#( hes bursting to tell how he got a limited addition item )

[concussed-to-pieces]

To Tell You The Truth Part One

Fandom: Prospect [2018]

Pairing: Eventual Ezra/Prospector!Reader

Rating: Holy shit M.

AN: Hello everyone, and welcome! I present a new indulgence, as I am a simple man subject to the whim of my hyperfixations. I hope that you all will enjoy this tale, though I warn it will be a tad less carefree. Darker subject matter will be tread in this series. But! My indulgences will shine through regardless, and my trigger warnings will be at the beginning of each installment. If you're interested in reading more of my attempted writing involving a space Pedro, I will direct you to Stay Safe, my completed Mandalorian fic. Enjoy!

Tag List: @huliabitch @renegademustelid @wrestlingfae @zombiexbody @sporadic-fics @rzrcrst

[!TRIGGER WARNING!: This installment contains allusions to previous abuse. Stay safe!]

You ran.

The thrower knocked against your leg as you fled, almost tripping you numerous times. You couldn't bring yourself to fix it, though.

You didn't stop, even when your ribs started to ache and your vision went patchy. The pod is just in the next clearing, you kept telling yourself, the next clearing for certain. Once you were inside it, you could…

It had no lock. Damon hadn't deemed it necessary. Maybe...maybe that other man just wouldn't find you. The one that Damon had shot and tried to thieve everything from. How could he have believed that his greed would go unchecked?! Those two men had clearly been slaving in the Bakhroma Green for ages. Months at a bare minimum. Now one of them was dead, and the other had been wounded by Damon before your oh-so-illustrious companion had succumbed to the injuries inflicted by that railgun. 

You had been involved in dig disputes before, of course, but you were hard-pressed to think of a time where one had been settled with such...messy finality. 

You entered the pod with a gasp of relief, jerking your helmet off to breathe the comfortingly stale air. You dropped the thrower by the door, unable to bring yourself to even think about using it. 

Damon was dead. 

You pressed your hands to your temples and sank to the floor. The man who had bullied, browbeat and press-ganged you into this remote locale, was dead. And you…

You had no idea how to urge this pod back up past the thick canopy. You were a digger. Digging was what you were good at. It was what you knew. You were not a pilot.

Despair took hold then, as you realized you were truly trapped. Precious seconds ticked by while you laid there on the floor, a curled-up ball of miserable floater. There were three cycles left before there would be no escape, before the freighter slingback would be entirely inaccessible.

You dragged yourself out of your funk eventually, doing your best to wipe your face clean of all your tears. You could figure this out. All Damon had been good for was flying, right? You would inventory the supplies and see how many days you could eke out. Maybe you could reach someone on the long range. 

...

The sorting and cataloging work kept you busy. Which was good. You liked busy. Busy limited headspace. Busy kept people alive on digs. 

It was a little warm inside the pod once the sunlight started beating down on it. You wiped your sweat off with your forearm for the millionth time, flipping through your notes. If you were cautious about certain resources and supplements, you might be able to last two months down on the Green moon. But that was only if your filters continued to hold recharges. Uncharitably, you wished you had taken Damon's before you bolted. 

There was nothing for it. You would just have to make it back to the freighter in time. Two stands of miserable living would do you no good if you were still on this moon. Judging from the thickness of the pollen in the air, the plant life would be noxious. You wouldn't survive without your filters.

You leafed through the radio manual, flipping the power switch and grimacing at the burst of static that greeted your ears through the Arcsoko long range headset. "To anyone listening, this is Dasha Landcraft Rental, parcel-class, pod number-" you paused, fumbling through to the back of the manual for the number scrawled there by the company. "Number...eight-eight-three-nine-seven-five dash-zero-zero--" you stopped to inhale, "-two-seven-four-two. We have landed off course. I repeat, we are off target in the Green. Pilot lost." Your voice started to shake. "P-Pilot lost. If a-anyone is within range, please respond."

You flipped the switch on the signal amp and then pushed the looper, setting the message to repeat broadcasting for an hour. It would be a varying amount of expenditure on your chit for every additional hour you wanted to keep your transmission on the air, and you didn't exactly have money to throw around, so all you could hope was that someone would hear your distress message within the first free hour. 

You kept the headset on, rocking back and forth in your chair as the minutes ticked down. A few times there were bursts of static that sounded like someone was about to come on air, but they peaked as fast as they arrived. 

Hope faded the longer you sat there, sorting and stacking the brightly-colored Calori-pouches of Pastors Henry slurry. You staunchly ignored the way your lower lip was quivering. Damon hated it when you cried.

Within the last few precious minutes of your free broadcast, a noise outside sent your heart into your throat. You yanked off the headphones, scrambling for the nav console. The wall of bulky, jutting screens was the first thing you could seriously consider cover, but it was only once you'd tucked yourself beneath it that you remembered you had left the thrower by the door. 

You started forward to grab it, but ended up just lowering your body closer to the floor as the noises advanced, footsteps you realized. So he had found you. He would certainly kill you if only for what your partner had done. It had been careless of you to start your broadcast so soon after returning to the pod. You had essentially beamed out a homing signal to your exact location. 

For an hour.

This was it. Cowering in a rented pod, weapon feet away, clutching an itemized list of all the things to eat and drink. A fitting end, for a timid dust-scratcher like yourself.

I will not cry or beg, you told yourself sternly. It would do no good here. It was better to face your demise with some shred of dignity, and Damon had just gotten more angry when you cried. 

The hatch hissed loudly and you somehow made yourself even smaller while that man, the talkative one, lurched up into the pod. He stumbled, fighting with the latches on his helmet for a good ten seconds before finally managing to get the thing off, thus affording you a clear view at his face.

He didn't look particularly cruel, or Brism-busted like Damon had. Mainly, he just looked tired and dirty. He had a head of shaggy brown hair, olive skin and deep-set brown eyes. His nose was hawklike, prominent even alongside that heavy brow and the square jut of his scruffy jaw. When he turned his head, you spotted a curious chunk of blond hair that grew determinedly out at a different angle from the right side of his hairline, Mallen streak, your brain supplied oh-so-helpfully. An old scar, silver with age, meandered along his left cheekbone, and a halfway-maintained mustache shielded his upper lip.

His eyes roamed the pod curiously for a moment, taking in all the notes you had tacked to the walls in your inventory sweep. He absolutely noticed the thrower abandoned by the door. 

"This is a vexsome position that your friend Damon has put you into, I'm afraid." He drawled, his pistol loose at his side while he slowly rotated. "I will not apologize for my hand in his death, as he wounded myself, razed my associate and was planning to abscond with several stands worth of my hard work. His greed outplayed his hand."

Dark eyes landed on you, curled up against the wall beneath the console screens, and the smile that bloomed under his mustache was decidedly predatory. 

"I'm...I have food." You began to bargain shakily. 

"You certainly do, don't you?" He crooned in a patronizing tone, the thrower pistol humming as he primed it. 

"I'm a good digger. Th-That's the only reason Damon dragged me here." You cringed when he took a step towards you. "P-Please, I didn't-"

"I have no doubt that whatever it was, you surely didn't. You could have picked me off easily out there had you wanted to, plenty of range on that thrower. What is a gentle soul like you doing with a character that had such a predisposition for marauderous pilferin', I wonder?" The man mused, his expression cheery to an unsettling degree. The grip he had on the pistol didn't waver an inch.

"He promised I-I would be able to finally quit with the points this planet would make." Why bother lying? This man would just kill you anyway. "B-But the pod, it...something happened during the landing. A malfunction, I'm not sure."

"Ah, so your friend Damon was the Ahab of this vessel as well. No surprise there, that steadfast moral compass of his must have seen you two just flawlessly across the vacuous expanse." 

Your lower lip began to quiver again and you dug around in your suit pockets for the lone gem that you had uncovered on your trek earlier. "I don't...I don't have anything to offer aside from the supplies and this. But...p-please, I just…" 

Your sketchbook tumbled out of your pocket as you removed the gem. The barrel of his gun grazed the side of your head in obvious response to the action and you froze in terror. "You keep those hands where I can see them, gentle soul. I am not in a gaming mood at the mo…" His words trailed off when he caught sight of the massive pearl cradled in your palms. "Well well, it seems you've got a bit of bargaining power yet." 

"I don't need much food, I p-promise." You had told yourself you wouldn't beg, but this seemed...very close to begging. "J-Just water and a pilot." You extended the aurelac, knowing full well that you were surrendering your ability to go home. That miserable rock would have paid for the lease on the pod and passage back to the Pug at the bare minimum. Which you had pointed out to Damon, but he insisted on trekking further. You found yourself agreeing wholeheartedly with this other man's earlier observation, his greed outplayed his hand.

"I am not overly inclined to rid this world of you, gentle soul. If I am reading the situation correct, you are not here because you wish to be." The man said after several breathless moments. He didn't seem concerned about taking the gem from you at the moment. "However, we are at a bit of a stalemate when it comes to locomotion." 

His gun dropped from the side of your head and you flinched again when he stretched out his hand towards you. "H-Here, here! Just p-please, don't-" You shoved the rock against his fingers, your eyes shut tight with anticipation. Why couldn't he just shoot you and get it over with?!

"I'm offering you a hand up, gentle soul. Squirrel away your bargaining chip for the time being." The man said, gently easing the gem aside. "I am not an unreasonable man. Let's get you up off that floor and we shall discuss terms as civilized folk do." 

"You...you're not going to kill me?" You asked weakly, daring to open your eyes.

"At this juncture? No." The man tilted his head. "Are you planning on doin' anything nefarious that may encourage my own expedient shuffle off of my mortal coil?"

You had to take a minute just to try and figure out what he'd actually said. It had been ages since you'd interacted with anyone aside from Damon, and your late 'partner' hadn't had the most expansive vocabulary. "I've never killed anyone before." You replied, your voice a whisper.

"A prudent answer, to be certain, for one never knows what the tides of fate have in store for them." He pondered for a breath, his eyes almost impossibly dark. "I'll take your word all the same, face value. You seem an honest sort, gentle soul. Makes me inclined to wonder how you got tangled up in this sorry soirée, though." His boot bumped against your sketchbook and he toed it a little closer to you, obligingly keeping his distance.

"That's not...it's not important right now." You snatched the book up and crammed it back into your pocket. Then, you floundered into one of the flight chairs, sitting sideways so you were able to maintain the barest pretense of eye contact. You clasped your trembling hands in front of you, trying to remember to keep them where he could see them.

"The terms will be as follows: we work together to get this craft airworthy once again. By my late partner's calculations, Kevva rest his soul, we've only got a few turns of twenty-four left until we're well and truly cut adrift on this forsaken Nessus." The way that he was using the term 'we' had your chest strangely tight. "I am loathe to be restricted here for the rest of my days, especially with a royal's ransom stashed in my trophy case. I doubt you wish to suffer that same perdition." 

He leaned forward and you shifted back on reflex, quickly dropping your gaze from the scar on his cheek to the floor. "I understand." You said softly. "What do you want me to do? I'm not...I don't know anything about the nav systems or engines or-"

"Gentle soul, how long had you wandered this world with that disreputable thief?" 

To your horror, you couldn't actually remember how long it had been. It was a haze of silent travel, punctuated by violent outbursts as you tried to make yourself seem even smaller than you already were-

"I did not mean to wound you, gentle soul. I offer my most sincere reparations." He apologized quietly.

"What?"

He gestured with his hand, a little slower now. "You are weepin'."

"Oh! Oh, I'm sorry." You fumbled to wipe your face off on your sleeve. "I'm alright, I'm fine." You assured him with a watery smile.

He studied you for what felt like a lifetime, those brown eyes boring into your own. "I am Ezra, gentle soul. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance." 

Ezra. That's right, he had introduced himself as such to Damon before everything had gone so incredibly wrong. "I'm sorry about what happened to your friend." You said thickly. "I didn't...I didn't want anyone to get hurt."

He waved off your words, scoffing a bit. "Number Two was a utility, not a friend. I am none too aggrieved by his loss, and I implore you not to trouble yourself with such dour ruminations on his behalf." Ezra stretched, then swiveled his head around. "What does our supply situation look like? I can see your scrawlings, naturally, but I would prefer it from the merchant's mouth."

You leafed through your notebook pages. "If we're careful, we should have enough to last one month." Split between the two of you rations were a bit harder to calculate, so you went with the safe route of halving the time evenly. "I don't know your appetite. Damon would go days without food sometimes, because of the sleep meds."

"I am ravenous at any and all opportunities, I must confess." Ezra admitted. "Been surviving off bits bars for the last four stands. Calori-paste is my damn marrow at this point in time."

"W-We still have some powdered things, tea, if...I mean can I offer you...um, some coffee?" You warily turned your back to him and started rummaging in one of the many side compartments, pulling out a tiny sealed bag of dehydrated coffee mix.

"I would be…" He paused, sounding like he was fighting for breath. It was so dramatic that you actually looked at him, a touch alarmed. "I would be forever in your debt if you would grace me with so much as a watered-down teaspoon of that heavenly beverage." He settled on one of the side benches, his pistol holstered for the time being. "We will not need rations to last the month, gentle soul, so our best option in the event of calamitous mechanical difficulties may be to take any excess off to the Saders to trade for goods."

"Saders?"

"They are a group of people that inhabit the Green. Religious settlers, tedious scavengers."

Your brow furrowed. You were no religious expert. "Like Kevvaites?" You tried.

"No no, not so much with the monotheism. They believe in the Tides of the universe. The Currents, a certain...ebb and flow of life." Ezra waved a hand to illustrate. "All very poetic, giveth and taketh kinda' sort. Not bad folk to deal with, all things considered, but voraciously against conventional arms and armaments."

You wracked your brain for any other useful items you may have stowed away from Damon, lest he pawn them to pay for his drugs of choice. After you set the hydro to churn the precious dust into coffee, you knelt and shuffled your small personal storage compartment open. "I don't have a lot to offer, I'm afraid." You murmured, tugging out a few duct tape sealed bags. "Almost all the basic hygiene items, my emergency filters...anything he could get his hands on, really. He would just trade it for more drops or Brism." You continued apologetically. 

"That man was a junkie." Ezra said bluntly. "Now, I have my own vices and I am not above reproach, but I always assured that my consumption was never at the cost of someone else's comfort." 

Your throat felt tight and you ducked your head down, avoiding eye contact. "I...I'm sorry." 

"Whyever for, gentle soul?" He asked curiously. 

"I-I shouldn't have-" You had no idea what you were apologizing for, your words dying in your throat. After so much time with Damon, you did it automatically. The hydro beeped, offering you the opportunity to bolt. Which you took immediately. "Coffee!" You announced brightly, the flimsy cardboard container that it dispensed into almost scorching your hand. You passed it off to him, warning, "Be careful, it's-" 

Ezra slugged half the scalding contents in one go, his Adam's apple bobbing convulsively. 

"-h-hot." You finished weakly.

"Kevva above, it sure is." He grunted, shuddering. "God damn, I have missed that acrid nightmare of flavor burnin' my esophagus like Satan himself. Absence truly does make the heart grow fonder." He pawed idly at his wounded arm after a moment, grimacing. "I don't suppose that Damon kept any of the usual med supplies? A field kit, maybe?" The older man queried hopefully.

You hesitated, gnawing on your lower lip. "He...didn't." You answered carefully.

Ezra looked momentarily distraught before he seemed to catch himself, his expression smoothing into something closer to weary resignation. "Well, can't say I'm surprised. They're worth good currency in a trade. Bodes poorly for the survival of my arm, however." He said glibly, the wince that followed contrasting dramatically with his unphased tone.

"Y...Your-?"

"Once the dust gets in, it don't take too long for the fester to permeate." Ezra explained. The wound on his arm oozed a sickly, yellowish fluid down the sleeve of his exosuit when he pressed his hand over it. "It wasn't originally just myself and Number Two, you understand. We had a full crawling party before the muti--" He jerked to a stop, shooting you a wary glance. "Now, gentle soul, I don't want you thinkin' that you have anythin' to fear from me. The mutiny was...a misunderstanding. You saw today what depths desperate men stoop to over a bit of aurelac."

You nodded, your throat gone dry. 

"There were...concerns voiced about equal shares, it was a Kevva-forsaken mess. I don't know how many times I've told folk to draw up their union contracts before they get boots on the ground. Nobody listens, though. It's always 'mutiny once we're planetside' this and 'we can take everything' that." He griped. "Words and metal flew and, regrettably, myself and a few others were marooned on this damnable moon." Ezra drew his hand away from his arm, that yellowed fluid clinging to his fingers in thick, pitchy strands, "We quickly found that these climes are fiendishly inhospitable to floaters in damaged suits."

Your lip felt like it was about to drop off your face from how hard you were worrying it. "I...D-Do you promise not to hurt me?" You finally asked.

Ezra gave you a look of confusion, brown eyes narrowing slightly. "Gentle soul, I thought I had made it abundantly clear that-"

"Just-! Just say yes or no." 

"Yes, dammit, but I fail to see what that's got to-"

"I h-have a kit. A f-field kit." You stammered out. His eyebrows drew together in a thunderous frown and you saw his jaw working. "Wait! Wait, just let me f-f-finish." You extended your hands in a placative gesture, your heart hammering wildly in your chest. "I...trade. I'll trade you. Nobody does anything for free, right? I'll help you, and in exchange, I want you to promise me you won't hurt me."

"What would you do if I did hurt you, gentle soul?" Ezra inquired softly. Your breath hitched. "Indeed, what would you be able to do? Especially now that I'm aware you've got a kit hidden somewhere." The man got to his feet and you immediately flinched. "Your powers of persuasion need some...refinin', but I am not immune to civility. Gentle soul, if you give me that kit not only am I willin' to work with you to get us off this moon, I'll throw a chunk of my haul your way as a show of good faith." He offered, dark eyes watching you closely. "And, I will give you my word as an individual with the slightest, infantessible modicum of moral standing, that I won't lay a finger on you fueled by dubious or malicious intent." 

You stared up at him, your mind entirely blank from panic. His strange words certainly weren't helping your comprehension. "I..." No, no, this was wrong. He was putting far too much up for his end of the bargain! He must be planning something, some sort of trick.

Ezra cocked his head. "You still with me, gentle soul?" He asked cautiously. "Don't tell me you're strokin' out, it'd be a shame to lose such pleasant company."

Your laugh was a jagged hiccup in your chest. Ezra huffed out a breath after a moment, obviously uncomfortable. He probably thought you had gone moony, entirely lunar. "I'm...I'm sorry, I...that's a good, um, deal, b-but I can't accept it." You struggled to get your words out. "Y-You…that is, I don't...I don't want…" to be like Damon. 

"Perhaps your persuasion isn't nearly as uncalibrated as I originally surmised. Very well, gentle soul. How much is my dominant arm worth to you?" Ezra queried dryly, misunderstanding your hesitation. "Because to me, as a workin' man, it's worth its weight in aurelac sixteen times over." 

You hadn't thought of it like that. You felt a bit foolish now. "Oh. Oh, I'm sorry. I...I'm sorry." 

"Kevva above, you are a tender thing. I don't mean to be so grim, but that's the harsh reality that I've been livin' with since I found myself marooned. It's a miracle I've managed this long with the meager supplies allotted to us." He said, sounding rueful. "I mourn my stomach every morning as I eat those crunchy bastard bits bars and I pray for my sufferin' to end."

You didn't mean to snort, but his colorful terminology caught you off-guard. His smile was less predatory this time, as if he hadn't expected your mirth. You knelt, burrowing even deeper into your compartment until you hit the false bottom. There, underneath several sheets of whitewashed cardboard, resided your precious field kit. You had traded the entirety of your meager share from an equally-meager haul for it stands ago, once you realized how deeply entrenched Damon was in his addiction. You had always clung to the faint hope (albeit perhaps in vain) that you might be able to escape from Damon and, if you struck out on your own, you knew you would at the very least need a good field kit as a failsafe for emergencies.

You hesitated before you tugged the box free, your fingers stroking the smooth plastic. You felt silly for the melancholic sensation that rose in your chest, it was just a field kit. You could always get another one. But it had seemed like so much more than a porta-surge. Until today, it had represented your dreams of getting out from beneath Damon's thumb. 

"Not to-" You had been so lost in thought that the unexpected sound of his voice caught you by surprise. You bolted to your feet in a rush and the top of your head met the bottom of his jaw with a bone-jarring impact. Your vision faded momentarily from the force of the blow, black dots exploding and fading out. 

The older man grunted, staggering back a step. He proceeded to sit down heavily on one of the bench seats as you held your aching head in pain. The porta-surgery box laid abandoned on the floor. You could only imagine what level of punishment you were in for now. 

"Martyr's malfeasance, gentle soul, if you try to ring my bell like that again you may do me in." He groaned hoarsely, working his jaw and tonguing the inside of his cheek. "What the fuck is your cranium comprised of?"

You didn't answer, sniffling a little bit and blinking back your tears as you scooped the field kit off the ground. You held the box out to him, your eyes focused on your boots while you struggled to keep your hiccups to a minimum; Damon hated when you would cry.

You cringed when a gloved hand rested gently on the top of your head, clumsy fingers parting your hair. What was he…? "You are goin' to have a fine bruise, gentle soul. Mercifully you didn't break skin. Guess my jawline isn't as sharp as I've been claimin'." 

Was he...was he joking with you? You dared to glance up at him and you were startled by how concerned he looked. Oh, I'm still holding the kit. You gracelessly pushed the field kit against his stomach, trying to use it to give yourself some breathing room. 

Ezra seemed to get the hint and he shifted a step back, taking the kit as he went. "Kevva, this is one of the portable surgicals. Sequestering it was the intelligent choice, gentle soul." He muttered, almost like he was speaking to himself. "I am loathe to willfully use your resources, so I shall do my best to be prudent." You could feel him looking at you again. "This is all that you have, isn't it?" He asked abruptly. "The kit, those few possessions you've already dug out of that compartment."

You just cleared your throat and avoided his searching gaze with studious intent. "You're wasting time." You whispered.

"True enough." Ezra agreed. He flopped back down on the bench and rummaged around in the box, tugging loose the tiny orange sepsis kit and the patch gun with a grimace. "Hello, old friend." He then raised his voice to address you once more, "I will be makin' a copious amount of noise presently, gentle soul."

You nodded jerkily, covering your ears and turning your head away.

Part Two

[ranmanjuu]

Hello! Sorry about the slowness of your blog, so here’s a request! How MC that can do Magic Tricks? Not Harry Houdini, but card tricks and making a coin“disappear”. Can you please do this with the Oda forces? Thank you!

ok so like,, idk what’s considered “harry houdini” magic and what’s not (from what i understand it’s illusion/escape magic [although that’d be a cool hc] so wow my ‘cut assistant in half’ idea is out the window..,,.,,. and i’m not sure if some of these are considered illusion magic or not). and also i don’t know enough about magic tricks at all and i just picked some mainstream ones and like,,,... one (1) trick that my brother could do. also i don’t have too much knowledge of how some of them work,, but here ya go:

—nobunaga:

the moment nobunaga told you to bring proof of you being from the future, of course your first thought was to get your purse. tipping the bottom up, all of its content spilled on the floor.

and while the lord was observing your phone, your own eyes landed on the card deck you brought from your last magic show. with a small grin, you picked it up, “hey nobunaga, instead of that go game let me show you something.”

he turned to you with an expectant gaze, “as long as it’s as entertaining, lucky charm.”

your grin widened, and the cards were shuffled expertly in your hands. pushing the rest of the items aside, you spread them out in front of nobunaga in a row, “pick a card, any card.”

his brows lifted at your request, but does it anyway. he pulls out one from the middle; a king of spades. “alright, now don’t show me it.” he’s a bit confused as to what you’re going to do, but he’s also intrigued. you pat the floor, gesturing him to set the card down whilst hiding it, and he does.

you tell him to pick a section to hide it in, and he picks the one near the end. the deck is shuffled again entirely, and you lay it down on the floor facing up.

“now,” you say, and nobunaga finds himself leaning closer to you, “i’ll try and pick your card out.”

he watches as your eyes sweep through each card, before pulling out a king of spades. his card.

“is this your card, ‘my lord’?”

he’s stone faced at first, then a small twinkle sparks in his eyes, “perhaps you’ll be much more entertaining that i thought. show me more, fireball.”

and now, between the ruthless games of go, you often show him the tricks you’ve learnt. it brings a sort of boyish excitement to him, and he really reminds you of your own audience.

and sometimes, he teases about you being a goddess of trickery, fishing his heart to be yours.

it’s quite adorable, to see the devil king be like that.

—hideyoshi:

the unknown and general foreign atmosphere from the castle was something you couldn’t bear most of the time. the distrust from hideyoshi, the rough personalities that were wildly different from your time—there was a limit until your soul had to take a rest.

and your escape was to the town. you were a magician, someone who entertained others. and you sure as hell weren’t going to perform for the castle! so you went to the common folks.

your bright and extroverted attitude quickly spread among mostly the youths; kids would often surround you with their hyper-energized excitement, and you’d get along nicely! you’ve started performing too, at the fields where the children play.

so each day, you’d come down from the castle with a new trick to show the kids. it’s a nice change of pace from the war.

meanwhile, hideyoshi was still very doubtful of you, and between what free time he had, you’d be gone from the castle.

however one day, he managed to trail along from a free day (one forcefully given by nobunaga). seeing you carry some suspicious items wrapped in cloth downtown didn’t settle right with him, so he hid in the shadows as you approached the main streets, and onto the place you usually perform at.

he sees you setting up some things on a table, said things still covered in cloth. a girl approaches you shyly, and you smile brightly at her. crouching down, the two of you began talking about something he couldn’t hear. and after a nod from the girl, she seemed to,,, hand you something.

uh oh, his alert is up! his hand mindlessly gripped his sword as you carried the bundle of unknown things and bellow the table. finally, it’s showtime.

more and more kids ran to your table, shouting excitedly about, “the azuchi magician is performing!”

and that couldn’t help but melt his heart, just a bit.

you were in a black and white kimono (a substitue for a tuxedo) and a hat he never seen anyone wear (top hat). he watches silently as you act out a silent performance, showing the insides of your hat empty. you pull out a black wand with a white tip (a weapon?! he thought) and tapped the hat three times. suddenly...

a rabbit jumped out! not only were the kids surprised, hideyoshi himself was gaping slightly too. were you some sort of enchanter?

as the show was over, the crowd dispersed. the white rabbit sat on the table being happily petted by you. a girl approaches you again—it’s the same as before.

you smile at her and gave a gentle pat on the head, “thank you for lending me your rabbit, tomoka! you really did help me with this one, y’know?”

the girl, tomoka, he noted, blushed lightly. “n-no. . .thanks for the performance, azuchi magician,,!”

the way you smiled, so earnestly like that to the common folk and treating them normally. . . maybe hideyoshi could start trusting you.

—mitsuhide:

most of your props were in your bag, and it was starting to cram the space inside it. so you sprinkled it around your room—it was the closest you had to decoration of your own. but it proved to be quite,,,, troublesome, so to say, for it to just lie around.

and you learnt such when you came to mitsuhide’s manor (as per his request) and finding him with all your things. all.

“so,” he began, and you fell the cold sweat creeping in, “it seems our little mouse is rather. . . noxious.”

“,,,, i can explain.”

“i’d love to hear why you have such peculiar items at your possession.” there was a smile on his face,,, but it felt like there wasn’t. you explained your future situation, and he listened in silence.

he hummed, and questioned each item you had, and you answered the best you can. most of it related to your profession, he noticed. but there was just one thing. . .

“then tell me,” he pulls out a sword, and your temperature drops a thousand degrees, “why do you have this?”

“ ,,,, i͟ c͟a͟n͟ e͟x͟p͟l͟a͟i͟n͟.”

you held the sword in your hands, all the while glancing up at the other every milisecond to see if your life wasn’t in danger. and with a burst of unknown confidence, you pulled the tip of the blade to your mouth, and proceeded to insert it deeper and deeper.

you couldn’t see mitsuhide’s reaction—you didn’t want to—as the sword got “deeper” into your throat. by the time you’re finished, if it were real, it would’ve ended by your stomach.

and slowly, you pulled it out, with a pathetic addition of, “it’s a magic trick thing too.”

your eyes absolutely refused to meet his, just opting to burn its stare into the ground. mitsuhide smirked. his suspicion was definitely there—but the innocent way you did that was just so cute.

“i’m beginning to wonder what your intentions are, shoving such a thing deep into your mouth in front of a man, in his quarters, little mouse.”

—masamune:

ever since masamune found out about your previous occupation, he’s always begged you to show them off (the more dangerous, the better). most of the time, you’ll cave in and do a really popular trick known in the community, then tell him off for a bit. it’s all in good fun, really.

but now both of you were bored, and you knew from experience in the case of the one-eyed dragon being bored, the time will only come before he wrecks absolute shit again just for the hell of it.

so you want to post-pone that, at least.

you pulled out three ceramic cups and a small gold coin, setting them on the table. his eyes were on you now, “what’re ya doin’, lass?”

you smiled with a tint of mischief, “how about we play a game?” at the mere mention of that got him to sit up with a wild grin of his own, “loser has to do what the winner says. anything they say.”

considering it’s masamune, you potentially had a lot on the line. but you were experienced enough—hopefully.

you explained the simple rules to him: you’ll put the coin underneath one of the cups, shuffle it, then he has to guess which one has it. easy peasy.

usually you’d do it slower or quicker, but again, it’s masamune. maybe he can slip a sight of what you did and if you lose, it’ll be a tiresome rest of the day.

your hands moved swiftly and expertly, shuffling between the three cups. and his eyes were trained on them like a tiger to its prey. and in the midst of all the sliding around, you passed the coin from one cup to another.

and once you were done, you set the three ceramic pieces in a row.

“pick, masa.”

his eyes were certain, full of confidence, as he pointed at the left one. a grin ripped its way to your face, when it’s revealed there’s nothing there.

his good eye widened a bit, before narrowing down in slight thrill. “ya really are a witch, lass.”

—ieyasu:

ieyasu wasn’t as expressive about his love in the public sometimes. he’d use an indirect and often contrarian way to do so—just like he did the first few times you met. and you yourself loved to give him little bouts of affection, mostly through words and the likes.

that day was a hot one, with the two of you just lazing about in his manor. you had your deck of cards on you, just shuffling them around mindlessly. as your mind wandered, you stopped as an idea surfaced.

with a small smile, you went out from the room ieyasu was in, just to write something on a card, and so he wouldn’t see. once you came back, he directed a raised eyebrow at you.

“hey ieyasu,” you call out to him casually, picking out a card from your deck. an ace of hearts, between your fingers and facing him, “wanna see some magic?”

his eyebrow rose higher, and you flip around the card between your fingers smoothly. his gaze trailed over each time you threw it up in the air, twisting your hand in mostly useless moves, and suddenly—

the card was gone from your hands. just like that.

for a moment, he was rendered speechless. the sight was adorable, really; his lips slightly parted and eyes widened just a crack.

the smile grew from your face, and just like before, you seem to materialize a card out of nowhere. without a chance to see it clearly, you put it in ieyasu’s hand facing down.

he flipped it. the ace of hearts, but on it were scribbled he words “i ♥ you"

“. . .you’re so silly, you know that?”

—mitsunari:  

as a magician, certain props were set up for a specific trick. meaning they don’t work how it normally would; but such didn’t really bother you when your habit of shuffling cards while thinking came into effect.

but mitsunari, despite not noticing most things about other people, was highly observational. with a small smile, his attention turned from your lesson, the ones he taught you in, and unto the deck in your hands.

“yesterday the back of it was blue, and now it’s red. do you own several of these?”

you paused, looking up at his lilac eyes with a small grin, “yep. wanna know why?”

the way he tilted innocently was too much to take. so you opted to distract yourself by spreading every cards facing up on the table, “this is how a normal deck looks like, right?”

“yes, as i’ve seen from you before.”

the grin on you slowly widened as you got into your magician self, collecting the cards into a neat stack. you mimic casting a spell on it, swirling your hands above it as mitsunari stared at you, mistified.

once you were done, you spread the cards down again. one major difference stuck out: all the cards were now king of diamonds. every single one.

mitsunari let out a small gasp, picking out a random card and observing it from all angles. the way he looked so serious was a bit cute—you’ll admit.

only your giggle brought him back to reality. you collected the cards again, did the hand motions, and the deck was back to normal. aside from the king of diamonds left in his hand—which was the only one from the deck, coincidentally.

“—!” he calls your name with bouts of admiration, “you’re so miraculous! perhaps you’re a goddess blessed on us.”

you waved the accidental flattery he said, but a blush still got to your cheeks.

—ranmaru:

ranmaru was quite a childish one, you figure out soon. it doesn’t take talking with him long to see the way his eyes light with such innocent, child-like wonder. he reminds you a lot of the children you often performed for—the way he saw the world was so much alike to how their eyes filled with amazement each time you went on stage.

thus, it was soon when you invited him to your room with the intention of showing your skill off to him, just to get a feel of how it was like before you got dragged into the sengoku period.

you wanted to ease him in first, so you went with a small thing.

as the conversation of mostly random topics ran about, your fiddled and flipped a coin in your hand. his eyes would sometimes trail at how your fingers could balance such a small thing so quickly, quieting his voice by astonishment.

“ranmaru, wanna see something cool?” you quickly interjected the conversation. his nods were fast, eyes ripping away from the coin and to your own.

you threw the coin up in the air, occasionally balancing the small piece of gold with the tips of your fingers. one last throw, it lands in your palm, and you shut it swiftly. he’s watching closely, dazed by your minor performance.

you opened your palm; the coin’s gone.

“—eh?!” a surprised yelp escaped him, “where did it go. . .?”

ranmaru looked up to you for answers, and you just shrug casually with a tiny smile. your hands were taken in his, his own fingers flipping it around and even patting down the sleeves of your kimono to check if it fell down there. after no luck, his eyes roamed to the floor to see if you just threw it, somehow. nothing.

slowly, his head turned back to you, with eyes so filled with stars it could be a galaxy. “—! you’re a miracle! so cool, how’d you do that?!”

you’re right, he is like the kids you perform for.

“as they say,” all you answered was to put your index finger to your lips, and send him a wink, “a magician never reveals their secret~!”

[thestarwrites]

All Right, All Might: Ch. 3

Word Count: 2,142

Rating: PG

Painting: Toshinori Yagi X FemOC

The UA Guidance Counselor, a quirk user with Pathokenesis, is shocked to find out her personal hero All Might is coming to be a teacher. The road they walk as a parallel starts to merge and there’s no telling what could happen.

CHAPTER THREE: UA HIGH SCHOOL ENTRANCE EXAM

For Patho, summer was full of being with and missing Toshinori. They had become dear friends, they texted, talked on the phone - and went out, as friends of course, in his weakened form.  Whenever he was on television, she would text him. And when he had a particularly bad fight, he would need to talk through some things.

Summer was drawing to a close, and her second year at UA, and his first, was fast approaching. Entry exams were only a week away. She had been through this once before, but wasn’t installed enough yet to be there.

And then that Saturday;

[Text: Toshinori] Hey! You’ll never guess what I’ve been doing. A smile crossed her lips.

[Text: Keri] Eating copious amounts of ice cream, even though your stomach can’t take it and it’ll make you ill?

[Text: Toshinori] No…. [Text: Toshinori] I wouldn’t do that. [Text: Toshinori] You can’t prove i’ve ever done that…

[Text:Keri] :P What have you been doing?

[Text: Toshinori] I found a successor! I’ve been training him! You’d love him.

[Text:Keri] As much as you?

[Text:Toshinori] More.

[Text:Keri] I doubt it, Tosh.

[Text:Toshinori] Do you want to meet him? He’s going to be taking the entrance exam. He cries a lot, he’s a really sensitive kid! His name is Izuku Midoriya! He’s this quirk-less kid, and he’s so brave, Ree.

[Text:Keri] I would love to meet him.

[Text:Toshinori] C: !! The three of us can meet for lunch tomorrow??? Pleeeaseee say yes!

[Text:Keri] Okay okay, don’t get all mopey like you get.

[Text:Toshinori] I have never been mopey in my life.

[Text:Keri] Now THAT is the biggest lie I have ever heard. [Text:Keri] You’re mopey all the time. [Text:Keri] I’ll see you tomorrow, goon.

His last text message was a big emoji of his All Might form, giving a grin and a big thumbs up. Shaking her head she smiled, “He’s such an idiot.”

ACROSS TOWN…

“I AM HERE—“ All Might burst out from an alley in front of Deku, “—YOUNG MIDORIYA!”

“AH! All might!! What are you doing here!?” He was dressed in sweats, he had been out running.

He grinned and then coughed out blood, shrinking into small-might, “I came to see if you wanted to go to lunch tomorrow, with me and another teacher at UA? I’d like for you to meet her, she’s a dear friend of mine.”

“You… want me to meet a friend of yours, All Might?”

He laughed, “Of course I do, young man. You’re my successor! And besides - she’s a great pro hero herself!”

“Wh-who is she!?” Deku’s eyes shone, thinking of the possibilities of who they could be. How strong this woman might be, what he might learn from her.

He pulled his hand to his chest, “Her hero name is Patho!”

Deku blinked and wet his lips, “The support hero? I didn’t even know you’d be acquainted with her, she’s not on many crime scenes- only natural disasters and emergencies…”

Toshinori turned, “She is a very dear friend. And she has an incredible quirk!” He huffed, “She is as passionate to help as you are, and I thought you two would get along. I want you to have a safe place to go in school if you get into UA- sometimes I wont be around, or I’ll be teaching. And besides, she knows about you, and my secret.”

“Ah- she knows? Wow… she must be really important to you, All Might.”

He blushed and cleared his throat, “Yes! As a friend!”

“You said that like three times…” He blinked.

“BECAUSE I MEAN IT. OKAY, I’ll see you tomorrow? We’ll go get lunch after our morning training! Don’t be late, young man.”

“Yes sir!” Deku nodded fiercely as he turned back into All Might and flew away.

——

Keri sat at a table outdoors at a cute little cafe her and Toshinori frequented when he needed to talk. Yawning slightly, she adjusted her UA hoodie, pulling her long hair into a side ponytail as she waited for her friend to show up with his protege.

“Hey!” A familiar voice called out, and when she looked up there he was, tall as a tree, with a boy with green hair. That must be Izuku.

Standing up when they got close she smiled, only a few inches taller than Deku, “You must be Izuku,” she held out her hand, “It’s an honor to meet you, I’m Keri Chairo.”

Izuku looked at her and smiled, shaking her hand, “The honor’s mine, Miss Chairo! It’s so amazing to meet a hero like you!”

Blushing she shot a look up to Toshinori who was beaming with pride, “You must be hungry! I’m sure Toshinori is a slave driver. Lunch is on me today, boys.”

“Oh!! Oh no you don’t have to —“ Izuku started.

“It’s my pleasure,” Keri smirked sincerely before pointing a look at All Might, “And don’t you even try to protest, I swear to god.”

He grunted and hung his head, “It’s like you can read my mind, I swear.”

Deku laughed softly and bowed, “Thank you…” When she sat down, he moved to sit and looked at All Might, who finally sat, “Your name is Toshinori?”

All Might looked to him, then to Keri and nodded, “Toshinori Yagi.” He smiled a bit, “So, Keri, this is Izuku Midoriya, who is as courageous and kind as anyone could be.”

The boys face turned bright red and the woman smiled, “I’d take that as gold, kid, Toshi is very high in his ideals - which - you no doubt know. You’re going to make a great addition to UA high.”

“I - I don’t even know how I’m going to get in but…”

Keri shushed him, “Toshi believes in you, and so I believe in you - you’ll be in classes come the fall, I’m sure. I bet we can expect great things from you.”

Deku felt his eyes water and he sniffed, “Thank you Miss Chairo…”

“This deserves a celebratory lunch! Pick whatever you want — Toshi don’t even think about picking anything with milk.”

The number one pro hero threw his hands up, “God, woman! You never let me do anything!”

For the next week, Keri didn’t see All Might at all. He went radio silent. She tried to reassure herself if was because he was so busy with training Izuku and getting settled with the High School for teaching. Though her anxiety was trying to tell her he was done with her. Shaking it off she went about her days, trying to get her own office together and go over how she was going to deal with being at the practical exam.

——

The day finally arrived. The UA Entrance Exam.

The teachers were all seated comfortably in the examination booth, all of the young hopefuls ready to tackle a simulated villain attack with robots. Keri took the seat beside All Might - noticing his hands trembling, she moved to take the one closest to her in the dark. He didn’t turn his head to look at her, but he did lace her fingers with his own to steady himself.

Toshinori felt her confidence radiating through him — he could get addicted to her quirk.

The others started, most of them quickly racking up points stopping robot after robot, while Deku looked around worried. She stroked her thumb across Toshinori’s skin, trying to calm his nerves.

“At this rate there won’t be any enemies left—“ He grunted under his breath.

She leaned close and whispered, “Give Izuku some time.”

Across the room, Midnight smirked and leaned into Aizawa, “Patho has gotten mighty cozy with All Might over the summer, wouldn’t you say, Eraser?”

He groaned, “Oh my god, I don’t care.”

“Do you think they’re a hot item? They’re holding hands.”

“Watch the mock-battle!” He grunted again, eyes never leaving the field.

“Clearly the examinees have no idea how many villains are on the field,” Principal Nezu began, “So they have to cover a vast area in a short amount of time… some are information gathering, some are focusing on raw speed and power, and some are remaining calm under pressure — all these are valuable and the students who implement them all will rack up the most points.” He punctuated his little speech with a nod.

“I’d say this years group looks very promising,” purred Midnight.

“Well,” Ectoplasm smirked, “There’s still plenty of time left before this is all over… let’s see how they react to this,” and with that he pressed a red button in the examination chamber.

Toshinori tensed, “Come on Midoriya.”

The events that unfolded with the zero-point robot were too horrific for Keri to take. She jumped out of her chair, “NEZU YOU HAVE TO DO SOMETHING— HE’S GOING TO KILL HIMSELF.”

All of the teachers sat frozen as they watched Izuku fall from the height of a skyscraper toward the ground. Keri ran to the window, gripping her hands together. Toshinori sat motionless, watching with horror - would the 9th wilder of One-for-all die before he even began?

The redhead— she saved him.

“TIME’S UP!!!!” Present Mike called out.

Just like that, it was over.

Keri moved to tear ass down to the battlefield, but when she had gotten into the stairwell away from the other teachers, she was grabbed by All Might in his full form, “PATHO, RESTRAIN YOURSELF.”

“He’s HURT, Toshinori! You’re responsible for—“ She had tears in her eyes.

His face for the first time since he met her, looked angry, “Midoriya knew what he was getting himself into.”

“NO! HE DIDN’T! YOU DIDN’T EVEN GIVE HIM ENOUGH TIME TO KNOW HIS LIMITS! HOW COULD YOU!” She let her tears fall, “YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO PROTECT PEOPLE!”

He grunted and pulled away, “How could you accuse me or not caring?” He looked, hurt, “YOU of all people—“ He stepped back again, “I warned him not to act like a pro. I told him there was severe physical backlash. If you run out there now like a frightened CHILD, that’s what you will be to these students!”

She stared at him, embarrassed and angry.

“If you run out there, you will ruin what Izuku has done for himself!” He grunted, “I stopped you because I value you and him. But I guess despite all of your schooling, you can’t see that. You just see what you want to see, like everyone else. I thought you were different.”

Keri wiped her eyes, “If that’s what you want to see, Toshinori Yagi, then that’s what you see. I’m out of here.” She turned and started down the stairs, “You introduced me to Izuku, you made sure I had a vested interest in him, and now you don’t want me to feel the need to run to his aid when he has two broken fucking legs and a broken arm? You want us to be friends? Have fun with the rest of the teaching staff, this child is going home.”

All Might slammed his fist into a railing once she was out of sight, warping it almost to the ground. He felt blood in his throat, and he de-muscled as he coughed, holding onto the warped railing. Pulling out the handkerchief in his pocket to wipe his mouth he looked down at it a moment — at the K in the corner. His heart ached in his chest as he squeezed his eyes shut. He had to go back into the examination room — cover for her.

Wiping the blood from his lips, he went back in, “Patho has decided to head home, start working on her strategy with the students for when they start in a few weeks.”

Nezu nodded, he of course had heard the fight in the hall- they all had. It was better not to bring it up, “I’ll give her a phone call later so I can discuss it with her.” He gave a smile.

Toshi stuffed the soiled woman’s handkerchief in his pants pocket and sat down in his seat miserably as he watched Recovery Girl kiss young Midoriya better.  

When Keri got home, she slammed her door shut, throwing her bag and shoes and some other things around before collapsing on the sofa in tears.

I thought you were different.

She clenched her teeth and curled into a ball, everything that happened in that wonderful summer - was their friendship over? Were things with her and All Might through? She wanted to text him, but she couldn’t. She said awful things to him, but he said just as awful things back to her.

There were two weeks before school started, and in that time, Keri and Toshinori did not speak. He was radio silent. But this time, she knew it was her fault.

[ceffythesquirrel]

Collector of Souls AU

Warnings: Death by (drugs, boiling, car crash), Major Character death, anxiety mention, deceit and remus mention, witchcraft, spirits.

Thomas always knew he was just a little bit different from everyone else. Sure his senses worked just fine like most human beings, but he could hear and see things that weren’t there.

Most of the time he was not able to discern these odd presences because they left as soon as they came and most of the sounds were just voices. But, he wasn’t able to truly focus until one day, a mysterious man who looked to be about 30 showed up in his room when he awoke.

He was frightened as a young boy of seven should be, but this man introduced himself as Logan and was unable to interract with Thomas’s room or anything in the same dimension as Thomas was. Yet, he could see and hear him.

Thomas could understand about death then, and what he had gathered from Logan’s story was this man had died the moment before he showed up in his room. Logan told Thomas he would tell him what happened when he was older, much to Thomas’s dismay. It was the first time he could see another person that was not physically there, but Thomas was accustomed to weird things happening all around him so he was not as surprised as he probably should have been.

What surprised Thomas the most from then on, was his keen intellect in school and ability to recall information he had never even learned before. The rest of his school teachers and parents were baffled as well. Logan had told Thomas that the information that Thomas knew, was the very same information that Logan knew as well from his time as a research scientist.

To diminish suspicion, Logan advised Thomas that he play dumb, even if that was the opposite of what Logan wanted him to do, because he knew Thomas was a smart kid. Thomas began asking Logan a whole bunch of questions about the world, which lead to some very cute bonding moments between them much like a guardian and son. They also started questioning why Logan was there and why he was still coherent after his untimely death. Logan encouraged Thomas to keep a secret journal and recall all of the weird things that could maybe explain why all of this was happening.

After four years of research, eleven-year-old Thomas and Logan had come to the conclusion that Logan was somehow residing within Thomas’s mind, and experiencing the world through him while being simultaneously there and not. Logan had still not aged, and he wore the same clothes everyday, unable to change them himself. Thomas thought him lucky that he didn’t have to do anything, but immediatly took it back after the sullen look on his friend’s face.

While Thomas was on vacation with his family at the beach that summer, he found a broken heart locket that looked to be very ancient. He took it with him against Logan’s skepticism and brought it back to his room. It took a lot to pry the rusted heart locket open, but once he did, the room immediatly shifted and Thomas was standing inside of a large grand castle. So was Logan.

Prince Roman makes his entrance by speaking in very old English, and admiring the odd clothes of his subjects. With some confused looks all around, they introduce themselves and attempt to explain the time skip and where they found him. It takes the prince a few seconds, but his memory comes back to him, when Thomas produces the broken heart locket. Immediatly the castle fades back into Thomas’s room, and Roman drops to his knees and tells the tale of how he and his brother were tricked by a fortune teller/witch who sealed them up inside a bi-colored heart locket. She must have broken it afterwards then split them up.

Logan doesn’t believe it one bit, but Thomas shushes him. Roman talks about this fortune teller’s knack for tapping into the spirit realm and using magic that required soul power. Thomas begins to write stuff down, but Logan doesn’t think it’s necessary. Thomas and Logan have mini-fight as Roman is still woeing in the background over his lost kingdom. Seeing, as how Roman is stuck there much like Logan is, they were gonna have to learn to get along.

Roman died around 500-600 years ago, so Thomas’s culture was all so very new and he grew curious and excited about the world. Logan was at least tolerable of him whenever he asked questions, and compared him to someone that had severe amnesia. It turns out Roman was able to mess with objects in the same plane of existance that Logan was in. He was able to change his style, create and destroy objects at will, and even change the whole setting that Thomas was in. He called it the mind palace, which Logan was not very energetic about.

Roman and Logan did fight quite a bit, but Thomas always broke it up if it got too much for them and him. Roman had the ability to prank Logan with items such as water, changing his clothes, and other hilarious stuff that Thomas could not stifle a laugh at. Roman was also able to alter Thomas’s reality in small ways. Logan had to continuously reign Roman in, fearing that Thomas may be caught and turned into the government.

It was clear Roman had a lot more to learn, but as long as he wasn’t being obnoxious or pranking anyone, Logan was able to teach him. Just watching those two interact was entertainment itself. He asked them to use their knowledge and team to figure out more about the limits of the mind palace. They did a bunch of crazy shenanigans, finding out that Thomas’s mind palace was endless, large, full of possibilities, and possibly connected to the spirit world, much to the reluctance of Logan to agree with the other spirit, Roman.

Come Thomas’s Highschool years and he notices that as he matures, the powers of Logan and Roman grow both inside and outside his mind space. Thomas is able to make connections that seem almost completely impossible to make without proper research and they turn out to be true. He can also summon small objects from nothing. Logan and Roman at this point still fight, but no longer is there malice behind any of it. Roman has grown accostomed to the future world and talks like any other human being would in the 21st century. He’s mostly content, except he wishes to find his brother and the history of his kingdom, all of which Thomas has promised him he would look out for.

One day he was visiting the school basement because of a little field trip with his friends. Roman was quite excited while Logan was more dissapproving, fearing he might get in trouble. There was talk of the school’s boiler room being haunted, saying a 1980s teacher was boiled alive because of a student prank gone wrong. There was a locked door that they were going to open, and the heart locket incident had stuck with Thomas so much that he knew what was going to happen the moment they opened that door.

He tried to stop them, but they burst it open and a sickening, but fuzzy feeling hit Thomas square in the chest and he blacked out. He awoke in a hospital bed and immediatly noticed Logan and Roman sitting in the chairs next to him with very wide eyes. But, there was another sobbing man sprawled out across their laps. Thomas and them were able to get this man to calm down after a little bit of time and explained to him what happened. The man still kept crying and soon Roman and Logan found themselves in an awkward cuddle pile attempting to console this spirit.

He looked a lot like Logan in stature facial features. They also had the same glasses brand, but his pair was just a much older model. After the man got a hold of himself, he introduced himself as Patton and explained what had happened to him. A few of the students knew how easy Patton was to spook and they tasked him with killing a spider on top of the boilers. A compartment to the inside had been left open on accident and he fell in. Patton was a well-liked teacher too and the whole school was crushed, with the students who pranked him sent to jail for manslaughter. Thomas, Logan, and Roman all cringed at the awful way to die.

Patton went on to explain his life further, about his kiddos, his wife, and other important events. Thomas learned that he still was a pretty cheerful fellow, even after that bout of crying he did. Patton then told Thomas that it is always healthy to express emotion the moment you feel it, that way you don’t have to deal with an outburst later. After the formalities had passed, Roman and Logan began to explain to Patton why they were all here. Patton followed for the most part, though he kept calling himself a ghost and not a spirit. Then came the puns on a bunch of things that they were telling him. While Roman was delighted and laughing, Logan absolutely was not.

Logan discreetly told Thomas to stop taking in random spirits, but Thomas reminded him that he really had no control over it. Also, he was beginning to warm up to Patton even after seconds of meeting him. He was just like a second dad, and he swore that the air smelled like chocolate chip cookies whenever he walked closer. Also, the way that Roman and Patton interacted with each other on first sight kind of melted Thomas’s heart a bit. 

While still in the hospital room, his parents walked in to find him talking with himself again. Thomas lowered his head like normal and they told him that they were finally going to get him a therapist to help him with the ‘disorder’ he had. He just nodded, and only then did Patton really understand where he was. Inside of a teenager’s mind with no escape. Well, at least he made some new friends that he could share this space with.

Patton was a wonderful new addition to the ‘family’ as he called them right after Thomas was discharged from the hospital. Patton mediated the fights between Logan and Roman very well and he fit in much nicer than Logan had anticipated. He even persuaded Roman to create Logan those astronomy books and telescope he wanted. He and Roman also worked together to create a much homier version of the mind palace, (Patton told Logan they would keep the name because it was cute), but it was much better now that Logan didn’t have to be subjected to Roman’s overpowered powers at every turn.

Although Patton didn’t seem to contribute much ‘power’ to the other spirits in Thomas’s mind, Logan and Roman did notice a change in the forms they took. They were unable to decipher whether the shiftshaping power was from Patton himself, or if it was Patton’s effect on both Roman and Logan’s powers, but they were relatively pleased with the anatomically correct ‘upgrade’ as Roman called it. Thomas was happy to have Patton, but nothing would have prepared him for what Patton allowed him to do. He could now read other people’s minds, tap into their feelings, and recall memories that weren’t his own all of which gave Thomas a bad mental break down. 

It wasn’t Patton’s fault, but they quickly searched for a way to stop him from subconsciously effecting Thomas. They quickly discovered they can just cease sending their soul energy to Thomas, fixing the problem. Roman and Logan wished they had found this out years prior, maybe they wouldn’t have had so many slip ups with Thomas’s parents. They all stopped sending their soul energy to Thomas that year, and Thomas finally felt like a normal human being again. He promised to tell them when he ever needed their help, but for the most part, they just hung around and did stuff while giving input every once and awhile.

Thomas started going to therapy with his three ‘imaginary’ friend’s sitting on the floor next to him. His name was Dr. Picani and he was very nice they all decided. Thomas tried to be open and honest, but the Dr. kept writing him off and asking about his ‘imaginary’ friends. Thomas asked the three spirit’s permission to give their personal information to Dr. Picani, and maybe he’d understand. They agreed, but Dr. Picani still didn’t understand.

The next couple sessions was Dr. Picani talking about the different ways that someone might deal with trauma, but Thomas insisted that he didn’t have DID. Eventually, Roman brought up the possibility of using his in real life powers to prove to Dr. Picani that Thomas wasn’t what the doc said he was. It hurt Roman to see Thomas being treated unfairly. Patton was onboard, until Logan brought up the possibility of him being found out. For a few months, the voices in his head tossed around the idea, until Logan found the rule that by law, the information in the therapist’s room stayed in the therapist’s room. Only then, did Thomas agree to it.

Junior year of highschool around two-years after Thomas met Patton, Thomas sat down with Dr. Picani and let Roman give him his soul energy once again. They made small talk first and then Thomas brought up the question to Dr. Picani. 

“Hey Picani. Um, one of my friends wants to show you something. Can he?”

“Oh! Sure! I’d love to see it!” He said with his usually cheery voice.

Thomas nodded. “Watch the pen.” He held up his hand and changed the pen in Dr. Picani’s hand into a Lollipop. Sugar and all. Dr. Picani’s eyes widen as he inspects it.

“Oh...uhm...can...can he change it back?” Thomas focuses on it and it easily snaps back into a real pen.

Dr. Picani looks at it for a solid three minutes speechless, then begins to apologize for not taking him seriously. He then goes onto explain that he doesn’t have this area of expertise and gives him the cards of a few mediums he knew. Thomas said it was alright and promised he’d keep in touch over the years. Thomas acted like the therapy had worked, and his parents were relieved. Really, Thomas had figured it out himself with the help of the spirits that were trapped in his mind, but they didn’t need to know that. He kept the cards for himself and decided to go when he had passed the age of 18 as his parents would never approve of him seeing a medium.

Throughout the rest of his highschool years, Dr. Picani becomes a guardian figure, much like how Logan was at the beginning. He tried to give him guidance and how to best deal with people who thought he was crazy, but honestly just having him listen was doing Thomas a large amount of good.

College rolls around for Thomas and Logan is more ecstatic than any of the Spirits or Thomas had ever seen him. He’s helping Thomas pick classes and helping him with his finances, things that his parents should do, but Logan makes him stay one step ahead. Roman wasn’t all that excited because all Thomas has been doing since he’s been released was “...learning, learning, learning!!” Patton reminds him that Thomas will get quite a bit of freedom and that what Thomas does with his life is his own choice. They were all just along for the ride.

At their first night in college, Thomas overhears them speaking about their current status and what they would do if they were still alive. Patton and Roman both talked about their families, but Logan said nothing. He had promised Thomas years ago he’d tell him how he died, but he still never had, which lead to him and the other two spirits to question him about. Logan finally confesses that he had died in a bad car crash on his way home from work carpooling with two other teachers. The other two walked away as he found out, but he did not. He was decapitated. Thomas was then very thankful he didn’t tell him all those years ago, and Logan agreed.

Thankfully, Thomas didn’t have to be alone with just his spirits anymore in college. He made some really good friends that he hung out with lots and many new acquaintances. One of these acquaintances was a little bit older than him and worked in the cafeteria. He always wore a nametag and his signature black and purple hoodie whenever Thomas saw him. He often waved hi, but never really stopped to chat. He liked the interaction though, and thought of him as a friendly face in a sea of strangers. He had a nice smile too whenever he would give that two fingered salute. Thus, Thomas was very saddened to hear of his death by a few of his friends.

The other spirits inside of Thomas’s mind were shocked by this, because he was still quite young, younger than any of them were when they died. Thomas spent a few hours mourning with his other friends, when an idea came to his mind. What if he tried to ‘absorb’ his soul too? Could he do that? He talked it over with the other three trying to reason with them how much he wanted to save his friend’s spirit. Patton was all for it, nodding yes because the relationship had a positive affect on Thomas. Logan was skeptical, but left the choice open to Thomas. If he could get along with the two clowns already in Thomas’s mind, then one more shouldn’t hurt.

Surprisingly Roman was the one who was hesitant to agree. He still hadn’t found his brother, and he didn’t know how many souls Thomas could take in at once. Was there a limit to his unique power? And if so, how would a fourth spirit impact Thomas and them? Thomas understood where Roman was coming from, and promised to make a bigger effort at finding his brother, if he let him save his friend’s ‘life’. Roman finally agreed.

Thomas instantly raced over to Virgil’s death site, which was an abandoned house where he and a few friends would hangout sometimes. He had overdosed on some pain medication that he was taking for his anxiety problems that Thomas knew he struggled with. He walked around for a bit, waiting for that same fuzzy feeling whenever a spirit would enter into his very being. But he felt nothing. He tried to think back when Patton, Roman, and even Logan showed up. With the former two, Thomas had to open something, but with Logan he just appeared. He wondered if that was what Virgil was going to do.

“You were asleep.” Logan stated as Thomas walked around, musing to himself. “You were asleep when I first saw you. You might need to fall asleep, but that is very dangerous to do. Especially in an abandoned house when you do not know who or what is around you.” Roman stepped up, and gave Thomas his permission to surround himself with a wooden cage. They would do their best to alert him if anything were to harm him. With that in mind, Thomas fell asleep.

He was jostled awake by two very sweaty hands jerking his shoulders back and forth. “Thomas?! Thomas! Wake up, dude! What’s going on?” His eyes blinked open and stared into the face of a very worried Virgil. He yawned a minute before noticing that the cage was gone, and Logan, Roman, and Patton all were standing a little bit away with frightened complexions. It took him a minute to figure out that the plan had worked.

“Virgil? Virgil! Oh thank god it worked! Guys! It worked!” Virgil clung to Thomas he stumbled back. 

“What worked? Where am I?! What’s going on here? Who are they?! Wait...am I dead?” Virgil felt his face and looked down at his clothes. At least they were all the same.

Thomas laughed nervously. “Yeah...um about that. You’re dead. You overdosed on your medication.” Virgil groaned and shuffled his feet in the ground, groaning about his nintendo switch, a job interview, and how life was finally going good for him. It appariently was just a bad night and more usually helped.

“Okay. I’m dead. Where am I then? And who are they?” Thomas explained about his unique power and how he was able to save Virgil’s spirit from ceasing to exist. He introduced each one of the spirits and when he met them including how each of them died. Virgil grimaced through the whole thing. “Okay. Thanks? I guess...It’s cool you thought of me, but like...what do I do...now that I’m stuck inside your mind?”

Logan steps forward and explains the predicament. If they could have left they might have a long time ago, but all three of them have found a form of solace from being with Thomas and each other. Patton holds out his hands and welcomes him into the family with a really cheesy punch line. Roman is still holding his defences. He explained to Thomas that he destroyed the cage that was supposed to protect Thomas with his bare hands. Virgil explains that he thought they were holding him hostage, but it was quite the opposite.

Patton continues to defuse the whole situation with a bunch of puns, and Virgil, Thomas, and Roman can’t help but laugh. Virgil lets it all slide and says he’d try it with the ‘family’ before wanting to find a way back to wherever his soul was after he had died. The three spirits already knew a little bit about Virgil and his mannerisms from Thomas. Although, Virgil found it odd, he never held it against them. It was weird to Virgil to hear his friends talking about him in third person, but he did wish they had nicer things to say. He was trying so hard to fit in with that crowd, but they never truly accepted him.

Patton then said something real sweet about Thomas, Logan, and Roman accepting him, but Roman wasn’t shy to state his distate for Virgil. It was the way he dressed, and the way he talked, Roman found it all off putting. What was even worse to Roman was the form of power he had in the mind palace. He could dissappear then reappear at will, catching any of them off guard. Thomas thought that was a cool power, but just like Patton, the effects on Thomas in the real world were very drastic.

They became real. Real humans again. Logan couldn’t explain it, as he touched a couch cushion again for the first time in 13 years, but there they were, real, alive, and tangible in Thomas’s apartment. This wiped Roman’s fears of Virgil completely, now that he could get a job, an instagram account, a bunch of nice clothes, he just wanted to host a ball because of how ecstatic he was. The feeling wasn’t any new to Virgil, except now everyone would think he faked his death. What he didn’t understand was how his body was here, when it was clearly cremated a couple weeks ago. It was very confusing for all of them, but Thomas told them to take it slow.

He was still going to college, but now had a full-time job and could pay for rent whilst being alone. He promised them he would let them pop in and out of existence, but they had to take this whole thing slow, just like he had to with every single new spirit that got tangled up in his mind. They could do this. He could do this. And if they wanted to find a way out of his mind, then he would help them. But, as it turns out, the choice was not up to Thomas. For each spirit that was living inside of him did not find him by chance. It was a gloved hand, reaching out of the depths of Thomas’s own soul that reached out and pulled these souls into Thomas.

[post-itpenny]

DBD Survivor OC

Thomas Grey

The survivor to go with my killer OC Irene Oakland (The Muse).

I hereby dub these two- the Center Stage Chapter

As twins, Thomas and Dinah were inseparable throughout their childhood, though their parents often encouraged them to take up separate interests. The two did everything together, more often than not with Dinah leading the way and Thomas faithfully at her heels. Perhaps the one thing the two bonded over more than anything else however, was their love of ghost stories.

Their grandmother had grown up in a rural community devoted to a local sawmill. The families living in cabins in the surrounding woods, spending much of their free time telling stories and thriving on folktales. The twin’s grandmother was more than happy to share these stories with her eager grandchildren.

In high school the twins started to find their own interests. Thomas, developing a love of computers, found himself experimenting with editing and sound. Dinah on the other hand was notorious for joining clubs and sports teams only to grow bored and quit soon after. She was far more interested in what the world had to offer, daydreaming of traveling the world and in the meantime exploring the fields, forests, and historical buildings of their hometown. While Dinah dreamed of the future her brother however, set a plan and worked for it. The summer of their junior year Thomas was awarded with a scholarship to study audio engineering in Columbus and Dinah was hit with the reality that she would be seperated from her twin for the first time ever.

Seeing his sister’s distress, Thomas started dragging Dinah to his AV club meetings where she was passed a video camera.

Dinah found a love of filming the world around her, buying an old video camera at a junk sale and beginning to document her excursions. Thomas started joining her and together they made short videos of the various places they explored. They graduated high school and Thomas went on to college with Dinah to be accepted and joined her brother in the spring.

They made friends with others who had a love of urban exploration and soon the small group had a small website to post videos of the various places they explored. They developed a large following from their fellow college students and often received requests to try visiting haunted sites. For Halloween they decided it was time to do just that, and the twins knew exactly where they wanted to go.

In their home town was a building on the historic registry despite not having been open in decades. The shell of the former Spades Theater was reportedly haunted by a vengeful actress, the Twins had both wanted to visit for many years but did not for fear of getting caught as trespassers. However their video work had given them some courage and they knew thanks to some former high school classmates how to get inside.

It was Dinah who was placed in front of the camera that night. She knew the lore of the place best and could also give commentary while she filmed. Thomas was frazzled, his equipment’s batteries dying quickly and sound filling with static as his sister grew bold and started challenging any ghosts to come out, just like they had watched so many times others doing on TV.

Thomas could have sworn he saw movement in the corner of his eye, somewhere on the edge of the stage. Suddenly, a loud shriek echoed through the hall. The group panicked and ran for the exit, a broken window pane they had taken turns shimmying through. Dinah was out first, the smallest of the group. Her friends followed suit, running off and screaming into the night. Thomas struggled to climb through the window, his leg was caught on something, or maybe something had grabbed hold of him. His sister grabbed his arms and pulled, Thomas feeling stretched as two forces fought to have him. Dinah looked up at the window, eyes growing wide in fear.

Thomas never got a chance to ask what she saw.

Dinah let go of her brother, and Thomas was dragged back inside.

Description:

Cautious yet observant. Thomas Grey is often in the background but keenly aware of the world around him, allowing the survivor to stay quick and quiet as he moves around the map.

Perks

Sound Check

You are aware of all sounds around you. Killers automatically have a five meter increase of their terror radius including while in any stealth mode. In addition, the actions of your fellow survivors have a five meter increase.

“Check, check…. Check”- Thomas Grey

Get Your Gear

Any item gained from a chest is automatically green level or higher. Items retrieved from basement chests are always purple level.

“Careful! None of this was cheap.”- Thomas Grey

Not Again

Let’s not fall for the same trick twice. Your vaults are 10% faster and there is no limit to window vaults. Pressing the secondary action allows you to fast vault with an immediate sprint burst afterwards. You suffer from the exhausted status for 15 seconds after, before being allowed to use the action again.

“Fool me twice, shame on me.” - Thomas Grey

[ladydracarysao3]

Nemesis of Neglect: A Dragon Age & Jack the Ripper Tale

This is a canon divergent Dragon Age and True Crime mash-up of Kirkwall, and London’s notorious Jack the Ripper. It is a tale not for the faint of heart, but rather for the reader who wishes to ride a thrilling mystery of sex, deception, and murder.

Chapter Eight

Chapter Summary Anders is missing. Ian is in shambles. She must find a way to save him even though she is so terribly wounded.

[Read Chapter Eight on AO3]  or  [Start with the Prologue]

When Ian was eight, she climbed a tree. It was the tallest tree outside her small Ferelden town of Lothering. A boy, she does not remember his name, dared her that she could not reach the top. But Ian knew better. She was strong, and she was brave, and she proved he was wrong. It was not until her descent that she realized her mistake.

She fell, her body knocking branch to branch. Cuts. Bruises. Fractures. And then she stopped, dangling and helpless. The children below screamed and scattered - the boy chief among them. Surely he would be to blame, and he would not be caught standing there below Ian as she gently swung, speared by that tallest tree outside Lothering.

Bethany was six. Bethany did not run or scream. Instead, the young girl looked up to her stronger, braver, older sister who had tears slipping from her eyes. Bethany spoke as a cool summer breeze and she told her older sister not to panic, because Bethany would get help.

Ian waited - nothing else she could do. She tried not to think of how one leg was still as her body swayed upside down. She tried not to feel the rivers of warm liquid creating streams down her skin. She tried to focus on the cool summer breeze her sister had left behind.

When Malcolm arrived, he was even. He did not smile. He did not frown. He was even. Too even. Methodically even. The type of even her father would be in public when he hid his anger and disappointment from onlookers. Scary even. But Bethany stood beside him, smiling, her brown curls blowing with the breeze. Ian focused on her instead, and felt calmer for it.

Though he was exposed, standing there at the base of the tallest tree outside Lothering, Malcolm took a sip from a flask he kept in his breast pocket. He took out a pocket knife, and while incanting strange phrases under his breath, he cut a slice into his palm. Methodically even words and a fine red mist surrounded the family in a magical vortex. The sharp, broken branch that had speared a young Ian’s young calf, and thus halting her descent, was dislodged. Her body eased down to the ground, carried by the drifting red mist until she was lying at her too-even-father’s two feet. And Bethany smiled and told her older, stronger, braver sister that everything would be alright.

When Ian was twenty-one, she fought a beast. He was no longer man, but mangled and evil and twisted. Like a plague, he was the destruction of her homeland. He stood between death and freedom, and his aim was to slaughter. But Ian was strong, and she was brave, and she killed the beast first. It was not until she fell to the ground alongside its still body that she realized she did not survive the fight unscathed.

She felt tired and cold, and as her eyes drifted closed, it was the blurry, serene face of Bethany she saw before it was nothing. It was the comforting words of her sister and her cool summer breeze that Ian heard before it was nothing. And it was her sister’s smile, and a reassuring hand holding hers that awaited when Ian woke back to something.

At twenty-three, Ian searched for legitimacy. She plotted and she schemed, and she sunk deeper and deeper into corruption. But Ian was strong, and she was brave, and she did what she had to. She killed, framed, and extorted who she had to. And her heart hardened how it had to.

She thought it a price she was glad to pay.

With bloody knuckles and perhaps a broken soul, she retrieved her family’s legacy. But she had grown distant and cruel in her quest, and a familiar, cool summer breeze rested its hand upon her shoulder, urging her return. It was not heeded, instead, shrugged away. Far, far away. So far that the breeze chilled, the breeze stilled, and the breeze died away.

Ian thought it a price she was glad to pay, but it was not until now that she realized the cost. The cost was a darkness where there was once sun. The cost was neglect where there was once love.

  “I will not let him die.” The words echo in the air like a chant as Ian searches for crutches in Anders’ empty clinic. She had sent Varric and Sandal to enlist the aid of anyone they could find, as well as exhaust Varric’s contacts to search for signs of Anders. She sent them under the guise that she would stay put until someone came for her, her injury only slowing them down when time was most crucial. Not surprisingly, and she was sure Varric sensed the truth, Ian does not stay put.

Upon finding the set of crutches in a cupboard, she takes to the avenues of Darktown. And she screams. Over and over again, she hollers for Grace. She calls out, mowing over any poor sap in her way, and she screams the name until her throat feels tattered and torn.

Ian tests the walls of every dead end she can find, but nothing allows her passage. Her breath labored, he body ruined, she rests her forehead against a boarded up wall and murmurs, “Grace, where are you?”

“I am here.”

Ian spins to find the very woman she searched for grinning at her while leaning on her strange cane in that way that makes Ian uneasy. Though she cannot trust the woman, Grace is more than likely the only person in Kirkwall who will help with what Ian needs.

“What can I do for you, Miss Hawke?” she asks.

“I need you to show me how to do a blood ritual. I intend to speak with that spirit, actually speak with it.”

Grace quirks her brow and corner of her mouth alike. “That requires a lot.” Her voice is like a purr, sly and slinky. “Specialized lyrium for someone with your limited experience. And the Antiquarian found you unworthy, I’m afraid.”

“I never spoke of the Black Emporium. I never spoke of you or your Mr. Xenon. I can be trusted. I beg of you, let me into your den.” Ian cannot deny the spike of adrenaline at the thought of ingesting Lyrium again. A distant song sings from the back of her subconscious. Her body heats, her heart beats faster, and a few beads of sweat form above her brow.

Grace feigns a sigh. “Alright. Enter,” she says, “but I will not be responsible if Mr. Xenon sends the bear after you.” Her strange cane begins to glow, and she grins as she points it at the wall behind Ian.

Ian turns, and upon placing her hand where the wood should be solid, she slides through to find herself in the emporium once again. Grace steps in front and leads her across the bridge that suspends over nothingness, back to the den of lyrium and lush sofas. But they do not stop there. She leads Ian through room after room of oddities and strangers. She leads Ian even though the voice of her associate echoes through the corridors, speaking of how Ian best mind herself now and after. He will not tolerate the outburst of shenanigans she had brought forth during her previous visit. Ian has no recollection of how she got from the Black Emporium to Anders’ clinic that night, but she is sure it was even more destructive than she could imagined.

Eventually, Grace leads her to a large, dark room with a strange chair in the center. Not quite a chair, in all honesty, but almost a table. Similar in kind to a seat one might find in a barbershop - a metal frame, reclining, and cushioned in areas wrapped in dark leather. Its armrests and leg rests, however, extend outward to hold one’s appendages in the shape of an X. Straps dangle from the padded metal ledges, and metal U-shaped troughs provide pathways into a vast reservoir in front of the not-chair, not-table. The reservoir is a large, shallow, copper bowl of sorts, presumably meant to collect large amounts of blood.

The entire thing is ghastly, and for a moment, Ian reconsiders.

Grace hands Ian a shift and gestures ahead with the end of her cane. “Put this on and have a seat.”

Ian takes the shift, though her eyes do not leave the scene before her. “What...what is that?”

“It provides a safe space for you to sacrifice your blood to the beyond. With the right additives, it is very powerful.” She smiles wryly and gestures again. “It is safe. Have a seat.”

It is with great hesitation and strong will that Ian fully enters the room. As she disrobes and slips the shift over her head, she tells herself that she is strong and she is brave, and she will do what it takes to right the terrible wrong she allowed to be.

Grace aiding her balance, she limps to the center of the room. Once seated, arms and legs splayed, Grace straps Ian to the the not-chair, not-table. She is remarkably terrible at reassuring Ian that the contraption will not lead to her demise, but regardless, Ian perseveres.

Grace leaves Ian’s side to retrieve items from a cupboard in a dark corner of the room, returning with an ornate glass, a cube, a strange perforated spoon, and a small vial of some kind of iridescent blue potion.

“What is that?” Ian asks, watching as Grace places the items on a small metal table beside her.

Pointing to the ornate glass where within, a liquid that is an otherworldly shade of green swirls, Grace says, “This is absinthe.” She balances the perforated spoon on the rim of the glass and then the cube upon that. “This is sugar.” She winks at Ian. “Takes away the bitterness.” She drops precisely three drops of the iridescent blue potion onto the sugar cube. “And this, Miss Hawke, is a highly concentrated lyrium potion.”

Grace waves her fingers and a small blue fire bursts onto the sugar, dissolving some of it into a bubbling brown syrup that drips through the perforated spoon’s tiny holes. Dropping the spoon into the absinthe, she swirls the leftover sugar granules around, creating a tiny hurricane of shimmering green. Heady aromas of sweet florals and anise fill the room, and Grace presents the glass to Ian’s lips with a simple command.

“Drink.”

And drink Ian does. The shock of the concoction is so strong that it induces an uncontrollable cough. Magic drips and drizzles from the corner of her mouth and down her chin. The flavor is intense, it heats and tingles her senses the entire trip from lips to tongue to gut. And thus, with startling potency, magic with a flare of alcohol enters her system, provoking her body to feel its effects in nearly no time at all. It takes hold of Ian’s mind. The room distorts to a wobbly world of funhouse mirrors. Her body numbs and sinks straight down into the seat, the world growing larger, brighter, and more distorted around her. If not for the straps holding her in place, Ian would fear that she may sink entirely into the floorboards, never to be seen again.

Grace’s twisted shape then produces a wicked looking knife Ian had not seen before. It is long, skinny, and appears to have some kind of glowing runes etched down the blade. Graces uses it to cut Ian’s skin, a hot blade of ice slicing through snow that parts and melts and gushes forth red. The blade opens both of Ian’s wrists and both of her thighs. She feels nothing and can do nothing but watch the spectacle of white flesh parting for a sea of crimson rivers that flood down the metal tracts and pool into the copper reservoir.

Grace mumbles dark words from a dark language Ian has not heard since she was a young girl dangling from a tall tree. And then, through the shallow pool of her blood, a shape begins to emerge. Slowly, it grows and rises. Antler-like horns. Webbing. A lithe body with long arms, long fingers, and long claws. Covered and dripping with blood. Covered in Ian’s lifeforce. It rises until it is the full shape of the demon she had seen the night before. But this time, it is not appearing inside her mind. This time it is physically standing before her. It is hideous. It stares into her with two black eyes. Two black voids of hell.

Ian cannot help but struggle under its gaze. She is trapped, caught in a web of her own doing. Her body weak and getting weaker by the second, it is easy for the leather straps to hold her down, but she pulls and thrashes and tries to rip from her shackles regardless, and to no avail.

Grace drops to her knees, head bowed. “I have brought her to you, my lady. The woman Hawke.”

The demon nods slowly, its predatorial eyes still fixated on Ian. It points one long finger tipped with one long claw toward the door, and Grace hurries away without question.

“Wait!” Ian calls out. “Don't leave me here!” But Grace ignores her plea and vanishes from the killing room.

“You needn’t fear me, child,” says a voice from inside Ian's mind. The sound drips from the walls. The sound rings from her bones. The demon’s head tilts slightly in a quick, cracking, and jagged fashion. The entire thing seems to flash and distort and flash again, as if none of it is real. Yet, to Ian’s frantic, pounding heart and bleeding body, all of it is most definitely, very real.

“I am here to free you from the shackles of your guilt,” the voice purrs through the air and through Ian’s skin. “In this strange, corrupt world of yours, the forsaken call to me. Cruelty runs rampant through your streets. Savagery. Sadism. It is the guilt and the guilty for which I hunger. The broken to which I show mercy.” The demon moves from the center of the reservoir, slinking closer, blood dripping from it, but somehow never running dry. “Yours is a most powerful beacon.” The creature leans in. It is large and looming over Ian’s frail body. “You called to me from a hovel. You brought me here when you placed that swipe across your face.”

Memories of cutting her hand over the place where her sister’s body had laid dead come to Ian’s mind. She remembers the electric feel the air had when she painted blood across her nose and promised Bethany she would not rest until she brought justice to her murderer.

Placing a claw under Ian’s chin, the demon tips her face up, and Ian’s eyes connect again with the two black voids staring back at her. The omnipresent voice whispers luridly into Ian’s ears, “I can free you of it.”

Ian swallows. The guilt she harbors for allowing her sister to leave that night, the guilt she harbors for growing distant, the guilt she harbors for every wrong deed she did or allowed to happen that lead her to this point weighs in her gut like and anvil. To be free of it seems impossible, but more importantly, she will do what it takes to right her most terrible wrong.

The power held in the two black eyes and the lyrium pulsing through her blood and bones has Ian slipping further and further into delirium. She opens her mouth to speak, but it is only a shuddered wisp of the word how that slides out.

The eyes seem to smile at her and the unease grows in Ian’s gut nearly to the point of bursting. “I can heal you, child of the fade,” it continues. It drops its claw from Ian’s chin and hovers its hand over her chest. A warm feeling grows there. It is calming. Needed. Her fear melts away and her strength returns. A taste of vitality that Ian has been severely lacking.

“I can give you the information you seek, where you may find all of your answers,” it continues. “And I can free you from your pain forever.” It retracts its blood-covered hand from her, taking the warm feeling away with it. “For a price.”

“Anything,” Ian says without hesitation. She means it.

“After you right your wrong, you must pledge your lifeforce to me. Your blood will be mine and live on in infamy within the Fade.” It moves in a sharp motion to lean closer again. “Have we a deal?”

Ian feels tendrils sliding and wrapping up her legs and arms. “Yes.”

That seals it. Immediately, tiny red tendrils shoot up Ian’s body. They wrap and twirl around her. They pulse and slide and pulse and tighten. The warm feeling of vitality returns as she is consumed by the demon’s intricate red webbing. The ubiquitous voice whispers continually into her mind as the webbing beats life back her body.

An image of the grand cathedral flashes in Ian’s mind. “All can be found there,” it says. “You have wounded her.”

“ Her? ”

“Yes. Her pet, the child of horns is in the catacombs with the abomination. It still lives. Much stronger than expected, it fights. Justice proves difficult to condemn with mortal power. The child of ancient fires and swords hides with her kin. She will be easy enough. Her sickness is prideful. She is not so simply controlled as the great swords had hoped.”

“Great swords?” she asks, and visions flash in her mind with rapid speed. Stills like photos from Varric’s camera fly in succession so fast that she barely has time to comprehend them. But she is able to grasp an image of Andraste in stone standing with her sword, the Grand Cleric kneeling at her feet. Then, a metal pin. A metal flaming sword below steely blue eyes. The eyes bring back the memory of Ian’s nightmare of the woman and the man and the sword pushed into her chest. The vision brings back the cold, sharp feeling she had when she met the woman Stannard. All other flashes of images are lost to her, but those were enough.

“Are you saying…” Ian wishes she could be shocked by the revelation. “They knew? They have known all along?”

Words boom in her mind like a crack of roaring thunder, I will await your final blood sacrifice , and everything crashes down around her, sending her straight to black.

  Ian gasps for air, her eyes bursting open. She jumps, finding herself in her bed. Was it all a dream? No. It couldn’t be. It had all felt too real. With fervor, Ian scans her body for evidence of her wounds, but she finds nothing. She takes a deep breath, her lungs full and strong again. Her body pulses. It is solid and… alive .

Without a moment’s more thought, Ian flies from her bed to her wardrobe. She finds everything, her knives, old brass knuckles, anything else she could use in a brawl. She dresses to fight. She dresses the kill. She dresses to win.

“I will get her for you, Bethany. I will get them all,” she says under her breath and throws open the door to her room.

Ian rides. As dawn’s light sleepily illuminates Kirkwall’s hazy sky, she rides and she rides and she pushes her horse to the max until she reaches the doors of the Viscount. And soon after, Ian bursts through Aveline’s office like she had always done before. And she finds her friend exhausted and hunched over her desk, an old oil lamp burning low beside her.

“Hawke? How are you…” Aveline’s voice trails off. She glances at a ticking clock on her desk, glances at the soft light filtering through mercury glass windows. “Why have you come at this hour?”

“We must take on the Chantry, and we need all the men you can spare,” Ian says, pounding her fists onto Aveline’s desk.

Aveline rolls her eyes. “I don’t have time for this, Hawke. During the night, a mob uprising happened outside the Qunari district.  It was a bloodbath. The Arishok is refusing aid, and I am up to my eyeballs in…” Aveline groans. “It doesn’t matter, just get to the point. What are you raving about, Hawke?”

“A coup.”

“A coup?”

“We are taking over that Maker-forsaken place.”

Aveline shakes her head and rests her forehead in her palm. “Hawke. You really are mad this time. There is no way the city guard is going to attack the Chantry.”

Ian paces, and the floorboards creak. She stomps, and the windows rattle. And she shouts to the point that her ears ring. She swings her arms wildly toward the office windows and the corrupt city beyond. “They have her. They have known. And they have Anders! If we do not go now, she will kill him too!”

“Hawke! Calm yourself! You sound like a lunatic.”

But she is a lunatic. Time is running out, and if she does not convince Aveline to help her, it could all have been for nothing. The demon may have strengthened her, but even she is not bold enough to take on the Chantry alone. She must convince Aveline to listen.

“The Ripper, Aveline!” she shouts. “It was never a he, but a she... or a they?” Ian scrunches her face and shakes her head. “It doesn’t matter now. But they knew! The Cleric. The Templars. They knew and they are covering it up.”

Ian rounds Aveline’s desk, falling to her knees beside her old friend. Taking Aveline’s hand in hers, she begs. She is not above the sentiment. Not now. “And they have him, Aveline,” she says, tears wetting and reddening her eyes but not falling. Aveline stares back at her, concerned, tired, but listening.

“They have Anders now,” she continues. “He yet lives, but I do not know how long he can fight them off. Please. Trust me. You know I would not beg it of you if I were not sure.”

Aveline stares down. A furrowed line creasing her freckled brow. She chews on her lower lip and looks toward the desk drawer where Ian had found the files on the Ripper case. Where Ian had seen Aveline’s doubts about the Chantry and the Order written, but forced to be forgotten. Ian’s revitalized heart thumps and pumps wildly in her chest, but she only squeezes Aveline’s hand and waits for her to see the truth. The truth Aveline knew was there. The truth Aveline would fight for. Because like her, Aveline is strong and she is brave, and she will risk everything for what is right.

Aveline looks back at Ian in earnest and returns the squeeze, their hands bonded in strength, determination, and justice.

“Then I shall gather my men.”

[dotswap-blog]

Anatomy Of A comic book Reserve

In my line of labor, I invest lots of time outlining significant, business-extensive assignments for senior management. Plainly outlining initiatives by using a focus on price is definitely the distinction between successful projects and those that hardly ever begin. My inspiration for sensible, very simple, and detailed overviews comes from comic guides. But as a fantasy fiction writer, I also use exactly the same procedures when outlining literary works also.

The key reason why that comic publications make fantastic define illustrations is that there is no description of action or scenery. You have raw Tale in a very compact, 32-web site installment. It consists of characterization, plot equipment, dialog, viewpoint, and most importantly conflict (from time to time even resolution).

Comic textbooks are Tale outlines but with pictures that lend depth. When comedian ebook writers produce the story, they've got specific policies they adhere to. A person rule is the fact surroundings and action are still left for the artist. The artist is supplied with a brief description on the motion and surroundings that the writer outlined for each body, but the artists are still left to build the imagery by themselves. Plot, dialogue, and characterization, nevertheless, are The author's personalized area. The artists embellish every little thing The author outlines.

If you are taking this very same components and apply it to your very own do the job, pondering on your own as The author to start with, and also the artist only when you've produced the Tale define, your perform will flourish as an alternative to flounder.

To comprehend what I signify, you can expect to initially must head out and purchase a comic book guide. Decide some thing with only one hero as an alternative to a collection of heroes since it is going to be simpler to dissect. I suggest Inexperienced Lantern or Captain The usa. Take a look at Every single frame to extract its Tale parts. For instance, placing is what ever is drawn. For those who have been to explain a body in primary terms, it might be a thing like "town street with hero crashing backwards through a window, shards exploding outward, villain crying '...just as I killed your father!'". That is the overall body, described in just one sentence. The dialog is always restricted, and nonetheless conveys plot and emotion efficiently and specifically.

Within a structure just like an define, the comedian e book author develops the story in its entirety applying choppy descriptions like this:

Atop higher-rise, hero and villain sq. off.

Villain: "I don't desire to obtain to destroy you, hero. Even so the Senator will have to die for what he did!"

Hero closes on villain.

Hero: "He'll fork out, I am going to see to it. But you're not the regulation. The law enforcement are going to be in this article before long."

Villain pulls gun and shoots wildly.

Villain: "No! He will die at my palms so that each one see what results in being of evil."

As it is possible to see, within an outline dialogue plays an essential function in the development of the story, while landscapes is simply a cursory look that sets the phase and frees you to take a position in what your reader will finally enjoy the most, your characters. It may be raining, or ice may well protect the roof top, building for treacherous footing. There can be birds perched atop the building, seeing the two Gentlemen in wonder, poised for flight at their slightest shift. When it arrives time to write down the story, these things will expose on their own - but Will not be also hasty to outline them inside your define.

When you think that in these phrases, as a comic book book writer first and artist next, it turns into clear that you need to deal with your figures and plot. Script the occasions with only the surroundings important to help them. Give the define to your internal artist only once you might be performed. Your map will guidebook the artist in you to definitely produce a story rich in surroundings and bursting with daily life if the time will come.

one. Cut out Surroundings

Do not exhibit anything as part of your outline, simply tell about it. For those who have precise descriptions you intend to use in your story, compose them in An additional document and help you save them for whenever you get to that Portion of the story. In some cases pressure-fitting a preconceived description in the get-go limitations what could normally blossom into spectacular prose. You could uncover the Tale will not need The outline in the least, and you continue to have material for one more operate.

2. Eliminate the Description of Characters

Your define only demands to explain Each individual character after and in just one area. I get in touch with this scorecards. It will give you all their Actual physical characteristics and quirks so that you can wield them in your producing without the get worried that you will be transforming eye color or adding a limp. After getting the figures described, use them as part of your define with only their names. Even when you intend to omit the character's title in precise scenes, nevertheless produce it with Best Air purifier "James (omit title) entered the room". Description of your respective people as well as their steps is one thing You merely should do inside the concluded item Except if It's a crucial for the plot.

three. Explain the Scene

For every chapter or section of one's story, briefly explain what you imagine the scene to appear to be - a park location, a residence on the edge of the lake, a crowded subway station, or The within of a car or truck. In case your chapter moves by quite a few scenes, crack up the chapter into sections. Focus on Every single segment separately, and give each segment its very own landscapes, but Really don't dwell there. You will discover in comic publications which the huge scenes acquire up the most Area, like total webpages, although scaled-down scenes split the web site. Use the same procedure. After you require to explain loads of data in a single scene, Will not be afraid to fill it up. But be cognizant of guidelines 1 and a pair of higher than. Really don't let the artist get started taking up as well early.

four. Outline Intention

Each and every scene in your story should further the Tale, enhance your figures, create the plot, or explain an function or location of relevance. Anything is unwanted. If You can't clarify the purpose of a scene to on your own, it is best to in all probability omit it. More importantly, telling on your own why a scene is crucial will turn out to be useful once the artist in you requires more than. An easy note like "foreshadowing below the Conference with hero's really like curiosity by exposing his lonely household lifetime" will rekindle your intention at enough time you produce the first draft.

5. Interact with People

Your final objective is to elucidate the conversation of your respective characters using pieces of dialog which have been significant on the Tale. This is not to convey you happen to be creating the exact words and phrases that should be spoken if the scene is ultimately drafted. You needn't even concern on your own with how a certain topic is broached, though it can help. Key in this article is always that the subject matter is handled and also your people remain in character through the dialog, and either create or minimize conflict. If your characters have certain reactions with each other, for instance a fist battle, Here is the place to elucidate why it happens and what the end result is - or does it go unresolved?

6. Preserve it Quick

Above outlining a Tale signifies you're allowing the artist in. The one time a protracted outline is appropriate is when you are working with a need for conveying points or putting research notes. These kinds of circumstances are greatest handled by managing the specifics as characters them selves. Make a scorecard concerning the analysis and facts that could be Employed in the Tale and describe them by reference. You shouldn't involve lengthy prose that contains the particular investigate in-line Along with the Tale define as it's going to weigh down your artist when you set him/her no cost.

Your objective in outlining would be to determine a transparent route together which the story should really journey in an effort to acquire you from its commence, in the making of conflict, to the climax, its resolution, and ultimately the top. When you believe yourself accomplished, review your outline and ask by yourself if you have succeeded in this objective. Preserve revising the define till you'll be able to Truthfully say you determine what you need to publish so that you can do well.

Building your define usually takes some time. It's tiresome largely due to the fact all writers are 50 % artist, and the artist wants to enable. It will require a Unique emphasis to maintain the artist at bay. I like comedian book writers for their self-discipline. We will all master from their get the job done.

[tripstations]

Hotel History: Asian American Hotel Owners Association 

The Asian American Hotel Owners Association (AAHOA) is a trade association that represents hotel owners. As of 2018, AAHOA has approximately 18,000 members who incredibly own about half the 50,000 hotels in the United States. If you bear in mind that Indian Americans constitute less than one percent of Americas population, the conquest of this business niche is extraordinary. Furthermore, about 70% of all Indian hotel owners are named Patel, a surname that shows that they are members of a Gujarati Hindu subcaste.

How did this economic miracle come to pass? The first Indian motel owner in the United States is said to have been an illegal immigrant named Kanjibhai Desai who managed to buy the Goldfield Hotel in downtown San Francisco in the early 1940s.

Some twenty-six years later in 1949, another Asian American of Indian descent came to the United States from his home near the city of Surat during the first wave of legal immigration from India. Bhulabhai V. Patel picked apricots and grapes in Northern California and worked at various jobs until he saved enough to purchase the 108- room William Penn Hotel in San Francisco in 1960. By 1996, Bhulabhai owned nine properties in Northern California with his son, Raman and grandson Pramod. At the time, he was amazed by the rapid growth of the Indian American lodging community. “It started with one hotel”, he said, “Now we’ve got thousands.”

“Patel” means farmer or landowner in Gujarat where the Patels are the original and largest clan. In order to facilitate tax collections, the British delineated, reassigned and renamed some of them “Amin” (the farm managers) and others “Desai” (those who kept the books). It is said that the Patels have a commerce gene in their blood and the anecdotal evidence seems to bear this out.

In the mid-1970s, Patels from India, Africa and Asia began to emigrate to the United States where any immigrant willing to invest $40,000 in a business could apply for permanent residence, the first step to citizenship. There were limited opportunities for such an investment. Restaurants required the Hindu Gujaratis to handle meat, an uncomfortable activity. Furthermore, a restaurant required one-on-one interaction with guests, confusing for newly-arrived immigrants. But distressed roadside motels could be acquired outright for $40,000. In addition, the motel industry was slumping badly because of the oil embargo and the resultant nationwide shortage of gasoline.

One Patel pioneer reported that a motel “… is easy to run. You don’t need fluent English, just the will to work long hours. And, it’s a business that comes with a house- you don’t have to buy a separate house….”

The new owners brought their business expertise and their families to operate these motels. They instituted modern accounting techniques to monitor the all-important cash flow. Four times cash flow became the mantra of the Patels. If the distressed motel produced $10,000 per year in revenues and could be acquired for $40,000, it was profitable for a hard-working family.

They renovated and upgraded the rundown motels to improve cash flow, sold the properties and traded up to better motels. This was not without difficulties. Conventional insurance companies wouldn’t provide coverage because they believed these immigrant owners would burn down their motels. In those days, banks were unlikely to provide mortgages either. The Patels had to finance each other and self-insure their properties.

In a July 4, 1999 New York Times article, reporter Tunku Varadarajan wrote, “The first owners, in a manner consistent with many an emergent immigrant group, scrimped, went without, darned old socks and never took a holiday. They did this not merely to save money but also because thrift is part of a larger moral framework, one that regards all nonessential expenditure as wasteful and unattractive. It’s an attitude buttressed by a puritanical aversion to frills and frivolities, one that has its roots as much in the kind of Hinduism that the Patels practice as in their historical tradition as commercial perfectionists.”

They bought, renovated, operated and resold motels mostly along the interstate highways. Soon, the name “Patel” became synonymous with the hotel business. Patels own motels in cities all over the U.S., including Canton (Texas, Mississippi, Michigan and Ohio), Burlington (Vermont, Iowa and North Carolina), Athens (Georgia, Tennessee and Alabama), Plainview (New York and Ohio) and Longview (Texas and Washington).

Author Joel Millman writes in The Other Americans (Viking Books):

“Patels took a sleepy, mature industry and turned it upside down- offering consumers more choices while making the properties themselves more profitable. Motels that attracted billions in immigrant savings turned into real estate equity worth many billions more. That equity, managed by a new generation, is being leveraged into new businesses. Some are related to lodging (manufacturing motel supplies); some related to real estate (reclaiming derelict housing); some simply cash seeking an opportunity. The Patel-motel model is an example, like New York’s West Indian jitneys, of the way immigrant initiative expands the pie. And there is another lesson: as the economy shifts from manufacturing to services, the Patel-motel phenomenon demonstrates how franchising can turn an outsider into a mainstream player. The Gujarati model for motels might be copied by Latinos in landscaping, West Indians in homecare or Asians in clerical services. By operating a turnkey franchise as a family business, immigrants will help an endless stream of service providers grow.”

As investment and ownership expanded, the Patels were accused of a wide variety of crimes: arson, laundering stolen travel checks, circumventing immigration laws. In an unpleasant burst of xenophobia,Frequent Flyer magazine (Summer 1981) declared, “Foreign investment has come to the motel industry…..causing grave problems for American buyers and brokers. Those Americans in turn are grumbling about unfair, perhaps illegal business practices: there is even talk of conspiracy.” The magazine complained that the Patels had artificially boosted motel prices to induce a buying frenzy. The article concluded with an unmistakable racist remark, “Comments are passed about motels smelling like curry and dark hints about immigrants who hire Caucasians to work the front desk.” The article concluded, “The facts are that immigrants are playing hardball in the motel industry and maybe not strictly by the rule book.” The worst visible manifestation of such racism was a rash of “American Owned” banners displayed in certain hotels across the country. This hateful display was repeated in post- Sept 11 America.

In my article, “How American-Owned Can You Get,” (Lodging Hospitality, August 2002), I wrote,

“In post-Sept. 11 America, signs of patriotism are everywhere: flags, slogans, God Bless America and United We Stand posters. Unfortunately, this outpouring sometimes oversteps the boundaries of democracy and decent behavior. After all, true patriotism encompasses the best features of our founding documents, and the very best of America is reflected in its diversity. Conversely, the worst if reflected when any one group attempts to define “American” in their own image. Unfortunately, a few hotel owners have attempted to describe their own peculiar version of “American.” When at the end of 2002 the Hotel Pennsylvania in New York City installed an entrance banner saying “an American-owned hotel,” the owners attempted to deflect criticism by explaining, “The issue of American-owned is basically not disparaging toward other hotels. We want to provide our guests with an American experience. We want people to know they are going to get an American experience. We are not really interested in what the other hotels are or what they are not.”

This explanation is as wrongheaded as it gets. What is an “American experience” in a country that prides itself on its cultural diversity? Is it only white bread, hot dogs and cola? Or does it encompass all the arts, music, dance, food, culture and activities that various nationalities and citizens bring to the American experience? How much more American can you get?”

Today AAHOA is the largest hotel owners association in the world. Its U.S. citizen members own one of every two hotels in the U.S. With billions of dollars in property assets and hundreds of thousands of employees, AAHOA-owned hotels are core contributors in virtually every community in the United States.

Excerpted from my book “Great American Hoteliers: Pioneers of the Hotel Industry” AuthorHouse 2009

The Roosevelt New Orleans Hotel (1893) is Encouraging Return of Stolen Items

Participants who return such items will be eligible to win a seven-night stay in one of the hotel’s lavish presidential suites, worth over $15,000. The Roosevelt plans to display the items in its lobby, as a record of the hotel’s history. The campaign called the “Historic Giveback Contest” has been launched to celebrate the hotel’s 125th birthday. Former guests have until July 1, 2019 to return items by dropping them off at the concierge desk or sending them in the mail, said General Manager Tod Chambers.

The author, Stanley Turkel, is a recognized authority and consultant in the hotel industry. He operates his hotel, hospitality and consulting practice specializing in asset management, operational audits and the effectiveness of hotel franchising agreements and litigation support assignments. Clients are hotel owners, investors, and lending institutions.

New Hotel Book Nearing Completion

It is entitled “Great American Hotel Architects” and tells the fascinating stories of Warren & Wetmore, Henry J. Hardenbergh, Schutze & Weaver, Mary Colter, Bruce Price, Mulliken & Moeller, McKim, Mead & White, Carrere & Hastings, Julia Morgan, Emery Roth and Trowbridge & Livingston.

Other Published Books:

Great American Hoteliers: Pioneers of the Hotel Industry (2009) • Built To Last: 100+ Year-Old Hotels in New York (2011) • Built To Last: 100+ Year-Old Hotels East of the Mississippi (2013) • Hotel Mavens: Lucius M. Boomer, George C. Boldt and Oscar of the Waldorf (2014) • Great American Hoteliers Volume 2: Pioneers of the Hotel Industry (2016) • Built To Last: 100+ Year-Old Hotels West of the Mississippi (2017)

Hotel Mavens Volume 2: Henry Morrison Flagler, Henry Bradley Plant, Carl Graham Fisher (2018)

All of these books can also be ordered from AuthorHouse, by visiting stanleyturkel.com and by clicking on the book’s title.

Travel News | eTurboNews

Original Article

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[pixelonline]

(I am so sorry, mobile users. This is really long.)

My Mass Effect Andromeda thoughts:

1. I was gonna stream the trial, but proceeded to use almost all 10 hours at once because I couldn’t stop playing. I suppose this is a good thing. I’m definitely streaming it once it’s actually out.

2. I hate the character customization. Mass Effect has always been ugly as fuck when it comes to making characters, but my dudes it is 2017 what is going on here.

2a. Side note but I laughed for like 15 minutes that there is only one “White People” face and it is honestly the ugliest thing. Cool feature (sorta not but I’m viewing it as a positive) is that there are designated skin tones with each face set. Speaking of sets, all facial features are stuck to a specific preset face. You can slightly move them, but there’s no changing. I’m hoping this is just for the trial, as other things in the game were locked off until it’s official release.

2b. so many pony tails. no undercut. despite reports saying that hairstyles would be less militaristic as you’re not a soldier, they’re more or less the same. let me be the woman i want to be dammit. There were braids, but only one style. Still double the representation compared to previously I guess? I have very much so white people hair so I don’t feel comfortable having an opinion on that subject. I will say that the braids are exclusive to fem!Ryder and m!Ryder gets 2 different textured styles. I, personally, cannot wait for the beautiful mod community to fix this hair travesty, both with representation variation and all these fucking ponytails. Maybe they can make something happen with the faces, but I hold little hope. They had “alt” hair colors, so it’s already way better than ME Original Trilogy. My Ryder has blue hair, because of course she does. There’s not much shade difference in the colors available, and some of the unnatural colors were, in fact, so unnatural looking that it was hard to accept as a hair color. dyed hair doesn’t reflect light the way it did in game and it didn’t look like much shade variation between the strands so it occasionally looked like the hair hadn’t actually finished rendering. The color selection suggested a more soft ombre look than was actually present.

3. I like that you can customize your twin also, but limits on the CC still drives me crazy. Male hair diversity isn’t super, like I said before, but it just felt like more than the female counterpart. I just really, really hate ponytails you guys.

3a. In your CC options, you can pick story bits. The only options that connect to the previous games is a selection between your Shepard having been male or female. I suppose that’s so pronouns are correct later on.

4. Prologue: I feel it takes too long, the tutorial is honestly not that great. SAM, your AI, is down for most of it, so you have no idea what anything is. It was fine at first, adding to the worldbuilding and urgency and whatnot but it got irritating by the 30th “unknown” enemy.

5. The Omni-Scanner is a neat addition, but it felt sort of...forced at times. More on that later.

6. The prologue story is okay. The ending of it, and the beginning of the actual game, was actually pretty dramatic and I didn’t expect it given the hype around certain characters that Bioware has tried to generate.

6a. Dad Ryder seemed really one dimensional with his kid. Like, never referred to them affectionately even at the last bit. This is sort of explained when you go to his room later, but it felt really hollow to me as a whole. Cool dad fact: CC of your Ryder and their twin decides what Dad looks like. Mine had obscenely blue eyes but grey hair.

6b. Evil dude looked really sad during his introduction and I wanted to be friends with him. This feels like a failed attempt at showing off the ominous silent bad guy, as I immediately started rooting for him. You go, evil dude, touch the stuff and let your dreams be true.

7. I hate the weapon interface. Inventory functions like ME1, allowing you to see the items you’ve picked up (both upgrades and actual weapons) but you cannot equip them. I couldn’t until the first mission after getting my ship. Which is terrible, as I got a sniper rifle I wanted to use and couldn’t for the prologue portion.

8. The Hyperion’s travel system is awful. There’s very little instruction about it. The tram looks as if it’s a one way thing, from the ark to the new citadel-like port, but in actuality you use it to travel around the ark itself too. Didn’t notice until my camera turned slightly to the right and another thing on the board was selectable.

8a. Not travel related, but you do get more info about the ending of the prologue and a new ongoing mission on the Hyperion. It felt like a bit of a slap. It’s all “Here’s this cool new power and a friend BUT ALSO FUCK YOU JON SNOW YOU KNOW NOTHING and you’ll never find out until you go look for these things randomly around. But not around here! Fuck you twice!” It was clearly created to push the story more later on, which is all fine and good, it just ticked me off at this moment.

9. The new Citadel is a goddamn mess. I’m not a huge fan of it right now, though what I’m 100% sure will happen is that as you make more homesteads, the place gets nicer until you’re at endgame and have a fully functional hub. I’ll like it more once it starts changing. It looks like it has really good potential. I hope it functions more than the keep in DA:I, and your choices really DO have an effect on what is opened up and how the society there builds itself.

9a. The Original Trilogy made each race very distinct, with their own speech patterns and everything. I didn’t really get that from this game’s other races. The Salarians didn’t speak in fast bursts with lots of words jammed together, and the Turians more often than not didn’t have that robotic twinge to their speech, and weren’t all that hostile. It seems unlikely to me that there wouldn’t be any left over anger as they left for Andromeda seeing as it’s possible some actually fought in the first contact war. It is about 30 years apart. It was something constantly prevalent in the previous trilogy, which every NPC lived during (at least ME1)

9b. I do, however, love super not Krogan Krogan lady. She’s perfect and I wish I could romance her. You do talk about the genophage. Sucks that she and her clan have no idea that there’s been a cure for over 500 years now.

10. The ship, Tempest, is really nice. I always felt like Normandy was very irritating to navigate around. ME1 especially, but 3 wasn’t so hot either. This one isn’t as large, but it has a really nice flow that I liked. Pathfinder quarters were way better than Shepard’s.

10a. It has a system like the Dragon Age: Inquisition war table where you have timed missions that NPC complete for materials, items, and intel. Seems interesting, but I didn’t see one to completion. They’re still running.

10b. the R&D table is interesting, and I like the separation between the two, but it didn’t feel like a huge asset so early in the game.

11. The traveling system is beautiful. Visually it gets 100% approval. However, it’s extremely slow paced. any selection of a new planet or system takes you back to where you were originally, lets you stare at it a moment, then flies you to the next place where you zoom in for another moment before zooming out and then FINALLY getting information about it. It’s nice, but by the 12th time I was incredibly tired of it.

12. Your Salarian pilot is cool. Not especially Salarian-like, but still I liked him. Cannot kiss. I tried.

13. Material gathering is kind of limited. You scan a whole system, and you have the option to scan planets, but there’s not much point to it as SAM tells you if there’s something worth scanning there. Usually it’s a single deposit of a mineral.

14. I hated the MAKO in ME1, but this one isn’t so bad. I think it helps knowing that I can customize it later.

15. Speaking of customization, you can change the colors of your casual clothes and your armor. It’s the same color selection tool as in CC, so it’s awful. The dial to change the color overlaps with the bubble to select the actual shade so there’s a lot of trial and error involved. Once again, no indication that [SPACE] is necessary to confirm your color choices. I hate the whole design of it.

16. You do meet some companions that you’ll pick up, but you barely interact with them. Good intros though. Really gave them personality right off the bat.

17. ROMANCE: Being fem!Ryder is rough at the start.

17a. Gil is one of the ship’s crew. He’s one of the few genuinely attractive males in all of Mass Effect’s history. As a woman, you can flirt with him, but he turns you down solidly. He’s kind, but firm. He states that he’s interested in men. Which is awesome, because now I have a reason to play a male Ryder after my first play through is done. Female Ryder apologizes, nothing is weird (unlike other interactions) and it actually made me like him more as a character.

17b. Liam kind of blows off your advances but it definitely felt like a rejection. As he wasn’t very clear, I don’t know if he’s a bi character that you have to develop a friendship with first, or if he’s gay and just doesn’t want to come out to your Ryder. I didn’t like the wishy-washiness of the interaction but we’ll just have to see what’s what when the full game is out.

17c. Doc. I forgot her name, so now she’s Doc. I knew this interaction wouldn’t go well, as I’ve read articles about it. She definitely turns you down because you’re a patient. I’ve read that she has a crush on the Krogan that joins you, so is he not a patient too? Either way, she’s very professional about it and as with Gil it made me appreciate her character. Knowing that it’s Natalie Dormer and I’ll never hear her tell me she loves me hurts me deep in my soul though. Why does the world hate me like this???

17d. Blonde biotic woman with the goddamn hair that I want on my Ryder. Cora. I don’t like her. You have the option to hit on her early on, and her reaction felt really awful to me. She gets kind of hostile and all “I already told [person you never met] that I’m not interested in women and I’m telling you too.” Like, ok. Damn. You aren’t my type anyways. I just wanted to see the option play out. 0/10 poor way to handle the interaction. I’m not super fond of the Asari commando thing either. Jack was a kickass biotic too and she was treated like a monster. This woman gets to take part in something very culturally specific like it’s nbd? jnasdlfknasdivhbna, not a fan of her. She looks somewhere between confused and murderous all the time. Also, she walks like Stretch Armstrong. It makes me laugh.

17e. Vetra. The only individual that actually reacts positively to fem!Ryder flirting with her. Even then she really only takes it like a compliment. But, as I love Vetra and much like Garrus I would die for her from first glance, I’ll take it. I think it’ll be a beautiful relationship. She’s also really tall. And pretty. One thing I thought was strange with her is that it always looks like she’s posing when she’s just standing around. One hip is thrust out and her arms are crossed. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think they rigged her to always be in mysterious seductress pose.

17f. I couldn’t flirt with the pilot. Let me kiss the Salarian, damn you Bioware. Also, our nice Scottish friend Suvi can’t be flirted with, but she sounds really soothing to talk to. I’m def a fan of all these non-American, thicker than previously heard, accents on the ship. The Original Trilogy was full of light British accents or full on American. Sort of hard to believe the Alliance was multinational when everyone spoke like they were from the US.

18. Combat: I mostly use the sniper rifle and the pistol. Pistol was nice. I love the sniper rifle in this game. Other ME games it was hard for me to confirm headshots but this one was a clean and clear animation. Very nice. The companion AI was strange at times, as they’d just use their abilities but in odd places so the skills would get stuck in corners or just go off to nowhere. There was combat stutter on the first planet you can visit but I think that’s more my graphics card. The update refuses to finish so I’m stuck 2 updates behind where I should be.

I have, like, an hour I think left so I’m gonna try to rush through a male Ryder play and see how companion reactions differ. I’m really only in this for the romance, you know.

[mycreativeoutlet1]

Knights of Camelot

So...unoriginal title aside, this is a prompt from @angel-demon-princess who wanted some Merlin and Arthur being protective of the knights of Camelot instead of the other way around. I wasn't quite sure where I wanted this to go, but I just kept writing and this is what it turned out as. Also, I haven't watched Merlin in a while so I don't remember all of what happened around the time Uther passed and Arthur took the throne, so just roll with it. I tried catching up...but it didn't work out. I'm so dang sorry this took forever, and I really hope you like it!

"Hello Lord Kyner," Arthur greeted, rising from his throne. Merlin watched with a half interest as to who the lord was this time. This meeting was one of dozens as of late. With Uther's passing, Arthur was making quick work on maintaining and gathering nearby alliances. There had been nicer Kings and Lords who had honored their treaties with Uther, and therefor Camelot and Arthur. There had been some plotting and calculating Lords, ones who seeked the advantage of a new King of Camelot and a weakened morale as a whole. Merlin detested those Lords; he didn't care for their beady, sneaky eyes upon Camelot. In addition, they were all Lords or Knights or higher stationed, so most of them looked upon Merlin as if he were just a stable cleaner or below the King's servant and not one of the strongest magic wielders to be prophesized about. Not that anyone, save a few, knew that last bit.

"Prince Ar- Forgive me, King Arthur," the tall man greeted, tsking sadly. "I am truly sorry for your loss. Uther was a good king to Camelot and her people."

Merlin already disliked the man.

"He was, thank you," Arthur continued diplomatically as appropriate for his new station. "Why don't we get you and your knights settled for the evening. I'm sure you are exhausted from your long travels. My servant, Merlin, will show you the way as I make sure preparations for tonight's banquet is fit for this reunion."

Merlin wanted to narrow his eyes at the visiting lord. Something was amiss about him, and he couldn't tell whether it was just the man's condescending behavior, even towards Arthur, or if it could be something more sinister. Either way, he had learned to listen to his gut instincts long ago and he wasn't going to stop now.

The sounds of sword training drew Merlin forward. He was out walking Arthur's dogs around the castle grounds and enjoying a bit of sunshine. Arthur had been working Merlin to the bone with all the new guests. Apparently, he was to help service all of them with anything they needed, be it food, clean clothes, polished boots, or armor. Walking Arthur's dogs gave Merlin a much needed reprieve from everyone clamoring for something.

Around the corner and ahead of him, stood the Knights of the Round Table. Elyan and Percival were sparring with Gwain two-to-one, Gwaine being the single combatant. Merlin couldn't help a fond smirk; Gwain did always like the odds against him. A few of the visiting Lord's knights walked up to watch, their faces nearly mocking as they stood off to the side.

Merlin let the dogs wander a bit, letting their leashes fall to the ground. They were trained well enough that they wouldn't wander too far, and if they did, a simple command would bring them back. He slowed near the castle wall to help avoid possible detection from Arthur as he watched the knights spar with each other. Although, by what Merlin was watching, they didn't seem to be taking it too seriously. It seemed more like they were getting to know each other's fighting style; gauging their reflexes and movements more than anything.

Before long, the other knights started to chuckle and made rude noises as they watched the sparring match. After stopping, and some unsurprising challenging remarks from Gwaine, the visiting knights decided to spar with them.

Merlin watched more intently now, eyes slightly narrow. The feeling of initial dislike wiggled in the back of his mind, though he was still unsure as to why.

Gwaine decided to spar with one of the knights, just a one-on-one match. They circled each other slowly, Gwaine's steps lighter and smooth while the others were slow and calculating. After a few tense moments, the two finally lunged at each other, swinging their swords. Each clash rang over the field while the knights watched. Merlin noticed that the other knight was using a bit more force than strictly necessary for a simple sparring match. Gwaine quickly lost ground, caught unaware at how viciously the knight was coming at him. Not long after, Gwaine's sword was flung to the side to clatter to the ground while the other knight still stood posed to attack.

Gwaine conceded with grace, hands held up in surrender, and went to pick up his fallen sword. Only, as he was walking away, the other knight decided to lunge at Gwaine again while he was about to turn to walk away. The other Camelot knights shouted a warning as they all tried to sprint forward to help. Before Merlin could fully make a conscious decision, magic burst through him making the attacking knight go flying forward as if he had tripped while running.

"Gwaine!" everyone shouted, clammoring to know if the knight was alright. Thankfully, Merlin had intervened in just the knick of time. Percy and Elyan stood near Gwaine, somewhat surrounding him. Percival kept a side-eye on Gwaine, however, as Gwaine was looking ready to start a free for all brawl right there on the practice field.

Lord Kyner's knights picked up their fallen knight and brushed him off, then proceeded leave from where they came from. Merlin exhaled slowly, glad Gwaine was unharmed. Whistling for the dogs, he continued on his way back into the castle. He had to tell Gaius about what happened. Maybe the older man would have some insight on Lord Kyner and his knights.

By the time Merlin got a chance to ask Gaius, it was late into the night. Dinner had been... fair. Gwaine was still tense around some of the visiting knights and Percival and Elyan seemed to keep an eye on him, while Leon kept an eye on all of them. They didn't need to ruin any chances of a continued alliance with Lord Kyner, who was apparently a strong ally near the southern borders. Gaius had told Merlin later on, that Lord Kyner was a seeker of strength rather than integrity, which is why his knights had tried to attack Gwaine while he was unarmed. The knights were as ruthless as they were direct, which is why they held much land in the south.

Merlin still didn't like it. The knights of Camelot had all saved or helped him in some way at some point, even if he was just a servant. They acted like Merlin's family, and he'd be damned if he let someone hurt the people he cared about.

Which is exactly what happened a day later, when Arthur and Lord Kyner had taken a handful of knights to go hunting in the dense forests just over an hour's ride from the castle. Merlin had gotten all of Arthur's riding equipment together and was ready to go as well, when Arthur had decided to leave Merlin behind saying he'd only scare away all the game and make unnecessary noise or commentary. Merlin had been more than happy to comply, less time around Lord Kyner or his brutish knights was welcome. Maybe he could get some magic studies in while they were gone.

An hour into reading over his books again and trying some smaller spells inside his bedroom, he heard the door to Gaius' chambers burst open and voices talking quietly. Snapping the books shut and stashing them under the floor boards, Merlin jogged out to see what had happened.

"I swear if they don't leave soon, treaty or not-" Gwaine's voice whispered harshly.

"You'll do nothing," Leon told him, helping Percival onto a bench. Gaius made the knights move so he could look at Percival's arm.

"We can't just let them do what they want! I say we go give them a taste of their own underhanded tactics. They're supposed to be here for peace, not trying to take each of us out," Gwaine grumbled, pacing like an angry animal.

Leon sighed, rubbing his eyes. "I agree, but we do not need to be fighting with anyone right now." Gwaine went to interrupt before Leon continued. "Regardless if Camelot's forces are larger than theirs, they are still a formidable group who'd be better on our side. We have enemies, and we don't need to help them by sending them more forces against us. We can hardly tattle on them like children. We're knights and we should act accordingly."

"I hate politics," Gwaine continued to grumble, arms crossed. "How's his arm, Gaius?"

Percival forced a smile as Gaius tried moving Percival's arm around to test the limits of movement. "Well, it's not broken. You're lucky, but I'd recommend not using it for a few days to heal. How exactly did this happen?" Gaius asked.

"Lord Kyner's knights happened while we were hunting. Funny how we've never had an incident on our own before," Gwaine said with a sarcastic roll of his eyes.

"We were running down some game, and one of them pushed me out of the way down a steep hill," Percy offered. "It would have been fine but I landed hard on it and rolled a little ways."

The bowl Merlin had grabbed for Gaius shattered in his hands and fell to the ground in shards. He flinched and bent down to clean it immediately. "Sorry, a bit clumsy today," Merlin explained hastily, willing his magic back. The others, who had turned to see what the sudden noise was, continued on with their conversation. Merlin gathered what Gaius had asked for and handed the items over for Gaius to wrap the knight's arm snuggly. If only they knew he had magic, he could heal Percy's arm in less than a minute, but they didn't know. The less people who knew was safer for him, even if it killed him to keep his secret sometimes.

With the wrapping finished, the knights helped Percy up and to his chambers. Merlin told Percy that if he needed anything, to find him or have someone find him and he'd get it to the knight as quickly as he could.

By the fifth day, Merlin was nearly close to blowing his cover as a simple servant and revealing himself as a powerful sorcerer by throwing Lord Kyner and all of his knight's outside the castle and onto their asses. Not only had the visiting knights not offered any sort of apology (they'd even thought it necessary to blame Percy for not moving out of the way) they had continued to subtly insult the knights and cause small, yet infuriating, problems.

Gwaine actively avoided Lord Kyner's knights on orders from Leon. Gwaine had nearly gone after a couple of the knights when they had been blaming Percy and insulting Camelot's hunting styles and routines. Elyan was on Gwaine watch, and Percival was still healing, even if he didn't have the arm sling anymore. Leon was acting as buffer between the two groups, but it was beginning to get under the eldest knight's skin too.

What was worse was their cavalier attitude towards the knights when they knew their Lord or Arthur wasn't around. Dinners had an odd atmosphere around them while the Camelot knights and servants tried to avoid the visitors as much as possible without seeming rude. No one dared complain, however. The only people with a high enough station to complain would be the knights, but Leon had told them to just wait it out, that they would be gone soon. A bit of patience would be better than having insult anyone, and it seemed best to just avoid any form of confrontation for diplomacy sake.

Merlin was getting really tired of diplomacy.

On the sixth and almost final day of their visit, Arthur had called an informal meeting in the throne room. Merlin had been counting down the seconds until Lord Kyner would take his men and leave. A week was far too long for a visit from these people.

Trailing behind Arthur, Merlin stood off to the side as a few of Camelot's knights lined the walls official as ever, and then Lord Kyner appeared in the room. Arthur hadn't told him what the meeting was about, but he had said that Lord Kyner had wanted to discuss something with Camelot's new king.

"Thank you for meeting with me on such short notice," Lord Kyner bowed. His knights had filed in behind the man, standing tall and every bit as formidable as they were rumored to be.

"What could I help you with, Lord Kyner?" Arthur asked.

"I was wondering if you'd be interested in taking some of my knight's into your care to use as needed. I understand with the attacks you've had recently, that you've suffered a great loss to your forces."

"A great loss?" Arthur repeated.

"Yes, King Arthur," Lord Kyner continued. "Why else would you let men who are not of noble blood serve as knights? You must be desperate for men if you're asking peasants and near strangers to serve you. I mean no disrespect, Camelot has been through a great deal."

Merlin barely managed to conceal a scoff at the man's words. Camelot's men were worth at least ten of the Lord. And at least twenty of his knights.

"Lord Kyner," Arthur said, "you seem to be under the impression that my knights are not up to the task of protecting Camelot, protecting me. Is that true?"

"Of course, King Arthur. You're knights lack a certain... experience as knights to be of any effective use for the kingdom. They simply have not been taught and bred with the ways of a true knight," he explained, haughty as ever.

Merlin watched in his anger as several of the knights shot the Lord barely concealed glares. Gwaine's jaw was clenched as he just looked ahead of him, trying to focus on some spot on the wall. Elyan's eyes were narrowed slightly, hands clenched behind him. Percival looked resigned to dealing with the brutes for the indefinite future. Leon was watching Arthur dutifully.

The room remained quiet for a few moments before Arthur stood from his throne. "I'll hear nothing more from you, Lord Kyner. I will not have you insult my Knight's of Camelot further."

Lord Kyner went to say something before Arthur continued over him, his voice carrying through the room. "I have hand picked these men myself to fight for Camelot. They have more integrity and strength than you will ever know, and they have saved my life numerous times. They are more than worthy of bearing the title of Knight, and I am honored that they serve me so loyally. I will hear no more of these insulting remarks towards my knights or Camelot. Bearing that, I would have you leave Camelot within the hour."

Lord Kyner looked at Arthur with widened eyes and a semi-slacked jaw. "King Arthur-"

"No, I do not want to hear it. I've heard of your knights causing trouble all week and the rudeness they have displayed in my home. They have insulted my people, and therefore have insulted me, and I will not tolerate it. I ask you again to get your men and leave. The servants have already gathered your things and readied your horses for your travels."

The older lord watched Arthur closely. "And what of the treaty? Are you saying you'd rather not abide by it?"

"Not at all," Arthur replied, stepping down from the throne. "I would still like to keep the treaty in tact, but I will not have you insulting me any further. We will keep our relation between messengers and small visits, nothing more. Do you wish to break the treaty?"

Silence.

Merlin watched as every knight in the room shift nervously, watching each other closely.

Finally, the lord shook his head. "No. Camelot is still a good ally to have, even if our opinions differ. We'll be taking our leave now. Thank you for your gracious hospitality."

Merlin didn't hold back his snort that time as the Lord forced the neutral words from his mouth. He didn't particularly sound happy about what had happened, and Merlin couldn't help but enjoy every minute of it.

With that, the Camelot knights let out a collective breath as Lord Kyner and his knights made their way down to the stables to leave. Frankly, Merlin was surprised that none of them tried to argue or put up a small fight, but he was glad they didn't.

Arthur let out a long breath and stood there for a minute before Leon stepped forward to kneel before Arthur. "Thank you for the words, my King. We shall do our best to live up to your expectations." The rest of the knights in the room followed suit, kneeling in a flourish of red capes and shiny armor. Arthur bowed his head back in respect and acknowledgement. With a motion, the knights all rose to stand, more relaxed than before.

"Although," Arthur continued, looking around at his knights. "Gwaine, how did you not throttle one of them this past week?" he wondered. "If anyone would have thrown a punch, I figured it'd be you."

The knights all laughed, the tension draining out of the room quickly.

"It was a challenge," Gwaine declared dramatically. "And now I need a drink! Anyone up for a trip to the tavern?" Arthur nodded at them in dismissal, and several of them agreed, walking out of the throne room. Arthur said that he had other things to take care of, so he left after telling Merlin to get back to work.

"You alright, Merlin?" Leon asked, resting a hand on his shoulder.

"I'm fine," he answered, watching as Arthur walked away. Besides Arthur telling Merlin to get back to work like he hadn't put up with the knights all week as well, Merlin still felt a deep respect for Arthur. It took a lot to potentially turn away a powerful ally for the sake of his knights. "But how did Arthur find out? " Merlin asked aloud, "I thought we all agreed to keep it quiet and wait for them to leave."

"Who knows, Merlin?" Leon smiled at him, patting his shoulder. "Who knows? It's just good that they're finally gone and away from Camelot."

After an almost-knowing smirk from Leon, Merlin looked up at the older knight. "Did you-?"

"Who knows," Leon shrugged, before smirking and walking away.

Merlin stood there dumbfounded for a moment. Leon that sneaky knight... He'd been the one trying to be the buffer between the two groups and telling everyone to be patient and just wait for the visitors to leave. "I thought you said tattling was childish?!" Merlin couldn't help but yell after Leon, chasing the man down to get answers.

[fanfiction-writers]

Knights of Camelot

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: None

A/N: So…unoriginal title aside, this is a prompt from @angel-demon-princess who wanted some Merlin and Arthur being protective of the knights of Camelot instead of the other way around. I wasn’t quite sure where I wanted this to go, but I just kept writing and this is what it turned out as. Also, I haven’t watched Merlin in a while so I don’t remember all of what happened around the time Uther passed and Arthur took the throne, so just roll with it. I tried catching up…but it didn’t work out. I’m so dang sorry this took forever, and I really hope you like it! -Kristen

“Hello Lord Kyner,” Arthur greeted, rising from his throne. Merlin watched with a half interest as to who the lord was this time. This meeting was one of dozens as of late. With Uther’s passing, Arthur was making quick work on maintaining and gathering nearby alliances. There had been nicer Kings and Lords who had honored their treaties with Uther, and therefor Camelot and Arthur. There had been some plotting and calculating Lords, ones who seeked the advantage of a new King of Camelot and a weakened morale as a whole. Merlin detested those Lords; he didn’t care for their beady, sneaky eyes upon Camelot. In addition, they were all Lords or Knights or higher stationed, so most of them looked upon Merlin as if he were just a stable cleaner or below the King’s servant and not one of the strongest magic wielders to be prophesized about. Not that anyone, save a few, knew that last bit.

“Prince Ar- Forgive me, King Arthur,” the tall man greeted, tsking sadly. “I am truly sorry for your loss. Uther was a good king to Camelot and her people.”

Merlin already disliked the man.

“He was, thank you,” Arthur continued diplomatically as appropriate for his new station. “Why don’t we get you and your knights settled for the evening. I’m sure you are exhausted from your long travels. My servant, Merlin, will show you the way as I make sure preparations for tonight’s banquet is fit for this reunion.”

Merlin wanted to narrow his eyes at the visiting lord. Something was amiss about him, and he couldn’t tell whether it was just the man’s condescending behavior, even towards Arthur, or if it could be something more sinister. Either way, he had learned to listen to his gut instincts long ago and he wasn’t going to stop now.

The sounds of sword training drew Merlin forward. He was out walking Arthur’s dogs around the castle grounds and enjoying a bit of sunshine. Arthur had been working Merlin to the bone with all the new guests. Apparently, he was to help service all of them with anything they needed, be it food, clean clothes, polished boots, or armor. Walking Arthur’s dogs gave Merlin a much needed reprieve from everyone clamoring for something.

Around the corner and ahead of him, stood the Knights of the Round Table. Elyan and Percival were sparring with Gwain two-to-one, Gwaine being the single combatant. Merlin couldn’t help a fond smirk; Gwain did always like the odds against him. A few of the visiting Lord’s knights walked up to watch, their faces nearly mocking as they stood off to the side.

Merlin let the dogs wander a bit, letting their leashes fall to the ground. They were trained well enough that they wouldn’t wander too far, and if they did, a simple command would bring them back. He slowed near the castle wall to help avoid possible detection from Arthur as he watched the knights spar with each other. Although, by what Merlin was watching, they didn’t seem to be taking it too seriously. It seemed more like they were getting to know each other’s fighting style; gauging their reflexes and movements more than anything.

Before long, the other knights started to chuckle and made rude noises as they watched the sparring match. After stopping, and some unsurprising challenging remarks from Gwaine, the visiting knights decided to spar with them.

Merlin watched more intently now, eyes slightly narrow. The feeling of initial dislike wiggled in the back of his mind, though he was still unsure as to why.

Gwaine decided to spar with one of the knights, just a one-on-one match. They circled each other slowly, Gwaine’s steps lighter and smooth while the others were slow and calculating. After a few tense moments, the two finally lunged at each other, swinging their swords. Each clash rang over the field while the knights watched. Merlin noticed that the other knight was using a bit more force than strictly necessary for a simple sparring match. Gwaine quickly lost ground, caught unaware at how viciously the knight was coming at him. Not long after, Gwaine’s sword was flung to the side to clatter to the ground while the other knight still stood posed to attack.

Gwaine conceded with grace, hands held up in surrender, and went to pick up his fallen sword. Only, as he was walking away, the other knight decided to lunge at Gwaine again while he was about to turn to walk away. The other Camelot knights shouted a warning as they all tried to sprint forward to help. Before Merlin could fully make a conscious decision, magic burst through him making the attacking knight go flying forward as if he had tripped while running.

“Gwaine!” everyone shouted, clammoring to know if the knight was alright. Thankfully, Merlin had intervened in just the knick of time. Percy and Elyan stood near Gwaine, somewhat surrounding him. Percival kept a side-eye on Gwaine, however, as Gwaine was looking ready to start a free for all brawl right there on the practice field.

Lord Kyner’s knights picked up their fallen knight and brushed him off, then proceeded leave from where they came from. Merlin exhaled slowly, glad Gwaine was unharmed. Whistling for the dogs, he continued on his way back into the castle. He had to tell Gaius about what happened. Maybe the older man would have some insight on Lord Kyner and his knights.

By the time Merlin got a chance to ask Gaius, it was late into the night. Dinner had been… fair. Gwaine was still tense around some of the visiting knights and Percival and Elyan seemed to keep an eye on him, while Leon kept an eye on all of them. They didn’t need to ruin any chances of a continued alliance with Lord Kyner, who was apparently a strong ally near the southern borders. Gaius had told Merlin later on, that Lord Kyner was a seeker of strength rather than integrity, which is why his knights had tried to attack Gwaine while he was unarmed. The knights were as ruthless as they were direct, which is why they held much land in the south.

Merlin still didn’t like it. The knights of Camelot had all saved or helped him in some way at some point, even if he was just a servant. They acted like Merlin’s family, and he’d be damned if he let someone hurt the people he cared about.

Which is exactly what happened a day later, when Arthur and Lord Kyner had taken a handful of knights to go hunting in the dense forests just over an hour’s ride from the castle. Merlin had gotten all of Arthur’s riding equipment together and was ready to go as well, when Arthur had decided to leave Merlin behind saying he’d only scare away all the game and make unnecessary noise or commentary. Merlin had been more than happy to comply, less time around Lord Kyner or his brutish knights was welcome. Maybe he could get some magic studies in while they were gone.

An hour into reading over his books again and trying some smaller spells inside his bedroom, he heard the door to Gaius’ chambers burst open and voices talking quietly. Snapping the books shut and stashing them under the floor boards, Merlin jogged out to see what had happened.

“I swear if they don’t leave soon, treaty or not-” Gwaine’s voice whispered harshly.

“You’ll do nothing,” Leon told him, helping Percival onto a bench. Gaius made the knights move so he could look at Percival’s arm.

“We can’t just let them do what they want! I say we go give them a taste of their own underhanded tactics. They’re supposed to be here for peace, not trying to take each of us out,” Gwaine grumbled, pacing like an angry animal.

Leon sighed, rubbing his eyes. “I agree, but we do not need to be fighting with anyone right now.” Gwaine went to interrupt before Leon continued. “Regardless if Camelot’s forces are larger than theirs, they are still a formidable group who’d be better on our side. We have enemies, and we don’t need to help them by sending them more forces against us. We can hardly tattle on them like children. We’re knights and we should act accordingly.”

“I hate politics,” Gwaine continued to grumble, arms crossed. “How’s his arm, Gaius?”

Percival forced a smile as Gaius tried moving Percival’s arm around to test the limits of movement. “Well, it’s not broken. You’re lucky, but I’d recommend not using it for a few days to heal. How exactly did this happen?” Gaius asked.

“Lord Kyner’s knights happened while we were hunting. Funny how we’ve never had an incident on our own before,” Gwaine said with a sarcastic roll of his eyes.

“We were running down some game, and one of them pushed me out of the way down a steep hill,” Percy offered. “It would have been fine but I landed hard on it and rolled a little ways.”

The bowl Merlin had grabbed for Gaius shattered in his hands and fell to the ground in shards. He flinched and bent down to clean it immediately. “Sorry, a bit clumsy today,” Merlin explained hastily, willing his magic back. The others, who had turned to see what the sudden noise was, continued on with their conversation. Merlin gathered what Gaius had asked for and handed the items over for Gaius to wrap the knight’s arm snuggly. If only they knew he had magic, he could heal Percy’s arm in less than a minute, but they didn’t know. The less people who knew was safer for him, even if it killed him to keep his secret sometimes.

With the wrapping finished, the knights helped Percy up and to his chambers. Merlin told Percy that if he needed anything, to find him or have someone find him and he’d get it to the knight as quickly as he could.

By the fifth day, Merlin was nearly close to blowing his cover as a simple servant and revealing himself as a powerful sorcerer by throwing Lord Kyner and all of his knight’s outside the castle and onto their asses. Not only had the visiting knights not offered any sort of apology (they’d even thought it necessary to blame Percy for not moving out of the way) they had continued to subtly insult the knights and cause small, yet infuriating, problems.

Gwaine actively avoided Lord Kyner’s knights on orders from Leon. Gwaine had nearly gone after a couple of the knights when they had been blaming Percy and insulting Camelot’s hunting styles and routines. Elyan was on Gwaine watch, and Percival was still healing, even if he didn’t have the arm sling anymore. Leon was acting as buffer between the two groups, but it was beginning to get under the eldest knight’s skin too.

What was worse was their cavalier attitude towards the knights when they knew their Lord or Arthur wasn’t around. Dinners had an odd atmosphere around them while the Camelot knights and servants tried to avoid the visitors as much as possible without seeming rude. No one dared complain, however. The only people with a high enough station to complain would be the knights, but Leon had told them to just wait it out, that they would be gone soon. A bit of patience would be better than having insult anyone, and it seemed best to just avoid any form of confrontation for diplomacy sake.

Merlin was getting really tired of diplomacy.

On the sixth and almost final day of their visit, Arthur had called an informal meeting in the throne room. Merlin had been counting down the seconds until Lord Kyner would take his men and leave. A week was far too long for a visit from these people.

Trailing behind Arthur, Merlin stood off to the side as a few of Camelot’s knights lined the walls official as ever, and then Lord Kyner appeared in the room. Arthur hadn’t told him what the meeting was about, but he had said that Lord Kyner had wanted to discuss something with Camelot’s new king.

“Thank you for meeting with me on such short notice,” Lord Kyner bowed. His knights had filed in behind the man, standing tall and every bit as formidable as they were rumored to be.

“What could I help you with, Lord Kyner?” Arthur asked.

“I was wondering if you’d be interested in taking some of my knight’s into your care to use as needed. I understand with the attacks you’ve had recently, that you’ve suffered a great loss to your forces.”

“A great loss?” Arthur repeated.

“Yes, King Arthur,” Lord Kyner continued. “Why else would you let men who are not of noble blood serve as knights? You must be desperate for men if you’re asking peasants and near strangers to serve you. I mean no disrespect, Camelot has been through a great deal.”

Merlin barely managed to conceal a scoff at the man’s words. Camelot’s men were worth at least ten of the Lord. And at least twenty of his knights.

“Lord Kyner,” Arthur said, “you seem to be under the impression that my knights are not up to the task of protecting Camelot, protecting me. Is that true?”

“Of course, King Arthur. You’re knights lack a certain… experience as knights to be of any effective use for the kingdom. They simply have not been taught and bred with the ways of a true knight,” he explained, haughty as ever.

Merlin watched in his anger as several of the knights shot the Lord barely concealed glares. Gwaine’s jaw was clenched as he just looked ahead of him, trying to focus on some spot on the wall. Elyan’s eyes were narrowed slightly, hands clenched behind him. Percival looked resigned to dealing with the brutes for the indefinite future. Leon was watching Arthur dutifully.

The room remained quiet for a few moments before Arthur stood from his throne. “I’ll hear nothing more from you, Lord Kyner. I will not have you insult my Knight’s of Camelot further.”

Lord Kyner went to say something before Arthur continued over him, his voice carrying through the room. “I have hand picked these men myself to fight for Camelot. They have more integrity and strength than you will ever know, and they have saved my life numerous times. They are more than worthy of bearing the title of Knight, and I am honored that they serve me so loyally. I will hear no more of these insulting remarks towards my knights or Camelot. Bearing that, I would have you leave Camelot within the hour.”

Lord Kyner looked at Arthur with widened eyes and a semi-slacked jaw. “King Arthur-”

“No, I do not want to hear it. I’ve heard of your knights causing trouble all week and the rudeness they have displayed in my home. They have insulted my people, and therefore have insulted me, and I will not tolerate it. I ask you again to get your men and leave. The servants have already gathered your things and readied your horses for your travels.”

The older lord watched Arthur closely. “And what of the treaty? Are you saying you’d rather not abide by it?”

“Not at all,” Arthur replied, stepping down from the throne. “I would still like to keep the treaty in tact, but I will not have you insulting me any further. We will keep our relation between messengers and small visits, nothing more. Do you wish to break the treaty?”

Silence.

Merlin watched as every knight in the room shift nervously, watching each other closely.

Finally, the lord shook his head. “No. Camelot is still a good ally to have, even if our opinions differ. We’ll be taking our leave now. Thank you for your gracious hospitality.”

Merlin didn’t hold back his snort that time as the Lord forced the neutral words from his mouth. He didn’t particularly sound happy about what had happened, and Merlin couldn’t help but enjoy every minute of it.

With that, the Camelot knights let out a collective breath as Lord Kyner and his knights made their way down to the stables to leave. Frankly, Merlin was surprised that none of them tried to argue or put up a small fight, but he was glad they didn’t.

Arthur let out a long breath and stood there for a minute before Leon stepped forward to kneel before Arthur. “Thank you for the words, my King. We shall do our best to live up to your expectations.” The rest of the knights in the room followed suit, kneeling in a flourish of red capes and shiny armor. Arthur bowed his head back in respect and acknowledgement. With a motion, the knights all rose to stand, more relaxed than before.

“Although,” Arthur continued, looking around at his knights. “Gwaine, how did you not throttle one of them this past week?” he wondered. “If anyone would have thrown a punch, I figured it’d be you.”

The knights all laughed, the tension draining out of the room quickly.

“It was a challenge,” Gwaine declared dramatically. “And now I need a drink! Anyone up for a trip to the tavern?” Arthur nodded at them in dismissal, and several of them agreed, walking out of the throne room. Arthur said that he had other things to take care of, so he left after telling Merlin to get back to work.

“You alright, Merlin?” Leon asked, resting a hand on his shoulder.

“I’m fine,” he answered, watching as Arthur walked away. Besides Arthur telling Merlin to get back to work like he hadn’t put up with the knights all week as well, Merlin still felt a deep respect for Arthur. It took a lot to potentially turn away a powerful ally for the sake of his knights. “But how did Arthur find out? ” Merlin asked aloud, “I thought we all agreed to keep it quiet and wait for them to leave.”

“Who knows, Merlin?” Leon smiled at him, patting his shoulder. “Who knows? It’s just good that they’re finally gone and away from Camelot.”

After an almost-knowing smirk from Leon, Merlin looked up at the older knight. “Did you-?”

“Who knows,” Leon shrugged, before smirking and walking away.

Merlin stood there dumbfounded for a moment. Leon that sneaky knight… He’d been the one trying to be the buffer between the two groups and telling everyone to be patient and just wait for the visitors to leave. “I thought you said tattling was childish?!” Merlin couldn’t help but yell after Leon, chasing the man down to get answers.

[ciathyzareposts]

Game 320: Xoru (1989)

Character selection occurs right on the main title screen.

         Xoru

United States

Castle Technologies (developer and publisher)

Several versions released between 1987 and 1989 for DOS

Date Started: 13 June 2018

Date Ended: 5 March 2019

Total Hours: 7

Difficulty: Easy-Moderate (2/5)

Final Rating: (to come later)

Ranking at Time of Posting: (to come later)

         Xoru has taken me on a hell of a ride over the last 9 months. Last June, I played it for a few hours, got stuck, and decided I had enough grounds to reject it as an RPG. Then, in December, I got a long, impassioned letter from a fan who begged me to reconsider. I fired it up again and got stuck in roughly the same place. This time, I put out a call for help and commenters Zenic Reverie (“The RPG Consoler“) and D.P. got involved. They helped a bit but got stuck with the same puzzles that I did. Then I tracked down the author, Brian Sanders, and we exchanged several e-mails. Brian didn’t remember enough to help with my specific problem at first, but I must have put a bug in his ear, because a few weeks later wrote back with a map and hint guide that he’d “commissioned,” which suggests to me that I annoyed him so much that he paid someone to solve the game so I’d go away. On the same day he sent the hint guide, Zenic won it on his own and sent me his solution. In the end, I still don’t feel like it’s much of an RPG, but I’ll be damned if I’m not going to write about it after all that.             

My Trizbort map of the dungeon.

         Written by San Diego-based developer Brian Sanders and released as shareware, Xoru is a text adventure-RPG hybrid that invites comparison with Beyond Zork (1987) in its mechanics, if not its attitude. The game went through several versions in the late 1980s and eventually acquired an “Advanced” tag (i.e., most sites have it as Advanced Xoru), but the main title didn’t change. There’s sort-of a subtitle–Descent into the Depths of the Ebon Titan–that appears far enough away from the main title that I’ve chosen to regard it more as flavor text than a true subtitle.

The backstory casts the character as a denizen of the modern world, abruptly wrenched by a cabal of wizards from a busy airport terminal, through a portal, and into a “pseudo-medieval fantasy world” in which he must explore a sprawling, multi-leveled dungeon for various reasons. In this, the game almost immediately clashes with its extremely brief character creation system in which you choose from among an unusual list of classes: paladin, necromancer, barbarian, zen-druid priest, and shadowy tracker. The implication is that each class will call upon special abilities and strengths to solve the game’s obstacles, in the manner Quest for Glory, but in practice it mostly means that some classes have an easier time in combat than others.

Gameplay for everyone begins in an “edifice ruin” at the top of the dungeon, each character finding items there appropriate to his class. The text window is accompanied by a mini-map that shows the directions the character can move, a clear Beyond Zork influence.         

The game begins. A little map tells you which ways you can go.

         The dungeon under the ruin consists of about 75 rooms arranged in three sections, logically-constructed and well-described. Xoru lacks most of Zork’s humor (which got a little too thick in Beyond, I thought) but it has the same attention to economical, vivid descriptions of rooms and events, at the best of times eliciting the sense of exploring a dangerous place with a good dungeon master. There isn’t much of a core “theme” to the dungeon, and like Zork the pseudo-medieval world has modern concepts like plumbing and elevators. Some examples of the experience:            

A trap door is on a high ceiling. You have to drag a bench from another room and stand on it to open the door. It takes you to an alchemist’s lab where you receive a couple of important items.

A hobbit sits in a room with nine cards, kind of like a Deck of Many Things. He invites you to draw as many cards as you would like, one of which will free him. But for each draw, he will take a random item from your inventory. This can result in a “walking dead” situation if he takes an important item, so you have to prepare by dropping anything vital and loading up on miscellaneous treasure and extra weapons. The cards have various positive and negative effects. One of them does free the hobbit, for which he gives you a necessary gold key, and another gives you an important clue to another room.

         The memorable hobbit encounter.

           The clue mentioned above is: “Make music with the giraffe, camel, elephant, and a pair of ferrets.” When you find a room with an organ, you therefore have to play GCEFF. The game has virtually no sound, but it does represent these tones faithfully. Playing the right sequence opens a secret door to an area with a vital key.

An area has enormous tanks full of water. You have to go to a pumping station and turn the controls to empty the tanks, at which point you can enter each tank, each of which holds a different puzzle piece. Putting them together gives you a sapphire cube that you need for the penultimate area.

             Was there a similar puzzle in one of the Zork games?

           There are a fair number of “red herrings” in the game, not just as objects but also areas that feel like they ought to serve a larger purpose because of the detail in which they’re described (e.g., the torture chamber) or how much trouble it took to get there. For instance, there’s a puzzle involving an elevator that leads you to something called an “Ant-E-Room” where you have to kill a giant ant. But despite a vivid description of the room, there’s nothing to accomplish there. There’s an entire sub-section full of one-way chutes and passages that seems to have no purpose except to challenge your ability to get out if you’re unlucky enough to blunder in.

Monsters pop up occasionally–ogres, gnolls, ghouls, bugbears, basilisks, and maybe one or two others I didn’t write down. Fighting them is generally a matter of typing KILL [MONSTER] WITH [WEAPON] and letting the action play out. Spellcasters are supposed to find scrolls that they can use in combat by typing CAST and the name of the scroll. I never found any spell scrolls beyond the one that the game starts you with, which seems to do nothing. The game tracks an strength statistic and a health statistic that deplete as you take hits. The fighting classes seem to have a easier time than the others, but nobody has a terribly hard time. There are potions and generic scrolls scattered around the dungeon that increase strength and restore health and armor protects you from harm.

              Trading blows with a basilisk.

           I spent a lot of time annotating the presence of monsters and items on my original map, only to discover on a replay that these locations are heavily randomized for each new game. Sometimes you meet monsters in practically every room; other times, you can make it through the entire game without fighting once. Sometimes, I had half a dozen weapons to choose between; other times, I never let go of my starting scimitar. Most of the time, I never found any armor. Playing a couple of times helps you determine which items are necessary, as they’re always found in the same locations for every game. There are a lot of unnecessary items (except perhaps as fodder for the hobbit’s card game), including lots of gems and valuables, but also things that sound like they ought to do something, like ropes and 10-foot poles.

The interpreter is adequate. It follows most of Infocom’s standards; for instance, the player can switch between VERBOSE, BRIEF, and SUPERBRIEF descriptions of places he’s already been, and hitting G is a shortcut for “again,” or repeat the previous action. Z passes time. Yes, it’s derivative, but on the other hand it’s nice for players not to have to learn a new set of conventions. Unfortunately, the interpreter tends to fail when given complex commands or compound sentences with propositions. The manual says that it supports actions like TAKE THE APPLE AND EAT IT, but I found that most of the time it would do the first part of the sentence and ignore the second part. I’ve never seen the advantage to using such complex sentences anyway, so it mostly didn’t bother me. A little more annoying was the tendency of the interpreter to confuse objects; for instance, if you have both the sapphire and the sapphire cube, trying to drop the sapphire will actually cause you to drop the cube.

           The parser gets a bit confused from compound sentences.

           There are a ton of commands I never found any use for, including TALK, JUMP, KNOCK, PULL, PUSH, and LISTEN. These plus the extra items and poor use of the classes suggests to me that Sanders meant to keep expanding the game, or perhaps offer additional modules with the engine.

The game has a time limit of 360 moves, but that’s pretty generous, especially considering that a lot of moves don’t count, such as waiting. Also, for some reason, drinking water in a particular room (you have to solve an inventory puzzle involving a well bucket crank first) increases the number of available moves while also (nonsensically) increasing your score every time you drink. But if you do wait out all the turns, you suffer an instant death as water comes bursting through a couple of previously-unopenable doors and floods the dungeon. There’s also a hunger and thirst system, but food and water are both plentiful, and anyway you could easily win the game before even noticing that you’re hungry or thirsty.

         Instant death when you run out the timer.

       When I got stuck, was about 80% of the way through the game, and in retrospect, I wasn’t really stuck. I was overthinking a solution to a particular puzzle that involved replacing a cracked jug on a statue with a new one. I didn’t realize from the room description that the room is basically in two halves, and that to approach the statue, you need to walk through an energy barrier, which you can only do if you have a sapphire cube in your possession. There were times I had the cube, but I never tried walking through the room with the cube in my possession, I guess.

          The room where I spent way too much time trying to throw things at the jug, and poke it with poles, and lasso it with a rope . .

          Once you solve this puzzle, you get a ruby prism, which reflects some laser beams coming out of the eyes of a couple of lion statues, allowing you to pass to the “Chamber of the Lake,” where you climb a statue and pry an emerald sphere out of one of its eyes. With sphere, cube, and prims in possession, you visit a room called the “Mirrored Room” and insert them in three appropriately-shaped holes. The floor drops out and you’re dumped into the final area, to confront the Ebon Titan.

           Reaching the endgame.

         This final area gives you an odd puzzle, a bit unsatisfying to me because I didn’t really figure it out. You find yourself on a grid of blue, green, red, and black (or “void”) squares, the colors shifting as you plot your moves. You’re represented as an asterisk, and the Ebon Titan is represented as an exclamation point. The only goal is to make it to the Titan’s square, but each of the colored squares (at least most of the time) has some kind of trap.

Earlier in the game, at a random location, a jester comes prancing through one of the rooms and gives you a clue about this area–just before he’s incinerated by a lightning bolt. The problem is that his clue (at least, to me) doesn’t really help because it indicates that any of the colored squares could have a trap.

         The jester tries to help but doesn’t tell me about any “safe” squares.

          It took me a couple of reloads, but I made it through by luck. I’d be really curious how I was supposed to deduce the right path here. Even the author of the hint file that Sanders commissioned wrote, “Look, I honestly don’t know where the traps are or what the colors mean. That is why you save.”

             Trying to make it through the final area.

           Once you reach the Titan’s square, he just dies with a pathetic “Nooooooooo . . .” The game congratulates you on having defeated “The Great Enslaver.” A sword that was embedded in the floor in front of the Titan–now named the Sword of Life–“quivers to life, leaping from the stone into the palm of your hand.” You’re teleported outside the dungeon, where the edifice collapses to reveal a gleaming diamond palace, and a wizard appears and congratulates you on becoming king. Not bad for a guy who was suffering from a flight delay just half an hour ago.

           Vanquishing the Ebon Titan.

          The game gives you a final score at the end which makes little sense. When I died, it said I had accomplished 100% of my goal, but when I beat the game having done all the same things, it said I was at 79%. Much like other text adventures, including Beyond Zork, once you know what you’re doing, a winning game is trivially short. You could win this one in 10 or 15 minutes.

           At 100%, I could have been a GOD.

          I’ll leave judgement as to its text adventure qualities to The Adventure Gamer, if they ever get to it. As an RPG, it barely qualifies. There is extremely minimal character development in the form of strength increases, and combat, simple as it is, does technically rely on attributes as well as equipment. In a GIMLET, I give it:

2 points for the game world. It’s not terribly thematic and could use a more compelling backstory. It would be nice to have heard something about the Ebon Titan and his status as an “enslaver” before actually meeting him.

1 point for character creation and development. There really is no point to the classes, particularly the thief-oriented “shadowy tracker.” It would have been cool if there had been class-oriented puzzles, for instance a door that a thief could pick, a barbarian could bash, and a magic user could open with a spell. Puzzles like the trap door could have easily been class-aspected rather than having everyone drag over a bench.

         Checking my inventory and stats.

        1 point for NPC interaction, and that’s very limited, consisting of basically the hobbit and a couple of optional encounters in random places with a jester and a hunter.

3 points for encounters and foes. The foes are unimaginative, and the puzzles are mostly simple inventory puzzles.

         At first, I thought there might be something more interesting to do with the hourglass, but no, the solution was to just BREAK it.

        1 point for magic and combat with no real options. I think maybe you can throw holy water at a ghoul, but otherwise your only “tactics” are KILL MONSTER WITH WEAPON.

2 points for equipment. There isn’t much in the traditional RPG style, and a lot of red herrings on the adventure side.

0 points for no economy. No, trading stuff to the hobbit doesn’t count.

2 points for the main quest.

2 points for graphics, sound, and interface. It gets most of this value for the quality of the text. The map images are mostly superfluous, the sound is extremely scant, and as we saw, the interpreter had some issues. I do like that you can move with the arrow keys instead of having to type NORTH and EAST all the time.

3 points for gameplay. I give it a little credit for some nonlinearity and replayability in the optional areas, although overall the dungeon is a bit too small and the puzzles (despite my getting stuck on one) are a bit too easy. It doesn’t drag, at least.

               That gives us a final score of 17, which is pretty low, but I’m not really rating it in its appropriate genre. Text adventure fans will probably enjoy it more than RPG fans.

Xoru was reviewed in the April 1993 issue of Red Herring, where the reviewer said that he could “highly recommend it,” although he’d only been exposed to the demo copy, which killed you after 80 moves. The 1997 issue of the British magazine SynTax provided a more thorough review, agreeing with me that the “text descriptions are very good: not flowery but straight to the point and informative,” but complaining about the simple puzzles. He also notes–and I would have to agree–that the $44.95 price tag was a bit steep for a game of such limited content.

The version I played was 5.94. From the release notes, the Version 5 series had one more dungeon area than earlier editions, and at least some previous versions didn’t even bring the game to an ending. While this was the last text version, it wasn’t the last version entirely: In 2014, Sanders–his company revived and re-christened Castlelore Studio–created a 3D graphical version of the game for the Mac. You can see it in action here and buy it here. The graphics are what you’d expect from an indie developer (it’s “really hard to do by yourself,” Sanders wrote me), but as the video played, I found myself easily recognizing the various rooms based on the text versions that I’d explored. Certainly, I got zapped by those lion-lasers plenty of times.

         The series of “gallery” rooms represented in the 3D engine.

           In e-mail correspondence with me, Brian Sanders said that he originally wrote the game while he was a junior in high school. His mother suggested the title, but after he found it listed once-too-often at the bottom of game lists and the ends of catalogs, he made “Advanced” part of the title. It was originally just a grid of rooms with randomized monsters and treasure–something like a text Wizard’s Castle–but grew from there. Sanders says he was inspired by the Infocom titles as well as Choose Your Own Adventure books.

I was an avid reader and I was enchanted and captivated by these computer programs which made stories exploratory and interactive. There was this exciting illusion that the games offered limitless possibilities for exploration–even if the world was clearly finite, you had no way of knowing how far it went, and you would have to use your own mind to get there.

That’s a good summary of the experience playing a lot of RPGs, but perhaps specifically adventure games. With most RPGs of this era, and their fixed grids of tiles, you generally get a sense of the dimensions of the maps and overall game world, and you know when your character is about to hit its edges. There isn’t quite the same sense of wonder as to what’s around the next bend. Adventure games mostly feature non-symmetrical layouts that can sprawl unannounced in any direction. Once you have the entirety of the game before you, it often seems simple and underwhelming, but when you’re playing live and you don’t know whether the locked door opens into a closet or an entire sub-dungeon, it can be exciting in ways that perhaps my GIMLET doesn’t capture. I’m sorry we won’t be seeing many more of these.

Thanks to Brian, Zenic, and D.P. for helping to clear this one, and to everyone for your patience in a slow week as I recovered from a lot of travel and work late in February. The rest of this month ought to be back-on-track and productive.

source http://reposts.ciathyza.com/game-320-xoru-1989/

[mannyscarwashseo]

Visual Social Media, How Pictures Improve Your Social Media Marketing

Do you use visuals in your social websites marketing?

Have you been wondering how you are able to use images to take your marketing to a whole new degree?

To find out about visual sociable websites, I interview Donna Moritz for this episode of the Social Media Marketing podcast.

More About This Display

The Social Media Marketing podcast is a show from Social Media Examiner.

It’s designed to help busy marketers and business owners discover what functions with social networking advertising.

The show format is on-demand talk radio (also referred to as podcasting).

In this event I interview Donna Moritz, who is a social media and visual advertising pro. She’s also the founder of Socially Sorted, a website designed to help little businesses reach more with visual sociable websites.

Donna shares the value of visuals in your social websites marketing.

You’ll discover the kinds of images that function best and the tools you can use to create them.

Share your feedback, read the show notes and find the links mentioned in this event below!

Listen Now

http://traffic.libsyn.com/socialmediamarketing/SocialMediaMarketing-078-14-01-31.mp3

Register today: Perform window | Download

You can also subscribe through iTunes, RSS, or even Stitcher.

Here are some of the items you’ll discover in this show:

Visual Social Media

What’s visual social media marketing?

Donna sees it because the usage of some kind of vision to communicate visually.   It’s possible to use images or video to let a story or share a message.   This was done in marketing for years.

As humans, it’s in our nature to convey visually. Images procedure quickly and people are attracted to them.

Listen to the show to discover why visual marketing has merged with social websites.

Why do artwork thing so much?

Donna explains how many people started using a site, where they would write in long form and build a community around it. Then along came Facebook, where articles became briefer and then Twitter burst on the scene using a 140-character limitation.

People have moved from sites to microblogs and now to multimedia microblogs. The only direction to go would be to speak with images. Together with Instagram and Pinterest, you are able to communicate only with images. Sometimes words aren’t even necessary.

People have consistently communicated visually–from as far back as painting images on walls. Picture source: iStockPhoto

Images are now even more popular with the capability  to shoot video and photos using the camera on a smartphone.

Detavio Samuels, who owns the marketing business International Hue, stated, “The only thing shorter than a tweet or an article is a film.”

Listen to the show to discover why all platforms are becoming image-centric.

Picture Alternatives for marketers

Donna explains how it is possible to use images in various ways in your promotion.

It is possible to produce a short, snappy video; use images and images; slides or even a SlideShare demonstration; infographics and interrogate pictures.

You’ll figure out which one in the list below Donna found gets the maximum shares and answers.

Tips

How-to

Quotes

Checklists

Infographics

Jay Baer talks about becoming inherently useful in his book . If you’d like your picture to become shared a lot, then you have to make sure it’s beneficial to your target audience.

For highly shareable articles, make sure it’s beneficial to your target audience.

You have to remember that as humans, we connect emotionally to graphics greater than video, audio or text. People make decisions and take action faster when prompted by graphics, instead of by reading a lot of text.

You’ll discover how it is possible to use how-to images for your small business and why it’s simpler than you think.

Another great alternative would be to tease people with a picture. You don’t have to offer the entire process; rather add a call to action to get visitors to click through to a site, Facebook page or Pinterest page.

On Facebook, you want to build engagement, or so the picture should be one that people will share, instead of click on to a own blog.   If you are smart, you can find some really great outcomes.

This picture was designed accordingly the Social Media Examiner community would respond to it. People went mad for it.

Listen to the show to find out why folks feel compelled to click in a picture, such as it, discuss it, repost it or save it.

The elements of good visuals and making them sharable

Donna claims that with any bit of articles, you have to consider everything you would like it to do and where you need visitors to go.

A great place to start is with content that helps and inspires people. To get a more shareable variable, it is possible to ensure it is timely articles to coincide with breaking news, a party or an event.

Donna talks about when she worked with the group at   Know Your Midwife, a personal midwifery practice in Australia. They have about 1700 followers on Facebook.

They started to post images consistently that were shareable and relevant to their own community. A lot of the images included quotes about normal birth and enabled birthing.

Know Your Midwife post always on Facebook.

You’ll hear about the people who started to share these images, and why it isn’t only people in their own community who seem to them for articles to share.

When it was International Midwives’ Day, Donna quickly composed a picture using a quotation using PicMonkey. They had 1400 shares by the end of the day.

The picture was more shareable in this case as sometimes people like to share images that seem like their own on Facebook.

You’ll hear the company advantages of using these kinds of images, and why it’s becoming more and more important with the newest Facebook news feed rank algorithm.

Donna considers that Facebook is currently such as Pinterest, in that 80% of material is shared content and 20% is first content.

When you merge the power of vision with initial content, then it gets shared a lot. If it is possible to create some of your own original content, you’ve got more chance of being shared, compared to needing to share everybody else’s. It’s very strong.

Another great example is a company owned by Caz and Craig Makepeace known as yTravel Blog. It’s among the biggest travel websites on earth. They have 4.35 million followers on Pinterest.

They have noticed a 3- to 5-fold increase in visitors in Facebook to their website, only from posting images with the overlay of a hint or a quotation.

They saw an increase in visitors from Facebook to their site, when they published this type of picture.

Programs were designed, so that text is easily added.

This template was designed so the owners can overlay themselves.

Listen to the show to discover why scheduling your own graphics is indeed important, and the tools you can use to accomplish it.

How to get started and the tools to use

Donna claims that although she isn’t a graphic designer, she does do a lot of the images herself.

Among the first tools she found will be PicMonkey. It’s an image-editing tool that doubles as a image-creation tool. Donna claims that it’s quite intuitive and there are a great deal of templates to choose from.

PicMonkey is quite simple to use.

Another tool that Donna enjoys is Canva. Now you can get your username and account promptly. They’re exceptional in that they’ve made graphic design quite accessible to everybody.

They also have a stock library of a million photographs that it is possible to gain access and some remarkable social media templates. Donna claims that a few of the updates that are due from Canva will blow people’s minds.

You’ll hear how you can use screenshots with programs like Snagit and Jing.

In case you’ve got a great deal of images that explain information, then the best sort of picture to use is the infographic. It’s a terrific way to help a person understand your message, story or concept.

Donna and her team have done a lot of infographics for the business and for clients. You’ll hear unique methods it is possible to use infographics in your company, along with the dimensions that work best for Facebook, Pinterest and sites.

Within this report, Donna goes through the various elements of a infographic.

Donna recommends you don’t just put your infographic on Pinterest. In case you have something more to say concerning it, then re write it into one of the blog articles. It’s a fantastic way to get additional mileage out of it.

Listen to the show to discover the other tools that Donna utilizes to create infographics.

Discovery of the Week

I was recently in Las Vegas using Joel Comm, at which he introduced me to a really cool program called Hang With. It’s an app for the iPhone or Android that lets you do live streaming using the push of a button right to your Facebook page or directly to different folks having the program.

It’s a live broadcast and once the broadcast is now finished, the video is then readily available on YouTube.

Joel chose to perform a fast 2-minute video of us at a buffet in the hotel. Everything was completed seamlessly due to him.

I believe it’s a really cool program, although I haven’t used it yet. Maybe it’s the direction we’re going with photography and video–the idea of a live component.

Make sure to check it out.

Telephone in and depart your social websites–related questions for us and we might incorporate them in a future show.

Listen to the show to find out more and tell us how this works for you.

Other Display Mentions

The week’s podcast is sponsored by Social Media Marketing World.

Social Media Marketing World 2014 is the physical mega-conference, which can be set to go back to San Diego, California on March 26, 27 and 28.

The conference features more than 80 sessions in four main paths: societal tactics, social plan, community management and content marketing. These sessions are taught my top specialists in the realm of social media marketing and content generation.

A small sampling of some of the speakers comprises Ekaterina Walter (visual promotion), Ted Rubin (societal relationship-building), Larry Benet (media), Martin Shervington (Google+) and Lou Mongello (podcasting).

We are so excited about this conference! Ensure to check our hashtag #smmw14.

The conference is going toward a sellout. Be sure to check it out.

Key takeaways talked about in this event:

Research  Detavio Samuels, who owns the marketing business   International Hue.

Have a look at  Jay Baer’s publication  Youtility.

Head around to Know Your Midwife  about Facebook to see the types of images they post.

Check out yTravel Blog and determine what they do on Pinterest  and   Facebook.

Utilize Buffer and HootSuite for scheduling articles.

Attempt  PicMonkey  and Canva to help you produce images.

Use Instagram and Over program.

Utilize  Snagit  and   Jing for screen captures.

Create infographics using Piktochart, easel.ly,    also  .

Email Emily at   emily@socialmediaexaminer.com if you are interested in corporate sponsorships to Social Media Marketing World 2014.

Help Us Spread the Word!

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What do you believe? What are your thoughts on visual social websites? Please leave your comments below.

Picture from iStockPhoto.

from Affordable Search Engine Optimisation From Mannys http://www.mannyscarwash.com/visual-social-media-how-pictures-improve-your-social-media-marketing/

[themomsandthecity]

4 Stupid Things First-Time Parents Do When Expecting

Now that my kids are 2 and almost 5 (and I've been writing about motherhood for most of their young lives), I'd like to think I've learned a thing or two about parenting babies. But back in 2011, when I was about to give birth to my daughter, I was as clueless as every other first-time mom. Despite the numerous parenting books that lined my nightstand and the hours I spent researching every newborn-related thing I could think of on BabyCenter, I had no idea what kind of crazy, life-changing experience was coming my way - and how stupid some of the first parenting decisions I made truly were. Recently, I attended a baby shower for one of my younger friends, and I was surrounded by pregnant women, glowing with the anticipation of their first child's arrival and a blissful lack of understanding about what they were really getting themselves into. I didn't want to burst their baby-joy bubbles by telling them they didn't really need the wipes warmer or every available stroller attachment, but maybe I should have. While no one can really prepare you for your first baby, let me share a few dumb things I did, so you don't have to repeat my mistakes. * Buying every possible baby item and gadget made. Like many first-time moms, I was convinced I needed everything those online registry lists suggested, including multiple strollers, a bouncer, a swing, a bassinet, a crib, a wipes warmer, a bottle warmer, a million swaddles and sleep sacks, and, of course, a couple of pairs of baby skinny jeans, size 0-3 months. My daughter hated the bouncer and swing, I never used those warmers, and the skinny jeans? The poor girl couldn't bend her chunky legs in them. Now I would tell my former self to buy the bare minimum. One safe place to put the baby down is ample. Trendy gadgets probably aren't necessary. And remember, Amazon and Diapers.com deliver just as fast after the baby's born as they do before, and you'll know much better what you really need once you and your baby get to know each other. * Getting too attached to my birth plan. I never wrote out a birth plan, but I was adamant about not wanting a C-section. So after 16 hours of labor, when my doctor told me I'd only progressed to six centimeters and it was time to consider one, I freaked out. I was pumped full of drugs, beyond exhausted, and totally emotionally unstable, basically the worst combination to process what felt like such a big loss. Now, two C-sections later, I've been known to sing their praises to whomever will listen (I was lucky and had two really easy recoveries). In retrospect, I wish I would have gone into my first labor with a more open mind about the delivery. The goal, after all, is to have a healthy baby; don't let how he or she arrives ruin your experience. * Not setting boundaries for hospital and home visitors after the birth. Besides asking my mom to stay for the a week after my daughter was born, I never even thought about this one. But after a long, rough delivery, I realized that recovering from major surgery and becoming a mom was overwhelming enough, and the addition of having to make small talk with relatives or worrying about whether I'd need to breastfeed while my father-in-law was in the room was too much for me. Even if you're a person who usually loves being surrounded by people, consider setting some limits for the number of visitors who come to the hospital and your home for the first few weeks and definitely set a time limit for each visit. Also remember that it's not your job to serve anyone or make sure your house is clean. An appropriate response to a visitor request: "We'd love to see you from 12-2 on Thursday, and it would be great if you could bring lunch." * Thinking I'd seamlessly jump back into my old life after my baby was born. After gaining 45 pounds with my daughter, I vividly remember telling my husband I was planning on losing the weight through breastfeeding, hot yoga, and juice cleanses (I'd been doing a lot of the last two before I got pregnant). Then my daughter was born, and I quickly realized I was one of those oh-so-lucky women whose bodies hold on to the last 5-10 pounds during the year-plus I was breastfeeding; that my hot yoga gym had no childcare, making it almost impossible to make a class; and my favorite juice cleanse had a big disclaimer that said "not recommended while breastfeeding" - and those were just a few of the least shocking discoveries I made as a new mom. This isn't one you can really prepare for, but maybe don't sign up for a year-long Bikram membership that starts on your due date or plan to attend your girlfriend's bachelorette party when your baby's six weeks old. Things will change after you become a mom, and you won't know what, how, or why until after delivery. http://bit.ly/2q4ptKB

[themomsandthecity]

4 Stupid Things First-Time Parents Do When Expecting

Now that my kids are 2 and almost 5 (and I've been writing about motherhood for most of their young lives), I'd like to think I've learned a thing or two about parenting babies. But back in 2011, when I was about to give birth to my daughter, I was as clueless as every other first-time mom. Despite the numerous parenting books that lined my nightstand and the hours I spent researching every newborn-related thing I could think of on BabyCenter, I had no idea what kind of crazy, life-changing experience was coming my way - and how stupid some of the first parenting decisions I made truly were. Recently, I attended a baby shower for one of my younger friends, and I was surrounded by pregnant women, glowing with the anticipation of their first child's arrival and a blissful lack of understanding about what they were really getting themselves into. I didn't want to burst their baby-joy bubbles by telling them they didn't really need the wipes warmer or every available stroller attachment, but maybe I should have. While no one can really prepare you for your first baby, let me share a few dumb things I did, so you don't have to repeat my mistakes. * Buying every possible baby item and gadget made. Like many first-time moms, I was convinced I needed everything those online registry lists suggested, including multiple strollers, a bouncer, a swing, a bassinet, a crib, a wipes warmer, a bottle warmer, a million swaddles and sleep sacks, and, of course, a couple of pairs of baby skinny jeans, size 0-3 months. My daughter hated the bouncer and swing, I never used those warmers, and the skinny jeans? The poor girl couldn't bend her chunky legs in them. Now I would tell my former self to buy the bare minimum. One safe place to put the baby down is ample. Trendy gadgets probably aren't necessary. And remember, Amazon and Diapers.com deliver just as fast after the baby's born as they do before, and you'll know much better what you really need once you and your baby get to know each other. * Getting too attached to my birth plan. I never wrote out a birth plan, but I was adamant about not wanting a C-section. So after 16 hours of labor, when my doctor told me I'd only progressed to six centimeters and it was time to consider one, I freaked out. I was pumped full of drugs, beyond exhausted, and totally emotionally unstable, basically the worst combination to process what felt like such a big loss. Now, two C-sections later, I've been known to sing their praises to whomever will listen (I was lucky and had two really easy recoveries). In retrospect, I wish I would have gone into my first labor with a more open mind about the delivery. The goal, after all, is to have a healthy baby; don't let how he or she arrives ruin your experience. * Not setting boundaries for hospital and home visitors after the birth. Besides asking my mom to stay for the a week after my daughter was born, I never even thought about this one. But after a long, rough delivery, I realized that recovering from major surgery and becoming a mom was overwhelming enough, and the addition of having to make small talk with relatives or worrying about whether I'd need to breastfeed while my father-in-law was in the room was too much for me. Even if you're a person who usually loves being surrounded by people, consider setting some limits for the number of visitors who come to the hospital and your home for the first few weeks and definitely set a time limit for each visit. Also remember that it's not your job to serve anyone or make sure your house is clean. An appropriate response to a visitor request: "We'd love to see you from 12-2 on Thursday, and it would be great if you could bring lunch." * Thinking I'd seamlessly jump back into my old life after my baby was born. After gaining 45 pounds with my daughter, I vividly remember telling my husband I was planning on losing the weight through breastfeeding, hot yoga, and juice cleanses (I'd been doing a lot of the last two before I got pregnant). Then my daughter was born, and I quickly realized I was one of those oh-so-lucky women whose bodies hold on to the last 5-10 pounds during the year-plus I was breastfeeding; that my hot yoga gym had no childcare, making it almost impossible to make a class; and my favorite juice cleanse had a big disclaimer that said "not recommended while breastfeeding" - and those were just a few of the least shocking discoveries I made as a new mom. This isn't one you can really prepare for, but maybe don't sign up for a year-long Bikram membership that starts on your due date or plan to attend your girlfriend's bachelorette party when your baby's six weeks old. Things will change after you become a mom, and you won't know what, how, or why until after delivery. http://bit.ly/2nUlnHe