#they need to travel through the mountains to reach their capitol and -of course- they make him walk the whole way

[befuddled-calico-whump]

thinking about a whumpee on a forced march through rough terrain

hands tied in front of them, on foot while their captors are mounted, sleeping out in the open, forced to beg for adequate food and water

maybe they're barefoot, a captured royal in silken robes

maybe they're in a torn suit or soldier's uniform

maybe they were stripped at the start, increasing the exposure to the elements, the humiliation

are they a terrified mess from the beginning, or do they try to endure with dignity? how long before they're stumbling, barely putting one foot in front of the other? how long before they fall?

[bokettochild]

For the fluff prompt thing, how about Time and Hyrule? Maybe something with fairies? Thanks!

I did some Fairy Hyrule for you, Anon!

Sorry I didn't get this done sooner, I've been busier than I expected since I opened up asks. I hope this is along the lines of what you wanted!

Time is safe.

When first he’d met all the other heroes, Hyrule had felt wary and uncertain. After all, it’s only in the castle and Mama’s cave that he’s ever known safety, and strangers are nearly always bad news if they’re being friendly with him.

And these strangers were very friendly.

Most of them had greeted him with smiles when he’d been dropped into their camp, their explanation being that a goddess of some kind wanted him to help them with something. Hyrule had never heard much about any goddesses, although he’d seen a statue or two in his travels, but most of the other people here seemed to know what was up, and they were only too eager to tell him.

And by too eager, he meant too eager. They were entirely too friendly with a stranger, and only two of them seemed interested in giving him his space: the one with the pink stripe in his hair and the one with lots of armor. He learns their names first: Legend and Time.

Legend is just as wary of him as he is of Legend, but Time... Time stares after him blankly, unreadable. Even so, the exotic taste of curiosity rolls across his tongue as a single royal blue orb stares at him, heavy and yet weightless.

Time is warm. Warm in a way that Hylians don’t know, that only the forest people and animals know. He is Safe, he is Comfort, and he is Known. Hyrule doesn’t know what it is, doesn’t know what makes the older hero so, but he finds that he is drawn to the man’s side, that he leeches comfort from him.

“Again?” The vet’s violet gaze is flat, but Time can see the warmth in it regardless.

During the night, Hyrule has become wrapped around Time as tightly as a limpet, and as the Vet stands over the two of them, looking down at where Time attempts to free himself from Hyrule’s grasp, he chuckles softly.

“Kid has an iron grip.” Time offers apologetically as he falls back on his bedroll, Hyrule’s sleeping form still clinging to him. “Sorry, legend, I don’t think I can take over watch as planned.”

The vet smirks. “Yeah, no. Rest, Old Man, he’s not letting you go until morning when he turns fairy pink when he wakes up.”

And Legend’s right, when Hyrule wakes up the next morning that is exactly what he does when Warriors starts teasing him, and while Time reassures the youngster that he doesn’t mind all that much, Hyrule looks utterly mortified.

“I don’t do that, not normally. It’s not safe to sleep close to other people.” The traveler whispers to legend on the road that day.

His mentor glances over at him knowingly. “Only people you don’t trust. Hasn’t Time earned your trust yet?”

“Has he earned yours?” Bushy brows pull together as Hyrule looks down at his friend.

Legend snorts a laugh, shoving his hands in his pockets absently. “Of course not, but I don’t really trust most folks, not about myself anyways. But you? You’re my successor, and if there’s one person I’d trust to look out for you if I couldn’t, it’d be the guy in a giant suit of armor who wields a sword that’s bigger than me. Least ways, he’s the least likely to get you killed.”

And Hyrule Knows, knows with a capitol ‘k’, that that means one thing in short: Legend trusts Time and Hyrule both, and he trusts both of them to take care of each other. That’s all he needs. Legend isn’t called the vet for nothing after all, and from what the two of them have seen, their worlds are the worst off and most dangerous, so if they both agree that Time is someone to be trusted, then he’s safe.

A whispering voice in his mind tells him he knew that already.

He’s woken up clinging to Time so many times in the morning, even if he wasn’t anywhere near the man when he fell asleep, that he’s given up trying to avoid it. Time seems to appreciate the warmth and contact as much as he does anyways, and the man always looks lighter in the mornings.

Hyrule wishes he was there now, curled up under Time’s arm and resting his head against the older man’s chest, breath coming deep and soft as sleep slowly seeps its way across his body. He wishes he was back in camp, holding on tight to someone and leaching heat off of them with a contented sigh. He wishes he could free his wings and rest against Time’s side while drinking sugar water and listening to the melodic hum of Time’s voice.

But he isn’t there. He isn’t with Time or the others. He’s stranded in Legend’s Hyrule, hiding out in the entrance to a dungeon with Four curled close to his side, the both of the shaking in the cold and wet as rain seeps down through the dungeon door to puddle at their feet.

It’s cold, and wet, and dark.

But at least the monsters can’t find them.

It’d been the work of mere minutes to defeat all the monsters in the room, and while they have a key and tool to pass on through the dungeon, that’s not their intent; the two small heroes just want a place out of sight and out of the rain while they figure out what to do.

Four sneezes.

“Did any of the others mention a camping spot?” Hyrule muses aloud, leaning back against the cold stone walls that line the room and trying to ignore the running of his own nose, or the puffiness of his face.

“Kakariko.” Four sniffles, rubbing his face and arms and fingers in an effort to warm up. “They said it was a couple hours yet though.”

Great. They’d fallen to the back of the group when Four had seen two minish trying to help one of their wounded friends over to a burrow. Naturally, Four had offered them help, and Hyrule had trailed along so Four wouldn’t be alone.

The minish village was only a quick dart away from the path, but by the time they had got back, they had found that the others had moved on and a couple ‘blins stood on the path instead. It took a bit of effort to kill the monsters, but once they were done and continued along the path, one thing after another had gone wrong, and they’d been left here; cold, alone, and with no way to hunt down the others in the sopping wet of the storm outside.

Four sneezed again.

“We need to find them.” Hyrule whispers softly, even though in the big room he knows that Four will hear it too. He doesn’t care. He’s cold and tired and his feet hurt from being cold and standing on stone floors for so long, and he really wants to be warm and safe again.

“We can’t.” Four sniffles softly, brows drawn in irritation as he wipes his nose for the nth time. “They didn’t leave a trail we can follow, and besides, they’re probably already looking for us, it’s been a few hours.”

“How will they find us if we’re in here though?”

“We churned up actual mountains of dirt to get in here when that Like-Like chased us down, they’ll notice.”

A smile flits across his face, even in their predicament, he can’t resist a light jab at his brother. “Were they actually mountains though? Or did they just look like it?”

Bright blue shimmers up at him. “I will come for your ankles if you say that again.”

Hyrule’s grin grows, and he’s about to respond, about to tell Four that of course it’s his ankles, the shorter hero can’t reach anything else, but then something brushes his senses. Something Safe, and Warm and Known.

“Time.”

“We haven’t even started fighting yet.” Four cocks a brow.

“No, Time’s coming.” Hyrule’s feet carry him to the door, steps light and head cocked on one side as if he was listening.

He’s not sure how he knows, how he feels it, but he does. Time is close, he’s getting closer every minute and-

Hyrule throws the door open and rockets into the warmth and safety that is Time’s arms, sighing in contentment as something within purrs happily at the closeness of the older man. Time is Safe. Time is Warm and Time is Known.

Warriors’ Hyrule is big.

The towns are bigger than anything Hyrule’s ever seen, even Hyrule Castle itself, and don’t get him started on the cities!

Hyrule felt very small standing in the market of Castletown.

People bustled to and fro, baskets on their arms, carts at hand, children and animals trailing behind and dust dirt and NOISE following them. It was really getting to be too much, and Hyrule was going to wear out the hem of his tunic in no time with the way he was rubbing at it.

Wars led the way through the town confidently, stopping to greet people and make exchanges as the rest of them followed after. Hyrule really wished Wars had agreed to take the non-suffocating and anxiety triggering path to Hyrule Castle, but he hadn’t said as much and Wars had already said they needed supplies.

It would be fine; he could hold out a bit longer. He couldn’t.

The others followed Warriors’ lead, Sky keeping holf of Legend and Four both while Wind kept close to Wild. It was important they didn’t let the smaller members of their party be caught up in the crowd, but some of them looked torn between hating being watched like kids, and taking comfort in the security of it all.

Oh man, Hyrule would love nothing more than to switch places with them. Sky was always warm and safe, even if he was mighty trusting, and Twilight’s big hands always enveloped everyone else's so that they felt secure in knowing they wouldn’t be pulled away.

Delicate fingers unconsciously reached out and caught hold of the hand beside them.

Time started at the contact, gaze traveling quickly down to where Hyrule’s small hand had caught hold of his own, broken nails and calloused finger pads clutching tightly against his own weathered skin. The traveler hung close, tucked in on himself and shying away for contact with strangers.

The image of a small boy dressed in green trying to weave through a bustling town, his fairy hidden in his hat so she wouldn’t be lost as he was jostled and knocked into by strangers and possible enemies and people who stared and watched and bumped.

Time clasped the hand in his a bit firmer, watching with satisfaction as Hyrule’s shoulders relaxed slightly.

Warm. Safe. Known.

Time gasped awake, eyes flying wide open as harsh breaths surged through his lungs to catch in his throat and make him gasp for air. He didn’t know at what point he’d sat up, didn’t know when he’d turned his gaze over to survey their camp, blue eyes trailing over sleeping forms and mind frantically counting the young heroes around him.

Wind curled up on top of Wars.

Two.

Four nestled between Twilight and Wild (a good place, they both slept hot).

Five.

Hyrule curled up next to Legend’s empty bedroll, Sky just a few feet away, lost in the folds of his sail-cloth.

Seven.

Legend, sitting with his back to the flames as he watched Time, sword bare across his equally bare knees.

Eight.

“You okay, old man?” The vet raised one brow, expression almost judgemental if you didn’t know him, eyes lidded and scowl set.

Time didn’t answer. Shivers wracked his frame, cloudiness refusing to leave his mind as his thoughts and emotions swirled within.

Safe. Home. Safe. Home.

He wanted to be safe. He wanted to be home. He wanted to blink awake in his own treehouse with Navi scolding him for sleeping in, and then run down to the fields to play with Malon and Epona.

He wanted Navi to pinch his ear and tell him that he should have known better than to sleep without a blanket.

He wants Navi to curls up in his hair and Sing.

Time doesn’t process what he’s doing, but Legend watches in surprise as the man grips ahold of his blanket and softly creeps over to the others. Legend’s empty bedroll is as cold and firm as a rock, but Time doesn’t seem to even notice that it’s there, curling up around Hyrule with a sigh that says he’s not entirely awake.

Soft lights shimmer over the pair as Time drifts off again, the creases of his brow smoothing as the warm and constant buzz of Hyrule’s soft snores washes over him.

Legend sighs, stretching his legs and looking up at the sky.

He’ll just sleep on Time’s bedroll tonight he supposes.

[afni-fics]

Elder Scrolls DC - A Reluctant Dragonborn - Chapter 14: Not of This World (Part 1)

Elder Scrolls DC - A Reluctant Dragonborn - Chapter 14: Not of This World (Part 1) by C_R_Scott Chapters: 14/? Fandom: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim, Red Robin (Comics), DCU (Comics) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Characters: Tim Drake, Lucien Flavius Additional Tags: Crossover, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Skyrim/DCU crossover, Reluctant Dovahkiin | Dragonborn, Not Beta Read, Alternate Universe - Skyrim Fusion, Modded Skyrim, Skyrim Spoilers, Tim Drake is Dragonborn | Dovahkiin, Batfamily-centric (DCU), Tim Drake-centric

Previous Chapter | Masterlist | Next Chapter

Summary:

After completing their exploration of Bleak Falls Barrow, Tim and Lucien rest for the night. While resting, the pair finally begin to speak with one another.

-------------------------

Several hours after completing their excursion into Bleak Falls Barrow, Lucien Flavius was sitting by a crackling fire within an abandoned stone shelter that he and Timothy had found tucked away at the base of the mountain the Barrow rested atop of. It was a fortunate thing they had found the shelter as, when they emerged from the ruins, the sun had mostly dipped below the horizon and the skies were threatening to release a downpour. There wasn't enough time to return to Riverwood before the coming storm, and while Timothy had the sense to carry camping supplies to set up a tent for the night, it was questionable if they'd be able to get it set up before the rain really started coming down. Spotting the stone shelter was stroke of luck and allowed the pair of them just enough time to gather enough wood to start a campfire so they could keep warm through the night. 

Lucien had most of the contents of his backpack spread out before him as he was completing a catalog in his journal of all the artifacts he had been able to collect. Though it was fairly late in the evening, he was no stranger to late night research, and he really wanted to take stock of all he had learned over the course of this adventurous day while everything was still fresh on his mind. 

But then, the scholar paused as his eyes flitted over to where Timothy laid fast asleep on his bedroll beneath his fur cloak for a blanket. "Timothy Drake-Wayne," Lucien said to himself as he studied Tim's face in the fire light. He watched the younger man as he slept and thought about everything that had spoken about earlier that evening. 

***

The fire had finally roared to full life with a careful application of a well aimed fire spell, and while Lucien was grateful for its warmth and light, he could tell Timothy seemed uneasy with it. His gaze seemed haunted as he stared at the flames eagerly consuming the logs of woods. Lucien was confused for a moment, but then he remembered the young man's awful wounds.

"He was burned by the same dragon that destroyed Helgen," Lucien mused silently as he watched Tim shake himself out of his thoughts and began to  pull out some dried meat and fruit. "What must it have been like to be in that place while that creature was burning it to the ground around him? Why was he even in Helgen in the first place? He's clearly not a Nord... Still don't know where he's from."

Tim was in the process of offering Lucien some of his food to share when the young man paused and gave him an odd look.

"Hm?" Lucien asked.

"You're doing it again."

"Doing what again?"

Tim frowned. "Looking at me like I'm a puzzle you're trying to solve."

Lucien gave him a small guilty smile. "I suppose I am." He reached into is own bag and pulled out a few items of food as well, some bread and cheese, and offered a portion to Tim as well.

Tim sighed as he took just a piece of bread and just stared at it for a long moment. 

"Timothy," Lucien started. "In the Barrow I promised you I would listen to your story with an open mind, and I know you said you would tell me after getting out of that place. However, if you're not ready to speak of it yet, I understand." He tried to give the young man a reassuring expression. "I'm going to theorize surviving Helgen was quite an ordeal, especially with the injuries you suffered. If you need more time to process everything before you can share anything with me... Well... While I admit I am quite curious about you, I do know the value of being patient." Lucien smiled kindly. "And if it helps, perhaps you would like to know more about me first? After all, I'm a perfect stranger to you as well. It's only fair, right?"

That seemed to put Tim a little more at ease. A tension that had been in his expression relaxed and he released a breath that he had been holding with a small nod. "I'd like that."

***

So while they ate another small meal, Lucien told Timothy a little more about himself. He described where he was from in Cyrodiil and told him about both his mother and father. He explained how he came to Skyrim in the first place, at the invitation of an old family friend who'd started a museum up in the capitol city of Solitude, and about all the things he was looking forward to investigating and exploring Skyrim, from more Nordic ruins to Dwemer architecture as well as hunting down several rare historic artifacts that were rumored to be hidden region.

Tim listened to it all with great interest, though at points it was clear he seemed to not quite understand some of what was said, and that the lack of his own knowledge seemed to frustrate him. Finally, he seemed to reach some breaking point within himself. 

"Lucien... Do you have a map of the world?"

"The world?" Lucien was a little confused. He reached into his bag though. "I have a map of Tamriel." He pulled it out and spread it out on the floor of their shelter, using a few stones to hold the corners of the map to keep it from folding back in on itself. 

Tim leaned in and studied the map curiously. Lucien watched, intrigued, as the younger man reached out and traced parts of the map with his fingertips. There was something odd about his companion's expression as he looked at the map. Something about the way the man's blue eyes roamed the entire span of the document, as if searching for something he just couldn't find...

Then a flash of insight struck Lucien. 

"Timothy?" he started cautiously. "Does nothing on that map look familiar to you?"

Tim didn't answer immediately. His expression was guarded as he kept his eyes on the map, refusing to raise them to Lucien. Then he closed his eyes and slowly shook his head.

Despite the heat from the roaring campfire, Lucien felt an chill run through him. "Then... Where on Nirn do you come from, if not from Tamriel?" The scholar's mind was racing with possibilities. Tim was so fair-skinned the native homeland of the dark-skinned Redguards, Yokuda, was not a likely option. Atmora, once the northern homeland of the ancient Nords, was a frozen and barren wasteland now. Nothing and no one lived there in recent memory as far as Lucien could recall. Pyandonea seemed unlikely as they were home mostly to elves, not human beings. Perhaps he was from Akavir, though rumor says only serpent men live there now? 

All of Lucien's theories came to a screeching halt in his mind as Tim finally looked at him, a confused expression on his face. "Nirn? Is that another continent, or is that the name of the entire world?"

-------------------------

Warning: This is being pantsed more than plotted, and this is not beta read. We'll see where this journey takes us. Mostly I'm just doing this for my own amusement.

Note1: If you have any questions about the playthrough and Tim's feelings/experiences that aren't described in the chapters, please ask me in the comments. I'll do my best to answer your questions as best I can.

Note2: Map source images: https://www.imperial-library.info/content/maps-tamriel

I included two maps. This first is one that I think would be like what Lucien would carry around on his travels. (I really wish I had the skill to draw my own maps). The second map is one showing the approximate locations of the other continents Lucien was musing on before Tim dropped his little bombshell.

As I write this part of Tim and Lucien's interactions, I'm starting to feel out how the world of Nirn might be connected to DCU Earth Tim comes from, at least in the back of my mind.

#elder scrolls dc#fanfiction#tim drake#skyrim fanfiction#batfam fanfic#red robin#batfam#crossover#lucien flavius#wip#afewnovelideas

[simplysoriya]

The Eternal Serpent

{Prologue, pt1}

Chapter 2: Unrest in Uldum

Weeks had passed since Soriya had enlisted her father's help in her tomb delving exploits. Initially skeptical of allowing another to muscle in on her claim, a concession was made as the stubborn rogue refused to drop the topic. She couldn’t deny that the pace had slowed considerably over the year long obsession as the doors continually closed on her leads. The dismal feeling of having every effort only fail and falter was beginning to wear down even the most stalwart of believers.

But Kirollis, for his part, had helped to reinvigorate the search. He asked about it constantly, whether it was morning, noon, evening or night. Probing little details and picking her brain when it came to the more obscure parts of the story. Investigative skills that she lacked were evened out with his interest, and with her faltering motivation? It provided just the right boost for Soriya to press on unfretted.

While his intent was deeply rooted in helping his daughter, and less so in unearthing ancient Pandarian legends? It was genuine effort nonetheless.

The proposed option of Uldum was chief among their discussions. Offering Soriya a completely untapped location to throw herself into. It was the missing suggestion she needed to delve deeper into the mysterious desert, a previously unconsidered option.

It wasn’t the longest journey to the Golden Sands of Uldum. While the demand for portals to the oasis among the wasteland was scarce, leading them to be discontinued in the capitol. It didn’t stop the duo from securing a ride from a cargo ship out of Zandalar. With its market now a melting pot of cultures, it made finding routes to remote locations just a little easier if one had enough coin and knew who to ask. Another task that Kirollis excelled at.

The central city off the eastern riverbank, Ramhaken, was a sight to behold. A city built next to one of the only habitable places in the whole area. Ancient sandstone structures punctuated with their own unique architecture afforded to a culture that spent its time in seclusion, hidden away from the rest of the world. A bastion of civilization in an otherwise untenable area that stood out like a jewel upon approach. Like a reprieve from the harsh sun and sand that made up most of the locale. It was an oasis, and one with running water to boot.

There was no attempts to hide her wonder as Soriya stepped through the archways into the city. Excitement in her eye as her mouth hung open while taking it all in. One of the rare locations she had never visited, when she finally saw it? The glimmer in her features was unmistakable as her seafoam colored eyes bounced from structure to person with no discernable pattern.

Eventually, however, her eyes did stop to admire the main structure situated in the center. Soon after darting over in Kirollis’ direction, “So pop…. What exactly was your plan here? You know there’s a lot of desert and mountains, right?” Soriya quipped to her fathers act first think later policy that had propelled them to the bottom of Kalimdor.

“Ye of little faith.” The rogue replied with a smirk. “You know half of investigating is like… going places and asking questions right? It’s part of the process. Heck, if we’re right about it maybe being here? I wouldn’t be surprised if the Ramhaken had a similar story that got passed down.”

“Really?” Soriya asked as that same wonderment filled her voice. “I’ve only ever met a few of them. They have such a beautiful city though, I can’t believe I never thought to visit.” The young monk added a smile along with her thoughts.

Kirollis, however, paused to give his daughter an incredulous look, “You mean to tell me that -you-, miss world traveler galore, has never been to Ramhaken?”

“Nope! Not even Uldum if we’re being honest. I mean I like sand but… not… like… sandpaper sand. I went to this beach party in Tanaris once and went wandering. I have no idea how it happened but sand even got in my canteen. I didn’t like it.”

Kirollis tipped his head to the side, finding that a valid point. “Yeah sand sucks. Especially in leather armor.” Accentuating that point by looping his fingers into his leather codpiece as if to reference it. Taking a deep breath he would add on exhale, “I can feel the rashes already.”

“Sucks for you.” Soriya replied. No stranger to shifting climates and far more malleable than her father. The young monk had chosen far more weather appropriate attire.

“Yeah, well, I don’t exactly pull off short shorts and flip flops as well as you do.” Kirollis bemoaned.

“You rocked the hell out of that bedazzled shirt.”

“You’re damn skippy, I did.” Kirollis confirmed proudly. “Anyways, I know a couple of people from back in my uh… less savory days. I’ll check in with them and see if I can kick up any dust.” Looking over to Soriya, who was still enamored by the sights, he offered, “You want to poke around the market?”

“Sure.” Soriya agreed. “Maybe I can even find you a pair of shorts.” Though one look at the native Ramhaken and their unique lower halves and that youthful face of hers soured. “I’ll have to get back to you on that one, though…”

The rogue snickered and shook his head, “I’ll be fine. Don’t get into too much trouble, okay?”

“That’s really funny coming from you.” Soriya said in a tired tone, one that distinctly held no laughter with it.

With their objectives doled out the father daughter duo split up to their respective tasks. While Kirollis had sunk into the shadows, as he often did, Soriya had a markedly different approach. Walking right up to the first market stall in the bustling city center she saw. Flashing a bright curl of her lips directed at its owner.

Breezy silk shawls and finery lined the small stall that the Ramhaken stood in. Looking every bit proud of his colorful and light wares. “Hello there. Something catch your eye, young one?” He said with a smile to match Soriyas own.

Soriya took a moment to look over the goods. Even pinching her index finger and thumb on an orange scarf to feel the material. “They’re all really pretty…” She spoke her mind. Though a brighter purple piece with golden trim did end up ceasing her attention. “Oh I like this one!” She proclaimed before pulling the garment from the rack.

“A fine choice.” The vendor replied with a confident nod. “Although… For one such as yourself? I would recommend brighter, more vibrant colors.”

“Oh it’s not for me.” Soriya stated in a chipper tone.

“Ah, I am sure they will love it, then.” Reaching a hand up to rub against his chin for a moment of consideration, the catlike Ramhaken finally said, “I will give it to you for two gold and some silver. It is very rare material, spun from the silks of a foreign spider cave.”

“Pandaria?” Soriya gasped out as her objective came to the forefront.

The Ramhaken snickered, “No, no child. There is a cave to the west.”

The young monk frowned at the revelation. Of course it wouldn’t be that easy. “Oh, I was just sort of hoping. Me and my dad are looking for this Pandarian thing we think is around here.” Soriya explained as she dug into her pocket for some coins before handing them over. Taking a moment to look at her new purchase soon after.

“That is strange. You’re the second to speak of Pandaria recently. I believe the other man who asked me is staying in the inn, maybe you can ask him about your lost ‘thing’.” The Ramhaken offered.

Soriyas eyes went wide at the revelation before they peeked over the fabric, “Wait, the inn?” Her head swivelling as if to try and spot it. “Where’s the inn?”

The vendor merely chuckled once more before pointing it out, “Good luck on your journey!” He called out to the mistweaver as she scampered off.

There was a skip in her step as she swiftly made her way toward the lodge, brustling right passed the rest of the market with a fluttering sense of interest. Even marking a few of the other stalls down as places to check out later. But she didn’t make it passed the last stall before a hand grasped onto her arm and tugged her into a back alley.

While she resisted at first, the mysterious Ramhaken merely said, “You search for the temple.” Before continuing to usher her along into a more secluded alleyway.

“Wait, what? Th- yes! Yes I’m looking for a temple. How did you know?”

The armored Ramhaken scoffed before shaking his head, “I overheard you speaking to the silk merchant.” He confessed in a deep, yet low, tone. “You are far too trusting…. That merchant would feed you to the wolves at his first convenience….”

Soriya’s brows knit together at the offered information. Though it wasn’t the first time her trusting nature had been called into question, hearing it from a stranger always stung just a little bit more. “I just figured maybe he would know where to look?”

“Mmm, and he would sooner kill you then let you in on his claim.”

“Wha--?” Soriya managed out, genuinely confused, as the telltale click of a hammer being pulled back on a revolver sounded.

“Sori, didn’t I tell you to stay out of trouble?” Kirollis appeared behind the Ramhaken with the barrel of his gun pointed toward the natives head. “Because I was pretty sure back alley deals were my thing.”

“No! Dad wai--...” Soriya tried to explain the situation, though once again she was too late to stop the litany of moving parts. Swiftly the trio was flanked by two local guards, both with sharp spears pointed at the visiting elves.

“You dare come to our city and threaten our officials? You Azerothians are all the same.” The guard grunted out before prodding Kirollis with his spear, prompting the rogue to lower his weapon.

“You’re from Azeroth too man…” Kirollis quipped in a low tone. Only to recieve a swift elbow to his side from Soriya.

“Dad you aren’t helping.”

“Take them away.” The politician stated as he flashed a sympathetic look to Soriya. Seemingly unable to stymie the situation, or perhaps jilted by Kirollis sudden threat. Whatever his reasoning, he did not seem to be a friend anymore.

“....father of the year right here. We could have gone to jail somewhere more local.” Soriya stated in an exasperated tone.

“Listen! Some weird guy pulls yo-”

THWAK the guards now pushing them away from the market whacked Kirollis over the head. “Enough talking from you.”

[creativerogues]

Campaign Diary #5: The Journey Home...

RECAP!

When we last left our Heroes, they were resting within the Forests of Valdor, after a failed attempt to slay the Local Green Dragon by the name of Danae, the Deathlady.

This Session begins with the Party waking to their new priority, resurrecting the Party’s Tabaxi Bard, Foot.

Campaign Diary #5: ‘Operation: Fuzzy Rising’...

The Session begins at dawn, with Hard Hat ritual casting his Phantom Steed Spell twice to create two shadowy mounts for the Group to ride until they reach whatever town or city is nearby.

Hard Hat’s Player even notes that he could've done it last night, since Ritual Casting does not use up a Spell Slot, he just forgot about that during the Session… Whoops!

So the Party (who slept next to the dead body of their Bard Friend! Just... So you know...) packs everything up, and Kentucky takes the body of Foot the Tabaxi Bard and decides to carry it across his shoulders, which I ruled as Kentucky 'technically carrying’ Foot, since Foot's dead body could technically be considered an object for the purposes of the amount of people the phantom steeds could carry…

I know, I'm too kind…

So with that, Hard Hat and Potosh take one Phantom Steed, and Kentucky (carrying Foot) takes the other; with Whinny, the Kenku Rogue currently frozen thanks to a Spell Scroll gone awry, put on Kentucky's Phantom Steed.

So with about 30 Minutes of the Phantom Steeds left, Hard Hat casts See Invisibility on himself (covering his face with talc and powdered silver in the process), just so he can keep an eye out for any Invisible Green Dragons that just so happen to be nearby…

And the Party is off! Travelling about 5 Miles by Phantom Steed and out of the Region of Danae’s Lair, with Potosh navigating them and Hard Hat keeping an eye on the skies…

And Kentucky carrying two bodies: But only one is dead, so… yay?

So with that done, and the Party now (still) in the Forests of Valdor (albeit in a less dragon-filled domain), they had a lot of issues to fix, the main two being the frozen Rogue and the Dead Bard currently strapped to the Barbarian's back…

There’s also the issue of the Giant Green Dragon... And Potosh’s Pet Bear, who is currently strewn across Danae’s Cavern Lair, but that’s probably for another time…

The Party travels for a while by Phantom Steed, resting while Hard Hat ritual casts Phantom Steed over and over, with Kentucky taking flight and scouting the Local Area in the hopes of finding a small town or city.

And they do! Huzzah!

Kentucky spots a small town to the south-east and notes that there seems to be a Church there, though it seems a little run-down…

And with the Short Rest over, the Group gets back on their Phantom Steeds and travels towards this town in the middle of nowhere...

As the approach, they see large wooden spikes impaled into the ground to form a fence, though they seem a little battered from previous incursions of the Green Dragon variety...

They go in on foot (rather than Phantom Steed) and walk up to the small Church to see if a Cleric is there.

But when they walk in, they find that the town has turned this old and tiny church into a makeshift tavern and inn, barely surviving in the middle of nowhere, with most people passing through as they moved west over the mountains.

The Party starts to lose hope, with the Bartender telling them to leave (because they did just drag in the stinking and rotting corpse of a Tabaxi Bard with them…) and as they turn to leave and exit, they're followed by an individual.

As Hard Hat begins to cast the Tiny Hut on the outside of town for the Party to rest in, they're approached by a battered, tired old half-orc woman in old and tattered clothes, and struggling to stand on her own two feet, using a wooden stick like a crutch.

She introduces herself as Agn-is Thrak (or Thrak as the Party called her), and she says she can help raise their Friend, as they seemed lost and tired without him, though she requests payment in the form of a favour.

These guys are just racking up favours with NPCs now… But I’m not complaining...

She tells the Party to follow her into the woods outside of town, and she begins to ask the Party questions about Foot as they travel, asking if Foot was a good man, how long ago he died, and if he had any unfinished business...

By the time they get to where Thrak wants them, she asks the Party to sit cross-legged in a circle around Foot's Body, and think about Foot and the life he had as she begins her ritual.

She then asks if the Party has the massive amount of diamonds necessary to cast the Spell, and when they say that they're practically penniless, Thrak takes pity and opens up her pack to reveal a small wooden chest, and upon opening it, the Party sees a small fortune's worth of diamonds, a good thousand gold or more of the stuff.

Thrak then takes a deep breath and a handful of diamonds from her wooden chest, and begins to sprinkle them across Foot's Body as she mutters some strange words in both Orcish and Celestial.

And the Party waits for a moment as the diamonds lay there on Foot's Body, and individually, each diamond cracks and shatters of it's own accord, becoming a fine dust that seeps into the wounds of Foot's Body and begins to undo the decay from the past week or so Foot has been decomposing.

Foot's Body looks as good as the day he died now, and with that, Foot's eyes open slowly, as if someone waking up from a deep sleep.

Foot sits up, then stands, and the rest of the Party stands up, as Thrak embraces Foot and welcomes him back into the World of the living.

HURRAY! Foot is back!

And as the Party reunites, albeit with a still frozen Kenku Rogue, Thrak asks for her favour to be paid immediately...

Just a tad bit awkward...

The Party does, of course, accept and asks what she wants, and initially she says that she just doesn't want to feel tired anymore, she wants to be able to disappear without anyone trying to find her.

Hard Hat comes up with a few ideas while the rest of the Party is still celebrating having their Bard back, with Foot being obviously confused as to what the heck is happening right now...

A Potion or Scroll of some sort to make her undetectable by any means, or some kind of Magic Item to make someone more resistant to the effects of Exhaustion or Fatigue.

Hard Hat then realises he has some contacts, and decides to cast Sending to Kenzo, the Wood Elf Rogue and fledgling Guild-Master to the Thieves Guild she's creating in the Capitol City, with Hard Hat asking if Kenzo could find any kind of Magical Items that could make someone unable to be found or physically change someone's appearance: Kenzo being an Expert Rogue and all...

Kenzo replies and says it might take her a while, but she could get what she thinks they need, and tells Hard Hat to meet her outside the Capitol to make the hand off and payment.

Hard Hat relays this to the Group, and together they decide that taking their Ship (the one they left up north) is probably their best bet, but none of them want to travel through Danae's Domain again, and so choose to travel through the Himmelblas Mountains.

Hard Hat then asks Thrak is she's willing to travel with them to gain her payment, and she accepts, because why wouldn't she?

Hard Hat, the curious little tortle that he is, then asks if anyone in the Party might know of someone in the Silver Charge Mercenary Company, the Mercenaries for Hire that work around the Himmelblas.

Kentucky says he remembers a fella, a big ol' Minotaur that stayed in Coppiborough before going back down South.

Hard Hat then sends a message to this big ol' Minotaur fella within the Silver Charge, asking him to meet the Party on the highest peak of the southern himmelblas and escort them back up north in exchange for coin.

And he receives a reply, a deep and gruff voice saying that the Party should meet him on the peak for sun-down, and he and his group will escort them north at a price of one gold piece each, per person per day.

Kentucky then butts in to say he and Potosh will go scout out the peak, and Potosh wildshapes into a Squirrel, with Kentucky picking him up and the two going about scouting the area for a safe place on the highest peak in the area, where they're not likely to be seen by any wandering monsters...

They find a spot and fly back to Hard Hat and the now resurrected Foot, and relay to everyone the point they should meet at.

Then Kentucky and Potosh make their way ahead while Hard Hat casts his Phantom Steed Ritual yet again. Kentucky flying off overhead while Potosh rides on Kentucky's back in the form of an extra fluffy cat, with massive claws digging into Kentucky "just in case"...

Do cats like heights?

Kentucky and Potosh get to the meeting point, and Foot, Hard Hat (who now has a frozen Whinny the Rogue strapped to his shell with rope) and Thrak the Half-Orc following behind, all meet at the point, Hard Hat casting the Tiny Hut to keep everyone warm while they wait.

As dusk comes, the sun sets, and the Party is still waiting, with Hard Hat passing the time by apologising profusely to Foot for casting the Spell that killed him, explaining how he was charmed by Danae and would've helped the Party if he could have...

The Party continues to chat, with Thrak saying that no good man intends to cause consequences, and Hard Hat is a good man.

This is until they hear a voice shout for a Magic-User.

Hard Hat pops out his head to see, strangely enough, another Tortle!

And behind this Tortle stands a seven foot tall Minotaur, and a noticeably shorter Human Man in arcane attire.

The first thing the three do is ask if the Party can pay, and the Party manages to convince these Silver Charge Members that they can indeed pay them despite having no funds right now…

The three Silver Charge Members then request that everyone sleeps here until morning, where they'll escort the Party north, reaching the Northernmost Part of the Valdorian Side of the Himmelblas in about a week or two...

The Human Wizard (who the Party hasn't even asked his name yet...) then casts a very familiar Tiny Hut, but this version seems to be a deep blue and white, and sparkles with glints of some kind of metallic substance.

The three Silver Charge Members then climb into their own Tiny Hut as everyone gets ready for a sleepover on a mountaintop...

And so the session ends with what is now a Party of Nine! Count them... NINE! With a Elderly Female Half-Orc Paladin and three Silver Charge Members waiting to ride out north at dawn...

Are the Party ever going to get revenge on Danae? Maybe....

But who cares! That’s help out this one NPC!

[daedriclorde]

Krent Mon Do Akatosh

Homecoming; Chapter 1, “Forged By Fire and Steel”

Read it here on Ao3!

Riften.

The old woman’s raspy whisper echoed in Aerisif’s ears. The word had been rebounding in her mind since she had spoken with the contact two days ago. It made the pit in her stomach, that Aerisif could normally ignore, burn and twist.

Riften.

Aerisif sighed, and shifted in her saddle. Shadowmere continued to trek along through the snow, her red eyes igniting the clouds billowing from her nostrils. When the Night Mother told Aerisif to meet the bitter crone in Dawnstar, Aerisif thought she had landed an easy contract. She didn’t even need to travel to meet the contact and learn the specifics of her target. Could anyone a frail old woman wanted dead be a worthy adversary? Aerisif would be back within a few days, at most.

A bandit had killed this woman’s only daughter, and she wanted revenge. It was a story Aerisif heard often enough. But when she asked where to find the bandit, her heart nearly stopped.

Although that had been two days past, Aerisif had delayed in embarking on this journey. She had made claims to Nazir and Babette that she needed to rest, to heal, even to test the new recruits, before she could take on the next contract. They both accepted her excuses, but Aerisif expected that the shrewd pair saw them for what they were. Excuses. But her family would not confront her with their suspicions. They trusted Aerisif, as she had proven herself to them time and time again.

The real reason Aerisif dreaded this contract was not one she would share with her newfound family, although she felt that perhaps she ought to have. After all, Nazir and Babette were all the family she had left.

For however long they, or I, last, Aerisif thought.

They would not be the first family torn from Aerisif. Her birth family was stolen from her long, long ago, as a child in the Reach. Forsworn had raided her family’s farm while she had been out foraging in the mountains. Young Aerisif returned to find her home razed, the crops torched, and her family as desiccated corpses. Fire and steel had taken away all the child had ever known.

Soft snowflakes landed on Aerisif’s hood, and she pulled her cloak tighter around her shoulders as she shivered. In this line of work, losing her Dark Brotherhood family was more likely than not. They had already lost most of the family when the Penitus Oculatus routed their Falkreath Sanctuary. Left as head of the family when Astrid burned, Aerisif moved the survivors to the newly discovered Dawnstar Sanctuary to rebuild. Fire and steel took most of this family, too.

The Brotherhood had been thriving in the recent months. Nazir’s first batch of recruits turned out to have a natural talent for assassination, and were able to be trusted with small contracts rather quickly. With all the unrest in Skyrim, tensions were at an all time high. Tension made for good business for the Dark Brotherhood.

They were so overwhelmed with contracts that it fell to Aerisif to see this one out. The new recruits were both out on assignment, and Nazir had his hands full training two new ones. Babette had to meet a contact in Morthal, and left the same day Aerisif met the woman in Dawnstar. So, Aerisif must travel to Riften to eliminate some damned outlaw.

Riften.

This time, a pair of piercing emerald eyes accompanied the thought. Aerisif felt her breath leave her with the image. She pulled her cloak closer around her again, but the cold she felt now was inside her.

Loss seemed to follow Aerisif everywhere she went. She had lost so many loved ones over the course of her life, that joining the Dark Brotherhood seemed natural. Aerisif felt no more.

The Dark Brotherhood was not Aerisif’s first adopted family. She remembered arriving to that world weary city of the Rift so many years ago. She had been a young woman, eager to start anew, and, as crossing Skyrim does to a traveller, low on coin. Aerisif had no real plan once she left the Reach, just to get as far away from it as she could. She had heard the trading caravans talk of the beauty of the Rift, and it was a whole hold away from her. It seemed like a fine goal.

Aerisif arrived at the Riften gates midday. Cautious, she took refuge in a grove of trees within hearing distance but out of sight of the gates. It sounded like the guards were collecting a fee from those who tried to enter the city.

Aerisif pulled out her coin purse. It had maybe, just maybe, enough for a room at the tavern, but no meal. There was no extra gold for greedy guards. Aerisif pocketed the coins and considered her options. She was too small in stature to look intimidating enough to get the guards to lay off her. But she had learned to use her size to her advantage on the cold, stoney streets of Markarth.

An orphan lived a rough life. Aerisif took refuge in a damp corner of the Warrens. She quickly learned to use her youth and innocence to guilt coin from passersby as a beggar, and this kept Aerisif fed for a number of years. Not well fed, but she had not starved to death. But time is cruel, and soon Aerisif look too grown to illicit sympathy for a child, and she found other means of collecting her coin.

Pockets are so much easier to pick as a slight, nimble figure. Aerisif could slip in and out of crowds unnoticed. She found her fingers to be quick with locks, too, and that the shadows cloaked her easily.

Aerisif discovered that she made a fair thief.

She was not without her blunders, though Aerisif often found that a sweet smile and remorseful eyes could often tempt a guard to forget what they had seen. In this too, this new stage of life, Aerisif found she could keep herself fed. And just a little better than she had as a beggar.

Behind the grove of birch trees, Aerisif sat and waited. She doubted she could smile her way out of that “visitor’s tax”. Luck must have been smiling upon her, because a trading caravan soon rumbled up the road to the city. One, two, three wagons rolled over the crest of the hill. Aerisif slipped out of sight and waited for her chance. As the third wagon rolled away from her hiding spot, she nimbly lifted herself into the back of the wagon and looked for something to cover herself with. As her hand found soft folds, she smiled again.

This wagon was full of furs. Aerisif quickly buried herself under the layers of furs, and hoped the guards would be lazy about searching the contents.

A moment later, the wagon rocked to a halt. Through the layers of furs, Aerisif heard the exchange.

“Halt, traveller. Before I left you in, you must pay the visitor’s tax.”

The Nord driving the lead wagon scoffed. “Visitor’s tax? I think not, my friend.”

The guard stiffened his tone. “Listen here, either you pay the visitor’s tax, or you can take your business elsewhere.” Aerisif held her breath. If this caravan left, her plan was in trouble.

The Nord sighed, clearly annoyed. “Then you can tell Jarl Laila Law-Giver that she can pick up her shipment in Shor’s Stone. See how pleased she is with that!”

The guard sputtered. “Right this way,” he muttered, and Aerisif heard the gates grind open.

Aerisif released her breath. Luck really was smiling on her today.

Once the last wagon crept through the city gates and she watched the guards pull them shut behind her, Aerisif slipped out of the wagon, and with a flick of her wrist, pulled the topmost fur off the pile and into her sack. She wanted to eat tonight.

“That’s a smooth move, lass,” The honeyed brogue made Aerisif jump out of her skin.

She spun around to find the source. A man with red hair, dressed in fine blue robes chuckled from the shadows. Aerisif put a hand on the hilt of her dagger.

“Now now, there’s no need for that lass. You don’t need to fear me calling the guards. But it looks to me like you could use some refinement.” He was leaning casually on a post, arms crossed, gazing lazily from the shade.

Aerisif squinted at the man and calculated. Could she trust him not to out her to the guards? She relaxed her hand from the hilt of her dagger. While on the road she had had to slit some throats to protect herself, but killing this man in the middle of the hold capitol was folly. Sighing, she approached him hesitantly.

“Refinement, you say?” Aerisif glanced around, but it seemed that there was no one nearby, and the people drifting around the market were too far away to hear or even see anything.

“Aye. It seems that you and I share a trade. Not that I would put that little stint on the same level as what I do, mind you.” Aerisif felt her blood boil and looked at the man’s face. She found a confident smirk on his face. And green eyes, clear like flawless emeralds, shining with playfulness. Aerisif quickly shook her gaze from his.

“And what is it exactly that you do?” Aerisif tried to hold herself in a way that was a confident and casual as this mans, but felt that she was not being successful.

“You could say that wealth is my business. Maybe you’d like a taste?”

Aerisif felt her stomach grumble. Yes, a taste of mead and a hot meal. She eyed the man again. She found intrigue on the man’s face and, what else? Was there more to that glint in his eye than gold?

“What did you have in mind?”

“I’ve got a bit of an errand to perform, and need an extra pair of hands. And in my line of work, extra hands are well paid.”

She eyed him calculatingly. “What do I have to do?”

“Simple. I’m going to cause a distraction and you’re going to steal Madesi’s silver ring from a strong box under his stand. Once you have it, I want you to place it in Brand-Shei’s pocket without him noticing.”Aerisif followed his gaze to the Argonian and Dark Elf in turn.

“Now, you tell me when you’re ready, and we’ll get started.”

Aerisif took a breath. Was this all happening? She hadn’t really had a plan for her new life in Riften, but starting out by thieving seemed…well, it seemed natural, really. It was what Aerisif had done most of her life now.

She turned back to the man. “I’m ready.”

The next few minutes were fuzzy in Aerisif’s memory. She remembered finding the strongbox easy to pick, but she hardly remembered how she crossed the bright, sunny market and found herself wedged between Brand-Shei’s stand and the stone half wall that encircled the market. Suddenly the silver ring was slipping into the elf’s pocket, and Aerisif stood. She realized where she was standing, and hoisted herself on the half wall, trying to look like she had casually perched there while listening to this stranger talk about…Falmerblood Elixir?

As the crowd dispersed, Aerisif slid off the wall and over to the smirking man. She found him expecting her. Aerisif told herself that her racing heart was due to the rush of committing a crime, nothing more.

“Looks like I chose the right person for the job. And here you go, your payment, just as I promised.” He slid a heavy handful of gold to Aerisif, who pocketed it quickly. The man looked away, and for the first time, Aerisif saw a more serious tint to his gaze as he looked off at a corner of the town. “And the way things have been going around here, it’s a relief our plan went off without a hitch.”

Aerisif frowned. “What’s been going on?”

The man spat, “Bah. My organization’s been having a run of bad luck, but I suppose that’s just how it goes. But never mind that, you did the job and you did it well. Best of all, there’s more where that came form…if you think you can handle it.” The playful, cocky spark had returned to the man’s green eyes.

Aerisif drew herself up tall. “I can handle it.” she smirked.

The man eyed her carefully. “Brynjolf,” he extended his hand.

She shook it. “Aerisif.”

“Aerisif…” Brynjolf seemed to roll her name around in his mouth, like he was tasting a fine mead. He turned to her. “If you can make it to the Ragged Flagon in the Ratway, we can discuss your employment with my other associates.”

And so Aerisif’s career as a member of the Thieves’ Guild began. She trained hard, working feverishly to improve her skills. She found that many in the Guild were like her, no family to speak of, came to Riften, some directly to the Theives’ Guild, to start a new life. Many of her new brethren were willing to help Aerisif build her skillset. Others, like Vex and Delvin, were willing to give her chances to prove herself.

And Aerisif thrived. She had been a fair thief in Markarth, and she became a master thief in Riften. She trusted the guild members, and they trusted her. Trusted her to handle special tasks that required a skilled hand, tasks that brought gold to their coffers and merchants to the Flagon. And when the Guild was so cruelly deceived by Mercer Frey, they trusted her to take him down, along with Brynjolf and Karliah.

And it was with Brynjolf that Aerisif became a Nightingale, and swore herself to Nocturnal. It seemed that luck truly had been smiling on her the day she arrived in Riften, albeit in the form of the Daedric Prince of Shadows.

It was with Brynjolf that she took jobs, watching each other’s backs. It was with Brynjolf that Aerisif found she could confide and trust.

And it was with Brynjolf that she fell in love. Aerisif could still remember the first time he cupped her face in his hands and their lips met. How his eyes, his sparkling emerald eyes, looked when they were filled with warmth and affection.

Those bright, emerald eyes. They undid her. And it was Brynjolf’s deft fingers, nimble with more than just locks, that undid her laces, away from nosy guild members.

They kept their affections a secret from the others. In a guild where the gold, the beds, the meals, the victories, and the losses were all shared, it was delicious to keep one thing for themselves.

Aerisif was elected to Guild Master once Mercer had been extinguished. She refused it over and over, declaring Brynjolf was better suited to it. But he and Delvin and Vex would hear none of it. It had to be her. And so Aerisif took the mantle of leading the Guild. Her new family.

One crisp autumn, she and Brynjolf were sent to pull a job in Falkreath. They were hiding in the Jerall Mountains on their escape, to avoid any of the Jarl’s men searching for the thieves that dared strike their precious town. Drunk on victory and some Black-Briar mead, they stumbled into an Imperial trap.

Surrounded by so many, they had no chance of escape. She and Brynjolf exchanged slow looks, their hands in the air and their weapons on the ground. Why were there so many Imperials here? They had not been there on their voyage west. The Imperials clamped them both in irons and pulled them separate ways. But to Aerisif’s confusion, they were not interested in their stolen goods. They just seemed to want to keep them silent, and apart.

Two days of silence later, Aerisif learned why.

Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak was dragged into camp, heralded by shouts and jeers from the Imperial soldiers.

They didn’t want us to ruin their trap, Aerisif realized. But then, why were they still being held? They had to get out. If the Imperials had caught Ulfric, the situation was dire.

Aerisif made a desperate attempt at escape that night. She had freed herself from her fetters, incapacitated the guard keeping watching over her cluster of prisoners, and made it all the way to where they were keeping Brynjolf before the guards caught and beat her. She could have bore the blunt of their blows, but when Brynjolf raised his head to the commotion and saw what they were doing to her, his pained gaze broke her.

Brynjolf cried out, begging, pleading, for them to stop, but all that did was earn him punishment of his own. Aerisif had never heard Brynjolf sound this way, like a wounded animal. It made her gut twist.

Aerisif had opened her mouth to shout to them to stop but never had the chance. Her breath released in a rushed sigh as a warhammer knocked her out.

When Aerisif next awoke, she was in the back of a wagon rumbling down some forested road.

“Hey, you’re awake,” one prisoner across from her spoke.

Aerisif straightened as she became aware. She glanced at her fellow prisoners. Two across from her, similarly bound as she, and one to her right. Her eyes widened when she recognized the Jarl.

If I’m in the same wagon as Ulfric Stormcloak… She left that thought unfinished, shuddering at the implications.

“Where are we? Or, where are they taking us? Where is Brynjolf?”

“I think we must be near Helgen, but I know nothing of this Brynjolf you speak of.”

“Red hair? Green eyes, wide frame? From the Rift?”

The other prisoner looked up. “Aye, I saw the man.”

Aerisif whipped in his direction. “Where is he? Where did they take him? Is he in another wagon?” She began to search around to see where there wagon was within the caravan, but found that they appeared to be the only cart of prisoners. She felt her stomach knot and her heart race.

No, no, no.

“I’m sorry…he…he did not make it. The Imperials killed him before we even left camp.”

Aerisif felt all the breath leave her body. The world was spinning. She thought she would vomit for a moment, before a solid rock replaced the knot in her gut. “Are… are you sure?” She asked in a small voice. Her eyes welled with tears, and she felt like a child again.

“I saw the Imperials do the deed with mine own eyes. I’m sorry, kinsman.”

Aerisif did not speak again for the rest of the journey. She faintly heard the other prisoners converse, something about a horse thief, Rorikstead, and the war, but she heard them as if she was far away, catching their conversation echoing through the mountains. Guilt rushed into the void inside her, venomous and sharp. It had been her idea to travel through the mountains. It had been her that opened the mead to drink while they walked. It had been Aerisif that chose to bring Brynjolf with her on the job, and her that got him killed when she tried to break them out.

If it hadn’t been for Aerisif, Brynjolf would still be alive.

Imperial shouts woke Aerisif from her blank state. They were ordered to move. She did as she was told. There was no more fight in her blood. She felt as if her life force had been drained since she had heard of her love’s death, forced by her hand. Aerisif was ready to die too.

She watched the horse thief make a break for it, and watched his body crumple from the rain of arrows that pierced him a heartbeat later. Aerisif considered following him; she was doomed for the headsman anyway, what did it matter how she died? But she found she had not the energy to run. Best to just let death come to her.

The sweet release of death was in the air, and Aerisif could just nearly taste it.

Emotionlessly, she watched the first head roll. The wind roared and the leaves on the trees shuffled. It was her turn.

Aerisif lay down on the block obediently. She closed her eyes. There was no need to watch the axe swing to her.

The earth shook and Aerisif’s eyes were jolted open. She thought she must have died already, for there was no other explanation to what she saw.

A dragon, black as midnight, was perched atop the tower above, staring down at her.

In that moment when his molten eyes met hers, Aerisif felt something she had never felt before. She felt her blood surge and rage. She felt a beast rear up and roar in her chest that had never before awoken.

Unbidden, Aerisif’s legs pushed her up from the ground and led her away from the inferno that blazed where she had lay a moment before. A tempest of fire and steel erupted around her.

She did not remember how she did it, but Aerisif survived Helgen. She recalled the other prisoner she travelled with calling her, leading her away, and blindly, she followed.

For all the hopelessness that had been festering inside her, new life sprung like green shoots in the spring. She wanted to live. Why? How dare she? When Brynjolf died she had been ready to join him. She longed to be beside him again. But instead of the resignation that dwelled complacently inside her before, the new beast demanded she continue on.

Skyrim needs you. Tamriel needs you.

In Whiterun, that beast was given a name: Dragonborn. It had a voice too, that shouted out all the rage and pain inside Aerisif: Her thu’um.

And so, Aerisif continued. She did as the Greybeards asked, she followed Delphine’s guidance. She travelled Skyrim to Sovngard in her quest to save it all. To give all others a chance at the peace she would not know. She slew dragons and draugr and dragon priests and anything else that stood in her way. Once a woman of daggers, she found the weight of a greatsword to be a natural extension of her being.

Shadowmere halted to graze on the green, tough grass, and the sudden stop jolted Aerisif back to the present.

Grass? She looked around. She had reached the plains of Whiterun Hold.

She sighed. Helgen was a lifetime ago. Sovngard was a lifetime ago. When she had returned from the after life, she felt the dragon inside her settle and tuck its head under its wings.

Rest now, it had said. You have done all that I asked.

It was not rest that Aerisif sought. Instead, she unleashed her pain through the Night Mother’s bidding. It did not satisfy her, but it kept her busy. And busy kept her alive.

Aerisif breathed in the warmer, kinder air of the plains. She pulled Shadowmere from her grazing and urged her onward.

To Riften.

[foxofthedesert]

RQ OUaT FF | OGA: Ch. 20

Chapter 20 – A Journey Interrupted

Now halfway between the idyllic lake and the outskirts of the sprawling forest they have been venturing through, Regina can still feel waves pure frustration wafting from Snow.  For just a moment, Regina had let down her guard, allowing Snow nearly bypass her defenses than she had in a very long time – not since that last futile attempt to persuade Regina to drop their feud rather than be executed.  To sneak so close to victory only to have it snatched away at the last second had to be a kick in the teeth from a bucking stallion.  Imagining the metaphor as reality makes Regina smile.

Maybe she won’t be so quick to take a mile when given an inch, she thinks, then immediately dismisses the possibility as highly unlikely.  Snow has yet to learn when to give up on anyone or anything, especially Regina, therefore asking her to now seems as rational as asking ice to not be cold.  Frankly there seems more chance of hot ice than Snow giving up on mending their broken relationship.  

“We’re almost there,” she yells over the clap of Lucas’s hooves upon the golden thoroughfare. When Snow’s grumpy grunt of acknowledgement is not followed up by a snarky comment, Regina settles back in for the rest of the ride, content to revel in the petty amusement her companion’s discontent inspires.

No more is said for quite some time.  Minutes pass by as if seconds and then an hour as if half that.  Lucas makes good time upon the Yellow Brick Road, having really hit his stride upon the increasingly smooth surface, which is owed both to the forest starting to thin and their encroaching proximity to the capitol.  For that reason, they emerge into a wide, rolling plain just in time to catch the nethermost rim of the sun dip down below the inverted earthen bowl that conceals it each and every night.  Regina reins in Lucas to momentarily enjoy the breathtaking panoramic view.

In the near distance, the Emerald City is nestled within a crescent valley encircled on three sides by a towering mountain range that eclipses anything to be found in the Enchanted Forest.  Tall jade spires jut into the air like tapering fingers raised in greeting to those who have just broken free from the oppressive darkness of the forest.  An enormous wall dotted with siege towers encircles the entire city, so vast and high as to defy the imagination.  Meanwhile the Yellow Brick Road, which snakes a sinuous path through a lowland dotted with hedgerows and modest copses of oaks and cottonwood trees, slithers ever onward until terminating at the great gate towers buttressing the central portion of the wall.  As long as Regina lives, she will never forget this moment and how tiny and insignificant she felt in the face of such magnificent splendor.

“Wow,” Snow says, equally awestruck. “That’s a really big city.”

Regina chuckles.  “You have a gift for understatement, dear.  But yes, it is quite impressive is it not?”  

She feels rather than sees Snow’s answering nod as her eyes settle upon the great domed palace situated at the center of the Citadel’s massive commons.  Her heart speeds up and her muscles flex in anticipation.  Their target is at last in sight.  Somewhere within those walls they will either find a map detailing the exact location of the Grove they are seeking or else ferret out someone who has been there.  And then they can get on with the business of saving Red.  

A jubilant smile spreads across her lips as she makes to spur Lucas on toward their next objective on this all-important quest.  But just before she kicks, Snow gasps and tightens her arms reflexively tighten around Regina’s waist.  She cranes her neck to the limit to see what’s wrong only to find Snow staring out to the right. Regina follows her companion’s eyes and echoes the surprise she heard moments ago upon glimpsing a line of horsemen approaching their flank.  Soldiers in chainmail and tabards of green and gold with longswords at their hips.  Regina curses herself.  In her exuberance at being so near to the Emerald City, she had failed to spy out their surroundings upon exiting the forest.

For a split second she considers spurring Lucas onward and racing the mounted squad to the gates of the city but dismisses the idea as impractical.  Not only is Lucas unaccustomed to such lengthy gallops and is unsuited to the task of outpacing military-bred horses, fleeing now will attract the sort of unwanted attention they have been trying to avoid.  Her actions back in the village with Darion withstanding, stealth is by far the preferable approach to entering the city without prompting any suspicion.  If they do not face these men here and now, either to explain their presence in a satisfactory manner or dispose of them by other means, they will be chased all the way to the gates.  In which case their journey would come to an abrupt end.  Regina is powerful.  Powerful enough to take this squad without breaking a sweat.  But the garrison housed within the Citadel is another matter entirely.  In other words, there is no choice but to stay and handle the situation whatever it takes.

“I’m going to try and talk us out of this,” Regina tells Snow as they watch the handful of men dismount thirty yards or so away then begin to approach on foot.  “But if I can’t, be ready to fight.”

“Alright,” Snow replies, tension radiating from her frame as she slips her arms from around Regina’s waist.  “Just try to be nice this time.”

Regina plasters on a politicking grin.  “I was nice last time.”  She then fixates on the soldiers before Snow can say another word and guides Lucas to turn toward them.  “Greetings, gentlemen.  My name is Regina and my companion here is called Snow.  We’re here to visit family in the Emerald City.”  The swiftly conjured lie flows as naturally as honey from the comb.

The squad leader deliberately locks on to their weapons as he and his men form a perpendicular line to them.  “Visiting family in the city armed to the teeth?  I find that interesting.”  

A man of middle age, the captain is of average height and is well built with long, flowing raven locks and a neatly trimmed beard.  Fox-like eyes peak out from beneath thick brows, clever eyes that are adept at spotting untruths if Regina is any reliable judge.  His expression conveys a cynicism that is unlikely to be swayed with words alone. As subtly as she can, she starts gathering magic at her fingertips.

“You shouldn’t,” she answers.  “Our weapons are merely for our protection.  Surely you understand there are many dangers out there for two women far from home and traveling alone.”

The captain rests his hand on the pommel of his sword.  “Of course. Then again, my men and I patrol this area daily and I’ve had this post going on a decade.  Never seen you two before today.  That makes me inclined to be suspicious.  Surely you understand.”

Regina grits her teeth at having her words so casually tossed back into her face.  Mastering her emotions, she nods a concession.  “Certainly. You have a job to do and you are doing it well from where I sit.  As for your other concern, you wouldn’t have ever seen us before.  Our relatives only recently moved to the City.  This is our first visit.”

The captain’s dark brows arch with unconcealed interest.  “Oh?  Where are you from then?”

“A little backwash village to the south far away from here.  You wouldn’t have heard of it.”

“Ah! What a pleasant coincidence.”  The captain’s expression melts into a smarmy, reptilian smile. “I also hail from the south and know every hamlet between here and Quadling Country.  What’s the name of your village?  I might even have visited during my youthful adventures.”

With every word, Regina feels the noose tightening around their necks. She’s talked herself into a corner now and knows she probably won’t be able to wiggle out without giving them away.  Though their intentions being sussed out is probably a mere formality now.  The captain clearly has already taken their measure with great accuracy. All that remains is for someone to make the first move.  

“Unlikely,” she says, using her peripheral vision to watch for any hint of movement from the other men lined up before them.  “As I said, it’s a nowhere village several miles west of the Green Lake.  Not many come through our parts.  Which is the reason our relatives relocated.”

“Hmmm. As of two years ago, there were no villages west of Green Lake.  I think you’re lying.  That said, I’m a reasonable man.  Tell me why you’re really here and I might just be persuaded to let you go.”

Regina is also good at spotting lies, and that is as surely one as those she has been spouting.  She also does not need an interpreter to translate the greedy way she and Snow are now being eyed by the captain or the rest of his men.  Their mouths are practically watering like a pack of starving hyenas who fortuitously stumbled across two fresh doe carcasses.  There will be no convincing these men to let them go without purchasing their silence with gold or their bodies, and neither of those options are up for discussion.  Only one avenue of escape remains.

“Somehow I doubt that,” she says, a spell already formulating in the back of her mind.  “However, in the interest of expedience, I’ll tell you why we’re here.”

“Regina...”

Regina cuts off Snow’s objection by reaching back and grasping her arm tightly.  “Quiet now.  Remember what I said?  We’ll be going with option number two.”  Although Snow returns the grip on her arm with as much force as she can muster, she obeys Regina by surreptitiously sliding her left hand down to grasp at her sword only to stiffen upon remembrance that she’d loaned it to Jefferson.  Not rubbing Snow’s nose in the stink of that foolish decision will be very difficult for Regina should they survive this encounter.

To the Captain, she then says, “Forgive the interruption.  Where was I?  Oh, yes.  I was about to tell you that I’m here to kill that green-skinned bitch you call a ruler.”  

Widening eyes and the flinching muscles of a forearm grasping a sword handle provide Regina all the impetus she needs.  Without warning, she summons a fireball and lobs it at the Captain, only for him to swerve out of the way at the last second.  His men scatter like rats shouting at the top of their lungs, “Sorceress!  Sorceress!  She’s gonna roast us all!”  Only his iron will in the form of sternly barked commands corrals them before they scamper away, leaving him to Regina’s mercy.

While this is happening, Snow deftly rolls off of Lucas, slides her bow off her shoulders, nocks her first arrow, and takes up position at Lucas’s wide rear flank.  Regina joins her companion on the ground, albeit wedged between Lucas and Snow and their foes.  As the soldiers begin to charge over the thirty yards separating them, she unsheathes her sword in preparation for combat. When the squad is halfway across, a breath of air gusts past her cheek, preceded by the thwap of a bowstring against leather bracers.  An arrow lodges into the eye of the man to the Captain’s left.  Five heartbeats later, another thwap and the man at the Captain’s right falls with an arrow shaft through his throat.

Two down, four to go.  Save some for me, Snow, Regina thinks, sneer in place as she tightens her grip on her sword.

One more assailant dies before Regina enters the fray, the leftmost man who takes Snow’s final arrow to the temple.  He drops like a felled log to the enraged cries of his comrades.  And then surge at Regina, who grins as the rush of combat descends upon her.  Springing forward, she meets them a few feet in front of Lucas.  The men now flanking the Captain advance on her first, hoping to corral her and then push her back until Lucas’s massive bulk is hemming her in so that they can finish her off much more easily.

Fat chance of that.  I’d rather die on the attack than be transformed into a human sieve.  

Needing to take the initiative, she remembers the advice of her old fencing instructor.  A veteran of many wars, he used to regale Regina with tales of his battlefield exploits as he put her through the paces with a grueling intensity she would later learn to appreciate.  Normally, as per her parents’ instruction, he only focused on the mano a mano engagements typical of fencing competitions, but there were exceptions.  In addition to being hyper-competitive Regina is a curious soul by nature, so she kept imploring him for massed combat training until he eventually caved to her stubbornness.  His first lesson included roping in a couple of stable hands that were decent swordsmen to teach her several methods to overcome disadvantageous odds.  The one she came to prefer was striking out immediately and aggressively at the most formidable opponent in the hopes that eliminating them would demoralize the others, thus creating holes in their defenses via rage or fear or rendering them ineffective altogether when her attentions turned to them after the main target was down.

Utilizing that tactic is a giant risk, but it’s one I have to take.  Regina grits her teeth as dreadful resolve spurs her forward.  In a matter of seconds, she will either have dispatched her enemies or she will be dead.  And that’s just the sort of high pressure, zero margin for error environment she was bred and painstakingly prepared to thrive in.

Ducking under a swiping blade as she closes in, she rolls forward head over hell, pops back up on her feet agile as a cat, and cuts through the Captain’s lagging defenses before his men can even respond to her unexpected offensive.  Two parries of sideswipes, one block of an overhead swing, and a sidestep of a slash at his gut are all the veteran soldier can muster before Regina neatly skirts his clumsy, rushed reply and slides her blade into the left side of his chest.  After a choked groan, he falls backward to the ground with a great thud.  

Everything stops for several heartbeats.  Regina surveying her kill with prideful satisfaction and the remaining soldiers looking on in shocked dismay.  Then a voice in the back of her head starts screaming that the fight isn’t over yet.  Turning back toward the two men left standing, she levels them with an inviting smile.

“Who’s next?” she says, then assumes her favorite pose, knees slightly bent, sword arm at a ninety degree angle over her head with her other arm extended out.

And then something unexpected happens.  The two men glance at one another, a frenzied conversation taking place in the midst of the tense silence.  One of them cuts eyes back toward the forest, the other nods, and a split second later they are both sprinting away as fast as their feet can carry them.

Ordinarily, Regina might have let them go.  But this mission being what it is means she cannot afford to leave survivors of this encounter to potentially spread news of what has happened back to the city.  Back to Zelena.  That can’t happen.  Red’s life depends upon it.

The men are barely away when Regina casts a spell that binds the legs of one, sending him careening forward into the dirt.  The other she spears through the spine with her sword in one clean toss, a skill she has always been rather proud of.  He falls in a heap of jellied limbs then goes still.  With the final remaining opponent disabled, Regina takes her sweet time fetching her sword out of the back of the man she skewered and then saunters over to the remaining victim waiting to be dispatched.

“She’ll stop you,” the man says, eyes wild with terror and rage.

Regina smiles confidently, all teeth and no quarter.  “I don’t think she will.  You’ve seen what I can do.  I’m her equal in magic and no one here is my equal with the blade.”

“You haven’t met Jilly yet.”

Regina’s brow quirks up.  “Who?”

“The most dangerous and beautiful woman in the realm.  She’s killed more men than anybody but the Witch since she came here.  Best with the sword, too,” the man boasts, clearly believing his assertion.  

She has never heard of such a person, which is not that surprising seeing as she knows next to nothing about Oz except what little her prior research and her experience to date traveling through this strange world has yielded.  Not that it would matter if she had anyway. Whoever should oppose the mission to save Red will meet the same fate as these men.  Be it Zelena or this Jilly character.

“Not anymore, she’s not,” she says.  “And I’d wager her kill count pales in comparison with mine.”  That old, familiar streak of malice creeps outside of its container then, and as Snow lingers hesitantly behind her shoulder, she strides up into the soldier’s personal space.  “When the Witch came to my realm, cursed my wife and killed our friend, she awakened a monster that has been sleeping for a very long time. Well, she’s awake now.  Awake and thirsty for blood.  So I do hope I come across this Jilly person while I’m here.  I’d love to add another trophy to my already impressive collection, which is about to grow by one.”

Just as the man opens up his mouth to reply, Regina flicks her wrist, a grotesque sneer twisting her lips, and spears her razor sharp blade upward through the soft tissue of the man’s underjaw.  Eyes blowing wide, he gurgles helplessly as blood gushes from the wound.  Upon encountering the expected resistance of bone at the top of his mouth, she pushes harder until she feels his palate give way to inevitability.  And then the blade slides home into gelatinous gray matter.  She watches with grim satisfaction as her victim’s eyes glossify, he twitches a time or two, and then goes limp as a ragdoll.  To prevent herself from being knocked over along with him, she swiftly slides her sword free then gives him a helpful shove backward.  The ground thuds with the impact of the sixth man to be relieved of the pains of life in as many minutes.

“Regina...why?  He was helpless!”

The disgust evident in that question is enough to provoke Regina’s fury.  She swirls on Snow, blade dripping blood, eyes flashing with an animus that refuses to abate after the excitement of the kill.  

“Don’t you dare question my methods.  If I had let him go, he would’ve run to the first village, saddled a horse, and rode straight for the City.  And then what would have become of our quest?  I could not permit that to happen.  I did what I had to do, just as I warned you I would before we departed.”  When Snow does not respond, appearing far too terrified, she glances around at the bodies strewn about the field and realizes they cannot afford to leave them there.  Discovery would surely sound an alarm that might end their expedition prematurely.  “Now, help me dispose of these bodies.”

Snow gapes at her a heartbeat before squawking out her reply.  “How are we supposed to do that?  Last I checked we don’t have any shovels.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Regina glimpses the line of trees and shrubs announcing the forests end.  A fantastic plan then pops into her mind.  “Who said anything about burying them?  There’s a perfectly good forest nearby teeming with all sorts of creatures, many of whom I’m sure are quite famished.  We’ll simply load the bodies up on Lucas here and deliver them a hearty meal.”

For a second it looks like Snow might object to the callous but efficient plan, but then she catches Regina’s glare and wisely thinks better of it. “Fine.  Let’s get this over with and be on our way.”

“I couldn’t agree more, dear,” Regina says, smiling, and then they go about the unwholesome business at hand.  

The process of dragging six bodies over to Lucas, hoisting them with great difficulty up and over his back two per load so that they are draped over him like fleshy blankets, and then guiding Lucas back into the fringes of the forest where they quickly unload them takes far longer than Regina would have preferred.  But Snow does not complain any more and they get the job done, so she is rather happy with the results.  By the time they are done, the sun has nearly disappeared, leaving them little time with which to complete the journey to the Emerald City.  While would be more prudent to camp out in the forest for the night and wait until dawn to resume the journey, Regina is uninterested in prudence.  

They set out back down the Yellow Brick road immediately after making their last deposit within the forest.  As Regina spurs Lucas into a steady trot, she offers an earnest prayer to any gods that may be listening that the rest of the ride prove uneventful.  And for once, miracle of all miracles, they actually listen.

It takes another two hours and change for them to reach the outskirts of the Emerald City on horseback.  The ride is accomplished in total silence, for which Regina is eternally grateful.  Any more of Snow’s uppity lip and she’d have seriously contemplated unseating her with Lucas at full gallop.  

Once right outside the city gates, they find an available hitching post where Regina carefully ties Lucas.  Before leaving him, she casts wards over him just in case.  She can’t have any harm coming to the beautiful creature who is fast burrowing into her heart.

With their transportation secure, they spend another half-hour attempting to infiltrate the loosely guarded entrances.  Night has fallen in earnest, so only a skeleton crew is left to man the posts at each lofty gate within the city’s impressive siege walls.  After much frustration, they are finally able to slip through by feigning they belong to a party of bedraggled merchants.  Regina aids the disguise by magically altering their clothes to appear more dirty and crude. The road-weary group are filtering into the city to sell their wares when the markets open on the morrow at dawn, which is drawing much nearer than Regina would have preferred.  Already the faintest hints of red and orange can be seen over the horizon.  They must hurry if they’re to use the cover of night to slip inside the castle.  

Once through the gates, they immediately make their way toward the palace from whence Zelena has long ruled Oz unopposed.  As they arrive at a row of bronze statues nearby a large courtyard surrounding the Palace, Regina spots their hired hand awaiting them.  

Darion is nonchalantly leaning back against a depiction of a stout, bearded human man clutching the hand of a tall, lithe faerie woman with pointed ears that curve slightly backward rather than straight up as those of the elves.  Each holds a bejeweled eagle scepter in the outer hand, arms extended toward the sky.  The engraving on the pedestal is barely visible with the low light of the many wrought-iron lamps lining the street.  It reads:

KING PASTORIA AND QUEEN LURLINE

VICTORS OVER THE DARK ELVES AND VANQUISHERS OF THE BEAST FOREVER

MAY THEIR REIGN BE PEACEFUL AND PROSPEROUS  

“I've done as you asked,” Darion says in lieu of greeting, arresting Regina’s attention from the marvelous statue.  “The Witch departed hours ago.  Now, release me from my oath and pay me what I’m owed.”

Regina appraises him slowly, pleased that he squirms uncomfortably under her gaze.  “Not until you've done one last thing,” she says, no quarter to be found in her tone.  “Is there a way in to the palace we can use to avoid detection?  Zelena may be gone but I'm sure she has alerted her servants and guards to be on the lookout for us.”

Darion narrows his eyes, looking like he wishes to refuse.  His resolve wavers under Regina's relentless glare.  “There is a way,” he sighs.  “A servant’s entrance to the east is attached to the scullery.  Maids and guards are almost constantly milling in and out of it at every hour.  This late, it will not be heavily guarded. Most of the garrison is either asleep or on patrol about the city or outside the walls.”

She hums her assent, then taps her chin a few times.  “What about once we're inside?”

“Go through the scullery.  It will take you into the main hallway,” Darion replies succinctly.  “Follow that north through a series of corridors that will eventually lead to the Royal chambers.  That is where the Witch has taken up residence.  If there are any maps of the Grove, you will find them in her chambers.  You will know them when you see them.”

Satisfied she has the information that she needs, Regina gives him a condescending smile.  “Thank you, Darion,” she drawls.  “Your help has been most appreciated.”  She produces a sizable pouch of gold from her belt, his promised payment, and then tosses it to him before waving off into the distance.  “Scurry away now like the rat you are.  I release you.”

Darion makes a noise of offense as he catches the pouch, but does not comment as he pushes off from the wall.  He sulks off into the city beyond, his reward jingling with every step.

“Do you think that was wise?  Letting him go?” Snow asks, seeming apprehensive.

Regina looks at her with unveiled surprise.  “Would you have rather I killed him?”

Snow's eyes grow wide.  “No!  Absolutely not!  I just...” she sighs and scrubs her forehead.  “I worry about whether he will find the nearest patrol and report us.”

“He won't,” Regina assures her with a secretive smile.  “When I waved in his direction just now, I cast a spell on him that will block his memory for at least three hours.  It should be taking effect right about now and will buy us enough time to do what we must and get out.”

While Snow looks a tiny bit sick at Regina possessing that kind of power and the ability to use it without being detected, mainly she appears relieved.  “Well, that's a relief,” she breathes, and Regina smiles internally at her accurate diagnosis of Snow's moods.  “Let's get on with it, then.  I don't want to be around when that spell wears off.”

“A splendid idea,” Regina chirps, and then moves away from the shop and tentatively toward the large, open courtyard which is not even obstructed by so much a single tree. 

Because of how risky it is to cross, even at night, she decides to circle around the palace along the edges of the developed section of the city which would normally be alive with bustling activity in the daylight.  What few nocturnal citizens prowl the streets are either ambivalent to the presence of two strange women or ignore them altogether.  That their presence here is unremarkable indicates that Zelena has not instituted any sort of curfew, which works in their favor. To further blend in and deflect suspicion, she takes Snow's hand, much to the surprise of her diminutive companion.

As she leads them around the circular outskirts of the commercial portion of the city, Regina explains herself to Snow out of the corner of her mouth.  “Act like we're relatives traveling together.  It didn’t fool the soldiers but it should work well enough here.”

“Got it,” Snow nods curtly.  When they pass by a middle aged woman flanked by two hawk-nosed men who peer at them curiously, Snow elbows Regina and points to one of the towers rising up above the Palace. “Look, cousin,” she says with exaggerated excitement, “the tips of the towers are like glowing emerald onions!”

“So they are, cousin,” Regina replies, smiling down at Snow, and it turns more appreciative when she notices the woman give them a welcoming smile of her own before passing by.  She winks at Snow, in good spirits.  “Well done.”

“Thank you,” Snow beams, but her joy is short lived when she turns and spots something in the near distance.  She indicates toward it discreetly.  “Look.  It's the scullery.”

Regina follows the direction of Snow's finger and sees that they have rounded the palace to a portion containing a door that is currently closed.  She recognizes it as the scullery door by the maid that comes out a second later carrying a large basket, presumably to pick up supplies ahead of another long day of grueling labor or perhaps a load of laundry from some important citizen who is afforded the privilege of the highly skilled Palace staff caring for their linens. The woman, in her overconfidence born of routine, leaves the door propped open.  It is an opening Regina cannot allow to pass by without seizing it.

She takes a quick look around, and when she sees that there are even fewer people out and about in this section of the city, she tugs Snow by the hand and all but drags her across the courtyard.  By the time they step through a servant entrance left open by the careless maid, the sun has inched over the horizon so that it casts a faint orange onto the pavement and buildings of the still brilliantly shining city.

Once inside, she whispers at Snow, “Stay close.  I can conceal us with my magic, but it works best at proximity.”  Snow nods and shuffles up to Regina's side.  Summoning her power, Regina casts a spell that slightly alters their visages and transforms their clothing into the garb similar to that worn by the scullery maid she’d seen exit just moments before. 

“Come,” she then instructs, pushing away from the wall, “we've no time to dawdle.”

To further sell their disguise, she pilfers an empty linen basket, and then maneuvers through the scullery into an abandoned hallway.  The lack of servants milling about is worrying, but Regina does not allow that unfortunate detail to deter her.  Waving Snow on behind her, she steps out and makes her way down the northernmost hallway. Thankfully her lucks holds true, and after rounding several corners, they arrive at what appears to be the royal wing of the palace.  It is a far cry from what she had expected given the grandeur of the Emerald City.

The hallway belonging to the Royal Family of Oz is permeated in shadow, quite unlike other corridors which are at lit by candlelight and seem regularly polished and cared for in spite of the current occupant, and appears strangely dead considering it is made of brick and mortar and wood and metals which do not live.  Nevertheless it is dreary and sorrowful as if having been sucked dry of what scant expressiveness belongs to such inanimate materials.  There was once a time Regina's own wing of the Dark Palace had resembled this mournful hallway.  As with everything else in her life and kingdom, Red has breathed new life into the castle, in the process banishing many of the shadows Regina cast over it during her precipitous descent into madness. This hallway reminds her of that dark era that she has unkindly dubbed The Dark Days.  It is disturbing in a way that makes her aware of just how hopeless she'd once been and how she might again be should the mission fail.

With reinvigorated determination, she squares her shoulders and begins her search with Snow following close behind.  It takes inspecting nearly every room along the corridor before Regina sticks her head inside the last chambers and spots the ostentatious green and black décor. She knows in an instant she's in the right place.

After a preparatory breath, she slips in through the door and then shuts it behind her once Snow joins her inside.  Turning toward a nearby sconce, Regina snaps her fingers, and it comes to life, bathing the room in a soft orange glow.  Her purpose for infiltrating Zelena's chambers is to find something, anything that could provide a clue as to her sister's plans or perhaps give an insight any potential weaknesses.  But before she can even begin the search, she sees something glinting in the corner of the room, something large and green and shrouded in shadows. 

“Zelena,” she growls, her magic flaring to life on instinct.  She reflexively raises her hand to summon a fireball and wastes no time in launching it in the direction of her sister.  

[thanidiel]

Late Night

Prompt 3: Take this gif and run with it.  Whatever it makes you feel, whatever setting emerges in your mind, spill that all onto a page.  Then, put your character into that setting and explain the thoughts and emotions, be they negative, positive, or neutral, that this scene evokes from them.

Another late night.

She cannot deny that she has not always been a restless soul, but this is… a break of the routine; these late nights.

Before, years had been marked in which the retired soldier had learned to settle and no longer departed from her other’s side, once favouring chilled stars over Cayvia’s comfort. Now, she has broken the record to spend nights upon nights reading as much reports as she can get her hands on, until her vision swarms like disturbed water and her temples throb.

Naturally, the two heard little of the going-ons of the world and the Kingdom surrounding them - content as they were to isolate in the wild boreal forests of Quel’Thalas Southernmost and worry not of anything but of household and market in the nearby village.

But something has changed.

Wildlife from Eastweald has poured through pass and mountain into the Elven Kingdom. Smoke of military campfire on the stretching Lordaeron horizon greeted Thanidiel’s eyes when this oddity had been noted and she had rode for the rocky passes separating her home from the Humanlands. Most troubling of all: sparse travelers (no, refugees) of kinsmen, dwarves, humans, have passed through Emberbreeze with haunting tales.

They spoke to her and the others of green-skinned beasts towering over even the tallest forest troll, with eyes ablaze in crimson. Beasts who spoke unfamiliar tongue to even the most ancient scholars. Beasts who did not even bleed right and splattered black onto blades and grasses. Beasts who razed Stormwind, Capitol of the Kingdom of Azeroth, and sailed across the seas on the tails of the survivors and now ran rampant and wild over the Northern Kingdoms.

All of this troubled, still troubles, Thanidiel. The encroaching threat weaves worry into her brow whenever her eyes regard her other. Yet the old song hums in her bones now, as well. The coiling ropes of muscle on her frame buzz with the history of uniform march. The callouses that spread across the insides of her palms itch to grasp onto a weapon’s shaft, a shield’s grip.

She leaves the property more and more frequently whenever word of another refugee reaches her ears from nearby Emberbreeze, interrogative of all news from those south of Quel’Thalas and creating rigorous record of what passes from their lips.

Unspoken law, too, is transgressed in her anxiousness. A decade has passed its lifespan since she had last spoken to Renalays. Now, here she was, breaking the routine. Again. Letter had been sent to the Inquisitor and in the next week she had received an entire crate of combat reports from Azeroth to Lordaeron (her other had bristled for days at the once-soldier for this, until a set-aside conversation settled worries).

Obsession has seeped into her since then. Not a night passes in which the woman has not spent droning hours hunched over table aside lantern-light. Renalays had provided all of the content asked for - now it is up to Thanidiel to not only decipher every bit of it, but interpret it into a moving battlemap.

Common, accented as it is, comes easily enough to her tongue. Her eyes are a different matter.

And all of these papers are in bloody Common.

To increase the frustration coursing through her blood, the Azerothian and Lordaeron reports read differently. Distance and time had forged distinct dialects between the isolated Lion and the rest of the Human Kingdoms; a matter made even more complicated with the unique qualities added by Mountain Dwarf influence to the Southern, and Wild Dwarf to the Northern.

As it stands, Thanidiel has had to turn herself into a scholar of necessity. That crate of report upon reports rests its side against her calf as the current point of chronology is laid out before her. To her left, aside the lantern she had lit—damned thing will need a replenishment of oil soon— stacks dictionary of Common throughout the Human Kingdoms and Dwarvish of both familiar clans. The kitchen stand-table, normally used to roll dumplings and forcemeat, has been commandeered close to the desk, utilised now to stretch out her crude, though thoroughly detailed, map.

From the foothills the beasts had pushed into the Hinterlands, and it appears as though the current whereabouts is a steady, northeastern, march from there (built from the scattered tales of refugees; the Grand Alliance’s military apparently well-behind when hearsay and document are lined up). Furthermore, many accounts detailed the presence of forest trolls appearing alongside the blackbloods in recent time. Amani.

Her teeth rake at the side of her tongue and cheek until there is swelling pricks of pain. Naturally, the State had ought to know of this ‘Horde’s advance. She does not care to bring any of this to the Capitol - there is a thousand Renalayses in Silvermoon and, undoubtably, they’ve all been at harder work than she has.

But, having reached the end of her work; she would bring evidence to Emberbreeze. Days’ time has been lost in her personal going-over of these documents, so perhaps not all of the frontier region could be alerted to what comes. But Emberbreeze? The townships and outposts in a northern route to the Capitol or Dawnspire? Yes, that much could be salvaged. In the morn—

The feeling of warmth snaking along her collarbones and pressing into her back is neither unfamiliar nor unwanted but, all the same, that old song choruses in her blood. Where the retired soldier was hunched over, she stiffens and pushes backwards into straightened posture. An answering breath washes over the crook of her neck; soothing the stirred instinct into dormancy.

“Are you going to sleep at all, tonight?”

Thanidiel does not bother with any haste in responding to her other. No. Not that she isn’t bothering. This is purposeful. A prolongment of this specific moment of her lengthy life - to suspend it within the air surrounding them (when one goes thirsty, one is reluctant to tear away the waterskin until it is drained).

She breathes. Deeply. She feels the press of her other’s arms around her as her chest expands to its limits, as she pulls further back and straightened with the crackling ‘pop’s of her vertebrae. The ignored, sore, tension in her neck flares even against the buzzing warmth working its way into her muscles where there is contact. She can feel the furiously burning urge of her affections work its way tight into her lungs, with the slow release of air.

Always so contained even in the trembling intensity of herself, the woman manages a controlled poise in the slow loft of her hand, to curl around her other’s and loosen the connected grip of her two limbs around Thanidiel’s collar. Upturning the wrist, her lips press there - to the softness, the pulse of it, then breath and words wash over the skin.

“Would you call me a liar if I said I was sincerely finished for the night?”

“No. But that doesn’t answer my question.”

There is a stutter that overcomes her then. A skipped beat. The muscles of her brow shift as confusion weighs on them. Her fingers curl a bit tighter around the back of the hand they grip, their pads pressing in the soft of the palm underneath. She draws Cayvia’s limb back to where it was, settling both of their hands along where her collar moves into shoulder. The retired fighter leans just a bit away, her head twisting to the glowing blue gaze aside her.

“No?”

“No.”

“Why.” cracks through the air in her obtuse demand.

“You being ‘finished’, is different than you actually retiring.”

“If that’s the case, I did that two years ago.”

“When you dodge a straight answer, I can tell that’s about a ‘Never’, you know.”

The way Cayvia’s words ring in her ears makes both of them shift back into a pin. The light, airy, blaze that had been burning inside of her lungs just seconds earlier dies with a pang. Yes, the warmth is still there; the warmth she has always put there. But the dissonance rang behind it (the hurt).

This is not the first time that Thanidiel Highdawn has forgotten Cayvia Rosevale in her ways. This is not a new occurrence. This is merely the ache that rumbles, stretches, and yawns as it shakes itself free from the old dust of years.

Her breath sounds like a rattle in her ears.

“I’m sorry.”

“I know.”

“This is important to me.”

“I know.”

“...I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you, too,” just barely wry.

She feels her other pull away. The drone of her itching mind is quick to attempt to do the same unto her. The incessant itch to think and do. The map. Her estimates. Her gaze breaks away from the black of the wall and—

Tea. Atop of the dictionaries. Steaming. Fresh. The amber of it is something intense between lantern light and moons outside. She angles her chair towards it, pushing it backwards slightly.

The obsession that had grasped her, so deeply, breaks. An acute awareness takes over her, then. So many things had been diminished into invisibility under the weight of her selective mind.

The endless roar of the rain against the grass and the roofing and where there is a furious, angled, pitter-patter against the eastern wall. The fluctuating light-and-dark of the night through the windows. The pain underneath her shoulder blades. The pain from her seat. The chill that permeates the room and weaves a numb ache into her digits. The warmth seeping from where the kitchen is situated. The warmth seeping from the lantern. The warmth seeping from the tea. The tea.

She was so fucking engaged in her own world, she failed to notice the lengthy process, the lengthy presence, of her other within the same room. The collection of wood and straw. The flare of a fire. The draw of water. The draw of the kettle. The whistling heat of the kettle. The onpour of it. The seeping of the tea leaves. The placement of it by her own damned head.

Something coils in her gut. Something that had been building like embers in underbrush ever since she had begun to forget her other more and more. Something, that has now bloomed and now slithers in a slow, wet, snake all throughout and along her insides.

Something that makes her stand up.

Something that makes her leave the tea untouched.

Something that makes her move through the darkness, to the bedroom. To her other.

Something that makes her pull herself under the blankets. Something that makes her reach out her hand to press widespread along Cayvia’s hip and stomache as her lover rotates to regard her, question her. Something that makes her kiss her other with nothing short of careful reverence—you can’t even place the last time you did this. Something that makes her gently push and settle her back into place afterwards. Something that makes her settle as flushed to Cayvia’s back as possible, with her arms banded around her and her chin level with the crown of brown hair before her.

Something that makes her say nothing - citing that she knows well of the insufficiency of words when there is cavern and empty.

Something that wishes to prolonge.

Emberbreeze can wait.

She is needed here, now.

[thecrossovergames]

Thomas Charles “TC” Callahan | Thirty One | Human | District Twelve | Eoin Macken | Availability: NPC

Strengths:

Good Under Pressure: Being a trauma doctor means that, as well as facing challenges in a hospital environment, TC also faces challenges when he is called out into the field. Due to his past as a medic while serving as a peacekeeper, TC is used to working in situations which can be honestly be downright scary. An example of such a situation occurred recently, when TC was almost impaled by a metal pole while trying to free a patient who had been impaled during Alma Coin’s bombing of The Nut.

Fighter: As well as being trained as a medic, TC was also trained to be a soldier - well, a Peacekeeper. When his brother, Thad, went into Peacekeeper training, TC followed, becoming on of the youngest recruits to pass out of the program. TC knows his way around firearms and can hold his own in hand-to-hand combat; something which has come in handy since TC’s drinking has often led to the Doctor becoming involved in brawls during his travels.

Compassionate / Self Sacrificing: To be a Doctor, is to show compassion to your patient; whether this be in a hospital or out in the field, or whether they be friend or foe, TC feels deeply for those placed under his care, and if he is the one to triage you on sight? Chances are that he’ll be the one treating you until you wake up on the other side of any treatment or surgery you may go through. Even if there are other medics who are as equally qualified to take over.

Loyal: TC is a loyal person. When he joined the peacekeepers as a teenager, TC took his oaths to heart and endeavored to be the best in his unit. When the Capitol paid for him to go to med school, TC worked damn hard to ensure their faith in his abilities had not been misplaced. When Thad picked him for his unit, TC vowed not to let his older brother down. But following Thad’s death, after their unit was sent on a raid with sloppy intel and no backup, TC found the foundations of his loyalties shaken to the core. Now a rebel, TC’s loyalties lie with Paylor and the other rebels fighting against Coin and a regime that is built on lies. While his loyalty is not as forthcoming as it used to be when he was a teenager, when TC decides to give himself to a cause, he does follow through. However, don’t be surprised if TC questions orders; he no longer follows them as blindly as he used to, and he will call you out if he doesn’t like what he hears.

Weaknesses:

Post Traumatic Stress Disorder: Due to his experiences during the war, TC was discharged from his role as Peacekeeper following the death of his brother, Thad. After losing Thad, TC suffered a breakdown that was only made known to his Commanding Officer following a refusal to allow TC to attend his brother’s funeral, led to TC making a rather spectacular scene during a presentation. While he hasn’t been officially been diagnosed as suffering from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, TC’s behavior following his breakdown and discharge, all point to TC having the condition.

Alcohol / Gambling: When things get too much for the medic - and when Topher and Jordan aren’t there to keep him on the straight and narrow - TC tends to fall back on old coping mechanisms initially seen following his discharge. These coping mechanisms are drinking too much and gambling away money he frankly doesn’t have. Lucky for TC however, he has a great friend in fellow former Peacekeeper, Topher - who lends him the money to pay back the people he owes… most of the time anyway…

Jordan Alexander: Jordan. The love of TC’s life and his on-off girlfriend for the past decade. TC met Jordan during their medical residency in District Five’s main hospital before the onset of rebellion - back when TC was loyal to the Capitol - and they continued to be close even after TC’s discharge and his decision to join the rebels. At the moment the pair are not together, but TC will do anything to keep Jordan safe. Anything.

Reckless: TC’s levels of recklessness rival his penchant for being self-sacrificing, when it comes to the lengths he goes to helping his patients. One such display took place during he and Jordan’s residency, when TC ran into a burning building during an exercise (without the proper equipment) - only to end up having to be rescued himself after being overcome by smoke inhalation. While he didn’t exactly pass the exercise, that particular act of recklessness led to him meeting Jordan.

Biography:

It would be a cliche to say that, for Thomas Charles Callahan, home is where the heart is. But, the truth is, home for TC is wherever his long term girlfriend Jordan Alexander is. It wasn’t always this way, of course. TC used to have a family once, and an older brother who had looked out for him for as long as TC can remember. But that’s all gone now thanks to the blind following of orders, led to TC losing his older brother and the shattering of oaths he had sworn to live by.

TC was originally born in District Twelve during the height of Voldemort’s reign. The youngest of two children, TC’s odds weren’t the best to begin with - especially considering the Callahan family resided with the Seam - but TC proved to be a survivor from the start, and he continues to prove it now. With a father who was a coal miner, and a mother who had been sickly for as long as he could remember; TC was more or less raised by his older brother, Thad, who was nearly four years TC’s senior. To a young TC, Thaddeus J Callahan - or “Thad” for short - was the best brother in the world. Thad ensured TC had enough food, went to bed on time and went to school everyday. It was Thad who was there when TC suffered nightmares after having a too-close encounter with a dementor; and Thad who taught TC how to fight when he found out that TC was being bullied. As the two brothers grew into teenagers, the Callahan brothers were considered to be inseparable by those who knew them; and this would prove to be invaluable when the boys’ parents died when TC was fourteen, and Thad convinced the authorities not to throw TC into foster care when he could look after him.

When Thad decided to join the peacekeepers at nineteen years old, following an incident which led to the two brothers being brought up on charges by a visiting peacekeeper from another district for selling goods on the black market, a sixteen year old TC followed suit when it was made clear he could either enlist as a peacekeeper or be sent into the arena. Entering Peacekeeper training, TC and Thad stuck together as they had always done throughout, until TC’s penchant for field medicine was made known to the officer in charge of overseeing Peacekeeper training and he was given the opportunity to study in Panem’s best medical facilities in District Five. It was the first time the Callahan brother’s had ever been separated, and the transition from always having Thad by his side to not having him there at all, was a rough one. TC proceeded to fall into his medical training; focusing more on his studying than making friends. However, this single minded focus changed when he met fellow resident, Jordan Alexander; who treated him following an exercise in emergency response led to TC suffering from smoke inhalation and the borrowing of a pink sweater, and the pair soon struck up a friendship that would evolve into a relationship during the pair’s last year of residency. Upon the completion of his medical training, TC returned to The Nut and to Thad who had since obtained the rank of Captain. Returning to his duties as Peacekeeper, now under the role as his unit’s medic, TC continued his relationship with Jordan, despite being separated by districts - and Thad would accompany TC several times while on leave to meet the woman who had won his little brother’s heart.

For the first time, TC felt that life was good, despite the near daily threats from routine patrols on the streets in District Two; but that all changed when rumors of Rebellion broke out. With the threat of an uprising, Peacekeeping units were dispatched from the Nut, out into the Panem districts to uphold law and order during a time of potential civil unrest. It would be on a raid on a suspected rebel safehouse, that TC’s world would be turned upside down, when Thad was seemingly killed by a young rebel boy who didn’t look older than twelve, right in front of TC. Frozen, TC could only watch as other members of the brothers’ unit killed the boy; before snapping out of his shock and attempting to save Thad. He was unsuccessful, and Thad died beside a burning house, his blood on TC’s hands. Recalled to the Nut, TC discovered that the unit was sent into the house with sloppy intel on the Capitol’s part, and this,combined with his new Commanding Officer’s refusal to allow him to attend Thad’s funeral in District Five, pushed TC over the edge, leading to his discharge from the Peacekeepers and his return to District Five, where he was reunited with Jordan. As the rebellion reached it’s height in Panem, Jordan was left trying to pick up the pieces of a now broken TC. A year after his move to District Five, as both rebels and Death Eaters alike were sent into the Second Arena, believing he was doing her a favor due to his lack of progress in getting better, TC broke up with Jordan; leaving both sides bitter but giving TC the push he needed to try and fix himself without the risk of hurting Jordan anymore than he believed he already had.

Leaving the safety of District Five for the first time since coming back after Thad’s death, TC eventually found his way to District Two, just as the Rebels he had heard stories about during his time helping with the relief effort in District Seven returned to Panem from South America. While finding his way to the Nut had been mere coincidence - wanting nothing more to do with the rebellion or the capitol after what had happened with Thad - TC found himself taking a job within the mountain he had been trained to fight those he now lived amongst, facing the unexpected challenge of a capitol manufactured virus along the way. TC also reached out to Jordan during this time, and the two began to maintain a level of regular contact the pair had lacked since their breakup; TC sharing his thoughts of joining Paylor and the rebels as he began to gain more of an insight into Panem’s new president, while Jordan offered stories of shared friends back in Five and her own short lived relationship with a surgeon, Scott Clemmens. With the bombing of the Nut bringing with it flashbacks of the day Thad died, TC - who managed to escape the bombing and safely relocate to Terminus - is battling old demons, as memories of the day Thad was shot (that have been seemingly locked away), slowly resurface after years of being forgotten.

[michaelwalshblog-blog]

National Parks in 2050: WPA-style posters warn of a dreary future from climate change

Hannah Rothstein hopes that her art project demonstrates that climate change is a serious threat to the American landscape. (Photos: left, Ranger Doug/rangerdoug.com, right, Hannah Rothstein/hrothstein.com)

A California artist is putting her own touch on the classic National Park travel posters to show what might happen to the United States’ national treasures if climate change continues unabated.

Hannah Rothstein, of Berkeley, Calif., thinks of her series of paintings and poster-sized prints, “National Parks 2050,” as a call to action in the hope that others will be moved to take action after seeing climate change hit so close to home. The paintings depict dead redwoods, dried-up lakes, desiccated saguaro cactuses and snowless mountains.

Her message is that the United States can stave off these worst consequences of climate change but only by acting now — embracing the innovation and can-do spirit that made the country great.

Yahoo News reached out to Rothstein to learn more about what motivated the project and what she hopes will come from it. She said that climate change should be considered a non-partisan issue and hopes that Americans of all political persuasions — from politicians on Capitol Hill to everyday citizens across the country — can work together to save the National Parks and the world from the fate she depicts.

Hannah Rothstein is donating a portion of the proceeds from the sales of her limited-edition art prints to organizations dedicated to fighting climate change. (Photos: left, Ranger Doug/rangerdoug.com, right, Hannah Rothstein/hrothstein.com)

The following conversation has been edited for clarity and length.

Yahoo News: How did you decide to address climate change with your artwork?

Hannah Rothstein: Climate change is an issue that worries me quite a bit, particularly in the current political climate. I’m afraid that any progress we have made is being infringed upon and it’s not an issue where we can afford to go backward. If we don’t start making the positive changes we can make now, we can’t exactly reverse what we’re about to do. And I’m scared about what the future might look like, both as someone who needs the resources we depend upon in this world and as someone who loves the outdoors. So it’s an issue I knew I wanted to address in my art, and it’s been on my mind. I spent about a month or so thinking about it before I came up with an idea that felt right.

Would you consider these prints political or would you choose another word to define them?

I’m trying to keep this a non-partisan art project. I know that climate change is often politicized, but it really is a non-partisan issue. It’s something that’s going to affect us all whether we are on the far left, far right or somewhere above or below the spectrum of political belief. It’s something that is really going to have an extreme impact on all of our lives. So I would more so call it a humanist art project. I definitely understand why it feels political because unfortunately this issue is politicized right now, but I want people to remember that it’s not. Even with the choices of the parks that I decided to feature in the project, I tried to choose parks that represented a diversity of both location and political persuasion. There are parks from red states. There are parks from blue states. I tried hard to do that deliberately.

Hannah Rothstein based her paintings on artwork created by Ranger Doug in the style of Works Progress Administration posters. (Photos: left, Ranger Doug/rangerdoug.com, right, Hannah Rothstein/hrothstein.com)

What sort of research went into determining what the parks might look like if we stay on our current trajectory?

I looked at three main spots. Each park has a dot-gov website and most have information about how climate change is currently affecting the park and how it’s projected to affect the park in the future. I read through each park’s site, some of them even have YouTube videos with rangers talking about it. I looked at news articles from reputable news sources, often based off scientific studies. And then I’d follow through by looking at those studies and others.

What were some interesting things you learned while doing the research about the effects that you incorporated into the artwork?

Some of the things that maybe were a little less obvious that I found to be fascinating were the starving grizzles in the Yosemite posters. That’s in part because the pine trees are being threatened by the warming of the climate, which in turn promotes pine beetle infestation. Pine beetles are killing off pine trees with greater and greater frequency and grizzly bears eat a lot of pine nuts for their food. That’s something I found fascinating on a personal level. I was in Yosemite in March and saw that about 30 percent of the pine trees are brown. At that point I could look at them and say, “This is likely because of the pine beetle infestations that are happening.” And that’s something I wouldn’t have known before. Seeing that live and in-action was very impactful and meaningful to me.

Hannah Rothstein used her project to highlight problems facing Yellowstone National Park. (Photos: left, Ranger Doug/rangerdoug.com, right, Hannah Rothstein/hrothstein.com)

Another thing I found interesting I couldn’t quite include in the poster because I was trying to keep concise. In the Yellowstone area there’s going to be less snow melt and that’s what’s going to result in the geysers erupting less often, because there’s less ground water. Less snow melt and ground water also means there’s going to be less water going into the Colorado River, a major source of water for agricultural purposes. So it’s really going to effect people’s food in the near future. It’s fascinating to think about how that will have a real, immediate effect on people’s lives.

What kind of feedback have you gotten?

Mostly very positive and I’ve been happy to see how meaningful people find it. I think the general sentiment is that this is depressing but really impactful and important. I’m hoping that it inspires people to take action even though it is a little bit on the sadder side. I hope it helps people remember this is not an issue we can wait on and that’s it’s hitting close to home. It’s in all of our backyards. There have of course been some comments on online articles about how “climate change is not happening.” One person commented that I was “a liberal idiot artist,” which I think means I was a success. I’m not trying to politicize it but that did amuse me. Mostly the feedback has been really great.

These are parodies of the original national park posters. Could you tell me a little bit about the origin of those?

That’s actually an interesting thing that I learned a lot about during this process as well. WPA [the Works Progress Administration] offered this service to the parks. There were around 14 original posters designed by the WPA artists and screen-printed in the ‘30s and ‘40s. This guy, Ranger Doug, became really interested in these posters and started working with the parks to do contemporary recreations in the old style to make them for even more parks. He’s done about 35 so it makes about 50 in total. I find these posters very evocative of a time we’re all nostalgic for, when America was at its greatest, building and creating. I think bringing that sentiment to help convey that message makes it all the more meaningful and impactful.

You can see more of Hannah Rothstein’s work on her official website, where she’s selling limited-edition “National Parks 2050″ prints. She said a portion of proceeds will go to climate-focused organizations.

Read more from Yahoo News:

Nearing trial, extradited drug lord El Chapo returns to court in Brooklyn

Trump’s newest executive order disappoints religious conservatives

Rep. Joe Kennedy on Obamacare repeal: ‘The fight is not over’

Trump, Ryan declare victory on Obamacare repeal — but its future is still uncertain

Photos: Ukraine: A forgotten war in Europe

[doublenuzlocke]

Entry #1: An eye for an eye

   CRYSTAL

It’s like she’d just swallowed liquid mercury. She’s choking, she’s drowning, dread tight as a snake around her throat. Her blood turns ice cold, cold as the voice resonating in the air. Kotone sends her a distressed look, a silent plea for help.

But unlike a solid meal or a torn-off shirt, her cousin can’t save her from the Hunger Games.

(Can she ?)

Rocket grunts come to seize the scared child (so small, so young) and she can’t, she can’t accept this, she can’t , she won’t, no, not Kotone, no, no, NO

She shoves Gold’s hand off her shoulder, refusing to meet his eyes.

(An eye for an eye)

(Her life my betrayal)

 When her shout escapes her throat, silence falls heavy as her death sentence.

“ I volunteer ! ”

***                                                 

To be fair, she manages quite well the first few days.  She doesn’t starve, thanks to years of feeding her family ; she hides well, thanks to years of hanging out with Gold.

Sadly, no one is safe from pure, dumb bad luck.

Her ears are still ringing from the explosion ; her entire body is agony. Next to her, lays the burned body of a less fortunate tribute.

Fuck. Fuck !

Everything. Hurts. Breathing. Moving. She wants… she wants out. Time out. Just five minutes.

But she can’t, of course ; she already sees movement coming from her right, and she has to leave, even if she has to crawl for it.

Come on. Come on ! Get up !

A shadow is hovering over her, ready to put an end to her pitiful struggle.

No. NO. She. She doesn’t want to die.

She wants to live.

(Something buried deep, deep in her bones, an old flame of power, stirs.)

Her hit draws blood off the other tribute’s leg.

The man jumps back with a pained yelp. He immediately gazes at her hand, looking for the knife.

There is no knife.

And that is no hand.

(An eye for an eye)

(My humanity for my survival)

***

She’s going insane.

Her body keeps changing, growing fur one hour and distorting her limbs the next. She’s a shapeshifting monster, stuck between a human and a beast. The only constant between the transformations is the burning feeling in her chest, and this isn’t exactly a comforting thing.

Literally the only reason she hasn’t lost her mind yet is because she keeps thinking, what would Gold do ?

(Go with the flow, of course. The boy could accidentally summon a demon he’d still find a way to be happy about it.)

***

She doesn’t immediately realize that something is wrong.

(Then again, none of the remaining tributes do.)

The first hint is the lack of cannon shot that night. But she, like all the others, assume simply that nobody died that day.

On the second night, she grows antsy. No death for two days in a row ? Something terrible is bound to happen. What will the Capitol throw at her ? Monsters ? Toxic gas ? She tries to remember what happened during the previous Hunger Games, theorizes what is the most likely to come in. It only terrifies her more.

On the third day, a tribute finds her.

His throat is torn open.

Crystal slams his head against the ground and runs.

Only when her vision blurs, only when her breaths seem to kill her lungs, only then does she stop. Her legs slip under her and she passes out.

When she wakes up, two things hit her :

-She must have ran really, really fast

-She’s out of the arena

   SILVER

One might think that the son of President Giovanni wouldn’t be so good at surviving the apocalypse.

Well, one would be wrong. Living in a paranoid household with a kleptomaniac hobo as your best friend does teach you some useful things.

When he hears screaming outside, he knows to check what it is about with a mean of defending himself.

When he sees swarms of dead people walking in the streets, he knows to loot anything that might be useful in the future on his way.

When his father calls desperately for his help, a zombie at his throat, Silver knows to save himself and abandon him.

At least, that’s something his father taught him right.

(An eye for an eye)

(Your life my life)

***

When he meets Crystal, there’s blood dripping off his face, and her teeth are too big to fit in her mouth.

His first reflex is to reach for his bat, because even if she’s obviously alive, there is no way that girl is human; her huge body hunched forward reminds him of a persian who would have learned to walk; the light glowing through her shirt around her chest and stomach have gives him chills running down your spine ; and her face is one of nightmare, long ears pointed and glowing eyes staring right at him.

“ Are you hurt ?! ”

The concern in her voice is so genuine he doesn’t know what to do.

“ Uhm. No ? Not my blood. ” He answers dumbly, because what else can you do when a two meters tall beef mountain act more concerned about you than your father ever has ?

“ Oh. Good. ” Is that relief ? He’s not sure. For all he knows, he could be delusional and hallucinating the whole conversation. “Hey would you happen to know how to go to district twelve from here ?”

***

They stick together, after that. At first out of necessity ; it’s safer to stay together, after all. Then, because they come to genuinely like each others.

“How does this” he asks one day, gesturing at the fur piercing her arms “even happen ? Like where is it even from.”

Crystal shrugs. “I have a few theories, but nothing certain. The only thing I can tell you for sure is that it seems to be tied to my emotions. When I’m really angry, or scared, or distressed, I shift.”

Interesting, in a creepy way. What could be the origin of that ?

“Maybe one of my ancestors was really close to his arcanine ?”

Wow. Okay. No. Thank you for the mental image, Crystal.

She laughs, though, and he can’t help but do to, because when the world turns upside down you need to find joy wherever you can.

“Doesn’t it bother you, though ?” he asks when he can breath again.

“ At first, yeah. ” Once again, she shrugs.  " I choked a child to death for the amusement of the Capitol. I don’t really feel human anymore. “

***

It starts as any other days would have. Crystal gets back human teeth and human legs, and grows a mane down her spine instead. Silver sharpens his axes and add scissors to his bat with duck tape.

And then they meet him.

Silver is ready to ax him to death, as usual. Rotting flesh and missing eye are kind of dead giveaways that their owner is a zombie.

But Crystal, in a very un-Crystal fashion, freezes, eyes wide as plates.

” Gold ? “ her voice is faint, like a prayer.

But more surprisingly, the zombie’s head snap in her direction, and he speaks.

” Crystal ? “

   GOLD

Gold doesn’t remember much. That is, almost nothing.

What he does remember, is an unhealthy hate for the Capitol (whatever that is) and that he really, really loves Crystal.

It goes back though, slowly, a little more every weeks. Laughter, in the trees. Hunting together. Dreaming of escaping the district. Reading together-

Reading

He chokes on air when the swarm of memories come back. It’s messy, and fuzzy, but he, he, he remembers, he

” You volunteered. “ He doesn’t mean for it to sound accusatory.

” That I did. “ Her tone is defiant. ’ Fight me, ’ it implies. ’ I don’t regret a thing. ’

” We used to read. Together. “ Crystal seems puzzled, but he’s too busy trying to get a grasp of the memories before they leave. ” I- I remembered something. Something in your books. After you were reaped, I read your books, about the legends, and the myths, and I knew nobody would follow me there- “

” Gold, you’re not making any sense. “

He takes a deep breathe. In. Out. In.

Out.

” I don’t remember what I was looking for in your books, but I found it. I went to Mount Silver because of it. And whatever it was, it’s linked to all of this. “

***

The travel up Mt Silver is… really, really long. Especially so that unlike himself, who can’t feel temperatures anymore, or Crystal, who constantly has a raging inferno in her belly and occasionally some bonus thick fur, Silver doesn’t handle well the cold. Thankfully, cuddles usually help. But still.

Eventually, they do manage to reach the top.

What they find up there takes their breath away.

Silver sees a giant hole in the sky, badly stitched back together. Crystal sees wooden doors sealed by golden chains.

Gold sees himself.

” What are those ? “

” The doors to the other side. “ Maybe his mirrored self is speaking. Maybe it’s him. Maybe it doesn’t matter.

” … like in that children’s book ? About Ho-oh ? “

Precisely.

” If they’re closed, no wonder we have zombies everywhere. Why are they though ? “

Oh, he knows.

He wishes he didn’t.

” It’s me. I’m holding them closed. My soul is holding them closed. “ 

(An eye for an eye)

(Her life for my betrayal)

“I was angry. I was sad.” he tries to explains himself, even if can’t excuse his own actions “I wanted you to not die. I wanted all of it to stop, the Reaping, the Hunger Games, the districts, the Capitol.”

“So I forced it all to stop. ”

***

A tribute, the son of the president, and a forgettable district boy walk over the roof of the world.

It sounds like the beginning of a joke.

This is how this story ends.

Most people will say, later, that the zombies just dropped dead without warning. Fewer people, who happened to be near the frontier between what will later become Kanto and Johto, will describe a flash of light on top of the mountain, and the most impressive avalanche ever witnessed.

Time will pass. Society will build itself again, a little fairer, a little stronger. Things will change. The story of the dreaded Hunger Games, the hated Capitol, the infamous zombie apocalypse, will be lost to the crushing jaws of time.

Nobody will recover the three bodies beneath the snow.

(An eye for an eye)

(Peace for our lives)

[jimblanceusa]

Apocalypse here: Why Colorado is such a popular setting for humanity’s downfall

In Wasteland 3, the latest entry in the influential role-playing game series, a group of militarized survivors fight through the frozen shells of Colorado Springs, Aspen and Denver during a nuclear winter that makes most blizzards look tame by comparison.

The choice of setting was easy for the video game’s art director.

“We’d done ‘brown and hot’ for two games in Arizona, and we needed a change, so we went with white and cold for this one,” said Aaron Meyers, who lived part-time in Denver during the game’s development. “Colorado seemed like the perfect place to give us that feel and those aesthetics, as well as a wealth of interesting lore and locations to mine for our story.”

Wasteland 3, which was released for the PlayStation 4, Xbox One and PC on Aug. 28, joins a long line of video games that have pictured Colorado as a blood-soaked landscape of zombies, foreign military invasions and robot dinosaurs, including acclaimed, multimillion-dollar earners like The Last of Us, Horizon: Zero Dawn, the Dead Rising series, Homefront, World War Z and Call of Duty: Ghosts.

Even those are just one category in a larger group of novels, TV series, films and comics that have mined Colorado for their apocalyptic and post-apocalyptic stories, from Stephen King’s “The Stand” — which imagined Boulder as the center of humanity’s resistance against a supernatural evil — to “Dr. Strangelove,” “Waterworld,” “Battlefield Earth” and “Interstellar.”

“You can really visualize Colorado when you mention it, even if you’ve never been here,” said Denver author Mario Acevedo, who has written wildly imaginative, urban-fantasy novels starring werewolves, vampires and zombies. “We’re shorthand for ‘mountains,’ but also the type of people who tend to live in the mountains. Scrappy people do what it takes to survive.”

But even as writers and artists paint Colorado with ashen skies, resource-driven riots and nuclear holocausts, the trappings of the post-apocalyptic genre have grown all too cozy in 2020.

Across the U.S., multi-state wildfires, a devastating hurricane, and civic unrest feel like cruel toppings on a summer already larded with misery in the form of a global viral pandemic that has killed nearly 200,000 Americans and left millions unemployed. As the line between depiction and prediction grows almost invisibly thin for post-apocalyptic storytellers, they’ve been forced to turn up the intensity to stand out from our increasingly grim reality.

“Over 40 years of popular culture, a lot of people have looked at what’s happening on a global scale and extrapolated these disasters that end up mirroring reality,” said Boulder novelist Carrie Vaughn, whose 2017 book “Bannerless” won sci-fi’s coveted Philip K. Dick award.

They just didn’t think it would arrive so soon — or all at the same time.

“The only thing that hasn’t happened yet is zombies,” Vaughn said with a laugh. “And I’m not going to make any bets against that.”

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For centuries, apocalypse stories centered around humanity’s punishment from angry gods. That changed after World War II as people woke up to the possibility of global nuclear annihilation. Since then, post-apocalyptic stories and dystopian sci-fi have spread out into every facet of popular culture.

But with the events of 2020, the genre seems to be eating itself from the inside out, particularly as the tropes and clichés of the genre continue to pile up. Is there anywhere else to go?

A perfectly terrible place

Yes, things are messed up everywhere. Few people are immune to the “historic convergence of health, economic, environmental and social emergencies,” as the Associated Press called our “turbulent reality” last week.

But even during good times, popular narratives did not usually depict Colorado as a fun, happy place. Westerns and horror were two of the first genres to capitalize on the state’s isolated, hardscrabble reputation in the 20th century through both novels and films. Harsh winters, brutal landscapes, cabin fever and cannibalism are built into the state’s history — and thus the way people continue to perceive Colorado.

“People who aren’t from here view it as a frontier because it still has this kind of Old West-aura to it,” Vaughn said. “Montana feels remote, but somehow, Colorado is very accessible. You’ve got mountains, prairies and lots of pioneer credibility.”

In fact, the rugged lawlessness and individualism of Westerns, as well as tales like “The Shining,” helped set the stage for today’s post-apocalyptic Colorado narratives, which found their lasting visualization in 1979’s ”Mad Max” and its 1981 sequel, “The Road Warrior.”

But movies such as 1984’s ”Red Dawn” — which imagines Calumet (a former mining town north of Walsenburg) as ground zero for a military invasion by the Soviet Union — also influenced a generation of storytellers.

“I was 11 or 12 when that came out and it was a big favorite of mine,” Vaughn said. “It’s just ridiculous, though. How realistic is an army coming in and trying to occupy the Rocky Mountains? And yet the movie was so iconic that it imprinted on a lot of people.”

Vaughn is a self-described military brat who first came to Colorado when her father was stationed in Colorado Springs. She believes our concentration of military bases plays a big role in the casting of the state. For decades, storytellers have returned to Colorado to visit the command center inside Cheyenne Mountain in Colorado Springs, which has been imagined as both a catalyst for a global nuclear disaster and the last refuge in an irradiated world (see “Dr. Strangelove,” the “Terminator” series, “Jeremiah,” “Interstellar,” etc.).

“I love it because of ‘WarGames’ and ‘Stargate SG-1,’ ” Vaughn said of Cheyenne Mountain’s recurring role in science fiction. “But I got to tour NORAD in high school through my Girl Scouts troop, and again in my current events class, and of course it looks nothing like the underground city you see in most movies. The big blast door, at least, is accurate.”

Some storytellers, such as Wasteland 3 art director Meyers, lean into their artistic license.

“We tend to parody cliché rather than avoiding it entirely, so a few of Colorado’s pop culture connections get a nod and a wink,” he said. “But we didn’t go out of our way to include or exclude any trope based on whether it was well known. If it worked for the story or added to the atmosphere, we put our own twist on it and used it.”

Like Meyers, Wasteland 3 senior concept artist Dan Glasl has lived in Colorado (in the latter’s case, growing up just west of Colorado Springs) and visited most of the iconic areas depicted in the game, from Garden of the Gods to downtown Denver’s Union Station, the Colorado State Capitol and even the former Stapleton Airport.

“We did try to pick locations and landmarks that would be iconic to Coloradans and interesting and visually appealing to outsiders,” Meyers said. “So you can visit places like the Garden of the Gods and the Denver (International) Airport, and see our takes on them, as well as lesser-known places like Peterson Air Force base, and then sillier places like Santa’s Workshop — which is in fact a front for a drug operation.”

Whose apocalypse?

While outsiders may see us a mono-culture, Coloradans know how radically different the conservative Eastern Plains or Western Slope are from ritzy ski-resort towns and liberal Front Range cities. Like Stephen King’s Maine, Colorado is diverse enough in geography and culture to welcome a variety of fictional interpretations.

But that doesn’t mean they’re accurate.

“If you say ‘Colorado’ to someone in the Midwest, they’ll have certain stereotypes about us,” Acevedo said. “And storytellers use that to their advantage. We’re remote enough that they can fill in the blanks and people will buy it.”

Most of these stories don’t reach beyond the history of European settlers as their implied starting points, whereas Colorado’s Native American, Spanish and Mexican history runs much deeper. Until the last century, birth rates in the mountain west were persistently low, Acevedo said, due to the persistently harsh conditions.

That led to constant, life-or-death clashes between indigenous tribes that were, for all intents and purposes, their own versions of the apocalypse. (And that’s not even considering the arrival of European settlers.)

“The Arapaho, Comanche and Utes all had low survival rates,” Acevedo said. “You can’t go to any one part of this land and say, ‘Well, this is the pure, original history of it,’ because everything is folded over everything else. When each previous civilization or society ended, it was truly their apocalypse. You have to look at the history of a people, not just the history of a region.”

For example, few Colorado stories — apocalyptic, western or otherwise — dig back to the Cliff Dwellers of Mesa Verde, whose civilization collapsed near the end of the 13th century due to drought. Despite their essentially Stone Age technology, the Ancestral Puebloans traded with travelers from all over the region and left spectacular marks on their environment.

“The people living in Colorado 1,000 years ago were a lot more aware of what was going on around them than we give them credit for,” Acevedo said. “But with oral history and no written language, it was harder to keep track of things. You could go back however far you want and find an interesting story about some of the early Cro-Magnons coming across the land bridge, and the onset of the Ice Age — that being an appropriately apocalyptic event for them.”

As in reality, not every fictional character is affected the same way by disasters. People with money and privilege tend to see the effects last, insulated as they are from the rusty clockwork of everyday life.

But when a story involves disasters that affect us all — climate change, water shortages, viral pandemics and zombie/alien invasions — there’s opportunity for pointed social commentary and personal reflection, authors say.

“There are 10 million stories about how computing is going to change our lives,” said Paonia-born Paolo Bacigalupi, a bestselling sci-fi author and Hugo award winner, in a 2015 interview. “I think we can have a few more about climate change, drought, water rights, the loss of biodiversity and how we adapt to a changing environment.”

Bacigalupi’s acclaimed sci-fi novel “The Water Knife” imagines a near future in which the Southwest is dramatically remade by clashes over water resources. Bacigalupi was inspired, in part, by watching the fortunes of the rural area he grew up in rise and fall over dwindling water resources.

“I’m constantly looking over my shoulder,” he said shortly before “The Water Knife” was published, “because it seems so glaringly obvious that someone else would be writing about this exact same thing.”

Too real?

Before the title screen for Wasteland 3 appears, players are shown a disclaimer: “Wasteland 3 is a work of fiction. Ideas, dialog (sic) and stories we created early in development have in some cases been mirrored by our current reality. Our goal is to present a game of fictional entertainment, and any correlation to real-world events is purely coincidental.”

The game’s art director, Meyers, declined to answer questions about the reasoning behind the disclaimer, but that’s understandable. Games like Wasteland 3 typically take several years, hundreds of people and millions of dollars to produce. Appearing too topical, or turning off potential players with real-world, political overtones, can limit a game’s all-important appeal and profits.

Legal concerns also trail post-apocalyptic games set in real locations. When the PlayStation 4 exclusive Horizon: Zero Dawn launched to critical acclaim and massive sales in 2017, its publicists pitched The Denver Post on an article exploring their high-tech location scouting, which resulted in stunningly detailed Colorado foliage, weather patterns and simulated geography.

However, game developers would only agree to an interview if trademarked names were not mentioned, given that the studio had apparently not cleared their usage. While The Denver Post declined to write about it at the time, other media outlets ran photos of the game’s bombed-out, overgrown takes on Red Rocks Amphitheatre and what would become Empower Field at Mile High, as well as various natural formations and instantly recognizable statues in downtown Colorado Springs.

That gives Wasteland 3 — which uses elements of parody — some leeway, in the same way that TV’s “South Park” has mocked local celebrities like Jake Jabs, Ron Zappolo and John Elway without getting sued.

“We did have to change a few things here and there, but the references should still be clear to those who know,” Meyers said of Wasteland 3 items like Boors Beer (take a wild guess). “We’re part of the Xbox Game Studios, so there are teams of folks involved in ensuring we have things like proper rights clearances for names.”

Of course, that’s part of the problem in 2020: Bit by bit, it’s beginning to resemble any number of fictional, worst-case scenarios for the collapse of modern society. Competing political factions often label each other as violent cults. People who don’t wear masks have been described as zombies. Police violence and gun-toting civilians are everywhere.

In that way, it’s getting harder for writers and artists of post-apocalyptic stories to stay one step ahead of the news. There’s a creeping feeling that we’ve seen it all before — even if only in our heads. But good writing can be its own virtue, regardless of subject matter, and the post-apocalyptic genre has always stood proudly on the wobbly, irradiated shoulders of others.

“We’re obviously inspired by others and we wouldn’t even be the first post-apocalyptic game set in Colorado, but we have pretty unique sensibilities,” Meyers said of Wasteland 3. “It’s a very serious and dark world, but we put a unique twist on just about everything, and we really enjoy dark humor. You’re going to have brutal ethical decisions to make about life and death, but there’s a lot of humor throughout as well.”

Sounds familiar, doesn’t it?

Subscribe to our weekly newsletter, In The Know, to get entertainment news sent straight to your inbox.

from Latest Information https://www.denverpost.com/2020/09/02/apocalypse-here-why-colorado-is-such-a-popular-setting-for-humanitys-downfall/

[laurendzim]

Apocalypse here: Why Colorado is such a popular setting for humanity’s downfall

In Wasteland 3, the latest entry in the influential role-playing game series, a group of militarized survivors fight through the frozen shells of Colorado Springs, Aspen and Denver during a nuclear winter that makes most blizzards look tame by comparison.

The choice of setting was easy for the video game’s art director.

“We’d done ‘brown and hot’ for two games in Arizona, and we needed a change, so we went with white and cold for this one,” said Aaron Meyers, who lived part-time in Denver during the game’s development. “Colorado seemed like the perfect place to give us that feel and those aesthetics, as well as a wealth of interesting lore and locations to mine for our story.”

Wasteland 3, which was released for the PlayStation 4, Xbox One and PC on Aug. 28, joins a long line of video games that have pictured Colorado as a blood-soaked landscape of zombies, foreign military invasions and robot dinosaurs, including acclaimed, multimillion-dollar earners like The Last of Us, Horizon: Zero Dawn, the Dead Rising series, Homefront, World War Z and Call of Duty: Ghosts.

Even those are just one category in a larger group of novels, TV series, films and comics that have mined Colorado for their apocalyptic and post-apocalyptic stories, from Stephen King’s “The Stand” — which imagined Boulder as the center of humanity’s resistance against a supernatural evil — to “Dr. Strangelove,” “Waterworld,” “Battlefield Earth” and “Interstellar.”

“You can really visualize Colorado when you mention it, even if you’ve never been here,” said Denver author Mario Acevedo, who has written wildly imaginative, urban-fantasy novels starring werewolves, vampires and zombies. “We’re shorthand for ‘mountains,’ but also the type of people who tend to live in the mountains. Scrappy people do what it takes to survive.”

But even as writers and artists paint Colorado with ashen skies, resource-driven riots and nuclear holocausts, the trappings of the post-apocalyptic genre have grown all too cozy in 2020.

Across the U.S., multi-state wildfires, a devastating hurricane, and civic unrest feel like cruel toppings on a summer already larded with misery in the form of a global viral pandemic that has killed nearly 200,000 Americans and left millions unemployed. As the line between depiction and prediction grows almost invisibly thin for post-apocalyptic storytellers, they’ve been forced to turn up the intensity to stand out from our increasingly grim reality.

“Over 40 years of popular culture, a lot of people have looked at what’s happening on a global scale and extrapolated these disasters that end up mirroring reality,” said Boulder novelist Carrie Vaughn, whose 2017 book “Bannerless” won sci-fi’s coveted Philip K. Dick award.

They just didn’t think it would arrive so soon — or all at the same time.

“The only thing that hasn’t happened yet is zombies,” Vaughn said with a laugh. “And I’m not going to make any bets against that.”

Related Articles

Denver leaders had big plans to curb youth violence in 2019, but a pandemic and bureaucracy got in the way.

Safe ways for your kids to socialize during COVID-19

Denver’s “Clone Wars,” “Phineas and Ferb” voice actor on working (from home) through a pandemic

For centuries, apocalypse stories centered around humanity’s punishment from angry gods. That changed after World War II as people woke up to the possibility of global nuclear annihilation. Since then, post-apocalyptic stories and dystopian sci-fi have spread out into every facet of popular culture.

But with the events of 2020, the genre seems to be eating itself from the inside out, particularly as the tropes and clichés of the genre continue to pile up. Is there anywhere else to go?

A perfectly terrible place

Yes, things are messed up everywhere. Few people are immune to the “historic convergence of health, economic, environmental and social emergencies,” as the Associated Press called our “turbulent reality” last week.

But even during good times, popular narratives did not usually depict Colorado as a fun, happy place. Westerns and horror were two of the first genres to capitalize on the state’s isolated, hardscrabble reputation in the 20th century through both novels and films. Harsh winters, brutal landscapes, cabin fever and cannibalism are built into the state’s history — and thus the way people continue to perceive Colorado.

“People who aren’t from here view it as a frontier because it still has this kind of Old West-aura to it,” Vaughn said. “Montana feels remote, but somehow, Colorado is very accessible. You’ve got mountains, prairies and lots of pioneer credibility.”

In fact, the rugged lawlessness and individualism of Westerns, as well as tales like “The Shining,” helped set the stage for today’s post-apocalyptic Colorado narratives, which found their lasting visualization in 1979’s ”Mad Max” and its 1981 sequel, “The Road Warrior.”

But movies such as 1984’s ”Red Dawn” — which imagines Calumet (a former mining town north of Walsenburg) as ground zero for a military invasion by the Soviet Union — also influenced a generation of storytellers.

“I was 11 or 12 when that came out and it was a big favorite of mine,” Vaughn said. “It’s just ridiculous, though. How realistic is an army coming in and trying to occupy the Rocky Mountains? And yet the movie was so iconic that it imprinted on a lot of people.”

Vaughn is a self-described military brat who first came to Colorado when her father was stationed in Colorado Springs. She believes our concentration of military bases plays a big role in the casting of the state. For decades, storytellers have returned to Colorado to visit the command center inside Cheyenne Mountain in Colorado Springs, which has been imagined as both a catalyst for a global nuclear disaster and the last refuge in an irradiated world (see “Dr. Strangelove,” the “Terminator” series, “Jeremiah,” “Interstellar,” etc.).

“I love it because of ‘WarGames’ and ‘Stargate SG-1,’ ” Vaughn said of Cheyenne Mountain’s recurring role in science fiction. “But I got to tour NORAD in high school through my Girl Scouts troop, and again in my current events class, and of course it looks nothing like the underground city you see in most movies. The big blast door, at least, is accurate.”

Some storytellers, such as Wasteland 3 art director Meyers, lean into their artistic license.

“We tend to parody cliché rather than avoiding it entirely, so a few of Colorado’s pop culture connections get a nod and a wink,” he said. “But we didn’t go out of our way to include or exclude any trope based on whether it was well known. If it worked for the story or added to the atmosphere, we put our own twist on it and used it.”

Like Meyers, Wasteland 3 senior concept artist Dan Glasl has lived in Colorado (in the latter’s case, growing up just west of Colorado Springs) and visited most of the iconic areas depicted in the game, from Garden of the Gods to downtown Denver’s Union Station, the Colorado State Capitol and even the former Stapleton Airport.

“We did try to pick locations and landmarks that would be iconic to Coloradans and interesting and visually appealing to outsiders,” Meyers said. “So you can visit places like the Garden of the Gods and the Denver (International) Airport, and see our takes on them, as well as lesser-known places like Peterson Air Force base, and then sillier places like Santa’s Workshop — which is in fact a front for a drug operation.”

Whose apocalypse?

While outsiders may see us a mono-culture, Coloradans know how radically different the conservative Eastern Plains or Western Slope are from ritzy ski-resort towns and liberal Front Range cities. Like Stephen King’s Maine, Colorado is diverse enough in geography and culture to welcome a variety of fictional interpretations.

But that doesn’t mean they’re accurate.

“If you say ‘Colorado’ to someone in the Midwest, they’ll have certain stereotypes about us,” Acevedo said. “And storytellers use that to their advantage. We’re remote enough that they can fill in the blanks and people will buy it.”

Most of these stories don’t reach beyond the history of European settlers as their implied starting points, whereas Colorado’s Native American, Spanish and Mexican history runs much deeper. Until the last century, birth rates in the mountain west were persistently low, Acevedo said, due to the persistently harsh conditions.

That led to constant, life-or-death clashes between indigenous tribes that were, for all intents and purposes, their own versions of the apocalypse. (And that’s not even considering the arrival of European settlers.)

“The Arapaho, Comanche and Utes all had low survival rates,” Acevedo said. “You can’t go to any one part of this land and say, ‘Well, this is the pure, original history of it,’ because everything is folded over everything else. When each previous civilization or society ended, it was truly their apocalypse. You have to look at the history of a people, not just the history of a region.”

For example, few Colorado stories — apocalyptic, western or otherwise — dig back to the Cliff Dwellers of Mesa Verde, whose civilization collapsed near the end of the 13th century due to drought. Despite their essentially Stone Age technology, the Ancestral Puebloans traded with travelers from all over the region and left spectacular marks on their environment.

“The people living in Colorado 1,000 years ago were a lot more aware of what was going on around them than we give them credit for,” Acevedo said. “But with oral history and no written language, it was harder to keep track of things. You could go back however far you want and find an interesting story about some of the early Cro-Magnons coming across the land bridge, and the onset of the Ice Age — that being an appropriately apocalyptic event for them.”

As in reality, not every fictional character is affected the same way by disasters. People with money and privilege tend to see the effects last, insulated as they are from the rusty clockwork of everyday life.

But when a story involves disasters that affect us all — climate change, water shortages, viral pandemics and zombie/alien invasions — there’s opportunity for pointed social commentary and personal reflection, authors say.

“There are 10 million stories about how computing is going to change our lives,” said Paonia-born Paolo Bacigalupi, a bestselling sci-fi author and Hugo award winner, in a 2015 interview. “I think we can have a few more about climate change, drought, water rights, the loss of biodiversity and how we adapt to a changing environment.”

Bacigalupi’s acclaimed sci-fi novel “The Water Knife” imagines a near future in which the Southwest is dramatically remade by clashes over water resources. Bacigalupi was inspired, in part, by watching the fortunes of the rural area he grew up in rise and fall over dwindling water resources.

“I’m constantly looking over my shoulder,” he said shortly before “The Water Knife” was published, “because it seems so glaringly obvious that someone else would be writing about this exact same thing.”

Too real?

Before the title screen for Wasteland 3 appears, players are shown a disclaimer: “Wasteland 3 is a work of fiction. Ideas, dialog (sic) and stories we created early in development have in some cases been mirrored by our current reality. Our goal is to present a game of fictional entertainment, and any correlation to real-world events is purely coincidental.”

The game’s art director, Meyers, declined to answer questions about the reasoning behind the disclaimer, but that’s understandable. Games like Wasteland 3 typically take several years, hundreds of people and millions of dollars to produce. Appearing too topical, or turning off potential players with real-world, political overtones, can limit a game’s all-important appeal and profits.

Legal concerns also trail post-apocalyptic games set in real locations. When the PlayStation 4 exclusive Horizon: Zero Dawn launched to critical acclaim and massive sales in 2017, its publicists pitched The Denver Post on an article exploring their high-tech location scouting, which resulted in stunningly detailed Colorado foliage, weather patterns and simulated geography.

However, game developers would only agree to an interview if trademarked names were not mentioned, given that the studio had apparently not cleared their usage. While The Denver Post declined to write about it at the time, other media outlets ran photos of the game’s bombed-out, overgrown takes on Red Rocks Amphitheatre and what would become Empower Field at Mile High, as well as various natural formations and instantly recognizable statues in downtown Colorado Springs.

That gives Wasteland 3 — which uses elements of parody — some leeway, in the same way that TV’s “South Park” has mocked local celebrities like Jake Jabs, Ron Zappolo and John Elway without getting sued.

“We did have to change a few things here and there, but the references should still be clear to those who know,” Meyers said of Wasteland 3 items like Boors Beer (take a wild guess). “We’re part of the Xbox Game Studios, so there are teams of folks involved in ensuring we have things like proper rights clearances for names.”

Of course, that’s part of the problem in 2020: Bit by bit, it’s beginning to resemble any number of fictional, worst-case scenarios for the collapse of modern society. Competing political factions often label each other as violent cults. People who don’t wear masks have been described as zombies. Police violence and gun-toting civilians are everywhere.

In that way, it’s getting harder for writers and artists of post-apocalyptic stories to stay one step ahead of the news. There’s a creeping feeling that we’ve seen it all before — even if only in our heads. But good writing can be its own virtue, regardless of subject matter, and the post-apocalyptic genre has always stood proudly on the wobbly, irradiated shoulders of others.

“We’re obviously inspired by others and we wouldn’t even be the first post-apocalyptic game set in Colorado, but we have pretty unique sensibilities,” Meyers said of Wasteland 3. “It’s a very serious and dark world, but we put a unique twist on just about everything, and we really enjoy dark humor. You’re going to have brutal ethical decisions to make about life and death, but there’s a lot of humor throughout as well.”

Sounds familiar, doesn’t it?

Subscribe to our weekly newsletter, In The Know, to get entertainment news sent straight to your inbox.

from News And Updates https://www.denverpost.com/2020/09/02/apocalypse-here-why-colorado-is-such-a-popular-setting-for-humanitys-downfall/

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Foreclosure Lawyer Bountiful Utah

Bountiful is a city in Davis County, Utah, United States. As of the 2010 census, the city population was 42,552, a three percent increase over the 2000 figure of 41,301. The city grew rapidly during the suburb growth of the late 1940s, 1950s, and 1960s and was Davis County’s largest city until 1985 when it was surpassed by Layton. Bountiful is Utah’s 15th largest city. Although a part of the Ogden-Clearfield Metropolitan Statistical Area, it serves as a bedroom community to Salt Lake City and the surrounding area. However, due to the very narrow entrance into Salt Lake County, roads between the counties often reach near-gridlock traffic during rush hour. The Front Runner commuter rail has been running since April 2008, and the Legacy Parkway was opened on September 13, 2008. These were built to help alleviate the traffic load on Interstate 15 through the Bountiful area. Bountiful is a suburb of Salt Lake City with a population of 43,792. Bountiful is in Davis County and is one of the best places to live in Utah. Living in Bountiful offers residents a sparse suburban feel and most residents own their homes. In Bountiful there are a lot of parks. Many families and young professionals live in Bountiful and residents tend to be conservative. The public schools in Bountiful are highly rated. The median home value in Bountiful is $257,300, and the average rent is $917. The average household income is $65,716, and most people have at least an associates degree. There are so many things to do here and great people to see. Overall, it’s a good place to live.

Neighborhoods in Bountiful

Nowadays, when you move, you have to choose the city within the city. Each city has different neighborhoods and boroughs that are significantly different from one another. You need to choose which one attracts you the most. Making this choice is never easy, so we’d recommend walking through the neighborhood. If it is summer, this is more effective because the chances of neighbor interactions go up. What you want is the opportunity to get to know some of the people where you are thinking of living. You are not looking to discriminate. Instead, look for signs of the culture of the neighborhood. If you see many kids running from yard to yard playing, you’ll know that the children are free to roam. This is generally a good sign. If you see lots of boarded up windows, you’ll know that maybe you want to move somewhere else. Here are a few of the neighborhoods in Bountiful. • Val Verda Neighborhood • Bountiful Acres Neighborhood • Woodmere Neighborhood • North Hillsdale Neighborhood • Canyon Crest Neighborhood • Forest Park Neighborhood • Arcadia Neighborhood • Woodland Hills Estates Neighborhood • Mar Vista Neighborhood • Maple Hills Neighborhood • Star Heights Neighborhood • Oakcrest Neighborhood • Artistic Neighborhood • Packlynn Neighborhood • Alda Verda Neighborhood • Mountain Aire Neighborhood • Oak Haven Park Neighborhood • Church Heights Neighborhood • Moss Hill Neighborhood • Amby Briggs Neighborhood • Woodland Neighborhood

Bountiful Crime Rates

These are the skeletons in the closet of cities. It’s something nobody wants to know while they live in an area, but before they move in, they want to know everything there is to know. It’s a good thing to understand. Here are some of the most important facts about Bountiful. Bountiful has an A rating when it comes to crime (that means that there is comparatively little crime). In 2017 there was only 1 murder, 19 counts of rape, 2 robberies, 24 counts of assault, 83 burglaries, 602 thefts, and 59 vehicle thefts. Here, the overall crime rate is 37% less than the national average. It’s also safer than 67% of the cities in the United States. That’s pretty good. Crime isn’t the only thing to worry about in a city. It’s also a good idea to get a reading of the best ways to volunteer and get involved. Utah, in general, has many great ways to serve and give back to the community. Bountiful is no exception. There are so many ways to just help. Let me tell you, giving back is probably the most fulfilling thing there is to do.

Service Organizations: • Child and Family Services • Future Through Services • Operation Underground Railroad • Bountiful Library Volunteer Opportunities • Bountiful Public Works Volunteer Opportunities • Victim Assistance Center

Bountiful Schools & Stats

When moving, one of the most important things to consider is the school system. In many cases, the experience children have in elementary severely affects their perceptions about junior high and then high school. This then can affect the trajectory of their life. Of course schooling does not determine the success of an individual’s life, but choosing good schools that offer great opportunities can definitely help. Set up your children right. Put them on a bright path that leads to where they eventually want to go. Most schools try to paint themselves a good portrait. Most of the time, things are never as shiny as they appear on the outside. This is advice coming from the son of two educators who have taught for a collective twenty years. Choosing the right school matters. The school district that services Bountiful is the Davis County School district. It has a wide range of schools including: • 13 Elementary Schools • 6 Middle Schools • 2 High Schools

Bountiful Cost of Living

When you move somewhere, you always need to consider the cost of living. California is a very nice place to live, but the cost of living is larger than the national average. Nowhere, Oklahoma however is comparatively cheaper. Bountiful has a rate of 106 which is two lower than Salt Lake City. Considering both cities are so close, the former is probably a great option for people who need to commute into the big city for work but prefer the suburban life. Hopefully the discounted cost of living translates to more fun. Bountiful has an unemployment rate of 4% compared to the national average of 5%. That’s pretty good. The job growth rate predicted for the next 10 years is 41%, which is better than the nation’s average, 38%. Overall, the future looks promising. Things To Do in Bountiful, Utah One of the main reasons you move somewhere is because of the fun things to do there. Bountiful has many great attractions. It’s close to so many things, that you don’t need to worry if there is anything to do. Instead, just worry about being able to fit it all into your schedule. Do you like doing things in the mountains? Do you like doing things in the city? Well, if you live in Bountiful then you can do both. It’s close enough to Salt Lake City that you can go there every weekend. You can also go camping, boating or hiking every weekend. • Hale Center Theater • Alta Ski Resort • Davis Creek Trail • Adams Waterfall • Gateway Shopping Center • City Creek Shopping Center • Lagoon • South Davis Recreation Center • Centerpoint Legacy Theatre • The Jazz Basketball games Bountiful Attraction Resources • Trip Advisor List • List of Attractions • Yelp List • Group on List • Get Out Pass • Fun Things to do with Kids Bountiful Commuting & Public Transit Welcome to Bountiful, Utah. It’s a great place to live, but obviously you won’t spend 100% of the time in Bountiful alone. You will venture out into the wide world. You’ll probably work out of the town, and you’ll probably vacation out of town (although there is nothing wrong with a little stay-caution). If you will always be traveling and commuting, knowing the travel times is very important. Luckily, Bountiful is in a wonderful location. It is just north of Salt Lake and located right on the major highway. It has great access points and is in a very well-connected location. If you live here in Bountiful, you have nothing to worry about when it comes to getting where you need to.

Commuting Times • Time to Provo – 54 Minutes • Time to Lehi – 38 Minutes • Time to Orem – 50 Minutes • Time to Salt Lake City – 16 Minutes • Time to Sandy – 32 Minutes • Time to Ogden – 28 Minutes • Time to Logan – 1 Hour 9 Minutes • Time to St. George – 4 Hours and 23 Minutes Travel Time from Bountiful to the Attractions and National Parks • Time to Park City – 47 Minutes • Time to St. George – 4 Hours and 23 Minutes • Time to Bear Lake – 2 Hours and 2 Minutes • Time to Yellowstone – 4 Hours and 34 Minutes • Time to Zions National Park – 4 Hours 40 Minutes • Time to Arches National Park – 4 Hours 41 Minutes • Time to Canyonlands National Park – 4 Hours 55 Minutes • Time to Capitol Reef National Park – 3 Hours 33 Minutes • Time to Bryce Canyon National Park –4 Hours and 11 Minutes

Tips to Avoid Foreclosure in Bountiful Utah

If you fail to make your home mortgage payments, foreclosure may occur. Foreclosure is the legal means that your lender can use to repossess (take over) your home. When this happens, you must move out of your house. If your property is worth less than the total amount you owe on your mortgage loan, a deficiency judgment could be pursued. If that happens, you not only lose your home, you also would owe your lender an additional amount. Both foreclosures and deficiency judgments could seriously affect your ability to qualify for credit in the future. Below are some tips on avoiding foreclosure.

Don’t Ignore The Foreclosure

The further behind you become, the harder it will be to reinstate your loan and the more likely that you will lose your house. Contact Your Lender As Soon As You Realize That You Have A Problem. Lenders do not want your house. They have options to help borrowers through difficult financial times.

Open And Respond To All Mail From Your Lender

The first notices you receive will offer good information about foreclosure prevention options that can help you weather financial problems. Later mail may include important notice of pending legal action. Your failure to open the mail will not be an excuse in foreclosure court.

Know Your Mortgage Rights

Find your loan documents and read them so you know what your lender may do if you can’t make your payments. Learn about the foreclosure laws and timeframes in your state (as every state is different) by contacting the Understand Foreclosure Prevention Options. Valuable information about foreclosure prevention (also called loss mitigation) options can be found on the internet at http://www.fha.gov/foreclosure/index.cfm.

Contact A HUD-Approved Housing Counselor

The U.S. Department of Housing and Urban Development (HUD) funds free or very low cost housing counseling nationwide. Housing counselors can help you understand the law and your options, organize your finances and represent you in negotiations with your lender if you need this assistance. Find a HUD-approved housing counselor near you.

Prioritize Your Spending

After healthcare, keeping your house should be your first priority. Review your finances and see where you can cut spending in order to make your mortgage payment. Look for optional expenses-cable TV, memberships, entertainment-that you can eliminate. Delay payments on credit cards and other “unsecured” debt until you have paid your mortgage.

Do you have assets — a second car, jewelry, a whole life insurance policy — that you can sell for cash to help reinstate your loan? Can anyone in your household get an extra job to bring in additional income? Even if these efforts don’t significantly increase your available cash or your income, they demonstrate to your lender that you are willing to make sacrifices to keep your home.

You don’t need to pay fees for foreclosure prevention help — use that money to pay the mortgage instead. Many for-profit companies will contact you promising to negotiate with your lender. While these may be legitimate businesses, they will charge you a hefty fee (often two or three month’s mortgage payment) for information and services your lender or a HUD-approved housing counselor will provide free if you contact them.

If any firm claims they can stop your foreclosure immediately if you sign a document appointing them to act on your behalf, you may well be signing over the title to your property and becoming a renter in your own home! Never sign a legal document without reading and understanding all the terms and getting professional advice from an attorney, a trusted real estate professional, or a HUD-approved housing counselor.

Bountiful Utah Foreclosure Attorney

When you need legal help from a foreclosure lawyer, please call Ascent Law LLC for your free consultation (801) 676-5506. We want to help you.

Ascent Law LLC 8833 S. Redwood Road, Suite C West Jordan, Utah 84088 United States Telephone: (801) 676-5506

Ascent Law LLC

4.9 stars – based on 67 reviews

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The post Foreclosure Lawyer Bountiful Utah first appeared on Michael Anderson.

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Foreclosure Lawyer Bountiful Utah

Bountiful is a city in Davis County, Utah, United States. As of the 2010 census, the city population was 42,552, a three percent increase over the 2000 figure of 41,301. The city grew rapidly during the suburb growth of the late 1940s, 1950s, and 1960s and was Davis County’s largest city until 1985 when it was surpassed by Layton. Bountiful is Utah’s 15th largest city. Although a part of the Ogden-Clearfield Metropolitan Statistical Area, it serves as a bedroom community to Salt Lake City and the surrounding area. However, due to the very narrow entrance into Salt Lake County, roads between the counties often reach near-gridlock traffic during rush hour. The Front Runner commuter rail has been running since April 2008, and the Legacy Parkway was opened on September 13, 2008. These were built to help alleviate the traffic load on Interstate 15 through the Bountiful area. Bountiful is a suburb of Salt Lake City with a population of 43,792. Bountiful is in Davis County and is one of the best places to live in Utah. Living in Bountiful offers residents a sparse suburban feel and most residents own their homes. In Bountiful there are a lot of parks. Many families and young professionals live in Bountiful and residents tend to be conservative. The public schools in Bountiful are highly rated. The median home value in Bountiful is $257,300, and the average rent is $917. The average household income is $65,716, and most people have at least an associates degree. There are so many things to do here and great people to see. Overall, it’s a good place to live.

Neighborhoods in Bountiful

Nowadays, when you move, you have to choose the city within the city. Each city has different neighborhoods and boroughs that are significantly different from one another. You need to choose which one attracts you the most. Making this choice is never easy, so we’d recommend walking through the neighborhood. If it is summer, this is more effective because the chances of neighbor interactions go up. What you want is the opportunity to get to know some of the people where you are thinking of living. You are not looking to discriminate. Instead, look for signs of the culture of the neighborhood. If you see many kids running from yard to yard playing, you’ll know that the children are free to roam. This is generally a good sign. If you see lots of boarded up windows, you’ll know that maybe you want to move somewhere else. Here are a few of the neighborhoods in Bountiful. • Val Verda Neighborhood • Bountiful Acres Neighborhood • Woodmere Neighborhood • North Hillsdale Neighborhood • Canyon Crest Neighborhood • Forest Park Neighborhood • Arcadia Neighborhood • Woodland Hills Estates Neighborhood • Mar Vista Neighborhood • Maple Hills Neighborhood • Star Heights Neighborhood • Oakcrest Neighborhood • Artistic Neighborhood • Packlynn Neighborhood • Alda Verda Neighborhood • Mountain Aire Neighborhood • Oak Haven Park Neighborhood • Church Heights Neighborhood • Moss Hill Neighborhood • Amby Briggs Neighborhood • Woodland Neighborhood

Bountiful Crime Rates

These are the skeletons in the closet of cities. It’s something nobody wants to know while they live in an area, but before they move in, they want to know everything there is to know. It’s a good thing to understand. Here are some of the most important facts about Bountiful. Bountiful has an A rating when it comes to crime (that means that there is comparatively little crime). In 2017 there was only 1 murder, 19 counts of rape, 2 robberies, 24 counts of assault, 83 burglaries, 602 thefts, and 59 vehicle thefts. Here, the overall crime rate is 37% less than the national average. It’s also safer than 67% of the cities in the United States. That’s pretty good. Crime isn’t the only thing to worry about in a city. It’s also a good idea to get a reading of the best ways to volunteer and get involved. Utah, in general, has many great ways to serve and give back to the community. Bountiful is no exception. There are so many ways to just help. Let me tell you, giving back is probably the most fulfilling thing there is to do.

Service Organizations: • Child and Family Services • Future Through Services • Operation Underground Railroad • Bountiful Library Volunteer Opportunities • Bountiful Public Works Volunteer Opportunities • Victim Assistance Center

Bountiful Schools & Stats

When moving, one of the most important things to consider is the school system. In many cases, the experience children have in elementary severely affects their perceptions about junior high and then high school. This then can affect the trajectory of their life. Of course schooling does not determine the success of an individual’s life, but choosing good schools that offer great opportunities can definitely help. Set up your children right. Put them on a bright path that leads to where they eventually want to go. Most schools try to paint themselves a good portrait. Most of the time, things are never as shiny as they appear on the outside. This is advice coming from the son of two educators who have taught for a collective twenty years. Choosing the right school matters. The school district that services Bountiful is the Davis County School district. It has a wide range of schools including: • 13 Elementary Schools • 6 Middle Schools • 2 High Schools

Bountiful Cost of Living

When you move somewhere, you always need to consider the cost of living. California is a very nice place to live, but the cost of living is larger than the national average. Nowhere, Oklahoma however is comparatively cheaper. Bountiful has a rate of 106 which is two lower than Salt Lake City. Considering both cities are so close, the former is probably a great option for people who need to commute into the big city for work but prefer the suburban life. Hopefully the discounted cost of living translates to more fun. Bountiful has an unemployment rate of 4% compared to the national average of 5%. That’s pretty good. The job growth rate predicted for the next 10 years is 41%, which is better than the nation’s average, 38%. Overall, the future looks promising. Things To Do in Bountiful, Utah One of the main reasons you move somewhere is because of the fun things to do there. Bountiful has many great attractions. It’s close to so many things, that you don’t need to worry if there is anything to do. Instead, just worry about being able to fit it all into your schedule. Do you like doing things in the mountains? Do you like doing things in the city? Well, if you live in Bountiful then you can do both. It’s close enough to Salt Lake City that you can go there every weekend. You can also go camping, boating or hiking every weekend. • Hale Center Theater • Alta Ski Resort • Davis Creek Trail • Adams Waterfall • Gateway Shopping Center • City Creek Shopping Center • Lagoon • South Davis Recreation Center • Centerpoint Legacy Theatre • The Jazz Basketball games Bountiful Attraction Resources • Trip Advisor List • List of Attractions • Yelp List • Group on List • Get Out Pass • Fun Things to do with Kids Bountiful Commuting & Public Transit Welcome to Bountiful, Utah. It’s a great place to live, but obviously you won’t spend 100% of the time in Bountiful alone. You will venture out into the wide world. You’ll probably work out of the town, and you’ll probably vacation out of town (although there is nothing wrong with a little stay-caution). If you will always be traveling and commuting, knowing the travel times is very important. Luckily, Bountiful is in a wonderful location. It is just north of Salt Lake and located right on the major highway. It has great access points and is in a very well-connected location. If you live here in Bountiful, you have nothing to worry about when it comes to getting where you need to.

Commuting Times • Time to Provo – 54 Minutes • Time to Lehi – 38 Minutes • Time to Orem – 50 Minutes • Time to Salt Lake City – 16 Minutes • Time to Sandy – 32 Minutes • Time to Ogden – 28 Minutes • Time to Logan – 1 Hour 9 Minutes • Time to St. George – 4 Hours and 23 Minutes Travel Time from Bountiful to the Attractions and National Parks • Time to Park City – 47 Minutes • Time to St. George – 4 Hours and 23 Minutes • Time to Bear Lake – 2 Hours and 2 Minutes • Time to Yellowstone – 4 Hours and 34 Minutes • Time to Zions National Park – 4 Hours 40 Minutes • Time to Arches National Park – 4 Hours 41 Minutes • Time to Canyonlands National Park – 4 Hours 55 Minutes • Time to Capitol Reef National Park – 3 Hours 33 Minutes • Time to Bryce Canyon National Park –4 Hours and 11 Minutes

Tips to Avoid Foreclosure in Bountiful Utah

If you fail to make your home mortgage payments, foreclosure may occur. Foreclosure is the legal means that your lender can use to repossess (take over) your home. When this happens, you must move out of your house. If your property is worth less than the total amount you owe on your mortgage loan, a deficiency judgment could be pursued. If that happens, you not only lose your home, you also would owe your lender an additional amount. Both foreclosures and deficiency judgments could seriously affect your ability to qualify for credit in the future. Below are some tips on avoiding foreclosure.

Don’t Ignore The Foreclosure

The further behind you become, the harder it will be to reinstate your loan and the more likely that you will lose your house. Contact Your Lender As Soon As You Realize That You Have A Problem. Lenders do not want your house. They have options to help borrowers through difficult financial times.

Open And Respond To All Mail From Your Lender

The first notices you receive will offer good information about foreclosure prevention options that can help you weather financial problems. Later mail may include important notice of pending legal action. Your failure to open the mail will not be an excuse in foreclosure court.

Know Your Mortgage Rights

Find your loan documents and read them so you know what your lender may do if you can’t make your payments. Learn about the foreclosure laws and timeframes in your state (as every state is different) by contacting the Understand Foreclosure Prevention Options. Valuable information about foreclosure prevention (also called loss mitigation) options can be found on the internet at www.fha.gov/foreclosure/index.cfm.

Contact A HUD-Approved Housing Counselor

The U.S. Department of Housing and Urban Development (HUD) funds free or very low cost housing counseling nationwide. Housing counselors can help you understand the law and your options, organize your finances and represent you in negotiations with your lender if you need this assistance. Find a HUD-approved housing counselor near you.

Prioritize Your Spending

After healthcare, keeping your house should be your first priority. Review your finances and see where you can cut spending in order to make your mortgage payment. Look for optional expenses-cable TV, memberships, entertainment-that you can eliminate. Delay payments on credit cards and other “unsecured” debt until you have paid your mortgage.

Do you have assets — a second car, jewelry, a whole life insurance policy — that you can sell for cash to help reinstate your loan? Can anyone in your household get an extra job to bring in additional income? Even if these efforts don’t significantly increase your available cash or your income, they demonstrate to your lender that you are willing to make sacrifices to keep your home.

You don’t need to pay fees for foreclosure prevention help — use that money to pay the mortgage instead. Many for-profit companies will contact you promising to negotiate with your lender. While these may be legitimate businesses, they will charge you a hefty fee (often two or three month’s mortgage payment) for information and services your lender or a HUD-approved housing counselor will provide free if you contact them.

If any firm claims they can stop your foreclosure immediately if you sign a document appointing them to act on your behalf, you may well be signing over the title to your property and becoming a renter in your own home! Never sign a legal document without reading and understanding all the terms and getting professional advice from an attorney, a trusted real estate professional, or a HUD-approved housing counselor.

Bountiful Utah Foreclosure Attorney

When you need legal help from a foreclosure lawyer, please call Ascent Law LLC for your free consultation (801) 676-5506. We want to help you.

Ascent Law LLC 8833 S. Redwood Road, Suite C West Jordan, Utah 84088 United States Telephone: (801) 676-5506

Ascent Law LLC

4.9 stars – based on 67 reviews

Recent Posts

Utah Divorce Code 30-3-8

Utah Living Wills

Infidelity In Divorce

How To Close Your Sole Proprietorship Business

Child Custody Law

Utah Legal Services

The post Foreclosure Lawyer Bountiful Utah first appeared on Michael Anderson.

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Foreclosure Lawyer Bountiful Utah

Bountiful is a city in Davis County, Utah, United States. As of the 2010 census, the city population was 42,552, a three percent increase over the 2000 figure of 41,301. The city grew rapidly during the suburb growth of the late 1940s, 1950s, and 1960s and was Davis County’s largest city until 1985 when it was surpassed by Layton. Bountiful is Utah’s 15th largest city. Although a part of the Ogden-Clearfield Metropolitan Statistical Area, it serves as a bedroom community to Salt Lake City and the surrounding area. However, due to the very narrow entrance into Salt Lake County, roads between the counties often reach near-gridlock traffic during rush hour. The Front Runner commuter rail has been running since April 2008, and the Legacy Parkway was opened on September 13, 2008. These were built to help alleviate the traffic load on Interstate 15 through the Bountiful area. Bountiful is a suburb of Salt Lake City with a population of 43,792. Bountiful is in Davis County and is one of the best places to live in Utah. Living in Bountiful offers residents a sparse suburban feel and most residents own their homes. In Bountiful there are a lot of parks. Many families and young professionals live in Bountiful and residents tend to be conservative. The public schools in Bountiful are highly rated. The median home value in Bountiful is $257,300, and the average rent is $917. The average household income is $65,716, and most people have at least an associates degree. There are so many things to do here and great people to see. Overall, it’s a good place to live.

Neighborhoods in Bountiful

Nowadays, when you move, you have to choose the city within the city. Each city has different neighborhoods and boroughs that are significantly different from one another. You need to choose which one attracts you the most. Making this choice is never easy, so we’d recommend walking through the neighborhood. If it is summer, this is more effective because the chances of neighbor interactions go up. What you want is the opportunity to get to know some of the people where you are thinking of living. You are not looking to discriminate. Instead, look for signs of the culture of the neighborhood. If you see many kids running from yard to yard playing, you’ll know that the children are free to roam. This is generally a good sign. If you see lots of boarded up windows, you’ll know that maybe you want to move somewhere else. Here are a few of the neighborhoods in Bountiful. • Val Verda Neighborhood • Bountiful Acres Neighborhood • Woodmere Neighborhood • North Hillsdale Neighborhood • Canyon Crest Neighborhood • Forest Park Neighborhood • Arcadia Neighborhood • Woodland Hills Estates Neighborhood • Mar Vista Neighborhood • Maple Hills Neighborhood • Star Heights Neighborhood • Oakcrest Neighborhood • Artistic Neighborhood • Packlynn Neighborhood • Alda Verda Neighborhood • Mountain Aire Neighborhood • Oak Haven Park Neighborhood • Church Heights Neighborhood • Moss Hill Neighborhood • Amby Briggs Neighborhood • Woodland Neighborhood

Bountiful Crime Rates

These are the skeletons in the closet of cities. It’s something nobody wants to know while they live in an area, but before they move in, they want to know everything there is to know. It’s a good thing to understand. Here are some of the most important facts about Bountiful. Bountiful has an A rating when it comes to crime (that means that there is comparatively little crime). In 2017 there was only 1 murder, 19 counts of rape, 2 robberies, 24 counts of assault, 83 burglaries, 602 thefts, and 59 vehicle thefts. Here, the overall crime rate is 37% less than the national average. It’s also safer than 67% of the cities in the United States. That’s pretty good. Crime isn’t the only thing to worry about in a city. It’s also a good idea to get a reading of the best ways to volunteer and get involved. Utah, in general, has many great ways to serve and give back to the community. Bountiful is no exception. There are so many ways to just help. Let me tell you, giving back is probably the most fulfilling thing there is to do.

Service Organizations: • Child and Family Services • Future Through Services • Operation Underground Railroad • Bountiful Library Volunteer Opportunities • Bountiful Public Works Volunteer Opportunities • Victim Assistance Center

Bountiful Schools & Stats

When moving, one of the most important things to consider is the school system. In many cases, the experience children have in elementary severely affects their perceptions about junior high and then high school. This then can affect the trajectory of their life. Of course schooling does not determine the success of an individual’s life, but choosing good schools that offer great opportunities can definitely help. Set up your children right. Put them on a bright path that leads to where they eventually want to go. Most schools try to paint themselves a good portrait. Most of the time, things are never as shiny as they appear on the outside. This is advice coming from the son of two educators who have taught for a collective twenty years. Choosing the right school matters. The school district that services Bountiful is the Davis County School district. It has a wide range of schools including: • 13 Elementary Schools • 6 Middle Schools • 2 High Schools

Bountiful Cost of Living

When you move somewhere, you always need to consider the cost of living. California is a very nice place to live, but the cost of living is larger than the national average. Nowhere, Oklahoma however is comparatively cheaper. Bountiful has a rate of 106 which is two lower than Salt Lake City. Considering both cities are so close, the former is probably a great option for people who need to commute into the big city for work but prefer the suburban life. Hopefully the discounted cost of living translates to more fun. Bountiful has an unemployment rate of 4% compared to the national average of 5%. That’s pretty good. The job growth rate predicted for the next 10 years is 41%, which is better than the nation’s average, 38%. Overall, the future looks promising. Things To Do in Bountiful, Utah One of the main reasons you move somewhere is because of the fun things to do there. Bountiful has many great attractions. It’s close to so many things, that you don’t need to worry if there is anything to do. Instead, just worry about being able to fit it all into your schedule. Do you like doing things in the mountains? Do you like doing things in the city? Well, if you live in Bountiful then you can do both. It’s close enough to Salt Lake City that you can go there every weekend. You can also go camping, boating or hiking every weekend. • Hale Center Theater • Alta Ski Resort • Davis Creek Trail • Adams Waterfall • Gateway Shopping Center • City Creek Shopping Center • Lagoon • South Davis Recreation Center • Centerpoint Legacy Theatre • The Jazz Basketball games Bountiful Attraction Resources • Trip Advisor List • List of Attractions • Yelp List • Group on List • Get Out Pass • Fun Things to do with Kids Bountiful Commuting & Public Transit Welcome to Bountiful, Utah. It’s a great place to live, but obviously you won’t spend 100% of the time in Bountiful alone. You will venture out into the wide world. You’ll probably work out of the town, and you’ll probably vacation out of town (although there is nothing wrong with a little stay-caution). If you will always be traveling and commuting, knowing the travel times is very important. Luckily, Bountiful is in a wonderful location. It is just north of Salt Lake and located right on the major highway. It has great access points and is in a very well-connected location. If you live here in Bountiful, you have nothing to worry about when it comes to getting where you need to.

Commuting Times • Time to Provo – 54 Minutes • Time to Lehi – 38 Minutes • Time to Orem – 50 Minutes • Time to Salt Lake City – 16 Minutes • Time to Sandy – 32 Minutes • Time to Ogden – 28 Minutes • Time to Logan – 1 Hour 9 Minutes • Time to St. George – 4 Hours and 23 Minutes Travel Time from Bountiful to the Attractions and National Parks • Time to Park City – 47 Minutes • Time to St. George – 4 Hours and 23 Minutes • Time to Bear Lake – 2 Hours and 2 Minutes • Time to Yellowstone – 4 Hours and 34 Minutes • Time to Zions National Park – 4 Hours 40 Minutes • Time to Arches National Park – 4 Hours 41 Minutes • Time to Canyonlands National Park – 4 Hours 55 Minutes • Time to Capitol Reef National Park – 3 Hours 33 Minutes • Time to Bryce Canyon National Park –4 Hours and 11 Minutes

Tips to Avoid Foreclosure in Bountiful Utah

If you fail to make your home mortgage payments, foreclosure may occur. Foreclosure is the legal means that your lender can use to repossess (take over) your home. When this happens, you must move out of your house. If your property is worth less than the total amount you owe on your mortgage loan, a deficiency judgment could be pursued. If that happens, you not only lose your home, you also would owe your lender an additional amount. Both foreclosures and deficiency judgments could seriously affect your ability to qualify for credit in the future. Below are some tips on avoiding foreclosure.

Don’t Ignore The Foreclosure

The further behind you become, the harder it will be to reinstate your loan and the more likely that you will lose your house. Contact Your Lender As Soon As You Realize That You Have A Problem. Lenders do not want your house. They have options to help borrowers through difficult financial times.

Open And Respond To All Mail From Your Lender

The first notices you receive will offer good information about foreclosure prevention options that can help you weather financial problems. Later mail may include important notice of pending legal action. Your failure to open the mail will not be an excuse in foreclosure court.

Know Your Mortgage Rights

Find your loan documents and read them so you know what your lender may do if you can’t make your payments. Learn about the foreclosure laws and timeframes in your state (as every state is different) by contacting the Understand Foreclosure Prevention Options. Valuable information about foreclosure prevention (also called loss mitigation) options can be found on the internet at http://www.fha.gov/foreclosure/index.cfm.

Contact A HUD-Approved Housing Counselor

The U.S. Department of Housing and Urban Development (HUD) funds free or very low cost housing counseling nationwide. Housing counselors can help you understand the law and your options, organize your finances and represent you in negotiations with your lender if you need this assistance. Find a HUD-approved housing counselor near you.

Prioritize Your Spending

After healthcare, keeping your house should be your first priority. Review your finances and see where you can cut spending in order to make your mortgage payment. Look for optional expenses-cable TV, memberships, entertainment-that you can eliminate. Delay payments on credit cards and other “unsecured” debt until you have paid your mortgage.

Do you have assets — a second car, jewelry, a whole life insurance policy — that you can sell for cash to help reinstate your loan? Can anyone in your household get an extra job to bring in additional income? Even if these efforts don’t significantly increase your available cash or your income, they demonstrate to your lender that you are willing to make sacrifices to keep your home.

You don’t need to pay fees for foreclosure prevention help — use that money to pay the mortgage instead. Many for-profit companies will contact you promising to negotiate with your lender. While these may be legitimate businesses, they will charge you a hefty fee (often two or three month’s mortgage payment) for information and services your lender or a HUD-approved housing counselor will provide free if you contact them.

If any firm claims they can stop your foreclosure immediately if you sign a document appointing them to act on your behalf, you may well be signing over the title to your property and becoming a renter in your own home! Never sign a legal document without reading and understanding all the terms and getting professional advice from an attorney, a trusted real estate professional, or a HUD-approved housing counselor.

Bountiful Utah Foreclosure Attorney

When you need legal help from a foreclosure lawyer, please call Ascent Law LLC for your free consultation (801) 676-5506. We want to help you.

Ascent Law LLC 8833 S. Redwood Road, Suite C West Jordan, Utah 84088 United States Telephone: (801) 676-5506

Ascent Law LLC

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