#he truly wields the staff of justice

[proxissima]

Um.... SIR???

[thetrickster-blr-blog]

Red Hood / The Jokester (Earth 3)

Welcome to Earth 3, one of the craziest and darkest Earths in the multiverse. This is a world where those destined to be paragons of Justice & Honor instead devolved into symbols of Terror & Doom. But likewise, those destined to be symbols of Terror & Doom instead chose to be paragons of Justice & Honor. One such example is Gotham City's heroes. Their original hero was the Red Hood, a swashbuckling vigilante who brought much-needed justice and freedom to a city crushed under the oppressive fist of Owlman. Armed with a grapple hook/sword cane, razor-sharp playing cards, & his upbeat and jovial attitude, he patrolled the streets of Gotham, fighting evil wherever he saw it. No one ever knew who he truly was, but they never cared. All that mattered to the good citizens of Gotham was that he was there to help and protect them. Unfortunately, his career ended after Owlman figured out who he was. Wanting to rid himself of this perpetual thorn in his side and make a statement to all of Gotham, Owlman tracked Red Hood down to his home, murdered his pregnant wife, and then dragged him to the Ace Chemical plant. He then tied Red Hood up and beat him savagely while live-streaming the entire thing for all of Gotham to see. He then unmasked Red Hood before throwing him over the railing into one of the chemical vats. All of Gotham mourned the death of their guardian, feeling as though their hope died with him. Fortunately, their hopes wouldn't die for long. About a month later, a new hero appeared in Gotham going by the monicker of The Jokester. No one knew for certain who he was, but he vaguely reminded them of the Red Hood, though they certainly had their differences. Red Hood is a mysterious swashbuckling rogue out of a romance novel, whereas The Jokester is a manic trickster with a slightly twisted sense of humor. Red Hood also hid his face behind a mask while Jokester struts around with his face for all to see. The Jokester also wields more gadgets, all with his signature comedy theme; including his primary sidearm, his firework-shooting jester staff. He also seemed to have a specific vendetta against Owlman, openly targeting him and his supervillainous protege, Talon. If Red Hood was an annoyance to Owlman & Talon, then The Jokester was his arch-nemesis. After a few years of the two being caught in a never-ending game of Cat-and-Mouse with each other, Jokester went from a one-man act to a player on a global scale when he was offered a seat in the Legion of Justice, led by the superhero billionaire Alexander Luthor.

[mybeautifulchristianjourney]

Woe to Tyrants

1 Woe to those who enact unjust decrees and draft oppressive legislation 2 to deprive the impoverished of justice and rob my people’s poor of their rights, looting widows and preying on orphans! 3 What will you do on the day of punishment, when calamity comes from afar? To whom will you flee for help? Where will you leave your wealth, 4 so as not to squat among the prisoners or fall among the slain?

Even after all this, his anger remains, his upraised hand still threatens.

5 “Oh Ashur, the rod expressing my anger! The club in their hands is my fury! 6 I am sending him against a hypocritical nation, ordering him to march against a people who enrage me, to take the spoil and the plunder and trample them down like mud in the street. 7 That is not what Ashur intends, that is not what they think; rather, they mean to destroy, to cut down nation after nation. 8 For [their king] says, ‘Aren’t all my commanders kings? 9 Hasn’t Kalno [suffered] like Kark’mish, Hamat like Arpad, Shomron like Dammesek? 10 Just as my hand reached the kingdoms of non-gods, with more images than in Yerushalayim and Shomron; 11 so won’t I do to Yerushalayim and her non-gods what I did to Shomron and her idols?’”

12 Therefore when Adonai has done everything he intends to do to Mount Tziyon and Yerushalayim, “I will punish the king of Ashur for the boasting that comes from his proud heart and from reveling in his arrogant looks. 13 For he says,

“‘With my own strong arm I have done this, and with my wisdom, because I’m so clever! I erased the boundaries between peoples, I plundered their stores for the future; as a mighty man, I subjugated the inhabitants. 14 My hand found the riches of the peoples like a nest; and as one gathers abandoned eggs, I gathered the whole earth! Not one wing fluttered, not one beak opened or let out a chirp!’”

15 Should the axe glorify itself over the one who chops with it? Should the saw magnify itself over the one who moves it? It’s as if a stick could wave the hand that raises it up, or as if a wooden staff could lift [a person, who is] not made of wood. 16 Therefore the Lord, Adonai-Tzva’ot, will send leanness to his well-fed ones; and in place of his glory, a fire will be kindled that will burn and burn. 17 The light of Isra’el will become a fire and his Holy One a flame, burning and devouring his thorns and briars in a single day. 18 The glory of his forest and of his fertile land he will consume body and soul, like an invalid wasting away. 19 So few forest trees will remain that a child could list them.

20 On that day the remnant of Isra’el, those of the house of Ya‘akov who escaped, will no longer rely on the man who struck them down, but will truly rely on Adonai, the Holy One of Isra’el. 21 A remnant will return, the remnant of Ya‘akov, to the mighty God. 22 For, although your people, Isra’el, are like the sand of the sea, only a remnant of them will return. Destruction is decreed, overflowing with justice. 23 Adonai Elohim-Tzva’ot will bring about this decreed destruction throughout all the land.

24 Therefore Adonai Elohim-Tzva’ot says:

“My people living in Tziyon, don’t be afraid of Ashur, even when he strikes you with a stick and raises his staff against you, the way it was in Egypt. 25 For in but a little while, my fury will end; and my anger will have destroyed them.”

26 Adonai-Tzva’ot will wield a whip against them, as he did when striking Midyan at the Rock of ‘Orev; as his staff was over the sea, he will raise it, the way it was in Egypt.

27 On that day his burden will fall from your shoulders and his yoke from your neck; the yoke will be destroyed by your prosperity.

28 He has come to ‘Ayat and passed through Migron. He has stored his equipment at Mikhmas. 29 They have crossed the pass, then lodged at Geva. Ramah is shaking, Giv‘at-Sha’ul has fled. 30 Cry, shriek, Bat-Gallim! Listen, Layish! Poor ‘Anatot! 31 Madmenah is in flight, The people of Gevim take cover. 32 This very day he will stop at Nov; and he will shake his fist at the mountain of the daughter of Tziyon, at the hill of Yerushalayim. 33 See how Adonai Elohim-Tzva’ot lops off the branches with terrible violence! The ones standing highest are chopped down, the lofty are laid low. 34 He will hack down the forest underbrush with an axe, and the L’vanon in its splendor falls. — Isaiah 10 | Complete Jewish Bible (CJB) Complete Jewish Bible Copyright 1998 by David H. Stern. Published by Jewish New Testament Publications, Inc. All rights reserved. Cross References: Genesis 10:10; Exodus 5:14; Exodus 14:16; Numbers 11:1; Joshua 18:24-25; Joshua 21:18;  Judges 18:21; 1 Samuel 21:1; 2 Kings 18:33; 2 Kings 19:22-23; 2 Kings 19:25; 2 Kings 19:31; 2 Chronicles 14:11; Psalm 58:2; Psalm 78:31; Psalm 81:6; Psalm 94:6; Isaiah 2:8; Isaiah 5:4; Isaiah 5:15; Isaiah 5:25; Isaiah 7:3; Isaiah 10:5; Isaiah 10:30; Isaiah 14:6; Isaiah 21:17; Isaiah 28:22; Isaiah 32:19; Jeremiah 9:23; Jeremiah 22:7; Luke 19:44; Acts 2:23-24; Romans 9:20; Romans 9:27-28

[localplaguenurse]

What’s this about pants’ wife I hear

I may be sleep deprived and my language skills are deteriorating but I did not misread that

Spill 👁 👁

I've answered a few asks and even done some drawings of them (everything is tagged as #zheng xue and there's not a lot but too much to link atm) but I will talk more about the knife wife as I call them

Also this gets a little dark but I won't go into detail

They're 23-24 years old, originally from Liyue but they moved to Snezhnaya with their remaining family when they were eight, have been living there ever since

Their father was part of a gang but gave that life up when he met their mother. The two got married and had three children; twin sons and one daughter.

When Xue was eight and their brothers were twelve, some old "friends" of their father came to their home while he was away, murdered Xue's brothers, attacked them and their mother, and maimed their face.

They fled to Snezhnaya where their father opened the Silver Lily, a restaurant that specializes in Liyue and Snezhnaya cuisine.

Their mother passed a few years later, and their father became incredibly overprotective of them, practically suffocating them.

I've now mentioned Lisa The Painful twice but today but their relationship is similar to Brad and Buddy's relationship; Xue is full of rage and anger over what has happened to them, and their father will not let them out into the world unless he knows they can truly fend for themself, because the world only wants to take from them and hurt them.

They took over the restaurant when their dad died and have been running it ever since. They've also been tracking down the men that hurt them and picking them off one by one. They've even gone as far as posing as a Fatui officer at times to get to the more higher ranking of them.

They have a geo vision and would be a polearm user, though their specialty is knife wielding.

Met Pantalone because they forgot to flip the sign over to closed one night, and they weren't going to just turn away the richest man in Teyvat.

I also have headcanons for them meeting as children but I flip flop between if pants is from Liyue or Snezhnaya and yes that does actually matter but only to me.

They're very blunt, are polite enough to work customer service but will call customers idiots if they're being shitty to their staff. They're also very stubborn, competitive, and again very full of rage.

Despite that they have a very strong sense of justice, granted it's more like vigilante justice because they're murdering people but they do not want to kill randos on the street that have done nothing wrong.

Deathly allergic to shellfish

They are literally flat as a board and like to lounge around shirtless. People often mistake them as amab and Xue just doesn't bother to correct them. They find it endlessly amusing when people find out they're female, because, what, suddenly it's not okay for them to be shirtless?

I actually don't have too much about them and pants but just know that Xue likes to be a Bastard and pants lovingly puts up with it because it is actually kind of funny.

[worldofwardcraft]

Vengeance is mine.

November 13, 2023

Last March, evil autocrat Darth Trump told a crowd of adoring cultists, "I am your retribution." His audience of dimwits thought he was vowing retaliation against their fantasy villains — gay and trans folks, persons of color, teachers, the list goes on. But actually Trump was referring to those he imagines to be his own personal foes.

And although his 2016 campaign was a-brim with anger, insults, racism and misogyny, this time around he's actually promising to hurt people. Including Democrats, insufficiently loyal Republicans, protesters, immigrants, military officers, the legal system and the entire government.

Recently, reports have surfaced concerning something called Project 2025. Created by a partnership of right-wing Washington think tanks and organized by the Heritage Foundation, Project 2025 is a terrifying 900-page plan to (among other abominations) use the military to quash protests and stock the federal bureaucracy with thousands of reliably loyal MAGA "warriors."

Trump is especially focused on the Department of Justice. He's told advisers and friends privately that he wants it to investigate specific individuals who once were allies, but are now critics. These include (but are not limited to) former chief of staff John Kelly, former Attorney General William Barr, ex-attorney Ty Cobb, one-time national security adviser John Bolton and former Joint Chiefs chairman Mark Milley.

There are others on his list too, like Hillary Clinton and ex-FBI director James Comey. He's even talked of prosecuting officials currently at the FBI and Justice Department. In fact, last week he openly declared,

We will completely overhaul the DOJ to investigate every Marxist prosecutor in America for their illegal racist in the reverse enforcement.

Trump believes the criminal prosecutions currently facing him justify using the presidency to exact payback on anyone who has challenged or disparaged him. And he's often repeated his intent to appoint a special prosecutor to “go after” President Biden, who he views as the instigator of these prosecutions. Said Trump at a campaign stop in October, “This is third-world-country stuff, ‘arrest your opponent.’ And that means I can do that, too.”

So if you haven't yet figured out what's at stake in the next presidential election, here's journalist Alex Kingsbury of the New York Times to set you straight.

It is no exaggeration to say that Mr. Trump is running for the presidency on a platform of lawlessness, promising to wield the power of the state against his enemies — real or imagined.

Make no mistake. A second Trump presidency will truly take America to the Dark Side.

[felassan]

Thoughts on Dark Fortress #1

(This post is under a cut due to spoilers.)

NB, my thoughts on the first pages that came out in the preview are collected here [spoilers at link], so I won’t repeat myself.

Okay here we go :D I’ve posted up my fav panels but always want a space where I can burble at length.. (I’m late in posting this bc recently for the last few days I’ve been obsessing over politics in my country as it’s the run-up to election time.. I haven’t read anyone elses’ thoughts on it either so I could be behind on prevailing speculation or whats known or something) The preview pages ended at the panel when Aaron says “Vaea is right”, so that’s where I’m beginning.

I can’t put my finger on why but I really like the “don’t tell me I’ve had too much to drink” panel showing a Tevinter street. It’s a neat blend of “Tevinter is advanced relative to much of the rest of known Thedas, but also ominous, but also a place where people live and go about their lives, and also not going too heavy on the cyberpunk angle”. I dig the composition ‘leading’ the eye up the street and the consistency with the recently-seen DA4 materials that have red lighting in Tevinter buildings, similar building shapes etc. ig I’m pretty obsessed with the idea of the DA4 PC & party walking up streets like these.

I wonder how Aaron felt witnessing Tractus’ drunken scenes in the pub :(

Tractus’ attitude towards the barman here shows the influence and power Magisters wield in Tevinter, and the fear of them common among the mundane populace

digging the Tevinter-y motifs & design of the bartop, bar shelving etc. it feels like thought went into it

I’d watch a spinoff show or read a story where Marius and Ser Aaron have to team up in order to achieve something

Vaea is so badass and agile! I appreciate that the shot of her up high was tasteful and didn’t like, weirdly contort her body, have a weird leering angle or emphasize things in that way comic art often does for women at moments like these

so in Tevinter, lamps give off red light (seen in the bar scene). are the windowpanes themselves also red?

good thinking Vaea grabbing the staff. great sense of snappiness and motion in this panel. her landing reminds me of squirrels doing the superhero pose landing actually :) 

tfw you and a dog burst out of a wardrobe

Tractus recognizing Fenris, it seems - did they encounter each other when Tractus was young, or does he just know of him (distinctive markings and all that)? if the former, I have a feeling we might get a flashback scene to that time in a future issue

cutting to look at Francesca when Tractus talks about Fenris murdering his father is GENIUS. look at the sadness on her face here; “you murdered your father” is exactly what she’s been telling herself and struggling with all this time

nice to see staff-less magic in action

Tractus seems to have drawn power from the red orb set in his staff. he reaches out to it and it responds by glowing and the staff moving, but he wasn’t doing a Jedi ‘use my Jedi powers to make my thrown lightsaber [staff] return to my hand’, as you might expect, he was instead charging up and drawing magical energy/power from it [the orb], as seen by the red light in his hand in the next panel. this reinforces my earlier wonderings that the red orb is notable and that there’s some connection between it and his red eyes. later in the panel when he’s trying to cast on the floor his eyes seem lit up (altho it could just be lighting & dramatic effect)

I wonder if Fenris thinks of Anders and Justice when Tractus says “justice”. There was once a mage in Fenris’ life who was really focused on justice..

the combat scenes are beautifully drawn, thought out and colored

Fenris’ lines here are really metal, badass and impactful. I could hear Gideon Emery’s voice in my head as I read these bits - the word choice of “hounded” helps with that I think, it immediately recalls Fenris talking with anger about how Hadriana denied his meals and hounded his sleep. they nail how Fenris speaks, the pattern and words he tends to use, etc

PHASING POWERS in action!! this is very cool to see, this ability of his didn’t get touched on much at all in DA2 outside of combat or a few scenes

I enjoy the contrast between the red and blue glows

Fenris is understandably merciless 

“Perhaps if you had it carved into you” feels like foreshadowing for the ‘red wraith’

:( the reminder that the very thing Fenris struggles with feelings of hate and fear towards is carved into his skin for the rest of time and always will be

Vaea is brave to step in, standing up for what she believes is right and also re-centering focus on the critical mission at hand

;___; Autumn helping keep Tractus on the ground. she is such a good girl. she Help

“You’re lucky the mabari is here” - having Fenris in a dark light here relative to the rest of the panel is nicely symbolic

oh shit!! some plot advancement in terms of the ongoing story of the wider world. The Antaam have now reached Neromenian!! the invasion is progressing further and further into Tevinter. how far will it have come by the time of DA4? will there be an active war front not far from Minrathous? I appreciate the comics from this team a lot, here and there they push forward the ‘story of Thedas’ not just the story of the comic’s focus. also, I like that the Qunari soldiers here aren’t clones of one another but all look different. different hairstyles, sizes/bodies, clothes

love how our group work together, everyone has a strength and a role to play, the teamwork, the delegation, they’re like a DA basegame party or a D&D party

the way Fenris’ hand and arm glow in this sequence has been drawn/colored is smart - calling to mind the image of blue veins running through someone’s arm or below the skin on the backs of their hands

Fenris has surely picked up Fereldan sayings from Hawke.. stop .. my heart ;__;

the Fenris/Autumn exchange

this is so intense.. why do I get the feeling that Fenris has used this sort of torture technique before in his hunting and extermination of Danarius’ adult children campaign and/or his hunting of slavers as the BW with Shirallas campaign. it feels like he has done this sort of thing before in the time post-Kirkwall. I like that they didn’t hold back with a bit of gore here and there in this issue (phasing a hand and then solidifying it inside someone’s body, the Qunari attack portion in the street etc), while at the same time not being excessive with it.

this miniseries so far has good pacing, things moving along nicely and not being too slow or meandering

it’s smart having Tractus’ explanation of how to get in stay off-screen to the reader while we follow Francesca calling the alarm. It means we get to find out as we watch them infiltrate

omg those puncture wounds from his talons

when Fenris is about to kill Tractus after he tells him what he wanted to know, I’m strongly reminded of how he promised to let Hadriana go then killed her anyway, regardless of player choice. he has his ruthless streak and it feels like a callback. and before, when he was standing over Tractus when he was on the floor, echoes that scene in A Bitter Pill when he stands over Hadriana on the ground, who also reached for her staff

Tractus pale with bloodloss and fear

lmao @ Fran and Autumn’s faces when they walk in on this scene

Fenris listening to Vaea is nicely consistent with his character too imo - there are times in DA2 when Hawke can be like “Fenris no don’t do the Thing” and he doesn’t do the Thing

I have missed the way Fenris’ nose bridge crinkles when he’s angry

I wonder what the consequences of leaving Tractus alive will be. [tv announcer voice] FIND OUT NEXT TIME ON DARK FORTRESS

so the ritual will only take minutes to complete huh 👀

wow Neromenian has truly fallen, reeducation of the people of Tevinter continues as in Three Trees to Midnight in TN

explaining that they are speaking in Qunlat is a nice immersive touch and shows attention to detail of the lore of the world

bobbly-shoulders Qunari, Legolas hair Qunari, septum piercing Qunari, bobbly-brow Qunari, undercut Qunari. I wonder if the shoulder and brow protrusions are aspects we’ll see in the Qunaris’ latest design in DA4?

poor Tractus can’t catch a break lol. it has Not been Tractus’ day

Karasten: an infantry field commander

bit of Tevinter lampshading, lil fourth wall break with “This land and its obsession with magic. There is always a forbidden ritual with them” hhhhhh

Ringwraith on a horse moment at the end there

strong ending, can’t wait for next month weww.. 👀

[ihassheepquake]

Is starman Courtney’s dad? It’s neither confirmed or denied and evidence suggests that he’s not. My theory is that Barbra isn’t Courtney’s bio mom and Starmans sister is. It makes her still related to Starman so she can wield the staff. Can you confirm or deny any of this?

Talking purely in terms of the show, I'm only about 95% sure that Starman isnt her dad, and that 5% is only really because the few times we get to see the photo Courtney has of her dad in that locket, he does kinda look like Joel McHale (who plays Starman) but we also havent really gotten a good look at it. From me as a writer, I'd prefer if he wasn't. Stargirl is really the first of these modern hero shows to really tackle legacy as the big deal it is in comics (Supergirl kinda does it a little but nowhere near as well as Stargirl has), and that gives them some interesting things they can do with the concept, and I think it says more about the topic and Courtney as a character if she isn't at all related to Starman. She chose that legacy.

In terms of comics, I will readily admit to not knowing much about any of these characters. Rick, Beth, & Yolanda I only know about from some goggle searches and YouTube videos about their history. And Pat & Court I know through those same ways and their appearances in Justice League Unlimited & Legends of Tomorrow. I do know that in comics Courtney's dad is Sam Kurtis, not Starman, and Sam Kurtis is a real piece of trash. A truly horrible man.

To really learn more about the Starsquad's history, especially Courtney & her drama with Sam Kurtis, I recommend the blog @whitmore who has been largely my own source of comic knowledge. Trust me, she always has things to say about these kids.

[siremasterlawrence]

The Knights Of Lawrence Table.

King Arthur Part 1

I am now in jail after escaping to Sherwood Forest for steeling from the King.

I wake up with the rays of sunlight showering over me.

The man of the hours walks in his shadow long by the length of the room.

I lay in bed eyes glued to the ceiling counting the towels.

“Sit up.” A strong masculine voice commands me to respond.

“Sorry...I don’t answer would be kings.” I say to him.

Part 2

He grits his teeth in annoyance at my slyly hit disrespect.

“I am your King.” He calmly says to me with a tone to his voice.

“You are not my king.” I finally say while sitting up.

The door to the cell open up as expected right on time.

“I need your help.” The King shyly says to me sending the guard’s off.

“So much for kingly.” I throw a snide remark his way.

Part 3

If you were wondering I manipulated the would be king.

He sits on his thrown confuse at why he needs my help.

“What happened to Merlin?” He questions me.

His attention was fully on me as I pursue my lips.

“You don’t know?” I shove the question right back at him.

“Answer me.” He shouts letting his voice book ricocheting around the room.

Part 4

I stand tall laughing at the mighty King Arthur.

“You killed him.” I proudly say waving my hand in a circle.

It creates a mirror like image of the night that proceeded them.

“What trickery is this?” He demands to know.

I take his seat on throne just as he stands in a transfixed moment.

“But why?” He turns to me not even caring I was in his seat.

Part 5

The room fades in the darkness erasing the days events.

He fixes himself the next morning like nothing else happen.

The entire staff of the castle runs in fear of him.

He is shock, a loss words as he enters his former throne room.

“Seize him.” A strange voice yells, he was unable to see who it was.

The two men knock him unconscious dragging his body out.

Part 6

Hours later I enter the same jail he found me in.

I say this poetic justice for him, but the story is just beginning.

I walk in to get hidden chamber in which he is held.

No food, no water, and no wine all in a attempt to break him.

“Can you head me?” My voice fell flat asking the question.

He was glued to the wall melding his mind to my will.

Part 7

“Arthur wake up.” I calmly whisper to him as he did.

Just like that he stood helpless at the events I lay before him.

He stands hands on his hips in the last crying bits of rage.

Feels moments of defiance melt away like hot pan of butter.

“So much better to submit.” I inform him in a bit of play.

“You win.” Arthur falls to the ground a failure and defeated man.

Part 8

I flick my wrist letting my power surround me in a bright glow.

My body is now adorn with the traditional arm of his country.

I was deck in royal clothes, jewelry an worship by all.

“My king.” Arthur says kneeling at my feet once again.

“You are free to go.” I transport the sword in the stone.

“Wield Excalibur in my name.” I command handing it to him.

Part 9

“To my bed chamber.” I say walk out to find two guards.

They stand a side looking at us both with reverence.

“As you wish.” Arthur utters then stays silent.

The door closes behind us my body forcing his to the door.

“You will bring carnal pleasure to me.” I say kissing me.

“Yes my King.” He replies a smile creeping on his face.

Part 10

Arthur’s is initiated as the first night at the table of Lawrence.

He stood proudly with Excalibur in hand it was sight.

The Royal Painter carefully crafts a portrait for us.

I watch this artisan at work it was a sight to behold.

Truly magnificent though my attentions soon turn elsewhere.

The table is so magnificently glowing with my power.

The end.

[foreverlogical]

Donald Trump came to the presidency a complete novice to government and often found his corrupt, authoritarian impulses frustrated by its bureaucracy. But he is slowly learning how to control the machine that has stymied him. This is the story of 2019, as Trump has replaced institutionalists attempting to curtail his grossest instincts with loyalists happy to indulge them. It is playing out across multiple dimensions. This is the through-line between several seemingly disconnected episodes from the last several days.

The pattern played out in its most absurd form via Trump’s manic insistence on justifying his inaccurate warning that Alabama “likely be hit (much) harder than anticipated” from Hurricane Dorian, at a time when the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration was forecasting the state faced no risk. At first, Trump attempted to justify his lie by brandishing a chart he crudely doctored.

More ominously, on Friday, the NOAA issued an official statement backing up Trump’s original false claim. And the Washington Post reported the agency had instructed its staff not to contradict Trump’s claims. “This is the first time I’ve felt pressure from above to not say what truly is the forecast,” an NOAA meteorologist told the Post. “It’s hard for me to wrap my head around. One of the things we train on is to dispel inaccurate rumors and ultimately that is what was occurring.”

The controversy might appear absurd and contentless. But Trump views the stakes as high, not without reason. Among his supporters, Trump has created a cultlike devotion to his competence and honesty, both of which are threatened by acknowledging his falsehood about the hurricane.

Also on Friday, the Wall Street Journal reported the Department of Justice is launching an antitrust investigation of automakers who had agreed with California to raise their emissions standards. Trump is driven by a desire to overturn an Obama-era rule increasing mileage standards out of an obsession with destroying his predecessor’s legacy and an automatic rejection of any policy to limit climate change. Trump took the agreement as a personal affront, raging publicly at the automakers for dealing with California and undercutting his leverage to loosen emissions standards.

The antitrust investigation is a preposterous abuse. The automakers are not conspiring to fix prices. They are negotiating pollution regulations with a state that is legally entitled to set its own air-pollution rules. But the threat of retribution has already dissuaded automakers from dealing with California. “One person with direct knowledge of negotiations said that Daimler AG’s Mercedes-Benz had indicated an interest in joining, but later abstained due to fears of political fallout,” reports the Journal. The New York Times notes that other auto firms steered clear of dealing with California because they “fear retribution from an unpredictable administration.”

It is not new for firms to tiptoe around a temperamental president. What’s novel is the Department of Justice being used as Trump’s legal muscle. The threat of a nasty tweet is now bolstered with the threat of massively expensive litigation.

Also on Friday, the Washington Post editorial page reported an explosive new development in Trump’s Ukraine scandal. The president has sent Rudy Giuliani to Ukraine to pressure its government to supply evidence of misconduct by Joe Biden – even though there isn’t any sign Biden has done anything wrong. Here is another field where, by conscripting foreign countries to rough up domestic political rivals, Trump has broken new ground.

But Trump is not relying solely on Giuliani’s efforts at persuasion. Trump has refused to allow Ukraine’s president a White House visit, and suspended $250 million in military aid, to pressure its government into complying. To be sure, weakening Ukraine’s military dovetails neatly with Trump’s pro-Russian stance. But the Post reports that Trump is using the aid, which enjoys bipartisan support, as an extortion device.

Finally, the New York Times supplied more details on the ongoing scandal of Trump profiting from his office. During the presidential campaign, Trump waved away concerns about the unprecedented conflicts of interest that would arise from him running a business at the same time he wields enormous power. Republicans in Congress have evinced no concern whatsoever about Trump’s corruption, refusing to take even modest steps like compelling the release of his tax returns.

Increasingly, Republicans are dispensing with the fig leaf and flaunting their complicity. Putting money in Trump’s pocket by booking his properties has become a symbol of partisan solidarity. It is a signal of support both to the president and to fellow Republicans or business clients that you are on the ins with the boss. “President Trump has really been on the side of the Evangelicals and we want to do everything we can to make him successful,” one Evangelical leader tells the Times. “And if that means having dinner or staying in his hotel, we are going to do so.” Aggressive lack of curiosity has given way to open boasting of the quid pro quo arrangement.

None of these stories by itself has the singular drama of a Teapot Dome or a Watergate. Indeed, the mere fact that there is so much corruption prevents any single episode from capturing the imagination of the media and the public. But it is the totality of dynamic that matters. A corrupt miasma has slowly enveloped Washington. For generations, both parties generally upheld an assumption that the government would abide rules and norms dividing its proper functioning from the president’s personal and political interests.

The norm of bureaucratic professionalism and fairness is a pillar of the political legitimacy and economic strength of the American system, the thing that separates countries like the U.S. from countries like Russia. The decay of that culture is difficult to quantify, but the signs are everywhere. Trump’s stench is slowly seeping into every corner of government.

VISIT WEBSITE

[iorine]

Would the screams ever stop?

She still heard them ringing through her ears, clear as the stars in the night sky above her. Screams for help, screams for mercy. Cries. Shouts. Begging. Pleading. Where is my daughter, where is my brother, where is my wife.

Where is Elune?

Where was Elune?

It was a question many had asked that day, and the days following. It was a question that still plagued Iorine as she sat perched in the boughs of a large tree overlooking a beaten path. The hooded Kaldorei sat with both legs stretched out and crossed at the ankle, her back leaning against the thick tree trunk behind her. A hood is pulled over her head, obscuring her features even with her face tilted up toward the sky. Gone were the days of her long, verdant robes and crescent moon headdress; her old flower-covered staff broken but hidden somewhere for safe keeping. The Druid now lurked in the shadows in dark leathers, her pallid flesh all but covered and protected save for her long ears. Ears that had once been pink were now a pale lavender, almost gray in certain lights. Her hands were closed around a much more violent staff, a wooden shaft with a spiked head.

The forest was nearly silent, with only the faintest rustling of leaves in the gentle night breeze. It wasn’t enough to distract the Druid, not when she had a reason for being out here. However, it was enough to distract her from the screaming. To, if but for a moment, allow her to forget the deaths of the past and be reminded of the life still existing around her. Barely, at least. She could think of life, and of happier times. Of small children laughing and playing, of sentinels training, of Druids gathering, of craftsmen working and selling their wares. Visitors from other parts of Azeroth coming to take in the wonders of Teldrassil. Thinking of the past still caused an ache in her chest, a throbbing sorrow that would likely never truly heal. She had seen too many of their homes taken from them. This had been senseless. This had been unprovoked. Soon those happy children were engulfed in flame and begging for help, their tiny hands reaching out to her. Sabers were trapped among fallen burning branches. Men, women, all trapped in their homes. Her chest heaved and her shoulders shook, and Iorine’s hands tightened around her staff. No more.

No more.

Never again.

Vengeance would not bring any of them back, it would not undo the pain and misery that had been inflicted upon them; revenge would not fix Teldrassil. However, justice would still be served.

An owl’s hoot pulls Iorine from her sorrowful reverie, and darkened eyes open to first stare up toward the branches above her before her head turns to shift her attention downward. She could hear the thuds of heavy feet on the ground, the clanking of armor and the whispers of beings. 

It was time.

Iorine rose to stand on the heavy branch, reaching back once upright to strap the staff to her back, before she took a step forward to drop down from the tree. She handed quietly, bending enough at the knee to not harm herself, before she began to walk up the path in the direction of the oncoming caravan. In the trees above her and the bushes at either side of her she could hear the others; a sentinel in the trees, leaping from branch to branch; a Druid in the sky, an owl swooping inconspicuously above the unsuspecting caravan of Horde set to deliver supplies to some encampment somewhere; and two Druids of the Claw already lumbering parallel to the beaten path as ferocious bears waiting to pounce. Iorine herself continued straight down the path, seemingly no change to her form yet to be seen. She continues to walk even as the first Sin’dorei sees her.

“Halt!” He shouts, drawing his bowstring back with an arrow nocked and ready. Iorine continued to walk at a slow, steady pace. “I said HALT! Walk no further or we’ll kill you!” He shouts again, and as he does his companions begin to prepare their own weapons. A troll, with a large axe in each hand. Two Orcs, one with a club and the other with a massive two-handed blade. Finally a Tauren stood by the Kodo, his hands holding its reins to keep it steady; he drew no weapon, and his fear was palpable. Behind them the Kodo laden with supplies stops, grunting unhappily and shifting its weight from foot to foot. However, as Iorine continued to walk an arrow came flying toward her face, one that just barely touches her. It catches the cloth of her hood, forcing it back away from her face with enough force to choke a normal person. Long hair that had been rolled up and tucked into the hood fell in a curtain around her head, hanging down past her hips, wild and untamed. Her pale face was revealed to the group, the shadows of the blackened moon doing little to obscure it any longer. No longer did her eyes gleam with starlight, but instead were as black and full of hatred as the fury of Elune looming over Darkshore. They stared straight ahead toward the group, unfaltering and without fear.

Finally, Iorine stopped. Her chin raised, and she spoke aloud, “we go where we please, invaders. These are Kaldorei lands, and none of you belong here. Turn back now and we may decide to show you mercy this night.” She stood firm, her posture tall and seemingly relaxed.

One of the Orcs gave a snort and rolled his eyes. “It’s just one measly elf! She talks tough,” he began as he pushed past the others and charged forward, his large blade rearing back ready to strike. “But she won’t be talking when we’re--” He’s cut off with a roaring shout as an arrow embedded itself into his exposed thigh, one shot from the bow of the hidden sentinel in the trees. The Sin’dorei turned his attention to them and quickly reached for his quiver, nocking another arrow and looking up where the arrow had come from. It all happened so fast then. Two massive bears, each bearing the crescent of the moon on their shoulders, leaped out from either side and landed upon the Troll and the club-wielding Orc. They screamed, shouting with rage and fear as they tried to retaliate against the creatures. Iorine stood her ground as the assault began, her darkened eyes locked on the Orc’s rage-filled gaze. He turned to her, shouting with fury as he reached down to wrench the arrow from his leg and snap its shaft in his hand, throwing it aside after his little display. He charged forward, this time unimpeded. It was Iorine herself who would take this one, as the sentinel and the Sin’dorei exchanged shots. Her eyes closed and her hands finally raised to her sides, palms up toward the night sky, and her form shifted. It was as if she had called the heavens down upon herself, with her body becoming almost translucent and small shimmering stars falling around her, as if Iorine herself were made of starlight. It did make the Orc give pause, and though he did not stop completely his charge did begin to hesitate. Iorine’s eyes then snapped open, the darkness replaced with pure white light. Her hands raised higher, reaching for the sky and tightening into fists. As they closed a beam of light came down from above, slamming down upon the Orc charging at her and pummelling him harder and hotter with the fury and hatred of the moon until he fell to a knee before her. He grunted, panted, struggling for breath and trying desperately to get off the ground. Iorine finally frowned, her gaze lidded and her upper lip twitching at the sight before her. Ahead of her she could hear the roars of the bears, the dying screams of the Troll and the other Orc, the call of the distressed Kodo and the pleas from the Tauren trying to calm it down. The Sin’dorei laid on the ground, blood pooling around him from a wound created by an arrow through his throat.

“You talk tough,” she says coldly, “but you are afraid, aren’t you.” It was spoken less as a question and more as an observation, as Iorine’s hands came up to waist level. One by one her fingers curled in toward her palms. “Have you ever heard the screams of dying innocents, soldier? Truly heard them?” Vines began to slither from the bushes around them, finding the Orc’s ankles and climbing up his legs. He struggled too late, and he lost his grip on his sword as he instead tried to rip the persistent vines off his body. “Do you enjoy killing? Do you enjoy war? Does the heat of battle and the spray of blood excite you? Do you like seeing others afraid?” His eyes were wide, and the Orc found he couldn’t answer as he writhed and twisted against the vines curling around his body. They pinned his arms to his sides, and as he lost the support of his legs he was sent to the ground to lie on his side as the vines continued up his body. “That ends tonight. Because tonight, it is you who will know fear.” The vines finally closed around the Orc’s head as he began to plead to the Kaldorei, muffling his cries as the ground rumbled underneath him and he was slowly dragged beneath it. Iorine watched impassively, her hands turning to push her palms downward as if pushing him down herself. Her body moved with it, bending down lower and lower until the screams were silenced and the ground stopped moving.

Only one remained. The Tauren who had never raised arms against them, whose only focus had been trying to calm the Kodo. The sentinel dropped from the tree and the owl landed on a nearby stump, dropping his form to sit squatting upon it, his arms propped lazily on his thighs. It was five Kaldorei versus the one Tauren. He was shaking, holding the reins tightly like a lifeline keeping him there. Iorine continued forward again, walking at a steady pace toward the Tauren and the Kodo.

“W-WAIT! WAIT!” The Tauren pleaded, now to the Druid instead of the creature. “Take him! Take him! He has food! Water! Weapons! Medical supplies! He’s yours! Please! I--I don’t want to be here! I never wanted a part of this! I just wish to go home!”

Iorine stopped, her head tilting to one side as she observed the frightened Tauren. She said nothing. The Tauren swallowed hard and threw his hands forward, holding the reins in offering. “I know nothing I say. Or do. Can fix what our Warchief did. But. Not everyone agrees with it. Okay? I--I am one of them. I promise. We’re just taking--”

“Orders,” Iorine cut in, her voice a hiss. “Just following orders. Have you no free will? Have you no minds to yourselves? If you truly disagreed, where were you stopping this from happening?”

“It’s not that simple--”

“Oh, but it is that simple. Words mean nothing, Tauren. Not to us. When Sylvanas gave the order to burn us, if you didn’t agree you should have laid down your arms in defiance! It is that simple! It just takes ONE. SOLID. ACT.” Her hands tightened at her sides, and a glow began to emanate from them. “Where were those who disagreed when they slaughtered our people? When they stole these lands! When they started a pointless war?! When they BURNED. OUR. INNOCENTS. ANIMALS. MEN. WOMEN. THE CHILDREN?” Her voice boomed like thunder, and it echoed in the silence of the forest. The Tauren began to sob, his body shaking as he lowered himself down to his knees and then prostrated himself before the Kaldorei before him.

“I was not there! I was still behind! There are still those who want no part of this! I swear to you! I--I’ll go back! I’ll rally them! I’ll get them to start showing their disagreement! I’ll find those who don’t want any of this and we’ll defy orders! I promise! I swear it!”

Silence filled the air around the Kaldorei and the Tauren. The bears snarled, looking to Iorine. The Sentinel drew back her bowstring, an arrow aimed toward the Tauren as she waited. The other Druid simply waited.

In Iorine’s head all she heard was the roaring of flames. The creaking of wood as trees and branches broke under the heat of fire. The screams. So many cries for help. She could still smell the smoke.

The silence was palpable, but everyone merely waited for Iorine to speak. Eventually she reached down to take the reins, holding them out to her side. One of the bears shifted from bear to man, and he took the reins in his hand to gently coax the Kodo to him. Iorine’s gaze never left the Tauren. “I will give you this final chance, but do not squander it. I cannot promise others will be so merciful.” The Tauren nodded his head, his body shaking with fear and sobs. “But if I ever see you supporting this war again, there will be no further kindness your way. Go.”

He scrambled to his feet, bowing again for the group of Kaldorei before he took off running. His stomping hooves could be heard fleeing into the forest, where none of the Kaldorei followed. They instead turned to the Kodo, assuring it of its safety until they could begin guiding it away.

Her form faded back to normalcy, and Iorine’s shoulders sagged as she sighed and closed her eyes. “We should get these supplies to safety,” Iorine said with a hoarseness to her voice as she turned away from the others. There was no objection as they got moving, leaving the beaten path to guide the Kodo back to the other Kaldorei at camp.

She was so tired. But she had to press on. For them.

So that one day the screaming would stop...

[circe-poetica]

Asteroid Manwë 385446

Helios on Manwë– Have you ever watched a truly great Superhero movie (*cough* Thor: Ragnarok or Civil War *cough*) and come out of it pumped up, feeling like you could take on the world, just like them? All that was stopping you was not having a great spandex costume that leaves nothing to the imagination? Well, that and not having any superpowers or anything…. Well, the thing is, we could all be heroes! Let’s look to this week’s Transneptunian to show us how!

The Astronomy– 385446 Manwë is a binary resonant Kuiper belt object in a 4:7 mean-motion resonance with Neptune. It was discovered on 25 August 2003 in northern Chile. It has an orbital period of 287.70 years (105,081 days) and an eccentricity of 0.1114. Its perihelion is 38.599 AU and aphelion 48.671 AU. Manwë has one known satellite, Thorondor. It is estimated to be about half the size of the primary, 33–53 km vs. 58–92 km. Manwë has significant and irregular photometric variability, demonstrating that its components are not tidally locked. The surfaces of Manwë and Thorondor appear to be very red. The composition of Manwë is unknown but likely to be mostly ice because the nominal density (with large uncertainty) is less than that of water.

Manwë and Thorondor are predicted to be going through a period of mutual occultations and transits from 2014–2018, where one object crosses in front of the other as seen from Earth. Pluto and Charon went through a similar series of mutual events from 1985–1990. Observations of these events will allow for better estimates of the radii of the two objects and their densities, as well as possibly determining their shapes and mapping surface color and albedo features.

The Myth– Manwë is a fictional character in J. R. R. Tolkien’s The Silmarillion. Manwë was the King of the Valar, husband of Varda Elentári, was conceived in the thought of Iluvatar as a brother of Melkor, and King of Arda. He lived atop Mount Taniquetil, the highest mountain in the world, in the halls of Ilmarin, in the realm of Valinor. The winds, airs, and birds were his servants, and he was lord of air, wind, and clouds in Arda. He was the noblest and greatest in authority of the Valar, and less powerful only than Melkor.

Manwë was (with his brother Melkor, i.e. Morgoth) the greatest of the Ainur, and the one that best understood the will of Eru. When Melkor created the discord in the Music of the Ainur, Manwë took over leading the song. When Arda was formed, Manwë was appointed Ruler of Arda, hence his most common title, the Elder King. Manwë was a kind, compassionate ruler, unconcerned with his own power, but he did not understand evil, even in the form of his own brother. He released Melkor from Mandos, thus allowing him to cause the distrust of Fëanor, the Poisoning of the Two Trees, the murder of Finwë, the theft of the Silmarils, and the revolt of the Noldor. To hearten the Eldar, he had Aulë fashion the vessels to hold Sun and the Moon, for he knew the rising of the Atani was coming and sent Thorondor and the Eagles to watch them. After Morgoth’s fall at the end of the War of Wrath, Manwë cast him into the void. In the Final Battle, when Morgoth and his most powerful ally, Sauron, escape, it is said that the Elder King and the two Dark Lords will battle on the Plains of Valinor, but that they will not slay each other, as Morgoth is destined to die at the hands of Túrin Turambar. Manwë appeared dressed in long blue robes, with blue eyes. He wielded a powerful staff coated in sapphire made for him by the Noldor. The Vanyar were his favorite Elves, and they lived with him and Varda on Mount Taniquetil.

Manwë means Blessed One, from “mān” meaning “good, blessed or unmarred”. Súlimo means Lord of the Winds from ‘sûl’ – ‘wind’. His titles include Elder King, High King of Arda, King of Arda, Lord of the Breath of Arda and Lord of the West. He was first mentioned in The Silmarillion on page 20 at the top of the sentence, ‘But of the airs and winds Manwë most pondered…’

Why He Matters– Well, there is a lot of weirdness with this one, as befits a lengthy lore dump from Tolkein- You’re forgiven if you skipped down to this section. To be honest, it’s been years since I read the Silmarillion, but I don’t know anyone else who bothered to read it, so let’s dive in, shall we?

Though his story might give you a sense of a nerd, Manwë is actually a goddamned heroic badass. The whole point of him in the chart seems to be “A call to action”- where ordinary people are pushed into a situation that they need to step up and achieve some really amazing things. The drive to help others is strong with this guy, and Manwë is prominent in the charts of first responders that I checked- with almost all having a Mars-Manwë contact. Manwë is where we become great, where we become Heroes.

I would expect to see him most powerful in transit, when we are confronted with horrible situations that we need to overcome. There may be a connection to creative expression and performers as well (specifically singers), but I would need to do more research.

As I said above, Manwë is currently making a series of occultations with his binary partner, Thorondor. This gives him added importance, and it highlights a trend we are experiencing- We are currently in the golden age of Superheroes in media; Black Panther, Infinity War, hell, even the convoluted ArrowVerse and the Justice League movies. We cannot get enough of our heroes right now, and I would say that comes down, at least in some part, to Manwë and Thorondor. The occultations line up with Thor: The Dark World-Infinity War (The Infinity Stone storyline) and The Flash run in the Arrowverse. Manwë is using our superheroes to show us the best possible versions of ourselves and what we could be- and it’s important to realize all of the heroes we have right now are incredibly flawed, and oh so Human. You can rewrite your story at any time, no matter what you have done- You can come back from the brink and be redeemed; That is the promise of Manwë, who seeks to redeem his brother at all costs and return to idyllic peace. Yes, it is a bit naive, but honestly, I’ll bet it gives Morgoth pause once in a while, knowing his brother still believes in him and wants him to come home. The sad thing is, Morgoth will never do that, because it takes the most humility in the world to swallow your pride and beg those you have wronged for forgiveness. But that’s a story for another time….

To find out where he shows up in your chart, go to astro.com, put in your birth details and in the extended options, all the way at the bottom of the next page, there will be a menu of additional objects. Under that is a blank space where you can enter the number 385446 Once you have it entered, generate the chart! Where does Manwë affect your life?http://hereticaloracles.com/2018/04/19/tno-watch-manwe/

[lightshielded]

verse / odyssey + dark star 

— from the heavily urbanised coreworlds to the outermost edge of the galaxy, adventure awaits! the great demaxian empire has laid claim to almost every inhabited system, ignoring the objections of the ancient templar order and the criminal syndicate alike, in pursuit of the wondrous bounty of ora. this mysterious golden essence—drawn from the vast, majestic creatures that patrol the stars—is the lifeblood of all civilisation, but also promises untold power to those who can wield it for themselves…

              born on the demaxian empire’s locus armada ( the seat of the demaxian empire after the empire’s home - world was destroyed long ago ) like his father and grand - father before him, jarvan iv has never had a ‘ home - world ’ to speak of, though if you were to ask him he would simply respond with ‘ demaxia is my home ’. as a result of his upbringing, his adolescent years were saturated with exposure to the vast forces under the empire’s control, the pinnacle of the empire’s technological prowess, and the strict law and authority which the empire demanded—and he was not exempt from.

for the majority of his youth, jarvan iv’s days were consumed by study of the various species and worlds which made up the empire, the intricacies of imperial politics, interplanetary trade and commerce, and, of course, combat tactics and weaponry. strict tutors and merciless weapon - masters coupled with a strong instillment of justice and idealism, the prince was efficiently shaped into the perfect candidate for the emperor’s successor by his eighteenth summer. 

it was during this time that the young emperor - to - be met an ordinal in - training named shieda kayn. the ordinals were an elite force of soldiers who served directly under the emperor’s command, each one’s tactical and combat skills easily the match of forces many times their number. so to see someone so young training in their ranks, and advancing so quickly, was wholly unusual. and, what begun as curiosity of the ordinals slowly shifted into curiosity for the new recruit.

and curiosity lead to conversation and conversation lead to friendship. an accumulation of their closeness in age ( and lack of any others near it ) and their time spent training together cemented the pair as dear friends. a fact deeply important for the crown - prince who had grown up surrounded by almost only elder soldiers and staff of the armada prior to their meeting. this bond carried through their training and to both of their succeeded positions, as emperor and ordinal, and beyond.

when jarvan took the crown of demaxia, kayn became more than just an ordinal under his command and an old friend but a trusted personal confident for the emperor as well. often he would admit his worries and self - perceived shortcomings to him, any plans he felt he failed to truly achieved or those all but scrapped with little chance of fruition. in shieda, he thought they would be safe, and maybe find some advice. though, he often knew what his friend would suggest before he said it.

his suggestions were ruthless and pragmatic, looking at the situation as a problem to be solved but not at those lives and people surrounding it. at first he had chided shieda for his suggestions, quite recoiling from their brutality and shocked that he would even suggest such a thing. but, over time, he knew that he was only doing as asked, and as an ordinal it was shieda’s duty to suggest such alternatives. they were the ‘ emperor’s attack dogs ’ after all, a common enough title which the emperor did not care much for.

and, to shieda’s credit, the suggestions were well thought out and would likely be very effective, facts the emperor knew all too well. with the military might of the demaxian empire, truly, nothing could stand against them. any resistance could be crush in a matter of days, entire planets could be forced to submit in mere weeks, and hard - line suppression achieved across the system in months. it could be so easy. but, that was far from the hopes he hand carried to the crown in his heart.

he had dreamt of a new golden age for the empire. peace. freedom to worship. closure of class gaps. equal opportunity. and such things were not compatible with shieda’s ideals. but his friend had also once said that he had always thought that holding on to this society would be harder than winning it. war is simple. peace is harder. it was a sentiment jarvan took to heart, helping buffer his worries of setbacks or failures. he would not let himself be known for taking the more simple solutions. 

without empathy, what difference was he from a common warlord or dictator. he was an emperor and these were his people, and he cared for them regardless of their own opinions on him. clinging yet to his ideals, jarvan held a tight leash on his ordinals, their intervention only allowed by his own order and when every other alternative was exhausted. but, he knew frustration stirred within their ranks, he saw it within each of their eyes and the tone of their words, even his own friend.

yet, he did not expect it to be shieda to be the first to step out of line. he was his dearest friend, he was privy to any if not all of his thoughts, after all. he could never had considered he would start testing the boundaries of his orders, nor disobeying them completely. he did not know when it had started but it must have started small. a white lie, a partial mistelling, withholding a brief detail. but he had seen it grow into something noticeable, something which pained the emperor deeply, cutting him to the core. 

henceforth, the emperor found himself withdrawing, speaking little of his troubles and focusing purely on his work. he fought to convince himself that every suspicion was unfounded, his friend’s actions must be for good reason. anything to help alleviate the burden on this thoughts and heart. but doubts were quick to fester in the recesses of the mind. and soon deities of blackened light plagued his dreams, their impossible forms lingering in a corrupted cosmos of a star - system he did not know. 

they were just nightmares, a product of his stress, he would assure himself. nothing more than terrors which greedily stole his sleep. any foreboding he felt when gazing upon the emptiness of space, something which had once instilled him with wonder in his youth, was simply a figment of a tired mind. any rising chill along his spine at the sight of the strange weapon, which kayn now favoured, was just his on concerns of their growing distance. nothing more.

but, how can one be sure? 

extra / one two three

— in the vast darkness of space are born terrible, beautiful things—cosmic creatures of sublime love, and the unknowable monstrosities of the dark star. these are the children of silent gods, and they are finally coming home.  

              golden light seeped from himself and to his assailant, his eyes following it through the air, enchanted by its ethereal beauty. he traced its path to the weapon blade that cut into his chest and to the one who wielded it. he felt his grip slacken on the weapon slacken, its hold not shaken by his dawning death but by a pain deeper than this physical wound could ever hope to rend his heart. his hands now slipped on his own blood and the crescent edge now pressed clean through his chest. 

his voice was naught but a strangled cry, a single tear falling to splash on the scythe’s edge to mingle with his pooling blood. and, as if on cue, his attacker had vanished, ribbons of energy streaming back into his wound. veins and eyes aglow with the power to fuel suns. and, just as so, it burnt. his head lolled back, eyes trained at on the scythe which now hovered so precariously above. sight darkening and body trembling its last, he gave in. 

betrayal. sorrow. grief.

acceptance.

he did not feel the executioner’s blade come down or the body cleave its way out of his chest. in this new horizon he was free of pain, he felt nothing. but even in death that sight tormented him. he thought he recognised the face behind the waning of his life. over and over the vision had played. his last moments, his own personal purgatory until all the lights in the universe burned out. and yet, with each repeat he remembered it less. 

had his end been struck by a sublime being of cosmic dust or corrupted soul of cold entropy? he could no longer recall, the vision warped and faded, the memory devoured along with him. that swirl of emotions he had once felt was left muted and confused, as unknowable as his current state. all that remained was the hollowness of his chest, hands still clutching at a phantom shaft to hold back a blade which no longer pierced him.

the one who had killed him, who were they? 

now even their name eluded him. 

they had been important to him? hadn’t they? 

his in - vain grasp loosened.

he wondered how much time had passed, in this horizon between, it seemed like both an instant and an eternity. time had no meaning here, where ever here was, only light and darkness. it had slowly begun to dim during his solitude. the distant lights he could not reach, flickering before blinking out one by one. in their places came whispers, so sweet and terrible. their words carrying the seductive promise of release, if only he would give in.

and with every new star gone their calls grew louder, their baleful chorus echoing throughout the vast abyss. it urged him to reach out and pluck the fading stars from the sky, to hold them tight against his chest until they were stifled of their light, to plunge the surrounds into a deeper night. to claim them for his own. no, those very stars were what he had once strove to protect, the worlds which orbited them were once his charge. 

once? 

he paused. 

why were they once? why were they not still? 

he could not remember.

barely one light clung to the night sky. and with its fade, there was no reason to resist, there was nothing to resist for nor did he have the strength to continue to do so. and, so he submit himself to those whispers of entropy. formless hands blindly seeking the system’s last star, abandoning their fruitless hold on nothing, in hopes of salvation from this lone abyss. he could feel the heat beneath his palm, the warmth spreading to his chest as he pulled it close. he swore he almost felt his still heart beat.

the singularity commanded him to breathe, and, even without atmosphere or lungs or life, he breathed. gasped. choked. his empty chest filling with the last star's light and exhaling void. it called for him to awaken, and so his eyes slowly opened, their depths now bathed in an ethereal glow, a vicious mockery of those celestial bodies used to reform them. even in darkness, his gaze cut through the night as if it were bright as day, moving to study first his own newly altered form and then the world around him. 

those constellations, which once decorated the evening sky, now mapped along his form. the star which had suffocated in his grasp now hovered dark and beckoning in his hands. and beyond him was nothing, a canvas wiped clean of blemishes, a silent world of peace and calm. around him, the cycle of life and warmth and energy had all but ceased, his rebirth the last damning act of weeping stars. truly, he was a child of silent - gods, and his cradle was their graves. 

but, he could feel stirring beyond the emptiness of his fallen star - system. this cemetery did not extend the full universe, true and eternal entropy was still yet to be met. and, from the dark star hovering in his palms, the whispers raised to a baleful chorus, he knew the singularity demanded it so. for his freedom from his purgatory, and by the dark powers which reforged him, he was bound to their will. and, for every moment he wasted, the deep hunger lapped at his own essence and threatened to return him to that place.

and so he submit to their commands, striding forth towards the distant stars and collecting a cosmic trail in his wake. his closely held hands extended out, bathing the dark star in the remnants of worlds, and crafting a weapon to serve as its instrument and its pedestal. his grip tightened around the lance’s grip, admiring his work and the effortlessness it took to bend reality to his whims. he would reap a wound across the universe, one that would never heal. he would carve into all life to feed his master. he would—

his hand cupped the solar system with ease, marvelling at the swirling lights which fit so precariously in his palm. with but a clench of his fist or strike of his lance, billions of voices would silence all at once. just as his own memories, his own life, had been stripped bare. it would be so easy. just as his master wished it to be and ever closer to his final release. yet, he continued to hold the swirling cluster of planets and stars within his hands, making no action to extinguish it. 

but, again, the singularity did not command his pause. 

so why did he wait?

‘ rally your armies and prepare. your cataclysm awaits. ’ 

stand and fight, so you might have a chance.

extra / one two three four five six

— a mortal emperor unbound by the destruction of his world, jarvan’s essence has since been reforged by the ageless energies of deep space. his humanity and his people now lost forever, he stands ready to welcome the dark star incursion, in the final subjugation of all existence.beneath the corruption, a noble soul. behind the cataclysm, a hero’s will. beyond the splintered worlds, a gasping star.

[moczothe1st]

Let’s Play Fire Emblem IV: Genealogy of the Holy War, Part 22:  The Last King of Jerkland

Part 21

Hey all! Welcome back to another exciting week of Fire Emblem IV, where we once again ignore the actual evil empire to go rough up another, smaller empire, basically because they’re louder and more annoying and invading is the only way to make them stop bitching for five minutes.  You might not think this is a priority, but you don’t have Lewyn’s strong tactical mind.  A new chapter, so let’s get right on into it.

As their headquarters, uncertain of how to next act. Beyond Meath and the engulfing maw of its peaks lies the dracoknights’ kingdom, Thracia.

(“He also just betrayed Arvis last week by letting Blume die so he could invade the north, but we’re going to pretend that didn’t happen, shut up.”)

Thracia is the only state anywhere in Jugdral regarded as an ‘ally’ by the Grannvale Empire.

(Guess which two of these quirky minibosses will not be important. Hint: it will be the two who we’ve killed before only they had different names and maybe slightly different hair colors.)

Travant has fortified his kingdom for one final, full-scale showdown with the liberators. And Thracia’s people hardly offer Seliph an eager welcome; fearing Seliph as a conqueror, they flock in droves to take up arms themselves.  How could any justice lie in this conflict? For whose sake is this war being fought?

(… For Leif, mostly?)

For the first time, these questions now shake Seliph and his army’s resolve…

(Except, again, for Leif. He’s pretty down with this whole situation.)

Travant, Eeeeew: I’ve no interest in any more excuses! Don’t you dare belittle me, Altena. You are a warrior beyond compare, and you and Arion embody my will beyond these walls. I expect no less than for you to do your duty! And what do I find instead? You’ve ignored my orders, left an entire platoon to the slaughter, and strolled home as if nothing ever happened! I’ve never been more disappointed in you.

Altena: I’m sorry, Father, but at least let me explain! I could never agree with such tactics, which enrich only us at the expense of everyone else! How could you ever expect the proud Thracian people to accept prosperity built on the bones of others? Please, Father, rethink your ways!  

Arion: Enough, Altena. There’s no place here for such meddling. Still your tongue and obey Father! Father, bear in mind Altena is still young and unseasoned. I suspect she merely found the last battle too overwhelming a prospect. Please forgive her, even just this once.

Travant: You know, Arion? If you’d just hold back on the coddling, perhaps Altena wouldn’t be so stubborn! … Look, Altena. I’ll give you one last chance. Take a dracoknight platoon and retake Meath. If you slip again, then daughter be damned, I will accept no excuses! Understood?

Altena: Yes, Father…

Travant: Phew, family resemblance indeed… it’s plainly obvious that she loathes me.

Arion: Father, you have to remember that she’s still a child. Like all children, she has yet to realize that her thoughtless words have real effects.  

(I forgot what a giant enabler Arion is.  You could try standing up to someone, sometime, pretty boy.)

Travant: Hmph, I suppose… I’m off to Kapathogia. I hear Hannibal’s found himself some funny ideas about my plans. And so it falls to me to ensure he loses them before somebody gets hurt…

(*sigh* You’re going to kidnap a baby again, huh.)

Arion: I’ve never seen Father so fearful… what could possibly have happened…?

(He’s realized he’s a shitty general and started a fight he can’t win? Because I am… I am just going to wreck him. Nothing personal. … It’s a little personal.)

Travant: Your armored knights will join her at once!

Hannibal: Your Majesty, I’ve said it a thousand times and I’ll say it again. There is no use fighting this war! We must arrange a truce with the liberators if we wish to recover the strength to endure! Bowing to the Empire was a despicable choice to start, one which left us serving our citizens to the true enemy on a gilded platter.

Travant: I did not ask for your opinion! The rebels have slaughtered my soldiers and stolen our territory. The hour is far too late for a truce!

Hannibal: I thought as much… very well. I suppose I have no choice.

Travant: What’s this, Hannibal? Do I hear traitorous rumblings coming from that mouth of yours?

(… No?)

Hannibal: Come now, your Majesty! Never would a warrior such as I consider turning my cloak. Traitor, indeed!

Travant: Really, now… then I trust you won’t object to a test of your warrior’s loyalty. Until the war reaches a victorious end, Hannibal, I’ll be taking care of your son.

(Called it!)

Hannibal: I beg your pardon, your Majesty?! Do you truly have so little faith in me?!

Travant: You have nothing to worry about, Hannibal. If you don’t intend to betray me, then I don’t intend to so much as scratch the boy.

Hannibal: …

Travant: Men! Bring me Hannibal’s son!

(Okay, not a baby, but it’s the thought that counts.)

Travant: Remember, Hannibal. You have nothing to worry about, so long as you behave yourself. As soon as this war is won, you’ll get him back. I admit I don’t understand, though… the boy isn’t even your real son. How could he have such sway over you?

(FOOOOOOOOOOORESHADOWING)

Hannibal: Cairpre has brought much joy into my life. A true family transcends simple blood…

Travant: Ohohohoho! Could it be? Does Thracia’s great statesman have a soft spot for children? Now, then. Thracia depends on you, Hannibal!

(What a dick!)

(Nobody likes a suck-up, Distler.)

Distler the Suck-up: Rest assured, milord. Luthecia is an impregnable wall! I’ve seen to it myself.

Travant: I’ll hold you to your word. Now, I’ve reason to doubt the loyalty of Hannibal at Kapathogia. I’ve taken his son hostage, just in case, and I’m leaving him to your custody.

Distler the Suck-up: Yes, sir! I’ll not let him out of my sight! But should Hannibal turn his cloak-

Travant: Then kill the son. Don’t be lulled into offering even a child any mercy.

Distler: Understood, milord.

Travant: Good. In that case, I think I’ll leave the defense of Grutia to your hands. Try not to get too cocky with the rebels, Bishop. They’re of a treacherous sort.  

(“Also, that kettle is black.  Hm…. When did I become a pot? This must be Altena’s fault.”)

(“That’s because it is meaningless. Unfortunately, it seems someone on the writing staff really digs their Thracian Peninsula D&D game setting and managed to worm it into the story here. And that, Seliph, is why you always hire an editor.”)

Lewyn: The point of a battle comes from how you conduct yourself in it, Seliph.

(That doesn’t even make sense!)

Lewyn: And we hardly have much choice at this point!

(… okay that’s a better reason.)

Seliph: But what of that dracoknight who was watching us from the Manster peaks? I’ve seldom seen such a sad look in anybody’s eyes… how could I fight somebody like her…?

(Well, I mean, not to spoil you or anything, but…)

Lewyn: That’s enough, Seliph! This is war! If you can’t handle it, then leave! Run home to Tirnanog!

(… Where the fuck did that come from?!)

Seliph: Lewyn…

Oifey: I beg your pardon, Lord Lewyn?! His Majesty is tired and stressed! Such harsh words are uncalled for.

Lewyn: Look, I know. But everyone else is just as stressed, yet they all know we can’t afford to stop. With the resurrection of Loptyr on the horizon, it’s crucial we get to Grannvale and stop the world falling to ruin while we still can.  

Seliph: Thank you, Oifey… but Lewyn speaks the truth.  An inevitable battle lies ahead, and if we see in it naught but futility, then my duty is to carve my own purpose into it. I’ll never again flinch or turn away!

(Seliph could see her eyes, apparently, so if Leif missed her entirely he’s got a lot to learn about being a chosen prince with bad hair.)

Leif: Oh, the woman? I saw her. I don’t believe it’s every day that you encounter a female dracoknight, is it? Was there something amiss about her?

Finn: It was her weapon… she was wielding Gae Bolg, Leonster’s holy lance. And I sensed an aura cloaking her… the holy aura of Nova, like your father.

Leif: What? What are you saying, Finn?!

Finn: There is only one explanation, my lord. Your sister, Altena, must not have died in the Thracian ambush seventeen years ago.  Nor was Gae Bolg lost.

Leif: Altena?! She’s… she’s still alive?! Then what in the blazes was she doing commanding a Thracian army?

(… Duh, dude.)

Finn: I’d surmise that Travant took her back to Thracia as a child, and raised her as his own.

Leif: Huh… who knew a man as cold as Travant could do something so humane?

(… Leif, for fuck’s sake, try to keep up here.)

Finn: It isn’t so simple, milord. Altena is the inheritor of your father’s holy lineage from the goddess Nova. As such, unlike you, she is capable of wielding the Gae Bolg. Power is the only reason a man like Travant would ever be so kind to his enemy’s child.  

Leif: So he’s tricked my sister just so he can use her as a weapon! Travant… what a disgusting man… … I want to help her, Finn. If we can make her see the truth, I know we can work together to avenge our parents.

Finn: My lord, I believe you’re the only one who could possibly convince her now. Even after all these years, my lord, you are still her brother. I’m certain she will open her heart to you if you try.  Please, my lord. Please save Lady Altena…

Whoo! And that’s a hell of an infodump, but time to start the map.  First, of course, it’s time to ignore the enemy for five hours while we engage in gladiatorial combat for blood money.  This time, though, I’m going to do things a liiiiittle differently. It will be pricey, but anyone… let’s who is level 15 or lower, and who has access to a solid 40K gold, will be shelling out the money to buy the Paragon Band before their run and then sell it when they’re done.  This is expensive, seriously expensive, but it will double everyone’s arena EXP gains and should shoot all our levels quite a bit. And we have cash to spare, so why not?  Catch you on the flip side!

Seliph: Seven wins, gained two levels: +3 HP, +1 Strength, +1 Speed, +1 Magic, +1 Luck, +1 Defense

Julia: Seven wins, gained one level: +1 HP, +1 Strength, +1 Resistance

Shanan: Seven wins, gained two levels: +3 HP, +2 Skill, +2 Strength, +1 Speed, +1 Resistance

Oifey: Six wins, gained two levels: +2 HP, +1 Strength, +1 Luck

Ulster: Seven wins, gained five levels: +5 HP, +5 Skill, +3 Strength, +1 Speed, +1 Luck, +2 Defense

Larcei: Seven wins, gained five levels: +6 HP, +3 Skill, +1 Strength, +2 Speed, +3 Luck, +2 Defense

Lester: Seven wins, gained four levels: +4 HP, +2 Skill, +1 Strength, +3 Speed, +1 Magic, +2 Luck, +2 Defense

Dermott: Seven wins, gained four levels: +4 HP, +3 Skill, +2 Speed, +3 Luck, +2 Defense

Nanna: Seven wins, gained three levels: +3 HP, +2 Speed, +1 Magic!!!!!!, +1 Luck, +1 Defense, +1 Resistance

Fee: Seven wins, gained five levels: +5 HP, +2 Skill, +1 Strength, +2 Speed, +3 Magic, +3 Luck, +2 Defense, +3 Resistance

Ced: Seven wins, gained two levels: +2 HP, +1 Skill, +2 Magic, +1 Luck, +1 Defense

Arthur: Seven wins, gained five levels: +8 HP, +1 Skill, +3 Magic, +2 Luck, +3 Defense, +3 Resistance

Tinni: Seven wins, gained five levels: +5 HP, +1 Skill, +4 Magic, +4 Luck, +1 Resistance

Patty: Seven wins, gained two levels: +3 HP, +2 Strength, +1 Speed, +1 Luck, +1 Resistance

Faval: Seven wins, gained two levels: +3 HP, +2 Speed, +2 Luck, +1 Defense

Leif: Seven wins, gained five levels: +7 HP, +1 Skill, +1 Strength, +3 Speed, +2 Luck, +1 Defense

Johan: Six wins, gained levels: +2 HP, +1 Strength, +1 Speed, +1 Defense

Finn: Six wins, gained one level: +1 HP, +1 Skill, +1 Resistance

Ares: Seven wins, gained four levels: +4 HP, +2 Speed, +1 Magic, +2 Luck, +2 Resistance

Not bad, though it’s hard not to be a little sad at the people starting to fall behind; anyone who isn’t a kid and doesn’t have a holy weapon is going to start finding it harder to get all seven wins from now on.  Johan, Finn, and Oifey just couldn’t pull through no matter how much I screwed around with the RNG… er… I mean… no matter how… fair I was.  On the bright side, though, we do get four brand new promotions!

Larcei, Fee, Arthur, Tinni, and Dermott are also on the verge, having all hit level 19.  So basically, it’s hard to look at this as anything but a major win.  Go go combat potential! And we will need it, since shit’s about to get fucked.  

Here’s the chapter map; we start in the northeast corner, and Hannibal and Altena’s units will start moving toward us immediately.  Altena, obviously, we can just talk to with Leif, that’s no biggie. But to recruit Hannibal (of course he’s recruitable, why would you even question that) we need to go save his son from Distler in Luthecia castle. The issue comes from the fact that Hannibal and his own castle are between us and there, and he’s of course hostile.  Which means we need to get Seliph and presumably some other units for backup past Hannibal, without killing the dumb bastard, save Cairpre, and get him back to talk some sense into his dad. Again, without killing him. There’s a trick to it, but it’s not guaranteed to work. In general the whole thing is a pain in the ass and frankly it might be better for everyone’s sanity to just kill Hannibal, but that just ain’t how I roll. Let’s do this shit!  

First, though, Faval and Patty have a chat.    

(I feel like I have to mention she literally used her ability to steal money as the reason Seliph should keep her around.)

Faval: Ugh. Look, I don’t care if you’re just stealing from the enemy. I don’t like you stealing at all!  Knock if off, okay?

Patty: What, do you think I like doing this? That I steal for the fun of it?! This army needs to eat, y’know, and we need gold for that! We don’t have all that many options here!  

Faval: Yeah, but haven’t you heard what people are saying about you? I’ve caught people mocking you, like being a thief’s a walking punch line��� “What else can ya expect from a pirate’s brat? Like mother, like child,” they kept saying. Of course, I wiped the floor them…

Patty: It doesn’t matter what people think, Faval!  Let them say whatever they want. Doesn’t change a thing about Mom… and it doesn’t change that she was heir of Ullur the Crusader! I was in tears when Lewyn told me about her… I’ve never been so happy!

Faval: Yeah, me too… y’know, we haven’t exactly had the easiest lives… poor orphans and all that. I never even dreamed our mother could actually be a noblewoman!  I don’t suppose you remember anything about her, Patty?

Patty: Nope, not a thing. You?

Faval: Yeah, but… only a little. She was a kind and beautiful woman…

(“And she constantly smelled of the blood of her many, many victims.”)

Patty: So is she… do you think Mom’s dead?

Faval: I can’t say for sure… but as soon as the war’s done with, Patty, we’re gonna go look for her. We’ll find our mother… Bridget… and even though we don’t know his name, maybe we’ll find our father too.

Patty gains +1 Luck from this conversation, and that must be the tipping point because canonically Bridget did survive and they eventually find her. It doesn’t make a lot of sense, but it’s canon.  Look up Fire Emblem: Thracia 776 for details, but I wouldn’t recommend actually playing it.  

Now, the majority of the army deploys in standard horde formation and getting ready to stab the crap out of every Thracian, but Fee is going to run off on her own.  See, all the map’s villages are directly to the west of the starting castle, across a mountain range, and she’s the only one who can reach it in time to kill the bandits before any of them get destroyed.

Only the one with the axe off to the side will destroy any villages, so we have time, but I don’t want to lose a single one.  Some of them have items, if I remember right, and even if they don’t I just blew like a billion gold on making everyone super buff.  End turn!

Hannibal: Wait. For the time being we should remain on the defensive. I’d prefer to avoid any  needless skirmishes with the enemy.

Lieutenant Palette-Swap: But sir, what about…

Hannibal: … My son. I know, but… for now, I would rather hold back and let the battle unfold, first. My apologies, Kanatz, but I’d like you to take charge of defending the castle.

Kanatz: As you will, sir!

Okay, I guess only Altena moves toward you on turn one. I coulda sworn they both did, but whatcha gonna do? Second verse, same as the first; no enemies are in range, so I move up toward Hannibal’s line and have Fee continue making a beeline straight west across the mountains.  Unfortunately, all of hannibal’s units are armor knights, meaning you have to get right up in their noses before they can move far enough to attack you.  I suspect next turn will look much the same as this one.  End!

Cairpre: Papa doesn’t want to fight! He’s out there risking his life all because of me…

(Cairpre has a distinct, deep misunderstanding of what a hostage is, I think.)

Distler: Silence, boy! If Thracia’s legendary Shield refuses to ply his warrior’s craft of his own will, then we’ll force him to by any means necessary!

Cairpre: Oh, papa… sorry…

Cairpre might be a bit of a loser.  Off to the southeast, Altena’s unit moves up again; they’ll be attacking us next turn, and will be intercepted by Tinni, Arthur, Julia, Leif, Nanna, and Faval. The rest of the team moves forward, pausing in the edge of Hannibal’s unit’s movement range on the forest tiles for extra sweet, sweet defense.   Oh, and Fee continues her field trip, of course. End turn, and let’s do this!

Hm. Not great. Tinni, you could stand to dodge. And two of the wyverns went off after Finn, because he was on the edge of their range and I didn’t notice. Buuuut, I think we got this. First step, I think, is to wipe out Altena’s unit so Leif can reach her.

Awesome!  Now Leif can reach Altena, and…

*twitch*  Welp, mountains fucked that one up! Hopefully Altena won’t shank someone to death or try to fight someone who’s invincible.

Okay, I may have to reset this, but for now let’s play as though it’s not a horrible issue.  Western front, rock out.  

That was not as many kills as I’d been hoping for!  This… is going to hurt. But on the plus side, I was already half-planning to reset, so… end turn.

…. Shit. Ares, please go easy on him?  Hannibal, please use Pavise! Twice, possibly!

FUCK YOU, you stupid old bastard.  Ulster should definitely have died in over the course of this encounter. Did you see how low his health got?! He should not have survived what he did here!  And yet, he did. Everything was going not merely fine but miraculously fine. And then this jackass, who I must note had a very solid chance to survive this battle thanks to his broken obnoxious special ability, runs up to commit suicide and just leaves the Pavise behind on the kitchen table, I guess.  

I should leave him dead. I should leave him dead.  

…

*sigh*

Reset.  

To the east, the people who did their fucking jobs last time repeat a smashing victory, with one difference: I don’t fuck up my movement and can get Leif close enough to chat with his sister.    

(*snerk*  “Waaaaaaait!” What a drama-prince.)  

Leif: I… I am Leif, of House Leonster.

Altena: Oh, I see… the famous Prince Leif, is it? In case it wasn’t obvious… and evidently, it wasn’t… I am Altena, daughter of Travant.

(Altena’s snark game is on-point, damn. Though I guess it’s easy to be snarky when your enemy appears to have an unkempt porcupine on his head.)

Leif: Listen to me, Altena! Your true parents are Prince Quan and Princess Ethlyn, whom Travant slew seventeen years ago. You vanished in Travant’s attack, and so too did Gae Bolg, the sacred earth lance of Leonster… the very lance resting in your hand as we speak! Only a true heir of House Leonster can wield Gae Bolg.  

Altena: What are you talking about?! Are you seriously trying to claim my true father is my king’s arch-enemy?!  That could never be… it mustn’t…

Leif: Look into my eyes.  If anything can prove the truth of my words to you, it will be my eyes. Please, sister…

Altena: Fine… What is this…?!  I know you’re lying, but… but I can’t bring myself to doubt you anymore…

(This would stretch belief quite a bit, if it wasn’t established by earlier interactions that Crusader heirs with similar bloodlines actually can instinctively sense each other. So it only looks like Leif has brainwashed her with his hypno-eyes.)  

Leif: Altena…

Altena: Wait!  I… I must speak with Father. I need to confirm this…

(Bad, bad plan, honey.)

Altena: Or was my father really Prince Quan?!

Travant: Feh… I see you’ve found out at last. Well, I suppose it was only a matter of time before this day came. It’s true. Quan did indeed sire you, but what difference does that make? It doesn’t change that it was I who raised you.

(“Am I not the one who has stomped all over your spirit and morals since you were a little girl? Am I not the one who screams at you to slaughter children and the elderly while your heart rots and dies, sick with the weight of your sins? If that’s not fatherhood, what is?”)

Altena: So you… you murdered my parents?  Father…

Travant: Heh…. I suppose I did.  Quan and Ethlyn died at my hand. Do you take issue with that? War is Hell, Altena. War claims lives. Worrying now won’t change a thing.

(What a dick!)

Altena: Gah… how dare you?! How dare you mislead me all these years, Fath… no, Travant! 

Arion: I cannot allow this. If you dare to turn on Father, you’ll have to contend with me first!

Altena: W-wait! I can’t fight you, Arion! I could never-

Arion: It’s too late for you to stand down now. Farewell!

Altena: Nnnngh… Arion…

Travant: … You didn’t just kill her, did you, Arion? You know, you didn’t need to go quite so far…

(Now is when you decide to be a parent?!  What a dick!)

Travant: Eh, no matter. I’m going to join the fray, Arion. I suppose there’s little choice now. You’re in charge of defending the castle.

Arion: Understood, Father.

Travant: I’ll entrust this spear to you… and with it, the future of Thracia.  

Arion: Hold a moment, Father… this is Gungnir! What is the meaning of this? How do you intend to fight without it? Unless… Father, you can’t be-

Travant: I am. Frankly, Arion, I’ve had enough. Thracia is yours to do with as you see fit. But we don’t need to be hated by their kind…

Arion: Are you seriously suggesting I should seek a truce, Father?! No! Never! To comply with the rebels now would be unthinkable!

Travant: As I said, Thracia is yours. Do as you see fit. All I ask is that you find a way to liberate our people from their suffering. Farewell, Arion.

Arion: … Father…

Yeah, that just happened, and… I kind of hate it.  I’m going to be honest, and also going to go off on a little rant again, because this moment always makes me kind of angry.  It feels like Travant and Arion swapped personalities for this conversation. See, the thing is, like basically all FE characters, Travant is an archetype; in particular, he is the ‘Michalis.’  A smug, ambitious jackass, almost always a wyvern rider, who really thinks he is the main antagonist but who is generally more of a speed-bump you run down on your way to the real threat. And the thing that defines Michalis types is that they generally aren’t sympathetic in any way. They’re bastards and you enjoy the moment you riddle them with arrows.  

Now, there’s nothing wrong with subverting archetypes.  If they want to play around and make a character who looks like a Michalis but is actually sympathetic deep down, more power to you! But there is a different between a character being sympathetic, and the game telling us a character is sympathetic.  Because King Travant has been a giant bastard in every moment of his appearance in the entire game, a smug ambitious ass who has murdered and betrayed his way through every scene he was in, while looking down on basically everyone around him and showing zero care for any of the many, many of his own men he’s gotten killed.  Beyond occasional lip-service to ‘saving Thracia’, he’s shown nothing but bottomless ambition and a willingness to kill anyone who gets in the way of it.  And now, all of a sudden, he’s decided to nobly die in battle and leave Thracia in better hands?  This is like Sigurd revealing in chapter six that he was actually working for Manfroy all along.  It’s just such a sudden, random, and extreme shift in personality, blatantly for the purpose of building up sympathy where there just ain’t none to be found.  I generally really like the writing of this game but… wow. The Thracia arc is a hamfisted mess.  

Sorry. Angry writer moment. Back to exciting war.

A bit anticlimactic, huh? Still, we crushed the outer edges of Hannibal’s army, and nobody is in his range so there’s no chance of a rampant suicide again.  We shoooould be able to crush his entire army in one go on our next turn. Meanwhile, Fee is in the range of the bandits over in the village section, so I thiiink they’ll be attacking her? Unless they don’t move, I can’t remember. Let’s see!

Hannibal: Move in on the invaders! We’ll let them proceed no further!

… You’ve been doing that…

Okay, not bad! Now, Travant is moving up and there’s not much time to prep for that, so I’m going to try to kill Hannibal’s whole army in one go. This will be… a pain, frankly.  But if we can do that, Hannibal will go briefly non-hostile as he runs to his castle to get reinforcements. If that happens, you can surround and trap him, since he won’t attack anyone who doesn’t attack him first. Let’s… see how this goes.

…. Almost.  I really hope that was enough to trigger Hannibal to retreat. Run away, you old bastard.  End… end turn.

Yessssssss.  Hannibal didn’t attack, he’s running back to Kapothagia to get reinforcements, and he’s old and cannot run fast.  Once our turn starts, we’re clear to surround him, and send Seliph running straight past him to the next castle.  

Meanwhile, Fee…

My God she is a tank.  How does this keep happening?  Pegasus Knights are supposed to be squishy.

Our turn starts, and I ‘recruit Hannibal.’  

He still has two soldiers alive, but one is a bow user that I can also trap so Patty might eat him, and the other is a healer with no weapon that Patty will also eat. She needs money and experience, is my point. Patty?  

Good girl! Now, Travant’s unit will be hitting us next turn, and he’s a dick, so I’m sending a few units back that way to help out.  Dermott, Lester, and Finn should be able to handle it in combination with the killers who are already there.

So here’s the King Douche himself, finally out and killable, but he’s not gonna make it easy on us. He’s a Dragonmaster, the promoted class of dracoknight, and comes with a Silver Lance and Power Ring to play off his already extremely high strength stat. All his relevant stats are pretty solid except resistance, and he comes with two skills that can make him a pain; Nihil, which nullifies all combat abilities (Luna, Astra, etc.) and in addition removes his natural weakness to arrows as a flying unit.  On top of that, he has Vantage, so once his health goes down a far enough he’ll always get the first strike. Pursuit too, but he’s not terribly fast, so it’s not as big an issue as it could be.  Most of the people who will be fighting him here can outrun him. In addition he has no way to fight at range and his Resistance isn’t great, so mages are his kryptonite in a big way. He’s dangerous, but not beyond belief.

I’mma try to have Leif kill him. You know why.

All right, the turn is mostly set, other than Fee finally getting close enough to save that poor burning village. Go, girl!

I love her so much.  End turn!

Why do people even try to fight Fee.  

…. Well, I’d like to thank Nanna for scaring the shit out of me, and like to thank every Thracian for being a dick. EVERY ONE.  

Okay. Okay. Our turn. To start off? Let’s kill some frickin’ wyverns.    

Ooooh, not great. There’s still several wyverns left, and nobody else can attack.  If the two wyverns and Travant all go for one person, they could kill them. If ooooooooonly there was some way to stooooooooooop him from LANA GO

Clerics, motherfucker. And that’s that! Travant’s group is basically done for; the two small fries will take their potshots, but the king himself is dead in the water.  Boy, that sure was a treacherous and underhanded thing of me to do, paralyzing him from half a mile away with magic. He couldn’t defend himself at all. UWEE HEE HEE HEE HEE.

And now, Fee.

Go Fee! Start flying home to promote, honey, you earned it. Patty continues plinking away at an armor knight while the cleric heals it from a distance, you know the deal; and because I’m not an idiot, I run Dermott back to our main castle and have him stand inside, because wyverns have a huge damn movement range and we’re fighting rather close to it.  End turn.

*smile*

Now then, let’s mop up.

(Syyyyympathetic Anti-Villain~)

Travant: What a pathetic fool that Blume was… how could he fail to kill a runt like you?

(SYYYYYYYYYMPATHETIC ANTI-VILLAIN, SUCH A TRAGIC GUUUUUUUUUUY~)

Leif: We meet at last, Travant… I’ve… I’ve await this day for so long. This is what kept me alive all this time… I’ve lived for this alone… to choke the life from you with my bare hands!

(… Damn, go Leif.)

Travant the Sympathetic Anti-Villain: Heh… as foolish as your father. And unlike him, you can’t even wield Gae Bolg against me! You don’t stand a chance! Now hold still! It’s time you learned the last agonies your parents felt at my hands!

Shame you can’t fight, huh dude.

Travant the Tragic Patriot: Ha! How laughable! A common soldier like you could never even scratch me! I take it you’re ready to die, then?

… No, I don’t know how he dodges while asleep. Same way he talks, I guess. Life is a complicated thing. Anyway, Travant is beaten, so with Leif waiting there to kill him slowly, I start splitting the army up. Those who can promote start heading home, while the others head west to help out Seliph as he moves on to besiege a castle by himself.  He doesn’t really need help, but they’re gonna need to go there eventually anyway. The enemy can no longer move at all; all our turns will be consecutive until we finish up Hannibal’s castle and/or kill Travant. This update is already too long and Patty is just gonna be plinking away forever, so let’s stick to the highlights of the combat:  

Nice!  And of course, now story happens.

Arion: My apologies, Altena. I had to give Father a convincing show, to ensure your survival. I had no choice but to deal such a powerful blow.

Altena: Don’t worry, Arion. But where is Fath… King Travant now?

Arion: … You won’t see him again. Father has died in battle.

Altena: He has…?  How did it happen?

Arion: You’d be better off not knowing. Father’s heart was an enigma at the best of times…

Altena: … Arion. What do you think I should do now?  

Arion: Join prince Leif, your true brother. I’m certain he is still waiting for you.

Altena: Then what will you-

Arion: Altena. This is my fate. There’s no helping it.

Altena: No! You can call for a truce, Arion! Now that Travant is dead, there’s nothing to stop you from seeking peace! And I… I could never fight you!

(Oh god dammit, this isn’t a brotherly ‘I can’t fight you,’ is it.)

Arion: I wish I could, and I would were it not for Father’s final words to me…

(…………….. HE LITERALLY TOLD YOU TO JUST DO WHATEVER YOU WANTED, ASSHOLE.)

Arion: Please, Altena… Go!  However, be prepared. Our next meeting will be on the battlefield, and I will not stay my hand!

Altena: Oh… Arion…

(King Arion of Thracia: What a dick!)

And with that, Altena starts flying toward our army to sign up.  Since there’s nothing else to do but let Patty continue plinkin’ away, I think we’ll call it a week here. Seliph, do the honors!

Seliph: Who are you? What’s the matter?

Cairpre: I’m Cairpre… I’m General Hannibal’s son. And… wait… aren’t you Lord Seliph, the Liberator!?

Seliph: Indeed I am. If I may ask, Cairpre, why would Thracia imprison one of their own generals’ sons?

(“Because apparently being king of this shitty country instantly turns you into a rampaging douche.”)

Cairpre: King Travant took me hostage. Papa didn’t want to fight your army, so the king threatened my life to force him to fight… please, sir! Please take me to Papa! If he knows I’m safe, then he won’t have to keep fighting! Please, we’ve gotta save him!

Seliph: I see…. Don’t worry. I promise we’ll find him. Move out, everyone! I pray we’ll still be in time to save General Hannibal!

Spoiler for next week’s update: we will.  See you then, when we promote like seven dudes, recruit an old idiot and a young awesome princess, and just generally rock out all over whatever is left of Thracia. Go team!

Total Resets: 26. Not sure I should count this since it was Hannibal killing himself on the worst possible target in his range, not anything I did, but I’ve always has a masochistic streak.

Part 23

[thelovingschool]

The Fantastic Four to the Fourth Power, Part 2 -- My Crucible Experience

I've recently finished Doris Kearns Goodwin's excellent book, Leadership in Turbulent Times, in which she details the ways in which four US presidents served as leaders through pivotal historical moments. As I wrote in my previous post, there were commonalities among the four presidents in the ways they led during critical times. I enjoyed learning about those turbulent times, yes, but I also really enjoyed part two of the book, in which Goodwin describes how each president, earlier in their lives, underwent a “crucible” moment, a transformative experience that was instrumental in shaping the identities of the leaders they would become. The ways in which each president transformed themselves was both intriguing and highlighted the differences among them. Reflecting on those differences and on my own experiences has led me to an interesting idea. Let me explain.

My own crucible experience was not brought on by loss, as was the case for our presidents, to whom I promise to return. In the summer of 2016, I traveled to Bethlehem, Pennsylvania, as part of the Lehigh University Global Distance Program. I had been teaching overseas for over ten years, and was interested in moving into school leadership. Lehigh had (and has) the best program for international teachers to earn their MEds through a hybrid program, some courses online, some face-to-face. I had been teaching in Panama for a year, and had taken courses via Zoom already. But that summer I packed a bag, said goodbye to my wife and one-year-old son, and lived in a dorm for five weeks with a bunch of other international teachers, leaders, and counselors, while I took three educational leadership courses. I dove into the experience as much as I could -- reading every additional article that was assigned, organizing social outings with my peers (Go Lehigh Valley Iron Pigs!), and learning as much as I could. The three courses, Organizational Leadership and Change Management, School Law, and Diversity and Multicultural Understanding, all unlocked within me a greater knowledge about my career as an educator and my life in general than I ever thought possible. I was so fortunate to have the experiences I did, and gain the insights that I did, that I returned with a passion to collaborate, serve, and lead, that I simply hadn’t had before. It was truly transformational. I think of my career before that summer and after.

The first course I took led me to an insight that, when I had it, must have seemed obvious to my outstanding professor, Dr. George White. We were studying Bolman and Deal’s Reframing Organizations, in which the authors describe the four frames of organizational leadership: structural, human resources, political, and cultural/symbolic. It’s a fantastic book, and George brought the text to life in a way that few teachers have ever brought a book to life. Because these frames are important to the rest of these blog posts I want to take a minute to review them. The structural frame involves order. Timetables, roles and responsibilities, hierarchies, logistics. Important in the structural frame are things like job titles and job descriptions. As my partner principal Brian would describe it, the structural frame is the “systems and structures” frame. George professes that he himself is not a systems and structures guy, but he understands the importance of viewing the organization through that frame. The second frame is human resources. Essentially this is about caring for your colleagues, and attending to their needs. A leader viewing things from the HR frame wants to help empower her or his staff and help them grow. The political frame was described by George as essentially Game of Thrones. A battle for survival. The battle was over important resources: people, time, space, and funds. In order to succeed in viewing the organization through this frame a leader has to be a politician. As Heifetz and Linsky would say, use allies well, keep the opposition close, and court the uncommitted. Political savviness is a vital part of leadership (and an area in which I still have lots of room for growth). The final frame is the cultural/symbolic frame. This has to do with the story of the organization; its rituals and traditions. A leader who understands how to view things through this frame knows the symbolic importance of certain members of the organization who maintain those traditions, and how important it is to frame the narrative well with respect for the past along with progress toward the future. Story matters, as all of our presidents found out. The trick, and the tricky part, is to be able to balance the four frames, so that as a leader you are not viewing the organization too much from any one frame, and also that you aren’t neglecting any frames.

This was a phenomenal lesson to learn, and one I have found helpful as I analyze leadership challenges we face at our school. But George wasn’t done there. We also focused on change management in the course, and spent some time discussing Shapiro and Stefkovich’s work, Ethical Leadership and Decision Making in Education. These authors describe four foundations for ethical decision making. As a student of philosophy, I’m all in for any discussion of ethics. In fact, fifteen years previously, I took a graduate course called Foundations of Ethics through the BC Philosophy department, where Professor Patrick Byrne described his love for “Bernie and the Two Janes,” or Bernard Lonergan, the Jesuit theologian, Jane Austen, the author, and Jane Jacobs, the sociologist. I love Lonergan and Jane Austen too. I mention them briefly because I feel my life’s work is devoted to understanding how Lonergan’s philosophy applies to educational leadership, and because Jane Austen is JK Rowling’s favorite author. Later in this post we will finally get to a discussion of Harry Potter! But for now, ethical foundations.

Shapiro and Stefkovich describe four ethical foundations for decision making: the ethic of justice, ethic of care, ethic of critique, and the ethic of the profession. A better summary than mine can be found here, but I’ll give it a try. The ethic of justice is exactly what it sounds like: making decisions based on a sense of fairness, equality, equity, respect. Legality matters to those who make decisions based on the ethic of justice. The questions that drive those who make decisions based on the ethic of justice are WHAT and HOW. Essentially this is Plato in The Republic, meditating on what justice really is. The ethic of care involves being empathetic toward others. There is a lot of great work happening now in education regarding compassion and dignity, and treating everyone with both. This work arises from an ethic of care. The question that drives the ethic of care is FOR WHOM, and it arose out of the work of the feminist Carol Gilligan. The ethic of critique asks the question WHO. As in who benefits from the way things are being done now? Who made the decisions? Notice the difference between the subjective ‘who’ and the objective ‘whom’ in the ethics of critique and care, which is one of my favorite grammar lessons to teach, and says everything to me about both of those foundations for decision making. One of my undergraduate courses was Philosophy of Education, in which I was introduced to Paulo Freire, and the ethic of critique fits his ideas in Pedagogy of the Oppressed. The ethic of critique is about power, who has it and who wields it, and also asks, “is that right?” Finally, the ethic of the profession is specific to the context. Similar to the hippocratic oath for medical professionals of “do no harm,” educators have a responsibility to those they profess to educate. This ethic comes down to the fundamental question of WHY we do what we do in this profession. As I wrote in the last post, if we don’t understand our WHY as educators, if we’ve lost our purpose, Baruti Kafele will rightly tell us we should just get out of the profession. It’s about us as educators evaluating our own decision-making values in light of the fact that we are all here to serve our students and their learning.

So this is all well and good, but I don’t mean to just write book report after book report. I want to make a point. And what I pondered in that course five summers ago with Dr. White was the simple notion that there are four frames of organizational leadership and there are four foundations for ethical decision making. Four. Four of them. Four of each. Why four? Is there some significance here? And then it hit me. The four frames align PERFECTLY with the four foundations for ethical decision making.

The structural frame is about order, systems, structures. In a sense, it is about fairness. It IS the lens through which the ethic of justice is viewed.

The human resource frame is about compassion, empathy, meeting our staff’s needs. It IS the lens through which the ethic of care is viewed.

The political frame is all about utilizing power to exert influence and gain control over time, people, space, and financial resources. It’s about control, and who is controlling. The ethic of critique is finely attuned to understanding this frame, as it asks who is exerting power.

Finally, the symbolic/cultural frame has everything to do with the story of the organization, with its purpose, with its WHY. Therefore, those who base decisions on the ethic of the profession are inherently interested in the important symbolic nature of what they do.

To illustrate this further I’ll start this small table:

So as I was thinking about this, and wondering not only if this made sense, but also if this mattered at all, I started seeing other sets of four arise in educational literature, leadership literature, and self-knowledge literature. Fours are EVERYWHERE. Those fours started really turning the wheels in my mind, thinking about not only ways to organize and think about what we do, how we do it, who we are, and why we do it, but also how those organizational frameworks can help us better understand how to do it better. These connections will continue to be the subjects of future posts.

Of course, I also thought of some pop culture sets of four: The Fantastic Four and the Beatles came immediately to mind. But what really struck me were the four houses in Hogwarts: Slytherin, Hufflepuff, Gryffindor, and Ravenclaw. How THESE align with the four frames and the four ethical foundations is the subject of my next post. Thanks again for reading!

[amahontl]

SINoALICE - Famitsu App Interview with Jino on Character Design

An interview with SINoALICE’s character designer, Jino

Published on August 25th 2017.

The untold story of the birth of the girls from the illustrator of “SINoALICE”, Jino! As well as info on a new character…..!?

Why are the girls so gorgeous?

“SINoALICE”, a mobile RPG that is the work of a collaboration between PokeLabo and Square Enix.

One of the reasons why this title became popular is because of its charming ‘character designs’. Jino, the illustrator who gave birth to the beautiful girls from the world of “SINoALICE”, of who you wouldn’t think at first glance that they would come from a dark tale spun by Yoko Taro.

▲ One of the concept art that Jino conceived. Jino possesses a rather unique touch which resonates well with the “NieR” series and the very essence of Yoko’s own world. This is truly ‘art’.

From the previous interview, we learned that Jino, with a professional mindset in place, visited a library and even looked up the story’s own setting of its era. Just how did he bring the 9 girls to life? We’ll unravel the truth!

The 9 girls brought to life by Jino

From here on, we will go through Jino’s creative process as well as some rough sketches. We hear the players asking questions about the design, such as “Why did you go with this design?” “Where is the point of focus?” and so on. Jino shares with us his comments regarding the matter.

Alice (CV: M.A.O)

Alice, you may call her the main character of SINoALICE. The keyword is “Restriction”, not to restrict someone in the game, rather, to restrict your own self. This trait of Alice’s shows one side of her largely mysterious character.

▲ Coupled with a large pocket watch and a distinctive sword, as well as an aura of blue, filled with valiant air. Completed with a frilly maid outfit, creating a gap that received much praise from the players.

Jino’s comment

The maid outfit was a proper request (from Yoko). There are gothic motifs in the sword as well, which was created faithfully to Yoko’s orders…. That’s my intention!

“In a scenario where her original flange broke off in a fierce battle and she fled off to somewhere, what weapon would she use as a substitute?”, which was the delusion I had which lead to me to the idea that she’d use a circular-shaped weapon. So I thought, slap a pocket watch on it! And so, that was the conclusion I arrived at.

There was also the “If the apron shoulder straps come off then I’ll fool em by wrapping it around” and “The scabbard was quickly lost so in order to put back the sword, I’ll give Alice a harness”, as well as “The knee socks look like it’ll tear apart so I’ll add in something simple instead” and etc, in addition with that sort of behaviour and combat style (which I simply made up myself) I imagined and I designed it from there.

▲ Underneath the maid outfit are the harness and its belt and even a ton of pocket watches. These are details you won’t be able to notice in the game, all mixed in with my tastes.

Snow White (CV: Ueda Reina)

The keyword for the titular character of her own story, ‘Snow White’, is “Justice”. In the story, she’s easily taken as self-centered, however, she strongly enforces her own twisted form of ‘Justice’.

Jino’s comment

Actually, her hair and clothes and all give off a very general looking silhouette, as per request. There’s a contrast between a katana and a greatsword, so I designed it in a way that would have the same difference between a samurai and a knight.

If you give her some clunky armor… Well, you wouldn’t be happy with it, would you? (darkly smirks) Which was what I thought, so I gave her a great sword that’s easy to wield, coupled with a light outfit. I tried to make it so that the armor would assemble as much as possible on the front part of the design.

▲ Adorned with a pure white dress, decorated with a bouquet of blood-smeared roses leaves quite the impression. She seems to have settled in with the dirt sullying the end of her dress.

Hansel and Gretel (CV: Uchida Maaya)

Gretel, a girl with a few screws loose who has a relentless obsession with her older brother. I’ve gotten a snippet that she has already laid her hands on him…… The keyword for her is “Delusion”.

Jino’s comment

I’ve gotten a request to implement a robe but that would’ve made Gretel’s silhouette to be similar to Red Riding Hood’s. I was troubled on how to make Gretel more distinct. I felt that I made a pretty good impression with it.

In the game, Gretel is shown to be messed-up so her clothes mimic that trait of hers. Her exposure is also sort of mismatched. The mismatch is a specialty of Gretel’s, I wonder if I conveyed that correctly, even my comment became mismatched.

▲ The cage that Gretel carries is her feature. This cage has a motif of teeth and gums.

Pinocchio (CV: Sanpei Yuuko)

Due to not knowing what to do on his own, Pinocchio sets out to revive his Author. In contrast, I didn’t think much about the verbally abusive staff-Pinocchio. His keyword is “Dependency”.

Jino’s comment

The request was to make him look like he was brought up with proper manners. The head that’s attached to the weapon was originally supposed to be eerie-looking, as if it’s cursed, there’s also the setting where it’s able to talk and the result of focusing on that gave birth to a rather charming chap.

My favourite is this mysterious flapping open bag. I think it’s actually hard to use but I wonder if that’s alright…..

▲ Pinocchio’s staff is able to grow limbs and is able to move freely. With the upcoming Job designs for Pinocchio, I’d like to fully utilize that setting.

Little Mermaid (CV: Noto Mamiko)

The Little Mermaid, a girl who expresses her own story as a ‘Tragedy’. She holds a twisted ideology where “Tragedy is Beauty”. Her keyword is “Sorrow”.

Jino’s comment

It was a setting where her hair would have fish fins protruding out, but, there wasn’t any twin-tailed character so far so. “The tail end will have fins then!” was what I went with and so she has an extremely thick tail fin extending from her head.

I tried reading the setting book again, but I have a feeling I’ve made a mistake. I think there was a request to make her look like Medusa…… N-nah, I’m able to present the final design like so, so that means I did the job! Yes I did!

▲ Her weapon has ocean motifs embroidered on it. “You can break coconuts with it”, according to Jino’s comment.

Princess Kaguya (CV: Itou Shizuka)

Princess Kaguya, she has the most mature physique amongst the 9 girls. In the game, she stands out with her masochistic trait where she seeks out a companion who will torment her. Her keyword is “Suffering”.

Jino’s comment

Her outfit originally was supposed to be that of a courtesan’s, but, when I looked up the fashion in the Heian-period to see how it looks like, I decided to go against the request. (What) Or so I thought, I had to implement her twelve-layered ceremonial kimono no matter what so I was put in a really tough spot. As a result of trying to find a solution, “A person who returns to the Moon is an Alien!” and with that, I mixed in Alien-like elements into a courtesan. (What)

It all looks pretty messy to me but, I’m truly grateful to Yoko’s big heart!

▲ The skull ornaments on the weapon and her clothes give out quite the impression. Her characteristic is her bewitching aura.

Briar Rose (CV: Hondo Kaede)

“Briar Rose”, a girl who wishes for a world of everlasting slumber. One who disturbs her from her sleep will be torn apart by her cage of thorns. Her keyword is “Slumber”.

Jino’s comment

The request what that for her to be sleeping in an encasement of thorns but, in terms of the game system, how is her sprite going to be animated was a problem. So, the Art Director and I pondered about it together. In the middle of all that, somehow, a certain famed post-apocalyptic game’s “that vehicle” popped into my head.

Thanks to that, we now have a bit of a firmly established character. And also thanks to having settled on the character, I was able to make the weapon more flashy, it was like killing two birds with one stone. Wasn’t she supposed to be a much more docile character? Uhh…...

▲ The doll that Briar holds in her hands can be associated with her “childishness”. But, the thorns surrounding her give off a sinister impression.

Red Riding Hood (CV: Imamura Ayaka)

“Red Riding Hood’, a girl who holds a psychopathic line of thinking no matter how much she kills, kills, and kills, will never be enough. In accordance with her keyword; “Violence”, she holds her greatest desire of slaughter with pride.

Jino’s comment

I had torture tools as the first image in mind but at the same time, her violent personality gives me the impression of “I don’t feel any sort of attachment to the tools themselves”, with that, I shifted the outfit and weapon design into a dicey manner.

Just like Jac◯y Chan where he picks up things that are around him and use it, if he likes it, he takes it home. I feel like I’m wrong about the comparison.

▲ The huge gap between a pure and innocent smile and a ferocious-looking weapon. It truly compliments the aspect of a psychopath.

Cinderella (CV: Kitamura Eri)

“Cinderella”, a strong-willed character. Her personality is rotten to the point that it feels good, you often see her being gleeful in-game when she sees others suffer. Her keyword is “Depravity”.

Jino’s comment

Truth is, the final design is radically different from the initial request. It seems I’ve added a lot of my tastes into it…..

I had a hunch where Cinderella’s colour palate and silhouette would look similar with the other characters, so I pretty much went with a discriminative approach, Cinderella is designed in a way when someone looks at her, they’ll go “Huh?”.

Small arms aren’t my specialty, so I had a quite a tough time.

▲ The combination of a rotten facial expression and a gun as a weapon goes hand in hand. Inside her skirt is another weapon cramped inside of it.

Jino’s Untold Story of Development

After the game launched, “SINoALICE” has gained a lot of responses of the players, I would like to hear your current impression of the game.

Jino: I’ve never had a career before this, I’m just but an inexperienced illustrator, so reality hasn’t quite set inside me just yet. This was the kind of work where I kept pondering on whether “Was this right?” during the long period of time before the game launched, but no matter how much I ponder, it’s tough to answer it. Honestly speaking, I feel quite relieved to see the huge reception for the designs. Thank you very much.

In addition to be the one to supervise the designs, what was the hardest thing about it? And also, what was it that bore in mind during the process?

Jino: The question was how to shape up Yoko’s worldview, which left me exhausted. The designs I made for the characters must match up entirely with the theme of the game or else we would’ve failed our goal. Characters are often regarded as the face of the game, likewise, I kept in mind that they are one part of the game. With regards to the comment from above, isn’t it absurd……? That was the impression I had but, I’m doing a proper job! A proper…. Job…. Especially receiving a piece of advice of having a consistent coloring style. If I’m not aware of what I’m doing, then there will be messy areas so this has been quite the learning experience for me.

We’d like to hear who your favourite character is and the reason for it.

Jino: It’s a bit of an unfair response but “Everyone!” is what I’d like to say. I did have a go at the game, saw some fan art and that’s when it came to me, the aspect I never thought possible and all the pairings, that’s when my indecisiveness struck. But of course, my impression might change along the course of development…..?

Could you spare us some details about the currently-under-development character?

Jino: It’s definitely a fairytale character! Even though it’s a fairytale character, it’s an old story yet also relatively new, the next character is quite new! I’m beating around the bush but I have a feeling people will quuuuickly figure it out! Yeah?

▲ A special acquisition of the silhouette of the 10th character! Of what seems to be hair braided into three and a coat that extends down to the knees…..!?

And finally, a word you’d like to say to the players?

Jino: Thank you very much for playing SINoALICE! We’ve only just begun so I’d like to give it my all for the road ahead. I’ll also beat the producer’s butt! To the people who are interested in this article, please give the game a try. Thank you!

Source: Famitsu App

[abenthyadventures]

30th day of Kythorn (parts 1 and 2):

Today was the day of the bard college graduation ceremony and grand tournament.  The five of us—Aeif had spent the night at the monastery—ventured forth toward the festivities in the city, finding the streets around the college and arena lined with venders and games. Before long, a game caught the eye of our number as we watched people try to blindly toss bags of flour into a basket. The price was 5 cp for 3 throws. Finnan played and won quite handily, as did Berien, though the prize for winning was not particularly impressive. Soon thereafter, we came across a hammer-and-bell game. As we approached, we watched a contestant fail miserably. Agnes, seemingly eager to flex her talents quickly took the hammer, despite the skepticism from the crowd and vendor that a woman might be victorious. Of course, I have had the honor of traveling with Agnes for nigh on a month now and knew better than to doubt; nay, rather I placed a wager of five gold pieces on her success and was satisfied to watch as she almost effortlessly nearly shattered the bell at the top of the game tower. Unfortunately, the individual with whom I made the wager decided to scurry off, but thanks to the keen eyes of my familiar, Nolwë, I quickly located him in the crowd, slinking and sniveling, reluctant to pay his debt, but not willing to protest too vehemently lest he further shame himself. 

Next we came across a cup-and-ball guessing game, where one is challenged to visually track which of three cups has a ball in it. I’ve seen other versions of similar games using seashells or playing cards. The game itself is typically a con, relying on the game worker’s sleight of hand to ensure that no matter how well the player tracks, they will be wrong in the end. However, I decided to give as good as I might get and used a cantrip of my own to even the odds. The carny noticed when I won, but would not make a scene lest the nature of his game be made public. He quietly suggested  I take my winnings and not return to his stall, and I obliged, not wanting to make a scene myself. 

Eventually, Finnan noted that his specially ordered lute case should be ready for pick up. Berien, Agnes, and I accompanied him, while Lyria declined the invitation and agreed to meet at the arena later for the tournament. Thus, we set out for Vesper’s. I asked Finnan if this person was a “fence” which he confirmed. I express some concern about the ethicality, and indeed the legality, of engaging in transactions with Vesper. Finnan noted that Vesper has extensive and powerful connections and this particular transaction was entirely legitimate and posed no risk to our freedom or morals. Agnes, unfamiliar with the concept, overheard my questions to Finnan asked me what a fence is, which I hesitated to explain lest her sense of justice be too heartily aroused. Still, I would not wish to deceive her; I assured her Finnan’s business here was safe, but noted that we should be careful with our dealings. 

As we wrapped up this bit of morning business, Finnan told us a little more about his lute, Rasanate, and how it belonged to his grandfather. He noted that Rasanate’s habit of “speaking” to him is actually a quite new experience. He knew of no legends of the lute’s sentience, and so far as he knew it had just been a fine heirloom instrument. Finnan is clearly very attached to this instrument, but I still worry about the influence of the entity that seems to reside within it. 

We made our way toward tournament grounds. Finnan and I would simply be spectators for the tournament of individual fighters and I was eager to see Agnes in action. Later, we all worked together in a group challenge, but I shall detail the singles’ tournament first. 

The tournament was drawn as a bracket, with a totality of eight fighters. A win would see the victor advance to the next round until only two remained and then those final two would contest each other to determine the champion. Reportedly, the matchups were randomized, so no one knew their first round match until right before they entered combat. 

Lyria’s name was the first called and she faced down a human warrior named Aslin, who was well-armored and wielding a warhammer. Lyria moved much faster than her opponent and Aslin barely touched her. Lyria easily won and managed to look bored with the challenge. Indeed she is formidable. 

The next match was between two humans. One—called Talin the Bold—bore armor and wielded a sword from which flames appeared to be emanating. I suspected him to be favored in the match, against the other individual who wore no armor and wielded a quarterstaff—a man called Phalin. I would be wholly wrong, however. No, Phalin avoided Talin’s strikes and masterfully used his fists, feet, and quarterstaff to quickly disable and dispatch Talin. The seneschal noted that Phalin was of “The Way of the Tangled Thorn” and I noted this for later research. 

The third match featured Berien facing down a beast of a man—I believe he was half-orc actually—named Brag. Unfortunately, Berien was entirely outmatched—or just didn’t employ the right strategy (which to my mind would have involved maintaining a maximum distance). Brag knocked Berien out very quickly using nothing but a crude looking club. His first strike appeared to concuss Berien who mindlessly returned to his feet, attempted to lunge with his rapier only to be struck again and knocked unconscious.

The final first round match was by far the most competitive as Agnes and Aeif were drawn against each other. My curiosity was truly piqued. Initially, Aeif’s attempts to strike Agnes were entirely futile and Agnes managed to press an advantage. Aeif, however, is much faster than Agnes and he changed approach after being struck, opting to keep distance and throw a strange looking object toward her. Initially, I suspected the object to be the result of some spell, but as the judges did not disqualify him, this was ruled out. Still, it was a most curious sight; the object flew around Agnes and then returned to Aeif’s hand. I was not certain what it was intended to do until he later used it more successfully, which I will document further on within this entry. Aeif’s speed made him hard to hit for Agnes, but when she did strike, she struck hard. There was one point in the fight during which it appeared that Aeif would succeed, but the scene flashed in my mind and I saw Aeif have a knockout blow parried away and lo, so it came to pass. Agnes countered and delivered the final blow, moving toward the second round of matches. Both fought rather well, but I hesitate to say that Aeif fought with bravery. 

In the second round, Lyria was drawn against Phalin and Agnes against Brag. Lyria seemed confident striding into the arena, but in the blink of an eye, Phalin was on the offensive. His first strike appeared to catch her entirely off guard and she barely moved before being struck again and again. Phalin indeed finished off Lyria even more quickly than Lyria herself had finished off Aslin. I was utterly amazed as, up to now, I had not seen Lyria vulnerable. This “Way of the Tangled Thorn” fascinates me; perhaps Aeif could learn something from their methods. 

Agnes too was defeated in the second round, but she did put up a worthy fight. The opponent, Brag, seemed just too fresh and unchallenged by his first round. Agnes had a much more challenging first round and when Brag was struck by Agnes he seemed able to fight through the pain that many others would have been felled under. 

In the final round, Phalin who had easily bested his first two opponents stood against Brag. Though Brag managed to get a measure of offense in early, he too fell victim to Phalin’s rapid, powerful strikes. Phalin achieved a knockout blow by planting his quarterstaff and vaulting himself into the air and delivering a spinning kick to the head of Brag. The crowd seemed conflicted for I don’t think they much cared for either contestant, but still there were cheers for Phalin’s prowess nonetheless. 

After the solo tournament concluded, the contestants for the group rounds gathered in the staging area. Clerics were on hand to patch up the wounds of all the participants. We were then given instructions for how the group rounds would operate. Three teams would compete over the course of three rounds. Each team would face the same type of monstrous enemy and any team that failed a round would be eliminated. Should more than one team beat all three rounds, the winnings would be shared. 

The two other groups gathered nearby. One group—the Talons—seemed well ordered and capable. Most were reserved, but one of their number, Balfour, was charismatic and introduced himself and his party. The second group consisted of 5 young men, each with a musical instrument. Finnan scoffed when he noticed them, and doubly so when they were introduced to the crowd as Passion Thunder. Apparently he was familiar with them already and was not a fan. There was an interesting shift in the audible range of the crowd as the cheers were much more high pitched than before; peering out I noticed a number of young women swooning. This ended up a short-lived cheer though, as this group drew first entry and was defeated by an ettin—a two-headed runt of a giant—quite quickly. Finnan burst into laughter and told us that they all attempted to inspire one another and no one thought to actually have weapons at the ready. 

The Talons, on the other hand, were efficient and quickly took down their opposing Ettin. We followed suit and made short work as well. I used my Spider Staff to conjure a web that entrapped the Ettin, staying to a backline with Finnan and Berien while Agnes, Lyria, and Aeif engaged up close. Lyria managed to deliver the final blow, as she loves to do, but we all played a role.

This strategy worked very well, and as we were drawn to compete first in the second round, we implemented it again in a trial against two trolls. The second round was obviously much more challenging, with twice as many targets, each arguably stronger than the Ettin had been. However, Finnan and I worked sensationally well together to control the flow of combat. Once again I conjured a web, and called out for our melee combatants to get out of the way so I could follow up with a fireball. Finnan used a bit of fey magic to empower everyone else to move exceptionally quickly and thus I was able to launch a fireball right between the trolls while Agnes, Lyria, and Aeif safely avoided the blast. However, as the fireball landed, igniting the trolls and the webbing, I saw a flash of panic-stricken horror come across Aeif’s countenance. You see, he had once again thrown that strange looking object from his fight with Agnes, but this time he had hit one of the trolls with it and it fell to the ground. I realized all too late that it would be in the path of my fireball and my heart sank as I realized 1) that item was the boomerang Aeif had been talking about for weeks and 2) I may have just accidentally destroyed it. It was with great relief that we saw the flames clear away around it and it still laid there as pristine as before. Panic passed, we dealt with the situation at hand. Lyria finished off one troll and Finnan carefully placed a crossbow bolt right through the eye of the other and the arrow carried on through its skull. 

The Talons too were successful against their trolls, and admittedly copied our own strategy, using webbing and fire. Imitation is said to be a most sincere form of flattery, but I must admit to feeling somewhat bitter that they were able to copy us quite so well. But for the third and final round, they would not be able to do the same, as they went first. 

As they entered the arena to face down their final monsters, a tremendous, screeching roar was heard coming from the opposing entranceway. Never have I heard anything like it, and I’m not sure that I care to again. The gates opened and out came two huge beasts that initially seemed like a form of dragon. However, their jaws were even larger than many dragons I’ve seen depicted, and they didn’t have the same skeletal frame one would expect. They had no wings, but they did have incredibly large and powerful rear legs and impossibly small front arms; I say arms, because these creatures were bipedal, only using their rear legs and their long tail for balance. No one we spoke with was able to tell us the name of this creature for certain, but the seneschal indicated he had hear something about a “Terrasaurex” but he seemed doubtful of his pronunciation. 

These terrible reptilian creatures tore through The Talons and I think the clerics on hand needed to use some powerful divine magic to heal them; one was lucky not to be severed in half as one of the creatures bit down on him and held him in his jaws during the fracas. Fear began to settle in and I thought through a potential plan with Finnan for our turn with the creatures. Thus far the webbing had worked well, but we feared the incredible strength of these creatures might not allow us to keep it webbed. Lyria noted she could try to lay zAX a thorny ambush while Finnan might try to distract them with an illusion. Of course, plans are one thing; execution is another. 

We took our strides into the arena and though I cannot speak for the others, an involuntary shiver went down my spine as the beasts charged out. It was quickly clear we would not be able to distract and trap, so I decided to test tensile limits of my webbing once more. The webbing landed and did indeed successfully slow them down and give the rest of the party a fighting chance. However, Lyria was unable to avoid the the jaws of one of monsters and we were left with a dilemma; I could still launch a fireball to hurt the terrasaurexes but it would likely hit Lyria too. With hardly anytime to react, Finnan gambled to get the monster to release Lyria and attempted to superheat her own armor to force a reflex drop, but unfortunately it did not work. I decided that the best chance for survival would be to continue with the plan to launch a fireball, and thus I did. I’m pretty certain this briefly knocked Lyria unconscious, but I’m convinced she would have died had I not done this. With the flames beginning to engulf it, Aeif, Agnes, and Berien focused on attacking it to free Lyria from its grasp. All did their part, but it was Agnes with her Lightbringer who managed to maneuver underneath and carve a large swathe through the underside of it, felling it. Lyria tumbled free, but we were all deeply concerned as she appeared lifeless. 

The other beast redoubled its efforts and sought to grasp Agnes. I screamed out as I saw the fearsome jaws clasp down on her. In a panic I used a mindspike spell, but though i’m sure I gave the beast a mighty headache, I could not force the release. Aeif wailed upon the beast and Finnan used his arcane talents to spark life to Lyria. Lyria recovered enough to reach for her bow and loose an arrow, but it was Berien who shined most in this moment as he carefully placed a shot that went into the beast’s neck and partially exited through to the other side. Blood spurted out and the mounds of muscle went limp. Berien indeed had saved the day. My mind was fogged over as many emotions tried to occupy my thoughtspace: anger, fear, excitement, elation. 

When the beast fell, the crowd roared a mighty roar, as defeating as the monsters we slew. Before I could take in what we had just managed though, Agnes came rushing toward me, golden hair flowing behind in the wind. In an instant she was embracing me and her lips met mine with an intensity matching the light of Lathander. I find myself struggling to believe that it truly happened, but the sense of ecstasy permeates my very soul. I do hope this is the start of something special between us. 

We collected ourselves and were rewarded with the prize of 1000 gold pieces—a smaller sum than I hoped to be honest. Lyria immediately began insisting that she receive a larger portion of the pot, but I refused her at this time, noting that we can discuss it later when the adrenaline dies down. Now was the time to get ready to observe the grand graduation ceremony.