#recruiting marketplace

[pickauni]

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[gyftedjobsmeetpersonalities]

We all hate recruiting - AIM Group interview with Gyfted's CEO

In April I got to speak at a great job board/hiring marketplace conference in Barcelona called Rec Buzz organized by AIM Group – AIM’s a global business intelligence service covering automotive, real estate, recruitment and horizontal marketplaces and classifieds segments. I’ll write about the conference specifically in a separate article. Below’s a reprint of an interview with me as part of the…

[flexc-us]

Create transformative value for your business with Talent marketplaces

The technologies that businesses implement are only as valuable as the value they provide, and it's becoming clear that talent marketplaces are creating transformative value for the organisations that put their trust in them. Talent marketplaces are online platforms that bring together freelancers and businesses seeking their services. They have emerged as a popular trend in today's gig economy, and their value lies in their ability to provide a range of benefits to both freelancers and businesses.

As the economy becomes more uncertain and unpredictable, the need to create value within the company competes with equally important talent needs; according to a Forbes report, 90% of leaders are experimenting with skills-based techniques to meet both demands. 

How do talent marketplaces add value to organisations?

The first key difference among a talent marketplace and other HR tools is its fundamental design principle. While many HR tools were designed to save money, talent marketplaces create direct value through their transformative nature. A talent marketplace can both power an organisation's investment in future skill development while also assisting leaders in making more informed decisions based on real-time skill information that would otherwise be impossible to leverage.

Talent Boosters and value creators

Though it also contributes to the mindset shift that businesses must make, one of the key differences between talent marketplaces as well as other pieces of HR tech is their utility: it's an offensive play. Whereas many HR tools have been used to improve the efficiency of existing systems, talent marketplaces can add value by expediting project staffing, lowering external hiring costs, and enabling greater L&D efforts.

The workforce data generated by talent marketplaces and workforce intelligence that power many platforms is more than just information. Data organised in a centralised platform allows talent leaders to craft more savvy talent strategies based on their organisation's skill needs as well as how they compare to their industry as a whole. 

Creating organisational value by changing company mindsets

Just as important as carrying out a talent marketplace is gaining institutional buy-in for the system, which is frequently the root cause of delays in realising the value of a talent marketplace. If hesitation among managers and leaders is allowed to spread, it can slow adoption rates, so creating positive momentum for the talent marketplace necessitates a targeted platform rollout to bring proof to the rest of the organisation.

Encourage Entrepreneurship and promotes innovation

Talent marketplaces can also encourage industry innovation. They can facilitate the exchange of ideas and best practices by connecting freelancers and businesses from various parts of the world and different areas of expertise. This can lead to new approaches and innovations. Entrepreneurship can also be encouraged by talent marketplaces. It can help freelancers establish themselves as independent entrepreneurs as well as take control of their careers by providing a platform for them to showcase their skills and build their reputation.

Some tips for increasing company-wide talent marketplace support

Every organisation will face a unique set of challenges as it navigates the talent marketplace.  However, gaining support from stakeholders is critical to avoiding unnecessary delays in realising its value. 

Determine the platform's goal

Clarifying the scope of implementation can help clear up any initial confusion and help workers realise how their efforts will be rewarded, incentivizing adoption even further. Talent marketplaces are naturally employee-centric platforms, allowing employees to develop the skills they value while also adding value to their organisation.

Discuss the value of talent marketplace

Aside from project and opportunity connections, talent marketplaces give employees more control over their career advancements and talent leaders better insight into the skills distributed throughout the organisation. 

During the pilot programme, analyse and modify in real time.

Talent leaders can see what's working and where improvements can be made by focusing efforts on a monitored, receptive sector of the business before rolling out the platform to the entire organisation. 

Understand your CEO's mindset

Balance your talent marketplace's messaging between the value it brings to employees and the value it brings to the company as a whole, just as a CEO must. Know what your CEO is prioritising in terms of future skills and business, and explain the ways the talent marketplace addresses both.

About FlexC

FlexC is a top talent recruitment agency and freelance website based in India that was founded to connect the best Indian talent with global markets. FlexC is dedicated to providing a vibrant social environment for its founders, executives, passionate leaders, and recognised experts. Our platform's longevity, as well as the advanced AI technology that distinguishes us, are reflections of our dedication to excellence. We strive to be the best platform for managing hybrid workforces in the future of work, in addition to providing the best freelancer jobs in India.

[aurumalatus]

𝐩𝐢𝐱𝐞𝐥𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬!𝐚𝐮 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝟏

pairing. kinich x fem!reader

genre/warnings. pixelprincess!au (princess!reader x knight!kinich), reposted for formatting lol

summary. a series of random headcanons from the universe! part 1 of many because i have lots of thoughts about these two

author's note. feel free to come scream about some more headcanons with me <3 enjoy!

𝐩𝐢𝐱𝐞𝐥𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬!𝐚𝐮 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

kinich and the princess have known about each other for a long time, but it’s only recently that they’ve really talked a lot and become close (since kinich became your guard)

kinich is a bit more open in this universe because although he grew up an orphan, he was recruited into the guard earlier and taken care of by his fellow trainees and the castle staff. he’s still pretty serious and deadpan at his core but he has a bit of silly in him too 

the maids especially used to dote on him a lot. they would coo about how beautiful his eyes are and sneak him cakes and sweets from the kitchen

kinich and the princess actually had one key interaction when they were children that she doesn’t remember

the princess came down with a bad illness and had to stay in her room for about a week. kinich was assigned guard right outside her room, but she never saw him. still, they used to talk a lot during that week through her door, and she never quite figured out who her temporary friend was.

princess used to be *very* spoiled and she knows this. kinich is one of the only people who knocks her down a peg, and he also taught her how to do a lot of practical things (i.e. cleaning, cooking, weaving) 

kinich takes his shirt off by grabbing the back of his collar and pulling it over his head (idk if i’m describing this well, but the image in my head is INSANE). 

once they actually get together, kinich is the type to kiss the princess’s tears away when she cries (i’m going to scream)

kinich secretly has always known he loved the princess in some capacity, maybe since the day he was inducted as her guard (he looked up into her eyes, knelt before her, and felt something burst in his chest). he doesn’t feel like he deserves her love in return and feels so committed to his duty that he won’t do anything about it.

kinich isn’t afraid of dying, but he’s afraid of leaving the princess alone. it’s the reason why he insists on teaching her so many practical things like fighting—he doesn’t trust anyone else to protect her like he can.

there’s a yearly tournament among the guards (and any citizens that want to enter) that is held to win the royals’ favor. kinich is required to participate due to his position, but he tries a lot harder than he lets on—something about letting another guard win kind of irritates him. he wins your ribbon as a prize, a sign of your personal favor, and keeps it on him at all times. he claims it’s just to prove that you owe him.

kinich is a TERROR in the capital marketplace. sellers love him and hate him—he’s fair, but he barters like HELL. you, on the other hand, are any easy target. you will pay pretty much any price they name, and this irritates kinich greatly.

kinich is in charge of training newer recruits to the guard, and older members will warn them not to mention the princess in front of him. last time someone said something disrespectful about her, kinich had them running laps until the sun came up.

most mornings, kinich trains at sunrise. the princess will come out to join him sometimes, either to just lay down in the grass and talk, or to bring out a picnic

many princesses from other nations are attracted to kinich, but he does not return the sentiment—whenever one tries to talk to him, he acts extremely dry and boring on purpose until they lose interest.

kinich has a lot of piercings, but they're not always optimal to fight in—on days when he expects a battle, he wears a pair of studs that the princess gifted him

the castle maids have a running bet on how long it will take you and kinich to get married. sometimes they try to push it along by telling kinich you're looking for him when you aren't, just to pull the two of you together. the pot is over one million Mora, and at some point, the queen joins as well.

[argisthebulwark]

Pretty Please?

summary: Asking them to let you tie a bow around their bicep💕 gn reader, no gendered pronouns or y/n used. feat: Farkas, Vilkas, Brynjolf, Miraak, Mercer warnings: some swearing, unserious threats (Mercer) masterlist

"Oh hell yeah." Farkas isn't ashamed to admit that he flexes just a little when you wrap the cute ribbon around his bicep. He loves the excited gleam in your eye and the shameless way your hands linger on his muscles even when the task is complete. "Now what?" He laughs, enjoying the satisfied smile on your face. "You keep it there." "For how long?" "Until it falls off, I guess." You shrug, allowing his arms to wrap around you. Farkas can't help himself from drawing closer to you, there's something magnetic about being in your presence. Any silly little joke is worth seeing you smile. "What if it breaks?" "How would it break?" Oh, you've played right into his game. Farkas flexes his triceps, feeling the flimsy ribbon strain and snap around his muscles. He adores the pout you force to cover up the clear amusement when you pluck the pink fabric from his arm. "You just wanted to show off." "C'mon, tie another one. I promise to leave it all day." Of course he's true to his word. Farkas double checks your knot on the second bow, strangely invested in this one staying as long as possible. He's thrilled to talk to the new recruits about his lovely partner who'd placed it there, fingers brushing the soft fabric sentimentally each time he thinks of you.

Vilkas grumbles something under his breath, eyes never straying from his book. Behind the locks of dark hair you spot his expression, noting the lack of real annoyance. Fighting back a grin you play along with his obligatory protests. "It's just a cute little bow." "What purpose does it serve?" "I can ask someone else." You sigh theatrically, turning on your heel. Right on queue Vilkas huffs, a strong hand closing around your wrist and tugging you closer. "Just put it on." He growls just as you'd expected. He thinks he's so scary, but Vilkas sits eerily still and allows you to tie a pretty pink ribbon around his bicep. Despite his protests it remains there all day. One sharp glare shuts down the giggling from a group of whelps resting in the main hall, though the older Companions are harder to quiet. Farkas nearly combusts when Vilkas breezes past him without saying a word, his gleeful expression matched only by yours. After a few boring meetings you scurry down to the marketplace in search of your partner, thrilled at the sight of him pawing through bits of armor while merchants and civilians stare pointedly at your ribbon. It had started as a funny suggestion but seeing him now makes your heart melt. Fully aware that you're killing his tough persona, you skip closer until Vilkas' large hand instinctively reaches for you. He continues haggling with the merchant, seemingly unaware of the pink ribbon flapping in the gentle afternoon breeze. "You doin' this for all the lads?" Brynjolf smirks, holding his arm out to you. "Why?" You hum, so carefully tying a perfect bow over his muscled arm. He isn't sure why you've chosen to add a pink ribbon to his armor but for you he'd do anything. "Would that make you jealous?" "Oh, desperately." He deadpans, enveloping you in his arms. Brynjolf relaxes when you brush through his hair, grateful for the distraction from the endless stacks of paperwork towering on his desk. "Just you, Bryn." You assure him, adjusting the bow until it's perfect. "Thank the gods for that - but did ya have to choose such a bright color, love?" "Some of the recruits have been eyeing you a bit too much for my liking." You admit, sinking deeper into his touch. "Had to stake my claim." "I live and breathe for you, love." From a man who's spent decades lying and stealing, those are the truest words he's ever spoken. Brynjolf loves the excited way you fuss at his bow, ensuring it will stay in place. "What if I get called on a job? This frilly pink'll surely get me caught." "Good thing you're the best there is." "Aye, love. Got that right."

"Absolutely not." Miraak lies, resolve already cracking. He can never say to no to you for long. "Why not?" "Why should I allow this?" "I think you'll look cute." He groans at your words, fully aware that he can not resist that sweet tone of your voice. Dropping whatever tome he'd been reading for far too long he allows you to crawl into his lap. It's painfully difficult to not just give in to you. Miraak knows that his intimidating persona is all but shattered in your presence but that does not stop him from grasping at its last remaining shreds when he can. "I have slain thousands. I could end you with a word. I am not cute." "Fine." You huff, still clutching the frilly piece of ribbon. "You're pretty, is that better?" "It is not." He grumbles, putting up no fight when your fingers dance up his arm. "Would this please you?" "Greatly." His heart swells at that smile, the one you've only shown him. To the rest of Tamriel you are a being of myth, the Last Dragonborn, the only one who holds the world's fate in the palm of your hands. You could save or condemn continents with a word. Yet here you sit, face cupped in Miraak's gloved hands and pouting over a cute pink ribbon. He sighs, unable to maintain the act any longer. "As you wish, my Dragon."

"Try it and I'll gut you." Mercer grunts, content to ignore your request - until he sees the disappointment shimmering in your eyes. That excited smile fades and your hands fall to your sides and oh, the guilt kicks his ass. He turns behind the desk, disgusted by how badly be wants to please you. Wordlessly, he raises his left arm. He glares down at the list of recently recovered oddities without absorbing any information when you happily bounce closer, touch featherlight as you tie the scrap of fabric around his arm. "You markin' me for some sort of hit?" He snarks, attempting to distance himself from the sheer pleasure of you leaning so close to him. "There's easier ways to kill you, honey." Your voice is light, unaffected by his refusal. "I'm goin' away on a job for a while, I just figured you'd think of me when you saw this." Mercer grunts noncommittally once more, swallowing the words threatening to escape - you think he requires a silly bow to think of you? Every moment you're away from the Cistern he's worrying over your safety, counting the hours the job should take until his chest is tight. He doesn't mention it again, though after your departure he catches a few other thieves snickering behind their hands. He strides through the Flagon without looking at them, summoning the most cutting voice he can before speaking. "Say another word and you won't live to see sunrise."

[yoredoesmore]

Until Fate Reunites us - An Unexpected Storm | Cyno

pairing: Cyno x Reader

summary: Two young children who both share different fates meet. They are connected by a bond that surpasses even the universe, but the worlds they were born into divide them. Will their paths cross again or will their first encounter be their last?

cw: fight scenes, the story takes place in cyno's and y/n's childhood, mentioning of child abuse, kidnapping

genre: angst, action, eventual romance, [wc: 2,7k]

a/n: this story was written long before more parts of cyno's backstory were released, so none of this is canon

enjoy!

The burning summer heat fell onto the world, penetrating not just the climate but also one's mind. It was safe to say that this was by far one of the hottest days of the year in Sumeru, yet you didn't seem to mind. With a smile on your face, you walked over the sandy surface, carefree and full of joy. Today was a day of celebration, one you were destined to remember forever– today, you were going to create your very own family.

Years of loneliness and desperation were finally coming to an end, you could feel it in your heart.

Now, one would ask themselves how a little child like you was going to achieve such goal but you were ready to surprise them all. Months have gone into the making of your plan and nothing and no one was going to stop you from pursuing it. So as you sneaked past the gates of Caravan Ribat, you held your eyes out for your new family members.

"Look at this.." You said in awe while making your way through the bustling streets of the marketplace. You were no stranger to crowded places and commotion, despite being born in the middle of the desert. When the rations got thin and the nights too dangerous, you would often come here and borrow one or two items from the stalls or seek shelter behind one of the buildings. It was safe to say that you were at least familiar enough with the place to know where to search first.

But even though you fit right in with the people, you still had to be cautious. This place was just booming with guards and thieves, a dangerous mixture for an outsider and little kid like you. But you still did a pretty good job at mixing in with the locals. Hardly anybody took notice of your existence and even those who did, did not bother themselves longer than two seconds with your presence. After making it through the entire street, you finally arrived at your first destination.

Right under a structure or bridge, you weren't entirely sure what it was, they sat. Children like you, but a tad bit older. Despite their young appearance, nobody dared to walk past or even look at them. These teenagers were known for causing trouble after all. Yet you didn't even hesitate to approach them with a bright smile.

"Good afternoon." You said, holding out your hand. "My name is Y/n, and I would like for you guys to join my family!"

A long silence followed your words which was followed by an awkward cough. The teenagers exchanged confused looks with one another before one of them decided to speak up.

"Are you lost, kid..?" The tallest asked.

"I was but I am not anymore. I am here to recruit you guys to join my family!"

"Join...your family? I'm sorry kid but we have no interest in playing house with you. Why don't you ask mommy and daddy to get you some toys to play with them instead?"

"Don't be rude, Galehunter, the kid is just lost." A brown haired girl came to your defense. The blonde girl simply rolled her eyes and nodded her head towards your direction, acting as if you weren't right in front of them.

"Listen kid. I don't know where your parents are but you should go back and find them. You don't know us so stop saying these weird things. We could easily cut you open and sell your body parts, distribute your organs on the black market and much more. Return now and let us be."

The five teens patiently waited for you to run off in fear, show some signs that their presence was intimidating you but you remained stuck in place. Your stubbornness must have gotten on their nerves, because one of them suddenly revealed a dagger to you. The shiny object absorbed the sunlight, making it look like some expensive jewelry. The boy swung the weapon in front of your eyes but you didn't move one inch.

"This kid is crazy.." The boy with the dagger said, returning the weapon to its previous spot.

"They call you Stone Enchanter, right?" You asked the boy.

"I would like you guys to call me Frostbite. I may be young but I am the leader of a gang that is in desperate need of new members..or members in general. You and I are quite similar, forgotten kids who roam the sand and fight for their survival. We were abandoned by this world, by our archon and by the people and now seek vengeance. Follow me, thrust me and become one of the most feared soldiers the world has ever seen."

"And why should we?" Galehunter suddenly asked while approaching you.

"Why should we put our trust in the hands of a child? We don't know if you're capable of leading a group. Being from the streets means nothing if you can't play by its rules." The girl looked down at you with daring eyes, eyes which you adored but also saw as a provocation.

You knew that things wouldn't go as smoothly as you wanted them to, that is why you came prepared. You still believed that today was a date which would be engraved into the stars and you were going to do everything to make that happen.

"How can I prove myself?"

Galehunter thought for a while before her eyes suddenly lit up. She grabbed you by the shoulder and turned you around and pointed at a young boy. The child was walking hand in hand with who you assumed were his parents. An uneasy feeling started to erupt in your body as you waited for her answer.

"You see that happy family over there? The father looks like he makes good money judging from the clothes they're wearing..I'm sure he wouldn't mind a few missing Mora."

"That's it? I just have to steal some Mora?" You found the request amusing at first, a challenge easily done, but when you noticed all the guards that started to surround them, your smile quickly dropped. Their expensive attire obviously didn't go unnoticed by your eyes but to think that they were that important people, here in the middle of the desert? The task immediately shifted up on the difficulty scale.

"Today history will be written. The birth of a new organization, one that will make it all the way to the stars. We shall celebrate that birth with a big feast, which I of course will pay for."

The teens just nodded their heads and laughed, none of them taking you serious. They were doubting your skills and intelligence but that was only to be expected. None of them could ever have fathomed the strength that laid within your grasp..

✎ᝰ

Time passed, yet the sun still burned down on Teyvat like an ungodly fire. For the past thirty minutes you have tried your best to keep up with the family– which went quite successful most of the time. They were an easy target despite the crowded place and not to mention the unusual hair color of their son that made them stick out more than a sore thumb. By listening in during some of their conversations, you managed to find out that they were from Sumeru City and came here for some business affairs. They were indeed a family but to your surprise they weren't as rich as you thought they were.

The man was part of the Matra, a group of self proclaimed heroes of the Akademiya and his wife was a professor. They gave off a rather friendly aura but that of course didn't stop you from following through with your plan. You cautiously watched them enter the Gilded Journey, a famous resting place for all types of travelers but also quite the dangerous place for the average person. But given the man's occupation, he would have no troubles defending his people.

While watching them, you constantly tried to find an opening, a moment of distraction, but your search was in vain. If they weren't surrounded by guards and mercenaries, they would be in an too unideal position to attack from.

The only opening there was, was the son. His curious eyes gazed into all kinds of directions as they walked through the bustling marketplace. He was your best chance– and most likely even your only. Unsure of how to draw his attention towards you, you waited and waited, for the perfect opportunity to find you and indeed after a couple more minutes an idea popped into your head.

You waited a few more moments for one of the merchants to pull the parents into one of their exaggerated stories before you approached the kid.

"Did they sell out yet??" You asked him in a worried tone.

"The..what?" He replied in a rather confused voice.

"The nuts of course! Did they sell out yet?" Concern reflected in the boy's eyes as you continued to confuse him. He had absolutely no idea what you were talking about yet he couldn't help himself but become curious.

"What nuts are you talking about?" You carefully took a peek at his parents, who were still chatting with the merchant. You then pointed at a man who was standing in the far distance.

"His name is Hawad and he sells the most delicious Candid Ajilenakh Nuts! they're a delicacy here and are mostly known for their sweetness. They sell out really fast and I wanted to know if he still had some left. Every child loves them, so I thought that maybe you have gotten some already but..seems like you don't.."

This was the moment of truth. The boy's eyes still reeked of confusion and conflict yet the small sparks of curiosity didn't go unnoticed by you. Your heart stopped for a second when he turned around to talk to his mother but when he asked her for some Mora a big smile found its way on your face.

"Yes mother, I will be back shortly. Do not worry, the vendor is right over there." And with that said the boy ran off and you followed him. Your eyes were dead focused on the bag. He had told the woman that he was just going to buy some of the books he saw at the other stall, what a clever child. Based on that, you figured that someone as posh as him wasn't allowed to snack on such unhealthy delicates.

"What's your name?" The boy suddenly asked.

"I'm Y/n, what about you?"

"I'm Cyno!"

"Nice to meet you, Cyno." The two of you exchanged smiles before you continued to focus on the task at hand. You were only a couple minutes away from the merchant, you could already smell the sweet aroma of the nuts. You weren't lying when you said that the Ajilenakh Nuts were beloved by the people of the desert. They were sugary and nice to chew on, the perfect snack when craving something sweet and you loved them.

Your heart bloomed with each step you took forward. Cyno walked ahead of you and was equally excited, but the both of you for different reasons.

Stretching out your hands, you prepared yourself to snatch the bag out of his grip, but all of a sudden an eerie atmosphere filled the air. All the exhilaration had clouded your mind, making you forget about your surroundings. You had let your guard down and that led to a group of strangers suddenly approaching you.

"Look at that.." One of them said with a mischievous smile on his face. "We got ourselves some lost kids."

"Who appear to be in desperate need of help from some capable adults."

Cyno's smile immediately faded upon noticing their dangerous nature. He shifted closer to you but not to hide himself but rather to shield you with his own body.

"We are in no need of help." He said in a serious tone. "Just on our way back to our parents."

"Well, then why don't we guide you back?" One of the men suddenly grabbed you by the shoulders and started pushing you towards the exit of the market. You were about to yell out to get the public's attention when one of them pulled out a dagger and held it against the boy's back. It was perfectly concealed, for only your eyes to see.

"Let's bot bother anyone else, shall we?" A woman, the leader of the group you assumed, gave you a soft smile.

"Let's move to a more quiet place, shall we?.."

Your gaze moved over to Cyno, who's face was filled with horror and concern. All you were able to do was comply and follow the group off the market ground..

✎ᝰ

The sun was starting to set and with the setting of the sun , the radiant heat drastically decreased as well.

There you were, in the middle of the desert, surrounded by criminals. The group of gangsters had taken you to an abandoned camp that wasn't too far away from Caravan Ribit you believed but not exactly close either.

Neither you or Cyno had said a word throughout the entire journey, too scared to piss one of them off. Turning your gaze around towards the boy, you tried to make out the state he was currently in but his eyes were completely empty.

"Why did you take us all the way out here? If you had wanted our Mora, you simply would have taken it."

"We got ourselves a little thinker over here." The woman said, slowly approaching you.

"Times are getting rather rough out here, little one, I'm sure you heard mommy and daddy talk about it as well. The prices of basic goods are rapidly increasing day by day and simple commissions aren't enough to get us by anymore."

"So you kidnapped us in hopes that our parents would pay you guys a fine price?" Cyno suddenly joined the conversation.

"Impressive. Looks like we caught a bundle of little researchers." The woman's voice was filled with sarcasm, which earned her soft chuckles from her comrades.

Cyno just rolled his eyes at their remarks but remained silent. The situation had spiraled out of control and you were starting to get really worried. If you had been on your own, these eremites would have been taken care of in no time but the boy's presence was a great limitation to your options. You didn't want him to be confronted with any graphic scenes but you knew that you had to do something about this mess of a situation at some point.

"I must disappoint you then, I'm an orphan." You said with a smug smile on your face. Both the adults and the boy turned around to look at you.

"Then you have no worth to us.." A deep voice came forth. A tall figure raised itself into the air, pulling out a dagger from his pocket. Cyno's eyes widened in terror as he saw the sharp weapon being pointed at you but when he tried to scream out for them to stop, another individual placed their large hand over his lips, forcing him to watch in fear.

The eremite swung the dagger into the air but missed, as you moved quickly and dodged him at the last second.

A ball of your spit then hit the man right between the eyes, setting off the fury in him. But while he was cursing you, you freed yourself from the ropes they had tied your hands with together and threw yourself onto him with full force. The blade he held only seconds ago was now pointed at his own neck, but it never came in contact with his skin.

Yet he still screamed out in pain.

The Eremites around you froze up upon hearing their comrade's cries and watched the scene unfold.

"My eyes!" The man cried out, desperately pressing his hands over his face.

"That fucking brat froze my eyeballs!"

From there on, everything moved in slow motion. All remaining Eremites came charging at you but they fell as fast as they came. Your attacks were quick and unforeseeable. Like a snowstorm you swooped over them and froze their different body parts to the core. After only minutes they were all on the ground, knocked out cold or shivering uncontrollably.

The boy was beyond speechless. His mouth hung wide open as he watched you pat off the sand from your clothes as if what just happened was nothing. He didn't know what to say or how to react– if he should feel grateful or intimidated. He was frozen in place like the enemies on the ground and his eyes stayed stuck on the small item that had fallen out of your pocket and now dangled around in the cold desert wind.

Your Vision.

[teecupangel]

The whole Desmond/Vega situation with Altair in EoAhas made me think of a time travel au where Altair keeps having romcom meet-cutes with people but literally all of them are Desmond in disguise

So Altair is going from having very few crushes in his lifetime to having multiple at once (unaware that they're all actually the same person) while Desmond is stuck wishing he had a computer to make a spreadsheet about which identity knows what about Altair so he doesn't let something slip that Altair told a different identity or info he got from the animus/bleeds

Oh my god.

This is so cute.

I think Altaïr would know it’s Desmond sooner or later, which would make Desmond’s spreadsheet quite a lost cause at that point but…

If it starts with Altaïr being a child, we can prolong the meet cute situations XD

So, in this one, it starts of with Altaïr as a child getting lost while he was joining his father in some kind of safe mission.

His first love was a child who saw him and helped him get back to the bureau, wearing clothes that were a bit too big for him.

The child’s hand was warm and he would squeeze Altaïr’s hand while he held it whenever he says “It’s going to be alright.”

And Altaïr didn’t understand why but he believed him.

Altaïr’s second love was a girl whose face he didn’t even see. Clad from head to toe in black robes with a niqab covering her face. All he could see was her eyes, clear light brown eyes that seemed to shimmer during the day.

This time, Altaïr wasn’t lost. He had just been taking a walk while waiting for his father to finish his mission. He saw her steal a piece of pomegranate from one of the stalls in the marketplace and tried to catch her.

Instead, he ended up sitting on the edge of one of the buildings as they shared the pomegranate, listening to her talk about how the merchant had been an ass who bullied other poorer merchants.

It was Adha who told him that what he felt wasn’t love but infatuation. Maybe even greed. He fell in love easily for people he will never see again. Altaïr hated her immediately, shouting at his father that he would never marry a girl like her. Adha scoffed and told her own father that she didn’t want to marry a boy who would fall in love so easily. Altaïr stormed off after his father tried to pretend he wasn’t taking Adha’s side. He bumped into him. His third love. Or the next target of his infatuation. No. That was Adha talking, not him.

He was a young boy, wearing a dark brown shemagh that covered half of his face. Altaïr’s eyes were enchanted by his eyes that reminded him of honey. The boy asked him if he was alright and Altaïr didn’t really want to talk about it. So… the boy gave him a piece of bread and told him to cheer up. His eyes wrinkled in a way that let Altaïr know he was smiling behind that shemagh.

And just like that, the boy was gone. Leaving Altaïr with a piece of bread that was still warm to the touch.

His fourth love was a street urchin who looked like a wet rodent. He had been out of Masyaf with the other recruits to observe the older Assassins perform their tasks in a busy city. The Assassin that had been assigned to him was a kind man with an easy smile. Abbas thought he was nice. Malik was as polite as ever.

And Altaïr was bored.

And it was because he wasn’t truly paying attention that he was swept by the crowd before the Assassin or the two other recruits with him could notice.

He was on his way to the bureau when he heard a crash. A child no older than he was had crashed onto a nearby stall that had been selling wine.

He quickly ran and shouted at Altaïr to run as well, just as the guards were catching up to him. Altaïr ran even though he shouldn’t have.

He wasn’t part of whatever was happening.

But his body moved on its own.

Once they were on the other side of the city, the child began to laugh. He didn’t ask why Altaïr agreed to run. He didn’t ask how Altaïr was able to keep up with him as they traversed the city, using their surrounding to gain the upper hand over the large armored men chasing after them.

“Here.” Altaïr caught whatever the child had thrown at him before he even realized what it was, “Take that as my apology for getting you mixed up in all these.”

Altaïr opened his hand.

It was a necklace of some kind with a small yellow gem.

“It matches your eyes.” The child said and Altaïr wished he would take off the fabric around his face so Altaïr could see his face.

Could see his smile.

“Take care on your way back, Altaïr.” The boy waved before he jumped off the window.

And Altaïr tried to remember when he had told him his name.

[girlactionfigure]

JEWS DON'T PROSELYTIZE

So let’s get onto the topic of Jews and proselytizing. It’s a topic that surprizes me when I reflect on how strongly I feel about it. I’ve noticed that others also feel very strongly about it. I wanted to unpack why it triggers something so powerful in me when I see Jews appearing to proselytize - that is - attempting to convert non-Jews to Judaism. It’s precisely because proselytizing is so alien to Jews in feeling and practice that I was struck by the posts of this online account:

Similar messaging even appeared on, (what presumably are), paid for adverts on roadside billboards:

Firstly, let’s not allow people of bad faith or bad intellect to pretend there’s some kind of anti-convert sentiment behind my reaction to this advert and my antipathy towards proselytizing. Converts are as Jewish as the prophets. My two favourite Jews in real life happen to be converts and they’ve enriched and deepened my relationship with my tribe. 

The question is really one of how non-Jews come to Judaism. 

As I understand it, converts are people who come to Judaism of their own volition. They are not caught by casting out a net as these billboards attempt. Following the compass of your own heart which points you towards the Jewish people is a beautiful power. The unique, organic footsteps that bring each convert to the true home of their soul are less likely to be reversed, retraced and tip-toed back out of than someone who was sold the religion as if it was a Subway sandwich. These are people who truly want to bind their destiny with us because they truly are us. Those who fall in love with Jews and convert before marriage have also experienced a calling of the soul - the organic flourishing of love within their heart. 

None of these converts were cold-called by a telesalesman offering them an opportunity too good to be true. They weren’t cynically recruited as an exercise in numbers. They weren’t randomly solicited, persuaded, manipulated, hunted or worked upon - which is exactly what these billboards are doing. They are trying to manipulate and work on non-Jews in order persuade them to abandon who they are - as if whoever they are is inherently a lesser thing - and to become Jewish. These adverts are capitalism in action. They are as tawdry as an advert for Doritos. Surely advertising the Torah like it’s some cleaning product competing against other cleaning products is rank? And I write this as a secular Jew. If you want Judaism to compete in the marketplace like Kentucky Fried Chicken or Mountain Dew - then I think that cheapens and degrades what you’re “selling”.

Adverts also target our insecurity. The heart of advertising is to tell us we’re not good enough unless we own this product. You smell bad. You look ugly. You’re uninteresting. Firstly, a non-Jew is as perfect as a Jew. They don’t have to become Jewish to have value - and Jews don’t need others to become Jewish for our tribe to have value. We don’t need to be validated by getting non-Jews to join us. Secondly: I think it’s irresponsible and distasteful for Judaism to proselytise as it risks taking advantage of the weak and vulnerable. If someone succumbs to your idealistic sales pitch when not at their best - you’re inflicting a lot of damage if they decide it’s not for them in the future. Someone extricating themself from a religion they adopted whilst in a bad place is more emotionally complicated than someone trying out a hair product and deciding it’s not for them. 

I also think we should be unashamed in saying it’s better to have quality over quantity. We don’t need members of the tribe just for the sake of it. In any venture in life, it’s better to have a small group of people whose hearts are truly into something than simply going for numbers. We have to ask the question: why proselytize in the first place? What’s the goal? We’re a tiny minority but our numbers are fairly stable. We’ve been around for thousands of years and aren’t going anywhere soon? Why proselytize? Why would we want to go out converting non-Jews? And why don’t we?

This leads to the most profound reason for not proselytising - one that’s important not just for the Jews - but for the world at large.

Jews choosing not to proselytize is the most beautiful rejection of an anti-totalitarian instinct. We don’t proselytize precisely because we’re not trying to take over the world. We just want a small corner of it where we can be free. And we’re happy for others to be free. We’ll mix and get on with everyone and participate fully in the world. But we’d be awfully unhappy if people didn’t accept us as we are and tried to stop us being Jews. We hope that everyone else mixes, interacts and participates as fully as they want to with the world. But we don’t think they should have to stop being themselves to do so. 

Whether people like it or not there’s a totalitarian instinct ingrained in the act of proselytizing. And it’s not just confined to spiritual faith groups. Political sects such as communism are also on a mission to convert people.

The starting point and end goal of those who proselytize is thus: if everyone is the same then the world will be a good place. If everyone accepts Jesus there will be heaven on earth. If everyone accepts the prophet Muhammed there will be peace. If everyone accepts the teachings of Marx there will be utopia. 

By NOT proselytizing, Judaism communicates that people can be different and the world can still be a good place. We don’t all have to think the same. We don’t have to dress the same. We don’t have to pray to the same God. We don’t need to dominate others and turn them into us. People are allowed to be different. It is the most profound example of live and let live in action. It is a rejection of mass uniformity and global group think. Jews - with their passionately held convictions and belief they possess certain truths - are not trying to force it on others. 

We need to absorb how revolutionary and powerful this concept is. To have ideas you cherish and believe are life enhancing - and to be able to enjoy them without trying to force them on others. It is bizarre that some people’s enjoyment of a thing is reduced if other people aren’t enjoying it too. To then go out and try to convert others by persuasion or the sword is an insane level of insecurity.

Proselytizing is not just questionable because it leads harassment, bullying and domination - the goal of global group think would be awful if achieved. A healthy nation, a healthy civilisation, a healthy planet will venerate difference - not domination. The friction of different perspectives is absolutely essential for human vitality and progress. 

So I honestly don’t know what the people who post materials that stray into proselytizing are playing at. Converts will come - as they do and as they always have done. And they are among the best of us. But going out hunting them isn’t bringing something to Judaism. It’s taking something away.

Anyway, it doesn’t affect me - I worship Zeus.

Only joking.

Thanks for reading. I hope I’ve converted you to the beauty of accepting converts without actively trying to convert people. 

Sending love to all Jews who are beautiful and perfect as Jews - and love to all non-Jews who are beautiful and perfect as non-Jews.

Once again, if you think my articles are welcome contributions to ongoing debates and have some value, please do subscribe:

LEE KERN

[idreamofthemeparks]

I finally figured out how to retheme Galaxy's Edge. It's a city run by XS Tech. On the surface it's friendly, honestly too friendly, with each store in the marketplace (which obviously now has a much more polished and techy aesthetic) run by a different alien species. You can keep all the basic ideas-- the alien foods, the store full of weird trinkets from other planets, the pet shop which of course now features a Skippy animatronic. The droid depot becomes a showcase of XS's amazing new robot technology. You could probably even keep the lightsaber shop, except now it's prefaced with something about it being a secret new XS weapons development project. Then you keep the basic structure of Rise of the Resistance, except now you've been recruited by hackers or something to infiltrate XS headquarters and expose the company's evil secrets. And as for Smuggler's Run, just make an updated version of the Alien Encounter attraction at DisneyQuest. Literally so few things would need to be changed and there'd be SO much more room for creativity.

[brf-rumortrackinganon]

“My sense is that Meghan's market is more of the TJ Maxx demographic.” Interesting assessment of Meghan’s market. From a business perspective, brands who end up at TJMaxx, Marshalls, etc. (owned by the same company TJX) are typically bought in due to 1) supplier has made too much (overstock) and it isn’t selling 2) it’s getting close to the end of its expiration dates (close out) and it sold in at a much cheaper cheaper price to TJX. She’d still need a regular place to sell before she tries to offload (usually at a much lower margin / maybe even a loss) to TJX. I’m basing this on my experience with working in food industry and resorting to these retailers for the same reasons.

Exactly my point. The TJX brand is the end of the line for so much product and merch these days (especially fast fashion) that it's inevitable Meghan's products will end up there if this turns into the deal she wants to be. The key thing is that she needs product first. That she launched without a real product is very telling.

To me, what I think it says is that she's not getting the investors or partners that she wants so she launched ASAP to use the media's hype as part of her negotiation or recruitment strategy. (In addition to taking advantage of Kate's absence, of course.)

I made a suggestion in an earlier post that Meghan's competitors are the socialite/influencers that are launching their own brands or already have brands. A great many of those brands use print-on-demand dropship merch. They save on overstock storage and production fees by only keeping a limited selection in stock and marking up their own prices to cover "demand."

I see Roop heading in that direction. If they can't find a distribution vendor (e.g., Kohls, Target, Macy's, etc.), they'll do dropshipping but at such low quantities they always sell out - which is the same tactic Meghan uses when she wants to be a fashion influencer (she wears something already heavily discounted and with so little stock that she can take credit for "selling out").

What is interesting, and why I think Roop has a good argument for exclusivity with TJX companies, is Rae Dunn. Most of her product is sold exclusively through TJX and she has a deal with a company called Magenta Inc., an online retailer that's thought to be behind Rae Dunn products in places like Amazon and Walmart.

So there's precedent for Meghan/Roop to sell exclusively with TJX, with perhaps a side deal for an online storefront like Magenta offers. But that's not the audience or market Meghan wants (even though she herself is the "wine mom" elder millennial motivational-quote-spouting stereotype that buys Rae Dunn and shops at TJX stores so it's a natural fit). She wants Roop in luxury marketplaces that prices out the very people who would actually buy Meghan's product.

She's stuck between a rock and a hard place. I think she realizes it now while watching the metrics on social media plateau from a total lack of engagement and total absence of content (hence throwing Mandana under the bus in Page Six). Which is surprising. Given the way she rolled out Sussex.com with the IG Vancouver kickoff - four or five days straight of new Sussex content and material - I expected the same thing with Roop; 1st day - social media launch, 2nd day - lunch papwalk, 3rd day - product launch, 4th day - "checking out my product" charity visit/papwalk, 5th day - Netflix cooking show promo, and so on.

I know, I know. Stop giving her ideas. I'm trying!

[mosylu]

oh, guardian of the written word, what is one book, one tv show and/or movie, and one fic you think more people should try?

Sure, ask the easy questions.

This is cheating a little bit on the book answer, but I think more people should be feral about Megan Whalen Turrner's Queen's Thief series. Just frothing at the mouth. It's basically all the titles under "Novels" at the link.

It starts in The Thief with Gen, a guttersnipe thief with a big mouth, given an unexpected ticket out of prison if he can help steal a god's treasure and use it to cement the king's power. And almost every word of that sentence is a lie. But you'll get used to that if you're going to hang out with Gen. The series takes place in a somewhat ancient-Mediterranean set of countries and gets deep in politics and war and betrayal and conflicting loyalties, but at the center of it all is Gen, the fulcrum upon which the gods have set a lever to move the fate of nations. I love this series so much that I spent over a hundred dollars on the first three books in fancy-ass hardcovers when they came up on FairyLoot.

The movie I think more people should know about because it's just campy and weird and delightfully fun is a period piece called Cold Comfort Farm. (The 1995 version; apparently there's a 1968 one that I haven't seen, both of them adapted from a 1932 novel.) Kate Beckinsale is a 1920s society girl, recently orphaned, who goes to live with country relatives and tidies up their lives. You've got your Ian McKellen, spittle flying as he preaches fire and brimstone. You've got your Rufus Sewell, fucking everything in sight (but not Kate because she finds him a tad bit ridiculous, but she still helps him get what he really wants). You've got your Stephen Fry mansplaining. Everyone is over the top and hysterically funny. And there was something nasty in the woodshed.

So this might be recency bias because I just (re)read them last month, but @melyzard's One Night Stand series is just. So. Good. It's an alternate first meeting where they run into each other on Jedha before its occupation by the Empire. Jyn is there because she's already with the Alliance and has come to collect recruits and turn them over her mysterious contact. She meets Cassian in the marketplace and they spend a day and a night together. Of course, you've already guessed who her contact is. Once they realize it too, they circle each other warily, trying to figure out what the other's game was/is. Then the Empire invades and they have to trust each other enough to avoid getting arrested, get their baby soldiers off-planet, and to safety. I love so many things about this but the best are a) the straight-up competency porn as they evade the Empire and b) the slow, tender building of trust between them. The sequel builds on both of those as it sends to them to the Ring of Kafrene. I know a lot of people have read this already because it's been around, but I still think more people should read it just because.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Enshitternet

Going to Burning Man? Catch me on Tuesday at 2:40pm on the Center Camp Stage for a talk about enshittification and how to reverse it; on Wednesday at noon, I'm hosting Dr Patrick Ball at Liminal Labs (6:15/F) for a talk on using statistics to prove high-level culpability in the recruitment of child soldiers.

On September 6 at 7pm, I'll be hosting Naomi Klein at the LA Public Library for the launch of Doppelganger.

On September 12 at 7pm, I'll be at Toronto's Another Story Bookshop with my new book The Internet Con: How to Seize the Means of Computation.

This week on my podcast, I read "Enshitternet: The old, good internet deserves a new, good internet," my recent Medium column about building a better internet:

https://doctorow.medium.com/enshitternet-c1d4252e5c6b

As John @hodgman is fond of reminding us, "nostalgia is a toxic impulse." It is easy for an old net.hand like me to fall into the trap of shaking his fist at the cloud. Having been on the other side of that dynamic, I can tell you it's no fun.

When I got on BBSes in the early 1980s, there was an omnipresent chorus of grumps insisting that the move from honest acoustic couplers to decadent modems was the end of the Golden Age of telecommunications:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Acoustic_coupler

When I got on Usenet shortly thereafter, the Unix Greybeard set never passed up an opportunity to tell us newcomers that the Fidonet-Usenet bridge allowed the barbarian hordes to overwhelm their Athenian marketplace of ideas:

https://technicshistory.com/2020/06/25/the-era-of-fragmentation-part-4-the-anarchists/

When I joined The WELL in the late 1980s, I was repeatedly assured that the good times were over, and that we would never see their like again:

https://www.well.com/

Now that I'm 52, I've learned to recognize this dynamic, from the Eternal September:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Eternal_September

to the moral panic over menuing systems replacing CLIs:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2020/02/gopher-when-adversarial-interoperability-burrowed-under-gatekeepers-fortresses

to the culture wars over what would happen when the net got a normie-friendly GUI:

https://www.dejavu.org/1993win.htm

And yeah, I've done it too, explaining "Why I won’t buy an iPad (and think you shouldn’t, either)":

https://memex.craphound.com/2010/04/01/why-i-wont-buy-an-ipad-and-think-you-shouldnt-either/

But there's a key difference between my own warnings about the enshittification that new "user friendly" technologies would engender and all those other AARP members' complaints: they were wrong, and I was right.

As Tom Eastman reminded us, the internet really was better, back before it became "five giant websites filled with screenshots of text of the other four":

https://twitter.com/tveastman/status/1069674780826071040

The underlying pathology of that enshittification wasn't the UI, or whether it involved an app store. As the Luddites knew, the important thing about a technology isn't what it does, but who it does it for and who it does it to:

https://locusmag.com/2022/01/cory-doctorow-science-fiction-is-a-luddite-literature/

The problem wasn't which technology we used. There is nothing inherent about touchscreens that makes them into prisons that trap users, rather than walled gardens that protect them.

Likewise, the problem wasn't who made that technology. We didn't swap wise UUCP Monks for venal tech bros. The early tech world was full of public-spirited sysops, but it was also full of would-be monopolists who tried – and failed – to get us to "stop talking to each other and start buying things":

https://catvalente.substack.com/p/stop-talking-to-each-other-and-start

If it wasn't the technology that killed the old, good internet, and if it wasn't the people who killed the old, good internet, where did the enshitternet come from?

It wasn't the wrong tech, it wasn't the wrong people: it was the wrong rules. After all, the Apple ][+ went on sale the year Ronald Reagan hit the campaign trail. Consumer tech was the first industry born after antitrust was dismantled, and it created the modern monopoly playbook: buying and merging with competitors. The resulting unity of purpose and anticompetitive profit margins allowed tech to capture its regulators and secure favorable court and legislative outcomes.

The simultaneous drawdown of antitrust enforcement and growth of tech meant that tech's long-standing cycle of renewal was ended. Tech companies that owed their existence to their ability to reverse-engineer incumbent companies' products and make interoperable replacements and add-ons were able to ban anyone else from doing unto them as they did unto the giants that came before them:

https://doctorow.medium.com/let-the-platforms-burn-6fb3e6c0d980

The pirates became admirals, and set about creating a "felony contempt of business model":

https://pluralistic.net/2022/12/03/painful-burning-dribble/#law-of-intended-consequences

They changed the rules to ensure that they could "disrupt" anyone they chose, but could themselves mobilize the full might of the US government to prevent anyone from disrupting them:

https://locusmag.com/2019/01/cory-doctorow-disruption-for-thee-but-not-for-me/

The old, good internet was the internet we we able to make while tech was still realizing the new anticompetitive powers it had at its disposal, and it disappeared because every administration, R and D, from Reagan to Trump, yanked more and more Jenga blocks out of the antitrust tower.

In other words: the old, good internet was always doomed, because it was being frantically built in an ever-contracting zone of freedom to tinker, where technologies could be operated by and for the people who used them.

Today, the Biden administration has ushered in a new era of antitrust renewal, planting the seeds of a disenshittification movement that will tame corporate power rather than nurturing it:

https://www.eff.org/de/deeplinks/2021/08/party-its-1979-og-antitrust-back-baby

In other words, we are living in the first days of a better nation.

In other words, rather than restoring the old, good internet, we should build a new, good internet.

What is a new, good internet? It's an internet where it's legal to:

reverse-engineer the products and services you use, to add interoperability to them so you can leave a social network without leaving your friends:

https://www.eff.org/interoperablefacebook

jailbreak devices to remove antifeatures, like surveillance, ink-locking, or repair-blocking:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/17/have-you-tried-not-spying/#coppa

move your media files and apps from any platform to any device or service, even if the company that sold them to you objects:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/09/07/audible-exclusive/#audiblegate

A new, good internet gives powers to users, and takes power away from corporations:

https://doctorow.medium.com/twiddler-1b5c9690cce6

On a new, good internet, companies can't practice algorithmic wage discrimination:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/12/algorithmic-wage-discrimination/#fishers-of-men

They can't turn search into an auction between companies that match your query and companies that want to sell you fakes and knockoffs:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/11/28/enshittification/#relentless-payola

They can't charge rent to the people whose feeds you asked to read for the privilege of reaching you:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/12/10/e2e/#the-censors-pen

In fact, a new, good internet is one where we euthanize rentiers:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/07/24/rent-to-pwn/#kitt-is-a-demon

On the new good internet, your boss can't use bossware to turn "work from home" into "live at work":

https://pluralistic.net/2021/02/24/gwb-rumsfeld-monsters/#bossware

And on top of that, you have the right to hack that bossware to undetectably disable it (and hackers have the right to sell or give you that hack):

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2021/08/tech-rights-are-workers-rights-doordash-edition

On the new, good internet, we stop pretending that tech is stealing content from news companies, and focus on how tech steals money from the news, with app taxes, rigged ad markets, surveillance ads, and payola:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2023/04/saving-news-big-tech

The new, good internet is an internet where we seize the means of computation. It's an internet operated by and for the people who use it.

Hodgman is right. Nostalgia is a toxic impulse. The point of making a new, good internet isn't to revive the old, good internet. There were plenty of problems with the old, good internet. The point is to make a new, good internet that is the worthy successor to the old, good internet – and to consign the enshitternet to the scrapheap of history, an unfortunate transitional stage between one good internet and another.

Here's a link to the podcast episode:

https://craphound.com/news/2023/08/21/enshitternet-the-old-good-internet-deserves-a-new-good-internet/

and here's a direct link to the MP3 (hosting courtesy of the Internet Archive; they'll host your stuff for free, forever):

https://archive.org/download/Cory_Doctorow_Podcast_448/Cory_Doctorow_Podcast_448_-_Enshitternet.mp3

and here's a link to my podcast's RSS feed:

https://feeds.feedburner.com/doctorow_podcast

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/08/22/the-new-good-internet/#the-old-good-internet

Image: Cryteria (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:HAL9000.svg

CC BY 3.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/deed.en

[rainyheartscrown]

Hi!! I was wondering, as a late game/established player, what is your primary income? I finally joined this month and things have been a bit slow which I hear is normal! But I remember reading on the forums one player mentioning a big auction for the first owl mantle in which they offered a million currency for the cat…I can’t even imagine a plan on how to make that much hahaha

Omg hi welcome to PCE! I hope you had enjoyed your time with the site so far. As always, I tend to ramble in my answers, so check the readmore below!

Honestly? My primary source of notes nowadays is none at all. Occasionally (like, very occasionally), I'll sell the materials/clothing I got from doing my dailies on the Open Marketplace. Flowery/nature-y items, especially, can go for a lot. Maybe you might have some 1kn-lowest-price flower headpiece in your inventory right now!

Unlocking the scribe/apothecary professions and making Love Letters or Catmint Tea respectively is also a reliable notes-maker, especially nearing big important dates/holidays both on Not-Earth and irl. Spring 1, Year 10 and the recentish Feb 29th are some examples of this.

If I have some more free time though, I tend to go Adventuring! While your big ticket item here are business cards (they tend to go for 4kn nowadays, which is a bit of a far cry from the 6kn I remembered from last year, haha), but quickselling any superfluous trinkets/materials you gain from completing rounds of Heart of the Woods is also a great way to make notes. Every little bit counts there! I have yet to do this method yet, but I know of people who also get floor-price cats from the Cat Recruitment Board (looks like they are hovering around 400n right now) and raise them up to Lv 4, with a 3-cat adventuring party, for all of their denim traveller's packs, and then see them off to the city. Opening these packs is also the most reliable free way to get essence fragments too!

[carsthatnevermadeitetc]

Chevrolet Bel Air Impala "Martinique" Convertible, 1958. Recognising that women were playing a larger role in the automotive marketplace, GM's Chief of Design, Harley Earl, recruited a number of women throughout the 1950s. In April of 1958, GM held “The Spring Fashion Festival of Women Designed Cars” at the Design Dome in Warren, Mich. This display was designed to showcase female-focused editions of GM vehicles. The Chevrolet Impala Martinique convertible was styled by Jeanette Linder and included a three-piece set of luggage to match the pastel striped upholstery. 

[ironwoman359]

A Thief's Gamble - Ch. 10

...Has a Silver Lining

Prev: Ch.9 Every Cloud... || Next: Ch.11 Fic Masterpost

Fic Summary: Brynjolf is certain that the only way the Thieves Guild will return to its glory days is by bringing in new, talented members. Unfortunately, Mercer doesn't agree, and it's not like Brynjolf's latest attempts at recruiting have gone well. But when he meets a stranger in the marketplace one morning, he's willing to take the risk and bring her on board....only time will tell if his gamble pays off.

Chapter Summary: Brynjolf finds Ariene in Falkreath, and after helping her out of a jam, the two prepare to storm the bandit camp at Pinewatch to retrieve a stolen silver mold for their client Endon.

Content: Brynjolf POV, Thieves Guild quest spoilers, game typical violence.

Ships: Brynjolf x Dragonborn OC (slowburn)

Word Count: 4,203

Check the reblogs for a link to read on AO3!

— — — 

Brynjolf swore he could feel time slowing as all eyes in the inn landed on him. The few other patrons didn’t bother to hide their stares as they watched the growing drama unfold, and the Legate he’d confronted was glaring at him with enough ferocity to kill a sabre cat. Even Ariene was staring, though she let her shock show on her face for only a moment.

“Now brother,”  she said loudly, catching on to Brynjolf’s ruse immediately. “There's no need to cause a scene. Legate Skulnar and I were simply having a…disagreement.” 

Legate Skulnar looked back and forth between the two, skepticism written plainly on his face. 

“Brother?” he asked, shrugging Brynjolf’s hand off his shoulder with a snarl. “I don’t see much resemblance between the two of you, kinsman.” 

Brynjolf silently cursed the fact that Ariene’s features were so distinctly imperial before giving the Legate his best eyebrow raise. 

“Half-brother, if you must know. My father took an imperial wife after my own ma died; not that it’s any of your business, sir.” 

Legate Skulnar didn’t look convinced, and Ariene stepped forward deftly, standing so that she was next to Brynjolf and no longer backed into the corner. 

“I tried to explain to the Legate that I was here on business, but he wouldn’t listen,” she said. “Insisted I was some kind of runaway from the legion. As if ‘Ariene’ isn’t one of the most common Imperial names of the last decade.” 

Brynjolf had no idea if that was true or not, but he supposed that if he didn’t, then Skulnar might not either. 

“The legion?” he repeated with a laugh. “Ari’s ma is in the timber business. Why else would we come to this little splinter of a city? Certainly not for the hospitality.” 

The Legate was still clearly suspicious, but Brynjolf saw the moment that he realized that his catch had slipped away. The gaze of the other patrons had turned from Brynjolf to Skulnar, and while he could arrest the both of them right there, it definitely wouldn’t do him any favors with the locals. Falkreath’s allegiances did technically lie with the empire, but this was due more to the Jarl’s personal greed than the consensus of the citizens, and Brynjolf would be willing to bet that keeping up a good image for the Legion was one of the Legate’s top priorities. 

“Fine,” Skulnar eventually growled. “You can move along. But I’ll be keeping my eye on the two of you while you’re here, is that understood?” 

“Yes sir,” Brynjolf drawled, his tone anything but respectful, and Skulnar glared.

“Stop antagonizing him, brother,” Ariene said, taking his arm. “Come, let me tell you about the spot I found in the woods. It’s a perfect place to plant our next business venture.” 

She led him to a tiny room off the side of the bar, motioning for him to shut the door behind him. As soon as they were alone, she dropped his arm and put her hands on her hips, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Brother?” she repeated, and Brynjolf shrugged. 

“I wanted to distract him from who you are. Passing you off as a Skyrim native seemed the best bet, considering the circumstances.”  

“I suppose since it worked, I can’t complain too much…” Ariene trailed off, her expression changing as she gave Brynjolf a once over. “By the Nine, Bryn, what happened to you?” 

It was then that Brynjolf remembered that his clothes were still torn and muddy, that his hair was a stringy mess falling into his eyes, and that there were still traces of the makeshift blood on his face. He'd probably looked like a madman, stalking up to a Legate and challenging him right there in the inn.  

“Oh, right,” he said, wiping a few flecks of the red-stained mud from his cheek. “This is nothing, I just had to pull one over on some bandits camping out in Helgen. No actual fighting was done.” 

Ariene sighed, then sat on the edge of her bed, gesturing for Brynjolf to sit in the room’s only chair. 

Brynjolf sat, frowning at her. 

“Are you alright, lass?” 

“I’m fine,” she said, rubbing her eyes. “It’s just been a long few weeks. Gulum-Ei is a stubborn son of a bitch, and traveling in the Reach right now is a nightmare. Those ‘Forsworn’ are around just about every other hill. Then there’s this nonsense with the Markarth job, and to top it all off that Legate out there’s been on my ass for the past three days. I was certain I was going to have to have a mysterious ‘accident’ in the woods and disappear to get away from him.” 

“Now that sounds time consuming,” Brynjolf said. “I’m glad I showed up when I did so we could avoid it.” His tone was light, playful, but Ariene wouldn’t look directly at him as she spoke. 

“I wasn’t sure you’d make it,” she admitted in a quiet voice. “I worried that the message would arrive too late, or that you wouldn’t understand the code, or…” 

She trailed off, but Brynjolf heard the unspoken doubt loud and clear. 

I wasn’t sure you’d even come.

“One of the Guild’s best and brightest calls in for backup?” She looked up at him and he smiled at her, causing a faint blush to rise to her cheeks. “Of course I came, lass. And your code was perfect. The little clue about the First of Frostfall was a neat trick.”  

“Thank you,” she said, then cleared her throat. “Honestly, I wouldn’t have bothered to encode it at all, but Skulnar was already suspicious of me, and I was worried he’d confiscate the letter from the courier.” 

“I wouldn’t have put it past him,” Brynjolf agreed. “But you didn’t even mention him in your note. Which means that what you need help with has nothing to do with the Legion, and everything to do with bandits and this silversmith job. Tell me about it.” 

Ariene nodded, and just like that, she was all business, every trace of worry and doubt vanishing from her in an instant. 

“I went to Markarth to meet the client, Endon. I was expecting some kind of job targeting a competitor of his, or perhaps a robbery to bring some extra cash flow to his business. But no.” She shook her head ruefully. “He wants us to raid a bandit camp to retrieve a stolen item.” 

Brynjolf raised an eyebrow. 

“Isn’t that a job for the Jarl’s guards? Or even the Companions?” he asked, and Ariene sighed. 

“Apparently, all official channels are too busy with the civil war and Forsworn attacks. I guess he heard that the Guild was returning to power and figured ‘who better to steal back something that was stolen?’ Their camp is at the base of the mountain range just northeast of here.”

“You’ve staked the place out?” Brynjolf asked, and Ariene nodded. 

“This is the problem: it’s not a normal camp. There’s this old woodcutter’s hut in the forest, and I’m convinced it’s bigger than it seems. I’ve seen more men go in and out over the past three days than should be able to fit comfortably inside.”

“Maybe it’s connected to some kind of cave system,” Brynjolf mused, and Ariene nodded again.

“My thoughts exactly. But if that’s true, I have no way of knowing how many opponents I’m dealing with until I’m already inside. That’s why I wrote to you for help…though I was prepared to attempt the raid alone if I got no response in a few days.”

“Well, I’m glad I made it before you tried something like that,” Brynjolf repeated. “So when do you want to make your move? Tonight?” 

“Tomorrow,” Ariene replied. “I think we both could use some sleep. Besides, the best time to hit them would probably be midmorning. From what I can tell, that’s when most of them come out to do…whatever it is bandits do during the day. Pillage, and so on.” 

“Sounds like a plan, lass,” Brynjolf said, getting to his feet. “Now, what kind of drink do they serve here?” 

They ordered a small meal, and since talking about business in the open areas of the inn seemed a foolhardy choice, they spent the rest of the evening having a mostly improvised conversation about their imaginary family members back in Riften.

As they talked, Brynjolf noticed the tension slowly bleeding out of Ariene’s shoulders, and he found himself relaxing as well, for what he realized was the first time in weeks. It was fun, sitting by the fire with a drink in his hand and making up stories about how Cousin Joric had fallen into the breeding pool at the Riften Fishery and thus was sentenced to a week of floor scrubbing. Being on a con again– even one as simple as pretending to be a family of timber workers– was energizing, and he couldn’t help but smile as he and Ariene shared a block of cheese and traded tales. 

Despite his long day, Brynjolf found sleep that night to be elusive. Lying in one of the inn’s creaky beds and staring at the ceiling, he could feel the anticipation rising in his chest. Tomorrow, they would head into the woods to face down an entire encampment of bloodthirsty bandits. And this time, he probably couldn’t trick his way out of dealing with them.  

— — — 

The next morning, Ariene led the way through the woods to where the bandits had made their base. Brynjolf realized he’d never actually seen her out in the field besides that first job in the marketplace, and was impressed by how silently the lass moved through the dense underbrush of the old forests of Falkreath. He typically associated thieves with back alleys and city streets, but he supposed that Ariene’s history as a mercenary in her father’s crew had garnered her plenty of experience with the wilderness. 

It didn’t take them long to reach what on the outside looked like a perfectly convincing woodcutter’s hut, and they crouched down in the bushes across the road to watch the door. Sure enough, clusters of bandits began exiting the hut, a few at a time spread out across the morning. About half of those who left headed up the road to the east, while the other half took the road west, and Brynjolf could picture them meeting up with their fellows and staging traps for unsuspecting travelers. 

“Alright, lass,” he said in a low voice once it had been a good half hour since anyone left the cabin. “How do you want to handle this?” 

“If there really is a secret passageway, then they’ve probably left at least one man left inside to guard it,” Ariene replied. “It’s what I’d do. I say we go in through the front here, take the guard by surprise if we can, and figure out our next move from there.” 

Brynjolf nodded, and once they were sure there was no one else on the road to see them, they both rose to their feet and made their way to the cottage door. Ariene’s picks made quick work of the lock, and she looked up at Brynjolf, a question in her eyes. 

He nodded to her and she pulled the door open by a hair, allowing Brynjolf to peer inside. He quickly scanned the interior, noting a cluttered workbench, a low burning fire in the hearth, and a wooden railing in the corner that indicated stairs.

“You were right, lass,” he whispered. “There is a basement. Up top here looks all clear for now.” 

“Take point,” she whispered back, sliding her picks into her pocket and pulling her bow off her shoulder. “I’ll cover you from behind.”

Brynjolf nodded, and the two of them slipped into the house. They approached the stairs, and Brynjolf crouched low, peering down into the basement through the gap in the floor. 

There was a single man sitting at a table with his back to them, an open bottle of wine in his hand. Brynjolf slowly descended the stairs, wincing as the wood boards creaked beneath his feet, but the man did not stir. As soon as his feet were on the stone floor, Ariene called out in a clear voice: 

“If you scream, you’re a dead man.” 

The bandit whirled around, his hand moving to an axe he wore on his belt, but he froze when he saw the tip of Ariene’s arrow pointed at his heart. 

“What do you want?” he asked, and Brynjolf smiled. 

“Just to have a chat, lad, maybe a look around. You see, we’re looking for some particular merchandise.” 

“Endon’s stolen mold,” Ariene added. 

“Endon's mold?” the man repeated. He offered a nervous smile. “I'm afraid you have the wrong place, my friends. You'll find no silversmiths here. I assure you, I have nothing of value. I'm nothing but a poor woodcutter just trying to make ends meet." 

Brynjolf glanced at Ariene, who had a triumphant glint in her eye. 

“I never said it was a silver mold,” she said, and the man licked his lips. 

“Oh? Well uh, Endon is a silversmith in Markarth, so I just assumed…”

“Look, lad,” Brynjolf interrupted. “We’d like to avoid a fight just as much as you would. If you just tell us where the mold is, we can all be on our way, no harm no foul.” 

The man bit his lip, eyes flitting between the two thieves. 

“We can make it worth your while,” Ariene said, and Brynjolf nodded, pulling out his coin pouch and giving it a shake. 

“I see…” the man said slowly, his gaze fixed on the purse. After a moment, he nodded to himself and got to his feet.

“Well, I can't say exactly where the mold is, but something does spring to mind,” he said casually. “It seems there's this strange button on the wall opposite the fireplace in my house. Always wondered what it was for.” 

Brynjolf glanced at Ariene, and she gave a single nod of her head. 

“Fair enough,” Brynjolf said, and tossed the coin to the bandit. The man caught it deftly and nodded to them.

“Thank you kindly, friends. Think I'm going to head out now. Take a long vacation from woodcutting, you know? Good luck.” 

He edged past Ariene, who kept her bow trained on him as he climbed back up the stairs, only lowering it once he had left the cottage and closed the door behind him. 

“Well, so much for finding it in the house,” she muttered when the man was gone. 

“When has the Guild ever had that kind of luck?” Brynjolf pointed out, and Ariene snorted. 

“Good point. After you, then,” she added, gesturing towards the button. 

Brynjolf pressed it, and the bookshelf against the wall swung open, revealing a tunnel leading down deeper into the earth.

“So there is a cave back here. I wonder if they dug this out, or if it was here naturally?” Ariene mused as they made their way down the tunnel. 

Brynjolf opened his mouth to answer, but stopped when he rounded a corner and found the end of the tunnel opening out into a large open room. 

“I don’t know, but that doesn’t look like any rock formations I’ve ever seen,” he said, pointing at a scaffolding rig that blocked their view of most of the cave. 

“Get down,” Ariene whispered, and Brynjolf immediately dropped to one knee, his hand moving to his daggers. 

A second later, he saw the bandit. 

Through gaps in the old wooden boards, he could just make out a rope bridge connecting the outcropping of rock they were standing on to another part of the cave system, and standing on that bridge with his arms folded was a burly looking man in iron armor. He was positioned so that he’d see whoever came walking out of the tunnel, but he hadn’t startled at the sight of them, so it was just possible that they were hidden from his sight where they were crouching. 

“Let me by,” Ariene breathed, and Brynjolf nodded, letting the lass slip past him. 

She crept forward into the cave, angling herself so that the makeshift wooden wall was between her and the bandit’s line of sight. She scanned the room, a frown creasing her forehead as she did so. Brynjolf raised an eyebrow as she made her way back to him, and she shot him a grim look. 

“There’s no way around him that he wouldn’t notice and raise the alarm,” she murmured. “But I think he’s the only one on guard in this chamber.” 

“Your call, lass,” Brynjolf whispered. “However you want to handle this, I’ll follow your lead.” 

Ariene didn’t say anything for several seconds, and Brynjolf almost wondered if she hadn’t heard him, but then she met his eyes, her gaze hard. 

“I’d draw your weapon if I were you.” 

Brynjolf immediately pulled his daggers free from their sheaths as Ariene turned back towards the bandit. She lifted her bow and pulled back the string, aiming her shot through a gap in the scaffolding. She took a breath in, and on the exhale, let the arrow fly. 

The arrow struck the bandit square in the neck, and he fell back immediately with a gurgled cry. Ariene started to straighten, then cursed and ducked back down, drawing another arrow as a confused call echoed in the room. 

“Rogjar? Are you alright?”

A moment later, a bandit rounded the corner, and on seeing the body on the bridge, he gave a cry of alarm, drawing a sword from his belt. Another bandit joined him in an instant, his own weapon drawn and his eyes hard. They both ignored their fallen comrade and headed across the bridge, right for where Brynjolf and Ariene were hiding. 

Ariene let her second arrow loose, and it caught the bigger of the two bandits on the shoulder. The man staggered, then grunted and shifted his grip on his warhammer. Brynjolf had just enough time to think “Well that’s not a good sign” before a third arrow shot by and caught the first bandit in the thigh, causing him to stumble forward. 

Ariene shot one more arrow, but it missed both targets, and then the larger of the two bandits was on the pair of them, swinging his warhammer towards their heads. Brynjolf rolled forward, slashing out at the man’s legs with his daggers. The thug gave a cry of both pain and surprise as the blades sliced into his flesh; no doubt he was used to people trying to move away from his wide, slow swings, not towards them.  

Brynjolf spun quickly, jabbing one dagger into the back of the man’s neck before he could turn around. The bandit fell forward, and Brynjolf slammed the hilt of his dagger on the top of the man’s skull, just to be safe. He turned back towards the other bandit, just in time to see Ariene strike him across the face with the arm of her bow, knocking him to the ground. She drew her own blade and followed him down, pressing her knee against his chest and slitting his throat before he had a chance to recover. 

She looked up at him, panting slightly, and he nodded to her.

“Alright, Ariene?”

“Fine,” she said, getting to her feet with a grunt and wiping the blood off her blade. “You?” 

Brynjolf turned back to his fallen foe and pulled his dagger out of the man’s back. 

“Right as rain, lass.” 

The two spared a few minutes to roll the bandits’ bodies off the bridge and hide them among the boxes and crates in the pit below. The cavern was far too vast for the bandits to have dug themselves, and Brynjolf spotted a few old burial urns and nordic weapons shoved up against the wall in one corner. 

“Looks like our marks here found an ancient burial ground and converted it into a hideout,” he said conversationally as he rolled one of the corpses behind a pillar and out of sight. 

“And they’re making good use of it, too,” Ariene said. “Look at this.” 

Brynjolf looked to where she was pointing. Crates and barrels full of produce, cured meats, clothing, and other simple goods were stacked along one wall. Beside the crates were entire wagons in various stages of being broken apart, and there, in a shallow pit just off to the side, was a pile of khajiit corpses. 

“They’re not just hassling random travelers or raiding villages,” Ariene said quietly. “They’re attacking whole trade caravans. My guess is they overtake them on the road and force them to unload their goods in here, then kill them so they can’t report on their location.” 

Brynjolf shook his head at the brutality. 

“It’s a damn shame. And Khajiit traders are some of our best customers.” He paused, a fraction of a conversation floating back to his mind. “Tonilia mentioned that there’d been delays along the southwest routes.”

“Looks like we found the culprits,” Ariene said as she stashed a bandit’s body behind one of the carts. “Or some of them, anyway.” 

“I’m no lover of law and order, but I’m amazed that the hold guards were too busy to deal with this,” Brynjolf mused. “I understand not wanting to track down one man’s missing shipment, but these are entire caravans disappearing.”

“Well, I’m sure if they were nord caravans then the local authorities could find it in themselves to spare the resources,” Ariene said, a touch of bitterness in her voice. Brynjolf grimaced.

“Aye…you’re probably right, lass,” he said. “Good thing we’re here to pick up the slack then, eh?”

Ariene smiled briefly, then straightened and drew her bow again.

“At any rate, I don’t see the mold with these crates; I’d wager the more valuable cargo is stashed deeper in the cave. Let’s move further in and see what we can find.” 

The two made their way back up to the upper level and followed the tunnels through the old burial chambers. In one of the large chambers, a makeshift bar had been set up with a few tables and chairs, though the room was thankfully deserted as they passed through. They found more evidence that the ancient nords had used the caves as a burial ground, with more funeral urns, looted crypts, and carved stone doors around every corner. 

True to Ariene’s prediction, most of the bandits were out raiding, leaving the cave system mostly empty. There were a few stragglers here and there, but with the element of surprise on their side, she and Brynjolf had little trouble in dispatching them. Upon entering yet another wide open room set with a few tables and chairs, Ariene turned to Brynjolf and smiled sheepishly. 

“I almost feel bad for dragging you all the way out here now, it seems I would have been able to manage this on my own after all.” 

“Perhaps,” Brynjolf said, picking up a letter from the table and scanning it with little interest. “But between you and me, lass, even if we don’t draw our blades again for the rest of the day, I’m still glad I came. Just because you can handle a job like this on your own doesn’t mean you should have to without backup. Besides, the Guild’s been terribly dull the last few weeks; it’s nice to get out and about for once.” 

They followed another narrow tunnel out of the room, and found themselves in a small chamber with a wooden door blocking their way. Ariene walked up and tested the handle experimentally, then stowed her bow on her back and pulled out her picks. 

“Locked,” she said as she began fiddling with the lock, and Brynjolf snorted. ‘

“Never would have guessed,” he quipped, and Ariene rolled her eyes. 

There was a beat of silence, then Ariene frowned. 

“Odd,” she murmured. “Bryn, give this a try, would you?” 

Brynjolf sheathed his daggers and knelt beside her, taking the picks in his hands. He wasn’t as good at lockpicking as Vex, but he was still pretty damn good at it, so he was surprised when, after a minute or so of trying, one of the picks broke inside the lock. 

“Shit,” Brynjolf swore quietly as he pulled the broken pieces out. 

“This lock is far too strong for a random door in a bandit hole,” Ariene said as Brynjolf pulled out his own pair of picks. “What could be hidden back here?”

“Take a wild guess,” said a gruff voice. 

Brynjolf turned, only to find himself on the wrong end of a very sharp looking sword. He looked up to see a bandit woman in plate armor with war paint in harsh lines across her face glaring down at them. Ariene cursed and reached for her bow, but the woman shook her head and stepped closer, pointing her sword mere inches from Brynjolf’s neck. Ariene froze, and a sneer spread across the woman’s face. 

“Now then,” she said, looking back and forth between the two of them. “What am I going to do with you?”

— — — 

AN: Honestly I love that we've wound up on an entire side quest barely related to the main focus of the story, it feels very on brand for a skyrim story (also I'll talk any excuse to keep having these two dance around each other. :3 )

Prev: Ch.9 Every Cloud... || Next: Ch.11 Fic Masterpost

[rpgsandbox]

25 City Ruins Adventure Seeds

by Robb at readytorole.com

Treasure hunters claim to hear the voices of children playing in a walled off section of the city, but can’t find a way to get in. The voices fade at night but no adults are heard calling them.

A half-ogre calling himself the Baron of the Wastes has taken up residence in the city, and is recruiting any monsters who will work with him. Those who have gotten close enough to hear say that he is looking to build an army to terrorize the countryside.

Strange, colorful lights appear over the city at night swirling and dancing in the sky. In the morning they descend atop a preserved, hard to access tower in the center of the city.

A merchant who has returned from the ruins of the city is selling treasures she has uncovered. A family who claims to be originally from there says that some of those treasures belong to their family but have no proof, and therefore are looking for those who can help.

Giant webs have quickly been cast, covering nearly the entire city in a week. As the webs begin to reach toward local forests and villages and giant spiders have been spotted, panic has erupted and a search for a way to deal with them is underway.

Orcs and trolls have been fighting over control of the ruins for months now, but recently crudely written signs have appeared asking for mercenaries to join the orcs. They claim that they just want to have a place to stay but the trolls are set on destroying the city.

A thick miasma has been emanating from city ruins, making nearby travelers sick with an unknown illness. The local magistrate wants an investigation to take place and put an end to it.

A lone skeleton wearing old, tattered finery was seen near the city, waving arms towards travelers and making strange sounds. Some say it appeared as though it was beckoning them towards the city, but none have been foolish enough to approach.

A large crystal fragment brought back from the city has recently awakened, speaking telepathically to any nearby asking for help. They are claiming to be a soul from the past, and begs those who might be willing to return with them to prevent the city’s destruction to do so.

A black dragon wyrmling has recently made its nest in the city, claiming the area for itself with the help of some kobold followers. A kobold recently came to civilization to hand over a note saying as much and warning people to stay away and pay a tithe.

Ghosts go about their business in an old tavern, not even aware that they’re dead. One lone soul is aware and asks for help finding and burying the physical remains of those inside so that they all may finally rest.

A group of ragged, nearly feral humans and elves have been sighted near the city, causing speculation about their ancestry. Some believe that they are the descendants of those who went into hiding when the city fell and that all efforts should be made to make peace with them.

Every night, glowing footprints appear leading into the city’s marketplace, where they confusingly walk in circles and are hard to follow to any determinable destination. They disappear in the sunlight and show up in a new pattern afterwards.

A giant effigy in the city that can be seen from the road is being built and expanded upon by gnolls, who flock to the city in growing numbers. People are understandably frightened by this, especially since the gnolls appear to be growing in size as the effigy grows.

The Builders Guild is looking to hire some protection in the city as they’ve been contracted to start demolishing and rebuilding parts of the city. Since they started at least one worker gets found turned to stone each day.

Last night, various spells could be seen going off around an intact tower, leading some to believe a wizard has been alive in the city this whole time. A friend of the city’s archmage holds out hope that it is him and wants to make contact with the wizard.

Every year, the villagers that live near the city gather and light candles around the city’s perimeter. They say this wards off the evil spirits and souls of the dead inside the city from coming out and attacking them, but this year the candles won’t stay lit for more than a moment.

Golems made from old debris have been stalking around the city, aggressively attacking nearby travelers by throwing more debris at them. Who made these monsters, and why protect an abandoned pile of rubble?

Buildings in the city have started collapsing, leaving some to wonder what’s going on behind the broken walls. Some brave scouts who have ventured in say that they are seeing huge holes and tunnels appearing under the city, and the buildings are falling in.

A floating castle has drifted over the city and stopped, and long rope ladders have been lowered. The heraldry on the castle and those descending the ladders is entirely unfamiliar to any who see them.

Highwaymen have been harassing travelers and have taken some hostages inside of the city. They are asking for weapons made of silver rather than gold in exchange for their safety.

A beam of red light shines down onto the city, directly onto the temple of the goddess of life. This is an unheard of occurrence, and her followers want answers.

A statue of the ruined city’s first ruler has been successfully excavated and moved to safety into a nearby town. Now, small cracks are appearing and moisture seeps out through the eyes of the statue, leading many to believe it is cursed.

Excavators claim to have uncovered a secret passage under the castle, and say they believe it was filled with treasures unaccounted for by history. However, after the first attack by undead, they would rather experienced adventurers clear it out in exchange for a cut of the treasure.

According to the local alchemist, a very rare gem is required to make the antidote to the plague that is spreading around. The last known location of one is set in the throne in the heart of the ruined city.