14k gold cross necklace for boy
Hot girls in tight skirts
2016.10.27 21:27 Hot girls in tight skirts
Hot girls in tight skirts: simple as that. (Tight dresses are tolerated)
2020.03.02 11:50 elysiablack F1NN5TER
A subreddit for fans of F1NN5TERose, a YouTuber and crossdressing Twitch streamer.
2012.03.25 11:18 100101 alias 2023='echo "YEAR OF THE DESKTOP"'
A quiet little sub where people politely discuss common interests surrounding Linux while drinking tea with quiet music playing in the background.
2023.05.29 18:02 Volodio The third ruler of the new Argead dynasty
First part here
Second part here
Alexandros spent the year 934 and 935 making sure people would follow him and not go back to the Basileus. He went to the different nobles and appeased their concern, even giving them more autonomy. In 935, he also defeated a popular revolt within his lands. He even made a deal with Leon VI for no interference in exchange for sending more soldiers in the wars of the Eastern Roman Empire, though they had not been many at the time.
In 936, Alexandros VI attacked the Aplakes for Thessalonika. He sent his general Loukas with 2 300 men to fight the war. The Aplakes called other noble houses for help. Some accepted, but Leon VI ignored the war as he started one of his own against the Muslims. Loukas faced the Roman nobles, who had 2 000 soldiers, at the Battle of Kalyvia in May 937 and defeated them. The Aplakes negotiated, with several noble houses of the region, for a surrender in exchange for keeping their lands, titles and privileges. Alexandros accepted as it spared him the need to besiege their cities. Loukas was rewarded with the hand of Alexandros’ daughter, Gabriella.
In 938, Leon VI died in his bed. He was succeeded by Leon VII, who was 14 at the time, and because Alexandros VI was the most powerful of the Basileus’ generals, he was invited to be part of the council who would rule the country before his majority.
In 939, the despot sent Loukas with 2 000 men, including Hephaistion who was here to get some experience, to attack the Skleros for Demetrias. The war was quickly won, despite some other noble houses deciding to oppose Alexandros, and Loukas was rewarded with the land newly taken. Once he came back from the campaign, Hephaistion married Helene.
In 941, a civil war started in the Eastern Roman Empire. Many of the noble houses thought they would imitate the Argeads, taking more power and autonomy for themselves, and allied themselves against Leon VII. They were especially angry because the Basileus had just won his war against the Muslims but did not reward them, giving management of the land instead to minor nobles and bureaucrats. Alexandros chose to stay neutral, though he recruited more soldiers in case one side wanted to attack his lands. None did. The Basileus managed to get victory after victory. In 943, it boosted his confidence enough for him to repel the regency council and replace it with one of his own, though Alexandros kept his position. The war was won the next year, but the Muslims had taken the occasion to rise up and take their lands back.
In 945, the despot second son, Hypatios, married a Greek named Romylia. Around that time, Alexandros started planning an invasion of the kingdom of Bulgaria. For this, he recruited more soldiers, improved his own domain to fund the war and even learned the local language. He also bought himself a glorious armor in case he wanted to go to war himself. In 946, he had another daughter, Theodosia. During that period, there were multiple conflicts inside his lands between the noble houses who tried to expand their influence like the Argeads had done. Alexandros was happy to let them to their conflict in order to avoid a united opposition to his rule.
In 948, the despot attacked the Hexavoulis to take Epirus from them. Hypatios was put in command of the army, over 3 100 soldiers including his brother Hephaistion, for the war. Many other noble houses wanted to oppose the Argeads and brought their men to the conflict. They faced each other at the Battle of Naupaktos in October 949. The Romans had 1 700 men and, though they tried their best, they were ultimately defeated. While his brothers were fighting the war, Kaisarios, Alexandros’ last son, married to Sibylla. The war lasted only a few more months before the Hexavoulis negotiated their surrender by keeping their lands in exchange for their allegiance.
In 951, the Hexavoulis betrayed their word and put themselves under the protection of the Pastillas, who were based in Anatolia, bringing their lands with them. Alexandros VI started invaded their lands in retaliation. This time, the leader of his army was Theodotos, a member of the Skletos family who had decided to serve the Argeads. The Pastillas assembled 1 700 men and landed in Achaia to distract Theodotos from Epirus. It worked, for he came at them with an army of 3 200 soldiers and they fought at the Battle of Modon in May 952. It was a victory for the Argeads, but Hephaistion was killed during the fighting. He left two daughters and a son behind him. The next year, the Pastillas agreed to negotiate a peace when Theodotos was back in Epirus and was capturing their forts. They would abandon half of the region in exchange for peace, something which Alexandros accepted as he was focusing on Bulgaria. Theodotos was rewarded with titles and lands in the region he had conquered.
That same year, in 953, Alexandros sent Theodotos to invade Bulgaria. At the time, the kingdom of Bulgaria was ruled by Simeon II. He dominated over vast but poor lands. That year, his rule was contested by many nobles and thus it was deemed the perfect occasion for an invasion. Theodotos crossed into the mountains with his army of 3 200 men before winter.
The war lasted for many years as Simeon II was trying to delay the Greeks as much as possible while he was dealing with the other conflicts. He also received help from the Aplakes who thought it was an occasion to weaken a rival inside the Eastern Roman Empire, but in the end they had not enough men to have an impact. More people saw the weakness of Simeon II and attacked him, making the situation even harder. In 957, after Theodotos had occupied an important part of the kingdom, Simeon II decided it was time to fight them. They faced each other at the Battle of Ohrid, but the Bulgarians were defeated and went back to stalling the invaders.
In 960, the Maurikios, who were the strongest noble family in the Eastern Roman Empire after the Argeads, attacked Alexandros along with a few other Roman families. The invasion of Bulgaria had taken its toll. The army was weakened and the gold was lacking, making it a good opportunity for the rivals of the Argeads. Alexandros ordered Theodotos to stop his conquest, which were still large enough to greatly increase the size of the area under the control of the Argeads, and go back to Greece. To ensure what was taken in Bulgaria was kept, the local lord who was owner of the land was allowed to keep what he had if he changed allegiance.
The Roman coalition was enough to be threatening. They had amassed over 4 000 men against the weakened army of Theodotos. Theodotos, rather than facing them in battle, decided to destroy their base of support by taking every one of their forts, hoping the more numerous forts of the Argeads would be enough to win the war. Indeed, he was faster at capturing their forts than the noble houses were at capturing the ones held by the Argeads, but it created a lot of resentment against Alexandros who was failing at protecting his subjects. He was forced to make concessions to the nobility to keep the peace. In 962, Alexandros managed to negotiate a peace where neither side gained or lost anything. That peace was largely motivated by a civil war which had just erupted between Leon VII and the other Roman houses, which worried both sides. Indeed, soon Theodotos was busy fighting brigands and peasants angry about the war as well as forcing the different parties of the civil war to respect Argead neutrality, though Alexandros continued to send men and taxes to Leon VII. Hypatios was given a lot of responsibilities as he was helping his father to rule and particularly to recover from the ten years of war.
In 967, Alexandros’ wife Ioanna was arrested after it was discovered she was involved in a conspiracy to murder Hypatios. The despot divorced her and took another wife, Evanthia. That same year, the Aplakes took Constantinople and installed one of their members as the new Basileus under the name of Leon VIII. However, the civil war continued, though it was mostly restricted to Asia Minor as the western part of the Eastern Roman Empire was mainly controlled by the Argeads who stayed neutral and attacked any army coming into their lands. In 968, Alexandros died of natural causes. He was 67.
Alexandros VI was overall a man who really followed his father’s legacy in creating an alternative center of power within the Eastern Roman Empire. He had also managed to receive a lot of autonomy from the Basileus to rule the lands he controlled as he saw fit, though he was not completely independent. It is estimated that at his death, the Argeads controlled nearly a third of the total population of the Eastern Roman Empire. His partial conquest of Bulgaria also showed the world how Alexandros had taken the power to do warfare outside of the borders of the Empire without needing the permission of the Basileus. While he was not yet independent, the Argeads were close to that point.
submitted by Volodio to CrusaderKings [link] [comments]
Second part here
Alexandros VI the Judge of Men (934 – 968)
Alexandros VI became the new despot at 33. He had already fought and ruled with his father for a long time before the succession and was thus ready to take the reins. Like Hephaistion, he was an accomplished warrior, but he was also more concerned with ruling. He was also as proud and believed as much in his Argead heritage than his father had been, to the point that he commissioned an epic to glorify his dynasty as one of his first decisions. He also married once again, to a Greek named Ionna, even though he already had three sons. She gave him a daughter, Philippa, the next year. His eldest son, Hephaistion, was albino and thus hated. Alexandros rarely showed him at court to avoid increasing tension.Alexandros spent the year 934 and 935 making sure people would follow him and not go back to the Basileus. He went to the different nobles and appeased their concern, even giving them more autonomy. In 935, he also defeated a popular revolt within his lands. He even made a deal with Leon VI for no interference in exchange for sending more soldiers in the wars of the Eastern Roman Empire, though they had not been many at the time.
In 936, Alexandros VI attacked the Aplakes for Thessalonika. He sent his general Loukas with 2 300 men to fight the war. The Aplakes called other noble houses for help. Some accepted, but Leon VI ignored the war as he started one of his own against the Muslims. Loukas faced the Roman nobles, who had 2 000 soldiers, at the Battle of Kalyvia in May 937 and defeated them. The Aplakes negotiated, with several noble houses of the region, for a surrender in exchange for keeping their lands, titles and privileges. Alexandros accepted as it spared him the need to besiege their cities. Loukas was rewarded with the hand of Alexandros’ daughter, Gabriella.
In 938, Leon VI died in his bed. He was succeeded by Leon VII, who was 14 at the time, and because Alexandros VI was the most powerful of the Basileus’ generals, he was invited to be part of the council who would rule the country before his majority.
In 939, the despot sent Loukas with 2 000 men, including Hephaistion who was here to get some experience, to attack the Skleros for Demetrias. The war was quickly won, despite some other noble houses deciding to oppose Alexandros, and Loukas was rewarded with the land newly taken. Once he came back from the campaign, Hephaistion married Helene.
In 941, a civil war started in the Eastern Roman Empire. Many of the noble houses thought they would imitate the Argeads, taking more power and autonomy for themselves, and allied themselves against Leon VII. They were especially angry because the Basileus had just won his war against the Muslims but did not reward them, giving management of the land instead to minor nobles and bureaucrats. Alexandros chose to stay neutral, though he recruited more soldiers in case one side wanted to attack his lands. None did. The Basileus managed to get victory after victory. In 943, it boosted his confidence enough for him to repel the regency council and replace it with one of his own, though Alexandros kept his position. The war was won the next year, but the Muslims had taken the occasion to rise up and take their lands back.
In 945, the despot second son, Hypatios, married a Greek named Romylia. Around that time, Alexandros started planning an invasion of the kingdom of Bulgaria. For this, he recruited more soldiers, improved his own domain to fund the war and even learned the local language. He also bought himself a glorious armor in case he wanted to go to war himself. In 946, he had another daughter, Theodosia. During that period, there were multiple conflicts inside his lands between the noble houses who tried to expand their influence like the Argeads had done. Alexandros was happy to let them to their conflict in order to avoid a united opposition to his rule.
In 948, the despot attacked the Hexavoulis to take Epirus from them. Hypatios was put in command of the army, over 3 100 soldiers including his brother Hephaistion, for the war. Many other noble houses wanted to oppose the Argeads and brought their men to the conflict. They faced each other at the Battle of Naupaktos in October 949. The Romans had 1 700 men and, though they tried their best, they were ultimately defeated. While his brothers were fighting the war, Kaisarios, Alexandros’ last son, married to Sibylla. The war lasted only a few more months before the Hexavoulis negotiated their surrender by keeping their lands in exchange for their allegiance.
In 951, the Hexavoulis betrayed their word and put themselves under the protection of the Pastillas, who were based in Anatolia, bringing their lands with them. Alexandros VI started invaded their lands in retaliation. This time, the leader of his army was Theodotos, a member of the Skletos family who had decided to serve the Argeads. The Pastillas assembled 1 700 men and landed in Achaia to distract Theodotos from Epirus. It worked, for he came at them with an army of 3 200 soldiers and they fought at the Battle of Modon in May 952. It was a victory for the Argeads, but Hephaistion was killed during the fighting. He left two daughters and a son behind him. The next year, the Pastillas agreed to negotiate a peace when Theodotos was back in Epirus and was capturing their forts. They would abandon half of the region in exchange for peace, something which Alexandros accepted as he was focusing on Bulgaria. Theodotos was rewarded with titles and lands in the region he had conquered.
That same year, in 953, Alexandros sent Theodotos to invade Bulgaria. At the time, the kingdom of Bulgaria was ruled by Simeon II. He dominated over vast but poor lands. That year, his rule was contested by many nobles and thus it was deemed the perfect occasion for an invasion. Theodotos crossed into the mountains with his army of 3 200 men before winter.
The war lasted for many years as Simeon II was trying to delay the Greeks as much as possible while he was dealing with the other conflicts. He also received help from the Aplakes who thought it was an occasion to weaken a rival inside the Eastern Roman Empire, but in the end they had not enough men to have an impact. More people saw the weakness of Simeon II and attacked him, making the situation even harder. In 957, after Theodotos had occupied an important part of the kingdom, Simeon II decided it was time to fight them. They faced each other at the Battle of Ohrid, but the Bulgarians were defeated and went back to stalling the invaders.
In 960, the Maurikios, who were the strongest noble family in the Eastern Roman Empire after the Argeads, attacked Alexandros along with a few other Roman families. The invasion of Bulgaria had taken its toll. The army was weakened and the gold was lacking, making it a good opportunity for the rivals of the Argeads. Alexandros ordered Theodotos to stop his conquest, which were still large enough to greatly increase the size of the area under the control of the Argeads, and go back to Greece. To ensure what was taken in Bulgaria was kept, the local lord who was owner of the land was allowed to keep what he had if he changed allegiance.
The Roman coalition was enough to be threatening. They had amassed over 4 000 men against the weakened army of Theodotos. Theodotos, rather than facing them in battle, decided to destroy their base of support by taking every one of their forts, hoping the more numerous forts of the Argeads would be enough to win the war. Indeed, he was faster at capturing their forts than the noble houses were at capturing the ones held by the Argeads, but it created a lot of resentment against Alexandros who was failing at protecting his subjects. He was forced to make concessions to the nobility to keep the peace. In 962, Alexandros managed to negotiate a peace where neither side gained or lost anything. That peace was largely motivated by a civil war which had just erupted between Leon VII and the other Roman houses, which worried both sides. Indeed, soon Theodotos was busy fighting brigands and peasants angry about the war as well as forcing the different parties of the civil war to respect Argead neutrality, though Alexandros continued to send men and taxes to Leon VII. Hypatios was given a lot of responsibilities as he was helping his father to rule and particularly to recover from the ten years of war.
In 967, Alexandros’ wife Ioanna was arrested after it was discovered she was involved in a conspiracy to murder Hypatios. The despot divorced her and took another wife, Evanthia. That same year, the Aplakes took Constantinople and installed one of their members as the new Basileus under the name of Leon VIII. However, the civil war continued, though it was mostly restricted to Asia Minor as the western part of the Eastern Roman Empire was mainly controlled by the Argeads who stayed neutral and attacked any army coming into their lands. In 968, Alexandros died of natural causes. He was 67.
Alexandros VI was overall a man who really followed his father’s legacy in creating an alternative center of power within the Eastern Roman Empire. He had also managed to receive a lot of autonomy from the Basileus to rule the lands he controlled as he saw fit, though he was not completely independent. It is estimated that at his death, the Argeads controlled nearly a third of the total population of the Eastern Roman Empire. His partial conquest of Bulgaria also showed the world how Alexandros had taken the power to do warfare outside of the borders of the Empire without needing the permission of the Basileus. While he was not yet independent, the Argeads were close to that point.
2023.05.29 18:02 IrinaSophia Holy Ethno-Hieromartyr Euthymios, Bishop of Zela (+ 1921) (May 29th)
Saint Euthymios of Zela the Ethno-Hieromartyr, born Eustratios Agritellis in 1876, was the last resident Bishop of the Diocese of Zela in Amasya, Western Pontus, which he served from June 12, 1912 until his death on May 29, 1921, during the period of the Greek genocide.
Saint Euthymios was born on July 6, 1876 in the village of Parakoula on Lesvos island, where he started his education. At the age of nine he entered the 'Leimonias school', located within the Leimonos Monastery, from where he graduated in 1892.
He was tonsured a monk by the abbot of the monastery, Archmandrite Anthimos (Georgiellis), who gave him the name Euthymios. For the next eight years he practiced asceticism in the Leimonos Monastery.
In 1900 he was sent by the monastery to the Theological School of Halki, where he studied from 1900 to 1907. In 1906 he was ordained a deacon by Metropolitan Agathangelos of Grevena, and in 1907 he completed his thesis titled: "The Purpose of Monastic Life in the East Until the 9th century AD."
After his graduation, he returned to Lesvos, where Metropolitan Stephen (Soulidis) of Methymna appointed him the head of the Leimonos School, as well as the itinerant preacher (hierokeryx) of the Metropolis of Methymna. He performed this role between 1909-1910, during which time he was known for his oratory prowess and the rich content of his sermons. In the 1909-10 school year, he served as headmaster in the municipality of Gera, in the region of Mytilene.
In 1910 he was ordained a priest by Metropolitan Stephen (Soulidis) of Methymna, and served as the protosynkellos of the Metropolis of Methymna until 1912.
In 1912 the Metropolitan of Amasya Germanos Karavangelis (based in Samsun), who was himself a native of Lesvos, received Euthymios as his general commissioner. It is said that the Ecumenical Patriarch himself Joachim III first introduced Euthymios to Metropolitan Germanos, having been informed of the talents of the young clergyman. Thus the Great Church of Christ promoted Euthymios as assistant bishop to the Metropolitan of Amasya, bestowing upon him the illustrious high title of old, of Western Pontus, that of Bishop of Zela (modern Zile). His ordination to the highest order of the Church took place on June 12, 1912, in Constantinople.
Over the next ten years, in the midst of adverse and tragic circumstances, Bishop Euthymios served the vast Metropolis of Amasya, which was the most extensive in Asia Minor, comprising 340 Orthodox communities and a population of over 130,000 Orthodox, who were mostly Turkish in appearance, but Greek in identity. It is not an exaggeration to state that in all of these years he alone governed the Metropolis of Amasya, due to the frequent trips of Metropolitan Germanos to Constantinople and Athens. Under his tenure the Metropolis of Amasya started to show signs of unusual progress and revival, including the formation of youth and community organizations. In 1913 in the district of Pafra and in several other villages of Western Pontus, he founded many churches, schools for boys, schools for girls, and took care to ensure the proper placement of priests and teachers.
However a short time thereafter, the terrible period of the great persecution of the Anatolian Greeks erupted, especially in the regions of Samsun and Pafra. From then on the activities of the Bishop of Zela changed from efforts for progress and revival, into struggles for relief and retrenchment. He transitioned untiringly from place to place, oftentimes in danger and tried by deprivations and malaise, in order to provide his assistance to those he found in despair or in exile, and to the distressed Orthodox Christians.
Throughout the First World War he urged all of the schools and the people of Pontus to remain united in remembrance of an annual ethnic ceremony which commemorated the female mass suicide of 30-40 young girls from the village of Hazar in 1680, who preferred to fall from a fortress (known as the 'fortress of Ali') into a 150-meter precipice, rather than to fall into the hands of the Turks. This ceremony was observed on the anniversary of March 25th each year in remembrance of the self-sacrifice of the young girls.
In April 1917 a large force of the Turkish army sent by Refet Bele Pasha and commanded by Mehmet Ali encircled the monastery of the Theotokos near the village of Otkaya (Otkayada), on the west side of Mount Neltes (Nebyan), where the cave called Maara (or the Virgin or Magara) was located, encircling 650 women and children and 60 armed rebels. After six days of resistance most of the besieged were killed or committed suicide. Of those that were captured many of the young girls and women were dishonored, the children shot, and the men beheaded.
In 1919, in response to this act, on the forefeast of the Dormition of the Theotokos, Euthymios gathered 12,000 insurgents outside of the small town of Tsasur (Tsassour), under the command of Kyriakos Papadopoulos, resulting in the complete destruction of the Turkish armed forces and the town. From that day onwards Euthymios was considered a wanted man by the Kemalist Turks who viewed him as a leader of the insurgents of Western Pontus. He and other notables were restricted in their activities and suffered due to the interrogations they underwent. The jails were filled with Christians of every age and social status. Everywhere there was exile, the gallows, disgrace, and the sword and fire.
In 1921, by a decision of the Kemalist government, all the Metropolitans, Bishops, and Archimandrites of the Pontus region were obliged to abandon Pontus and leave their seats. The only hierarchs who did not obey this order were Metropolitan Chrysanthos (Philippidis) of Trebizond, Bishop Euthymios of Zela, and Protosyngellos Archimandrite Platon (Aivazidis) of Amasya.
On January 21, 1921, the Kemalists captured Bishop Efthymios and Archimandrite Platon (Aivazidis), along with many other notables of the city of Amasya. They were condemned to death, and were imprisoned in the Souyia prison in Amasya.
Aware of the ill-treatments and tortures of those arrested with him, and desiring to relieve their suffering, he appealed to the Kemalist government of Ankara to be regarded as the only culprit, and to be the only one punished, in order to allow his fellow prisoners to be released. However he received no response.
His imprisonment continued relatively mildly until April 18, 1921, the day of Pascha. On that day, without being noticed by the jailer, he entered a hall where many expatriates were being detained in isolation, in order to console and encourage them. As a result of this action he became even more suspect, and was isolated in the damp basements of the jails from then onwards. It was through the testimony of other prisoners that were released, that his tortures were made publicly known afterwards, affirming his isolation and sufferings in prison. Sometimes his voice would be heard chanting the memorial service for the repose of departed, which he was chanting on his own behalf.
On the forty-first day of his isolation, on May 29, 1921, completely exhausted from the hardships, deprivations and tortures, he gave up his soul to the Lord and received the incorruptible crown of martyrdom. It was the irony of fate that his conviction from the high court in Ankara arrived after his death, with the sentence being the 'Independence of death'. Nevertheless, his dead body was hanged in the central square of the town together with the others who had been sentenced to death including politicians, businessmen, journalists and religious figures of the local Greek community. Afterwards his guardians buried him quietly in the courtyard of the adjacent church.
Thus the Bishop of Zela sealed the good course of his life, by preferring faith and country over death, and becoming a forerunner of other ethnomartyr hierarchs, which were to be martyred in the following catastrophic year for Hellenism (that is, the Asia Minor Catastrophe) in 1922.
In 1992 Euthymios was numbered among the chorus of the Saints by the Holy Synod of the Church of Greece.
In 1998 a chapel was built in honor of the Saint at Leimonos Monastery, in the Holy Metropolis of Methymna.
Among the manuscripts at Leimonos Monastery, there are fifty items written in his hand, most of which are notebooks from the time of his studies in Halki.
His memory is celebrated on May 29, as well as on the Sunday before the Exaltation of the Holy Cross.
(from johnsanidopoulos.com)
submitted by IrinaSophia to OrthodoxGreece [link] [comments]
Saint Euthymios was born on July 6, 1876 in the village of Parakoula on Lesvos island, where he started his education. At the age of nine he entered the 'Leimonias school', located within the Leimonos Monastery, from where he graduated in 1892.
He was tonsured a monk by the abbot of the monastery, Archmandrite Anthimos (Georgiellis), who gave him the name Euthymios. For the next eight years he practiced asceticism in the Leimonos Monastery.
In 1900 he was sent by the monastery to the Theological School of Halki, where he studied from 1900 to 1907. In 1906 he was ordained a deacon by Metropolitan Agathangelos of Grevena, and in 1907 he completed his thesis titled: "The Purpose of Monastic Life in the East Until the 9th century AD."
After his graduation, he returned to Lesvos, where Metropolitan Stephen (Soulidis) of Methymna appointed him the head of the Leimonos School, as well as the itinerant preacher (hierokeryx) of the Metropolis of Methymna. He performed this role between 1909-1910, during which time he was known for his oratory prowess and the rich content of his sermons. In the 1909-10 school year, he served as headmaster in the municipality of Gera, in the region of Mytilene.
In 1910 he was ordained a priest by Metropolitan Stephen (Soulidis) of Methymna, and served as the protosynkellos of the Metropolis of Methymna until 1912.
In 1912 the Metropolitan of Amasya Germanos Karavangelis (based in Samsun), who was himself a native of Lesvos, received Euthymios as his general commissioner. It is said that the Ecumenical Patriarch himself Joachim III first introduced Euthymios to Metropolitan Germanos, having been informed of the talents of the young clergyman. Thus the Great Church of Christ promoted Euthymios as assistant bishop to the Metropolitan of Amasya, bestowing upon him the illustrious high title of old, of Western Pontus, that of Bishop of Zela (modern Zile). His ordination to the highest order of the Church took place on June 12, 1912, in Constantinople.
Over the next ten years, in the midst of adverse and tragic circumstances, Bishop Euthymios served the vast Metropolis of Amasya, which was the most extensive in Asia Minor, comprising 340 Orthodox communities and a population of over 130,000 Orthodox, who were mostly Turkish in appearance, but Greek in identity. It is not an exaggeration to state that in all of these years he alone governed the Metropolis of Amasya, due to the frequent trips of Metropolitan Germanos to Constantinople and Athens. Under his tenure the Metropolis of Amasya started to show signs of unusual progress and revival, including the formation of youth and community organizations. In 1913 in the district of Pafra and in several other villages of Western Pontus, he founded many churches, schools for boys, schools for girls, and took care to ensure the proper placement of priests and teachers.
However a short time thereafter, the terrible period of the great persecution of the Anatolian Greeks erupted, especially in the regions of Samsun and Pafra. From then on the activities of the Bishop of Zela changed from efforts for progress and revival, into struggles for relief and retrenchment. He transitioned untiringly from place to place, oftentimes in danger and tried by deprivations and malaise, in order to provide his assistance to those he found in despair or in exile, and to the distressed Orthodox Christians.
Throughout the First World War he urged all of the schools and the people of Pontus to remain united in remembrance of an annual ethnic ceremony which commemorated the female mass suicide of 30-40 young girls from the village of Hazar in 1680, who preferred to fall from a fortress (known as the 'fortress of Ali') into a 150-meter precipice, rather than to fall into the hands of the Turks. This ceremony was observed on the anniversary of March 25th each year in remembrance of the self-sacrifice of the young girls.
In April 1917 a large force of the Turkish army sent by Refet Bele Pasha and commanded by Mehmet Ali encircled the monastery of the Theotokos near the village of Otkaya (Otkayada), on the west side of Mount Neltes (Nebyan), where the cave called Maara (or the Virgin or Magara) was located, encircling 650 women and children and 60 armed rebels. After six days of resistance most of the besieged were killed or committed suicide. Of those that were captured many of the young girls and women were dishonored, the children shot, and the men beheaded.
In 1919, in response to this act, on the forefeast of the Dormition of the Theotokos, Euthymios gathered 12,000 insurgents outside of the small town of Tsasur (Tsassour), under the command of Kyriakos Papadopoulos, resulting in the complete destruction of the Turkish armed forces and the town. From that day onwards Euthymios was considered a wanted man by the Kemalist Turks who viewed him as a leader of the insurgents of Western Pontus. He and other notables were restricted in their activities and suffered due to the interrogations they underwent. The jails were filled with Christians of every age and social status. Everywhere there was exile, the gallows, disgrace, and the sword and fire.
In 1921, by a decision of the Kemalist government, all the Metropolitans, Bishops, and Archimandrites of the Pontus region were obliged to abandon Pontus and leave their seats. The only hierarchs who did not obey this order were Metropolitan Chrysanthos (Philippidis) of Trebizond, Bishop Euthymios of Zela, and Protosyngellos Archimandrite Platon (Aivazidis) of Amasya.
On January 21, 1921, the Kemalists captured Bishop Efthymios and Archimandrite Platon (Aivazidis), along with many other notables of the city of Amasya. They were condemned to death, and were imprisoned in the Souyia prison in Amasya.
Aware of the ill-treatments and tortures of those arrested with him, and desiring to relieve their suffering, he appealed to the Kemalist government of Ankara to be regarded as the only culprit, and to be the only one punished, in order to allow his fellow prisoners to be released. However he received no response.
His imprisonment continued relatively mildly until April 18, 1921, the day of Pascha. On that day, without being noticed by the jailer, he entered a hall where many expatriates were being detained in isolation, in order to console and encourage them. As a result of this action he became even more suspect, and was isolated in the damp basements of the jails from then onwards. It was through the testimony of other prisoners that were released, that his tortures were made publicly known afterwards, affirming his isolation and sufferings in prison. Sometimes his voice would be heard chanting the memorial service for the repose of departed, which he was chanting on his own behalf.
On the forty-first day of his isolation, on May 29, 1921, completely exhausted from the hardships, deprivations and tortures, he gave up his soul to the Lord and received the incorruptible crown of martyrdom. It was the irony of fate that his conviction from the high court in Ankara arrived after his death, with the sentence being the 'Independence of death'. Nevertheless, his dead body was hanged in the central square of the town together with the others who had been sentenced to death including politicians, businessmen, journalists and religious figures of the local Greek community. Afterwards his guardians buried him quietly in the courtyard of the adjacent church.
Thus the Bishop of Zela sealed the good course of his life, by preferring faith and country over death, and becoming a forerunner of other ethnomartyr hierarchs, which were to be martyred in the following catastrophic year for Hellenism (that is, the Asia Minor Catastrophe) in 1922.
In 1992 Euthymios was numbered among the chorus of the Saints by the Holy Synod of the Church of Greece.
In 1998 a chapel was built in honor of the Saint at Leimonos Monastery, in the Holy Metropolis of Methymna.
Among the manuscripts at Leimonos Monastery, there are fifty items written in his hand, most of which are notebooks from the time of his studies in Halki.
His memory is celebrated on May 29, as well as on the Sunday before the Exaltation of the Holy Cross.
(from johnsanidopoulos.com)
2023.05.29 18:01 SoftlySpokenOne Any long-term support mains who managed to get decent at dps without making their friends tear their hair out?
I'm an old player who took a 3y long break from the game before Ow2 came out
I don’t play competitive modes and I currently have close to 3000 games played as a support in quickplay, maybe 20 games as a tank and maybe 30 games as a dps.. this last role – I’ve only played in the past few days because some of my friends have been stuck playing dps for months and wanted a break from the role
But the experience so far has been… not great.
I’m not sure I position myself properly as dps, my aim is less than ideal… also, the qp matchmaking has been kinda brutal... I think my friends and I have lost close to 20 (yes, for real) out of the last 25 games we've played, and I know at least a few of those games were either because of me getting outplayed or because we were playing with my friend who downloaded the game last week and is obviously still learning
The last match I played, as just one example, we got thrown against a team with at least one high masters dps that no one on my team was able to deal with – least of all me (tho literally everyone on the team went negative k/d) But even in some of the other games I find myself struggling to keep up
I play with my friends who are gold in dps & tank and gold/low plat in support and I’m finding it hard to manage when the enemy team gets plat and above dps I'll typically manage not to die a ton, but then I feel like I'm not getting the kills either
Seriously tho, would I benefit from playing against AI for a while? Or do I just grin and bear it in quickplay and mute chat (because hoo boy do some people get mad, even in quickplay)? Do I go for aim trainers?
I wouldn't normally care but I worry a bit that me being trash is making the game not fun for my friends, who, while not 100% tryharding, don’t particularly enjoy losing streaks either when it's newbie me vs a bettemore experienced dps on the other team (I can't play snipers to save my life and unless the other dps does, some games just end up feeling terrible)
Fwiw I'm a 30something yo who doesn't really play fps in general
As a Moira main, I’ve had people suggest Symmetra, but I tried her out and I don’t really enjoy her (or perform well with her)
submitted by SoftlySpokenOne to OverwatchUniversity [link] [comments]
I don’t play competitive modes and I currently have close to 3000 games played as a support in quickplay, maybe 20 games as a tank and maybe 30 games as a dps.. this last role – I’ve only played in the past few days because some of my friends have been stuck playing dps for months and wanted a break from the role
But the experience so far has been… not great.
I’m not sure I position myself properly as dps, my aim is less than ideal… also, the qp matchmaking has been kinda brutal... I think my friends and I have lost close to 20 (yes, for real) out of the last 25 games we've played, and I know at least a few of those games were either because of me getting outplayed or because we were playing with my friend who downloaded the game last week and is obviously still learning
The last match I played, as just one example, we got thrown against a team with at least one high masters dps that no one on my team was able to deal with – least of all me (tho literally everyone on the team went negative k/d) But even in some of the other games I find myself struggling to keep up
I play with my friends who are gold in dps & tank and gold/low plat in support and I’m finding it hard to manage when the enemy team gets plat and above dps I'll typically manage not to die a ton, but then I feel like I'm not getting the kills either
Seriously tho, would I benefit from playing against AI for a while? Or do I just grin and bear it in quickplay and mute chat (because hoo boy do some people get mad, even in quickplay)? Do I go for aim trainers?
I wouldn't normally care but I worry a bit that me being trash is making the game not fun for my friends, who, while not 100% tryharding, don’t particularly enjoy losing streaks either when it's newbie me vs a bettemore experienced dps on the other team (I can't play snipers to save my life and unless the other dps does, some games just end up feeling terrible)
Fwiw I'm a 30something yo who doesn't really play fps in general
As a Moira main, I’ve had people suggest Symmetra, but I tried her out and I don’t really enjoy her (or perform well with her)
2023.05.29 18:01 IrinaSophia Holy Ethno-Hieromartyr Euthymios, Bishop of Zela (+ 1921) (May 29th)
Saint Euthymios of Zela the Ethno-Hieromartyr, born Eustratios Agritellis in 1876, was the last resident Bishop of the Diocese of Zela in Amasya, Western Pontus, which he served from June 12, 1912 until his death on May 29, 1921, during the period of the Greek genocide.
Saint Euthymios was born on July 6, 1876 in the village of Parakoula on Lesvos island, where he started his education. At the age of nine he entered the 'Leimonias school', located within the Leimonos Monastery, from where he graduated in 1892.
He was tonsured a monk by the abbot of the monastery, Archmandrite Anthimos (Georgiellis), who gave him the name Euthymios. For the next eight years he practiced asceticism in the Leimonos Monastery.
In 1900 he was sent by the monastery to the Theological School of Halki, where he studied from 1900 to 1907. In 1906 he was ordained a deacon by Metropolitan Agathangelos of Grevena, and in 1907 he completed his thesis titled: "The Purpose of Monastic Life in the East Until the 9th century AD."
After his graduation, he returned to Lesvos, where Metropolitan Stephen (Soulidis) of Methymna appointed him the head of the Leimonos School, as well as the itinerant preacher (hierokeryx) of the Metropolis of Methymna. He performed this role between 1909-1910, during which time he was known for his oratory prowess and the rich content of his sermons. In the 1909-10 school year, he served as headmaster in the municipality of Gera, in the region of Mytilene.
In 1910 he was ordained a priest by Metropolitan Stephen (Soulidis) of Methymna, and served as the protosynkellos of the Metropolis of Methymna until 1912.
In 1912 the Metropolitan of Amasya Germanos Karavangelis (based in Samsun), who was himself a native of Lesvos, received Euthymios as his general commissioner. It is said that the Ecumenical Patriarch himself Joachim III first introduced Euthymios to Metropolitan Germanos, having been informed of the talents of the young clergyman. Thus the Great Church of Christ promoted Euthymios as assistant bishop to the Metropolitan of Amasya, bestowing upon him the illustrious high title of old, of Western Pontus, that of Bishop of Zela (modern Zile). His ordination to the highest order of the Church took place on June 12, 1912, in Constantinople.
Over the next ten years, in the midst of adverse and tragic circumstances, Bishop Euthymios served the vast Metropolis of Amasya, which was the most extensive in Asia Minor, comprising 340 Orthodox communities and a population of over 130,000 Orthodox, who were mostly Turkish in appearance, but Greek in identity. It is not an exaggeration to state that in all of these years he alone governed the Metropolis of Amasya, due to the frequent trips of Metropolitan Germanos to Constantinople and Athens. Under his tenure the Metropolis of Amasya started to show signs of unusual progress and revival, including the formation of youth and community organizations. In 1913 in the district of Pafra and in several other villages of Western Pontus, he founded many churches, schools for boys, schools for girls, and took care to ensure the proper placement of priests and teachers.
However a short time thereafter, the terrible period of the great persecution of the Anatolian Greeks erupted, especially in the regions of Samsun and Pafra. From then on the activities of the Bishop of Zela changed from efforts for progress and revival, into struggles for relief and retrenchment. He transitioned untiringly from place to place, oftentimes in danger and tried by deprivations and malaise, in order to provide his assistance to those he found in despair or in exile, and to the distressed Orthodox Christians.
Throughout the First World War he urged all of the schools and the people of Pontus to remain united in remembrance of an annual ethnic ceremony which commemorated the female mass suicide of 30-40 young girls from the village of Hazar in 1680, who preferred to fall from a fortress (known as the 'fortress of Ali') into a 150-meter precipice, rather than to fall into the hands of the Turks. This ceremony was observed on the anniversary of March 25th each year in remembrance of the self-sacrifice of the young girls.
In April 1917 a large force of the Turkish army sent by Refet Bele Pasha and commanded by Mehmet Ali encircled the monastery of the Theotokos near the village of Otkaya (Otkayada), on the west side of Mount Neltes (Nebyan), where the cave called Maara (or the Virgin or Magara) was located, encircling 650 women and children and 60 armed rebels. After six days of resistance most of the besieged were killed or committed suicide. Of those that were captured many of the young girls and women were dishonored, the children shot, and the men beheaded.
In 1919, in response to this act, on the forefeast of the Dormition of the Theotokos, Euthymios gathered 12,000 insurgents outside of the small town of Tsasur (Tsassour), under the command of Kyriakos Papadopoulos, resulting in the complete destruction of the Turkish armed forces and the town. From that day onwards Euthymios was considered a wanted man by the Kemalist Turks who viewed him as a leader of the insurgents of Western Pontus. He and other notables were restricted in their activities and suffered due to the interrogations they underwent. The jails were filled with Christians of every age and social status. Everywhere there was exile, the gallows, disgrace, and the sword and fire.
In 1921, by a decision of the Kemalist government, all the Metropolitans, Bishops, and Archimandrites of the Pontus region were obliged to abandon Pontus and leave their seats. The only hierarchs who did not obey this order were Metropolitan Chrysanthos (Philippidis) of Trebizond, Bishop Euthymios of Zela, and Protosyngellos Archimandrite Platon (Aivazidis) of Amasya.
On January 21, 1921, the Kemalists captured Bishop Efthymios and Archimandrite Platon (Aivazidis), along with many other notables of the city of Amasya. They were condemned to death, and were imprisoned in the Souyia prison in Amasya.
Aware of the ill-treatments and tortures of those arrested with him, and desiring to relieve their suffering, he appealed to the Kemalist government of Ankara to be regarded as the only culprit, and to be the only one punished, in order to allow his fellow prisoners to be released. However he received no response.
His imprisonment continued relatively mildly until April 18, 1921, the day of Pascha. On that day, without being noticed by the jailer, he entered a hall where many expatriates were being detained in isolation, in order to console and encourage them. As a result of this action he became even more suspect, and was isolated in the damp basements of the jails from then onwards. It was through the testimony of other prisoners that were released, that his tortures were made publicly known afterwards, affirming his isolation and sufferings in prison. Sometimes his voice would be heard chanting the memorial service for the repose of departed, which he was chanting on his own behalf.
On the forty-first day of his isolation, on May 29, 1921, completely exhausted from the hardships, deprivations and tortures, he gave up his soul to the Lord and received the incorruptible crown of martyrdom. It was the irony of fate that his conviction from the high court in Ankara arrived after his death, with the sentence being the 'Independence of death'. Nevertheless, his dead body was hanged in the central square of the town together with the others who had been sentenced to death including politicians, businessmen, journalists and religious figures of the local Greek community. Afterwards his guardians buried him quietly in the courtyard of the adjacent church.
Thus the Bishop of Zela sealed the good course of his life, by preferring faith and country over death, and becoming a forerunner of other ethnomartyr hierarchs, which were to be martyred in the following catastrophic year for Hellenism (that is, the Asia Minor Catastrophe) in 1922.
In 1992 Euthymios was numbered among the chorus of the Saints by the Holy Synod of the Church of Greece.
In 1998 a chapel was built in honor of the Saint at Leimonos Monastery, in the Holy Metropolis of Methymna.
Among the manuscripts at Leimonos Monastery, there are fifty items written in his hand, most of which are notebooks from the time of his studies in Halki.
His memory is celebrated on May 29, as well as on the Sunday before the Exaltation of the Holy Cross.
(from johnsanidopoulos.com)
submitted by IrinaSophia to OrthodoxChristianity [link] [comments]
Saint Euthymios was born on July 6, 1876 in the village of Parakoula on Lesvos island, where he started his education. At the age of nine he entered the 'Leimonias school', located within the Leimonos Monastery, from where he graduated in 1892.
He was tonsured a monk by the abbot of the monastery, Archmandrite Anthimos (Georgiellis), who gave him the name Euthymios. For the next eight years he practiced asceticism in the Leimonos Monastery.
In 1900 he was sent by the monastery to the Theological School of Halki, where he studied from 1900 to 1907. In 1906 he was ordained a deacon by Metropolitan Agathangelos of Grevena, and in 1907 he completed his thesis titled: "The Purpose of Monastic Life in the East Until the 9th century AD."
After his graduation, he returned to Lesvos, where Metropolitan Stephen (Soulidis) of Methymna appointed him the head of the Leimonos School, as well as the itinerant preacher (hierokeryx) of the Metropolis of Methymna. He performed this role between 1909-1910, during which time he was known for his oratory prowess and the rich content of his sermons. In the 1909-10 school year, he served as headmaster in the municipality of Gera, in the region of Mytilene.
In 1910 he was ordained a priest by Metropolitan Stephen (Soulidis) of Methymna, and served as the protosynkellos of the Metropolis of Methymna until 1912.
In 1912 the Metropolitan of Amasya Germanos Karavangelis (based in Samsun), who was himself a native of Lesvos, received Euthymios as his general commissioner. It is said that the Ecumenical Patriarch himself Joachim III first introduced Euthymios to Metropolitan Germanos, having been informed of the talents of the young clergyman. Thus the Great Church of Christ promoted Euthymios as assistant bishop to the Metropolitan of Amasya, bestowing upon him the illustrious high title of old, of Western Pontus, that of Bishop of Zela (modern Zile). His ordination to the highest order of the Church took place on June 12, 1912, in Constantinople.
Over the next ten years, in the midst of adverse and tragic circumstances, Bishop Euthymios served the vast Metropolis of Amasya, which was the most extensive in Asia Minor, comprising 340 Orthodox communities and a population of over 130,000 Orthodox, who were mostly Turkish in appearance, but Greek in identity. It is not an exaggeration to state that in all of these years he alone governed the Metropolis of Amasya, due to the frequent trips of Metropolitan Germanos to Constantinople and Athens. Under his tenure the Metropolis of Amasya started to show signs of unusual progress and revival, including the formation of youth and community organizations. In 1913 in the district of Pafra and in several other villages of Western Pontus, he founded many churches, schools for boys, schools for girls, and took care to ensure the proper placement of priests and teachers.
However a short time thereafter, the terrible period of the great persecution of the Anatolian Greeks erupted, especially in the regions of Samsun and Pafra. From then on the activities of the Bishop of Zela changed from efforts for progress and revival, into struggles for relief and retrenchment. He transitioned untiringly from place to place, oftentimes in danger and tried by deprivations and malaise, in order to provide his assistance to those he found in despair or in exile, and to the distressed Orthodox Christians.
Throughout the First World War he urged all of the schools and the people of Pontus to remain united in remembrance of an annual ethnic ceremony which commemorated the female mass suicide of 30-40 young girls from the village of Hazar in 1680, who preferred to fall from a fortress (known as the 'fortress of Ali') into a 150-meter precipice, rather than to fall into the hands of the Turks. This ceremony was observed on the anniversary of March 25th each year in remembrance of the self-sacrifice of the young girls.
In April 1917 a large force of the Turkish army sent by Refet Bele Pasha and commanded by Mehmet Ali encircled the monastery of the Theotokos near the village of Otkaya (Otkayada), on the west side of Mount Neltes (Nebyan), where the cave called Maara (or the Virgin or Magara) was located, encircling 650 women and children and 60 armed rebels. After six days of resistance most of the besieged were killed or committed suicide. Of those that were captured many of the young girls and women were dishonored, the children shot, and the men beheaded.
In 1919, in response to this act, on the forefeast of the Dormition of the Theotokos, Euthymios gathered 12,000 insurgents outside of the small town of Tsasur (Tsassour), under the command of Kyriakos Papadopoulos, resulting in the complete destruction of the Turkish armed forces and the town. From that day onwards Euthymios was considered a wanted man by the Kemalist Turks who viewed him as a leader of the insurgents of Western Pontus. He and other notables were restricted in their activities and suffered due to the interrogations they underwent. The jails were filled with Christians of every age and social status. Everywhere there was exile, the gallows, disgrace, and the sword and fire.
In 1921, by a decision of the Kemalist government, all the Metropolitans, Bishops, and Archimandrites of the Pontus region were obliged to abandon Pontus and leave their seats. The only hierarchs who did not obey this order were Metropolitan Chrysanthos (Philippidis) of Trebizond, Bishop Euthymios of Zela, and Protosyngellos Archimandrite Platon (Aivazidis) of Amasya.
On January 21, 1921, the Kemalists captured Bishop Efthymios and Archimandrite Platon (Aivazidis), along with many other notables of the city of Amasya. They were condemned to death, and were imprisoned in the Souyia prison in Amasya.
Aware of the ill-treatments and tortures of those arrested with him, and desiring to relieve their suffering, he appealed to the Kemalist government of Ankara to be regarded as the only culprit, and to be the only one punished, in order to allow his fellow prisoners to be released. However he received no response.
His imprisonment continued relatively mildly until April 18, 1921, the day of Pascha. On that day, without being noticed by the jailer, he entered a hall where many expatriates were being detained in isolation, in order to console and encourage them. As a result of this action he became even more suspect, and was isolated in the damp basements of the jails from then onwards. It was through the testimony of other prisoners that were released, that his tortures were made publicly known afterwards, affirming his isolation and sufferings in prison. Sometimes his voice would be heard chanting the memorial service for the repose of departed, which he was chanting on his own behalf.
On the forty-first day of his isolation, on May 29, 1921, completely exhausted from the hardships, deprivations and tortures, he gave up his soul to the Lord and received the incorruptible crown of martyrdom. It was the irony of fate that his conviction from the high court in Ankara arrived after his death, with the sentence being the 'Independence of death'. Nevertheless, his dead body was hanged in the central square of the town together with the others who had been sentenced to death including politicians, businessmen, journalists and religious figures of the local Greek community. Afterwards his guardians buried him quietly in the courtyard of the adjacent church.
Thus the Bishop of Zela sealed the good course of his life, by preferring faith and country over death, and becoming a forerunner of other ethnomartyr hierarchs, which were to be martyred in the following catastrophic year for Hellenism (that is, the Asia Minor Catastrophe) in 1922.
In 1992 Euthymios was numbered among the chorus of the Saints by the Holy Synod of the Church of Greece.
In 1998 a chapel was built in honor of the Saint at Leimonos Monastery, in the Holy Metropolis of Methymna.
Among the manuscripts at Leimonos Monastery, there are fifty items written in his hand, most of which are notebooks from the time of his studies in Halki.
His memory is celebrated on May 29, as well as on the Sunday before the Exaltation of the Holy Cross.
(from johnsanidopoulos.com)
2023.05.29 17:58 TallLab1036 An in depth profile of myself.
Hello hello. I hope you enjoy this short introduction of myself.
Some have asked why I've come here to seek this, and really, why are any of us here? We're searching for something that we can't find elsewhere so we've decided to give this a shot.
I've tried other sites without luck and dating is difficult in my area. By that I mean everyone is super country, as in enjoying fishing and listening to country music while complaining about liberals. Or, to phrase it another way - guns, God and Trump. That's a hard pass for me, so this seems like the next step.
A couple of things before I start:
Distance isn't an issue for me. I'm hoping to meet someone and chat to see where things lead, if there's a connection of any sort. If there is, we can move from there. Distance is a relatively small issue if you can find someone who is truly perfect for you, after all.
I should also mention that, for the most part, age isn't an issue. To some extent it will be of course, but I don't mind a bit of an age gap in either direction at all. If it's an issue for you, that's understandable; however, if you think it will be for me, well the only way to really find out is to message me, now isn't it?
I'm open to anyone who sees this and is interested (including those of any experience level) as I don't want to limit myself when I could possibly find chemistry with someone.
Also, while I am in general an emotionally intelligent, nurturing and supportive person, I'm also a massive sadist. To be more specific, I enjoy psychological sadism (although physical sadism is definitely fun too) and that is reflected in my kinks and, to some extent, my personality. While I believe boundaries and limits are to be respected at all times, and I don't enjoy anything if my partner doesn't, I absolutely love teasing, tormenting and torturing my partner in both play and everyday life.
Prepare for a mountain of text! It's a bit long, but I assure you it's worth the read. I decided that since I'm putting myself out there with a post, I want to truly and fully put myself out there and represent myself. I'm hoping that those reading this will recognize the effort that was put into this and get a good feel for who I am as a person. If you feel it's too much, save it for later, skim or even just message me if you would rather get to know me more naturally.
My post is cobbled together from thoughts, beliefs and realizations that I have come upon in my years in the lifestyle (which is why you might see slightly different styles of writing in different parts, this post is taken from my kink profiles and are the sum result of over ten years of experience that I find I still add to every now and then. I try to edit and organize it a bit from time to time, but it's difficult due to the fact that there's so much that I wish to include.)
Long story short, I can be a bit...rambly, sometimes. So apologies in advance for that, although I have recently made great strides in editing my post. So I've got that going for me, which is nice.
While it's certainly a lengthy read, it's not nearly as bad as it seems. I recommend reading the whole thing (obviously since I wrote it), especially if you're interested in getting to know a kinky, geeky and empathetic person.
Now that I've covered that, it's time to get to the part you've been waiting for.
I'm a lighthearted, playful and fairly laid back, yet somewhat serious minded, person who's rather upbeat and probably too curious for his own good. I'm also kind, caring, friendly, sometimes cynical and often sarcastic (although in a lighthearted manner, and never at the expense of others.) There's nothing I love to do more than laugh; I love most things involving humor, although I do believe there's a very fine line between hilarity and stupidity.
Now, for some little bits of trivia about me:
Some bands I enjoy include:
While I enjoy relaxing and watching television, I have trouble watching hour long shows as I can only focus on it for so long before my attention wavers, around that time I start looking at my phone and just waiting for it to be over. It's also why I don't watch too many movies; I need my entertainment bite sized. I'll watch movies every once in a while, but they generally need to be 100 minutes tops (unless it's something I'm super into.).
I have difficulty getting into things that are realistic; they usually need to be fantastical in nature and capture my imagination. My preferred genres are comedy, horror (mainly supernatural, no slashers) and most things involving special powers or abilities, however I can sometimes get into action or drama as well. I also have a love for the world of animation, possibly because they tend to be more creative and aren't limited by reality; it's part of why I'm so partial to anime.
Some shows that I'm fond of are:
Gaming is easily one of my biggest hobbies and has been for many, many years now. I see it as an art form, as a way to tell a story that you can deeply immerse yourself in and get pulled into, something that can captivate you and make you lose all track of time because it's simply so engrossing. It's also a damn good way to have fun and kill time, especially when you're playing with friends. It's a big part of my life and something I have spent quite a bit of time and money on. Some people may be put off by this, but it a part of me that I will not deny or hide; after all, if someone has an issue with that then how compatible could we possibly be?
Some video games that hold a special place in my heart are:
Some board games that I love are:
Bring up video/board/tabletop games, super powers, comics, cartoons, anime, manga, sci-fi, fantasy or technology and I'll happily chat your ear off. I'm quite social and love to talk, however I'm also an introvert so there are plenty of times where the pressure of constant social interactions with others gets to me and I need to take some time to myself to mentally recharge.
As I mentioned, I absolutely adore animals. Seriously, if you want to make me hate a bad guy, have him hurt an animal. Ironically, I'm practically a carnivore. I'm convinced that I would starve if I had to hunt for my own food just because I couldn't bring myself to hurt them.
Speaking of food, I'm a bit of a foodie (I dislike that word, but it's accurate.) I'm all about sauces, seasonings and spices, not to mention a love for anything deep fried. I love experiencing different tastes and textures while trying new things...as long as they're not vegetables. No veggies, except corn and potatoes; those two get a pass as they're amazing. I also enjoy onions and peppers in small quantities in dishes.
I've got a nice guy next door look in that I have no tattoos or piercings, have glasses, stay clean shaven and have a bit of a baby face (as in I look rather young, I often get mistaken for being in my mid 20's). I wouldn't say that with my look I would be called handsome, sexy or hot (however I am often called cute (I've also been called handsome a fair amount, it still feels weird though.) I'm also rather pale due to the fact that I stay indoors most of the time (if you can't tell from that, I'm white.) Because of my appearance, and my friendly and laid back nature, people tend to view me as rather innocent. I suppose that isn't entirely incorrect though, I'll admit that I can be a bit naive at times in regards to people and the world.
As for politics and religion, I tend to try to stay away from both.
While I believe I'm somewhat in the middle for the former, as I have views from both sides, if I had to choose I'd say I definitely lean way more towards the left. I believe in the greater good, the needs of the many over the needs of the few, in advancing science and finding alternative fuels and materials that don't pollute or destroy our environment in the process, in trying to create a brighter future, etc, etc. I'm definitely not on the far left however, and hate social justice and cancel culture. I'm empathetic and all, but people need to stop getting offended by every tiny thIng and creating problems that don't exist. That's definitely not exclusive to the left, the right is very guilty of it as well.
For the latter, I generally just consider myself not religious as I don't think or care about it too much. If I had to classify it though I'd say I'm agnostic. This means that, while I don't believe in any god or gods, I acknowledge that they might exist. While I'm 99.3̅3̅3̅% certain that there is no grand creator or afterlife, there's no real way we can know for certain. We're a very young and ignorant species, there's much about life and the universe that we are unaware of or don't understand yet.
I just try to focus on being a good person and doing right by others, not for some earthly or heavenly reward, or for a smug sense of self satisfaction, but because it's simply what I want to do. It's who I am and what makes me feel good about myself.
I try my best to live by The Golden Rule (also known as treat others you the way you wish to be treated or do unto others as you would have them do unto you), being guided by own moral compass that directs me in how I interact with others. I always do my very best to make others feel wanted, cared for, appreciated and understood, to give them validation; I never want anyone to feel left out or unwanted, for any reason at all. Perhaps it's from my own difficult childhood, since I felt that way when I was young and don't want others to go through the same things that I did. Whatever the reason, whenever I say or do anything I tend to, without even realizing it, think about how it will affect the other person and the different ways that it could be taken. I strive to treat others with the courtesy and respect that I believe that they deserve.
As I mentioned, I have a strong moral compass. The only problem is, this is true North for my compass; I feel that's the correct way to treat and interact with others, and I believe that's what everyone should do. So when other people don't act in the way that I believe they should, even though I know everyone is different and everyone has different thoughts, feelings and experiences that led them to those (we are the product of our environments after all), it can bother me. I've come to realize that this is due to holding myself to extremely high standards, and often holding other people to the same standards to which I hold myself.
Unfortunately, that can lead to conflicts with others, sometimes over things that they might feel to be insignificant. It doesn't happen very often though as I can recognize whether something is actually a big deal or not and put it to the back of my mind; I wouldn't be a very good friend or partner if I nitpicked over every little thing, now would I? Despite being very much driven by my moral compass, I'm also calm, collected, understanding and logical by nature.
I've realized that I used to put a lot of pressure on myself when interacting with others, trying to be funny and entertaining, overall trying to make sure that they were having a good time and enjoying themselves. If, for whatever reason, I felt that they were bored I ended up trying even harder to keep them engaged and joyful. It was somewhat of a bad habit of mine; I suppose I just felt like I had a personal stake in everyone that I interacted with, a responsibility almost, and didn't want to leave them wanting. I still do this to some extent, but not as much as I used to; as I've grown and matured, and my anxiety has lessened, I've learned to pull back a bit and that I don't need to carry everyone's burden on my shoulders. I still wish to keep people engaged and happy, and still take on more responsibility than I probably should, however I imagine that I'll always be that way; it's just in my nature.
I'm an emotionally intelligent and extremely empathetic person who's well aware of his inner workings due to my introspective nature. I'm easily able to see things from multiple perspectives, which I believe is because of how I process empathy. I don't necessarily feel the exact pain of others, but I mirror it; it's second nature for me to put myself in their position which allows me to understand the plethora of ways they can think and feel. This is something that is a core part of who I am and that I take great pride in.
I feel deeply, which can lead to me taking things to heart and sometimes reading too much into things or overanalyzing them. Thankfully, due to my great experience in emotional control and regulation (which I'm about to go into), I'm generally able to take a step back from my emotions and understand the intent and meaning behind words and actions so there's less of a chance of misunderstanding.
Because I feel so deeply, that caused problems for me when I was younger. My emotions were a swirling vortex, out of control and ready to burst out at any second. Puberty certainly didn't make this any easier either.
It's been said that our personal identity is 80% environmental and 20% genetic. While I might be genetically predispositioned to feeling so deeply, a lot of it likely comes from traumas experienced in childhood and my inability to process them properly. They left scars that I'm still dealing with today, and as a result of said scars, growing up I was diagnosed with PTSD, anxiety, depression and OCD, on top of the ADHD that I already had. However, I'm thankfully in a very good place thanks to a combination of past therapy, current medication and constant reflection.
I've done a lot of work to be able to get a handle on my emotions. Because I got used to having them under such control, I've been told that at times I can come across as kind of indifferent or hard to read. That's one of the reasons that I'm such an upfront, open, honest and expressive person; I want people to be able to understand me and I generally tell exactly what I'm thinking or how something makes me feel so that others can do that.
Honestly, one of my biggest fears is that no one will ever be able to understand me like I understand myself. It's right up there with a fear of the unknown (one is the reasons I don't do deep water, I don't want to fuck with any Cthulhu monsters that are down there) and losing my memories, as in the end we're just a sum of our memories and I don't want to lose who I am.
I never claimed to be perfect; I have my flaws as well, and try to work on them every day to improve myself as a person. Since I've already put so much of myself into my profile, I thought that it was only right to put the negative parts in as well.
While some of these things could certainly be considered negative traits, I believe that they help make me the Dom that I am. Because I AM so compassionate, because I AM so empathetic, because I HAVE been through so much and still keep going, I feel that I can give a sub or a slave what she truly needs to thrive in her environment. Feel free to read more about that below.
When you combine that with my nurturing and empathetic nature this type of relationship is the natural choice for me (more on that next). I believe that's also why I find myself naturally drawn to the weak, the helpless and the damaged. I have an overwhelming desire to heal them, to help and protect them while nurturing them and watching them grow into who I know they can be, which goes with what I was saying before.
A sub knows that her Dom loves her unconditionally and only wants what is best for her. While I do certainly enjoy doing this, I primarily do this to help my sub above all else. I'm a nurturing soul who wishes nothing more than to protect his partner. To take care of her and help her when she needs it. To be her support and her life line. To give her the guidance, structure and discipline she needs to feel fulfilled in life. To set rules and guidelines so that she can move freely within those set limits and be happy. To help her decide what is best for her when she herself doesn't know. To provide the security and comfort of knowing that she is being taken care of and that she has someone she can talk to about anything without any sort of judgment or prejudice. I want her to thrive and become the person that she was always meant to be. I enjoy pushing my sub to explore her boundaries and limits, within reason of course. I simply wish to see her flourish and blossom, to help her become what I know she can be and reach higher plateaus.
I realize the previous paragraphs could sound condescending in some ways, however that couldn't be further from the truth. I see my partner as an equal, someone who simply has different needs that I can fulfill so that they can live a fulfilling life themselves, and in turn by fulfilling those needs of theirs, I feel fulfilled as well. We ultimately form a symbiotic relationship of sorts.
Make no mistake, I have no desire to micromanage every tiny detail of my sub's life, nor form a codependent relationship where she's entirely reliant upon me for her mental and emotional needs. The level and extent of the D/s relationship is decided after long discussion and input from both parties.
Some believe that being a Dom is just telling people what to do and getting what you want while getting off, but it's so much more than that. It's not as easy or simple as it appears, you must always keep what is best for your sub in mind, even if it conflicts with your own immediate or future interests. You must constantly be aware of her needs and desires while providing checks and balances to help her live a life worth living. Anyone can simply give a sub what she wants, it takes a true Dom to say no because you feel that is what is best for her.
At least that's how it should be. There are so many "Doms" out there that don't care about their subs at all, only themselves. They don't care if they're suffering physically or emotionally, they simply use them as toys they can play with and then toss aside when they're bored; they abuse them and hurt them simply because they get a kick out of it. A real Dom/sub relationship is a very special and strong bond, much more so than a vanilla relationship in my opinion. So many people seem to have issues understanding that unfortunately, there's a certain stigma associated with this and preconceptions are formed before they even learn anything about it.
Truthfully, I believe the sub holds the power in the relationship in many ways. She is the one that is choosing to submit after all, to give up her power and control to the Dom. Despite that, she is the one that has control over the power of safe words, that can stop an activity with a single utterance. Her subservience is completely voluntary, something that many people don't seem to think about. It's not simply about someone bossing someone around because they can, it's about someone choosing a partner that they feel is worthy to give their all to.
While the following is my ideal, as I said at the beginning, I'm open to talking to anyone that reads this. However, I'm not particularly interested in "littles" or "brats".
Ideally my partner would be what is typically called an adult babygirl, and I'd like to elaborate on that term since some might not be familiar with it. Essentially it's someone who enjoys the nurturing, loving and structured aspect of a Daddy Dom or DD/lg relationship but isn't a little themselves; meaning that they don't have a mental age that they regress to, among other things. (I don't identify as a Daddy myself, however due to my protective and supportive/nurturing nature you could say I'm Daddy leaning.)
Some people have their entire lives revolve around the lifestyle, going to munches, conventions, parties and attempting to reach out to their community and find a place to belong. That might work for them, but it's of no interest to me. While I'm certainly not opposed to chatting and making friends and connections, I have no desire to be a part of a community. I'm simply seeking one whose ideas and beliefs line up with my own for a symbiotic relationship as I mentioned before
If I had to describe such a relationship, it would definitely be on the lighter side of the spectrum in regards to what daily life would be like. I'm seeking a 24/7 TPE, however I also enjoy being casual with my sub. Perhaps in some ways it's more similar to a vanilla relationship with strong Dom/sub undertones than a typical BDSM relationship.
In my perfect situation, we would still be able to joke around, have fun and be very close and romantic; however there is also the constant understanding that I am in charge, and what I say goes. No matter how much fun we may be having or what we might be doing, she should always know her place, even if it's only in the back of her mind. There are rules in place for her benefit, and if she breaks those rules she will be punished.
By what I say goes, I mean I have the final say in subjects because, as a submissive, she has given the reins of power over to me. She trusts me to make her decisions for her and to do what is best for her, to take care of and protect her. I'm never the type to say "this is how it's going to be, I don't care what you want, end of discussion" as discourse is the only way two people can truly understand one another. I always value my submissive's input and always want her to give her opinion and speak her mind if something is bothering her.
My ideal sub would be one that is loyal and devoted above all else, but also one who is looking for a Dom she can actually have a connection with. One that, not necessarily needs, but craves guidance, support, structure and discipline in their life; whose life does not feel complete without this, like there is a void deep inside her that cannot be filled unless she has a Dom to guide and take care of her, that she can in turn make happy and serve to the best of her ability.
Beyond anything else though, I want to like them as a person before I love them as a sub. My perfect partner would be someone who is intelligent, kind-hearted, earnest, funny and a has a fair touch of dorkiness in her. I want her to be someone that actually has personality, that I can laugh with and talk to for hours upon hours on end and still hate the thought of leaving. Someone that will either indulge my love of games and geekery or join me because she's just as much of a fan of those things as I am. Someone who loves how I tease and torment her, keeping her on the edge and revelling in the pleasure I get from watching her squirm.
One thing to note is that just because I am very friendly (sometimes people are surprised when I begin acting more Dominant, others aren't as they say they can "sense it in the way I present myself", even while being friendly and joking around) doesn't mean that I'm not strict when I have to be. I have no problem at all with enforcing rules and giving out punishments, although it's certainly not my favorite aspect of the relationship. I would prefer to reward, encourage and nurture my sub, however there are times when discipline is necessary; if one feels the need to act up, one must be ready accept the consequences after all.
If I had to describe my style of dominance, or what makes me dominant, I suppose that would be a little tricky. I don't feel the need to control everything, nor do I attempt to, and I have no problem with kicking back and letting others take the reigns in everyday situations if I feel they're more qualified or I just plain don't feel like it. Nor am I the type that "oozes" dominance, I don't care for confrontation and am a very easy going, go with the flow person. What I believe it boils down to is I simply feel comfortable with power and, quite frankly, enjoy it. I bear the burden of leadership well, it comes naturally to me and I thrive when I have the weight of another's life on my shoulders; I have little trouble making hard decisions when I need to. It also helps that my sexual inclinations line up with this nicely. If it doesn't last quite some time and doesn't end with both parties panting and soaked in sweat, I'm not particularly interested in it.
On that note, I have quite the kinky side despite my friendly and charming exterior. I suppose I should list it here because, while certainly not the primary focus of my interest in this, sexual compatibility does factor in to some extent.
My kinks are:
I also believe very strongly in aftercare and safe words as the mental and emotional well being of my partner is very important.
I realize there's no one way to live this lifestyle, but I feel like a lot of what I said should be obvious and general knowledge in regards to this; however from my experience it doesn't seem to be that way too often (not referring to the that are inexperienced in this, more those that do this for the wrong reason), which is why I wanted to share my views in such detail.
I feel like I've rambled on enough already and am dangerously close to having a TL;DR (yeah, I hit that ages ago), so I'll just say that if you're interested in learning more about me and getting to know me, you can give me a message and we'll see where things go. I like to get to know people naturally, just talk with them and see where things lead, whether that be a short chat, a simple friendship or something more. It seems silly to have expectations when you don't even know the person or how you'll get along.
Even if you're nervous or anxious, you think you might not be good enough, doubt my intentions or anything along those lines, still give me a message. After all, what do you have to lose?
Thanks for taking the time to read my little novella, I hope to hear from you soon. So long, and thanks for reading!
submitted by TallLab1036 to u/TallLab1036 [link] [comments]
Some have asked why I've come here to seek this, and really, why are any of us here? We're searching for something that we can't find elsewhere so we've decided to give this a shot.
I've tried other sites without luck and dating is difficult in my area. By that I mean everyone is super country, as in enjoying fishing and listening to country music while complaining about liberals. Or, to phrase it another way - guns, God and Trump. That's a hard pass for me, so this seems like the next step.
Distance isn't an issue for me. I'm hoping to meet someone and chat to see where things lead, if there's a connection of any sort. If there is, we can move from there. Distance is a relatively small issue if you can find someone who is truly perfect for you, after all.
I should also mention that, for the most part, age isn't an issue. To some extent it will be of course, but I don't mind a bit of an age gap in either direction at all. If it's an issue for you, that's understandable; however, if you think it will be for me, well the only way to really find out is to message me, now isn't it?
I'm open to anyone who sees this and is interested (including those of any experience level) as I don't want to limit myself when I could possibly find chemistry with someone.
Also, while I am in general an emotionally intelligent, nurturing and supportive person, I'm also a massive sadist. To be more specific, I enjoy psychological sadism (although physical sadism is definitely fun too) and that is reflected in my kinks and, to some extent, my personality. While I believe boundaries and limits are to be respected at all times, and I don't enjoy anything if my partner doesn't, I absolutely love teasing, tormenting and torturing my partner in both play and everyday life.
My post is cobbled together from thoughts, beliefs and realizations that I have come upon in my years in the lifestyle (which is why you might see slightly different styles of writing in different parts, this post is taken from my kink profiles and are the sum result of over ten years of experience that I find I still add to every now and then. I try to edit and organize it a bit from time to time, but it's difficult due to the fact that there's so much that I wish to include.)
Long story short, I can be a bit...rambly, sometimes. So apologies in advance for that, although I have recently made great strides in editing my post. So I've got that going for me, which is nice.
While it's certainly a lengthy read, it's not nearly as bad as it seems. I recommend reading the whole thing (obviously since I wrote it), especially if you're interested in getting to know a kinky, geeky and empathetic person.
Now that I've covered that, it's time to get to the part you've been waiting for.
About me:
I decided to put this part first because I believe that, above all else, the people involved should connect on a personal level and "click", if you will. This tells about who I am and my hobbies and such. If someone can't accept this part of me, how could we possibly get along?I'm a lighthearted, playful and fairly laid back, yet somewhat serious minded, person who's rather upbeat and probably too curious for his own good. I'm also kind, caring, friendly, sometimes cynical and often sarcastic (although in a lighthearted manner, and never at the expense of others.) There's nothing I love to do more than laugh; I love most things involving humor, although I do believe there's a very fine line between hilarity and stupidity.
Now, for some little bits of trivia about me:
- According to the Myers-Briggs system, I'm an INFP. Online tests can give you an idea of where to start, but they're not that reliable and the results can change depending on your mood that day. To truly discover your type requires self-reflection to learn about your cognitive functions, and while doing so I learned a lot about myself. I don't follow it religiously, but I believe there are some elements of truth to it.
- I'm definitely a Type B Personality.
- I'm a hopeless romantic, an old soul who's young at heart, a cynical optimist and a realistic dreamer.
- I'm definitely that type that believes in better safe than sorry, and one of my mottos is "Hope for the best, prepare for the worst." I also tend to do copious amounts of research before any big decision.
- I consider myself to be a very grounded, down to earth and genuine person.
- I'm extremely friendly and believe in treating others with the same respect that you would like to receive and generally try to do what I feel is "right" by others (more on that in a bit.)
- I like to believe in the best of human nature, although I seem to be let down a fair bit. Even so, I don't want to let that stop me.
- I have very strong values and ideals, and an even stronger moral compass.
- I believe people are free to do and believe what they want, so long as they don't harm themselves, harm, cause trouble for or inconvenience others, or attempt to force those beliefs on others.
- I believe that a life lived for others is the only life worth living.
- I believe that there's no point in worrying about things that you can't change. If you let yourself get dragged down by it and obsess over it, you'll find yourself crushed under the weight of all the injustices in the world.
- I've been told (rather often actually) that I have a very nice voice, frequently being told that I should go into radio or be an announcer of some kind. I'm very expressive and my voice reflects that, having lots of highs and lows. Truthfully, I believe it's one of my better features.
- I much prefer talking to typing in general, especially when first getting to know someone as you get a much better idea of their personality. Also, I feel like I come across kind of...stiff in my writing style when that's very much not me, so voice allows me to showcase my truest self.
- I tend to be a confidant of sorts; due to my open and genuine nature and what I've been told is a welcoming...aura, I suppose, people tend to find me easy to talk to and trust, coming to me to confide things and seek out advice. This is something that brings me great happiness and pride as having the trust of others is important to me.
- Promises are very important to me; once I give my word in regards to something I'll keep it, even if I don't particularly want to. As cheesy as it might sound, to me my word is my bond.
- Admittedly, subtlety is not one of my strong points. I'm a very open, upfront and honest person. I'm terrible at lying (I hate doing it and I just give away that I am) and can't keep a straight face to save my life. If I were an actor, I would probably be Jimmy Fallon.
- I welcome people to give me constructive criticism and feedback as I'm constantly looking to improve myself. Yes, that even includes those that message me saying my post is far too long.
- I can't fake a smile to save my life, it has to be genuine for me. One of the many reasons I hate having photos taken of me.
- I find intelligence, humor and kindness to be the most desirable traits in a partner (although being easy on the eyes doesn't hurt.)
- My senses are all very sensitive, and can sometimes overwhelm me when I'm introduced to new stimuli.
- I used to do drugs. I still do, but I used to too. Wait, I'm just kidding, just wanted to throw a little Mitch Hedberg in here. I don't drink, smoke or do drugs. While I have no issue with those who drink, I do tend to avoid smokers and hardcore drug users.
- Despite what the length of my post may say about me, I absolutely hate writing.
- I enjoy visiting places but hate the actual traveling (which is one of the reasons why if I could have one power it would be teleportation [actually if I could have one power it would be the ability to manipulate space and time, however for simplicity's sake I'm just going to say teleportation for now {not Star Trek teleportation though, fuck that.}])
- I hate waiting and I hate making others wait.
- I love the symbolism of trees and what they represent: strength, vitality, protection.
- If I had to rank the seven deadly sins in the order that I'm guilty of from most to least, it would go: Gluttony, Pride, Sloth, Lust, Envy, Greed and Wrath.
- If I were to list the Magic the Gathering colors that I most identify with from most to least, it would go: White, Blue, Green, Red and then Black.
- Growing up I was all about DBZ, Dinosaurs, Gargoyles, Ghostbusters, Ninja Turtles, Pokémon, Power Rangers, Spider-Man & X-Men.
- I absolutely love animals and have two cats of my own, Ivy and Jasmine (there are wonderful stories behind both names), that I love to death. I probably talk to them like people a bit too much.
- I spend far more time living in my head than I should.
- I firmly believe that breakfast offers the best food. I could eat waffles everyday.
- I call Gatorade by their flavors as opposed to their colors.
- I absolutely love when I'm thirsty and soda burns my throat.
- You won't catch me running unless something is chasing me. Partially because I have asthma, but mostly because running is awful.
Some bands I enjoy include:
Adelitas Way, Amaranthe, Breaking Benjamin, Disturbed, Evans Blue, Five Finger Death Punch, Gemini Syndrome, Otherwise, Pop Evil, Sevendust, Shinedown, Shaman's Harvest, State of Mine, Theory of a Deadman, Three Days Grace (before Adam Gontier left)I enjoy other types of music as well, for example another band I like is Bowling for Soup as I love their sense of humor; it's great to see people not taking music so seriously. I'm also a fan of big band music, which I actually have Fallout 3 to thank for. I enjoy classical musical as well and, despite having no real knowledge of it and most of it sounding the same, I find it incredibly relaxing and peaceful.
While I enjoy relaxing and watching television, I have trouble watching hour long shows as I can only focus on it for so long before my attention wavers, around that time I start looking at my phone and just waiting for it to be over. It's also why I don't watch too many movies; I need my entertainment bite sized. I'll watch movies every once in a while, but they generally need to be 100 minutes tops (unless it's something I'm super into.).
I have difficulty getting into things that are realistic; they usually need to be fantastical in nature and capture my imagination. My preferred genres are comedy, horror (mainly supernatural, no slashers) and most things involving special powers or abilities, however I can sometimes get into action or drama as well. I also have a love for the world of animation, possibly because they tend to be more creative and aren't limited by reality; it's part of why I'm so partial to anime.
Some shows that I'm fond of are:
Animation: Adventure Time, American Dad, Archer, Avatar: The Last Airbender, Bob's Burgers, Bojack Horseman, [China, IL], Disenchantment, Futurama, HarmonQuest, Harvey Birdman: Attorney at Law, King of the Hill, Metalocalypse, Mike Tyson Mysteries, Mr. Pickles, Rick and Morty, Robot Chicken, South Park, Superjail, Ugly Americans, Venture Bros.I definitely binge my shows, I like to wait for a season (or preferably an entire series) to be done before I jump into it. I'm also the type that's fine watching something just once. If I ever feel the need to watch it again it will be many, many years later. This extends to games as well, I generally need things with replayability such as MOBA's or Rogue-likes.
Live-action: Arrested Development, Better Call Saul, Breaking Bad, Carnivàle, Dexter, Eureka, Friends, Game of Thrones, The Good Place, House, The Lost Room, Monk, The Muppets (2015 series), The Office, Parks and Rec, Psych, Stargate, Stranger Things, Walking Dead, Warehouse 13, Wilfred
Gaming is easily one of my biggest hobbies and has been for many, many years now. I see it as an art form, as a way to tell a story that you can deeply immerse yourself in and get pulled into, something that can captivate you and make you lose all track of time because it's simply so engrossing. It's also a damn good way to have fun and kill time, especially when you're playing with friends. It's a big part of my life and something I have spent quite a bit of time and money on. Some people may be put off by this, but it a part of me that I will not deny or hide; after all, if someone has an issue with that then how compatible could we possibly be?
Some video games that hold a special place in my heart are:
Action/Adventure: Alan Wake, Assassin's Creed, Bastion, Batman: Arkham Asylum, Bayonetta, Brütal Legend, Bully, Darksiders, Dark Souls (first one), Deadly Premonition, Dead Space, Devil May Cry (3 & 5), Enslaved: Odyssey to the West, Heavy Rain, Hellblade, Infamous, Last of Us, Legend of Zelda (A Link to the Past, Ocarina of Time, Majora's Mask, Wind Waker), Luigi's Mansion, Metal Gear Solid (Twin Snakes, 3, 4 & 5), Ninja Gaiden (2004), Overlord, Phantom Crash, Resident Evil 2 remake, Saint's Row 2, The Saboteur, TMNT: Turtles in TimeNot only that, but I've also gotten into tabletop gaming, including both board and pen and paper games (such as Dungeons and Dragons.) I initially got into the latter as an exercise to strengthen my creative muscles but found it was a fun way to goof off with friends. For the former, it's almost gotten to the point that I enjoy them more than most video games as it provides an experience that you don't get anymore; friends gathered around and competing against one another or cooperating against a common foe, something that's disappeared with the advent of the internet.
Fighting: Anarchy Reigns, Blazblue (series), DBZ: Budokai, Dragon Ball Fighterz, Marvel vs Capcom (2 & 3), Mortal Kombat (9 & 11), Soul Calibur 3, Super Smash Bros. Melee
MOBA: Dota 2, Guardians of Middle Earth, Heroes of the Storm
Rogue-like: Binding of Isaac, Crypt of the Necrodancer, Darkest Dungeon, Dead Cells, Don't Starve, FTL, Monster Train, Slay the Spire
RPG: Bravely Default, Dragon Age (Origins and Inquisition), Dragon's Dogma, Elder Scrolls (Oblivion and Skyrim), Fable (1 & 2), Fallout (3 & New Vegas), Final Fantasy (IX, X & Tactics Advance), Grim Dawn, Mass Effect 2, Pillars of Eternity (series), Pokémon (Red, Blue, Yellow, Gold, Silver & Stadium), Star Wars: Knights of the Old Republic, Suikoden 2, Tyranny, The Witcher (2 & 3)
Shooter: Bioshock (series), Battlefield Bad Company (1 & 2), The Darkness, Deep Rock Galactic, Gears of War (1 & 3), Left 4 Dead, Shadowrun (2007 FPS), Team Fortress 2 (when it first came out, it's a little much now), Vanquish
Simulation: Animal Crossing (first one), Doki Doki Literature Club, Harvest Moon, Life is Strange, Pokémon Snap, Tabletop Simulator
Strategy: Civilization (3 & 4), Endless Legend, Magic the Gathering: Duels of the Planeswalkers (2012 & 2013), Portal, Star Wars: Galactic Battlegrounds, Warcraft 3
Some board games that I love are:
BANG! The Dice Game, Dead of Winter, Dice Throne, Epic Spell Wars, King of New York, Lords of Waterdeep, Munchkin, Pandemic, Red Dragon InnI enjoy reading as well, although I find it difficult to find a book that can keep my focus and really draw me in like I crave. I'm constantly on the prowl for new material, and my favorite genres would probably be apocalyptic/post-apocalyptic, dystopian, horror and dark fantasy/grimdark, although I'm certainly in the market for something that has a good element of humor to it as well. If you have any recommendations, I'd absolutely love to hear them!
Bring up video/board/tabletop games, super powers, comics, cartoons, anime, manga, sci-fi, fantasy or technology and I'll happily chat your ear off. I'm quite social and love to talk, however I'm also an introvert so there are plenty of times where the pressure of constant social interactions with others gets to me and I need to take some time to myself to mentally recharge.
As I mentioned, I absolutely adore animals. Seriously, if you want to make me hate a bad guy, have him hurt an animal. Ironically, I'm practically a carnivore. I'm convinced that I would starve if I had to hunt for my own food just because I couldn't bring myself to hurt them.
Speaking of food, I'm a bit of a foodie (I dislike that word, but it's accurate.) I'm all about sauces, seasonings and spices, not to mention a love for anything deep fried. I love experiencing different tastes and textures while trying new things...as long as they're not vegetables. No veggies, except corn and potatoes; those two get a pass as they're amazing. I also enjoy onions and peppers in small quantities in dishes.
I've got a nice guy next door look in that I have no tattoos or piercings, have glasses, stay clean shaven and have a bit of a baby face (as in I look rather young, I often get mistaken for being in my mid 20's). I wouldn't say that with my look I would be called handsome, sexy or hot (however I am often called cute (I've also been called handsome a fair amount, it still feels weird though.) I'm also rather pale due to the fact that I stay indoors most of the time (if you can't tell from that, I'm white.) Because of my appearance, and my friendly and laid back nature, people tend to view me as rather innocent. I suppose that isn't entirely incorrect though, I'll admit that I can be a bit naive at times in regards to people and the world.
As for politics and religion, I tend to try to stay away from both.
While I believe I'm somewhat in the middle for the former, as I have views from both sides, if I had to choose I'd say I definitely lean way more towards the left. I believe in the greater good, the needs of the many over the needs of the few, in advancing science and finding alternative fuels and materials that don't pollute or destroy our environment in the process, in trying to create a brighter future, etc, etc. I'm definitely not on the far left however, and hate social justice and cancel culture. I'm empathetic and all, but people need to stop getting offended by every tiny thIng and creating problems that don't exist. That's definitely not exclusive to the left, the right is very guilty of it as well.
For the latter, I generally just consider myself not religious as I don't think or care about it too much. If I had to classify it though I'd say I'm agnostic. This means that, while I don't believe in any god or gods, I acknowledge that they might exist. While I'm 99.3̅3̅3̅% certain that there is no grand creator or afterlife, there's no real way we can know for certain. We're a very young and ignorant species, there's much about life and the universe that we are unaware of or don't understand yet.
I just try to focus on being a good person and doing right by others, not for some earthly or heavenly reward, or for a smug sense of self satisfaction, but because it's simply what I want to do. It's who I am and what makes me feel good about myself.
I try my best to live by The Golden Rule (also known as treat others you the way you wish to be treated or do unto others as you would have them do unto you), being guided by own moral compass that directs me in how I interact with others. I always do my very best to make others feel wanted, cared for, appreciated and understood, to give them validation; I never want anyone to feel left out or unwanted, for any reason at all. Perhaps it's from my own difficult childhood, since I felt that way when I was young and don't want others to go through the same things that I did. Whatever the reason, whenever I say or do anything I tend to, without even realizing it, think about how it will affect the other person and the different ways that it could be taken. I strive to treat others with the courtesy and respect that I believe that they deserve.
As I mentioned, I have a strong moral compass. The only problem is, this is true North for my compass; I feel that's the correct way to treat and interact with others, and I believe that's what everyone should do. So when other people don't act in the way that I believe they should, even though I know everyone is different and everyone has different thoughts, feelings and experiences that led them to those (we are the product of our environments after all), it can bother me. I've come to realize that this is due to holding myself to extremely high standards, and often holding other people to the same standards to which I hold myself.
Unfortunately, that can lead to conflicts with others, sometimes over things that they might feel to be insignificant. It doesn't happen very often though as I can recognize whether something is actually a big deal or not and put it to the back of my mind; I wouldn't be a very good friend or partner if I nitpicked over every little thing, now would I? Despite being very much driven by my moral compass, I'm also calm, collected, understanding and logical by nature.
I've realized that I used to put a lot of pressure on myself when interacting with others, trying to be funny and entertaining, overall trying to make sure that they were having a good time and enjoying themselves. If, for whatever reason, I felt that they were bored I ended up trying even harder to keep them engaged and joyful. It was somewhat of a bad habit of mine; I suppose I just felt like I had a personal stake in everyone that I interacted with, a responsibility almost, and didn't want to leave them wanting. I still do this to some extent, but not as much as I used to; as I've grown and matured, and my anxiety has lessened, I've learned to pull back a bit and that I don't need to carry everyone's burden on my shoulders. I still wish to keep people engaged and happy, and still take on more responsibility than I probably should, however I imagine that I'll always be that way; it's just in my nature.
I'm an emotionally intelligent and extremely empathetic person who's well aware of his inner workings due to my introspective nature. I'm easily able to see things from multiple perspectives, which I believe is because of how I process empathy. I don't necessarily feel the exact pain of others, but I mirror it; it's second nature for me to put myself in their position which allows me to understand the plethora of ways they can think and feel. This is something that is a core part of who I am and that I take great pride in.
I feel deeply, which can lead to me taking things to heart and sometimes reading too much into things or overanalyzing them. Thankfully, due to my great experience in emotional control and regulation (which I'm about to go into), I'm generally able to take a step back from my emotions and understand the intent and meaning behind words and actions so there's less of a chance of misunderstanding.
Because I feel so deeply, that caused problems for me when I was younger. My emotions were a swirling vortex, out of control and ready to burst out at any second. Puberty certainly didn't make this any easier either.
It's been said that our personal identity is 80% environmental and 20% genetic. While I might be genetically predispositioned to feeling so deeply, a lot of it likely comes from traumas experienced in childhood and my inability to process them properly. They left scars that I'm still dealing with today, and as a result of said scars, growing up I was diagnosed with PTSD, anxiety, depression and OCD, on top of the ADHD that I already had. However, I'm thankfully in a very good place thanks to a combination of past therapy, current medication and constant reflection.
I've done a lot of work to be able to get a handle on my emotions. Because I got used to having them under such control, I've been told that at times I can come across as kind of indifferent or hard to read. That's one of the reasons that I'm such an upfront, open, honest and expressive person; I want people to be able to understand me and I generally tell exactly what I'm thinking or how something makes me feel so that others can do that.
Honestly, one of my biggest fears is that no one will ever be able to understand me like I understand myself. It's right up there with a fear of the unknown (one is the reasons I don't do deep water, I don't want to fuck with any Cthulhu monsters that are down there) and losing my memories, as in the end we're just a sum of our memories and I don't want to lose who I am.
I never claimed to be perfect; I have my flaws as well, and try to work on them every day to improve myself as a person. Since I've already put so much of myself into my profile, I thought that it was only right to put the negative parts in as well.
While some of these things could certainly be considered negative traits, I believe that they help make me the Dom that I am. Because I AM so compassionate, because I AM so empathetic, because I HAVE been through so much and still keep going, I feel that I can give a sub or a slave what she truly needs to thrive in her environment. Feel free to read more about that below.
My Beliefs:
If I had to break down why this all appeals to me to one reason, to put it simply, I'd have to say that I'm the kind of person who wants to be needed. I find that, overall, I feel more driven and fulfilled if I know that I have someone that depends on me. If I have someone whose best interests I must keep in mind, who I need to protect and care for, I feel a greater sense of purpose than the humdrum rumblings of everyday life.When you combine that with my nurturing and empathetic nature this type of relationship is the natural choice for me (more on that next). I believe that's also why I find myself naturally drawn to the weak, the helpless and the damaged. I have an overwhelming desire to heal them, to help and protect them while nurturing them and watching them grow into who I know they can be, which goes with what I was saying before.
A sub knows that her Dom loves her unconditionally and only wants what is best for her. While I do certainly enjoy doing this, I primarily do this to help my sub above all else. I'm a nurturing soul who wishes nothing more than to protect his partner. To take care of her and help her when she needs it. To be her support and her life line. To give her the guidance, structure and discipline she needs to feel fulfilled in life. To set rules and guidelines so that she can move freely within those set limits and be happy. To help her decide what is best for her when she herself doesn't know. To provide the security and comfort of knowing that she is being taken care of and that she has someone she can talk to about anything without any sort of judgment or prejudice. I want her to thrive and become the person that she was always meant to be. I enjoy pushing my sub to explore her boundaries and limits, within reason of course. I simply wish to see her flourish and blossom, to help her become what I know she can be and reach higher plateaus.
I realize the previous paragraphs could sound condescending in some ways, however that couldn't be further from the truth. I see my partner as an equal, someone who simply has different needs that I can fulfill so that they can live a fulfilling life themselves, and in turn by fulfilling those needs of theirs, I feel fulfilled as well. We ultimately form a symbiotic relationship of sorts.
Make no mistake, I have no desire to micromanage every tiny detail of my sub's life, nor form a codependent relationship where she's entirely reliant upon me for her mental and emotional needs. The level and extent of the D/s relationship is decided after long discussion and input from both parties.
Some believe that being a Dom is just telling people what to do and getting what you want while getting off, but it's so much more than that. It's not as easy or simple as it appears, you must always keep what is best for your sub in mind, even if it conflicts with your own immediate or future interests. You must constantly be aware of her needs and desires while providing checks and balances to help her live a life worth living. Anyone can simply give a sub what she wants, it takes a true Dom to say no because you feel that is what is best for her.
At least that's how it should be. There are so many "Doms" out there that don't care about their subs at all, only themselves. They don't care if they're suffering physically or emotionally, they simply use them as toys they can play with and then toss aside when they're bored; they abuse them and hurt them simply because they get a kick out of it. A real Dom/sub relationship is a very special and strong bond, much more so than a vanilla relationship in my opinion. So many people seem to have issues understanding that unfortunately, there's a certain stigma associated with this and preconceptions are formed before they even learn anything about it.
Truthfully, I believe the sub holds the power in the relationship in many ways. She is the one that is choosing to submit after all, to give up her power and control to the Dom. Despite that, she is the one that has control over the power of safe words, that can stop an activity with a single utterance. Her subservience is completely voluntary, something that many people don't seem to think about. It's not simply about someone bossing someone around because they can, it's about someone choosing a partner that they feel is worthy to give their all to.
What I'm looking for:
I'm not here looking for a booty call or one night stand, but to find a potential partner in crime, possibly for life if a connection is made. More than anything, I simply wish to find someone who looks at me the way this girl looks at her prom date.While the following is my ideal, as I said at the beginning, I'm open to talking to anyone that reads this. However, I'm not particularly interested in "littles" or "brats".
Ideally my partner would be what is typically called an adult babygirl, and I'd like to elaborate on that term since some might not be familiar with it. Essentially it's someone who enjoys the nurturing, loving and structured aspect of a Daddy Dom or DD/lg relationship but isn't a little themselves; meaning that they don't have a mental age that they regress to, among other things. (I don't identify as a Daddy myself, however due to my protective and supportive/nurturing nature you could say I'm Daddy leaning.)
Some people have their entire lives revolve around the lifestyle, going to munches, conventions, parties and attempting to reach out to their community and find a place to belong. That might work for them, but it's of no interest to me. While I'm certainly not opposed to chatting and making friends and connections, I have no desire to be a part of a community. I'm simply seeking one whose ideas and beliefs line up with my own for a symbiotic relationship as I mentioned before
If I had to describe such a relationship, it would definitely be on the lighter side of the spectrum in regards to what daily life would be like. I'm seeking a 24/7 TPE, however I also enjoy being casual with my sub. Perhaps in some ways it's more similar to a vanilla relationship with strong Dom/sub undertones than a typical BDSM relationship.
In my perfect situation, we would still be able to joke around, have fun and be very close and romantic; however there is also the constant understanding that I am in charge, and what I say goes. No matter how much fun we may be having or what we might be doing, she should always know her place, even if it's only in the back of her mind. There are rules in place for her benefit, and if she breaks those rules she will be punished.
By what I say goes, I mean I have the final say in subjects because, as a submissive, she has given the reins of power over to me. She trusts me to make her decisions for her and to do what is best for her, to take care of and protect her. I'm never the type to say "this is how it's going to be, I don't care what you want, end of discussion" as discourse is the only way two people can truly understand one another. I always value my submissive's input and always want her to give her opinion and speak her mind if something is bothering her.
My ideal sub would be one that is loyal and devoted above all else, but also one who is looking for a Dom she can actually have a connection with. One that, not necessarily needs, but craves guidance, support, structure and discipline in their life; whose life does not feel complete without this, like there is a void deep inside her that cannot be filled unless she has a Dom to guide and take care of her, that she can in turn make happy and serve to the best of her ability.
Beyond anything else though, I want to like them as a person before I love them as a sub. My perfect partner would be someone who is intelligent, kind-hearted, earnest, funny and a has a fair touch of dorkiness in her. I want her to be someone that actually has personality, that I can laugh with and talk to for hours upon hours on end and still hate the thought of leaving. Someone that will either indulge my love of games and geekery or join me because she's just as much of a fan of those things as I am. Someone who loves how I tease and torment her, keeping her on the edge and revelling in the pleasure I get from watching her squirm.
One thing to note is that just because I am very friendly (sometimes people are surprised when I begin acting more Dominant, others aren't as they say they can "sense it in the way I present myself", even while being friendly and joking around) doesn't mean that I'm not strict when I have to be. I have no problem at all with enforcing rules and giving out punishments, although it's certainly not my favorite aspect of the relationship. I would prefer to reward, encourage and nurture my sub, however there are times when discipline is necessary; if one feels the need to act up, one must be ready accept the consequences after all.
If I had to describe my style of dominance, or what makes me dominant, I suppose that would be a little tricky. I don't feel the need to control everything, nor do I attempt to, and I have no problem with kicking back and letting others take the reigns in everyday situations if I feel they're more qualified or I just plain don't feel like it. Nor am I the type that "oozes" dominance, I don't care for confrontation and am a very easy going, go with the flow person. What I believe it boils down to is I simply feel comfortable with power and, quite frankly, enjoy it. I bear the burden of leadership well, it comes naturally to me and I thrive when I have the weight of another's life on my shoulders; I have little trouble making hard decisions when I need to. It also helps that my sexual inclinations line up with this nicely. If it doesn't last quite some time and doesn't end with both parties panting and soaked in sweat, I'm not particularly interested in it.
On that note, I have quite the kinky side despite my friendly and charming exterior. I suppose I should list it here because, while certainly not the primary focus of my interest in this, sexual compatibility does factor in to some extent.
My kinks are:
Anal, begging, biting, blowjobs, body worship, bondage, choking, cock worship, consensual non-consent, creampies, crying (the good kind), cumplay, deepthroating, degradation, desperation, dirty talking, face fucking, facials, free use, hair pulling, hole stretching (basically pushing my partner to her limits), humiliation, hypnosis, name calling, objectification, orgasm control (which includes edging, forced orgasms, orgasm denial and ruined orgasms), public play (in a discreet manner), slapping, spanking, spitting and teasing.One thing I feel I should mention is that the acts of degradation and humilation are limited to play time and only sexual in nature, never attacking my partner in any way.
I also believe very strongly in aftercare and safe words as the mental and emotional well being of my partner is very important.
I realize there's no one way to live this lifestyle, but I feel like a lot of what I said should be obvious and general knowledge in regards to this; however from my experience it doesn't seem to be that way too often (not referring to the that are inexperienced in this, more those that do this for the wrong reason), which is why I wanted to share my views in such detail.
Even if you're nervous or anxious, you think you might not be good enough, doubt my intentions or anything along those lines, still give me a message. After all, what do you have to lose?
Thanks for taking the time to read my little novella, I hope to hear from you soon. So long, and thanks for reading!
2023.05.29 17:41 jhpratt2 $nwbo-Pakistan
Currently, NWBO's Sawston plant is the only visible global hub for DC VAX L manufacturing and distribution (MHRA MIA approval 3/20/23) . For $400 , FED EX (https://www.fedex.com/en-us/custom-critical.html) ships anywhere globally within the required timeframes.A SAGE (https://journals.sagepub.com/doi/10.1177/20363613231179541) 5/26/23 scientific publication demonstrates intent by Pakistani neurosurgeons to treat and cure their GBM patients. Looks like the DC VAX L JAMA paper and LIAU- Bosch presentations since 10/26/22 have created global awareness that DCVAX L will be is a major global cell based biotech therapy, addressing GBM , and all solid tumors( https://conferences.asco.org/am/industry-expert-theater).
With 50% of LIAU-SPORE-UCLA combo patents living 10 years, DC VAX L has turned SOC's GBM treatment from a terminal (16.5) months disease into a chronic treatable malignancy .
Dr. Greg Zivic:
"This treatment can turn a Glioblastoma into a chronic treatable disease even after recurrence of the tumor . "
https://nwbio.com/northwest-biotherapeutics-and-advent-bioservices-announce-receipt-of-license-for-commercial-manufacturing-at-sawston-u-k-facility/
https://twitter.com/AllenTurner206/status/1636426400382205952
https://investorshub.advfn.com/boards/read_msg.aspx?message_id=171479167
Monday, May 29, 2023 9:13:34 AM
Post# 596739 of 596755 4 Pakistani neurosurgeons endorsing the JAMA Liau dc vax l phase 3 study. Will the RA in Pakistan facilitate their patients' resected GBM tumors and lysate being sent to Sawston , with syringes of dc vax l sent back to Pakistan?
https://jamanetwork.com/journals/jamaoncology/fullarticle/2798847
https://journals.sagepub.com/doi/10.1177/20363613231179541
https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/36591625/
IMO,BB's consultant is a "legend ", as alleged.Therefore, I recommend reading every on of his posts, word for word.
Bright Boy Brian F Egolf Sr M: Bright Boy
Re: ae kusterer post# 593171
Sunday, May 14, 2023 2:22:21 PM
Post# 593185 of 593185 I am definitely not a biotech expert and what I've learned about Northwest and DCVax-l was shared with me by one of the legends in the biotech world !!! My biggest takeaway is this:
From 2018 forward, it became apparent that DCVax-L was a breakthrough, technological process for the treatment of nGBM and rGBM, but its true potential was only known by a "handful" of experts, and as such, the understanding of the broader market implications was a relative unknown. Early on, several of the comments that I heard from BP were," The GBM market is really not that big!" and " Personalized, Immunotherapy vaccines are not really in our 'Wheelhouse'. We sell compounds/pills!!" On and on! The comments didn't mean that BP wasn't paying attention! Quite the contrary, BP was watching like a hawk as results from Dr. Liau and the UCLA trials began to leak into the medical community suggesting a broader application of DCVax-L on a "stand alone" basis and in combination with CI's for all large tumor cancers ( mentioned in the latest 10Q for future trials), thus dramatically expanding market potentials!!! But the "Big Moment" occurred in late October of last year when the STADIUM LIGHTS turned on, shining bright lights on the latest nGBM/rGBM ,Dr. Liau trial data suggesting 50%to 65% OS for 8 years with emphasis on rGBM !!! That was the point in time when BP and the entire biotech world realized that GBM/rGBM would be treated and managed as a CHRONIC DISEASE!!! with unlimited PROMISE and HOPE for patients and unlimited marketing potential to finance existing vaccine production and the continuing development for improved treatments for all diseases!!!!!
So that's what I learned and that's my story and I'm stickin to it!!!!
Cheers especially to all the Mom's and to everyone !!!
BB
Joseph H.Pratt: https://investorshub.advfn.com/boards/read_msg.aspx?message_id=172010930
Bright Boy Re: None Saturday, March 18, 2023 12:38:55 PM Post# of 596750 Go People, People, People !!!!
The light switch just turned on for me !!! I'm not a doctor or scientist or a STEM concentration "rock star", but if I read something over and over again several times and look carefully at the pictures SOMETIMES, NOT ALL THE TIME, a major mental breakthrough occurs and I believe that I've discovered something very profound!!
In this case, I believe the main message from the slide deck is that DCVax-L, either by itself or in combination with CI's has turned the whole thing around for treating nGBM/rGBM from having to kill the tumor to a "management process" !! It looks like now with this new information, that GBM patients can receive vaccinations as needed with "Zero" side effects and live a long and happy life !!! A comment from a medical expert that DOES KNOW !!!:
Dr. Greg Zivic:
This treatment can turn a Glioblastoma into a chronic treatable disease even after recurrence of the tumor.
So help me out here. Does the above reasoning seem logical based on the slides all of us have just reviewed?? If it does or is, then little Team Northwest has just changed the healthcare landscape forever in the way that we treat disease!!!!!
Am I way off base or are all of onto to something that is fabulous beyond belief???
Cheers,
BB
Bright Boy Re: thermopost# 591947 Tuesday, May 09, 2023 8:41:30 PM Post# of 596749 Go The UK is determined to be the world carrousel for use of immunotherapy vaccines to treat cancers and all forms of disease!!! From my friends in the UK, my use of the word "determined" grossly understates the effort behind the "Grand Plan"!!
So far, the MHRA has not only accepted and approved the MIA application (manufacturing license), but voluntarily offered the expansion to a GLOBAL MANUFACTURING" license allowing for the import of live cells and the export of vaccines to the far corners of the earth!!! People!!! That is huge!!!!! BUT as always 99.99% of the retail investors don't understand the significance of that license or anything else about the process and look to the screen to validate the importance/value of the license, where they are greeted by Citadel and Virtu and the rest of the gang that manipulate the price to new lows, confirming that, in spite of everything they just read from the greatest medical minds in the universe, is a bunch of crap!!!!
Fortunately for the cancer patients and shareholders of Northwest, the MHRA does not include in their decision making process the current SP of NWBO or the opinion of the "gutter filth" that manage those companies or any other companies that participate in the ordered destruction of small biotechs that are engaged in the development of immunotherapy vaccines!! So, it's on to the filing of the MAA (marketing license), the approval and the decisions that will guarantee swift treatment deliveries to patients!!
So Griffin and Cifu and Fuerstein and the rest can lie all they want , but the GREAT UNITED KINGDOM will not be denied the ultimate crown of being the WORLD CENTER for CANCER TREATMENT !!!!!
Cheers,
BB
Bright Boy Re: hoffmann6383post# 578889 Tuesday, March 21, 2023 1:55:12 PM Post# of 596749 Go People, People, People!!! It's your friendly "hillbilly" here with some more great news!! Don't know if I can "one up" my earlier post about the "Dog eating the license", but I'll try. So here we go!!
I don't think everyone realizes how dynamic and important the manufacturing license really is so I'll take a shot at giving you my take on it. First of all, the marketing approval (MAA) and the government subsidy approval(NICE) are pretty much in the bag before the manufacturing team gets the "green light" to proceed. The MAA and NICE teams talk to the MIA team and say," This stuff looks really cool and we wanted to let you know before you run off and do a lot of work on something that we won't approve when you're finished!!" Okay! So that's the first part.
Now for the second part and this is the part that involves a lot of money so read very carefully!!! The MIA license allows for global export of the vaccines and global import of immune cells/tumor resected material. Anyone in the entire world that is diagnosed with GBM can NOW ship their tumor samples to Northwest/Advent/Sawston to have their personal vaccine made and stored, all to be shipped back to the patient/doctor on a prescribed injection schedule. The beauty of this process is that patients everywhere can NOW receive their vaccine on a compassionate care basis. No more waiting!! No more opportunities for the "dark forces" to delay or deny suffering cancer patients their desperately needed treatments !!!
People, as of yesterday, Northwest is now IN BUSINESS !!!! AND that opens the door for institutional investors and an uplist to the New York or Nasdaq exchanges!!!!
All of the above is as good as that first sip of ice cold buttermilk on a hot summer day!!!! AND for those unfortunate shorts and haters it adds a whole new description to the letters FTD and I'll let you guess what that might be!!!
Cheers,
BB
Bright Boy Re: None Tuesday, March 21, 2023 9:05:54 PM Post# of 596749 Go The MIA allows for "International Immune Cell Imports" and "International Vaccine Exports" !!! That is big news and a big, big market and should access every cancer patient in need!!!!
Cheers,
BB
ae kusterer
Re: None
Monday, May 29, 2023 9:13:34 AM
Post# 596739 of 596755 4 Pakistani neurosurgeons endorsing the JAMA Liau dc vax l phase 3 study. Will the RA in Pakistan facilitate their patients' resected GBM tumors and lysate being sent to Sawston , with syringes of dc vax l sent back to Pakistan?
https://jamanetwork.com/journals/jamaoncology/fullarticle/2798847
https://journals.sagepub.com/doi/10.1177/20363613231179541
https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/36591625/
Abstract Objective: To define the landscape of treatment patterns and current epidemiological data regarding gliomas in Pakistan.
Methods: As part of the Pakistan Brain Tumour Epidemiology Study (PBTES), data were collected from 32 neurosurgical centres across the country. Our retrospective study looked at patients who underwent surgical procedures for gliomas in 2019 in neurosurgical centres. The data was collated and analysed using STATA version 15.
Results: A total of 781 patients with gliomas were identified 479(61.8%) in public sector hospitals, 302(39.1%) in the private sector). The most common histopathological subtypes were glioblastoma 262 (33.5%), followed by astrocytoma 147(18.8%) and oligodendroglioma 93(11.9%). Gender distribution was skewed towards men 508(65%). Private institution hospitals performed surgical biopsies as the first surgical procedure 75(23%) more often than public hospitals 38(9%). Chemotherapy was given to 115(29.8%) patients, and there was no data regarding 467(53%) of patients. Similarly, only 202(43.9%) patients received radiation therapy, and there was no data for 469(60%) of patients. For high-grade gliomas specifically, only 95(31.8%) patients with HGG have a record of receiving radiation therapy, and only 57(18.9%) had a record of being started on chemotherapy.
DCvax: A promising advancement in oncology for the treatment of glioblastoma Areeba Fareed https://orcid.org/0000-0001-5906-9852 [email protected], Samia Rohail https://orcid.org/0000-0003-1488-0080, […], and Abdul Moiz Khan https://orcid.org/0000-0001-9796-8867+1View all authors and affiliations All Articles https://doi.org/10.1177/20363613231179541
Contents Declaration of conflicting interests Funding ORCID iDs Footnotes References PDF / ePub More Dear Editor, Glioblastoma is a malignant neoplasm of the central nervous system that arises from glial cells, primarily astrocyctes and is characterized by poorly differentiated, fusiform, round or pleomorphic astrocyctic cells with marked nuclear atypical and brisk mitotic activity.1 Despite advances in early diagnosis and comprehensive treatments, there is nearly 100% recurrence rate and dismal patient survival.2 According to researchers, more than 13,000 Americans are diagnosed with Glioblastoma annually, causing significant morbidity and mortality. There has been no cure for Glioblastoma so far.3 Treatment options often include surgical removal of the tumor followed by concomitant radiation and adjuvant temozolomide TMZ chemotherapy which has been the standard of care for glioblastoma since decades, but exposure to high doses of ionizing radiation is a well-known exogenous risk factor for glioblastoma. The inability to cross the BBB is the major obstacle in achieving remission after surgical resection followed by chemotherapy and radiation.4 As a result, glioblastoma typically recurs within six to 8 months and the survival rate is generally less than 5%.2 Despite the development of novel, complex, multidisciplinary, and targeted therapies the outcome for patients remains almost universally lethal.5 Therefore, the need for effective treatment is undeniable. For this reason, it has been a priority area in cancer research. Recently, US biotech company Northwest Biotherapeutics has developed a brain cancer vaccine, called DCVax, which is designed to help patients' immune system to target their tumors that may prolong their life by months or, in some cases, years.5 Thus, opening a door for the development of innovative therapy for targeting glioblastoma. The vaccine is created for each patient individually by isolating dendritic cells, from their blood which is then primed with biomarkers from a sample of the patient’s tumor.6 Dendritic cells present tumor antigens to the immune system, prime T cells, and mobilize antitumor responses.6 To evaluate the safety of the vaccine and its impact on survival time in patients with Glioblastoma, a phase 3 randomized control trial was conducted.7 In this trial, 348 patients newly diagnosed with Glioblastoma were tested at King’s College Hospital and other centers around the world for 8 years.7 Patients had surgery to remove their tumors as much as possible, followed by radiation and chemotherapy as the standard treatment for Glioblastoma.7 Among these patients, two out of three were treated with the vaccine, DCVax-L, with the remaining one-third receiving a placebo.7 The astonishing result of the trial has shown that newly diagnosed patients who received the vaccine survived for 19.3 months compared to 16.5 months for those who received a placebo.8 Overall 13% of all trial participants treated with DCVax lived more than 5 years after diagnosis compared with 5.7% in the comparison group who did so.8 Moreover, this is the first time in 17 years that such a significant result has been achieved in a Phase 3 trial of a systemic treatment for newly diagnosed Glioblastoma, and it’s the first treatment in 27 years for patients with GBM recurrence.9 Thus, this development represents a major step forward in our efforts to combat this devastating disease. Based on the findings of the trials evaluating the drug’s efficacy, it has the potential to improve the quality of life for patients, especially for the elderly and those unable to have surgery. A global clinical trial has concluded that the DCVax is the world’s first vaccine to treat deadly cancerous brain tumors that could help patients to live for years.9 This breakthrough could benefit 2500 people a year in the UK being diagnosed with Glioblastoma.9 It has also been shown that this therapy can be used to treat cancers other than Glioblastoma.9 However, due to high recurrence rate and lethal outcomes, the treatment of gliblastoma has seen significant transformation, switching from an aggressive surgical strategy to a more cautious one. The endorsement of the vaccine is a commendable achievement, and it demonstrates the unwavering commitment of researchers and healthcare professionals to discovering effective treatments for such lethal disease. Furthermore, vaccine may enhance the quality of life of a patient and provides a new hope for patients and their families Thus, it is crucial that we continue to support research into Glioblastoma and the development of novel treatments so that we can envision a future where this disease is eradicated. Declaration of conflicting interests The author(s) declared no potential conflicts of interest with respect to the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article. Funding The author(s) received no financial support for the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article. ORCID iDs Areeba Fareed https://orcid.org/0000-0001-5906-9852 Samia Rohail https://orcid.org/0000-0003-1488-0080 Alishba Adnan https://orcid.org/0000-0003-1238-6687 Abdul Moiz Khan https://orcid.org/0000-0001-9796-8867 Footnotes Author’s noteNot commissioned, externally peer reviewed. ContributorshipAreeba Fareed and Samia Rohail wrote the draft. Alishba Adnan and Abdul Moiz Khan proofread it. All authors reviewed and edited the manuscript and approved the final version of the manuscript. Data availabilityNo new dataset generated. References 1. Aans.org. Available from: https://www.aans.org/Patients/Neurosurgical-Conditions-and-Treatments/Glioblastoma-Multiforme%5d (cited 9 April 2023). GO TO REFERENCE Google Scholar 2. Liau LM, Ashkan K, Brem S, et al. Association of autologous tumor lysate-loaded dendritic cell vaccination with extension of survival among patients with newly diagnosed and recurrent glioblastoma: a phase 3 prospective externally controlled cohort trial: a phase 3 prospective externally controlled cohort trial. JAMA Oncol 2023; 9(1): 112–121. Available from: https://jamanetwork.com/journals/jamaoncology/fullarticle/2798847 (cited 9 April 2023).
PubMed Google Scholar 3. Pelc C. Experimental cancer vaccine both treats and prevents brain cancer in mice [Internet]. East Sussex, UK: Medical News Today, 2023. Available from: https://www.medicalnewstoday.com/articles/experimental-cancer-vaccine-both-treats-and-prevents-brain-cancer-in-mice (cited 9 April 2023). GO TO REFERENCE Google Scholar 4. Rong L, Li N, Zhang Z. Emerging therapies for glioblastoma: current state and future directions. J Exp Clin Cancer Res 2022; 41(1): 142. (cited 9 April 2023). GO TO REFERENCE Crossref PubMed Google Scholar 5. Aldape K, Brindle KM, Chesler L, et al. Challenges to curing primary brain tumours. Nat Rev Clin Oncol 2019; 16(8): 509–520. Available from: https://www.nature.com/articles/s41571-019-0177-5 (cited 9 April 2023).
Crossref PubMed Google Scholar 6. Technology Networks. Brain cancer vaccine shown to extend patient survival [Internet]. Sudbury, UK: Technology Networks, 2022. Available from: https://www.technologynetworks.com/vaccines/news/brain-cancer-vaccine-shown-to-extend-patient-survival-367721 (cited 9 April 2023).
Google Scholar 7. Clinicaltrials.gov. Study of a drug [DCVax®-L] to treat newly diagnosed GBM brain cancer - full text view - Clinicaltrials.gov [internet]. Bethesda, MD: Clinicaltrials.gov, 2023. Available from: https://clinicaltrials.gov/ct2/show/NCT00045968 (cited 9 April 2023).
Google Scholar 8. Campbell D. Vaccine shown to prolong life of patients with aggressive brain cancer. London, UK: The guardian [Internet], 2022. Available from: https://www.theguardian.com/science/2022/nov/17/vaccine-shown-to-prolong-life-patients-aggressive-brain-cancer-trial-glioblastoma (cited 9 April 2023).
Google Scholar 9. Delgado-Martín B, Medina MÁ. Advances in the knowledge of the molecular biology of glioblastoma and its impact in patient diagnosis, stratification, and treatment. Adv Sci 2020; 7(9): 1902971.
Crossref Google Scholar📷 0 Share Reply/Post Keep Last Read More Next 10 Prev NextNWBONorthwest Biotherapeutics Inc (QB)0.615 0.011 (1.82%)Volume:1,013,957Day Range:0.6011 - 0.62Bid:0.61Ask:0.615Last Trade Time:3:59:10 PM EDTTotal Trades:378
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submitted by jhpratt2 to NWBO [link] [comments]
With 50% of LIAU-SPORE-UCLA combo patents living 10 years, DC VAX L has turned SOC's GBM treatment from a terminal (16.5) months disease into a chronic treatable malignancy .
Dr. Greg Zivic:
"This treatment can turn a Glioblastoma into a chronic treatable disease even after recurrence of the tumor . "
https://nwbio.com/northwest-biotherapeutics-and-advent-bioservices-announce-receipt-of-license-for-commercial-manufacturing-at-sawston-u-k-facility/
https://twitter.com/AllenTurner206/status/1636426400382205952
https://investorshub.advfn.com/boards/read_msg.aspx?message_id=171479167
Monday, May 29, 2023 9:13:34 AM
Post# 596739 of 596755 4 Pakistani neurosurgeons endorsing the JAMA Liau dc vax l phase 3 study. Will the RA in Pakistan facilitate their patients' resected GBM tumors and lysate being sent to Sawston , with syringes of dc vax l sent back to Pakistan?
https://jamanetwork.com/journals/jamaoncology/fullarticle/2798847
https://journals.sagepub.com/doi/10.1177/20363613231179541
https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/36591625/
IMO,BB's consultant is a "legend ", as alleged.Therefore, I recommend reading every on of his posts, word for word.
Bright Boy Brian F Egolf Sr M: Bright Boy
Re: ae kusterer post# 593171
Sunday, May 14, 2023 2:22:21 PM
Post# 593185 of 593185 I am definitely not a biotech expert and what I've learned about Northwest and DCVax-l was shared with me by one of the legends in the biotech world !!! My biggest takeaway is this:
From 2018 forward, it became apparent that DCVax-L was a breakthrough, technological process for the treatment of nGBM and rGBM, but its true potential was only known by a "handful" of experts, and as such, the understanding of the broader market implications was a relative unknown. Early on, several of the comments that I heard from BP were," The GBM market is really not that big!" and " Personalized, Immunotherapy vaccines are not really in our 'Wheelhouse'. We sell compounds/pills!!" On and on! The comments didn't mean that BP wasn't paying attention! Quite the contrary, BP was watching like a hawk as results from Dr. Liau and the UCLA trials began to leak into the medical community suggesting a broader application of DCVax-L on a "stand alone" basis and in combination with CI's for all large tumor cancers ( mentioned in the latest 10Q for future trials), thus dramatically expanding market potentials!!! But the "Big Moment" occurred in late October of last year when the STADIUM LIGHTS turned on, shining bright lights on the latest nGBM/rGBM ,Dr. Liau trial data suggesting 50%to 65% OS for 8 years with emphasis on rGBM !!! That was the point in time when BP and the entire biotech world realized that GBM/rGBM would be treated and managed as a CHRONIC DISEASE!!! with unlimited PROMISE and HOPE for patients and unlimited marketing potential to finance existing vaccine production and the continuing development for improved treatments for all diseases!!!!!
So that's what I learned and that's my story and I'm stickin to it!!!!
Cheers especially to all the Mom's and to everyone !!!
BB
Joseph H.Pratt: https://investorshub.advfn.com/boards/read_msg.aspx?message_id=172010930
Bright Boy Re: None Saturday, March 18, 2023 12:38:55 PM Post# of 596750 Go People, People, People !!!!
The light switch just turned on for me !!! I'm not a doctor or scientist or a STEM concentration "rock star", but if I read something over and over again several times and look carefully at the pictures SOMETIMES, NOT ALL THE TIME, a major mental breakthrough occurs and I believe that I've discovered something very profound!!
In this case, I believe the main message from the slide deck is that DCVax-L, either by itself or in combination with CI's has turned the whole thing around for treating nGBM/rGBM from having to kill the tumor to a "management process" !! It looks like now with this new information, that GBM patients can receive vaccinations as needed with "Zero" side effects and live a long and happy life !!! A comment from a medical expert that DOES KNOW !!!:
Dr. Greg Zivic:
This treatment can turn a Glioblastoma into a chronic treatable disease even after recurrence of the tumor.
So help me out here. Does the above reasoning seem logical based on the slides all of us have just reviewed?? If it does or is, then little Team Northwest has just changed the healthcare landscape forever in the way that we treat disease!!!!!
Am I way off base or are all of onto to something that is fabulous beyond belief???
Cheers,
BB
Bright Boy Re: thermopost# 591947 Tuesday, May 09, 2023 8:41:30 PM Post# of 596749 Go The UK is determined to be the world carrousel for use of immunotherapy vaccines to treat cancers and all forms of disease!!! From my friends in the UK, my use of the word "determined" grossly understates the effort behind the "Grand Plan"!!
So far, the MHRA has not only accepted and approved the MIA application (manufacturing license), but voluntarily offered the expansion to a GLOBAL MANUFACTURING" license allowing for the import of live cells and the export of vaccines to the far corners of the earth!!! People!!! That is huge!!!!! BUT as always 99.99% of the retail investors don't understand the significance of that license or anything else about the process and look to the screen to validate the importance/value of the license, where they are greeted by Citadel and Virtu and the rest of the gang that manipulate the price to new lows, confirming that, in spite of everything they just read from the greatest medical minds in the universe, is a bunch of crap!!!!
Fortunately for the cancer patients and shareholders of Northwest, the MHRA does not include in their decision making process the current SP of NWBO or the opinion of the "gutter filth" that manage those companies or any other companies that participate in the ordered destruction of small biotechs that are engaged in the development of immunotherapy vaccines!! So, it's on to the filing of the MAA (marketing license), the approval and the decisions that will guarantee swift treatment deliveries to patients!!
So Griffin and Cifu and Fuerstein and the rest can lie all they want , but the GREAT UNITED KINGDOM will not be denied the ultimate crown of being the WORLD CENTER for CANCER TREATMENT !!!!!
Cheers,
BB
Bright Boy Re: hoffmann6383post# 578889 Tuesday, March 21, 2023 1:55:12 PM Post# of 596749 Go People, People, People!!! It's your friendly "hillbilly" here with some more great news!! Don't know if I can "one up" my earlier post about the "Dog eating the license", but I'll try. So here we go!!
I don't think everyone realizes how dynamic and important the manufacturing license really is so I'll take a shot at giving you my take on it. First of all, the marketing approval (MAA) and the government subsidy approval(NICE) are pretty much in the bag before the manufacturing team gets the "green light" to proceed. The MAA and NICE teams talk to the MIA team and say," This stuff looks really cool and we wanted to let you know before you run off and do a lot of work on something that we won't approve when you're finished!!" Okay! So that's the first part.
Now for the second part and this is the part that involves a lot of money so read very carefully!!! The MIA license allows for global export of the vaccines and global import of immune cells/tumor resected material. Anyone in the entire world that is diagnosed with GBM can NOW ship their tumor samples to Northwest/Advent/Sawston to have their personal vaccine made and stored, all to be shipped back to the patient/doctor on a prescribed injection schedule. The beauty of this process is that patients everywhere can NOW receive their vaccine on a compassionate care basis. No more waiting!! No more opportunities for the "dark forces" to delay or deny suffering cancer patients their desperately needed treatments !!!
People, as of yesterday, Northwest is now IN BUSINESS !!!! AND that opens the door for institutional investors and an uplist to the New York or Nasdaq exchanges!!!!
All of the above is as good as that first sip of ice cold buttermilk on a hot summer day!!!! AND for those unfortunate shorts and haters it adds a whole new description to the letters FTD and I'll let you guess what that might be!!!
Cheers,
BB
Bright Boy Re: None Tuesday, March 21, 2023 9:05:54 PM Post# of 596749 Go The MIA allows for "International Immune Cell Imports" and "International Vaccine Exports" !!! That is big news and a big, big market and should access every cancer patient in need!!!!
Cheers,
BB
ae kusterer
Re: None
Monday, May 29, 2023 9:13:34 AM
Post# 596739 of 596755 4 Pakistani neurosurgeons endorsing the JAMA Liau dc vax l phase 3 study. Will the RA in Pakistan facilitate their patients' resected GBM tumors and lysate being sent to Sawston , with syringes of dc vax l sent back to Pakistan?
https://jamanetwork.com/journals/jamaoncology/fullarticle/2798847
https://journals.sagepub.com/doi/10.1177/20363613231179541
https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/36591625/
Abstract Objective: To define the landscape of treatment patterns and current epidemiological data regarding gliomas in Pakistan.
Methods: As part of the Pakistan Brain Tumour Epidemiology Study (PBTES), data were collected from 32 neurosurgical centres across the country. Our retrospective study looked at patients who underwent surgical procedures for gliomas in 2019 in neurosurgical centres. The data was collated and analysed using STATA version 15.
Results: A total of 781 patients with gliomas were identified 479(61.8%) in public sector hospitals, 302(39.1%) in the private sector). The most common histopathological subtypes were glioblastoma 262 (33.5%), followed by astrocytoma 147(18.8%) and oligodendroglioma 93(11.9%). Gender distribution was skewed towards men 508(65%). Private institution hospitals performed surgical biopsies as the first surgical procedure 75(23%) more often than public hospitals 38(9%). Chemotherapy was given to 115(29.8%) patients, and there was no data regarding 467(53%) of patients. Similarly, only 202(43.9%) patients received radiation therapy, and there was no data for 469(60%) of patients. For high-grade gliomas specifically, only 95(31.8%) patients with HGG have a record of receiving radiation therapy, and only 57(18.9%) had a record of being started on chemotherapy.
DCvax: A promising advancement in oncology for the treatment of glioblastoma Areeba Fareed https://orcid.org/0000-0001-5906-9852 [email protected], Samia Rohail https://orcid.org/0000-0003-1488-0080, […], and Abdul Moiz Khan https://orcid.org/0000-0001-9796-8867+1View all authors and affiliations All Articles https://doi.org/10.1177/20363613231179541
Contents Declaration of conflicting interests Funding ORCID iDs Footnotes References PDF / ePub More Dear Editor, Glioblastoma is a malignant neoplasm of the central nervous system that arises from glial cells, primarily astrocyctes and is characterized by poorly differentiated, fusiform, round or pleomorphic astrocyctic cells with marked nuclear atypical and brisk mitotic activity.1 Despite advances in early diagnosis and comprehensive treatments, there is nearly 100% recurrence rate and dismal patient survival.2 According to researchers, more than 13,000 Americans are diagnosed with Glioblastoma annually, causing significant morbidity and mortality. There has been no cure for Glioblastoma so far.3 Treatment options often include surgical removal of the tumor followed by concomitant radiation and adjuvant temozolomide TMZ chemotherapy which has been the standard of care for glioblastoma since decades, but exposure to high doses of ionizing radiation is a well-known exogenous risk factor for glioblastoma. The inability to cross the BBB is the major obstacle in achieving remission after surgical resection followed by chemotherapy and radiation.4 As a result, glioblastoma typically recurs within six to 8 months and the survival rate is generally less than 5%.2 Despite the development of novel, complex, multidisciplinary, and targeted therapies the outcome for patients remains almost universally lethal.5 Therefore, the need for effective treatment is undeniable. For this reason, it has been a priority area in cancer research. Recently, US biotech company Northwest Biotherapeutics has developed a brain cancer vaccine, called DCVax, which is designed to help patients' immune system to target their tumors that may prolong their life by months or, in some cases, years.5 Thus, opening a door for the development of innovative therapy for targeting glioblastoma. The vaccine is created for each patient individually by isolating dendritic cells, from their blood which is then primed with biomarkers from a sample of the patient’s tumor.6 Dendritic cells present tumor antigens to the immune system, prime T cells, and mobilize antitumor responses.6 To evaluate the safety of the vaccine and its impact on survival time in patients with Glioblastoma, a phase 3 randomized control trial was conducted.7 In this trial, 348 patients newly diagnosed with Glioblastoma were tested at King’s College Hospital and other centers around the world for 8 years.7 Patients had surgery to remove their tumors as much as possible, followed by radiation and chemotherapy as the standard treatment for Glioblastoma.7 Among these patients, two out of three were treated with the vaccine, DCVax-L, with the remaining one-third receiving a placebo.7 The astonishing result of the trial has shown that newly diagnosed patients who received the vaccine survived for 19.3 months compared to 16.5 months for those who received a placebo.8 Overall 13% of all trial participants treated with DCVax lived more than 5 years after diagnosis compared with 5.7% in the comparison group who did so.8 Moreover, this is the first time in 17 years that such a significant result has been achieved in a Phase 3 trial of a systemic treatment for newly diagnosed Glioblastoma, and it’s the first treatment in 27 years for patients with GBM recurrence.9 Thus, this development represents a major step forward in our efforts to combat this devastating disease. Based on the findings of the trials evaluating the drug’s efficacy, it has the potential to improve the quality of life for patients, especially for the elderly and those unable to have surgery. A global clinical trial has concluded that the DCVax is the world’s first vaccine to treat deadly cancerous brain tumors that could help patients to live for years.9 This breakthrough could benefit 2500 people a year in the UK being diagnosed with Glioblastoma.9 It has also been shown that this therapy can be used to treat cancers other than Glioblastoma.9 However, due to high recurrence rate and lethal outcomes, the treatment of gliblastoma has seen significant transformation, switching from an aggressive surgical strategy to a more cautious one. The endorsement of the vaccine is a commendable achievement, and it demonstrates the unwavering commitment of researchers and healthcare professionals to discovering effective treatments for such lethal disease. Furthermore, vaccine may enhance the quality of life of a patient and provides a new hope for patients and their families Thus, it is crucial that we continue to support research into Glioblastoma and the development of novel treatments so that we can envision a future where this disease is eradicated. Declaration of conflicting interests The author(s) declared no potential conflicts of interest with respect to the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article. Funding The author(s) received no financial support for the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article. ORCID iDs Areeba Fareed https://orcid.org/0000-0001-5906-9852 Samia Rohail https://orcid.org/0000-0003-1488-0080 Alishba Adnan https://orcid.org/0000-0003-1238-6687 Abdul Moiz Khan https://orcid.org/0000-0001-9796-8867 Footnotes Author’s noteNot commissioned, externally peer reviewed. ContributorshipAreeba Fareed and Samia Rohail wrote the draft. Alishba Adnan and Abdul Moiz Khan proofread it. All authors reviewed and edited the manuscript and approved the final version of the manuscript. Data availabilityNo new dataset generated. References 1. Aans.org. Available from: https://www.aans.org/Patients/Neurosurgical-Conditions-and-Treatments/Glioblastoma-Multiforme%5d (cited 9 April 2023). GO TO REFERENCE Google Scholar 2. Liau LM, Ashkan K, Brem S, et al. Association of autologous tumor lysate-loaded dendritic cell vaccination with extension of survival among patients with newly diagnosed and recurrent glioblastoma: a phase 3 prospective externally controlled cohort trial: a phase 3 prospective externally controlled cohort trial. JAMA Oncol 2023; 9(1): 112–121. Available from: https://jamanetwork.com/journals/jamaoncology/fullarticle/2798847 (cited 9 April 2023).
PubMed Google Scholar 3. Pelc C. Experimental cancer vaccine both treats and prevents brain cancer in mice [Internet]. East Sussex, UK: Medical News Today, 2023. Available from: https://www.medicalnewstoday.com/articles/experimental-cancer-vaccine-both-treats-and-prevents-brain-cancer-in-mice (cited 9 April 2023). GO TO REFERENCE Google Scholar 4. Rong L, Li N, Zhang Z. Emerging therapies for glioblastoma: current state and future directions. J Exp Clin Cancer Res 2022; 41(1): 142. (cited 9 April 2023). GO TO REFERENCE Crossref PubMed Google Scholar 5. Aldape K, Brindle KM, Chesler L, et al. Challenges to curing primary brain tumours. Nat Rev Clin Oncol 2019; 16(8): 509–520. Available from: https://www.nature.com/articles/s41571-019-0177-5 (cited 9 April 2023).
Crossref PubMed Google Scholar 6. Technology Networks. Brain cancer vaccine shown to extend patient survival [Internet]. Sudbury, UK: Technology Networks, 2022. Available from: https://www.technologynetworks.com/vaccines/news/brain-cancer-vaccine-shown-to-extend-patient-survival-367721 (cited 9 April 2023).
Google Scholar 7. Clinicaltrials.gov. Study of a drug [DCVax®-L] to treat newly diagnosed GBM brain cancer - full text view - Clinicaltrials.gov [internet]. Bethesda, MD: Clinicaltrials.gov, 2023. Available from: https://clinicaltrials.gov/ct2/show/NCT00045968 (cited 9 April 2023).
Google Scholar 8. Campbell D. Vaccine shown to prolong life of patients with aggressive brain cancer. London, UK: The guardian [Internet], 2022. Available from: https://www.theguardian.com/science/2022/nov/17/vaccine-shown-to-prolong-life-patients-aggressive-brain-cancer-trial-glioblastoma (cited 9 April 2023).
Google Scholar 9. Delgado-Martín B, Medina MÁ. Advances in the knowledge of the molecular biology of glioblastoma and its impact in patient diagnosis, stratification, and treatment. Adv Sci 2020; 7(9): 1902971.
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2023.05.29 17:39 vParadox_77 The Definitive Best Armor in KCD
 | There is much debate in this sub on the "best" suit of armor that can exist in this game. Some people favor stealth, some favor defense, and some even favor charisma. This post is an attempt to answer this age-old question of what the best suit of armor in KCD really is. Christ be praised. submitted by vParadox_77 to kingdomcome [link] [comments] First, we need to decide what defines the "best" suit of armor. The first and primary stat that is most crucial is the defense ratings of the armor. This stat has to triumph over all others because the protection of the body is what armor is really all about. The 2nd stat to be considered is Charisma, because, as we already know, the top-tier plate armor already has bad stealth stats, so it is pointless to prioritize stealth. After charisma, we will prioritize the stealth stats visibility and conspicuousness (they go hand in hand) and finally we will prioritize durability. All of the top armor will already have great durability, so there is no need to pick and choose on this stat, besides, it doesn't change the effectiveness of the armor. Finally, if two pieces have the same stats, the rarer of the two will be chosen. So in total, this is the stat prioritization:
Now we may assemble the noblest of armors. I will show everything you need to know about the item including links to the KCD wiki for it so you may learn how to unlock it. Henry Wearing the Suit of Armor HELMET- Name: House of Zoul helmet Item Code: 4f27f774-be02-ea89-51d6-ad7ac35587a2 Why: This helmet has the best protection stats in the game. Link: https://kingdom-come-deliverance.fandom.com/wiki/House_of_Zoul_helmet COIF- Name: Dark padded coif Item Code: 4dcb6884-0be0-ca1b-32e6-e20ccbc58c8f Why: This coif is tied for the best protection stats with the beige variant of the padded coif. They both also have the same charisma stat. However, the dark padded coif has better stealth stats than its beige counterpart. Link: https://kingdom-come-deliverance.fandom.com/wiki/Dark_padded_coif HEAD CHAINMAIL- Name: Noble's mail coif Item Code: 4fbc8b16-6e58-af4e-8b95-59963da5ef96 Why: This head chainmail has the best protection stats in the game. Link: https://kingdom-come-deliverance.fandom.com/wiki/Noble%27s_mail_coif NECK CHAIN- Name: Gold Chain Item Code: 0bf732db-ca19-4f0b-a56f-c83a79806d8f Why: Neck chains do not provide protection and the gold chain is tied with the necklace for the highest charisma from the neck chain slot. However, the gold chain is considerably rarer to come by than the necklace, so the gold chain is chosen. Link: https://kingdom-come-deliverance.fandom.com/wiki/Gold_chain OUTER GARMENT- Name: Quartered combat jacket Item Code: 4e1c3929-0e6d-e0c2-61e0-363f8e7ac289 Why: This outer garment is tied for the best protection stats in the game while having the highest charisma from its counterparts. Link: https://kingdom-come-deliverance.fandom.com/wiki/Quartered_combat_jacket BODY PLATE- Name: House of Zoul cuirass Item Code: 4484294f-244c-3701-8ede-f7a0d10ffbb5 Why: This body plate has the best protection stats in the game. Link: https://kingdom-come-deliverance.fandom.com/wiki/House_of_Zoul_cuirass BODY CHAINMAIL- Name: Long noble hauberk Item Code: 431a2a36-312d-d6b0-ddff-fcaddc294291 Why: The long noble hauberk is tied with the short noble hauberk for the highest protection stats in the game. However, the long noble hauberk is considerably rarer than its short counterpart so it is chosen over it. Link: https://kingdom-come-deliverance.fandom.com/wiki/Long_noble_hauberk BODY GARMENT- Name: Decorated arming doublet (Pale Yellow) Item Code: 4e392593-3a86-318b-65bc-05907a52fe8a Why: There are 6 decorated arming doublets in the game all tied for the best protection stats in the body garment slot. Two of the decorated arming doublets have higher charisma than the rest and one of these two has slightly better stealth stats than its counterpart. Therefore, the Pale Yellow variation of the decorated arming doublet is chosen. Link: https://kingdom-come-deliverance.fandom.com/wiki/Decorated_arming_doublet GLOVES- Name: Nobleman's gauntlets Item Code: 46f0f01a-ec0e-82af-8947-fc15bcf1df82 Why: These gauntlets have the best protection stats in the game. Link: https://kingdom-come-deliverance.fandom.com/wiki/Nobleman%27s_gauntlets ARM ARMOR- Name: Zoul arm plate Item Code: 44d0c3fa-67f0-9c6f-8c87-b0fc7d8b87a6 Why: This arm plate has the best protection stats in the game. Link: https://kingdom-come-deliverance.fandom.com/wiki/Zoul_arm_plate LEG CHAINMAIL- Name: Mail chausses Item Code: 44135951-cf1c-f2fd-15f0-0f0ea223a584 Why: This leg chainmail has the best protection stats in the game. Link: https://kingdom-come-deliverance.fandom.com/wiki/Mail_chausses HOSE- Name: Decorated black hose Item Code: 486fb98b-9cbe-79dd-314a-ac379dfc96b3 Why: This hose is tied with all of the other hoses in the game for protection stats. It is also tied for the highest charisma with the red-white miparti hose. The decorated black hose has far superior stealth stats, however, so it is chosen. Link: https://kingdom-come-deliverance.fandom.com/wiki/Decorated_black_hose LEG PLATE- Name: Zoul leg plate Item Code: 45f77d27-651f-8569-0b73-5617444c269d Why: This leg plate has the highest protection stats in the game. Link: https://kingdom-come-deliverance.fandom.com/wiki/Zoul_leg_plate BOOTS- This slot is taken up by the Zoul leg plate, which means that the stats from the Zoul leg plate also apply to the boot slot. Essentially, since the listed stab defense on the Zoul leg plate is 21, this stat gets applied to the leg plate slot and the boots slot, adding a total of 42 stab defense. RING- Name: Family ring Item Code: 88e2cfca-1f87-40f6-9691-4406676d702c Why: This ring, like all rings, doesn't provide protection stats but it does have the best charisma and durability. Link: https://kingdom-come-deliverance.fandom.com/wiki/Family_ring SPURS- Name: Golden spurs Item Code: af6f2946-ce54-4e38-9b2b-5ab95d5c4777 Why: Spurs do not provide protection, but these spurs have the highest charisma. Link: https://kingdom-come-deliverance.fandom.com/wiki/Golden_spurs Final Stats of the Armor And there we have it! The best suit of armor in the game. The final value of the armor is 21634.1 Groshen. I have also attached pictures of Henry wearing the suit of armor and the final stats of this suit as well. I hope this post goes a long way to finally settling the debate on the best possible suit of armor. Make sure you guys turn up in this suit of armor when you show up to demolish black peter. Christ be praised! |
2023.05.29 17:38 chickenpotpioneer Succession of genes and a case for Logan crossing out, not underlining
Sorry for the length.
The mark of a good finale is revealing a new piece of information that shines new light on the same story and reveals character motivations that were hidden beneath the surface the whole time. I think we got that with the finale last night. I think so much emphasis was placed on Logan's corporate Succession plan through this series that we didn't realize how important Logan's genetic "succession" weighed on his mind and colored the narrative between the lines.
First off, all the kids achieve complete self awareness here at the end. Kendall keeps firing off lines that cut so close to the truth it feels like the audience POV:
"Maybe that is why you're better adjusted and I'm just a fake business pyscho"
"I'm a specific cog that only fits in this one machine"
"If you don't let me do this I might be dead"
Roman reaches full self awareness too -- not only is he bullshit and was never a proper candidate, but Kendall probably wasn't either. And honestly, Logan was right about the three of them not being serious people. Logan may not have gave off "deep longing to be a grandpa" vibes, but I think Roman saw that it WAS a big deal and that is why he calls it out right at this crucial moment. The subtext is a lot to unpack. Logan, a "good old boy", has a bi-racial adopted granddaughter and a grandson born through invitro that doesn't share his genes. He puts his hands on Iverson. He has that odd "fake poison" dinner gag with him. Deep down, he closed the door on the thought of Kendall carrying on his genetic legacy. Another reason why Tom has so much good will and leverage in his eyes -- he is his key to protecting the "Roy" legacy.
I think there is a case to be made that Logan crossed out Ken's name when he fully threw his lot behind Tom. It even tracks with him adding "Greg?" at the same time as the cross-off, if you view his decisions through that lens, Greg being the only other player with blood relation to Logan. Also recall the background plot of Logan trying to eat foods that boosted his sperm count so he could make a baby with Kerri. This WAS important to Logan, it was just never made that explicit.
Shiv knew that by keeping the baby, she would effectively be delivering her father the "real" grandbaby he expected, and this is why her story is just as much a tragedy as Kendall's. She is confused about being a mother, yet at least she knows she has this new bargaining chip that will give her leverage with her father, the fantasy she mentions to Tom of "grandpa bouncing his grandchild on his knee", but he dies right before making that a reality.
It explains Logan's divorce lawyer advice to Tom as well -- Logan did not want them to split. He wanted them to stay together, and have his grandchild, and keep Tom around as his pain sponge. The irony is that Matsson has carved out his own "Loganesqe" corner of this world and will now keep the abusive cycle between Shiv and Tom alive in this next chapter without Logan around. It adds context to Kendall's feelings of intensely disappointing his father, and his own conflicted feelings about not genuinely feeling a love and connection for his kids, but trying to pretend he does. It all goes back to Logan's existential dread at not securing a proper Succession of his lineage. In the end, I think he gives up on it in a way at the beginning of S4 -- and that is when he waxes poetic to Colin about life and death, and pivots to his "rebuild ATN like pirates" mindset. If his idiot kids can't protect his legacy, he'll go down with ship himself.
This is the full context we needed to understand this warped sibling dynamic living in the shadow of their father. Logan would make jokes about Kendall's kids "not being serious grandchildren" when he wasn't around. Shiv knows this well and even tries to stop Roman from going there because it hits a nerve. In the end, Shiv can't give her brother the win, whether to spite him or protect her own future, we can't say for sure. But what is apparent is that she falls in line to accept her place in the world her father would have preferred for her - carrying his grandchild and empowering Tom to keep the good family name alive. Kendall knows this, Roman knows this, they all know this. The air has been cleared.
Roman is free, Shiv is anything but free (by her own choosing), and Kendall is stuck being followed around by his father's best friend, paying him to hover over his shoulder as a testament that his Logan was in fact capable of genuine connections, just not with him. A constant reminder of his past sins and his father's disappointment - a hired grim reaper of grief and shame.
submitted by chickenpotpioneer to SuccessionTV [link] [comments]
The mark of a good finale is revealing a new piece of information that shines new light on the same story and reveals character motivations that were hidden beneath the surface the whole time. I think we got that with the finale last night. I think so much emphasis was placed on Logan's corporate Succession plan through this series that we didn't realize how important Logan's genetic "succession" weighed on his mind and colored the narrative between the lines.
First off, all the kids achieve complete self awareness here at the end. Kendall keeps firing off lines that cut so close to the truth it feels like the audience POV:
"Maybe that is why you're better adjusted and I'm just a fake business pyscho"
"I'm a specific cog that only fits in this one machine"
"If you don't let me do this I might be dead"
Roman reaches full self awareness too -- not only is he bullshit and was never a proper candidate, but Kendall probably wasn't either. And honestly, Logan was right about the three of them not being serious people. Logan may not have gave off "deep longing to be a grandpa" vibes, but I think Roman saw that it WAS a big deal and that is why he calls it out right at this crucial moment. The subtext is a lot to unpack. Logan, a "good old boy", has a bi-racial adopted granddaughter and a grandson born through invitro that doesn't share his genes. He puts his hands on Iverson. He has that odd "fake poison" dinner gag with him. Deep down, he closed the door on the thought of Kendall carrying on his genetic legacy. Another reason why Tom has so much good will and leverage in his eyes -- he is his key to protecting the "Roy" legacy.
I think there is a case to be made that Logan crossed out Ken's name when he fully threw his lot behind Tom. It even tracks with him adding "Greg?" at the same time as the cross-off, if you view his decisions through that lens, Greg being the only other player with blood relation to Logan. Also recall the background plot of Logan trying to eat foods that boosted his sperm count so he could make a baby with Kerri. This WAS important to Logan, it was just never made that explicit.
Shiv knew that by keeping the baby, she would effectively be delivering her father the "real" grandbaby he expected, and this is why her story is just as much a tragedy as Kendall's. She is confused about being a mother, yet at least she knows she has this new bargaining chip that will give her leverage with her father, the fantasy she mentions to Tom of "grandpa bouncing his grandchild on his knee", but he dies right before making that a reality.
It explains Logan's divorce lawyer advice to Tom as well -- Logan did not want them to split. He wanted them to stay together, and have his grandchild, and keep Tom around as his pain sponge. The irony is that Matsson has carved out his own "Loganesqe" corner of this world and will now keep the abusive cycle between Shiv and Tom alive in this next chapter without Logan around. It adds context to Kendall's feelings of intensely disappointing his father, and his own conflicted feelings about not genuinely feeling a love and connection for his kids, but trying to pretend he does. It all goes back to Logan's existential dread at not securing a proper Succession of his lineage. In the end, I think he gives up on it in a way at the beginning of S4 -- and that is when he waxes poetic to Colin about life and death, and pivots to his "rebuild ATN like pirates" mindset. If his idiot kids can't protect his legacy, he'll go down with ship himself.
This is the full context we needed to understand this warped sibling dynamic living in the shadow of their father. Logan would make jokes about Kendall's kids "not being serious grandchildren" when he wasn't around. Shiv knows this well and even tries to stop Roman from going there because it hits a nerve. In the end, Shiv can't give her brother the win, whether to spite him or protect her own future, we can't say for sure. But what is apparent is that she falls in line to accept her place in the world her father would have preferred for her - carrying his grandchild and empowering Tom to keep the good family name alive. Kendall knows this, Roman knows this, they all know this. The air has been cleared.
Roman is free, Shiv is anything but free (by her own choosing), and Kendall is stuck being followed around by his father's best friend, paying him to hover over his shoulder as a testament that his Logan was in fact capable of genuine connections, just not with him. A constant reminder of his past sins and his father's disappointment - a hired grim reaper of grief and shame.
2023.05.29 17:37 chongjunxiang3002 [Doom post ahead] Re: Depreciation of Ringgit
This thread is not about whose fault for ringgit depreciation right now.
A currency flow is a complicated manner that no government nor central bank dare to play with, so all can they do is small adjustment on OPR. Any big change will be a daring bet, a jackpot or a tsunami for entire economy system, so we won't likely see them pegging the currency again (that may hurt exporting industry), nor further increase interest rate (that make borrowing harder).
There was a reason why ringgit leave currency union of Brunei and Singapore in 1975, as that was the time country many attempt to adjust themselves from agricultural base economy to heavy industry export economy, so the free market do the job. The pegging of 1998 was performing to storm through the crisis that we did fine/not fine. You can all laugh 3:1 or very soon 10:1, but that is how free market work, and we are in disadvantage position.
However, they might be a point of no return for currency depreciation. Once a undeterminable threshold is crossed, there will be no more investor believe in ringgit. And soon it will be just downfall like waterfall. After the event horizon, the currency can only go down, there is no more measure that can resuscitation (even harsh market manipulation can only turns thing worse).
Might as well just become Hungary forint in 1946, or your favourite laughing stock, Zimbabwe.
Just like Sri Lankan rupee depreciation of 2022, that slow boiling water just turning into steam jet once a trigger is push (4 Mac, 1LKR-0.0049USD vs 1LKR-0.0028USD, 6 May)
Also read on: https://www.imoney.my/articles/ringgit-peg-1998-malaysia
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submitted by chongjunxiang3002 to malaysia [link] [comments]
A currency flow is a complicated manner that no government nor central bank dare to play with, so all can they do is small adjustment on OPR. Any big change will be a daring bet, a jackpot or a tsunami for entire economy system, so we won't likely see them pegging the currency again (that may hurt exporting industry), nor further increase interest rate (that make borrowing harder).
There was a reason why ringgit leave currency union of Brunei and Singapore in 1975, as that was the time country many attempt to adjust themselves from agricultural base economy to heavy industry export economy, so the free market do the job. The pegging of 1998 was performing to storm through the crisis that we did fine/not fine. You can all laugh 3:1 or very soon 10:1, but that is how free market work, and we are in disadvantage position.
However, they might be a point of no return for currency depreciation. Once a undeterminable threshold is crossed, there will be no more investor believe in ringgit. And soon it will be just downfall like waterfall. After the event horizon, the currency can only go down, there is no more measure that can resuscitation (even harsh market manipulation can only turns thing worse).
Might as well just become Hungary forint in 1946, or your favourite laughing stock, Zimbabwe.
Just like Sri Lankan rupee depreciation of 2022, that slow boiling water just turning into steam jet once a trigger is push (4 Mac, 1LKR-0.0049USD vs 1LKR-0.0028USD, 6 May)
Now, place a risk free bet here, are we crossing the event horizon already?
Additional discussion down in comment:- Should we stocking up assets instead of currency? Gold anyone?
- Are we going to see 1SGD=RM5 or RM10 before 2030?
I am asking this for my future, all my talented family members are now work at Singapore and somewhere else, leaving me the sole loser with poor skill set still staying here, with a certain foolish hope. Long $ROPE or believe in Falling Devil might be comforting choice for me if this is the case.
Also read on: https://www.imoney.my/articles/ringgit-peg-1998-malaysia
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2023.05.29 17:35 TheScribe_1 [The Book of the Chosen] - Chapter Eleven - The Room of Doors
Previous Chapter - Read 10 weeks ahead on Patreon - Read the story so far on Royal Road
*
Chapter Eleven - The Room of Doors
‘Get moving!’
Sara watched the men readying their horses, squinting at the brightness of the stone. The courtyard was full of the sound of boot-steps and creaking leather. Overhead, a thin veil of rippled grey hung over the early winter sky, and the dawn sun tugged gleaming at its edges. Overhead, the dull black shape of an old stormtower bled the sky. Empty, just like the rest of them. There was something very jarring, Sara decided, about the worn jerkins and stubbled cheeks of her father’s men, ensconced in a pillared courtyard of vast stone. They were out of place, and they had been every moment since arriving in Uldoroth, she realised. They didn’t belong here. Her own anxiety was mirrored imperfectly with the relief on their weary faces, and the dark rings under their eyes seemed just a little less deep. There may be Black Hand to deal with, back in the Westmere, but it was home. At least there your enemies had the decency to show themselves. Sara realised she was chewing her lip. At her back, two of the Black Guard waited wordlessly in their gold-touched armour, much more in keeping with the finery of the courtyard, and everything else in the capital. They were waiting to escort her away to the Queen, unaware they found a girl not so eager for the honour as she had been, just a few days before.
‘Father!’ She called out, spying him across the writhing mass of men in their moss green cloaks, but he seemed not to hear her. He was standing near the arched cloister at the far side of the square, cloaked and ready for travel, in hurried conversation with a shaded figure standing beyond the marble facade. She squinted, trying to make out the other man, but there was nothing but a dark shadow to trace.
‘Well then, M’lady.’ A voice said beside her, and she turned to find Halin looking down at her, a kind smile on his broad face. ‘You’ll be a right proper Princess when I next see you, methinks.’
Sara smiled at him and shook her head sheepishly. ‘Uldoroth is not my home, yet, Halin. I won’t forget.’
‘Be careful you don’t, Lady Sara.’ Halin glanced distrustfully at the Black Guard behind her. ‘Lots of fancy folk here. Fancy folk with fancier lies.’
‘I’ll be careful, Halin.’ She told him seriously.
He smiled again, and the sternness dissolved away from his face.
‘Take care, M’Lady.’ He told her, dipping his head politely. She returned the gesture, dropping into a small curtsy.
‘Look after my father, will you?’
‘Always, M’Lady.’
Halin hurried off into the throng in the square, and Sara watched him go, feeling her the knot in her belly tighten. The conversations with her unexpected visitors had left their mark, a nagging uncertainty gnawing at the excitement that had carried her through her first few uneventful days in the capital. The little comfort she had taken in the presence of her father and his men was a loss she could ill afford. She watched her father’s back, frowning softly to herself. Her thoughts were not what she had imagined, when she had thought of him leaving. A hundred different times, and more. Had she expected tears, grief at the parting? Relief? Instead, there was only the fear, a dull, leaden weight in her belly, clammy-cold as marsh-water.
‘Come on, you whoresons! I want to be on the road before lunch!’ Halin roared, and the men quickened their work. Her father had not moved, still deep in conversation, just out of sight. She peered a little closer, and for a moment the pale sunlight crept over the top of the square, flashing against a colourful doublet marked with a silver brooch. The Fox’s lips barely moved as he spoke from the shadows of the cloister, and her father was scowling. Sara frowned.
‘Mount up!’
The ornate wagon that had been her home all those weeks trundled into the square, then, drawn by a pair of stout horses. Sara saw her father turn reluctantly towards it, striding out into the square. Sara peered past him into the cloister, and for a moment Lord Bywood’s sharp eyes caught hers. Then he smiled, dipping his dark, smooth head, and vanished himself away into the shadows.
‘Father!’
Sara hurried out into the crowded square, leaving her escort behind, darting between the shifting limbs of the horses. Her father turned towards her as she approached, and smiled small smile, in two parts, one weary, one sad.
‘Sara.’
She threw her arms around him and pressed her head against his chest for a moment, and he put an arm around her shoulders. She knew her role, and the knowing of it made her safe for a moment. Then she stepped back, looking up at him.
‘I thought you were going to leave without saying goodbye.’
‘I… There was much preparation to do.’
Sara did not reply. His eyes had that same distance that they had had since they arrived in the capital. Uldoroth had worn at him, as if all the brightness and finery had made his skin dull, eyes darkened like the contrast of shadows in bright sun.
‘Will you write?’
He blinked as she spoke, then smiled, and the tiredness fell away from him for a moment. He took her chin gently in one hand, tilting it up to meet his eyes.
‘Yes, I will write.’ He told her, and she saw again that fierce ambition in his eyes, the look she had known so well on their journey from the Westmere. Swollen around the soft, lazy ease of diminished strength. ‘And I shall expect news in return. The Rose of Westmere will show these fools how a real lady charms.’
Sara smiled and lowered her eyes self-consciously.
‘I… I will not disappoint you, father.’ She said quietly, and found, in spite of herself, that there were tears in her eyes.
‘See that you do not.’ He replied. Then he let go of her chin and climbed quickly into the carriage. He leaned out from the window for a moment, before they were gone, banging a hand against the wooden panels of the door impatiently.
‘Move out!’
‘You heard him!’ Halin bellowed in response, holding his horse in check beneath him. ‘Back to Westmere, before your wives go straying!’
With that, her father’s men spurred their horses away into the white corridors of the citadel, bound for the sky-cages and the city below. They had arrived on foot, leading their steeds, but they left by horseback, hurried by grave purpose towards the long road west. She watched the window of the carriage as it trundled away with the horses, but her father did not appear again. She stayed there, staring after them, until the party were out of sight and the great gate of the keep heaved closed behind them, slamming into the distant stone with a resounding thud.
‘M’Lady.’
She turned to find the Black Guard waiting, watching her with dark eyes through the narrow slits of their polished helms. For a moment, the suddenness of the departure threatened to overwhelm her. What was it he had told her, slurring over his unfinished dinner, in the pristine perfection of their lodgings, surrounded by invisible eyes? Power belongs to the strong. To those who take it. Just then, standing in the courtyard, watching alone as her father departed, she realised that he was right. And he wasn’t strong enough. She took a deep breath, smiling for the Black Guard, and followed them out of the ancient courtyard into the halls beyond.
*
The broad, open avenues and garden-ways of the Keep of Eranor closed in to interior corridors rather quickly, when you knew the way, and soon Sara was following her black-gilded escort through pale passageways lined with statuettes and tapestries, ceilings lost far overhead to the flickering light of amber flames. An occasional glimpse of pale sunlight leaped out across the stone floor, shimmering through shifting motes of dust. Sara was her Lady-self again, graceful and poised, gliding over the polished floor after her escort. The giant corridors were a maze of twists and turns, past fragment-views of gardens and libraries and sitting-halls and galleries, but she was dimly aware they were moving towards the Hall of the King. The thought made her a little giddy.
‘Will I be received in the King’s Hall?’ She asked as they walked, but the Black Guards didn’t reply, and their armour clinked in the quiet. Sara frowned, following them. The passage curved, rising, and she found that the wall on her right side suddenly gave way to the hall below. One of the galleries, set high in the rafters of the King’s Hall. She stopped, putting her hand on the balustrade and peering out over the ledge, into the vaulted, silent emptiness of the hall. Some fifty foot below, the patterned black and white marble of the floor gleamed in flashes of reflected amber, quiet and empty. At the far end, pale sunlight caught the Night Throne, setting fire in the mirrored stone. Overhead, the matching nightglass ceiling gleamed like a lake in starlight, and swirling figures swept back and forth across it in the shifting light of the chamber. Sara felt a little thrill run over her neck.
‘Sara.’
Sara blinked, starting, and found Dana standing beside her.
‘Sister!’ Sara took hold of her sister’s hands and rose onto her tiptoes, pressing a kiss against her cheek. ‘Here to welcome me into the fold?’
She was struck again by the strangeness of her sister, the difference in her. Dana wore black, a dress of simple lines and inlaid jet, at once relaxed and taut as a lute string. Her pale hands were folded over her belly, and her muddy dark hair was pulled back into a bun. The Black Guards halted behind her, waiting.
‘I am to escort you to the Queen’s chambers.’ Dana said simply. With that she turned and began to walk away along the balcony, towards a closed door at the throne-end of the hall. Sara frowned, hurrying after her.
‘Do the King and Queen not share chambers?’ She asked as they walked, and the hall below drew on beside them.
‘Their Majesties prefer… to keep their own space.’
The Black Guard fell into step at a respectful distance behind them, armoured heels clicking against the stone.
‘How many others are there?’
‘How many what?’
‘Handmaidens. How many does her Majesty keep?’
Dana did not break stride. ‘Two others, and the Matron.’
‘I suppose we shall not have servants of our own.’ Sara said quietly, eyeing the shadows shifting over the nightglass ceiling. ‘No need to spy on us when we are so close.’
‘Sara-’ Dana began, but Sara cut her off.
‘Father is gone, you know. This morning.’
‘I know.’ Dana replied, looking ahead.
‘You did not come to see him.’
Dana did not turn.
‘I’m sure he will miss you terribly, sister.’
Sara bristled suddenly, grabbing her sister’s arm.
‘I did not ask for it!’
Dana looked down at the hand on her arm, frowning. ‘What?’
‘Any of it!’ Sara told her, angry now, her whisper cracking. ‘I didn’t ask to stay. I didn’t ask him to send you away. I would have given anything to go with you. I thought he would never let me leave.’ She lowered her voice, flicking an eye back towards the waiting guards. ‘I did not ask for the way he… the way he…’
She took a breath, swallowing, and straightened, looking her sister in the eye.
‘There are worse things than being ignored, Dana.’
Dana’s hand folded over hers.
‘Let’s… let’s put it behind us.’ She said quietly. ‘You are here, now.’
Sara blinked at her, nodding. She wanted to say more, but her words would not come, locked away from her tongue by the choked gulping of her breath. She lowered her eyes, and Dana squeezed her hand.
‘Sara, listen to me.’ Dana murmured, leaning close. ‘You must be careful. The Queen-’
The door at the far end of the gallery swung open, creaking on its hinges. The pair fell silent, frozen, and whatever Dana might have said, she held instead.
*
‘Wait here.’
The Matron, the head of the Queen’s Keepers, was an elderly woman with rounding hips and hair the colour of ash tied into a tight bun behind the worn-leather creases of her forehead. She was wearing black, same as Dana, though her smock was somehow plainer, when she opened the door onto the gallery, ushering the sisters wordlessly into the corridor beyond. Dana had bowed her head deferentially, withering under the Matron’s hard eyes, and quickly disappeared into one of the many doors of the hallway. Sara almost asked for her to stay, but instead she steeled herself, remembering her lessons, and followed the stern old woman down the long, flickering hallway. The corridors of the keep were all severe, all lit by weak, flickering torchlight and gleaming the gleam of cold stone, but here they were particularly bare. There were no busts, no tapestries, no mosaics. Nothing but cold, dead rock, lent a little life by the dim thrustings of infrequent braziers. In her own apartments, she had understood the quiet, but here, in the keep proper, there was an eery silence to the corridors that jarred with Sara’s anticipation. Where were the nobles in their gay clothes, where was the music and laughter of a King’s Hall? Sara frowned to herself, and kept walking.
The room at the end of the hallway was broad and rounded, like a kind of circle made out of many flat edges, each holding the low light of a brazier. The marble floors were black and white and patterned like a gamesboard, empty but for a broad nightwood table at its centre, matching the room itself for its odd roundness. On the far side, a wall of shutters opened out onto a large, bare balcony, and over the intricately wrought stone balustrade, Sara could see the City of the Moon below, sweeping away towards the edge of the Heartspire, empty stormtowers stabbing black into the sky. Beyond, the great emerald plains of Valia stretched out into the west, past the fiery line of the river Arq, scored with jagged, dark rock and silver streams. Sara swallowed, realising she’d never been so high up.
‘Wait here.’
‘But-‘ She protested, frowning, but the Matron was already gone, turned on her heel and disappeared back the way she had come. Sara flinched as the door slammed shut behind her, and the silence of the room prickled at her skin. The breeze rustled over the balcony, swirling about the pillared windows, but the air inside was still as the grave. She stepped slowly over to the table, touching the polished wood. This much nightwood would have cost more than a wagonload of gold. She traced the knotted lines across the black surface, trying to ignore the cold weight churning in her gut.
Time stretched on around her, and the minutes dragged by like years. Despite the open air flooding through the windows, the chamber was not cool, warmed by the subtle glow of the braziers, and she felt a little wetness beginning to build under her arms. She looked about herself, trying to calm her heart. There were four other doors in the room, besides the one they had entered through, all dark and heavy looking, and each bore a pattern of silver on its face. There was a cradle, and opposite it, a pendant with teeth like a wolf. Beside the cradle door, a small drinks table, a glass jug of purple wine atop it, with a pair of matching glasses. The two doors closest to the balcony bore a sun and a crescent moon. She looked a little closer, and realised that the markings were not moonsilver, merely an imitation in gleaming silver paint, and the door she had entered through bore no markings at all. Sara watched them, imagining the rooms that lay behind each. Which one was the Queen behind, she wondered, and her heart quickened at the thought, stomach churning. She was stranded, here, now, in the capital. What if the Queen didn’t like her? What if she said something wrong? Would she be sent away again, back to her father?
‘Lady Westmere.’
The crescent moon had swung open, and the Queen glided through, a beautiful shadow in a studded black dress, arms glistening with little sharpened sequins the colour of midnight. Her hair had been contorted into an elaborate maze of raven curls over her pate, and her pale skin took on a translucent sheen in the pale light from the balcony doors. The throat of her dress was open, as it had been in the King’s Hall all those days ago, and she wore the same golden necklace, its myriad points sharp like daggers with their drops of ruby blood.
Sara blinked, then remembered herself, and dropped into a low curtsy, bowing her head.
‘Your Majesty.’ She said quietly, keeping her eyes on the floor.
The Queen did not reply. Sara was dimly aware of her shadow moving across the floor, crossing to the drinks table beside the cradle door. Sara risked a glance up, then, and found the Queen’s slender back to her. When she at last turned, she had a glass goblet of wine clutched in her narrow fingers. Sara lowered her eyes again.
‘You are a pretty one, aren’t you.’ The Queen said quietly, as if to herself. Her voice was cold, like ice leaking over lakewater, deep and still. She took a sip from her cup, and Sara could feel the cut of her eyes against her skin. ‘What did the Weasel of Westmere do to sire such a pretty daughter. Your sister, maybe, I understand, but you…’
Sara forced herself not to frown.
‘Well trained, I see.’ The Queen murmured, smiling coldly. She took another sip of her wine. ‘Your mother’s touch, I assume, not your father’s.’
Sara hesitated. She glanced up at the Queen, then lowered her eyes again, nodding.
‘I hear she is unwell.’
Sara looked up again, braver this time, and found the Queen’s dark eyes watching her over the rim of her glass.
‘She has an affliction, Your Majesty. She does not eat, and rarely sleeps. The Keepers say it is a disease of her mind.’
‘The one thing none of us can escape.’ The Queen sighed, toying idly with her glass and looking out of the window over the city below. ‘Still, there are worse places to be sickly than a Lord’s hall.’
‘I suppose… I suppose that is true, Your Majesty.’
The Queen raised an eyebrow. ‘Suppose, do you?’
Sara squirmed for a moment under the weight of her eyes, but then the Queen turned away, stepping slowly around the edge of the table till she was standing beside the open windows. She took another sip of her wine, back to Sara again.
‘Your sister met you, this morning.’
Sara hesitated, thrown for a moment by the abruptness of the statement.
‘Yes, Your Majesty.’
‘And she came to you yesterday, in the apartments Bywood found for you.’
‘Yes.’ Sara felt the cold weight return in her belly. She thought of what the Fox had warned her. There is always someone watching. She cast her mind back to her conversations with Dana. Gods. What had they spoken of? Had she said something out of turn?
‘Curious, that she did not seek out your father.’
Sara let out her breath slowly. That was not a particularly well-hidden curiosity.
‘Dana must have been very busy, Your Majesty.’
‘She is as busy as I make her, and that is rarely too taxing.’
Sara sighed. ‘They have… sometimes not seen eye to eye.’
‘And you?’ The Queen turned as she spoke, fixing her eyes to Sara’s again. Behind her, the distant sounds of the city drifted lazily up through the air, swirling around far-off columns of wispy smoke. ‘What do you say of him?’
Sara hesitated again, stuttering. ‘He is my father, Your Majesty. I trust that he always knows what is best for his daughters.’
‘In my experience it is fathers who know the least about their own daughters.’ The Queen replied dryly, sipping again. ‘Come, let me look at you, then.’
She came back around the nightwood table, her long, narrow limbs gliding over the polished floor, and stopped in front of Sara, setting her glass down beside them. She took Sara’s chin in two spindly fingers and tilted it upwards so that she was looking her in the eye, only a few inches from her face. Sara realised again how tall she was, as tall as her father, at least, though her slender frame made her seem much smaller. She tried not to squirm, but she found that the Queen’s fingers dug uncomfortably into her chin, dark eyes flitting back and forth across her face like a hungry wolf.
‘Yes, very pretty.’ She said at last, not releasing her chin. Sara could feel her breath on her face, smelling softly of dark wine. ‘No wonder. You look like her, you know.’
‘Who-‘ but the Queen had already turned away, back to the table, picking up her wineglass in one bone-stretched hand.
‘The Matron will meet you outside. She will give you your tasks and show you to your chamber. You will begin tomorrow.’
Sara flinched, realising she had been holding her breath. She curtsied to the Queen’s back, suddenly a little giddy.
‘Thank you, Your Majesty.’
‘You may go, girl.’
Sara turned to go, not at all sure what to make of the encounter. She paused at the door, looking back over her shoulder, but found the Queen looking out over the city silently again, wineglass in hand, black dress glistening with jet. Sara hesitated a moment longer, then hurried out into the corridor beyond the unmarked door, closing it behind her.
*
The night before her father leaves, she wakes in darkness.
She does not open her eyes, but she knows it is not yet dawn. The sounds of the garden beyond her shutters are soft and murmuring, wind-stirred and drip-spotted.
She can feel him over her, the tense stillness of him, closer than shadows. He smells of wine. Sweat. She is cold, but she does not move. She dares not move. She can feel the weight of his eyes, dulled with drink, tracing the lines of her. His breathing sounds like anger.
She does not know how long she waits there, frozen. But she does not open her eyes. Not once. Time stretches out before her in that moment, an eternity of breathless terror.
Then he leaves. The smell of him lingers long after the door has closed behind him. She lays there a while longer, motionless, dead as stone. Then she curls into her own arms, and weeps silently until the dawn.
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Chapter Eleven - The Room of Doors
‘Get moving!’
Sara watched the men readying their horses, squinting at the brightness of the stone. The courtyard was full of the sound of boot-steps and creaking leather. Overhead, a thin veil of rippled grey hung over the early winter sky, and the dawn sun tugged gleaming at its edges. Overhead, the dull black shape of an old stormtower bled the sky. Empty, just like the rest of them. There was something very jarring, Sara decided, about the worn jerkins and stubbled cheeks of her father’s men, ensconced in a pillared courtyard of vast stone. They were out of place, and they had been every moment since arriving in Uldoroth, she realised. They didn’t belong here. Her own anxiety was mirrored imperfectly with the relief on their weary faces, and the dark rings under their eyes seemed just a little less deep. There may be Black Hand to deal with, back in the Westmere, but it was home. At least there your enemies had the decency to show themselves. Sara realised she was chewing her lip. At her back, two of the Black Guard waited wordlessly in their gold-touched armour, much more in keeping with the finery of the courtyard, and everything else in the capital. They were waiting to escort her away to the Queen, unaware they found a girl not so eager for the honour as she had been, just a few days before.
‘Father!’ She called out, spying him across the writhing mass of men in their moss green cloaks, but he seemed not to hear her. He was standing near the arched cloister at the far side of the square, cloaked and ready for travel, in hurried conversation with a shaded figure standing beyond the marble facade. She squinted, trying to make out the other man, but there was nothing but a dark shadow to trace.
‘Well then, M’lady.’ A voice said beside her, and she turned to find Halin looking down at her, a kind smile on his broad face. ‘You’ll be a right proper Princess when I next see you, methinks.’
Sara smiled at him and shook her head sheepishly. ‘Uldoroth is not my home, yet, Halin. I won’t forget.’
‘Be careful you don’t, Lady Sara.’ Halin glanced distrustfully at the Black Guard behind her. ‘Lots of fancy folk here. Fancy folk with fancier lies.’
‘I’ll be careful, Halin.’ She told him seriously.
He smiled again, and the sternness dissolved away from his face.
‘Take care, M’Lady.’ He told her, dipping his head politely. She returned the gesture, dropping into a small curtsy.
‘Look after my father, will you?’
‘Always, M’Lady.’
Halin hurried off into the throng in the square, and Sara watched him go, feeling her the knot in her belly tighten. The conversations with her unexpected visitors had left their mark, a nagging uncertainty gnawing at the excitement that had carried her through her first few uneventful days in the capital. The little comfort she had taken in the presence of her father and his men was a loss she could ill afford. She watched her father’s back, frowning softly to herself. Her thoughts were not what she had imagined, when she had thought of him leaving. A hundred different times, and more. Had she expected tears, grief at the parting? Relief? Instead, there was only the fear, a dull, leaden weight in her belly, clammy-cold as marsh-water.
‘Come on, you whoresons! I want to be on the road before lunch!’ Halin roared, and the men quickened their work. Her father had not moved, still deep in conversation, just out of sight. She peered a little closer, and for a moment the pale sunlight crept over the top of the square, flashing against a colourful doublet marked with a silver brooch. The Fox’s lips barely moved as he spoke from the shadows of the cloister, and her father was scowling. Sara frowned.
‘Mount up!’
The ornate wagon that had been her home all those weeks trundled into the square, then, drawn by a pair of stout horses. Sara saw her father turn reluctantly towards it, striding out into the square. Sara peered past him into the cloister, and for a moment Lord Bywood’s sharp eyes caught hers. Then he smiled, dipping his dark, smooth head, and vanished himself away into the shadows.
‘Father!’
Sara hurried out into the crowded square, leaving her escort behind, darting between the shifting limbs of the horses. Her father turned towards her as she approached, and smiled small smile, in two parts, one weary, one sad.
‘Sara.’
She threw her arms around him and pressed her head against his chest for a moment, and he put an arm around her shoulders. She knew her role, and the knowing of it made her safe for a moment. Then she stepped back, looking up at him.
‘I thought you were going to leave without saying goodbye.’
‘I… There was much preparation to do.’
Sara did not reply. His eyes had that same distance that they had had since they arrived in the capital. Uldoroth had worn at him, as if all the brightness and finery had made his skin dull, eyes darkened like the contrast of shadows in bright sun.
‘Will you write?’
He blinked as she spoke, then smiled, and the tiredness fell away from him for a moment. He took her chin gently in one hand, tilting it up to meet his eyes.
‘Yes, I will write.’ He told her, and she saw again that fierce ambition in his eyes, the look she had known so well on their journey from the Westmere. Swollen around the soft, lazy ease of diminished strength. ‘And I shall expect news in return. The Rose of Westmere will show these fools how a real lady charms.’
Sara smiled and lowered her eyes self-consciously.
‘I… I will not disappoint you, father.’ She said quietly, and found, in spite of herself, that there were tears in her eyes.
‘See that you do not.’ He replied. Then he let go of her chin and climbed quickly into the carriage. He leaned out from the window for a moment, before they were gone, banging a hand against the wooden panels of the door impatiently.
‘Move out!’
‘You heard him!’ Halin bellowed in response, holding his horse in check beneath him. ‘Back to Westmere, before your wives go straying!’
With that, her father’s men spurred their horses away into the white corridors of the citadel, bound for the sky-cages and the city below. They had arrived on foot, leading their steeds, but they left by horseback, hurried by grave purpose towards the long road west. She watched the window of the carriage as it trundled away with the horses, but her father did not appear again. She stayed there, staring after them, until the party were out of sight and the great gate of the keep heaved closed behind them, slamming into the distant stone with a resounding thud.
‘M’Lady.’
She turned to find the Black Guard waiting, watching her with dark eyes through the narrow slits of their polished helms. For a moment, the suddenness of the departure threatened to overwhelm her. What was it he had told her, slurring over his unfinished dinner, in the pristine perfection of their lodgings, surrounded by invisible eyes? Power belongs to the strong. To those who take it. Just then, standing in the courtyard, watching alone as her father departed, she realised that he was right. And he wasn’t strong enough. She took a deep breath, smiling for the Black Guard, and followed them out of the ancient courtyard into the halls beyond.
*
The broad, open avenues and garden-ways of the Keep of Eranor closed in to interior corridors rather quickly, when you knew the way, and soon Sara was following her black-gilded escort through pale passageways lined with statuettes and tapestries, ceilings lost far overhead to the flickering light of amber flames. An occasional glimpse of pale sunlight leaped out across the stone floor, shimmering through shifting motes of dust. Sara was her Lady-self again, graceful and poised, gliding over the polished floor after her escort. The giant corridors were a maze of twists and turns, past fragment-views of gardens and libraries and sitting-halls and galleries, but she was dimly aware they were moving towards the Hall of the King. The thought made her a little giddy.
‘Will I be received in the King’s Hall?’ She asked as they walked, but the Black Guards didn’t reply, and their armour clinked in the quiet. Sara frowned, following them. The passage curved, rising, and she found that the wall on her right side suddenly gave way to the hall below. One of the galleries, set high in the rafters of the King’s Hall. She stopped, putting her hand on the balustrade and peering out over the ledge, into the vaulted, silent emptiness of the hall. Some fifty foot below, the patterned black and white marble of the floor gleamed in flashes of reflected amber, quiet and empty. At the far end, pale sunlight caught the Night Throne, setting fire in the mirrored stone. Overhead, the matching nightglass ceiling gleamed like a lake in starlight, and swirling figures swept back and forth across it in the shifting light of the chamber. Sara felt a little thrill run over her neck.
‘Sara.’
Sara blinked, starting, and found Dana standing beside her.
‘Sister!’ Sara took hold of her sister’s hands and rose onto her tiptoes, pressing a kiss against her cheek. ‘Here to welcome me into the fold?’
She was struck again by the strangeness of her sister, the difference in her. Dana wore black, a dress of simple lines and inlaid jet, at once relaxed and taut as a lute string. Her pale hands were folded over her belly, and her muddy dark hair was pulled back into a bun. The Black Guards halted behind her, waiting.
‘I am to escort you to the Queen’s chambers.’ Dana said simply. With that she turned and began to walk away along the balcony, towards a closed door at the throne-end of the hall. Sara frowned, hurrying after her.
‘Do the King and Queen not share chambers?’ She asked as they walked, and the hall below drew on beside them.
‘Their Majesties prefer… to keep their own space.’
The Black Guard fell into step at a respectful distance behind them, armoured heels clicking against the stone.
‘How many others are there?’
‘How many what?’
‘Handmaidens. How many does her Majesty keep?’
Dana did not break stride. ‘Two others, and the Matron.’
‘I suppose we shall not have servants of our own.’ Sara said quietly, eyeing the shadows shifting over the nightglass ceiling. ‘No need to spy on us when we are so close.’
‘Sara-’ Dana began, but Sara cut her off.
‘Father is gone, you know. This morning.’
‘I know.’ Dana replied, looking ahead.
‘You did not come to see him.’
Dana did not turn.
‘I’m sure he will miss you terribly, sister.’
Sara bristled suddenly, grabbing her sister’s arm.
‘I did not ask for it!’
Dana looked down at the hand on her arm, frowning. ‘What?’
‘Any of it!’ Sara told her, angry now, her whisper cracking. ‘I didn’t ask to stay. I didn’t ask him to send you away. I would have given anything to go with you. I thought he would never let me leave.’ She lowered her voice, flicking an eye back towards the waiting guards. ‘I did not ask for the way he… the way he…’
She took a breath, swallowing, and straightened, looking her sister in the eye.
‘There are worse things than being ignored, Dana.’
Dana’s hand folded over hers.
‘Let’s… let’s put it behind us.’ She said quietly. ‘You are here, now.’
Sara blinked at her, nodding. She wanted to say more, but her words would not come, locked away from her tongue by the choked gulping of her breath. She lowered her eyes, and Dana squeezed her hand.
‘Sara, listen to me.’ Dana murmured, leaning close. ‘You must be careful. The Queen-’
The door at the far end of the gallery swung open, creaking on its hinges. The pair fell silent, frozen, and whatever Dana might have said, she held instead.
*
‘Wait here.’
The Matron, the head of the Queen’s Keepers, was an elderly woman with rounding hips and hair the colour of ash tied into a tight bun behind the worn-leather creases of her forehead. She was wearing black, same as Dana, though her smock was somehow plainer, when she opened the door onto the gallery, ushering the sisters wordlessly into the corridor beyond. Dana had bowed her head deferentially, withering under the Matron’s hard eyes, and quickly disappeared into one of the many doors of the hallway. Sara almost asked for her to stay, but instead she steeled herself, remembering her lessons, and followed the stern old woman down the long, flickering hallway. The corridors of the keep were all severe, all lit by weak, flickering torchlight and gleaming the gleam of cold stone, but here they were particularly bare. There were no busts, no tapestries, no mosaics. Nothing but cold, dead rock, lent a little life by the dim thrustings of infrequent braziers. In her own apartments, she had understood the quiet, but here, in the keep proper, there was an eery silence to the corridors that jarred with Sara’s anticipation. Where were the nobles in their gay clothes, where was the music and laughter of a King’s Hall? Sara frowned to herself, and kept walking.
The room at the end of the hallway was broad and rounded, like a kind of circle made out of many flat edges, each holding the low light of a brazier. The marble floors were black and white and patterned like a gamesboard, empty but for a broad nightwood table at its centre, matching the room itself for its odd roundness. On the far side, a wall of shutters opened out onto a large, bare balcony, and over the intricately wrought stone balustrade, Sara could see the City of the Moon below, sweeping away towards the edge of the Heartspire, empty stormtowers stabbing black into the sky. Beyond, the great emerald plains of Valia stretched out into the west, past the fiery line of the river Arq, scored with jagged, dark rock and silver streams. Sara swallowed, realising she’d never been so high up.
‘Wait here.’
‘But-‘ She protested, frowning, but the Matron was already gone, turned on her heel and disappeared back the way she had come. Sara flinched as the door slammed shut behind her, and the silence of the room prickled at her skin. The breeze rustled over the balcony, swirling about the pillared windows, but the air inside was still as the grave. She stepped slowly over to the table, touching the polished wood. This much nightwood would have cost more than a wagonload of gold. She traced the knotted lines across the black surface, trying to ignore the cold weight churning in her gut.
Time stretched on around her, and the minutes dragged by like years. Despite the open air flooding through the windows, the chamber was not cool, warmed by the subtle glow of the braziers, and she felt a little wetness beginning to build under her arms. She looked about herself, trying to calm her heart. There were four other doors in the room, besides the one they had entered through, all dark and heavy looking, and each bore a pattern of silver on its face. There was a cradle, and opposite it, a pendant with teeth like a wolf. Beside the cradle door, a small drinks table, a glass jug of purple wine atop it, with a pair of matching glasses. The two doors closest to the balcony bore a sun and a crescent moon. She looked a little closer, and realised that the markings were not moonsilver, merely an imitation in gleaming silver paint, and the door she had entered through bore no markings at all. Sara watched them, imagining the rooms that lay behind each. Which one was the Queen behind, she wondered, and her heart quickened at the thought, stomach churning. She was stranded, here, now, in the capital. What if the Queen didn’t like her? What if she said something wrong? Would she be sent away again, back to her father?
‘Lady Westmere.’
The crescent moon had swung open, and the Queen glided through, a beautiful shadow in a studded black dress, arms glistening with little sharpened sequins the colour of midnight. Her hair had been contorted into an elaborate maze of raven curls over her pate, and her pale skin took on a translucent sheen in the pale light from the balcony doors. The throat of her dress was open, as it had been in the King’s Hall all those days ago, and she wore the same golden necklace, its myriad points sharp like daggers with their drops of ruby blood.
Sara blinked, then remembered herself, and dropped into a low curtsy, bowing her head.
‘Your Majesty.’ She said quietly, keeping her eyes on the floor.
The Queen did not reply. Sara was dimly aware of her shadow moving across the floor, crossing to the drinks table beside the cradle door. Sara risked a glance up, then, and found the Queen’s slender back to her. When she at last turned, she had a glass goblet of wine clutched in her narrow fingers. Sara lowered her eyes again.
‘You are a pretty one, aren’t you.’ The Queen said quietly, as if to herself. Her voice was cold, like ice leaking over lakewater, deep and still. She took a sip from her cup, and Sara could feel the cut of her eyes against her skin. ‘What did the Weasel of Westmere do to sire such a pretty daughter. Your sister, maybe, I understand, but you…’
Sara forced herself not to frown.
‘Well trained, I see.’ The Queen murmured, smiling coldly. She took another sip of her wine. ‘Your mother’s touch, I assume, not your father’s.’
Sara hesitated. She glanced up at the Queen, then lowered her eyes again, nodding.
‘I hear she is unwell.’
Sara looked up again, braver this time, and found the Queen’s dark eyes watching her over the rim of her glass.
‘She has an affliction, Your Majesty. She does not eat, and rarely sleeps. The Keepers say it is a disease of her mind.’
‘The one thing none of us can escape.’ The Queen sighed, toying idly with her glass and looking out of the window over the city below. ‘Still, there are worse places to be sickly than a Lord’s hall.’
‘I suppose… I suppose that is true, Your Majesty.’
The Queen raised an eyebrow. ‘Suppose, do you?’
Sara squirmed for a moment under the weight of her eyes, but then the Queen turned away, stepping slowly around the edge of the table till she was standing beside the open windows. She took another sip of her wine, back to Sara again.
‘Your sister met you, this morning.’
Sara hesitated, thrown for a moment by the abruptness of the statement.
‘Yes, Your Majesty.’
‘And she came to you yesterday, in the apartments Bywood found for you.’
‘Yes.’ Sara felt the cold weight return in her belly. She thought of what the Fox had warned her. There is always someone watching. She cast her mind back to her conversations with Dana. Gods. What had they spoken of? Had she said something out of turn?
‘Curious, that she did not seek out your father.’
Sara let out her breath slowly. That was not a particularly well-hidden curiosity.
‘Dana must have been very busy, Your Majesty.’
‘She is as busy as I make her, and that is rarely too taxing.’
Sara sighed. ‘They have… sometimes not seen eye to eye.’
‘And you?’ The Queen turned as she spoke, fixing her eyes to Sara’s again. Behind her, the distant sounds of the city drifted lazily up through the air, swirling around far-off columns of wispy smoke. ‘What do you say of him?’
Sara hesitated again, stuttering. ‘He is my father, Your Majesty. I trust that he always knows what is best for his daughters.’
‘In my experience it is fathers who know the least about their own daughters.’ The Queen replied dryly, sipping again. ‘Come, let me look at you, then.’
She came back around the nightwood table, her long, narrow limbs gliding over the polished floor, and stopped in front of Sara, setting her glass down beside them. She took Sara’s chin in two spindly fingers and tilted it upwards so that she was looking her in the eye, only a few inches from her face. Sara realised again how tall she was, as tall as her father, at least, though her slender frame made her seem much smaller. She tried not to squirm, but she found that the Queen’s fingers dug uncomfortably into her chin, dark eyes flitting back and forth across her face like a hungry wolf.
‘Yes, very pretty.’ She said at last, not releasing her chin. Sara could feel her breath on her face, smelling softly of dark wine. ‘No wonder. You look like her, you know.’
‘Who-‘ but the Queen had already turned away, back to the table, picking up her wineglass in one bone-stretched hand.
‘The Matron will meet you outside. She will give you your tasks and show you to your chamber. You will begin tomorrow.’
Sara flinched, realising she had been holding her breath. She curtsied to the Queen’s back, suddenly a little giddy.
‘Thank you, Your Majesty.’
‘You may go, girl.’
Sara turned to go, not at all sure what to make of the encounter. She paused at the door, looking back over her shoulder, but found the Queen looking out over the city silently again, wineglass in hand, black dress glistening with jet. Sara hesitated a moment longer, then hurried out into the corridor beyond the unmarked door, closing it behind her.
*
The night before her father leaves, she wakes in darkness.
She does not open her eyes, but she knows it is not yet dawn. The sounds of the garden beyond her shutters are soft and murmuring, wind-stirred and drip-spotted.
She can feel him over her, the tense stillness of him, closer than shadows. He smells of wine. Sweat. She is cold, but she does not move. She dares not move. She can feel the weight of his eyes, dulled with drink, tracing the lines of her. His breathing sounds like anger.
She does not know how long she waits there, frozen. But she does not open her eyes. Not once. Time stretches out before her in that moment, an eternity of breathless terror.
Then he leaves. The smell of him lingers long after the door has closed behind him. She lays there a while longer, motionless, dead as stone. Then she curls into her own arms, and weeps silently until the dawn.
2023.05.29 17:33 TheScribe_1 [The Book of the Chosen] - Chapter Eleven - The Room of Doors
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*
Chapter Eleven - The Room of Doors
‘Get moving!’
Sara watched the men readying their horses, squinting at the bright-ness of the stone. The courtyard was full of the sound of boot-steps and creaking leather. Overhead, a thin veil of rippled grey hung over the early winter sky, and the dawn sun tugged gleaming at its edges. Over-head, the dull black shape of an old stormtower bled the sky. Empty, just like the rest of them. There was something very jarring, Sara de-cided, about the worn jerkins and stubbled cheeks of her father’s men, ensconced in a pillared courtyard of vast stone. They were out of place, and they had been every moment since arriving in Uldoroth, she real-ised. They didn’t belong here. Her own anxiety was mirrored imper-fectly with the relief on their weary faces, and the dark rings under their eyes seemed just a little less deep. There may be Black Hand to deal with, back in the Westmere, but it was home. At least there your ene-mies had the decency to show themselves. Sara realised she was chew-ing her lip. At her back, two of the Black Guard waited wordlessly in their gold-touched armour, much more in keeping with the finery of the courtyard, and everything else in the capital. They were waiting to es-cort her away to the Queen, unaware they found a girl not so eager for the honour as she had been, just a few days before.
‘Father!’ She called out, spying him across the writhing mass of men in their moss green cloaks, but he seemed not to hear her. He was standing near the arched cloister at the far side of the square, cloaked and ready for travel, in hurried conversation with a shaded figure stand-ing beyond the marble facade. She squinted, trying to make out the oth-er man, but there was nothing but a dark shadow to trace.
‘Well then, M’lady.’ A voice said beside her, and she turned to find Halin looking down at her, a kind smile on his broad face. ‘You’ll be a right proper Princess when I next see you, methinks.’
Sara smiled at him and shook her head sheepishly. ‘Uldoroth is not my home, yet, Halin. I won’t forget.’
‘Be careful you don’t, Lady Sara.’ Halin glanced distrustfully at the Black Guard behind her. ‘Lots of fancy folk here. Fancy folk with fan-cier lies.’
‘I’ll be careful, Halin.’ She told him seriously.
He smiled again, and the sternness dissolved away from his face.
‘Take care, M’Lady.’ He told her, dipping his head politely. She re-turned the gesture, dropping into a small curtsy.
‘Look after my father, will you?’
‘Always, M’Lady.’
Halin hurried off into the throng in the square, and Sara watched him go, feeling her the knot in her belly tighten. The conversations with her unexpected visitors had left their mark, a nagging uncertainty gnawing at the excitement that had carried her through her first few uneventful days in the capital. The little comfort she had taken in the presence of her father and his men was a loss she could ill afford. She watched her father’s back, frowning softly to herself. Her thoughts were not what she had imagined, when she had thought of him leaving. A hundred dif-ferent times, and more. Had she expected tears, grief at the parting? Re-lief? Instead, there was only the fear, a dull, leaden weight in her belly, clammy-cold as marsh-water.
‘Come on, you whoresons! I want to be on the road before lunch!’ Halin roared, and the men quickened their work. Her father had not moved, still deep in conversation, just out of sight. She peered a little closer, and for a moment the pale sunlight crept over the top of the square, flashing against a colourful doublet marked with a silver brooch. The Fox’s lips barely moved as he spoke from the shadows of the cloister, and her father was scowling. Sara frowned.
‘Mount up!’
The ornate wagon that had been her home all those weeks trundled into the square, then, drawn by a pair of stout horses. Sara saw her fa-ther turn reluctantly towards it, striding out into the square. Sara peered past him into the cloister, and for a moment Lord Bywood’s sharp eyes caught hers. Then he smiled, dipping his dark, smooth head, and van-ished himself away into the shadows.
‘Father!’
Sara hurried out into the crowded square, leaving her escort behind, darting between the shifting limbs of the horses. Her father turned to-wards her as she approached, and smiled small smile, in two parts, one weary, one sad.
‘Sara.’
She threw her arms around him and pressed her head against his chest for a moment, and he put an arm around her shoulders. She knew her role, and the knowing of it made her safe for a moment. Then she stepped back, looking up at him.
‘I thought you were going to leave without saying goodbye.’
‘I… There was much preparation to do.’
Sara did not reply. His eyes had that same distance that they had had since they arrived in the capital. Uldoroth had worn at him, as if all the brightness and finery had made his skin dull, eyes darkened like the contrast of shadows in bright sun.
‘Will you write?’
He blinked as she spoke, then smiled, and the tiredness fell away from him for a moment. He took her chin gently in one hand, tilting it up to meet his eyes.
‘Yes, I will write.’ He told her, and she saw again that fierce ambi-tion in his eyes, the look she had known so well on their journey from the Westmere. Swollen around the soft, lazy ease of diminished strength. ‘And I shall expect news in return. The Rose of Westmere will show these fools how a real lady charms.’
Sara smiled and lowered her eyes self-consciously.
‘I… I will not disappoint you, father.’ She said quietly, and found, in spite of herself, that there were tears in her eyes.
‘See that you do not.’ He replied. Then he let go of her chin and climbed quickly into the carriage. He leaned out from the window for a moment, before they were gone, banging a hand against the wooden panels of the door impatiently.
‘Move out!’
‘You heard him!’ Halin bellowed in response, holding his horse in check beneath him. ‘Back to Westmere, before your wives go stray-ing!’
With that, her father’s men spurred their horses away into the white corridors of the citadel, bound for the sky-cages and the city below. They had arrived on foot, leading their steeds, but they left by horse-back, hurried by grave purpose towards the long road west. She watched the window of the carriage as it trundled away with the horses, but her father did not appear again. She stayed there, staring after them, until the party were out of sight and the great gate of the keep heaved closed behind them, slamming into the distant stone with a resounding thud.
‘M’Lady.’
She turned to find the Black Guard waiting, watching her with dark eyes through the narrow slits of their polished helms. For a moment, the suddenness of the departure threatened to overwhelm her. What was it he had told her, slurring over his unfinished dinner, in the pristine per-fection of their lodgings, surrounded by invisible eyes? Power belongs to the strong. To those who take it. Just then, standing in the courtyard, watching alone as her father departed, she realised that he was right. And he wasn’t strong enough. She took a deep breath, smiling for the Black Guard, and followed them out of the ancient courtyard into the halls beyond.
*
The broad, open avenues and garden-ways of the Keep of Eranor closed in to interior corridors rather quickly, when you knew the way, and soon Sara was following her black-gilded escort through pale pas-sageways lined with statuettes and tapestries, ceilings lost far overhead to the flickering light of amber flames. An occasional glimpse of pale sunlight leaped out across the stone floor, shimmering through shifting motes of dust. Sara was her Lady-self again, graceful and poised, glid-ing over the polished floor after her escort. The giant corridors were a maze of twists and turns, past fragment-views of gardens and libraries and sitting-halls and galleries, but she was dimly aware they were mov-ing towards the Hall of the King. The thought made her a little giddy.
‘Will I be received in the King’s Hall?’ She asked as they walked, but the Black Guards didn’t reply, and their armour clinked in the quiet. Sara frowned, following them. The passage curved, rising, and she found that the wall on her right side suddenly gave way to the hall be-low. One of the galleries, set high in the rafters of the King’s Hall. She stopped, putting her hand on the balustrade and peering out over the ledge, into the vaulted, silent emptiness of the hall. Some fifty foot be-low, the patterned black and white marble of the floor gleamed in flashes of reflected amber, quiet and empty. At the far end, pale sun-light caught the Night Throne, setting fire in the mirrored stone. Over-head, the matching nightglass ceiling gleamed like a lake in starlight, and swirling figures swept back and forth across it in the shifting light of the chamber. Sara felt a little thrill run over her neck.
‘Sara.’
Sara blinked, starting, and found Dana standing beside her.
‘Sister!’ Sara took hold of her sister’s hands and rose onto her tip-toes, pressing a kiss against her cheek. ‘Here to welcome me into the fold?’
She was struck again by the strangeness of her sister, the difference in her. Dana wore black, a dress of simple lines and inlaid jet, at once relaxed and taut as a lute string. Her pale hands were folded over her belly, and her muddy dark hair was pulled back into a bun. The Black Guards halted behind her, waiting.
‘I am to escort you to the Queen’s chambers.’ Dana said simply. With that she turned and began to walk away along the balcony, to-wards a closed door at the throne-end of the hall. Sara frowned, hurry-ing after her.
‘Do the King and Queen not share chambers?’ She asked as they walked, and the hall below drew on beside them.
‘Their Majesties prefer… to keep their own space.’
The Black Guard fell into step at a respectful distance behind them, armoured heels clicking against the stone.
‘How many others are there?’
‘How many what?’
‘Handmaidens. How many does her Majesty keep?’
Dana did not break stride. ‘Two others, and the Matron.’
‘I suppose we shall not have servants of our own.’ Sara said quietly, eyeing the shadows shifting over the nightglass ceiling. ‘No need to spy on us when we are so close.’
‘Sara-’ Dana began, but Sara cut her off.
‘Father is gone, you know. This morning.’
‘I know.’ Dana replied, looking ahead.
‘You did not come to see him.’
Dana did not turn.
‘I’m sure he will miss you terribly, sister.’
Sara bristled suddenly, grabbing her sister’s arm.
‘I did not ask for it!’
Dana looked down at the hand on her arm, frowning. ‘What?’
‘Any of it!’ Sara told her, angry now, her whisper cracking. ‘I didn’t ask to stay. I didn’t ask him to send you away. I would have given any-thing to go with you. I thought he would never let me leave.’ She low-ered her voice, flicking an eye back towards the waiting guards. ‘I did not ask for the way he… the way he…’
She took a breath, swallowing, and straightened, looking her sister in the eye.
‘There are worse things than being ignored, Dana.’
Dana’s hand folded over hers.
‘Let’s… let’s put it behind us.’ She said quietly. ‘You are here, now.’
Sara blinked at her, nodding. She wanted to say more, but her words would not come, locked away from her tongue by the choked gulping of her breath. She lowered her eyes, and Dana squeezed her hand.
‘Sara, listen to me.’ Dana murmured, leaning close. ‘You must be careful. The Queen-’
The door at the far end of the gallery swung open, creaking on its hinges. The pair fell silent, frozen, and whatever Dana might have said, she held instead.
*
‘Wait here.’
The Matron, the head of the Queen’s Keepers, was an elderly wom-an with rounding hips and hair the colour of ash tied into a tight bun behind the worn-leather creases of her forehead. She was wearing black, same as Dana, though her smock was somehow plainer, when she opened the door onto the gallery, ushering the sisters wordlessly in-to the corridor beyond. Dana had bowed her head deferentially, wither-ing under the Matron’s hard eyes, and quickly disappeared into one of the many doors of the hallway. Sara almost asked for her to stay, but instead she steeled herself, remembering her lessons, and followed the stern old woman down the long, flickering hallway. The corridors of the keep were all severe, all lit by weak, flickering torchlight and gleaming the gleam of cold stone, but here they were particularly bare. There were no busts, no tapestries, no mosaics. Nothing but cold, dead rock, lent a little life by the dim thrustings of infrequent braziers. In her own apartments, she had understood the quiet, but here, in the keep proper, there was an eery silence to the corridors that jarred with Sara’s anticipation. Where were the nobles in their gay clothes, where was the music and laughter of a King’s Hall? Sara frowned to herself, and kept walking.
The room at the end of the hallway was broad and rounded, like a kind of circle made out of many flat edges, each holding the low light of a brazier. The marble floors were black and white and patterned like a gamesboard, empty but for a broad nightwood table at its centre, matching the room itself for its odd roundness. On the far side, a wall of shutters opened out onto a large, bare balcony, and over the intricate-ly wrought stone balustrade, Sara could see the City of the Moon be-low, sweeping away towards the edge of the Heartspire, empty stormtowers stabbing black into the sky. Beyond, the great emerald plains of Valia stretched out into the west, past the fiery line of the river Arq, scored with jagged, dark rock and silver streams. Sara swallowed, realising she’d never been so high up.
‘Wait here.’
‘But-‘ She protested, frowning, but the Matron was already gone, turned on her heel and disappeared back the way she had come. Sara flinched as the door slammed shut behind her, and the silence of the room prickled at her skin. The breeze rustled over the balcony, swirling about the pillared windows, but the air inside was still as the grave. She stepped slowly over to the table, touching the polished wood. This much nightwood would have cost more than a wagonload of gold. She traced the knotted lines across the black surface, trying to ignore the cold weight churning in her gut.
Time stretched on around her, and the minutes dragged by like years. Despite the open air flooding through the windows, the chamber was not cool, warmed by the subtle glow of the braziers, and she felt a little wetness beginning to build under her arms. She looked about her-self, trying to calm her heart. There were four other doors in the room, besides the one they had entered through, all dark and heavy looking, and each bore a pattern of silver on its face. There was a cradle, and opposite it, a pendant with teeth like a wolf. Beside the cradle door, a small drinks table, a glass jug of purple wine atop it, with a pair of matching glasses. The two doors closest to the balcony bore a sun and a crescent moon. She looked a little closer, and realised that the markings were not moonsilver, merely an imitation in gleaming silver paint, and the door she had entered through bore no markings at all. Sara watched them, imagining the rooms that lay behind each. Which one was the Queen behind, she wondered, and her heart quickened at the thought, stomach churning. She was stranded, here, now, in the capital. What if the Queen didn’t like her? What if she said something wrong? Would she be sent away again, back to her father?
‘Lady Westmere.’
The crescent moon had swung open, and the Queen glided through, a beautiful shadow in a studded black dress, arms glistening with little sharpened sequins the colour of midnight. Her hair had been contorted into an elaborate maze of raven curls over her pate, and her pale skin took on a translucent sheen in the pale light from the balcony doors. The throat of her dress was open, as it had been in the King’s Hall all those days ago, and she wore the same golden necklace, its myriad points sharp like daggers with their drops of ruby blood.
Sara blinked, then remembered herself, and dropped into a low curt-sy, bowing her head.
‘Your Majesty.’ She said quietly, keeping her eyes on the floor.
The Queen did not reply. Sara was dimly aware of her shadow mov-ing across the floor, crossing to the drinks table beside the cradle door. Sara risked a glance up, then, and found the Queen’s slender back to her. When she at last turned, she had a glass goblet of wine clutched in her narrow fingers. Sara lowered her eyes again.
‘You are a pretty one, aren’t you.’ The Queen said quietly, as if to herself. Her voice was cold, like ice leaking over lakewater, deep and still. She took a sip from her cup, and Sara could feel the cut of her eyes against her skin. ‘What did the Weasel of Westmere do to sire such a pretty daughter. Your sister, maybe, I understand, but you…’
Sara forced herself not to frown.
‘Well trained, I see.’ The Queen murmured, smiling coldly. She took another sip of her wine. ‘Your mother’s touch, I assume, not your fa-ther’s.’
Sara hesitated. She glanced up at the Queen, then lowered her eyes again, nodding.
‘I hear she is unwell.’
Sara looked up again, braver this time, and found the Queen’s dark eyes watching her over the rim of her glass.
‘She has an affliction, Your Majesty. She does not eat, and rarely sleeps. The Keepers say it is a disease of her mind.’
‘The one thing none of us can escape.’ The Queen sighed, toying idly with her glass and looking out of the window over the city below. ‘Still, there are worse places to be sickly than a Lord’s hall.’
‘I suppose… I suppose that is true, Your Majesty.’
The Queen raised an eyebrow. ‘Suppose, do you?’
Sara squirmed for a moment under the weight of her eyes, but then the Queen turned away, stepping slowly around the edge of the table till she was standing beside the open windows. She took another sip of her wine, back to Sara again.
‘Your sister met you, this morning.’
Sara hesitated, thrown for a moment by the abruptness of the state-ment.
‘Yes, Your Majesty.’
‘And she came to you yesterday, in the apartments Bywood found for you.’
‘Yes.’ Sara felt the cold weight return in her belly. She thought of what the Fox had warned her. There is always someone watching. She cast her mind back to her conversations with Dana. Gods. What had they spoken of? Had she said something out of turn?
‘Curious, that she did not seek out your father.’
Sara let out her breath slowly. That was not a particularly well-hidden curiosity.
‘Dana must have been very busy, Your Majesty.’
‘She is as busy as I make her, and that is rarely too taxing.’
Sara sighed. ‘They have… sometimes not seen eye to eye.’
‘And you?’ The Queen turned as she spoke, fixing her eyes to Sara’s again. Behind her, the distant sounds of the city drifted lazily up through the air, swirling around far-off columns of wispy smoke. ‘What do you say of him?’
Sara hesitated again, stuttering. ‘He is my father, Your Majesty. I trust that he always knows what is best for his daughters.’
‘In my experience it is fathers who know the least about their own daughters.’ The Queen replied dryly, sipping again. ‘Come, let me look at you, then.’
She came back around the nightwood table, her long, narrow limbs gliding over the polished floor, and stopped in front of Sara, setting her glass down beside them. She took Sara’s chin in two spindly fingers and tilted it upwards so that she was looking her in the eye, only a few inches from her face. Sara realised again how tall she was, as tall as her father, at least, though her slender frame made her seem much smaller. She tried not to squirm, but she found that the Queen’s fingers dug un-comfortably into her chin, dark eyes flitting back and forth across her face like a hungry wolf.
‘Yes, very pretty.’ She said at last, not releasing her chin. Sara could feel her breath on her face, smelling softly of dark wine. ‘No wonder. You look like her, you know.’
‘Who-‘ but the Queen had already turned away, back to the table, picking up her wineglass in one bone-stretched hand.
‘The Matron will meet you outside. She will give you your tasks and show you to your chamber. You will begin tomorrow.’
Sara flinched, realising she had been holding her breath. She curt-sied to the Queen’s back, suddenly a little giddy.
‘Thank you, Your Majesty.’
‘You may go, girl.’
Sara turned to go, not at all sure what to make of the encounter. She paused at the door, looking back over her shoulder, but found the Queen looking out over the city silently again, wineglass in hand, black dress glistening with jet. Sara hesitated a moment longer, then hurried out into the corridor beyond the unmarked door, closing it behind her.
*
The night before her father leaves, she wakes in darkness.
She does not open her eyes, but she knows it is not yet dawn. The sounds of the garden beyond her shutters are soft and murmuring, wind-stirred and drip-spotted.
She can feel him over her, the tense stillness of him, closer than shadows. He smells of wine. Sweat. She is cold, but she does not move. She dares not move. She can feel the weight of his eyes, dulled with drink, tracing the lines of her. His breathing sounds like anger.
She does not know how long she waits there, frozen. But she does not open her eyes. Not once. Time stretches out before her in that mo-ment, an eternity of breathless terror.
Then he leaves. The smell of him lingers long after the door has closed behind him. She lays there a while longer, motionless, dead as stone. Then she curls into her own arms, and weeps silently until the dawn.
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*
Chapter Eleven - The Room of Doors
‘Get moving!’
Sara watched the men readying their horses, squinting at the bright-ness of the stone. The courtyard was full of the sound of boot-steps and creaking leather. Overhead, a thin veil of rippled grey hung over the early winter sky, and the dawn sun tugged gleaming at its edges. Over-head, the dull black shape of an old stormtower bled the sky. Empty, just like the rest of them. There was something very jarring, Sara de-cided, about the worn jerkins and stubbled cheeks of her father’s men, ensconced in a pillared courtyard of vast stone. They were out of place, and they had been every moment since arriving in Uldoroth, she real-ised. They didn’t belong here. Her own anxiety was mirrored imper-fectly with the relief on their weary faces, and the dark rings under their eyes seemed just a little less deep. There may be Black Hand to deal with, back in the Westmere, but it was home. At least there your ene-mies had the decency to show themselves. Sara realised she was chew-ing her lip. At her back, two of the Black Guard waited wordlessly in their gold-touched armour, much more in keeping with the finery of the courtyard, and everything else in the capital. They were waiting to es-cort her away to the Queen, unaware they found a girl not so eager for the honour as she had been, just a few days before.
‘Father!’ She called out, spying him across the writhing mass of men in their moss green cloaks, but he seemed not to hear her. He was standing near the arched cloister at the far side of the square, cloaked and ready for travel, in hurried conversation with a shaded figure stand-ing beyond the marble facade. She squinted, trying to make out the oth-er man, but there was nothing but a dark shadow to trace.
‘Well then, M’lady.’ A voice said beside her, and she turned to find Halin looking down at her, a kind smile on his broad face. ‘You’ll be a right proper Princess when I next see you, methinks.’
Sara smiled at him and shook her head sheepishly. ‘Uldoroth is not my home, yet, Halin. I won’t forget.’
‘Be careful you don’t, Lady Sara.’ Halin glanced distrustfully at the Black Guard behind her. ‘Lots of fancy folk here. Fancy folk with fan-cier lies.’
‘I’ll be careful, Halin.’ She told him seriously.
He smiled again, and the sternness dissolved away from his face.
‘Take care, M’Lady.’ He told her, dipping his head politely. She re-turned the gesture, dropping into a small curtsy.
‘Look after my father, will you?’
‘Always, M’Lady.’
Halin hurried off into the throng in the square, and Sara watched him go, feeling her the knot in her belly tighten. The conversations with her unexpected visitors had left their mark, a nagging uncertainty gnawing at the excitement that had carried her through her first few uneventful days in the capital. The little comfort she had taken in the presence of her father and his men was a loss she could ill afford. She watched her father’s back, frowning softly to herself. Her thoughts were not what she had imagined, when she had thought of him leaving. A hundred dif-ferent times, and more. Had she expected tears, grief at the parting? Re-lief? Instead, there was only the fear, a dull, leaden weight in her belly, clammy-cold as marsh-water.
‘Come on, you whoresons! I want to be on the road before lunch!’ Halin roared, and the men quickened their work. Her father had not moved, still deep in conversation, just out of sight. She peered a little closer, and for a moment the pale sunlight crept over the top of the square, flashing against a colourful doublet marked with a silver brooch. The Fox’s lips barely moved as he spoke from the shadows of the cloister, and her father was scowling. Sara frowned.
‘Mount up!’
The ornate wagon that had been her home all those weeks trundled into the square, then, drawn by a pair of stout horses. Sara saw her fa-ther turn reluctantly towards it, striding out into the square. Sara peered past him into the cloister, and for a moment Lord Bywood’s sharp eyes caught hers. Then he smiled, dipping his dark, smooth head, and van-ished himself away into the shadows.
‘Father!’
Sara hurried out into the crowded square, leaving her escort behind, darting between the shifting limbs of the horses. Her father turned to-wards her as she approached, and smiled small smile, in two parts, one weary, one sad.
‘Sara.’
She threw her arms around him and pressed her head against his chest for a moment, and he put an arm around her shoulders. She knew her role, and the knowing of it made her safe for a moment. Then she stepped back, looking up at him.
‘I thought you were going to leave without saying goodbye.’
‘I… There was much preparation to do.’
Sara did not reply. His eyes had that same distance that they had had since they arrived in the capital. Uldoroth had worn at him, as if all the brightness and finery had made his skin dull, eyes darkened like the contrast of shadows in bright sun.
‘Will you write?’
He blinked as she spoke, then smiled, and the tiredness fell away from him for a moment. He took her chin gently in one hand, tilting it up to meet his eyes.
‘Yes, I will write.’ He told her, and she saw again that fierce ambi-tion in his eyes, the look she had known so well on their journey from the Westmere. Swollen around the soft, lazy ease of diminished strength. ‘And I shall expect news in return. The Rose of Westmere will show these fools how a real lady charms.’
Sara smiled and lowered her eyes self-consciously.
‘I… I will not disappoint you, father.’ She said quietly, and found, in spite of herself, that there were tears in her eyes.
‘See that you do not.’ He replied. Then he let go of her chin and climbed quickly into the carriage. He leaned out from the window for a moment, before they were gone, banging a hand against the wooden panels of the door impatiently.
‘Move out!’
‘You heard him!’ Halin bellowed in response, holding his horse in check beneath him. ‘Back to Westmere, before your wives go stray-ing!’
With that, her father’s men spurred their horses away into the white corridors of the citadel, bound for the sky-cages and the city below. They had arrived on foot, leading their steeds, but they left by horse-back, hurried by grave purpose towards the long road west. She watched the window of the carriage as it trundled away with the horses, but her father did not appear again. She stayed there, staring after them, until the party were out of sight and the great gate of the keep heaved closed behind them, slamming into the distant stone with a resounding thud.
‘M’Lady.’
She turned to find the Black Guard waiting, watching her with dark eyes through the narrow slits of their polished helms. For a moment, the suddenness of the departure threatened to overwhelm her. What was it he had told her, slurring over his unfinished dinner, in the pristine per-fection of their lodgings, surrounded by invisible eyes? Power belongs to the strong. To those who take it. Just then, standing in the courtyard, watching alone as her father departed, she realised that he was right. And he wasn’t strong enough. She took a deep breath, smiling for the Black Guard, and followed them out of the ancient courtyard into the halls beyond.
*
The broad, open avenues and garden-ways of the Keep of Eranor closed in to interior corridors rather quickly, when you knew the way, and soon Sara was following her black-gilded escort through pale pas-sageways lined with statuettes and tapestries, ceilings lost far overhead to the flickering light of amber flames. An occasional glimpse of pale sunlight leaped out across the stone floor, shimmering through shifting motes of dust. Sara was her Lady-self again, graceful and poised, glid-ing over the polished floor after her escort. The giant corridors were a maze of twists and turns, past fragment-views of gardens and libraries and sitting-halls and galleries, but she was dimly aware they were mov-ing towards the Hall of the King. The thought made her a little giddy.
‘Will I be received in the King’s Hall?’ She asked as they walked, but the Black Guards didn’t reply, and their armour clinked in the quiet. Sara frowned, following them. The passage curved, rising, and she found that the wall on her right side suddenly gave way to the hall be-low. One of the galleries, set high in the rafters of the King’s Hall. She stopped, putting her hand on the balustrade and peering out over the ledge, into the vaulted, silent emptiness of the hall. Some fifty foot be-low, the patterned black and white marble of the floor gleamed in flashes of reflected amber, quiet and empty. At the far end, pale sun-light caught the Night Throne, setting fire in the mirrored stone. Over-head, the matching nightglass ceiling gleamed like a lake in starlight, and swirling figures swept back and forth across it in the shifting light of the chamber. Sara felt a little thrill run over her neck.
‘Sara.’
Sara blinked, starting, and found Dana standing beside her.
‘Sister!’ Sara took hold of her sister’s hands and rose onto her tip-toes, pressing a kiss against her cheek. ‘Here to welcome me into the fold?’
She was struck again by the strangeness of her sister, the difference in her. Dana wore black, a dress of simple lines and inlaid jet, at once relaxed and taut as a lute string. Her pale hands were folded over her belly, and her muddy dark hair was pulled back into a bun. The Black Guards halted behind her, waiting.
‘I am to escort you to the Queen’s chambers.’ Dana said simply. With that she turned and began to walk away along the balcony, to-wards a closed door at the throne-end of the hall. Sara frowned, hurry-ing after her.
‘Do the King and Queen not share chambers?’ She asked as they walked, and the hall below drew on beside them.
‘Their Majesties prefer… to keep their own space.’
The Black Guard fell into step at a respectful distance behind them, armoured heels clicking against the stone.
‘How many others are there?’
‘How many what?’
‘Handmaidens. How many does her Majesty keep?’
Dana did not break stride. ‘Two others, and the Matron.’
‘I suppose we shall not have servants of our own.’ Sara said quietly, eyeing the shadows shifting over the nightglass ceiling. ‘No need to spy on us when we are so close.’
‘Sara-’ Dana began, but Sara cut her off.
‘Father is gone, you know. This morning.’
‘I know.’ Dana replied, looking ahead.
‘You did not come to see him.’
Dana did not turn.
‘I’m sure he will miss you terribly, sister.’
Sara bristled suddenly, grabbing her sister’s arm.
‘I did not ask for it!’
Dana looked down at the hand on her arm, frowning. ‘What?’
‘Any of it!’ Sara told her, angry now, her whisper cracking. ‘I didn’t ask to stay. I didn’t ask him to send you away. I would have given any-thing to go with you. I thought he would never let me leave.’ She low-ered her voice, flicking an eye back towards the waiting guards. ‘I did not ask for the way he… the way he…’
She took a breath, swallowing, and straightened, looking her sister in the eye.
‘There are worse things than being ignored, Dana.’
Dana’s hand folded over hers.
‘Let’s… let’s put it behind us.’ She said quietly. ‘You are here, now.’
Sara blinked at her, nodding. She wanted to say more, but her words would not come, locked away from her tongue by the choked gulping of her breath. She lowered her eyes, and Dana squeezed her hand.
‘Sara, listen to me.’ Dana murmured, leaning close. ‘You must be careful. The Queen-’
The door at the far end of the gallery swung open, creaking on its hinges. The pair fell silent, frozen, and whatever Dana might have said, she held instead.
*
‘Wait here.’
The Matron, the head of the Queen’s Keepers, was an elderly wom-an with rounding hips and hair the colour of ash tied into a tight bun behind the worn-leather creases of her forehead. She was wearing black, same as Dana, though her smock was somehow plainer, when she opened the door onto the gallery, ushering the sisters wordlessly in-to the corridor beyond. Dana had bowed her head deferentially, wither-ing under the Matron’s hard eyes, and quickly disappeared into one of the many doors of the hallway. Sara almost asked for her to stay, but instead she steeled herself, remembering her lessons, and followed the stern old woman down the long, flickering hallway. The corridors of the keep were all severe, all lit by weak, flickering torchlight and gleaming the gleam of cold stone, but here they were particularly bare. There were no busts, no tapestries, no mosaics. Nothing but cold, dead rock, lent a little life by the dim thrustings of infrequent braziers. In her own apartments, she had understood the quiet, but here, in the keep proper, there was an eery silence to the corridors that jarred with Sara’s anticipation. Where were the nobles in their gay clothes, where was the music and laughter of a King’s Hall? Sara frowned to herself, and kept walking.
The room at the end of the hallway was broad and rounded, like a kind of circle made out of many flat edges, each holding the low light of a brazier. The marble floors were black and white and patterned like a gamesboard, empty but for a broad nightwood table at its centre, matching the room itself for its odd roundness. On the far side, a wall of shutters opened out onto a large, bare balcony, and over the intricate-ly wrought stone balustrade, Sara could see the City of the Moon be-low, sweeping away towards the edge of the Heartspire, empty stormtowers stabbing black into the sky. Beyond, the great emerald plains of Valia stretched out into the west, past the fiery line of the river Arq, scored with jagged, dark rock and silver streams. Sara swallowed, realising she’d never been so high up.
‘Wait here.’
‘But-‘ She protested, frowning, but the Matron was already gone, turned on her heel and disappeared back the way she had come. Sara flinched as the door slammed shut behind her, and the silence of the room prickled at her skin. The breeze rustled over the balcony, swirling about the pillared windows, but the air inside was still as the grave. She stepped slowly over to the table, touching the polished wood. This much nightwood would have cost more than a wagonload of gold. She traced the knotted lines across the black surface, trying to ignore the cold weight churning in her gut.
Time stretched on around her, and the minutes dragged by like years. Despite the open air flooding through the windows, the chamber was not cool, warmed by the subtle glow of the braziers, and she felt a little wetness beginning to build under her arms. She looked about her-self, trying to calm her heart. There were four other doors in the room, besides the one they had entered through, all dark and heavy looking, and each bore a pattern of silver on its face. There was a cradle, and opposite it, a pendant with teeth like a wolf. Beside the cradle door, a small drinks table, a glass jug of purple wine atop it, with a pair of matching glasses. The two doors closest to the balcony bore a sun and a crescent moon. She looked a little closer, and realised that the markings were not moonsilver, merely an imitation in gleaming silver paint, and the door she had entered through bore no markings at all. Sara watched them, imagining the rooms that lay behind each. Which one was the Queen behind, she wondered, and her heart quickened at the thought, stomach churning. She was stranded, here, now, in the capital. What if the Queen didn’t like her? What if she said something wrong? Would she be sent away again, back to her father?
‘Lady Westmere.’
The crescent moon had swung open, and the Queen glided through, a beautiful shadow in a studded black dress, arms glistening with little sharpened sequins the colour of midnight. Her hair had been contorted into an elaborate maze of raven curls over her pate, and her pale skin took on a translucent sheen in the pale light from the balcony doors. The throat of her dress was open, as it had been in the King’s Hall all those days ago, and she wore the same golden necklace, its myriad points sharp like daggers with their drops of ruby blood.
Sara blinked, then remembered herself, and dropped into a low curt-sy, bowing her head.
‘Your Majesty.’ She said quietly, keeping her eyes on the floor.
The Queen did not reply. Sara was dimly aware of her shadow mov-ing across the floor, crossing to the drinks table beside the cradle door. Sara risked a glance up, then, and found the Queen’s slender back to her. When she at last turned, she had a glass goblet of wine clutched in her narrow fingers. Sara lowered her eyes again.
‘You are a pretty one, aren’t you.’ The Queen said quietly, as if to herself. Her voice was cold, like ice leaking over lakewater, deep and still. She took a sip from her cup, and Sara could feel the cut of her eyes against her skin. ‘What did the Weasel of Westmere do to sire such a pretty daughter. Your sister, maybe, I understand, but you…’
Sara forced herself not to frown.
‘Well trained, I see.’ The Queen murmured, smiling coldly. She took another sip of her wine. ‘Your mother’s touch, I assume, not your fa-ther’s.’
Sara hesitated. She glanced up at the Queen, then lowered her eyes again, nodding.
‘I hear she is unwell.’
Sara looked up again, braver this time, and found the Queen’s dark eyes watching her over the rim of her glass.
‘She has an affliction, Your Majesty. She does not eat, and rarely sleeps. The Keepers say it is a disease of her mind.’
‘The one thing none of us can escape.’ The Queen sighed, toying idly with her glass and looking out of the window over the city below. ‘Still, there are worse places to be sickly than a Lord’s hall.’
‘I suppose… I suppose that is true, Your Majesty.’
The Queen raised an eyebrow. ‘Suppose, do you?’
Sara squirmed for a moment under the weight of her eyes, but then the Queen turned away, stepping slowly around the edge of the table till she was standing beside the open windows. She took another sip of her wine, back to Sara again.
‘Your sister met you, this morning.’
Sara hesitated, thrown for a moment by the abruptness of the state-ment.
‘Yes, Your Majesty.’
‘And she came to you yesterday, in the apartments Bywood found for you.’
‘Yes.’ Sara felt the cold weight return in her belly. She thought of what the Fox had warned her. There is always someone watching. She cast her mind back to her conversations with Dana. Gods. What had they spoken of? Had she said something out of turn?
‘Curious, that she did not seek out your father.’
Sara let out her breath slowly. That was not a particularly well-hidden curiosity.
‘Dana must have been very busy, Your Majesty.’
‘She is as busy as I make her, and that is rarely too taxing.’
Sara sighed. ‘They have… sometimes not seen eye to eye.’
‘And you?’ The Queen turned as she spoke, fixing her eyes to Sara’s again. Behind her, the distant sounds of the city drifted lazily up through the air, swirling around far-off columns of wispy smoke. ‘What do you say of him?’
Sara hesitated again, stuttering. ‘He is my father, Your Majesty. I trust that he always knows what is best for his daughters.’
‘In my experience it is fathers who know the least about their own daughters.’ The Queen replied dryly, sipping again. ‘Come, let me look at you, then.’
She came back around the nightwood table, her long, narrow limbs gliding over the polished floor, and stopped in front of Sara, setting her glass down beside them. She took Sara’s chin in two spindly fingers and tilted it upwards so that she was looking her in the eye, only a few inches from her face. Sara realised again how tall she was, as tall as her father, at least, though her slender frame made her seem much smaller. She tried not to squirm, but she found that the Queen’s fingers dug un-comfortably into her chin, dark eyes flitting back and forth across her face like a hungry wolf.
‘Yes, very pretty.’ She said at last, not releasing her chin. Sara could feel her breath on her face, smelling softly of dark wine. ‘No wonder. You look like her, you know.’
‘Who-‘ but the Queen had already turned away, back to the table, picking up her wineglass in one bone-stretched hand.
‘The Matron will meet you outside. She will give you your tasks and show you to your chamber. You will begin tomorrow.’
Sara flinched, realising she had been holding her breath. She curt-sied to the Queen’s back, suddenly a little giddy.
‘Thank you, Your Majesty.’
‘You may go, girl.’
Sara turned to go, not at all sure what to make of the encounter. She paused at the door, looking back over her shoulder, but found the Queen looking out over the city silently again, wineglass in hand, black dress glistening with jet. Sara hesitated a moment longer, then hurried out into the corridor beyond the unmarked door, closing it behind her.
*
The night before her father leaves, she wakes in darkness.
She does not open her eyes, but she knows it is not yet dawn. The sounds of the garden beyond her shutters are soft and murmuring, wind-stirred and drip-spotted.
She can feel him over her, the tense stillness of him, closer than shadows. He smells of wine. Sweat. She is cold, but she does not move. She dares not move. She can feel the weight of his eyes, dulled with drink, tracing the lines of her. His breathing sounds like anger.
She does not know how long she waits there, frozen. But she does not open her eyes. Not once. Time stretches out before her in that mo-ment, an eternity of breathless terror.
Then he leaves. The smell of him lingers long after the door has closed behind him. She lays there a while longer, motionless, dead as stone. Then she curls into her own arms, and weeps silently until the dawn.
2023.05.29 17:32 immacamel Defending the Draft: 2023 Green Bay Packers
A new era is under way in Green Bay, and there's a lot to cover about this offseason. First, let's set the stage.
Key Signings:
KR Keisean Nixon- the return dynamo who renewed my will to live after watching Amari Rodgers play football. Signed again on a 1 year deal worth up to $4m. And he figures to have a larger role on defense this season. This was one of the biggest wishes for packer fans this offseason, as it finally shows a dedication to building the ST unit.
S Rudy Ford- he had himself a nice 2022 and got re-signed for his efforts. It's a one year deal, and he will compete for the starting safety spot as of now.
CB Corey Ballentine- a reserve CB who I will always have a soft spot for due to his tragic draft night story. Ballentine has been re-signed and will compete for snaps in an unsettled secondary.
S Dallin Leavitt- a Rich Bisaccia re-signing. Leavitt was a quiet killer last season as a special teams ace, and he returns in that role this season.
OT Yosh Nijman- a developmental prospect that has blossomed into an serviceable swing tackle, I thought Nijman would get more on the open market than his RFA tender price. He will be back with the Pack in a LT2 and RT2 role for 2023.
Key Departures:
DT Dean Lowry- Lowry gave the Pack his best and we appreciate him, but his ceiling was evident and achieved. Devonte Wyatt was drafted as a high upside replacement. Lowry signed with the Vikings on a 2 year deal.
WR Allen Lazard- Aaron Rodgers's latest security blanket, Lazard is rejoining Rodgers on a 4y, 44m deal with the New York Jets. A quiet, consistent performer for the Packers throughout his tenure, Lazard will continue to be a sure-handed possession receiver in New York, transforming the slot position previously occupied by Elijah Moore into more of a big slot. He will also continue to mug people in the run game.
TE Robert Tonyan- Bobby Tonyan heads south to Chicago to be TE2 behind Cole Kmet. Packer fans love Tonyan for bringing pride back to the position in GB, and I honestly feel bad for him. He likely missed on his chance for a big pay day after tearing his ACL in 2021 and having a down year coming back. Now he's pushing 30, but he still provides excellent hands for the position and a great work ethic. Godspeed, buddy.
DL Jarran Reed- the big man returns to Seattle this season on a 2 year deal. Reed was just about what we expected in Green Bay- not great, not bad. He was a placeholder in a spot that Wyatt hopefully can take over.
Free Agents yet to be signed:
WR Randall Cobb, S Adrian Amos, TE Marcedes Lewis, K Mason Crosby
All members of the old guard. Cobb recently had surgery, and is a contender to rejoin Rodgers in NY. Amos had a down year, but could still have some left in the tank. I'm guessing he has an offer from GB and is weighing his options. Lewis also could be weighing his options between retirement, the Jets, or sailing into the sunset where it all began for him in Jacksonville. Mason Crosbys wife seemed to confirm on social media recently that the Packers have little interest in re-signing their all time leading scorer. Crosby made some clutch kicks for us over the years, and if this is the end, the Silver Fox will never have to buy a beer in Titletown again.
2022 season review: Record: 8-9 Oh man. 2022 was the year it all came crashing down. Green Bay tried to keep its veteran core together for a few years, appeasing Rodgers and navigating the salary cap reasonably well. But they never achieved that brass ring. Minus Davante Adams and working with a broken thumb, Rodgers struggled the most he has since his inaugural season as a starter. It's now time to address Rodgers in this post; I could write an entire entry solely on Rodgers and this past season, but I'll leave it at this: Aaron is my favorite football player of all time. He led the Packers to their greatest stretch of sustained excellence since Vince Lombardi roamed the sidelines, often with depleted rosters around him. In my opinion, hes the most talented QB to play the game. It seems a majority of Packer fans were ready to move on from the man and soured on him this offseason. Personally, I think he will be an MVP contender in NY next year and still love him. But it was time. The Jordan Love era needs to happen, if only for the front office itself needing to justify their faith in the Love pick. Rodgers and the Packers were operating on different timelines the past few years, stuck somewhere between going all in and resetting. The front office has put all their chips in on Jordan Love.
The defense was expected to be a top 5 unit, but regressed heavily. Joe Barry was under scrutiny all year long, seemingly incapable of putting his plethora of first rounders in positions to succeed. A late season push did just enough to save his job (apparently).
Favorite win: Dallas Most frustrating loss: Detroit, week 18
Rodgers's exit also raises an interesting thought: will we see the True Matt LaFleur Offense this season? Offensive deficiencies have been blamed on Lafleur himself or Rodgers's hesitancy at transitioning from a traditional west coast offense to a Shanahan-esque, motion based attack. The answer will be uncovered this year, with Jordan Love having 3 years of experience in the scheme and a first round pedigree. As a Love truther in the pre draft season who hated the pick for the Packers, I am fascinated. This pick will make or break Gute's and Lafleur's tenure.
Aside from the quarterback situation, there are lingering questions concerning LaFleur's ability to lead the team in general. The Packers have consistently laid an egg in one game every season of his tenure and have come up short in the playoffs, with some head scratching decisions rearing their head in crunch time of big games (the end of the Bucs NFC championship the most glaring). I also have questions on his staff hirings/retentions. LaFleur hired 2 dogshit ST coordinators before making the obvious choice of Basaccia. He also chose to retain Joe Barry, noted football terrorist, as defensive coordinator. I've read rumblings that Gute has more say over the staff than the head coach, which is unconfirmed but concerning. I don't mean to dump on LaFleur in this piece, only to emphasize how big of a year this is for him. I think his scheme is sound and the guys play hard for him. With Rodgers gone, I think we see less RPOs and inside zone handoffs to AJ Dillon out of shotgun. The offense will have more identity. But if there are 2 more years without the playoffs in Green Bay, the Cheeseheads will advocate for a new coach.
2023 Draft:
Positions of need: S, TE, WR, DT
Round 1, Pick 13: Lukas Van Ness, Edge, Iowa With the world expecting Jaxon Smith-Njigba, Gute stuck true to his type and drafted athletic freak LVN out of Iowa. Van Ness profiles as a Rashan Gary clone, with a high RAS score and unrefined repertoire of pass rush moves. If he works out like Gary, this is a massive hit. In the pre draft process, the only guy who could have realistically been there for GB that I had above Van Ness was Peter Skoronski. He wasn't there, and there was no doubt in my mind Gute was going for LVN afterwards. He'll rotate with Gary and Preston Smith this year, and will kick inside on certain packages. He makes Smith expendable in the future.
Round 2, Pick 42: Luke Musgrave, TE, Oregon State Musgrave has the size and athleticism to be a game changer at tight end. His tape was short but encouraging. His biggest questions are durability and how he will develop, given his late breakout and immediate injury afterwards. My comparison to his playstyle was Travis Kelce, and if he can approach even 70% of Kelce's production in a season, this is a great pick. The biggest hole on the roster was TE, and I have a feeling Gute got the top one on his board.
Round 2, Pick 50: Jayden Reed, WR, Michigan State The process of this pick was nerve wracking. I was one of many fans pounding the table for Brian Branch, the S out of Alabama. When Gute traded down instead, I was telling friends I hoped he took Jayden Reed, and that's what happened. Reed is smaller receiver who plays bigger than his size on contested catches. He carried the Michigan State offense last year after Kenneth Walker jumped to the NFL. My comparison for him is Tyler Lockett. In Green Bay, Reed will take over the slot role, and I expect him to see around 60% of offensive snaps.
Round 3, Pick 78: Tucker Kraft, TE, South Dakota State Another tight end added to a barren room. The former Jackrabbit is similar to Musgrave in a lot of ways- big, athletic, and a willing albeit unrefined blocker. Kraft's addition along with Musgraves could push the Packers into more 22 personal this season, something LaFleur wants to run but hasnt had the personnel for, and I would not be surprised to see him outsnap Musgrave if he develops quickly. I'm really hoping this is the pick that breaks Green Bays 3rd round curse (seriously look it up its so bad).
Round 4, Pick 116: Colby Wooden, Edge, Auburn A former 4 star recruit at Auburn, Wooden collected 17 sacks as a 3 year starter in the SEC and showed inside/outside versatility. He shows an ability to rush with speed and power, but is inconsistent in his pad level and technique. He anchors well in the run game and showed great gap discipline. I don't see him getting many snaps this year, but if he does I think he takes Kingsley Engabare's role on run downs.
Round 5, Pick 149: Sean Clifford, QB, Penn State A perplexing pick until I saw this man somehow has a 9 RAS. Clifford is an experienced college starter who plays with a clear understanding of his role and a passion for the game. My issues with him were accuracy, arm strength, pocket presence, and decision making. You know, playing quarterback. I did not give Clifford a draftable grade and would have preferred Jaren Hall or Max Duggan. But this is really nit picking over a 5th round pick who was drafted to be a career backup. If the staff sees something in him, I'll give it a chance.
Round 5, Pick 159: Dontayvion Wicks, WR, Virginia A 6'1, 206 lb vertical threat, Wicks was inconsistent in his career at Virginia. If he replicated his 2021 production last year, he might have found himself as a day 2 pick. Alas, a new offense and drops led to his availability at this spot. Wicks has a good release package and the ability to stack DBs and get vertical. His tendencies as a body catcher led to drops last year, and he doesn't provide much after the catch. With his profile, he'll be a WR4/5, but could be a special teams ace very early in his career.
Round 6, Pick 179: Karl Brooks, DL, Bowling Green A bit of a tweener, Brooks is a high motor, high effort pass rusher. He flashes great technique and seems to rush with a plan. He can get washed out in the run game, and will need to commit one way or another to defensive end or defensive tackle. He graded very high from PFF, so that's something. To get on the field, he'll have to show more consistency and ability when anchoring down in the run game.
Round 6, Pick 207: Anders Carlson, K, Auburn Apparently, Mason Crosby's replacement. Anders is the brother of Las Vegas kicker Daniel Carlson, who's pretty damn good. There is a connection with Basaccia there, who's known Anders since high school. I wasn't encouraged by his stats at Auburn, but I'm not going to pretend to be an expert in scouting kickers. If Basaccia says he's that dude, then that dude he is.
Round 7, Pick 232: Carrington Valentine, CB, Kentucky Valentine is a WR convert with a long, slender frame. He is at his best in press man, where he has a variety of ways to get hands on the receiver and reroute him. Unfortunately for Vallentine, Joe Barry hates press man and will kill my family if I suggest it again. Valentine's frame can lead him to get bullied by bigger WRs at times, but he is physical at the catch point. He also brings experience as a productive kick returner, something that could be helpful in the future or even this season if the staff wants to keep Nixon fresh for defensive snaps.
Round 7, Pick 235: Lew Nichols, RB, Central Michigan A big back with some intriguing traits, Nichols enjoyed a very productive 2021 before injuries hampered his 2022. Nichols has good vision, contact balance, and power as a north-south runner. He was productive catching out of the backfield, but wasn't asked to run many routes beyond that. His biggest hurdles in the NFL are going to be elusiveness and speed. He lacks both, but should be a decent backup. For the Packers, they used their RB3 less than maybe any team in the league last year. This will be the Jones&Dillon show again in 2023.
Round 7, Pick 242: Anthony Johnson Jr, S, Iowa State Johnson Jr is a converted cornerback who plays with rare physicality for someone of that description. He did his best work in the box or in the slot at Iowa State, and that may be where the Pack will try to get him some snaps this year. He can be over aggressive in his pursuits at times and take bad angles, but that is coachable. Given the state of the safety room, the 7th round rookie may find himself starting some games this season.
Round 7, Pick 256: Grant DuBose, WR, Charlotte DuBose comes from UNC Charlotte, where there apparently is a football team, and he was 2nd team all C-USA last season. DuBose has excellent size at 6'2, and I love his agility on in-breaking routes crossing the face of safeties. He has experience both outside and in the slot, and is an interesting addition to the WR battle at the bottom of the roster, which is going to be highly competitive. It may come down to how good he can be on special teams. Coaches and teammates rave about his work ethic and love of football, and he worked at Walmart while keeping himself in shape during the Covid year. I'm optimistic he can carve out a role for himself and make the team.
Overall, Gutekunst drafted for need at times in this draft, but still stuck to picking guys that fit his type: big, athletic, and versatile. My biggest shock was not taking a safety until the 7th round, but I think it just never lined up with his board. There was an obvious effort to surround Love with talented pass catchers, which is a breath of fresh air from this team. I was surprised that they didn't take a single offensive linemen, given this is almost certainly Bakh's last year in the green and gold and question marks surrounding some of our young guys, but we drafted 3 linemen last year and the staff may have high hopes for Zach Tom to be the next left tackle. The franchise has earned the benefit of the doubt when it comes to scouting and developing OL.
All told, 2023 is the most excited I've been for a Packer season in a few years. There are so many unknown variables surrounding the team, from Jordan Loves development to LaFleur's offense to Joe Barry's pending glue eating scandal. Media pundits have them ranked somewhere between 20 & 26 in the league hierarchy heading into the year. Personally, I'm a little higher on the Pack, and they will shoot up these rankings if Jordan Love delivers. There's a lot on Love's shoulders. This is the season we've been waiting for with baited breath for 3 years, the post-Rodgers era, and now it's here, for better or worse.
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Key Signings:
KR Keisean Nixon- the return dynamo who renewed my will to live after watching Amari Rodgers play football. Signed again on a 1 year deal worth up to $4m. And he figures to have a larger role on defense this season. This was one of the biggest wishes for packer fans this offseason, as it finally shows a dedication to building the ST unit.
S Rudy Ford- he had himself a nice 2022 and got re-signed for his efforts. It's a one year deal, and he will compete for the starting safety spot as of now.
CB Corey Ballentine- a reserve CB who I will always have a soft spot for due to his tragic draft night story. Ballentine has been re-signed and will compete for snaps in an unsettled secondary.
S Dallin Leavitt- a Rich Bisaccia re-signing. Leavitt was a quiet killer last season as a special teams ace, and he returns in that role this season.
OT Yosh Nijman- a developmental prospect that has blossomed into an serviceable swing tackle, I thought Nijman would get more on the open market than his RFA tender price. He will be back with the Pack in a LT2 and RT2 role for 2023.
Key Departures:
DT Dean Lowry- Lowry gave the Pack his best and we appreciate him, but his ceiling was evident and achieved. Devonte Wyatt was drafted as a high upside replacement. Lowry signed with the Vikings on a 2 year deal.
WR Allen Lazard- Aaron Rodgers's latest security blanket, Lazard is rejoining Rodgers on a 4y, 44m deal with the New York Jets. A quiet, consistent performer for the Packers throughout his tenure, Lazard will continue to be a sure-handed possession receiver in New York, transforming the slot position previously occupied by Elijah Moore into more of a big slot. He will also continue to mug people in the run game.
TE Robert Tonyan- Bobby Tonyan heads south to Chicago to be TE2 behind Cole Kmet. Packer fans love Tonyan for bringing pride back to the position in GB, and I honestly feel bad for him. He likely missed on his chance for a big pay day after tearing his ACL in 2021 and having a down year coming back. Now he's pushing 30, but he still provides excellent hands for the position and a great work ethic. Godspeed, buddy.
DL Jarran Reed- the big man returns to Seattle this season on a 2 year deal. Reed was just about what we expected in Green Bay- not great, not bad. He was a placeholder in a spot that Wyatt hopefully can take over.
Free Agents yet to be signed:
WR Randall Cobb, S Adrian Amos, TE Marcedes Lewis, K Mason Crosby
All members of the old guard. Cobb recently had surgery, and is a contender to rejoin Rodgers in NY. Amos had a down year, but could still have some left in the tank. I'm guessing he has an offer from GB and is weighing his options. Lewis also could be weighing his options between retirement, the Jets, or sailing into the sunset where it all began for him in Jacksonville. Mason Crosbys wife seemed to confirm on social media recently that the Packers have little interest in re-signing their all time leading scorer. Crosby made some clutch kicks for us over the years, and if this is the end, the Silver Fox will never have to buy a beer in Titletown again.
2022 season review: Record: 8-9 Oh man. 2022 was the year it all came crashing down. Green Bay tried to keep its veteran core together for a few years, appeasing Rodgers and navigating the salary cap reasonably well. But they never achieved that brass ring. Minus Davante Adams and working with a broken thumb, Rodgers struggled the most he has since his inaugural season as a starter. It's now time to address Rodgers in this post; I could write an entire entry solely on Rodgers and this past season, but I'll leave it at this: Aaron is my favorite football player of all time. He led the Packers to their greatest stretch of sustained excellence since Vince Lombardi roamed the sidelines, often with depleted rosters around him. In my opinion, hes the most talented QB to play the game. It seems a majority of Packer fans were ready to move on from the man and soured on him this offseason. Personally, I think he will be an MVP contender in NY next year and still love him. But it was time. The Jordan Love era needs to happen, if only for the front office itself needing to justify their faith in the Love pick. Rodgers and the Packers were operating on different timelines the past few years, stuck somewhere between going all in and resetting. The front office has put all their chips in on Jordan Love.
The defense was expected to be a top 5 unit, but regressed heavily. Joe Barry was under scrutiny all year long, seemingly incapable of putting his plethora of first rounders in positions to succeed. A late season push did just enough to save his job (apparently).
Favorite win: Dallas Most frustrating loss: Detroit, week 18
Rodgers's exit also raises an interesting thought: will we see the True Matt LaFleur Offense this season? Offensive deficiencies have been blamed on Lafleur himself or Rodgers's hesitancy at transitioning from a traditional west coast offense to a Shanahan-esque, motion based attack. The answer will be uncovered this year, with Jordan Love having 3 years of experience in the scheme and a first round pedigree. As a Love truther in the pre draft season who hated the pick for the Packers, I am fascinated. This pick will make or break Gute's and Lafleur's tenure.
Aside from the quarterback situation, there are lingering questions concerning LaFleur's ability to lead the team in general. The Packers have consistently laid an egg in one game every season of his tenure and have come up short in the playoffs, with some head scratching decisions rearing their head in crunch time of big games (the end of the Bucs NFC championship the most glaring). I also have questions on his staff hirings/retentions. LaFleur hired 2 dogshit ST coordinators before making the obvious choice of Basaccia. He also chose to retain Joe Barry, noted football terrorist, as defensive coordinator. I've read rumblings that Gute has more say over the staff than the head coach, which is unconfirmed but concerning. I don't mean to dump on LaFleur in this piece, only to emphasize how big of a year this is for him. I think his scheme is sound and the guys play hard for him. With Rodgers gone, I think we see less RPOs and inside zone handoffs to AJ Dillon out of shotgun. The offense will have more identity. But if there are 2 more years without the playoffs in Green Bay, the Cheeseheads will advocate for a new coach.
2023 Draft:
Positions of need: S, TE, WR, DT
Round 1, Pick 13: Lukas Van Ness, Edge, Iowa With the world expecting Jaxon Smith-Njigba, Gute stuck true to his type and drafted athletic freak LVN out of Iowa. Van Ness profiles as a Rashan Gary clone, with a high RAS score and unrefined repertoire of pass rush moves. If he works out like Gary, this is a massive hit. In the pre draft process, the only guy who could have realistically been there for GB that I had above Van Ness was Peter Skoronski. He wasn't there, and there was no doubt in my mind Gute was going for LVN afterwards. He'll rotate with Gary and Preston Smith this year, and will kick inside on certain packages. He makes Smith expendable in the future.
Round 2, Pick 42: Luke Musgrave, TE, Oregon State Musgrave has the size and athleticism to be a game changer at tight end. His tape was short but encouraging. His biggest questions are durability and how he will develop, given his late breakout and immediate injury afterwards. My comparison to his playstyle was Travis Kelce, and if he can approach even 70% of Kelce's production in a season, this is a great pick. The biggest hole on the roster was TE, and I have a feeling Gute got the top one on his board.
Round 2, Pick 50: Jayden Reed, WR, Michigan State The process of this pick was nerve wracking. I was one of many fans pounding the table for Brian Branch, the S out of Alabama. When Gute traded down instead, I was telling friends I hoped he took Jayden Reed, and that's what happened. Reed is smaller receiver who plays bigger than his size on contested catches. He carried the Michigan State offense last year after Kenneth Walker jumped to the NFL. My comparison for him is Tyler Lockett. In Green Bay, Reed will take over the slot role, and I expect him to see around 60% of offensive snaps.
Round 3, Pick 78: Tucker Kraft, TE, South Dakota State Another tight end added to a barren room. The former Jackrabbit is similar to Musgrave in a lot of ways- big, athletic, and a willing albeit unrefined blocker. Kraft's addition along with Musgraves could push the Packers into more 22 personal this season, something LaFleur wants to run but hasnt had the personnel for, and I would not be surprised to see him outsnap Musgrave if he develops quickly. I'm really hoping this is the pick that breaks Green Bays 3rd round curse (seriously look it up its so bad).
Round 4, Pick 116: Colby Wooden, Edge, Auburn A former 4 star recruit at Auburn, Wooden collected 17 sacks as a 3 year starter in the SEC and showed inside/outside versatility. He shows an ability to rush with speed and power, but is inconsistent in his pad level and technique. He anchors well in the run game and showed great gap discipline. I don't see him getting many snaps this year, but if he does I think he takes Kingsley Engabare's role on run downs.
Round 5, Pick 149: Sean Clifford, QB, Penn State A perplexing pick until I saw this man somehow has a 9 RAS. Clifford is an experienced college starter who plays with a clear understanding of his role and a passion for the game. My issues with him were accuracy, arm strength, pocket presence, and decision making. You know, playing quarterback. I did not give Clifford a draftable grade and would have preferred Jaren Hall or Max Duggan. But this is really nit picking over a 5th round pick who was drafted to be a career backup. If the staff sees something in him, I'll give it a chance.
Round 5, Pick 159: Dontayvion Wicks, WR, Virginia A 6'1, 206 lb vertical threat, Wicks was inconsistent in his career at Virginia. If he replicated his 2021 production last year, he might have found himself as a day 2 pick. Alas, a new offense and drops led to his availability at this spot. Wicks has a good release package and the ability to stack DBs and get vertical. His tendencies as a body catcher led to drops last year, and he doesn't provide much after the catch. With his profile, he'll be a WR4/5, but could be a special teams ace very early in his career.
Round 6, Pick 179: Karl Brooks, DL, Bowling Green A bit of a tweener, Brooks is a high motor, high effort pass rusher. He flashes great technique and seems to rush with a plan. He can get washed out in the run game, and will need to commit one way or another to defensive end or defensive tackle. He graded very high from PFF, so that's something. To get on the field, he'll have to show more consistency and ability when anchoring down in the run game.
Round 6, Pick 207: Anders Carlson, K, Auburn Apparently, Mason Crosby's replacement. Anders is the brother of Las Vegas kicker Daniel Carlson, who's pretty damn good. There is a connection with Basaccia there, who's known Anders since high school. I wasn't encouraged by his stats at Auburn, but I'm not going to pretend to be an expert in scouting kickers. If Basaccia says he's that dude, then that dude he is.
Round 7, Pick 232: Carrington Valentine, CB, Kentucky Valentine is a WR convert with a long, slender frame. He is at his best in press man, where he has a variety of ways to get hands on the receiver and reroute him. Unfortunately for Vallentine, Joe Barry hates press man and will kill my family if I suggest it again. Valentine's frame can lead him to get bullied by bigger WRs at times, but he is physical at the catch point. He also brings experience as a productive kick returner, something that could be helpful in the future or even this season if the staff wants to keep Nixon fresh for defensive snaps.
Round 7, Pick 235: Lew Nichols, RB, Central Michigan A big back with some intriguing traits, Nichols enjoyed a very productive 2021 before injuries hampered his 2022. Nichols has good vision, contact balance, and power as a north-south runner. He was productive catching out of the backfield, but wasn't asked to run many routes beyond that. His biggest hurdles in the NFL are going to be elusiveness and speed. He lacks both, but should be a decent backup. For the Packers, they used their RB3 less than maybe any team in the league last year. This will be the Jones&Dillon show again in 2023.
Round 7, Pick 242: Anthony Johnson Jr, S, Iowa State Johnson Jr is a converted cornerback who plays with rare physicality for someone of that description. He did his best work in the box or in the slot at Iowa State, and that may be where the Pack will try to get him some snaps this year. He can be over aggressive in his pursuits at times and take bad angles, but that is coachable. Given the state of the safety room, the 7th round rookie may find himself starting some games this season.
Round 7, Pick 256: Grant DuBose, WR, Charlotte DuBose comes from UNC Charlotte, where there apparently is a football team, and he was 2nd team all C-USA last season. DuBose has excellent size at 6'2, and I love his agility on in-breaking routes crossing the face of safeties. He has experience both outside and in the slot, and is an interesting addition to the WR battle at the bottom of the roster, which is going to be highly competitive. It may come down to how good he can be on special teams. Coaches and teammates rave about his work ethic and love of football, and he worked at Walmart while keeping himself in shape during the Covid year. I'm optimistic he can carve out a role for himself and make the team.
Overall, Gutekunst drafted for need at times in this draft, but still stuck to picking guys that fit his type: big, athletic, and versatile. My biggest shock was not taking a safety until the 7th round, but I think it just never lined up with his board. There was an obvious effort to surround Love with talented pass catchers, which is a breath of fresh air from this team. I was surprised that they didn't take a single offensive linemen, given this is almost certainly Bakh's last year in the green and gold and question marks surrounding some of our young guys, but we drafted 3 linemen last year and the staff may have high hopes for Zach Tom to be the next left tackle. The franchise has earned the benefit of the doubt when it comes to scouting and developing OL.
All told, 2023 is the most excited I've been for a Packer season in a few years. There are so many unknown variables surrounding the team, from Jordan Loves development to LaFleur's offense to Joe Barry's pending glue eating scandal. Media pundits have them ranked somewhere between 20 & 26 in the league hierarchy heading into the year. Personally, I'm a little higher on the Pack, and they will shoot up these rankings if Jordan Love delivers. There's a lot on Love's shoulders. This is the season we've been waiting for with baited breath for 3 years, the post-Rodgers era, and now it's here, for better or worse.
2023.05.29 17:30 Diane_Enthusiast The way I giggled 🤭
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2023.05.29 16:31 SleeplessFromSundown The Séance Club - The End of Windhaven Manor [Final]
This post is the final part of this story. Sorry it has taken so long to get through. And I'm not sure I even understand all of it yet. If you're new, this all started here. The previous part (Part 7) is here. Thank you to everyone who followed along.
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“Do you see her?” I asked in a meek voice.
“You mean that girl in black?” Harvey answered.
It was her, in the flesh. Her lips parted and formed a malevolent smile. Her dark eyes fixed on mine. My legs turned to solid lead. My feet refused to move. The anxiousness to reach Parker and Juliet and Beth in the cellar crumbled like the wood turning to ash behind us. She demanded my attention.
A hand rocked my shoulder. Harvey. I pushed him away.
“You have to go. Help them. I’ll take care of her.”
“What about you?”
“I’ll be right behind you.”
A mirage of Harvey flitted past Ally and disappeared into the kitchen. Everything blurred, everything but her.
She tilted her head to one side and bridged the gap between us with four slow and deliberate steps. She pushed her right hand out from a long sleeve and ran the black painted nail of her index finger across my cheek, the smooth lacquer cold against my skin. I shuddered as the chill spread like ice creeping up a window.
“It is such a shame to be losing you so soon. We’ve only just met, and yet I feel like we’ve known each other our whole lives. Do you feel it too?”
I shook my head. “Let me go.”
“We’re past that now Sam. I considered if we could coexist, you and I. It gave me a thrill knowing there is another one out there like me. But you insist on meddling with my work.”
“You mean locking all those girls in that filthy dungeon where they met their end? And Jane here.”
“The work is sometimes unpleasant.”
“But the pay is good?”
“This isn’t about money Sam. You and I are the same. The pain you felt from not fitting in. The lonely nights lying awake, wishing you could be like everyone else. The stares and the whispers. The rejection from those who are supposed to love us the most. I too know. But where you hid, I searched out a path where my talents were appreciated and rewarded. You don’t hate me Sam. You hate yourself for not thriving like I have.”
“Thriving? Is that what you call it?”
“By all measures yes. I am good at what I do. The best. The only. Or so I thought. And then there is you. A naïve, sheltered little boy who can barely put on his own pants in the morning. It is such a shame. And these so-called friends of yours, that was always doomed to failure. Oh and if you harbour any thoughts of them escaping, know that we blocked the little secret entrance the stable boy showed you. There’s no escape except through the fire. When they pick through the ashes of this building they will find their bones, and yours. Is this how you imagined it turning out?”
I flexed the muscles in my legs, but they refused to move. Ally smiled.
“It’s useless now Sam.”
I heard the faint whisper of Juliet’s voice in my head. She pleaded with me. Come on Sam, you can do this. I remembered the last encounter with Ally, outside the wall separating Windhaven Manor from the world. Ally had put me in the white room. I had broken free. I had overcome her power once. I had to do it again.
I took a deep breath in through my nose and cried out and willed my feet to move. Electricity coursed through my body and I directed it down to the floor. My left heel separated from the floor and that set the whole thing in motion. The dam burst. I lurched forwards and overbalanced and sprawled to the floor.
Ally crouched beside me and chuckled. “Some would call it a tragedy for a child to die so soon after learning to walk.”
I looked back towards the front of the house. The fire burned hot. Thick black smoke circled up the huge open space of the gallery. Portraits hanging on the wall bubbled and curled as flames consumed them.
A figure appeared at the foot of the staircase. The spectre of Crown. The goons had dragged his lifeless corpse out of the house, but stood before me was the spirit with unfinished business. The ugliness of his actions showed through now in death. His skin was sallow and wrinkled. His head too big for his body and his teeth yellowed. A grotesque monster made worse by his mortal demise.
Ally whispered in my ear. “He knows it was your meddling that brought about his end. I’ll leave you two alone.”
She brushed my cheek with the back of her hand and stood. As she walked away leather straps materialised out of thin air and pinned my body to the floor.
The spectre of Crown grew before me, swelling in size until he had to crouch to stay below the chandelier. He clenched his fists and with burning red eyes let out a guttural growl that skipped my ears and penetrated directly into my skull.
I tried to pull my hands to my ears but they would not come. It made no difference. The roar coming from Crown stabbed the inside of my head like a thousand daggers. I lifted my head and the growl grew to a scream that ricocheted around the inside of my skull. I couldn’t take much more. It felt as though my head would explode.
Guilt bubbled up and mingled with the fear and I shrank into the floor and wished for it to swallow me. They were down there, the only friends I had known, banging against a locked door denying their escape. I sobbed. I sobbed like I had the night my parents turned from me.
In the pit of my stomach something else grew. A seed of frustration born of a lifetime existing in a world that didn’t make sense. A world where I had no idea who I was and what I could or should do. A world in which I hid. I couldn’t do that now.
Juliet’s voice as clear as day, cutting through the racket of Crown’s scream. Do it Sam. I gritted my teeth and electricity buzzed somewhere deep inside, at first dull and imperceptible, and then amplified and resonating until it peaked into a deafening roar.
Above Crown the bulbs in the chandelier glowed white. He swivelled his head and watched them dumbly.
I concentrated, felt the energy forming an extra limb. Like the arms and legs of a newborn it flailed spasmodically. I fought to control it, to turn it to my will. I focussed on the straps pinning me to the floor. The electricity fed into the straps and turned them hot. For a moment I feared they would scold my skin, and then in a moment of release they split and flung upwards.
I picked myself up off the floor and faced the spectre of Crown. Like a spent boxer throwing one final punch I threw out my hands and screamed, willing Crown to be quiet and be still. Demanding he be so.
The floor shook. The dozens of bulbs in the chandelier shattered. The giant spectre of Crown diminished and the screaming inside my head softened until it was no more. Crown’s eyes opened wide as his mouth stitched together and his arms wrenched behind his back. I flicked my hand like I was swatting a fly and Crown flew into the corner of the room and slumped to the floor.
I bent over and rested my hands on my knees. My muscles ached, like I had run a marathon. Shadows played on the floor. I sucked in air and smoke and spluttered and coughed.
In the hallway the silhouette of Ally. She turned and shook her head. The heat of the fire intensified and crackled at my skin. If we were to make our escape, she could not be here to block us. I straightened and strode towards her.
I cycled furiously through the events of the last few days, searching for something to defeat Ally. I had to do to her what she had done to me. The time for running and breaking her spells was through.
I closed my eyes and concentrated. I stripped away everything except for the two of us. The crackle of the fire replaced with silence. The smell of the smoke disappeared. The heat washed away. One by one I shut down all my senses. When I opened my eyes a monotone room of white. Sterile calm had replaced the burning insides of Windhaven Manor.
Her eyes scanned the room and she giggled. “Cheap tricks won’t get you far,” she said. “And you learned this one from me.”
The white rippled as if the walls were made of water. She was fighting it. I concentrated, focussing all my energy, all my will. The ripples slowed and then stopped.
“You’re a fast learner,” she said. “But I have been doing this for more than a weekend.”
Strips of colour permeated the white. A rectangle of tile appeared on the floor. And then some blue from the curtain. Enough of a smouldering wall to let in some smoke. The acrid smell reached my nose and I spluttered. As each wedge of colour appeared, I filled it back in white. But it was a sinking ship and the pail I held to bail out the water would not be enough.
Ally grunted under her breath. A grunt of frustration. The white room shook and made a sound like a train bearing down.
I had to bind her. I raised my palm and coils of rope rose from the ground and oscillated like snakes around her. She swatted them away and wrenched them from the ground and flung them at my feet, limp and unmoving.
“It won’t be that easy,” she sneered.
My arms jerked behind my back. She bound my wrists and then my ankles. She pursed her lips and blew as if extinguishing a single candle on a birthday cake, and it was enough to send me to the floor. I couldn’t do this on my own. I needed help.
I shut my eyes and concentrated my energy not on my bindings, but on the woods at the back of Windhaven Manor. On the girls who escaped the dungeon and now roamed the forest, watching the house burn from behind the barrier Ally constructed.
I fed the energy coursing through my body into the giant snowdome structure until it burned hot and then like the globes in the chandelier, it cracked and exploded into the night sky. The spirits of the girls watched the shards disappear and then strode towards the Manor.
I turned my attention to the tiny room beside the pantry, where Jane Laughlin lay bound to the bed. I stood beside her and lay my hand on the shackles binding her to the bed. She shuddered as the mask came free from her mouth and then stood as the shackles broke.
I opened my eyes and the white of the room flickered off and then back on again like bad reception on a television. I had to keep the white walls up long enough for them to draw near. For them to be ready when the façade fell. Ally strode towards me, exuding confidence.
“You can’t beat me Sam.”
Ally squeezed her hands into fists and screamed. In a burst of energy she wiped the white room clear and we were back in the burning house. The air was thick with smoke. Behind me a timber beam tumbled from the ceiling and crashed to the floor. The heat and smoke sucked the moisture from my insides and I heaved out a series of coughs.
Ally opened her eyes and smiled. She had bested me. But then they came. The girls from the dungeon and Jane Laughlin surrounded her. The sum total off all the pain and hurt inflicted in this place. Everything Ally had worked to keep hidden from the world.
They lurched at Ally. She raised her hands and pushed them back one by one as they went for her. She spun on the spot, trying to keep them at bay. She could not hold them all back. The sheer weight of numbers overwhelmed. They leaned in and pushed their heads into hers and showed her what those men had done. Made her feel it. The fear and despair and anger of each individual stacked together and Ally crumpled to the floor holding her head.
“Make it stop,” she said.
They kept at her.
Jane Laughlin sidled over to the base of the stairs where Crown sat, bound and with his mouth stitched. She considered him, restrained and helpless on the floor as she had been. He fought with his restraints, and then whimpered, as she had. As I ran for the pantry and the wine cellar, the corridor filled with the muffled sound of his screams.
The door to the cellar stood open and I made the descent of the stairs in three leaps. The enclosed space already full with smoke. At the end of the long corridor leading outside, Parker and Harvey shouldered the door. Juliet and Beth screamed encouragement. The door would not budge.
“We can’t go that way,” I yelled.
They raced back up the long corridor. A sudden rush of emotion bubbled up to the surface. I was so happy to see them all still alive. My lower jaw rattled and my hands shook. I fought to hide it.
Beth reached me first. “Sam, you’re ok.”
I blubbered a response and took in a lung full of smoke. We had to get out.
The fire raged outside the kitchen door. A wave of flame climbed up and spread across the ceiling. A subtle cracking sound from above intensified and a chunk of the upstairs floor came crashing down through the ceiling, blocking the rear door. We couldn’t get out the back. The only way now was back through the house. A ball of flame whooshed through the doorway and I put my arm up too late, my eyebrows wilting in the heat.
We crouched together in the middle of the kitchen, lowering our heads to get the last of the remaining oxygen. Malicious red flames and choking black smoke surrounded us on all sides.
“Where do we go now?” Parker’s words came out between coughs. Tears streaked down his cheeks. Soot covered his brow. I wished I had an answer.
Then he was there, standing over Parker’s shoulder. Leon. With the protective bubble gone, he too was free to come in the Manor.
“The fire has not yet consumed the dining room. But you don’t have long.”
I looked vaguely in the direction of the kitchen door and blinked back the stinging from the smoke. “I don’t think we can find it in this.”
“Follow me.”
I pulled my shirt up over my head. “We have to go. The dining room, we can make it. All together on three.”
I shouted out the numbers, the sound drowned out by the roar of the fire. I grabbed Beth’s hand and yanked her into action. Leon led the way and I kept my eyes on his heels. Together we were a flurry of arms and legs bounding for the dining room. I gritted my teeth against the heat. We burst through the doorway and everything turned orange.
From below the sweater pulled tight down over my hair, I shot a glance over to the floor of the grand gallery where I had left Ally writhing on the floor. She was not there now. Nor were the spectres of the girls.
I followed Leon’s heels into the dining room. The great wooden table smouldered in the centre of the room. Brilliant orange flames consumed the thick curtains. Parker spotted his camera still atop the tripod and set to pulling the camera free before Harvey grabbed his arm and yelled something that sounded like ‘leave it’.
Harvey grabbed one of the heavy chairs with their high backs and velvet cushions and heaved it at the window in the back corner of the room. The chair disappeared into the darkness of the night and Harvey kicked at the glass shards left behind. Parker joined. We piled out the opening.
I drank in the fresh cool air of night, staggering over the narrow path beside the house and to the small strip of grass beyond. Parker collapsed beside me and pulled the laptop out from under his shirt. He tapped at the casing and for a moment a brief smile flashed across his face, but it did not last long. He wiped soot and sweat from his face with shaking hands.
Harvey checked us all in turn, like a parent fussing over their children. We had scrapes and bruises and our skin was red and raw, but we were alright. We had survived. He ran to the front of the house and came back with palms held out by his sides. The man in the black suit, the goons Ponytail and Beanie, and Ally were all gone, along with the black van and the BMW.
Huddled together, we watched the fire consume Windhaven Manor, bright reds and oranges lighting up the windows and thick black smoke tumbling into the purple haze of sky. It was almost morning, the horizon signalling the coming of the sun.
Leon stood apart on the grass. I went to him.
“Thank you for coming back for us.”
He shrugged. “It’s something. It isn’t enough to make up for the rest.”
“You saved our lives. And those girls, they had their chance to meet their tormentors. That’s something too.”
He nodded. “What happens now?”
I turned my head sideways. “I’m still learning how all this works.”
The red of the fire reflected in his eyes. “Me too. I might go for a walk in the woods. I always liked it out there.”
He glided across the lawn and entered the trees and was gone.
The sound of sirens fought with the crackle of the fire. The fire brigade and the police. I got to my feet and shuffled to the front of the Manor. The burnt out carcasses of our cars stood by the low height wall. Black soot smudged the stone façade above the windows and the doors.
By the oak tree on the ocean side of the house stood Jane Laughlin. She peered down into a hole dug at the base of the tree. A pale and withered hand poked up out of the dirt. Her hand. They had meant to remove the body, but had aborted the task and fled.
A fire truck appeared at the head of the driveway and then another. They sped down the gravel and came to a sliding stop. A lone police car followed. Harvey sidled over.
Jane looked to the horizon. Out on the cliff edge stood a figure in a red dress. She recognised her sister Kylie immediately and ran down the slope. The two sisters embraced in the first light of the sun. I turned to the whoosh of water through a hose from the fire trucks and when I turned back, the Laughlin sisters were gone.
The members of The Séance Club, which I now consider myself a part, sat together on the low-height stone wall as the firefighters extinguished the flames consuming Windhaven Manor. The house was quiet now. The nausea and vibration I had felt that first night replaced with calm.
The police stripped the compound clean for the best part of a week. They identified Kyle the sketch artist and Hugo from the teeth that survived the fire of the hovel built over the dungeon. Hugo’s wife lay on the back lawn where Beanie and Ponytail had left her. But as to specific evidence of the crimes that occurred, they could not find enough to put a case together.
The two fires and the disappearance of Crown made some headlines, but there wasn’t enough to hang anyone else. The police claimed publicly that there was no link between the fire at Windhaven Manor and the fire at the squalid residence over the back fence. At Harvey’s behest they searched the area with cadaver dogs for the remains of the girls, but they found nothing.
Parker turned his laptop over to the police. They identified the two goons, Ponytail and Beanie, low level thugs who had disappeared from the streets years earlier. Those in the know presumed them dead. It made tracing them almost impossible. Tracing their vehicles lead to a dead end.
The man in black the suit on the other hand might as well be a ghost. On him they found nothing. They have a face, but nothing else.
As for Ally, the girl somehow managed to always turn her face away from the cameras, as if she knew where they were.
I sat in a small room at the police station for three days with Harvey putting the pieces together. He showed me a photograph of an old and gaunt man with a bent back, the last owner of Windhaven Manor before it was sold after his death. He had to be the man with the bent back from the ceremony in the dungeon, but I could not be certain. I never saw his face. Of the faces I did see, we knew Crown and Kyle and Hugo, but the others were harder to pinpoint.
At the end of it all Harvey sighed. There was nothing more we could do. But we could rest on the knowledge that the key players in the ceremony were all now dead.
Questions nagged at me. Where was Ally and what was she doing? Would she try to find me? Who was she working for?
That was the biggest question of all. Who was at the top and pulling the strings? Harvey wasn’t giving up. He was a dog with a bone at the best of times, and now he had a taste of blood. He refused to go back to the police even after Crown’s departure, which he described as the removal of a cancerous limb.
Harvey called me after the dust settled on everything. I told him that the trail had gone cold and I had no idea where Ally was. For all I knew she had evaporated into thin air. Harvey thought it unlikely, and I agreed. He told me it was time for some old-fashioned detective work. The names of the goons would be a start.
And there was something else Harvey mentioned, something that I had almost forgotten. He had always believed that his investigation into the disappearance of the girls was the reason one of his colleagues was murdered. Crown confirmed as much in the bedroom right before he was shot. Harvey thinks there is something to it. Another thread to pull, and he has a hunch. For now he’s keeping his cards close to his chest until he has some proof. I almost pressed him on the issue but decided I’d rather put it all behind me.
The story made headlines in the local press for a while, but ultimately it fizzled into a non-story, quickly forgotten by a public with a short attention spans. We all waited for a reckoning from within the police ranks, but it never came. Harvey predicted that’s the way it would go, and he was proven right.
The one item they did recover was a gold necklace with a heart pendant. The necklace Jane Laughlin wore the night of her death. The police found it where the black van had parked. After a few days in the possession of the police, Harvey arranged to have the necklace released to the family of its former owner.
The following day Mr. and Mrs. Laughlin appeared on the local news, thanking the efforts of those who recovered the remains of their daughter. It was closure, though not the kind they had hoped for. Both their girls were dead.
A week later The Séance Club convened in Beth’s apartment. Parker and Juliet were already there when I arrived. It was cathartic to talk about the events at Windhaven Manor, to compare stories and scars. I guess that’s why they have the saying about a problem shared.
After a brief silence, Beth asked, “Are you going to talk to the parents of Jane and Kylie?”
I shook my head. “What will I tell them?”
“That their daughters found each other out by the cliff edge.”
“And what about the agony of their deaths? Should I tell them that too? Besides, it doesn’t feel right. None of this feels right to me yet. And what weight do my words hold over those of some Priest talking about how he knows their souls are at rest.”
“Because you really do know.”
I shrugged. “I can’t prove any of it.”
Truth was I had no idea how to integrate the things I could see and do into my life. From childhood all I had wanted was to be like everyone else. For people not to stare or whisper as I walked by. To find acceptance. Sitting with my three new friends at Beth’s tiny kitchen table, with our shared experience behind us, I finally had it. This could be the start of something.
Parker was already planning the next Séance Club trip. An abandoned farm up north with mysterious sightings going back centuries. Juliet was already on board. I told them to wait. I couldn’t jump back in right away.
I was the last to leave, Beth and I sipping mug after mug of coffee and sharing comfortable silence. When I sighed and told her I should go, she grabbed my arm.
“I’ve never had a real family, and then I found Juliet and Parker. The Séance Club became my family. Whatever happens we are there for each other. And we mean it when we say we want you to join.”
I thought about that all night, unable to sleep.
The next morning I called Parker.
An abandoned farm up north you say?
* * * *
I navigated to the narrow alley and checked the time. The Exchange should be open. It looked out of context in the Saturday morning light. No bright light spilling from the window. No surge of Friday night after work traffic.
I slipped in the front door. A lone man lifted upturned stools down from the bar. He had his back to me and I crept across the hardwood floor in the direction of the stairs down and the bathrooms.
The vibration swelled in my chest, but I did not fear it. A dull pain rose in the base of my skull, but I gritted my teeth. A man wearing a pair of rough leather shoes came from the other end of the corridor and stopped before me.
“Are you here to help?”
I nodded.
X
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“Do you see her?” I asked in a meek voice.
“You mean that girl in black?” Harvey answered.
It was her, in the flesh. Her lips parted and formed a malevolent smile. Her dark eyes fixed on mine. My legs turned to solid lead. My feet refused to move. The anxiousness to reach Parker and Juliet and Beth in the cellar crumbled like the wood turning to ash behind us. She demanded my attention.
A hand rocked my shoulder. Harvey. I pushed him away.
“You have to go. Help them. I’ll take care of her.”
“What about you?”
“I’ll be right behind you.”
A mirage of Harvey flitted past Ally and disappeared into the kitchen. Everything blurred, everything but her.
She tilted her head to one side and bridged the gap between us with four slow and deliberate steps. She pushed her right hand out from a long sleeve and ran the black painted nail of her index finger across my cheek, the smooth lacquer cold against my skin. I shuddered as the chill spread like ice creeping up a window.
“It is such a shame to be losing you so soon. We’ve only just met, and yet I feel like we’ve known each other our whole lives. Do you feel it too?”
I shook my head. “Let me go.”
“We’re past that now Sam. I considered if we could coexist, you and I. It gave me a thrill knowing there is another one out there like me. But you insist on meddling with my work.”
“You mean locking all those girls in that filthy dungeon where they met their end? And Jane here.”
“The work is sometimes unpleasant.”
“But the pay is good?”
“This isn’t about money Sam. You and I are the same. The pain you felt from not fitting in. The lonely nights lying awake, wishing you could be like everyone else. The stares and the whispers. The rejection from those who are supposed to love us the most. I too know. But where you hid, I searched out a path where my talents were appreciated and rewarded. You don’t hate me Sam. You hate yourself for not thriving like I have.”
“Thriving? Is that what you call it?”
“By all measures yes. I am good at what I do. The best. The only. Or so I thought. And then there is you. A naïve, sheltered little boy who can barely put on his own pants in the morning. It is such a shame. And these so-called friends of yours, that was always doomed to failure. Oh and if you harbour any thoughts of them escaping, know that we blocked the little secret entrance the stable boy showed you. There’s no escape except through the fire. When they pick through the ashes of this building they will find their bones, and yours. Is this how you imagined it turning out?”
I flexed the muscles in my legs, but they refused to move. Ally smiled.
“It’s useless now Sam.”
I heard the faint whisper of Juliet’s voice in my head. She pleaded with me. Come on Sam, you can do this. I remembered the last encounter with Ally, outside the wall separating Windhaven Manor from the world. Ally had put me in the white room. I had broken free. I had overcome her power once. I had to do it again.
I took a deep breath in through my nose and cried out and willed my feet to move. Electricity coursed through my body and I directed it down to the floor. My left heel separated from the floor and that set the whole thing in motion. The dam burst. I lurched forwards and overbalanced and sprawled to the floor.
Ally crouched beside me and chuckled. “Some would call it a tragedy for a child to die so soon after learning to walk.”
I looked back towards the front of the house. The fire burned hot. Thick black smoke circled up the huge open space of the gallery. Portraits hanging on the wall bubbled and curled as flames consumed them.
A figure appeared at the foot of the staircase. The spectre of Crown. The goons had dragged his lifeless corpse out of the house, but stood before me was the spirit with unfinished business. The ugliness of his actions showed through now in death. His skin was sallow and wrinkled. His head too big for his body and his teeth yellowed. A grotesque monster made worse by his mortal demise.
Ally whispered in my ear. “He knows it was your meddling that brought about his end. I’ll leave you two alone.”
She brushed my cheek with the back of her hand and stood. As she walked away leather straps materialised out of thin air and pinned my body to the floor.
The spectre of Crown grew before me, swelling in size until he had to crouch to stay below the chandelier. He clenched his fists and with burning red eyes let out a guttural growl that skipped my ears and penetrated directly into my skull.
I tried to pull my hands to my ears but they would not come. It made no difference. The roar coming from Crown stabbed the inside of my head like a thousand daggers. I lifted my head and the growl grew to a scream that ricocheted around the inside of my skull. I couldn’t take much more. It felt as though my head would explode.
Guilt bubbled up and mingled with the fear and I shrank into the floor and wished for it to swallow me. They were down there, the only friends I had known, banging against a locked door denying their escape. I sobbed. I sobbed like I had the night my parents turned from me.
In the pit of my stomach something else grew. A seed of frustration born of a lifetime existing in a world that didn’t make sense. A world where I had no idea who I was and what I could or should do. A world in which I hid. I couldn’t do that now.
Juliet’s voice as clear as day, cutting through the racket of Crown’s scream. Do it Sam. I gritted my teeth and electricity buzzed somewhere deep inside, at first dull and imperceptible, and then amplified and resonating until it peaked into a deafening roar.
Above Crown the bulbs in the chandelier glowed white. He swivelled his head and watched them dumbly.
I concentrated, felt the energy forming an extra limb. Like the arms and legs of a newborn it flailed spasmodically. I fought to control it, to turn it to my will. I focussed on the straps pinning me to the floor. The electricity fed into the straps and turned them hot. For a moment I feared they would scold my skin, and then in a moment of release they split and flung upwards.
I picked myself up off the floor and faced the spectre of Crown. Like a spent boxer throwing one final punch I threw out my hands and screamed, willing Crown to be quiet and be still. Demanding he be so.
The floor shook. The dozens of bulbs in the chandelier shattered. The giant spectre of Crown diminished and the screaming inside my head softened until it was no more. Crown’s eyes opened wide as his mouth stitched together and his arms wrenched behind his back. I flicked my hand like I was swatting a fly and Crown flew into the corner of the room and slumped to the floor.
I bent over and rested my hands on my knees. My muscles ached, like I had run a marathon. Shadows played on the floor. I sucked in air and smoke and spluttered and coughed.
In the hallway the silhouette of Ally. She turned and shook her head. The heat of the fire intensified and crackled at my skin. If we were to make our escape, she could not be here to block us. I straightened and strode towards her.
I cycled furiously through the events of the last few days, searching for something to defeat Ally. I had to do to her what she had done to me. The time for running and breaking her spells was through.
I closed my eyes and concentrated. I stripped away everything except for the two of us. The crackle of the fire replaced with silence. The smell of the smoke disappeared. The heat washed away. One by one I shut down all my senses. When I opened my eyes a monotone room of white. Sterile calm had replaced the burning insides of Windhaven Manor.
Her eyes scanned the room and she giggled. “Cheap tricks won’t get you far,” she said. “And you learned this one from me.”
The white rippled as if the walls were made of water. She was fighting it. I concentrated, focussing all my energy, all my will. The ripples slowed and then stopped.
“You’re a fast learner,” she said. “But I have been doing this for more than a weekend.”
Strips of colour permeated the white. A rectangle of tile appeared on the floor. And then some blue from the curtain. Enough of a smouldering wall to let in some smoke. The acrid smell reached my nose and I spluttered. As each wedge of colour appeared, I filled it back in white. But it was a sinking ship and the pail I held to bail out the water would not be enough.
Ally grunted under her breath. A grunt of frustration. The white room shook and made a sound like a train bearing down.
I had to bind her. I raised my palm and coils of rope rose from the ground and oscillated like snakes around her. She swatted them away and wrenched them from the ground and flung them at my feet, limp and unmoving.
“It won’t be that easy,” she sneered.
My arms jerked behind my back. She bound my wrists and then my ankles. She pursed her lips and blew as if extinguishing a single candle on a birthday cake, and it was enough to send me to the floor. I couldn’t do this on my own. I needed help.
I shut my eyes and concentrated my energy not on my bindings, but on the woods at the back of Windhaven Manor. On the girls who escaped the dungeon and now roamed the forest, watching the house burn from behind the barrier Ally constructed.
I fed the energy coursing through my body into the giant snowdome structure until it burned hot and then like the globes in the chandelier, it cracked and exploded into the night sky. The spirits of the girls watched the shards disappear and then strode towards the Manor.
I turned my attention to the tiny room beside the pantry, where Jane Laughlin lay bound to the bed. I stood beside her and lay my hand on the shackles binding her to the bed. She shuddered as the mask came free from her mouth and then stood as the shackles broke.
I opened my eyes and the white of the room flickered off and then back on again like bad reception on a television. I had to keep the white walls up long enough for them to draw near. For them to be ready when the façade fell. Ally strode towards me, exuding confidence.
“You can’t beat me Sam.”
Ally squeezed her hands into fists and screamed. In a burst of energy she wiped the white room clear and we were back in the burning house. The air was thick with smoke. Behind me a timber beam tumbled from the ceiling and crashed to the floor. The heat and smoke sucked the moisture from my insides and I heaved out a series of coughs.
Ally opened her eyes and smiled. She had bested me. But then they came. The girls from the dungeon and Jane Laughlin surrounded her. The sum total off all the pain and hurt inflicted in this place. Everything Ally had worked to keep hidden from the world.
They lurched at Ally. She raised her hands and pushed them back one by one as they went for her. She spun on the spot, trying to keep them at bay. She could not hold them all back. The sheer weight of numbers overwhelmed. They leaned in and pushed their heads into hers and showed her what those men had done. Made her feel it. The fear and despair and anger of each individual stacked together and Ally crumpled to the floor holding her head.
“Make it stop,” she said.
They kept at her.
Jane Laughlin sidled over to the base of the stairs where Crown sat, bound and with his mouth stitched. She considered him, restrained and helpless on the floor as she had been. He fought with his restraints, and then whimpered, as she had. As I ran for the pantry and the wine cellar, the corridor filled with the muffled sound of his screams.
The door to the cellar stood open and I made the descent of the stairs in three leaps. The enclosed space already full with smoke. At the end of the long corridor leading outside, Parker and Harvey shouldered the door. Juliet and Beth screamed encouragement. The door would not budge.
“We can’t go that way,” I yelled.
They raced back up the long corridor. A sudden rush of emotion bubbled up to the surface. I was so happy to see them all still alive. My lower jaw rattled and my hands shook. I fought to hide it.
Beth reached me first. “Sam, you’re ok.”
I blubbered a response and took in a lung full of smoke. We had to get out.
The fire raged outside the kitchen door. A wave of flame climbed up and spread across the ceiling. A subtle cracking sound from above intensified and a chunk of the upstairs floor came crashing down through the ceiling, blocking the rear door. We couldn’t get out the back. The only way now was back through the house. A ball of flame whooshed through the doorway and I put my arm up too late, my eyebrows wilting in the heat.
We crouched together in the middle of the kitchen, lowering our heads to get the last of the remaining oxygen. Malicious red flames and choking black smoke surrounded us on all sides.
“Where do we go now?” Parker’s words came out between coughs. Tears streaked down his cheeks. Soot covered his brow. I wished I had an answer.
Then he was there, standing over Parker’s shoulder. Leon. With the protective bubble gone, he too was free to come in the Manor.
“The fire has not yet consumed the dining room. But you don’t have long.”
I looked vaguely in the direction of the kitchen door and blinked back the stinging from the smoke. “I don’t think we can find it in this.”
“Follow me.”
I pulled my shirt up over my head. “We have to go. The dining room, we can make it. All together on three.”
I shouted out the numbers, the sound drowned out by the roar of the fire. I grabbed Beth’s hand and yanked her into action. Leon led the way and I kept my eyes on his heels. Together we were a flurry of arms and legs bounding for the dining room. I gritted my teeth against the heat. We burst through the doorway and everything turned orange.
From below the sweater pulled tight down over my hair, I shot a glance over to the floor of the grand gallery where I had left Ally writhing on the floor. She was not there now. Nor were the spectres of the girls.
I followed Leon’s heels into the dining room. The great wooden table smouldered in the centre of the room. Brilliant orange flames consumed the thick curtains. Parker spotted his camera still atop the tripod and set to pulling the camera free before Harvey grabbed his arm and yelled something that sounded like ‘leave it’.
Harvey grabbed one of the heavy chairs with their high backs and velvet cushions and heaved it at the window in the back corner of the room. The chair disappeared into the darkness of the night and Harvey kicked at the glass shards left behind. Parker joined. We piled out the opening.
I drank in the fresh cool air of night, staggering over the narrow path beside the house and to the small strip of grass beyond. Parker collapsed beside me and pulled the laptop out from under his shirt. He tapped at the casing and for a moment a brief smile flashed across his face, but it did not last long. He wiped soot and sweat from his face with shaking hands.
Harvey checked us all in turn, like a parent fussing over their children. We had scrapes and bruises and our skin was red and raw, but we were alright. We had survived. He ran to the front of the house and came back with palms held out by his sides. The man in the black suit, the goons Ponytail and Beanie, and Ally were all gone, along with the black van and the BMW.
Huddled together, we watched the fire consume Windhaven Manor, bright reds and oranges lighting up the windows and thick black smoke tumbling into the purple haze of sky. It was almost morning, the horizon signalling the coming of the sun.
Leon stood apart on the grass. I went to him.
“Thank you for coming back for us.”
He shrugged. “It’s something. It isn’t enough to make up for the rest.”
“You saved our lives. And those girls, they had their chance to meet their tormentors. That’s something too.”
He nodded. “What happens now?”
I turned my head sideways. “I’m still learning how all this works.”
The red of the fire reflected in his eyes. “Me too. I might go for a walk in the woods. I always liked it out there.”
He glided across the lawn and entered the trees and was gone.
The sound of sirens fought with the crackle of the fire. The fire brigade and the police. I got to my feet and shuffled to the front of the Manor. The burnt out carcasses of our cars stood by the low height wall. Black soot smudged the stone façade above the windows and the doors.
By the oak tree on the ocean side of the house stood Jane Laughlin. She peered down into a hole dug at the base of the tree. A pale and withered hand poked up out of the dirt. Her hand. They had meant to remove the body, but had aborted the task and fled.
A fire truck appeared at the head of the driveway and then another. They sped down the gravel and came to a sliding stop. A lone police car followed. Harvey sidled over.
Jane looked to the horizon. Out on the cliff edge stood a figure in a red dress. She recognised her sister Kylie immediately and ran down the slope. The two sisters embraced in the first light of the sun. I turned to the whoosh of water through a hose from the fire trucks and when I turned back, the Laughlin sisters were gone.
The members of The Séance Club, which I now consider myself a part, sat together on the low-height stone wall as the firefighters extinguished the flames consuming Windhaven Manor. The house was quiet now. The nausea and vibration I had felt that first night replaced with calm.
The police stripped the compound clean for the best part of a week. They identified Kyle the sketch artist and Hugo from the teeth that survived the fire of the hovel built over the dungeon. Hugo’s wife lay on the back lawn where Beanie and Ponytail had left her. But as to specific evidence of the crimes that occurred, they could not find enough to put a case together.
The two fires and the disappearance of Crown made some headlines, but there wasn’t enough to hang anyone else. The police claimed publicly that there was no link between the fire at Windhaven Manor and the fire at the squalid residence over the back fence. At Harvey’s behest they searched the area with cadaver dogs for the remains of the girls, but they found nothing.
Parker turned his laptop over to the police. They identified the two goons, Ponytail and Beanie, low level thugs who had disappeared from the streets years earlier. Those in the know presumed them dead. It made tracing them almost impossible. Tracing their vehicles lead to a dead end.
The man in black the suit on the other hand might as well be a ghost. On him they found nothing. They have a face, but nothing else.
As for Ally, the girl somehow managed to always turn her face away from the cameras, as if she knew where they were.
I sat in a small room at the police station for three days with Harvey putting the pieces together. He showed me a photograph of an old and gaunt man with a bent back, the last owner of Windhaven Manor before it was sold after his death. He had to be the man with the bent back from the ceremony in the dungeon, but I could not be certain. I never saw his face. Of the faces I did see, we knew Crown and Kyle and Hugo, but the others were harder to pinpoint.
At the end of it all Harvey sighed. There was nothing more we could do. But we could rest on the knowledge that the key players in the ceremony were all now dead.
Questions nagged at me. Where was Ally and what was she doing? Would she try to find me? Who was she working for?
That was the biggest question of all. Who was at the top and pulling the strings? Harvey wasn’t giving up. He was a dog with a bone at the best of times, and now he had a taste of blood. He refused to go back to the police even after Crown’s departure, which he described as the removal of a cancerous limb.
Harvey called me after the dust settled on everything. I told him that the trail had gone cold and I had no idea where Ally was. For all I knew she had evaporated into thin air. Harvey thought it unlikely, and I agreed. He told me it was time for some old-fashioned detective work. The names of the goons would be a start.
And there was something else Harvey mentioned, something that I had almost forgotten. He had always believed that his investigation into the disappearance of the girls was the reason one of his colleagues was murdered. Crown confirmed as much in the bedroom right before he was shot. Harvey thinks there is something to it. Another thread to pull, and he has a hunch. For now he’s keeping his cards close to his chest until he has some proof. I almost pressed him on the issue but decided I’d rather put it all behind me.
The story made headlines in the local press for a while, but ultimately it fizzled into a non-story, quickly forgotten by a public with a short attention spans. We all waited for a reckoning from within the police ranks, but it never came. Harvey predicted that’s the way it would go, and he was proven right.
The one item they did recover was a gold necklace with a heart pendant. The necklace Jane Laughlin wore the night of her death. The police found it where the black van had parked. After a few days in the possession of the police, Harvey arranged to have the necklace released to the family of its former owner.
The following day Mr. and Mrs. Laughlin appeared on the local news, thanking the efforts of those who recovered the remains of their daughter. It was closure, though not the kind they had hoped for. Both their girls were dead.
A week later The Séance Club convened in Beth’s apartment. Parker and Juliet were already there when I arrived. It was cathartic to talk about the events at Windhaven Manor, to compare stories and scars. I guess that’s why they have the saying about a problem shared.
After a brief silence, Beth asked, “Are you going to talk to the parents of Jane and Kylie?”
I shook my head. “What will I tell them?”
“That their daughters found each other out by the cliff edge.”
“And what about the agony of their deaths? Should I tell them that too? Besides, it doesn’t feel right. None of this feels right to me yet. And what weight do my words hold over those of some Priest talking about how he knows their souls are at rest.”
“Because you really do know.”
I shrugged. “I can’t prove any of it.”
Truth was I had no idea how to integrate the things I could see and do into my life. From childhood all I had wanted was to be like everyone else. For people not to stare or whisper as I walked by. To find acceptance. Sitting with my three new friends at Beth’s tiny kitchen table, with our shared experience behind us, I finally had it. This could be the start of something.
Parker was already planning the next Séance Club trip. An abandoned farm up north with mysterious sightings going back centuries. Juliet was already on board. I told them to wait. I couldn’t jump back in right away.
I was the last to leave, Beth and I sipping mug after mug of coffee and sharing comfortable silence. When I sighed and told her I should go, she grabbed my arm.
“I’ve never had a real family, and then I found Juliet and Parker. The Séance Club became my family. Whatever happens we are there for each other. And we mean it when we say we want you to join.”
I thought about that all night, unable to sleep.
The next morning I called Parker.
An abandoned farm up north you say?
* * * *
I navigated to the narrow alley and checked the time. The Exchange should be open. It looked out of context in the Saturday morning light. No bright light spilling from the window. No surge of Friday night after work traffic.
I slipped in the front door. A lone man lifted upturned stools down from the bar. He had his back to me and I crept across the hardwood floor in the direction of the stairs down and the bathrooms.
The vibration swelled in my chest, but I did not fear it. A dull pain rose in the base of my skull, but I gritted my teeth. A man wearing a pair of rough leather shoes came from the other end of the corridor and stopped before me.
“Are you here to help?”
I nodded.
X
2023.05.29 15:56 Exaskryz Mapping out gyms you've been to?
What ways are there to make a map of the gyms you've been to so you can focus on pushing gyms to gold?
I will be moving to the neighboring town that I visited in the past but never so much as to gold gyms, and think it would be handy to have a map of my in-progress gyms from still around my current home and my next one to work on those.
The in-game map is atrocious.
I could write down the names of my 1000 most recently interacted with gyms and cross reference the portals on ingress to get coordinates.
But I wondered if this is data Niantic gives you upon request for your personal data? Getting it all formatted already would be wonderful. Maybe I'd have to cross reference that list against my gold/silvebronze progress, but I could maybe make a map of 1000 POIs.
Has anyone done something like this? How did you do it?
submitted by Exaskryz to TheSilphRoad [link] [comments]
I will be moving to the neighboring town that I visited in the past but never so much as to gold gyms, and think it would be handy to have a map of my in-progress gyms from still around my current home and my next one to work on those.
The in-game map is atrocious.
I could write down the names of my 1000 most recently interacted with gyms and cross reference the portals on ingress to get coordinates.
But I wondered if this is data Niantic gives you upon request for your personal data? Getting it all formatted already would be wonderful. Maybe I'd have to cross reference that list against my gold/silvebronze progress, but I could maybe make a map of 1000 POIs.
Has anyone done something like this? How did you do it?
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2023.05.29 15:29 xtremexavier15 TSWT 21 (pt 1)
Girls: Eva, Izzy
Boys: Ezekiel, Mal, Owen, Topher
Episode 21: African Lying Safari
"Last time, on Total Drama World Tour!" Chris opened, the recap montage beginning with a long-distance shot of the cast assembled by the Great Wall of China. "Thaaanks, China, we had a blast," the host said over a shot of Sadie hitting a landmine on her tricycle and an explosion being seen in the distance. "Just not the kind associated with fun," Chris added as Sadie had her tricycle stuck and Owen was shown getting knocked off the Great Wall by Ezekiel's donkey.
"Especially for Mal," Chris said as the troublemaker was shown pedaling his bike after colliding with an explosion, "who not only had to lose to Topher," Topher was shown overlapping Mal on his skateboard, "but he also had his cover blown, thanks to Topher." The Chris wannabe was shown announcing Mal's existence to the rest of the contestants.
"And since she doubted everyone's suspicions when it came to Mal," Chris explained over a clip of Sadie exchanging gifts with Ezekiel, "Sadie was the one to get dropped off!" Sadie was shown receiving her parachute in shock, "right after she learned the truth about Mike not being in control," he added as Mal chucked Sadie out of the plane.
The scene moved to the cockpit. "We're down to the Final Six!" Chris told the camera. "Who won't make the Final Five, and how will everyone band up against Mal? Find out right now, on Total! Drama! World Tour!"
XXXXX
The episode opened to the traditional shot of the plane in flight before quickly moving to economy class where Mal was smirking at Topher, Eva, and Ezekiel.
"So you've been taking control of Mike's body all this time?" Ezekiel griped. "You've gotten some of us eliminated and hurt Sadie and Ella."
"Noah was right about you when he noticed how slimy you were," Eva grimly said.
"I don't even regret any of it," Mal shamelessly said. "And don't even direct all of your hatred towards me. Topher's caused some eliminations as well and worked with me in the process."
Ezekiel and Eva briefly scowled at Topher. "That is true. I did get Amy, Rodney, and Noah voted off, but I simply wanted drama," Topher tried to defend himself. "Mal, on the other hand, has gotten others severely injured and has no redeeming qualities."
"You still decided to collaborate with me even after I made you peeve off Chris in New York," Mal gloated.
"You two are jerks, and I'll have no problem getting you guys off the plane by the next challenge as payback," Eva threatened.
\
The scene flashed to first class, focusing on Owen and Izzy sitting on the couch.
"So what is that thing you're holding?" Izzy pointed at the tea bag Owen was holding.
"It's love tea," Owen confessed. "This was given to me in China. It's supposed to make us love each other more or something like that."
Izzy snatched the bag and chucked it away. "Why would you think we'd need to drink this? I love you enough as it is," she said and sat on Owen's lap.
"Wait. Really!" Owen's eyes lit up.
"Of course I do. I've missed having you around on the plane for the past days," Izzy admitted. "No matter what, you'll always be my special marshmallow."
Izzy hugged Owen affectionately. "You're a wild gal indeed," he giggled coolly.
\
The footage skipped ahead to a shot of an open and sunny savanna, the jumbo jet parked in the background on the left, and a mountain range further beyond it. The landscape was dotted with acacia trees and low shrubs and a few rocks, and a compilation of hissing, hollow notes signified the heat as the camera panned to the right.
Mal, Topher, Ezekiel, and Eva were all waiting in a line. Izzy and Owen were nowhere to be seen as of yet, but Chris did soon appear in a red robe, wearing beaded necklaces and bracelets and a bald cap, and holding a spear. The appropriated outfit earned chuckles from the three boys, and Eva grinned as well.
"Nice dress!" Mal said through his laughter.
"It's traditional Maasai warrior garb," Chris explained, "and, it came with this!" He grinned as he held up his spear, and threw it towards Mal. The malevolent one yelped and moved to the side, the weapon sailing past his torso.
"Watch it!" Mal complained.
"Trust me," Chris told him. "That's the least dangerous thing that'll happen to you today. Welcome, to beautiful Tanzania," he said. "Home of the Serengeti plains, and over seventy different kinds of animals that can kill you."
"Sorry we're late!" the voice of Owen called from off-screen, distracting the group as he and Izzy ran into the shot from the left. "We got a little distracted."
"Whatever do you mean by that?" Chris wondered.
"One minute, Big O was showing me his love tea, and then the next minute, we're both talking about our favorite drinks and movies," Izzy replied.
"Are you two a couple or what?" Mal said rudely.
"No, but we're getting somewhere around that part," Owen said.
"Okay, challenge time!" Chris piped in.
\
A flash took the scene forward to a small clearing, the camera moving in past a few tufts of long grass to show the host and contestants on the left; and Chef dressed in his winter wear, a pile of purple fruit, six gourds of various shapes lined up on pedestals, and a pair of giant wooden heads flanking the whole display on the right.
"Part one combines two of Africa's most popular sports: soccer and cricket." Chris began, holding up a soccer ball and a cricket bat as the camera finished moving in for a close-up. "I call it 'Socc-et To Me'!" he declared dramatically, adding "The 'me' being you, of course."
"Why is Chef dressed up for a blizzard?" Ezekiel asked in confusion.
"Behold, the Penalty Parka!" Chris answered as the camera cut to a close-up of the sweating pilot. "I accidentally rented this coat, and since it can't fit me, I'm making Chef wear it so I can make my money's worth. Lookin' hot Chef," he taunted.
"Each player must run, one at a time," Chris continued as he spun the soccer ball on his finger, "from the starting line to that pile of African safou plums," the camera cut over to the large box of fruit. "Grab as many as you can carry, and run back. And you'll be doing all of this while your fellow competitors pummel you with soccer balls," he added with a smile as he spun his own ball around again.
"Hold on just a minute," Topher said nervously. "Do you have helmets for us to protect our faces?"
"It's Chris. The answer is obviously no," Eva told him.
"Next, take the plums you've brought back," Chris continued, "and whack 'em with the cricket bat to smash those gourds open. Like this," he said, tossing a safou high up into the air and smacking it with the bat when it came down. The fruit sailed through the air, and cracked Chef on the head, causing him to fall to the ground.
"Whoever cracks their gourd open first wins a reward that will be muy helpful in the next challenge," Chris said, ignoring his assistant. "Now, positions people! Izzy, you're up first! Kickers, get ready."
\
Another flash, and the other five players were shown in position with several soccer balls at their feet: Topher, Ezekiel, and Eva looking ready; then a side view of a smirking Mal and worried Owen.
Izzy took a deep breath at the starting line, and got into running position. "Let's do this," she said confidently.
"Ready, steady, Serengeti!" Chris called out, and a blow from his whistle signaled the start of Izzy's run.
She took off at a dash. The camera zoomed in to show her passing Topher, Ezekiel, and Eva in the background, and the three started kicking. "Is that all you got?" she called out as she turned around and kicked the ball back.
She reached the plums, scooped up an armful, and ran back to the start. Mal was shown watching her go past in the foreground, then smirked and kicked a ball her way. It hit the wild girl in the back, causing her to drop some plums and trip on the ones she'd dropped. With a startled wail, she let the rest of them fly from her hands and fell to the ground.
"Awesome!" Chris laughed. "Ezekiel, top that." He blew his whistle, and the footage skipped ahead.
\
Ezekiel gulped from his runner's start and went forward.
The first ball came from the foreground and hit him in the arm, earning a "Hey," as he slogged forward. Another "Ugh," came from a second foreground ball, and a third from a ball from the background.
"Quit complaining!" Eva said. "You're already there!"
Ezekiel smiled in revelation as he realized he'd gotten to the safous intact. "Hey, you're right!" he said in excitement, grabbing an armful of plums then turning and tripping over his own legs and landing face-first in the dirt.
"Owen, your go!" Chris announced, blowing his whistle again.
\
Owen jogged away from the starting line. The soccer balls hit him, but he managed to move on. "Dad was right. Being big does pay off!" he said positively.
The funniest guy around made it to the plums and grabbed two armfuls. He ran back to the line, and even though the balls were being kicked harder and faster, he prevailed and crossed the line with a lot of plums.
"I'd like to see anyone beat him!" Chris said. "Your turn, Topher!"
\
"I should just get this over with," Topher said to himself, racing off the starting line and immediately jumping over a ball kicked his way from behind the camera. "Please don't hit my face! I need my face!" he yelled, avoiding a second ball and covering his head. He was able to grab a load of plums.
"Maybe I could-" he said, a head-on perspective showing him running back...and getting tripped by a soccer ball on the leg from the right.
"Hey! Who did that?!" Topher asked irately, and Mal just snickered in response.
"Alright! Mal is next!" Chris declared before blowing his whistle yet again.
\
Mal took off running, and had to duck under a ball almost immediately. "Careful where you kick that!" he shot at Topher.
"No way!" Topher countered, launching another soccer ball.
"I'm going to aim for the head," Eva told him before kicking a ball of her own.
The shot cut to Mal as he narrowly dodged the second ball, but then seemed unable to dodge the third...but a ball came from the other side and struck the one Eva had kicked, and both fell to the ground harmlessly. "You have to try harder than that!" Mal taunted.
The scene skipped ahead to show Mal grabbing his plums, then turning around. Ezekiel kicked another ball, only for it to miss; the shot from Izzy that had been intended to intercept it also missed its target, though it did come close to hitting Mal.
"I am not sorry about that!" Izzy called out.
Owen kicked a ball himself, and on the other side Topher did as well. The two were shown in split-screen, Topher's going wide but then bounced back on course by Owen's, hitting Mal in the gut and knocking him over.
"How do you like that?!" Topher called out to Mal, looking somewhat pleased.
"And then there was one," Chris announced. "Bring it on, Eva!" He blew his whistle.
\
Eva's start was strong, and she immediately did a series of kicks at the first four balls sent her way. The rest of the contestants stopped and looked on in shock.
The female bully managed to bring an armload of plums back across the line without issue.
Confessional: Eva
"Is it any surprise to you that I'm a pro at soccer?" Eva gruffly told the camera. "I should just ask the producers to give me the million dollars already."
Confessional Ends
"Remember," Chris told the cast as the footage cut back to the six lined up at the starting line with their cricket bats, "first person to smash through gets the advantage! Aaaaand go!"
Izzy and Owen were shown tossing their first plums into the air and making their first swings; Owen missed and groaned in disappointment, but Izzy managed to smack her safou on the first go. The camera cut to the gourds, where Chef was sweating too profusely to try and dodge the plums that were flying his way and completely missing their intended targets but hitting him.
The shot cut in closer to Eva as he wound up and swung, then followed the plum as it shot across the field and struck a gourd on the other side: it was cracked, but not broken. "I'm more into smashing things with the bat," Eva said as the shot cut back to her.
"Mal doesn't seem to be having much trouble," Chris commented as the villain struck another plum; it, too, sped across the playing field and struck the gourd opposite and deepened an already existing crack.
"It's all in the wrist! I can feel it!" Topher confidently declared, tossing a safou of his own and twirling the cricket bat with his wrist as he swung. They connected, but the plum went up in an arc, and ended up hitting Mal in the head and interrupting his swing.
"Don't make me hit you with my bat!" Mal complained, rubbing where he'd been hit.
"You can save that for later," Ezekiel told him, taking a powerful swing himself; it managed to hit the plum straight through his gourd, finally breaking it. "Because I just won this!" he declared proudly.
"And the winner of our first challenge is, Ezekiel!" Chris announced.
"Yes!" Ezekiel announced in triumph.
\
The footage skipped ahead a little, showing Ezekiel standing on the sidelines with Chris while the other five readied their bats again, "The rest of you have ten seconds left to crack your gourd," the host told them. "And trust me, you want what's inside!"
\
Another flash ahead, and Mal was shown swinging his cricket bat and smacking a safou straight through his gourd, finally smashing it. Eva looked at him, scowled, then spun around and tossed her cricket bat like a hammer; by sheer luck, she managed to smash her own gourd with it.
Topher, taking inspiration from the girl, threw his bat as well. It cracked his gourd successfully.
Izzy was next, smacking her two safous as hard as she could, and managed to knock the gourd clear off its pedestal. Luckily, it cracked open when it hit the ground.
Last was Owen, who took a breath and readied a more traditional swing. "Okay, last one,"she said to herself, tossing the safou up and smacking it hard when it came back down. Unfortunately, however, he missed his gourd and hit Chef in the groin instead, the pilot groaned in pain and fell over.
"Broken, but not a gourd," Chris told him. "No success for Owen will make it much harder for him to deal with this!"
He pointed dramatically to the side, where a tall crate had just been wheeled in by a white male intern. Whatever was inside the crate seemed angry, growling, snarling and making the box shake.
"Uhh, should we be running right now?" Ezekiel asked as he and Izzy gave the crate nervous looks.
"Yes, you should be scared," Chris said, mostly ignoring the comment as he walked over to the crate. "Part two of our challenge is a genuine African safari. And the prey?" He knocked on the crate, which shook again as another angry growl came from inside. The contestants gasped. "Why only the most dangerous animal of all," Chris said dramatically, the intern nervously prying open the crate to reveal a metal cage within, with a familiar shadow inside.
"A clone of Ezekiel!" Chris finished, the camera zooming in on the form inside the cage.
The clone snarled from in the cage. It still looked like Ezekiel, but its clothes were torn and shabby, his footwear and hat was gone completely, and his skin had turned greenish. In addition to that, his hair was gone and only a few strands could be seen.
The cast gasped again. "Where did that thing come from?!" Topher squimished.
"Turns out it got on the plane back in Area 51!" Chris said, looking back at the cage and flinching at the glare Ezekiel Clone was giving him. "Once I checked the security footage," Chris explained as the clone snarled, "Chef went a-hunting and found the possible alien down in the hold."
"I should warn you, though," Chris said from off-screen, "he's totally feral thanks to all that time with the animals." The clone gave the camera a frightening look.
Chris turned back to the contestants. "Whoever nabs the beast known as Ezekiel Clone wins invincibility, and! First class seats to our next destination."
"With the player of our choice," Matthew said. "Where's my reward?"
"In a second!" Chris replied snippily. "Go to your gourds and check inside," he said as the camera pulled back to show Ezekiel Clone trying to reach him from his cage. "They contain what you'll use to hunt with."
"A slingshot! Cool!" Izzy said in excitement, holding up the weapon and practicing pulling it back. "I've broken a lot of windows with these as a kid!" She released the rubber band and it snapped forward.
"What's the pouch for?" Eva asked, holding up a small leather belt and pouch. "Magic beans?"
"Close," Chris told her before reaching inside her opened gourd and taking out a small, squishy pink ball. "Tranquilizer balls!" he announced with glee. "Sling 'em with enough velocity and they burst on contact, numbing the area and releasing a hearty dose of sleepy-time goodness." He turned his attention to the side. "Watch, as this intern demonstrates."
He shot a tranq ball at the intern who had wheeled in the cage, and was now eating a sandwich. The ball struck him in the shoulder and released a small cloud of pink gas, which promptly caused the man's eyes to roll back in his head before he fell over. He landed in front of Ezekiel Clone, who immediately snarled and tried to grab the fallen sandwich from his hands.
"See?" Chris said as the shot cut back to the cast. "It's like paintball, only with naps! Now, stand back people. We're gonna give the violent alien a head start. Hey Frosty!" he called back towards the cage with a laugh.
Chef was sweating through his outfit as he shakily moved a key towards the cage's lock, and at the host's call of "Release the beast!" He put it in the keyhole, turned it, and was promptly trampled as the door was slammed open and Ezekiel Clone jumped out, snarled, and ran.
"It doesn't even look like Ezekiel," Mal responded.
"That's because I'm the real deal," Ezekiel said.
"Okay!" Chris said with his usual grin. "Since Ezekiel won the first challenge, he gets six tranq balls," he said before handing over a handful of pink pellets to the grinning prairie boy. "Mal and Izzy, you cracked yours open so you get three," he told the troublemaker and psycho, handing over the ammunition as Eva and Topher looked on. "Eva and Topher, two each," the host told the pair.
"Why are you giving us two?" Eva squinted.
"We cracked our gourds too!" Topher protested.
"Technically, the two of you beat your gourds with cricket bats," Chris corrected as Ezekiel Clone could be seen chasing the intern in the background before turning to the last contestant. "And Owen, since you didn't put a dent in your gourd, you get these," he handed the food fanatic a pair of safety goggles, "and one tranq ball."
"No slingshot?" Owen asked in disappointment. "I have a lot of plums still."
"Nope. You're just gonna have to throw the balls hard enough to make 'em burst," Chris told him. "Which will be hilariously unsuccessful, I'm sure."
"Aaand," he said, the shot pulling back as Chef blew on a large horn, "go!"
At the signal, the six teens, all now wearing safety goggles, ran off.
\
The scene flashed forward to a rightward pan across the savanna, Topher speaking before the camera reached him.
"Can one of you give me an extra tranquilizer ball?" Topher said, eventually being shown traveling with Ezekiel and Mal. "Having two sucks."
"I have one more than you, and I'm going to go alone," Mal refused and left the two alone. "See you dorks after I win."
Ezekiel squinted his eyes at him. "He's a total knob. I swear."
Topher put his arm around Ezekiel. "How about we team up and take him down?" he suggested. "If he doesn't win invincibility, everyone will vote him off."
"I do like the idea of seeing him jump off the plane," Ezekiel agreed. "I'm in."
Confessional: Topher
"I know I'll be targeted next after Mal is gone, but I'll think about what to do after this day is over," Topher admitted.
Confessional Ends
"I remember watching you guys catch the Ripper back in London, but I forgot how you did it," Owen told Izzy and Eva while the three navigated.
"We had to use a burlap sack to do it, but this time, we have to roll with tranquilizer balls," Eva said.
"If you combine them all as a group, we have six overall," Izzy said.
"Six divided by three equals two, and each of us should have two tranq balls just to be safe," Owen explained.
"Keep an eye out for that clone," Eva advised her team. "We have no idea what it can do."
Confessional: Izzy
"I'm relentlessly good at tracking down prey," Izzy said. "The last time I had a date planned, this guy stood me up just to move to another state. I tracked him down, and what happened after wasn't pretty."
Confessional Ends
The scene moved to a low-to-the-ground shot of a rustling bush. Mal walked in from the left, and smirked at the bush. "Are you ready for your nap, alien reject?"
He was answered by a low roar, and a yellowish paw stepped out from the bush.
"A lion?" Mal said blankly as a male lion stepped out. "I wasn't going to tranquilize you. There's this alien-"
The lion interrupted with a roar, causing Mal to take a step back.
"I'm not wasting my ammo on this lion!" Mal yelled before turning and fleeing, and it looked like the lion was going to give chase before the sudden appearance of Chris in the foreground distracted it.
"Who will survive?" he asked the camera. "King of the Jungle, or King of the Fumble? Find out right after this, on Total! Drama! World Tour!"
The lion roared at him, and he turned and fled screaming as well.
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(Commercial Break)
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submitted by xtremexavier15 to u/xtremexavier15 [link] [comments]
Boys: Ezekiel, Mal, Owen, Topher
Episode 21: African Lying Safari
"Last time, on Total Drama World Tour!" Chris opened, the recap montage beginning with a long-distance shot of the cast assembled by the Great Wall of China. "Thaaanks, China, we had a blast," the host said over a shot of Sadie hitting a landmine on her tricycle and an explosion being seen in the distance. "Just not the kind associated with fun," Chris added as Sadie had her tricycle stuck and Owen was shown getting knocked off the Great Wall by Ezekiel's donkey.
"Especially for Mal," Chris said as the troublemaker was shown pedaling his bike after colliding with an explosion, "who not only had to lose to Topher," Topher was shown overlapping Mal on his skateboard, "but he also had his cover blown, thanks to Topher." The Chris wannabe was shown announcing Mal's existence to the rest of the contestants.
"And since she doubted everyone's suspicions when it came to Mal," Chris explained over a clip of Sadie exchanging gifts with Ezekiel, "Sadie was the one to get dropped off!" Sadie was shown receiving her parachute in shock, "right after she learned the truth about Mike not being in control," he added as Mal chucked Sadie out of the plane.
The scene moved to the cockpit. "We're down to the Final Six!" Chris told the camera. "Who won't make the Final Five, and how will everyone band up against Mal? Find out right now, on Total! Drama! World Tour!"
XXXXX
The episode opened to the traditional shot of the plane in flight before quickly moving to economy class where Mal was smirking at Topher, Eva, and Ezekiel.
"So you've been taking control of Mike's body all this time?" Ezekiel griped. "You've gotten some of us eliminated and hurt Sadie and Ella."
"Noah was right about you when he noticed how slimy you were," Eva grimly said.
"I don't even regret any of it," Mal shamelessly said. "And don't even direct all of your hatred towards me. Topher's caused some eliminations as well and worked with me in the process."
Ezekiel and Eva briefly scowled at Topher. "That is true. I did get Amy, Rodney, and Noah voted off, but I simply wanted drama," Topher tried to defend himself. "Mal, on the other hand, has gotten others severely injured and has no redeeming qualities."
"You still decided to collaborate with me even after I made you peeve off Chris in New York," Mal gloated.
"You two are jerks, and I'll have no problem getting you guys off the plane by the next challenge as payback," Eva threatened.
\
The scene flashed to first class, focusing on Owen and Izzy sitting on the couch.
"So what is that thing you're holding?" Izzy pointed at the tea bag Owen was holding.
"It's love tea," Owen confessed. "This was given to me in China. It's supposed to make us love each other more or something like that."
Izzy snatched the bag and chucked it away. "Why would you think we'd need to drink this? I love you enough as it is," she said and sat on Owen's lap.
"Wait. Really!" Owen's eyes lit up.
"Of course I do. I've missed having you around on the plane for the past days," Izzy admitted. "No matter what, you'll always be my special marshmallow."
Izzy hugged Owen affectionately. "You're a wild gal indeed," he giggled coolly.
\
The footage skipped ahead to a shot of an open and sunny savanna, the jumbo jet parked in the background on the left, and a mountain range further beyond it. The landscape was dotted with acacia trees and low shrubs and a few rocks, and a compilation of hissing, hollow notes signified the heat as the camera panned to the right.
Mal, Topher, Ezekiel, and Eva were all waiting in a line. Izzy and Owen were nowhere to be seen as of yet, but Chris did soon appear in a red robe, wearing beaded necklaces and bracelets and a bald cap, and holding a spear. The appropriated outfit earned chuckles from the three boys, and Eva grinned as well.
"Nice dress!" Mal said through his laughter.
"It's traditional Maasai warrior garb," Chris explained, "and, it came with this!" He grinned as he held up his spear, and threw it towards Mal. The malevolent one yelped and moved to the side, the weapon sailing past his torso.
"Watch it!" Mal complained.
"Trust me," Chris told him. "That's the least dangerous thing that'll happen to you today. Welcome, to beautiful Tanzania," he said. "Home of the Serengeti plains, and over seventy different kinds of animals that can kill you."
"Sorry we're late!" the voice of Owen called from off-screen, distracting the group as he and Izzy ran into the shot from the left. "We got a little distracted."
"Whatever do you mean by that?" Chris wondered.
"One minute, Big O was showing me his love tea, and then the next minute, we're both talking about our favorite drinks and movies," Izzy replied.
"Are you two a couple or what?" Mal said rudely.
"No, but we're getting somewhere around that part," Owen said.
"Okay, challenge time!" Chris piped in.
\
A flash took the scene forward to a small clearing, the camera moving in past a few tufts of long grass to show the host and contestants on the left; and Chef dressed in his winter wear, a pile of purple fruit, six gourds of various shapes lined up on pedestals, and a pair of giant wooden heads flanking the whole display on the right.
"Part one combines two of Africa's most popular sports: soccer and cricket." Chris began, holding up a soccer ball and a cricket bat as the camera finished moving in for a close-up. "I call it 'Socc-et To Me'!" he declared dramatically, adding "The 'me' being you, of course."
"Why is Chef dressed up for a blizzard?" Ezekiel asked in confusion.
"Behold, the Penalty Parka!" Chris answered as the camera cut to a close-up of the sweating pilot. "I accidentally rented this coat, and since it can't fit me, I'm making Chef wear it so I can make my money's worth. Lookin' hot Chef," he taunted.
"Each player must run, one at a time," Chris continued as he spun the soccer ball on his finger, "from the starting line to that pile of African safou plums," the camera cut over to the large box of fruit. "Grab as many as you can carry, and run back. And you'll be doing all of this while your fellow competitors pummel you with soccer balls," he added with a smile as he spun his own ball around again.
"Hold on just a minute," Topher said nervously. "Do you have helmets for us to protect our faces?"
"It's Chris. The answer is obviously no," Eva told him.
"Next, take the plums you've brought back," Chris continued, "and whack 'em with the cricket bat to smash those gourds open. Like this," he said, tossing a safou high up into the air and smacking it with the bat when it came down. The fruit sailed through the air, and cracked Chef on the head, causing him to fall to the ground.
"Whoever cracks their gourd open first wins a reward that will be muy helpful in the next challenge," Chris said, ignoring his assistant. "Now, positions people! Izzy, you're up first! Kickers, get ready."
\
Another flash, and the other five players were shown in position with several soccer balls at their feet: Topher, Ezekiel, and Eva looking ready; then a side view of a smirking Mal and worried Owen.
Izzy took a deep breath at the starting line, and got into running position. "Let's do this," she said confidently.
"Ready, steady, Serengeti!" Chris called out, and a blow from his whistle signaled the start of Izzy's run.
She took off at a dash. The camera zoomed in to show her passing Topher, Ezekiel, and Eva in the background, and the three started kicking. "Is that all you got?" she called out as she turned around and kicked the ball back.
She reached the plums, scooped up an armful, and ran back to the start. Mal was shown watching her go past in the foreground, then smirked and kicked a ball her way. It hit the wild girl in the back, causing her to drop some plums and trip on the ones she'd dropped. With a startled wail, she let the rest of them fly from her hands and fell to the ground.
"Awesome!" Chris laughed. "Ezekiel, top that." He blew his whistle, and the footage skipped ahead.
\
Ezekiel gulped from his runner's start and went forward.
The first ball came from the foreground and hit him in the arm, earning a "Hey," as he slogged forward. Another "Ugh," came from a second foreground ball, and a third from a ball from the background.
"Quit complaining!" Eva said. "You're already there!"
Ezekiel smiled in revelation as he realized he'd gotten to the safous intact. "Hey, you're right!" he said in excitement, grabbing an armful of plums then turning and tripping over his own legs and landing face-first in the dirt.
"Owen, your go!" Chris announced, blowing his whistle again.
\
Owen jogged away from the starting line. The soccer balls hit him, but he managed to move on. "Dad was right. Being big does pay off!" he said positively.
The funniest guy around made it to the plums and grabbed two armfuls. He ran back to the line, and even though the balls were being kicked harder and faster, he prevailed and crossed the line with a lot of plums.
"I'd like to see anyone beat him!" Chris said. "Your turn, Topher!"
\
"I should just get this over with," Topher said to himself, racing off the starting line and immediately jumping over a ball kicked his way from behind the camera. "Please don't hit my face! I need my face!" he yelled, avoiding a second ball and covering his head. He was able to grab a load of plums.
"Maybe I could-" he said, a head-on perspective showing him running back...and getting tripped by a soccer ball on the leg from the right.
"Hey! Who did that?!" Topher asked irately, and Mal just snickered in response.
"Alright! Mal is next!" Chris declared before blowing his whistle yet again.
\
Mal took off running, and had to duck under a ball almost immediately. "Careful where you kick that!" he shot at Topher.
"No way!" Topher countered, launching another soccer ball.
"I'm going to aim for the head," Eva told him before kicking a ball of her own.
The shot cut to Mal as he narrowly dodged the second ball, but then seemed unable to dodge the third...but a ball came from the other side and struck the one Eva had kicked, and both fell to the ground harmlessly. "You have to try harder than that!" Mal taunted.
The scene skipped ahead to show Mal grabbing his plums, then turning around. Ezekiel kicked another ball, only for it to miss; the shot from Izzy that had been intended to intercept it also missed its target, though it did come close to hitting Mal.
"I am not sorry about that!" Izzy called out.
Owen kicked a ball himself, and on the other side Topher did as well. The two were shown in split-screen, Topher's going wide but then bounced back on course by Owen's, hitting Mal in the gut and knocking him over.
"How do you like that?!" Topher called out to Mal, looking somewhat pleased.
"And then there was one," Chris announced. "Bring it on, Eva!" He blew his whistle.
\
Eva's start was strong, and she immediately did a series of kicks at the first four balls sent her way. The rest of the contestants stopped and looked on in shock.
The female bully managed to bring an armload of plums back across the line without issue.
Confessional: Eva
"Is it any surprise to you that I'm a pro at soccer?" Eva gruffly told the camera. "I should just ask the producers to give me the million dollars already."
Confessional Ends
"Remember," Chris told the cast as the footage cut back to the six lined up at the starting line with their cricket bats, "first person to smash through gets the advantage! Aaaaand go!"
Izzy and Owen were shown tossing their first plums into the air and making their first swings; Owen missed and groaned in disappointment, but Izzy managed to smack her safou on the first go. The camera cut to the gourds, where Chef was sweating too profusely to try and dodge the plums that were flying his way and completely missing their intended targets but hitting him.
The shot cut in closer to Eva as he wound up and swung, then followed the plum as it shot across the field and struck a gourd on the other side: it was cracked, but not broken. "I'm more into smashing things with the bat," Eva said as the shot cut back to her.
"Mal doesn't seem to be having much trouble," Chris commented as the villain struck another plum; it, too, sped across the playing field and struck the gourd opposite and deepened an already existing crack.
"It's all in the wrist! I can feel it!" Topher confidently declared, tossing a safou of his own and twirling the cricket bat with his wrist as he swung. They connected, but the plum went up in an arc, and ended up hitting Mal in the head and interrupting his swing.
"Don't make me hit you with my bat!" Mal complained, rubbing where he'd been hit.
"You can save that for later," Ezekiel told him, taking a powerful swing himself; it managed to hit the plum straight through his gourd, finally breaking it. "Because I just won this!" he declared proudly.
"And the winner of our first challenge is, Ezekiel!" Chris announced.
"Yes!" Ezekiel announced in triumph.
\
The footage skipped ahead a little, showing Ezekiel standing on the sidelines with Chris while the other five readied their bats again, "The rest of you have ten seconds left to crack your gourd," the host told them. "And trust me, you want what's inside!"
\
Another flash ahead, and Mal was shown swinging his cricket bat and smacking a safou straight through his gourd, finally smashing it. Eva looked at him, scowled, then spun around and tossed her cricket bat like a hammer; by sheer luck, she managed to smash her own gourd with it.
Topher, taking inspiration from the girl, threw his bat as well. It cracked his gourd successfully.
Izzy was next, smacking her two safous as hard as she could, and managed to knock the gourd clear off its pedestal. Luckily, it cracked open when it hit the ground.
Last was Owen, who took a breath and readied a more traditional swing. "Okay, last one,"she said to herself, tossing the safou up and smacking it hard when it came back down. Unfortunately, however, he missed his gourd and hit Chef in the groin instead, the pilot groaned in pain and fell over.
"Broken, but not a gourd," Chris told him. "No success for Owen will make it much harder for him to deal with this!"
He pointed dramatically to the side, where a tall crate had just been wheeled in by a white male intern. Whatever was inside the crate seemed angry, growling, snarling and making the box shake.
"Uhh, should we be running right now?" Ezekiel asked as he and Izzy gave the crate nervous looks.
"Yes, you should be scared," Chris said, mostly ignoring the comment as he walked over to the crate. "Part two of our challenge is a genuine African safari. And the prey?" He knocked on the crate, which shook again as another angry growl came from inside. The contestants gasped. "Why only the most dangerous animal of all," Chris said dramatically, the intern nervously prying open the crate to reveal a metal cage within, with a familiar shadow inside.
"A clone of Ezekiel!" Chris finished, the camera zooming in on the form inside the cage.
The clone snarled from in the cage. It still looked like Ezekiel, but its clothes were torn and shabby, his footwear and hat was gone completely, and his skin had turned greenish. In addition to that, his hair was gone and only a few strands could be seen.
The cast gasped again. "Where did that thing come from?!" Topher squimished.
"Turns out it got on the plane back in Area 51!" Chris said, looking back at the cage and flinching at the glare Ezekiel Clone was giving him. "Once I checked the security footage," Chris explained as the clone snarled, "Chef went a-hunting and found the possible alien down in the hold."
"I should warn you, though," Chris said from off-screen, "he's totally feral thanks to all that time with the animals." The clone gave the camera a frightening look.
Chris turned back to the contestants. "Whoever nabs the beast known as Ezekiel Clone wins invincibility, and! First class seats to our next destination."
"With the player of our choice," Matthew said. "Where's my reward?"
"In a second!" Chris replied snippily. "Go to your gourds and check inside," he said as the camera pulled back to show Ezekiel Clone trying to reach him from his cage. "They contain what you'll use to hunt with."
"A slingshot! Cool!" Izzy said in excitement, holding up the weapon and practicing pulling it back. "I've broken a lot of windows with these as a kid!" She released the rubber band and it snapped forward.
"What's the pouch for?" Eva asked, holding up a small leather belt and pouch. "Magic beans?"
"Close," Chris told her before reaching inside her opened gourd and taking out a small, squishy pink ball. "Tranquilizer balls!" he announced with glee. "Sling 'em with enough velocity and they burst on contact, numbing the area and releasing a hearty dose of sleepy-time goodness." He turned his attention to the side. "Watch, as this intern demonstrates."
He shot a tranq ball at the intern who had wheeled in the cage, and was now eating a sandwich. The ball struck him in the shoulder and released a small cloud of pink gas, which promptly caused the man's eyes to roll back in his head before he fell over. He landed in front of Ezekiel Clone, who immediately snarled and tried to grab the fallen sandwich from his hands.
"See?" Chris said as the shot cut back to the cast. "It's like paintball, only with naps! Now, stand back people. We're gonna give the violent alien a head start. Hey Frosty!" he called back towards the cage with a laugh.
Chef was sweating through his outfit as he shakily moved a key towards the cage's lock, and at the host's call of "Release the beast!" He put it in the keyhole, turned it, and was promptly trampled as the door was slammed open and Ezekiel Clone jumped out, snarled, and ran.
"It doesn't even look like Ezekiel," Mal responded.
"That's because I'm the real deal," Ezekiel said.
"Okay!" Chris said with his usual grin. "Since Ezekiel won the first challenge, he gets six tranq balls," he said before handing over a handful of pink pellets to the grinning prairie boy. "Mal and Izzy, you cracked yours open so you get three," he told the troublemaker and psycho, handing over the ammunition as Eva and Topher looked on. "Eva and Topher, two each," the host told the pair.
"Why are you giving us two?" Eva squinted.
"We cracked our gourds too!" Topher protested.
"Technically, the two of you beat your gourds with cricket bats," Chris corrected as Ezekiel Clone could be seen chasing the intern in the background before turning to the last contestant. "And Owen, since you didn't put a dent in your gourd, you get these," he handed the food fanatic a pair of safety goggles, "and one tranq ball."
"No slingshot?" Owen asked in disappointment. "I have a lot of plums still."
"Nope. You're just gonna have to throw the balls hard enough to make 'em burst," Chris told him. "Which will be hilariously unsuccessful, I'm sure."
"Aaand," he said, the shot pulling back as Chef blew on a large horn, "go!"
At the signal, the six teens, all now wearing safety goggles, ran off.
\
The scene flashed forward to a rightward pan across the savanna, Topher speaking before the camera reached him.
"Can one of you give me an extra tranquilizer ball?" Topher said, eventually being shown traveling with Ezekiel and Mal. "Having two sucks."
"I have one more than you, and I'm going to go alone," Mal refused and left the two alone. "See you dorks after I win."
Ezekiel squinted his eyes at him. "He's a total knob. I swear."
Topher put his arm around Ezekiel. "How about we team up and take him down?" he suggested. "If he doesn't win invincibility, everyone will vote him off."
"I do like the idea of seeing him jump off the plane," Ezekiel agreed. "I'm in."
Confessional: Topher
"I know I'll be targeted next after Mal is gone, but I'll think about what to do after this day is over," Topher admitted.
Confessional Ends
"I remember watching you guys catch the Ripper back in London, but I forgot how you did it," Owen told Izzy and Eva while the three navigated.
"We had to use a burlap sack to do it, but this time, we have to roll with tranquilizer balls," Eva said.
"If you combine them all as a group, we have six overall," Izzy said.
"Six divided by three equals two, and each of us should have two tranq balls just to be safe," Owen explained.
"Keep an eye out for that clone," Eva advised her team. "We have no idea what it can do."
Confessional: Izzy
"I'm relentlessly good at tracking down prey," Izzy said. "The last time I had a date planned, this guy stood me up just to move to another state. I tracked him down, and what happened after wasn't pretty."
Confessional Ends
The scene moved to a low-to-the-ground shot of a rustling bush. Mal walked in from the left, and smirked at the bush. "Are you ready for your nap, alien reject?"
He was answered by a low roar, and a yellowish paw stepped out from the bush.
"A lion?" Mal said blankly as a male lion stepped out. "I wasn't going to tranquilize you. There's this alien-"
The lion interrupted with a roar, causing Mal to take a step back.
"I'm not wasting my ammo on this lion!" Mal yelled before turning and fleeing, and it looked like the lion was going to give chase before the sudden appearance of Chris in the foreground distracted it.
"Who will survive?" he asked the camera. "King of the Jungle, or King of the Fumble? Find out right after this, on Total! Drama! World Tour!"
The lion roared at him, and he turned and fled screaming as well.
\
(Commercial Break)
\
2023.05.29 15:06 No_Lifeguard2189 [FS] [CANADA to CANADA or USA] [RING] Moissanite Marquise & Round Eternity Band 14K Yellow Gold, Size 7.75
![[FS] [CANADA to CANADA or USA] [RING] Moissanite Marquise & Round Eternity Band 14K Yellow Gold, Size 7.75](https://b.thumbs.redditmedia.com/NDq8oHEvhinMBHoS-RO_iGTpINJd_KfpxWtW-vPFxtQ.jpg "[FS] [CANADA to CANADA or USA] [RING] Moissanite Marquise & Round Eternity Band 14K Yellow Gold, Size 7.75") | Item Details: submitted by No_Lifeguard2189 to MoissaniteBST [link] [comments] Stone type: GH, VVSI Moissanite Size: Round 1.9mm • Marquise 1.9mm*4mm Shape: Marquise and round Metal Type: 14K yellow gold setting Band size: 7.75 but could fit a size 8 finger Setting type: Eternity Photos: Verification photo, personal photos, proof of purchase. Verification photo: Above. Source: Gemsodes on Etsy. Selling Price: $250 USD ($340 CAD) plus shipping at buyer’s expense. Shipping Cost & Method: Will ship via Canada Post at buyer’s expense. What is Included: Ring, box Condition of the Item: Used, Like new (Worn for less than an hour combined and never out of the house). The ring is beautiful but unfortunately is a bit too large for my finger. Because it was a custom piece it could not be returned to the seller. Initially I thought I could live with it but I ended up ordering another band (same one) in a better size. |
2023.05.29 14:49 arknined First Marathon - Race Report - Edinburgh Marathon 28/5/23
## Race Information
* **Name:** Edinburgh Marathon
* **Date:** Sunday May 28, 2023
* **Distance:** 42.2km
* **Location:** Scotland
* **Time:** 03:43:12
* **Gear:** Altra Vanish Carbon
* **StravaURL:** https://www.strava.com/activities/9156827328
## Goals
Goal Description Completed?
------------------
1 Sub 3:25 no
2 Sub 3:45 yes
3 Don’t Walk no
## Splits
Split Time
------------
1 04:22
2 04:25
3 04:20
4 04:34
5 04:35
6 04:24
7 04:41
8 04:31
9 04:41
10 04:35
11 04:42
12 04:39
13 04:44
14 04:41
15 04:46
16 04:43
17 04:49
18 04:50
19 04:49
20 04:53
21 04:56
22 04:54
23 04:58
24 05:03
25 05:11
26 05:12
27 05:18
28 05:19
29 05:17
30 05:24
31 05:24
32 05:42
33 05:56
34 05:57
35 06:51
36 07:22
37 07:03
38 06:34
39 06:30
40 07:32
41 05:38
42 05:49
43 02:36
##Background
Just turned 50 this year (50M) and started running (again) in Oct’22 from a base of zero exercise for the past five years (excepting having 3 small boys (5,7,&9) and the hustle of daily life, family walks, family activities etc. In 2014 I did a couch25k and between 2014-2017 started to run commute into work averaging about 10km per week over this period - (2014 - 900km; 2015 - 500km; 2016 - 650km; 2017 (jan-aug) - 500km). This culminated in a half-marathon race (Rock n Roll Dublin) in 2017 for which I didn’t follow a training plan but did a few longer runs of 13k(ish) and finished in c. 1:48 (ran out of steam at c.19k and had to run/walk a couple of times to finish).
Before 2014 - there was no exercise/running/training/gym - I was relatively ‘active’ but no sports/activities to note.
In October last year (‘22), I decided to go for a run to see how it felt and surprised myself by running 7km @ 6:10/km pace. I enjoyed it, and decided to get back running with a vague aspiration to complete a marathon in my 50th year….
##Training
… so I started training. Decided in November to book a bib in the Edinburgh marathon, figuring that 7 months should give me a decent enough training block. Avg went from 50km/week to 100km/week over this period.
Month Distance Avg Pace
------------------
Nov 216km 6:16/km
Dec 321km 6:07/km
Jan 284km 5:26/km
Feb 237km 5:25/km
Mar 291km 5:19km
Apr 412km 5:07/km
May 305km 5:00/km
Didn’t follow a specific plan (per se), generally ran 5 or 6 days a week with one long run (5:00/km to 5:30/km), one medium/tempo type run (4:40/km to 5:00/km), three easy runs (5:20/km) and a sprinkling of ParkRuns.
I had no (observable) issues in stepping up the mileage over this period, two small injury niggles,one in Nov and one in Feb, and I rested with no reoccurrence of either.
I self-diagnosed regularly occurring foot pain as a Mortons Neuroma (flared up after c.9km and could be run through - but painful) and went through a variety of shoe types to lessen the flare-ups. Settled on Altra’s and roomy footbox, which worked for me.
Parkrun (5k) times went from 25:26 (Oct’22) to 19:06 (May’22) over this period.
Other notable times -
10k times - avg sub-45mins on tempo/fast runs
Half-marathons - (did over 20 runs at this distance over the 7 months) ran x2 sub 1:40 and x1 sub 1:34 during the block (not races, just fast/tempo runs)
In Mar&Apr’23 I completed x5 long runs >30km (longest @33km) and a further x2 (27km & 29km) as part of the build up.
I trained with SIS gels and a water bottle filled with Tailwind mix during the long-runs and they settled ok, a little queasy but ok (I did all other runs (<27km) without nutrition or water)
The <1:35 half-marathon was the last fast/long run before the start of the taper (from 100km to 80km (wk1) to 55km (wk2) to 25km (wk3)).
##Plan & Pre-race
All marathon time predictors (runalyze; metathon; crplots) had me at a 3:10 to 3:12 marathon time based on my strava logs - I felt this was optimistic (4:34/km) as I had a tendency to drift (pace & heartrate) on longer runs. Based on the half-marathon times in the training block I felt i could sustain close to that pace for maybe 30km - but >40km would be a push - so settled on the following plan for race day:
First 16km (10 miles) at 4:40/km, next 16km (10miles) at 4:50/km, last 10km to keep legs moving and hold-on to the finish. Goal A - was to run a sub 3:25.
Pre-race prep was unremarkable - flew to Scotland (from Dublin) on Friday evening - ate well Fri/Sat (lots of pasta, steak, bread) slept ok . Collected bib Saturday morning, pottered around the city for a couple of hours , rested the rest of the day.
Race day morning, grabbed a banana, coffee, croissant - had 500ml of tailwind c. 2 hours before start - greased myself up (sunscreen & anti-chafe), bathroom, checked bag, warmed-up (stretches/gentle jog). Fuelling plan for the race was a gel every 6km topped-up with Tailwind which I carried in a hand-held bottle.
Weather was warm and overcast at the start (10am)
##Race
Start was largely downhill for the first 8km, and I tried to keep the pace under control. Legs felt strong and were turning-over well. Despite best efforts, the combination of the downhill, first marathon excitement, over-confidence, other runners pace, me being an idiot, had the first 8km in c.4:35/km pace - which was faster than intended, but not wildly so. The course then hit the sea front and the breeze helped to take the edge off the pace and I settled into the target pace of 4:40/km (-ish) for the next 8km.
Took the gels at 6km, 12km and 18km and sipped from the hand-held bottle (tailwind) throughout. I grabbed a few gulps from the on-course water as I ran-by. Weather started to warm-up as the sun broke through the clouds.
Hit 16km feeling good - slightly ahead of target pace and the race-plan was to run the second 16km at an avg 4:50/km so I eased off a little to adjust to plan.
Hit half marathon in 1:38ish which was ahead of plan, but I felt ok, knew I had completed a 1:34 half a few weeks back and the race-strategy was to target 4:50/km from 16k to 32k.
Then things changed at around 23/24k mark - legs started to lose some power which came as a surprise, I also started to feel a little nauseous. I skipped taking the planned gel at 24k as i felt i would be ill if i forced it down.
At 25k I just couldn’t hold a sub5:00/km pace at all. I recognised that I was in trouble and it was barely half-way through. Resolved to move to my long-run pace for the training block at 5:20/km and hoped this could see me through to the end. Took a gel at 30k and temperatures were getting warmer. Despite all the difficulties I hit 30k in 2:24 (avg. 4:50km) but i was weakening and getting worried.
When I reached 32k in the marathon I knew I was fucked, pace had slipped to 6:00/km, sun was beating down, other runners were struggling, and I started negotiating with myself to just. keep. running.
By 35k I had to start run/walking as my legs had completely gone. I was gutted but there was nothing left in the tank. Walking through the two water stations I could actually drink the bottles of water and was surprised at how thirsty/dehydrated I was. Pace times dropped off as I continued to run/walk for the next 5k. Nearing the end I gave it everything I had to run the final 2k.
Crossed the finish in 3:43
##Post-Race
Disappointed I couldn't run the whole 42k but recognise sub 3:45 is an achievement for a 50year old (couch to marathon in 7 months).
Hard to rationalise what went wrong here - initial thoughts:
1). Over-fatigued / over-trained - despite feeling strong during training this was not actually the case - taper ineffective (??)
2). Target pace too aggressive - over-confident/ego/greedy - did not respect the distance - went out too fast
3). Fuelling/hydration was wrong - sweated too much -relied on tailwind - did not take enough water on-course - skipped gel at 24k
probably a combination of all of the above factors.....
##Next Steps
i) Rest for a week
ii) Dublin marathon at the end of Oct
iii) Start structured plan Pfitz. 18/55 or 18/70
Made with [Strava race report generator](https://race-report-gen.jezl.xyz/).
submitted by arknined to firstmarathon [link] [comments]
* **Name:** Edinburgh Marathon
* **Date:** Sunday May 28, 2023
* **Distance:** 42.2km
* **Location:** Scotland
* **Time:** 03:43:12
* **Gear:** Altra Vanish Carbon
* **StravaURL:** https://www.strava.com/activities/9156827328
## Goals
Goal Description Completed?
------------------
1 Sub 3:25 no
2 Sub 3:45 yes
3 Don’t Walk no
## Splits
Split Time
------------
1 04:22
2 04:25
3 04:20
4 04:34
5 04:35
6 04:24
7 04:41
8 04:31
9 04:41
10 04:35
11 04:42
12 04:39
13 04:44
14 04:41
15 04:46
16 04:43
17 04:49
18 04:50
19 04:49
20 04:53
21 04:56
22 04:54
23 04:58
24 05:03
25 05:11
26 05:12
27 05:18
28 05:19
29 05:17
30 05:24
31 05:24
32 05:42
33 05:56
34 05:57
35 06:51
36 07:22
37 07:03
38 06:34
39 06:30
40 07:32
41 05:38
42 05:49
43 02:36
##Background
Just turned 50 this year (50M) and started running (again) in Oct’22 from a base of zero exercise for the past five years (excepting having 3 small boys (5,7,&9) and the hustle of daily life, family walks, family activities etc. In 2014 I did a couch25k and between 2014-2017 started to run commute into work averaging about 10km per week over this period - (2014 - 900km; 2015 - 500km; 2016 - 650km; 2017 (jan-aug) - 500km). This culminated in a half-marathon race (Rock n Roll Dublin) in 2017 for which I didn’t follow a training plan but did a few longer runs of 13k(ish) and finished in c. 1:48 (ran out of steam at c.19k and had to run/walk a couple of times to finish).
Before 2014 - there was no exercise/running/training/gym - I was relatively ‘active’ but no sports/activities to note.
In October last year (‘22), I decided to go for a run to see how it felt and surprised myself by running 7km @ 6:10/km pace. I enjoyed it, and decided to get back running with a vague aspiration to complete a marathon in my 50th year….
##Training
… so I started training. Decided in November to book a bib in the Edinburgh marathon, figuring that 7 months should give me a decent enough training block. Avg went from 50km/week to 100km/week over this period.
Month Distance Avg Pace
------------------
Nov 216km 6:16/km
Dec 321km 6:07/km
Jan 284km 5:26/km
Feb 237km 5:25/km
Mar 291km 5:19km
Apr 412km 5:07/km
May 305km 5:00/km
Didn’t follow a specific plan (per se), generally ran 5 or 6 days a week with one long run (5:00/km to 5:30/km), one medium/tempo type run (4:40/km to 5:00/km), three easy runs (5:20/km) and a sprinkling of ParkRuns.
I had no (observable) issues in stepping up the mileage over this period, two small injury niggles,one in Nov and one in Feb, and I rested with no reoccurrence of either.
I self-diagnosed regularly occurring foot pain as a Mortons Neuroma (flared up after c.9km and could be run through - but painful) and went through a variety of shoe types to lessen the flare-ups. Settled on Altra’s and roomy footbox, which worked for me.
Parkrun (5k) times went from 25:26 (Oct’22) to 19:06 (May’22) over this period.
Other notable times -
10k times - avg sub-45mins on tempo/fast runs
Half-marathons - (did over 20 runs at this distance over the 7 months) ran x2 sub 1:40 and x1 sub 1:34 during the block (not races, just fast/tempo runs)
In Mar&Apr’23 I completed x5 long runs >30km (longest @33km) and a further x2 (27km & 29km) as part of the build up.
I trained with SIS gels and a water bottle filled with Tailwind mix during the long-runs and they settled ok, a little queasy but ok (I did all other runs (<27km) without nutrition or water)
The <1:35 half-marathon was the last fast/long run before the start of the taper (from 100km to 80km (wk1) to 55km (wk2) to 25km (wk3)).
##Plan & Pre-race
All marathon time predictors (runalyze; metathon; crplots) had me at a 3:10 to 3:12 marathon time based on my strava logs - I felt this was optimistic (4:34/km) as I had a tendency to drift (pace & heartrate) on longer runs. Based on the half-marathon times in the training block I felt i could sustain close to that pace for maybe 30km - but >40km would be a push - so settled on the following plan for race day:
First 16km (10 miles) at 4:40/km, next 16km (10miles) at 4:50/km, last 10km to keep legs moving and hold-on to the finish. Goal A - was to run a sub 3:25.
Pre-race prep was unremarkable - flew to Scotland (from Dublin) on Friday evening - ate well Fri/Sat (lots of pasta, steak, bread) slept ok . Collected bib Saturday morning, pottered around the city for a couple of hours , rested the rest of the day.
Race day morning, grabbed a banana, coffee, croissant - had 500ml of tailwind c. 2 hours before start - greased myself up (sunscreen & anti-chafe), bathroom, checked bag, warmed-up (stretches/gentle jog). Fuelling plan for the race was a gel every 6km topped-up with Tailwind which I carried in a hand-held bottle.
Weather was warm and overcast at the start (10am)
##Race
Start was largely downhill for the first 8km, and I tried to keep the pace under control. Legs felt strong and were turning-over well. Despite best efforts, the combination of the downhill, first marathon excitement, over-confidence, other runners pace, me being an idiot, had the first 8km in c.4:35/km pace - which was faster than intended, but not wildly so. The course then hit the sea front and the breeze helped to take the edge off the pace and I settled into the target pace of 4:40/km (-ish) for the next 8km.
Took the gels at 6km, 12km and 18km and sipped from the hand-held bottle (tailwind) throughout. I grabbed a few gulps from the on-course water as I ran-by. Weather started to warm-up as the sun broke through the clouds.
Hit 16km feeling good - slightly ahead of target pace and the race-plan was to run the second 16km at an avg 4:50/km so I eased off a little to adjust to plan.
Hit half marathon in 1:38ish which was ahead of plan, but I felt ok, knew I had completed a 1:34 half a few weeks back and the race-strategy was to target 4:50/km from 16k to 32k.
Then things changed at around 23/24k mark - legs started to lose some power which came as a surprise, I also started to feel a little nauseous. I skipped taking the planned gel at 24k as i felt i would be ill if i forced it down.
At 25k I just couldn’t hold a sub5:00/km pace at all. I recognised that I was in trouble and it was barely half-way through. Resolved to move to my long-run pace for the training block at 5:20/km and hoped this could see me through to the end. Took a gel at 30k and temperatures were getting warmer. Despite all the difficulties I hit 30k in 2:24 (avg. 4:50km) but i was weakening and getting worried.
When I reached 32k in the marathon I knew I was fucked, pace had slipped to 6:00/km, sun was beating down, other runners were struggling, and I started negotiating with myself to just. keep. running.
By 35k I had to start run/walking as my legs had completely gone. I was gutted but there was nothing left in the tank. Walking through the two water stations I could actually drink the bottles of water and was surprised at how thirsty/dehydrated I was. Pace times dropped off as I continued to run/walk for the next 5k. Nearing the end I gave it everything I had to run the final 2k.
Crossed the finish in 3:43
##Post-Race
Disappointed I couldn't run the whole 42k but recognise sub 3:45 is an achievement for a 50year old (couch to marathon in 7 months).
Hard to rationalise what went wrong here - initial thoughts:
1). Over-fatigued / over-trained - despite feeling strong during training this was not actually the case - taper ineffective (??)
2). Target pace too aggressive - over-confident/ego/greedy - did not respect the distance - went out too fast
3). Fuelling/hydration was wrong - sweated too much -relied on tailwind - did not take enough water on-course - skipped gel at 24k
probably a combination of all of the above factors.....
##Next Steps
i) Rest for a week
ii) Dublin marathon at the end of Oct
iii) Start structured plan Pfitz. 18/55 or 18/70
Made with [Strava race report generator](https://race-report-gen.jezl.xyz/).
2023.05.29 14:39 Dependent-Mousse-235 Fashion and Holowear tickets
It's probably a common subject and almost everyone is probably sick of hearing it.....but for the love of Arceus, can we get something to spend these god damn tickets on.....Or at least let us sell them or something....Spinning the energy rewards to bypass the "Hey sorry, you can only get 2100 coins per week, new pokemon costs 14k? Guess you better play for 7 weeks then" by getting the coins from the spin and kapow....Double detective Garchomp in a 5 spin....Like really? But for real Tencent for the love of god, update the damn Ticket stores that haven't changed since release, im sat on 550 Holo and 1361 Fashion, let me spend the damn things SOMEWHERE or exchange them for gold.....I know I'm not alone in thinking this.
P.S. HINT HINT WINK WINK NUDGE NUDGE Listen to your playera
submitted by Dependent-Mousse-235 to PokemonUnite [link] [comments]
P.S. HINT HINT WINK WINK NUDGE NUDGE Listen to your playera
2023.05.29 14:34 arknined Edinburgh Marathon - Couch to 1st Marathon in 7 months
Edinburgh Marathon
Race Information
- Name: Edinburgh Marathon
- Date: Sunday May 28, 2023
- Distance: 42.2km
- Location: Scotland
- Time: 03:43:12
- Gear: Altra Vanish Carbon
- StravaURL: https://www.strava.com/activities/9156827328
Goals
| Goal | Description | Completed? |
|---|---|---|
| 1 | Sub 3:25 | no |
| 2 | Sub 3:45 | yes |
| 3 | Don’t Walk | no |
Splits
| Split | Time |
|---|---|
| 1 | 04:22 |
| 2 | 04:25 |
| 3 | 04:20 |
| 4 | 04:34 |
| 5 | 04:35 |
| 6 | 04:24 |
| 7 | 04:41 |
| 8 | 04:31 |
| 9 | 04:41 |
| 10 | 04:35 |
| 11 | 04:42 |
| 12 | 04:39 |
| 13 | 04:44 |
| 14 | 04:41 |
| 15 | 04:46 |
| 16 | 04:43 |
| 17 | 04:49 |
| 18 | 04:50 |
| 19 | 04:49 |
| 20 | 04:53 |
| 21 | 04:56 |
| 22 | 04:54 |
| 23 | 04:58 |
| 24 | 05:03 |
| 25 | 05:11 |
| 26 | 05:12 |
| 27 | 05:18 |
| 28 | 05:19 |
| 29 | 05:17 |
| 30 | 05:24 |
| 31 | 05:24 |
| 32 | 05:42 |
| 33 | 05:56 |
| 34 | 05:57 |
| 35 | 06:51 |
| 36 | 07:22 |
| 37 | 07:03 |
| 38 | 06:34 |
| 39 | 06:30 |
| 40 | 07:32 |
| 41 | 05:38 |
| 42 | 05:49 |
| 43 | 02:36 |
Background
Just turned 50 this year (50M) and started running (again) in Oct’22 from a base of zero exercise for the past five years (excepting having 3 small boys (5,7,&9) and the hustle of daily life, family walks, family activities etc. In 2014 I did a couch25k and between 2014-2017 started to run commute into work averaging about 10km per week over this period - (2014 - 900km; 2015 - 500km; 2016 - 650km; 2017 (jan-aug) - 500km). This culminated in a half-marathon race (Rock n Roll Dublin) in 2017 for which I didn’t follow a training plan but did a few longer runs of 13k(ish) and finished in c. 1:48 (ran out of steam at c.19k and had to run/walk a couple of times to finish).Before 2014 - there was no exercise/running/training/gym - I was relatively ‘active’ but no sports/activities to note.
In October last year (‘22), I decided to go for a run to see how it felt and surprised myself by running 7km @ 6:10/km pace. I enjoyed it, and decided to get back running with a vague aspiration to complete a marathon in my 50th year….
Training
… so I started training. Decided in November to book a bib in the Edinburgh marathon, figuring that 7 months should give me a decent enough training block. Avg went from 50km/week to 100km/week over this period.| Month | Distance | Avg Pace |
|---|---|---|
| Nov | 216km | 6:16/km |
| Dec | 321km | 6:07/km |
| Jan | 284km | 5:26/km |
| Feb | 237km | 5:25/km |
| Mar | 291km | 5:19km |
| Apr | 412km | 5:07/km |
| May | 305km | 5:00/km |
I had no (observable) issues in stepping up the mileage over this period, two small injury niggles,one in Nov and one in Feb, and I rested with no reoccurrence of either.
I self-diagnosed regularly occurring foot pain as a Mortons Neuroma (flared up after c.9km and could be run through - but painful) and went through a variety of shoe types to lessen the flare-ups. Settled on Altra’s and roomy footbox, which worked for me.
Parkrun (5k) times went from 25:26 (Oct’22) to 19:06 (May’22) over this period.
Other notable times -
10k times - avg sub-45mins on tempo/fast runs
Half-marathons - (did over 20 runs at this distance over the 7 months) ran x2 sub 1:40 and x1 sub 1:34 during the block (not races, just fast/tempo runs)
In Mar&Apr’23 I completed x5 long runs >30km (longest @33km) and a further x2 (27km & 29km) as part of the build up.
I trained with SIS gels and a water bottle filled with Tailwind mix during the long-runs and they settled ok, a little queasy but ok (I did all other runs (<27km) without nutrition or water)
The <1:35 half-marathon was the last fast/long run before the start of the taper (from 100km to 80km (wk1) to 55km (wk2) to 25km (wk3)).
Plan & Pre-race
All marathon time predictors (runalyze; metathon; crplots) had me at a 3:10 to 3:12 marathon time based on my strava logs - I felt this was optimistic (4:34/km) as I had a tendency to drift (pace & heartrate) on longer runs. Based on the half-marathon times in the training block I felt i could sustain close to that pace for maybe 30km - but >40km would be a push - so settled on the following plan for race day:First 16km (10 miles) at 4:40/km, next 16km (10miles) at 4:50/km, last 10km to keep legs moving and hold-on to the finish. Goal A - was to run a sub 3:25.
Pre-race prep was unremarkable - flew to Scotland (from Dublin) on Friday evening - ate well Fri/Sat (lots of pasta, steak, bread) slept ok . Collected bib Saturday morning, pottered around the city for a couple of hours , rested the rest of the day.
Race day morning, grabbed a banana, coffee, croissant - had 500ml of tailwind c. 2 hours before start - greased myself up (sunscreen & anti-chafe), bathroom, checked bag, warmed-up (stretches/gentle jog). Fuelling plan for the race was a gel every 6km topped-up with Tailwind which I carried in a hand-held bottle.
Weather was warm and overcast at the start (10am)
Race
Start was largely downhill for the first 8km, and I tried to keep the pace under control. Legs felt strong and were turning-over well. Despite best efforts, the combination of the downhill, first marathon excitement, over-confidence, other runners pace, me being an idiot, had the first 8km in c.4:35/km pace - which was faster than intended, but not wildly so. The course then hit the sea front and the breeze helped to take the edge off the pace and I settled into the target pace of 4:40/km (-ish) for the next 8km.Took the gels at 6km, 12km and 18km and sipped from the hand-held bottle (tailwind) throughout. I grabbed a few gulps from the on-course water as I ran-by. Weather started to warm-up as the sun broke through the clouds.
Hit 16km feeling good - slightly ahead of target pace and the race-plan was to run the second 16km at an avg 4:50/km so I eased off a little to adjust to plan. Hit half marathon in 1:38ish which was ahead of plan, but I felt ok, knew I had completed a 1:34 half a few weeks back and the race-strategy was to target 4:50/km from 16k to 32k.
Then things changed at around 23/24k mark - legs started to lose some power which came as a surprise, I also started to feel a little nauseous. I skipped taking the planned gel at 24k as i felt i would be ill if i forced it down.
At 25k I just couldn’t hold a sub5:00/km pace at all. I recognised that I was in trouble and it was barely half-way through. Resolved to move to my long-run pace for the training block at 5:20/km and hoped this could see me through to the end. Took a gel at 30k and temperatures were getting warmer. Despite all the difficulties I hit 30k in 2:24 (avg. 4:50km) but i was weakening and getting worried.
When I reached 32k in the marathon I knew I was fucked, pace had slipped to 6:00/km, sun was beating down, other runners were struggling, and I started negotiating with myself to just. keep. running.
By 35k I had to start run/walking as my legs had completely gone. I was gutted but there was nothing left in the tank. Walking through the two water stations I could actually drink the bottles of water and was surprised at how thirsty/dehydrated I was. Pace times dropped off as I continued to run/walk for the next 5k. Nearing the end I gave it everything I had to run the final 2k.
Crossed the finish in 3:43
Post-Race
Disappointed I couldn't run the whole 42k but recognise sub 3:45 is an achievement for a 50year old (couch to marathon in 7 months).Hard to rationalise what went wrong here - initial thoughts:
1). Over-fatigued / over-trained - despite feeling strong during training this was not actually the case - taper ineffective (??)
2). Target pace too aggressive - over-confident/ego/greedy - did not respect the distance - went out too fast
3). Fuelling/hydration was wrong - sweated too much -relied on tailwind - did not take enough water on-course - skipped gel at 24k
probably a combination of all of the above factors.....
Next Steps
i) Rest for a week ii) Dublin marathon at the end of Oct iii) Start structured plan Pfitz. 18/55 or 18/70Made with Strava race report generator.