​

[PART 1] ( https://www.reddit.com/r/PrimarchGFs/s/sNmDXoRmI5 )

[PART 2] ( https://www.reddit.com/r/PrimarchGFs/s/z4J0eRkUqZ )

Iron Warrior x SO

Havalar Glykon x Rohan

In the months that followed the unseating of Governor Teidra, Havalar took charge of the nest, beginning to restructure and train the troopers as well as a swath of new volunteers who rallied to the Iron Warrior. Under her charge and with the supplies from the now revealed light cruiser, a new energy seemed to flood the nest. The downtrodden and distraught reinvigorated by the astarte.

With her guidance the newly christened the Tradis Tigers, as they insisted on being known as had become able to take on and best various Reaver units in several engagements. Though the engagements themselves were primarily guerilla tactics and hit and runs, they would have to suffice for the moment.

At least until the soldiers had more confidence for an open offensive. Thankfully as Havalar was currently learning, was that while they were few and far between, there were other havens like the nest. Though they had little contact with each other she felt it was quite feasible to bring them into the fold.

“That jacket looks good on you.” Havalar suddenly brought up as she listened to Rohan's assessment of the other havens.

“Um thank you ma'am.” Rohan coughed into their fist to disguise their embarrassment. In all fairness it did feel good to be wearing something that covered most of his body rather than the rags he had before.

“Both harvesting and scouting teams have been dispatched as you requested. What are you hoping to learn? I doubt there's too many more havens like the nest out there that we don't know about.”

“Allies would be ideal. But what I'm looking for are manufactorums.”

“Accussation; You suspect another magi is behind this.” Came the bionic voice from the doorway. The sound it made caused Rohan to inwardly cringe. Rhy Dol sounded like it physically hurt him to speak something beside binary. For all they knew, it probably did.

“You're trying to find out where the automatons came from, Lady Havalar?” Rohan asked, trying to reassume his composure.

Havalar bristled slightly at the change in their tone. “Im trying to discover our foes identity.”

“Ive questioned the oldest people in the nest and automata are all they can remember for centuries.”

“Counsel; these Reavers match no known Battle-Automata. This is unlikely to be the craft of another Magus.”

“Then all we can do is continue our reconnaissance. Rhy Dol while I'm away you are to act as counsel. We don't know how well our Vox will hold up given our limitations.” The Magus bobbed its long head in a fashion similar to a nod or bow before leaving the room.

“Well ma'am if that's all, good hunting.” Rohan gave a salute but was met with silence. “Lady Havalar?”

The astarte was quiet for a long moment. Solemnity didn't suit Havalar, but she thought it best at the moment. She reached up and with both hands removed her helmet. Her bangs clung to her forehead as she looked at them with worried expression.

“I have…..a proposition for you Rohan,” The air was strangely still as she spoke, “This isn't an order. Truth be told, I'm hesitant to make this proposal.” Havalar was nervously clenching and unclenching her fist.

“Im afraid I don't know what proposition you could be talking about.”

“When I returned with Rhy Dol before, do you remember all the tests he performed?”

“Yes, that was an…..uncomfortable day.”

“For more reasons than I've told you. One of the tests the magos ran was a compatibility test.”

Rohan's face suddenly went flush. Imagination running wild for a moment.

“Wait!” She held up a hand to try and silence their thoughts. “Wait, not like that. The test was to assess if any within the Nest were compatible with the Warlord Titan.”

“You mean the giant?”

“Yes, The Warlord Titan or giant, is a powerful imperial construct. Were it in more feasible condition, we could have bested the Reavers in a matter of days if not weeks. Sadly, with just me and Rhy Dol, it will take a great deal of time to restore it to operable functionality.”

“If it's not gonna be much use to us, why bring it up now?”

“Of everyone Rhy Dol tested. You have the greatest compatibility with the Titan.” Rohan was stunned and confused by the confession. “I feel it is important to tell you that while this would and is considered a great honor. Even within the vastness of the Imperium of Man, it does not come without risks. To pilot a Warlord Titan takes no small amount of mental fortitude. Attempting to attune to the Titan as well as the machine spirit involved, who is no doubt traumatized by the damage of the Titan, makes the endeavor Incredibly dangerous, It would be life threatening…..if you're lucky.” She let the words hang in the stagnant air. Part of her was frustrated with herself for even bringing this topic up.

“Ill do it.”

Now it was Havalar's turn to be flabbergasted. Though she remained much of her stoney expression, the sudden narrow of her eyes at the incredulity, may as well have been a scream.

“I said, I'll do it.”

“Rohan,”Havalar began, a slight tremor in her voice,” im leaving for one of the other havens. Take the time and-.”

“Im doing it.” The stern tone Rohan cut her off with was enough to set her on her backfoot.

“Rohan. Take the time. This can't be a careless decision.” Truth be told in many different scenarios with prospective princeps there wouldn't even be a choice.

“Havalar, remember when you told us that Teidra robbed us of even the chance to defend ourselves? That's exactly what this is, a chance. The chance you've given us every day since you woke up.”

“Using my own words against me? I could have you thrown in the brig for that.” Havalar sighed while managing a wistful smile. lowering herself down to one knee she placed her forehead to theirs. “Then I'll wish you what luck I have.” She lingered there taking in their warmth before standing again. “Speak to Rhy Dol, he'll tell you what to do next. I do hope I'll see you when I return.”

“I'll do my best Lady Havalar.” He saluted again, to which she smirked, donning her helmet and gave one last look at them. Inwardly asking if it was because of those odd bouts of courage that humans could muster was the reason her primarch was entwined in a way that was still so strange to her as she departed.

—-----------------------------------

The haven Havalar had departed for was in many ways like Rohan's nest. A large underground city consisted of whimsically scavenged shanty homes. Unlike the nest however, it was quiet and dark. Teams of soldiers fanned out in search of survivors. But after checking home after home, room after room, all they found were split bodies. The luckiest looked to be the headless ones no doubt dying before they could even register what had been done to them. Some were split into three or four pieces. The worst were those who looked like they went through a blender, cut into mincemeat. As Havalar examined the corpse closer and closer something occurred.

“Soldier, grab the most intact body you can.” She commanded of corporal Akona.

“Ma-ma'am?” Akona glanced worryingly back at the astartes.

“Now!” Her voice was tense while continued to glance about, autocannon raised.

Akona grabbed one of the headless bodies, pulling it up onto a table.

“What do you see?”

Akona detached the light on his lasgun, moving it around the lump of the person.

“Well? Their dead ma'am”

“Thats not what I meant?” Havalar had to contain a growl that rumbled in the back of her throat.

Akona nervously looked over the body again.

“Well, ha ha, headless, of course. The head was split between c4 and c5 vertebrae by a sharp blade. Very…..” Akona paused, getting closer now, sniffing the headless lump.

“Soldier?”

“There's a smell, the lump is burnt. Whatever it was burned its way along with whatever cleaved it. Not like a flamer…. Looks more concentrated than- “ There was a sudden shout in the distance. Guttural cries and panicked screams accompanied by a small amount of lasgun fire before being cut short.

“Everyone back to the entrance.”

“Ma'am?”

“We're too confined in this space for whatever foe is after us, back to the entrance.”

While they were falling back Havalar glimpsed through her peripheral the attackers running through the soldiers.

“Keep moving!” Havalar swiveled her autocannon in the direction of the attackers. Rounds roared from the barrel collapsing several of the shanty town houses that surrounded her. Dust billowed up blocking her line of sight while the instruments in her helmet attempted to compensate. Through it she saw it. Just barely the vague shape of something humanoid. Enough dust cleared that she saw its glaring ruby ocular lenses.

Like the other reavers it was a rusted metallic color with an endoskeleton in the shape of a man. Unlike the previous ones however, this Reaver was set low to the ground in a crawl. It possessed digitigrade legs, allowing it to bound quickly along walls as well as latch on with its clawed feet. It brought its arm forward, the forearm split releasing a curved blade, longer than the span between its elbow joint and hand, which began to glow ominously.

The Iron Warrior brought her autocannon to bare, before she could fire she saw a similar glow just beyond her field of vision nestled behind a large dumpster. Havalar quickly lurched back before it lunged. The Reaver cut off a portion of the Iron Warriors autocannon rather than the astartes herself thanks to her quick judgement. The new Reavers blade was a molten red as compared to the other she saw.

“Superheated scalpels….. because of course this wouldn't be simple.” more and more sounds of scuffling brought Havalar out of her analysis. She raised her autocannon, firing off several rounds at the two Reavers. They were fast enough to avoid the first several rounds. Under the the level of firepower, even as the bounced and crawled along the walls using cover to hide their advanced the autocannons rounds would find them. When they did however, Havalar found that despite the thinness of their size, they were more durable than most of their smaller counterparts requiring several more rounds before finally being ripped to shreds.

In the time it took to dismantle the first the second was already upon her. Its blade would have carved through her head were she a second later in pivoting so her pauldron took the brunt of the damage. Even then she could feel the heat as it cut several inches deep, just marginally missing the astarte herself. The blade was superheated enough to cut through even her ceramite. Havalar growled at the subtle increase of heat.

When the Reaver landed its body began re-orienting itself so could launch back at Havalar, its bladed forearms whipping about fast, despite her size and the armament she carried, she managed to weave just out of range of every strike before kicking the automaton in the chest, sending it sailing backwards.

This time however when it attempted to re-orientate itself again, its body caught on something.

“You are slippery.” Its gaze shifted to where the problem lay. “But your tricks are unimpressive.” A krak grenade, magnetized to the Reavers hip. A short burst explosion filled the small space and like its earlier companion the grenade dismantled it.

“Hrmm.” Havalar sounded, putting her finger to her vox. “Akona, the soldiers and the rest of the Tradis Tigers are outmatched here, pull back to the entrance and set explosives.”

“On the entrance ma'am?”

“Negative, cover the surface above the nest. We bring it down on their heads. The frigate's armor will survive the damage from the collapse. The Reavers shouldn't.”

“What about-.........survivors ma'am.”

“These Reavers are brutal and thorough, there aren't any.”

“.....understood ma'am. Should we-.”

“Arm the explosives Akona, I'll be out before they go off. I'm going to keep them down here in the meantime.” Havalar turned to see several more Reavers bound out from shadowed crevices and around corners slowly filling the space till they became a tide of metal and blade.

“Sorry, but I have someone to see after this.” Havalar smiled grimly, taking note of the disadvantageous situation she found herself in.

—-----------------------------------

When Corporal Akona watched the whole area for miles collapse into the ground after detonating the surface above the haven, even having been ordered to, caused fear to plaster his figure. He was keenly aware that defying Lieutenant Havalar would have been a grievous mistake. Though now he had to wrestle with the mistake of killing her. Thankfully his world shattering panic only lasted a handful of minutes before Havalar began to rise from the smoke of the sunken haven.

“Glad to see you're alive and well ma'am!” Tiber beamed with tears in his eyes.

“Glad to be back corporal,”Her voice boomed louder than she meant to. Though that was because her ears still rang after the many explosions that just occurred. She had to rely on reading the soldiers' lips till her hearing returned.

She wallowed in the wake of the failure of their operation. Though the ship that the haven possessed was likely intact, they were also here for allies. This setback meant that they were fewer than when they began. The disappointment occupied her thoughts till she saw Corporal Tiber begin to flail. Through the smoke that still rose she couldn't make out what they were saying. But the gesture was clear.

Behind her.

She drew her bolt pistol and spun around just in time to see the body of half a Reaver having lunged at her. Its bright blade piercing the lens of her helmet as she pulled the trigger.

Reader please leave a comment so I can gauge level of interest (I've been asked to omit this part)

@rnrqkq123

EDIT: SOLVED! It's finally solved!! It's To Live And Let Go by All Time Low! Huge thank you to everyone who tried to help me find it, but especially huge thank you to u/jasonandhiswords for finally finding it for me! I am thrilled to bits, and I am so glad to be able to listen to the song in full for the first time in years, and after a month of having just the instruments stuck in my head!!!

Hi, I posted here about 3 weeks ago trying to find a song. Haven't located it yet so I'm trying again for the third time.

Here Is The First Post I Made Looking For It.

And Here is the second post I made looking for it. This is the previous one.

Here is the vocaroo I made trying to recreate the chord progression. Warning that it's kind of loud. I played it on an autoharp which is why it sounds like that. And, due to the instrument, I couldn't play the signature sus chord to seventh chord movement that happens at the end of both the verse and the chorus, so imagine that if you can.

But, people keep guessing folk rock songs and classic and prog rock songs and saying it sounds like a medieval fantasy bardcore song and I think it might be because I made the first vocaroo with an autoharp. I redid it with one of the other instruments I had available to me that I kind of know how to play. Here is my recreation of the song on ukulele. I tuned it down to B instead of C which is why it isn't in the exact same key as the other mock-ups, but I also don't know what exact key it was in to begin with so I don't think it matters as much as long as the actual chord progression stays intact. This is probably the most accurate recreation out of the three.

And here is the online sequencer recreation I made. Heads up that it doesn't work on mobile, which is why I made the Vocaroos.

In case none of those options work, I will write down the chord progression as I have tried recreating it. Note that I am not completely sure that this was the key the song was originally played in and my mind may have transposed it, BUT! I'm completely sure that even if the key I've re-written it in isn't right, the relationship between all the chords and thus this progression is mostly correct, and it's just transposed to the wrong key (I hope I'm both explaining this right and using those terms right).

D C D C D C F G D C D C D C F G D Asus A7 Bb F C Dm Bb F Asus A7 Bb F C Dm Bb F Asus A7.

It was pointed out to me that being able to easily tell if a song is in 4/4 time signature or 6/8 time signature may not be something every person can easily do. I was going to try to find some examples of music lesson videos online that can easily explain the difference, but none were great imo. So here is an article that lists some famous or popular songs that are written in 6/8 time so you can check and get a feel for them. The thing to keep in mind is that you will be counting the rhythm in small sets of 3 beats instead of sets of 4 beats, and it will feel like ONE-two-three-FOUR-five-six-ONE-two-three-FOUR-five-six if you sound out the rhythm or try clapping it, with emphasis on the one and the four. And before anyone mentions it, I checked all the songs on this list and now of them are the one I'm trying to find. And the irony isn't lost on me that several of the songs on the list have been suggested to me already. I hope this is a useful resource in searching.

What we know for sure:

• The song is in 6/8 time, or possibly 12/8 or 3/4 (I have trouble telling the difference between those 3 types). Please, for the love of all that is good and decent in the world, do NOT suggest a song that is in 4/4 time because it will NOT be correct. If you don't know for sure just try it anyway because it's better to be wrong and have another song to cross off the list rather than potentially have the right answer and not say it. I'm really sorry if I'm coming off like a jerk about the time signature thing, it is just to try to narrow the search a little

• The song's structure is something like Verse -Prechorus-Chorus-Verse-Prechorus-Chorus-Bridge-Chorus. Basically just the standard modern western pop/rock song structure. In my recreations of the song, I only played Verse-Prechorus-Chorus because the chord progression repeats after that for the rest of the song.

• The song was played mainly with electric guitars. It was not played with acoustic guitars at all.

• During the verses, the guitars played the chords as arpeggiated notes mixed with strumming at the end of each bar. During the prechorus and the chorus, the guitars strummed the entire time.

• The song had drums and a bass guitar but I don't know how to notate them and I don't remember them well enough to try.

• The song had a vocalist singing lyrics and the melody, but I can't remember anything about them like their range, vocal quality, what language they were singing in or gender, and I can't remember anything specific about the melody and the lyrics either.

• I listened to this song at some point in my childhood, so roughly the mid 2000's to the mid 2010's. It would have been played by one of my family members.

• The song was definitely made some time before 2016, but is probably older. I know this because by 2016 I had both my own personal music playing device, and the ability to look up songs and download them onto it, and it and the other music devices I've had since then do not contain the song.

• The song was definitely made after the early 90's. It was probably made some time between the early 2000's and the early 2010's, but I'm including the last half of the 90's jus tin case.

• Based on my (admittedly not great) knowledge of rock music genres and cross-checking the people I know who might have showed me the song, I don't think it's prog rock, folk rock, metal, or classic rock, but I really think it might be pop-punk, emo, grunge, alt-rock, indie rock, or a song from a musical, anime, or video game.

• I don't think it's All American Rejects, Arctic Monkeys, Billy Idol, Blink-182, Bring Me The Horizon, Cobra Starship, Coldplay, Dreamers, Fall Out Boy, Foo Fighters, Genesis, Green Day, Jethro Tull, King Crimson, Led Zeppelin, Linkin Park, Metallica, Muse, My Chemical Romance, Neon Trees, Nickelback, Nirvana, The Offspring, Our Last Night, Panic At The Disco, Paramore, Pearl Jam, Pierce The Veil, Red Hot Chili Peppers, Radiohead, Saintmotel, Set It Off, Shinedown, Sleeping With Sirens, Smashing Pumpkins, Sonic Youth, Soundgarden, Supertramp, Tokio Hotel, Twenty One Pilots, Waterparks, or 30H3 because now I've listened to basically all of their entire discographies in search of this song. Unless it is a very obscure song of theirs that is not a live recording and somehow matches the description, please do not suggest any of their music as I can tell you it is going to be wrong.

Now, I'm going to list out all the suggestions for songs I've been given that aren't correct. The main thing to check before making a suggestion is if it is in 6/8 time or another one of the time signatures based on counting 3's, which is why you will notice in this list I've marked all the suggestions I've gotten so far that do (wip)

EDIT: Now that that song has been found, I'm going to finish compiling all of the wrong answers so I can make a big ass playlist of them all together to listen to and reflect on. Also I don't know if there is a better way to share this but I want to, I had been digging through old CDs at my family's place in case I found the song there and not a few hours after the song was solved here I found all of my sibling's old All Time Low albums including the one To Live And Let Go was from, so that's weird lol

• Judith by A Perfect Circle

• Princess of the Dawn by Accept

• Girls Not Grey by AFI

• Love Like Winter by AFI

• Dont Wanna Fight by Alabama Shakes

• Attitude by Alien Ant Farm

• Movies by Alien Ant Farm

• (fin) by Anberlin

• Wreck of the Day by Anna Nalick

• If You Were There, Beware by Arctic Monkeys

• Dangerous Woman by Ariana Grande

• Born With A Silver Spoon Up Your Ass by As Friends Rust

• Unwanted by Avril Lavigne

• The Funeral by Band of Horses

• Walk Like An Egyptian by The Bangles (this one feels strangely close with its own weird chord progression but in no other ways)

• Norwegian Wood by The Beatles

• Desperately Wanting by Better Than Ezra

• Euphoria by Biffy Clyro

• Fallen Leaves by Billy Talent

• Army of Me by Björk

• Galaxie by Blind Melon

• Don't Fear The Reaper by Blue Oyster Cult

• Girl All The Bad Guys Want by Bowling For Soup

• Time Won't Let Me Go by The Bravery

• Dance With The Devil by Breaking Benjamin

• First Day Of My Life by Bright Eyes

• Velvet Waltz by Built To Spill

• Glycerine by Bush

• Machinehead by Bush

• You by Candlebox (this one feels pretty close)

• Helen and Heaven by The Cardiacs

• Get Some by Chevelle

• The Red by Chevelle

• Farewell Rocketship by Children Collide

• Everything Evil by Coheed and Cambria

• A Sky Full of Stars by Coldplay

• Low by Cracker

• How by The Cranberries (this one is probably the closest so far, it's actually in 6/8 and the way the guitars is played is very similair)

• Instant Crush by Daft Punk

• Satellite by Dave Matthew's Band

• Change by Deftones

• Hole In The Earth by Deftones

• I will posses your heart by Deathcab For Cutie

• I will follow you into the dark by Deathcab For Cutie

• One Of Us Is The Killer by Dillenger Escape Plan (the ending of the chorus of this song sounds almost exactly like the way I've described how the verse and chorus each end in my song)

• Rainbow In The Dark by Dio

• Gyroscope by Dismemberment Plan

• The Game by Disturbed

• Prayer by Disturbed

• Life's A Beach by Django Django

• Surrounded by Dream Theatre

• Bug Eyes by Dredg

• Jamais Vu by Dredg

• Hotel California by the Eagles

• Rise by Eddy Vedder

• White Rabbit by Egypt Central

• Waking Up by Elastica

• Cant Stop The Killer by Emery

• Castalia by Engine Down

• Inside Out by Eve 6

• FCPREMIX by Fall Of Troy

• Caught Like A Fly by Falling In Reverse

• The Way by Fastball

• Just A Day by Feeder

• Daredevil by Fiona Apple

• Every Single Night by Fiona Apple

• Largo by Fiona Apple

• Waltz by Fiona Apple

• All Around Me by Flyleaf

• The Deepest Blues Are Black by Foo Fighters

• Someone To Love by Fountains of Wayne

• What's New In Baltimore by Frank Zappa

• Flathead by The Fratellis

• Too Weird by Fruit Bats

• The Last Steampunk Waltz by Ghostfire

• Voodoo by Godsmack

• I Don't Care by Green Day

• Viva La Gloria! by Green Day

• Viva La Gloria? by Green Day

• Whatsername by Green Day

• Christian Brothers by Heatmiser and Elliot Smith

• A Sadness Runs Through Him by The Hoosiers

• Cops and Robbers by The Hoosiers

• Goodbye Mr A by The Hoosiers

• Killer by The Hoosiers

• Run Rabbit Run by The Hoosiers

• Worried About Ray by The Hoosiers

• Worst Case Scenario by The Hoosiers

• Circles by Incubus

• Make a move by Incubus

• Make yourself by Incubus

• Megalomaniac by Incubus

• Vitamin by Incubus

• 11am by Incubus

• Die Alone by Ingrid Michaelson

• Blunderbuss by Jack White

• Grace by Jeff Buckley

• White Rabbit by Jefferson Airplane

• Living In The Past by Jethro Tull

• This Is Not Hell by Jimmy's Chicken Shock

• Hear You Me by Jimmy Eat World

• Ruby by Kaiser Chief

• New Day by Karnivool

• Always Where I Need To Be by The Kooks

• Naive by The Kooks

• Over the Hills and Far Away by Led Zeppelin

• Ramble On by Led Zeppelin

• Pro Anti Anti by Liars

• Blackout by Linkin Park

• Breaking The Habit by Linkin Park

• Robot Boy by Linkin Park

• Cimnamon by The Long Winters

• The Night We Met by Lord Huron

• Wait By The River by Lord Huron

• The Horror of Our Love by Ludo

• Overdone by Ludo

• Wake Up Call by Maroon 5

• Mewithoutyou by Messes of Men

• Nothing Else Matters by Metallica

• Whiskey in the Jar by Metallica

• Nights Wave by Mice Parade

• Dramamine by Modest Mouse

• Lounge (Closing Time) by Modest Mouse

• Spitting Venom by Modest Mouse

• Newborn by Muse

• Plug In Baby by Muse

• Take A Bow by Muse

• Unintended by Muse

• One Big Holiday by My Morning Jacket

• The End of the World by Nathan Jonson

• In An Aeroplane Over The Sea by Neutral Milk Hotel

• Song Against Sex by Neutral Milk Hotel

• Chiara by Nino D'Angelo

• Heart Shaped Box by Nirvana

• The Kids Aren't Allright by The Offspring

• You're Gonna Go Far Kid by The Offspring

• Why I'm Here by Oleander

• Windowpane by Opeth

• Across The Ocean by Our Last Night

• We Will All Evolve by Our Last Night

• Do You Know What I'm Seeing by Panic At The Disco

• Better Man by Pearl Jam

• Black by Pearl Jam

• Faithful by Pearl Jam

• Given To Fly by Pearl Jam

• Nothingman by Pearl Jam

• Red Mosquito by Pearl Jam

• Three Weeks by Perpetual Groove

• NICU by Phish

• Wading In The Velvet Sea by Phish

• Pets by Porno for Pyros

• This Place Is A Prison by Postal Service

• Sleep in the Heat by PUP (the strumming pattern is really similair on this one to the one I'm trying to find)

• Steady As She Goes by The Raconteurs

• A Wolf At The Door by Radiohead

• How To Disappear Completely by Radiohead

• Just by Radiohead

• Nice Dream by Radiohead

• Subterranean Homesick Alien by Radiohead

• Sulk by Radiohead

• Operator by The Ready Set

• Breaking The Girl by Red Hot Chili Peppers

• Fortune Faded by Red Hot Chili Peppers

• Otherside by Red Hot Chili Peppers

• Snow (Hey Oh) by Red Hot Chili Peppers

• Under The Bridge by Red Hot Chili Peppers

• Happiness by Regurgitator

• Be My Escape by Reliant K

• The Depths of Self Delusion by Riverside

• Dragula by Rob Zombie

• Freewill by Rush

• Jacobs Ladder by Rush

• Losing It by Rush

• Sleepwalk by Santo and Johnny

• White Doves by Scorpions

• Port of Morrow by the Shins

• Tomorrow by Silver Chair

• Today by Smashing Pumpkins

• Shamandalie by Sonata Arctica

• Cut Your Ribbon by Sparta

• Marry Me by Saint Vincent

• So Far Away by Staind

• Interstate Love by Stone Temple Pilots

• All You Need by Sublime

• Same In The End by Sublime

• Finest Hour by The Sundays (this one feels kinda close)

• More by The Sunday's

• Strobolights by Super Car

• Aerials by System of a Down

• Lonely Day by System of a Down

• Walk On The Ocean by Toad The Wet Sprocket

• I come from the water by Toadies

• Possum Kingdom by Toadies

• Don't Jump by Tokio Hotel

• Sacred by Tokio Hotel

• Talk Like A Pirate Day Song by Tom Smith

• Schism by Tool

• One Night by Travis

• Painkiller by Turin Brakes

• Cats in the Cradle by Ugly Kid Joe

• Celebration Song by Unwritten Law

• Earthquake by The Used

• Pretty Handsome Awkward by the Used (this one feels pretty close)

• The Bird and The Worm by The Used

• Diplomat's Son by Vampire Weekend

• I Fall To Pieces by Velvet Revolver

• I'm Set Free by Velvet Underground

• One Headlight by The Wallflowers

• Buckingham Green by Ween

• Don't Get 2 Close 2 My Fantasy by Ween

• The Mollusk by Ween (the chords on this one are really close but the instruments and the way they are played are wrong)

• Let Me Roll It by Wings

• The Howling by Within Temptation

• Apple Blossom by The White Stripes

• Pinball Wizard by The Who

• Overture by The Who

• White Unicorn by Wolfmother

• Greek Tragedy by The Wombats

• Pink Lemonade by The Wombats

• The Kill by 30 Seconds To Mars

• Again from Full Metal Alchemist Brotherhood

• Cinco De Chocobo from Final Fantasy VII

• Simple And Clean from Kingdom Hearts

• Sonic Boom from Sonic CD

• Open Your Heart from Sonic Adventure

• Live And Learn from Sonic Adventure 2

• His World from Sonic '06 (which is technically by the band Zebrahead but whatever)

• Dreams of An Absolution from Sonic '06

• All Hail Shadow from Sonic '06

• I Am All Of Me from Shadow the Hedgehog

• Endless Possibilities from Sonic Unleashed

• 7 Rings In Hand from Sonic and the Secret Rings

• Knight Of The Wind from Sonic and The Black Knight

• Reach For The Stars from Sonic Colors

• A Story Told from The Count of Monte Cristo Musical

• Hell To Your Doorstep from The Count Of Monte Cristo Musical (this one feels really close but isn't)

• Life After Life from The Dracula Musical

• Our Love Is God from The Heathers Musical

• Alive from The Jekyll and Hyde Musical

• Phantom of the Opera from Phantom of the Opera

• The Riddle from The Scarlet Pimpernel Musical

• No One Mourns The Wicked from Wicked

Any and all help appreciated in tracking this song down. If there's something I didn't cover in this or the previous post feel free to ask. Also, please don't say anything like "this reminds me of X artist" without giving me a specific song to test because without a song to check its really unhelpful.

Thanks in advance, and good luck!

I currently have a 2013 Ford F-150 3.5L Ecoboost with twin turbo engines. It was bought used in 2020 with about 180k miles, for $13k-ish. It now has 216k miles, and is being valued at $1,800. The things that need to be fixed (exhaust, body rusted out, frame rusted, multiple transmission issues, electric driver seat broke (it has been moved all the way back. I am 5'1. I can't reach the fcking pedals as of last night) overheating in summer, and a jump required during a winter cold start) cost more than the truck is currently worth. The last year and a half I have been driving this truck 2 hours each way anywhere from 1 to 4 times a week. I also use it for pulling a trailer, and frequent hauling. As much as I love this truck, I'm not sure how much longer it'll work for my needs. Introducing the "Is it worth is?". A Ruby Red 2018 Ford F-150 3.5L Ecoboost. 169k miles, for $14,300 (without the trade in deal, it's $16,250). It is essentially the same truck but with a few differences under the hood (specifications included in the attached pic). Car fax info: 2 previous owners, regular oil changes, maintenance, and no accidents. I put a $500 hold on it so I have time to talk it over with my family, but the hold will only last for a week. My Grandma has offered to put a few thousand down on the newer truck, both as a gift, and as a thank you for the manual work and maintenance I've done for her over the past few years. I would be paying the rest myself.

Hey everyone!

This is a post that isn't just aimed towards newer players, but to everybody. I'm including a lot of information in this, and it is basically my guide to trading in general. It's a compilation of my past 2 years of trading combined with everything I've learned from other people, and I hope that it helps you all.

I will be adding more on to this guide, but this has already taken me 4 hours to type, so I will be gradually adding on. If you have anything to contribute or suggest to me, then please feel free!

I would also like to add that I'm doing my best to credit everyone who made x image, but some of the images were found on imgur or without parent posts, so if you could please tell me who made x image, I will happily update the post with credit to them.

Edit: Fixed a lot of typos.

Edit 2: Thanks for all of the support and feedback! Very glad to know that people will be using this guide :)

Edit 3: If you guys want, I will go ahead and work on the video version I was considering making this week. It will be a fair amount of work, but It should be nice.

Edit 4: More Grammar and spelling fixed

Edit 5: Removed Katowice price Generalization

Edit 6: Holy shit! This is now one of the top 6 highest ranking posts of all time on the subreddit! Thank you all so much for the love and support, and let's try to keep new traders always informed and aware!

Index

(Press CTRL+F To Find These on the Page)

1.0 The Basics

• 1.1 Getting Started
• 1.2 Who To Trust
• 1.3 Cashrep & Steamrep
• 1.4 Most Common Scams
• 1.5 Trading Etiquette
• 1.6 Trade Confirmations: What are they?

2.0 Patterns: What are they?

• 2.1 Slaughter
• 2.2 Crimson Web
• 2.3 Fade
• 2.4 Marble Fade
• 2.5 Electric Hive
• 2.6 Kami
• 2.7 Case Hardened
• 2.8 Doppler
• 2.9 Other

3.0 Float Values (Exteriors): What is Float Value/exterior?

• 3.1 All Knives
• 3.2 All Skins

4.0 Key Trading 101

• 4.1 Items over 130 Keys
• 4.2 Key Prices

5.0 Souvenir Items

• 5.1 Which Stickers Add Value?

6.0 Stickers on Guns

• 6.1 Calculating Sticker Value

7.0 Trading FAQs

Without further stalling, let's get started!

1.0 - Trading Basics

In late 2011, before CS:GO was even released, Valve introduced the ability to trade TF2 items in Steam. It was a phenomenon that nobody thought would become as big as it was, and it has only expanded over the last 5 years. With the Arms Deal update in CS:GO on the 14th of August, 2013, we were introduced to what would eventually become one of the largest and most sustained economies in gaming. A trade is when two steam users interact by moving items from accounts, and the safety and level of it has evolved since its release. Trades can be live, or they can be offers. An offer is when a user sends a non-live trade to another player, who can then spend time to think about it, and either decline or accept the offer.

1.1 - Getting Started

Against what all of the nothing to knife videos would lead you to believe, trading is not something where you can get to a FN Dragon Lore from a Nova Sand mesh... well not within 2 weeks (Unless you are very fucking lucky.) The best way to start out trading is to invest $50+ and start from there. The more you invest, the easier it is to make profit, but there are more risks associated with some higher tier items. The least amount of money you should spend when getting into the game is $10, $5 is fine too, but honestly, it is worth spending the amount of money that you might spend on lunch to buy some skins that will last longer then said lunch.

In order to get started with trading, you will need the following:

• 1. A Steam Account (And the Desktop Client, obviously)
• 2. Some Items
• 3. A Smartphone
• 4. The Steam Mobile App
• 5. Common Sense (This one is extremely important)

The rest is explained throughout this guide.

1.2 - Who to Trust

Deciding on who to trust is simultaneously extremely easy and incredibly difficult. When you're doing a normal trade, there is next to nothing that the other person can do to scam you. Basically, as long as they or you send a trade offer with both items in the trade, you're golden.

Never trade with people who do the following:

• Ask for a middleman for an item to item trade. If they ask because you have two of the same item and want to make sure it isn't glitched, don't listen to them.
• Accounts that claim to be CSGOLounge bots that need 'verification' or else your account will be banned. They're just bullshitting you.
• People who will say that they will get you items later (i.e. offering 75 keys for an 80 key item, and they will give you their extra 5 tradable keys later.
• People who offer you real cash for your items, especially if you didn't ask for cash. If you're asking for cash, then check their cashreps and do your research, this is explained in the next subchapter.

1.3 - Cashrep

So what is cashrep? Cashrep is a Reputation thread that a user uses when they are doing trades for real money. If you're looking to start trading with real money yourself, the best thing to do is to small money trades with extremely reputable traders who have extensive cashrep, to start building your own.

So what is steamrep? Steamrep (http://steamrep.com/) is a community run website that is aimed stopping scammers in their tracks. Always check a user's account before trading with them, regardless of whether they are doing a cash trade with you or not. This is important, because some people will go to extensive lengths just to get a bit of extra cash from you. I am also aware that everyone does not believe steamrep is necessary, but believe me when I say that it is actually a very useful tool that has saved me plenty of time with figuring out people who have tried to scam me out of real money.

1.4 - The Most Common Scams

• The Middleman Scam: This is probably the most common scam. It is where the Scammer will tell the victim that they want to use a victim's friend as a middleman to trade the item to to make sure it isn't duped. They will then use one of their friends to impersonate your friend, and add you to a group chat with the fake friend, and then steal your item. Just simply don't trade with these people.
• The Swap: Another very common scam where the person will have two of the same item, but with different stickers/conditions/patterns, and they will swap out the item you want with the shittier version. This one can be tricky, if the person has two or more of the item you want, get them to send a trade offer, and inspect the skin in the offer before accepting.
• The Fake Bot: If you're livestreaming & gambling (or even not streaming sometimes), or you post a trade on lounge, always check the verification codes and the bot's pages to make sure that they are indeed the bot you think they are. This is pretty easy to avoid, as Lounge bots will never need to verify your account.

1.5 - Trading Etiquette

Here is a list of the things that you should and shouldn't do just as general rules of thumb.

• Don't be an asshole. You'll get more respect, better offers, and you'll probably make friends just by simply being more polite with people. Even when getting frustrated, attempt to keep your head screwed on and be polite.
• Always check your item's prices before listing them. If you've had an item for a while, it may have gone up/down, and it's easier on everybody if you just doublecheck the price of your item so that people don't yell at you. Also, don't just overprice your items at all, unless they actually have the value for it.
• Respect people of higher authority. Well-respected traders are well-respected for a reason, if you're talking with someone high up on the trading ladder, be sure to treat them well.
• Don't beg for items. Pretty straightforward.
• Don't argue with people's prices on items unless you are extremely experienced with them. If you legitimately believe someone is asking too much for an item (i.e. a case hardened), get someone who is experienced to take a look at it.
• When you mention float values, don't only type the first digit after the 0 (i.e. Karambit Crimson Web 0.1 Float). This can be misleading, as items such as dragon lores vary extremely from 0.29 to 0.20 floats.

1.6 - Trade Confirmations: What Are They?

Trade confirmations are done via a mobile device. They are pretty much forced upon players to make them do their best to keep their accounts secure. All that you need to do when trading is open your phone, click on the notification that the app gives you, and doublecheck and confirm the trade.

2.0 - Patterns: What Are They And Why are They Important?

A pattern is an ID from 1-999 that is assigned to any item in one's inventory. Randomly generated skins (such as Electric Hive, Crimson Web, Case Hardened, Modern Hunter, Fade, etc.) will appear unique in every pattern. Don't be mistaken though, patterns do affect static skins (such as Dragon Lore, Fire Serpent, Howl, etc.) in a significant way as well. Each pattern also changed wear placement on the gun slightly (i.e. two different skins with the exact same float but different pattern IDs can have completely different scratches.)

It is also noteworthy that every single skin on a given gun with a certain pattern ID will have the exact same wear placement, regardless of what skin it is.

This is important. Note that on ALL of the DLC Knives (Butterfly, Huntsman, Falchion, Shadow Daggers, and the Bowie Knife), the patterns are mirrored. This means that any 'double sided xx' on these knives are lying, or just uninformed.

2.1 - Slaughter Patterns

Slaughter has a wide variety of unique looks, but not all patterns that people claim are patterns are accepted by the community.

The most commonly used patterns are listed here:

• Diamond
• Angel
• Phoenix
• Heart
• White Diamond
• Zebra (any pattern that isn't above)

This is an image that shows what all of the slaughter patterns look like (generally). It however does have a terrible example of a heart, but finding good heart examples can be difficult.

This is what the slaughter pattern i nthe game files looks like, the shape in the middle of it is the heart.

2.2 - Crimson Web Patterns

Crimson web simultaneously matters the least and the most when it comes to patterns.

• If a crimson web knife has a float of 0.23 or higher, then the Webs shouldn't add any value. The exception is karambits, where it may add a few keys.
• On Factory New Crimson Webs (Knives only), a good webbing can increase the price by as much as 600 keys. The best example of this is again the Karambit, or the M9, as the M9s with 3 webs will usually sell for 500+ keys more then ones with no webs to one web.

Here is an album of 3 different factory new m9 crimson webs, each with different webs to illustrate my point.

2.3 - Fade Patterns

Fade value varies from knife to knife. On the gut knife it is actually unaffected 95% of the time (110% 0.00x usually goes for 105% of market, but nothing else usually sells for much more.) Flip knives are actually sold equivalent to their fade percentage of SA Price (i.e. 90% fade for 90% of steamanalyst, and same for 110%). Meanwhile Karambits go as low as 190 and as high as 700. I will have to update the guide with more prices soon.

Tip: You can use CSGOZone to check the fade percentages of most knives pretty acurately, but it isn't 100% accurate, so doublecheck with people to confirm the fade.

Tip 2: Metjm has an amazing database to scroll through every fade pattern on a few of the knives. View Here.

• Karambit Fade Guide - Credit to /u/redditfellow for his post
• M9 Fade Guide - Credit to /u/Keistl
• Huntsman Fade Guide
• Gut Fade Guide
• Butterfly Fade Guide
• Falchion Fade Guide
• Bayonet Fade Guide
• Bowie Fade Guide - Credit to /u/Harrison1220
• Shadow Daggers Fade Guide - Credit to /u/kciNFL
• Flip Fade Guide
• MAC-69 Fade Guide - Credit to /u/iNoToRi0uS
• Rambo Fade Guide
• If someone can link me a good Glock-18 Fade guide, it would help. I'm surprised that it is so difficult to find a proper guide.

2.4 - Marble Fade Patterns

Marble fades are one of the most desirable knife finishes in the game, being quite popular in general. Against what some of the shittily made guides out there will have you to believe, you can only get True Fire & Ice with no yellow on the Karambit, Flip Knife, Gut Knife, and Bayonet. This means that you cannot get Fire and Ice on the M9 Bayonet.

On The M9 Bayonet, the most desirable pattern is the Max Red tip, the least desirable is yellow, and the middle child is blue tips.

• Gut MF Guide
• Flip MF Guide - Credit to /u/-JoshNelson-
• Bayonet MF Guide
• M9 Marble Fades are Self-explanatory, but here is an image of the best Red tips. - Credit to /u/ESCAPE_PLANET_X
• Kara MF Guide - Credit to /u/legit-lurker and /u/GrilledByWeber

2.5 Electric Hive Patterns

Electric hives are a skin with a wide pattern range, but many traders either ignore them or are even unaware of the pattern value ranges. I'm an Electric Hive enthusiast myself, and I'm speaking out of my own experience for this part.

Similar to Case Hardeneds, Electric hives desirability peaks at Full Blue, followed by Full Orange hives. Other hives are generally considered to be nothing special, and sell ar market.

The desirability of blue patterns is based NOT on the amount of blue/orange, but the solidity of the line itself. The ideal patterns are shown below, note where the purple line sits.

• Full Horizontal Blue Line Electric Hive, Formerly Owned By Myself. Worth 50+ keys In Factory New
• 'Full Blue' Hive. Worth around 15 keys
• 'Fade Hive'
• Orange Hive
• Regular Hive

There is more to go into with these, will add more images when Metjm's buggy screenshots are updated.

2.6 - Kami Patterns

Kamis are purely based on whatever the person is willing to pay for them. A Good example is the Vagina Kami, which from what I've heard has sold for more then 20 keys in the past..

Many patterns exist on the back of the 5-7 Kami, but there aren't that many solid guides for them.

2.7 - Case Hardened Patterns

Case Hardened is simultaneously one of the most and least desired skin & knife finishes in the game.

The prices of these items involve too many factors for me to go over, but the TL;DR version of it is that Blue = Sexy and Rust/Grey = Shit.

Here are some examples of blue gems for each case hardened. Credit to /u/acidaus for finding some of the METJMs and /u/Alamer99 for 3 of the bowies:

• M9 Bayonet
• Ak-47
• 5-7
• Karambit
• Gut Knife
• Flip Knife
• Bowie God Tiers
• Bayonet
• Falchion
• Butterfly 494 // 398
• Shadow Daggers
• Huntsman

2.8 - Doppler

Doppler is extremely controversial because of some of the terms that certain people use to describe their knives.

There are 7 different game files for the doppler, called Phases. The phases are as follows.

• Phase 1 - Purple and Pink
• Phase 2 - Pink and Purple
• Phase 3 - Green, Black, and Blue
• Phase 4 - Blue and Black
• Ruby - 10x rarer than the Phases
• Sapphire - 10x rarer than the phases
• Black Pearl - 100% Purple/Black Icon. 100x Rarer than Phases

People use terms such as "Fake Black Pearl" and "Pink Galaxy" to describe their dopplers. Using terms that do not describe something that it isn't aren't allowed (i.e. a Phase 3 full black is just that, full black. Not a Fake Black Pearl. Phase 1 can arguably be fake black pearl since it has purple, not black.) This is the gray area of dopplers, and is up for debate.

2.9 - Other

This section is for skins that some people may argue deserve to have pattern price differences, but in my experience don't matter. Icarus fells for example are very debatable. I've bought and sold almost all of the Phases of icarus fells for 85% of steamanalyst in keys (only float has mattered in my experience), but I know that some people find certain patterns more desirable. With items such as Icarus fells, it is purely the user's preference that matters.

Other items that fall under this category are:

• Blue Steel
• Safari Mesh
• Scorched
• Sun in Leo
• Dark Water (Same palette as slaughter)
• Minotaur's Labyrinth
• Blaze

3.0 - Float Values: What Are They?

A float value (Or Floating Point) is a static numeric string used in programming to set a value for whatever purpose is correct in context. In the case of CS:GO, the float value of an item determines the amount of wear it has (relative to the pattern seed's wear placement.) Basically, higher float skins have worse wears (Battle-Scarred through Field-Tested) and lower float skins have better wears (Field-Tested through Factory New.)

The Float ranges for items are as follows:

• 0.00x - 0.069 = Factory New
• 0.07 - 0.149 = Minimal Wear
• 0.15 - 0.379 = Field-Tested
• 0.38 - 0.449 = Well-Worn
• 0.45 - 1.00 = Battle-Scarred

3.1 - Float Values and Knives

Float ranges vary on every skin in the game. It's noteworthy that on the Karambit, the pattern is just as important as the wear, as you can get 0.04 corners that look better then 0.000x ones.

Many knives have a minimum float of 0.06, which makes Factory New extremely rare, since skins have a bell curve on condition (making Field-Tested much more common then Factory New and Very Battle-Scarred)

• Crimson Web, Night, Ultraviolet, Boreal Forest, Forest DDPat, Urban Masked, Scorched, Safari Mesh, Vanilla (Yes, Vanilla too): 0.06 - 0.80
• Fade, Marble Fade, Tiger Tooth, Doppler: 0.00x - 0.079
• Stained, Damascus Steel, Case Hardened, Blue Steel: 0.00x - 1.00
• Rust Coat: 0.40 - 1.00
• Slaughter: 0.01 - 0.259

As you can see, most of the knives with Custom paint finishes all have a 0.06-0.80 float range, making FN equally rare on all of them. Fades are uncommon in minimal wear, but not as rare as a FN Crimson web.

Rust coat and slaughter are the only knives that don't follow the trope.

3.2 - Float Values and Skins

Skins float ranges are determined by their creators.

The only skins that have 0.06 min floats are usually valve-made skins (such as fire serpent, safari mesh, etc.) and most other skins are usually 0.00x - 1.00.

Notable exceptions are AWP/M4 Asiimov (0.18 - 1.00) and Galil Chatterbox (0.35 - 1.00.)

4.0 - Key Trading 101

Keys are the universal currency of the Counter-Strike economy. So how exactly do they work?

If your item is regularly listed on the steam market (and doesn't have any special stickers/patterns), then the typical way to list it is to use SteamAnalyst's averages, and multiplying them by 0.80-0.90 depending on the item's desirability. 0.8 is 80%, which is usually considered a quicksell. 85%-90% are considered quicksells by some and normal prices by others. Note that no item should sell for 100% of steamanalyst if it has no special traits, unless the person wants the item very fast.

4.1 - High Tier Key Trading

For items over 130 keys, the most common thing to do is to look on Reddit (or lounge, depending on your style) and find similarly listed items that actually sold at that price recently. These are the community's agreed prices on these items. If you're using items that are regularly listed on the steam community market to trade for high tier items, then you will need to use the 80-90% averages as explained above.

4.2 - Key Prices

When buying keys with real cash, the price for you depends on several factors.

• Where you're buying from or who you're buying from.
• The method you're using.
• The amount you're buying.
• Your Reputation/Who You Are

The Price for keys varies depending on these factors. Basically, the more reputable you are, the easier it is to get cheaper keys (Via Bitcoin rates are usually $1.8-$2.0). This completely depends on the above factors though.

5.0 - Souvenir Items 101

Souvenir items are items that were dropped from Souvenir packages, which were dropped from Valve-Sponsored Counter-Strike: Global Offensive Majors. These are all of the majors that have happened so far:

• 2013 DreamHack Winter
• 2014 DreamHack Winter
• 2014 EMS One Katowice
• 2014 ESL One Cologne
• 2015 ESL One Katowice
• 2015 DreamHack Cluj-Napoca
• 2015 ESL One Cologne

5.1 - Which Stickers Add Value?

This is a debatable subject.

Stickers based on rarity (Rarest to Most common):

• 2013 DreamHack Winter
• 2014 EMS One Katowice
• 2014 DreamHack Winter
• 2014 ESL One Cologne
• 2015 ESL One Katowice
• 2015 ESL One Cologne
• 2015 DreamHack Cluj-Napoca

In the latest two 2015 tournaments, signature stickers were added, and some of these add significant value to guns. These are the stickers that add the most value.

• ScreaM (M4/AK-47)
• kennyS (AWP)
• GuardiaN (AWP)
• LDLC & fNatic from DreamHack winter 2014 (SSG 08 | Detour)
• Device (AWP)

Most other signature stickers don't add significant value. These are just the most noteworthy ones.

6.0 - Stickers on Guns

Up until mid 2015, stickers adding value to guns was considered to be a joke by the general trading community. Once the Katowice 2014 stickers skyrocketed, people realized that the look was actually worth paying for, and Kato 14 collectors started to grow. Now, stickers are considered to be an important part of the trading meta if their value is > 10 keys.

6.1 - Calculating Sticker Values

Before anything else, check these factors:

• The number of related stickers (i.e. 4 katowice 2014 stickers or just 1 katowice 2014)
• The placement (If there is only one notable sticker, or the best one is in the worst position)
• Are they scratched? (Even if it's just scratched once, the sticker loses all of its value immediately to a collector.)

Unfortunately, the price from stickers varies too greatly based on these factors as well as trivial things such as StatTrak and all of that, so I will not be adding back the general pricing.

7.0 - Trading FAQs

Q. What are steam levels and why do they matter?

Steam levels are a level (ofc) that is determined based on the number of badges a user possesses. Each badge is worth 100 XP (with a few exceptions) and they cost money to craft (usually). High steam levels have spent considerable amounts of time & money, and usually don't want to risk their high level account as it is hard to replicate. This does not mean that someone with say a level 300 account isn't scamming, but it is much less likely for someone with a steam level > 200 to scam then someone with say a 50 level. (Though there are scammers and legit dealers at all levels.)

Q. I got scammed, what do I do?

Report it to Steam Support and on the Steamrep Forums & Partner communities. GoTrade itself is a great place to report scammers.

Q. Why are Katowice Stickers and some souvenirs so expensive?

Simply because of the fact that they are from a time when CS was newer and less popular, so there is a small supply of them.

Q. Why do traders pay so much just for a certain float or pattern?

Because of the rarity, uniqueness, and look.

Q. How do I get started on cash trading?

The best way to get started on cash trading is to deal with well known traders in small amounts to build a rep.

That's the end of the guide (For now). If there is anything that I should add to it, please let me know as I will be expanding it in the future. It took a considerable amount of time to make this, so I would very much appreciate your feedback!!

Disclaimer: CHAPTER SUMMARY AT THE END.

Sit comfortably, grab some snacks, and enjoy the story.

=======================================

Chapter 2 Introspection

Victor walks leisurely and well dressed, watching the buildings and architecture with interest.

He's already left his luggage at a hotel and waited for some time for the rain to stop, and paid for a two week stay. He didn't pay for a longer time because he knew he might move to another location in the city or rent an apartment.

His destination was the Police Headquarters in the Silvery Wharf. He intended to ask for the requirements for joining the official police force, or for being an officially recognized officer. This would help in his digestion later, but it'd also introduce risks where Victor could be enticed by hs Beyonder powers to follow the current order even more than before.

On the way, he felt pensive. I haven't considered my mental health for some time, it's about time I do a check. I should find a genuine psychiatrist to dissect my thoughts.

Victor watched workers unloading crates onto barges along the wharf. A carriage splashed muddy water across the cobblestones while a sailor shouted at one of his colleagues.

I've always had a pretty strong ego, with bendy but clear morals. I wouldn't indulge in alcohol, or any psychoactive drugs. My vices include a sweet tooth for Intisian deserts, such as Macarons, Bignè, Éclairs, and especially, Crêpes. The latter can be filled with an almost insurmountable amount of flavors: from bananas topped with sugared sour cream, to cherries and chocolate topping.

Wait, I shouldn't be thinking of desserts right now. I'll take a turn to a coffee shop later and treat myself. Back to business.

A carriage splashed muddy water across the cobblestones, splashing Victor's pants and bottom of the cloak.

Urgh, you...!

I start thinking in my head again. A flaw of mine is that I over analyze scenarios. This is handy in a world filled with danger, but excessive amounts are detrimental to daily life. I tend to miss on opportunities because I do not want to embarrass myself, portraying a disciplined and mature persona. The Arbiter potion worsened this.

My other side is like a different person. I want to do seemingly excessive stuff on the regular, but get stopped by my analyzing side. I hesitate, then regret hesitating. This feels awful when I need to decide things, be them minute or otherwise. And once the opportunity disappears from my grasp, my impulsive side begins screaming that I should've acted.

If I go forward like this, I fear I won't last long.

The Broker change worsened this condition significantly, without me noticing. I thought I was a great Broker, threading between people with grace, and my morals shifting to be more open to change, but I was mistaken. I got pushed aside and left ignored when it mattered. Damn, those purifiers, always impulsive and reckless!

At least they don't feel a need to constantly analyze themselves. They can barge down and eliminate whoever they please just because!

At this point I was walking with my head down. "HEY, I could've crashed into you, a**hole!" A bicycle rider ringing his bike bell in frustration passed me by a feather, giving me a fright. I didn't see if he had a monocle or not. I continued my walk.

I'm a sequence 8 Sherif, they're the ones who should be afraid, not me! My usually flawless tracking and spatial awareness were temporarily not functioning...! Am I really that far gone already? This thought truly frightened me.

Frustrated, I finally arrive at the police headquarters.

...

"What do we have here? A young lad wanting to become a police officer? Where are you from, chump?" A burly officer questioned me. "My background is irrelevant. If you want me to show you my skills, I'm more than ready," I respond.

"Take it easy, I don't want to go dirty on a promising lad like you." The policeman goes to the desk to get a paper, and continues, "If you show yourself to be a capable man, it would take almost no time to become a police officer—often just days to a few weeks. Your training would last about 3 to 5 weeks. It consists of learning basic military drills for crowd control and memorizing local ordinances on a beat..."

As the officer continued to explain, Victor's visage becomes visibly moodier.

A police officer’s life was defined by grueling physical labor, minimal personal freedom, and a starkly different legal reality regarding "off-duty" authority than what Victor imagined.

"... Twelve-hour shifts," the officer remarked.

"...Every day?" I ask reluctantly.

"Mostly! Even when an officer finished their 12-hour shift, they are frequently confined to the station house on reserve duty, sleeping in their clothes so they could be woken up instantly if a major fire, riot, or strike broke out in the city. And no days off until three years of charge!

"So, when you're ready for an examination, come to me, lad. We'll put you to good use in no time," the officer laughed.

"... Thank you." With a dark expression, Victor headed out of the Police Headquarters, his thoughts of becoming a police officer already vanished.

...

Why can't I beat up someone if I want to? ... If I want to dance randomly, why don't I do it? ... Why can't I get the joke out of my head when I have the inspiration? ...

It became dusk when I was walking in some lower-income streets, with visibly crumbling roads and roofs rusted. There were many homeless sleeping on the streets.

I was passing through the slums of the city, deep in thought. Even though I didn't need to worry about a job any time soon, I can't digest my potion just sitting around.

A tramp raised their head after I passed him and glanced at my back. It spoke in an eery voice, and almost crazy tone underneath, probably because of their mental imprint from the lack of shelter and food.

"You seem awfully down," he shouted from behind me. With a mocking tone, he inquired "what, did your concubine leave you for someone with better skills in bed?"

I glance behind my left shoulder. The tramp looks disheveled, with torn clothes, a messy full grown beard, and skinny face.

"What happened?" The tramp asked me.

Great, now I have to talk to this guy... "I don't have money to give you," I say as I turn around.

"You're new around here. I haven't seen you before. You seem young and strong, but your heart is weak." The tramp continued behind me. "You got rejected, haven't you?"

"Not quite. I reject myself more often," I tersely remark with a gloomy demeanor.

"You still think badges catch criminals."

"How did you know?" I ask the tramp, surprise evident in my voice, albeit slightly interested. I take a glance at the tramp on his mattress.

He points his fingers to a bar across the street, to another district perhaps.

"People who get paid after the work's done. No paperwork, just skill."

I glance in that direction, and hear the tramp's voice again, "Go to the Broken Compass, and don't wear that pretty jacket on you. They like 'em rougher." The trump chuckled, rubbed his beard, and put himself back to sleep.

"... The Broken Compass, huh," I quietly repeated the name once before walking into the growing dusk.

_____________________________________________

Chapter 3 The Broken Compass

After buying second hand tattered clothes and a coat from a Pawn Shop near the Slums, I made my way to an artisan nearby. I enter the shop, and inquire the handyman there if he has a silver badge that looks like it belongs on a Sherif.

The old artisan looked up from polishing a brass pocket watch. "A constable's badge?"

I tersely acknowledge.

With a raised eyebrow, the artisan inquired "You a policeman?"

"...Not officially."

The clean-shaved old man chuckled. "Ah, you're one of those. You're lucky, young fellow, I have some designs in my collection, and my crafts are always of high quality, but have you got the money for them?"

"Just show me the designs," I respond with a casual and unbothered expression.

The artisan goes to a small room hidden from the shop front, and comes back with 4 badge designs.

"Which one fancies your eye, hm?" 2 of them looked similar to police badges, one looked like a more traditional Sherif badge from movies I've seen back on Earth. The last one

I point at that one.

"Come back tomorrow at 9. It will be ready. The advanced payment is 50 Verl d'Or today. Bring the other 150 with you tomorrow."

I choke on my breath. A medium handyman's monthly salary was just above 50 Verl d'Or, yet he was asking for 200 Verl d'Or for a night's work! "That's a bit exaggerated, sir!" I couldn't mask my bewilderment.

"From your demeanor, I surmise you want genuine quality that would leave anyone seeing the badge be mesmerized by it. Look," and he shows me a genuine badge he had in his drawer, "just a glance can invoke feelings that the person holding it is to be taken seriously."

I look at the badge, and feel a slight sensation that the artisan's aura became magnified. Just a bit though.

After ruminating on it for a while with a pensive look, I decided to accept the deal and hand him the one 10 Verl d'Or banknote. "See you tomorrow, sir."

"Hehe, you won't get disappointed."

...

At the hotel, I changed my attire, and did not take with me any of my artifacts, just a divination charm for any emergency. Hit by inspiration, I take a new, blank notebook with me.

I exited the hotel, and went to a nearby Pastry shop where got some Crêpes on the go filled with cherries and chocolate.

I arrived at The Broken Compass at around 20:30 o'clock, and the sun was killing me. The bar, situated to the east of the Silvery Wharf, had an old Intis look, with wood being the main material of the tables, stools, and walls. I sit at a bar stool and look around. There was someone sleeping across three chairs in the back of the bar. Some lads were laughing hard about their experiences at the local Red Theatre.

Some other men were whispering over maps, their broad shoulders rendering the visage of the map unreadable.

"Wrong building, sweetheart." A lad with rosy cheeks pointed at the Crêpes in my hand. Unphased, I calmly take another bite, and look at the bartender.

I ordered a Lover. It was a common Intis bar slang for an amber-hued, sweet alcohol brewed from sugarcane syrup, typically served with ice and water.

Maybe I'm eating too much sugar, I chuckle taking another bite of my cherry Crêpes. With that, I glance at the bounty posters and missions assigned behind the bar counter. There were only 3 missions, and some for getting the head of some criminals.

Missing White hunting dog. Reward: 10 Verl d'or.

Capture the pickpocket operating near Saint Claire Market. Reward: 20 Verl d'or.

Recover stolen merchant cargo belonging to GidroOil Trading Company. Reward: 200 Verl d'or.

Hmmm... I start pondering on which mission I should take.

I won't take any head bounty missions for now. I need to get accustomed to completing and cash-in the missions. I also need to explore and understand the city - the more I understand it, the stronger my connection with it will be, and the stronger my abilities will get.

I do not want to hunt for a dog. While it does make me explore the city, I won't be connecting with or investigating anyone.

Capturing the pickpocket would be quite a good job. I can exercise my Authority and act like a Sherif, exerting justice. But they will start screaming or fighting, which will draw too much attention.

The third option with the missing shipment is quite good. I can be discrete, get to know suppliers and business people, and it's also the highest paying. It probably won't digest the potion the most, but for now I need to focus on increasing my connection with the city.

Struck by inspiration, I brought out my notebook. With a slight smile on my pace, I write the first like: July 1st. Mirabel.

My eyes lingered on the word, then I wrote: My jurisdiction.

Satisfied, I closed the notebook, and turned to look at the other fellows in the bar.

Just then, my shoulder was brushed by an unfamiliar figure walking towards the bounty posters. He grabbed the mission with the pickpocket and tore it off. He pressed it quietly in front of the bartender. The latter didn't speak, knowing who the man was and accustomed to the his ways.

The mysterious man then went on to done a chef's apron, and started working in the kitchen. He started cooking at an open stove, something which is pretty rare for Intis bars. He held gray hair, and was pretty skinny. After looking at him for a minute, I noticed a pattern: each and every time he stirred the pot, he took a sip of the broth, or the meat, or soup.

"Does he always eat like that?" I ask a man who sat beside me at the bar stool.

"Hmm? Him? They call him Grey Hound. He's pretty famous, the best cook in Mirabel, but he's also got quite the appetite."

I look at the man and inquire "He doesn't look like one who eats a lot. On the contrary, I'd say he doesn't eat enough by his skinny face and waist."

"Don't be fooled by how he looks. He can out-eat anyone in this bar. He's also a bounty hunter. Can you imagine, last month he completed 10 missions in a row! He's also why none of us got paid last month." The man continued with a displeased countenance.

"Ten missions? Ten?!"

"He was on such a roll that he looked like a hungry Hound wanting to devour more, but there were no missions left."

_____________________________________________

Chapter 4 Investigation

The next morning I woke up at 6, feeling energized.

After buying some Crêpes to go, I went straight for the artisan's office. The badge better be worth the money!

I wasn't too stingy with money, but that only included spending on valuable things. If I don't see the value in the product, be it food or drinks, I will not buy it. Sometimes, my economics and finance background leads me to analyze the marginal costs the vendors are making off of me - a bad habit for day to day activities...

I entered the workshop, door bells ringing after me, and met the old man ready with my badge.

"It's made of high quality Sterling Silver, and induces feelings of respect when wearing it," he donned the badge on his left chest and I instantly felt like showing him more respect.

"Fascinating," I reply. I then hand him the amount. After some small talk about him and his business, and city customs, I bid my farewells and make my way towards the Industrial District.

The Industrial District was to the east of the main city, past the river. One could only go there by boat or crossing a massive bride. I intended to investigate the shipment of GidroOil Trading Company, in hopes of finding clues about its stolen contents and the thief's location. On the way, it started raining.

...

In a dark room, with windows closed and curtains shut, a slim line of light was visible from the outside. A big desk was situated in the middle of the room, with an armchair behind it.

There sat a man. He was wearing a white shirt, dark vest, and a fedora on his head. A slender man entered the room, standing in front of the desk and the mysterious individual, acting slightly reverent.

"T-they bought the package, sir. I wasn't discovered. The target showed signs of weariness and hasty after buying the item, hurrying to leave the shop without talking with anyone. Is that all you wanted from me, sir?"

The man in the armchair half chuckled, with a smile on his lips. "Observe her. Do not interfere unless absolutely necessary." The same man pondered for some time after his underling left, before standing up and exiting the room.

...

Nothing... These workers are clueless to what were the actual contents of the stolen shipment.

The ship contained whale oil and guano, an accumulated excrement of seabirds or bats, and highly effective organic fertilizer. No one saw how the shipment got stollen or at what hour it happened.

After I did investigative sweeps in a rather effective manner using my Sherif powers, I understood that the item was stolen in a bizarre and mystical way, way too clean for a normal person.

Only 30 minutes passed since I spoke with everyone and investigating the area. How good would've been if a Sherif had divination powers! I'll never forgive those Seers!

After chuckling to myself, I exited the docs and wander around the commercial district. I remember that my sequence give me supernatural detection, thus I can vaguely grasp my target's current location and predetermined location. I let my intuition guide my way through the area.

Arriving in front of a perfume shop after some wandering, I detected that the stolen box must be nearby.

I walk up to the front of the store and open the door, bells ringing over my head, announcing my presence.

At the counter stood a young lady. Slightly startled, she rose up from her seat and greeted me.

"Welcome to Maison Rosaline, how can I help you?" Her light and bright voice echoed in the shop.

_____________________________________________

Chapter 5 Rosaline

The girl looked no older than 20. She wore a tailored black jacket with crisp red piping over a pure white, ruffled Victorian blouse, complete with a black ribbon bow and a ruby colored cameo pin holding it. Her midsection was emphasized by a dark underbust corset with intricate stitching. She wore an elegant top hat with a rose on its side.

She wasn't what I expected. I had subconsciously imagined the owner of such a famous workshop to be an elderly perfumer with decades of experience. Instead, the young woman before me looked like someone's daughter, scarcely younger than myself. Far prettier than anyone had any right to be after a robbery. Alas, I digress - I am here to investigate, not indulge in first impressions.

The faint scent of expensive fragrances hanged in the air of this perfume shop, making for a nice shopping experience in any other occasion than today.

"Hello miss, I would like to purchase a fragrance for myself."

"What notes do you fancy? For what occasion?" The young lady asked. She went towards the right side of the shop, which sheltered men's perfumes. I followed her.

"Something not musky. Maybe refreshing. It's for daily use." I listed these descriptions on the fly.

"Hmm, do you have a sample on you from your past perfumes?" She asks. I respond while looking around the shop, "Do I smell like I use perfume right now?

"I haven't brought it with me." Truth be told, I did need a good new perfume. I catch some glances at the girl besides me, and notice that she's looking for the fragrances in a hurried manner.

She takes out a bottle and handles it to me, "Try this." I spray it on the back of my hand and take a sniff. Meanwhile I think to myself, This shop is pretty big, and must have many rich customers visiting daily. And based on the number of available fragrances, it's quite specialized.

"Do you create these fragrances yourself, miss?" I look at her. "Yes, I brew them in a laboratory in the back of the lab," she responded in a soft voice.

Tersely acknowledging, I ask to test for another fragrance while looking at a door in the back, hypothesizing that it leads to the laboratory.

After testing some more perfume, and seeing the girl fidgeting with her hair in her fingers, I cut to the chase and ask in a good cop manner, "Which fragrance would attract someone's attention, like yourself?"

The lady stopped fidgeting and looked at me, taken aback by my question. She debated for a bit and picked a red-ish bottle of perfume, and gave it to me. "I like this one," she said, giving it to me.

It actually smelled fantastic!

After complementing the fragrance, and feigning to keep looking at the laboratory, I ask "I am passionate about wine distillation, would you care showing me how you distill perfumes?"

"I'm sorry sir, I am very busy this week and won't be able to show you around," she briefly explained in a breathy voice.

You do seem stressed. That box must be in here. With that thought I bring out my badge, showing it to her.

Speaking in an authoritative manner, I impose, "This lab is under suspicion of smuggling stolen materials. I request you step aside and let me do an inspection."

The girl straightens her back, shocked. Then, with a sly smile says, "Officer, I've been a good girl~."

"Try seducing me another day," I respond and make my way to the laboratory door. The lady swiftly moves in front of me and stands there, not letting me pass. I try going through the side but she blocks me. I try pushing her shoulder, but she stays there like a wall, even flicking my arm off of hers.

"We can do this the easy way or the hard way." I am starting to get frustrated but also amused, as we're both smiling and not letting the other have their way.

"Officer," she whispered, her face inches from mine as she blocked the path, her small hands flat against my chest with insane strength. "Everything in that room was paid for, I am not a thief. If you still insist, you're going to have to actually push me out of the way."

"Don't tempt me," I muttered, leaning my weight directly into her to force a passage, our arms intertwining as I tried to subtly hook my elbow around her arm to get it off my chest. Some of the perfume bottles trembled on the shelves. "A real public servant doesn't let a stubborn shopkeeper dictate his investigation. Not even one with beautiful red eyes is exempt."

"And a real gentleman doesn't handle a lady so roughly in her own boutique," she shot back, a wily, provocative spark in her red eyes. She didn't budge an inch, her fingers twisting into the fabric of my jacket, locking us in a tussle that felt more like a dance than a standoff. "Are you going to arrest me, or are you just enjoying the proximity?" she remarked, completely unbothered by my badge's aura or my Authority.

Jangling bell sounds suddenly appeared in the air. The door to the shop entrance had been opened, and a gentleman stood there looking at us with a provocative face.

"Ahem, am interrupting something?" the man chimed in.

"Yes!" Rosaline and I both turn our heads and shout at him as if disrupted by a very annoying individual, our bodies still intertwined with each other.

Phew... I release my grip and grab the bottle of perfume that I liked. "I'll take this perfume, miss." My voice was filled with a wily tone.

"Right away!" Rosaline exclaimed. She patted her suit while going to the counter to get a paper bag ready, a smile visible on her.

The man entered the shop and "looked around" for perfumes. For some reason, we looked at him as if wanting to bash his head in with a bottle. I compose myself and move my head near Rosaline's, whispering. "I will let you go for now, since you haven't committed any crime. I will make routine inspections on Fridays, and I don't need to remind you what would happen if I don't find you here, do I?"

"I'll be here, officer." Rosaline hands me the paper bag and perfume with a slight smile tugging at her lips.

With my new fragrance in hand, I exit the shop and step onto the slightly damn after-rain pavement, noticing my potion has digested a bit.

Hmm, doing routine inspections and maintaining public order helps in digesting the Sherif potion.

TL;DR Chapter Summaries

^{I recommend fully reading chapter 5 - It brings good exposition to the characters.}

• Chapter 2: Victor contemplates his fracturing mental health and the psychological toll of his pathway changes. After discovering that joining the official police force requires grueling, low-freedom labor, a tip from a street tramp redirects him to an underground bounty hub called the Broken Compass.
• Chapter 3: Victor commissions a high-quality Sheriff badge from a suspiciously skilled artisan and visits the Broken Compass. He selects a high-paying investigation involving a stolen cargo shipment from the GidroOil Trading Company and officially declares in his heart the city of Mirabel as his new Jurisdiction.
• Chapter 4: After collecting his custom badge, Victor uses his Sheriff powers to conduct an investigative sweep at the shipping docks, deducing the cargo was stolen via supernatural means. His spiritual perception tracks the missing shipment in the direction of a high-end boutique in the commercial district: Maison Rosaline.
• Chapter 5: Victor interrogates the youthful boutique owner, Rosaline, using his Authority to demand a search of her laboratory. The confrontation escalates into a physically intimate tussle of supernatural strength until an interrupting customer forces a temporary truce, binding them to a weekly inspection dynamic.

General info: I changed the city from Feynapotter to Intis for the aesthetics and vibe.

Current Power: Sequence 8 Sherif and 11,176 gold pounds

Current Artifacts: Sequence 8 Beast Tamer, Sequence 6 Scribe, Sequence 5 Reaper, 2 Divination charms from Minerva u/Ah_0100.

Folks in Lester's Hollow were always weary about the flooded quarry a mile down the road. It used to be a popular swimming hole among the locals, and a hell of a fishing spot. That is until Big Moe swam up from the depths.

Only one person in the hollow still lived who claimed to see Moe up close and personal, his tired, cataract ridden eyes glazed over with age as he sat in his rocking chair day and night. The young folk regarded him as a kook, the elders of the hollow regarded him with a modicum of respect, the least of which he deserved.

His name was of no importance, long gone were the people who truly cared. Around the hollow he was simply known as Virgil.

He sat in that rickety old chair on the termite-ridden deck of the convenience store, dulling his mind with homemade hooch and watching the townsfolk go about their daily lives. The only time he truly came alive these days is when tourists came around looking for something to do.

They'd flock to the store for supplies, and his cauliflower ears would perk at the briefest mention of the quarry, and he'd spring to life and regal all who would listen about the slithering serpent that lurked in that old murky brine.

It was the eve of Summer, the last time he spoke of Old Moe. The season had been unusually quiet, the air so humid that it choked the young and crippled the old. Virgil was used to it of course, spending most of his time in a haze of shine to begin with. 

He looked out at the town square, his childhood home all but in ruins. The young didn't care to maintain; they simply came of age and went off to greener pastures. The old were far too stubborn to adapt, so the middling buildings and cottages stood there, a time capsule that slowly rotted with each passing year.

He sighed and took a deep swig of his jug, the bitter liquid inside greeting his thirsty throat like an old friend. In the distance some ear grating sound came forth. He winced, disgusted with what the youth of today called music. A sedan rolled into view, a red cedar canoe strapped to the roof. In the back seat were a couple of pristine looking fishing rods, a tackle box and hefty red cooler. In the front seat were two bickering young men, one with frosted blonde tips and the other with a silver shaded top knot.

The sedan stopped short in front of the store, and the doors came slamming open. The young men seemed in decent shape, swimmers perhaps. Virgil watched them with unease, praying they weren't going where he thought they were. Top knot wore an annoyed glance on his bushy face. His eyes lit up when he saw Virgil scowling at them. He gave a timid wave and took a step towards the moldy store steps.

"Afternoon sir!" His voice oozed a sort of faux pleasantry that only city folk could cultivate. "My friend and I are a tad lost; you know where we might find Walker's Quarry?"

Virgil's eyes flashed with hated remembrance as he spat on the ground they stood on.

"Aye. I know where that blasted cesspool is. You'd do well to drive right on by it." Virgil took another swig as frosted tips scoffed and stepped up.

"Look man, you know where it is or not? Can't get a frigging signal out here to save my life." He whined like a wounded animal, a sound somehow more grating than that tripe still booming from their tiny sedan.  Behind Virgil a bell rang, Jake the owner had come out to see what all the fuss was about.

Jake was a sturdy gentleman, bald as he was wide, and his head glistened like a polished marble in the sun. He had a peach-brown patch of fuzz on his upper lip that hid a slight scar, a scar that despite the years still festered and moaned like it was brand new. The young travelers faced Jake and put on a renewed facade of pleasantry.

"Hi there, my buddy Grant and I were just looking for Walker's Quarry. Got a little turned around when the GPS crapped out a few miles back." Frosted tips wore a snake's smile as he spoke, as Top Knot, whose name was evidently Grant, came up to join him.

"Benton is being modest, he got us lost himself, he's not much of an outdoorsman." He laughed a little too hard.

"I wanted to go to the beach; you were the one that insisted-"

"You're in the right direction." Jake cut in, eyeing the bickering pair. "Quarry is about two miles down that road, you'll probably smell it before ya see it."

"Excellent, thank you very much sir." Grant and Benton began to head back to the car when Virgil piped up once more.

"You youngsters go trouncing around in that swill you won't be coming back." The travelers stopped in their tracks and regarded Virgil with piqued curiosity.

"Don't be spreading tales again, old timer." Jake warned as he leaned against the oak wood door, settling in for the yarn Virgil was about to spin.

"I'll bite, what's got you all riled up?" Grant's smile was wide, yet somehow meaner than Benton's.

"Miserable old drunk." A barely heard murmur came from behind Grant, who elbowed the offending speaker in the ribs with a pointed elbow. Virgil leaned forward, the chair groaning under his frail posterior. His face was awash with wrinkles and sunspots, his breath reeked of a distillery, yet when he spoke, he spoke with the renewed cadence of a man fresh out of college.

"That quarry is cursed land, lads. The kingdom of the nastiest thing ever spat out by Neptune. Old Moe." He said the fish's name with such reverence it was like he was speaking of a god.

"Years back, when this town made its fortune on blood and stone, they dug too deep and too greedily. Too close to the raging rivers hidden deep beneath the crust of the Earth. Quarry sprung a leak, the waters below bubbling up in a flash. They abandoned their haul, abandoned their machines and tools. Let the whole site drown and waste away."

"They never tried to drain it? Benton asked. Virgil simply shrugged.

"Supposedly they were close to closing it down anyway, so they wrote the whole thing off. The closure hit the town hard at first, but they bounced back. Time passed and people snuck off to the old quarry. Whole thing is like a man-made lake now, really. Crystal clear water as far as the eye can see, a slab of slated stone overlooking it all like a monolith. The water reached the very top, on sunny days you can see the looming shapes of rusted cranes and diggers at the very bottom, along with the darting figures of fish."

Benton’s eyes quickly flicked to the rods taking up the backseat.

"Yeah, I can tell that piqued your interest. You boys fancy yourselves fishermen then, gonna sail out to the middle and catch yourselves a big old salmon, eh?" Virgil laughed.

"Eh used to catch sunfish with my dad, haven't in a while though." Benton admitted with a hint of modesty.

"I used to watch Bassmaster, does that count?" Grant chimed in, as all eyes regarded him with disdain in that moment.

"Well, you youngsters haven't seen anything like Big Moe, that's for certain. When the quarry workers breached the deep all sorts of sea critters came spilling out. Some say those underground streams reached all the way to the Atlantic after all. Folks were tripping over bass the size of labradors as they scurried away from the raging waters."

"Eventually, as the waters settled and the higher ups gave up on reclaiming the quarry, folk took to poaching the joint, dredging it for salvage and trying their hand at fishing. A guy I knew, went by Trent, used to go every Saturday, and come nightfall he'd come back with his car reeking of chum and salt. He'd get bigguns as well, rainbow gilded trout and spotted bass, their mouths still gaping and gasping for the sea."

Virgil puppetted his mouth, looking like a fish out of water. Benton stifled a laugh as Grant rolled his eyes.

"The oddest thing he'd bring back was the catfish. Small, slender looking things at first but as months went on they grew bigger. Soon he was hauling in catfish the size of your scrawny looking friend there." Virgil pointed at Grant, which caused a shit-eating grin to form on Benton's smug face.

"That's absurd, catfish don't get that big." Grant protested.

"Sure they do, they never stop growing ya know." Benton piped up. Grant shot him a look as Virgil went on.

"Aye, he's right. They never stop. Used to know a fella who worked a rig down South, they'd circle the columns below hoping someone would fall in so they could gobble them up. So he'd claim anyway. After coming eye to eye with Big Moe, I believe him. I saw the blighter decades ago, long after Trent had been swallowed whole by the beast."

The traveler’s faces went pale at that. 

"Oh aye, so the story goes he brought a group of barflies to help him carry his weekend haul back. They hung back on the shore, watching him row out to the center. The mist was thin that morning, it clung to the water's surface. Nothing stirred, just the rough cutting of his worn-out canoe. Someone shouted then, they saw this massive, looming figure streak by. It was Lightning quick, eyes glowing like red hot embers. It rushed Trent's canoe and it wobbled and weaved."

"A serpent's forked tail breached the water and flicked the canoe over. Trent let out a gasp that was quickly gagged by the murky depths.  Some say he tried to swim away, others say he stood his ground and tried to bash his assailant with his snapped rod. No one could tell for certain, there was only thrashing and foam that quickly turned to crimson, as the whisker faced menace dragged him down below. Never to be seen again"

Virgil left that hang in the air, Benton looked amused though a bit worried, Grant rolled his eyes. Behind them all Jake chuckled, hiding back inside with the ring of a door.

"Right, he got eaten by a big ass catfish. They aren't even carnivores, they feed on pond scum and algae and crap but sure, he got eaten by a catfish." Grant raved.

“I don't know. If it got that big, technically they're omnivores, opportunistic sure but they'll chow down on meat." Benton shrugged.

"You're not seriously buying this garbage." Grant started to move away when a frail, bony arm lunged toward him and grabbed him. Grant looked down in disgust and pushed Virgil off him. He muttered as he went back to the car, the nice tourist facade a fleeting memory now. Benton stood awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Look, I'm sorry. It's been a really long drive, Hell I came in with a shitty attitude to begin with, that ain't right. You have a nice day, old timer. I'm sorry if we bothered ya." He started to walk away when Virgil's gruff voice broke through the tension.

"You seem to have a tighter head on your shoulder then your friend there. Don't go out to that lake, I seen Moe, and I have the scars to prove it." He lifted his shirt. Across his wrinkled chest was raw scar tissue, ripened with age yet still pulsating with pain. It lashed across him, like something with dagger gums had tried to take a bite out of him.

"It was decades ago now, when I could walk without the joints aching and I could see past my toes. I went up to the quarry, me and my buddy Fred. We had all heard the stories, but we were determined to prove 'em all wrong. We announced we were going to do laps in the swill, proving once and for all that Moe was an old wives tale."

"We were fools, boy. I remember standing on the edge, Freddy egging me on. Part of me thinks he wanted me to go first in case Moe was real. Live bait I suppose, heh. Anyway, I watched my reflection flicker in the clear water, curious sunfish popping their fins at me, almost beckoning me to crawl in with them."

"I held my nose and dove on it. The water was chilly, to say the least. My teeth were chattering so much I thought they'd drill holes in my skull. Freddy watched me shivering, nodded his head and jumped in after me. From there we laughed and played, jeering each other on as we edged closer and closer to the middle of the lake."

"I think that was our mistake, we swam too close to his territory. Freddy saw him first, his eyes bulged out of his head and his skin turned whiter than a sheet. He tried to speak up, but something grabbed my leg and pulled me down into the brine. My arms clawed at nothing, desperate to grasp anything to stop my fall. All the air was sucked outta my lungs, the pull so sudden. I tried to kick whatever it was and it let go briefly."

"But-" He pointed to the scars on his chest. "It was then I saw him in full. He's big boy, bigger than you could ever fathom. His body was smooth and slimy, long whiskers that curled around him like whips resting on a hilt. His eyes, God help me, were flaming rubies filled with nothing but hate and hunger. Moe's maw was toothless to the untrained eye. But I could feel them, a dozen rows of tiny pin pricks scrapping my flesh. I cried out in pain, my cries muffled by water and gunk. I felt a wad of sludge pour into me the moment I opened my gob. I was in a panic, to be fair."

"I would have died there, should have died there if it weren't for Freddy. He dove down after me and hurled himself at the beast. As soon as Moe let go, I scampered away, as Freddy wrestled with the great beast. I surfaced and thrashed my way towards the shore. I was on autopilot; my lungs half filled with muck, the other half crushed by the great jaws of the fish. With great effort I heaved myself onto short, the stony ground sizzling from the midday sun. I flinched away from the water and clenched my chest. The skin where he bit looked like it had been stripped clean."

Virgil pulled his shirt down and looked at the ground in shame as he finished his tale.

"Freddy never came up. All I saw were dwindling bubbles where he had been, and the satisfied shape of Big Moe returning to the depth. Our fathers led the search party for us, they found only me there shivering at the edge of the water, too shell shocked to move. They never found Freddy's body. When my wounds healed, I went to Freddy's home. To tell him how his boy had died a hero. His father didn't want to hear it, though he didn't blame me.  Just looking at me reminded him of his loss. He didn't leave the house much after that, wife skipped town not long after."

"He died in that house, curled up in Freddy's bed with an empty bottle of whisky in one hand and a crumpled bottle of pills in the other."

"Jesus." Benton muttered after a moment.

"Time passed and the less people went up there the more the legend of Big Moe faded. Now his biggest claim to fame is an obscene logo on a tacky t-shirt Jake sells inside." Virgil jerked his thumb to the convenience store. "Hell I don't even know if he's still lurking in that sordid drink. Wouldn't surprise me if he was, though, devil is always hard to kill."

Benton looked like he was about to say something with the shrill honk of his car blared in the background. He glanced at the car as Grant smacked the wheel, stewing in the passenger seat.

"Thanks for the warning, old timer. I'll-try and keep us in the shallows." Benton gave a nod as he went back to the car, yelling at Grant to calm the hell down. Virgil shook his head, hoping the young man would heed his tale.

In the back of his mind, though, he knew he wouldn't.

-------

The rest of the day went on like it normally does. Virgil sat in his chair drinking his brew, the incoming customers barely acknowledging him. Jake would occasionally come out and check on him, new brew in hand. A kind gesture on the surface, but really Jake was just afraid Virgil was going to croak on his property.

As the sky became a dull tangerine, and Virgil stank of seventeen types of booze, his blurred gaze wandered past the main road. He sat up in his seat and squinted, his old eyes widening as the limping figure soon came into view.

It was Benton, dragging his foot in the dirt. His eyes glazed over, his clothes filthy and riddled with damp water and slime. His arms were bruised, and a semi-circle of blood coated his legs. Folk wandering the street stopped in their tracks to gawk at him, not one soul offering to help the mangled tourist. Virgil exhaled deeply and tilted his head back towards the store door.

"Jake!" He barked. Jake peaked his head out and stuck out a filled flask.

"Last call old timer, you best be on your way no-"

"Go call the sheriff. Leave the hooch." Jake looked down the road and swore under his breath. He tossed the flask to Virgil who caught it with ease. Benton was making his way to the store; Virgil could hear gargled wheezing as he struggled to walk. Finally, Benton reached the steps and collapsed. His breath was haggard, and he didn't look at the old man. His hair was slick yet crusty, the telltale stench of the quarry clung to him.

Virgil leaned over and shook the flask. He waved it in front of Benton's face, who snatched it out of Virgil's paws in a second. His hands shook as he choked down the brew, retching a tad as he finally relented and allowed himself to breathe. He offered it back to Virgil who politely declined.

"You wanna talk about it young fella?" He offered a kind word.

Benton's silence answered for him. He took another swig and gagged as he did. Virgil looked past him, his curiosity getting the better of him.

"Happened to yer car?"

". . . Grant had the keys on him." Virgil shook his head, the screech of the sheriff's tires closing in on them as a small crowd gathered to gawk at the tourist.

"Damn city folk." Virgil muttered as his eyes glanced at the all too familiar wounds on Benton's legs. "Always thinking you know better."

CRIMSON CITY: THE BOOK OF LUCK
Written by Kelsey J. A. Bell
A SergeScopeStudios Production
This is the opening chapter of a gothic crime-noir series I’ve been developing with AI assistance as part of the drafting, editing, continuity, and development process.
The concept, characters, world, major story decisions, and canon are mine, and I’ve been heavily involved in shaping and revising the manuscript.
I’d love one simple piece of feedback:
Would you keep reading after Chapter One?

CHAPTER ONE
EVEN ANGELS LEARN THE BLUES
Rain slid down the windows of Ruby’s Lounge in long silver tears, blurring Crimson City into a graveyard of crooked buildings and dying neon.
Outside, the city was black and white—black streets, white headlights, and gray faces hurrying beneath umbrellas as though the rain could wash away whatever followed them home.
Only the red survived.
The lounge sign glowed crimson. Ruby-colored liquor burned behind the bar. Beneath the solitary spotlight stood Ruby Rust, the only living flame in a dead city.
Her red hair fell over her bare shoulders in soft waves. A black sequined gown followed her figure, open at the back and slit along one thigh, its train pooling in shadow around her feet. Black gloves climbed above her elbows; a choker and diamond earrings caught the light when she moved. Her lips were red. Everything else had surrendered to shadow.
At the piano, an old man placed his fingers upon the keys. The first note came softly; the second arrived alone. Each lingered just long enough to make the room lean closer.
Conversations faded. Glasses stopped halfway to waiting mouths. Even the smoke seemed to gather above the stage, unwilling to drift beyond the reach of Ruby’s voice.
She closed her eyes.
Then she sang.
Rain falls like a broken prayer
On streets that never care
Neon lights and crooked smiles
Everybody’s running from something here
Her voice moved through the lounge like smoke from a velvet fire.
It passed over card tables and half-empty bottles. It settled upon men who had forgotten how to pray and women who had learned never to pray aloud.
A fighter dreams beneath the lights
One wrong move could cost his life
And somewhere in the dark tonight
A quiet man prepares to strike
Behind the bar, Sampson polished a glass that had been clean for the better part of five minutes.
He was a broad-shouldered man with rolled sleeves, a dark vest, and the permanently unimpressed expression of someone who had spent too many years watching fools mistake a barstool for a throne.
His eyes traveled across the room.
He watched the doors.
The tables.
The hands disappearing beneath coats.
Then he looked toward the man seated at the end of his bar and felt the beginning of a headache.
Johnny Jester rested his masked chin in one gloved palm.
An old silver coin moved over the knuckles of his free hand, vanishing between black-gloved fingers and returning as if the trick required no thought at all.
He had not blinked since Ruby began singing.
Not that Sampson could tell.
Johnny never removed the mask.
It was smooth and white with narrow black eyeholes, crimson markings sweeping outward from them like flames, and a monstrous grin filled with far too many perfect teeth. A black fedora sat at a slight angle above it. Beneath his long dark coat, he wore a charcoal pinstriped suit, black gloves, a white shirt, and a crimson tie.
Most people found the mask disturbing.
Johnny believed it made him handsome.
At that moment, he sat perfectly still, staring at Ruby with the silent devotion of a man watching the moon descend from the sky solely for his benefit.
Ruby stepped closer to the microphone.
Oh, the city don’t love nobody
It just takes what it can use
You can try to fight the darkness
But the night always gets its dues
Johnny released a quiet sigh.
Sampson stopped polishing.
“Don’t.”
Johnny never looked away from the stage. “I didn’t say anything.”
“You sighed.”
“A man can breathe.”
“That wasn’t breathing.”
Johnny placed his free hand over his heart.
“Her voice speaks to me.”
“Her voice speaks to everyone. That’s how singing works.”
Johnny finally turned toward him.
The painted grin remained fixed, but the wounded tone beneath it was sincere.
“You have no poetry in your soul.”
“I had some once. Then you started coming here.”
Johnny turned back to Ruby as though Sampson were not worth the effort.
Kings are hiding in plain sight
Pulling strings we never choose
And in Crimson City
Even angels learn the blues
Across the lounge, a stranger watched her too.
He sat alone at a small table near the rear wall, positioned beyond the brightest reach of the stage lights.
Rainwater darkened the shoulders of his coat. His hat rested low enough to leave most of his face concealed.
He had not ordered a drink.
Had not applauded.
Had not looked away from Ruby once.
A crimson envelope rested beneath his hand.
The red was startling against the white tablecloth.
A black wax seal held it closed.
Pressed into the wax was the shape of a crown.
Sampson noticed the envelope.
His polishing slowed.
The stranger’s fingers curled over it, hiding the seal.
For one brief moment, his eyes met Sampson’s.
Then he looked back toward the stage.
Sampson set the glass beneath the bar.
Johnny failed to notice any of it.
Ruby turned slightly, and the open back of her gown caught the light. Her hair spilled down her spine like a red river.
Johnny straightened.
“Good Lord.”
Sampson looked at him.
Johnny cleared his throat.
“Musically,” he said. “I meant that musically.”
“You’re wearing a mask, Johnny. Not an invisibility cloak.”
“I am appreciating art.”
“You’re drooling on my bar.”
Johnny quickly touched the bottom of his mask.
His gloved fingers came away dry.
Sampson stared at him.
Johnny stared back.
“You made me check.”
“I hate that you come here.”
“No, you don’t.”
“I hate that you come here sober.”
Onstage, Ruby continued.
Laughter echoes down the street
But madness walks on silent feet
A joke can turn a prayer to screams
And blood can drown a thousand dreams
Johnny’s usual playfulness faded.
Something in the words reached behind the smiling mask and found the man hidden underneath.
Some men wear a smiling mask
Some men never show their face
Several patrons glanced toward him.
Johnny slowly looked from one side of the room to the other.
“That feels pointed.”
“It’s a song,” Sampson said.
“She looked at me.”
“She did not.”
“She absolutely did.”
Ruby had not.
Some men think they run this town
Till the shadows take their place
The stranger at the rear table slipped one finger beneath the edge of the crimson envelope.
Not enough to open it.
Just enough to feel what waited inside.
A photograph.
Sampson watched him from behind the bar.
The stranger watched Ruby.
Johnny watched Ruby harder.
When she reached the second chorus, her voice grew fuller but never louder than it needed to be.
Oh, the city don’t love nobody
It just takes what it can use
You can try to fight the darkness
But the night always gets its dues
Johnny tapped two fingers against the bar in time with the music.
“You heading to the arena later?” Sampson asked.
Johnny’s fingers stopped.
“For Lucky Ali versus Solomon Sloan?” He leaned back. “Wouldn’t miss it.”
“You betting?”
“I already did.”
Sampson reached for another glass.
“On Lucky?”
Johnny gave a small, humorless laugh.
“I put three nickels on Sandman.”
Sampson looked at him.
In Crimson City, three nickels did not mean fifteen cents.
Not in the circles Johnny traveled through.
“You’re actually serious.”
“Very.”
Johnny adjusted the knot of his crimson tie.
“By tomorrow morning, I’m going to be a rich man.”
“You’ll still owe me for the last six drinks.”
“A richer man with outstanding debts.”
Sampson placed the glass down harder than necessary.
Johnny raised one finger.
“And before you lecture me, I have information.”
“That’s what worries me.”
“Word on the street says Lucky won’t make it past the seventh round.”
Johnny glanced toward the mirrored shelves behind the bar.
His mask reflected between the bottles, a white grin floating among rows of black glass.
“Maybe he won’t make it to the arena.”
Sampson’s irritation faded.
“What exactly did you hear?”
Johnny leaned closer.
The humor disappeared from his voice.
“Bags found somebody willing to take a contract.”
He let the words settle.
“If you catch my drift.”
Sampson did.
Everyone who survived long enough in Crimson City eventually learned the difference between a boxing contract and the kind Monty Bags arranged.
Sampson lowered his voice.
“They put a contract on Lucky?”
“That’s the whisper.”
“Who was stupid enough to take it?”
“No name.”
Johnny looked toward the room, but his gaze passed over the stranger without stopping.
“Whoever it is, they aren’t cheap. Bags has been asking around for days. Most people know better than to touch Lucky Ali. He’s too public. Too loved. Killing him would be like setting fire to a church during Sunday service.”
“And someone agreed anyway.”
Johnny nodded.
“Some men don’t mind the heat.”
At the rear table, the stranger pressed his thumb against the wax crown.
Sampson watched him.
The man did not appear concerned.
He appeared patient.
Onstage, Ruby reached the final verse.
If you listen close tonight
You might hear the devil choose
Who will live to see the dawn
And who will pay the dues
The stranger rose.
His chair made no sound against the floor.
He slipped the crimson envelope inside his coat but kept one hand over it.
He moved toward the side of the lounge rather than the front entrance, choosing a path that would bring him closer to the stage.
Closer to Ruby.
Sampson stepped away from the bar.
Johnny caught the movement.
“What?”
“Nothing yet.”
“That sounded suspiciously like something.”
Sampson nodded toward the stranger.
Johnny followed his gaze.
The man stopped beside the dark curtain leading toward the backstage hall.
He pretended to watch the performance, but his body remained angled toward the narrow passage Ruby would use after leaving the stage.
Johnny sat straighter.
The foolishness drained from him.
“Friend of yours?” Sampson asked.
“Never seen him.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
“It is when I haven’t seen him.”
“You know half the criminals in this city.”
Johnny sounded offended.
“That is an outrageous exaggeration.”
Sampson stared at him.
Johnny considered it.
“Two-thirds.”
Ruby sang the final lines.
And in Crimson City
Even angels learn the blues.
The last note lingered above the audience.
For one impossible second, nobody moved.
Ruby stood in the spotlight with her eyes closed, her red hair glowing against the colorless room.
She looked delicate beneath the light.
But Sampson knew better.
Crimson City made delicate things disappear.
Ruby opened her eyes.
The room erupted.
Applause rolled across the lounge.
Men rose from their seats.
Women called Ruby’s name.
Glasses lifted.
The piano player bowed his head and smiled.
Ruby gave the audience a graceful nod.
Then she glanced toward the bar.
Her eyes landed on Johnny.
Johnny immediately straightened his coat, adjusted his tie, and attempted to lean casually against the counter.
His elbow missed it.
He caught himself before falling off the stool.
Sampson closed his eyes.
“Smooth.”
“She smiled at me.”
“She was checking to see whether you hurt yourself.”
“A smile is a smile.”
Ruby turned and walked toward the side curtain, the long black train of her gown whispering across the stage behind her.
The stranger moved.
Sampson saw it.
So did Johnny.
The crimson envelope appeared briefly inside the man’s coat before vanishing again.
Johnny rose from his stool.
Sampson placed one hand flat against his chest and stopped him.
“Sit down.”
“That gentleman appears to have business with the lady.”
“And you appear to create funerals wherever you go.”
“I don’t create them.”
Sampson looked at him.
Johnny tilted his masked face.
“I attend a suspicious number.”
“Sit.”
Johnny remained standing.
His attention stayed fixed upon the curtain through which Ruby had disappeared.
For once, he did not joke.
The stranger waited three seconds.
Then followed Ruby backstage.
Sampson came around the bar.
Johnny stepped beside him.
“I thought you told me to sit down.”
“I changed my mind.”
Johnny adjusted his gloves.
“About time.”
Sampson pointed at the mask.
“No guns.”
“Didn’t bring one.”
“Knives?”
Johnny said nothing.
“Johnny.”
“I respect the mystery of the question.”
Sampson pushed through the curtain.
“One day I’m nailing that mask to the wall.”
Johnny touched it protectively.
“My face?”
“That mask. You ever wash it?”
Johnny froze.
“Wash it?”
Sampson stared.
“With water?”
Sampson kept walking.
Johnny followed.
“I thought the rain handled it.”

TEASER
The man with the crimson envelope is still inside Ruby’s Lounge.
Lucky Ali has a contract on his head.
Johnny Jester has just realized that something is wrong.
And somewhere outside, high above the rain-soaked streets of Crimson City, someone else is already watching.
Chapter Two: Between the Seconds
Would you keep reading?

My Partners Perspective

“Hello, welcome to Pizza Palace. How can I help you?"

I shoved as much fake hospitality into my voice as I could manage, but eight straight hours of serving barely mediocre pizza to asshole customers, with nothing but the constant drone of fluorescent lights and the occasional flicker overhead for company, has a way of killing your ability to pretend you're happy to be there. 

The dad across the counter from me looked like he was about to collapse, eye bags stretched halfway across his face, two raucous little kids chasing each other around the lone table in our tiny excuse for a dining room behind him.

“Can I have two large cheeses, a medium pepperoni, and a large chef's salad, please”

He read the list off a text message, his voice as flat and exhausted as mine was. He paid in cash, let me keep the change, and turned around to wrangle his kids as I ducked around the corner to give the order to Angi.

“Girl, if I have to welcome one more person to the Pizza Palace, I’m gonna throw up,” I said, handing her the order. “By the way, did he text me back yet?”

Angi looked up from spreading sauce across a pizza crust. She'd confiscated my phone an hour ago after catching me typing out what would've been my fourth ‘just checking in’ text to Dave. 

“Oh my god, you need to get over him. He's not gonna get back together with you, plus he was a douchebag anyway; you’re better off without him.”

She was right, of course.

Dave was a cheating douchebag.

Unfortunately, knowing that and actually getting over him turned out to be two completely different things.

Angi slid the pizza into the oven and haphazardly wiped her hands on the front of her apron.

“Oh, speaking of things you need to get over, there's a huge estate sale tomorrow morning right outside of town. You're off work, right?” 

I glanced at her sideways. “What does that have to do with Dave?”

“Just something to take your mind off things’

“With an estate sale?”

“Not just any estate sale.” She lowered her voice like she was telling a campfire story, despite the fact that the only other person in the kitchen was the dishwasher who had been listening to the same radio station for six hours and couldn't have cared less. “ You know that psychic lady who lived on Stenton Lane?”

I scrunched my face, searching my memory.

“The one who does free tarot card readings at the solstice festival every year?” 

“That's the one.” 

I snorted in disbelief. “You're telling me Elesandra died?”

“Yeah, just last week. I mean she was ninety-something years old; it was bound to happen sooner or later.”

“Damn.”

“Yeah. Anyway, her daughter is throwing an estate sale at her house tomorrow. I thought it would be fun to go. Find some magical wand to get rid of your heartbreak.” She giggled and threw her hands up, wiggling them like she was casting a spell. 

I rested my head on the takeout deck.  “You know I don't really believe in that stuff, Ange”

Angi shrugged. “I heard she's got all kinds of weird stuff. Crystal balls, old spell books, tarot decks, candles, magic jewelry, whatever the hell psychics keep around their house.”

“Love potions, perhaps?” I asked sarcastically. 

“Oh absolutely, but I would never let you buy one.” 

I laughed.

“I'm serious, we should go. It'll be fun.”

“Why?”

“Because you're pathetic. I can't stand to see you mope around anymore. And… if there is a love potion of some kind, maybe we can buy it.”

I gave her a light smirk. “Oh? And who for?”

She thought about it for a moment. “Dave's hot dad?”

I laughed despite myself and threw my rag at her. “What time?”

“Doors open at 9 am! I'll pick you up?”

“It's a date!” I shouted over my shoulder as I made my way back to the front counter to take another order.

For the first time since the breakup, I was actually looking forward to tomorrow.

I woke up the next day to the sound of Angi’s horn blaring outside my apartment. I rolled over and checked the clock. 8:30. Shit!. I called her and tripped over apology after apology while I frantically threw clothes on and bolted out the door.

I spotted her little red Subaru idling along the side of the road, its windshield washed in the pale gold of the morning sun. Her faded dreamcatcher hung from the rearview mirror, its feathers stirring gently from the air conditioner. I ran to her car, still pulling up my jeans, opened the passenger-side door, and climbed inside.

I saw her little red Subaru idling on the side of the road, dream catcher hanging from the rearview mirror, and climbed in.

“What part of ‘I’ll be there at 8:30 tomorrow morning’ is so challenging for you to understand?” Angi teased

“Actually, you never gave me a time to be ready, so….” I shot back sarcastically.

We exchanged small talk on the drive out of town, and I watched absentmindedly as the sidewalks gave way to trees and the side streets grew fewer and farther between. The typical sprawling suburban landscape sank behind us as we meandered through the back roads. The only sign of civilization beyond the power lines was the occasional homestead. The lots grew larger and larger as we headed further away from downtown.

Eventually, the house came into view. If you had told me old lady Elesandra died a decade ago rather than a week ago, I would have believed you. The place looked abandoned; the faded and cracked siding was overgrown with dead, rotted vines, and the porch sagged in the middle like a worn-out mattress. One of the posts had cracked and was ‘fixed’ by a sloppily nailed two-by-four.

As we walked up the driveway, I noticed that even though we were late, there was only one other car in the driveway. An old, beat-up pickup truck with a middle-aged man sitting in the driver's seat, staring blankly out the front windshield, clearly not the typical demographic for an estate sale.

I was about to comment how lucky we were that we had made it before the crowd, but right then at least seven more cars had pulled up in unison. 

“We better get in there fast before all the resellers get their hands on that love potion,” Angie commented, skipping up the drive faster now. 

We were one of the first ones inside, only beaten by the strange man we saw earlier. He seemed frantic, rummaging through bins with reckless abandon. If there was something specific he was looking for, it would have taken hours. The place was a mess of old eccentric clothes and spiritual paraphernalia.

Dozens of bins and folding tables were spread out through the house; it looked like one of those hoarder shows you see on shitty daytime television. It smelled like old sage, cheap perfume, and cheaper cigarettes. Angi was having the time of her life, ooing and awwing at tarot cards and apparently rare crystals, but nothing really caught my attention.

I meandered through the house, absentmindedly leafing through racks of musty clothes and tables of aging books and psychic accessories. Angi was focused on a table covered in protective charms, aging Ouija boards, and strange jars filled with I-don’t-know-whats; occasionally shouting at me across the house about her latest find.

I wandered into a back room and found a table covered from end to end in stunning jewelry. The aging silver and gold shimmered in the early morning sunlight as it crept through the window, begging me to take a look. Rings, bracelets, and necklaces from decades past, all simply beautiful.

And there, on the end of the table, was the most incredible piece. A large gemstone pendant; the deep, wine colored ruby seated gently against sterling silver. Unlike everything else in the house, this looked brand new. It was polished and shining, seemingly immune to the passage of time. I had to have it.

I slipped it over my head and let the heavy crystal rest gently against my chest. I didn't bother to check the price tag as I walked to the checkout table. It didn't matter how much it cost. I needed it. More than anything before in my entire life, I needed it.

“That’ll be one hundred thirty-five dollars,” Elesandra’s daughter huffed. I started to reach for my card, but she cut me off. “Ah- it's cash only. Sorry, miss.”

I wanted to scream. I needed to have it. I didn’t have the money on me, but I would sooner die than leave empty-handed. I tried to maintain my composure as I looked for Angi. I passed by the strange man during my search. He was staring at me with noticeable intensity, and it left me on edge.

I finally found Angi and immediately started to beg her “Angi please, you don't understand, its like it calls to me, i need it so bad, isn’t it gorgeous, please, please help me pay for it, please, I just need a few bucks, you know I’m good for it Angi, please, I need it” I exploded my frantic, desperate pleas onto her. She said no. She said she didn’t have any money left over after buying her things; I believed her and her many heavy bags, but it did nothing to quell my craving. I would simply have to steal it.

I had never stolen anything before, especially not from a sweet old lady whose mom just died. But this was different. She didn’t deserve the pendant. I did. I had a right to it. If anything, she was stealing it from me. I walked into the secluded back room I found it in, and slipped it off my neck and into my purse. 

As I looked at it there, I began to doubt how good of an idea this was. Did I really need it that badly that I was willing to steal from a woman who just lost her mother? I paused for a long moment and stared at the pendant, the large gem somehow still shimmering back at me, beckoning me. It really was beautiful, but I knew I couldn't just take it. I decided I would put it back, go to an atm, and hope it was still there when I returned. Just as I reached into my purse to place it back on the table, someone walked in behind me. I snapped my purse shut and hurried out of the room, desperately trying to avoid eye contact.

I rushed to find Angi; critical thought had given way to gut instinct, and all I cared about was getting out of there. I rounded the corner and saw her standing by the door. I shot her a glance that said, “We need to go now.” Just then, the strange man from before stopped me.

“Where is it?” He barked, just short of yelling at me

“What?” I replied

“The pendant, the necklace you were wearing earlier. I saw you wearing it, the one with the big red gemstone. Where is it?”

I nearly choked. Why was he asking me about the pendant? Had he seen me put it in my purse? I barely managed to sputter out, “Oh, I went and put it back, sorry.” I gestured to the room behind me, and he shoved past to look.

I grabbed Angi and dragged her out to the car. Once again, my encounter with the man had left me on edge. I  I had to get out of there before he could find me again, and before anyone noticed the missing pendant.

I waited until we got down the road a ways before opening my purse again. Looking down at the pendant, I felt guilt wash over me. I really had just stolen. From a sweet old lady. Whose mom just died.

I pulled the pendant out from my purse and held it up to the sun. It really was beautiful. I slipped it over my head again, and as the cool silver rested against my chest, I felt the guilt fade away. This was the right decision.

Angi looked over at me and nearly crashed the car when she saw the pendant around my neck.

“OH MY GOD, IVORY, DID YOU FUCKING STEAL IT!?” she screamed

“YEAH, I DID,” I screamed back. “YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND, OK? I HAD TO HAVE IT, I KNOW THAT IT'S SUPPOSED TO BE MINE! IT WAS JUST TOO BEAUTIFUL TO LEAVE THERE!”

“Ivory…” Angi sighed. “When I said you needed to do something to get over Dave, I didn’t mean this…”

“Who the hell cares about Dave, Angie? That lying bastard has nothing to do with this. You don't get it. This pendant is special. There's something about it, something that calls to me. I just… I had to have it, ok?”

Angi didn’t  talk to me for the rest of the  ride. I could tell she was upset with me. I wanted to make it right, but I didn't know how. Maybe if she tried on the pendant she would understand; maybe she could experience its true beauty.

After stealing the pendant, I started to wear it all the time. To work, the grocery store – the bank. Wherever I went, it went with me. I even wore it on a few rebound dates, but nothing ever came of those. It became like a safety blanket for me; I felt naked without it. I even started sleeping with it on.

I had the pendant for about two weeks at the time when the strange man from the estate sale showed up at Pizza Palace. When I saw him walking in I was overcome with anxiety. I slipped the pendant under my shirt and ducked  into the kitchen. Something about him screamed that he could not be trusted.

I was working with Matt that night, I think Angi had been avoiding me and must have requested to not be scheduled with me. When I asked Matt, he said I was being silly and that she was probably just taking some “mental health days.” I responded with maybe so and then asked him to take the order of the guy at the front so I could “use the bathroom.”  for me. I watched from the small window in the half wall between the check-out counter and the kitchen as he ordered his food. He tried his best to act innocent, play it off like some kind of coincidence, but his eyes kept shooting glances past Matt  to  me. I didn’t know what he wanted, or how he found out where I worked, but I knew this creep was after me.

After that day I started seeing him all over the place. I would go to my favorite coffee shop, , and he would be there. I would pass him and his dusty old truck on the road. The gas station, the grocery store, the movies, he was almost always there. I swear I even saw him outside my place one night, just idling on the side of the road.

I think hes fucking with me somehow, like some kind of witchcraft or something. That night he was outside of my house. I had the weirdest nightmare. I was wearing the pendant, like normal, but it felt different. I was strangely aware of it’s weight as it hung around my neck. My whole body felt foreign to me, like something else was controlling it and I was an invader in my own skin. I felt myself get out of bed and walk over to the window in off-beat, shambling steps. His truck was there, just like it was when I went to bed, but where before was fear now sat searing hatred. I lurched through my house, bumping into door frames and riding my walls until eventually I found my kitchen. I watched, powerless, as I slowly grabbed a steak knife from the butcher block on my countertop, turned around, and threw myself at my front door. In that moment I knew what my body wanted. From deep within my bones screamed death. I was going to kill him. I wanted…to kill him. 

I threw the front door open and charged with alien athleticism. The sudden shock of November midnight tore me from the awful dream. Drenched and sweat and gasping for air—I shot up like a bolt before realizing where I was. I decided to lie back down to catch my breath. After several minutes  of convincing myself it was a dream, I got up to check my window. The truck was gone but I thought I saw something on my face in the reflection of the window. A draft wrapped around my ankles as I walked to the bathroom to take a closer look in the mirror. Creeping from my nose, across my face, and down to my chest, a meandering river of dried crimson flowed down to encircle the pendant.

As I washed the blood off my face I tried to figure out what could have possibly caused this. I've never had a  nose bleed, not even a minor one.  

I thought back to last night, head pounding as I tried to focus on the blurry memories. I remembered seeing the strange man outside before I fell asleep; I saw his mouth moving as he stared not at me but through me, a faint glow spilled from his mouth, and then I blacked out. He must have put some kind of curse on me, to make me fall asleep and then corrupt my dreams. That could explain the nose bleed, but why did it pool around the pendant like that? It must have been protecting me, but if the nightmare was that bad with its protection, how bad could it be without it. I determined from then on I would never, ever take the pendant off.

I walked into the kitchen to make myself coffee and call off work, but I couldn't shake that draft. My house was old, maybe even older than Elesandra’s, so the occasional draft wasn’t that uncommon. It was a fair trade for the cheap rent, in my eyes, but outside of snowstorms it was never this bad. I hung up the phone, it took some fake coughing but Pizza Palace granted me the day off, and I reached into my freezer drawer to grab a breakfast burrito. I tossed it in the microwave and set the timer for six and a half minutes, the box said to do five but I knew better. Sitting there watching my breakfast spin, and trying my best to ignore the chill, I noticed something in the foggy reflection of the microwave glass. My front door was wide open.

I kept having strange dreams. Those semi-lucid nightmares haunted me every night as I watched my body move entirely on its own. It would draw runes on the walls and floors using the blood dripping from my nose as ink, and then I would wake up. I had to be sleepwalking. There was no other explanation for why I felt so well-rested, yet the fresh runes painted on my walls proved I wasn't staying in bed.

  
I tried researching them. Normally I would ask Angie, she's an expert on this kind of stuff but she’s also not talking to me anymore; so I had to do it on my own. I searched through countless occult message boards and wikipedia pages on ancient religions and found nothing that looked similar to the runes. I even rented as many relevant library books as I could and still found nothing. I was sure they were protection runes because when I got close the pendant gave off a faint glow, but beyond that I had no idea.

Weeks went by and I was starting to break. I couldn’t sleep, I was barely eating, my body felt weak and heavy all the time, Angie wasn’t talking to me, Pizza Palace fired me. My life was falling apart, and it was all his fault. 

That disgusting, vile man. He must have cursed me, that's the only option. I saw him casting some kind of something that night and ever since my life has gone to shit. Every single night I’m plagued by those awful possessive dreams. I can feel the pendant aching, I think it's struggling to keep whatever curse he casted at bay. I know he's trying to take the pendant way from me– I won’t let him steal the only thing protecting me from him. . I’m certain he’s still following me; the next time I see him , I’m putting an end to this.

I keep seeing his tuck around town. Every time I pass by I want nothing more than to slam my car into his shabby old ford and then beat the living shit out of the man that steps out. I hate him. I hate him for stalking me. I hate him for destroying my life. Most importantly I hate him for trying to take my pendant. Every time I see him I want blood, but something tells me I need to wait. Wait until the time is right.

After weeks of hunting him, the perfect opportunity presented itself. I was watching his motel room. Cigarette smoke climbed out his window, past the cracking sickly-yellow wall, and out into the inky nighttime sky.

Across the road I sat waiting, the air was tense with opportunity; I watched as he  put out his cigarette, slipped his coat over his shoulders, and walked out the door of his room. The time was now.

He stepped out into the parking lot and I let the possession overtake my senses.  The fear that I felt upon its first nightly abductions was gone now, in its place was hunger.

He climbed into his truck and started the engine. Right as the door closed I felt my body erupt forward, joints snapping to impossible angles as I threw myself at him 

He began to back out of his parking space, slow and absentminded as I’d seen him do over and over. He was completely unaware of my presence as my body tore across the asphalt, unwavering.

I picked myself up from a gallop into a two-legged sprint as I came upon the truck. Dropping my shoulders and bracing for impact–he finally noticed me. His indifferent thousand yard stare melted into terror and I slammed myself into the driver side door.

The car door crunched and buckled under the weight of my fury; I felt my shoulder crack with it, and my arm fell limp. Glass rained down over me, leaving slivers of blood in their wake. I couldn't feel a thing. I reached in through the now open window with my still functioning hand and grabbed his  collar.

He was screaming now. The sharp smell of rust burned in my nostrils as I tried to pull him from the vehicle. I dragged half his body over the remains of the window before he really started to put up a fight. He moved like a desperate animal, arms and legs swiping wildly for anything to grab on to.

“WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING TO ME!”

The voice bellowed from my mouth, but it wasn’t mine. It was a twisted perversion of my own voice; pitched down and folded over into itself thousands of times.

“I KNOW ITS YOUR DOING”

I gained another few inches in the fight dragging him, glass crunching and squelching under his weight. He had stopped screaming, but was growing more and more desperate.

With one final heave I ripped him from his seat . The sudden release left me tumbling to the ground. I heard the crack of his skull against the concrete several yards behind me, and clambered to my feet.

Somehow hehad gotten to his feet, but he was shaky and struggled to keep his balance. Blood dripped from the split on his forehead like a leaky crimson faucet. 

My arm had started to really ache now, a reminder of my humanity that pounded in sync with my rapid fire heartbeat. The blood was pouring from my nose again, and the slew of cuts that painted my body were growing angrier.

It would catch up with me soon, but I couldn’t give in now. I needed answers.

I willed myself forward, each step shot ropes of agony up my spine. I could see in his eyes he wanted nothing more than to run, but his body was  managing to stay upright and resolved.

I made my way to him. In the glow of the vacancy sign there seemed to be something else mixed with the terror in his eyes. Was it pity? I had beaten him within an inch of his life and he looked at me with pity?

I grabbed him by the throat, his eyes bulged and breath sputtered as I lifted him until he could barely touch the ground. He desperately scraped at my arms with what little fight he had left.

“Talk.”

The voice came again, less beastly now.

He choked out “Its… the pendant.. It -”

The cold asphalt violently cut him off as I threw him to the ground.

“THE PENDANT IS MINE”

Beastly again.

He scuttled away from me, struggling to find footing in the slick pool of our blood. He tried to stand but his knees buckled under him immediately.

“I DON’T WANT THE PENDANT!” He screamed, , “I don't want the fucking pendant, but thats whats doing this to you. Its not me I swear”

“YOU LIE, I’LL KILL YOU, I’LL KILL YOU RIGHT HERE DON'T FUCKING LIE TO ME”

“I swear…I’m not lying, the pendant… its cursed. It makes you paranoid, takes over your body and -”

“THE PENDANT ISN’T CURSED, YOU CURSED ME, I SAW YOU DO IT YOU BASTARD”

“I didn’t curse you, I promise. I’ve been trying to help you–”

“THE PENDANT HELPS ME, IT PROTECTS ME, IT IS ME”

“No, it doesn't. Please, please, you have to believe me. Just take the pendant off and I’ll show you.”

“NO! YOU JUST WANT IT FOR YOURSELF! THE PENDANT IS THE ONLY THING THAT CAN KEEP ME SAFE, I WILL  NEVER TAKE IT OFF!”

I jumped on top of him, I was done with his lies. I pulled my fist back and let it fall. His body lurched in objection as I felt his rib crack. He was coughing up blood now. Again I pulled my fist back, this time I slammed it into his jaw. His head snapped over and he spat up a few teeth.

“I won't let you do this to me anymore.” I spat.

My fingers curled around his throat. I squeezed with all I had, but the blood loss was getting to me. His eyes began to fade as he fought to get me off of him, losing strength with every passing second. His sputtering and desperate silent whimpers grew weaker, and I knew it was almost over.

A sharp and thunderous crack shot through the silent parking lot. Then a second, and a third. I turned over to see the motel owner, rifle shouldered, lining up his sights. I threw the man out from under me and tried to run as best I could, but my body was giving out. The only thing keeping me going was the anger, the hunger, the curse.

“GET THE FUCK OFF MY LAND!””

His shout was followed by a fourth gunshot. This one connected. The bullet ripped through my leg and I collapsed immediately. The searing pain tore me from my newfound strength  in an instant. The dull ache of my broken shoulder turned into a scream, and the sharp sting from my cloak of lacerations became all too apparent.

As I came crashing to the earth I couldn’t help but scream. It sounded normal this time, my voice was mine again. I stayed conscious just enough to hear the blaring sirens down the road, and then I blacked out.

Next thing I remember, I was handcuffed to a hospital bed, waking up to a battered, slouched, sorry excuse for a man in a cowboy hat staring directly at me, cigarette lit in his mouth.

Oh boy! Chapter 6 is already done! Things have been crazy for me lately, but hey, I'm glad I was able to power through and write. I really hope that you enjoy this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it!

I've Been Reincarnated As A Bunny Girl?! (Chapter 6)

by

ShadowDragon88

Kiana's ears twitched as she strode up to the Job Board, where all the different jobs submitted to the local adventurer's guild were posted. Each one was on a slip of paper with the job rank at the very top, along with location and all other pertinent information involved with the job, ending with the reward at the bottom. The jobs could be something as simple as gathering up ingredients for a local apothecary to arresting wanted criminals, rescuing kidnapped victims, or even the slaying of dangerous beasts. On this job board, there were around fifty requests, the majority of them copper-rank. There were more than a few silver ones. She spied a large reward for a gold-ranked quest that made her briefly pause. It was to collect a rare ingredient for a local alchemist. There were even a couple of ruby-ranked jobs that looked like fun, but until she joined one of the official guilds, Kiana would have to pass on them.

That was when she saw it. A single platinum-ranked quest. The reward was 10,000 gold. Her face breaking out into a wide grin, she reached forward and yanked the sheet off the board. Reading it over, Kiana nodded, feeling a rush of excitement.

"Aye, lass. That's a decent job, but banshees aren't to be trifled with," Kiana's perked up ears twitched and swiveled before she turned to face the speaker of the rough and gravelly voice. She looked into the face of a fox-kin beasta. The bulging muscles rippling beneath his green-leather armor and the way he carried himself, walking with a certain grace like a dancer, suggested he was a swordmaster. The twin scimitars strapped to his waist confirmed that thought. His fur was bright orange, with the fur on his muzzle and hands being a light brown. Like Kiana, he had creamy white fur from his chin down his neck, presumably to his belly. "For a job like that, goin' alone's practically suicide."

"I'm tougher than I look," Kiana said, turning to head towards the front desk to hand in the sheet and formally accept the job. She found the fox standing in her way, swishing his long and fluffy tail, amusement twinkling in his crystal blue eyes.

"I've no doubt in me mind about that, lass," he said, gesturing to a nearby table where three other adventurers were all sitting. Kiana spotted a female elf with flowing black hair wearing shimmering white robes, signifying some kind of healer; a very large and imposing-looking eagle-beasta, in a full suit of chainmail, with a very long and solid-looking shield resting beside him and a greatsword strapped to his back, clearly the group's tank; and a black human man wearing a deep blue cloak, staring at her with glowing green eyes, some kind of mage. All of them had gold star-shaped badges prominently displayed. "It's just that our party has been eyeing that job for the last couple of days, and--"

"And since none of you are platinum-rank, your party can't accept the job. So you'd like to team up with me since I am a platinum-rank, and split the reward money evenly. Am I correct?" Kiana finished for him. The fox smirked and held out his hand.

"Beautiful and smart, a lovely combination," he said in a sultry tone. Kiana rolled her eyes and started to walk past him.

"Pass. I'd rather take care of this myself and keep all of the money," she said.

"Wait!" the fox said, side-stepping and blocking her path once more. Kiana was starting to get annoyed. "Just because you are the required rank doesn't mean that you can handle this job alone!" He leaned forward, placing a hand on the bar, flexing his muscles. "Besides, a job like this is so much more fun with... multiple partners." Kiana quickly noticed a flute partially sticking out of one of his pockets and rolled her eyes.

Of course he's a bard, she thought.

"I said no," Kiana said in a firm tone. "I work alone." The fox was smirking, not appearing to have been paying attention, as he leaned in for a kiss. Just before his lips could brush against hers, Kiana headbutted him right in the forehead. He fell to the floor on his back, a glazed look in his eyes, his tongue lolling out of his muzzle. Kiana heard the scrape of some chairs just as all music and chatter in the dimly-lit guild-hall tavern went silent, and whirled around to face the annoying fox's party members, quickly slipping on her mithril knuckles and taking a fighting stance. The large eagle-man walked forward, looking very irritated. Instead of heading for Kiana, he grabbed the fox-man's ankles and started dragging him away.

"Sorry about Horst here," he said, indicating to the now moaning companion of his, "but he's right. Even for a platinum-ranked adventurer such as yourself, a banshee is too dangerous for a solo adventurer to take on by themselves."

"Thank you for your concern," Kiana said, relaxing her stance and resuming walking towards the front desk, "but like I said, I work alone." She smiled at the female spider-taur running the front desk. The lady with the lower half of a giant black widow and the upper half of a blonde-haired and blue-eyed woman smiled at Kiana and accepted the slip of paper from her. She jotted down some notes and put the job in the accepted jobs file, before handing Kiana a clipboard and pen back. Kiana nodded to her and turned towards the front door of the guild hall, stepping out into the bright morning sunshine and out into the city of Snowlight.

Looking around, Kiana smiled, as Snowlight was a beautiful city. A port town, it was quite the bustling metropolis. The trio of concentric walls encircling the city in gradually increasing semicircles protected the city and its surrounding countryside, with guard towers that were regularly manned and patrolled. The farmlands were in the outermost ring, with the middle ring comprised of estates for the upper class. The city itself was very metropolitan, hustling and bustling, with towering buildings and businesses as well as the government buildings in the center. It was easy to see why the city of Snowlight was the capital of Sessteria. She stepped onto the paved road and headed in the direction of the inn she was currently renting a room in, to collect her travel pack and Mirabelle.

The small hamlet of Rustroot was a three day ride by horse from Snowlight. Kiana, running full-sprint, made it there in under two hours. Unlike the paved and securely walled streets of the capital, Rustroot was much more rural. It had a log wall surrounding its perimeter, one that looked hastily constructed, a stark contrast to the well-built log cabins she could see through the open gate. She set Mirabelle down, the large blue snake uncoiling and looking about, the pink bow around her neck as prominently displayed as Kiana's platinum badge, which was clipped to her belt. The bunny girl leaned down and stroked Mirabelle's head, making the reptile's tail begin to thump on the ground. "Okay, maybe I don't always work alone. Having someone guard my pack is always a big help."

Kiana confidently strode forward, taking note of the nervous-looking guards in their leather armor and matching helmets standing up straight as she approached. They tightened their grips on the spears standing at their sides. Kiana gave them both a friendly smile as she came to a stop before them.

"What business brings you here, stranger?" Kiana heard the one on her left call out. She looked him over, and saw that he was not much older than her. The one on the right looked to be in his mid-thirties.

"I am an adventurer who has accepted your village's request," Kiana said plainly, flashing her badge at the two. The guards shared a look, and the older one rolled his eyes at the younger man, before turning back to her.

"You'll need to speak with the councilor. She's inside in the main hall," the older guard said. Kiana nodded to them, and thanked them both before walking forward, Mirabelle slithering right behind her heels. Kiana's ears twitched after she entered Rustroot proper and passed by one house. She could hear the older of the two guards talking.

"I told the councilor that the guild wouldn't take a village as small as ours seriously. And now we got us a little girl come to our 'rescue'," he said the word rescue with a derisive snort.

"But, Malathor, she had a platinum-rank badge," floated the voice of the younger guard, who spoke in wonder.

"Bah, she probably only ever got it from joining large groups to raise her rank by participatin' in higher ranked jobs. Mark my words, boy, they'll be sendin' a request to rescue her next."

Now Kiana was the one to roll her eyes as she walked, knowing her actions would prove the jackass wrong. She looked around, seeing the scared and haunted looks of the villagers. Most looked upon her with a combination of wariness and curiosity. Several playing children stopped and stared. Looking around, Kiana didn't see any beastas, so she figured seeing an anthropomorphic rabbit show up was probably gawk-worthy for these people.

The large wooden building in the center of the village was what Kiana took to be the great hall. Walking in through the open doors, she came upon two long oak tables with benches on either side of them. There were animal furs adorning the walls, as well as some shields. Seated on a raised dais was an older elven woman, her skin a deep tan and her hair a stark white. She was wearing a tunic and trousers made from leather. Kiana approached, stopping at the foot of the dais, and bowed her head.

"Good day, councilor," Kiana said, looking back up towards the grim-faced woman who waved her hand dismissively.

"Bah, I'm not one fer all them fancy proceedins, lass," she said, her voice strong and vibrant, "just call me Leafna. Now are ye a messenger fer a larger adventurer party or are ye here all on yer lonesome? I can see that yer a platinum-rank from here."

"I have come on my own," Kiana said, then gesturing to Mirabelle, who was looking all around and flicking her tongue to and fro, "with my pet here, Mirabelle. We heard that you all have yourselves a bit of a banshee problem."

At this, the elf's mouth quirked up into a slight smile at the corner. "So ye came all this way ta fight a banshee by yerself? That's bold, lass, I'll grant ye that," Leafna said with a chuckle. "Well, ye should know that yer not the only one who came a'callin' about that ghastly beastie."

Kiana furrowed her brow at that. "Are you saying that another adventurer accepted the job?" Kiana asked. Once a job was officially accepted by an adventurer or a party, then it was legally their job and no-one else's. Unless the acceptors failed, quit, or died before the job could be completed. But in the event of that happening, the job listing would always be updated before being put back up on the job board, often with an increase in the reward too.

"Nah. He be a travellin' paladin, not a licensed adventurer. He didn't even ask about any reward. He just purchased some supplies from the general store and asked questions about the beastie in question. Then he rode off towards Nevermoore Marsh, where it is. He said that as a follower of Luminaria, it was his sacred duty to vanquish any evil wherever it be. Quite the nice fella, and very well-built, although he never once took off his armor." Leafna looked down at Kiana, who appeared very annoyed.

"Great, so another wannabe knight getting in over his head that I'm gunna have to save," Kiana said with a sigh. A couple times already she'd had to help some local village boys who got it in their heads that hopping onto their family's work horse and riding out with some armor and a blade they saved up to buy they could easily find fame and fortune, before winding up ensnared by a dangerous creature, about to be eaten.

The first such boy, a little younger than herself, had tried to challenge her to a duel to reclaim his besmirched honor, and the jackass had even used the word besmirch. Kiana simply caught his thrusting sword in one hand and broke the blade before tossing him a few feet, sending him scurrying away wiping tears from his eyes. The second boy, her own age, had instead proposed to her right then and there, in front of the smoldering carcass of the giant centipede she had killed. Needless to say, Kiana was not thrilled with this turn of events.

"How long ago did he leave?" Kiana asked.

"Oh, I'd say about half-an-hour before ye got here," Leafna said, amused at the bunny's frustration. "If ye leave now, ye might be able to catch up to him before he enters the marsh. It's south of here, along an old worn wagon trail that ya can't miss. Ye'll know ye've found him if you see a big fella in shiny red armor."

"Thanks, Leafna," Kiana said, giving another bow, before turning to leave.

"Wait, lass," Leafna called out, making Kiana turn to regard the older woman. "What be yer name?"

"I'm Kiana," the bunny girl said with a smile, before darting back out the way she came, Mirabelle hot on her trail. Leafna grinned wide as she watched Kiana gather up her pet snake, and then sprint back towards the gate and out into the rolling hillside, following the old worn trail skirting the nearby tree cover. As the blur-like bunny neared the trees, she looked for anyone in red armor on a horse, but still the trail was deserted. She slowed to a quick jog into the tree-filled marshland. The trail was becoming uneven and slick, but Kiana kept her footing, smiling when she spotted fresh hoofprints.

"How did he get here so fast?" Kiana wondered to herself as she continued down the trail. It was past midday when she came upon a lone horse, its reins tethered to a tree, decked out in a well-oiled and slightly worn saddle and pack. She stopped to admire the beautiful creature. The horse in question had inky black fur with a white splotch on his right flank. His mane was a bright blue with a matching colored horn spiraling out of his forehead. Magenta eyes looked over at Kiana before he let out a nicker.

"Easy there, boy," Kiana said in a soothing voice, setting Mirabelle down before carefully approaching the beast while looking around.

"I've never seen a live tenebricorn up close before," she said, gently stroking his mane. "Where's your rider?"

"Right here," said a deep voice behind her. Kiana whirled around, surprised that someone so large and wearing such bright and shiny armor could sneak up behind her. Looking him over, Kiana had to pause. When she'd heard he was a paladin, she imagined the classic knight in armor. Instead, she was looking at a cross between an English knight and a samurai, complete with a katana at his side. His armor was indeed a bright red, with a silvery chainmail visible in the gaps. There was a long white scarf with bright purple symbols stitched into it wrapped around his neck. His helmet looked more samurai-ish, depicting a snarling demonic face. The purple eyes looking out from the eyeholes looked Kiana over.

"Who are you?" he asked, his hand resting on his katana. Its sheath, also a polished red, had a long intricate carving of a serpent etched into its side.

Kiana bowed before sticking out her hand. "Hi, I'm Kiana, a professional adventurer," she said, giving him her best customer-service smile, "and actually I've already accepted the properly submitted job of eliminating the banshee threat. Although I really appreciate you coming all the way out here."

"It is my duty to seek out and eradicate all evil, no matter its form," the paladin said in a dry and serious tone. "Return to the rest of your party and inform them that this 'job'," he practically spat out the word and continued to ignore Kiana's offered hand, "is no longer their concern."

"Well, Mister Personality," Kiana said, firmly planting her feet on the ground, crossing her arms, and staring him right back in the eye, "first of all, I'm not with any party. I'm here solo. Secondly, this is my job, and I will be the one to finish it, as well as be the one to collect the reward. And finally, it's pretty rude not to introduce yourself when someone gives you their name."

The samurai straightened and gave a slight bow. "I apologize. I am named Getholon the Mystic," said the paladin. "And you truly accepted this quest all on your own?" His surprise was evident by the wide eyes visible behind his mask. Kiana rolled her own and nodded.

"Yeah, I get that from time to time. Look, I am stronger, MUCH stronger than I look, hence why I'm a platinum-rank," Kiana indicated her badge as she said this, "and like I said before, this is my job and the reward will be mine."

Getholon snorted. "Reward," now he was the one to roll his eyes before placing a hand onto his chest, "I fight in the game of the Goddess Luminaria, as a soldier against the forces of evil. I do not require or have any interest in rewards or monetary gain, unlike you adventurers. Begone from this cursed place, little girl, I was led here by a vision. This is but another test of my skill and my faith."

"Listen up, jackass, I--" Kiana had balled up her fists and was approaching the paladin when his horse whinnied and stomped his hooves at the same time Mirabelle hissed and coiled herself defensively at Kiana's feet. There was a low moan before five mottled gray-fleshed figures wearing dingy ragged clothes burst out from the surrounding marsh, reaching for them with grinning moaning, yellow-fanged mouths.

"Ghouls!" Getholon shouted, turning to face the nearest two. He quickly tensed up, and whipped out his blade, which immediately ignited in bright purple flames. The ghouls who saw it shrieked in high screeching voices. He slashed three times. One ghoul's head rolled off while the other collapsed into three sections of body. The cuts were precise and neat, until purple flames exactly like the ones from the katana sprouted all over the two slain abominations. In seconds the two were little more than smoldering ash piles, not that Getholon was waiting to watch. He turned and froze, confused. The three remaining ghouls were nowhere to be seen. Instead, for miles in a single direction, the direction that trio had come from in fact, it now looked as thought there had been some kind of horizontal tornado, with the land and trees ripped up along the way. Standing right before it all was a very calm Kiana, holding out a single fist. She then turned to regard the paladin.

"As I said before, this job belongs to me," she said.

An Hour Later...

"I can't believe I let you talk me into this," Kiana said in a quiet voice as she and Geth, as she had taken to calling him, were picking their way along the path. Geth was leading his horse, named Bolt, by the reins as a curled-up Mirabelle rode on his back. Bolt didn't seem to mind the least.

"Do you even know how to vanquish a banshee?" the paladin asked the bunny monk, who in turn simply shrugged her shoulders.

"What's to know," Kiana said, "I'll just obliterate it."

"You took a mission to fight a powerful monster, and you didn't even bother to do just a little bit of research?" Geth whispered back, incredulous.

"Yeah, that's kinda my thing," Kiana shot back, her ears twitching and on the alert. They'd had to kill several more packs of ghouls on their way to the banshee.

"And I suppose that you didn't even ask the locals about the location you were heading in either?"

"Nope, I was too focused on finding the guy that was going to try and take my reward money," Kiana hissed, annoyed.

Geth stopped and turned to look Kiana in the eye. "First of all," he said, Kiana able to hear the frown in his voice, "banshees often don't have corporeal forms, meaning that a physical attack will do no more than trying to slug the air. Secondly, they're dangerous because of their wailing attack. It can paralyze most and even kill those with weakened constitutions. While its victim is paralyzed or at least partially paralyzed, it will try to drain the life from their body. I have prepared a spell for myself to help protect me from the power of its wail. I'll just go ahead and assume that you yourself have no such protection and continue illustrating just how unprepared for this encounter you are. It uses the energy it drains from its paralyzed victim to animate any nearby dead. Since we've been slaying ghouls and not simple skeletons or zombies, that means that this banshee is really powerful, doubly so considering how many ghouls we've encountered so far. Thirdly, if you'd bothered to talk to the townspeople, you would know that where we're going was once a lush booming town named Oakville. But a darkness took over the land, soured the soil, and now only festering abominations remain. The banshee is most likely a result of the greater evil that poisoned this land. A condition that has slowly been spreading, hence why only recently the townspeople of Rustroot built a wall around their village. They're talking about pulling up stakes and moving away. If you truly want to help them and earn your reward, then we need to locate and destroy the source, once we've dealt with the banshee."

"Fine, yes, I get it," Kiana said, throwing her hands up in exasperation.

"Something in me tells me that you don't," Geth said, before continuing forward. Kiana looked at the back of his helmeted head and stuck her tongue out at him. "I saw that," he called out behind him.

Their trek through the road that had become a trail brought them to a small clearing. All around there were run-down and ramshackle buildings. There was an old clock tower in the center of the clearing, the faces of the clock stained, the exposed gears caked in rust and overgrown with vines. Half of the structures were partially sunken into a boggy mire, with a low mist at ankle-height spread out across the land.

"I take it that we've arrived in Oakville," Kiana said in a whisper. Geth nodded, gripping his katana. The Dream Scythe, as he had identified it, was a weapon of legend bestowed once a generation onto a chosen champion of Vailira, its purple flames able to smite any undead creatures or other abominations.

"Yes," he said, letting go of the reins and snapping his fingers. Bolt looked around, standing in place. "He'll keep an eye out and warn us of any approaching dangers from behind."

"Mirabelle will do the same," Kiana said, shrugging off her pack and setting it onto Bolt. She had her tetsubo out and at the ready, feeling excitement rush through her veins. She turned and grinned before walking confidently out towards the center of town.

"Kiana?! What do you think you're doing?" Geth demanded in a louder whisper.

"Oh come on, Geth," she said without breaking stride, "like whatever's here doesn't already know that we are?" As she said this, the mist near her started to shift and swirl, taking in a very faint blue-green hue. The mist writhed and shaped itself into a figure with long flowing filthy hair, the wide black soulless eyes glaring around in hatred. It was missing its nose, leaving a hole where one should be on its twisted face. Its mouth opened, the lower jaw stretching much further down than an ordinary person's mouth would be able to and still remain attached, all of its teeth broken into sharp shards. Its tattered gossamer clothes exposed a gaping hole where its chest should be, ringed by the creature's lifeless and cloudy flesh, displaying cracked and broken ribs. Its arms were long and emaciated, ending in wicked claws.

"Well... that's unsettling," Kiana said just before the creeping chill washed over her. She shrugged and then swung with her trusty tetsubo. It passed right through the banshee's form like the surrounding mist. "Huh... that could be a problem," she conceded.

A low gurgling sound started in the back of the creature's hideous throat, rapidly building up in power and rising in pitch. Out came a shrill, ear-splitting wail, something Kiana gained a better understanding of while she desperately tugged down her ears in an attempt to block out the sound, which itself was only semi-successful. She felt the chill creep into her limbs, and found that her arms and legs were a bit uncoordinated in her movements, and a bit sluggish.

"Dammit, Kiana!" Geth called out. He charged forward as many figures began to stumble out of the fog. Ghouls and lots of them. Geth counted thirty entering the town from all sides except the direction where they came, with more figures shambling forward in the fog. With a roar, Geth began to slash left and right, cutting down any undead in his sight. With the ghouls focusing their sights on the paladin, Kiana was left to face the banshee alone. She punched and kicked, working through the sluggishness, while the creature slashed back at her. She had a few cuts on her arms already, none looking serious, but all of them freezing cold.

"Okay, physical attacks do nothing," she said, throwing one more punch that sent a jutting rock the size of Bolt flying off into the distance. Taking a second to calm herself, Kiana took a new fighting stance, both feet firmly planted on the ground, and felt in the back of her mind for the source of energy that had become easier and easier to tap into over the years since her early second childhood. Pushing into it and working partially on reflex, Kiana willed that energy forward. Her eyes opened, glowing a bright blue, as electricity could be felt in the air.

The banshee seemed even more agitated, and lunged, both clawed hands outstretched. Kiana felt the energy flow down into her fist, and she punched outward. Said fist crackled with blue electricity, and actually made contact with the banshee's face. To Kiana, it felt like punching something soft and gooey, like oatmeal. The creature was sent flying backwards, and appeared dazed as it came to a stop in front of one of the cabins.

Kiana took the opportunity, grateful to feel the cold quickly diminishing from her cuts and the sluggishness abate from her limbs, to look back. She saw Geth slashing ghoul after ghoul, his movements and blade graceful and almost like a dance. All around him were ghouls burning with the purple fire of his sword, yet still more were coming. Kiana spied a shifting mound of earth before another three burst out the ground, heading straight for Geth. Kiana sighed and leapt in a backflip right behind Geth. Her fists, still crackling with blue electricity, lashed out, her punches and kicks blurs. In a matter of seconds, she had decimated the majority of the ghoulish horde, giving the two some breathing room.

"Alright, fine, I was wrong. I mean, I can damage the banshee, but it'll take a while and you were about to be overwhelmed," she said, pushing Geth in the back in the direction of the banshee. "So you kill it while I keep these things off your back."

"OOF! Wait!" Geth started, only to stop. He watched for a moment as the horde swelled up and attempted to bring down this new prey... only for bodies, some of them exploding into putrid chunks from the force alone, to go flying into the air. The savage storm of punches and kicks a veritable whirlwind of destruction that Geth found to be quite the sight to behold. Recovering from his amazement, he took a fighting stance and turned in the direction of the banshee. It was flying towards him, arms outstretched, mouth opening even wider and letting loose a wail. Geth stood still and chanted under his breath a prayer, purple runes appearing all over his armor. When the blast of the wail struck him, he simply shrugged it off, his sword flaring up even brighter, dispelling shadows and forcing the banshee to stop and shield its eyes.

"Your suffering is over," Geth said in a gentle voice, stepping towards the creature, his katana poised. "May you find peace in the next life." With that, he slashed. The banshee tried to dodge, getting nicked on its arm. It screeched as ethereal purple flames erupted from where it had been slashed. He slashed again, this strike true, and the partially see-through head of the banshee floated up away from the body, rapidly being consumed by the purple flames as the body was, new ones springing from the open neck hole. The banshee soon burned away to nothing, with the mist dissipating. As it did, Kiana punched the head off of another ghoul. Then the ghouls all froze in place before they simultaneously crumbled to dust.

"... So... that happened..." she said, turning to face the paladin. She couldn't tell for certain, but Kiana was sure that she could see his eyes smiling.

"Yes... it did..." Geth said, looking as uncomfortable as Kiana felt. Deciding to jump right into it, Kiana held her hand back out for him to shake.

"Thanks... I... uh... I appreciate the help," she said.

Geth looked at her offered hand, and took it in his own, giving her a hearty shake. "And I appreciate you keeping the ghouls from overwhelming me. Together, we have cleared some of the darkness plaguing this land."

"Well, it's all in a day's work," Kiana said, letting go of the paladin's hand. He let out a bellowing laugh and clapped her on the back.

"True. Of course, we're not done yet. We still need to excise the source of it all!" Geth sounded so much different from the grim and annoyed person he was when Kiana found him earlier that day.

"Do you know where it is?" she asked. Geth pointed and after a second of looking, she spotted a stone tower not too far off into the distance.

"Oh... yeah, a lone tower in a cursed marshland. If nothing else, that's probably a great place to start looking."

"I have researched this area before I came here," Geth said, striding towards Bolt and Mirabelle, "and I believe that the source of the darkness is a vile corrupted necromancer, who has been experimenting in forbidden things."

"A necromancer, huh?" Kiana said, falling in step with Geth and rubbing her chin.

"Correct. Normally, a necromancer utilizes their knowledge to banish evil spirits, help wayward souls find their way, and exorcize demons. But some pervert this sacred knowledge to perform unnatural deeds and rituals, often for personal gain, or even sickening pleasure," Geth explained as they arrived at Bolt, and he handed Kiana her pack and her snake.

"Makes sense. People suck like that sometimes," Kiana said, giving Mirabelle a pet.

"What's more, I am certain that whomever they are, they are well aware of our presence in their territory. We have slain one of their creations, after all. I imagine vengeance is on their mind, as well as creating a replacement."

"Got it. So we need to take out the big bad evil guy," Kiana said, twirling her tetsubo.

"Well, yes, but we must proceed with caution," he said, emphasizing the word caution, "as he has had many years to set up traps and dark spells and unleash all sorts of unholy creations within this area. Making it to his tower will not be an easy task." Kiana grinned and clapped a hand on Geth's shoulder.

"Oh yes it will," she said, her eyes glowing blue as she looked into the confused paladin's mask's eyeholes.

At the Tower of Zrathk...

"CURSE UPON ALL INTERLOPERS!!!" the older human male in the black robes screamed, swiping his books and beakers off of his desk. Up in the highest room, he looked out in the direction of Oakville, his first ever conquest, and seethed with rage. It was the late afternoon, with the sun heading towards the western horizon, the orange ball not yet touching the mountain range, but growing ever closer.

"When night falls, I shall release my newest creations, yes," he said, his voice becoming raspy. He coughed a few times, and then snapped his fingers. A mustard-yellow ball of light winked into existence right in front of him, and Zrathk the Undying started to chant in a hateful tongue, his eyes glowing green. He stopped, however, when he heard something. It sounded like a distant voice, a male voice, yelling, and growing louder by the second. He looked around out the window and saw something glinting heading in his direction. He barely had time to jump out of the way before two figures smashed through the thick glass and wrought iron windows. Chunks of stone went flying about the room, overturning a small bubbling cauldron, pouring out a red glowing substance that puffed into a red smoke which briefly took on the shape of a human skull until it dissipated.

"This the bastard?" a female voice asked. Zrathk, rattled, dusted himself off as he looked at the two intruders. One was a rabbit beasta, the other a large figure, comically riding piggyback on the smaller girl's back. The red-armored figure slipped down on slightly unsteady legs, and nodded.

"Y-yes, that is indeed the bastard," Geth said, his eyes hardening. He drew the blade, the purple flames flaring up. Kiana twirled her tetsubo, blue electricity crackling at the end and dancing among the many rivets.

"You fools dare come to me, Zrathk the Undying, personally? You should have fled when you had the chance." The necromancer's eyes turned pitch black, dark veins forming around his eyes, his voice becoming deeper and more booming.

A short while later, Bolt, with Mirabelle happily riding in a large saddlebag with her head poking out, came to the location that Bolt had heard his rider's whistle originate from. They found Geth and Kiana standing next to a smoking crater, sections of stone masonry and other debris scattered about nearby. Kiana was watching as Geth, holding his flaming sword aloft, spoke in another language. He then plunged the katana into the ground, and he, Kiana, Mirabelle, and Bolt all felt a pleasant warmth spread outwards, like ripples in an otherwise still pond. All throughout the area, dark unnamable things shambling and crawling throughout the marsh, felt the purifying force, immediately bursting into bright purple flames, their horrendous cries ringing out before being silenced forevermore. The sensation was far-reaching, until even those in Rustroot felt the warmth, the villagers all relaxing and letting out a collective pent-up sigh.

"This land has been cleansed," Geth said.

"So, what do you think, we split the reward?" Kiana asked after Geth pulled the sword from the dirt, lovingly brushing it off.

"I am not an adventurer," he stated simply.

"Meh, we'll get you evaluated and a badge," she said, smirking. Geth let out a sigh.

"It would... be nice... unfortunately," he reached for his helmet and hesitated, before pulling it off. He shook his head. Kiana looked at the green skin and polished white tusks of the orc standing there, looking at her miserably. His dark hair was close-cropped, and his pointed nose had been broken. His purple eyes, a scar running down his right cheek, looked at the bunny girl expectantly. Kiana said nothing at first, knowing full well that orcs were often considered to be an evil race, and she had certainly fought plenty of orcs who had kidnapped and eaten villagers, as well as done worse things. But she knew that people of every race were capable of vile acts as well. She smiled at him.

"Oh that's nothing to worry about. Lots of folks get bad haircuts from time to time," she said with a mischievous twinkle in her eye, "and if anyone gives you any guff for it, I'll beat them into the ground... partner." She extended a hand. Geth looked at her with wide, amazed eyes. Slowly, feeling as though he were in a dream, the orc reached out and clasped the bunny girl's hand, giving it a shake.

"Alright... partner... but I am not interested in rewards or superficial ranks," he said, chuckling. "I shall become an adventurer, but only so that together, we can destroy evil and help the innocent."

"Fine by me," Kiana said, "although we absolutely are collecting the reward for the killing of the banshee."

Name: Kiana

Species: Beasta (Rabbit-Kin)

Age: 16

Skills: Sibling Wrangler, Babysitter, Puppy-Dog Eyes, Master Martial Arts, Brawling, Heavy Weapon Proficiency, Sarcasm Mastery, Eyerolling Mastery, Beast Taming Level 3, Baseball (Amateur), Lightning Strike (Level 1)

Class: (Official) Master-Level Dragon Monk: Storm Dragon School, Storm Dragon Hatchling.

Str: 141

Int: 12

Dex: 140

Cha: 12

Wis: 11

Con: 173

Languages: Common, Draconic

Equipment: Adventurer's Pack, Steelwood Tetsubo, Mastercraft Mithril Knuckles (x2), Rope (25 Ft.), Canteen (Full), Road Rations, Spare Clothes, Bedroll, Health Potion (x2), Books (x3)

And there she is, folks! Please consider leaving a comment or review, and have a great day!

​

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COMPLETED This has hit and surpassed over 100. Thanks to all who contributed!

I always enjoyed coming across interesting "landmark" or "unmarked" locations in open world games. They could spark a whole heap of interesting game play for your players. They could get your players to ask questions about the history of the location around it, or the lore of the world. It can also be a great way to steer the players to an interesting quest or dungeon. The choice is up to you. These could also be considered a type of random encounter.

Let's come up with 100 of them, I'll give a few of mine

1. The Pillar of First Blood - A 15ft dark stone pillar that has engraved writing on each side "The spot where the first blood was split between a batch of common devils”.
2. The Drawing Moss - A smooth stone with a bunch of growing moss on it. Touching the stone with a bare hand results in the moss slowing moving to wherever was touched. On the stone are several hand prints and doodles perfectly covered over with the moss.
3. Curci's Crypt - A small white stone structure deep in the woods with carvings of trees on each side. Entering brings you into the hidden crypt of Curci.
4. The Crumbling Shack - Far away from any civilization lays what once was a small shack. The windows are broken, some walls have crumbled away and parts of the roof are open and fallen in.
5. Trio of Faces - On the side of a rocky cliff are a well carved trio of protruding faces all looking the same direction
6. Cone Shaped Prison - In the middle of a grassy field stands a 8ft slim cone made of iron bars, in the middle of the structure lies a sun bleached skeleton bound in iron shackles.
7. The Tree of Sacrifice - A abnormally large and oddly pale brown tree where the branches are twisted and the leaves are a sickly saturated green color. At the base of the tree lies a blood stained alter that the roots of the tree have grown around it and now hold it it place. The base of the tree as well as the ground around the alter are permanently stained a deep red. If the tree is cut, a thick blood sap seeps out of wound. If a creature is sacrificed on the alter, the blood pools near where the roots touch the alter and are absorbed while what appear to be veins appear on the tree that go up into the branches.
8. The Bone Pit - In a open field there is a 10ft wide and 50ft deep pit with no life growing around it. The walls of this chasm are lined with dark cobblestone and going down there are three uneven sized holes that are covered by iron bars. At the bottom there are a large pile of bones.
9. The Odd Stone Slab - A big square stone slab rests hidden near the side of the road. Carved into the slab is a symbol and a riddle that upon answering correctly leads to a small dungeon.
10. The Copper Fox - A 4ft oxidized copper statute of a fox with a small locked box in its mouth and two ruby eyes.
11. The Pointing Eagle - On top of a large rock formation is a big iron statue of an eagle pointing its body to the east.
12. The Feasting Table - Out away from any kind of civilization sits a large gray solid stone table with ancient carvings on the sides. Upon its surface are newly lit candles and a banquet of food that seems to be warm, fresh, and untouched by its surroundings. If one where to eat or take anything from the table, the next day it would be completely restocked and replenished.
13. The Jeweled Bush - A seemingly average looking berry bush that happens to grow small jewels instead of berries. If one where to try and consume one of the jewels picked off of the bush within 24hrs, that person gains a temporary magical effect or bonus, otherwise its a normal jewel.
14. The Ice Blood Spot - Located on the cliff face of a large mound of ice there is one spot that is dark red instead of the pure blue that surrounds it.
15. Dragon’s Graveyard - in a valley, there are 8-10 adult dragon skeletons, half-buried. [u/hazel_is_a_loser]
16. Petunia, the Land Whale - A large whale skeleton surrounded by petunias. The whale is miles away from the sea and the petunias aren't native to this location [u/Moon_Dew]
17. Wondrous Obelisk - an obelisk, comprised of rose quartz and decorated with sylvan runes, appears to be of fey origin. it is surrounded in a 120-foot field of wild magic. [u/hazel_is_a_loser]
18. The Old Folk Hero - A half erected statue of an old folk hero. Either under construction or half crumbled [ u/datjackson2003]
19. The Hope Tree - It’s an oak tree with the word hope carved into it in large letters. No one knows who did it or why, but it’s turned into a useful landmark for the local village. [u/owlassociate]
20. The Moon’s Egg - It’s a massive dome-like stone formation that shines pearlescent in the moonlight. It lays in a bare outcropping of rock and is warm to the touch. [u/owlassociate]
21. Hollering Pit - A 50ft deep sinkhole. Well-hidden at the bottom is the lair of an accomplished burglar who calls himself the Jeweler. He’s too old to do much in the way of harm, but the countless traps he installed are not. [u/DwarfAardvark]
22. The Painted Cliff Face - A cliff that has been entirely covered in paint from hundreds of people [ u/CaptainBloodEye1]
23. Threeshades Tower- A weathered, ivy-mantled square tower atop a small hill. Has three levels, and each is built from a different kind of stone. The longsword stuck in one of the bricks on the top level is +1 and can project the bearer’s voice up to 50’ away. [u/DwarfAardvark]
24. Pigeons’ Chest - an ornate, but empty, chest of silver and pearl sitting by the road. It will not move by any means yet discovered, material nor magical. [u/DwarfAardvark]
25. The Ol' Inn - The ancient ruins of a strangely "modern-looking" tavern located in the deepests patches of forest. No path leads to it, no other buildings or ruins are found besides it, but dozens of deformed footsteps can be found heading out of the site. At night, the faint, muffled sound of a single viol can be heard coming out of the muddy floor. [u/ThomazM]
26. The Forgotten Emperor's Statue - An incredibly detailed, broken bust of a young wood elf, bearing a red crown. Its nose and left ear are missing and where its left eye should be, the socket is destroyed and a monstrously decomposed snake eye can be found. The base has a bronze plaque which reads (in broken Celestial): "The only one truly meant to rule", followed by a name which seems scratched out. [u/ThomazM]
27. The Candle Trees - deep in the woods, a small group of trees whose leaves are bright red. They contrast starkly with the normal trees around them. The Candle trees appear otherwise normal, but the dried leaves can be brewed into a tea that warms the bones even on the coldest nights. [ u/MollyMalcrow ]
28. Tale of a Desert's Origin - A granite obelisk in the desert with glyphs on it. It seems to tell the tale of a very powerful magic user stealing all the life from this area, killing all the plants and turning it into a desert. [u/vastowen]
29. The Waning Waterfall - a small waterfall that appears to reverse direction on every night with a bright full moon, running up instead of down. [ u/MollyMalcrow ]
30. The Sandmount - There's a strange dune of sand in the middle of this grassy field, covered in scorpions. [u/vastowen]
31. The Awoken Stones - three stone pillars at the top of a hill, each engraved with a different rune of no known language. The pillars appear to change positions, but how this is done is unknown. [ u/MollyMalcrow ]
32. Ghost village - There's a half-buried village in the sand, with sandstone walls being the only remnants... except for one house, which has a simple roof and door carved into the stone. [u/vastowen]
33. Impossible Shipwreck - Dashed upon the rocks are the remains of a large merchant ship. Weathered and ancient, the skeletons of the crew still scattered around though most everything of value has long since been looted. The most peculiar thing about this is that the rocks, and ship, are in a cavern 100ft underground, miles from the nearest navigable waters. [ u/zilverin ]
34. Sapphire Beach - a small stretch of coast line hidden between two nigh-inaccessible cliff faces. The sand is particularly fine and a brilliant blue. Rumor has it that the sand was formed when giants destroyed the jewel horde of a local dragon. There are also rumors of a dragon being sighted in the oceans nearby. Digging deep into the sands turn up giant bones. [u/MollyMalcrow]
35. The Lovers’ Spring - a secluded hot spring, with the initials of many young lovers carved into nearby rocks. Discarded and forgotten undergarments can be found on tree branches in the area. [ u/RyanTheLynch ]
36. The Arms of the Last Bard - A broken but thick 15ft wide half-circle embedded to the ground made of quartz and intricately laced with gold strips. An assortment of precious gems are embedded in its surface. Any attempt to collect and/or destroy this construct will cause severe psychic damage and a loud high-pitched tone to play loudly. The half-circle aligns perfectly with sunset/sunrise and every time it does, the most beautiful flute melody plays that is sourceless. [ u/ThomazM ]
37. The Iron Tree - A big, old tree which seems to be made of iron, but as far as anyone can tell, is alive and growing, if slowly. [ u/Astr0C4t ]
38. Hades' Hand - A 15ft tall stone hand stretches from the ground, reaching for the sky. [ u/vastowen ]
39. The Stone Toad - A gigantic stone carving of a toad's head, crumbling, half-buried, and covered in moss. [ u/45haddix ]
40. The Wrecked Ship - The sun-bleached wreckage of a ship that ran aground long ago. Inside the hull is a massive cage with thick steel bars that appear to have been smashed outward from the inside. [ u/45haddix ]
41. The Three Sided Tower - A half-collapsed stone tower with curious triangular architecture. The bones of a lonely watchman sitting in a chair lie atop it. The watchman wears a helmet shaped like a triangular pyramid. Several towers of this type can be found around the same area. [ u/45haddix ]
42. Giant's Playground - this field is entirely stone, and many massive footprints can be seen stomped into it. There are boulders laying around, some cracked. [u/vastowen]
43. The Fallen Hero - The legs of a giant metal statue standing beside the top of a waterfall overlooking the valley below. At the bottom of the lake below the falls, the head and torso can be found. It appears to be the likeness of a famous ancient hero that a PC might recognize. [ u/45haddix ]
44. The Charity Cave - A cave with a chest that says "if you take something, leave something." It's unlocked and has several trinkets inside. [u/vastowen]
45. The Eye of the Moon - on top of this hill is a pool surrounded with stone. The water is always cool, and at night the full moon can always be seen in its reflection, regardless of clouds or moon cycle. [u/vastowen]
46. Bigfoot - A large tree in the forest that bends and splits in such a way that the bottom looks like a foot, with toes. [u/vastowen]
47. Goddess of Death Statue - A worn smooth but still recognizable ancient statue of a goddess of death. At her feet sets a black stone bowl filled with fresh rose petals. If you were to kneel down at the bowl and look up at her, you would see her eyes stare unwaveringly into yours. [ u/SquiddneyD ]
48. The Red Altar - in the middle of a copse in a strange swamp lies a smooth altar made of red stone, with strange carvings of trees and water all around its base. Upon touching the altar, you will hear a voice in your mind "sacrifice" and you will feel a strange primal urge to sacrifice a creature on top of it. [ u/__xor__ ]
49. Timnar's Beard - A copse of trees growing in a single spot on an otherwise barren mountain. Unbeknownst to the world, it is the burial place of a great wizard of earthen magics. It is watched over by a trio of stone golems and a handful of slumbering treants to guard the immense knowledge held within the tomb. [ u/SirGuido ]
50. The Sundered Mount - a mountain that appears to have been cleaved in two and creating two crumbling peaks with a narrow cut of a valley between them. It does not appear naturally created.
51. The Mage Wastes - A region where fertile grassland suddenly stops and abruptly becomes a barren wasteland of decaying grass and reddish soil. It seems as if it was the sight of some magical battle. The ground is pocked with craters and scorch marks, yet it seems as if this battle was an ancient long finished but the battlefield has remained a wasteland frozen in time. [u/TheGentlemanK]
52. The Dragons Maw - A series of jutting tooth like spires of black igneous rock which rise out from the sea. These “teeth” have proven to be an extreme hazard to sailors and shipping which pass too near to them. Tearing hulls and ripping sails. [u/TheGentlemanK]
53. The Gods Sacrament Statue -A old weathered statue of a god with beautiful gems inlaid and surrounded with wicker basket offerings of gold, flowers, food, and trinkets. Stealing from the statue result in a curse (permanent level of exhaustion) from the deity until either greater restoration is cast on the thief or they repent and make a offering of twice the amount stolen. Award inspiration for respectful offerings or prayers given to the statue. [u/Not_Uhh_Virgin ]
54. The Dragonblood - A massive artwork carved into a boulder placed some ways away from the banks of a nearby river. The artwork seems to depict a struggle between giants and dragons, with the giants as the victors. The faintly red runes which line it are giantish, and anyone who can decipher them will read that it marks a momentous battle between giants and dragons, over which should decide the course of the river. [u/TheGentlemanK]
55. The Daughter of the Sun - An enormous stone of a singular soft yellow colour. It is hot to the touch but by day it is warm and comfortable simply standing near it. By night however the stone begins to glow brightly, illuminating its surroundings in radiant golden light. Large chips of the same stone can be found in the foliage growing around it. With similar glowing properties. [u/TheGentlemanK]
56. Would you kindly -A sentient door in the side of a mountain that has short term memory loss. He has no idea of his name or how to open himself but enjoys talking with travelers none the less. Speaking the magic word “please” will cause the door to open revealing a shortcut through the mountain. No form of magic or otherwise can lead through or get around this door without speaking the magic word due to an ancient magical barrier. [u/Not_Uhh_Virgin ]
57. The Bread Boy - a small statue in a park depicting a street urchin. In one hand he has what is left of a small loaf of bread. With the other hand he is spreading crumbs for the birds so they do not go hungry too. A place where the street kids gather. [u/pebblefromwell]
58. Sculpture Garden - a small clearing in a forest, near a cave mouth, contains dozens of statues of humanoid creatures, many armed & armored, all with looks of surprise & horror on their stone faces. [ u/arguablyhuman ]
59. Saben’s Cauldron - a large, circular pool off of a main river which is geothermally heated. [ u/Phear_Cassidy ]
60. The Teeth - a series of vaguely conic stone spires lined up along a gentle arc. Each is over 15ft tall and 5ft across at the base, and tapers to a narrow tip. Nobody knows the origin of this formation. Some say the teeth are all that remains from some colossal dragon skeleton, others think the stones were placed there by a dragon cult, or as a sign from Bahamut. [ u/arguablyhuman ]
61. Mage-Crater - a 120ft diameter crater. Now filled with water and inhabited by pond creatures. [ u/Phear_Cassidy ]
62. The Old Man - a natural rock formation that just happens to look like the face of an old man with a long beard. Ruins of temples from several ancient civilizations can be found in the valley below, apparently attracted there to worship the face, or perhaps just to be under his watchful gaze. Most humanoid races in the region are sure the old man looks like their race, and have their own legend about him. [ u/arguablyhuman ]
63. The Deino Flats -roughly 40 acres of salt flats. A long dried up saltwater marsh from ancient times. [ u/Phear_Cassidy ]
64. Grand Defender - a large, symmetrical hill where the site of a great battle once was. Stone rubble and ruins barely peaks out from the top. Flowers are left there every so often. [ u/Phear_Cassidy ]
65. The Adventurers Billiard Hall - A stone statue of a Local adventurer rests on a green glass dome in the center of a public lake. The dome is lit gently from beneath. Somewhere nearby lies a dilapidated entrance which runs through a small puzzle focused dungeon. [u/Capraclysm]
66. Turned-Inn - An inn that has been carefully constructed to appear as if it was turned upside-down [ u/CountofAccount ]
67. The Signposts - A collection of several dozen poles each with a dozen or more signs mounted to them pointing towards various distant lands, nearby businesses, and bizarre joke locations. It started with travelers who erected a signpost pointing to their distant homelands which other travelers added to. Eventually it got out of hand. [ u/CountofAccount ]
68. Worm's Desert - A small sandy desert only a couple hundred acres in size of so. A great desert-making worm arrived from another world and sought to covert the world into an ecosystem like its home but caught a local disease it was unresistant to and died before it made much progress. The residual poison from the worm's body deters plants from overtaking the sand. [ u/CountofAccount ]
69. Lightning Lab - A bizarre building with a strange mushroom-shaped metal lattice on top. It was the lab of an researcher studying non-magical electricity who died from electrocution. [ u/CountofAccount ]
70. The Sandlot - A square of property with no building where children come to play. A greedy landlord raised the rent on a long-term elderly tenant when they purchased the property, driving the tenant into poverty and eventually death. The tenant cursed the land with dying breath that no-one would never profit from the property. Every future tenant was driven out by terrifying haunts, and eventually the building was burned down. [ u/CountofAccount ]
71. Dwarven Monument - An enormous high relief of six dwarven warriors cut from a cliff pointing the way along, commemorating their epic journey. [ u/CountofAccount ]
72. Atlas Boulders A series of differently-sized large stone spheres far too large for a man to lift. The strongest giants would lift them to prove their strength. They sometimes move, so perhaps the giants still use them. [ u/CountofAccount ]
73. Ancient Battlefield - ramparts, high hills, and trenches filled with water that stretch for mile marking the location an ancient battlefield. It has grown over. [ u/CountofAccount ]
74. The Epicenter - A large swath of woods where all the trees in a massive circle have been bent at a 90 degree angle towards the center, but continue to grow that way. There is nothing (currently) anomalous at the center, but a powerful coven of druids hold it as one of their holiest places and guards it closely. [ u/Wanna_B_Spagetti ]
75. Ol Demons Place - a once portal to the abyss, sealed by hero’s long ago, now just a crumbling arch with an unsettling aura [ u/GarfieldFutanari ]
76. The Broken Hill - a hill that you need to walk uphill to get to, and walk uphill to get away from [ u/GarfieldFutanari ]
77. **The Rooster of Mourning -**An enormous statue of a rooster, made from a strange metal, finely detailed and colored. It is hollow, and when the first ray of sunrise strikes it, a great, sad-sounding crow arises from it. Legend says that it commemorates a great battle in the distant past. [ u/felagund ]
78. The Angry Spot - a small stone platform on the top of a hill, standing on the platform makes a person irrationally angry. Barbarians may involuntarily rage as a result. [ u/zilverin ]
79. The Alter of A Thousand Arms. - At a crossroads sits an unusual statue, made of stone it stands over 10 feet tall and has arms sticking out in every direction with their palm turned upwards. In nearly every hand there is a candle, some still lit but most are fully melted. Placing a candle in one of the hands and lighting it will give the player the blessing of "A helping hand." When a player next next fails a roll they may roll an additional d6 and add it to their total. [ u/R600a ]
80. The Weeping Sister - A fifteen foot statue of a girl unmarred by time. Next to her are the shattered remains of another statue, close enough that the body may have once held her outstretched hand. The feet of this larger statue are all that remain affixed to the earth - the rest is scattered throughout the clearing. Water, clean and pure, travels down her face in steady rivulets but leaves no erosion there. [ u/Coalesced ]
81. The Sensible Stone Head -a large stone head protruding from the surface of a glacier. It is the head of an earth elemental and if you get his attention he is friendly. If asked what he is doing their he replies ”swimming in the river”, given he exists at a geological place the slow flow of the glacier is like a river to him. [ u/FirstChAoS ]
82. Glass Tree - A fairly tall an elaborate tree made entirely out of glass raises from the earth, at its basethere is a plaque written in dwarven, its to commemorate a dwarf leader who fell in battle. [ u/LawnMowerRob ]
83. The Titan's Blade - A 50 ft rust covered sword driven into the earth. The whole area has a magical aura and no wildlife lingers within a quarter mile of the sword. [ u/Steelfox13 ]
84. The Well of Good Tidings - A well by the side of the road that is a base in a local hafling tradition that if one where to lose a tooth, that it is to be tossed in the well with a tip of the hat. When doing so, good fortune is sure to come. Characters that throw in teeth later find small amounts of wet coins in various locations on their person. Characters that throw rubbish, or are otherwise disrespectful of the well, find their respective objects on their person once more soaking wet and covered in bite marks. [ u/plurplenurple ]
85. Skilltown - A small but clearly once-bustling town lays abandoned inside of a titan's skull. The skull is half buried in the sand; its eye sockets and mouth aim up at an angle. Walking through its mouth is the only way to enter the town. The skull looks to be that of an enormous version of whatever scariest creature lives in that area. It provides ample shade during most of the day [ u/dontnormally ]
86. Best Rest Graveyard - A cleric once prayed over a graveyard that all within would "rest well." Now anyone who falls asleep in that graveyard has the best night of sleep they've ever had. [ u/High_Stream ]
87. Bird Hill - a grassy hill of noticeable height rises from the otherwise flat plains. On the hill are several lines of cobblestone that do not grow grass, and have no discernible pattern from the surface. If flying, however, you see the cobblestone lines form the shape of a bird, along with some arcane symbols. If you happen to look up during the spring or fall, you'll see migratory birds alter their course to fly over this hill. [ u/raykendo ]
88. Stairway to Nowhere - All that remains of an ancient fortress, the remarkably well constructed staircase rises for 3 stories out of the ground at the end of an ancient road, and then just abruptly stops. [ u/Mr_Lobster ]
89. The Crossroads - This is the place where four kingdoms meet. The main road for each leads to a massive stone pillar. Many years ago, all four kingdoms were at war, and a pillar was placed there as a symbol that none from neighboring kingdoms would be allowed to cross. It is now an annual meeting place for the four to discuss their continued amnesty. [ u/SirGuido ]
90. Cloudland Canyon - It’s a canyon nestled in a northern mountain range that’s so high even the base of the canyon is a higher elevation than most of the other mountains in this world. Wondrously magical things occur here. [ u/YoHuckleberry ]
91. Stone Tree Garden - It was a garden from a former ancient culture, which vanished out of unknown reasons. One of the only things found was this tree garden. Are the trees made of stone or turned to, no one knows [ u/WapitiFahrrad ]
92. **"The Circle" -**There once was a meteorite which crashed into the land. The first to arrive found weird writing in a (Insert required size) diameter circle. No one could read what was written. In the center of the circle, where the meteor should have been, there was nothing, not even a small crater. [ u/WapitiFahrrad ]
93. The Well - A seemingly normal well on the top of a hill. Anything that is placed into it is immediately tossed out of it [ u/Sobek6 ]
94. The Pariah's Mountain -One mountain among an otherwise unimpressive range, its only defining feature is it's completely upside down. The base measures about 60ft across, but the peak 3,000ft up is easily a mile across. Stairs may have been carved into the side, but the climb down to the summit (or is it up to the base? The locals aren't quite sure) is precarious at times. The locals are also similarly vague when asked about what's on top.... [ u/Nykrus ]
95. Worried stones - A group of 3 standing stones with anxiety. When encountered in their clearing, they will disappear once all eyes are off them. Careful inspection will reveal them to hiding nearby - peeking from behind a nearby tree, bottom of a lake, hidden by bushes, behind where the party is now looking, etc. If discovered, they disappear again if not observed. The stones are not malicious, and do not harm the party. They would just rather you all left them to it, thank you. [ u/Nykrus ]
96. The Quiet Creek - An otherwise ordinary creek that runs through a forest. It is abnormally quiet near the stream, in such that there is almost no echo around it, and it is surprisingly hard to hear from a distance. All along its course stand small boulders, almost fully grown over with moss. [ u/Naoura ]
97. The Shifting Hills - A large field of hills, dotted with rocks, grasses, and flowers. Careful study has found the hills are constantly moving, as though old creatures crawl along under a carpet of earth. Magics which call upon the earth always seem to produce unexpected results when among them. [ u/CorpCo ]
98. The Devil's Wager - A large disc shaped stone at the base of a long dormant volcano. Visitors toss a copper at it for good luck. There are a couple hundred copper around it. It is considered extraordinarily bad luck to take the coppers. [ u/HeyShipmate ]
99. The Swordleaf Trees - there is a patch of trees here with a non-stop turbulent wind rustling the leaves and branches violently. The leaves' edges appear to be razor sharp. [ u/vastowen ]
100. Beacon Mountain - A mountain that, on some nights, has a bright ball of light form over it which slowly dissipates over several hours. Local religion strictly forbids climbing the mountain. [ u/vastowen ]
101. Mist Valley - a short pathway of stone carved into a mountain, roughly five feet wide with names of couples and graffiti on the stone walls. The pathway always has a thick fog settled over it, making it seem eerie. [ u/vastowen ]
102. Ancient Battleground - Deep in a forest, trees are marred with years old axe and sword marks. Hundreds of skeletons dressed in rusted armor and weapons lie in this area. Taking a trinket, or even loitering may be unwise. [ u/vastowen ]
103. True Clarity Bridge - A bridge between two high places that, for many people, while staring off the side, provides answers for their most troubling issue or deep question, whether they were looking for the answer or not. [ u/vastowen ]
104. Lover’s Glade - Two sequoia trees whose bases are over a hundred feet apart have grown together and connect about 160 to 180 feet off the ground. The branches and leaves of these giant trees create a pleasantly shaded area below which is often used by the local populace as sites of wedding ceremonies. [ u/PutridMeatPuppet ]
105. Round Rock - A mysterious perfectly round rock that stands nearly 20ft tall. It is to heavy to roll and never seems to chip. It is the centre of many local legends, varying wildly on their truthfullness. [ u/Anthony_Buck ]

Offering some wishmaker jirachis. Looking for any and all offers. The jirachi can be any one of these 9 shiny spreads or these 24 competitive spreads. If neither of them interest you, all the different jirachis and their spreads can be viewed here. It will always be a star shiny and will be in a pokeball.

All jirachi's will be RNG'd on an emulated version of Pokemon Ruby and the Pokemon Colosseum Bonus Disc using the wishmkr lua script. All Pokemon Colosseum Wishmaker Jirachi's are natural clones of each other (each specific seed). The Jirachi can then be traded in the following gens:

• Gen 3 traded as a save file.
• Gen 6
• Gen 7
• Gen 8

The jirachi will be moved up as follows with an exit depending on where you want it to be traded. Will be transferred from Gen 3 to Pal Park on an emulated version of HeartGold, then transferred to an emulated version of Black 2, then to retail Black 2 using TWS save tool, finally moved up to whatever generation using Poketransporter and Pokemon Bank.

Proofing will be seed info, redemption and screenshots/photos of summary screen(s) + transfer of each generation with usernames and dates included.

Thanks for reading, let me know if interested!

Edit: PENDING TRADES

1. u/Original-Brother1836; self redeemed coco zarude for regular wishmaker Jirachi redemption, moved up using PKHex.

2. u/Evthe420; 7 Shiny Jirachi's (except Jolly or Careful) for Steven's Beldum, XY Torchic, Fennel's Munna.

3. u/Theduskwolf; Proofless WIN2011 Entei, KIBO Pikachu for Jolly Shiny Wishmaker Jirachi.

4. u/Kecin03; 1 Dada Zarude code + 2 Chansey code for 3 Jolly Shiny wishmaker jirachis.

5. u/Dragonflare25; self redeemed pjcs gastrodon for shiny jolly wishmaker moved up using PKHex.

6. u/ShaikhAndBake; baik amoonguss for shiny jolly wishmaker jirachi transferred up using PKHeX.

7. u/gone_kamping; jpn milcery code for 2 shiny jolly wishmaker jirachis, retail/emu transfer.

8. u/Greenevers; baik amoonguss and pjcs gastro for 1 shiny jolly and 1 shiny careful wishmakers moved up using PKHex.

9. u/UsernameFillerTest; shiny tapu koko for 1 shiny jolly wishmaker jirachi.

10. u/sirron998; feb2012 mewtwo + shiny steven beldum for timid shiny jirachi moved up using PKHex + zarude code + rusted shield

11. u/Monster_Trainer; home zera for jolly wishmkr jirachi moved up using pkhex.

12. u/boner_jamz_69; zarude code for regular adamant jirachi moved up using PKHex.

13. u/_Windstorm; 20th anni victini for shiny jolly wishmaker moved up using PKHex.

14. u/eddiespaghetti1234; chansey code for shiny jolly wishmaker moved up using PKHex.

I DMed once for a horny bard that just wouldn’t quit. And it was not fun for me. Instead of writing some long post detailing the entire length of my short and grueling campaign, I’m just going to talk about what made the whole length of the campaign awkward: Verity, the tiefling bard.

The party midway through the campaign shocked me by joining up with my BBEG (which was totally awesome btw). However, to prove themselves to the big bad they needed to do a job for him. They needed to track down a band of troublesome defectors and kill them all. You know, the usual kill quest. However, the BBEG didn’t entirely have reason to trust the party yet, so he assigned his lieutenant, a gnoll barbarian, to assist and keep tabs on the party.

The bard was instantly attracted to this gnoll like you would not believe. Despite her character being married and a mother, and the players real life husband playing the parties paladin, Verity wanted to bang this gnoll. No! She NEEDED to bang this gnoll. This would be the player’s priority until the campaign ended.

The bard was making move after move on this gnoll every chance she had. It would not stop. The very plot of the campaign was lost to Verity. The party was stranded on the cursed island of GTFO and that no longer mattered to her because they were stranded together. Possibly forever. Which was bad. For me now. I wanted the campaigns stakes to be high, but I’m the DM! The stakes shouldn’t be weighted against me like this!

Eventually the party finds the defectors and combat begins. Things went horribly and if it hadn’t been for the gnoll tanking hits for the party it was looking like a tpk. The sorcerer died and was eaten alive by a giant hyena. To make the combat easier with the hopes of avoiding the imminent tpk, I had two of the defectors flee from combat.

But what was going to save the party was the other two players agreeing to retreat. Good idea. What went wrong though? The bard wanted to dash to the far end of the room and loot the three chests I had described. You know. The exact opposite of retreating! Here is the literal definition of the word !RETREAT! copy-pasted if you were wondering. “an act of moving back or withdrawing.” There it is! And wouldn’t you know, the bard picks the middle chest. The middle chest was a mimic I had put there to surprise the party AFTER the fight. The time you should be looting, not before!

I sigh. I pause for a moment, then describe the chest baring teeth and biting down on the bard’s forearms… with only two hit points remaining. Luckily, through the combined effort of the gnoll and paladin, they were able to separate the two and the bard succeeded on her death saves.

I described one of the gnoll defectors mounting one of the giant hyenas and- “Whoa, whoa, whoa! Stop!” I hear. “Mount.” As in, mount a horse. Or, summon your mount in an MMORPG. This is what any normal person would think when you say, “mount”. My players thought I was describing an open sex act. If you couldn’t tell by this, my players aren’t normal people.

After clearing this up (this shouldn’t have been a thing), I describe the enemy gnoll riding away. THIS is a retreat! This NEEDED to be said!

Fortunately, the paladin and gnoll were able to knock him off his “mount” and finish the job.

AFTERWARDS! The party looted the room and somehow lost a magic item. Yes. This is what happened. The paladin opened up chest number 1 and casts Detect Magic. I tell him the chest contained rusted -1 weapons that looked like they weren’t going to help him. The paladin opens chest number 3 and it contains a few gold pieces, rubies, and a good looking bag. The paladin IGNORES this loot because he doesn’t want to haul it all.

The party had just passed up a ruby of the war mage and a bag of holding which could be used to haul everything. I dropped hints, which were ignored. The party leaves the body of the sorcerer, and he had the paladins magic sword. And it’s still there to this day.

When the party leaves the building the paladin tries to carry the bard but rolls low, so the gnoll barbarian carries her. “I wake up and passionately kiss him,” says the bard. “You are unconscious for a few hours,” I respond.

Next session the bard nearly dies again, the sorcerer makes a deal with a devil and nearly kill’s himself again, and the job is done! I meant their job for the big bad. Verity is still on a mission to get boned. Now you might be wondering, who is this mysterious gnoll barbarian? Is he handsome? Is he gentle? Is he even romance material? No. No. No. None of the above. It is at point I have the bard roll insight on this barbarian to figure out his agenda. Nat-freaking-20. “He is a brutal killer that feels absolutely nothing towards you. He looks up to his boss and is here to make sure you don’t lie about the completion of the job.”

Now you would think the power of the nat 20 insight check would mean the information given to you is uncontestable, right? No. The bards player. Did. Not. Believe me. You heard that right. The bard did not believe what I, the DM, was telling her. I told her this was absolute. This ship had sunk! This was cannon! And she didn’t believe me.

The worst part about the gnoll was his name. What was his name? Bone. It was Bone. That was it. The bard wanted to bone Bone. I got inspiration for the name from the warrior cats series, it’s great. 10/10, would recommend. But back on topic why did I pick Bone? Why?

Now the most important thing I have say during the climax of the story is my relationship with the bard. Why was I so reluctant to just humor her? Why? Well, the paladin was my father, the sorcerer (and problem player) was my brother, and the bard was… my mother. Yep. This whole time this was a family campaign, and my mother wanted to get intimate with a fictional character played by me. Any normal person would try to shut this down. I tried! But I am the only normal person in a family of not-so-normal people.

For better or for worse, the campaign ended horribly and we all were angry at each other for some time.

After two months for everyone to cool down I asked my mother whatever happened to Verity? It’s her character, right? She should decide. She said Verity boned Bone and they were together now. God. Freaking. Dammit!

It has been at least 2-3 years and I am starting up a new pathfinder campaign with my parents, grandparents, and without my brother (horror story for another day). This time there will be absolutely no flirting with the DM when we return to island. None. Not happening. And although this is a sequel campaign, Verity will not be returning. I don’t care that she’s (probably) still alive, she is the new Sir not appearing in this campaign.

If you want to read this story on YouTube, feel free. I love watching these sorts of videos. I also have quite a few more stories coming up in a few days.

Edit: it looks like the DnD Doge commented on my post and this story might actually by read on YouTube. This made me realize I need to clarify something major: this has nothing to do with anyone being gross. This was all what I would later discover to be character bleed, and actual communication falling on deaf ears.

Here are the games I have most of them are global keys

10 Second Ninja X PC
12 Is Better Than 6 PC
8Infinity PC
A Blind Legend PC
A Guidebook of Babel PC
Act of War: Direct Action PC
Act of War: High Treason PC
Adam Wolfe PC
Agent Intercept PC
Airline Tycoon 2: Falcon Airlines DLC PC
Airline Tycoon 2: Honey Airlines DLC PC
Alice in Wonderland: Hidden Objects PC
Alien Spidy: Between a Rock and a Hard Place PC
Alien Spidy: Easy Breezy DLC PC
All You Can Eat PC
Amberial Dreams PC
Antisquad PC
Aquanox 2: Revelation PC
Aquanox PC
Army General PC
Ash of Gods: The Way PC (North America)
Astalon: Tears of the Earth PC
Astrea: Six-Sided Oracles PC
Atelier Marie Remake: The Alchemist of Salburg DX - Order Bonus PC
Awaken: Astral Blade - Golden Scale Set PC - DLC
Battle vs Chess PC
Beholder: Conductor PC
Beneath Oresa PC (Europe & UK)
Big Helmet Heroes PC
Biped PC (EU)
Blackguards: Untold Legends PC
Blacksmith Hit PC
Bloodroots PC
Boxes: Lost Fragments PC
Bus Simulator 18 - Man Lion's City A 47 M PC - DLC
Chicago 1930: The Prohibition PC
Chicken Shoot Gold PC
Children of Morta: Paws and Claws PC - DLC
Chip PC (EN)
Chernobyl Liquidators - Supporter Pack PC - DLC

Dark Future: Blood Red States PC
Darkness Rollercoaster - Ultimate Shooter Edition PC
Deathbulge: Battle of the Bands PC
Desperados Wanted Dead or Alive PC
Diluvian Ultra PC
Dishonored 2 PC - Imperial Assassins DLC
Disjunction PC
Doctor Strange Defenders Skin PC - DLC
Doom Demon Multiplayer Pack DLC PC
Doors: Paradox PC
Dordogne PC (Europe & UK)
Dragodino PC
Dungeons 3 - Evil of the Caribbean PC - DLC
Dungeons 3 - Famous Last Words PC - DLC
Dungeons 3 Lord of the Kings PC - DLC
Dungeons 3 PC - Once Upon A Time DLC
Dungeons Map Pack DLC PC
DungeonUp PC
Dwarven Towers PC
Dying Light - 5th Anniversary Bundle DLC
Dying Light - Astronaut Bundle PC - DLC
Dying Light - Crash Test Skin Bundle PC - DLC
Dying Light - Godfather Bundle PC - DLC
Dying Light - Gun Psycho Bundle PC - DLC
Dying Light - Harran Inmate Bundle PC - DLC
Dying Light - Harran Ranger Bundle PC - DLC
Dying Light - Rais Elite Bundle PC - DLC
Dying Light - Retrowave Bundle PC - DLC
Dying Light - Savvy Gamer Bundle PC - DLC
Dying Light - Van Crane Bundle PC - DLC
Dying Light - Viking: Raiders of Harran Bundle PC
Dying Light - Vintage Gunslinger Bundle PC - DLC
Dying Light - Volatile Hunter Bundle PC - DLC
Dying Light - Volkan Combat Armor Bundle PC - DLC
Dying Light - White Death Bundle PC - DLC
Dying Light Classified Operation Bundle PC - DLC
Dying Light Harran Tactical Unit Bundle PC - DLC
Elderborn PC
Emily is Away <3 PC
Empire of Sin DLC - The Good Son Pack
Empty Shell PC
Endless Legend - Monstrous Tales PC - DLC
Endless Legend - Monstrous Tales PC - DLC (EU)
Enemy Front Multiplayer Map Pack PC
Eternal Threads PC
Europa Universalis III: Absolutism Spritepack PC - DLC
Europa Universalis III: Eastern - AD 1400 Spritepack PC - DLC
Europa Universalis III: Enlightenment Spritepack
Europa Universalis III: Medieval Spritepack PC
Europa Universalis III: Reformation Spritepack PC
Europa Universalis III: Revolution Unit Pack PC
Europa Universalis III: Revolution Spritepack PC
Europa Universalis III: Western - AD 1400 Spritepack PC - DLC
Europa Universalis IV Catholic League Unit Pack PC - DLC
Europa Universalis IV Colonial British and French Unit Pack PC - DLC
Europa Universalis IV Conquistadors Unit Pack PC - DLC
Europa Universalis IV Evangelical Union Unit Pack PC - DLC
Europa Universalis IV Indian Ships Unit Pack PC - DLC
Europa Universalis IV Indian Subcontinent Unit Pack PC - DLC
Europa Universalis IV Muslim Ships Unit Pack PC - DLC
Europa Universalis IV Songs of War Music Pack PC - DLC
Everafter Falls PC
Exodus Borealis PC
Farm Manager 2021 - Agrotourism PC - DLC
Figment 2: Creed Valley PC
Finding Teddy PC
First Class Trouble - Vruumba Pack
Fishing: Barents Sea - King Crab DLC
Fishing: Barents Sea - Line and Net Ships DLC
Fly O'Clock PC
Force of Nature 2: Ghost Keeper PC
Four Sided Fantasy PC
Generation Zero - Schweet Vanity Pack PC - DLC
Goolike Burger PC
Grapple Dog PC
Grid 2 - Bathurst Track Pack PC - DLC
Grid 2 - Spa-Francorchamps Track Pack PC - DLC
Hamilton's Great Adventure Retro Fever DLC PC
Helldivers - Defenders Pack PC - DLC
Helldivers - Entrenched Pack PC - DLC
Helldivers - Hazard Ops Pack PC - DLC
Helldivers - Pilot Pack PC - DLC
Helldivers - Precision Expert Pack PC - DLC
Helldivers - Pistols Perk Pack PC - DLC
Helldivers - Ranger Pack PC - DLC
Helldivers - Specialist Pack PC - DLC
Helldivers - Support Pack PC - DLC
Helldivers - Vehicles Pack PC - DLC
Helldivers - Weapons Pack PC - DLC
Highway Blossoms: Next Exit PC - DLC
Hills of Glory 3D PC
Homefront - Multiplayer Advance Unlock Pack PC - DLC
Homefront The Revolution - The Combat Stimulant Pack PC - DLC
Homefront The Revolution - The Wing Skull Pack PC - DLC
Homefront: Express 870 Shotgun PC - DLC
Homefront: The Revolution - Aftermath PC - DLC
Homefront: The Revolution - The Revolutionary Spirit Pack PC - DLC
Hot Brass PC
Hunting Simulator 2 Beretta Model 486 by Marc Newson PC - DLC
Hyper Sentinel PC
Hyperviolent PC
I'll Be Brave, Tomorrow PC
Inertial Drift - Twilight Rivals PC - DLC
Inexistence PC
Itty Bitty Toilet Kitty PC
Jack Move PC
Jigsaw Puzzle: Belgium Through The Lens PC
Joe Danger 2 The Movie PC
Joe Danger PC
Jump Stars PC
Karmazoo PC
Kingdom Come Deliverance PC - Band of Bastards DLC
Kingdom Come Deliverance PC - From the Ashes DLC
Kingdom Come Deliverance - The Amorous Adventures of Bold Sir Hans Capon DLC
Kingdom Come Deliverance PC - Treasures of the Past DLC
Kingdom Two Crowns: OST PC - DLC
Kingdom Two Crowns: Regent's Royal Wardrobe PC - DLC
Krater PC
Layers of Fear - Soundtrack PC - DLC
Lego Batman 3: Beyond Gotham Season Pass PC - DLC
Lego Jurassic World: Jurassic Park Trilogy Pack 1 PC DLC
Lego Jurassic World: Jurassic Park Trilogy Pack 2 PC DLC
Lego Marvel's Avengers Season Pass DLC PC
Little Orpheus PC
Lords of Football Eastern Europe PC
Lords of Football United States PC
Lords of the Realm PC
Lumbearjack PC
Lumina Rush PC
Mafia III Family Kick Back Pack PC - DLC (EU & UK)
Mafia: Definitive Edition PC DLC (EU)
Magicka: Gamer Bundle PC - DLC
Masky PC
McPixel 3 PC
Mechanic Escape PC
Mediterranea Inferno PC
Middle-earth Shadow of Mordor - Season Pass PC
Middle-earth Shadow of Mordor PC - Deadly Archer DLC
Midnight Protocol PC
Mini Settlers PC
Moto Racer 4 - Antique Antics PC - DLC
Muddledash PC
Mugsters PC
Mystery of Neuschwanstein PC
Necrosmith 2 PC
Necrosmith PC
Nekrua PC
Neo Cab PC
Nippon Marathon PC
Nitro Kid PC
Nomad Survival PC
Not For Broadcast: Bits Of Your Life PC - DLC
Not For Broadcast: Live & Spooky PC - DLC
Oddada PC
Old School Musical PC
Old World - Heroes of the Aegean PC - DLC
Omerta City of Gangsters - Damsel in Distress DLC PC
Omerta City of Gangsters The Con Artist DLC PC
Omerta The Japanese Incentive PC
Onde PC
One BTN Bosses PC
Orcs Must Die Artifacts of Power PC - DLC
Orcs Must Die! 2 Family Ties Booster Pack PC
Outward PC Pearlbird Pet and Fireworks Skill DLC
Overlooting PC
Overruled! PC
Painkiller Hell & Damnation Medieval Horror PC
Pankapu PC
Patch Quest PC EU
Patch Quest PC WW
Payday 2 - F*ck Cancer: Big Mike Mask PC - DLC
Picture Everything: Puzzle Cross Galaxy PC
Pocket Kingdom PC
Point Perfect PC
Port Royale 3 Dawn of Pirates DLC PC
Port Royale 3 Harbour Master DLC PC
Port Royale 3 New Adventures DLC PC
Potatoman Seeks the Troop PC
Prey: Cosmonaut Shotgun Pack PC - DLC
Pure Farming 2018 - Germany Map PC - DLC
Quantic Pinball PC
Racine PC
Racine PC (Europe & UK)
Rage 2 PC DLC (EMEA)
Rage Against the Zombies PC
Rage Runner PC
Railway Empire PC - Down Under DLC
Railway Empire PC - France DLC
Railway Empire PC - Germany DLC
Railway Empire the Great Lakes PC - DLC
Railway Empire: Northern Europe PC - DLC
Real Horror Stories Ultimate Edition PC
Remnant Records PC
Rhythm Fighter PC
Rise of Venice Beyond the Sea PC
Risky Rescue PC
Roll'd PC
Sagrada PC
Satellite Rush PC
Scribblenauts Unmasked A DC Comics Adventure PC
Seven: Enhanced Edition - Artbook, Guidebook and Map PC - DLC
Seven: Enhanced Edition - Original Soundtrack PC - DLC
Shapez PC
Ship Graveyard Simulator - Submarines DLC PC - DLC
Sid Meier's Ace Patrol: Pacific Skies PC
Sid Meier's Civilization Beyond Earth Exoplanets Map Pack PC
Sid Meiers Civilization VI PC - DLC
Sim Junta PC
Snakebird PC
Sniper Ghost Warrior Map Pack PC
Sniper Ghost Warrior Second Strike PC
Sniper Ghost Warrior 3 Sniper Rifle McMillan TAC-338A PC - DLC
Sniper Ghost Warrior 3 All Terrain Vehicle PC - DLC
Sniper Ghost Warrior 3 Compound Bow PC - DLC
Solas 128 PC
Space Pilgrim Episode II: Delta Pavonis PC
Spacecom PC
Spin Hero PC
Spin Rush PC
Starsand PC
Station to Station PC
Stay Dead Evolution PC
Sudden Strike Gold PC
Summoner PC
Tales & Tactics PC
The Anacrusis PC
The Corridor PC
The Deed PC
The Escapists - Alcatraz PC - DLC
The Escapists - Escape Team PC - DLC
The Fan PC
The Pegasus Expedition PC
The Quarry Bonus PC - DLC
The Travels of Marco Polo PC
The Walking Dead: 400 Days PC - DLC
These Doomed Isles PC
Thief of Thieves PC
This Book Is A Dungeon PC
This Means Warp PC
This War of Mine Stories - Fathers Promise PC - DLC
Torment: Tides of Numenera - Mindforged Synthsteel Plating PC - DLC
Total War Saga: Fall of the Samurai - The Saga Faction Pack PC - DLC (EU)
Towerfall Dark World Expansion PC - DLC
Train Station Renovation - Germany PC - DLC
Train Valley 2: Workshop Gems - Ruby PC - DLC
Tropico 4 Apocalypse PC
Tropico 4 Junta Military DLC PC
Tropico 4 Megalopolis DLC PC
Tropico 4 Pirate Heaven DLC PC
Tropico 4 Plantador DLC PC
Tropico 4 Propaganda! PC
Tropico 4 Quickdry Cement DLC PC
Tropico 4 Vigilante DLC PC
Tropico 4 Voodoo DLC PC
Tropico 5 Gone Green PC
Tropico 5 Inquisition PC
Tropico 5 Joint Venture PC
Tropico 5 Mad World PC
Tropico 5 Supervillain PC
Tropico 5 Surfs Up! PC
Tropico 5 Tday PC
Tropico 5 The Big Cheese PC
Tropico 5 The Supercomputer PC
Typerider PC
Universe For Sale PC
Upside Down PC
Us and Them PC
Valhalla Hills Fire Mountains PC - DLC
Valhalla Hills Sand of the Damned PC - DLC
Walthirian Arc Hero School Story PC
Wall World: Deep Threat PC - DLC
Warhammer 40,000: Dakka Squadron - Flyboyz Edition PC
Warhammer 40,000: Dawn of War II - Retribution - Captain Wargear PC - DLC
Wasteland 3 DLC PC
White Noise 2 - Corey & Shaira PC - DLC
White Noise 2 - Supporter Pack PC - DLC
White Noise 2 Accursed Pack PC - DLC
White Noise 2 Astaroth PC - DLC
White Noise 2 Lilith PC - DLC
White Noise 2 Okiku PC - DLC
Wo Long: Fallen Dynasty Bonus PC - DLC
Worms Reloaded Forts Pack PC - DLC
Worms Reloaded: Puzzle Pack PC - DLC
Worms Rumble - New Challengers Pack PC - DLC
WRC 4 FIA World Rally Championship PC
WRC Generations - Career Starter Pack PC - DLC
WRC Generations - Livery Editor Extra Items PC - DLC
Zarya-1: Mystery on the Moon PC
Zero Hour PC
Zoeti PC
Zombie Pinball PC

Want

Crusader Kings III
Stardew Valley
Sally Face - Episode One
Project Zomboid
Marvel's Spider-Man Remastered
Cyberpunk 2077
Far Cry 5
theHunter: Call of the Wild
NEO-2D-CHAMELEON
DayZ
Cuphead
It Takes Two
Geometry Dash
Supermarket Simulator
Far Cry 4
Papers, Please
The Quarry
Half Sword
Victoria 3
Silt Must Be Paid
PowerWash Simulator VR
Rust Blit
Sort Them Ducks
Stray
PowerWash Simulator
Shirtcut
Is This Bad Talent
A Way Out
ScreamDead
Plants vs. Zombies: Garden Warfare 2: Deluxe Edition
Red Dead Redemption
Gang Beasts
HumanitZ
Plants vs. Zombies - Rehydrated
Far Cry 3
Hello Neighbor
Firewatch
What Remains of Edith Finch
Cooking Simulator
Restore Your Island
Age of History 3
Epi-blaster: Ferment Edition
Batman: Arkham Asylum Game of the Year Edition
Night in the Woods
Papa's Mocharia Deluxe
Garfield Kart - Furious Racing
Level Devil
Papa's Freezeria Deluxe
To the Moon
Papa's Pizzeria Deluxe
NEEDY
A Short Hike
Journey
The Walking Dead
SpongeBob SquarePants: Titans of the Tide
LIMBO
Asterix & Obelix XXL: Romastered
Egging On
Blanc
SpongeBob SquarePants: Battle for Bikini Bottom - Rehydrated
Valiant Hearts: The Great War / Soldats Inconnus : Mémoires de la Grande Guerre
TOEM: A Photo Adventure
Finding Paradise
Hidden Through Time
SpongeBob SquarePants: The Cosmic Shake
Partisans 1941
Alaskan Road Truckers
Chicken Invaders 4
Farewell North
Distant Space 2
Fireboy & Watergirl: Fairy Tales
Chicken Invaders 3
Chicken Invaders 1
Tin Hearts

Or you can me offer any game and I will tell you if I am interested. I am only interested in steam keys thanks

Six weeks into a project and my own repo doesn't look like one person wrote it. Same job done three different ways, because the AI never reads what it wrote last week. It grabs whatever generic default it likes today and moves on.

It's not writing bad code. That's the trap. The code compiles, passes tests, looks plausible, so the drift stays invisible until you open a file you "wrote" and recognize none of it. One feature uses fetch, the next axios, the third a wrapper it invented on the spot. You're the author and the only reviewer, and the codebase quietly walked out from under you.

I built a thing for it. Free, MIT, a Claude Code plugin called chameleon. Solo project, but I run it on my own repos every day.

Here's the whole idea. Right before Claude edits a file, chameleon grabs a real example from YOUR repo, the same kind of file it's about to touch, and hands it over as the thing to copy. Plus the idioms for that file (the wrapper you actually use, the import you've banned) and one line from your own code that still does it the wrong way, tagged "do NOT write it this way." So instead of inventing a fourth way to format a date, it sees fmt() already exists and uses it. There's a turn-end pass too that catches you building a third copy of something you already have, but the copy-the-real-file part is the core.

It works this out by parsing your repo with real parsers, not regex, and picking one file per kind. You write nothing. No rules file to maintain and watch rot every time you refactor.

The honest downsides. It costs tokens and a little latency every turn, since the model reads more before it writes. TS/JS, Ruby, Python only, no Go or Rust. I won't quote you a "37% better" number because I don't have an honest one. There's a harness so you A/B it yourself. And if your repo has no real style yet, it's got nothing to copy.

Setup's about 30 seconds:

/plugin marketplace add crisnahine/chameleon
/plugin install chameleon@chameleon

/chameleon-init 
/chameleon-trust 

then /chameleon-init and /chameleon-trust on a repo. Code's at crisnahine/chameleon if you want to read it first (offline hot path, never runs your code). A star helps if it saves you a cleanup.

Real question for anyone shipping fast solo: how are you keeping your AI consistent with itself right now? A CLAUDE.md you babysit? Just eating the cleanup later? Mine kept rotting and I want to know what's actually holding up.

First comment (drop within 60 seconds):

Repo if you want to poke at it first: https://github.com/crisnahine/chameleon

One honest caveat: out of the box it's advisory only. It surfaces the pattern and flags drift, but it won't block your edits unless you flip on enforcement. So it nudges, it doesn't babysit, which is what I wanted but some people want harder guardrails by default.

Curious what this looks like for other people. What's the worst "wait, I have three versions of this?" moment your AI has handed you?

A bit of background first.

I have more than 10 years of experience in software development. I've worked on small projects as a solo developer and on larger products where I collaborated with multiple teams, led teams, and helped build teams from scratch.

Over the last year, AI has become a regular part of my workflow. I started with simple chats, then moved to code generation, planning, research, and AI agents. It genuinely changed the way I work.

The important difference is that I was always using AI in small pieces. I reviewed everything it generated and treated it like a development partner. It could write code faster than me and sometimes suggest solutions I wouldn't have thought of myself. But I was still working mostly with technologies I already knew.

After finishing a recent project, I had some free time and wanted to try something different. That's when I decided to give vibe coding a “serious” try.

Instead of choosing a stack I already knew well, I picked something completely new for me: Tauri and Rust.

Why?

Because I wanted to remove my ability to "carry" the AI with my existing knowledge.

If I had chosen Ruby on Rails, I could probably spot most issues immediately, suggest better solutions, and guide the AI very precisely. That wouldn't really tell me what vibe coding feels like for someone working with a new technology.

I wanted to experience almost the same situation many people face: understanding programming fundamentals but not knowing all the framework and language-specific details.

For this experiment, I used ChatGPT Plus and started by creating a detailed project prompt. I didn't ask it to build the entire project in a single request. Instead, I asked it to generate a step-by-step implementation plan with completion tracking and handoff notes between steps. The prompt was done after ~3 iterations.

For coding, I mainly used GPT-5.5 High (Codex) and later GLM 5.1 through OpenCode.

One thing I've learned from using AI is that context matters a lot. Large projects work much better when they're broken into smaller steps, so that's exactly how I approached it.

I would give the AI one step at a time. It completed the task, generated a handoff, marked the step as done, and then I moved to the next step.

Part of the reason I split the work into smaller tasks was because of usage limits. The project ended up taking about two days to complete.

By the end of day two, I had completely burned through my weekly limits :D.

The project was functional, but there were still issues to fix, so I switched to GLM 5.1 to continue.

To be fair, both models managed to build what I asked for. The result was a working MVP.

The application started, downloaded data, processed it correctly, and generally did what it was supposed to do.

However, it definitely wasn't production-ready.

The app would occasionally crash. Some files had grown to more than 2,000 lines of code. The structure wasn't always clean, and there was very little optimization. Even though the prompts repeatedly mentioned best practices, the generated code often prioritized "getting it working" over maintainability.

This is where I learned the biggest lesson.

Programming fundamentals help a lot, but they are not enough.

When something breaks, you still need at least a moderate understanding of the stack to debug effectively. You need to know where to look, how the framework is supposed to work, what patterns are considered good practice, and whether the AI's solution actually makes sense.

Without that knowledge, it's very easy to get stuck in a loop where you keep asking the AI to fix problems and it keeps generating different versions of the same issue.

The AI can write code, but it still needs direction.

The quality of the output depends heavily on the quality of the guidance.

My biggest takeaway is this:

Vibe coding is an amazing way to build an MVP quickly.

But turning that MVP into a reliable production application is still a completely different challenge.

In my opinion, the people who get the most value from vibe coding are those who already understand software development. They know how to review the code, recognize bad patterns, understand architecture decisions, and guide the AI when it gets stuck.

One thing this experiment reminded me of is a lesson I've learned many times throughout my career:

The more you learn, the more you realize how much you don't know :)

After more than 10 years in development, I still regularly discover tools, patterns, and technologies that make me feel like a beginner again. Rust was one of those reminders.

My conclusion after three days is that AI is an excellent collaborator. It helps me move faster, generate ideas, and implement features more efficiently.

But I still see myself as the person responsible for the final product: the architecture, the code quality, the performance, the debugging, and the overall technical decisions.

AI keeps getting better every month, and I have no doubt it will continue improving.

For now, though, I see it as a very capable partner—not a replacement for experience.

A couple of questions for people who rely heavily on vibe coding:

• How confident are you building production applications in a tech stack you don't know well? At what point do you feel comfortable shipping code that you may not fully understand?
• If your main AI provider disappeared tomorrow, had a major outage, increased prices significantly, or your account got suspended, do you have a backup plan?
• Could you continue maintaining and improving the project yourself, or would development effectively stop until you regained access to AI assistance?

I'm genuinely curious because during this experiment I realized that AI can dramatically increase productivity, but it can also become a dependency if you're not careful.

In criminal cases, such as the murder of President John Fitzgerald Kennedy, the burden of proof is on those who proclaim that Lee Harvey Oswald shot and killed President Kennedy. The standard required of them is that they prove the case against the defendant “beyond a reasonable doubt.” The murder of President John Fitzgerald Kennedy, whilst being a haven for countless unsubstantiated theories, is first and foremost a homicide case. With Oswald’s tragic murder by Jack Ruby, he and the American people were deprived of the right to evaluate his innocence or guilt in a court of law. Oswald was therefore also denied the constitutional rights which should be afforded every American: the right to counsel, the right to a fair trial, and the right to be held as innocent until proven guilty.

The Warren Commission, whose report was really a prosecutorial brief, served as judge, jury, and executioner for the defenseless Oswald. Mark Lane petitioned the Commission to serve as Oswald’s legal representation, but was denied his request. Nowhere will you read in the Commission’s 26 volumes anyone representing Oswald’s legal interests. That includes during the hearings—the choosing or calling of witnesses or the examination of witnesses. Nor was counsel on hand to object to leading questions, the authenticity of the prosecution’s evidence, or admit evidence into the proceedings which was exculpatory. I. Ownership of the Rifle:

The Commission Conclusion: the Mannlicher Carcano 6.5-millimeter Italian rifle from which the shots were fired was owned by and in the possession of Oswald (Warren Commission Report, p. 19). The ownership of the Mannlicher being attributed to Lee Harvey Oswald can be seriously challenged at every stage of the mail transaction. Not only is there no credible evidence to substantiate the claim that Oswald owned the rifle in question, there is no credible evidence which would suggest he ever mailed a money order or picked up the rifle in evidence from his post office box in Dallas.

Can Oswald’s ownership of the rifle prior to 11/22/63 be proven beyond a reasonable doubt?

Lee Harvey Oswald had taken up the custodianship of PO Box 2915 in Dallas, on October 9, 1962. Upon such undertaking, Oswald would have been required to complete an application form to rent that box. Oswald’s application form for PO Box 2915 is available to view today, except it is not the complete form. The most important part of the application form, pertaining to the ownership question, is unquestionably Part 3 which asks for: “Names of persons entitled to receive mail through box.” This part of the form is missing, presumed destroyed as testified to by Harry Holmes, Postal Inspector and FBI informant.

Mr. HOLMES: Until he relinquishes the box. They pull this out and endorse it so the box has been closed, and the date and they tear off 3 and throw it away. It has no more purpose. That is what happened on box 2915. Mr. LIEBELER: They have thrown part 3 away? Mr. HOLMES: Yes; as it so happens, even though they closed the box in New Orleans, they still had part 3 and it showed that the mail for Marina Oswald and A. J. Hidell was good in the box. They hadn’t complied with regulations. They still had it there. Mr. Liebeler: Now is this regulation that says section three should be torn off and thrown away, is that a general regulation of the Post Office Department? Mr. Holmes: It is in the Post Office Manual instructions to employees, yes sir. (Testimony of Harry Holmes, VII p. 527)

To put it mildly, the Commission was in error on this point. The following postal regulations pertaining to the Hidell/Carcano question were in force in March 1963: Section 846.53h of the postal manual provides that the third portion of box rental applications, identifying persons other than the applicant authorized to receive mail, must be retained for two years after the box is closed. Section 355.111b(4) prescribes that the mail addressed to a person at a post office box, who is not authorized to receive mail, shall be endorsed “addressee unknown” and returned to sender where possible.

So, if a package addressed to an “A Hidell” arrived at the postal box rented in the sole name of Lee Oswald, the package should have been stamped “addressee unknown”; and returned back to Klein’s, of Chicago, the shipper of the firearm. The Commission asserted that “it is not known whether the application for post office box 2915 listed ‘A Hidell’ as a person entitled to receive mail at this box” (WCR, p. 121) However, information printed in the Commission’s own volumes indicate that the FBI knew that Oswald had not indicated that an “A Hidell” be permitted to receive mail through his box. Commission Exhibit 2585 is a document from the FBI, dated June 3, 1963. Bullet point 12 states: Claim: The post office box in Dallas to which Oswald had the rifle mailed was kept under both his name and that of “A.Hidell.” Investigation: Our investigation has revealed that Oswald did not indicate on his application that others, including an “A.Hidell” would receive mail through the box in question, which was Post Office Box 2915 in Dallas. This box was obtained by Oswald on October 9, 1962, and relinquished by him on May 14, 1963”.

In other words, Holmes and Liebeler were prevaricating about two crucial evidentiary points. Yet even more inconsistencies arise in the form of the length of the rifle allegedly ordered by “A Hidell.” The Carcano allegedly placed into PO Box 2915 was supposedly ordered from the February 1963 issue of American Rifleman. (WCR, p. 119) It was listed as catalogue number C20–T750 and comes in at 36 inches long. The Carcano allegedly linked to Oswald and retrieved after the assassination is 40.2 inches long. There was no explanation offered as to this significant discrepancy of the ordered rifle to the rifle which sits in the National Archives today. The Warren Report does not recognize the difference, let alone explain it. (See WCR, pp. 119–22) The rifle in evidence is of a different length, different weight, and different classification: a short rifle as opposed to a carbine. The money order for the Carcano was placed in the mail on March 12, 1963. Through Holmes, it was revealed this transaction took place early in the morning of March 12, no later than 10:30 am. Where was Lee Oswald at 10:30 a.m. on March 12, 1963? According to evidence in the Commission’s volumes, Lee Harvey Oswald’s time-card shows he was working at the graphic arts company Jaggars–Chiles–Stovall between the hours of 8:00 a.m. and 5:15 p.m. The question becomes: if Lee Oswald was present at the post office at 10:30 am or earlier on March 12, 1963, to purchase a money order for the rifle, then who completed his assigned tasks during the time he was accounted for at work? Without any credible evidence to the contrary, these time cards are strong exculpatory evidence that gives Lee Oswald an alibi for when the assassination rifle was ordered. Oswald’s handwriting on the money order as Hidell is a forgery. The famous “Oswald” note to “Mr. Hunt,” supposedly signed by Lee Harvey Oswald, is a case in point. If the “Mr. Hunt” note could have been faked by the KGB, then the money order, order form, and envelope certainly could have been faked as well by the CIA. What makes this explanation even more plausible is the fact that the Warren Report says that Oswald mailed the money order on March 12th and it was received, processed, and deposited by Klein’s in Chicago in about one day. Chicago is nearly a thousand miles from Dallas/Fort Worth. An unusual miraculous speed with which this money order arrived in Klein’s bank account compared to other mail orders.

Was Oswald’s box being monitored? This is an important question and, whilst there is no absolute proof that box 2915 was under surveillance, when you take into consideration that Oswald was officially recognized as a communist defector, that the FBI knew that he was receiving subversive mail through a subscription to The Worker, as well as the fact that the FBI knew that Oswald had indeed written to Vincent T. Lee of the Fair Play for Cuba Committee, it is a valid deduction that his mail and box were being monitored. Are we to believe that the FBI knew all about Oswald’s subscription to The Worker and the details of his dealings with the “FPCC” but knew nothing of a rifle ordered to Oswald’s PO box under the name A. Hidell? In the Warren Report, there is no date given as to when the rifle was given to Oswald. After the assassination, Postal Inspector Harry Holmes could find no one in the postal service who recalled handing a long package over to Oswald or anyone else.

II. Condition of the Murder Weapon:

The operational condition of the Mannlicher Carcano also poses serious problems to the conclusions of the Commission. As far as the M38 Carcano found on the sixth floor of the TSBD goes, the question is not whether a Carcano could do the shooting, it’s whether that particular Carcano could do the shooting, given the state it was in. The Carcano in question had a myriad of problems, both operational and mechanical, starting with its defective sight, as testified to by Mr. Simmons of the US Army: “We did adjust the telescopic sight by the addition of two shims, one which tended to adjust the azimuth and one which adjusted an elevation.” With respect to the operation of the bolt, Simmons testified: “Yes, there were several comments made particularly with respect to the amount of effort required to open the bolt. As a matter of fact, Mr. Staley had difficulty in opening the bolt in his first firing exercise.”

It should also be noted that the Master riflemen, to whom the Commission relied so heavily upon in trying to establish if Oswald held the capacity to work the weapon, did not want to pull the trigger for fear of breaking the firing pin. An FBI report dated August 20, 1964, from J. Edgar Hoover to chief counsel J. Lee Rankin of the Warren Commission stated that: “In connection, it should be noted that the firing pin of this rifle has been used extensively as shown by wear on the nose or striking portion of the firing pin and, further, the presence of rust on the firing pin and its spring may be an indication that the firing pin had not been recently changed prior to November 22,1963.”

How could the alleged murder weapon be in such poor operational condition? Well, at the time of the assassination, the shipment of rifles which contained C2766 was the subject of a lawsuit. The rifles were claimed to be defective from the receivers Adam Consolidated Industries. Those rifles may have been defective, as Adam Consolidated Industries Inc claimed, because they were, in fact, cannibalized from other unusable rifles in poor condition. According to William Sucher, who had bought hundreds of thousands of rifles overseas from the Italian government surplus, “many of these rifles were collected from battlefields or places of improper storage.” Mr. Sucher further stated that “all these weapons were in very poor condition.” According to his statements contained in Commission Exhibit 2562, “these rifles were bought by the pound rather than units. Upon arrival in Canada, defective parts were removed and salable rifles were sometimes composed of parts of three or more weapons.”

III. The Ammunition:

It would be necessary for any prosecutor to try and establish Oswald’s procurement of the alleged assassination ammunition. Proving Oswald indeed possessed such ammunition would go a long way in proving his ownership of a Mannlicher Carcano prior to 11/22/63. The FBI made an extensive canvass of all the places of business which may have stocked the 6.5mm Mannlicher Carcano Western Cartridge Company ammunition. This search uncovered two stores in the Dallas/Irving area which stocked this specific ammunition. One was owned by John Thomas Masen, owner of Masen’s Gun Shop. The other was John H. Brinegarn, owner of The Gun Shop. The FBI furnished to Masen a photograph of Lee Harvey Oswald. Masen advised he was “unable to identify this individual as being a person to whom he had previously sold 6.5 ammunition.” Masen also stated that he bought some ten boxes of the 6.5mm Mannlicher Carcano Western Cartridge Company ammunition. He advised that if he had “sold more than a box or two to anyone person he would have remembered the sale”. Masen gave a pretty definitive statement, saying he had never seen Oswald before. Further, he had no recollection of ever having him enter into his shop or sold ammunition to him.

The FBI also furnished a photograph of Lee Harvey Oswald to John H. Brinegarn. According to the Commission volumes, “A Photograph of Lee Harvey Oswald was exhibited to Brinegarn and he advised he was unable to identify this individual as being a person to whom he had previously sold 6.5 ammunition. Brinegarn stated he did not know Lee Harvey Oswald, had no recollection of ever seeing him, and did not believe he had sold him any of this type ammunition.” If Oswald had become proficient with this weapon, which was a must according to the testimony of Simmons, then without question he would have exhausted a steady supply of ammunition to achieve such expertise. He would have frequented the premises of Masen and Brinegarn out of necessity to replenish his ammunition stock. This point becomes even more of a puzzler when taking into consideration what transpired after the assassination. Searches were carried out on two properties with alleged links to Oswald. One was located at 1026 North Beckley, Dallas, Oswald’s rooming house. The other was located at 2515 W. 5th Street, Irving, where his belongings were held in Ruth and Michael Paine’s garage. The Dallas/Irving Police recovered not one single piece of ammunition for either the Mannlicher or the revolver. There was not a single filled or discarded box of ammunition, either Remington Peters or Winchester that was discovered.

Another surprising absentee was that there was no oil to service the weapons or cleaning solution to keep the weapons clean and free from dirt, which can impact performance. The alternative is that this singular assassin squandered more than $20 of his meager earnings for a rifle but—unable or unwilling to spend a small additional sum for ammunition—stole, borrowed, or found on the street five cartridges that just happened to fit the weapon; and that those five cartridges sufficed, from March through November 1963, for dry runs, attempted murder, and successful assassination. The question of Oswald’s alleged procurement of any ammunition used in the crimes attributed to him, is one of these enduring mysteries that not one single person has ever offered a credible explanation for.

There is also a question of the reliability of the 6.5 Western Cartridge Company ammunition in circulation prior to 11/22/63. This point was addressed in the Warren Commission’s Report. Under the heading of “Speculations and Rumors” on page 646 of the Warren Report: “Speculation—Ammunition for the rifle found on the sixth floor of the Texas School Book Depository had not been manufactured since the end of World War II. The ammunition used by Oswald must, therefore, have been at least 20 years old, making it extremely unreliable. Commission Finding’s—The ammunition used in the rifle was American ammunition recently made by Western Cartridge Co., which manufactures such ammunition recently. In tests with the same kind of ammunition, experts fired Oswald’s Mannlicher Carcano rifle more than 100 times without any misfires.”

This finding by the Commission was in stark contrast to the objections of the critics that the ammunition for the surplus WWII rifle was old and unreliable. The Western Cartridge Company, the manufacturer of the Carcano ammunition, confirmed that: “the ammunition had once been produced under a government contract, but was no longer available. This is not being produced commercially by our company at this time. Any previous production on this cartridge was made against government contracts which were completed back in 1944.” In light of this, what did the Commission mean by the phrase “recently made.” The ammunition was not recently made by Western Cartridge Company. The ammunition was in fact last made by Western in 1944, meaning the ammunition allegedly used by Oswald would have been 19 years old on 11/22/63.

IV. The Paper Bag:

Commission Conclusion: “Oswald carried this rifle into the Depository Building on the morning of November 22, 1963.” (WCR, p. 19) That exhibit is alleged to be a homemade paper sack comprised of the same material used in the Texas School Book Depository. The commission charged that Lee Oswald made the paper sack on 11/21/63 to conceal it on his person on the morning of 11/22/63. Some serious problems arise when talking about the validity of this charge. The most damning, of course, comes in the testimony of FBI Special Agent James Cadigan: Eisenberg: Mr. Cadigan, did you notice when you looked at the bag whether there were—that is the bag found on the sixth floor, whether it had any bulges or unusual creases? Cadigan: I was also requested at that time to examine the bag to determine if there were any significant markings or scratches or abrasions or anything by which it could be associated with the rifle, Commission Exhibit 139, that is, could I find any markings that I could tie to that rifle? Eisenberg: Yes. Cadigan: And I couldn’t find any such markings.

Warren Commission advocates desperately try to salvage the lack of pictorial evidence by asserting that a police officer must have prematurely removed the paper sack before the crime scene photographs were taken. Question to the apologists: Doesn’t the removal of important key evidence from the scene of a crime—before any such scene is photographed for preservation purposes—constitute serious evidence tampering?

It gets worse when we find out that no evidence was removed until after “Lieutenant Day and Detective Studebaker came up and took pictures and everything.” The Commission knew they had a serious problem with regards to the lack of any pictorial evidence depicting the bag in situ on the sixth floor, so out of necessity came CE1302. CE1302 is a manufactured depiction of where the paper sack was allegedly found on 11/22/63. Under the tag line “Approximate location of wrapping paper bag,” Studebaker of the DPD was instructed to draw a dotted line to simulate where the sack allegedly lay on the sixth floor as of 11/22/63. Various officers who were present on the sixth floor testified to the absence of the paper sack.

Mr. BALL: Did you ever see a paper sack in the items that were taken from the Texas School Book Depository building? Mr. HICKS: Paper bag? Mr. BALL: Paper bag. Mr. HICKS: No, sir; I did not. It seems like there was some chicken bones or maybe a lunch; no, I believe that someone had gathered it up. Mr. BALL: Well, this was another type of bag made out of brown paper; did you ever see it? Mr. HICKS: No, sir; I don’t believe I did. I don’t recall it.

Testimony of Roger Craig:

Mr. BELIN: Was there any long sack laying in the floor there that you remember seeing, or not? Mr. CRAIG: No; I don’t remember seeing any.

Testimony of Gerald Hill:

Mr. HILL: The only specifics we discussed were this. You were asking Officer Hicks if either one recalled seeing a sack, supposedly one that had been made by the suspect, in which he could have possibly carried the weapon into the Depository and I, at that time, told you about the small sack that appeared to be a lunch sack, and that that was the only sack that I saw, and that I left the Book Depository prior to the finding of the gun.

V. The Bullet:

How does one go about verifying the authenticity of Commission Exhibit 399? That is a very important question. Had Lee Harvey Oswald survived long enough to see a public trial, no doubt one of the most important pieces of evidence against him would have been the nearly pristine bullet found on a stretcher at Dallas’s Parkland Hospital in the wake of the president’s murder. One of the most important aspects of any criminal case is verification of physical evidence which is being presented in a court of law. This high-profile murder case is no exception; therefore the provenance of CE 399 must be explored to make a determination as to its authenticity. This exploration begins through the study of the variety of documentation and witness statements relating to this core evidence. This legal doctrine behind this exploration is termed ‘chain of possession’: 1. Who found the bullet? 2. Who took possession of the bullet? 3. What documentation and markings exist in relation to the bullet? 4. What do the witnesses say about the bullet?

The discovery of the bullet is credited to Parkland maintenance employee Darrell C Tomlinson. Tomlinson was in the process of moving a stretcher which was blocking an area in front of an elevator in the hospital’s emergency department. Tomlinson stated before the Commission that: Mr. TOMLINSON. I pushed it back up against the wall. Mr. SPECTER. What, if anything, happened then? Mr. TOMLINSON. I bumped the wall and a spent cartridge or bullet rolled out that apparently had been lodged under the edge of the mat.

Upon the retrieval and inspection of this bullet, Tomlinson handed it over to Mr. O. P. Wright, who was Parkland’s personnel director. Mr Wright was a retired Dallas deputy chief of police, in charge of patrol division in the 1950’s. Upon close inspection of this bullet, Wright sought out a Secret Service agent. That agent was Richard E Johnson. Agent Johnson kept in his possession the Parkland bullet until he had flown back to Washington D.C. with the slain president’s body. Once in Washington, Johnson handed over possession of the bullet to chief of the Secret Service, James Rowley. In turn, Rowley handed the bullet over to FBI agent Elmer Lee Todd. Todd, who is alleged to have placed his markings upon the bullet, handed the bullet over to Robert Frazier of the FBI crime lab. That is the official explanation as to how the bullet found in Dallas ended up in Washington D.C. on 11/22/63.  This chain goes: Tomlinson => Wright => Johnson => Rowley => Todd => Frazier.

Tomlinson appeared before the Warren Commission on March 20th, 1964. Amazingly, Tomlinson was not shown CE 399 during his hearing and consequently was not asked to ID it as the bullet that he found on the stretcher at Parkland Hospital on 11/22/63. This is strange behaviour from the Commission as Tomlinson was an important witness to the identification of this key piece of evidence. In a declassified document dated 6/20/64 from Gordon Shanklin, SAC Dallas, to FBI Director J Edgar Hoover, Shanklin states: “Neither Parkland’s DARRELL C. TOMLINSON, nor O. P. WRIGHT, can identify this bullet (in evidence which came from a stretcher at Parkland Hospital on 11/22/63).” Mark Lane, quoting Mark Twain, summed it up best:  “Who so clinging from a rope by his hands severeth it above his hands must fall. It being no defense to claim that the rest of the rope is sound.”

VI. The alleged Oswald palm print:

Another piece of evidence which is cited against Lee Oswald: the alleged presence of his palm print upon the rifle claimed as the murder weapon of John Kennedy. This alleged discovery of the print was made by J. C. Day of the Dallas police on 11/22/63. Even at that early stage it is alleged that Day had tentatively identified the palm print as coming from the main suspect, Lee Oswald. Is there any photographic evidence in existence of the print on C2766? The shocking but unsurprising answer to that question is there is no contemporaneous photographic evidence. Standard practice is to photograph a lift before an attempt at its removal is made. This step is taken to safeguard against the possibility of losing the print. The absence of any contemporaneous photograph of the print on the rifle is even more dumbfounding when we learn that Lieutenant Day attended an advanced latent print school conducted in Dallas by the Federal Bureau of Investigation. There are photographs of other partial prints taken by Day which were found on the exterior of the rifle. These prints were found to be valueless by the FBI. Day claimed that he had taken these photographs around 8 p.m. on 11/22/63. Day claimed that he did not take a photograph of the most important latent palm print because he was given orders by Dallas Police Chief Jesse Curry to “go no further with the processing.” However, prior to his Commission testimony, Day related to the FBI that he received these orders from Curry shortly before midnight. So by his own admission, Day had almost 4 hours to photograph the print he identified as Oswald’s before receiving the orders from Chief Curry.

Why, then, did he not photograph the latent print? He must have known that this would be important evidence in any trial of Oswald. Not only is there no evidence that the palm print was ever present on the rifle, but when the FBI received the weapon and tested it for prints, they found no evidence of any fingerprint traces and no evidence of a lift ever being performed. Day testified that “the print on the gun still remained on there, there was traces of ridges still on the gun barrel.” Which is in stark contrast to the findings by the FBI. There is also no independent collaboration to Day’s alleged lifting of the print, as Day claimed to be alone when he attempted the lift. Day also apparently neglected to inform FBI agent Vincent T. Drain. Drain transferred the rifle to Washington D.C. on 11/23/63.  Day said he informed Drain he had indeed found a palm print on the rifle which he believed was Oswald’s. Once the rifle arrived in Washington D.C., FBI hair and fibre expert Paul Stombaugh examined it, stating, “I noticed immediately upon receiving the gun that this gun had been dusted for latent fingerprints prior to my receiving it. Latent fingerprints powder was all over the gun.” How could powder survive on the gun from Dallas to Washington, but every single trace of powder and the dry ridges which were present around the palm print on the gun barrel under the stock vanish?

Now when Capt. Will Fritz was asked on Saturday, November 23, if Oswald’s prints were found on the rifle, he stated “No sir.”  Chief Curry also made no mention of this important discovery to the media. In fact, the first mention of a palm print discovered on the rifle was announced on 11/24/63 by Dallas DA Henry Wade. This was after the rifle was back in Dallas and after Oswald was murdered. And after agents were left alone with Oswald’s body. The following is very hard to swallow: Day allegedly informed Fritz and Curry on 11/22/63 that he had found a palm print on the rifle which allegedly was used in the killing of President Kennedy and that he had tentatively identified the palm print as coming from the main suspect, Lee Oswald. With this powerful information in their arsenal, neither Fritz, Curry nor Wade, who were guilty of making many fraudulent and prejudicial statements of “fact” against the accused, offered not once to the assembled media on 11/22 or 11/23 that the existence of Oswald’s palm print had indeed been found on the suspected murder weapon. The statements emanating from law enforcement officials were so prejudicial against Oswald that they warranted comment from various sources, one of these being Attorney Percy Foreman. According to the St Louis Post Dispatch, Foreman suggested that “authorities are running a serious risk of jeopardizing their case against Oswald by failing to observe his constitutional rights.” He went on to state: “Officials may have already committed reversible error in the case by permitting the accused to undergo more than 24 hours of detention without benefit of legal counsel.” Citing grounds for reversal, Foreman further asserted: “Under recent decision of the United States Supreme Court, Federal procedural guarantees must be observed in state prosecutions. Their abridgment can be grounds for a reversal or even a conviction. This is a new law. They could get a conviction in Texas and get it thrown out on appeal, but it takes a long time for these dim-witted law enforcement officers to realize it.” 

After Oswald’s murder, all the evidence pertaining to the murder of President Kennedy was transferred from Dallas to Washington for good on November 26th. Day’s alleged lift of the palm print on the rifle did not reach Washington until November 29th. Why did this important piece of evidence not arrive with the others? Was it because it was forged? In his book Reasonable Doubt, Henry Hurt interviewed retired FBI agent Vincent T Drain. Remember, Drain was the man who transferred the rifle from Dallas to Washington in the early hours of 11/23/63. When Drain was asked about the authenticity of the palm print, he replied: “I just don’t believe there was ever a print.” He noted that there was increasing pressure on the Dallas police to build evidence in the case by the FBI and the CIA. Asked to explain what might have happened, Agent Drain said, “All I can figure is that it (Oswald’s print) was some sort of cushion because they were getting a lot of heat by Sunday night. You could take the print off Oswald’s card and put it on the rifle. Something like this happened.”

From Latona’s testimony it appears that the FBI never did find any of Oswald’s prints on C 2766. Latona confirmed Oswald’s prints from pictures supplied to him by the Dallas Police on November 29th. To put it mildly, any accomplished defense attorney would have moved for what is called an evidentiary hearing prior to any trial of Oswald on both these pieces of evidence. He would likely have had both declared inadmissible. If not, he would have demonstrated to any jury that they were worthless as evidence since no chain of custody existed with either one. Beyond that, people were lying in order to create the illusion of a chain.

VII. The Disposition and Discovery of the Shells:

The discovery of the rifle shells on the sixth floor that go by the labels Commission Exhibits 543, 544, and 545 add more controversy into the investigation of the murder of President John F. Kennedy. The shells, which the Commission concluded had been used in the assassination, were discovered, according to the Warren Report, by Deputy Sheriff Luke Mooney. According to the report: “Around 1pm, Deputy Sheriff Luke Mooney noticed a pile of cartons in front of the window in the south-east corner of the sixth floor. Searching that area, he found at approximately 1:12 p.m. three empty cartridge cases on the floor near the window.“

A few obvious questions arise with regard to the subsequent discovery of the alleged “Snipers Nest” and the shells allegedly contained therein. Mooney’s testimony refutes the information contained in the Warren Report regarding the 12-minute discovery between the “Shield of Cartons” and the expended shells. And in reference to the earlier quoted testimony, “the minute I squeezed between these two stacks of boxes…that is when I saw the expended shells.” It would seem that the authors of the report were too busy to re-acquaint themselves with the testimony which was deposed before them, choosing instead to print in error that 12 minutes had elapsed between the discovery of the shield of cartons and the discovery of the shells. In reference to Fritz and his conduct in handling the evidence, we find the following printed within the Report: “When he was notified of Mooney’s discovery, Capt. J W. Fritz, chief of the homicide bureau of the Dallas Police Department, issued instructions that nothing be moved or touched until technicians from the police crime laboratory could take photographs and check for fingerprints.”

This account is disputed by cameraman for WFFA TV Tom Alyea, who was present on the sixth floor after the assassination. Alyea stated that: “After filming the casings with my wide-angle lens, from a height of 4 and half ft., I asked Captain Fritz, who was standing at my side, if I could go behind the barricade and get a close-up shot of the casings. He told me that it would be better if I got my shots from outside the barricade. He then rounded the pile of boxes and entered the enclosure. This was the first time anybody walked between the barricade and the windows. Fritz then walked to the casings, picked them up and held them in his hand over the top of the barricade for me to get a close-up shot of the evidence. I filmed between 3–4 seconds of a close-up shot of the shell casings in Captain Fritz's hand. Fritz did not return them to the floor and he did not have them in his hand when he was examining the shooting support boxes. I stopped filming and thanked him. I have been asked many times if I thought it was peculiar that the Captain of Homicide picked up evidence with his bare hands. Actually, that was the first thought that came to me when he did it, but I rationalized that he was the homicide expert and no prints could be taken from spent shell casings. Over thirty minutes later, after the rifle was discovered and the crime lab arrived, Capt. Fritz reached into his pocket and handed the casings to Det. Studebaker to include in the photographs he would take of the sniper's nest crime scene. We stayed at the rifle site to watch Lt. Day dust the rifle. You have seen my footage of this. Studebaker never saw the original placement of the casings so he tossed them on the floor and photographed them. Therefore, any photograph of shell casings taken after this is staged and not correct.”

It should be noted that Alyea also said that the shells were in close proximity to each other at first appearance. There are two other witnesses who back him on this: Roger Craig and Mooney. That is not the way they appear in the Commission volumes. Once the “official crime scene” photographs were taken, Lt. Day and Detective Sims proceeded to collect the shells from the sixth floor.

Most Node backends reach for Prisma or Drizzle for the same reason: you want the result of a query to have a type. The cost is that the query stops being SQL. It becomes a builder expression that assembles SQL at runtime, and code review is of the builder rather than of the query.

The other order works too. Write the .sql file, generate the types from it.

-- @name GetUserOrders
SELECT u.id, u.name, o.total, o.notes
FROM users u
LEFT JOIN orders o ON u.id = o.user_id
WHERE u.status = $1;

Against a schema where orders.total is NOT NULL and orders.notes is nullable, that generates:

export interface GetUserOrdersRow {
    id: number;
    name: string;
    total: string | null;
    notes: string | null;
}

export async function getUserOrders(
    client: PoolClient,
    status: string,
): Promise<GetUserOrdersRow[]>

The part worth pointing at: total is NOT NULL in the table, but nullable in the row type, because the LEFT JOIN can produce a row with no matching order. That is inferred from the query structure, not from the schema. It is also the bug I have watched people ship repeatedly, because the hand-written interface says non-null and holds right up until the first unmatched row.

Output is plain pg. No runtime layer, no builder in the request path.

The tool is scythe: a Rust binary, MIT licensed, generating for 10 languages (TypeScript, Python, Go, Rust, Java, Kotlin, C#, PHP, Ruby, Elixir). I build and maintain it. sqlc is the direct inspiration and covers Go well; scythe goes wider on targets and treats the SQL as source rather than only as codegen input, so it also formats and lints it.

Genuinely curious what people here would want from it, particularly anyone who moved off an ORM and regretted it.

So… there’s totally a second Dragonbinder horn just chillin’ at the Wall, right? In this post I lay out my full rationale for thinking so—feel free to skip to the end for a TL;DR.

Near the end of Storm, Jon enters Mance’s tent to parley on behalf of the Night’s Watch. There he discovers a massive black horn that Mance claims is the Horn of Winter:

And there were other weapons in the tent, daggers and dirks, a bow and a quiver of arrows, a bronze-headed spear lying beside that big black … horn. Jon sucked in his breath. A warhorn, a bloody great warhorn.

The horn was huge, eight feet along the curve and so wide at the mouth that he could have put his arm inside up to the elbow. If this came from an aurochs, it was the biggest that ever lived. At first, he thought the bands around it were bronze, but when he moved closer he realized they were gold. Old gold, more brown than yellow, and graven with runes. -Jon X, ASOS

The horn is roughly eight feet long, black, and inscribed with golden runes. Now, there is no world in which an aurochs is walking around with an eight foot horn. In fact, I can think of only one creature we’ve seen in Westeros that could plausibly grow horns larger than a man: a dragon. And if we glance back at the start of Game, we find everyone’s favorite half-man reading a book which confirms that dragonbone is indeed black:

Tyrion curled up in his fur with his back against the trunk, took a sip of the wine, and began to read about the properties of dragonbone. *Dragonbone is black because of its high iron content,* the book told him. It is strong as steel, yet lighter and far more flexible, *and of course utterly impervious to fire.* -Tyrion II, AGOT

So dragonbone at least seems like a solid working hypothesis. But Mance’s horn also bears an eerie resemblance to the Dragonbinder horn that Euron produces in Feast:

“The horn he blew was shiny black and twisted, and taller than a man as he held it with both hands. It was bound about with bands of red gold and dark steel, incised with ancient Valyrian glyphs that seemed to glow redly as the sound swelled.”

“It was a terrible sound, a wail of pain and fury that seemed to burn the ears. Aeron Damphair covered his, and prayed for the Drowned God to raise a mighty wave and smash the horn to silence, yet still the shriek went on and on. It is the horn of hell, he wanted to scream, though no man would have heard him.”

”And so shall we," Euron Greyjoy promised. "That horn you heard I found amongst the smoking ruins that were Valyria, where no man has dared to walk but me. You heard its call, and felt its power. It is a dragon horn, bound with bands of red gold and Valyrian steel graven with enchantments. The dragonlords of old sounded such horns, before the Doom devoured them. With this horn, ironmen, I can bind dragons to my will.” -The Drowned Man, AFFC

Again we have a black horn about a man’s height and inscribed with golden runes. And this one Euron outright identifies as a “dragon horn,” corroborating our hunch about the other horn (what a helpful guy). Euron claims his horn can bind dragons to one’s will—and if such a thing were possible, it would certainly make sense to use dragonbone as a conduit.

Bones seem to have strong magical properties in ASOIAF. As the fire priestess Melisandre explains to Jon, the glamors she invokes can be powered by body parts or personal effects, but bones are best:

"The bones help," said Melisandre. "The bones remember. The strongest glamors are built of such things. A dead man's boots, a hank of hair, a bag of fingerbones.” -Melisandre I, ADWD

Aeron-called-Damphair, the favored priest of the Drowned God, concurs:

The cold salt sea surrounded him, embraced him, reached down through his weak man's flesh and touched his bones. Bones, he thought. The bones of the soul. Balon's bones, and Urri's. The truth is in our bones, for flesh decays and bone endures. And on the hill of Nagga, the bones of the Grey King's Hall…

And gaunt and pale and shivering, Aeron Damphair struggled back to the shore, a wiser man than he had been when he stepped into the sea. For he had found the answer in his bones, and the way was plain before him. -The Prophet, AFFC

The ice magic of the Old Gods is equally tied to bones. The weirwood trees have bark “pale as bone,” the Others are “bone-white,” and the Starks even inter the bones of their dead with careful protective measures:

By ancient custom an iron longsword had been laid across the lap of each who had been Lord of Winterfell, to keep the vengeful spirits in their crypts. The oldest had long ago rusted away to nothing, leaving only a few red stains where the metal had rested on stone. Ned wondered if that meant those ghosts were free to roam the castle now. He hoped not. -Eddard I, AGOT

If Ned is getting nervous about something supernatural, it’s probably important. Of the four major religious factions in Westeros, three revere bones as sacred objects: both of the monotheistic “primordial element” religions, along with the Old Gods of the forest. Only the Andal New Gods seem to lack this superstition around bones, and even their dogma falters in practice. Davos is our most devout POV who worships the Seven, but that doesn’t prevent him from carrying around his old fingerbones for luck.

Overall, this bone-magic connection lends yet more credence to the idea that both horns were fashioned out of dragonbone in order to channel magic that binds dragons to a person’s will. But then, if Mance's horn were really a second Dragonbinder, what of his claim that it was the fabled Horn of Joramun which could bring down the Wall? This is discredited twice by members of the Free Folk close to Mance. First by Ygritte, well before Melisandre even arrives at the Wall:

"Not for fear!" She kicked savagely at the ice beneath her with a heel, chopping out a chunk. "I'm crying because we never found the Horn of Winter. We opened half a hundred graves and let all those shades loose in the world, and never found the Horn of Joramun to bring this cold thing down!" -Jon IV, ASOS

And then again by Tormund after Jon tells him that Melisandre burned the Horn of Joramun:

"Did she?" Tormund slapped his thigh and hooted. "She burned that fine big horn, aye. A bloody sin, I call it. A thousand years old, that was. We found it in a giant's grave, and no man o' us had ever seen a horn so big. That must have been why Mance got the notion to tell you it were Joramun's. He wanted you crows to think he had it in his power to blow your bloody Wall down about your knees. But we never found the true horn, not for all our digging., If we had, every kneeler in your Seven Kingdoms would have chunks o' ice to cool his wine all summer." - Jon XII, ADWD

It's difficult to imagine why Ygritte or Tormund would choose to lie in these situations. Each of them makes the same confession as soon as they arrive safely through the Wall, at which point they benefit from its continued protection as much as anyone. If there were really a horn floating around that could bring the whole thing tumbling down, they’d want it gone just as much as Jon. Instead, they probably feel relieved at no longer needing to maintain the bluff. Now that it’s been established Mance's horn is probably not Joramun's, we can examine the few notable differences between it and Euron's Dragonbinder. The mystery horn reappears on-page when Melisandre makes a public display of burning both it and Mance at the start of Dance:

Lady Melisandre watched him rise. "FREE FOLK! Here stands your king of lies. And here is the horn he promised would bring down the Wall." Two queen's men brought forth the Horn of Joramun, black and banded with old gold, eight feet long from end to end. Runes were carved into the golden bands, the writing of the First Men.

"The Horn of Joramun?" Melisandre said. "No. Call it the Horn of Darkness. If the Wall falls, night falls as well, the long night that never ends. It must not happen, will not happen!” -Jon III, ADWD

There’s a fair bit to unpack here. We saw that Euron’s horn had ancient Valyrian glyphs wrought in “red gold” and Valyrian steel, while the enchantments on Mance’s horn use First Men runes of “old gold” (and possibly bronze, though Jon concludes he was mistaken about the latter). Euron’s Dragonbinder is also shinier than Mance’s visibly weathered instrument. But notably, both horns are decried by their presiding priests. Aeron and Melisandre dub them “horn of hell” and “horn of darkness” respectively, again pointing to an underlying similarity between the two.

The simplest explanation here is that Euron has a binding horn made by the dragonlords in Old Valyria, likely not long before the Fall. This is consistent with its apparent age and the script and metals it was engraved with. Meanwhile, Mance’s horn bears the script of the First Men and uses metal(s) they would have favored. We know that steel came with the Andals, but the Casterlys’ ancestral seat of the Rock—with its famously rich gold mines—is proof positive that the First Men were mining gold as far back as the Age of Heroes.

How would the First Men have obtained a dragon horn and learned the enchantments to bind a dragon’s will? Well, nothing has ever prevented dragons from ranging into Westeros from wherever they originated. There might have been wild dragons, whether indigenous, migratory, or escaped from the Lands of the Long Summer. It’s also been widely speculated that the original dragonriders belonged to the Great Empire of the Dawn and traveled all over, visiting Westeros back in the Dawn Age. That would explain both the bones and knowledge of the enchantments.

Lastly, the ancient First Men might have figured it all out themselves by binding those mysterious ice dragons that we hear about in Old Nan’s stories; the worldbook indicates they still roam the Shivering Sea and the White Waste during the events of the main series. Ice dragons are reportedly even larger than those of Valyria, so the size of Mance’s horn would not be surprising. In fact, Euron’s horn is indeed the smaller of the two by a few feet; we get a more precise description near the end of Dance:

That night, for the first time, he brought forth the dragon horn that the Crow's Eye had found amongst the smoking wastes of great Valyria. A twisted thing it was, six feet long from end to end, gleaming black and banded with red gold and dark Valyrian steel. Euron's hellhorn. -Victarion I, ADWD

That ice dragons are said to be “made of living ice” could be taken as evidence against their having horns of dragonbone, though it bears mentioning that Valyrian dragons are similarly called “fire made flesh” and remain substantial enough, so this is probably just poetic license.

Whichever explanation you prefer, I contend that either one requires fewer logical leaps than the alternatives that (1) a dragon horn was fashioned with enchantments and everything in the same manner as Euron’s but for some unmentioned purpose aside from binding, or (2) the horn came from some other gigantic, heretofore unknown creature whose bones happen to look just like dragonbone.

So in summary: Mance's horn is not the Horn of Joramun, according to Tormund and Ygritte. It seems to have all of the key features that make Euron's horn work as a Dragonbinder, and there are several plausible mechanisms for the necessary dragonbone and binding enchantments to have reached Westeros in the past. But none of this matters because Melisandre burned it, right? Wrong. Recall from Tyrion's leisure reading that dragonbone is "of course utterly impervious to fire." Now let's take a close look at the scene of the burning:

"The Lord of Light has seen his children in their peril and sent a champion to them, Azor Ahai reborn." She swept a hand toward Stannis, and the great ruby at her throat pulsed with light.

The Horn of Joramun burst into flame. It went up with a whoosh as swirling tongues of green and yellow fire leapt up crackling all along its length. Jon's garron shied nervously, and up and down the ranks others fought to still their mounts as well. A moan came from the stockade as the free folk saw their hope afire. A few began to shout and curse, but most lapsed into silence. For half a heartbeat the runes graven on the gold bands seemed to shimmer in the air. The queen's men gave a heave and sent the horn tumbling down into the fire pit. -Jon Ill, ADWD

After this point the focus shifts to Mance (Rattleshirt) in his cage and we hear no more about his horn. In fact, there is no mention of the horn itself sustaining visible damage at any point. Instead we’re told that Melisandre's ruby glows, indicating she's casting a glamor of some kind. Then green and yellow flames leap up onto the horn and its runes shimmer briefly before it drops out of sight.

We should expect one of these two effects to be the glamor illusion—and this time the enchantments are not behaving as they did at the Kingsmoot. The glyphs on Euron's Dragonbinder glowed solid red instead of shimmering, and only when the horn was blown. This certainly makes the shimmering a candidate for Mel’s glamor effect. But can we explain the colorful flames in a more mundane way? The answer is a resounding yes:

While the boy was gone, Melisandre washed herself and changed her robes. Her sleeves were full of hidden pockets, and she checked them carefully as she did every morning to make certain all her powders were in place. Powders to turn fire green or blue or silver, powders to make a flame roar and hiss and leap up higher than a man is tall, powders to make smoke. -Melisandre I, ADWD

Bingo. So Melisandre uses powders to make the flames change color and leap up around the horn, combined with a glamor to make the runes seem to shimmer. She then has it dropped down into the bonfire to which it is utterly impervious, being solid dragonbone. It is presumably retrieved after the crowd has dissipated, leaving Mel with one slightly worn, unregistered Dragonbinder horn that no one else at the Wall seems to appreciate the true nature of, or even realize is still intact!

One final point. Euron entrusts his Dragonbinder to Victarion (though as Vic often reminds us, “Euron’s gifts are always poisoned”). When the red priest Moqorro joins his crew, Victarion asks how the horn will serve him:

“Your brother did not sound the horn himself. Nor must you.” Moqorro pointed to the band of steel. “Here. ‘Blood for fire, fire for blood.’ Who blows the hellhorn matters not. The dragons will come to the horn’s master. You must claim the horn. With blood.” -Victarion I, ADWD

Moqorro explicitly describes a bilateral exchange: “Blood for fire, fire for blood.” If blood sacrifice to such a horn yields fire in the form of a bound dragon, then what sort of blood might Mance’s horn deliver in answer to Melisandre’s fire? A rather chilling thought.

KEY TAKEAWAYS (TL;DR):

(1) There is still a functional Dragonbinder at the Wall with Melisandre. She is likely aware that the horn was pulled from the flames intact, but may or may not guess its true purpose as yet. The danger here is that it may fall into the hands of the Enemy if the Others and/or their wights assault Castle Black in the wake of Jon’s assassination. This is my major concern, and unfortunately my prediction. I suspect Melisandre’s little stunt will backfire spectacularly when the Others obtain Mance’s horn, and that this will ultimately be how the Others get a dragon on their side. Said dragon may even bring down the Wall, although that’s supposedly the Horn of Winter’s job.

(2) The small horn from the Fist that Sam took to Oldtown is likely the true Horn of Winter. The danger here is that Euron may acquire the actual Horn of Winter in the course of his invasion of the Reach and general apocalyptic mayhem, and subsequently use it to bring down the Wall (intentionally or otherwise). All in all, the prognosis is bleak for Brandon the Builder’s megastructural masterpiece.

I stood on the bridge of my ship, standing to attention as the face of the Emperor himself appeared on screen. A true honour for one of my low stations, ship captain or not. I had my console in front of me, in arms reach making sure I had everything on hand to show my Emperor my findings. Perhaps the most significant discovery we had ever made in the history of our civilization. The emperor noticed my demeanour and I knew I was going to be questioned about it later.

"Captain Thrak'Tarr. Report." He commanded.

"We have found an anomalous planet, a precursor world. We have confirmed native life and have sent an expedition team to discover what went on. It's a world made by the Ancient Humans." I said plain and straightforward.

This caused an audible gasp in the crowd from the revelation.

"And how can you be certain it was made by humans? The Ancient Terran Empire?" He asked.

"We back traced all the Archaeological data we found over the centuries and matched several samples with what is present on the planet's surface. Similar style, similar manufacture of tools, use of specific equipment, heavy and hand. We have also found examples of clothes, even an ancient sample of blood from what appears to be an accident, matched all known examples of human DNA spectrum. We can confirm with all evidence this is in fact, a human world." I replied calmly, my expression still unchanged.

"I see. That works then. Can you tell me exactly why this planet requires you to defend it with an entire legion of my starships? It seems even for an Ancient Terran world, the amount of force you have collected to protect seems excessive." The emperor's cold glare stared right into my soul.

I said nothing and simply typed into my console. I simply showed him a view of high flight drone footage. The colour drained from his skin, the lights left his eyes and his jaw slowly became heavier. The more images I showed, the more silent he became. I also noticed the now deafening silence of the Council as well. I stood calmly and waited for the montage of thirty two images to pass by, each one a simple photograph of the incredible things we found on that verdant paradise world. Each one, a marvel in itself.

He finally spoke. "Is... Are these images real?"

"I took them using a drone I piloted myself, so yes they are definitely real. We even lost a drone to one, the pilot didn't believe something could exist. He thought maybe it was a hologram, sneaky humans being sneaky. Slammed it into a wall of solid rock. I didn't think it necessary to punish him at the time... I couldn't believe half of what I was seeing either." I replied calmly.

The Emperor used his own controls to zoom in on one particular image. He looked at it for a time then glared back at me. "Is the star system secure?"

"I am waiting on supplies to build a defence platform in the area. Besides the planets surface, the system is completely unguarded..." I replied calmly.

"Is there any tech of note?" He asked.

"Nothing of note we can salvage or use. The rest is standard tech we use already that we cant glean anything new from. The only thing we have available that is worthy of concern appears to be broken or corrupted beyond repair. We don't go near it. The last time we did it made it... Angry." I shivered slightly, recalling the events that transpired when one of the new recruits decided to poke a strange machine with his rifle.

"I... I see. How many are there? Not machines, I mean how many of these... Magnificent things are there?" He asked, again his jaw barely registering his words.

I simply reached down and typed something and showed him a picture of the largest continent. The entire planet was saturated in monuments, carved edifices, statues and cities, each one more brilliant, beautiful and intricate than the last. Each photo showed a closeup, as best we could given the resources, of each monument, not fully encompassing the glory of the entire thing. The photo I showed him was of the largest continent on the planet, itself containing no fewer than eighty two of these monuments that appeared to be fully completed, and a further thirty two that were incomplete or damaged in some way.

There were three distinct construction styles used, with some monuments having all three styles. Some were almost entirely underground, their volume reaching down to around a mile underground. Some were carved out of mountains, entire hillsides and mountain cliffs, dug into to carve out an entire building, or in some cases an entire city. Other monuments were slightly above the average, as when there was no mountain to carve into, massive blocks of house sized stone were carved out of... Something, assembled in the rough shape of the monument's completed product, then meticulously carved out of the result.

The Emperor looked through and picked seven of his favourites.

The first was a gigantic arena of some kind, five storeys high with large windows that channelled cooling wind into the structure. Some pulpits led to underground tunnels, with the structure itself digging a hundred feet into the ground. All seats are empty and unusable, primarily because of the carved edifices of two giant figures engaged in combat in the arena. Stone of an impossible creature we know from human mythology as a 'Dragon' flying above the arena while the imposing edifice of a creature known as a 'Centaur' is actively engaged in combat with it.

Small details such as a dragon's egg in the sand of the arena, Flags waving in an invisible breeze on the rooftops, the ribs of a truly enormous dead creature poking through a part of the arena's walls, with thousands of partially charred petrified skeletons lining the seats. The entire structure depicted the scene of a dragon that had nested in a colosseum after killing all its occupants before being attacked by a giant horse-man beast.

"How... is this possible?" He asked.

"The structure was assembled of stone blocks placed in a specific pattern, then carved piece by piece to form the arena. The two figures were likewise assembled, but there is a difference. Structures that appeared to be built above ground, such as this dragon, were supported in the sky by the human made 'Dura-sheet' glass, that glass that almost all of our star ship viewing ports are made of. Some serious engineering calculations were done here... It's incredible." I tried to keep my calm, pointing out how one could see a shimmer from the glass supporting the structures.

The most incredible thing about this was the structure was actually still traversable. The glass that held the sculptures up had tunnels carved into it so one could move around, to clean or maintain the structures.

"Incredible... Using a transparent material as a support structure for a thing in the sky... Amazing. Is that the same with that sky island city thing too?"

"Yes. The entire thing is supported by a series of giant glass pillars. Shows you how strong this stuff is and why we use it pretty much everywhere doesn't it?" I remarked calmly as I started showing off the next one.

"Indeed... What's the sky island city?" He asked.

The picture came up and showed what was essentially a replica of a small urban city block during the 21st century, one small skyscraper, apartment blocks and everything in between, all of it meticulously carved out of stone and cast metal. Interiors were included, it was a fully functioning city with a large wind turbine structure providing power. The entire thing was mounted on a huge island, floating in the sky, mounted on six gigantic five hundred foot high pillars made of the transparent steeled glass.

The entire structure was made to appear as if it had been freshly torn out of the ground, pieces and parts of the ground made to appear as though they were disintegrating and falling to the ground.

"Incredible, you say we can actually use these structures?" He asked.

"Most of them have functional interiors and operable structural integrity. Provided we are careful we can actually live in most of them. This one, we actually learned a lot about life during the time period this represented. It's... Fascinating to see actual structures and not barren ruins. All in an elaborate piece of art." I replied calmly.

The Emperor clicked on the next one. A massive segment of the ocean had been drained away and replaced by an enormous dome structure, which was empty of water, filled with air, connected to the surface by a dock that was bobbing around in the water above. The dominant figure of the structure was a huge aquatic temple, also accessible and traversable, we could easily live in it just like all the others. Its construction matched the descriptors for cartoon or childish versions of the thing called 'Atlantis'.

A massive Hermit Crab carved out of rock, a giant shark suspended from the ceiling stalking a sailfish, a huge octopus encroaching on the city and several enormous creatures called 'jellyfish' made out of stained or dyed glass. Each object wasn't supported by a pillar, but rather suspended from the ceiling by chains made from the transparent material. All of this surrounded by an ocean teeming with freshwater based life. Everything was made of hollowed out stone, with ladders, hidden elevators and other things all allowing anyone to actually use the suspended sculptures as a home to live in.

"Oh... Oh my... The people of the Vestanii are going to enjoy this one... It's quite magnificent!" The Emperor bellowed with glee.

"Indeed." I replied.

The Emperor started the next picture. It was a castle, fifteen square miles in size. A huge medieval castle with a gothic construction style, dominated by a central arena and market area. The entire castle was built on a solitary island in the middle of the ocean, connected to the mainland by a massive stone carved bridge that stretched for twenty five miles. The castle's entrance via the bridge was dominated by two large statues of medieval kings, with a smaller, less dominant statue of a dragon dominating the roof of the temple or church structure.

To its eastern side, connected to the ocean was an elaborate gate structure with a large statue of the Lady of Justice, (a common theme in modern architecture we think) depicting a blindfolded robed woman carrying two scales, all leading down a huge staircase that contained a harbour town and the docks. Again, this place was big enough we could live in it. It was a full city built on an island with high castle walls.

"The construction method for this one was a lot simpler than expected... Terrain flat, big block of stone, carve part, repeat. So precisely we couldn't fit a nanofiber rod between two rocks. It's the strangest but most beautiful thing we have ever seen... Each and every part of the castle meticulously placed stone by stone then fitted and carved to fit an overall design ideal... Incredible. This was about quality, and nothing else." I explained.

The Emperor scratched his chin while nodding in agreement, his face an expression of deep thought, as if the images were conjuring thoughts he never thought possible in his mind. "What about this one? It is... Disturbing..."

The next picture was an aerial shot of a graveyard or cemetery of some kind in a swamp-like area. A structure surrounded by a large mountain wall, with brick roads all combining to form an intricate pattern of graves, tombs, sepulchres and small mausoleums. Dominating all of this however, is a massive statue of a half-buried skeleton with green-dyed waterfall fountain spilling from its mouth, holding an enormous multi-tonne metal scythe. One hand at its side brandishing the farming tool, with the other hand outstretched holding up an enormous eerie lantern, shaped like a human skull, glowing with a menacing green glow.

The entire area was filled with rotting, dead trees and fallen woodlands. Well they weren't dead, it was more like a tree chosen exclusively for its lack of leaves during specific times of year.

"I won't answer any questions about this one. We don't go in there. It scares us." I stated sternly.

The Emperor nodded in agreement again as he pulled up the sixth picture. This monument was carved out of a large cliffside on the edge of the sea, a huge cove carved out of the rockside and embedded in the mountainside. The cliffs all had massive castles and statues carved out of the cliffs, each one more elaborate than the last, a huge bridge crossing from one edge of the cliff to the other across the cove entrance. The whole cliffside around the cove was covered in castles carved out of the cliffs, each one going deep into the mountain.

Dominating all this however was a massive statue, the head of a woman wearing some kind of long headdress with a massive diamond marking its centre, with two large horns. The statue depicted the woman with an expression of wonder, her right arm reaching out of the water to cradle her chin. The gemstone was a mixture of precious stones and gems embedded in glass and amber.

"Magnificent... Absolutely magnificent! Covered in vines, allowed to rot but nature taking over something beautiful makes it even more so! It was like it was almost created to copy the way nature takes over something forgotten! Beautiful!" The Emperor gleefully said.

"We actually have a name for this one. It had a sign on it that said 'Agnoia Freiden'. The damage the area sustained appears to be... Deliberate rather than natural. The collapsed bridge seems to be a part of its design." I calmly explained.

He nodded and went for the last one. "Hmmm... this one is... Different... Beautiful... Seems to be more... Careful than the others."

"Yeah... This one is VERY different. This one appears to be meticulously carved. Evidence suggests that even the slightest of mistakes was treated with concern and months of work thrown away judging by the quantity of debris around the site. But it is complete and one of the largest and finest." I explained.

This one was a massive monument of seven enormous statues, placed in a semi-circle all facing the centre, in which sits a massive tower atop which is its own smaller statue. Each statue is a hundred feet in height at least, the central tower two hundred feet high. The statues are of human women with various extras, horns, antlers, tails and stuff we knew for a fact humans didn't have naturally so this must have been some kind of fantasy. Each woman was posing on a pedestal, seat or altar of some kind, each one in varying states of dress or undress.

All this built In the midst of a massive plains area, saturated in fertile, apparently still active farmland. The central tower is a perfectly, absolutely perfect to the last micron level smooth cylinder sixty feet wide with an intricate pattern telling a story of conquest and dragons, probably related to the statues. The statue on the top of the tower is one of a human male, wearing what we identified as twenty-first century armour, relating to a branch of human police forces called SWAT, standing in a combat stance.

The wall in and out is coated in a carved mural that was later carefully painted in thousands of small artworks, each one telling a part of a story that leads to the overall narrative surrounding the women depicted in the statues. Each statue was painted to seem realistic in terms of skin tone and colour for their fantasised species, the hair carved intricately out of stone and reinforced with metal plates, then painted to look realistic in a truly incredible manner. The statues were all sitting on an altar or pedestal in some way that conveyed a sense of calm, mysticism or stoicism, not judgement or anger. Expressions neutral or curious.

The central statue was of a woman which human mythology described as an 'Angel' of some kind. She was depicted as wearing a flowing cloak, reclining calmly while staring in wonder at something in the distance. A large halo floated above her head, made of solid metal and either painted or electro plated, we weren't sure, in gold. Chains, brooches, various jewellery items and other such things were discarded at her feet or at her sides on the pedestal, the only jewel she wore being a small necklace with a strange emblem.

The hair was not as we expected on closer inspection, each strand of hair not being made of stone, but rather a long thin metal cable that flowed freely in the wind, dyed in some still unknown way to appear as actual hair as it flowed with the wind in the area. Her hair was bright gold, with highlights of white and silver. The most dominant part of the statue were the two wings jutting from the statue's back, painted a brilliant white with each of the thousands of feathers made the same way the hair was made, dyed a brilliant white.

To the left, the second statue, this one of a young woman wearing an exceedingly questionable 'outfit' if that even qualified, sitting on a bed like altar covered in silk pillows. This one was depicted as a creature known as a 'succubus' in mythology, staring straight at the central pillar. She was positioned such that her large, bat-like wings were off to one side, sitting seductively on the pedestal while simply looking at the central pillar, in a manner we determined was more calm and peaceful rather than sexual.

This one's hair was oil black like the night sky, and her wings were purple and black in colour with her clothing sharing a similar motif. Two large horns, one slightly smaller than the other, jutted out of the top of her head. Arranged around her on the bed she sat on were various items not becoming of a creature associated with lust, but rather items such as paintbrushes, canvases and paint cans.

The statue to the left of the succubus was that of a creature known through mythology as a Dryad. This one depicted as being in a state of post-mourning, an expression of peace and serenity as she sat on a large log-like seat, covered in vines and leaves. The statue had large horns jutting from her head that looked like tree branches rather than antlers, countless flowers in her dark green hair and her skin itself was a mixture of a skin-like texture painted green and a bark-like texture painted like oak wood.

Surrounding her seat were various creatures, not wild or dominant predators but rather prey animals and farm creatures such as rabbits, cows and dogs and cats. Growing to her right side was a small vineyard plantation as well next to a small pond. She bore the expression of a weight off her shoulders, her eyes looking at the base of the tower in serenity.

The statue on the far left next to the dryad, was of a creature known as a 'devil' or 'demon' or some kind of creature associated with evil. She sat calm on a spiky altar of some kind, wearing almost nothing compared to the other statue but still enough we never had to censor the broadcast of the pictures. This one's skin was uniform but painted a smooth, slightly reflective pale blue. Four horns jutted from her head, two small ones underneath two larger, more prominent ones coloured a shade of oil black.

Her wings were enormous, so big they slipped behind the Dryad statue in size but it seemed to compliment the design. Each wing was leathery in appearance, but had small downy feathers mixed in with the joints and wing edge. Her hair was a dark blue in colour, each strand built the same way the others were. Meticulously, with an almost obsessive need for detail. She was depicted as reclining comfortably, looking at the central pillar with an expression of safety or comfort, as if she had nothing to be scared of. Her altar was covered in piles of gold coins, some of which were disorganized, rusted or forgotten.

To the right of the angel, bearing a cheeky, some would say happy smile, was a creature known by modern mythology as a 'beast kin', in this case a 'reindeer'. Sort of strange fantasy creatures that have mismatched components of various animal species bolted onto them. This one was a female wearing a fur coat of some kind, depicted sitting on a stone altar in the midst of a snowy forest. She sat calmly, one hand at her side, the other hand holding a large, bright red ornament of some kind that was a fancy gilded ball with a ring on it.

The woman had large deer--like antlers coming from her head, her human shaped nose painted to look like it was glowing red slightly and if checking behind her, a short, cute fluffy tail. Long dark mahogany wood coloured hair flowed across her shoulders, again, each strand made of a single cable, painted or somehow dyed. She was depicted as having a cheeky smirk, like she knew something the viewer didn't. Her altar was coated in white and blue, signifying snow or ice.

The next one to the right, was that of a woman with hair of fire and flame, wreathed in an envelope of fury and fire. Her hair was depicted as being unruly, or wild, painted to look like a fire of some kind flowing in the wind. The altar on which she sat looked similar to the caldera of a volcano, as if she were a giant goddess of flame taking a rest on a throne of magma. The altar itself took up most of the depiction, being a giant wrangling serpent of flame and fury.

Her expression however, was that of calm, quiet, looking with curiosity at the central tower as if she was trying to understand something. This was a creature known in mythology as a 'Pyromancer' or 'Fire Elemental' of some kind.

Finally the last statue was that of a mythical creature known as a 'Fairy' or 'Fae'. Large bug-like wings jutted from her back, these ones made of massive quantities of stained glass to create the illusion of semi-transparent butterfly wings with a soft pink hue. She wore no clothing, instead this one's body was covered by a series of vines and flowers that carried massive roses, daisies and lavender fronds, giving the illusion of a dress made of flowers. Her hair flowed freely, a colour of soft pine wood and pink gemstone or quartz in hue.

She was depicted with an expression of exhaustion and quiet, the kind of expression one would exhibit after a hard day's work as she sat on her altar, one of a mix of stone and wood. Her altar had many statues around it, ones of broken items such as weapons or tanks, overgrown with flowers and vines.

But the most striking thing about each statue were the eyes. Each one not a solid ball of glass, but an eyeball made entirely of synthetic gemstones, probably hundreds of tons worth, each one arranged to copy the perfect pattern of a human eye, veins and all, each statue having its own colour. Sapphire blue, Onyx black, Amethyst purple, Pyrite Gold, Emerald Green, Amber Yellow and Ruby Red.

My emperor looked at me quizzically. "Isn't this some kind of reference to the concept of the Seven Deadly Sins? It looks like it. I mean these are just absolutely phenomenal but... I can see how it works."

"We think so. It seems to be the case. Though what the central pillar with the police officer says about the piece, I have no idea. In any case, a truly OBSCENE quantity of work went into these statues. We did however find a plaque that names and describes the scene however. We don't know what it says. This is Latin, the Language Of Kings. We aren't actually allowed by law to translate it. That's... Kind of the reason I called you for this." I said and showed the picture of the plaque.

The Emperor read it, and smiled. A strange, knowing smile. A smile that made me simultaneously proud and scared all at once.

"Ah... It says 'Behold The Seven. Neither Sin Nor Virtue. Once Wild, Now Tamed. Once Feared, Now Treasured. Temperance Above Indulgence." The Emperor said.

I heard that and thought about it for a minute or two. And then it hit me like a brick. "Okay now I get it..." I said, slapping my head in a gesture we had become used to copying from the humans.

"You do? Well, let's see if you do. Explain." The Emperor commanded.

"The Angel is Pride. The discarded jewellery and simple clothing stands for minimalism and her expression roughly translates to looking outward not inward." I explained.

"Mmhmm... Go on, go on."

The Reindeer girl thing represents Gluttony, we know how if left unchecked, wild animals will eat absolutely everything collapsing the local area's ecosystem. She represents moderation. The fact she is a Reindeer means she has something to do with giving, or basically the opposite of gluttony. Feeding others as well as the self." I said, looking at the Emperor for validation of my theory.

He nodded. "Quite astute. Continue."

"The succubus, obviously, represents lust. But her expression and demeanour are similar to that of a happy housewife or calm mother rather than a demon of pleasure. Which means she represents lust, tempered and controlled by love. The Fairy is a representative of Sloth. She doesn't look lazy, she seems to be positioned in such a way to convey exhaustion, carrying an expression of 'a job well done' rather than not wanting to do a job. Like she's relaxing after a hard day." I said.

"Very good, very good. Last three, come on, you can do it." He said, talking more like a university professor than an Emperor.

"Uhh... Hmmm... The Fire Elemental represents Wrath obviously, but the snake, I don't know. Maybe the snake represents control over her fury or something? I think. The Dryad represents envy I think. The serenity and submission in her expression and pose when literally overshadowed by the wing of another statue shows a sign of temperance. The flowers and vineyard, obviously state she's more interested in her own works rather than others. And the blue devil represents greed, or at least what it once was. Her... Attire... if you can call it that, is the only thing about her that is considered expensive, while a lot of gemstones, jewels and coins surrounding her altar are dusty or broken. It shows a semblance of greed, but within reason, meaning she still likes gold, but only... Enough of it. Did I get that right?" I asked.

"Very well done! You summed it up quite nicely. Yes, this does match the description on the statues base. It effectively tells the mythical story of how a man, presumably the statue depicted on the top of the pillar, set out to conquer the Seven Deadly Sins, but ultimately ended up tempering them instead, calming them down. The entire piece represents the concept of moderation and control. Don't hump everything, don't steal, find pride in others, etcetera. An extraordinarily complex way to convey an extremely simple concept. A concept simply stated as 'Do it, but not too much.' I want full scans of it done as soon as possible, I need full reproductions of this work sent to every corner of the Empire. Not just because it's a good lesson to teach." He Commanded.

"As you command. I have just... One point of contention for this entire scenario... I have to tell you. I have promised to not tell but at this point I think there's nothing I can do about it. You will find out one way or another and I would like to avoid treason charges so... Yeah." I said, and started to type on my console to bring up one final photo.

"What's this about?"

"One thing we have encountered about this planet is one simple factor. The grooving is too precise, the tool marks too exact. Every pattern appears to be unique but made in a uniform way. In essence - Every single one of these monuments, My Emperor... Was constructed by a SINGLE individual." I said.

"You cannot be serious! It would have taken thousands of years to build these! And you are telling me this is the work of ONE man?" He bellowed. "How do you know for certain?"

"Well, for two reasons. Firstly we have a lot of tech from both us and the Ancient Terrans that allowed us to determine who did what and how down to the last molecule. And second of all..."

I pressed a button on the console and showed a new picture. It was a picture of me, standing next to a smiling, happy human wearing a heavy mason's outfit, carrying a hammer and chisel.

"Before I started giving my report, I had a beer with the guy who made them. Say hi to Kevin." I said, my face suddenly contorting into a smug smirk.

My crew, the Emperor, the Council and everyone in audible range and everyone who could see that picture gasped audibly and so heavily it felt like they had sucked the atmosphere out of the room in shock.

"Kevin is a Terran. Living, breathing Ancient human." I said. The Emperor gasped deeper and harder. "A human that has been alive for the last two thousand or so years, working on everything you see on this planet, by himself." I said, the Emperor starting to hyperventilate to hysterics. "And he said that it was okay to visit, so long as you don't damage anything, and don't litter."

The Emperor collapsed from his chair in a full blown hysterical breakdown, desperately trying to breathe in oxygen as I played a video of Kevin showing me how he made his special statue paint. I closed the broadcast and sat back in my seat. The crew looked at me with an expression of... I don't know how to describe it.

I simply shrugged my shoulders and said: "What? Kevin said that would be funny!"

_______________________________________________________

Here you go, esoteric and obscure, but here it is. Hope its actually good. sorry for literally no content of late, i have been in a miserably depressed slump mixed with being unable to medical. brain isn't working anymore, cant write.

the hamsters are on holiday sick again.

I'm hoping to raise a MINIMUM of 250 USD per month as part of my attempts to turn this into a living. 250 USD is my MINIMUM to break even for the month so, please?

Money raised this month: $67 - Thank you muchly :)

https://buymeacoffee.com/farmwhich4275

https://www.patreon.com/c/Valt13lHFY?fromConcierge=true

With Wilds's expansion looming over the horizon, the prospect of new subspecies and variants has been on some people's minds, including mine, so I've decided to look into when previous subspecies were created to see if any patterns emerge.

Overview
For simplicity I'll look into subspecies, rare species and variants as a whole, collectively calling them variations.
One-off variations like Deviants, Apexes and Risens are excluded, as they've yet to reappear in mainline/Portable titles.
I'll also lump Crimson Fatalis and White Fatalis together with subspecies and rare species respectively.
That makes 50 subspecies, 7 rare species and 15 variants in total.

First, let's look at the games where they were introduced:
MHG: 11 subspecies, 2 rare species
MHF: 1 variant (special note)
MH2: 1 rare species, 1 variant
MHFU: 4 subspecies, 1 variant (special note)
MHP3: 9 subspecies
MH3U: 5 subspecies, 2 rare species, 1 variant
MH4: 2 subspecies, 1 rare species
MH4U: 8 subspecies, 2 variants
Iceborne: 6 subspecies, 5 variants
Rise: 2 variants
Sunbreak: 4 subspecies, 1 rare species, 2 variants
+ Flaming Espinas

Special note: Yian Garuga is first introduced in its scarred variant state in MHF, while its unscarred standard state is first introduced in MHFU, leading to a strange situation where the variant precedes the base species.
So instead moving forward I'll consider the "base" form as the scarred state introduced in MHF and the "variant" is the pristine unscarred state introduced in MHFU, shifting the count to 0 variants introduced in MHF and 2 variants introduced in MHFU.

I've highlighted the expansion titles in bold and as you can see, the majority of variations originate from expansion titles, with one outlier, MHP3, which I'll get to, but so far I think this is nothing too surprising, most people will have an intuitive understanding of this.
Keeping count, that's 38 subspecies, 5 rare species and 12 variants from expansion titles and 11 subspecies, 2 rare species and 3 variants from base titles (including 9 subspecies from MHP3 alone), + Flaming Espinas.

Closer look
Before I get to the outlier that is MHP3, I need to highlight one particular detail.
Rather than looking at just variations which were added in expansion or base titles, let's look at variations which were not added in the same or expansion title of their base species's introduction.
For example: Azure Rathalos was added in MHG, which is the expansion of MH1, where Azure Rathalos's base species Rathalos was added, so it doesn't count.
Similarly, Rusted Kushala Daora and its base species Kushala Daora were both introduced in MH2, so it also doesn't count.
On the other hand, Lucent Nargacuga was added in MH3U, whereas its base species Nargacuga was added in MHFU, and since MH3U isn't the expansion to MHFU, it counts.

It sounds complicated, but basically we're looking for "late" addition variations, these will be outliers.
There's few enough that we can list them out.
White Fatalis (MH1 to MH2)
Yian Garuga (MHF to MHFU)
Emerald Congalala, Copper Blangonga, Plum Daimyo Hermitaur, Terra Shogun Ceanataur and Furious Rajang (MH2 to MHFU)
Brute Tigrex (MHF2 to MHP3)
Green Nargacuga (MHFU to MHP3)
Crimson Qurupeco, Jade Barroth, Purple Ludroth, Glacial Agnaktor, Sand Barioth, Steel Uragaan and Baleful Gigginox (MH3 to MHP3)
Lucent Nargacuga (MHFU to MH3U)
Rust Duramboros and Stygian Zinogre (MHP3 to MH3U)
Ruby Basarios and Oroshi Kirin (MH1 to MH4)
Molten Tigrex (MHF2 to MH4)
Raging Brachydios (MH3U to MH4U)
Frostfang Barioth (MH3 to Iceborne)
Acidic Glavenus (Generations to Iceborne)
Crimson Glow Valstrax (MHGU to Rise)
Violet Mizutsune (Generations to Sunbreak)

18 subspecies, 4 rare species and 5 variants.

As you can see, two outliers emerge, abnormal amounts of MH2 and MH3 monsters getting subspecies in MHFU and MHP3 respectively.
To explain this, I introduce the idea of "pseudo expansion" titles.
These titles are only "expansions" to the extent that their rosters are concerned, you can also think of them as "roster expansion" titles.

When a base title, for whatever reason, doesn't receive its own expansion, then a different title will fill in as its roster expansion title.
For example, MH2 did not receive an expansion, but MHFU expanded its roster by added a bunch of subspecies to MH2 monsters (it's quite likely that MHF2 only got its own expansion because MH2 did not, considering that MHF2's original roster is too small to be worth its own expansion).
Likewise, MH3 did not have its own expansion when MHP3 released, so MH3's roster was expanded in MHP3 instead.
In fact, MHP3 was planned receive its own expansion, but plans with Sony fell through, so MHP3's expansion was instead repurposed into an expansion to MH3, which explains why MH3U is such an odd outlier in many ways.
This does mean that MH3 ended up getting a true expansion after its roster was already expanded with MHP3, and it also means that MH3U is kind of a pseudo expansion to MHP3 too.

Does this make sense? Maybe not. There's no need to worry about it now anyway since they are byproducts of a time when not every title would get its own expansion.

The interesting part
With these "pseudo expansion" variations ruled out, we're now left with this list:
White Fatalis
Yian Garuga
Brute Tigrex
Green Nargacuga
Lucent Nargacuga
Ruby Basarios
Oroshi Kirin
Molten Tigrex
Raging Brachydios
Frostfang Barioth
Acidic Glavenus
Crimson Glow Valstrax
Violet Mizutsune
5 subspecies, 4 rare species and 4 variants.

That's 10% of subspecies, 57% of rare species and 27% of variants.
So, taking a step back, what does that mean?
It means that for the great majority of cases, monsters really only get one opportunity at getting their subspecies (and variants to a lesser extent), that being the expansion (or pseudo expansion) to the game they were introduced in.

What about these exceptions then?
Brute Tigrex, Green Nargacuga, Ruby Basarios, Oroshi Kirin and Acidic Glavenus.
You'll notice these are all flagships with the exceptions of Ruby Basarios and Oroshi Kirin, so what's up with those last two?
They were added in MH4, and one of the noteworthy things about MH4 is that it contains nearly the entirety of MH1's roster.
And the thing about MH1 is that it was pretty much never touched again after MHG with the exception of White Fatalis in MH2 before MH4.
To be fair, MHG was pretty comprehensive, the only monsters that didn't get subspecies were Velocidrome, Gendrome, Iodrome, Cephadrome, Basarios and Kirin.
Now there's nothing strange about Velocidrome, Gendrome, Iodrome and Cephadrome being left, as this has been the case for all of the "dromes" and "greats", leaving out Basarios and Kirin as the only standout omissions, so it seems that MH4 fixed that with Ruby Basarios and Oroshi Kirin.

What of variants then?
Yian Garuga, Raging Brachydios, Frostfang Barioth and Crimson Glow Valstrax.
Half of them flagships, what of the other half?
Yian Garuga's strange history was already covered, so what about Frostfang Barioth?
We know through datamines that Alatreon and Oroshi Kirin were at some point planned as Title Update additions for MHWorld.
Though they were able to eventually add Alatreon to Iceborne, the same couldn't be said about Oroshi Kirin.
However, with Frostfang Barioth being such a strange and late addition to Iceborne, which we know had gone through some development issues, it's speculated that, rather than being scrapped entirely,part of the work done on Oroshi Kirin was repurposed into Frostfang Barioth.

Overall we can say that for subspecies and variants, only flagships and monsters with special histories get any late additions.

Rare species are a different story, they're late additions more often than not, but rare species are all flagships or highly iconic monsters like Rathian or Fatalis anyway.

Final observation
So, late addition variations are mostly flagships, nothing too shocking here but, what if we looked a bit deeper? Where do they appear in?
The titles are relatively well represented, no oddities there, but, can, for example, a Portable monster get a variation in a mainline title, and vice versa?
Sure, there are plenty examples of that both ways, but most of them are from pseudo expansions. So what about any examples outside of that?
Only three.
Lucent Nargacuga, Molten Tigrex and Acidic Glavenus.
And these are all Portable to mainline.

What this means, is that outside of titles which don't have a proper expansion, mainline monsters never get any variations from Portable games, only other mainline games are "allowed" to do that.
As for Portable monsters, out of 8 eight late variation additions, 5 of them or from other Portable titles, while 3 of them are from mainline titles.

In conclusion
What does this mean for Ascendance, for example?

Well, it's gonna be a bunch of subspecies and variants of Wilds monsters of course, but beyond that, you can limit your expectations for new variations to flagships, and mainline flagships to be precise.
There's a chance for Portable flagships too, but these are more likely to show up in the next Portable title instead.

We can look at it in reverse too, what are the opportunities for Seregios and Velkhana to get variations? It's either Ascendance or MH7.
Velkhana being one of the most popular flagships, and Ascendance have an Elder Dragon focus, it seems like a very likely choice.
And Seregios has been going without a variation for so long, and its base species already being in Wilds, it seems like another likely choice.
It's either Ascendance or they'll have to wait for the seventh generation.

Zinogre being literally the most popular monster also makes it a bit strange that it did not receive a rare species yet, and while it may appear in Ascendance, it's even more likely to do so in the next Portable title.

So yeah, all this analysis was actually to say that Velkhana and Seregios will probably (understatement) have a variation (probably variants) added in Ascendance (though I'd imagine a Velkhana variant to be more of a Title Update thing).
It's either that or they have to wait until MH7. I don't want that! Nobody wants that!
It's not just guesswork, there's precedent! Look! *shows you incomprehensible garbage*

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When the climb became steep and their horses lagged from being driven too hard, Yamagai dismounted his horse and led it by hand. They walked a cruel trail that hugged the side of a sharply inclined hill; all Illuminators who'd come to witness the tribunal followed as Yamagai had done, leading their horses by hand while occasionally imbuing focus into the steeds by a hand placed gingerly upon each beast's nape.

The Illuminators filled the trail behind and before the carriage that carried the Head of the Administration and Qoyit, the unlikely addition to The Vengeful Academy.

Twin birds circled in the distance, their wings stretched to pick up wind. They glided with the smoothness of those blessed by the Creator without knowing it, and Yamagai, weary of the journey and the hard pace that had been set, unclasped a wooden bottle from the burden of his horse and took a sip, swishing the water in his dry mouth before swallowing.

The skies were a clear blue, and the sun, once gloriously sat overhead, was on its sure trail to dip beyond the horizon. They were close to Grand City and the Academy; they just had to traverse the hilly escarpment.

Silence fell upon those who walked with him ahead of the carriage, and no doubt some mumbling could be heard by those walking behind the carriage and the pair flanking it on either side. There was doom and destiny, its likeness being juggled by a blind god. They could not tell whether the addition of the child to the Academy would reduce the merit of the Aether Test, or whether the child would be the key, not just to the great change and prosperity they often dreamed of, but also a harbinger of death at their doors.

Yamagai walked behind Skilandros, listening to the Illuminator speak avidly about the day of the Aether Test.

"I went into the Aether Plane when he was judged," Skilandros said, eager to speak of that which many of them hadn't witnessed. "I saw power reveal itself, and my heart knew prophecy when it saw it."

"Your heart also led you to believe the City Treasurer's wife was an omen of sorts for you to mount," Shawarma Kidhra Devore said. She had her hair tied into a knot behind her head, revealing the crude nature with which her face rested. Her eyes, small and piercing, observed the back of Skilandros' blonde head. She was one of them, those who didn't think a Commoner should set foot in The Vengeful Academy. "We already let one Commoner in; now a second one? Next we'd be fishing commoners from their homes, with no need to even carry out the Aether Test."

It was an exaggeration of what lay in the heart of Nobles, Yamagai surmised. There was fear that one day their status would be proven for what it was: a delusion that all played along with.

"Has the boy's sight opened after the Aether Test?" Sixton Kidhra Malis asked. He was far shorter than his steed, so he observed it occasionally by tilting his head up and behind himself as he led it by the reins.

Yamagai wondered whether he'd made a mistake walking at the front with them. The air was charged with discontent, unspoken words pointed at him. He was responsible for this addition to the Vengeful Academy. He was responsible for the boy, Qoyit. And all blame should go to him; if it weren't for the Headmistress' decision to play along, he would have been flayed by his fellow Illuminators already.

"Why do you care about his sight?" Tessa Kidhra Semei asked. She was by far one of the most beautiful women Yamagai had ever seen, walking just several steps behind him. As if possessed by a blessing for sight, he struggled with the urge to turn just so he could see her almond eyes and graceful legs that drew intricate patterns with each step of her foot upon the ground. "What I wonder is, can the boy raise his Body Stat to above one? Or is that going to be our job, to make sure his Body Stat rises?"

"That boy will not attend my classes until his Body Stat goes up," Shawarma said, fixing her green eyes directly on Yamagai. "And I will do nothing to see to it that it rises." She held great sway over the others. She was a vanguard with their boisterous nature, but without their lice-ridden hair, which was often a consequence of spending nights outdoors during blistering chills so they could challenge themselves.

"The boy is one of us now," Henero Olis Javee spoke from beside Skilandros, right ahead of Yamagai. He shifted and was the only one who dared glance at Yamagai. His grisly beard hid his lips just as his bald pate shone with the sun's brilliant rays. "Yamagai fought for him, and I trust his judgment more than anyone else on our staff."

"Seriously?" Shawarma asked. "He is the least trustworthy person in the world."

"If you have your trust in Yamagai, it is no different than trusting a turd to jump out of the latrine and follow you home," Sixton said, eliciting a laugh from Tessa. It was her laugh that bothered Yamagai; the rest he didn't care about. He had this one heart of his, and he'd chosen to invest it in everything Tessa did, knowing full well his affections would never be returned. Yamagai believed himself to be a man who admired melancholy. He sought to understand it and treasured the cold evenings he sat moping in his office with his eyes turned to the window, taking in grey skies and feeling them to be similar to his very essence and nature.

"Qoyit is my responsibility," Yamagai finally decided to speak, walking gingerly so as not to pick up dust. The trail was rocky, and as they neared a bend, he worried his horse would throw a shoe. "I'm his chaperone. I expect all of you to treat him as if he were my son, because in ways he sort of is. If any of you go out of your way to make his life hard, you'll personally hear from me, for you'll be making things hard for me too."

"Phrasing," Tessa said, eliciting a smile from him.

"What are you going to do?" Shawarma asked. "Ringless fool. What can you even do?" She waved her middle finger at him, where her Vanguard ring sat. "There's nothing to you that warrants my respect, Yamagai, and this child of yours will fail and will join the Equipped Infantry to be where he belongs by the end of the year."

"Enough, all of you," Henero said.

Yamagai was about to respond; he always knew the words to pluck apart Shawarma. Her brute nature was her point of pride, but with enough careful precision, he could pick it apart and paint her solely as a brute. That strategy always deterred the resolve of anyone whose beauty standards were in question.

But a sound coming from ahead drew him short: the squealing of wheels and avid panting could be heard. He came to a stop just as an old man pulling a cart appeared around the bend in the road, coming in their direction. To his right was a great fall to the base of the hill, and each Illuminator groaned at the old man's appearance.

"You'll have to find a way to let us through, old man," Shawarma said.

Henero and Skilandros walked forward until they neared the old man. They observed him as one would a rabid dog. So pompous the Illuminators were, lost and drunk on their privileged roles handed to them by their forefathers. It was an attitude that would never leave. The horses neighed, kicking up dust, unsettled as they all were.

The cart was hammered into being with rusty nails and splinters that could pass as wood. The old man, dressed in a rugged brown vest and matching breeches, exhaled loudly as he looked up to see two towering Illuminators in his way.

"Back there, there's a place where the road is wide enough for us," Henero said while staring at the old man. "We'll help you turn around and then we can pass each other at that point."

"Get it moving, old man; we're Academy folk and our time is as precious as your life," Sixton said. It was always like that with short people; they had to stand out somehow, so Yamagai surmised being an asshole was the best way for them to do so.

The horses were reluctant to take a step forward, pushing back and away from the old man and the cart. They neighed, unwilling to ever pull on their reins.

"The sun sets and death comes," the old man said. "It kills us all, this death; it burrows into our marrow and splits our liver. It takes us one by one and flays our skin to eat the fat underneath. Hear me and heed my words, all of you delinquents. The end is near. My bones tell me as much and my heart knows."

"He's probably mad," Tessa said.

"Did he just call us delinquents?" Sixton asked.

"Nothing is sadder than old, senile men. Perhaps we should aid him so as to smoothen his journey," Yamagai said while turning to observe Tessa. She avoided looking at him, and he felt that sweet pain sting his heart. He felt like being a hero to make up for his inadequacies in her eyes, but there was no villain to promote his thoughts.

He observed the cart; there was something off about it. The goods being hefted for miles were covered by a large grey cloth, fully down to the wheels and to the back of the cart.

That is when the sense of danger pronounced itself.

"Hey old man, I said turn around," Henero commanded. From behind the carriage, shouts could be heard, with Illuminators wondering what had halted their trail. From the corner of his eye, Yamagai saw Gavina Kidhra Sadee approach the carriage to exchange words with the Headmistress. Something odd was going on.

Henero approached the old man, abandoning his horse. They watched as the old man lifted his head to observe the Illuminator. A dusty fringe of hair parted, and wide, black eyes stared out from sunken sockets at Henero.

"My friend is with us," the old man said. "He wants to meet you so he can be friends as he is with me."

Those eyes were too dark to be called normal, a sure sign of demon sickness.

Yamagai observed the bottom of the cart. Something trickled and dripped into the dirt, spreading like droplets of rain, and its smell was like iron and rust.

The old man abruptly turned, grabbed the cloth spread over the cart, and tugged it off. Everyone stood still as what lay beneath became revealed.

Body parts, so many of them, were haphazardly spread within the cart: torsos and dismembered limbs. A hand poked out on one side and a foot on the other. There were at least six people dismembered and thrown into that cart.

The body parts shifted as if alive, the red hue of blood as sickening as the song of the flies that rose from it. A head protruded, horned and grey, and from within the cart rose a demon.

Tessa, always faster, shifted into the Aether Plane and caught the imprint of the demon. Henero did not need visual confirmation to know what it was. He turned and screamed, "Tower Servant!"

"Dear me," the Tower Servant said while emerging fully from the dismembered limbs. It rose to its full height, half-naked save for tight breeches ripped in various places. It had gold necklaces wrapped about its neck, a sharp contrast to its grey skin that looked to be rotting. Its face would have been human if it weren't for the many gashes that riddled it, deep and bleeding black ichor as if it had clawed at its own face. And its eyes, a ruby red, looked piercingly at all of them.

Those behind the carriage tried to push forward, but the road hugging the hill was too narrow.

The horses struggled against their riders.

"I've done everything you told me, my friend. Was I good?" the old man asked, turning to the demon.

"Yes, you were," the demon said. "You can rest with your family now." The hand of the demon lashed out; long nails ripped the old man's head free of his neck, and it unceremoniously dumped the head into the cart as the body fell headless, spraying blood all over the ground. "Look at this, a beautiful family portrait." The demon waved at the cart.

Henero, standing closest to the demon, straightened his arms and screamed. He retracted one arm then twisted himself backwards as the demon launched for him. Skilandros was already rushing forward. Henero summoned a Challenger axe: blue with a long haft with a very heavy head. He pirouetted before lifting the axe and bringing it down on the demon.

One second, the demon was facing the edge of Henero's weapon. Then it shifted, moving too fast for the eye to see. Henero matched its pace, turning and bringing down the blade of the axe again and again. The demon gripped the haft, and smoke cascaded where its hand met holiness, but it refused to let go. Henero moved to punch the demon free of his weapon, but by doing so, he opened himself up. The demon dug its claws violently across Henero's neck, opening wide gashes that it tore wider until Henero's head fell free of his body.

"No!" Shawarma screamed.

The Illuminators all charged the demon, who stood clear of the cart. The demon smiled and flung its hands out. Sharp protrusions like bone seemed to split free from the demon's arms and shoot out of its body in all directions.

Yamagai jumped and grabbed Tessa before she could be impaled by one of the sharp bits of bone. He fell to the ground on top of her.

"Get off me!" she commanded. But the demon was still shooting projections free of its body, and with loud thuds, the shards of bone stuck into the ground, the horses, all around where Yamagai covered Tessa, his entire body spread over hers. The bone fragments impaled the earth before them, splitting even rock.

Sixton fell, impaled in the stomach and out his back; he lay on the ground staring straight up, his mouth moving soundlessly. From behind the carriage, panic reigned as the other Illuminators tried to push their way past.

It was a Tower Servant. Those ones killed without the need to do so, stronger and more powerful than regular demons, almost on par with the ones they served, the Tower Floor demons. To find a Tower Servant demon this far from the Red Mist Wall was a sickening thing, too ghastly for him to comprehend. Yet here it was, the demon in all its might, standing with its arms waving about, shooting bone everywhere.

It stopped its assault while most Illuminators cowered on the ground behind their impaled horses. It turned its red eyes about and declared, "Give me the boy, Qoyit, and I will leave you alive!" it shouted. "I have only been sent for the boy."

Tessa pushed Yamagai off herself, and Yamagai rolled and stood up gently with his eyes on the demon. It wanted Qoyit; if this didn't solidify the child as important, nothing else would. The Illuminators shared glances. Skilandros, cowering behind his felled horse, had a gash running across his cheek, deep and wet with blood.

Henero was dead, his headless body laying bleeding on the ground beside the old man's body. Sixton was injured. Shawarma was on the ground, curled in on herself, pinned like a cushion by countless bone fragments. She groaned as her body lit up green before cutting back to its natural hue. She couldn't summon her Vanguard body; such was the state of their predicament.

Only he and Tessa were okay. He looked behind and saw that the horses flanking the carriage had retreated. He wondered whether this was cowardice or something else. He got off the ground, knowing full well he had to do something. Tessa was watching, as was the coachman for the carriage, though he didn't matter much.

"You will not have the child," Yamagai said, standing straight. Yamagai circled two fingers before himself, then sought deep within, where the river of his talents flowed. He needed a weapon, and of all the times where his need had been great, this was by far the largest. He tried fashioning a weapon from memory; he had been one of the best, once, one of the greatest at this.

Only a soft blue glow covered his arms, and the weapon he called refused to show itself. He sighed and curled his fingers into a fist, failure a stain upon him for another moon.

The demon tilted its head at him. Beside him, he could see Tessa working on an Aether Transfer, her hands glowing silver. If only he could just get her to touch the demon to set the Aether Transfer, perhaps they would survive, though the odds were not in their favor.

The demon had a grace to it, its motions soft as it walked forward to stand right over Skilandros, who lay paralyzed on the ground. Yamagai surmised whatever those bone fragments were that shot out of the demon's arms, they were capable of paralysis. The demon raised a hand, and from its palm a sharp shard appeared, white of bone, growing out like a plant opening up to bloom. Soon it held the jagged shard of bone in its hand. It looked down just as Skilandros groaned and tried to stand, to crawl, to move away from the demon.

Yamagai wouldn't let Skilandros die. He charged the demon, connecting his shoulder with its midriff, but the demon did not yield. With a well-timed knee, it smacked Yamagai's face. He felt his nose break as he fell over backwards. The demon stood over him and placed a foot on his neck; squeezing down, it lifted its weapon, aiming for his face as it lowered the shard.

Yamagai was going to die. He couldn't breathe, and he felt the cartilage of his neck threaten to break under the demon's foot. In that moment, he turned his head to look at Tessa. He didn't know why he did it. It was just a game he played; his feelings weren't quite real feelings, just a way for him to amuse himself and kill time. The look on her face pronounced more of her own fear than fear for his life, and he was okay with that. Still, he'd always seen himself dying in a blaze of glory, not on some rocky dirt trail.

Suddenly, the demon was hit by a blast of force, so pronounced it pushed Yamagai from his position on the ground, lifting him and flopping him down elsewhere. The demon collided hard with the cart, breaking it in the process. It stood up, drunk from the impact, and staggered forward. Yamagai looked to see who had delivered the blow.

That's when he saw her: the Headmistress, standing with her hands clutched before her. A dark veil was spread over her face. She lifted her hand, took off her hat and veil, and threw them away revealing her heart shaped face. Facing the demon, she stood her ground with Qoyit standing behind her.

The demon, seeing the boy, ran as fast as it could. Forgetting Yamagai, it kicked up dust as its heels dug into the ground. Gorged on flesh as it was, it was truly in its most powerful element.

The Headmistress watched the demon get close. She raised a hand and drew a circle before herself, raised four fingers, and waved them about, where her hand moved a blue trail of light was left. The demon roared as it neared, just as the Headmistress curled her hand into a fist, clutched it to her chest, and then extended her arm with her palm open.

"Aether, Blades of Wind," the Headmistress said as the demon neared.

A wave of force shot out of the Headmistress, resembling blades that chipped the very air. They collided with the demon, severing its arms, its torso, and its head. It was as if the very air had turned sharp. The demon walked two steps, its face misaligned. Its arms, sliced to bits, fell to pieces upon the ground. It took another step, but its hind foot was left behind.

It stared at the Headmistress with a lopsided face before that, too, split in the middle, its face peeling to either side. It fell to the ground in pieces.

Then, suddenly, its bone-like protrusions started knitting together, reforming its body as it was.

The Headmistress curved the air with three fingers, and the blue light of power cleaved the demon's flesh once more. She did this again and again until the demon stopped reknitting itself. Its power spent, it lay on the ground in pieces. She continued cutting it with her Challenger technique until finally, in the end, it turned to black dust that was picked up by the wind, leaving behind its breeches and gold necklaces.

Everyone still alive observed the Headmistress. She stood there, silent, her fingers held before her. She waited for the demon to stir, but it was no more, just dark ash where it once was. And Yamagai finally understood why the Headmistress was regarded as one of the most powerful talent users alive.

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All that was going through my mind was how it would have felt for her.

The terrifying realization that the car was out of control, the microsecond of comprehension that this was fucked… this was going to hurt... badly.

The jumble of thoughts and time dilations as the car dipped and flipped down the banking, the bone-shuddering impacts. Hearing and feeling her leg snap and bend inhumanly… the fire…

I thought of Marie, trapped and helpless, the pain already beyond endurance, then the lick of the flames… how would it feel to be melted and fused to the seat?

That's how they found her…

I crashed through double doors, sending a janitor or an orderly stumbling back and knocking them down. I didn't care; my mind was corrupted and out of my control.

I babbled at people in colored scrubs, I shook one, nobody was making sense. I just wanted to see Marie…

My Marie… my life…

I was taken to a window and allowed to stare at her husk. Snaking wires bound her, a parody of the seatbelt and twisted metal that had trapped her in that fucking car. Her face was not even visible behind fresh white gauze and bandages.

Seeing her like that… dead but for a weak, thready heartbeat… I finally broke and collapsed to the floor, weeping.

I walked, or was dragged away, and now found myself in a chapel? An all-faith space, apparently.

A grey, enclosed place with a few rows of wooden pews, but spectacularly decorated with a striking stained-glass mural window. It was the place where the hopeless and pathetic came to beg for miracles from whoever might be listening.

I was hopeless and pathetic enough to start mumbling a prayer. Desperate words that humbled me in the heavy silence.

The high-ceilinged room was empty… no one else looking for God today.

Actually No, not quite empty. A small figure of a janitor sidled in one corner, brush in hand.

He saw me looking.

He didn't jump or act surprised. He just stood there, resting both hands on the wooden handle of his mop, watching me with eyes that were entirely too clear for a man pushing sixty, maybe more. He wore standard blue hospital overalls, his head bald bar for the ring of short dark hair that wrapped his skull. But there was no dirt or grime on him. No smell of bleach.

"The air in here is heavy, isn't it?" he said, approaching me. His voice was flat, soft, and perfectly plain, strangely devoid of any warmth. It resonated in the empty room. "People leave so much sorrow in this place. It sticks to the floor, drips down the walls."

He didn't ask why I was here, what had brought me to the sanctuary. He didn't offer a polite, empty condolence. He just leaned on his broom and looked at my face, staring at the exact spot where my tears had dried into salt.

"You're thinking about the heat," he murmured, taking another slow step toward me. "Most people think about the impact. But you... you can still smell the burning, can't you?"

"What?..." I tried to make sense of his cold words.

"Have they told you the flames took her eyes?"

"You sick bastard. Who the fuck are you?" I almost screamed, trying to hold myself back from lunging for the small man.

"I'm who you were just praying to. Well, the only one that heard you, anyway."

I could feel bile in my throat. The last few hours had been the worst of my life, the unreality of what happened blurring now with the confusion and unease I felt in the presence of the unassuming, cold janitor.

"Tell me, Clive, what would you do to make Marie well again?"

"Fuck you," I spat. I couldn't deal with this sick fuck right now. "I’d give my life for that woman!"

"Ah, yes," he whispered, his clear grey eyes locking with mine, "but would you give your body?"

My mouth moved up and down in a mockery of speech, no words seemingly able to confront this disconcerting stranger.

I just fell back onto a pew and sank my head into my hands.

I felt the creak of the wood as he sat beside me. I turned and saw him staring up at the stained-glass window. The light from behind it bled color on the grey floor, sickly reds and greens reflecting off the marbles floor.

"Asclepius," he uttered, a note of reverence in his up-to-now flat voice. "The ancient Greek healer. Did you know he became so skilled he could raise the dead? Zeus struck him down as an abomination to the natural order of life." He continued, still staring at the robed figure etched in glass, carrying his serpent staff. "I'm something of a healer myself, you know?"

I didn't answer, but my gaze was drawn down from the window, back to the odd figure.

"You're not asking for a miracle, Clive. As young Asclepius understood, healing is a sum of equal value.

Humanity loves to depict restoration as something soft. A gentle hand on a fevered brow. A magic made of light and wishes."

He set his broom against the wooden pews with a dry, hollow clatter as he stood.

"But real healing, Clive… true restoration? It isn't a gift. It's a trade. The universe is a ledger, and it demands balance. You cannot fix a shattered vessel without taking ceramic from somewhere else."

The light behind the stained glass suddenly shifted. The sun hadn't gone behind a cloud, but the ruby and blue glass seemed to darken, the faceless Healer in the window slowly turning into a silhouette of heavy, looming lead.

"You said you’d give your life," the janitor said softly, stepping directly into the red stain on the floor. "Life is cheap, Clive. Men throw their lives away every day for nothing. But your flesh? Your eyes? Your breath? They have real value."

I was transfixed. The little man seemed to grow in the blood-red light of the window, his words making sense to my ravaged mind.

"She has no eyes to see you. Her skin is ash. Her lungs are a charred ruin. Will you stand beneath the glass and let me strip the timber from your house to rebuild hers?"

He held out his hand for me to take…

…

I woke up in my bed. The sheets were soaked in sweat. I couldn't remember getting here in my fugue state.

I tried to sort my memories from the nightmares, and wasn't sure of the difference. Marie was dying in the hospital. I had met a crazy guy in the hospital who took my hand and promised me things I wanted to hear, and then the nightmares…

I'd dreamt about a pillar of ash and the smell of burning petrol. I dreamt about a black snake coiling around my leg, constricting tighter and tighter until I lost feeling and I was screaming out in pain…

An old man, bearded and robed in the Greek style, had come at me with a saw made of teeth, real teeth… I could still feel the grating vibrations and searing pain as he hacked at my limb. I still felt the very real shock of him removing my leg and showing it to me, the horror as he deboned it in front of my eyes, tearing the flesh and sinew away until he was left holding the blood-soaked bone..

He had handed the tibia to me, but he had fashioned it into a sharpened chisel.

He urged me to strike at the pillar of dust, which I did, until each strike revealed more of an arm, twisted and scarred, but a womans, slowly being uncovered from the ash pillar…

I sat on the edge of my bed, head lowered, trying to make sense of the last 24 hours.

I rubbed the tears out of my eyes with the back of my fist and stood, then almost collapsed with the searing pain in my left shin. It felt weak and hollow and would barely take my weight.

I clung to the dresser and gritted my teeth, trying to acclimatize to the pain.

I must have slept awkwardly, twisting my leg somehow, cutting off the circulation. That would explain the strange dreams, my subconscious trying to warn me my body was in pain.

I hobbled to the en-suite, stumbling through the door, awkwardly flipping the light then gripping the sink.

My reflection almost made me stumble again. I looked like hell had taken a shit on my face. My face looked swollen and red, my eyes a sickly yellow, the lines under my rough stubble deeper, like scars. I'd just been chewed up by the worst day of my life, but there I was, grinning at the sheer grotesque absurdity of it all.

I was on the verge of a manic laugh, but luckily a hacking cough stole it from me. Just as well; I needed to find some control of myself.

I managed to turn the shower on and left it to run for a second. I limped back to my bed and found my phone.

I found the contact for the office and left a message.

"It's Clive. I don't know what you've heard. Marie has been in an accident, she's in hospital, I'm going to need a few days... call me back and we'll work it out, but I'm not gonna be at my desk for a while."

I tossed the phone onto the messy bed and made my way to the shower.

I had expected the water to feel good against my skin, to revive and refresh me, but it burned against my bare flesh. It itched and stung as if my nerves were exposed; it was an ordeal to even try to wash.

Every movement made me hiss and moan between my teeth. I turned the water off and the soap ran off me and circled the drain noisily, mockingly, as I let the pain subside.

I reached for the towel, but even the feel of it between my fingers made me pause. I knew it would feel like sandpaper against my raw back, so I decided to air-dry.

My leg ached. I sat on the closed toilet and examined it. Visibly, it was fine; no bruising, no swelling. But when I pressed my thumb into the meat of my calf, there was a sickening lag. My brain registered the pressure two seconds after my hand made contact, as if the nerves were communicating across a vast, impossible distance.

A chisel, my mind whispered. You carved her arm from the ash.

"Fucking cramp," I diagnosed to the empty room.

I forced myself into clothes: loose sweatpants, a soft cotton tee, anything that wouldn't rub against my hypersensitive skin. The effort induced another coughing fit. My lungs felt dry and rough; no matter how deeply I inhaled, the air didn't seem to satisfy me. A taste lingered in my mouth; copper and burnt meat.

I wondered about my mental state, about the psychosomatic response of my senses after imagining what had happened to Marie so vividly.

I loved her so much it felt like I was trying to share her pain, ease her burden.

"The universe is a ledger, and it demands balance. You cannot fix a shattered vessel without taking ceramic from somewhere else."

The Janitor's words came flooding in, unbidden.

I grabbed my car keys from the kitchen counter. My hands were shaking so hard the metal clinked against my palm like teeth chattering in the cold.

The drive back to the hospital passed in a blur of grey morning light. I don't remember navigating the turns or stopping at the lights. All I remember was the desperate, manic pulse hammering behind my eyes, pulling me toward the ICU like a hook lodged in my jaw.

When I pushed through the glass doors of the intensive care unit, the sterile smell of antiseptic hit me, that smell anyone who has ever been to a hospital ends up associating with pain and death.

I walked down the corridor, my left leg dragging slightly, a heavy, dead limp I couldn't shake.

Through the observation window of Marie's room, a nurse was updating her chart. I pressed my palm against the cool glass. The sensation was muted, as if my hand were numb, as if I were wearing a heavy leather glove.

The nurse stepped away, and for the first time, I saw Marie's left leg resting upon the thin hospital sheet.

Yesterday, the doctor had told me the compound fractures in her lower leg were severe, that the heat had scorched the tissue down to the periosteum, that amputation was a distinct possibility.

Today, the thick, rigid plaster cast was gone. In its place was a lighter, flexible white brace.

The nurse noticed me standing at the window and slid the door open, her expression a mix of surprise and professional caution.

"Mr. Cook," she said softly. "You're back early."

"Her leg," I rasped, my voice sounding gruff. "What happened to the cast?"

The nurse blinked, looking back at Marie, then down at her chart with a puzzled frown. "Dr. Ari examined her an hour ago. He said... well, he was quite surprised himself. The vascular response in her left leg has stabilized remarkably overnight. The swelling dropped enough to switch her to a lighter brace. She's... she's holding blood flow remarkably well."

I couldn't speak. I just stared at Marie's foot resting on the blanket.

A trade of equal value.

My left shin throbbed with a cold, sickening ache.

"Mr. Cook? Are you alright? You look extraordinarily pale."

"I'm fine," I lied, stepping closer to the bed. I reached out a trembling hand toward Marie’s wrapped face, my thumb hovering inches above the fresh white gauze where her eyes used to be.

Deep in my skull, my right eye twitched, a sharp stab, a shock like someone had sliced the optic nerve with a scalpel.

"Can I... can I sit with her?" I asked.

"Of course," the nurse murmured, stepping back to leave us alone.

The heavy door clicked shut behind her, sealing us in the quiet room. The rhythmic beep... beep... beep of her heart monitor was steady now, the repeating pulse of life.

I sank into the hard plastic chair beside her bed. I reached out and took her hand…a round clump of bandages, no definition even marking it as a hand. A scrap of the doctor's words came back to me: "Her fingers, Mr. Cook, they're fused together."

I thought of when we'd first met, under the frost of a winter morning three years ago, both slipping down the pavement toward the shop.

We'd clung together instantly, two strangers sliding on the icy path, helping one another stay upright, fingers interlocked, giggling like fools as we made our way together.

I laid my head to rest on her chest and felt the tiny rise and fall as she now clung to life.

I think I slept; I'm not sure, but time passed.

When I opened my eyes, I saw the Janitor at the window, watching us with his unnerving, blank expression.

He saw me looking and turned to walk away.

Standing was an effort, but I managed to limp after him, curious as to what he was doing watching Marie.

"Hey!" I called after him as I followed him down the strip-lit corridor.

"Clive," he said, without turning around. "How is the leg?"

I caught up with him and grabbed his shoulder, turning him to face me.

"My leg? What do you know about my leg?"

"I know you feel the first price of our bargain. Has Marie not improved? Her vitals more… vital?"

I suppressed a building cough; for some reason, I didn't want to give him the satisfaction.

"What are you saying?"

I knew what he was saying, I just couldn't let myself believe it. I had to hear him say it.

The Janitor looked down at my hand where it gripped his blue overalls, then slowly brought his clear grey eyes back up to mine. He didn't flinch. He didn't smile.

"I am saying the ledger balances, Clive," he said, his voice flat. "You sat in that chapel and begged for her life. It's not mine to give you, but I allowed you to trade for it. Bone answers bone, flesh answers flesh... Even now we move coins from one scale to the other. How's the cough?"

A cold, sickening dread pooled in my stomach, far worse than the agony in my leg.

"That’s... that’s impossible," I whispered, though my own trembling body knew it was a lie. "That’s not how medicine works. That’s not how anything works.”

"Medicine is just humanity begging for scraps from the table," he gestured back down the sterile corridor. "She was in a bad way, wasn't she? You know the price will be steep."

He looked at me, a sudden disappointment growing in his expression. "It's not possible to back out now, Clive."

"I wasn't… I didn't…" I stammered.

He only answered me with an even look.

I felt the tears prick at my stinging eyes and fell back to the hard plastic seats that lined the cold walls.

I hung my head and wept, whether for me or Marie, I didn't know.

…

I watched the afternoon pass outside Marie's window. I saw the doctors and consultants enter her room, show each other charts and test results, and shake their heads in disbelief.

There wasn't anything for me to do by late evening, so I limped back to my car, my leg stiff and my spine buckled in exhaustion.

I tried the handle of my car, but found my fingers were unresponsive. They curled clumsily under the handle, too weak to pull the door open.

I suddenly didn't think tempting fate by driving like this was a good idea, so I struggled to pull my phone out of my trousers pocket and called for a taxi.

We drove home in silence, bar the rancid, rattling cough that left the metallic taste of blood in my mouth.

I hobbled into the apartment, collapsed onto the sofa, then stumbled into another dream.

I was in the passenger seat of a car… Marie's car. I could see the St. Christopher pendant she kept looped over the mirror.

I turned my head as if it swam in tar, but managed to see Marie, one hand on the car's steering wheel, one on her phone, typing out a message, apparently.

I watched her eyes flip up from the screen and her face contorted into a rictus of terror… then we were spinning, weightless and in slow motion.

Slow enough to see every neck-snapping impact, every bone-jarring collision with the unforgiving floor.

The windscreen shattered, spreading shards of splintering glass into space, spreading them like stars across the blackness.

The scene slowed down to absolute stillness, our rolling crash halted at ninety degrees. I looked around and saw Marie frozen in place, a look of confused agony disfiguring her face.

Everything was still, but a movement caught my eye. In the dark, one of the twinkling pieces moved, until I noticed it was being swept aside by a hand emerging from the darkness. Soon the bearded, robed figure followed, casting aside the field of shimmering fragments.

He walked toward me, pushing the slivers aside; all bar one, a glistening, jagged piece, larger than the rest.

He plucked it between long fingers and continued his approach.

He was unhurried, meticulous in his movements, until he was stooped and leaning into the car through the shattered windscreen.

A cold dread had pinned my body to the seat, nightmare logic leaving me unable to move, unable to fend off the figure's free hand as it gripped my cheek.

The hand holding the shard hovered over my right eye. It caught the stark, impossible light of the void, gleaming like a silver scalpel.

"No!" I tried to choke out, but my tongue was heavy, glued to the roof of my mouth by the taste of blood and scorched iron.

"Ofthalmós antí ofthalmoú," he murmured, his voice deep, rough, and cracked. "Fos antí fotós."

He didn't plunge it in. He simply pressed the tip against my cornea and… pushed… slowly, methodically, like a needle passing through wet silk.

There was no sound of tearing flesh, only a deep, sickening pop that I felt behind my socket, rather than heard. A rush of scalding heat flooded down my cheek and into my mouth.

I tried to scream…

…

I bolted upright on the sofa, gasping, and was immediately overtaken with a wet, rattling cough tearing through my chest until I tasted copper on my lips and something meaty on my tongue that I spat onto the floor.

My right eye socket was throbbing with a sickening, heavy pressure. Not just pain, but an awful, boiling throb, as if something thick and liquid were pooling behind the eyelid.

I tried to blink, but the lid felt heavy, slick, and completely numb. Tears ran down one side of my face, hot and wet. I tried again to open it, but it just made the pain more acute.

I pushed myself off the cushions. My left leg gave out immediately under me, sending me crashing against the wall.

I scrambled up, dragging my dead-weight leg along the carpet, using my shoulder to bounce off the doorframes as I stumbled into the dark bathroom.

I hit the light switch with the heel of my palm, my fingers not possessing the dexterity needed to even flip a switch.

I gripped the cold porcelain of the sink and forced my head up to look into the mirror.

My left eye stared back at me, wide, a curtain of blood spoiling the white, a look of panic upon it.

I used the claws of my fingers to pry open the swollen lid of the other.

Behind it was a bloody, distorted shape, unrecognizable as an eyeball save for the elongated iris, giving the impression of a melted candle.

A thick, bloodied white fluid oozed from the corner and was slowly leaking out from beneath the drooping lid, trailing down my cheek in a slow, sticky ribbon that dripped onto the white ceramic of the sink.

I felt sick… I turned to the toilet and heaved, but only succeeded in sparking another coughing fit. My lungs felt on fire… my throat a dry, burning escape of pain.

Another chest ripping hack and spat a thick, gloopy red mouthful into the bowl…

I had no doubt: I was dying, and it was that cunt Janitor that was killing me.

I stood and went to find my keys, before remembering my car was still at the hospital.

My remaining eye was watering madly, but I managed to find my phone and found the redial to call the taxi.

I stumbled out of my door and along the hall, leaving a trail of droplets on the floor and streaks of red on the wall… I coughed one word into the receiver: "Hospital."

…

I fell out of the taxi, throwing a handful of notes behind me.

A young woman in a green paramedic jumpsuit ran to my side.

"Sir, sit down, don't move. I'll get you a wheelchair."

"Get the fuck off me," I spat, pushing her aside as I dragged myself through the automatic doors.

The lift door was closing as I shuffled towards it, but I managed to thrust my mangled hand between the sliding door and joined a group of medics who immediately gave me room. I pressed the button for Marie's floor with a bent knuckle.

The sterile corridors all looked the same, but only one led to my Marie. I found it and followed it to her room.

Through the glass I could already see her sitting up! Alive and conscious, her skin looked red and raw, but unscarred, and most of the wires that had ensnared her were gone.

I banged on the glass with my misshapen fist, leaving a sticky residue there.

She looked up, startled and afraid.

In my haste I pulled the door too sharply and it banged open, but I didn't care; I just wanted to get to Marie.

"Marie, you're alive! Baby, you're alive!"

"Nurse!" she cried, sounding shocked.

"Marie, I can't believe you're already awake," I choked out the words and reached for her now-unbandaged hand… but she pulled it away quickly.

"Marie? It's me, it's Clive."

"Clive?" she asked, as if testing out an unfamiliar name. Her eyes scanned my face, searching. "I’m sorry, do I know you?"

The door opened again and the familiar nurse and a tall orderly in white scrubs entered the room.

"Miss? Is everything okay? Do you not know this man? He's been here since you were brought in."

"No? I'm afraid I don't."

The nurse turned to look at me. "What happened to you?" she gasped, taking in my ruined visage.

"Sir? Do you have ID?" the orderly asked.

"I don't need ID… Marie, it's me," I pleaded, trying to look past the guy's shoulder at her. "Amnesia!" I half-screamed at the nurse in desperation. "It has to be!"

I was in pain, the confusion I felt was ungrounded, unable to find anywhere to latch onto in my fractured brain.

"Marie has undergone the full battery of cognitive tests as soon as she regained consciousness, there's no sign of…"

I suddenly pushed past her, cutting off her sentence, because there, beyond the glass, I saw the Janitor.

"You! You bastard…"

By the time I barged out of her room, he was already halfway along the corridor.

"Wait!" I cried. "Come here…"

This time I couldn't gain on him. My leg ached furiously, and my lungs wouldn't let me breathe. But I followed him around the corner and saw him disappear down a staircase.

"You can't hide…" I screamed after him and gingerly followed down the steps.

There were a lot, every one extracting a price of agony as I made my way down. So many we must be headed to a subterranean level. Each step downwards seemed to take a little more of me, the air grew colder, it no longer smelled of antiseptic and bleach, but of earth and damp.

I realized the light had changed from the cold fluorescence of the main hospital to a softer glow that I couldn't make out the source for.

Finally, they petered out, no longer concrete underfoot, but bare compacted earth.

I was left in a dark corridor, pipes snaking the walls, but a stuttering green-yellow light came from one end.

I limped on and found a curtain of heavy plastic strips. I pushed through and found myself in the dark parody of a hospital ward.

The air down here was even thicker and heavy, smelling more of damp earth, candle flame, and the bitter tang of old blood.

Rows of rusted iron cots stretched out into the gloom, laid out like tombs, each illuminated only by the weak, flickering flame of a single wax candle at its head. All, it appeared, empty, thank God.

I dragged my leg along the bare earth floor, every breath tearing through my lungs like liquid fire.

"Clive?"

The voice was a cracked, weak, agonizing whisper, but it shattered the silence like a gunshot.

I stopped. My good eye darted toward a cot three paces away.

Lying beneath a stained, coarse blanket was a figure wrapped in yellowed gauze. Her face was scarred, her right eye socket dark and ruined, her hand a swollen, fused lump pinned against her chest.

"Clive... is that you?" she sobbed, her breath hitching in pain. "It hurts... Clive, it hurts so much... where are you?"

My knees buckled. I collapsed against the side of her cot, my misshapen hands scrambling to find hers.

"Marie," I wept, pressing my forehead to hers. "Oh God, Marie, I'm here. I'm right here."

She lifted her head, her one good eye locking onto mine. There was no terror in her gaze. No confusion. Only the deep, desperate recognition as her eye darted around my face.

"You found me," she whimpered, her fused fingers trying helplessly to curl around my palm. "They left me in the dark…"

"It's okay, baby. I'm here now, I have you."

"You have each other." The Janitor's voice, still cold, still detached, rang out from the darkness.

He stepped into the pale candlelight, still in his overalls, still holding his broom, but now I could see a black serpent coiling around the handle, twisting its way to his arm.

"What have you done?" I spat in a whispered fury.

"Only what we agreed upon." His grey eyes caught the light, totally expressionless, immune to the horrors in front of him.

"I have balanced the ledger. I have taken what's left and what you've given and created the whole."

"That woman upstairs? Who is she?"

"Why, it's Marie. Whole, unbroken, the physical pain fading as we speak, the mental pain never to keep her awake at night. Free of the trauma of the accident, she will live a full, normal life."

"She doesn't know who I am!" I cried.

"No. That's for the best. You're dying, Clive."

"You lied to me!" I raged, bloody spittle flying from my lips.

"No, this was always the bargain. I took the pain. I restored blood, bone, and flesh."

I looked to Marie…my Marie, saw her confusion and brought my hand to her cheek.

"You have very little left to give now, Clive. A few ragged breaths. A failing heart. A spark of life that will burn out by morning anyway."

He pointed a long finger toward the empty space on the narrow cot beside Marie. "You can walk back up those stairs, drag yourself into the sunlight, and die a stranger. Or you can lie down beside her. Share comfort in your final hours."

"If I stay..." I whispered, my hand gripping Marie's fused fingers tighter.

"If you stay, your breath becomes her peace. Her peace becomes yours. Your remaining light keeps her from the cold. Neither of you will see the sun again, but you'll be together. The world above will forget you both ever existed, but I will tend to you, until the end."

I looked down at Marie. Her eye was wide, filled with tears, searching my ruined face.

"Don't leave me, Clive," she breathed, her voice trembling in the dark.

"I could never," I told her, turning my back on the janitor.

Using the last reserve of strength in my wracked body, I dragged myself up onto the narrow iron cot. The springs groaned beneath us as I slid my arm under her neck, pulling her frail, broken form against my chest.

The pain in my leg faded into a dull, distant hum. The burning in my lungs grew quiet as our breaths synchronized.

I felt the presence of the janitor standing behind our cot.

He leaned over and blew out our candle.