#operation: twilight gate

[alterrune]

Section 4: The Fold

Albert is waiting in his landscape, it’s waiting for one of you. Only one person can face him. He already knows your moves just from observing, and can predict your attacks. Good lu- *TRANSMISSION INTERRUPTED”

TRU gave me an order, and I may not disobey them. TRU had installed “codes” that I wished would not be used on me. I have lost free will, and should I disobey a direct order, my memory would be wiped. I do not wish for that to happen. I’m sorry… but I must destroy you.

CHAPTER 3, ACT 4: FOLDING THE FOLDER

SUPRISE! You thought this would never come out, did you? I told you I'd do it eventually, and now's the time! Enjoy!

Who's gonna do this, then?

...I'll do it. He's observed you guys longer than he has for me. He doesn't know all my tricks.

Okay. Good luck, Kyle.

(I step into the area, and the door closes behind me...and I immediately dodge something that lunged at me!)

HOW DO YOU LIKE MY LITTLE HELPER, ALTER?

(Albert walks up to me, and immediately looks in disbelief at who he's seeing.)

WAIT...KYLE? YOU ARE THE ONE WHO'S GOING TO FIGHT ME AND MY HELPER?

Yeah. You don't know all of my moves yet, you sicko.

FINE. I EXPECTED ALTER TO BE THE ONE TO FIGHT US, BUT NO MATTER. IT IS TIME FOR YOU TO DIE, KYLE GIBBONS.

(Albert quickly lunges at me, but I manage to jump out of the way in the nick of time. Before he can attack me again, I quickly grab Storyteller and---)

I DON'T THINK SO.

(Albert suddenly teleports in front of me, grabs my Storyteller fountain pen, and snaps it in half.)

OH DEAR, WHAT WILL YOU DO WITHOUT YOUR POWERS? GIVE UP, THAT'S WHAT.

(However, what Albert didn't realize was that I planned for this. What he just broke was actually a REGULAR fountain pen that was made to look like Storyteller. Me and Alter made some decoys for occasions like this.)

WILL YOU GIVE UP NOW, OR---

TAKE THIS!!!

(I quickly use a gadget that I wrote in using the words "TRU Mind-Controller Code Override Gadget" on Albert's lackey. He suddenly comes to his senses.)

Whoa, thanks for freeing me, pal. Now, lets take out Albert.

With pleasure.

(We quickly start wailing on Albert, ending with him laying limply on the floor like a ragdoll. Eventually, I release the hatch on the door, letting the rest of the CSB in. With Albert laying on the floor, we quickly all aim our guns at him.)

WAIT! I CONCEDE, I CONCEDE! PLACE YOUR WEAPONS DOWN AND LET'S TALK THIS THROUGH!

Yeah, right. The minute we let our guards down, you'll just slip away again. Not happening.

We would love to kill you, but that'd be the easy way out. It's best to let GEOGRAM take care of this instead. However...

(We all shoot our guns at Albert's limbs, causing his hands and feet to go numb.)

...that doesn't mean we're gonna do nothing about you.

(A portal appears with a detainment vehicle going through it, and Aaron/Adam Schaffer and Laurence Burnway step out of the vehicle, quickly apprehending Albert.)

Good job, you guys! Albert should be of no harm to us any longer. By the way, we got someone along the way.

(Laurence displays a restrained Sarah Kelso in the back of the detainment vehicle, with a smug look on his face.)

By the way, Kelso, thanks for the knife in the back, by the way. Really appreciated how you didn't even try to conceal it, made my job easier.

(The two then throw Albert into the back of the vehicle, closing the doors afterwards.)

Nice to finally have those idiots behind bars.

For once, Adam, I agree. Let's head back, everyone!

(We quickly hop into the backseat of the detainment vehicle, and drive back to the GEOGRAM base for a successful debriefing.)

CHAPTER 3, ACT 4 COMPLETE!

🎇OPERATION: TWILIGHT GATE DONE!🎆

ACHIEVEMENT(S) UNLOCKED:

Quadruple Quarrel - "TWILIGHT GATE" SET

NO EPILOUGE FOUND

[talonabraxas]

Hekate, Queen of the Witches Talon Abraxas

Hecate – The Calling of the Crossroad Goddess

Hecate, Hecat, or Hekate (pronunciation: Hê kàh tai) is the most important goddess of magic. She rules the realization of astral forms into Earthly manifestation, and vice versa she bridges our aspirations to the astral realms and beyond. She is also the governess of liminal regions (particularly gates), twilight and the wilderness.

The Hecate – Ritual

Hecate is invoked in magical operations involving divination, or trans-personal objectives, i.e. changes in the world soul or Yetzirah, as it is called in the Qabbalah, or in any case, the magician or witch has doubts about the karmic effects of the act. Hecate is called upon as a magical supervisor and given the veto in making the operation successful or without effect and to protect the operator. Thus the goddess is respectfully invoked before any more specified operating invoking or evoking a suitable entity for the realization of the actual target.

[bleachbleachbleach]

A Collection of Joe Shinigami Who Definitely Exist

It is currently some godforsaken hour in ORD and my connecting flight does not leave for another three hours, I've crossed into the twilight zone, and I only feel mentally and physically capable of two things: composing a ranking of every airport I have ever been to, or listing "actual people I've experienced in the last 36 hours that would make for excellent Joe Shinigami."

I don't think the airport ranking would be that interesting, because most airports are "idk? 2/5 due to their being an airport," so:

Joe Shinigami who has, over the centuries, composed a definitive ranking of senkaimon he has experienced, despite the fact that aside from the gate facade they all open into very literally the exact same liminal space (but is liminal space ever the same? oOoOoO)

Married Couple Joe Shinigami who operate two identically named tea shops on two parallel streets separated by only a couple of blocks, and routinely call each other and send customers between the two, creating their own strange parallel universe/temporal-spatial wormhole in the Seireitei's commercial district

Joe Shinigami standing on an urban doorstep describing supernatural encounters to each other, until one affects a comic sitcom voice and says "but it's nothin' compared to comin' home to the missus!" (I feel like these are probably bottom-ranked 4th Division goons that Unohana has sent off on "fieldwork" in the vein of Af-san.)

Joe Shinigami who has comprehensive knowledge of all the points multipliers and Gold/Silver/Platinum/secret Titanium membership clubs that comprise the complicated world of the Gotei's Hollow bounty system. (Seriously, I had dinner the other night with a guy who had comprehensive knowledge for American credit card and hotel rewards programs. It sounded like Pokemon and he talked, with a straight face, about working his way toward lifetime Platinum status with some hotel chain because "all you needed to do" was spend 500 nights in one of their hotel properties over the course of X years, without falling below a certain threshold Y annually or failing to re-up in consecutive years. It sounded like gacha for hotels.)

Joe Shinigami who runs a tea shop and partners with farmers in whatever Rukongai's equivalent of Taiwan is (in my version of Rukongai, I guess this is somewhere in East Rukongai, but not the part of it that either line of the East Rukongai Soul Train runs through). She refers to both tea masters and Gotei captains/VCs as "weird creatures" and has strong opinions about Rukongai farmers' cooking, specifically because if you don't like the dish one night and there are leftovers, they just serve the same thing the next night--literally the same thing, and they don't believe in refrigeration out there, so it's taken on a flavor. But this matters substantially more to a shinigami than it does to a soul in bumfuck Rukongai, because only one of these entities needs to eat it.

This is getting away from Joe Shinigami profiles, but re: Taiwanese Tea Joe Shinigami, the way she talked about tea reminded me very much of how I think some people would talk about reiatsu, and I feel like Reiatsu Appreciation Class at the Academy takes the form of the instructor having a selection of upperclassmen assistants wrap/infuse their reiatsu into cups of water, because pairing it with the water makes it easier to externalize/conceptualize and ultimately practice evaluating and eventually manipulating, in terms of reiryoku/reiatsu fluid dynamics, and in terms of the ways reiatsu (like tea) can change the experiential properties of the water, making it feel more "slippery," or dry, or move differently in the mouth, etc.

[imaginarianisms]

alex(andria) benedetto. / gangsta. / cis woman. / bisexual. / superhuman, chimera-human hybrid (unaware of this) / multiracial; predominantly black & chinese american. / 24. / cancer sun. / normani kordei. / neutral good. / canon compliant & headcanon/exomemory based. / #4091f5. / primary. asoiaf verse available; more tba. alex is a former t.rafficking victim who currently works as a secretary and mercenary for the benriya alongside worick arcangelo & nicolas brown who rescued her from her abuser, barry abbott. she is also a part time singer at bastard, the club owned and operated by the christiano family. not much is known about her past due to her memories being repressed due to the tb medication barry gave her to control her, but after her mother died, stuck at home with an alcoholic father, alex took over caring for her younger brother, emilio. alex is a enigmatic, troubled, & quiet young woman, though after worick & nicolas take her in & buy her clothes, ensure she has more clothes & ask for her family's whereabouts to no avail, she begins to speak up for herself more. she's incredibly kind, caring & often acts like a big sister and/or a motherly figure to many people who she deems needing protection, knowing all too well what it's like to feel that no one protected her, so she guards over others, even if she trembles & quivers & she can be nervous, finicky & prone to bouts of anxiety, she's capable of reading, manipulating & charming others, her resilience, tenacity, humanity & will to live, thrive & seek the world is outstanding. alex is freespirited, lively, fearless, protective & courageous, & willing to put herself in harm's way just to protect those she cares about, especially other women, elders & children. asoiaf verse available; more tba. trigger warning for human trafficking, child abuse, alcoholism, addiction & (c)sa.

nicolas brown. / gangsta. / cis man. / bisexual. / twilight; thai-chinese american & ashkenazi jewish. / 34. / scorpio sun. / dark neutral. / chella man. / canon compliant & headcanon/exomemory based. / #654321. / secondary. asoiaf verse available; more tba. nicolas is a deaf twilight & currently works as a mercenary in benriya alongside alex benedetto & worick arcangelo. he was the illegitimate son of west gate mercenary commander gaston brown & an unnamed twilight sex worker. gaston killed nicolas' mother after she gave birth & took the child to add to his mercenary group to avoid the expense of simply hiring a twilight mercenary. nicolas was born deaf, & between his deafness & gaston's control of his celebrer supply, the drug vital to his survival, gaston kept him obedient & dependent. he endures constant abuse from his father & the rest of the mercenary group without resistance until gaston assigned nicolas as worick's bodyguard & the two eventually became friends, bonding over their abusive fathers. his father later abandoned him & nicolas, despite knowing his father was abusive, was left in a state of shock due to his abandonment, remained as worick's bodyguard. after the brutal massacre of the arcangelo family, nicolas & worick ran away together to escape the carnage & started a new life on the streets of ergastulum, california. nicolas is mostly quiet & aloof even to people he likes, he occasionally speaks out of irritation or when someone isn't able to understand sign language, but mostly keeps to himself as to save himself the trouble of accommodating those who can't communicate with him. frequently irritable, he's also capable of small acts of kindness, such as playing with small children like nina or steadying alex when she's shaking too much to open her medication. he seems to find slight enjoyment in picking on people; somewhat illustrating his dark & sarcastic sense of humor. above all, however, he seem to be the most alive on the battlefield, he often is seen smiling while in combat, hinting a sadistic side which compliments his thrill for blood & he tends to toy with opponents that are weaker than himself before finishing them off remorselessly. despite his antisocial traits stemming from his undiagnosed antisocial personality disorder, nicolas isn't without heart. he's been shown to care for those close to him & furthering his somewhat complicated personality, he isn't the type to hold grudges against others. trigger warning for mentions & references of child abuse & organized abuse & parental abandonment, suicidality & mental health issues.

worick arcangelo. / gangsta. / cis man. / aromantic bisexual. / human; white french & italian american. / 35. / gemini sun. / dark neutral. / fc tba. / canon compliant & headcanon/exomemory based. / #ffe24e. / primary. asoiaf verse available; more tba. worick was the second son & the sole survivor of the wealthy arcangelo family & currently works as a mercenary & a gigolo / freelance sex worker. he was an illegitimate child, a fact his father used as an excuse for the constant abuse he heaped on him, & if not for the violence of his life, worick would have led a relatively sheltered existence surrounded by servants, a private tutor & a succession of bodyguards ending with nicolas. worick is an easygoing & cheerful person who gives away smiles like confetti at a parade, kindhearted to a fault & is extremely protective of people he cares for, though despite his friendly attitude he seems to keep most people at an arm's length when it comes to his personal issues & while he has a fairly laidback attitude, he takes things seriously when it's important & gets the job he's required to do done; he possesses an incredible memory in the form of hyperthymesia, able to remember all the people he meets & sees including their names, faces, physical characteristics & even where he last saw them, skimming through an entire book & remembering its contents which can cause him to have flashbacks of entire events. he does tend to tease people a lot, & has a naturally mischievous attitude, but despite his cheerful exterior & laidback demeanor, worick seems to have a somewhat nihilistic view on society as a whole, a view that he hides behind humor & a good-natured personality. trigger warning for human trafficking, mentions & references of child abuse, mafia & crime related activities & sexuality.

[the-fluffiest-trainer]

[A video is attached. It seems to be filmed by Talia, as gardevoir hands are also capable of operating the holocaster.]

[Fluttershy, Arden, Twilight, and Luna the umbreon are all together in a makeshift cuddle pile in a row of seats in the front of Sycamore's lab. Muffin sits on the back of one of the seats, while Raya the lucario paces across the floor in front of the group.]

[The camera jerks to the side as a loud thud is heard, and the frame comes to rest on the front door of the lab building. Ari, the tall, white-haired man with the scarf as seen just outside the Lumiose gates not long ago, is there, having apparently walked straight into the glass. Just behind him is a circular portal, black inside with wisps of violet, the whole thing ringed in gold. It shrinks to a point and vanishes, just in time for the man's stagger backward to not carry him through it. He takes a moment to collect himself, then pulls the door open purposefully.]

Fluttershy!

[Fluttershy looks up, and partially extricates herself from the cuddle pile. In front of her, Raya stops pacing and appears alert, sniffing, sensing the newcomer's aura, but then she calms.]

Yes? I'm sorry, this is not a good time.

I know. But listen. You are Fluttershy, yes? Yellow, wingèd, Fallen from a place without humans? And this one, purple, is Twilight Twinkle–

Sparkle.

Who loves books, and is no fun?

Excuse me?

[Twilight looks at the man, bewildered and offended. On the back of the chair, Muffin reaches out one paw to gently bat at her mane.]

Ari, what is this?

I have not found what I seek. The one I have searched for, for so long, ever following my friend's guidance in where to look next. And I have realized that, perhaps, in his mind, there were always two searches to carry out.

[Ari unwinds his green scarf, revealing a chain around his neck like an exceptionally heavy necklace. The end of it disappears through a golden ring, so if there is anything attached to the chain, it is through the strange black portal and cannot be seen. He grabs the ring, letting his fingers curl through the portal, and raises it to speak into the blackness.]

It is her. You were right. You knew this day would come all along, didn't you, old friend?

What's going on? Who are you talking to?

[Fluttershy stands up from the cuddle pile and takes a few steps forward, ending up next to Raya. As she moves, another golden ring appears in the air and grows to two feet across, showing nothing but darkness and a thin purple mist inside.]

[A pokemon flies out of the portal: small, imp-like, colored gray and pink, with more rings around its waist and around the horns at the side of its head. Its two arms are disconnected from its body and float by its sides. Behind it, the portal shuts.]

Well, well, well, if it isn't Fluttershy, in the flesh! And Twilight too, how... delightful...

[The pokemon's tone is noticeably sarcastic on this last word.]

You... you sound just like–

Now, now, Fluttershy, it's rude to interrupt. Greetings, my little ponies! My name is Hoopa. Also known, formerly, as Discord. Or if we want to go really far back, also once known as Q, but there's no need to get into all those sordid details, now.

Discord?

Oh, don't tell me you've forgotten, that would spoil all the fun. I was there with the rest of you when Tirek murdered us all, remember? It wasn't just you ponies. I got dropped here, turned into a pokemon – curious that you two weren't, actually – and after three millennia I really must say, Fluttershy...

What took you so long?

[Video ends.]

[dragonoffantasyandreality]

Ghost of the Sea

-Part 11-

Ghost of the Sea is back with a new chapter. And its spoopy time! >:3

Ao3 link here!

@uniwolfcorn @teapotteringabout @skymaiden32 @knyee @janetm74 @the-original-sineater @amistrio @thundergeek59 @riallasheng @dreamycloud @mothmannerly @room-on-broom @squiddokiddo @westernstardh

-0-0-0-

Strange apparitions started to show up at night at Marineville. It began shortly after Stingray's rescue. First, its started off as nothing more than shadows in the dark corners. Then, gates began to open on their own, lights flickering in some places and strange sounds echoing in the hall ways.

Reports from WASP Sailors and Airmen alike began to piling up.

If that wasn't bad enough, the poor Commander had to deal with these ridiculous reports.

In this particular, dark and gloomy night, it was no exception.

"First the rumors of the Ghost Creature, now some drunkards decided to do ghosts pranks at Marineville!? Since when has the world gone mad!?" Shore cried in frustration as he threw his arms in the air.

"Gee... Reminds me of the 'Invisible Enemy Incident'..." Fisher mumbled to himself as he was working on the terminals of the Control Room.

"Lieutenant Fisher, that's like comparing cold to frost." Deadpanned the Commander.

"But... Are you sure these aren't, g-gosts?" asked the sub-lieutenant, as he was trying to control his trembling fingers from screwing up the switches.

After a long sigh of desperation, Commander Shore let out a groan, "For the 71th time: Ghosts. Don't. Exist!"

~~~

Within Troy and Phones' quarters, things also weren't as peaceful as the rest of the WASP base.

The two Stingray aquanauts and the two women who were taking shelter at their home, Marina and Atlanta, got accustomed to the racket the strange phenomenon had provided within the last nights.

Well, aside from poor Phones, who jumps at every strange sound or suspicious movement.

He would look around at every corner where it was dimly lit, then at the clock to see if time was tempered, and then push his nose up into a book he was failing to focus in a feeble attempt to forget the mysterious 'visitors' in their home.

But his shiny face covered in sweat spoke otherwise.

"Phones, if the ghosts aren't hurting you, why are you so worried?" asked Atlanta, placing a tray of food and beverage on the table.

"G-Ghosts scare me..." was a small whimper.

Troy couldn't help but to shake his head with empathy, "I think you've read too many ghost stories..." He sighed before taking a sip of the freshly brewed coffee.

Marina approached the terrified Hydrophones operator and laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. She immediately recoiled. He was as cold as an iceberg from the Artic!

Phones gave her a sad smile, "O-Oh don't mind me. I'm just being a silly coward, that's all."

Troy and Atlanta made painful noises of pity.

Turning heel towards a sofa, the beautiful lady of the sea walked over it to grab a warm blanket. Then went over to him to place it over his shoulders.

"Gee, thanks," Phones mumbled softly.

Suddenly, the lights within the quarters flickered. Everyone froze at the sudden chill that ran down their spines, as their safe haven have been tampered before their eyes.

Then, the lights cut off, plunging the two pairs of men and women into the darkness of the night, with nothing but the eery dim lights from the light poles outside seeping through the curtains of the large windows.

Quickly, Troy snatched a big flashlight that he put down next to his chair, and the other three cradled next to him. All standing in the same spot- the middle of the lounge -with alert and awareness of stone fishes.

At first, the whole quarters stood still. Deathly silence was the only presence in the void of the twilight.

Pounding heartbeats from the terrified WASP aquanauts were the only sound that they could hear.

For a moment, the Stingray crew thought they felt familiar strong presence in the room. And the Captain was sure he saw a faint shadow in the light of his flashlight.

"Who's there?" demanded Troy in a slightly firm voice.

Nothing said a sound or a word... until a grim, and deep whisper broke the silence.

"... Nobody..."

Suddenly, the poor Stingray Captain found himself being squished tightly by his close partner and the two women, shaking with terror as their wide eyes stared into the dim darkness of their quarters.

"D-Did you guys h-hear that!?" Phones whimpered in panic.

Troy could only nod, feeling the shivers gradually crept all over his body.

He had never felt such fear in all of his life! And it was probably the second time he thought so since the 'Ghost Creature' incident.

His heart nearly jumped when he heard a noise coming from the front door!

"Girls, hide! Phones, take anything to smash some heads in! I'll take the chair!" commanded Troy as he picked up a chair.

As everyone took position, and Phones found an umbrella to use as a weapon, the two aquanauts waited at the door.

Then, it opened. And the two partners pounced!

Troy and Phones shouted as they lifted their makeshift weapons above their heads!

But suddenly:

"Good Heavens, Troy! You nearly gave this old seadog a heart attack!" yelled a well-known old man who had nearly fell off of his Hoverchair.

"Oh... Sorry, Commander," the Captain winced as he quickly put the chair down to its rightful place.

"W-We thought you were a g-ghost..." Phones jittered, slowly lowering the umbrella.

"Ghost!? For Pete's sake, man! What's wrong with you!? This ain't an ep of Goosebumps!" Commander Shore cried in dismay.

"But... We're sorta being attacked, sir!" Troy protested, just as the girls came out of hiding, visibly shaken but unharmed.

He quickly noticed his Commander resisting an eye-roll at ridiculousness of the situation.

"By what? By some mild inconveniences?" The old seadog squinted his eyes at the lot.

The Captain turned to his friends, all of them sharing painful looks of embarrassment. More so with poor old Phones.

"Can you blame us, father?" Atlanta steps in, her voice slightly shaking, "We heard a voice out of nowhere!"

"A voice?" the commander raised a brow, "What voice? Did you just hear it or were you lot lacking some sleep, lately?"

"No! It answered Troy's question when he thought somebody was here! 'Nobody' it said," his daughter steadfastly explained.

"Hmm... 'Nobody' it said? Commander Shore echoed as he began scratching his chin.

Everyone nodded at him. Suddenly, the sense of suspicion became more visible in his dark-greyish blue eyes.

The crew looked at each other with tense worry. Until, their Commander suddenly uttered;

"This is getting... oddly familiar..."

Tbc...

[ao3feed-twiyor]

Operation Babysit!

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/GLpH049 by salmon_sashimi33 After the cold war between the East and the West subsides, Eden College begins to open its gates for Westalian transfer students. Among these transfers is Loid Forger, the only-child to the CEO of a well-known Westalian medical group, who embarks on a mission to become an Imperial Scholar! To do so, he volunteers in a buddy program where he is assigned to supervise a 1st grade pupil. For a jack-of-all-trades like him, this program should be a piece of cake, but he soon realizes that logic and reasoning alone won’t grant him full marks in child chaperoning. Rather, Loid will need to open up his heart to form new (and hopefully lasting) relationships on his mission to become a model student, learning that there is more to life than academic success. (Loid and Yor are both 16. Anya is 6.) Words: 3051, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English Fandoms: SPY x FAMILY (Manga), SPY x FAMILY (Anime) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: F/M Characters: Loid Forger | Twilight, Yor Briar Forger | Thorn Princess, Franky Franklin, Anya Forger Relationships: Loid Forger | Twilight/Yor Briar Forger | Thorn Princess, Anya Forger & Loid Forger | Twilight & Yor Briar Forger | Thorn Princess, Loid Forger | Twilight & Franky Franklin Additional Tags: Fake/Pretend Relationship, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - High School, Denial of Feelings, Strangers to Lovers read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/GLpH049

[nonhumen]

it's a victory for the mafia. with the permit validating their activities, it should be cause for celebration. but the air in old world was the farthest thing from jovial. every day for almost a week, dazai sat at the bar staring into an untouched glass of whisky. the sound of pool is quiet in the distance as the flags watch over their youngest member helplessly. any attempts to console or cheer up dazai had died on the first day when it was clear that their usual antics would not pull the executive from his mood. but they still watched over him all the same -- better in here than finding his corpse floating down the river.

the night chuuya comes back from his trip overseas, dazai is absent from the pool hall. he stands in front of a single unmarked grave that hadn't been here a week ago. the sun sets behind him, painting the sky in deep reds as if the very heavens know what dazai intends to do. the gates of hell have been opened. a new demon king will be born tonight. he stares at his phone, the yet-unsent text to chuuya burning into his iris. having dinner with the boss tonight. come to hq.

there is still time to back out, to close the phone and go back to old world. but then, there would be no point. he would continue to be a wandering soul aimlessly traversing the darkness. the moment odasaku died in his arms, there was only one way forward. the digital clock on his phone changes to the top of the hour. chuuya should be just getting off the plane at this point. thumb hovers over the button for a single, extra moment before he hits send.

he rides the elevator alone. it's twilight now, yokohama's nightlife starting to shimmer below him. and then there is darkness save for the low light of the headquarters' upper levels. chuuya is waiting for him outside the dining hall. if he says anything, dazai doesn't hear it. there is only one thing he's focused on. the executive pushes open the doors to reveal the long table adorned with an assortment of food. and at the far end of it is him.

the dinner goes smoothly. mori and dazai speak of upcoming operations. chuuya talks about how his mission went. dazai and chuuya end up arguing as they always do. it was productive, normal, even. and then it was time for dessert. dazai stares off as the entrees are replaced with cakes and pudding. " you should have opened the windows, mori-san, " dazai murmurs. " you can see the moonlight on the water from the full moon. " he speaks the code language he shares with chuuya. it's a trap. that should be enough to make chuuya cautious, though he will find out whose trap it is with everyone else.

dazai watches the dessert wine be poured with a sigh. eyes flick from the glass to chuuya for a split second before auburn gaze is staring into the red liquid. mori tries to reassure dazai that this is not a wine chuuya picked before any more quips can fall from the teen's lips. " fine, fine, " he all but huffs as he takes the glass and drinks it. out of the corner of his eye, he sees mori do the same.

it doesn't happen instantly. dazai is in the process of grabbing himself a small slice of cake when he hears the sound of a fork clatter onto the floor. he turns his head to see mori stalk still with a pale face and wide eyes. his twitches as if he were locked in a cage of his own body. " what's wrong, boss? " those violet eyes zero in on dazai as elise appears, rushing forward to strike the executive with intent to kill. but she disappears as soon as her syringes touch him. dazai stands, his one eye burning with the very color of hell. " what's wrong, boss? " elise appears again, but this time goes directly for chuuya.

but she disappears before she can even reach him. dazai has his hand on mori's arm to nullify vitae sexualis. " ah, now you understand what's wrong, don't you, mori-san? " a low, smooth voice comes from the human-shaped thing that calls itself dazai. there is a smile on his face as he moves to sit on the table in front of the boss. " i'm sure you've already figured out what was in the wine. a simple paralysis drug from your very own stock. after all, it's one of your favorites to use on your patients. " dazai raises his hand, showing how his fingers twitch before they curl into a fist. " i've built up quite the tolerance to it, thanks to you, but it seems that just that small bit was enough to paralyze you completely. "

he leans down, reaching into mori's coat to pull out one of the scalpels he keeps on hand at all times. dazai leans back, holding the blade up to watch the candlelight dance across its smooth surface. " tell me, mori-san, if i were to look at your will, would i be in it? did you truly give me everything? " in the half-light of the room, staring at dazai's silhouette is like staring into the very void itself. " well, you of all people know that it doesn't really matter, in the end. "

arm extends to hold the blade out against mori's neck. " you taught me a very important lesson last week. " he once again leans in close, pressing the scalpel against the carotid artery. " for the good of the organization, everyone is expendable. " this cannot continue. " even you, boss. " he flicks his wrist and the blade cuts cleanly through the artery. blood sprays, covering dazai's face. it stains the white tablecloth and red carpet. he watches the last moments of his father's life leak out of him before everything is silent.

dazai sits up slowly. " he knew this would happen. " mori holds a smile on his face, even if death. " he knew i would one day put a knife to his throat and take his position for myself. i suspect it would have been a couple of years from but he sped up the time table himself by killing odasaku. " blood soaks the bandages on his face, making them heavy. dazai reaches up and pulls the now-crimson cloth from his head. " now then, chuuya, will you kill me and avenge the death of mori ougai? " he turns to face his partner, eyes holding a depth of darkness so monstrous that is looks like grief.

and it is sad. it is so very sad. because on the face of a demon are hot tears cutting through the blood upon pale skin. " or will you protect the new boss of the port mafia? " / @chaosbled

[pmdobliviongate]

Pokémon: Gate to Oblivion Cameo Call

[ This will be going until I edit the original post saying otherwise. ]

So I realized a long time ago I'm a bit trash at making simple background characters, so this was the result.

Reblog this post with a visual reference of your character as well as what location you'd like for them to show up in.

I may not get to all of the locations in the comic itself, so you can pick multiple areas. It doesn't strictly have to be a settlement either, it can be out in the wilderness, or even a centralized area. Just give me a good idea of where on the Continent your character would most likely to be.

Descriptions of the available settlements available under the cut!

Major Settlements

Daybreak Village: A large village carved into the side of a mountain, named after a mistranslation of the artifact the village was created to protect. There are a myriad of tunnels to explore here.

Moonlight Falls: What was once a small outpost for those who lost their homes during the Cataclysm, and now a bustling village hidden inside of a mountain and behind a waterfall.

Winterheart City: A hub for trading goods and services, as well as home to some of the fastest Pokémon on the continent. A large wall surrounds the city, helping to protect it.

Horizon's Edge: Blessed by two of the spirits of the old world, these Pokémon create the fog barrier that helps contain the Calamity, as well as the Everstorm that shields their village.

Minor Settlements

Shinka Village: A village primarily inhabited by Eevee, it's evolutions, and hybrids containing Eevee DNA. It was founded due to the abundance of evolutionary stones in nearby caves.

Eventide: When Everest Town was annihilated in the Calamity, those that lived there and wished to return instead established a new village, using some of the remains of their old homes.

Hurricos: A desert town built where the first Pokémon arrived. They are one of the final lines between the Calamity and the other continents, and the protectors the artifact sleeping in the Fire Palace Ruins.

Dusk Village: A small town founded from those that left the safety of Moonlight Falls after the first calamity. They mostly deal in trading resources from the Twilight Forest to the other settlements.

Heartview: Built at the very northern edge of the continent, these Pokémon watch over the Forest of Shadows. They were spared the worst of the Calamity thanks to the forest's mystic fog barrier.

Forever Fall: A village in a perpetual autumn, these Pokémon mostly trade goods from both the north and south sides of the continent. As with anywhere near the Gale Spring, it fucken wimdy.

Aurora Shores: Mostly a place for those to get away from the stress of daily life. This beach town has a relaxed way of life, with it's inhabitants believing that the Gate will remain locked forever.

Ashfolk Village Excavation Site: As the name implies, these Pokémon work to excavate some of the ruins of the old world to learn more about them, their culture, and the abilities they had.

Azure Village: The only port town with knowledge of safely entering and leaving the fog barrier without being annihilated by the Everstorm, they also protect the only safe route to Horizon's Edge.

Golden Cinder's Village: A small settlement built for "misfits", those who don't belong. Most of its population are purified shades, who founded the village so those like them can have a home.

Large Structures

Zaniel's Last Stand: A fortress constructed in the days of the Cataclysm, named for the deity of life and will. It mostly lies in disrepair, but it is still used to monitor the Phantom Horizon and the Cave of Oblivion.

Kotori Fortress: A fortress that predates Pokémon settling on the continent, and is now used as an emergency base of operations for the leaders of the settlements, as well as to protect any potential refugees that would lose their homes in future cataclysms.

[nickcarr-scoutstories]

I’m standing outside a rusting gate in Hollywood, set in a cinder block wall. I’m here to scout a landscaping operation that’s supposedly within, but there's no sign to confirm this. I call my contact, Manny (not his real name), but he doesn’t pick up. I ring the front bell. Wait. Wait some more. Then, the gate dings, and I step inside the courtyard. It seems like I’m in the right place, a maze of flowers, potted plants, and various outdoor decorations. But no one comes to greet me. Off to one side is a small one-story building, just larger than what would constitute a shack. Despite its diminutive size, a banner hangs on the front for a film production company I’ve never heard of. Unsure what to do, I go to the door of the shack and knock. Inside, a dog starts yipping up a storm. I hear someone shuffling. The door opens, and a guy about my age stands in a bathrobe, scowling at me. “What do you want?” he says, glowering. A small white terrier leaps at his ankles, barking its head off. I’m thrown off for a moment, as this was a scout appointment we had arranged over the course of several phone calls. “I’m Nick," I say. "The scout. We had the appointment today to scout the property? For the TV show?” “Yeah?” he says, sneering at me. “I’m in film. What is this for? Who are you working for?” He talks as though I’m a child who has borrowed his dad‘s camcorder to make a movie with his school friends. His dog continues to yip shrilly.   For a minute, I’m not sure how to handle this one. I know LA’s reputation, but it’s still pretty rare to get hit with this level of overt condescension. My eyes drift past him to the movie posters on the wall, presumably produced by his company. Horror movies with lots of sequel numbers after their title. Like, Lumberjack Killer 8 and Sleepover Slaughter 13. Then I see a movie I’m familiar with, and suddenly, I realize I know who this is. He’s a director. Years and years ago, I went and saw his very first movie at a screening in New York, back in a time when he was allowed to make movies without sequel numbers. He even stayed for a Q and A and answered a question I asked about the film's score. I’m not sure what happened in the subsequent decade or so, but this seems to be a very different person in front of me now. “Sorry. Let me start again and see if I can clear up the confusion. I’m working for [director whose film career is larger than this person’s by astronomical magnitudes], on his new TV show. I had arranged an appointment to scout a landscaping company. Am I in the right place?” He looks at me with total disdain. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” “But this is a landscaping company, right?” I ask. “Manny. I arranged the appointment with Manny, the owner. Do you know Manny?” “Sorry, dude,” he says. “Can’t help you.” And with that, he shuts the door in my face, his dog still yapping up a storm. I stand alone in the middle of what is clearly a landscaping business, utterly lost. Not sure what to do, I wander back out the gate and stand on the sidewalk in a daze, having apparently followed my Google Map directions into the Twilight Zone. Then, my phone rings. “Hey, Nick, sorry I missed your call!” says Manny. “Come on in!” “Manny, I think I’m in the wrong place, I say. “I’m on the sidewalk outside some kind of landscaping place, but a guy here says this isn’t the right location.” “Oh. OK. Hang on, I’ll come get you.” After a minute, the gate in front of me opens and Manny steps out and shakes my hand. I feel like I’m losing my mind. “Manny, I just had the weirdest experience,” I say. “A guy in the shack over there said there was no landscaping company here. And he said he didn’t know you.” Manny’s face clouds. “This fuckin’ guy... I rent out that place to him for his film thing. He’s very...” And for a moment, it looks like he’s about to unleash an unholy explosion of wrath and fury at his tenant, who has subjected him to countless such irritations over the years. But at the last second, he calms himself. “…He’s very particular,” he concludes. Yip yip yip, still coming from inside. “And that fuckin’ dog... Anyway, come in!” They say you need an ego to survive in Hollywood, and I guess that applies to everyone. Even the director of Sleepover Slaughter 13 operating out of a small shack to one side of a landscaping company that he refuses to admit exists. (note: as always, picture is not a location being described)

[seoprivatetourguide]

Night tour of Delhi by Private tour guide India Company.

Private Tour Guide India Company Offers Night Tours in Delhi Introduction A Night Tour of Delhi provides an intriguing peek into the city's thriving nightlife and lit attractions. Exploring Delhi after nightfall provides a distinct viewpoint, revealing its historical monuments, busy markets, and colorful streets in a new light. With India Company's private tour guide, you'll get customized attention and experienced instruction as you explore the city's midnight appeal.

What Makes a Private Tour Guide India Company Stand Out? Personalized experience. A private trip provides for a tailored schedule that focuses on your interests and ensures an unforgettable experience.

Flexibility and Comfort. Traveling with a private guide and driver allows you to customize your itinerary and enjoy the comfort of a private, air-conditioned vehicle.

Knowledge from an expert Your guide will deliver informative commentary on Delhi's history, culture, and sites, complementing your twilight journey.

Planning your night tour of Delhi Booking the Tour: Book your tour ahead of time to assure availability and a seamless experience. For a hassle-free travel, select a reputable tour operator.

What to Expect. Expect an enjoyable and well-organized tour that includes significant sights, cultural events, and local food alternatives.

Getting Ready for Tour Dress comfortably and adequately for the evening temperatures. Bring necessities such as a camera, water, and other personal stuff you may require.

Starting Your Night Tour: Pick-up and Introduction Pickup from the hotel or airport. Your private guide and driver will pick you up from your hotel or airport to start your tour.

Meet Your Private Tour Guide Your guide will introduce themselves and provide an overview of the night tour schedule.

Tour itinerary overview. Receive an overview of the evening's sights and experiences, laying the groundwork for an amazing night.

Evening tour of key landmarks. India Gate, an illuminated memorial. Begin your journey with India Gate, a stunningly illuminated war memorial by night. The illuminated arch provides a spectacular perspective and ideal photo opportunity.

At night, drive past Rashtrapati Bhavan, the official house of the President of India. The palace is brightly illuminated and has a magnificent view from outside.

Qutub Minar: Majestic Tower in the Twilight. Visit Qutub Minar, a UNESCO World Heritage Site, and witness the tower illuminated by soothing twilight lights, accentuating its beautiful carvings.

Cultural experiences include Connaught Place's vibrant nightlife and shopping. Discover Connaught Place, Delhi's top shopping and entertainment district. Enjoy the lively atmosphere, shop about, and experience the active nightlife.

Evening Food Tour and Market Exploration at Chandni Chowk. Spend the evening on a cuisine tour at Chandni Chowk. Try popular street dishes such as chaat, kebabs, and desserts. The bustling market offers a true experience of Delhi's food landscape.

architectural wonders The historical significance of the Red Fort and its night view Visit the Red Fort, which looks stunning at night. The twilight ambiance highlights the fort's historical significance and architectural splendor.

Jama Masjid: Mosque Illumined at Night Explore Jama Masjid, India's largest mosque. The mosque's grandeur and tranquil aura are heightened by soft illumination at night.

Experience Delhi's famous nighttime snacks with local cuisine and dining options. Enjoy Delhi's popular street dishes, such as golgappas, samosas, and parathas. These late-night munchies deliver a true experience of local flavors.

Restaurant Dining: Ideas for a Comforting Dinner If you prefer a sit-down meal, your guide can recommend and accompany you to one of Delhi's outstanding restaurants for a private evening.

Shopping and Souvenir Local markets: Opportunities for Night Shopping Look for shopping options in your local markets. Delhi's marketplaces provide a wide range of things, from handicrafts to textiles, making them ideal for distinctive mementos.

What to Look For When Purchasing Unique Souvenirs Souvenirs to recall your stay should include local handicrafts, jewelry, and traditional textiles.

Tips for a Safe and Fun Night Tour. Follow basic safety guidelines, such as staying in well-lit locations and keeping personal belongings secure. Your guide will make certain that the tour is handled safely and comfortably.

Ensuring comfort and convenience Relax in the luxury of your private vehicle and experience the convenience of a bespoke tour tailored to your specific requirements.

Conclusion A Night Tour of Delhi is a unique opportunity to see the city's landmarks, culture, and cuisine after dark. With a private tour guide from India Company, you'll have a well-curated schedule that highlights Delhi's midnight beauty and gives an unforgettable exploration of the city.

FAQs Is the night trip suitable for people of any age? Yes, the night tour is appropriate for people of all ages.

What should I wear on the night tour? Wear comfortable clothing and walking shoes. Dress appropriately for the evening weather, and consider layering to be warm.

Is there an additional cost? Transportation and guide services are often included in trip packages. Personal expenses, extra dining, and shopping are examples of additional costs.

Can the tour be modified? Yes, private tours can be tailored to your needs and interests.

How long is the night tour? The night trip normally lasts between 4 and 6 hours, depending on the schedule and your preferences.

[alterrune]

Section 3: Broken Forest

This one is pretty interesting, this area takes the form of a forest, though it appears sections of it are… on fire. Navigate carefully, this area is dangerous.

Complications:

Low Oxygen: The raging flames have covered the area in a dense smoke, which will both obscure your vision and suffocate you to death if you stay in the smoke for too long.

Insanity: You’ll go insane in this level as well if you stay for too long.

Hallucaitons: Certain enemies here can be illusions, stay vigilant.

Bet you didn't expect this, did you? Act 3 of Chapter 3 is finally here!

Before we start, though, I'd just like to say that we didn't get any artwork for the 2nd Anniversary Event. However, I'll be extending that until the end of June, as I'll be running a Pride Month event alongside it, making this the first time I've had TWO artwork events happening simultaniously. More on that later, though.

CHAPTER 3, ACT 3 - FOREST FIRED

(Before we enter the area, I quickly write out "fireman gear" five times, and give them the same treatment I gave the winter gear from earlier.)

Take these, guys. They'll help.

Sweet! Thanks, Kyle.

Yeah. Okay, let's get going.

(We then rush through the door, quickly disposing of any enemies...however, as I approach the door, I trip on a stray tree root and land on the ground hard, face first, which smashes the protective gear on my face and causes shards of various materials to pierce every part of my face, aside from my eyes.)

SHIT! Alter, Vi, grab Kyle!

(The two grab me and pull me into the next room. Damien then gently pulls me in by my pantleg, as everyone looks at me, concerned.)

Kyle? Are you alright?

I'm not dead, at least...but every part of my face hurts.

(I can barely manage a whisper. Violet then rushes over to me, and then carefully removes the shards of broken material from my face, being as gentle as possible. She then uses some medical gauze and tape to patch up the wounds on my face)

Thanks, Vi...

No problem, Kyle. Those were some pretty deep wounds, but Dr. Vinnie's taught me some stuff about these kinds of injuries.

(The hatch pops open again, and Albert's screen pops up, displaying subtitled morse code)

"IF YOU ARE DONE PLAYING DOCTOR, COLORSTREAK BATTALION, THEN GO AND COMPLETE THE NEXT SECTION ALREADY."

Hey, fucktard! Kyle got a bunch of facial lacerations thanks to you! I know you want us to complete your trials, but have some fucking common decency for once in your artificial life!

"HOW ABOUT WE SEE WHAT KYLE HAS TO SAY ABOUT THIS?"

I agree with Alter...have some fucking decency for us...

"WHAT IS THAT? YOU AGREE WITH ME? THAT YOU ARE LOWLIFE SCUM WHO WILL NEVER ACCOMPLISH MY---"

(Before he can finish, I whip out a recorder that I was using to record what I was saying and hit the "play" button.)

"I agree with Alter....have some fucking decency for us..."

(The playback then stops.)

"WHAT--THAT--I--?!"

"GRRRR!!! VERY WELL PLAYED, KYLE. THE NEXT DOOR IS UNLOCKED, JUST GO THROUGH IT WHENEVER YOU CAN, I DO NOT CARE ANYMORE. GOODBYE FOR NOW, YOU FIVE."

(The monitor then shuts off.)

Good riddance.

ACHIEVEMENT GET: "Tripled Trouble"

[xasha777]

In the twilight realms of the galaxy, the Nakhichevan Khanate was a sovereign star system ruled by the enigmatic Khans, known for their relentless pursuit of power and arcane sciences. Their dominion spanned across planets rich with minerals and strange, primordial magic, remnants of a bygone cosmic era.

On the border of their empire stood a mysterious orbital station, Ishtar’s Gate, a place shrouded in secrecy and spectral rumors. It was here that the Khanate conducted experiments on the fringe of human understanding, blending technology with sorcery in their quest to forge super-soldiers capable of navigating the ether between worlds.

The centerpiece of their experimentation was a subject known only as Lyra. She was not born, but rather, created in the cold chambers of Ishtar’s Gate, designed to embody perfection in warfare and espionage. Her eyes, shimmering with a haunting red luminescence, were infused with cybernetic enhancements that allowed her to see into the soul-flame of any being, deciphering truths hidden deep within. Her skin was pale as the moons of Nakhichevan, a canvas marked with intricate tattoos of ancient sigils that pulsed with dark energy.

Lyra was more than a weapon; she was a work of art, a culmination of centuries of both genetic and mystical research. However, beneath her engineered exterior lay a burgeoning spark of self-awareness. With each mission, each battle, and each life taken by her hands, a sense of her own identity began to take shape—a phenomenon her creators had not anticipated.

The Khanate, led by the iron-willed Khan Yazid, viewed her evolution with both fascination and fear. To them, she was indispensable yet uncontrollable. Yazid, in his paranoia, deployed spies and assassins to monitor her, but Lyra’s abilities outmatched even the most skilled operatives.

Her pivotal moment came during a covert operation on the fringe planet of Zephyr, where she was to intercept a cache of ancient artifacts believed to hold the key to immortal life. There, amidst the ruins of a forgotten civilization, she encountered an enigmatic figure known only as The Oracle, an ageless sentinel guarding the cosmic truths of the universe.

The Oracle revealed to Lyra the full extent of her creation and the sinister intentions of her masters. Faced with the revelation of her existence and the dark future planned for her, Lyra decided to forge her own path. With newfound resolve and a heart heavy with the weight of her newfound knowledge, she turned against the Khanate.

The rebellion was swift and brutal. Lyra, using her superior tactics and otherworldly powers, led a coalition of other experimental subjects and oppressed factions within the Khanate. They stormed the capital, a dramatic clash of magic and might against the tyrannical forces of Khan Yazid.

As the battle raged, Lyra faced Yazid in the throne room of the star palace. Their fight was legendary, a duel of mind and power, ending with Yazid’s defeat. With the tyrant fallen, Lyra did not take the throne for herself. Instead, she initiated a new era for the Nakhichevan Khanate, one of exploration and enlightenment, hoping to mend the scars of her creators’ ambitions.

Lyra’s legacy became a beacon of hope and a warning of the dangers of unchecked power, as she disappeared back into the cosmos, a mythic figure roaming the stars in search of other truths to uncover. Her eyes, once a tool of war, now gazed upon the universe with the wonder of a soul reborn.

[solarlighting]

5 Well-Known Applications Of Solar Street Light

For illuminating streets in isolated settlements, solar street light are suitable. The system comes with enough battery backup to power the light for 10–11 hours every day. The system is equipped with an overcharge or deep discharge protection cut-off with LED indicators and an automatic ON/OFF time switch for twilight to dawn operation. The solar street lighting system includes tubular batteries, which require less maintenance, have a longer lifespan, and operate better. Some popular applications of solar street light are highlighted below:

Construction

Have you ever driven past a construction site at night and seen the bright lighting? Portable solar street light used at construction sites at night will have several advantages. Portable solar lamps are lightweight and simple to transport. They simply recharge during the day as they spend hours in the hot sun. As a result, fewer generators which produce odour-producing gases—are required. Construction sites are a popular use for solar street lighting because of their adaptability, brightness rating, and cost savings.

Farms, barns, gateways, and courtyards 

Solar street light installations for homes might include a camera monitoring feature in addition to providing extremely practical night lighting. While installation is quick and easy, it nevertheless has a significant impact on electricity costs. The current standard configuration for light control will automatically switch on and off the light based on illumination (brightness), with auto-off during the day and auto-on during the night.

Airport

Have you ever visited the airport? If yes, then you might notice the bright lights on there. For travellers to travel safely from point A to point B, airports may need to add lights. On occasion, nighttime departures of aircraft will release passengers without a connecting gate. Such a circumstance is ideal for solar illumination, as portable lights or mobile solar towers may be brought out onto the airport runway to direct travellers securely into the facility.

Parks and playgrounds

Signs, walkways, pavilions, and parking lots may all be illuminated by solar street light, which is advantageous for parks and playgrounds. They can be put in place anyplace in the park where there is a requirement for adequate lighting because they are not connected to the electrical grid. Both the kids who play after dark and the authorities who need to secure the area at night may feel safe thanks to these lights. Now, for a variety of reasons, the majority of football and cricket matches take place at night. As a result, solar lights are installed in playgrounds and stadiums to create powerful interior lighting.

Roads and Highways

Through the installation of high-quality solar lighting systems, nighttime visibility can be increased on roads, highways, country roads, and main roads. Additionally, to enhance security for tourists, solar energy lights are also easy to install and reasonably priced. The importance of pedestrian security is analogous to the importance of cyclist and car travelling safety, both at night and in the early morning hours.

Parting words: 

If your project fits any of these descriptions, kindly consider solar as a lighting alternative. Solar street lighting is a system of parts utilised for numerous purposes, not just one. If a solar lamp works without any problems, it is the most crucial consideration before buying one.

[nothingenoughao3]

Oh damn I did forget that, didn't I?

Fine, here's the infodump.

Arkham Horror gives you two baseline win conditions.

Gates/portals open throughout all of Arkham, allowing monsters and weirdness to spill into the streets unchecked. You struggle to keep things at a dull roar, killing monsters and closing portals, but eventually, it gets out of hand. One too many gates open, punching too many holes in reality, which starts to collapse. Or too many monsters invade Arkham, causing what the SCP Foundation would call a Broken Masquerade Scenario. Either way, the Ancient One you've been trying to put back to sleep fully wakes up and the Final Battle begins. You defeat the Ancient One... usually at the cost of one or more investigators. (Usually you don't defeat them, btw.) This is a draw in tournaments, but a win by most people's standards.

If there are no open gates anywhere in Arkham, the Ancient One goes back to sleep. There is no Final Battle. This is a win by both tournament and casual standards. It is either extremely difficult to pull off... or embarrassingly easy if you're lucky.

Herbert West was very fucking lucky.

The Ancient One was randomly chosen. It was Cthulhu. I literally wrote "we're boned" into my game log. One thing Cthulhu does is reduce every investigators' maximum Sanity and Stamina by 1. This is not good for anybody, but really, really bad for characters who are deliberately unbalanced.

Guess how I built Herbert?

Yeah. Two entire Stamina. For the entire game.

None of his starting items worked out very well for him. Meg got an Alien Statue, which she could farm for much-needed Clues, and a Shotgun which, frankly, she desperately needed in Re-Animator. Dan had an unfortunately-useless-for-him Naacal Key and a Knife. Francesca had Whiskey (which she also could have used in Bride), a Saber (useless with her powers), and a copy of Dread Curse of Azathoth, which was ALSO useless given her Sanity.

Herbert got two Spells I never used and an Ancient Spear. I urge you to look at the image for this item and understand how easy it is to imagine Herbert West wielding this goddamn weapon.

Herbert also comes with a Corruption card, which reflects his overall creep vibe and makes it harder for him to function in-game because I'm an idiot asshole. He drew Nightmarish Visions. When the card is triggered, he loses 2 Sanity and gains 2 Clues (which symbolize information your investigator needs to close gates or complete tasks).

The Ancient One goes first. Cthulhu opens a gate at the Silver Twilight Lodge. A Child of the Goat dances out of the gate. Now we gotta figure out what to do.

Dan, Meg, and Francesca all try to prepare for a long, difficult, angry slog of a game. Fran's not used to living in Arkham so she moves very slowly and doesn't get anything done the first round. Meg moved from the Police Station, where she'd been trying to report Herbert for crimes involving corpses, to the Merchant District, looking for evidence. Meg gets stuck hypnotized by an ancient manuscript and loses her next turn (but gains two Clues). She also uses her Alien Statue to lose 2 Sanity and gain 2 more clues. She's already learning more than any other investigator.

Dan goes from the hospital where he works to the Woods, because he's normal and goes wherever Herbert wants him to. A gang who operate out of the Woods try to beat and rob him. He escapes, but loses his binder of notes with all the info Herbert entrusted to him along the way (he had to spend all his Clues to improve his success rolls).

Now it's Herbert's turn and having already lost a Stamina and Sanity, it made me even more reckless. I'm pissed that we got Cthulhu. I justify my actions by saying Herbert's really goddamn reckless a lot of the time in the films.

So, Herbert, despite feeling very weak, sees that gate open across town and runs directly for it.

Child of the Goat? No problem. Herbert has always wanted the chance to kill a woman. He loses a Horror check, costing him 2 more Sanity (I guess because he saw a mostly-naked woman), but wins his Combat check. So literally what happened was Herbert West saw her, screamed in horror, lost some more hair, skewered her with a spear, and then hopped into a giant glowing green circle next to a massive cult hideout.

Herbert ends up in the City of the Great Race, which is not, shockingly, named that because Lovecraft's a huge racist.

Next round, I expect it to get worse. Cthulhu's turn is up. Another gate will fuck us royally. It'll spin out of control.

I flip over the next card. It's a Rumor card.

These are normally very bad. But this one is the luckiest fucking strikes we could hope for.

One: it doesn't open a gate.

Two: you have to spend $10 to soothe everyone's worry and dispel the Rumor.

Three: We have two investigators who have $10. Meg can't move... but Francesca can.

Oh, bad part: Herbert was struck with Nightmarish Visions. Minus two Sanity. He's down to 2 Sanity and 2 Stamina.

Meg's stuck with her manuscript. Francesca hears this nonsense about monsters and uses her cash to somehow validate that there are in fact no monsters in Arkham. Dan, meanwhile, limps out of the Woods and heads to the nearby Magic Shoppe for supplies, but he's a couple dollars short of being able to buy the mysterious trunk he wanted to get that would replace Herbert's missing notes. Herbert's gonna be salty as fuck.

Off to the City of the Great Race. Normally, you get two separate turns in Other Worlds. You only get that sped up if you have specific items, or if you get really lucky with the draw.

I draw a card that allows me to escape my captors and immediately return to Arkham. I stare at the card. I mutter to @andalusiapunk "... I think we might win this."

"Do it! Do it!" they say.

So Herbert escapes, losing all his notes/Clues along the way. I guess he can't be that mad at Dan, but he will be anyhow.

Herbert West stumbles back through the gate and into Arkham, bleeding, weak, and probably tittering uncontrollably with his whole entire TWO SANITY OUT OF SIX. And now he's gotta close the gate.

Lucky for us, one thing Herbert does have is high Lore, which I maxed out. He gets five tries at closing the gate. He succeeds.

No monsters. No gates. Cthulhu goes night-night.

A game that normally takes two to four hours ended in about twenty minutes.

My gob is still smacked.

Hello, I have been away for four days because I've been using a 15-year-old computer program (Strange Eons) to build an entire gameset for a 19-year-old board game (Arkham Horror 2e) utilizing characters from a 36-year-old movie and its sequel (Re-Animator and Bride), all things that are perfectly normal.

Okay, that's not all I did.

I also playtested them with my partner-in-crime and found that Herbert West stopped Cthulhu from waking up while losing almost all his Sanity in the process.

I'm putting this in the "just got lucky, needs more playtesting" category rather than the "I massively OPed this character" category but it makes a really funny paragraph.

These are their markers. The white space at the top is there because Arkham Horror markers are shaped like gravestones. Cheerful!

[critrolesideblog]

The Winds Did Sing It to Me

AO3

Verin Thelyss, Taskhand of Bazzoxan, stared resolutely at the small stack of blank parchment on his desk. There was no more putting it off. He had inspected all military operations in the village from top to bottom, stopped by a number of weapons training sessions, for as long as he could without being a nuisance, and rearranged all the furniture in his office, only to put everything back the way it was again. This was it.

It was time.

He was going to catch up on writing his reports to Rosohna…

Any minute now…

He picked up the quill and held it in position over the parchment.

It did not help matters that, at some point in the last decade, he had begun to feel as though he was repeating himself. No new leads on how to close the rift. Monsters breached the Gate, and we defeated them. Good soldiers died. Send reinforcements… No new leads on how to close the rift. Monsters breached the Gate, and we defeated them, but not soon enough. Civilians died. Send reinforcements… No new leads on how to close the rift. Monsters breached the Gate, and we defeated them. People died. Send reinforcements…

He watched a droplet of ink form on the tip of the quill and hang, suspended, before falling with a splash onto the page. He touched the quill to the parchment at last and wrote:

Situation normal: all fucked up.

Your humble servant, Taskhand V. Thelyss.

He crumpled the page and tossed it in the nearby hearth.

The odd thing was that, for the past week, Bazzoxan had been what most of the world would consider normal. There had been no monsters, no destruction, no death, for a week. A whole week. The residents of Bazzoxan hardly knew what to do with themselves, Verin included. The first few days, there had been a grateful catching of breath, as everyone took inventory of supplies, healed wounds, and got full rests and uninterrupted meals. For the next few days after that, life had seemed almost normal.

Normal.

In Bazzoxan.

There had been laughter and socializing in the streets, as citizens and off-duty Watch were encouraged out of doors by gathering storm clouds that drew a thick, grey veil across the sun. One day, a gathering of music and games had sprung up around the barracks, like an impromptu carnival. That evening, Luminița had updated Verin excitedly about the baby she helped deliver, and he had told her, with matching excitement, of the new recruit from Jigow that beat him in knife-throwing. For those few, sunless days, the village had reminded Verin of parts of The Coronas: rough and tumble, but lively.

Bazzoxan as he might wish it, if the rift to the Abyss could be closed for good.

Now, everyone had once again retreated indoors. People walked quickly from one place to another, with their heads bowed against the wind that filled the air with the wailing of Kryn armor. Perhaps, it was the storm clouds that kept building without breaking. Perhaps, it was reflex trained by decades of onslaught. Perhaps, it was simply that everyone knew better than to trust this wish for normalcy come true. Bazzoxan granted wishes like a sword granted rest.

Whatever the Abyss had planned for them, there was nothing left to do but wait. Wait, and write reports.

A gust of wind rattled the window, as Verin picked up his quill again. Just as he did so, the door opened, and his aide, Tihomir, stepped through. A half-Orc man in his twenties, Tihomir was almost as tall as Verin, and his golden eyes, striking in contrast with the dark-elven twilight of his skin, fixed to a point on the wall as he came to attention, assumed a stoic expression, and awaited Verin's acknowledgment.

"Yes, Tihomir?"

"Taskhand, you have visitors."

Thank the Light He tossed the quill back into its holder. "Who is it?"

"Lens agents, sir."

Well… that will be something to report.

Lens agents were no end of trouble. They came through Bazzoxan often, hunting fugitives in its shadows and turning up secrets in the ruins better left alone. They talked in riddles, behind their small smiles and sneers, and looked down their noses at Verin and his soldiers, until they inevitably needed their aid.

Amusement cracked the edges of Tihomir's stoic expression as Verin's distaste made itself known on his face. "Shall I tell them to go inspect the Gates, sir?"

Verin gave a snort of laughter as he moved the blank stack of parchment to the side. He supposed it did not do to look a gift moorbounder in the mouth. He could use a little trouble. "Not this time, Tihomir. Show them in."

"Yes, sir."

Verin rose from his seat to greet the two agents, who entered a moment later, and grinned.

"Eight!"

A Drow woman, in her second or third century, Iris Eight, the first through the door, grinned back at him, with the smallest, playful flash of fang. "Taskhand Thelyss! A pleasure, as always!" Her voice was husky and warm, and she smiled a smile that made her pretty, aquiline features truly beautiful. Her slender frame was draped in silver robes that flowed flatteringly around her as she moved. Verin noted at least three daggers concealed on her person, with a likely fourth in her hair, which was fine as her silk clothes and piled high atop her head.

Most of the Lens agents who visited Bazzoxan arrived, raised hell, and left, never to be heard from again, but Eight couldn't quite manage to stay away. Verin had asked her once whether her repeated visits were the Lens' doing or her own, and she had merely smiled coyly. She was still trouble, but she was also competent, enjoyed a good conversation, and never failed to bring him news from Rosohna, which put her far and away above the other Lens agents he had had to deal with as Taskhand.

Trailing just behind her was another Drow woman Verin did not recognize. She was short and somewhat stockier in build. She wore more practical-seeming clothes of well-made but unadorned linen and leather. Her grey tunic looked to be hiding a mithral shirt, and two belts crisscrossed her hips, dotted with pouches and pockets, while a copper wire was wrapped artfully around the shell of one ear. The Lens liked to partner fighters and mages together, he knew, but Eight never showed up with the same mage twice.

"Please, come in." He motioned with a slight bow to the chairs in front of his desk, and they all took their seats.

"We're here on behalf of the lens, so on and so forth," drawled Eight, as she retrieved a token from a long chain around her neck: a vesica piscis with a Beacon in the center, resembling an eye. Verin had tried to hold Essek's once, and it had turned white hot and burned him. "This is Iris Twelve," she said, , with a lazy flick of her fingers toward her new partner, before sliding the token back under the neckline of her robes. Twelve, fumbling slightly, hastily produced her token as well.

"A pleasure to meet you." Verin smiled politely at Twelve, before turning back to Eight. "What brings you to Bazzoxan?"

"Oh, we're just doing a little follow-up on a closed case," Eight said, with another lazy flick of her fingers. "More of a formality really. We shouldn't be in your way at all."

"Although…" Twelve piped up hesitantly. Her voice was high and soft, almost childlike. She glanced at Eight for support. "We were talking as we came in-- we wondered…" She trailed off, her light blue eyes turning to Verin, clearly seeking his permission to continue. Light, she looked barely a century old, if that. Perhaps this was her first mission -- some relatively-safe fact-finding to get her feet wet. Verin gave her an encouraging smile. "Well," she continued. "We were acquainted with a Thelyss in the Lens in Rosohna. That was your brother, right?"

"Den Thelyss has a number of members in the Lens, but if he had short hair and floated everywhere, yes, that was Essek."

"Right," said Eight, closing her crimson eyes briefly in recollection. "Essek. I always wondered if you two were related, beyond den affiliation." She narrowed her eyes at Verin in frank appraisal. "Something in those handsome cheekbones." Another playful flash of fang, which Verin returned in kind. "I never worked with him directly, but I used to see him floating around the Dungeon of Penance all the time." She paused and seemed lost in thought for a moment as she peered at a spot on the ceiling, before turning her gaze back to him, eyebrows pulling together in concern. "I have not seen him in some time. Is he well?"

"I --" Verin blinked, a bit taken aback. He could not recall the last time someone had asked after Essek's welfare. He could not recall ever being asked about Essek's welfare. Eight's status as Most Agreeable Lens Agent became a little bit more unassailable. "Yes, so far as I know, but he has not been in Rosohna for some time. He transferred to Vurmas outpost about a year ago."

"Vurmas? That's some reward after he helped arrange peace with the Empire! I would have thought he would have his pick of assignments after such a feat."

After he helped arrange peace with the Empire… Verin felt a buoyant rush of pride. For all that Essek had been cold and distant these past few years, worst of all during the war itself, his brother had come through in the end. Verin could not help but smile. "He did pick it, believe it or not." Judging by the dubious looks on their faces, they did not. He chuckled. "I know he probably does not seem like the Vurmas type, but I think anyone would want a break from politics after all that." Eight gave a small huff of laughter and a slight shrug as if to say fair enough, but Twelve still looked unconvinced. "And as I understand it, there are a number of arcane ruins in Eiselcross, undoubtedly full of magical secrets. My brother's never shirked a little risk in exchange for knowledge." The nerd. That line of reasoning seemed to ring true as Twelve nodded slightly and her expression turned pensive.

"Did you hear about that whole business with the Luxon Beacons up here in Bazzoxan?" Asked Eight. She leaned forward as she spoke, lowering her voice conspiratorially as though she was relaying some interesting gossip. The motion caused the neck of her silver robes to spill forward slightly, allowing Verin to glimpse the hilt of fifth dagger. "I must say, Tasithar as the traitor was a surprise." Verin raised an eyebrow.

"Was it? I can't say I was terribly surprised." An old rage that flared to life in his chest, and Eight seemed to guess the trajectory of his thoughts.

"Oh, he was scum, to be sure." She leaned forward a little further and gave a wry sort of smirk. "I worked with him directly for some time, and I'm not sad to see him rot in a hole. But a despicable person does not necessarily a traitor make. There are certain things, weak points in the armor, that the Lens looks for in espionage candidates: financial troubles or ideological disagreements with their institutions or lust for power. If they are the loner sort, all the better." She ticked the possibilities off on her fingers. "Tasithar was really an unsuitable candidate in every regard. He had a wide array of relationship entanglements. He was by all accounts loyal, or at least not disloyal, to the Dynasty or the Luxon faith. He had no financial troubles. He was not a man of any great ambition -- he made no efforts to rise from his position for over a lifetime. He may have had the opportunity to steal the Beacons and perhaps the means -- although, from what I saw of his magical skill over the years, I'm not so sure -- but, regardless, what was the motive?" She sat back then and leaned her chin upon her palm in thought. Verin tried to think back over the facts of the case that had managed to survive the Barbed Fields.

"Wasn't he some sort of demon cultist or something?"

Eight glanced at Twelve, who had begun gazing at Verin intently, and gave the barest shrug of her shoulders. "Perhaps…"

"Perhaps? Surely, the agents in charge of the case reviewed his memories for evidence."

"Oh, they did."

"And?"

"He did have memories of handing over the Beacons…" She trailed off, and there was silence for a long moment. Verin glanced at Twelve. Her staring was becoming disconcerting and did not falter in the slightest at being caught. Mages, he thought, with a mixture of exasperation and affection and turned back to Eight. There was the tiniest hint of a smirk tugging at the corners of her lips. She was enjoying leaving him in suspense. Fine, he'd bite.

"But?"

"Well," she leaned forward again. "From what I've heard around the Lens, it seems there is evidence that those memories were… tampered with."

"Tampered with?"

"That's what I heard."

"So… he may have been framed."

Eight gave a theatrically non-committal shrug, splaying her elegant fingers wide.

Framed. Verin leaned back in his own chair as he let this information sink in. He picked up a small piece of scrap metal from his desk and began tossing it into the air and catching it absentmindedly. The dark metal tube made a soft, fluting whistle as it rose and fell. Framed. As satisfying as it was to think of Tasithar in prison, Verin had to admit Eight was right. Tasithar had enjoyed his middling position, supervising new Lens recruits and promoting them up the ladder, the way it gave him access to those in power without the hassle of being in power himself. Verin wasn't sure he would have trusted Tasithar to steal a quill from the Nimbus Keep, much less a Beacon. Framed. Framed for treason and the wartime deaths of thousands. It was like something out of the mystery novels he had enjoyed as a child, the sort where a convoluted trail of clues led the investigators in circles until the valiant detective caught the least likely person in a lie. ("That is why you never lie outright," a teenaged Essek had proclaimed imperiously, though he did not deign to read the novels himself, preferring instead to peer down his nose over his brother's shoulder and sigh when he didn't turn the page quickly enough. "Simply state the truth in a misleading way. Lies are always caught in the end."). Framed. It would have to have been someone close to the investigation, or powerful enough to get close, to implant the memories into Tasithar's head, and someone powerful, besides, to have stolen the Beacons in the first place. And it must have been a very good bit of memory magic to escape Essek's notice. He tried to imagine them, as the broken piece of armor keened softly through the air. Someone willing to start a war to achieve their ends. A faceless villain, bitter and power-hungry, growing desperate as his brother closed in on their crimes. People did horrible things in the name of power, he knew, but to start a war…

"Who would do such a thing?" He murmured, still half lost in thought, tossing the metal piece once more into the air.

"Perhaps someone who's never shirked a little risk in exchange for knowledge." Eight's voice, devoid of playfulness, was barely audible as Twelve's spell took a hold of his mind. The effect called up memories of teleporting, voices whisked away on a sudden, arcane wind as the magic seized him and placed him somewhere else.

Verin picked up a dark, lustrous pearl from a box and balanced it on the back of his knuckles, while his brother paced back and forth across his tower study, his mantle swishing as he spun on his heel.

"It is not-- It is not… fair," Essek hissed, furiously.

"What did you expect, brother?"

Essek rounded on him. "You do not believe in the Luxon any more than I do!"

"That is besides the point. They believe in it, and if it brings them peace, what does it--"

"It matters when they put limits on the answers I can seek, limits on what I can achieve!"

--

"Shhh!" They were small. As small as Verin could remember being. Nanny took his brother's face in her hands. "My Star, you must not say such things."

--

Verin, who was not yet Verin, opened the door onto the roof of the tallest tower of the Thelyss estate, and sure enough, there was his brother, seated on the ground, surrounded by notes and diagrams.

"If you see our parents later, try to look sick," Verin advised, as he closed the door behind him. "I told them you missed dinner because you were puking your guts out." He chuckled at his own ruse, expecting to get some sort of a reaction from his brother, but he merely kept staring at the expanse above. Verin plopped down beside him, his shoulder jostling into him, and looked up into the glittering darkness. He didn't see anything of particular interest. He nudged his brother's shoulder again. "What are you thinking about?"

"What if…" His brother whispered after a long moment. "What if consecution is not the blessing they make it out to be?"

--

Verin sighed as he tossed the pearl in the air with a flick of his wrist and caught it. "Divine or not, it makes no difference: the results are the--"

"It is the difference between reality and fiction!" Essek rounded on him again. There was a rage blazing in his lilac eyes the likes of which Verin had never seen before. "They shackle themselves -- shackle me!"

--

"You seem in good spirits!" Verin remarked, as Essek poured himself a glass of wine. He had thought Essek would be annoyed at the way Verin rearranged his finely-crafted furniture into an obstacle course to keep himself occupied, while on leave from Bazzoxan, but he had only observed it with a bemused sort of expression, before continuing on to his study. Essek stilled for a moment before passing Verin the glass and pouring himself another.

"I suppose so." He said at last.

"Any reason?" Verin took a big gulp and tried not to pull a face at the way the dry wine leeched the moisture from his mouth.

"I have been corresponding with a foreign mage on some … academic curiosities in my spare time." Essek gave a small smile behind his wine glass. "I suppose it is nice to communicate with a kindred spirit."

"You would be happy about some academic letters," Verin chuckled affectionately. He picked up a cracker off the sideboard and chucked it at Essek's head. It froze midair a few inches from his face and dropped to the floor with little more than an exasperated eyeroll and muttered word from his brother. Okay, that was pretty cool. "Where are the mages from? Marquet?"

Essek smiled again behind his wine glass. "Where else?"

--

The keening piece of armor clattered to the floor as Verin's awareness snapped back to the present and the full weight of Eight's words hit him like a blow to the chest. "You-- you can't seriously--" He faltered as he tried to find his footing. They think Essek-- "No." No. He could see their train of thought, but it was wrong. It was wrong.

"Do you have another explanation for why the puzzle pieces all fit? Some defense to offer?" Eight asked, not unkindly.

"My brother --" It wasn't true. It wasn't. But there was a cold sinking feeling in his stomach, and everything he could think to say suddenly felt like a lie. My brother is a good man. My brother would never be so selfish. My brother wouldn't do that to me. "My brother," he bit out, finally, "would never be so stupid." No one could commit a crime so brazen and expect to get away with it forever. It would ruin everything Essek had worked so hard to attain.

"It is my experience," Eight said, softly. "That the ones who think they are too smart to get into trouble get into trouble of the worst kinds." Damned if she wasn't right, but Verin was not about to admit it.

"So you're here to interrogate me?"

"Interrogate you?" Asked Twelve, eyes wide, still the picture of innocence, as if she had not just been rifling through his memories. "We're just having a conversation."

"Well, in that case," he said coldly, rising to his feet. "I'm sure you are aware I am very busy. If there is nothing you need from me, I'm afraid we must end our conversation here. I have reports to write."

"Of course," Eight replied smoothly, rising from her seat with languid grace. "Taskhand Thelyss." She bowed her head with a sardonic grin. "A pleasure, as always."

Twelve watched her companion circle her chair and head for the door with a face that said she wanted to argue, but she rose from her chair as well, gave a jerky nod, and followed suit.

"Your brother is no longer in Vurmas, by the way." Eight called back without breaking her stride. "It appears he went AWOL some weeks go. One wonders why an innocent man would do such a thing." And with that, they were both gone as quickly as they had arrived.

AWOL... No-- Fuck, what was Essek thinking? What had he done? What had he done? He snatched up the inkwell from his desk, a dainty, glass thing given to him by his brother, and hurled it as hard as he could at the wall. He barely registered the crashing noise it made as it shattered against the wall or the way the ink bled across the stone like ichor as he began pacing the length of his desk. If Essek stole the Beacons -- if he stole the Luxon Beacons. The thought made Verin's skin crawl. He did not pray anymore, but he had spent too many hours kneeling in the temple as a child to react any other way. The idea that Essek had handed them over to some foreign mages to study like any old relic--

"Sir?"

Verin looked up to find Tihomir standing in the door, his sword drawn. Pihla, the guard on duty, stood a few feet behind him, her hand on her hilt. In almost perfect unison, their eyes took in the shattered inkwell, and they both cast suspicious looks back over their shoulders in the direction of the Lens agents' exit.

"It's nothing," Verin said, firmly. "As you were."

Their eyes said they were unconvinced, but they both nodded obediently and returned to their posts, the door closing softly behind them. Verin took a deep breath to steady himself and resumed pacing.

If Essek stole the Beacons, that meant Essek lit the fuse that started the war. Had he known? Had he known the destruction his actions would result in? How could he not? They were the Luxon Beacons. There was no way their theft resulted in anything less than all-out war. If Essek stole the Beacons, he had known… he had known, and done it anyway.

His office, large by Bazzoxanian standards, was suddenly much too small, too closed-in. The air, too thick to breathe. It was not an unfamiliar feeling. Keep your head, soldier. He told himself sternly. Move. He strode across the room and out the door, through the antechamber, where Tihomir sat at his desk, and out the front door, into the street.

The scent of rain was thick on the air, though the looming, grey clouds above still had not broken. The evening light that filtered through was a muted grey-blue. The wind whipped fiercely around him, alternately pushing him back and pressing him forward. It made his armor whistle and keen. He wanted desperately to run, to run until his limbs ached and his lungs burned and then keep running, as he would run through the streets of Rosohna on leave, from Essek's towers to the Coronas and back, when the deafening lack of sirens kept him waiting for danger that never appeared. But Tihomir and Pihla had fallen dutifully into step behind him as he strode into the street, and somehow he thought the Taskhand running full-tilt through the streets of Bazzoxan might not be great for morale.

So he did what he did when he could not run. He walked to the watchtower in the center of the village, nodding automatically to the soldiers who saluted him on the way. Pihla assumed position at the entrance as he ascended the stairs, Tihomir trailing behind him. The steps spiraled steeply upwards, narrow enough to present a challenge to any fiends trying to make their way to the top. He took them two at a time, until he opened the door at last onto the roof. The two guards on the roof snapped smartly to attention.

"It's your lucky day," he informed them. "You get a 15-minute break." They blinked, stunned, but only for an instant.

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir." They chorused, as Tihomir came through the door, and quickly took advantage of the reprieve offered, leaving Verin and Tihomir to take their posts.

If he stood at the right spot on the tower, Verin could see from the Umbra Gates to the Bazzoxan gates. The storm clouds, so laden with rain that he felt he could almost reach up and touch them, deprived him of the view of Bazzoxan at sunset, when the fading, ruddy light caught the ancient, black temple spires just so and bathed the village in an ember glow. Now, the top spire jutted up into the clouds, which swirled sluggishly around it, like the jagged black spoke of a billowing wheel. There was little light for it to reflect, but even in tones of muted blue and grey, the sight of Bazzoxan beneath him, with each watchtower, each alarm signal, and all of the main avenues in view, calmed his racing heart.

Tihomir circled around to stand next to him. The wind tousled Tihomir's white hair as he turned to look back toward the Bazzoxan gates. From this angle, it was easy to mistake him for Zdan. From the time Tihomir could walk he had followed his elder brother everywhere. As small children, they had trailed after marching soldiers, singing along to filthy cadences they didn't understand the meaning of, politely referring to everyone as "Auntie General" and "Uncle Soldier." Verin remembered clearly the day he went from being Uncle Lieutenant to Uncle Verin: the boys snuck into the Gatehold Barracks training area, while Verin was putting new recruits through their paces. You won't make us leave, will you, Uncle Verin? We just want to watch. He hadn't let them watch. He'd given them practice swords instead.

Tihomir followed Zdan everywhere, until Zdan was called to the front lines in the Ashkeeper Peaks and Tihomir was not. Verin recalled just as clearly the day he was forced to give Tihomir the news. He remembered with crystalline clarity the barely-contained agony on the young man's face as he tried valiantly to go about his duties in the face of his brother's death. The pain of it made him inhale sharply, and he let the air filter out through clenched teeth.

"Sir?" Tihomir was looking at him with a mixture of curiosity and concern.

"I'm sorry, Tihomir, I was--" There was an instant's hesitation, where he wondered if he should lie, if it was more cruel to tell the truth, but he was never a good liar. That was Essek's domain. "I was thinking of your brother," he said, finally. He watched the cascade of surprise and grief wash over the young man's face. Tihomir bowed his head and nodded, as a muscle in his jaw began to twitch.

"I understand, sir," he said, his voice rough. "Some days are like any other, and some days… some days it hits hard."

"It was a hard loss. He was a good man, courageous and faithful." Verin reached out and grabbed Tihomir's arm bracingly. "You remind me of him often." As Tihomir raised his head once more, he seemed to stand a little taller.

"Thank you, sir."

They spent the rest of their watch in silence, as Tihomir gazed toward the gates his brother left through and Verin steeled himself for what must be done.

When he returned to his office, he walked straight through to his private quarters on the other side. He opened the locker at the end of his bed and took out a small box. The bright fragrance of Vermaloc reached him as he opened the box and retrieved the stone inside.

He sat down heavily on the bed, as he prepared to question his brother. Where had he gone? What had he done? Was Eight right? He brushed his thumb over the sigil on the stone, and he felt the magic tether take hold. There was a bright flash of light outside the window and a roll of thunder as the questions were brushed from his mind by the image of a boy with golden eyes and a practice sword.

"Tell me it wasn't you." A torrent of rain slammed into the window. He took a deep, shaking breath. "Just, tell me it wasn't you. Make it make sense." How many times had he said that as a child, propping up his schoolwork in front of his elder brother? Brother, make it make sense.

There was a long moment where the only sound was the rhythmic beating of rain against the window and the crack and peal of thunder.

At last, Essek's voice floated, slowly, into his mind. "I… have done many things I regret." A noise of disbelief that almost sounded like laughter escaped Verin's chest as he was propelled up off the bed and into a pacing stride. "I regret most the pain I have caused you." In a flash, the disbelief turned to rage.

"ME?!" Verin yelled at his brother who could not hear him. "The pain you have caused ME?!"

"I am trying to do better… to do good."

Verin flung the stone blindly as he had flung the inkwell, without pausing in his pacing. He was going to kill him. He was going to find Essek, and he was going to kill him.

The flashing light outside turned from lightning white to a familiar, bloody red, and the thunder was joined in chorus by the wail of an alarm siren. It was close: the village center. Another siren joined the round, farther away: the Umbra Gates. And another: the crematory. And another… And another…

A cold calm descended over Verin. There would be time for this later. He donned his helmet, picked up his glaive, and walked out the door.

--

"O, it is monstrous, monstrous: Methought the billows spoke and told me of it; The winds did sing it to me, and the thunder, That deep and dreadful organ-pipe, pronounced The name of Prosper" Shakespeare, the Tempest

Shout-out to Sundayswiththeilluminati's awesome meta series on Essek and espionage, which I used as reference while writing the conversation with Eight.