his organs were already shutting down. It was an uphill battle she said, even if he survived this he would most likely become sick again. I decided to euthanize him. I held him as they did the anesthesia, and he fell asleep in my arms. I can’t seem to get the image of his limp body out of my head, as he was always running around, energetic and happy. I’ve been in complete shock since he passed. I went home and immediately took down his cage, but I’m keeping his things to remember him by. I can’t help but feel like I didn’t try hard enough to keep him alive, even though the vet told me he was in such critical condition. The option wouldn’t be on the table if he was fixable, right? I just wish I was able to tell him how much I loved him, and what was going to happen and why. I have difficulty with the concept of death, and what happens after. I’d like to think that he’s no longer in pain, and he’s living his best afterlife. I don’t like to think it’s nothingness forever, but if it is atleast he isn’t in pain and he had a good life. I just feel so guilty for playing god, and making that decision for him. I wish I could have asked him what he wanted. I wonder what would have happened if I tried treatment. Atleast I was holding him and there for him in his final moments, seeing him so dilapidated I know he was probably going to pass anyways. With my cat who passed a couple years ago, I could tell by her face it was the end, and I saw that with my Guinea pig yesterday. I ended up having to pay 700$ for all of this, and I’m not even worried about the money as I’m glad he went peacefully and with dignity, as he wouldn’t have if he died at home naturally. Just everything together, having to put down my pet, losing almost a grand, and missing work because I’m an absolute mess that can’t stop crying. Could anyone give me kind words to help me get past the guilt and grief? Thank you for listening 😢💗

So, i hit level 50 a few hours ago, now I'm level 51 and i saw that for level 50 and 51 it was written "new shipment available" and i wonder what does it mean because it wasn't a pack nor a part i think. I searched that on the subreddit so no need to tell me that i didn't search.

60 pulls. 60 pulls and Clukay is still not home. I see no light at the end of the tunnel. Darkness awaits me at every turn. What is the point of continuing to live?
The moment I saw those eyes, that face, them godly features… I knew she was the missing puzzle piece in my life. My pulls and quartz left me faster than I can blink. No yellow; no 3 stars in sight.
But no, I wasn’t giving up easily. I was 5 pulls away from a guaranteed 3 stars. I tapped into every last Quartz source I could get. Did every endless exploration I left undone; leveled up every guy and gal I left to eat dust since launch.
The moment of truth soon arrived. My entire mental-wellbeing relied solely on this fateful pull. And guess what?
Centauressi. I felt it came, like a flood of pain. My beloved maid was no longer beloved, for she ruined it all.
I felt Clukay’s eyes, from the other side of the screen, urging me to call forth the essence of Whaling. I opened the wallet, to find no money. I am a fool; my money has already parted with me. There is no option. I can only accept this humiliating defeat.
I have failed Clukay. No quartz, no pull, I’m the lowest of the living. RNGesus continues to torment me; and it will not stop until it finds my dreams have disappeared.

Hope you enjoy this first is NEW BLOOD
By a river, a female Archosaur stalks a herd of dicynodonts called Placerias, looking for weak members to prey upon. Downstream, a male feathered dinosaur resides in a tree with his family. A female Postosuchus, a rauisuchian and one of the largest carnivores alive in the Triassic, attacks the Placerias herd, and wounds one individual; the herd scatters, leaving the wounded Placerias to the Postosuchus. Early bats are depicted feeding on dragonflies and cooling themselves in the little water remaining during the drought before being eaten by a larger dragonfly. Searching for food, a female badger like mammal, alongside another badger, discovers the dinosaur nest; the female wards them off. Later that evening, after he goes off hunting, an inquisitive chick follows but falls onto land trying to follow its father and is caught by the female badger. At night, the dinosaurs pick up their remaining pups and then move away. On the next day, the badgers work to collapse the tree. The female Postosuchus meanwhile is shown to have been wounded by the Placerias, a prior attack on them leaving her with a tusk wound on her thigh. After being unable to successfully hunt another Placerias, she is expelled from her territory by a predatory phytosaur. Wounded, sick, and without a territory, the female Postosuchus dies and is eaten by a pack of archosaurs. As the dry season continues, food becomes scarce. The Placerias herd embarks on a journey in search of water, while the archosaurs begin to cannibalise their young, and the male dinosaurs also resorts to hunting baby badgers at night. Finally, the wet season arrives; the majority of the archosaurs have survived (including the lead female), and the dinosaur pair have a new clutch of eggs. The episode ends with the arrival of a herd of giant Procoptodon like mammal which are followed by a large fox like mammal which fights and kills a Postosuchus.
TIME OF THE TITANS
This episode follows the life of a female prosauropod, beginning at the moment when her mother lays a clutch of eggs in the heart conifer forest. Three months later, some of the eggs hatch; the young prosauropods are preyed upon by fox like mammal and other dinosaurs. After hatching, the hatchlings retreat to the safety of the denser trees. They face many dangers as they grow, including predation by the foxes and existing Smilodon like mammals which are replacing the foxes increasingly . Even a giant Deinotherium like mammal accidentally also kills one of the hatchlings by swinging its tusks while fending off a pair of Smilodon like mammals and a weird crocodile like cetan. Elsewhere, adult herds of prosauropods are shown using their massive weight to topple trees in order to reach cycad leaves and giant ferns. Each one hosts a small mobile habitat of damselflies, bats, and beetles. After some time, the creche of cute creatures have grown into subadults. Nearly all are killed by a huge forest fire; only three survivors emerge onto the open plains, including the young female. They encounter several Paracetherium before only two reach safety of a herd of adult prosauropods. Several years later, the female mates, and a few days after, is attacked by a bull smilodon like mammals. She is saved when another prosauropod strikes the Allosaurus with its tail. She rejoins the herd, albeit with deep wounds on her side, but she will recover. The closing narration notes that their successors the sauropods will in the Cenozoic become the largest animals ever to walk the Earth but currently its the paracetherium.
CRUEL SEA
episode begins with a small elephant like mammal being snatched from the shore by a male Liopleurodon. It then cuts to show how dinosaurs have dominated the European islands with fauna similar to the ones in Jurassic Impact. Meanwhile, hundreds of cetans arrive from the open ocean to give birth but they are attacked by a Basilosaur look a like. Hybodus and a Liopleurodon are on the hunt; when a mother cetan has trouble giving birth, a pair of Hybodus pursue her. They are frightened off by the male Liopleurodon, which eats the front half of the cetan. Meanwhile, a Andrewsarchus like mammal the last of its kind if you forget the fox like mammals swims to an island and discovers a turtle carcass; it fights over the carcass with another. Later, during the night, a group of horseshoe crabs gather at the shore to lay their eggs, which attracts a flock of bats in the morning to eat the eggs. However, a few of the bats are caught and eaten by a giant dragonfly . While the cetan juveniles are growing up, they are hunted by Hybodus, which in turn, are prey for the Liopleurodon. While the male Liopleurodon is hunting, he encounters a female Basilosaurus like mammal; after the male bites one of her flippers, she retreats from his territory, and a group of Hybodus follows the trail of her blood. A cyclone strikes the islands, killing many animals, including several bats and the basilosaurus, who is washed ashore and eventually suffocates under his own weight. A group of small dinosaurs feed on her carcass. At the end of the episode, the juvenile cetans that survived the storm are now large enough to swim off and live in the open sea but are hunted by some other cetans.
GIANT OF THE SKIES
The episode begins with the last giant Dragonfly dead on a beach. Six months earlier, the last Dragonfly, resting among a colony of breeding giant bats in Brazil, flies off for Cantabria where he too must mate. He flies past a migrating group of chalicothere mimics and the nodosaur Polacanthus. He reaches the southern tip of North America, where he is forced to seek shelter from a storm. He grooms himself, expelling his body of fleas; the wings begin to change colour in preparation for the mating season. He then sets off across the Atlantic, which was then only 300 kilometres wide, and after a whole day on the wing, reaches the westernmost of the European islands. He does not rest there however, as a pack of dromaeosaurs are hunting horses; a young one is bullied off an Horse carcass by the adults. The Dragonfly flies to the outskirts of a forest to rest after stealing a fish from a bat, but is driven away by a flock of new fliers called Anurognathids. Flying on, he reaches Cantabria, but finds no other dragonflies and consequently he does not mate. After several days under the sun trying to attract a mate, the protagonist dragonflies dies from a combination of heat, stress and starvation. . The new replacements bats feeds on its corpse.
SPIRITS OF THE ICE FOREST
A few hundred kilometres from the South Pole, a clan of Leaellynasaura emerge during spring after several months of total darkness. They feed on the fresh plant growth (which has adapted to the changing seasons), and build nests to lay their eggs; a Koolasuchus also wakes and heads to a river, where he will stay during the summer. Out on the banks of the river, migrating herds of Macraucheia have also arrived to feed and lay their eggs. When summer arrives, many of the Leaellynasaura clan's eggs have been eaten; however, those of the matriarch hatch successfully. Meanwhile, a male Polar Smilodon like mammal and its pride hunts both the Leaellynasaura and the Macraucheia, the latter species also having to deal with blood-sucking birds the Smilodon male deals with being attacked and exiled by a larger male. When autumn arrives, the herd begins to migrate, and the Koolasuchus leaves the river to find a pool for hibernation and all the cubs of the old male Smilodon are killed. During the migration, some Muttaburrasaurus become lost in the forest; they vocalize loudly while trying to return to their herd, preventing the Leaellynasaura clan's sentries from hearing the male Smilodon approaching. It manages to kill the matriarch of the clan. Winter descends and the forest is shrouded in darkness, but the now matriarch-less Leaellynasaura clan is able to stay active, using their large eyes to help them forage for food. The clan and other creatures are also shown to use various methods of coping with the cold.. Finally, spring returns, and two Leaellynasaura males challenge each other for the right to mate, and the clan establishes a new dominant pair and the old male Smilodon kills the new male Smilodon and takes the pride back. The closing narration acknowledges that soon this landmass will be pulled closer to the South Pole and when that happens, this unique ecosystem and its inhabitants will disappear.
DEATH OF THE DYNASTY
Several months before the Cretaceous–Paleogene extinction event, the last mammals are living under intense environmental stress due to excessive volcanism. A female giant Entelodont like monotremes abandons her nest, the eggs rendered infertile due to acidic pollution. Her calls for a mate are answered by a smaller male, who kills a young rhino like mammal to appease her. Three days later, after repeated copulation, she drives him off. The mother fasts as she tends to her nest, contending with raids by dromaeosaurs and Squirrel like mammals. Meanwhile, herds of deer like mammals wander between islands of vegetation among the volcanic ash, and rhinoceros rut for the right to mate, while losing their young to attacking dromaeosaurs. Only three of the Entelodont hatches ; the mother hunts one of the last elephants to feed herself and her brood. One of the last giant bats flies into the area and is killed by the last cetans. Several days later, while defending her two surviving offspring, the mother is fatally injured by the tail of an Ankylosaurus. The juveniles remain expectantly next to the carcass of their mother the next morning; several hours later, they are killed along with the other mammals in the region by the impact of a comet in the Gulf of Mexico. The impact, said to be as powerful as ten billion Hiroshima bombs, resulted in 65% of life -the mammals included- dying out in the ensuing cataclysmic changes to the climate. In an epilogue, the present-day African plains are shown; while they are now dominated dinosaurs after millions of years of recovery from the impact, they are still populated by a small group of mammals that did survive the extinction: the rodents, the squirrels and many other small vermin like mammals.
THE GIANT CLAW- TO EDIT
searches the late Jurassic islands for Therizinosaurus, who has massive and very long claws.
The episode starts off with Nigel in his ship where he shows a giant claw that scientists originally thought to be the rib of a giant turtle but was actually the claw of Therizinosaurus. He is interrupted when a giant turtle passes through and he films them. The turtle sneezes on him and Nigel sets off on his journey
Nigel comes across a nesting ground of heterodontosaurs that he crosses by using a red flag to draw their attention while one snaps at his cameraman. They travel into a forest where they watch a pack of cassowary like dinosaurs and their friends hunt heterodontosaurs. In a different forest, Nigel sets camp and finds a scorpion that he keeps. At night, a group of Mononykus like creatures approach the camp site and Nigel tries to catch one. After he caught one, he discovers that they have feathers but he puts his thumb in its mouth causing it to bleed. The next morning, Nigel finds that the Mononykus have eaten his scorpion and he packs up his camp. In the scrublands, Nigel hides in the vegetation urging his cameraman to turn off the camera when he spots a feathered predator that spooks some Mononykus.
Then Nigel waits out at a beach with some Heterodontosaurs and Mononykus as a perfect place for theropods to hunt prey. There he finds a hatched nest with the skeleton of a baby Therizinosaurus in a partially hatched egg as well as herbivore dung. Not far away, he finds a full skeleton of a Therizinosaurus. A large crocodile notices him and chases him and his cameraman into the forest. They climb onto tall tree stumps out of their reach and use a bicycle horn to scare of the raptors. After hearing commotion from the heterodontosaurs, Nigel returns to the watering hole where a feathered apex comes to scavenge and drink but is interrupted by the roar of a Therizinosaurus leading to a clash of the titans. The Therizinosaurus fends off the Tarbosaurus with its formidable claws forcing it to back down. Nigel then finds whole herd of Therizinosaurus emerging from the forest and it is a herbivore that uses its sickle-claws to hook tree and bush branches towards its mouth. Nigel ultimately concludes that it was gentle herbivore by touching one that licks him and knocks him over.
Land OF GIANTS
Nigel travels back in time with his film crew. He travels to a nearby lake, where large mammals named Brutodontids nest every year. There Nigel sees a juvenile Brutodon, where he is attacked by a giant mosasaur. Nigel then coaxes it out of the lake by splashing a stick in the water. It lays on the shore. Nigel attaches a video camera to his head and walks towards it, and demonstrates it's biting power by pushing a stick into it's mouth and having it bite down on it.
Later Nigel climbs up the volcanic slopes to get a panoramic view of the area to see Brutodon herd. Instead he finds a herd of small horses. His search leads him all the way to the coast, where he views a colony of medium sized bats on the cliffs hunting fish. Nigel doesn't return to the campsite until night, where he finds that a large predator has attacked his tent, and left all the provisions littered across the surrounding ground. He finds a single theropod dinosaur tooth jammed in a can of meat.
The next morning Nigel has set up an alarm system outside the camp so that if something breaks the laser tripwire, a loud alarm will sound, alerting Nigel. Later he tracks down the predator, where, around midday, Nigel hears a commotion further ahead. He finds a wounded horse in a rocky gully. He walks further upstream to find a smaller dead individual with a strange feathered apex predator eating it.
Later Nigel is shown flying over the ash-fields in an ultralight. Soon he finds another Sea Bat flock. After breaking away he sees a giant bat, one of the largest animal ever to fly. Soon Nigel discovers the Brutodon herd far below, so he lands the ultra light nearby his jeep. He then drives off towards the herd and locates it without any trouble.
After appreciating their gargantuan size, Nigel drives into a natural 'funnel', caused by a break in some trees. He then sets up some weighing scales designed for lorries. After several fruitless attempts, an Brutodon steps on the scales, showing that it weighs 92.3 tonnes, and Nigel explains that that's the same as 30 African elephants.
The next morning Nigel in chasing an horse 20 miles away from the camp in the jeep, when he realizes that it is actually running because a Giganotosaurus is chasing them both. Nigel narrowly escapes the predator only to meet up with the herd later in the morning to find an entire pack of Giganotosaurus mobbing the herd but most are killed.
By the afternoon the pack has singled out a juvenile, and are inflicting wounds, waiting for her to bleed to death. The hunt continues for the rest of the day and into the night, when filming is no longer possible and Nigel must leave.
The next morning, Nigel finds the herd at the nesting site beside the lake. While the females lay their eggs Nigel comments on what a magical ending this is for his dinosaur safari. Suddenly a Mosasaur lunges at him out of the water
NEW DAWN- WWB REALITY
The episode starts by showing how the mammals were dominating the land and that dinosaurs were small. Then it shows how "an asteroid the size of Mount Everest" struck the Earth and demolished the mammals, and how dinosaurs evolved into new forms thereafter. The first episode depicts the warm tropical world of the early Eocene, sixteen million years after the extinction of the giant mammals. Bats, the one of the surviving lineage of the mammals, including the giant carnivorous Mega Bat, rule this world, while dinosaurs are still very small. The setting is near the Messel pit in Germany. Due to volcanic activity, sudden bulk escapes of carbon dioxide trapped underneath lakes pose a significant hazard to the local wildlife. The episode centers around a Parkosaur family, a leaping, shrew-like dinosaur, which has emerged in the dawn hours to forage for food. As the mother forages, first in solidarity, and then with her pups, she wanders near a large predatory mammal, identified as an Ambulocetus the last cetan. A female Mega Bat, who has been taking care of the single undeveloped baby in her nest, makes two attempts to hunt a small herd of Protoceratops like dinosaurs, early ceratopsians. The first attempt fails when sounds among the vegetation betray her presence and they mob her. The second attack proves successful when the Protoceratops consume fermenting grapes and are unable to evade her attack also defends her territory from another. Unfortunately, while the mother hunts, a horde of Titanomyrma, giant carnivorous ants, encounter the baby when it dropped out of the nest, and successfully kill and eat the chick. When the female discovers her dead offspring at dusk she leaves the forest to try and start another family.
With the arrival of night, a band of lemur-like Godinotia, socialize and copulate in the dark the narration reveals how they will be the most successful in this new world. Ambulocetus finally manages to catch a Flamingo like bird near the lake edge. As the night wears on, an earth tremor unleashes trapped carbon dioxide out from underneath the lake and the gas suffocates most of the surrounding life. The Parkosaurs survive because the nest was upwind of the gas while the Bat was killed because she stayed in that area in the forest.
It is mentioned that although they survived the gas, they would ultimately leave many descendants, while the Ambulocetus, who was killed by the lethal gases, would leave none.
WHALE KILLER
This episode introduces the Mosasaur, an ancient type of mosasaur. Mosasaur became the new king of the ocean after the giant cetans of the Mesozoic died out alongside the mammals (see Cruel Sea). It was much bigger than the sharks it shared the ocean with, and it regularly ate the sharks. However, Mosasaur was still less advanced than the modern species; it still had rear flippers (that helped it during the mating) and lacked the blubber. At the same time, this program depicted the beginning of 'climate chaos' - a relatively minor extinction event between Eocene and Oligocene, also known as "The Great Cut". On land dinosaurs too have become big and huge. This episode featured Torosaurus like ceratopsians and the Andrewsarchus, a mammal that was considered to be a relative to the kings of the Cretaceous the Entelodont. Both were much bigger than the land dinosaurs featured in New Dawn episode, but their brains were still small and their behavior - primitive. They were the first true dinosaur rulers of the land and most of them would die out during "The Great Cut". As the El Nino continues and the extinction event is beginning, the female Mosasaur is forced to change her hunting ground from open seas to mangrove swamps (the future Sahara desert). There she encounters small sharks, Apidium, and Moeritherium. It is described as the last stronghold of the mammals A spinosaurid like dinosaur eats an Apidium but is too small to attack Moeritherium, The mosasaur hunts and eats one alive. She leaves.
The Torosaurus continue to strive but most of the juvenlies are killed young by the poisonous plants of their home Two Andrewsarchus steal such a calf, but begin to fight over it in order to determine which of them gets to eat it first. The calf's mother decides that the calf is alive and fights off the Andrewsarchus - for a time, but leaves when the rest of her young hatch.
The female Mosasaurus discovers a lagoon where dolphin like mammals that appeared after the mass extinction of cetans are beginning to calf. At first the smaller whales use their numbers' advantage to chase away the giant, but the female Mosasaurus eventually returns and begins to hunt and devour the calves - and this time the adults can't stop her.
Several months later Basilosaurus gives birth to her own calf, but the episode ends saying that both the mother and child are doomed to perish - but whales as a group will survive.
LAND OF GIANTS
The third episode takes place in late Oligocene Mongolia, where seasonal rains are followed by long periods of drought. It follows a mother giant hawk, an enormous herbivorous bird , and her young male calf. The mother struggles to raise her calf, fending off predators such as Dromaeosaurs and trying to teach the calf to survive on its own. The episode also follows other animals in the surroundings, including a Therizinosaurid, tyrannosaurids and iguanodontids, and the hardships they endure as the new animals from the south move in.
NEXT OF KIN
A family group of the descendants of the Apidium is down; yet another female was killed by the Troodontids that hunt them, leaving behind an orphan daughter. The males of the group, Grey and Hercules, are beginning to challenge each other for leadership, and the females are supporting Hercules rather than Grey, A bigger, more numerous group attacks, driving the focus group from their old home. Because of this, they start to migrate through the highlands of Ethiopia, searching for a new one. During their travels they meet a large stegosaurid in musth which chases them away from its territory as it tries to wow a much larger female. They settle in a area with a waterfall where many iguanodontids roam they try to scare them off but can't. However it is also home to a large allosaur type creature which kills many and drags the rest for its chicks to eat. Grey is killed in the process and using some planning they steal some of the allosaurs chicks and cause it to migrate for the safety of its chicks. That night one of the babies is stolen by a Troodontid which now rule the area without the constriction of the Allosaur. One day the female orphan is attacked by the Troodontids in full daylight when the rest rally together and try and kill the Troodontid. They settle down and some evolved descendants of the protagonist from the first episode comes and eats the lice in their fur.
SABRE TOOTH
The fifth episode shows the strange fauna of the isolated continent of South America and explores the effects of the Great American Interchange, which had happened 1.5 million years earlier. Since South America had drifted apart from Antarctica 30 million years ago, many unique dinosaurs had evolved, including a Ankylosaurus like creature , an armored armadillo-like ankylosaur with a cannon ball-sized spiked club on its tail; An edmontosaurus like dinosaur, a camel-like dinosaur with a long trunk and though not a dinosaur a large heron like pterosaur has evolved larger than the largest of the bats.
Before the continents of South America and North America collided, a 10-foot-tall predatory bear called with sabre teeth like Smilodon, had reigned as top predator. However, the great birds, migrating from the north, soon displaced them as top predators. The episode focuses on a male bear, a saber-toothed ursine, called Half Tooth, who lives a lone life in a territory of females all of their cubs are his one day two males chase him out and try to become the individuals the females mate with.
Next, the episode shows The new birds hunting down the edmontosaurs and the bears trying to protect the young from the two brothers (in vain) but they are eventually killed when they go hunting. In the background, the mammals still hunt, but give way to the birds. However, a therizinosaurid, who wanted to eat meat as diet supplement, charges the pack while the males attempted to mate, in order to eat some of the carrion. In the process, it kills the dominant rival male, enabling Half Tooth to return, kill the other male and reclaim his territory. Then he had another litter of cubs. Meanwhile the pterosaurs arrive for their winter migration.
Mammoth JOURNEY
narrator reveals that the world's climate is starting to deteriorate, bringing on an ice age. This means all animals, even the mighty titanosaurs and their symbiotic bird partners are struggling with the last of their kind living in the focus herd. One of the herd falls through a pond concealed by ice. Her sisters comfort her, and in the morning the scavengers Troodontids and humans gather gather. The herd then have no choice but to leave their fallen sister to prepare for the coming Ice Age winter. The narrator also reveals that so much water is frozen at the poles, causing sea levels to drop. A vast Ice Age forest, which today is the North Sea, supports an array of dinosaurs including a herd of titanosaurs. Also residing on the plains in summer is a new creature: Human.
Despite having no physical adaptations for the cold, they wear animal hides to keep warm. The episode's main focus is the mammoth's 400 kilometre migration to the Alps and back in the spring. Meanwhile, two stigymoloch like dinosaurs are fighting for a harem of females, but are then ambushed by the humans who kill one of the males. As the titans migrate, one of the herd and the juveniles under her care are separated and stalked by a woolly giganotosaurus, but survive.
Upon reaching the Alps, the mother and the juveniles are reunited with the herd. Here in the valleys, one of the herd lays her eggs to return next year to raise the survivors and the birds mate with each other and a new generation is born, some leave into the Alps but many stay with their parents. The episode also focuses on the Neanderthal, who, despite being built for the cold, is struggling as a result of the Ice Age. One of them is attacked by a Woolly Pachyrhinosaurus, but survives because of his shorter stature and thicker bones.
As the titanosaurs migrate back to the plains, they come into Neanderthal territory where the juveniles is annoyed by the mammals and one is killed by the largest of them all Cave Foxes which drag them down to their cliff home where several giant Parkosaurs watch. they arrive back in their forest where the Gigantosaurus the only thing an adult fears attacks and kills the matriarch. The humans scavenge on the carcass. The titanosaurs are revealed to be going extinct with their herd being the largest thanks to the Ice Age while their birds have a different story thanks to their big partners. The scene then changes to the Oxford Museum and the narrator reveals that "If all this has taught is anything, it's this: no species lasts forever.
BALLAD OF BIG AL
The special begins at the University of Wyoming's Geological Museum, showing the bones of a baby prosauropod followed by an Allosaurus (2.1 metres tall is the maximum height) named Big Al. After the ghost of Big Al wanders the museum passing by his own skeleton and a burrow with some fossilized eggs, the film then travels back in time to 150 Mya) showing a similar nest. Al and his siblings are hiding in the burrow when they are called by their mother. She brings them to a river bank and the hatchlings start to hunt for insects and lizards. When the mother leaves the hatchlings temporarily, a predatory Dilephodon like mammal comes out of hiding and kills one of them (luckily, the victim was not Al).
Al is then shown at the age of two years. He tries to hunt a flock of Dryosaurus. He has not yet learned how to ambush from his mother so he fails to kill one of the swifter, smaller dinosaurs. Later, he snatches a lizard from a branch to keep him satisfied. Al comes across a dead Deinotherium like mammal and an Allosaurus waiting for death in a pit of sticky mud, which forms a predator trap. Meanwhile, a two-year-old female Allosaurus, attracted to the carcass, also gets stuck. She struggles to free herself, but fails. Al luckily avoids the same fate, because he has learnt to avoid carrion and the large carnivores that it usually attracts. Unable to escape, the trapped Allosaurus pair die of exhaustion, their corpses left to the bats. Al returns to his mother and his three siblings and feasts on the carcass she has caught.
Three years pass, and a herd of juvenile Prosauropods are migrating across their forest home and into the grasslands, heading for a herd to the south. Al, now 1.2 meters long, is joined by several other Allosaurus (possibly, his siblings) and they manage to successfully panic the herd into leaving a weakened sick individual behind. But as the Allosaurus gather for the kill, Al is struck down by the neck of the prosauropod. The pack decides to wait for a few hours until the prosauropod is brought down by heat exhaustion and his illness. Though they feed, within the hour, a five-year-old female Allosaurus scavenges the kill. Al takes some remnants of the carcass for himself and leaves, trying to find a safer place to eat.
3 years pass by, and Al, now 1.8 metres long with the crests over his eyes reddening, is shown drinking at a pond. His presence however makes other mammals around the pond nervous and the smell of blood he brings with him puts off a pair of Deinotherium that were attempting to mate. Away from the pond, he discovers the scent of a nearby six-year-old female Allosaurus and issues a mating call. She is interested, but as Al attempts to mate, a Smilodon like mammal out on the prowl pack attacks and kills the female. Al is lucky enough to escape from the ensuing fight with his life, although he sustains injuries to his right arm as well as smashed ribs. Later the dry season comes, and Al is attempting to hunt a flock of rabbit like mammals as the Dryosaurus have moved away. Whilst ambushing them however, he steps on a hedgehog like mammal and kills it but then it is stuck in his foot so he ends up breaking something in his right foot in the resultant fall; he limps away the, his chances of survival as prey gets scarcer now very unlikely. As the dry season turns to a drought, Al's limp from the fall gets worse and his right middle toe -which he broke in the fall- has become badly infected. Soon, unable to hunt because of this handicap, he dies in a dried-up riverbed, where two hatchling Allosaurus are hunting for bugs and come across his emaciated carcass where they eat his eyes and tongue and leave. He is said not to have reached full size, dying as a mature adolescent and that the process of his fossilisation was so perfect it preserved even the injuries he sustained in his lifetime including -amongst others- lumps where his ribs healed after their break and the raging infection on his middle toe even the hedgehog he stepped on. The narrator concludes the special stating how Big Al, in death, represents a frozen moment in the fast and furious life of a carnivorous dinosaur.
Now I'm going to do the worst part of WWD, Walking With Dinosaurs 3D and I'm going to remove the voices and keep it as an actual documentary
In the early cretaceous a few million years before the fourth episode of WWD a thing that was actually good and next to the western interior seaway. Patchi is the youngest and smallest in a litter of tiny baby Torosaurus like dinosaurs that are being out competed by pronghorn like mammals. Their father Bulldust the leader is the leader of the herd. Patchi is also attacked by a bird, which attempts to eat him, but he is saved by his caring mother, resulting in Patchi having a hole in his frill as an injury.
Later, Bulldust moves his herd south as well, but when they try to pass through a forest, they are forced to flee when the local Dromaeosaurs make fire to flush out some pronghorns and a forest fire erupts. Taking advantage of the chaos, a pack of dromaeosaurs attacks the scattered herd. They kill most of Patchi and Scowler's family, while their leader and alpha, Gorgon, fights and kills Bulldust while he’s trying to run away as he cares nothing about his children thanks to his kind's ability to breed like rabbits. Afterwards, Patchi's herd, now led by Bulldust's mate, combine with a female named Juniper's herd as they continue their migration. Gorgon's pack attacks them again, and in the ensuing chaos, Patchi, Scowler, Juniper (and many others) fall into a river and are swept downstream to the ocean all juveniles but Juniper, Scowler and Patchi killed in the process, with a scavenger bat following them from above. At a beach, Scowler follows a herd of rhino like mammals to find food, leaving Patchi and Juniper behind as they are scarred up and Juniper's eye is destroyed. The two make their way through a forest and eventually are able to find their herd and Scowler.
After years of making the same migration from north to south and vice versa, the leader of the herd is killed in a river by two cetans Scowler confronts his brother and his gang of friends and challenges him for a battle in exchange for leadership of the herd. Scowler, as he is much stronger and larger than Patchi, quickly gains the upper hand and defeats his brother by trapping him under a young tree before disowning him and ordering Juniper, along with the rest of the herd, to leave Patchi behind. Despondent and heartbroken, Patchi, now trapped underneath the tree and unable to do anything, attempts to accept his fate by allowing scavengers to kill and eat him but thanks to a pterosaur literally pecking out his eye while looking at a butterfly he has the rage to go out fighting.
Reinvigorated by the bat, Patchi and his friends (actually just a bunch of dragonflies that live on his back but like him despite their intelligence) escapes and fights off the scavengers, before catching up to the herd, only to find them confronted by Gorgon and her pack once more (now its gets dark) they manage to scare most of the herd and a bunch of Pronghorn like mammals into a river which causes most to drown, during the battle between Gorgon and the ceratopsians. Scowler pushes Juniper accidentally into a hole with a spike and kills her. patchi in a fit of rage fights Scowler and has his last remaining eye gouged out but he manages to push him off a cliff that was there and while Patchi looks like he's contemplating his action when he is just standing there when Gorgon and her pack kill him, meanwhile a male approaches Gorgon and drops the head of Juniper in front of her she accepts this and leaves to mate.
It then cuts to the survivors who are building up their nest and thanks to their rerouted migration which saves them and their kind from extinction from the Pronghorns. Gorgon's pack have to move away and the lovely gory ecosystem collapses a few million years after this thanks to the arrival of Brutodon which out compete the definitely not sauropod replacement mammals that look like giraffes that will become the largest creatures on earth and it ends on one of Gorgon's young evolving WWM style into the giant theropods from Nigel Marvin's adventures with the largest creatures on earth. The credits this time are of a before and after showing the area in Patchi and friends era and in Nigel marvin's adventures era showing the river area where Patchi was killed into the river area where the Brutodon laid their eggs.
Species/ replacements
Nanotorosaurus replaces Pachyrhinosaurus
Nanogigantosaurus replaces Gorgosaurus
Pronghornodontids replaces Parkosaurus
Parkosaurs replace Chirostenotes
Loxodontamimus replaces Edmontonia
mega Dragonfly, Nanoanurognthathus and mega bats replace Quetzocoatlus
Brontomimus replaces the hadrosaurs
Atroxodontids replace troodontids
Tiny Compusnathids replace Alphadon
Avitelmessus replaces Avitelmessus (crab evolution wasn't that impacted)

TW: suicide
My sweet husband is so stressed. My mother-in-law is in shock. My father-in-law's family is angry and frustrated. Just an absolute mess. Couple of years ago they moved away from us, about a handful of hours away, and I thought then it was a bad idea. Mother-in-law was miserable there so she said she was leaving him and coming home. He was a lifelong alcoholic and just kind of a grumpy dude all around. He spent the day with his son, spoke on the phone with another son, and then got into an argument over a microwave with my mother-in-law. He went downstairs and pulled the trigger, twice somehow. My brother-in-law had to cut out carpet and drag a bloody recliner out of a basement.
The house he did it in, it's a generational farmstead where the whole family all converge for holidays, celebrations and now funerals. His father was actually born and passed away in this house. I think sadly now, it will be sold.
Funeral arrangements are being made. Several family members want to view his body so they have a different memory of the last time they saw him. My father-in-law was my husband's stepdad, and I think he's really struggling with feeling like a secondary family member. I keep trying to tell him he's just as much family as anyone else. I mean his stepdad was actually more in his life than his own children.
I just wish there was a book or manual or something to cling to for help or advice or just a fucking beacon in the night. My mother-in-law was already moving back and now that is a jumbled up mess. She has a new job lined up , but hardly anything moved and is good at playing the damsel in distress to get assistance when she's fully capable of doing it herself. But now I feel like we have to pull up and do it because of these circumstances. My husband was getting really good at putting a boundary down and communicating with her that she has to be self-reliant for the most part. We were just coming home from music festival when we got the call and I'm also sad that my husband just couldn't have a fun fucking weekend without anything bad happening.
We've been through some crazy shit in our short marriage, and he was nothing but supportive of me when my best friend was murdered. I just want to be supportive for him. There's just so many conflicting emotions. Has anyone been through anything like this?

The night before Memorial Day my little pig started showing signs of sickness. He’s 5 years old, a senior. He was lethargic, not eating or drinking, not using the bathroom or moving around. He lost a ton of weight overnight. He was just laying down making a sound like he was having difficulty breathing. Of course no vets were open since it’s a holiday, so he went a full 24 hours in this state. I hand fed him and bottle fed him since he couldn’t on his own. Yesterday I called first thing in the morning to a vet an hour away, which is the closest exotic vet. They didn’t accept new patients, but with how critical his condition was they let me come in. I was thinking it was going to be a 50/50 chance he survived, I kept my hopes up too high. I did all I could, I let them take an x ray and nothing showed up that they could tell. Next I let them take blood work, and with how dehydrated he was they were able to just get enough to see his white and red blood cell count. His white blood cell count was extremely high, and they said he had an infection of some sort that they couldn’t pin point, it could have been cancer. She told me euthanasia was on the table, as if we even did treatment we wouldn’t know what we were treating, and he was also suffering from gastrointestinal stasis from not eating, so his organs were already shutting down. It was an uphill battle she said, even if he survived this he would most likely become sick again. I decided to euthanize him. I held him as they did the anesthesia, and he fell asleep in my arms. I can’t seem to get the image of his limp body out of my head, as he was always running around, energetic and happy. I’ve been in complete shock since he passed. I went home and immediately took down his cage, but I’m keeping his things to remember him by. I can’t help but feel like I didn’t try hard enough to keep him alive, even though the vet told me he was in such critical condition. The option wouldn’t be on the table if he was fixable, right? I just wish I was able to tell him how much I loved him, and what was going to happen and why. I have difficulty with the concept of death, and what happens after. I’d like to think that he’s no longer in pain, and he’s living his best afterlife. I don’t like to think it’s nothingness forever, but if it is atleast he isn’t in pain and he had a good life. I just feel so guilty for playing god, and making that decision for him. I wish I could have asked him what he wanted. I wonder what would have happened if I tried treatment. Atleast I was holding him and there for him in his final moments, seeing him so dilapidated I know he was probably going to die anyways. With my cat who passed a couple years ago, I could tell by her face it was the end, and I saw that with my Guinea pig yesterday. I ended up having to pay 700$ for all of this, and I’m not even worried about the money as I’m glad he went peacefully and with dignity, as he wouldn’t have if he died at home naturally. Just everything together, having to put down my pet, losing almost a grand, and missing work because I’m an absolute mess that can’t stop crying. Could anyone give me kind words to help me get past the guilt and grief? Thank you for listening 😢💗

--- Table of Contents ---
Spring 4985, 18 Buromoth
The road to Hamerfoss was north out of Smilnda. By horse, the journey took only two days, one and a half if ridden hard. By foot, it generally took four days, but escorting a heavily loaded wagon would take the squires six.
On the first day out, Thom and Rerves released their excited energy through constant chatter. Talking about how happy they were to finally be on their way to real training. Occasionally Shon would join in.
On the second day, they spoke about how much easier it would be to concentrate without the girls around. Shon didn’t join much in this conversation.
On the third day, they confessed to missing Daisy and Ania. Suspecting they missed the conversation, Shon attempted to chime in more often.
The fourth and fifth days were plagued with spring rain, and the boys did little more than complain, particularly about their new leather armor chafing when wet. Shon couldn't help but grumble in affirmation. He'd hated the armor from the first day.
The sixth, and final, day saw a stop to the rain. The boys spent their walk beside the wagon carefully dodging puddles after Thom submerged his entire boot in one deeper than expected. There was very little talking between them now, all three too nervous and excited for their imminent arrival.
The road outside the city had been the only part with flat fields and open skies on either side. For the rest, they'd traveled through forest, with only the occasional clearing maintained explicitly for travelers to camp. Tall evergreens growing close together blocked the view of anything beyond the road at their feet, giving Shon and the others very little to look at as they marched.
Two sturdy horses pulled the wagon of supplies for the fortress. Barrels of food and crates of scrap metal as well as sacks of letters and the Squire's personal bags, weighed down the laden wagon, the wheels carving deep channels in the muddy road.
Shon had already sketched the wagon, the horses, the Paladin driving them, and his fellow Squires many times over. He even managed a few landscape drawings, for lack of better subjects. He had no idea how the other two managed to calm their excitement before sleep. Perhaps that was why they talked so much every night.
Walking ahead of him, Rerves readjusted the hilt of his short sword while Shon pulled at the neck of his armor for what seemed like the hundredth time each. They hadn’t been trained in the proper use of either, and Shon wondered again why the Paladins had insisted the Squires wear them. They'd been ordered to guard the wagon, but who would be stupid enough to waylay a Temple cart so close to a fortress full of knights? Of course, monsters such as the draken and drakwalves were always a threat, but what were three untrained boys supposed to do against something like that?
Shon sighed, letting his hand fall limply from the gorget. It was no use. No matter how many times he tried to shift it, it would just rub somewhere else until he grew uncomfortable enough to try again. He attempted to distract himself, letting his eyes unfocus and picturing himself going through his kata as he walked in a daze. Master Veon-Zih always said that mental practice was just as important as physical training, though in this case, Shon was just glad it gave him something to focus on besides his nerves and discomfort.
He was about to start the second kata when he nearly ran into Rerves. The taller boy had stopped walking, and Shon arched an eyebrow at him before realizing that the wagon had also stopped. There was no way they were there already…
Stepping to the side, Shon saw what had stalled them. A man in what looked like poorly kept half-plate stood in the middle of the path. A large war ax strapped to his back.
The stranger scratched at his short beard, scraggly and peppered like his hair, “Ho traveler, where you headed?” He called.
The three boys looked to the Paladin driving the wagon, watching as his eyes narrowed, “We are bound for Hamerfoss, good ser…”
“Ah, so the toll you’ll be payin' will be comin' out of them coffers then,” the stranger called, his face splitting into a grin as the boys looked back his way.
“There is no toll on this road, good ser.” their Paladin stated. As if their heads had been placed on a swivel, the Squires returned their gazes to him, but only for a moment as the stranger answered again.
“There is now.” the bandit lifted his hand, the Paladin stood, and the boys looked between the two with wide eyes, not sure what they were supposed to do. The bandit whistled, a sharp sound that sent birds flying from the trees as four hooded figures exited from the gloom to surround the wagon and its three terrified Squires.
The Paladin drew his longsword, ordering the boys, “Protect the wagon!” They turned frightened eyes on each other for only a moment before looking back at the bandits. Each now holding swords of their own.
The knight lept from the wagon and charged the leader, who'd reached for his ax. Thom and Rerves fumbled for their short swords, and Shon dropped into a low stance, his fists held at the ready and heart beating furiously.
“Shon, sword!” Rerves yelled, his voice somehow steady as the four hooded bandits stalked closer.
Shon actually felt himself blush despite the situation and pulled his sword from its scabbard like the rest. He felt off-balance, the weight of the weapon throwing off his well-rehearsed stance. He didn’t have time to adjust before the bandits charged. Two went for Rerves, leaving one each for Shon and Thom.
Shon tried to relax, to stay alert and ready to move, as he'd been taught. But his palm was sweating and he clinched the hilt tighter than intended. Focused on the bandit heading his way, the chaos around him blurred, becoming indistinct, like a drawing left in the rain. Shon held his ground and lifted the sword to one of the ready positions he'd seen the Paladins practice. His attacker was quite a bit taller than he was, and Shon lifted the sword above his head as the first swing came down hard from above.
The hilt shook in Shon's hand, and his attacker didn't hesitate to swing again, this time sweeping around and aiming for Shon's left leg. Clenching his teeth, Shon pivoted the sword down to block again but misjudged the length of his blade. The bandit's long sword passed below the point of Shon's block to strike just above the knee. He felt the impact, but could only imagine the damage, refusing to look and thanking Hengist the limb hadn't buckled. As the shock of the hit ran its course, the attacker flicked his sword up from inside Shon's failed guard, knocking the weapon from his hand.
The short sword flew free, but Shon had already begun his counter, aiming with his free right hand at his attacker’s extended wrist. The hit would have knocked the attacker's arm aside at the least, but with his now empty left hand, Shon struck the same arm from the outside at the elbow. In an instinctual effort to save the joint, the bandit twisted awkwardly, but predictably, bringing his head lower and closer.
Cartilage crunched beneath his knuckles and Shon's attacker reeled back, gripping his nose under his hood and cursing loudly enough for others to hear over the clang of metal and chaos.
One of Rerves' attackers disengaged from his two-on-one fight to aid his friend, who was now backing away from Shon as fast as he could. Shon hesitated a moment then dashed to his fallen sword.
Again Shon felt unbalanced with the weapon in hand. He tried to shift his weight to offset the difference but barely had enough time to bring the sword to bear as the second attacker swung his two-handed greatsword at Shon's right side.
Taking his own weapon in both hands, Shon managed to absorb some of the force of the blow, but he still wasn't strong enough to fully block the strike. His arms buckled, giving way for his opponent's longsword to hit his upper arm. This second hit hadn't fully registered in Shon's mind when the new attacker shoved his shoulder into Shon's chest, trying to push him over.
It worked. Shon fell to the ground with a splash and smack as he habitually swung his hands down to slap the ground, dropping his sword again, but breaking the energy of the fall. Just as Master Veon-Zih had taught him. Perhaps expecting Shon to be winded, the attacker didn't follow through with another attack on the prone boy; instead, turning to look at the companion Shon had punched.
Shon didn't hesitate. Still on his back, Shon twisted his hips, scissoring his legs to either side of the bandit's leg and kicking him behind the knee and inside the shin. The bigger man went down, and Shon swung his legs up, rolling onto his shoulder blades before jumping directly to a standing position. Or at least trying to. The leather armor was heavy and awkward, and he wobbled when he landed on his feet. As he attempted to regain his balance, another whistle rang out from the front of the wagon.
As one, the attackers disengaged from their respective defending Squires. The one Shon had knocked down rolled away and was helped up by his companion sporting a bloody nose. The Squires didn't pursue. Their hands shook with adrenaline, and their eyes tried to dart every way at once.
"Stand down, Squires," it was the Paladin. The knight had sheathed his sword and was moving back towards the wagon, but the boys could barely manage a glance at each other before focusing back on their attackers. Still very much on edge. It wasn't until the attackers in question also sheathed their weapons that the Squires began to slowly straighten, looking between the Paladin, the lead bandit, their attackers, and each other in quick succession.
"You all did very well," the knight said, reaching out to ensure the horses were still calm. They'd hardly moved, causing Shon to determine they must be warhorses, perhaps one was the knight's own partner.
"Not bad, not bad." the lead bandit started forward, slinging his ax back over his shoulder as he moved. Rather than being reassured by the gesture, the Squires dropped back into their fighting stance.
The Paladin snapped, "It was a test, boys. Relax and sheath your swords before you hurt yourselves." The lead 'bandit' laughed out loud at that. It was a booming sound like a bark straight from his belly as he threw his head back and planted his fists firmly on his hips.
"First time seeing battle, even a mock one, and you can't help but be on edge. It's the same every year," he said, the strange speech pattern he'd used before completely gone. He gestured, and his four underlings removed their hoods. The one with the bloody nose still had it pinched, his head tilted forward.
Mock battle… Shon's leg and arm throbbed painfully with every heartbeat, and his knuckles stung as he clenched and unclenched his fists to try and relax. But now that it was over, he realized that both hits had been with the flat of the blade.
The ringleader continued, "These fine Squires are going to be the newest Paladins of Hengist. After their vigil next month." the four attackers saluted and the younger Squires exchanged glances again before finally putting their swords away. "And I," the man slapped his chest, "am your new Weaponmaster. Master Daunas Mung. It will be my job to train you in combat at Hamerfoss."
Rerves was the first to recover. He smiled, but his voice held a hint of sarcasm, "I wish I could say it's nice to meet you, Master Daunas," he tried to laugh, "perhaps once my heart has stopped trying to beat its way out of my chest." That caused the Weaponmaster to bark his own laugh again. Thom smiled nervously at Shon, who was taking slow, measured breaths to calm his own heart.
The Paladin took a moment to examine their various bumps and bruises but only used his magic to heal the senor squire's broken nose. The much larger party continued together towards Hamerfoss, Master Daunas riding with the Paladin in the wagon while the older Squires chatted amongst each other. Thom and Rerves didn’t join in the chatter, both looking as anxious as Shon felt. He could hear the two uninjured seniors making fun of the two who had fought him and wasn’t sure if he should be embarrassed or proud. He'd hardly used his sword, -dropped it twice!- and the sword was the sacred weapon of Hengist. The symbol of the god himself.
Eventually, -finally- they left the woods and immediately saw the fortress situated in the middle of a vast field. Hamerfoss was one of the oldest structures still being utilized in Clearhelm. As such, it wasn't nearly as visually impressive as some of the newer Temples in the cities. Even so, as they approached the south gate, the three new Squires gaped at its great stone walls in awe.
The outer curtain wall was twenty stones high, -at least four of the boys stacked one on top of the other- with two layers of iron portcullises, their bars as thick as Shon's forearm. Walking through the first, the boys looked up and saw the faces of Paladins looking down at them through holes in the ceiling, built for dumping hot tar or oil on invaders trapped between the portcullises. They moved a little faster through the second.
Beyond the wall was one of two open courtyards, with training dummies, archery targets, and sparring rings separated by neat stone walkways. The smell of hay and horses wafted over the whole place from the stable against the south wall to their right, and the ringing "tink, tink" of a hammer on metal filled the cool air from the smithy built into the side of the fortress proper.
"Welcome to Hamerfoss!" Master Daunas gestured widely to all before them, and Shon fixed his eyes on the fortress itself, rising up like an indomitable mountain before him. It was about fifteen feet taller than the curtain wall, with one great tower in the center jutting up another fifteen feet above that. The roof was lined with battlements where archers could rain death on an invading army.
Turning his head, Shon could see three of the four bastions at the corners of the curtain wall and the armored figures that must be more Paladins standing guard. His left hand twitched as he longed to unpack his journal and draw every detail. The bare, dead-looking vines covering the face of the west wall, he was sure they would bloom in a few short weeks and cover the stone in green; the squat smithy coming out of his workshop to wipe the sweat from his brow in the cool air of early spring; and the slack-jawed expressions of awe on his companions' faces as they tilted their heads waaay back to try and see the top of the fortress's tower. But there would be plenty of time for that. After all, this would be his home for the next four years.
"Well. Don't just stand there gawkin'! Unload the wagon." Shon jumped in surprise and glimpsed Thom and Rerves doing the same. Master Daunas must have startled them out of their awe as well.
Shon was grateful as Rerves cleared his throat and took charge. His habit of speaking first and taking control had annoyed the girls back in Smilnda, but as Thom was used to it and Shon didn’t like giving orders, it worked out well for the boys. "Thom, you get the horses settled. Shon, you start handing me things out of the wagon." Without a word of argument, Thom nodded and went to the horses, murmuring gently as he began removing their harness and Shon climbed into the bed of the wagon to lift one crate at a time down to Rerves.
Master Daunas snorted, turning away from the new boys to give orders Shon couldn't hear to the older Squires. The young men saluted in unison, one moving to help Thom and two coming back to the wagon to help Shon and Rerves. The last jogged to the blacksmith, who waved him towards the smithy. He returned a moment later, carrying a small box and marching towards the smith, who was speaking quietly with Master Daunas.
"Shon, come on!" Rerves whispered, gesturing with both hands impatiently. Shon shook his head to clear it, handing Rerves another crate. He'd been paying a little too much attention to Daunas and the smith.
"Sorry," Shon murmured, but if Rerves heard him, he just took the box and set it with the others. It didn't take long for the four Squires to finish with the wagon. Shon hopped down with his own pack over his shoulder just as Thom came out of the stable with the senior Squire to meet them.
"Horses taken care of?" Rerves asked, and Shon blinked at him, thinking, Of course, they were; Thom wouldn't have come out otherwise…
"Yep, all settled and ready to go," Thom answered with a smile. Shon would've simply nodded. He was never one to waste words on things that didn't need to be said, and now more than ever, he found himself so focused on taking in everything around him that he could hardly think of words to say.
It seemed Master Daunas had been waiting for something to be said out loud, though, because he turned towards them at the sound, "Alright lads, this here is Nangran Flintchest. He's our resident Smith, and he'll be making all your equipment." The man was only as tall as Thom, but his shoulders and chest were broader even than Master Daunas, with hands the size of shovels and a beard that hung to the middle of his chest.
"Line up, smallest... largest…" As he spoke, Nangran pointed first to the right, then to the left of Shon, and didn't bother to see if they obeyed before turning away from them to open the box the older Squire had brought. Taking out a long measuring tape and a ratty-looking notebook, the smith tossed the young man the notebook without explanation and headed toward Thom with the measuring tape. Thom quickly positioned himself to the right of Shon with Rerves on Shon’s left.
Nangran motioned with his hand, grumbling only "Arms…" Without need for further explanation, Thom stepped forward and lifted his arms like a 't', visibly swallowing down his nerves. Shon watched closely as the smith took the smaller boy's measurements. Around his chest, his bicep, lower arm, from shoulder to elbow, elbow to wrist, neck to waist, and much more besides. Thom stood stiff, following the old man's clipped instructions with hesitant jerky movements. Shon thought it should be awkward to work around their armor, but Nangran didn't seem to notice.
"Sword?" Nangran asked, and Thom made a confused sound. But the smith waved a massive hand in his face, "Not you, boy. Daunas, what sword?"
Master Daunas had his arms crossed over his chest and was tilting his head back and forth from one side to the other, absently scratching his beard before he finally said. "Two hands." he then pointed at Shon, saying, "Bastard." Shon wrinkled his nose, but the offense was short-lived when Daunas pointed at Rerves, saying, "One hand."
Nangran sniffed, "One each..." he stepped over to Shon and motioned for him to raise his arms. Shon stiffened but obliged, keeping his eyes fixed forward as the old man ran his measuring tape all across Shon's body, fighting not to flinch each time the Smith brushed against him.
"Yep," Daunas answered. They were talking as if the boys weren't even there, and the older Squires just watched. Didn’t they have anything better to do? "And that one," Daunas continued, nodding towards Shon, "is a lefty." Nangran snorted without comment and continued measuring, while the Squire with the notebook scribbled a little something extra besides the numbers Nangran mumbled to him.
But then the smith ran his hand down Shon’s forearm, touching the skin of his wrist, and pulled away in surprise. Shon jerked his hand back but quickly returned it with a nervous swallow. The smith stared at him, his brow furrowed, "You're cold as ice boy. Nervous?"
Shon shook his head, but the smith continued to stare, so he added, "No sir. I'm always cold."
The smith hummed and went back to measuring around Shon's wrist and back up his arm, "They say cold hands make a warm heart," Nangran muttered.
Beside Shon, Rerves and Thom snickered. "Whoever says that has never met Shon," said Thom, who had relaxed noticeably once the smith had finished with him. Face forward, Shon glared sideways at him, but there was no real anger in it, and Thom snickered again.
Master Daunas let out another bark of a laugh, "I see you get along well! That's good; you'll want friends in training." Shon tried to relax, taking a deep breath through his nose and letting it out through pursed lips. He did get along with his fellow Squires. He felt his lips tilt up in an almost imperceptible smile. He would even go so far as to call them friends. Even if they did poke fun at each other. Or maybe it was because they did.
Smith Nangran moved on to Rerves, and Shon looked from the larger boy to the smaller and back again before focusing his gaze on Master Daunas. It seemed neither of them was going to ask the adults to clarify what they meant by the sword assignments, so he would have to. Feeling more at ease, he asked, "I thought we were going to be trained in all weapons…"
Daunas must've seen where Shon was going because he spoke at the pause provided, "Oh, you will, boy. But I was watching you fight back on the road. You didn't think we staged that little raid just for fun, did you?" Shon didn't answer. He had thought it was just for fun. Perhaps some kind of hazing ritual. When Shon didn't say anything, Daunas continued, "You boys haven't been trained, so your movements were on instinct, giving me an idea for what fighting style you may lean more towards." he pointed at Shon, who crossed his eyes to focus on the finger, "You, boy, are going to be a problem. You're the one old man V's been training."
Who? Shon refocused on the Weapon Master's face, arching an eyebrow in confusion. When Master Daunas didn’t respond to the look, Shon guessed, "Master Veon-Zih?"
Daunas continued, "He's got you jumping around with no mind to the armor you'll be wearing or the weapon in your hand. You'll have to work twice as hard to adjust some of those habits." Shon was taken aback, shocked, and a little afraid… He didn't want to lose what he'd already learned… but Master Daunas continued, "But with a hand-and-a-half sword, you'll be able to switch between one and two-handed maneuvers." he smiled softly, and Shon realized his emotions must have been showing on his face more than usual because the Weapon Master seemed to be comforting him. "You mark my words; you'll favor the bastard sword for sure."
Nangran finished with Rerves and began rolling up his measuring tape. He turned his back on the boys but spoke to them as he took his notebook back from the senior Squire, “Take that leather off and put it in the wagon. I’ll have better ready for you by first watch week.” The Squires exchanged looks, then began following the command, stripping off the leather armor and thick gambeson and trying in vain to straighten the sweaty wrinkled uniforms underneath.
“You four,” Daunas addressed the seniors, who moved from parade rest to attention in perfect unison, “show these three around and give them the rundown of how things work around here. You three,” he looked over his shoulder at Shon and the others, scratching his neck again, “this is your last day of freedom, enjoy it while you can.” all seven Squires saluted and Daunas sighed, giving a lazy salute in response before walking off, muttering to himself, “I need to shave…”
The older Squires approached the younger, two of them snickering after Daunas was far enough away not to hear. Shon arched an eyebrow at them and, seeing the expression, the tallest explained, “He’s normally clean-shaven. He let his beard grow out all week for the wagon raid.”
“You’ll be doing one too, in your last year.” another of the four added.
“Sorry about your arm,” the one who had fought Thom said, holding out his hand to the younger boy, “You really did do well, considering.” Thom shook the young man’s hand with a grateful smile at the compliment.
The two who had fought Shon exchanged looks with each other then looked at him, their expressions expectant. Shon arched his other eyebrow instead. Did they really expect him to apologize? They had attacked him. And he was four years younger than they were.
“So…” the one Shon had bloodied started, drawing the word out.
“Who taught you how to fight?” the second interjected.
“Master Veon-Zih.”
When Shon didn’t elaborate further, the two exchanged silent shrugs. Shon looked away from them, frustrated. They could communicate with each other fine in gestures and expressions, yet, he was expected to explain details they didn't need? Would they even know what a Monk was? Did it even matter? He was here to train as a Paladin now.
The only one who hadn’t spoken yet cleared his throat, and the other three turned his way immediately. Apparently, he was the unofficial leader of this group, just like Rerves was the unofficial leader of theirs. “We'll show you the barracks first. You should shower and change your uniforms before we walk around the rest of the fortress.”
“You have showers here too?” Rerves blurted in amazement, then snapped his mouth shut, blushing.
The two who were prone to laughing did so again, “Why wouldn’t we?”
“I bet we need it more than most of the official Temples.” the two laughed again.
Thom shuffled his feet nervously but said, “They told us things would be a lot rougher here.”
“They were probably just trying to scare you,”
“They were talking about the work,” the leader said sharply, then turned towards the fortress.
Shon and the others quickly grabbed their bags and rushed to follow. The leader continued to talk as they fell into step behind him, “Your day will start just before sunrise, at fifth bell. You will get dressed, make your bed as quickly as possible, then gather with the others in the courtyard,” he gestured with one hand at a wide-open spot on the training grounds, “From there we run. Around the fortress ten times in formation. After that are drills and then breakfast. After breakfast, we have prayer, followed by lectures, then heavy weapons and armor training, then lunch.” they made their way into the fortress and up a long flight of stairs to the third floor, “After lunch, there's more classwork, then light weapons and combat training. You’re then given an hour of free time to shower and rest before dinner. After dinner, there is mandated study or prayer time, then another hour of free time before lights out at ninth bell. Once every season, we take four weeks to stand watch, one week for each shift.”
He took them down a long hall lined with doors on one side. Shon tried to listen and count the doors at the same time and was glad he did when the leader stopped beside the ninth, “These three rooms are yours. Go ahead and get a new uniform and meet us back out here.”
One of the nicer boys stepped forward to open the first door, “This one is Rerves, followed by Shon and Thom.” Shon entered to find a small room barely six feet square. Directly across from the door was a bed that took up the entire wall and a small high-set window that looked out over the training field. Beside it was a small desk with a single wooden chair. Under the bed, Shon found a long shallow box full of neatly folded uniforms. His name was embroidered in the lining of each piece, and on top was a pinned note with instructions detailing the laundry procedure. Shon only skimmed it, it was the same as the fortress in Smilnda, and most likely the same the Provence over, perhaps even the kingdom.
He left his pack by the desk and returned to the hall with one of his uniforms to find it empty. Glancing down either side of the hall, he shrugged at Thom’s questioning look when he was joined by his two fellows. They waited at least ten minutes before the seniors returned, without their armor and holding their own spare uniforms. They looked nearly as disheveled as the juniors. The leader gestured for them to follow again and said, “Once you get your armor, you will keep it in your room. It's your responsibility to keep it oiled or polished as appropriate.” well, they would be good at that at least… Had they been left to wait while the seniors cared for their armor? Shon didn’t bother to ask, following the four deeper into the fortress.
They were taken to the showers, a single large room with spigots set into the walls and drains in the floor. The seniors started to strip down, placing their dirty uniforms in a basket by the door and setting their clean sets on the benches set along the same wall. Thom, Rerves, and Shon all exchanged looks before following their lead.
There were only ten showerheads, and Rerves finally asked, “How many Squires are there here?”
The seniors each moved to their own showerhead, and the room was quickly filled with hot steam, “Twentyone, including us, but we will be gone in a month, so that will leave seventeen.” one of them answered, stepping under the hot water with a grateful sigh, rinsing the sweat and dirt from the road off his surprisingly well-muscled body. Shon counted the shower spigots again as he moved towards his own. Almost twenty Squires and only ten showers at a time… it sounded like a nightmare. But at least they had hot running water.
Though he had above-average cold tolerance and preferred the winter chill far more than the summer sweat, Shon always enjoyed a truly hot shower. Master Veon-Zih liked to argue that baths were far superior, but in Shon's experience, baths always cooled off too quickly, which was why most ordinary citizens of Clearhelm used the public steam baths.
After they were washed and dressed, the real tour began. They were shown the hall with the officer's rooms, the infirmary, the mess hall, the library, and the classroom. “There’s only one?” Thom asked, peeking into the room with a blackboard across the far wall and long tables situated in front.
“Tomorrow is the last real day before the watch weeks start. You'll spend those four weeks catching up on foundational stuff. Kingdom-wide law, and your assigned sword dills, that sort of thing. After that, the lessons are given in a four-year rotation, so your first classes after the watch weeks will be new to both you and everyone else." the leader explained.
The nicest one elaborated, “You’ll have the same schedule we did, so comparative law, followed by history, then theology, then comparative cultural studies.” Shon wasn’t sure what he looked forward to least on that list. Though all would be better than fighting for a shower…
"There's also etiquette, monster studies, combat tactics and command, and war history and theory." his friend added, and Shon was relieved that at least most of those seemed more interesting.
Next, they were shown some of the less-used rooms. The war room, full of charts and maps and only used for large-scale tactics training, and an indoor sparring room that looked like it was never used.
“This is supposed to be for heavy weather.” one of the laughers said with a snicker.
“But Master Daunus says your enemies won’t let you move a fight inside, so why practice there,” added the other. Shon happened to agree, but also wasn’t looking forward to training in the rain after having walked in it for two days.
Lastly, they were shown the chapel, not as fine as the one in Smilnda but with the same sweet incense and warm comfort. The atmosphere seeped into Shon’s bones as they approached the head altar for a brief prayer and a blessing from the resident Cleric. He was a young man with pale brown hair and green eyes. He smiled warmly down at the new boys, saying, “Welcome to Hamerfoss, Squires of Hengist.” which in turn made each of them glow with enough pride to banish the nerves of their first day and daunting future.
***
--- Part 2/2 ---
--- Table of Contents ---
All comments and criticism is welcome.

Tl;dr don’t include something in the title if you don’t have it.
Three times in the past month I’ve seen postings like “CIB no manual” or “includes manual and artwork,” but the pictures leave parts out that are in the title. Every time I have to ask for clarification they admit something isn’t actually included.
Today I saw one for “manual and cartridge only” but no pictures of the cartridge, and sure enough, it was just the manual for sale.
Maybe I’m just noticing this now, but the takeaway is ALWAYS ask if something is unclear. I saved myself a lot of disappointment and hassle by double-checking. Is it just me?

We are in Part 3 of the Oregon Trail saga. (Here are links for Parts 1 and 2.) To know what to do, read the entire section below.
Having left Devil's Gate, you and your family are headed to South Pass, where you'll enter Oregon Territory. At "nooning" (your midday rest), Caleb, the captain sends you and his children, Joseph and Eliza, to find a resting spot. As you rest by the Pacific Springs, Caleb announces that you'll be reaching the Parting of the Ways. He explains that your options will be to continue your trail to Fort Bridger or take the Greenwood Cutoff. You should continue your trail to Fort Bridger.
While your family sets up camp, you and Joseph go to collect sagebrush. In this area, known as Little Sandy Crossing, grass and fuel are scarce. As you return to the train, you notice a Native American settlement, where the Shoshone live. You eat baked beans (seasoned with bacon) and pan bread. You fall asleep reading a (worn) copy of Gulliver's Travels, but in the early morning, you awake to the sound of a guard's alarm, yelling that you have been robbed of a cow and two horses! Joseph tells you that one of the groups you saw last night must be responsible and he's going to spy on them. He tells you to cover for him if anyone asks. You get the choice of telling Pa where Joseph is going or going after Joseph. Pick the former.
Upon hearing of Joseph's plan to spy on the other camp, Pa tells Caleb. They go with two other men to track Joseph down. Joseph doesn't even look at you when you return, but Pa says that the other wagon train was in really bad shape itself and didn't take your animals. Ma asks about the missing animals, but Pa says to just forget about them. For the next couple of days, Joseph refuses to even look at you, but after a while, he admits that going off like that was a bad idea and that you were only looking out for him. You become friends again. The next day, you arrive at the infamous Green River Crossing, which, especially in the spring (when the snow melts and raises the water level), is known to be difficult to cross. The water is a little lower in July, but you still have to walk across the river on narrow gravel bars. Some mountain men have created a ferry, but they charge a fee. The area around the crossing is now a camping site. Caleb goes to ask how much the ferry will cost, but learns that it's being repaired, which will take at least four days. You're asked if you want to wait for the ferry or cross the river. The option to pick is to wait for the ferry.
Having heard many stories of pioneers falling into the Green River, almost everyone agrees with your suggestion to wait for the ferry. The banks make for a nice camping place, and Pa and Caleb help repair the ferry, helping it get finished a day sooner. When it's time to ride across, you sit in the wagon, holding the hands of your little brother and sister, Samuel and Hannah. While waiting for the train to get across, you, Joseph, and Eliza play a game of hide-and-seek. Samuel declares you to be it and runs. After counting to fifty, you see your dog, Archie, bark and run to a bunch of bushes. You follow him and see a baby antelope. Guessing it's been orphaned or abandoned, you ask Ma for milk to give it. Upon seeing the animal, Ma softens and gives you milk. The antelope becomes your new pet. You name her Gertrude and tie a ribbon around her neck. She travels with you when the wagon train moves. One afternoon, however, tragedy strikes: during your midday break, some dogs appear out of nowhere and chase after Gertrude. Two Lakota men on horses race after them. You run after them, yelling that she's yours, but they do not hear you. The dogs kill Gertrude and the men bring her back on a horse. After a talk with Pa, the men apologize for what happened and offer you deerskins in return. Do not accept them.
You tell Pa that you don't want the deerskins. Because the dogs didn't know that Gertrude was your antelope, you would feel bad taking anything from the Lakota. Pa tells that to the Lakota, and they ride away. Just after you start to hike again, however, they return, stating that they will travel as far as the next village. The men, whose names are Roaring Cloud and Bright Sky (father and son, respectively) point out various plants, telling you what's edible and what's used for making medicine (with Ma making notes in her journal). The Lakota disappear when you make camp, but return with a jackrabbit, which Ma prepares in a stew. After the meal, Roaring Cloud tells you Lakota legends, which you, Hannah, and Samuel enjoy. The next day, you make camp at the Lakota settlement and are invited to supper. You, Hannah, and Samuel get wildflowers, and Pa brings some fuel for the fire. During the feast, you see a loaf of bear root bread, wild onion stew, and a cake-like thing (which Pa has eaten and says tastes like a sweet potato) made of another root. Roaring Cloud is looking at you, and although you don't want to offend him, you're not used to this kind of food. The options you get are to force yourself to eat this food or to just wait for leftovers. Force yourself to eat the food.
You eat some of the root cake and realize that Pa wasn't kidding when he said that it tastes like a sweet potato! You ask Joseph about the stew, and he says that it's really good. After the meal, you have nuts, berries, and fragrant hot tea for dessert. Afterward, some performers perform some stories for entertainment. The night continues until Samuel nods off and Ma motions that it's time to head back to camp. The next day, you bid farewell to the Lakota and head to Fort Bridger, but when you get there, it's not what you expect! It's a collection of rickety wooden buildings belonging to fur traders. Fortunately, there's a blacksmith shop where Pa buys shoes for the oxen and replaces the cow you lost. That night, you're sleeping in a hut when Archie growls. You start to shush him, but then, you see what made him growl: a big rattlesnake! You are asked whether you want to run away or lie still. Pick the latter option.
You and Archie stay still. Eventually, the rattlesnake slithers into a small hole on the other side of the hut. Archie's barking wakes everyone up, but when they hear of your encounter, they congratulate you for not trying to strike the snake or run. However, no one, least of all you, gets much more sleep, and (even though you aren't sorry to leave Fort Bridger) you're exhausted when the morning bugle sounds. At Bear Lake Vally, you find plenty of firewood and water, but Caleb warns of another obstacle: Big Hill, one of the steepest climbs on the Trail. When you get there, everyone starts wondering how they will get up. Joseph suggests a windlass, and when you ask what that is, he explains the process: you anchor one wagon at the top of the hill, attach ropes to its wheels, attach the other end of the ropes to the rest of the wagons at the bottom of the hill, and then turn the wheel on the windlass like a crank, pulling the wagons up the hill. Some people agree with Joseph's suggestion, but others (nervous about using something with which they're unfamiliar) suggest the slow and steady route. You should go with Joseph's suggestion.
The windlass works (although it takes several hours to get all the wagons up). As everyone has leftover breakfast as a midday snack, you start wondering how you will make it down the hill. You remember that in Alcove Spring (during the second week of your journey), you used ropes to tie your wheels and make breaks, and it took the strength of all the men to slowly bring the wagons down the hill. Here, you take the same precautions, and the men take the wagons down the hill in a zigzag pattern rather than straight down (but not without some items falling out). For the next few days, it's smooth sailing. Then one afternoon, Samuel says that you're approaching Soda Springs! You marvel at the bizarre landscapes and drink some of the water. After you drink your fill, Ma and Pa let you explore the area with Joseph and Eliza. You hear a high-pitched whistle that Joseph says comes from Steamboat Spring, but Eliza would rather go to the hot springs to soak her feet. Go to Steamboat Spring.
Whereas other springs hiss, Steamboat Spring shoots out a stream of water every fifteen seconds. After camping, you trek four days to Fort Hall, where a fur trader named Henry invites the group to supper. During supper, he says that the most difficult part of the Trail is ahead: the mountains and the Columbia Valley! He suggests going southwest alongside the California Trail. Some people are tempted by Henry's suggestion and want to go to California, but others want to continue the journey to Oregon. The options that you're given are to go to the California Trail or continue on the Oregon Trail. You should continue on the Oregon Trail although one might instinctively pick that option anyway, given the title of this series.
In the end, only three wagons (luckily for you, Caleb's isn't one of them) split off. You hike for three days to the Raft River, a deep and rapid stream leading to the Snake River (and where the families leaving for California turn southwest). On the second day, it starts to rain and doesn't stop until the third. While you search for a spot for camping, you notice that because of all the rain that's fallen over the past two days, the water levels are higher than usual. The scouts pick out a spot, but the ground is muddy and wet. Some people complain, but others want to camp anyway. Ma asks you if you want to camp or look elsewhere. Pick the latter.
You find another spot to camp, but after you eat, your throat begins to feel sore, and so does Samuel's. Ma makes you some hot tea and sends you to bed early. The next morning, your throat is less sore, but you now have a cough, which isn't helped by Samuel (who is doing much better) running around and kicking up dirt. You try to rectify this with a swig from the water-skin, but at night, you start to cough a lot, much to the chagrin of Hannah. You then remember that Caleb has some tonics, but you don't want to wake him up. Your options are to take some of the tonic or just try to sleep without it. Try to sleep without the tonic.
Ma comes to check on you and, upon seeing your situation, wraps you in a blanket and gives you some of the tonic. The next day, you've recovered from your cough, and the train makes its way to the Shoshone Falls. It's a beautiful sight. A couple of days later, you see Shoshone people spearing fish. Pa barters for several large fish and grills them over a campfire that night. The evening gives everyone a nice break, which is important because you're about to approach the hardest part of Snake River: Three Island Crossing! Caleb explains that you have to ford one section of the river (which is about one hundred yards wide) to an island. Then you cross a swift and dangerous branch to another island, and then there's one more part to get across. One man suggests tying the wagons together, stating that the extra weight will make the wagons less likely to tip over or drift downstream. Another man suggests taking the wagons apart and floating them across the river so the animals only have to manage themselves. You now have the option of attaching the wagons together or floating them across. You should attach the wagons together. (This is only your second-to-last set of choices; floating the wagons across leads to two more choices, but they both lead to bad endings.)
You tie two wagons together and travel in pairs. After two pairs go, your wagon follows. As you go in, things go smoothly until the wagon jerks violently! Ma (who isn't a very good swimmer) falls in, hits her head on a rock, and is knocked unconscious (but thankfully not killed)! Pa manages to fish her out and revive her, and she seems okay. You quickly keep moving and reach the island safely. As you reminisce over your journey, you think of what comes next, but you're now a tried-and-true pioneer. You win (for now)!
Here are two more good endings:

• Pa finds a freshwater spring with clear water. Your family sets up camp and eventually decides that this is a better life than the one on the Trail.
• Pa opens a business with the Shoshone people to help those who have missing animals, want guides, or need food and water.

Sally walked through the rotating doors into the lobby of the hotel. She made herself known to the receptionist behind the counter, who looked at Sally’s hands suspiciously. Out of shame she hid them behind her back.
“Not good with knives,” asked the woman, oblivious to Sally’s discomfort.
“Eh, I have an affliction,” she stammered. “It makes my relationship with sharp objects...difficult at times.”
The receptionist raised an eyebrow in response, but had the decency to ask no further questions.
“What’re you here for?” she asked instead.
“I have a meeting, with Mr. Janssen,” replied Sally.
The receptionist scribbled a room number on a post-it note and handed it to Sally, “Elevators are down the hall on the right,” she said, after going back to her business.
Sally walked across the marble floor towards the designated location. She was glad the hotel had elevators, because staircases could also prove themselves as difficult hurdles, if the thing inside her woke up again. Sally wouldn’t call it a hard life she led. It was, however, a challenge. Ever since she had visited that strange abandoned church all those years ago, she knew something was off inside of her. At times her body seemed to move on it’s own, but only for a moment. Doctors couldn’t find anything wrong with her, and it of course never happened at their presence. Whenever the thing inside interfered, it seemed out to spite her. The movements, or words spoken at those times always seemed aimed to hurt her, or if not, to make her life as difficult in that particular moment as possible. It never really threatened her safety, although she wasn’t sure that was intended, or whether the thing wasn’t powerful enough. She had learned to live with it, all cuts, bruises and awkward conversations included.
Sally stepped out of the elevator – of which she had managed to press the right button in one go, thankfully – and walked over to the indicated room. She knocked on the door and waited. She heard footsteps on the other end and after a couple of seconds, the wooden door opened carefully. Through the crack peered an older man.
“What do you want?” he said, suspiciously.
Sally scraped her throat and blurted out, “I want your – Sex baby, you and me!” Oh god no, not now.
The man didn’t flinch and simply opened the door far enough for her to step inside.
“Possessed, I reckon?” asked the man, like he hadn’t heard what she had just said.
Sally only nodded, too scared to speak any more.
“Sit down,” said the Mr. Janssen, as he gestured towards the chaise longue, that stood in the middle of the chamber.
Sally did as he asked.
The man walked to the bookcase across the room and fingered a couple of covers, before picking out and old book that looked to be falling apart. He slammed it on the desk behind him and fumbled through the pages.
“Is it correct that these infringements on your agency happen infrequent and are minor in nature?” he asked loudly, without looking up from the pages.
“Y-yes,” Sally answered.
“That’s good, should be an easy job,” he muttered more to himself than towards Sally.
He walked back to her, holding the book, opened on a page he apparently was looking for. He handed the book over to her, carefully. Sally picked the dusty thing from his hands and gazed over the page. It was a Latin incantation for exorcising minor demons.
“You, read that text,” said the man, without waiting for an answer.
“Exorcizamus te, omnis immundis spiritus,” Sally felt something inside her straining. “Omnis, satanica, potestas.”
With those last words, a gust blew through the room. It wasn’t strong, but it was enough to knock over a candle that Mr. Janssen had lighted while Sally was reading the prayer out loud. The papers that were scattered across the table immediately caught fire and Mr. Janssen tried to stamp out the flames, while cursing loudly.
“Omnis incursio infernalis adversarii,” Sally kept going.
That’s when the thing inside her saw it’s chance at escape and before Sally had time to react, her arm had send the book flying across the room, onto the still burning table. The old worn leather and bone dry pages immediately caught on. Mr Janssen’s eyes grew large as he saw the old book turn to ash. He abruptly pointed his finger towards the door.
“OUT! NOW! And take that damned thing inside it with you,” he roared.
Sally stood up with her head down and silently walked out of the room, while Mr. Janssen was still busy putting out the flames.
“This is the third time, you’ve done this,” she whispered to the thing inside her. “I won’t give up.”
As Sally walked away, her right hand stuck out its middle finger towards the room they’d just left, without her noticing.

Hey so this is a late response of my gyno surgery results. I will share the before pictures again and then the after pictures. I will include post op pictures, that honestly I do not want to share but I am trying to be open. I am here to answer all the questions that everyone has, so please ask them.
A few things about the recovery, it was not as easy as everyone says. Honestly the recovery was terrible for me. The day after the surgery my chest blew up like a ballon you can see in the pics shown. I had to go in and get them drained, let me tell you that this was not a pleasant experience. My incision was opened up so Dr Blau could get the fluid out. He was not gentle at all, kneading my chest and squeezing the bloody liquid out of my chest. It hurt so bad my back was sweating, heart was beating like crazy and out of breathe. Knowing what I know now I would have taken a pain killer before I went in to get it drained. It isn’t his fault, I think sometimes the procedures do not go perfect, it is just a horrible thing to experience. I had to go in 4 times and get the fluid drained out because it kept building up with fluid. Dr Blau wanted me to stay extra days but I couldn’t stay any longer, I had the procedure on Tuesday Feb 21, 2023 and my flight home was Saturday Feb 25, 2023. Luckily my aunt who is a nurse worked with a plastics surgeon for 5 years so she proceeded to change my bandages and drain the fluid from my chest for the following 2 - 3 weeks. 7 days after my surgery I could barely move my arms, I couldn’t reach above my head at all. Everything was uncomfortable, driving was absolutely terrible, dressing myself was very difficult because lifting my hands above my head was not really an option. The compression vest was awful, I could barely sleep because it hurt my back having that thing on. It sucks that the healing process went this way, I would have had better results if I didn’t not have fluid building up. I have small indentions on both sides that you can see. The incision on my right side has a decent scar that protrudes from the skin. Hoping over the next 9 months the inflammation and indentions dissipates.
Over all of that, the hardest part about the healing process was mental. I started to get really depressed and negative. I thought I was going to look horrible, I thought that my scars were going to be massive. I thought I was never going to heal, it was terrible for 6 weeks total. I went from going to the gym 6 times a week to not being able to do pretty much anything for 3 weeks and then the following 3 weeks I could do things but not lift. I didn’t have an appetite at all so I didn’t really eat allot. I saw all my gains disappearing daily and I thought I was never going to be able to get back in the gym. Luckily I had a good support system through my friends and family. I am about 6 weeks back at the gym now and feel pretty good. I have a decent amount of scar tissue on both sides that I try and massage every night. Do I love the results?No. Am I happy I did the procedure? Yes.
I will post my initial post below, I didn’t know how to add photos to that post so made a new one.
https://www.reddit.com/gynecomastia/comments/118pcmx/dr_blau_gyno_surgery/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=ioscss&utm_content=1&utm_term=1

Hello there, I’m a 21F USA 160 lb 5’5. only dx I have is fibromyalgia and depression, I take 20mg duloxetine to treat both.
2 days ago, I fell from about 3 feet up (almost 1 meter) and was not able to catch myself with my knees or hands so I landed sort of on my right side. I experienced pain in my shoulder immediately but the next day when I woke up (yesterday) the pain went from about a 4/10 to 6/10. It seems to not be getting any better.
It hurts specifically whenever my arm is at rest to my side, as well as lifting it. I can only lift my arm about halfway before the pain becomes unbearable. When I showered I was struggling to wash my hair because it was so painful. The pain also does not allow me to bend my head all the way down. In that case, the pain is in the back of my neck. All other pain is in the collarbone/shoulder area.
I am worried about a possible hairline collarbone fracture, but to my knowledge that sort of fracture doesn’t really limit mobility? I am really weird about going to the doctor in person so I appreciate any help. If anyone suspects a fracture then I will definitely go. If not, is it just part of being sore after having a fall like that? Sorry for the long read

I think the recent discussions about modern controls and now the WiFi indicator have highlighted a change in this subreddit.
I joined about 5 months ago and being part of this community was a huge and overwhelmingly positive experience in my fighting game journey.
Even when i hit my lowest point in frustration and wrote a giant (and in hindsight dumb) rant about ranked in SF5, this subreddit offered mostly help and encouragement and helped me to get back up on my feet and back into the fight. Thanks again.
But lately there has been a shift here.
Where i once enjoyed mostly objective discussions with arguements being exchanged the discussions in this subreddit have boiled up to a point where people get straight up toxic and start lashing out at each other and throwing out insults.
Let's take the modern discussion shortly abbreviated: either you are an old fart refusing change for just raising concerns about balancing or people where degenerates for using brain dead zombie control schemes.
Let's face it, while the community growing is a great thing, something growing mainstream attracts a more casual crowd and it's not always the most pleasant to deal with people joining in.
I am not saying anyone is less smart for playing casually. But a niche, - dare i say slightly nerdy - genre on general attracts brighter people than a more casual triple A mainstream game and we habe clearly seen this today. And i fought the modern discussion was the low point.
And while i think we are entering a golden age for fighting games and i feel privileged for experiencing it at the dawn we should also be ready fore some minor downsides.
Just today i saw people get insulted for A: using WiFi B: taking their time to explain the problems WiFi can cause and encouraging people to go wired if possible.
And yes i admit i got hotheaded in that discussion as well, so this is also me reflecting on that.
Discussions get heated and sometimes we have bad days and shit gets under our skins, happens to the best of us. As long as spirits cool down again and people even apologize if they overreacted it's all good.
I am bipolar, trust me while i have my mood swings generally under control they still do happen and i am also a little hotheaded by nature, i know what i'm talking about. I've been cringing about my own posts a few hours later simetimes.
All good, that happens we are all just humans.
I want to welcome and embrace all the new players but if someone with 5 posts does add nothing but your mom jokes to a discussion, give them a fair warning and if they keep that behaviour up, level 3 them out of this sub.
I don't exactly know if i would be the right person for the job, as i mentioned i am prone to have mood swings because of my mental condition on the other hand i am working in customer support and tech support dealing with angry people professionally on a daily basis. So if people are needed for this i am willing to give it a try.

(This excerpt is from a Washington Post article written by Hannah Natanson.)
FORT WAYNE, Ind. — Sydney Knipp, 16, tiptoed to stage’s edge and peered around the black curtain at the nearly 1,500 people waiting for the play to start. It was the largest audience she had ever seen.
In a few minutes, Sydney was supposed to stride before them, braids streaming, to deliver the opening monologue as Alanna Dale in “Marian, or The True Tale of Robin Hood,” a gender-bending take on Sherwood Forest’s beloved bandit.
Dotted among the crowd, Sydney saw, were security personnel in bulletproof vests. At the entrance, theatergoers were submitting to bag checks and a metal detector wand. Behind Sydney stood Fia, her 14-year-old sister, costumed as Much the Miller’s son.
Sydney and Fia, and their characters, were the reason for the security — the reason this play was happening not at school but at an outdoor theater in the girls’ hometown. Alanna confesses her love for a woman in the 16th scene. Much declares they are nonbinary two scenes later. The LGBTQ storylines drew complaints from parents, spurring Carroll High School to cancel “Marian” in February out of concern for students’ safety.
But the cast of two dozen teenagers decided to put the play on anyway. Now, on a chilly evening in late May — after raising almost $84,000, booking Foellinger Theatre and whirling through 2½ weeks of late-night rehearsals squeezed between Advanced Placement exams and finals — it was opening night for a show adults had warned them not to do.
Sydney sidled to her little sister. “How are you feeling?”
The teens believed — knew — they were part of something bigger. They knew schools across the country are nixing plays and musicals that feature gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgender roles, often due to parent objections. They were aware Republican politicians are passing a record-breaking wave of laws restricting the rights of LGBTQ children, and that Fort Wayne trends White and red.
The teens also knew they had fans: the thousands who bought $15.50 tickets or donated to their fundraiser; the local theater groups who lent decorations; even “Marian” playwright Adam Szymkowicz, whom they had met on a Zoom call.
But in these last moments with her sister, Fia had something to confide.
She was thinking about what producer Nathan Gotsch said a half-hour before showtime. Should any hecklers emerge, he told students, ushers would escort them out. One student, dressed as a king’s guard, had raised black armored gloves and promised to deter disrupters with his fists, earning laughs. But Fia wasn’t laughing now.
“If someone yells something,” Fia whispered to Sydney, “I think I’m going to cry.”
Sydney pointed to the audience. “Dude, there are so many people with dyed hair out there,” she said. “We’re going to be okay.”
She laid her arm on Fia’s shoulder. Fia rested her forehead on Sydney’s hand. The sisters stood, curled in an embrace, as the crowd began to hush.
Three months earlier, Meadowe Freeman arrived early to school for a surprise meeting called by her principal and theater director.
Auditions had just wrapped for Carroll High’s production of “Marian.” The 18-year-old, who chose theater because “I’m not very sporty,” had anticipated teasing from students about the play’s LGBTQ characters. But she never expected what she heard that day: that some parents disliked the play so much it couldn’t continue.
“You read about it on the news,” Meadowe said, “but you never expect it to happen in your school.”
Sitting near the front of the room was Tristan Wasserman, 18. He watched his friends start to cry. Walking from the meeting, he decided: The show would go on.
That night, Tristan hunted up the email of “Marian” playwright Szymkowicz. He researched the name of a reporter with Fort Wayne’s 21 Alive News. He fired off versions of the same email.
“Hello,” he wrote, “my name is Tristan Wasserman … It was actually on my 18th birthday that we found out that we wouldn’t be doing Marian.”
His efforts yielded news coverage and, ultimately, 5,600 signatures on a petition to reinstate the play. One of Tristan’s friends, Stella Brewer-Vartanian, president of a left-leaning political club at Carroll High, launched Twitter and Instagram accounts devoted to reversing the cancellation. But the school stuck by its decision.
So Tristan began recruiting students to speak at the next school board meeting. If enough teens explained why it was wrong, he figured, the adults would have to listen.
On Feb. 27, Tristan, Stella — who wasn’t part of the theater program but felt outraged by what she called adult bullying — and roughly 20 high schoolers showed up, some with prepared speeches.
Before most could speak, a woman rose. Kaye Niman said she was a taxpayer, a mother and a pastor’s wife. “Marian” — with its “LGBT whatever, however many ABCs you want to put on it” — was immoral, Niman said.
“What we believe in is what the Bible says, and the Bible says that homosexuality is a sin,” said Niman, who did not respond to a request for comment. “It’s forgivable, don’t get me wrong, it’s forgivable and we love them, but nevertheless … I applaud whoever made the decision to not have this play go on.”
As Niman wrapped up, 16-year-old Peyton Stratton sat picturing the role she had hoped for: that of Marian/Robin, who leads the troupe of Merry Men. Peyton, who wants to attend law school, admired Marian for her ferocity, wit and determination to protect the people she loves.
Telling herself to summon those traits now, Peyton walked to the microphone. She reminded the board of school anti-bullying initiatives that teach children not to tolerate hate.
“By taking down this play, you’re following the opposite of that message,” she said. “You are teaching students to fold at the first sign of struggle.”
Stella told the adults they were writing themselves into history as “hateful.”
And Tristan gave a promise: “I have not rested,” he said, “nor will I rest until this decision is reversed.”
Students headed home with hope. Tristan was in his bedroom when he got a text alerting him that the superintendent, Wayne Barker, was speaking about the play.
“This came down to an issue where our principal felt that it was going to be an unsafe activity for our students to participate in because of how divisive it was becoming,” Barker said. “I support his decision … I’m comfortable with why he did what he did.”
In a statement to The Washington Post, district spokeswoman Lizette Downey said the decision to cancel “Marian” was due not only to parent complaints, but primarily to “disruptions already occurring between students directly involved within the theater department.” She did not specify what those “disruptions” were.
Superintendent Barker declined repeated interview requests.
For a while, the students were lost. Some pondered putting on the play outside school, Stella said, but no one knew how. Then Stella got a message saying a local man she’d never met wanted to talk to her.
A former teacher born and raised in Fort Wayne, Nathan Gotsch, 40, sympathized with administrators’ plight — but felt more for the students. And, he felt, he was perfectly positioned to help.
Gotsch, who attended film school at the University of Southern California, spent his 20s working in entertainment in Los Angeles. After stints in education and journalism, he had just run unsuccessfully for Congress. Taken together, it meant Gotsch had the know-how and the network of political, activist and theater contacts the students would need to stage “Marian” themselves.
Over a video call, the idea took shape. Gotsch agreed to serve as overall producer, and four teens — Tristan, Stella, Meadowe and Kaitlyn Gulley, head of Carroll’s Gay-Straight Alliance — would become student-producers.
Gotsch set up a GoFundMe to pay for the play; it pulled in $80,000 in under two weeks. Nonprofit Fort Wayne Pride, which advocates for LGBTQ rights, stepped in as fiscal agent, managing the money.
Nathan and others identified two dozen students willing to act in “Marian” and assigned them parts. He hired a professional director and crew to handle stage management, engineering, sets, sound, costumes and lighting. He secured Foellinger Theatre for May 20 and coordinated security with Indiana State Police and parks personnel.
Meanwhile, Stella and Kaitlyn promoted the play at a “No Hate Fort Wayne” rally and a Democratic Party gathering. Meadowe and Tristan liaised between adults and students in the production — while Meadowe learned a role as a guard and Tristan served as assistant stage manager and sound designer, at one point imitating pigeon calls for the play’s soundtrack.
Rehearsals — running after school and on weekends — started May 3. The student-actors had fewer than 4o hours, across less than three weeks, to learn their lines.
Teens were facing APs and fast-approaching finals. They were fielding phone calls from journalists and messages from actors who wanted to cheer them on — support they appreciated but which took time.
The Friday before opening night, Peyton arrived late after ferrying over three students who lacked cars. Her hair was already braided in the intricate coils required for the role she had coveted: Marian.
She fast-walked into a kitchen tucked below the theater to cries of “Peyton! They need you in makeup!” and “Peyton! Go straight to makeup!”
“I know,” Peyton said, crossing to a wall and scribbling her initials onto a sign-in sheet.
She eyed the steaming
(To read the full article go to https://www.washingtonpost.com/education/2023/05/31/marian-school-theater-lgbtq-indiana/ )

*lightning sfx* You should check out u/Acceptable_Egg5560, NOW! (Seriously, thanks again for doing this with me, you're the best.)
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Memory transcript: Vekna, Venlil Citizen. Date: [Standardized human time] September 19th, 2136
Herd, I forgot how much I hate paperwork.
When we had pinpointed where Unzekep was a couple paws ago, I was eager to get on her trail. Unfortunately, reality just had to get in the way of those ambitions…which is where I find myself now. First was all the speh we had to submit to the Health and Safety Department regarding our “inquiries” into the construction site to find Tagelb. A noble action, no denying that, but it brought up questions about our presence on the site. “Why were we there? Were we associated with a third-party firm? What was the quality of evidence produced for the claim?” Stuff like that, constantly, for almost an entire Paw.
We came clean, sort of. We at least disclosed about us being journalists. My evidence showing money changing paws between that foreman and the previous safety inspector came in handy in our explanation of us looking into corruption. As an additional surprise, many of the workers of the facility came forward with older stories of regulation skirting and site mismanagement. Tagelb even chipped in, providing another perspective of what we witnessed whilst in there. Safe to say, that foreman isn’t going to be in charge of much any time soon.
But did we really need to fill out all of those affidavits??
The second problem was that, due to us revealing that we were journalists, we wouldn’t be able to simply walk up to Unzekep while she was on the job. We had to get a “press permit” that would allow us to walk in the tunnels, which meant more paperwork signing that we agreed to the risk and knew the safety standards and procedures we had to follow while underground. They even made us take a test for that!
Today, though, marked the end of our tedious paperwork and safety waivers. We were finally cleared to go into the system, and the district had promised silence on the matter. Part of me thinks that their willingness to accommodate us is due to not having to pay us like their other safety inspectors. Oh well, at least it’s a way in that doesn’t require cartoonish cover stories. I slide on my satchel and exit my room, waiting for the elevator to arrive at the correct floor so I can board.
After a short wait, I’m granted access, and yet another short wait later, I arrive at the foyer. First-meal would normally be first on the schedule, but today was special. In order to avoid detection by any unwanted eyes, we were due to leave first thing in the Paw, when almost no-one else would be out. After a brief scan of the lobby, I spot Sharnet sitting on a chair with a duffel bag on the ground next to it. I trot over to her, motioning to get her attention.
“Good Paw, Sharnet! You sleep well after all that paperwork?”
Sharnet shuts her holonote off and stows it away in her pack. “Yes, somewhat. I do wish that they would’ve just looked the other way completely, now we’re on their records. If someone’s watching, we’re a dead give-away.”
I sway my ears negatively. “I don’t think they’ll be looking deep in government registries. That would require access, and if they were in the government, chances are they’d have noticed long ago and already fled. To my knowledge, there hasn’t been much movement on the private nor the public transit systems, and none of the Harchen. Trust me, I had the same thought.” I pull out my pad, the tab for the transit logs still logged in with the temporary credentials the district has given us. “Check for yourself.”
Sharnet looks over the information rather inquisitively. “Now that’s interesting.”
I cock my head. “What is?”
“I looked up Unzekep’s home address,” she explains, “and it’s in an apartment building on the edge of town. She doesn’t have a vehicle, so by all rights she should be traveling on public transit. But this shows none of the Harchen have done so. The fact that she isn’t…”
Her sentence falls away as her ears twitch in thought. Now that she’s said it aloud, I realize how strange that is. “That…is odd, actually. You’d think that she would be using the public transit system to get to and from work each Paw.”
Sharnet’s tail swishes against the ground. “Do you remember what Tagleb said about her? He said that she spent a lot of time in the tunnels. Do you think… well, no, there’s a couple possibilities. But…”
As she’s making an appeal to rationality, I realize what she’s implying. “That she’s living in the tunnels. That’s what you were going to say, right?”
She sways her tail in the affirmative. “I don’t want to cast judgment yet. But…if she’s one of the overseers, those tunnels are well out of sight. People could probably survive a raid by hiding in there. Of course, if she isn’t a head, staying in those tunnels might not be her choice.”
I look at Sharnet skeptically. “Not her choice? What reason could someone possibly have to stay down there that isn’t their choice?”
“Well, that safety inspector that the foreman bribed likely didn’t inspect only one site.” Her claws clench against her wool. “In my previous job, there was a time when there was only one person on staff who knew how to maintain and repair the office electronics. The company has them stay on overtime. If she is in a similar situation in the tunnels…”
That’s not a good image to have in my mind. Being one of the only ones repairing equipment and materials that would have otherwise been flagged as a safety danger… My arms and legs are exhausted by just imagining what might be needed. “Oh, Herd, that’d be bad. I’m not certain that’s the case, though, as the District let us have our way with seeing her. They wouldn't do that if they had something to hide.”
Sharnet raises a finger. “If they’re smart.”
I can’t help but give a low whistle to myself at that. “If they’re smart, yeah. Ready to go see how dumb they are?”
Her tail wags in amusement as she rises from her seat. “We can grab a couple to-go salads from the meal bar and head right out, if that’s okay with you.”
“Sure, might as well if we’re going to be spending all day in the sewers.” I follow Sharnet over to the salad bar, and we order some bog-standard salads to go. Nothing fancy, we are on the clock after all. Once we receive our food, Sharnet heads back to grab that duffel bag and we head out, the light of our star bearing down on us as we exit the building.
It isn’t long before a bus comes to pick us up, the driver seemingly surprised to see someone waiting for him at this claw. We board and take our seats, eating our salads as we’re ferried to our next destination. Thankfully, only a single other person is on the bus right now, and they’re too busy with something on their pad to notice us. A public space with no noise, perfect.
As I eat, my mind wanders back to Tagelb. I had meant to go back and see him again last Paw, but paperwork had obviously gotten in the way of that. As much as I hate to admit it, I’m intrigued by the Yotuls’ archaic technology. Steam engines, massive train systems, even rudimentary hydrocarbon combustion engines! I wanted to learn more, but I knew Vekna was only tolerating that in search of our guy. I knew I had to go back to hiding eventually.
The worst part was how I had to hide myself from Tagelb, even if it was less than normal. I heard his views on Predator Disease, and I knew that if I slipped it, that was it. I’d lose yet another friend because I couldn’t keep my Herd-damned mouth shut. I’m determined to keep doing what I’m doing, even if it means hiding myself forever. From Tagelb, from Sharnet, from everybody. Ignorance is bliss, and if nobody knows I’m a monster, it’s a little easier to pretend I’m not for myself.
I’m shaken from my internal lamentations by a paw lightly shaking my shoulder. I glance over at the culprit, finding Sharnet’s gaze. “Are you okay? You went a little wall-eyed while you were eating your salad.”
I look down at my bowl, only to find it empty. I quickly reseal it and feign my innocence yet again. “Hm? Oh, yeah, just thinking about how we’re going to do this. Not an easy task, after all.”
She pulls up the duffel bag she’s been carrying into her lap and zips it open. “Thankfully, these should make it a bit easier.”
Inside are a pair of construction pelts. Visibility vests, gloves, foot coverings, and two helmets. Those… brahking uncomfortable helmets. “Do we really have to wear those?”
I know it’s a dumb question. I read the same procedures as she did. This equipment is a basic requirement for us to go into the tunnels. No matter how much it rubbed up against my ears.
“Yes, I’m sure. We read the same waiver, we signed on the same lines. I’m not a fan either, but sometimes you have to make sacrifices.” She pulls out one of the pelts and hands it to me, retrieving the other for herself. I groan internally at the mere thought of having to wear another helmet. She gives her ears a comforting flick. “These are brand new, so the padding won’t be as worn down as the last helmets were. I don’t know if it will stop the bother, but at the very least it shouldn’t be as bad.”
Small comforts. “I hope so, yeah.” As I look over the helmet, the bus stops and opens its door to our destination. “Industrial center! Next stop, the Intraplanetary Transit Hub!” We stand from our seats and make it off the bus, which unceremoniously closes its doors and leaves us stranded in the dead center of the industrial heart of Sidestar.
The town is centered around maintaining the power plants that comprise the central economy of the District. As a city well within the twilight, power meant life. It allowed the growing houses to keep the local edible vegetation harvest alive, light up the iron ore mining operations in the mountains, and the steam tunnels flowing with heat to fight back against the cold winds from the night side flowing down from the mountains. Those steam and drain tunnels are where a large number of people work. Having to expand and repair sections as their city grows. And Unzekep is currently working on replacing outdated units. Somewhere in there…
I’m pulled from my analysis of the area by Sharnet, who has since applied her pelt. “Come on, put on your uniform so we can get down to where we need to be.” I heed her words and quickly apply my clothing before following Sharnet through the complicated system of tubes and ducts that comprises the ground-level of one of the for-profit geothermal reactors.
Thank the Herd for the 3d map the District had given us access to. According to the schedule, Unzekep should be in the coolwater pump room, replacing the turbines in one of the pumps. Unfortunately, that’s all the way in the basement of the building, accessible to the steam tunnels leading under the rest of the town.
Steam heating the town. And the Feds call the Yotul primitive for using the same principles. I shake the annoyance from my mind as we descend down ladder after ladder, walking across steel catwalks over huge drops for the snowmelt that would occur after the night finished. I can see what all those waivers were about now.
From my map, we should be coming up to the pump room soon. It’s next to this… cargo… elevator… Oh for the Herd’s sake!
Sharnet huffs, panting from the humidity and heat of the underground caverns. “What puddle of Speh left that out of the official map? We could’ve been here a quarter-claw earlier!”
“Beats me, but at least we’re here,” I manage to say, leaning against the wall as it feels like I’m trying to breathe through syrup. “S-Sorry, just need to take a breather for a second. The humidity down here is really messing with me.”
“I understand,” she holds out her tail for a comfort touch, “if you think you’re about to have an attack, don’t hesitate to let me know. Your health is important.”
“Thanks,” I huff. After a few moments of slow breathing, the air managed to become a little more breathable. “Alright, I think I’m good. Are you ready to meet our next in line for Spehlicker of the Hectorotation?”
“If we’re lucky,” she replies before sliding open the doors. Four massive pumps dominate the room. They stand as long and tall as the bus we rode in on. It’s truly impressive to see the power of the planet itself being harnessed through the mechanics of these machines. But… I’m unsure about the noise. It isn’t too loud, Sharnet and I would be able to raise our voices over them without going into full on shouting, but it was a constant high volume I haven’t been around before. It feels…grating.
Thankfully, it’s obvious that we're in the correct room. One of the pumps has a series of curved pieces of metal with a pile of bolts and… a stack of impellers, if I’m remembering the word correctly, laying on the ground. Tools and spares are scattered around the area, a mug of some sort of beverage is on a nearby ledge, wisps of steam still coming from its surface. Wait…wisps of steam…
I place a paw against Sharnet’s chest, to her confusion, as I scan the room for anything out…of…the… There. In the corner, a few splotches of green on an otherwise gray surface. Imperfect camouflage, just like Tagelb had said. As I focus, I can make out an outline of a trembling person, moving in tandem with the spots. She must have heard us approach. I gesture to Sharnet in the direction and she flicks her ears affirmatively.
“You must be very skilled,” she says, staring at the splotches with an eye, “your camouflage is practically seamless.”
As I watch, the splotches increase in their trembling. A voice floats out under the hum of the pumps, barely heard by my ears. “No, no, go away, leave, this is safe, no, please leave, don’t hurt me, no.”
“We are here about Dawn Creek,” I say, “We-
The Harchen shrieks.
The gray walls reveal the colors of a Harchen in distress as she falls to the ground in sobs. It’s difficult to see anything about her, as she curls herself up and pleads. “P-Please! No! I don’t w-want to go back! Don’t m-make me go back!”
Both Sharnet and I had lightly backed away at her shriek, but now we both approached her. Her scale shifts seem almost sluggish, but they do indeed shift. It’s only once I get a better look at her face do I realize what Tagelb was talking about.
Her facial features are slightly flatter, looking almost compressed compared to that of the other two Harchens we’ve run into here. Her forehead is a bit larger than normal, and her neck is slightly shorter. In fact, she herself is shorter than average, if only by a little. Near her temples, four splotches of unchanging green remain constant despite the rest of her shifting form, each an imperfect circle of dull green.
She just keeps sobbing and pleading incoherently as we approach, not even attempting to run. It was like… it’s like she’s given up. This can’t be it, can it? I expected pathetic, but this? This is just sad to watch. But as I do indeed watch, something comes to me. This isn’t fear of getting caught, this is fear of going back.
I remember what I learned about the treatments they used, the drugs they administered, and what Sharnet had said to Tagelb. People with no disease at all. It all clicks together in an instant. This isn’t one of the heads of the Dawn Creek facility.
No.
This is an escapee.
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Hi
I have an idea that connects restaurants and users in a creative way. (Similar to opentable concept) For validation, I have done prototype and run ads on it and got 25% conversion rate on all users who saw the ad. The other part is the restaurants, I want to offer them this service for $19.95 a month( in return they get to show on the app, and $1000 ad credit. How do you think I should validate the interest of resturants? I’m thinking of cold calling and cold emails, but thought you might know a better approach.

Summary: A demolition firm struggles to take down a damaged building for their mysterious clients
I Was a Foreman at the Grazer Tower Demolition
By now Grazer Tower has faded as a household name but to some the rumors and madness surrounding it refuse to die. The demolition of the massive three hundred twenty foot octagonal hotel left a gap in the Atlanta skyline but little fondness in anyone's hearts. I have no particular first hand insight into the freak lightning strikes on the 30th floor atrium which killed 13 people but I am willing to tell my side of the story about the demolition effort leading to the botched implosion. I tell this as a full, open, and honest disclosure. The legal maneuvering and ink has dried, all of the dead are buried, and all the bleeding stopped. The scars remain, the pain persists, the things I saw there are burned in my head even after they've been discredited into the conspiracy theory woodwork of the internet. The lightning storm struck on a Sunday afternoon and the next day for all we knew the bodies were still warm when a lawyer representing the owners of Grazer Tower entered our corporate office. I look back on it now with open and clear eyes and realize it was all very strange from the start when my Lead Foreman, Tom, and I were called into the meeting in progress.
The lawyer and now our client, looked like a fairly normal man in his mid thirties aside from his impeccably white suit which was ironed to the point of looking like stone rather than cloth. Beside the white suit his lips were an uncomfortable maroon and glossy. Besides this he spoke in a plain, clear, and disarming manner refraining from legalese and maintaining a firm but not imposing eye contract with whomever he was speaking directly to.
He told us in no uncertain terms he was instructed to contract with our firm to take down his client's building. Tom and I were shocked when we heard this after all, the lightning disaster, while tragic and perhaps undeservedly tarnishing in the short term to the Grazer Hotel's reputation, did not render the structure unusable nor unsafe to its surroundings. The worst damage was that the steel dome of the 30th floor atrium had collapsed into the vaulted restaurant and ballroom of the 29th floor but that's where the structure damage started and ended, in fact aside from the 28th, 29th, and 30th floor, city engineers working overnight already declared the building sound. So while perhaps still time consuming and costly, repairing the building was definitely possible and cost effective but owners, to make an analogy, were basically insisting on totaling a car after a minor parking lot fender bender. They gave us a specific date by which the building needed to be taken down. When our Boss, Jim, rebuffed the lawyer, not only because the date was challenging and soon but also because it was possible we could have it dropped BEFORE the date specified. The lawyer insisted the building go down on the date given – not later and not earlier. Jim swallowed hard and then glanced at Tom and I. Then the lawyer involved the name of the head of the owner's group, a Mr. Rohmer.
Mr. Rohmer, according to the lawyer, was offering our firm one hundred percent of the cost upfront and another twenty perfect of the total cost plus any overruns – stating if the implosion came early or late, it would mean all very little – no, that's no a typo, that's how the lawyer phrased it from his client, Mr. Rohmer. With that detail out of the way, you can see how the car totaling analogy breaks down considering the owners did not stand to profit from it's demolition – in fact quite the opposite.
The lawyer chuckled a bit to break the tension. He explained his clients and Mr. Rohmer in particular were an unorthodox bunch and then even insisted he wear the white suit in any of their dealings. The lawyer produced a tablet PC from his messenger bag and leveled it to Jim. On the tablet was all the banking confirmation codes ready to go for a direct deposit into our firms account alongside a contract. Jim seemed to hiccup or belch in excitement as he hurried around the short side of his desk to sign it since his stubby t-rex arms could not reach across his desk.
The firm was committed, we were committed – I was committed and I started to mentally cramp up over the challenges we all faced. The Grazer Hotel was in the middle of a dense urban grid. It had to be precise drop with virtually no margin for error. Jim poured us a dram of scotch from the bottle hidden under his desk. None of us a second thought about Rohmer's cryptic remark – after all, how often did you get a one hundred twenty perfect no-bid contract walk in off the street, out of the blue?
A combination of exhilaration over the money and anxiety over the work load kept us all from sleeping that night. Jim and Tom ended up going out and having a wild night to celebrate while I went home to mentally prepare not only myself but also my wife and kids. As a family they were staring down a month and a half of late nights and weekends with no dad. My wife was frustrated until I told her about the bonus and then she said she'd fill the lonely time making plans to send the kids to Disney World and then find a place for us to spend alone together. The promise of a much needed vacation after this only super charged the butterflies in my stomach further in anticipation of this challenging season ending.
As the assistant foreman I had office and on-site duties. Most of it was coordinating between the two. This included personnel, setting up site security – including guards and cameras to keep urban explorers and vagrants of out the dangerous site and satisfy OSHA hazardous work place safety requirements. The most challenging duty was site prep which included disposal of furnishings, removal of windows and other flourishes of the structure's facade which could become deadly shrapnel during an implosion. Fortunately, despite all of this, the nagging questions about permits and clean-up contracts were already handled by the lawyer. Rohmer's group also waived any rights to furnishings which means they could be unceremoniously hauled out in any way we chose to and disposed of.
Now I suppose some of these things should have came as red flags to me – or at least some one in the company but we all justified it as the group must have connects and short cuts to permits and it was a relatively new building, only about twenty years old in fact and furnishings – whether old or new probably weren't of any antique or sentimental value. All in all these were blessings since they freed our hands a bit and made a near impossible deadline more possible.
Of course the good news came with some bad news. The city engineers forbade us from working at the 28th, 29th, and 30th floors – unless we brought in a separate crew to stabilize those levels first. This was quite the fly in the ointment for the controlled implosion plan we sketched out. The 30th floor wasn't as much of a problem but the 29th floor ballroom and the weakening of the 28th floor meant we can't inspect for how compromised they were by the steel atrium dome. For all we knew if we blew the 27th floor on down the dome could shift and topple over the top three floors outside of the implosion safe zone, imperiling people and nearby structures.
I raised holy hell about it while Tom stood calm. It could take months to stabilize and clear those floors and far more money than I thought our eccentric client would pay in overruns. Jim waved me off mid sentence and simply told me he'd take care of it. That was good enough for Tom so it had to be good enough for me. I went back to my job – securing site and planning drop.
Although we had a problem with the top floor our saving grace lie in the basements. It had a three story subterranean parking garage, a basement level pool, and a utility sub-basement. We could easily smash the first ten or twelve floors into that deep footprint. Also the utility sub-basement gave us a clean cut off from the grid and a fairly convenient way to protect the surrounding grid without interruption. Still, at least part of our team would take have to take three weeks out of our six and change to handle the utilities.
The first week was hectic, they always were but we hit no major snags. By the end of it were on schedule and all of the parts were coming together. We thought maybe, just maybe, we were well on our way to an early Christmas bonus but nothing could prepare us for what was coming.
If you work on a site long enough and work anywhere on the site security reporting chain you're bound to get a few questionable reports from your night guys. Let's face it, for folks who are wake all night five or six nights a week poking around with flashlights chasing shadows, every building every where is haunted. I've been on the site security chain for thirteen years so it was easy for me to dismiss reports from the night guys about unusual glows on gutted floors and stairwells, elevators which moved on their own with no one calling for them or inside when they opened on a random floor, or the security cameras and cellphones constantly going offline on the 27th floor and the utility sub-basement.
I wasn't convinced anything of concern was going on until I got called on site by the test drilling team. This team was responsible for sampling the support materials to determine where it was best to place the explosives and what explosives would be best to use. They reported the interior supports were designed in an unusual way with a honey comb of unorthodox metals and concrete not reported on the building's records or blueprints. Specifically, they reported the concrete was impregnated by some kind of metal veins which gave off a bright shimmer. I was asked to come identify it but they claimed it disappeared by the time I arrived.
I was irate at the team and their supervisor for having me to come on down on site for something that sounded so wrong to begin with. They showed me a grainy cellphone video and told me they would swear on a stack of Bibles the sparkling compound welled up in the test coring like mercury, turned blood red and bled on the floor before disappearing into the torn up carpet. I chastised them for making this up and threatened to get new sub contractors if they kept wasting my time. I spoke with a separate sample team on the lower levels and they too discovered some unusual metal compositions – ones which were different then the ones found the top floors. One of the engineers speculated that the contrast in metals between the top and bottom floors could be cause the building to hold an electrical charge, like a battery or like a capacitor. Either way, the engineer said it would require more explosives than initially thought to take down the structure.
A couple of weeks later we were painfully behind – glass removal in particular was going slow because those contractors claimed they were constantly losing their toys. They also claimed one night to have cleared the top five floors on the east side of all their glass – only for all the windows to appear fully intact the next morning. I was forced to end their sub contract due to misrepresentation of work accomplished.
The glass wasn't the only thing slowing us down. The wire and plumbing removal was hindered by the wires somehow were fused to the pipes and in some places, the pipes were fused to the load-bearing members – we thought maybe it was due to the lightning strikes but that really didn't make sense since all of the wiring and plumbing otherwise seemed to work fine before we turned off the utilities. The only thing going for us was the helicopter loophole. Instead of accessing the 30th floor through the condemned floors we were able to get work teams on the atrium floor by helicopter. The bodies of the 13 were removed before we started working and before the atrium fully collapsed into the ballroom but the teams working on the roof reported many unusual artifacts including stained glass and Greek letters comprised of unusual amalgams of metal.
All of the strangeness culminated in the disappearance of one of the night time security guards named Phillipe. I say disappear because his girlfriend filed a missing persons report with the police and when they came to investigate Tom was busy with the atrium operations so the job fell to me. I walked the investigator through guard's smart phone filed reports from the previous evenings. Admittedly I was behind on my end approving the reports so I was embarrassed when things in the report took a turn. His reports including the same odd glows the others were reporting in the stairwells and seeing metallic veins throb on the walls.
His last reports stuck in my head: Report: Sub-basement 4 clear, 0312. Report: Sub-basement 5 clear, 0305. Report: Sub-basement 6 clear 0237.
His “all clear” reports documented levels of the building which did not exist and the further he went into the areas which did not exist, the automatic timestamps went backwards in time. It made no sense – unless he was confused as to where he was due to intoxication and there was software glitch with the timestamps. I was forced to give the investigator no firm explanation.
It's easy to write off a high security guard – they're flaky by their nature and have plenty of reasons to ghost a part time gig and even to pull prank on their final reports. I almost wrote it all off until I saw his girlfriend – apparently his fiance, handing out missing persons fliers outside of the site gate one morning. She seemed absolutely heartbroken and I got stabbed in the gut thinking maybe this wasn't a ghosting and prank after all. Seeing is believing and the next week I started to believe. Tom was finishing up on the atrium level. We used some heavy lift choppers to remove the rest of the frame and glass. Now we could get a better look into the section which collapsed into the 29th floor. We started by using a series of video drones to investigate the melted twisted dome through the collapsed roof. We quickly learned that the drones were being interfered with as their feed would cut out or their batteries would die almost immediately upon entering the ballroom.
So, we had to cut some corners, against city regulations, we let Tom and two others rappel in from the roof on secured anchored lines with helicopter over watch support. We needed to do this because we needed make sure that collapsed wreckage would not move and potentially change the implosion direction. Tom got twisted in his gear as he tried to lean into one of the holes in the roof. He slipped and fell in, disappearing from sight. We frantically radioed for Tom as the other two workers abandoned their own attempts to peer in and scrambled to Tom's aid. Tom was pulled out of the section uninjured but he appeared to be in shock, he looked wild eyed and shook as he was put on the helicopter and lowered back to ground level. Within minutes, Jim called us back to the office to discuss the near miss.
Two weeks to go and week behind, a missing guard, and now a near fatal accident. That for Jim, was the last straw. Tom and I had run out the rope Jim gave us to hang ourselves with. Jim slammed his hand on his desk as he catastrophized, red in the face, nearly breathless, he yelled we could very well kiss that twenty percent goodbye with the way things are going. He pressured Tom to go on the record after his dip into the structure that the atrium debris ball in the ballroom posed no threat to the implosion. Tom was elsewhere. He stared off in a thousand yard stare before replying to Jim that it posed no threat. Then Tom headed for the door. Jim screamed at him that he wasn't done chew us out but Tom only said he had to get back to it. I supported Tom and followed him. He and I headed back to the site to secure the night shift changes – another night not at home and having a late dinner.
I asked Tom in the car ride back what he saw in there. Tom was fixed in a trance and barely responded. He said it was wild. When we got back to the site, Tom separated from me through the gate while I strolled across the street to grab us some dinner from a street vendor. As I stood around waiting for two gyros and two cokes I could help but be mesmerized by the gutted tower. It seemed to breath in the spotlights inhaling puffs of the dust and dirt on the site and then exhaling it. A faint glow, barely perceivable against the light pollution, seemed to brighten, dim, and fade from the upper floors with each of the building's breaths. I was transfixed on it and it was the first time the building gave me an eerie feeling.
I got back on the site, food in hand, there was a buzz in their air as the night shift streamed in and the day shift streamed out. I barely had my hardhat seated corrected on my head when the site's emergency alarm blew. The interim foreman tossed me a radio as I was swept with him and our site occupational safety and emergency personnel to the basement.
Our increasingly panicked footfalls blotted out the squawk of the radios but I could hear one name again and again in the equally panicked messages – Tom Tom Tom. Whatever was happening was happening to Tom.
We reached the pool level and a trail of gasps proceeded me into the pool. There was Tom in his vest and hardhat face down in the middle of the pool with crimson oozing out him into the cerulean tiles lining the drained pool. We piled in from the ladders and shallow end to get to him. It was apparent when the first folks reached him that he was dead. They hauled him out on a stretcher and to our shock he looked like he had been dead for much longer than possible and his skin was water logged despite there being no water. He had died of fall trauma possibly despite the pool only being six feet deep. The paramedics also claimed he had water in his lungs. Then I noticed he was wearing his rappelling harness weaved in his vest – but that made no sense – he took it and his vest off when we were getting chewed out by Jim. Why would he put his rappelling gear on again.
I was the assistant foreman no more. Now the buck stopped with me. As they took Tom to the morgue we all knew the show must go on – our client demanded it, Jim demanded it and Tom would have wanted it that way. The same police investigator from the guard's disappearance met with me over Tom's death. They said it was standard procedure with work place deaths. I gave him a copy of the footage on an SD card and left the moment after it left my hand.
I had the recording queued up to the time of the commotion. The video we provided had a poor angle and was focused on the door to monitor access – the comings and goings of people. It was shift change so people were filing in and out Tom was somewhere in the crowd. The pool was one of the areas which required both foot patrols and constant video monitoring. I hit the rewind button on accident and watched his body lie there and lie there and then the timestamp sped past the 1900 hour mark. We were in traffic from meeting with Jim at that time. This was impossible but I kept my finger on the rewind button. Around 1400 the camera shakes a bit and there is slight glow reflecting on the doors so I let it play back to the shake. There is a soft green glow and then could hear a heft thud in the room. I gulped knowing that was Tom falling into the pool around the same time he fell into the hole in the roof. The soft glow turned brighter and brighter like a laser shining into the lens – something that wasn't present on the rewind. There was a flash of an incomprehensible shape or form on the screen. I was physically hurt in my eyes like I had just stared into the sun. I was left dazed with the shaped burned into my eyes with each blink. Then the camera system shorted out and a tiny puff of smoke left the memory module. The cameras blinked off wall to wall, the whole system was dead.
With the cameras fried, regulations required someone high in the company to be on site or we'd have to leave for the night. So I stayed knowing we couldn't afford to lose an hour much less an entire night. I circled the pool between approving payrolls and directing the increased security guard traffic required to monitor more areas. I was thinking about what I would say at Tom's funeral. I was thinking about Tom's family and what they would think about his apparent suicide.
I was forced to patrol the rest of the sub-basements as well since most of the guards were at the site perimeters or higher levels. I would have to follow paths of Phillipe, the disappeared guard, and all of the other guards who had mismatched timestamps on their increasingly strange reports. If not for today's incident and the recording of Tom's death, I would have stood fast to the idea that these reports were the product of night jitters and drugs but now, no.
I gritted my teeth as I exited the pool area to patrol the lower levels. I hated this building I muttered to myself. I couldn't wait to see it all rumble. I thought about which part I'd like to keep from the site to place in Tom's casket – then I realized it probably wasn't going to be an open casket funeral. I was lost in my thoughts and hatred for the building as I roamed through the parking garage into the utilities basement. I lost track of where I was as I weaved down stairwells.
I shown my flashlight on the wall and the floor level sign said “Sub-basement 999”. I stopped cold in my tracks. I was hoping it was a prank but I knew it was no prank. Then I thought maybe I'd have some answers. Maybe I would finally see what all the strangeness was about. But then I freaked out about Phillipe's disappearance and turned to run back up the stairwell. I ran up four levels to what I thought was the lobby and I pushed the door open.
My jaw hit the floor when I saw a black and white galaxy – the stars were black and the space was white with gradations of gray. The whole room was just white outer space and the whole universe swirled fast counter clockwise. I tried to breath and when I did the galaxy shrunk before my eyes until it was the size of a tiny of marble and then even smaller to a speck of dust. I reached out as it floated towards me. I stared at the speck in a cold sweat. As I stared, I was looking deeper and deeper into impossible detail. In the dust I found the milky way galaxy, I found our solar system, I found Earth and then I found North America, and then I found myself back in the pool room dripping in sweat.
Time seemed to skip and space was malleable in that hotel. As we approached the deadline to drop it, some jobs which would take hours took days and some jobs which would take days took minutes. The anomalies seemed to swarm tonight and day and yet we pressed on. Tom was buried and I couldn't go.
We met the deadline and the city came out in numbers to watch us drop the thirty floor structure. They gathered nearly two blocks away clad in ponchos and dust masks bracing for the implosion triggered by half a ton of high explosives.
I was so burned out and demoralized. My mantra became “this is for Tom, this is for Tom” and it was the only thing carrying me to this day. I chalked up all the anomalies and even my own experience on 999th sub-basement level as a reaction to shock, loss, grief, and exhaustion.
We were on the thirty minute countdown and Mr. Rohmer's attorney was designated as the trigger man. He stood there with Jim and I in the command trailer with the detonator remote. The remote triggered a two minute countdown on the charges from a master control station in my command trailer. All the charges had to be hardwired old school style because we were getting too much walkie talkie and radio interference from inside the structure for any other method of trigger to be reliable. I was too tried to make a stink about insisting I do it. I just wanted it to be over but suddenly a freak thunderstorm brewed up over the city. The skies were overcast and we were on the verge of having to abort the implosion until the next day – despite the next day being a day past the deadline. If we didn't abort and went through with the implosion, there was a strong chance the shock waves from the blast would bounce back off the lower cloud base and shatter windows and ears across the city.
I sat in my command chair at the perimeter in dismay, almost in tears as it started to rain. I felt my heart drop into the acid of my stomach as I ordered the suspension of the implosion for the day. The lawyer, surprisingly, did not resist. I watched as the crowds dispersed from the viewing lines and police started to permit traffic back through the streets surrounding the site.
Then a group of unauthorized personnel threw open the door of the trailer. They were a mass of men and women clad in pressed white suits, stoney faces with thin maroon lips, one of them carried a white covered book.
The attorney dropped his eyes and head in deference to elderly man at the head of the congregation. The attorney addressed him as Monsignor. The man introduced himself as Monsignor Rohmer and he placed his hand on his attorney, calling him a cousin of the congregation, stating there will be no postponement and no delay.
Rohmer, a man I judged to be in his late 50's or early 60's was bald and covered it with a white derby hat. He was tall, about six five, and thin, so thin his suit fit him like snake half shedding its skin. His was face long and his cheeks thin and worn like a mountain side. His voice was steady and low like waterfall. Everything he said bloomed with authority and confidence. He ordered the building would be dropped in twenty minutes.
I told him I didn't care if he was the owner, the building could not be blown in this weather and I snatched the detonator out of his attorney's hands. Rohmer, moving faster than I believed humanly possible with some kind of martial arts move swiped the detonator from my hands. Simultaneously, he had two of his followers press Jim against the wall. They put him in a sleeper hold and he slumped down to the floor barely getting a word out. Then Rohmer gestured to his flock to follow towards the building.
They left in a fast deliberate almost choreographed walk like a flock of geese flying in formation. I grabbed the radio to get police help but I realized that was hopeless. I watched as our trailer was shrouded in the same interference we experienced in the building's interior. The CCTV monitors flickered out and the radio squawked static. Then I realized Rohmer had no control over the detonation and no way to contact his followers still with us in the command trailer. So I did what I had to and pulled the master key out of the master detonator in the command trailer and chased after the flock. I needed to know what was happening I needed to see with my own eyes what all of this was all about.
The Congregation had reached the lobby and I saw the trailing end of the clad white congregate into the stairwell. I darted at my best speed to follow them.
I reached the stair well door. I found Rohmer standing on the top step, apparently waiting for me. I was out of breath while he began to speak to me in his booming voice. He explained to me that if the building did not fall in the next twenty minutes, all of Earth would be pulled, sucked, inside out and down through the building into the black and white universe. The entire building, but especially the atrium dome, he continued, was designed and built to create and then temporarily contain an impossible shape, a living form, a 4 dimensional object, a tesseract, when struck by lightning in the presence of thirteen self-sacrificial Congregate members. This shape would slowly expand and cause space and time anomalies before growing so large inside compared to its size would pull us all into place with no life.
The shape was still in the process of forming even as we spoke, he said. It would reach critical mass and dimensional contortion and the only way to stop it was to disfigure and crush it in the hotel's collapse. He led me into the pool level where his entire congregation was sitting cross-legged where Tom fell. A green pulse, like a laser, came down from the ceiling into the group's center, where their white book lay open on blank pages. I had a feeling this glow was being projected down from the ballroom where the dome of the atrium was taking its final fourth dimensional form.
After a loud chant from the white clad followers, the book slammed shut and turned from a brilliant white shimming cover to one black as night. As they passed around book, their white suits turned black and the formed a single file line. Rohmer left my side and pulled the detonator from his suit. He showed it me and tossed it at me. In my panic I reached out with both hands to catch it but I forgot I still had the master key in my sweat slick hand and it fly out and fell at the foot of Rohmer.
I asked what he planned to do with the key without a lock and a jammed detonator. Rohmer bent down and grabbed the key and looked me without a hint of concern. He took the new black book into his hands and opened it facing the wall of the pool. A new green pulse launched from the book and flickered on the tiles. An octagonal outline appeared to frame a hazy image of a tropical beach. One by one Rohmer's congregation walked into the side of the pool, into glow and seemed to arrive safely on the otherside of the beach.
Once all his compatriots were on the beach, he turned a page in the book and reopened it, projecting another octagon portal on the side of the pool. I could see his destination – it was the command trailer. He stepped through portal and yelled to me from the other side that I had two minutes. The portal sealed.
I could hear the warning sirens we installed going off above me. Needless to say, I made it out, just barely. I reached the perimeter fence screaming to anyone who was in ear shot to run away. The building imploded as planned but I was caught in the dust cloud and developed tinnitus severe enough to be comparable with combat veterans.
The shock waves from the explosions were reflected off the cloud base and channeled down the street by other skyscrapers. Virtually every window in a two block radius around the site was shattered and hundreds of people were hurt in the resulting stampede and vehicle collisions caused by fleeing from the flying glass cascade. Parts of downtown looked like a war zone for weeks afterward.
Rohmer and the rest of his group, including the lawyer, had disappeared out of the trailer in another portal leaving a suitcase of gold equaling the twenty percent promised. Our company was fined, sued, and threatened with criminal charges and eventually put of business. There wasn't much left after paying the cities fines and lawyer fees.
Though I was spared any direct sanctions, I forced into an early retirement. I've had time to research Rohmer's group. There are at least six mentions of figures like Rohmer on the deepest parts of the conspiracy web. They seem to show up at a locale experiencing paranormal activity with a white book and then leave with a black book. Their departure usually marks the end of any strangeness. I can't be sure but this congregation seems to be summon demons, which they exorcise, by trapping them in their books. Trapping maybe a poor term to use since, as in the case of the Grazer hotel encounter, they can apparently cleanse the anomalies and then use the book containing them to weaponize a portion of the traits of whatever their unholy creations posses.
I suspect Rohmer and his congregation, now with the ability to teleport, are accelerating their plans, to whatever ends these paranormal means enable them.
Theo Plesha - Sequel to "Flush" by Theo Plesha on The Chilling App

Background;
Basically leaving out as much of the sob story as possible since Im sure a lot of you hear it all the time, My moms sister left a very abusive relationship a few years ago and finally started her new life. She moved up north to be with her daughter while shes in college and we stayed with her son who went to college here. A few months in she had a Brain aneurysm and we thought she was dead as they found her on the floor in a coma. After waking up from the coma they were able to get her going again but she was abused by 2 nurses while recovering, they had to remove part of her skull and did not store it properly so it rotted and they had to dispose of it, she lost a lot of brain function and motor skills, they found more aneurysms besides the ones removed.
Currently;
We're basically lost on where to go and what to do in terms of how we can get her medicine, physical therapy, Dr appointments covered. Last time I combined my savings with my mom to pay $8k for medicines etc that she needed and now were both broke. She was still married to the POS so we were able to move forward with divorce paperwork since we have power of attorney and she's coherent enough and we did so because they were trying to deny her something like medicare or social security because she had a husband. No one told us this until recently on why she didn't qualify so that info would have been great to know sooner so that we could have been further along in the process, and believe me we have been on the phone with different offices and everyone hears our story says their gonna help and then nothing really moves forward they never call us back. Very rarely we get someone who is a blessing and their like okay go here fill this out and then do this etc and that should get you going but theres so many tricks and loop holes that we dont know about yet and since were both working full time jobs to support my aunt at this point we kind of dont have the time.
Sorry if this sounds like a rant but im on break and just frustrated with how hard getting care is. Im glad my Aunt is here, I thought her waking up would be the hardest part but by far its the after care trying to figure this all out that has been the worst.
We are in Florida if this helps.
Issues;
After she was awake everyone at the hospital basically stopped caring and this is where the nurse incident occured (one dropped her even after my family asked if they could help her move her, the other was forcefully moving her arms and body to shove a special therapy device on her and strap it on.) when this was reported to another nurse and Dr the rest of the hospital started treating the family very coldly and the new nurse said "oh your one of our problematic ones that gets people in trouble huh?" My family is not the type to sue ir pursue anything from anyone so they took it and left.
Getting medical records transfered to other offices was a nightmare as some offices never answered the phone or said they cant do it or even asked us why we wanted to in the first place etc. Dr's who were previously seeing her for a while stopped answering the phone and making appointments.
We were told she would never walk again etc and to basically give up but my mom kept fighting and finding people who would help even if it was briefly as issues with the insurance would end up getting in the way, (a office would say they accept the insurance and then a few weeks later the policy changes and they dont). We were able to get my aunt to walk and use most of her arms which is a big win and FU to those who wanted us to give up.
without going into too much detail you can understand our frustration with the run around we have been given such as, We have been making phone calls to different companies and emails with the social security office etc but every person we talk to contradicts the previous person or theres no follow up or explanation on what to do next. One person says we need a specific form and they either send it to us and dont tell us where to send it to after its filled, the form never leads to anything, or were never told about any form at all until several phone calls later where someone that actually cares tells us theres more steps. Social security hasnt paid us a dime and we keep getting stuck at every turn, now that we are in process to get social security medicare they wont give her medicaid anymore (something where they basically said we cant qualify for the only thing we were able to get her since were applying for something else) Dr's are refusing to see her at all due to insurance issues or just that their offices are never calling us back.

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The weather was almost cold enough to imagine that Aya was back home, minus the creeping terror of the fog. She tried to push that last fact out of her mind, but it was ever present, along with its smothering sister from beneath the church. Still, despite the unpleasant edge, it was likely the last time she would get a proper rest before the battle.
The twins were obviously in their own world, Frare picking at the grasses around the tree, Sorore with eyes half-closed. The only people to offer any conversation were the paladins.
“Where… where do you come from, Lillian?” she said, after watching another bank of the fog wander overhead.
Lillian turned to her and gave her a strange look, not angry exactly, more wondering why she’d asked the question. Aya hoped that it wasn’t too much of a rude question back in Angorrah. At least she could always fall back on the excuse of being ignorant if it was.
“I come from Angorrah,” said the paladin.
“No, I mean where does your family come from?” she said.
Lillian’s expression deepened as if she was trying to figure out whether the question had some deeper meaning to it.
“Well, my father’s side of the family reaches back into antiquity. They’ve been on the same land for centuries. My mother is from Nieth, if that is what you mean, lady Aya.”
Aya nodded in encouragement, trying to get the Paladin to expand on the details. She didn’t, looking expectantly for a followup to the question.
“I was… just trying to make conversation,” Aya admitted, her gaze falling to the trodden dirt.
“Oh,” said Lillian, leaning back further as she looked elsewhere trying to abate the awkward realisation, “well, like I said, most of my family comes from my father’s side, and thus Angorrah. My mother is the only one that’s lived outside of it. Supposedly I have some uncles and aunts in Nieth, and some cousins too, but…”
“You’ve never met them?”
Lillian shook her head as she looked out to what was probably south - in the shifting fog it was difficult to tell.
“Never. I was inducted into the church at fifteen, I’ve never been outside of the continent. In fact, your village was the farthest I’ve ever been.”
“Oh. So you live in the actual city, then? Angorrah proper?”
“I might as well,” she laughed, although Aya thought it had a bitter edge to it, “I’ve spent over a decade of my life there.”
Aya sat and digested that for a few moments, before risking a further question.
“But it wasn’t always like that, was it? You lived somewhere else?”
“Yes, I did,” Lillian sighed, but said no more.
“I’ve lived in the city all my life,” Niche offered instead, “with my family. We’ve never known anything but the silver city for our entire lives. Both of my grandfather’s lines, as far as I could trace them, stay within its walls.”
“Would you mind… telling me about it?” Aya said, “I mean, we’re going there. But no one’s bothered to explain what it’s really like. Neither Sorore or Frare talk about it much either.”
“It’s the most beautiful city in the world,” said Niche instantly with absolute conviction.
“Anything else?” Aya said, looking rather unimpressed.
“It’s a- it’s difficult to explain,” said Niche, “the city is split in half.”
She vigorously nodded, hoping that this wouldn’t be the end of the details.
“It’s a city which…” he said, grasping at the words he was failing to find, “you really can’t- it’s something you have to actually see before it can be described.”
“Neither of us are poets, and besides, you’ll be in Angorrah soon enough,” said Lillian, “I can try though, however dry it might be. The city is split into two, like Niche said. On the upper half, the edges of the tributaries of the rivers form a bank where the old buildings sit. You’ll find the ecclesial courts, the palace of purity, and the chief garrison of the path of strength.”
She hovered her hands at different levels to illustrate the relative heights of the city districts.
“There’s a great sandstone cliff, with many small waterfalls coursing down. There’s a path that winds a way up under them - we used to walk them everyday as part of our training, then as part of our patrols. The names of all the founders of Angorrah, and many of the heroes that fought against the crown are etched into the cliff face. Of course, most travellers use the iron elevators that were built nearly a century ago.”
Aya already felt the numbing terror beginning to be forgotten almost, and she encouraged Lillian to continue.
“The lower half represents the majority of the city, both in terms of population and size,” she said, her fingers circling out to represent the relative immensity of this area, “layers upon layers of districts criss-crossed by roads and studded with alleys. It’s quite a lot to figure out.”
“They throw you off the deep end when they’re teaching you to patrol,” Niche said, “I remember just how lost you were the first couple times. Remember when you couldn’t figure out which dock you were at, and the sign was right next to you?”
“It was half-fallen off!” Lillian protested, her ears beginning to flush, “and the paint was practically gone, how was I supposed to realise-”
Aya was just about to ask the question of where she would be staying, when she saw a sharp motion in her periphery. Sorore sat bolt upright, staying at the remains of a leaf brought up to a narrow sliver of sunlight. There was a curious interplay within her expression, fear, excitement, and triumph merging together in the green of her eyes.
By the time that the paladins had turned, she was gesticulating wildly, saying that she had found something. Aya had barely any time to wonder before she’d taken off, leading them around the corner of the church. Apparently what she sought was not there, for she took them into the church and down through the door into the earth.
At the end, before a wall of black stone, they found Efrain with his cat companion. He was holding a black knife, glittering in the gloomy light he’d cast. He turned as Sorore approached him, telling him that she understood what to do. Aya watched as, after a few further questions, he handed her the knife, which dissolved into a liquid in the girl’s palm.
With bated breath, Aya stared as the fluid metal branched out to form a new shape. She realised, with no small amount of envy, that the girl was using magic just as she had. The construction would’ve been a beautiful thing to watch if not for the deathly cold that permeated the catacombs. Aya felt like she could lay down and simply die here if she wasn’t careful.
When it was done, Sorore handed the knife back to Efrain, now solid, which he placed against the stones. They were promptly steered away as he told the Paladins to remove them from whatever lurked behind the door. The party was up the steps and walking past the beds, Frare whispering some consultations to the obviously upset Sorore when they heard the sound.
A long, distant wail, half-lost among the tombs.
Sorore took off running, managing to rend herself free of the paladin’s grip. By the time they managed to catch up, she was at the stairs, taking them two at a time, going deeper and deeper into the earth. The paladins were ahead of Aya with their longer strides, pounding down on the sands as she saw that the passage had changed.
In the distance, past where the black stone wall had been, there was a far distance light, barely visible in the dark. The cold had deepened even further, becoming something hateful to life itself. They were almost to the edge of the hallway, and within moments, they’d passed out through the door and into this new hidden place.
More stones, more elegantly laid and carved, more beds, these ones with carved reliefs of ancient men. Intricate pillars and vaulted ceilings rushed past as they pushed deeper and deeper into the tomb. Aya nearly fell over more than once in the gloom, even as the light grew closer and closer to them.
The paladins finally caught up to Sorore just before the opening to that little light, catching her by the arms and lifting her off her feet. As she struggled, Aya made it past her, finding Frare to her side and a great expanse before her. She caught a brief glance of the gaunt form of the mage, and something large and misshapen beyond him.
Then the scene exploded into light and heat as fire leapt from up and around them.
Her last sight, other than the inferno that rose like a flaming curtain was that of the mage, his black clothes now glittering a dark crimson. In silence, he regarded them, and Aya realised for the first time how empty his eyes were. The twin pits of blackness betrayed nothing about the man behind the mask, no sardonic warmth or cultivated intelligence.
She was carted away from the frightful sight, and back up the hall at a prodigious pace. The paladins had simply slung them over their shoulders and fled. Harder the gauntlets dug to her back, as the catacombs behind them went from darkness to a dull red. The children were not given rest or respite, only carried onwards, through the tombs, up the stairs, to burst out onto the church landing and through the door.
Several of the peasants in the church started and turned at their sudden reemergence. Aya staggered over to the wall, heaving as she tried to sooth her aching chest. The twins were much the same, Sorore fully bent over and wheezing with effort. However, before any of them could settle, they were steered roughly towards the small alcove of the medical bay.
The sights of the swords in hand sent the watching group into alarmed chatter. This was only compounded as Lillian and Niche took up positions from within the door they’d just come through. Moments later, there came the sound of the groaning of wood and stone as they began to shift and strain.
Worse still was the sight of red light from beneath the door and seeping through the joints of the stones. The air began to haze and billow, a hot breeze rushing past them. The door bursting into flame was enough to send some of the frightened defenders running for the church-front. Knights were beginning to gather, pointing and exclaiming their confusion at this new, mysterious threat.
“What is it? What have you done?” called Damafelce, starring in horror at the burning door.
Lillian didn’t even bother to answer, just squared her shoulders and gripped her sword tighter.
Whatever animosity between the two women vanished as Damafelce drew and stood beside Lillian. Sweat began to pool and drip despite the unnatural chill of the fog.
Doubt began to creep into Aya’s heart - perhaps she had indeed been wrong, and perhaps the wisdom and experience of the Paladins had steered them right. The brilliant flames and empty eyes had left their impression upon her. All her interactions with Efrain seemed to be cast in a new light, each comment taking on a sinister cast.
The stones were beginning to glow in their own right, cracking and popping as the mortar disintegrated. A child couldn’t take it anymore and began to scream. It brought to mind the previous evening, the impaling claw lifting the boy into the air. Fear mixed with what must’ve been resolution within Aya ,and she managed to bring herself to lay a hand on a child’s sleeve.
They all looked at her, eyes wide, many brimmed with tears, having already seen far too much.
“It’ll be alright,” she said, squeezing the arm of a girl, “we’ll make it. They’ll protect us.”
There were some sparse nods and hopeful murmurs, but Aya could tell that some of the older ones didn’t believe it.
The stones were now a yellowish orange, and Aya was concerned that they might begin to melt and run like candle wax. The charm of the stones, their strength that almost seemed more akin to a confidence, was now utterly forgotten. The air within grew almost uncomfortably hot, villagers and knights alike holding their breath as they waited for whatever horror was going to emerge.
They waited, and waited, and waited.
The stones were still glowing, but it seemed whatever had come up from the deep had moved on and up. Slowly they faded from yellow, to orange, to red, and by the time they were brown, the peasants were turning to the paladins for guidance. Last to relax was Lillian, though it was only enough to see her sword tip faltered slightly.
“It’s moved to the roof,” she barely managed, such was the tension she held in her jaw.
Damafelce turned to remark, or perhaps to ask a question of the paladin about what she had just witnessed. She didn’t even open her mouth before a long chime echoed through the cooling air. She, along with the rest of her knights turned and rushed for the front doors.
Out from the pan and into the fire - another attack had begun.
Lillian and Niche looked at each other and then at the children, all three watching the stones resume their usual black.
“Mage or monsters?” said Niche, “which first?”
“Stay near the children until I get a better idea of what’s happening,” Lillian said, following the group of knights past the barricade.
Not long after she’d vanished into the night, a group of men burst through the charred door, partially taking what was left off its hinges. Doused in sweat, but otherwise unburnt, they stumbled into the mainstay of the church, and gesticulated wildly all around. When their glances fell on Niche, they began to beseech him, telling him of the living fire that had emerged onto the roof.
Niche picked up one of them that had fallen to the ground in haste or shock, shaking him, trying to get him to elaborate. Stories tumbled out of them of a great inferno, perhaps in the shape of a beast, perhaps not, that emerged, nay erupted, nay crawled from the tower stairs. At the heart of it was a black figure, one of the creatures, no, something horrible, no, the mage!
Niche’s eyes narrowed as he tried to parse some coherent meaning from the disparate stories. In the midst of the confusion, Aya took a half step toward the tower, terror, resolution, and a faint curiosity fighting with each other. Her foot pressed to the floor, and everything around her fell into a crystal clarity.
Bellows of command, clashes of claw and sword, the screams of men and beast, the whimpers of the frightened children. Every line on the stone, every bead of sweat and glance of eye, the smell of sweat and blood, the icy chill and the still-warm air. Everything, everywhere, at all once, clarion and present.
And beyond that, above them, something overshadowing them all, gathering, building itself. A wall of something, fulgent and hot, frothing and bearing down like a river breaking a log dam. Instinct drove her down to the cool stones, flattening her body and covering her head.
Behind her closed eyes, the darkness flipped to bright red, accompanied by a roar so great it became her. The entire building was shaking so violently she was sure she would be thrown out the front doors and to the slavering monsters. Heat rolled over her, smothering her like a quilt, driving away even the terrible chill. When she opened her eyes, she found soldiers, peasants and paladins on the ground, rolling and struggling to stand back up amid a floor of barricade splinters and glass shards.
The heat was reaching unbearable levels, driving Aya up and out, past the barricades in a mad scramble. Stumbling out into the comparatively cooler night, she looked up past the door and roof edge. Above the church extended a halo of fire, blooming outward like the bows of a mighty tree.
The branches fell to the earth, streaming sparks and embers into the evening as they furled across the remaining gardens, destroying all it touched. Most of the men had noticed the source of the heat and light, and were scrambling away desperately. The monsters, apparently having no such presence of mind, drove themselves further, and into the incinerating light.
The darkness came alive with the final screams of the things as they were burnt to ash. The human defenders were left mostly untouched, and the tide spilling over the outer wall were subsumed in the inferno. Aya slumped to the ground, witnessing this miraculous occurrence, not minding the cuts on her hands or knees.
“What…?” she said, watching the fires begin to wink out.
With that, she turned back, leaving the battle and its remnants all behind her. Through the barricades, through the aisle, through the clumsy grab by a still dazed Niche, through the door, up the melted stairs and out onto the roof.
There, across from the exit, lay a pair of slumped figures against the far wall. The mage was crumpled, motionless, saggy robes no longer cutting his trim figure. In his lap laid Innialysia, fur now merely coal black, no longer aglow as it had been.
On the railing of the roof, above the two, stood something faint in the light from the fire below. A shimmering, hazy outline, of a girl, looking down at them. As Aya drew to look at her, she could’ve sworn that the spirit was smiling as it began to fragment and dissipate. With a final gust of the warm breeze, the shimmering remnants were carried out to fade into the now clear stars.
[←Chapter 49] [Cover Art] [My Links] [Index] [Discord] [Subreddit] [Chapter 51→]

This is the best tl;dr I could make, original reduced by 58%. (I'm a bot)

Emmanuel Macron is to make a diplomatic push to reassure central and eastern European countries that France understands that the continent's security environment has been permanently changed by Russia's invasion of Ukraine.
Macron has often been viewed with suspicion across eastern Europe, especially in Poland, as someone who sees Russia as ultimately part of Europe's security architecture and wants to use the war in Ukraine to boost European defence autonomy in a way that loosens Europe's security ties to the US. In a speech to a security forum in the Slovakian capital, Bratislava, on Wednesday, Macron will call for a "Strategic awakening" and highlight the work France has done to protect Nato's eastern flank, including posting 1,250 French troops in Romania and 300 in Estonia.
The official accused Russia of "Laying down its abusive demands in the draft treaties of late 2021, where Russia proposed nothing short of the full decoupling of European American security, the neutralisation of Ukraine and organising the vulnerability of the states neighbouring Russia - all claims which cannot be accepted."
Macron is expected to warn of a deep and steady erosion of European strategic stability due to Russia's successive withdrawals from nuclear arms control treaties, as well as the recent stationing of Russian tactical nuclear weapons in Belarus in defiance of the bargain struck in 1997.
French sources said this showed how Macron does not insist that stronger European defence capabilities are solely structured around the EU. The meeting in Moldova of the new European Political Community, a Macron brainchild, will gather 47 European leaders from inside and outside the EU including Turkey.
The Élysée predicted that the family photo of so many European leaders showing their solidarity with two EU accession applicants - Ukraine and Moldova - would send a clear message to Russia.

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Chapter 2 - A New Arrival
Northern Facility, Vanstead Dukedom of Augustein, Year 985
The girl was a little taller than Amara and had short, silky dark hair that bounced whenever she moved her head. It gleamed in the torchlight with a blue-ish tint. Her dark eyes stood out against her pale skin, and when those eyes scanned across the cell, taking in its interior, Amara was struck by how lively they looked.
After the guards had left and the cell door swung shut again, the girl had stepped forward and spoken in a voice louder than Amara had heard in a long time.
Her name, she announced, was Edith.
—
“How old’re you?”
Amara slowly turned her head to face the girl. Edith stood right in front of her with her arms crossed, staring down at Amara. She blinked owlishly.
“I don’t know,” she said. Her voice came out raspy and hoarse, like she’d forgotten how to make words.
Edith frowned. “Well, I think I’m older than you,” she said with a huff. She jabbed a thumb at herself. “That means I’m in charge!”
Amara just stared at her. Edith stayed silent, perhaps waiting for a response. When none came, she sighed and plopped down right next to Amara, shivering slightly when she touched the cold stone floor. Amara flinched away on instinct, not liking this strange girl invading her space. Edith, however, didn’t seem to notice, because she just kept talking.
“Susie says you’ve been here the longest. That true?”
Amara thought briefly of James, his curled form that had once been a constant in the corner of the cell. Other faces flashed in her mind, faces that had quickly grown blurred with time. Their features blended together into a strange amalgamation that didn’t look quite human. She nodded slowly, and her own hair, limp and not at all like Edith’s, fell across her face.
“Yeah.”
“Which means you’ve had a lot of sessions.”
“I guess.”
“So you know the most about the experiments,” Edith persisted.
“Not that much.”
Edith rolled her eyes and huffed. “Susie was right, you’re hard to talk to,” she muttered.
The cold feeling rose sharply, and she shoved down. She swallowed. She knew she didn’t really speak to the other kids, but she never thought that they might talk about her. That Susie, with her pretty bright hair, would find her hard to approach. Amara scanned her mind, but she couldn’t recall Susie ever speaking with her before. Had she tried, and Amara just hadn’t noticed it?
Edith was quiet for a few moments, those expressive eyes silently studying Amara. Finally, she coughed.
“Uh, people used to say that about me, too, except they called me bossy,” she said with a scowl. She shifted, adjusting her position on the floor.
Amara vaguely realized that Edith, this strange girl who’d started talking to her out of the blue, was trying to comfort her. She didn’t know how to respond to that, so she just said, “Oh.”
Edith nodded vigorously. “Yeah, there’s this one boy, he thinks he’s all that just ‘cause his great uncle used to be a Raymoth guard, and he’s always acting like he’s so much better than us. But he kept saying it was my fault, acting like he wasn’t the real problem, and—”
Edith continued speaking, gesturing with increasingly wild movements. Throughout her story, which spiraled longer and longer and quickly jumped between various unrelated topics, Amara listened silently.
—
The other kids loved Edith. That didn’t really surprise Amara, but she was surprised at just how quickly they grew attached to the girl.
Susie had found a new “Ellie” in her. The younger kids all crowded around her, following Edith around like little ducklings. Ben, who’d gone nearly entirely silent after those first few months of crying, finally started speaking again.
It was as if the entire cell woke up from a long, deep slumber. Amara had never seen so many people moving around before, and never had it been so loud with chatter. She’d often glance outside the cell doors, but the guards never said anything about the noise. That didn’t stop her from watching them just in case.
Edith liked to talk about herself, and as a result Amara found herself learning more about the girl’s life than she knew about her own. She was from Vanstead, she said, and her mother was a “super cool watchman” who she emphasized would definitely come and save them all. She was planning on moving to Helisturn, the capital, one day, where she’d join the Academy and become an officer, join a duke’s personal guard, or maybe become a Rose. She hesitated a bit on the latter section and ended up backtracking, amending her earlier statement and saying she’d rather not serve the Raymoths. Not when the Sovereign was the reason they were there.
She claimed to know all about the world outside because she’d traveled a lot with her mother. She even made guesses about which dukedom all the kids had come from, which was an especially popular subject for the majority of the cell who didn’t remember their birthplaces. For Amara, she suggested Chaunton, a word that had no meaning to her.
It was easy to get swept up in Edith’s energy. Even though Amara was sure they all knew her stories were probably as much fantasy as truth, it was nice to hear someone talk so openly and with so much passion. It was even fun to play along, sometimes. For reasons unknown to Amara, Edith often spoke to her, even encouraging her to join in on her stories. Maybe it was because they were the closest in age, or maybe the girl had made it a personal challenge to get Amara to talk more. That seemed like something she would do. Amara found she didn’t mind it as much as she thought she would.
Still, even as Amara watched Edith talk, the sway of her hair that somehow still retained its shine, she couldn’t help but dread the day that energy inevitably fizzled out. She scanned the other kids, enraptured by a tale of Edith’s mother fighting a rank C Aberration all by herself, eyes shining in a way she hadn’t seen in years, and hoped that day was far away.
—
“Hey, Amara?”
Amara looked up at Edith from where she’d been inspecting her latest array of bandages. She quickly realized that the girl was staring at her arm as well, dark eyes fixed on the stark white bandages layered and wrapped so thoroughly that they hid almost all of her skin. Edith swallowed and shifted her weight.
“Um, what really…happens during sessions?”
Amara frowned, and she sat up fully. “You have one soon?”
Edith shrugged. “I mean, probably? I’ve already been here a week, so it’s bound to be coming, right?” She shuddered and scooted a little closer. Amara let her. “I just… I just want to be prepared, is all.”
“It’s gonna hurt a lot,” Amara said bluntly.
Edith scowled. “Not helpful.”
Amara stared at the ground again, tracing some of the cracks in the floor with her finger. The amount of them had grown slowly but surely, creating a chained network of lines along the ground that Amara had always thought was an improvement from the unbroken, unending grey.
“They’ll probably take blood samples and do some basic tests. I think they do different things with every kid though.”
Edith was quiet. A brief silence engulfed the two of them, and Amara shifted uncomfortably. After the liveliness of the past week, it felt especially wrong.
“How many people don’t come back from the first session?” Edith suddenly asked. Her voice was tight, and she didn’t look up as she spoke. Amara noted the way her hands tightened their grip around her arms, trembling barely perceptibly.
Amara closed her eyes, thinking back through the years. Earlier on, when she’d first been taken in, more kids were brought in at once, which made the disappearances stick out all the more. The number of new arrivals had trickled down with time, but the percentage who made it out of the first session hadn’t really changed that much.
“A lot of people don’t,” she said truthfully. It didn’t feel right to lie. She opened her eyes. “I think maybe half never come back, and then out of the ones who do, another half end up dying overnight.”
Dying. It felt odd to say it out loud. All of them knew that’s what happened, but it had become customary to call them “disappearances” instead. Maybe at first it was not to scare the youngest kids, but it had soon grown into a way to help them deal with the truth. Saying it again felt like she was breaking an unspoken agreement, shifting a delicate balance, and so Amara kept talking to avoid thinking about it.
She spoke about the people she’d seen, about the different types of scars and wounds and how she could tell when someone would make it and when someone wouldn’t. The longer she talked, the more surprised she was at how much she remembered, and the more she started to wish that she didn’t.
Throughout it all, Edith stayed silent, more quiet than Amara had ever seen her, and listened with eyes glued to Amara. By the time Amara was finished, her throat felt like it was on fire. She swallowed, attempting to fix the dryness, and her shoulders slumped back down.
“That’s all I know,” she said, barely above a whisper. Edith kept staring at her, and Amara wished she would say something, anything, to break the silence.
Finally, the girl leaned closer, and Amara couldn’t recognize the mix of emotions in the girl’s features as she spoke in a surprisingly steady voice.
“Do you think I’ll make it?”
And Amara stared at her, those gleaming eyes and the proud tilt of her head, and spoke truthfully.
“Yeah. I think you will.”
—
People reacted to pain in different ways. That was a fact Amara suspected was true everywhere, but it was different to see it so easily laid out within the confines of the facility.
Some sobbed uncontrollably. They became inconsolable, often shrinking in on themselves, gripping their skin tightly as if that pressure could ease the wounds. Those ones usually didn’t last long in the facility. The worst case Amara had seen was a young boy—she hadn’t even known his name—who kept hitting his head against the wall when he’d been thrown back into the cell. Some of the older kids had tried to pull him away, but he scratched and fought them off with a ferocity that their tired bodies couldn’t match. Eventually one of the guards had dragged him, kicking and screaming, away. He never returned.
Others shut in on themselves. Some did it completely, refusing to communicate or acknowledge their surroundings at all while they struggled to process. They became little more than limp dolls, trapped in a prison of their own mind until they either broke out of it or died there.
Others only shut down part way, still gaining that distant look in their eyes, but managing to respond and react to things. That was the category Edith fell into.
The moment she stumbled back into the cell, the girl retreated to the back. She hugged her knees and stared at the wall, lowering her head and refusing to talk to anyone even as her whole body shook. Amara could see fresh bandages covering her arms and lingering violet markings that were quickly fading. Susie got up and tried to talk to her, but Edith snapped for her to go away. No matter how many times someone approached her, she refused to move or look them in the eye, adamantly staying where she was even when night fell.
Amara stayed awake, watching Edith’s trembling form even as the other kids fell asleep. The constant cold feeling in her gut rose, barely pulled back from boiling. Finally, once the sounds of breathing had evened around her and only Edith’s sharp gasps and occasional whimpers punctuated the darkness, she quietly got up and moved to where Edith was.
The other girl froze slightly as she approached, muscles tensing, but Amara didn’t say anything. She simply sat down next to Edith, not saying a word, and stayed there.
At some point, the tension drained away and the shaking began to slow down as exhaustion overtook all other emotions. Amara understood the feeling well. Still, even when Edith began to tip forward slightly, head drooping with sleep, Amara stayed awake throughout the night.
When morning finally came, Edith slowly raised her head and finally looked over at Amara. Her eyes were puffy and red, making her large irises stand out even more. Her arms still shook slightly, and her hair had lost its shine. She smiled tiredly.
“I’m still here,” she said, voice raspy and hoarse.
Amara smiled back. “You’re still here.”
​
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Royal Road Patreon

My wife Cheryl has been on the waiting list for a new heart for about two years, so when we got the call, we didn’t hesitate to load up the car and get prepped. This was the miracle we were waiting for. The one that doctors told us not to get our hopes up for.
The donor was a trucker from across state lines, someone who was in the wrong place at the wrong time with an 18 wheeler. His family insisted that having his heart used for a life saving surgery would be exactly what he would have wanted.
Cheryl was already in her hospital gown before we even reached the surgical center. I remember squeezing her hand and we prayed together. This felt like a miracle.
We didn’t know it was about to become a nightmare.
Her brother Max came and brought his two Nintendo Switches with an extra set of controllers to keep us occupied while in the waiting room. We played Mario Kart for about 20 minutes when the first incident happened.
This hospital is pretty small, so all of the procedures happen in the same ward; including labor and delivery. We were just on the 3rd course of the game when a strange alarm started to blare in the hallway next to us and I jumped up, wondering what was going on.
I thought at first it might be that someone was trying to take a baby from the nursery, foolishly forgetting that the staff put bands on their legs. Instead when I walked into the next set of double doors I saw a woman frozen in place with a surgical knife in her left hand, and a baby in her right. It looked like they had just come out of the procedure room and had just cut the umbilical cord. The baby was crying, bleeding a tad from their belly button. But the nurse was simply standing there, as though she had just forgotten what she was doing.
“Miss… miss are you okay?” I asked, trying to shake her arm. She felt ice cold. I then turned and looked toward some of the other staff members and realized they too seemed suddenly paralyzed. Phones were dangling off the hook. Orderlies had stopped pushing one woman midway down the hall. Everything was suspended for no apparent reason. I walked back out of the ward and told Max to call the police.
“Somethings up, like everyone has had a stroke or something,” I muttered to him.
He nodded and moved toward the elevator, trying to get it to come to our floor.
Suddenly there was a power surge. The lights flickered briefly and Max too seemed frozen. I ran to his side where he was now stuck in place, pressing the button for the elevator.
I started to panic as I moved from room to room, trying to get someone’s help. Why was I not being affected I wondered as I pounded on the double doors to the surgical unit. An orderly in scrubs came to my aid.
“Sir, you need to wait,” he said stiffly.
“No you don’t understand, there’s something happening out here. I need to be sure my wife is okay,” I said. I pushed past him before he could object and started shouting Cheryl’s name.
My heart was pounding as I reached the first operating room and burst in without authorization. As much as I was expecting the nightmare to get worse, it was still uncanny to see this group of surgeons now seemingly unable to make any decision at all as their patient was bleeding out before my eyes.
I turned back toward the orderly that was not affected and asked, “Do you have any idea what this might be?”
“I don’t know. Never seen anything like it,” he admitted as he ran to a red phone on the wall to try and call for help.
I moved to the next room but found it locked. On the other side I could see my Cheryl, just being put under anesthesia.
The surgeons started to gather their instruments and I shouted to try and get their attention. Another power surge occurred and I closed my eyes, scared I would be next.
I could feel my head vibrating as I turned toward the orderly and asked if he had made contact with anyone. But he was on the floor, shaking violently. I reached for the phone and tried to dial, only to find that white noise was coming from the receiver.
I stumbled back to the OR that Cheryl was in and shouted hysterically. The surgeons had just begun to cut into her chest when this strange affliction hit them. They were frozen in place with my wife’s chest open, blood pouring out non stop as I heard the machine reach a flatline.
I slammed on the door in desperation, not wanting to lose her. But it was pointless. The decision had been made for me.
I collapsed in a heap of tears, shaking as I tried to understand what was happening. Was this a virus? A terrorist attack? I had no clue.
Then beyond the hospital walls I heard car alarms. The sound of screeching tires.
I managed to pick myself up and move toward a window to see what was happening.
18 wheelers careening out of control. I even saw a helicopter falling from the sky. It burst into flame in the hospital parking lot as I realized that whatever had happened here, was now suddenly spreading.
I stood there a moment longer, watching the destruction play out. Then the power went out again and I lost consciousness. My own free will taken from me.
When I woke up, a day had passed. The news reported nothing about the strange event. It was as if it had never happened and the deaths and destruction were ignored.
Except I know that my wife died on the operating table.
That can’t be erased. I don’t know what strange event happened here but it scares me to death it might happen again. The loss of will, spreading and destroying more lives.
What if soon we have no free will at all?
I can’t think of anything more terrifying.