#bandit mill animation

[odinsblog]

Bandit Mill Animation: This was not a difficult decision

Me: 😊

[boxtown]

Welcome!

Hello! My name is Charlie G. I’m a storyboard artist, director, supervising director and writer. In my time in animation I’ve worked on projects including Jellystone, Big City Greens, Harvey Beaks. 

(Above: Boxtown Promotional Poster by Dylan Forman and Charlie G)

I’d like to officially welcome you to the first unofficial installment of the Official Boxtown Production journal! This is intended to be my official diary as I attempt to create the pilot for Boxtown, an indie film noir buddy comedy pilot starring Alex Hirsch and Tara Strong that’s scheduled to come out around Late 2023 - as well as my own personal journey as an artist.

I wanted to talk a little about my intentions in creating this project. The two main characters, Detective Tim Standing and Bill the Orphan have existed since around 2008 when they were created for a webcomic I was doing in high school.

(Above: Boxtown Artwork by Nicole Rodriguez)

In 2016, I revived the characters as the inspiration for a new project called Boxtown. Instead of superheroes as they originally were intended to be, I turned them into detectives, based on my lifelong secret obsession with wanting to be a detective that first started the moment I saw an episode of Inspector Gadget. 

(Above: Production Turnaround Artwork by Tess Wacker)

I want to create an original internet production that is of very high quality. Obviously, this is a very difficult thing to accomplish. So, this blog will be my attempt to document my difficult experiences while also highlighting the incredible art of the artists that I am so, so lucky to be working with. Boxtown’s team combines seasoned TV animation talent with fresh indie animation talent to create something that is intended to feel new but like a progression of the legacy that has come before.

(Above: Storyboard by Drew Green)

I hope you’ll join me on what has already been a pretty exciting journey! I just want this to be a space where I can document the BTS material and general creation of the project. I also plan to share concept artwork, animation tests, and environment tests here. And our goal is to always credit the artists who created this material properly.

(Above: CG look test by Star’s Art Bar)

-Charlie G. 

[hmvw2015]

Gamer girl from a bizarre little town called Boxtown.

[tardisman14]

I seriously recommend supporting this new indie animation project. More info:

[ankle-beez]

Tara Strong got fired from the upcoming indie cartoon "Boxtown" for her disgustingly racist comments about Palestinians and now she's going on multiple different interviews trying to slander the show's crew and calling them antisemites. (Video after the tweet)

If you'd like to support Boxtown and its crew on their future endeavors follow their social medias below:

[ceilidho]

prompt: reader is a large animal vet making a house call to a certain ex-SAS member's ranch.

-

It’s the first time you’ve been called out to this ranch. 

You’ve been to some others in the surrounding area—just last week you stopped by a ranch just half an hour away—but never this one. It’s far out of the way, almost tough to find—you miss the turnoff twice, each time forced to turn back around and squint to find the poorly marked dirt road leading to the ranch. Your shoulders only unclench when the ranch house finally crests over the horizon and you spot the horses milling around in the fenced-off enclosure. 

They must have had an in-house vet prior to calling you out. None of your colleagues remember ever visiting and the ranch is big enough to necessitate one. It sprawls across the landscape, acres upon acres. The kind of ranch that deals in thoroughbreds, horses that go on to graded stakes races. In the pen already, you can pick out Thoroughbreds and American Warmblood, the distinctive spotting of an Appaloosa, even a couple Hanoverians. 

There are men working around the ranch outside of the main enclosure that you park just a dozen or so yards away from, but something about the man standing by his lonesome with the horses makes you pause. 

A head taller than the rest, and built like a redwood. Bandana affixed around the lower half of his face, almost bandit-like. You shake those thoughts out of your head. You’re not here to pass judgement on people; you’re here for the horses. Whatever scars mar his face are hardly your concern (still, rugged, you think, a bit breathless even sitting in the front seat of your truck). 

When he turns in your direction, eyes locked on your truck and then locked on you when you pop into the back to grab your bag, your back straightens. Imperceptibly, yet still. Compelled to measure up somehow, to whatever standard he expects.

He strikes you as the man in charge. “Mister Riley?” you call out, shielding your eyes from the sun. 

He beckons you over with a gloved hand. Even from the distance, he leaves you unsure of yourself, quick to stumble when his stare starts to burn. 

“Doc,” Riley greets you when you’re close enough, and you fight back a shiver. His voice rumbles like thunder, like hooves pounding into the freshly tamped earth, into the dirt. 

“You called about a pregnant mare,” you remind him. 

The bag in front of your legs puts a bit of distance between the two of you, a needed buffer. Up close, he towers like sequoia, in fact, sleeves rolled up past his forearms, old tattoos on his left arm faded like beaten leather. He holds out a hand though, forcing you to take a step forward out of politeness and shake it. Your lips tighten at the touch of his skin. It’s weathered too, coarse palms and fingertips; there’s dirt caked around his nail beds, the kind that never comes out, the world’s indelible mark on the skin. 

He stares at you for a moment without speaking. There’s no helping the way you squirm under his gaze.

“The horse,” you remind him, cheeks hot.

“She’s in the stables; I’ll bring ya to her.”

You struggle to keep up with him, bag bumping against your leg as you haul ass after him. Big as he is, he moves quickly, fast on his feet—used to quick beasts, you know, probably used to anticipating their movements, always one step ahead. Your last shred of decency keeps you from staring at his ass the entire walk to the stables. 

Her coat is a rich coal colour, mane sun-bleached. Inky eyes peer back at you when Riley lets you into her stall. It’s cooler inside somehow, out of the inescapable glare of the sun; the sweat on the back of your neck stays wet under Riley’s eyes though, nervous rather than weather-born. 

She’s gorgeous though, the mare. Pretty as can be. Heavily pregnant too, you can see. Obviously well taken care of too, still decently muscled like she’s still been taken for walks and rides during her pregnancy. 

“She’s too far along now to ride,” he tells you when you remark on that, his voice carrying in the confined space. He doesn’t raise his voice, but it makes you perk up again, at attention, head whipping over your shoulder to look at him. 

“I can tell. A little over two months ‘till she delivers,” you say with a nod, looking down at the chart you have on her. “I can come back for her last deworming before she foals, if you want.”

He grunts, doesn’t answer. You take it as an affirmative. 

It doesn’t take you long to run through her check-up. A docile girl, you coo when she lets you touch her without any sign of aggression, sweet-tempered thing. It’s second nature after all, at this point in your life. 

Still, you find yourself watching Riley out of the corner of your eye, careful under his watchful gaze. Not that you usually aren’t, but still. Your movements feel intentional, precise. 

When he walks you out, you get a bit bolder in the sunlight. Freer to pester him with questions. 

“Did your last vet retire or something?” you ask, fishing for information. It’s probably none of your business, but you find yourself curious anyway. There are a few different vet practices operating in the area, so it’s always helpful to know who’s going to your competitors. 

He shakes his head. “Friend of mine went to school for this—been with me as long as I’ve had the ranch. He got hitched a couple weeks ago though.”

“Moving away?” you guess.

“Opening up a practice,” he corrects, making you frown. That’s worse, at least for you. “On his honeymoon this month though, so he gave me your name.”

“My boss’ name, you mean.”

“That’s right,” he says, and you realize that he’s walked you all the way to your car, half-pinning you to the door of your truck. Just close enough that a new layer of sweat breaks out on the back of your neck. You have to crane your neck to meet his eyes. “Don’t know if I caught yours, little filly.”

Now that makes you stutter over your name, confidence finally failing you. When he hums like he’s caught your name in his head now, mapped it to you with his sharp eyes, you feel yourself swallow reflexively. 

“Not like you’ll need it for long,” you tease, trying to gain back some semblance of control. “Just until your friend gets back and sets up his practice, at least.”

“Not sure about that. Might find some use for you yet,” Riley says, close enough now that you can tell he smells of hay and silage, peppery when you breathe in too heavily. 

And you breathe too heavily. Hard not to when he crowds you up against the truck, hand laying flat on the roof, boxing you in. You wonder if any of the ranch hands are looking over at the two of you, curious. 

“What do you mean?” you ask, head empty. Mouth dry enough now that it hurts a bit to swallow. 

His brown eyes glint in the sun. Honey gold under the light. “I can think of a few reasons to keep you around.”

[that-basic-simp]

Dis Dane

Fem! Eivor x Fem! Reader CW: N/A WC: 3.3k+ A/N: Get it. It's because they call Vikings Danes. And it's a play on words of the word "disdain". I'll see myself out.

This is not good. Not one bit. As soon as I saw their boat sailing through our waters, I knew we were in for it. They were always brutes and whenever the first wave of Danes came, it was all over for us. This was a new world for them and all they ever knew was pillaging and violence. They didn't speak the language of the English. They certainly did not have the intelligence either. Now, there are more and more of them coming from across the sea. They must be stopped if we are to ensure the safety of our current people and the next generation.

I tried to tell that to my father, as he was a nobleman under the King's court. He did not listen and now the Danes were on our doorstep, slaughtering our people, taking what is not rightfully theirs. And it was all because the King could not see what was happening under his own nose. It was madness. New blood was spilled everyday and the livestock was growing thin. The farmers had fled East, away from the Danes and further into England. More and more people continue to flee and what do we do? Stay and do nothing. I was not going to become another victim.

I set out late in the night, so that it was dark as could be. The only thing that would light my way was the moon. I did not dare use a torch as it would give me away easily. Once I walked right past the gates, since we were running low on guards and soldiers, I was into farmland that was burnt or overwhelmed by the stench of dead animal carcasses. Wolves and other predatory animals found a home there and they were another threat to us.

After passing another set of gates and stepping onto the bridge, I turned and looked at the large castle in the distance. For my entire life I had lived there. I grew up with my father and sat beside princes, noblemen, everyone who held power. I remembered so many feasts whenever we had taken over new land or gained new allies. Our empire was growing, but now, it would see its end by the Danes. I for one would not want to witness such a powerful empire be brought down by a bunch of savages.

The night grew on and I grew tired and weary from walking. I had no idea how far East some of our people went. I expected to see some settlements by the river, as that brought in great opportunity for trade and hunting. But there was nothing. Those settlements were burnt down or pillaged. So much for settling on the river side after fleeing. The moon started to get higher in the sky and my feet were growing more weary by the minute. I had to press on. I couldn't stop, not even for one minute. But as the weariness washed over me, I found myself sitting down underneath a small cliff.

Sounds of metal and snickers caused me to wake from my slumber. I opened my eyes to find my arms were tied behind my back and my ankles bound. I was laying on the ground so all I could do was wriggle around like a useless worm. I let out a sigh as there were some men sitting in a circle by a fire.

"Unhand me, Danes!"

One man turned. They weren't Danes. They were Saxons. Bandits.

"You're really going to lump us in with them?" he asked.

"You can be as brutish as the Danes. Now unhand me. My father will hear about this."

"Can't do much now," he said, shaking his hand. "Your kind is as useful as thralls."

The others started to laugh while I just continued to lay on the ground in the cold. The moon was starting to dip down and little streaks of daylight were crawling onto the night sky. They got up once the sun was up and started to mill about their camp, getting ready to set off to who knows where. And I unfortunately was going to be with them. If only someone could save me.

A bush nearby started to rustle and I turned as much as I could to find there was something blue that stared back at me. I was about to scream, but a hand reached out and covered my mouth. Their face poked out from the bush and a finger was over their lips. I nodded my head and they removed their hand, receding back into the bushes. Over the course of ten minutes, the men who were in the camp were slowly being dealt with by this assassin. Once the last man was no longer standing, the person stood up. A Dane. I was saved by a filthy Dane?

She came over and cut off my bindings. I stood up and immediately slapped her, which she had no reaction to.

"You think a little slap can hurt me?" she asked in a low, raspy voice. It was like nails on a wall.

"Of all people, I am saved by a Dane!"

"You should be grateful. Your own kind wanted to use you."

"How do you know?"

"I followed them ever since they took you."

"And you just now decided to intervene?"

"Seems you were enjoying the show from down there," she snickered.

"I'll have you know--"

She reached over and pressed a finger to my lips.

"Little lady, I don't care who you are, what power you hold. If you're not someone I need to associate with, I will be on my way."

I smacked her hand away, "Get those rotund fingers away from me."

"Why? Afraid you might like them a bit too much?" she grinned.

"How uncouth! I would never associate with a Dane in such sinful manner."

"Not what I was implying, but ok."

"I must be going."

"And where exactly are you going?"

"Why? Are you going to follow me?"

"If you continue to be a target, I might as well."

"I am not some damsel in distress."

"You just were earlier."

"Fine, if I am to be a damsel in distress, I might as well wait for my knight in shining armor. An actual knight in shining armor."

She smacked her lips and shook her head, "I could have just let you be used as a thrall. I could have let those men have their way with you."

"I'd prefer that than be saved by someone like you."

"Believe me, my kind are not as bad as your people lead you to believe," she walked off.

"Can I at least get your name?" I asked.

"Now you want to be nice?"

"Just so I can put a name to your face. So I can avoid it later."

She laughed and removed the bear head she wore. Her blonde braided hair came into view and it made her piercing blue eyes stand out. There was a marking on the right side of her head and I could see some tattoos on her arms.

"Eivor," she said before putting the bear head back on, walking off into the woods.

Eivor. I shouldn't be thinking about her, even after I had finally made it East and found a small settlement to be a part of. Things were going smoothly for me and even if I wasn't in some fancy castle, it was nice being with like minded people with a similar disdain for the Danes. But as the days turned into weeks and people have been talking about the growth of a certain population of Danes, I couldn't help but think back to Eivor and that fateful night.

How the right corner of her mouth tipped upwards into a smirk. Those dangerous, yet gentle eyes that looked like the seas itself. And the blonde hair that looked like the wheat in the fields, soft and thick. Then it was the skin on her face, the scar that stretched across her left cheek. Through the ruggedness of her personality, that appeared to be the only soft thing about her.

"Y/N!"

I opened the door and found one of the villagers with someone. Wait a minute.

"Someone wishes to speak with you."

"Thank you," I said and walked towards the person. I could tell who they were just by their height and build.

I reached down and grabbed her hand, pulling her into my small house. As soon as the door closed, I ripped the hood of her cloak off.

"How'd you know it was me?" she chuckled.

"I could just smell the blood on you," I hissed.

"Really?"

She grabbed the corner of the hood and raised it to her face, taking a deep inhale.

"I just washed this."

"Idiot!" I said and smacked her upside the head.

"Hey, hey."

"I wasn't being serious."

"You need to lighten up," Eivor said and spun around the house.

"Small, yet cozy."

"What are you doing here? And how did you find me?"

"How can you eat and sleep in here? I'd be afraid of burning the place down," she tapped the small pot that was over the fire with her foot.

"Hey, stop that."

"And you sleep on that? Little lady, you really down graded from the once luxurious life you had."

"I'm actually happy."

"You are?" she turned, an eyebrow perking up.

"Yes. I am. I am happy here because I have a commune that share similar ideals and morals."

"Let me guess, you all hate the Danes. Us."

"Yes. Which I am surprised you were able to step a foot in here."

"I have to blend in where I can."

"Anyway, what are you doing here?"

"Came to see you. More like check in on you."

"It's been weeks since we had last spoken and now you're coming after me? What are you? A stalker?"

"It's not stalking if I had no idea where you went in the first place. Call it tracking."

"Alright, how did you track me?"

"Asked around of course. How else?"

"You didn't send a spy?"

"Synin is hardly a spy," she said.

"Synin?"

Eivor stepped towards the window and held out her arm, a sharp whistle came from her lips. A raven, black as night and large like a bull's head, came flying in and landed on her arm.

"This is Synin."

"She's huge," I exclaimed and stepped towards her.

The raven didn't even fly away or step back. She didn't even try to peck at me.

"May I?"

"Of course."

I reached over and rubbed the feathers. The raven let out a small caw of appreciation before I pulled my hand away.

"She's beautiful."

"The finest raven I have ever seen," Eivor said. "She's one of my best friends."

"Are you friends with all the animals?" I chuckled.

"More or less," Eivor stuck her arm out of the window and Synin flew off.

"You should leave," I said.

"Kicking me out already?" Eivor laughed.

"No, it's just that, once word travels that a Dane was here, everyone will be searching one another's houses and stuff. It is best that you keep a low profile and don't come here as often."

"I can handle myself."

"I know you can. But I don't want to be the reason I am ostracized from the village."

"Even if they do, I can always bring you back to Ravensthorpe."

I slowly nodded my head, "That's generous of you, Eivor. But would your people be willingly open to let my kind in? Especially after the way we've treated you?"

"We've seen change lately. For better and for worse. But even if you feel threatened by my clan, I won't hesitate to step in."

I smiled, "Thank you, Eivor."

I just realized my heart pounded against my chest, my face had grown warm and I felt light headed, like I was going to faint any second. What was this Dane doing to me? Was she cursed? Had she cursed me to feel this way? No. She's not like how my people describe her to be. She's different. And I've been blindly eating what my people feed me.

"I'll leave the back door open for you. Come any time. Preferably at night."

She smiled at me, "Thank you."

The back door swung open and she raised her hood on her cloak. She waved goodbye to me and stepped out of the house, heading back to where Ravensthorpe was. As she departed, something slipped out from behind her and onto the ground. I quickly went out and grabbed it before I came back inside. It looked like it was part of the gear she wears. Like one of her furs. I looked around the house before I brought the fabric to my face, taking in the scent of it. No blood. It smelt of the river and fish, the air and the birds, the pine of the trees and fresh grass. Of all people for me to be friends with, it was a Dane. I shouldn't be calling her that. A Norse woman.

I opened my eyes and found someone sitting across from me. I almost yelped and leapt out of my bed, but after I found it was Eivor, my heart calmed before it began to beat rapidly again. Her head was slumped over and her left arm was resting on her left leg as it was bent upwards. Her right leg was against the floor while her right arm was just dangling beside her. I couldn't help but smile. I got up and stepped towards her. I shook her shoulder a bit, but she remained asleep. I grabbed underneath her arms and dragged her to the bed. That was a struggle as I didn't know she had that much muscle density to her body. Once she was on the bed, I pulled a blanket over her.

"Sleep well, Eivor."

I began to do my daily chores about my house and by mid afternoon, after I had come back from helping a lady milk her cows, Eivor was awake.

"Did you bring me into your bed?"

"Yes. You looked uncomfortable sleeping against the wall."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome," I said and put some things down on a small table, preparing dinner for tonight.

"I still never got your name."

I turned around and was face to face with her, those curious eyes looking right back into mine.

"Y-Y/N," I stuttered.

That was new.

"Y/N," she repeated. "Beautiful."

There was a long silence between us. Unlike the other silent moments I have experienced, this felt natural and comfortable.

"I should be going. It's getting late."

She was about to take off through the back door, but I reached over and grabbed her hand.

"Stay," I said.

"Why?"

"Stay for dinner."

"Do you need help preparing the meal?"

"I should be ok. Thank you."

The night was an interesting one. She told me stories of her journey from Norway and how she sailed across the sea with her people. She told stories of her raids and how she would kill those who needed to be killed. I could listen to her talk all day. That low, raspy voice was tickling something in the back of my head. It made me feel giddy inside, light weight. Like I was floating on cloud nine. After dinner was cleaned up, she bid me farewell and headed into the night. This would soon become our daily routine before a month later, someone was catching on.

"That person that keeps visiting you," the lady with the cows said.

"What about them?"

"You two seem to like one another."

"Not at first we didn't."

"They're mysterious."

"Indeed they are."

"How are they? Are they kind? Gentle? Brutish?"

I squeezed one of the udders too hard and the cow mooed loudly. I released my grip and turned to face the lady.

"I know who that person is."

"Y-You do?"

"They're a Dane."

My mouth opened and closed, but words have failed me.

"They're not causing any trouble."

"Not yet. They're all the same. Once we do something that they don't like, they're going to kill us. Slaughter us all like how they did back at home! We cannot let this happen again."

"You must believe me," I stood up, wiping my hands on my apron. "She would never hurt us."

"She?!"

"Yes. She. Not all Danes are men. And not all Danes are the same. Hell, they're not Danes. They're Norse!"

"A month ago you were talking to us about how you left the city to escape the Danes. Escape what could possible be our downfall. A month ago you were spitting on the dirt they walked on. Now, you're friends with one. Have they plagued your mind, Y/N? Have they made you commit sins against your own kind?"

"Eivor would never!"

My eyes widened and I slapped a hand to my mouth.

"Eivor," the lady whispered. "That's her name?"

I didn't move, but the tears forming in my eyes gave it away.

"Leave at once."

I ran back to the house and that night, when Eivor came, she was knocking on the back door as I had locked it. I had put something over the window and I locked the front door. She tried the front door, tried the window, but I wouldn't let her in. I can't anymore. For both of our safety.

"Y/N, if you don't open the door I am going to break it down."

"Fine, fine. G-Give me a second."

I got up and unlocked it. As soon as she stepped in, a worried look came across her face.

"Y/N, is something wrong, dear?"

"They know."

"Who knows?"

"This lady I milk cows with. She knows about you."

Eivor closed the door and pulled me into a tight embrace. The smell of the woods and river hit me. It reminded me of home. How I could smell the river from just opening my window and I could look out at the woods from the city. Tears filled my eyes and I found myself silently sobbing in her arms. Of all people, it was a person my people hated. It was someone I hated before. But now, how could I ever hate someone who is so soft and kind, gentle and caring as much as Eivor?

"Shh, shh," she cooed in my ear as she ran her hand through my hair. "We have to leave then."

"Where would we go?" I asked.

"I told you. If anything happens, you'd come to Ravensthorpe with me."

I pulled away and found the worried expression was replaced with a serious one.

"You mean it?"

She nodded her head, "Yes. I mean it."

"Thank you, Eivor," I hugged her once more.

"Of course, Y/N."

"E-Eivor?" I pulled away and faced her once more.

"Yes, Y/N?"

I grabbed her by her cloak and pulled her down to me, since she was a bit taller than me. Of all the nights we spent together, having dinner, sharing stories, being us around one another, it made me realize something about her. While she was a strong and powerful woman with a rage so strong I could never imagine, she also had a deep vulnerability that was as vast as the sea. There were nights of her crying in her sleep to where I had to comfort her. She taught me Nordic poems and songs that I sang to help her calm down. And she would do the same for me when I had nightmares of my mother. She was someone I had looked for in the city, but never found.

Her hand reached up and cupped my jaw as our lips met one another's. They were soft and warm, like how her cheeks were. Like how she was. Our lips melded together as if we were made for one another. I never would have thought I would love a Norse woman as I do now. I pulled away and tears were now sliding down Eivor's face. Her cheeks were flushed and a joyous tint was in her eyes. Such joy came together with awe and what appeared to be love was held in her eyes.

"You are mine, Y/N."

"I am yours, Eivor."

"We must go. Now. While people are asleep."

"Yes," I said.

Eivor helped me gather my most valuable belongings and we set out from the back of the village, making sure we were quiet on our way out. Once we had reached a safe distance away, we were home free to Ravensthorpe, where I would be greeted with a warm welcome and lots of mead.

[one-of-many-journeys]

Day 14 (1/2)

Lone Light

Up with the sun, of course. Most of the others in the inn did the same, being travelling hunters, even a couple of Banuk I saw stumbling around in puddles of their own spilled drink last night. Impressive. I spotted smoke and the red skull flags of a bandit camp next to a rock arch on the road. Nil was there. Is he following me, or just returning home to his homeland?

As usual, we took them out silently at first, targeting their snipers and the alarm, then the gunner, using his heavy weapon to pick off the rest in a hail of metal.

Nil is...concerning. He participated in the Red Raids, which I guess I knew, him being an ex-soldier for the Carja, but since then I've learnt more about the terror of those times for the Nora and other tribes. I can't figure him out. He volunteered a confession for his brutality during the war and served a sentence in prison. Makes more sense to lock dangerous people up than just send them away, make them someone else's problem, but I can see what Teersa meant when she called Nora practices humane.

I'm not sure if Nil was always the way he is now, but the way he tells it, it was in prison at Sunstone Rock that he honed his outlook on the world. He doesn't care who he kills, as long as he gets to do it. It's a thrill for him, it seems. Strangely he seems perfectly content to let me take the lead in the camps. Is he testing me? Looking for a spark in my eyes that he feels in his own? He wants me to enjoy it too. Maybe...maybe I do. A well executed hunt is always fulfilling, and the lives of the people in these lands would be better off without this red smoke stain with its warring and plundering. Maggots, Nil called them.

I wouldn't feel this way killing innocents, of course. I've only ever killed killers, people who kill for sport or personal gain. There's justice in that. I know there is.

Meridian from over the rise, and a huge machine stalking the area to the right—a Thunderjaw. I've heard of them, Erend mentioned them. One of the new, deadly machines brought forth by the Derangement. Rested a while in some nearby ruins.

Things got greener the further I rode down toward the river. I stopped my mount at a crossroads, the way to the city being crowded and narrow, stocking up on herbs by the riverbank.

The view from the mountain path.

There was an encampment at the top of the mesa loaded with traders milling around with their wares, carts of food, fabrics, machine parts and wandering animals. The way to the city was blocked by guards, searching all stock that passed through. I heard mutterings that even Carja were being searched, something about keeping all outlanders away. Hard to tell what was law and what was only hearsay. I'm not going to let these Carja stop me from getting to Olin.

There was a huge, golden complex of towers atop an edifice separate from the city proper. Must be the Sun King's residence. With the way Irid and the other Carja talk about him, I guess I can't be surprised—they worship him, but how can one man be deserving of all that wealth? The people out here have sweat on their brows and mud on their soles.

I rested in the camp, hoping to wait out the commotion at the bridge entrance.

No such luck. I figured I'd have a better chance slipping through in Carja clothes (scrounged up the shards to buy their silks), but my Nora Seeker mark and weaponry will probably give me away. The bridge was a marvel of construction: huge chain pulleys hoisting moving platforms up and down.

The disguise was no use anyway, there was a line of guards waiting at the city gates who stopped me immediately. They told me that Ersa had been murdered by Shadow Carja. Gera told me a little about them so I wasn't completely clueless. The Carja are in the midst of a civil war, and Erend has been promoted to captain of the vanguard in his sister's place. It's a shame. I would have liked to meet her.

When I asked the guards to summon Erend, they might have turned me away there and then if Erend hadn't happened by himself, stone drunk. He agreed to let me search Olin's cabin, since he's out of the city on a delve. Did he hear about me? I guess he has no reason to believe I'm alive anyway.

Erend led me through the city, the entrance crowded with Carja and Oseram, heavily armoured. It was loud, stunk of spices and manure, crammed with the cries of sellers, but it was beautiful. So tall, felt like I was going to strain my neck taking in the turrets and domes and overhead walkways, blue flags and hanging ivy swept up in the breeze.

Erend wasn't too happy with the mob gathering in the city, demanding vengeance for Ersa's death. He cussed out the herald and they dispersed. I've heard people whispering of the new Sun King's supposed weakness when it comes to retribution before now, and it seems the sentiment is stronger here in the city.

Searching Olin's apartment. It was huge, decorated with mosaics and embroidered drapings, lounges and beds and shelves full of trinkets. His treachery has made him wealthy. Breaking through a vault door to his hidden basement, I found a map and journal proving Olin was a traitor and that the killers were targeting me. I also found a message, the killers holding his wife and child hostage, urging him to obey. So he was coerced...it doesn't change anything.

I guess what befell the Nora was my fault, in a way. Olin just happened to be there, and he saw me. If I never went up and spoke to him...Where would I be? Would my boon for winning the Proving have been granted? I would never have seen that image of the short-haired woman, that's for sure, and would be forbidden from leaving the Sacred Lands to search for an antidote to the corruption barring me from the door in the mountain. None of this was worth the lives lost, of course, but maybe this was the only way I was ever going to find the answers I've been seeking all my life.

I found Olin's location among the evidence, but before I could leave Erend begged me to use the Focus to search the field where Ersa and her soldiers fell to the Shadow Carja. Maybe I shouldn't have told him about the Focus. Then again, he granted me access to the city and to Olin's house. I should return the favour.

Meridian by night. Fire dancers, then I was attracted to a beautiful, mournful chorus and came upon an open rooftop, a pyre in the centre surrounded by singing sun priests. I wonder if Irid is here somewhere. There were many worshippers, and the altars around the circumference of the space each held artefacts and sigils of a different tribe. Shrines to commemorate those lost in the Red Raids.

There were many at the Oseram shrine, many more at the Carja, a few Banuk. None prayed for the Nora. I sat there, not sure if you could call it praying. The weapons and armour of the dead were on display. I turned and saw one of the sun priests watching me from the edge of the chamber.

His name was Naman, and he was seeking help in clearing sites of worship for a Banuk and an Utaru (the first I've seen) who had come to mourn their own. I agreed to help. At first I didn't really understand the spectacle of it all. Such showy rituals do nothing for the dead. Naman said they're for the living, that they help us to represent the feeling of grief, give it form. Does that separate it from us, in a way? I remember the flowers and artefacts at Rost's grave, his feather cape slung over the headstone as if it was his own body, unyielding, carved with runes of life and memory. It's still in me though, the grief. Those were Nora rituals. What are mine?

I think I'm too practical for ritual anyway; too bitter for prayers.

The spire. In the night, it's even clearer that it's machine made, the way it glimmers along trace faultlines.

Tired, but there's so much to see in this city. I'll stop by the Hunter's Lodge next. As much as I'd like to stay here on the empty outlook under the stars, I think the priests will kick me out soon enough.

[ceasarslegion]

In your bio you mentioned you were a furry, what is your fursona?

A raccoon named Bandit! I'm actually planning on redesigning him when i have a moment to breathe (i am in the middle of so many things right now) becaue as he stands he's just a run of the mill blond-variant raccoon. I first made him when I was admittedly deep into internalized shame so I avoided any bright fun colours and stuck with something that already happens to real raccoons, but I want to toss that design out and do something actually fun.

I do have quite a few drawings of him, but about half of them are extremely horny and the other half are the design i want to scrap. But i can show you the raccoons i have in my apartment!

I found this guy for 2 dollars at a thrift store and had to take him home with me

These christmas ornaments were gifts from @alphabetsoupcomics because we went to uni together and he came to visit after i graduated and moved away

These shifty guys adorn my laptop

And this little buddy attached to my work bag accompanies me on my commute. Featuring my fluffy animal paw pajama socks in the background

Once i decide on a design for Bandit, i hope to get started on a fursuit for him. For now, i just have a set of paws

[jaywhangmakes]

Instead of groaning over Disney's live-action remakes, support independent animations.

(Note: I once posted a now-deleted blog post about the same topic. This is a revision based on my proofreaders' suggestions.)

I have seen a lot of people groaning about Disney’s live-action remakes and lamenting how 2D animation is “dead” in the West, especially in light of Sean Bailey’s announcement of a live action The Lion King saga. Most of these complaints are about Disney prioritizing remakes instead of animated works, or worse, trying to kill off 2D animation. The thing is, the world doesn’t need to rely on the Walt Disney Studios for innovation in hand drawn animation. Even if the animation industry in the western hemisphere is marginalized, there are animators who want to rebuild this industry from the ground up. Before you buy a ticket for the next live action Disney remake, consider backing some of the following crowdfunding campaigns for independent animation projects. Yes, some of these crowdfunding campaigns are for 3D animations as well, but compared to mainstream 3D works, these feel rather personal and humble.

These are the projects that are currently looking for funding as of June 8th, 2023.

BOXTOWN: THE PRODUCTION CROWDFUND

Boxtown is an indie animated noir buddy comedy about a con man detective (played by Alex Hirsch, creator of Gravity Falls and voice of Bill Cipher, Grunkle Stan and Hooty) who teams up with an innocent, true-crime-obsessed orphan with a hidden murderous side (played by Tara Strong, known as the voice of Twilight Sparkle, Timmy Turner, Miss Minutes in Loki, and Ben 10).

Funding due date: July 2nd, 2023, 4PM EST

The first I heard about Boxtown was through TikTok videos where Charlie P. Gavin, the series’s creator, asked voice actors to audition their characters by stitching their submission to the casting call video. The way Bandit Mill Animation’s production team casted this project showed me the importance of transparency and having their supporters and followers participate in their process. This project has brought in animation industry veterans, top voice-acting talents, and up-and-comers to create a new kind of neo-noir comedy animated series. I want to know more about where this project is heading considering how much the creators have put their passion into it.

CHEW GUM: An Animated Musical Series

CHEW GUM is an adult animated musical series created by Shane Curry, based on characters he's been animating for many years. Early incarnations of the characters have garnered over 28,000,000 (twenty-eight million) views on TikTok alone, and this series is the culmination of years of animation development, songwriting and voice acting all rolled into one weird ball of gum.

Funding due date: June 30th, 2023, 4PM EST

Similar to Boxtown, I came across CHEW GUM while searching “independent animation” on TikTok. A day later, I encountered the producer of this series and the main organizer of the crowdfunding campaign at the underground animation screening held in Brooklyn. On the way home, we talked together about the state of independent animation, some advice regarding crowdfunding, and I shared my own works with her. That night, I watched the series and I found them rather adorable. If you’re looking for an easy-to-watch 3D steam that feels pleasant, this series is for you.

Constancy Roa OVA

Constancy Roa is an OVA (Original Video Animation) brought to you by the creative minds at InfinityArk, an up and coming animation company. It does not have a specific genre, instead opting for the more melting pot approach of the 90s to early 2000s OVA anime series. Which means it has action, drama, romance, adult situations, graphic violence, and dark comedy. At its core, it's a war story between Cygens and Humanity. Approximately, five minutes of the hour-long pilot contained scenes with adult content. It is inspired by works like the Bubblegum Crisis OVAs, Project A-ko, and the game series Megaman X. We hope to make a series that will bridge the gap between current anime and "retro" anime of the past. This OVA is about Cygens, which have been unleashed and the world will never be the same. A new melting pot style OVA series that bridges the old and new.

Funding due date: 07/06/2023 8:00 AM EDT

This is a throwback to the late 90s/early 2000s OVA anime, when visuals are grungy and animation reflects as such. The style reminds me of those OVAs that Manga entertainment used to promote on their home videos with KMFDM’s music in the background. In fact, I wanted animated works that tried to replicate the feel of the older media, much like how the movies The Lighthouse or Pearl did. My twitter friend Shakyra Dunn is involved in this as the voice for the character Natasha Gifford. She is very much excited about this project.

Jades Diary Season 2

An animated mini-series following the adventures of Jade Raven.

Funding due date: June 18th, 2023, 3PM EST

Like Chew Gum, I came across Jade's Diary through the TikTok discover page. It is an independent animation crowdfunding campaign that’s still going on and only has a handful of supporters. I haven’t seen the first season of the series. But I loved the animation style so much that I really wanted this campaign to succeed. It was almost like our homegrown Studio Trigger project.

Sunnyside Magic High: Animated Short

Sunnyside Magic High is an indie animated coming-of-age action-adventure pilot set inside the high fantasy world of Cora. It follows four magical royals who attend a prestigious academy where they hone their magic and prepare to one day rule their own kingdoms. An animated short introducing you to four magical, unstable royals and their prestigious academy.

Funding due date: July 22, 2023

I am writing this while New York City is stuck under the Quebec wildfire smoke apocalypse. I need something wholesome to get my own doomer feeling out of my mind while surviving this smoke-filled apocalypse. And this series could uplift my downer mood in recent days (or years). It seems like this targets people who are nostalgic toward the Renaissance period of the Walt Disney Studios where they produce animated musicals with coming-of-age themes. Not only that, the series could fill up the empty space in every Harry Potter’s fans’ heart after they were disappointed by its author’s bigotry.

[ghelgheli]

The Stuff I Read in August 2023

Stuff I Extra Liked Is Bold

Books

Raven Stratagem, Yoon Ha Lee (2017)

Reconsidering Reparations, Olúfẹ́mi O. Táíwò (2022)

The Mirror of My Heart: A Thousand Years of Persian Poetry by Women, trans. Dick Davis (2019)

The Origins of Unfairness, Cailin O'Connor (2019)

Short Fiction

the prisoner, ignatz

The Unwanted Guest, Tamsyn Muir

She Loves to Cook, and She Loves to Eat, Sakaomi Yuzaki

Still Sick, Akashi

Born Again Bunny, ignatz

A Museum of Dubious Splendors, Studio Oleomingus

In the Pause Between the Ringing, Studio Oleomingus

The Indifferent Wonder of an Edible Place, Studio Oleomingus

Game Theory

The Bargaining Problem, John Nash (1950)

Two Person Cooperative Games, John Nash (1953)

Perfect Equilibrium in a Bargaining Model, Ariel Rubinstein (1982)

Marriage and household decision making: A bargaining analysis, Marilyn Manser and Murray Brown (1980)

Evolutionary Game Theory

The theory of games and the evolution of animal conflicts, John Maynard Smith (1974)

The Logic of Animal Conflict, John Maynard Smith and George R. Price (1973)

Why imitate, and if so, how? A boundedly rational approach to multi-armed bandits, Karl Schlag (1996)

On the Stability of Racial Capitalism, Liam Kofi Bright, Nathan Gabriel, Cailin O'Connor, Olúfẹ́mi O. Táíwò

Fairness and Signaling in Bargaining Games, Mihaela Popa-Wyatt, Roland Mühlenbernd Jeremy L. Wyatt

Inequality and Inequity in the Emergence of Conventions, Calvin Cochran and Cailin O'Connor (2019)

Power by Association, Travis LaCrois and Cailin O'Connor (2020)

Why Natural Social Contracts are not Fair, Cailin O'Connor (2022)

How to Put the Cart Behind the Horse in the Cultural Evolution of Gender, Daniel Saunders (2022)

Division of Labor, Economic Specialization, and the Evolution of Social Stratification, Joseph Heinrich and Robert Boyd (2008)

On the emergence of minority disadvantage: testing the cultural Red King hypothesis, Aydin Mohseni, Cailin O'Connor, and Hannah Rubin (2021)

Philosophy (broadly construed)

"But What Are You, Really?" The Metaphysics of Race, Charles W. Mills (1998)

Heterosexualism and the Colonial/Modern Gender System, Maria Lugones

Extracted Speech, Rachel Ann McKinney (2016)

Nozick's Entitlement Theory of Justice, Kenneth J. Arrow (1978)

Nietzsche, the Chinese Worker's Friend, Ishay Landa (1999)

Measuring Conventionality, Cailin O'Connor (2020)

Other

Who Was Barbie? various @ nplusonemag

Lockhart's Lament, Paul Lockhart

Female Hunters of the Early Americas, Randall Haas et al.

We Have No Moat, and Neither Does OpenAI, anonymous

The Bitter Lesson, Rich Sutton

The Evolution of Individual and Cultural Variation in Social Learning, Alex Mesoudi et al.

Medieval Arab Lesbians and Lesbian-Like Women, Sahar Amer (2009)

"My son was castrated as a result of a medical error. Is it OK to raise him as a eunuch?" Thomas W. Johnson and Richard J. Wassersug (2021)

[queen-of-the-weenies]

The Bandit Queen's Bride: The Marketplace (Part 2)

See, I promised :)

Also link to part 1

~~~

Jin stood from her spot on the cushion, making a mental note to buy a better one for the old man. Last thing she needed was him hurting his hip and whinging for days about how the cushion was to blame. He deserved better than that. The gold bits felt hot in her hand, begging to be spent, but she held herself in check. Patience, Jin… Patience…

Her eye caught on a flash of something shiny, drawing her attention across the market square. There, nearly drowned out by the crushing mass of bodies shuffling by, stood a woman with her auburn hair contained in a net of woven gold threads and diamonds, lending a sparkle to every minute movement of her head. It was the dazzling flash that had drawn Jin’s eye, but that was hardly the thing that rooted her in place.

No, what stopped her dead was that, as she peered over the sea of bodies milling about in a lazy shuffle, the woman looked back at her, and their eyes locked.

Maybe it was the heat from standing in the sun. Maybe it was the claustrophobic press of the crowd before her. Maybe it was the headache born from days of stress and hunger and sleeplessness. Whatever the reason, Jin found herself struck dumb by the eye contact. It lasted just a second--less than a second, truthfully.

But it was long enough.

She was barely aware of “Blessed fuckin’ stars” leaving her lips in a breathless tone. If she’d still had her wits about her, the Bandit Queen would have been mortified that her interest was so obvious. At least the only of her bandits who witnessed the lapse of composure was Gallum. Entranced, she began wading through the crowd toward the woman, who’d already turned away to examine the wares of the stall where she stood.

~

“See anything you like, miss?”

The merchant inquired with a hopeful voice, but the words bounced around in her head without fully processing. Mella stared blankly at the table, trying to appear interested despite having no idea what she was looking at. Her thoughts were racing, already replaying the split-second eye contact she’d made with the gorgeous stranger across the way. The woman’s hair was matted and dirty, the blonde edging closer to brown in color, and her clothes were quite shabby… But her eyes… The gaze she met was dark and wild, like an animal that wasn’t quite tame. Just thinking about those eyes sent a little shiver down her spine in spite of the heat.

The merchant cleared his through, the polite sound barely audible over the noise of the marketplace, but it succeeded in drawing her attention back to the present. Embarrassed by her own behavior, Mella plucked up the first thing she saw on the table, presenting it to the merchant. If she made a purchase, surely he wouldn’t care that she hadn’t said a word for nearly a minute.

“This, if you please.”

As the words left her lips, Mella cursed herself. She didn’t have her purse with her! Freidrech had insisted that she didn’t need it. Why would she, when he could buy whatever she wanted? Of course, that was before she slipped away, leaving him to argue with the manager of the restaurant where they’d eaten lunch. He was probably still there, the insipid boar.

“Ah, excellent choice, miss! This is my finest piece among a selection of fine pieces! The price is twelve gold bits, but for the pretty lady, a mere six bits is all I ask.”

Mella stared at the man, then at her hand. In her grasp was a necklace made of woven gold, and at the center hung a pendant in the shape of a scallop shell. The pendant was carved from some kind of glittering stone, catching the bright sunlight as it turned this way and that on the chain. Six gold bits was barely a fair price for something like this; she highly doubted he initially planned to sell it for twelve, given the competent craftsmanship and simplistic design. Not that it mattered. Mella had no money.

Just as she began to put it down, mouth opening to sheepishly explain that she had no money, an arm reached past her to drop six bits on the counter.

“She’ll have it.”

Mella shivered as the husky female voice brushed against her senses. Whoever had spoken stood right behind her, reaching around her to pay the merchant. The merchant was thanking the mystery woman while simultaneously tucking the bits into a lockbox. The arm retracted partly, the slender-fingered hand resting on Mella’s bicep. Heat approached the side of her head, and the same voice whispered in her ear,

“Beautiful girls deserve beautiful things… And you are by far the most beautiful thing I’ve seen in my life.”

~

Jin was in full maiden-wooing mode, forgetting about her promise to buy Gallum some cider, forgetting that they needed to scrape together as much money as possible, forgetting that she needed to not get tangled up in whatever political machinations a woman like this one would undoubtedly be involved with. The woman was only a bit shorter than her, so the Bandit Queen could whisper in her ear without bending at all, and she was rewarded with a tiny shiver in response. Had she not been touching the woman’s arm, she never would have known she reacted at all.

The woman turned her head just enough to see Jin from the corner of her beautiful blue eye. The town was big enough to have a few lesser noble families residing there during the summer months; the redhead beauty was dressed in the fine clothes and jewels of a noble daughter. Maybe Jin would be getting lucky in more ways than one today.

“Excuse me, miss, but you’re in my personal space. Did no one teach you that it’s impolite to lay hands on a stranger?”

Jin relinquished her contact on the woman’s arm and took half a step back, nearly bumping into someone walking by. The redhead turned to look fully at her, lifting a hand to shade her eyes from the sun. White silk glove, long enough to tuck under the mid-forearm length of her dress sleeve, which was edged with lace. Oh yes, this woman was definitely a noble…

“Pardon me, miss. Didn’t mean to offend.”

The woman scoffed. “Perhaps, but offense was taken nonetheless. That being said… Perhaps we shall call it even, seeing as you’ve already purchased me a gift.”

Jin felt a grin spread over her lips. The woman’s words were delivered with a sharp voice, but the way she was avoiding eye contact belied how flustered she really was. She was not the first woman to react with polite hostility to the Bandit Queen’s advances; she would probably fall just as hard and easily as the others.

“Please, dear lady, allow me to make up for my indiscretion with another gesture. Let me to buy you a drink to quench your thirst. The sun is hot today, and a beauty like you should be kept cool in the shade.”

The woman seemed to consider the offer. Her lips parted slightly, and Jin’s gaze fell to them, admiring the shape of them… Imagining what it would be like to kiss them… To hear the desperate gasps and cries for mercy that the Bandit Queen would wring out while her own lips trailed down the soft curve of her neck and shoulder…

“There you are, my lady! You vanished while I was distracted.”

The sound of a man’s voice shattered the daydream filling Jin’s head. The redhead stepped quickly away, then around her to be greeted by a man with a handsome face and a suit of such bright white silk that he was blinding in the sunlight. This was a man who demanded attention with his very presence, and Jin hated him immediately.

~

I’m going to lose my mind, Mella thought to herself. The strange woman was so close, grinning at her as if she found the entire situation amusing. At first, Mella had been too sidetracked by her bold demeanor to notice anything else… But the sound of Freidrech’s voice cut through the fog in her mind. She stepped past the woman to intercept him, hoping to distract him from noticing how close a total stranger had been to her just seconds ago.

“Freidrech, it’s about time you stopped fussing over the lunch bill and joined me. I was beginning to think you’d gone and forgotten about me.”

Freidrech huffed and took her hand, lifting it to press his lips against the silk-gloved fingers. “Nonsense, my lady,” he said with a slight smile. “You leave too great an impression to ever be forgotten.”

His gaze slid past Mella’s face to look past her, and for a second, she worried that he would pick another pointless, petty fight with someone he saw as beneath him. But he did not. He released her hand, chin lifting and his arm offered out for her to hold onto.

“Come, my lady. We have an appointment to keep with Lord and Lady Volet. It would be a shame to disappoint them.”

She reached out, sliding a hand around his arm, and allowed herself to be pulled away from the market stall. She knew that looking back was a terrible idea--surely the stranger had taken the hint and moved on to the next pretty woman to flirt with.

Still, as Freidrech blathered on about how important it was to impress Lord Volet, Mella found herself glancing over her shoulder… And meeting the gaze of her approacher, just as dark and strange as the first glance, watching her intently as the distance between them grew. In her other hand, hastily tucked into the pocket of her dress, she clutched the scallop shell necklace tightly.

[scribeofskyrim]

Sundas, 19th of Heartsfire, 4E 201

We’re in Candlehearth Hall in Windhelm, and I wish I could say the city’s welcome was warmer than the weather.

I’d take the bone-cutting wind any day.

We left Fort Fellhammer and went down through the mountain pass. It’s more of a track than a road, but there are some spots with walls and cobbles that tell you you’re still going the right way.

We found a cave not too far along, but it certainly wasn’t the one we were looking for with the void salts! It was full of bandits and Falmer! We went in a little ways, then turned around and left. It felt like it was more trouble than it was worth at the moment. I just wanted to get here.

Along the way to the cave (actually called Shrouded Grove on the map) we fought a bunch of saber cats, bears, wolves, and even ice wraiths! We found a large shrine of Talos at a place Lydia said was called the Weynon Stones, too. I took the opportunity to get a blessing.

We stumbled into the Shrouded Grove sort of by accident. Spriggans came out of the trees and attacked us! They’re sort of pretty, in a creepy way? I don’t know, I just think they would be nice to look at if they weren’t trying to kill us and didn’t sound like they were full of angry bees. We fought them off, and figured that the cave right there must be it. We were right, and found a bear, a wolf, and a bigger, angrier spriggan inside.

On closer inspection it looked like the cave was actually a small, ancient tomb. There were a few dead bodies around, and the remains of a ruined sarcophagus and some stonework that was obviously carved by people. We found the void salts, along with a book and some gold before we left.

I was starting to freeze again, so I built a fire once we got out of there. I’m glad I always keep enough firewood on me to build one! The wind kept it from warming us very much, so we had to pitch the tent and huddle inside.

Poor Erandur. I’ve heard that Dunmer are resistant to fire, but get cold easily. I think he was bundled into his fur cloak more tightly than I was. Valdimar and Lydia were fine, and even offered their cloaks to us as an extra layer while we warmed up!

Nords.

Luckily, it didn’t take me long to feel my toes again, and we were able to keep going.

I swear, it felt like every wild animal for miles decided to come at us while we headed for Windhelm. There’s a lake on the way, that turns into a river. I couldn’t tell which way the path went along the shore, so I picked Right and we kept going.

Turns out, that was the wrong choice. We saw a few houses surrounding a mill across the water, but my luck, such as it is, held out and we spotted a shallow spot with some stones for a mostly dry crossing.

Since we were right there, I went to order some logs from the lady running the mill but before I even got up to her she started to yell at me. I learned her name was Aeri, and she thought Jarl Skald had sent me. He’s getting impatient about an order of logs. I told her I wasn’t there for him, but agreed to let him know that they were on their way when we went back. I did order some logs for me, though. No rush!

It was getting dark, so we started to hurry towards Windhelm. I could just see it through the blowing snow. There was a bridge up ahead, and we saw a pack of wolves attack and kill a group of adventurers on the other side.

We took care of the wolves and kept going, but Erandur and I were starting to freeze again. I was so tired. It felt like my boots were made of stone! Erandur asked us to step back, and was suddenly surrounded in an aura of fire, but it didn’t feel like magic.

Then, everything went dark, and I woke up back by the mill, to the sound of whispers and the dog whining.

We were on the ground, but I was mostly in Valdimar’s lap. He was holding me upright in one arm, and in the other he held a torch close for extra warmth. Lydia was next to me, pulling a warm mug of ale away from my lips, and the dog was on my other side, nudging at me with his nose. In front of me was Erandur, holding a glowing coal in the palm of his hand. The other he had over my heart, and his eyes were closed tightly while he whispered prayers. I was still groggy, and saw him switch hands with the coal. I had no idea what he was doing until I felt his almost-burning hand over my heart, and the heat radiating from it.

I came to my senses with a gasp, and asked what happened. Aeri leaned over (I hadn’t seen her before) and said my friends saved my life, that’s what!

Lydia had come bursting into her house in the middle of dinner and told her that I’d gone down. So, Aeri grabbed a skillet, scooped some coals from the fire, and ran out to me. She explained that bringing me into the house could heat me up too quickly, and actually do more harm than good.

At this point my hands and feet started to hurt as feeling came back to them, so Lydia handed me the mug to drink from and warm my hands. She took the torch from Valdimar and started yelling at me, saying not to scare them like that again, and was I mad for not dressing warmer, and and and… You know, normal Lydia. Valdimar just wrapped me in a big, warm bear hug while I sipped, and put his chin on my head. I could feel him shake a bit in silent laughter at her as she chided me. With the way she was waving the torch around and gesturing, she looked like the mad one! Erandur took off my boots to make sure I still had all my toes. He ran his hands through the hot coals in the skillet before he rubbed at my feet, going back and forth to keep the heat until everything stopped hurting.

I don’t think I’ll ever get the soot stains out of my socks, but it’s a small price to pay for working toes.

Aeri let Lydia rant for a little, then said I was lucky to have such good people around me. She looked at Lydia and mentioned that they were lucky, too. Lydia asked what she meant, and Aeri said, matter-of-factly, that they wouldn’t have saved me if I wasn’t worth it.

And that’s why she always keeps an old skillet by the fire, she said. Happens pretty often, even in the warmer months.

By this time I was warm again, and Erandur had gotten my boots back on and laced up for me. We thanked Aeri for her help, gave her back her skillet, and headed towards Windhelm.

Again.

As we got close to where I had fallen – I saw a big dent in the snow - I remembered what I’d last seen before I blacked out, and asked Erandur about it.

He explained that it was a Dunmer ability, something that all of his kind can do. The spell Flame Cloak is based on it. He was using it to warm himself up, and had planned to stand near me to offer some warmth, but he hadn’t realized how close I was to collapsing.

Valdimar laughed and said that poor Aeri nearly dropped her skillet when she stepped outside. She came out of her house to see Valdimar running up, carrying me, with “Hot Stuff” next to him, still on fire!

We had a good laugh at the nickname, and Erandur groaned and pulled his hood over his face. He was still next to me, though, and he was trying to look mad, but I could tell he was smiling – Maybe even blushing a little. When we were done teasing, the priest chuckled, and said there wasn’t much else he could do until we got there, anyway. “Might as well light the way, right?”

We were still laughing about it as we got into Windhelm, but our mood quickly changed.

Just as we passed through the main gate, we ran into some bigots shouting abuse and threats at a Dunmer woman in the street. They left as we got near. After I reassured her that I’m not like those skeever-faced goons – I’m sure it helped that Erandur was next to me - I asked if she was all right. Sadly, she’s used to it.

Her name is Suvaris Atheron, and she said that while the men say they think the Dunmer are Imperial spies, it’s really just the latest excuse they can come up with to be arseholes. They like to get drunk and go into the Gray Quarter, where the Dunmer in Windhelm live, and be a nuisance. She invited us to visit the Quarter for drinks sometime, then she bid us a better evening before she went on her way.

Part of me wants to give those men a talking to with my axe. The other part wants to let Erandur at them, but Valdimar and Lydia were looking awfully murderous, too.

Well, if they decide to take a little walk around town after we’re done with dinner here, I’m not gonna stop them.

But I’m ready to get some rest. The dog’s been glued to my side, and I’m glad for it. It’s chilly even indoors, here. I’ll see if I can get him to lay on my feet in the bed.

[bayesic-bitch]

I'm gonna refer to acoup's series on farming and also military logistics here.

1) Famine was already mentioned, but you don't need to have a famine to have a bad season. Just a poor yield will result in malnutrition that makes the household extremely susceptible to disease

2) If you have a bad enough season to need a loan, the landlord is almost certainly going make it impossible to pay back, which will likely result in having to sell one or more members of your household into slavery to pay the debt. Less of a concern in the medieval period, because the church's ban against usury means you won't be get the loan if you need it in the first place.

3) As a poor farmer, you probably don't own a plow or a team of draft animals. You'll have to rent that from the landlord or local magnate. He also probably owns the local mill, which means that you get "company town" dynamics -- the magnate controls both the access to money and the things you would want to spend money on, so they have effectively a full monopoly on nearly everything. As with company towns, this means it's very easy to fall into debt, and therefore debt slavery.

4) in the medieval period, many many farmers are serfs, which means they're nearly enslaved. They're not sold individually, but they're tied to the land, so they come with the land when it's sold. Landowners are allowed to beat and punish serfs for failing to meet their (inherented, not agreed to) obligations

5) Anything talking about "noblesse oblige", or how kind large landowners were, or how happy landlord's peasants were is likely written by a large landowner. Read this in the same way you read slaveowners writing about how good they were to their slaves, or how happy their slaves were, or how little their slaves actually had to work.

6) Taxation on is actually much higher in non-democratic societies, and very little of it goes to public goods. Tax collectors are likely to take a hefty cut of any money they can find. This makes it very difficult to save up money to get through a bad year -- any sizable sum will will taken by taxes or bandits.

Edit: Here I mean taxation on currency, not necessarily grain. Taxation/rents on grain are often lower overall, but a higher fraction of surplus (as much as the landlord can extract without causing starvation). The point is that saving up enough money to make it through a bad year or leave the manor is difficult or impossible.

7) Any time there's a war (read: very frequently before democracy and industrialization), armies come through. Premodern armies need to eat, and they generally don't have supply lines. Instead they spread out and pillage as much grain as they can from peasant villages as they go, killing those who resist. Large-scale burning, murder, and sexual violence are also very common when this happens. Even without those things, losing stored grain means malnutrition, or needing a loan from the landlord to recover, and we just talked about how that goes. In several periods of continuous warfare, such as the 30 years war, this happens so much that entire stretches of countryside can be fully depopulated, and armies are unable to reach each other because there's no food supply provided by expendable peasants to get them to the enemy.

HALT!✋😐

did you remember to express gratitude for not having to subsistence farm today?

[phantom-le6]

Film Review - Justice League: Warworld

Staying with DC animated home-release films, our on-going clear out of my film reviewing backlog heads back to DC’s Tomorrowverse now.  This time, we’re taking a look at the film Justice League: Warworld…

Plot (as adapted from Wikipedia):

In the Wild West town of Last Stand, a female gunslinger enters a standoff between the townsfolk, led by Bat Lash, and bandits led by Jonah Hex. Hex explains the town is populated by gold miners, ranch and farm owners who were supposed to pay "protection interest" to Hex and his men, but they took back and barricaded the bank that had their money. He asks for her help to bring order, but she sides with the townsfolk and saves a little girl from Hex's men and Lash from a wagon loaded with dynamite. Hex calls her a "Wonder" and the townsfolk call her an "Angel." When Bat Lash asks for her name, she cannot remember, and it feel strange to her. Later that night, while distracting Hex so the townsfolk can retrieve supplies, she learns that Hex’s men have hijacked a train to transport explosives and destroy the townsfolk’s fort. She derails the train as Lash evacuates the townsfolk, but Hex kills Lash. In a fit of rage, she beats Hex near death before silently leaving the town.

On Skartaris, the Warlord Travis Morgan takes a mercenary sent by his archenemy, the wizard Deimos, as a slave to work in the mines, but the mercenary offers to take Warlord and his army to Deimos's castle in exchange for freedom and gold. While traveling to the castle, the army is attacked by several monsters, and Warlord's best warriors fall along the way; Mariah Romanova is captured and Machiste is killed. The mercenary struggles with unfamiliar knowledge and memories and along the way sees a vision of an old man who recognizes him. In the castle, after evading several death traps, the mercenary finds a throne room full of treasure with Mariah and a slave woman shackled to the throne. The mercenary, the Warlord, Mariah and the slave woman (who finds a golden lasso) battle Deimos until he flees. The mercenary and slave woman realize they need to find their way home and leave via a portal.

In the 1950s town of Grovers Mill, federal agents Clark Kent and King Faraday investigate reports of a crashed UFO. They go to a diner to meet with state trooper Bruce Wayne, Diana Prince, and other witnesses. Kent, Wayne, and Prince hear eerie music which no one else can hear. All the diner’s patrons are revealed to be White Martians who pursue Kent, Wayne, and Prince to the crashed UFO. Inside, they find a Green Martian, who a hysterical Faraday insists they kill. After Kent subdues Faraday, the room transforms, and they realize that the world around them was an illusion except for them, Faraday, and the Martian, whom they deduce is a prisoner and free.

The Martian informs them that he is J’onn J’onzz, and he reveals to the three who they really are and that the four of them had been teleported via Zeta-beam teleporter to Warworld.  The planet is a giant weapon fed by the violence and fear of its prisoners, which J’onn has been forced to supply by projecting psychic illusions to the prisoners. He had also been attempting to lead them back to reality via telepathic messages. He informs them to leave immediately but Lobo subdues Kent, Wayne, and Prince and brings J’onn to Mongul, who has been searching through the multiverse and taking captives, and had hoped J’onn would have the key to harness Warworld’s planet-destroying power.

Seeking to take Warworld for himself, Lobo stalls Mongul as he is about to execute J’onn. Superman, Batman, and Wonder Woman recover their costumes and fight their way to Mongul’s throne room while J’onn possesses and merges with a White Martian, revealing that the two halves of the key were hidden between both Martian races. Possessing both halves, J’onn uses the key to activate Warworld’s self-destruct sequence. A mysterious woman rescues Superman, Batman, and Wonder Woman and teleports them back to safety at a nearby satellite just in time before Warworld explodes. She states that Warworld's destruction is nothing compared to the forthcoming Crisis.

Review:

While I like this film’s use of different scenarios based on some less well-known DC characters, it’s not really what I was expecting or wanting when I heard we were getting a Warworld film.  Having grown up learning about DC characters through the DC Animated Universe shows like Batman and Justice League, my original knowledge of Warworld was the Justice League episode where Superman and Martian Manhunter ended up on the planet, with Superman stuck in various gladiatorial bouts while J’onn tried to free him and the pair were being sought by Green Lantern John Stewart and Hawkgirl.  As such, I was hoping for something quite close to that on this film, maybe with some characters just altered or swapped out to make it a bit different and align with Tomorrowverse continuity.

With the various scenarios, we still get something of the combat and violence Warworld is known for, but I wasn’t keen on it being a bunch of psychic illusions, which actually didn’t make much sense when we see the “big three” break out of that illusion.  If it was all illusions, then the bodies of all the prisoners wouldn’t be moving around Warworld, and we should have seen the characters physically restrained upon their return to reality.  If it was a bunch of physical set-ups, why bother with the psychic illusions aspect?  Star Trek: Voyager had a two-part episode in its fourth season that put the crew into endless violent holodeck simulations for the benefit of the Hirogen, and they just used a bit of tech to make the crew think they were characters in those simulations.  As such, a bunch of simulator rooms with similar mind-tech on the prisoners would have worked equally well here.

Because of this, and a lack of better explanations as the film goes on, it’s a tough one to follow and reinforces my view that in recent years, film-makers have developed an annoyingly stupid phobia of exposition.  It’s only thanks to some off-hand dialogue from Wonder Woman that we realise she’s the Earth-2 Wonder Woman from Justice Society: World War 2 and not part of the Tomorrowverse’s Earth-1 like Superman and Batman.  On the plus side, Lobo coming back in is cool, and we get solid voice acting and great animation, though I’m not impressed with how physically unimposing Mongul is this time round.  Marvel fans who also appreciate DC will probably appreciate that there are a couple of MCU alumni among the voice cast, namely Brett Dalton from the Agents of SHIELD TV show voicing Bat Lash in the Wild West Wonder Woman segment of the film, while Frank Grillo (Crossbones) voices Agent King Faraday in the 1950’s alien thriller bit.

The film ending on a cliff-hanger for the upcoming trilogy Crisis on Multiple Earths, which I’ll be reviewing only once I have all three films, is also something I’m not too keen on.  I generally prefer films to end as complete stories and just leave the door open for a sequel, or to tease possible sequels in end-credit scenes.  In addition, the end-credit scene in Legion of Superheroes indicated other heroes had disappeared from Earth-1 prior to Bruce and Clark being abducted, so I was expecting some mention of these other heroes, efforts to save them and so on.  Overall, as interesting as the film is, I think it could have been handled better and still set up for the Crisis films being released over the course of 2024.  For me, it’s another just passable score of 6 out of 10.

[ankle-beez]

What exactly is Boxtown?

Boxtown is an upcoming adult indie animated mystery-comedy series! You can find out more info watching the video below and subscribing to the official YouTube channel!