FirstNext
Well, it only took Canada burning and the East Coast turning into smoky rendition of a Mexico filter for this chapter to finally reach completion. Regularly-scheduled programming should hopefully resume after July 4th. Until then, drink some water, don't do gender reveals in the forest, and hang in there, guys!
Pursuant to Imperial Decree 10928, and in recognition of the reservist nature of the unit, the 1st Rocket Artillery Regiment has been found to satisfy the standards outlined in the Decree. However, in light of the significant budget and nonmaterial resource allocations that were required to bring the aforementioned unit up to levels considered satisfactory by existing standards, additional considerations beyond readiness and training levels must be taken into account.
Throughout the appeals process, you have repeatedly indicated that you believe rocket artillery to still have a place on the modern battlefield, citing recent reports from the Terran Planetary District command of the Sol System sector, as well as early after-action reports from the Intervention on Raknos, which you claim to support your argument. However, further investigation into this claim by independent analysts on behalf of Armored Warfare Command has found it to hold no merit in light of the recent restructuring outlined in detail in prior communications. Simply put, neither the Empress, nor her advisors, believe that the maintenance and garrisoning of units intended strictly for low-intensity counter-insurgency operations remains doctrinally viable.
Additionally, the excessive monetary and nonmonetary resources you requested in preparation for the evaluation, in light of the on-par, verging on substandard performance of the 1st Rocket Artillery Regiment, even accounting for the large number of fresh troops that needed to be drawn down from other posts to fill out its ranks, is highly suggestive on the part of you, the honorable Ashira Rakishal. This discrepancy is of high importance, and you may rest assured that it has already been publicly filed by the time this letter appears in your inbox.
Such a discrepancy is indicative of either incompetence or corruption on your part. Commanding officers may face demotion or a possible dishonorable discharge for the former, or, for the latter, a fine totalling no more than one-and-a-half times the estimated sum of the damages assessed, guaranteed dishonorable discharge and a potential prison term of no more than four years. Due to there being no evidence to suggest the latter, the former approach has been suggested by the Armored Warfare Command. Effective fourteen (14) days after this order is signed, your rank will be reduced and you will be relieved of commanding the Regiment. You may be restationed at this time, and your government-issued devices may be deactivated to facilitate this restationing. The 1st Rocket Artillery Division, in accordance with Decree 10928, will be dissolved and its assets relocated to other units wherever possible. Any remaining property will be auctioned under section 12.57.3(g) of the Naval and Marine Surplus Handling Act of 651 at the Val’tira Central Forwarding Depot.
Ashira finished reading the letter, but the words meant nothing to her. She hadn't slept in half a week, if not longer, in anticipation of the results from her hearing. In fact, she'd hardly gotten up from her desk; the 1st RAR was on leave until the final verdict would be announced publicly, and it was all she could do but to refresh her inbox every few minutes and watch mindless clips in the background that she hardly heard and never managed to remember a word from.
She tried reading it again, but the letters seemed to float off the screen, each one wrapped in a halo of bluish white screen glow. Nothing made sense.
'We were found to be satisfactory, but then… why does it talk about my rank? Am I getting promoted? There was something about dishonorable discharges, too, so… are some of my girls getting let go? I guess I will have to break the news to them. And it said something about budget overruns… well, mom still owes me from when she forgot to get me anything for my eighteenth last month, so I guess she can pay them back for all the equipment and training I had to authorize…'
Her thoughts were already drifting off into a vague haze when her stomach made a low noise, reminding her of the fact that she hadn't eaten in hours, mostly because her supply of food had run dry. Almost in a trance, she rose from her desk and, almost on autopilot, set about getting ready to go out and do some shopping, as she always did. The floor of her living quarters was almost entirely hidden by weeks-old discarded packaging, mountains of dirty clothes, and bottles half-filled with liquid that was either expired juice or urine. Narrow paths snaked through the mess; one to the bathroom, one to her bed, and one more still to the door, which she now slowly shambled towards.
Ashira pulled a pair of battered combat boots over her bare feet - she'd run out of socks that didn't offend her senses some weeks prior - without bothering to lace them, shoved her wallet into the front pocket of the fireproof jumpsuit she wore with absolutely nothing underneath and hadn't changed out of all week, and shoved the door open to head out. Immediately, the smell - or, perhaps, a lack thereof - of the corridor hit her. All the sleeping quarters were locked. It was quiet. Though her boots were heavy, her footsteps barely made a noise as she plodded along the thick, purple and topaz-blue carpet that lined the floor.
The door to the lobby was propped open by a cleaner's cart, and a heavy perfume of chemical detergents wafted through the opening as she approached. In the lobby was a small, older Helkam male, with his long and, in places, graying hair tied back with a beige bandana that matched his civilian contractor's coveralls, just as his green noise-canceling headphones matched the company logo on his uniform. He was dutifully mopping the already nigh-spotless polished stone floor, and there was only a narrow dry strip connecting doorway to doorway.
“‘Scuse me,” she mumbled, tapping him on the shoulder to alert him to her presence. “Coming through.”
He flinched away from her touch, and she flinched away from him, as though his own shock was contagious. “The fuck, you touch me!?” He exclaimed, whipping around to face her, mop at the ready like a Turox-prod. His face burned a pale but furious violet, contorted with fear and a readiness to fight. But, just as suddenly as he’d come to face her, his expression became one of confusion. His mop dipped down, and they stood in silence for a split second that seemed to drag on for entire minutes. Then, he made an odd face, as if of disgust or contempt, and stepped aside, motioning for her to pass by him.
Ashira would have been puzzled by this, if only she were not so frazzled and caught up in her own thoughts. She stepped outside and was immediately hit by a cool breeze; it was night out, and the wind blew in just as it always did. Not that it bothered her much; over the previous months, she had found that it didn’t seem to affect her very much. The only reason she wasn’t feeling the full brunt of the evening gales was that the buildings around the officer’s quarters were mostly two- and three-story affairs, their height and old, weathered stone cladding the last specters of the prominence and prestige the base enjoyed in the long-before times. Before the Unification Wars were but a distant memory. Before the Periphery had become the final, unconquerable frontier. Before the Empress-damned mess that was Raknos. Before Rocket Artillery had become hopelessly obsolete.
The wind blew, relentless and steadfast, as she trudged towards the only place on-base that still had its lights on. The general store. She didn’t know what she wanted to buy there, nor if there would indeed be anything on the shelves that she’d want to buy, but she felt she had to try, anyway. The only rest she could get now was chemically-assisted, either through over-the-counter sleeping pills, or copious volumes of booze, or, when the going got particularly rough, a combination of both. She was vaguely aware of the damage she was probably inflicting upon her organs, but she figured that they were a worthy sacrifice. Still, some days she couldn't fall asleep, even boozed up and medicated as much as she would dare, so she would lie in bed, staring at the ceiling, hoping that the splitting headaches she would get from that chemical cocktail would make her ears ring loud enough to drown out her intrusive thoughts.
The store wasn't particularly warm when she entered, and it reeked of cigarette smoke and mildew as always. The nearest set of shelves to the door were stocked with bags of some sort of imported breaded meat snacks labeled Pufriyah - Ancestral Recipe, Modern Taste! across the top shelf and cases of Red Grains across the bottom, as if some long-forgotten planner had seen into the future and anticipated Ashira's shopping habits exactly. Without much thought, she pulled a case of the Reds off the bottom shelf, her back, which had been sore for months by then, crying out in pain that just barely cut through her apathy. She threw a few bags of the Pufriyah snacks on top of it, entirely indifferent to their name, slogan, and brown-furred chibi mascot that spoke to their Rakiri intended consumer base.
'It's all just carbs and protein at the end of the day,' she figured. It wasn't like she could taste much of them anyway, had she really cared to learn their flavor. It was close to a month prior that she'd caught a nasty cold, and her constant sleep deprivation and stress hadn't lent themselves to it clearing itself up on its own. Her senses of taste and smell were unnecessary to her whipping her unit into shape, she'd decided, once she learned that the antivirals she needed to take to make her symptoms clear up would need her to be on bed rest for three straight days. She could always take them later, anyway.
The bottles of Red Grain clanked against each other as Ashira heaved the case onto the checkout counter. The bags on top of it slid off, and she only just caught them in time. The noise awoke the lone cashier, another civilian contractor, from her nap atop her wobbly three-legged stool. She quite inelegantly hopped off of it and came to lean against the counter with one hand, the other lazily waving the scanner of a specialized Data-Slate over the merchandise.
"ID for the Reds," the cashier groggily slurred out, patting down her many pockets in search of a cigarette box. "Standard procedure, nothing personal against you."
Ashira stared at her, dumbfounded, for a few moments too many, before it hit her that she needed to pull up her Marine Profile on her Slate. Mumbling an apology mixed with an excuse, she reached into one of the few - albeit cavernously huge - pockets of her fireproof suit and produced the grimy government-issue device in question. The lock screen was set to her ID, just to make such common interactions go by quicker.
She pushed the Slate across the counter, expecting to get it slid back to her in a few moments, and maybe a manufactured smile and a nod if the cashier noticed the Rakishal House crest in the corner and realized she was of noble blood. But this time, none of that happened. The woman across from her frowned, squinting as she analyzed something about the ID, her face no more than perhaps a few centimeters from it. She looked up at Ashira, then back down at the ID, then back at her, and then all of a sudden her confusion melted into some odd mixture of shock and disgust. She wordlessly pushed the Slate back across the counter, scanned the case of Red Grain, and then motioned to a now very baffled and somewhat offended Ashira that she was free to leave.
In her sleep-deprived state, Ashira had barely the mental capacity to remember where the door was, much less to ponder the deeper meaning behind what had transpired. Vowing to come back the next day, after getting a good night's sleep, and get the insolent cashier fired, she trudged out of the shop, back to the officers' quarters, where the Helkam man was still toiling away in the lobby, now wiping down the Turox-leather seats, and into her own suite.
She brushed the most egregious of the trash from her bed, with the arm that wasn't clutching the spoils of her trek to her chest, and allowed gravity to gracelessly guide her into its soft, fitted-sheet embrace. With a sigh of barely-felt relief, she cracked the cap off her first bottle with her tusks and took a long, well-earned swig.
The next thing she knew, it was morning.
Everything hurt. Ashira's muscles all ached like she'd run every Deathshead Commando bootcamp course, back-to-back, without stopping. Her head felt like a bloated, rotten gourd, ready to burst at the slightest touch. Even though her eyes were closed, what little light made it through them felt as though it was piercing straight through her eyeballs and into her brain. However, through it all, she noted an odd, almost pleasant sensation that she hadn't felt in so long, she'd almost forgotten the word for it.
'Empress all-powerful, this must be the first time in almost a year that I've had a full night's sleep!'
Ashira would have kept laying there, exactly where she was. The room was quiet. No one needed her. Her unit was stood down for another few days. She could just stay in bed, in peace, and wait for the pain to subside. But the very second she considered that possibility, her bladder cried in agony, and she simultaneously came to the realizations that she would not be able to hold it in for even a minute longer, and that she was wearing her only set of relatively-clean clothes.
She pushed herself up and onto her feet, and that motion sent showers of sparks cascading through her vision, even as her eyes stayed firmly shut. Her ears rang from the pain as though she'd stuck her head between the prongs of a colossal tuning fork, her limbs felt numb as she stumbled through her room, and the only way she could tell up from down was from the direction gravity kept pulling her every time she lost her balance.
She hit the door frame to the bathroom by chance, only recognizing it as the right one by the light switch her elbow painfully caught. From there, she went entirely by feel. There was the sink, the towel rack, the soap dispenser, the shower door… and finally, having run out of wrong things to blindly grope around for, her hand bumped into the tank of the toilet. Even bending down made her head fill with the pounding beat of her heart, every pulse seeming to try and push her brain out of her skull through her eyes and ears. She nearly blacked out as she sat down.
The next thing Ashira knew, she was doubled over her sink, dry-heaving, her fireproof pants pulled back up around her waist but neither zipped shut nor clipped together at the front. She knew for certain that nothing had come up, because she was newly aware of the desiccated dryness in her mouth and throat, as if all her flesh had been replaced with fine-grit sandpaper. Still lacking the resolve to open her eyes, she blindly clawed at the knobs of the sink until water began to pour, and then began scooping handfuls of it into her mouth.
After a few gulps, she began to feel a bit better. Her mouth, though it still felt dry as ever, was at least now rid of the horrible, sour, metallic taste that she hadn't registered until it was gone, and the unintentional splashing of water onto her face did wonders in helping her start to truly wake up. The very next instant, though, a numbing pain spread across her hands and face, and down her throat. The water was freezing cold.
That didn't deter Ashira, though, and she kept drinking until she knew that she would not be able to swallow a drop more without throwing up. Her hands were numb from the frigid water, as was her face. Icy rivulets streamed down her chin and throat and under her unzipped collar, leaving cool, glistening trails across her breasts and stomach.
Somehow, this numbness that spread across her fingers and cheeks seemed to have carried over to her hangover, as well, though whether it was the rapid cooling, or the much-needed hydration, or both, she neither knew nor cared. Her head now hurt with the intensity of just any old headache, her skin did not feel two sizes too small for her organs, and her muscles and joints barely ached with any more intensity than they usually did.
She opened her eyes for the first time since she'd gotten out of bed, ready and eager to take full advantage of her hangover cure while its effects still lasted, and almost fell over as she stumbled away from the mirror in shock. The reflection in the mirror was decidedly not her.
Bloodshot eyes stared out at her from dark, sunken orbits; two craters on a puffy face rendered a waxy, pale bluish lilac by months of near-total involuntary isolation from the daylight. Raven hair framed that lifeless visage, once kept neat and short, now a wild, greasy, and, above all, long Seetcha's nest. It had once had lively sun-bleached streaks where her beret and headset did not fully cover it, from when she would ride head-out in her trusty command Ishtarti-603, but they were now mere faded tips spread unevenly through the carbon-black tangle.
The rest of her was not in much better shape. Her bust, though always on the fuller size, was nonetheless noticeably larger than it had been the last time Ashira had inspected her reflection, and doubtless was the cause of her incessant back pain. In the same moment, she became aware that her breasts rested not against the top of her six-pack - which, while rarely worked out and never particularly defined, had, in its mere presence, still been a point of quiet pride for her - but at the upper limits of a beer gut, whose faint outline was visible even under the baggy suit she was wearing for the umpteenth day in a row, and which stood as a testament to the inertia she had descended into while trying to force the RAR into motion.
'Fuck, there's the evidence of my battle. Mom was right, I do eat like a Turox before the slaughter. I have no self-control. Why do I even bother with this restructuring business if I can't even keep to my own damn fitness goals?' Her gloom, though deep and all-consuming while it weighed upon her soul, dissipated just as quickly as it set in. 'But I knew it would happen, so why does it surprise me? I knew going in that I was burning myself up in the present to keep future me warm. It's just a few kilos. A dozen at most. No big deal. Just need a bit more exercise for a month or two and I'll be right back in parade shape!'
It did, however, make her think to place an order with the on-base supply depot for some new clothes. With the Unification Day festivities looming, it would simply not do for this quite temporary distortion of her Noble figure to be so brazen, she firmly decided.
The order would have to wait, however. When Ashira brought out her government-issued Data-Slate from her front pocket in a familiar motion, already compiling a list of all the workout gear, field uniforms, and parade garb she would need in a size up, the device, in an apparent bout of unruliness, first resisted her efforts to turn it on, and when it was finally made to do so, simply boot-looped endlessly on the startup screen. For all intents and purposes, it was a Slate-shaped paperweight, and Ashira didn’t even have enough physical documents in her possession to make use of this one purpose it had left.
‘First my clothes, now the one Slate mom can’t track me on. What’s next, is my ID going to expire all of a sudden? Will my physical Chit card have a bad contact?’
There was only so much she could take at one time, so she decided to do the sensible thing and get something to eat before returning to dealing with her problems. She pulled out her Slate. It was almost noon.
'No one needs to see me like this. How can I command the regiment if they see me in such a state? I'll order breakfast - well, lunch now, but who's really counting? - and I can join everyone for dinner, once I get a chance to order in some new clothes, and shower, and maybe do something with my hair.'
With a practiced motion, so automatic it was almost a reflex, she swiped through the interface until she found what she was looking for. There, between Combatters forum sites, was a saved page for the Hungry Gal's order menu. Her chit was already saved in the system. All she needed was to tap on "Large Hot Meal #5 - Drink Combo" and…
CHIT DECLINED - PAYMENT BLOCKED
"That can't be right," Ashira muttered aloud as she tapped the button again, over and over, to the same effect. "It's a government card. Unless- ah, right, it must be the new policy they were talking about! Can't believe they made food expenses count as personal expenditure only, the nerve of these credit-pinching…"
She went into the payment details section of the page, switched the number to her personal one, and selected "Large Hot Meal #5 - Drink Combo" again. This time, a new message appeared.
INVALID ACCOUNT - DEACTIVATED
The gnawing hunger in her stomach disappeared in an instant, replaced by a solid iron bar of dread. Why was her account deactivated? Who could have done it? The only other person with access privileges was her own mother, and why would she…?
Ashira knew the answer. She didn't want to know it, to acknowledge that she knew it for fear of what it meant, but she did. With shaking hands, she opened the notification screen of her Slate, and saw she had unread messages from her family group chat. She tapped that notification, expecting a deluge of fury about her weight, her spending habits, her slovenly appearance in public, or any manner of other things, but there was but one message, sent earlier that morning. It was from her mother, indeed, but it was just four words long.
I got the letter.
She wanted to protest, to scream, "What letter could you possibly mean?," but she couldn't. A memory, hazy from the fog of insomnia that had dulled her thoughts at the time, played against her volition in her mind. The words hadn't made sense to her then, but they did now. Robotically, she closed the message from her mother and searched through her inbox for one marked with a government seal. She opened it, and read it in silence. The last few lines were the hardest to read, because by then the tears had begun to well up in her eyes.
It was over. Her career, her noble status, her finances, her life as she knew it… they were all gone, and it had taken just one letter to send it all crashing down.

I have a bit of a puzzle here, dealing with an odd setup that I can't change.
I have a series of data sources in folders by week with an excel file for every day of the week (Mon.xlsx, Tue.xlsx, etc).
I have a summary sheet that I have built for each week that is copied into each week's folder. It uses a variable Folderpath to build the path to each day.
Is there a way that I can check if the file exists and if it doesn't load a blank worksheet for that particular day? Currently it throws an error message and does not change the prior week data for the same day.
The current code to load a particular day is:
let
Folderpath=Excel.CurrentWorkbook(){[Name="FolderPath"]}[Content]{0}[Column1],
FullPathToFile1=Folderpath&"Fri.xlsx",
Source = Excel.Workbook(File.Contents(FullPathToFile1), null, true),
#"INPUT-Welding_Sheet" = Source{[Item="INPUT-Welding",Kind="Sheet"]}[Data],

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Hi, I have been wondering this for a long time but praying that maybe it wasn't true, that maybe I was the problem like she always said. I do not feel comfortable disclosing my age or gender.

1. My mom has very obvious favorites. She favors my younger sister 10f and doesn't give a crap about the rest of us. When its our word against hers she will automatically take my sisters side. My sister has become quite spoiled and annoying and will even throw fits, whine, tattle and even tell fibs that get people in trouble because she enjoys to watch us fight. My mom let's my sister steamroll all over the rest of us and let's her do/say whatever she wants to but as soon as either her or my sister get called out she calls us "narcs" "abusers" and "bullies"
   
2. My mom will twist things that me and my siblings say and try to villainize us, making us out to be the problematic one. She will turn an innocent request into us saying horrible things about her and then she will rage at us.
   
3. My mom is constantly threatening to walk out on us. She has done this ever since we were little. She would pack her bags and take an hour long walk while me and my siblings were hysterical and begging her to stay. She would usually scapegoat me and say that I was the reason she was leaving. Then all of my siblings would of course hate me. Now she will threaten to kick people out (anyone who isn't her favorite kid) and make them move in with our emotionally abusive dad. But my dad doesn't like me at all and he would refuse to take me in. I would be homeless.
   
4. Whenever me or my sister (she hates us both) have a relationship problem (romantic or Platonic) she immediately takes the other person's side before even hearing the story and blames us and calls us abusers. My mom is also superrrr into NVC (Non violent communication) I know, ironic right? Anyway she loves that and she watches this lady named Doctor ramani and now she loves the whole narcissism idea. She loves it so much that she calls anyone she doesn't like a narcissist and she will turn her own behaviors around on the other person.
   
5. Whenever there is a conflict and one of us opens our mouths about a mental issue or anything she immediately victimizes herself and turns it all around and tries to make us look like the bad guy (particularly me, this is all usually with me) and then she will go on about how much of a terrible parent she us and how much of a failure she is and if we hate her so much we should just leave or move in with our dad.
   
6. My mom hates to admit it but she was horribly neglectful to us as children. She has 6 kids and originally planned on "" us. Now I say Homeschooling with quotation marks because it absolutely was not homeschooling and I am all in favor of actual homeschooling. My mom never sat us down with a workbook, she never did any curriculum, she barely took us anywhere, she never helped us learn any important skills and basically left us to do nothing all day. I should also note that she was extremely against technology and we didn't have any phones or anything of our own until like late 2018. No education, no school, no activities, barely any friends. We were basically prisoners and she wasn't even hyper religious. Again, I have no problem with homeschooling but it has to be done right and it has to be approached with great care.
   
7. My mom HATES leaving the house with a passion and when one of us even makes the tiny request to go anywhere she will fly into a full on rage and blame us and make us seen like we are unreasonable for asking to get out of the house when we are cooped up for like three days straight. I must also mention that we do not have a household AC, we don't have proper heat and our showers are cold. She will even complain about going to the store to get food and will try to put it off as long as possible till there is literally army type food in the cupboards. She will be furious and guilt us for hours and hours and act like she is a martyr and like she's cinderella for doing the bare minimum.
   
8. She acts like she is doing a big favor for parenting us at all and not walking out on us. She does the same thing whenever she spends time with us, she will act like she's the #1 mom.
   
9. She will flat out say the most horrendous, cruel, heartbreaking things before we have people over and then as soon as the guest walks into the house she is all sweetness and sunshine.
   
10. Whenever someone has a deep insecurity about themselves, something usually that is a result of her piss poor parenting, she will weaponize it and use it against the person and drive them to tears. For example, I am chronically ill and autistic. For my autism I am on the higher support needs end of the spectrum. I also suffer from debilitating OCD and depression and severe chronic pain and fatigue. At one point I had to use a wheelchair and rn I have to use a cane most places. She will flat out use those insecurities against me and say things that are obviously implying that I'm lazy, worthless, useless and a burden. I may be autistic but I'm not stupid.
    
11. Shes super fucking ableist. She will literally talk about how autism is like polio and stuff and talk about how it needs to be cured in front of me and my two other autistic siblings. Like c'mon? Wtf? Like you are making us feel like monsters, not your kids. Shes antivaxx and blames vaccines for my autism. Like please educate urself women. Like I said before, she compares autism to diseases and acts like it's a bad thing.
    
12. She used to physically abuse me. There was a time when I was 8 she grabbed my arms so hard and shook me that it left bruises, both physical and psychological. She once tried to push me down the stairs with a chair and then with her hands. I can't even remember much of my childhood but I think she tried to Stab me a few times. I know she has hit me and my siblings before, that i know for a fact. She used to also emotionally abuse us and call us horrible insults that I would rather not repeat because they still haunt me to this day.
    
13. She used to make US think we were leaving. When she didn't feel like pulling a stunt where she would pretend to leave, she would freak us out by packing our bags and make us think she would kick us out on the street when we were little. It was horribly scary for us and it's traumatic as all fuck.
    
14. I remember I mentioned a few times I wanted to try out school and let me tell you that she LOST IT. Think mother gothel from tangled. Remember when Rapunzel wants to see the lanterns and go outside and mother gothel starts fear mongering her about how horrible, evil and dangerous the outside world is? Like yes, to a certain extent that is true and school obviously isn't ideal but neither is the neglect we faced and honestly I'd probably be a successful adult if it wasn't for this shit. I was scared shitless about school for years so when my dad threatened to put me in it I completely flipped out. And then when he put my three younger siblings into school I was furious with him because I had a certain image of what school was like. Imagine my surprise when I was proved wrong and once again my mother's lies were shown in the bright light. This is in no way excusing my father, he sucks. He's narcissistic as all hell and he was an abusive, controlling and emotionally neglectful father. Yes, I had two ends of a horrible spectrum for parents.
    
15. My sister, 16F wants to go to college because obviously she doesn't want become a failure like me. She is gonna get a job over the summer to pay for her tuition and my mom was furious at her for days because she was afraid that my sister wouldn't give her any money. Whenever my siblings even mention moving away my mom immediately pulls out the 'woe is me, I shall be all alone' act. Maybe if she wasn't so douchey to her kids she wouldn't be all alone.
    
16. A week ago, I dared to stand up to her and she started screaming about how I was a mistake, how she wished I was dead and how she hopes I will kill myself. And then she physically assaulted me and called me a coward when I avoided it. When I confronted her on what she had said she said that she hadn't said that and that I must be hallucinating.
    
17. She complains about how we never talk to her about our relationships but whenever we do she always finds a way to blame us. She also complains about how we have hardened over the years and how we aren't big in showing our emotions but whenever I am sensitive around her, she makes fun of me and shames me and is just as cold and hard as a diamond.
    

That isn't even all but I think I've put enough and I don't want this to get too long and bore y'all to tears. Lmk in the comments. Aita or is my mom really a narc?

Hey, folks! Chapter 6 is here! Sorry for such a long wait—I decided to go ahead and give myself some extra time to write and edit (and deal with irl shenanigans). This is my longest chapter yet—nearly 4.4k words! o_O
Anyway, thanks to u/CruisingNW for the title, and of course, thank you u/SpacePaladin15 for this wonderful universe! Well, without further adieu, let's get into it!
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Memory Transcription Subject: Meyra Yeirel, Spacecraft Engineer Apprentice
Location: Veyr, Veyrian Homeworld. Outer Orion Spur.
Date: September 11, 2182.
I pushed myself away from the table, staring at the unconscious Veyrian. In my hysteria, I hadn’t been able to process much aside from what she had said. But her golden eyes… there had been something wrong with them, but I hadn’t caught precisely what it was. I glanced around at the trio. I wasn’t an expert at reading predators’ expressions, but they were undeniably shocked. Galya as well. She sat frozen in her seat, her blue eyes staring into space. I couldn’t fathom why they were so shocked. Was it what I had told them? They should’ve known everything already. Did the Veyrian say something particularly important? If so, why was it so important?
The predators snapping into action derailed my train of thought, causing me to flinch. My heart seized up as I saw they were going for the Veyrian.
Oh, Myern, they’ve snapped, haven’t they? I thought frantically as they crouched next to the Veyrian. I closed my eyes and grimaced, preparing to hear the horrid sound of flesh ripping and the pain-filled screams of the Veyrian.
. . .
. . .
I opened my eyes. To my surprise, the predators had flipped over the Veyrian and were apparently checking if she was alive. I put my paw on my chest, trying to calm my breathing. At every turn, these predators subverted my expectations. Not killing me on sight—both last night and today, not killing me in my sleep, preventing the house from burning down, and remaining calm despite me apparently rocking their entire worldview. Next thing I knew the gray would tell me that it was a herbivore.
“Connor,” the gray growled, “help me out here.”
The ape moved to the other side of the Veyrian and helped the gray. They hauled the Veyrian to her feet and dragged her to the couch. I tried to catch a glimpse of her face, but I couldn’t see anything since her head hung low. They laid her on the couch. The gray tucked a pillow under her neck.
“Go get some water,” the gray commanded, swatting the primate’s arm. It obeyed, hurrying away to the kitchen. “Hey, Galya.” It snapped its claws. Galya flinched and looked at the gray. “Get some pillows.”
Galya put a paw to her head. “Y-yeah. Alright, then.” She stood and got the gray the pillows it wanted. She sat down as the gray tucked the pillows underneath the Veyrian’s legs.
“Thanks, by the way,” the gray added, glancing at Galya.
“You’re w-welcome.” The Venlil stared into space, obviously perturbed by something.
I couldn't believe the brainwashing on Venlil Prime was so overbearing that the Venlil were completely unaware of the galaxy around them. Same for the Terrans and the Arxur. I shuddered to imagine what sort of techniques their governments used to subjugate their populace.
The ape returned with a glass of water and handed it to the gray. The gray took it and stared down at the Veyrian, apparently watching for something. From my place at the table, I couldn’t the Veyrian’s face. The gray didn’t seem to be particularly disturbed by anything, so maybe I had just been imagining things. But… my mind still couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong.
I shook my head and gathered my nerves. “H-how did you learn to do all that?” I shuddered as the gray laid its eyes on me.
“My mom was a nurse,” it growled. “She taught me how to handle this sort of situation. In case of emergencies, you know?”
The ape made a strange, sharp chuffing as if something was caught in its throat. I stared at the ape, trying to guess what that sound meant. It was baring its teeth—was it angry? Did the gray say something wrong?
“Looks like it paid off, eh?” The primate swatted the gray’s shoulder. “You always complained about your mom lecturing you on how to perform CPR or how to do the Heimlich m—”
The Veyrian bolted upright, gasping for air. Everyone in the room flinched in unison. The gray acted immediately and handed the Veyrian the glass of water. She took it and began drinking with reckless abandon, spilling the majority of the water on herself. She breathed deeply and put her arm over her eyes. The ape sped away to the kitchen once more.
The thought of a gray possessing medical knowledge shocked me. They only knew how to maim, maul, and murder. They weeded out the weak, making no allowances for undesirables. No amount of UN and Dominion propaganda could change the fact that the gray were bloodthirsty monsters. And yet… here one was in my home. No one was dead. The walls weren’t painted red and orange with the blood of Veyrian and Venlil alike.
The primate returned once again and sat in front of the Veyrian. It gave the glass to her and leaned forward, steepling its long, gangly fingers in front of its face. It looked like it was struggling for words as the Veyrian drank—much slower this time. As the Veyrian finished, the ape lowered its paws.
“So, uh, how are you doing?”
Despite not understanding primate body language, I could tell it had just died inside.
“I mean uh… damnit.” The ape’s head hung low.
The Veyrian removed her arm from her face. “I have not… have not been d-doing well.” Her voice was raspy as if she hadn’t used it in a very long time.
“You uh, you don’t look the best either,” the ape commented. It gestured toward the Veyrian as a whole.
It was right. The Veyrian’s fur in the morning light looked even worse than it had the night before. The Veyrian coughed and turned her head to look around the room. That’s when I realized. I stared at her head, expecting to see her eye appear on the side of her head, yet it never came.
Not until she had turned to look
right
at
me.
I felt a bolt of terror through my chest. I staggered backward, knocking my chair down. A scream built in my throat as I stumbled and fell against the wall. They all stared at me, a mixture of shock and confusion scrawled across their faces.
But they were all a blur. Those two golden eyes stared right into my soul, delving into my psyche and shattering it.
I sunk to the floor, tucking my head between my legs. I hyperventilated, my heart racing. All outside sounds were faint. I barely registered them. Calm down, Meyra, it’s ok. You’re ok. I thought frantically. No, you’re not ok. You have several predators in your home, and she has something extremely wrong with her. They must’ve been torturing her. Changing her DNA. I should’ve snuck out in the middle of the night and run down to the exterminator’s office. Oh, Myern, I’m next aren’t I? I started rocking, unable to control myself. You’re fine, it’s fine, I’m fine. It’s all just a dream. It’s all just a dream. It’s all just a dream it’s all just a dream it’s all just a dreamit’salljustadre—
I flinched as a paw touched my shoulder. I looked up, shaking.
“H-hey, ma’am, are you alright?” Galya asked gently. “What’s wrong?”
I pointed at the twisted Veyrian and curled back into a ball. “Her—her eyes. Wh-what did you d-do to her?”
Galya’s ears drooped in confusion. “Her eyes? What’s wrong with—” she glanced at the Veyrian and back at me. She took a step backward, her eyes widening. “W-wait, what’s wrong with your eyes?”
“Galya, can’t you see that she’s pani—wait, what?” The primate growled inquisitively.
I took a glance around the room. Fear had dawned on their faces. They stood in a semi-circle, stuck in a state of tension. I couldn’t understand why.
But those eyes.
Those two golden eyes.
They stared at me, echoing the horrors of the cruelty of the UN and the Dominion. Myern knows how they had done it. And I was sure I was about to find out. To my horror, she stood slowly, baring her teeth as she went.
Oh, Myern, I thought helplessly. They’ve brainwashed her, too.
“I apologize for thy situation,” she rasped. The trio snapped to look at her, causing me to flinch. “I know… I know this must be quite a shock. To all of thee.”
I breathed shallowly, listening as she spoke. She had a strange accent, alongside her deeper, raspier voice. I had never heard her accent before. Despite my sheer terror, I was intrigued.
“I am Xertalis, goddess of time and space,” she proclaimed. “The former goddess, I should say.” Her head hung low as she stared at the ground.
The trio glanced at each other. The ape closed its eyes and waved its paws around. “Woah, woah woah—hold on. Let’s take this one step at a time. First off, what the ffffffuck? You’re saying all that back in the library really… really happened?”
Xertalis’ silence was enough of an answer for the primate.
“And so… and so all the stuff on TV is real?” It glanced at me. “And that I’m not imagining things?”
“You sure as hell aren’t imagining things,” the gray growled. “I’m seeing this shit.”
Their lack of disturbance surrounding Xertalis and her eye placement was almost more terrifying than the situation I was in. I mustered the courage to speak, despite the voices in my head screaming for me to shut up. “Wh-what the farrik is wrong with you?!” My voice faltered as three pairs of binocular eyes stared at me. “Why are you s-so concerned about my eyes? What about hers?” I waved an indignant paw at Xertalis.
“There’s nothing wrong with her eyes!” The gray roared, causing me to flinch. It put its claws on its head and paced back and forth. “This is fucking insane! What the fuck happened last night? Did our drinks get spiked? No, we didn’t bring drinks. Was it the snacks?” It sat down heavily on the couch, holding its head in its claws. Its knee bounced erratically as it sat.
Nothing the gray had said made sense to me. What drinks? What snacks? Did Galya feed them in the middle of the night?
Galya put her paws in front of her in a placating gesture. “Guys, let’s—let’s just eat some food, and then talk about this. I get that this is pretty insane, b-but yelling isn’t gonna get anything done.” Galya glanced at me. “Besides, I’m sure we’re all starving. Right?”
“Y-yeah,” the ape said. “Let’s do that. Maybe a hot bowl of oimal will help clear our minds.”
Galya put her paw on the gray’s shoulder. It looked up at her, its eyes glossy. “I’m sorry to interrupt you, Kiile. You’re the only one who knows how to cook, and well, you saw how well it went when Connor tried.” She bared her teeth. “How about it?”
The gray took a shuddering breath and bobbed its head. “A-alright. Okay.” It stood and closed its eyes for a moment, breathing deeply. “Let’s g-get this.” And with that, it headed towards the kitchen. As it left, it wiped its eyes.
I stared at Galya, completely floored. A gray. Crying. No, grays can’t cry. They don’t have emotions. They have two modes. Murder, and Stalking. They don’t feel panic or sadness or fear, I thought. But a small, creeping voice asked, Then what was that? I shook my head, trying to shake it off. That was fake. Manufactured. The apes must’ve been teaching the gray how to fake emotions. And yet, the voice persisted.
Galya didn’t notice me staring and instead walked up to Xertalis. Her snout scrunched up as she approached the filthy Veyrian, yet still attempted to speak to her.
“We uh, you should probably get showered,” Galya said. She stood as if she were uncomfortable.
Xertalis didn’t pick up on her discomfort. She flicked her ear inquisitively. “I know not what a… shower is. But I shall dine, for I am quite starved. My long slumber has taken all my energy.” As if to accentuate her plight, Xertalis swayed on her feet.
“Okay, then,” Galya muttered. “Um, well, let’s get you some clothes? Or a blanket at least?”
Xertalis tilted her head at Galya. “What are clothes?” She echoed my thoughts exactly.
“You know what? It’s fine. I’ll just go get a blanket.” Galya grabbed the primate’s paw. “Connor, c’mon.”
Xertalis sat down and watched as the two sped down the hallway. She looked around the room, her ear flicking as she laid her eyes on something new. She seemed particularly interested in the analog clock hanging on the wall. It wasn’t anything special. The numbers and the claws glowed faintly. The [seconds] claw ticked constantly. I swore I could almost hear it over the sound of the gray cooking in the kitchen.
The gray cooking in the kitchen, I thought, amused. I chuckled. The gray cooking in the kitchen. I let out a short laugh. The gray cooking in the kitchen! I started laughing uncontrollably. The absurdity of the whole situation finally got to me. I rocked back and forth, gesturing helplessly with my paws. At some point, my laughter turned to sobs. I put my head in my paws and cried, my tears running down my snout. The gray cooking in the kitchen. Oh, Myern, what am I going to do?
I looked up, and Xertalis was staring at me, perplexed. “What is thy sorrow? Why dost thou act in such a way?”
I gestured vaguely at everything in the room. “Wh-what can I say? I… I’m fucked! I have two p-predators—three predators—in m-my home, and I sure as Xyek c-can’t call the exterminators, otherwise I’ll b-be accused of harboring pr-predators!” I splayed my paws in front of me helplessly. “H-how in the ever living fuck did they g-get here?! The closest UN planet is-is-is—” I gesticulated wildly “—I d-don’t even know how far. Did they u-use FTL? But how did they g-get planetside?” I put my paws on my face and screamed. The sound came out muffled.
I looked up at Xertalis. I could barely hold her gaze, yet her eyes held undeniable sorrow and guilt… and an odd hint of fear. “I will explain,” she said quietly. “Everything. Just… wait.”
I put my paws on my chest and breathed deeply. I tried to calm my mind, yet it was near impossible. All these thoughts bouncing around in my brain like stray bullets. The voices telling me to run away screaming, and the voices telling me to stay and learn. Should I stay or should I go? Should I stay or should I go? Back and forth, back and forth! I wish I could make it stop. I wish I could just wake up, and wake up to a nice, hot bowl of oimal. I wish I wasn’t alone. I wish they were still here.
My thoughts were interrupted by Galya and the ape returning. The primate was carrying a blanket—one of the blankets from the guest room. It approached Xertalis and held it out.
“Sorry we took so long,” Galya apologized. “We sorta had to dig around for it, and we didn’t figure she’d like us going into her room.”
I cringed internally as Xertalis took the blanket and wrapped it around herself. That’s not going to wash out very well, is it?
“Thou are fine,” Xertalis said, taking the blanket. “I thank thou, for it is quite cold in here.”
The gray came around the countertop with a steaming pot in its claws. “You guys came back right in time,” it growled. It placed a pad on the table and set the pot on top of it. “I found some [brown sugar], thankfully, so it’s not gonna be too bland.” It hurried into the kitchen and returned with a bowl. “There were also some [apples], but there wasn’t any milk, so we’ll just have to do with water.”
The ape stopped Galya in her tracks. “You go and sit down, alright? I’ll help get the bowls and stuff.”
Galya stared at the primate for a moment. “Are you sure? This whole thing has been pretty stressful for you, I imagine.”
The ape made the same, strange chuffing noise. Except it somehow sounded… sadder? I tilted my head. “I’m fine. Just almost became a human flambe last night. At least the mattress downstairs was comfortable.” The primate glanced at me before moving into the kitchen.
Galya took a seat at the table. Xertalis sat across from her. “So you weren’t uncomfortable?” Galya asked.
I pushed myself up and leaned so I could see into the kitchen.
The primate shrugged and glanced at the gray. “Well, as comfortable as I could be while sharing a mattress with Godzilla over here.”
“Ha!” The gray barked, causing me to flinch. “That’s rich, coming from King Kong, Lord of Mattresses.”
My gaze bounced between the two nervously. Their words didn’t seem friendly. But… their tones. I didn’t know ape or gray social cues, but they almost sounded friendly. Yet another piece of a constantly shifting puzzle. Their moods seemed to have gotten better while I was having my breakdown, which struck me as oddly ironic. Slowly, I moved to the table and took a seat at the far end. The primate and the gray returned with bowls, spoons, and cups full of water, which were being transported on a tray.
I watched in surprise at how deftly the gray moved the cups to the table. I had only ever known gray to be clumsy and brutish. But there was almost an artistry to its movements.
“How did you do that?” I blurted. I cringed as everyone turned to look at me.
“Put the cups on the table?” It shrugged its shoulders. “I don’t know. Practice? I’m a waiter at the Toreros on main street.”
Toreros? That’s not a real restaurant, I thought, perplexed.
I watched as they passed the oimal around themselves. Galya, who was closest, pushed the pot and [apples] toward me. I sniffed it suspiciously. It didn’t smell any different, but I knew some drugs didn’t have a smell. But… I was hungry. Reluctantly, I served myself and pushed the pot away. Everyone began eating—aside from the gray. The fact that an ape was eating oats and fruit surprised me. I almost couldn’t believe it. And yet, there it was, right in front of me.
Xertalis scooped up some oimal daintily and blew steam off it. “I suppose I shall tell thou my story, and explain thy plight.”
The change of mood was palatable. The entire table stared at Xertalis, prepared for what she had to say.
“As I have said, I am Xertalis, the former goddess of time and space.” She raised her paw as the gray opened its mouth. “Many centuries ago, mortals believed in gods. They believed that they could bestow miracles, rend mountains and valleys to pieces, and offer enlightenment. Alas, those beliefs have faltered. That is why I am so weak.”
She took a slow sip of water.
“My powers have waned as mortals’ beliefs have waned.” She held an [apple] slice between her paws and turned it over. “I could not even age this fruit if I desired. If I tried to open a portal to your universe, it would kill me.”
The primate steepled its paws in front of it. “So how did we get here? Why did that book teleport us to… wherever the hell this is?”
Xertalis pondered the [apple] slice for a moment before popping it in her mouth. Once she had chewed, she spoke. “I would not rule out the fact there might be other forces at work. I might have been the goddess of time and space, but I am not the only deity with the ability to twist reality.”
The trio glanced at each other. “That’s not concerning at all,” The ape stated. “So… what do we do?”
“There is not much,” Xertalis said quietly.
“So we’re stuck here?” The primate cried. “Stuck in a universe where humans and gray are being genocided? Where the police shoot at innocent people? Where crazy bastards with flamethrowers run around?!”
“Wait,” Galya butted in, “what if we like, spread word of your existence?”
Xertalis stared at Galya. “And who would believe? Who would believe that a god walks amongst mortals?”
Galya tapped the table with her claw. “Uhhh… shit.”
“Well, there’s gotta be some sort of religious group somewhere, right?” The gray asked. “There’s the Church of Myern just down the street if I remember correctly.”
I flicked my ear affirmatively. “Yes, there’s a church. But… they might not be t-too fond of her eyes.” My voice faltered as they all looked at me. “Her eye placement? It’s abnormal.”
“So you’re telling me that normal Veyrians in this universe look like you?” The gray growled.
“Y-yes…?”
The gray rubbed its eyes. “Holy shit.” It held its claws up. “Look at this. I’m shaking.”
As the trio was processing what Xertalis had told them, she ate her oimal. Despite the fact she must’ve been starving, she ate slow and daintily, as if she had practiced eating in such a way for years and years. The fact she was eating calmed my nerves a little. But she’s a goddess—apparently—she might be immune to drugs. Or was she a goddess? Xertalis’ monologue confused me.
Nevertheless, I was hungry, and I didn’t function properly when I was hungry. I lifted a spoonful of oimal and ate it. The flavor caught me off guard. It was sweet and perfectly cooked; masterfully put together. I hadn’t ever expected oimal to taste as good as this. I found myself taking bite after bite.
The table was silent as everyone mulled over the information that Xertalis had disclosed. I glanced around the table. I felt a pang of bittersweet nostalgia as I watched the four of them eat. I physically recoiled in surprise. Galya glanced at me, perplexed, but I ignored her.
I turned over the feeling of nostalgia in my mind. It was strange. I shouldn’t be feeling this way about my literal enemies. And yet…
I looked at the wall opposite me. Among the paintings was a frame. And inside that frame, a family portrait. I stared at it for a long moment, emotions boiling in my chest.
You shouldn’t be feeling like this, Meyra, I thought half-heartedly. These are your enemies. They’d gladly rip you to shreds or stab you in the back if given a chance.
I glanced between the portrait and the small group at my table. It’s been so long… surely I could…? No. I took another bite of oimal, burning my mouth. I sipped my water quickly. No. That would be a death sentence. But the way Galya elbowed the gray and the primate playfully, and how they talked as if they were good friends…
Lost in my train of thought, I hadn’t noticed Xertalis had finished her food until she had stood up. “That was a most delicious meal,” she said. “I thank thee for thy culinary skills.” Xertalis bowed her head to the gray, who bowed its head in return.
“You’re welcome,” it growled. “It’s the least I could do.”
“I must now bathe myself. Where might your bathing room be?”
I pointed down the hallway. “Last door on the right. You can’t miss it.”
“Most appreciated.” And with that, Xertalis left the table.
I noticed the trio watching her as she left. I felt another pang of nostalgia in my chest. I immediately quelled it. Now wasn’t the time to be feeling sentimental.
The primate turned around. “She’s got an interesting way of talking, huh?”
The gray bobbed its head. “Yeah. But she’s a goddess apparently.” I tilted my head as I recognized the sound of skepticism in its grating voice.
Galya furrowed her brow and flicked her tail. Before she had a chance to speak, she was interrupted by Xertalis.
“I require assistance,” she said. “This bathing room lacks water.” She tilted her head slightly. “I know not how to draw it. Perhaps the girl could help me?”
Galya choked as she was taking a sip of water. Water dribbled down her chin. She recovered and turned to Xertalis, her cheeks tinted orange. “Uh—I’m sorry, b-but that’s like, not um… that—I don’t…”
Xertalis looked at the predators. “Perhaps one of the boys, then?”
I gawked as the primate’s face turned a bright shade of red. The gray’s face had grown noticeably darker as well. They glanced at each other and exchanged a silent conversation.
“Um, couldn’t—couldn’t she d-do it instead?” The primate pointed a long, gangly claw at me.
I stiffened. Me? I thought. “I-I can’t,” I blurted. “There’s, uh—I hurt my leg when I fell.”
“Your leg’s fine,” Galya said. She squinted at me. “It’s not really appropriate for kids to help an adult, anyway.”
“She just wants someone to help her figure out how the bath works!” I said indignantly. “That’s hardly inappropriate.”
“You’ll know how your bath works better than we do,” the ape interjected. “Besides, it is a little, uh, odd to make us do it.”
“But—” I began.
“I do not care who assists me,” Xertalis said in a low, steely voice. “Stop thy bickering and make thy choice.”
The trio stared at me. I stared back in disbelief. Did they want my heart to fail? Galya flicked her tail, indicating for me to hurry up. It was obvious that they weren’t going to move.
So it was all up to me.
I took a deep breath and clenched my paws. With great effort, I pushed myself away from the table. I tried to keep my breathing stable as I walked over to Xertalis. I avoided her eyes and motioned down the hallway.
“J-just this way,” I muttered. I glanced at the trio. Galya swished her tail supportively. The primate displayed its thumbs and bared its teeth. The gray whipped its tail across the floor erratically and flashed its razor-sharp fangs.
Suddenly dealing with Xertalis’ eyes didn’t seem like such a bad deal. Without another word, I speed-walked down the hallway.
Meyra, how in Xyek did you get yourself into this situation? I thought helplessly.
[Next]

Hello all, for the next about 7-8 days where I live is expecting a pretty big heat wave, with temps reaching up to 35 degrees celsius potentially. My apartment that I live in unfortunately lacks air conditioning, and I'm worried my cat is going to get too hot while I'm away at work. (I work Mon-Fri, 8-4).
I currently have 2 fans going all day, one small one directly on the floor so it can reach my cat, and a bigger one oscillating to keep the air moving in my apartment. I also bought a cooling pad for him, and I throw it in the fridge for about 30-45 minutes in the morning while I get ready for work, and take it out and place it down for him just before I leave and it usually stays pretty chilly for a few hours. I refresh the water in his fountain every morning so he has cold water throughout the day, and leave some ice cubes floating in the top so as they melt it keeps the water cooler for longer. I also leave the bathroom door open and shower curtain open because the ceramic bathtub generally stays cold to the touch and he can go lay down in the tub if his cooling pad isn't cold enough.
I'm still worried he's going to overheat, is there any tips and tricks y'all have on keeping pets cool for a while?

Hi everyone.
To Kill a Predator is a work of fan fiction set in the Nature of Predators universe originally created by SpacePaladin15 whose Patreon you should subscribe to.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. Depiction does not equal endorsement.
Hope you enjoy it!
[First] [Previous]
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Memory transcription subject: Martin Russo, Human Refugee
Date [standardized human time]: December 14th, 2136
​
The initial search through the offers is not going well.
“What about John Hopkins University?”
“Pre-approved for their internal loan program.”
“University of California Berkeley?”
“Pre-approved for their internal loan program.”
“Dartmouth?”
“It’s pronounced Dartmouth, and they’ll help talk to the bank to take out a loan.”
“Are there any universities in your entire tribe that don’t want us to take out huge expensive loans?!”
“No.”
With a frustrated yell, Vilek throws herself on a chair. Thiva sighs and crosses more names off the list.
I was expecting this. The US and its wretched predatory profit-based educational system is a non-starter. I am not saddling the lambchops with about a million dollars of debt. Each.
At least I’m unlikely to have to pay my own student loans back, what with my debt holder being a smoking crater.
“Hey, this is promising!” Thiva’s ears perk up. “I told Johan we were looking into education on Earth and he said he’d see if he could talk to some people at Lund University. They sent us an offer, check it out!”
“Lund University. That’s in Sweden…” I’m reading the letter rapidly on Thiva’s pad and getting more excited the more I read. “They’ve got both therapist and engineering courses. And they’re willing to transfer your credits and give you both full-ride scholarships, as long as you’re willing to start the term early and ‘establish a baseline of knowledge’. And they’ll split your classes into morning and evening so you don’t have to run double-claw studies like we usually do… And they’ll even have the UN pay for housing and transportation to Earth? Jesus Christ, that’s… really damn good.”
Vilek perks up too, both of them watching me closely now with wagging tails. “So what’s the catch?”
I read it again. Slowly and carefully. And I find myself faced with a bastard of a choice. “Well for a start… this says nothing about me.”
​
Vilek and Thiva are running the math. It’s not looking good. “What if we sell your house? That should give us plenty of money, right?”
“Vansi still owns it, even if she’s never setting foot there again. How about a loan?”
“Nah, that was the first thing I checked. Banks aren’t issuing loans right now. Even taking out any money is hard. With the economy in freefall they don’t want to encourage a bank run.”
I chime in unhelpfully. “And I don’t think they want to give out a loan for a one-way ticket someplace they can’t make us pay it back.”
Thiva pouts with frustration. “That too. Ughh, this was such a good opportunity, too!”
“It is. So maybe you girls should go anyway.”
Thiva’s eye locks onto me right away. “No.”
“I’m just saying-”
“No, I’m not leaving you alone here! I can just finish school here, and…”
“…and leave Vilek alone on Earth instead? No, you two should stay together. I can house-sit Thiva’s place and try to find a job. Maybe get enough money for you girls to head back during summer and winter breaks.”
“I told you it’s not my place, it’s Vansi’s.”
“And she’s welcome to it as soon as she gets out of jail.”
Vilek flicks her tail-tip with uncertainty, ears moving thoughtfully. “…Are you sure this is our best bet?”
“I’m pretty sure it is. And we don’t have a lot of time to look for alternatives. Says here you guys will be working with a pair of tutors to make sure your knowledge base is up to spec, and that’d start in just a few days.”
They’re my friends, and they have an amazing opportunity here. I have to be strong. It’s what’s best for them. It’s just a year or two.
It’s not like I’ve barely survived the last month and a half on this wretched rock.
​
Date [standardized human time]: December 15th, 2136
​
Today’s physical therapy session is in my room. If I were hoping that’d lead to less pain, I would’ve been wrong. “C’mon, keep pulling your leg back! That’s the way!”
My arch-nemesis is currently leaning on my leg and levering it back toward my torso with her entire weight, and is encouraging me to pull back with both arms too. I’m pulling like a beast, teeth gritted so hard I think they might crack. “don’t… fucking… say it…”
My vision is blacked out from the sheer goddamn agony, while Chasa cheerfully encourages me. “Gold star, Martin! Do it for the gold star!”
But it’s the only way I’ll be able to restore a normal range of motion without lopping my limbs off and going for prosthetics. “mother… fucking… hate you…”
Which I can’t afford. And besides, upper prosthetics are nowhere near as advanced as people think. “That’s the way! Alright you can let go now, you did an amazing job!”
I collapse back immediately and straighten my leg. Opening my eyes I can see white stars dancing in my vision. Chasa pads up the bed and licks her paw before stroking it through my hair, giving me another cowlick. “Good boy, I’m so proud of you!”
I am defeated. “…thanks.”
“Hey, uh, is this a bad time?”
I blink at the familiar voice and turn my head. Mosun’s standing there with a confident expression, and Jarkim is right beside him. They both look good, far better than me at least. Jarkim’s got bandages on his leg and Mosun’s got a clavicle brace, but they’re both mobile.
Chasa gingerly climbs down from the bed and moves over to my file. “Nope! We were just done for the paw, except I was gonna give Martin his gold star~! He loves the gold stars!”
“…I am going to eat you.”
Jarkim squawks with alarm at my threat to my Zurulian nemesis. She is undeterred and cheerfully says “No you’re not.”
Jarkim speaks up. “Aren’t you… concerned, about him using that sort of language?”
Chasa stretches idly before placing the shiny sticker on my file. I’ve still got one for every session. “Nah, he doesn’t mean it. Threats and cursing are proven to help human pain responses, that’s all! He’s a big softy; I’ve got him eating out of my paw.”
I try to sound disagreeing but it comes out as a rather pathetic whine. “…I’m an apex predator…”
​
“So you were both discharged?”
Mosun flicks his ear affirmative. “I was in for a paw longer than Jarkim was, but we’re out and healing now. It’ll be another thirty-ish paws before my collarbone’s fully fixed up, but I can return to daily life.”
That’s an insanely short time to recover from a shattered collarbone, but I suppose the medi-teddies are the leading health care providers in the galaxy for a reason.
I nod. “Well, that’s good. The rest of the posse doing okay?”
Jarkim moves a wing in the positive. “Hanya got in contact with that human you mentioned, doctor Eriksson. She seems positive about it. Slavik’s back on their farm.”
I nod. “So what are you guys gonna do? I, uhh, I don’t know what you do for work, Mosun, but I think Jarkim’s out of a job.”
Mosun grins, before getting a thoughtful look and tapping his leg a few times on the floor. “I drive around stocking vending machines, so nothing that matters. But I’ve been teaching Hanya a little, like she asked. And I think… I think I’d rather like to start a Dance school. So I’ll be saving up a bit and getting it set up while I heal.”
It’s clear he doesn’t mean ballet, but I make sure to censor myself around Chasa just in case her cheerful disposition toward humans doesn’t carry on to ‘primitives’. “I think that’s a fantastic idea. I know there are a ton of humans who’d be lining up for a chance to learn your culture’s Dances. Yotul too, obviously. And Hanya’s shown there’s interest from other sapients too…”
Jarkim clacks his beak twice before speaking. “I’ll go work on Slavik’s farm for a while to pay them back, and to stay airborne. But after that… I want to help people. And I’ve still got contacts. So I was thinking of setting up a sort of troubleshooting agency. People could come to me with problems, and I’d try to help them out.”
I laugh, but quickly reconsider as my body protests the action. It’s the most stereotypical ex-cop thing he could do! “You’re gonna become a freaking private eye?!”
Jarkim looks me dead-on and deadpan. “…What’s a private eye?”
​
Date [standardized human time]: December 19th, 2136
​
My fingers run through Vilek and Thivas’ fur slowly. I have been discharged from the hospital, but I’m still going to be in for physical therapy every other paw for the foreseeable future. Right now, though, I am relaxed. “How long, now?”
Vilek answers. “Half a claw.”
That’s not a lot of time, but I am determined to not ruin it with a foul mood. “Mm… You girls all packed?”
“There’s not a lot to pack. We’re getting most everything once we’re there.”
“Mm.”
Thiva’s currently quietly crying onto my shirt. “I’ll miss you.”
“I’ll miss you too, lambchop. But I’ll feel better with you two together, and doctor Eriksson is in Lund, so you can have in-person sessions.”
“And you’re sure you can’t come with?”
I shake my head. “Unless you got any new ideas. Besides, moving between human nations is a pain in the ass. I can’t get in as a refugee. Sweden’s been strict about refugees since before the Satellite War: I set foot on Venlil Prime first and VP’s been willing to house me, so that means according to Sweden and most other nations that I have to stay here until I can go back to the US.” Fucking ‘first safe harbor’ laws. “And since I’m a citizen of the United States of America I can’t move to Sweden on my own anyway. At least not without having a job or family or something there.”
Thiva looks up at me and says softly “…We’re family, right?”
Oh, wow, okay. I bite my lip for a second to keep from crying. It mostly works. “Yeah, of-of course we are. But that’s not how they see it. Don’t worry, we’ll try to figure something out. We just need to be patient.”
She gives a soft and sad sigh. I scratch behind her ears and look over at Vilek.
​
Vilek gives a soft beep and leans her head against my other hand. “Do you know a lot about the place?”
I shake my head. “Almost nothing. Lund’s a city in Sweden, and Lund University is around five hundred years old. Before going to Venlil Prime I had never left the US, which is almost as far from Sweden as you can go before you start getting closer again. But it was practically untouched by the extermination fleet, and the people are famous for being friendly.”
Even that much I had to search online to learn. The stereotype that Americans can’t tell Swedes from Swiss might not be true but it’s apparently not as far off as I thought.
“You’ll be studying one claw, then a break claw, then another claw of study, then you have three claws off. These six-claw periods are a day. You’ll study five days, then have two days to yourselves.”
Vilek whistles a soft laugh. “So there’s a lot of time to recover.”
“Remember, humans tend to sleep for eight hour stretches. So most people sleep eight hours, study or work eight hours, and have the remaining eight for transportation and personal stuff.”
“Hopefully that’s not going to be a problem…”
“I managed to adjust to VP’s time, I’m sure you’ll manage Earth’s. Worst case scenario, there’s coffee. Every student lives on coffee. And there’s soda, and potato chips, and curry. There are so many tasty things that you girls will adore trying on Earth.”
Thiva wags her tail softly, looking up at me. “You make us sound like gluttons.”
“No, I’m saying I miss those things because Venlil food sucks.”
Both girls play-push me and bleat with protest, making me laugh.
Mary mother of God I am going to miss them.
“Speaking of that, it smells like the food’s done.”
“Huh? I don’t smell anything?” Thiva gives me her most deadpan expression of confusion, and I roll my eyes at her and gently pinch the tip of her ear to pay back her jest. That elicits an adorable little squeak, and I smile while I get up and grab my crutch. I won’t be able to walk unaided for a long time, perhaps ever. I’m okay with that. I kinda want to have a walking stick anyway. A classy wooden one, like Tom’s.
Maybe I can be the first human with a walking stick made from Venlil wood?
​
I put out the spread. Cooking has been an extra pain in the ass with my injuries, but I’ll be damned if that’s going to stop me.
I present the plated-up meal on the table by the couch with a small flourish. “Here we go, girls. This is the meal I was going to make for you before things got… hectic. Tomato focaccia and pasta alla norma. And to drink, wine. That’s a fermented drink from the juice of grape berries. This particular wine is a variety called Nerello Mascalese, from my family’s ancestral home of Sicily.”
Vilek wags her tail as she leans forward. “This focaccia looks sort of like Strayu, but with a bunch of stuff on top?”
“It’s a sort of bread, almost all human cultures have some variation on bread. I’ve topped it with cherry tomato fruits, rosemary herbs, and kosher salt.”
The lambchops look at it with excitement, and Thiva’s the first to tear off a bit and place it on her outstretched tongue. She rolls it into her mouth and starts chewing, and her ears perk up and her tail wags at once. Her eyes half-close and she looks like she’s melting. “Ohhhh Protector… it’s so sweet, and salty, and juicy, and-and-and-”
Vilek excitedly tears off a piece for herself and plops it into her mouth. I’m rewarded for my hard work with an adorable squeal of joy from her, and she takes a second piece and shovels it into her mouth too. Only after swallowing does she focus an eye on me. “If I didn’t already want to mate with you beforehand, this ‘focaccia’ would’ve sealed the deal!”
I find myself blushing rather hard, and simply take a small bit of the bread for myself wordlessly. Thiva and Vilek both whistle a laugh.
​
After having thoroughly sampled the bread Thiva pokes at the pasta dish with a claw. “So what’s this other stuff? It looks utterly wild!”
I smile at the two, letting my explanation cool my jets a bit. “Pasta is made by combining a ground wheat powder with water, and then shaping the resulting dough and boiling it. Here I’ve combined it with a sauce made with tomato fruit and herbs, as well as a spongy and nutritious plant called eggplant. You guys don’t seem to mind bitter plants, so I figured it might be a good idea. Finally, it’s got a vegan ricotta made with almond nuts, lemon juice, and garlic powder… and basil, a wonderfully fresh leafy herb. This is a classic meal from Sicily, modified the tiniest bit for my herbivorous lambchops.”
The two take a pair of spoons and scoop up some of the mixture, making sure to get a bit of everything. They look at each other and, on an unspoken signal, put the food in their mouths.
They squeal and gasp. Vilek even squirms happily in her seat, while Thiva just wags her tail rapidly and moves her ears in slow little circle motions as she chews. Vilek’s the first to speak up. “…this is absolutely crazy, there are so many flavors… all at once! But I can taste each one…”
I pour some of the wine into their glasses, wincing a bit at having to awkwardly brace the heavy bottle in both hands.
I know the Venlil can hold their alcohol well enough to make the Irish blush, so I’m not concerned about that part. Having tried Venlil drink once, I am mostly curious as to if the lambchops will be able to appreciate the complexity of something that doesn’t taste like everclear and paint thinners.
As they take small sips, I needn’t have worried. Thiva in particular bleeps with joy and perks her ears. “Oohh… that’s rich! There’s sweetness, and acidity, and a sort of dried herb taste underneath it all?”
Vilek adds her own opinion, but is slower with it. “There’s a sort of earthiness… and I can taste it a little differently just by holding my mouth near the glass… that’s wild. It goes really, really well with the food too…!”
I laugh quietly. “Heh… I’m glad you girls enjoy it. Just make sure to leave some room for dessert. There will be chocolate cake.”
Thiva tilts her head. “You humans have meals for after your meals?”
“Only for special occasions. Don’t worry, you’ll love it.”
​
“It looks like dirt.”
“Wet dirt.”
I wait patiently with a small smile. They load their spoons with some of the moist, spongy chocolate cake and the rich frosting that I’ve so lovingly slaved over. And into their mouths it goes. I wait for the reaction.
It does not disappoint.
“MMHH!!!” “MMFF-MFFH!!”
They immediately start devouring their dessert, while I grin. “Well girls, If you don’t want the ‘dirt’ I’ll be glad to take it off your paws.”
They quickly protest. “Don’t you dare!” “Yeah, we’re keeping the whole thing! This stuff is better than mating!” “How would you know? You’ve never even done it!” “Yeah okay, but am I wrong?” “…I didn’t say that!”
Laughter and whistling fills the room. As far as last meals together goes, this one is going about as well as I could’ve hoped.
​
We’re standing outside. We’re beside the politely impatient cab driver that’ll take the girls the first leg of their journey to the space port and on to Earth. Thiva’s crying again and clinging to me. It hurts, but I grin and bear it.
Vilek smiles, the human expression looking a bit foreign on her face. “…You promise you’ll be okay? I… I need to hear you say it.”
Thiva flicks her ear and tail. “Yeah. W-We can still change our minds, if… If you need us.”
I have no goddamn idea what I am going to do after you girls step into that cab.
I smile at my beloved lambchops, give them a warm hug, a pair of quick kisses on their cheeks.
And I lie to their faces.
“Don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine without you.”
---
This is the penultimate chapter of this story. Thank you for reading so far!
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A lone songbird comes to rest atop a crumbling, ruined wall of granite and blood-mossed shale, where dawn's fresh dew enchants the rising sun. This mile-long stack of stone most ancient, most holy, shall soon sing with every honour 'pon this annual feast of fury. Listen well, now, o'er from low-slung hill to meagre field beyond most unassuming, as the distant thunder of weathered war-drums escorts its peasant legions proud. To the chime of pike and mace, of mail and plate, two armies now ascend, awash with eager incantations whose well-spring spoils most nobly. For to Kærwynn they have come, to the Wall of Empires fallen. For sport and skirmish, to honour and afoul, to fill the summer sky with burnished standards bold and shimmering. To sing again that fiery, transcendent song of flailing fist and elbow, where spill and shear their blood and flesh 'pon this most merry, handsome day! Come, friends, come enthralled! For the time of our Field & Feast has come! For glory, then, to Kærwynn, called! Onwards, Onwards, Onwards, All!
​

What is Kærwynn?

The site of an ancient, barely remembered siege, where once stood a Hill-Top Fort. All that remains now is a vague stone wall, cutting through the centre of a wide, grassy plateau. Every year, two towns send forth a peasant rabble to partake in a sporting tournament of indiscriminate chaos, violence and brutality. The rules - though often wildly flouted and prone to spur many a disagreement - are fairly simple. The two opposing Village "armies" attempt to hold, and carry, a nettle-stuffed goat-bladder - coated in grease and set alight - back and forth across the remains of Kaerwynn's crumbling wall. Weapons are strictly prohibited, as is the use of magic. Should the ball be at any point transported across this bygone bloodstone stack, a point is scored, signalled to the crowds by a screaming arrow loosed above Kærwynn. None in living memory have heard this sound. The contest begins just as the sun is most high, and the first star seen near sunlight's fall brings the game to its end. The feasting, music, and merrymaking continues for many days thereafter.
​

Sights, Sounds, & Smells

Use this section as a quick reference during play, or at the start of a Session to refresh your GM senses! Sights
- Huge roaming crowds of bawdy, bruised, drunken, brash, jolly folk of all manner & persuasion. - Horses and oxen, Barrows and carts, bundled and stacked with produce and wares for sale. - Fires, encampments, tents & bivouacs. - A great and misty field upon a downland plateau.
Sounds - Cheers, whoops, hollers, yawls, screams, & songs. - The thundering of many hundreds of pairs of booted feet upon turf and crumbling wall. - The jig of fiddles, lyres, banjos, dulcimers, & drums. - Peddler yells & calls as the many merchants and stall-holders hawk their produce.
Smells - Bonfires. - Mead, Ale, Wine & all manner of distilled spirits. - Sweat, urine, vomit, faeces, dung, blood. - Roasting meats, stews, soups, pies, etc, etc.

Local Economy

The grand contest's festivities are rich with attendant trade, and the sheer enormity of the gathering offers a banquet of financial opportunity. A sizeable portion of coin is passed back and forth among the many gamblers and their ilk. Fortunes are said to have been made at Kærwynn, betting on everything to knock-outs to teeth declared. Merchants grand and small use the Feast as a time not only to sell, but to make alliances, forge partnerships, sign contracts, and host grand spectacles to show off their wealth. All is abuzz with capital - from the meagrest, dirt stained copper purchasing sweet hot-loaves, to the coin-purses stuffed with precious jewels thrown to the swivel-headed bookmakers.

Imports

Aside from the large number of onlookers, participants and their parties, the Feast of Kaerwynn brings all manner of trades-folk and wily entrepreneurs. Cooks, ale-makers, luck-charmers, souvenir-hawkers, armourers, blacksmiths, clerics, herbalists, and more, arrive with barrows teetering and tents stuffed to bursting with varied wares and services. For many come to gawp and cheer, to behold the chaos and rejoice in the keeping (and settling) of many a-score. Among the crowds, too, are those who attend to cherry-pick the best fighters, those of brawn and brain, to offer to them expedition and adventure of a far more dangerous kind.

Exports

Legends! Tales! Stories for the fireplace and the ale-house! Far and wide do such things go, to the horror of some, and the pride of many more! Champions, too, go forth into the world, and it is enough to bend the ear of many a tavern-goer should a Kærwynnian sup of an ale 'pon a nearby stool.

Lodgings & Shelter

The fields about Kaerwynn become something of a makeshift village during the Feast, and lodging may be found beneath any number of comfortable canvases here and there, if one is willing to part with a sizeable weight of coin. The Traveller would be wiser to bring a tent or bed-roll of their own, and to arrive early to secure a good pitch. In truth, not a great deal of sleep is to be had, as the festivities roll far either side of the Feast Day, with naught much to discern day from night beside moon and sun.

Hierarchy & Political Structure

At dusk upon the eve of each Feast, each "army" elects a Kærwynn "King" or "Queen"; tradition dictates this be a child, crowned with what remains of the charred, nettle-stuffed goat's bladder of the previous year's contest. Throughout the day, they are seated on a high platform so that they might view the entire field of play, and enjoy tribute and honours from all around. Most years, this King or Queen is the orphaned child of a parent lost the previous year; for though Kaerwynn be a sporting feast, it feeds 'pon broken bones and blood and bile and - often - lives. Second to this "royal" figurehead are the many Captains; veterans, all, of the Feast of Kaerwynn, and fierce in the discharge of their duties. Some are drunkards delighting in the occasion, some barbarians who come for glory, some shrewd tacticians keen to turn the screw upon their opponents, or to weaken them far beyond the fields of this noble Hill. A clutch of Elders adjudicate general infractions, dispensing any rulings as necessary. These are wizened old-hands of the Feast, though frequently taken more by plum-wine, gambling and cavorting than by their duties to the Field of Play. The Elders are also charged with official scoring, although none have managed a point in recent memory. Despite random (and frequent) acts of petty crime, there is no law in attendance; no constable, nor guard, nor sheriff wanders Kærwynn.

Culture

Kærwynn's origins being lost to time, it is known now only for its festivities. Many see opportunities to settle debts or quash grudges, others a chance to gain notoriety and renown, or to profit handsomely in coin. Despite arriving with all manner of edged and mêlée weapons, participants are forbidden from using such tools of war during the Feast. It is to be remembered that the use of weapons and magic is strictly prohibited upon the Field. Various articles are smuggled into play, however; knuckle-dusters and various steel and iron toe accoutrements being highly favoured, along with hempen hand-wraps dipped in honey, broken glass, and thistle-thorns. Bucklers (smuggled onto the Field as belt and boot buckles) are also popular choice, their use being two-fold; defensive and offensive. Many a bard's tale mentions the spirit of ingenuity alive at Kærwynn! One such tale is of a farmer being removed from the field for employing a stout and heavy cast iron frying pan pilfered from a canteen. Another story tells of a villager clothing a wild black-bear in the garb of a human, and setting it loose upon the field. Rare are they who enter play seeking to murder, and an unruly equilibrium tempers the chaos, ensuring the brutality teeters at the edge of death's grip. That mighty end being everywhere, however, it makes no exceptions for Kærwynn; injuries abound, much blood is spilled, and it is not unusual for a handful of people to lose their lives variously to unforeseen accidents and innocent incidents each year somewhere upon the Field. Indeed, this is where many even dream of meeting their end.
​

Residents of Note:

ancestries have not been allocated, allowing the GM to assign as appropriate.
​

Kesh Fallewarr - Village Captain

Long, silver hair pinned tidily up; Dressed in stained, rough grey flannel, with a large, billowing black neck-scarf tied about the collar of a coarse blouse. Their hands are greasy and darkly stained from polishing armour. They smoke a curved yellow clay-pipe, and speak calmly, flatly, employing the most foul language as though it were seasoning the air.
​

Toradim Hallowmeer - Village Captain

A shaved head that shows many scars, and a single eye-glass through which they squint up at the sky, as though forever expecting rain. They speak several languages fluently, and are keen to engage any in their native tongue. From time to time they might be spied smearing mud from the ground across their leather armour, and muttering to themselves; whether prayers or curses, who could say?
​

Puk Snursbok - Elder

Dressed in black buttoned, woollen shirt rolled to the elbows, brown woollen trousers, and oversized boots without laces. Their black hair, smartly slicked with short back and sides, glistens above their bright blue skin. Always rolling three small black pebbles about in their hand which, from time to time, are shaken and slammed down upon the nearest surface. Delighted or disappointed at the result, their purpose remains unclear. They seem to know much about a great many people, and they enjoy the whispering and hoarding of secrets.
​

Shesd Arweka - Elder

Dressed in old leathers and worn chain-mail, they sit upon a goat-skin stool, chewing on a long-stemmed root, and squinting out at all before them. They're known for liberally yelling foul curses and proclamations at attendants, and for throwing generous gifts of unusual coin to those who fight well or tell a good joke as they pass. Over the years, they have come to believe that folk generally keep their distance out of some great respect, but - in truth - t’is their utterly foul body odours, along with the increasingly wild rumours of their involvement in the brutal slaying of a party of several Feast-goers during the previous year’s contest.
​

Skrouch Affaladeer

An affable, and popular, wandering seller of baked potatoes. Skrouch moves with a heavy limp, and is almost impossibly broad, and tall. Their wheezy, guttural laugh is heard long before they're seen, their fire-blackened hands endlessly greeting and bidding fondness and farewells to their many customers. They are accompanied, as they go, by a small horde of children, each adept in juggling and tomfoolery.
​

Pishon Poewalder

A scruffy, rake-thin pick-pocket and ne'er-do-well on the look out for whatever slim opportunities fall before them. They seem never to sleep, eat, nor drink, and are alert to a great many things. They are accompanied by a blind squirrel, and the pair whisper back and forth all manner of sour curses and spit-speckled oaths.
​
​

Some Adventure Hook Ideas

This list is by no means exhaustive, and is intended simply to stir the pot of your own imagination. Use what follows as starting-points, or ignore them entirely in favour of your own Adventure Hooks! 1 - a detestable Mage has poisoned the waters of the nearby streams with a curse that will place all under their control; in essence : instant army, just add water. 2 - the spirits of the Dead of the ancient battle of Kærwynn, having had their fill of this yearly cacophony, and finding their memory thoroughly bespoiled, rise up to smite these ungodly invaders! 3 - One of the Residents of Note has been murdered, seemingly for several hours before being discovered. Their large hoard of coin is untouched. 4 - a Noble family’s heiheiress has snuck to Kærwynn, seeking adventure and glory! The Party have been hired to find, and return them home. 5 - one of the Party has familial ties to one of the Peasant Armies, and are called upon to fulfil their duties via participation. 6 - the Party have been hired to protect a vast prize of Coin being offered - for the very first time - to the victors of this year's Feast! Every corner of the field is abuzz with rumours of it, and the threat of thievery pervades.
​

Random Kærwynn Encounters

Roll 1d8 for a Kærwynnian Encounter! 1 - An explosion rings out, blasting a crater into the field of play, sending participants flying in all directions. 2 - A herd of rampaging creatures enters the field. 3 - All around, Villagers are doubled over, vomiting a vile and acrid liquid. 4 - A “potion” seller sets up shop selling flavoured waters, convincing people it’ll enhance their physical prowess during the Contest. 5 - A farmer hands out heavy, fist-sized bags of seed, encouraging folk to use them as weapons. Unbeknownst to all, the seeds are under an enchantment, and will sprout as soon as they hit the dirt. 6 - Several Villagers with sleeply-poison tipped blades secreted in the tip of their boot are causing a sharp and chaotic havoc in sections of the onlooking crowd. 7 - A mysterious shower consisting of marbles and ball bearings rains down from above; none seem sure of their origin or cause. 8 - A Dragon makes itself known upon the Field, demanding an end to this noisily unruly Festival once and for all.
​

Kærwynnian Foods Roll-Table

Roll 1d10 for a tasty Kærwynn Snack 1 - Kings/Queens Fingers - a spiced parsnip on a stick, surrounded by a cake like substance, and dipped into a strawberry jam. Created in homage to the Kærwynn King & Queen, and one of the Feast’s oldest known attendant traditions. 2 - Liver & Radishes - a coarse, pale stew seasoned with peppery shredded radish, served with stale bread and apple sauce. 3 - Stuffed Pine Mushrooms - large, easy to find mushrooms that have been stuffed with hard cheese that has been melted to be softer, along with some small roasted pine nuts. 4 - Grey Light Garnish - a salad-like meal consisting of a local grey moss that glows dimly with an ingredient rumoured to enhance one’s strength; widely believed but never proved. 5 - Chug-Knuckles - small hazel-type nuts; boiled, smashed, spiced, and served in small deep-fried balls. Wonderful projectiles once cooled and hardened, but also excellent with rice and chilli jam. 6 - Posst - a wooden skewer onto which various vegetables chunks have been strung, before the entire thing is dripped in pigeon fat and roasted over an open fire. (Albyon’s note : the name of this simple culinary pleasure derives from the noise the dripping bird fat makes upon the flames of an open campfire) 7 - Pickled Toad Spawn - something of an acquired taste, and mostly enjoyed by the inebriated, this unusual delicacy clears the sinuses and invigorates the lungs. 8 - Squab Pie - small, yet hearty, pies seen as something of a delicacy. The outside edge of the pastry is decorated with the marks of rooks' feet. 9 - Collops - slices of steamed meat served with boiled eggs, all wrapped up in a sweet, caraway seeded flatbread. 10 - Crab-Apple Toffees - a sweet and simple pleasure enjoyed by all ages that forever pins their memory to Kærwynn.
​

Trinket Roll-Table

Roll 1d20 for a Kærwynn Trinket! 1 - A child's rib wrapped in red-woollen thread. 2 - A rusted prick spur decorated with the letters R.H. 3 - A crimson velvet covered brigandine, partially set ablaze and abandoned. 4 - A short-sword’s pommel decorated with a family coat of arms in faded enamel. 5 - a pouch of teeth, and teeth fragments, collected by children post battle, often sold to spell slingers. 6 - Woollen finger puppets of various heroic competitors of the past. 7 - Fox-fur mittens, stuffed and padded at the knuckles. 8 - A wooden club studded with beaver teeth. 9 - A pocket-sized handbook detailing impact and injury points. 10 - A sackful of stones, each one painted to look like a chunk of bread. 11 - Arrow heads dipped in tar-like poisons. 12 - A silken neckerchief that seems to weigh nothing at all, yet is heavy with the scent of honeysuckle. 13 - A small sacking-cloth pouch full of Wheatear beaks. 14 - A live Hare, tied up in a sack filled with the mist of some unknown spell(s). 15 - A large Haddock, and as though freshly plucked from the sea only moments ago. 16 - A small sack of potatoes that seem to explode into variously coloured powders when thrown. 17 - A pair of dark metal eye-goggles, the lenses of which appear to reveal metal objects upon any person. 18 - A large wheel of cheese that rolls along behind its owner. 19 - A wooden bucket full of a thick, flammable paste. 20 - A pale silver arrow sporting a rather finely carved whistling-tip.
​

Albyon’s Final Notes for the GM ~

pull apart this location so fantastically strange, toss aside all that irks to better rearrange the unspooling of inspirations, the pearls of this trade, to stitch anew an Adventure, a Quest freshly made, t’wards a tale of your party's own Kærwynn!
​
For the best experience deploying our strange & fantastical locations in your game, we highly recommend utilising our free wondrous website, with its easy-to-use drop down menus, and simple navigational aids to steer you towards spectacular adventures!
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Imbruustafal (a shattered sky-scrapingtower of monsters and mayhem)
Jaittura (a trading post inside the hollowed eye-socket of a wandering titan)
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Sternwater (a were-rat infested village of muck and mire)
Tuulinen (a wind battered plain of death and spirits sat above an abandoned salt-mine)
Uurastalt (a demonic wasteland of obsidian fire)
Vosgadh (a desert trading post locked within a deadly sandstorm)

Previous
Captain Vohr’Doe was waiting in the hangar as Kahv’Hosh set the shuttle down, a slew of emotions raging inside her, all vying to be the leading sentiment. Though, she - of course - would probably have to lean more towards 'gratitude’, if made to pick a single one. She was more than grateful that her crew were no longer in danger - and yes, that even included him - and that those pirates were no longer a threat to anyone else, either.
And then there was the obvious awe at the humans had weaponized gravity; she had heard the horror stories of what could happen if a gravity plate malfunctioned - she had to have electrical replace the ones in the gym just a few days ago, as Kyle had pushed them up to 15G in his training - but to actually use it as a weapon?...
And, of course, there was an overwhelming amount of anger. Well, maybe not anger, per se; but there wasn’t really a word for the feeling between extreme frustration, and anger. What kept her from completely registering it as anger was her wholehearted belief that he had good intentions for having something so destructive on board her ship. But that only just tempered the vexation she felt at him having smuggled a gravity bomb onto her ship! Not only that, but there were two crates that had been marked as ‘gravity generators’, which she had initially assumed were for his comfort, to put his room - or possibly his campsite - to a more comfortable gravity. But she could see now how very wrong she was.
As the door to the shuttle opened, she watched first Admiral Shane, then Kahv’Hosh exit the craft. Kyle exited after a delay of a few seconds, and after sweeping the hangar with his gaze, he lowered it when it met her’s, looking for all intents like her nephew when he gets caught doing something he shouldn’t, and - not for the first time - an almost motherly feeling came over her. Which wasn’t so far out of the question, seeing as - according to the data provided on them - humans were by far the shortest-lived people in Galactic Records, where the shortest-lived species after them - the rahv’oyeck - averaged around 500 years, give or take a few decades.
Not to mention the fact that - for however short a time, he was a part of her crew, and as such, she instinctively felt protective of him, the fact that - as his captain - she was responsible for him notwithstanding. Plus, he really did seem to be almost ‘childlike’ at times, with a simple - almost naive - attitude towards the goings on around him. Not that he was clueless when it came to interacting with others; as many of the crew had come to find out, apparently.
But it was his obvious contrition that tempered her attitude, so that when they had made their way over to her, it had simmered down to intense irritation. Once they were standing before her, Kyle finally looked up to meet her gaze, and she felt her heart soften further at the expression on his face; not that she would let him know that, of course.
“Would you care to explain yourself, Mr. Redding?” she asked, being sure to keep the edge to her voice; she couldn't be seen as ‘soft’.
“I didn't know that they were sending it,” he began quickly, ”I only found out about it after I got to my equipment room, the first time.”
“Them,” she replied, and at his confused look, continued,
“Them; plural: there were two crates listed under ‘gravity generators’, and they were both the same size. I don't believe that the other one actually contains gravity plates stacked up; not this time.”
Kyle gave a look of understanding, and she believed that he really did momentarily forget about the other one.
“Right,” he said, “Two. Yeah, I didn't know they were gonna send them…”
“And afterward, it never occurred to you to tell me that you had two bombs on board that could make this entire ship - and everyone on board - become one dense atom?!” A little more edge crept into her voice than she would have liked at that moment. It was Admiral Shane, however, who answered; taking a step forward, he cleared his throat.
“Captain, if I may?...” It was the respect - the deference - in his voice that gave her pause, and helped to calm her thoughts a bit. She nodded in affirmation, and he continued,
“What would happen to us - in the immediate sense - if this ship were to lose all power right now; primary, and emergency backup power?”
The question seemed so random, that her mind basically blanked out, and she found herself saying the first thing that came to her mind.
“We would all begin floating, seeing as the artificial gravity would be out, as well.”
“Precisely,” he continued, “And short of directly supplying power to the artificial gravity, how could we get the plates to work?”
She began to understand his point.
“I see where this is going, Admiral, but unless I’m very much mistaken, there were no ports on that box that would accept any power crystals with the required energy to fuel that miniature black hole. Which means that it had power the whole time.”
“That's true,” he said in a mollifying tone, “But the power to the core was disconnected, and needed a code that would cause even an A.I. trouble hacking it, as it's a 300,000-page code, randomly coded in every written language known to humankind. There are even symbols in the code that don't show up on the screen, if someone were to try to hack it manually; an A.I. is needed to even crack the code within a year. And only Kay’Eighty has the codes for those two programmed into her memory.
“So,” he concluded, “While I agree entirely with you that he should have let you know about them, I can give you my word - on behalf of the honor of all humans - that no amount of damage could cause an accidental activation. While I won't say that the other one is harmless, I can assure you that there is no chance of it going off by accident. However, I won’t hesitate to take it off of your ship, if you so desire.”
She took a moment to digest everything that Admiral Shane said, and eventually came to a conclusion.
“No, I’ll allow him to keep it on the ship; I would say that there's likely never going to be a reason that we would need it, but I would have said the same thing this morning, and we can all see how wrong that was.”
“If you like,” Kyle offered, “We could attach it to like, a missile, or something, and Kay’Eighty could give you a data chip with the code for it.”
She thought for a few seconds, then nodded.
“That sounds acceptable; but what if we need it detached?”
“She can attach it to the outside on a molecular level with her nanobots, and detach it the same way.”
She nodded her head, and then sighed.
“Well, I won't pretend that I’m not happy about the way this all played out; still, I’m just glad their cargo holds and brigs showed no signs of life. At least we didn't send any innocents to their doom with that ploy. You could have at least told me what it was when I asked you why you needed the scan of the pirate ships in the first place.”
“Yeah,” he replied in that casual tone of voice that she would tolerate from few others, further enforcing that matronly feeling over him, “But we didn't have time for you to be pissed off at me, then… But - for the record - I am sorry for not telling you; I should have let you know a lot sooner.”
She gave him the sternest look she could muster in that moment, and replied,
“I’ll accept your apology if - and only if - you let me examine this fruit tree of yours.”
Kyle's face brightened, and a wide smile appeared as he said,
“Of course; you could've come seen it any time.”
She smiled at him, and turned to leave, passing Kah’Ri, who had held back - as per her request - while she talked to Kyle about the heavy ordnance he had on her ship. She heard the impact of the two, and the sound of them kissing, that was immediately mixed with the sound of hurried footsteps as Kahv’Hosh and Admiral Shane gave the two their privacy.
The meeting with the Council went smoother than she could have expected, with them simply stating that - as a interstellar ambassador - Kyle was authorized for a higher level of weaponry utilized in his protection, and as his current ship of transport, the Golden Egg had the authorization to use such weapons, if need be. They did - however - require any and all recordings of the interaction to be sent to the Council, for analysis of their capabilities.
There was also the matter of Grol’Rosh, the suul’mahr representative who had watched the probe’s descent into the dark of the planet below. The doctors felt that it was best to keep him in a medically induced coma, as when he was conscious - and heavily restrained - he was moaning and whimpering, rambling incoherently about the ‘darkness that sees, hiding the sea of flesh’, of ‘clawed feet on chitinous arms, too-long hands reaching from fanged tentacles’; and the sound, which he mentioned as the ‘screams of the damned from so many mouths, they know all, 'THEY ARE THE HOLES LIKE EYES!!!’
She noted the looks that ranged form disquiet, to disgust, but it was between the humans that she saw a look of understanding horror pass.
“But…” Kyle began weakly, looking at Admiral Shane, “That was just a movie. Wha-…?”
“Well,” the Admiral replied in a slightly dazed voice, “I think it’s safe to say that blowing the planet up is out of the question.”
“Or what?” Kyle began in amused incredulity, “A piece of it’s gonna hit a wormhole, and go back in time to Alaska sometime before the 1980’s?” The laugh he ended this with was close to hysterical, to which the Admiral shrugged.
“At this point, I wouldn’t rule anything out. However, the more likely scenario would be that it lands on a different planet, wreaksand havoc from there. Even worse would be for it to hit a previously uncontacted, sapient species’ home world. The results of a single cell of this… thing’s biomass were to make it to a planet with living creatures on it would be beyond catastrophic. There’s no amount of destruction - short of throwing it into a star, or a black hole - that I would trust the safety of the galaxy to, when it comes to the lifeform that calls this planet its home.”
Chairwoman Hahss’Chom spoke up at this.
“While I obviously have no knowledge of this movie the two of you reference, I must say that your assessments of this seem to be at least plausible. I don’t know so much about the time travel aspect, but it would seem that this would be the best summary of the events, here. It would appear that a sapient race evolved on this planet, and that their Gift was that of assimilation. At some point, it would seem they began assimilating each other, until they reached a critical mass, and ‘they’ became ‘it’. And from Grol’Rosh’s description, it doesn’t sound as if this is a pleasant experience for whatever they… it has become. I believe that it is not only a matter of protection for the wider galaxy - universe, even - but also as an act of mercy that we should put this… thing out of its misery.” There was a general murmur of agreement around the council chambers as no one seemed to want to disagree with that sentiment.
They moved the Golden Egg to the other side of the system from the planet, keeping the sun between it and them. Upon hearing about the ‘darkness that sees’, Kyle had exclaimed that that was what had bothered him so much about the planet; the darkness was watching them. They didn’t want to find out if the life form on the planet may be able to ‘stack’ itself ‘up’, away from the planet, and reach out to the ship were they to get over the dark side, but at the same time, no one wanted to be under the gaze of such a massive predator.
They were parked in that system for almost an entire Standard week, though, it should have been longer; however, with their A.I. able to make the calculations for them, they were able to drop further into subspace, where not only do the ‘shadows’ become larger - therefore reducing the ‘space’ needed to travel - but the speed of your craft rose exponentially, so it was extremely easy to overshoot one’s target, going a ‘shorter’ distance at a greatly multiplied speed.
The moon/ship was amazing to behold. It had - originally - had an outer layer of ice, with an inner ocean, and a deeper ice layer, followed by a rocky mantle, and heavy iron core. The humans - but really, the A.I. - had mined out the iron core, and used it in building the outer shell of the craft. The water was harvested - according to their records - and support columns on the inside were used to maintain integrity of the craft. It now appeared for all intents and purposes as a giant metal moon, with engines on one end, and millions of lights that dotted its surface, obviously viewports. A close-up scan showed that it was blanketed in guns, but those were obviously only big enough to serve as defense; it was apparent that this ship wasn’t built as a gunner.
Once it had come into the system - keeping out of ‘view’ from its dark side - they enveloped the planet with the craft’s tractor beam, the space around the planet lighting up to an almost gray aura, as the beam took hold. Once they had reported a full grip of the planet, the Europa Contingency dropped back into subspace, the planet ‘disappearing’ with them, only to ‘reappear’ around an hour later, the ship’s massive engines working more efficiently in subspace to move the much larger planet. Once they reappeared, the light around the planet went out as the Europa Contingency released it from the tractor beam, dropping back into subspace for an easier retreat from the sun.
No one wanted to go to look at what was happening to the planet, which would entail either getting into its range of ‘vision’, and also the possibility of seeing whatever it was that drove the suul’mahr representative insane. Readings showed the loss of mass, as the planet was burnt up in the corona of the star, and everyone watched on as the sun continued to consume its wayward planet. With the planet also having been thrown - not simply having 'fallen' - into the sun, it wasn’t long before it had been fully encased in the cleansing fires of the star.
She was also relieved to see that the humans had appropriately somber expressions, obviously taking no joy in the destruction - the mass loss of… ‘life’ - that they were responsible for. They watched the reading coming in with the seriousness of attending a loved one’s funeral, and never spoke a word, not in praise, or even the acknowledgement of what was happening. She was glad to see that they weren’t entirely aggressive, that while they had the capacity to not only think of these types of weapons, but to also create them, that they weren’t the type of people who would use them so willingly. She could see in their faces the regret they had in destroying this planet, even as it was done to save countless others; for someone would eventually break quarantine, either to try to exploit the resources ‘available’, or to use the ‘lifeform’ on the planet for their own twisted ploys. And so this was a necessary evil; though they were empathetic enough to realize it for the evil that it was.
After they had witnessed the destruction of the planet, the Admirals insisted on escorting the Golden Egg to Captala’Ellats, the space station that was the next stop on their itinerary. Not having any reason to refuse a military escort, Captain Vohr’Doe graciously accepted, and they were soon on their way; this had certainly earned a bit of a reprieve for her crew, and she wouldn’t say no to a bit of shore leave, herself.

The time it took to travel between that system, and the station went by fairly quickly for Kyle. He’d been alone most of his life, with little to no friends, so to have a group of friends now - who actually wanted to spend time with him, who would seek him out to do so - brought him to a new high that he had never acquired in his memory. But having acquired a girlfriend - one who came from a people whose culture emphasized affection - brought him to a level of bliss that he didn’t think was possible. Kah’Ri had taken to spending her nights in his room, as the only real difference between general, and officer’s quarters was a bigger gym, that also served as a bit of a lounge for the officers.
He had - of course - applied for shore leave, and it had been immediately approved. Kah’Ri had also applied, and likewise was approved immediately; she had apparently never really gone on shore leave that much, only ever going at certain spots that were closer to any drahk’mihn colonies they happened to go near, or similar space stations. They had opted to get a hotel separate from the one that the Captain would be hiring to room the crew, as staying in the same hotel as the rest of the crew on the same space station would be little different than being on the ship. Zeck’Tish had recommended her cousin’s hotel, stating that he could use the business. Not that he was failing - Captala’Ellats was a major space station along the trading lanes - but with the divide between insectoid, and vertebrate species, he didn’t get as much business as others might. Of course the insectoid races all patronized his hotel, but with the insectoid species making up only about a third of all known species in the Federation, that wasn’t as much business as one might like.
And so he was currently on a call with Kohr’Sahr and Kahs’Hahn, having invited them to meet up a few days prior.
“... and so we’ll have to stop by the Council Headquarters to give our testimony of our time spent with you,” Kahs’Hahn was saying through Kohr’Sahr, “But we should be able to meet up tomorrow; we’ll send you a message when we arrive on-station, and we’ll go from there.”
“Sounds good,” Kyle said, just as he heard the door open; he’d given Kah’Ri the authorization to unlock his bedroom door without her security card, and she’d authorized him for her’s, in turn, “We’ll see you, then.”
“We?” Kohr’Sahr asked - he had long since learned to tell the difference between their slight accents when talking.
Kyle turned to Kah’Ri, smiling as he put his arm around her waist, and she slipped her tail around his, while wrapping her arms around his shoulders. He noticed her eyes widen slightly as she saw who was on screen, and he looked in time to see Kohr’Sahr’s eyes also widen in shock. He opened his mouth slightly, and Kyle noticed the barely perceptible shake of Kah’Ri’s head. Kohr’Sahr then cleared his throat, and said,
“Well… it seems as if we made quite the impact on you, eh Kyle?” ending in an awkward chuckle.
“Well,” he continued, “I don’t want to keep you from packing; Kyle, we’ll talk later. It was nice meeting you,” he added to Kah’Ri, and before either of them could reply, he cut the call short. Kah’Ri gave a soft sigh, then turned to walk to the bag she’d left on the floor by the ‘wall’ in front of the door.
“Come on,” she said, “We’ve docked with the station, and it’s time for us to go.”
Grabbing his own bag from the bed, he followed after her, locking his door behind them, and slipping his arm back around her waist.
“Did you know him?” he asked as they made their way to the elevators; she sighed lightly, but answered with a simple,
“No.”
“Well,” he pressed gently, “He seemed to know you… What are you, like, a runaway princess, or something?” While he finished with a light chuckle, Kah’Ri gave another slight sigh, and stopped walking. Kyle looked at her, feeling a growing sense of unease.
“Holy shit,” he said as she remained silent, “Are you?!”
She closed her eyes for a second, then turned to look into his eyes.
“I promise,” she said, and he was absorbed by the genuine care in her gaze, “I’ll tell you everything; but not right now. Later, when it’s just you and me, I promise I’ll tell you the truth.”
He looked into her eyes for a second, seeing the tears that wanted to come, and simply reached out, putting his hand on her cheek, and drawing her in for a kiss. As they separated, he gave her a small wink, and said,
“C’mon, let’s go see this station.” She gave him a shy smile, and they set off again.
After they’d been checked out by one of the other security chiefs, they were met by a crowd of their crew mates, all of whom were milling about outside the ship. They were soon informed why, as the Captain came up to them and informed them that the Federation Council was conducting interviews with a number of the crew, most notably those who’d had contact with Kyle; they would be conducted by the Council Representative for their people. Kyle also had an interview scheduled, though his would be with the suun’mahs Representative, in a mirror reason for the interviews of the rest of the crew: where the crew was obviously being interviewed to see how the newest species fit in from their point of view, he would be interviewed to see how other humans might react to the Federation, along with a chance to voice any grievances of his own.
Soon enough, they had all been contacted by their respective Representatives, and led off into separate rooms. Kyle was glad to see that this wasn’t an interrogation room, again, looking more like a general conference room. The suun’mahs who was to be interviewing him was male, and hadn’t seemed taken aback by the presence of Cheshire, indicating that while he may - or may not - have known about Cheshire himself, the human drive to turn predators into traveling companions was nothing new to him.
“Well, Ambassador Redding, this shouldn’t take too long; a few questions about your time in the Federation, so far, and then we can have you out of here, and enjoying your time off.”
“Thank you,” he replied, “And please, call me Kyle.”
Representative Ran’Teek smiled as he put what Kyle recognized as a holocamera on the table.
“Of course,” he stated, “You don’t mind if I record this, do you?”
“Of course not,” Kyle responded.
The questioning indeed didn’t take very long, barely even ten minutes worth of explanation, while other parts he was able to supply with a simple transfer of video data. Kay’Eighty made her appearance for that, and Representative Ran’Teek had a few questions for her, as well. Mostly about what she may need for the A.I. to be properly accommodated in the Federation, though he was obviously in untrodden ground, on that topic. Soon enough, they were done, and had exited the room.
“Well, Kyle,” Representative Ran’Teek stated as they made their way to the ‘streets’ of the station, “I guess this is where we part ways; unless you’d like for me to show you around? I still have quite a bit of time before our ship leaves, and it would be my pleasure to show you a few sights.”
Kyle checked the time on his wrist, and seeing that he also had no message from Kah’Ri telling him she was done, he could see no reason to refuse.
“Sure,” he replied, smiling, “That would be great.”
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Trading robux for rhd and rh sets (1:1 ratio)
Sets/items im looking for: Opposite attract Winter guardian. Cookie cutter loafers, Fabulous fur boa Cherry blossom hand fan,
Mon Cheri teaparty purse Steampunk set, royale rebel set, shadow empress. Fluttery frozen fan. Fuzzy warm frost hat. Sailor hat with bow Celestial flower bouquet.

Trading robux for rhd and rh sets (1:1 ratio)
Sets/items im looking for: Opposite attract Winter guardian. Cookie cutter loafers, Fabulous fur boa Cherry blossom hand fan,
Mon Cheri teaparty purse Steampunk set, royale rebel set, shadow empress. Fluttery frozen fan. Fuzzy warm frost hat. Sailor hat with bow Celestial flower bouquet.

I'm getting some sitting/laying bunnies and would like to get some faux fur for a detolf shelf, but it's hard to tell what'll look good or not on Amazon. Any recommendations?

Sets/items im looking for: Opposite attract Winter guardian. Cookie cutter loafers, Fabulous fur boa Cherry blossom hand fan,
Mon Cheri teaparty purse Steampunk set, royale rebel set, shadow empress. Fluttery frozen fan. Fuzzy warm frost hat. Sailor hat with bow Celestial flower bouquet.

The 35,000 acres of old growth forest in the Porkies is predominantly eastern hemlock. Therefore, it is the finest ecosystem in the country to find the highly medicinal red reishi mushroom (in this region, ganoderma tsugae), which has been cherished in East Asian medicine as the "mushroom of immortality."
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https://preview.redd.it/xt111hx8bt4b1.jpg?width=1200&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=324bd86cc92b997e0428a2f8da5923ac66bd9718
Given that mushrooms are bio-accumulators of heavy metals, old-growth forest which has never been mined or used for agriculture is the absolute best source of clean mushrooms. Unfortunately, the purity of the ecosystem is now in jeopardy.
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https://preview.redd.it/2posn4pabt4b1.png?width=1167&format=png&auto=webp&s=938a1dbd321f4d3df0803c603eb2ce553b0ef303
Copperwood, if it is allowed to pass, will be a copper sulfide mine. Sulfide mining extracts metals from sulfur-bearing ore. Sulfides are a byproduct. When sulfides mix with water and air, they create sulfuric acid–– basically, battery acid. If this acid leaks into groundwater – which it always does – the result is called acid mine drainage. Such a process does not bode well for the health and purity of mushrooms, or of other foraged goods, nor game hunted, and especially not for the fish in the waterways.
The proposed site would extract minerals from directly beneath Park property. It is a stone's throw from the Presque Isle River where many go fishing. It is only a few miles from Lake Superior, which represents 10% of the world's surface fresh water. It is immediately adjacent to the largest old growth forest in the Midwest. The Presque Isle Scenic Area once held an Ojibwe village – French fur traders and Ojibwe natives used to meet on its beaches to conduct their business. Clearly, this is an area of enormous historic, ecological, and recreational value.
Only a few weeks ago, copper was denied status of "critical mineral" by the US Geological survey: https://www.eenews.net/articles/usgs-rejects-push-to-make-copper-a-critical-mineral/
Is it therefore worth risk to endanger both the health of the ecosystem and the health of humans all for the sake of a mineral which has been deemed not to be of urgent importance?
Read the most recent news report:https://www.northernontariobusiness.com/industry-news/mining/copper-fever-on-the-keweenaw-6670430
"In laying out its strategy last week, the Longueuil, Que.company said it will decide by early 2024 whether to greenlight construction of its Copperwood Project, the first and smaller of its two deposits. Site prep work begins this summer."
Read about the project directly on the company website: https://www.highlandcopper.com/copperwood-project
Here is a critical view: www.ProtectThePorkies.com
For those who agree with the critical view and wish to help, the most important step is to sign and share the petition: www.change.org/ProtectThePorkies
If the project will not be greenlit until 2024, there is time to build resistance through public opinion. In the mean time, their "summer site prep" means clearcutting forest.