Nissan versa spark plug socket size

Magnetic spark plug socket extension?

2023.06.02 16:38 Turbulent-Papaya-910 Magnetic spark plug socket extension?

Hello all,
I am a newcomer to doing it myself, but I feel like I'm asking questions that may have obvious answers to them.
Since I didn't have one, I was trying to find a spark plug extension, and all I was immediately able to find was magnetic extension, which I bought.
Will this work with both removing the old and installing the new plugs, or should I look for a non magnetic extension?
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2023.06.02 10:21 lazymentors Tiktok is launching AI Chatbot & Pinterest just changed the algorithm (Hot Changes In Marketing)

Top 5 Updates of last Week:

Google:

Tiktok:

Instagram

Meta :

Twitter:

YouTube:

LinkedIn:

Snapchat:

Reddit:

Advertising:

Sales:

Microsoft & AI

Pinterest:

Marketing:

What are your thoughts on all these recent updates and changes?
PS: You can ask for links and subscribe to the weekly newsletter (link in my bio) for next week’s recap.
submitted by lazymentors to DigitalMarketing [link] [comments]

2023.06.02 10:20 lazymentors Tiktok is launching AI Chatbot & Pinterest just changed the algorithm (Hot Changes In Marketing)

Top 5 Updates of last Week:

Google:

Tiktok:

Instagram

Meta :

Twitter:

YouTube:

LinkedIn:

Snapchat:

Reddit:

Advertising:

Sales:

Microsoft & AI

Pinterest:

Marketing:

What are your thoughts on all these recent updates and changes?
PS: You can ask for links and subscribe to the weekly newsletter (link in my bio) for next week’s recap.
submitted by lazymentors to adops [link] [comments]

2023.06.02 10:19 lazymentors Tiktok is launching AI Chatbot & Pinterest just changed the algorithm (Hot Changes In Marketing)

Top 5 Updates of last Week:

Google:

Tiktok:

Instagram

Meta :

Twitter:

YouTube:

LinkedIn:

Snapchat:

Reddit:

Advertising:

Sales:

Microsoft & AI

Pinterest:

Marketing:

What are your thoughts on all these recent updates and changes?
PS: You can ask for links and subscribe to the weekly newsletter (link in my bio) for next week’s recap.
submitted by lazymentors to marketing [link] [comments]

2023.06.01 23:52 AquariusJoe253 Spark plug questions for a 2016 ram 1500 3.6L V6 engine

Spark plug questions for a 2016 ram 1500 3.6L V6 engine
I’ve been getting bad gas mileage on my truck since I bought it. I’ve been getting a combine of 14.8mpg. It had 97,578 miles when I bought it and I assume it’s about time for new spark plugs. When I took off one of the spark plug boot I saw it had this black gunk on some of it. Is this bad? Also what socket size should I use to remove the spark plugs?
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2023.06.01 22:08 Last_Animal7899 What spark plug socket do i need for the N14?

submitted by Last_Animal7899 to MINI [link] [comments]

2023.06.01 21:24 RandomAppalachian468 Don't fly over Barron County Ohio. [Repost]

The whirring blades of my MD-902 throbbed against the warm evening air, and I smiled.
From 5,000 feet, the ground flew by in a carpet of dark forests and kelly-green fields. The sun hung low on the horizon in a picturesque array of dazzling orange and gold, and I could make out the narrow strip of the Ohio River to my left, glistening in the fading daylight. This time of year, the trees would be full of the sweet aroma of fresh blossoms, and the frequent rains kept small pockets of fluffy white mist hanging in the treetops. It was a beautiful view, one that reminded me of why being a helicopter pilot trumped flying in a jumbo jet far above the clouds every day of the week.
Fourteen more days, and I’m debt free.
That made me grin even more. I’d been working as a charter pilot ever since I obtained my license at age 19, and after years of keeping my nose to the grindstone, I was closing on the final payment for real-estate in western Pennsylvania. With no debt, a fixer-upper house on 30 rural acres all to myself, and a respectable wage for a 26-year-old pilot, I looked forward to the financial freedom I could now enjoy. Maybe I’d take a vacation, somewhere exotic like Venice Italy, or the Dominican Republic. Or perhaps I’d sock the money back for the day I started a family.
“Remember kleineun, a real man looks after his own.”
My elderly ouma’s voice came back from the depths of my memories, her proud, sun-tanned face rising from the darkness. She and my Rhodesian grandfather had emigrated to the US when they were newlyweds, as the violence against white Boer descendants in South Africa spiraled out of control. My mother and father both died in a car crash when I was six, and it had been my grandparents who raised me. Due to this, I’d grown up with a slight accent that many of my classmates found amusing, and I could speak both English, and Afrikaans, the Boer tongue of our former home.
I shifted in my seat, stretched my back muscles, and glanced at the picture taped to my console. Both my parents flanked a grinning, gap-toothed six-year-old me, at the last Christmas we’d spent together. My mother beamed, her dark hair and Italian features a sharp contrast to my father’s sandy blonde hair and blue eyes. Sometimes, I liked to imagine they were smiling at me with pride at how well I flew the old silver-colored bird my company had assigned to me, and that made the long, lonely flights easier to bear.
A flicker caught my eye, and I broke my gaze away from the photograph.
Perched in its small cradle above the controls, my little black Garmin fuzzed over for a few seconds, its screen shifting from brightly colored maps to a barrage of grey static.
Did the power chord come loose?
I checked, ensuring the power-cable for the unit’s battery was plugged into the port on the control panel. It was a brand-new GPS unit, and I’d used it a few times already, so I knew it wasn’t defective. Granted, I could fly and navigate without it, but the Garmin made my time as a pilot so much easier that the thought of going blind was dreadful.
My fuel gauge danced, clicked to empty, then to full, in a bizarre jolt.
More of the gauges began to stutter, the entire panel seeming to develop terrets all at once, and my pulse began to race. Something was wrong, very wrong, and the sludge inside my bowels churned with sour fear.
“Come on, come on.” I flicked switches, turned dials, punched buttons, but nothing seemed to fix the spasming electronics. Every gauge failed, and without warning, I found myself plunged into inky darkness.
Outside, the sun surrendered to the pull of night, the sky darker than usual. A distant rumble of thunder reverberated above the roar of my helicopter’s engine, and I thought I glimpsed a streak of yellowish lightning on the far horizon to my left.
Calm down Chris. We’re still flying, so it must just be a blown fuse. Stay in control and find a place to set her down.
My sweaty palm slid on the cyclic stick, and both feet weighed heavy on the yaw pedals. The collective stuck to my other hand with a nervous vibration, and I squinted against the abyss outside.
Beep.
I jumped despite myself, as the little Garmin on my panel flared back to life, the static pulling aside to reveal a twitching display. Each time the screen glitched, it showed the colorful map detailing my flight path over the ground below, but I noticed that some of the lines changed, the names shifting, as if the device couldn’t decide between two different versions of the world.
One name jutted out at me, slate gray like most of the major county names, appearing with ghostly flickers from between two neighboring ones.
Barron County.
I stared, confused. I’d flown over this section of southeastern Ohio plenty of times, and I knew the counties by heart. At this point, I should have been over the southern end of Noble County, and maybe dipping lower into Washington. There was no Barron County Ohio. I was sure of it.
And yet it shown back at me from the digital landscape, a strange, almost cigar-shaped chunk of terrain carved from the surrounding counties like a tumor, sometimes there, sometimes not, as my little Garmin struggled to find the correct map. Rain began to patter against my cockpit window, and the entire aircraft rattled from a strong gust of wind. Thick clouds closed over my field of vision like a sea of gray cotton.
The blood in my veins turned to ice, and I sucked in a nervous breath.
Land. I had to land. There was nothing else to do, my flight controls weren’t responding, and only my Garmin had managed to come back to life. Perhaps I’d been hit by lightning, and the electronics had been fried? Either way, it was too dark to tell, but a storm seemed to be brewing, and if I didn’t get my feet on the ground soon, I could be in real trouble.
“Better safe than sorry.” I pushed down on the collective to start my slow descent and clicked the talking button for my headset. “Any station, this is Douglass Three-One-Four-Foxtrot, over.”
Nothing.
“Any station, this is Douglass Three-One-Four-Foxtrot, requesting emergency assistance, over.”
Still nothing.
If the radio’s dead, I’m really up a creek.
With my hand shaking, I clicked on the mic one more time. “Any station, this is—”
Like a curtain pulling back, the fog cleared from around my window, and the words stuck in my throat.
Without my gauges, I couldn’t tell just how far I’d descended, but I was definitely very low. Thick trees poked up from the ground, and the hills rolled into high ridges with flat valley floors, fields and pastures pockmarking them. Rain fell all around in cold, silvery sheets, a normal feature for the mid spring in this part of Ohio.
What wasn’t normal, were the fires.
At first, I thought they were forest fires for the amount of smoke and flames that bellowed from each spot, but as I swooped lower, my eyes widened in horror.
They were houses.
Farms, cottages, little clusters that barely constituted villages, all of them belched orange flames and black pillars of sooty smoke. I couldn’t hear above the helicopter blades, but I could see the flashes on the ground, along the road, in between the trees, and even coming from the burning buildings, little jets of golden light that spat into the darkness with anger.
Gunfire. That’s rifle fire, a whole lot of it.
Tiny black figures darted through the shadows, barely discernable from where I sat, several hundred feet up. I couldn’t see much, but some were definitely running away, the streaks of yellow gunfire chasing them. A few dark gray vehicles rumbled down one of the gravel roads, and sprayed fire into the houses as it went. They were fighting, I realized, the people in the trucks and the locals. It was horrific, like something out of war-torn Afghanistan, but worse.
Then, I caught a glimpse of the others.
They didn’t move like the rest, who either fled from the dark vehicles, or fired back from behind cover. These skinny figures loped along with haphazard gaits, many running on all fours like animals, swarming from the trees by the dozens. They threw themselves into the gales of bullets without flinching, attacking anyone within range, and something about the way they moved, so fluid, so fearless, made my heart skip a beat.
What is that?
“Echo Four Actual to unknown caller, please respond, over.”
Choking back a cry of shock, I fumbled at the control panel with clumsy fingers, the man’s voice sharp and stern. I hadn’t realized that I’d let go of the talking button and clicked it down again. “Hello? Hello, this is Douglass Three-One-Four-Foxtrot out of Pittsburgh, over.”
An excruciating moment passed, and I continued to zoom over the trees, the fires falling away behind me as more silent forest took over.
“Roger that Douglass Three-One-Four-Foxtrot, we read you loud and clear. Please identify yourself and any passengers or cargo you might be carrying, over.”
Swallowing hard, I eyed the treetops, which looked much closer than they should have been. How far had I descended? “Echo Four Actual, my name is Christopher Dekker, and I am alone. I’m a charter flight from PA, carrying medical equipment for OSU in Columbus. My controls have been damaged, and I am unable to safely carry on due to the storm. Requesting permission to land, over.”
I watched the landscape slide by underneath me, once catching sight of what looked like a little white church surrounded by smaller huts, dozens of figures in the yard staring up at me as I flew over a towering ridgeline.
“Solid copy on that Douglass Three-One-Four-Foxtrot. Be advised, your transponder shows you to be inside a restricted zone. Please cease all radio traffic, reduce your speed, climb to 3,000 feet and proceed north. We’ll talk you in from there. How copy, over?”
My heart jumped, and I let out a sigh of relief. “Roger that Echo Four Actual, my altimeter is down, but I’ll do my best to eyeball the altitude, over.”
With that, I pulled the collective upward, and tried my best to gauge how far I was by eyesight in the gathering night, rain still coming down all around me. This had to be some kind of disaster or riot, I decided. After all, the voice over the radio sounded like military, and those vehicles seemed to have heavy weapons. Maybe there was some kind of unrest going on here that I hadn’t heard about yet?
Kind of weird for it to happen in rural areas though. Spoiled college kids I get, but never saw farmers get so worked up before. They usually love the military.
Something moved in the corner of my eye, and I turned out of reflex.
My mouth fell open, and I froze, unable to scream.
In the sky beside me, a huge shadow glided along, and its leathery wings effortlessly carved through the gloom, flapping only on occasion to keep it aloft. It was too dark for me to see what color it was, but from the way it moved, I knew it wasn’t another helicopter. No, this thing was alive, easily the size of a small plane, and more than twice the length of my little McDonald Douglass. A long tail trailed behind it, and bore a distinct arrow-shaped snout, with twig-like spines fanned out around the back of its head. Whatever legs it had were drawn up under it like a bird, yet its skin appeared rough and knobby, almost resembling tree bark. Without pause, the gigantic bat-winged entity flew along beside me, as if my presence was on par with an annoying fly buzzing about its head.
Gripping the microphone switch so tight, I thought I’d crack the plastic, I whispered into my headset, forgetting all radio protocol. “T-There’s something up here.”
Static crackled.
“Douglas Three-One-Four-Foxtrot, say again your last, you’re coming in weak and unreadable, over.”
“There’s something up here.” I snarled into the headset, still glued to the controls of the helicopter, afraid to deviate even an inch from my course in case the monstrosity decided to turn on me. “A freaking huge thing, right beside me. I swear, it looks like a bat or . . . I don’t know.”
“Calm down.” The man on the other end of the radio broke his rigorous discipline as well, his voice deep, but level. “It won’t attack if you don’t move too fast. Slowly ease away from it and follow that course until you’re out of sight.”
I didn’t have time to think about how wrong that sounded, how the man’s strict tone had changed to one of knowledge, how he hadn’t been the least surprised by what I’d said. Instead, I slowly turned the helicopter away from the huge menace and edged the speed higher in tiny increments.
As soon as I was roughly two football fields away, I let myself relax, and clicked the mic switch. “It’s not following.”
“You’re sure?”
Eyeing the huge flapping wings, I nodded, then remembered he couldn’t see me. “Yeah, I’m well clear.”
“Good. Thank you, Mr. Dekker.”
Then, the radio went dead.
Something in my chest dropped, a weight that made my stomach roil. This wasn’t right, none of it. Who was that man? Why did he know about the thing I’d just seen? What was I supposed to—
A flash of light exploded from the trees to my right and shot into the air with a long finger of smoke.
What the . . .
On instinct, I jerked the cyclic stick to one side, and the helicopter swung to avoid the rocket.
Boom.
My world shook, metal screeched, and a dozen alarms began to go off inside the cockpit in a cacophony of beeps and sirens. Orange and red flames lit up the night sky just behind me, and the horizon started to spin wildly outside. Heat gushed from the cockpit door, and I smelled the greasy stench of burning oil. The safety belts dug into my shoulders, and with a final slip, the radio headset ripped free from my scalp.
I’m hit.
Desperate, I yanked on the controls, fought the bird even as she spun toward the ground in a wreath of flames, the inky black trees hurtling up to meet me. The helicopter went into full auto-rotation, the sky blurring past outside, and the alarms blared in a screech of doom. Panic slammed through my temples, I screamed at the top of my lungs, and for one brief second, my eyes locked on the little black Garmin still perched atop my control panel.
Its screen stopped twitching and settled on a map of the mysterious Barron County, with a little red arrow at the center of the screen, a few words popping up underneath it.
You are here.
Trees stabbed up into the sky, the belts crushed at my torso, glass shattered all around me, and the world went dark.
Copper, thick, warm, and tangy.
It filled my mouth, stank metallic in my nose, clogged my throat, choking me. In the murkiness, I fought for a surface, for a way out, blind and numb in the dark.
This way, kleineun.
My ouma’s voice echoed from somewhere in the shadows.
This way.
Both eyes flew open, and I gagged, spitting out a stream of red.
Pain throbbed in my ribs, and a heavy pressure sent a tingling numbness through my shoulders. Blood roared inside my temples, and stars danced before my eyes with a dizzying array. Humid night air kissed my skin, and something sticky coated my face, neck, and arms that hung straight up toward the ceiling.
Wait. Not up. Down.
I blinked at the wrinkled, torn ceiling of the cockpit, the glass all gone, the gray aluminum shredded like tissue paper. Just outside the broken windows, thick Appalachian bluegrass and stemmy underbrush swished in a feeble breeze, backlit by flashes of lightning from the thunderstorm overhead. Green and brown leaves covered everything in a wet carpet of triangles, and somewhere nearby, a cricket chirped.
Turning my head from side to side, I realized that I hung upside down inside the ruined helicopter, the top half burrowed into the mud. I could hear the hissing and crackling of flames, the pattering of rain falling on the hot aluminum, and the smaller brush fires around the downed aircraft sizzling out in the damp long grass. Charred steel and burning oil tainted the air, almost as strong as the metallic, coppery stench in my aching nose.
They shot me down. That military dude shot me out of the sky.
It didn’t make sense. I’d followed their orders, done everything they’d said, and yet the instant I veered safely away from whatever that thing in the sky had been, they’d fired, not at it, but at me.
Looking down (or rather, up) at my chest, I sucked in a gasp, which was harder to do that before.
The navy-blue shirt stuck to my torso with several big splotches of dark, rusty red. Most were clean slashes, but two held bits of glass sticking out of them, one alarmingly bigger than the other. They dripped cherry red blood onto my upturned face, and a wave of nausea hit me.
I gotta get down.
I flexed my arms to try and work some feeling back into them, praying nothing was broken. Half-numb from hanging so long, I palmed along my aching body until I felt the buckled for the seat belts.
“Okay.” I hissed between gritted teeth, in an effort to stave off my panic. “You can do this. Just hold on tight. Nice and tight. Here we go . . .”
Click.
Everything seemed to lurch, and I slid off the seat to plummet towards the muck-filled hole in the cockpit ceiling. My fingers were slick with blood and slipped over the smooth faux-leather pilot’s seat with ease. The shoulder belt snagged on the bits of glass that lay just under the left lowest rib, and a flare of white-hot pain ripped through me.
Wham.
I screamed, my right knee caught the edge of the aluminum ceiling, and both hands dove into a mound of leaf-covered glass shards on the opposite side of the hole. My head swam, being right-side-up again enough to make shadows gnaw at the corner of my eyes.
Forcing myself to breath slowly, I fought the urge to faint and slid back to sit on the smooth ceiling. I turned my hands over to see half a dozen bits of clear glass burrowed into my skin like greedy parasites, red blood weeping around the new cuts.
“Screw you.” I spat at the rubbish with angry tears in my eyes. “Screw you, screw you, screw you.”
The shards came out easy enough, and the cuts weren’t that deep, but that wasn’t what worried me. On my chest, the single piece of cockpit glass that remined was almost as big as my palm, and it really hurt. Just touching it felt like self-inflicted torture, but I knew it had to come out sooner or later.
Please don’t nick a vein.
Wiping my hands dry on my jeans, I gripped the shard with both hands, and jerked.
Fire roared over my ribs, and hot blood tickled my already grimy pale skin. I clapped a hand over the wound, pressing down hard, and grunted out a string of hateful expletives that my ouma would have slapped me for.
Lying on my back, I stared around me at the messy cargo compartment of the MD-902. Most of the medical supplies had been in cardboard boxes strapped down with heavy nylon tow-straps, but several cases had ruptured with the force of the impact, spraying bandages, syringes, and pill bottles all over the cluttered interior. Orange flames chewed at the crate furthest to the rear, the tail section long gone, but the foremost part of the hold was intact. Easily a million-dollar mess, it would have made me faint on any other trip, but today it was a godsend.
Half-blind in the darkness, I crawled along with only the firelight and lightning bolts to guide me, my right knee aching. Like a crippled raccoon, I collected things as I went, conscious of the two pallets of intact supplies weighing right over my head. I’d taken several different first-aid courses with some hunting buddies of mine, and the mental reflexes kicked in to help soothe my frazzled mind.
Check for bleeds, stop the worst, then move on.
Aside from my battered chest and stomach, the rest of me remained mostly unharmed. I had nasty bruises from the seatbelts, my right knee swelled, my nose slightly crooked and crusted in blood, but otherwise I was intact. Dowsing every scratch and cut with a bottle of isopropyl alcohol I found, I used butterfly closures on the smaller lacerations that peppered my skin. I wrapped soft white gauze over my abused palms and probed at the big cut where the last shard had been, only stopping when I was sure there were no pieces of glass wedged inside my flesh.
“Not too bad.” I grunted to myself, trying to sound impassive like a doctor might. “Rib must have stopped it. Gonna need stitches though. That’ll be fun.”
Pawing through the broken cases, I couldn’t find any suture chord, but just as I was about to give up, I noticed a small box that read ‘medical skin stapler’.
Bingo.
I tore the small white plastic stapler free from its packaging and eyeballed the device. I’d never done this before, only seen it in movies, and even though the cut in my skin hurt, I wondered if this wouldn’t be worse.
You’ve gotta do it. That bleeding needs to stop. Besides, no one’s coming to rescue you, not with those rocket-launching psychos out there.
Taking a deep breath, I pinched the skin around the gash together, and pressed the mouth of the stapler to it.
Click.
A sharp sting, like that of a needle bit at the skin, but it didn’t hurt nearly as bad as the cut itself. I worked my way across the two-inch laceration and gave out a sigh of relief when it was done.
“Not going to bleed to death today.” I daubed ointment around the staples before winding more bandages over the wound.
Popping a few low-grade painkillers that tumbled from the cargo, I crawled wriggled through the nearest shattered window into the wet grass.
Raindrops kissed my face, clean and cool on my sweaty skin. Despite the thick cloud cover, there was enough constant lightning strikes within the storm to let me get glimpses of the world around me. My helicopter lay on its back, the blades snapped like pencils, with bits and pieces of it burning in chunks all around the small break in the trees. Chest-high scrub brush grew all around the low-lying ground, with pockets of standing water in places. My ears still rang from the impact of the crash, but I could start to pick up more crickets, frogs, and even some nocturnal birds singing into the darkness, like they didn’t notice the huge the hulk of flaming metal that had fallen from the sky. Overhead, the thunder rumbled onward, the feeble wind whistling, and there were other flashes on the horizon, orange and red ones, with crackles that didn’t sound quite like lightning.
The guns. They’re still fighting.
Instinctively, I pulled out my cellphone, and tapped the screen.
It fluttered to life, but no matter how I tried, I couldn’t get through to anyone, not even with the emergency function designed to work around having no service. The complicated wonder of our modern world was little better than a glorified paperweight.
Stunned, I sat down with my back to the helicopter and rested my head against the aluminum skin of the craft. How I’d gone from a regular medical supply run to being marooned in this hellish parody of rural America, I didn’t know, but one thig was certain; I needed a plan. Whoever fired the missile could have already contacted my charter company and made up some excuse to keep them from coming to look for me. No one else knew I was here, and even though I now had six staples holding the worst of my injuries shut, I knew I needed proper medical attention. If I wanted to live, I’d have to rescue myself.
My bag. I need to get my go-bag, grab some gear and then . . . head somewhere else.
It took me a while to gather my green canvas paratrooper bag from its place behind the pilot’s seat and fill it with whatever supplies I could scrounge. My knee didn’t seem to be broken, but man did it hurt, and I dreaded the thought of walking on it for miles on end. I focused instead on inventorying my gear and trying to come up with a halfway intelligent plan of action.
I had a stainless-steel canteen with one of those detachable cups on the bottom, a little fishing kit, some duct tape, a lighter, a black LED flashlight with three spare batteries, a few tattered road maps with a compass, a spare pair of socks, medical supplies from the cargo, and a simple forest green plastic rain poncho. I also managed to unearth a functioning digital camcorder my ouma had gotten me for Christmas a few years back, though I wasn’t sure I wanted to do any filming in such a miserable state. Lastly, since it was a private supply run from a warehouse area near Pittsburgh to a direct hospital pad in Ohio, I’d been able to bring my K-Bar, a sturdy, and brutally simple knife designed for the Marine Corps that I used every time I went camping. It was pitiful in comparison to the rifle I wished I had with me, but that didn’t matter now. I had what I had, and I doubted my trusty Armalite would have alleviated my sore knee anyway.
Clicking on my flashlight, I huddled with the poncho around my shoulders inside the wreck of the chopper and peered at the dusty roadmaps. A small part of me hoped that a solution would jump out from the faded paper, but none came. These were all maps of western PA and eastern Ohio. None of them had a Barron County on them anywhere.
The man on the radio said to head north, right before they shot me down. That means they must be camped out to the north of here. South had that convoy and those burning houses, so that’s a no-go. Maybe I can backtrack eastward the way I came.
As if on cue, a soft pop echoed from over the eastern horizon, and I craned to look out the helicopter window, spotting more man-made flashes over the tree tops.
“Great.” I hissed between clenched teeth, aware of how the temperature dipped to a chilly 60 degrees, and how despite the conditions, my stomach had begun to growl. “Not going that way, are we? Westward it is.”
Walking away from my poor 902 proved to be harder than I’d anticipated. Despite the glass, the fizzling fires, and the darkness, it still held a familiar, human essence to it. Sitting inside it made me feel secure, safe, even calm about the situation. In any other circumstance, I would have just stayed with the downed aircraft to wait for help, but I knew the men who shot me down would likely find my crash site, and I didn’t want to be around when they did.
Unlike much of central and western Ohio, southeastern Ohio is hilly, brushy, and clogged with thick forests. Thorns snagged at my thin poncho and sliced at my pant legs. My knee throbbed, every step a form of self-inflicted torture. The rain never stopped, a steady drizzle from above just cold enough to be problematic as time went on, making me shiver. Mud slid under my tennis shoes, and every tree looked ten times bigger in the flickering beam of my cheap flashlight. Icy fear prickled at the back of my neck at some of the sounds that greeted me through the gloom. I’d been camping loads of times, both in Pennsylvania and elsewhere, but these noises were something otherworldly to me.
Strange howls, screeches, and calls permeated the rain-soaked sky, some almost roars, while others bordered on human in their intonation. The more I walked, the softer the distant gunfire became, and the more prevalent the odd sounds, until the shadows seemed to fill with them. I didn’t dare turn off my flashlight, or I’d been completely blind in the dark, but a little voice in the back of my head screamed that I was too visible, crunching through the gloomy forest with my long beam of light stabbing into the abyss. It felt as though a million eyes were on me, studying me, hunting me from the surrounding brush, and I bitterly recalled how much I’d loved the old Survivor Man TV series as a kid.
Not so fun being out in the woods at night. Especially alone.
A twig snapped somewhere behind me, and I whirled on the spot, one trembling hand resting on the hilt of my K-Bar.
Nothing. Nothing but trees, bushes, and rain dripping down in the darkness.
“This is stupid.” I whispered to myself to keep my nerves in check as I slowly spun on the spot. “I should have went eastward anyway. God knows how long I’m going to have to—”
Creak.
A groan of metal-on-metal echoed from somewhere to my right, and I spun to face it, yanking the knife on my belt free from its scabbard. It felt so small and useless in my hand, and I choked down a wave of nauseas fear.
Ka-whump. Creak. K-whump. Creak.
Underbrush cracked and crunched, a few smaller saplings thrashed, and from deep within the gloom, two yellow orbs flared to life. They poked through the mist in the trees, forming into slender fingers of golden light that swept back and forth in the dark.
The soldiers . . . they must be looking for me.
I swallowed hard and turned to slink away.
Ice jammed through my blood, and I froze on the spot, biting my tongue to stop the scream.
It stood not yards away, a huge form that towered a good twelve feet tall in the swirling shadows. Unpolished chrome blended with flash-rusted spots in the faded red paint, and grime-smeared glass shone with dull hues in the flashes of lightning. Where the wheels should have been, the rounded steel axels curved like some enormous hand had bent them, and the tires lay face-down on the muddy ground like big round feet, their hubcaps buried in the dirt. Dents, scrapes, and chips covered the battered thing, and its crooked little radio antenna pointed straight up from the old metal fender like a mast. I could barely make out the mud-coated VW on the rounded hood, and my mind reeled in shock.
Is . . . is that a car?
Both yellow headlights bathed me in a circle of bright, blinding light, and neither I nor the strange vehicle moved.
Seconds ticked by, the screech-thumping in the background only growing closer. I realized that I couldn’t hear any engine noises and had yet to see any soldiers or guns pointed my way. This car looked old, really old, like one of those classic Volkswagen Beetles that collectors fought over at auctions. Try as I might, I couldn’t see a driver inside the murky, mold-smeared windows.
Because there wasn’t one.
Lightning arched across the sky overhead, and the car standing in front of me blinked.
Its headlights slid shut, as if little metal shades had crawled over the bulbs for a moment and flicked open again. Something about that movement was so primal, so real, so lifelike, that every ounce of self-control I had melted in an instant.
Cursing under my breath, I lunged into the shrubs, and the world erupted around me.
Under my shoes, the ground shook, and the car surged after me in a cacophony of ka-thumps that made my already racing heart skip several beats. A weather-beaten brown tow truck from the 50’s charged through the thorns to my left, it’s headlights ablaze, and a dilapidated yellow school bus rose from its hiding place in the weeds to stand tall on four down-turned axel-legs. They all flicked their headlights on like giants waking from their slumber, and as I dodged past them, they each blared their horn into the night in alarm.
My breaths came short and tight, my knee burned, and I crashed through thorns and briars without thought to how badly I was getting cut up.
The cheap poncho tore, and I ripped it away as it caught on a tree branch.
A purple 70’s Mustang shook off its blanket of creeping vines and bounded from a stand of trees just ahead, forcing me to swerve to avoid being run over, my adrenaline at all-time highs.
This can’t be happening, this can’t be happening, this can’t be happening.
Slipping and sliding, I pushed through a stand of multiflora rose, and stumbled out into a flat, dark expanse.
I almost skidded to a stop.
What had once been a rather large field stood no taller than my shoestrings, the grass charred, and burnt. The storm above illuminated huge pieces of wreckage that lay scattered over the nearly 40-acre plot, and I could just make out the fire-blackened hulk of a fuselage resting a hundred yards away. The plane had been brought down a while ago it seemed, as there weren’t any flames left burning, and I threw myself toward it in frenzied desperation.
Burned grass and greasy brown topsoil slushed underfoot, and I could hear the squelching of the cars pursing me. Rain soaked me to the bone, and my lungs ached from sucking down the damp night air. A painful stich crept into my side, and I cursed myself for not putting in more time for cardio at the gym.
Something caught my left shoelace, and I hurtled to the ground, tasting mud and blood in between my teeth.
They’ve got me now.
I clawed at the mud, rolled, and watched a tire slam down mere inches from where my head had been. The Mustang loomed over me and jostled for position with the red Volkswagen and brown tow truck, the school bus still a few yards behind them. They couldn’t seem to decide who would get the pleasure of stomping me to death, and like a herd of stampeding wildebeest, they locked bumpers in an epic shoving match.
On all fours, I scampered out from under the sparring brutes, and dashed for the crumpled airplane, a white-painted DC-3 that looked like it had been cut in half by a gargantuan knife blade. I passed a snapped wing section, the oily remains of a turbo-prop engine, and a mutilated wheel from the landing gear. Climbing over a heap of mud, I squeezed into the back of the ruined flight cabin and dropped down into the dark cargo hold.
Wham.
No sooner had my sneakers hit the cold metal floor, and the entire plane rocked from the impact of something heavy ramming it just outside. I tumbled to my knees, screaming in pain as, once again, I managed to bash the sore one off a bracket in the wall.
My hand smeared in something gooey, and I scrabbled for my flashlight.
It clicked on, a wavering ball of white light in the pitch darkness, and I fought the urge to gag. “Oh man . . .”
Three people, or what was left of them, lay strewn over the narrow cargo area. Claret red blood coated the walls, caked on the floor, and clotted under my mud-spattered shoes. Bits of flesh and viscera were stuck to everything, and tatters of cloth hung from exposed sections of broken bone. An eerie set of bloody handprints adorned the walls, and the only reason I could tell it had been three people were the shoes; all of them bore anklebones sticking out above blood-soaked socks. It smelled sickly sweet, a strange, nauseas odor that crept into my nose and settled on the back of my tongue like an alien parasite.
Something glinted in the beam of my flashlight, and my pulse quickened as I pried the object loose from the severed arm that still clung to it.
“Hail Mary full of Grace.” I would have grinned if it weren’t for the fact that the plane continued to buck and roll under the assault from the cars outside.
The pistol looked old, but well-maintained, aside from the light coating of dark blood that stained its round wooden handle. It felt heavy, but good in my hand, and I turned it over to read the words, Waffenfabrik Mauser stenciled into the frame, with a large red 9 carved into the grip. For some reason, it vaguely reminded me of the blasters from Star Wars.
I fumbled with a little switch that looked like a safety on the back of the gun and stumbled toward a gap in the plane’s dented fuselage to aim out at the surrounding headlights.
Bang.
The old gun bucked reliably in my hand, its long barrel spitting a little jet of flame into the night. I had no idea if I hit anything, but the attacking cars recoiled, their horns blaring in confusion.
They turned, and scuttled for the tree line as fast as their mechanical legs could go, the entire ordeal over as fast as it had begun.
Did I do that?
Perplexed, I stared down at the pistol in my hand.
Whoosh.
A large, inky black shadow glided down from the clouds, and the yellow school bus moved too slow to react in time.
With a crash, the kicking nightmarish vehicle was thrown onto its side, spraying glass and chrome trim across the muddy field. Its electro-synth horn blared with wails of mechanical agony, as two huge talon-like feet clamped down on it, and the enormous head of the flying creature lowered to rip open its engine compartment.
The horn cut out, and the enormous flying entity jerked its head back to gulp down a mass of what looked like sticky black vines from the interior of the shattered bus.
At this range, I could see now that the flying creature bore two legs and had its wings half-tucked like a vulture that had descended to feed on roadkill. Its head turned slightly, and in the glow of another lightning bolt, my jaw went slack at the realization of what it was.
A tree trunk. It’s a rotted tree trunk.
I couldn’t tell where the reptilian beast began, and where the organic tree components ended, the upper part of the head shaped like a log, while the lower jaw resembled something out of a dinosaur movie. Its skin looked identical to the outside of a shagbark hickory but flexed with a supple featheriness that denoted something closer to skin. Sharp branch-like spines ranged down its back, and out to the end of its tail, which bore a massive round club shaped like a diseased tree-knot. Crouched on both hind legs, it braced the hooked ends of its folded wings against the ground like a bat, towering higher than a semi-truck. Under the folds of its armored head, a bulging pair of chameleon-like eyes constantly spun in their sockets, probing the dark for threats while it ate.
One black pupil locked onto the window I peered through, and my heart stopped.
The beast regarded me for a moment, with a curious, sideways sniff.
With a proud, contemptful head-toss, the shadow from the sky parted rows of razor-sharp teeth to let out a roar that shook the earth beneath my feet. It was the triumphant war cry of a creature that sat at the very top of the food chain, one that felt no threat from the fragile two-legged beings that walked the earth all around it. It hunted whenever it wanted, ate whatever it wanted, and flew wherever it wanted. It didn’t need to rip the plane apart to devour me.
Like my hunter-gatherer ancestors from thousands of years ago, I wasn’t even worth the energy it would take to pounce.
I’m hiding in the remains of the cockpit now, which is half-buried under the mud of the field, enough to shield the light from my screen so that thing doesn’t see it. My service only now came back, and it’s been over an hour since the winged beast started in on the dead bus. I don’t know when, or how I’m going to get out of here. I don’t know when anyone will even see this post, or if it will upload at all. My phone battery is almost dead, and at this point, I’m probably going to have to sleep among the corpses until daylight comes.
A dead man sleeping amongst friends.
If you live in the Noble County area in southeastern Ohio, be careful where you drive, fly, and boat. I don’t know if it’s possible to stumble into this strange place by ground, but if so, then these things are definitely headed your way.
If that happens . . . pray that they don’t find you.
submitted by RandomAppalachian468 to u/RandomAppalachian468 [link] [comments]

2023.06.01 15:23 Forward-Style621 Troubles with my 2014 VW Jetta

Hello, I just want to preface by saying I'm a broke college student and that is why I'm on here looking for any help or suggestions before taking my car into the shop as I don't have a lot of money to just drop lol. As the title says I have a 2014 Volkswagen Jetta (1.8t/4cyl if this matters) that's kind of been nothing but problems these past few months. She is the first car I've ever had and owned and was pre-owned by my parents. I love my car and know that I haven't been able to take care of her lately because I have very limited funds and pay for school all by myself. I'm going to be working a lot this summer so I plan to buy whatever I need to save my car. Before I get into the car issues know that I am in no way literate when it comes to cars so I'll explain things to the best of my ability. I'm also not sure if these issues are separate or have to do with the same thing.
The first problem I ever had with this car was with the "EPC" light that would turn on any time I gave the car too much gas too fast. I was told it was an issue with the wrong-size spark plugs. I replaced the spark plugs and the issue seemed to go away (until recently, but ill get into that later). Then last summer came and I was getting ready to move to college and my car would constantly show the engine temperature warning light while I was driving. I didn't know what to do at the time but eventually, I learned about coolant lol. But still, It would overheat even when coolant levels were fine. Fast forward a few months (engine temp light problem somehow goes away) my camshaft sensor breaks and my car keeps shutting off randomly when I'm stopped or going low speeds. I replace it and everything seems fine for a while.
Now we are caught up to the current situation. My car seems to be in really bad shape and I'm devastated and honestly, kind of scared to drive it anywhere (and probably shouldn't be driving anywhere). It sounds really bad when the engine is running. The check engine light is on and when I scan it on the OBD2 it says every cylinder is misfiring, the camshaft position sensor (even though I just replaced it), and it says something about the intake manifold Pos sensor (which I honestly don't know anything about). My car is overall very shakey and even shakier when idle. recently I'm having issues with the EPC light turning on again with acceleration as I mentioned before and sometimes the car says it's overheating even though I just turned on the ignition and haven't driven it anywhere and coolant levels are fine. My car still randomly shuts off on me and it's especially worse in heavy traffic for some reason. It just doesn't shut off on me as much as it did before I replaced the camshaft sensor.
I know this is a lot of information but I'm trying to be as detailed as I can so I get the best advice. I don't really have much help from anyone and I don't know what to do. I love my car and don't want to give up on her just yet. I also don't have the money to just get a new car right now but I know my Jetta can be quite pricey when it comes to maintenance and parts. So, please let me know what would be in my best interest to do at this point. Any advice is appreciated... Thank you in advance.
submitted by Forward-Style621 to MechanicAdvice [link] [comments]

2023.06.01 12:27 TerribleSell2997 Italy Electric Vehicle Market to Witness Astonishing Growth by 2029

Italy electric vehicle market is estimated to grow at a CAGR during the forecast period. Italy Electric Vehicle Market t report provides us with a complete outlook on thorough assessment of thorough data about vital feature of the global industry related to market size, revenue, development and market sales. This study report captures regulatory concerns and entry barriers that greatly affect the market growth. This report emphasizes on how industries get benefit from strategies offered here and achieve ample revenue other than also flashes light on constraints which can become great obstruction. It further helps to predict revenue increasing opportunities available in the marketplace. In addition, it then goes on to talk about volume trends, values and historical pricing structure. This Italy Electric Vehicle Market study report also helps to predict growth and opportunities in the market. Furthermore, it also guides on how to increase product demand, growth rate and gain huge profits through changing consumption technologies.
Get Free Sample link @ https://www.omrglobal.com/request-sample/italy-electric-vehicle-market
This Italy Electric Vehicle Market report briefly talks about the significance of every segment and growth aspects. It offers key statistics about major regions such as Europe, Asia Pacific, Middle East, Africa, North America and Latin America. This comprehensive Italy Electric Vehicle Market report works as a potent tool to allow key players get the right direction and guidance for companies to survive in the competitive market. Some of the major sectors are discussed in this Italy Electric Vehicle Market report such as manufacturing technology and industry applications. Competitors section, product type section and end-user section are the leading sections covered in this Italy Electric Vehicle Market study report. Entire market is covered in this Market report along with leading sections. It also covers basic overview of the entire market to help new entrants in making business easy going and forward.
All the significant parameters are also captured in this Italy Electric Vehicle Market research report. Key strategies are also captured here to help novel entrants to retain their position in the market. All the significant parameters are also discussed here along with market dynamics such as trends, challenges, opportunities and drivers. It also presents product specifications, company profile and 2022-2028 market shares for every company. Important information covered in this report enables key participants to know regarding the qualitative growth parameters of the global market. Quantifiable information covered in this Italy Electric Vehicle Market report helps to analyze country level and regional level data integrating the supply and demand strengths which are augmenting the market growth. It then goes on to talk about COVID-19 epidemic and how it several affected a number of major business sectors around the globe.
full report of Italy Electric Vehicle Market available @ https://www.omrglobal.com/industry-reports/italy-electric-vehicle-market
· Market Coverage
· Market number available for – 2023-2029
· Base year- 2022
· Forecast period- 2023-2029
· Segment Covered- By Source, By Product Type, By Applications
· Competitive Landscape- Archer Daniels Midland Co., Ingredion Inc., Kerry Group Plc, Cargill
· Inc., and others
Market Segmentation
Italy Electric Vehicle Market by Vehicle Type
o Commercial Vehicles
o Passenger Cars
o Others (Two-Wheelers)
Italy Electric Vehicle Market by Propulsion Technology
o Battery Electric Vehicles
o Plug-in Hybrid Electric Vehicle
Italy Electric Vehicle Market by Battery Type
o NiMH
o Li-Ion
o Others
Company Profiles
o BMW AG
o BYD Co. Ltd.
o Daimler AG (Smart)
o Hyundai Motor Co.
o Jaguar Land Rover Ltd.
o Nissan Motor Co.
o Renault Group
o Tesla, Inc.
o TAZZARI GL IMOLA SPA
The Report Covers
​
For More Customized Data, Request for Report Customization @ https://www.omrglobal.com/report-customization/italy-electric-vehicle-market
About Orion Market Research Orion Market Research (OMR) is a market research and consulting company known for its crisp and concise reports. The company is equipped with an experienced team of analysts and consultants. OMR offers quality syndicated research reports, customized research reports, consulting and other research-based services. The company also offer Digital Marketing services through its subsidiary OMR Digital and Software development and Consulting Services through another subsidiary Encanto Technologies.
Media Contact:
Company Name: Orion Market Research
Contact Person: Mr. Anurag Tiwari
Email: [email protected]
Contact no: +91 780-304-0404
submitted by TerribleSell2997 to Nim2908 [link] [comments]

2023.06.01 12:27 TerribleSell2997 Italy Electric Vehicle Market to see Rapid Growth by 2029

Italy electric vehicle market is estimated to grow at a CAGR during the forecast period. Italy Electric Vehicle Market t report provides us with a complete outlook on thorough assessment of thorough data about vital feature of the global industry related to market size, revenue, development and market sales. This study report captures regulatory concerns and entry barriers that greatly affect the market growth. This report emphasizes on how industries get benefit from strategies offered here and achieve ample revenue other than also flashes light on constraints which can become great obstruction. It further helps to predict revenue increasing opportunities available in the marketplace. In addition, it then goes on to talk about volume trends, values and historical pricing structure. This Italy Electric Vehicle Market study report also helps to predict growth and opportunities in the market. Furthermore, it also guides on how to increase product demand, growth rate and gain huge profits through changing consumption technologies.
Get Free Sample link @ https://www.omrglobal.com/request-sample/italy-electric-vehicle-market
This Italy Electric Vehicle Market report briefly talks about the significance of every segment and growth aspects. It offers key statistics about major regions such as Europe, Asia Pacific, Middle East, Africa, North America and Latin America. This comprehensive Italy Electric Vehicle Market report works as a potent tool to allow key players get the right direction and guidance for companies to survive in the competitive market. Some of the major sectors are discussed in this Italy Electric Vehicle Market report such as manufacturing technology and industry applications. Competitors section, product type section and end-user section are the leading sections covered in this Italy Electric Vehicle Market study report. Entire market is covered in this Market report along with leading sections. It also covers basic overview of the entire market to help new entrants in making business easy going and forward.
All the significant parameters are also captured in this Italy Electric Vehicle Market research report. Key strategies are also captured here to help novel entrants to retain their position in the market. All the significant parameters are also discussed here along with market dynamics such as trends, challenges, opportunities and drivers. It also presents product specifications, company profile and 2022-2028 market shares for every company. Important information covered in this report enables key participants to know regarding the qualitative growth parameters of the global market. Quantifiable information covered in this Italy Electric Vehicle Market report helps to analyze country level and regional level data integrating the supply and demand strengths which are augmenting the market growth. It then goes on to talk about COVID-19 epidemic and how it several affected a number of major business sectors around the globe.
full report of Italy Electric Vehicle Market available @ https://www.omrglobal.com/industry-reports/italy-electric-vehicle-market
· Market Coverage
· Market number available for – 2023-2029
· Base year- 2022
· Forecast period- 2023-2029
· Segment Covered- By Source, By Product Type, By Applications
· Competitive Landscape- Archer Daniels Midland Co., Ingredion Inc., Kerry Group Plc, Cargill
· Inc., and others
Market Segmentation
Italy Electric Vehicle Market by Vehicle Type
o Commercial Vehicles
o Passenger Cars
o Others (Two-Wheelers)
Italy Electric Vehicle Market by Propulsion Technology
o Battery Electric Vehicles
o Plug-in Hybrid Electric Vehicle
Italy Electric Vehicle Market by Battery Type
o NiMH
o Li-Ion
o Others
Company Profiles
o BMW AG
o BYD Co. Ltd.
o Daimler AG (Smart)
o Hyundai Motor Co.
o Jaguar Land Rover Ltd.
o Nissan Motor Co.
o Renault Group
o Tesla, Inc.
o TAZZARI GL IMOLA SPA
The Report Covers
​
For More Customized Data, Request for Report Customization @ https://www.omrglobal.com/report-customization/italy-electric-vehicle-market
About Orion Market Research Orion Market Research (OMR) is a market research and consulting company known for its crisp and concise reports. The company is equipped with an experienced team of analysts and consultants. OMR offers quality syndicated research reports, customized research reports, consulting and other research-based services. The company also offer Digital Marketing services through its subsidiary OMR Digital and Software development and Consulting Services through another subsidiary Encanto Technologies.
Media Contact:
Company Name: Orion Market Research
Contact Person: Mr. Anurag Tiwari
Email: [email protected]
Contact no: +91 780-304-0404
submitted by TerribleSell2997 to Nim2908 [link] [comments]

2023.06.01 03:29 rodog22 Requesting feedback on first chapter

Is anyone interested in critiquing the first chapter of my planned cultivation fantasy series. Sort of an alpha reader? it's less than 1800 words. I want to get several people's opinions of my prose before I write more chapters.
“I can’t wait to eat it.” Gong Li salivated over his next meal. Which was unfortunate, on account of the fact that it wasn’t dead yet.
Over 30 paces away from where he hid was a gnarlwood elk, its hind quarters marked by significant scarring that almost resembled burn marks. Presumably from a recent run in with a predator.
The gnarlwood elk was a truly majestic spirit beast that naturally cultivated the aspect of wood. And as was typically the case for spirit beasts, the path of its cultivation expressed itself in its unique physiology. The creature’s skin was the color of smooth, deep brown bark. It had fur like a normal elk, but it was green and looked more like moss that covered little of the lower half of the beast’s body. The elk sported massive antlers that more closely resembled gnarled tree branches, hence its namesake, with large flower buds growing out from it. Those flower buds were more than mere decoration, however. When opened, they would produce a pollen like substance. When exposed to it, a potential predator would experience severe irritation in its eyes and respiratory system. Also, the beast was about the size of a draft horse.
Li licked his lips in anticipation. “Mhm wood chi infused venison. My meat and veggies all in one bite.”
The Gnarlwood Elk stood cautiously in a clearing in the forest. It drank from a nearby brook, occasionally scanning the area for any signs of predators.
But Gong Li’s next meal wouldn’t find him. He had been on hunts before, but this was the first time he was permitted to join in on the hunt of a spirit beast. Such a thing would normally be too dangerous for someone of his cultivation and he was not expected to take part in the hunt itself. But the important thing was that the spirit beast didn’t notice him. This was an opportunity for Li to demonstrate his ability to suppress his spiritual power. What little he had as a mortal realm cultivator, anyway. Failing to do so might cost him and others their lives the elders of his clan told him. So he was sent on this hunt alongside his cousin Gong Fang and his team of beast hunters to prove his worth.
“Ready”, whispered the man himself in the bushes on Gong Li’s left. Gong Fang sported wild, spiky black hair that shimmered in the noonday sun with oil. His lean corded muscles clearly visible, as he wasn’t wearing a shirt. They bulged as if ready to rip out of his skin as he prepared himself for the hunt.
“Ready,” To Gong Fang’s own left was a woman. Gong Yue was built tall but slender. She shared the tanned complexion that most of the Gong Clan sported, which contrasted nicely with her short, silver hair. After a brief flash of light surrounded her uplifted hands, a wooden bow with a dark blue stone above the grip appeared in her grasp.
“Fire,” Gong Fang catapulted himself out of his hiding spot and into the clearing keeping up a storm of dirt and grass as he went. Gong Yue summoned an updraft, allowing her to take flight and break off small tree branches. As she knocked her arrow, the dark blue stone socketed into her bow’s limbs glowed with sparks of lightning inside. The sparks made their way to the bow proper, and Gong Li could smell the faint hint of ozone in the air.
The beast immediately knew something was wrong, but it was too late. Just as the gnarlwood elk popped its head back up, the arrow struck its neck. The beast reeled.
Gong Fang continued his charge, summoning a massive curved cleaver from his storage ring.
Gong Li watched as the beast struggled to get back on its feet, but the electrical current from the arrow had overloaded its nervous system. It violently flung mud into the air as Gong Yue fired another arrow into its flank.
As he closed in Gong Fang launched himself over ten paces into the air. He came down on the creature’s neck hard; The weight of the sword, his body and his technique. Together they easily cleaved through the base of the creature's neck. Gore sputtered out from the elk’s body and onto Fang but he jumped away from his fallen prey before the flower buds on the antlers blossomed. The beauty of the vibrant yellow petals were marred by the red gore that now covered them.
Fang was grinning. Grinning with the mischievous glee like a kid in an abandoned candy shop.
“Yeah! That’s what I’m talking about.” Fang triumphed over his kill. His enthusiasm was contagious. Li couldn’t help but cheer as well, despite the gory scene.
As Li and Yue caught up to Fang, Yue generated a current of air around them. The current, shaped like a dome, would keep the pollen from the flowers from getting to them.
Fang looked down at Li was a few finger widths shorter. “so little cousin tell me what you think of our technique?”
“Your methods are solid. Yue using lightning to paralyze the target, which gives you time to close the distance and quickly deliver a killing blow. I initially wondered why you use a cleaver instead of a spear as a melee hunting weapon, but now I see the logic of it. Cooks typically use cleavers to cut through bone and thick meat. However, a cleaver style sword can also be an effective way of killing an enemy quickly if you have the strength and precision to wield it. If you attempted to pierce the large Grade 2 beast’s neck with a spear and raw strength alone, it wouldn’t have guaranteed a kill. Given the strong hide and healing factor of the target. But by using force chi, you can apply greater kinetic energy and wield a heavier weapon.”
Fang grinned and looked towards Yue. “Told you he was a smart one.”
“Do you use this strategy against all your targets?” Li asked.
“No. Different prey calls for different methods. Although this is the strategy we use most often. We specialize in hunting large herbivores. That’s what sells the best prices on the market, anyway. They’re also the main course for the most profitable dishes of the clan owned restaurant. Also you’d be amazed what a pair of testicles from just about any large spirit beast would go for.
Li raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Spirit beast testicles?”
Yue interjected. “Many people think the testicles of large spirit beasts make for a potent aphrodisiac and may even increase fertility. There’s not much evidence to support the claim, but who am I to deny a fool so eager to part with his money?”
Fang barked a laugh. “Especially if it’s lining my pockets, eh.”
“We should get moving now,” Yue started scanning the area. “The scars on the elk may look old, but wood aspected beasts have an especially efficient healing factor. The creature that gave it those wounds could be nearby.
“Alright then, just give me five minutes to clean my sword and wash the blood off in the brook.
As Fang made his way to the brook Li turned towards Yue. “I was wondering, cousin Yue. Why use a bow with a lightning aspected beast core instead of cultivating it yourself? It would seem like the perfect fit to supplement your wind path.”
Yue shook her head, “Well, for one, the lightning aspect is hard on the body. It’s one of the most difficult aspects to cultivate.”
“No offense, but you don’t cross me as the type who would fear a little hard work.”
“No I’m not. But…” Yue trailed off.
“Funds. Right?
Yue gave Fang a regrettable expression. “Lightning is also one of the rarer aspects out there. To learn to adapt to cycling it through my meridians, any large quantity would require me to go through several Grade 2 beast cores. The clan simply doesn’t have those kinds of resources anymore. Our current situation is the reason why the elders requested we take you on this hunt with us. While your own path was designed for smithing the metal and fire aspect have obvious combat applications. They want as many of us prepared to defend the clan as possible. Should our enemies decide to take advantage of our weakness and hasten the clan’s fall.
As Li contemplated the clan’s current predicament, he found himself suddenly slapped with a torrent of water. After recovering from the initial shock, Li looked in Fang’s general direction. And there he was beaming with satisfaction in the brook over 10 paces away, sword in hand.
“You bastard.” Yue screamed.
Fang simply laughed and pulled back his weapon. He dipped the bulk of the cleaver in the water and made a sweeping motion back towards Li and Yue creating another wave of water. The water was accelerated to deceptively high velocities due to his application of force chi to enhance the swing. Yue was ready for him this time however. She generated a wall of wind chi that redirected the wave of water back at Fang. The combined force of the water and Yue’s wind technique knocked Fang off his feet submerging him in the brook’s shallow waters.
Yue laughed.
Li flicked off a piece of the gnarlwood elk’s bark-like carapace off his shoulder with a sigh of irration. “You’re a child cousin Fa-.”
Li found himself smacked hard by a current of air. He went spinning and before he knew his face smacked hard into the dirt, dazed. It took a moment to realize what had happened. Yue had struck him with her own technique. But why? He was only a mortal realm cultivator. She wouldn’t have hit him with an attack that hard, only for her own amusement.
His head was spinning, but Li did his best to lift it up and look around. It was then that he came to realize what had happened.
The impact knocked him a clean fifteen paces away, on the other side of the stream for his own safety. For the predator had arrived to claim its wounded prey.
submitted by rodog22 to xianxia_novels [link] [comments]

2023.06.01 01:28 rodog22 Requesting alpha readers

Is anyone interested in critiquing the first chapter of my planned cultivation fantasy series. Sort of an alpha reader? it's less than 1800 words. I want to get several people's opinions of my prose before I write more chapters.
“I can’t wait to eat it.” Gong Li salivated over his next meal. Which was unfortunate, on account of the fact that it wasn’t dead yet.
Over 30 paces away from where he hid was a gnarlwood elk, its hind quarters marked by significant scarring that almost resembled burn marks. Presumably from a recent run in with a predator.
The gnarlwood elk was a truly majestic spirit beast that naturally cultivated the aspect of wood. And as was typically the case for spirit beasts, the path of its cultivation expressed itself in its unique physiology. The creature’s skin was the color of smooth, deep brown bark. It had fur like a normal elk, but it was green and looked more like moss that covered little of the lower half of the beast’s body. The elk sported massive antlers that more closely resembled gnarled tree branches, hence its namesake, with large flower buds growing out from it. Those flower buds were more than mere decoration, however. When opened, they would produce a pollen like substance. When exposed to it, a potential predator would experience severe irritation in its eyes and respiratory system. Also, the beast was about the size of a draft horse.
Li licked his lips in anticipation. “Mhm wood chi infused venison. My meat and veggies all in one bite.”
The Gnarlwood Elk stood cautiously in a clearing in the forest. It drank from a nearby brook, occasionally scanning the area for any signs of predators.
But Gong Li’s next meal wouldn’t find him. He had been on hunts before, but this was the first time he was permitted to join in on the hunt of a spirit beast. Such a thing would normally be too dangerous for someone of his cultivation and he was not expected to take part in the hunt itself. But the important thing was that the spirit beast didn’t notice him. This was an opportunity for Li to demonstrate his ability to suppress his spiritual power. What little he had as a mortal realm cultivator, anyway. Failing to do so might cost him and others their lives the elders of his clan told him. So he was sent on this hunt alongside his cousin Gong Fang and his team of beast hunters to prove his worth.
“Ready”, whispered the man himself in the bushes on Gong Li’s left. Gong Fang sported wild, spiky black hair that shimmered in the noonday sun with oil. His lean corded muscles clearly visible, as he wasn’t wearing a shirt. They bulged as if ready to rip out of his skin as he prepared himself for the hunt.
“Ready,” To Gong Fang’s own left was a woman. Gong Yue was built tall but slender. She shared the tanned complexion that most of the Gong Clan sported, which contrasted nicely with her short, silver hair. After a brief flash of light surrounded her uplifted hands, a wooden bow with a dark blue stone above the grip appeared in her grasp.
“Fire,” Gong Fang catapulted himself out of his hiding spot and into the clearing keeping up a storm of dirt and grass as he went. Gong Yue summoned an updraft, allowing her to take flight and break off small tree branches. As she knocked her arrow, the dark blue stone socketed into her bow’s limbs glowed with sparks of lightning inside. The sparks made their way to the bow proper, and Gong Li could smell the faint hint of ozone in the air.
The beast immediately knew something was wrong, but it was too late. Just as the gnarlwood elk popped its head back up, the arrow struck its neck. The beast reeled.
Gong Fang continued his charge, summoning a massive curved cleaver from his storage ring.
Gong Li watched as the beast struggled to get back on its feet, but the electrical current from the arrow had overloaded its nervous system. It violently flung mud into the air as Gong Yue fired another arrow into its flank.
As he closed in Gong Fang launched himself over ten paces into the air. He came down on the creature’s neck hard; The weight of the sword, his body and his technique. Together they easily cleaved through the base of the creature's neck. Gore sputtered out from the elk’s body and onto Fang but he jumped away from his fallen prey before the flower buds on the antlers blossomed. The beauty of the vibrant yellow petals were marred by the red gore that now covered them.
Fang was grinning. Grinning with the mischievous glee like a kid in an abandoned candy shop.
“Yeah! That’s what I’m talking about.” Fang triumphed over his kill. His enthusiasm was contagious. Li couldn’t help but cheer as well, despite the gory scene.
As Li and Yue caught up to Fang, Yue generated a current of air around them. The current, shaped like a dome, would keep the pollen from the flowers from getting to them.
Fang looked down at Li was a few finger widths shorter. “so little cousin tell me what you think of our technique?”
“Your methods are solid. Yue using lightning to paralyze the target, which gives you time to close the distance and quickly deliver a killing blow. I initially wondered why you use a cleaver instead of a spear as a melee hunting weapon, but now I see the logic of it. Cooks typically use cleavers to cut through bone and thick meat. However, a cleaver style sword can also be an effective way of killing an enemy quickly if you have the strength and precision to wield it. If you attempted to pierce the large Grade 2 beast’s neck with a spear and raw strength alone, it wouldn’t have guaranteed a kill. Given the strong hide and healing factor of the target. But by using force chi, you can apply greater kinetic energy and wield a heavier weapon.”
Fang grinned and looked towards Yue. “Told you he was a smart one.”
“Do you use this strategy against all your targets?” Li asked.
“No. Different prey calls for different methods. Although this is the strategy we use most often. We specialize in hunting large herbivores. That’s what sells the best prices on the market, anyway. They’re also the main course for the most profitable dishes of the clan owned restaurant. Also you’d be amazed what a pair of testicles from just about any large spirit beast would go for.
Li raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Spirit beast testicles?”
Yue interjected. “Many people think the testicles of large spirit beasts make for a potent aphrodisiac and may even increase fertility. There’s not much evidence to support the claim, but who am I to deny a fool so eager to part with his money?”
Fang barked a laugh. “Especially if it’s lining my pockets, eh.”
“We should get moving now,” Yue started scanning the area. “The scars on the elk may look old, but wood aspected beasts have an especially efficient healing factor. The creature that gave it those wounds could be nearby.
“Alright then, just give me five minutes to clean my sword and wash the blood off in the brook.
As Fang made his way to the brook Li turned towards Yue. “I was wondering, cousin Yue. Why use a bow with a lightning aspected beast core instead of cultivating it yourself? It would seem like the perfect fit to supplement your wind path.”
Yue shook her head, “Well, for one, the lightning aspect is hard on the body. It’s one of the most difficult aspects to cultivate.”
“No offense, but you don’t cross me as the type who would fear a little hard work.”
“No I’m not. But…” Yue trailed off.
“Funds. Right?
Yue gave Fang a regrettable expression. “Lightning is also one of the rarer aspects out there. To learn to adapt to cycling it through my meridians, any large quantity would require me to go through several Grade 2 beast cores. The clan simply doesn’t have those kinds of resources anymore. Our current situation is the reason why the elders requested we take you on this hunt with us. While your own path was designed for smithing the metal and fire aspect have obvious combat applications. They want as many of us prepared to defend the clan as possible. Should our enemies decide to take advantage of our weakness and hasten the clan’s fall.
As Li contemplated the clan’s current predicament, he found himself suddenly slapped with a torrent of water. After recovering from the initial shock, Li looked in Fang’s general direction. And there he was beaming with satisfaction in the brook over 10 paces away, sword in hand.
“You bastard.” Yue screamed.
Fang simply laughed and pulled back his weapon. He dipped the bulk of the cleaver in the water and made a sweeping motion back towards Li and Yue creating another wave of water. The water was accelerated to deceptively high velocities due to his application of force chi to enhance the swing. Yue was ready for him this time however. She generated a wall of wind chi that redirected the wave of water back at Fang. The combined force of the water and Yue’s wind technique knocked Fang off his feet submerging him in the brook’s shallow waters.
Yue laughed.
Li flicked off a piece of the gnarlwood elk’s bark-like carapace off his shoulder with a sigh of irration. “You’re a child cousin Fa-.”
Li found himself smacked hard by a current of air. He went spinning and before he knew his face smacked hard into the dirt, dazed. It took a moment to realize what had happened. Yue had struck him with her own technique. But why? He was only a mortal realm cultivator. She wouldn’t have hit him with an attack that hard, only for her own amusement.
His head was spinning, but Li did his best to lift it up and look around. It was then that he came to realize what had happened.
The impact knocked him a clean fifteen paces away, on the other side of the stream for his own safety. For the predator had arrived to claim its wounded prey.
submitted by rodog22 to CultivationFantasy [link] [comments]

2023.05.31 20:48 OfficialTP Bluetooth Speaker That shakes the room? What's the best all in one BASS speaker that can shake the room? Explanation blow...

Is there a portable speaker that will replace a subwoofer? Nah :(
Hello, I hope your day isn’t going too bad so far?
What’s the best wireless Bluetooth ( CAN be wired like powered by mains, just want Bluetooth ) That has crazy bass that will shake the surface it’s on.
Now let me say something, I have a portable speaker called Dockin d fine
And it’s small. However... they have done something that no other speaker ( and I’ve been through all big brand speakers ( literally. ) And that is even on low volume I can
physically
Feel the bass
Through my bed
So when I put it next to me on the bed if I’m watching a movie at night or something Or even the sofa etc anywhere im sitting or laying
I feel the bass crazily.
Now, before you say any speaker would do this, I’ve tested literally 99.9% of portable speakers now. And the dockin just I don’t know how it does it but the bass is just insane for the size it shakes the bed quite literally
I’ve got a JBL PartyBox 110 That has crazy deep ( SOUNDING ) bass
But even if LOL I PUT THAT on the bed next to me It don’t actually seem to physically vibrate the bed like the dockin ........... and the dockin is as tiny as a normal portable speaker
Don’t believe me? Buy one off amaOn Just to try it out and return it if you will. But I’m serious when I say the dockin is just the best portable speaker ever for
( table shaking bass )
Now like I say I have to PartyBox 110 and that has really loud deep low low low bass but it don’t shake physically ?
So my question is
Even if it’s mains plug powered I just want Bluetooth Don’t care for battery powered
What’s the BEST speaker that will physically shake surfaces it’s on so I can feel the bass?
I know. a subwoofer. But no.
See, even if it’s a wired speaker, I’m going to buy a portable plug outlet socket so I can powered even non battery speakers. so I want the speaker to still be all in one and liftable to carry ( PartyBox 110 size is fine )
But I don’t want to be loool carrying a subwoofer and a speaker etc etc I just want a powerful bass speaker
I have seen something like a Sonos play 5 for exmaple????
Any suggestions please
Would it be possible to look into this, please? thank you sincerely for responding to me, Your kindness is appreciated. I hope this is not a hassle for you and Have a Wonderful day ahead! :)
submitted by OfficialTP to Bluetooth_Speakers [link] [comments]

2023.05.31 20:16 Ok_World3345 Trouble accessing my spark plug for my TORO lawnmower

Trouble accessing my spark plug for my TORO lawnmower
I’m extremely new to mechanical work in general but my lawnmower broke down this summer and I wanted to try and fix it. I’m pretty sure my issue is with my spark plug but I can’t remove it in it’s location. I have a drive socket wrench and I think that’s the right tool for this job but I have no pieces that are long enough to surround the plug, any help is appreciated, I’m not sure what to do to get the spark plug. Should I try to find a longer piece? Should I look for another tool? I’ve attached photos of its location
submitted by Ok_World3345 to MechanicAdvice [link] [comments]

2023.05.31 16:19 nabz_98 Stuck spark plug.

Hey all, I was changing the spark plugs on my 2012 - 1.4L, 101k miles. Pretty sure this is the first time they've been changed. I successfully got three of the four swapped out, but the last one is stuck in pretty good.
I've sprayed on pb blaster and let it sit overnight, but it still doesn't budge when going at it with a socket wrench. Any ideas on how to get it unstuck, I was going to use a breaker bar but I'm worried about shearing it off. Not sure whether to just take it in to a mechanic, but it sucks to do that for one plug. Any help is appreciated.
submitted by nabz_98 to cruze [link] [comments]

2023.05.31 15:31 JohannesMeanAd2 The Centennial Series, S2E2: 1923 Indianapolis 500 - Indy goes international!

The Centennial Series, S2E2: 1923 Indianapolis 500 - Indy goes international!
Hello everyone! I hope you all had fun watching the Monaco Grand Prix this weekend, filled with many different strategic twists and turns and showcasing some of the finest displays of driver ability we've seen this season!
As we all know, the Monaco Grand Prix is one of the most historic motor races on the planet, with a rich heritage going all the way back to 1929. However, there is one other open wheel race that has historically been run on the same day, but halfway across the world in America: The Indianapolis 500. With speeds in excess of 230 miles per hour and attendance soaring past 300,000 on race day, the Indy 500 boasts arguably the most impressive CV of any active motor race in the world with its over 110-year-long history. Makes sense, then, that this would be our next destination for The Centennial Series retrospective.
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The Start of the 1923 Indianapolis 500. Image credits to michaeljesse.net
For those of you on this sub who don't know, I make a series of commemorative posts for Grand Prix-adjacent races that occurred exactly 100 years ago as their anniversaries pass by us. Here's my most recent one in case you're interested in reading further. This will be the second installment in this year's retrospective, so let's get into it!
Just like today, in 1923 the Indianapolis 500 held a special place in the motor racing world as arguably one of the fastest and most exciting races out there. If we had a holy trinity of races in the 1920s, they would be the Italian Targa Florio, the French Grand Prix, and this race. Indy represented the peak of American motor racing since the end of World War I, when rival events such as the ACA Grand Prize and the William K. Vanderbilt Cup fell into abeyance and irrelevance.
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Aerial view of Indianapolis Motor Speedway, 1923.
You might be wondering, "this is a race that's still held today in the IndyCar series. Why would you do a retrospective on it if it's not a Grand Prix?" That's a great question and the answer lies in the past. Though it may seem strange, unlike in the 1950s, during the 1920s the Indy 500 was equally as relevant to the Grand Prix racing world as it was to that of racing in the United States. Quite often, many of the best manufacturers of Europe sought after victory in the Indianapolis 500 as a means of proving their race cars’ (and road cars) worthiness on a global scale. Some successful examples include Delage in the 1914 running, and Peugeot, who successfully won three times in 1913, 1916 and 1919.
As such, it made sense that the then-organizers of the Indy 500 (and most auto racing in America), the AAA Contest Board, wanted to keep in touch with the latest developments in international racing to maintain that worldwide interest in the Sweepstakes. In the previous year's Indianapolis 500 (Which you can read my post about here), the technical regulations remained the same as they had been since the end of World War I, that of 3.0 liter engine regulations, on the grounds that the American auto industry still hadn't fully recovered a regular peacetime manufacturing capacity after The Great War.
However, this would all change for 1923. In 1922, the Automobile Club de France, or the ACF, adopted new, 2.0 liter engine regulations with slightly smaller weight requirements as the first true "new" post-war regulation. In the pursuit of maintaining international interest in the Indy 500, the AAA decided to follow suit for the 1923 season. In recognition of unifying their formula, the folks in Europe known as the AIACR (Association Internationale des Automobile Clubs Reconnus, the FIA of its day) designated the Indianapolis 500 as a Grande Epreuve (French for “big test”), which was back then the term for an "official" international Grand Prix race.
And so, with the race now genuinely having international importance once more, it's time to see who's who and who the favorites were for the 1923 Indy 500:
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The Team of Bugattis lining up for a photo at the 1923 Indy 500. Image credits to Simanaitis Says.
The first major European manufacturer to jump at the Indy opportunity would be Bugatti. Led by the great Ettore Bugatti himself, the Alsatian manufacturer had gained a reputation for punching well above their weight in the Grand Prix scene, with multiple voiturette victories to their name in 1920 and 1921, and making the step up to the Grand Prix races in 1922. Despite their gentlemanly lineup, their results were very promising, taking runner-up in France and third place at Monza. For 1923, they planned bigger and better things, but for the sake of getting their name out, Bugatti set out with their 1922-spec Type 30, modified to only have one seat (because back then Grand Prix racers still needed two seats).
Their drivers would be led by Pierre de Vizcaya and the legendary Polish designer Count Louis Zborowski. They were joined by a series of other wealthy aristocrats interested in a flick of speed, including the Parisian Prince de Cystria, and the Argentinians Martin de Alzaga and Raul Riganti. With just 90 horsepower on tap, Bugatti's best chances came from capitalizing on attrition. But still it's quite incredible that they're out here having only made it to the big leagues a year prior.
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The Supercharged Mercedes M7294. Stripped down to only one seat for Indianapolis. Image credits to Supercars.net
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Christian F. Lautenschlager. Image from Fine Art America.
And now for a manufacturer I'm sure everyone is familiar with: Mercedes! By this point, Mercedes were still virtually the "exiled genius” of the European racing world. Their status as a German car manufacturer left them banned from taking part in the French Grand Prix after The Great War, but that did not stop the engineers at Stuttgart from innovating and being ahead of the curve. At the 1922 Targa Florio, they introduced the world's first supercharged (and by extension, forced induction) racecars, capitalizing on a gray area for the Grand Prix regulations of the time. Seeing the potential of the supercharging device, Mercedes opted to take it one step further for 1923. In a design that complies with the 2.0 liter Grand Prix regulations, they introduced the M7294, designed by Paul Daimler himself. This 120-horsepower beast used centrifugal supercharging to make up for the below-average RPM compared to the naturally aspirated American racers they'd be up against, making this the first effort for a supercharged race car at Indy.
As they were once again playing with hot stuff, Mercedes entrusted only their absolute best and most knowledgeable drivers with the M7294. The headlining driver would be two-time Grand Prix champion Christian Lautenschlager, alongside their top testers Max Sailer and Christian Werner.
​
Duesenberg Special at Indianapolis, 1924. No good photos of their 1923 special exist. Image credits to Indiana Memory Collections.
The rather abrupt nature of the switch from 3.0 liter engines to 2.0 liter engines for the Indy 500 sent a paradigm-changing shockwave to the balance of power among American racing teams. Many manufacturers found themselves largely underprepared or ill-equipped to handle making all new designs in such a short time for the 1923 Indy 500. One such example would be the Duesenberg brothers. High off of an incredible upset victory at the 1921 French Grand Prix, and a record-breaking Indy 500 win (both with Jimmy Murphy at the helm), it’s safe to say Duesenberg were a staple of American open wheel racing, and in 1923 their absence was very much felt. In the hurried rush to put together a special car in time for Indianapolis, they depleted most of their resources, and sent out three cars, mostly for relief drivers. Only one car would start the race, for their chief relief driver Wade Morton, making his Indy 500 debut. Quite the contrast to see only one car from such a big team.
The Detroit-based Packard team were able to create a reasonably strong package for the 1923 season, managing around 115 horsepower from their new 2.0 liter special. Although not in as desperate of a situation as Duesenberg were, Packard still put together a strong team, fielding the legendary Ralph DePalma as their headlining driver, alongside Joe Boyer and 1916 winner Dario Resta.
Others wouldn’t be so fortunate as Duesenberg and Packard to survive the sudden shift. The Frontenac Motor Corporation, a joint venture between Louis Chevrolet (yes, that Chevrolet), Joe Boyer and car salesman William Small, was the dominant force in Champ Car racing during and after The Great War, with Chevrolet himself leading the race team to glory. After a suboptimal 1922 race in which none of Chevrolet’s cars finished in the top 5, the devastating news that they’d have to rebuild everything they had was the nail in the coffin that would make the Frontenac project go bankrupt, ridding American open wheel racing of one of its strongest teams. Can you imagine that happening to Chevrolet and Team Penske today? Because that’s what this felt like at the time.
Miller Type 122 Special, as entered by HCS. Image credits to ConceptCarz.
However, where some had failed or struggled, others would absolutely thrive. In the immediate post-war years, The Wisconsonite Harry Miller was the owner of a very successful carburetor-selling business, generating over $1 million in yearly revenue. Miller would put this money to good use, developing a durable and fast racing engine for the Indy 500 (inspired by the old Peugeot engines), which in 1922 would be used by the overall race winner, Jimmy Murphy on his special Duesenberg chassis. The record-breaking pace of Murphy's win ignited huge interest in Miller's fast-growing racing team. Luckily for Miller, his team would stay ahead of the curve for the 1923 regulation change, developing a strong 2.0 liter engine for an elegant and functional design: the Type 122 (named such for the engine size in cubic inches).
The Miller 122 was the very first dedicated single-seater race car in the United States. Talk about an innovative race car for the time, back in those days the top Grand Prix cars mandated two seats for driver and mechanic! However, as the need for a mechanic was now optional for the Indy 500, the 122 only had the one seat. The car also boasted a very impressive 120 horsepower. A similar power output to Miller's previous engines, but far more dense given the smaller engine size.
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Cliff Durant.
With the promise of stability at over 110 miles per hour, and especially given the short notice of the regulation change hurting other American manufacturers, Harry Miller's design would have an explosion of interest from many drivers of the American Open Wheel racing establishment. There were no less than eleven of these bad boys lining up for the 1923 Indy 500, making this car a clear favorite for race day. There were two top teams fielding Millers this year, including Cliff Durant’s stable of eight cars with champion drivers such as Earl Cooper and Jimmy Murphy headlining his team’s attack. They would be rivaled by the Harry C. Stutz team (H.C.S. for short), who had just two cars, but packed a real punch by fielding two past Indy 500 champions: Howard “Howdy” Wilcox, and Thomas “Tommy” Milton.
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Headline for Indiana law prohibiting sporting events occurring on memorial day. Taken from The Daily Republican, January 25th, 1923.
So now that we have the exposition out of the way, it's time for the race itself. Well, almost. You see, at the start of 1923, the Indiana State Legislature passed a law that prohibited all sporting events from occurring on Memorial Day, which included the Indianapolis 500 itself. This was done on the grounds that not enough respect had been given to the fallen American soldiers, and that the day was instead used for “games, races, and revelry.” Although this reasoning was sound, many people found this law un-American for limiting free expression. This included the organizers of the Indy 500, who relied on a holiday to guarantee maximal race attendance. There were talks of moving the race to the Saturday before Memorial day (May 26th in this instance), and even potentially making Saturday a special holiday! Honestly, it kind of reeks of making a town around the racetrack called “Speedway” (which actually happened). As no better solution could be found due to the organizers’ insistence on running on a holiday, the race would be held on a Wednesday, May 30th.
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Joe Boyer in the Packard Special, 1923.
Now that we know when the race happens, it's time to actually get into the swing of things. Most teams used the entire month of May leading up to the race to get in private practice sessions, to have the best possible independent data regarding average speed and reliability. As such, there was a pretty clear picture of who had better overall speed, which turned out to be everybody. Before the 4-lap time trials began on Saturday the 26th, Harry Hartz in his Cliff Durant Miller car set a 106 mph average speed lap, which was nearly SIX miles per hour faster than Jimmy Murphy’s pole lap from the year prior. This speed would soon be matched by the likes of Murphy and Milton. Already this Indy 500 was promising to be a showstopper with these speeds.
Qualifying began on Saturday, the 26th. Just like it is today, the starting grid would be set by doing 4 laps of the Indy oval at speed, with the average lap (measured in speed, not time) determining your placement. The gentleman Bugatti drivers had very consistent lap speeds, even if their trials were rather slow for the time. The best lap came from Raul Riganti, clocking in at a 95 mph average speed. The Mercedes cars fared only a little better. Lautenschlager and Werner both showed very strong speed in excess of 105 mph on the straights, but had to back off quite a bit in the corners. This evened out to give a lap speed of approximately 95 mph from Werner, and 93 mph from Lautenschlager.
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Cars lining up for the start of the 1923 Indy 500, ground view, pace car in front.
As the European manufacturers struggled, the Americans fared much better. Packard and Miller would both have drivers that beat out Jimmy Murphy’s 100 mph qualifying record from 1922. For Packard, it was DePalma, at around 100.42 miles per hour, promising to the public that this wouldn’t be a Miller whitewash as far as speed goes. But even then, the Millers stood head and shoulders above the rest, particularly with the HCS-entered cars. Tommy Milton would throw down the gauntlet with a murderous speed of 108 mph for pole position! Talk about crazy improvement from the year before. For reference, this year’s record-setting Indy 500 pole speed improved on last year’s by only 0.2 mph. Really speaks to how much of a wild west era 100 years ago was like. Milton’s time would be closely matched by the top two from the past year, Jimmy Murphy and Harry Hartz. They would be joined in the top 5 speeds by Cliff Durant himself, and Packard’s DePalma.
And now for the race itself. In front of a rambunctious crowd of over 100,000 strong (there were far less grandstand tickets back then), the pace car led the 24 cars to a rolling start as they roared into turn 1. Tommy Milton built up a very strong lead in the first lap, but Jimmy Murphy negotiated the cars in front of him from the third row to pass Milton by turn four, with Boyer and Hartz closely following. By lap three, Milton overtook Murphy to return to first place, setting the stage for the opening 50 laps of the race, which would be a constant back and forth tussle between these two drivers, both representing the top teams using Miller cars: Murphy for Durant Racing, and Milton for the H.C.S. Motor Company. The crowd could hardly believe such a close and fast battle, no one had ever seen anything like it (they would swap the lead 25 times). Joe Boyer and Ralph DePalma helped keep Packard within touching distance, and the supercharged Mercedes’ proved to surprise in race trim, with Werner reaching the top 10 very quickly.
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Leaderboard after Lap 10. Credits to goldenera.fi
The first 50 laps would see several retirements, including two high speed crashes. On lap 14 Mercedes’ Christian Lautenschlager skidded into the wall at turn 1 at nearly 90 mph, with the driver mostly uninjured. His riding mechanic Jakob Krauss was less fortunate, as he’d suffer a left leg contusion. Lautenschlager was the only driver in the field with a riding mechanic, and the mechanic’s injuries called into question the safety of even having one at all.
The other crash would come from Tom Alley, relief driver for former national champion Earl Cooper. Alley lost control at 105 mph entering turn 3, crashing straight into the fence and throwing Alley 20 feet from the car. Alley survived with serious lacerations to his back, but the sheer impact of his car on the catch fence would tragically take the life of a young local spectator, Herbert Shoup. I know it’s very upsetting, but in this day and age it’s always important to remind ourselves of, and respect, the consequences of the danger these drivers, and the people who watched them, faced when racing.
A stillframe of actual footage of Howdy Wilcox, Tommy Milton, and Jimmy Murphy battling for the lead in the 1923 Indianapolis 500. Taken from the official Indianapolis Motor Speedway YouTube channel.
Leaderboard After 20 out of 200 laps.
After Joe Boyer hit the pits for an extended period of time by lap 30 to change spark plugs, Packard’s best hope of a win faded, making it a Miller show up front. But the battle for the lead ramped up considerably by lap 50. Now, joining Milton and Murphy were their team-mates at HCS and Durant respectively, making it a two on two battle. Howard Wilcox had recovered from a serious qualifying mistake putting him much lower on the grid and now was in the mix with Milton, and Murphy was joined by the owner of the team himself, Cliff Durant. The Mercedes of Werner slowly improved once more, now up to 6th, showing promise that the supercharger may really be the game changer Mercedes had made it out to be.
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Jimmy Murphy (right). Image credits to Sports Car Digest.
Wilcox’s charge wouldn’t last very long, as by lap 60 his car had a broken clutch, dropping him out of the race. He would soon be followed by Murphy, who by the same time had problems brewing from within his Miller that slowed his pace a good bit. He went into the pits for nearly five laps to resolve these issues, which put him well down the order and hoping for a miracle for a repeat victory. This left only Durant and Milton up front, with only 10 seconds between them, and Harry Hartz half a track behind, though Durant began to ease off due to slowly-building exhaustion that would go on to affect several drivers throughout the day.
Even though they showed promise early on, much like the Frontenacs from the year prior, Packard would have a devastating and sudden end to their 500 charge. On lap 59, they lost Joe Boyer due to a defective differential, and it would seem that some of the mechanics didn’t check the head gaskets on the other two cars, as those breaking would be the downfall of both DePalma and Dario Resta, on laps 69 and 88 respectively. Less than halfway through the race the biggest challenger to the Millers on outright speed would be gone in a flash.
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Christian Werner, circa 1924. His car was the strongest of the Mercs at Indy that day. Image from Mercedes-Benz digital archive.
Where some challengers would flounder, others would silently surprise. By lap 80, the two remaining Mercedes’, piloted by Werner and Sailer, had found themselves in the top 5. Although not challenging race leader Milton for pace, it was as clear as day that the two Germans had consistent speed and utmost confidence with the M7294. With that being said, driving it at the pace they were proved extremely exhausting. Multiple stops had to be made to rotate drivers out of the cars, sometimes requiring assistance to even get out of the car. Despite all of that the Mercs maintained position, and by the halfway point had found themselves in third place.
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Howdy Wilcox in H.C.S. Special, 1923.
By that point, however, the battle for the lead had cooled off. On the back stretch of the circuit, Cliff Durant came to a dead stop. The exact reasoning never got clarified, but eventually his car restarted and he rejoined the race more than 6 laps behind the leader. This left his more conservative team-mate Harry Hartz inheriting second place, one of the only cars left to not get lapped by Tommy Milton. With a huge lead now established, the HCS team pulled Milton in to give him a rest, as even he isn’t impervious to severe exhaustion. Milton had blistered, severely injured hands, which prompted the team to order Milton to have some rest, handing the car over to Wilcox, who remained on standby after his own car had dropped out. With only Hartz and Werner anywhere near their huge lead, Wilcox took over, with only one goal in mind: to keep the car on the track until Milton recovered.
Leaderboard after 120 out of 200 laps
Wilcox would relieve Milton for 48 laps, and the car remained firmly in the lead over Hartz, even extending it to one full lap ahead. In that time several other cars would be vanquished through spending countless dozens of minutes in the pitlane, fixing mechanical problems that developed over time. This included the Mercedes of Werner, which by lap 120 was the only good Mercedes left. Their race was compromised significantly when the car caught fire in the pitlane, though it would be extinguished very quickly. As Werner’s car left the pitlane, relieved by Sailer, the crowd gave the Germans a standing ovation! Talk about ways of catching people’s attention, a pitstop fire is definitely one of them! Although this frantic moment almost took them out, at its very next pitstop at 140 laps, Werner’s battered Mercedes came into the pits overheated and clearly in need of a rest. They would rejoin after spending dozens of laps in the pits, but with the dream of a supercharged podium at the fastest race in the world officially over.
The excitement of the beginning of the race wore off by lap 150, as due to the high temperatures of the day, many drivers had to be relieved and substituted by their designated stand-ins, removing the grandeur from what started as such a competitive race. The high “driver attrition,” so to speak, caused the race to be significantly slower than the 1922 Indy 500. Although Milton had recovered in time to return to his HCS Miller, his lap speeds dropped off significantly, which did allow the catching Jimmy Murphy to unlap himself a couple times, but never enough to actively challenge for victory.
​
Official Race Results as reported in The Indianapolis Star, May 31st, 1923.
Tommy Milton crossing the line to receive the checkered flag for victory.
After 200 laps, five-and-a-half hours, At an average speed of approximately 90 miles per hour, bruised and battered, but NOT beaten, the H.C.S. Special Tommy Milton crossed the finish line in first place, making him the first-ever two-time champion of the Indianapolis 500. The crowd roared in excitement for such a valiant effort, very deserving of over $30,000 in winnings he received. Cliff Durant’s team also performed admirably despite failing to win, with Harry Hartz once again finishing 2nd only one lap behind Milton, and Jimmy Murphy taking home third place. This Indy 500 would go down in history as a groundbreaking one, putting Indianapolis back on the global stage and providing the best framework in the world for close wheel to wheel racing at high speeds, just like the Indy 500 does today.
Manufacturers left this race both brilliantly satisfied and extremely disappointed:
Bugatti wasn't exactly the fastest manufacturer out there, having only one finishing car in 9th place, 56 minutes behind Milton. But the aristocrats that funded their entry had an absolute blast driving at speed down the fastest racetrack on Earth, and for that you gotta at least respect the effort. The independent work of Prince de Cystria and his fellow aristocratic racing enthusiasts helped put Bugatti on the map across the pond. Within one year, Bugatti had made their Grand Prix debut at home, raced in the first Grand Prix at Monza, and now raced at Indianapolis. It’s safe to say their future looked bright at this point in time.
Packard, by the skin of their teeth, and thanks to a truly great driver lineup, had proven that they could come close to challenge Miller’s outright speed, but their mechanical shortcomings on the biggest stage would prove to be the most embarrassing. Just like Frontenac and Chevrolet before them, Packard would “pack up” their racing efforts at the end of the 1923 season, unwilling to spend more money on what they and the general public viewed as a losing effort.
​
With this result, it became 100% clear that Miller 122 was the open wheel race car to beat not just in America, but the world over, having been the only car to complete the full 200 lap distance in less than 6 hours, and occupying the entire top 4. Although several of the top brass manufacturers in Europe hadn’t raced their designs properly yet, in the first year of American-European convergence, it seemed quite clear that the Americans had a real threat up their sleeve. Rest assured, this would not be the end of Miller’s escapades in Grandes Epreuves this season…
It seems history is destined to repeat itself. Just like the Mercedes Formula 1 team of today, in this race Mercedes came with a vision, and despite a very slow start, they steadily improved their position, making the overall podium late in the race. This great result showed the world that a supercharged design really is a viable option in the racing landscape, and it’s safe to say that many in America took notice of their heroics. The M7294 sadly wouldn’t race again in 1923, but rest assured, supercharging would make a ferocious return later in the year…
And that concludes my retrospective on the 1923 Indianapolis 500. I want to give a big shoutout to all of the online resources I have used to compile images for this post, to give a more visual aspect to the race we’re looking back on. I also cannot thank enough https://www.goldenera.fi/, the absolutely phenomenal interwar Grand Prix racing website, for the more obscure and detailed information that simply can’t be found anywhere else, especially with the intermediate leaderboards. I adored writing this up, but it wouldn’t be what it is without the invaluable research by the other incredible racing historians that came before me.
I hope you guys enjoyed reading about this race as much as I did writing it up. Like I’ve always said, it's important that we remind ourselves of our history, especially with races as long ago as these, as they definitely deserve a fair shot in this fast-paced day and age. The Centennial Series will return in July, for the most important race of the year, and one which bears relevance even in today's racing world: The 1923 French Grand Prix.
Until next time, folks! :)
submitted by JohannesMeanAd2 to formula1 [link] [comments]

2023.05.31 08:20 miggs117 GPU issue / no display

Hi there,
Recently upgraded both GPU and CPU but all of a sudden, no display on any monitotv.
PC components:
Motherboard MSI B350M Bazooka
PSU Seasonic S12 II 520w
GPU (old/currently installed) NVIDIA 1050Ti
GPU (new) Sapphire Pulse RX 6650 - not installed as I have to adjust case due to size, seems it can't 100% fit in the PCIE
CPU (old/removed) AMD R5 1600
CPU (new) AMD R5 5600
RAM 16GB (2 8GB sticks)
2 SSD (250GB+1TB)
1 HDD 1TB
Case Deepcool Mattrexx 55
////////
Have tried:
Unplugging everything and back
Switching between both GPUs
Different monitors and cables
Plugging PC directly to wall power socket
Everything was working properly before installation and I'm wondering if the new CPU has something to do with it...? I'm investigating as I go but am pretty noobish with these things, so I'd appreciate any ideas you guys might have.
Many thanks in advance : )
submitted by miggs117 to buildapc [link] [comments]

2023.05.31 05:25 Audi1994 2015 sQ5 engine - 3.0L V6 - replacement question. Is it worth buying a new engine?

All right I just want to get some opinions.
Car Background: I have a 2015 sQ5 with 107K miles. New brakes, tires, and spark plugs were replaced at 85K miles.
Issue: I unfortunately got the oil changed at valvoline. They stripped the threads on the socket to my oil pan. Car oil went low and I have some engine damage. You can tell by the rickety sounds when you turn it over. It’s fine after it turns over but will get worse over time
Question: What do you think of just getting a new engine? My current cost estimates are $10-12K. I love the car and don’t really want to spend all of the money on a new car.
It’s cheaper than buying a used car and I feel like I could get a lot of miles out of it.
I’m livid and disappointed but want to do the right thing.
What do you guys think?
submitted by Audi1994 to Audi [link] [comments]

2023.05.31 03:30 FURTHEWIN i did the road atlanta circuit experience for this

i did the road atlanta circuit experience for this submitted by FURTHEWIN to granturismo [link] [comments]

2023.05.31 00:12 angry-elf Intermediate Guitar and Bass Player Looking for Advice

Hello, this may be a bit confusing, but I wanted to explore all of my options before really investing in a guitar setup.
I've been playing for about 3 years now, have played some live house shows with college friends, but mostly in my bedroom and may look into producing music soon. I have a focusrite and have hooked that up to my computer and used it with Guitar Rig 6 to produce some cool tones and stuff, but don't even have a guitar amp, just a bass amp (Fender Rumble 15) that I occasionally plug my guitar into.
I'd like to be able to play live either just for friends in my room or ideally get a gig and play at a small-medium sized venue. However, I'd also like it to sound decent in my room at lower volumes/with headphones. Also I'd like to be able to play most genres (R&B, folk, new and old country, classic rock, funk, etc.) except heavy metal, so I doubt I need a full stack.
What I'm looking for is advice/reviews on budgetish amps and/or modelers. As far as I know the below options are what I have to choose from.
*Fender GTX100 - $500
Boss Katana MkII 100 + footswitch - $380 + $150
Yamaha THR30II Wireless - $550
Peavey Vypyr X3 100-watt Modeling GuitaBass/Acoustic Combo Amp - $400
Line 6 Pod Go/Wireless + PA/FRFR Speaker - $450/550 + ~$200
*Line 6 Pod Go/Wireless + Fender Rumble 100 - $450/550 + $330
The stars indicate which I think would be best for but I'm looking for more input. Should I just get a smaller amp like a Spark Mini until I actually get bettestart a band/get a gig? A friend of mine recommended getting something smaller (wattage wise like his THR30II) to play around and practice with, and if I get a gig where I need more volume, buy an upgrade that day. Would a modeler through a bass amp sound weird or could I fix it with EQ settings?
I know tone would ideally be better with a nice tube amp, but that's a bit outside my price range and I feel like most places I will likely play, the only people that will be able to tell the difference between that and a modeler are other guitar players. Most people just want loudness lol.
Thanks so much in advance!
TL;DR: Should I get a Spark Mini and wait to get something bigger and better for when I start gigging? And would a Line 6 Pod Go or other modeler work with a Rumble 100 or sound too weird?
submitted by angry-elf to GuitarAmps [link] [comments]

2023.05.30 23:23 LiseEclaire [Leveling up the World] - Academy Arc - Chapter 756

Out there - Patreon (for all those curious or wanting to support :))
At the Beginning
Adventure Arc - Arc 2
Wilderness Arc - Arc 3
Academy Arc - Arc 4
Previously on Leveling up the World…
 
Nil used to say that even the greatest challenge became simple once the logic behind it was unraveled. At the time, the old echo was referring to awakening trials, but vortexes were surprisingly similar. Given enough resources and information, even life could be treated in the same fashion. Dallion had a while to go before reaching that level. The current vortex, though, was a different matter.
Creating potions wasn’t an easy experience. Aside from everything else, it required a good understanding of nymph magic methods and the ability to perform them. Thankfully, Dallion’s randomly esoteric interests had prepared him for such an eventuality.
After his protective layer of magic threads was complete, he approached the sea. Same as before, a dozen tendrils shot out in his direction. Summoning his thread splitter dagger, Dallion sliced the tips off, encasing the free elements in aether spheres of his own. That was another thing about magic—it always went towards those that were stronger. One careless move and even a high-level mage might have his magic stolen, by a creature, rival, or even the vortex environment itself. However, with enough skill and ingenuity, the opposite was also true.
One by one, the bubbles of captive magic were consumed, then released again, only this time forming an entirely new set of spells.
Swords? Onda asked. That’ll hardly work.
“Think of it as a meat grinder,” Dallion replied. All he needed was a makeshift drill to let him make his way through the sea. Having his own liquid spells fight the rest of the sea was only going to grant him a bit more time. Between that and the protective magic layer, it had to be enough.
No, I mean it won’t work. The moment you—
Let him learn his own mistakes, Harp interrupted. Her tone was calm, even pleasant, but it had the effect of lightning from a clear sky. It’s the only way he can progress.
“Thanks for the vote of confidence.” Dallion kept collecting magic threads for a few more minutes, then did another point attack. The start of a tunnel opened up on the sea’s surface. Quickly, Dallion threw all of his liquid spells inside, then followed. Same as before, the mass of the sea attempted to fill in the void, but this time it was hindered by the liquid wall of swords.
​
VORTEX BREACH
Overall stability 99%
​
Spells clashed against each other, filling the air with hundreds of purple rectangles. The damage was minuscule, and still a constant reminder of the eternal struggle between invader and realm. It was no wonder that mages were so cutthroat: there was only one thing certain upon entering a vortex: someone was going to absorb the other. The Academy’s main role was to teach novices how to survive.
Just like hunting, Dallion thought. On the other hand, he had never been the typical hunter. When it came to vortexes, there could be no offer of draw or surrender.
Twisting around, Dallion performed another point attack, drilling further into the sea. The number of rectangles doubled. Meanwhile, the size of the hold was reduced by half. The amount of spells Dallion had poured in—seemingly cast initially—was now wearing thin.
Maybe you should have spent a bit more time fathering threads, the armadil shield said.
“It’s all a formula.” Dallion did another point attack. “If the stability of the tunnel is decreased, I just need to go faster.”
All of his instincts shouted for him to split into instances, or at the very least create a few echoes to help in. His wisdom told him not to. All he had to do was remain calm. The emblems and artifacts he was wearing ensured that he’d be ejected from the vortex. Of course, there was never a guarantee. The higher the vortex level, the greater the danger it posed.
Summoning his hammer, Dallion did a double point attack, up and down, to keep the tunnel collapsing above him. He had gone so deep that the opening was the size of a coin.
“I told you it’ll work, Onda,” he said with a touch of glee. “It’s all logic and magic principles.”
No sooner had he said that than a mass of magic pierced through Dallion’s wall of spells, ending up in the tunnel. Believing his wall of swords to have been breached, Dallion unsummoned both his weapons and cast a new series of spells to plug the hole. That proved to be a mistake.
​
MODERATE WOUND
Your health has been reduced by 20%
​
What the heck? Dallion pulled back, summoning his harpsisword again.
Five feet away, the mass of magic had changed into a creature.
​
VORTEX MINION
Species: AETHERCORN
Class: MAGIC
Health: 0% HP
Traits:
- BODY 20
- MIND 20
- PERCEPTION 20
- REACTION 20
- MAGIC 40
Skills:
- ATTACK
- GUARD
- SPELLCRAFT
- ENTANGLE (Species Unique)
- RAIN OF BLADES (Species Unique)
- CHARGE (Species Unique)
Weakness: HOOVES
​
A unicorn? Dallion deflected the creature’s next attack with his weapon.
Looking at it, the minion was no different from a bladicorn, only created entirely out of threads of magic.
Tried to warn you, old man, Onda said from his realm. Vortexes adapt. You make a counter, they counter your counter.
Dallion was too busy fighting the creature to respond. Magic adaptability was well known. Having loose threads spontaneously create a creature, that was something new. No doubt there was some tome describing the theoretical process in vast detail. Seeing it in practice, though, was a lot.
Without wasting any time, Dallion flew down, then infused his harpsisword with spark, as he did an upward strike. Knowing what such a creature was capable of, his only course of action was to kill it as before it could start casting spells. The difficulty was not destroying his own spells in the process. For all the power of point and line attacks, they were going to do as much damage to Dallion’s own spells, resulting in him winning the encounter, but losing the overall fight.
The aethercorn quickly caught on, moving away and to the side of the tunnel. As long as it increased the distance and remained close to Dallion’s wall of blades, it would have the upper hand.
Sneaky bastard. Dallion cast several aether barriers.
Magic symbols covered the minion’s entire body. As they appeared, Dallion went through all the memorized spells in real time. Normally, he could tell easily what someone was casting once several of the major symbols had formed. In this case, the creature planned to create an aether explosion. In the real world, Dallion wouldn’t even bat an eye. Explosions were a lot less efficient against mages as one might think. Here, though, things were different; the minion wasn’t targeting him, but the wall of blades itself. If there were an explosion, the entire tunnel would collapse, leaving Dallion to rely on his “second skin”.
A new aether barrier appeared next to the aethecorn, then shoved it into the wall before the spell could be completed. The threads—representing aether blades in liquid form—mercilessly sliced into its body, causing the being to lose stability. The entire form burst like a popped balloon, spilling magic threads everywhere.
The moment Dallion saw that, he knew that his time was running out. Although inefficient, the vortex had found a way to breach his protective barrier. The only solution was to pass through the sea before the overall collapse.
Want a boost, boss? Lux asked. The firebird knew better than to assist uninvited.
“No!” Dallion said firmly, casting a new flight spell. “Return to my realm.”
Several more breaches occurred along the tunnel. Aethercorns emerged in front and behind Dallion. Some attacked him directly, others started casting spells to weaken the tunnel. At this point, dealing with them was an impossible task. Still, Dallion did several more point attacks, clearing out as many as possible. Unfortunately for him, that didn’t prove to be a lot. The minions were both fast and intelligent enough to keep to areas that were difficult to hit. Only the ones that attempted to outright block Dallion’s progress ended up being destroyed.
Gritting his teeth, Dallion started casting the flood spell. It was a move that verged to desperation, but the only thing that could help him right now. Within seconds, the portal emerged, then vanished behind Dallion. With a bit of luck, it was going to keep the minions occupied a bit longer.
Behind him, the top of the tunnel collapsed. The threads he had used to create his wall of swords was too thin to coat the entire space created by the point attacks. The purple sea splashed in, mixing with the water coming from Dallion’s portal.
​
MODERATE WOUND
Your health has been reduced by 20%
​
Another alicorn managed to stab Dallion’s leg with its horn as he flew by, effectively halving his health.
Leave the vortex, Harp said.
“I can do this.” Dallion had unsummoned the hammer, focusing on doing point attacks forward, while using his left hand to boost his speed. “I’m close to the end. I can feel it.”
You’re not ready for this vortex. You’re close, but you still aren’t there yet.
“I am.” Dallion insisted. It wasn’t that he had become complacent, but the last few months his progress had crawled to a stop. He might have learned a vast number of magic symbols and spells, but his magic trait remained at twenty-three. There was no way he was giving up a level four vortex, especially this one. “I am there,” he whispered.
Purple water kept seeping in. The top of the tunnel had completely collapsed. Spells created by vortex minions darted past him. Some even made contact, repelled by his protective layer of magic threads.
“Just a few seconds more,” Dallion said, more to himself than Harp.
He had been going through the sea for quite a while. As far as distance was concerned, it had to range in the dozens of miles, if not more. While space in any magic realm was an illusion, there was a limit to how much something could be stretched. Sooner or later, the sea had to come to an end.
“Ruby, create some wind,” he ordered.
Keeping firmly to Dallion’s shoulder, the shardfly flicked its wings, sending a flurry of wind slashes forward. This was by no means an elegant way to breach the tower, but as long as it worked Dallion had no intention of complaining.
Further and further down he went. His speed had increased to the point that he couldn’t see new aethercorns emerge. And yet, it all kept on going. It seemed that he had entered a bottomless pit. The sensation of doubt emerged. Was it a good move to keep persisting? If he quit now, would it all go to waste? There was no telling how long the vortex would remain. Maybe it would last for a few more hours. If he was lucky, it might appear again in another week or so.
No! Dallion told himself. If he couldn’t complete this, what chance did he stand against Grym and the traitorous battlemages? They had accumulated their magic for decades. If he didn’t take advantage of every opportunity presented to him, he might as well become a clerk at the Academy.
Point attacks kept pushing the tunnel further and further down until suddenly they didn’t. It only lasted a fraction of a second, but Dallion was able to catch it. The devastating amount of force had been effortlessly pushed to the sides, like water being poured on a mirror.
That was it—the end of the sea. Dallion had finally reached the solid barrier. At this point, he’d usually take the time to find a weakness, then slice through it and create a portal leading to the other side. With time being a luxury he didn’t have, Dallion resorted to the second best thing. Increasing the number of point attacks, he cast the magic depletion spell he had learned from Raven.
Lightning shot out in all directions, instantly ending Dallion’s flight spell as well as causing all magic threads to pull back.
“Shield!” Dallion summoned the armadil shield. “Cocoon me!” He performed one final point attack with his harpsisword.
The armadil shield expanded, becoming a metal sphere around Dallion. Half a second later, the impact tossed Dallion to the inside of it.
​
MINOR WOUND
Your health has been reduced by 5%
​
BREACH ENFORCER
(+2 Body)
Inertia and the force of will helped you breach into the tower’s core. You were lucky you didn’t go splat.
Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this story, consider joining my patreon or check out my other stories on redditserials:
The Scuu Paradox (a Space Opera Sci Fi)
The Cassandrian Theory (a Space Opera Sci Fi)
The Impeccable Adventure of the Reluctant Dungeon (Dungeon Core Adventure Comedy)
Uncharted Waters (An Urban Fantasy Detective Noir)
Next
submitted by LiseEclaire to redditserials [link] [comments]

2023.05.30 20:52 lazymentors Marketing News Recap - What changed last Week?

Top 5 Updates of the Week:

Google:

Tiktok:

Instagram

Meta :

Twitter:

YouTube:

LinkedIn:

Snapchat:

Reddit:

Advertising:

Sales:

Microsoft & AI

Pinterest:

Marketing:

What are your thoughts on all these recent updates and changes? You can subscribe here to receive these updates every week with sources.
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