#albion. (prototype)

[thepotentialof2007]

Iota Magazine: Mis Arnott, your association with motor racing is unique. This season Arnott cars have raced frequently, and your activities have extended beyond manufacture to servicing and to team management. Did you intend to go into production when you built your first 500, or was that just an expression of your inherent interest in racing? Daphne Arnott: George Thornton and I made the prototype for fun. One day at Brands Hatch Bob Brown of Bromley saw the car and fell in love with it. He drove the car to win its first race, and then, encouraged by his enthusiasm we decided to manufacture some more. Bob Brown has been our main supporter through many trials, for which we are very grateful. Iota: We referred to your inherent interest in motor racing. Did your early association with racing through your father's activities first arouse your enthusiasm? Arnott: Yes. I come from a long line of engineers dating back to my great grandfather, who was Captain and Secretary of the Bath Road Club. He was also in control of Werner Motor Cycles, who were the originators of the vertical twin. My father is designer of the Arnott supercharger and markets them through his company, Carburettors, Ltd. Iota: But when did you become interested enough in racing to want to take some active part in it? Arnott: In my early days at Brooklands and then as a spectator at Brands Hatch during 1951, when two makes of cars predominated, and it seemed to me there was room for another. Iota: Did you do all the design work on the Arnott yourself? Arnott: No. It was the combined effort of George Thornton and myself. Iota: What have you learned from this season's racing? Arnott: Enough to write a book, but primarily to stick to one's own decisions and not be sidetracked by well-meaning helpers.

Iota: Why did you choose torsion bar suspension for the Arnott 500? Arnott: For Formula III cars I believe it is the suspension of the future. Iota: We hear you are going to use Albion gearboxes in the 1953 cars. Why is this? Arnott: Because the Albion has proved to be the most reliable in every way and it has the best selection of ration to offer. In our prototype car the Albion completed 2,000 hard racing miles without trouble. Iota: What other new features are to be incorporated in next season's car? Arnott: Recent trials have proved to us that the design we have settled on is fast, devoid of roll and virtually unspinnable. There will only be minor modifications - including considerably lighter road wheels. Iota: Do you make these wheels yourself? Arnott: Yes. We machine the entire wheel at our Edgware works and the weight of our newest front wheel is only 10 lb., including hub and races. Iota: In view of your father's long experience, have you any special carburation modifications in view? Arnott: Next season we shall be using a special Arnott carburretor, but I cannot give you any details of that just yet. Iota: What are your views on swing-axle rear suspension? Arnott: Although I think the swing axle system has much to recommend it - it is light and simple - I believe that durability is the important factor in the long run. The main criticism I have against swing axles is the extreme stresses thrown on the driving shafts which tend to fracture at the hub ends. I base my opinion on this season's record, when wheels have been lost on swing-axle cars on numerous occasions, luckily with no fatality to drivers, but there have been very awkward moments for spectators and for other competitors. Iota: Did you find that the long-chassis car was superior to the short-chassis prototype? Arnott: It all depends on the driver's preference. The short chassis prototype does not drift. The longer chassis does. Iota: How many cars have you produced? Arnott: Six cars last season. Our intended production rate was hampered by various modifications incorporated during the year - inevitable with a new design. Iota: What are your future production plans? Arnott: During this winter we intend to build twenty new cars for delivery early in February. Iota: Have you done any competition driving? Arnott: No. To date I have had little time for competition driving. Iota: Do you intend to drive an Arnott in competition? Arnott: Yes but I am one of the few females who agree with men about "Women drivers." A great deal of unwarranted publicity surrounds a woman racing driver, and whether or not she can drive seems unimportant. When I feel I am competent enough to enter a race I will, but I shall be heavily disguised as a man. Iota: Are you running a "works" team next year? Arnott: Yes, but we have not decided how it will be done. Iota: Do you intend to continue indefinitely with a "works" team or will you confine your racing to one "works" entry when your cars have stronger numerical representation? Arnott: We have never run a "works" team, I should like to make that clear. One of the cars in the team has always belonged to me and I will continue to race one car next year. If a team proves to be a commercial proposition for all participants, then I shall certainly continue with it. Iota: It is apparent from your answers that you are a business woman, an engineer and a 500 c.c. motor racing enthusiast. You combine these activities very successfully, but do you find it an advantage or otherwise in being a woman in such [a] competitive sphere? Arnott: It took some time to convince people that a woman could take motor racing seriously.

[x]

Arnott’s 1955 Le Mans’ entry [x]

Other cars built by Arnott in its seven years as a constructor included a supercharged Austin A30-powered sportscar, a streamliner for record-breaking attempts, and a GT car, although a variety of other cars were also made.                                                          While Arnott did not blow away the field in races, they did manage to break nine International Class I records at Montlhery in October 1953. John Brise, father of Formula 1 driver Tony Brise, piloted the 500cc streamliner – based on the standard 500cc chassis but with beautifully sculpted bodywork – to a fastest lap of 122mph, and set new records for 50km, 50 miles, 100km, 100 miles, 200km, 200 miles, 500km, 1 hour, and 3 hours. In 1955, Daphne Arnott took an eight-person team to the ill-fated 24 Hours of Le Mans endurance race. Their 1,100cc Coventry-Climax powered car suffered an accident in practice, and so the team did not start the race. Only two of the eight drivers had completed any running at the time of the accident, and Arnott was not one of them.

Arnott was more slightly successful at the 1957 Le Mans event, when the team ran a Cooper-Climax powered version of their GT car – the team did not finish the race, thanks to a dropped valve, but they were able to start it. It would be Arnott’s last attempt at the legendary endurance event, and the failure led to the end of the marque.

- Kate Walker [x]

[giraffebazooka]

I mentioned off hand that Eddie had a parasite in his bio, here's said parasite.

EDDIES CONSCIENCE

Isaac is a bio-mechanical parasite created by Sun.co currently sharing a body with Eddie Ó Braonáin. He was created pre-Ragnarok in an experiment code named "Project Counterfeit". Headed by Doctor Sita Vale, the aim of Project Counterfeit was to bring influential people "back from the dead".

The real Isaac Gargoyle was a fashion designer from the smog covered industrial land of Albion who died during the great vampire plague, a full 2 centuries before Project Counterfeit began testing. He and other long dead figures where selected, seemingly at random, to be prototypes.

The amorphous black ooze calling itself Isaac was created by reconstructing the origional Isaac Gargoyles personality using various recordings, documents and historical accounts. All this information was then imprinted into Sun.co's experimental "Smart Ooze" a bio-mechanical mass capable of registering and assimilating new data.

The idea was to implant this smart ooze into a host body and then let it take control of said host, effectivly allowing the once dead rich and powerful to come back to life. While the experiment was a resounding success and a good few parasites where created, the premature Ragnarok happened before Sun.co could properly sell this service to the ultra wealthy.

Isaac was abandoned in the lab along with the other prototypes, without a host, he remained dormant for centuries before eventually being found by scavengers. Isaac traded hands more than a few times over the next few decades, never being freed from his dormant state, eventually finding himself in the gigantic prison of Jotunn.

It is in Jotunn where he met Eddie, a dim-witted Chimpanzee Beastfolk who thought the jar full of black ooze was edible. Isaacs dormancy was finally broken, finding himself in a strange new world with a perfectly servicable host body, he then quickly relinquished control back to his new host when he scanned his mind and realized he was trapped in a nightmareish helhole with a very small chance of escape, better having a bag of meat doing the hard work for you than taking over said bag of meats body and doing the work yourself.

Now Eddie and Isaac have a mutual agreement; Eddie does all the back breaking manual labor and Isaac continues to live inside his body, healing his wounds. Now, having freshly escaped Jotunn with Eddie, he's forced to tag along on the dumb apes quest to find the city of Sanctum, he doesn't know much about the place other than what Eddie told him and what he could gleam off old advertisments, the place sounds too good to be true and doesn't share Eddies optemism in their journey.

[annazimmercapstone]

Prototyping, v1.3

This week I drafted up some posters and then printed them using the risograph.

But first, I spent some time familiarizing myself with some worldbuilding projects that have gained some notoriety online.

RESEARCH

Mystery Flesh Pit has been a staple reference point for the worldbuilding aspect of my capstone. This week I looked back at the fake advertisements and government-issued flyers the creator Trevor Roberts fabricated.

Lesle Kieu's "Recovered Documents" is a great source that stays true to its artistic style while still keeping in line with the found document style exposition. It includes some gnarly illustrations serving as photographs and realistic communications. It's very tactical and served as a major stylistic inspiration for a personal comic I've been cooking on the back burner.

Local58 was one of the first of its kind in the genre now known as Analog Horror (in fact, it was what coined the term). While the vast majority of this content is videographic, it is still a strong example of worldbuilding through limited channels of media.

The Hookland Guide run by David Southwell is a semificitonal exploration of the lost county of Hookland, England. It emphasizes word over visual medium, although it does semi-regularly employ black-and-white photography in the posts/entries. The author describes it as "the psychogeography of a place that doesn’t exist built around the real myth circuits, Albionic shadows and actual places of a 1970s childhood."

My biggest takeaway from these projects is the grounding in reality and knowing when to exaggerate and when to pull from our own cultural reality.

PROTOTYPING

All images included are either my own or free to use from pexels.com. I think using the risograph was apt since it does use soy-based ink and rice-paper in its process. Very biological.

Get Connected is like this world's version of Got Milk? except it's a government program encouraging people to tap into the Mycelliac Network. It's highspeed and a great solution to the growing power deficit caused by too high demand for traditional biological power agents. The fungi pictured here is Physarum polycephalum, the single-celled slime mold that can efficiently navigate a maze. It's also yellow and ended up dictating the color palette for this first batch of prints.

Who doesn't love the saints? Except for the protestants, I guess.

This is exploring some deeply ecologically ingrained spirituality that still poses an authority as an organized religion/ideology. I reused the Physarum and overlayed it behind the icon of the Madonna.

Might redo this one with an original illustration and change the name to Anthropocene... or maybe there will be multiple saint figures!

Tourism is alive and thriving in Our Beautiful Country! You should totally Come Visit. I just photoshopped some mushrooms into this one. Honestly, it's quite comical and definitely warrants a redo since I couldn't find open-source images of the fungi I was imagining in my head (the giant stalk-like prehistoric phototaxis).

And finally one risograph in "full" color (approx. CMYK) at 8.5''x11''. I made this design a day or so after the others and after Wednesday's group critique. I was advised to continue iterating and include more advertisement images since "capitalism has us all in a chokehold." I'm still considering what the economic system of this world I'm archiving will look like, but the image and consumption exist both in and outside of systems of consumption.

This is an ad for a hypothetical archival organization branching out to individual denizens seeking memory aid services. I imagine this is deeply associated with the government as this world has little privatization. The bottom text reads:

"Contact your government-appointed community representative at your local connection point for more information. MycellNet cannot be held liable for any damages sustained by consenting participants. MycellNet should not serve as a full replacement for your district’s community-sustained archive. MycellNet is filed under government license 536B and enjoys all powers litigated to 536B organizations."

I'm attempting to tap into some world concerns regarding the preservation of memory and data to decay, both on a community level and an individual level. The "Get Connected" mycelium will certainly help solve this issue.

[taperwolf]

See, in my head, there are two prototype creeks. There's Spanish Creek, a tributary of the Feather River in northern California, which is fairly deep and set in its singular course because it has cut itself a canyon through the Sierras. Spring floods tend to rearrange the surroundings a little bit — moving some rocks about, knocking trees down, depositing sand — but it doesn't wiggle much.

Then there's Connor Creek in southern Idaho, which wiggles through high-mountain pasture land between towns named for islands — Albion and Malta and Elba — before eventually winding up in the Snake River, and thence to the Columbia. Really , it's barely more than a stream, for all that it's got rainbow and cutthroat trout in it. In the local parlance, it's not a "creek", it's a "crick", the sort that you're liable to find yourself up without a paddle.

Er. Anyway, That's What Creek Means to Me.

remember: wiggly creeks are beautiful because wiggly creeks have more creek per creek!

In this household, we despise CHANNELIZATION

[gebo4482]

Albion. (Prototype)

[shibasaurusrex]

𝗠𝗲𝗺𝗽𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗥𝗼𝘄𝗲 𝗣𝗵𝘆𝘀𝗶𝗰𝗮𝗹 𝗔𝗽𝗽𝗲𝗮𝗿𝗮𝗻𝗰𝗲

Memphis is a 29 year old Hispanic woman, standing at 5’1” and weighing 129lbs. She has straight shoulder length black hair with tints of brown and chestnut eyes, whilst her body type is toned / athletic with a top hourglass figure. Underneath her left eye is a small beauty mark and a very faint dusting of freckles sits over her nose, with the majority of her body being covered in numerous tattoos.

Along the length of her left arm up to her shoulder blade is a trail of black and blue stars of various different sizes, a few stray smaller ones sitting behind her left ear in the pattern of a constellation which can be seen whenever she wears her hair tied up. Another tattoo sits on her left side, a pair of small pointed dog ears on her left wrist in tribute to Blanco back home in Panama. Not long after Addy was welcomed into the Cass family, she added more to the design, two tiny pawprints just underneath the ears. A black and white chemistry tattoo for the chemical formula serotonin sits along her right clavicle bone, and a tiny tattoo of a mouse cursor is visible on the index finger of her right hand. Following her wedding to Nigel, she had a design inked onto her right wrist to celebrate their marriage, a laurel wreath with the Greek symbol for ‘ love ’ in the centre. On the back of her neck is a black barcode tattoo, and further down in the centre of her back is a small lotus flower, coloured in shades of multiple watercolours, primarily blue and purple, whilst just above her left ankle sits three tiny musical notes. Additionally, whilst it may not be a tattoo, she also has a scar on the left side of her abdomen from where she shot by Rempart’s robot prototype, and she did consider concealing it with another tattoo, but ultimately decided against it and left it uncovered.

As well as tattoos, she also has a number of piercings, which include her nape, helix, lobe and dimples. She usually wears these at all times, except for instances such as work and anything involving personal hygiene.

Makeup wise, she doesn’t like anything too dramatic, but she’ll use a few cosmetic products to make her features more defined. Eyeliner is by far her favourite, and she’ll almost always wear it, usually in either a ‘ winged ’ or ‘ cat eye ’ style. If she does use eye shadow or concealer, then it’s in a colour very similar to her skin tone, as she’s a firm believer in the ‘ less is more ’ philosophy. Despite this however, she’ll wear lipstick on a regular basis, her favourite shades being magenta and scarlet.

Her clothing style is simple yet fashionable, and some might even consider it ‘ tomboyish ’. The only time she’ll ever be seen in a skirt or dress is for work, whether it’s actually whilst she’s on shift in the White Tower, or attending a formal event in the name of Albion. Usually wearing either leggings or shorts with tights and high tops, she’ll almost always have a leather jacket or a hoodie on, with the latter having the sleeves rolled up because of her smaller than average stature. Underneath, her innerwear consists of either a t-shirt or tank top, depending on the weather or what activities she plans on doing that particular day. If her hair isn’t tied up into a ponytail, then she wears it loose, often with either a beanie or snapback cap worn backwards. In terms of jewellery alongside her piercings, she wears a black lace choker with a ribbon tied into a tiny bow on the side, and a bracelet on each of her wrists. The first is one that she made herself out of an old pair of black earpods, twisting intricately around her wrist before being tied in a knot, whilst the other that sits on her right wrist was a gift from Santana. Created out of guitar picks and beads, this is what she considers one of her most prized possessions, as it helps to calm her down considerably whenever she’s on the verge of a panic attack.

[annoyed-galaxy]

One Moment at Sea

Welp no shame. This is pretty old, but some nice bonding moment between Sparrow and Reaver cause why not. Posted this on AO3 so feel free to read it over there as well but I'll also post it here cause why not.

What was she doing here honestly? Out on the seas in Reaver’s stupid prototype ship. No sails, it only ran off of steam produced by coal that would turn some device propelling the ship forward. Honestly though, this could barely pass as a ship. It was barely bigger than a fishing boat. Sparrow guessed it made sense since Reaver had never tried this out before and there was no point in spending a lot of money on something that wasn’t going to work. So far, it was doing pretty good.

Sparrow was actually impressed. She didn’t take Reaver to be an inventor. But knowing him, he probably stole some of these ideas from someone else and just had the money to actually make it. Sparrow kind of didn’t care. It was pretty peaceful. She stood at the front of the boat, leaning against the railing watching the water part in front of her. There was no land around them, just the open sea. It did make her slightly nervous to be around so much water with no land.

Still, it was the most peace she had gotten ever since...well since she was born. It was kind of sad that this was the only time she had ever experienced peace within her life.

“Enjoying the view?” a voice came from behind her.

Well. Peace ruined.

Sparrow looked over her shoulder at Reaver who was wiping soot off his face. “What were you doing?” she asked.

“Oh well, turns out the coal will run out. So unfortunately I had to shovel more into the engine. Now I’m all dirty,” Reaver complained looking down at his clothes.

Sparrow rolled her eyes and motioned to the open water around them. “You have an endless source of water to clean your clothes,” she snorted.

“Ha ha, very funny,” Reaver rolled his eyes. He joined her at the front of the boat and leaned against the railing. His arm brushed against hers, but she didn’t move.

“Please tell me this thing will get us back to Albion,” Sparrow clucked looking around. “We got this far and there is no longer any sort of land in sight.”

Reaver chuckled. “Of course it will get us back. I calculated how much coal we would need to power this lovely thing and got a little extra. Besides, due to its size, it’s not going to consume much.”

“Yeah about that,” Sparrow started. She pointed behind her to where the wheel was. It was on a deck above what she had assumed was the one and only quarter on this floating hell. There was also a small trapdoor that led to the “engine”. “Why is there only one quarter?” she asked.

Reaver smirked and raised an eyebrow. “Well, to save on space obviously,” he drawled. “Besides, you don’t mind sharing a bed with me anymore do you?”

A blush spread across Sparrow’s face. They hadn’t engaged in any sexual activity, but they had slept in the same bedroll when traveling on the road when it was too cold one night. She had hated that night. Reaver had no problem snuggling up to her, but she was annoyed. Mainly annoyed because she had liked it when he held her. Liked it when had nuzzled his face into her neck. Ever since, they had shared a bed only twice due to similar reasons. Or when there was only one inn room left and it was too small for him to sleep on the floor. She had really hated being in the same bed as him because when he had held her, she didn’t push him away.

A thumb stroking her cheek pulled her out of her thoughts. She blinked a couple times and saw Reaver looking at her with a smile on his face. She frowned, but did not slap his hand away. “Can I help you?” she muttered.

Reaver didn’t say anything, he just moved in closer and brought his other arm around her back. He pulled her into him. Sparrow’s blush deepened and she froze. Part of her screamed to push him away and off overboard, but another part wanted to lean into him.

“Has anyone ever told you you are beautiful?” Reaver said suddenly, his eyes scanning her face. Sparrow had never realized how blue his eyes were before.

“Only when they were trying to get in my good graces or just wanted to throw a random compliment at me,” she grumbled.

“No one has told you sincerely?” he asked, tilting his head to the side. The hand on her cheek moved to her chin.

“N-no,” Sparrow stammered really hating how she liked him now caressing her lips.

“Well, I think despite everything you’ve been through, you are still absolutely gorgeous,” he whispered. “Stunningly breathtaking. I have never met someone as interesting as you Sparrow. You intrigue me so much that I don’t want to let you go.”

“Is that why you kept me around trying to keep me alive?” Sparrow breathed, her breath almost hitching as Reaver leaned in closer.

“Yes,” he replied plainly. “I don’t want to lose my source of entertainment.” He smirked as he said that. Sparrow had half the mind the punch him, but she was still frozen. He was so close their breaths mingled. “I find it interesting how you claim to hate me, yet I have gotten this close and you haven’t punched me or pushed me away,” Reaver chuckled. It seems he had noticed that she was paralyzed and how she liked being held by him.

“What’s the point of fighting you?” Sparrow murmured, looking away. She put her hands on his chest, but she didn’t push.

“So what would you do if I kissed you?” he whispered, gripping her chin with his thumb and forefinger and forcing her to look back at him. She was one hundred percent positive that her entire face was red, even the blue Will lines that traveled across her skin could be red with how much she was burning up.

Again, part of her screamed no, but another part of her really did want him to kiss her. He had kissed her only once and that was right after the balverines had attacked her. But that had been just a small peck on the lips that lasted only a couple seconds. It was right before he offered his proposition to her. It had been a crazy year since then, but now she was on the open sea, in his arms with him literally just centimeters away from her lips asking what she would do if he kissed her.

She looked at his eyes but they were on her lips. Only when he realized she was looking at him did he look up. Sparrow had never really looked into his eyes before. They matched the ocean around them.

Her lips parted just slightly and Reaver took notice as his eyes darted back to her lips.

He took it as an invitation.

Sparrow was overcome with so many emotions when Reaver had finally closed the gap and put his lips on hers. Sparrow closed her eyes and hated how her hands moved from his chest to the back of his neck pulling him closer to her. Reaver took that as another invitation and his tongue broke through her lips. Sparrow was lost in bliss as their tongues danced together. Reaver’s arms moved right above her bottom and he pulled her closer. Their bodies were now touching and their mouths were ravishing each other. Sparrow hated how much she loved this.

Reaver had pulled away from the kiss, but he went to her neck immediately with kisses. They had turned so that Sparrow’s back was against the railing. She tilted her head back as Reaver left delicate kisses on her neck. Then her body lit up when he dragged his tongue from the bottom of her neck to her chin. Her breathed hitched and she really hated how it did.

“I didn’t think you’d allow this, Sparrow,” Reaver breathed, his mouth by her ear now.

Sparrow groaned. “Shut up.”

Reaver chuckled, but went back to placing kisses on her throat. As he was kissing her, his hands traveled down her back and cupped her bottom. She had gasped when he pulled her against him, but by some weird instinct, she wrapped her legs around him. Reaver chuckled and pulled away from her neck just to kiss her again. Sparrow’s fingers dug into his hair, messing it up, as their kiss became more and more fiery.

She hated this so much. Hated how much she loved it. Hated the taste of him. Hated how she felt in his harms. She hated everything about this, but that’s what made it better. They broke apart and were panting. Sparrow’s hands moved to Reaver’s cheeks and she just looked at him. She hated how she was falling for such a selfish asshole.

“Tell me one thing Reaver,” she whispered, caressing the heart mole on his cheek, “did you ever care about anyone before? And I mean at all.”

Reaver raised an eyebrow. “Why do you ask?”

“Because the way I see it, there was someone you used to love,” Sparrow whispered. “And you lost them. And to make yourself never feel that pain ever again, you isolated yourself and pushed anyone who got too close away...or well just made sure no one ever got that close.”

Reaver’s mouth parted slightly and Sparrow could see genuine surprise on his face. “W-what makes you say that?” he stammered. Odd. Reaver never stumbled on his words.

Sparrow smiled and slid her thumb across his lower lip. “I found some old journals of yours. I couldn’t read them but I paid someone to read them for me. Don’t worry, I managed to erase their memory so only I know your secrets Reaver.” Sparrow’s smile widened as Reaver’s eyes went wide with shock and disbelief. “You don’t have to say anything. I’ve come to realize that you and I are not so different. We lost people close to us and went about that loss in very different ways. You didn’t want to die so you made a deal to live forever. I wanted vengeance but when I found it and lost my purpose, I didn’t want to live anymore. Somehow, I just think that makes us work well together. You don’t have to call it love cause I know you’d claim to be above such feeling, but I just think this was meant to be. At least for a time.”

The entire time she spoke, her thumb ran across Reaver’s lip and her other hand played with a strand of his hair. “Now would be the time to dump me in the ocean and leave,” Sparrow added, her tone suddenly becoming darker. “Or do you sincerely want to keep me?”

Reaver was too stunned to really say anything. Sparrow managed to say things that resurfaced old dark feelings he had refused to acknowledge ever again. She read him like an open book. It made him...nervous. But she was right. He hated to admit it, but he was actually caring for her, beyond her entertainment value. He loved seeing her yell at him, loved seeing her get feisty when people refused to back down, loved seeing her fight. Most of all, he loved it when she kissed him back. When she doesn’t push him away. They were no strangers to giving themselves away to other men and women, but he didn’t think they had ever felt so right in each other’s arms.

He knew he should stop. If he opened his heart again, he knew it would break. Sparrow already gave her life away for him. It wouldn’t be long before she started to wither away. After all, when he saw her on the beach a year later after she made the sacrifice, her hair had turned almost completely white. He knew he shouldn’t let her in, but he couldn’t stop himself. She was too intriguing for him. If he could just ignore the fact that she’d be gone in a few years, everything would be alright.

“Sparrow,” Reaver finally spoke up. “I will never let you go because you are mine. And I don’t like losing what’s mine,” he declared. It was the closest thing Sparrow would ever get to some sort of declaration of love from him, but for some reason, she liked this much better.

She smiled. “Then don’t let me go. Keep me here in this world for just a little while longer.” For once ever since defeating Lucien, she felt at peace, happy. She moved to kiss him and he met her halfway. The loss of Rose would forever haunt her, but she now knew she wasn’t alone anymore. She would stay as long as Reaver kept her here. However, she knew to keep her heart guarded. There was no telling whether or not Reaver would stay true to his word or cast her aside.

But she let herself believe that maybe he would keep her for as long as she lived. When they shared the bed this time, Sparrow let herself cuddle close to Reaver. It was going to be a rocky road from here on out, but she didn’t care. It gave her a new purpose.

[hxllblazer-a2]

“Glad t’ hear it’s breaking the mold on the usual curses. Here I was afraid we’d be dealing with the manifestation of a stab happy pixie.” Sure, he joked about it, but when it came to Albion? That could still be a pretty real possibility to show up in the next five minutes. “That’s where the sheath comes in, my good and maybe a bit misguided swordsman.”  

What was the best example he could use for this? John frowned a bit, tapping his chin—eventually snapping his fingers. “Like noise cancelling headphones, see? Y’ put a battery in those puppies, have fun drowning out the rest o’ the world. Lot of covers for cursed shit works in similar manners: pack a power source on top that’ll be enough to either dampen or outright cancel the other.” Though he was going to have to workshop how to do that one... 

“Let’s follow that line first. Work out a prototype sort—actually? Alexandriel still owes me a favor for gifting New York t’ the fae. Unwise, yeah I know, but don’t know anything else that’d deal in dampening the soul without chewing it like a toy.” 

Dane knew there was a solution here. Something. If he kept poking Constantine enough, the man would find it. Something to help him control the curse. The Ebon Siege had shown him the man for a reason, it wasn't just so he could have confusing thoughts about him being attractive.

"Maybe, but the curse is spiritual. Not just physically in the blade. It... infects. Gets into the mind." He ran his hand along the hilt, "in darkness... it's power blooms."

[gabriellawrites]

Hello everyone!

So, this is my writing sideblog! I’m Gabriella_Marie on AO3 and GabriellaGadfly on FF.net (though I’d recommend that you check out my AO3 instead - there’s stuff on there that I can’t post on FF.net because they don’t have the fandoms up, I always post on AO3 first, and there’s formatting I’m able to do there that FF.net doesn’t allow.)

Anyways, feel free to send me asks or message me, or ask me questions about anything! I’m always down for that!

Writing Progress: In-Progress Fics: (last updated 2/1/21)

Chirality (Invader Zim) (inspired by the sick human Zim AU of @mlhmoo ) (In which Zim actually is just a sick kid but Dib is still utterly convinced he’s an alien invader): Chapter 7 Progress: 691 words/ >1000 (also some of that is out of order so I also need to connect those scenes together)

か (BNHA) (In which Bakugou’s quirk is that he wakes up in a different body every single day, with no control over who he ends up in): Chapter 2 progress: 1809 words. While this is more than my self-imposes limit of at least 1000 words per chapter, I wanted this chapter to cover an entire day, from the time they woke up to the time they went to bed, in order to do a sort of, in media res introduction to essentially what their life’s like now, and there’s still some parts I need to write more in to get them to connect fully and some parts I’m thinking of deleting/reworking

Writing Progress: Unpublished Fics: (Last updated 2/1/21)

Ishvalan AU (FMA) (Unpublished): 13525 words in story doc, 2822 words in notes doc, 1187 words in conlang doc

Tetsutetsu Dimension Travel AU (BNHA) (Unpublished): 662 words of story, 92 words of notes

Hamilton POV from the ‘verse of Timeline 2 of it feels more like a memory (also inspired by IFMLAM musical, round 2) (Unpublished) (Hamilton) (In which Burr is a seer, friends with Hamilton, and becomes the more successful one of the pair): 724 words in doc

Quirkless Aoyama (BNHA) (Unpublished): 74 words

FMA Ella Enchanted AU (FMA) (Unpublished) (In which Ed’s arm and leg were taken by the original transmutation, and instead of giving up a limb to save Al, he has to give up his free will) 2123 words of story, 10 words of notes, 9332 words of meta

BNHA Prototypes AU (BNHA) (Unpublished): 1500 words

Stolen Quirk AU (inspired by parallel) (BNHA) (Unpublished) (in which Izuku has AFO, doesn’t realize, accidentally steals Katsuki’s quirk at 4, and accidentally gives it back when they’re teens): 700 words

In which Izuku has lost his name to the fae, and thus, his ability to be remembered, focusing on his attendance of UA (Inspired by tread softly as you go) (BNHA) (Unpublished): 1388 words

Vengeful Spirit Izuku AU (BNHA) (Unpublished): 1518 words

Secret Santa gift (Shaperaverse) (Unpublished): 1266 words

Prototype Dimension Travel AU (BNHA) (Unpublished): 117 words

Stuff about being basically the only human in space (Guardians of the Galaxy) (Unpublished): 1514 words

Edward/Eduard Bodysharing (FMA) (Unpublished) (In which Alt!Ed and Alfons are brothers, Alt!Ed, after months of being trapped in his own head, finally manages to make them aware that he’s still there, and our Ed has pretty much complete control of the body): 1069 words

Cursed DONA ABO AU (Dolls of New Albion) (Comissioned) (Unfinished): 650 words

In which Steven tries to adjust to and deals with grief over the loss of his hearing loss (a Connieswap omake) (Steven Universe) (Unpublished): 603 words

Hamilton Ella Enchanted AU (Hamilton) (Unpublished) (In which Burr deals with an obedience curse): 1534 words

Nathan (Every Day) (Unpublished) (dealing with Nathan’s feelings over being possessed and in which him and A have a chat): 1546 words

Zootopia Dimension Travel (inspired by Through a Glass, Darkly) (Zootopia) (Unpublished) (in which our Nick switches places with the Nick from the og collar!verse and in our Zootopia, they’re unable to get the collar off the other Nick): 1094 words

Bakugou Bewitched AU (Inspired by Bakugou Bewitched) (unfortunately, the point of divergence is spoilers for the original fic) (unpublished): 335 words

Animorphs Dimension Travel AU (Animorphs) (unpublished): 439 words

Fairy Dance Arc, focusing on Kirito dealing with PTSD from being trapped in a death game (SAO) (Unpublished): 1436 words

Zygerria Arc AU (Star Wars) (unpublished) In which Anakin objects to the original role distribution and decides he and Ashoka will swap roles): 747 words

Hamilton Dimension Travel (Hamilton) (Unpublished) (in which reality storms causing different dimensions to collide for short periods of time are known phenomenae, one happens during the war, leading to a platoon of women from a world where gender roles are reversed passing into our dimension for a few weeks, including Alt!Hamilton, who disguised himself as a woman to join the army): 430 words

War Dimension Travel (Hamilton) (Unpublished) (in which our Hamilton wakes up in the body of the Hamilton described in the previous AU): 526 words

DONA/Terra Ignota Fusion (Dolls of New Albion, Terra Ignota) (Unpublished): 1862 words

Jackie & Lloyd (New Albion Radio Hour) (Unpublished): 2082 words

(Note: list of unpublished fics is incomplete ATM, but I’m hoping to get everything down at some point in the future!)

[un-accounted-for]

Other basses he used in the MMXX tour that I didn’t cover in my original post.

[Middle] ESP BARDIC GOOD VIBES. Used in ‘Time Slip’.

[Right] LAKLAND 55-69 with bridge mutes. Pretty sure ‘Hitomi no Jyuunin’, as he used the same bass in the 25th Anniversary lives.

And now the (almost) full tour line up:

From left to right:

David Thomas McNaught V5

Probably backup/alternative to the ESP Eiffel Tower guitar.

GMW Randy Rhoads Polka Dot V

Same as above.

ZON Legacy Elite 519 custom pink maple top

Card at the museum says it was used in: ‘Pretty Girl’, ‘Vivid Colors’, ‘LOVE FLIES’ and ‘ALL YEAR AROUND FALLING IN LOVE’.

ZON Legacy Elite 519 walnut top

Card didn’t single out any song, so I suppose it was the backup/alternative to the pink ZON. Couldn't find anything in Twitter although it’s shown being used in the official YouTube videos.

ESP ALBION

Per Twitter: ‘Seventh Heaven’, ‘Driver’s High’, ‘STAY AWAY’ and ‘READY STEADY GO’.

ESP Prototype

It should be obvious by now that it was used in ‘X X X’, but card confirms it :P

ESP BASS V

‘DRINK IT DOWN‘ and ‘Shout at the Devil’.

ESP GLAMBELLY v2

Card didn’t single out any song. Couldn’t find anything in Twitter.

ESP GLAMBELLY v2 GOOD VIBES

Card doesn’t say either. Twitter user says ‘Honey’, ‘Round and Round’ and ‘Lies and Truth’

ESP BARDIC GOOD VIBES

‘Time Slip’.

LAKLAND 55-69 w/bridge mutes

As I said above, pretty sure ‘Hitomi no Jyuunin’.

Not pictured here but were used in the tour:

ESP NAVY. He used it in ‘Garasu Dama’, ‘Kaze ni Kienaide’ and ‘I’m So Happy’.

ESP flying V with the Eiffel tower design. ‘Revelation’.

[rosheendubh]

Three swords there were, forged from elemental divinity--

Mimung, the weapon of the Waelsungs, split Brynhilde's heart and sped her to the embrace of her One Eyed God, wielded after, by Vortimer, Vortigern's son, of Sinfjotli's line, now Uter's (Ohthere's) blade, grim Ohthere, of two fathers sired upon unwilling Ygerna, Vortimer (Embreis Wledig), or perhaps of Egil-Ongentheow's seed, he vies with Onela (Aelle Bretwalda) for the soul of a nation, and a woman's heart...

Tyrfing, the doom of Arngrim's brood, that brave Hervor dared the barrows of her dead father's host, scorning sulfur and brimstone to retrieve metal cast to the Host of the Dead, shaming the fallen, seeking vengeance for slain brothers, sword recovered to living light, forever cursed to take life at price of unsheathing, whose hilt Onela's (Aelle Bretwalda's) strong hands now grip upon the Plains of Eboracum (York)...

The Sword of Ares, Sarmatian iron, born of stars, a virgin priestess's flesh mated in sacrament to the Stallion, King of Heaven, both sacrificed upon the alter of flame and blood, hammer and anvil, brought to the shores of Albion in the days of Empire's might, but as centuries passed, the Eagle decayed, raising Wolf and Raven and Mare, Venaura (Gwenhwyfar), gazes upon mighty Tyr's gift of blood-gold justice, bride of death, Raven Queen and Horse Goddess, daughter of blessed Saranyu who settled her nation upon the Isle of Mists centuries gone, and centuries gone, where this child of Peteova, Lady of the Cawnur, and her Beltane lover, Palomydez (Pabo Pillar of Prydain), Alani war-lord, once commanded fire from heaven, ripping through her mother's flesh, melting sinew with lightening-struck oak, petrified water-fused stone, blade clutched in her mother's hand, symbol of defiance against Egil-Ongentheow's invading host, salvaging a tormented island, where now his sons war, Onela (Aelle Bretwalda) and Uter (Ohthere), for supremacy over Albion's clashing tribes, and in one desperate hour, does Uter send harrowing word for aid of the North, and Venaura at long-last, asks grieving Palomydez, her true-father unknown, enjoin the war and sway the battle-tide, but bitter Palomydez, stubborn yet, refuses in contempt of the southern lords he blames for Petoeva's death, sword cleaved to oak-fired stone, petrified flesh, cold memory of his bright queen's sacrifice, until this moment when her daughter, whose spirit blazes like a thousand suns from gray eyes, stands proud before his hall, voice strong above the storm lashing through the vaulted chamber, she summons Aesir and Don, bearing in her clenched fingers the ghost-banner of Old Brigantia, insignia of Iazyge, Roman, and Briton, calling the God's fire once more from heaven in a blast that blinds his court, and bades men take shelter beneath table or bench, freeing star-iron from stone, so that Venaura, Peteova's proud daughter, frees the Sword of Ares born aloft once more, into the world of men--

"In the name of the Women of Albion, and Valentia between the Walls, I summon your One-Eyed god out of Shadow, and your queen, Palomydez, summons your horse-lords to war..."

~~

Graphic, a result of me goofing around with PhotoLayers App, and ToonyTools online editing.

Verbosity, me droning in stream of conscience with highlights of how I see Uther's tale (and later, Arthur's) evolving with Gwenhwyfar's. Here, she’s based off a combo of Gwen, the daughter of Cunedda Wledig, and Gwenabwy (in my poor reverse linguistics, that’s actually Uindavia/Uendabhia), who’s the daughter of *Cawnur*, the sister of Gildas, Cywyllog, and Huail (from the delusional pedigrees of the Lives of the British Saints). Indeed, here Uther is actually adapted from the character of Ohthere (and in some bit, Amlwedd/Amlothi/Hamlet), who exists in some convoluted way, referenced as Vendel nobility, Ylfingas and Ynglingas (basically, Odin-Tyr progeny and Freyr progeny; Hamlet, and it’s predecessor Danish tale of Amothi/Ambhla-Odr, is basically another version, where Orwandil and Feng are representations of Odin/Tyr and Ingvi-Freyr. Somehow, Orwandil is also Egil-Ongentheow, which is also Angantyr. He shows up in various Anglo-Saxon genealogies as Angentheow/Angengeot). Amlothi marries both a northern British princess, and then a Scottish queen who was infamous for killing all her male suitors until she falls in love with Amlothi. Later, in Amlothi’s lay, the Scottish queen marries Wigleck, the adversary and new Danish king, and founds the line of East Anglians via Offa Anglian.  Anyone whose ever read Widsith, and Beowulf, and any of the Swedish/Danish/Norwegian/Geat dynastic sagas knows how very convoluted are the pseudo-histories and personages. At the end of the day, I love the take of Aelle Bretwalda, something of a misplaced Teutonic invader, without any lineage, and 3 sons whose names supply locations in Sussex (Cymen, Cissa, Wlencing—my Lancelot/Gwallawg ap Lleenog, of the next generation with Arthur...who’s Vortiporius in my take), as Ale (Norse version of Onela’s name), as the 1/2 brother of Uther. My whole justification here is that Uther’s name shares a parallel meaning as Ohthere—terrible/fearsome warrior. Archaeology over the last few decades suggests something of a Swedish/possibly Geatish influx into East Anglia, from an earlier era (tentatively) based on the dating of certain artifacts, than traditionally believed. And possibly, the migration west of Mercian lines as East Anglian/Geatish pressure increased, reflecting a parallel migration of dynastic rivalries which followed them across the NorthSea board. The Sutton Hoo burial, and grave sites of mid-late 6th century/7th century East Anglia/The Norfolk-Suffolk areas allegedly have more features in common with the Swedish Vendel graves in southern Sweden than Anglian/continental Germanic burial sites of the same era. SOMETHING happened in Sweden/Denmark as well as Jutland that I believe involved late-Roman/Post-Roman Britain as well. Which leads me to wonder if the situation of the entire northern Seaboard all the way to the Baltic coast, isn’t a whole lot more complex than what our established theories reflect. Also, per poetic license, this circumstantial evidence allows me a bridge into fictional invite, proposing it’s Uther/Ohthere who becomes something of a prototype King Cnut/Canute, in my vision of his ambition, not of a Post-Roman Britain joined back with a dying Western Roman Empire which Constantinople refuses to concede, but a Britain united with the Nordic houses of Sweden/Daneland/Jutland, and reaching out to Theoderic the Great/Sexy Amalung to form some sort of Successor State confederacy, acting as a bulwark against Constantinople’s grasping influence, as well as the rising Frankish power of Clovis and the Merovingians. There’s reports Theoderic’s court of Ravenna hosted a Swedish king who’d sworn off his countrymen (Radulph—some scholars think he  may actually be the personage upon whom Hrolfr Kraki was based), as well as Theoderic harboring, like his 18th century presidential doppelgänger, Thomas Jefferson (who was forever fascinated by the Western mystique of the American frontier and her indigenous peoples), something of an enlightened interest in collecting whatever history or knowledge related to northern tribal peoples, like the (mistaken, but heavily advertised) notion of Geats and Goths sharing a common root heritage. 

This, This warped version finds inspiration from not just from the classic Brithish manuscripts or epics of Arthur, but combines Nordic legend/saga sources with late Roman figures synthesized with British/Germanic/Nordic figures. Story of Ongentheow and his sons, for starters. I have 2 notebook pages full up in finest logic tree form, like a jungle of neurons, detailing my convoluted interpretations and parallels of historic personages, and legendary/literary. 

Lastly, Something about Vortigern's geneology always bothered me, especially in his kinship with The Jutes, Hengist and Horsa. A piece submerged or missing, that made me wonder if he wasn't only British, but as with so many high-ranking military officers in the early 5/mid-th century, perhaps also shared some Germanic/Teutonic lineage, which would explain his partiality to the Jutes, and their willingness to serve him in Britain at his invite.  It’s recorded (in not very reliable sources), Vortigern’s father is a Vitalinus or Vitalis. A solidly Latin name, which shares a wonderful synchrony with Fitelis, the modified version of Sinfjotli, the son of Sigmund and Signy Waelsung, which relates back to the whole Brynhilde/Sigfrid/death of the Burgundians/ doom of Attila thread.  I’m actually just partial to Wotan and his symbolism with changing eras of history—war/rebellion/evolution/revolution/enlightenment. I also seem inclined to a symbolism of male characters as something like representations of that iconography, while my female characters act as mediums of inspiration for social/political reform, and logic/temperance/challenging the notion change only comes through violent upheaval. In lieu here, is a young Gwen, educated in Rome, as physician (of course...she does tie to Caroline Eleanor Graham later in preRev Paris), as ruler-philosopher, and yes, as a warrior in the style of nomadic horsewomen (how I bring in the character, Alardin as her tutor in these studies through her formative years exiled from Alba/Caledonia after her mother’s death).  I hate the warrior queen motif. Not that my perspective alleviates gross anachronism, but I’d rather suggest she’s a queen, or at least, per the tradition of Caledonian tribes around the Walls, it’s through marriage she conveys the right of rulership to the man she eventually selects as her husband. Until then, she rules/advises her father and older brother when her father invites her back from Rome finally. And later, when Uther’s wars require the companies of the Votadini (her tribe), she’s left ruling in her father/brother’s stead, until Uther asks for her intervention, to summon the Pictish tribes of the far north, and Pabo Post Prydein’s Alani heavy cavalry, who occupy the area of Rheged, I place in NW Cumbria and SW Scotland/Galloway-Dumfries. Rerigonium looks an awful lot like an inspiration for Rheged, IMHO. Also, oddly, according to the Lives of the British saints, Pabo shares some sort of weird root with Palomides (?.). So, I’d rather suggest, Gwen is a woman who becomes a queen, from a family of Romanized-buffer state Caledonians, and as any woman in a position of influence, raised in a volatile era, and volatile province, essentially defined as *frontier zone*, I’d rather think she was raised to be competent, and strong-willed, and perhaps, more talented/unconventional/resourceful than what might be expected in a more pacific time. As I would expect of other women, and their men as well—British/Roman/or Germanic-Nordic...

Anyway, as the whole tragedy of Waelsungs, the Burgundians, and later Britain ties back, according to the Eddic poems, and Wagner, to that tale of Andarvi’s gold, Otter, and a neck-ring from that cursed were-gild which comes into Gudrun’s hands, I have Gudrun as a grieving Abbess residing in Rome, the patron to whom Gwen is sent to be educated as a girl. They don’t have a good relationship at first—Gwen, a rebellious girl who hardly knew her mother, and resents her father for sending to a college of widowed and bitter women, and Gudrun, who mourns her daughter, Swanhilde, slaughtered in an act of betrayal, and now, lives lay to see her son, ERP/Hyrp, take the throne of Caesar. Don’t ask how, but legends say, Gudrun does have a son named ERP/Hyrp. Somehow, Erp/Hyrp relates to Eadowacer, and that name is a version of the eponymous Odovaver/Adavacrius who deposed the last emperor in 476. He ties in with the story of Gwen, and Theoderic the Great as well. Anyhow, that cursed treasure with it’s cursed neck-ring sits in a convent in a quite, genteely decaying corner of the old Capital. No one wants to touch it b/c it’s cursed, and by this point of Gwen’s maturing to a young, precocious woman, she knows the legacy and taint it has upon the Abbess Gudrun she’s come to love as her mother. So, she decides to enlist the best street gangs of the convent’s local neighborhood, various carpenters/construction crews/artisans/as well as river merchants who want a cut of profit, and retain their own armed guards, to basically revive the convent’s local marketplace, founding their local agricultural coop/and vendor sites, as well as establishing a neighborhood hospital (based of St Galla’s, I think), and to add one more twist to Wotan’s cursed treasure, she takes the neck ring, and has it melted/redrafted into surgical implements which, to her delight, NEVER rust. And have amazing antibacterial properties...as some metal alloys are known to possess. Anyway, that’s the same woman who, rather than Uther or Arthur (her son, by Uther and Theoderic), who pulls the Sword from the Stone, the Sword which took her mother’s life, if that made any sense, up above, to mend a dynastic feud of Northern British houses, which has embroiled her biological father (Pabo) and her acknowledged father, Cunedda, since Gwen’s mother sacrificed her life to fend off an invasion of Swedes when Gwen was a child. It’s the moment Gwen realizes she has the aptitude and the attitude to sovereignty in interests of her people, and claims rule of Valentia, that troublesome province of Count Theodosius dating back to 370AD, which has confounded modern scholars as to where Valentia was located. I place it between the Wall of Antoninus and Hadrian, to include the regions north and south of each those boundaries as well. Thus, she is, rather like Amlothi’s Scottish queen (no Scotland in late 5th/early 6th c...), The Queen of the North (ah, GRRMartin and HBO, I’ll never forgive you for Season8), and rallies the discordant tribes of the Pretani/Picts, and the Caledonians (those Lowland and Scottish Border regions)  to Uther’s aid, outside of Eboracum. Which is my draw from GeoffreyofMonmouth, and the HistoriaBrittonum, of Battle 8/The Battle Guinnion/TheWhiteFortress (don’t ask, but root words of Eboracum aside, either as  *yew tree*, in the British, the Latin root of *eburos* is ivory. And if you’ve been to York, they have those lovely white-trunked trees everywhere, and its Walls, albeit dating from the MiddleAges, must have been at least as magnificent, indestructible, and...white, even by the later quarter of the 400s AD. One of my favorite cities, and hope to back when the world’s not so crazy...). How the dynasty of Eleutherius and York/Eboracum becomes occupied by Teutonic forces, you ask? Ties with Germanic/Teutonic royalty, of course, but resolving that takes up way too much precious Tumblr space already.  Rambles done, other than to add, the description of Cath Goddeu/The Battle of the Trees, from Welsh poetic sources, makes for wonderful mythic depiction of the Men of the North, and their Queen, advancing with a rising storm we all know is the Wild Hunt. And in the case of Gwen bearing the Sword of the Sarmatians/Iayzyges that had once belonged to the company of the long dead Artorius Castus, and his Brigantian Queen, who herself, once united a warring island in its desperate hour, Venaura’s actions have roused the old Guardians of Albion, the ghosts of Sarmati and their horse-lords, riding with their Alani scions of Rheged, in the name of the Women of Albion. My nod to William Blake, as Nemiane (my late 2nd c Romano-Brigantian military surgeon/Artorius’s lover), Gwen, and Caroline—the Scottish lady physician who becomes Jefferson’s lover in 18th c Paris, all find some reflection in the themes of Blake’s monumental mythicism. Thus, I believe we start this work with Blake, writing Vision of the Women of Albion...

[tacticalcheesestraws-blog]

Albion. (Prototype)

[projectdownfall]

Prequel

Aug 23, 2020 | Camelot

“The Anti-Kaiju Wall is nearly complete, with just Northumbria remaining we’re looking at a 10-15% until completion. However, with Northumbria conditions the Wall could take anywhere up to six months to a year. Although, news has reached us that The Wall of Life Program will be funded by Albion United! Many politicians and citizens have been vying for Albion United to support the Wall, but they have been backing the Jaeger Program for years. It seems funding has been an on-going issue between Albion United and the Albion Defense Corporations, particularly with their Jaeger Program, which is estimated to cost between a few billions to a hundred billion! Arguably that funding could’ve been spent more responsibly, especially on rations which citizens have been struggling with ever since the start of the Kaiju War. Albion United—”

The room is enveloped in silence after the television is turned off. Although the silence has more to do with the tension between the two people in the room than anything else really. Bishop and Uther never did get along.

“Rumors travel fast. I’m afraid the news is swift on the uptake, it’s unfortunate that I couldn’t officially announce it to you before the vultures swooped in.” Bishop explains, but Uther knows better than to believe anything from an Albion United representative, especially Bishop. The balding gray old man probably had it all planned out so he couldn’t refute, refuse, or reject them.

“You’re really funding that Wall?” Uther can’t help but laugh. A wall isn’t going to stop a massive intellectual intraterrestrial being. Who is stupid enough to believe that a mere wall will stop Kaiju’s? The Jaeger Program has actual results to prove that it’s effective over some man-made wall that would most likely collapse on itself from the Kaiju’s earthquake before the actual Kaiju breached it.

“The Albion Defense Corp’s Jaeger Program is too costly, Uther. The program may be more practical than all other options, but the reality is that we cannot keep funding something that’s going nowhere.” Bishop gestures dismissively with his hands as if mankind’s existence wasn’t a matter at stake here.

“Nowhere? We kill the damn things! That’s more than a wall will ever do!” Uther argues, rage boiling. How dare some congressman who no doubt cowers in their seats dare to look upon the ADC as some pet project to toss aside.

“Be that as it may, but your turnover rate with Jaegers and, let me remind you, humans who pilot them, is outrageous. The Kaiju’s are not stopping and we cannot continue to fund your program any longer. We have begun looking into other means.” Bishop shuts down anything else that Uther is about to say with a raise of his hand. Uther fumes when he obeys the command.

“I, Bishop Gray, relieve you, Uther Pendragon, and the Albion Defense Corporations from Albion United. You have been decommissioned, Uther. We will allow you to have the remaining eight months funding in accordance to the contract, but after that Albion United will not back you any longer. The other seven have no doubt received the same news from their respective representative. We are charging you with leading the last excursion.” Bishop sees Uther ready to protest, but he silences him with his hand again.

“You started this, Uther. Now you have to finish it. I understand there are events and… deaths that prompted you to step down from the position, but you must understand we could not choose anyone else worthier.” Bishop could see all the fight drain from Uther and he pities the man before him. The Kaiju War has taken so much from Uther.

“I understand.” Uther stands and salutes, ready to be dismissed.

Bishop stands as well, nodding to Uther in assent to be at ease. “Everyone is expected to be shipped to Camelot Shatterdome for the last remainder of the contract. It has been an honor, Uther.”

Uther is surprised by the sudden hug from Bishop, he returns it stiffly after recollecting himself, “Indeed.”

When Uther walks out of Camelot’s State House, he does so with his back straight, shoulders apart, and head held proud. He’ll be damned if the press catches pictures of his inner turmoil.

Aug 24, 2020 | Camelot Shatterdome LOCCENT

The thing about being Secretary-General was that everyone listened to him, although Uther had that still after he stepped down to be Marshal, but then he had to listen to everyone else as well, especially when it came to them bitching. Uther is going to abhor these last eight months.

“Yeah, let’s sit back for the remainder of the eight months and then watch them crawl back begging for our help!” Bayard of Mercia has always been intolerant and rash, and Uther can already tell nothing has changed in him since he stepped down. Bayard was always a pain to deal with his narrow-mindedness.

“That’s when we tell them to fuck off.” Lot of Essetir chimes in. Him and Bayard stoke each other’s fire far too well. Having two stupidly obstinate Marshal’s is going to be a nightmare.

“This is not a game, you stupid pigs.” Annis of Caerleon reprimands. Just like Uther, Annis lost her significant other to the Kaiju War. Uther is glad there is a woman who will be the voice of reason and doesn’t take shit from any man. Sometimes men can’t see past their own bigheaded ego without a woman to put him in his place, and Uther has no doubt that Annis has no fear in striking any man before her from all the years that he has known her, Marshal or not.

“Agreed. We still have to abide by our part of the contract. There will be no sitting around.” Nemeth of Rodor is still as Uther remembers: pragmatic and calm.

“We do not have a shatterdome of our own, so expect us at early light tomorrow.” Olaf of Limerick interjects, completely changing the subject. Olaf has always been a man of few words and if Uther was honest, a bit socially stunted.

“We will also be there tomorrow, Uther.” Godwyn of Gawant has always addressed Uther by name. The two have been close friends before everything and after it all. He is a confidant Uther knows he can depend on and is rather glad that his old friend did not step down and join Uther in Camelot when Stellar Striker fell.

The holographic feed of all eight Marshal’s, although Northumbria appears to be disconnected and Uther can assume the buzz about the Wall and Northumbria are taking up Benedict’s time, look to Uther when he clears his throat.

“I’ll make sure Northumbria receives their part in this meeting, but I thank you all for making time on such a short notice. We have already begun preparations for your arrival so I expect each and everyone of you by the end of this week, and no later.” Uther makes sure to make eye contact with Bayard who has a habit of doing just that to anger him out of spite.

“I’ve gone through reports and records concerning our combined Jaegers and pilots.” Uther grimaces at this part. It did not look promising. Albion Defense Corporations had a total of 10 active Jaegers, not including any prototypes or ____. The disconcerting news was that about half of them were pilotable. Jaeger pilots were a rarity nowadays.

“It does not look promising indeed.” Annis comments, frown marring her features as she reads the collective data Uther displays to them through the communicator.

“I believe are chances may be better cross-piloting. Many of us have pilots without co-pilots. This will be an opportunity for them to find a match. Since all efforts are directed towards that Wall, we cannot hope for any new pilots. We will have to assume that we will be fighting with what we have.” Uther hopes that they will be able to fill all the available Jaegers with compatible pilots, but at the back of his mind Uther is also hoping one of them is not filled. He won’t be able to live with himself if he sends that back out.

Murmurs erupt at Uther’s suggestion.

“You expect me to just hand our Brutus Vindicator over?!” Lot screeches. “Over my dead body!”

“I’m afraid you ask of too much. Assassin Viper has always been Caerleon’s since its development.” Annis frowns at the idea.

“This could be promising, you lot! Many of us have solo-pilots unable to command a Jaeger because they cannot find a suitable co-pilot!” Rodor argues over Lot’s angry babbling.

“And when we pair someone without a Jaeger? Kick that Jaeger’s pilot out and give the new pair it?” Bayard really doesn’t need to say anything since he doesn’t even have any existing Jaegers or active pilots, but always the one burn the fire brighter.

At that idea everyone erupts into arguments and denials. If the hologram could stutter it would now from how much everyone is trying to raise their voice to be heard over everyone else. Uther would let them run out of steam before, but not anymore. Not with what’s a stake here.

“SILENCE!”

It does not take long for everyone to quiet and turn attentive to Uther.

“I am not kicking anyone out of their Jaegers!” Uther can see Bayard open his mouth, ready to refute but Uther shuts him up with a thunderous look. “You don’t even have any Jaegers or pilots to contribute so shut it! With the way you run things I am not surprised this is all you can bring to the table. You will be closely monitored when in my shatterdome, Bayard!”

“Next! All active Jaegers with compatible pilots will remain with their respective team. Assassin Viper, Brutus Vindicator, and Colossus Alpha are our best. We cannot afford to lose them.” ADC’s core ABC team has always been reliable and efficient in their missions and Uther cannot fathom changing anything about them in case there’s any risk of losing them. Uther knows Camelot’s own Colossus Alpha prefers their regular regiment team and techs; it could be likely the others feel the same.

“Lastly. I understand that some of you may not be inclined to share your Jaegers, but if it’s just rusting away without being on the battlefield it’s a wasted piece of metal that deserves justice even if it’s going out there to die.”

“That’s a bit harsh.” Olaf mutters. Uther ignores him, along with all the dark thoughts and unsaid accusations that come with it. Uther knows he goes through humans like he goes through Albion United’s funds—depleted in a blink of an eye.

“I’ve already received a message from the Inland about supporting us for these last remaining months. I have high hopes that we can fill most, if not all, the Jaegers available.” Uther understands many of the Marshals are skeptical about Inland help, since they have always kept to themselves. Inland did not deem it their business to meddle in something that was not of their concern, and it certainly wasn’t being landlocked and all. The Inlanders simply left the Coasts to fend for themselves, what Coastlander wouldn’t feel bitter?

“Inlanders?!” Bayard protests. Uther ignores him.

“What are we? Desperate?” Lot scoffs.

“They don’t have the slightest clue about the technology or program.” Rodor retorts.

“I don’t understand their role in this, Uther.” Godwynn comments.

Clearing his throat, Uther begins to explain, but then decides to jump right to the point. “Kilgharrah has reasoned with me that these Inlanders are promising.” There is no one in Albion Defense Corporation that doesn’t know Kilgharrah. The former Kwoon Fightmaster fostered some of the most brilliant Jaeger Pilots before his retirement. He has even offered to come to Camelot Shatterdome to retrain any cadets or graduates. Uther could not turn down such an offer especially when the Kwoon Fightmaster promised the training to only be four week long instead of twenty-four.

“If Kilgharrah says so then I have no reason to suspect anything.” Annis finalizes, saluting before disconnecting.

Slowly, one by one, everyone seems to come to a consensus at the mention of Kilgharrah and follow Annis’ actions. Soon, Uther is left by himself in the darkness of the command room. There should be a million thoughts after that meeting, but all Uther can surmise is that if he just mentioned Kilgharrah in the first place this would’ve gone a lot smoother.

Aug 28, 2020 | Camelot Shatterdome Bridge

“I can tell this is just going to go wonderfully.” Morgana jokes as she surveys Camelot’s Shatterdome bay area.

Below her, Morgana can see Camelot personnel rushing back and forth to clear up room for Nemeth’s Jaegers and its personnel team. Granted Camelot Shatterdome is the largest out of the five, but cramming all eight of them into one dome wasn’t going to be easy. Certainly they have enough space for everyone, but whether anyone would live by the end of it is another question. Morgana almost bit off Bayard’s hand when it wandered to close to her bosom earlier, and that was only hour two of day 1.

“I know. I almost punched Valiant back to Mercia when he greeted me. I thought I’d never have to see that asshole after graduation. Fuck, I was wrong.” Arthur adds, surprising Morgana as he joins her atop the bridge.

“Is that where you’ve been? Greeting all the Jaeger pilots?” Morgana smirks, knowing full well she’s goading him.

“Don’t even start, Morgana. I’ve had to deal with nothing but pompous and arrogant pilots all day.” Arthur turns around to lean against the rail instead, arms crossed and body language closed off.

Morgana pouts. Arthur’s being no fun. “You mean like you? I can’t see why you don’t get along with them?”

“I am not!” Arthur argues, disbelief crossing his face.

Morgana merely cackles before sauntering away with a wave. “Unlike some of us, I have work to do. Bye!”

Arthur doesn’t answer her, grumbling instead about what an evil woman she is and how Camelot Shatterdome is going to be a nightmare for eight months.

When Arthur first heard the news, he confronted his father about the matter: about how ridiculous it was that they were being decommissioned, that all eight representative countries of ADC weren’t going to fit or let alone get along in one Shatterdome, that if Valiant came anywhere near Camelot personnel he was going to beat the man into a blithering mess on the floor, that if he so much as pawned Excalibur off to anyone he’d detonate the Camelot Shatterdome bay area and blow up every last Jaeger, damn it all.

Uther listened to him rant (did he though?) it all off his chest before swiveling his chair around to face Arthur. “Arthur. I expect you to be courteous and professional about this. I want you on your best behavior while our… guests are here.” Uther explains to his son in a very calm and slow voice, as if he’s talking to a child. That’s what annoys Arthur the most, that Uther still speaks to him as if he’s a kid in his nappers.

“Of course, sir.” Arthur affirms, saluting. When he trudges out Arthur feels utterly resigned to his fate: forever an officer, never to return to a Jaeger. In this case, forever will be eight months and then Arthur will have to return to being a normal citizen, and Stellar stars forbid, a wall builder. Arthur shudders at the mere thought of helping build that damn wall.

“Over my dead body.”

That is, if Arthur doesn’t die from the embarrassment already. Arthur can see the pitiful looks thrown his way from senior pilots, hear the mocking calls from pilots like Valiant who take glee in other’s suffering, smell the familiar engine tang from the likes of Mithian or any J-tech personnel who live and breathe Jaegers, and worst of all feel it in himself the failure that he’s become.

Being a J-tech officer just isn’t the same as piloting a Jaeger. Arthur wants to suit up, look his co-pilot in the eye and know they have each other’s life and trust, mind meld with them and synchronize to the point that he knows their quirks, secrets, and sexual fantasies, only to reach a greater high when the two of them take down a Jaeger and return home. Arthur misses the adrenaline high from drifting, and no amount of sexual endeavors or drugs has taken him that far, and it makes Arthur itch.

Although the reality of it is that he’s still scared. He has nightmares about crippling his next co-pilot and Arthur doesn’t think he can live with that again. He already can’t look his ex co-pilot in the eye because of it, eaten raw from the inside by his guilt. However, he’s addicted and no emotions can stop an addiction once it has already flowed through veins.

Aug 28, 2020 | Caerleon in Camelot Shatterdome

According to Uther, Limerick and Gawant have already settled in. It shouldn’t come to a surprise since they were the only two countries without a Shatterdome. Gawant prototypes any technology or equipment before Limerick manufactures them. Godwyn and Olaf may not have Jaegers of their own to be proud of, but they certainly play an important part in creating them. Although they are landlocked regions, they have always been a close ally to the rest of the Coastal regions.

Unfortunately, by the looks of it the rest of the company arrived the same day as Caerleon. Annis and her company were unable to make the trip any sooner because of delays on their Jaeger, Assassin Viper. A Mark-2 Jaeger powered by a nuclear-core reactor and armored with stainless steel and titanium reinforcements around the joints to prevent joint collapse. Isolde likes to keep the Jaeger sleek and polished so she tends to the machinery herself, but Annis always makes sure the viper stingers are fueled and equipped. Although Tristan and Isolde would rather beat the kaiju’s to death with Assassin Viper’s fists, their success rate mainly comes from utilizing the viper stings.

“Isolde. Tristan. I’ll leave you two to dock your Jaeger. Meet me in my quarters after you’ve settled in.” Annis addresses her two pilots who have been following her since their arrival.

Tristan and Isolde salute Annis before making their way towards their Jaeger, which seems to be situated right next to Lot’s Jaeger, Brutus Vindicator, one of two remaining Mark-1’s in existence. Annis has only glimpsed photos of the Jaeger, but it truly looks its age. Brutus Vindicator is in need of some proper care to manage the noticeable rust curling around the joints of the Jaeger. Rusted joints on a Jaeger were early signs of retirement for the machinery.

Annis frowns when she sees Cenred snipe at a Camelot personnel for mishandling equipment to Brutus Vindicator. Lot may let his pilots run amok, but Annis has zero tolerance for such behaviors. “Cenred of Essetir.” Annis greets, appearing to be amicable under the guise of shutting down the Jaeger pilot, “Must I remind you that you are now on Camelot grounds. Such behavior is untoward and unprofessional.”

The Camelot personnel scurries away as soon as Cenred lets him go, his attention garnered by Annis. “And you would know of etiquette, wouldn’t you, Marshal Annis?”

Annis can sense the mock in her title, but pays no mind to it. Most Jaeger pilots are egotistic with no discipline whatsoever. Annis is rather eager for Kilgharrah to put all the 2011 and subsequent graduates in their place. “I do. You are not under only one Marshal now, pilot. If I see anymore contemptuous behavior from you, you won’t be answering to just me, but every one of is Marshal’s, am I clear?”

“Crystal.” Cenred smirks, turning his back without a proper salute.

Annis watches him go with a stern look, annoyed by the pilot’s impropriety.

“Annis of Caerleon.”

Annis turns around to appraise the individual addressing her. Morgana Le Fay is indeed a marvel. She commands just like Uther from the set of her shoulders to the piercing green eyes and the aura around her. Annis has heard rumors about her as a LOCCENT Mission Controller and she has no doubt that Morgana is beyond proficient in her job and any other expertise.

“Morgana Le Fay. Thank you for escorting us.” Annis returns the greeting with a handshake.

“It’s an honor and a pleasure. Anyone else and I would’ve ripped their heads off their necks.” Morgana casually comments as she leads Annis to her quarters.

Annis cannot help but laugh at that. She shares the exact same sentiment. “I would’ve followed right after you.”

Morgana smirks over her shoulder and Annis visibly relaxes at the look that conveys, ‘You have an ally right here. We must stick together. Men can be dicks.’

After this all, Annis deserves a long retirement whether the kaiju’s are dead or not.

Aug 28, 2020 | Nemeth in Camelot Shatterdome

“Who is the head Jumphawk pilot here?!” Mithian exclaims in frustration outside the Camelot Shatterdome bay area. The Camelot personnel simply look down when they meet her fury, but do not say anything.

“I’ve just arrived and we were promised docking areas for our three Jaegers! But why can no one direct me there?!” Mithian usually doesn’t loose her temper this easily, but she’s been traveling all day and everyone of her crew is exhausted. She just wants to direct her Strike Group to the correct bay area so that they can place the Jaegers in their respective bays and retire for the day.

“I’m Officer Leon Knightley. I apologize for the delay, but please follow me.” A scruffy redhead announces, hand raised amongst the sea of Camelot personnel to show where his voice is coming from. The fact that everyone is parting for him like royalty must mean he is indeed an officer of esteem.

“Finally.” Mithian exclaims in exasperation, following Leon and signaling for her Strike Group above her to move in and follow her. “Took you all long enough.” Mithian mutters under her breath, and she hopes she was heard. Judging by Leon’s silence though it looks like she wasn’t, or he’s deliberately ignoring her.

“Your three Jaegers can be stationed in the West block. We’ve made space for them to be side by side. Our Camelot personnel are awaiting to assist you if you need any help.” Leon turns to face her when they’ve reached the end of the outer bay area. Something must show on her face though, for Leon’s features soften and he apologizes once again, “I apologize for the delay. I understand your travels from Nemeth were not easy, but we will do our best to swiftly situate your crew so that you all may rest.”

Mithian smiles softly in return, “Thank you. It has been a long day.”

Leon approaches her, and she can’t help but step back a bit from his sudden proximity, but when he grasps her hands in his she forces herself to be at ease. Although the handshake and grip confound her, Mithian is even more surprised by the words, “Look at ease, comrade.”

That was a code of conduct for Jaeger pilots, not Jumphawk pilots.

Aug 28 2020 | Gawant in Camelot Shatterdome

Having settled in days earlier, Elena is relieved she’s not a part of the mess that’s Camelot Shatterdome right now. The bay area is no doubt cluster-fucked with everyone running around and yelling. Elena has only been present for one Jaeger deployment and that was a nightmare with everyone rushing around in a sea of human bodies, so Elena can only imagine it’s similar to that experience but times two, no scratch that, times eight.

“Did you speak to your father yet?” A smooth male voice interrupts her imagination.

“No.” Elena replies irritably. Lancelot was such a busybody, but with the best of intentions and always followed the rules and his code of properness, and why was Lancelot such a perfect man without any flaw? Elena would’ve jumped him if she wasn’t a lesbian.

“And why’s that?” Lancelot continues to inquire as he settles his perfect bum on the armrest of Elena’s chair. Elena secretly side-eyes those cheeks and if she fails to move her right hand in time before they brush his ass, she’s known as a klutz for a reason.

“He’s in the bay area and you know what a terror that place is right now. In fact, I was just imagining it before you so rudely interrupted my thoughts.” Elena curls in on herself to prop her head on her dominant arm, since Lancelot is occupying her arm rest. Shame on him.

“And why would you imagine that?” Lancelot questions, voice suddenly softer and oh God, Elena hates it when his expression gentles (even more than it already is passively) and voice turns fond. Elena starts chanting, although it’s starting to turn into a prayer in her head now; she has to remind herself that she likes boobs and vaginas.

“…I don’t know… Don’t question it.” Elena snaps. Lancelot laughs quietly at her.

This is the first time they’ve properly held a conversation since leaving Gawant and Elena understands Lancelot must be feeling somewhat nostalgic being back in Camelot. She wonders if he misses it. Lancelot always seemed distracted back in Gawant, as if his heart and mind were somewhere else.

“How is it?” Elena asks before realizing what she’s asking.

Lancelot doesn’t reply for a long time, and Elena is afraid she asked the wrong question, or that he doesn’t know what she’s asking, or that he didn’t hear her, or maybe he did but he’s ignoring it, or perhaps—

“I don’t know.” And with that Lancelot rises and walks out of the Commons Room.

“So… Wrong question…” Elena mutters to herself as she slumps into the seat, head pillowed where Lancelot was previously.

Aug 28, 2020 | Limerick in Camelot Shatterdome

“Wow, Princess. You sure showed him!” Gwaine laughs as he trails after a fuming Vivian.

“That shameless prick!” Vivian shrieks as she wipes at herself with her hands, trying to cleanse herself of Valiant’s harassment.

The two of them had gone down to the bay area to get a good look of the Jaegers, but instead Valiant of Mercia physically inspected Vivian instead when she tried to get too close to Brutus Vindicator. The screech that Vivian made turned every head in Camelot Shatterdome bay and just in time for everyone to see Vivian to slap Valiant into the ground, probably unconscious if Gwaine was honest since he didn’t get up afterwards even with some prodding on Gwaine’s part.

Luckily, Olaf returned to Limerick earlier this morning to handle important matters. If Olaf saw what Valiant did, Gwaine would proudly admit that her father would disembowel Valiant to the public eye. Gwaine’s learned to not provoke Olaf, especially after his first drunken mistake when he commented about Vivian’s rack. It took awhile for Olaf to understand, so when Gwaine woke up in a cell instead of his bed, it also took him awhile to piece everything together before apologizing to Olaf.

The apology did nothing and Gwaine was in chains for a good week.

“You knocked him out good though.” Gwaine’s still laughing and Vivian whirls on him with looks that could kill.

“He deserved it!”

“I’m not saying he didn’t!” Gwaine holds up his hands in protest.

“I should’ve kicked his balls for good measure!”

“Of course!” Gwaine agrees nodding furiously.

“And why didn’t you do anything?!” Vivian shoves a finger into his chest.

Vivian has more strength in her than she looks, and if the slap didn’t convince anyone Gwaine doesn’t know what will. Having lived in Limerick for awhile and accompanied Vivian for half that time, Gwaine knows better than anyone what a feisty, fiery thing Vivian can be. But if Gwaine told her she could handle herself, she’d punch the living daylight out of him, just to prove a point.

“You reacted faster than I could!” Gwaine retorts. “He was on the floor before I could even move!”

“Damn right!” And with that Vivian twirls herself back around to continue marching down Camelot Shatterdome’s corridors.

Gwaine watches her go and shivers at the thought of ever being at the end of Vivian’s fury.

“Ah. Sorry.” A huge giant apologizes to Gwaine.

“No, no. I’m sorry. Shouldn’t be standing still in the middle of these busy corridors, yeah?” Gwaine offers to help the man gather the gadgets littering the floor. Gwaine receives a strained smile in return for his efforts though.

However, when their hands brush over a communicator the man freezes and stares at Gwaine in awe. Gwaine is slower on the uptake and the only thing he can muster is a, “We’re fucked.”

Aug 28, 2020 | Kwoon Combat Room, Camelot Shatterdome

After his retirement from the Jaeger Academy, Kilgharrah promised never to return to the Albion Defense Corporation. However, circumstances have changed and the wheels of fate are turning and Kilgharrah must play his part in it.

“Unlike the Jaeger Academy, we only have a meager Kwoon Combat Room. I hope it suits your needs, if not we can arrange for something more.” Uther gestures to the arena and Kilgharrah cannot help but snort at the size of it all. The room is indeed small and half the size of what the Jaeger Academy had, but it will do. Afterall, he won’t be teaching a class of hundreds, just a handful of graduates who need re-shaping. If Kilgharrah suspicions are correct, the graduates after his retirement are lacking severely. It almost hurts his pride to let them gallivant around.

“It will do.”

Uther nods in affirmation. “If there is anything else you may be needing, Morgana will help arrange for it.”

Kilgharrah ignores the humility, instead digging into his pockets for a cigarette. Uther frowns at the smolder and smoke, but doesn’t reprimand the Kwoon Fightmaster. Kilgharrah is known to chain smoke packs after packs, and telling the man to not smoke was asking for an early death sentence or offending the Pope.

“I hear that your son lacks a compatible drift.” Kilgharrah comments nonchalantly, digging right into the root of Uther’s dilemma.

“…You are not wrong.” Uther hesitates to answer, but thinks otherwise. What doesn’t Kilgharrah know already?

“You fear that he will return to the battlefield, just like your wife did.” Who died and never returned Uther supplies mentally.

Kilgharrah doesn’t need a reply to continue, “You will have to face your fears soon. Your son will find a co-pilot.”

Uther moves suddenly to steal Kilgharrah cigarette. In one fluid motion he finishes the fag and flings it between them. When he speaks next, smoke rises from his parted lips, “I’ll be damned if I lose my son as well.”

“That is not for you to decide, Marshal.” Kilgharrah laughs, extinguishing the remaining light from the cigarette with his shoes.

When Uther watches the light go out after Kilgharrah has crushed it, he pales at the analogy.

“Over my dead body.”

Kilgharrah’s laugh can be heard ringing in Uther’s ears as he retreats, and damn him. If he wasn’t a professional, he would’ve booted the Kwoon Fightmaster out of Camelot Shatterdome.

Aug 28, 2020 | Camelot Shatterdome

“Merlin!”

“Merlin!”

“MERLIN!”

Merlin jolts awake at the call of his name. He only meant to take a quick nap, but considering the puddle size of his drool that wasn’t the case.

“Coming!” Merlin croaks, still groggy and tired.

Ever since it was announced that all of Albion Defense Corps would be gathering in Camelot Shatterdome, everyone’s been in a state of panic. Merlin’s only been here for a few months and he still hasn’t been able to get the gist of everything yet, in fact all the K-Science officers tell him to steer clear of the labs. Now, instead of him being in a state of franticness and flailing limbs, everyone is.

All because Uther came down a few days ago to order Gaius and all K-Science personnel to make room for Nemeth and Caerleon’s crew, and Uther Pendragon never came down to K-Science. He usually left the department to themselves, and everyone preferred it that way. So, Merlin could see why everyone was being crazy.

“Merlin!” Gaius rounds the corner before Merlin could get his legs to cooperate with him and his sudden appearance nearly knocks Merlin over.

“Oh Stellar stars! Don’t do that, Gaius!” Merlin gasps, heart pounding and head throbbing while he uses the wall beside them for support.

“My boy! What is wrong with you? Did you take your medications?” Gaius helps him sit down, back against the wall. Lately, Merlin has been feeling a bit out of sorts. Ever since Kilgharrah sent him to go live with Gaius, Merlin’s been feeling the same symptoms as he did when he lived with his mother in Ealdor—nauseous, migraines, wheezing, and insomniac. Not to mention the blackout episodes he randomly wakes up from, memory lapses he tends to have (which might be why everyone looks at him as if he’s so stupid), and anxiety attacks that make him mindless.

When Gaius found out about all this (minus the insomnia because then Merlin would have to talk about that and he has never told anyone about that and he’s not about to start now), he prescribed his nephew some memantine and benzodiazepine to help with his memory problems and anxiety. And Merlin will have to admit that they work for the most part, but that doesn’t mean he like being dependent on drugs. He hates even more the part where he has to swallow them; they make him gag every time. Not to mention his morning routine takes twice as long now since he just stands there in his room with his head tilted back as if the pill will just slide down his throat without the actual swallowing part.

“I took them this morning, Gaius. M’fine. I just woke up from a nap so still groggy, yeah?” Merlin tries to assure his uncle that he’s fine, but Gaius will have none of it from the looks of it.

“I doubt that. Let’s get you back to your room. You can help me tomorrow instead, understand?” Gaius pulls him up and he finds it rather hard supporting his nephew’s frame with his old weary bones, but finds the strength nonetheless from his fondness for the boy and younger sister to continue dragging the half-conscious boy.

“You look like you could use some help, Gaius.” A familiar voice interrupts Gaius’ concentration and the old man tilts his head back past his nephew’s slumped frame to inspect Kilgharrah. Not much has changed in Kilgharrah, aside from the severe bags under his eyes which have layered even more since Gaius last saw him. Clearly, Kilgharrah has not stopped smoking.

“What brings you here?” Gaius questions. Although Kilgharrah has been a loyal family friend, Gaius does not trust the man. When he sent Merlin to come live with him, Gaius knew it was more than just taking care of a personal matter.

“I had to confirm something without Merlin knowing and I fear what I thought will come to realization. We must speak, privately, Gaius. I cannot trust anyone, but you with this.” When Kilgharrah finally meets Gaius’ gaze, his sclera flickers black for a mere fraction of a second but Gaius knows it was not a delusion.

Aug 29, 2020 | Inland

It’s just about dawn when they reach the border of Camelot and Nimueh almost falls to her knees at how much her hometown has not changed, as well as the stars that seem to burn brighter than anywhere else she’s been.

“Will he welcome you?” A hooded figure steps beside her.

“…I don’t know.” Nimueh whispers into the skies, hoping her voice can reach the stars.

Nimueh may not know about other people’s thoughts or decisions, but she knows hers and she’s decided to return to Camelot for her final calling. She just hopes the stars have not guided her wrong all this time.

“Oh, Stellar stars.” Nimueh says it like a prayer and a bright star above her answers with a twinkle.

[erikacousland]

Albion Swords Limited LLC | Facebook

Exorcistus Specifications: Overall length: 45" (114 cm) Blade Length: 35.75" (91 cm) Blade Width (at base): 2.75" (7 cm) CoG: 4.75" (12 cm) CoP: 22" (59 cm) Weight: 3 lbs 14 oz (1.78 kg)

This is a Filmswords product and not based on an historical original. That said, the guard treatment was inspired by a custom sword Peter Johnsson made a few years ago and the blade is based on the Vigil, but exaggerated in size.Like everything else we make, this is fully functional. The blade is very thin in cross-section (like the Vigil) and cutting tests we did with the prototype were impressive. Swords of this scale (SOUS, or "swords of unusual size" as I like to call them) are not unheard-of - look at the St. Maurice (Turin). The sword (in the context of the storyline) is not only a weapon (in "both" worlds) but also a religious artifact (hence the elaborate decorative elements.) The blade inscription is based on a line in Bernard de Clairvaux's "In Praise of the New Knighthood" - "Whether we live or whether we die, we are the Lord's."-but broken into two phrases - Life on one side and Death on the other (also symbolized by the cutting hand on the Death side and the Dove on the Life side.).

[magnificenturlblog]

Which of These Games Should I Play?

I have a ton of PC Games on Different Stores. Most of them were free through a promotion or extremely cheap. Does anyone have a recommendation on which games I should play next? I'm up for any genre.

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Steam

GOOD GAMES

Ashes of the Singularity: Escalation

Batman: Arkham City GOTY

Black Desert

Crusader Kings II

Deiland

Destiny 2

Dungeon Defenders

Dungeon Defenders II (free trial version)

Morrowind

Skyrim

EVE Online

Evil Genius

F1 2018

GRID Autosport

HELLION

Heroes of the Three Kingdoms

Injustice: Gods Among Us Ultimate

Kingdom: CLassic

Lara Croft and the Temple of Osiris

The LEGO NINJAGO Movie Video Game

Little Nightmares

Magrunner: Dark Pulse

Mandagon

Metro 2033

Oceanhorn: monster of Uncharted Seas

Paladins

Path of Exile

Red Wings

Regions of Ruin

RISK: Global Domination

STAR WARS Jedi Knight: Jedi Academy

Steel Rats

Surviving Mars

Terraria

Ticket to Ride: First Journey

Tomb Raider (2013)

Total War: SHOGUN 2

Total War: WARHAMMER II

Ultimate Epic Battle Simulator

The Uncertain: Last Quiet Day

UNDEFEATED

Walking Simulator 2020

Warframe

VIRTUAL REALITY

Bigscreen Beta

The Dream Machine

Google Earth VR

Interkosmos

The Lab

Microsoft Maquette

Museum of Other Realities

Nevermind

Spellbound Spire

Transpose

Waltz of the Wizard

UNCATEGORIZED

10 Second Ninja X

200% Mixed Juice

Acceleration of SugurI 2

Aegis Defenders

Aircar

Albion Online

Arcade Moonlander

Arma: Cold War Assault

Armor of Heroes

Autobahn Police Simulator

Back 4 Blood Beta

Barro

Between Two Castles- Digital Edition

Bomber Crew

Mombergrounds: Battle Royale

Brawlhalla

Catan Universe

Company of Heroes 2

Darwin Project

The Deed

Delores A Thimbleweed Park Mini-Adventure

Deuterium Wars

Drawful 2

Drop

Enderal: Forgotten Stories

ENDLESS Zone

Escape From Tethys

Gamecraft

Geneshift

Ghost in the Shell: Stand Alone Complex

GOAT OF DUTY

GoatPunks

Golden Axed: A Cancelled Prototype

Gravity Wars

Grimm’s Hollow

Headsnatchers

Hellbound: Survival Mode

Higurashi When They Cry Hou Ch. 1 Onikakushi

Influent

Ironsight

Isle of Ewe

Kao the Kangaroo: Round 2

Khan VS Kahn

KurtzPel

Manual Samuel - Anniversary Edition

Martian Law

Minion Masters

Nephise Begins

NIGHTS into Dreams

Nubarron: The adventure of an unlucky gnome

One Drop Bot

PAC-MAN CHAMPIONSHIP EDITION

Pinball FX3

PlanetSide 2

Polyball

Project Mercury

Quake II RTX

Red Eclipse 2

The Search

Showdown Bandit

Simple Story - Alex

Snake Pass

Splitgate

STAR WARS: Knights of the Old Republic

Streets of Kamurocho

UNI

UNturned

Utopos

Warfork

Warhammer Underworlds: Online

Frenzy Retribution

GOG

Ascendant

Brigador: Up-Armored Edition

Butcher

Delores: A Thimbleweed Park Mini-Adventure

Divinity 2: Developer’s Cut

Europa Universalis II

GWENT: The Witcher Card Game

Hellpoint

Hitman: Absolution

Loria

Mable & The Wood

Metro: Last Light Redux

Prison Architect

Seven: Enhanced Edition

Slain: Back From Hell

Syberia

Syberia II

Syndicate Plus

Syndicate Wars

Tonight We Riot

Ultima Underworld I

Ultima Underworld II

War Wind

Warhammer 40,000: Rites of War

The Witcher: Enhanced Edition

XIII

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submitted by /u/SauceHunterMan [link] [comments] from Video Games https://ift.tt/3lMBl3n

[shibasaurusrex]

okay bois, here’s the part of memphis’ bio that i’ve been super duper hyped to actually write out - the part where she actually gets to confront rempart after what happened?? slight warning for gore, but it’s not in too much detail, so please enjoy !

Over the next few days, with some gentle encouragement from Cass, she once again opened up to him and revealed that it was none other than Thomas Rempart who was responsible for the attack a few months prior, the same monster that Cass had taken into custody personally. Being Albion’s CEO, he was able to pinpoint his location almost immediately – to a secure Albion facility located directly underneath the Battersea in Nine Elms. Memphis was only hours away from confronting the man who’d sent her life spiralling out of control, and avenging the brother who she’d practically idolized.

The minutes ticked down, and before she knew it, she was stood outside of the cell where Rempart was being detained, her heart racing and palms sweaty as Cass gave a reassuring squeeze to her shoulder. She didn’t have to face this alone – he was there at her side. Even though half of his face was horribly disfigured as a result of Wrench’s handiwork, there was no mistaking the self-conceited look in his eyes, the same look that had haunted her mere seconds before the hail of bullets had rained down. Being surprisingly calm, she told RADS’ CEO that he was nothing more than a monster and that she was going to make it right, so that he’d never be able to hurt anyone ever again as he’d done to her by taking away Santana. In response, clearly concerned for his life, Rempart revealed something to Memphis that she believed was a blatant lie to save his own skin – that albeit in a weakened state, Santana was still alive, incarcerated at one of RADS’ detainment facilities. At first, she dismissed the notion, having grieved his supposed passing for months and still being crippled by the pain. Becoming frustrated at her refusal to accept the truth and quickly running out of options, Rempart made the foolish decision of taunting her, stating that if his robot prototype was at peak performance, then he wouldn’t have had to have dealt with what he deemed ‘ her family drama ’ – because both her and Santana would have been dead within seconds.

Any chance of him leaving the room alive were now non-existent, as something deep down inside of Memphis completely snapped, and before she could even think, she was on top of him. Whether it was the adrenaline, or rather the pure unfiltered rage flooding through her, it was unclear, but either one or a combination of the two caused the first blow that rained down onto Rempart’s head with her baton to sound out with a loud crack. Amidst her furious screams of how she believed Santana was dead for months because of him and that she hoped that he burned in hell, the blows barrelling down on him continued with all of the strength that she could muster – it was a few minutes until she was completely drenched in blood, Rempart’s now unrecognizable and bloodied body lifeless beneath her. For the first time in months, as Nigel held her in his arms and promised her that everything was going to be okay, she was optimistic that it actually would be. Because there was a chance that Santana was out there, alive.