White wall mounted spice rack

Poe reminds me of an angry nest of little tiny copium ants, living in their own little world when along comes a barbarian on a hell mount, (whaaaaaaaaa do you not have mounts) unaware of what it just trampled over on its way to battle a world boss (whaaaaa do you not have world bosses).
The toxic little white knight ants come out all angry stockholm syndrome. I mean i get it, i have a few hours of free play time in poe so i know how bad it is, nerf after nerf, qol held hostage, and no, stacking chaos from 10 to 20 isn't a qol buff pepekekpogpoggerpogged.
Once their season launches everything will be right again and they'll go back to being disappointed and hating it, this is the way.

So for a few months I have been experiencing some very questionable events that are all around fucked up and like the logic is i don't know. First it's like somebody is in my walls but it's too skinny for a grown man or really any normal human being to fit inside but I come home a few months ago after hearing what sounds like people in my walls and attic it's like paranormal but not exactly but there were 2 holes perfectly symmetrical and the holes are rough even circles about 6 inches in diameter but look like something tore it up went through the beams insulation and all like a human did it so I covered them up and then the wall under my window gets bashed out the next day when I come home and it's a old house and it falls apart sometimes but it doesnt do that on its own plus the thin wood was broken and no small animal would do that 1 and 2 I can tell it was slowly breaking it away I'll hear what sounds like bird noises but like no bird i ever heard it my life ill hear walking in the walls literally all the way around up until the hole under the window then it stops and I'll rush with a gun and flashlight and I'll see something large yet skinny rush away making next to no noise leaving me baffled on how and it goes on mroe and more damage i cant even sleep at night in here no more and then the wall behind my bed was literally lifted 7 feet in length and is slowly being cut above the foundation coincidentally right behind my head still to this day it's slowly being cut but more so clawed away I can tell I'll get some pics when I go back in and i just need answers man. Another thing is my village never has had, well I've heard stories of coyotes and shit but I lived in this same spot for 23 years my whole life and never heard a coyote or nothing but it sounded more like a wolf I was sitting here and like always shit started after 1130 like usual and I hear howling in the distance like far far away and I'm like I'm hearing shit then no lie on my meames grave God bless her soul not even 10 seconds later i hear 1 howl 2 then 3 all at once outside my window at once and I don't scare easy but I'd like to shit myself I look outside and mind you it's more so an open area and I don't see a damn thing yet it's right outside the house now I'm freaked out because it sounded like a wolf but wrong man just wrong I never heard a wolf howl so deep it's crazy, it went on for a few days and just stopped completely. Then what sounds like a tropical bird mixed with a whine of.. i don't know I never heard anything like this and usually no birds chirp at night arounn to where I cant hear I have whitenesses 2 friends and my dog. I even been to a head doctor but when my dog hears the strange I'd say chittering whine sound that I never heard before as well as my peoples it's fucking strange my dog is terrified mind you she drags a blanket in between the couch and wall whenever the house is empty and hides there until we get back with her eyes and face soaked looks like she was crying hard as hell with the most terrified look on her face. Mind you I'm native American but like the S.W shit makes sense but i lack knowledge. It's like a ghost that takes a physical form and shit don't add up. I need some legit answers please and I have more i just don't feel like going on. I'll explain more later. Believe me I'm not in any way trying to waste anybody time.

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Hi everyone, this is the first chapter of my debut novel. For information and links to other chapters click the link down below :
Reddit - Dive into anything
The Great One sat on his throne, gazing longingly into the hearts of man. Something was coming and he could feel it. Destiny riding on a white steed, like the tales of man long ago, coming to uncover his secrets. He could see it all, the wall, the castle, and the so-called gods that built it all. The ego of these creatures was laughable, if only the Great One could still laugh. He could still speak sure, but only through means not of man’s common means. Vocal cords were a commodity long since lost in this place.
As the Great One observed the coming destiny he could feel the approaching storm, in a hail of flesh and blood, the only things that the Great One lacked. He would never give up, never retreat to these things as they approached, for this was the Great One. He looked back to the castle, viewing the scene in its entirety, and he felt something like happiness enter him.
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.
And thus, the final battle was upon them. Osmund looked upon Dundis, the last symbol of the people who had taken everything from him, the ones who had slaughtered so many innocents, so many that Osmund cared for, and now the end was finally in sight. But it didn’t feel like the end, Osmund could feel no conclusion approaching, it felt like something else, as if this was all leading into something more, some grand massacre the likes of which Osmund had never seen. There’s a darkness ahead, something far worse to come than the echoes of a fallen monarchy, and as Osmund stands he can feel it inside of him, gesturing sensually, awaiting his return to the beginning. In a mental prison of nonexistent existence lies the mother, a slight smile on her lips. She awaits the grasp of Osmund forevermore.

It's only been a few days since some interesting GTA VI gameplay was leaked. The leak, which was authenticated by Rockstar Games, confirmed the location to be Vice City, and that there would be male and female protagonists. Some eagle-eyed viewers noticed something about GTA Online, though. What they found was an art asset that seemed quite familiar. A texture asset specifically.
Those viewers of the leak video noticed a Vice City Metro sticker in the Arena War update for Grand Theft Auto Online that hit a while back. ViceCityMetroMule GTAO White Back Art Asset from Grand Theft Auto Online showing the Vice City Metro Mule Logo
The original tweet no longer displays the side by side imagery, unfortunately. The Arena War Update for Grand Theft Auto Online was release four years ago after all. While this is interesting, it is not uncommon for developers to re-use assets, especially if there isn't a significant change to the artwork. Asset re-use can shorten development time in most cases and it is not limited to video games. Many people are familiar with the "Pixar Easter Eggs" in that film studio's pieces. It's an excellent way to not waste development cycles on things like debris and common texture work that is repeated throughout the virtual worlds -- whether in games or movies.
It is also not uncommon for Rockstar to hide Easter eggs in their games that may reference other games in the same series, or different titles altogether. Bully even included a Grand Theft Auto vehicle asset in its shop class. Sometimes the developers just throw in things to drive community interest, such as the inclusion of Bigfoot in a later patch of GTA V. Another fun Easter egg is known as the "Mount Chiliad Mystery." When it was found, players suspected it meant there was a jetpack somewhere in GTA V -- there wasn't -- but one eventually appeared in a GTA Online Mission
gta online arena war t shirts T-Shirts from the GTA Online Arena War Update
It's definitely an interesting inclusion, but it's certainly not the only reference to Vice City within GTA V and GTA Online. There's an entire wiki article on Vice City related Easter eggs on the fan wiki for Grand Theft Auto. Still, this particular metro logo was not seen until GTA Online, and now in the unauthorized leak, so in a way, players had confirmation Vice City would be used in GTA VI, if they were paying attention and connected the dots.

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Memory transcription subject: Andes Savulescu-Ruiz, Human Director at the Venlil Rehabilitation and Reintegration Facility. Universal translator tech.
Date [standardized human time]: December 1, 2136
After Larzo left, I read the reports for a few of the children that didn't have translators yet. Something wasn't adding up. There were dozens of notes of "predator disease", with symptoms as broad as "inability to sit still" and "flat affect". I'd heard comments from the psych department about being shocked by how much aliens sucked at psych, but I didn't expect it to be so bad, especially given how good they were at neuro. It reminded me of "hysteria" diagnoses. The tag just became code for "freaked a nurse out once".
Once I read everyone's file, I put the helmet back on and headed to the North Wing (primarily staffed by Venlil and Zurulians) to check on them in person. I really needed a new visor. Putting it on and off all the time was proving to be a hassle. There were some new models I’d seen in “specialty human stores” near the refugee camps, where the visor had a stiff structure at the top and a loose cloth-like one at the bottom, allowing for ease of eating. It looked just like all the others from outside, while being vastly more comfortable. That seemed like something I could stand wearing all day.
I went through all the high-priority language-acquisition kids who'd gotten the implant. They were incredibly shy, and liked to huddle up close, but had taken well to them. Two of the smaller kids were holding up toy spaceships and making whooshing noises with them. The visiting teachers had already cleared most of them for starting classes here, and if they proved they could handle it, they might start attending a special education school outside the facility to help them with socialisation. A few of the boys, who tended to skew younger, were watching a screen together. Two girls and a boy were playing with construction blocks quietly. Some of the kids with implants were even attentively listening to one of the nurses read from a book and show them the pictures. None of them were any flavour of literate(obviously), but their impairments seemed minimal and likely to be reduced over time if given sufficient support.
It seemed we had gotten absurdly lucky. The other facilities had more catatonic kids. I counted two out in the corner with vacant eyes, but they were huddled together at least. Prosocial behaviour. Some others were twitchy and clearly hypervigilant, but they were responsive.
Then I went through the ones with the scary scans. Like I suspected, the kids with "predator disease" just looked like kids to me. Maybe a little hyper or rambunctious, but they'd just discovered elbow-room. Both reactions made sense: huddle together for a sense of safety or explore everything everywhere all at once the moment you suddenly can.
It was reassuring! Just because a brain looks fucked up, it doesn't mean it is. Brains, especially those of children, are incredibly malleable. People with hemispherectomies live largely normal lives, after all. There were stories of concentration camp survivors complaining about the quality of their food within weeks of being freed.
Hedonic adaptation is often greater than we give it credit for. A creepy brain scan is just one data point. Watching them interact made me orders of magnitude more optimistic about their prospects.
Two of them were fighting over a toy with all their might. One eventually won and the other fell on her butt. The victor ran off and hid behind a filing cabinet. Instead of crying for help, the losing kid seemed to just glare and begin plotting her revenge. I couldn’t help but chuckle at the quiet seething coming from that adorable little fuzzball.
"Is this typical of them since their arrival?" I asked a human aide.
"Yeah. Kinda wild for Venlil, but I think that's probably better than the ones that are basically catatonic. Thoughts, Director?"
"I agree. But we might have to move them around soon. I'm a little concerned about some of the tags in their files."
She nodded and went to help someone else bring in a box of storybooks.
I found I kinda liked the deferential way in which the other doctors and nurses and aides treated me as I checked on them. "Yes, sir", "of course, Director Andes". Larzo just called me Andes, which was fine, but I liked feeling important sometimes.
One of the girls in the low priority group kept sneaking glances at me. She had a speckled pattern of dark spots on her white fur, with two big black shapes around her eyes and a round smaller one around her mouth. She reminded me of a dalmatian my neighbour had, when I was a kid. It was aggressively cute. She rushed up to the aide that was handing out snacks, made some growling noises and pointed at me.
Hmm. That must be one of the ones they said struggled with language.
"Oh that? That's the human director,” the nurse said, squatting down to be at eye level with the kid, then added in a hushed tone “don't get too close to the humans. They're predators."
That seemed a little crazy to me (if she can call me a predator, can't I take off the stupid helmet? Was that not the information we were trying to keep from them? Was I going to have to reprimand the anxiety-filled rabbit-sheep on her third day of work?) but the little girl with the spots didn't seem freaked out at all. She just kept staring at me.
It might have been a little creepy if she wasn't so adorable.
The nurses and aides--especially the Venlil ones--seemed most comfortable with the babies, who would be sent to adoptive homes soon enough, as they had the best chance of a smooth reintegration into Venlil society.
The older kids had a curfew, and specific meal times, but were otherwise encouraged to wander around the different sources of enrichment built into the first floor of the North Wing, from playgrounds to books, to a little room filled with data pads that had child-friendly cartoons. There were some classes, but the psych specialist had decided that after being so cooped up, the kids would struggle with the concept of freedom, and so we should make it as clear as possible that they now had it. I headed back to my office which existed in a smaller section between the two wings.
There were a few things in need of cleaning up, but they'd all been addressed. I took off my helmet and got to work on my first report to the Committee for Rescued Venlil Rehabilitation - Human Division (CRVR-HD).
Perhaps an hour into that process, I met my venlil counterpart. He passed by my office door and let out a startled squeak. He dipped into his office, left his bag inside, and poked his head into my office. I thought I saw a shadow move when he did, but I assumed I must have imagined it. That or it was some sort of space butterfly in the periphery of my vision.
"H-h-hello... H-h-human..."
I took a deep breath, which he found somehow intimidating. I took another deep breath, to avoid getting pissed off by him finding breathing intimidating.
"Hello, you are Doctor Karim, right?"
"Yes, yes, and you, um, you are, uh. Um." I couldn’t tell if he had genuinely forgotten my name, or if he was just that freaked out.
"Andes Savulescu-Ruiz."
He frowned. "Not Doctor?"
I shrugged. "My university got blown up, so I'm not really sure what the status is on my credentials. But I did finish my doctorate, if that means anything to you."
He started shaking a little less and walked closer to me.
"Y-yes, I was-was told. Doctor Andes is fine, you have earned it."
I gave him a nod. He nodded back.
"I had, um, assumed that I would b-be um. Director of… this facility. I did not know what to expect of a human um, co-uh. Co-Director."
"To be honest, I don't know what to expect either. When they told me I would be spearheading this, I didn't think there would be a human division and a venlil division. I assume it's so you guys don't have to boss humans around if it freaks you out."
"Yes," Karvim said. "Yes, most certainly. And for your predatorial expertise."
My what? "...Go on?"
"These children. They have been reared–if we can call it that–by and among predators, for the most part. We do not know if they have acquired predator disease, but even that framework is currently being questioned. So your perspective will be vital. Not to mention you are known to communicate with the Arxur, which we… may have need of." He looked a little pissed off about that last part. I decided not to focus on it too much.
"...Good to know," I said, positively baffled about my supposed predatorial expertise.
“I will begin my work now. Feel free to leave. It would be better to avoid unnecessary overlap,” he said. I realized then that he was expecting some sort of tagging in-and-out where we don't actually interact.
“We’ll have to discuss that later,” I said, “human sleep-wake cycles don’t map well onto venlil ones.
“So I’ve heard. Have a good rest of your shift,” he said, and headed out.
As though summoned by mention of “predatorial expertise”, Shaleth called me two minutes later, and nearly gave me a heart attack.
“Andes, I have been returned to my people in exchange for your pets. How are you finding them?” he said, like it was the most natural thing in the world! I nearly jumped out of my seat when he popped up.
“What the fuck? Doesn’t this shit have caller ID? What are you doing?” I scrambled to lower the volume and figure out the settings on the app.
“You are not happy to hear from me?” he asked, clearly a little miffed. Did he ask Asleth for my info?
“I’m at work! You can’t just call me at work. I’m working with–”
“With the cattle, yes, the ones you like so much. I asked you how you were finding them,” he repeated, clearly not grasping the whole I am at work situation.
“They’re… Doing as well as we could expect, Shathel. Some are better than others.”
“Well I hope they’re worth the effort. The lab meat you sent in exchange is really quite delightful, you know? I believe I understand now why the Chief Hunter is so eager to have an alliance with you Humans.”
“Well… Good. Cruelty-free, you know?”
“Ah, but sometimes the cruelty is the best part!” he said, like a whole-ass supervillain. I couldn’t help but laugh.
“Sure, Shaleth, sure, the brutal murder is the best part of eating,” I said with a roll of my eyes.
“Spend enough time with those quivering creatures, and you’ll soon see it my way,” he said smugly. “Send me a message when you are not at work. I demand to know what has happened since you arrived on the most succulent of planets. You look healthy.”
He ended the call and I groaned, leaning back into my chair and rubbing my temples. I ran a hand through my hair, leaned back against my chair, and only then did I notice a little white tail, with little black spots peeking out from behind one of my bookcases.
“...Hey there, little lamb,” I said, a little concerned about how much of that she’d heard. I was pretty sure it was the same little girl who’d pointed me out to the nurse. She peeked out from behind one of my boxes of books, and stared directly at me. Still cute. “Did you need something?”
She didn’t say anything.
“...Should I call a nurse?”
Nothing.
“You know I don’t actually think you’re food, right? We’re not gonna eat you. Is this okay? Should I put my visor back on?”
The stare remained.
“...Alright, how about… I just go over here…” I slowly got off my seat and walked over to the door, “and I open the door… And then I back away so that–” In a blink, she scurried out of my office.
“...Well, that’ll be an interesting conversation with Dr. Vemla,” I muttered, and finished up my report. Once done and sent, I headed over to the Psych floor on the North Wing. Doctors Vemla and Rodriguez were having a heated discussion.
"--don't understand the needs of the Venlil. The signs! We are different from humans!"
"I know," Rodriguez said, trying to placate her. "But what I have seen thus far is entirely explicable through trauma, I don't want to write these children off."
"Then I should transfer them over to you," Vemla said pointedly, as if it was a threat.
"I don't see why not," Rodriguez said, giving her a little shrug.
"Everything good here?" I asked. Vemla was a little startled by my appearance, but seemed grateful suddenly.
"I fear we may be leaning a little too much into the human comfort with predatory behaviour," she said, "one of these children bit another one. And the way they move their tails… as if they had weights attached to them. It's unnatural."
I nodded. "Okay… I believe the proposed course of action is wise, then. If you think these children are dangerous, they pose the least danger to human workers. Transfer them over to Rodriguez. We'll see about housing details when the South Wing is finished in a couple of days and they've stopped pouring in from the main hospitals."
"Very well," she said, looking suitably satisfied. "It will be a good way to test the efficacy of the human way of handling these cases."
"I agree," Rodriguez said.
"...Alright," I said, "Doctor Rodriguez, can we talk?"
She led me into her office, closed the door and took off her visor.
"One of the kids saw me talking to an Arxur," I said. She paled, then tried to force herself into a more neutral expression.
"Um. And why exactly–"
"It was a surprise call, I didn't know he had my info," I explained, hoping it didn't look too defensive.
"And the child, how are they?"
"...Seemed fine?"
She looked at me curiously. "Fine? No crying, no shrieking, no shaking?"
"Yeah. I opened the door and she scurried out like a mouse caught with a cookie in a spotlight."
Rodriguez provided me with a patented Psychologist-grade "Interesting".
"I thought so."
"Could you identify this child?"
"Oh sure. She looks like a dalmatian with big spots on her eyes and mouth."
She nodded. "Keep an eye out for her. I think I know who it is. I'll notify you when I have a session with her."
"Sounds good," I said, and headed out the door. "Good luck with your new patients."
She nodded. "Thank you, Director."
I decided to clock out and hit the gym after that. The notion of the gymnasium for recreational purposes seemed to be entirely alien to the Venlil. Soldiers exercised, as did exterminators (or, some of them, anyhow). But it seemed to be more of a duty than a desire, which is why the “gym” was just a room with a soft floor, a couple of small treadmills for testing purposes, weights, and–paid out of my own fucking pocket–a set of gymnastic rings. Between the prohibition of “predatory” pursuits like martial arts and the fact that everything was heavier and harder, I’d settled into an annoyingly difficult yoga routine.
Larzo came by at around the fourth pose. I shifted the weight from one leg to the other and he stared for three whole breaths.
“Can I help you?” I asked, glancing back at him before focusing on my form again.
“... Yes, I was… I was looking for you and thought you’d… Could I draw you, when you do this?” he asked.
“Sure?” I said, because what else do you say when an alien marsupial asks to draw your yoga poses? “Why were you looking for me?”
“Well, I noticed a curious pattern among some of the children and I thought we should have a meeting about it.”
“Schedule it with Karim,” I said. “I clocked out five minutes ago.”
Larzo scoffed. “As if he would listen to me. Come on, Andes.”
“Alright, I’ll schedule it during my next couple of shifts, now what do you–”
As I shifted to a “rainbow bridge” pose, looking at him upside down, I noticed two venlil little girls staring from behind the rack of weights. One was the one who’d been in my office, and the other one was black with a scruffy white band around her neck that didn’t reach her shoulders and white hair on top.
Their ears were startled up when they noticed me looking at them. I looked off to the side to see them better through a mirror instead of directly.
“What do I what?” Larzo asked. I slowly brought a finger to my lips. The girls had stopped looking at me so intently, and instead were facing each other and hissing, with the occasional growl or baring of teeth. Were they having an argument? Could they do that?
One of them saw I was still looking at them through their reflection and grabbed the other. They scurried out of sight. Only then did Larzo notice them.
“Oh. I saw one of them earlier. She had a scratch.”
“The one with the little spots snuck into my office. Cute, aren’t they?” I said, switching to a handstand as slowly as I could. “Sneaky too. I wonder what they’re up to.”
---
SECURITY FOOTAGE VIDEO TRANSCRIPT, MODIFIED TRANSLATOR SETTINGS ANDES-5
[standardized human time]: December 1, 2136
[Four venlil girls sit inside a room, each on their own bed. They are identified as 85731-C, 85763-D, 86392-B, 85719-A. Henceforth referred to by the last digit and letter of their designation.]
1-C: I found the room the big one works in.
2-B: I saw him too. He's not that big, some of the other bosses are bigger.
1-C: He's the strongest. And they know it. They bow their heads and say yes sir.
9-A: What are you trying to do? Do you want them to eat you?
1-C: I am trying to give us an advantage. It worked before. Find the biggest boss. Get the biggest boss on our side. We get extra treats and don't die.
3-D: Never go alone. Always together. Bad idea.
9-A: Why are you like this?
2-B: You have no idea if that worked. They could have been fattening us up.
1-C: They didn’t. They brought us here. Because we were good.
2-B: They brought plenty of prey here. We are not special. Never be first or last, most or least, best or worst.
3-D: Never volunteer, never call attention.
2-B: See? 85763-D Understands! Why can’t you understand, 85731-C?
1-C: I understand better than you. New place! New rules!
2-B: You’re slow and stupid and soon they’re going to realize you’re too ugly to be a productive girl and any babies you have will be slow and stupid too, and they’ll eat you instead of taking you to breed.
1-C: You’re slow and stupid! You can’t even hide from them! I hid for a long time and he didn’t even notice me, but with you there he noticed right away!
2-B: Of course you’re good at hiding, there’s nothing to look at!
[1-C runs out of the room]

This is a super long shot, but I wondered if anyone has an OEM Range Rover p38 rack that they mount a tent to.
I just purchased the rack today and am wondering if I can safely install a Kukenam or Low Pro on it. I saw a blurry pic of the owners manual and it says it can handle 80kg (173lb), but not sure if that's only dynamic.
Would appreciate any help!

I have some pineapple juice leftover and thought it'd be fun to make this instead of my normal whiskey sours, but I'm a novice baker. I only have 3/4 cup of pinepple juice with none of the fruit, don't have a box of cake mix, but have most baking staples. I know that's probably not enough juice to both put it into a 9x13 cake and the soaking "glaze", so where will it add the most pineapple flavor to the finished product? I do have bottled lemon and lime juices so i could up the fruity flavors with one or both of those in lieu of more pineapple juice.
I'd like to make something like this https://100krecipes.com/pineapple-juice-cake/ but in a 9x13 pan, but with a better cake. Maybe mix blueberries into the cake, but if there's lemon/lime already then that might be too much going on. Thing is, all the well thought out yellow cake recipes, with buttermilk (i have whole milk and vinegar, lemon, or citric acid), sour cream or Greek yogurt, extra yolks, vanilla (don't have), and what not don't include fruit juice. I don't know where I'd put it in and not screw up the cake. Plus they're usually for round layer cakes. Hell one even included cream of tartar, and stella parks had potato flour. Don't have those either lol. Oh yeah I have ap flour instead of cake flour. This homemade yellow cake mix https://www.simplyscratch.com/homemade-yellow-cake-mix/ cuts butter into cake flour like biscuit dough, which would help keep ap flour more tender right? If that makes a significant difference, can I use a food processor?
So basically, I'm trying to make this thing as involved and pro level as it needs to be for great results with some ingredient concessions where needed. This level of baking isn't difficult to do when you have a recipe. I can make good brownies and other cakes, and I can beat egg whites or whatever. It's just hard for someone who's never baked much to come up with his own recipe and the internet is full of crap recipes using water instead of something to provide flavor or richness. Or the sites just copy each other, giving me no confidence in what they say. I figured there should be some experienced bakers here who have a good recipe or are good enough to create one. I have maple syrup, some pretty dark rich honey, and sweet spices like cinnamon, clove, and a few more, but no vanilla or almond flavoring of any kind.

For context, I live in Wellington, my dog used to attend daycare 3x a week (mon, wed, fri). He is an entire Neapolitan Mastiff (1y old). I knew when I got him, that he is a “giant” breed and he won’t be fully grown/ready for desexing until about 2 years old. I made the daycare very aware of this when he first started (around 6 months old), they didn’t seem to have an issue with the situation, he was also not the only entire male dog (or female) at this daycare. My dog is not aggressive. he submits to every dog he’s ever met, unless they’re growling at me (obviously not an issue at daycare). He is not a dog who picks fights, he is a big stupid goof who gets bullied by cats. I have seen another dog try to have a go at him, he didn’t know I could see them and he tried to run away with his tail between his legs, crying and being as low as possible, this was on our property which is obviously his territory.
Occasionally the daycare would make comments at pickup like “he mounted another dog today” but never really made it seem like an issue, just a passing comment that was not being made daily and they never seemed hugely frustrated with it. On a random Monday I picked him up like normal, and was told “he cannot come back until he’s desexed, he’s annoying the other dogs”. I was shocked, this has never been a big thing and I had no warning. I was told that the female dogs are getting very frustrated with him trying to mount them all the time, they said he’s no longer playing with the other dogs, he’s just mounting the girls. I have seen him mount various male dogs when he gets overly excited whilst playing (he immediately calls off them when I say his name), but he has play dates with multiple desexed females who I have never seen him mount (I watch him closely when he’s playing because he doesn’t know how big he is and it’s like being hit by a brick wall at speed). I understand that it isn’t preferable to have him doing this or annoying other dogs, but they knew I would not be desexing him until he was of the proper age for his breed. Why did they not have an issue with it in the first place? The other entire male is quite aggressive towards my dog, I have come across him while picking up my dog and he tried to lunge at my dog aggressively. Luckily my dog is not smart and was trying to walk me out the door to get in the car so the other male didn’t manage to get close enough to hurt him. This whole situation is quite strange to me, something that seemingly wasn’t happening often has now resulted in my dog being kicked out of daycare with absolutely no notice, whilst he is not an aggressive dog, especially in comparison to another entire male there. I’m not interested in taking him back there even when he is desexed, but it’s just so off to me. Is there anyone who could possibly shed some light on this?

Currently in the process of buying an apartment, and the first thing I want to get rid of is the gas. Easy enough to swap the stove for induction, but the water might be more of an issue.
The heater is an externally mounted on-demand gas heater. I'm looking at buying some cheap $500 10L on-demand electric heater.
The big issue is that if I replaced the gas heater for the electric, I'd need a gas plumber and an electrician. Costly. So I've had another idea I'd like to run by any water plumbers:
1: Turn main water valve off and bleed pressure
2: Mount water heater under bathroom sink (uses wall plug, no electrician required)
3: Put T junctions on hot and cold water wall outlets
4: Connect sink's hot and cold water inlets to one of each of the T junction outlets
5: Connect the second outlet of the cold water T to the heater inlet
6: Connect heater outlet to the second outlet of the hot water T
Now at this point, I'll have people who have never operated plumbing state the obvious: Hot water won't be flowing from the electric heater because the mains pressure coming out of the electric heater will get cancelled out by the mains pressure from the wall's hot water outlet.
Solution: Disconnect the gas heater's outlet, capping both the gas heater outlet, and the hot water pipe it was connected to. Unless I'm mistaken, this should allow all hot water fixtures in the apartment to output hot water.
Dodgy fix? Yeah, probably, but it's easily reversible if I ever decide to sell the place or rent it out, and it sounds like a nicer price tag compared to the more direct solution. So, go or no-go?

Hi all! I recently moved into a new apartment, and I have a question for other tenants. The apartment smells really strongly of Indian spices, which I’m not used to at all. The apartment has already been professionally cleaned and the cleaners supposedly scrubbed the walls and cabinets. Any tips on getting rid of the smell?

Basically what im saying in the title, I'm looking at buying a James baroud tent to mount on my eezi awn K9 roof rack. The tent is second hand so Im not gonna get the right mountings. does anyone have this setup or know enough about it? Could I get away with "bolting" it to the rack or do I need to buy the eezi awn adapters/ do they fit the james baroud?
thank you!

Name: Fraij
Alias: Fridge Fitzgerald
Age: 117 (We actually don't know, he's a millenial being)
Title: Great governor, God of ice and wisdom.
Main weapon: A spear that looks like mount Everest wich is actually an halberd
Main power: The eyes of Fraij: if he looks at someone with one of his eyes he freezes it in a block of ice, if he looks at someone with both his eyes, the unlucky one TURNS into ice.
Appearance: He has long, black and wavy hair, he wears a white jacket whit azure accents. His pupils are surrounded by a snowflake-looking symbol wich is azure. his skin is very clear and very cold at its touch. He also wears black pants and shoes.
Weakness: If both of his eyes are badly damaged he will die.
Personality: His nickname is not "The cold ahh beach" (censored) for any reason, althought he looks nice, and acts this way sometimes, he can be a real a**hole (censored again) and deepely offend you. (he's basically an antihero)
Trivia: His name is literally "Fridge" mispelled. He is AroAce. His nickname is "The cold ahh beach" (very censored). He's the 4th strongest god.

Hello! I'd like to preface this by saying I'm not trying to complain and am actually really loving Lost Ark so far. The graphics are amazing, story is enjoyable, combat is unique, and I assume lots of people like the game based on how many bots there are in the starting area.
I recently picked up Lost Ark and just hit combat level 39 on my Artist. I see a lot of places talking about how raids and cool gear upgrades are available at level 50, which I assume isn't too far away, but I'm a little confused on how long that'll take me. I currently have 38 hours on the game, and I don't know if that's typical or not. I'm just wondering how much longer it should take me to get to play with other people, because it's pretty lonely in the earlier areas.
I usually complete games pretty fast which is why I'm curious. I've been completing all the quests I come across and collecting mokoko seeds but other than hitting that stupid barricade on Mount Zagoras for like 40 minutes, I haven't really been doing anything too crazy or out of the way. Should I be farther along by now? Is there something I'm missing?
Also, when do I get cute outfits? The ones I'm getting now are basically recolors of the same crop top and booty shorts (I don't mind the style it's just that this green + brown combo is giving me hives), and I'm really jealous of the cute mage outfits I keep seeing on the bots. Are there any outfits I can get for actual money? When I open the shop I just see a couple simple coats and some baseball outfits (?) but sometimes on the loading screen I see an "Artist outfit" promotion. Are those actual gear sets I'd have to level up to be able to buy?
This is a lot of questions rolled into one and sorry for the wall of text! I'm just kind of twiddling my thumbs atm because I find the combat not super challenging thanks to the new character buff. I haven't died or even been close once, is the class I chose overpowered or something? It is still fun but I want to play with other people. Also not used to Reddit so let me know if I should format posts differently or word things in a different way :)

For context; I played Sorc (~lv22, initially easy mode then upgraded up one difficulty when it was too easy) and Rogue (~lv9) on a 3000 series Ryzen 7 and a 3060 gpu with Windows 11 x64.

Starting off with the great

• Art direction is fantastic
• Spells and skills feel great
• Combat still feels slick
• Cinematics team is still one of the best
• I appreciate that its got an M17+ rating
• Mark as junk is a welcome improvement for inventory management. I kinda wish there was more marking types (mark as junk, mark for scrapping, etc)
• Storytelling has definitely stepped up from the Saturday Disney villains of Diablo 3
• Never had a crash!
• I like the revised potion system

I'll start with what could potentially be fixed by launch

• Rubber-banding issues when walking between areas. I kept running into invisible walls and then bounced back to a previous spot when walking between two areas. Most notably the Kyovashad and Eastern Gatehouse/Cathedral of Light.
• An annoying delay after talking to an NPC while the camera pans, preventing you from choosing the next dialog options. I'm a bit of a lore junkie and playing it for the plot.
• Can't always skip dialogue with characters? Couldn't seem to find a pattern with it.
• Subtitles on movies are buggy. Doesn't go away after words are spoken or de-sync within a minute.
• The (dungeons?) felt too too big, overstaying their welcome. I had moments that I was so bored while backtracking that I actually dozed off at the computer.
• Big bosses seem to be mainly damage sponges. The one at the end of Act1 took forever with 2p, despite the pattern not deviating much other than attacks speeding up a bit.
• If I'm playing solo, please for the love of Akarat pause the damn game when I press ESC. Coming back to a dead character after having to run off and do something on a moments notice isn't fun.
• I can see textures loading in as cutscenes play.
• Why can't I right-click and teleport to someone in my party? The friend I was playing with was genuinely angry about it
• It's too easy to miss waypoints. Could we automatically activate them once we step foot into a town?
• Camera zoom levels of the gameplay area (this has been discussed thoroughly by others already)
• Comparing off-hand damage tooltips seems buggy (off-hand skull showing me +1 damage, swapped off-hand showing me +13 damage). How could they both be better than the other?
• Every cellar I went into was the same hallway/room. Did I just have awful RNG?
• My basic lightning arc attack was one-shotting mobs. Chain lightning destroyed everything it touched. The iconic frozen orb spell? Merely tickled the enemies...
• Exit dungeon button is useless whenever I reach for it. Dungeon map doesn't always have "leave dungeon" or leave area. I don't always want to TP back to town.
• I keep pressing "E" by accident during a battle and it is always followed by panic as chunks of my HP are taken out. Remapped it to backspace
• Performance is steady for the most part, but randomly stutters for a few moments.
• Consider unlocking the skill slots for the earlier levels as we gain more skills. What's the point of letting us unlock multiple skills if we didn't have the ability to use them in slots?
• Sometimes pinned locations on the map will show you a red line path that isn't valid

Post-launch improvements?

• Character designer has so little options compared to Lost Ark. The interface to create your character felt really clunky too (eg. left/right buttons instead of a gallery)
• If I was somewhat bored with the "increased drop rates" during beta then I'm not really looking forward to the launch drop rates
• Only realising it now after the beta had finished, I never noticed the music in the game. Is there even any music?
• For a game that was touted as Diablo+MMO I found very little reason to interact with strangers, and even if I wanted I found it very difficult to figure out how.

Things that stop me from buying but unlikely to be fixed, ever

• No offline mode for console. I am not paying a monthly subscription fee to PSN/Xbox to play Diablo solo.
  
• The story-telling mechanisms used are cheap. D4 is too much "telling", not showing
  

-- Over-use of holograms to re-tell events
-- Neyrelle's mum is having the time of her life following Lilith around. Why on earth does she spend so much time leaving diary entries on stone tablets?

• The plot/dialogue is an insult to the intelligence of the M17+ audience. I found Dead Cells had a more intriguing way of telling a story than Diablo 4.

-- After gruesome scene where priest is killed in church, Lilith speaks to guy in hoodie, "Now our true work begins" - that last line cheapened the whole scene. Would have maintained a more menacing tone by ending with "Go to the Dry Steppes and proceed with preparations".
-- Our character is drugged and abducted after their first meal, escape and hours later happily agrees to enjoy a meal with another total stranger (Lorath)
-- A grave danger has been unleashed upon this world, we need to hurry! But first, carry this token around in the snow to a few altars. Then seek blessing from our living Angel. Oh he didn't approve? That's ok, I'll bless you anyways lulz
-- Nobody in town seems surprised by my discoveries about the big baddie. They all seem to be ahead of any developments, why cant they just save the world themselves?

• The world feels TOO big? I felt fatigue looking at the map and thinking about how much walking is required before a mount is unlocked. Parts of the game felt like a walking simulator (could just be a me-problem)
• Sorc skill-tree seems too linear, felt more like a skill-stick.
• Missing the feeling of building a character the way we want and having items supplement that build, rather than the other way around. Most notable after playing D2R prior to D4 beta.
  
• Why no local co-op for PC?
  
• I feel nothing towards the MMO aspects of the game.
  
• I feel next to nothing towards the story of the game.
  
• I thought my friend was lying about how much the game costs (too damn much)
  

Thanks Blizzard for the D4 open beta, but I have now confirmed that the franchise is no longer what I crave for in an ARPG.
This is really sad for me as I always saw Diablo 1 as the genre defining game and Diablo 2/LoD/D2R as the gold standard that every game aspired to be. Hundreds of hours sunk into D1/D2LoD, not even including the time on creating fan apps (mobile app for Runewords) and D2 mods. D3 was ok, RoS fixed it up but the ARPG genre now has alternatives.
Diablo 4 is a decent game. I want it to succeed and I'm sure many will enjoy it thoroughly, but it's not for me.