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staysaneathome · 11 months

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Not me imagining one day that a worn and withered mango is brought before Emperor Amethar of the Concordant Empire, the first of his name. She has been caught and is on trial for murder, for killing a seemingly innocuous servant of Vegetanian origin, but her final request is to be brought before the Emperor, to speak in private audience with him.

He recognizes her. Barely, the years cobwebbing his memories, but he remembers the mango who fought by Gustavo’s side. Amangeaux Epicée. The one who vanished mysteriously from before the war tent during the battle of Pangranos.

She laughs, a dry, raspy thing. “My liege, there is far more to the story than that.”

And she tells him.

She tells him of being a widowed queen, certain there were enemies all around her, placing her trust in only her faithful handmaiden, the kindly radish priest of the Bulb who did not abandon her like everyone else, and a young chili pepper she always saw as a daughter, despite the girl’s strength of character and martial prowess.

She tells him of receiving a letter, containing her darkest secret. Of meeting a thane of the meatlands and a cheesy sellsword outside the finished food pyramid, alongside her chili pepper spymaster and radish priest. Of descending into the depths to hold audience with the ones calling themselves “The Fellowship of Destiny’s Architects”, and the certainty they would all be called upon again one day.

Of escaping to Comida on the advice of her two closest advisors to throw her lot in with Tomaté. Of the summons sitting there in the carriage they were escaping in. Of being given a task: assassinate a threat to the future on behalf of the FDA.

Of not being told who the target was until the fatal blows had already been struck.

It is a miracle Amethar doesn’t rend her head from her shoulders then and there. He agrees to wait until her tale is done, one hand on the hilt of Payment Day.

Amangeaux explains the horror of learning what the FDA’s true purpose was, that it was headed by none other than the late Archbishop herself. Of running, abandoning all she loved save the one who depended on her the most. Of honing her knowledge and skills, giving herself to Gustavo, a blade to be wielded to help instead of harm. She speaks of the march to Pangranos, of reuniting with a demoted wreck of archdeacon and a cheesy knight of the Bulb. Of standing outside that tent, pretending her heart wasn’t leaping for joy at the sight of her little chili pepper grown into a fine and strong woman, of the thane turned warlord in his quest for power.

Of following the babbling, raving archdeacon when he sighted what they had come across so many years ago: a being of mold and fungus, gentle, expressive, and almost childlike. Who are connected, and communicate through emotions rather than words, who allow for the rot of death to be turned to the soil of life.

Of discovering the FDA’s taint had spread so far as to enslave an entire seventh kingdom of these beings, beneath the earth.

Of watching the Archbishop become an avatar of a monstrous existence beyond the Hungry One and the Bulb, a being of alien metal and spinning teeth that rent anything which entered it, uncaring and unnourished.

Of losing her two closest companions, her kindly radish and her little chili pepper, to its blades.

She speaks of vowing retribution. Of exterminating every last member of the FDA she could find, wherever she could find them. Of employing all the techniques she’d seen her spymaster use, oh so long ago.

Of completing her mission with this one, final death.

Amethar has to sit with this a moment.

“Why now?” He asks. “You have survived unseen all this time. You have told nobody of your crimes or exploits. Why me? Why now?”

Queen, then Lady, then just Amangeaux Epicée de la Pêche gives a tired grin.

“For you are the Concordant Emperor of Calorum,” She states, “And one of those most hurt by our actions. It is only fitting you should be aware of the seventh kingdom under your protection, and the chance to understand what circumstances delivered it to you.”

She is still smiling even when Payment Day’s blade cuts into her.

#a crown of candy #the ravening war #the ravening war spoilers #lady amangeaux epicée du peche #queen amangeaux epicee du peche #amethar rocks #king amethar #let 👏 Amethar 👏 have 👏 closure #dimension 20 acoc #dimension 20 trw #d20 trw #d20 acoc #acoc #is this a good end?#is it a bad end?#no one knows #it just possessed me #and i wrote it

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accidental-king · 28 days

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BURYING THE NOT QUITE DEAD: A DISCO ELYSIUM FANFIC

My take on the events after the game featuring a multi-fic HarryKim slowburn. I'm also just a sucker for case fics. This is just a snippet from Chapter 1 but I actually have several chapters written. I'll be posting them on AO3 eventually but I'd like to run it by some beta readers first. Feel free to DM me if you're interested!

SHIVERS - As the sun begins to lower over Jamrock, the dome of an old silk mill shines like brass in the golden light. It's not difficult to see a time in which masses of workers filed in and out of its entrances, and the motor lorries lined up along its western wing to collect their wares. Miles upon miles of lustrous textiles to be shipped across oceans and isolas to glide across the skin and furnishings of those few who can afford it. The Revacholiere will never be one of those people.

The long and blocky building projects off of either side of the dome like a russet brick ladybird, splitting its chitinous hide and stretching its wings between half-demolished tenements and modern high rises alike. Its masonry tells tales of a time before the deathblow. A time when even the utilitarian still showed a thread of residual vanity in the form of granite steps, sharp stone arches, and molded concrete cornerstones. Original varve clay brick, brown like dried autumn leaves, sit in contrast to newer, coppery replacements, highlighting the scars of war and neglect in cracks, blotches and even an entire end of one wing. Always visible like a reality you can't unsee.

ESPRIT DE CORPS - It has been a Police Precinct longer now than it was ever a Silk Mill but its old purpose still lingers in the bones of its columns, trusses, and long abandoned smoke stacks.

INLAND EMPIRE - It’s all that you have left.

What’s to the North?

What’s to the South?

What’s to the East?

What’s to the West?

What’s inside this building?

Shudder and blink

YOU - What’s to the North?

SHIVERS - A peninsula. A district left abandoned by its surrounding infrastructure. Bombed out ruins and mountains of shipping crates slowly turning red. The harbor has been locked up tight since shots rang out in the square. Blood and heavy fuel oil paint an old mosaic red and hang in the air like a fog that dares to challenge the sunlight. Motor lorries still sit abandoned in the circle, where you left them. A bookstore is no better now than your last visit, and a hostel is now empty of guests minus a few lucky souls who now grieve their lost brothers in the Union booth.

INLAND EMPIRE - It was your home for the past week.

CONCEPTUALIZATION - It is your birthplace. Born of a drug and drink deluge, on a floor covered in a lifetime of mistakes.

YOU - And beyond that?

SHIVERS - An islet of crumbling concrete and steel. The wind whistles through water reeds and swathes of tiny white petals that push through the last spring snow. Ashes of a fire long gone out blow out into the sea to be swallowed like the memories of the cause that built it. Its only resident is gone now, taken away for medical treatment and for a prison sentence that will see him to his final days.

What’s to the North?

What’s to the South?

What’s to the East?

What’s to the West?

What’s inside this building?

Shudder and blink

YOU - What’s to the south?

SHIVERS - An apartment building. Mostly stone, though partially the ivy and wisteria that have done their part to claim it in an attempt to reach the heavens. They are a part of one another now; inseparable without either coming to ruin. Inside, a marriage has been strengthened thanks to an unusual discovery made by an unusual officer of the RCM. Husband and wife embrace as they look over the colorful image between them.

YOU - And beyond that?

SHIVERS - A wind whips down the long stretch of Boogie Street that barely contains the buildings and crowds on either side. Neon signs illuminate dark windows that are rattled by the music within. Lively chatter fills the air both inside and out. A young woman walks out with her lover in hand. She presses close to his side to fight against the chill of the spring air as her dark brunette curls whip about her face. The man flashes a charismatic smile and he pulls her in closer to lead her away to a shiny white lacquer motor carriage parked just off the main street. They each know something the other does not.

What’s to the North?

What’s to the south?

What’s to the East?

What’s to the West?

What’s inside this building?

Shudder and blink

YOU - What’s to the east?

SHIVERS - Seemingly endless blocks of brutalist apartment buildings that tower over the residences that survived the revolution 43 years ago. The whole district lies in a millennium old riverbed, leaving it forever in shadow of Jamrock to its west, the GRIH to its north, Grand Couron to its east. Grand Couron and the Old South district maintain their borders with two of La Delta’s canals.

INLAND EMPIRE - A mark of constant probability. Everyone of Revachol West is just one bad couple of weeks away from moving to the Eminent Domain or the Burnt Out Quarter.

SHIVERS - Across the water, a woman in a satin robe sits with her elderly dog, surrounded by shining white marble as she peers out her 11th story window. The glass leaves the evening in an emerald tint. She would have the Eminent Domain wiped from the face of the Earth if it meant sparing her view. The canal and a financial cushion are all that separates her from the proles.

And beyond that?

SHIVERS - La rivière Espérance and Revachol East

What’s to the North?

What’s to the South?

What’s to the East?

What’s to the West?

What’s inside this building?

Shudder and blink

YOU - What’s to the West?

SHIVERS - A home you will never see again. Trees and underbrush devoured the old hospital and surrounding buildings of the Pox long before you even had a chance to remember it. Stray vagrants find their way through the bombed out ruins, shuffling past abandoned wire bed frames and rusted carts of broken tare. There is nothing left to be found here but a little bit of shelter from the wind. But the Valley of Dogs lurks nearby and most know never to stay unless they’re entirely out of options. This place will likely never be safe again.

What’s to the North?

What’s to the South?

What’s to the East?

What’s to the West?

What’s in this building?

Shudder and blink

YOU - What’s in this building?

SHIVERS - As day begins to fade and the lights begin to slowly begin to blink on across the city, multi-story factory windows will slowly transition from the concealing darkness to exposing illumination of what is no longer the East Insulindic Textiles Company. The loading docs have now become the motor pool for the 41st Precinct of the Revachol Citizens Militia. An old Coupris 40 whirs past a vehicle of a similar model and one of a decidedly newer model as it turns into the garage for the evening. Both MCs it passed do not belong to the 41st.

Inside the building proper, a stern looking man in a well tailored uniform walks toward the elevator at a brisk pace. His left breast is heavily decorated in medals and ribbons. One from the Suzerain, three from the Commune, most from the Moralist International. He bears the weight of the whole city on his shoulders but he carries it with an air of pride and authority. He’s heard tell of some strange happenings and without seeing it for himself, he’s not sure he believes it.

Across the precinct, in the East wing, tucked into the far end of the first floor an eclectic group of men sit inside a dimly lit Lazareth. Three surround one in a way not too dissimilar from how the interviewee had been earlier in the day.

What’s to the North?

What’s to the South?

What’s to the East?

What’s to the West?

What’s in this building?

Shudder and blink

YOU - A violent shudder passes down your spine and you find yourself suddenly aware that you have been staring off into the ether for about 3 minutes. You are one with your body once more.

PRECINCT 41 - The Lazareth Office of Dr. Nix Gottlieb is small despite the size of the precinct that it maintains. Cabinets and shelves line just about every surface in some manner or capacity. And each and every surface was crammed packed with medical supplies, specimens, and piles upon piles of folders and textbooks. There isn’t much space to move, let alone work. The center of the room is dominated by a surgical table that is currently sporting a flimsy pad that serves as a cushion for your injured ass.

INLAND EMPIRE - This is the closest thing to private healthcare you’ve seen in years.

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT - Your bullet riddled leg has already been looked over. You’d managed to pull your stitches and partially reopen the injury during your little jaunt about Martinaise and the islet.

PAIN THRESHOLD - You wish you’d been unconscious like the first time you got sewn up. Gottlieb is quick and efficient but he’s merciless in the empathy department. In other words, you cried. And your leg still hurts like a bitch.

EMPATHY - Kim radiated pride and relief behind his subdued expression when the doctor had complimented his work.

ESPRIT DE CORPS - [legendary: failure] He’s just glad it wasn’t worse.

NIX GOTTLIEB - The doctor is a bespeckled elderly man, dressed in civilian clothes, a dark, woven turtle neck covered by a brown blazer that stopped fitting him in the shoulders about 10 years ago. His forehead and brow are permanently creased by stress and a deep look of concentration. His brow deepens when you shake yourself out of the thought. “Welcome back, Detective.”

RHETORIC - That was sarcasm. He doesn’t care.

PERCEPTION [smell] - On his breath, mingled with the scent of Tioumoutiri cigarettes, you catch a whiff of peppermint schnapps.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY - If we play our cards right, maybe he’ll share a belt.

VOLITION - We’ve been clean this week. Don’t fuck this up now.

NIX GOTTLIEB - He scratches at his wispy white hair and beard as he speaks over his shoulder at two other men. “And how long would you say these episodes tend to last?”

KIM KITSURAGI - Your partner of the last seven days looks between you and the blue notebook in his hands, occasionally flipping through its pages. He still stands in his field attire; Orange nylon bomber jacket zipped up to his collar, white crew shirt hidden beneath it, brown aviation mechanic pants tucked neatly into his black boots, and his brown leather driving gloves.

KIM KITSURAGI - He thumbs over a couple of pages before answering, “Anywhere between a few seconds to several minutes. This… is one of his longer episodes.”

CONCEPTUALIZATION - Wait! Has he been taking notes on you?

LOGIC - [medium: Failure] Of course not. We’ve already established that this is his method of working through his thoughts. This is likely a method of recall for him.

TRANT HEIDELSTAM - A lean blonde man in a tailored suit looks over you from where he stands, with fascination glittering in his hazel eyes. You saw a similar light when you spoke with him in front of the defunct Feld R&D when he spoke of their pre-revolution efforts. He was also one of the only ones in the fishing village who stood up for you against your partners onslaught of insults.

ESPRIT DE CORPS - This man is a special consultant taken onto the Major Crimes Unit in C-Wing. His well-traveled knowledge and personable demeanor has lent itself invaluably to the task force.

AUTHORITY - /Your/ task force.

INLAND EMPIRE - Not anymore. You’ll be lucky if they’ll even let you back into the field as a patrol officer, given the circumstances.

TRANT HEIDELSTAM - “And what do you experience during these… lapses, Harry?”

HALF LIGHT - Don’t. This is a trap.

[RHETORIC - challenging] Explain the skill set

+1 Kim is here -1 Butcher doctor -1 This sounds insane

[VOLITION: legendary] “The city speaks to me sometimes.”

+1 Revelation in the church +1 She loves you -1 This sounds insane

[DRAMA - godly] Convince them your thoughts are normal (lie)

-1 Kim is here -1 Butcher doctor -1 You’re already insane

“A real shit show of internal monologue that drowns out the world around me.” [continue]

Really? Anything else?

YOU - Really? Anything else?

CONCEPTUALIZATION - Nope.

[RHETORIC - challenging] Explain the skill set

RHETORIC [challenging - Failure] What spills forth is a vomited spew of half finished sentences, aborted gestures, and some words you’re pretty sure you’re misusing. You throw in some apologies and self-depreciation for good measure like a dog half-heartedly trying to bury its own shit.

NIX GOTTLIEB - “Try again. But in Vacholian this time.” His arms cross and his fingers drum impatiently on his bicep.

[RHETORIC - challenging] Explain the skill set

[VOLITION - legendary] “The city speaks to me sometimes.”

+1 Revelation in the church +1 She loves you -3 This sounds insane

[DRAMA - godly] Convince them your thoughts are normal (lie)

-1 Kim is here -1 Butcher doctor -3 You’re already insane

“A real shit show of internal monologue that drowns out the world around me.” [continue]

Really? Anything else?

YOU - “Just a real shit show of an internal monologue that drowns out the world around me.”

KIM KITSURAGI - “It’s inconvenient at times, but he often comes through with concepts and ideas I never would have considered. Unorthodox as it may be, it was invaluable to the investigation.”

DRAMA - [Medium: Success] He means it, sire.

EMPATHY - He’s concerned about your well being, but he also doesn’t want to see you misrepresented in the eyes of these men.

+1 Morale

#disco elysium #fanfic #my art #my writing #harry du bois #do not repost #post martinaise #slow burn #kim kitsuragi #harry x kim #harrykim

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whovianwatchingstartrek · 5 months

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A Whovian Watches Star Trek for the First Time: Part 106 - Deep Cover within a Deep Cover

Star Trek: Discovery - Season 1 Episode 11 - The Wolf Inside

We open this episode with a monologue from Michael about her time so far in the Empire universe, and how the constant need to watch her back is effecting her. Additionally, we find out that this universe's Saru is a slave, which is sad to see, but for this universe's standards should have been expected. Also the use of a transporter as a method of execution is absolutely brutal to see.

Michael has managed to obtain the information on the Defiant, however cracking the firewall from the Shenzhou is difficult, and sending it to Discovery would be noticed.

Unfortunately back on Discovery, our crew has discovered the death of Colbert, and their immediate assumption is that in his current state, Paul did it. Sylvia has an idea to cure Paul's condition however, and takes him down to the engineering lab. Her theory is that the Spore Network is simply using all of Paul's physical resources to keep the portal between the universes open, and that a fresh dose of spores might wake him up, and she puts this hypothesis to the test.

On the Shenzhou, Michael has been given the location of the leader of the Klingon rebellion, someone called "The Firewolf" and is ordered to kill him.

In a private conversation with Lorca, Michael reveals that she is really hopeful that this rebellion could lead to a Federation like entity if it wins. It's even made up of the same mix of species as the Federation founders, just substituting Klingons for Humans. She is reluctant to go through with her orders. Her plan is to beam into the Firewolf's camp with Ash to negotiate. The pair are captured immediately after appearing, and are taken to the firewolf.

Apparently Sarek is among the firewolf's camp, and they refer to him as "The Prophet". Sarek performs a mindmeld with Michael, and sees the memories from the Federation Universe, and he clears any doubt about Michael's intentions. Michael, looking for advice on how to help with the war in the Federation universe starts asking the Firewolf questions, however a lot of the Firewolf's answers start to trigger Ash's sleeper programming, and a sword fight ensues. Sarek manages to break it up however, and continues to vouch for Michael.

Meanwhile on Discovery, Sylvia's experiment is having a positive effect on Paul, and moving the stress on his brain to some of his other organs, however it then goes wrong, and medical staff have to step in to stabilise him, but he goes braindead, albiet only temporarily. Once Tilly is alone with him, we get to see Paul's perspective inside the spore network, and we're teased with him encountering his empire universe counterpart.

Back on Shenzhou, Ash finally confesses as much as he can about his current state to Michael, and he starts to remember his true past. Apparently, he is a Klingong that was molded into a human and given false memories to infiltrate discovery. More specifically, he is the Federation Universe's counterpart to the Firewolf. He attacks Michael to avenge T'Kuvma, but the Shenzhou crew apprehend him, and Michael orders to have him Transporter Executed. As he sufficates in Space though, Discovery transport him aboard, and turns out this was partially a ruse to get the Data on the Defiant to Discovery. We're then hit with a final blow of another ship appearing to destroy the Rebels themselves, and we're hit with another surprise that apparently the Emperor is Georgiou, something which I really wasn't expecting.

I'm liking this whole corruption arc for Michael, and I thought the Ash twist was fun. It was nice seeing more of this universe, but I wish we could have spent a bit more time fleshing out the Rebels. Good episode, but I think the previous one was a bit better. Still excited to see where this goes now that the Emperor is directly involved though.

#whovian watching star trek #star trek #star trek Discovery #Star Trek DIS #Star Trek DISCO #ST DIS #ST DISCO #DIS #st: disco #DISCO #st: discovery #Discovery #ST: DIS

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callme-whatever-youlike · 8 months

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GUYS. Can we please talk about episode eight!? All things Empire. PLEASE!?

SPOILERS. I've tried to be vague, but you have been warned.

Holy mother of fuck the final reveal at the end about Demerzel has me reeling. There were so many clues to this, (look at the title sequence it answers so much) and I saw it coming but that did NOT soften the blow.

I've got so many questions about XIII that I still want answered. He was the first real crack in the mold, and I feel like there are huge things coming regarding his character.

Also, hate me if you like, but little Miss Empress to be has to die. Don't get me wrong, she's a brilliantly written and beautifully portrayed character with a lot of depth, and I can completely understand why a lot of people side with her... But she's poison. Say what you like about XVII. He's a manipulative, dangerous brat with a chip on his shoulder and is temperamental to match, but underneath all that, he's just a baby.

He wants to change the genetic dynasty so desperately that he's willing to do anything and put so much aside, and that makes him vulnerable and, in a sense, easy to control. He's yet to show ironwill and resolve like XIII.

It makes me wonder if he'll meet a similar fate to XIV Dawn...

I mean XVII and Demerzel love each other as much as I imagine they can express it with all their flaws and damaged edges. But, I honestly don't know if Demerzel will turn on her future Empress, or Day himself. Maybe both.

There's so much to unpack and so many lore drops that I'm completely shaken by, and I could go on for paragraphs and paragraphs about so much more, but I'm going to leave this here for now.

What are your thoughts?

#foundation #apple tv #foundation season two #cleon xiii #demerzel #cleon xvii #for the love of fuck #i am losing my mind #disrespect the peace

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dvandom · 3 months

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Retief and the Peter Principle

Inspired by James Nicoll's essay on SF and the Peter Principle.

For those not into 70s SF, Jaime Retief is the protagonist of Keith Laumer's more light-hearted ironic post-Golden Age space opera stuff, a counterpart to his grimmer Bolo stories (albeit potentially set in the same universe, or Retief is in an AU of Bolo). He works for the Corps Diplomatique Terrestrienne (CDT), a secret agent of the James Bond mold masquerading as yet another ineffectual CDT drone. The typical story involves the CDT trying to do something stupid on an alien world, and while technically following orders Retief manages to salvage the situation by just being So Much More Clever than his ostensible superiors. A common point of tension is that the Terrans have the military might to crush any opposition, but without Retief (and possibly a few others like him scattered about), the Groaci would eat our lunch and dominate known space.

It's basically read as a broadly satirical take on U.S. attempts at diplomacy, a comedy of errors against an enemy that shouldn't be that much of a challenge but somehow is (Groaci war tech is mostly knockoffs of older Terran tech, and they don't have nearly as much of it). So, Retief has to make sure he has the proper hemi-semi-demi-formal leisure suit for the afternoon meeting, while also keeping the Groaci from stealing a planet out from under the CDT. Retief's boss is good at covering his own ass, taking credit for Retief's actions (especially those that were ostensibly direct violations of orders), etc. Classic struggle of the only competent guy at the company to keep things from falling apart when the institutional culture is just crap, right?

Now...it's quite possible that this surface reading is all that Laumer intended. But, while it's been many years since I read the books, I never got the impression that Retief himself though "blow the Groaci away" was actually a preferred solution. Whoever Retief really answers to seems to be generally okay with the "diplomats, not armadas" policy.

Potential Death of the Author time. Regardless of what Laumer really meant, these days I see the situation as a case of the entire Terran government suffering from the Peter Principle, in which they have been promoted above the level of their competence.

They are very good at military solutions. It's often pointed out that they could throw a switch and roll over the Groaci-held worlds on a moment's notice, without scratching the paint on the dreadnaughts. But at some point in the relatively recent past, they decided to be Better. To work towards diplomatic solutions, make allies rather than vassals. And the ludicrously incompetent actions of the Corps Diplomatique Terrestrienne demonstrate that no one really knows how to do that. The warlike phase went on long enough that institutional memory of diplomacy was lost, and they're forced to fall back on historical records going back to when Terrans were restricted to Terra. They desperately want to be the United Federation of Planets instead of being the Empire, but it's outside their competency. Meanwhile, the Groaci (and probably some other minor powers) have realized that this levels the playing field a LOT. They can do stupid and bad diplomacy as well as the Terrans can, and it's a lot more likely to get them what they want than trying to pick an actual fight in which they'd get vaporized. Some of them might even be honestly better at diplomacy than the CDT.

Retief's job, then, is to troubleshoot the process. The true brains behind the Terran government are smart enough to know they have no idea what they're doing, a lot of wheels are being reinvented and turning out to be rectangular. So Retief is put in a position to chisel them into a more round-ish shape before disaster happens.

Retief is the sergeant who keeps the newly minted lieutenant that is the CDT out of trouble, while being careful to maintain the illusion of the chain of command. Hemi-semi-demi-usually.

#retief #keith laumer

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marvelstars · 9 months

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“So, you have finally accepted the truth,” Vader gloated.

“T have accepted the truth that you were once Anakin Skywalker, my father.”

“That name no longer has meaning for me.” It was a name from long ago. A different life, a different universe. Could he truly once have been that man?

“Tt is the name of your true self,” Luke’s gaze bore steadily down on the cloaked figure. “You have only forgotten. I know there is good in you. The Emperor hasn’t driven it fully away.” He molded with his voice, tried to form the potential reality with the strength of his belief.

“That’s why you could not destroy me. That’s why youwon’t take me to your Emperor now.”

Vader seemed almost to smile through his mask at his son’s use of Jedi voice-manipulation. He looked down at the lightsaber the captain had given him—Luke’s lightsaber. So the boy was truly a Jedi now. A man grown. He held the lightsaber up. “You have constructed another.”

“This one is mine,” Luke said quietly. “I no longer use yours.”

Vader ignited the blade, examined its humming, brilliant light, like an admiring craftsman. “Your skills are complete. Indeed, you are as powerful as the Emperor has foreseen.”

--------

“Come with me, Father.”

Vader shook his head. “Ben once thought as you do—’

“Don’t blame Ben for your fall—” Luke took a step closer, then stopped.

Vader did not move. “You don’t know the power of the dark side. I must obey my master.”

“T will not turn—you will be forced to destroy me.”

“If that is your destiny.” This was not his wish, but the boy was strong—if it came, at last, to blows, yes, he would destroy Luke. He could no longer afford to hold back, as he once had

“Search your feelings, Father. You can’t do this. I feel the conflict within you. Let go of your hate.”

But Vader hated no one; he only lusted too blindly. “Someone has filled your mind with foolish ideas, young one. The Emperor will show you the true nature of the Force. He is your master, now.”

Vader spoke just before the guards arrived.

“Tt is too late for me, Son.”

“Then my father is truly dead,” answered Luke. So what was to stop him from killing the Evil One who stood before him now? he wondered.

Nothing, perhaps.

Star Wars - Return Of The Jedi by James khan

So I have seen this movie many times but I forgot Luke tried to mind trick Vader into coming with him away from the Death Star and turn agaisnt the Empire in the novel while Vader just smiled about him doing that. (Head canon that Vader sees Luke as his little Kryat Dragon, who can do no wrong accepted)

I also love the little clues about Anakin/Vader inner conflict here:

He doesn´t want to kill his Son but has hold back many times in the past

He says he doesn´t hate anyone, he only lusts for power but also tells his Son that it´s too late for him as if telling him no to worry about him becase he is not worth it.

Little clues that later led to the climax in the story.

#star wars #darth vader #anakin skywalker #luke skywalker #Return of the Jedi #Luke original plan to bring his father over to the lightside was to mind trick him into it and that´s so sweet of him #Sure he´s a ball of sunshine but he´s not going to hang out with Darth Vader without a safety measure #thank you very much #He´s lucky Vader thought it was cute and made him smile

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making-dough · 8 months

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getting graded in fire emblem rp ♠ - She'd been mid-swing when she'd been suddenly pulled, yanked to... whatever this place was. Looked like a doll house. Feels like one too. Controlled by a mysterious talking Voice. Well, at least, they'd found everyone else so at least that was some good news there. Even if it felt like some more cosmic weirdness. And why was it that she was getting the odd impression that she was never aiming for Jugdral to begin with? Well, all this were 'roles' assigned by some cosmic weirdness, then the black cloak and Colla's reactions made her 'role' clear enough. A thief, huh? Well, the gold were certainly tempting enough. Though, she can't really claim much in the way of thiefiness. Fine. She'll play along for now, standing right behind Ephidel behind the unsuspecting mannequin holding a purse of gold "Why do I feel like we're not out of the woods yet?", she muttered quietly to herself.

The Voice returns with some more mockery, mocking them for their assumptions and their empty-handedness, offering them some tools but warning that they have to fit their 'mold'. You are empty-handed. She'd been ready to complain about exactly whose fault that would be but then Miss Mysterious Voice turned around and offered a choice of props so fair enough? The warnings about needing to fit its mold sounded vague enough, though given what had happened to Frederick and co, it was most likely a promise of more violence. Well, she couldn't really say she wasn't familiar enough with that kind of gamble. The life of a mercenary was never easy, after all. Violence, blood and the risk of permanent harm were all just a single mistake away, whether you were ready or not. Whether you wanted this life or not. Her mind drifted almost instinctively towards the bloodstained blade, sharp, trustworthy and practical. Even if it turned out to be a mistake, she'd much rather to have a weapon in hand than without. There was a brief flicker in the direction of the silver lance before she'd decided against it. That had looked a little too rich for her. It was probably a good idea to avoid being too indebted to Mysterious Cosmic Voices™. This would do. The blade she'd imagined had turned on her, stabbing her through the middle and sending a sudden jolt of pain through her body, but somehow, that was just fine. It wasn't as though she was expecting to get out of this completely unscathed, anyway. And soon it was time for the next test. The Voice returns, sounding amused yet disappointed at the same time. "If another believes you a villain, then a villain you shall be.", the Voice laughed before a series of lights revealed the trial laid before her. A glance towards the mannequin cowering before her told her just about what she was expected to do. "A villain, huh?", she muttered to herself, walking up to the cowering mannequin in green and placing her hands around its neck. There she stayed for a moment as if caught in indecision. Pondering whether or not she could deliver the final blow. And wondering if the flashes of the purple curls on top of its head she was barely glimpse was simply her imagination or not. Well, that settled it. If it had been armed, she wouldn't have anywhere near as many qualms but a cowering foe? Villain or not, she didn't much care what others thought of her but she'd at least like to be able to recognise herself. With a grunt of disgust, Farina simply gave the mannequin a quick frisk and then threw the mannequin off to the side, as if she'd lost all interest in it. She wasn't enough of a do-gooder to help it and neither was she ruthless enough to do it harm. Well, unless it had been carrying anything worthwhile, anyway. She'd happily help herself as a 'payment', then. The rest were a series of questions that she could honestly do little to help in, neither having as much familiarity with the old empire that once ruled Jugdral nor familiarity with this mysterious Voice that they'd apparently encountered on a previous mission. Apparently, they got her name, at least. Pasithee, child of Celephais and Keranes. Somebody cursed by something that had condemned her and wanted revenge, apparently. That was the piece of information they could confirmed from this Voice. Eventually, the Voice no longer answers. Instead the darkness grows closer to all of you until it’s all you can sense. Endless nothingness. Then you are nothingness.

#toasabbamvitatham2023 #svverdane2023 #dreamingdragonscion #artificidel #delicatevalentine #lunaede #daeficatio #ofdusk #princessmacedon #laslow

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thepastisalreadywritten · 6 months

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By Erin Blakemore

October 25, 2023

More than 500 years ago, a 14-year-old girl was escorted up an Andean peak and sacrificed to Inca gods.

Buried on the mountain with a variety of offerings, the young woman’s body naturally mummified over time, preserving her hair, her fingernails, the colorful robes she wore on her last day.

But at some point across the centuries, her face became exposed to the elements, her features slowly vanishing over seasons of sunlight and snowfall.

Now, that long-lost face has been recovered thanks to painstaking archaeological analysis and forensic reconstruction.

A striking 3-D bust of the young woman, known today as the Ice Maiden of Ampato, is the centerpiece of a new exhibit in Peru and part of an ongoing effort to understand the drama of human sacrifice practiced in the Andes half a millennium ago.

A sacrificial offering

When National Geographic Explorer Johan Reinhard encountered the mummy, also known as Juanita, atop 21,000-foot Mount Ampato during a 1995 expedition, he knew he had discovered something spectacular.

“At first it looked like one big bundle of textiles,” Reinhard recalls. Then he saw the wizened face amid the folds of fabric.

Here was a young victim of the elusive Inca ritual known as capacocha.

Capacocha mostly involved the sacrifice of children and animals who were offered to the gods in response to natural disasters — to consolidate state power in far-flung provinces of the Inca Empire, or simply to please the deities.

The ritual played an important part in sustaining the Inca Empire. It would involve feasts and grand processions to accompany the children, who appear to have been chosen for their beauty and physical perfection.

Being selected for sacrifice, researchers believe, would have considered a deep honor by the child’s family and community.

Most of the information we have on capacocha, however, is second hand, notes Dagmara Socha, an archaeologist with the Center for Andean Studies at the University of Warsaw who studies the ritual and commissioned the facial reconstruction of the Ice Maiden of Ampato.

“No European colonist ever saw the ceremony,” she explains.

Despite gaps in the historical record, the high-altitude archaeological finds of more than a dozen Inca children on Ampato and other mountains point provide critical evidence for what happened during these rituals.

The means of sacrifice varied, perhaps due to customs related to specific gods. Some children were buried alive or strangled; others had their hearts removed.

The Ice Maiden’s life ended with a single blunt-force blow to the back of the skull.

In search of the Ice Maiden

Oscar Nilsson knows that skull intimately: He spent months with a replica of it in his Stockholm studio, eventually fashioning a sculpture of the 14-old-girl that, glimpsed from afar, almost seems alive.

It’s a two-step process, says the Swedish archaeologist and sculptor.

First, Nilsson immerses himself in the world of his subject with an archaeologist’s eye for detail, digesting as much data as possible to understand what she might have looked like.

Even without a mummified face, he can extrapolate the likely depth of the facial tissue that once draped over those bones, using everything from CT scans to DNA analyses to information about diet and disease to make educated guesses about the individual’s face.

Then came the handiwork. Nilsson printed a 3-D replica of the Ice Maiden’s skull, plugging wooden pegs into its surface to guide the depth and placement of each hand-crafted, plasticine clay muscle.

Eerie eyes, masseter muscles, a nose, the delicate rope-like tissues that constitute a human face: each was added in turn.

After making a silicone mold of the bust, he added hundreds of individual hairs and pores in shades of brown and pink.

It took ten weeks.

Following the Inca Gods

The result, wrapped in robes woven by local women from Peru's Centro de Textiles Tradicionales, is the main attraction at “Capacocha: Following the Inca Gods” at the Museo Santuarios Andinos in Arequipa, Peru through November 18.

The reconstruction will be displayed alongside the Ice Maiden’s mummy, accompanied by the stories of 15 other children selected for capacocha atop Ampato and other Andean peaks.

Their ages range from 3 to about 13. The mummies and skeletal remains of several are featured as 3-D models at the exhibition, which also showcases holographs of some of the sacred items buried alongside them.

These natural mummies offer scientists tantalizing clues about their last days.

When Socha and colleagues conducted toxicological and forensic analyses of the remains of a toddler and four six-to-seven-year-old victims featured in the exhibition, they found they were well cared for in the months before their sacrifice.

They were fed a steady diet of coca leaves, ayahuasca vine, and alcohol in the weeks before their deaths — not as much to intoxicate them as to keep them sedated and anxiety-free as the timeline hurtled toward their sacrifice.

“We were really surprised by the toxicology results,” says Socha.

“It wasn’t only a brutal sacrifice. The Inca also wanted the children to be in a good mood. It was important to them that they go happily to the gods.”

High altitude, psychogenic substances, the spectacular view, the knowledge the afterlife was near — all must have made for an astonishing ceremony, says Reinhard.

“The whole phenomenon must have been overpowering.”

During the last phase of his reconstruction, Nilsson spent hours contemplating and attempting to capture the young girl’s presence 500 years after her death.

The result is both unsettlingly realistic and jarringly personal.

“She was an individual,” the forensic reconstructionist says.

“She must have understood her life would end on the mountaintop in a couple of weeks. We can only hope that she believed in the afterworld herself.”

For Reinhard, finally seeing the face of the girl he carried down the mountain on his back decades ago brought the Ice Maiden’s story full circle.

“It brings her back to life,” he says. The reconstruction brings the focus as much to her culture and daily life as to her spectacular death.

But Nilsson never forgot the way the Ice Maiden died, even as he brought her to life through his reconstruction.

More than anything, he says, he wanted to capture a sense of being frozen — a nod not just to her icy, mummified future but to a girl teetering on the edge of eternity, though still very much alive.

“She knew she was supposed to smile, to express pride,” he says. “Proud to be chosen. But still very, very afraid.”

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bitchencrafter · 2 months

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the-firebird69 · 4 months

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the wate here is high. the river the harbor is flooding punta gorda fl. and other areaas in the sw florida area are flooded. half of fort meyers they heard about the digging int he gulf offshore of the east coast and are ecited can breath and see and more and wont be exhausted and true and flooding daily gross no mold mildew.and the wait. and look and inspire some go to help nad it is awar and they say it are not us. are psuedo empire. but they go too and work and tons come in no so they morlock try for stuff and are hit. and say how and they the troops are there real ones. and shioot looters and say it. now this is new not in pg but yes all around outside charlotte and there yes. and tons go now and are out working. and see it

are at about 70 miles and out oof about 100 on average some of it is less about 80 off sarasot and will affect here they are on top of it shortly a few more passes and yes overlap and within feet of their target and to be accuate see it. and wow. and huge. tons of veins and sten towards the tip. and a beast. a wondefully huge one. too huge. their tank a speck no but not huge at all by comparison. and they balk and are squeemish see it that one is vast downb elow the find huge and move now. slow no. fast. and the flow is fast here in the gully. but slowly receeds is all the way to downtown and flows down this way at times no does. and well halfway there. and it is aweful. and they used to water their lawns a lot to flood here and are not nw and after the last one. well second to last now this one. are at it soon with clones after they see it.

tons needed this yes and to clear out sh and more lol. lots more lol.

and approach the cliff now and are at it no but are on the last few runs. and soon. and the poop is barrelling over teh edge and was slowely and makes a difference nad mostly cleared the poop out and it flows now and cleans out with water from the rivers and harbor still murkey but less after this pours out. and it does fast now. and due to the remvoed poop. about ten feet to twenty the whole way. and out. all is murk now. but a few feet occassionally and will be out soon. now it is stink too. blows herre. soon. stinks badly. the shit goes over teh ledge and will feed the algea and kelp and abosorb the smell as it comes in true too the stuff gets eaten up by air well it does.

soon it will fall off. in an hour we thin

Thor Freya he sys thank you we do appreciate it yes

i do too thank God this is hell here

Hea

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randys-resale · 6 months

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Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Santa blow mold.

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vinceviralfreak · 7 months

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Title: Shadows of the Empire

Genre: Thriller

Chapter 1: The Rise of Caligula

In the heart of ancient Rome, a young and ambitious man named Gaius Caesar Augustus Germanicus, better known as Caligula, was about to embark on a journey that would forever change the course of history. Born into a family of power and privilege, Caligula was destined to become one of the most notorious emperors the world had ever seen.

As a child, Caligula witnessed the brutal reign of his uncle, Emperor Tiberius, who ruled with an iron fist. The young boy's innocence was shattered as he observed the corruption and debauchery that plagued the Roman Empire. These experiences would shape his future, molding him into a man driven by a thirst for power and a desire for revenge.

Chapter 2: The Dark Descent

Caligula's ascension to the throne was met with both anticipation and trepidation. The people of Rome hoped for a new era of prosperity and stability, but little did they know that their new emperor was harboring a dark secret. Behind his charming smile and charismatic demeanor, Caligula was a man consumed by madness.

As the days turned into weeks, and the weeks into months, Caligula's true nature began to reveal itself. He ruled with an iron fist, imposing cruel and sadistic punishments on those who dared to oppose him. The streets of Rome became a breeding ground for fear and paranoia, as whispers of assassination plots and conspiracies filled the air.

Chapter 3: The Web of Deception

Caligula's thirst for power knew no bounds. He surrounded himself with a network of spies and informants, ensuring that no one was safe from his watchful eye. Even his closest allies lived in constant fear of his unpredictable wrath.

In the shadows, a group of rebels emerged, determined to put an end to Caligula's reign of terror. Led by a courageous senator named Marcus, they plotted to overthrow the emperor and restore peace to Rome. But as they delved deeper into their mission, they realized that Caligula's web of deception was far more intricate than they had ever imagined.

Chapter 4: The Final Showdown

As tensions reached a boiling point, the stage was set for a final showdown between Caligula and his enemies. The streets of Rome became a battleground, as the rebels fought valiantly to bring an end to the emperor's tyranny.

In a climactic twist of fate, Caligula's own paranoia and madness proved to be his downfall. Consumed by his delusions, he turned against his own loyal guards, leaving himself vulnerable to the rebels' attack. In a moment of triumph, Marcus delivered the final blow, ending Caligula's reign of terror once and for all.

Epilogue: Legacy of Shadows

With Caligula's demise, Rome breathed a collective sigh of relief. The empire slowly began to heal from the wounds inflicted by his tyrannical rule. However, the legacy of Caligula would forever haunt the annals of history, serving as a reminder of the dangers of absolute power and the darkness that can lurk within the human soul.

Shadows of the Empire is a chilling tale of ambition, madness, and the relentless pursuit of power. It explores the depths of human depravity and the resilience of those who dare to stand against it. In a world where shadows loom at every corner, the line between hero and villain becomes blurred, leaving only the echoes of a dark and twisted empire.

#thriller #horror

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cohenskicksposts · 8 months

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Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: HALLOWEEN Vintage Empire Blow Mold Pumpkin Candy Trick or Treat Bucket Pail USA.

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missanissa71 · 10 months

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Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: 2 Vintage Christmas Empire Blow Mold Santa Claus Plastic 1968 Table Top 13 Inch.

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kingoodin · 1 year

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Malzareth, the Lich King

I am Malzareth, the Lich King, the sole survivor of the obliterated Dead Empire. My existence is marked by relentless retaliation against the human kingdom, the authors of my people's demise. I wield the formidable power of Anti-Life, a rare and destructive force that has transformed me into an undead sorcerer, a figure of fatal attraction and latent malevolence.

My intelligence exceeds the mundane, enabling precise anticipation of unfolding events. Paired with my innate cunning and manipulative traits, I utilize others for my benefit, employing deceit to meet my ends. I am thoroughly self-centered, viewing myself as superior, a sentiment that permeates my kingdom. This narcissism is mirrored in my treatment of my twin sons, Alaric and Aldous, whom I subject to severe discipline, molding them into unfeeling, ruthless beings.

Death fascinates me. Its potent allure defines my character and underscores my indifference towards others' freedom and wellbeing. I hold many in bondage - witches, elves, humans, dryads, and various fae beings - unmoved by their torment.

My sole attachment is to Thalas, the only being capable of my destruction. Our shared history and intense bond breed strife as Thalas strives to shield the world from my sinister intentions. Yet, this bond fails to deter me from my path of ruin and domination.

Alaric and Aldous, my twin sons, exist under my firm control. This control, often crossing into abuse, is a necessary evil. Their strength, their ruthlessness, their submission to my will, are all instrumental in my grand design. They are pawns in my game, cogs in my machine, being shaped and hardened to fit the unforgiving world I envision.

Thalas, my lost son, stirs within me a semblance of paternal sentiment. Ripped from my influence, he has grown under the care of others, yet I see myself in him - the dormant power, the potential for greatness. His existence torments me, a constant reminder of what was taken, fueling my resolve for domination. I seek to reclaim him, to shape him into an instrument of my will, much like Alaric and Aldous.

My tale is a merciless descent into darkness. My fixation on Thalas, my envy of Sorin, these intensify my list of horrors. I weave a web of deceit, fostering mistrust between Thalas and Sorin, aiming to sever their bond and claim Thalas. As my actions grow increasingly malevolent, it becomes clear that my obsession and apathy might be my downfall.

In the inevitable confrontation, my path of ruin leads to a lethal clash with Sorin, Thalas, and their allies. Despite my cunning and might, my fixation on Thalas becomes my Achilles heel. Thalas, exploiting our unique bond, delivers the final blow, terminating my reign of terror.

In this somber narrative, my descent into darkness, spurred by my perverse affection for Thalas and my envy of Sorin, becomes evident. As my crimes multiply, the true extent of my cruelty and obsession is laid bare, leading inevitably to my downfall. All rights reserved. This book or parts thereof may not be reproduced in any form, stored in any retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or otherwise—without prior written permission of the publisher, except as provided by United States of America copyright law. For permission requests, write to the Author at [email protected]

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