Having played all classes to 25, the skill tree has a bit more depth than at first glance, based on how you mix skills and passives across elements or combining statuses. There is room for experimentation and theorycrafting even at this level range. However, most passive nodes should be more impactful so each level feels like a significant progression especially since monsters scale up. There are many nodes that provide only 3% increase or chance which is hardly noticeable, compared to 4 or 5%. In the endgame there will be more lucky hit chance to make these nodes viable, but even so it would be nice if they are effective to use during the levelling process.
I first tried a Twisting Blades build with Poison Imbuement and Poison Trap that ended up very close to the strongest melee rogue boss-killing build, deleting Nilcar in seconds despite never dropping the Twisting Blades legendary. Then Ice Blades as a cooldown reducer for Inferno and free Meteors, which was janky but also kind of worked. Then a Lightning Shred build mixing in crit nodes and lucky hit to trigger lightning strikes on vulnerable and immobilized enemies via the Bad Omen node. Then a Shadow damage Necromancer based on Sever and Blighted Corpse Explosion. Then finally a Frenzy-Upheaval Whirlwind-Death Blow Iron Maelstrom build.
Some skills and combinations were really satisfying and encouraged fun playstyles so hopefully they will be endgame viable and receive some supporting items or nodes. Death Blow with the rewarding reset sound, and when you group enemies so you can hit elites multiple times. Iron Maelstrom with its combo feel, and encouraging an active Arsenal switching to reduce the cooldown. Twisting Blades then Dashing or Shadow Stepping to try to hit as many monsters as possible, while also completing the Inner Sight minigame. Poison Trap and how it knocks down enemies. Chain Lightning with its automatic targeting and range, and also bouncing off you so you try to stay near enough to bosses. Unstable Currents especially combined with increased attack speed for Arc Lash. Chaining Corpse Explosions.
Cataclysm felt useless because it hardly hits enemies. Disappointing the fantasy of a powerful Cataclysm following my Werewolf, similar to the Armageddon Werewolf build from Diablo II. Shred also felt clunky with its attack area, relatively low damage, and Spirit cost. Reducing Spirit costs for all Druid abilities would help the early game a lot, since other classes don't need to focus as much on resources early on.
Baseline attack speed could be slightly improved for melee weapons, to help with boss fights with short windows for attacking. There could be more differentiation between the different weapons particularly in speed and attack range, so they feel more different. Slightly longer reach for melee attacks, and even longer with two-handed weapons, would make melee builds feel smoother. Perhaps ranged attacks and spells could have some downsides too, like cast delay and slower projectile speed so the risk and reward between ranged and melee builds is more even.
It would be interesting to have passive nodes or aspects that turn support skills into main skills, and vice versa. The aspect that turns Wolves into Werewolves does this, for example, but companions should probably be viable on their own without aspects.
Although legendary drop rates will be much lower compared to the beta, aspects will be more accessible in the full game, since you can go to most dungeons around all regions of the open world, so balance-wise we can assume every class and build should have access to their strongest legendary powers early on, except maybe those that are locked behind high level strongholds.
Some of the numbers on aspects provide way too much of a damage multiplier, on top of significant utility or functionality changes. There is too much disparity in a build’s power before and after, especially at a single World Tier, which also becomes a problem for balancing difficulty. This also contrasts too much with how minor most other item affixes are, providing perhaps 5-7% damage conditionally. This is also a problem downstream of having these powers on items, since we have a limited number of item slots and the developers needed to squeeze in all the functionality and damage for each envisioned build. I suppose this becomes less of an issue at endgame when you have all the aspects you want already.
World Tier 2 is not difficult enough relative to World Tier 1. The jump should feel a bit more significant for normal encounters. I had friends who never played the genre before but had no trouble playing on World Tier 2, except for a handful of boss fights.
The Act 1 boss encounters feel less interesting and memorable than a lot of dungeon and stronghold bosses. The stagger mechanic on bosses should be explained somehow, apart from just seeing the word pop up occasionally during a fight. It should also be balanced so some builds can focus on staggering bosses to provide damage opportunities.
I think a lot of the dungeon complaints about repetitiveness and backtracking come down to flow and motivation. In the predecessors and other games of the genre, endgame content is also repetitive and less varied, but because players are motivated to complete their interesting builds with exciting items and currency, they don’t mind the grind. And with smooth ways to play the content, such as zooming through rifts or maps killing monsters, or rushing to bosses and deleting them then resetting, players don’t need to pay attention to the boring parts like finding keys to unlock the next area. It also feels more self-directed since the game is not telling you to complete sub-objectives to complete your main objective. So paradoxically making dungeons simpler might make them less boring. I do think with each season there will be more variety and endgame systems added, and some of the current dungeons can also be remade in the process.
Cellars are too low in content relative to the loading time, and too similar in layout. Perhaps they would feel better with more elites, waves of enemies, events, and even adding some chests to open. Apart from fights, they could have NPCs for conversations, or lore tidbits to discover.
The open world itself is fun to explore initially, but for repeated traversal could be made more engaging. More differences in monsters between day and night, and based on your quest and stronghold states. There could be more roaming packs or armies of monsters with elites or even bosses. Additional endgame content should be added to the open world, and not merely dungeons.
Miscellaneous There needs to be some explanation of how to quickly leave dungeons after completing the first one, since it’s not clear from the map UI or that it would be an option in the emote wheel. I did not know there was a Kor Dragan event after clearing the stronghold, so this information should be conveyed to players somehow. Codex of Power and Occultist should be enabled for all characters after the first, since if you have completed all dungeons with the first character you can't unlock it until level 25 with subsequent characters. And worst of all, why does your Chain Lightning target and kill dogs that follow you out of town?

Notes:

• I am EXTREMELY busy, but I check my messages and DMs at least ONCE per day. Please be patient and wait at least 24 hours for my response if I don't get back to you immediately.
  
• I buy only in Unrevealed Key Link Format or Plain Steam Keys. No gift links.
  
• For PayPal, I am in the US region and I only send via G&S. Please note there will be PayPal fees (including international/conversion and purchasing fees) to consider.
  
• All games that you sell to me should ideally be REGION-FREE. Please ensure the games are not region-locked/bound to a specific country.
  
• You must be willing to fill a spreadsheet with steam keys.
  

 
I pay with the following:
TF2 & PayPal
 

I BUY HB Games	with TF2	with PayPal	Currently Active Humble Bundle?
- Ratz Instagib -	0.8 TF2	$1.7 PP	-
20XX	0.4 TF2	$0.88 PP	-
5D Chess With Multiverse Time Travel	2.3 TF2	$5.14 PP	-
60 Parsecs!	0.7 TF2	$1.55 PP	-
7 Billion Humans	1.3 TF2	$2.9 PP	-
7 Days to Die	1.0 TF2	$2.1 PP	-
A Game of Thrones: The Board Game - Digital Edition	1.6 TF2	$3.42 PP	-
A Juggler's Tale	0.5 TF2	$1.06 PP	-
A Plague Tale: Innocence	1.4 TF2	$3.04 PP	-
AMID EVIL	0.5 TF2	$1.17 PP	-
AO Tennis 2	0.7 TF2	$1.57 PP	-
Absolver	0.8 TF2	$1.71 PP	-
Age of Empires Definitive Edition	0.9 TF2	$1.97 PP	-
Age of Empires III: Definitive Edition	1.6 TF2	$3.53 PP	-
Age of Wonders III Collection	0.8 TF2	$1.84 PP	-
Age of Wonders: Planetfall - Deluxe Edition	0.4 TF2	$0.91 PP	-
Age of Wonders: Planetfall	0.5 TF2	$1.01 PP	-
Airport CEO	1.0 TF2	$2.13 PP	-
Alan Wake Collector's Edition	0.8 TF2	$1.65 PP	-
Alien: Isolation	1.6 TF2	$3.45 PP	-
Aliens: Colonial Marines Collection	1.2 TF2	$2.55 PP	-
Among Us	1.4 TF2	$3.02 PP	-
Among the Sleep - Enhanced Edition	0.4 TF2	$0.85 PP	-
Ancestors: The Humankind Odyssey	1.9 TF2	$4.21 PP	-
Aragami	0.4 TF2	$0.92 PP	-
Arizona Sunshine	1.9 TF2	$4.21 PP	-
Arma 3 Apex Edition	1.5 TF2	$3.3 PP	-
Arma 3 Contact Edition	2.2 TF2	$4.89 PP	-
Arma 3 Jets	0.9 TF2	$1.9 PP	-
Arma 3 Marksmen	0.8 TF2	$1.66 PP	-
Arma 3	1.6 TF2	$3.6 PP	-
Assetto Corsa Competizione	2.4 TF2	$5.36 PP	-
Assetto Corsa Ultimate Edition	2.5 TF2	$5.56 PP	-
Assetto Corsa	0.8 TF2	$1.8 PP	-
Automobilista 2	3.1 TF2	$6.89 PP	-
Autonauts	0.4 TF2	$0.83 PP	-
BATTLETECH - Mercenary Collection	1.3 TF2	$2.88 PP	-
BIGFOOT	3.4 TF2	$7.52 PP	-
BIOMUTANT	1.6 TF2 Refer To My Other Thread	$3.48 PP Refer To My Other Thread	Humble Choice (Mar 2023)
BPM: BULLETS PER MINUTE	0.6 TF2	$1.22 PP	-
BROFORCE	1.0 TF2	$2.24 PP	-
Baba Is You	1.5 TF2	$3.3 PP	-
Back 4 Blood	4.2 TF2	$9.34 PP	-
Bad North: Jotunn Edition	0.8 TF2	$1.76 PP	-
Baldur's Gate II: Enhanced Edition	0.3 TF2	$0.72 PP	-
Baldur's Gate: Enhanced Edition	0.4 TF2	$0.84 PP	-
Bang-On Balls: Chronicles	2.8 TF2	$6.12 PP	-
Banished	2.0 TF2	$4.4 PP	-
Barotrauma	4.6 TF2	$10.15 PP	-
Batman - The Telltale Series	0.9 TF2	$1.9 PP	-
Batman Arkham Collection	1.1 TF2	$2.44 PP	-
Batman: Arkham Knight	0.5 TF2	$1.12 PP	-
Batman: The Enemy Within - The Telltale Series	0.9 TF2	$2.0 PP	-
Batman™: Arkham Knight Premium Edition	1.7 TF2	$3.74 PP	-
Batman™: Arkham Origins	0.6 TF2	$1.35 PP	-
Batman™: Arkham VR	0.7 TF2	$1.5 PP	-
Battlefleet Gothic: Armada II	1.5 TF2	$3.22 PP	-
Battlefleet Gothic: Armada	0.8 TF2	$1.74 PP	-
Battlestar Galactica Deadlock	0.5 TF2	$1.01 PP	-
Battlezone Gold Edition	1.9 TF2	$4.26 PP	-
Besiege	1.5 TF2	$3.23 PP	-
Beyond Blue	1.8 TF2	$3.99 PP	-
Beyond The Wire	0.4 TF2	$0.8 PP	-
Beyond Two Souls	1.6 TF2	$3.58 PP	-
BioShock Collection	1.0 TF2	$2.23 PP	-
BioShock Infinite	0.8 TF2	$1.79 PP	-
Bioshock Infinite: Season Pass	0.7 TF2	$1.52 PP	-
Blacksad - Under the Skin	0.4 TF2	$0.95 PP	-
Blair Witch	1.0 TF2	$2.26 PP	-
Blasphemous	0.9 TF2	$2.0 PP	-
Blood Bowl 2 - Legendary Edition	0.7 TF2	$1.61 PP	-
Blood Bowl 2	0.4 TF2	$0.84 PP	-
Bloodstained: Ritual of the Night	1.1 TF2	$2.51 PP	-
Boomerang Fu	0.6 TF2	$1.27 PP	-
Borderlands 2 VR	5.6 TF2	$12.21 PP	-
Borderlands 2	0.8 TF2	$1.85 PP	-
Borderlands 3 Super Deluxe Edition	2.8 TF2	$6.05 PP	-
Borderlands 3	1.4 TF2	$3.01 PP	-
Borderlands 3: Director's Cut	1.3 TF2	$2.84 PP	-
Borderlands: The Handsome Collection	2.7 TF2	$5.99 PP	-
Borderlands: The Pre-Sequel	0.5 TF2	$1.16 PP	-
Brutal Legend	0.6 TF2	$1.22 PP	-
Bully: Scholarship Edition	2.8 TF2	$6.12 PP	-
Bus Simulator 18	1.6 TF2	$3.56 PP	-
CHUCHEL Cherry Edition	0.4 TF2	$0.97 PP	-
Call of Cthulhu	0.7 TF2	$1.56 PP	-
Call of Cthulhu	0.7 TF2	$1.56 PP	-
Call of Duty: WWII	10.7 TF2	$23.51 PP	-
Call of Juarez: Gunslinger	0.5 TF2	$1.04 PP	-
Call to Arms - Basic Edition	2.2 TF2	$4.89 PP	-
Call to Arms - Gates of Hell: Ostfront	5.1 TF2	$11.21 PP	-
Car Mechanic Simulator 2018	0.7 TF2	$1.57 PP	-
Carcassonne - Tiles & Tactics	0.6 TF2	$1.21 PP	-
Celeste	1.0 TF2	$2.24 PP	-
Chess Ultra	0.7 TF2	$1.46 PP	-
Children of Morta	0.7 TF2	$1.55 PP	-
Chivalry 2	3.1 TF2	$6.88 PP	-
Chivalry: Medieval Warfare	0.5 TF2	$1.05 PP	-
Chronicon	1.5 TF2	$3.25 PP	-
Cities: Skylines Deluxe Edition	1.4 TF2	$2.98 PP	-
Clone Drone in the Danger Zone	2.9 TF2	$6.43 PP	-
Code Vein	1.5 TF2	$3.28 PP	-
Coffee Talk	1.9 TF2	$4.21 PP	-
Company of Heroes 2 - Ardennes Assault	2.0 TF2	$4.36 PP	-
Company of Heroes 2 - The Western Front Armies	0.8 TF2	$1.7 PP	-
Company of Heroes 2	0.5 TF2	$0.99 PP	-
Company of Heroes 2: Master Collection	5.7 TF2	$12.54 PP	-
Company of Heroes Complete Pack	5.1 TF2	$11.3 PP	-
Company of Heroes	1.5 TF2	$3.35 PP	-
Company of Heroes: Opposing Fronts	0.7 TF2	$1.61 PP	-
Conan Exiles	1.5 TF2	$3.27 PP	-
Construction Simulator 2015	1.1 TF2	$2.47 PP	-
Contagion	0.4 TF2	$0.91 PP	-
Control Ultimate Edition	1.2 TF2 Refer To My Other Thread	$2.63 PP Refer To My Other Thread	Humble Heroines: Warriors, Dreamers, and God Slayers
Crash Bandicoot™ N. Sane Trilogy	6.9 TF2	$15.2 PP	-
Creaks	0.3 TF2	$0.74 PP	-
Creed: Rise to Glory™	2.1 TF2	$4.53 PP	-
Crusader Kings II: Royal Collection	2.5 TF2	$5.55 PP	-
Crusader Kings III	3.7 TF2	$8.1 PP	-
Crysis® 2 Maximum Edition	0.8 TF2	$1.76 PP	-
Cultist Simulator Anthology Edition	2.2 TF2	$4.89 PP	-
Cultist Simulator	0.6 TF2	$1.41 PP	-
DEATHLOOP	1.8 TF2	$3.88 PP	-
DIRT 5	3.7 TF2	$8.06 PP	-
DMC - Devil May Cry	0.5 TF2	$1.16 PP	-
DRAGON BALL FIGHTERZ - Ultimate Edition	3.5 TF2	$7.76 PP	-
DRAGON BALL XENOVERSE 2	1.6 TF2	$3.42 PP	-
DRAGONBALL XENOVERSE Bundle Edition	1.1 TF2	$2.32 PP	-
DRIFT21	0.5 TF2	$1.03 PP	-
Dark Deity	0.4 TF2	$0.91 PP	-
Dark Souls II: Scholar of the First Sin	7.8 TF2	$17.12 PP	-
Dark Souls III	10.7 TF2	$23.63 PP	-
Darkest Dungeon	0.6 TF2	$1.3 PP	-
Darksiders Genesis	0.8 TF2	$1.77 PP	-
Darksiders II Deathinitive Edition	0.5 TF2	$1.01 PP	-
Darksiders III	0.8 TF2	$1.76 PP	-
Day of the Tentacle Remastered	0.4 TF2	$0.92 PP	-
DayZ	5.6 TF2	$12.41 PP	-
Dead Estate	1.5 TF2	$3.23 PP	-
Dead Island - Definitive Edition	0.8 TF2	$1.78 PP	-
Dead Island Definitive Collection	1.5 TF2	$3.27 PP	-
Dead Island Riptide - Definitive Edition	0.7 TF2	$1.55 PP	-
Dead Rising 2: Off the Record	1.0 TF2	$2.16 PP	-
Dead Rising 3 Apocalypse Edition	1.9 TF2	$4.09 PP	-
Dead Rising 4	0.8 TF2	$1.71 PP	-
Dead Rising	0.9 TF2	$2.0 PP	-
Dead Rising® 2	1.0 TF2	$2.1 PP	-
Death Road to Canada	0.6 TF2	$1.21 PP	-
Death's Gambit	0.7 TF2	$1.44 PP	-
Deep Rock Galactic	3.6 TF2	$8.02 PP	-
Descenders	0.4 TF2	$0.9 PP	-
Desperados III	1.0 TF2	$2.24 PP	-
Destroy All Humans	0.6 TF2	$1.41 PP	-
Deus Ex: Human Revolution - Director's Cut	0.6 TF2	$1.25 PP	-
Deus Ex: Mankind Divided	1.0 TF2	$2.23 PP	-
Devil May Cry HD Collection	1.3 TF2	$2.9 PP	-
Devil May Cry® 4 Special Edition	1.3 TF2	$2.91 PP	-
Dinosaur Fossil Hunter	0.4 TF2	$0.92 PP	-
Distance	0.7 TF2	$1.53 PP	-
Distant Worlds: Universe	0.6 TF2	$1.3 PP	-
Doom Eternal	1.9 TF2	$4.19 PP	-
Door Kickers	1.0 TF2	$2.2 PP	-
Dorfromantik	1.8 TF2	$4.04 PP	-
Dragon Ball FighterZ	1.6 TF2	$3.54 PP	-
Dragons Dogma - Dark Arisen	0.8 TF2	$1.67 PP	-
Drake Hollow	0.4 TF2	$0.91 PP	-
Drone Swarm	0.4 TF2	$0.98 PP	-
Duck Game	2.1 TF2	$4.7 PP	-
Dungeon Defenders: Awakened	3.2 TF2	$7.08 PP	-
Dungreed	0.8 TF2	$1.83 PP	-
Duskers	0.5 TF2	$0.99 PP	-
EARTH DEFENSE FORCE 4.1 The Shadow of New Despair	2.1 TF2	$4.63 PP	-
ELEX	0.7 TF2	$1.5 PP	-
EVERSPACE™	0.7 TF2	$1.6 PP	-
Elite: Dangerous	1.0 TF2	$2.25 PP	-
Endzone - A World Apart	0.6 TF2	$1.34 PP	-
Europa Universalis IV	1.0 TF2	$2.22 PP	-
Exanima	2.2 TF2	$4.82 PP	-
FTL: Faster Than Light	1.1 TF2	$2.51 PP	-
Fable Anniversary	2.5 TF2	$5.56 PP	-
Fallout 76	1.5 TF2	$3.36 PP	-
Fantasy General II	0.4 TF2	$0.97 PP	-
Farming Simulator 17	0.5 TF2	$1.11 PP	-
Firefighting Simulator - The Squad	3.8 TF2	$8.26 PP	-
First Class Trouble	0.4 TF2	$0.85 PP	-
For The King	0.8 TF2	$1.81 PP	-
Forager	1.3 TF2	$2.84 PP	-
Forts	2.5 TF2	$5.54 PP	-
Friday the 13th: The Game	2.2 TF2	$4.89 PP	-
Frostpunk	1.1 TF2	$2.48 PP	-
Full Metal Furies	0.5 TF2	$1.15 PP	-
Furi	0.7 TF2	$1.5 PP	-
GOD EATER 2 Rage Burst	1.0 TF2	$2.24 PP	-
GRID - Ultimate	0.9 TF2	$2.04 PP	-
GRIS	0.4 TF2	$0.85 PP	-
Gamedec	0.4 TF2	$0.77 PP	-
Gang Beasts	2.8 TF2	$6.15 PP	-
Garden Paws	0.8 TF2	$1.77 PP	-
Gas Station Simulator	1.4 TF2	$3.05 PP	-
Gears 5	4.3 TF2	$9.54 PP	-
Gears Tactics	4.0 TF2	$8.86 PP	-
Generation Zero®	1.1 TF2	$2.37 PP	-
Genital Jousting	0.5 TF2	$1.09 PP	-
Goat Simulator	0.4 TF2	$0.92 PP	-
Godlike Burger	1.3 TF2	$2.89 PP	-
Golf With Your Friends	1.1 TF2	$2.38 PP	-
Gordian Quest	1.6 TF2	$3.51 PP	-
Gotham Knights	4.8 TF2	$10.54 PP	-
GreedFall	0.6 TF2	$1.34 PP	-
Grim Dawn	2.1 TF2	$4.61 PP	-
Guacamelee! 2	0.6 TF2	$1.27 PP	-
HITMAN™2 Gold Edition	2.7 TF2	$5.83 PP	-
HIVESWAP: Act 2	1.9 TF2	$4.16 PP	-
HOT WHEELS UNLEASHED™	1.4 TF2	$3.16 PP	-
Hacknet	0.4 TF2	$0.91 PP	-
Haiku, the Robot	1.4 TF2	$3.14 PP	-
Hard Bullet	0.9 TF2	$1.97 PP	-
Hearts of Iron III Collection	0.5 TF2	$1.04 PP	-
Hearts of Iron IV: Battle for the Bosporus	1.4 TF2	$3.08 PP	-
Hearts of Iron IV: Cadet Edition	1.5 TF2	$3.36 PP	-
Hearts of Iron IV: Death or Dishonor	0.8 TF2	$1.72 PP	-
Hearts of Iron IV: Waking the Tiger	1.4 TF2	$2.99 PP	-
Heave Ho	0.5 TF2	$1.15 PP	-
Heavy Rain	1.6 TF2	$3.62 PP	-
Hell Let Loose	7.4 TF2	$16.18 PP	-
Hellblade: Senua's Sacrifice	0.8 TF2 Refer To My Other Thread	$1.72 PP Refer To My Other Thread	Humble Heroines: Warriors, Dreamers, and God Slayers
Hello, Neighbor!	0.4 TF2	$0.91 PP	-
Hero's Hour	1.0 TF2 Refer To My Other Thread	$2.19 PP Refer To My Other Thread	Humble Choice (Mar 2023)
Heroes of Hammerwatch	0.5 TF2	$1.13 PP	-
Hitman Absolution	0.7 TF2	$1.6 PP	-
Hitman Blood Money	0.6 TF2	$1.35 PP	-
Hitman Game of the Year Edition	1.2 TF2	$2.53 PP	-
Hollow Knight	2.2 TF2	$4.89 PP	-
Homefront	0.4 TF2	$0.98 PP	-
Homefront: The Revolution	0.8 TF2	$1.78 PP	-
Homeworld: Deserts of Kharak	0.4 TF2	$0.78 PP	-
Hotline Miami 2: Wrong Number Digital Special Edition	0.5 TF2	$1.09 PP	-
Hotline Miami 2: Wrong Number	0.5 TF2	$1.0 PP	-
Hotline Miami	0.7 TF2	$1.57 PP	-
House Flipper VR	0.8 TF2	$1.76 PP	-
House Flipper	2.4 TF2	$5.23 PP	-
Human: Fall Flat	0.7 TF2	$1.51 PP	-
HuniePop	0.4 TF2	$0.9 PP	-
Huntdown	1.2 TF2	$2.55 PP	-
Hurtworld	1.9 TF2	$4.09 PP	-
Hyper Light Drifter	0.8 TF2	$1.84 PP	-
Hypnospace Outlaw	0.7 TF2	$1.58 PP	-
I Am Fish	0.4 TF2	$0.83 PP	-
I Expect You To Die	1.2 TF2	$2.7 PP	-
I-NFECTED	5.6 TF2	$12.38 PP	-
IL-2 Sturmovik™: 1946	0.8 TF2	$1.77 PP	-
INSURGENCY	1.5 TF2	$3.26 PP	-
Imperator: Rome Deluxe Edition	0.7 TF2	$1.58 PP	-
Imperator: Rome	0.5 TF2	$1.01 PP	-
Injustice 2 Legendary Edition	1.1 TF2	$2.44 PP	-
Injustice 2	0.7 TF2	$1.51 PP	-
Injustice: Gods Among Us - Ultimate Edition	0.6 TF2	$1.24 PP	-
Into the Radius VR	4.9 TF2	$10.76 PP	-
Ion Fury	1.4 TF2	$3.09 PP	-
Iron Harvest	0.8 TF2	$1.83 PP	-
Jalopy	0.5 TF2	$1.06 PP	-
Job Simulator	8.3 TF2	$18.19 PP	-
Jurassic World Evolution 2	1.8 TF2 Refer To My Other Thread	$3.87 PP Refer To My Other Thread	Humble Choice (Mar 2023)
Jurassic World Evolution	0.4 TF2	$0.93 PP	-
Just Cause 2	0.5 TF2	$1.04 PP	-
Just Cause 3 XXL Edition	1.0 TF2	$2.13 PP	-
Just Cause 4: Complete Edition	1.0 TF2	$2.09 PP	-
KartKraft	2.8 TF2	$6.22 PP	-
Katamari Damacy REROLL	1.0 TF2	$2.23 PP	-
Katana ZERO	1.0 TF2	$2.11 PP	-
Keep Talking and Nobody Explodes	2.4 TF2	$5.29 PP	-
Kerbal Space Program	0.9 TF2	$1.88 PP	-
Killer Instinct	5.6 TF2	$12.21 PP	-
Killing Floor 2 Digital Deluxe Edition	0.9 TF2	$1.87 PP	-
Killing Floor 2	0.5 TF2	$1.2 PP	-
Killing Floor	0.5 TF2	$1.17 PP	-
Kingdom Come: Deliverance	1.4 TF2	$3.0 PP	-
Kingdom: Two Crowns	0.7 TF2	$1.58 PP	-
Kingdoms of Amalur: Re-Reckoning	0.9 TF2	$1.88 PP	-
King’s Bounty : Ultimate Edition	0.8 TF2	$1.73 PP	-
LEGO Batman 3: Beyond Gotham Premium Edition	0.5 TF2	$1.07 PP	-
LEGO Batman 3: Beyond Gotham	0.4 TF2	$0.82 PP	-
LEGO Batman Trilogy	1.3 TF2	$2.93 PP	-
LEGO Harry Potter: Years 1-4	0.5 TF2	$1.03 PP	-
LEGO Harry Potter: Years 5-7	0.7 TF2	$1.48 PP	-
LEGO Lord of the Rings	0.4 TF2	$0.95 PP	-
LEGO Star Wars III: The Clone Wars	0.5 TF2	$1.01 PP	-
LEGO Star Wars: The Complete Saga	0.5 TF2	$1.04 PP	-
LEGO® City Undercover	0.7 TF2	$1.53 PP	-
LEGO® DC Super-Villains Deluxe Edition	1.8 TF2	$3.9 PP	-
LEGO® DC Super-Villains	0.4 TF2	$0.83 PP	-
LEGO® Jurassic World™	0.4 TF2	$0.82 PP	-
LEGO® MARVEL's Avengers	0.3 TF2	$0.76 PP	-
LEGO® Marvel Super Heroes 2 Deluxe Edition	1.1 TF2	$2.34 PP	-
LEGO® Marvel Super Heroes 2	0.4 TF2	$0.9 PP	-
LEGO® Ninjago® Movie Video Game	0.3 TF2	$0.71 PP	-
LEGO® Star Wars™: The Force Awakens	0.5 TF2	$1.18 PP	-
LEGO® Worlds	1.6 TF2	$3.6 PP	-
Labyrinth City: Pierre the Maze Detective	0.7 TF2	$1.46 PP	-
Last Oasis	0.5 TF2	$1.12 PP	-
Late Shift	0.4 TF2	$0.97 PP	-
Layers of Fear 2	3.2 TF2	$7.1 PP	-
Layers of Fear	0.5 TF2	$1.11 PP	-
Legion TD 2	0.9 TF2	$1.97 PP	-
Len's Island	2.8 TF2	$6.23 PP	-
Lethal League Blaze	0.9 TF2	$1.91 PP	-
Lethal League	0.7 TF2	$1.54 PP	-
Library Of Ruina	2.9 TF2	$6.36 PP	-
Life is Feudal: Your Own	0.4 TF2	$0.83 PP	-
Little Misfortune	3.1 TF2	$6.89 PP	-
Little Nightmares Complete Edition	1.5 TF2	$3.26 PP	-
Little Nightmares	0.7 TF2	$1.64 PP	-
Lobotomy Corporation Monster Management Simulation	4.6 TF2	$10.21 PP	-
Lords of the Fallen Game of the Year Edition	0.8 TF2	$1.7 PP	-
Lost Ember	1.2 TF2	$2.73 PP	-
Lost Planet™: Extreme Condition	0.8 TF2	$1.81 PP	-
Luck be a Landlord	2.5 TF2	$5.45 PP	-
METAL GEAR SOLID V: THE PHANTOM PAIN	0.7 TF2	$1.55 PP	-
METAL GEAR SOLID V: The Definitive Experience	1.2 TF2	$2.55 PP	-
MORTAL KOMBAT 11	1.6 TF2	$3.44 PP	-
MX vs ATV Reflex	0.4 TF2	$0.8 PP	-
MX vs. ATV Unleashed	0.3 TF2	$0.73 PP	-
Mad Max	1.2 TF2	$2.58 PP	-
Mafia II: Definitive Edition	1.2 TF2	$2.62 PP	-
Mafia III: Definitive Edition	1.9 TF2	$4.09 PP	-
Mafia: Definitive Edition	2.1 TF2	$4.54 PP	-
Maneater	0.5 TF2	$1.08 PP	-
Manhunt	1.1 TF2	$2.52 PP	-
Mars Horizon	0.9 TF2	$2.04 PP	-
Marvel vs. Capcom: Infinite - Deluxe Edition	2.6 TF2	$5.79 PP	-
Mass Effect™ Legendary Edition	6.2 TF2	$13.54 PP	-
Max Payne 2: The Fall of Max Payne	0.5 TF2	$1.2 PP	-
Max Payne	0.8 TF2	$1.85 PP	-
MechWarrior 5: Mercenaries	2.2 TF2	$4.84 PP	-
Medal of Honor	1.9 TF2	$4.14 PP	-
Mega Man Legacy Collection	0.6 TF2	$1.25 PP	-
Men of War: Assault Squad 2 - Deluxe Edition	1.0 TF2	$2.21 PP	-
Men of War: Assault Squad 2 War Chest Edition	1.0 TF2	$2.24 PP	-
Men of War: Assault Squad 2	1.0 TF2	$2.24 PP	-
Messenger	0.4 TF2	$0.9 PP	-
Metro 2033 Redux	0.6 TF2	$1.31 PP	-
Metro Exodus	1.4 TF2	$3.04 PP	-
Metro Redux Bundle	1.0 TF2	$2.3 PP	-
Metro: Last Light Redux	1.0 TF2	$2.23 PP	-
Middle-earth: Shadow of Mordor Game of the Year Edition	0.8 TF2	$1.65 PP	-
Middle-earth™: Shadow of War™	0.7 TF2	$1.44 PP	-
Middleearth Shadow of War Definitive Edition	1.1 TF2	$2.48 PP	-
Mini Ninjas	0.4 TF2	$0.94 PP	-
Mirror's Edge	2.2 TF2	$4.85 PP	-
Miscreated	1.3 TF2	$2.88 PP	-
Monster Hunter: World	3.2 TF2	$6.96 PP	-
Monster Sanctuary	0.4 TF2	$0.96 PP	-
Monster Train	0.4 TF2	$0.77 PP	-
Moonlighter	0.4 TF2	$0.93 PP	-
Moons of Madness	1.7 TF2	$3.74 PP	-
Mordhau	1.6 TF2	$3.41 PP	-
Mortal Kombat X	0.7 TF2	$1.55 PP	-
Mortal Kombat XL	0.9 TF2	$1.88 PP	-
Mortal Shell	1.4 TF2	$3.18 PP	-
Motorcycle Mechanic Simulator 2021	0.8 TF2	$1.76 PP	-
Motorsport Manager	1.0 TF2	$2.24 PP	-
Move or Die	0.9 TF2	$2.0 PP	-
Moving Out	0.7 TF2	$1.49 PP	-
Mutant Year Zero: Road to Eden - Deluxe Edition	1.4 TF2	$3.04 PP	-
Mutant Year Zero: Road to Eden	0.9 TF2	$1.93 PP	-
My Friend Pedro	0.6 TF2	$1.27 PP	-
My Time At Portia	0.4 TF2	$0.96 PP	-
NARUTO SHIPPUDEN: Ultimate Ninja STORM 4 Road to Boruto	2.1 TF2	$4.72 PP	-
NASCAR Heat 5 - Ultimate Edition	0.4 TF2	$0.92 PP	-
Naruto Shippuden: Ultimate Ninja Storm 4	1.6 TF2	$3.59 PP	-
Naruto to Boruto Shinobi Striker - Deluxe Edition	1.2 TF2	$2.63 PP	-
Naruto to Boruto Shinobi Striker	0.4 TF2	$0.82 PP	-
Necromunda: Hired Gun	0.7 TF2	$1.56 PP	-
Neon Abyss	0.4 TF2	$0.97 PP	-
Ni no Kuni™ II: Revenant Kingdom - The Prince's Edition	2.4 TF2	$5.33 PP	-
Nine Parchments	1.4 TF2	$3.0 PP	-
No Time to Relax	1.6 TF2	$3.57 PP	-
Northgard	3.9 TF2	$8.55 PP	-
Not For Broadcast	0.5 TF2	$1.01 PP	-
ONE PIECE BURNING BLOOD	0.8 TF2	$1.69 PP	-
ONE PIECE PIRATE WARRIORS 3 Gold Edition	1.0 TF2	$2.13 PP	-
Offworld Trading Company™	0.7 TF2	$1.44 PP	-
One Step From Eden	0.4 TF2	$0.97 PP	-
Opus Magnum	1.2 TF2	$2.56 PP	-
Orcs Must Die! 3	1.6 TF2	$3.42 PP	-
Outlast 2	0.4 TF2	$0.91 PP	-
Outlast	0.4 TF2	$0.95 PP	-
Outward	1.3 TF2	$2.91 PP	-
Overcooked	0.7 TF2	$1.49 PP	-
Overcooked! 2	1.4 TF2	$3.1 PP	-
Overgrowth	0.5 TF2	$1.08 PP	-
Overlord II	0.4 TF2	$0.84 PP	-
PC Building Simulator	0.8 TF2	$1.74 PP	-
Paint the Town Red	1.9 TF2	$4.23 PP	-
Parkitect	4.3 TF2	$9.55 PP	-
Pathfinder: Kingmaker - Enhanced Plus Edition	1.0 TF2	$2.11 PP	-
Pathfinder: Wrath of the Righteous	0.9 TF2	$1.89 PP	-
Pathologic 2	0.7 TF2	$1.46 PP	-
Per Aspera	0.7 TF2	$1.52 PP	-
Phantom Doctrine	0.3 TF2	$0.73 PP	-
Pillars of Eternity Definitive Edition	0.7 TF2	$1.55 PP	-
Pistol Whip	5.6 TF2	$12.21 PP	-
Plague Inc: Evolved	1.5 TF2	$3.27 PP	-
Planescape: Torment: Enhanced Edition	0.4 TF2	$0.79 PP	-
Planet Coaster	1.6 TF2	$3.48 PP	-
Planet Zoo	1.7 TF2	$3.79 PP	-
Planetary Annihilation: TITANS	4.3 TF2	$9.55 PP	-
Portal Knights	0.8 TF2	$1.76 PP	-
Power Rangers: Battle for the Grid	3.3 TF2	$7.15 PP	-
PowerBeatsVR	0.9 TF2	$1.97 PP	-
PowerSlave Exhumed	1.6 TF2	$3.51 PP	-
Praey for the Gods	0.6 TF2 Refer To My Other Thread	$1.32 PP Refer To My Other Thread	Humble Heroines: Warriors, Dreamers, and God Slayers
Prehistoric Kingdom	1.3 TF2	$2.9 PP	-
Pro Cycling Manager 2019	1.2 TF2	$2.58 PP	-
Project Cars 3	10.1 TF2	$22.11 PP	-
Project Hospital	2.2 TF2	$4.83 PP	-
Project Wingman	1.0 TF2	$2.24 PP	-
Project Winter	0.9 TF2	$1.97 PP	-
Propnight	0.6 TF2 Refer To My Other Thread	$1.36 PP Refer To My Other Thread	Scary Games to Play in the Dark Bundle
Pumpkin Jack	0.4 TF2	$0.9 PP	-
Quantum Break	1.3 TF2	$2.91 PP	-
RESIDENT EVIL 3	2.0 TF2	$4.41 PP	-
RUGBY 20	1.2 TF2	$2.55 PP	-
RUINER	0.4 TF2	$0.84 PP	-
RWBY: Grimm Eclipse	3.0 TF2	$6.56 PP	-
Ragnaröck	3.1 TF2	$6.8 PP	-
Rain World	1.2 TF2	$2.57 PP	-
Raw Data	1.0 TF2	$2.13 PP	-
Re:Legend	1.0 TF2	$2.12 PP	-
Red Faction Guerrilla Re-Mars-tered	0.4 TF2	$0.95 PP	-
Red Matter	4.0 TF2	$8.83 PP	-
Resident Evil / biohazard HD REMASTER	0.8 TF2	$1.86 PP	-
Resident Evil 0 / biohazard 0 HD Remaster	0.6 TF2	$1.3 PP	-
Resident Evil 5 GOLD Edition	1.3 TF2	$2.83 PP	-
Resident Evil 5	0.9 TF2	$1.92 PP	-
Resident Evil 6	1.3 TF2	$2.82 PP	-
Resident Evil: Revelations 2 Deluxe Edition	1.9 TF2	$4.23 PP	-
Resident Evil: Revelations	0.5 TF2	$1.02 PP	-
Retro Machina	0.5 TF2	$1.01 PP	-
Risen 2 Dark Waters	0.4 TF2	$0.88 PP	-
Rising Storm 2: Vietnam	0.5 TF2	$1.04 PP	-
River City Girls	1.3 TF2	$2.91 PP	-
Rogue Heroes: Ruins of Tasos	0.5 TF2	$1.1 PP	-
RollerCoaster Tycoon Deluxe	1.0 TF2	$2.1 PP	-
Rollercoaster Tycoon 2: Triple Thrill Pack	1.1 TF2	$2.51 PP	-
Rubber Bandits	0.7 TF2	$1.5 PP	-
Running with Rifles	1.8 TF2	$3.86 PP	-
Ryse: Son of Rome	1.6 TF2	$3.49 PP	-
SCUM	2.6 TF2	$5.72 PP	-
SHENZHEN I/O	0.4 TF2	$0.97 PP	-
SOMA	1.9 TF2	$4.19 PP	-
SONG OF HORROR Complete Edition	0.4 TF2	$0.98 PP	-
STAR WARS® THE FORCE UNLEASHED II	0.8 TF2	$1.7 PP	-
STAR WARS™: Squadrons	1.9 TF2	$4.17 PP	-
SUPERHOT VR	2.0 TF2	$4.49 PP	-
SUPERHOT	0.7 TF2	$1.57 PP	-
SUPERHOT: MIND CONTROL DELETE	0.4 TF2	$0.87 PP	-
Sable	0.5 TF2 Refer To My Other Thread	$1.04 PP Refer To My Other Thread	Humble Heroines: Warriors, Dreamers, and God Slayers
Saint's Row The Third Remastered	2.0 TF2	$4.48 PP	-
Saints Row 2	0.6 TF2	$1.23 PP	-
Saints Row IV	0.8 TF2	$1.82 PP	-
Saints Row: The Third	0.6 TF2	$1.29 PP	-
Sanctum 2	0.5 TF2	$1.08 PP	-
Satisfactory	5.8 TF2	$12.71 PP	-
Scarlet Nexus	2.7 TF2	$5.84 PP	-
Secret Neighbor	0.5 TF2	$1.14 PP	-
Serious Sam 2	0.7 TF2	$1.53 PP	-
Serious Sam 4	2.5 TF2	$5.47 PP	-
Serious Sam: Siberian Mayhem	2.0 TF2	$4.5 PP	-
Severed Steel	1.2 TF2	$2.58 PP	-
Shadow Man Remastered	0.9 TF2	$1.98 PP	-
Shadow Warrior 2	0.8 TF2	$1.73 PP	-
Shadow of the Tomb Raider	3.1 TF2	$6.78 PP	-
Shantae and the Pirate's Curse	0.5 TF2	$1.18 PP	-
Shenmue 3	0.7 TF2	$1.43 PP	-
Shenmue I & II	0.7 TF2	$1.43 PP	-
Shining Resonance Refrain	0.4 TF2	$0.94 PP	-
Sid Meier's Civilization V	0.8 TF2	$1.65 PP	-
Sid Meier's Civilization VI : Platinum Edition	2.7 TF2	$5.87 PP	-
Sid Meier's Civilization VI	0.8 TF2	$1.84 PP	-
Sid Meier's Civilization® V: The Complete Edition	1.9 TF2	$4.15 PP	-
Sid Meiers Civilization IV: The Complete Edition	0.8 TF2	$1.74 PP	-
Siege of Centauri	0.5 TF2	$1.15 PP	-
SimCasino	0.6 TF2	$1.35 PP	-
Skullgirls 2nd Encore	0.9 TF2	$1.97 PP	-
Slap City	1.0 TF2	$2.25 PP	-
Slay the Spire	2.5 TF2	$5.56 PP	-
Sleeping Dogs: Definitive Edition	0.7 TF2	$1.57 PP	-
Slime Rancher	1.5 TF2	$3.3 PP	-
Sniper Elite 3	0.5 TF2	$1.14 PP	-
Sniper Elite 4	1.2 TF2	$2.67 PP	-
Sniper Elite V2 Remastered	0.8 TF2	$1.72 PP	-
Sniper Elite V2	0.4 TF2	$0.94 PP	-
Sniper Ghost Warrior 3	0.6 TF2	$1.37 PP	-
Sniper Ghost Warrior Contracts	0.5 TF2	$1.11 PP	-
Sonic Adventure DX	0.5 TF2	$1.04 PP	-
Sonic Adventure™ 2	0.5 TF2	$1.16 PP	-
Sonic Lost World	1.6 TF2	$3.44 PP	-
Sonic Mania	0.7 TF2	$1.58 PP	-
Sorcery! Parts 1 & 2	0.6 TF2	$1.27 PP	-
Soul Calibur VI	1.1 TF2	$2.34 PP	-
Source of Madness	0.5 TF2	$1.13 PP	-
Space Engineers	2.1 TF2	$4.56 PP	-
Space Haven	0.6 TF2	$1.33 PP	-
Spec Ops: The Line	0.8 TF2	$1.65 PP	-
SpeedRunners	0.6 TF2	$1.38 PP	-
Spelunky	0.7 TF2	$1.5 PP	-
Spirit Of The Island	1.3 TF2	$2.91 PP	-
Splendor	0.6 TF2	$1.34 PP	-
SpongeBob SquarePants: Battle for Bikini Bottom - Rehydrated	1.2 TF2	$2.6 PP	-
Spyro™ Reignited Trilogy	3.4 TF2	$7.48 PP	-
Star Renegades	1.3 TF2	$2.91 PP	-
Star Trek: Bridge Crew	3.4 TF2	$7.49 PP	-
Star Wars Republic Commando™	0.3 TF2	$0.75 PP	-
Star Wars® Empire at War™: Gold Pack	0.9 TF2	$2.07 PP	-
Starbound	0.7 TF2	$1.58 PP	-
Starpoint Gemini Warlords	1.6 TF2	$3.44 PP	-
State of Decay 2: Juggernaut Edition	2.8 TF2	$6.08 PP	-
Staxel	0.5 TF2	$1.18 PP	-
SteamWorld Quest: Hand of Gilgamech	0.9 TF2	$1.88 PP	-
Steel Division: Normandy 44	0.6 TF2	$1.38 PP	-
Stellaris Galaxy Edition	1.2 TF2	$2.58 PP	-
Stellaris: Lithoids Species Pack	0.9 TF2	$1.88 PP	-
Stick Fight: The Game	0.3 TF2	$0.75 PP	-
Strategic Command WWII: World at War	1.9 TF2	$4.21 PP	-
Street Fighter 30th Anniversary Collection	2.2 TF2	$4.82 PP	-
Street Fighter V	0.7 TF2	$1.44 PP	-
Streets of Rogue	1.1 TF2	$2.44 PP	-
Stronghold 2: Steam Edition	0.9 TF2	$1.95 PP	-
Stronghold Crusader 2	0.7 TF2	$1.43 PP	-
Stronghold Crusader HD	0.5 TF2	$1.07 PP	-
Styx: Shards Of Darkness	0.6 TF2	$1.29 PP	-
Subnautica	3.9 TF2	$8.55 PP	-
Summer in Mara	0.4 TF2	$0.92 PP	-
Sunless Skies	0.6 TF2	$1.36 PP	-
Sunset Overdrive	1.2 TF2	$2.67 PP	-
Super Meat Boy	0.3 TF2	$0.72 PP	-
Superliminal	1.9 TF2	$4.11 PP	-
Supraland Six Inches Under	1.5 TF2	$3.34 PP	-
Supreme Commander 2	0.9 TF2	$1.93 PP	-
Surgeon Simulator: Experience Reality	0.8 TF2	$1.82 PP	-
Survive the Nights	0.8 TF2	$1.76 PP	-
Surviving the Aftermath	0.4 TF2	$0.95 PP	-
Sword Art Online Fatal Bullet - Complete Edition	4.9 TF2	$10.86 PP	-
Sword Art Online Hollow Realization Deluxe Edition	1.0 TF2	$2.13 PP	-
Syberia: The World Before	0.8 TF2 Refer To My Other Thread	$1.84 PP Refer To My Other Thread	Humble Heroines: Warriors, Dreamers, and God Slayers
Synth Riders	3.1 TF2	$6.89 PP	-
TEKKEN 7	1.3 TF2	$2.91 PP	-
THIEF	0.7 TF2	$1.61 PP	-
TT Isle of Man Ride on the Edge 2	1.6 TF2	$3.56 PP	-
Tales of Berseria	0.8 TF2	$1.76 PP	-
Tales of Berseria	0.8 TF2	$1.76 PP	-
Tales of Symphonia	1.5 TF2	$3.25 PP	-
Tales of Zestiria	0.6 TF2	$1.24 PP	-
Talisman: Digital Edition	0.4 TF2	$0.98 PP	-
Tank Mechanic Simulator	1.0 TF2	$2.13 PP	-
Team Sonic Racing™	1.8 TF2	$3.9 PP	-
Telltale Batman Shadows Edition	0.9 TF2	$1.9 PP	-
Terraforming Mars	0.9 TF2	$1.88 PP	-
Terraria	1.7 TF2	$3.71 PP	-
The Ascent	1.0 TF2	$2.09 PP	-
The Battle of Polytopia	0.4 TF2	$0.9 PP	-
The Beast Inside	0.4 TF2	$0.79 PP	-
The Blackout Club	5.6 TF2 Refer To My Other Thread	$12.21 PP Refer To My Other Thread	Scary Games to Play in the Dark Bundle
The Dark Pictures Anthology: Little Hope	1.3 TF2	$2.88 PP	-
The Dark Pictures Anthology: Man of Medan	1.6 TF2	$3.46 PP	-
The Darkness II	0.5 TF2	$1.0 PP	-
The Dungeon Of Naheulbeuk: The Amulet Of Chaos	0.5 TF2	$1.08 PP	-
The Escapists 2	0.8 TF2	$1.83 PP	-
The Escapists	0.6 TF2	$1.34 PP	-
The Henry Stickmin Collection	0.7 TF2	$1.5 PP	-
The Intruder	1.1 TF2	$2.38 PP	-
The Jackbox Party Pack 2	1.2 TF2	$2.58 PP	-
The Jackbox Party Pack 3	3.1 TF2	$6.87 PP	-
The Jackbox Party Pack 4	1.9 TF2	$4.21 PP	-
The Jackbox Party Pack 5	3.1 TF2	$6.8 PP	-
The Jackbox Party Pack 6	2.5 TF2	$5.53 PP	-
The Jackbox Party Pack	1.1 TF2	$2.33 PP	-
The LEGO Movie 2 Videogame	0.3 TF2	$0.75 PP	-
The Legend of Heroes: Trails in the Sky	1.3 TF2	$2.91 PP	-
The Long Dark	1.9 TF2	$4.17 PP	-
The Long Dark: Survival Edition	0.4 TF2	$0.78 PP	-
The Ship: Murder Party	0.4 TF2	$0.83 PP	-
The Stanley Parable	2.1 TF2	$4.69 PP	-
The Surge 2	0.7 TF2	$1.46 PP	-
The Survivalists	0.9 TF2	$1.99 PP	-
The Talos Principle	0.6 TF2	$1.41 PP	-
The Walking Dead: A New Frontier	0.3 TF2	$0.71 PP	-
The Walking Dead: The Final Season	0.3 TF2	$0.71 PP	-
The Walking Dead: The Telltale Definitive Series	1.9 TF2	$4.17 PP	-
The Witness	4.3 TF2	$9.48 PP	-
The Wolf Among Us	1.1 TF2	$2.34 PP	-
This War of Mine: Complete Edition	0.7 TF2	$1.56 PP	-
Titan Quest Anniversary Edition	0.6 TF2	$1.36 PP	-
Tomb Raider	1.4 TF2	$3.02 PP	-
Torchlight II	0.7 TF2	$1.44 PP	-
Total Tank Simulator	0.4 TF2	$0.79 PP	-
Total War SHOGUN 2	1.5 TF2	$3.23 PP	-
Total War Shogun 2 Collection	1.6 TF2	$3.44 PP	-
Total War: ATTILA	1.8 TF2	$3.93 PP	-
Total War: Empire - Definitive Edition	1.4 TF2	$3.07 PP	-
Total War: Napoleon - Definitive Edition	1.4 TF2	$3.0 PP	-
Total War: Rome II - Emperor Edition	2.4 TF2	$5.17 PP	-
Total War™: WARHAMMER®	2.8 TF2	$6.17 PP	-
Totally Accurate Battle Simulator	3.1 TF2	$6.8 PP	-
Tour de France 2020	0.6 TF2	$1.33 PP	-
Tower Unite	3.4 TF2	$7.55 PP	-
Townscaper	0.5 TF2	$1.17 PP	-
Trailmakers Deluxe Edition	0.9 TF2	$1.91 PP	-
Trailmakers	0.9 TF2	$1.91 PP	-
Train Simulator Classic	0.7 TF2 Refer To My Other Thread	$1.44 PP Refer To My Other Thread	Train Simulator Classic: On the Fast Track Bundle
Train Station Renovation	0.4 TF2	$0.93 PP	-
Tribes of Midgard	0.7 TF2	$1.52 PP	-
Tricky Towers	1.6 TF2	$3.57 PP	-
Trine 2: Complete Story	1.0 TF2	$2.3 PP	-
Trine 4: The Nightmare Prince	0.6 TF2	$1.25 PP	-
Tropico 5	0.3 TF2	$0.74 PP	-
Tropico 5 – Complete Collection	0.8 TF2	$1.65 PP	-
Tropico 6 El-Prez Edition	2.4 TF2	$5.24 PP	-
Tropico 6	2.1 TF2	$4.61 PP	-
Turmoil	0.3 TF2	$0.75 PP	-
Turok 2: Seeds of Evil	0.3 TF2	$0.75 PP	-
Turok	0.4 TF2	$0.92 PP	-
Two Point Hospital	2.1 TF2	$4.65 PP	-
Tyranny - Gold Edition	0.6 TF2	$1.39 PP	-
Ultimate Chicken Horse	1.5 TF2	$3.24 PP	-
Ultimate Marvel vs. Capcom 3	1.5 TF2	$3.37 PP	-
Ultra Street Fighter IV	0.4 TF2	$0.98 PP	-
Undertale	1.9 TF2	$4.19 PP	-
Universe Sandbox	3.3 TF2	$7.15 PP	-
Unrailed!	0.9 TF2	$2.04 PP	-
Until You Fall	0.6 TF2	$1.39 PP	-
VTOL VR	4.6 TF2	$10.16 PP	-
Vacation Simulator	4.6 TF2	$10.21 PP	-
Vagante	0.4 TF2	$0.79 PP	-
Valkyria Chronicles 4 Complete Edition	1.1 TF2	$2.37 PP	-
Valkyria Chronicles™	0.9 TF2	$1.98 PP	-
Vampyr	1.4 TF2	$3.04 PP	-
Visage	5.6 TF2 Refer To My Other Thread	$12.24 PP Refer To My Other Thread	Scary Games to Play in the Dark Bundle
Viscera Cleanup Detail	1.9 TF2	$4.09 PP	-
Void Bastards	0.4 TF2	$0.83 PP	-
Volcanoids	0.9 TF2	$1.91 PP	-
Vox Machinae	3.1 TF2	$6.74 PP	-
WRATH: Aeon of Ruin	0.4 TF2	$0.82 PP	-
WRC 8 FIA World Rally Championship	1.0 TF2	$2.23 PP	-
Wargame: Red Dragon	6.0 TF2	$13.18 PP	-
Warhammer 40,000: Dawn of War - Master Collection	1.3 TF2	$2.77 PP	-
Warhammer 40,000: Dawn of War II - Grand Master Collection	1.6 TF2	$3.62 PP	-
Warhammer 40,000: Dawn of War II: Retribution	0.5 TF2	$1.18 PP	-
Warhammer 40,000: Gladius - Relics of War	0.6 TF2	$1.23 PP	-
Warhammer 40,000: Gladius - Tyranids	2.6 TF2	$5.78 PP	-
Warhammer 40,000: Space Marine Collection	1.5 TF2	$3.3 PP	-
Warhammer 40,000: Space Marine	1.5 TF2	$3.27 PP	-
Warhammer: Chaosbane - Slayer Edition	1.0 TF2	$2.11 PP	-
Warhammer: End Times - Vermintide Collector's Edition	0.6 TF2	$1.33 PP	-
Warhammer: Vermintide 2 - Collector's Edition	1.1 TF2	$2.51 PP	-
Warhammer: Vermintide 2	1.1 TF2	$2.41 PP	-
Warhammer® 40,000™: Dawn of War® III	1.6 TF2	$3.42 PP	-
Warpips	0.7 TF2	$1.54 PP	-
Wasteland 3	1.1 TF2	$2.48 PP	-
We Happy Few	0.7 TF2	$1.54 PP	-
We Need to Go Deeper	1.3 TF2	$2.91 PP	-
We Were Here Too	1.5 TF2	$3.23 PP	-
White Day : a labyrinth named school	0.5 TF2	$1.01 PP	-
Who's Your Daddy	1.9 TF2	$4.23 PP	-
Wingspan	0.9 TF2	$2.02 PP	-
Winkeltje: The Little Shop	1.0 TF2	$2.09 PP	-
Witch It	1.8 TF2	$3.93 PP	-
Wizard of Legend	0.9 TF2	$1.91 PP	-
World War Z: Aftermath	3.7 TF2	$8.2 PP	-
Worms Ultimate Mayhem - Deluxe Edition	0.3 TF2	$0.74 PP	-
Worms W.M.D	1.0 TF2	$2.17 PP	-
Worms World Party Remastered	0.4 TF2	$0.88 PP	-
Wrench	2.8 TF2	$6.23 PP	-
Wurm Unlimited	0.7 TF2	$1.5 PP	-
X4: Foundations	5.2 TF2	$11.34 PP	-
X4: Split Vendetta	1.7 TF2	$3.83 PP	-
XCOM 2 Collection	1.0 TF2	$2.24 PP	-
XCOM: Enemy Unknown Complete Pack	0.7 TF2	$1.57 PP	-
XCOM: Ultimate Collection	0.8 TF2	$1.86 PP	-
XCOM®: Chimera Squad	0.3 TF2	$0.71 PP	-
Yakuza 0	1.2 TF2	$2.74 PP	-
Yakuza 3 Remastered	1.2 TF2	$2.53 PP	-
Yakuza Kiwami 2	1.6 TF2	$3.57 PP	-
Yakuza Kiwami	1.6 TF2	$3.44 PP	-
Yonder: The Cloud Catcher Chronicles	1.9 TF2	$4.17 PP	-
YouTubers Life	0.7 TF2	$1.57 PP	-
Yuppie Psycho	0.3 TF2	$0.71 PP	-
ZERO Sievert	3.4 TF2	$7.56 PP	-
Zeno Clash 2	0.3 TF2	$0.71 PP	-
Zombie Army Trilogy	0.8 TF2	$1.67 PP	-
biped	0.8 TF2	$1.86 PP	-
rFactor 2	1.1 TF2	$2.44 PP	-
while True: learn() Chief Technology Officer Edition	0.7 TF2	$1.6 PP	-

 
IGS Rep Page:
https://www.reddit.com/IGSRep/comments/ggsaik/fappidydats_igs_rep_page/
 
SteamTrades Rep Page (1000+):
https://www.steamtrades.com/use76561198097671494
 
GameTrade Rep Page:
https://www.reddit.com/GameTradeRep/comments/ggrz1y/fappidydats_gametrade_rep_page/?
 
SGSFlair Rep Page:
https://www.reddit.com/sgsflaicomments/ggag04/flair_profile_ufappidydat/

I'm not a fighting game player. I bought smash bros ultimate, and it was... alright. I've played smash throughout my childhood, so it was less that I was interested in it as a fighting game and more as a game that I usually buy when I see a new one come out. Recently, I think because I saw the preview for the league of legends fighter game (which looks cool), I started getting spammed with videos about Guilty Gear and started watching them. I'm now reasonably interested in the game... but I'm not sure about a few things.
​
Mainly what I want to know is:

• Is Guilty Gear Strive the current game? It's on steam, that's the right one right?
• Controller? Keyboard/Mouse?
• I see there's a lot of DLC, it looks like it's for characters, is there extra content other than characters and what looks like maybe skins? Is this ultimate edition that costs twice the normal game worth it for someone like me? Is the main cast a diverse set of characters that I can sink my teeth into? or does the DLC really fill out the variety? My friends who like fighting games tell me most people basically one trick a single character so maybe that's not important?
• Is there enough content in the game for someone who doesn't necessarily plan to play online a bunch? I guess I'm asking about pve content.
• Is the game approachable for newbies? That seems to be the consensus in the videos I watched, but I figure it's worth asking here
• Why is that blond character wearing a giant handcuff as a belt? I figure the real answer is going to be much more amusing than what I've been imagining in my head

I know that's a lot, but my interest in piqued, and when that happens, I tend to dive in headfirst.

From The Sun, March 28, 1915.
The ryot crouched in his hut and moaned with his face to the plastered wall. He rent his rage and tore his hair and wept for his ruler’s fall. The children hushed their simple songs and whimpered and wailed with dread. Sir Pertab Singh, their prince, their king, had dared to touch the dead.
The white sahibs had warned him though the slain was of their kin. They knew the awful laws of caste—to touch the dead is sin. “’Tis the son of a friend and comrade. His father is not here.” Sir Pertab gently bore the corpse and laid it on the bier.
Five hundred priests of Brahma’s shrine awaited at the morn To make an ancient honored name a byword and a scorn. Calmly cool, Sir Pertab heard his fate all men might know— To be with outcast sweepers as the lowest of the low.
“What care I for your paltry ban?” and as they paused he smiled. “If naught can soil me save your clan, then I am undefiled. Mine is a higher, nobler caste, of which you do not know, A caste as great as thine is mean—as high as thine is low.
“A caste that was old and honored ere your upstart creed began— The caste of a loyal soldier. The creed of an honest man Who serves men less with a weakling word, and more with a well wrought deed— Who lives for the good of his kin and kind, and dies for his country’s need.
“The caste of a man—his word a law which he obeys the first— Of one who well to serve the best will ever dare the worst— Who stands unawed by a host in arms, nor quails at a parting breath— Walks straight and true with a friend unto—and beyond—the gates of death.”
The high priests gasped in wonderment, the vast throng gazed in awe That the will of a man was strong to stand in the face of an iron law. The pillars of caste that a realm had reared to shadow a man and king Wavered and crumbled and disappeared—and left Sir Pertab Singh.

Riku: "I can smell you, Ansem. And it's not a good smell."
Ansem's Heartless: "Oh no, Master! We need to do something about this smell of darkness!"
Ansem: "Yes, I can't go around smelling like a crack of darkness all the time. What if people start to notice?"
Ansem's Heartless: "Fear not, Master! I have just the thing to fix this."
Ansem: "What is it?"
Ansem's Heartless: "It's the new Ultima Beauty cream! Guaranteed to make you smell like ancient tomes and arcane knowledge.
Ansem: "Hmm, sounds promising. Let's give it a try."
And so, Ansem's Heartless started to bathe him in the Ultima Beauty cream, small shadow heartless were scrubbing the masters toe nails and giving him a manicure hoping to rid him of his foul smell. But as they applied the cream, they started to notice something strange.
Ansem's Heartless: "Master, are you feeling okay? You look a little...sparkly."
Ansem: "What do you mean?" *Ansem angrily removes the cucumber slices covering his eyes and tosses the shadow heartless off his toes.
Ansem's Heartless: "Your skin! It's shining like the light of Kingdom Hearts itself!"
Ansem: "Well, that's ...unexpected. But I suppose it's better than smelling like Oogie Boogie."
Riku: hearing all the commotion bursts into the room suddenly appearing "What the heck is going on here? Ansem!! Why are you glowing like a light bulb?" I'm going to tell Maelificitint what you're doing with her cauldron when she's not here!!
Ansem: Silence boy! "It's the Ultima Beauty cream. It's supposed to make me smell good, but it seems to have had a different effect."
Riku: "Uh, yeah. I think you need to lay off the beauty products for a while, Ansem."
Ansem: "But I can't just walk around smelling like darkness all the time! What will people think?"
Riku:..... is that moogle slippers?.
Ansem: ...angrily stares at riku while only wearing his moogleshop squeaky slippers.
Ansem's Heartless: "Oh no, Master! We need to fix this! Maybe we can add some darkness to the cream to balance out the light." *stars throwing random Heartless into malieficent's cauldron.
Ansem: "No." *Ansem banishes his guardian and turns towards the mirror revealing his bare sparkling bottom to Riku. The magic mirror tries to keep his composure as Ansem takes in his new look.
Riku: Darn, no wonder he gets all the women like Maelificent. She's always sending me on all these missions. Now I know the true reason! %&*$ you Ansem, you took my woman, AAARGH, Riku screamed. He charged at Ansem, who remained unmoving and now admiring himself in the mirror.
Riku: *suddenly slips on all the lotion and knocks himself unconscious. Ansem's guardian's arm stealthily stretches into the doorway to drag Riku from the room as not to disturb Master from his newfound good mood.
As Ansem basked in his newfound glow, he couldn't help but feel a little embarrassed by his sparkly appearance. But he soon realized that it wasn't so bad after all - in fact, soon, people were starting to compliment him on his radiant skin.
He walked through the halls of Castle Oblivion with a newfound confidence, his sparkling cheeks lighting up the otherwise dreary atmosphere. Even the Heartless seemed to be afraid of him now, cowering in his presence.
One thing was for certain: he was never going to underestimate the power of beauty products again. Even the halls of castle oblivion were bleached permanently white. Heck, even the players noticed ansems new found lightness alarming.
True story, Beware. Don't buy products from amateur moogle chemists in Traverse Town. Self advocate and love yourself. You could end up having to buy ?alieficent a new cast iron cauldron when the Ultima eats a hole through it.

So because Rito doesn't seem interest in writing lore for their champs, I've decided that I would do it myself. To that end, I've made a story about the smoke and mirrors lady, hope y'all enjoy!
​
These last months had been extremely tiresome for Leblanc. She may not have shown it, but the destruction of two of the orphanages really had taken a toll on her mental as of late. First the Ravenbloom academy, burnt to the ground by the fury of Tybaulk and its wielder. Then another academy, destroyed thoroughly with ferromancy. She started to wonder if she would even be able to buy time for the world, should he come back. Her fingers tapped on the table before her. She was waiting for her closest subordinates to distribute orders. Well, that’s what she wanted them to think. They were merely another pawn in her games, just important enough to fetch bigger fishes and opportunities. No, the real interest was to come after, when the informations would come. The important informations. The meeting went smoothly, nothing of real value being told either way. She just sent them to catch rumors, or hints, to powerful individuals or weapons. But after that… Leblanc had already heard of stories about a dark mage annihilating rivals in the plains between Demacia and Noxus. How entire villages were saved by an “Evil” entity, to then spread the word of said “Evil”. She never paid much mind, as they were just that: stories, and quite surreal at that. But with this new intel, well…
Veigar was feeling… good. A heightened happiness coming from the fact that all he had shown his power to were afraid, felt tiny and weak in comparison. After all, he had successfully beaten down every warlock, mage and whatnot he came across. Humans everywhere were absolutely terrified by just the telling of his name, so much that they didn’t mention him at all! His grand machine had been of great help in this deed, letting him decuple his power, and strike fear into anyone that posed their eyes on his majestic presence!

• NUMBER 3! he called.

The helmeted yordle rushed upstairs.

• What is it Lord veigar? he asked zealously.
• Where are we on the reparations?
• Soon lord veigar, it will be ready again soon!
• Magnificent my less-idiotic-than-average lackey! You may now go back to work, I will need it again really soon.
• You honor me. says the yordle on his way down.

Veigar looked at himself in the mirror, wishing to contemplate his grandeur once again. The mirror mage had made this one specifically for him, on his demand for, hum… attribute enhancement. But as he laid his eyes on the reflective surface, what he saw was far from his imposing stature, instead replaced by a… Human face?

• GWAR! He screamed in surprise, jumping across the room. WHAT TRICKERY IS THIS, WHERE IS MY GRANDIOSE REFLECTION! I ASK EXPLICATIONS!

Infiltrating this yordle infested fortress had been far easier than anticipated. For a supposed “invincible dark sorcerer”, this Veigar was pretty laxist when it came to security. Though she did sense a great magical power within him. She tried to make contact via a mirror, as she did countless times to several individuals across time. Seeing the little being’s reaction, she seriously started to wonder if her decision had been wise to come in the first place. This thought was short-lived however, when Veigar cast a binding spell over the mirror.

• Trying to sneakily attack the INVINCIBLE lord Veigar I see! He cackled. Well you’ll learn that NO ONE can dare to challenge ME without CONSEQUENCES!

While he spent his time monologuing, Leblanc studied the cage she had been put into. It was in fact fairly potent, almost able to contain even her. Choosing to remain inside for the negotiations, she spoke.

• Lord… Veigar. I am here today not to attack you, but to give you an offer.
• An… offer? Does that mean that faraway lands view me as a threat? Do they want to make me an ally to make sure I won't DESTROY them? He asked with glitter in his tiny yellow eyes. Well I refuse! all will perish before me! You are right to fear and cower before the might of LORD VEIGAR!
• Mmm… yes indeed. But the matter at hand is not to make an alliance. Let’s say more of a… bargain. You see, work endlessly to find exceptionally powerful beings all across the world. In exchange for making said power flourish, I only ask one thing.
• And what would said thing be? said Veigar, a little disappointed that it in fact wasn’t a plea for mercy.
• When the Iron Revenant resurfaces on Runeterra, I will need all those I helped to stop him.
• The Iron Revenant… You mean Mordekaiser? Said Veigar, interest sparkling once again through his eyes.
• Do you… know him?
• Niehe… NYEH EH EH… BWEHEHEHEHEH… arkak… He coughed. YOU STAND BEFORE HIS GREATEST RIVAL! BEATING HIM IN A MAGICAL DUAL AT THE SUMMIT OF EVIL WOULD PROVE MY UTTER SUPERIORITY! AND YOU EVEN PROMISE ME FOR GREATER STRENGTH? WE GOT OURSELVES A DEAL!

Leblanc, shocked, and honestly a little impressed by the little yordle’s attitude, faded from the mirror after a final “I’ll keep you in touch”. On her way back, she couldn’t stop herself from smiling of this rather unexpected chain of events, but relieved that she may make him her greatest weapon yet against… Him.
In his castle, Veigar rushed downstairs like a little storm, screaming for number 3.

• What is it, Lord veigar? he asked for the 6th time today.
• A very good news just arrived! I will need the machine REALLY SHORTLY!
• But! It isn't ready yet! Lord veigar! The minion pleaded while his master evil laughed uncontrollably, able to be heard in all of the castle.

Like a sentient shadow, I followed the old man through the mist-laden cemetery. I knew his route, knew where he’d end up after checking the grave plots: the little shack in the center of the grounds, illumined by a single, sallow-tinted lamp. Sticking by the towering headstones, I watched as he meticulously checked each and every resting place; noting curiously how he’d utter certain unintelligible phrases for seemingly random occupants. He was old but spry, moving with a dexterous delicateness more befitting a dancer than a caretaker. I had no desire to be spotted by the enigmatic groundskeeper.
The night was relatively young, the moon having just come out; and yet a mortuary silence had already befallen the graveyard. There were no sounds of nocturnal life, no distant thrum of traffic. Only the forlorn sighing of the wind as it weakly raked through the bent trees and lichen monoliths. The air was potently earthy, the rain-sodden soil practically aromatic. It was pleasant, refreshing - helped to settle my nerves. Trespassing, Burglary. illegal disinterment. The potential charges against me were more than a little nerve-wracking
The old man inspected the final headstone and nodded, apparently satisfied with its condition. I ducked behind a short, cobweb-strewn headstone as he swept his lantern across the grounds one last time. Silently, he headed towards the shack, and I resumed my stealthy pursuit.
I let him enter and close the door, then made my way to the mausoleum in the rear of the grounds. My work would take quite some time, and I needed to be sure that I wouldn’t be disturbed by the prying old caretaker. I could’ve knocked him out, or sent him on some errand appropriate for his vocation; but he was just a man doing his job, and didn’t deserve any undue trouble. Also, I had a creeping suspicion that he’d be more than able to handle himself if things became physically confrontational.
Reaching the mausoleum, I retrieved my flashlight from my backpack and cast its beam onto the iron wrought gate. The foyer beyond was clean, having recently been swept. In the center of the room was the short staircase which led into the lower crypt – my destination.
A deeper silence seemed to fall over the night as I withdrew the bolt cutters from my bag. There was no thunder with which to time the sounds of my burglary; no squawking birds to mask the padlock’s destruction. I just had hope that the man’s ears were more in line with his age than his body was.
I caught the padlock before it could fall onto the marmoreal floor. I waited a few moments to see if the metallic crunch of its forced disrepair had been heard, and then proceeded. Ordinarily I would've been unnerved by the deathly stillness, by the omnipresence of the innominate dead; but I was on a mission of friendship and couldn’t afford to admit cowardice into my heart. No longer needing them, I returned the bolt cutters to my bag and pocketed the broken padlock. Ignoring the gold-emblazoned shelves, I headed down the stairs toward the lower crypts.
I found my friend’s resting place amid the vaults fairly quickly, given the myriad shelves and recesses. He’d shown me where he was to be buried, years ago – before his untimely death. He’d been put to rest near his other family members: aunts and uncles and grandparents of cycles past. The family owned the entirety of the mausoleum, having held an almost questionably rich lineage for centuries.
Carefully, reverently, I withdrew his casket from its cloth-draped alcove and set it on the floor. The wood had not yet lost its luster. I took a moment to steady my hands and settle my nerves, then undid the casket’s latch. It had not been bolted shut, and the lid came away freely with a soft sigh of escaping air. Inside lay my friend, who – like the casket – had not yet succumbed to any noticeable decay. His face bore the lacquer-like sheen of mortuary preparation but was otherwise unblemished.
Almost absentmindedly, I bent forward and brushed away some specks of dust from his jacket. I knew I couldn’t afford to waste time, but since descending the stairs I had begun to operate under the pseudo-automation of someone presented with a truly unthinkable occurrence. Sure, I’d attended the funeral and had helped lay him to rest; but seeing him there, so privately and intimately, among the bones of the long-dead – it was a whole other experience, and I entered something that resembled a somnambulistic state.
The sound of metal grating against metal shook me from my solemn stupor. I knew at once what the sound meant, but I wanted to believe otherwise. As carefully as I could manage whilst still hurrying, I set the lid back on the casket – as if there were tomb vermin waiting in the shadows to devour his corpse – and quietly tip-toed up the steps. Despite having literally stood among the dead, I felt my first pang of horror upon seeing the mausoleum’s gate shut – and affixed with a new padlock.
Calling out and announcing myself would’ve foiled my plans entirely; and I would’ve doubtlessly ended up in a different kind of cell that very night. So, I refrained from shouting out and altering the caretaker of my (illegal) presence. I also reasoned that given his failure to investigate the interior of the tomb, the caretaker had probably been aware of my trespassing for some time and was simply keeping me locked up for the authorities.
Without any other option than to proceed as planned, I returned to my friend’s body.
Setting the lid aside, I lifted his body from the casket and set it atop the lid. I involuntarily cringed, seeing nothing yet anticipating an outpour of rats, or a writhing mound of fat worms, bloated with carrion. The funeral sterility of the place had yet to cement itself in my mind. I still expected the earthy grimness of above to be reflected below.
I took off my pack and set it on the ground, just beside my friend’s head. I removed the only other object I’d brought: a large jar, its surface filmy with a greenish grey residue. In the light of my flashlight – which I’d placed atop the rim of the casket – the jar’s contents seemed to glow. I unscrewed the cap and turned away, knowing the malodorous stench would make me ill. Once the fumes had cleared, I used a finger to stir its contents. The consistency was like jelly, though the stuff was disconcertingly warm; had not dropped a single degree in temperature since its preparation hours earlier.
Once the substance was appropriately thin – now more akin to a semi-thick yogurt – I set the jar down and went to work on my friend. First, I removed my jacket and propped his head beneath it for a makeshift pillow. Then, with infinite gentleness I pried open his lips, thankful that his eyes were closed. To have to look into them while I manipulated his corpse – however reverently – would've been too much. Once the lips were sufficiently parted, I grabbed the jar and tilted its opening into the agape orifice. The liquid flowed easily enough, continuing down my friend’s throat unimpeded. Had he been alive, he would’ve become almost immediately sick and vomited everywhere. The stuff was utterly unpalatable by living men – I had tried it out of morbid curiosity before embarking on my sepulchral quest.
When it was empty, I put the jar back into my bag and laid my friend’s head back down on the lid. I didn’t want to watch what happened next, didn’t need to – having the utmost confidence in the efficacy of the elixir.
I tidied up the area as best as I could and climbed into the casket – facing up at the shadowy ceiling. I knew it would take a few minutes for the stuff to work, so I tried to listen for any strange or peculiar sounds in the gloom. The place was utterly quiet, my breathing so loud in the stillness that it softly echoed ceilingward. Motes of dust – born of what I hoped was time-crumbled stone, and not human remains – floated into the scope of my flashlight, reminding me of a campfire billowing with ashes. A camping trip with him, during which we’d discussed everything from girlfriends to mathematical ontology. Memories I’d soon forget – but, hopefully, only temporarily.
A soft sound. The twitch of a finger, the subsequent scratch of the nail moving across the wood of the coffin lid. I tried to force a blankness of mind –attempted to re-enter that state of mental nihility into which I’d slipped earlier. More sounds: rustling clothes, the release of long-trapped air from death-stiffened joints. Panic warred with a mounting calmness in my mind. My resolve was settled, but I was still human; fear was still a powerful motivator toward self-preservation.
But in the end, I managed to lapse back into that state of near thoughtlessness. As my friend’s pallid face suddenly summited the surface of the casket, entering my field of vision illumined by the flashlight, I settled into the comfortable abyss of vacuous acceptance. I felt neither the pressure nor the coldness of the still-rigid fingers as they gripped my neck; no pain accompanied the piercing of my neck by his dry teeth. I smelled the coppery aroma of my own blood as it burst from my neck, but the sensation was otherwise unremarkable.
I kept a smile on my face as my friend feasted on my body. Relief filtered through me even as my hot blood washed over me. The necromantic brew had worked! My friend had been reanimated and would use me to restore to himself a semblance of his humanity; at least enough to where he could consciously procure more subjects to further support himself.
I’d promised him in his final days of cancerous ruin that I wouldn’t let him simply die - wouldn’t let his wonderful spirit be lost to the nether-realm, or oblivion, or wherever souls end up following the body’s death. But I wasn’t ready to let myself succumb to such a fate, either. So, shortly after we’d buried him I sought out and employed a surprisingly local necromancer to concoct a potion that would allow my friend to be brought back to life; but would also anchor me to that same corporeal revenancy, using my very being as sustenance for his lichdom.
Now, my friend and I exist as one. Twin-bound souls in a single body. My flesh filled his belly, but my mind was transferred to his brain. I pilot the flesh, while the vestiges of his spirit await rebirth in the deeper recesses of our shared mind. Together, we’ll seek out others, and with their consent we’ll feast upon their flesh. Their minds won’t be preserved. We’ll use them as spiritual kindling, so to speak. To bolster our own psychic vitality. But we won’t seek out anyone who’d want to join this twofold collective.
There are plenty of people who desire death, and haven’t the slightest care how it’s achieved, so long as the hand that deals it is not their own. Some are simply too afraid, incapable of inflicting upon themselves an injury severe enough to be fatal. Others refuse to, no matter how strong a desire, due to the inability to ask for religious forgiveness following their demise. In that case, I’d imagine the intent would suffice as being sinful enough, regardless of whom dealt the harm. But I’m no theologian and wouldn’t argue with the logic of a consenting collaborator.
Oh, I suppose it’s worth mentioning that upon our exit from the tomb, we were greeted by none other than the caretaker, who’d taken up watch of the mausoleum from the shadows – not the hut. Apparently, he’d known of my mission; had been made aware of it by the very same necromancer whose services I had used. The furtive alchemist had forewarned him of my arrival, in fact. I wasn’t surprised. Their vocations, though seemingly at odds, do intersect in certain charnel ways. The caretaker locking me inside had been for our own protection – in the event that someone came along to pay their respects to my friend before we could.... regain our composure.
I later returned and paid the thoughtful watchman enough for two padlocks, since my friend and I had broken the second in our somewhat Frankensteinian exit of the crypt.
A body cohabitated by two spirits requires a great deal of rest, so I will end this tale here. I look forward to spending a shared life with my friend, once he awakens from his incorporeal chrysalis. I can feel him dreaming, though I can’t peer into the ether of his nascent mind.
Soon, though. We’ll peer into each other’s thoughts, and I’ll once again hold the memories I’ve yet to recover. I’d thought that digesting my own brain would provide me with the memories lost in the transference, but I guess necrophagic neurobiology isn’t an exact science....

Like a sentient shadow, I followed the old man through the mist-laden cemetery. I knew his route, knew where he’d end up after checking the grave plots: the little shack in the center of the grounds, illumined by a single, sallow-tinted lamp. Sticking by the towering headstones, I watched as he meticulously checked each and every resting place; noting curiously how he’d utter certain unintelligible phrases for seemingly random occupants. He was old but spry, moving with a dexterous delicateness more befitting a dancer than a caretaker. I had no desire to be spotted by the enigmatic groundskeeper.
The night was relatively young, the moon having just come out; and yet a mortuary silence had already befallen the graveyard. There were no sounds of nocturnal life, no distant thrum of traffic. Only the forlorn sighing of the wind as it weakly raked through the bent trees and lichen monoliths. The air was potently earthy, the rain-sodden soil practically aromatic. It was pleasant, refreshing - helped to settle my nerves. Trespassing, Burglary. illegal disinterment. The potential charges against me were more than a little nerve-wracking
The old man inspected the final headstone and nodded, apparently satisfied with its condition. I ducked behind a short, cobweb-strewn headstone as he swept his lantern across the grounds one last time. Silently, he headed towards the shack, and I resumed my stealthy pursuit.
I let him enter and close the door, then made my way to the mausoleum in the rear of the grounds. My work would take quite some time, and I needed to be sure that I wouldn’t be disturbed by the prying old caretaker. I could’ve knocked him out, or sent him on some errand appropriate for his vocation; but he was just a man doing his job, and didn’t deserve any undue trouble. Also, I had a creeping suspicion that he’d be more than able to handle himself if things became physically confrontational.
Reaching the mausoleum, I retrieved my flashlight from my backpack and cast its beam onto the iron wrought gate. The foyer beyond was clean, having recently been swept. In the center of the room was the short staircase which led into the lower crypt – my destination.
A deeper silence seemed to fall over the night as I withdrew the bolt cutters from my bag. There was no thunder with which to time the sounds of my burglary; no squawking birds to mask the padlock’s destruction. I just had hope that the man’s ears were more in line with his age than his body was.
I caught the padlock before it could fall onto the marmoreal floor. I waited a few moments to see if the metallic crunch of its forced disrepair had been heard, and then proceeded. Ordinarily I would've been unnerved by the deathly stillness, by the omnipresence of the innominate dead; but I was on a mission of friendship and couldn’t afford to admit cowardice into my heart. No longer needing them, I returned the bolt cutters to my bag and pocketed the broken padlock. Ignoring the gold-emblazoned shelves, I headed down the stairs toward the lower crypts.
I found my friend’s resting place amid the vaults fairly quickly, given the myriad shelves and recesses. He’d shown me where he was to be buried, years ago – before his untimely death. He’d been put to rest near his other family members: aunts and uncles and grandparents of cycles past. The family owned the entirety of the mausoleum, having held an almost questionably rich lineage for centuries.
Carefully, reverently, I withdrew his casket from its cloth-draped alcove and set it on the floor. The wood had not yet lost its luster. I took a moment to steady my hands and settle my nerves, then undid the casket’s latch. It had not been bolted shut, and the lid came away freely with a soft sigh of escaping air. Inside lay my friend, who – like the casket – had not yet succumbed to any noticeable decay. His face bore the lacquer-like sheen of mortuary preparation but was otherwise unblemished.
Almost absentmindedly, I bent forward and brushed away some specks of dust from his jacket. I knew I couldn’t afford to waste time, but since descending the stairs I had begun to operate under the pseudo-automation of someone presented with a truly unthinkable occurrence. Sure, I’d attended the funeral and had helped lay him to rest; but seeing him there, so privately and intimately, among the bones of the long-dead – it was a whole other experience, and I entered something that resembled a somnambulistic state.
The sound of metal grating against metal shook me from my solemn stupor. I knew at once what the sound meant, but I wanted to believe otherwise. As carefully as I could manage whilst still hurrying, I set the lid back on the casket – as if there were tomb vermin waiting in the shadows to devour his corpse – and quietly tip-toed up the steps. Despite having literally stood among the dead, I felt my first pang of horror upon seeing the mausoleum’s gate shut – and affixed with a new padlock.
Calling out and announcing myself would’ve foiled my plans entirely; and I would’ve doubtlessly ended up in a different kind of cell that very night. So, I refrained from shouting out and altering the caretaker of my (illegal) presence. I also reasoned that given his failure to investigate the interior of the tomb, the caretaker had probably been aware of my trespassing for some time and was simply keeping me locked up for the authorities.
Without any other option than to proceed as planned, I returned to my friend’s body.
Setting the lid aside, I lifted his body from the casket and set it atop the lid. I involuntarily cringed, seeing nothing yet anticipating an outpour of rats, or a writhing mound of fat worms, bloated with carrion. The funeral sterility of the place had yet to cement itself in my mind. I still expected the earthy grimness of above to be reflected below.
I took off my pack and set it on the ground, just beside my friend’s head. I removed the only other object I’d brought: a large jar, its surface filmy with a greenish grey residue. In the light of my flashlight – which I’d placed atop the rim of the casket – the jar’s contents seemed to glow. I unscrewed the cap and turned away, knowing the malodorous stench would make me ill. Once the fumes had cleared, I used a finger to stir its contents. The consistency was like jelly, though the stuff was disconcertingly warm; had not dropped a single degree in temperature since its preparation hours earlier.
Once the substance was appropriately thin – now more akin to a semi-thick yogurt – I set the jar down and went to work on my friend. First, I removed my jacket and propped his head beneath it for a makeshift pillow. Then, with infinite gentleness I pried open his lips, thankful that his eyes were closed. To have to look into them while I manipulated his corpse – however reverently – would've been too much. Once the lips were sufficiently parted, I grabbed the jar and tilted its opening into the agape orifice. The liquid flowed easily enough, continuing down my friend’s throat unimpeded. Had he been alive, he would’ve become almost immediately sick and vomited everywhere. The stuff was utterly unpalatable by living men – I had tried it out of morbid curiosity before embarking on my sepulchral quest.
When it was empty, I put the jar back into my bag and laid my friend’s head back down on the lid. I didn’t want to watch what happened next, didn’t need to – having the utmost confidence in the efficacy of the elixir.
I tidied up the area as best as I could and climbed into the casket – facing up at the shadowy ceiling. I knew it would take a few minutes for the stuff to work, so I tried to listen for any strange or peculiar sounds in the gloom. The place was utterly quiet, my breathing so loud in the stillness that it softly echoed ceilingward. Motes of dust – born of what I hoped was time-crumbled stone, and not human remains – floated into the scope of my flashlight, reminding me of a campfire billowing with ashes. A camping trip with him, during which we’d discussed everything from girlfriends to mathematical ontology. Memories I’d soon forget – but, hopefully, only temporarily.
A soft sound. The twitch of a finger, the subsequent scratch of the nail moving across the wood of the coffin lid. I tried to force a blankness of mind –attempted to re-enter that state of mental nihility into which I’d slipped earlier. More sounds: rustling clothes, the release of long-trapped air from death-stiffened joints. Panic warred with a mounting calmness in my mind. My resolve was settled, but I was still human; fear was still a powerful motivator toward self-preservation.
But in the end, I managed to lapse back into that state of near thoughtlessness. As my friend’s pallid face suddenly summited the surface of the casket, entering my field of vision illumined by the flashlight, I settled into the comfortable abyss of vacuous acceptance. I felt neither the pressure nor the coldness of the still-rigid fingers as they gripped my neck; no pain accompanied the piercing of my neck by his dry teeth. I smelled the coppery aroma of my own blood as it burst from my neck, but the sensation was otherwise unremarkable.
I kept a smile on my face as my friend feasted on my body. Relief filtered through me even as my hot blood washed over me. The necromantic brew had worked! My friend had been reanimated and would use me to restore to himself a semblance of his humanity; at least enough to where he could consciously procure more subjects to further support himself.
I’d promised him in his final days of cancerous ruin that I wouldn’t let him simply die - wouldn’t let his wonderful spirit be lost to the nether-realm, or oblivion, or wherever souls end up following the body’s death. But I wasn’t ready to let myself succumb to such a fate, either. So, shortly after we’d buried him I sought out and employed a surprisingly local necromancer to concoct a potion that would allow my friend to be brought back to life; but would also anchor me to that same corporeal revenancy, using my very being as sustenance for his lichdom.
Now, my friend and I exist as one. Twin-bound souls in a single body. My flesh filled his belly, but my mind was transferred to his brain. I pilot the flesh, while the vestiges of his spirit await rebirth in the deeper recesses of our shared mind. Together, we’ll seek out others, and with their consent we’ll feast upon their flesh. Their minds won’t be preserved. We’ll use them as spiritual kindling, so to speak. To bolster our own psychic vitality. But we won’t seek out anyone who’d want to join this twofold collective.
There are plenty of people who desire death, and haven’t the slightest care how it’s achieved, so long as the hand that deals it is not their own. Some are simply too afraid, incapable of inflicting upon themselves an injury severe enough to be fatal. Others refuse to, no matter how strong a desire, due to the inability to ask for religious forgiveness following their demise. In that case, I’d imagine the intent would suffice as being sinful enough, regardless of whom dealt the harm. But I’m no theologian and wouldn’t argue with the logic of a consenting collaborator.
Oh, I suppose it’s worth mentioning that upon our exit from the tomb, we were greeted by none other than the caretaker, who’d taken up watch of the mausoleum from the shadows – not the hut. Apparently, he’d known of my mission; had been made aware of it by the very same necromancer whose services I had used. The furtive alchemist had forewarned him of my arrival, in fact. I wasn’t surprised. Their vocations, though seemingly at odds, do intersect in certain charnel ways. The caretaker locking me inside had been for our own protection – in the event that someone came along to pay their respects to my friend before we could.... regain our composure.
I later returned and paid the thoughtful watchman enough for two padlocks, since my friend and I had broken the second in our somewhat Frankensteinian exit of the crypt.
A body cohabitated by two spirits requires a great deal of rest, so I will end this tale here. I look forward to spending a shared life with my friend, once he awakens from his incorporeal chrysalis. I can feel him dreaming, though I can’t peer into the ether of his nascent mind.
Soon, though. We’ll peer into each other’s thoughts, and I’ll once again hold the memories I’ve yet to recover. I’d thought that digesting my own brain would provide me with the memories lost in the transference, but I guess necrophagic neurobiology isn’t an exact science....

Like a sentient shadow, I followed the old man through the mist-laden cemetery. I knew his route, knew where he’d end up after checking the grave plots: the little shack in the center of the grounds, illumined by a single, sallow-tinted lamp. Sticking by the towering headstones, I watched as he meticulously checked each and every resting place; noting curiously how he’d utter certain unintelligible phrases for seemingly random occupants. He was old but spry, moving with a dexterous delicateness more befitting a dancer than a caretaker. I had no desire to be spotted by the enigmatic groundskeeper.
The night was relatively young, the moon having just come out; and yet a mortuary silence had already befallen the graveyard. There were no sounds of nocturnal life, no distant thrum of traffic. Only the forlorn sighing of the wind as it weakly raked through the bent trees and lichen monoliths. The air was potently earthy, the rain-sodden soil practically aromatic. It was pleasant, refreshing - helped to settle my nerves. Trespassing, Burglary. illegal disinterment. The potential charges against me were more than a little nerve-wracking
The old man inspected the final headstone and nodded, apparently satisfied with its condition. I ducked behind a short, cobweb-strewn headstone as he swept his lantern across the grounds one last time. Silently, he headed towards the shack, and I resumed my stealthy pursuit.
I let him enter and close the door, then made my way to the mausoleum in the rear of the grounds. My work would take quite some time, and I needed to be sure that I wouldn’t be disturbed by the prying old caretaker. I could’ve knocked him out, or sent him on some errand appropriate for his vocation; but he was just a man doing his job, and didn’t deserve any undue trouble. Also, I had a creeping suspicion that he’d be more than able to handle himself if things became physically confrontational.
Reaching the mausoleum, I retrieved my flashlight from my backpack and cast its beam onto the iron wrought gate. The foyer beyond was clean, having recently been swept. In the center of the room was the short staircase which led into the lower crypt – my destination.
A deeper silence seemed to fall over the night as I withdrew the bolt cutters from my bag. There was no thunder with which to time the sounds of my burglary; no squawking birds to mask the padlock’s destruction. I just had hope that the man’s ears were more in line with his age than his body was.
I caught the padlock before it could fall onto the marmoreal floor. I waited a few moments to see if the metallic crunch of its forced disrepair had been heard, and then proceeded. Ordinarily I would've been unnerved by the deathly stillness, by the omnipresence of the innominate dead; but I was on a mission of friendship and couldn’t afford to admit cowardice into my heart. No longer needing them, I returned the bolt cutters to my bag and pocketed the broken padlock. Ignoring the gold-emblazoned shelves, I headed down the stairs toward the lower crypts.
I found my friend’s resting place amid the vaults fairly quickly, given the myriad shelves and recesses. He’d shown me where he was to be buried, years ago – before his untimely death. He’d been put to rest near his other family members: aunts and uncles and grandparents of cycles past. The family owned the entirety of the mausoleum, having held an almost questionably rich lineage for centuries.
Carefully, reverently, I withdrew his casket from its cloth-draped alcove and set it on the floor. The wood had not yet lost its luster. I took a moment to steady my hands and settle my nerves, then undid the casket’s latch. It had not been bolted shut, and the lid came away freely with a soft sigh of escaping air. Inside lay my friend, who – like the casket – had not yet succumbed to any noticeable decay. His face bore the lacquer-like sheen of mortuary preparation but was otherwise unblemished.
Almost absentmindedly, I bent forward and brushed away some specks of dust from his jacket. I knew I couldn’t afford to waste time, but since descending the stairs I had begun to operate under the pseudo-automation of someone presented with a truly unthinkable occurrence. Sure, I’d attended the funeral and had helped lay him to rest; but seeing him there, so privately and intimately, among the bones of the long-dead – it was a whole other experience, and I entered something that resembled a somnambulistic state.
The sound of metal grating against metal shook me from my solemn stupor. I knew at once what the sound meant, but I wanted to believe otherwise. As carefully as I could manage whilst still hurrying, I set the lid back on the casket – as if there were tomb vermin waiting in the shadows to devour his corpse – and quietly tip-toed up the steps. Despite having literally stood among the dead, I felt my first pang of horror upon seeing the mausoleum’s gate shut – and affixed with a new padlock.
Calling out and announcing myself would’ve foiled my plans entirely; and I would’ve doubtlessly ended up in a different kind of cell that very night. So, I refrained from shouting out and altering the caretaker of my (illegal) presence. I also reasoned that given his failure to investigate the interior of the tomb, the caretaker had probably been aware of my trespassing for some time and was simply keeping me locked up for the authorities.
Without any other option than to proceed as planned, I returned to my friend’s body.
Setting the lid aside, I lifted his body from the casket and set it atop the lid. I involuntarily cringed, seeing nothing yet anticipating an outpour of rats, or a writhing mound of fat worms, bloated with carrion. The funeral sterility of the place had yet to cement itself in my mind. I still expected the earthy grimness of above to be reflected below.
I took off my pack and set it on the ground, just beside my friend’s head. I removed the only other object I’d brought: a large jar, its surface filmy with a greenish grey residue. In the light of my flashlight – which I’d placed atop the rim of the casket – the jar’s contents seemed to glow. I unscrewed the cap and turned away, knowing the malodorous stench would make me ill. Once the fumes had cleared, I used a finger to stir its contents. The consistency was like jelly, though the stuff was disconcertingly warm; had not dropped a single degree in temperature since its preparation hours earlier.
Once the substance was appropriately thin – now more akin to a semi-thick yogurt – I set the jar down and went to work on my friend. First, I removed my jacket and propped his head beneath it for a makeshift pillow. Then, with infinite gentleness I pried open his lips, thankful that his eyes were closed. To have to look into them while I manipulated his corpse – however reverently – would've been too much. Once the lips were sufficiently parted, I grabbed the jar and tilted its opening into the agape orifice. The liquid flowed easily enough, continuing down my friend’s throat unimpeded. Had he been alive, he would’ve become almost immediately sick and vomited everywhere. The stuff was utterly unpalatable by living men – I had tried it out of morbid curiosity before embarking on my sepulchral quest.
When it was empty, I put the jar back into my bag and laid my friend’s head back down on the lid. I didn’t want to watch what happened next, didn’t need to – having the utmost confidence in the efficacy of the elixir.
I tidied up the area as best as I could and climbed into the casket – facing up at the shadowy ceiling. I knew it would take a few minutes for the stuff to work, so I tried to listen for any strange or peculiar sounds in the gloom. The place was utterly quiet, my breathing so loud in the stillness that it softly echoed ceilingward. Motes of dust – born of what I hoped was time-crumbled stone, and not human remains – floated into the scope of my flashlight, reminding me of a campfire billowing with ashes. A camping trip with him, during which we’d discussed everything from girlfriends to mathematical ontology. Memories I’d soon forget – but, hopefully, only temporarily.
A soft sound. The twitch of a finger, the subsequent scratch of the nail moving across the wood of the coffin lid. I tried to force a blankness of mind –attempted to re-enter that state of mental nihility into which I’d slipped earlier. More sounds: rustling clothes, the release of long-trapped air from death-stiffened joints. Panic warred with a mounting calmness in my mind. My resolve was settled, but I was still human; fear was still a powerful motivator toward self-preservation.
But in the end, I managed to lapse back into that state of near thoughtlessness. As my friend’s pallid face suddenly summited the surface of the casket, entering my field of vision illumined by the flashlight, I settled into the comfortable abyss of vacuous acceptance. I felt neither the pressure nor the coldness of the still-rigid fingers as they gripped my neck; no pain accompanied the piercing of my neck by his dry teeth. I smelled the coppery aroma of my own blood as it burst from my neck, but the sensation was otherwise unremarkable.
I kept a smile on my face as my friend feasted on my body. Relief filtered through me even as my hot blood washed over me. The necromantic brew had worked! My friend had been reanimated and would use me to restore to himself a semblance of his humanity; at least enough to where he could consciously procure more subjects to further support himself.
I’d promised him in his final days of cancerous ruin that I wouldn’t let him simply die - wouldn’t let his wonderful spirit be lost to the nether-realm, or oblivion, or wherever souls end up following the body’s death. But I wasn’t ready to let myself succumb to such a fate, either. So, shortly after we’d buried him I sought out and employed a surprisingly local necromancer to concoct a potion that would allow my friend to be brought back to life; but would also anchor me to that same corporeal revenancy, using my very being as sustenance for his lichdom.
Now, my friend and I exist as one. Twin-bound souls in a single body. My flesh filled his belly, but my mind was transferred to his brain. I pilot the flesh, while the vestiges of his spirit await rebirth in the deeper recesses of our shared mind. Together, we’ll seek out others, and with their consent we’ll feast upon their flesh. Their minds won’t be preserved. We’ll use them as spiritual kindling, so to speak. To bolster our own psychic vitality. But we won’t seek out anyone who’d want to join this twofold collective.
There are plenty of people who desire death, and haven’t the slightest care how it’s achieved, so long as the hand that deals it is not their own. Some are simply too afraid, incapable of inflicting upon themselves an injury severe enough to be fatal. Others refuse to, no matter how strong a desire, due to the inability to ask for religious forgiveness following their demise. In that case, I’d imagine the intent would suffice as being sinful enough, regardless of whom dealt the harm. But I’m no theologian and wouldn’t argue with the logic of a consenting collaborator.
Oh, I suppose it’s worth mentioning that upon our exit from the tomb, we were greeted by none other than the caretaker, who’d taken up watch of the mausoleum from the shadows – not the hut. Apparently, he’d known of my mission; had been made aware of it by the very same necromancer whose services I had used. The furtive alchemist had forewarned him of my arrival, in fact. I wasn’t surprised. Their vocations, though seemingly at odds, do intersect in certain charnel ways. The caretaker locking me inside had been for our own protection – in the event that someone came along to pay their respects to my friend before we could.... regain our composure.
I later returned and paid the thoughtful watchman enough for two padlocks, since my friend and I had broken the second in our somewhat Frankensteinian exit of the crypt.
A body cohabitated by two spirits requires a great deal of rest, so I will end this tale here. I look forward to spending a shared life with my friend, once he awakens from his incorporeal chrysalis. I can feel him dreaming, though I can’t peer into the ether of his nascent mind.
Soon, though. We’ll peer into each other’s thoughts, and I’ll once again hold the memories I’ve yet to recover. I’d thought that digesting my own brain would provide me with the memories lost in the transference, but I guess necrophagic neurobiology isn’t an exact science....

Boris woke to pain. A recurring occurence, one he had grown accustomed to, as much as one can. From his first day as a renegade to waking up inside the Oasis, beaten so close to the edge of dying that most men would've died twice already, pain was as constant a companion to him as the obsession with Redemption. He turned his head to the side, feeling the cold concrete on his cheek, and spat. Opening his eye only a few millimetres, he saw a red streak on the dirty ground. Blood, from his mouth. Explained the taste of iron on his lips. Boris tried to rise into a sitting position, only for his legs and arms to refuse. It was like a 100 kilogram weight had been placed on him. As he opened his eyes properly, he understood why.
First of all, the Absolver he was wearing was completely dead. The display on his wrist was black, indicating that not even auxiliary power was available. Furthermore, his hands had been tied and some kind of weight had been placed on top of his legs. The MASKA helmet, accompanied by a very big dent where forehead of the wearer would be, was sitting not far from Boris. Pondering how he had ended up into this situation, Boris tested the ropes tying his hands. Too strong, blyat, Boris thought to himself, as he found no slack. The sound of footsteps closing surprised him, and suddenly a man in black SSP-99M suit appeared in his vision. A mercenary, the very same who had bashed Boris' head earlier, followed suit soon.
"Ah, good, you're awake. Boris... Unforgiven, was it? Quite dramatic, I must admit. Far more than your unassuming real name, Karnitsky, was it? I am Professor Serbin, and this here is Vulture. You met him earlier.", the SSP man introduced himself, and Boris shuddered at the mention of his real name.
"How the hell do you know my name?", Boris shouted, or tried to, only a whisper escaping his lips.
"Simple. Your friend Felka was captured alongside you. You have been out for roughly 18 hours, we have had plenty of time to interrogate him. He won't walk for a few months, as I prefer the old "knee of truth" method with a drill, but at least he was honest this once.", Vulture commented, his voice devoid of any emotion.
"Yes... Poor man, what a rotten fate. We are keeping him alive with a couple artifacts, it does wonders for interrogation progress. He will most likely not walk again, a true tragedy.", Serbin said, not a hint of actual remorse or empathy in his voice.
"You sick fucks. What do you want of us? Who the hell are you even?", Boris asked in utter rage, his voice hoarse.
"Tsk tsk. This isn't some shit film, where I reveal our entire organization dramatically. All we want is Degtyarev's and Strelok's heads on a plate. Our organization does not matter to you. You could not uncover it in a thousand years, and you most certainly do not have so much time. Now, tell us, where are the two men I mentioned? And do not play like you're out of the loop, we know who you are, Karnitsky.", Serbin said.
"In a thousand years, you would not get that out of me either. You can bring me to the brink of death, but that is nothing new to me. So fuck off, sukas.", Boris growled.
"Figured as much. Alright, we have means to make you talk, more sophisticated ones than what Vulture here uses. But first, think about this for a little moment. Felka mentioned that you have bad blood with a certain crime lord, Harkusha, was it? And you still have people you care about in Minsk? How about you tell us what we want, and we never reach out to your old enemy?", Serbin offered, and Boris could feel his heart sink a little, pondering what to answer.
"You would simply contact him anyway. Just kill me, this interrogation is pointless. You think some little shit like that one can get anything out of me? Pfft, right.", Boris said defiantly, but inside his head, he was frantically looking for a way out.
"Vulture? No, he already did his part. It is my turn. As you clearly are too stubborn to understand your own good, allow me to introduce my little friend. This tiny artefact is Current. It only forms in very specific circumstances inside a laboratory, and has a simple application. Unlike other artefacts, which have useful properties, this cutie loads up the victim's nervous system with electricity. The Current has a very similar feel to an eletric chair, but it never goes beyond human endurance. It will always adjust the current going through you to just keep you alive but in agony.", Serbin explained, holding a tiny, swirling cloud of electricity in his hand.
Boris could not reply, he simply braced himself for what was to come and sneered smugly at Serbin. For a briefest of moment, he saw some anger on the professor's face, who quickly washed it away to his usual blank expression. Without further comments, Serbin simply shrugged and tosses Current on top of Boris. For a minute, nothing happened, and Vulture even glanced at his companion questioningly. Boris was about to make a snarky remark, when every nerve end in his body cried out in anguish. The Current sent waves of pure energy running through him, frying his body with sheer pain. It was unlike anything Boris had ever felt, far from the sharp pain of gunshot wounds or the blunt, dull pain he had felt in his near-death state. He could barely see, so hard did the electric blasts hit him. Tears swelled in his eyes, and he struggled not to scream out, to not give into the pain.
The leader of Redemption could feel his strength wane, the constant stream of agony overcoming his iron will. Despite his rage and determination, he could feel some part of his body wish for the sweet release of death. He forced his eyes open, looked defiantly at Serbin and gritted his teeth. No rogue scientist would claim him this day. But the situation did not seem great, the ropes keeping his hands tied down and the weights doing the same for his legs. The dead exoskeleton wrapped around him did not help. With some power to it, he could easily break the ropes and try to escape, but there was no juice in the battery. Out of some forlorn hope, he glanced at the display on his wrist, more out of desperation than anything else. To his surprise, the screen was showing a small bit of battery power, and it was charging up even further.
The Current seemed to have the side-effect of charging his suit's batteries, something the professor clearly had not thought of. Realizing that through his pain he could get just enough juice to fight back, Boris tried to relax and take the torture head on. Serbin frowned as he saw Boris' expression turn from utter agony to concentrated, yet pained, look. He turned to Vulture, saying in an annoyed tone:
"Keep watch on him. He will break eventually, but I have more important matters to attend to. That damn Mongol Khan will come to visit us in an hour, he seemed annoyed that we let those Ecologists escape. If he breaks, call me in, I want to see how long it takes to extract a result with the Current.", Serbin ordered, turned on his heels and opened the door to leave.
"I bet my method would be faster.", Vulture scoffed.
"Yes, yes, of course it is. Just like Jackal's blockade was supposed to keep stalkers out of Pripyat. That hypothesis worked well for him.", Serbin said with venom in his voice and stepped out.
"Little suka...", Vulture cursed and clenched his fists, glancing towards the door.
Boris saw his chance, reaching for the auxiliary battery located not far from his tied hands. He found the emergency power distributor, and flicked it on, the suit whirring to life. Absolver was back in action, yet through the crackling and whirring of the Current, Vulture had not noticed it yet. Boris loaded all his strength into his hands, and with a decisive pull, ripped apart the ropes. Only now did Vulture turn towards him, but it was too late. With desperate rage, Boris tore the pulsing Current off his chest, the waves of pain becoming stronger. The mercenary was reaching for his gun, when Boris smacked the artifact into his stomach. Like an otherwordly taser, the strong torrent of sheer eletricity shot through Vulture, and he flinched. Before he could yell, Boris took him by the throat and pushed. The two exoskeleton-clad men struggled for two minutes, but Boris was no longer weakened by the artifact while Vulture very much was.
The mercenary punched, clawed and headbutted Boris as much as he could, but Vulture's strength grew weaker as the torture artifact sapped him of it. The strangle grip Boris held him in claimed the man eventually, the life leaving his eyes as no oxygen reached his lungs. While Boris would never know it, he had killed the last mercenary leader of Jackal's group left in the Zone. Seeing his chance, Boris took Jackal's SIG 552 and three magazines. On his belt, Boris found his trusty kukri, clearly taken as war trophy by Vulture, and on the holster, the extremely rare Automag pistol. Feeling far more confident now, Boris walked over to his MASKA helmet and placed it on his head. As the visor lowered down on his face, and he once more saw the world through a narrow slit, Boris grinned slightly. It was time for a little payback.
Boris opened the door slightly and took a look at the corridor. It was empty, they were clearly inside one of the large building blocks of Outskirts. He stepped out, holding the SIG rifle at eye level, and slowly moved onwards. The battery on his suit had power for roughly half an hour, after which he would have to swap the powerpack for the one he had looted off Vulture. However, his priority number one would be finding Felka, and number two was to escape. He creeped up the hallway, checking rooms by the sides. One had a dead man in SSU uniform, signs of torture on his body. Boris could not dwell on it, even if it raised questions of Degtyarev's activity, he had to keep going. Next door led to a storage room, right by the end of the corridor. Felka was there, tossed by the side of the room next to a safe. His legs were truly fucked beyond recognition, Vulture had really used something horrible on him. Boris froze for a moment, seeing his companion in such a shape.
This was his doing, his crusade had led to the disfiguring of Felka. He would have to fix this somehow. He took one more glance at the room, and realized that his artifacts were on the cabinet nearby. Felka was clearly unconcious, and he couldn't have gotten to them anyway as the cabinet was locked, but it was nothing the exoskeleton could not handle. Boris broke the lock and took out his Goldfish, placing it on the belt. Then he took his Heart of Oasis, sending a quick prayer to Anton for being such a generous soul, and placed it on Felka's belt. The ex-renegade did not wake up, which was probably a blessing in his state, but some more colour returned to his cheeks. Holstering his SIG and tossing the body of his friend over his shoulder, Boris saw that it was high time to leave. The Automag in his free hand, Boris began a painful and tense march towards the staircase.
As he was tiptoeing forward, as quietly as one can in an exoskeleton, carrying another man, he heard arguments from one room. Serbin was shouting, but Boris could quite make out the words. Another voice, with a clear Eastern accent, made calm but mocking remarks to the professor. Boris could only understand Strelok's and Degtyarev's names from the conversation, and for a moment he thought that barging in and shooting the two men talking could end this fight once and for all. Raising his Automag, he prepared to do just this, when a man in black Sunrise suit stepped into the hallway.
"Blyaaat, who the-", the newcomer commented, just before Boris shot his liberated pistol at him.
The .44 AMP round struck him like a truck, killing the man instantly. The conversation next door ended, and Boris, knowing his luck had just ran out, fired three rounds through the door before breaking into sprint. Three more rounds in the magazine, he thought, as he rounded the corner and ran into the staircase. A burst struck the concrete wall behind him, one of Serbin's men clearly alerted by the shots. Another tried to block the escape, but Boris was a second faster on the draw, the Automag thundering in the cramped space and smashing the guard's head in. Felka was whimpering quietly as Boris ran, almost tumbling down in the stairs worn by time. Two more floors, he thought, knowing these types of buildings by heart. More rounds struck the staircase, one of the guards shooting down from the fourth floor. Ricochets bounced around Boris and Felka, but thankfully they only struck the walls and not the men.
On the ground floor, Boris could see daylight. They would get out! He lunged out, avoiding another shot fired by a guard standing by the door he had missed earlier. The guard raised a SIG rifle, taking aim as Boris struggled to turn his pistol towards the man. Shot rang out, struck the Absolver's plate and dented it. Boris felt the dull blow of an unpenetrating hit, and fired back. Or would have, if the Automag had not jammed. Nothing happened as he pressed the trigger, and the guard in midnight-black SEVA grinned triumphantly. His grin was still there when a bullet hit him in the head, fired by a suppressed rifle.
"Goddammit, we're too late! Boris got out by himself!", Dima shouted, holding a smoking Val.
"Never get to be heroes, do we.", Sanyok cursed as Boris was running towards them.
"Move, you clowns! There's more of them coming!", Boris screamed as more footsteps rang in the staircase.
"Blyat, follow us Boris! To the Valkyrie!", Dima replied as a squad of heavily armed guards and UNISG troops burst out of the building.
They set off running, and only then did Boris try to gather his bearings. They were somewhere near the grocery store, albeit where exactly, Boris did not get to consider, as more bullets rained on the streets from behind. Sanyok tossed a smoke grenade behind him, trying to slow down the incoming enemies. Boris could feel his body slowly drain out, the torture and combat weighing on him, but hearing the pained yelps of Felka, he pushed on. He owed it to his friend to get him out alive. If they survived now, they could return for payback.

Hi everyone, I'm writing a book, and just curious as to any feedback that people may have for my first chapter, I uploaded a previous draft before, a very early draft I might add, and now I'm looking for some good old fashioned feedback.
For more information about my book, check out my youtube channel at Crimson Clover - YouTube
Thanks, also the channel is very rough, it was my first time making videos and thus fairly poorly made, however I am attempting to improve it by making less book relevant content, which will allow me to improve my basic skills.
Chapter One :
Divinity. That is what connected the walls surrounding Dundis castle, not stone or metal, this was not a mere wall but a divine gift from ones above. Divinity sealed the wall, made it whole, the walls sealed together without mark or blemish, something no man could ever replicate. The wall had stood for a century, and would likely last ten more, there was no weakness, no flaw in design. 50 metres tall the wall was unscalable, unbreakable. No man could break the wall, it was the Vaunghe empire’s crowning gift, their wonder of the world. Those that were hired to clean the wall’s dirt and grime were heralded as the truly faithful, and all longed to help the gift of the gods. And yet despite this the Alizian’s watched, standing with armies around the great wall, waiting to breach its crust and destroy the core.
The Vaunghe had watched their foes throw everything they had, hundreds of men attacking the steel doors of the wall to no avail, an attempted archer attack quickly squashed by the wall's height. The Alizian military was strong, a blend of the Alizian warriors and Strolim blacksmiths made for a truly terrifying army. The army was so terrifying that the Vaunghe inside the castle doubted there were any more Vaunghe troops left, this was the end to a long battle between man and man. Even the soldiers left weren’t particularly important, just those lucky enough to guard the king and a few trainees. But the Vaunghe felt their luck running out.
The food supplies had run low, even if the nobles weren’t in the castle there was no chance of resupply. The few men who had eaten in the past few days stood alert, gazing down from the ramparts at the enemy. The soldiers knew they had to either surrender or fight, but the Vaunghe were passionate people, they could never leave behind their identity in favour of life. So the men waited, bows and arrows at the ready, for the next attack. Heavy items such as ingots and chairs lined the rampart, ready to be thrown off at a moments notice.
They had waited in this position for many cycles, and as day turned to night, and night turned to day the Vaunghe were exhausted, finished with whatever feeble attacks these barbarians had planned. They could throw whatever armies and arrows they wanted at the wall but it would remain unphased, forevermore. When the Alizian’s next attacked they would be met with the last strength of the Vaunghe, and it would be a story remembered for milenia by man and the gods.
As the morning sun rose over the wall, the enemy was revealed in all their glory. Even from so high above the Vaunghe could see the glint of silver from the Alizian military. The bright greens of the Alizian armour created a dazzling sensation that they were one with the grass, which blended in so perfectly with their clothes. They stood in their thousands, armed with whatever they could find, and even on the wall the men could see him.
The slaughterer, the murderer, the man, the myth and the legend Osmund stood alone on an overlooking hill. The fiend was well known by the Vaunghe, he was likely the greatest foe that had come from the opposing sides. Vaunghe generals often fled at his coming, or surrendered first, but rumour had it that Osmund gave no mercy. Overseeing his army to destroy everything that was left, the Vaunghe soldiers knew today really was the end. The figure on the hill moved closer to his army and screamed. The battle-cry of the Alizian’s shook fear into each of the Vaunghe atop the rampart, being so loud that it even reached so high.
The hundreds of troops began to move in sync, forming three individual groups of soldiers, with 10 metre spaces between each. Each contingent comprised six hundred men, easily dwarfing the 82 Vaunghe soldiers that were left. But the Vaunghe were not afraid, at least not afraid of a breach anytime soon. These walls were built to withstand any damage, no man could breakthrough one.
Between the troops was movement, indeed there seemed to be movement down all three rows of men in blue. The Strolime empire had finally revealed themselves, with their short stature and mental prowess the Strolime were gifted inventors not expected to appear on the battlefield. And yet here they were, almost one hundred of them hauling forth three large metallic objects. The sun bounced off of these objects into the Vaunghe’s eyes.
None of the men had ever seen objects like these, seemingly composed of pure metals and on wheels. Some thought they were a testament to the gods, some holy objects, others believed it to be some new invention from the Strolime, however none of them could say anything for certain as they were pushed closer and closer to the wall. The Strolomites stopped in their advance, approximately 20 metres away from the wall. The purpose of these objects had yet to dawn on the men, although one of the younger men on the rampart claimed he could see small objects poking through the metal, which was now aimed at a forty-five degree angle towards the wall.
As the Strolimites halted their advance many began to move away into the safety of the Alizian wall, likely afraid of any precautionary Vaunghe archers. One of them, a rather short and plump soldier, stayed with the object, placing a hand on it and turning to the wall. It was a fleeting moment, but for a second it seemed the man was gazing at the Vaunghe soldiers in shame. One last condemnation to the ones that began this war, before it would all come crashing down. But then the moment passed, and the short man moved as the rest did, doing a slight zig zag to avoid arrows.
And now, just as quickly they had come, the Strolomite’s were gone in the ranks of the Alizians, still waiting in their groups for something, and then they came. Three figures, two women and a man, moved between the lines just as the Strolimites before them. These three wore no armour, only the greens of Alizia upon their tunics. They stood beside the objects and began to reach their arms into the underside of it. Before the Vaunghe’s eyes the objects began to turn slightly, aiming even more directly at the wall.
One of the Vaunghe had enough of this display, and raised his bow. There were low winds on this day, and he was a good enough shot to reach at least one of the Alizian soldiers. He aimed his bow, finger on the drawstring, and released. It is likely that this arrow would’ve drawn first blood in this battle, however the arrow never reached its target.
In the split second before the release of the bow, the Vaunghe noticed the smoke billowing out of the bottom of the devices, the flames that shot out, and finally they noticed for not even a fraction of a second the object that shot out of the metallic thing, something white and red that hit the wall in an instant.
The wall shook, and the following barrage of these objects shattered any notion of divinity. Crashing and crumbling the rampart was launched, sending soldiers flying everywhere. The Vaunghe beside the wall were subject to the falling rubble, both the crumbling stone of the walls and the miscellaneous objects they had left upon the wall. All of the objects crushed the few Vaunghe left, save for the few sickly starving soldiers left inside the castle’s inner walls.
Down went the walls, such a harsh strike against the wall that nothing stood in the path of this monster. The roaring splattered through the castle, the screams of the falling wall waking the King himself from his slumber. Such a vast creation had fallen in seconds before the might of the Alizian’s, and now there was nothing left but to watch the battle unfold.
Smoke flooded the inner walls of the castle, casting the few remaining into fits of coughing and blindness. The walls finished their crumbling, and yet the roars didn’t stop. These were not the roars of the wall but the war cries of the soldiers outside, and they began to get louder, echoing through the walls of Dundis and into the ears of the weak nobles and soldiers.
Through the smoke they came, weapons raised and charging the weak. The few that tried to fight were slaughtered, cut down by a sea of green soldiers. Those that were choking, sputtering or raising their hands in defeat were spared, hauled through the hordes and into one of the stables facing the inner wall. They were to be tried and jailed, for no human regardless of their crime should be killed. It is simply not the Alizian way.
Out of the one hundred and fifty two people who were in Dundis, forty two had died in the wall’s destruction, and a further eleven were detained by the Alizian military. There was nothing that the Vaunghe could do, save for locking their doors, shield themselves and hold out for as long as possible. The Vaunghe forces built barricades in their castle, locking away the Alizian combatants for as long as possible. And during all of this Osmund waited. Waiting for his time to end this war, this travesty of battle that had gone on for too long, and that time finally came.
* * * *
Osmund stood alone atop the hill, and watched the madness unfold. The walls crumbled at the face of these weapons with no more effort than a straw house, and the plumes of smoke assaulted his men, although not to the extent of the inner wall. After a few moments of sputtering and choking the men cheered, for this was the moment that they had been waiting for, the end of such a long war now in the Alizian’s favour.
The Vaunghe capital was in shambles, their military long crushed underneath Osmund’s almighty power, and all that was left was the King. Hiding behind his walls as if he didn’t deserve this loss, this final failure in his life. Osmund was willing to spare as many people as he could, it was the Alizian code, but there would be no mercy for the King. This wasn’t one final battle between two great armies, that conflict happened weeks ago, this was the last breaths of a psychotic monarch being silenced amongst the last of his troops.
Osmund gazed longingly at Dundis, the ruined walls and advancing soldiers and doubted. He felt something was off, something was very wrong with all of this. His heart began to thump, as Osmund’s eyes turned every way to understand what was wrong, what abnormality was here. It grew and grew, Osmund began to shake at what was about to happen, nothing was right here Osmund should be somewhere else helping someone, there’s something wrong here something very-
Peace. Osmund’s heart stopped thumping, body stopping its perpetual shaking. He looked again to the marching troops, now almost entirely inside the walls, and looked back to his back, and the reserve Strolomites that now stood. They were cheering, marvelling at the success of the assault, and how the god’s gift had saved so much effort on their part.
Such strange creations composed of metal and flame, Osmund marvelled at the power the gods possessed. These devices were so unique in design Osmund doubted if any army could defeat them. The large red tubes they released could easily destroy an entire village by itself, but with one hundred of them an entire valley could be bathed in flames. Something truly abnormal in this world, something so parallel to the code of battle that no army would ever think of it.
The Vaunghe were once considered to be the greatest fighters, with the tournaments they created bringing forth the greatest warriors from throughout the land. Their dedication and power were unmatched in ferocity and violence, some called the Vaunghe the standing due to their unmatched will to always get back up. Osmund recalled his days in the tournaments, those peaceful days when he was not yet a hero to people, but a simple military man. He was still only Osmu back then, and yet even those of the time knew he would be something special. As Christoff used to say, ‘Ozzie you’re going places, big ones’. Osmund missed Christoff, It had been so long since their last meeting, and all Osmund wanted was to meet again one last time.
Osmund’s assistant came to him, a younger Strolomite by the name of Gizmu. Gizmu was rather muscular for a Strolomite, a strong figure contrasting his associates' plumper bodies, and stature was fairly tall for one of his people at 6’5 ft tall. Hazel hair protruded through a blue helmet, and for the first time Osmund considered what his assistant could look like. Gizmu was one of the many Strolomite’s who refused to show their face until military success, a tradition that Osmund respected. He had no doubt that Gizmu's true face would one day be revealed to him, as the man possessed genuine prowess in the fields of agriculture, something sorely missed in the modern military.
“Osmund, your team is preparing now, they’ll come soon. I advise you to prepare your armour sir, as it won’t be long before you’re sent in.” Osmund sensed mild concern in Gizmu’s voice, but didn’t pursue it.
“Thank you Gizmu, my friend. I’ll begin my preparations, tell the guests to meet me here when they are fully prepared. And do ensure they understand that there is still risk of injury on this mission, ensure each of them wears their armour.” Osmund’s voice was deep and echoed his long life, commanding a sense of authority amongst all Alizian forces.
Osmund left the hill, passing the cheering Strolomite’s and the peasant farmers who supported the army, and entered the rows of tents. They stretched out on either side, one for every four soldiers, until he reached his own tent. Entering Osmund was surprised to discover a fellow commander still asleep in his bed, snoring away peacefully.
Osmund removes his upper clothing, the clean tunic falling to the ground. While removing these clothes Osmund kicks the sleeping man in the leg, which doesn’t actually amount to anything rather than halting his snoring. Osmund kicks the sleeping soldier again, this time in the buttocks, which does a far better job of riling him. The man looks around wide-eyed, before settling onto the sight of the giant Osmund.
“Hey, why'd you kick me? I almost had a bleedin’ heart attack don’t you know not to meddle with a sleepin man?”
“Don’t you know that you were meant to be on the battlefield at the crack of dawn? I don’t know what kind of promotion you’re expecting when you aren’t even going on the battlefield. Do you really want to be Balmun forever?” Osmund spoke coldly, now reaching for his chestplate.
“Well no sir. But the thing is I actually have a very cunning plan, I thought of it all myself.” A smile falls upon the man’s face, whose head bears an uncanny resemblance to a potato.
“And what is that?” Osmund halted his preparations briefly.
“Well if I say I was there but didn't actually go, who’d think I wasn’t? I can just sleep through it all until the battle is won and no one would be the wiser.” Osmund puts a hand onto Balmun’s fleshy shoulder.
“A fine plan, if I wasn’t your commanding officer you buffoon. By the gods I believe some divine creator mistakenly put a turnip in your head instead of a brain because no noble’s son has ever been as frankly idiotic as you have. You’re coming with me to the battlefield, and I suggest you get dressed or you’ll be facing the last of the Vaunghe army with your flopping cock dancing for all to see.” Balmun stood and began to slip some clothes on, as Osmund completed his own set of armour.
Osmund’s armour bore the mark of a noble family, some rich fools who wanted their family crest to be associated with a bloody conflict and a dangerous murderer. Osmund wore it because of the armour’s quality, customfit to encompass Osmund’s 9’5 ft tall body, something no other armour was able to achieve. Osmund’s height was always an oddity, reaching far above the average 8ft heights of most Alizian’s, and making him one of the tallest figures in the lands. It was this height and his skin’s colour that earned him the name of the black death, which he wasn’t particularly fond of due to the mention of his skin. And even then Osmund certainly didn’t feel like a black death, whatever that was meant to be, rather he felt like death itself. Osmund was to be fifty years old by the end of the week, and it showed on his body. The hair that was left on his head was grey, and while still possessing an impressive form Osmund’s body was not in its prime, he was old.
Osmund looked at himself in the full body mirror, grabbing his longsword and leaving the tent, dragging a half dressed Balmun with him. Back through the tents they travelled, back past the now eager Strolomite’s and atop the hill where Osmund’s infiltration team stood. In any other battle Osmund would’ve despised the one that left this group with him, a collection of subpar and mediocre soldiers with all the military future of an Otter in a stew. But then again Osmund’s battle history did feature a lot of important people dying under his watch, so perhaps this was for the better.
The force began with Edmun, a cross between a prostitute and a noble who unfortunately takes more from the noble. An egotistical brat, as well as a greedy goblin of anything that isn’t bolted down, Osmund had borne the unfortunate duty of his company for months, since the initial assault on the capitol. The man could barely hold a weapon, save for slight skill with a flail of all things which he wore by his side. It was a gold plated flail as well, specifically made for beating in the heads of the poor Vaunghe soldiers stupid enough to get close. Blonde hair obscured blue eyes that spoke to his red-light mother, in fact for a noble’s son Edmun had all the appearance of an incestuous dullard. The man had survived by pure luck, and was the only casualty that Osmund wanted his side to suffer.
The Enick twins Humun and Eumun were up next, named after their family crest of the god of alcohol Enick. In contrast to Edmun these were a pair of real soldiers, Osmund had seen the fruits of their labour many times. They were great at the art of flanking, Humon’s greataxe paired alongside Eumun’s spears proved to be an unbeatable combination. The only issue that Osmund had with the pair was their… peculiar relationship. While the two were great fighters, whenever they were together anything else became impossible to comprehend. Osmund had once caught the pair attempting to seduce a goat wearing a knight’s helm, and while they were drunk there is still clear evidence of idiocy amongst them. The pair were identical in appearance, burly figures of 8’5ft, short cut black hair and overgrown beards stretching down their faces, however the distinguishing feature between the two was Eumon’s cleft lip, which gave his speech a lisp.
Josmu was far more a scholar than a soldier, although Osmund enjoyed his presence greatly. Since they first met the pair had hit it off, often discussing each other’s lives in Alizian taverns across the kingdom. A gifted archer, Josmu was the son of two aspiring poets and enlisted into the military voluntarily to assist in the war efforts. Osmund had a great deal of respect for the man, and hoped that the two would one day have a drink together, and ruminate on the past once more.
And then there was Jumun, a gifted soldier and one of the few Osmund thought could take him in his prime. Long strands of red hair ran down her rough face, a pointed nose and peculiar eyebrow shape giving her a perpetual look of disappointment. At a height of 9’2 ft she stood almost toe to toe with Osmund, in fact there were many aspects about her that reminded Osmund of himself. The first was her attitude, she treated every war as a tragedy of its own, and yet she would never fail to perform against her enemies. Skilled in most weapons Jumun’s life had been long and arduous, her worn out armour covered in patches and dents. Osmund had offered her a new set of armour once, to which she vehemently refused, telling Osmund that she wished to end the war in the armour she started it in. Currently she held a single large sword nearly identical to his own, and Osmund predicted that she couldn’t wait for the battle to be over.
The group stood facing the smoking walls, watching the now descending Strolomite’s retrieve the three gifts from the gods. Pushing them back up the hill would take tremendous strength and a long time, which is why nearly double the number of Strolomite’s assisted in the endeavour. Osmund cleared his throat, prompting the looks of the team. All of their eyes were of Balmun, who was somehow already panting after a 2 minute drag through the ground. Osmund released the man and pushed him towards his new comrades, to which he sulked.
Osmund could see through the smoke of the ruins now, noting the strangely high number of bodies present from Osmund’s view. It appeared that there were more forces than originally estimated, as it was initially guessed there were around one hundred and fifty soldiers inside. Judging by the number of corpses inside those numbers clearly forgot to account for the possibility of trainees inside of the castle. This may be a slightly larger fight than initially predicted, although even supposing there were another hundred or so trainees locked inside rooms there were things Osmund could do against that.
“Alright then, good to see that some of you actually bothered to wake up today, Balmun, and I think we all know that this mission is going to end the war.” Balmun raised his hand.
“Yes Balmun?”
“Sir I have a very cunning pl-”
“Shove your plans up your slacker buttocks, you idiot. Now then, I’m gonna say this once, because quite frankly the more chances I give Balmun to interrupt the more likely I’ll butcher myself with this sword. Now then we are the backbone to the forces, our mission is to help take individual points of conflict from alternative points. We will accomplish this with the leaked maps of the castle gained from Vaunghe intelligence. Now then, originally it was believed that we were dealing with only around one hundred and fifty troops, but it looks like someone didn’t remember the number of rookie troops that are trained here, so we could be looking at a few more troops than expected.” Osmund saw the hand raised but tried to ignore it. The man with the potato for a head seemed adamant however, and raised his hand higher. When that didn’t work he raised both arms.
“By the gods what is it?”
“Well sir, what kind of weapons do you think they have?” Osmund stopped in his tracks, not expecting anything even related to an actual important question. A smile formed on his face, it seems that even fools can think every now and again.
“Decent question my friend, we can probably expect the basic mix of swords and axes, likely shields also, but we may have one or two archers running around however it’s unlikely any survived the wall’s collapse.”
“That is good Osmund, once we take a few down I need a weapon, I like the swords myself.”
“What’s wrong with your sword?”
“I left it in the tent sir.” Osmund cupped his hands into his face, cringing against the stupidity of this man.
“Listen…. just everyone follow me please, I mean by the gods man. Come on. Listen I don’t think we will need any armour with us today, we have the single thickest piece of meat just over there as we speak.” Osmund points towards Balmun, who turns to see what everyone is looking at. Without another word Osmund begins to walk down the hill towards the castle, muttering things that even the gods consider a little racy.
* * * *
The ruins of Dundis stood firm in their strength, with the ruined walls blemishing what was once a grand fortress that none had penetrated. Tall spires protrude from the shapeless stone complex. Along the gateway was a path leading directly into the Dundis entrance, which stood slightly ajar. Fragments of the wall had crushed many parts of the outside, with simple wooden stables and trees crushed by the weight of the plummet of the debris. The architecture that remained spoke to the complexities of the Vaunghe, as spiralling patterns adorned the walls of the castle, interlaced with rare jewels that coated the walls. The Vaunghe were so fortunate with minerals that one could find them coating their walls, despite the fact that no one other than a fellow Vaunghe was ever meant to see such a thing.
A veil of embarrassment and determination clashed as the group descended the hill, weapons at the ready. The group had reached the ruins of the wall now, debris coating the grass and the bodies that were surely there. Even destroyed Osmund still felt some of that divine power the Vaunghe always babbled about, he felt the strength in the walls and not for the first time wondered why the gods would bestow such a gift upon such a vile group.
The group began clambering through the ruins, over the cracked pieces of stone and through the divine walls final remains. There was a smell here, the remnants of smoke colliding with the smell of blood, but there was a third smell, one that Osmund knew well. It was the smell of inevitability, heavy in the hair. That which is unlikely to happen always will happen, and when it does the smell adds to it all, the smell of fate and destiny runs through this place.
Inevitability hides everywhere, in the trees and the skies, carried by the wind through it all. From nature it was born, but in man it thrives, the building’s will one day fall, the kingdoms will fade away, and everything will one day lead to something else. From every beginning comes an end, and each end becomes a beginning, this is how it has always been. This place thought itself against such things, and inevitability infected its walls, creeping along slowly rotting the once great walls into a hellish nightmare. Now the bubble has burst, and the smell of inevitability crowds the world, taking over everything.
Moaning. A low whimper. A cry for something. Calls for assistance. A terrified yell. Osmund approaches the source of these noises, his team close behind. At the source of these screams is a Vaunghe soldier, somehow alive after the rampart’s collapse, covered in piles of stone and smoke. His outstretched hand reaches towards Osmund, who in turn takes it.
The man mutters something, sputters blood, and begins to fade. As he does, Osmund moves towards the rocks, feeling against it. Somehow the rocks aren’t as heavy as they should be, and Osmund slowly moves the rocks. The first and second rocks move, and after some struggling Osmund moves the third rock, revealing a bloody leg, spurting forward. Osmund realises how the man survived, the remains of a metal box squashed around him. As the rampart fell the man landed inside, narrowly missing an immediate demise. Now he sat, bleeding in and out of consciousness, and moaning for help. Osmund put his hands around the man, slowly lifting him, and moving forwards into the inner walls.
There are running medics here, and as they see Osmund’s approach they run to him, taking the injured man and placing him onto a table. The man may survive, they told Osmund, however his bleeding may take too much from him. As Osmund turns to leave he hears the voice, the message of the man.
“T-t-th-than-” It was shaky, interrupted by coughs and convulsions, but bore strength, and Osmund felt the ghost of a smile play upon him.
“It wasn’t an issue.” And with that Osmund left the tent, admiring the surroundings in focus for the first time. Eyes bore into him from his party, and yet no one said anything, they couldn’t. Many had called Osmund a monster in his time, they had seen him do bad things to bad people, and yet none would call him a monster, for there is no such thing. Osmund is not some black death, he’s another beast entirely.
For the first time Osmund admired his surroundings, the inner walls were now filled with wreckage, and looked back to the tent. It was amazing how quickly the medics could establish tents, the battle had occurred for less than an hour and already there were three tents established side by side. Besides the wounded Vaunghe soldier were three other injured soldiers, each seeming to be hit by a minor injury likely from the smoke inhalation.
The captured and surrendered were lined up against the castle's wall, being carefully monitored by over sixty members of the contingent. There were only around twelve or thirteen of the captured, smoke-covered and sputtering. On the ground were bodies, those rookies that tried so valiantly to protect what they cared for. They now lay, looking up to the sky blindly.
Osmund saw the bodies and felt his stomach turn. The desire came back. The shaking returned, alongside it the painful sharp stabbing thoughts. Everything changed, he forgot who he was. What kind of person would approve of this, what even was Osmund was he real or fake, how is he even conceiving things like this. What is reality and why is it real, why can’t he understand-
Silence. Peace. Osmund returned to himself, the shaking never happening at all. He looked down at the bodies and continued to walk. There was nothing he could do for them, not anymore. The eyes of his group bore into him, shattering something that had broken a long time ago. He raised his hand and motioned for his team to follow, leaving this travesty of death and life behind.
Footsteps. Osmund turned to their echoing sound, the way they bounced through the place was unbelievable, the way it echoed between the walls and the castle structure itself. Through open castle gates he ran, a messenger in green, sword in its scabbard and now approaching Osmund. The man tripped on something, a large rock of some sort, before standing, dusting himself off and reaching the group.
“Osmund, we have hit the enemy’s points of defence.” The man was young, maybe twenty, and no more than twenty five.
“And? Where are they?”
“There are three fronts, the first is in the scout’s tower where a group of Vaunghe are amassing weapons and barricades fast. We can no longer enter the tower, as the amount thrown down makes common entrance impossible. The second location is the garden, where we believe the last of the nobles and the King himself are. We’ve faced harsh opposition from the enemies, who have formed a wall of shields to protect the door. Finally we have the guard’s quarters, where a few amount of Vaunghe are in active combat as we speak, although that will likely be taken without need for intervention.”
“Good job soldier.”
“Thank you sir.”
Osmund removes a slip of paper from his garb, and admires it in the sunlight. It was a complex map of Dundis, including the secret passages and escape routes of the entire place. It cost the annulment of many Vaunghe men and women, but was worth all the effort. Consulting the map Osmund noted the existence of an escape passageway inside of the tower. It was obscured behind a wall, thus explaining the lack of windows on that side.
“Report back to your commander that we’ll begin with the tower, there are several clear passages into an alternative staircase. Launching a pincer attack we’ll defeat the enemy and allow for the redistribution of forces. By that time I expect the guard’s quarters to be taken, allowing us to completely overflow any opposition protecting the garden.”
“Yes Osmund, I will inform her now.” And with that the young warrior ran back through the castle’s long iron gates.
The group followed suit, pushing the gates open fully and revealing the site of further bodies. They were inside the building’s inner wall now, the sun still bearing down upon them. This was the location home to many of the more important stables and areas for battle preparation. The ruins of a barricade lay around the door, alongside the copious number of trainee bodies who failed to protect themselves. While there was no evidence of the wall’s debris assaulting this place, there was still a large amount of destruction here.
The remains of statues greeted the group, once magnum opus now a disfigured remnant of what was. They were made of marble, and once depicted the Vaunghe gods, although who each one was could not be discerned, due to the broken faces and pieces they had been split into. The statues lined the walls of this castle, with a new statue lining the wall every five metres. If they weren’t destroyed they would likely be the most impressive feat Osmund had ever seen, standing at almost double his nine and a half foot frame.
Moving forward, Osmund looked to the north, where the entrance of the tunnel system began. According to the map the entrance was hidden below the royal stable, and gave passageway into the complex’s vast tunnel system that could lead to several strategic positions. Motioning for his group to follow, they moved slowly around the curved walls of the inner wall. The bodies gradually stopped appearing, prompting the drawing of Osmund and the other’s weapons, save for Balmun who still lacked anything to protect himself with.
The royal stable was just as grand as Osmund expected, long silver poles supporting a twenty metre stable. Beside each pillar was another statue of a god, albeit these gods were untouched and in their full glory. First was the god of thought, Merculd, a figure of 19 ft who sat upon a throne of gold. Adorned with jewels and royal fabrics, the bearded man watched down upon those that approached, beckoning them inside. The man himself was crafted out of intricate copper and glass, an architectural marvel that Osmund couldn’t comprehend its creation.
Beside the father of thought was the mother of art Freya, whose statue was in opposition to the metals of Merculd. Freya was a wood carving, an intricate and detailed depiction of the woman who was 15 ft tall, standing up with beckoning hands towards any visitors. Her face was carved to the smallest detail, with each individual tooth lovingly crafted on her mouth. In contrast to the first statue Freya’s was carved alongside her body, a tight fitting tunic layered over hard to know pants, due to the lack of colour or texture upon them.
The last of the three statues was Zid, the proposed god of the wall, a 19 ft tall mass of flesh and muscle. There was nothing to this god but his muscles, they were the only trait he has, a blank, general male face looming over the entryway. It was made out of stone, likely being the oldest statue here and thus the simplest. That is not to say the statue wasn’t a work of its own, every detail to Zid’s veins had been lovingly placed, it’s just compared to the other two Zid felt… irrelevant to Osmund, past its time.
The stable was enclosed in intricately carved stone, helixes intersecting each other granting slimmers of light into the stable. There was no damage here, no bodies, no other people, this was Vaunghe architecture at its finest, and all of this hard work was spent on a singular, slightly inconveniently placed barn. The oddities of the Vaunghe never failed to surprise Osmund, and he braced to enter the barn.
Straw floors and hay bales greeted him, alongside a single lone steed. A fine horse, certainly of nobility, awaited patiently for its master to return. It had been alone for time unknown, and yet Osmund noticed it was still being fed quite well, a decent number of carrots awaiting on a plate. Osmund opened the gate to the horse and approached the fine steed. He slapped it on the behind, sending it out of the stable and into the inner wall.
“Sir, I’ve stepped into horse dung. May I have another pair of shoes?” Balmun’s voice rang through the room, echoing slightly. Osmund responded by throwing a carrot at his head. Balmun dodged with less than a second to spare, and the armed man behind him was hit dead on.
Reeling back from shock and surprise, the armed soldier moved his sword to his front, trying to shield any further blows. The man was tall, 8’5 ft to be exact, and dirty. His armour was coated in dirt and remnants of the smoke from the wall. Osmund could see the desperation in his eyes, and now charged the man.
Osmund met the man’s blade with his own, parrying immediately. A foot swept the enemy to the ground and Osmund stood above him sword raised. The man went for the blade only to find his hand was removed, spouting blood everywhere. Osmund grabbed the man and pushed him to his feet.
“There is a base for any injured troops at the entrance to Dundis, go now before you bleed to death.” The man’s face flashed in surprise, and he quickly scrambled out of the room, hand stump spouting blood.
“Hey sir?”
“What is it Balmun?”

Ignoring or failing to recognize our own personal reality can have negative consequences that extend far beyond our own lives. When we are not in touch with our own thoughts, feelings, and needs, we become disconnected from the world around us. We may start to make decisions that don't align with our values, engage in behaviors that are harmful to ourselves and others, or miss out on opportunities for growth and fulfillment. This story will show how Dave made this mistake and came to understand the repercussions of his ignorance.
***
Dave had been hearing the strange footsteps coming up the stairs for weeks now. Every night, just before midnight, they started, echoing through his house like the hammering of a restless ghost.
He had lived in the old Victorian house for just over a year now inherited by her parents, and it had always given him a sense of unease. The creaking floorboards, the drafty windows, the flickering lights - they all seemed to hint at something ominous lurking just out of sight. Doors would slam shut on their own, objects would move from one place to another, and Dave had even caught glimpses of something moving out of the corner of his eye.
But it was the footsteps that really got to him. They always started at the bottom of the basement, slow and deliberate, like someone was taking their time, testing each step. Then they would pause, as if listening for something, before continuing on up the stairs, step by step, until they reached the door.
He'd lie awake in bed, listening as the steps grew louder and clearer, but when he'd get up to investigate, the sounds stopped.
At first, he tried to ignore them and pretend they weren't there, but as time went on, he found it harder and harder to do. He was consumed with curiosity and the dread of what might be lurking in his house.
He was certain that the origin of the inexplicable and eerie occurrences that had been plaguing him lately must have been emanating from the depths of his basement. His intuition was fueled by the fact that the basement was a secluded, dark, and damp place, providing the perfect atmosphere for anything paranormal to thrive.
However, to his dismay, he realized that the basement door was a colossal iron door, firmly locked by a key and he did not remember locking it or why the door was locked – he lived alone in that house and nobody else could have locked it. His initial excitement at finally identifying the source of the bizarre events quickly turned to frustration as he began an exhaustive search for the elusive key. He scoured every corner of his house, ransacked drawers, and turned over furniture, but to no avail. The key remained elusive, adding to his growing anxiety and fear.
The fact that he had no recollection of why the door had been sealed off only added to the mystery and fueled his imagination with possibilities of what could lie beyond the door.
He was now trapped in a state of confusion and fear, constantly haunted by the unexplainable occurrences in his house and the enigma of the locked basement door. It seemed as if the more he searched for the key, the more distant the solution became, and the deeper he fell into the unknown abyss of fear and paranoia.
One night, as Dave was sitting in his living room watching TV, he felt a sudden chill in the air. The room had grown cold, and he could see his breath misting in front of him. Then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw a shadow move across the wall. He turned to look, but there was nothing there.
Suddenly, he felt a cold hand on his shoulder, and he jumped up in terror. He spun around, but there was no one there. The hand had vanished, leaving only a lingering sensation of icy fingers.
Another night, as Dave lay in bed, he suddenly felt a chill run down his spine. The air in the room had turned cold, and he could see his breath condensing in the darkness. He tried to sit up, but something held him down, a weight on his chest that felt like a thousand pounds.
As he struggled to breathe, Dave felt a presence in the room with him. He couldn't see anything, but he knew that he was not alone. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end, and he could feel the static electricity in the air.
Suddenly, he saw a shadowy figure at the foot of his bed. It was humanoid in shape, but its features were indistinct as if it were made of smoke or mist. Dave tried to scream, but no sound came out of his mouth. He was frozen in terror, unable to move or speak.
The figure slowly moved closer to him, and Dave could see that it was holding something in its hand. It was a book, bound in black leather, with strange symbols etched on its cover. The figure placed the book on Dave's chest, and he could feel its weight pressing down on him, suffocating him.
He struggled to break free, but the figure was too strong. It spoke to him in a language he did not understand, its voice a deep, guttural growl that filled the room. Dave could feel the words vibrating through his bones, and he knew that they were not meant for mortal ears.
Suddenly, the figure disappeared, and the weight on Dave's chest lifted. He gasped for air, his heart racing in his chest. He looked around the room, but it was empty. The only sound was the pounding of his own heartbeat in his ears.
Dave lay back down, his body drenched in sweat. He knew that what he had experienced was not a dream, but a terrifying encounter with the paranormal.
Then one evening, as Dave was tidying up the living room, he noticed a small, rusted key lying under the edge of the carpet. He couldn't recall ever seeing it before, but something about the key intrigued him. It was as if the key had been deliberately placed there, hidden away from sight. He wondered if he had placed it there and if so, why? The more he thought about it, the more he became convinced that it must be the key to the basement door, the one that had been eluding him for so long.
A sense of unease crept over him as he held the key in his hand, his mind flooded with questions. The more he thought about the basement, the more he felt drawn to the basement, compelled to uncover the secrets that lay hidden behind the iron door.
With trembling hands, he inserted the key into the lock, feeling a sense of anticipation mixed with fear as he turned it. The lock clicked, and the door creaked open, revealing a dimly lit staircase leading down into the depths of the basement. The air was incredibly stinky as if something had been rotting there for weeks.
A chill ran down Dave's spine as he stepped into the murky depths of the basement, his eyes straining to see through the gloom. As he made his way deeper into the shadows, he could feel a palpable sense of unease settling in the pit of his stomach, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end.
The stench of decay was overwhelming. It was a pungent, nauseating smell that filled the basement, a miasma of putrefaction and rot. The scent of moldy bread, sour milk, and souring meat lingered in the air, mixed with the sickly-sweet smell of something decaying. Or maybe the smell was like rotten eggs and stagnant water.
He fumbled around in his pocket for his mobile phone, his hand shaking with anticipation and dread. As he switched it on its flashlight, the beam of light cut through the darkness, revealing the cobweb-covered walls and the old, rusted pipes snaking along the ceiling.
The light beam of his flashlight cast shadows onto the walls as he looked around. There were several shelves lined with overturned buckets full of soil, and marijuana leaves were sprouting out of them.
The flashlight then illuminated small plant pots filled with lush green marijuana plants. The wooden shelves against one wall contained an array of growing equipment such as lamps, fertilizer, and watering cans.
The walls were made of cracked concrete, and the floors were covered in dirt and dust. Normally, strands of white UV light would have filtered through the air if there had been electricity but for some reason, the lamps and the lightbulb on the ceiling did not work.
It was his secret marijuana plantation. How could he forget about it? He recalled locking the door whenever he came down to this clandestine room to keep unwelcome visitors away.
Suddenly, his toes struck something cold and unyielding on the ground. The flickering light of his flashlight spread across the floorboards and illuminated what lay before him. At first, he couldn't believe what he was seeing. His eyes strained to take in every detail, yet it still seemed unreal. But then he realized, with a creeping sense of horror, that it was indeed real. Lying there before him, bathed in blood and twisted at an impossible angle, was his own lifeless body.
For a moment, he couldn't process what had happened. It was as if his mind simply refused to acknowledge the truth. But slowly, like a tide coming in, the realization washed over him. He had fallen down the stairs, snapped his neck, and died right where he lay.
It was then that he felt something stirring inside him. A presence, hovering just beyond his understanding. He knew deep down that it was the residue of his own essence, no longer bound by flesh and bone. Imploring him to understand that he was gone forever.
As the full weight of this realization hit him, he sank to his knees in despair. For a long moment, all he could do was stare at the twisted shell of his former self and contemplate the finality of death.

https://imgur.com/a/2EeewJB
Is it up to code to use a Flexible Rubber Coupling for this join?
My Condo Association sent plumbers to replace part of the old cast-iron pipe in my "kitchen" with the white PVC pipe and they used a Flexible Rubber Coupling whereas before a Shielded No-Hub Coupling was used.
I tried to do some research and found this in the 2020 Plumbing Code (https://up.codes/vieweflorida/fl-plumbing-code-2020/chapte7/sanitary-drainage#705.3.3): " Mechanical joint couplings for hubless pipe and fittings shall consist of an elastomeric sealing sleeve and a metallic shield".
(I'm in Florida in case it matters).

"Imagine that you enter a parlor. You come late. When you arrive, others have long preceded you, and they are engaged in a heated discussion, a discussion too heated for them to pause and tell you exactly what it is about. In fact the discussion had already begun long before any of them got there, so that no one present is qualified to retrace for you all the steps that had gone before. You listen for a while, until you decide that you have caught the tenor of the argument; then you put in your oar. Someone answers; you answer him; another comes to your defense; another aligns himself against you, to either the embarrassment or gratification of your opponent, depending on the quality of your ally's assistance. However, the discussion is interminable. The hour grows late, you must depart, with the discussion still vigorously in progress."

• Kenneth Burke

~
If we separate from this mingled and moving stream of consciousness, our sensations and volitions, which are constantly giving it a new direction, and suffer it to pursue its own spontaneous course, it will appear, upon examination, that this, instead of being wholly fortuitous and uncertain, is determined by certain fixed laws of thought, which are collectively termed the association of ideas

• Daniel Oliver

~
“If, raised by the power of the mind, a man relinquishes the common way of looking at things… if he thus ceases to consider the where, the when, the why, and the whither of things, and looks simply and solely at the what if further, he does not allow abstract thought, the concepts of the reason, to take possession of his consciousness, but, instead of all this, gives the whole power of his mind to perception, sinks himself entirely in this, and lets his whole consciousness be filled with the quiet contemplation of the natural object actually present, whether a landscape, a tree, a mountain, a building, or whatever it may be… if thus the object has to such an extent passed out of relation to the will, then that which is so known is no longer the immediate objectivity of the will at this grade; and therefor in such perception the individual has lost himself; but he is pure, will-less, painless, timeless subject of knowledge”

• Arthur Schopenhauer

~
"...Monseigneur Sibour had great esteem and affection for Delsarte, and made him his frequent guest. It was in the salon of this art-loving archbishop that Delsarte achieved one of his most brilliant triumphs. All the notable men of science had gathered there, and the conversation took such a turn that Delsarte found opportunity to give, without offence, a challenge in these two lines of Racine:
"L'onde approche, se brise, et vomit à nos yeux, Parmi des flots d'écume, un monstre furieux."
("The wave draws near, it breaks, and casts before our eyes, Amid the floods of foam, a monster grim and dire.")
"Please tell me the most emphatic and significant word here," said Delsarte.
All reflected, sought out and then gave, each in turn, his chosen word. Every word was selected save the conjunction 'et' (and); No one thought of that.
Delsarte then rose, and in a calm and modest, but triumphant tone, said: "The significant, emphatic word is the only one which has escaped you. It is the conjunction 'and', whose elliptic sense leaves us in apprehension of that which is about to happen."
All owned themselves vanquished, and applauded the triumphant artist."

• L'Abbe Delaumosne

~

; And...

Lucky!? Iron Axe
Battleaxe, Rare
Damage: 2d4 Slashing
Versatile
Weight: 4.1
Value: sells for 200gp, cannot be bought
An traditional looking iron battleaxe althoygh the handle is several inches longer than necessary.
It was found near an abandoned log cabin left in stump used for woodchopping.
If the handle is closely examined and a DC 18 investigation check is passed a button is found on the base.
Pressing the button, the extra length of handle falls off and crumbles to dust on the ground. The item weight is now 4.
Pile of dust Contains: Pristine Sapphire Earings Requires: Investigation (Wisdom) DC 7
Pristine Sapphire Earrings.
Woundrous item, Sapphire Earings, Artefact
Value: 12000gp
Each sapphire is perfectly spherical with no work or tool marks, almost as though grown that way.
When worn: the user deals an additionlal 2d4 bludgeoning damage with Lucky!? Iron Axe.
While wielding Lucky!? Iron Axe: once per long rest: the user can shout “She’s a lucky one!” to simultaneously gain the effects of Bless along with Bardic Inspiration as cast by a 5th level bard.
Author’s note: Longtime lurker firsttime poster in this sub. This is my first ever homebrew so looking for balance related feedback. I’m on mobile. Please be nice.