Camp Rock 3

Twelve Foot Ninja: For the discussion of all things TFN!

2013.10.04 16:35 Pachydermus Twelve Foot Ninja: For the discussion of all things TFN!

A place where we can discuss all thing [Twelve Foot Ninja!](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Twelve_Foot_Ninja)
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2015.09.22 16:26 cornflakes_ Hiking and backpacking in the Philippines

All things hiking and backpacking in the Philippines!
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2014.11.08 22:01 poeticboink For all those photo's that scream 'should've wrapped it up'

/awfuleverything is on hiatus until further notice from camp IAmA. Victoria was the Reddit AMA Rock and now she is no longer the Director of Talent within this beast. She was always such a good sport when dealing with Reddit and the sometimes seemingly overwhelming monster that is AMA questioning. This is for you, Victoria! **TL;DR:** Putting this bitch on lock down until further updates from the Reddit Camp on the status of Victoria, aka chooter. <3 <3 <3 <3
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2020.09.28 17:34 Dan_Tahlis 42M M4F NV looking for someone who is not into relationship games

At this stage in life, character respect and trust are the biggest things that matter to a successful relationship.
I got 2 outta 3 so I'm doing good! LoL
I'm a loyal type with a solid career, financial stability, a checkered past, and a willingness to grow and learn every day. Im not in the best of shape but I'm working on it and have made great progress in the last year. Living and eating healthier is something I intend keep doing. What I lack in looks I make up in self love and good conversation. I love to discuss and debate and I appreciate when someone can teach me a new thing or perspective, because if you cant learn and grow then your doing it wrong!
I enjoy getting out into nature, camping and seeing the glory of the world over the sights of the city. I love halloween, I love the spooky goth things in life but most wouldnt tell by looking at me. I'm not into tattoos on me, but I love art so I can certainly appricate it on others. I am a musical butterfly, but tend to prefer rock/punk/metal genres. Don't get me wrong, I listen for everything from classical to reggie, just not the biggest fan of rap.
I enjoy getting out and enjoying good times with friends but I'm happiest when I can spend my time together with someone. Just the two of us navigating the universe together. I am very physically affectionate but not big into overt PDAs.
Not looking for a cheap thrill or a an online relationship that goes nowhere. I want to be friends first, anything that comes after that is a bonus.
I'm looking for someone who's real, who isnt about playing games like we did when we were teenagers. Someone who's willing to put in their all and expects the same from their partner. I love a person for who they are, not necessarily what they look like, but obviously there has to be some attraction to make things work. Someone who's just as fine talking for hours as they are sitting in somber silence together. Be comfortable with who you are.
Sound like someone youd like to know more about? Shoot me a message.
submitted by Dan_Tahlis to R4R40Plus [link] [comments]


2020.09.28 15:47 sadgirl1184 35 [F4R] Anywhere - Talk to me, let's discuss life or something bonus points for music lovers

I'm a working, married mom of two teenagers. I'm looking for people to talk to so I can not feel so alone. I enjoy music especially rock and metal. Some of my current bands and singers I'm listening to are Falling in Reverse, I Prevail, Breaking Benjamin, Marylin Manon, No Nome Faces, Halestorm, Disturbed and Hollywood Undead. I listen to other types of music though and I'm always interested in suggestions. I love watching horror movies and I'm glad Halloween season is here becausethat usually means I have a selection to choose from. I also like camping, hiking, reading and writing poetry. If you're just going to send a message asking for pictures or with cheesy pickup lines... just don't lol.
submitted by sadgirl1184 to r4r [link] [comments]


2020.09.28 14:29 tacosily The Sun ☀️

I’m shocked that more people aren’t convinced it’s Demi!!! There was a Disney reference (Camp Rock), the obvious downfall and comeback, plus she has the radio version of Let It Go, which would explain the Frozen nod. And of course the powerful vocals - she’s sooooo talented!!!
submitted by tacosily to TheMaskedSinger [link] [comments]


2020.09.28 14:21 LordChozo Hindsight is 2020: #5 - One for the Vine

from Wind & Wuthering, 1976
Listen to it here!
Well here we are in the top five, and I’ve gotta say, these posts have gotten WAY out of hand. As the amount of source material piles up I feel a kind of compulsion to include it all, which is something of a double-edged sword. On the positive side it gives me a kind of guidance: seeing what the band has to say about the song might encourage me to think about something in a different way and provide an angle or direction to write about the song on the whole. When those roads are especially easy to see, I usually end up just going with the flow on them. Why fight it? But the downside is that when I let the material dictate where I’m going to go, I lose a bit of stylistic and topical flexibility.
I’ve tried over the course of this project to mix things up from time to time. Never enough to lose all sense of coherence, but experimenting with different styles has been one of my favorite parts of writing all of these, and frankly a little necessary to keep sane with the workload. Yet if you look at my wildest departures in style, they tend to happen most when I have limited research material to draw from. It’s creativity out of necessity in a way; how can I say something in an interesting way when nobody else is saying anything interesting to begin with? I like to refer to these diversions as “creative left turns,” and I cherish them.
So now at the end of this countdown and with plenty of source material to go around, I feel that this embarrassment of riches is trying to lead me towards a more or less straightforward song analysis with a smattering of well-interspersed quotes providing historical context. That is, after all, the bread and butter, the dominant archetype, the “main thing” of this whole endeavor. But I’ve done that. Many, many times have I done that. And so now I just feel this urge to take the creative left turn, abandon the research, and just write what I feel is right. I’m going to look at this song on my own terms, and talk about what I really want to instead. Straightforward analysis, I'm done with you.
So what is “One for the Vine” to me? Well, it’s fantasy literature, basically, except in song form. I’m an avid sci-fi/fantasy reader - whether that will surprise anyone at all I have no idea - but it’s by far my favorite genre. I’ll read all kinds of other things too, of course. Always happy to sit down with a well-written biography of an interesting individual, or some historical fiction, or whatever else might sound good at the time. But I always come back to fantasy, I think because fantasy can tell us very real things about the human condition even as it provides a temporary escape from that condition.
Take the novel The Eternal Champion by Michael Moorcock, for example. In this story a man is spiritually transported into the personage of an ancient hero, summoned to save humanity by defeating a race of invaders. But inside he knows that this isn’t his body, his world, or his fight. Is it really morally just for him to even get involved? Does he owe humanity his protection solely on the basis that he is also human? How does one even know what “right” is in this kind of confused situation? In the follow-up to this particular story, the poor sod is flung again into a different world, this time suddenly finding himself doing manual labor on a glacier. How do we, as people, deal with sudden changes to our routine? What does that say about us?
Tony: This guy suddenly finds himself in a snowy landscape and there’s a bit of that in [“One for the Vine”]. I’ve always liked science fantasy and fiction stuff and it’s got a bit of that in it. 1
See? It’s not just me. Fantasy asks those big questions - good fantasy does, at any rate - but it disguises them with magic and monsters and heroes and villains. And “One for the Vine” does this better than almost anything else. It’s just a song (albeit a ten minute song), but it’s one of my favorite fantasy stories of all time. I actually detailed my interpretation of that story last year in a comment on this very subreddit, so I’ll just link that here in case anyone is interested. But to maintain an ease of readability in this post, I’ll let Tony summarize.
Tony: The lyrical idea I got after I’d written all the melody. It tells the story of a guy who’s been tricked by fate into being the god he didn’t believe in [during] the first half of the song. It can have a very wide application to anyone who finds themselves doing something they didn’t believe in before. 2
In essence, you have what appears to be a good character taking a stand against something bad, and then there’s this compelling “fish out of water” sequence that sees him slowly becoming that same kind of “bad” thing he rebelled against. Self-awareness starts to creep in a bit, but by then the wheels are in motion and he can’t stop it, eventually coming full-circle to the same situation as the beginning of the song, but now from a different vantage point. It’s the cyclical nature of the story that’s so engrossing to me.
Tony: It’s about a person who becomes the thing he originally despised—a sort of messiah-like figure. At the end, he’s disillusioned with it, which is probably quite true in a lot of walks of life, particularly politics. 3
Tony’s lyrics read more like prose than poetry here. This is more ammunition for the “Tony will never be able to write a hit single” camp as well as the “Tony lyrics just don’t flow well in general” camp, but here we don’t need a hit and we don’t need catchy phrases. We don’t even need to use big, impressive words. We need the story to be clear and easy to follow, because the profundity comes not from any smaller piece of it but from the story in its entirety. Tony delivers on that masterfully here. But what really makes the story work so well is the way the music parallels the story itself.
Now, as mentioned, the lyrics here were written after the music. But they share the same spirit.
Tony: I’ve always liked writing music that doesn’t go where you think it will. Key changes and chords that you are not expecting in pop songs, without trying to make it too awkward. I’m a big fan of Brian Wilson who has always been able to use strange harmonies without realizing he’s doing it... We were trying to tell a story and never quite go back, only to that main starting point. I liked the cyclical nature of the story: the person in the end becomes the prophet he didn’t believe in and becomes disillusioned. 1
Exciting, right? Follow me through the song, if you will. Think about how the song starts and then about how it ends. You’ve got this piano/guitar call, followed by a piano-driven verse, and into a...well it’s not a chorus. It’s not even a pre-chorus. I guess verse isn’t even right anymore. Kind of just a section A, then section B. Then A, then B, then this really jolly middle section after them. I guess that’s C. Which abruptly ends with a cry of “No, no, no!” as we hit a section D, characterized by somber piano. Here we talk with the water and then with the vine: a moment of peace before the turmoil to come. The eye of the storm, you might say, of “One for the Vine”. And then that call again. It hearkens back to the beginning, because this is where the decision is made to relive the events that led to the beginning, even if that decision was made while drowning sorrows in wine. And then the imaginary mustering and horseback riding of the instrumental section E that follows: “If I go through with this, here’s what’s coming.” To arms, men! A full embrace of the role in a brief section F spelled by a variation on that signature call we’ve heard twice so far. And then there it is again. The turn of fate, fifty thousand fates sealed. And after traveling through so many sections, we land right back at A, and into B, as the snake begins to eat its own tail and the circle is closed. A section G to wrap a brilliant concluding bow on proceedings, and here’s that call, one last time. Only now it’s the piano by itself. No edge of guitar, no glint of steel. Just a claim, voiced quietly, for all to hear.
Steve: It works very well. 1
Big understatement from Steve there, but it occurs to me that things are beginning to head here towards musical analysis, which is specifically what I wanted to avoid. I wanted to just focus on the story of the thing and how powerful that is to me, but it feels like a story that can’t be told without the music, you know? I just wish I could think of another way to take this. My creative left turn is bending back to the right, frustratingly. I guess I need to brainstorm a little. How can I get my point across without resorting to the ho-hum standard yet again?
Maybe I can do a fake dialog? Or tell a personal tale of mine? Or even write a lyrical parody of some sort? No no no, I’ve done all that before, too. Maybe I can write a short story that serves as a stand-in for the song somehow, so that people reading the short story will really get what I’m trying to say about the song too? Like a piece of independent fiction, except that it ties back to this with hidden meanings. Hmm. Gives me a chance to really branch out with characters, plot, whatever else, but say something insightful about this other medium, too. That could be interesting. But man, it would take a long time. Longer than I think I have to get this done. And it’d be quite a stretch too; who would even gather that whatever random story is actually an analysis of a song from a 1976 Genesis album? What would even be the point?
And how do I talk about that up-tempo instrumental section adequately with any of those ideas? Because I almost have to say something about that one. Who decides to start a powerful instrumental bit with cowbells and a quacking duck? Why does it actually work exceedingly well? Why are these driving piano rock chord melodies so dang hot? Why is this groove at 5:26 so flawless? Are those tambourines sitting on vibrating hotel beds? If you told me Phil Collins was playing a rattlesnake on this section, I’d believe you.
Well...I guess it is what it is now. Come on guys, get in here. For better or worse, we’re talking music.
Mike: I think Wind & Wuthering is probably very much Tony’s album favorite. He was very much I think involved in the sound of that one. Probably the album he had the most influence in, actually. “One for the Vine”, “Afterglow”... 4
Phil: Pete and Tony were [combative with one another]. I mean, best of friends, but [combative]. And possibly with Peter having long gone by this point, Tony realizing that possibly...you know, he was able to sort of like mercury kind of spread out a little bit and get much more of him out. 4
Tony: Overall for me it is one of my favorite albums. I think that obviously “One For The Vine” and “Afterglow” for me are crucial moments in my own writing and they were realized quite well on that record… It was the most extreme album in many ways; the most difficult of our albums, if you like. But I don't really think it has a weak point on it for me. Some of the songs I like more than others, like taking the riff I had for “One For The Vine” and making something quite different of it. That was quite fun and I had never tried that before. 5
When you think about how expertly this song was crafted, how every section works magically within itself; how they all also work as part of a larger whole; how the sections themselves aren’t obviously musically related despite this; how they’re all arranged to create a compelling cyclical story...it’s pretty incredible. Fittingly, it took Tony quite a bit of time to work on.
Tony: That song had really taken me since A Trick of the Tail I’d sort of been working on that and honing it, and trying to get it right. 4
Recording for A Trick of the Tail wrapped in November 1975 and writing for Wind & Wuthering began in mid-1976, so we’re talking what, six or seven months of grinding away at “One for the Vine” until it was ten minutes of near perfection?
Tony: A piece like that is not to everybody’s taste. It is very structured music and requires every beat to be in the right place. 6
And then Tony shows up to the writing sessions with no idea what anyone else has to offer, but knowing he’s got the best of the lot.
Tony: When I played “One for the Vine” to the guys, it was kinda like, I just played the whole thing through with me sort of warbling on top, you know. And I don’t know what they thought at the end of that. I think they thought, “If we don’t do it, he’ll get so irritable [and] start throwing things that we’ll have to have a go at it.” So we just put it down in the studio. I just put the whole thing down with a piano and drums really. And then we sort of overdubbed everything else on top of it. And it was just faith, really at the end, that they stuck with me I think. Because I think it turned out good actually, and I think the contribution of all the others is really good as well. So I was quite pleased with that. 4
Temper tantrums or no, Tony was right to be unwilling to take no for an answer on this one. And he’s right to praise the other members’ contributions as well: it’s Tony’s song, but everyone shines. That’s probably why they didn’t offer much objection to playing it live. Which is a bit of surprise given just how dense the instrumentation is on the studio track.
Tony: We laid the whole thing down with piano, drums, and a simple bass part, and added everything else as overdubs. That was fun for me because it’s got loads and loads of keyboard overdubs, a whole orchestration of synthesizers and Mellotrons. 6
Keyboards on top of keyboards on top of keyboards on top of everyone else on top of everyone else. I don’t know how many sound channels they had available in the studio mixer, but I’m guessing they used them all. So doing it live inevitably meant some level of scaling down, but the live sound is still really, really good. So who knows. Maybe it’s just a little bit of fantasy magic.
Tony: This was during the stage in which I’d just play a whole song to the other guys as they were working on it. What we’d do is first put it down in the studio with just me and Phil. I’d sit down on the piano and Phil would be on drums. And then we’d do all the overdubbing on it. I think it turned out pretty good and it got better live. It would have been nice if we could have rehearsed it a bit more before recording it. But the way we did it gave everyone a chance to be a bit quirky, particularly with Phil’s drumming and Steve’s imaginative playing. I think Steve sounds really good doing all the little bits and pieces he does on it. The song was a bit like a mini-suite at 10 minutes with quite a strong, dramatic ending. 3
Well...this post certainly didn’t go the way I intended it to, but I suppose it went the way it always had to go in the end. And you know, that reminds me of something, I think...if only I could put my finger on what it was.
Let’s hear it from the band!
Tony: There was quite a lot of music written beforehand on this album, and I think when we had finished the album, the only thing that worried me a little bit was perhaps the album was...really quite a heavy album. A quite difficult album. But I mean, I like that, you see. I like an album to be challenging. It wasn’t an album that was gonna be liked the first time. Apart from possibly “Your Own Special Way”, virtually every other track requires quite a bit of listening to get into. But at that time I think we had people who were prepared to give us the time. 4
Mike: I get my kicks out of this album, really. There’s no central theme to it… “One for the Vine”...features Tony on piano. We’d tried it quite a few different ways in the studio until we settled on a ten minute piece based on acoustic piano. There are electric sections but it always comes back to the piano. 7
Tony: To me it’s the best thing I’ve written; certainly instrumentally it’s the most adventurous thing I’ve done. It’s an idea I’ve wanted to do for a long time of using a lot of instrumental ideas which flow from one [to] the other without repeating themselves. I went through all these series of ideas which climaxed in this triumphant kind of march. And a lyric to carry that mood with it. 2
1. Louder, 2017
2. NME, 1977
3. Innerviews, 2019
4. 2007 Box Set
5. The Waiting Room, 1994
6. Genesis: Chapter & Verse
7. Melody Maker, 1976
submitted by LordChozo to Genesis [link] [comments]


2020.09.28 10:35 squishyslinky How to use small square grate with wooden handles, no legs, on campfire?

I've car-camped most of my life (35) I've never camped at a site that didn't have a fire ring or a grate. I'm taking my friend for some dispersed, but still car camping this weekend and just realized I have no idea how to use this grate without a ring or big rocks. I remember trying to use it propped up on wood a few years ago but I was too dumb or too frustrated to make it work.

Any advice?
submitted by squishyslinky to CampingGear [link] [comments]


2020.09.28 10:22 Gdokim Stay Out Of The Water After 10 PM

Several months ago, I decided to go road-tripping through California after I was laid off (due to the recent Pandemic).
Fortunately for me, I had saved up some money and was able to buy myself a small but practical RV, which included a kitchen, a bathroom, and a large comfortable bed.
Anyway, It had always been a dream of mine to visit the National Parks in the U.S. after reading the book "Missing 411".
My first destination was going to be Yosemite National Park, where I had planned on staying for the whole month (with my two Huskies Daisy and Violet) in order to conduct my own investigation into several high profile missing person cases for a book I was writing.
I had forty more miles to go before reaching Yosemite so, I decided to find a place where I could park my RV for the night.
I was getting pretty tired and was in desperate need of sleep.
I drove around for an hour or so before I finally found a spot right next to a very secluded beach along the Pacific Coast Highway (which was not on the map) where I parked my RV.
I was used to stealth camping especially, at night as I did it several times before in order to save money and being a female, I always took precautions while traveling solo.
I always carried a weapon of some sort with me too, just in case I encountered some crazy person on the road.
Anyway, it was around 10 at night when I decided to take a walk along the beach in order to stretch my legs before going to bed.
I grabbed my flashlight and two huskies then set off for the beach.
Even with my flashlight on though, everything around me was still pitch black.
Walking along the edge of the beach, I could hear the waves crashing against the rocks that littered the shoreline.
As I continued my walk on the beach, I tripped on something nearly falling face-first into the sand.
Pointing my flashlight down, I noticed a tattered sleeping bag and various other camping gear scattered along the beach.
"What the hell?" I asked out loud.
Just then, I heard a woman's voice calling me from the water.
Followed by a loud splash causing both of my dogs to start growling.
"What is it, girls?" I asked my dogs.
I pointed my flashlight in the direction of the splash, and that's when I saw something bobbing up and down in the water.
The voice continued to call having a sort of weird hypnotic effect on me.
My instincts immediately kicked in when I realized it was a person (well, not exactly).
I removed my shoes and quickly jumped in.
As I swam towards the figure, I could hear Daisy and Violet barking near the shoreline.
I could still see the figure as I approached them but something felt off and I instinctively clutched at the pocket knife that I kept in my bra.
Then all of a sudden I heard an ear-piercing scream (reminding me of a mountain lion).
This stopped me dead in my tracks and so, I quickly turned around and swam breathlessly back to shore.
A few seconds later, when I looked back again I noticed the figure was now gone.
Just then, I felt something grab my leg pulling me underwater and causing searing pain in my whole body.
The hand was green and knarled with extremely long nails that reminded me of talons.
Fear kicked in as I tried to kick whatever it was that grabbed my leg, then I remembered my pocket knife...
I reached for it in my bra then brought it down hard on the creature's hand.
It let out a blood-curdling scream before finally, releasing my leg.
Once again, I swam back to shore where Daisy and Violet were still barking.
Once I was safely out of the water, I grabbed my two dogs and quickly ran to my RV.
I locked the door then jumped into the driver's seat then started the engine.
When I turned on the headlights though, I nearly shit my pants because you see inside the water was hundreds of glowing red eyes.
Needless to say, I didn't stick around long...
I never found out what it was I experienced that night and nor do I want to...
Anyway, just a warning to you weary travelers if you happen to stumble upon a beach late at night that's not on any map, stay out of the water or, you might not be so lucky.
submitted by Gdokim to nosleep [link] [comments]


2020.09.28 09:42 MicChiFRVR Build Contest #18 - Announcing the winners!

Build Contest #18 - Announcing the winners!

https://preview.redd.it/g2rikus99up51.png?width=1500&format=png&auto=webp&s=08e02e7e2a84e1b63b4b3e923a5676202467ab45
We're proud to announce the winners of the eighteenth contest, Into The Depths. It's been exciting to see your creations and we look forward to seeing more from you all!

1st place: Wolford's Mystery, created by TaciturnHornet & Artmis
http://worlds.frvr.com/w/86774
"A mysterious story once took place in a small town in Northern Europe. The name of this place was Wolford and the time was in the middle of the 19th century. As is still the case today, Wolford's economy was shaped by a certain geographic factor: the plateaus bordering the city harbored a vast amount of valuable resources, including gold, which everyone in Wolford sought. Numerous mines were excavated, equipment delivered and ores recovered. Why these incredible deposits of the valuable ore were not discovered earlier has long been a mystery, which the inhabitants of Wolford did not seem to care about. As if in a trance, miners dug in the hope of great wealth. They spent day and night underground. Sometimes they only saw their families for a few hours a week, and even then, their thoughts still seemed to be in the mine. It was said that the mines changed these men. One night, it was one of the nights when the men returned home, a miner noticed something at the bottom of a pit and he was left alone to track it down. It was the last time this man was seen. His name was Gerry Walker. He left a wife and two children who, however, lived with their grandparents. Wolford was no longer the same after Gerry Walker's disappearance. The excavations were not stopped against all reason, but still the people were afraid because nobody knew what might have happened to the miner. Strangely enough, the miners did not find a single clue to the whereabouts of their colleague at the bottom of the said pit. They quickly got back to work, trying to forget what had happened. Only a few of Mr. Walker's closest friends didn't give up hope and went in search of their friend...
This adventure map is about finding out what could have happened to Gerry Walker. You are Gerry’s closest friend and you collect clues that could provide information about the whereabouts of the family father.
Unfortunately, it is sometimes difficult to understand the plot because there is no form of communication in WORLDs, such as signs, text books or anything else. If this is added in the near future, I will revise the world. Anyway, many, many hours have flowed into this world and I hope you enjoy it. I worked on the history for a long time and think that it has some surprises in store for players. Never forget: Often the clue to what we are looking for is right under our feet. In the truest meaning of the word. Go deeper, look further and don’t be afraid to take risks!!"

2nd place: Heart of Flame by Player1
http://worlds.frvr.com/?w=69084
"A group of miners discovered a cave that leads deep down near the center of the earth. The miners believed that this is the lair of a ancient dragon that was trapped inside the cave. As the miners set up camp in this dangerous cave, the flames awaken and burned down bridges making it difficult for the miners to venture in the path of burning heart. "

3rd place: Maunati Island by Jertyuiop & jWho
http://worlds.frvr.com/w/85482
"A group of pirates ventured out into the vast ocean in search of Maunati, a mysterious island rumored to be full of gold and treasure. However, a rather peculiar entity guards the island and its treasures from deep within... "

4th place: Subterrane Ascension by Brayn & Seltzer
http://worlds.frvr.com/w/12031
"You are an explorer trying to get to all the wonders of the world when one day a mysterious earthquake occurred while you are exploring a seemingly normal & beautiful quarry. Lava has spurted out of every crease and strange plants grew out of nowhere. Your mission is to get out of the cave and get to your car before the cave completely collapses. Parkour your way out of it without your foot hitting the scorching lava, strange plants, & blazing hot rocks."

5th place: Nightcove by Linard
http://worlds.frvr.com/w/26094
"Nightcove is a small island in a hidden part of the ocean where nobody returned from yet. The legend says there are huge treasures inside the mountains of the island and the only entrance is through a haunted building. If you reach the end of the building, you gotta have faith and jump down the waterfalls. After that, go through the passageway and fight your way inside the skull entrance. "

Judges verdict:
We decided to award the 1st place to Wolford's Mystery as it features a vast and detailed world to explored filled with mysteries and details. Congratulations!

◆ Discord: https://discord.gg/BMThuQC
◆ Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/worldsfrv
◆ Twitter: https://twitter.com/worldsfrvr
◆ Wiki: https://www.reddit.com/WorldsFRVwiki

Happy building!
Michael, Community Manager,
Worlds FRVR
submitted by MicChiFRVR to WorldsFRVR [link] [comments]


2020.09.28 09:21 MadFranko008 List of Amiga Games That Run On The SNES Mini (Part 1)

Being a big Amiga fan (still use real Amigas everyday) then it's been interesting to see just what the SNES Mini could handle when it comes to Amiga games...
While it aint perfect I've been pleasantly surprised to find the large number of Amiga games you can add to the SNES Mini mainly thanks to KMFDM's work on his version the the PUAE extreme core...
In case anyone's perhaps wondering why I might be surprised to find so many games do work via the core then the answer to that is simple. PUAE has for years been left behind as far as emulation goes with little to no work being done with it and was always far from perfect. In recent times though those who have added it to be able to run on the SNES Mini have improved PUAE quite a bit to where it can now run many Amiga games and run them well...
Doubt they will ever get it working with all Amiga games running smoothly and at full speed for a number of reasons, main one being AGA emulation needs a more powerful processor than the SNES Mini has and the core/ emulator would need a huge overhaul. Also many Amiga games require input from a keyboard to play them properly and there are just not enough buttons on a SNES joypad you can assign to key-presses to be able to play those games properly (yes you could use the virtual key board but that's just no a reality in the middle of playing a game)...
Anywhoo, been installing and testing some of my favourite games on the SNES Mini using ".uae" & ".hdf" format files (much better than using ADF for a number of reasons) and the following is a list of some of the games I've installed so far that run smoothly and at full speed and importantly can easily be played using the standard SNES Mini controller be it wired or wireless...
(This is just the first part of the list and I started at games beginning with "Z" and working my way backwards through the alphabet and have only now reached the letter "N", takes a lot of time to convert all these games to the ".hdf" format then add them to the SNES Mini and set each game up so it runs at its best along with individual config files/ settings, so this is a work in progress but here's a list of a games so far that run at full speed on your SNES Mini and more importantly are fully playable with the SNES joypad/ controller)...
GAMES N:
Narc/ Nathan Neve Naughty Ones/ Navy Moves/ Navy Seals/ Nebulus/ Necronom/ Neighbours/ Netherworld / Neuronics/ Never Mind/ New York Warriors/ Nibby Nibble/ Nicky Boom/ Nicky Boom II/ Nigel Mansells Grad Prix/ Nigel Mansells World Championship/ Night Hunte Night Shift/ NightBreed/ NightDawn/ Ninja Mission (by Arcadia)/ Ninja Mission (by MasterTronic)/ Ninja Rabbits/ Ninja Spirit/ NinjaWarriors/ Nippon Safes Inc/ Nitro/ Nitro Boost Challenge/ No Buddies Land/ No Exit/ North & South/ Nova 9/ Nuclear Wa Nucleus/ The Never Ending Story II/ The New Zealand Story
GAMES O:
One Step Beyond/ Ooops Up/ Ork/ Osca Outrun/ Outrun Europa/ OverDrive/ The Oath
GAMES P:
A Prehistoric Tale/ Pac-Mania/ Pang/ Paperboy/ Paperboy 2/ Paradroid 90/ Paramax/ Parasol Stars/ Pegasus/ PGA European Tour Golf/ PGA Tour Golf/ Phalanx/ Phantom Fighte Phobia/ Peirre Le Chef - Out To Lunch/ Pink Panthe Pinkie/ Pipe Dream/ Pixie And Dixie/ Platoon/ Pod/ Popeye/ Popeye 2/ PowerDrive/ Predato Predator 2/ Prehistorik/ Prime Move Prince Of Persia/ Prison/ Project-X/ Project-X Special Edition/ Puffys Saga/ Purple Saturn Day/ Putty/ The Power
GAMES Q:
Q-Bic/ Quix/ Quak/ Quartz/ Quest Of Agravain
GAMES R:
Rackneys Island/ Raffles/ Rainbow Islands/ Rambo III/ Rebellion/ Revenge Of The Mutant Camels/ Rick Dangerous/ Rick Dangerous II/ Road Rash/ RoadWars/ RoboCop 2/ Rock N Roll/ Rod-Land/ Rogue Troope Rollerpede/ Rolling Ronny/ R-Type/ Rubicon/ Ruff n Tumble/ Ruffian/ Run The Gauntlet/ RVF Honda/ Ryga The Real Ghostbusters
GAMES S:
Saint Dragon/ Santas Xmas Cape Sarcophase Satan/ Scooby And Scrappy Doo/ Scorpio/ Scramble Spirits/ Second Samurai/ Sensible Golf/ Sensible World Of Socce Shadow Dance Shadow Of The Beast/ Shadow Of The Beast II/ Shadow Of The Beast III/ Shadow Warriors/ Shadowlands/ Shaq Fu/ Shufflepuck Cafe/ SideArms/ Sidewinde Sidewinder II/ Silk Worm/ Simon The Sorcere Sir Fred The Legend/ Ski Or Die/ Skidz/ Skrull/ Skull & CrossBones/ Skweek/ The Sentinel/ The Settlers/ The Seven Gates Of Jambala/ The Simpsons - Bart Vs The Space Mutants/ The Simpsons - Bart Vs The World/ SlackSkin & Flint/ Slaye Sleepwalke Slightly Magic/ Slip Stream/ Sly Spy Secret Agent/ Snapperazzi/ Snoopy And Peanuts/ Snow Bros/ Soccer Kid/ Soldier 2000/ Solid Gold/ Sonic Boom/ Sophellie/ Sorcerers Apprentice/ Sorcery Plus/ Space Ace/ Space Ace II/ Space Gun/ Space Harrie Space Harrier II/ Space Harrier III/ Space Race Speed Buggy/ Speedball/ Speedball 2/ Speedboat Assassins/ Spellfire The Sorcere Spherical Worlds/ Spikey In Transylvania/ Spindizzy Worlds/ Spitting Image/ Spy Vs Spy/ Spy Vs Spy II/ Spy Vs Spy III/ The Speris Legacy/ The Spy Who Loved Me/ Star Goose/ Star Wars/ Star Wars II - The Empire Strikes Back/ Star Wars III - Return Of The Jedi/ Starblaze/ Stardust/ Starglide Starians/ StarRay/ Starush/ Steel/ Steg The Slug/ Stormlord/ Street Rod/ Stride Strider II/ Stryx/ Suburban Commando/ Super C/ Super Cars/ Super Cars II/ Super Cauldron/ Super Hang-On/ Super Methane Bros/ Super Obliteration/ Super Seymore/ Super Ski/ Super Ski II/ Super Skweek/ Super Tennis Challenge/ Superfrog/ Superman/ Switchblade/ Switchblade II/ SWIV/ Swoope Sword/ Sword Of Honou Sword Of Sodan/ The Sword & The Rose
GAMES T:
Take Em Out/ Tanglewood/ T-Bird/ Tearaway Thomas/ Tech/ Technocop/ Teenage Mutant Hero Turtles/ Tennis Cup/ Tennis Cup II/ Terminator 2 Judgement Day/ Terminator 2 The Arcade Game/ Terramex/ Terry's Big Adventure/ Test Drive II/ The Telle The Three Stooges/ Thexde Thomas The Tank Engine 2/ Thunder Blade/ Thunder Burne Thunder Jaws/ ThunderBirds/ ThunderBoy/ ThunderCats/ ThunderStrike/ Tie-Break/ Tiger Road/ Time Bandit/ Time Scanne Time Soldie Tiny Skweeks/ Tiny Troops/ Titan/ Titanic Blinky/ Titus The Fox/ The Toyottes/ Toki/ Tom And The Ghost/ Tommy Gun/ Tony & Friends/ Toobin/ Top Banana/ Top Cat/ Top Secret/ TopGear 2/ Tornado Ground Attack/ Torvak The Warrio Total Recall/ Tournament Golf/ Tower Of Babel/ T-Race Trained Assassin/ Transartica/ Transplant/ Traps N Treasures/ Treasure Trap/ Trex Warrio Triple-X/ Troddlers/ Trog/ Turbo/ Turbo Cup/ Turbo OutRun/ Turbo Trax/ Turn N Burn/ Turrican/ Turrican 2/ Turrican 3/ Tuske Twin Turbos/ TwinWorld/ Twylyte/ Typhoon/ Typhoon Thompson
GAMES U:
The Ultimate Ride/ The Untouchables/ UFO Enemy Unknown/ Ugh!/ UNSquadron/ Under Pressure/ Uninvited/ Universal Warrio Universe/ Unreal/ Uridium 2/ USS John Young/ Utopia
GAMES V:
Vade Valhalla 1 - The Lord Of Ininity/ Valhalla 2 - Before The Wa Vampires Empire/ Vaxine/ VectorBall/ Vengeance Of Excalibu Venus The FlyTrap/ Victory Road/ VideoKid/ Violato ViroCop/ Virus/ Vital Light/ Vixen/ Viz/ Volfied/ Voodoo Nightmare/ Vroom/ Vype Vyrus
GAMES W:
The Wall/ The Way Of The Little Dragon/ Wacky Darts/ Wacky Races/ Walke Wally World/ Wanderer 3D/ Wanted/ War In Middle Earth/ War Machine/ Warlock The Avenge Warlocks Quest/ Warlords/ Warp/ Warzone (By Core Design)/ Warzone (By Paradox)/ Waxworks/ Ween - The Prophecy/ Weird Dreams/ Western Games/ Where Time Stood Still/ Whirligig/ Whizz/ Who Framed Roger Rabbit/ Wibble World Giddy/ Wicked/ Wild Streets/ Wild West World/ Wild Wheels/ Wind Surf Willy/ Window Wizard/ Wings/ Wings Of Death/ Wings Of Fury/ Winning Pot/ Winter Camp/ Winter Olympiad 88/ Wiz N Liz/ Wizards World/ Wizball/ Wizkid/ Wizmo/ Wolfchild/ Wolfpack/ Wonder Dog/ WonderBoy In Monsterland/ Woodys World/ World Class LeaderBoard/ Wrangle Wrath Of The Demon/ Wreckers
GAMES X:
Xenex/ Xenomorph/ Xenon/ Xenon 2/ Xenophobe/ Xiphos/ X-It/ X-Mas Time/ X-Out/ XR-35/ Xybots
GAMES Y:
Yo! Joe!/ Yogi Bear & Friends/ Yogis Big Clean Up/ Yogis Great Escape/ Yolanda
GAMES Z:
Zak McKracken/ Zany Golf/ Zarcan/ Zardoz/ Zaxxon/ Zero Gravity/ Ziriax/ Zombi/ Zombie Apocalypse/ Zombie Apocalypse II/ Zone Warrio Zool/ Zool 2/ Zoom/ Z-Out/ Zycronix/ Zynaps
Of all the above games more than 95% of them will run at full speed on your SNES Mini (25/ 30 fps) with no audio or visual glitches. Only a handful need to be run with a 1 or 2 frame drop in RetroArch to work and all will be fully playable with just a standard SNES Mini joypad...
Hope that info helps some of you if your adding Amiga games, so that you know which ones will work and work well, I'll add more to the list as I do them as there's still a long way to go yet (about another 6 or 7 hundred games at least I want to add)...
PS: If anyone wants to know the best RetroArch settings and configs to make for adding Amiga games then I'll post that info later so you can get the games running smoothly and at full speed... :-)
submitted by MadFranko008 to RockinTheClassics [link] [comments]


2020.09.28 08:29 death_and_rainbows28 The Godly Traitor

A familiar-looking hooded boy walked through the wreckage of the aftermath of the battle that took place there mere hours ago, with the same cruel smile on his face. The upper half of his face was concealed with the hood and a mask, behind him walked Felix, the world’s scariest eight year old. Felix looked around the battlefield with a delighted expression as he saw all the chaos left behind by the battle, but at the same time he actually felt a twinge of guilt seeing the corpses strewn across the battlefield, much to even his own surprise. The hooded boy seemed to have a displeased expression, he kicked one of the fallen Bellona warriors and spat at him

“Weak” he muttered and kept walking,l. Felix winced slightly and followed him, as they walked through the empty battlefield. Felix felt a strange sensation, a part of him almost felt bad for turning on his home and the few people he ‘tolerated’

“Now we have to plan our next move, all these people were nothing but pawns” the boy said coldly as he kicked another body

“Just pawns?" Felix asked, feeling mixed emotions about these people

“They were expendable, worthless stepping stones for the greater cause” the boy explained, not the slightest hint of guilt in his voice

“They died for you, doesn’t that make you feel even a little bad?” He asked incredulous, silently fidgeting his hands

“No, why should it? Their lives didn’t have any meaning” The boy said nonchalantly and kept walking

“No meaning?! So what does that make me? Another pawn still? Just someone you can walk all over until you're finished with your stupid plan?!" Felix growled, the boy looked back at him, a bit surprised

“You are useful to me, if you died this war wouldn't have gotten so chaotic. Anyway, since when did you care?" He spat, getting angry at how Felix was behaving

“I care because I could have been one of them, and you wouldn't have even blinked an eye" he growled

“Oh just shut up, when did you become so righteous?” The boy turned back and continued walking

“I won't shut up, and I'm not righteous! I just didn't realise what an asshole you were" Felix said, his tone threatening

The hooded man turned around sharply. He grabbed Felix by the throat. "If you ever talk to me like that again, I will make sorry. Do you understand me? Well do you?!"

Felix squirmed in his grip. His hands were getting tighter the more Felix struggled. Quicker than the boy could react, Felix had pulled out his dagger. He sank it deep into the guy's side, mere centimetres from any important organs. He gasped and let Felix go. Felix backed up a little.

"You stupid little shit" The man said, clutching his side. The survivors of the battle looked on cautiously, holding their breath, the boy groaned from blood loss and tried to fight as he slowly lost consciousness, but a part of him welcomed the peace, he slowly stopped fighting and let the darkness take him
"Sorry Laelia.... I let you down" he said quietly
Just a few moments after he passed out, he felt a powerful presence nearby wake him up, he weakly opened his eyes and looked up, standing over him was Bellona herself, the surviving campers fell back in astonishment at the goddess’s sudden appearance next to the hooded figure, she looked down at him pitifully

“You’ve failed me” she said coldly, not even looking bothered that he was dying

“Hello to you to god-y bitch” he rolled his eyes and coughed blood, Bellona narrowed her eyes and growled

“You dare talk to me like that you despicable-”

“Save me the death threat, I’m already dying” the boy laughed mirthlessly

“Oh but you aren’t, I can’t let my pawn die just like that” she smiled cruelly, his eyes widened

“You wouldn’t… AT LEAST ME DIE IN PEACE YOU BITCH!” He screamed at her

“Are you sure about that? I don’t think your friend here will be so happy about that” She kept
her smile and held out her palm, it seemed like a hologram appeared on it, in the scene, there was a girl, someone way too familiar to him was chained up, her strawberry blonde hair messy, her face covered in bruises and injuries, she looked at him right in the eyes

“Ha-” Before she could say anything, Bellona shut her palm, ending the vision
“Laelia?!” His eyes widened with shock “I thought she-”
“Died? Oh after I saw how close you two had gotten I decided to keep her spirit before it reached the underworld, incase you ever went rogue” She said, looking down at him coldly, she had been thinking two steps ahead of him

“You bitch… LET HER GO!” He shouted at her
“First, you must complete the task I gave you, then maybe I’ll let your girlfriend pass on peacefully”
The boy was still in shock from what he saw, a tear dripped from his eye
“I-I’ll do whatever you want, just let Laelia go..” he said, in tears now
“Just like I thought, you mortals disgust me" Bellona looked down at him with clear disgust in her eyes, she touched him, his wound closed almost immediately, he gasped as the pain disappeared, Bellona looked like touching him had dirtied her, a red glow spread from wear she touched him, surrounding him in a red aura, he looked around frantically
"What did you do to me?!"
"I have you some of my strength, someone as weak as you can't possibly do anything to help me" she wiped her hand, the boy felt energy surge through him, he felt like he was going to explode
"So this is what it's like being a god" he muttered
"Stupid mortal, this is but a modicum of my energy" she scoffed, the boy got up, a sadistic grin spread across his face as he felt the godly energy course through him, he couldn't control it right now but it was getting to his head

He slowly lifted his hood, not needing to himself anymore, he had curly brown hair and pitch black eyes, the boy was none other than Harrius Mendax, the new boy who was in the second cohort, who had disappeared since the war started, he didn't look so weak and scrawny anymore, power emanated from his body, he turned to Felix, who was now backing away in fear
He turned to Felix, who was now backing away in fear.
"You little shit" He grinned sadistically. "You almost killed me"

Felix back away even more. "Don't you dare come near me or I'll stab you again"

Harry laughed. "Didn't you just see what happens when you attack me? You won't be able to do shit. But I will"

He brandished his dagger at Felix, who had stopped moving now. Felix tried to square up to Harry a little bit, locking his eyes stubbornly with him. The on-lookers watched with fear. Harry's new powers meant the worst was still yet to come. They watched as Felix stepped closer to him.

"Bite me" He said, choking down his fear.

Harry grinned. "Oh, I will"

He grabbed Felix's hair and yanked his head back, baring his throat. His dagger penetrated the skin on Felix's neck, but not deep enough to kill him. This was a warning to everyone who watched. But as Harry got distracted looking at the disgusted faces of his next victims, Felix managed to kick his feet where it hurt. Harry let him go.

"That's it you little bastard, you're finished now." He lunged at Felix, who backed up out of his grip, but fell down. He hit his head on a large rock, which made him nauseous and unable to defend himself properly now. He had a concussion.*

Harry advanced still, seething with rage. He unsheathed his shortsword and trusted it Felix's way, who had only just stood up. It was enough to unbalance Felix again, but not enough to hurt him. Felix struggled to not fall over again when Harry booted the back of his right knee. He kicked Felix's face and slapped him a few times with the side of his blade just to humiliate him.

However the crowd was becoming restless and angry now. They began to advance so Harry decided to end it. He picked Felix up like a ragdoll, barely able to open his now black eyes. He stood him up and punched him straight in the chest, using the powers Bellona had given him. Felix went flying, almost dead now. His eyes were shut and his breathing weak. Felix was now comatose in the middle of the Field.

But no-one layed him much attention. They were all focused on Harrius Mendax, closing in on him now...
Harry stared at Felix's limp body as it flew through the air and crashed into the dirt, with a sadistic and somewhat insane grin, looking satisfied ,his eyes glinted with overconfidence, which was totally justified in this situation, he looked at camp and raised his hands, it looked as if he was inviting them to approach him, he let out a maniacal laughter, echoing through the battlefield, the power was getting to his head, and understandably so, with that amount of power he had surpassed demigod level, he raised his sword, keeping his dagger in the other hand and bellowed

"What are you waiting for you cowards?! COME FIGHT ME!" His voice washed through the field, plunging fear into the hearts of those there, he lowered his sword and looked around for whoever was foolish enough to try to fight him in his near godlike state right now, still grinning with an insane look on his face
[OOC Warning: Well, the identity of the traitor has been revealed finally. if you send your character at him they will lose, Harry is almost nearing godlike power right now, so if you're not cool with that we'd suggest you skip this]
submitted by death_and_rainbows28 to Camp_Jupiter [link] [comments]


2020.09.28 08:02 tlocken Ironman, Dobinsons, or other

Was looking at the ironman pro foam set up, for my 2010 460, the rig will be used mostly for overlanding with a trailer, but I would like to be able to tackle any terrain I come across, and be able to wheel her while camping maybe a little Rock crawling as well. Would they be up to the job or should I look at Dobinsons MRR, or better I don't want to break the bank (I like sleeping in my bed not the couch)
submitted by tlocken to GXOR [link] [comments]


2020.09.28 07:50 fritzys_paradigm My current justification for the Fossilizers' role in Kingdom (headcannon)

So I've been trying in my own headcannon to justify Fossilizers' role in the Beast Wars. They feel too distinct to be generic grunts and don't really fit in with either faction. Here's my current headspace:
They're clearly a new faction of their own. A cluster of protoform pods veered off course and landed in a deep rock crevice, the only substantial creatures they had to scan were the fossils in the bone bed around them. With their damaged sensors, they could not detect the war going on above ground, and with their damaged memory banks they were unclear on their purpose and a little more brutish than your average bot, so they made their base camp in an underground cave system before emerging to explore.
They start as a neutral faction, only to splinter and choses sides after no small amount of Predacon scheming. Allies of circumstance rather than actual Maximals or Predacons.
submitted by fritzys_paradigm to transformers [link] [comments]


2020.09.28 07:37 TheMaskOfReality DM Breaks Nearly Every Rule Of How Not To End Up In RPG Horror Stories, But Apparently I’m The Bad Guy. Part 1? (Apologies for my original attempt.)

This is going to be my first time properly sitting down and typing out this story in it’s entirety so please bear with me as I attempt to explain what happened. I suppose I should start by saying that I had met the DM initially through a friend and had him as a player wherein he had varying levels of success with his characters which I personally believe sheds a little bit of a light on some of the actions he will commit going forward against his own players. We quickly became close friends and over time I began to see signs of less than desirable behaviors wherein all manner of games were concerned. He really didn’t like losing and would often throw tantrums if he lost to the point that I felt the need to apologize for him on several different occasions.
Eventually he came to me and proposed making his own homebrew D&D setting which he boasted was going to be a serious Rome inspired sandbox where we could go anywhere we pleased. He pitched the whole thing as the party fighting back an invading force of foreigners from the north. However, what we received in reality fell short of every promise he had made. Without going into too much excruciating detail allow me to summarize the issues with the actual development of this campaign before we get into the adventure proper. The map itself while certainly not the worst I have ever seen was a bit of a mess resembling Florida if you turned it into a clawed gauntlet, the thumb of which was bedazzled by a land presumably covered in massive crystal like structures which the DM to this day still has no idea what to do with. So far as I know he never actually gave it a purpose or actually considered it beyond it looking neat. The naming conventions he used for towns and cities was mostly fine but there were a few hiccups as I recall like Merfempol, named such because according to him there were mermaids that lived nearby but specifically only female ones. Personally, I think it sounds pretty tacky. Finally we come to the lore doc which itself lacked much in the way of lore at all instead seeming to consist of a very general statement about the main continent which by itself wasn’t bad and finally a list of gods unique to this setting. The gods are a fucking mess to say the least. I’ll go over the ones I remember off the top of my head briefly here. The first god on the list was Twil, a painfully obvious reference to the My Little Pony character Twilight in that not only is Twil a god of magic and knowledge but their holy symbol is literally just Twilight’s cutie mark from the show. That shit is embarrassing. Moving on we have Tongualingus, pronounced like cunalingus, because why not. Let me remind you that this campaign is supposed to be serious according to the DM. Next up we have Luto, a god of trickery and bards. His name as you have probably realized is just the word lute with the e changed to an o. The DM confirmed that this was intentional and I reflexively rolled my eyes at him. There were a few others whose names I can’t quite remember but were remarkably better and considerably more original as far as I could tell at a glance so I’ll leave them out. The real stand out however was the so called Mother Of Monsters who was described to me in private as being a unnaturally tall dark skinned woman with the head of a bull and an equine penis with multiple heads like an echidna. Yes, you heard me right. For some reason the DM in describing this goddess to me decided that it was information I need to know. Now to his credit however I don’t think he ever disclosed that to any of the other players.
Now as for the setup with the party he wanted to do four players minimum with a 32 to point buy and a maximum of 18 purchasable points in any given stat before racial modifiers. I tried to dissuade him from this as he was only a first time DM and besides myself we were going to have one other veteran player who though generally a great player also tends towards power gaming to an extreme at points and minmaxing which can prove quite a hurdle for new DMs. He proceeded to brag that his plan was fool proof and practically dared me to try and make something he couldn’t handle. So I did, albeit only after having several other characters rejected on the grounds that he didn’t know how to integrate them into the story... which as I would later find out was his way of saying that they didn’t have any immediate loved ones he could kidnap or kill for cheap story drama.
The party that we ended up going with consisted of myself and three other players, two of which were entirely new to D&D while as I stated above the rest of us were veterans of 3.5 and 5e. The other veteran of the group played a goliath ranger who had little in the way of remarkable personality but was overall a fine character. I believe his backstory was something like he had been a farmer turned forest guide or something but I could be misremembering. The other two players were a couple out of character but played their characters as having never met. The first was the half-elf bard whom as I recall was a local celebrity in game and a bit of a ditz. She played her character spectacularly and was a general delight in every session. Her boyfriend on the other hand played a half-drow rouge who lived in the sewers with his dog, Potato. He was also pretty great, though it was clear early on that he didn’t know how to play a rogue. He got considerably better though. Finally I played a 600+ year old eladrin fighter who specialized in archery. In game she was a war hero and local legend who had gone into retirement. Now I know snippets of the other character’s backstories but mine was considerably extensive and even held reference to my backup character should something happen to my current one. That is to say I discussed this backstory with DM at length making sure he was fine with everything, and explicitly pointed out that there was a backup character built in should it be required. I say this now because near the end of our friendship I was accused of never writing a backstory and giving the DM nothing to work with. Even Ranger’s player who memory opposite of an elephant called the DM our on this obvious bullshit.
DM insisted on a session zero to which I protested saying “They’re going to forget everything single thing you told them before session one and at least two of them won’t have character sheets.” Sure enough session one rolls around and I and Bard are the only one with completed character sheets while I remain the only player who remembers any of what was explained in session zero. Pretty typical. This is why you should take notes.
So into the story proper we open up at the capital city wherein we are to meet with the Empress’ council about a job. So we each individually head to the palace and everything is pretty great role playing wise. I’ll give DM credit where it’s due, he excels at describing areas and such and generally role plays very well as a DM. I’d even say in some regards he does a better job than I do at that. Suffice to say I was impressed with his performance with this being his first time and had really high hopes for the adventure ahead. So we meet the empress’ aides in this fancy lounge area and here we learn two distinctly odd things. First, the empress’ name is Zoe, as in Zoey. I couldn’t help but audibly snicker at this when the DM mentioned it which got me a glare. As an aside it took me literally a few seconds to find the baby name list he was using to name characters. It was literally the first listing for Roman names on google. Second, all of the important people including Empress Zoey had an anime eske streak of vibrant color in their hair that was meant to signify their rank. I’m happy to say I wasn’t the only person rolling my eyes at that. We’re told by the aides that apparently people have been disappearing on their way through the jungle to the north which is part of an important trade route. We’re told that we need to investigate at which point the Empress arrives and tells us what our specific roles are to be in this endeavor. Bard was given the job of being the groups diplomat. Rogue didn’t get a role really because as will become apparent later on his character is practically a civilian. In fact, I genuinely forget why his character was hired for the job. It’s not in my notes, which tells me it was probably never mentioned. Ranger was hired on as a guide for the group, and finally I was meant to protect the party on their travels. I would like to pause for a moment and preface what is about to be said with the fact that I had told DM early on that I wanted more of a background role as I wanted to give our new players a chance to really shine and come into their own so to speak. So as we’re leaving the palace Zoey pulls me aside and decides to be like “Oh hey, you that guy from your backstory that you were like totally in love with and who is currently taking care of your child... yeah well we sent him up there too and now he’s missing along with your son.” So I roll my eyes and let it slide while the session is going on. I’m really not a big fan of cheap drama like this, it’s lazy and though it can be done right I still have a general distaste for it. Anyways I talked to DM about it later and after some fussing on his part he relented and retconned it since that was my backup character and it was a stupid unnecessary plot hook. As he described it, I simply didn’t have any motivation to do the adventure otherwise which I don’t need to tell you I’d fucking stupid. Back to session one, we leave the palace and head out of town after hitting up a few shops and bonding, oh and we picked up a sacrifice to burn outside of the jungle to appease the forest goddess. Eventually night falls around the time that we reach an elevated quarry where we decide to camp out. I decide to take the high ground up on the hill to keep watch as DM describes obvious rock monsters disguising themselves as weird looking boulders. At this point Rogue had left to go to work leaving us a party of three but DM seemingly doesn’t change the encounter to reflect that and instead makes even more of them as combat begins populating them right next to me even though they hadn’t been there a moment before. To be clear he went out of his way last minute to print up extra tokens because he didn’t like that I was trying to gain a tactical advantage by being on elevated terrain where no monsters were. It’s not even like we didn’t know the rocks were monsters. In character we were all like “Probably rock monsters.” And the ones that populated around me didn’t even burrow their way up from the ground or something it was just like “They were there the whole time” which I and the rest of the party called him out on considering the rocks had been specifically marked on the map and I wasn’t anywhere remotely close to them. Anyways we kill the rock people and RP that Rogue slept through it. That’s about were session one ends. Though we did get DM to admit that he had been unfair on purpose.
Session two picks up with us leaving the quarry and heading for the mouth of the jungle which takes a whole day in which time I and Ranger decide we need to hunt down a better sacrifice for the forest goddess because she’s a notorious bitch and all Zoey gave us was a fox. We kill a buck I think and settle for using that and eventually night falls again. We set up camp around a big tree and start a fire. I climb up into the tree and make myself comfortable as again I plan to keep watch. Eventually I notice bandits coming out of the trees, around 8 of them and a 9th who is clearly the leader. The 8 stay back while the leader approaches our camp and tells us to hand over our stuff. Ranger tells him no, Bard wants to negotiate, and Rogue is worried about the safety of his dog. Meanwhile I’ve had my bow trained on this dumb fuck since I spotted him and am sufficiently stealthed, holding my action to shoot him if he tries anything. The bandit leader goes to whistle for his men and I shoot him in the shoulder before he can. DM tells us to roll initiative and I get the highest by a wide margin as my dex is 20. Most of us beat the bandits in initiative and I shoot the leader again for good measure only for my teammates to literally do nothing with their turns because they want to try talking it out... even though I’m being shot at now by bandits. Most of the bandits miss meaning it takes all 8 to put me down at which point I fall behind the tree unconscious whereupon Ranger comes to heal me a little. So I use my fey step to teleport into a nearby tent as the bandits didn’t see where I fell. I then wait while the rest of the party fails to negotiate with the bandits leading to the rogue stabbing the bandit leader in the stomach, the bandit leader stabbing him back and then another bandit shooting rogue in the back and effectively dropping him. At which point I roll out of the tent and shoot the leader taking him down and then roll back into the tent and use my Second Wind to get back some health. Mind you we’re all just level 2. So Ranger and Bard start fighting a single bandit and they’re doing poorly due to rolls. Meanwhile three bandits converge on the tent I’m in a start slashing at it with disadvantage giving me the chance to switch out my bow for two shortswords and murder two of them using my action surge. Ranger and Bard handle their boy and move onto another and this continues until their all dead or escaped and in that time I got dropped again. It was pretty fun despite the bullshit early on. So later on that session after doing our sacrifice we enter the jungle with Ranger leading the way and me pulling up the rear in case of an ambush. Instead of attacking Ranger or literally anyone else in front of me the giant snake that we somehow didn’t see despite Rogue’s 18 perception roll decides to attack me, which we later found out was because DM personally thought I was the biggest threat. Anyways we fight the thing and kill it with Rogue having his first and only moment of glory upon critting a crossbow attack and shooting it in the eye. So later that session we come across an old rotted log blocking the path and I with my 20 dex do a flip over it like a boss which makes DM visibly upset. Bard thinks this is cool as she in character is impressed with and fascinated by the much older elf and tries to replicate this only to fail miserably and break the log open with her hand causing several swarms of bugs to attack. So I use my grappling hook to get high into the trees and invite Rogue to follow me to safety after checking to make sure nothing was up there but DM once again pulls his bullshit and decides I’m actually standing right next to a poisonous snake. This time I didn’t even get a chance to call him out as Ranger and Rogue have my back and eventually DM relents and begrudgingly apologizes. That was the end of session 2 and only the beginning of the tree saga.
Session 3 begins with the revelation that I can use acrobatics and stealth together in the trees and just mitigate DMs bullshit by being a Naruto ninja. So I start doing that much to DMs frustration. We eventually come across a odd salesman with a cart and an owl. I immediately recognize him as one of DMs OCs that he’s constantly crowing about and choose not to engage unless a fight breaks out, instead relegating myself to staying in stealth up in the trees while the party tries to interrogate this weird man who we all suspect is secretly a necromancer because DM doesn’t know what subtle means. Things go uneventfully though and they camp with the guy while I watch Rogue try to rob him. The next day however we start seeing webs everywhere and eventually happen upon a fey spider and his two giant spider cohorts which weirdly is the first time negotiation has worked in this campaign. Bard and I convince him we’ll send him people to feed on later and book it out of there. DM however seems to think that this means the fey spider bested us... anyways we have a few more encounters but nothing of note and we reach level three.
At this point just before session 4 DM has made it clear to me that he doesn’t like me using the trees and claims in private that we bullied him into not putting creatures in the trees to which I explained that putting things in the trees is fine, it’s the fact that they just pop into existence without warning. He continues to be fussy and I refuse to leave the trees on principal at this point... though it also just really fits with how my character would fight anyways, she’s practically a Vietnam war vet if they fought like the Vietnamese, think Big Boss meets Pocahontas. So anyways the party comes to a big river and we decide to take a break here, RP a bit and enjoy the nature, but DM wants to be a dick. So, one thing I haven’t gotten really into yet is Rogue’s terrible luck. He is in many ways who I would consider the main character of the story as he functions as a rather average put upon everyman thrust into this fantastical adventure. A perfect audience surrogate if one wanted to tell this story from a first person view I’d think. Anyways, he has extremely low hp even by Rogue standards and thusly gets downed quickly in every, single, fight, without fail. This specific encounter would start the running gag that he’s just a civilian. So what happened is I was about to swan dive into the deep river from a high branch but Rogue goes in first while Bard and Ranger are cooking. I stop my action to see what happens to Rogue first and DM clearly gets upset and tries to argue that I can’t take it back now even though I had only suggested that it’s what I was thinking of doing. Everyone again comes to my defense thankfully resulting in Rogue getting one shot and dragged under by a water weird. I fire off an arrow and hit it while shouting to my party “Something’s dragged him under!” DM tried to argue that they wouldn’t know what I was talking about since they had been focusing on cooking and immediately everyone jumps on him again about his bullshit. Long story short Ranger dives in after him and Bard and I pelt the creature with arrows and bolts through the water until he’s too far resulting in my first trick shot. I jumped from the branch bow in hand and aim firing right before I would hit the water, killing the water weird, and then using fey step to immediately teleport to the shore without ever getting wet. We saved Rogue and I was back up in my tree before he was even conscious. We never told him I helped. DM was livid of course and his face showed it. Some other encounters happened after that but I really don’t remember much of them because they paled by comparison to the horror of the ThanksIHateItPit.
submitted by TheMaskOfReality to rpghorrorstories [link] [comments]


2020.09.28 05:28 bigmann1981 39 [M4F] Just nerdy romantic at heart gaming homebody looking for the same.

About Me:
Hi, I am 39 currently residing in Texas, single. I am more of an introvert than anything, I am romantic, affectionate, I tend to wear my heart on my sleeve more than I should. I am sentimental and I am a real hopeless romantic at heart. I like to play board/video games as well as binge-watch shows and movies. I like to go window shopping as well as to the park and lake sometimes and enjoy getting out of the house from time to time but prefer to stay home most days. I love anything from Arts Drawings, paintings, abstracts, 3d graphics. Crafts (More of do it yourself type of crafts.)
I love going to flea markets as well as yard sales, museums, fairs, and amusement parks. I love music of all types from oldies to alternative to today's pop/rock. I love history and learning about history, especially from the medieval era. I also love to go camping and fishing as well as archery and many other things.
I care more about who a person is, rather than what they look like or weigh or what health issues they have. I care more about how I click with the person and what we have in common and the persons personality.
What I Am Looking For:
Someone who is single or divorced, not married, not separated, not in an open relationship or attached but is single and in the USA. Someone who I can eventually settle down with. Be romantic with. who enjoys gaming either it be card games, board games, video games, or just binge watch movies or tv shows. who enjoys the flea markets, parks, lakes, long road trips to nowhere. enjoys slow dancing and snuggling. Someone who is serious and wants to eventually live together and be a real couple. Someone to grow old with and to have a long lasting relationship with.
I would love to find someone to wake up in the morning her in my arms, me sneak out of bed, make breakfast for her. Someone to go to the park, lake or just sit around the house play card/board games or do arts and crafts with and if she had kids we do that stuff as a family. I would love to have someone to be romantic with and have nights under the night sky with champagne, candles, roses, and her in my arms. I would love to find someone to celebrate birthdays, anniversaries and holidays together. To have that companionship, closeness, togetherness with someone.
This is me, https://i.imgur.com/DbRLWkz.png
submitted by bigmann1981 to ForeverAloneDating [link] [comments]


2020.09.28 05:28 bigmann1981 39 [M4F] Just nerdy romantic at heart gaming homebody looking for the same.

About Me:
Hi, I am 39 currently residing in Texas, single. I am more of an introvert than anything, I am romantic, affectionate, I tend to wear my heart on my sleeve more than I should. I am sentimental and I am a real hopeless romantic at heart. I like to play board/video games as well as binge-watch shows and movies. I like to go window shopping as well as to the park and lake sometimes and enjoy getting out of the house from time to time but prefer to stay home most days. I love anything from Arts Drawings, paintings, abstracts, 3d graphics. Crafts (More of do it yourself type of crafts.)
I love going to flea markets as well as yard sales, museums, fairs, and amusement parks. I love music of all types from oldies to alternative to today's pop/rock. I love history and learning about history, especially from the medieval era. I also love to go camping and fishing as well as archery and many other things.
I care more about who a person is, rather than what they look like or weigh or what health issues they have. I care more about how I click with the person and what we have in common and the persons personality.
What I Am Looking For:
Someone who is single or divorced, not married, not separated, not in an open relationship or attached but is single and in the USA. Someone who I can eventually settle down with. Be romantic with. who enjoys gaming either it be card games, board games, video games, or just binge watch movies or tv shows. who enjoys the flea markets, parks, lakes, long road trips to nowhere. enjoys slow dancing and snuggling. Someone who is serious and wants to eventually live together and be a real couple. Someone to grow old with and to have a long lasting relationship with.
I would love to find someone to wake up in the morning her in my arms, me sneak out of bed, make breakfast for her. Someone to go to the park, lake or just sit around the house play card/board games or do arts and crafts with and if she had kids we do that stuff as a family. I would love to have someone to be romantic with and have nights under the night sky with champagne, candles, roses, and her in my arms. I would love to find someone to celebrate birthdays, anniversaries and holidays together. To have that companionship, closeness, togetherness with someone.
This is me, https://i.imgur.com/DbRLWkz.png
submitted by bigmann1981 to R4R30Plus [link] [comments]


2020.09.28 05:12 Puma1994 What is a job that an animal crossing lover (me) would enjoy?

I find that I can easily spend multiple hours a day customizing and designing the various aspects of the island experience on animal crossing?
Initial thoughts on a job that would fit? If you’ve got the time more details below!
Here is some relevant info about me!
-At the beginning of August I had a serious rock climbing accident and likely won’t be recovered and walking until the middle of 2021.
-My education background is counseling and religion and I have a masters . I’d prefer not to go back for a full degree, but a semester or two of education/ training would be feasible.
-Routesetting is my former profession and I love it( Hopefully will be doing it again one day. The creativity of making rock climbing problems is a great pay off)
-I have experience as a camp director, youth minister, and in office administration
  • I enjoy making signage and simplistic design but have a 2015 MacBook and no real experience with PS or publisher.
That’s all the info about me. Any ideas you guys have would be appreciated!
submitted by Puma1994 to AnimalCrossing [link] [comments]


2020.09.28 05:08 Jjustingraham War Bride (Part Six)

I heard from Agent Smith.
I'm going to see him tonight, and I'll catch you up soon; for now, I'll continue with Lil's words.
***
I don't know how long I slept, I only knew that when I'd woken up enough times to remember where I was, I was on a truck.
A rough blanket lined the floor where I lay, and I was tied down to the seats. I freaked out and tried to move, before a hand rested on my chest.
A woman I didn't recognize, eyes shining like prehistoric eggs against sun blackened skin, gently tapped me and shook her finger, then began to untie the ropes. I realized they'd tied me down so I wouldn't roll as the truck moved. The others watched me like ghosts, eyes suspended in the dark.
The sky looked like it had died; filled with ash from great columns of flame and black smoke, the sunlight diffusing through painted the landscape in a feeble yellow and orange and green. I didn't know where we were.
The truck was filled with the same women and children and thin, ailing men. All prisoners.
It felt as though we drove for days, it might have been weeks, it might have been hours. People vomited and urinated where we sat. When we did stop for breaks, the same people were forced to scrub the seats and floors of the truck before we continued.
We arrived at [REDACTED] sometime in [REDACTED]. It was the same setup as before - a landscape swathed in carnage - a nondescript apartment building, multiple families jammed into a single space.
The room I was in didn't have an exterior wall, so every shift of the wind was amplified to a shrieking whistle, and the floor felt alternated between ice and hot coals. I didn't get a bed this time, just a spot on the floor and a thin bag with whatever possessions I had and time. I was left to rot.
I didn't need anyone to tell me that my stomach was empty. I layed there, developing bedsores, the corners of bones pressing against my skin, relief and grief pooling together in my mind.
The snow began to pile up on the ground as temperatures plummeted even during the day. We were moved to another room after one woman, two days after being mauled by several fighters while I lay less than fifteen feet away, just didn't wake up in the morning. I was told she froze to death.
The new room was even smaller and even more cramped, people sleeping two or three to a bed roll. A doctor had been to see me a few times, I think he was a POW too, a Syrian, and spoke enough English to teach me a little bit of Arabic. He told me his name was Ismail. He talked. About his wife, his children, the life he’d had “before.” It had been good.
“I had a life that was meaningful. You learn to live in fear, because war here, it never ends. Whether your enemies are from another country, or at home, you never know. So you know how to suffer, but you learn as well. You learn to endure. You learn to find meaning in life, as God had intended you to find it. You see beauty in life even when it may not be obvious, but with His Grace, you find it.”
When he found out I had lost the baby he folded his hands on top of my stomach and said " From Allah we are born, and to Allah we return," and prayed with me.
I hadn't needed anyone to tell me that my stomach was empty. It just was, a simple fact that didn't alter anything else in any way. My bones, thinner and sharper, pressed into my skin at crazy angles, distracting me from the pain of absence. I didn't want to be a mom, I didn't want to bring a child into this situation. I didn't want his child. But it ached just the same. I don’t think praying helped me, in a spiritual way. I’d never been religious - not as a kid when Mom and Dad made my sister and I go to Church and Sunday school - but it did feel good to think of things hopefully. To have some kind of hope.
The next time I saw Youssef, it was clear that something had changed. It’s hard to explain it, since I’d seen so many sides of his personality in such a short time - kind and loving, cold and distant, violent and spiteful, filled with anger and hatred, filled with fear. I hadn’t seen him since the miscarriage - before we left [REDACTED], at least, I think it was [REDACTED]. I didn’t recognize him when he stepped into my room, pulled me up, and dragged me to the hospital. He didn’t speak - I wondered if he had even recognized who I was. His face was covered in heavy scarring, the skin thicker than I remembered, beard growing crazilly, the hair poking between folds and scabs like reeds hiding behind stones.
I couldn’t walk well. My hips felt like a wreck and my stomach didn’t support my back. I hadn’t gotten much exercise to help me recover, so he basically hauled me bodily towards one of their trucks, several fighters seated in the open back. He lifted me up and some of them grabbed me with careless hands and pulled me on as if I were a small girl. Their faces, all of them, were grim carvings in blocks of wood. Youssef hopped on the back as somewhere the Adhan played in the distance. One of them hit the back of the truck and the driver pulled away.
Youssef looked out into the rapidly dying sunlight, his face almost exaggeratedly turned away from me, like it hurt him to look at me. I looked from him to his gun, that was wedged between our legs, and looked at the others. I remember Dad teaching us how to shoot when we were younger, but I couldn’t make heads or tails of how the guns worked. I fantasized about grabbing one and emptying it into all of them, then jumping into the darkness and running away, but like daydreams do, the thought just subsided.
We arrived at the hospital camp and Youssef hopped down, then grabbed me from one of the men before slinging his gun across his back. It was so jarring, knowing him as he was, he looked like a little boy playing Rambo. Knowing who he was now, I just loathed him.
The hospital was in the remains of an older one - I could see MSF signs riddled with bullets and smudged with fire - Doctors Without Borders. There were gaping holes in the sides of the building and it looked like the roof had caved in. My legs began to shake - the whole thing could come down at any moment. He pulled me inside.
The smell hit immediately - bodily waste and the metallic sting of blood. When you’re around enough of it, it coats your throat and your nostrils and your mouth with that oily film - you can’t ever bathe enough to get it out. The hospital looked like it had been taken floor by floor - gore and peeling paint flecked every surface.
We entered a courtyard that looked like it had been knocked out of the center of the building, merging it into a smaller courtyard that had originally been built in. I looked up and could hardly see the sky through the clouds of flies. It was nauseating, but Youssef continued to pull me along, until he finally could show me what he wanted me to see.
It was Ismail. A noose ran tight around his neck, his face bloated, eyes and tongue popping out, swinging gently in the breeze. Youssef pointed at him with disdain.
“Do not forget, you are a married woman.”
\***
I was put to work as a nurse, answering to some of the other Doctors, who were also POWs. One was an American, I think, his skin was so blotchy and red, his grey hair falling out in clumps, eyes wild with exhaustion. I didn’t speak to him. He must have been there for a long time because he spoke Arabic fluently, and directed everything with this wiry energy.
I spoke to almost no one besides taking orders. The prioritized were the fighters injured in fighting or training exercises. If we had medicine, they were the ones who got it. If we were running short on water, they were the ones who got it. There weren’t many POWs, I think, because they never made it to hospitals. I worked there every day. At night, Youssef would try to take me.
By this point, I just let him, because I didn’t care. It was macabre, how we had shared this trauma and never spoke about it. Never even acknowledged it. I knew he was trying to get me pregnant again, because it didn’t look like he enjoyed what he was doing, not like before, when he seemed to take pleasure in hurting me. Now, it was automatic, it reminded me of The Handmaid’s Tale, which we had to read in highschool. I laughed at how the sex in that book was so weirdly portrayed. Sex with Youssef before had been this powerful, emotional connection that felt amazing. Now we were just two strangers slamming into each other.
The bigger issue for him was that...I don’t think he could actually do it anymore. He couldn't get hard, it frustrated him, and he got even more out of it. When he was hard enough to put it in, he couldn't finish. After a while he developed this bizzarre routine - he would chant, trying to psych himself up, sometimes, I'm not sure, pray? Hit himself, yell, call out other women's names, but nothing seemed to work.
Eventually his anger towards me came back. He belittled me, cursed me out. Told me I was useless, a lousy lay, a waste. He got more aggressive, trying to hurt me, but none of it really mattered. In a perverse way, I began to look forward to it. I had nothing, no agency, no control. But I could control what I gave him. And I gave him absolutely nothing.
That night he was high, I think he figured that would help. It did, because he was hard, but I refused to acknowledge him, refused to let my body react in pain or pleasure. I was determined, even when he ripped my hijab off and grabbed fistfuls of my hair and pulled my head towards his, reeking of sweat and piss.
"Your sister was a better fuck."
My mind went blank. I hardly spoke, so when I did, my jaw groaned and my tongue felt swollen and sweaty.
"What?"
He continued, digging his fingers into my throat.
"Melanie was a better screw. We had to put a pillow over her face so you wouldn't hear her squeal."
"You're a liar."
He giggled.
"We used to fuck whenever you were at class late, whenever you slept in on weekends, whenever her stupid boyfriend was out of the house. I would make her scream…"
My mind faded as he kept on. He was lying. How couldn't he be? He was saying it to psych himself up, to make himself feel like a man. He wasn't a man. He was a fucking liar.
His body shook and grunted - an ugly, throaty sound - as he came.
\***
I didn't get pregnant again right away. But bragging about his affair with Mel seemed to reinvigorate him. He began to take other slaves, and relayed to me how much better they were than I was. I don't know if any of them gave him a child, if they did he didn't say, but it seemed to become an obsession for him. To knock me up again. To make me give him a child.
Spring came, then summer decayed into fall, then the war came back, and that's when everything changed.
It was gradual, at first. There was a buildup in the number of fighters and their families. From the apartment, the other slaves and I could see columns of jeeps and trucks and vans headed towards the city center, where I knew they stored most of the weaponry and some of the higher value POWs, like the doctors, or people they wanted to ransom.
Soon, the apartments began to get way too crowded, so a lot of the women, including me, were relocated to the cliffs. Caves were carved out of the rock overlooking the sea. It startled me, momentarily, to think of their being a body of water this big that the town overlooked. The endless flat, baked land eventually becomes fixed in your mind's eye and it's hard to see past that perception. It was beautiful and serene in a way I don't remember having ever experienced. I'd never left Minnesota growing up, had never been traveling before, so to see that was a shock to my system.
The caves themselves had clearly been wired for people to live in for a long time. The fighters who relocated us and were stationed there had cellphone signals and WiFi, but those caves were off limits to us. I was hidden away in a larger cave filled with no less than thirty women and children - there was, basically, no personal or private room. And when the kids were taken away for their mandatory education every morning, a curtain of silence draped over everyone. Nobody talked, nobody emoted. We were always under their eye. I almost looked forward to going to the hospital to work. The only upside is that I rarely saw Youssef then.
The explosions rocked us out of our sleep one night. They were distant, the city was maybe five or ten miles away from us, so I figured that's what the bombers were targeting. The guards wouldn't let us out of the cave to see, but you could see how the inky, utterly black night sky lit up as though a giant phosphorescent lamp turned on. I felt like a deer in awe of headlights right before the car slammed into it.
The hospital volunteers were roused and picked up that night, including myself. As always, we were herded onto one of those small, windowless vans that became suffocatingly hot with everyone in close quarters. When we arrived, the hospital was alive with shrieks and moans and cries. Several buildings I remembered from before no longer existed, and the roads were choked with rubble, so the driver had to take a different route to get there. I didn't have much time to think on that - as soon as we got off we were herded into the main courtyard and put to work. Washing the blood off stumps, bandaging, restraining victims.
One wing was dedicated to the dead. In their tradition, the bodies are ceremonially washed before burial, allowing the family to say goodbye. What struck me, as much as anything, was how many fighters were kids, younger than I was before I got here. I wondered if they had any family - living or dead - who would want to be here, preparing them for the grave.
I was tasked with filling water basins and heating them over campfire stoves so that other fighters acting as attendants could clean the bodies. It was such a dissonant feeling - seeing these guys constantly acting macho and aggressive and violent treating their fallen with such morbid intimacy. I didn't know how to process that.
There was a steady stream of wounded and dead filling into the hospital throughout the night. I don't know how many times I made the trip to get water from the sump pit in the basement, but after a while the fighter watching me vanished, I think, to be of more use somewhere else. I only noticed his absence after carrying another basin up another flight of steps. My back was screaming, my knobby knees swollen and shaking, I had to stop to catch my breath, when I realized he wasn't at the top of the stairs, waiting for me.
He must have been called away for something, and clearly didn't care enough about me to keep watch. Having lost so much weight had hollowed out my face and flattened my body, and I had noticed that the men rarely looked at me with any interest anymore. Maybe that new won anonymity gave me this chance.
I knew they would notice if I didn't show up with the fresh basin, so I hoisted it up as I had been, and delivered it to the men washing the bodies, soapy bloodied water sinking into my socks. I gave a small nod and went back towards the basement. None of them looked my way.
The guard still wasn't there.
There was no way out of the basement. It was a hole. The only way out of the building that I knew was the way I came in, and if I went that way I'd be walking into the command station; there had to be another way out.
I briskly walked past the stairs headed to the basement down the darkened corridor ahead. There was no electricity, so all the electric and kerosene lamps were collected in the courtyard to light the work during the night. The corridor ahead was dark, a yawning throat. I lost my sense of sight in the black and had to feel along the cement walls as they snaked, terrified I would end up back where I started.
My heart started hammering when I heard voices up ahead in Arabic, and I stopped. There were two - a man and a woman. One of them was wracked with pain and fear. I was terrified, it must have been a fighter abusing one of the slaves. I had to help her - I couldn't let him ruin her. But if I tried to help, I would surely be executed, even if I weren't executed for wandering off. I wasn't pregnant now, there was no way anyone would advocate for my life. I inched forward, trying to hear them better -
"Please help me, I can't. It's too much, the pain. I cannot take it anymore."
That voice was male, and it sounded familiar.
"What do you have, to give?"
The second voice sounded like slimy, wet, like a fork being dragged through mud. I felt lightheaded and my ears started to itch, I held the wall with one hand and scratched my ears with the other. I could feel my heartbeat in my fingertips…
"By Allah, I will do anything."
There was a long silence as the man began to weep. The voices had to be close, they felt like they were just around the corner.
"I do not see anything worth giving. But yet…"
My neck and face began to grow cold as every hair on my body stood up. I could feel the wisps of air I breathed out crystallizing like a winter morning, the heat of that briefly warming my skin.
"A life, for a life."
"What?"
"Your soul is corrupted. It is sick, black, abominable. It is nothing to gift. Yet, your life, that is very precious. And it is all that I would want."
I slowly poked my head around the corner and saw two shadowy figures standing in the low depression of an Exit. Fuck. It was the only way out.
Everything felt cold. The walls glinted with frost even in the absence of light, no, there was some, something green and faint.
I slipped back around the corner. There was nowhere to go. If the figures came back this way, they would see me. They would have to exit if I had any chance of leaving myself.
And the cold...it was intolerable. I shoved my hand into my mouth to stop my teeth from chattering and giving me away.
"What do you say?"
The voice sounded like a low shriek in my head; I almost jumped, I swear it sounded as if it came from right next to me. I could taste my blood in my mouth.
"Please, Mother, forgive me."
For a moment it felt as if all the sound in the world had been sucked out of it, and then a low wailing scream, muffled by a hand, and an awful tearing sound, like a bear tearing into an elk.
The scream roared in my head and I dropped to my knees, pressing my bloodied hand over my ear, closing my eyes, it felt like my brain was going to explode.
The pressure abated suddenly, and there was no noise. The temperature started to creep up, my breath didn't fog up anymore. I stared at my hands, and felt something running from my nose. Snot and blood.
Then the sound. A wet crunch and slurp, echoing around me. Standing up, I could see the cold green light glimmering still on the walls, even as the frost melted, and the illumination died.
What the fuck happened?
I learned around the corner.
It was her.
She was standing there, over the man who had been guarding me. His body looked desiccated, as if he had been dead a thousand years, his tongue lolled limply as he stared back towards me from his back. His chest had been split open, and she was standing there hungrily, pulling out his innards and smearing them over her face. Not even eating them. Bathing in them. Her eyes were alive with a green fire.
She looked at me.
submitted by Jjustingraham to Write_Right [link] [comments]


2020.09.28 05:07 Jjustingraham War Bride (Part Six)

I heard from Agent Smith.
I'm going to see him tonight, and I'll catch you up soon; for now, I'll continue with Lil's words.
***
I don't know how long I slept, I only knew that when I'd woken up enough times to remember where I was, I was on a truck.
A rough blanket lined the floor where I lay, and I was tied down to the seats. I freaked out and tried to move, before a hand rested on my chest.
A woman I didn't recognize, eyes shining like prehistoric eggs against sun blackened skin, gently tapped me and shook her finger, then began to untie the ropes. I realized they'd tied me down so I wouldn't roll as the truck moved. The others watched me like ghosts, eyes suspended in the dark.
The sky looked like it had died; filled with ash from great columns of flame and black smoke, the sunlight diffusing through painted the landscape in a feeble yellow and orange and green. I didn't know where we were.
The truck was filled with the same women and children and thin, ailing men. All prisoners.
It felt as though we drove for days, it might have been weeks, it might have been hours. People vomited and urinated where we sat. When we did stop for breaks, the same people were forced to scrub the seats and floors of the truck before we continued.
We arrived at [REDACTED] sometime in [REDACTED]. It was the same setup as before - a landscape swathed in carnage - a nondescript apartment building, multiple families jammed into a single space.
The room I was in didn't have an exterior wall, so every shift of the wind was amplified to a shrieking whistle, and the floor felt alternated between ice and hot coals. I didn't get a bed this time, just a spot on the floor and a thin bag with whatever possessions I had and time. I was left to rot.
I didn't need anyone to tell me that my stomach was empty. I layed there, developing bedsores, the corners of bones pressing against my skin, relief and grief pooling together in my mind.
The snow began to pile up on the ground as temperatures plummeted even during the day. We were moved to another room after one woman, two days after being mauled by several fighters while I lay less than fifteen feet away, just didn't wake up in the morning. I was told she froze to death.
The new room was even smaller and even more cramped, people sleeping two or three to a bed roll. A doctor had been to see me a few times, I think he was a POW too, a Syrian, and spoke enough English to teach me a little bit of Arabic. He told me his name was Ismail. He talked. About his wife, his children, the life he’d had “before.” It had been good.
“I had a life that was meaningful. You learn to live in fear, because war here, it never ends. Whether your enemies are from another country, or at home, you never know. So you know how to suffer, but you learn as well. You learn to endure. You learn to find meaning in life, as God had intended you to find it. You see beauty in life even when it may not be obvious, but with His Grace, you find it.”
When he found out I had lost the baby he folded his hands on top of my stomach and said " From Allah we are born, and to Allah we return," and prayed with me.
I hadn't needed anyone to tell me that my stomach was empty. It just was, a simple fact that didn't alter anything else in any way. My bones, thinner and sharper, pressed into my skin at crazy angles, distracting me from the pain of absence. I didn't want to be a mom, I didn't want to bring a child into this situation. I didn't want his child. But it ached just the same. I don’t think praying helped me, in a spiritual way. I’d never been religious - not as a kid when Mom and Dad made my sister and I go to Church and Sunday school - but it did feel good to think of things hopefully. To have some kind of hope.
The next time I saw Youssef, it was clear that something had changed. It’s hard to explain it, since I’d seen so many sides of his personality in such a short time - kind and loving, cold and distant, violent and spiteful, filled with anger and hatred, filled with fear. I hadn’t seen him since the miscarriage - before we left [REDACTED], at least, I think it was [REDACTED]. I didn’t recognize him when he stepped into my room, pulled me up, and dragged me to the hospital. He didn’t speak - I wondered if he had even recognized who I was. His face was covered in heavy scarring, the skin thicker than I remembered, beard growing crazilly, the hair poking between folds and scabs like reeds hiding behind stones.
I couldn’t walk well. My hips felt like a wreck and my stomach didn’t support my back. I hadn’t gotten much exercise to help me recover, so he basically hauled me bodily towards one of their trucks, several fighters seated in the open back. He lifted me up and some of them grabbed me with careless hands and pulled me on as if I were a small girl. Their faces, all of them, were grim carvings in blocks of wood. Youssef hopped on the back as somewhere the Adhan played in the distance. One of them hit the back of the truck and the driver pulled away.
Youssef looked out into the rapidly dying sunlight, his face almost exaggeratedly turned away from me, like it hurt him to look at me. I looked from him to his gun, that was wedged between our legs, and looked at the others. I remember Dad teaching us how to shoot when we were younger, but I couldn’t make heads or tails of how the guns worked. I fantasized about grabbing one and emptying it into all of them, then jumping into the darkness and running away, but like daydreams do, the thought just subsided.
We arrived at the hospital camp and Youssef hopped down, then grabbed me from one of the men before slinging his gun across his back. It was so jarring, knowing him as he was, he looked like a little boy playing Rambo. Knowing who he was now, I just loathed him.
The hospital was in the remains of an older one - I could see MSF signs riddled with bullets and smudged with fire - Doctors Without Borders. There were gaping holes in the sides of the building and it looked like the roof had caved in. My legs began to shake - the whole thing could come down at any moment. He pulled me inside.
The smell hit immediately - bodily waste and the metallic sting of blood. When you’re around enough of it, it coats your throat and your nostrils and your mouth with that oily film - you can’t ever bathe enough to get it out. The hospital looked like it had been taken floor by floor - gore and peeling paint flecked every surface.
We entered a courtyard that looked like it had been knocked out of the center of the building, merging it into a smaller courtyard that had originally been built in. I looked up and could hardly see the sky through the clouds of flies. It was nauseating, but Youssef continued to pull me along, until he finally could show me what he wanted me to see.
It was Ismail. A noose ran tight around his neck, his face bloated, eyes and tongue popping out, swinging gently in the breeze. Youssef pointed at him with disdain.
“Do not forget, you are a married woman.”
\***
I was put to work as a nurse, answering to some of the other Doctors, who were also POWs. One was an American, I think, his skin was so blotchy and red, his grey hair falling out in clumps, eyes wild with exhaustion. I didn’t speak to him. He must have been there for a long time because he spoke Arabic fluently, and directed everything with this wiry energy.
I spoke to almost no one besides taking orders. The prioritized were the fighters injured in fighting or training exercises. If we had medicine, they were the ones who got it. If we were running short on water, they were the ones who got it. There weren’t many POWs, I think, because they never made it to hospitals. I worked there every day. At night, Youssef would try to take me.
By this point, I just let him, because I didn’t care. It was macabre, how we had shared this trauma and never spoke about it. Never even acknowledged it. I knew he was trying to get me pregnant again, because it didn’t look like he enjoyed what he was doing, not like before, when he seemed to take pleasure in hurting me. Now, it was automatic, it reminded me of The Handmaid’s Tale, which we had to read in highschool. I laughed at how the sex in that book was so weirdly portrayed. Sex with Youssef before had been this powerful, emotional connection that felt amazing. Now we were just two strangers slamming into each other.
The bigger issue for him was that...I don’t think he could actually do it anymore. He couldn't get hard, it frustrated him, and he got even more out of it. When he was hard enough to put it in, he couldn't finish. After a while he developed this bizzarre routine - he would chant, trying to psych himself up, sometimes, I'm not sure, pray? Hit himself, yell, call out other women's names, but nothing seemed to work.
Eventually his anger towards me came back. He belittled me, cursed me out. Told me I was useless, a lousy lay, a waste. He got more aggressive, trying to hurt me, but none of it really mattered. In a perverse way, I began to look forward to it. I had nothing, no agency, no control. But I could control what I gave him. And I gave him absolutely nothing.
That night he was high, I think he figured that would help. It did, because he was hard, but I refused to acknowledge him, refused to let my body react in pain or pleasure. I was determined, even when he ripped my hijab off and grabbed fistfuls of my hair and pulled my head towards his, reeking of sweat and piss.
"Your sister was a better fuck."
My mind went blank. I hardly spoke, so when I did, my jaw groaned and my tongue felt swollen and sweaty.
"What?"
He continued, digging his fingers into my throat.
"Melanie was a better screw. We had to put a pillow over her face so you wouldn't hear her squeal."
"You're a liar."
He giggled.
"We used to fuck whenever you were at class late, whenever you slept in on weekends, whenever her stupid boyfriend was out of the house. I would make her scream…"
My mind faded as he kept on. He was lying. How couldn't he be? He was saying it to psych himself up, to make himself feel like a man. He wasn't a man. He was a fucking liar.
His body shook and grunted - an ugly, throaty sound - as he came.
\***
I didn't get pregnant again right away. But bragging about his affair with Mel seemed to reinvigorate him. He began to take other slaves, and relayed to me how much better they were than I was. I don't know if any of them gave him a child, if they did he didn't say, but it seemed to become an obsession for him. To knock me up again. To make me give him a child.
Spring came, then summer decayed into fall, then the war came back, and that's when everything changed.
It was gradual, at first. There was a buildup in the number of fighters and their families. From the apartment, the other slaves and I could see columns of jeeps and trucks and vans headed towards the city center, where I knew they stored most of the weaponry and some of the higher value POWs, like the doctors, or people they wanted to ransom.
Soon, the apartments began to get way too crowded, so a lot of the women, including me, were relocated to the cliffs. Caves were carved out of the rock overlooking the sea. It startled me, momentarily, to think of their being a body of water this big that the town overlooked. The endless flat, baked land eventually becomes fixed in your mind's eye and it's hard to see past that perception. It was beautiful and serene in a way I don't remember having ever experienced. I'd never left Minnesota growing up, had never been traveling before, so to see that was a shock to my system.
The caves themselves had clearly been wired for people to live in for a long time. The fighters who relocated us and were stationed there had cellphone signals and WiFi, but those caves were off limits to us. I was hidden away in a larger cave filled with no less than thirty women and children - there was, basically, no personal or private room. And when the kids were taken away for their mandatory education every morning, a curtain of silence draped over everyone. Nobody talked, nobody emoted. We were always under their eye. I almost looked forward to going to the hospital to work. The only upside is that I rarely saw Youssef then.
The explosions rocked us out of our sleep one night. They were distant, the city was maybe five or ten miles away from us, so I figured that's what the bombers were targeting. The guards wouldn't let us out of the cave to see, but you could see how the inky, utterly black night sky lit up as though a giant phosphorescent lamp turned on. I felt like a deer in awe of headlights right before the car slammed into it.
The hospital volunteers were roused and picked up that night, including myself. As always, we were herded onto one of those small, windowless vans that became suffocatingly hot with everyone in close quarters. When we arrived, the hospital was alive with shrieks and moans and cries. Several buildings I remembered from before no longer existed, and the roads were choked with rubble, so the driver had to take a different route to get there. I didn't have much time to think on that - as soon as we got off we were herded into the main courtyard and put to work. Washing the blood off stumps, bandaging, restraining victims.
One wing was dedicated to the dead. In their tradition, the bodies are ceremonially washed before burial, allowing the family to say goodbye. What struck me, as much as anything, was how many fighters were kids, younger than I was before I got here. I wondered if they had any family - living or dead - who would want to be here, preparing them for the grave.
I was tasked with filling water basins and heating them over campfire stoves so that other fighters acting as attendants could clean the bodies. It was such a dissonant feeling - seeing these guys constantly acting macho and aggressive and violent treating their fallen with such morbid intimacy. I didn't know how to process that.
There was a steady stream of wounded and dead filling into the hospital throughout the night. I don't know how many times I made the trip to get water from the sump pit in the basement, but after a while the fighter watching me vanished, I think, to be of more use somewhere else. I only noticed his absence after carrying another basin up another flight of steps. My back was screaming, my knobby knees swollen and shaking, I had to stop to catch my breath, when I realized he wasn't at the top of the stairs, waiting for me.
He must have been called away for something, and clearly didn't care enough about me to keep watch. Having lost so much weight had hollowed out my face and flattened my body, and I had noticed that the men rarely looked at me with any interest anymore. Maybe that new won anonymity gave me this chance.
I knew they would notice if I didn't show up with the fresh basin, so I hoisted it up as I had been, and delivered it to the men washing the bodies, soapy bloodied water sinking into my socks. I gave a small nod and went back towards the basement. None of them looked my way.
The guard still wasn't there.
There was no way out of the basement. It was a hole. The only way out of the building that I knew was the way I came in, and if I went that way I'd be walking into the command station; there had to be another way out.
I briskly walked past the stairs headed to the basement down the darkened corridor ahead. There was no electricity, so all the electric and kerosene lamps were collected in the courtyard to light the work during the night. The corridor ahead was dark, a yawning throat. I lost my sense of sight in the black and had to feel along the cement walls as they snaked, terrified I would end up back where I started.
My heart started hammering when I heard voices up ahead in Arabic, and I stopped. There were two - a man and a woman. One of them was wracked with pain and fear. I was terrified, it must have been a fighter abusing one of the slaves. I had to help her - I couldn't let him ruin her. But if I tried to help, I would surely be executed, even if I weren't executed for wandering off. I wasn't pregnant now, there was no way anyone would advocate for my life. I inched forward, trying to hear them better -
"Please help me, I can't. It's too much, the pain. I cannot take it anymore."
That voice was male, and it sounded familiar.
"What do you have, to give?"
The second voice sounded like slimy, wet, like a fork being dragged through mud. I felt lightheaded and my ears started to itch, I held the wall with one hand and scratched my ears with the other. I could feel my heartbeat in my fingertips…
"By Allah, I will do anything."
There was a long silence as the man began to weep. The voices had to be close, they felt like they were just around the corner.
"I do not see anything worth giving. But yet…"
My neck and face began to grow cold as every hair on my body stood up. I could feel the wisps of air I breathed out crystallizing like a winter morning, the heat of that briefly warming my skin.
"A life, for a life."
"What?"
"Your soul is corrupted. It is sick, black, abominable. It is nothing to gift. Yet, your life, that is very precious. And it is all that I would want."
I slowly poked my head around the corner and saw two shadowy figures standing in the low depression of an Exit. Fuck. It was the only way out.
Everything felt cold. The walls glinted with frost even in the absence of light, no, there was some, something green and faint.
I slipped back around the corner. There was nowhere to go. If the figures came back this way, they would see me. They would have to exit if I had any chance of leaving myself.
And the cold...it was intolerable. I shoved my hand into my mouth to stop my teeth from chattering and giving me away.
"What do you say?"
The voice sounded like a low shriek in my head; I almost jumped, I swear it sounded as if it came from right next to me. I could taste my blood in my mouth.
"Please, Mother, forgive me."
For a moment it felt as if all the sound in the world had been sucked out of it, and then a low wailing scream, muffled by a hand, and an awful tearing sound, like a bear tearing into an elk.
The scream roared in my head and I dropped to my knees, pressing my bloodied hand over my ear, closing my eyes, it felt like my brain was going to explode.
The pressure abated suddenly, and there was no noise. The temperature started to creep up, my breath didn't fog up anymore. I stared at my hands, and felt something running from my nose. Snot and blood.
Then the sound. A wet crunch and slurp, echoing around me. Standing up, I could see the cold green light glimmering still on the walls, even as the frost melted, and the illumination died.
What the fuck happened?
I learned around the corner.
It was her.
She was standing there, over the man who had been guarding me. His body looked desiccated, as if he had been dead a thousand years, his tongue lolled limply as he stared back towards me from his back. His chest had been split open, and she was standing there hungrily, pulling out his innards and smearing them over her face. Not even eating them. Bathing in them. Her eyes were alive with a green fire.
She looked at me.
submitted by Jjustingraham to Odd_directions [link] [comments]


2020.09.28 04:15 TeamWinchester How do I deal with an abusive but still loving parent?

I'm dealing with some issues and I'm not sure how to process all of this and I am hoping that someone here may have advice or even just be able to let me know I'm not completely nuts. This is going to be a long one so please bear with me, I have a lifetime of background to cover.
Also, let me preface this with, we are fairly certain my mom has undiagnosed mental issues (Bi-polar, depression, and other). She has been put on anti-depressants before but got off them because she claimed they made her feel nothing and has refused to take any more and has refused to acknowledge that she may have mental health issues. She has also made threats that she was going to kill herself because of things I or my dad have done (she hasn't made any real attempt and we are fairly certain it's just her trying to get her way).
Ok so now the background info:
I wouldn’t say I have an unhappy childhood, and that is what makes this all the more difficult and confusing, My parents always encouraged me to try things that interested me and would often buy toys and other things I wanted regularly. However, when it came to my mom, I was very strictly controlled by what she wanted or deemed suitable behaviour (I.E. doing what she said when she said and no deviation from that). And this goes beyond the normal you need to behave sort of thing. Any time I did or said anything she did not approve of (for example I asked to have a sleepover at a friends house) she would lose her shit, yelling and screaming, and claiming I was a horrible child because I was disrespecting her and talking back to her. This would then result in the rest of the day her coming into my room and “upping the ante” by yelling more and imposing more restrictions (I should point out that my parent’s never hit me as a punishment it was always just restrictions or having things taken away) because she wasn’t getting the reaction she wanted out of me. This was always a big thing with her if I did not react the way she wanted me to she would make things worse and worse until I did what she wanted. The problem was she never gave me an indication of what she wanted. Now as an adult I realise through the benefit of hindsight that she wanted me to be a completely obedient and contrite mess. The pattern generally followed her grounding me from TV and computer access, followed about 20 minutes later by grounding from phone privileges, then 30 minutes after that, I was banned from reading anything other than school work (I loved reading fiction books so that was a big one for me), then it would be the amount of time I was grounded would be upped a few times from a week to sometimes 6 months (I would like to point out she NEVER stuck with any of this so they were mostly hollow threats that would only last a few days) After that is when she would tell me I was disrespectful, ungrateful, and that I clearly wasn’t deserving of all the things my parents did for me. The final threat which generally got me to be a sobbing, contrite wreak of a human, would be that she was going to get rid of my pets and have them sent to the shelter to be euthanized because I didn’t deserve them. This always got the reaction she wanted. I would like to point out all of this would take place over the course of a few hours and in-between I would just be sitting on my bed crying.
When she wasn’t pissed at me though, life was generally great. I was happy when she was happy, so I have spent my whole life trying to keep her happy by bending over backwards to do and say whatever it takes to keep her happy. I’m a grown adult in my 30’s and I’m still doing this even after moving out I’m still arranging my life to keep her happy and it is starting to have a severe negative impact on my life and my relationship.
As I got older and moved out of my parent’s house it quickly became clear that my mother was not letting go at all. I would have to talk to her every day for several hours and answer the phone whenever she called or else. The or else was generally a series of texts and voicemails that got increasingly dramatic and angry until she gave up and called the cops to report me missing. This of course resulted in many issues and intense anxiety. I love with my phone practically glued to my side because I live in fear of missing a call or a text from her. I’m in my 30’s and I still have to tell her where I am going and what I am doing because if I don’t let her know I’m going to a movie and she tries to call, buy the time I get out of the cinema she will be on the warpath. I forgot my phone one day at home when running an errand, I was going to be gone a grand total of 3 hours and by the time I realised it was too late to turn back. I wound up skipping several errands that I was going to do and just grab the necessities I needed and rushed home all while having a panic attack because I wouldn’t be able to answer if she called (Spoiler… She did not).
I also avoid making plans with people around holidays because I have to be able to call her on the holiday (Mother’s Day, Christmas, Her birthday) and if I don’t it turns into an argument that lasts for days because I am disrespectful, and don’t care for her. A perfect example of this was one year in undergrad I was studying for 2 exams I had back to back the next day (Bio-chem and anatomy) and it was her birthday. I had planned on calling her around dinner time, but I lost track of time while studying. I got a call from her at 10 pm which basically went, “Just wanted to call and thank you SO MUCH for taking the time to wish me a happy birthday. Obviously, your life is so much more important” she then hung up on me. I would like to point out I had sent her a card, posted happy birthday on FB and texted here happy birthday when I woke up in the morning. I then called her back and an argument commenced where she basically claimed that I was ungrateful and didn’t love her and was the worst child in the world. She then spent the next 4 days ignoring me and then called on day 5 and told me she was disappointed in me for how disrespectful I was after all that she has sacrificed for me and how she thought we were best friends but clearly she was mistaken, and that our relationship will never recover and she will never trust me again and that I owe her an apology for all of this. After that, I have NEVER missed her birthday again. I specifically make sure to set an alarm just to make sure because I am terrified of the consequences. (This year should be interesting though because my fiancé’s family is going on a camping trip the weekend of her B-Day and have invited me. I’m going but I’m really stressed because we will be out of cell range and I will not be able to call her. I already told her and she’s not happy about it and I’m suspecting there will be hell to pay when I get back.)
She also always seems to start an argument around holidays, or around important events such as finals, exams, or graduation. I feel like she is trying to sabotage me. I even tested this by telling her my Final exams one year was a week after when they really were. I passed with flying colors that year and the week after had anxiety attacks because on mom’s arguments. Basically, this has been my life. A series of arguments with periods of calm in between.
Recently there have been major issues because my mom asked (read demanded) I loan them money to buy something they needed for the house (there is a lot of back story to this so just suffice it to say they are supposed to be moving, the house is a shit hole, and this is a temporary band-aid on a severed limb of an issue.) Over a year ago I had said I would try and save money to help them move because they are on disability/ retired and really can’t afford a moving van. I would also like to point out that at the time they told me they would be ready in 6 months (again this has been going on for years, every six months it’s we will move soon). I was saving money but I goy into a financial situation of my own (fewer hours at work + medical expenses + Other issues) so I had to use a chunk of the money saved up. Well as is the way of the universe, they got into a bind and needed the money. I still have a small bit so I asked for a quote for how much this would cost. I should have told them straight up that I wasn’t in a position to help but I wanted to see if I could swing it with what was left and also I didn’t want them to worry about me having financial issues. They got back to me with a way to high price I told them I would need to save some more and mom LOST IT! She is mad that I “led them on” by telling them I was saving for them and was just spending it on me (again medical bills and unavoidable expenses, it’s not like I was buying stupid shit). Apparently, her plan has been to spend the money they had saved up for a bill on what they needed and get reimbursed by me. I only found this out after the fact when she told me that “I’m lucky they didn’t buy the thing before consulting me because what would I have done then? They would have been screwed because I lied to them”. This all came out after I spent the day crying and catatonic while trying to figure out what to do to help them. The result was my fiancé agreeing to loan me the money to give to them (he’s not thrilled because he has issues with the way my mother treats me and with the fact that they have been having issues with the house and have been ‘moving soon’ since before I met him, but he wanted to help me). I called my dad and we spoke with him; he was grateful and agreed they needed to move soon. Then came mom, I tried calling her and she wouldn’t answer. Several attempts and another call to dad later and she finally called me back. The conversation basically resulted in her telling me I was lucky they didn’t spend money already, telling me I “didn’t owe them anything” and telling us “not to worry about it” She basically told us to piss off and they would figure it out themselves. She hasn’t spoken to me since and this was 4 days ago. She has however started to send good night emoji texts again (we send a text every morning and evening to keep the cops from getting called) and she has also been posting snarky comments and memes on Facebook such as “ I’d rather adjust my life to your absence than adjust it to your disrespect” (side note: when she is pissed off she will use music and memes to continually drive home to you how much you fucked up).
So, I have been a nervous mess for days waiting for the next call. I’m crying and afraid to be left alone. My fiancé no longer wants to help out ( I don’t blame him), my dad said a family friend is going to help them get what they need cheap so they are sorted there anyways, and my fiancé and I have had a long talk about the issues I have with my mother and how I am not setting boundaries. He’s right, this has been an issue my whole life and it follows a cycle. Everything is fine (I.E. Mom is happy), then something happens to upset her, then I go through a period of anxiety and stress and crying, then I apologise/ do whatever she wants to make it better, then things go back to normal. It never fixes the issue and I am forever living in fear that she will get upset. I structure my life around it. Every day I am not working I call her and talk for hours about whatever she wants to keep her happy because if I don’t then I don’t love her and am a horrible child. This is impacting my life and my relationship.
My fiancé has told me I need to start setting boundaries with my mom or we will have serious issues because he can’t keep watching me fall apart like this. Not to mention it is now to the point of affecting us financially. I agree with him, but I am also having anxiety because I know this will just piss her off and make it so much worse.
Here is the part where I feel like I am going crazy. I love my mom. I know she has sacrificed a lot to raise me and to give me a good life. I also know she has major issues of her own and I am not sure that she realises the mental manipulation and abuse that she has done. As far as I know in her own mind, she is an A+ mother and she really does feel like I have betrayed her and let her down. I know that she is hurt and crying because of me. This makes me feel worse and makes me want to just make it better. I know that is how the cycle continues though.
Does anyone here have any suggestions on how to deal with this or have similar situations they are in?
Any advice on my next call to my mom? I’m waiting till she calls me because I am still upset that after all of the stress and working to try and help her we were told to piss off but I also know that she is most likely waiting for me to call and beg forgiveness. I’m not sure I am emotionally ready to deal with the fallout of me setting boundaries with her. I also know I have to start somewhere. My fiancé is of the opinion I need to just tell her to piss off and stand my ground and weather the storm. He really is having trouble comprehending the emotional and mental strain this takes. It’s not that he doesn’t care, he does it’s just I find that people who have not gone through mental abuse have no concept of how damaging it is.
This has been a theme as well, every close friend and even some of my friend’s parents have told me outright that my mom is abusive and that I need to distance myself. One of the memories I recall often was my best friend mom telling me to watch the movie Mommy Dearest and think long and hard on it. I have also gone to therapy to start dealing with my issues with my mom. I am looking for a new therapist at the moment because I am not comfortable talking to the one at my university as I am not sure if they would need to notify the school if I am having major issues that impact my academics. From what I have spoken to the therapist about so far though, they agree I need to start distancing myself. I’m just not sure how. Also, before this comes up: I am not ready to just cut ties with my mom because A.) I do love her and B.) if I cut her out, I have to cut dad out too and I am not doing that.
Any advice would be great. I’m not sure how to deal with this and it’s getting to the point of rock v. hard place. My fiancé has cancelled plans just to stay home with me because I am stressed to the point that I am afraid to be alone. I’m not suicidal, I’m just afraid that if mom calls and the convo goes bad (which it likely will) I don’t want to be home alone. Last week after the initial fight I was so upset I really just wanted to disappear (not die) just pack some essentials and leave never to be found again because the idea of starting a new life just seemed better. I didn’t want to be ME anymore. I actually wound up calling my fiancé and asking him to come home early because of it. I felt guilty and like I was a horrible person because I just couldn’t give them what they needed after all they have done for me. I feel like I owe them and that I’m letting them down.
Final note: My dad gets it. He is stressed about how they are going to be able to handle things without some financial help, but he also gets that this is not my fault.
Thanks for reading if you made it this far.
submitted by TeamWinchester to abusiveparents [link] [comments]


2020.09.28 03:51 Jonson1o All Usable Bed/Shack locations in RDR2

I am gonna make a complete list of where all of the usable bed/shack locations. Throughout the world, you may come across certain shacks. And in some of them, beds can be used to pass the time.
  1. Colter, Grizzlies West - In the main cabin, you can use Arthur’s old bed in his bedroom to sleep.
  2. Window Rock Shack, Grizzlies West - There is a shack below the Window Rock sign on the map. There, you can use a bed to sleep.
  3. Chez Porter, Grizzlies West - A small homestead that was occupied by a really odd family. In the main farm house, there is a bed inside a bedroom where you can sleep to pass the time. However, once the Home Robbery mission with Javier is complete, it will be abandoned and no bed will be present.
  4. The Loft, Grizzlies East - This is a really nice tall shack located in northeastern Grizzlies East, right next to the state border between Ambarino and New Hanover. Here, you have a gorgeous view and a bed inside to rest up. Also, if you are looking to cook and craft items, there is a campfire out front. This may be considered the best Ambarino shack in the game.
  1. Larned Sod, The Heartlands - A small ranch west from Emerald Ranch, with a house that appears to be like a burrow. You can use the bed inside the house. Unfortunately, the ranch is occupied by a rancher so in order to use the bed, you must either kill or incapacitate the rancher. There is also some loot, including a Valerian Root tonic inside so help yourself to some.
  2. Guthrie Farm - The Heartlands - A small farm located west from Emerald Ranch. There is a small but cozy farmhouse, where the bed is located inside one of the bedrooms. However, the farm is occupied by several farmers, so you must either kill or incapacitate all of them in order to use the farm in peace. There is a Cigarette Card on top of the usable bed that you can pick up. There is also a little bit of loot.
  3. Unknown shack, The Heartlands - A small shack located next to the regional border between the Heartlands and Roanoke Ridge. It is also located northeast from Emerald Ranch.
  4. Abandoned Trading Post, Roanoke Ridge - An old abandoned trading post in northern Roanoke Ridge, south from Doverhill. There is a bedroll located inside the shack that you can use. There is also loot hidden underneath the floorboards and there is a shack south of the post where you can find a small meteor that you can pick up and sell to a fence.
  5. Deer Cottage, The Heartlands - A small cottage located northwest from Annesburg and west from Reed Cottage. There is a usable bed inside.
  6. Reed Cottage, The Heartlands - A small cottage located north from Annesburg and east from Deer Cottage. There is a usable bed inside.
  1. TBA
  1. Witch’s Hut, Big Valley - You can find it WAAAY up north, northeast of Hanging Dog Ranch and north of Stilt Shack. If you follow Little Creek River up north, you will find it. Once you deal with the previous owner and her dogs, you can use the bed inside. It is a quiet remote place too.
  2. Stilt Shack, Big Valley - It is a nice treehouse-looking shack located west of Hanging Dog Ranch and south from the witch’s hut. There is a usable bed inside. In order to access the shack, you must climb the ladder to reach it.
  3. Hanging Dog Ranch, Big Valley - A large ranch in northern Big Valley. In the main farmhouse, you can find a usable bed upstairs inside. However, the ranch is usually occupied by either the O’Driscoll Boys or the Laramie Gang (depending on game progress). In order for you to use it, you must clear the hideout out.
  4. Aurora Basin, Tall Trees - A small shack is located next to Aurora Basin. You can access the shack and use the bed inside. Good place to go fishing.
  1. Stillwater Creek, Hennigan’s Stead - A small shack can be found in Stillwater Creek. The inside may be very small but the bed is usable in case you are in the area and wanna rest inside somewhere instead of camp.
  2. The Old Bacchus Place, Hennigan’s Stead - A small fishing shack located right next to the San Luis River, south of Thieves’ Landing. Stay on the roads as the shack is located below some cliffs. Good place to go fishing.
  3. Silent Stead, Gaptooth Ridge - A shack located in northern Gaptooth Ridge. It can be found north of Tumbleweed, if you follow the road up north.
That is all I can remember. If I can find more, I’ll put more in.
submitted by Jonson1o to reddeadredemption2 [link] [comments]


2020.09.28 02:39 BearLair64 Wendigo Nation: Clementine's Folly - Part 1 of 2

In a cavern, in a canyon,
Excavating for a mine,
Dwelt a miner, forty-niner,
And his daughter Clementine.
1905 CE
Luke huffed and puffed his way down to where his team had hidden their raft at the trail head. He had to get away from the whispers… the wails and cries in the night… from the blood, and the constant fear of death stalking the forest. No matter how rich the strike, it wasn’t worth his life. At first, he and his partners had been able to write off the noises as wind in the trees and rocks, then wild animals, then… lost souls?
**** * ****
Francois was on night watch the night after Big Ed saw the apparition. When Ed claimed, “I seen some sorta pale, skinny, spiky… thing in the trees that was way too tall for any man or beast.”
Frank had been the only one with the temerity to laugh off the tale. “Big Ed, prolly dreaming, eh? T’inkin’ about tall skinny women, all pale in de moonlight. Maybe you saw some kind of loup’garou, non?”.
Big Ed had bristled and no one with sense would prod too hard at the large, rough-cut character, though it was questionable how much sense Francois possessed, “Look Frank, all of you: I don’t lie and I don’t dream. Ain’t got that kinda ‘magination no-how. I seen what I seen, but I don’t rightly know for sure what it was. Coulda been a spook or a ‘roogaroo’, no idee. So, do what you want, I’m keeping my rifle and my blades to hand.” He glared first at Frank and then at the others to determine whether anyone else wanted to have fun at his expense. They apparently did not. Francois simply shrugged and walked toward the entrance to their cave to assume his post.
They’d taken to staying inside the front part of the cavern rather than outside in tents; it was better shelter. They needed some time to ensure that it was a rich vein and not just a few striations. They had also decided to gather a fair share for themselves. Might as well take home a small fortune in case they were cheated or ran afoul of robbers or met with some other misfortune that had taken the lives of so many others who’d sought wealth in the vast empty spaces of the Klondike. All things considered it was probably a good idea to take guard duty in turns. There were six of them, so it worked out well, half a night’s loss of sleep, every third night, was a small price to pay to sleep well the rest of the time.
Francois shook his head at the memory of the account by the decent but poorly educated man from far south of the border, Louisiana, he’d claimed, and his angry diatribe about, “spooks and roogaroos out in the woods”. His shift was more than half over, so he’d be able to sleep soon, when his relief, Charlie assumed the role. He started and his heart pounded savagely when he heard a screeching wail out in the trees but far too close for comfort. It could have been an owl… but the tones were deep and harsh and contained elements of longing and… hunger… the hint of bloodlust… they spoke of something fouler and more dreadful than anything in the natural world. A low hum started and rose in volume; a chant, disturbing and mesmerizing all at once. Then a woman’s voice, “Cooommm-ah, Com-ah wi’ me…
**** * ****
“I tell you, Frank never even tried to wake me. I drank some extra coffee so I’d be sure to be awake for my watch, but I still slept an extra couple of hours. When I awakened, Frank was… gone.” Charlie, the other geologist besides Luke, shook his head and wore an expression of curiosity mingled with fear. “I reckon he just stepped out. Maybe something got him, maybe a bear or some wolves.”
Luke, the leader for the expedition nodded. “Well, no point in stumbling around in the dark. Soon as it gets near dawn, wake the rest of the crew. We’ll eat and at first light make a search.”
As the first rays of the sun illuminated the area around the entrance to the cavern, Luke gathered the remaining members of the party. “George, you are our best tracker, you want to take a look before we go traipsing around and messing up the signs?”
George, a compact, taciturn man, nodded and proceeded to study what signs were available in the hard surfaces in front of the cave mouth and the soft loam beneath the trees. Once out among the trees, he began to look in earnest to either side of the trail they had worn for themselves. Presently, he returned and reported, “Not much, ground is too hard, and the forest floor is soft but mostly dry needles. A few scuffs on either side of the trail. Definitely more than just one person walked out that way. There may be a trail that leads off toward the overlook we found above the cavern. Just a few prints in the needles; they ran deep, like someone or something carrying a heavy load.”
Luke, George, and Big Ed set out to look for their missing companion. Charlie and Bob remained behind to watch the camp and to be ready in case Francois returned on his own. The trio of trackers ranged for a few miles before George called a halt. “Look, we’ve been on rocks for a while. Even full-blooded Injuns can’t track over this stuff. Unless we find a sign, something someone dropped…” He stopped and followed Ed’s normally vacant gaze, now squinted in concentration on a small boulder. On it, folded neatly, were a bright red scarf and matching stocking cap.
“Them was Frank’s.” Big Ed mumbled unnecessarily. They continued their search but found no other clues. By late afternoon, Luke called a halt to the effort and they returned to base camp empty handed. That evening over supper, they decided to double the watch.
Big Ed and George were tired but excited by the daylong search, so they took first watch. They didn’t talk much. It was against George’s nature and Big Ed just didn’t have much to say. They both sat quietly, looking into the small fire they’d lit in case Frank was out in the dark and lost. “Hellll-pah!... Come… hellll-pah!” Frank’s voice emanated from the stygian gloom now enhanced by the loss of their night vision from staring into the flames. Big Ed rose precipitously, the way he did most things. He grasped his twin knives in his hands and stared around blankly. George stayed down low and gripped his rifle.
“You think that was Frank?” Ed rumbled. “Sounded funny, like maybe he was hurt.”
George nodded, though Ed was not looking at him to see. “I don’t kno…”
The voice interrupted him, “Commmme… Need Hell-pp!”
True to his nature, Big Ed charged precipitously toward the sound. George called out to stop him, but the large man was already dodging his way among the trees and into the deep murk of the forest. George followed for a few paces and then realized that he would never find even so large a man as Ed under the circumstances, so he settled for waking Luke and the others.
**** * ****
Ed ran and dodged and did his best to listen. Eventually he called out, “Frank! That you? Where you at Frank?”. He was rewarded with only the sound of his ragged breathing in the cold night air. His vision had returned a little and the half-moon light penetrated into a small space between the fir branches, not quite large enough to be called a clearing. Through a gap in the trees, he saw movement. It was stiff jointed, all angles and rail-thin limbs. He made out a wide spread of antlers, an elongated and twisted countenance full of hatred for life and lust for dead flesh. That head rose… and rose more, to an impossible height. The gaunt and pallid apparition turned its gaze upon him and Big Ed Toups, who’d been hiding here in the wild for killing a man with his knives; toughest of a rough crew, fainted dead away from fear. The last sound he heard was startled laughter coming from either side of his recumbent body.
**** * ****
“Hhmmmmn…” George growled. “Definitely Big Ed’s tracks and it looks like he hit the ground. A little dirt to outline where his head rested… and there! The dirt mostly covers it, but that’s blood.”
They searched further but if there were more signs, they’d been deliberately obliterated. Luke gathered the remaining crew near the bloodstained patch of ground. “We have to go. No idea who or what is hunting us, but they’ve managed to take out our two biggest and meanest. What do you say boys?”
The agreement was unanimous and enthusiastic. Charlie spoke up, I say we get back to camp and gather what we can. Besides, Bob is on his own, if we’re being hunted…” They hurried back as best they could... …There was no sign of Bob, though he’d packed up his gear and had it ready to go. Apparently, he’d come to the same conclusion about leaving as they had, all on his own. Then he’d just as apparently left… only not on his own… a smear of bright blood that ended in a crimson handprint on the wall near the entrance of the cavern spoke to his fate.
They loaded minimal gear and maximum gold. They unashamedly took the shares of the three missing prospectors and divided them up as evenly as possible. The missing men would be unlikely to need the treasure and it had already been extracted, so…
…It got dark before they completed the trek to the river. They found a nice campsite with a rocky outcrop that would protect them from behind. Luke suggested that they take watch in twos with him on a long shift that would overlap the other two watches during the deep part of the night. The tired campers were soon snoozing, whether on watch or not. “Hurrrrtt… Need helllp.” Bob’s voice awakened the trio. The sound came from below, toward the river. The men looked at one another in fright.
“Was that really Bob?” George asked. “Sounded strange, maybe… hungry?”
Charlie shuddered and then sat shivering and frozen in place. Luke gave the order. “Everybody stay put. I don’t think that’s Bob. I think it’s whatever has been luring us into the woods.” He eased back the hammer on his old Winchester ‘73, “Yellowboy” rifle that had belonged to his father. “I think that we’re all on watch until dawn. “Charlie. Charlie, you alright?”
Charlie started when Luke repeated his name. He looked at him as though he was a stranger, then looked at George in a similar manner. He gazed all around, into the encroaching darkness. He bowed his head and shook it, then mumbled, “I don’t think I’ll ever be right again.”
Hellll-ppah! Come hell-pp!” The voice rose in volume and pitch. A rhythmic chanting, initially almost inaudible, ensued. Eventually wails penetrated the air to punctuate the rising tide of the quasi-tune. Moans and whispers spoke of hunger and need… of empty bellies and soulless plight. Charlie bolted upright and scrambled to his feet. Before Luke or George could stop him, he ran out into the dark, screaming, “Stop it! Stop it! Stop…” His last cry was cut short by a wet, crunching sound and a whining whimper, with the hint of a bubbling whistle as he expelled oxygen from an open wound in his airway.
The sounds ceased abruptly. They were replaced by odd murmurs beyond the feeble light of their watch fire. Then a roar burst from above them, over the top of the rocky outcrop. The two surviving prospectors rose and bolted together down the mountainside towards the river. Luke looked back as they left the circle of light and thought he saw a large silhouette of a bullet-shaped head that rested directly on a pair of impossibly broad shoulders as it rose above the outcrop. He fled away into the forest and did his best to keep up with George, who was more experienced at moving in deep woodlands.
They ran past several figures in the night, one of which was of gargantuan height but thin in a way that bespoke the grave. Its pale outline nearly glowed. Then the men heard a gut-wrenching sound: Crack! Followed by a rumble that issued from above and behind… avalanche! Luke jinked hard to the left while George continued to run all out straight ahead and away from his companion and the falling rocks. The sounds of tumbling boulders and all too human screams of fear and pain stormed quickly after him.
Luke found a tree that had fortuitously fallen upslope during some long-ago storm and dove into the hollow of the root ball. The rumble of the tumbling boulders and other detritus swept up in the rockslide evolved into a roar and he choked on dust and felt the sting of gravel as most of it pounded downslope on either side of his shelter. One large stone careened off the old tree trunk and sailed over his head and body, to land just a few feet downslope. Once it all settled, the entire mess resolved into a field of boulders and rocks sprawled among the verdure of the lower slopes.
**** * ****
He didn’t look for George; even a swift man could not outrun Nature in the form of rolling stones. Some other entity, large and fierce; possibly, prayerfully, benevolent, had started the slide and interrupted the evil spirits that had set up downslope with their murderous plots. Luke decided right then that he’d be back. He still held the nuggets in his pack. Perhaps enough to start or buy into a mining company. He’d have to get back to Whitehorse to file his claim. A trek he would have to make on his own once he’d crossed the wide water of the Yukon River.
**** * ****
1908 CE
Light she was, and like a Fairy
And her shoes were number nine,
Herring Boxes, without topses,
Sandals were, for Clementine…
…“Flynn the Fiddler” sawed on his eponymous instrument and warbled out the darkly humorous tune he thought so fit for the setting. After all, the mine company was called, “Clementine’s Folly”. The mine itself was set in a hollow with a drop-off from the mountain, rather than in a canyon. The hollow was like a large dent in the mountain, like a titanic fist had struck the slope and then poked a finger into the surface at the deepest point. Apropos for the song none the less, and there was a nice cavern instead of a mere shaft. Not much by way of an audience or prosperity in his current location: he was surrounded by miners rather than prospectors, but he was far away from the long arm of the RCMP, which was all to the good in his estimation. Likely, many of his companions were here in this remote camp for similar reasons. In any case, he was on his way to Alaska, might as well change countries, he’d be no loss to Canada.
The Klondike Gold Rush was coming to a close as a new century dawned, but there was a nice vein nearby, discovered a few years earlier, not by the romanticized single old coot with a lone donkey, but by a small company of prospectors, a least a couple of whom had some grasp of geology. Flynn wondered why they’d looked here though, very remote and while not too far from the river, it was still a random selection in the wide wild map of the Great Northwest. Yet it was not his worry; people in this type of settlement did not care for people asking too many questions and a poking nose could be severed. My voice is already nasally enough, he smiled to himself. Not that these folks were choosey.
A dozen or so customers sat scattered around the little saloon building. “Whispering Pines Tavern” a sign pretentiously proclaimed from the plank that rested on two empty barrels and made up the surface of the bar. The establishment’s owner, Claude, had informed him that the plank had been the city sign on what was now a ghost town from a boomtown that had gone bust when their local mine had stopped producing. It had been incorporated into a sledge and then re-purposed for a bar top on which he had added the word, “tavern”. The plank had traveled from wherever it had been felled, to the mill, to a town, then to a jury rig sled maker, then up this little mountain… quite a journey for an old knotty pine. He felt that it served its purpose nicely and was sure that its final service would be to feed the fire in the central hearth of the little saloon. Flynn told the story to himself in more poetic terms than Claude had rendered it; to make it memorable.
He saw the door to the back room swing open and a grinning miner emerged, followed quickly and quietly by a young woman, girl really, of the First Nations, possibly a Kutchin or a Hän. She shuffled over to Claude at the bar and spoke with him, Flynn knew that it was to determine whom she would service next and to ensure that Claude had the money before she escorted the next john into the back room. Four women had to service around fifty miners. Claude liked to say that “The fifth hole, that made it ten to one, was the mine itself”. Luke Preston the owner-manager of the mine operation kept promising to bring in more women, but the mine kept everyone busy enough. The locals probably wouldn’t like the way their women were used but other than these four, Flynn hadn’t seen any Native people in the vicinity. Strange
**** * ****
The first big storm of the season struck before Flynn managed to clear out and head back to civilization, so he now sat in the warmest building, the “Gathering Hall / Office / Church / Quarters for Luke”. It was not much larger than the saloon but contained only one room and log benches, though one corner was covered by a hanging curtain. Luke stood at the front of the room, “Alright folks, we are getting to a point where we will need more equipment. The main vein looks like it may go on for quite a piece. Plenty for us all to be wealthy. However, we have to survive the coming winter. We’ve laid in a good supply of food and dry goods and ammunition with which to hunt. Plenty of blankets and furs and boots. Look out for one another and…” he paused, and his gaze went distant for a moment, “Don’t go chasing out into the forest if you hear queer sounds or… voices.”
There was a general questioning rabble of comments and questions, and he held up his hands for silence. “The wind makes some crazy, odd sounds. It can fool you, like a mirage in a desert. The night birds are strange too. I haven’t told this tale often. The team I led to look into this cavern was… well, we had some misadventures and they were killed, including my business partner Charlie LePenne. We were down on our luck prospectors, too late to the dance for the Klondike Rush, but we ran across an old Kutchin down in Whitehorse. He told us about a haunted mountain that was full of gold. For a bottle of whiskey, he went from giving us dire warnings to giving us directions on how to find the place. Once I got the mining company started, I bought his daughters, so he was able to achieve his lifelong goal and drink himself to death. You might have noticed that the sweet ducklings who work at the tavern, rarely stray beyond the outhouses; they are terrified of the trees. Just, please, stay around camp as much as you can. There are definitely bears, wolves, and mountain lions. That’s enough to keep anyone in camp and they make some pretty odd noises as well. The supply team will head upriver for the additional gear as soon as the storm abates. They should be able to make it back before the next snow arrives. We’ll be in our little camp and our cavern for a long winter that will end with us all bathing in wealth come spring. For those last few of you to arrive, the settlement and the corporation is called, ‘Clementine’s Folly’. It was going to be called ‘Clementine’s Reward’, but after Charlie and the others… it seemed like we’d invited ill luck on our endeavors, so a less happy sounding name was in order…”
**** * ****
Drove she ducklings, to the water,
Every morning, just at nine,
Struck her foot against a splinter,
Fell into the foaming brine.
Winnie scrubbed her sister Dotty’s back. Their sisters had already bathed. They used the same tub and the water had cooled to a little below tepid. It took a great deal of effort to bring in water, heat it, and transport it to the tub. Yet Claude insisted that they wash themselves, at least the important parts, each day, so that they would be fresh and disease free for the miners and of course for himself. The young women shared the work as they shared the burden of their primary trade. Claude gave them a fair amount of food and ensured that they had what care he could provide, with the promise of severance pay when the mine ran out of gold. There were worse patrons; their father had been one such. Before he’d fallen so far into the depths of alcoholism, he’d taught them about their people and customs and legends. They knew that the place in which they found themselves was cursed; haunted by an ancient and evil set of Spirits… the Wendigo, who’d started life as human cannibals.
They rarely ventured outdoors and never alone. Besides the supernatural fears, they were each concerned that they would be accosted by the miners. Inside the tavern, the men behaved themselves or faced Claude’s considerable wrath, soon to be followed with firing by Mr. Preston. Yet outdoors, with no witnesses… there was no one to take their parts. It was a boring existence and being cooped up all the time, led to thoughts of wandering… of leaving this lonely and awful place full of ragged, dirty strangers who wanted only to use them. After her own bath, Winnie took a moment to slip outside and just around the corner, to watch the first flakes of snow drift to the ground in the freshening breeze. The cold air gave her a slight shiver and led her to nostalgic thoughts of her childhood, when her mother still lived, and her father lived outside the bottle. She heard whistling out among the trees, not the distinct call of birds but rather a breathy, mournful sound… it soon turned to a light, almost inaudible chant, and then evolved into something coherent, “Come-ah… child-dah”.
Winnie started when she realized that she’d heard actual words, inserted into the pauses in the chanting. “Coooomme…” the voice, a woman’s, rattled in her senses. Her shivers turned to shudders of horror. This had to be a Spirit, and if it was, it had to be Evil since it was in this place. She started to turn, to rush back inside to the comfort of her sisters and the warmth of the central hearth fire. Yet there was a longing in the sounds that wafted among the ever-thickening snowfall. A miserable loneliness that echoed her own. “Sweeeett-tah…. Chil-dah… come-ah…” the voice entreated. At last, she did. She took a few hesitant steps forward. Down the short lane between the last few tent cabins in this part of the encampment. She would be fine here, among others, even though they were unseen and mostly unheard as they sheltered in their little dwellings.
The wind increased. She knew that soon, Dotty or one of her other sisters, Nana or Na’kah, would come out and call her back inside; back to the miseries and the dirty men… The voice had begun to sound like a much nicer option, a comforting presence that sounded so much like… mother… yes, that was mother calling! It had to be, no one else would care enough to come for her. “Yyesss… sweeettt childah… come-ah…” the voice penetrated the new whistles of wind that now accompanied the eerie, whispering trills that had first caught her attention. She was now past the last of the structures made by the outsiders. She was under the welcoming trees. She was inside the forest of fear that felt like… home.
**** * ****
Ruby Lips above the water,
Blowing bubbles, soft and fine,
But alas I was no swimmer,
So, I lost my Clementine.
“We gotta find her, she’s outside in the snow. I looked in the outhouse, she ain’t there. I saw some tracks heading out to the woods. The snow is getting bad, she’ll get lost.” Dotty entreated her sisters.
Nana shook her head in annoyance, “Winnie is always getting stupid notions, but even she ain’t stupid enough to walk off into the trees when a storm is starting. She’s probably with one of the miners, maybe they offered her a nugget, or she took a shine to one; or they took a shine to her.”
Na’kah giggled, “S’true, a few of them are decent enough and not just bucking ponies in the sack. Some even warsh themselves.”
Dotty assumed a worried expression, “We gotta tell Claude. He’ll help. He don’t want nothing to happen to us, especially Winnie, she’s his favorite.”
Nana’s expression soured further, “Now listen fool girl, we don’t want Claude to get upset. He’s promised us that when the mine plays out, he’ll give us a cut and we can go on our way free and clear. Winnie is flighty but she ain’t stupid. We’ll just have to work harder until the snow stops. She can make it up to us by taking on some of the rougher men tomorrow.”
**** * ****
Winnie had followed the voice until the camp disappeared from view behind her and then she saw It. The towering presence, all spikes and antlers, the elongated features loomed towards her and the mouth gaped open. A hideous wail issued from the depths of that orifice as bony hands seized her from either side and a filthy palm settled over her mouth. They lifted her as she thrashed and struggled to free herself, or at least break free long enough to scream for help. Yet the bony hands were many and strong…
…She lost track of time and sank into a miserable stupor. She felt warmth and her head cleared enough to take in her surroundings. Faces surrounded her, both male and female. A few wore disturbing grins, full of filed fangs that bespoke foul appetites. They stank and many of the eyes rolled in madness. Eventually a male, taller than the rest approached and yelled at them. His language was clearly related to her own as well as English and French, though he spoke in a nearly unintelligible manner. He loomed above her and pounded his chest, “Nok-Cha!”. That was her introduction to her new mate, the leader of this faction of the Tribe with a name none of her people would willingly speak: “Wendigo”.
**** * ****
“Where’s your sister at, where’s Winnie?” Claude menaced Dotty, upset with the silence from her sisters and her.
“I… I don’t know. I… we… looked for her when the snow started but we couldn’t find her.” Dotty stammered and her sisters looked around in panic, huddled on the edge of the cot nearest the main room.
“If you’d told me, I could have taken some men and gone out to find her. Now the storm is dumping snow. Who knows for how long?” He shook his head, “We got men lined up ready to go and only the three of you to take care of them.” He looked each of them in the eyes in turn and then shouted, “Get to it, you lazy slobs!”
**** * ****
The snow was early in the season and not too deep once it had stopped falling by noon on the following day. Claude, true to his word, took two of the camp men who typically hunted to supply meat for the denizens of Clementine’s Folly, and struck out into the forest. Dotty had wanted to go, she pointed out the last known direction of travel for Winnie. Yet Claude had told her to stay put before he tramped out to look for her favorite sister, the only one who cared about her in this world…
…Claude, a determined look on his face, called his companions to notice, “See here, tracks. They lead towards… well, deeper into the trees. Gets pretty dark in there.” The hunters agreed and they decided to take out their firearms in preparation for action should the need arise. They continued their trek, which led, along a circuitous route, toward the same area as the cavern entrance of the mine through the ever-darkening shade of the forest. None of them commented that the snow had fallen after the girl had left the camp and would have covered her tracks.
Presently, Boudreaux, a large man who favored a bright Voyageur’s cap, grunted, “Something out there, eh.” He stared ahead and used a flick of his chin to indicate the direction of the, “something”.
His partner, Tibbedeaux shortly added, “Antlers? What kind of…” He cut off when he saw what lay beneath the antlers, the long, distorted face that rose well above the ground, and the bony, spiky body that worked in ways that were… wrong! “Merde!”
Claude registered the apparition as well. He was much less familiar with the wild places than the hunters, so it took longer to comprehend it as a threat. To their right, a long, loud, mournful wail, full of pain and bloodlust erupted and attracted their attention. It was followed by a breathy plea, “Helll-pah! Cooomme, Hell-pah!”
“That was Winnie!” Claude exclaimed and took several steps towards the calling voice.
Boudreaux and Tibbedeaux called out as one, “Stop!” and Boudreaux added, “It’s not her.”
Claude continued to look toward the point from which the voice had initiated. “I don’t see…” He was interrupted by the female voice once more, “Hell-pah! Need Hellpp now!” He charged forth into the heavy foliage, and called, “Winnie! I’m coming girl!”
Boudreaux chanced a look at where he and his partner had observed the strange being. It was no longer present. He nudged his partner, “Come on, let’s catch the fool.”
… Claude rushed forward and continued to call. He caught a glimpse of a pale figure to one side of his path and paused, “Winnie! That you?” He felt the hard impact on the back of his skull and then secondary impact from when he landed on the snow-covered ground. Afterwards, he felt nothing more.
Tibbedeaux called to his friend, “Boud, not so fast, we need to stop and listen.” Boudreaux complied… they stopped and strained to hear whatever they could. They had strayed near a rocky outcrop. “I think we are near the cavern.” Tibbedeaux added unnecessarily. “At least if we followed the rock wall…”
He froze and from behind them came the call of their former companion, Claude, “Helll-pah! Come Hellpp… Hurrr-tah!” the voice trailed off as if it had run out of breath. That voice, so full of distress and hunger… of need.
Tibbedeaux began to walk toward the voice, “Claude! Come to us, eh. You hear me?”
A moaning wail echoed from the rock face and then a disquieting silence set in around the men. After a moment, a low… chanting began, just on the edge of hearing… rhythmic, filled with enticing female voices… Boudreaux cleared his throat and looked in the direction of the cavern, “I think we should go to the mine. Luke will be there, we can get more men, uhn?” He turned his head back to see his friend disappear into the trees along the trail they’d followed. “Tibbi! Where you going?” he called fruitlessly. The man kept walking, as though in a trance. He looked down and shook his head in frustration, “Come back…”
His call was interrupted by a choking noise from up ahead. A squeaking exhale as if Tibbedeaux’s throat was constricted. A sharp, bloodied point erupted from the back of the man’s neck, accompanied by a small spray of blood. Boudreaux stepped forward; he raised his rifle as he did so. Yet he stopped abruptly. There was nothing he could do for his friend, he reasoned, so he turned to race toward the mine, only to feel an intense pain as a sharp object entered his guts and began to twist and wrench. He grunted and vomited blood onto the rocks near his feet. A pale spiky being stood before him. It lowered the butt of the spear it had plunged into him so that his blood trickled back along the shaft, then bent forward and licked the hot crimson liquid from the wood. The face smiled up at him, the teeth filed into a maw full of fangs, now tinged with his lifeblood. He felt the rifle slide from his weakened grip and sensed the ground rushing toward him. It took him a long time to die but he was never able to scream.
**** * ****
Then the miner, forty-niner,
Soon began to peak and pine,
Thought he ought’ta join his daughter,
Now he’s with his Clementine.
Winnie looked up hopefully when the hunters returned. It was cold and she was hungry, as were all those who awaited the meat bringers. Yet she recoiled in disgust when she saw what they carried into the camp that was set just inside a cave and concealed by hides and brush. The rest of the tribe enthusiastically greeted the food and those who bore it. She recognized the corpses of the two mining camp hunters as a large part of the coming feast, and her heart lurched; it sank when she saw Boudreaux’s features, twisted in agony and set for all time. Then she saw Claude, his skull shattered and his face frozen in surprise. She turned away and heaved as her gorge rose.
Instead of sympathy, she noted curled lips of contempt and resentment. Who was this girl to vomit at the sight of our favorite food? Their expressions read. As she recovered and looked up in fear, the fist of her new mate slammed into her cheek and knocked her to the ground. Once she recovered, a pair of the older women gathered her and forced her to help with removing the clothing and gear from the cadavers and then butchering and cooking the men. By the time the meal was served, enough of her mind had shattered to allow her to eat.
**** * ****
Dotty waited anxiously for Claude and the hunters to return but the end of the next miners’ shift came, and they still had not appeared, and of course Winnie was long gone. Nana shook her by the shoulder, “Get up and get ready girl, the men will be in soon. You and Na’kah will have to take care of them. Claude is still gone, so I’ll work the bar.”
Dotty looked around, barely conscious of the men who crowded into the saloon. There were a few rumbles when they noted Claude was absent and a few more when Nana informed them that he was out with a pair of the hunters to look for Winnie. The gossip and discussion that followed ensured that Dotty and Na’kah had a slow night. At least until Roberts, one of the other hunters, pushed Nana up against the wall behind the bar and shook her. “Where are Boudreaux and Tibbedeaux? You say they left with Claude to look for your sister. Tell me all that you know.” Billings, the last of the quartet that supplied fresh game to the camp, watched to ensure that no one in the group of off duty miners wanted to interfere with Roberts and his prey.
Flynn knew better than to intervene or even pause his current ballad, so the tableau unfolded to the tune of The Leaving of Liverpool. Like Clementine, it contained sad but sometimes humorous lyrics and was set to a lilting tune that was perfect for his fiddle. Flynn knew that loss and fear of harm went hand in hand with the need for an uplifted heart, as what came through a smile. A part of his mind was intrigued, he’d heard other rumors of folks going missing… assumed to have abandoned the camp and the arduous work of mining.
Nana stood defiant, “I don’t know where they’re at, just that they went to look for Winnie. It ain’t been that long, maybe they got stuck out in the snow.” Roberts leaned in closer to terrorize the girl. He stared into her eyes and his hot breath, rank with rotten food between the teeth spilled into her face. His eyes were red-rimmed with too much drink from the previous night. He was one of what she and her sisters called the, “rough riders”, a harsh man at the best of times. Her resolve wilted and she adjusted her tone, “I… we, want to know too, Winnie’s our sis.”
Roberts stared a moment longer and then turned and with a motion to Billings, the two men exited the little establishment. Dotty looked at her sisters in turn, then followed in the wake of the hunters. She stayed far enough behind them that she would draw no notice as they trudged towards the structure that served as Luke Preston’s headquarters and home. They entered unceremoniously and she caught up to them. She remained outside the door and was rewarded by voices from within. Apparently, Luke was in the main room and stirring, “What do you want Roberts? Billings?”
“We want a few men to help us look for Boudreaux and Tibbedeaux. They went out with Claude to find one of his whores that absconded into the falling snow.” Roberts, an educated man, fallen from grace through his own foul nature, demanded.
“What do you mean? Tell me what happened.” Luke intoned.
Roberts sighed in frustration, “Yesterday, Claude came by and asked if a couple of us would mind helping him to find one of his girls who’d gone missing. Now, none of them have returned and it’s past time we go looking for them. We want to leave at first light.”
Dotty couldn’t see it, but Luke blanched, “So they left camp after dark?”
Roberts shook his head, “No, about noon, when the snow stopped. So, they’ve been gone since yesterday at noon, and now the whole day is wasted. The stupid whores didn’t bother to say anything until a short time past.”
Luke nodded, “Very well. Take four with you, but I must caution you,” he stood to his considerable height and glowered at Roberts as the unpleasant man had done over Nana, “You must stay together. No matter what you see, no matter what you hear, it is imperative that you remain in a group.”
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2020.09.28 02:37 BearLair64 Wendigo Nation: Clementine's Folly - Part 2 of 2

**** * ****
Dotty fled back to the Whispering Pines Tavern once she had eavesdropped on the plans. She would follow the group of hunters into the forest. She had to find her sister. It would be scary, but the men would be nearby and carrying weapons. It was a foolish plan, but it was all she had.
**** * ****
In my dreams, she still doth haunt me,
Clothed in garments, soaked in brine,
Though in life I used to hug her,
Now she’s dead, I’ll draw the line.
Nok-Cha adjusted the straps on his costume. He was still strong, despite long hard years, yet lately, each time he hefted the construct onto his shoulders, it felt heavier. He pulled at each control to sure that the puppet worked and would be suitably terrifying to the outsiders, the prey folk. The hunters stood around checking their weapons for any flaws they may have missed and ensuring that each edge was sharp, and each bludgeon firmly affixed to its handle. He was proud of the current crop of warriors. They were not intimidated by the large number of outsiders and understood that the extra food would be helpful with the coming winter. Despite the readily available food source, they would have to create panic in the settlement, to get the outsiders to leave. This group was too large to handle for too long and had taken over a prime winter camp space for the tribe. The meat would keep with the coming cold.
His new mate was coming along nicely, she had not been overly frightened when he’d used her. She was young and he hoped to get some living children inside her soon. The tribe needed some fresh blood in its lineage. He surmised that the outsiders would come with a more numerous party this time and he looked over the Nok-Wa to ensure that the other Death-Walker puppeteers were ready. It would soon be time to play The Hunting Game… the eating game…
**** * ****
“Let’s face it, the whole bunch is likely dead or absconded.” Billingss pronounced as he and Roberts awaited the rest of their party. “Our huntsman companions are competent enough but there is something stalking these woods, this entire area.” He shuddered.
Billings nodded, “I know, we’ve all felt it… heard the noises, the whispers, and… calls. Certainly not animals. Not even birds make such noises. Almost makes one believe the tales of the locals about this being a haunted place; almost. They may have succumbed to misadventure or been forced to flee deeper into the wilderness. Perhaps they took the girl and fled the area altogether, though that just doesn’t feel right. Neither of them was a coward, especially Boudreaux.” He cut off as the other four members of their party arrived, accompanied by a fifth following shortly behind. “Where do you think you are going?” He asked the fifth person.
Flynn shrugged, “I heard about the search party, thought I could help. In addition to being an extraordinary musical talent, I’m a fair tracker and hunter, as I often have to feed myself as I travel between settlements. Besides, everyone is stirred up and no longer paying tips for my tunes. Might as well do something useful until the snow clears and I can get back down the mountain. I should have gone with the supply group, but…” he shrugged in the manner of a man who’d let yet another opportunity pass and was accustomed to the feeling of failure.
Roberts glanced at Billings, who shrugged, “More hands won’t hurt.”
Roberts nodded and looked at each of the men in turn, “I know you lot are volunteers, but I must caution you, Billings and I are in charge of this party: treat what we say as word and law. That’s the best way to succeed. I see that each of you is armed, except for you.” He looked at Flynn, “Did you bring your bow and rosin bag in case of a fight?”
The other men chuckled and Flynn grinned as he moved aside his heavy coat to reveal a large framed .44 caliber revolver and the handle of a large knife mounted on his belt. “Someone has to be ready for close-up work.” He said as he refastened the garment.
Roberts made a sour face and led the men into the forest, following the last known trail of the search party and the missing girl. Behind the last man, a slender figure in furs flitted from tree to tree and followed their trail as her father had taught her before he fell into malaise and strong drink.
**** * ****
Nok-Cha placed himself so that the leader of the band of outsiders would see him. He was prepared to quickly dart into cover while others distracted the prey folk. They would lead them to where they had ambushed the other group and along the way attempt to draw away a few of the searchers, one at a time to make it easier to handle them and to better sew fear among the rest of the party.
The young hunters to be were hidden and prepared to begin their whistles while the full-fledged adult hunters prepared to chant and add to the enticing noises. He and the Nok-Wa would give voice to the calls of the lost. The Hunting Game was familiar to each of his party. They would feast for a month without having to hunt other game. When the dark-hued man who walked out front of the prey folk reached the right place, he started the game. He called out in a voice that was a fair mimic of one of the previous trio of searchers, “Helll-pah! Huurrrtt!”
**** * ****
Billings, out in front of the rest of the party, heard a low, plaintive call from directly ahead. It sounded a little like, Claude. He was unsure, so rather than alerting Roberts and the others, he increased his pace so that he could determine what it was. Perhaps the search would be a short one, he thought happily. The voice sounded again, more to his left. He adjusted his direction and again picked up the pace. It sounded like Claude but in distress, perhaps injured. Off to his right, along the original line of travel, he glimpsed a tall figure through the limbs of the trees; pale, spiky… He paused for a moment and the javelin took him in the throat. A hard object struck him in the side of his head. Within seconds, there was nothing left but a spray of blood that was brushed by evergreen needles to leave a reddish-brown smear in the fallen snow.
“Bill, slow your pace, I’ve lost sight.” Roberts called out to his favorite of the trio of hunters he managed. There was no answer, just a breeze that accompanied the lowering clouds above… the clouds that presaged more snow to come. Roberts halted the party. A couple of the men started to ask what was happening, but he silenced them, “Listen.” Except for the soughing of the breeze through the trees, there was absolute silence.
**** * ****
Nok-Cha grinned in satisfaction; the hunters had done well in taking one of the leaders of the party. Now the other would be indecisive, worried for his friend, distracted. He ensured that the hunters had moved away from the area quickly and as quietly as possible. This was a time for the outsiders to face silence, so that when the sounds of the hunters and Nok-Wa began again, the party would divide and be lured to their individual dooms.
So it went throughout the day. Their next victim paused to relieve himself while the rest of the party advanced. They baited two more into wandering into the woods. The tall one with the bright red hair had tried to stop the second one from leaving but failed. That one had alerted the lead outsider when he fired the big pistol into the trees and then they’d come into the trees as a group. Nok-Cha feared that they had learned their lessons, and the hunters were forced to leave behind the meat, so he called off the hunt. It was time to spread terror in the main camp where the diggers removed the pretty yellow rocks from the cavern. The place where his tribe wanted to spend at least part of the winter months.
Besides, he wanted to pause long enough to take a look at the new prize, the one who had followed the party of outsiders, who looked something like his new mate. Perhaps he would give her to his best Nok-Wa
**** * ****
“Black Cat” Petitpas was tired. He’d worked his entire shift, then gone to The Whispering Pines to have a romp with Nana. After that and a few drinks, he was ready to sleep. As he neared the cabin he shared with one of the other miners, he heard an odd noise that came from the trees at the edge of camp. A strange, whistling sound, just at the edge of hearing. “Prolly just the wind in the firs.” He muttered, “Fatigue getting to me, maybe too much booze…”
…“Coooome… look-kaah… niiiice…” He definitely could make out that sound, like the whore sisters, maybe Winnie or Dotty. Too sweet for the other two, but somehow a little sickly. He knew that two girls were missing. The entire camp knew by now. Maybe they were lurking out in the woods, maybe hurt, maybe just in need of a break from all the miners. He’d tried to be kind to them. Maybe he should go see. He sighed wearily and trudged toward the sound of the voice…
**** * ****
After losing the third volunteer, Roberts turned the party back towards Clementine’s Folly. They’d lost Billings and three others and were now down to three of seven. He’d planned to stay out all night, but he knew that whatever was stalking them would finish the job if they failed to seek reinforcements. They’d found the body of Archambeaux leaking out the last of his life’s blood into the snow. He’d considered staying out to look but Flynn had talked him out of it. The man had good sense and appeared to have a cool head. That was the role that Billings had filled, though the man had been his friend and rarely attempted to reign in his reactions. Flynn had missed but at least he’d drawn and fired a few rounds on their behalf. “Give us a song, Flynn. We need cheering up and our friends out among the trees need to hear the songs of others for a change. Let them hear a terrible voice chanting.”
Flynn was a little surprised but then chuckled, “I hope my voice is not as bad as all that.” He cleared his throat, took a sip of water, then cleared it again, then cut loose with, The Minstrel Boy in hopes that it would rouse the men of the party to stay alert and keep their courage close to hand. It seemed to be efficacious and after a few hours of straight trudging without being slowed by attempts to track, they made it back to edge of the settlement. They headed straight for The Whispering Pines Tavern. Every man in the group wanted a drink. Yet, they saw a gaggle of bodies at the meeting hall and heard a rumble of voices. There were too many bodies, it was clear that no one was currently in the mine, they were all present for the meeting.
As the new arrivals pressed into the crowd, Roberts led the way. Many of the miners feared the hunter and stepped aside for him. As the group made their way inside, they could hear Luke Preston from where he stood on a crate at the front of the building, “… I agree, the supply party should have been back today. If we don’t hear from them by the end of the day tomorrow, we’ll send out a search party.” He noted the new arrivals, and registered the haunted look on the face of the chief hunter, “Speaking of which, Roberts, where is Billings?” He looked at the three men who stood before him, “For that matter, where is the rest of your party?”
“We lost him… and three others. We turned back to get more men to help search. We told them what you said about going into the woods. Billings heard it from you directly… but it was as though they were under some type of spell… the eldritch chants and calls led them to their doom. We arrived in time to find the body of one of the men, Stanton, but he was already dead. Billings and the other men simply vanished.”
There was a great deal of discussion, it seemed that Dotty and three miners from the camp were missing. There were signs that two of the miners, who’d shared a tent had met violent ends, though no one had observed an attack. In the end, Luke decided to send out a dozen searchers to find the supply team. He set watches but determined that work in the mine would continue while they resolved the threat.
**** * ****
How I missed her, how I missed her,
How I missed my Clementine,
Then I kissed her little sister,
I forgot my Clementine.
Luke continued to rotate the miners through their shifts, since it was best to keep them busy. He took turns digging and sifting as well; he preferred that to standing watch. As the latest shift wore to an end, he realized with a sinking heart that the supply party had not returned, and he would have to either assign or lead a search party for them. He took his current load to the sifters and returned his tools to the storage racks, then wearily made his way to his office-home. Roberts was there awaiting him, along with a group of eight men, most of them hard looking. “I’ve already rounded up volunteers; short of a dozen but none of them weak. It means a few more to stay and work the mine, but it seems with everyone else on the verge of panic, not much will get done in any case. I think Flynn may also join us, though he will likely leave the party at the river. We’ll go to the landing and wait for three days. If they don’t show, they never will, and we will all have to pack out of here during the next clear weather. We’ll leave as soon as it starts to get light. Definitely more snow on the way. No need for ceremony, just brought the men by so you’d have an accounting of who had left camp.”
Luke nodded tiredly and walked over to his desk to make notes in the personnel log. When they were done, he looked up and met the eyes of each of the men. “Whatever you do, stay with the party. No matter whom you may hear calling to you, it’s more likely a lure to meet your death than a lost comrade. I wish you all a safe journey and pray for your swift return.”
**** * ****
Dotty couldn’t believe she’d at last found Winnie. They were not allowed a sweet reunion but at least she knew that her sister was alive… well, at least breathing. “Life” would require more than this most basic existence, the brutish members of the Wendigo Tribe constantly abusive or too stupid to converse or consider the needs of others. Perhaps over time, they’d let the sisters speak and regain their once fraternal relationship. She said to herself, Winnie has looked more better, she don’t look right, her eyes are glassy and a little… crazy maybe. Over the next few days, she grew to understand the terrors that led to the look in her sister’s eyes and she began to share that look…
**** * ****
Flynn had indeed joined the search party that followed down the larger sled trail, in hopes that they would encounter the returning equipment supply party. He had determined to leave the camp far behind him once they’d reached the river and head for Whitehorse and perhaps a better venue in which to winter. For now, he trudged along and glanced in concern at the glowering clouds that threatened more snow; much more. The rest of the time he attempted to remain alert. He knew that something horrible lurked in this forest, this land of fear. He wanted to get away from it. He had the generous tips of drunken miners in his little pouch, along with a few nuggets he’d “liberated”. Definitely time to go… he cogitated… The chanting began off to the west. He knew the sounds would grow louder, more enticing, so instead of the reverie to which the calls invited him, he determined to alert the others, “Be alert, there’s a chant from the woods. If you listen too deeply, you’ll stray. If you stray, you’ll die. If anyone runs into the woods, he’s dead, forget him.”
Roberts grunted from near the front of the line, “Yes, ignore them. Be aware in case of a general attack but mostly they want to lure us out there alone to take us in a way that’s easier for them.”
One of the miners spoke from the middle of the column, “Don’t sound like no, ‘them’, sounds like one booger out in them trees.”
Roberts answered, “Regardless of the sounds, the tracks indicate a numerous party. They attempted to obscure their trail, but we almost caught them on their last foray and they apparently lacked the time to sufficiently cover their imprints. Flynn, how about a song to drown out the horrors of this forest?” Flynn obliged and soon the entire troupe was singing along, and the chants faded as they moved down the mountain and toward the river. The snow started as they made camp near the water; thick and quickly obliviating their view as they sat huddled around their fires.
**** * ****
Nok-Cha smiled. The tribe had sent off the outsider party with a reminder of what awaited them if they returned. It was now time to devour or drive off the rest of the group. It was down by nearly half with the meat they had taken and those who’d left in groups. The true effort would begin tonight, they would take at least four of the miners from their tents; then they would put on a display to spark fear.
**** * ****
Luke awakened to faint sounds of a… song, from out among the trees and set to the rhythm of whistling, snow-filled winds. It almost sounded like… Flynn! He rose and quickly donned his warm clothing and boots, then picked up his Winchester on the way out of his dwelling. As he left the building, he encountered a party of about a dozen who were headed toward him. There was a shift working in the mine but there should have been a few more in this party. All of the men carried some type of weapon and many of them held a firearm of some kind. It was suicide to travel these remote lands without strong protection.
Come-ah… come to uusss…” the voices moaned from within the forest, clearly more than one this time. Every head swiveled towards the eerie, quavering sounds.
“Stop!” Luke called to them. “Every one of you come inside, no matter what you hear, come inside.”
Yet one of the men toward the back of the group called out, “That sounds like Flynn, maybe he’s caught out in the storm and needs help.” As he spoke, he took a few steps away from the rest. The swirling snow quickly obscured him from the view of the others. Another man, his tent-mate, followed, “Come back Floyd, didn’t you hear Mr. Preston?”
The rest of the men had obeyed their boss and he led them into the meeting room. Floyd was able to let out a quick shriek before he joined the other four who’d been spirited away that night. His tent-mate died silently…
**** * ****
Flynn shivered with the rest, the wind, combined with proximity to the wide water to make the camp uncomfortably cold. It would be morning soon, the third morning of their vigil. He expected that the rest of the party would head back to camp after today. As for him, the snow had stopped late the previous evening. It was heavy but he’d faced worse. He would leave today; he had no interest in the supply party nor the miners. There were a couple of canoes that the miners kept hidden in the brush. Once across the river, he could follow the well-traveled river road back to town. Some of the others had made pretty obvious hints that they would like to join him. He wouldn’t mind the company. There was safety in numbers.
“Hello, the camp!” voices called from up the sled trail. Flynn and the others looked up as a group of people in a gaggle, some of whom appeared wounded, descended the sled trail from the direction of Clementine’s Folly. They were soon recognizable as miners. Once they were closer, the man who had called to them spoke for the group. The rest looked exhausted or in too much pain for conversation. “We have to go. Whoever or whatever haunts this mountain has beaten us. We are carrying as much of the cache as we could. We’ll split it with your men, but we have to leave this place.”
Roberts looked over the group, which included Nana, who sported a large bruise on her left cheek and dried blood around her mouth. “Come on to the fires, we’ll gather some more wood, and you can tell us just why you have apparently mutinied. Before that… Luke, Mr. Preston, did you kill him and the others?”
The man shook his head, “Of course not, we all like the man, the deal he gave us to help him mine was uncommonly generous. It’s just… well, we can’t spend it if we’re dead!”
Later, around the fire, the spokesman, Castor, took up the tale, “We stayed in the meeting house until the next morning, then we searched the camp. None of the miners had returned but we found the girls at the tavern… the two who were left. Anyway, Luke rounded up the entire bunch and herded us to the mine. The shift members were still there. We all gathered and took account of what we had by way of supplies. We carried all that we could to the mine. Mr. Preston led us in setting up a little fort at the front of the cavern. We set up watches. Everything went fine for a while. Then the chanting started again. This time it echoed throughout the cavern, like some sort of tortured Spirits. The girls curled up together and cried in fear; some of the men may as well have joined them.”
He had sunken further into the memories as he spoke; then he looked up, “The sounds were no longer coming from the forest. They were all around us. We knew that we had to make a break. The mine was the source of the haunting. We tried to convince Luke, but he wouldn’t have it. He took a handful of volunteers to the deepest part of the mine. While they were gone, the rest of us broke into the ore store, shouldered our supplies and left.” He shuddered, “They came back up to the entrance and we had a fight. I don’t think any of them was hurt too badly.” He looked away as a rumble like distant thunder, sounded from up the mountain and all heads swiveled to investigate.
Roberts spoke first, “That wasn’t thundersnow. We all know that sound, it was a deliberate blast from TNT…”
**** * ****
Chorus:
Oh, my darlin’, oh my darlin’,
Oh my darlin’ Clementine,
Thou art lost and gone forever,
Dreadful sorry Clementine.
Luke and his last four miners had gone deep into the mine. He needed to work to allow himself to think. His enterprise was crumbling, just when they’d begun serious efforts to extract from the mother lode vein. It was admittedly nerve-wracking to listen to the odd voices, but he was convinced that it was just wind moaning through the mine from some hidden breach or perhaps an underground stream. He knew that horror resided outside, in the forest, of that he had no doubts, yet the cavern had always been safe. The others had been skeptical, but he felt that if his small team could retrieve enough pure nuggets, the others might be convinced to return to work. It would just take patience.
He pounded at the flow of golden delight until it rang. He noted an odd… echo… a pounding sound from the other side, as though there was a mirror-Luke hammering the other side of the vein, behind the wall. He stopped to listen. It was not an echo, but rather an independent thump. He took a step back from the wall and looked. After a few more thumps, a small spray of rocks splintered and struck his chest. The head of a rusted pick protruded slightly from a small hole in the wall… it had been breached from the opposite side. He called out to the other men working around him and they soon surrounded their boss, curious about what he may have discovered. Tucker bent to look through the newly made aperture… a red-rimmed eye blazed through and looked back into his. It quickly disappeared and he stood, blinking dumbly until the tip of a javelin pierced his eye and drove into his brain.
As Tucker’s limp form collapsed, the miners fled. Luke called for them to remain and stay calm, but he may as well have shouted at the storm outside to stop the snow from falling. He walked after the rapidly disappearing figures as they faded into the black gloom and towards the light and air of the upper world. There was no point in running, he carried his pick and a lantern. As he drew closer, he heard disturbing sounds, sounds of… fighting. He picked up his pace and as he rounded the last curve that blocked the outside light, he saw the silhouettes of two groups struggling against one another outside the safe storage. It was where the partially worked gold was stored; a small grotto off the main cavern that he had secured with a sturdy log door with heavy metal hinges and a clasp that he’d brought from Whitehorse in anticipation of the need for security.
The light from his lantern revealed that the storeroom had been broken open with heavy tools. A few figures lay sprawled about, clearly wounded, and one or two appeared to be still in final poses. “Stop! Stop this madness!” He shouted to little effect. He caught movement to his right and raised the pickax in time to stop a heavy shovel scoop from braining him. The man who wielded it was one of those who’d decided to leave, his eyes were now wild with fear and fury and he drew back the shovel for another swing. Luke was faster and buried the pick in the man’s chest. He attempted to pull it free, but the curvature had caused it to catch in the man’s ribs. The meaty resistance to his tug would normally have made him sick, but his blood was up, and his body pumped adrenaline as quickly as it could. The man managed to bug out his eyes even more before he collapsed, feebly attempting to raise his hands to the metal tool that had pierced his heart and ended his life.
Luke had no time for him. The miners who had chosen to leave overwhelmed the last of the “faithful five” as he’d thought of those who’d remained to help him, though with the loss of Tucker, he supposed it was the “faithful four”. He stepped back from them and one gritted out a warning, “Best you stay back Mr. Preston. We all like you, you’re a good enough boss-man, but not even gold is worth dying over.”
Luke’s shoulder drooped and his chest heaved with deep, heavy breaths, “Go on then, take your share. Just leave some for these other men… the real men, who kept faith.”
There were some growls and rumbles of anger at his insult, but pragmatism won out and the erstwhile miners scrambled to take what they could carry and made their way to the cavern exit. Luke roused his four remaining friends, “C’mon, help me with the other contents of the safe.” He raised his lantern and aimed the aperture toward the back of the grotto. There was a crate with bright red lettering that had been hidden under a tarp. The men in their mad rush had moved aside the covering but didn’t feel the need to waste carrying capacity on the contents. The letters spelled, “TNT – Danger – Explosive”.
**** * ****
Luke heard the rapidly crumbling back wall as the cannibals dug through like rabid moles. He and his small gang set the charges where he directed and where he knew it would be the most effective. He sent the others back up to the front of the cavern and then fed out the wires as he shuffled back up the tunnel in their wake. He set the wires and raised the plunger…
**** * ****
Nok-Cha pushed aside the men he’d ordered to dig through the back of the mine. They had been digging since shortly after the strangers set up their encampment and now the little cave his people occupied and the larger cavern that was their normal winter campsite, were joined! He bent and stepped through the opening triumphantly, to lead his people to the feast and to drive away of the last of the outsiders. There was no one living to greet him, just the thick vein of yellow ore that spread up the walls of the cavern and the now cold carcass of Tucker. He grinned wickedly through his filed teeth and turned to call his warrior-hunters. A loud, deep BOOM! Sounded, followed by the thunderous noise of the cavern as it collapsed.
**** * ****
Luke and the others met in the gathering hall. They determined to set out the next day and get down the mountain as quickly as possible. Once they were packed and ready and had begun to settle for the evening, he had time to feel the shock of what he’d done. He’d killed a man and destroyed his dream, and along with it, the dreams of all those who had come to this forlorn camp to work the rich mine with its easily obtained treasure. It was the dream of every prospector and miner. A pathway to the means that would fuel whatever he chose to do with the rest of his life. His pack now held just slightly more ore than it had when he’d fled the first disaster. His final thoughts before drifting into a fitful doze, rife with nightmarish images from his subconscious, were of failure and folly… Clementine’s Folly.
**** * ****
The Nok-Wa had all survived the blast, though at least one of them would never hear again and another had suffered a broken arm. The one who was left relatively unscathed, assumed the role of Nok-Cha. The others felt that it must be the Will of the Spirits, since he had no visible wounds. Many of the tribe had been pushed outside while the warriors had dug through the last bit of wall to reach the meat-folk. It took some time to settle things but eventually he decided that they would need to take over the mining camp to survive the current snowfall. First, they had to clear out the last of the miners… a feast to commemorate those lost and to celebrate their victory in driving away the outsiders was in order…
**** * ****
“Mr. Preston… Luke, wake up, we have company.” Luke pried open his dry, swollen eyes to see the face of Farmer, a youngish man, looking down at him in concern. “We have only your rifle and the old pistol that Pete has. Two of us have picks and Rosco has a wood axe. We could hear the cannibals ranging and rooting around the other structures. Pete took a peep outside and they seem to have gathered at the Whispering Pines Tavern. We need to get ready, they have started…” He was interrupted by a loud, whistling wail, not of wind, but of a tortured soul. It was followed quickly by chanting. The sounds did not begin quietly but rose in a cacophony and turned to screeches and howls.
The men were all on their feet. They had a total of twelve rounds of ammunition between Pete and Luke. Those two stood at the front with the others ranged behind them. The outer door slammed open and the inner door rattled furiously, “Let usssss, inn!!!” the voice of Roberts screeched. The door splintered, shots rang out, and people screamed in fury and agony: the fight to the finish was joined…
**** * ****
The next morning, the equipment supply party floated into sight. Flynn was relieved. They’d need all of the rafts to make it back to Whitehorse with the swollen ranks of refugees. Yet they would make it. There had been no sign of Luke Preston or the others, so shortly after Noon, they began to ferry people across the river. They would take the large trail that passed as a road back to the town. He looked around at the shattered faces, a couple of them literally broken from the fight in the mine. He noted Nana looking back up the slope; they would be in the last party to cross. “What are you looking at girl?”
She did not answer at first and he realized that she was likely looking with some last shred of hope to see her sisters. Na-kah had never made it to the river, she’d left the party along the way and never returned. He was a little startled when Nana finally answered. “The Old Man of the Mountain is watchin’ from behind those trees. Makin’ sure we leave. Prolly best we never come back.”
Flynn assumed that she meant some Native superstition, a Forest Spirit. He took her by the arm. “Come on, time to go he said in a low calm tone.” As he helped the young woman aboard the raft, he glanced back into the shadows of the trees and saw a face. A large face with crude, primitive features and glaring, savage eyes under a beetling brow. He blinked and shook his head, then scrabbled at the handle of his big .44. When he looked again, the face was gone. Perhaps it was never there, he said to himself. I will definitely have to compose a ballad
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2020.09.28 01:23 awsomemansteve1 [OC] The End

When one thinks of space, one thinks about all the amazing things that there is. All the amazing sights that they could see, from the solar arrays of the sun, all the way to the forests, of northern mars. They always think about the good that's up there, never the bad. The normal populace doesn't need to know that they are on the losing side for the first time. Civilians don't need to worry about that, all they need to worry about is getting to the factory on time so that they could churn out more sheets of folded irithium plates, then they could go home to their families and do it all over again.
No, they don't need to worry about that, after all, it was his job to worry about all that, not them. Not the normal populace, they don't have a worry in the world, and I have is worry. Whatever, it's not like he could do anything about it anyway. After all, he was just some lowly maintenance man, not a leader of a team, not the head of repair and refit, and most definitely not a soldier. Those guys go through some intense mental training if it can even be called that. Those poor bastards get their minds broken, and only the most essential of things are left behind. Sociable is not a word he would call those guys, more like a tool meant to be used and discarded right after use.
"All maintenance to the hub, all maintenance to the hub"
"Ah shit, again? What's that, three times today?" I whisper to myself, no one would care about what a lowly maintenance man had to say, so there was no point in watching what I was saying. Looking down at my mag-boots just to make sure they were properly tight before going. Clarence was always a hard ass for making sure we looked clean and proper. Yeah right, as if oil spills and cybernetic limbs is a proper look then I would fit in.
"Oh yeah, I look right at the other side of the airlock if I was caught looking like this." With a huff, I lift myself out of my bunk and straight onto the Steel-plated floor. My cybernetic legs taking in the extra energy with a whine. I was never a cybernetic specialist, never knew how they worked, I all I knew was that they looked cool, whenever I jumped up and landed again. The cool part is the tiny discs located on either side of my thighs spiny with a cool blue light as they absorbed the energy from my fall.
"Might as well get this over with." I sighed to myself, walking through the sliding door and taking a right I started my walk to the maintenance hub. walking past the gene jacked and cybernetically enhanced guards posted at every entranceway. Those guys could tare an old M1A1 Abrams in half for fun if they wanted to.
"Ha, as if they could think for themselves even." walking down along the glowing blue path laid out for me by me Cybernetic eye, I finally made my way to the maintenance hub. The maintenance hub was basically a zero-g sphere of irithium with a large holo-projector in the 'top' and 'bottom' of the sphere
Walking through the open door, I saw that almost everyone in maintenance was called. It could not be a good situation if almost everyone was called into here. I spotted Clarence, my team lead, and aligned myself so that I could make one jump without having to correct mid-jump. My cybernetic eye lighting up an angle for me to jump at and an estimated path. I took a leap and immediately fall on my face, looks like I forgot to disable my mag-boots again and the auto turn off feature kicked too late.
Getting up from my fall I make my jump again, and this time making sure my mag-boots are off. Using my micro thrusters that are built into my suit I slow myself to a stop next to Clarence.
" 'Bout time you got here, took you a whole 3 minutes to get here." He said in a gruff voice, Clarance always liked to smoke on his off time, even now I could smell the scent of tobacco on him.
"Yeah sorry boss, I was waking up from a nap" I lied, he gave a look of not believing me but didn't say anything.
"Just pay attention, alright?" Making sound less of a question and more of a demand.
"Don't worry, I've got my eyes on the holo-projector" I then turned my attention to the holo-projector at the center of the sphere. The micro thruster forcefully turning me to face the center of the room, then the speakers came on.
"Attention all maintenance personal, this is not a drill, we have an incoming etherian fleet in 1 hour. All team leads, prepare your teams for an alpha-red situation, and begin the preparations for the evacuation of the earth." Whispered talking slowly started to take over the sphere, the micro thrusters turning me to face my team lead.
"Alright, we've gone over this multiple times before, no need to panic, just get to the shuttle and we will begin our standard maintenance operations, got it?" Everyone nodded yes, I never really took the time to get to know these people, hell I barely knew their names. Now I'm meant to actually work with these people? Fuck, I know for a fact that they hate me, all I ever did was my work, never socialize, why would I need to talk to them about anything else except the current work?
we began our walk down to the hanger bays, walking in perfect form and unison that we are forced to learn in basic training. No one is talking, the only thing that could be heard is the clanking of our feet going down the, now, red-lighted hallways. Once we arrive at the hanger bays, the only thing I could hear is the yelling of mechanics and the sound of blowtorches welding re-welding certain plates back onto the shuttles.
The shuttles themselves were pretty tough themselves, black composite armor of, Smaller irithium plates, covered by folded depleted uranium sheets. Of course, the thing looked like a box, made for dropping containers. These things were multipurpose, from cargo to people, they were tough, meant to withstand a blast from a plasma infused grenade. Those things were meant to be able to melt through a wall of steel 2 meters thick. I of course didn't know how it worked, I'm just some lowly maintenance man. Not even my specialty, I worked in weapons repair, not vehicle repair. I fixed the big guns, and nothing else. Taking a seat towards the back of the container I hooked myself in and put on the straps.
Nothing was said, as we lifted off of the bay floors, nothing was said, as we felt the shuttles vibrate with the hum of the engine. Nothing was said as we felt our stomachs turn as we entered the atmosphere.
"Were headed to the South Dakota refugee station."Clarence suddenly said, the earpiece giving me a full clearance of his voice, it was almost like I could smell the tobacco on his breath. All of a sudden we rocked back and forth violently. My cybernetic eye informing me that we had a close encounter with an anti-air plasma round. Shit, it hasn't even been an hour, so who was shooting at us?
"Attention, all personal, the etherian fleet has made contact over the Atlantic ocean, again, the etherian fleet has made contact over the Atlantic ocean. This is not a drill the enemy has made planetfall in the current areas, the southern east coast of the United States, the German city of Hanover, Central Africa, and the Chinese city of Ningbo."
Again nothing was said, as we listened to the broadcast, nothing was said as we made landfall, nothing was said as we landed and got up from our seats and out onto the tarmac. The alarms of the refugee camp were going off, loud sirens blaring over the paniced cries of normal populace he currently stared at. All of a sudden out of nowehere, in the distance was a loud thump, that made my very bones vibrate. I looked towards the thump and the only thing that greeted me was the sight of an etherian harvester. It's sleek silver appearance accented by reflective chrome lines across it's pill like body. Suddenly, a small section bluged out of the ship, it far to small to see, then the next thing I knew, was being thrown back, like leaf in hurricane winds. I then hit my head and everything went black. Finaly, the end, were my last thoughts as my body soon vaporised from a secondary shot from the ship. Nothing was said as I no longer had a body or mind to think with, nothing was said as the refugee base I was at was suddenly gone, in a firey crater that looked like a metor hit, nothing was said as the very same ship that destroyed the refugee base suddenly turned around and disappered like it was never there.
submitted by awsomemansteve1 to HFY [link] [comments]


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Please watch: 'My Mother Doesn't Exist **19 years of lies' https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1b8MSciZF50 --~-- subscribe'10 Years' Camp Rock 3 Teaser trailer... Enjoy the videos and music you love, upload original content, and share it all with friends, family, and the world on YouTube. Watch the Camp Rock Cast perform “Too Cool” in the official music video from Camp Rock! Show some love in the comments below! Camp Rock. Start Streaming Nove... Subscribe: http://bit.ly/SubscribeToCapitalFM Get involved with the UK's No. 1 Hit Music Station! Subscribe: http://bit.ly/SubscribeToCapitalFM Website: Inst... Camp Rock 3 [Full Movie 2018]_Disney Luke Williams (Matthew 'Mdot' Finley) of Camp Star performs 'Fire'. Full scene. COPYRIGHT DISNEY. This is a fanmade, I hope you like it SERIA MEU SONHO? Hola a todos ¿Pueden creer que pasaron 10 años de Camp Rock? Les juro que siento que fue ayer cuando tenia ocho años y miraba la pelicula. Decidi hacer este ...