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2023.05.29 03:07 June031987 WTS/WTT Bradley Marais Custom Vector
Reposting with a price drop
Datestamp
TV/SV: $1075 Would like to Sell or Trade BM Custom Knives Vector #49.
Only trade i am interested in is a Jason Guthrie Rover with speed holes.
Pretty rare config with M390 Straight Back, hand rubbed blade, and DM Green Carbon. Zirc Thumbstud and Stand-offs installed, extra gold anodized thumbstud included. Also included is COA, rag, and pouch as seen in album below. I am the second owner, blade was carried and used by original owner. Rate this as a B, normal pocket wear on lock side, blade has very light snails as shown in pictures.
Vector Video
submitted by June031987 to Knife_Swap [link] [comments]
Datestamp
TV/SV: $1075 Would like to Sell or Trade BM Custom Knives Vector #49.
Only trade i am interested in is a Jason Guthrie Rover with speed holes.
Pretty rare config with M390 Straight Back, hand rubbed blade, and DM Green Carbon. Zirc Thumbstud and Stand-offs installed, extra gold anodized thumbstud included. Also included is COA, rag, and pouch as seen in album below. I am the second owner, blade was carried and used by original owner. Rate this as a B, normal pocket wear on lock side, blade has very light snails as shown in pictures.
Vector Video
2023.05.29 02:59 Mightbeagoat Caught a pretty cool looking smallmouth today. I've never seen one without patterns and this light of a green/gold color. Is this common?
 | submitted by Mightbeagoat to Fishing [link] [comments] |
2023.05.29 02:46 gunterthedestroyer 29 [F4M] #SC/USA- Looking for my weirdo
I'm admittingly pretty weird and I have no shame. Is it off putting to a lot of people? Yes. So, I'm looking for someone who can vibe with that. I sing to my dog and I don't think she likes it very much. I talk to myself outloud...in Public...even at work.
I'm looking for someone who knows how to be verbally affectionate without being creepy. There's a fine balance! But affectionate is an absolute need! I want goodnight calls and goodmorning texts. Verbal affection is super important to me. My love language is words of affirmation.
Don't use the chat if you can help it.
No married men. 25+. PLEASE be from the US or Canada.
Here's some true (and only slightly facts about me)
submitted by gunterthedestroyer to AgeGapPersonals [link] [comments]
I'm looking for someone who knows how to be verbally affectionate without being creepy. There's a fine balance! But affectionate is an absolute need! I want goodnight calls and goodmorning texts. Verbal affection is super important to me. My love language is words of affirmation.
Don't use the chat if you can help it.
No married men. 25+. PLEASE be from the US or Canada.
Here's some true (and only slightly facts about me)
- I often buy shit I don't need…bought a blanket for my cat (in my defense I bought it from goodwill and it was new) and a stocking for my dog. She ruins every sweater I buy…but yet I keep buying them.
- My favorite color is green but it's a special shade. It's like between forest green and emerald. Maybe a dark emerald?
- I have a shit load of siblings.
- My music taste hasn't changed much since high school. I make this huge playlist to only listen to the same songs over and over and over. But sometimes I'll find new (to me) artists...but they're still on the same wavelength if things I listened to in high school
- I'm infj and hufflepuff
- I like hugs, nice sounding voices, and tattoos...and beards are nice too
- I have a really bad memory and lose my shit allll the time. I've left so many things at my sister's house.
- My ideal living situation involves bunkbeds so that there's plenty of room for activities
- I work at a Montessori school. Trying to become a teacher eventually.
- I watch a lot of nonsense TV to relax...SpongeBob is still my jam. I even have SpongeBob shoes
- I don't care if you're ftm or nonbinary. If we click, we click/t] SC/USA- Looking for my weirdo
2023.05.29 02:43 megaboto yet another fanfiction of a fanfiction
It was a day like any other. Delvers fought and harvested, mana flowed in, expansions were made and threats were no longer present since Deepholm was eliminated, and life was peaceful as little changed. The only thing differentiating it in any way was the inspection scheduled, yet even that was a common occurrence, with the unusual types of upgrades and expansions that Caldera made. However, as is usual for Caldera, any occurrence she calls normal or positive turns into something unexpected very quickly
And so it was that Lydia entered her territory, communication stone in hand, and started her exploration of the dungeon, killing creatures among the way and being shown the novelties that were added. Being larger than previously, Lydia ended up deciding to explore Caldera in two phases, making a stop at the bath house to regenerate from her wounds. And this is where the unusualness begins. While she is undressing to relax in the bath, Caldera decided to look over in that (un?-)fortunate moment, her gaze drifting as she was lost in day dreams, at least until she accidentally stumbled upon the inspector that just got done using the artificial hot spring, stretching her toned body in the sun, the droplets glistering as they slowly wandered across her abs, just like caldera's stare, one that she noticed too late to stop before it occurred. Her flustered mind quickly directed her looks somewhere, literally anywhere else, trying to distract herself from this breach of privacy and so deciding to drill emmet with questions she randomly made up. the alchemical scion was only too happy to comply, not noticing the emotions shared through their bond or simply feigning ignorance, only to surprise her by asking what cheese is and why it could be grated on Lydia's abs, being prevented from asking any further questions that could embarrass her master by said master making their quick escape to bother someone else.
The inspector meanwhile got ready to continue her delving, and so made her way to beat up the sexy rabbit men, who were currently busy covering themselves in oil, posing, wrestling with each other and doing other things that served no practical purpose before Lydia arrived. She observing the scene with an unreadable gaze before talking into the stone, stating that the bunnies seem to be ready to make an enclave, despite the clear lack of intelligence that is usually required, as well that they somehow have procured Oil, despite no apparent access to plants with a high fat content nor any form of press machinery. She also noticed and told the stone how there appears to be a crowd of various people watching the bunnies, probably collecting information and waiting for the best moment to engage. With the note sent, she decided to indulge the posing and imposing rabbits as well as the crowd by charging in head first rather than being careful, feeling familiar with the way these brutes worked and trusting that Caldera would not allow any serious harm befall her. Expecting a more or less easy fight, she was surprised as any attempt to grab one of the bunnies or strike at them with her weapon just ended with them moving with the strike or grabbing movement, both her hands and weapons slipping over their bodies rather than inflicting any serious harm. The fight which she expected to last only 5 minutes at worst thus got prolonged, with Lydia making a mental note that these Rabbits have learned from her fight with Jackie, thus proving the capability to learn more than just the most rudimentary of functions as well as that she once again underestimated the dungeon, which has disguised yet another massive change as something one might dismiss as inconsequential.
Unable to truly harm one another in a fight ending way, the battle instead went on for a minute, then ten, and simply continued as the two opposing parties tried to win via attrition, or rather, one of them did while the other simply launched itself against their enemy, prompting said enemy to simply dodge out of the way unable to attack any fallen bunnies to exploit their prone positions when they fell due to the other ones rushing at her, with both sides too stubborn or maybe brain dead to end the fight by running away or calling backup, their pride as fighters on the line that even death wound not be a price too much to pay to preserve.
While the two parties battled, the mass of people from earlier now started to increase as a lot more people now wanted to observe the spectacle, the cheers from the crowd only serving as further fuel to the ego of the participants of which eventually Caldera took part of too, having mostly forgotten the incident from before by conversing with Giorno, who dutifully distracted his Don by explaining the details of army composition to her, which she listened to with a thanks. Having come fearing the worst as usually can be expected from her brawler bunnies, she instead was greeted by a crowd of raunchy and cheering parties and what looked like a battle between the buns and Lydia. even more surprising, she noticed them as well as her cru- the inspector covered in Oil and sweat too, likely from the times where a bunny hit or she tackled or tried to grab one, the reasoning coming to her later when she received a recap of the fight by Alexa. her wondering of when they even acquired oil was quickly washed away as she noticed that what the fighters were doing was actually something found in the media she often consumed in her alone time while she was still human, embarrassment mixed with the realization that the scions were not the only ones able to seek information from their Dungeon, with an even more growing feeling of horror appearing at the thoughts of what else her denizens would try from the rich store of forbidden knowledge that was her brain. What if they adopted a certain style dictated by striped thigh-highs? Or even worse, _capitalism_ and ***middle management!?***
Breaking out of her unholy thoughts, she realized that the fight was finally won by the inspector, the bunnies not having a way to sweat to relieve themselves of the high temperature, thus dropping in exhaustion as their body was continuously exposed to ever increasing amount of heat, yielding their loss. and there, over the pile of exhausted brawlers stood Lydia, her body glistering from the sun, crowd cheering and hair blowing in the wind. There was nothing more cool than this, and if dungeons could die from blood loss then Caldera would have when the inspector noticed her presence and gave her a wink. Prompted to once agayn bravely charge into battle backwards, Our surprisingly-down-bad-for-a-dungeon heroine decides to look at the sky instead as a distraction, finding herself seeing Lydia in the forms that the skies formed. Unable to make a tactical retreat, she gave up and decided to watch her Idol from a distance, hoping that she would not be noticed following her. "Nope, not creepy at all. This is my home and it is okay to watch what is happening in it" were the thoughts as she followed the Inspector doing her work, who always had a stern look on her face as she did her duties, leaving the scions wondering why she still remained an emerald when a ruby would be more fitting to represent her physical manifestation.
at last most of the inspection was over and Lydia called upon Jackie in a request to inspect the dungeon core as procedure demanded of her to do if possible, and Caldera had to come out of the questionably secret hiding spot of far away to answer, the answer as usual being yes. Leading her to the core, the dungeon trusting the inspector enough to not post up any guards while at her most vulnerable, the inspection of the core too started as usual too with Lydia focusing on the core's parameters and Caldera trying to and still failing to not look at Lydia, though this time she held back far less than she usually would due to the former experiences. looking into her eyes, she felt like she fell into them like she would into a black hole in the night sky, a force of nature as inescapable as it is beautiful, the rings of color around it being an amalgam of all the matter that collected around it for over millions of years, glowing brighter than even the stars which dotted the background with a faint blue spread throughout, all of them coalescing into a single piece of beautiful imagery as deep as the cosmos, stretching for infinity despite the small confines in which it had to be placed, the slow hypnotizing movement of it all leaving her entrapped and completely lost without any conscious thought being able to form as she stared into the abyss and the abyss stared back.
it took her far too long than she'd like to admit, but eventually after what felt like an eternity Caldera noticed that the staring back part was more literal than she thought it could be, for Lydia was looking directly at her, a wide grin on her face. The thoughts stopping in an instant before starting to race, an attempt was made to talk herself out of the situation that formed. "You, umm, you've got interesting eyes" shit, that was just an admission that she actually was staring at them.
"Oh, you think so?" came the reply from Lydia. "Well, I hope they are as interesting as the rest of my body is, considering how intensely you've been staring at it throughout the day." Fuck. A laugh escaped her beautiful, soft lips which she sadly covered up soon with her hand before speaking again, the grin growing more mischievous. Was it that bad? "You know, it is kinda hard to ignore it when it feels like your vision is licking me all over" okay, it is that bad. in a panic, I try reaching out to Giorno, Jackie or anybody else who might be close, just to find them all too far to respond immediately. shit shit shit, I am on my own, what do I do now? I found myself left word or metaphorically-breath-less as this devilish angel in front of me moved closer, gay panic crossing past peaks by the moments, every second a new height as she said in a hushed voice "you know, you could always just have asked me".
All thoughts coming to a stop, I feel like my eyes are about to pop out of my metaphysical head as she unfastens her armour somewhat, taking her sweet time to loosen the belts, letting the protective equipment show part of her midriff as well as the inner sideboob. As she finishes up the teasing display, she starts to stretch in the very same way she did in the safe zone, and poses a bit like the bunnies did, all the while I simply keep staring at the show in front of me, not able to say a thing while half my brain cheered and the other one was panicking, though the cheering part is louder.
Watching her showing herself this way specifically for me, I cannot help but drift my gaze upon her soft lips formed into a pleasing, teasing grin, something that did not go unnoticed by her. "when you're not focused on my eyes or body, this is what you mainly look at. So, would you like to feel them?" for yet another time this day, my thoughts froze and ran rabid at the same time, unable to keep up with the information my brain was supposed to process as I watched her move closer yet again, her soft, beautiful lips being licked slowly by her tongue as she visibly prepared to do something with them. wait, wait, I am not prepared, I'm not mentally ready! There's no heads up, I did not even brush my teeth! Can I really let my first time be like this when -
all thoughts were silenced when her lips met my core, a blue-green-golden glow forming between them and my core as an electrifying feeling swept across me from the glowing point, the lingering taste of aether still on me as well as a feeling akin to a shiver that runs up one's body as a tingling reminder of what just happened. Letting out a soft giggle, Lydia gave me a smile, this one filled with warmth rather than mischievous intent "you know, of all the things I expected, giving my first kiss do a dungeon was not one of them" I simply sat there for a moment, stunned before bursting out in a WOOOOHOOOO! Not even caring about what happened in the past nor thinking about the future, I just partied at the whole scenario that just played out, before the feeling of her finger on the emerald grounded me once again. slowly running the finger in circles, she makes my legs melt with that one simple motion, as she dreams "now that you've gotten a kiss, we can except even more in the future, can we not?" leaving me once again as a stammering mess all at her command. My core sat there with my presence, she slowly stood up, saying those dreaded words "I'm afraid for now I have to leave - there are duties I need to uphold, " making me long for more, just another moment of this closeness that I've never felt before, before she makes another mischievous grin, easily plugging those thoughts with a "but don't worry, next time I return, we shall make it up for alllll the time that we've missed out on" as she exits while wiggling her hips somewhat for me to enjoy, leaving me with anticipation of the next time I need to be inspected, thinking about whatever she may have in store for me.
***
"Okay, what the hell is this?"
I wave the piece of paper around telepathically in front of the group of scions that was assembled, most of them having an unrecognizable expression on their face with Kelvin simply wanting to get away, Emmet looking intrigued at this piece of non alchemical information while Alexa simply continued to sort the files.
"Would somebody please mind explaining, why there is a FANFICTION of me and Lydia in the folder related to me?" no answer, Kevin simply looked like he just wishes the time back when he could do his job by relaxing on a malleable rock.
"And more Importantly, _why am I portrayed as such a bottom in it?_" once again the group gave no further reaction, except once again Kevin, not handling through the wrangler (a German saying)
"Who even made this? and how long does it exist? and perhaps even worse, why is it that EVERYONE seems to know about this except me?" yet again the same thing repeated, except for a chuckle from somewhere, the source of which I did not notice before the origin supressed any further noise
"And you wish to tell me that Alexa distributed this to everyone, scions and Denizens, throughout the entire network!?" the reply was a simple emotion of "I serve" felt throughout the bond, as another chuckle came from the crowd
shifting her piercing look towards group, the unfortunate target of it would up being Giorno, as she looked around him while he held a face as expressionless as a Moai, asking "Did you do this, you traitorous little toad?" directing the stare at Jackie, she then asked "and what about you? going to keep quiet too, despite being one of the first?"
Emmet received a short look, quickly moving on to someone else as she just did not think that this curious creature could ever hide any of their discoveries, let alone fake interest in a topic. The twin scions simply pointed at each other, leaving the search for the culprit fruitless and the fanfiction without an author
submitted by megaboto to u/megaboto [link] [comments]
And so it was that Lydia entered her territory, communication stone in hand, and started her exploration of the dungeon, killing creatures among the way and being shown the novelties that were added. Being larger than previously, Lydia ended up deciding to explore Caldera in two phases, making a stop at the bath house to regenerate from her wounds. And this is where the unusualness begins. While she is undressing to relax in the bath, Caldera decided to look over in that (un?-)fortunate moment, her gaze drifting as she was lost in day dreams, at least until she accidentally stumbled upon the inspector that just got done using the artificial hot spring, stretching her toned body in the sun, the droplets glistering as they slowly wandered across her abs, just like caldera's stare, one that she noticed too late to stop before it occurred. Her flustered mind quickly directed her looks somewhere, literally anywhere else, trying to distract herself from this breach of privacy and so deciding to drill emmet with questions she randomly made up. the alchemical scion was only too happy to comply, not noticing the emotions shared through their bond or simply feigning ignorance, only to surprise her by asking what cheese is and why it could be grated on Lydia's abs, being prevented from asking any further questions that could embarrass her master by said master making their quick escape to bother someone else.
The inspector meanwhile got ready to continue her delving, and so made her way to beat up the sexy rabbit men, who were currently busy covering themselves in oil, posing, wrestling with each other and doing other things that served no practical purpose before Lydia arrived. She observing the scene with an unreadable gaze before talking into the stone, stating that the bunnies seem to be ready to make an enclave, despite the clear lack of intelligence that is usually required, as well that they somehow have procured Oil, despite no apparent access to plants with a high fat content nor any form of press machinery. She also noticed and told the stone how there appears to be a crowd of various people watching the bunnies, probably collecting information and waiting for the best moment to engage. With the note sent, she decided to indulge the posing and imposing rabbits as well as the crowd by charging in head first rather than being careful, feeling familiar with the way these brutes worked and trusting that Caldera would not allow any serious harm befall her. Expecting a more or less easy fight, she was surprised as any attempt to grab one of the bunnies or strike at them with her weapon just ended with them moving with the strike or grabbing movement, both her hands and weapons slipping over their bodies rather than inflicting any serious harm. The fight which she expected to last only 5 minutes at worst thus got prolonged, with Lydia making a mental note that these Rabbits have learned from her fight with Jackie, thus proving the capability to learn more than just the most rudimentary of functions as well as that she once again underestimated the dungeon, which has disguised yet another massive change as something one might dismiss as inconsequential.
Unable to truly harm one another in a fight ending way, the battle instead went on for a minute, then ten, and simply continued as the two opposing parties tried to win via attrition, or rather, one of them did while the other simply launched itself against their enemy, prompting said enemy to simply dodge out of the way unable to attack any fallen bunnies to exploit their prone positions when they fell due to the other ones rushing at her, with both sides too stubborn or maybe brain dead to end the fight by running away or calling backup, their pride as fighters on the line that even death wound not be a price too much to pay to preserve.
While the two parties battled, the mass of people from earlier now started to increase as a lot more people now wanted to observe the spectacle, the cheers from the crowd only serving as further fuel to the ego of the participants of which eventually Caldera took part of too, having mostly forgotten the incident from before by conversing with Giorno, who dutifully distracted his Don by explaining the details of army composition to her, which she listened to with a thanks. Having come fearing the worst as usually can be expected from her brawler bunnies, she instead was greeted by a crowd of raunchy and cheering parties and what looked like a battle between the buns and Lydia. even more surprising, she noticed them as well as her cru- the inspector covered in Oil and sweat too, likely from the times where a bunny hit or she tackled or tried to grab one, the reasoning coming to her later when she received a recap of the fight by Alexa. her wondering of when they even acquired oil was quickly washed away as she noticed that what the fighters were doing was actually something found in the media she often consumed in her alone time while she was still human, embarrassment mixed with the realization that the scions were not the only ones able to seek information from their Dungeon, with an even more growing feeling of horror appearing at the thoughts of what else her denizens would try from the rich store of forbidden knowledge that was her brain. What if they adopted a certain style dictated by striped thigh-highs? Or even worse, _capitalism_ and ***middle management!?***
Breaking out of her unholy thoughts, she realized that the fight was finally won by the inspector, the bunnies not having a way to sweat to relieve themselves of the high temperature, thus dropping in exhaustion as their body was continuously exposed to ever increasing amount of heat, yielding their loss. and there, over the pile of exhausted brawlers stood Lydia, her body glistering from the sun, crowd cheering and hair blowing in the wind. There was nothing more cool than this, and if dungeons could die from blood loss then Caldera would have when the inspector noticed her presence and gave her a wink. Prompted to once agayn bravely charge into battle backwards, Our surprisingly-down-bad-for-a-dungeon heroine decides to look at the sky instead as a distraction, finding herself seeing Lydia in the forms that the skies formed. Unable to make a tactical retreat, she gave up and decided to watch her Idol from a distance, hoping that she would not be noticed following her. "Nope, not creepy at all. This is my home and it is okay to watch what is happening in it" were the thoughts as she followed the Inspector doing her work, who always had a stern look on her face as she did her duties, leaving the scions wondering why she still remained an emerald when a ruby would be more fitting to represent her physical manifestation.
at last most of the inspection was over and Lydia called upon Jackie in a request to inspect the dungeon core as procedure demanded of her to do if possible, and Caldera had to come out of the questionably secret hiding spot of far away to answer, the answer as usual being yes. Leading her to the core, the dungeon trusting the inspector enough to not post up any guards while at her most vulnerable, the inspection of the core too started as usual too with Lydia focusing on the core's parameters and Caldera trying to and still failing to not look at Lydia, though this time she held back far less than she usually would due to the former experiences. looking into her eyes, she felt like she fell into them like she would into a black hole in the night sky, a force of nature as inescapable as it is beautiful, the rings of color around it being an amalgam of all the matter that collected around it for over millions of years, glowing brighter than even the stars which dotted the background with a faint blue spread throughout, all of them coalescing into a single piece of beautiful imagery as deep as the cosmos, stretching for infinity despite the small confines in which it had to be placed, the slow hypnotizing movement of it all leaving her entrapped and completely lost without any conscious thought being able to form as she stared into the abyss and the abyss stared back.
it took her far too long than she'd like to admit, but eventually after what felt like an eternity Caldera noticed that the staring back part was more literal than she thought it could be, for Lydia was looking directly at her, a wide grin on her face. The thoughts stopping in an instant before starting to race, an attempt was made to talk herself out of the situation that formed. "You, umm, you've got interesting eyes" shit, that was just an admission that she actually was staring at them.
"Oh, you think so?" came the reply from Lydia. "Well, I hope they are as interesting as the rest of my body is, considering how intensely you've been staring at it throughout the day." Fuck. A laugh escaped her beautiful, soft lips which she sadly covered up soon with her hand before speaking again, the grin growing more mischievous. Was it that bad? "You know, it is kinda hard to ignore it when it feels like your vision is licking me all over" okay, it is that bad. in a panic, I try reaching out to Giorno, Jackie or anybody else who might be close, just to find them all too far to respond immediately. shit shit shit, I am on my own, what do I do now? I found myself left word or metaphorically-breath-less as this devilish angel in front of me moved closer, gay panic crossing past peaks by the moments, every second a new height as she said in a hushed voice "you know, you could always just have asked me".
All thoughts coming to a stop, I feel like my eyes are about to pop out of my metaphysical head as she unfastens her armour somewhat, taking her sweet time to loosen the belts, letting the protective equipment show part of her midriff as well as the inner sideboob. As she finishes up the teasing display, she starts to stretch in the very same way she did in the safe zone, and poses a bit like the bunnies did, all the while I simply keep staring at the show in front of me, not able to say a thing while half my brain cheered and the other one was panicking, though the cheering part is louder.
Watching her showing herself this way specifically for me, I cannot help but drift my gaze upon her soft lips formed into a pleasing, teasing grin, something that did not go unnoticed by her. "when you're not focused on my eyes or body, this is what you mainly look at. So, would you like to feel them?" for yet another time this day, my thoughts froze and ran rabid at the same time, unable to keep up with the information my brain was supposed to process as I watched her move closer yet again, her soft, beautiful lips being licked slowly by her tongue as she visibly prepared to do something with them. wait, wait, I am not prepared, I'm not mentally ready! There's no heads up, I did not even brush my teeth! Can I really let my first time be like this when -
all thoughts were silenced when her lips met my core, a blue-green-golden glow forming between them and my core as an electrifying feeling swept across me from the glowing point, the lingering taste of aether still on me as well as a feeling akin to a shiver that runs up one's body as a tingling reminder of what just happened. Letting out a soft giggle, Lydia gave me a smile, this one filled with warmth rather than mischievous intent "you know, of all the things I expected, giving my first kiss do a dungeon was not one of them" I simply sat there for a moment, stunned before bursting out in a WOOOOHOOOO! Not even caring about what happened in the past nor thinking about the future, I just partied at the whole scenario that just played out, before the feeling of her finger on the emerald grounded me once again. slowly running the finger in circles, she makes my legs melt with that one simple motion, as she dreams "now that you've gotten a kiss, we can except even more in the future, can we not?" leaving me once again as a stammering mess all at her command. My core sat there with my presence, she slowly stood up, saying those dreaded words "I'm afraid for now I have to leave - there are duties I need to uphold, " making me long for more, just another moment of this closeness that I've never felt before, before she makes another mischievous grin, easily plugging those thoughts with a "but don't worry, next time I return, we shall make it up for alllll the time that we've missed out on" as she exits while wiggling her hips somewhat for me to enjoy, leaving me with anticipation of the next time I need to be inspected, thinking about whatever she may have in store for me.
***
"Okay, what the hell is this?"
I wave the piece of paper around telepathically in front of the group of scions that was assembled, most of them having an unrecognizable expression on their face with Kelvin simply wanting to get away, Emmet looking intrigued at this piece of non alchemical information while Alexa simply continued to sort the files.
"Would somebody please mind explaining, why there is a FANFICTION of me and Lydia in the folder related to me?" no answer, Kevin simply looked like he just wishes the time back when he could do his job by relaxing on a malleable rock.
"And more Importantly, _why am I portrayed as such a bottom in it?_" once again the group gave no further reaction, except once again Kevin, not handling through the wrangler (a German saying)
"Who even made this? and how long does it exist? and perhaps even worse, why is it that EVERYONE seems to know about this except me?" yet again the same thing repeated, except for a chuckle from somewhere, the source of which I did not notice before the origin supressed any further noise
"And you wish to tell me that Alexa distributed this to everyone, scions and Denizens, throughout the entire network!?" the reply was a simple emotion of "I serve" felt throughout the bond, as another chuckle came from the crowd
shifting her piercing look towards group, the unfortunate target of it would up being Giorno, as she looked around him while he held a face as expressionless as a Moai, asking "Did you do this, you traitorous little toad?" directing the stare at Jackie, she then asked "and what about you? going to keep quiet too, despite being one of the first?"
Emmet received a short look, quickly moving on to someone else as she just did not think that this curious creature could ever hide any of their discoveries, let alone fake interest in a topic. The twin scions simply pointed at each other, leaving the search for the culprit fruitless and the fanfiction without an author
2023.05.29 02:32 CheekyXD Help reducing food budget, spending nearly $200 every 7-10 days for just myself.
I will preface this by saying I am very lucky that I can afford this, I know there are people doing it tough just affording to eat at all with food like stir fry, beans and lentil soup, and there was a time when I was doing something similar.
If I wanted to halve my food budget I can go back to simple food made with basic ingredients like I mentioned above and I would survive fine, but cooking is something I enjoy and I like making new recipes to keep what I eat varied, so I could justify spending a bit more than the average person would probably spend on food. How it used to be is I would buy nothing preprocessed and make everything from scratch to offset some of the extra costs of ingredients, so even if I was spending more, it wasn't by a huge amount, but lately doing this is just causing my spending to balloon.
So I guess to my actual question, I want to know how people manage the middle ground of cooking varied and interesting foods, and keep spending somewhat reasonable.
For example, here is what I planned to eat for the week, and here is the receipt from Pak n Save, also add about $15 for tofu and varied greens from the asian grocer.
I don't think anything I am making on their own is very extravagant, yet together it costs so much! The only "nice to haves" I think are orange juice, and the more expensive chorizo since I wanted to try make chorizo sandwiches. The rest I think are pretty basic ingredients. Is this just how much things cost now, feel free to roast me if I am out of touch though.
submitted by CheekyXD to PersonalFinanceNZ [link] [comments]
If I wanted to halve my food budget I can go back to simple food made with basic ingredients like I mentioned above and I would survive fine, but cooking is something I enjoy and I like making new recipes to keep what I eat varied, so I could justify spending a bit more than the average person would probably spend on food. How it used to be is I would buy nothing preprocessed and make everything from scratch to offset some of the extra costs of ingredients, so even if I was spending more, it wasn't by a huge amount, but lately doing this is just causing my spending to balloon.
So I guess to my actual question, I want to know how people manage the middle ground of cooking varied and interesting foods, and keep spending somewhat reasonable.
For example, here is what I planned to eat for the week, and here is the receipt from Pak n Save, also add about $15 for tofu and varied greens from the asian grocer.
I don't think anything I am making on their own is very extravagant, yet together it costs so much! The only "nice to haves" I think are orange juice, and the more expensive chorizo since I wanted to try make chorizo sandwiches. The rest I think are pretty basic ingredients. Is this just how much things cost now, feel free to roast me if I am out of touch though.
2023.05.29 02:19 YoutubeSGSAMI Throne & Liberty The TRUTH They WONT TELL YOU!
Aight lets Run it back I got really tired of Streamers streaming this game who have no idea how to play an old school style MMORPG and before you say anything there are currently 3 other School MMORPGS in development in the west and Runescape is currently the WORLDS MOST played game by daily numbers.
Don't ask me what it cost to get into the beta because it cost way to much then i am willing to admit so lets talk about the good the bad and the streamers got it wrong stuff.
The Good:
Optimization OH MY GOD what else is there to say in the clip below you can see my stream highlight. Am standing on a pretty open ledge seeing the world down below playing on MAX OUT graphics 100% Epic not a SINGLE FRAME LOSS not 1 FRAME was lost i had my capped at 144 and NOT A SINGLE frame was ever lost Optimization in this game is beyond insane not 1 other game company has ever come close to game optimization like this. During events with over 100 people nearby my FPS on EPIC MAXED OUT will not drop below 80 and thats over 100 people on screen! and what else is there to say the game looks amazing. For the record i don't have the best PC on the market right now i have a 3090 with a Ryzen 5900X Cpu and 32GB Ram. so if your rocking a 2060+ you should be able to play on at least High/Med with maxed out settings.
https://www.twitch.tv/sgsamii/clip/StylishSaltyMonkeyKappaWealth-CCR81z89Cebop5v_
^ Clip of the view from stream highlights.
Story/Cinematics
The story and cinematics up to first 6 hours of gameplay is extremly fun and engaging am a very avid MMO Lore fan and honestly when certain events happen no spoilers it really did put a tear in my eye even after seeing it 4 times the music just hits PERFECTLY followed by the very detailed animations on the face and body posture. There are story cinematics, Movie Cinematics, and Stop motion animated picture cinematics and ingame engine cinematics there are so many cinematics in this game and i honestly love the lore so far.
World Events
The best MMO with world events for me has been Guild Wars 2 no other MMO has ever given me that itch until today Throne and Liberty has some of the best world events both PVE and PVP (tho mainly i tried the PVP) World Events basically entire Zones once every 2 hours different zones a world event occours for example wolf tails you kill wolfs collect tails and deposit easy reward. People can attack you and steal your tails so be careful. These events are fun but fun really only comes from rewards without rewards its just brainless repetition. The Rewards are by far the most important rewards in the game in the form of Paper you use paper to craft all of your skills No papper No skills. I grouped up with 3-4 people and we were gaming we placed top 5 and all of us got some paper!
Crafting
Similar to Albion & Runescape all items are player crafted. The only exception as far as i can tell is Green/Blue that can drop from monsters everything else especially Purple drops as a craftible materiel you need to spend extra recourses to make. Crafting actually goes very in depth in this game not only items but as mentioned earlier skills are also craftible this game WILL NOT GIVE YOU SKILLS so if your lvl 20 and wondering when your getting your first skill? you Wont you have to go craft it and you can even do that as low as lvl 5 you just need paper.
Bosses
World Bosses aside that turn into loot pineata like every other MMORPG TL goes a step ahead and fixes this problem the same world bosses will appear as solo 1v1 world bosses the player can challange for massive XP and Gold you can rechallenge but the XP/Gold get MUCH lower. if you wanted to have fun with friends you can! THE SAME WORLD bosses will drop BETTER loot if done as a Guild RAID. it sounds exactly as it sounds the same world bossess and much more can be done in a guild group only your guild has to work together to take them down.
Guld System
By far the most advanced Guild system i have ever seen in my life END GAME LOOT is directly obtainable through the guild system from bosses to other aspect of the game. You also have a guild house that can be upgraded to add more layers and layers the guild house can be visted by all guild members there is even a private guild dueling arena inside the house. You can also directly declare war with other guilds this will turn to open world pvp anywhere you are for the avid PVP fans.
Skills
I mentioned you need paper to craft skills but then you can upgrade each skill each skill has 5 upgrades and then a Rare, Epic and LEGENDARY upgrade effect. this is not trivila this is a WHOLE NEW SKILL your entire skill will change in some cases from basic > Legendary for example the legendary skill on 1 of the skills allows you to recast if the skill crits INFININETLY.
Exploration
This game world is like nothing you seen before there are clues hidden everywhere a random shipwreck? oh there a letter hiddin in the cabin? oh it tells you to find the hidden treasure BIG LOOT. i have honestly never played a game that prioritizes exploration to this level TL has surprised me at every step.
Enhancing
This is by far the best enhancement system in any game i have ever seen at least UP TO BLUE and purple but not 100% confirmed THERE IS NO FAILURE you will always 100% Succeed when enhancing BUT you have chances to succeed BETTER and with Higher percentages when upgrading gear. So yes you will not fail but you only got 5% or 1% when you need 100% instead of getting 40% on a 10% chance. this might be the dopamine hitting but NEVER failing ALWAYS succeeding really does feel much better.
The Cons OH BOY.
Combat
This has been mentioned a lot so lets talk the combat will feel like Runescape in unreal engine 5 an updated version of Runescape 3 into a brand new world and a new engine so if your coming from black desert this is not the game for you. However i will admit Melee combat needs to be changed you should be able to move while auto attacking as Melee its far to much of a disadvantage to not be able too. If your Into Lineage & Runescape like me with over 50,000 hours across 17 years on Runescape you will enjoy the combat at least i did. The skills combo into each other really well but yes there is "clunkyness" now this VERY WELL COULD be because of the 300+ ping every streamer is playing on and the beta server is holding over 15,000 players on 1 server but at the end of the day its not game breaking if your use to it. There are YouTubers for example "ForceGaming" Claiming there are not that many movement skills as a Melee this is wrong your first Skill you learn starting the game is a dash with the 2H Sword and your first big skill on daggers is Shadowstep. and they are on a very short cooldown.
Auto Combat (Astral Hunting)
This is an instant turn of for most of you and after watching most the streamers you probably think this game can be played 100% afk and for the most part up to lvl 30 even though max level is 70 but we don't know about later on this game can be played on Astral Hunting now the later you get especially lvl 20+ if you are AFK and not hunting monsters at least 5+ levels below you then you will die. On top of that Astral Hunting will not corectly use your skills for example Fire bolt on Staff can be cast 3 times the 2nd Faster and 3rd Instant but Astral Hunting only casts it 1 time.
No matter what the streamers tell you Astral Hunting is 1000% Slower i Reached lvl 18 in under 5 hours on stream while other streamers playing for 48+ hours were only lvl 20 ish after only using astral hunting. This is a PVP open world Game if you are behind when the game launches and you want to partake into PVP action good luck lmao being lvl 20 while everyone else is lvl 30+
Pay2Win
Its a korean game and honestly am tired of this song and dance what game is not pay2win?? Argubaly WOW is the most pay to win spend $1000 on gold every 6 months BOOM you can get a raid group to BOOST you for The BEST GEAR in the game repeat in 6 months this is genuanly how some people will play world of warcraft. There will be pay2win from what we seen there is Growth pass, Battle Pass then a Battle pass part 2?!?! I would like to say its Korean? But you can Pay2Win in WOW, BDO, Albion, Runescape and there not all korean it just depends on your own standards but so far in the shop other then the battle passes there really is not anything too pay 2 win especially the market place you could argue yes you can buy gear from market place directly but so can a free to play player all they got to do is sell the items on market and they get pay 2 win currency so realisiticly this actually a really fair system.
Honestly there so much i have not even discovered and so much i want to share with you that i have learned across my first 6 hours but lets be real most of you won't read this thread or care about the game outside of bad misinformed YouTubers & Streamers talking about the game and your going to miss out on potentially one of the greatest Oldschool Style MMORPGS ever invented.
Thank you for reading if you got this far the Amazon Beta will be announced on June 8th.
submitted by YoutubeSGSAMI to MMORPG [link] [comments]
Don't ask me what it cost to get into the beta because it cost way to much then i am willing to admit so lets talk about the good the bad and the streamers got it wrong stuff.
The Good:
Optimization OH MY GOD what else is there to say in the clip below you can see my stream highlight. Am standing on a pretty open ledge seeing the world down below playing on MAX OUT graphics 100% Epic not a SINGLE FRAME LOSS not 1 FRAME was lost i had my capped at 144 and NOT A SINGLE frame was ever lost Optimization in this game is beyond insane not 1 other game company has ever come close to game optimization like this. During events with over 100 people nearby my FPS on EPIC MAXED OUT will not drop below 80 and thats over 100 people on screen! and what else is there to say the game looks amazing. For the record i don't have the best PC on the market right now i have a 3090 with a Ryzen 5900X Cpu and 32GB Ram. so if your rocking a 2060+ you should be able to play on at least High/Med with maxed out settings.
https://www.twitch.tv/sgsamii/clip/StylishSaltyMonkeyKappaWealth-CCR81z89Cebop5v_
^ Clip of the view from stream highlights.
Story/Cinematics
The story and cinematics up to first 6 hours of gameplay is extremly fun and engaging am a very avid MMO Lore fan and honestly when certain events happen no spoilers it really did put a tear in my eye even after seeing it 4 times the music just hits PERFECTLY followed by the very detailed animations on the face and body posture. There are story cinematics, Movie Cinematics, and Stop motion animated picture cinematics and ingame engine cinematics there are so many cinematics in this game and i honestly love the lore so far.
World Events
The best MMO with world events for me has been Guild Wars 2 no other MMO has ever given me that itch until today Throne and Liberty has some of the best world events both PVE and PVP (tho mainly i tried the PVP) World Events basically entire Zones once every 2 hours different zones a world event occours for example wolf tails you kill wolfs collect tails and deposit easy reward. People can attack you and steal your tails so be careful. These events are fun but fun really only comes from rewards without rewards its just brainless repetition. The Rewards are by far the most important rewards in the game in the form of Paper you use paper to craft all of your skills No papper No skills. I grouped up with 3-4 people and we were gaming we placed top 5 and all of us got some paper!
Crafting
Similar to Albion & Runescape all items are player crafted. The only exception as far as i can tell is Green/Blue that can drop from monsters everything else especially Purple drops as a craftible materiel you need to spend extra recourses to make. Crafting actually goes very in depth in this game not only items but as mentioned earlier skills are also craftible this game WILL NOT GIVE YOU SKILLS so if your lvl 20 and wondering when your getting your first skill? you Wont you have to go craft it and you can even do that as low as lvl 5 you just need paper.
Bosses
World Bosses aside that turn into loot pineata like every other MMORPG TL goes a step ahead and fixes this problem the same world bosses will appear as solo 1v1 world bosses the player can challange for massive XP and Gold you can rechallenge but the XP/Gold get MUCH lower. if you wanted to have fun with friends you can! THE SAME WORLD bosses will drop BETTER loot if done as a Guild RAID. it sounds exactly as it sounds the same world bossess and much more can be done in a guild group only your guild has to work together to take them down.
Guld System
By far the most advanced Guild system i have ever seen in my life END GAME LOOT is directly obtainable through the guild system from bosses to other aspect of the game. You also have a guild house that can be upgraded to add more layers and layers the guild house can be visted by all guild members there is even a private guild dueling arena inside the house. You can also directly declare war with other guilds this will turn to open world pvp anywhere you are for the avid PVP fans.
Skills
I mentioned you need paper to craft skills but then you can upgrade each skill each skill has 5 upgrades and then a Rare, Epic and LEGENDARY upgrade effect. this is not trivila this is a WHOLE NEW SKILL your entire skill will change in some cases from basic > Legendary for example the legendary skill on 1 of the skills allows you to recast if the skill crits INFININETLY.
Exploration
This game world is like nothing you seen before there are clues hidden everywhere a random shipwreck? oh there a letter hiddin in the cabin? oh it tells you to find the hidden treasure BIG LOOT. i have honestly never played a game that prioritizes exploration to this level TL has surprised me at every step.
Enhancing
This is by far the best enhancement system in any game i have ever seen at least UP TO BLUE and purple but not 100% confirmed THERE IS NO FAILURE you will always 100% Succeed when enhancing BUT you have chances to succeed BETTER and with Higher percentages when upgrading gear. So yes you will not fail but you only got 5% or 1% when you need 100% instead of getting 40% on a 10% chance. this might be the dopamine hitting but NEVER failing ALWAYS succeeding really does feel much better.
The Cons OH BOY.
Combat
This has been mentioned a lot so lets talk the combat will feel like Runescape in unreal engine 5 an updated version of Runescape 3 into a brand new world and a new engine so if your coming from black desert this is not the game for you. However i will admit Melee combat needs to be changed you should be able to move while auto attacking as Melee its far to much of a disadvantage to not be able too. If your Into Lineage & Runescape like me with over 50,000 hours across 17 years on Runescape you will enjoy the combat at least i did. The skills combo into each other really well but yes there is "clunkyness" now this VERY WELL COULD be because of the 300+ ping every streamer is playing on and the beta server is holding over 15,000 players on 1 server but at the end of the day its not game breaking if your use to it. There are YouTubers for example "ForceGaming" Claiming there are not that many movement skills as a Melee this is wrong your first Skill you learn starting the game is a dash with the 2H Sword and your first big skill on daggers is Shadowstep. and they are on a very short cooldown.
Auto Combat (Astral Hunting)
This is an instant turn of for most of you and after watching most the streamers you probably think this game can be played 100% afk and for the most part up to lvl 30 even though max level is 70 but we don't know about later on this game can be played on Astral Hunting now the later you get especially lvl 20+ if you are AFK and not hunting monsters at least 5+ levels below you then you will die. On top of that Astral Hunting will not corectly use your skills for example Fire bolt on Staff can be cast 3 times the 2nd Faster and 3rd Instant but Astral Hunting only casts it 1 time.
No matter what the streamers tell you Astral Hunting is 1000% Slower i Reached lvl 18 in under 5 hours on stream while other streamers playing for 48+ hours were only lvl 20 ish after only using astral hunting. This is a PVP open world Game if you are behind when the game launches and you want to partake into PVP action good luck lmao being lvl 20 while everyone else is lvl 30+
Pay2Win
Its a korean game and honestly am tired of this song and dance what game is not pay2win?? Argubaly WOW is the most pay to win spend $1000 on gold every 6 months BOOM you can get a raid group to BOOST you for The BEST GEAR in the game repeat in 6 months this is genuanly how some people will play world of warcraft. There will be pay2win from what we seen there is Growth pass, Battle Pass then a Battle pass part 2?!?! I would like to say its Korean? But you can Pay2Win in WOW, BDO, Albion, Runescape and there not all korean it just depends on your own standards but so far in the shop other then the battle passes there really is not anything too pay 2 win especially the market place you could argue yes you can buy gear from market place directly but so can a free to play player all they got to do is sell the items on market and they get pay 2 win currency so realisiticly this actually a really fair system.
Honestly there so much i have not even discovered and so much i want to share with you that i have learned across my first 6 hours but lets be real most of you won't read this thread or care about the game outside of bad misinformed YouTubers & Streamers talking about the game and your going to miss out on potentially one of the greatest Oldschool Style MMORPGS ever invented.
Thank you for reading if you got this far the Amazon Beta will be announced on June 8th.
2023.05.29 02:05 ZeroCentsMade Through the Looking Glass, and What the Doctor Found, and Lost, There – Inferno Review
This post is part of a series of reviews. To see them all, click here.
Inferno starts like a very typical story of this era. The Doctor's been acting as observer at some sort of drilling operation, and is using their nuclear reactor to power his attempts to get the TARDIS working again, when some murders happen and the Brigadier joins the Doctor to investigate. As it so happens, the drilling operation has unleashed some sort of primeval forces turning people who come into contact with some green goop into monsters. Meanwhile the director of the project is a pain in the ass, and…oh god this is basically just a worse Fury from the Deep.
But then…well you know what happens. The Doctor's experiments with the TARDIS console send him sideways through time, he goes to a parallel world where the UK is a fascist state and all of a sudden things get really, really good.
I don't want to sound like before the parallel universe stuff gets introduced Inferno was shaping up to be a bad story. Rather, up to that point, it was following the "base under siege" playbook to a letter, and by this point I've grown somewhat tired of the tropes of that formula. Fortunately, we're going to be moving away from the format for some time, and in the meantime Inferno uses the familiarity of the format to its advantage.
By taking the Doctor into an alternate universe, we get to see what a worst case scenario of one of these stories looks like. A version of events where things don't just work out, but continually get worse and worse until an entire world is consumed by lava. It's all deeply tragic.
But here's the rub. If you're an American sci-fi fan like me, you're probably familiar with the Star Trek episode "Mirror, Mirror" a great episode that does something very similar by sending Captain Kirk to an alternate universe where the crew of the Enterprise are all evil. But Inferno's alternate universe characters aren't evil counterparts. Instead what it does, and I think I prefer this approach, is that it imagines what its characters would be if they lived in this alternate world.
Taking the Brigadier, or to give his rank in the alternate universe, the Brigade Leader, as an example. At first glance he seems very different from his main universe counterpart. He's a bully, and an eager servant of a fascist state. There's no way our Brigadier would be like that. But imagine if Alistair Gordon Lethbridge-Stewart had grown up in this world.
See, the main characteristic that defines the Brigadier is his sense of duty. His duty to UNIT, and in a wider sense to the world. He can even be a bit of a bully, as we see in this story when the Brigadier gets Benton to physically drag Stahlman away from his work. Given Stahlman's behavoir he was right to do so mind, and generally his more aggressive and blustery tendencies are constrained by his strong moral sense. But imagine for a second if he existed in a world that did not allow him to succeed with that moral sense intact. What you're left with is the Brigade Leader.
Of course, the Brigade Leader has a bit of a breakdown as he comes to accept that his world is doomed. This story has what is probably Nicholas Courtney's best performance on Doctor Who as in episodes 5 and 6 we see the Brigade Leader slowly lose control. The Brigade Leader tries to take control anyway he can, at one point actually pulling the trigger on Sutton…but he's used up all the bullets in his gun. What this is, is the bottom being pulled out from under a man. The thing, the supposed "republic" that he has devoted his life to is about to die, like the rest of his world, and he just can't deal with the scope of that. His final act is trying to force the Doctor to take the parallel universe characters to his universe, something which the Doctor says will unravel time and space in all universes.
Thing is, the differences between the two Lethbridge-Stewarts is probably the most extreme. Consider the difference between our familiar Liz Shaw, and her counterpart Section Leader Elizabeth Shaw. Initially, she seems remarkably different. She's a soldier, not a scientist. Like the Brigade Leader she is a servant of that aforementioned fascist state, and puts the Doctor through a pretty harsh interrogation.
And yet, think about Liz as we know her. She's intelligent, sardonic, and skeptical. All of those personality traits are preserved with the Section Leader. And as we learn later, she did consider a path of the scientist, but in this world a military role must have seemed more attractive. And yet, like Liz, she doesn't consider herself a simple cog in the military machine. Just as Liz is willing to defy the Brigadier when she thinks it appropriate, we see early on that Elizabeth is willing to challenge the Brigade Leader when she feels it appropriate.
After it becomes clear that the alternate Earth cannot be saved, Elizabeth seems to manage to deal with the horror of what's happening better than most, possibly because she has her rationalist attitude and scientific understanding to help her accept it. And unlike the Brigade Leader she seems to understand the value in fighting for the greater good of saving the Doctor's world.
Other characters are a bit more similar in both universes, which makes sense from a writing perspective, given that we know so much less about them. The exception is Benton, who is Lethbridge-Stewart's loyal man in both universes, which naturally leads to a lot of differences between how the two characters come across.
Otherwise though, we should talk about the couple of Petra Williams and Greg Sutton. In both universes Petra is Stahlman's loyal assistant, though in the alternate universe she seems to have achieved a Doctorate she didn't in the main one. Crucially though, she's loyal, but not to a fault. In our universe when things start going south she recognizes the trouble and instantly starts teaming up with Sutton to try to fix the problems, whatever Stahlman thinks. She's a bit less quick to work with Sutton in the alternate universe, but that's mostly because the alternate England's government is so restrictive that she seems to feel more compelled to play by the rules. She still is willing to stick her neck out, especially for Greg Sutton.
And Sutton is basically the same character in both universes. Mind you, he gets off to a pretty rough start, both for me and Petra when he's incredibly patronizing towards her. I think what bothers me about this sexism versus any other we see on the show, is that, typically on Doctor Who of this era sexism is portrayed as an understandable character flaw. Like the Brig can occasionally be a bit sexist, but we're meant to understand that those instances are failings on his part and he's a better person than that. But with Sutton it feels like we're supposed to like him for his witty jokes about Petra being a secretary.
Anyway, once we get past that false start we understand a few things about Sutton. First, he knows what he's talking about. He's brought in as a consultant due to his experience with oil rigs, and while this is not a traditional drilling operation, he still knows enough to know when things are going wrong and often what should be done. Second, he's not afraid to speak his mind, in either universe. This is especially notable in the parallel Earth where it's made very clear that speaking his mind is likely going to get him executed at some point. Third, he is very easily annoyed, which definitely makes point two more apparent.
And yes, Petra and Greg get together in the main universe and were clearly on their way there in the parallel world if not for…you know…the world being consumed by lava. Their relationship mostly works for me, with Greg, especially in the parallel universe trying to bring out her individuality and Petra balancing her feelings with Greg with her loyalty to Stahlman.
And speaking of whom…it's time to talk about Stahlman. Now, if you've been reading along these reviews you're well aware of my frustrations with the obstructive base commander archetype that pervades this era of the Classic Series. You'll most recently have read me complaining about these characters with Dr. Lawrence in Doctor Who and the Silurians being the most recent example. If you haven't been reading along with these reviews…well I've grown increasingly frustrated with the obstructive base commander archetype that pervades this era of the Classic Series. I wouldn't mind it so much except it's a character type that shows up multiple times a season during this period and they seem to get increasingly more frustrating. And Stahlman is a textbook example of this archetype.
I think Stahlman works really well in this story.
Now, to be clear he's still incredibly frustrating to deal with. And in the first two episodes, before the alternate universe stuff gets added in, he's every bit as aggravating as any other iteration of this character type. But, just like Inferno uses our familiarity with the base under siege format to its advantage, by giving us a familiar setting to show two versions of, it does much the same with Stahlman.
The contrast with Stahlman between the two universes has nothing to do with his personality. He's exactly the same obstinate self-important pain in everyone's collective ass in both worlds. Rather, it's his ability to do what he wants to. On the alternate Earth, when Sir Keith Gold goes off to whatever the alternate Earth's equivalent of the ministry is, he dies, and it's heavily implied, though never stated, that Stahlman arranged for his death. In our universe…Stahlman blackmails Sir Keith's driver to drive him on a route away from the complex. Moreover, Sir Keith actually manages to talk the driver out of it. In the alternate universe, a tinpot dictator like Stahlman is able to do basically whatever he wants to get his project working. In our world, he is still constrained to some extent. This matters in the end as Sutton and the Doctor are able to convince the technicians to shut down the drill in a way they weren't in the alternate world.
Mind you I do have a criticism of Stahlman…I don't get his motivation. Now with all past obstructionist base commanders I've at least understood why they behave in the way that they do. For instance Fury From the Deep's Chief Robson, probably Stahlman's closest analogue, doesn't want to stop the working of his oil rigs because he has a perfect record of never shutting down to maintain. This makes him a painfully annoying character to deal with, but it makes sense. Stahlman though…
The drilling operation of Inferno is Stahlman's baby – he's been working on it in one form or another for eleven years. He believes that there are pockets of energy-rich gas accessible just beneath the Earth's crust. Why he believes this is never stated, but we can assume he did some sort of surveying work before setting up this operation. The thing he absolutely doesn't want to get done is slow down. If anyone ever slows down or, heaven forbid, temporarily stops the drilling he throws a fit. But why though? Nobody, not even the Doctor before he makes his little trip to the alternate world, ever suggests permanently stopping the drilling. Just paying attention to danger signs and proceeding more cautiously. This isn't just irrational behavior from a man too invested in his own ego, that I could at least understand.
Now eventually, in both universes, Stahlman is infected by the green goop that turns people into monsters. Because he got very little of it on him the process is a lot slower, and it's implied that it makes Stahlman more irrational and wanting to speed up even more, as he starts pushing past safety margins. The thing is, there is no discernible change in his personality after he gets infected. It probably would have been better if Stahlman had been a reasonable person, if overambitious and slightly egotistical, before he was infected and his infection had caused him to start acting more irrationally and accelerate the drilling. It would have made his character more bearable as well, though admittedly I think that aspect works somewhat in this story.
We haven't yet talked about the main universe versions of Liz and the Brig. There's not a huge amount to say about either. Liz does show some of her intelligence at times, as well as the close professional and personal relationship she's developed with the Doctor. However, a lot of the time Liz is in the background in this one, in contrast to her alternate universe counterpart. You might think that, with the Doctor missing this would be Liz's time to shine but the truth is we see very little of what is happening in the main universe while the Doctor is away, and what we do see has Liz mostly acting as the Doctor's doctor.
The Brigadier similarly doesn't get a tremendous amount to do, aside from be annoyed at Stahlman (and everybody's annoyed at Stahlman). He does end up showing a lot of grace at the end of the story, but we'll get to that when we talk about the Doctor. The Brig's tendencies to butt heads with Stahlman are, interestingly enough, somewhat reminiscent of his more acrimonious interactions with the Doctor, since the 3rd Doctor can be quite obstinate and self-important in his own right, but that's about all I have to say about the Brig.
And yes, it's time to talk about the Doctor. He ends up getting put through the ringer in this one. The Doctor was already in an ill mood before being sent to a parallel fascist Britain – dealing with Stahlman on a daily basis will do that to a person. And then well…there's the interrogation and implied, though never shown, torture. And in spite of that, the Doctor gets invested in this new world. Maybe it's just that he's that good of a person. Maybe he can tell that these people are closer to the versions he knows than it initially appears. Whatever happens, he cares about what happens next.
What happens next is, of course, the destruction of their entire world. It's obviously horrifying. There's nothing that can be done. The portion of the story that has the Doctor in the parallel world is four episodes – episodes 3-6 – and episodes five and six occur after the point of no return. And the Doctor has to work with these people, people he knows will die, must die. I'm sitting here, trying to find the words to describe the mix of terror, futility and somberness that those two episodes convey, and I cannot find the words. It's brilliant television, and it is utterly devastating.
So naturally when the Doctor returns to the main universe, he's a little unbalanced. First he spends a few hours passed out, just managing to mumble some key information for Liz to pass on. However when he wakes up, he unfortunately makes the call to destroy the console that controls the drill with a wrench. Was it the right approach? Absolutely not, but it absolutely makes sense, given what the Doctor's been through.
On the other hand, I did not care for how this story ended. The Doctor, thinking he's got the TARDIS console working again, gives a tender, and quite sweet, goodbye to Liz and then…hits the Brig with a barrage of insults. Maybe this would feel more earned if the Brigadier and the Doctor's relationship were more difficult, but the truth is, outside of The Silurians they've managed to get along reasonably well, albeit with some friction. Hell, even if The Silurians had lead to more prolonged animosity between the two it might feel earned, but the fact is they seemed to patch things up during The Ambassadors of Death. As such the Doctor just comes off as kind of an asshole.
Now, it's commonly believed that the parallel universe plot was a late addition in order to fill out 7 episodes, but this appears to be incorrect, as the original outline included the parallel universe plot. The origin of this claim comes from Terrance Dicks, who must have misremembered. On the other hand, the monsters (called Primords in the credits but nowhere in the story proper) were a late addition to the script. They were not in early drafts, but Producer Barry Letts and Script Editor Terrance Dicks felt the story needed some kind of monster.
I'm kind of two minds about the addition of the Primords. On one hand, objectively, they are given basically no explanation. Why does the green goop flowing out of one of the output pipes cause people to turn into heat-loving monsters? No clue. On the other hand, I have difficulty imagining the story working as well as it does without some sort of active threat, especially at it's seven episodes long. Episode 6 in particular basically relies on the Primords to form some form of barrier against what would otherwise have been a fairly straightforward task.
Still, I will say that the Primords look really good in this story. In fact everything looks good. The Primords themselves have distinctive green skin and seem to grow extra hair. But also, there's just a number of alterations to the appearance various cast members (to account for alternate universe versions) that all look good. The one exception is Elizabeth Shaw's wig which is so obviously a wig, but everyone else looks great.
Inferno is an excellent story. Its unique premise takes what initially feels like a very familiar setting and turns it into something special. The destruction of the alternate Earth is genuinely one of the most horrifying things that Doctor Who has ever shown, even if just in part. And that makes the relief at managing to save the main Earth all the more potent.
Score: 9/10
submitted by ZeroCentsMade to gallifrey [link] [comments]
Serial Information
- Episodes: Season 7, Episodes 19-25
- Airdates: 9th May - 20th June 1970
- Doctor: 3rd
- Companion: Liz
- UNIT: The Brigadier, Sgt. Benton
- Writer: Don Houghton
- Directors: Douglas Camfield, Barry Letts (Uncredited)
- Producer: Barry Letts
- Script Editor: Terrance Dicks
Review
Proper little bureaucrat, aren't you? Can't shoot me unless you've filled out all the forms, is that it? – The Doctor, to the Brigade LeaderInferno starts like a very typical story of this era. The Doctor's been acting as observer at some sort of drilling operation, and is using their nuclear reactor to power his attempts to get the TARDIS working again, when some murders happen and the Brigadier joins the Doctor to investigate. As it so happens, the drilling operation has unleashed some sort of primeval forces turning people who come into contact with some green goop into monsters. Meanwhile the director of the project is a pain in the ass, and…oh god this is basically just a worse Fury from the Deep.
But then…well you know what happens. The Doctor's experiments with the TARDIS console send him sideways through time, he goes to a parallel world where the UK is a fascist state and all of a sudden things get really, really good.
I don't want to sound like before the parallel universe stuff gets introduced Inferno was shaping up to be a bad story. Rather, up to that point, it was following the "base under siege" playbook to a letter, and by this point I've grown somewhat tired of the tropes of that formula. Fortunately, we're going to be moving away from the format for some time, and in the meantime Inferno uses the familiarity of the format to its advantage.
By taking the Doctor into an alternate universe, we get to see what a worst case scenario of one of these stories looks like. A version of events where things don't just work out, but continually get worse and worse until an entire world is consumed by lava. It's all deeply tragic.
But here's the rub. If you're an American sci-fi fan like me, you're probably familiar with the Star Trek episode "Mirror, Mirror" a great episode that does something very similar by sending Captain Kirk to an alternate universe where the crew of the Enterprise are all evil. But Inferno's alternate universe characters aren't evil counterparts. Instead what it does, and I think I prefer this approach, is that it imagines what its characters would be if they lived in this alternate world.
Taking the Brigadier, or to give his rank in the alternate universe, the Brigade Leader, as an example. At first glance he seems very different from his main universe counterpart. He's a bully, and an eager servant of a fascist state. There's no way our Brigadier would be like that. But imagine if Alistair Gordon Lethbridge-Stewart had grown up in this world.
See, the main characteristic that defines the Brigadier is his sense of duty. His duty to UNIT, and in a wider sense to the world. He can even be a bit of a bully, as we see in this story when the Brigadier gets Benton to physically drag Stahlman away from his work. Given Stahlman's behavoir he was right to do so mind, and generally his more aggressive and blustery tendencies are constrained by his strong moral sense. But imagine for a second if he existed in a world that did not allow him to succeed with that moral sense intact. What you're left with is the Brigade Leader.
Of course, the Brigade Leader has a bit of a breakdown as he comes to accept that his world is doomed. This story has what is probably Nicholas Courtney's best performance on Doctor Who as in episodes 5 and 6 we see the Brigade Leader slowly lose control. The Brigade Leader tries to take control anyway he can, at one point actually pulling the trigger on Sutton…but he's used up all the bullets in his gun. What this is, is the bottom being pulled out from under a man. The thing, the supposed "republic" that he has devoted his life to is about to die, like the rest of his world, and he just can't deal with the scope of that. His final act is trying to force the Doctor to take the parallel universe characters to his universe, something which the Doctor says will unravel time and space in all universes.
Thing is, the differences between the two Lethbridge-Stewarts is probably the most extreme. Consider the difference between our familiar Liz Shaw, and her counterpart Section Leader Elizabeth Shaw. Initially, she seems remarkably different. She's a soldier, not a scientist. Like the Brigade Leader she is a servant of that aforementioned fascist state, and puts the Doctor through a pretty harsh interrogation.
And yet, think about Liz as we know her. She's intelligent, sardonic, and skeptical. All of those personality traits are preserved with the Section Leader. And as we learn later, she did consider a path of the scientist, but in this world a military role must have seemed more attractive. And yet, like Liz, she doesn't consider herself a simple cog in the military machine. Just as Liz is willing to defy the Brigadier when she thinks it appropriate, we see early on that Elizabeth is willing to challenge the Brigade Leader when she feels it appropriate.
After it becomes clear that the alternate Earth cannot be saved, Elizabeth seems to manage to deal with the horror of what's happening better than most, possibly because she has her rationalist attitude and scientific understanding to help her accept it. And unlike the Brigade Leader she seems to understand the value in fighting for the greater good of saving the Doctor's world.
Other characters are a bit more similar in both universes, which makes sense from a writing perspective, given that we know so much less about them. The exception is Benton, who is Lethbridge-Stewart's loyal man in both universes, which naturally leads to a lot of differences between how the two characters come across.
Otherwise though, we should talk about the couple of Petra Williams and Greg Sutton. In both universes Petra is Stahlman's loyal assistant, though in the alternate universe she seems to have achieved a Doctorate she didn't in the main one. Crucially though, she's loyal, but not to a fault. In our universe when things start going south she recognizes the trouble and instantly starts teaming up with Sutton to try to fix the problems, whatever Stahlman thinks. She's a bit less quick to work with Sutton in the alternate universe, but that's mostly because the alternate England's government is so restrictive that she seems to feel more compelled to play by the rules. She still is willing to stick her neck out, especially for Greg Sutton.
And Sutton is basically the same character in both universes. Mind you, he gets off to a pretty rough start, both for me and Petra when he's incredibly patronizing towards her. I think what bothers me about this sexism versus any other we see on the show, is that, typically on Doctor Who of this era sexism is portrayed as an understandable character flaw. Like the Brig can occasionally be a bit sexist, but we're meant to understand that those instances are failings on his part and he's a better person than that. But with Sutton it feels like we're supposed to like him for his witty jokes about Petra being a secretary.
Anyway, once we get past that false start we understand a few things about Sutton. First, he knows what he's talking about. He's brought in as a consultant due to his experience with oil rigs, and while this is not a traditional drilling operation, he still knows enough to know when things are going wrong and often what should be done. Second, he's not afraid to speak his mind, in either universe. This is especially notable in the parallel Earth where it's made very clear that speaking his mind is likely going to get him executed at some point. Third, he is very easily annoyed, which definitely makes point two more apparent.
And yes, Petra and Greg get together in the main universe and were clearly on their way there in the parallel world if not for…you know…the world being consumed by lava. Their relationship mostly works for me, with Greg, especially in the parallel universe trying to bring out her individuality and Petra balancing her feelings with Greg with her loyalty to Stahlman.
And speaking of whom…it's time to talk about Stahlman. Now, if you've been reading along these reviews you're well aware of my frustrations with the obstructive base commander archetype that pervades this era of the Classic Series. You'll most recently have read me complaining about these characters with Dr. Lawrence in Doctor Who and the Silurians being the most recent example. If you haven't been reading along with these reviews…well I've grown increasingly frustrated with the obstructive base commander archetype that pervades this era of the Classic Series. I wouldn't mind it so much except it's a character type that shows up multiple times a season during this period and they seem to get increasingly more frustrating. And Stahlman is a textbook example of this archetype.
I think Stahlman works really well in this story.
Now, to be clear he's still incredibly frustrating to deal with. And in the first two episodes, before the alternate universe stuff gets added in, he's every bit as aggravating as any other iteration of this character type. But, just like Inferno uses our familiarity with the base under siege format to its advantage, by giving us a familiar setting to show two versions of, it does much the same with Stahlman.
The contrast with Stahlman between the two universes has nothing to do with his personality. He's exactly the same obstinate self-important pain in everyone's collective ass in both worlds. Rather, it's his ability to do what he wants to. On the alternate Earth, when Sir Keith Gold goes off to whatever the alternate Earth's equivalent of the ministry is, he dies, and it's heavily implied, though never stated, that Stahlman arranged for his death. In our universe…Stahlman blackmails Sir Keith's driver to drive him on a route away from the complex. Moreover, Sir Keith actually manages to talk the driver out of it. In the alternate universe, a tinpot dictator like Stahlman is able to do basically whatever he wants to get his project working. In our world, he is still constrained to some extent. This matters in the end as Sutton and the Doctor are able to convince the technicians to shut down the drill in a way they weren't in the alternate world.
Mind you I do have a criticism of Stahlman…I don't get his motivation. Now with all past obstructionist base commanders I've at least understood why they behave in the way that they do. For instance Fury From the Deep's Chief Robson, probably Stahlman's closest analogue, doesn't want to stop the working of his oil rigs because he has a perfect record of never shutting down to maintain. This makes him a painfully annoying character to deal with, but it makes sense. Stahlman though…
The drilling operation of Inferno is Stahlman's baby – he's been working on it in one form or another for eleven years. He believes that there are pockets of energy-rich gas accessible just beneath the Earth's crust. Why he believes this is never stated, but we can assume he did some sort of surveying work before setting up this operation. The thing he absolutely doesn't want to get done is slow down. If anyone ever slows down or, heaven forbid, temporarily stops the drilling he throws a fit. But why though? Nobody, not even the Doctor before he makes his little trip to the alternate world, ever suggests permanently stopping the drilling. Just paying attention to danger signs and proceeding more cautiously. This isn't just irrational behavior from a man too invested in his own ego, that I could at least understand.
Now eventually, in both universes, Stahlman is infected by the green goop that turns people into monsters. Because he got very little of it on him the process is a lot slower, and it's implied that it makes Stahlman more irrational and wanting to speed up even more, as he starts pushing past safety margins. The thing is, there is no discernible change in his personality after he gets infected. It probably would have been better if Stahlman had been a reasonable person, if overambitious and slightly egotistical, before he was infected and his infection had caused him to start acting more irrationally and accelerate the drilling. It would have made his character more bearable as well, though admittedly I think that aspect works somewhat in this story.
We haven't yet talked about the main universe versions of Liz and the Brig. There's not a huge amount to say about either. Liz does show some of her intelligence at times, as well as the close professional and personal relationship she's developed with the Doctor. However, a lot of the time Liz is in the background in this one, in contrast to her alternate universe counterpart. You might think that, with the Doctor missing this would be Liz's time to shine but the truth is we see very little of what is happening in the main universe while the Doctor is away, and what we do see has Liz mostly acting as the Doctor's doctor.
The Brigadier similarly doesn't get a tremendous amount to do, aside from be annoyed at Stahlman (and everybody's annoyed at Stahlman). He does end up showing a lot of grace at the end of the story, but we'll get to that when we talk about the Doctor. The Brig's tendencies to butt heads with Stahlman are, interestingly enough, somewhat reminiscent of his more acrimonious interactions with the Doctor, since the 3rd Doctor can be quite obstinate and self-important in his own right, but that's about all I have to say about the Brig.
And yes, it's time to talk about the Doctor. He ends up getting put through the ringer in this one. The Doctor was already in an ill mood before being sent to a parallel fascist Britain – dealing with Stahlman on a daily basis will do that to a person. And then well…there's the interrogation and implied, though never shown, torture. And in spite of that, the Doctor gets invested in this new world. Maybe it's just that he's that good of a person. Maybe he can tell that these people are closer to the versions he knows than it initially appears. Whatever happens, he cares about what happens next.
What happens next is, of course, the destruction of their entire world. It's obviously horrifying. There's nothing that can be done. The portion of the story that has the Doctor in the parallel world is four episodes – episodes 3-6 – and episodes five and six occur after the point of no return. And the Doctor has to work with these people, people he knows will die, must die. I'm sitting here, trying to find the words to describe the mix of terror, futility and somberness that those two episodes convey, and I cannot find the words. It's brilliant television, and it is utterly devastating.
So naturally when the Doctor returns to the main universe, he's a little unbalanced. First he spends a few hours passed out, just managing to mumble some key information for Liz to pass on. However when he wakes up, he unfortunately makes the call to destroy the console that controls the drill with a wrench. Was it the right approach? Absolutely not, but it absolutely makes sense, given what the Doctor's been through.
On the other hand, I did not care for how this story ended. The Doctor, thinking he's got the TARDIS console working again, gives a tender, and quite sweet, goodbye to Liz and then…hits the Brig with a barrage of insults. Maybe this would feel more earned if the Brigadier and the Doctor's relationship were more difficult, but the truth is, outside of The Silurians they've managed to get along reasonably well, albeit with some friction. Hell, even if The Silurians had lead to more prolonged animosity between the two it might feel earned, but the fact is they seemed to patch things up during The Ambassadors of Death. As such the Doctor just comes off as kind of an asshole.
Now, it's commonly believed that the parallel universe plot was a late addition in order to fill out 7 episodes, but this appears to be incorrect, as the original outline included the parallel universe plot. The origin of this claim comes from Terrance Dicks, who must have misremembered. On the other hand, the monsters (called Primords in the credits but nowhere in the story proper) were a late addition to the script. They were not in early drafts, but Producer Barry Letts and Script Editor Terrance Dicks felt the story needed some kind of monster.
I'm kind of two minds about the addition of the Primords. On one hand, objectively, they are given basically no explanation. Why does the green goop flowing out of one of the output pipes cause people to turn into heat-loving monsters? No clue. On the other hand, I have difficulty imagining the story working as well as it does without some sort of active threat, especially at it's seven episodes long. Episode 6 in particular basically relies on the Primords to form some form of barrier against what would otherwise have been a fairly straightforward task.
Still, I will say that the Primords look really good in this story. In fact everything looks good. The Primords themselves have distinctive green skin and seem to grow extra hair. But also, there's just a number of alterations to the appearance various cast members (to account for alternate universe versions) that all look good. The one exception is Elizabeth Shaw's wig which is so obviously a wig, but everyone else looks great.
Inferno is an excellent story. Its unique premise takes what initially feels like a very familiar setting and turns it into something special. The destruction of the alternate Earth is genuinely one of the most horrifying things that Doctor Who has ever shown, even if just in part. And that makes the relief at managing to save the main Earth all the more potent.
Score: 9/10
Stray Observations
- This was the first story that Barry Letts commissioned as producer. All prior stories in Season 7 were commissioned by previous producer Derrick Sherwin before his departure.
- Sheila Dunn, Director Douglas Camfield's wife, played Petra, but she wasn't the original choice. Originally, Camfield wanted to cast Kate O'Mara, who Doctor Who fans will remember better as 80's villain The Rani.
- Caroline John preferred playing the "evil" version of Liz over the original.
- There's a famous story that Nicholas Courtney liked to tell. When he shot the scene of Brigade Leader Lethbridge-Stewart swiveling around in his chair to reveal his eyepatch, he swiveled around to see that the entire cast and crew were also wearing eypatches.
- This was the final story to use the original TARDIS console prop. It was falling apart at this point, and after this story the decision was made that it would have to be retired. A new one was of course constructed for the next time they would need it.
- This was both Nicholas Courtney and Caroline John's favorite story.
- Director Douglas Camfield had a hard time of it on this serial. He got into arguments with both Jon Pertwee and Caroline John. This escalated until he collapsed, whereupon his wife (who, remember was playing Petra) revealed he'd been working while suffering from a heart murmur, causing Barry Letts to take if off the serial. Because Camfield had completed most of the prep work, Letts decided that he would direct the final five episodes himself, though Camfield received the sole director's credit for all seven.
- This story has a bespoke title sequence, the last of the Classic Series. It features shots of lava, with the story title and writer's name coming into focus in white text. It's a really good one, nice way for this particular little quirk of the early Classic Series that goes back to The War Machines to come to an end. I particularly like how the spiral at the end of the 3rd Doctor title seems to transition into the lava, I'm sure it wasn't planned, but it's a really cool effect nonetheless. The volcano footage had been used previously in Doctor Who, in The Enemy of the World.
- In this story the Doctor uses the Sonic Screwdriver as, as he likes to put it, a "door handle". More specifically, he uses it to open the gate the hut he's running his experiments out of.
- According to the Doctor something similar to the events of this story happened at Krakatoa, though it would seem that no Primords were created in that instance.
- In episode 2, the Doctor performs a kind of nerve pinch he calls Venusian…Karate. This was, of course, eventually changed to Venusian Aikido, in order to use a more defensive martial art.
- Okay, I get why the Doctor was shot off into the parallel universe, but why Bessie?
- The Section Leader version of Shaw is initially shot from the back so that we don't recognize her. It helps that her hair is a different color.
- When the Doctor claims he doesn't exist in the parallel universe, the Brigade Leader responds with "then you won't feel the bullets when we shoot you."
- The technicians at the parallel universe facility all wear name tags on their uniforms, which is useful to the audience when they all start turning into monsters, but makes you wonder why they're there in the first place. It does make a bit more sense than when a similar thing was done in The Power of the Daleks.
- To indicate a change in dimension we use a rather odd whirring sound effect combined with a light show that looks a bit like a sped up disco ball. It does the job.
- One of the more surprisingly effective moments in this story is when, in episode 5, we see Platoon Underleader Benton drilling his men. By this point in the story we know that the alternate Earth is doomed, and therefore Benton there's no point.
- Alternate Benton getting turned into a Primord is actually kind of fitting when you remember that John Levene started out by playing monsters, including a Yeti back in The Web of Fear
- It takes nearly 20 minutes in episode 5 for use to go to the main universe. Even then it's just to check in on Sir Keith, and after that scene we never go to that universe again until the next episode.
- A lot of the dialogue in episode 7 is repeated dialogue from bits set in the alternate universe, which makes sense when you remember that the alternate universe was supposedly running slightly ahead of the main one.
2023.05.29 02:01 Lee_Akira [USA-TX] [H] Pokémon Emerald, Pokémon SoulSilver, P.N.03, Switch Lite, Switch Games, PS4/PS5 games [W] My wanted list, Your List, Pokémon Switch Systems, Nintendo Switch OLED system (White), Nintendo 2DS xl Hylian Shield
Stuff I’m looking for:
Nintendo Switch Editions (Lites/RegulaOLED), Final Fantasy Pixel Remaster (PS4/Switch), Fire Emblem Three Houses Seasons of Warfare Edition, Legend of Zelda Breath of the Wild Special Edition, Momodora Reverie Under the Moonlight Limited Edition, Langrisser I&II Limited Edition, Fire Emblem Fates Special Edition , GameBoy Micro, Pokémon LeafGreen, Pokémon FireRed, Castlevania Order of Ecclesia, Steam Deck, Nintendo ‘new’ 2DS xl, Nintendo DSi, Atelier Dusk Trilogy Deluxe Pack, Atelier Mysterious Trilogy Deluxe Pack, Valkyrie Drive Bhikkhuni Liberators Edition, PSP GO (In excellent condition), Rabi-Ribi Limited Edition (PC big box), I’m also looking for cases/inserts for Pokemon White, Pokémon White 2, Pokémon Black, and the big box with Pokewalker for Pokémon HeartGold (No game needed)
Stuff I have:
submitted by Lee_Akira to gameswap [link] [comments]
Nintendo Switch Editions (Lites/RegulaOLED), Final Fantasy Pixel Remaster (PS4/Switch), Fire Emblem Three Houses Seasons of Warfare Edition, Legend of Zelda Breath of the Wild Special Edition, Momodora Reverie Under the Moonlight Limited Edition, Langrisser I&II Limited Edition, Fire Emblem Fates Special Edition , GameBoy Micro, Pokémon LeafGreen, Pokémon FireRed, Castlevania Order of Ecclesia, Steam Deck, Nintendo ‘new’ 2DS xl, Nintendo DSi, Atelier Dusk Trilogy Deluxe Pack, Atelier Mysterious Trilogy Deluxe Pack, Valkyrie Drive Bhikkhuni Liberators Edition, PSP GO (In excellent condition), Rabi-Ribi Limited Edition (PC big box), I’m also looking for cases/inserts for Pokemon White, Pokémon White 2, Pokémon Black, and the big box with Pokewalker for Pokémon HeartGold (No game needed)
Stuff I have:
- Pokémon Emerald (Loose) (Please note that the sticker is not the original but the game itself is authentic. Dry battery) Pics
- Pokémon SoulSilver (Loose) Pics
- Nintendo Switch Lite (Grey) Pics
- L.A. Noire (Switch) Pics
- Metallic Child (Switch) Pics
- P.N.03 (GC) Pics
- Phantasy Star Online Episode III: C.A.R.D. Revolution (GC) (Loose) (w/manual) Pics
- Playstation 5 DualSense Edge Controller (PS5) (Used - It will come with a 3-year protection plan) Pic Pics
- Wo Long: Fallen Dynasty Steelbook Edition (PS5) (New) Pics
- Code Vein Steelbook (PS4) Pics
- Shining Resonance Refrain Draconic Launch Edition Pics
- Bayonetta & Vanquish Steelbook Edition (PS4) Pics
- Resident Evil 7 (PS4) (EU) Pics
- Street Fighter 30th Anniversary Collection (PS4) (Loose) Pics
- Atelier Ryza 3D crystal Kloudia Pics
- Atomic Heart Metal Art Print & Limited Box Pics
2023.05.29 01:31 rkilo VX or Amex Green? Next travel card dilemma
VX or Amex Green?
So I have a family cruise I’m planning for October (2 adults, 2 kids). It will also include flights, hotel, and rental car.
I’m trying to decide between the Venture X and the Amex Green. I can’t get both at the same time because I can’t generate the spend to hit the bonuses on both. One wouldn’t be an issue though. Here is my rationalization:
AMEX Green: I already have the Delta Plat (03/23) and Gold (05/05) so the Green would only be a soft pull. Only issue is I haven’t even had the Gold for a month so I don’t think Amex will be willing to extend me another card. But the Green’s 3x Travel cat includes Cruises and the DUB right now is historically high and includes 20% on Travel up to $200 in the first six months. We’re also booking through Avelo Airlines because they offer $29 direct fares to our destination. The Green would count this toward the Travel cat. Plus, I could easily use the Clear credit to justify the $150 annual fee.
Venture X: I already have the SavorOne so this would complete the C1 “bifecta”. I used the pre-approval tool and I was pre-approved for the Venture line so that at least helps with confidence as a far as getting approved. The $300 travel credit only applies when travel is booked through the C1 portal. This doesn’t include Avelo (obviously) but we could use it on the hotel or rental car.
I’m torn. I know the VX is a better overall card but having the return on cruises (which we do 3 times a year), plus already running our spend mostly through Amex, that seems like the place to stay.
submitted by rkilo to CreditCards [link] [comments]
- Current credit cards you are the primary account holder of:
- NFCU GoRewards Visa, 10K, 2007
- NFCU GoRewards MC, 15k, 2008
- CFU $5k, 2014
- Apple Card, $10k, 09/2019
- CSP, $9.8k, 04/2019
- CCC, $1.2k, 02/2023
- C1 SavorOne, $8k, 03/2023
- Venmo CC, $3.2k, 02/2023
- BOA Customized Cash, $3k, 02/2023
- BCP, $2.1k, 02/2023
- PayPal MC, $800, 02/2023
- Affinity Cash Rewards, $6.5K, 03/2023
- Delta Plat, $5.1k, 03/2023
- CIU, $5.5K, 03/2023
- Amex Gold, 05/2023
- Discover It, $3k, 05/2023
- FICO Scores: 724 Experian, 714 Equifax, 719 Transunion
- Oldest credit card account age with you as primary name on the account: 16 years
- Number of personal credit cards approved for in the past 6 months: 11
- Number of personal credit cards approved for in the past 12 months: 11
- Number of personal credit cards approved for in the past 24 months: 12
- Annual income $: 100k
- OK with rotating category cards?: Yes
- Estimate average monthly spend in the categories below. Only include what you can pay by credit card.
- * Dining $: 600
- * Groceries $: 1200
- * Gas $: (If at Costco or Walmart, please specify) $300
- * Travel $: 500
- * Do you plan on using this card abroad for a significant length of time (study abroad, digital nomad, expat, extended travel)?: No
- * Any other categories (examples: phone/internet, insurance) or stores (example: Amazon) with significant, regular credit card spend (the more you specify, the better): $1,000
- * Can you pay rent by credit card? If yes, list rent amount and if there's a fee for paying by credit card: No
So I have a family cruise I’m planning for October (2 adults, 2 kids). It will also include flights, hotel, and rental car.
I’m trying to decide between the Venture X and the Amex Green. I can’t get both at the same time because I can’t generate the spend to hit the bonuses on both. One wouldn’t be an issue though. Here is my rationalization:
AMEX Green: I already have the Delta Plat (03/23) and Gold (05/05) so the Green would only be a soft pull. Only issue is I haven’t even had the Gold for a month so I don’t think Amex will be willing to extend me another card. But the Green’s 3x Travel cat includes Cruises and the DUB right now is historically high and includes 20% on Travel up to $200 in the first six months. We’re also booking through Avelo Airlines because they offer $29 direct fares to our destination. The Green would count this toward the Travel cat. Plus, I could easily use the Clear credit to justify the $150 annual fee.
Venture X: I already have the SavorOne so this would complete the C1 “bifecta”. I used the pre-approval tool and I was pre-approved for the Venture line so that at least helps with confidence as a far as getting approved. The $300 travel credit only applies when travel is booked through the C1 portal. This doesn’t include Avelo (obviously) but we could use it on the hotel or rental car.
I’m torn. I know the VX is a better overall card but having the return on cruises (which we do 3 times a year), plus already running our spend mostly through Amex, that seems like the place to stay.
2023.05.29 01:25 Dry-Fee9923 Thoughts on the og mc?
 | submitted by Dry-Fee9923 to rap [link] [comments] |
2023.05.29 01:08 _Triple_ [STORE] 900+ KNIVES/GLOVES/SKINS, 50.000$+ INVENTORY. M9 Fade, M4 Poseidon, BFK Freehand, Crimson Kimono, Nomad Fade, Skeleton, Kara Lore, Bayo Autotronic, AWP Fade, Kara Damas, BFK Ultra, Kara Freehand, Kara Bright, M9 Damas, Omega, Tiger Strike, Flip MF, Bayo Tiger, Deagle Blaze, Talon & More
Everything in my inventory is up for trade. The most valuable items are listed here, the rest you can find in My Inventory
Feel free to Add Me or even better send a Trade Offer. Open for any suggestions: upgrades, downgrades / knives, gloves, skins / stickers, patterns, floats.
All Buyouts are listed in cash value.
KNIVES
★ Butterfly Knife Freehand FN #1, B/O: $2500
★ Butterfly Knife Ultraviolet FT, B/O: $822
★ Butterfly Knife Scorched FT, B/O: $616
⎯★ Bayonet Tiger Tooth MW #1, B/O: $1300
★ Bayonet Autotronic FN, B/O: $1050
★ Bayonet Tiger Tooth MW, B/O: $629
★ Bayonet Bright Water FT, B/O: $326
★ Bayonet Safari Mesh BS, B/O: $233
⎯★ Karambit Lore FT, B/O: $1110
★ Karambit Damascus Steel FT, B/O: $840
★ Karambit Freehand MW, B/O: $784
★ Karambit Bright Water MW, B/O: $759
⎯★ M9 Bayonet Fade FN, B/O: $1801
★ M9 Bayonet Fade FN, B/O: $1801
★ M9 Bayonet Damascus Steel FN, B/O: $751
⎯★ Nomad Knife Fade FN, B/O: $1156
★ Nomad Knife Slaughter MW, B/O: $544
★ Nomad Knife Blue Steel WW, B/O: $318
⎯★ Flip Knife Marble Fade FN, B/O: $646
★ Flip Knife Doppler (Phase 4) FN, B/O: $574
★ Flip Knife Gamma Doppler (Phase 1) MW, B/O: $552
★ Flip Knife Case Hardened FT, B/O: $257
★ Flip Knife Freehand FT, B/O: $255
★ StatTrak™ Flip Knife Bright Water FN, B/O: $287
⎯★ Huntsman Knife Lore FN, B/O: $461
★ Huntsman Knife Gamma Doppler (Phase 4) FN, B/O: $436
★ Huntsman Knife Doppler (Phase 3) FN, B/O: $353
★ Huntsman Knife Autotronic FT, B/O: $212
★ Huntsman Knife Bright Water FT, B/O: $129
★ Huntsman Knife Forest DDPAT MW, B/O: $129
★ Huntsman Knife Forest DDPAT BS, B/O: $123
★ StatTrak™ Huntsman Knife Rust Coat BS, B/O: $127
⎯★ Bowie Knife Gamma Doppler (Phase 2) FN, B/O: $375
★ Bowie Knife Gamma Doppler (Phase 1) FN, B/O: $363
★ Bowie Knife Tiger Tooth FN, B/O: $269
★ Bowie Knife Crimson Web WW, B/O: $192
★ Bowie Knife Bright Water FN, B/O: $159
★ Bowie Knife Ultraviolet FT, B/O: $126
⎯★ Stiletto Knife Slaughter FN, B/O: $616
★ Stiletto Knife Crimson Web FT, B/O: $412
★ StatTrak™ Stiletto Knife Night Stripe FT, B/O: $227
⎯★ Falchion Knife Lore FT, B/O: $214
★ Falchion Knife Autotronic FT, B/O: $192
★ Falchion Knife Scorched WW, B/O: $105
⎯★ Survival Knife Crimson Web BS, B/O: $216
★ Survival Knife Case Hardened FT, B/O: $198
★ Survival Knife Scorched FT, B/O: $111
⎯★ Shadow Daggers Fade FN, B/O: $368
★ Shadow Daggers Doppler (Phase 3) FN, B/O: $228
★ Shadow Daggers, B/O: $201
★ Shadow Daggers Damascus Steel FT, B/O: $108
★ Shadow Daggers Ultraviolet FT, B/O: $105
★ Shadow Daggers Black Laminate FT, B/O: $99
★ Shadow Daggers Forest DDPAT FT, B/O: $85
⎯★ Gut Knife Doppler (Sapphire) MW #1, B/O: $1700
★ Gut Knife Gamma Doppler (Phase 1) FN, B/O: $223
★ Gut Knife Marble Fade FN, B/O: $203
★ Gut Knife Doppler (Phase 2) FN, B/O: $191
★ Gut Knife Case Hardened BS, B/O: $127
⎯★ Navaja Knife Doppler (Phase 4) FN, B/O: $199
★ Navaja Knife Doppler (Phase 4) FN, B/O: $199
★ Navaja Knife, B/O: $138
★ Navaja Knife Damascus Steel FN, B/O: $111
⎯★ Classic Knife Urban Masked FT, B/O: $146
★ StatTrak™ Classic Knife Stained BS, B/O: $168
⎯★ Ursus Knife Doppler (Phase 3) FN, B/O: $476
★ Ursus Knife, B/O: $375
⎯★ Skeleton Knife, B/O: $1137
★ Talon Knife, B/O: $608
★ Paracord Knife, B/O: $305
★ Survival Knife Forest DDPAT FT, B/O: $97
GLOVES
★ Moto Gloves Transport MW, B/O: $204
★ Moto Gloves Polygon BS, B/O: $142
★ Moto Gloves Blood Pressure BS, B/O: $84
★ Moto Gloves Blood Pressure BS, B/O: $84
★ Moto Gloves 3rd Commando Company BS, B/O: $63
★ Moto Gloves 3rd Commando Company BS, B/O: $63
⎯★ Specialist Gloves Crimson Kimono WW, B/O: $1215
★ Specialist Gloves Tiger Strike FT, B/O: $672
★ Specialist Gloves Lt. Commander FT, B/O: $305
★ Specialist Gloves Lt. Commander BS, B/O: $140
★ Specialist Gloves Crimson Web BS, B/O: $137
★ Specialist Gloves Buckshot FT, B/O: $75
⎯★ Driver Gloves Crimson Weave FT, B/O: $359
★ Driver Gloves Imperial Plaid BS, B/O: $229
★ Driver Gloves Overtake BS, B/O: $77
★ Driver Gloves Racing Green FT, B/O: $48
⎯★ Sport Gloves Omega FT, B/O: $739
★ Sport Gloves Amphibious BS #2, B/O: $733
★ Sport Gloves Arid BS, B/O: $292
⎯★ Hand Wraps Giraffe MW, B/O: $212
★ Hand Wraps Leather FT, B/O: $160
★ Hand Wraps Desert Shamagh MW, B/O: $101
⎯★ Broken Fang Gloves Yellow-banded MW, B/O: $185
★ Broken Fang Gloves Needle Point FT, B/O: $67
★ Broken Fang Gloves Needle Point WW, B/O: $59
⎯★ Hydra Gloves Case Hardened BS, B/O: $65
★ Hydra Gloves Emerald FT, B/O: $65
★ Hydra Gloves Emerald BS, B/O: $62
WEAPONS
AK-47 Case Hardened BS, B/O: $130
AK-47 Bloodsport MW, B/O: $79
AK-47 Fuel Injector BS, B/O: $76
AK-47 Fuel Injector BS, B/O: $76
AK-47 Bloodsport FT, B/O: $70
AK-47 Neon Rider MW, B/O: $60
StatTrak™ AK-47 Aquamarine Revenge FT, B/O: $72
⎯AWP Fade FN, B/O: $1039
AWP Asiimov FT, B/O: $139
AWP Asiimov FT, B/O: $139
AWP Wildfire MW, B/O: $95
AWP BOOM MW, B/O: $93
AWP BOOM MW, B/O: $93
AWP Duality FN, B/O: $81
AWP Asiimov BS, B/O: $79
AWP Asiimov BS, B/O: $79
AWP Chromatic Aberration FN, B/O: $60
StatTrak™ AWP Hyper Beast FT, B/O: $68
StatTrak™ AWP Hyper Beast FT, B/O: $68
StatTrak™ AWP Electric Hive FT, B/O: $55
⎯Desert Eagle Blaze FN, B/O: $623
Desert Eagle Emerald Jörmungandr FN, B/O: $241
Desert Eagle Cobalt Disruption FN, B/O: $81
Desert Eagle Cobalt Disruption FN, B/O: $81
Desert Eagle Cobalt Disruption FN, B/O: $81
Desert Eagle Printstream FT, B/O: $54
⎯M4A1-S Blue Phosphor FN, B/O: $434
StatTrak™ M4A1-S Bright Water MW, B/O: $55
⎯M4A4 Poseidon FN, B/O: $1465
M4A4 Asiimov BS, B/O: $55
M4A4 Hellfire MW, B/O: $50
⎯USP-S Kill Confirmed MW, B/O: $72
USP-S Printstream FT, B/O: $69
StatTrak™ USP-S Kill Confirmed FT, B/O: $139
⎯AUG Flame Jörmungandr FN, B/O: $234
P90 Run and Hide FT, B/O: $147
Five-SeveN Candy Apple FN, B/O: $61
Trade Offer Link - Steam Profile Link - My Inventory
Some items on the list may no longer be available or are still locked, visit My Inventory for more details.
Send a Trade Offer for fastest response. I consider all offers.
Add me for discuss if there is a serious offer that needs to be discussed.
2023.05.29 00:58 TSMaynard1 [RF] ABP "Always Be Preparing"
Pine needles brushed across Paul's arms as he charged through the trees with his bugout bag slung over his shoulders. Weighing in at forty pounds, it hardly slowed him down as he’d practiced this hike many times. He flicked his wrist and checked his Garmin Solar 2 Tactical Watch. The timer read: 2:23.
“You can do this, Paul.” He increased the pace and gritted his teeth, the weight finally having an effect. Paul bounded over a small creek, up a rolling hill, and pushed through a row of baby birches into a clearing. He doubled over to catch his breath and looked at his watch one more time. Two hours and twenty-eight minutes. Paul pumped his fist in victory.
After a short break, he approached a thorny bush in the center of the clearing. Paul brushed aside sand at the bush’s trunk, revealing a yellow rope. He pulled it, which lifted a hidden door in the ground covered with dirt, shrubbery, and other camouflage on the top side, and drab gray iron on the other. Underneath, wooden stairs descended into darkness. Paul retrieved a flashlight from his pack, clicked on the beam, and disappeared into the earth.
At the bottom of the steps, Paul faced a steel door and a combination lock. With several quick swipes of the dial, he opened the lock and tugged the metal door, which creaked as it cracked open. Paul flashed the beam on the offending hinges and shook his head. Something to fix later. He stepped into the secret chamber and pulled a hanging aluminum chain that turned on a large halogen light, illuminating a twenty-foot by eight-foot metal rectangle. The exposed corrugated walls revealed the bunker was nothing more than a shipping container. Paul buried it two years ago and had divided the interior into three spaces. The entry had a shelf with four dozen gallon jugs of sealed water along with a portable toilet, stacks of toilet paper, and a wastebasket. The middle section was the main living area and contained a futon, a TV with a DVD player, and a neat collection of movies underneath. A nightstand housed a small library of books, including the Bible, The Art of Meditation, Buddhism for Dummies, and other spiritual tomes. The back area of the unit had two shelves filled with canned food—black beans, green beans, peaches, peas, carrots, beef, and chicken. There was also a stationary bike, which was Paul’s proudest accomplishment because he had rigged it to a giant battery that provided power to all the electronics.
Paul was a prepper, and this would be his home when the end of the world came, an event he believed was imminent. The global economy was a house of cards built on greed, corruption, and inflated asset prices, but worst of all, it was based on a faith in paper and digital money.
His fear was triggered four years ago when he attended a lecture by a professor who explained the fragility of the world’s financial system. If a few banks failed, it would rattle people’s confidence, causing a herd-like response. Thousands of people would rush to withdraw their cash, which the banks no longer had because they’d invested it. The banks would either fail, and everyday folks would lose their life savings, or the government would print new money to replace the missing money, making all money worth a lot less. Anyone holding dollars would attempt to convert them to other assets.
Just like dominoes, the banks would topple over one by one, and as they crashed, people’s faith in money would crater. After all, what was money? It was just paper with printed images and numbers that we’d all accepted as having value. More recently, money had become numbers displayed on a computer screen, something Paul knew firsthand as he spent the first seven years of his career working at a regional bank in Asheville, North Carolina. Paul could literally change someone’s net worth with a few keystrokes. He could turn a pauper into a millionaire, or he could bankrupt the richest account holder. Sure, there were safeguards, but all were built on faith, which Paul believed was misplaced. Most people didn’t realize that the Federal Reserve only required each bank to hold at least ten percent of its deposits as a reserve. Ten percent. That’s it. The rest of the money was invested in loans or other financial instruments. As the rich bank owners and executives pushed for bigger and bigger returns, they invested in riskier and riskier assets. The lessons from the financial crisis of 2008 had been forgotten.
Once the monetary system collapsed, the entire economy would become paralyzed. Without a means of exchange, transactions would halt. Think about it. If someone tried to give you a slip of paper that you thought was worthless, would you give them anything of value in return?
The doomsday scenario would escalate. Food and water prices would skyrocket, but with no way to purchase them, many would starve. But people don’t just roll over and die, they would riot and take what they need to survive. Marshall Law would be implemented, but citizens would revolt against the government they felt had cheated them.
As Paul listened to the lecturer that fateful day, a depressing epiphany struck. Everything he’d learned and everything he’d spent his life acquiring was worthless.
Growing up, Paul had been taught the value of money, saving, and planning for retirement. He internalized these lessons as a teen after his father got sick and lost his job. His mother had died when he was very young, but his father still managed to provide him with a stable childhood, even though they were barely middle class. When his father fell ill, Paul witnessed firsthand how fast a family could sink into financial trouble, which couldn’t have come at a worse time. He was applying to colleges, and instead of choosing the one he liked best, he chose the one that gave him the most financial aid, which turned out to be a small school half-way across the country. He also didn’t choose a major he was excited about; he chose the one that would offer the safest financial prospects—economics with an emphasis on banking.
The distance from home meant that Paul didn’t see the rapid deterioration of his father. It wasn’t until he returned for the funeral that family friends told him how the disease had spread. His father had refused to let anyone tell Paul because he didn’t want that to distract Paul from his studies.
After graduating, Paul accepted a job at a bank, and immediately signed up for the company’s 401K match. Most college graduates can't grasp retirement when they enter the workforce, but a 401K match was free money. Over the next several years, Paul worked diligently to advance his career while saving most of his salary. He’d mapped out his life on an excel spreadsheet and calculated that he’d be financially secure at 53.
Everything went according to plan until that damn lecturer came along and blew it up. Sifting through the rubble of his grand scheme, Paul realized that in the new world order, he possessed no skills to survive. The savings he’d so meticulously built up would have little to no value. When the economy collapsed, he'd be like a baby, unable to do anything for himself.
After a week of wallowing in despair, Paul rallied himself. “I can still fix this” became a daily mantra. To start, he threw himself into survival classes. The first was a basic camping course where he learned how to create shelters and start a fire. The next class was more advanced and focused on water purification and building snares for small game.
Paul continued working at the bank, because he needed to pay for the classes and survival equipment he began hoarding, but on his next vacation, he put his training to the test. He planned to camp for a week in the Appalachian Mountains, but the temperature swings, especially at night, were too much. Paul lasted three nights in the wild. The humbling experience forced him to admit that he wasn’t a bushman. His depression returned until he stumbled upon an article about “preppers”—individuals who prepare for end of world disasters. Suddenly, things made sense. He didn’t need to abandon all the comforts of modern society. He needed to prepare for the end of the world the way he had planned for retirement.
As Paul traveled down the rabbit hole of prepping, he uncovered an underground society of people like him who knew the truth about the world’s demise. Of course, not everyone believed it would end because of an economic collapse. Some thought a nuclear war would destroy civilization. Others feared electromagnetic pulses from the sun would wipe out all modern electricity. And still others worried a massive volcanic eruption would spew enough ash and soot into the air to blot out the sun. There was no shortage of theories about the world ending, but one thing was clear. The world would end. Did it matter how it happened?
Paul began his prepping quest by purchasing ten acres an hour and a half outside of Asheville. It had plenty of small animals and a creek running through the middle. He then transported an unused cargo container to the land and buried it. This was the toughest part of the plan because it required heavy equipment. Next, he dug out a staircase and installed a steel door at the entrance. Finally, he furnished it with a mix of modern comforts and survival essentials.
Almost every weekend, Paul trekked to his underground sanctuary and made improvements. He also planned his bugout strategy. When the end of the world hit, he figured he needed to be safely hidden in his home within two and a half hours, a time he had achieved with this latest trip. Everything was set, and Paul could finally relax. He was prepared.
Paul slumped down on his futon and considered playing a movie or cracking the bottle of Jim Beam whiskey he stored in a special cabinet, but he shook off the urge. Those things were the rewards and comforts he’d enjoy after the world ended. His fingers rubbed the top of the Bible, something he planned to read cover to cover once the global economy cratered. He’d have plenty of time then to discover his spiritual side, but not now. Something else needed to be done. Something he’d missed.
The biggest mistake a prepper can make is assuming he had everything covered. This was the lesson taught by Yannis, the guru of the prepping world. He was so well-known within the doomsday community; he only went by one name. The guy was sharp as a whip and could live off the land, if necessary, but he preferred a more sophisticated lifestyle, so he created a luxurious cave that contained backup systems for all his backups. Food, water, shelter, and electricity were all taken care of, and it was projected that Yannis could survive ten years comfortably after the apocalypse. His famous blog titled “ABP” stood for Always Be Preparing. It was a motto Yannis lived by and something Paul aspired to, but as he sat in his bunker after the relentless hike, fatigue set in. He didn’t want to think about prepping or his bugout strategy. He wanted to just be.
Paul tilted his head back onto the futon’s cushion, and a loneliness crept into his mind. All his prepping left little time for relationships. He dated off and on in college, but it was never anything serious. It wasn’t like his high school sweetheart, Kristin Summer. They dated junior and senior year, but then Paul broke it off when his father got sick. Paul couldn’t focus on romance, and he knew the relationship wouldn’t have worked when he left for school 1,500 miles away. It still hurt when he learned from a friend that Kristin started dating Derek Gorman, an old classmate Paul hated. It hurt even more when he found out they had gotten married.
After college, Paul joined a couple of dating sites, but he hadn’t used them in over two years. Most women wouldn’t understand his prepping lifestyle, at least that’s what he feared, so he rejected dating before anyone could reject him. But most wasn't all, and with eight billion people on the planet, there had to be someone for him. Almost without thinking, Paul pulled out his phone and opened “My Match,” the site where he’d had the most luck. His profile still had a photo from his early banking days. He was clean shaven with a naïve smile. The face staring back in the picture differed greatly from the bearded survivalist he’d become. Would anyone consider a relationship with the new Paul? Only one way to find out. He snapped a selfie, uploaded it, and then updated his hobbies with the first being “prepping” followed by “survival skills training.” He finished by pressing the button that showed he was actively looking for someone. All he had to do now was wait.
After spending the night in his bunker, Paul checked the dating site in the morning. No response. “It was a stupid idea,” he told himself, and stuffed his phone back into his pocket. He locked his container and returned home.
Over the next two weeks, Paul received zero requests for a date. He didn’t even receive a message from anyone to start a conversation and test the waters. “Shake it off, dumbass,” he said alone in the confines of his cottage-style home. “The world is going to end, anyway.” He clenched his jaw and did what he always did. He researched more ways to survive. Paul poured over blog posts and imagined worst-case scenarios. How could his water be contaminated? Maybe he should bury some caches of water. What if someone finds his shelter? Maybe security cameras were needed. What if he gets lonely in his shelter? No ideas came to mind.
After his eyes got tired from reading, Paul clicked out of his browser, and the list of all his apps stared at him. For reasons unknown to him, he opened Facebook, something he hadn’t done for months. There were a handful of notifications and a couple of friend requests sent weeks ago. His heart raced when he saw the name of one—Kristin Summer. When he accepted, he saw she was on-line right then.
Should he message her? Would that be weird right after accepting her request? But wasn’t it weird that he hadn’t responded for several weeks? He pulled up the messenger and typed. “Hey. Sorry for the delay in accepting your request. Hadn’t been on Facebook in a while. Been busy. Hope you and Derek are well.”
He curled his lip in disgust as he typed Derek’s name and considered deleting it, but he took the moral high ground and hit “send” with his message unaltered.
Kristin Summer. Just the thought of her name brought a smile to Paul’s face.
Bing.
The sound alerted Paul to a response, which he read out loud. “Hey Paul. Good to hear from you. Derek and I divorced a little over a year ago. It was rough at first, but it was for the best. How are you?”
Paul’s eyes widened with shock and excitement. He couldn’t believe Derek was so stupid to let Kristin go. Paul could at least blame their breakup on his father’s illness. His fingers prattled away on the keyboard. “Things are amazing.” He stopped typing. That was a lie. Should he pretend like things were great or should he be honest and tell her about his prepping and the end of the world? Neither option sounded appealing. He tapped the keys without writing until he settled on something uncontroversial.
“Working at Trinity Bank in Asheville. It pays the bills. Where are you?”
Within a minute, the sweet sound of the notification binged. “I’m not too far away in Durham. If you’re ever in town, let me know.”
If you’re ever in town, let me know.
Paul couldn’t believe his eyes. Was Kristin asking him out? He shook his head. Nah, she’s probably just being polite. But maybe. If there was any chance, he had to find out. He chewed his lip and deliberated his next response. Fortune favors the bold, he told himself. Then he remembered Matt Damon telling people that in the now infamous commercial for FTX months before its collapse. When that occurred, Paul thought it was the beginning of the end, and he lived in his bunker for two days before emerging and finding the world still intact.
Paul clenched his fist. It was still good advice, and he had to try. Almost involuntarily, he typed, “I’ll be there tomorrow afternoon. If you want to get together, let me know.” His finger hit send before he could talk himself out of it. There was no qualification in the message. No waffling or hedging. It was clear Paul wanted to see Kristin. The only question now was whether she wanted to see him.
The next ten minutes felt like ten days. Paul paced back and forth with his hands over his head, and he glanced at the monitor every few seconds, just in case his ears had missed the notification alert.
There was nothing.
A dark depression filled the room. Why had he gotten his hopes up? What was the point, anyway? The world was going to end.
Bing.
Paul leapt to the computer and his eyes widened with each word he read. “How about a lunch at The Fig Tree Restaurant on 7th?”
People overuse the word literally, but Paul at least felt like his jaw was literally on the floor. He had a date with Kristin Summer, the one woman he had loved. His hands rattled away at the keyboard. “See you at 1 tomorrow.”
“Holy crap,” he muttered to himself.
Panic replaced his excitement when he imagined sitting down and talking to Kristin. What would he say? “Hey Kristin, what have you been up to? Oh me? I’ve been working at a job I hate and planning for the end of the world.”
He drifted into the bathroom and stared at the scruffy character in the mirror. Paul could only cringe at the thought of Kristin’s reaction upon seeing him. She might not recognize the bearded loner who resembled Ted Kaczynski more than the short-haired, clean-shaven teen she last saw.
Only one thing to do.
Paul had to prepare. He opened a drawer and pulled out a pair of clippers. He began trimming his beard and mustache as short as the clippers would allow. Next, he applied a generous amount of cream and shaved all of it off. Paul smirked at the young man hiding under the shabby beard, but it still wasn’t enough. He set the guard on the clippers to a four and began shaving his head. In college, Paul cut his own hair to save money, and the skill came back to him quickly. He dropped to a three and worked in a fade on the sides and then finished with a two. Paul turned to the left, then to the right, and assessed his work. Not bad.
Next thing to prepare was his outfit. Paul slid the door of his closet open and evaluated his choices. A banker’s suit was too stuffy, and his mountain man denim was too hermit inspired. He yanked the clothes aside and climbed deeper into the recesses of his wardrobe until he found a nice buttoned-down shirt and a dark pair of slacks. It gave just the right vibe of successful and stable, while not trying too hard to impress, even though that was his precisely his goal. Paul laid the selection on the chair by his bed. Durham was a three-and-a-half-hour drive away, and he wanted to make sure he got there with time to find parking, and maybe use the restroom. He set the alarm on his iPhone for 6 a.m. That would give him plenty of time to take a shower, have breakfast, and get dressed.
There was no chance of falling asleep easily. His mind raced with thoughts, questions, and various scenarios about what the day would bring. To relax, he poured himself a double whiskey, which he downed with a single slurp. He poured another and sipped.
Kristin Summer. He shook his head, still in disbelief.
As the effect of alcohol set in, Paul laid down on his bed and shut his eyes. Tomorrow would be a good day.
Paul slipped into a deep, satisfying sleep until his mind jolted him awake. It was past 6 a.m. He didn’t know how he knew. He just knew. Paul had slept through his alarm. He snatched his phone off the nightstand, but it was out of battery. He checked his watch and saw it was 7 a.m. There was still time to get to Durham.
Paul jumped out of bed and into the bathroom. He flicked on the light switch, but nothing came on. Paul toggled it on and off, but the outlet was dead.
Police sirens wailed in the distance. Paul meandered out of his house and onto the front lawn. Aside from the sirens, there was an uneasy stillness. Paul’s neighbor Kurt ran out from his home with two suitcases that he flung into the trunk of his car.
“Kurt. What’s going on?” Paul asked.
“Fort Knox was bombed. All the gold was obliterated. And something happened to the electricity and the internet. They shut it down.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know, man, but it’s not good. No one has access to news, no money, nothing.”
“Where are you going?” Paul asked.
“I don’t know. Somewhere isolated. I’m just hoping there are no more bombings or other attacks.” Kurt jumped into his car and sped away.
This was it. The world was ending. All of his preps were about to pay off. But what about Kristin? Paul didn’t want the world to end. If he tried to get Kristin, there was no chance he could reach his shelter before things get hairy. Plus, there was no way he could find her. He didn’t have her address, and she might have already left Durham for somewhere safe.
Paul forced himself to focus on his plan. This was what he had prepared for. He dashed back inside and changed into his camouflage gear, grabbed his bugout bag, and then sprinted to his truck. He drove through his neighborhood and reached the main road. His shelter and plans were to the left. Kristin and the unknown were to the right. The whites of Paul’s knuckles flared as he gripped the steering wheel. Now was not the time to waffle. He turned left and hit the accelerator.
Paul gritted his teeth and raced down the street. Keep going. Keep going. He urged himself on. Almost involuntarily, his foot slammed on the brakes. Paul couldn’t do it. He’d planned for the worst all his life, and while he sat alone with the engine idling, he had to admit the truth. He’d lived all his life in fear.
Paul yanked the wheel and turned around toward Durham.
submitted by TSMaynard1 to shortstories [link] [comments]
“You can do this, Paul.” He increased the pace and gritted his teeth, the weight finally having an effect. Paul bounded over a small creek, up a rolling hill, and pushed through a row of baby birches into a clearing. He doubled over to catch his breath and looked at his watch one more time. Two hours and twenty-eight minutes. Paul pumped his fist in victory.
After a short break, he approached a thorny bush in the center of the clearing. Paul brushed aside sand at the bush’s trunk, revealing a yellow rope. He pulled it, which lifted a hidden door in the ground covered with dirt, shrubbery, and other camouflage on the top side, and drab gray iron on the other. Underneath, wooden stairs descended into darkness. Paul retrieved a flashlight from his pack, clicked on the beam, and disappeared into the earth.
At the bottom of the steps, Paul faced a steel door and a combination lock. With several quick swipes of the dial, he opened the lock and tugged the metal door, which creaked as it cracked open. Paul flashed the beam on the offending hinges and shook his head. Something to fix later. He stepped into the secret chamber and pulled a hanging aluminum chain that turned on a large halogen light, illuminating a twenty-foot by eight-foot metal rectangle. The exposed corrugated walls revealed the bunker was nothing more than a shipping container. Paul buried it two years ago and had divided the interior into three spaces. The entry had a shelf with four dozen gallon jugs of sealed water along with a portable toilet, stacks of toilet paper, and a wastebasket. The middle section was the main living area and contained a futon, a TV with a DVD player, and a neat collection of movies underneath. A nightstand housed a small library of books, including the Bible, The Art of Meditation, Buddhism for Dummies, and other spiritual tomes. The back area of the unit had two shelves filled with canned food—black beans, green beans, peaches, peas, carrots, beef, and chicken. There was also a stationary bike, which was Paul’s proudest accomplishment because he had rigged it to a giant battery that provided power to all the electronics.
Paul was a prepper, and this would be his home when the end of the world came, an event he believed was imminent. The global economy was a house of cards built on greed, corruption, and inflated asset prices, but worst of all, it was based on a faith in paper and digital money.
His fear was triggered four years ago when he attended a lecture by a professor who explained the fragility of the world’s financial system. If a few banks failed, it would rattle people’s confidence, causing a herd-like response. Thousands of people would rush to withdraw their cash, which the banks no longer had because they’d invested it. The banks would either fail, and everyday folks would lose their life savings, or the government would print new money to replace the missing money, making all money worth a lot less. Anyone holding dollars would attempt to convert them to other assets.
Just like dominoes, the banks would topple over one by one, and as they crashed, people’s faith in money would crater. After all, what was money? It was just paper with printed images and numbers that we’d all accepted as having value. More recently, money had become numbers displayed on a computer screen, something Paul knew firsthand as he spent the first seven years of his career working at a regional bank in Asheville, North Carolina. Paul could literally change someone’s net worth with a few keystrokes. He could turn a pauper into a millionaire, or he could bankrupt the richest account holder. Sure, there were safeguards, but all were built on faith, which Paul believed was misplaced. Most people didn’t realize that the Federal Reserve only required each bank to hold at least ten percent of its deposits as a reserve. Ten percent. That’s it. The rest of the money was invested in loans or other financial instruments. As the rich bank owners and executives pushed for bigger and bigger returns, they invested in riskier and riskier assets. The lessons from the financial crisis of 2008 had been forgotten.
Once the monetary system collapsed, the entire economy would become paralyzed. Without a means of exchange, transactions would halt. Think about it. If someone tried to give you a slip of paper that you thought was worthless, would you give them anything of value in return?
The doomsday scenario would escalate. Food and water prices would skyrocket, but with no way to purchase them, many would starve. But people don’t just roll over and die, they would riot and take what they need to survive. Marshall Law would be implemented, but citizens would revolt against the government they felt had cheated them.
As Paul listened to the lecturer that fateful day, a depressing epiphany struck. Everything he’d learned and everything he’d spent his life acquiring was worthless.
Growing up, Paul had been taught the value of money, saving, and planning for retirement. He internalized these lessons as a teen after his father got sick and lost his job. His mother had died when he was very young, but his father still managed to provide him with a stable childhood, even though they were barely middle class. When his father fell ill, Paul witnessed firsthand how fast a family could sink into financial trouble, which couldn’t have come at a worse time. He was applying to colleges, and instead of choosing the one he liked best, he chose the one that gave him the most financial aid, which turned out to be a small school half-way across the country. He also didn’t choose a major he was excited about; he chose the one that would offer the safest financial prospects—economics with an emphasis on banking.
The distance from home meant that Paul didn’t see the rapid deterioration of his father. It wasn’t until he returned for the funeral that family friends told him how the disease had spread. His father had refused to let anyone tell Paul because he didn’t want that to distract Paul from his studies.
After graduating, Paul accepted a job at a bank, and immediately signed up for the company’s 401K match. Most college graduates can't grasp retirement when they enter the workforce, but a 401K match was free money. Over the next several years, Paul worked diligently to advance his career while saving most of his salary. He’d mapped out his life on an excel spreadsheet and calculated that he’d be financially secure at 53.
Everything went according to plan until that damn lecturer came along and blew it up. Sifting through the rubble of his grand scheme, Paul realized that in the new world order, he possessed no skills to survive. The savings he’d so meticulously built up would have little to no value. When the economy collapsed, he'd be like a baby, unable to do anything for himself.
After a week of wallowing in despair, Paul rallied himself. “I can still fix this” became a daily mantra. To start, he threw himself into survival classes. The first was a basic camping course where he learned how to create shelters and start a fire. The next class was more advanced and focused on water purification and building snares for small game.
Paul continued working at the bank, because he needed to pay for the classes and survival equipment he began hoarding, but on his next vacation, he put his training to the test. He planned to camp for a week in the Appalachian Mountains, but the temperature swings, especially at night, were too much. Paul lasted three nights in the wild. The humbling experience forced him to admit that he wasn’t a bushman. His depression returned until he stumbled upon an article about “preppers”—individuals who prepare for end of world disasters. Suddenly, things made sense. He didn’t need to abandon all the comforts of modern society. He needed to prepare for the end of the world the way he had planned for retirement.
As Paul traveled down the rabbit hole of prepping, he uncovered an underground society of people like him who knew the truth about the world’s demise. Of course, not everyone believed it would end because of an economic collapse. Some thought a nuclear war would destroy civilization. Others feared electromagnetic pulses from the sun would wipe out all modern electricity. And still others worried a massive volcanic eruption would spew enough ash and soot into the air to blot out the sun. There was no shortage of theories about the world ending, but one thing was clear. The world would end. Did it matter how it happened?
Paul began his prepping quest by purchasing ten acres an hour and a half outside of Asheville. It had plenty of small animals and a creek running through the middle. He then transported an unused cargo container to the land and buried it. This was the toughest part of the plan because it required heavy equipment. Next, he dug out a staircase and installed a steel door at the entrance. Finally, he furnished it with a mix of modern comforts and survival essentials.
Almost every weekend, Paul trekked to his underground sanctuary and made improvements. He also planned his bugout strategy. When the end of the world hit, he figured he needed to be safely hidden in his home within two and a half hours, a time he had achieved with this latest trip. Everything was set, and Paul could finally relax. He was prepared.
Paul slumped down on his futon and considered playing a movie or cracking the bottle of Jim Beam whiskey he stored in a special cabinet, but he shook off the urge. Those things were the rewards and comforts he’d enjoy after the world ended. His fingers rubbed the top of the Bible, something he planned to read cover to cover once the global economy cratered. He’d have plenty of time then to discover his spiritual side, but not now. Something else needed to be done. Something he’d missed.
The biggest mistake a prepper can make is assuming he had everything covered. This was the lesson taught by Yannis, the guru of the prepping world. He was so well-known within the doomsday community; he only went by one name. The guy was sharp as a whip and could live off the land, if necessary, but he preferred a more sophisticated lifestyle, so he created a luxurious cave that contained backup systems for all his backups. Food, water, shelter, and electricity were all taken care of, and it was projected that Yannis could survive ten years comfortably after the apocalypse. His famous blog titled “ABP” stood for Always Be Preparing. It was a motto Yannis lived by and something Paul aspired to, but as he sat in his bunker after the relentless hike, fatigue set in. He didn’t want to think about prepping or his bugout strategy. He wanted to just be.
Paul tilted his head back onto the futon’s cushion, and a loneliness crept into his mind. All his prepping left little time for relationships. He dated off and on in college, but it was never anything serious. It wasn’t like his high school sweetheart, Kristin Summer. They dated junior and senior year, but then Paul broke it off when his father got sick. Paul couldn’t focus on romance, and he knew the relationship wouldn’t have worked when he left for school 1,500 miles away. It still hurt when he learned from a friend that Kristin started dating Derek Gorman, an old classmate Paul hated. It hurt even more when he found out they had gotten married.
After college, Paul joined a couple of dating sites, but he hadn’t used them in over two years. Most women wouldn’t understand his prepping lifestyle, at least that’s what he feared, so he rejected dating before anyone could reject him. But most wasn't all, and with eight billion people on the planet, there had to be someone for him. Almost without thinking, Paul pulled out his phone and opened “My Match,” the site where he’d had the most luck. His profile still had a photo from his early banking days. He was clean shaven with a naïve smile. The face staring back in the picture differed greatly from the bearded survivalist he’d become. Would anyone consider a relationship with the new Paul? Only one way to find out. He snapped a selfie, uploaded it, and then updated his hobbies with the first being “prepping” followed by “survival skills training.” He finished by pressing the button that showed he was actively looking for someone. All he had to do now was wait.
After spending the night in his bunker, Paul checked the dating site in the morning. No response. “It was a stupid idea,” he told himself, and stuffed his phone back into his pocket. He locked his container and returned home.
Over the next two weeks, Paul received zero requests for a date. He didn’t even receive a message from anyone to start a conversation and test the waters. “Shake it off, dumbass,” he said alone in the confines of his cottage-style home. “The world is going to end, anyway.” He clenched his jaw and did what he always did. He researched more ways to survive. Paul poured over blog posts and imagined worst-case scenarios. How could his water be contaminated? Maybe he should bury some caches of water. What if someone finds his shelter? Maybe security cameras were needed. What if he gets lonely in his shelter? No ideas came to mind.
After his eyes got tired from reading, Paul clicked out of his browser, and the list of all his apps stared at him. For reasons unknown to him, he opened Facebook, something he hadn’t done for months. There were a handful of notifications and a couple of friend requests sent weeks ago. His heart raced when he saw the name of one—Kristin Summer. When he accepted, he saw she was on-line right then.
Should he message her? Would that be weird right after accepting her request? But wasn’t it weird that he hadn’t responded for several weeks? He pulled up the messenger and typed. “Hey. Sorry for the delay in accepting your request. Hadn’t been on Facebook in a while. Been busy. Hope you and Derek are well.”
He curled his lip in disgust as he typed Derek’s name and considered deleting it, but he took the moral high ground and hit “send” with his message unaltered.
Kristin Summer. Just the thought of her name brought a smile to Paul’s face.
Bing.
The sound alerted Paul to a response, which he read out loud. “Hey Paul. Good to hear from you. Derek and I divorced a little over a year ago. It was rough at first, but it was for the best. How are you?”
Paul’s eyes widened with shock and excitement. He couldn’t believe Derek was so stupid to let Kristin go. Paul could at least blame their breakup on his father’s illness. His fingers prattled away on the keyboard. “Things are amazing.” He stopped typing. That was a lie. Should he pretend like things were great or should he be honest and tell her about his prepping and the end of the world? Neither option sounded appealing. He tapped the keys without writing until he settled on something uncontroversial.
“Working at Trinity Bank in Asheville. It pays the bills. Where are you?”
Within a minute, the sweet sound of the notification binged. “I’m not too far away in Durham. If you’re ever in town, let me know.”
If you’re ever in town, let me know.
Paul couldn’t believe his eyes. Was Kristin asking him out? He shook his head. Nah, she’s probably just being polite. But maybe. If there was any chance, he had to find out. He chewed his lip and deliberated his next response. Fortune favors the bold, he told himself. Then he remembered Matt Damon telling people that in the now infamous commercial for FTX months before its collapse. When that occurred, Paul thought it was the beginning of the end, and he lived in his bunker for two days before emerging and finding the world still intact.
Paul clenched his fist. It was still good advice, and he had to try. Almost involuntarily, he typed, “I’ll be there tomorrow afternoon. If you want to get together, let me know.” His finger hit send before he could talk himself out of it. There was no qualification in the message. No waffling or hedging. It was clear Paul wanted to see Kristin. The only question now was whether she wanted to see him.
The next ten minutes felt like ten days. Paul paced back and forth with his hands over his head, and he glanced at the monitor every few seconds, just in case his ears had missed the notification alert.
There was nothing.
A dark depression filled the room. Why had he gotten his hopes up? What was the point, anyway? The world was going to end.
Bing.
Paul leapt to the computer and his eyes widened with each word he read. “How about a lunch at The Fig Tree Restaurant on 7th?”
People overuse the word literally, but Paul at least felt like his jaw was literally on the floor. He had a date with Kristin Summer, the one woman he had loved. His hands rattled away at the keyboard. “See you at 1 tomorrow.”
“Holy crap,” he muttered to himself.
Panic replaced his excitement when he imagined sitting down and talking to Kristin. What would he say? “Hey Kristin, what have you been up to? Oh me? I’ve been working at a job I hate and planning for the end of the world.”
He drifted into the bathroom and stared at the scruffy character in the mirror. Paul could only cringe at the thought of Kristin’s reaction upon seeing him. She might not recognize the bearded loner who resembled Ted Kaczynski more than the short-haired, clean-shaven teen she last saw.
Only one thing to do.
Paul had to prepare. He opened a drawer and pulled out a pair of clippers. He began trimming his beard and mustache as short as the clippers would allow. Next, he applied a generous amount of cream and shaved all of it off. Paul smirked at the young man hiding under the shabby beard, but it still wasn’t enough. He set the guard on the clippers to a four and began shaving his head. In college, Paul cut his own hair to save money, and the skill came back to him quickly. He dropped to a three and worked in a fade on the sides and then finished with a two. Paul turned to the left, then to the right, and assessed his work. Not bad.
Next thing to prepare was his outfit. Paul slid the door of his closet open and evaluated his choices. A banker’s suit was too stuffy, and his mountain man denim was too hermit inspired. He yanked the clothes aside and climbed deeper into the recesses of his wardrobe until he found a nice buttoned-down shirt and a dark pair of slacks. It gave just the right vibe of successful and stable, while not trying too hard to impress, even though that was his precisely his goal. Paul laid the selection on the chair by his bed. Durham was a three-and-a-half-hour drive away, and he wanted to make sure he got there with time to find parking, and maybe use the restroom. He set the alarm on his iPhone for 6 a.m. That would give him plenty of time to take a shower, have breakfast, and get dressed.
There was no chance of falling asleep easily. His mind raced with thoughts, questions, and various scenarios about what the day would bring. To relax, he poured himself a double whiskey, which he downed with a single slurp. He poured another and sipped.
Kristin Summer. He shook his head, still in disbelief.
As the effect of alcohol set in, Paul laid down on his bed and shut his eyes. Tomorrow would be a good day.
Paul slipped into a deep, satisfying sleep until his mind jolted him awake. It was past 6 a.m. He didn’t know how he knew. He just knew. Paul had slept through his alarm. He snatched his phone off the nightstand, but it was out of battery. He checked his watch and saw it was 7 a.m. There was still time to get to Durham.
Paul jumped out of bed and into the bathroom. He flicked on the light switch, but nothing came on. Paul toggled it on and off, but the outlet was dead.
Police sirens wailed in the distance. Paul meandered out of his house and onto the front lawn. Aside from the sirens, there was an uneasy stillness. Paul’s neighbor Kurt ran out from his home with two suitcases that he flung into the trunk of his car.
“Kurt. What’s going on?” Paul asked.
“Fort Knox was bombed. All the gold was obliterated. And something happened to the electricity and the internet. They shut it down.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know, man, but it’s not good. No one has access to news, no money, nothing.”
“Where are you going?” Paul asked.
“I don’t know. Somewhere isolated. I’m just hoping there are no more bombings or other attacks.” Kurt jumped into his car and sped away.
This was it. The world was ending. All of his preps were about to pay off. But what about Kristin? Paul didn’t want the world to end. If he tried to get Kristin, there was no chance he could reach his shelter before things get hairy. Plus, there was no way he could find her. He didn’t have her address, and she might have already left Durham for somewhere safe.
Paul forced himself to focus on his plan. This was what he had prepared for. He dashed back inside and changed into his camouflage gear, grabbed his bugout bag, and then sprinted to his truck. He drove through his neighborhood and reached the main road. His shelter and plans were to the left. Kristin and the unknown were to the right. The whites of Paul’s knuckles flared as he gripped the steering wheel. Now was not the time to waffle. He turned left and hit the accelerator.
Paul gritted his teeth and raced down the street. Keep going. Keep going. He urged himself on. Almost involuntarily, his foot slammed on the brakes. Paul couldn’t do it. He’d planned for the worst all his life, and while he sat alone with the engine idling, he had to admit the truth. He’d lived all his life in fear.
Paul yanked the wheel and turned around toward Durham.
2023.05.29 00:45 spidey12341 [WTS] A bunch of different knives
Hello Knife Swap fam, got a bunch of nice stuff for sale. Got a baby coming soon so I wanted to make my home a bit safer and also free up some funds.
Timestamp- - - Videos
All prices are firm there's not much wiggle room that I can take unless you buy more than one knife.
I can accept PayPal F&F or cash app. Not really looking for trades at the moment but if you have something interesting I'll take a look, also not looking to add money on trades.
I can send more pics if needed. I mainly ship with USPS priority flat rate padded envelopes.
Thank you for looking and I hope you have a great Memorial day!
submitted by spidey12341 to Knife_Swap [link] [comments]
Timestamp- - - Videos
- SBD Mini Tempest with gold dark matter CF, skiffs bearings and I don't have the originals, m390 Bowie blade, and in original box. The blade has no marks at all and is still very sharp. I carried it a couple times, the pocket clip has some snails that can be seen in the video. SV 300
- Heretic Manticore E double edge with elmax blade. Bought to try out another otf and it's great, I would even say better than microtech utx otfs. Comes with original box, bottle of sample lube, and knife sock. The body has no scratches except a tiny ding in the finish by the glass breaker and the pocket clip has a lot marks. SV 200
- Brian Tighe Custom "Tighmera" Compound Ground Tanto Cracked Ice Finish Bronze Ti, comes with pouch and is basically new but I am the second owner. SV 750
- ZT 0220 a great knife with very nice action. The scales were anodized green and stonewashed. Was a EDC for a long time and has a lot of snails on front and back. Centering is perfect and edge is still very sharp. Can't go wrong with a ZT especially at this price. SV 120
- Microtech Socom Bravo. frame is in very good condition, no snails anywhere, only the left edge of the clip has a little bit that's only noticeable when the light hits it right. Still has the factory edge and no snails on the blade, kinda has some "dirt" on the fuller area but I cant really get rid of it. SV 300
- CJRB Feldspar WMK is the button lock version with black AR-RPM9 blade and black micarta handles with blue pivot collar. This one was carried a couple times and broke down some cardboard but is in very good condition. (the tiny white dot on the back on the blade near the tip is a bit of dust) - SV 50
- Demko AD 20.5 with aus10a steel and (I think) RGT scales. Blade is in good condition and has a mirror edge by previous owner. It also has a LynchNW pocket clip and 2 extra grivory scales in white and black, and comes with the 2 original clips. SV 170
- SMKE DUK clone - pretty nice clone I got it on DHgate a while back to see if I like the DUK design before spending the cash on a real one, good condition carried a little bit but didn't cut much. SV 100
All prices are firm there's not much wiggle room that I can take unless you buy more than one knife.
I can accept PayPal F&F or cash app. Not really looking for trades at the moment but if you have something interesting I'll take a look, also not looking to add money on trades.
I can send more pics if needed. I mainly ship with USPS priority flat rate padded envelopes.
Thank you for looking and I hope you have a great Memorial day!
2023.05.29 00:40 RandomAppalachian468 Don't fly over Barron County Ohio.
The whirring blades of my MD-902 throbbed against the warm evening air, and I smiled.
From 5,000 feet, the ground flew by in a carpet of dark forests and kelly-green fields. The sun hung low on the horizon in a picturesque array of dazzling orange and gold, and I could make out the narrow strip of the Ohio River to my left, glistening in the fading daylight. This time of year, the trees would be full of the sweet aroma of fresh blossoms, and the frequent rains kept small pockets of fluffy white mist hanging in the treetops. It was a beautiful view, one that reminded me of why being a helicopter pilot trumped flying in a jumbo jet far above the clouds every day of the week.
Fourteen more days, and I’m debt free.
That made me grin even more. I’d been working as a charter pilot ever since I obtained my license at age 19, and after years of keeping my nose to the grindstone, I was closing on the final payment for real-estate in western Pennsylvania. With no debt, a fixer-upper house on 30 rural acres all to myself, and a respectable wage for a 26-year-old pilot, I looked forward to the financial freedom I could now enjoy. Maybe I’d take a vacation, somewhere exotic like Venice Italy, or the Dominican Republic. Or perhaps I’d sock the money back for the day I started a family.
“Remember kleineun, a real man looks after his own.”
My elderly ouma’s voice came back from the depths of my memories, her proud, sun-tanned face rising from the darkness. She and my Rhodesian grandfather had emigrated to the US when they were newlyweds, as the violence against white Boer descendants in South Africa spiraled out of control. My mother and father both died in a car crash when I was six, and it had been my grandparents who raised me. Due to this, I’d grown up with a slight accent that many of my classmates found amusing, and I could speak both English, and Afrikaans, the Boer tongue of our former home.
I shifted in my seat, stretched my back muscles, and glanced at the picture taped to my console. Both my parents flanked a grinning, gap-toothed six-year-old me, at the last Christmas we’d spent together. My mother beamed, her dark hair and Italian features a sharp contrast to my father’s sandy blonde hair and blue eyes. Sometimes, I liked to imagine they were smiling at me with pride at how well I flew the old silver-colored bird my company had assigned to me, and that made the long, lonely flights easier to bear.
A flicker caught my eye, and I broke my gaze away from the photograph.
Perched in its small cradle above the controls, my little black Garmin fuzzed over for a few seconds, its screen shifting from brightly colored maps to a barrage of grey static.
Did the power chord come loose?
I checked, ensuring the power-cable for the unit’s battery was plugged into the port on the control panel. It was a brand-new GPS unit, and I’d used it a few times already, so I knew it wasn’t defective. Granted, I could fly and navigate without it, but the Garmin made my time as a pilot so much easier that the thought of going blind was dreadful.
My fuel gauge danced, clicked to empty, then to full, in a bizarre jolt.
More of the gauges began to stutter, the entire panel seeming to develop terrets all at once, and my pulse began to race. Something was wrong, very wrong, and the sludge inside my bowels churned with sour fear.
“Come on, come on.” I flicked switches, turned dials, punched buttons, but nothing seemed to fix the spasming electronics. Every gauge failed, and without warning, I found myself plunged into inky darkness.
Outside, the sun surrendered to the pull of night, the sky darker than usual. A distant rumble of thunder reverberated above the roar of my helicopter’s engine, and I thought I glimpsed a streak of yellowish lightning on the far horizon to my left.
Calm down Chris. We’re still flying, so it must just be a blown fuse. Stay in control and find a place to set her down.
My sweaty palm slid on the cyclic stick, and both feet weighed heavy on the yaw pedals. The collective stuck to my other hand with a nervous vibration, and I squinted against the abyss outside.
Beep.
I jumped despite myself, as the little Garmin on my panel flared back to life, the static pulling aside to reveal a twitching display. Each time the screen glitched, it showed the colorful map detailing my flight path over the ground below, but I noticed that some of the lines changed, the names shifting, as if the device couldn’t decide between two different versions of the world.
One name jutted out at me, slate gray like most of the major county names, appearing with ghostly flickers from between two neighboring ones.
Barron County.
I stared, confused. I’d flown over this section of southeastern Ohio plenty of times, and I knew the counties by heart. At this point, I should have been over the southern end of Noble County, and maybe dipping lower into Washington. There was no Barron County in Ohio. I was sure of it.
And yet it shown back at me from the digital landscape, a strange, almost cigar-shaped chunk of terrain carved from the surrounding counties like a tumor, sometimes there, sometimes not, as my little Garmin struggled to find the correct map. Rain began to patter against my cockpit window, and the entire aircraft rattled from a strong gust of wind. Thick clouds closed over my field of vision like a sea of gray cotton.
The blood in my veins turned to ice, and I sucked in a nervous breath.
Land. I had to land. There was nothing else to do, my flight controls weren’t responding, and only my Garmin had managed to come back to life. Perhaps I’d been hit by lightning, and the electronics had been fried? Either way, it was too dark to tell, but a storm seemed to be brewing, and if I didn’t get my feet on the ground soon, I could be in real trouble.
“Better safe than sorry.” I pushed down on the collective to start my slow descent and clicked the talking button for my headset. “Any station, this is Douglass Three-One-Four-Foxtrot, over.”
Nothing.
“Any station, this is Douglass Three-One-Four-Foxtrot, requesting emergency assistance, over.”
Still nothing.
If the radio’s dead, I’m really up a creek.
With my hand shaking, I clicked on the mic one more time. “Any station, this is—”
Like a curtain pulling back, the fog cleared from around my window, and the words stuck in my throat.
Without my gauges, I couldn’t tell just how far I’d descended, but I was definitely very low. Thick trees poked up from the ground, and the hills rolled into high ridges with flat valley floors, fields and pastures pockmarking them. Rain fell all around in cold, silvery sheets, a normal feature for the mid spring in this part of Ohio.
What wasn’t normal, were the fires.
At first, I thought they were forest fires for the amount of smoke and flames that bellowed from each spot, but as I swooped lower, my eyes widened in horror.
They were houses.
Farms, cottages, little clusters that barely constituted villages, all of them belched orange flames and black pillars of sooty smoke. I couldn’t hear above the helicopter blades, but I could see the flashes on the ground, along the road, in between the trees, and even coming from the burning buildings, little jets of golden light that spat into the darkness with anger.
Gunfire. That’s rifle fire, a whole lot of it.
Tiny black figures darted through the shadows, barely discernable from where I sat, several hundred feet up. I couldn’t see much, but some were definitely running away, the streaks of yellow gunfire chasing them. A few dark gray vehicles rumbled down one of the gravel roads, and sprayed fire into the houses as it went. They were fighting, I realized, the people in the trucks and the locals. It was horrific, like something out of war-torn Afghanistan, but worse.
Then, I caught a glimpse of the others.
They didn’t move like the rest, who either fled from the dark vehicles, or fired back from behind cover. These skinny figures loped along with haphazard gaits, many running on all fours like animals, swarming from the trees by the dozens. They threw themselves into the gales of bullets without flinching, attacking anyone within range, and something about the way they moved, so fluid, so fearless, made my heart skip a beat.
What is that?
“Echo Four Actual to unknown caller, please respond, over.”
Choking back a cry of shock, I fumbled at the control panel with clumsy fingers, the man’s voice sharp and stern. I hadn’t realized that I’d let go of the talking button and clicked it down again. “Hello? Hello, this is Douglass Three-One-Four-Foxtrot out of Pittsburgh, over.”
An excruciating moment passed, and I continued to zoom over the trees, the fires falling away behind me as more silent forest took over.
“Roger that Douglass Three-One-Four-Foxtrot, we read you loud and clear. Please identify yourself and any passengers or cargo you might be carrying, over.”
Swallowing hard, I eyed the treetops, which looked much closer than they should have been. How far had I descended? “Echo Four Actual, my name is Christopher Dekker, and I am alone. I’m a charter flight from PA, carrying medical equipment for OSU in Columbus. My controls have been damaged, and I am unable to safely carry on due to the storm. Requesting permission to land, over.”
I watched the landscape slide by underneath me, once catching sight of what looked like a little white church surrounded by smaller huts, dozens of figures in the yard staring up at me as I flew over a nearby ridgeline.
“Solid copy on that Douglass Three-One-Four-Foxtrot. Be advised, your transponder shows you to be inside a restricted zone. Please cease all radio traffic, reduce your speed, climb to 3,000 feet and proceed north. We’ll talk you in from there. How copy, over?”
My heart jumped, and I let out a sigh of relief. “Roger that Echo Four Actual, my altimeter is down, but I’ll do my best to eyeball the altitude, over.”
With that, I pulled the collective upward, and tried my best to gauge how far I was by eyesight in the gathering night, rain still coming down all around me. This had to be some kind of disaster or riot, I decided. After all, the voice over the radio sounded like military, and those vehicles seemed to have heavy weapons. Maybe there was some kind of unrest going on here that I hadn’t heard about yet?
Kind of weird for it to happen in rural areas though. Spoiled college kids I get, but never saw farmers get so worked up before. They usually love the military.
Something moved in the corner of my eye, and I turned out of reflex.
My mouth fell open, and I froze, unable to scream.
In the sky beside me, a huge shadow glided along, and its leathery wings effortlessly carved through the gloom, flapping only on occasion to keep it aloft. It was too dark for me to see what color it was, but from the way it moved, I knew it wasn’t another helicopter. No, this thing was alive, easily the size of a small plane, and more than twice the length of my little McDonald Douglass. A long tail trailed behind it, and bore a distinct arrow-shaped snout, with twig-like spines fanned out around the back of its head. Whatever legs it had were drawn up under it like a bird, yet its skin appeared rough and knobby, almost resembling tree bark. Without pause, the gigantic bat-winged entity flew along beside me, as if my presence was on par with an annoying fly buzzing about its head.
Gripping the microphone switch so tight, I thought I’d crack the plastic, I whispered into my headset, forgetting all radio protocol. “T-There’s something up here.”
Static crackled.
“Douglas Three-One-Four-Foxtrot, say again your last, you’re coming in weak and unreadable, over.”
“There’s something up here.” I snarled into the headset, still glued to the controls of the helicopter, afraid to deviate even an inch from my course in case the monstrosity decided to turn on me. “A freaking huge thing, right beside me. I swear, it looks like a bat or . . . I don’t know.”
“Calm down.” The man on the other end of the radio broke his rigorous discipline as well, his voice deep, but level. “It won’t attack if you don’t move too fast. Slowly ease away from it and follow that course until you’re out of sight.”
I didn’t have time to think about how wrong that sounded, how the man’s strict tone had changed to one of knowledge, how he hadn’t been the least surprised by what I’d said. Instead, I slowly turned the helicopter away from the huge menace and edged the speed higher in tiny increments.
As soon as I was roughly two football fields away, I let myself relax, and clicked the mic switch. “It’s not following.”
“You’re sure?”
Eyeing the huge flapping wings, I nodded, then remembered he couldn’t see me. “Yeah, I’m well clear.”
“Good. Thank you, Mr. Dekker.”
Then, the radio went dead.
Something in my chest dropped, a weight that made my stomach roil. This wasn’t right, none of it. Who was that man? Why did he know about the thing I’d just seen? What was I supposed to—
A flash of light exploded from the trees to my right and shot into the air with a long finger of smoke.
What the . . .
On instinct, I jerked the cyclic stick to one side, and the helicopter swung to avoid the rocket.
Boom.
My world shook, metal screeched, and a dozen alarms began to go off inside the cockpit in a cacophony of beeps and sirens. Orange and red flames lit up the night sky just behind me, and the horizon started to spin wildly outside. Heat gushed from the cockpit door, and I smelled the greasy stench of burning oil. The safety belts dug into my shoulders, and with a final slip, the radio headset ripped free from my scalp.
I’m hit.
Desperate, I yanked on the controls, fought the bird even as she spun toward the ground in a wreath of flames, the inky black trees hurtling up to meet me. The helicopter went into full auto-rotation, the sky blurring past outside, and the alarms blared in a screech of doom. Panic slammed through my temples, I screamed at the top of my lungs, and for one brief second, my eyes locked on the little black Garmin still perched atop my control panel.
Its screen stopped twitching and settled on a map of the mysterious Barron County, with a little red arrow at the center of the screen, a few words popping up underneath it.
You are here.
Trees stabbed up into the sky, the belts crushed at my torso, glass shattered all around me, and the world went dark.
Copper, thick, warm, and tangy.
It filled my mouth, stank metallic in my nose, clogged my throat, choking me. In the murkiness, I fought for a surface, for a way out, blind and numb in the dark.
This way, kleineun.
My ouma’s voice echoed from somewhere in the shadows.
This way.
Both eyes flew open, and I gagged, spitting out a stream of red.
Pain throbbed in my ribs, and a heavy pressure sent a tingling numbness through my shoulders. Blood roared inside my temples, and stars danced before my eyes with a dizzying array. Humid night air kissed my skin, and something sticky coated my face, neck, and arms that hung straight up toward the ceiling.
Wait. Not up. Down.
I blinked at the wrinkled, torn ceiling of the cockpit, the glass all gone, the gray aluminum shredded like tissue paper. Just outside the broken windows, thick Appalachian bluegrass and stemmy underbrush swished in a feeble breeze, backlit by flashes of lightning from the thunderstorm overhead. Green and brown leaves covered everything in a wet carpet of triangles, and somewhere nearby, a cricket chirped.
Turning my head from side to side, I realized that I hung upside down inside the ruined helicopter, the top half burrowed into the mud. I could hear the hissing and crackling of flames, the pattering of rain falling on the hot aluminum, and the smaller brush fires around the downed aircraft sizzling out in the damp long grass. Charred steel and burning oil tainted the air, almost as strong as the metallic, coppery stench in my aching nose.
They shot me down. That military dude shot me out of the sky.
It didn’t make sense. I’d followed their orders, done everything they’d said, and yet the instant I veered safely away from whatever that thing in the sky had been, they’d fired, not at it, but at me.
Looking down (or rather, up) at my chest, I sucked in a gasp, which was harder to do that before.
The navy-blue shirt stuck to my torso with several big splotches of dark, rusty red. Most were clean slashes, but two held bits of glass sticking out of them, one alarmingly bigger than the other. They dripped cherry red blood onto my upturned face, and a wave of nausea hit me.
I gotta get down.
I flexed my arms to try and work some feeling back into them, praying nothing was broken. Half-numb from hanging so long, I palmed along my aching body until I felt the buckled for the seat belts.
“Okay.” I hissed between gritted teeth, in an effort to stave off my panic. “You can do this. Just hold on tight. Nice and tight. Here we go . . .”
Click.
Everything seemed to lurch, and I slid off the seat to plummet towards the muck-filled hole in the cockpit ceiling. My fingers were slick with blood and slipped over the smooth faux-leather pilot’s seat with ease. The shoulder belt snagged on the bits of glass that lay just under the left lowest rib, and a flare of white-hot pain ripped through me.
Wham.
I screamed, my right knee caught the edge of the aluminum ceiling, and both hands dove into a mound of leaf-covered glass shards on the opposite side of the hole. My head swam, being right-side-up again enough to make shadows gnaw at the corner of my eyes.
Forcing myself to breath slowly, I fought the urge to faint and slid back to sit on the smooth ceiling. I turned my hands over to see half a dozen bits of clear glass burrowed into my skin like greedy parasites, red blood weeping around the new cuts.
“Screw you.” I spat at the rubbish with angry tears in my eyes. “Screw you, screw you, screw you.”
The shards came out easy enough, and the cuts weren’t that deep, but that wasn’t what worried me. On my chest, the single piece of cockpit glass that remined was almost as big as my palm, and it really hurt. Just touching it felt like self-inflicted torture, but I knew it had to come out sooner or later.
Please don’t nick a vein.
Wiping my hands dry on my jeans, I gripped the shard with both hands, and jerked.
Fire roared over my ribs, and hot blood tickled my already grimy pale skin. I clapped a hand over the wound, pressing down hard, and grunted out a string of hateful expletives that my ouma would have slapped me for.
Lying on my back, I stared around me at the messy cargo compartment of the MD-902. Most of the medical supplies had been in cardboard boxes strapped down with heavy nylon tow-straps, but several cases had ruptured with the force of the impact, spraying bandages, syringes, and pill bottles all over the cluttered interior. Orange flames chewed at the crate furthest to the rear, the tail section long gone, but the foremost part of the hold was intact. Easily a million-dollar mess, it would have made me faint on any other trip, but today it was a godsend.
Half-blind in the darkness, I crawled along with only the firelight and lightning bolts to guide me, my right knee aching. Like a crippled raccoon, I collected things as I went, conscious of the two pallets of intact supplies weighing right over my head. I’d taken several different first-aid courses with some hunting buddies of mine, and the mental reflexes kicked in to help soothe my frazzled mind.
Check for bleeds, stop the worst, then move on.
Aside from my battered chest and stomach, the rest of me remained mostly unharmed. I had nasty bruises from the seatbelts, my right knee swelled, my nose slightly crooked and crusted in blood, but otherwise I was intact. Dowsing every scratch and cut with a bottle of isopropyl alcohol I found, I used butterfly closures on the smaller lacerations that peppered my skin. I wrapped soft white gauze over my abused palms and probed at the big cut where the last shard had been, only stopping when I was sure there were no pieces of glass wedged inside my flesh.
“Not too bad.” I grunted to myself, trying to sound impassive like a doctor might. “Rib must have stopped it. Gonna need stitches though. That’ll be fun.”
Pawing through the broken cases, I couldn’t find any suture chord, but just as I was about to give up, I noticed a small box that read ‘medical skin stapler’.
Bingo.
I tore the small white plastic stapler free from its packaging and eyeballed the device. I’d never done this before, only seen it in movies, and even though the cut in my skin hurt, I wondered if this wouldn’t be worse.
You’ve gotta do it. That bleeding needs to stop. Besides, no one’s coming to rescue you, not with those rocket-launching psychos out there.
Taking a deep breath, I pinched the skin around the gash together, and pressed the mouth of the stapler to it.
Click.
A sharp sting, like that of a needle bit at the skin, but it didn’t hurt nearly as bad as the cut itself. I worked my way across the two-inch laceration and gave out a sigh of relief when it was done.
“Not going to bleed to death today.” I daubed ointment around the staples before winding more bandages over the wound.
Popping a few low-grade painkillers that tumbled from the cargo, I crawled wriggled through the nearest shattered window into the wet grass.
Raindrops kissed my face, clean and cool on my sweaty skin. Despite the thick cloud cover, there was enough constant lightning strikes within the storm to let me get glimpses of the world around me. My helicopter lay on its back, the blades snapped like pencils, with bits and pieces of it burning in chunks all around the small break in the trees. Chest-high scrub brush grew all around the low-lying ground, with pockets of standing water in places. My ears still rang from the impact of the crash, but I could start to pick up more crickets, frogs, and even some nocturnal birds singing into the darkness, like they didn’t notice the huge the hulk of flaming metal that had fallen from the sky. Overhead, the thunder rumbled onward, the feeble wind whistling, and there were other flashes on the horizon, orange and red ones, with crackles that didn’t sound quite like lightning.
The guns. They’re still fighting.
Instinctively, I pulled out my cellphone, and tapped the screen.
It fluttered to life, but no matter how I tried, I couldn’t get through to anyone, not even with the emergency function designed to work around having no service. The complicated wonder of our modern world was little better than a glorified paperweight.
Stunned, I sat down with my back to the helicopter and rested my head against the aluminum skin of the craft. How I’d gone from a regular medical supply run to being marooned in this hellish parody of rural America, I didn’t know, but one thig was certain; I needed a plan. Whoever fired the missile could have already contacted my charter company and made up some excuse to keep them from coming to look for me. No one else knew I was here, and even though I now had six staples holding the worst of my injuries shut, I knew I needed proper medical attention. If I wanted to live, I’d have to rescue myself.
My bag. I need to get my go-bag, grab some gear and then . . . head somewhere else.
It took me a while to gather my green canvas paratrooper bag from its place behind the pilot’s seat and fill it with whatever supplies I could scrounge. My knee didn’t seem to be broken, but man did it hurt, and I dreaded the thought of walking on it for miles on end. I focused instead on inventorying my gear and trying to come up with a halfway intelligent plan of action.
I had a stainless-steel canteen with one of those detachable cups on the bottom, a little fishing kit, some duct tape, a lighter, a black LED flashlight with three spare batteries, a few tattered road maps with a compass, a spare pair of socks, medical supplies from the cargo, and a simple forest green plastic rain poncho. I also managed to unearth a functioning digital camcorder my ouma had gotten me for Christmas a few years back, though I wasn’t sure I wanted to do any filming in such a miserable state. Lastly, since it was a private supply run from a warehouse area near Pittsburgh to a direct hospital pad in Ohio, I’d been able to bring my K-Bar, a sturdy, and brutally simple knife designed for the Marine Corps that I used every time I went camping. It was pitiful in comparison to the rifle I wished I had with me, but that didn’t matter now. I had what I had, and I doubted my trusty Armalite would have alleviated my sore knee anyway.
Clicking on my flashlight, I huddled with the poncho around my shoulders inside the wreck of the chopper and peered at the dusty roadmaps. A small part of me hoped that a solution would jump out from the faded paper, but none came. These were all maps of western PA and eastern Ohio. None of them had a Barron County on them anywhere.
The man on the radio said to head north, right before they shot me down. That means they must be camped out to the north of here. South had that convoy and those burning houses, so that’s a no-go. Maybe I can backtrack eastward the way I came.
As if on cue, a soft pop echoed from over the eastern horizon, and I craned to look out the helicopter window, spotting more man-made flashes over the tree tops.
“Great.” I hissed between clenched teeth, aware of how the temperature dipped to a chilly 60 degrees, and how despite the conditions, my stomach had begun to growl. “Not going that way, are we? Westward it is.”
Walking away from my poor 902 proved to be harder than I’d anticipated. Despite the glass, the fizzling fires, and the darkness, it still held a familiar, human essence to it. Sitting inside it made me feel secure, safe, even calm about the situation. In any other circumstance, I would have just stayed with the downed aircraft to wait for help, but I knew the men who shot me down would likely find my crash site, and I didn’t want to be around when they did.
Unlike much of central and western Ohio, southeastern Ohio is hilly, brushy, and clogged with thick forests. Thorns snagged at my thin poncho and sliced at my pant legs. My knee throbbed, every step a form of self-inflicted torture. The rain never stopped, a steady drizzle from above just cold enough to be problematic as time went on, making me shiver. Mud slid under my tennis shoes, and every tree looked ten times bigger in the flickering beam of my cheap flashlight. Icy fear prickled at the back of my neck at some of the sounds that greeted me through the gloom. I’d been camping loads of times, both in Pennsylvania and elsewhere, but these noises were something otherworldly to me.
Strange howls, screeches, and calls permeated the rain-soaked sky, some almost roars, while others bordered on human in their intonation. The more I walked, the softer the distant gunfire became, and the more prevalent the odd sounds, until the shadows seemed to fill with them. I didn’t dare turn off my flashlight, or I’d been completely blind in the dark, but a little voice in the back of my head screamed that I was too visible, crunching through the gloomy forest with my long beam of light stabbing into the abyss. It felt as though a million eyes were on me, studying me, hunting me from the surrounding brush, and I bitterly recalled how much I’d loved the old Survivor Man TV series as a kid.
Not so fun being out in the woods at night. Especially alone.
A twig snapped somewhere behind me, and I whirled on the spot, one trembling hand resting on the hilt of my K-Bar.
Nothing. Nothing but trees, bushes, and rain dripping down in the darkness.
“This is stupid.” I whispered to myself to keep my nerves in check as I slowly spun on the spot. “I should have went eastward anyway. God knows how long I’m going to have to—”
Creak.
A groan of metal-on-metal echoed from somewhere to my right, and I spun to face it, yanking the knife on my belt free from its scabbard. It felt so small and useless in my hand, and I choked down a wave of nauseas fear.
Ka-whump. Creak. K-whump. Creak.
Underbrush cracked and crunched, a few smaller saplings thrashed, and from deep within the gloom, two yellow orbs flared to life. They poked through the mist in the trees, forming into slender fingers of golden light that swept back and forth in the dark.
The soldiers . . . they must be looking for me.
I swallowed hard and turned to slink away.
Ice jammed through my blood, and I froze on the spot, biting my tongue to stop the scream.
It stood not yards away, a huge form that towered a good twelve feet tall in the swirling shadows. Unpolished chrome blended with flash-rusted spots in the faded red paint, and grime-smeared glass shone with dull hues in the flashes of lightning. Where the wheels should have been, the rounded steel axels curved like some enormous hand had bent them, and the tires lay face-down on the muddy ground like big round feet, their hubcaps buried in the dirt. Dents, scrapes, and chips covered the battered thing, and its crooked little radio antenna pointed straight up from the old metal fender like a mast. I could barely make out the mud-coated VW on the rounded hood, and my mind reeled in shock.
Is . . . is that a car?
Both yellow headlights bathed me in a circle of bright, blinding light, and neither I nor the strange vehicle moved.
Seconds ticked by, the screech-thumping in the background only growing closer. I realized that I couldn’t hear any engine noises and had yet to see any soldiers or guns pointed my way. This car looked old, really old, like one of those classic Volkswagen Beetles that collectors fought over at auctions. Try as I might, I couldn’t see a driver inside the murky, mold-smeared windows.
Because there wasn’t one.
Lightning arched across the sky overhead, and the car standing in front of me blinked.
Its headlights slid shut, as if little metal shades had crawled over the bulbs for a moment and flicked open again. Something about that movement was so primal, so real, so lifelike, that every ounce of self-control I had melted in an instant.
Cursing under my breath, I lunged into the shrubs, and the world erupted around me.
Under my shoes, the ground shook, and the car surged after me in a cacophony of ka-thumps that made my already racing heart skip several beats. A weather-beaten brown tow truck from the 50’s charged through the thorns to my left, it’s headlights ablaze, and a dilapidated yellow school bus rose from its hiding place in the weeds to stand tall on four down-turned axel-legs. They all flicked their headlights on like giants waking from their slumber, and as I dodged past them, they each blared their horn into the night in alarm.
My breaths came short and tight, my knee burned, and I crashed through thorns and briars without thought to how badly I was getting cut up.
The cheap poncho tore, and I ripped it away as it caught on a tree branch.
A purple 70’s Mustang shook off its blanket of creeping vines and bounded from a stand of trees just ahead, forcing me to swerve to avoid being run over, my adrenaline at all-time highs.
This can’t be happening, this can’t be happening, this can’t be happening.
Slipping and sliding, I pushed through a stand of multiflora rose, and stumbled out into a flat, dark expanse.
I almost skidded to a stop.
What had once been a rather large field stood no taller than my shoestrings, the grass charred, and burnt. The storm above illuminated huge pieces of wreckage that lay scattered over the nearly 40-acre plot, and I could just make out the fire-blackened hulk of a fuselage resting a hundred yards away. The plane had been brought down a while ago it seemed, as there weren’t any flames left burning, and I threw myself toward it in frenzied desperation.
Burned grass and greasy brown topsoil slushed underfoot, and I could hear the squelching of the cars pursing me. Rain soaked me to the bone, and my lungs ached from sucking down the damp night air. A painful stich crept into my side, and I cursed myself for not putting in more time for cardio at the gym.
Something caught my left shoelace, and I hurtled to the ground, tasting mud and blood in between my teeth.
They’ve got me now.
I clawed at the mud, rolled, and watched a tire slam down mere inches from where my head had been. The Mustang loomed over me and jostled for position with the red Volkswagen and brown tow truck, the school bus still a few yards behind them. They couldn’t seem to decide who would get the pleasure of stomping me to death, and like a herd of stampeding wildebeest, they locked bumpers in an epic shoving match.
On all fours, I scampered out from under the sparring brutes, and dashed for the crumpled airplane, a white-painted DC-3 that looked like it had been cut in half by a gargantuan knife blade. I passed a snapped wing section, the oily remains of a turbo-prop engine, and a mutilated wheel from the landing gear. Climbing over a heap of mud, I squeezed into the back of the ruined flight cabin and dropped down into the dark cargo hold.
Wham.
No sooner had my sneakers hit the cold metal floor, and the entire plane rocked from the impact of something heavy ramming it just outside. I tumbled to my knees, screaming in pain as, once again, I managed to bash the sore one off a bracket in the wall.
My hand smeared in something gooey, and I scrabbled for my flashlight.
It clicked on, a wavering ball of white light in the pitch darkness, and I fought the urge to gag. “Oh man . . .”
Three people, or what was left of them, lay strewn over the narrow cargo area. Claret red blood coated the walls, caked on the floor, and clotted under my mud-spattered shoes. Bits of flesh and viscera were stuck to everything, and tatters of cloth hung from exposed sections of broken bone. An eerie set of bloody handprints adorned the walls, and the only reason I could tell it had been three people were the shoes; all of them bore anklebones sticking out above blood-soaked socks. It smelled sickly sweet, a strange, nauseas odor that crept into my nose and settled on the back of my tongue like an alien parasite.
Something glinted in the beam of my flashlight, and my pulse quickened as I pried the object loose from the severed arm that still clung to it.
“Hail Mary full of Grace.” I would have grinned if it weren’t for the fact that the plane continued to buck and roll under the assault from the cars outside.
The pistol looked old, but well-maintained, aside from the light coating of dark blood that stained its round wooden handle. It felt heavy, but good in my hand, and I turned it over to read the words, Waffenfabrik Mauser stenciled into the frame, with a large red 9 carved into the grip. For some reason, it vaguely reminded me of the blasters from Star Wars.
I fumbled with a little switch that looked like a safety on the back of the gun and stumbled toward a gap in the plane’s dented fuselage to aim out at the surrounding headlights.
Bang.
The old gun bucked reliably in my hand, its long barrel spitting a little jet of flame into the night. I had no idea if I hit anything, but the attacking cars recoiled, their horns blaring in confusion.
They turned, and scuttled for the tree line as fast as their mechanical legs could go, the entire ordeal over as fast as it had begun.
Did I do that?
Perplexed, I stared down at the pistol in my hand.
Whoosh.
A large, inky black shadow glided down from the clouds, and the yellow school bus moved too slow to react in time.
With a crash, the kicking nightmarish vehicle was thrown onto its side, spraying glass and chrome trim across the muddy field. Its electro-synth horn blared with wails of mechanical agony, as two huge talon-like feet clamped down on it, and the enormous head of the flying creature lowered to rip open its engine compartment.
The horn cut out, and the enormous flying entity jerked its head back to gulp down a mass of what looked like sticky black vines from the interior of the shattered bus.
At this range, I could see now that the flying creature bore two legs and had its wings half-tucked like a vulture that had descended to feed on roadkill. Its head turned slightly, and in the glow of another lightning bolt, my jaw went slack at the realization of what it was.
A tree trunk. It’s a rotted tree trunk.
I couldn’t tell where the reptilian beast began, and where the organic tree components ended, the upper part of the head shaped like a log, while the lower jaw resembled something out of a dinosaur movie. Its skin looked identical to the outside of a shagbark hickory but flexed with a supple featheriness that denoted something closer to skin. Sharp branch-like spines ranged down its back, and out to the end of its tail, which bore a massive round club shaped like a diseased tree-knot. Crouched on both hind legs, it braced the hooked ends of its folded wings against the ground like a bat, towering higher than a semi-truck. Under the folds of its armored head, a bulging pair of chameleon-like eyes constantly spun in their sockets, probing the dark for threats while it ate.
One black pupil locked onto the window I peered through, and my heart stopped.
The beast regarded me for a moment, making a curious, sideways sniff.
With a proud, contemptful head-toss, the shadow from the sky parted rows of razor-sharp teeth to let out a roar that shook the earth beneath my feet. It was the triumphant war cry of a creature that sat at the very top of the food chain, one that felt no threat from the fragile two-legged beings that walked the earth all around it. It hunted whenever it wanted, ate whatever it wanted, and flew wherever it wanted. It didn’t need to rip the plane apart to devour me.
Like my hunter-gatherer ancestors from thousands of years ago, I wasn’t even worth the energy it would take to pounce.
I’m hiding in the remains of the cockpit now, which is half-buried under the mud of the field, enough to shield the light from my screen so that thing doesn’t see it. My service only now came back, and it’s been over an hour since the winged beast started in on the dead bus. I don’t know when, or how I’m going to get out of here. I don’t know when anyone will even see this post, or if it will upload at all. My phone battery is almost dead, and at this point, I’m probably going to have to sleep among the corpses until daylight comes.
A dead man sleeping amongst friends.
If you live in the Noble County area in southeastern Ohio, be careful where you drive, fly, and boat. I don’t know if it’s possible to stumble into this strange place by ground, but if so, then these things are definitely headed your way.
If that happens . . . pray that they don’t find you.
submitted by RandomAppalachian468 to nosleep [link] [comments]
From 5,000 feet, the ground flew by in a carpet of dark forests and kelly-green fields. The sun hung low on the horizon in a picturesque array of dazzling orange and gold, and I could make out the narrow strip of the Ohio River to my left, glistening in the fading daylight. This time of year, the trees would be full of the sweet aroma of fresh blossoms, and the frequent rains kept small pockets of fluffy white mist hanging in the treetops. It was a beautiful view, one that reminded me of why being a helicopter pilot trumped flying in a jumbo jet far above the clouds every day of the week.
Fourteen more days, and I’m debt free.
That made me grin even more. I’d been working as a charter pilot ever since I obtained my license at age 19, and after years of keeping my nose to the grindstone, I was closing on the final payment for real-estate in western Pennsylvania. With no debt, a fixer-upper house on 30 rural acres all to myself, and a respectable wage for a 26-year-old pilot, I looked forward to the financial freedom I could now enjoy. Maybe I’d take a vacation, somewhere exotic like Venice Italy, or the Dominican Republic. Or perhaps I’d sock the money back for the day I started a family.
“Remember kleineun, a real man looks after his own.”
My elderly ouma’s voice came back from the depths of my memories, her proud, sun-tanned face rising from the darkness. She and my Rhodesian grandfather had emigrated to the US when they were newlyweds, as the violence against white Boer descendants in South Africa spiraled out of control. My mother and father both died in a car crash when I was six, and it had been my grandparents who raised me. Due to this, I’d grown up with a slight accent that many of my classmates found amusing, and I could speak both English, and Afrikaans, the Boer tongue of our former home.
I shifted in my seat, stretched my back muscles, and glanced at the picture taped to my console. Both my parents flanked a grinning, gap-toothed six-year-old me, at the last Christmas we’d spent together. My mother beamed, her dark hair and Italian features a sharp contrast to my father’s sandy blonde hair and blue eyes. Sometimes, I liked to imagine they were smiling at me with pride at how well I flew the old silver-colored bird my company had assigned to me, and that made the long, lonely flights easier to bear.
A flicker caught my eye, and I broke my gaze away from the photograph.
Perched in its small cradle above the controls, my little black Garmin fuzzed over for a few seconds, its screen shifting from brightly colored maps to a barrage of grey static.
Did the power chord come loose?
I checked, ensuring the power-cable for the unit’s battery was plugged into the port on the control panel. It was a brand-new GPS unit, and I’d used it a few times already, so I knew it wasn’t defective. Granted, I could fly and navigate without it, but the Garmin made my time as a pilot so much easier that the thought of going blind was dreadful.
My fuel gauge danced, clicked to empty, then to full, in a bizarre jolt.
More of the gauges began to stutter, the entire panel seeming to develop terrets all at once, and my pulse began to race. Something was wrong, very wrong, and the sludge inside my bowels churned with sour fear.
“Come on, come on.” I flicked switches, turned dials, punched buttons, but nothing seemed to fix the spasming electronics. Every gauge failed, and without warning, I found myself plunged into inky darkness.
Outside, the sun surrendered to the pull of night, the sky darker than usual. A distant rumble of thunder reverberated above the roar of my helicopter’s engine, and I thought I glimpsed a streak of yellowish lightning on the far horizon to my left.
Calm down Chris. We’re still flying, so it must just be a blown fuse. Stay in control and find a place to set her down.
My sweaty palm slid on the cyclic stick, and both feet weighed heavy on the yaw pedals. The collective stuck to my other hand with a nervous vibration, and I squinted against the abyss outside.
Beep.
I jumped despite myself, as the little Garmin on my panel flared back to life, the static pulling aside to reveal a twitching display. Each time the screen glitched, it showed the colorful map detailing my flight path over the ground below, but I noticed that some of the lines changed, the names shifting, as if the device couldn’t decide between two different versions of the world.
One name jutted out at me, slate gray like most of the major county names, appearing with ghostly flickers from between two neighboring ones.
Barron County.
I stared, confused. I’d flown over this section of southeastern Ohio plenty of times, and I knew the counties by heart. At this point, I should have been over the southern end of Noble County, and maybe dipping lower into Washington. There was no Barron County in Ohio. I was sure of it.
And yet it shown back at me from the digital landscape, a strange, almost cigar-shaped chunk of terrain carved from the surrounding counties like a tumor, sometimes there, sometimes not, as my little Garmin struggled to find the correct map. Rain began to patter against my cockpit window, and the entire aircraft rattled from a strong gust of wind. Thick clouds closed over my field of vision like a sea of gray cotton.
The blood in my veins turned to ice, and I sucked in a nervous breath.
Land. I had to land. There was nothing else to do, my flight controls weren’t responding, and only my Garmin had managed to come back to life. Perhaps I’d been hit by lightning, and the electronics had been fried? Either way, it was too dark to tell, but a storm seemed to be brewing, and if I didn’t get my feet on the ground soon, I could be in real trouble.
“Better safe than sorry.” I pushed down on the collective to start my slow descent and clicked the talking button for my headset. “Any station, this is Douglass Three-One-Four-Foxtrot, over.”
Nothing.
“Any station, this is Douglass Three-One-Four-Foxtrot, requesting emergency assistance, over.”
Still nothing.
If the radio’s dead, I’m really up a creek.
With my hand shaking, I clicked on the mic one more time. “Any station, this is—”
Like a curtain pulling back, the fog cleared from around my window, and the words stuck in my throat.
Without my gauges, I couldn’t tell just how far I’d descended, but I was definitely very low. Thick trees poked up from the ground, and the hills rolled into high ridges with flat valley floors, fields and pastures pockmarking them. Rain fell all around in cold, silvery sheets, a normal feature for the mid spring in this part of Ohio.
What wasn’t normal, were the fires.
At first, I thought they were forest fires for the amount of smoke and flames that bellowed from each spot, but as I swooped lower, my eyes widened in horror.
They were houses.
Farms, cottages, little clusters that barely constituted villages, all of them belched orange flames and black pillars of sooty smoke. I couldn’t hear above the helicopter blades, but I could see the flashes on the ground, along the road, in between the trees, and even coming from the burning buildings, little jets of golden light that spat into the darkness with anger.
Gunfire. That’s rifle fire, a whole lot of it.
Tiny black figures darted through the shadows, barely discernable from where I sat, several hundred feet up. I couldn’t see much, but some were definitely running away, the streaks of yellow gunfire chasing them. A few dark gray vehicles rumbled down one of the gravel roads, and sprayed fire into the houses as it went. They were fighting, I realized, the people in the trucks and the locals. It was horrific, like something out of war-torn Afghanistan, but worse.
Then, I caught a glimpse of the others.
They didn’t move like the rest, who either fled from the dark vehicles, or fired back from behind cover. These skinny figures loped along with haphazard gaits, many running on all fours like animals, swarming from the trees by the dozens. They threw themselves into the gales of bullets without flinching, attacking anyone within range, and something about the way they moved, so fluid, so fearless, made my heart skip a beat.
What is that?
“Echo Four Actual to unknown caller, please respond, over.”
Choking back a cry of shock, I fumbled at the control panel with clumsy fingers, the man’s voice sharp and stern. I hadn’t realized that I’d let go of the talking button and clicked it down again. “Hello? Hello, this is Douglass Three-One-Four-Foxtrot out of Pittsburgh, over.”
An excruciating moment passed, and I continued to zoom over the trees, the fires falling away behind me as more silent forest took over.
“Roger that Douglass Three-One-Four-Foxtrot, we read you loud and clear. Please identify yourself and any passengers or cargo you might be carrying, over.”
Swallowing hard, I eyed the treetops, which looked much closer than they should have been. How far had I descended? “Echo Four Actual, my name is Christopher Dekker, and I am alone. I’m a charter flight from PA, carrying medical equipment for OSU in Columbus. My controls have been damaged, and I am unable to safely carry on due to the storm. Requesting permission to land, over.”
I watched the landscape slide by underneath me, once catching sight of what looked like a little white church surrounded by smaller huts, dozens of figures in the yard staring up at me as I flew over a nearby ridgeline.
“Solid copy on that Douglass Three-One-Four-Foxtrot. Be advised, your transponder shows you to be inside a restricted zone. Please cease all radio traffic, reduce your speed, climb to 3,000 feet and proceed north. We’ll talk you in from there. How copy, over?”
My heart jumped, and I let out a sigh of relief. “Roger that Echo Four Actual, my altimeter is down, but I’ll do my best to eyeball the altitude, over.”
With that, I pulled the collective upward, and tried my best to gauge how far I was by eyesight in the gathering night, rain still coming down all around me. This had to be some kind of disaster or riot, I decided. After all, the voice over the radio sounded like military, and those vehicles seemed to have heavy weapons. Maybe there was some kind of unrest going on here that I hadn’t heard about yet?
Kind of weird for it to happen in rural areas though. Spoiled college kids I get, but never saw farmers get so worked up before. They usually love the military.
Something moved in the corner of my eye, and I turned out of reflex.
My mouth fell open, and I froze, unable to scream.
In the sky beside me, a huge shadow glided along, and its leathery wings effortlessly carved through the gloom, flapping only on occasion to keep it aloft. It was too dark for me to see what color it was, but from the way it moved, I knew it wasn’t another helicopter. No, this thing was alive, easily the size of a small plane, and more than twice the length of my little McDonald Douglass. A long tail trailed behind it, and bore a distinct arrow-shaped snout, with twig-like spines fanned out around the back of its head. Whatever legs it had were drawn up under it like a bird, yet its skin appeared rough and knobby, almost resembling tree bark. Without pause, the gigantic bat-winged entity flew along beside me, as if my presence was on par with an annoying fly buzzing about its head.
Gripping the microphone switch so tight, I thought I’d crack the plastic, I whispered into my headset, forgetting all radio protocol. “T-There’s something up here.”
Static crackled.
“Douglas Three-One-Four-Foxtrot, say again your last, you’re coming in weak and unreadable, over.”
“There’s something up here.” I snarled into the headset, still glued to the controls of the helicopter, afraid to deviate even an inch from my course in case the monstrosity decided to turn on me. “A freaking huge thing, right beside me. I swear, it looks like a bat or . . . I don’t know.”
“Calm down.” The man on the other end of the radio broke his rigorous discipline as well, his voice deep, but level. “It won’t attack if you don’t move too fast. Slowly ease away from it and follow that course until you’re out of sight.”
I didn’t have time to think about how wrong that sounded, how the man’s strict tone had changed to one of knowledge, how he hadn’t been the least surprised by what I’d said. Instead, I slowly turned the helicopter away from the huge menace and edged the speed higher in tiny increments.
As soon as I was roughly two football fields away, I let myself relax, and clicked the mic switch. “It’s not following.”
“You’re sure?”
Eyeing the huge flapping wings, I nodded, then remembered he couldn’t see me. “Yeah, I’m well clear.”
“Good. Thank you, Mr. Dekker.”
Then, the radio went dead.
Something in my chest dropped, a weight that made my stomach roil. This wasn’t right, none of it. Who was that man? Why did he know about the thing I’d just seen? What was I supposed to—
A flash of light exploded from the trees to my right and shot into the air with a long finger of smoke.
What the . . .
On instinct, I jerked the cyclic stick to one side, and the helicopter swung to avoid the rocket.
Boom.
My world shook, metal screeched, and a dozen alarms began to go off inside the cockpit in a cacophony of beeps and sirens. Orange and red flames lit up the night sky just behind me, and the horizon started to spin wildly outside. Heat gushed from the cockpit door, and I smelled the greasy stench of burning oil. The safety belts dug into my shoulders, and with a final slip, the radio headset ripped free from my scalp.
I’m hit.
Desperate, I yanked on the controls, fought the bird even as she spun toward the ground in a wreath of flames, the inky black trees hurtling up to meet me. The helicopter went into full auto-rotation, the sky blurring past outside, and the alarms blared in a screech of doom. Panic slammed through my temples, I screamed at the top of my lungs, and for one brief second, my eyes locked on the little black Garmin still perched atop my control panel.
Its screen stopped twitching and settled on a map of the mysterious Barron County, with a little red arrow at the center of the screen, a few words popping up underneath it.
You are here.
Trees stabbed up into the sky, the belts crushed at my torso, glass shattered all around me, and the world went dark.
Copper, thick, warm, and tangy.
It filled my mouth, stank metallic in my nose, clogged my throat, choking me. In the murkiness, I fought for a surface, for a way out, blind and numb in the dark.
This way, kleineun.
My ouma’s voice echoed from somewhere in the shadows.
This way.
Both eyes flew open, and I gagged, spitting out a stream of red.
Pain throbbed in my ribs, and a heavy pressure sent a tingling numbness through my shoulders. Blood roared inside my temples, and stars danced before my eyes with a dizzying array. Humid night air kissed my skin, and something sticky coated my face, neck, and arms that hung straight up toward the ceiling.
Wait. Not up. Down.
I blinked at the wrinkled, torn ceiling of the cockpit, the glass all gone, the gray aluminum shredded like tissue paper. Just outside the broken windows, thick Appalachian bluegrass and stemmy underbrush swished in a feeble breeze, backlit by flashes of lightning from the thunderstorm overhead. Green and brown leaves covered everything in a wet carpet of triangles, and somewhere nearby, a cricket chirped.
Turning my head from side to side, I realized that I hung upside down inside the ruined helicopter, the top half burrowed into the mud. I could hear the hissing and crackling of flames, the pattering of rain falling on the hot aluminum, and the smaller brush fires around the downed aircraft sizzling out in the damp long grass. Charred steel and burning oil tainted the air, almost as strong as the metallic, coppery stench in my aching nose.
They shot me down. That military dude shot me out of the sky.
It didn’t make sense. I’d followed their orders, done everything they’d said, and yet the instant I veered safely away from whatever that thing in the sky had been, they’d fired, not at it, but at me.
Looking down (or rather, up) at my chest, I sucked in a gasp, which was harder to do that before.
The navy-blue shirt stuck to my torso with several big splotches of dark, rusty red. Most were clean slashes, but two held bits of glass sticking out of them, one alarmingly bigger than the other. They dripped cherry red blood onto my upturned face, and a wave of nausea hit me.
I gotta get down.
I flexed my arms to try and work some feeling back into them, praying nothing was broken. Half-numb from hanging so long, I palmed along my aching body until I felt the buckled for the seat belts.
“Okay.” I hissed between gritted teeth, in an effort to stave off my panic. “You can do this. Just hold on tight. Nice and tight. Here we go . . .”
Click.
Everything seemed to lurch, and I slid off the seat to plummet towards the muck-filled hole in the cockpit ceiling. My fingers were slick with blood and slipped over the smooth faux-leather pilot’s seat with ease. The shoulder belt snagged on the bits of glass that lay just under the left lowest rib, and a flare of white-hot pain ripped through me.
Wham.
I screamed, my right knee caught the edge of the aluminum ceiling, and both hands dove into a mound of leaf-covered glass shards on the opposite side of the hole. My head swam, being right-side-up again enough to make shadows gnaw at the corner of my eyes.
Forcing myself to breath slowly, I fought the urge to faint and slid back to sit on the smooth ceiling. I turned my hands over to see half a dozen bits of clear glass burrowed into my skin like greedy parasites, red blood weeping around the new cuts.
“Screw you.” I spat at the rubbish with angry tears in my eyes. “Screw you, screw you, screw you.”
The shards came out easy enough, and the cuts weren’t that deep, but that wasn’t what worried me. On my chest, the single piece of cockpit glass that remined was almost as big as my palm, and it really hurt. Just touching it felt like self-inflicted torture, but I knew it had to come out sooner or later.
Please don’t nick a vein.
Wiping my hands dry on my jeans, I gripped the shard with both hands, and jerked.
Fire roared over my ribs, and hot blood tickled my already grimy pale skin. I clapped a hand over the wound, pressing down hard, and grunted out a string of hateful expletives that my ouma would have slapped me for.
Lying on my back, I stared around me at the messy cargo compartment of the MD-902. Most of the medical supplies had been in cardboard boxes strapped down with heavy nylon tow-straps, but several cases had ruptured with the force of the impact, spraying bandages, syringes, and pill bottles all over the cluttered interior. Orange flames chewed at the crate furthest to the rear, the tail section long gone, but the foremost part of the hold was intact. Easily a million-dollar mess, it would have made me faint on any other trip, but today it was a godsend.
Half-blind in the darkness, I crawled along with only the firelight and lightning bolts to guide me, my right knee aching. Like a crippled raccoon, I collected things as I went, conscious of the two pallets of intact supplies weighing right over my head. I’d taken several different first-aid courses with some hunting buddies of mine, and the mental reflexes kicked in to help soothe my frazzled mind.
Check for bleeds, stop the worst, then move on.
Aside from my battered chest and stomach, the rest of me remained mostly unharmed. I had nasty bruises from the seatbelts, my right knee swelled, my nose slightly crooked and crusted in blood, but otherwise I was intact. Dowsing every scratch and cut with a bottle of isopropyl alcohol I found, I used butterfly closures on the smaller lacerations that peppered my skin. I wrapped soft white gauze over my abused palms and probed at the big cut where the last shard had been, only stopping when I was sure there were no pieces of glass wedged inside my flesh.
“Not too bad.” I grunted to myself, trying to sound impassive like a doctor might. “Rib must have stopped it. Gonna need stitches though. That’ll be fun.”
Pawing through the broken cases, I couldn’t find any suture chord, but just as I was about to give up, I noticed a small box that read ‘medical skin stapler’.
Bingo.
I tore the small white plastic stapler free from its packaging and eyeballed the device. I’d never done this before, only seen it in movies, and even though the cut in my skin hurt, I wondered if this wouldn’t be worse.
You’ve gotta do it. That bleeding needs to stop. Besides, no one’s coming to rescue you, not with those rocket-launching psychos out there.
Taking a deep breath, I pinched the skin around the gash together, and pressed the mouth of the stapler to it.
Click.
A sharp sting, like that of a needle bit at the skin, but it didn’t hurt nearly as bad as the cut itself. I worked my way across the two-inch laceration and gave out a sigh of relief when it was done.
“Not going to bleed to death today.” I daubed ointment around the staples before winding more bandages over the wound.
Popping a few low-grade painkillers that tumbled from the cargo, I crawled wriggled through the nearest shattered window into the wet grass.
Raindrops kissed my face, clean and cool on my sweaty skin. Despite the thick cloud cover, there was enough constant lightning strikes within the storm to let me get glimpses of the world around me. My helicopter lay on its back, the blades snapped like pencils, with bits and pieces of it burning in chunks all around the small break in the trees. Chest-high scrub brush grew all around the low-lying ground, with pockets of standing water in places. My ears still rang from the impact of the crash, but I could start to pick up more crickets, frogs, and even some nocturnal birds singing into the darkness, like they didn’t notice the huge the hulk of flaming metal that had fallen from the sky. Overhead, the thunder rumbled onward, the feeble wind whistling, and there were other flashes on the horizon, orange and red ones, with crackles that didn’t sound quite like lightning.
The guns. They’re still fighting.
Instinctively, I pulled out my cellphone, and tapped the screen.
It fluttered to life, but no matter how I tried, I couldn’t get through to anyone, not even with the emergency function designed to work around having no service. The complicated wonder of our modern world was little better than a glorified paperweight.
Stunned, I sat down with my back to the helicopter and rested my head against the aluminum skin of the craft. How I’d gone from a regular medical supply run to being marooned in this hellish parody of rural America, I didn’t know, but one thig was certain; I needed a plan. Whoever fired the missile could have already contacted my charter company and made up some excuse to keep them from coming to look for me. No one else knew I was here, and even though I now had six staples holding the worst of my injuries shut, I knew I needed proper medical attention. If I wanted to live, I’d have to rescue myself.
My bag. I need to get my go-bag, grab some gear and then . . . head somewhere else.
It took me a while to gather my green canvas paratrooper bag from its place behind the pilot’s seat and fill it with whatever supplies I could scrounge. My knee didn’t seem to be broken, but man did it hurt, and I dreaded the thought of walking on it for miles on end. I focused instead on inventorying my gear and trying to come up with a halfway intelligent plan of action.
I had a stainless-steel canteen with one of those detachable cups on the bottom, a little fishing kit, some duct tape, a lighter, a black LED flashlight with three spare batteries, a few tattered road maps with a compass, a spare pair of socks, medical supplies from the cargo, and a simple forest green plastic rain poncho. I also managed to unearth a functioning digital camcorder my ouma had gotten me for Christmas a few years back, though I wasn’t sure I wanted to do any filming in such a miserable state. Lastly, since it was a private supply run from a warehouse area near Pittsburgh to a direct hospital pad in Ohio, I’d been able to bring my K-Bar, a sturdy, and brutally simple knife designed for the Marine Corps that I used every time I went camping. It was pitiful in comparison to the rifle I wished I had with me, but that didn’t matter now. I had what I had, and I doubted my trusty Armalite would have alleviated my sore knee anyway.
Clicking on my flashlight, I huddled with the poncho around my shoulders inside the wreck of the chopper and peered at the dusty roadmaps. A small part of me hoped that a solution would jump out from the faded paper, but none came. These were all maps of western PA and eastern Ohio. None of them had a Barron County on them anywhere.
The man on the radio said to head north, right before they shot me down. That means they must be camped out to the north of here. South had that convoy and those burning houses, so that’s a no-go. Maybe I can backtrack eastward the way I came.
As if on cue, a soft pop echoed from over the eastern horizon, and I craned to look out the helicopter window, spotting more man-made flashes over the tree tops.
“Great.” I hissed between clenched teeth, aware of how the temperature dipped to a chilly 60 degrees, and how despite the conditions, my stomach had begun to growl. “Not going that way, are we? Westward it is.”
Walking away from my poor 902 proved to be harder than I’d anticipated. Despite the glass, the fizzling fires, and the darkness, it still held a familiar, human essence to it. Sitting inside it made me feel secure, safe, even calm about the situation. In any other circumstance, I would have just stayed with the downed aircraft to wait for help, but I knew the men who shot me down would likely find my crash site, and I didn’t want to be around when they did.
Unlike much of central and western Ohio, southeastern Ohio is hilly, brushy, and clogged with thick forests. Thorns snagged at my thin poncho and sliced at my pant legs. My knee throbbed, every step a form of self-inflicted torture. The rain never stopped, a steady drizzle from above just cold enough to be problematic as time went on, making me shiver. Mud slid under my tennis shoes, and every tree looked ten times bigger in the flickering beam of my cheap flashlight. Icy fear prickled at the back of my neck at some of the sounds that greeted me through the gloom. I’d been camping loads of times, both in Pennsylvania and elsewhere, but these noises were something otherworldly to me.
Strange howls, screeches, and calls permeated the rain-soaked sky, some almost roars, while others bordered on human in their intonation. The more I walked, the softer the distant gunfire became, and the more prevalent the odd sounds, until the shadows seemed to fill with them. I didn’t dare turn off my flashlight, or I’d been completely blind in the dark, but a little voice in the back of my head screamed that I was too visible, crunching through the gloomy forest with my long beam of light stabbing into the abyss. It felt as though a million eyes were on me, studying me, hunting me from the surrounding brush, and I bitterly recalled how much I’d loved the old Survivor Man TV series as a kid.
Not so fun being out in the woods at night. Especially alone.
A twig snapped somewhere behind me, and I whirled on the spot, one trembling hand resting on the hilt of my K-Bar.
Nothing. Nothing but trees, bushes, and rain dripping down in the darkness.
“This is stupid.” I whispered to myself to keep my nerves in check as I slowly spun on the spot. “I should have went eastward anyway. God knows how long I’m going to have to—”
Creak.
A groan of metal-on-metal echoed from somewhere to my right, and I spun to face it, yanking the knife on my belt free from its scabbard. It felt so small and useless in my hand, and I choked down a wave of nauseas fear.
Ka-whump. Creak. K-whump. Creak.
Underbrush cracked and crunched, a few smaller saplings thrashed, and from deep within the gloom, two yellow orbs flared to life. They poked through the mist in the trees, forming into slender fingers of golden light that swept back and forth in the dark.
The soldiers . . . they must be looking for me.
I swallowed hard and turned to slink away.
Ice jammed through my blood, and I froze on the spot, biting my tongue to stop the scream.
It stood not yards away, a huge form that towered a good twelve feet tall in the swirling shadows. Unpolished chrome blended with flash-rusted spots in the faded red paint, and grime-smeared glass shone with dull hues in the flashes of lightning. Where the wheels should have been, the rounded steel axels curved like some enormous hand had bent them, and the tires lay face-down on the muddy ground like big round feet, their hubcaps buried in the dirt. Dents, scrapes, and chips covered the battered thing, and its crooked little radio antenna pointed straight up from the old metal fender like a mast. I could barely make out the mud-coated VW on the rounded hood, and my mind reeled in shock.
Is . . . is that a car?
Both yellow headlights bathed me in a circle of bright, blinding light, and neither I nor the strange vehicle moved.
Seconds ticked by, the screech-thumping in the background only growing closer. I realized that I couldn’t hear any engine noises and had yet to see any soldiers or guns pointed my way. This car looked old, really old, like one of those classic Volkswagen Beetles that collectors fought over at auctions. Try as I might, I couldn’t see a driver inside the murky, mold-smeared windows.
Because there wasn’t one.
Lightning arched across the sky overhead, and the car standing in front of me blinked.
Its headlights slid shut, as if little metal shades had crawled over the bulbs for a moment and flicked open again. Something about that movement was so primal, so real, so lifelike, that every ounce of self-control I had melted in an instant.
Cursing under my breath, I lunged into the shrubs, and the world erupted around me.
Under my shoes, the ground shook, and the car surged after me in a cacophony of ka-thumps that made my already racing heart skip several beats. A weather-beaten brown tow truck from the 50’s charged through the thorns to my left, it’s headlights ablaze, and a dilapidated yellow school bus rose from its hiding place in the weeds to stand tall on four down-turned axel-legs. They all flicked their headlights on like giants waking from their slumber, and as I dodged past them, they each blared their horn into the night in alarm.
My breaths came short and tight, my knee burned, and I crashed through thorns and briars without thought to how badly I was getting cut up.
The cheap poncho tore, and I ripped it away as it caught on a tree branch.
A purple 70’s Mustang shook off its blanket of creeping vines and bounded from a stand of trees just ahead, forcing me to swerve to avoid being run over, my adrenaline at all-time highs.
This can’t be happening, this can’t be happening, this can’t be happening.
Slipping and sliding, I pushed through a stand of multiflora rose, and stumbled out into a flat, dark expanse.
I almost skidded to a stop.
What had once been a rather large field stood no taller than my shoestrings, the grass charred, and burnt. The storm above illuminated huge pieces of wreckage that lay scattered over the nearly 40-acre plot, and I could just make out the fire-blackened hulk of a fuselage resting a hundred yards away. The plane had been brought down a while ago it seemed, as there weren’t any flames left burning, and I threw myself toward it in frenzied desperation.
Burned grass and greasy brown topsoil slushed underfoot, and I could hear the squelching of the cars pursing me. Rain soaked me to the bone, and my lungs ached from sucking down the damp night air. A painful stich crept into my side, and I cursed myself for not putting in more time for cardio at the gym.
Something caught my left shoelace, and I hurtled to the ground, tasting mud and blood in between my teeth.
They’ve got me now.
I clawed at the mud, rolled, and watched a tire slam down mere inches from where my head had been. The Mustang loomed over me and jostled for position with the red Volkswagen and brown tow truck, the school bus still a few yards behind them. They couldn’t seem to decide who would get the pleasure of stomping me to death, and like a herd of stampeding wildebeest, they locked bumpers in an epic shoving match.
On all fours, I scampered out from under the sparring brutes, and dashed for the crumpled airplane, a white-painted DC-3 that looked like it had been cut in half by a gargantuan knife blade. I passed a snapped wing section, the oily remains of a turbo-prop engine, and a mutilated wheel from the landing gear. Climbing over a heap of mud, I squeezed into the back of the ruined flight cabin and dropped down into the dark cargo hold.
Wham.
No sooner had my sneakers hit the cold metal floor, and the entire plane rocked from the impact of something heavy ramming it just outside. I tumbled to my knees, screaming in pain as, once again, I managed to bash the sore one off a bracket in the wall.
My hand smeared in something gooey, and I scrabbled for my flashlight.
It clicked on, a wavering ball of white light in the pitch darkness, and I fought the urge to gag. “Oh man . . .”
Three people, or what was left of them, lay strewn over the narrow cargo area. Claret red blood coated the walls, caked on the floor, and clotted under my mud-spattered shoes. Bits of flesh and viscera were stuck to everything, and tatters of cloth hung from exposed sections of broken bone. An eerie set of bloody handprints adorned the walls, and the only reason I could tell it had been three people were the shoes; all of them bore anklebones sticking out above blood-soaked socks. It smelled sickly sweet, a strange, nauseas odor that crept into my nose and settled on the back of my tongue like an alien parasite.
Something glinted in the beam of my flashlight, and my pulse quickened as I pried the object loose from the severed arm that still clung to it.
“Hail Mary full of Grace.” I would have grinned if it weren’t for the fact that the plane continued to buck and roll under the assault from the cars outside.
The pistol looked old, but well-maintained, aside from the light coating of dark blood that stained its round wooden handle. It felt heavy, but good in my hand, and I turned it over to read the words, Waffenfabrik Mauser stenciled into the frame, with a large red 9 carved into the grip. For some reason, it vaguely reminded me of the blasters from Star Wars.
I fumbled with a little switch that looked like a safety on the back of the gun and stumbled toward a gap in the plane’s dented fuselage to aim out at the surrounding headlights.
Bang.
The old gun bucked reliably in my hand, its long barrel spitting a little jet of flame into the night. I had no idea if I hit anything, but the attacking cars recoiled, their horns blaring in confusion.
They turned, and scuttled for the tree line as fast as their mechanical legs could go, the entire ordeal over as fast as it had begun.
Did I do that?
Perplexed, I stared down at the pistol in my hand.
Whoosh.
A large, inky black shadow glided down from the clouds, and the yellow school bus moved too slow to react in time.
With a crash, the kicking nightmarish vehicle was thrown onto its side, spraying glass and chrome trim across the muddy field. Its electro-synth horn blared with wails of mechanical agony, as two huge talon-like feet clamped down on it, and the enormous head of the flying creature lowered to rip open its engine compartment.
The horn cut out, and the enormous flying entity jerked its head back to gulp down a mass of what looked like sticky black vines from the interior of the shattered bus.
At this range, I could see now that the flying creature bore two legs and had its wings half-tucked like a vulture that had descended to feed on roadkill. Its head turned slightly, and in the glow of another lightning bolt, my jaw went slack at the realization of what it was.
A tree trunk. It’s a rotted tree trunk.
I couldn’t tell where the reptilian beast began, and where the organic tree components ended, the upper part of the head shaped like a log, while the lower jaw resembled something out of a dinosaur movie. Its skin looked identical to the outside of a shagbark hickory but flexed with a supple featheriness that denoted something closer to skin. Sharp branch-like spines ranged down its back, and out to the end of its tail, which bore a massive round club shaped like a diseased tree-knot. Crouched on both hind legs, it braced the hooked ends of its folded wings against the ground like a bat, towering higher than a semi-truck. Under the folds of its armored head, a bulging pair of chameleon-like eyes constantly spun in their sockets, probing the dark for threats while it ate.
One black pupil locked onto the window I peered through, and my heart stopped.
The beast regarded me for a moment, making a curious, sideways sniff.
With a proud, contemptful head-toss, the shadow from the sky parted rows of razor-sharp teeth to let out a roar that shook the earth beneath my feet. It was the triumphant war cry of a creature that sat at the very top of the food chain, one that felt no threat from the fragile two-legged beings that walked the earth all around it. It hunted whenever it wanted, ate whatever it wanted, and flew wherever it wanted. It didn’t need to rip the plane apart to devour me.
Like my hunter-gatherer ancestors from thousands of years ago, I wasn’t even worth the energy it would take to pounce.
I’m hiding in the remains of the cockpit now, which is half-buried under the mud of the field, enough to shield the light from my screen so that thing doesn’t see it. My service only now came back, and it’s been over an hour since the winged beast started in on the dead bus. I don’t know when, or how I’m going to get out of here. I don’t know when anyone will even see this post, or if it will upload at all. My phone battery is almost dead, and at this point, I’m probably going to have to sleep among the corpses until daylight comes.
A dead man sleeping amongst friends.
If you live in the Noble County area in southeastern Ohio, be careful where you drive, fly, and boat. I don’t know if it’s possible to stumble into this strange place by ground, but if so, then these things are definitely headed your way.
If that happens . . . pray that they don’t find you.
2023.05.28 23:52 OneRedLion Price for Diamond Gear?
On a server I play a lot, someone wants my spare diamond gear. It doesn't have any enchantments and no damage because I don't use it. They're willing to pay for it with items, but I don't know what to sell it for. It consists of Sword, axe, pick, shovel, and full armor. what should I sell each piece for? I should mention, They want to pay for it in emeralds, iron, gold, and a lot of common resources.
submitted by OneRedLion to Minecraft [link] [comments]
2023.05.28 23:51 PrincePauncey Which version of Fujin is better?
Green seems to be slightly worse than the other two, but I can't tell if purple or gold is better. They have different absorb voids, pretty similar damage, but purple has damage AS and gold has move time. I'm not planning on using her, but I want to have the best version.
submitted by PrincePauncey to PuzzleAndDragons [link] [comments]
2023.05.28 23:45 metalhead165 [Store]Knives/Gloves/Skins, Flip, Huntsman, Bowie, Gut Sapphire/Ruby, AWP Dragon Lore, Gungnir, Medusa, AK-47 Wild lotus, Gold Arabesque /BUFF
I can wait if your items with tradelock
Also i have a lot playskins, You can add me for discuss
Trade link https://steamcommunity.com/tradeoffenew/?partner=89041592&token=46BlDshy
I have a lot buff Balance, add me for nego. I can buy Stickered, low float and patterned skins.
I also can buy your high tier items for BTC/PP/BUFF
I can sell my items for BTC/PP
Prices is negotiable, I also can take items
I have a lot other items, you can add me
I can buy your skins for paypal or BTC
Buff Store
I have playskins
I can take BTC/ETH other crypto and PP
I can wait if your items has tradelock
Also i have a lot playskins. You can add me for discuss
Trade link~~
submitted by metalhead165 to GlobalOffensiveTrade [link] [comments]
Also i have a lot playskins, You can add me for discuss
Trade link https://steamcommunity.com/tradeoffenew/?partner=89041592&token=46BlDshy
I have a lot buff Balance, add me for nego. I can buy Stickered, low float and patterned skins.
I also can buy your high tier items for BTC/PP/BUFF
I can sell my items for BTC/PP
Prices is negotiable, I also can take items
| Knife | B/O in Crypto | |
|---|---|---|
| Flip Sapphire FN 0.02 | 6480$ | |
| Flip Ruby FN 0.02 | 5600$ | |
| Huntsman Sapphire FN 0.02 | 3690$ | |
| Huntsman Sapphire MW | 3290$ | |
| Bowie Knife Ruby FN 0.008 | 2450$ | |
| Falchion Emerald FN 0.01 | 2580$ | |
| Falchion Ruby 0.01 | 1880$ | |
| Shadow Daggers Sapphire FN 0.01 | 1540$ | |
| Shadow Daggers Sapphire FN 0.02 | 1490$ | |
| Gut Doppler Sapphire FN 0.03 | 1580$ | |
| Gut Doppler Sapphire MW | 1380$ | |
| Butterfly Crimson Web MW 0.10 nice webbing owned by Device | 3400$ |
| Skin | B/O in cash Crypto |
|---|---|
| AK Gold Arabesque FN Souvenir | 19500$ |
| AK Gold Arabesque WW | 3500$ |
| AK Wild Lotus MW 0.09 | 12500$ |
| AK Wild Lotus MW 0.10 | 12000$ |
| AK Wild Lotus BS 0.98 | 3700$ |
| AWP Gungnir MW | 14550$ |
| AWP Dragon Lore FT 0.28 | 7550$ |
| AWP Dragon Lore WW | 6550$ |
| AWP Medusa MW x3 crown KennyS gold Boston | 6600$ |
| AWP Medusa FT | 2900$ |
I can buy your skins for paypal or BTC
Buff Store
I have playskins
I can take BTC/ETH other crypto and PP
I can wait if your items has tradelock
Also i have a lot playskins. You can add me for discuss
Trade link~~
2023.05.28 23:40 antonl99 [Store] Multiple Knives, Gloves & High tiers - BFK Emerald/Ruby/2xBlackPearl, M9 Ruby 0.0013, M9 Black Pearl 2x, M9 Emerald, M9 Ruby, M9 Sapp, M9 Crimson Web FN, M9 Black Pearl FN 0.00, AWP Gungnir FN/, AWP Dragon Lore FN/MW 2X, AK Wild Lotus MW, Stiletto Ruby/Sapp , Vice Gloves MW and MUCH more.
Hi dear friends, everything in my inventory is up for trade and up for sale. I also buy/sell skins via Crypto. (This List only contain items above $100 I have a lot more items in my inventory, check that out on my profile) This list is not always up to date there is more unlisted items in my inventory! feel free to add me to discuss offers. The fastest way to get a response is to send me a direct trade offer through my trade link. Guidelines to communicate with me : be informative on what you're interested in and if you wish to buy with cash/crypto or trade. My discord : ¡Antonbeast Buying/Trading Skins#9260 Links to my profile / trade offer Steam Profile : https://steamcommunity.com/id/antonbeast Trade offer : https://steamcommunity.com/tradeoffenew/?partner=61414315&token=WGyxdHWU Every item is up for trade, don't be afraid to send an offer! Prices on items may fluctuate, don't fully rely on the B/O price. Name Float Specifics Tradability B/O ★ Butterfly Knife Gamma Doppler (Emerald) FN 0.0378 - Tradable $21000 ★ Karambit Doppler (Sapphire) FN 0.0667 - Tradable $14500 ★ Butterfly Knife Doppler (Ruby) FN 0.0071 - Tradable $13500 ★ M9 Bayonet Doppler (Ruby) FN 0.0013 - Not tradeable $14500 AWP Dragon Lore MW 0.0785 - Tradable $10250 AK-47 Wild Lotus MW 0.1325 - Tradable $10500 M4A4 Howl FN 0.0568 - Tradable $7850 M4A4 Howl FN 0.0628 - Tradable $7850 AWP Dragon Lore FT 0.3701 - Tradable $6950 ★ Butterfly Knife Doppler (Black Pearl) FN 0.0245 - Tradable $7850 Souvenir AK-47 Gold Arabesque MW 0.0947 - Tradable $6150 AK-47 Gold Arabesque FN 0.0069 0.00 Tradable $6351.91 AK-47 Gold Arabesque FN 0.0687 - Tradable $5351.91 ★ M9 Bayonet Doppler (Black Pearl) FN 0.0096 0.00 Tradable $8252.87 ★ M9 Bayonet Doppler (Black Pearl) FN 0.0089 0.00 Tradable $8252.87 ★ Sport Gloves Vice MW 0.1499 - Not tradeable $5889.16 ★ Sport Gloves Vice MW 0.1258 - Tradable $5889.16 ★ Sport Gloves Vice MW 0.1433 BTA Knuckles, very clean Tradable $7189.16 ★ Stiletto Knife Doppler (Sapphire) FN 0.0222 - Tradable $5966.35 ★ Flip Knife Doppler (Sapphire) FN 0.0535 - Tradable $5560.84 ★ Flip Knife Doppler (Sapphire) FN 0.0044 - Tradable $5960.84 M4A4 Howl MW 0.0795 - Tradable $5213.81 ★ Sport Gloves Pandora's Box FT 0.3633 - Tradable $5271.48 ★ Stiletto Knife Doppler (Ruby) FN 0.0330 - Tradable $4857.16 M4A4 Howl FT 0.3227 - Not tradeable $4256.47 ★ Butterfly Knife Lore MW 0.1465 - Not tradeable $3838.56 ★ Butterfly Knife Lore MW 0.1042 0.10 Tradable $4238.56 ★ Specialist Gloves Crimson Kimono MW 0.1264 BTA pattern Not tradeable $4622.7 ★ Talon Knife Crimson Web FN 0.0603 #1 world Talon FN CW Not tradeable $6500 ★ Stiletto Knife Doppler (Ruby) MW 0.0745 - Tradable $3794.53 ★ Butterfly Knife Fade FN 0.0026 - Tradable $3926.33 ★ Butterfly Knife Fade FN 0.0195 80.0% lowest possible Tradable $5426.33 AWP Desert Hydra FN 0.0522 - Not tradeable $3641.45 AWP The Prince FT 0.3428 - Tradable $3627.29 ★ Ursus Knife Doppler (Ruby) FN 0.0140 - Tradable $3527.29 ★ Butterfly Knife Fade MW 0.0703 - Tradable $3477.14 ★ Karambit Lore FN 0.0631 - Tradable $3173.33 M4A1-S Knight FN 0.0076 - Tradable $3852.09 ★ Karambit Fade FN 0.0101 - Tradable $2874.21 ★ Karambit Fade FN 0.0097 0.00 + 99.9% Fade, one of the best kara fades. Tradable $8000.21 ST ★ Huntsman Knife Doppler (Sapphire) FN 0.0331 - Tradable $2809.08 ★ Huntsman Knife Gamma Doppler (Emerald) FN 0.0319 - Tradable $2732.63 ★ Sport Gloves Hedge Maze FT 0.2967 - Tradable $3076.81 ★ Sport Gloves Hedge Maze FT 0.2856 - Tradable $3276.81 ★ Sport Gloves Hedge Maze FT 0.2243 - Tradable $4576.81 ★ Butterfly Knife Doppler (Phase 2) FN 0.0355 - Tradable $2435.29 ★ Butterfly Knife Marble Fade FN 0.0599 - Tradable $2398.48 ★ Huntsman Knife Doppler (Ruby) FN 0.0277 - Tradable $2322.03 AWP Medusa FT 0.3088 - Tradable $2519.19 Souvenir AK-47 Gold Arabesque BS 0.5971 - Tradable $2237.07 AK-47 Hydroponic FN 0.0381 - Tradable $2229.85 ★ Skeleton Knife Fade FN 0.0660 - Not tradeable $2202.38 ★ M9 Bayonet Fade FN 0.0373 - Tradable $2109.64 ★ Butterfly Knife Lore FT 0.3677 - Tradable $2050.04 ★ Bowie Knife Doppler (Sapphire) FN 0.0323 - Tradable $2045.93 ★ Butterfly Knife 0.3833 - Tradable $2017.61 ★ Bowie Knife Gamma Doppler (Emerald) FN 0.0213 - Tradable $1966.36 ★ Bowie Knife Gamma Doppler (Emerald) FN 0.0175 - Tradable $1966.36 ST ★ M9 Bayonet Fade FN 0.0101 - Tradable $1929.83 MP9 Wild Lily FN 0.0567 - Tradable $2197.26 ★ Falchion Knife Gamma Doppler (Emerald) FN 0.0007 - Tradable $1887.78 ★ Falchion Knife Gamma Doppler (Emerald) FN 0.0112 - Tradable $1887.78 ★ Sport Gloves Omega MW 0.1382 - Tradable $1858.82 ★ Sport Gloves Omega MW 0.1311 - Tradable $1858.82 ★ Butterfly Knife Tiger Tooth FN 0.0073 - Not tradeable $1951.96 M4A1-S Welcome to the Jungle MW 0.1412 - Tradable $1840.63 ★ Driver Gloves King Snake MW 0.1444 - Tradable $2139.14 ★ Karambit Lore MW 0.0736 - Tradable $2133.76 ★ Flip Knife Doppler (Black Pearl) MW 0.0781 - Tradable $2169.84 ★ Karambit Marble Fade FN 0.0334 BTA Corner Tradable $1955.61 ★ Karambit Doppler (Phase 2) FN 0.0344 - Tradable $1741.52 ST ★ Karambit Gamma Doppler (Phase 4) FN 0.0332 - Not tradeable $1727.36 ★ M9 Bayonet Crimson Web MW 0.0880 - Tradable $3906.12 ★ M9 Bayonet Marble Fade FN 0.0333 - Not tradeable $1697.63 Souvenir AWP Desert Hydra 0.4292 - Not tradeable $1670.73 AK-47 Hydroponic MW 0.0752 - Tradable $1592.85 ★ Moto Gloves Spearmint FT 0.2960 - Tradable $1543.23 ★ Karambit Crimson Web MW 0.1224 - Not tradeable $1451.27 AK-47 Fire Serpent MW 0.0999 - Tradable $1343.52 AK-47 Fire Serpent MW 0.1411 - Tradable $1343.52 M4A1-S Imminent Danger MW 0.1346 - Tradable $1308.26 ★ Karambit BS 0.5547 - Tradable $1295.45 ★ Karambit Doppler (Phase 3) FN 0.0064 - Not tradeable $1258.42 ★ Karambit Doppler (Phase 3) FN 0.0354 - Tradable $1258.42 ★ Karambit Doppler (Phase 1) FN 0.0277 - Not tradeable $1245.96 ★ Survival Knife Crimson Web FN 0.0670 - Not tradeable $1234.64 ★ Gut Knife Doppler (Sapphire) FN 0.0232 - Not tradeable $1230.11 ★ M9 Bayonet Slaughter FN 0.0335 - Not tradeable $1203.35 ★ M9 Bayonet Slaughter FN 0.0699 - Tradable $1203.35 AWP Fade FN 0.0206 - Tradable $1189.33 ST ★ Butterfly Knife Ultraviolet MW 0.1411 - Tradable $1189.33 AWP Fade FN 0.0333 - Tradable $1189.33 ST ★ Talon Knife Doppler (Phase 2) FN 0.0465 - Not tradeable $1118.39 ★ Talon Knife Marble Fade FN 0.0402 - Tradable $1113.72 ★ Talon Knife Marble Fade FN 0.0355 - Tradable $1113.72 ★ Talon Knife Marble Fade FN 0.0338 - Tradable $1113.72 ST ★ Butterfly Knife Damascus Steel MW 0.0811 - Tradable $1068.27 ★ Karambit Slaughter MW 0.1166 - Tradable $1054.82 ★ Navaja Knife Doppler (Sapphire) FN 0.0387 - Not tradeable $1040.52 ★ Shadow Daggers Doppler (Ruby) FN 0.0081 - Tradable $996.63 ★ Stiletto Knife Fade FN 0.0090 - Tradable $990.97 ★ Specialist Gloves Field Agent MW 0.1271 - Tradable $989.55 ★ Butterfly Knife Blue Steel MW 0.0888 - Not tradeable $987.57 ★ Talon Knife Doppler (Phase 1) FN 0.0346 - Not tradeable $984.03 ★ Karambit Case Hardened MW 0.0883 - Not tradeable $955.71 ST ★ Bayonet Lore MW 0.0804 - Tradable $906.01 AK-47 Fire Serpent FT 0.2272 - Tradable $900.49 ★ Bayonet Marble Fade FN 0.0320 - Tradable $890.51 ★ Talon Knife Tiger Tooth FN 0.0556 - Tradable $822.62 ST ★ Bayonet Tiger Tooth MW 0.0716 - Tradable $821.2 ST AK-47 Vulcan MW 0.0981 4x Kato 15 Navi Holo Tradable $2816.96 ★ Karambit Blue Steel MW 0.1493 - Tradable $799.97 ★ Sport Gloves Vice BS 0.7893 - Tradable $792.88 ST ★ Classic Knife Fade FN 0.0592 - Tradable $786.44 Desert Eagle Blaze FN 0.0085 - Tradable $780.43 Desert Eagle Blaze FN 0.0260 - Tradable $780.43 Desert Eagle Blaze FN 0.0044 - Tradable $780.43 Desert Eagle Blaze FN 0.0078 - Tradable $780.43 Desert Eagle Blaze FN 0.0313 - Tradable $780.43 ★ M9 Bayonet Bright Water FN 0.0322 - Tradable $745.46 ★ Karambit Blue Steel FT 0.1713 - Tradable $736.25 ST ★ Stiletto Knife Doppler (Phase 2) FN 0.0464 - Tradable $734.84 ★ Bayonet Autotronic MW 0.1111 - Tradable $729.31 ★ Sport Gloves Omega FT 0.3725 - Not tradeable $714.87 ★ Sport Gloves Scarlet Shamagh MW 0.1074 - Tradable $707.86 ★ Butterfly Knife Forest DDPAT MW 0.1363 - Tradable $700.78 ★ Flip Knife Marble Fade FN 0.0299 - Not tradeable $687.48 ★ Bayonet Doppler (Phase 1) FN 0.0165 - Tradable $683.58 ★ Stiletto Knife Marble Fade FN 0.0072 - Tradable $676.64 ★ Sport Gloves Hedge Maze BS 0.5675 - Not tradeable $672.11 ★ Driver Gloves Snow Leopard FT 0.2092 - Tradable $658.24 ★ Stiletto Knife Marble Fade MW 0.0789 - Tradable $651.16 ★ Survival Knife Fade FN 0.0102 - Not tradeable $647.55 ★ Stiletto Knife Doppler (Phase 3) FN 0.0091 - Tradable $622.98 ★ Butterfly Knife Urban Masked 0.3844 - Tradable $608.82 ★ Butterfly Knife Scorched FT 0.3489 - Tradable $603.16 ★ Stiletto Knife Tiger Tooth FN 0.0116 - Not tradeable $591.69 ★ Ursus Knife Doppler (Phase 2) FN 0.0328 - Tradable $590.35 ★ Huntsman Knife Fade FN 0.0078 - Not tradeable $576.26 ★ Flip Knife Tiger Tooth FN 0.0359 - Tradable $572.58 ★ Moto Gloves Smoke Out MW 0.1324 - Tradable $559.13 ★ Specialist Gloves Emerald Web 0.4355 - Tradable $528.81 ★ Paracord Knife Crimson Web MW 0.1324 - Tradable $506.87 Desert Eagle Fennec Fox FN 0.0694 - Tradable $494.14 ★ Hand Wraps Cobalt Skulls FT 0.3506 - Tradable $474.88 AK-47 Vulcan MW 0.1165 - Tradable $470.07 ★ Huntsman Knife Gamma Doppler (Phase 3) FN 0.0244 - Not tradeable $464.7 ST ★ Falchion Knife Doppler (Phase 4) FN 0.0353 - Tradable $431.56 ★ M9 Bayonet Urban Masked FT 0.2890 - Tradable $423.68 ★ M9 Bayonet Forest DDPAT 0.3855 - Tradable $421.93 ★ Paracord Knife Slaughter FN 0.0137 - Tradable $416.97 M4A4 Temukau FN 0.0140 - Tradable $399.28 ★ Survival Knife Slaughter FN 0.0615 - Not tradeable $377.97 ★ Bayonet Blue Steel MW 0.0877 - Tradable $372.23 ★ Specialist Gloves Field Agent FT 0.2862 - Tradable $368.13 Desert Eagle Hand Cannon FN 0.0331 - Tradable $368.12 ★ Skeleton Knife Night Stripe BS 0.5431 - Tradable $366.69 ★ Flip Knife Autotronic FT 0.2108 - Not tradeable $356.94 Desert Eagle Fennec Fox MW 0.0884 - Tradable $356.8 ★ Nomad Knife Case Hardened FT 0.1803 - Tradable $356.49 ST ★ Bowie Knife Lore MW 0.1062 - Tradable $353.75 ★ Bayonet Ultraviolet MW 0.0939 - Tradable $352.53 ★ Talon Knife Ultraviolet FT 0.1823 - Tradable $348.3 ★ Sport Gloves Bronze Morph MW 0.1045 - Tradable $347.74 ★ Driver Gloves Imperial Plaid FT 0.2631 - Not tradeable $345.4 ★ Driver Gloves Imperial Plaid FT 0.2584 - Tradable $345.4 M4A4 The Coalition FN 0.0681 - Tradable $344.05 ST ★ Flip Knife Crimson Web FT 0.3589 - Not tradeable $339.66 ST AK-47 The Empress FN 0.0689 - Tradable $328.2 AWP Oni Taiji FT 0.2085 - Tradable $325.58 AWP Oni Taiji FT 0.1786 - Tradable $325.58 AWP Silk Tiger FN 0.0429 - Not tradeable $320.69 AWP Silk Tiger FN 0.0401 - Tradable $320.69 ★ Sport Gloves Scarlet Shamagh FT 0.2615 - Tradable $310 ★ Sport Gloves Scarlet Shamagh FT 0.3778 - Tradable $310 ★ Sport Gloves Nocts FT 0.2275 - Tradable $308.45 ★ Falchion Knife Tiger Tooth FN 0.0591 - Tradable $301.37 ★ Paracord Knife Crimson Web FT 0.2136 - Tradable $286 ★ Flip Knife Black Laminate FT 0.1931 - Not tradeable $282.47 Glock-18 Twilight Galaxy FN 0.0069 - Tradable $269.02 ★ Flip Knife Black Laminate BS 0.8311 - Not tradeable $263.14 ★ Hand Wraps CAUTION! FT 0.3525 - Not tradeable $261.78 AK-47 Fuel Injector MW 0.0954 - Tradable $261.16 ★ Nomad Knife Stained 0.3913 - Tradable $254.86 M4A1-S Printstream MW 0.1048 - Not tradeable $246.99 AK-47 Vulcan FT 0.2007 - Tradable $237.72 ★ Specialist Gloves Mogul FT 0.1817 - Tradable $235.95 ★ Specialist Gloves Forest DDPAT MW 0.1365 - Tradable $230.57 Glock-18 Gamma Doppler (Emerald) FT 0.2246 - Tradable $226.54 AK-47 Case Hardened FT 0.2186 - Tradable $209.12 ★ Moto Gloves Smoke Out FT 0.2946 - Tradable $207.35 \- Steam Profile : https://steamcommunity.com/id/antonbeast Trade offer : https://steamcommunity.com/tradeoffenew/?partner=61414315&token=WGyxdHWU
submitted by antonl99 to Csgotrading [link] [comments]
2023.05.28 23:40 antonl99 [Store] Multiple Knives, Gloves & High tiers - BFK Emerald/Ruby/2xBlackPearl, M9 Ruby 0.0013, M9 Black Pearl 2x, M9 Emerald, M9 Ruby, M9 Sapp, M9 Crimson Web FN, M9 Black Pearl FN 0.00, AWP Gungnir FN/, AWP Dragon Lore FN/MW 2X, AK Wild Lotus MW, Stiletto Ruby/Sapp , Vice Gloves MW and MUCH more.
Hi dear friends, everything in my inventory is up for trade and up for sale. I also buy/sell skins via Crypto. (This List only contain items above $100 I have a lot more items in my inventory, check that out on my profile) This list is not always up to date there is more unlisted items in my inventory! feel free to add me to discuss offers. The fastest way to get a response is to send me a direct trade offer through my trade link. Guidelines to communicate with me : be informative on what you're interested in and if you wish to buy with cash/crypto or trade. My discord : ¡Antonbeast Buying/Trading Skins#9260 Links to my profile / trade offer Steam Profile : https://steamcommunity.com/id/antonbeast Trade offer : https://steamcommunity.com/tradeoffenew/?partner=61414315&token=WGyxdHWU Every item is up for trade, don't be afraid to send an offer! Prices on items may fluctuate, don't fully rely on the B/O price. Name Float Specifics Tradability B/O ★ Butterfly Knife Gamma Doppler (Emerald) FN 0.0378 - Tradable $21000 ★ Karambit Doppler (Sapphire) FN 0.0667 - Tradable $14500 ★ Butterfly Knife Doppler (Ruby) FN 0.0071 - Tradable $13500 ★ M9 Bayonet Doppler (Ruby) FN 0.0013 - Not tradeable $14500 AWP Dragon Lore MW 0.0785 - Tradable $10250 AK-47 Wild Lotus MW 0.1325 - Tradable $10500 M4A4 Howl FN 0.0568 - Tradable $7850 M4A4 Howl FN 0.0628 - Tradable $7850 AWP Dragon Lore FT 0.3701 - Tradable $6950 ★ Butterfly Knife Doppler (Black Pearl) FN 0.0245 - Tradable $7850 Souvenir AK-47 Gold Arabesque MW 0.0947 - Tradable $6150 AK-47 Gold Arabesque FN 0.0069 0.00 Tradable $6351.91 AK-47 Gold Arabesque FN 0.0687 - Tradable $5351.91 ★ M9 Bayonet Doppler (Black Pearl) FN 0.0096 0.00 Tradable $8252.87 ★ M9 Bayonet Doppler (Black Pearl) FN 0.0089 0.00 Tradable $8252.87 ★ Sport Gloves Vice MW 0.1499 - Not tradeable $5889.16 ★ Sport Gloves Vice MW 0.1258 - Tradable $5889.16 ★ Sport Gloves Vice MW 0.1433 BTA Knuckles, very clean Tradable $7189.16 ★ Stiletto Knife Doppler (Sapphire) FN 0.0222 - Tradable $5966.35 ★ Flip Knife Doppler (Sapphire) FN 0.0535 - Tradable $5560.84 ★ Flip Knife Doppler (Sapphire) FN 0.0044 - Tradable $5960.84 M4A4 Howl MW 0.0795 - Tradable $5213.81 ★ Sport Gloves Pandora's Box FT 0.3633 - Tradable $5271.48 ★ Stiletto Knife Doppler (Ruby) FN 0.0330 - Tradable $4857.16 M4A4 Howl FT 0.3227 - Not tradeable $4256.47 ★ Butterfly Knife Lore MW 0.1465 - Not tradeable $3838.56 ★ Butterfly Knife Lore MW 0.1042 0.10 Tradable $4238.56 ★ Specialist Gloves Crimson Kimono MW 0.1264 BTA pattern Not tradeable $4622.7 ★ Talon Knife Crimson Web FN 0.0603 #1 world Talon FN CW Not tradeable $6500 ★ Stiletto Knife Doppler (Ruby) MW 0.0745 - Tradable $3794.53 ★ Butterfly Knife Fade FN 0.0026 - Tradable $3926.33 ★ Butterfly Knife Fade FN 0.0195 80.0% lowest possible Tradable $5426.33 AWP Desert Hydra FN 0.0522 - Not tradeable $3641.45 AWP The Prince FT 0.3428 - Tradable $3627.29 ★ Ursus Knife Doppler (Ruby) FN 0.0140 - Tradable $3527.29 ★ Butterfly Knife Fade MW 0.0703 - Tradable $3477.14 ★ Karambit Lore FN 0.0631 - Tradable $3173.33 M4A1-S Knight FN 0.0076 - Tradable $3852.09 ★ Karambit Fade FN 0.0101 - Tradable $2874.21 ★ Karambit Fade FN 0.0097 0.00 + 99.9% Fade, one of the best kara fades. Tradable $8000.21 ST ★ Huntsman Knife Doppler (Sapphire) FN 0.0331 - Tradable $2809.08 ★ Huntsman Knife Gamma Doppler (Emerald) FN 0.0319 - Tradable $2732.63 ★ Sport Gloves Hedge Maze FT 0.2967 - Tradable $3076.81 ★ Sport Gloves Hedge Maze FT 0.2856 - Tradable $3276.81 ★ Sport Gloves Hedge Maze FT 0.2243 - Tradable $4576.81 ★ Butterfly Knife Doppler (Phase 2) FN 0.0355 - Tradable $2435.29 ★ Butterfly Knife Marble Fade FN 0.0599 - Tradable $2398.48 ★ Huntsman Knife Doppler (Ruby) FN 0.0277 - Tradable $2322.03 AWP Medusa FT 0.3088 - Tradable $2519.19 Souvenir AK-47 Gold Arabesque BS 0.5971 - Tradable $2237.07 AK-47 Hydroponic FN 0.0381 - Tradable $2229.85 ★ Skeleton Knife Fade FN 0.0660 - Not tradeable $2202.38 ★ M9 Bayonet Fade FN 0.0373 - Tradable $2109.64 ★ Butterfly Knife Lore FT 0.3677 - Tradable $2050.04 ★ Bowie Knife Doppler (Sapphire) FN 0.0323 - Tradable $2045.93 ★ Butterfly Knife 0.3833 - Tradable $2017.61 ★ Bowie Knife Gamma Doppler (Emerald) FN 0.0213 - Tradable $1966.36 ★ Bowie Knife Gamma Doppler (Emerald) FN 0.0175 - Tradable $1966.36 ST ★ M9 Bayonet Fade FN 0.0101 - Tradable $1929.83 MP9 Wild Lily FN 0.0567 - Tradable $2197.26 ★ Falchion Knife Gamma Doppler (Emerald) FN 0.0007 - Tradable $1887.78 ★ Falchion Knife Gamma Doppler (Emerald) FN 0.0112 - Tradable $1887.78 ★ Sport Gloves Omega MW 0.1382 - Tradable $1858.82 ★ Sport Gloves Omega MW 0.1311 - Tradable $1858.82 ★ Butterfly Knife Tiger Tooth FN 0.0073 - Not tradeable $1951.96 M4A1-S Welcome to the Jungle MW 0.1412 - Tradable $1840.63 ★ Driver Gloves King Snake MW 0.1444 - Tradable $2139.14 ★ Karambit Lore MW 0.0736 - Tradable $2133.76 ★ Flip Knife Doppler (Black Pearl) MW 0.0781 - Tradable $2169.84 ★ Karambit Marble Fade FN 0.0334 BTA Corner Tradable $1955.61 ★ Karambit Doppler (Phase 2) FN 0.0344 - Tradable $1741.52 ST ★ Karambit Gamma Doppler (Phase 4) FN 0.0332 - Not tradeable $1727.36 ★ M9 Bayonet Crimson Web MW 0.0880 - Tradable $3906.12 ★ M9 Bayonet Marble Fade FN 0.0333 - Not tradeable $1697.63 Souvenir AWP Desert Hydra 0.4292 - Not tradeable $1670.73 AK-47 Hydroponic MW 0.0752 - Tradable $1592.85 ★ Moto Gloves Spearmint FT 0.2960 - Tradable $1543.23 ★ Karambit Crimson Web MW 0.1224 - Not tradeable $1451.27 AK-47 Fire Serpent MW 0.0999 - Tradable $1343.52 AK-47 Fire Serpent MW 0.1411 - Tradable $1343.52 M4A1-S Imminent Danger MW 0.1346 - Tradable $1308.26 ★ Karambit BS 0.5547 - Tradable $1295.45 ★ Karambit Doppler (Phase 3) FN 0.0064 - Not tradeable $1258.42 ★ Karambit Doppler (Phase 3) FN 0.0354 - Tradable $1258.42 ★ Karambit Doppler (Phase 1) FN 0.0277 - Not tradeable $1245.96 ★ Survival Knife Crimson Web FN 0.0670 - Not tradeable $1234.64 ★ Gut Knife Doppler (Sapphire) FN 0.0232 - Not tradeable $1230.11 ★ M9 Bayonet Slaughter FN 0.0335 - Not tradeable $1203.35 ★ M9 Bayonet Slaughter FN 0.0699 - Tradable $1203.35 AWP Fade FN 0.0206 - Tradable $1189.33 ST ★ Butterfly Knife Ultraviolet MW 0.1411 - Tradable $1189.33 AWP Fade FN 0.0333 - Tradable $1189.33 ST ★ Talon Knife Doppler (Phase 2) FN 0.0465 - Not tradeable $1118.39 ★ Talon Knife Marble Fade FN 0.0402 - Tradable $1113.72 ★ Talon Knife Marble Fade FN 0.0355 - Tradable $1113.72 ★ Talon Knife Marble Fade FN 0.0338 - Tradable $1113.72 ST ★ Butterfly Knife Damascus Steel MW 0.0811 - Tradable $1068.27 ★ Karambit Slaughter MW 0.1166 - Tradable $1054.82 ★ Navaja Knife Doppler (Sapphire) FN 0.0387 - Not tradeable $1040.52 ★ Shadow Daggers Doppler (Ruby) FN 0.0081 - Tradable $996.63 ★ Stiletto Knife Fade FN 0.0090 - Tradable $990.97 ★ Specialist Gloves Field Agent MW 0.1271 - Tradable $989.55 ★ Butterfly Knife Blue Steel MW 0.0888 - Not tradeable $987.57 ★ Talon Knife Doppler (Phase 1) FN 0.0346 - Not tradeable $984.03 ★ Karambit Case Hardened MW 0.0883 - Not tradeable $955.71 ST ★ Bayonet Lore MW 0.0804 - Tradable $906.01 AK-47 Fire Serpent FT 0.2272 - Tradable $900.49 ★ Bayonet Marble Fade FN 0.0320 - Tradable $890.51 ★ Talon Knife Tiger Tooth FN 0.0556 - Tradable $822.62 ST ★ Bayonet Tiger Tooth MW 0.0716 - Tradable $821.2 ST AK-47 Vulcan MW 0.0981 4x Kato 15 Navi Holo Tradable $2816.96 ★ Karambit Blue Steel MW 0.1493 - Tradable $799.97 ★ Sport Gloves Vice BS 0.7893 - Tradable $792.88 ST ★ Classic Knife Fade FN 0.0592 - Tradable $786.44 Desert Eagle Blaze FN 0.0085 - Tradable $780.43 Desert Eagle Blaze FN 0.0260 - Tradable $780.43 Desert Eagle Blaze FN 0.0044 - Tradable $780.43 Desert Eagle Blaze FN 0.0078 - Tradable $780.43 Desert Eagle Blaze FN 0.0313 - Tradable $780.43 ★ M9 Bayonet Bright Water FN 0.0322 - Tradable $745.46 ★ Karambit Blue Steel FT 0.1713 - Tradable $736.25 ST ★ Stiletto Knife Doppler (Phase 2) FN 0.0464 - Tradable $734.84 ★ Bayonet Autotronic MW 0.1111 - Tradable $729.31 ★ Sport Gloves Omega FT 0.3725 - Not tradeable $714.87 ★ Sport Gloves Scarlet Shamagh MW 0.1074 - Tradable $707.86 ★ Butterfly Knife Forest DDPAT MW 0.1363 - Tradable $700.78 ★ Flip Knife Marble Fade FN 0.0299 - Not tradeable $687.48 ★ Bayonet Doppler (Phase 1) FN 0.0165 - Tradable $683.58 ★ Stiletto Knife Marble Fade FN 0.0072 - Tradable $676.64 ★ Sport Gloves Hedge Maze BS 0.5675 - Not tradeable $672.11 ★ Driver Gloves Snow Leopard FT 0.2092 - Tradable $658.24 ★ Stiletto Knife Marble Fade MW 0.0789 - Tradable $651.16 ★ Survival Knife Fade FN 0.0102 - Not tradeable $647.55 ★ Stiletto Knife Doppler (Phase 3) FN 0.0091 - Tradable $622.98 ★ Butterfly Knife Urban Masked 0.3844 - Tradable $608.82 ★ Butterfly Knife Scorched FT 0.3489 - Tradable $603.16 ★ Stiletto Knife Tiger Tooth FN 0.0116 - Not tradeable $591.69 ★ Ursus Knife Doppler (Phase 2) FN 0.0328 - Tradable $590.35 ★ Huntsman Knife Fade FN 0.0078 - Not tradeable $576.26 ★ Flip Knife Tiger Tooth FN 0.0359 - Tradable $572.58 ★ Moto Gloves Smoke Out MW 0.1324 - Tradable $559.13 ★ Specialist Gloves Emerald Web 0.4355 - Tradable $528.81 ★ Paracord Knife Crimson Web MW 0.1324 - Tradable $506.87 Desert Eagle Fennec Fox FN 0.0694 - Tradable $494.14 ★ Hand Wraps Cobalt Skulls FT 0.3506 - Tradable $474.88 AK-47 Vulcan MW 0.1165 - Tradable $470.07 ★ Huntsman Knife Gamma Doppler (Phase 3) FN 0.0244 - Not tradeable $464.7 ST ★ Falchion Knife Doppler (Phase 4) FN 0.0353 - Tradable $431.56 ★ M9 Bayonet Urban Masked FT 0.2890 - Tradable $423.68 ★ M9 Bayonet Forest DDPAT 0.3855 - Tradable $421.93 ★ Paracord Knife Slaughter FN 0.0137 - Tradable $416.97 M4A4 Temukau FN 0.0140 - Tradable $399.28 ★ Survival Knife Slaughter FN 0.0615 - Not tradeable $377.97 ★ Bayonet Blue Steel MW 0.0877 - Tradable $372.23 ★ Specialist Gloves Field Agent FT 0.2862 - Tradable $368.13 Desert Eagle Hand Cannon FN 0.0331 - Tradable $368.12 ★ Skeleton Knife Night Stripe BS 0.5431 - Tradable $366.69 ★ Flip Knife Autotronic FT 0.2108 - Not tradeable $356.94 Desert Eagle Fennec Fox MW 0.0884 - Tradable $356.8 ★ Nomad Knife Case Hardened FT 0.1803 - Tradable $356.49 ST ★ Bowie Knife Lore MW 0.1062 - Tradable $353.75 ★ Bayonet Ultraviolet MW 0.0939 - Tradable $352.53 ★ Talon Knife Ultraviolet FT 0.1823 - Tradable $348.3 ★ Sport Gloves Bronze Morph MW 0.1045 - Tradable $347.74 ★ Driver Gloves Imperial Plaid FT 0.2631 - Not tradeable $345.4 ★ Driver Gloves Imperial Plaid FT 0.2584 - Tradable $345.4 M4A4 The Coalition FN 0.0681 - Tradable $344.05 ST ★ Flip Knife Crimson Web FT 0.3589 - Not tradeable $339.66 ST AK-47 The Empress FN 0.0689 - Tradable $328.2 AWP Oni Taiji FT 0.2085 - Tradable $325.58 AWP Oni Taiji FT 0.1786 - Tradable $325.58 AWP Silk Tiger FN 0.0429 - Not tradeable $320.69 AWP Silk Tiger FN 0.0401 - Tradable $320.69 ★ Sport Gloves Scarlet Shamagh FT 0.2615 - Tradable $310 ★ Sport Gloves Scarlet Shamagh FT 0.3778 - Tradable $310 ★ Sport Gloves Nocts FT 0.2275 - Tradable $308.45 ★ Falchion Knife Tiger Tooth FN 0.0591 - Tradable $301.37 ★ Paracord Knife Crimson Web FT 0.2136 - Tradable $286 ★ Flip Knife Black Laminate FT 0.1931 - Not tradeable $282.47 Glock-18 Twilight Galaxy FN 0.0069 - Tradable $269.02 ★ Flip Knife Black Laminate BS 0.8311 - Not tradeable $263.14 ★ Hand Wraps CAUTION! FT 0.3525 - Not tradeable $261.78 AK-47 Fuel Injector MW 0.0954 - Tradable $261.16 ★ Nomad Knife Stained 0.3913 - Tradable $254.86 M4A1-S Printstream MW 0.1048 - Not tradeable $246.99 AK-47 Vulcan FT 0.2007 - Tradable $237.72 ★ Specialist Gloves Mogul FT 0.1817 - Tradable $235.95 ★ Specialist Gloves Forest DDPAT MW 0.1365 - Tradable $230.57 Glock-18 Gamma Doppler (Emerald) FT 0.2246 - Tradable $226.54 AK-47 Case Hardened FT 0.2186 - Tradable $209.12 ★ Moto Gloves Smoke Out FT 0.2946 - Tradable $207.35 - Steam Profile : https://steamcommunity.com/id/antonbeast Trade offer : https://steamcommunity.com/tradeoffenew/?partner=61414315&token=WGyxdHWU
submitted by antonl99 to GlobalOffensiveTrade [link] [comments]
2023.05.28 23:39 GhostyHades What ten should I use with my 4 start ruler of kahdaq black adam
I use my 84k threat black Adam 25k threat floral poison ivy and 11k threat emerald green lantern but I’m not sure if there a good build for him
submitted by GhostyHades to Injustice2MobileGame [link] [comments]
2023.05.28 23:36 RangerFrank Deathworld Commando: Reborn-Vol.7 Ch.158- New This, New That.
CoverVol.1PreviousNextMapsWiki+DiscordRoyal RoadWebNovelTapasKo-FiFandom/wiki
Good afternoon party people.
As a reminder, I will be going on vacation starting tomorrow. I will be gone and away from my computer and duties, so tomorrow's chapter is coming today.
There will not be a chapter Monday, June 5th. I'm uncertain if I will post at all during the week of June 5th. It all depends on when I get back and how I feel after a long plane flight.
Regardless of what I do, we will return to our regularly scheduled posting starting June 12th.
I'll miss you all, and I hope you all have a wonderful week. And for those of you in the state, I hope you enjoy having Monday off.
And for those of you who just can't wait...well...buy me a drink and get some chapters on Ko-Fi >:)
---
Kaladin Shadowheart’s POV
I finished buttoning the top button on Mila’s coat and stepped back to appreciate just how well it matched her school uniform. I had to say. I had done a great job without even meaning to.
She looked positively adorable in all red with her little hat. Even her ears poked out from the top, and now that her hair had grown more, it really helped fill her face out. She looked up at me with piercing blue eyes and an expectant look. I couldn’t help but chuckle and pat her on the head.
“You are too cute for your own good,” I told her.
A smile bloomed on her face, and she hugged the hand patting her. “Daddy is even prettier!”
Prettier, huh? Should I be happy that I’m pretty? I think I should. Better to be a pretty daddy than an ugly one, I guess.
“Are we ready to go?” I asked the person standing in the doorway with a smile on her face.
Mila ran over and hugged Sylvia. “Sylvia is pretty too!”
Sylvia stroked Mila’s hair, and her smile brightened even more. “Thank you, Mila,” she said softly. “Let’s go, shall we? We don’t want to be late for our first day of class.”
Today was the first day of school, so we were all dressed up in our school uniforms. It had been a long time since I donned the red and gold jacket of Forward University, not since I had reunited with my family. In that amount of time, I had missed a lot of school as well as essential tests and such.
It was a shame, but to be honest, I didn’t exactly need to attend classes, nor did I need to graduate. As far as I was concerned, my family came first, and I fully intended to accept whatever consequences came my way, even if that meant expulsion from the university.
However, that never came to pass as Bowen explained that all was well. Students missing class for important reasons was common enough and wouldn’t negatively reflect on them if they had sufficient proof and explanation. But that meant I had to make up all those tests, which was a hassle and something I didn’t want to do.
In the end, Bowen suggested that I simply take the tests I missed. If I passed them, then there was nothing to worry about, and I could continue with my studies as if nothing had happened. Apparently, Forward University did offer advanced placement tests in specific scenarios. After all, it would be useless to have a student take a class they didn’t actually need.
Either way, I’m not looking forward to it, even if I can pass the tests with ease.
“Hey, what is Professor Garrison doing here?” Sylvia asked as we made our way down the stairs.
Professor Garrison was at the front door, talking with my parents. He looked apologetic as he lowered his head after speaking a few times. Our eyes met, and he gave me a quick nod of greeting as well. Come to think of it. I hadn’t parted ways with him amicably the last time we met.
I didn’t mean to do that to him. Professor Garrison had always been good to me, and I appreciated him as a person, friend, and mentor. But at the time, I couldn’t let him threaten my family like that. I had my priorities, and I wasn’t afraid to handle those who wanted to threaten my family, even if they were friends.
“Good morning, Professor,” I said with a friendly nod.
“Good morning, Kaladin, Sylvia, and Mila. I’m sorry to bother you before classes, but I thought it would be best to do this now…I should have come sooner, though,” he said, regret laced in his voice.
I looked at my mother, and she just smiled softly and tilted her chin down. I figured they must have already talked and apologized. If Mom and Dad weren’t mad, then neither was I. Besides, I understood where he came from. It would be hard just to let the person who killed your comrades walk around, even if it was years ago.
“I’m sorry for my outburst in class at that time. I shouldn’t have acted so harshly toward you or your mother. And I definitely shouldn't have drawn my weapon. I’m sorry, Kaladin,” Professor Garrison said with a bow.
I patted the man on the shoulder and just smiled at him. “No need to worry. It appears that everything has already been forgotten and forgiven. And I never harbored any ill will toward you, even after that event,” I told him.
Professor Garrison slowly looked up at me. His green eyes were wide behind his glasses, and his eyebrows were high on his face. He looked genuinely shocked at something.
“Is something the matter? Is there something on my face?” I asked as I wiped at my cheeks.
Professor Garrison shook his head like he was clearing his thoughts with force. “No, no, not at all. I was just a little surprised, that's all.” Then he started laughing, and he even grinned. “It’s been so long since I’ve seen or talked to you, Kaladin. You seem like a completely different person now. No, maybe I should say you’ve finally grown up? No…that’s not quite right either…huh,” he mused with a shrug.
“Hopefully, in a good way?” I asked.
“Yeah…definitely in a good way.” His eyes turned to Sylvia, and he raised an eyebrow. “In a good way?”
“In the best way,” she told him.
Is that so? I think I’ve changed a little, hopefully for the best. If I got any worse, things would probably get ugly fast.
Professor Garrison nodded to himself in satisfaction and then chuckled. “Alright, you three, get to class. I'm going to stay here and talk to your parents for a bit. I might be a little late, so let everyone know for me.”
“Yes, Professor,” I said with a grin.
Mila and Sylvia said their goodbyes and see you laters, and we made our way outside. Forward University was buzzing with energy today as students and staff walked around campus. Even in the early morning hours, the place was truly alive for the first time in months.
We walked through the teacher and staff homes until we reached the main pathway. There were so many students out and about the walkways were actually shoulder-to-shoulder. But as we approached a four-way intersection, there was suddenly a massive traffic congestion of bodies.
Everyone was oohing and awwing as they talked amongst themselves. I followed their eyes and looked up at the giant statue that had been erected in the last few weeks in the new park that had been built. I didn’t pay much attention to it because, frankly, I didn’t care…but now I wish I did.
I gawked at the black marble statue in embarrassment. It depicted what could only be described as me, wearing fancy armor and driving a spear into a Dragon’s skull while I sat atop it triumphantly.
Never in my life had I expected to see me…like that. That’s not even how events played out. My spear never went into the Dragon’s head, and I never stood tall over it. The last time I checked, I was dying while being crushed inside of a rock face.
I really hope there are no statues of me anywhere else…
“Sylvia…remember when I asked if you knew what was going on here…did you lie?” I asked in disbelief.
Sylvia giggled to herself as she looked up at the statute. “I did, sort of. I never imagined it would be taller than the trees.” She tilted her head to the side to look at me. “I think they did a fantastic job. They really caught your general vibe and got your face almost perfect. I probably would have made you a little more handsome, though…maybe make your hair a bit longer.”
I sighed deeply. It was true. Whoever sculpted my face had done a good job at replicating it, which was better than them screwing up and making me look like a fool or too much like some fantasy hero. At least they didn’t have me yelling to the heavens or grinning like a fool. The expression was best described as stoic, which was appropriate considering the event and the number of people that had lost their lives.
“Wow…Big Daddy,” Mila mumbled to herself.
“Please don’t say that out loud, Mila,” I begged.
Then it started.
“Hey, is that him?”
“It is him, right?”
“Yeah, that’s Voker—”
“No, that’s Kaladin, you idiot.”
From there, the voices picked up exponentially, turning into a single block of loud noise. I felt all the eyes in the general vicinity flick toward me as the information of my arrival spread through the crowd. It didn’t help that I was taller than the average person which meant it was easy to spot me in a group.
“Let’s just keep walking,” I muttered.
Thankfully the crowd of onlookers did not impede our walking. They even parted to the sides to let us through, which was both good and bad for various reasons. Mila tightened her grip on my hand, most likely nervous at all the attention she was getting.
Instead of just leaving her be, I picked her up, and she instantly held onto me tightly. I personally didn’t care about fame or the attention. People have gawked at me for as long as I can remember in both of my lives, so this was nothing new. However, it clearly upset Mila, who only had bad memories of large crowds staring at her.
Sylvia and I hastened our pace to class, leaving the onlookers behind us.
—
“Wow, he actually came to class for once. It’s a miracle,” snickered Varnir.
“Indeed, it has been some time since we have all been together, has it not?” Sylas said thoughtfully.
“I suppose it has been a long time since all of us have been in class at the same time. Even Jen is back with us,” Ren said with a warm smile.
I almost forgot what it was like to be in this class…it’s good to see everyone is happy and healthy again.
Jen had put back on some healthy weight and looked far better than she had during winter. Some color had returned to her face and hair, and she smiled as she sat next to Tsarra. It was also nice to see that Tsarra wasn’t hiding under one of her spells. Perhaps Jen and Varnir would slowly whittle down her shell.
There was a solid thump as Professor Garrison dropped a stack of papers on his desk. He stared out at us, and the entire class went silent. The Professor let out a deep breath and walked to the front podium.
“It’s good to be back, everyone. I hope all of you had a wonderful, rest-filled winter break with your friends and family. I also hope that you did some studying,” he joked with a grin.
A few students groaned in annoyance, but Professor Garrison continued with his trademark smile. “So…we have much to talk about today. As you all know, today is the first day of classes despite there being no lecture. So for that, I welcome all of you to your final year here at Forward University and congratulate you all for being in Class Onward. As your teacher, I am proud of every single one of you for the trials you have overcome this previous year. We all know just how difficult of a year it was…”
The Professor trailed off for a moment before heading to the chalkboard and writing down a name. “As you all have heard, the tournament with Sandervile is being hosted in Luminar this year, which means we are going to be incredibly busy these next few months with training. Of course, those of you who have no intentions of competing will not be forced, but those of you who are interested will have to compete in the school’s preliminaries to be selected, as is tradition.”
That applies to everyone but me. As the sole person who received a golden ticket so to speak, I’m exempt from this preliminary, which is nice.
Professor Garrison pointed at the name on the board. “I’m sure you are already aware of all this. His and Her Majesty have changed this year's venue to the coastal city of Flumare. I’m sure this came as a surprise to many of you, and rest assured. It was a surprise to us as well. We only learned of this change around the same time I’m sure most of you did, especially with the addition of Saber Academy and with Tel’an’duth joining us this year. And I’m here to say that for contestants who qualify, nothing will change. The school will house, feed, and equip you free of charge, as they have done every year. For the students who are interested in traveling to the venue, the school is offering free tickets as well as free passage to the city. However, lodging is another matter that has still yet to be resolved. I’ll release the information as I get it but don’t worry too much. I'm sure we will figure something out.”
A few students whispered amongst themselves. But what the professor had said was true. For the first time ever, Tel’an’duth was sending students to the tournament, which was as historical as it sounded since this entire tournament was devised to raise and nurture students to fight against Tel’an’duth.
But now the times are changing. And Queen Maxwell was making her moves.
The professor moved to his desk and grabbed a giant scroll. He unraveled it and laid it across the board for all to see. “Now, this is probably what most of you have been waiting for, our new student standings.”
He gave us a few moments to look over the list. In all honesty, there wasn’t too much of a drastic change overall. However, the top five students had changed significantly, and everyone else sort of moved to reflect that change, staying within one or two spots of their previous ranks.
It was also nice to see that Jen had actually stayed the exact same. It was probably due to the Dragon incident keeping her out of school for so long. If she were to be punished for that, it would have been a heartbreaking penalty.
But…there was a new number one on the board…which I didn’t think was necessary.
“I’m sure that there are very few of you who have complaints about the new number one student. Honestly, giving reasons as to why he shouldn’t be number one would be hard. Well, maybe besides his constant absences,” Professor Garrison said with a grin as he winked at me. “Academically, Kaladin has achieved top marks since his arrival last year, only ever stumbling in his Beastmen language studies. And as for his merits outside of the class and in physical examinations, what else is there to say? Please, everyone, give a clap for our new number one student.”
The class erupted into claps and a few cheers as everyone turned to me. It was a relief to see that people weren’t in an uproar over it. Which I thought would happen since I had missed so much school. But perhaps I had just become too much of a figure to be denied that spot.
I even looked at Lin, and she just winked at me. She had no qualms about relinquishing the position she had maintained all these years. However, I did feel somewhat bad for dethroning her.
“Daddy is number one!” Mila said as she sat up in my lap and hugged me.
Well, this isn’t so bad.
“Now, now, then. We will go over the top five as it has changed the most. Linnetia Paine, although you are now second, I hope you are not discouraged in the slightest,” he said as he eyed Lin.
Lin bowed her head graciously. “Being second to the Dragonslayer is hardly a downgrade. On the contrary, perhaps it’s even more of an upgrade. I have no problems with my ranking, and I am more than happy to congratulate Kaladin,” she said, her voice kind yet firm.
As expected of the next head of the Paine family. I almost forgot that Lin was a noble now.
Everyone clapped at that, and Professor Garrison continued. “Congratulations to Arene Maxwell for successfully holding onto the third-ranked position. In such chaotic times, I believe that shows just how much you have grown.”
Ren bowed her head while everyone clapped for her. “Now, to our new fourth-placed student, Tsarra Tel’an’duth, congratulations on your new ranking. You have by far improved the most out of any previous student. Even though you were not officially recognized for your act of bravery against the Dragon, the school has decided to do this much for a hero. You have also shown incredible growth in your magic, officially reaching the mage rank of Grandmaster. And as to be expected of a princess, your academics are outstanding, and the school has even published your book on illusion magic.”
The room erupted into clapping once more, and I watched Sylvia put a hand to her chin. “She wrote a book? That’s impressive,” Sylvia muttered quietly to herself.
“Is it that surprising? I think she is more than capable of that,” I told her.
“I guess we have two very different images of her then,” Sylvia whispered.
Tsarra, at first glance, seemed to be a shy, introverted girl. And that was because she was. Although she had changed steadily since I met her, her nature was still much the same. However, she became a completely different person when it came to reading books.
And it turned out it wasn’t only reading books she was passionate about but writing them too.
I turned in my seat and clapped for her, but Tsarra looked about ready to explode. Her face was redder than her hair from all the attention. I was afraid she would burst a blood vessel with how hard she clenched her jaw.
Well, some things change. And some things don’t.
“And, of course, another congratulations is in order to our new fifth-ranked student, Varnir Shadowstone. Varnir, you are easily the second most improved student in Class Onward, only falling short of Tsarra slightly in academics, which you have improved greatly in and in outside achievements. However, your prowess in your physical testing has improved dramatically. Once again, congratulations, Varnir,” Professor said, his voice full of praise.
“Hey, look at that! I almost caught up to you,” Varnir said with a chuckle as he hugged Tsarra by the shoulder.
If Tsarra wasn't embarrassed already, that was enough to kill her. I watched as the air around Tsarra wobbled and warped, and she disappeared completely in a blink of an eye. It was amazing that she lasted that long in the first place.
Sylvia grumbled some things under her breath about beating Varnir on the first day of school but still being ranked below him, and surprisingly, even with the clapping, Professor Garrison heard her. “Sylvia, I imagine many people are confused as to why you are only ranked eighth. It’s no surprise that you played a critical role in the Dragon incident, and many people, including myself, owe our lives to you. I think I speak for everyone when I say thank you for saving us. Also, your physical prowess is something to remark on. If we based rankings solely on that, you would be in the top five, no questions asked. However, we take more into account. To be honest, your academic abilities fall short of the class average, which is nothing to be ashamed of. And if rankings were to be recalculated today, your outside achievements would have doubled even more considering your involvement with Dragonheart Foundation. Regardless of your rank, we should all congratulate President Sylvia of the Dragonheart Foundation, who will give us a speech tonight at the school banquet.”
Everyone in the class clapped loudly for Sylvia. It seemed that despite her being a Vampire, many students felt that she had done something remarkable, which was the absolute truth. Sylvia deserved all the praise and more.
“Congratulations, Miss President,” I said with a grin.
“Shut up…” she whimpered, her ears burning red.
“Sylvia is number two to Daddy!” Mila squealed as she rolled off my lap and into Syliva’s arms.
Sylvia looked surprised for a moment but hugged Mila back, the two of them touching heads. “I guess being second to Daddy is okay…” Sylvia muttered.
Professor Garrison took a swig of water and let out a deep sigh. “Sadly, we don’t have time to go over everyone’s rankings today. We would be here all day if we did. For those of you who have complaints or want to know how you were ranked, please head to the counselor's office. They will give you your breakdown there.” The professor clapped and put his hands on his hips. “Now, onto the next and hopefully last article for today. I would like to welcome three new students to Class Onward. And before you ask, I understand that it’s a bit late to be accepting new students into our class. And the school agrees. It’s best to consider these three as… short-term transfer students with exceptional skills and circumstances. Although they will not graduate with you, they may just become teachers one day, so please treat them well and warmly welcome them to our class.”
Everyone clapped once more as the door to the room opened. I was clapping as well, only to stop in surprise. I’m sure I had a dumb expression on my face as I watched the two familiar faces walk in. I had no idea they would attend Forward University, let alone join the class. They had somehow managed to keep this a secret.
The first to walk forward was none other than Padraic. The young Dwarf looked dashing in his gold and red jacket. He left the jacket hang open, exposing the black dress shirt underneath.
He had his trademark grin as he eyed me across the room. I’m sure he was positively reveling in my surprise. And I had a feeling he was about to say something outrageous in an attempt to embarrass me.
Professor Garrison motioned for Padraic to introduce himself, and the Dwarf cleared his throat as all eyes turned to him. “It’s good to meet all of you and all that good fun. My name is Padraic Whitehelm, and to be honest, I’m really only here to use the forges and the school’s resources, and since I had to take classes to do so, I figured I would join the class with my brother from another mother and my two future fiancees. So uh…yeah, that’s it, really.”
Oh, he boldly declared that. At least his embarrassment was targeted at…wait…two fiancees? Who's the second? Did I miss something?
I thought that as I looked back at Jen. Much like Tsarra, she was beside herself as she hid her face in her arms. It seemed she wanted to run away. I scanned the room for the second so-called future fiancee, but it didn’t seem like anyone was reacting to that statement, so I had no idea who it was.
The class clapped somewhat awkwardly but was more or less mumbling to each other. Padraic’s brazen entrance no doubt shocked quite a few students. But that was Padraic for you. He never cared what others thought of him.
Professor Garrison chuckled awkwardly to himself. “Well, that was something. But a little background on our new student is that he not only passed the entrance exam but tested in the top one percent of advanced mathematics, not only in this class but the entire school. Padraic here also impressed both the forge and smithing teachers, earning their respect with a single demo. As well as being an Opal adventurer with three years of experience.”
With a little more context, it seemed that assuaged anyone’s worries, and they put more excitement into their applause. I had no idea he placed so high in math, but Padraic was always good at it. Even back in the day, he took to math faster than Cerila. But that was only when he was actually focusing and not goofing around or teasing me…
And good for him on impressing two teachers at Forward University with one demonstration is definitely something to be proud of. He did make my new bow, which was expertly crafted.
Next up was also a surprise. She looked stunning in her uniform, and it was hard to look away. Her long snow-white hair flowed down to her hips as her new jacket fit snugly around her upper body, accentuating her athletic and curvy physique. And her white and gold skirt was—
“Why is her skirt shorter than everyone else’s? What’s with that crap?” Sylvia growled in a low voice as she glared down at Cerila.
It’s uh…true…Cerila’s skirt, for some reason or another, was shorter than the norm. And it only exposed her long toned yet pale legs even more as she chose to wear short white socks.
I felt Sylvia’s glare turn to me in my absence of a response, but I just kept my eyes forward, fully intent on not meeting her gaze. I felt that no matter what I said, I would be wrong. And it would only open me up for criticism. So the best course of action was to say nothing.
Cerila went over to the board and quickly chalked up a hand that was leaving a head, as well as her name. To an untrained eye, it looked to be as if she drew someone saluting followed by her name in Human. But it was actually a depiction of someone signing hello.
And it was accurate as well as being well drawn. I guess years of drawing on that tablet are coming into play.
Once she was done, she turned around to face the class and repeated the motion for the sign. From there, Professor Garrison took over. “First of all, please welcome Cerila to the class. Although she can’t hear any of you, the gesture still has meaning for her.”
The class looked confused, and a few people muttered to each other, but after a pointed glare from the teacher, everyone quickly gave a round of applause to welcome her. “As some of you have guessed, Cerila is deaf and can not hear you, but that does not mean she can’t talk to you. And although you may think of this as a hindrance, Cerila has lived her entire life this way and has not only adapted but flourished. She passed the school’s entrance exam and tested out of master-level language classes for both Elvish and Human, being able to read and write fluently to the level of a translator. Not only that, Cerila is fluent in a completely new language called Sign Language. As a result, she is able to communicate in everyday conversation with others despite not verbally speaking a single word. She also shows martial prowess that is to be recognized, as she has achieved the adventurer rank of Topaz in only three years. For those of you who are unaware, that is an accomplishment beyond what a normal person is capable of, especially someone so young.”
Upon his further explanation of Cerila’s exploits and achievements, the room did a collective nod of approval and gave her one more final applause. Cerila flashed a stunning smile at everyone, and with Padraic next to her, the two of them walked straight up the steps and toward me.
“Are they really going…what a pain,” Sylvia grumbled quietly to herself.
Sure enough, the two took open seats to my left, with Cerila right next to me. She smiled brightly at me and even let out a noise that was the same as her giggling. she asked.
I told her.
Cerila was about to sign to me again, but I poked her as Professor Garrison cleared his throat loudly. “Now then, would the final student please introduce himself?”
The third student had been quietly standing to the side. At first glance, he seemed…odd, and I found it hard to tell how old he was for some reason. He wore the school uniform just the same as everyone else, and as a tiger Beastmen, he didn’t appear to have overwhelming physical size but was a rather average build. His tiger-like ears poked out from his long hair that was poofed up while being the color of brownish dried blood.
But the oddest thing about him was those dark-tinted glasses he wore over his eyes…they seemed almost like sunglasses, which was weird since we were indoors and the room could hardly be described as bright.
The Beastmen had a proper air about him, almost like a noble, which was all but confirmed as he dipped into an elegant bow straight out of a book on manners.
“My name is Malachi Talgan, and I am the crown prince of the Principality of Nul. It’s an honor to be here,” he said in a velvety smooth voice.
Malachi also took his glasses off, exposing his unswirling Vampiric blood-red eyes to the class. But unlike Sylvia, who possessed entirely crimson eyes, Malachi’s eyes were like that of a half-moon of red, leaving the rest of his iris a dead-looking white color. Of course, I only had two other Vampires besides Sylvia to compare to, but Malachi’s eyes had far more red than the Vampire who kidnapped me and even more than the Vampire diplomat I saw in Sandervile.
And did he just say his last name was Talgan?
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Good afternoon party people.
As a reminder, I will be going on vacation starting tomorrow. I will be gone and away from my computer and duties, so tomorrow's chapter is coming today.
There will not be a chapter Monday, June 5th. I'm uncertain if I will post at all during the week of June 5th. It all depends on when I get back and how I feel after a long plane flight.
Regardless of what I do, we will return to our regularly scheduled posting starting June 12th.
I'll miss you all, and I hope you all have a wonderful week. And for those of you in the state, I hope you enjoy having Monday off.
And for those of you who just can't wait...well...buy me a drink and get some chapters on Ko-Fi >:)
---
Kaladin Shadowheart’s POV
I finished buttoning the top button on Mila’s coat and stepped back to appreciate just how well it matched her school uniform. I had to say. I had done a great job without even meaning to.
She looked positively adorable in all red with her little hat. Even her ears poked out from the top, and now that her hair had grown more, it really helped fill her face out. She looked up at me with piercing blue eyes and an expectant look. I couldn’t help but chuckle and pat her on the head.
“You are too cute for your own good,” I told her.
A smile bloomed on her face, and she hugged the hand patting her. “Daddy is even prettier!”
Prettier, huh? Should I be happy that I’m pretty? I think I should. Better to be a pretty daddy than an ugly one, I guess.
“Are we ready to go?” I asked the person standing in the doorway with a smile on her face.
Mila ran over and hugged Sylvia. “Sylvia is pretty too!”
Sylvia stroked Mila’s hair, and her smile brightened even more. “Thank you, Mila,” she said softly. “Let’s go, shall we? We don’t want to be late for our first day of class.”
Today was the first day of school, so we were all dressed up in our school uniforms. It had been a long time since I donned the red and gold jacket of Forward University, not since I had reunited with my family. In that amount of time, I had missed a lot of school as well as essential tests and such.
It was a shame, but to be honest, I didn’t exactly need to attend classes, nor did I need to graduate. As far as I was concerned, my family came first, and I fully intended to accept whatever consequences came my way, even if that meant expulsion from the university.
However, that never came to pass as Bowen explained that all was well. Students missing class for important reasons was common enough and wouldn’t negatively reflect on them if they had sufficient proof and explanation. But that meant I had to make up all those tests, which was a hassle and something I didn’t want to do.
In the end, Bowen suggested that I simply take the tests I missed. If I passed them, then there was nothing to worry about, and I could continue with my studies as if nothing had happened. Apparently, Forward University did offer advanced placement tests in specific scenarios. After all, it would be useless to have a student take a class they didn’t actually need.
Either way, I’m not looking forward to it, even if I can pass the tests with ease.
“Hey, what is Professor Garrison doing here?” Sylvia asked as we made our way down the stairs.
Professor Garrison was at the front door, talking with my parents. He looked apologetic as he lowered his head after speaking a few times. Our eyes met, and he gave me a quick nod of greeting as well. Come to think of it. I hadn’t parted ways with him amicably the last time we met.
I didn’t mean to do that to him. Professor Garrison had always been good to me, and I appreciated him as a person, friend, and mentor. But at the time, I couldn’t let him threaten my family like that. I had my priorities, and I wasn’t afraid to handle those who wanted to threaten my family, even if they were friends.
“Good morning, Professor,” I said with a friendly nod.
“Good morning, Kaladin, Sylvia, and Mila. I’m sorry to bother you before classes, but I thought it would be best to do this now…I should have come sooner, though,” he said, regret laced in his voice.
I looked at my mother, and she just smiled softly and tilted her chin down. I figured they must have already talked and apologized. If Mom and Dad weren’t mad, then neither was I. Besides, I understood where he came from. It would be hard just to let the person who killed your comrades walk around, even if it was years ago.
“I’m sorry for my outburst in class at that time. I shouldn’t have acted so harshly toward you or your mother. And I definitely shouldn't have drawn my weapon. I’m sorry, Kaladin,” Professor Garrison said with a bow.
I patted the man on the shoulder and just smiled at him. “No need to worry. It appears that everything has already been forgotten and forgiven. And I never harbored any ill will toward you, even after that event,” I told him.
Professor Garrison slowly looked up at me. His green eyes were wide behind his glasses, and his eyebrows were high on his face. He looked genuinely shocked at something.
“Is something the matter? Is there something on my face?” I asked as I wiped at my cheeks.
Professor Garrison shook his head like he was clearing his thoughts with force. “No, no, not at all. I was just a little surprised, that's all.” Then he started laughing, and he even grinned. “It’s been so long since I’ve seen or talked to you, Kaladin. You seem like a completely different person now. No, maybe I should say you’ve finally grown up? No…that’s not quite right either…huh,” he mused with a shrug.
“Hopefully, in a good way?” I asked.
“Yeah…definitely in a good way.” His eyes turned to Sylvia, and he raised an eyebrow. “In a good way?”
“In the best way,” she told him.
Is that so? I think I’ve changed a little, hopefully for the best. If I got any worse, things would probably get ugly fast.
Professor Garrison nodded to himself in satisfaction and then chuckled. “Alright, you three, get to class. I'm going to stay here and talk to your parents for a bit. I might be a little late, so let everyone know for me.”
“Yes, Professor,” I said with a grin.
Mila and Sylvia said their goodbyes and see you laters, and we made our way outside. Forward University was buzzing with energy today as students and staff walked around campus. Even in the early morning hours, the place was truly alive for the first time in months.
We walked through the teacher and staff homes until we reached the main pathway. There were so many students out and about the walkways were actually shoulder-to-shoulder. But as we approached a four-way intersection, there was suddenly a massive traffic congestion of bodies.
Everyone was oohing and awwing as they talked amongst themselves. I followed their eyes and looked up at the giant statue that had been erected in the last few weeks in the new park that had been built. I didn’t pay much attention to it because, frankly, I didn’t care…but now I wish I did.
I gawked at the black marble statue in embarrassment. It depicted what could only be described as me, wearing fancy armor and driving a spear into a Dragon’s skull while I sat atop it triumphantly.
Never in my life had I expected to see me…like that. That’s not even how events played out. My spear never went into the Dragon’s head, and I never stood tall over it. The last time I checked, I was dying while being crushed inside of a rock face.
I really hope there are no statues of me anywhere else…
“Sylvia…remember when I asked if you knew what was going on here…did you lie?” I asked in disbelief.
Sylvia giggled to herself as she looked up at the statute. “I did, sort of. I never imagined it would be taller than the trees.” She tilted her head to the side to look at me. “I think they did a fantastic job. They really caught your general vibe and got your face almost perfect. I probably would have made you a little more handsome, though…maybe make your hair a bit longer.”
I sighed deeply. It was true. Whoever sculpted my face had done a good job at replicating it, which was better than them screwing up and making me look like a fool or too much like some fantasy hero. At least they didn’t have me yelling to the heavens or grinning like a fool. The expression was best described as stoic, which was appropriate considering the event and the number of people that had lost their lives.
“Wow…Big Daddy,” Mila mumbled to herself.
“Please don’t say that out loud, Mila,” I begged.
Then it started.
“Hey, is that him?”
“It is him, right?”
“Yeah, that’s Voker—”
“No, that’s Kaladin, you idiot.”
From there, the voices picked up exponentially, turning into a single block of loud noise. I felt all the eyes in the general vicinity flick toward me as the information of my arrival spread through the crowd. It didn’t help that I was taller than the average person which meant it was easy to spot me in a group.
“Let’s just keep walking,” I muttered.
Thankfully the crowd of onlookers did not impede our walking. They even parted to the sides to let us through, which was both good and bad for various reasons. Mila tightened her grip on my hand, most likely nervous at all the attention she was getting.
Instead of just leaving her be, I picked her up, and she instantly held onto me tightly. I personally didn’t care about fame or the attention. People have gawked at me for as long as I can remember in both of my lives, so this was nothing new. However, it clearly upset Mila, who only had bad memories of large crowds staring at her.
Sylvia and I hastened our pace to class, leaving the onlookers behind us.
—
“Wow, he actually came to class for once. It’s a miracle,” snickered Varnir.
“Indeed, it has been some time since we have all been together, has it not?” Sylas said thoughtfully.
“I suppose it has been a long time since all of us have been in class at the same time. Even Jen is back with us,” Ren said with a warm smile.
I almost forgot what it was like to be in this class…it’s good to see everyone is happy and healthy again.
Jen had put back on some healthy weight and looked far better than she had during winter. Some color had returned to her face and hair, and she smiled as she sat next to Tsarra. It was also nice to see that Tsarra wasn’t hiding under one of her spells. Perhaps Jen and Varnir would slowly whittle down her shell.
There was a solid thump as Professor Garrison dropped a stack of papers on his desk. He stared out at us, and the entire class went silent. The Professor let out a deep breath and walked to the front podium.
“It’s good to be back, everyone. I hope all of you had a wonderful, rest-filled winter break with your friends and family. I also hope that you did some studying,” he joked with a grin.
A few students groaned in annoyance, but Professor Garrison continued with his trademark smile. “So…we have much to talk about today. As you all know, today is the first day of classes despite there being no lecture. So for that, I welcome all of you to your final year here at Forward University and congratulate you all for being in Class Onward. As your teacher, I am proud of every single one of you for the trials you have overcome this previous year. We all know just how difficult of a year it was…”
The Professor trailed off for a moment before heading to the chalkboard and writing down a name. “As you all have heard, the tournament with Sandervile is being hosted in Luminar this year, which means we are going to be incredibly busy these next few months with training. Of course, those of you who have no intentions of competing will not be forced, but those of you who are interested will have to compete in the school’s preliminaries to be selected, as is tradition.”
That applies to everyone but me. As the sole person who received a golden ticket so to speak, I’m exempt from this preliminary, which is nice.
Professor Garrison pointed at the name on the board. “I’m sure you are already aware of all this. His and Her Majesty have changed this year's venue to the coastal city of Flumare. I’m sure this came as a surprise to many of you, and rest assured. It was a surprise to us as well. We only learned of this change around the same time I’m sure most of you did, especially with the addition of Saber Academy and with Tel’an’duth joining us this year. And I’m here to say that for contestants who qualify, nothing will change. The school will house, feed, and equip you free of charge, as they have done every year. For the students who are interested in traveling to the venue, the school is offering free tickets as well as free passage to the city. However, lodging is another matter that has still yet to be resolved. I’ll release the information as I get it but don’t worry too much. I'm sure we will figure something out.”
A few students whispered amongst themselves. But what the professor had said was true. For the first time ever, Tel’an’duth was sending students to the tournament, which was as historical as it sounded since this entire tournament was devised to raise and nurture students to fight against Tel’an’duth.
But now the times are changing. And Queen Maxwell was making her moves.
The professor moved to his desk and grabbed a giant scroll. He unraveled it and laid it across the board for all to see. “Now, this is probably what most of you have been waiting for, our new student standings.”
He gave us a few moments to look over the list. In all honesty, there wasn’t too much of a drastic change overall. However, the top five students had changed significantly, and everyone else sort of moved to reflect that change, staying within one or two spots of their previous ranks.
It was also nice to see that Jen had actually stayed the exact same. It was probably due to the Dragon incident keeping her out of school for so long. If she were to be punished for that, it would have been a heartbreaking penalty.
But…there was a new number one on the board…which I didn’t think was necessary.
“I’m sure that there are very few of you who have complaints about the new number one student. Honestly, giving reasons as to why he shouldn’t be number one would be hard. Well, maybe besides his constant absences,” Professor Garrison said with a grin as he winked at me. “Academically, Kaladin has achieved top marks since his arrival last year, only ever stumbling in his Beastmen language studies. And as for his merits outside of the class and in physical examinations, what else is there to say? Please, everyone, give a clap for our new number one student.”
The class erupted into claps and a few cheers as everyone turned to me. It was a relief to see that people weren’t in an uproar over it. Which I thought would happen since I had missed so much school. But perhaps I had just become too much of a figure to be denied that spot.
I even looked at Lin, and she just winked at me. She had no qualms about relinquishing the position she had maintained all these years. However, I did feel somewhat bad for dethroning her.
“Daddy is number one!” Mila said as she sat up in my lap and hugged me.
Well, this isn’t so bad.
“Now, now, then. We will go over the top five as it has changed the most. Linnetia Paine, although you are now second, I hope you are not discouraged in the slightest,” he said as he eyed Lin.
Lin bowed her head graciously. “Being second to the Dragonslayer is hardly a downgrade. On the contrary, perhaps it’s even more of an upgrade. I have no problems with my ranking, and I am more than happy to congratulate Kaladin,” she said, her voice kind yet firm.
As expected of the next head of the Paine family. I almost forgot that Lin was a noble now.
Everyone clapped at that, and Professor Garrison continued. “Congratulations to Arene Maxwell for successfully holding onto the third-ranked position. In such chaotic times, I believe that shows just how much you have grown.”
Ren bowed her head while everyone clapped for her. “Now, to our new fourth-placed student, Tsarra Tel’an’duth, congratulations on your new ranking. You have by far improved the most out of any previous student. Even though you were not officially recognized for your act of bravery against the Dragon, the school has decided to do this much for a hero. You have also shown incredible growth in your magic, officially reaching the mage rank of Grandmaster. And as to be expected of a princess, your academics are outstanding, and the school has even published your book on illusion magic.”
The room erupted into clapping once more, and I watched Sylvia put a hand to her chin. “She wrote a book? That’s impressive,” Sylvia muttered quietly to herself.
“Is it that surprising? I think she is more than capable of that,” I told her.
“I guess we have two very different images of her then,” Sylvia whispered.
Tsarra, at first glance, seemed to be a shy, introverted girl. And that was because she was. Although she had changed steadily since I met her, her nature was still much the same. However, she became a completely different person when it came to reading books.
And it turned out it wasn’t only reading books she was passionate about but writing them too.
I turned in my seat and clapped for her, but Tsarra looked about ready to explode. Her face was redder than her hair from all the attention. I was afraid she would burst a blood vessel with how hard she clenched her jaw.
Well, some things change. And some things don’t.
“And, of course, another congratulations is in order to our new fifth-ranked student, Varnir Shadowstone. Varnir, you are easily the second most improved student in Class Onward, only falling short of Tsarra slightly in academics, which you have improved greatly in and in outside achievements. However, your prowess in your physical testing has improved dramatically. Once again, congratulations, Varnir,” Professor said, his voice full of praise.
“Hey, look at that! I almost caught up to you,” Varnir said with a chuckle as he hugged Tsarra by the shoulder.
If Tsarra wasn't embarrassed already, that was enough to kill her. I watched as the air around Tsarra wobbled and warped, and she disappeared completely in a blink of an eye. It was amazing that she lasted that long in the first place.
Sylvia grumbled some things under her breath about beating Varnir on the first day of school but still being ranked below him, and surprisingly, even with the clapping, Professor Garrison heard her. “Sylvia, I imagine many people are confused as to why you are only ranked eighth. It’s no surprise that you played a critical role in the Dragon incident, and many people, including myself, owe our lives to you. I think I speak for everyone when I say thank you for saving us. Also, your physical prowess is something to remark on. If we based rankings solely on that, you would be in the top five, no questions asked. However, we take more into account. To be honest, your academic abilities fall short of the class average, which is nothing to be ashamed of. And if rankings were to be recalculated today, your outside achievements would have doubled even more considering your involvement with Dragonheart Foundation. Regardless of your rank, we should all congratulate President Sylvia of the Dragonheart Foundation, who will give us a speech tonight at the school banquet.”
Everyone in the class clapped loudly for Sylvia. It seemed that despite her being a Vampire, many students felt that she had done something remarkable, which was the absolute truth. Sylvia deserved all the praise and more.
“Congratulations, Miss President,” I said with a grin.
“Shut up…” she whimpered, her ears burning red.
“Sylvia is number two to Daddy!” Mila squealed as she rolled off my lap and into Syliva’s arms.
Sylvia looked surprised for a moment but hugged Mila back, the two of them touching heads. “I guess being second to Daddy is okay…” Sylvia muttered.
Professor Garrison took a swig of water and let out a deep sigh. “Sadly, we don’t have time to go over everyone’s rankings today. We would be here all day if we did. For those of you who have complaints or want to know how you were ranked, please head to the counselor's office. They will give you your breakdown there.” The professor clapped and put his hands on his hips. “Now, onto the next and hopefully last article for today. I would like to welcome three new students to Class Onward. And before you ask, I understand that it’s a bit late to be accepting new students into our class. And the school agrees. It’s best to consider these three as… short-term transfer students with exceptional skills and circumstances. Although they will not graduate with you, they may just become teachers one day, so please treat them well and warmly welcome them to our class.”
Everyone clapped once more as the door to the room opened. I was clapping as well, only to stop in surprise. I’m sure I had a dumb expression on my face as I watched the two familiar faces walk in. I had no idea they would attend Forward University, let alone join the class. They had somehow managed to keep this a secret.
The first to walk forward was none other than Padraic. The young Dwarf looked dashing in his gold and red jacket. He left the jacket hang open, exposing the black dress shirt underneath.
He had his trademark grin as he eyed me across the room. I’m sure he was positively reveling in my surprise. And I had a feeling he was about to say something outrageous in an attempt to embarrass me.
Professor Garrison motioned for Padraic to introduce himself, and the Dwarf cleared his throat as all eyes turned to him. “It’s good to meet all of you and all that good fun. My name is Padraic Whitehelm, and to be honest, I’m really only here to use the forges and the school’s resources, and since I had to take classes to do so, I figured I would join the class with my brother from another mother and my two future fiancees. So uh…yeah, that’s it, really.”
Oh, he boldly declared that. At least his embarrassment was targeted at…wait…two fiancees? Who's the second? Did I miss something?
I thought that as I looked back at Jen. Much like Tsarra, she was beside herself as she hid her face in her arms. It seemed she wanted to run away. I scanned the room for the second so-called future fiancee, but it didn’t seem like anyone was reacting to that statement, so I had no idea who it was.
The class clapped somewhat awkwardly but was more or less mumbling to each other. Padraic’s brazen entrance no doubt shocked quite a few students. But that was Padraic for you. He never cared what others thought of him.
Professor Garrison chuckled awkwardly to himself. “Well, that was something. But a little background on our new student is that he not only passed the entrance exam but tested in the top one percent of advanced mathematics, not only in this class but the entire school. Padraic here also impressed both the forge and smithing teachers, earning their respect with a single demo. As well as being an Opal adventurer with three years of experience.”
With a little more context, it seemed that assuaged anyone’s worries, and they put more excitement into their applause. I had no idea he placed so high in math, but Padraic was always good at it. Even back in the day, he took to math faster than Cerila. But that was only when he was actually focusing and not goofing around or teasing me…
And good for him on impressing two teachers at Forward University with one demonstration is definitely something to be proud of. He did make my new bow, which was expertly crafted.
Next up was also a surprise. She looked stunning in her uniform, and it was hard to look away. Her long snow-white hair flowed down to her hips as her new jacket fit snugly around her upper body, accentuating her athletic and curvy physique. And her white and gold skirt was—
“Why is her skirt shorter than everyone else’s? What’s with that crap?” Sylvia growled in a low voice as she glared down at Cerila.
It’s uh…true…Cerila’s skirt, for some reason or another, was shorter than the norm. And it only exposed her long toned yet pale legs even more as she chose to wear short white socks.
I felt Sylvia’s glare turn to me in my absence of a response, but I just kept my eyes forward, fully intent on not meeting her gaze. I felt that no matter what I said, I would be wrong. And it would only open me up for criticism. So the best course of action was to say nothing.
Cerila went over to the board and quickly chalked up a hand that was leaving a head, as well as her name. To an untrained eye, it looked to be as if she drew someone saluting followed by her name in Human. But it was actually a depiction of someone signing hello.
And it was accurate as well as being well drawn. I guess years of drawing on that tablet are coming into play.
Once she was done, she turned around to face the class and repeated the motion for the sign. From there, Professor Garrison took over. “First of all, please welcome Cerila to the class. Although she can’t hear any of you, the gesture still has meaning for her.”
The class looked confused, and a few people muttered to each other, but after a pointed glare from the teacher, everyone quickly gave a round of applause to welcome her. “As some of you have guessed, Cerila is deaf and can not hear you, but that does not mean she can’t talk to you. And although you may think of this as a hindrance, Cerila has lived her entire life this way and has not only adapted but flourished. She passed the school’s entrance exam and tested out of master-level language classes for both Elvish and Human, being able to read and write fluently to the level of a translator. Not only that, Cerila is fluent in a completely new language called Sign Language. As a result, she is able to communicate in everyday conversation with others despite not verbally speaking a single word. She also shows martial prowess that is to be recognized, as she has achieved the adventurer rank of Topaz in only three years. For those of you who are unaware, that is an accomplishment beyond what a normal person is capable of, especially someone so young.”
Upon his further explanation of Cerila’s exploits and achievements, the room did a collective nod of approval and gave her one more final applause. Cerila flashed a stunning smile at everyone, and with Padraic next to her, the two of them walked straight up the steps and toward me.
“Are they really going…what a pain,” Sylvia grumbled quietly to herself.
Sure enough, the two took open seats to my left, with Cerila right next to me. She smiled brightly at me and even let out a noise that was the same as her giggling.
Cerila was about to sign to me again, but I poked her as Professor Garrison cleared his throat loudly. “Now then, would the final student please introduce himself?”
The third student had been quietly standing to the side. At first glance, he seemed…odd, and I found it hard to tell how old he was for some reason. He wore the school uniform just the same as everyone else, and as a tiger Beastmen, he didn’t appear to have overwhelming physical size but was a rather average build. His tiger-like ears poked out from his long hair that was poofed up while being the color of brownish dried blood.
But the oddest thing about him was those dark-tinted glasses he wore over his eyes…they seemed almost like sunglasses, which was weird since we were indoors and the room could hardly be described as bright.
The Beastmen had a proper air about him, almost like a noble, which was all but confirmed as he dipped into an elegant bow straight out of a book on manners.
“My name is Malachi Talgan, and I am the crown prince of the Principality of Nul. It’s an honor to be here,” he said in a velvety smooth voice.
Malachi also took his glasses off, exposing his unswirling Vampiric blood-red eyes to the class. But unlike Sylvia, who possessed entirely crimson eyes, Malachi’s eyes were like that of a half-moon of red, leaving the rest of his iris a dead-looking white color. Of course, I only had two other Vampires besides Sylvia to compare to, but Malachi’s eyes had far more red than the Vampire who kidnapped me and even more than the Vampire diplomat I saw in Sandervile.
And did he just say his last name was Talgan?
Next
2023.05.28 23:29 gunterthedestroyer 29 [f4m/t] SC/USA- Looking for my weirdo
I'm admittingly pretty weird and I have no shame. Is it off putting to a lot of people? Yes. So, I'm looking for someone who can vibe with that. I sing to my dog and I don't think she likes it very much. I talk to myself outloud...in Public...even at work.
I'm looking for someone who knows how to be verbally affectionate without being creepy. There's a fine balance! But affectionate is an absolute need! I want goodnight calls and goodmorning texts. Verbal affection is super important to me. My love language is words of affirmation.
Don't use the chat if you can help it.
No married men. 25+. PLEASE be from the US or Canada.
Here's some true (and only slightly facts about me)
submitted by gunterthedestroyer to ForeverAloneDating [link] [comments]
I'm looking for someone who knows how to be verbally affectionate without being creepy. There's a fine balance! But affectionate is an absolute need! I want goodnight calls and goodmorning texts. Verbal affection is super important to me. My love language is words of affirmation.
Don't use the chat if you can help it.
No married men. 25+. PLEASE be from the US or Canada.
Here's some true (and only slightly facts about me)
- I often buy shit I don't need…bought a blanket for my cat (in my defense I bought it from goodwill and it was new) and a stocking for my dog. She ruins every sweater I buy…but yet I keep buying them.
- My favorite color is green but it's a special shade. It's like between forest green and emerald. Maybe a dark emerald?
- I have a shit load of siblings.
- My music taste hasn't changed much since high school. I make this huge playlist to only listen to the same songs over and over and over. But sometimes I'll find new (to me) artists...but they're still on the same wavelength if things I listened to in high school
- I'm infj and hufflepuff
- I like hugs, nice sounding voices, and tattoos...and beards are nice too
- I have a really bad memory and lose my shit allll the time. I've left so many things at my sister's house.
- My ideal living situation involves bunkbeds so that there's plenty of room for activities
- I work at a Montessori school. Trying to become a teacher eventually.
- I watch a lot of nonsense TV to relax...SpongeBob is still my jam. I even have SpongeBob shoes
- I don't care if you're ftm or nonbinary. If we click, we click/t] SC/USA- Looking for my weirdo