This is a mega-thread for Death Cab For Cutie's show at slc twilight in salt lake city, ut, on June 9, 2023.
Use this thread to:

• ​ facilitate meet-ups
• ​ arrange last-minute ticket sales
• ​ post photos and videos of the event
• ​ ask general questions about the show and venue
• ​ share your excitement with us!

This thread will be stickied for at least six hours after the show.
Have fun, stay safe, and enjoy!

I'd like to start by letting everyone know that the genre is Fantasy Epic, and that this is a long prologue at 6,414 words. This prologue serves a purpose as it takes care of a lot of my setting and plot setup. It also gives the reader a fair bit of worldbuilding without making it too much of an info dump (talking to you Robert Jordan ;P).
I've had several people beta read this for me and gotten a lot of positive feedback. The prolbem for me is that these were all people I know very well on a personal level. Several have made comparisons to Chronicles of Narnia or Lord of the Rings as far as how well the full book is written. The problem is, friends and family can often have a bias and make things seem better than they really are. So, now I want to do a test run in the real world and see what people who don't know me think. Is it as engaging and compelling as they have made me hope that it is?
I'm basically wanting to take a page from a couple authors I admire and follow the ABC rule for critiquing. Please let me know of any point where you thought it was Awesome, Boring or Confusing. I know prologues aren't everyone's favorite thing, but this has basically been written like a novella for the main story as it foreshadows a lot of things leading all the way into book four.
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PROLOGUE
ARCHIVE INFINITUM
October 14, 844 (Alt-Future)
"Welcome back to the Archive, Master Jonathan."
"Thank you, Charles. It's good to be back. Have you noticed anything interesting in the Physical Realm?"
"I have not, sir. Do you require any assistance today?"
"Thank you, but no. I'm only here to revisit a passage within the history of the Order. Shortly after, I'll depart for the reunion at the Tower."
"Excellent, sir. I'll leave you to it."
Jonathan emerged from the ether and walked through the Archive doors. Inhaling deeply, he breathed in the familiar scents of dusty cleanliness that can only truly be found in a place of learning. The lights reflected off the floor's white marble surface, casting a glow that evenly lit every corner of the large chamber. Even so, the room still felt cavernous to him, as if he were a galleon amidst the vastness of the ocean.
Jonathan appeared to be in his early to mid forties. Though, with the way he carried himself and the spring in his step, he seemed closer to his late twenties. His hair was shoulder length and dark gray. He wore bifocals though he hadn't needed them since his ascension, and dressed with a refined sense of style.
His gray eyes were by far his most interesting feature, though. They were the only hint of how old he truly was and the many adventures and travesties he'd witnessed. Regardless, how old he was didn't matter as age had long since lost its meaning for him. After all, being an immortal tended to give a man new priorities in life.
As he strolled across the room, a lift descended from the tower's heights. The square platform had waist high rails around its perimeter. It floated through the air showing no sign of a suspension system to raise or lower it. This was accomplished by a magical enchantment that allowed it to levitate and dart about the room at mind numbing speeds. As he stepped up onto the platform's dais, it landed on the floor in front of him. He took a position at its center, then, after folding his arms behind his back, mentally willed it to take him to floor eight hundred forty four.
It rose off the ground, gradually gaining speed until it was a hundred or so feet in the air. At that point, the platform took off like a rocket. The thought of what these speeds would do to him if this were outside the Realm of Intellect crossed his mind, making him chuckle nervously. He knew he had to be moving close to six hundred miles per hour.
Now, let me tell you a bit about Jonathan's pet project, The Archive Infinitum. The Archive is a magical structure he'd designed shortly after the cataclysm that nearly wiped out the human race. An event most of you now refer to as the Night of Burning Skies. That same event is also what gave us the powers we now refer to as magic.
Shortly after obtaining his ascension, he learned that science's multiverse theories were close to how reality really worked. There are an infinite number of parallel universes, or branching timelines, that coexist simultaneously. What was different is that each universe shared a common six realm structure. The Physical Realm, the Realm of Intellect, the Dominion of Shadows, the Plane of Enlightenment, the Land of the Forgotten, and the Ether.
He built the Archive within the Realm of Intellect so it wouldn't be bound by the laws of physics or time as we know them. Once the structure was anchored in place, he could set most of those parameters himself. What he didn't realize was that making it here would have an unintended, though not unwelcome, side effect. The structure's size, shape, and architectural style could change by anyone who entered it.
When someone enters the Archive, it ascertains their strength of mind and will. Suppose the individual's mental fortitude is deemed stronger than that of the other occupants. In that case, the appearance will adjust to one that best serves and appeals to that individual. This could become unsettling for the occupants already inside the first few times it happened. That being said, it has no effect on the contents atop the shelves or where you're located within the structure. For Jonathan, it shared an uncanny resemblance to the George Peabody Library, though on a much grander scale.
The lift stopped after a brief ride, and Jonathan stepped off. He resumed his stride, passing row after row of the cherry wood bookcases. There were hundreds of rows and thousands of tomes and scrolls in each. As a scholar, he'd spent most of his existence here. But, even so, he knew there would always be something more to be gleaned from their pages.
Today was a day of remembrance. Of celebration. Of mourning. It was the anniversary of the end of a war that had lasted ten thousand years. With the death of one individual, a light of hope was given to many. For others, it was a bittersweet victory that left a void in their hearts. He'd come here today to revisit a passage that would return him to that fateful day. Reliving the event which granted them this peace, and once again, paying his respects to a dear friend.
"Ah, yes, yes, yes. Here we go."
The plaque on the side of the bookcase read, Row DD, Column 15. Now that he'd found the right one, he began scanning the shelves. It wasn't long before his hand landed on the tome he sought.
"Here it is." He pulled it down from the shelf. "My word. Has it truly been fifteen hundred years since I glanced through these pages?"
Looking at the cover, he chuckled. The combined magic of the Archive and the Realm had created a thin layer of dust. Giving it the feeling of something ancient and lost to time. Raising it to his lips, he blew the dust away, causing the magic to dissipate as it fell to the floor. He pulled open the cover and rifled through the pages. The section he stopped at contained the account of Rexinon the Prophet's final words.
Summoning his divine magics, he channeled a spell into the tome. The words that once filled the passages began to fade away, leaving only the blank pages, which now bled a blueish gray smoke. The soft glow of the lights against the floor diminished as the smoke spread. As the darkness grew more substantial, luminescent spheres and arcs of brilliant blues and crimson could be seen dancing about its surface like lightning.
The ground trembled beneath his feet, and the smokey haze took on a more stormlike appearance. All around him, the air started to feel heavy, and the taste of dust and sea salt filled his mouth. A gentle rain began to fall, and the room's remaining lights winked out. If not for the increasing flashes of lightning, he would've been left in total darkness. But even this was not a comfort, as those flashes cast shadows against the storm's ever swirling walls. Many of which appeared to be dark things that should never be seen in the light.
The storm's intensity grew, bringing disorienting cracks of thunder and wind whipping around him. It assaulted his senses and seemed to have an almost vengeful purpose. That meant he had to constantly focus on the spell, bracing himself against the onslaught. If he failed, it would kill him without question.
Some of the shadows began to take on a physical form with details beyond what the walls could offer them. He watched as an hourglass tumbled end over end, circling him before it returned to the storm. A moment later, a blazing fireplace and mantle emerged but produced neither light nor heat. Finally, a door engraved with the crest of the Order appeared. These images were ones he'd expected to see for this particular passage, and so came as no surprise. However, when a fourth image appeared, he was caught off guard.
Although it was normal for three images to accompany this spell, an occasional fourth spoke of prophecy. He focused intently on this final image. It showed twelve people standing in a circle; one of them was coated in blood. Two others were bound by chains. One a man, the other a woman.
He looked closer at the man and realized it was Godric. His eyes opened wide as he tried to decipher the meaning behind the image. Only a few moments passed while he speculated, but it was a few moments too many. Disaster struck, and too late, he realized his mistake. He'd lost focus, and now the storm would surely take him.
Hurricane force winds and debris tore at his clothes, quickly turning them into rags. One powerful gust slammed into his side as if he'd been struck by a car, knocking him off his feet. The storm swelled with even greater ferocity. It threatened to consume him this time, and he wondered if it would finally cost him.
Rain and hail pelted his face and body, while dust and sand stung his eyes. As he wiped away the grit, a bolt of lightning struck before him, temporarily blinding him. He got to his hands and knees, gasping for breath as the storm continued to beat him relentlessly.
Steeling himself against the pain, he rose to his feet. As fast as he could manage, he began casting mental defenses and barriers to protect his mind from the horrific assault. He bellowed in defiance of the storm, "I will not let it end this way! I refuse!" One defense after another was laid upon his person, until finally, he succeeded. The winds died to a breeze as the rain became little more than a summer misting.
He heard the sound of a quill scratching against paper over the storm's remnants, and the air behind his back grew hot as a crackling fire joined the room's ambiance. The sickly sweet smell of incense filled his nostrils, reminding him of days spent in his master's study. Another fond memory.
The storm wall vanished as the tremors subsided, making the room visible through a misty haze. The light of the fireplace cast his shadow across the now rough cut gray stone floor. Half a dozen tapestries hung around the room, and a liquor cabinet stood at the room's far corner. The main entry door remained closed to his left, and the doorway to the study's balcony lay to his right. At the room's center sat Rexinon at his desk, writing furiously on a piece of parchment.
Wiping the sweat from his brow, he breathed a sigh of relief. Although he'd done this countless times, the journey into the pages of history was always filled with peril. But, blessedly, the most intense part of the spell was complete. And while he could now relax in that fact, that fourth image still concerned him.
He stood in the familiar square room, clothing restored to its original state. The evening's air flowed through the open windows, making the ambient temperature quite cozy. Crossing the room, he paused at the desk and listened as Rexinon started muttering. "What I wouldn't give for a typewriter, much less a computer. Would make this so much faster."
Jonathan couldn't help but crack a smile. "Oh, but how many times have I thought the same thing, old friend?" He remarked, though he knew Rexinon couldn't hear him.
He stepped up to the desk and leaned over it. Looking down at the paper Rexinon was writing on, he frowned. Like so many times before, it appeared as little more than black scribbles on a page. Those words had to be important, but there was no way to know.
This was one of the spell's critical weaknesses. The details within the vision were only as precise as what was written in the tome. Most of the books in the Archive were magically transcribed. The benefits of this were completed histories free of victor and writer biases. Although, it wasn't flawless.
Throughout history, there have been individuals or events that the spell couldn't see. The most well known examples of these blips in time were the United States presidency of Franklin D. Roosevelt from 1933 to 1945 and the United Kingdom's Prime Minister, Michael Durham, from 2063 to 2065. All that is known about them was their lives before office and the accounts written by those around them. These gaps in history were generally the result of one of two things. In these two cases, a place or individual with a strong connection to the Dominion of Shadows.
Sighing, he pushed off the desk and crossed the room to the liquor cabinet. He opened the glass doors, pulling several bottles and a glass from the shelves. He made a drink consisting of three parts Red Adders Bite and one part Dry Amorian Blood Wine, then added a lime wedge to the rim of the glass. The others wouldn't arrive for another half hour, leaving him time to kill.
He walked around the room with his drink in hand and studied the various tapestries, several of which he'd been a part of. Each one depicted an accomplishment or tragedy facilitated by the Order. All save one, which showed a scene from the event that started it all.
The one to the left of the cabinet showed the Order's founding. In the background stood a grand tower of black and white marble. Its four sides were engraved with the Mark of Hellyrr, which glowed with a magical light. In front of it stood a man facing a gathered crowd, his arms swept wide in triumph. They looked up at him and the structure with reverence and awe.
He continued to move in a counterclockwise manner around the room. Above the main entry door hung another tapestry. One he was even depicted in. It showed the aftermath of a massacre. Six figures stood amidst the bodies of hundreds. The earth around them was scorched by flame, and the blood of the fallen had stained it red. The cloud covered sky glowed a deep crimson with gold outlines from the fires below. It had come to be known as the Cleansing of Elysian, in which the entirety of the planet's second continent had been annihilated to preserve the world.
"I wish it had never come to this. Why can't we all just get along? Instead of thriving in the prosperity of our two lands, they plotted and began planning to bring war to our own people. To rape, pillage, and enslave them. Even with all my vast knowledge and wisdom, I can't understand why they felt the need to dominate and control the world." He looked back up at the tapestry. "Even now, most of the land is still uninhabitable."
He turned around and looked at the tapestry above the balcony door. This one would appear out of place with the others to all but a few handfuls of people. Even for those who learned the truth behind it, it looked like little more than an artist's vision of what a beautiful landscape at sunset should look like. The sky is dotted with hundreds of stars as shades of red, orange, and yellow dance across the land's horizon. The artist's point of view appears to be looking down from a hillside. Down the hill's slope, you can see a pond teaming with wildlife along its edge. The remaining landscape is filled with miles of forest stretching toward the horizon.
For the few who survived this event and still remained, they knew it depicted the final moments of their world before all of humanity was nearly lost.
Jonathan fixated on this tapestry more than he had on the others. The longer he stared, the more distant his expression grew. Over time, his breathing quickened, and his grip on the glass slipped. It shattered as it hit the floor, causing the rug to stain from the liquid. The sound jerked him out of the trance like state, making him feel ill.
He could still recall the memory of that long ago day like it were yesterday. The thought of how close humanity had come to extinction made his legs weak, and he stumbled back against the wall behind him. He slid down the stones' cool surface and noticed his hands were now trembling. Through shuddering breaths, he uttered the words of a broken man. "So much death. So many lives were lost that day. So many. Oh, Sonia. Even after all this time, I still miss you."
The main entry door slammed open, crashing against the wall with a loud bang. Jonathan jerked as one of them collided mere inches from where he sat. The startling sound had been enough to pull him from his stupor, but it still took a moment for him to gather himself. A man in the doorway lowered his foot from where he'd obviously kicked the unlocked door in.
"Knock, knock, Rex. Seems you've done it now."
"Seth. I'll never understand the animosity you held for Rexinon," Jonathan said wearily as he got to his feet.
Seth stood just shy of five foot eight inches and had slick black hair that he kept combed back. He wore black jeans and a beige dress shirt with mother of pearl buttons, which had seen far too much polish in recent days. A malevolent grin displayed his perfect teeth and careless eyes. He strode into the room, dragging a chair behind him, and placed it on the rug by the fireplace.
"Was kicking the door in really necessary, Seth?"
A second man stepped into the room, obviously annoyed by the unnecessary use of force. He wore a navy blue business suit and towered over everyone else in the room, and that was saying something considering Jonathan was six foot. As he still held to the standards of a marine, he kept his hair high and tight and his face clean shaven. He stood at the rug's edge out of respect for the Order so as not to mar the embroidered Mark of Hellyrr. A respect Seth clearly lacked.
"Godric Gibbs. This day changed you. Hell, it changed all of us, but few as much as you," Jonathan said. He looked back at the door as the third and final man entered. "Assassin."
This man was of a height with Jonathan and wore all black from head to toe. His outfit looked like something out of a TV show. Almost like a cross between Gi Joe's Snake Eyes, and CW Arrow's League of Assassins. After ten thousand years, all they knew about him was his previous occupation as a contract killer. It wasn't long before they'd taken to calling him Assassin, as they had no other name to go by. Any time he was asked a question regarding his past, he either remained silent or dodged it outright. He took a position to Godric's left and, like Godric, took care of where he stood on the rug.
The three men stood in silence and watched as Rexinon continued to write. Godric and Assassin seemed content to wait until he addressed them. On the other hand, Seth seemed to grow more agitated as the minutes passed. Jonathan chuckled in spite of himself.
About twenty minutes later, Rexinon spoke, "Reverend Seth Jones, Colonel Godric Gibbs, and Assassin. To what do I owe the pleasure?" His tone plainly indicated that he already knew.
Seth spoke first. "Oh, cut the crap, Rex. You already know why we're here. This cult thing of yours has gone on long enough."
"Well, there's the pot calling the kettle black," Jonathan muttered sarcastically.
Godric rolled his eyes. Everyone in the room knew about Seth's past as a cult leader. They also knew his anger was more at being forced to wait in silence than anything to do with Rexinon or the Order.
"Calm yourself, Seth. There's no need for such hostilities." Godric looked at Rexinon apologetically. "I'm sorry to have to do this, old friend, but my hands are tied. Rexinon the Prophet, Headmaster of the Hellyrrian Order, you've been charged with conspiracy to overthrow the governments of Aurelia and seize control for the Order.
"As we speak, the leaders of the Hellyrrian Order are being gathered for execution. Furthermore, your towers and all their artifacts will be destroyed, and any remnants of the Order's existence is to be wiped from the face of history. As of 0813 this morning, you have been sentenced to death. How do you plead?"
Rexinon continued to write at an incredible rate. He knew why they'd come. He'd known this was coming for months. After all, his gift was the gift of prophecy. The evidence for the charges against him was both substantial and ethereal, depending on what light was shown on it.
Two centuries ago, the Order had tracked the activities of an unknown number of individuals who'd been subtly manipulating several of the Aurelian governing bodies. They'd spread like a poison, corrupting them and turning once prosperous kingdoms which knew few hardships, into lands where the people had to fight just to survive. The problem was that whoever that force had been, always seemed to be just one step ahead of them. Now, not only was it check, but checkmate. The Order had lost.
"I believe the Righteous Twelve to be ill advised. I believe you've been manipulated by the same corrupted governing body which we've spent so long trying to purify—." Seth grunted. "—But," he said at length, "I accept all charges against me, save one. Neither myself nor anyone else of the Order has ever sought to rule Aurelia, as the charges would imply. The Cleansing of Elysian should've been proof enough to show that to be true."
Rexinon penned the final words of his letter and placed the pen back in its stand. Pulling the top off a jar, he dusted the page with a thin layer of sand to soak up any excess ink. After dumping the sand back into another jar to be cleaned, he pushed away from his desk and stood to look at his guests for the first time. After nudging his stool back under, he addressed Godric directly.
"Will you join me on the balcony one last time?"
Godric nodded his head and gestured towards the balcony doorway. As they stepped outside, Jonathan followed.
Rexinon leaned against the railing and looked out over the city, his gaze fixed on the setting sun. Godric joined him and looked down to the tower's base, some five hundred feet below. Although he was not afraid of heights, it gave him respect for the sturdily mounted railing at the balcony's edge.
"It's beautiful, isn't it?" Rexinon said. Godric looked at him, confused. "The way the world has turned out since that day? Ten thousand years of watching as civilization was rebuilt and destroyed time and time again by a senseless war. Watching them evolve into something more as they learned how to use these gifts we were given. In some ways, we're greater than we ever were. In other ways, we're inferior. If I have any regrets, it's that I couldn't do more to leave the people better prepared for this new age."
"Well spoken. If it's any consolation, I believe this is wrong. I even spoke out against the council for a different outcome. For my efforts, though, I was threatened with execution if I didn't cease my objections."
Rexinon's tone grew heated after hearing of the council's reaction. "You should know better than anyone why I fought so hard against them, then. I'm not against governance. I'm against corrupt governance. We had far too many corrupt politicians and warlords in our own time for me to ever want to allow it again."
Godric nodded his head. "Yes. The problem is you played too heavy a hand too quickly. Instead of accepting that they'd been beaten, they cheated by playing with an ace they had hidden up their collective sleeves."
Rexinon sighed, knowing his words were true. "Indeed. I've accepted my fate. I won't run. Won't even make it difficult for y'all. I have no need to. I would like to make one final request to ease your conscience, though."
Rexinon leaned toward Godric conspiratorially. As he did this, the world around them began to shimmer and distort. Almost like the motion blurring you'd see on a TV. Likewise, their conversation was masked by the sound of white noise and the sound of hushed incoherent whispers.
This was the second hurdle the scrying spells had to deal with. Individuals with divine magic could conceal their conversations or even the events they were a part of. Rexinon had concealed this conversation, and to this day, Godric has never spoken of what was said.
Jonathan returned to the study with a resigned sigh. There was nothing more he could learn from their conversation. Assassin stood in the same spot he'd been when he first entered the room and looked as if he hadn't so much as twitched. Seth, however, was rummaging through the desk's drawers. He'd tried to figure out what he was looking for in the past, but nothing seemed obvious.
The shards of glass from when he'd dropped his cup earlier had vanished, along with the stain on the rug from the liquor. As expected, the glass had returned to the cabinet, and the bottles had refilled to where they were before he'd arrived. This was yet another reminder that this was a magically induced vision of an event that had long since passed. It could be too easy to forget that this wasn't real and that if he spent too much time here, it would have consequences in the real world for him.
He knew they'd be out there a while. In previous visits, he'd occasionally spent this time combing through the room, similar to what Seth was doing. Having cataloged everything centuries ago, there was nothing left to do but wait. So, he walked around the desk and sat squarely within the Mark of Hellyrr embroidered on the rug. There, for the next hour or so, he would remain, arms folded, legs crossed, and eyes shut. Freeing his mind of all unnecessary thoughts and emotions. At least, that was the plan.
About forty minutes in, Seth started to grumble and complain, forcing Jonathan to give up on his meditation. "… I know he's one of the humblest among our kind, but lord, does he have to be so dull? I can't find anything interesting anywhere. Even his liquor cabinet is dull." Seth walked from behind the desk to the liquor cabinet, pulled a few bottles out at random, and read the labels aloud. "Red Adders Bite, Amorian Blood Wine. Christ, he's even got Athester's Sweet Malt. This crap might as well be water." He pulled another bottle down and said, "At least he's got the taste to have at least one bottle of Nordic Berserker."
"Some of us prefer the simpler things in life. You might find life more enjoyable when you aren't always looking for the rare and exotic," Assassin said with a disinterested, almost dismissive tone.
Seth clicked his tongue. "Hell, even this letter he was so focused on when we arrived makes no sense." Seth thrust the letter towards Assassin, who took it nonchalantly. "Look at this."
Jonathan studied Assassin intently, hoping for any sign that would reveal the letter's contents. It was no use, though; for all the emotion he showed, Jonathan would've thought it no more important than a grocery list. But, if that were the case, why obscure it from the eyes of the scrying spell? The frustration caused by such a simple sheet of paper was baffling.
Jonathan got to his feet as Rexinon and Godric returned. As Rexinon walked to stand at the center of the rug, Jonathan moved behind the desk. Godric walked toward Assassin and conversed with him for a few minutes. Once again, the sound of white noise shrouded what was said. This time, it was Godric who masked his words from the spell. When Assassin nodded, Godric moved beside him and faced Rexinon.
Rexinon looked at each tapestry and seemed to relive each as he did so. They all knew those accomplishments and tragedies would stand the test of time. Any efforts to change that would fall flat. The Order had played too significant a role in shaping this new world. Finally, he turned to Godric, kneeling as he met his regret filled eyes.
Assassin pulled an infamous rod from his side, dubbed the Executioner's Handle. Forged in the Dominion of Shadow by Assassin some three thousand years ago. It was one and a half feet long of shadow infused steel and bound with his own divine essence. Ominous black tendrils crawled along Assassin's hand like something alive and flowed into the handle. The shaft elongated, and an axe head formed at its end.
Though he had accepted his fate, seeing that axe form made Rexinon's heart stop momentarily. He looked at Godric questioningly. Godric knew what that look meant and nodded his head in assent. Agreeing to this had allowed them both to right several wrongs this night by asking one simple question. "Do you have any final words or requests?"
"I have two, if you'll grant them. The first, allow me to disband the Order formally as my final act as headmaster."
Seth started to protest, but Assassin lowered the axehead in his direction as a silent threat. Seth glared at Assassin with seething hatred. Godric nodded to Rexinon. "Proceed."
As the headmaster of the Hellyrrian Order, he had a mental connection with every member. Without hesitation, Rexinon's eyes began to glow with a brilliant purple hue. This would be Rexinon's final order, and Godric knew it would save thousands.
"My brothers and sisters, hear me now and heed my words. Abandon the Order and save yourselves. Flee to the hills and never look back to what we once were. With my dying breath, the Hellyrrian Order is no more. The governments of Aurelia have played a hand we can't stand against. Anyone who disregards this command will be hunted down and executed without mercy. To the leaders and guild masters of the Order, I charge you with dismantling everything relating to the Order and turning over every artifact and document you can to Godric the Just, Jonathan the Wise, or Assassin the Watcher. I also ask that you help calm those who feel outraged and betrayed by this night. Do not blame the Twelve, as they were little more than pawns in this corrupt game of politics. Farewell, my friends. My family. May the peace we have fought for be found in the coming days."
The glow faded, and he slumped forward onto his hands, his breathing labored. A few moments passed, and he managed to catch his breath but still looked towards the ground.
"The second request I have is that anyone who would heed that warning be spared. The ruling factions wanted me. As long as no one else causes trouble, we know they won't cause too much fuss over it."
His voice took on a much sharper edge as he looked back up. "You call us a cult, though you know we are nothing of the sort. On the contrary, our Order has stood for nearly five thousand years for the betterment of the entire world. How they treated you should tell you that what I said and what we were doing was justified."
"Shut your mouth, Rex!" Seth spat venomously.
Godric glared at Seth. His own anger with this situation was at the point of breaking free. "Be silent! I don't know what kind of grudge you have, but I, for one, don't give a damn what the council said. Rexinon doesn't deserve death for the crimes he's being accused of. Unfortunately, the ruling factions in almost every nation are corrupted and working towards being as corrupt as they were back in our day." Godric sighed. "Regrettably, my hands are tied, though. The law is the law, and I have been overruled on this matter. Regardless of what my conscience thinks, I will abide by the rules of the land."
Rexinon nodded, understanding Godric's situation perfectly. Godric had become the divine embodiment of law and justice at his ascension. While those two things work hand in hand, they are far from the same, and one must often walk a fine line to serve them both. In this case, the choices were clear. In the end, it didn't matter what he chose; he would inevitably betray one virtue or the other. Unfortunately, there was no good way for him to handle this, and Rexinon could see how this was affecting him.
"The majority of the Order will heed my warning. As for the leaders, if any are still alive, they will follow that command to the letter. They'll even aid you in handling any hotheads who resist," Rexinon said.
"The good news is that no one has yet been executed this evening. I'll personally see to it that those who abide by that order are given a chance to live long, productive lives within society. If all goes well, you will be the only casualty of this idiocy."
Rexinon gave the faintest sign of a smile with a halfhearted chuckle as he said, "Godric, one thing I'll not allow is any of the Order's work ending up in the hands of one of those tyrants. Therefore, I demand that Jonathan be given every document, scroll, and tome held within our strongholds for safekeeping." Rexinon felt exhausted. The spell to warn his Order took more out of him than anticipated.
"You're in no position to be making demands of us," Seth said. Godric finally snapped and struck him so hard that he slammed back into the wall beside the fireplace, cracking it. He got back to his feet a moment later, fixed his shirt, and looked down at the blood he'd wiped from his lip. Godric looked back at Rexinon.
"As you were saying."
"Assassin, I'd ask that you secure all our relics and artifacts, regardless of their magical significance. I don't need to tell you what all we have housed around Aurelia."
"No, you don't. The nukes of our time were nothing compared to some of those items," Assassin replied.
"We'll see to it that it's done. There are things within these walls that were never meant for untrained mortal hands," Godric added.
"Thank you."
"As for the texts, Jonathan will have a field day going through everything. There is far too much the council doesn't understand within these walls that we can't afford to lose."
"Godric was right, Rex. I still have everything. Much of which has been quite useful over the centuries,"
Godric turned his head away, no longer able to look Rexinon in the eye. "I no longer deserve the right to call you a friend, but is there anything else you would ask of me?"
Rexinon looked at Godric for a long time and couldn't help but smile. Not at his pain or suffering in following the orders given to him, but knowing that if anyone here had ever been a friend to him, Godric certainly was. With his final words, he left Godric with a warning.
"No, but I'll leave you with this. Be wary of those among you, for one will betray you all. My friend."
Godric nodded, accepting these as Rexinon's final words as a tear ran down his cheek. Rexinon lowered his head, and Assassin enveloped his axe's blade in a purple aura.
"Woah, Assassin, what's with the new color? Never seen that before," Seth asked.
Ignoring the question, Assassin swung the axe, severing Rexinon's head cleanly.
That night, the cries of the Order were heard in every city across Aurelia. All mourning the death of the Order's first, and last, headmaster.
Jonathan fought back tears of his own as he watched the axe's head vanish. Assassin secured the handle on his belt as he walked towards the desk. Godric looked as though he was going to be sick.
"Did you do as I asked?" Godric asked shakily.
"Of course. I may be a trained killer, but even I know this was bullshit, mate."
Seth walked over and picked up Rexinon's severed head by the hair. He held it up before him, a mischievous grin on his face. Then he whispered something into Rexinon's ear.
Assassin's eyes locked on Seth. As he let go of the head, he used one of his abilities, known as shadow step, to cross the distance to where Seth stood. Before Rexinon's head hit the ground, Assassin snatched it out of the air and punched Seth so hard that it sent him flying into the same section of the wall he'd hit earlier. He bounced off it, but the force of the impact sent several of the stones flying into the next room. Seth crumpled to the floor, where he lay unmoving for several seconds. After a while, his head snapped upright, and he began to laugh. He stood up as if nothing had happened and headed out the door. Godric, now seething with anger, watched as Assassin started to go after him. "Leave him. He's not worth your time."
Jonathan paced around the room, waiting for the spell to wear off. His heart ached, and his own anger toward Seth at that moment made him wish he could destroy the man. But that was Seth's way, and they'd all learned to let it go in time. The world began to blur and vanish, reverting to the Archive once again.
He closed the cover, placing the tome back on the shelf with a heavy sigh. His fingers lingered on the binding as he read the inscription, A Complete History of the Hellyrrian Order, Volume 666. Finally, Jonathan let his hand fall to the side as he walked away with his shoulders slumped.
As if speaking to an old friend, he lamented, "Damn you, Rex. Why couldn't you have just left well enough alone?"
As Jonathan walked away, he shed a tear at the loss of one of his closest friends.

Traveling to Bear Lake next week for the week. We will be staying in Garden City. Looking for suggestions on activities outside of usual water stuff.
Yes, we are renting a boat one day. Yes, we will spend some time on the beach. However we will have an 11 month old and a pregnant lady so some water activities are limited. The rest of the crowd includes older kids aged 8-13. Some of them will kayak as well.
Specific questions.. which beach is the best to hang out for the day? Are there any nearby 1-2 mile hikes? Any other nearby activities/sights that are fun for that age group? Not against learning opportunities/guided tours. Scenic drives. History. Whats your favorite local restaurant?

The Salt Lake Tribune referenced a letter read in some Sacrament Meetings saying that the Church leaders are warning about "Straight Party Voting". The Article is here: https://www.sltrib.com/religion/2023/06/06/straight-party-voting-threat/ Does anyone have more information or can someone point me to a copy of the letter? Thanks.

The Salt Lake Tribune referenced a letter read in some Sacrament Meetings saying that the Church leaders are warning about "Straight Party Voting". The Article is here: https://www.sltrib.com/religion/2023/06/06/straight-party-voting-threat/ Does anyone have more information or can someone point me to a copy of the letter? Thanks.

Hi all,
I’m planning a trip to Munich in August and wanted to get your opinions on this itinerary/ask some questions that I haven’t managed to figure out through googling.
​
Although Munich is only one of the three destinations on my trip, sharing the entire itinerary for context. I want to know - do you think I have enough balance on this itinerary?Like too many palaces, too many lakes etc?
​
Plans is as follows:
Day 1 Saturday: Land in Munich at 7am, force myself out to get over jet lag. Do maybe the Residence palace, maybe do a free walking tour in the AM, nap in the afternoon? Maybe clock tower, anything else in the old town - open to suggestions . Maybe go to a beer garden in the evening.
​
Day 2 Sunday: weather permitting trip to Zungspitze (switch with Monday or Tuesday if need be) + Eibsee
​
Day 3 Monday: museums are closed today so I was thinking going to a Therme. I assume this would take half a day. The other half maybe roam around the Isar or some neighbourhoods
​
Day 4 Tuesday: Art Museum day! It’s a public holiday (Aug 15) so I guess the museums close at 6:30 but hopefully that’s still time enough to fit things in. Haven’t figured out yet which museums to visit - probably the Pinotek Modern at the very least
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Day 5-7 Salzburg & surrounds (1 day for the city and 2 days for the country). Maybe Konigsee as one of the day trips/ice caves if my friend doesn't get too claustrophobic (already been to salt mines)
​
Day 8-10: Vienna - again museums - Albertina, Schonnbrunn, Belvedere, maybe Jewish history museum (haven’t mapped this out in detail yet)
​
Questions:
-Do you think I have a good balance of different types of things to do in my itinerary/would you recommend Residence if I am visiting Schonnbrunn (or vice versa)
-is there a direct train to GaPa any more? Google maps says yes but DB website says no. If not, would it be worth it to take Flixbus to Garmisch - if so I’d have to buy a different ticket up the mountain right?
-any thoughts on which therme to visit? Erding vs the one in Tegernsee or even a 3rd option
-any neighbourhoods you would recommend I roam around on Monday afternoon
-favourite museum in Munich? Might try to see if a BMW factory tour is still available
-any vegetarian food suggestions? From this sub I have gleaned that one must try pizza in Munich. I heard Tien was good so plan to try that in Vienna

PC

Discord Username: lemon#1627
Character Name and House: Torren
Age: 18
Appearance: The biting-cold sea winds and sharp hiss of sliding steel, that is all that Torren can remember from his earliest days, and by which has moulded him into the young man he is now. With golden hair that falls messily off his face and a thin, scant stubble, he is bereft of joy and wears a hard line for a mouth and sharp, cold eyes so very deep and brown. His frame is thin from hunger and lined with cuts, old and new, as bruises of all colours splotch his skin.
Gift: Agility
Skills: Daggers (M), Water Dancing, Footwork
Talent(s): Fishing, Climbing, Swimming
Starting Title(s): N/A
Starting Location: King's Landing
Dragon Name: N/A
Dragon Size: N/A
Family Tree:

• Torwyn [d. 195 AC]
• Lyra [b. 171 AC]
  • Gilliane [b. 187 AC]
  • Torren [b. 189 AC]

Alternate Characters: N/A

AC

Discord Username: lemon#1627
Character Name and House: Herrock Drumm
Age: 46
Appearance: If he is to be stained from the years of warfare, the Ironborn captain hides it all too well. He is tall and broad, with a well-muscled frame that never so much as misses a meal; the captain has his share, always. With a small beard, blonde and grey, that wraps around his lower face and an easy smug smile to fit between it, Herrock carries the easy charm of a nobleman despite his unwillingness to divulge such. With steely blue eyes, he casts them out to sea, able to switch between a cold glare and convincing mirth.
Gift: Admiral
Skills: Axes, Berserker, Sailing
Talent(s): Bartering, Orating, Fishing
Starting Title(s): Captain of the Saltbloods, scion of House Drumm
Starting Location: King's Landing
Family Tree:

• Ygon Drumm [b. 132 AC]
• Alynnys Botley [b. 133 AC]
  • Hilmar Drumm [b. 151 AC]
  • Skyte Drumm [b. 152 AC]
  • Quellon Drumm [b. 155 AC]
  • Rodrick Drumm [b. 157 AC]
  • Regnar Drumm [b. 157 AC]
• Esgred [b. 143 AC]
  • Herrock Drumm [b. 161 AC]
• Various Salt Wives
  • Various Children

Timeline

• 161 AC: Herrock Drumm is born, son of Lord Drumm and his salt wife; raised in the old and fortified castle on the barren rocks, Herrock is a learned man that takes to studies, swordsmanship and sails alike.
• 186 AC: The Red War begins and Herrock, in command of his own fleet known as the Saltbloods, enters the service of the Iron Throne and reaves and raids the coasts in brutal Ironborn fashion.
• 187 AC: With the war come to an end, the Saltbloods are richer albeit weaker for their efforts and return to the Iron Throne with their treasures in tow. Torwyn, a renowned warrior in their ranks, takes his leave and remains with his new bride on Hammerhorn.
• 189 AC: Torren, son of Torwyn and Gillaine, is born in a coastal fisherman's settlement on the isle of Hammerhorn. His earlier years are spent with the children of his generation, with the communal teachings of the Drowned God spouted and wooden swords between them to learn how to reave and raid and kill.
• 195 AC: The Saltbloods return to the Iron Islands after their efforts in the Narrow and Jade Sea, the intent to restrengthen their ranks with those that once served them. Torwyn refused and urged Herrock to move on from his village, for which Herrock had instead had Torwyn slain and stole Terron to take his place on his ship.
• 196 AC: Torren, stolen away, finds himself between the ports of the Westerosi cities, of the Free Cities, of the Basilisk Isles and more. For the murder of his father, Torren would wish death upon Herrock and yet found himself ever too exhausted to enact such things; put to work, knives slip easily into Torren's small hands and are put to work, so soon stained with blood.
• 200 AC: The weeks turned to months, to years, and while Torren would still wish death upon Herrock and his ilk, what else was there, he wondered? Could he return to his mother and sister now? The manses in the Free Cities became his home for a time, spending nights travelling these foreign lands.
• 206 AC: Torren had no chance to return to the Iron Islands now, overcome by a sweeping plague. He wished to go, to ferry out his mother and sister, and yet there was no opportunity to do so. Herrock would not grant him a ship nor the coin to purchase one, and no one was permitted to go.
• 207 AC: The sour taste of his father's death and the thought of his mother's and sister's lingered on his breath, bitter and angrier than ever. Herrock demands the Saltbloods return to King's Landing and search for employ in His Grace, and Torren could not seem to care less.

My name is Reed Elaine, an uncle in his 50s living in Paris, France's representative tourist city. Having spent my whole life smelling flour and making bread, I'm just an old man who now runs a pretty famous bakery in Paris.
But for me, baking time is a great time for me to be able to run a store for my family because I'm with my one and only precious son, who was my bakery employee, and now my precious family, who has become my lovely wife.
Many tourists come to Paris every year to visit the Eiffel Tower or tourist attractions, but many people come to Paris to eat the bread of confectionery makers, which can only be tasted in particularly in Paris.
And among these tourists, the bakery I run has held out in one place for more than 30 years and won all the competition from nearby bakeries, so I'm a man of considerable pride and confidence in bread.
Every year in France, we hold a bakery contest to sort out the most delicious and high-quality bread, and I've also won first place in a row with salt baguette, the pride of our bakery, for more than five years.
But the bakery I run wasn't famous for its good taste from the beginning.

Hello,
We are heading on our second trip to Japan in mid-October. We went to Tokyo, Kyoto, Hiroshima and Osaka in autumn last year and enjoyed it so much we immediately booked to go back.
This time around we want to start and end our trip in Tokyo, visiting Hokkaido and the Sendai area during our three week stay.
We would like to know whether it would be sensible to hire a car for the Hokkaido leg of our trip, rather than trying to travel from Hakodate to Lake Toya and Noribetsu, then onto Sapporo by train.
Here's what we have planned for that part of the trip...
Three Nights in Hakodate - explore the city, Morning Market, Mount Hakodate, venture to Onuma Park by train.
Pick up a hire car?
One Night in Lake Toya - volcano museum, Usuzan Ropeway.
One Night in Noribetsu - explore Hell Valley, Bear Park and Ainu Village via ropeway.
Return the hire car to New Chitose Airport on the way to Sapporo?
Three Nights in Sapporo - staying near Shin Sapporo station. Explore the city, day trip to Otaru.
If we did the whole trip by train we figured we'd have to skip doing a day trip from Sapporo to Biei and Furano, but if we hired a car we could take a trip out there from our Sapporo hotel (where there is parking available).
Is a day trip to Biei and Furano worth it in late October? Or would the day be better spent in Sapporo?
It would be great to hear from people who've done a similar trip as we're worried that infrequent trains and buses might make travelling by public transport difficult.
Thank you!

My 17 year old daughter just got diagnosed with Hodgkin Lymphoma stage three B and my VA medical kick her off when she turns 18 in two months we live by the 4 corners in Colorado and have to take her to Salt Lake every 3 weeks so we need help this is probably not the place to ask but I have to ask somewhere

200 custom players ranging from 93 overall to 81 overall. Filled the rest of the league woth alumni rosters. Tried to eliminate duplicates and anyone over 93. (Did make a few exceptions for Gretzky, Lemieux and a few other of my favorite legends)
The Great North Division
St Albert Hit Men
Ontario Ice Caps
Halifax Hawks
Manitoba Breakers
Burnaby Bulldogs
Saskatoon Blades
The Wild West Division
Butte Bison
Glendale Griffins
Salt Lake City Grizzlies
Reno Pharaoh's
San Francisco Oceanic
Colorado Rivermen
The Heartland Division
Detroit Vipers
Tallahassee Hammerheads
Atlanta Aliens
Louisville Stallions
Indianapolis Dragons
Cincinnati Firebirds
Texas Titans
The Mid Atlantic Division
Steel City Centurions
North Carolina Storm
Jacksonville Thunder
Charleston Batallion
Richmond Raiders
Brooklyn Brawlers

I'm running a Darklands campaign, and I'm doing quite a bit of world building (fleshing out the Drow port city of Delvingulf, etc). Lake Nirthran in Sekamina is a gigantic lake, with multiple port cities, docks, trade, etc. How do these ships navigate a lake with no sun and no stars? And the sailors on the ships only have 60' or 120' darkvision, so they can't even see much past the edge of the ships. Are the ships sailing around with huge spotlights on them? Are they casting permanent dancing lights, which are orbiting around the ships and flying out ahead of them to light the way? At a minimum, each port city has to have massive lighthouses, right?
Has this issue be addressed in the past? And how have any of you addressed it? Thanks.

I am currently working on an alternate-history project wherein the extinct Pleistocene Era lakes of the "Great Basin" still exist at their greatest extant as of the 1820s and beyond.
The entire Salt Lake City metropolitan area would be underwater if Lake Bonneville still existed, therefore. By, using this interactive map of Lake Bonneville developed by the University of Utah. I am trying to figure out what some good locations would be for settlements along the shoreline of Lake Bonneville.
I was thinking that I could put a small and vaguely San-Francisco-esque equivalent to Salt Lake City in place of Vernon, Utah. This hypothetical city could potentially use the now flooded "Rush Valley" as a sheltered harbor but I am not sure how supportive the geography would be. Can anyone who lives in or near Vernon deduce whether or not this would be a good location for a city with Lake Bonneville?
​

As always, thank you to u/SpacePaladin15 for the wonderful universe that is NoP
Thank you to u/cruisingNW for proof reading and helping me out of some hang ups, you're the man! Honestly LoM wouldn't have gone very far without him! If you haven't you should absolutely go read Foundations of Humanity! It's very good.
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Memory Transcription Subject: Christopher A. Dewey, Human Merchant Sailor, Venlil-Human Exchange Participant
Date [Standardized Human Time]: August 29th, 2136, Very Early Morning.
We got a message an hour ago from Videk, ordering us to report to Hangar-08 to start On-Stick training; and to bring our bags! I guess the guy had wanted to get as much out of the day as he could. That or he wanted to get this over with as soon as possible.
Videk met us at the doors to the hangar, a small travel bag sitting on the floor by his side, tail swaying slowly as he watched us approach. “Good Waking, Taisa. Good Waking… Christopher.” An improvement, I’ll have to ask Taisa about that talk they had.
“This,” He continued, motioning to the shuttle parked in the hangar behind him with his tail. “Is your training shuttle: registration C1-0V3R-HR-EX.Your first On-Stick training assignment will be to follow appropriate lift off and departure procedures, plot and follow a course to The Capitol on Venlil Prime, seek permission to land from the proper authorities, and land safely and legally following those permissions. All of this, while following proper procedure and regulations. All of this will be graded.”
As he speaks the door behind him slides open, revealing a broad hangar bay, heavy clamshell doors dominate the far wall. At the center of the bay sits a stout craft painted white and black, a pair of stubby wings jutting from its sides flowing into a pair of engines flanking a singular tail. Venlil script is painted at the root of the tail and on the top of the rear ramp.
“Upon arrival in the Capitol you will have some paperwork to do at the U.N. offices with regards to your habitation. I will need to pick up some equipment from the training facility at the landing fields. After our respective errands, let’s say half a claw, we will meet up back at the shuttle and from there you will be plotting an in-atmosphere route to Shadetree, Sunward of the Capitol, to drop me off and wait for me to install and calibrate the remote instructing equipment. Once that is completed, you will plot another in-atmosphere course to Heartwood River, concluding this paws evaluations. Do you have any questions?”
I shook my head, and Taisa flicked her ears, in what I believed was a negative. “Very good, load your stuff and we’ll begin immediately.”
After a few minutes of finding places to tie off our belongings and get everything situated, I sat in the pilot’s seat and ran through the pre-flight check with Taisa. We caught a pair of faults in the starboard fuel delivery units. Videk seemed pleased we had caught them, and that he hadn’t had to tell us they were there. I could feel a slight smile tug at the corner of my mouth.
Devious little bastard makes for a damn good instructor.
Once the preflight was complete I closed the rear ramp and hailed the flight control tower. “Tower this is shuttle C1-0V3R-HR-EX requesting clearance for departure, place us enroute to Venlil Prime with planned landing zone of Capitol Shuttle Field 13-Bravo.” A Human voice came back over the line, a bit of mirth in their voice. “Shuttle, Tower, you are clear for departure, opening bay doors now. Good luck and Godspeed.”
The doors to the station hangar yawned open, filling the viewport with the void and all its stars beyond as I slowly brought the shuttle off the hangar floor, easing it out through the opening. I reached over to the nearest display and opened the Nav-computer interface, plotting our course to VP, and then on to the Capitol landing fields. Once I was confident I had the proper navigation commands and sequences set I called over Videk to have him review my work.
He gave me a quick flick of his tail before saying “Looks good, Christopher. Feel free to spool and jump when you’re ready.”
Videk’s approval given, I reached over and pushed forward on the throttles, engaging the drive and hurtling the shuttle into subspace.
It. Was. Beautiful. Everything seemed to stretch, stars in the distance turning from pinpricks of light into brilliant colorful streaks, lengthening as we bounded through the void. Lines of light far off in my periphery zip past like tracers as the ones before me feel as if they’re pulling me in with their kaleidoscope of color. The hum of the shuttle fell into the background while I became entranced by the light show in front me, picturing myself on the set of one of those old sci-fi shows I would watch with Pa on the weekends. The Future my ancestors had imagined was Here, right before my eyes and at the tips of my fingers! This view was… Hypnotic. The simulator couldn’t hope to do it justice.
Two hours. That was it.
Two hours to travel what, until very recently, would have been considered an insurmountable distance for Humanity. Dropping from Sub-space into the proximity of Venlil Prime was another astoundingly brilliant view. Scorched white deserts flowing into massive swathes of golden sands cut by the occasional streak of blue before blending into a beautiful verdant mix of turquoise and green fields, with vast lakes and rivers dotting the forests, flowing into wide marshy wetlands. Before finally, the curve of the planet fell away from its star, allowing the fading sunlight to showcase glittering city lights dotting the countryside.
The thrusters burn to life, crackling and thrumming with power as they drive us forward through the void to the beautiful marble before us. I flip two switches on the overhead, tapping the leftmost display to call up the local channel list and place a hail to the Capitol’s landing fields to request clearance and pad assignment. A quick ping, signifying my hail had been acknowledged, chimed over the console speaker.
“Capitol Shuttle Field 13-Bravo this is Shuttle C1-0V3R-HR-EX requesting clearance for landing at an available pad of convenience.” “C1-0V3R-HR-EX, you are cleared for landing, 13-Bravo, direct to pad Charlie-5.”
The Flight through the Void may have had some feeling of familiarity and nostalgia to the old Sci-fi shows at home; but in-atmo had the far better view! Rolling turquoise fields and towering thick trees, with their canopies tilted greedily towards that unmoving sun, falling away to a gargantuan metropolitan area, its architecture entirely alien yet still somehow familiar. Massive skyscrapers soar to touch the sky, reflecting light in brilliant angles and colors, the space below them populated by squat sturdy buildings and deep black roads. The Venlil going about their lives below look like ants as I ease off the throttle, taking the speed down to prepare for the final approach. The display on the viewport flags my landing area with a small pip guiding me in, slow and easy.
The cabin jostles slightly as the ship settles onto its landing gear. Videk seemed impressed; his ears up as he tapped away at his data pad! Taisa’s tail sways happily back and forth as she runs through the diagnostics of the landing, checking system status reports.
“Looks like we’re all clear. Videk do you have a time we should try and be back by?” Taisa beeps, showing the flight instructor the console in front of her.
“I just need to pick up the equipment and get it linked up, that should only take about a half a claw. Walking to and from the landing field and the U.N. Offices should put you at about the right time.” Videk turned away and made for the ramp; Taisa’s talk helped, and he was clearly trying, but he was still a bundle of nerves around me. His fur was so puffed out it looked like he was holding more static than a thunderhead.
As we stepped out of the artificial gravity of the shuttle I felt like I was carrying the weight of the world on my shoulders. My first step faltered making me stumble down the ramp and bounce off the… soft pavement? “Oh, forgot about that.” Videk winced sympathetically, “Our gravity is about twenty percent more than earth’s, so be careful. Falls are likely to hurt a little bit more here.”
“Would’ve been nice to know first, Videk.” I groaned, rolling myself over and sitting up, luckily the visor hadn’t fallen off; I would need to add one of those new back braces and some knee compressors to that order of stuff from home. “Do you know where the U.N. Offices are? Or should we just ask around to find our way there?”
“I do not, but you should be able to get directions on your pad. I trust the two of you can figure it out, so I’m going to go get the equipment I need. I will wait for the two of you with the shuttle once I am ready.” With a parting flap of his ears, Videk turned and walked away; flicking the tip of his tail back and forth as he did.
“Alright then,” I grumbled, forcing myself up off the pavement, swaying as I found my new equilibrium. “let’s get going. Can you pull up those directions?” She nodded slightly, flicking her ears forward. “Got them up already! You alright there?”
“I’m fine.” I grunted, rolling out my shoulder a little. “Feels like I weigh a quarter ton, but I’ll get over it with time. Lead the way.”
After a few minutes of walking we were off the landing fields and into the streets of the city. My boots sinking into the pavement a little with each step, just like on the landing field. “Taisa, what is this stuff? I figured it was just to make landings a little softer on shuttles but it’s everywhere! Looks like pavement but it gives like rubber; why are your roads like this?” “Anti-stampede concrete.” She stated, matter of factly, like that meant literally anything to me. My silence must have tipped her off that I wasn’t getting it as she focused one eye on my visor. “Oh… I guess Humans wouldn’t need that. It’s to help reduce stampede fatalities, it’s the same reason the roads and buildings have gentle curves, no sharp angles.” Looking around at the way the groups of Venlil flowed through the streets I realized she was right, what I had thought was a futuristic aesthetic design was just to keep people from killing each other against walls or trampling them into the ground when they got scared. How strange… and slightly worrying.
“Weird, that sounds like some crazy wonder material. Bet we’d have a bunch of uses for it back on earth.” My eyes watched the tips of skyscrapers towering above us, “How far out does it say we are?”
“Only a little further, about one and a half kilometers.” She responded, a slight pant in her voice. I wasn’t in the best shape, cardio wise, but I couldn’t imagine getting winded after 10 minutes of walking; guess all that talk about the Venlil having less stamina than us was right.
The U.N. Office complex was a series of giant flowing buildings built on a large park area. It wasn’t any design I had ever seen so I figured it had to have been an existing complex that just got turned over to the U.N. for their uses.
Passing through the heavy glass front doors we found a wide receptionist's desk, with several Humans sitting behind it, answering questions and directing people where they needed to go. One of the receptionists, a short dark haired woman with a visor obscuring her face, beckons us over. “Hello! How can I help you today?” “H-Hi!” Taisa beeps excitedly, her tail swaying behind her confidently as she takes a deep breath and straightens her back. “We’re part of the ‘integration’ experiments, we were told we need to fill out some forms for habitation. Where do we go to do that?” “Oh! Congratulations! That would be Suite 216-B” The receptionist answered, excitement in her voice as she pointed to a room on the map infront of her.
“Thank you!” Taisa responded, turning to head up the stairs behind the receptionist's desk. Halfway up the stairs she swiveled her ears over to me before saying. “Sorry, I figure if I’m probably going to have to work with Humans other than you for this I should try and at least work on being able to talk to them.” “It’s alright,” I chuckle, patting her shoulder. “That’s a great idea and you’re doing alright!” Walking down the hallways we saw prints of landscapes from Earth, Machu Picchu, the Uyuni Salt Flats, The Grand Canyon, YellowStone, Hạ Long Bay, The Zhangye Mountains and Plitvice Lakes. I pointed out the places I had been to as we walked past them, finally stopping at suite 216-B.
The door was open so we knocked, getting a quick ‘enter’, before stepping in. A man sits behind a desk, the top covered in organized files and folders, a placard on his desk declares his name as ‘Obediah Kamara’ with a small Liberian flag stamped beside it.
His visor obscures his face as he looks between the two of us before beginning. “I presume you are…” He sorts through a couple of the files and folders before stopping on one and opening it, pulling out a document packet. “Christopher Dewey and Taisa. Correct?”
We both respond in the affirmative as he gestures for us to take the seats across from him, sliding the documents across the table as Taisa’s pad pings on her belt. “These are agreements to ensure that you,” He starts, looking at me. “Understand the rules in regards to your habitation here on Venlil Prime. I understand that part of your integration will be taking you off world to and from Earth, these rules primarily apply to your time here. We ask that you remain considerate of the provided rules and guidelines on the ship if you are carrying Venlil passengers. Taisa, those are the terms, conditions, compensations and requirements for your family to house a human when the two of you are present. Virtual signature of that document is required within the next 3 of your ‘paws’.” Taisa stiffened a little bit, likely thinking about her Mother’s response to my arrival; that was something we were probably going to have to have a talk about later. I had an idea for the short term, at least. I ran through the paperwork real quick and it was all pretty simple: don’t be without the visor or some kind of face covering in settings where you couldn’t guarantee that an unprepared Venlil wouldn’t see you, avoid aggression, speak quietly, no eating meat, animal products or byproducts, no hunting local wildlife; bit odd considering I didn’t even have a bow or a gun but rules are rules, I suppose.
“Sounds good to me,” I said, signing the indicated portions of the document. “When are my items supposed to get here?”
“We don’t expect your requested items to arrive for another week or so, for now you’ll have to make do with what you brought with you.” Obediah responded, shuffling the packet of papers back into the folder they had come from. “With that complete you are free to go. I understand you have training to complete, so I wish you good luck with your endeavor. If you have any questions or needs with regards to your habitation you can contact Sam, their details will be forwarded to your communication devices.”
I caught Taisa’s tail twitching as her ears swiveled nervously out of the corner of my eye; even with her attempts to push through it I think the amount of Humans around was starting to get to her. Still, she was doing better than I think a lot of Venlil would be able to manage. I reached over, gently tapping my hand against her paw, trying to ground her a little before motioning to go, she nodded slightly as she flicked her ears.
“Thank you, Obediah, we’ll be sure to get into touch with them once we get their contact. Have a good day!”
Taisa and I stood, exiting the room and making our way out of the building, stopping to look at another picture or two along the way. Something needed to be done about possibly not having a place to stay to put my, and more so Taisa’s, mind at ease. I figured I could sleep in the shuttle, if I had to. It wouldn’t be particularly comfortable but I could certainly do it; I’d need a mat, maybe a sleeping bag or some blankets and a pillow.
I had no clue where I was going to get my hands on those, or at least a set of them big enough for me to actually use.
Then I saw the temporary units in the field near the offices. Men and Women in U.N. fatigues were milling about the area. Barracks? That could solve the problem, if they’re willing to help out a man in need, of course.
“Hey, Taisa, I need to make a stop real quick.” I state, walking briskly towards the largest of the buildings. “What’s up?” She asks, ears focused on me as she tilts her head a little.
“Well, I was thinking, I don’t think your parents, your Mom especially, won’t, uh… won’t want me around. At least not for a little while until she gets to know me better.”
“I think you can get past it, she’s not that bad… It’ll just be tough.”
“Oh I’m sure I can get past it, but I’d rather not just sleep in the grass in the meantime.” “I don’t think she’d make you sleep in the grass…” “I like being prepared, if she doesn’t want me in her house I’m not going to push the issue.”
“I just… I hope it doesn’t come to that, I’m not going to let her toss you outside like an animal.” She sighs quietly as we push through the front door of the barrack building.
A desk manned by a napping U.N. Marine with Private ranks stuck to his shoulders filled the space beyond the doors. He stirs as the doors clank shut behind us before scrambling to throw on his Visor as he notices Taisa.
“Hello, Uh… Can I help you? This area is for active U.N. personnel only.” He starts, his voice finding its authority only about halfway through the statement.
I stand straight, trying to muster the stern demeanor I’d found in my father and his friends so often when they tried to get something on base after their retirements. “Easy, Private. It has come to my attention that my accommodations lack proper bedding.” “O-Oh, uh, I apologize…” He stammers out, searching for something to say, likely looking to find a way out of trouble for sleeping on duty.
“Sir.” I state. “What’s your name, Private?”
“A-Alvarez, Sir.”
“Alvarez. I’ll remember that, Alvarez, how about we make this quick, you get me a wrap of blankets, 3 pillows and a bedroll and I don’t find your commander to report your… lack of enthusiasm.”
The private snaps to attention before firmly stating. “Yes Sir! I’ll be right back, Sir!”
As the private turns and walks away crisply I hear Taisa whistle with laughter a little beside me. “I’m surprised that worked.”
“You’d be surprised what a hard voice, straight back and the right slacking Private can get you if you just don’t go pushin' it too far in your story.” I whispered with a wink.
After a few minutes of waiting Private Alvarez returned with a duffle bag, stuffed full with blankets and pillows, as well as an inflatable bedroll under the other arm. “Here you go, Sir. Will this be ok?” He asked, passing the items over to me.
“Perfect, thank you Private.” I took the bundle of bedding and turned to the door, before turning my head back over my shoulder, “Oh, and Private? Do try and get proper rest before duty.”
A shaking “Y-Yes, Sir.” followed Taisa and I out of the door.
The first half of the walk back to the landing field was quiet, I was scanning the skyline again, I just couldn’t get over the fact that I was on another planet. Taisa however had her ears pinned back, her paws lightly holding her tail tuft as we walked.
“What’s got ya down?” I asked, watching the herd of Venlil glide around us as we came, trying their best not to get too close to me.
“I’m… concerned.” She sighed, the tip of her tail twitching between her paws.
“About?”
“My mother, what she’ll say… What she’ll do.”
“I can’t exactly say I know what her reaction’ll be… But, whatever it is we’ll just have to deal with it. It’ll probably take time, but we’ll get by.” I soothed. She let go of her tail, placing the tip of it on my back, but her ears didn’t let up at all.
The rest of the walk to the shuttle was quiet as she fidgeted with her paws, trying to take her mind off of the subject. Videk was there waiting for us, a few crates secured to the cargo area of the shuttle that weren’t present before.
“You two ready?” He asked, flicking his tail at us.
“I think so.” I responded, stowing the bedding in an empty compartment as Taisa flicked her ears.
We ran through our preflight checklist again, finding another pre-placed failure from Videk waiting for us, this time in the starboard control surfaces. Once the check was done we radioed the tower for clearance to take off and set an in-atmo course for Shadetree to drop off Videk. It was a short hop, about a half hour of flying or so before I had to call ahead for clearance to land again.
Most of the flight from the Capitol to Shadetree had been rolling turquoise and green hills or open fields of produce growing in the everpresent light. A sudden dense forest rose from the fields, thick dark brown trees with fluttering golden leaves stretched as far as the eye could see in every direction. A sudden break in the forest revealed a clearing for the Landing field, much smaller than the one at the Capitol. The city was built under the canopy of the trees, giving it a constant filtered light casting down through the shifting leaves. It was certainly a beautiful town, I’d have to come back to visit some day. Maybe once Videk had warmed up to me a little bit more.
As the ramp fell ,a small cargo truck arrived alongside the shuttle to collect Videk and his equipment. I offered to help but the Venlil driver just about ran when I started talking so I figured it was probably best to just keep out of it. Once the cargo truck departed, Taisa came back up to the cockpit, plopping down in her seat, and looked through the viewscreen at the trees beyond. The soft hiss of the ramp closing marked the finality of Videk’s departure.
“So, how are you feeling about Venlil Prime so far?” She asked, one eye on my face as I finally slipped the visor off.
“I like it! Between the beautiful scenery, interesting architecture and hanging out with you and Shamrock, here I’m having a great time!” I responded, rubbing my hand on what amounted to the shuttle's dashboard.
“... Shamrock?” She asked, her tail swaying in what I figured for amusement.
“Yea! Remember how I told you Humans like looking for patterns? Well it works on words and numbers as well. The tail number for the shuttle could be taken to spell ‘Clover-HR-EX’, or just clover for short. Clovers are a type of plant on earth that a few cultures believed to be lucky, one way or another. One of the nicknames for them was a Shamrock!”
She laughed at me.
“You are such a dork.” She said, wiping a tear from her eye as her tail whipped back and forth. “It’s a good name, usually shuttles don’t get one. I think it fits.”
I chuckled, a thought crossing my mind. “Think we could get any shuttle-grade paint? Preferably green, yellow and black?” She raised an eyebrow at me as her ears cocked at different elevations. “Oh? Someone feeling a little artistic?”
“Well, I could always paint a Shamro-” I was interrupted as the ping signifying we were being hailed sounded off. “We’ll finish this later.” I said, pointing at her as I accepted the hail.
Videk’s voice bled through the speakers. “Ok, looks like the connection is secure. Let’s go ahead and run through getting you familiar with the software, it should be quick and easy.”
It was not.
It took two hours. After a lot of trial and error, stop and go flights to test the connection and a few near misses with an especially tall tree we had gotten the system setup such that Videk was confident it would work in an emergency if he needed to step in. With that all squared away Taisa and I settled in to get on our way to Heartwood River. Sleeping on the blow up mattress or on a real bed hardly mattered at this point, I just wanted to sleep.
The overall flight time was set to be about an hour and a half, not too bad and man was the view beautiful: rolling fields, roaring rivers, pristine skies and alien forests abounded across the countryside. We had just passed over Hidden Plains when Taisa and I were just settling back into talking about her parents and our best route to try and handle them, when the hail system chimed and immediately spat out a harsh tone without acknowledgement, the same one the simulator used for distress calls.
“Mayday Mayday Mayday. Report of shots fired at residence housing humans. Need immediate medical evac at The Berrypatch Farm in The Grove, 11 minutes Night-ward from Hidden Plains. Hailing all airborn craft, we need a medical evac immediately!”
I immediately returned the hail. “This is cargo shuttle C1-0V3R-HR-EX. Responding to Mayday from the Grove. We are en-route to render aid. Hold tight, we’ll be there.”
Out of the corner of my eye I saw Taisa tighten her flight harness as I reached for the throttle.
---
First Prev. Next

Hi All- Looking for some advice on

1. what town to stay in the Sawtooths for our upcoming trip to Idaho in Late June/early July.
   
2. What is the most beautiful area(s) of the Sawtooths for summer travel -- Trying to narrow our stay/activities as we have limited time in each area sadly but will make the most of it.
   

Below is our itinerary, I know its a bit jam packed but we have long daylight hours to our advantage and we are early risers. Just want to experience the beautiful nature of Idaho :)
We have about 3 nights/4 days in the Sawtooths (coming from Coeur D'Alene and going to Boise after, with 1 night flex). Right now staying 2 nights in Stanley since there are a lot of hikes that start from redfish lake area. I'm torn on:

• stay 1 night in Salmon on our way to Stanley - rafting day/horseback riding
• or go straight to Stanley and stay 1 night in Ketchum/Sun Valley area before heading to Boise
• Or all 3 days in Stanley and either skip or just drive to Ketchum area during the day to see more of the scenic sawtooth byway

Things we want to see/do: Scenic views of mountains/lakes, hiking (We are experienced hikers and planned to do at least 1 all day long hike in this area), hot springs, exploring small quaint towns, etc. We were thinking one of these days to do either Horseback riding or a river rafting/kayak excursion.
Full Itinerary for reference:

• Fly into Spokane > Coeur D'Alene - 4 days (we have a commitment here that brought us to Idaho in the first place).
• Sawtooths - 3 nights (right now staying 2 in Stanley)
• Boise - 2 nights - explore the city. Making stops along southern Idaho like City of Rocks/ twin falls/craters of the moon on our way to JAC
• Jackson Hole/Tetons 4 days - fly out of JAC

Any and all advise is appreciated!

Hi All- Looking for some advice on

1. what town to stay in the Sawtooths for our upcoming trip to Idaho in Late June/early July.
   
2. What is the most beautiful area(s) of the Sawtooths for summer travel -- Trying to narrow our stay/activities as we have limited time in each area sadly but will make the most of it.
   

Below is our itinerary, I know its a bit jam packed but we have long daylight hours to our advantage and we are early risers. Just want to experience the beautiful nature of Idaho :)
We have about 3 nights/4 days in the Sawtooths (coming from Coeur D'Alene and going to Boise after, with 1 night flex). Right now staying 2 nights in Stanley since there are a lot of hikes that start from redfish lake area. I'm torn on:

• stay 1 night in Salmon on our way to Stanley - rafting day/horseback riding
• or go straight to Stanley and stay 1 night in Ketchum/Sun Valley area before heading to Boise
• Or all 3 days in Stanley and just drive to Ketchum area during the day to see more of the scenic sawtooth byway

Things we want to see/do: Scenic views of mountains/lakes, hiking (We are experienced hikers and planned to do at least 1 all day long hike in this area), hot springs, exploring small quaint towns, etc. We were thinking one of these days to do either Horseback riding or a river rafting/kayak excursion.
Full Itinerary for reference:

• Coeur D'Alene - 4 days (we have a commitment here, and was the reason we are going to Idaho)
• Sawtooths - 3 nights (right now staying 2 in Stanley)
• Boise - 2 nights - explore the city. Making stops along southern Idaho/ craters of the moon on our way to JAC
• Jackson Hole/Tetons 4 days - fly out of JAC

Any and all advise is appreciated!

So when you think of cities with high culture and vibrant music scenes on the east coast, what springs to mind? Obviously New York. Thanks to Drake, we all know about the growing music scene in Toronto. You prahbahbly musta tawt a Bawstan tew. Maybe Montreal or Philadelphia or even Baltimore crossed your mind.
Hah. Baltimore.
Time to check your cultural bias, pal. You passed over a quiet little city on the south shore of Lake Ontario, nestled in the Genesee River valley. It has a history as a hotbed of Abolitionism and Women’s Rights. It is the home of Eastman Kodak, Xerox, Bausch & Lomb, Western Union, Ragu and other innovative companies. It has a lively music scene, great nightclubs, world-renowned universities, thriving museums, arts & culture festivals, and live theatre. It is a true cultural gem that many folks overlook.
Yep. You bet your ass I am talking about Rochester, New York.
Since we know that Stoner Rock can come from anywhere, it should be no surprise that Rochester has produced one of the leading bands in this genre. This week we are going to check out a band you are going to want to listen to. If you know them, you love them. If you haven’t heard of them, you are going to thank me.
This week’s band is KING BUFFALO.
About Them
Hold on a sec. King Buffalo? Not King Rochester?
To be fair, King Rochester sounds like the villain in a Disney movie. Kinda hard to imagine that on a T-Shirt. King New York sounds like a particularly obnoxious Yankees fan (and yeah, finding a Yankees fan that isn’t obnoxious is a tough go). King Albany sounds like a car made by Kia.
But King Buffalo? That just works.
Our heroes didn’t start out together. King Buffalo were made up of members of two other Rochester area bands.
Randall Coon and Scott Donaldson were playing together in Velvet Elvis. That five piece band played heavy rock with space-based themes in the early 2010’s. Sean McVay and Dan Reynolds were in another band called Abandoned Buildings Club (side note: kinda neat that their initials were ABC), who had a pure psychedelic rock vibe. When both VE and ABC appeared to be having limited success, the four musicians decided to merge their talents into one band. Coon had handled vocals and guitar in Velvet Elvis and Donaldson had been rock solid on drums. McVay had done vocals and guitar in Abandoned Buildings Club and Reynolds had anchored the sound with his bass. All the pieces were there for a classic Beatles-esque lineup.
So out of the wreckage of ABC and VE, KB arose. The four members gelled so well that they were able to record their first demo - aptly titled Demo - in just two days. Their sound was immediately compared to tourmates and close friends All Them Witches. But where ATW were bluesy and sludgy, King Buffalo had produced songs full of space. Oh, there were heavy riffs for sure - but there were passages of music that were contrastingly lighter and further apart. The best example of these contrasts can be found in the more than 11 minutes of Providence Eye. The first six and a half minutes come at you at a lulling pace, enveloping you in the moment. You get swept up in the rolling riffs. But then the drop happens and you suddenly realize the song has been building to this peak. The tempo picks up and you ride a relentless rollercoaster until you hit the Black Sabbath-inspired outro, which takes you home. It is an emotional experience. The two other tracks - In Dim Light and Pocket Full of Knife are smaller essays on the same theme.
It was clear right from Demo that King Buffalo had some serious talent. But if you have listened to the band you will notice that one thing is starkly different on Demo than from any of their other releases: the vocals. Randall Coon was the lead vocalist on these recordings. If you play them up against anything since by the band they stand out. Our very own QotSA may have successfully had multiple vocalists on multiple tunes, but King Buffalo was destined to have Sean McVay take over the mic. Shortly after 2013’s Demo, Coon left the band to do a solo project called Skunk Hawk.
King Buffalo stood at a crossroads: did they look to replace Coon, or should they carry on as a Power Trio? The choice for them was obvious. McVay, Reynolds and Donaldson knew that they had fantastic potential together. They decided they didn't need anyone else.
Side note: Regular readers of these write ups know that All Them Witches just went through this exact crisis in 2019. What I didn’t share then is that ATW are close friends with KB. I would not be surprised to learn that ATW had some serious conversations about their lineup with the boys from KB before they, too, decided last year to pare down to just three members.
To re-christen their new lineup, in 2015 King Buffalo went in on a split EP with Swedish band Lé Betre (I mean, hooking up with a Swedish partner is a dream of mine, so I see the appeal.) They re-recorded their standout tune Providence Eye with McVay on vocals, as well as two new tracks - Like a Cadillac and New Time. New Time opens their side of the EP with an infectious, descending riff that hooks you immediately. It is clear from the lyrics - No wasting around, it’s a new time - that they had moved on from Coon. Like a Cadillac follows up and is a three and a half minute jam that leaves you wanting more. The re-recorded version of Providence Eye closes out their side of the split EP and leaves no doubt that they are in charge. It is a tighter, heavier version, and the amazing outro is so low down that it will make you want to rob your own house.
With their lineup now set, it was time to put together enough music to tour on. In 2016, King Buffalo released Orion. Here you can witness the melding of their influences into something majestic and fantastic, and it is here that they really develop their signature style.
To explain this style, you need to understand basic song structure.
Most pop songs tend to go verse - chorus - verse - chorus - bridge - chorus - chorus. Sure, you could add in a solo for the bridge, or a detailed intro or outro, or another verse - but this is a tried and true formula. Some variation of this dominates the pop charts to this day.
Not with King Buffalo songs. These guys are the masters of the drop, and you hear it in most of their tunes. QotSA fans are no strangers to that long build and release; it is an integral part of tunes like The Evil Has Landed, God is in the Radio, Song For The Dead, and I Appear Missing. One of the sickest drops ever recorded happens in the middle of the Them Crooked Vultures tune No One Loves Me & Neither Do I. It is where the music turns around, and a new riff takes over, often along with a pace change. It is then that you realize that the song has built to this climactic moment, and you are engulfed by the music.
King Buffalo does this better than anyone else, and you hear it clearly articulated, again and again, on the album Orion.
Take the song Kerosene for example.
A rolling bass riff from Reynolds establishes the song right out of the gate. Donaldson produces punchy drum beats with cymbal crashes at the end of each phrase. McVay’s slide guitar rounds out the intro. McVay’s vocals - very Ozzy like, if Ozzy had any semblance of self-control - frame the first verse, which ends in a fuzzy, heavy riff with crashing cymbals. This same pattern is repeated a second time and the drop is teased at just past three minutes in, but does not happen quite yet. The listener’s anticipation builds as the airy, soaring solo from McVay calls out in contrast to the rolling bass. After the guitar solo bridge, the band goes right back into the chorus. But then it happens: THE DROP. Just past 5 minutes in, the song takes a complete and abrupt turn for a totally different riff that is at the same time heavier and brand new, and yet has been there all the while.
What King Buffalo does brilliantly is subvert your musical expectations.
The standard structure is V-C-V-C-B-C-C.
Kerosene is V-C-V-C-B-C-DROP-OUTRO. Just when you subliminally expect something the same, you get something different.
The entire album is like that. Orion hardly sounds like a debut. It is a mature and deliberate soundscape built by talented musicians who are making significant choices about their art. Songs like Drinking From The River Rising open with an expansive and elastic topography, but drill down to the molten lava of heavy riffs and distorted fuzz. Sleeps On A Vine begins with one of the most zen riffs you’ve ever heard and ends in a tumultuous and heavy sonic assault that is pure controlled chaos. Every song on the album is a study in contrasts that leaves you with auditory whiplash and a burning desire for more.
They are that good.
King Buffalo were able to tour on their new material, and did so extensively. They played clubs and larger venues, often with friends and fellow Stoner Rockers All Them Witches and other bands like The Sword and Elder. In 2017, the released the EP Repeater as a follow up. It is just three songs (The vinyl ad reads, All songs on one side! No need to flip!) but it is a heck of a musical journey. The title track off the EP is 13+ minutes long and is one huge build. When the fuzz finally drops after almost 8 minutes, it is a true cathartic moment. It sneaks up on you, and is so welcome when it hits - especially after McVay’s repetition that “Every Day is the Same* - that you intrinsically understand how great it is when things finally change for the better. Too Little Too Late is an instrumental tune that is both enveloping and expansive. It is a terrific bridge to the final track, Centurion, which is an unbelievable groove. Centurion has three minutes of set up leading to an unreal fuzzy drop that is so dirty it will get you evicted from your apartment.
The influence of their touring with All Them Witches can also be seen on their next full length release, 2018’s Longing To Be The Mountain. Ben McLeod from ATW produced the album. ATW, The Sword and Elder are all thanked in the liner notes. The album picks up right where Repeater leaves off, with KB experimenting with long form songs like Morning Song and the title track, and shorter jams like Sun Shivers, Cosmonaut, and Quickening. Reynolds and McVay pepper the songs with synthesizer sounds that add colour and texture to the overall compositions. Donaldson drums with impeccable precision to provide each song with a safe mooring to return to, driving the guitars forward at the same time as he holds the rhythm in check. This is most clearly evident in Eye Of The Storm. The result is a rich tapestry of expansive and flowing music full of heavy jams and storytelling that will leave the listener wanting more. Their signature build-to-sonic-explosion style does not let fans down.
The success of Longing To Be The Mountain allowed for extensive touring across North America and Europe. It also led to appearances at bigger gigs, like at Rockpalast and the Stoned & Dusted desert rock event in 2019. Anyone that has seen any of their live work knows that King Buffalo are simply hypnotizing on stage. Reynolds’ bass work is reminiscent of Geddy Lee with his complex and flowing style. Donaldson brings controlled power to the drum kit, and is ready to cut loose when the drop comes. And McVay has become a true front man, comfortable with the lead voice on guitar and the microphone.
Their next release, Dead Star, dropped in 2020 and generated all kinds of buzz in the Stoner Rock scene. Of course, the tour planned to support it got axed when the entire world went into lockdown. But the (short album? EP?) is simply fantastic. Red Star Pt. 1 & 2 continues their long form examination and has everything you’d expect from them. Echo of A Waning Star is a lament of just over 3 minutes that is near-perfect. Ecliptic sounds like the soundtrack to a John Carpenter movie and is a complete jam with serious cool 1980’s vibes. Dead Star, the title track, is almost Radiohead-esque in its evocative and regretful take on death and decay.
But the standout track has to be Eta Carinae, which has one of the greatest musical drops and turn-arounds you will ever hear. The entire song pivots just past four minutes in and becomes a 70’s anthem worthy of Led Zeppelin or Black Sabbath. If you listen to no other tune here today, you have to check it out. It will absolutely get stuck in your head.
The band dropped their first live record, Live At Freak Valley, in 2020. This is a really nice retrospective/greatest hits album kinda deal. What stands out is just how fucking tight the band is live. With some bands, live versions veer wildly from the recorded ones - and not at all in a good way. This record is the opposite. You can clearly hear on Orion and Kerosene that KB are just that good live.
In the wake of the global pandemic, King Buffalo decided to musically capture the moment in time. They decided to release a trifecta of albums. 2021 saw them drop The Burden of Restlessness and then Acheron. The third record in this trio is 2022’s Regenerator. It is really important to consider all three records in this Triptych at the same time, for they are a sonic cycle.
TBOR is a descent into despondency. Acheron is about hitting rock bottom, and being in Hell. Regenerator is about finding a way to claw yourself back into the light. Each album stands on its own, but together they form a sweeping epic journey that we can all relate to.
TBOR is an album where the protagonist gradually loses the will to exist. There is a cry of deep frustration in Burning, a not-so-subtle reference to a plague in Locusts, a study in being confined indoors in Silverfish, and an outright statement that our hero is sinking in Loam. In fact, the lyrics tell us: “Still I press my face into the ground/I’m waiting for the hammer to fall.”
It is not a happy album.
Just when you think things have to get better, we get the 4-track jam of Acheron. In this record, our hero has fallen to his lowest point. He has descended to Hell. The title track - the first one on the album - makes this clear, when it says: “Waking up under the ground/Silver asleep on my tongue.”
Just in case you didn’t get the classic reference, Acheron is the river one must cross in Greek mythology to get to the underworld. Souls going to Hell had coins placed in their mouth to pay Charon, the ferryman, to take them across the river to Hades. So our hero did sink into the Loam in the last album, and finds himself in Hell. This theme is reinforced in Zephyr, who was the Greek God of the West Wind, and Shadows, which references what the Greeks used to call dead spirits - Shades. And just in case you had any doubt, the final track on the album is Cerberus, named after the three-headed dog that guards the gates of Hades.
What is even cooler about Acheron is how it was recorded. Instead of a studio, they recorded the album underground in a cave.
Now that is commitment.
The final album in this cycle is 2022’s Regenerator. While the first two records were about descent, despondency, and hitting rock bottom, this record is about regaining hope and optimism, and finding a way to come back. We hear this clearly in the lyrics of the record’s final track, Firmament, which says: “Out of the loam I rise, embraced by the etheThe river below relieves my hands of silver” - clearly calling back to the tracks Loam and Acheron. And in case you didn’t know, in Greek mythology the Firmament means the Sky or the Heavens.
Our hero has left Hell behind, and ascended into Heaven.
References to positive mythology are all over this album, from the album art to the tracks Mercury and Avalon. It is a total jam. But the best song on the album might just be Mammoth. If you don’t like the guitar on this song, you and I can’t be friends.
I got a chance to see KB perform last year when they toured with Uncle Acid and the Deadbeats. They are fucking tight. They were the opening act, but were the absolute highlight of the show. I want everyone to hear this band because they really are something special.
Go check them out.
Links to QOTSA
We know that QotSA front man Josh Homme and Kyuss invented Stoner Rock in the 1990’s. They were the genre-defining band. King Buffalo (and other bands like All Them Witches) have picked up this proverbial torch and are now bringing the sound to the next generation of fans. King Buffalo drummer Scott Donaldson is known to be a huge QotSA fan. Perhaps he saw them live when they played in Rochester in 2014 in support of ...Like Clockwork.
It is also sometimes easy to forget that Josh was not the only architect of the low desert sound. Original Kyuss Drummer and co-founder Brant Bjork wrote many Kyuss tunes and continues to be a leader in the music scene today. King Buffalo have played with Bjork at festivals three times: Freak Valley Festival, Black Deer Festival and the aforementioned Stoned & Dusted. There is also a planned collaborative project between Bjork and King Buffalo that may be coming our way soon.
The future is bright, my friends.
Their Music
Providence Eye
In Dim Light
Pocket Full of Knife
King Buffalo songs from the Split EP with Lé Betre
Kerosene -- live in 2016
Drinking From The River Rising
Orion - entire album on Genesee Live
RepeateCenturion -- Recorded Live in the Quarantine Sessions put out by the band
Live at Rockpalast in 2019 - includes songs from LTBTM
Longing To Be The Mountain - Quarantine Sessions
Quickening -- everything is cool until the snake head pops out. Red Star Pt. 2 -- the official video
Ecliptic
Eta Carinae
Dead Star - Full Album
Silverfish
The Knocks
Loam
Hours
Acheron
Shadows
Mammoth
Firmament
Show Them Some Love
/KingBuffalo - C’mon, everyone -- there are just over 500 subscribers. Those are rookie numbers. You gotta pump those numbers up.
Previous Posts
Tool
Alice in Chains
King Gizzard and the Lizard Wizard
Rage Against The Machine
Soundgarden
Run the Jewels
Royal Blood
Arctic Monkeys
Ty Segall
Eagles of Death Metal
Them Crooked Vultures
Led Zeppelin
Greta Van Fleet
Ten Commandos
Screaming Trees
Sound City Players
Iggy Pop
Mastodon
The Strokes
Radiohead
All Them Witches
ZZ Top

Subway

A woman who is late for an important meeting takes the subway instead of a taxi. She has not ridden a subway in ten years, not since she was a secretary. The subway is smaller than she remembered, and colder. She realizes that the heat is not working in her car; she realizes she has boarded an express and that this train won't stop until it reaches 86th Street. She'll have to take a taxi after all, and go back downtown through all the traffic she thought she was avoiding. Nothing can be done now but wait for the ride to be over.
A man seated next to her is reading from a small notebook. She stares because it is exactly like one she often carries. The crabbed handwriting inside it is very like her own. How has this person come to have her notebook?
He is looking at the same two pages, turning them back and forth. She manages to read by looking down and sideways.
"A social security mom," one line begins. "An American girl who visited China," says the next. He moves his fingers: "I know I'm old. I paid for sex. I get no refund. I have no salt, no soul, no refill."
The man is wearing brown wool pants, a quilted storm coat, a fake-fur cap with ear flaps. He is, perhaps, fifty. He seems ordinary. The contents of the notebook are so odd the woman impulsively takes out an envelope and surreptitiously scribbles down what she has read.
The man, absorbed, turns another page. "God hears me. The death bullets. The fee." The woman is suddenly sure he found this notebook somewhere, that he is reading these pages over and over, trying to figure them out. "Both of us are voyeurs," she scribbles on her envelope. When she looks again, he is on a new page: "More death files, you may keep them, the tainters, the foam."
it occurs to her then that a Robert Louis Stevenson story would begin right here: the story would reveal that her copying has linked her forever in a chain of eavesdroppers, trespassers, and spies, and she wonders why she and her fellow passengers allowed themselves to be drawn in, to pass these sick words on, preserving them. Then she realizes that the chain moves back in time as well as forward—back, it seems to her, to the original writer, who will thus be able to know her.
The man shuts the notebook abruptly and puts it in an inside pocket. It's his own. He has put it in a pocket only an owner would use. And he is aware of her reading and writing. He is perspiring; so is she. His clothing is odd; that is, it was once ordinary, but now it's very dirty. The train slows for the stop at 86th. Predictably, the woman is terrified. To leave is to give him an opportunity to follow. She waits as long as she can before leaving her seat and steps off the train as the doors close. The man is still sitting inside. Back on the street, she hails a cab which delivers her to the building where the meeting has surely begun without her. She tips the driver without looking at him.

Six Plots

A writer spins plots in the most condensed forms possible. she strips them of description and comment; they simply outline a sequence of exchanges. she gradually loses the ability to make herself write them out as stories, every time she begins to work on a story, she makes instead other new condensed plot pieces. the obsession increases, she finds she must carry a notebook, so she can write wherever she is. eventually every daily activity—things as simple as walking to the corner for a bottle of milk—triggers another miniature plot, which she must stop to write down, she is unable to go on with her daily life.
A girl who is considered a model child in every way is locked into a closet by her elder brother one Saturday morning. he lets her out that night, overcome by guilt he cannot express, because the whole family has gone through the day without ever realizing the girl was missing.
A man who has been urged to join a club by his psychiatrist joins a pacifist movement, he leads daring demonstrations against nuclear submarines, nuclear power plants, and army recruiting centers. he is arrested several times. his sense of himself as a loner intensifies, he becomes a leader in the movement, manipulating others and spurring them to acts of defiance he no longer participates in. when he is confronted by the angry girlfriend of a young man who has been permanently injured by police at one of these demonstrations, he tells her he has no wish to be cannon fodder or to be part of any kind of group.
A doctor has hired a young homosexual as his office secretary. his sympathy was engaged during the job interview when the young man told him about his struggle to accept himself and live openly as a gay man. the doctor discovers several months later that the secretary is impersonating him after hours to impress his sexual contacts. recognizing how the young man had flattered him into acting against his instincts, and how susceptible he is to being flattered, the doctor feels morally responsible for the misconduct. instead of firing the secretary, the doctor has new office keys made to keep him out of the office after hours. he gives the secretary less to do and hires a part-timer to handle some of the work. his behavior becomes more and more peculiar in his effort to avoid the necessary confrontation. what will rescue him?
A painter has been given a solo exhibition at one of the city's biggest galleries, the show gets the full treatment, and so does he: good reviews, crowds everyday, invitations here and there, and, best of all, the gallery sells every picture. for the first time in his life, the painter is flush; he decides to treat himself to his first trip to Europe. when his jubilant friends have left him at the airline lobby, and he has walked though the jetway to the plane door, he turns and stops. why am I leaving what I've worked so long to have? he thinks, he walks back up the ramp—and is promptly arrested.
For more than three hours, he is questioned and searched; all the passengers are made to disembark; luggage is disemboweled; the bomb dogs are brought in to sniff.
When he finally rejoins his friends very late that evening, he tells them it was worth it not to go.
The daughter of a world-famous scientist makes friends with the son of a small-town photographer in the country town where the scientist and his family are spending summer. both fathers are delighted, the photographer because he hopes the famous man will be helpful to his son; the scientist because he approves of the sturdy American values exemplified by the photographer's simple aspirations and lifestyle. (he does not approve of the private school his wife sends their daughter to.) both fathers speak so approvingly and at length about this friendship that the children fight viciously, subsequently both of them lie to their parents about what happened.

-- Martha King. Collected, respectively, in Little Tales of Family and War, 1990-1999 (Spuyten Duyvil, 2000), and North and South (Spuyten Duyvil, 2006).