#Review of Cartographers Heroes

[tabletopbellhop]

New Review!

Cartographers Heroes from Thunderworks Games

This fantasy themed roll and write featured a lot more depth than we expected and is quite a challenge to play well.

Note this is a stand alone game fully compatible with everything Cartographers

[boardgoats]

Next Meeting, 18th March 2025

Our next meeting will be on Tuesday 18th March 2025.  As usual, we will start playing shorter games from 7.30pm as people arrive, until 8pm when we will start something a little longer.  The pub is doing food, and the table is booked from 6.30pm for those that would like to eat first. This week, the “Feature Game” will be Cartographers Heroes (rules, review, how to play video), the standalone…

[mediaevalmusereads]

Lord Dashwood Missed Out. By Tessa Dare. Avon

Rating: 4/5 stars

Genre: historical romance, novella

Part of a Series? Yes, Spindle Cove 4.5

Summary: Miss Elinora Browning grew up yearning for the handsome, intelligent lord-next-door…but he left England without a word of farewell. One night, inspired by a bit too much sherry, Nora poured out her heartbreak on paper. Lord Dashwood Missed Out was a love letter to every young lady who’d been overlooked by gentlemen—and an instant bestseller. Now she’s on her way to speak in Spindle Cove when snowy weather delays her coach. She’s forced to wait out the storm with the worst possible companion: Lord Dashwood himself.

George Travers, Lord Dashwood, has traveled the globe as a cartographer. He returned to England with the goal of marrying and creating an heir--only to find his reputation shredded by an audacious, vexingly attractive bluestocking and her poison pen. Lord Dashwood Missed Out, his arse. Since Nora Browning seems to believe he overlooked the passion of a lifetime, Dash challenges her to prove it.

***Full review below.***

Content Warnings: graphic sexual content, blood

Overview: Finishing up the Spindle Cove novellas. What can I say? I'm a completist.

Writing: Dare's prose in this novella is comparable to that of the other installments in this series. It's quick, humorous, clear, and well-balanced, and I don’t have all that much to add to my precious reviews.

Plot: The non-romance plot of this book follows Elinora "Nora" Browning, who finds herself trapped in a snowstorm with her childhood best friend (and crush), George Travers (Lord Dashwood). After Dashwood treats her cruelly and fails to say goodbye before departing in a multi-year sea journey, Nora pens an essay about the fickleness of men and the pressure for women to get married. The essay grants her some amount of fame, enough that the ladies of Spindle Cove have invited her to give a reading and a lecture at their local library. En route to Spindle Cove, Nora finds herself traveling with none other than Dashwood himself, newly returned to England. The two bicker about her essay until suddenly, the carriage slides in the snow and is left useless. While the footman takes the horses to the nearest inn, Nora and Dashwood find shelter in an abandoned cottage, and to their dismay, are left in each other's company until morning.

What I liked about this plot was that the scope felt appropriate for the length. Dare didn't try to fit a novel-length story into a novella, nor did she try to worldbuild so much that the details made the story feel cramped. Instead, Dare relied on the context of Spindle Cove to do most of the work and focused mostly on her characters.

That being said, I don't know if I'd recommend this novella to people who haven't read the rest of the series. It could theoretically stand on its own, but readers will already know most of the characters and their histories if they've read the other books first.

As for things I disliked about this novella, I do think the reveal at the end (Dashwood's role in how the night progressed) felt a bit empty. Without spoiling anything, I will say that I think his role made his emotions throughout the novella feel retroactively insincere, and I would have much rather read a story that came from a place of sincerity. The emotions would have felt a little more richer, at least to me.

Characters: Nora, our heroine, is admirable in that she is unafraid to stick up for herself and is incredibly stubborn. I loved that she refused to compromise on her values and didn't let Dashwood off the hook easily, and I loved that she was unapologetic about her essay.

Dashwood, our hero, was interesting at first because he seemed to be genuinely upset about Nora's essay, and I loved seeing the two clash. While he was quarreling with Nora, it seemed like both of them had understandable reasons for being angry, and I was curious as to how they would work things out. Over time, however, I didn't quite see the appeal of Dashwood as a love interest, and I wished there was more to him than just he was kind to Nora in the past.

Supporting characters almost entirely come from the rest of the Spindle Cove series, and whether or not you like them will depend on whether or not you found them engaging in the other books. Not much work is done to give them any minor character arcs except for the arc between Pauline and Griff, which was simple and light enough not to distract from the main narrative.

Romance: The romance between Nora and Dashwood was simple yet fit the scope of the story. A lot of it relied on the two having a past history, which was explored just enough to feel like it mattered. I appreciated that Dare didn't try to create a situation in which the two met and fell in love in the span of one night; instead, the arc seems to be that they were both already in love with each other yet had a past that needed to be addressed.

I very much enjoyed how the two got under the other's skin. It's not that I like seeing couples fight, but I liked how the characters could provoke feelings of intense emotion without the argument becoming toxic. Instead, the anger that they feel turns from annoyance to hurt to emotional intimacy, and I think Dare did a good job showing how the two finally forced each other to be open with their feelings.

TL;DR: Lord Dashwood Missed Out is notable for its unapologetic heroine and an appropriate scope, creating a plot just complex enough for its length. Romance readers who enjoy tropes such as "lovers trapped together during a snowstorm" and "there's only one bed" will probably enjoy this book, though I wouldn't recommend it if the reader hasn't read the other installments in the series.

[revlyncox]

Origin Stories 2020

The stories we tell about our past affect the way we view the present and orient toward the future. This is true about the myth of Thanksgiving, stories we tell about  Ethical Culture's past, stories we tell about our individual journeys, and more. When we recognize the impact of origin stories, we can be intentional about how we tell them in the future and how they guide us to bring out the best. 

This Platform Address was written for the Washington Ethical Society by Lyn Cox, November 29, 2020. 

Has anyone seen the movie, Captain Marvel? You know I did. Back when going to movie theatres was a safe thing to do, I saw it in the theater. The nostalgia for the music of the mid-1990’s alone was enough to catch my interest. I don’t want to spoil it for those who are waiting for a quiet evening to watch it at home, so I’ll try to speak in general terms.

The movie opens with an interstellar super soldier named Vers, who is having trouble with memory, but nevertheless goes out on a mission with her team, part of the Kree empire. Throughout the movie, she learns more about where she comes from, and more about the origins of the conflict with the people she thought were her enemies. Once she has come around to a different understanding of who her people are, the personal qualities she has been criticized for are reframed, and she can draw from them as strengths. This revised worldview moves her to an entirely different sense of her mission in life, as well as a different sense of connecting and belonging.

The paradigm shift that the main character goes through in Captain Marvel reminds me of the power of origin stories. The stories we tell ourselves about ourselves--as individuals, communities, and countries--affect how we reach out to others and what we think we’re capable of. As we reflect on this holiday weekend, we’re confronted with one version of the origin story of the United States, the one some of us were presented with as children at this time of year. That version of the story is infused with myths and half-truths, and depends on the erasure of the historical and contemporary perspectives of Native Americans, among other groups of people. Whether we are dismantling the settler-colonial narrative, incorporating new insights into our understanding of ourselves as a community, or finding personal empowerment in reframing our individual origin stories, returning to the stories about beginnings or turning points with open minds can help us reshape our future.

Whether we are speaking individually or collectively, origin stories matter. Events get baked into information we regard as fact, or perhaps legend. Left unexamined, these stories can divide people who need not be divided and disempower people who could be living fruitful, generous lives. It matters how we tell those stories. The inclusion of truths or half-truths, and which facts are emphasized or glossed over has an impact. In communal stories, whose perspective is centered makes a difference.The way we understand the narrative structure of the story is also a choice. The good news is that stories can be reframed, even within the bounds of verifiable facts. Origins are not destinies. We can rearrange the emphasis, lift up silenced voices, and find strengths that had previously been minimized. That’s what we’re talking about today. With regard to both individual and collective narratives, (1) Origin stories matter, (2) the way we tell origins stories matters, and (3) stories can be reframed.

Origin Stories Matter

Earlier, we heard an excerpt from a talk by Emily Esfahani Smith. She has done interviews and followed studies in positive psychology, first asking the question about what makes people happy, then shifting to the question of what helps people live meaningful lives. She said, “Creating a narrative from the events of your life brings clarity. It helps you understand how you became you.”

In her review of the available research (excerpt from her book on the TED talk website), she found that the stories people tell about the pivotal events of their lives can affect how they feel about themselves, their level of confidence or anxiety, and what behaviors they choose in the future as they subconsciously live by their stories. I’d like to add a caveat that not everything in our personal narratives is about perspective or attitude; sometimes a person’s anxiety or adaptive behaviors are shaped by oppression, trauma, or other circumstances. Even so, examining our lives for the agency and resilience that we do have gives us some extra tools and is worth a try.

When you add humans together to tell a collective story about the turning points of a community or a movement or a country, origin stories can have an even wider impact. Last month, I drew from An Indigenous People’s History of the United States by Roxanne Dunbar-Ortiz when we discussed Christopher Columbus. In the introduction to her book, in reference to Thanksgiving, Dunbar-Ortiz wrote:

Origin narratives form the vital core of a people’s unifying identity and of the values that guide them. In the United States, the founding and development of the Anglo-American settler-state involves a narrative about Puritan settlers who had a covenant with God to take the land.

Then, in chapter three, Dunbar-Oritz picks up this thread again:

The United States is not unique among nations in forging an origin myth, but most of its citizens believe it to be exceptional among nation-states, and this exceptionalist ideology has been used to justify appropriation of the continent and then domination of the rest of the world.

In other words, Dunbar-Ortiz credits the mythological version of the Thanksgiving story, a particular version of the origin story of the United States, with fueling some of the worst behaviors of the United States and many of its citizens. A story that was framed to make heroes out of the Pilgrims and inspire patriotism has also inspired exploitation, theft, and violence.

Dunbar-Ortiz is not alone in this observation. James W. Loewen, in Lies My Teacher Told Me: Everything Your American history Textbook Got Wrong, also unpacks the Thanksgiving story as an origin myth with devastating consequences.

Loewen says that, in the cases where the Thanksgiving holiday is observed without examination or critique, “the civil ritual” marginalizes Native Americans. That marginalization comes not only from perspective or emphasis, but from actual falsehoods that are re-told in mythic versions of the story. These false myths serve to reinforce what Loewen calls white “ethnocentrism.” He says that when textbooks promote this version of the story, they diminish the capacity of students to understand the culture they are in or how to relate to each other.

At the time of his original writing, the term white supremacy culture was not as widely in use as it is now, but it is apt in this case. The outdated version of the Thanksgiving story idolized the colonizers and erased the humanity of the Indigenous people they encountered. This is both a manifestation of and fuel for white supremacy culture.

We’re finding that, just as our personal origin stories can lead us to make choices so that we live by those stories, national origin stories guide our future behavior. Origin stories matter.

How We Tell Origin Stories Matters

Now that we’ve established that personal and collective origin stories can have an impact on our self-concept and our future choices, let’s talk about how we tell those stories. We have choices in the perspectives and events we emphasize, and in the shape of the narrative arc.

Earlier, we heard a passage from A People’s History of the United States: 1492-Present by Howard Zinn, in which he draws an analogy between historians and mapmakers. Zinn is more generous toward mapmakers or cartographers than I would be, saying that the choices about what projections to use or what details to include in a map are mainly technical. I think maps are much more political than he implies in this comparison, but the point stands that both historians and cartographers have to make choices in conveying information. It is incumbent upon us to examine our purpose in making those choices, and to think about the impact of those choices. How we tell the story matters.

This is where the collective storytelling and the personal storytelling intersect. As we are figuring out how to tell our personal stories, we’re also trying to figure out how we fit into the larger picture. When we are not truthful in our collective stories, we make this task of fitting into the larger story much more difficult for everyone, especially those who have been marginalized. If we have the privilege and responsibility of telling a collective story, we should try to ensure that all of the people in that story are reflected as their whole selves. Incorporating multiple perspectives into our stories makes it easier for the community and for individuals to understand ourselves and to find meaning and purpose.  

My colleague Jone Johnson Lewis from the Riverdale Yonkers Society for Ethical Culture has demonstrated this beautifully in her research about the history and historiography of the Reconstruction era. She notes that narratives of the Civil War and the Reconstruction period that were taught in school for decades do not match the evidence. (Here’s her August 2 Platform Address as a guest at the New York Society.)

Starting in the 1920s, professional historians who were collectively known as the Dunning School were training school teachers to talk about the Civil War as a matter of “states rights,” despite the fact that all of the documents about secession referred to slavery, and the founding of the Confederacy did not allow states to have the right to opt out of slavery. This tradition referred to Reconstruction as a disaster, a burden placed on the South (meaning the white landowners of the South) by opportunistic northerners. The Dunning School presented an egregious misrepresentation of the facts of Reconstruction, and was part of perpetuating the idea that African American people were not capable of self-determination. This view lent support to voter suppression tactics such as literacy tests, and fed racist white resentment that is still an active force in politics today.

The deliberate revisions of the Dunning School were partly the work of David Saville Muzzey. Muzzey was not only a professor of history, but also an Ethical Culture leader. Muzzey wrote a history textbook that was heavily in use from 1927 to 1938, and was source material for textbooks for at least another generation. If we’re going to note the successes of Ethical Culturists throughout history in promoting justice, we also have to examine the ways that Ethical Culturists supported white supremacy culture. By learning from the mistakes of our kindred in the past, we can help prevent ourselves and our successors from repeating them.

According to Jone Johnson Lewis, part of Muzzey’s goal was to tell the story of the United States as a gradually unfolding arc of human rights. Acknowledging the initial flowering of human rights and democracy immediately after the Civil War--before the backlash against Reconstruction led to voter suppression, Jim Crow laws, and the great nadir of civil rights--didn’t work for Muzzey. Being honest about the steps forward and then backward did not match the shape of the gradual arc Muzzey was trying to fit history into, and did not comport with Muzzey’s racist views about what African American leaders and thinkers were capable of. He rejected evidence that did not fit his hypothesis, and because of that, generations of students were taught a false history of the Civil War and Reconstruction.

There are a couple of things we can learn here. We can learn that impact matters more than intention. We learn that stories about a community or culture should include the perspectives of all of the groups in that community or culture. Primary sources from the people who are most deeply affected are important in lifting up a complete history. In our local communities, we should be asking whose voices are missing.

As a point relevant to both collective origin stories and personal origin stories, sometimes the truth that is most important to tell does not follow a smooth narrative arc. Neither our individual lives nor our shared history necessarily follows a three-act structure or a linear path. History does not always make narrative sense even if the events follow a logical sequence of cause and effect. Trying to force our personal or shared history to follow a straight line might lead us to cut off important branches of truth.

Anthropologist Mary Catherine Bateson wrote about how this affects our personal stories in her 1989 book, Composing a Life. (Here’s Bateson in an episode of On Being with Krista Tippett.) She wrote that how we grow and change is less like building a linear brick wall and more like improvisational cooking or quilting, putting a life together with the bits and pieces we have in the time available. Noting that people who have been marginalized don’t have the luxury of being able to hold a singular focus, Bateson said that a non-linear art of living has equal dignity and grace.

How we tell our stories matters. It matters that we include truth. It matters when we include multiple perspectives in a collective story. It matters that we allow our stories to take their natural twists and turns. When it comes to our personal stories, we need not be ashamed when our journeys don’t follow a simple or well-recognized path. Meaning can arise from growth and learning, and we don’t always arrive at growth and learning by the direct route. Realizing that stories need not be linear helps to remind us that it’s not over until it’s over - we are not bound to keep going in what is now the wrong direction. Make some room. How we tell our stories matters.

Stories Can Be Reframed

A corollary to the idea that we can choose how to tell our origin stories is that, at any time, we can choose to reframe those stories. We are not stuck with narratives that are inauthentic. We can emphasize different events and different voices to help us figure out a path for the future.

Taking the myth of Thanksgiving as an example, if we are going to treat it as an origin story for the United States, we can reframe that story by correcting falsehoods and expanding the sources we consult.

In 1970, the Massachusetts Department of Commerce asked the Wampanoag People to select a speaker for a Thanksgiving event to mark the 350th anniversary of the English arrival at Plymouth Rock. Frank James, also known as Wamsutta, had to show the event planners what he had written. The organizers did not allow him to read it, and offered him a different speech, which he refused to read. Instead, Frank James gave his original speech on Cole’s Hill, next to the statue of former Wampanoag leader Ousamequin, to a crowd of supporters. This became the first Day of Mourning, now an annual event of the United American Indians of New England. It was a turning point in the Native American movement in the United States.

James’ speech included this acknowledgement of history:

It is with mixed emotion that I stand here to share my thoughts. This is a time of celebration for you - celebrating an anniversary of a beginning for the white man in America. A time of looking back, of reflection. It is with a heavy heart that I look back upon what happened to my People.

Even before the Pilgrims landed it was common practice for explorers to capture Indians, take them to Europe and sell them as slaves for 220 shillings apiece. The Pilgrims had hardly explored the shores of Cape Cod for four days before they had robbed the graves of my ancestors and stolen their corn and beans.

James goes on from there, addressing more of the history of oppression against Native Americans, the way history was being taught in American schools, and the continued persistence and resilience of the Wampanoag and other Indigenous people.

Remembering that the English colonizers who arrived at Plymouth Rock were not innocent or peaceful, remembering that they committed theft and violence on the original inhabitants of the land both before and after the event that is remembered as the First Thanksgiving, means that we can no longer base a national identity on trying to emulate this origin story. It means we can’t pretend ignorance and wonder where it all went wrong when we look at the atrocities committed in the name of the United States in the intervening 400 years. But it also means we have a choice about what to do differently. We can commit to not repeating the past. We can learn to tell our stories differently. The history of Frank James and the first Day of Mourning is incorporated in materials for the 400th anniversary of the landing at Plymouth Rock. An origin is not a destiny.

Collectively, we are the authors of the future of our communities and our nation. Individually, as Emily Esfahani Smith reminds us, we are the authors of our own stories. As we heard earlier, “Your life isn’t just a list of events. You can edit, interpret, and re-tell your story, even as you are constrained by the facts.”

Just as with the process of updating our collective stories, reframing our personal stories may be hard, even painful. We will have to face uncomfortable truths. Yet out of those truths, we may find an ability to learn and grow, a sense of meaning and purpose, and capacity for acceptance and compassion that comes from whole-hearted experience. By changing the emphasis of our stories, we may find a call to service, or a desire to make amends, or a sense of connection with those who share a similar experience. The power to reframe our stories is in our hands.

Conclusion

The stories of our beginnings as individuals, as communities, and as a nation have power. They can move us toward compassion and connection, or they can move us toward division and disrespect. But that power is not absolute. We can take responsibility for comparing those stories with the available evidence, and for examining the story from a variety of perspectives. We can reframe a story as we learn from both mistakes and successes, seeking purpose amidst the patchwork of love and care that sustains the best in us and in those around us. May it be so for each and all.

[ahb-writes]

Book Review: ‘Skeleton Knight in Another World’ #6

Skeleton Knight in Another World (Light Novel) Vol. 6 by Ennki Hakari My rating: 5 of 5 stars SKELETON KNIGHT. . .#6 is the good stuff. Following a pair of more modestly paced and vaguely adventurous exploits, the author has given readers a delightful heaping of all the good geopolitical shenanigans, grisly demon encounters, and god-tier magic battles that have made this series what it is. Arc and his crew have journeyed to the nearby intersection of the Kingdom of Salma and the Nohzan Kingdom -- a quilt-work of land set to buckle under the might of monstrous invaders. The search is on. Can the crew successfully retrace the steps of the since departed Sasuke, former ninja ally of Chiyome? Will the crew survive a tenacious encounter with yet another band of undead monsters, this time clearly functioning under the control of a higher-tier noble? And what about their unwritten quest to heal the socio-political relations between humans and non-humans? Can Arc find a way to bring together disparate groups so as to take out a common enemy before these incongruent groups take out each other?

SKELETON KNIGHT #6 is fun but hosts a few missed opportunities. In the previous installment, Arc killed Cardinal Charros Accedia Industria. Sadly, no such luck in this volume, despite readied opportunity.

Readers who enjoy the wayward and accidental nature of Arc's adventures will enjoy this volume for how it neatly aligns the group's ambitions with the needs of secondary characters. And while it's certainly a bit annoying and more than a little redundant for Arc to refuse to turn down aid to anyone who requests it (whether healing a knight with a severed arm or escorting a princess on the lam), one cannot deny how helpful these interactions are to the novel's overall mechanics. Arc, Ariane, and Chiyome become increasingly entangled in the affairs of others for better or for worse, but they'll never back down from a chance to fight their way out. SKELETON KNIGHT. . .#6 is fun but hosts a few missed opportunities. The novel more solidly positions the Holy Hilk Kingdom and its ruling class of monsters and zealots (in both senses, quite literal) as the bad guys. However, the novel stops well short of giving the heroes the evidence they need to go and crash the party. Similarly, readers get an extraordinarily intimate glimpse into how some of these zealots live their lives, and yet, the novel again stops short of enabling Arc to deal out some justice. In the previous installment, Arc killed Cardinal Charros Accedia Industria. Sadly, no such luck in this volume, despite readied opportunity. SKELETON KNIGHT. . .#6 delivers on several good, small, narrative amusements (e.g., Ariane's deepening crush, Arc's poor sense of direction, raw swords-and-sorcery violence), while largely avoiding the novel series' known trappings (e.g., excessive worldbuilding, sexist character descriptions, obvious/ineffective character development). If on a fault-finding mission, one might mention how the book's maps still suck (here, a cartographical retcon). And one might also mention how the series artist drew a character of color with the same skin tone as all the rest, despite the author having described the female knight, Niena, as being "brown-skinned, black-eyed [. .] with long, black hair tied back in a waist-length braid" (p. 12) and having "a feminine face with strong, stark features, brown skin, and piercing eyes" (p. 169). Even so, the current volume is a step up and the story's structure ensures the payoff is worth it. The book's third act culminates with an impressive exhibition of Arc's magical expertise and makes good on a well-paced and smartly written conflict. Notably, the conflict itself further integrates another young, warm-hearted, female head of state into the mythology and legend of Arc the mercenary.

Light-Novel Book Reviews || ahb writes on Good Reads

[valasania-the-pale]

The Last Rose - Chapter Three

Sorry for the delay, college decided to be a bit of a pain in the ass these last few weeks. Hope you all enjoy, please read and leave a review!

Disclaimer: I don't own RWBY, I'm just playing in the sandbox.

X_0_X

Her Uncle leaned on Harbinger, the weapon transformed into its scythe configuration. The snath didn’t even bend underneath his not-inconsiderable mass, such was the skill that had gone into its construction. “So, kiddo. You’ve got your pig-sticker. And you’ve got me out here to teach you how to use it.” His head tilted to the side. “Do you even know what you’re asking?”

“I know, Uncle Qrow,” Ruby would not be deterred.

She had the will, she had the means, and now she had the weapon to match. She would have her teacher if she had to beg on her knees for it.

She twirled her newly-completed scythe – still no name, she hadn’t though of something fitting yet – and waited, hoping he would see something in her that would ease the thoughtful furrow of his brow.

“Heh…” he took a swig from his flask.

Ruby’s nose wrinkled in disgust as the stench prickled her senses.

“You’ve got the moxie for it too, I guess,” he chuckled, finally, his hard red eyes observing her silver, reading her. “But that ain’t the question I’m asking. Why do you want to be a huntress, Ruby? Honest answer here, this isn’t a fairy tale or some kid’s story – why should I teach you how to wield that thing?”

…

I want to help people – I’ve always wanted to help people.

To be the hero in the stories, slaying monsters, saving the day and bringing hope to a world where hope is fragile.

I want to be like my mom was, before she died. Or my dad was, before depression started eating him alive. Or even my uncle, before he started hiding from his demons in the depths of a bottle.

Being a hero… being the best person I can be - that is the standard I’ve tried to live by throughout my entire career from start to finish.

Unfortunately, slaying monsters is the easy part. I’ve never been very good at helping myself.

X_0_X

“Are you waiting for the ball to grow legs and move itself, Yatsu?” Velvet Scarlatina playfully called from her seat.

The imposing huntsman rolled his eyes at her, still circling the pool table to find the perfect vantage point for his next move. He’d done the same thing the last time it had been his turn, and the one before that – Velvet figured that if he’d been the one to break, he’d have considered his options for several minutes there as well.

Coco nudged her from the side, smirking overly wide when Velvet glanced over. Velvet sniffed. Bitch. So what if she’d drawn the short straw when it came to teams? Fox didn’t waste his time pretending to know what he was doing, sure, but he couldn’t predict shots for shit…

Finally finding his angle, Yatsuhashi leaned over the table, pool cue in hand. Velvet’s lips quirked up at the sight; the man was so big, his shadow covered nearly half the table.

“Don’t you dare start chalking up again, Yatsu,” Coco snarked.

“Impatience is no virtue, Coco.” The giant of a man didn’t even seem phased by her taunt.

He drew back, and the satisfying clack of colliding stone filled the air. “He’s going to sink one of ours, Vel,” Coco observed.

“Shut up! He is not!”

Seconds later and one enemy three-ball pocketed, Coco grinned smugly and sashayed over to claim her spot around the table. Long ears falling flat over her head, Velvet commiserated with her teammate as he plunked down into Coco’s chair.

“It’s alright, Yatsu. You know she just makes us play ‘cause she knows we all suck at this game.” She patted him on his heavy shoulder.

Yatsuhashi merely pouted.

Fox grinned widely at the two from his table, sketching away in his journal. Probably working on his shading again… He tried so hard to be the team’s cartographer-slash-chronicler, but if Velvet was being brutally honest, he wasn’t very good at it.

Well, maybe even that was too nice. Fox just kind of sucked at drawing, not that anyone was terribly surprised. Nobody else wanted to do it though, and he lost that bet with Yatsuhashi, who got tricked into it by Coco, so it was his job now.

What was it that Oobleck had called them when they showed up for class with half-baked sketches for their homework? ‘Functionally cooperative?’

Didn’t matter. Fox could smirk all he wanted. She was still the best at rhythm games by far, not this stupid bar game.

As Coco leaned over to take her shot, mouth thinning into a tight line, Velvet perked up as the door to the door loudly slid open – a stone-faced Mistral official marched in, barely pausing to shut it behind him.

That usually wasn’t good – this bar was well-known for the huntsmen that frequented it. If Mistral was bothering them this late at night, it meant something important was afoot. Her chocolate colored eyes flickered over the various faces throughout the room. Huntsmen, huntresses, some of them here in teams and some alone.

Perhaps two dozen wary eyes fixed on the official, measuring, anticipating what trouble he’d bring to their lives today.

Coco plopped herself down in her seat as her streak came to an end, handing off her cue to Velvet. Her interest waned quickly as she returned her attention to the table, now several solids short of where it had been a minute ago.

Damnit Coco…

At the bar, the owner was in deep, rapid conversation with the official. She tuned them out. They’d probably make an announcement to the bar in a second.

Velvet drew her arm back, tongue stuck out the corner of her mouth. She’d been left an easy opening this time – she could make this, sure thing.

“You said Ruby Rose?”

Mid-thrust, Velvet jerked. The cue ball clacked against the bumper, sailed off into the wrong direction and soundly pocketed the eight ball. She blinked, momentarily astounded by her bad luck - She wasn’t that bad at pool! – before whirling around to pay much closer attention to the exchange.

The barkeep was pale – well, paler than usual. Mistrallans didn’t usually have much color to begin with this far north… His hands wrung together, face a scrunched up, mess of worry. All around, the other huntsmen watched with carefully guarded interest.

They all knew Ruby. Who didn’t? The little reaper had a reputation, after all. Everything she was involved in either made for great stories, or great trouble. That was also to say nothing of the fact that she was probably on friendly terms with almost everyone in the room.

Another moment passed before the official finally cottoned onto the attention he’d drawn. He shot a questioning look at the barkeep. Getting a nod in return, the man stepped forward.

“Huntsmen, you know that the Mistral Council prefers not to interrupt your valued time between assignments,” he began, voice raised despite the entire room falling silent to listen. “Unfortunately, a situation has arisen that necessitates our action.”

The man pulled a sleek-looking scroll from his pocket and handed it to the barkeep. “Hours ago, one of our airships returned from an assignment down south without the two huntsmen it was supposed to be retrieving, as well as one of its pilots. The remaining operator has provided us with footage of why this is.”

A large holographic screen appeared off to the side – specifically installed for these sorts of situations. Velvet glanced at her team apprehensively while they waited for the image to buffer.

Yatsuhashi and Fox wore identical grim expressions, leaning forward in their seats with hands held stiffly in their laps. Fox’s fingers twitched erratically as he restrained his need to move and be active. Coco merely leaned back in her own chair, arms crossed behind her head and features perfectly blank.

Velvet squirmed. How was Ruby caught up in this? She’d heard her friend had been taking smaller missions lately. Nothing that should lead to the Council’s intervention.

The image finally loaded, the feed grainy and indistinct.

Whatever camera it came from was obviously loaded onto some sort of drone – Fox usually carried theirs around when they chose to use it. The perspective constantly vibrated and shifted as the wind picked up and changed directions.

A village in flames. Smoke rising from the ruins, masking most of the scene. What little was visible was hellish – houses crumbling under their own weight as support beams charred through and dissolved, broken stone toppling over, and the aside from the flames devouring everything in reach, a dreadful stillness unnatural for the relatively large settlement.

But then a tiny figure in a distinctive scarlet, hooded cloak stepped into the large open courtyard, carrying a scythe longer than they were tall.

Velvet felt her lips press into a line, fingers clenching the arms of her chair. Ruby.

Something else entered the frame – previously covered by the smoke. She had to restrain herself from blanching. Grimm that large were extremely rare, and often frighteningly powerful. The picture was so bad she couldn’t quite tell what its species was, but the thick armor distributed around its body was more than enough to confirm her fears.

An Ancient had surfaced in Mistral.

And Ruby was going to fight it. Had fought it already.

Velvet hoped her friend had better sense than that and ran.

The bar was mostly silent, save for the hushed whispers making the rounds as huntsmen moved toward their teams. Already, there were plans circulating. How to kill such a powerful specimen of Grimm, what sort of weapons would be needed. Rumors as well, abilities, its species, strengths, weaknesses. All things huntsmen would want to know.  

In the video, the drone hovered, getting as clear an image as it could as Ruby faced off with the beast.

‘Oh dust, this has to have happened hours ago. Is she alright? Is she even alive?’

Ruby suddenly vanished, becoming nothing but a faint scarlet blur. Her scythe slashed at the Ancient, once, twice - three times to stave off an angry swipe, and then the huntress was backing away to avoid further retaliation, then turning into a whirlwind of blurring steel and rose petals. Velvet grimaced at the sight. The beast was barely fazed by the assault… Ruby was so tiny compared to it…

Velvet’s heart skipped a beat as Ruby abruptly froze in place, her legs anchored to the ground by something shadowy – what the hell were they? Some sort of subterranean Grimm? She freed herself swiftly, but Ruby had nowhere to escape as the Ancient bore down on her.

“No…” she whispered as Ruby’s hasty escape attempt was brutally punished. The camera suddenly panned away toward an approaching airship, just too slow to hide the distinctive flare-and-flicker of scarlet light around Ruby as she crashed into a crumbling house.

“The video was taken by one Bai Long,” the official spoke up once the video ended. “He had time to transmit the feed to the airship before he and his partner, Reed Bryce joined the huntress in the fight. Though it has yet to be officially confirmed, it is highly likely that she is indeed Ruby Rose – her last mission puts her near the area, and the appearances match up.”

“The Council believes that thing is Ancient?” A dark-haired huntsman spoke up from a booth on the other side of the room. His face was inscrutable.

“Correct. The Huntsmen’s Guild has already issued a Class Eight Search and Destroy mission, if Miss Rose and Misters Long and Bryce have not already eliminated it.”

“That thing isn’t going down without planning and firepower.” Another huntress leaned forward. “I know Bai and Reed – they’re strong, but even with the Reaper’s help they’re not going to kill an Ancient in one go.”

“How many teams is the mission asking for? Or is it solo?”

“Fuck the mission board, anyone who thinks that one team is going to be enough to kill that thing is suicidal.”

Velvet tuned out from the conversation, pulse speeding up to match her rising anxiety. The game was forgotten behind her as she rose to her feet and gracefully wove her way between several tables.

With huntsmen now looking at their scrolls for more details or huddling together to discuss the assignment, the Mistrallan official now sat down tiredly at the bar to nurse a glass of gin. Velvet cleared her throat anxiously to catch his attention.

Two sets of eyes, one set and tired, the other flecked by worry, locked onto her. Deep breaths Velvet, these people aren’t going to yell or laugh at you…

“Yes, Miss…?”

“Scarlatina,” she answered, shelving her worry. She was a huntress, damnit. “I was wondering if there was anything more you could tell me about Ruby?”

“Nothing much to say, unfortunately,” the official admitted. “We have only that footage to go off of. Huntsman Long took his drone with him into the fight, and our airships have limited range, to say nothing of the smoke covering up everything.”

The barkeep cut in, staring at Velvet. “You don’t think she was seriously hurt, do you?”

She belatedly realized that showing so much visible worry probably didn’t give the man much hope for Ruby’s wellbeing – she’d know better than he after all, being a huntress herself.

“I… no, I don’t think so,” she said, forcing her hands to relax. “But I can’t say for sure. That was a pretty bad hit and seeing her aura flicker like that isn’t good. If Ruby got away fast enough she’ll be fine.”

The man looked troubled.

Curiosity flared. Velvet had to ask. “Do you know her?”

“Ruby?” He seemed surprised. “‘Course. I swear, that girl is the only one who remembers my name sometimes. Probably helps that she never orders anything that’ll make her forget it, but still.” The man scowled. “’Sides, I served her uncle more times than I can count. Heard stories about her for years from him, before he dropped off the map.”

“Oh.” Velvet suddenly realized she had no idea what the man’s name was, despite frequenting the bar for several years. “I… uh. I’m sorry to hear that, sir.”

Was she supposed to ask his name now? She could write it down for the future – but didn’t that defeat the purpose of remembering it anyways, since she’d just be chea- no! She had a reason for coming over here!

“Right,” Velvet shook off the mental tangent and met the official’s grey eyes. “Is there anything being done to retrieve Ruby and the others, then?”

He nodded. “Search and Rescue mission. Class five, given how dangerous the Grimm is supposed to be. Almost got ranked higher, but you wouldn’t be asked to fight anyways, just get them out.”

His lips pursed. “To be honest, the Council doesn’t have high hopes for their survival unless they got away as quickly as possible. The mission is unclaimed though – there’s already an airship getting itself ready for departure in a few hours.”

Velvet nodded rapidly. “I – We, I need to go talk to my team about it real fast, just wait here.”

“Don’t worry about it, Vel.”

She twisted on the spot. Coco’s shades had slid down her nose, warm brown eyes crinkling sympathetically at her as the fashionista cocked her hip just slightly to the side. “You don’t really think we’d pass this up when it means so much to you, hm?”

She flushed. “I, well, thought you’d be excited to go on a mission to kill an Ancient, you know?” the faunus stammered.

Coco sniffed. “There’ll always be Ancients. Friends are a bit more important than that – and Ruby’s a friend, even if she hates going clothes shopping with us.”

“I’ll go get our stuff ready!” Fox called over, picking up on their intent. He was already jogging toward the door.

Yatsuhashi merely nodded to her from his seat, sending her an encouraging thumbs-up as an afterthought.

Velvet could feel her heart warm, filled to bursting with her gratitude. “Thanks Coco,” she said in a tiny voice. Her partner smirked.

“Anytime, Vel. But. You owe me another game of pool – a full game, so I can kick your cute little ass as thoroughly as it deserves.”

“I don’t suck that badly at pool!”  

“I guess you’ll just have to proooove it~”

It was several minutes before their squabbling could come to an end – Coco efficiently moving through the mission sign-up provided by the official while deftly countering each and every protest Velvet made. When they finished, Yatsuhashi joining them in the process, they left quickly, Velvet’s smile just a bit wider around the edges after the barkeep waived their tab for the night.

It didn’t do much to assuage her nervousness and worry – and by the pallor he carried, the man felt the same – but it was a kindness.

Her eyes closed briefly as she pulled on her huntress’ garb, willing her thoughts to reach her friend.

‘We’re coming, Ruby.’

X_0_X

The village burned below her CORPSES littering the ground, battered, lifeless, bloody puddles EVERYWHERE. Fire, always hungry, raced through the crippled settlement, devouring everything in reach as creatures of GRIMM roamed freely through the village.

A twist of the hand. A finger on the trigger, pulling, letting gravity pull her to the ground as her now-bisected mount tumbled through the air. She landed on her feet, crushed stone rattling across the cobblestone, scythe held tightly in her hands.

EYES. Burning red eyes, all trained on her. The Grimm surged forward, Crescent Rose slashing slicing dicing Grimmflesh like it was nothing, THEY were nothing and deserved her fury for what they’d DONE here. With every kill she felt the fire burn brighter within her. She would AVENGE them all reap the soulless beings who had KILLED all these people and introduce HER own justice to this eternal conflict.

The village burned. It shook. A new foe appeared. Fire licked her as the Berengal threw her away. Eating at her. Her legs. She burned. Something was WRONG. Why did it hurt so much…? This hadn’t happened before the world was shaking whywasthisnothappeninglikeshereme-

“Huntress! Wake, please!”

Ruby surged awake with a gasp, body still aflame with the dream.

All was quiet save for the merrily crackling fire just a few feet away. For a brief moment she stared, looking back in time to see the shapes crumpled amongst the ashes. Faces twisted in a gruesome rictus. Darkness amidst the surging light, bright embers substituting for hateful eyes.

She shook her head thoroughly, grimacing as her leg pulsed angrily where the poison ate into her flesh.

“Miss Rose?”

Right. Her companion.

“Is something wrong?” she asked warily.  

He certainly looked like something was wrong. Shoulders tense, arms held tightly to his sides, the pilot – Kohroku, he’d told her - exuded nervousness tangible enough that the hair on her arms prickled up instinctively.

“The howling. It has been growing louder and closer,” he said, a deep frown on his face.

Ruby sat up. Their flight from Horikiri had already been troubled enough by the Colossus, what with the vines erupting at random from the ground to attack them. While before they’d been a nuisance – tools used and thrown away to delay or distract her from the more important danger the Grimm itself posed – without her aura protecting her she was hard pressed to avoid having her legs snared and crushed by their powerful grip.

But worse were the lesser Grimm attracted to the negativity and destruction of such a large settlement. The Colossus might have claimed the lion’s share of victims, but Grimm were more than happy to pursue refugees at their most vulnerable.

They were hunters at heart but weren’t averse to scavenging their kills.

By the pitch she’d observed earlier, she was certain they’d picked up a pack of Beowolves. Normally she wouldn’t have been worried about such weak Grimm. Without her aura, however, fighting an entire pack was dangerous, almost tantamount to suicide.

The huntress closed her eyes, listening. Bright orange seeped through her eyelids from the fire. She didn’t let it distract her.

…

Ah.

There it was. Loud, piercing, and tinged with the fury unique to Grimm on the prowl. Kohroku was right, they were much closer now. And their numbers had swollen to several dozen, if the amount of replies the call received was anything to go by.

“You’re right,” she said finally, loosening her focus. “We’ll have to get moving in a few hours.”

“Not now?”

“No. Surprised?” Ruby smiled wanly. “They’re closer, but still miles off and not moving very fast right now. They’ll probably bed down for the night soon.”

“I see.”

He didn’t. The tension in his shoulders spoke louder than his words ever could. Something hung over him like a dark cloud, screening his true feelings from her. He sat in front of the fire to warm his hands, staring deep into the flames.

Too alert to sleep now, Ruby regarded the Mistrallan curiously. Now that they weren’t fighting or running for their lives through miles of wilderness, her bemusement from much earlier returned…

Nothing for it.

“Why are you here?” she asked bluntly.

“I… pardon?”

“The fight earlier. Why would you jump into it? You’re a pilot, not a huntsman,” she pointed out. “You might have aura, but you don’t have the training to use it in combat. Why join a fight like that?”

He shifted on the spot, pulling his knees up to his chest, khakis reflecting the flickering light and shadow. His expression twisted into something troubled.

That wouldn’t do. She scooted closer to grasp his shoulder, giving him a tight squeeze when he looked at her askance. Silver eyes glinted kindly. “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to, I’m just curious.”

He tried to shake her off, but it was halfhearted at best. “No, you deserve an answer. It’s just that… I hate – I…” Kohroku trailed off, eyes closing as he gathered his thoughts. Ruby’s smile dimmed, but she waited, lending him some strength through her touch.

Several minutes passed in silence, until it was broken.

“Horikiri was not the first town I have seen burn,” the pilot admitted finally. “Not even the second, nor the third… Sometimes I am bringing huntsmen to clean up the Grimm, sometimes I am finding a safe spot to land so that I can rescue survivors. It is always the same – tears or stoicism or anger, everything past the smoke is pain. When I saw you down there, and the others jumping down to help...”

Ruby felt a twinge in her stomach, her eyes squeezing shut as echoes of her dream played across her mind’s eye.

“I am not a councilor to make laws that protect people, or a doctor to cure people of their hurts and ills,” he continued, voice dipping low. “Nor a huntsman for others to look up to. I want to help people, but am I doing the most I can, just being an airship pilot?”

“You think you could be doing more.”

“Yes! I have my aura unlocked. Perhaps with more training I could even discover my semblance. I…” Kohroku sighed, and Ruby empathized with the tired look on his face. “I am tired of feeling useless in the face of suffering.”

The Beowolves howled again, backdrop to the nocturnal hum of the forest and the gentle crackling of the flames. Ruby let the moment hang, several minutes passing by as both immersed themselves deep in introspection.

Did she understand how Kohroku felt? In the cordoned section of her heart she kept under tight reign, lest it corrode her will to act, she did. Impotence was a huntress’ bane, the reason they trained their bodies and minds so rigorously every single day. Ruby hadn’t considered before how it must feel for the other people involved in their vocation; pilots like Kohroku, or the relief workers sent into villages to help them recover from failed raids, or any of the dozens of others tasked with keeping the Grimm at bay.

She was a huntress, always at the head of the action or, these days, working alone. She might talk to the people she worked beside; get to know them and develop a rapport, but none of those bonds had ever developed enough for her to hear of such personal demons, to look behind the curtain…

Time to change that.

“Twelve years ago, Beacon fell,” she said suddenly, startling her companion. “I was just a freshman then. The girl killed in the tournament was one of my best friends… Penny Polendina… When the real fighting started, so many of the people I knew, civilian and huntsman alike, were hurt or killed by Grimm or the White Fang or the Atlesian mechs rampaging through the city. I fought as hard as I could, but… a lot of the time, it wasn’t enough.”

Ruby scooped up a hand of the soft earth, appreciating the cool dampness as it crumbled through her fingers. “Later, my… partner… and I were searching for two of our friends who’d gone missing. We found one – Jaune – but he’d been separated from his partner. I ran ahead once we knew where she was, but I was too late. She died the moment after I found her, killed by the woman who orchestrated it all…”

“Huntress, I--”

“I never felt more helpless in my life than in that moment,” Ruby interrupted forcefully. “When I saw my team, they were crippled or shattered. My friends… they were dead, or grieving. My family was confused and scrambling for some way to help make everything better in the aftermath.”

She turned to look the pilot directly in the eyes, her own silver blazing brightly. “Those feelings didn’t go away.” The earth disappeared in her clenched fist. “But I kept fighting. Horikiri isn’t the first village I’ve seen destroyed either. It won’t be the last time I’m too slow to save the day.”

“You’ve done great things though!” Kohroku protested. “You’ve saved hundreds of people, killed countless Grimm! You’re the Reaper, scourge of Mistral’s bandit tribes – one of the greatest huntresses alive!”

“Being the Reaper didn’t help anyone in that village,” Ruby rebuffed. “But that’s not my point. I’ve failed a lot, in my life. Too slow, too weak, too tired, or too late.”

She jabbed a finger into his chest. He jerked backwards. “That doesn’t make the people I did save worthless. You think you can do more to help people? Fine. We can always do better. But the work you’ve done up to this point hasn’t been wasted; I’m sure there are dozens of people grateful that you were there for them in their time of need… You should be proud of that.”

A long moment passed as she glared into his shocked, steel-grey eyes. Ruby saw something click as her message got through to him. His expression softened in understanding, a tiny smile quirking his lips upwards.

“I see your meaning,” the pilot said reflectively. “Pilot or huntsman, we all face failure. I am a fool for thinking my work useless or inadequate for not achieving perfection.”

Ruby smiled. “Spoken like a true Mistrallan.”

He chuckled. “Indeed.”

Her fists loosened, earth dropping to the ground. She wiped her hand against her leg, scooting away to give him his space. Glancing up, she saw that the moon was still high in the sky. “You should get some sleep,” she said kindly.

“It is still my watch, Huntress.”

She shook her head. “I’m not tired right now. Might as well let you rest.”

She was tired, actually. Exhausted. But she doubted she’d find any sleep tonight.

“You are sure?” Though concerned for her, she could see his eyes flitting toward the makeshift bedroll they’d made for him.

She waved him off with a smile, tucking her chin up on her knee. The pilot was quick to tuck himself underneath the covers, his breathing slowing into the regular cadence of slumber mere minutes after.

Alone at last, Ruby sighed.

She hadn’t lied to the man. Every life was worth it – she’d never be able to go on as a huntress if she didn’t truly believe so. Their work benefited countless people, giving them the opportunity to live and find their own happiness. But…

Within the flames, hidden amidst the coals and embers, eyes bright and accusing stared back at her, and she couldn’t help but doubt.

X_0_X

Sun’s anxiety was starting to rub off on him.

“—knew things would go wrong when she took that mission…”

Scarlet David shot a sideways glance toward his partner Sage. They’d just ushered out the representative from the Mistral council, silently expressing their gratitude while Sun ranted in the background.

“—should have said something…!”

They’d returned to the kitchen amidst the clamor, Sun’s voice cracking like it hadn’t since their years at Haven. Scarlet eyed the stain on the far wall with trepidation, ceramic shards littering the floor: the remains of a mug of cocoa Scarlet brewed for Sun while the official delivered his message. At the table, Sage scowled into his cereal, deep in thought while they processed the news.

At least, Scarlet would be processing the news if he didn’t have to listen to the increasingly-loud, increasingly-hysterical dulcet tones of their team leader.

His partner’s fingers clenched around his spoon, unnatural strength gifted to him by his semblance beginning to warp the weak metal. If Scarlet didn’t intercede soon then more things were going to break and this time, he’d need more than a broom and dustpan to clean it all up…

“Sun,” Scarlet cut in finally, grimacing as bloodshot eyes snapped toward him. Sun’s posture screamed Hostile in a way he was deeply uncomfortable with seeing directed his way. Suddenly putting an end to his tirade seemed much more daunting. “I…”

No, idiot! Don’t lose it now! His hands wrung underneath the table. “Ruby’s going to be okay. You know that, right?”

Scarlet berated himself. Stupid! ‘What kind of weak comfort was that?!’

“No, I don’t, and you… don’t know either, Scarlet,” Sun snapped. The blonde swayed on the spot, hand rising to his temple briefly. Scarlet’s lips thinned. Sun hadn’t been sleeping well for days, even after Ruby forced him to lay down. “You… and me, we don’t know shit right now, we…” Sun’s face twisted, his eyes widening slightly. Scarlet could read the signs of vertigo as easily as if they were emblazoned in neon.

Scarlet was out of his seat instantly, slinging an arm around Sun’s torso as his legs failed him. Scarlet lowered his teammate to the floor slowly, allowing the blonde’s forehead to rest on his shoulder.

The faunus was still muttering to himself as Scarlet eased him into a seated position, back to the wall with his head between his knees. Scarlet was all business; checking his pulse, temperature, and anything else he could think of. Sage joined him, holding Sun’s shoulder steady. The spoon he’d been using was a twisted mess in his other, clenched, fist.

“…can’t…” Sun muttered faintly.

Sage growled angrily. “He needs sleep.”

“I know, Sage.”

“Well why can’t he fucking do it then! He’s been laying down for hours!”

Scarlet frowned at his partner, shoving down the same thoughts brewing in the back of his mind guiltily. “He’s got a condition Sage. It’s not his fault.”

“I know! I just…” the spoon clattered on the wood flooring. Sage ran his hand through his hair, expression tight with frustration. “Dust, Scarlet, he’s killing himself like this.”

Sun continued to mumble, eyes focused on nothing. Scarlet watched his leader sorrowfully, wishing he could do more. He didn’t have any answers for Sage; his partner spoke to their shared fears.

What if Sun died? What would they do? Losing Neptune nearly destroyed them all, and Scarlet knew that losing Sun would be even worse. Every time they went out on assignments it lingered in the back of his mind: would this be the moment Sun made a fatal mistake? Would all that missed sleep finally do him in?

All it took was a moment of inattention. A moment of dull reflexes. He and Sage couldn’t be there all the time, watching his back. Their work didn’t allow it.

Worse, he had no answers for Sun either. Not until Ruby got back alive and well. The alternative…

He didn’t like thinking about that.

“Look,” Scarlet breathed out through his nose. “Sun’s not going to get anything done like this. If you bring him to his room, we can have him take a few of those pills the doctor gave him. I’ll go over to Ruby’s place and get it ready for her to come back so he doesn’t freak out.”

“You know he hates those things.”

Don’t remind him. “They fuck him up, and he won’t be able to go on assignments for a few days after, but he’s going to hurt himself or start really messing with his body if we don’t do something,” Scarlet countered. “I’ll take the heat if he blows up about it later.”

The dark-haired man considered it, a fearsome scowl contorting his features, before he gave in with a sigh. “Fine. I’ll keep an eye on him and make sure he stays put.” Sage lifted Sun into a bridal carry, adjusting the weight with a grunt. “When you’re done, can you give the doctor a call and give him an update?”

“Done.” Scarlet got to his feet, already going over a short list in his head of what he’d need to do at Ruby’s before returning home. Before Sage left with him, he gave Sun’s wrist a quick squeeze, which went completely ignored as the faunus continued muttering to himself.

It was dark outside when Scarlet stepped out of the house, the moon and its many satellites glowing silver-white against the void. He shivered, tucking his hands deep into his pockets against the cold, wondering if Ruby was stuck out in the wild in the middle of this kind of weather.

He wasn’t close with the little reaper – not like Sun was – but she made a point of befriending everyone she could, and he’d been among the first she’d sought out in Mistral when she immigrated from the newly-recovered city of Vale. Friends of Sun were friends of hers, she’d said.

He and Sage had shared bemusement that such a tiny, tired-looking slip of a girl could be the charismatic leader Sun had described her as… until they challenged her to a fight and got their asses handed to them on a silver platter.

Scarlet now had a healthy respect for that murder-scythe she had – unironically – nicknamed ‘Sweetheart.’ Sage even had a faint scar across his back from his short-lived duel with the girl, where she’d cloven through his aura after wearing him down with her – frankly unfair – speed and avoidance tactics.

A loss was a loss, however, and both he and Sage had quickly gotten over their disappointment once they realized just how sweet a person Ruby was. She was kind, too. Confident. Friendly. Sociable… and just like his leader, damaged.

He saw it in the little slips she made; the flash of naked emotion when she heard the wrong music, the topics they’d learned to avoid bringing up, the late nights she and Sun would share together, just talking or texting, when sleep was elusive… Scarlet knew what it was like to lose a teammate. He could relate to her loss and admired her tenacity and will to move forward… it was inspiring to see in person.

But she was damaged in a way he couldn’t help. Just like Sun.

As he unlocked the door to her home, using the key he’d borrowed from Sun’s ring (itself foisted on him by the energetic reaper), Scarlet could only hope he wasn’t cleaning up for someone who would never arrive.

X_0_X

In the grey pre-dawn light, they cleared up their makeshift camp in record time.

Ruby’s eyes burned with fatigue as she crammed her bedroll into her pack, rolling it over her shoulders and tightening down the straps. Nearby, Kohroku fiddled with his dirtied uniform, eyes bright and alert. He’d snapped awake the moment she’d touched his shoulder, sunrise only minutes away.

They’d scarfed down a cold breakfast; jerky and dried fruit with a few precious mouthfuls of water to sate their appetites. Her leg complained all the while, the bandages probably needing to be changed, but there was no time.

She gave the distress beacon, retrieved from Kohroku’s survival kit the night before, one more examination to make sure it was still working. Check.

Map. Pouches. Crescent Rose. Heron. Pocket-knife. Canteen. All check.

“Let’s go,” Ruby said brusquely, just before the sky lit up with the sun’s arrival.

They froze momentarily, adjusting to the change in the light. Then, howls split the air, far too close. Ruby had hoped to put a few miles distance between them and the Grimm before they’d awaken, but she’d let the pilot sleep too long.

If they died for her mistake…

“Huntress?”

“I said let’s go!” she barked, ignoring her trepidation and breaking into a measured jog. Kohroku joined her, matching her pace easily with experience born of military training. It was a pace designed to eat up the miles with a minimum of rest. On her injured leg, Ruby knew it wasn’t sustainable in the long term, but they needed to put some distance between themselves and the Grimm before their trail was discovered.

Kohroku’s measured breathing soon synched up with her own as they moved steadily north, feet crunching through the undergrowth. He trusted her to guide them to safety. Even with something as innocuous as setting their pace. Trusted her measure of her own capabilities, and her estimation of his.

Her resolve hardened.

She wouldn’t fail that trust. They would live. She would make sure of it.

X_0_X

“Everyone’s got their weapons ready? Coco, you’ve got enough ammo?”

“Locked and loaded, Vel.”

“Fox, you’ve got all the medical supplies prepped?”

“All set!”

“Yatsu—”

“I am physically and mentally prepared for this endeavor, Velvet,” Yatsuhashi smiled, serene and towering with his curved buster sword resting on his shoulder. The giant hardly looked bothered by the weight.

Their airship shuddered again, their haste pushing it to the very limits of its capabilities. Velvet ignored it, all her focus on her team. “And I’m all set…” she muttered to herself, fingering the short sword at her waist – a compromise she’d made with Coco after an especially prolonged battle that saw her run out of pictures to fuel Anesidora.

Coco reached around Fox to pat her on the shoulder. “Hey now,” the brunette soothed, her tone at odds with the cocky smirk adorning her lips. “We’re almost there. Ruby’s going to be fine and you’ll see that you had nothing to worry about.”

“I know…” Her long, brown ears flattened over her skull, twitching in response to her nervousness. She never could control the damn things…

“Undue stress may inhibit your performance, Velvet,” Yatsuhashi counselled. “Relax and marshal your energies for when you must act.”

That didn’t help her feel better at all. “…Okay?”

“Just focus on breathing.”

Better. Velvet immersed herself in the exercises her team had walked her through since their days at Beacon, the better to handle her anxiety. In. Out.

Turbulence rattled the ship again. This time, something behind them groaned, then fizzled, then going dead silent. This of course set off an alarm that grated on her ears and completely destroyed Velvet’s concentration.

Fox coughed. “Think that was important?”

“Pilot?” Velvet called, partly annoyed, partly relieved for the distraction.

“It’s nothing worth troubling yourselves over,” the pilot responded over the intercom, professionally calm. “Ship’s not made to go this fast for so long, she’s starting to feel the strain. We’ll get her looked at once we’re back in Mistral.”

The alarm continued to blare.

“Er, we’ll turn that off for you.”

The sound died. Velvet and Fox exchanged bemused looks, and the redhead shrugged. If they were okay with it…?

“How far to go before we start our search?” Coco called up to the cockpit.

“We’re picking up on Grimm signatures a few klicks south of here. You might want to get ready to go in case they’re after your target.”

They each straightened, hands going to weapons and supplies in one last check. Velvet felt her heartrate begin to rise, her breathing hastening to match the adrenaline entering her bloodstream. This was it. More than any average assignment, this mission had serious consequences.

Do or die. Or, do or Ruby dies…

“Alright CFVY,” Coco barked. Velvet flinched, breaking out of her thoughts. She looked at the brunette, at her leader, for direction. “We’re on a time limit for this one, and we don’t know the countdown. Our job is to extract Ruby and whoever else she’s with and get out. If they’re split up, we’ll track down whoever’s missing. Nothing more, and nothing less – we’re not here to get bogged down fighting Grimm if we can help it.”

They nodded seriously, Fox and Yatsuhashi with expressions hard as stone. Velvet drew strength from them, letting their resolve fill her. They had their mission. She could do this. They could do this.

“Velvet, you and Fox take point. Yatsuhashi and I will draw the pack’s attention and hold them off while you secure the targets and get them to safety.”

“Aye aye!”

“Got it Coco.”

“Grimm signatures confirmed,” the pilot spoke over the intercom. “A large Beowolf pack is massing to the south. They’re converging on a smaller signature – Mistral standard distress beacon. That’ll be our missing pilot. Fifteen seconds to the drop zone.”

Velvet stood, drawing her short sword in one hand and taking hold of one of the overhead handles with the other. Her team lined up beside her as the door slid open mechanically, freezing wind filling the fuselage and scattering Velvet’s hair.

Should have tied it back…

With her enhanced hearing she could hear the faint pounding footfalls of dozens of Grimm below, as well as the punctuating sound of gunshots. One, low powered and quiet, the other the loud and distinctive ‘crack!’ of a rifle.

Ruby… Thank Dust.

“You’re above the drop zone now. Good luck huntsmen.”

Velvet steeled herself and leapt.

X_0_X

Two hours.

A part of Ruby felt proud of how long they’d kept ahead of the pack, given their late start and the odds stacked against them. As the sun climbed higher in the sky, she’d disregarded the pain flaring in her leg completely (as well as the twinging she felt in the other) and pressed onwards, Kohroku right beside her as they trekked northward.

It wasn’t to last, however. The first Grimm finally overcame their position an hour prior, and they’d been just barely keeping ahead of the teeth nipping at their heels since. When they needed a moment to rest, they would sprint forward, Ruby pressing into her semblance to give them the extra distance they needed. That would give them maybe a minute to breathe and take a drink before they were forced to start moving once more.

The bulk of the pack was further behind them, the massing Grimm much slower to traverse the dense woodland than the two humans. The fastest Grimm quickly died, bisected by Crescent Rose with nary more than a whimper.

She was fairly certain survival of the fittest wasn’t supposed to work that way, but she’d never been the most attentive student in biology.

Unfortunately, their numbers continued to grow. Ruby could feel the fatigue spreading through her limbs like poison. She’d been forced to relax the efficient march already, and each brief skirmish with the encroaching Beowolves sapped her of aura and stamina.

Kohroku panted as they came to another rest. Ruby pressed her forehead into a nearby tree trunk, relishing in the cool, smooth bark.

“We can’t maintain this pace, Huntress,” the pilot croaked, taking a quick swig from his canteen.

“I know,” Ruby replied tiredly. “We’ve just got to hold on until your beacon gets someone’s attention. We’re bound to get lucky soon.”

She believed those words. She did. Mistral was an efficient kingdom – and it had learned its lesson after the massacre of its huntsmen population a decade prior. It wouldn’t leave them to die. They just had to keep moving.

Ruby breathed deeply. “Alright, break time’s over. We’ve got to move.”

“Right.”

The man replaced his canteen on his belt, but Ruby’s eyes were drawn to the side, where hateful orbs glared from the thick foliage. They locked, silver and crimson, and several things happened at once.

Crescent Rose unfolded in a glory of sliding metal, not even completing its transformation before she swung upwards to intercept the pouncing Grimm. Ruby’s senses screamed at her to turn however – it was an ambush; they’d been encircled at some point, some of the faster Grimm of the pack swinging wide to overtake them and intercept their path ahead of the rest. Simple, but terribly clever, and terribly deadly for the two.

Meanwhile, off in the distance, Ruby picked up the faint, familiar sound of an approaching airship. She didn’t have the time to consider this, however. She poured her aura into her attack – into Crescent Rose specifically – praying it would be fast enough to catch the other two Beowolves behind her before they slammed into her and her companion.

The first died easily; impaled through the throat by her reactionary swing. The second died on the follow-through, its paltrily-armored chest ripped open by the murderous blade. She was too slow to stop the third, however.

Kohroku cried out as the beast crashed into him in a flash of shattering aura, one hand shielding his face and the other firing his tiny pistol into the Beowolf’s guts. Ruby finished the beast right as he hit the ground, Crescent Rose’s mournful song punctured by the sound of snapping bone and the pilot’s pained gasp.

The Beowolf dissolved immediately, revealing the pilot cradling his misshapen leg with a bloody arm. Ruby knelt beside him immediately. “Shit,” she muttered angrily, examining the injury.

Luckily the break was clean and hadn’t broken skin, while his arm was only scratched up and not seriously damaged. Unluckily, the injury was still easily bad enough to prevent him from walking any distance on his own.

Ruby stared at the broken limb for several seconds, ever mindful of the quickly diminishing gap between them and the pack…

She couldn’t carry him.

They’d last a minute if she did – if she used her semblance, at least. But she would be too slow otherwise and they’d be overtaken easily. And should she tap the last dregs of her aura she’d be totally drained from the effort, in no shape to defend them.

“Okay. Okay,” she muttered, forcing her mind into high-gear. Running was no longer an option. Her reserves were perilously low, both of body and soul. Fighting was looking like a worse option by the moment… They were only Beowolves though, she could make a stand and try to – she could buy time for the airship to circle back around and drop the huntsmen, she could probably manage that much… Probably. They had the numbers to overwhelm her – but if they played with their food then she had a chance.

“Huntress.”

“You’re going to be alright Kohroku,” she said stubbornly, a plan quickly taking shape in her head. Hopefully the Alpha of the pack – there had to be one, Beowolves weren’t smart enough to strategize on their own, and that ambush, while simple, was evidence enough – hopefully it would hang back while its underlings tested her…

“Ruby, you must run.”

What?

“What?” she hissed. “No, I’m not abandoning you! I can hold them off until the huntsmen arrive.”

The pilot cringed as he sat up straight. “No, that’s not what I meant,” he grunted and shook his head, frustrated. “You are exhausted – if the pack comes up on us then you will die; they will swarm you and there will be nothing you can do about it. Hide me and run – draw their attention, buy time until the huntsmen can deal with the pack.”

Ruby stared at him.

Kohroku glared. “Hurry! Unless you have a better idea?”

…She didn’t. Ruby cursed internally that she hadn’t thought of it herself. While she loathed the idea of leaving the pilot behind, his plan was sound, and more likely to succeed than playing on the arrogance of the Grimm.

But he would be alone. Injured. The pistol he carried was hardly enough to protect him should one Beowolf come across him, much less dozens, or the whole pack…

Dust damnit…! Why could nothing go right for once?

Fuming and frustrated, Ruby slung his arm over her shoulder, half-carrying the heavy Mistrallan to a nearby tree deeply set into a nearby hillock. There were plenty of spaces amongst the roots that would fit the pilot; Ruby chose one hidden behind the densest foliage, hoping the camouflage would be enough. The limited cover it offered would buy him time before the Grimm doubled back to scent him out.

Letting him sink into the recess, Ruby shuddered, picturing Kohroku’s face alongside the villagers, Bai and Bryce…

No.

He would survive. She would distract the Grimm and he would be rescued. For good measure, Ruby handed him the beacon, knowing that the others would be able to find her by following the Grimm.

“I’ll be back,” she promised, pausing before she left.

“Be safe, Huntress,” the pilot said solemnly, sagging against the trunk.

Ruby smiled shakily at him, feeling exhaustion tugging at her limbs. “I will.”

The pilot nodded, gripping his pistol with white knuckles, his other hand inside the small pack of rounds at his waist. Nothing that would stop a determined Grimm for long, but perhaps enough to buy a few seconds for the rescue team to arrive.

Without another word, Ruby took off from the hideaway. Pointing Crescent Rose in the air, she squeezed the trigger twice, feeling the familiar jolt along its haft as the dust rounds screamed into the sky.

Howling and bestial snarls filled the air – too close! - and Ruby felt the attention turn towards her. Distraction achieved. Dark shapes pounded through the forest like a massive, malevolent wave just behind her.

Folding Crescent Rose up to stow at her waist, Ruby poured what residual aura she had left into her semblance, warping the air around her in her desperate bid to put as much distance between herself and Kohroku as possible. Pain shot up her legs within seconds, pooling in the desiccating flesh, bruises and cuts she’d sustained over the last day. The blackened flesh of her ankle seared so badly that her entire leg threatened to give out with every step.

The Grimm howled. The heavy pounding of their feet behind her felt far too close. She poured on the speed, fighting back the agony.

Automatic fire rang out in the forest behind her, a few dozen yards from Kohroku’s hiding place. Huntsmen. They would find Kohroku and get him to safety. Her own trail would be easy to find. Just follow the Grimm.

Branches snapped behind her. Ruby felt her semblance shudder. Without warning, the last of her aura withered away, reserves totally exhausted, and she stumbled as a new wave of soul-deep fatigue washed over her. Her cloak fluttered in the weak breeze she’d created, spilling out a stream of rose petals around her.

Dive.

Muted pain bloomed in her shoulder, jolting through the rest of her body as she rolled by sheer instinct. The massive, shadowy bulk of a leaping Beowulf sailed over her just as she came up to her feet.

Turn. Slash.

Crescent Rose unfolded with a metallic ‘schink,’ its menacing song splitting the air as she swung it around.

The two halves of the now-neatly bisected Beowolf crumpled to the ground, though Ruby spared them no mind, bringing Crescent Rose back around in a wide arc. The Grimm pursuing her skidded to a halt to avoid the wicked blade, fanning out to encircle her.

Her weapon gleamed eagerly in the low light. The simple sight of the blade comforted her. Resetting her grip on the snath and taking in the circle of foes, Ruby took a few calming breaths. She met the eyes of the largest Grimm in the pack – a Beowolf larger than its fellows and covered in lean muscle, sporting the dull, boney armor all its kind were known for.

It bore several scars along its body; results of territorial fighting with other Grimm, and a few distinctive signs of huntsmen weaponry. This was the Alpha, then. Older, stronger, and more cunning than the younger Grimm surrounding her.

The pack awaited their Alpha’s command. The gunshots – now accompanied by the sound of blades parting flesh and bone – were drawing near.

The Alpha snarled, and Ruby tensed her body in anticipation.

Whirl. Slice up, across the body. Down. Right. Follow through. Reverse, and leap!

Several Beowolves died, their foul, reeking blood watering the earth.

Instincts drilled into her by Beacon’s training and years of professional experience reigned over her body in full force. Ruby relished in the experience of simply surrendering to them, exhaustion for now forgotten - of giving over to the pulse in her veins and the whirling, energetic dance she and Crescent Rose performed as their foes streamed toward them.

Left. Back. Right. Follow through. Sweep. BACK.

The Alpha leapt at Ruby, interrupting her rhythm. Every instinct in her screamed to get away as the beast crashed into where she’d been mere moments ago. It snarled, furious as it swatted at the fluttering rose petals she left in her wake, her cloak fluttering to a halt behind her.

The Alpha charged her position again Dive and Ruby slammed the transformation switch on Crescent Rose as she came up on one knee, already taking aim at its flank.

The forest trembled as the Alpha growled low in its throat, shrugging off the dust rounds that would have staggered a lesser Grimm and leaping at her again.

Dive. LEFT!

“Argh!”

Ruby howled as the Alpha’s paw slammed into her ribcage, having anticipated her movements. The small amount of aura she’d regenerated prevented it from crushing her entirely, but she felt the harsh fire of wicked-sharp claws gouging new lines into her side, and the deep pulsing throb of bruised ribs.

The blow sent her reeling on the ground, Crescent Rose clattering to the ground nearby.

GET UP MOVE DO SOMETHING THOSE WHO FALL IN COMBAT DIE.

Her head came up blearily as her senses flared intensely. She could sense the Alpha in her peripheral vision as it turned around for another charge. Could hear the triumphant howls of its pack in the background.

More howls and snarling further away, near the gunshots.

MOVE, RUBY!

Her eyes settled on Crescent Rose, alone on the ground. Her arms reached out, fingers brushing the snath, wrapping around its cool, comforting touch.

DON’T LOOK AWAY FROM IT, YOU DOLT!

Painfully slowly, she pulled Crescent Rose back to her, both hands gripping it with white-knuckled fervor. Silver eyes met malevolent crimson as the Alpha barreled toward her. Time became a crawl, and the whole world dropped away. Just the Hunter and its Prey. Everything diminished to shades of grey, save the burning orbs locked on her own.

Thump.

Slavering jaws closed around Crescent Rose, jolting her entire body backwards as the Alpha’s momentum carried them across the clearing. She held her arms ramrod-straight against it, holding the monstrous beast back from closing its fearsome jaws around her head and ending the fight.

Thump.

Her back slammed into the solid bulk of a tree. Ruby whimpered as pain shot through her entire body, arms bending under the concentrated force.

Thump.

Her heartbeat throbbed in her ears as her body strained against the Alpha. Three hundred pounds of dense muscle and inhuman fury bore down on her.

Thump.

Ruby gritted her teeth, every muscle in her body on fire.

Thump.

‘I’m going to die.’

Thump.

Her eyes widened, tears pooling over the silver lakes that had drawn her into this life. Her arms burned.

Thump.

‘Please no! Not like this! Not after everything!’

Thump.

Crescent Rose descended. Ruby could feel the Grimm’s humid, disgusting breath on her face as it overpowered her.

Thump.

‘Be strong, Ruby.’

Thump.

‘I’m sorry, Mom. I’m not strong enough this time…’

Just as her arms were about to give out, a gunshot rang through the clearing with startling sharpness. The weight on Ruby’s arms disappeared and Crescent Rose clattered into her lap as the Alpha staggered away from her with a pained yelp, the soft tendons behind one of its’ kneecaps pulped by the shot, to meet the new combatants.

Ruby stared at her hands, imprinted ugly red and white from Crescent Rose pressing into them. Without the Alpha dominating her senses it felt like the entire world had fallen away.

Thump.

The fighting seemed to grow distant, though a new sound replaced it. Steady footsteps, heavy and muffled against the ground. Ruby looked up and saw another Beowolf, smaller, younger, weaker, and no longer held back by the command of its Alpha.

The two locked eyes, icy despair rolling down Ruby’s spine as it snarled and lunged at her.

Up.

Crescent Rose whipped upwards, but too slow. Exhausted by the struggle with the Alpha, Ruby could only watch in impotent horror as the Beowolf ducked underneath the sloppy strike and closed its jaws around her forearm.

Thump.

Agony shot up past her shoulder, bone crunching beneath the razor-sharp teeth digging into corded muscle with all of the force of a bear trap. Ruby screamed and tried to pull her arm back from the Grimm, only to feel her voice die out into a whimper as the action tore flesh from bone.  

Thu-ump.

Pleased with its success, the Beowolf released her arm and backed up a step, before darting forward to bat an oversized paw against Ruby’s head. The blow knocked her senseless, and she slumped limply against the tree, letting the Grimm inspect its prize.

Thump.

Pain. Dull spots of black and white danced across Ruby’s vision. Her head throbbed in time to her heartbeat, so loud in her ears. Dazed, deathly afraid, and lacking any other options to protect herself, Ruby drew her knees up to her chest and cradled her mangled arm against herself, ignoring the hot, sticky blood fitfully spurting and desperately trying to block out the pain signals everything was sending to her brain.

Distant crashes, pops, splintered wood and horrid cracks. All was nothing to the throb of her pounding pulse in her ears.

Thump.

Seconds passed.

Thump.

…

Thump.

Why wasn’t she dead yet?

Ruby cracked open her eyes weakly, before slamming them shut with a whimper. Everything hurt, and even the soft, filtered of midmorning was more than enough to set her head throbbing.

Thump.

She could hear something, just barely, over the pounding of her heart. Distant and indistinct. Something soft touched her shoulder and she cringed, expecting death at any moment.

“-by? Ruby!”

The touch on her shoulder tightened, another similar feeling appearing on the other shoulder. Hands. They shook Ruby, jostling her arm and her head. She whimpered pitifully, willing the presence away.

Thump.

“Velvet, stop! You’re going to hurt her more.”

“Oh Dust, Ruby, I’m so sorry! Fox, can you go get Yatsu over here with one of those stretchers? She needs medical attention ASAP.”

“On it. Keep an ear out though, no telling whether that pack will be back or not.”

Ruby felt her heartbeat recede as her other senses returned. The hands on her shoulder disappeared, as well as the nauseating shaking. Her whole head rang, her chest tight like a drum, the pulsating echo against it a memory of the pounding throb it had been mere seconds ago.

“You’re gonna be alright, Ruby. We’ve got you now. You’re going to be alright.”

Were she in a better state, Ruby might have been concerned by how watery the voice sounded. But as it was, it was all she could do to merely keep a hold on consciousness. She distantly heard the sound of fabric ripping. She didn’t question it until gentle hands pulled her mangled arm away from her chest and swiftly wrapped it up in something soft.

Ruby’s vision flashed red as the hands roughly tightened the makeshift bandage, bone grinding together and blood continuing to gush hot and sticky. Her ears rang, and it wasn’t until she heard the voice again soothing her again that she realized that her throat was now raw from her screaming.

The huntress withdrew in on herself, ignoring the voice. The pain. A trickle of blood ran down her cheek from her temple, warm on her clammy skin.

“Hey! You’ve got her?”

“Over here Yatsu, quickly!”

Ruby heard heavy footsteps approaching her, her heart clenching in momentary panic as memories of the Beowolves sprung to mind.

“Dust… Velvet, what happened to her?”

“She was savaged by a Beowolf… We thought she would be safe while we dealt with the Alpha, but one of the smaller ones got to her while we were distracted.”

“Help me get her on the stretcher.”

Large, calloused hands slipped below her armpits, brushing against her bruised ribs. Smaller hands – the ones she’d felt earlier, appeared below her knees to ease her into a lying position. Ruby endured the motion with grit teeth, every ounce of fortitude she possessed dedicated to not vomiting from the sudden vertigo rushing through her.

She felt a brief surge of weightlessness, before her back met something soft. The touches disappeared, and her nausea receded. For a moment she languished, everything was growing numb and grey. Ruby cracked her eyes open to look at her rescuers, and through her pain felt a deep sense of relief upon seeing them.

“You’re going to be alright, Ruby,” Velvet whispered to her as she picked up her end of the stretcher. Her warm, brown eyes were wet with unshed tears as she looked down on the cloaked huntress. Yatsuhashi led the way back to the Bullhead in silence.

Ruby wanted to ask so many questions, each flying around her spinning mind like pinballs, but settled on the simplest. “Velvet?” she rasped.

The faunus smiled weakly down at her. “Yeah, it’s me, Ruby.”

“What’re you doing here?”

“Rescuing you, silly. What do you think?” Velvet teased gently.

“I… oh. That’s good… Is Kohroku… is he alright? You found him, right?” Why was it so hard to think?

Velvet frowned. Ruby didn’t see it, her eyes were scrunched shut again against her headache… it felt as though the Beowolf was there again, kicking her skull like a perverse football. “The pilot?” the faunus asked. “Fox will have him on the airship by now, I think. We lost a minute getting to you just pulling the pack’s attention away from him. He’s a little roughed up, but he should recover.”

Ruby gritted her teeth. “T-that’s good.”

She opened her eyes again, but that was a mistake. Her vision swam sickeningly, red and grey and pulsing in time with her headache. “Velvet,” she gasped.

“We’re almost there Ruby, just hold on.” The words came out pained.

“W-why does it hurt so much?”

She wanted to curl up into a ball, but her body would not obey her. Blood already seeped out of the makeshift bandage around her arm. Ruby could feel it, hot and sticky on her stomach, smelling like old coins to her fading senses.

“I’m so s—Fox!” Ruby whimpered at the yell. “Get over here! Ruby needs medical attention, now!”

What followed quickly turned into a blur as her rescuers burst into a jog. Ruby distantly noticed when they came to a stop; she was lowered to the ground and gentle hands marked with callouses moved all over her body, testing bones and bruises and moving her arm away from her chest…!

“Sorry Ruby,” the owner of the hands – Fox – muttered after she’d stopped screaming, her abused vocal cords finally failing her.

“Is she going to be alright?”

“Don’t worry about her, hun. Fox here will take care of Ruby – you just sit tight and don’t move that leg.”

“Her legs are going to need some attention,” a deep voice commented quietly.

“One thing at a time, Yatsu. She’s going to bleed out if I don’t work on her arm first.”

She was feeling kind of cold… Ruby felt something tight wrapping around her arm – her muddled thoughts reached for the term – tourn…? – but it slipped away before she could properly grasp it.

“Alright Ruby, I’m really sorry but there’s no way around it. I need to properly check out your arm and set the bones before I can do an aura transfer.” Ruby didn’t like the sound of that. “Velvet, have her bite down on this.”

A thick strip of… something. Leather? Was pressed between Ruby’s teeth. What was…?

“Alright Ruby, on three I’m going to remove the bandage.”

Oh no.

“One.”

This was going to suck, deep breaths, deep breaths.

“Two.” Fox deftly removed the wrapping and Ruby’s vision throbbed red and black. She groaned piteously into the gag. What had happened to three?!

“Three.”

Oh, there it waaaaaa—PainpainPAIN erupted in Ruby’s ARM and she was screaming into the leather teeth GRINDING down ohDUSTmakeitstop and HER world went black.

 X_0_X

I had a lot of fun writing this chapter - some of my favorite things I've ever written are in here, actually - so I hope you all enjoyed.

One thing I'd like to make a note about early on is that this story takes place in a dubious continuation of the canon. I decided early on to make the executive decision to make V5's finale the hard cutoff between Canon and The Last Rose. Before that point, the closer things get to the end of V5 the murkier things get - I had different priorities in writing this than Canon RWBY had in their narrative, so things like the Relics and Salem will take a backseat to the Grimm and the fallout of the Fall of Vale in this story, if they get mentioned at all.

I wanted to write a story about Huntsman, about Grimm, about the fallout from the Fall of Vale, and about Ruby as a character. I'm not one of those people who feel like she's had zero development in canon, but I did want to explore her character more myself. Where those goals conflicted with the canon, I defenestrated the canon with a smile.

Please leave a review! Would love to hear some feedback on this story.

[inventedworld]

MAYBE THE DONKEY IS THE HERO?

People who care about literature and western culture are supposed to care about Don Quixote. Scholars regard it as not only one of the first novels ever written, but also one of the greatest novels ever written: pretty impressive for a first go!

In western traditions, Spain glows in bright, creative sunlight. Music, painting, sculpture, architecture, mathematics, literature: Spain offers riches. Somehow, some way, Cervantes’s errant knight on his noble donkey has come to be part of that pantheon. But while I’m sure The Don was well intended, as a character he doesn’t make me lean in to the tale. I can’t deny, however, that Señor Quixote holds unique pride of place in the literary canon. Everyone should, therefore, at least know the basics, regardless of how you feel about the book. If you’re hiding in the back of the class, still unsure, I promise not to point you you. Here’s the wispy limn:

A middle aged nobleman reads widely and imagines vividly. As a result, he determines himself to be a knight and sets out to right wrongs and fight injustices, with plans of restoring a measure of virtue and morality to an otherwise corrupt world.

It’s a good premise in my humble opinion. Filled with allegorical power and the potential for comic flights to convey vital ideas, our hidalgo hero sets out on his quest. Unfortunately that’s where my own private exasperation sets in. Rather than calling foul on untenable circumstances, he sets his sights on forces that are not, actually….anything important at all. Most famously, he challenges windmills.

I’m no literalist. I understand the metaphor here, and the sublime satire, and even the narrative messages of fighting against impossible odds. But it’s one thing for a group of flower carrying children to oppose a ferocious army on the field of literary battle. It’s quite another to have a deluded man stand up for idealized values and virtue and essentially oppose meaninglessness. That’s a character waiting for a better world rather than trying to move a mountain. That’s a character waiting for Godot.

In leveling his lance at windmills we see that The Don is deluded. That’s okay. There’s a great history of literary fools who present important messages to surrounding characters and, more importantly, us readers. To be foolish is to make erroneous judgements. A lack of intellectual capability is not the province of literary clowns, nor would that lack of smarts even be a fair or legitimate target for literary poking. Fools are about doing dumb things in the face of reality. In Quixote’s case, he’s presented as a man with a need to do important things, virtuous things, constructive things, but he can’t tell what they are. He doesn’t really perceive what’s real in the real world. What’s more, his fantasy world isn’t representative of the real one. His efforts are wasted, and to me that’s not only tragic, it’s disempowering. In a world where there are seemingly endless wrongs to right and endless injustices to correct, one would hope that a children’s army or a humble hobbit with hairy feet would stand up and at least try, even if there were no chance at success at all. Hollow efforts to declare that windmills are dragons spends the character’s precious life not on morality or values, but on deluded self indulgence. (Don’t even get me started on Dulcinea!) With real wrongs to be righted, he’s more interested in being the guy to do it, all the while doing nothing at all. He’s not the ultimate idealist. He’s the cranky guy telling you to stay off the grass.

Filmmaking itself is ultimately a quixotic enterprise. (The utility of that eponymous word in a contemporary sense does not certify the merits of its etymology.) The forces aligned against any filmmaker, especially newly minted ones, are enormous. If one gives it very much thought, in fact, filmmaking is a practically insurmountable task. That said, people do it anyway and sometimes they do it very well. What is an artist, after all, if not idealistic? The creative people of the world— the dreamers of the world—are all ultimately idealistic in some form. Don Quixote, we are taught to believe, should be our standard-bearer. How ironic, then, that the thing this false knight ultimately champions is the least tangible thing of all, namely a need for idealism in the first place. The problem is not that he fails, or approaches his quests with absurd strategies. The problem is that in his idealism he fails to see what’s right in front of his eyes. This speaks to an abdication of responsibility, a license for narcissism rather than idealism. The fact that he fails to see what’s right in front of him and instead favors his own private obsessions emphasizes his fatal flaw.

I realize I’m in a minuscule minority here; everybody who knows anything about literature regards Quixiote as a giant, to say nothing of being a slayer of giants, as he puts it so many times in the novel. I realize this book is the cornerstone of Western literature. Its tropes repeat over and over; its characters refract as seminal archetypes. Endless pages of analysis and critique and review and consideration about this singular work have contributed mightily to philosophy and literary thought and cultural mores. Perhaps the real value of Don Quixote is not in the book, per se,  but in the scintillation of cultural and intellectual and ethical considerations that orbit it’s unusual gravity well.

Come to think of it, that might ultimately be an idea which could become the backbone of a genuinely interesting tale, namely one where a cultural collective undertook fascinating, even important intellectual explorations based on a questionable map made from a cartographer who only imagined the places he’d been.

@michaelstarobin      or              facebook.com/1auglobalmedia

[auskultu]

Book Review: Hunter Thompson, 'Hell's Angels'

Leo Litwack, New York Times, 29 January 1967

In 1965 the Attorney General of the State of California distributed a report on the Hell's Angels Motorcycle Club to law enforcement agencies throughout the state, urging that all measures be taken to contain the menace of this elite outlaw organization.

According to the Lynch report, the 450 members of the club had a record of 874 felony arrests, 300 felony convictions, more than 1,000 misdemeanor convictions. The report held that there would have been an even more extensive record, but for the Angels' practice of intimidating witnesses.

The criminal actions listed by the Lynch report ranged from the terrorization of rural communities to the theft of motorcycle parts. Included were detailed charges of attempted murder, assault and battery, malicious destruction of property, narcotics violations and sexual aberrations. Investigating officers further reported that "both club members and female associates seem badly in need of a bath."

It was a picture of alarming menace. Depraved hoodlums—unmanageable, incorrigible, vindictive and organized—roamed the California highways in stripped down Harley-Davidson motorcycles. They were dressed like pirates, with full beards, a ring in one ear, shoulder-length hair, an embroidered winged skull on the backs of their sleeveless denim jackets, Iron Crosses on their chests, swastikas on their helmets. These weren't the teen-agers of the usual urban gang, but adults, ranging in age from the early 20's to the mid-40's. They could strike anywhere in the state, and they didn't fear the police. The underground in which they were lords seemed dark, rancid, impenetrable.

Hunter Thompson entered this terra incognita to become its cartographer. For almost a year, he accompanied the Hell's Angels on their rallies. He drank at their bars, exchanged home visits, recorded their brutalities, viewed their sexual caprices, became converted to their motorcycle mystique, and was so intrigued, as he puts it, that "I was no longer sure whether I was doing research on the Hell's Angels or being slowly absorbed by them." At the conclusion of his year's tenure the ambiguity of his position was ended when a group of Angels knocked him to the ground and stomped him.

Without denying that the Angels are violent, unpredictable and dangerous, Thompson regards the Lynch report as vastly exaggerating their menace and misrepresenting their life in crime. "There was a certain pleasure," he writes, "in sharing the Angels' amusement at the stir they created."

According to Thompson, the membership is in the neighborhood of 100, not 450 as the report claimed. The failure to get convictions had less to do with the intimidation of witnesses than with the baselessness of the complaints. Police harassment was responsible for the large number of misdemeanor convictions. Thompson, noting the relatively insignificant part the Angels play in California crime statistics, is amused at the disproportionate publicity they have secured. He argues that publicity saved the club from extinction. Prior to the Lynch report, club fortunes were on the wane. The Lynch report called the Angels to the attention of national media and with the "publicity breakthrough" they again flourished. Thompson, in a tone of exuberant irony reminiscent of Mencken, comments, "In a nation of frightened dullards there is a shortage of outlaws."

The underworld Thompson reveals to us is a more familiar terrain than the shadowy nightmare world of the Lynch report. He doesn't find an effective criminal conspiracy, nor does he see an organization ground in Nazi ideology. He draws a picture of desperate men, without status and-- despite their motorcycles--without mobility. He traces their origins to the Okies and Arkies and hillbillies who migrated to California during the Depression. He finds the literary prototype of their ancestor in the protagonist of Nelson Algren's "A Walk on the Wild Side," Dove Linkhorn. Most Angels are uneducated. Only one Angel in 10 has steady work; "Motorcycle outlaws are not much in demand on the labor market." The world demands skills they have no chance of acquiring; "They are out of the ball game and they know it." They have no future; "In a world increasingly geared to specialists, technicians, and fantastically complicated machinery, the Hell's Angels are obvious losers, and it bugs them."

They survive in various ways. According to Thompson, a few have steady work, some pander, some steal, some live off their ladies. Some are married and faithful to their wives. Others have a predilection for gang love. What they share is a guiding concern to be "righteous Angels" and a love for motorcycles. An Angel is quoted as saying, "We don't lie to each other. Of course that don't go for outsiders because we have to fight fire with fire."

Thompson describes the attitude of a Hell's Angel to outsiders as follows: "To him they are all the same--the running dogs of whatever fiendish conspiracy has plagued him all these years. He knows that somewhere behind the moat, the Main Cop has scrawled his name on a blackboard in the Big Briefing Room with a notation beside it: 'Get this boy, give him no peace, he's incorrigible, like an egg-sucking dog.'"

Mounted on his bike, he assumes a dignity he often lacks on foot. The high-speed trip described by Thompson is akin to the psychedelic trip made on LSD. The Angel has small chance of assuming the role of hero save in a fantasy trip. "Most Angels. . . are well enough grounded in the eternal verities to know that very few of the toads in this world are Charming Princes in disguise. The others are simply toads, and no matter how many magic maidens they kiss or rape, they are going to stay that way."

Vindictive at being toads, they invert the ethic of Prince Charming. The initiation ceremony of an Angel centers on the defiling of his new uniform and emblem. "A bucket of dung and urine will be collected during the meeting, then poured on the newcomer's head in a solemn baptismal." They never wash their soiled colors. They mock the courtly love of Prince Charming with gang love. Instead of the gentlemanly duel they subscribe to the principle of All on One. They don't seek justice in dispensing punishment. Rather, the response is always one of total retaliation. "If a man gets wise, mash his face. If a woman snubs you, rape her. This is the thinking, if not the reality, behind the whole Angel's act."

The Angel rejects precautions, whether riding a motorcycle or entering a brawl. "They inhabit a world in which violence is as common as spilled beer." The Angel has been injured so often that he is indifferent to pain. "This casual acceptance of bloodletting is a key to the terror they inspire in the squares. . . . It is a simple matter of having been hit or stomped often enough to forget the ugly panic that nice people associate with a serious fight." The "reality behind the Angel's whole act" is that most of the damage is inflicted on themselves. An average of four die violently each year.

The easy acceptance of violence lends to Thompson's account a cartoon quality. We observe Angels brutalizing themselves and others and somehow we expect them to recover as quickly as the cartoon cat and mouse. It's not that Thompson doesn't give us a vivid picture of brawls and orgies. His language is brilliant, his eye is remarkable, and his point of view is reminiscent of Huck Finn's. He'll look at anything; he won't compromise his integrity. Somehow his exuberance and innocence are unaffected by what he sees.

Dirty Ed is laid flat by a two-foot lead pipe, but he gets up and drives away on his motorcycle. Terry the Tramp is stomped by the Diablos, a rival gang, but he still manages to make the Labor Day run. We see a mass assault on a compliant lady during a party; the dancing continues. A 7- foot Negro invades the Angel clubroom. He is overwhelmed, cast down, kicked in the face and belly, dumped in the parking lot. He gets up and walks to the ambulance. During Thompson's last interview with a group of Angels, he is suddenly struck from behind, then from all sides. He is knocked down and stomped. He is almost done in by a "vicious swine trying to get at me with the stone held in a two-handed Godzilla grip." He gets to a hospital unaided.

Because the Hell's Angels have lacked a focus for their hostility, their violence has been undirected. However, those who observe the trappings--the swastikas and Iron Crosses--have wondered if there might not be in them the raw material out of which Brown Shirts are made. This suspicion seemed confirmed when, in the fall of 1965, a group of Hell's Angels attacked an anti-war rally at the Oakland-Berkeley boundary, an assault which put them into direct conflict with the radical left in neighboring Berkeley.

"The attack was an awful shock to those who had seen the Hell's Angels as pioneers of the human spirit, but to anyone who knew them it was entirely logical. The Angels' collective viewpoint has always been fascistic. They insist and seem to believe that their swastika fetish is no more than an anti-social joke, a guaranteed gimmick to bug the squares, the taxpayers--all those they spitefully refer to as 'citizens.' . . . If they wanted to be artful about bugging the squares they would drop the swastika and decorate their bikes with the hammer and sickle. That would really raise hell on the freeways. . . hundreds of Communist thugs roaming the countryside on big motorcycles, looking for trouble."

However, the threat to disrupt all future anti-war demonstrations didn't materialize. A visit from poet Allen Ginsberg and novelist Ken Kesey served to pacify the Angels and there has been no recent sign of political direction.

Hunter Thompson has presented us with a close view of a world most of us would never dare encounter, yet one with which we should be familiar. He has brought on stage men who have lost all options and are not reconciled to the loss. They have great resources for violence which doesn't as yet have any effective focus. Thompson suggests that these few Angels are but the vanguard of a growing army of disappropriated, disaffiliated and desperate men. There's always the risk that somehow they may force the wrong options into being.

[tabletopbellhop]

New Review!

Hornhelm: Wasteland Market - the Sixth Map Pack for Cartographers (and Cartographers Heroes) from Thunderworks Games

This expansion pack adds more than just a new map sheet. Spend your gold shopping at the market and earn Journal points with your new items.

https://tabletopbellhop.com/game-reviews/cartographers-hornhelm-review/

[bookish-thinking]

Review: “The Map of Salt and Stars” by Zeyn Joukhadar

I have a soft spot in my heart for the profession of cartographer, so I was very excited to get my hands on this book about two girls in the Middle East: a modern-day refugee in Syria and a girl appreticing with a mapmaker under disguise as a boy, traveling Africa in in the Middle Ages. While the overall themes of home and finding your way there, exploration and wonder, family born and found, girl power and a touch of romance were very enjoyable and well done, I found myself disappointed.

The Middle Ages timeline turned out to have fantasy elements, which threw me - having expected a historcially accurate account of early mapmaker and explorers - off. It also turned out to be a story, a fairy tale, the modern girl recounts to herself from memory of her father. Thus, because it is a story told, the narrative structures are almost all tropes and the characters are flat and easily distinguished heroes and villians. Without the framework of this time line being a fairy tale, it would have been very bad, formulaic writing. With the framework, it was fine, just a problem of my expectations not quite lining up.

My problem with the other, the modern timeline was also on the level of narration. I found this a bit too constructed and unrealistic. Not the refugee journey from Syria itself, but the reason the story starts there in the first place. These characters were US-citizens who moved back to Syria despite it already being warzone, and then promptly get in the midst of it and suffer a lot (like, a lot. I do not mean to diminish the horrible experiences refugees go through, but here, so much was piled on, it did seem a little unrealistic). The reason for migration back into an active civil war were never made clear enough, and thus confused me. But once I got over that initial hump, the story itself is great.

[cavefelix]

The Orc Library: Non-Fiction, 300-499

(Wondering what this is? Here’s the intro.)

The 300s

Orcs, even those of strict military obey-the-chain-of-command-and-orders philosophy, have a soft spot for criminals. At least, for spectacular, daring criminals. There’s plenty of exploits of clever rogues, devious killers, and other anti-hero ne’er-do-wells.

There’s at least three biographies on Roc Claw’s (in)famous Korten the Clever, born with a deformed knee, who studied sorcery and used his abilities to turn invisible and summon mindless servants to rob those who mocked him of their most precious belongings. Korten was eventually caught, but his daring is almost a source of pride among people -- the way a hotel in the West might advertise that Billy the Kid slept there, orcs pride themselves on having such a famous thief.

There are plenty of books about non-Orc criminals too. Some appreciate these because a clever robber is worthy of being studied, tusks or no tusks. Other appreciate them with a sense of superiority, that other groups produce these degenerates. (Yes, this is hypocritical. Do they contradict themselves? Very well, they contradict themselves. They do not have any equivalent to Walt Whitman in the library multitudes.)

Military books are also a big deal. There’s plenty of advice of how an army should be run, how a particular force was organized, why soldiers desert, biographies of orc generals, and more. There’s advice on how to get ahead in your unit, how to deal with commanding officers who are wrong (some of the books *don’t* advise beating them to a bloody pulp, but that is a popular tip), and sections on what to do in land you’ve conquered.

Orcs obviously have laws, but the society doesn’t really have the same extensive loads of precedents. Judges are expected to read the basic books and use their own interpretation. This category is surprisingly light if you’re an outsider. There’s always trial by combat if needed, right?

Of course,there’s a lot of what we’d classify as folklore in the library. Collected folk wisdom, simple guides put together by people on useful herbs, what fey to avoid in the woods and so on. As with the advice in the occult section, don’t expect perfect advice. Or perfect grammar; some of these manuals are just a collection of family writings over the generations that were donated to the library.

[Adventure Seed: Some of the treasure Korten the Clever stole was never recovered. It’s probably right here in Roc Claw. Comb the biographies for clues and get there before someone else gets the same idea.]

[Adventure seed: General Strilkava earned her reputation on the battlefield for her careful research and testing of tactics. She wants to write a book on a new form of small squad tactics, but needs testers. She asks you and your party to use them as you go on your next mission. They seem weird, but maybe promising?]

[Adventure seed: Your Lizardfolk friends were in town and are accused of breaking the law, and they just don’t understand Orc law. Neither do you; you’ve never studied it. But there’s a couple of volumes in the library, and if that fails, there’s always trial by combat to prove their innocence, you think.]

The 400s

A couple of notes about language: about 90-95 percent of the books are in either Orcish, Common, or dual translations in cases where orc authors felt that non-orcs might want to read this. Pretty much anyone who’s learned Orcish runes knows the lingua franca alphabet of the humans.

The handful that are not in one of those languages were catalogued by a librarian who could read the speech. A lot of librarians were adventurers and well travelled before working here, and are widely travelled. Sometimes nobody besides the person who entered them into the system has any idea what’s on them. There’s three books on a shelf written in the aquatic tongue of the merpeople (they’re on fine sealskin scrolls with special waterproof inks). Since that librarian passed away eight years ago, nobody in town knows anything about them except the brief description in the catalogue (“non-fiction; histories of Narwhal Princess”). .

As mentioned with the children’s section, there’s a few grammars, to teach your children or yourself how to read. There’s not really any advanced style guides; orcs who wish to learn to write eloquently try to apprentice to a bard.

There’s really only two books that could be considered about etymology or language usage, both of which are pretty interesting. Orcs, sadly, don’t have an extensive guide to how their language has evolved, but there’s a very practical guide in here, They Used To Sayeth, tracing the way that both Common and Orchish phrases have changed. To use an analogy, you know how the phrase “Wherefore art thou Romeo?” confuses some modern readers, who think it means “Where is Romeo?” instead of “Why was Romeo born to my family’s enemies?” They Used To Sayeth notes a ton of these phrases that the author gives updates for.

The other book is written in Orcish. It’s a history of the elven language, particularly the High Elven dialects. (If Elven sounds like Spanish, high Elven sounds like Portuguese in terms of similarity). It was written by a famous elven scholar, and nobody is quite sure why it’s in Orcish.  Some say they wrote many translations, and this is the last existing copy in any language, since at one point in Elven history, grammar wars wound up wiping out entire clans who would not change their use of adjectival structure to comply with the emperor's preferences. But apparently in addition to the study of the language, it has detailed genealogical surveys, some important histories, and a complex cartographic survey of the Seven Islands. All of this is very important information for certain functions in Elven high society.

A Scholarly Review Of The Evolution Of The Tongues Of Grace From The Dawn Of Creation To The 385th Year Of The Reign Of Our Emperors Lilaconte And Hazelnight sees a lot of usage, though very little circulation. About three times a year, Elven nobles visit the town for a week or two, sitting in the library and studying the book during the day, and grumbling about the lack of proper accommodations to their status the rest of the time. The librarians have tried telling them that they are welcome to check out the book for nearly two months at a time -- the fee for a library card is extremely affordable for simple peasants -- but the nobles always refuse. I suspect they don’t understand the concept of a public lending library, which is inconceivable to them. The elves have also refused suggestions they hire a scribe or mage to make a copy of the book. I believe that’s because of the complex Elven copyright laws they abide by, but it may again be a different cultural misunderstanding. Or maybe they’re just glad to get away from the pressures of city life and studying this apparently important work is a pretext.

There are also some phrasebooks for those visiting other cultures. The ones written by Orcs tend to be considered a little aggressive by other societies.  

For example, here is a phrase in Common from a human to orc guide: 

Five silvers is too expensive for this. Will you accept three?

Here is an Orc to Common guide, with the same Orcish phrase: 

You puny little thing. Do not presume to cheat me with your greedy offer of five silver!Take three or die in poverty.

That isn’t actually rude in orcish. It’s just a standard haggling phrase. Like when you say “Good bye” to someone, you don’t necessarily mean “May God be with you,” but probably “I’ve been on the phone long enough.”

[Adventure seeds: A librarian wants to be able to tell people more about a particular volume in an unknown language. She asks your group to visit the nation and discover what it’s about]

[Adventure seeds: A visiting Elven noble, here to study their etymology book finds that one of their quills has been stolen. It’s genuine phoenix feather, so quite valuable, though none of their other jewelry or goods was taken. Find the culprit. (Advanced mode: there might be a ticking time bomb if improperly stored phoenix feathers can ignite in a huge fireball, causing damage to the area as a new bird is born.]

[Adventure seeds: The party sends you to do the shopping for supplies for the dungeon raids, but none of the merchants in town will work with you after hearing a few phrases you think are very polite from the tour guide.]

[Adventure seeds: The humans in your party are constantly quoting from this human comedy, and while your common is good, you don’t get half the references. Perhaps They Used To Sayeth will save the day with its updated slang. So you to can make jokes about the Cavaliers Who Speak Of Knees. Perhaps not.]

[statrano]

The Case for Positive Reinforcement in Classrooms

Every teacher knows that students do better with positive reinforcement. As tempting as “punishment” might sound when referring to that student who has scrambled your last nerve, to explain consequences of actions in positive terms goes much further toward student success not only in school but in the ongoing effort to build life-long learners.

“Positive reinforcement, whether it be with your family, when following laws, or with students, can best be defined as the logical consequences of doing what’s right.” –Jacqui Murray

As an education pedagogy, pursuing a classroom management system that revolves around positive reinforcement is called Positive Behavioral Interventions and Support, or PBIS. The importance of using tools that prevent disruptive behavior and support students is explained by NEA Past President Lily Eskelsen Garcia:

The most effective tool teachers have to handle problem behavior is to prevent it from occurring in the first place. Positive Behavioral Interventions and Supports (PBIS) programs help teachers recognize the significance of classroom management and preventive school discipline to maximize student success. PBIS strategies are critical to providing all young people with the best learning environment.

Committed teachers can accomplish this in a variety of ways including supportive words, prizes, special activities, certificates, badges, and modeling proper behavior. Here are four online options that support the goal of recognizing students in a positive way:

Class Dojo

Empatico

Hero K12

Sown to Grow

Class Dojo

The free app, Class Dojo, encourages and rewards positive classroom behavior (like helping others, staying on task, participating in activities, exhibiting persistence, and engaging in teamwork) and discourages negative behavior (such as bullying, disrespect, missing homework, being off task, and talking out of turn). The app works on iOS, Android, desktops, and Kindle Fire and is easy to set up. Teachers create their account,  add student names, and then track student behavior against a personalized list. Parents are automatically updated every time the teacher adds a behavior or an announcement. Teachers can share weekly or monthly reports curating class behavior by category or individual student.

90% of US K-8 classrooms use Class Dojo. Here are five ways that’s happening:

Encourage good classroom behavior by sharing the positive behaviors being focused on.

Have a conversation with students on how positive actions serve their educational and life needs.

Involve parents as partners.

Quantify student behavior in preparation for report cards and parent meetings.

Show students how to showcase their learning in personal portfolios.

Empatico

The free initiative Empatico, from The KIND Foundation, has a goal of connecting 1 million students in twenty-five countries from disparate socio-economic backgrounds. They believe that the more empathetic children become, the more in tune they are with the needs of their peers, the more they will collaborate and find creative solutions to global problems. Through the website, students broaden their worldview through meaningful interactions with peers across the globe. Teachers are provided everything necessary to make this happen including lesson plans, materials lists, a video conferencing platform, and more. Activities range from two-three hours to eight-twelve hours and may often be spread over multiple meetings.

The Empatico website offers four globally-responsive activities your students will enjoy:

Ways We Play

Community Cartographers

Helping Hands

Weather out the Window

Hero K12

Hero K12 is a cloud-based iOS and Android app that helps districts and schools manage student behavior in areas such as reduced classroom disruption, office referrals, and tardiness. Hero supports positive behavior reinforcement programs, allowing teachers and administrators to award points for positive student activity. By rewarding the good things students do every day, schools build not only better student behavior but a more positive school culture. It helps to identify what’s working and what’s not while developing new systems for addressing these. It supports building better student relationships with peers, educators, and parents. It minimizes negative behaviors by emphasizing positive behaviors, providing a tangible way for even fragile students to realize they are good people.

Four ways to use Hero in your classroom:

Set goals school- and/or District-wide considered critical to student success.

Create a Hero team to oversee the rollout of this program, track its progress, and address questions.

Start with a finite set of behaviors to be encouraged. Add more over time.

Carefully plan incentives to be authentic and student-driven.

Sown to Grow

Sown To Grow is an online student-driven performance tracker that uses the metrics of goal-setting and reflection to assess progress. The expectation is that students learn how to learn by assessing their own educational experiences as a way to determine their best strategies to become lifelong learners. Students set their goals, track their progress, and ultimately see what worked and what didn’t. Because this is student-driven, students care more about their work and doing their best. For example, if notetaking worked well as a method of achieving goals in one instance, they can transfer that successful experience to other academic endeavors.

Here are great ways to use Sown to Grow in your classes:

Sown to Grow is well-aligned with school missions that include Depth of Knowledge, John Hattie’s Visible Learning, and other philosophies that value learning to learn.

Include this in middle school and high school advisory classes as an effective way to track student progress toward self-proclaimed goals.

Include this as part of any class to track student progress from their perspective, in ways a simple grade spreadsheet can’t.

Include this in any study skills class to show students how to identify problems, make connections, and develop strategies for problem-solving and critical thinking.

In place of canned reflections, use Sown to Grow to assess student interest and involvement. Students not only preflect on activities before they start but reflect on them when finished. This provides them with a self-generated metric for how their thinking changed from start to finish.

Use this in goal-setting activities as a way for students to set and track not only education but personal goals.

Sown to Grow makes it easy to differentiate for varied student learning and communication styles by asking students to do it themselves. Teachers provide the learning objective; students provide the feedback and reflection.

This is an especially valuable tool in a self-directed classroom, a homeschool environment, or an online learning ecosystem.

***

Four programs to measure, encourage, and provide opportunities for students to show their positive behaviors. What may surprise them is how much a forward-thinking attitude impacts success in all parts of their lives.

–published first on TeachHUB

More about positive reinforcement

Suggestions from Study.com

Seven Strategies for Building Positive Classrooms from ASCD

How Rewarding Positive Behavior Turned Around Our School 

For more on PBIS, visit the Department of Educations PBIS website.

Positive focus; Positive behaviors

Jacqui Murray has been teaching K-18 technology for 30 years. She is the editor/author of over a hundred tech ed resources including a K-8 technology curriculum, K-8 keyboard curriculum, K-8 Digital Citizenship curriculum. She is an adjunct professor in tech ed, Master Teacher, webmaster for four blogs, an Amazon Vine Voice reviewer, CAEP reviewer, CSTA presentation reviewer, freelance journalist on tech ed topics, and a weekly contributor to TeachHUB. You can find her resources at Structured Learning. Read Jacqui’s tech thrillers, To Hunt a Sub and Twenty-four Days.

The Case for Positive Reinforcement in Classrooms published first on https://seminarsacademy.tumblr.com/

[corpasa]

The Case for Positive Reinforcement in Classrooms

Every teacher knows that students do better with positive reinforcement. As tempting as “punishment” might sound when referring to that student who has scrambled your last nerve, to explain consequences of actions in positive terms goes much further toward student success not only in school but in the ongoing effort to build life-long learners.

“Positive reinforcement, whether it be with your family, when following laws, or with students, can best be defined as the logical consequences of doing what’s right.” –Jacqui Murray

As an education pedagogy, pursuing a classroom management system that revolves around positive reinforcement is called Positive Behavioral Interventions and Support, or PBIS. The importance of using tools that prevent disruptive behavior and support students is explained by NEA Past President Lily Eskelsen Garcia:

The most effective tool teachers have to handle problem behavior is to prevent it from occurring in the first place. Positive Behavioral Interventions and Supports (PBIS) programs help teachers recognize the significance of classroom management and preventive school discipline to maximize student success. PBIS strategies are critical to providing all young people with the best learning environment.

Committed teachers can accomplish this in a variety of ways including supportive words, prizes, special activities, certificates, badges, and modeling proper behavior. Here are four online options that support the goal of recognizing students in a positive way:

Class Dojo

Empatico

Hero K12

Sown to Grow

Class Dojo

The free app, Class Dojo, encourages and rewards positive classroom behavior (like helping others, staying on task, participating in activities, exhibiting persistence, and engaging in teamwork) and discourages negative behavior (such as bullying, disrespect, missing homework, being off task, and talking out of turn). The app works on iOS, Android, desktops, and Kindle Fire and is easy to set up. Teachers create their account,  add student names, and then track student behavior against a personalized list. Parents are automatically updated every time the teacher adds a behavior or an announcement. Teachers can share weekly or monthly reports curating class behavior by category or individual student.

90% of US K-8 classrooms use Class Dojo. Here are five ways that’s happening:

Encourage good classroom behavior by sharing the positive behaviors being focused on.

Have a conversation with students on how positive actions serve their educational and life needs.

Involve parents as partners.

Quantify student behavior in preparation for report cards and parent meetings.

Show students how to showcase their learning in personal portfolios.

Empatico

The free initiative Empatico, from The KIND Foundation, has a goal of connecting 1 million students in twenty-five countries from disparate socio-economic backgrounds. They believe that the more empathetic children become, the more in tune they are with the needs of their peers, the more they will collaborate and find creative solutions to global problems. Through the website, students broaden their worldview through meaningful interactions with peers across the globe. Teachers are provided everything necessary to make this happen including lesson plans, materials lists, a video conferencing platform, and more. Activities range from two-three hours to eight-twelve hours and may often be spread over multiple meetings.

The Empatico website offers four globally-responsive activities your students will enjoy:

Ways We Play

Community Cartographers

Helping Hands

Weather out the Window

Hero K12

Hero K12 is a cloud-based iOS and Android app that helps districts and schools manage student behavior in areas such as reduced classroom disruption, office referrals, and tardiness. Hero supports positive behavior reinforcement programs, allowing teachers and administrators to award points for positive student activity. By rewarding the good things students do every day, schools build not only better student behavior but a more positive school culture. It helps to identify what’s working and what’s not while developing new systems for addressing these. It supports building better student relationships with peers, educators, and parents. It minimizes negative behaviors by emphasizing positive behaviors, providing a tangible way for even fragile students to realize they are good people.

Four ways to use Hero in your classroom:

Set goals school- and/or District-wide considered critical to student success.

Create a Hero team to oversee the rollout of this program, track its progress, and address questions.

Start with a finite set of behaviors to be encouraged. Add more over time.

Carefully plan incentives to be authentic and student-driven.

Sown to Grow

Sown To Grow is an online student-driven performance tracker that uses the metrics of goal-setting and reflection to assess progress. The expectation is that students learn how to learn by assessing their own educational experiences as a way to determine their best strategies to become lifelong learners. Students set their goals, track their progress, and ultimately see what worked and what didn’t. Because this is student-driven, students care more about their work and doing their best. For example, if notetaking worked well as a method of achieving goals in one instance, they can transfer that successful experience to other academic endeavors.

Here are great ways to use Sown to Grow in your classes:

Sown to Grow is well-aligned with school missions that include Depth of Knowledge, John Hattie’s Visible Learning, and other philosophies that value learning to learn.

Include this in middle school and high school advisory classes as an effective way to track student progress toward self-proclaimed goals.

Include this as part of any class to track student progress from their perspective, in ways a simple grade spreadsheet can’t.

Include this in any study skills class to show students how to identify problems, make connections, and develop strategies for problem-solving and critical thinking.

In place of canned reflections, use Sown to Grow to assess student interest and involvement. Students not only preflect on activities before they start but reflect on them when finished. This provides them with a self-generated metric for how their thinking changed from start to finish.

Use this in goal-setting activities as a way for students to set and track not only education but personal goals.

Sown to Grow makes it easy to differentiate for varied student learning and communication styles by asking students to do it themselves. Teachers provide the learning objective; students provide the feedback and reflection.

This is an especially valuable tool in a self-directed classroom, a homeschool environment, or an online learning ecosystem.

***

Four programs to measure, encourage, and provide opportunities for students to show their positive behaviors. What may surprise them is how much a forward-thinking attitude impacts success in all parts of their lives.

–published first on TeachHUB

More about positive reinforcement

Suggestions from Study.com

Seven Strategies for Building Positive Classrooms from ASCD

How Rewarding Positive Behavior Turned Around Our School 

For more on PBIS, visit the Department of Educations PBIS website.

Positive focus; Positive behaviors

Jacqui Murray has been teaching K-18 technology for 30 years. She is the editor/author of over a hundred tech ed resources including a K-8 technology curriculum, K-8 keyboard curriculum, K-8 Digital Citizenship curriculum. She is an adjunct professor in tech ed, Master Teacher, webmaster for four blogs, an Amazon Vine Voice reviewer, CAEP reviewer, CSTA presentation reviewer, freelance journalist on tech ed topics, and a weekly contributor to TeachHUB. You can find her resources at Structured Learning. Read Jacqui’s tech thrillers, To Hunt a Sub and Twenty-four Days.

The Case for Positive Reinforcement in Classrooms published first on https://medium.com/@DLBusinessNow

[endevia]

The Case for Positive Reinforcement in Classrooms

Every teacher knows that students do better with positive reinforcement. As tempting as “punishment” might sound when referring to that student who has scrambled your last nerve, to explain consequences of actions in positive terms goes much further toward student success not only in school but in the ongoing effort to build life-long learners.

“Positive reinforcement, whether it be with your family, when following laws, or with students, can best be defined as the logical consequences of doing what’s right.” –Jacqui Murray

As an education pedagogy, pursuing a classroom management system that revolves around positive reinforcement is called Positive Behavioral Interventions and Support, or PBIS. The importance of using tools that prevent disruptive behavior and support students is explained by NEA Past President Lily Eskelsen Garcia:

The most effective tool teachers have to handle problem behavior is to prevent it from occurring in the first place. Positive Behavioral Interventions and Supports (PBIS) programs help teachers recognize the significance of classroom management and preventive school discipline to maximize student success. PBIS strategies are critical to providing all young people with the best learning environment.

Committed teachers can accomplish this in a variety of ways including supportive words, prizes, special activities, certificates, badges, and modeling proper behavior. Here are four online options that support the goal of recognizing students in a positive way:

Class Dojo

Empatico

Hero K12

Sown to Grow

Class Dojo

The free app, Class Dojo, encourages and rewards positive classroom behavior (like helping others, staying on task, participating in activities, exhibiting persistence, and engaging in teamwork) and discourages negative behavior (such as bullying, disrespect, missing homework, being off task, and talking out of turn). The app works on iOS, Android, desktops, and Kindle Fire and is easy to set up. Teachers create their account,  add student names, and then track student behavior against a personalized list. Parents are automatically updated every time the teacher adds a behavior or an announcement. Teachers can share weekly or monthly reports curating class behavior by category or individual student.

90% of US K-8 classrooms use Class Dojo. Here are five ways that’s happening:

Encourage good classroom behavior by sharing the positive behaviors being focused on.

Have a conversation with students on how positive actions serve their educational and life needs.

Involve parents as partners.

Quantify student behavior in preparation for report cards and parent meetings.

Show students how to showcase their learning in personal portfolios.

Empatico

The free initiative Empatico, from The KIND Foundation, has a goal of connecting 1 million students in twenty-five countries from disparate socio-economic backgrounds. They believe that the more empathetic children become, the more in tune they are with the needs of their peers, the more they will collaborate and find creative solutions to global problems. Through the website, students broaden their worldview through meaningful interactions with peers across the globe. Teachers are provided everything necessary to make this happen including lesson plans, materials lists, a video conferencing platform, and more. Activities range from two-three hours to eight-twelve hours and may often be spread over multiple meetings.

The Empatico website offers four globally-responsive activities your students will enjoy:

Ways We Play

Community Cartographers

Helping Hands

Weather out the Window

Hero K12

Hero K12 is a cloud-based iOS and Android app that helps districts and schools manage student behavior in areas such as reduced classroom disruption, office referrals, and tardiness. Hero supports positive behavior reinforcement programs, allowing teachers and administrators to award points for positive student activity. By rewarding the good things students do every day, schools build not only better student behavior but a more positive school culture. It helps to identify what’s working and what’s not while developing new systems for addressing these. It supports building better student relationships with peers, educators, and parents. It minimizes negative behaviors by emphasizing positive behaviors, providing a tangible way for even fragile students to realize they are good people.

Four ways to use Hero in your classroom:

Set goals school- and/or District-wide considered critical to student success.

Create a Hero team to oversee the rollout of this program, track its progress, and address questions.

Start with a finite set of behaviors to be encouraged. Add more over time.

Carefully plan incentives to be authentic and student-driven.

Sown to Grow

Sown To Grow is an online student-driven performance tracker that uses the metrics of goal-setting and reflection to assess progress. The expectation is that students learn how to learn by assessing their own educational experiences as a way to determine their best strategies to become lifelong learners. Students set their goals, track their progress, and ultimately see what worked and what didn’t. Because this is student-driven, students care more about their work and doing their best. For example, if notetaking worked well as a method of achieving goals in one instance, they can transfer that successful experience to other academic endeavors.

Here are great ways to use Sown to Grow in your classes:

Sown to Grow is well-aligned with school missions that include Depth of Knowledge, John Hattie’s Visible Learning, and other philosophies that value learning to learn.

Include this in middle school and high school advisory classes as an effective way to track student progress toward self-proclaimed goals.

Include this as part of any class to track student progress from their perspective, in ways a simple grade spreadsheet can’t.

Include this in any study skills class to show students how to identify problems, make connections, and develop strategies for problem-solving and critical thinking.

In place of canned reflections, use Sown to Grow to assess student interest and involvement. Students not only preflect on activities before they start but reflect on them when finished. This provides them with a self-generated metric for how their thinking changed from start to finish.

Use this in goal-setting activities as a way for students to set and track not only education but personal goals.

Sown to Grow makes it easy to differentiate for varied student learning and communication styles by asking students to do it themselves. Teachers provide the learning objective; students provide the feedback and reflection.

This is an especially valuable tool in a self-directed classroom, a homeschool environment, or an online learning ecosystem.

***

Four programs to measure, encourage, and provide opportunities for students to show their positive behaviors. What may surprise them is how much a forward-thinking attitude impacts success in all parts of their lives.

–published first on TeachHUB

More about positive reinforcement

Suggestions from Study.com

Seven Strategies for Building Positive Classrooms from ASCD

How Rewarding Positive Behavior Turned Around Our School 

For more on PBIS, visit the Department of Educations PBIS website.

Positive focus; Positive behaviors

Jacqui Murray has been teaching K-18 technology for 30 years. She is the editor/author of over a hundred tech ed resources including a K-8 technology curriculum, K-8 keyboard curriculum, K-8 Digital Citizenship curriculum. She is an adjunct professor in tech ed, Master Teacher, webmaster for four blogs, an Amazon Vine Voice reviewer, CAEP reviewer, CSTA presentation reviewer, freelance journalist on tech ed topics, and a weekly contributor to TeachHUB. You can find her resources at Structured Learning. Read Jacqui’s tech thrillers, To Hunt a Sub and Twenty-four Days.

The Case for Positive Reinforcement in Classrooms published first on https://medium.com/@greatpricecourse

[evnoweb]

The Case for Positive Reinforcement in Classrooms

Every teacher knows that students do better with positive reinforcement. As tempting as “punishment” might sound when referring to that student who has scrambled your last nerve, to explain consequences of actions in positive terms goes much further toward student success not only in school but in the ongoing effort to build life-long learners.

“Positive reinforcement, whether it be with your family, when following laws, or with students, can best be defined as the logical consequences of doing what’s right.” –Jacqui Murray

As an education pedagogy, pursuing a classroom management system that revolves around positive reinforcement is called Positive Behavioral Interventions and Support, or PBIS. The importance of using tools that prevent disruptive behavior and support students is explained by NEA Past President Lily Eskelsen Garcia:

The most effective tool teachers have to handle problem behavior is to prevent it from occurring in the first place. Positive Behavioral Interventions and Supports (PBIS) programs help teachers recognize the significance of classroom management and preventive school discipline to maximize student success. PBIS strategies are critical to providing all young people with the best learning environment.

Committed teachers can accomplish this in a variety of ways including supportive words, prizes, special activities, certificates, badges, and modeling proper behavior. Here are four online options that support the goal of recognizing students in a positive way:

Class Dojo

Empatico

Hero K12

Sown to Grow

Class Dojo

The free app, Class Dojo, encourages and rewards positive classroom behavior (like helping others, staying on task, participating in activities, exhibiting persistence, and engaging in teamwork) and discourages negative behavior (such as bullying, disrespect, missing homework, being off task, and talking out of turn). The app works on iOS, Android, desktops, and Kindle Fire and is easy to set up. Teachers create their account,  add student names, and then track student behavior against a personalized list. Parents are automatically updated every time the teacher adds a behavior or an announcement. Teachers can share weekly or monthly reports curating class behavior by category or individual student.

90% of US K-8 classrooms use Class Dojo. Here are five ways that’s happening:

Encourage good classroom behavior by sharing the positive behaviors being focused on.

Have a conversation with students on how positive actions serve their educational and life needs.

Involve parents as partners.

Quantify student behavior in preparation for report cards and parent meetings.

Show students how to showcase their learning in personal portfolios.

Empatico

The free initiative Empatico, from The KIND Foundation, has a goal of connecting 1 million students in twenty-five countries from disparate socio-economic backgrounds. They believe that the more empathetic children become, the more in tune they are with the needs of their peers, the more they will collaborate and find creative solutions to global problems. Through the website, students broaden their worldview through meaningful interactions with peers across the globe. Teachers are provided everything necessary to make this happen including lesson plans, materials lists, a video conferencing platform, and more. Activities range from two-three hours to eight-twelve hours and may often be spread over multiple meetings.

The Empatico website offers four globally-responsive activities your students will enjoy:

Ways We Play

Community Cartographers

Helping Hands

Weather out the Window

Hero K12

Hero K12 is a cloud-based iOS and Android app that helps districts and schools manage student behavior in areas such as reduced classroom disruption, office referrals, and tardiness. Hero supports positive behavior reinforcement programs, allowing teachers and administrators to award points for positive student activity. By rewarding the good things students do every day, schools build not only better student behavior but a more positive school culture. It helps to identify what’s working and what’s not while developing new systems for addressing these. It supports building better student relationships with peers, educators, and parents. It minimizes negative behaviors by emphasizing positive behaviors, providing a tangible way for even fragile students to realize they are good people.

Four ways to use Hero in your classroom:

Set goals school- and/or District-wide considered critical to student success.

Create a Hero team to oversee the rollout of this program, track its progress, and address questions.

Start with a finite set of behaviors to be encouraged. Add more over time.

Carefully plan incentives to be authentic and student-driven.

Sown to Grow

Sown To Grow is an online student-driven performance tracker that uses the metrics of goal-setting and reflection to assess progress. The expectation is that students learn how to learn by assessing their own educational experiences as a way to determine their best strategies to become lifelong learners. Students set their goals, track their progress, and ultimately see what worked and what didn’t. Because this is student-driven, students care more about their work and doing their best. For example, if notetaking worked well as a method of achieving goals in one instance, they can transfer that successful experience to other academic endeavors.

Here are great ways to use Sown to Grow in your classes:

Sown to Grow is well-aligned with school missions that include Depth of Knowledge, John Hattie’s Visible Learning, and other philosophies that value learning to learn.

Include this in middle school and high school advisory classes as an effective way to track student progress toward self-proclaimed goals.

Include this as part of any class to track student progress from their perspective, in ways a simple grade spreadsheet can’t.

Include this in any study skills class to show students how to identify problems, make connections, and develop strategies for problem-solving and critical thinking.

In place of canned reflections, use Sown to Grow to assess student interest and involvement. Students not only preflect on activities before they start but reflect on them when finished. This provides them with a self-generated metric for how their thinking changed from start to finish.

Use this in goal-setting activities as a way for students to set and track not only education but personal goals.

Sown to Grow makes it easy to differentiate for varied student learning and communication styles by asking students to do it themselves. Teachers provide the learning objective; students provide the feedback and reflection.

This is an especially valuable tool in a self-directed classroom, a homeschool environment, or an online learning ecosystem.

***

Four programs to measure, encourage, and provide opportunities for students to show their positive behaviors. What may surprise them is how much a forward-thinking attitude impacts success in all parts of their lives.

–published first on TeachHUB

More about positive reinforcement

Suggestions from Study.com

Seven Strategies for Building Positive Classrooms from ASCD

How Rewarding Positive Behavior Turned Around Our School 

For more on PBIS, visit the Department of Educations PBIS website.

Positive focus; Positive behaviors

Jacqui Murray has been teaching K-18 technology for 30 years. She is the editor/author of over a hundred tech ed resources including a K-8 technology curriculum, K-8 keyboard curriculum, K-8 Digital Citizenship curriculum. She is an adjunct professor in tech ed, Master Teacher, webmaster for four blogs, an Amazon Vine Voice reviewer, CAEP reviewer, CSTA presentation reviewer, freelance journalist on tech ed topics, and a weekly contributor to TeachHUB. You can find her resources at Structured Learning. Read Jacqui’s tech thrillers, To Hunt a Sub and Twenty-four Days.

The Case for Positive Reinforcement in Classrooms published first on https://medium.com/@DigitalDLCourse

[theconservativebrief]

Most newspaper restaurant critics are best known to people in the region they write about. But when Jonathan Gold, the Pulitzer-winning food critic for the Los Angeles Times, died at the age of 57 on Saturday night, the outpouring of tributes that stretched well beyond LA’s borders made it clear that he was no ordinary restaurant critic.

Of course, Gold — who had been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer only weeks earlier — was well known to Angelenos. In addition to his writing in the LA Times, he’d written for LA Weekly and Gourmet, and was a regular on KCRW’s program Good Food. His anticipated annual map of 101 great LA restaurants was a fixture for the LA food scene, a guide for locals and newbies alike.

But Gold was beloved far beyond Los Angeles. That’s not to say he “transcended” LA; it’s more that he embodied LA, embedded himself in its culture and, as many people attested following the news of his death, epitomized what Angelenos love about their city:

A very sad day for LA as Jonathan Gold left us. He was the soul of this city and all of its amazing flavors. He was a personal friend and inspiration–there will never be another like him. My heart goes out to the Gold family with the millions of Angelenos who loved him. EG

— Eric Garcetti (@ericgarcetti) July 22, 2018

I have never been sadder. Jonathan Gold is gone.

— ruthreichl (@ruthreichl) July 22, 2018

“I write about taco stands and fancy French restaurants to try to get people less afraid of their neighbors and to live in their entire city instead of sticking to their one part of town.” — Jonathan Gold. RIP to a hero and a giant. I love this city because he did.

— Andy Greenwald (@andygreenwald) July 22, 2018

yesterday I had lunch alone at Zankou Chicken, where a Gold quote about the garlic sauce is posted on the wall, and was thinking about how Zankou and Jonathan Gold are exactly what LA means to me

— Molly Lambert (@mollylambert) July 22, 2018

Yet the praise went far beyond those who lived in Gold’s city, spilling over to other artists, writers, and critics who work in various media all over the country.

Gold’s evocative prose sparkled in ways that were enjoyable to read even if you were far from LA. NPR’s tribute, for instance, cited a passage from his writing in which he “described mole negro, a Mexican dish, as so dark that it seems to suck the light out of the airspace around it, spicy as a novella and bitter as tears.” Gold continued writing until just a few weeks ago, which means you can read, for instance, his June 15 review of the new Israeli restaurant Bavel, which contains passages like this:

You will be drinking salty island wines from Sardinia and the Canary Islands. Your date will barely hear you above the din. You will wonder whether there is a point to an old-fashioned made with lamb-fat-washed bourbon or a pisco sour with pink peppercorns, and you will decide that there might be. You will probably be having a very good time.

But another factor that extended Gold’s fame past LA’s borders was the release of the acclaimed 2015 documentary City of Gold. The New York Times critic A.O. Scott wrote that the movie “transcends its modest methods, largely because it connects Mr. Gold’s appealing personality with a passionate argument about the civic culture of Los Angeles and the place of food within it.”

City of Gold, directed by Laura Gabbert and currently streaming on Hulu, follows Gold as he drives his green pickup truck through his beloved Los Angeles, eating at a handful of hole-in-the-wall, strip mall restaurants that most people just blithely sail past, talking about his career and his approach to his work. It’s an illuminating portrait not just of a writer but of a city, and as Scott put it in his review, it is “worth attending to even if you think you have no interest in food, California or criticism.”

For a critic in any medium — even, say, a New York-based film critic like myself — City of Gold is also a kind of masterclass in the things that good critics do. As many noted over the weekend, a hallmark of Gold’s writing is that he wrote not just about eating, but also about culture and about being a person, and that’s what the film underlines well.

That’s why, watching City of Gold, I actually fist-pumped a few times, as the film pointed to a lot of what made Gold such an important critic. Two in particular stuck with me, qualities that good critics aspire to, no matter what they’re writing about.

City of Gold often shows visually, on a map, the LA neighborhood in which the restaurant Gold is about to visit is geographically placed. And — as a number of people note in the film — it shows how Gold’s work often helped Angelenos connect the seemingly disparate parts of their sprawling city.

“I’m trying to get people to be less afraid of their neighbors,” Gold said in a 2015 interview.

A prime example of this is Gold’s 1998 essay “The Year I Ate Pico Boulevard,” about his experiences eating his way down a main drag that cuts across LA. It’s an essay about food, but really it’s about the culture that gave rise to that food, and the ways the connecting flavors and experiences work as a cipher for the broader city and its history.

Jonathan Gold in City of Gold. Sundance Institute

Of course, restaurant criticism is one of the few areas of critique that is expressly tied to physical locations, and thus the restaurant critic’s “mapping” job is literal.

But it’s part of other critical pursuits as well. As a film critic, for instance, I partly think of my job as “mapping” the movie terrain for the reader. Different critics do this in different ways: some are better at drawing the map on the ground of film history, others through the politics of the industry, and others through the technical and theoretical aspects of it. Some, like me, like to figure out where the paths the film carves into the cultural landscape intersect with other regions, like literature and religion and philosophy.

All critics, though, do some mapping work, and you should walk away from a good piece of criticism understanding more than just that a work of art exists, but where and how it exists. Critics are cartographers.

A distinction City of Gold makes is between the idea of writing about food and the idea of writing about eating. Gold wrote about eating.

That’s a small distinction that might not seem too important, but to the critic it’s everything. Critics can’t view things “objectively.” We’re humans. What we can do is pay very close attention to our experience with a film through the lens we bring to the table (or the screening room or the gallery or the concert), then articulate it as carefully as possible. When we’re successful, the reader feels freed to have their own experience with the film.

Gold was the living manifestation of this way of thinking about criticism. His writing, particularly in the latter part of his career, was often positive and devoted to a democratized range of restaurants. A good meal could be had anywhere, no matter the trappings. In the film, he remarks that he often went to a restaurant five times or more before writing about it, and that he doesn’t take notes because he wants to be able to absorb the experience.

Sundance Institute

Then, when he writes about it, it reads like poetry — full of descriptions that draw on a cross-pollinated blend of mediums and references. (Before he wrote about food, Gold wrote about music, and especially hip-hop.) It’s hard to evoke tastes and smells in words, but Gold pulled it off by appealing to all the senses.

Of course, what you got in his writing was Gold’s palate, not your own. But by putting words to his own experience, you got a taste of what he had experienced, and the urge to go try it for yourself. And that carried over for the experience of the chefs, too.

In the documentary, Roy Choi (of the BBQ taco truck Kogi and fast-food restaurant Locol) tries to explain: “The weird thing about my first interaction with Jonathan is he helped me figure out what I was trying to do. When he writes about me, he understands and is able to articulate the little kind of secret tangled webs I have inside that I’m trying to put out into the plate — he understands it. And I’ve never explained it to him.”

That’s what critics are after. It’s a glorious feeling to not just articulate one’s own experience, but help an artist put words to what they experienced as they made the work, too — whether it’s a movie or a painting or a song. A critic can’t read minds, but often artists aren’t able to fully explain what they’ve made, either. In an ideal situation, working in concert, criticism helps expand the art, and the art expands the critic, too.

Doing this requires a mastery of the critic’s own form, which is writing, and Gold was a master at this as well; in one of my favorite passages in the film, one commentator (performing an act of criticism, one might say) explains how Gold harnessed and used the second person point of view — that its, addressing the reader as “you” — to make his writing even better. Reading Gold, you can hear a well-read mind in love with language turning over phrases till they sparkle.

So Gold’s work does exemplify the best of what criticism has to offer. (It’s no mistake that he is, to date, the first and only restaurant critic to receive the Pulitzer Prize for criticism.)

City of Gold helps show how and why that’s true — and why, in the wake of Gold’s passing, the world could use a lot more critics, eaters, and neighbors like him.

City of Gold is available to stream on Hulu and to digitally rent on Amazon, Vudu, YouTube, iTunes, and Google Play.

Original Source -> Jonathan Gold wrote about food, but his approach to criticism was universal

via The Conservative Brief