2021.11.29 11:00 Esdeath_The_Pirate He still never had a shot but at least the playing field is more level now
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2021.11.29 11:00 nooMehTrednUedalBts1 Every single freaking time.!
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2021.11.29 11:00 GODwOROSEOSTic 🧬Meta Shiba - Gem X100 Today 🧬 | Stealth Launched 10 Minutes 🧬 Ready to Moon hard | 🔥 Small MC 🔥 | Marketing More Later Today!
🧬Meta Shiba - Gem X100 Today 🧬 | Stealth Launched 10 Minutes 🧬 Ready to Moon hard | 🔥 Small MC 🔥 | Marketing More Later Today!
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🧬 Buy : https://exchange.pancakeswap.finance/#/swap?outputCurrency=0x7b0d473446babdfa4b932fcfccc64f9bbce20e3b
🧬 At the start of the plans are to grow a very strong and stable community through the use of Telegram and Reddit. Some paid promotion is in the works and hopefully the community can also band together to help the token out!
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🧬 During we will be focused on marketing, and partnerships. We will be exploring many different use cases for our token. We will start looking into ways to promote our token use. We will also be looking for more people to bring onto the team, i.e devs, graphics designers, marketers.
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🔜 COMING MORE
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🌐 Official Links
🌐 Telegram: https://t.me/MetaShibaCoin
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2021.11.29 11:00 ComradeCommissary Vietnam Jan-Nov coffee exports likely down 4.4% y/y, rice up 0.8%
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2021.11.29 11:00 msmoley More women are giving birth after uterus transplants
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2021.11.29 11:00 SvansyVonSwansea Svansy studio
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2021.11.29 11:00 Jeni_ackerman Ask Anything Thread
2021.11.29 11:00 ComradeCommissary Japan's Gakken ties up with KiddiHub to expand business in Vietnam
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2021.11.29 11:00 VoilaLeDuc On the NW border of Utah and Nevada. [OC]
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2021.11.29 11:00 Unl0ck3r 'It's all lies'. Migrants stuck at Polish border feel cheated by people smugglers
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2021.11.29 11:00 PumpyDGreat 【OVERCOOKED】GUERILLA | Neph's Hell Kitchen Nightmares【Crescent Link】
2021.11.29 11:00 flickto_cm1 We've passed 200 delegators!
Waking up to find we've reached and surpassed 200 delegators! 🥳
There's still time to delegate before EPOCH 306: https://adapools.org/pool/1ae474a832cb712bf8f922938ab99d5c899e373ddebf066a135addc6
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2021.11.29 11:00 WesternTumbleweeds SANDWICH GENERATION: Navigating finances while being a caregiver
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2021.11.29 11:00 RSurvivorMods Survivor 41 | Episode 10 | Day After Survey Results
Here are the results from Episode 10's Day After Survey.
You can view Google's interactive summary of the results here.
Total Responses: 628
Average: 9.28 (Highest score so far this season!) Standard deviation: 0.97
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 0.0% 0.2% 0.0% 0.3% 0.2% 1.0% 2.5% 12.9% 30.7% 52.2%
Contestant Reactions Note: Respondents could choose up to 2 Survivors for each question. The top 5 results for each question are listed.
Which Survivors played the best strategically?
Which Survivors were the most exciting characters to watch?
Which Survivors gave the best confessional(s)?
Note: Respondents could choose 1 option for this question. Heather and Xander had 0 confessionals this episode.
Which Survivors gave the best challenge performances?
Which Survivors gave the best Tribal Council performances?
Note: There was no set criteria for this question. Respondents could answer based on strategy and/or entertainment value.
Overall, which Survivors stood out to you the most this episode?
Note: Respondents could choose up to 3 Survivors for this question.
Was this the right time for Ricard to take a shot at Shan?
Yes, he needed more agency and this was his best opportunity No, he has put himself in a bad position for the next few votes I don't know 81.0% 12.9% 6.1%
In one word, describe Shan, the eleventh boot Word cloud of common responses.
Overall, how would you rate how this episode was edited?
Average: 9.21 (Highest score so far this season!) Standard deviation: 1.06
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 0.0% 0.0% 0.0% 0.3% 0.3% 1.5% 6.5% 11.7% 26.5% 53.2%
How would you rate the reward challenge?
Average: 6.91 Standard deviation: 1.65
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 0.5% 1.0% 1.7% 3.8% 11.1% 17.0% 30.0% 19.8% 9.4% 5.8%
How would you rate the immunity challenge?
Average: 6.86 Standard deviation: 1.85
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 1.5% 1.5% 2.5% 4.9% 9.9% 14.0% 27.4% 22.8% 9.4% 6.2%
Next Time on Survivor
Which Survivors are in the most danger next episode?
Note: Respondents could choose up to 2 Survivors. The top 5 results are listed.
2021.11.29 11:00 CommonJabroni Made from scratch carnitas bowl
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2021.11.29 11:00 SeventenU Beleben wir das Rippelz Reddit wieder!
Ich brauche dafür DICH. Falls ihr irgendwelche lustigen Clips oder Templates von Raphy habt, dann sendet Diese im Rippelz bei genügend Clips kann Ich eine Compilation zusammenschneiden. Ebenfalls könnt ihr für die Posts auch Flairs (Tags ähnlich) benutzen um nach bestimmten Kategorien zu filtern.
Liebe an alle die mitmachen! <3
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2021.11.29 11:00 kevinkaye Grow Your Channel # 318 - Playlist Buddies & Small YouTubers Support
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2021.11.29 11:00 AutoModerator NFTs Used as a Social Identity & Owning the internet again
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2021.11.29 11:00 AlphaAstroX Not mine, but....
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2021.11.29 11:00 DrJigsaw SEO Tip #33. Avoid BS Link-Building Tactics
The only type of link-building that works is building proper, quality links from websites with a good backlink profile and decent organic traffic.
Here’s what DOESN’T work:
2021.11.29 11:00 sdrisc2692 Otis is a male cow with udders
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2021.11.29 11:00 turnaround0101 [WP] A little known cosmic fact is that there were only ever 10 billion human souls produced. As the population slowly creeps upwards, the department of reincarnation struggles to find a workaround.
Ten billion souls to Splinter and they’d taken his Jen. Trey stumbled through an ocean of neon wrapped up in that, feet splashing through puddles of cold, lightly acidic rain.
He had to stumble, or be seen to. A few streets back he hadn’t and a Vulture had come up out of his sheltered alley with a piece of rebar and bad intentions. Trey had gotten lucky, stabbed the man before the rebar connected.
So he stumbled now. It made him look drunk or lost, his torn replica of a replica leather jacket made him look poor, and if he looked sufficiently broken the other Vultures might stay in their little shelters. Even light as the acid was, it still took minutes off your lifespan.
People kept their minutes now, held them tight to their chests. Since the Splintermen, people had realized what those minutes meant.
Trey was on his way to see one of them now, a Splinterman by the name of Jaylene Slide who held Jen’s soul bought and paid for. His Jen, who’d died of a brain hemmorage at age twenty-six and who he’d never married, never had any claim on but a few years and some promises in the dark. Jen who’d owed the wrong people too much money, and been Cut-Out for it.
Trey stumbled past a red eye looking out from a dark alley, framed by a string of lights that sputtered out a heat-death instead of flashed. The rain warred against the constant advertisements, hovering on the augmented edge of reality. A miniaturized zeppelin picked up his implant’s signature, tracked him at distance of a nautical mile shrunk down to the zeppelin’s tiny scale— maybe five feet. It hawked wares in a dozen languages, espoused the beauty of the transit tube to Trey’s left, where a ring of rusted steel lay half torn off its hinges, heaved up out of the ground. Water poured in. Trey moved on.
The zeppelin dissipated and the queue of advertisements moved themselves up. A buxom blond with a matrix address strung across her like a fishnet dress strutted past, a cowboy selling guns walked arm in arm with a samurai caricature selling swords; there were too many cats speaking too many languages.
Jaylene Slide didn’t advertise. Splintermen didn’t as rule. They fetishized word of mouth in the ephemeral, pop-up storefronts where people like that operated.
“Hey!” someone shouted.
Trey glanced over his shoulder and saw the Vulture from before, his fist clamped tight over the shiv Trey had planted just above his hip, his other fist wrapped white knuckled around a jagged piece of rebar.
“Transit tube four! Last stop The Dark Age!”
Trey nodded to the man he’d wounded, fished a $1,000 cred-stick out of his pocket and dropped it into the deepest, murkiest puddle he saw. The man stumbled as Trey had stumbled, eyes fixed on the little slice of black being swept away.
“Transit tube four! Last stop The Dark Age!”
The synthesized voice of a synthesized girl, twelve years old if she was a day, adorable in those cute little Japanese outfits that anime tried to make you believe anyone still wore. Trey walked towards her. Outlined in neon blue by his AR she was like the zeppelin, another shining waypoint for a transit tube.
“Fuckin’ bastard!” the man with the rebar shouted.
The tube’s hatch opened and Trey stepped in. The air was hot where it touched his skin, hot and gentle, an odor like crushed lilac suspended in motor oil. Falling, pillowed by the air’s caress, Trey let thoughts of Jen carry him away. Ten billion souls to Splinter and they’d taken her.
Trey got off at The Dark Age, a club as anachronistic as its name where crusty old men washed up drunk against the shores of home: neo-industrial synth warred against a darkwave typhoon from its two themed entrances, as twenty-somethings in tight leather skirts pulled in patrons at the door.
They called to him too, voices barely audible over the torrent of mismatched noise. Trey stumbled by, they were just another form of Vulture. Here they preyed on all kinds.
It took two more transit tubes and another knifepoint robbery to find the matte black door and the plaque that said simply “Slides.” No shirt, no shoes, not a dollar to speak of, Trey ducked inside. Some trips didn’t take money. A businesswoman like Jaylene Slide would know that.
Inside, the light hurt Trey’s eyes. A fat man in a mesh shirt sat in a folding chair next to the door, staring up at him disagreeably. Trey shrugged, made a gesture like “What can you do?” The man caught the door with his foot, rested one hand on the grip of massive, gaudy pink revolver.
“What do you want?” the man said.
“I want to talk to Slide,” Trey said.
“Then you can fuck right off back that way,” the man said, pointing back through the open door.
Trey shook his head, after the wet and the heat of the transit tubes his hair was a knotted, frizzed out mess. “Nah man. I’m gonna talk to Slide.”
Mesh Shirt let out a theatrically put-upon sigh, prepared himself to stand— he was the sort for whom preparation mattered— but Trey leaned in very suddenly, one hand upon the gun handle, one knee pressing into the man’s crotch.
“Tell her there’s a man with too much soul here, hoping the business has left her with just a little.”
Trey took his hand off the gun. A moment passed that could have gone either way, and though Trey thought he hid it well, beneath his bravado he was screaming with fear. They have Jen, he thought. Some goons scraped her off the kitchen floor and handed back a husk, sold the woman I love for parts. Ten billion souls to Splinter and they—
The man shrugged rounded, hairy shoulders. “Suits,” he said, stripping off the mesh shirt. “Take this, there’s a dress code.”
“What about you?” Trey asked, sifting the sweaty mesh in his hands, insubstantial as air and wider than a fisherman’s net.
“I ain’t on it.” The man settled back into his chair, let the door stay closed. Wrapped in black thoughts and a sagging cloud of black mesh, Trey padded barefoot into the the offices of Jaylene Slide, Splinterman.
It was cleaner than he'd thought it would be, the walls a stark and sterile white hung with generic, inoffensive art.
All the other customers were here in the matrix, men and women hovering on the edge of perception, a blink-code away from Trey’s AR filtering them into reality. They were grayed-out ghosts until then, couples in various stages of matrimonial-or-otherwise bliss. Two men in Period-20th century anachronisms leaned against each other by the western wall, the lines of their spectral bodies blurred together at the edges of blocky, shapeless suits.
Three women, all rendered massively pregnant, their bellies alive with differently colored lights, poured over a catalog of faces at the counter. They ooo’d and ahh’d as faces flashed through cyberspace in front of them, and where the women were ghosts for Trey, the things they saw were hardly even that, though every time they swept a hand through the air he prayed they weren’t looking for daughters. Jen.
On Trey’s right a man and woman argued, though the old arguments had all fallen away. Names and color schemes were archaic now, baby clothes and baby showers and a thousand other things. Now your child could be whatever you wanted it to be, spliced six ways to Sunday in the gene labs out in Chiba, or grafted together from cloned parts in Buenos Aires. This couple was arguing about a soul.
“Well this one’s a painter!” the woman said. “Wouldn’t that be so nice, a painter in the family?”
“We should take the engineer and you know it,” the man said. “Or the mycologist. Good money in mycology, and who knows, maybe fungus throws true. We pay for a good cut, buy a prayer down at the shrine. We might be rolling in hallucinogenic morels.”
Trey passed them in a dreamlike haze. Jen had been a painter.
There was a robot at the counter, the guardian of a beaded door into the parts of the shop where all the awful magic happened. In the real world archaic television screens were set into the walls displaying a rotating band of pretty, smiling faces, hash-marks torn into the upper corner of their foreheads to count off the Splinters already given. The boards never showed how many might be left, but the faces rotated quickly and sometimes they disappeared.
Trey cleared his throat as the robot turned to him, squared shoulders lost in an ocean of mesh. “I want to talk to Sli—”
Jen’s face flashed across the screen. There were no hash-marks, just a boxing of flashing text that loudly proclaimed she was new stock, virgo intacta.
“Get me Jaylene Slide,” Trey growled.
The robot’s servers whirred, eyes snapped through the visual spectrum as they focused on him, reading Trey’s life story on the chip in his head. “Credit denied,” the robot said. “Kemal? Why is this man wearing your shirt?”
“I’ve got your fucking credit right here,” Trey said, point at the hole where his heart would have been, had he not left it on the kitchen floor next to her. A kitchen floor he would never see again, an apartment Trey had flipped along with everything he owned, bleeding credsticks across half the city until he found this place, this catalog, this stupid robot.
You should have told me about your debts, Trey thought, I’d have paid.
We didn’t have to marry for me to pay.
“Sir, I really must insist that you leave the premises. Here at Slides we cater to a higher sort of—”
“What is it, J-3?”
A young woman ducked through the beads. She was too young to be Jaylene Slide and Asian rather than Black, maybe eighteen, nineteen, a fresh faced look that made twenty seem ambitious or jaded, reinforced by the holographic ivy motif that twined down her white frock.
“This man wishes to speak with Dr. Slide,” the robot, J-3, said.
The girl turned to Trey, took in the borrowed shirt and the bruise blossoming across his cheek. “Can I help you with something, sir?”
“Doubt it,” Trey said, “unless you’re the money behind this operation.”
“God no! I just work here. Why did you need to see Dr. Slide?”
“Because some day even you people will learn how fucked up this business is," Trey said, “and because until then there’s gonna be people like me with broken hearts and more than soul than sense. Get your boss.”
The girl bit her lower lip, red gloss smudging off against white teeth. Then she nodded, her eyes tracking across the doorman’s mesh shirt. The beaded curtain rustled as she went.
All the matrix-goers watched him. Trey bristled at them, tried to force their attention away, but what did ghosts have to fear from a man like him? He couldn’t touch them, couldn’t disrupt them. If he shouted they could simply tune him out until Kemal at the door came back with his gun and reclaimed his shirt.
“Ten billion wasn’t enough,” Trey said, “but this is? What happens when your kids have babies, huh?”
That made them look away. The air was silent and uncomfortable until the girl poked her head back through and nodded. Trey leapt the counter in one quick motion, got through the door before the robot had even finished turning to watch him.
In all the world there were only three jobs that a robot truly couldn’t do. There was sewer cleaning, because the acidity and decay of the sewers ate through the robots faster than the waste-corps could afford to buy them. There was music, because the truly refined palate changed its tastes too quick now and snobs always claimed that they could tell. And there was Splintering, because nobody was sure if it was legal enough to invest the R&D money, and because the Splintermen insisted it was an art as much anything, the bleeding edge of transcendental expressionism married to the surgeon’s scalpel, mixed up with a pinch of the mad scientist’s genius.
To look at her, Trey could tell that Jaylene Slide believed it. A white wrap-around dress with a ruggedized, bacteria slicking front served as her lab coat. Tattoos crept up out of the dress’s neckline, subcataneous bands of smart-ink that glowed and pulsed and twisted into new, intriguing shapes in tune with their wearer’s mood, most often worn in lieu of an expression.
Slide glanced up from a complex array of tubes and decanters slaved to a glowing display, her face blank, tattoos a roiling band of displeasure. “Iris, why is he wearing Kemal’s shirt?” she asked.
“Because it’s Kemal,” the girl said.
Slide shook her head. She had an expansive afro, her earlobes were gauged with spent shell casings. “And what does this man want? What is his name? Why did he not have a shirt of his own?”
“I didn’t ask,” Iris said.
“I’m right here,” Trey cut in, “ask me, not her. Or you know what, why don’t I just tell you. That’d pretty easy, huh? I’m here because you stole my girlfriend’s soul.”
“Iris, did I steal anything recently?” Jaylene Slide asked. Her eyes were back on the display, toying with numbers and sliders. Nothing moved in the decanters or the tubes, but there was a powerful sense of disquiet in the cramped little lab. A stirrupped chair rose up out of the center of that disquiet, made Trey want to scream.
“Three men with guns broke down my front door and Cut-Out my girlfriend’s soul right in front of my fucking eyes,” Trey said. “Do you have any idea what that’s like? Can you possibly? I brought pizza home to a dead woman and an hour later some goons took her away from me, handed back a husk. A husk. They say you can’t tell after they Cut-Out a soul. The mortuary places all say the body’s the same, the person’s the same. The coffin’s the same too, the pricetag, the—”
Trey’s voice had gone ragged, his breath coming in short, shocky bursts. “Jen Ibarra,” he said, “Jen Ibarra. I saw her picture on the displays outside. She was a painter, she had a degree, she went to church when the holidays didn’t run up against her inspiration. Please, just check. I know you have her.”
“We do,” Iris said softly, her hands worrying at her frock where the ivy twined around her hips. “I remember her face. She was beautiful.”
Jaylene Slide sighed. Pushing herself away from the machinery she swiveled her chair towards her assistant, still deadpan, her tattoos illegibly murky. “Charming, but we have a job to do and as it happens I remember that soul too. We just got an order in. There’s a couple who have just conceived a daughter.”
Trey stepped towards decanters, a grunt and a hammer cocking stopped him. He turned and saw Kemal leaning the doorway, his body shrouded by multicolored glass beads. He held the revolved loosely in his hand.
“Find them another soul,” Trey said.
“Kemal, please deal with him,” Slide said.
“Find them another soul and I’ll trade you mine!” Trey shouted.
Everything went very still.
“That got you, huh? Profit motive, I fucking knew it would. You people talk about being artists but really you’re businessmen. You know a good deal when you hear it. So give it up, let Jen’s soul go right now and I’ll trade you mine. A fresh soul, virgo intacta, a willing one at that. Think of how many Splinters you could get off of me— I swear, my soul won’t resist a thing. Lossless. You’ll never have had a Splintering go so easy.”
Trey stood firmly rooted to the heaving ground as the greed seeped into Jaylene Slide’s eyes. He had said it. He had made the offer that had been burning itself into his soul for a week, words that would damn him as they saved Jen.
Because Splintering as they said, was an art as much as science and it followed art’s rules. In science they that said matter could not be created or destroyed. In Splintering they said anything could be destroyed, and that souls, which could not measured by such simply, arbitrary bounds as matter, were no exceptions to this.
Thus the Splinterman’s art was at its core an art of destruction, a violent, transgressive rebellion against the old truth of hard celestial economics: that only ten billion souls had ever been created. The Splinterman had found ways to create more.
They could Splinter as many as ten Soul-Splinters off a fresh human soul, slip those bits into ten newly conceived children to create passably fine little humans. Properly raised they could be almost indistinguishable from a human with a real, uncut soul. Almost.
But the human soul was far larger and more complex than ten Splinters. The difficulty of the Splinterman’s art then was not in the execution, but in the combat of the thing. The human soul was immortal. It had been for longer than anyone could imagine, might have been for longer than universe itself existed. It fought tooth and nail for survival, and when Splintered there were losses. Some souls only made eight Splinters. Some seven. Some very, very determined souls might yield as few as five.
But a willing soul? Like whittling down a fresh cut switch, you had only to sweep the Splinters off the floor and keep whittling until the barest whisper escaped on the wind at the end, too small to even animate a person to go clean the sewers. Lossless, it was the Splinterman’s holy grail.
It was all Trey had to his name, a soul wrapped around his love, heart broken for the woman he had failed.
“You can’t possibly mean that,” Jaylene Slide said. Her tattoos had gone very still. “You can’t guarantee what your soul would do after death, it’s the rarest thing, it’s—”
“Look me in the fucking eyes,” Trey said. “I mean it.”
She stood. Jaylene was a tall, strongly built woman with a hard edged stare. After a few long seconds she raised her fingers to Trey’s throat, checked his pulse. Steady. Even. Her skin was cold, her fingertips surprisingly calloused. Trey didn’t move a muscle, didn’t breath.
“I believe you,” she said, a little girl’s wonder creeping into her voice. “Iris, I believe this man! I’ll want a contract of course, but… sir, I find I don’t know what to say.”
Iris went to a nearby desk and dug up a datapad, made a few quick alterations before handing it to Trey. He skimmed it until he saw Jen’s release and then stamped it with his thumb print. Nothing else mattered.
Jaylene Slide took the datapad reverently, laid it down next to the mess of decanters and tubes. “Are you ready?” she said.
“Is there anything you want to say?” Iris asked.
The question stunned him. A week of searching and hoping, desperately hoping for this moment, and Trey had never imagined what he would do when he got there. Boyfriends had words they could say in a moment like this. Things that could sum up a loved one’s life, what they’d meant, what they’d done. The sort of impossible, unbelievable, life-altering woman they had been.
“I should have married her,” Trey said.
Jaylene Slide hit a button on her display panel. A faint shimmer disappeared from around the decanters, its absence only perceivable as a sudden hole in the world. Carefully, almost reverently, she brushed her hands up the longest of the transparent, almost-glass tubes to the cap at the top. Slipped it off.
A charge ran through the world and was gone.
Trey could never have explained how, but he knew it was her.
They sat him down in the chair with the stirrups, leaned it back until it was nearly a table. Kemal left then, and Trey could hear him speaking in grunts to the robot at the counter. Jaylene Slide worked with a quiet efficiency at his side, things shifted, glass and metal clinked. Trey closed his eyes to it all. Jen. He wrapped himself in the word that had been her and was now simply air. Jen.
“Are you sure about this?” Trey opened his eyes to see Iris by his side, her hands trembling in the air between them. Jaylene Slide was gone, making more quiet, efficient noise in another quiet, efficient room.
“Yes,” Trey said.
“But how? You’re not even…”
“Dead? Give your boss a few minutes.”
“Don’t say it like that!”
“Then how else is it?”
The girl stepped back. Her eyes wide as saucers, luminous with a sheen of fledgling tears. “Why are you doing this? You could leave. I could let you leave. You could hit me and I could fall down and you could run.”
“Your man would shoot me.”
“He might miss!”
“Your boss would—”
“Iris?” Jaylene Slide called. “You are still my employee, are you not?”
“Just tell me why?” Iris hissed, leaning in to Trey’s side. “Help me understand!” She looked terrified and so very young. There was a part of Trey, a not insignificant part, that wanted to know how a girl like her had ever come to be here.
But the larger part of him was still wrapped in Jen and always would be.
“Ten billion souls,” Trey said. “There are ten billion souls in all the universe, and there are already ten billion people using them. Hell, more than that now. And somehow people always think about that as small number. But you know, eventually you hit a point where you realize just how big ten billion is. Kid, I bet in all the lives my soul has lived this was the only time it ever met hers. I bet that Trey Gutierrez and Jen Ibarra never even lived within a thousand miles of each before this lifetime. It took millions and millions of years of human evolution for me to even hold her hand.
“Lets be real kid, I’m never gonna meet her again.”
“But if she loved you as much you love her, she wouldn’t have wanted this!” Iris whispered.
“Hell no she wouldn’t have. She’d have killed me herself if she knew I had this in me. But you know what? Nine months from now Jen is going to wake up in a brand new little body, a whole soul with a whole new life to live, and she’ll never know my name again. And you know what else? It’s better that way. She’ll never know why she’s waking up.”
“Iris!” Jaylene called, annoyance clear in her voice.
The girl left, crying. She came back holding a tray of tools and sat at his side, barely controlling the shaking of her body as she handed her boss the implements she called for. Trey was tightly restrained. A strange, many-antenna’d device was affixed to his temples and his heart. A visor came down across his eyes and Dr. Jaylene Slide instructed him to look into it. The inside of the visor was a stark black that ate the light, a perfect void. The longer Trey looked into it, the more he could have sworn a color grew.
A soft, small hand slipped into his. Iris’s voice said, “I’ll remember you.”
“Remember her too. Jen Ibarra, she has paintings in the Galerie Duperey.”
“I will,” Iris said.
“Do you see the color?” Jaylene Slide asked.
“Yes,” Trey said.
“Good. Now close your eyes.”
Trey closed them. The color was burned into the insides of his eyelids. Trey spoke three languages, he had no name for that shade.
“Now open them,” Jaylene Slide said as slipped the needle into Trey’s neck.
His eyes twitched once but did not open. His breathing slowed. Stopped.
In the aftermath there was work to be done. Iris pulled a hood over her heart until she fell into the regular, numbing rhythm of her orders.
The Galerie Duperey. Jen Ibarra. Trey Gutierrez. She would remember.
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2021.11.29 11:00 universityofga Researchers work to improve pecan shelling process
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2021.11.29 11:00 MisterLupov Struggling with giving The Amber Temple an important role in your campaign? I just ran the Vault battle. It went amazing, and there's still a lot of temple to explore. Here are some of my twists to the original story, make use if you see fit.
We all know the Amber Temple is deadly af. My tarokka readings didn't put any treasure inside of it so I kinda struggled in how to convince my players to visit and explore the temple. Here the dude at Lunch Break Heroes(checkout their youtube channel) opened my mind. And also did reading through Van Richten's Guide to Ravenloft.
First: The Amber Temple is a prision for powerful beings coming from all the planes of the universe. Why is it in Barovia? The temple is not in Barovia, Barovia is in the Temple, more so, in one of the demiplane cells that keep these beings imprisoned. The Amber Temple was built to never be found, its location was sent away of the world and never spoke to anybody. And it should be changing constantly as the mages inside it transport it through the planes to avoid being found. Someone transported the temple into the vicinity of Barovia before Strahd did his pact, and then there qere not enough mages to take it away.
The Amber Temple looks kind of forcefully inserted inside the mountain, like it was discovered after centuries of mining precious gems in the Mount Ghakkis because it was litterally inside it. (There you can give some diamonds to your players if they need to ressurect someone).
As Strahd half-way released Vampyr with his pact, the Vase containing Vampyr is broken and the demiplane extended throughout the Barovian vicinity. This is an emergency containment system in case of breach. So the means to Defeat Strahd are not only the barovian treasures, but what lies inside the Temple. Vampyr must be seales away again. Here enters Lunch Break Heroes's Vampyr ritual.
Now we can imagine that throughout the ages, lots of peoples would've tried to release some of the things inside the Temple, and so, those things could in some way try to reach out to the adventurers, depending in how succesfull the previous people that tried to release them were. So now, to keep the players in the Temple:
Introducing Nerin, The Lady of Iron Thorns. An archfey dryad of roses, corrupted by elvens, As they used her to torture their war prisioners for centuries until she kind of found a fetish in it, and now craves torture. To imprison her, her heart was taken out of her body and put inside a reliquary a emmisary of the amber temple was sent to put as far away as possible. Ages passed and, entering the dreams of those who found this reliquary, Nerin has managed to lead it inside the temple before the last carrier died to the dangers inside. She can approach one of your players and with some nice fey talking tricks you could force a bind. I used the "give me your hand" to them actually taking of a hand of the player's character and replacing it with one of hers. This character now can see Nerin appearing occasionally, and Nerin can somewhat see and hear through their eyes and ears.
Now where's the reliquary? I changed the vault with six piles of loot because of there's loot and that's all to some thing more macabre: The vault is not a vault, it is a disposal room. There in the center lies a pile of hunderds of corpses, made bone and dust with time, with all their weapons and belongings. The pile of Intruders. Now we have a logic explanation for a big loot room.
I also changed the amber golem inside of it for a Relentless Juggernaut of VGtR. 10/10 would recommend.
So Nerin knows her last puppeted person died inside of here but after they die her connection is broken, so she doesn't know where they put them. As the characters explore the vault she says there must be somewhere they pile the dead because lots of people have died inside there and there are not enough bodies in the hallways.
Turns out her last friend is one of the bodies in the pile, and the reliquary to release her is in there. Bingo, now she is always offering something to convince the player's character to help her. I started wit her sharpening one of the characters blades, making it from +1 to +3. And if they are in danger, as against the Juggernaut, or the arcanaloth, She might even help them a bit so they don't die in the last mile of her path to freedom.
Now where's Nerin Cell? I put it in the same room Vampyr's one was. So they can grab some intel on how to defeat Strahd at the same time they can release another super being into the world.
Why would they not be imprisoned into Nerin's dimmension after that? Because this one is not a half-release as Strahd did with the pact with Vampyr. This is a full release ritual that has been going on for centuries, these characters just hopped up in the last mile, she would be free again. Something kind of what Vampyr is triyng to do using Strahd as his champion. His method is becoming a god of Barovia, extending this demiplane through the worshiping of it's inhabitants, and so fusing it with the material plane. What is needed for that? Maybe some pure love of a innocent?(Ireena)? Your take here.
Oh and also change Stolyanovich for a Loup Garou. Make him a scary werewolf for real.
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2021.11.29 11:00 AutoModerator New coronavirus vaccination status as of November 29, 2021