Eek

After scratching my way to last-day-of-live-scoring day victory last week against Bangle-Doof, I’m being out-sprinted by trusty FaceWaster V (His hand-picked pitching staff now maturing to fruition). Only to have his J.Hader lose twice and likely blow a save before the week is out! Do the gods smile on me by smiting my foes? I tend to think the almighty has nothing better to do that ponder FMLB rosters with me, and help me take revenge on my lesser, alternate selves.

I’ve made bood moves across rosters: I gave them all some of the best performers of the year, amd chose them in a waiver order from lowest standing to highest. It is s model I’ve used in FF leagues. Notice how my roster has been full of duds? FaceWaster is a notoriously tough pitching opponent, but recent injury and turnover may be a weakness: Sure, J. Verlander gave Wastey a great start, but Z. Greinke ate shit (with no L) and L. Lynn has yet to play… and the aforementioned Hader is not even worth 1 whole point (.8) as of three appearances. I like my odds with M. Clevenger still in my pocket and G. Cole putting up a start tonight. Both he and Verlander tango with the league lead in strikeouts. It could be another down to the wire finish.

So far my offensive strategy I gambled on last week got me pretty frustrated and I cut loose my Rockies left infield (N. Arenado to WAIVERS) and shuffled some players around. One of my original draft picks came back to the starting lineup in A. Benantendi. So far that has been good, with one limited exception in José Ramírez’s unamusing 5K start to the week. Sigh he’s got +4 fantasy points before he’s back at fucking: ZERO. WTH dude? See how I didn’t abbreviate your name…? I’ve called out your full name like mom used to in order to inform you that YOU ARE IN BIG TROUBLE, MISTER! Shape it up or you’re just so grounded!

It’s a close game as of this moment on Friday evening. Let’s see if after two starters tonight I can close that gap… More numbers coming in the rest of the week, and I’m looking forward to all of it!

 

Face Wasted

I’m pulling ahead of FaceWaster, but not after tomorrow… he has his starting pitchers going and that will be the real test. I need to establish enough of a lead to overcome his Verlander, Shcerzer and Greinke. Shcerzer is on paternity leave until Saturday, so no double start possible. I get a double start out of Minor but we will see if he has any mojo left after that 9 inning miracle. Personally, Scherzer is due for a meltdown and Greinke hasn’t been terrible (or fantastic) for months. I don’t know how the future will unfold, but my viability will be clearer as of tomorrow.

I’ts a marginal lead at that. I need some more magic. I did hand my opponent Pittsburgh’s Bell and he promptly raked in 3 HR for my opponent, He’s at moer than 44 FPs on Thursday blog… on fucking Thursday. There’s still a lot of baseball to be played, and all I can hope for is a random alligator attack. I find myself looking closely at voodoo curses and other forms of divine intervention.

 

Still a lomg way to go in this round, but I imagine I’ll be screaming illogically at some point tomorrow afternoon.

 

 

Yesterday’s Flapjacks

I keep finding things I regret in my scoring:

.3 per put out is way too much. This makes 1B the most valuable position player in the game

1.25 per batter DPT is too much. Nerfed.

-.6 per K for batters is not harsh enough. Strikeouts are a sin against the Baseball gods.

.75 per IP is not enough. Pitchers don’t compare with position players. Also 1 per APP is not juicy enough either.

These are just some examples. I want balance damnit! No position should be preferable. Just like in my FFL leagues; rosters are based on previewed talent assessments not scoring advantages.

But why batter defensive plays? I do believe they should be rewarded because its incremental accomplishments that plug on both aspects of position player stats. It’s boring to only care when they’re at the plate. However, I needed my numbers to still promote balance despite the events piling up for certain players. So, I diminished some and buffed others.

Batting & Fielding

Runs 0.75

Singles 1.25

Doubles 2.5

Triples 4.5

Home Runs 5

Runs Batted In 1

Stolen Bases 2

Caught Stealing -1.5

Walks 0.5

Strikeouts -1

Put Outs 0.08

Assists 0.12

Errors -3

Outfield Assists 4.25

Double Plays Turned 0.8

Pitching Scoring Categories

Pitching Appearances 2

Outs Recorded ( 1/3 IP) 1

Wins 8

Losses -5

Saves 8

Hits -0.35

Earned Runs -1

Home Runs -2

Walks -0.15

Strikeouts 1

Balks -2

Grounded Into Double Plays 1.5

Holds 4

Pickoffs 4

Blown Saves -6

Still stayed true to my beliefs and edged true offensive achievement over big piles of defensive stats. Now increments break ties and keep my scoreboard popping with green no matter who is on the field. I feel like this configuration sticks in my happy zone.

Welcome to Whammy Slammy Susan III!!

First week saw my landslide victory over hopeless Bangle-Doof. Poor bastard lost by 103. My scoring was an overall nerf compared to WSS2 scoring. I like that.

The standings are a three way tie for first with DerpyDerpDerp leading in points. I climbed up from third to second. This week I get FaceWaster V, which has been bad news for me. His pitchers come through when I’m in the reticle. We shall see if he stays lucky.

In other news, I’m doing alright. Dad has been ailing lately. I remain aloof thinking that I have no clue what to expect but aware trajedeybmay be very near. “A,” who I will henceforth refer to as Critter, and I are doing very well. It’s more than three weeks in and things are still clicking. Discovery is happening and we are enjoying our time together. She’s curious about me which I find totally intoxicating.

The sex is unbelievable. I’ve never been more in tune with anyone before. We are dialing in on our comforts, and finding the ways we fit well together. I do light her up, and feel so very appreciated for the way we are together. She does EVERYTHING Blog. Dang yo.

My dreams have been confusing and I know there is some lingering part of me that remains unreconciled post Cheyenne. I don’t know what to do with that. Maybe it’s safe to be a friend now that I’m in a sexual relationship, but maybe because of my past attraction to her that’s not a good idea. I don’t like the way it all happened, but there has only been uneasy silence when it comes to the beat and not the appetizers. I broke it and now I’m trying to super glue it back together. It’s probably a waste of time, but I never like hurting people and just walking away.

I think about the future. Critter and I are thinking about the road ahead. So many more steps to make before logic agrees with emotion. She’s an investment I’m glad to make though. She tolerates my nonsense like a pro. Keeper status earned.

Have a great week Blogomites!

Splatty Susan

I’m about to “secure” a third straight defeat in my FMLB league. More than 100 point margin in this: a fantastic humiliation taking my league rank from first to third. Sigh.

Wholesale roster changes commencing. The injury bug has DECIMATED my team. No other roster has been hampered by injury. None. If anyone has a goat they wouldn’t mind letting me “borrow” so I can make an offering to Jobu please let me know. And for the record: I DID NOT STEAL JOBU’S RUM!!

Alas, a new week begins and another chance to get right. Hopefully.

In the rest of my world I went through some dad drama. He seems like he’s doing the best he can to make his slow decline unabashedly miserable for my mom. I’m not present enough to help ease the burden but I do need to earn a living. I’m torn in this capacity as son and man. I can’t propel independence without betraying my foundation. I resent my dad and his hedonistic way of living out his final days. He doesn’t care who he hurts as long as he gets to feel good all the way to the end. It’s grotesque and selfish.

In my secret life, “A” and I are thriving. I’ve troubled her with my symptoms lately and I feel bad about that, but I’m also a human so it seems unavoidable. She has her own life to sort through. Bullying ex. Distant family. She calls me by my first name.

I sympathize with our current plights but see a stable future out there somewhere, and not too far from here as well. I get scared but remind myself of the steps it took me to get where I am. Nothing worth having is achieved without struggle.

I’ve been having strange dreams that border on nightmares. I’ve also been having astoundingly good sex for the first time in many years. There’s a stability here in this dynamic that I’ve been missing. I’m glad to have it. Ow that shit in my family and beyond has hit the fan. So many variables. My antipsychotic is not cutting it at my current dose. I need to talk to my doctor again. Self care.

I’m going to bite my pillow for a while. Bye.

7-3

I looks like pathetic, floundering Bangle-Doof at 1-7 is going to pull off the upset. I’m dismayed.

    A. McCutchen tore his ACL on my first game day. Total column points of .25
    M. Brantley went to DH most of the time which nets no fielding stats.
    M. Osuna imploded and blew a save
    A. Chapman imploded and blew a save
    B. Snell also forgot he had arms on his first start of the week (but rebounded in the second).
    I had one pitching win in 4 starts

The margin is close to 40 as today’s final scoring window draws to a close. I see very few chances for redemption but it’s not out of the question. My win streak comes to an end most likely against crap crappy crap town USA. Booooo. BOOOOOOOO!

I will be making some thoughtful waiver moves. L. Giolito payed out nearly 40 by himself this game week which I was happy about. J. Bell was also a great pick up. I’ll be thinking long and hard about how to defeat FaceWaster V.

Slammed

Derpy is being crushed into the mud as I have a more that 100 point lead with two days to play. This is the sort of thing I needed: a resounding blow to an irritatingly lucky team. The record of five straight Derpy wins will be smashed if this score holds up.

Big performers: C. Bellinger came on strong from his previous two week lull. J. Abreu was a good utility sub that paid off. My catcher Y. Grandal is absolutely raking right now. I mean, for a catcher, he’s killing it. Home runs every day for most of the roster, multiple times per day. T. Story and F. Lindor have also been putting up power numbers at SS. I’m getting a taste of what this roster can do when most of the guys are hot. It’s quite nice.

Still a way to go yet before a final. I still have 2 starting pitchers going Sunday for the second time this game week (Z. Greinke & G. Cole). The projector buddy thinks 450+ is within reason. However, I don’t trust that stupid fucking thing. It’s rarely correct, and auto adjusts itself as reality sets in. What’s the point of a projection if it is wrong until actual data comes along so it can make itself right? That’s just nonsense.

I’m going to keep wearing the same socks and won’t wash my left hand until the score goes final Sunday night. With any luck, the baseball gods will smile upon their humble supplicant. Or smite me. Both are possible.

Slammytown

The good news just keeps rolling in with my FMLB franchise. The scoring up to today has been way better than in previous weeks, and I’m still taking in scoring events tonight.

Home runs have been plentiful as well as a high water mark for outfield assists. I do relish the extraordinary.

Pitching has been better than expected for sure. I’ve been penalized by picking the wrong starter, and my instinct to bench C. Paddak was a good one. He got devoured in NY.

I’m headed for a score over 400 for the first time since week one. Yeah boss. I just hope I still win. Derpy has been a bastard in the past.

Whammy Crammy Crunch

The final day of scoring and for the fucking THIRD WEEK IN A ROW it’s going too come down to the final day to determine a winner. I was fortunate that R. Osuna notched a W after blowing the save in the top half of the ninth. Mercy of the sports gods shown down on my nation.

Now though, it’s a 30 point margin which, experience has taught me, can be gobbled in an instant. Daily game scores can vary wildly depending on circumstance. We both have our aces going today as well, which facing Verlander is always an upsetting prospect. He’s pitching at home too and Paddak is on the road…

Well, I’ll be monitoring the fading heartbeat of my once proud dynasty as it struggles to fend off FaceWaster V. Best pitching staff of all the teams by far, and mine one of the worst. It would take an unlikely series of events to bend the thing my way, but I’m hopeful that my tenuous lead will be enough of a cushion if my own players do well.

Results will be flooding in all morning/early afternoon. I do love the Sunday day-game schedule. It’s always nice to know my fate before 10:00 pm PST. I don’t much like waking up to finding I have been crushed into oblivion or JUST BARELY defeated in the championship by 1.5 FPs. Sigh, I’m not ever going to let that one go. So close.

If I win today, I’m in a good position to make a run at the leaderboard. The real issue remains: can anyone outscore DerpyDerpDerp? What a fucking juggernaut! It’s over 400 again this week….

 

Update: ARG!! Paddak scratched with a stiff neck… Fuck didilly uck. Now that 30 point bubble is gone with Verlander on the opposing mound. This will be a foot-race to the finish line with position players as the deciding factor. Yikes. Just a tad more suspenseful than I was hoping for…

Another Close Slammitch

One more day of scoring and FaceWaster V is running side by side. Currently I lead by 14 but that is still very much at play.

I find nights start off slow, and then big plays either pop or don’t through the sort of cushy prine-time zone of potential. Mid inning rhythm. I feel like I have still a huge amount to learn still about this. I’m out of the daily game and starting to concern myself with the immediacy of managing a season long team. I keep making terrible waiver moves. B. Buxton was an utter bust. G. Cole imploded. What the fuck happened to my strikeouts?

Paddak has been a bright spot AAAANNNND he gets a second start tomorrow. He could only help my cause and was a a primary reason for my success so far this week.

Still much to be decided, and the gap is narrowing…

Slammy Susan Update

Hoping to be saved from the pit of irrelevance, I had all my eggs riding on this week’s matchup with last place Bangle-Doof. As the innings fade here on the final evening of scoring, things are looking solidly W. I was saved by a somewhat less effective C. Sale on a second start as the Astros knocked him around a bit. His T. Bauer failed miserably as did my gamble on C. Paddak. I nearly lost it because of my bad waiver moves.

This next week I’m taking a flyer on B. Buxton. I think Minnesota is due for some run. They’re pretty scrappy and that’s what I look for as a metric. Hard to quantify but not hard to see when players either have the stuff or don’t. Often times I find my instincts on picking in this way are less than accurate. Carpet bombing draws a familiar parallel to my methodology up to this point. I feel like I’m getting better at recognizing trends. When teams get hot, they hit better, and that sliding percentage improves depending on the batting order, venue and so on. It’s a lot like football, but that stats go three levels deeper. They have sub metrics for damn near every aspect of gameplay. The Yahoo! league editor only lets you carry 15 statistical categories between batting and pitching, but there are twice as many choices of things to track. The data scrutiny is not a thing I have yet come to terms with. The guys who make money at daily fantasy know who to pick, on what day, and why it is a high percentage pick. Even down to the history of the individual batter’s past plate appearances versus the starting pitcher for the day… the comparisons allow for a super-informed perspective if one has the willingness to comprehend the data set in its entirety.

I am finding I continue to tune my focus; I’m working on understanding the various comparisons that might be of value. I experiment with risks in this somewhat prideless forum. Though, I am unhappy that DerpyDerpDerp is RUNNING AWAY with 1st place and has yet to be defeated. This unbelievably fortunate team is raking in several relevant offensive categories like HR, R and RBI as well as earned strikeouts for pitchers. It’s gross that I didn’t even think that team was relevant, giving in the preseason 3 of 4 ranking. Third place team, trashing me like yesterday’s pancakes.

 

Well my RP F. Vasquez just got a save to put me in the running for 1st place in terms of overall score. Not bad considering I was on the verge of losing 3 in a row. Yikes.

 

 

Slammy Update

Week is coming to a close. Right down to the fucking wire again. Last week I lost by 5. This week I trail by 4 leading into the last capful of remaining innings. I got two outfield assists which is double what I got the whole week before. 8/32 at this moment which is a shit average. Arenado is 0-for three. Sad if I lose by less than ten again. It’s quite possible.

The scoring system is really good. Very compelling and numbers are coming in all the time. Many blinks. Lots of data to scrutinize. I’m able to tune in and out easily with all the steady income of action. I’m enjoying this experiment, even if I can’t field a winning team.

Final Week Of Whammy Slammy Suzan 1

It was a W for Slammy Jammy (3-0), but revealed the great disparity in my scoring system. I found a balance to make pitchers volatile and position players incremental, with some initial failures to understand what that looked like day-by-day. Now that I have a few game weeks completed, I can see what stats should be recorded to achieve the level of complex fun I desire in a FMLB league. Now, I am starting Whammy Slammy Susan 2, and it is HUGE. The scoring is competitive, the games are popcorn fun with stats coming in all the time. It’s the balance I envisioned initially made real through practical experience. The stats I track make defense and offensive balance the paramount value in position players, but consistency in pitching will make or break you. Overall, lots of good.

The scoring has been intense so far. Balanced. Competitive. Just the thing I was hoping for. I may make changes next year but this is really great.

So far so good for my team. Anything is possible.

Week 3 and Other Notes

MH wise: things have been consistent… unperturbed. Maybe resilience is a part of that, though patience is something I’m learning. The aforementioned boof of week 3 (and all of the self-created panic) did not torn out to be that at all. In fact, with a downright PITIFUL contribution from my pitching staff, I still won on the hammering HR pounding shenanigans that ensue when you have a few of the league’s top 5 in the starting lineup. I won by more than 50 points. Bellinger is the (my) best player in my league. Yelich right behind him. Bellinger is in an OF slot because F. Freeman is at 1st base. The left infield is the Rockies (Arenado, Story) and the Braves on the right (Freeman, Albies). Harper, Bellinger, Haniger and Ozuna in the OF. Contreras behind the dish. It’s a deadly lineup.

Ultimately, the team serves a good model for ideal position play, and the intent of having the draft be random was to add that extra element of having to guess that Fantasy Sports is all about. I had to look at those four rosters it generated and snap up the one that I thought was going to win. I ranked them, post draft, A through D. I don’t know a ton about Major League Baseball, but I guessed which lineup had the most promise. Really since the draft, there hasn’t been much lineup change either. Each team gets two moves a week, and injury has been the real decide of roster changes. I did add the degree of difficulty upgrade with only 1 day a week when lineups unlock. That sucks when Snell breaks his foot in the fucking shower on the day he’s scheduled to pitch.

 

Now begins the Whammy Slammy Susan 2 FMBL LEAGUE ERA!!!! YAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!

 

The configuration I have now I’m very pleased with. Position players are a trickle trickle and pitchers go boom boom or bust bust. It’s a balancing act, with highs and lows aplenty. Defensive and offensive contributions are a great way to have players just STREAMING stats all the time, for hours of the day. Just boom boom new stat comes in. Then another over here… the board just keeps pinging little green boxes like a private fireworks show. Blinkity blink my little friends! So incremental stats, and then bursts from good pitching. I have turned over some of the pitching lineups of the other teams to cut out the underperformers and add better, more consistent options. My own staff has been devastated by injury, and recent waffle-like performance of G. Cole. 8 fucking earned runs? Really? Did your arm get chopped off between games?

I am scoring tonight! 4:00 pm is fun hour in my house! Yay! So excite.

FMLB Week 3 Begins With A Boof

Very bad start to my week as the injury bug is slamming me Susan like $5 flapjacks. Man, Clevenger, now Snell is gone leaving a huge hole in my rotation. I lost Bellinger to a foot injury, Mondesi isn’t even starting tonight… I mean fuck! What happened to Bryce Fucking Harper? I’m also trying to guess if I missed out on Flaherty getting hot for Corbin instead. I could be fucked.

The scores are relatively close, but against any other team I’d be demolished. I have negatives in to roster slots after 2 days of action. Out of 7. Sigh.

Been down this road before, but it does bite a bit to be in line to lose to FaceMaster V. I’m never going to hear the fucking end of it. He’s intolerable enough as he is. Even if he’s 0-for-the-next-whatever, he’s lording this over me until the end of time regardless. I’d like for there to be some realization that I have a stacked team full of players that could, at the drop of a hat, break out for 50+. My starters are valuable but will be depleted after losing two of my best this week. Snell dropped something heavy on his toe… like a big pole made of granite or some shit. I’m looking at that 10-day DL tag going “yeah fucking right, he’s going on the 60-day DL after the x-rays come back. I’m going to find a way to play the waivers, like I have in the past. I’m not nearly as effective at the baseball waiver scene as I was with the NFL. My player knowledge is still growing.

****

Update: Arenado, Ozuna hit HR with peeps on the pillows. 3 DPT. Contreras at -3.75. I mean fuck. 2 K, 1 GIDP. Fucking catchers. It’s like the NFL TE roster spot of the FMLB universe.

First Glance: FMLB Week 1

This is my first season with FMLB and I must say it is hugely gratifying. To have numbers coming in all day long, days and days in a row, is insane. I remember the angst of having to wait until Thursday, Sunday or Monday to get the game-face on and start assessing my outcomes. In this format, outcomes are fluid. I sometimes think I’m being roasted alive, and at other moments, I’m rocketing away with high-scoring events. Both mediums present challenges for my patience, but they have entertained to a significant degree, and much more than I was expecting at the onset.

Some of the things I noticed based on the scoring system I set up: rewards and punishments are harsh. If the player is having an off day, it can be crippling. Alternatively, if your player is 2/3 with 2 HR and 4 RBI, you’re in a good way going forward. Mistakes are not wrist slaps but face-hammers… which can be hard to deal with but at the same time it raises the stakes and makes things more volatile. Injuries are terrible. In Rotisserie, I’ve determined that the midpoint Monday is roster-shift day in the set game week (Maybe true of the first week only since it is longer), but if your guy goes down, he’s locked on the roster card for many more days of zero.

So far my hot hot picks for my primary team include Oakland’s closer Treinen, Alberto Mondesi and Cody Bellinger. Flops include Zack Greinke, Nolan Arenado and Marcell Ozuna. The latter of which has yet to post a positive integer game-week total.

Really though, this is a way I am taking care of myself. I’m not dependent on others to have fun (since no one is into what I like to do) and I enjoy making my own games and stakes. I can’t count on anyone to take care of my needs or wants… it is entirely up to me. As it should be frankly. I’m tired of this war with others where I’m inevitably let down by waning interest or changing circumstance. This time, the fun is all mine.

Stargazer

Streak burning green across the stars,

Puffy warm breaths at Jupiter and Mars,

Frozen cheeks stare in awestruck wonderment,

At surprises revealed by atmospheric turbulence,

Holding hands tight beneath the warm blankets,

Sky polished and bright for the great royal banquet,

Beneath the black cloak eyes ache for sleep,

For this fanciful dream he will always keep.

Revised: Fantasy Baseball Scoring PERFECTED(?)

I was reading over my last post and I didn’t like the way the roster was breaking down into relevant and irrelevant levels of worth/value. Nearly every roster spot should have ways of achieving success based on a focused study of statistical output.

With that in mind, I went after trying to understand how the points were being accumulated, and how my weights were amplifying/deflating some values over others. I decided on a core format style which I feel would make for the best type of gameplay: steady accumulation with rare bursts of point gain interspersed. This likely leads to close games decided decisively (on one scoring event) or juggernauts demolishing their foes as they “go off” for big points. Steady accumulation on events like walks, singles, strikeouts (pitchers), assists, RBI or runs scored keep things close, hopefully, allowing for talented drafters to show how they set their lineups well in anticipation of big games for a given player. Only 7 bench slots means you can’t keep one of every position player on your bench for replacement, you will be FORCED to play the wire, like all good owners should if they expect to do well.

So, after some tweaking, I came up with a scoring set I like. I added Innings Pitched (.1 rounded down, .2 rounded up) as a trickle stat for pitchers that makes them better producers on a consistent basis. I changed the value of some of the offensive stats to neuter the distance between them and pitchers. The result is a dog that won’t impregnate any other dogs ever again.

 

 

So, the output of this needed to be judged somehow with actual data, which I provided the scorecard long before I began tweaking values. I have included my sample line up card here so we can look together and see how the values are expressed as fantasy points. Please note, this data is the ASB benchmark I have mentioned in other posts. The idea here is to highlight a “best case scenario” data-set to judge how high, potentially, the ceiling of exclusivity can go. On a game-to-game basis, this is going to be a more interesting thing to see. Looking towards a high point of 7,000+ fantasy points of season accumulation, and an unknown number of games in which to disperse them. I am THAT unfamiliar with the format that right now, I don’t know how long a MLB fantasy season is, or how frequently “games” occur as daily would be impossible. I can imagine daily maintenance being necessary, but having as many match-ups as there are games is a nauseating thought.

 

In my first post I talked about my points of emphasis in the game itself, and among the values that have endured to arrive at the final cut is Pickoffs. A rare but consequential event, the point value of which is devastating. 12 points for this event is the most heavily weighted event I score in this league template. Why? Because it’s a tease. Like picking a really good punt/kickoff returner in the NFL, you’re hoping your lousy pitcher redeems himself because his Pickoff move is phenomenal. Will he reward you with an unprecedented point total, or will he leave you starved for an event that, at best occurs less than 20 times a year for the league leaders? If he goes off, your cushy seat to victory is more likely than it was a minute ago, but your bet is on the rare event, or the steady churning motion of a consistent, winning pitcher with no rad move to first.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I have achieved a balance that now seems both competitive and enjoyable. It is the best I have achieved in my limited experimentation with the format, and really brings an element of uncertainty to drafting. I also foresee players making (nearly) irrelevant contributions due to lousy performances being more harsh than in the NFL. A zero is never ever wanted, but expected from time to time, but maybe in this league three days of .25 fantasy points might be just as terrible, if not worse.

Maybe one day I will know.  It’s a fun to think about.

UPDATE: Mid-Afternoon

For the sake of comparisons, I ran a simulation based on an actual head-to-head matchup, which in the regular season collect data over 7 days or so. I wanted to see what a high-output production would look like, which would be an approximation of having a “good week.” See below, though this is an unlikely final lineup, it is a possible one, and definitely a Cubs fan.

Looking over the 7 day output, I can see now that with 18 roster slots, some of those position players are bound to crater, while one or two others rocket up. These scores remind me of the FNFL scale which goes something like this:

0 – 5 = Wretched
6 – 10 = Minimal
11 – 15 = Average
16 – 20 = Above Average
21 + = Exceptional

We had a “200” barrier in my Detail Oriented league a few years ago… whoever gets there first is almost certain to win. That seems accurate as reflected here, but the flexibility of upward expansion for some of the roster slots seems outstanding. I like the way this looks, but also recognize how vital fielding the right players is, and making sure your roster is up to date. The restricted bench makes for a more competitive free-agent market, inciting wire competition.

FF Thoughts: Balanced Scoring Theory

It has been my experience in designing fantasy scoring systems for the NFL that the weight of every statistical category must be appraised in respect to the total items being scored, roster positions available and some form of biased incentive.

It can be said, as a baseline, common events should not be comparable in worth to rare events. It is this weighting that defines the terms of competition, and an aspect I particularly relish. I have beliefs about what aspects of a given sport are more difficult to achieve versus things that should occur and do occur regularly/often. What I cultivate in participants is a similar respect for the remarkable and an interpretive invitation to strategize.

As I develop my thoughts on how to apply my prior FNFL experience to the FMLB format, I intend to be true to my signature preferences and unique interpretation of the sport (s). MLB tends to be more statistically dependent (developed) and maybe even drowning in an excess of interpretations and comparisons. I hope to cut through the bullshit and boil my league rules down to the essential, and the remarkable. The mundane have been exiled!

Scoring: Two Factors

Weighted Scoring Categories

I use a combination of elements to determine what value to assign things: (commonality/frequency + subjective difficulty + game-flow based significance = relative weighted value). Through this, you should begin to see my perturbed view of the sport, and what makes it interesting.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Some of my preferences become apparent with how harshly things are penalized, or how they are rewarded. Based on an ideal set of player’s 2018 All-Star Break statistics (relative mid-marker), the draft will see offensive players going first, but relief pitchers among the second wave. See below for the impact on how the team should be built in terms of available point scoring potential.

Difficult plays and stats that are hard to earn are weighted, but more heavily towards the remarkable. Outfield Assists for example, as I have stated in previous posts, are pretty fucking awesome. Clearly there are more points to be scored as an offensive player, but that seems to follow logic in terms of actual gameplay. Still, I see that, if there was to be a draft, I could see multiple strategies towards some desired stat-cultivation effort to specifically target a course towards relevance, and the postseason. Plays that cause outs, or kill rallies, or erase runs are dealt with harshly.

 

 

Roster Positions – Team Size

Depending on what is being scored/weighted, the roster needs to reflect a discipline to balance, and an incentive for a diverse live draft by fairly distributing point-earning opportunities across positions. As you can probably tell from the scoring table listed above, there are some positions on the lineup card that are going to be, generally, better contributors than others. The roster below is ordered in terms of fantasy point scoring weight/ideal projected point output potential (Great, High, Average, Low-ish

1B
2B
SS
3B
OF1
OF2
OF3
OF4
RP1
RP2
RP3
SP1
SP2
SP3
SP4
SP5
C1
C2
______
(18)

There would be 7 bench slots, rounding out the active roster at 25. There’s a certain nostalgic symbolism I wish to also encapsulate, (see the 5 man rotation, the 7th, setup and closer slots). I feel like there are 4 starting outfielders on every Major League team as a baseline based on logic, and the nature of the positions. I did not feel it necessary to be specific about the outfield positions as this level of specificity doesn’t add to the fun and makes drafting arduous because of the constraining requirements of the roster slot. In my build, OF gets to be more useful, potentially, based on a freedom to load RF or CF or whatever your preference.

C has become like FNFL TE to me now. Hit or miss, boom or bust, this roster slot looks like the one that will inevitably fuck me somehow. C rates low, even with All-Stars driving the stats, but they seem like to do so in bursts rather than consistently. Plus, this is another roster position that is most-likely to have a savvy backup on real MLB rosters.

I foresee infielders (with the exception of C1/2) being hard to find after some trends have been established. I have often wondered about free-agency and waiver pickups in FMLB. Maybe this will be something I learn about later, or maybe not at all. 

Well, I think this league would be fun, but this will never happen, more than likely. Good things to think about though, and that’s really all I’m trying to do. I just want something to feel good about, and excited I guess. Things have been really hard lately, and my energy is running dangerously low. I’m going to need help soon, and this little exercise has been one of my coping activities to help myself think about something positive and fun while also innocuous. Thank you.

Goodbye’s Hello

1.

Magnetic sunrise,

Purples shining in reds,

Twisted sinews in roasted heat,

Delicate wet petals,

Fragrant mystery,

Deluded in flavor,

Fueled in hate.

Blasted bits scatter.

2.

Green canopies over,

Soft inviting eyes,

House of dreams,

Sparkling nights.

Fire-bright.

Disturbed underneath,

Cancerous rot–

Melting surfaces,

Forged, bludgeoned, ruined.

3.

Boundless joy–

Rising to days,

Adventures teeming–

Jubilant.

Decaying.

Festering in disinterest,

Foiled by distance,

Dry pots,

Plagued roots,

No plant will grow.

4.

Benign but present,

A foundation–

Cracked and listing,

Imperiled by slope,

Decline’s passenger–

Walking free,

Escaping the abyss.

5.

Voices remind,

Burdens of reality–

Crushed to a deserved fate.

Still,

Within, an ember–

Glowing a feint promise,

A heat unextinguished,

Flared or dormant–

The fire remains.

The Hunter-Seeker

Those of you familiar with Frank Herbert’s Dune know this little contraption is usually death to the one it is trained on. I have come to this determination through a several-days long evidence collection effort. I know now that one of YOU out there have trained this thing on me. I am still looking for the pilot, but to no avail.

The Hunter-Seeker is following my posts closely (first at intervals of 10 minutes, then less and less). It has been narrowing down its response time, and I do believe it is nearby somewhere, lurking. Soon it will be within a few meters of me, at which point it will move at supersonic speed to inject me with a toxin that will render me into jelly. Unless…

This may be my last post ever, as the weapon of my demise is only a few moments away after this post goes live.

To whoever out there in the blogosphere desires me dead, please know that I may yet be able to defend myself from this thing, and if I do, I’m going to come looking for YOU. If you are a Harkonnen traitor hiding in my wall, time is running out. I’ve got my Fremen warriors right here and we are going to Voice your ass to smithereens.

Maybe more blog posts to come, maybe not. We shall see.

 

 

I’m no Paul Atraides, but still, apparently, worthy of assassination.

Paths

Snarly hues,

Grumbling recesses–

Fetid in the dark,

Deep grip–

Dug in roots,

Creeped in moss,

Stagnant, rotting.

A change of wind–

Dust of blooms,

Enticing ribbons flail,

Winding bright–

A chance of taste,

Distant, remaining.

Contrasting,

The old color young,

On yellow days.

A Story of Realm

This is inspired by the novel I am writing, Kingdom of Realm which is a high fantasy fiction epistolary narrative. Below was a piece I worked on in preparation to start writing the novel itself, to see something in my mind and be able to describe it for someone else to read and also understand. So I guess the point here is simply to entertain. If you find the little short story enjoyable, just know there’s more down the line.

 

~~~~~~

Story 4
By Sea

It was dawn on the calm and temperate waters of the Trader’s Bay. The Merciful’s Jeshan Shifter was crouched on a short platform projected over the port side of the ship. He was clasping a vein of Stream in his hand firmly, held over the deep ocean and the pulsing ribbon of light disappeared far underwater once it was outside of his fist. Atop the mast, the Bessan scouting in the Crow’s Nest was silent and watching the horizon through his hand lens. The sun’s light was beginning to fill the sky with an orange glow as the deck bell rang out one chime and a sailor yelled, “ahead full speed!”

 

The Jeshan held the Stream constantly while on duty and also used his Shifting to send a branch of it up the mast, within snapping range of the Bessan. This task alone required a fundamental commitment of mental energy, not to mention his additional responsibilities and requirements. The two Shifters fell into their morning duties and the Jeshan opened the water and pulled the ship through it with the power of the Stream. Soon, the sails were flush with a wind that was being empowered by the Bessan in the Nest and the vessel raced through the water of the Bay with unnatural quickness. The Jeshan, sprayed with hissing water as he parted the low swell to ease the passage of the bow, felt the Stream tugging on him to be released back to its natural place on the floor of the Bay. He had to keep his mind focused on holding it or else it would snap away and he would not be able to retrieve it again. If the Stream was to return to where it would normally be on the seafloor, it would be too far away to call back. The ship would need to return to shallower water under its own power so that the Stream could be retrieved. Aware of those things, the Jeshan continued concentrating and passed the wooden ship through the sea with haste as the Merciful patrolled on the open Bay.

 

Their ship was a member of the Blue Fleet, an extension of the Last Knights of Realm. They operated an elite peacekeeping armada on the middle and east Bay to stifle some of the flagrant criminality and piracy. Their home port is located at Naruna, but they also have well-established presences at Cheed, Greenwall Port and Teayl. It was essential for the land and sea to both be secure in the free and independent region of the Fold, as this too was a part of their Old Way. They and their seafaring counterparts in the south (the Royal Navy of Realm), patrol the waters of the Trader’s Bay and secure it from rampant danger.

 

The mast alarm of the Merciful rang out as the ship raced through the open sea. “Column of smoke, zero nine zero!” He shouted, pointing over the starboard side to the distant horizon with his hand lens. The Jeshan turned due east but saw nothing. Clearly scouting not being his strongest skill.

“Make your heading zero nine zero.” The Captain on the bridge said, and the ship turned. “Ahead flanking speed!”

 

The call went out and the Jeshan Shifter poured his energy into parting the waves for the ship to slide through smoothly to its target. The Bessan blasted the wind into the sails and accelerated the ship with a torrent of air. The Merciful raced across the Bay to the column of smoke with remarkable alacrity. Once their ship got close, they could see what remained of the burned passenger vessel slowly sinking into the sea. The Merciful slowed and began to rescue those already in the water. They took the crew and passengers they saved below deck as the stranded ship sank. The sailors confirmed they had been viciously attacked and boarded by a much smaller, faster ship which flew a black flag and may have had a Shifter helping them.

 

The sailors hurried about climbing the mast again and setting the rigging for fast travel. Men darted about on different jobs, all working to bring the ship to readiness. Having come to a complete stop to collect survivors from the attacked vessel, the Merciful turned itself about.

“Mast sighted bearing zero nine zero!” The Bessan signaled down from the Nest while holding the Stream.

“Bessan!” The Captain shouted from the deck. “Is that them?”

The Bessan in the Crow’s Nest could feel the Stream being tugged in the direction of the ship, but he could not see anything more. “That one probably has a Shifter on board!”

“Understood.” The Captain said. A Shifter at sea is a dangerous weapon, not to be abused.  “Let’s hunt these pirates down!” The Captain shouted, and his crew let out a hearty roar in agreement.

 

As the pirates sailed out into the open eastern ocean, the Merciful began her chase far to the west. The Blue Fleet vessel lurched forward, then gathered speed rapidly as the Shifters and crew labored. The Jeshan Shifter held the Stream firmly and concentrated as the crew unfurled the sails. He opened the path for the ship to be guided through with little resistance. The Bessan churned the wind fiercely as the wood groaned against the strain and the Merciful surged towards the horizon.

 

From the Crow’s Nest of the pirate ship, the lookouts spotted the Merciful coming up from the west and gaining speed rapidly. He sounded the alarm and men began to scramble about the deck of the ship readying themselves for potential combat. Some of the sailors took their bows and their quivers and lined up on the sides of the ship, igniting their torches; hoping to get a chance to set their enemy ablaze.

The pirate Captain looked wildly up at the sailor in the Nest. “Blue Fleet?”

The sailor nodded.

“Scum,” He grunted angrily to himself. “We’ll show these Knights how we do things in the Trader’s Bay! We will not run today men! It’s them, or us!” A great cheer went up amongst the crusty criminals. The pirate Jeshan Shifter turned their small vessel about and the men at the helm began to charge straight at the Merciful. The pirate Captain had a smile on his face which grew larger as the two ships settled into a collision course. He pulled his fancy Captain’s hat lower on his head and stared forward menacingly. The Jeshan could not bring the ship close to the same speed as the Merciful, but could ease its journey through the water while the wind carried it, and at least that was in their favor.

 

“They are charging us Captain!” A deckhand of the Merciful at the bow shouted.

“Good.” The Captain said confidently. “This should be over quickly.”

He looked up at the Crow’s Nest and shouted, “do they have a Shifter?”

“Yes,” the Bessan said. “One Jeshan. On the port side.”

“Okay then.” The Captain looked out across the deck with steel in his gaze. “All hands to battle positions, and ahead ramming speed! Prepare for starboard side attack! We turn on my orders! They have a Jeshan so men, be ready!”

 

The pirate Captain’s grin was changing to a snarl as the Merciful continued on a collision heading at ramming speed. He noticed the distance between the two ships was closing rapidly.  The pirate Captain then entertained the possibility that this might be his very last mistake at sea. I will break this man. He thought to himself in a bold sort of delusion.

He turned to face his crew and bellowed, “Notch your arrows sea rats and prepare to fire starboard side! Turn the ship to port on my signal! Let’s burn these fools! Ready the oil at the railing! Drench them in burning death!”

 

“Prepare yourself for what they may do Jeshan and react,” the Captain of the Merciful shouted. “Bessan, once we pull broadside, light them up. All hands brace! Hard to port!”

 

The Merciful broke from its ramming course and so did the pirate ship, just as they began to come perilously close to colliding. The Bessan in the Nest struck his flint and ignited some frayed paper as he huddled with the Stream in his hand. Both vessels turned and exposed their starboard flanks to each other for a few moments as he rapidly created a small fire in his palm. The Bessan stood up as the ships came broadside and channeled the raw power of his ethereal elemental mastery. The archers on the enemy ship fired a volley of arrows with perfect placement and timing, while they readied the hot oil to be launched on their next pass. The Bessan unleashed his fire into the space between the two ships in a violent, expanding blast wave. He cast forth a scalding arc of devouring death which incinerated the arrows in flight before they found their targets. The colossal burst of flames lashed the pirate ship, burning men on the rails, who were rendered to ash or fell overboard screaming. The oil ignited in the cauldrons and exploded in a devastating, concussive blast. The starboard deck of the pirate ship was gone and the hull had been breached below the waterline. Fire was spreading all over the ship as flung oil set the sails ablaze. Men were cast about in the blast, pulverized by splintered wood and many more had thrown themselves in the water to escape burning to death. The power of the ignited oil had blown the pirate Captain’s hat overboard, which he took as a bad sign.

 

The Jeshan on the pirate ship acted quickly and used his Shifting to splash water up and over the starboard side and the sails, but the damage was done. The ship did not sink immediately, but it could not escape and now drifted away from the Merciful helplessly. Its sails were little more than singed tatters and many of the crew were dead or no longer aboard. The opportunity to strike back was fading rapidly for the pirate Jeshan and with what he had left of his strength, he blasted the stern and rudder of the Merciful with a column of displaced water. The powerful concussion split the hull below the sealine and shattered the rudder and the Merciful pivoted away, wounded and hobbling.

 

The Merciful was rapidly taking on water in the lower stern hold as sailors ran up from below decks to deliver the news. “We have enough time to abandon ship sir” one of the deck crew said. The captain looked forward at the closing distance between his ship and the pirates’.

“How much time?” He said.

“Five minutes or less before the stern is underwater sir.”

“Ahead full.” The Captain leaned forward. “Move the ship to firing position. Jeshan, you snap that ship in two on my order.”

 

The indignant and crisped remaining crew of the pirate ship took to the stern of their crippled vessel and fired more arrows as the Merciful as their enemy coasted within range. The pirate Captain on the deck of his charred ship rallied his men to fight. “Stand with me and we will take that ship right now!” He screamed desperately, having become less inspiring since he lost his hat. The Captain truly had nothing left to lose as he shouted, “give them a volley men!” To what was left of his crew.  

 

“We are within range Captain!” The Bessan in the Nest shouted.

The Captain of the Merciful turned to the Jeshan on the port side of the ship, “do it!”

 

The Jeshan used his power to whip the Stream in his hand across the surface of the water like a white hot rope of raw energy which sizzled and hissed as it raced towards the pirate ship. The Stream collided with the hull, which disemboweled the ship in a ferocious blast that sent splintered wood fragments flying out in all directions. Water rapidly poured into the gaping chasm amidships and the pirate ship sank violently, folding into two sections.  Archers on the rapidly listing stern deck continued to fire on the Merciful, but soon fell into the sea along with the flotsam, unable to hold on. Within a matter of moments, the pirate vessel had vanished beneath the surface of the Trader’s Bay.

 

The Merciful itself listed heavily as the stern of the ship sank. The Jeshan worked quickly to mend the broken hull and repair the wood so the Merciful no longer took on water. They were disabled for the foreseeable future and it was going to take them many hours to empty the lower sections of the ship. They would have no rudder as they limped to port in Teayl because that was something even a Shifter could not repair at sea.

 

The Merciful rounded up the survivors who were swimming in the water where the pirate ship went down and shackled them below decks in the bow to be taken back to the port. They did not locate the pirate Shifter once the ship had sunk, but the Captain was confident the danger was over.  “All hands stand down,” he shouted, marveling at the fine hat his men had given him that they pulled out of the wreckage. “We sail for Teayl where these criminals will be brought to justice. You all performed admirably today. We are going to be rotating in new duties this afternoon until we empty the hold of seawater. Let’s work together and get ourselves ready to sail as soon as possible.”

 

The Jeshan used what was left of his stamina just to hold onto the Stream as his duty relief came in to take over and the crew of the ship started to form a line to pass buckets. He handed the Stream vein to the second Jeshan, who would assist in the removal of the water from the hold as well. The Bessan in the Crow’s Nest was also relieved of duty and would need to rest before he could render his Shifting again.  

As they came back to their quarters, the Jeshan looked out of his cabin window at the sun now climbing high into the sky and the midday hour nearly upon them. Just another day on the Trader’s Bay. He thought to himself.

Shameless Plug

My creative project has a home now, and a dedicated domain: http://kingdomofrealm.com

This is a high-fantasy narrative/epistolary 3 book epic, with the first content to be released this winter 2018.

Check out a teaser right here if this sounds like your sort of thing

Currently, a D&D game is the device that is moving the plot forward, and I’d say we’re about half way through the campaign, in terms of plot. Still so much more to go. 4 players, 1 session a week since late mid November 2017. Awesome.

Thanks, plug over.

 

Story 4: By Sea

It was dawn on the calm and temperate waters of the Trader’s Bay. The Merciful’s Jeshan Shifter was crouched on a short platform projected over the port side of the ship. He was clasping a vein of Stream in his hand firmly, held over the deep ocean and the vein disappeared far underwater once it was outside of his control. Atop the mast, the Bessan scouting in the Crow’s Nest was silent and watching the horizon through his hand lens. The sun’s light was beginning to fill the sky with an orange glow as the deck bell rang out one chime and a sailor yelled “Ahead full speed!”

 

The Jeshan held the Stream constantly while on duty and maintained a branch of it to grow up the mast, within range of the Bessan. This task alone required a fundamental commitment of mental energy, not to mention his additional responsibilities and requirements. The two Shifters fell into their morning duties and the Jeshan opened the water and pulled the ship through it with the power of the Stream. Soon, the sails were flush with a wind that was being empowered by the Bessan in the Nest and the vessel raced through the water of the Bay with unnatural quickness. The Jeshan, sprayed with hissing water as he parted the low swell to ease the passage of the bow, felt the Stream tugging on him to be released back to its natural place on the floor of the Bay. He had to keep his mind focused on holding it or else it would snap away and he would not be able to retrieve it again. If the Stream was to return to where it would normally be on the seafloor, it would be too far away to call back. The ship would need to return to shallower water under its own power so that the Stream could be grabbed again. Aware of those things, the Jeshan continued concentrating and passed the wooden ship through the sea with haste as the Merciful patrolled on the open Bay.

 

Their ship was a member of the Blue Fleet, an extension of the Last Knights of Realm. They operated an elite peacekeeping armada on the middle and east Bay to stifle some of the flagrant criminality and piracy. Their home port is located at Naruna, but they also have well-established presences at Cheed, Greenwall Port and Teayl. It was essential for the land and sea to both be secure in the free and independent region of the Fold, as this too was a part of their Old Way. They and their seafaring counterparts in the south (the Royal Navy of Realm), patrol the waters of the Trader’s Bay and secure it from rampant danger.

 

The mast alarm of the Merciful rang out as the ship raced through the open sea. “Column of smoke, zero nine zero!” He shouted, pointing over the starboard side to the distant horizon with his hand lens. The Jeshan turned due east but saw nothing. Clearly scouting not being his strongest skill.

“Make your heading zero nine zero.” The Captain on the bridge said, and the ship turned. “Ahead flanking speed!”

 

The call went out and the Jeshan Shifter poured his energy into parting the waves for the ship to slide through smoothly to its target. The Bessan blasted the wind into the sails and accelerated the ship with a torrent of air. The Merciful raced across the Bay to the column of smoke with remarkable alacrity. Once their ship got close, they could see what remained of the burned passenger vessel slowly sinking into the sea. The Merciful slowed and began to rescue those already in the water. They took the crew and passengers they saved below deck as the stranded ship sank. The sailors confirmed they had been viciously attacked and boarded by a much smaller, faster ship which flew a black flag and may have had a Shifter helping them.

 

The sailors hurried about climbing the mast again and setting the rigging for fast travel. Men darted about on different jobs, all working to bring the ship to readiness. Having come to a complete stop to collect survivors from the attacked vessel, the Merciful turned itself about.

“Mast sighted bearing zero nine zero!” The Bessan signaled down from the Nest while holding the Stream.

“Bessan!” The Captain shouted from the deck. “Is that them?”

The Bessan in the Crow’s Nest could feel the Stream being tugged in the direction of the ship, but he could not see anything more. “That one probably has a Shifter on board!”

“Understood.” The Captain said. A Shifter at sea is a dangerous weapon, not to be abused.  “Let’s hunt these pirates down!” The Captain shouted, and his crew let out a hearty roar in agreement.

 

As the pirates sailed out into the open eastern ocean, the Merciful began her chase. The Blue Fleet vessel lurched forward, then gathered speed rapidly as the Shifters and crew labored. The Jeshan Shifter held the Stream firmly and concentrated as the crew unfurled the sails. He opened the path for the ship to be guided through with little resistance. The Bessan churned the wind fiercely as the wood groaned against the strain and the Merciful surged towards the horizon.

 

From the Crow’s Nest of the pirate ship, the lookouts spotted the Merciful coming up from the west and gaining speed rapidly. He sounded the alarm and men began to scramble about the deck of the ship readying themselves for potential combat. Some of the sailors took their bows and their quivers and lined up on the sides of the ship, igniting their torches; hoping to get a chance to set their enemy ablaze.

The pirate Captain looked wildly up at the sailor in the Nest. “Blue Fleet?”

The sailor nodded.

“Scum,” He grunted angrily to himself. “We’ll show these Knights how we do things in the Trader’s Bay! We will not run today men! It’s them, or us!” A great cheer went up amongst the crusty criminals. The pirate Jeshan Shifter turned their small vessel about and the men at the helm began to charge straight at the Merciful. The pirate Captain had a smile on his face which grew larger as the two ships settled into headings would bring them hull to hull. He pulled his fancy Captain’s hat lower on his head and stared forward menacingly. The Jeshan could not bring the ship close to the same speed as the Merciful, but could ease its journey through the water while the wind carried it, and at least that was in their favor.

 

“They are charging us Captain!” A deckhand of the Merciful at the bow shouted.

“Good.” The Captain said confidently. “This should be over quickly.”

He looked up at the Crow’s Nest and shouted, “do they have a Shifter?”

“Yes,” the Bessan said. “One Jeshan. On the port side.”

“Okay then.” The Captain looked out across the deck with steel in his gaze. “All hands to battle positions, and ahead ramming speed! Prepare for starboard side attack! We turn on my orders! They have a Jeshan so men, be ready!”

 

The pirate Captain’s grin was changing to a snarl as the Merciful continued on a collision heading at ramming speed. He noticed the distance between the two ships was closing rapidly.  The pirate Captain then entertained the possibility that this might be his very last mistake at sea. I will break this man. He thought to himself in a bold sort of delusion.

He turned to face his crew and bellowed, “Notch your arrows sea rats and prepare to fire starboard side! Turn the ship to port on my signal! Let’s burn these fools! Ready the oil at the railing! Drench them in burning death!”

 

“Prepare yourself for what they may do Jeshan and react,” the Captain of the Merciful shouted. “Bessan, once we pull broadside, light them up. All hands brace! Hard to port!”

 

The Merciful broke from its ramming course and so did the pirate ship, just as they began to come perilously close to colliding. The Bessan in the Nest struck his flint and ignited some frayed paper as he huddled with the Stream in his hand. Both vessels turned and exposed their starboard flanks to each other for a few moments as he rapidly created a small fire in his palm. The Bessan stood up as the ships came broadside and channeled the raw power of his ethereal elemental mastery. The archers on the enemy ship fired a volley of arrows with perfect placement and timing, while they readied the hot oil to be launched on their next pass. The Bessan unleashed his fire into the air between the two ships at the same time in a violent, expanding blast wave. He cast forth a scalding arc of devouring death which incinerated the arrows before they found their targets. The colossal burst of flames lashed the pirate ship, burning men on the rails, who died instantly or fell overboard screaming. The oil ignited and exploded in a devastating, concussive blast. The starboard deck was gone and the hull had been breached. Fire was spreading all over the ship as flung oil set the sails ablaze. Men were cast about in the blast, pulverized by splintered wood and many more threw themselves in the water to escape burning to death. The power of the ignited oil had blown the pirate Captain’s hat overboard, which he took as a bad sign.

 

The Jeshan on the pirate ship acted quickly and splashed water up and over the starboard side and the sails, but the damage was done. The ship did not sink, but it could not escape and now coasted away from the Merciful helplessly. Its sails were little more than singed tatters and many of the crew were dead or no longer aboard. The opportunity to strike back was fading rapidly for the pirate Jeshan and with what he had left of his strength, he blasted the stern and rudder of the Merciful with a column of displaced water. The powerful blast split the hull below the sealine and shattered the rudder and the Merciful pivoted away, wounded and hobbling.

 

The ship was rapidly taking on water in the lower stern hold as sailors ran up from below decks to deliver the news. “We have enough time to abandon ship sir” one of the deck crew said. The captain looked forward at the closing distance between his ship and the pirates’.

“How much time?” He said.

“Five minutes or less before the stern is underwater sir.”

“Ahead full.” The Captain leaned forward. “Move to the ship to firing position. Jeshan, you snap that ship in two on my order.”

 

The indignant and crisped remaining crew of the pirate ship took to the stern of their crippled vessel and fired more arrows as the Merciful as their enemy coasted within range. The pirate Captain on the deck of his charred ship rallied his men to fight. “Stand with me and we will take that ship right now!” He screamed desperately, having become less inspiring since he lost his hat. The Captain truly had nothing left to lose as he shouted, “give them a volley men!” To what was left of his crew.

 

“We are within range Captain!” The Bessan in the Nest shouted.

The Captain of the Merciful turned to the Jeshan on the port side of the ship, “do it!”

 

The Jeshan used his power to whip the Stream in his hand across the surface of the water like a white hot rope of raw energy which sizzled and hissed as it raced towards the pirate ship. The Stream collided with the hull, which disemboweled the ship in a ferocious blast that sent splintered wood fragments flying out in all directions. Water rapidly poured into the gaping chasm amidships and it sank violently, folding into two sections.  Archers on the rapidly listing stern deck continued to fire on the Merciful, but soon fell into the sea, unable to hold on. Within a matter of moments, the pirate vessel had vanished beneath the surface of the Trader’s Bay.

 

The Merciful itself listed heavily as the stern of the ship sank. The Jeshan worked quickly to mend the broken hull and repair the wood so the Merciful no longer took on water. They were disabled for the foreseeable future and it was going to take them many hours to empty the lower sections of the ship. They would have no rudder as they limped to port in Teayl because that was something even a Shifter could not repair at sea.

 

The Merciful rounded up the survivors who were swimming in the water where the pirate ship went down and shackled them below decks in the bow to be taken back to the port. They did not locate the pirate Shifter once the ship had sunk, but the Captain was confident the danger was over.  “All hands stand down,”  he shouted, marveling at the fine hat his men had given him that they pulled out of the wreckage. “We sail for Teayl where these criminals will be brought to justice. You all performed admirably today. We are going to be rotating in new duties this afternoon until we empty the hold of seawater. Let’s work together and get ourselves ready to sail as soon as possible.”

 

The Jeshan used what was left of his stamina just to hold onto the Stream as his duty relief came in to take over and the crew of the ship started to form a line to pass buckets. He handed the Stream vein to the second Jeshan, who would assist in the removal of the water from the hold as well. The Bessan in the Crow’s Nest was also relieved of duty and would need to rest before he could render his Shifting again.

 

As they came back to their quarters, the Jeshan looked out of his cabin window at the sun now climbing high into the sky and the midday hour nearly upon them. Just another day on the Trader’s Bay. He thought to himself.

Story 3: The Kindred of the North

Ra’Kesh, an older and grizzled Nomadic Barbarian, was taking the long road home after an unsuccessful hunting trip further to the south. He was hoping to chance upon something before arriving back home in the mountains as he trudged towards his stopping point for the night. Ra’Kesh was aware that the land  had emptied itself of life in the once fertile hunting grounds. There were no flying birds racing overhead anymore, no animals to pursue through the woods. The only residents now were poisonous creatures, beasts and the Brown Harpies that circled the dead as they lie rotting in the thin snow.

 

His trip to the south had disturbed and he’d seen very few game animals. He walked past many gutted carcasses, and fading bones. To him, his homeland felt  more desperate; in fear of not surviving the winter having held onto too little food. There was a panic in the air. Now the North was stripped bare of its resources. For a Barbarian warrior like Ra’Kesh, he knew that grim times were ahead for his people unless some of the other hunting parties that had gone out from the tribe had been more successful. Somehow, Ra’Kesh knew that they were having just as little luck finding food as he was. This land is more dangerous now than ever before. He thought to himself.

 

The lumbering Barbarian plowed forward through the deepening snow which was now only about as high as the midway point of his shin. He knew, however, that the snow would deepen as he made his way to the top of the valley.  Ra’Kesh was a skilled Nomadic Barbarian, and unlike the Humans that ventured through these lands, he had no fear. To him the North was his ally; his home. He was at peace with the outcomes of his life yet he was not ignorant to reality.

 

In Ra’Kesh’s mind, there is no fairness in his people being deprived of food for the cold season, but it was a fact of life in the North. It was hunt, or be hunted. Ra’Kesh did believe that his ancestors would not let their people die of starvation this winter, but he did not know how it would come to pass. He held his axe in one hand and his shield was over his shoulder as he continued to march forward through the narrowing valley. The snow fell densely as he gained altitude and the sun sank lower to the horizon.

 

One more night out here. He said to himself as he unpacked. Ra’Kesh made camp here many times before after much more fruitful trips south. Tonight, he had no meat to bring home and an aching belly of his own. He insulated himself with a little snow-structure to, hopefully, prevent much of his smell from escaping his camp area and trap warmth. He did not light a fire as this was a bold action to take when traveling alone and a way to bring on unnecessary attention. Instead, Ra’Kesh laid his rolled furrs out over an area he had cleared, revealing the cold frozen dirt beneath. He tore into some jerky as twilight neared an end.  The swirling stormclouds above were veiled in darkness by the onset of night.

 

Something had been following Ra’Kesh for a portion of his trip home from the hunting grounds. Earlier in the day, it had stalked while the Barbarian marched up the valley slowly. Its prey had been unaware of its presence in the woods not far off his pace. It had watched while the Barbarian took to the side of the valley and established a place to set up camp. Now, as dark had come on, the creature went from observing, to hunting.

 

The clouds overhead could be heard to whisper as they moved with the furious northern wind. Somewhere in the darkness above the valley, they roiled. The temperature plummeted and Ra’Kesh tried to rest. The cold was penetrating his thick skin, but he could still fall into sleep. Just before Ra’Kesh had fully relaxed, there was a sudden clap of thunder.

 

The creature approached from the north coming down at his camp from behind his pile of snow he had made around himself. This monster relied on many senses, formulated plans and weighed options. It waited in the shadows, slinking low, still many feet away. The creature could smell his stink clinging to his clothes and furrs.  The creature salivated, crouched, recoiled and sprung into action. It hurled itself through the air and onto the camp at astonishing speed and with near perfect silence. The creature being of such significant size that when it landed it created a massive plume and blasted frosty snow thrown out in all directions. It tore at the bundle of rags, but found no one in them. Much to its surprise, Ra’Kesh had somehow known it was coming.

 

It was only then that, to the great shambler, the conspiracy became apparent. The suddenly stormy sky above unleashed a blast of lightning upon the Abominable as it lurched in the clearing of the devastated camp. It was struck with white-hot energy as it stood to its full twenty-five feet. Scalded and screaming, it raised its fist and let out a roar that echoed across the valley. It spun about, looking for its enemies while its flesh crackled and crisped across its left flank and back.

 

Scarred from the startling shock of the lightning, the creature whirred about and spotted Ra’Kesh. The Barbarian had  run far out into the open valley, but then turned around to face the creature in a combat stance. The Abominable squared up on the Barbarian and pounded its fists into the ground, galloping to a raging charge with its mouth gaping wide.

 

Ra’Kesh set his feet, and calmly recoiled his axe back behind his shoulder. As the massive creature advanced, the Barbarian aimed carefully and waited. He stood his ground as the lumbering colossus bore down on him at a fatal speed. Ra’Kesh hurled the axe with deadly precision. The twirling hand axe sank deep into the Abominable’s face, shattering its eye. The wound rocked the creature and it frenzied in wild agony. It swiped forward with extraordinarily vicious rage as it fell to the ground and flailed its massive arm across the open valley floor. The Barbarian was broadsided where he stood and was cast into the air like a thrown doll, disappearing into the night. It cradled its injured face with the other hand as it tried to stand, fumbling about, disoriented and in writhing pain. The creature pawed angrily at the axe and knew it still had an enemy out there somewhere. It peered into the darkness with its good eye.

 

The Abominable huddled in the snow, screaming from its wounds and franticly searching about. Behind it in the forest, a tree was uprooted swiftly and was brought down hard on top of the Abominable with choking speed. Branches snapped over it’s body and the trunk squarely clobbered the creature over its head. The force of the impact flattened the monster into the ground, while the tree then slid down and pinned the Abominable to the earth. Stunned by the sudden brutality of the attack, it groaned and tried to get back up. The clouds opened and a new bolt of lightning came down from the sky. This one, however, was much more pinpoint than the previous in its accuracy and it struck the Abominable directly on the top of its head as it lie flat on the earth. The force of the lightning upon the Abominable’s skull was like a savage weighted hammer brought to bear on a pumpkin. The tree then fell naturally to the ground, and silence reestablished control of the valley once more.

 

From out of the shadow of the woods several hundred feet away, a Jeshan Shifter emerged from the forest and began to trudge across the valley floor over to where the Barbarian had been flung during the battle. As he walked closer, he discovered the Ra’Kesh had been impaled against sharp rocks to the side of the valley where he had landed. The broken fragments of his wooden shield still hung onto the straps around his arm, which was sprawled lifelessly beside his mangled body. The Jeshan removed his hood and met the Barbarian’s gaze.

“I’m sorry,” The Shifter said. The Barbarian looked back at him with tired eyes. They both understood.

“How long had it been hunting me?” The Barbarian asked.

“At least since yesterday,” the Shifter said. “It is dead.” The Barbarian looked up at the sky and saw no stars, but could feel the cold breath of the North stinging his cheeks as the last drippings of life escaped from his body. “You didn’t have to help me.” .

“Yes I did,” the Jeshan said in reply. “We are kin of the North together, and you would have done the same for me. We all must protect each other in these dark times.”  The Barbarian smiled a little at that. My hope is not fading after all. He  mused to himself as he grew more tired.

“So,” the Barbarian said gruffly. “I always knew I would meet a Shifter one day. Your kind our the link between our world and the world of my ancestors. You have the light of my kin in your eyes.” The Jeshan said.

The Jeshan smiled, “you Barbarians, wasting your last words to wax poetic.”

A long silence passed as they looked upon each other, and the snow fall thickened.

“Thank you,” his voice beginning to fade. “The ancestors saw you tonight.”

“Soon, you will be with them. Become one with the Stream.” The Jeshan then pulled a vein of Stream out of the woods, knelt beside the broken warrior and passed it over the Barbarian’s outstretched hand. “The Stream sees everything,”  he said softly. “Tonight, you dine with the greatest warriors of your tribe in the grand Hall of Bones. Feast, my friend, and rest well on a full belly. The days of battle are over for you. I will take the Abominable’s flesh  back to your people. They will not starve this winter. They will live because of your sacrifice. The creature could not have been defeated without you and you die with honor tonight.”

“By the light of the Stream be bound!” The Barbarian said his eyes charged with intention, despite those being the words spoken by the Shifters who graduate from Naruna, not of anyone who comes from the Frozen North. The Shifter smiled and passed his open palm over the eyes of the Barbarian.

“May it show us the way.” He said in formal reply, and with that, Ra’Kesh was dead.

 

The Jeshan took about the grueling duty of skinning, gutting, cleaning, and packing a great deal of abominable meat into several bags and carryalls that he had. He used Ra’Kesh’s furrs to pack more flesh and the snapped limbs of the tree he used to pummel the Abominable to make a large sled.

 

The Jeshan Master was true to his word and he carried a great deal of fresh meat back to the Barbarian’s tribe, walking all night and arriving early in the morning. They were a famished lot that had been waiting for its few warriors to return from the hunt. The Jeshan told them that one of them would not be coming back. “He gave his life so that you all could live.” He said aloud as the tribe listened. “Let me tell you of how he died in battle.”

 

The Jeshan spoke of how Ra’Kesh the Slayer had, attacked and defeated the Abominable, and then fed all his people with it’s flesh. Ra’Kesh was a skilled warrior, and a brave Nomadic Barbarian and the Jeshan described his axe flying through the air and impaling the creature in its eye. He made sure the stories they will tell of Ra’Kesh the Slayer will go on through the generations.

 

Though they cried that their father, husband and friend would not come home, he would never be forgotten in the tales the tribe will tell that would pass down from the parents to their children. Ultimately, the Barbarians understood that this was the way of the North, and that death comes for everyone, in time. There are many more who die then there are who live to do great deeds. Now these Barbarians had a warrior of their tribe who had done both. The Barbarians gave some meat to the Jeshan and he accepted gladly. He gathered his belongings and prepared to go, having shown his honor to the Stream and to the tribe.

 

“We are all here together,” the Jeshan said before them. “We must all remember that we are kin of the North, not just kin by our race, and that we must protect our land and each other so that life may go on as it always has. I have always been here. I will always be here, watching.” With that, the Jeshan vanished into the night, as the wind started to increase and the snowfall around their homes deepened.

Story 2: Terrorism

A group of four Jeshan Shifters crept along a south-facing wall of the City of Realm for a great distance, shuffling horizontally, hiding in the blind spot underneath the parapet. There was a common Stream vein usually very nearby which would have typically prevented this type of intrusion. However, the group had spent a long time earlier in the day, before making this journey, moving that vein away from the base of the wall slowly. They did this so that they could sneak by undetected now and they ensured their tampering would go unnoticed. It had taken them several hours, but now they just needed to avoid being physically sighted instead of detected by the Bessans along the City wall. They slid sideways for close to a mile until they found the hatch near the base of a perimeter tower. Once it was open, they quietly and quickly filed into the dark and cramped tunnels underneath the City. From inside, they closed the hatch and shuttered themselves into darkness. The group lined up single-file in the tunnel and sprinted for the dungeons of the Great Keep, several minutes away.

 

Shortly past the midday hour, the Bessan Shifter 18902 at south perimeter defenses reported a militia hiding in the trees firing arrows at the patrol guards on the south city wall. That section of the defenses has its border against the open wilderness of the land between the southern countryside  and the ocean. While beautiful, however, this area represents one of the most vulnerable potential entry points into the City of Realm.

 

The City Commander took the situation quite seriously and sounded the general alarm. Soon the bell tower of the Keep was ringing out the cry to take up arms or seek shelter. Soldiers began to pile out of their barracks and form up in the streets, marching towards the gates. The City of Realm readied itself for battle for the first time in many generations. People ran from the open marketplaces and common buildings to find shelter in their homes as the deep thunder of the bells echoed through the alleyways.

 

“You hear that mate?” One bandit  outside the wall said, nudging another. “Now we’ve really pissed them off!” A dozen skilled archers and twenty or so really terrible archers were, essentially, preoccupying the entire fighting force of the City of Realm as it pooled behind the south gate, pelting them with misguided and non lethal arrows. There were a smattering of no more than fifty deviant infantry guarding a Jeshan Shifter at the base of the outer fortifications. The Jeshan was not powerful enough to shatter the wall, but could sway it a fair bit. It wobbled and groaned under his influence. More men were hiding further back in the trees, waiting for an opportunity to rend the Realm’s poorly trained soldiers. The raiders were brutal fighters, and these cadets in their colored armor had only their numbers to hide behind. The Realm’s soldiers came pouring out of the gate and into the wood bordering the city wall, scattering into a defensive perimeter. Many more of them came rushing out and filled in behind with their swords glistening bright. A few hundred of them filled a large clearing around the entrance to the city and held their ground.

 

The Jeshan lashed the Stream like a white hot whip against the hard stone surface and had a largely visual effect, rather than actually causing much damage to the structure itself. He did make sure to give it a healthy shove to get the men on top of it fearing he could bring it down. The Shifter waited until the Realm’s soldiers had taken up defensive positions before using the power of the Stream to stick them all in knee-deep mud. A few hundred of them stood paralyzed, or fell over, unable to do anything to escape. Scores of them were butchered by a wave of arrows and more soldiers fell as the rain of projectiles thickened. A group of archers in the deep woods continued to fire at the stranded soldiers, while a few redirected their attention to the walls. The soldiers abandoned the perimeter, as they could not defend it from the Shifter without risking being shot by an archer. The men of Realm stayed away from the walkway where the raiders had range. “There must have been a hundred archers or more, all very well concealed.” Proclaimed the City Commander, disgusted with the turn of events. “Send more soldiers out through the south gate and dispense of the archers first. 500 men!” the Commander said. His steward turned and left to deliver the orders.

 

Meanwhile, Lord Emperor Marion Dimsdale III had gathered the heads of the royal noble houses for a meeting in the war room of the Keep. There, the nobles and their top advisors peered out from the upper levels of the central tower down at the South wall of the city. Smoke was rising from deep in the woods and the first reports were of heavy losses for the Realm. They grumbled over the disturbance and pigeons carried news back and forth from the command center just outside of the protection of the keep, where the City Commander was in charge of the defense of the city. The Lord Emperor turned to his Field Marshal and nodded. The Marshall turned and went about enacting the Lord’s request. The nobles grumbled that no previous Lord Emperor in the last hundred years has been forced to marshall the army and defend the city. “These are strange times.” a noble was heard to say.

 

The Commander, from his lookout a few hundred yards from the Keep, was sure the soldiers of Realm would handle this rabble, despite the initial losses. The Bessan Shifter slave at his side held a vein of weak blue Stream in her hand. “Is everything normal? Are they attacking from any of the other districts of the city?” The Shifter peered into the Stream but did not see what was happening in the passageways underneath the Keep. In their minds, no one could ever get into those underground tunnels because the entrance was constantly monitored. Or at least, so they had thought. Today, however, they had been outwitted by a group of very devious Jeshans. “Everything is fine except for what 18902 has reported at the south wall, all areas say no activity. Stream is undisturbed, no artificial motion, all access points are secure.”

“Excellent.” The Commander said. “We should have this taken care of in no time.”

 

Far outside the wall, close to 10,000 armed raiders were hiding in the woods only a few miles away in a small patch of forest near the coast, waiting for “the signal.” They had been in the area for some time, and none of them were sure what the signal was, but knew that if they waited for the signal, they were sure to go on the greatest raid of all their lives. Many respected sources were very clearly told what to do, and where to look. They did have some riders at the edge of the woods facing north, which they were clear is where the signal was going to be coming from. More raiders were accumulating as word had been spreading for days. No one had any clue what was going to be raided this far south, and in The Realm no less. All the cities in this country are guarded, and the only thing that’s due north is the City of Realm, which none of them were expecting to raid today. As a result, most were thinking they were going to be disappointed  despite the promising quality of the claim.

 

Near the south gate, the distractors had accomplished what they were supposed to, but they had also got the south gate under control and were confronting any that came out of it. The bandits and soldiers of the Realm began to skirmish in the woods, with a terrible advantage going to the raiders in the melee combat.

 

At the blaring sound of trumpets, cavalry of Realm came charging out of the forest with the Field Marshall at the head and trampled any in their path. The cavalry ran through the bandit encampment, butchering the archers in an abrupt and unexpected attack. The bandits looked at each other in dismay “They likely came out of the garden gate!” One of them shouted. “Which I thought we had covered…” In truth, they had simply neglected to send anyone to watch the garden gate. The remaining archers scattered into the woods and the men of the Realm surged.

 

The Jeshan Shifter looked at the wall, closed his eyes while holding on to a vein of Stream and caused it to grow up, and into the City. His time was running out, as his infantry protectors were not going to last much longer. He realized what was at stake and he channeled his concentration into sending it as far into the City as he could.

 

The vein of Stream expanded over the peak of the wall, back down and along the ground in the direction of the Great Keep. The Lords of Realm on horseback spotted the Jeshan Shifter channeling and ordered a full attack. They charged ahead and the infantry guarding the Jeshan held out their pikes; a few with swords behind them stood their ground. The Stream had crept far into the city, but not quite far enough.

 

The Jeshan was quickly consumed in the cavalry charge and was slaughtered, along with the remaining pikes and infantry. His Stream vein started to roll back a little, but then, it accelerated forward until it crept all the way inside the main hall of the Keep. The vein spiraled down the stairs and into the dungeons where the Jeshan Shifters were waiting, calling to it. They had been reaching out and pulling on the Stream towards themselves once their ally Shifter had propelled it far enough for them to grab.

 

In the command center, the Bessan Shifter spotted the Stream vein intrusion. “Sire,” she says flatly, “I think something is happening.”

He sternly looked down at her, perplexed. “What?”

“The Jeshan, he’s…” She trailed off, suddenly realizing along with the others.

 

The cavalry mowed down the last of the raiders outside the city walls and rounded up the remaining soldiers of Realm at the gate. A great cheer went up amongst the men as they stood victorious. “Send a pigeon to the Emperor, young squire,” said one of the Lords of Realm from atop his white steed. “We have won the day!”

 

The Bessans discovered what was happening all too late to do anything about it. These Jeshans had tricked them somehow and had breached their defenses. Now, their worst fears realized, their enemy stood, Stream in hand, right in the beating heart of the Realm.

 

“Oh sire…” the Shifter beside the City Commander said and the Stream fell delicately out of her hand in defeat. She looked at him, eyes wide with terror. “I, I’m sorry…”

“What did you see!?” He screamed.

 

Their run through the dungeons was over and, together, they held the Stream tightly in their hands. One of them clasped a crudely arrowhead shaped crystal and they all marveled at it once it caught the light of the Stream and radiated with power. “Streamstone” one of them said.

 

“It’s going to make us into legends.” Another said. “By the light of the Stream be bound, brothers. For Strayalis!” They chanted together.

 

They closed their eyes, and all clasped the crystal of Streamstone and felt themselves blending back into the Stream, their true home. A great power began to reverberate and amplify between them and the Stone. With the energy of their combined life forces, they commanded the Stream, through the power of the Streamstone, to unleash a violent expansion of the earth around them and to grow as high as possible until all of their vital energy was gone.

 

Suddenly, behind the City Commander, the Great Keep of the City of Realm exploded outward from the base in an expanding, rising ring of solid earth, rock and shocked brick that extended out above the City. The resonating blast grew upward rapidly but blew less outward as it rose higher into the sky. The accelerating blast tapered as it climbed above the city forming a spire of falling earth several hundred feet vertically where the Keep once stood. It reached its crest in an instant and dissipated, allowing the displaced dirt, stone and brick to rain  down upon the City.

 

Mammoth hunks of the fortifications as large as whole city blocks slammed down into the homes of the nobility, merchants and upper class. The area around the mount of the Keep was completely consumed by a great wave of falling dirt and rubble as a shower of debris fell in the majority of the outer urban area that little could hope to survive. Whole tower sections crashed down onto entire neighborhoods and historic districts, erasing them under ten feet of crushing brick in an instant.

 

A burning wave of charged dust came roaring down the streets as the debris fell and it was followed closely by a shockwave that tore grown men right off their feet and cast them aside as the city began to disappear. Millions of homes were obliterated under a crushing rain of earth and brick fanning out in all directions. A great gust of maddening wind was finally cast out from the City as the Keep fell; having breathed its final breath. It did not seem possible that many in the area behind the walls could have  survived the devastation.

 

The outer City wall and districts were pelted with huge pieces of the Keep and rock that had been cast violently and far into the air. They smashed against the ramparts and some blasted through them; sending even more brick debris flying about violently. The extensive damage inflicted on the City and the defenses had exposed it to attack from all directions; there were great gaping holes in the fortifications. Smaller bricks and chunks of the Keep landed in the outskirts, often rolling through many houses before coming to a stop or slamming hard into homes, pulverizing everything around where they land. A cloud of vicious, choking dust then fully enveloped the City and all became lost to sight.

 

No bells rang out, just the faint sounds of screaming could be heard carrying over the wind. The afternoon coastal flow slowly pushed the dust of Realm out to sea as the midday sun sank lower in the sky.

 

The 10,000 raiders stood at the edge of the woods a few miles away, dumbfounded by what they had just seen. “Do you think that was the signal?”

Story 1: The Huntress and Her Prey

Her left arm was held straight out into the air, grasping the longbow firm and on a bold arc. A fierce breeze whipped through the tall grass all around as the ranger crouched. An arrow was notched and a glistening greenish yellow vein of Stream coiled around the hand that held the string taught. Her eyes were shut tight and she appeared to be in deep concentration. Abruptly, the skilled huntress released the arrow into the sky. It was unclear what she might be firing at as it quickly vanished on a trajectory that took it high and  far.

 

Motionless, like a stone gargoyle, she was poised and continued to listen. The Bessan’s eyes were still shut tight as her arm slowly lowered. Without hesitation, she sprung to her feet and was on the move. The darkly clad Shifter launched out of hiding into the open field running full speed, pursuing something in the general direction her projectile had been fired. The thick but short black cloak on her shoulders snapped behind her as she raced through the grass.

 

The ranger ran forward a few hundred yards, paused to tap the Stream briefly, then charged off much in the same direction she had been going. The accuracy of her chase improved as she repeated this process. If this Bessan huntress had someone marked, there was almost certainly no escape. Her prey, in this case, had the courtesy to never stray too far from the Stream to be completely hidden from sight.

 

The Bessan paused and surveyed the clearing she had come upon, seeming to recognize the place. The huntress looked down and dabbed at some blood on the ground.  Crouching low to the earth again, the Shifter snapped the sparkling green and orange Stream back into her hand and closed her eyes. Without opening them, she delicately unsheathed her bow, notched an arrow and aimed high into the gathering night. The motionless ranger waited several minutes before taking her shot and the arrow vanished on a deep arc into the distant wilderness.

 

Coming back to life quickly this time, the Bessan raced forward, releasing the Stream. Her short, raven-black hair frolicked about her shoulders lightly as she sprinted. Climbing up over a hill and back down the other side, the huntress closed in on her prey. She slid quietly through the tall grass and could feel the thick stalks tugging at her cloak and sword scabbard. She broke into an open area and came upon a perforated human in studded leather armor and a tattered, bloody cloak. He was crawling along the ground and the Shifter was displeased that he had snapped one of her arrows. The human was not able to run anymore and had, essentially, given up. It became apparent that the multiple wounds he had received were weighing on him.

“Well,” he said, hands in the dirt. “You have me.”

 

“Indeed.” She said flatly. “Why did you run? Running doesn’t solve anything. Running makes people come chase after you, and, well, now here we are.”

 

“I know,” he mumbled painfully. “But if I had betrayed them, they would have treated me much worse than you ever will. You see, they have no problem eating your eyeball right out of it’s socket even if they suspect they’ve been wronged. You probably wouldn’t ever be that hungry or angry. I think I’ll take my chances with you.”

 

“You seem well aware of how brutal they are, and yet you turned them on a helpless city, unable to defend itself from a most gruesome foe.” The ranger seemed a bit outraged at his casualness, while she sheathed her bow back beside the quiver.

 

“Yes.” He was solemn, but resolved.

 

“Why?” She pleaded. “Those were your people, your brothers, your sisters. What do you have left? What are you hoping to be the King of now? What could they have offered you to make you do this to your own kind?” Her tone elevating as the Ranger grabbed hold of him by the shoulder buckle of his armor. She marched off towards the deepening wood some distance away, dragging her kill behind her like he was a slaughtered animal.  The grizzled man smiled and winced as the arrow in his leg collided with objects on the ground. His lifeless limbs rolled over rocks and logs, leaving a thin trail of blood behind.

 

“You would never understand.” He said almost to himself, looking down at the world going by. Grunting occasionally in displeasure.

 

“Honestly, I’d really like to know what it took to convince you that THIS was what you needed to do. That your part in a scheme could enable such death and pain must have some explanation.”

There was a moment of silence that seemed to carry on for a agonizingly long time.

 

“I just wanted to see it burn.” He started laughing, first slow, then higher and sharper, until he was cackling. “I remember their screams. So many. Children. Screaming…” The flames were still roaring in his eyes.

 

The Bessan Shifter backhanded him with her chain gauntlet across his face. “Enough!”

 

When dusk came, she tied his hands and feet down to the earth so he couldn’t wiggle away and made no fire. The ranger settled down in a clearing in the low brush many miles from the road, but not quite to the protection of the trees, to set camp for the night. It would be another few days journey hauling this traitor back to Naruna for further questioning. The ranger thought as she healed him, treated and bandaged his wounds. Sadly, she realized he had left an alarmingly long trail of blood to her location, which was of concern to her. There is nothing I can do about this now. The ranger conceded to herself.

 

As the sun went down and darkness crept in from all sides, there was a deep red glow on the horizon, growing thicker and darker the lower it went. “Smoke. So much smoke.” She said aloud, and to no one in particular. Smoke had been billowing from her city when she left, but that was two days ago. The air of the Fold was still thick with it. Even if the city the Bessan Shifter had been born in was gone, she would not stand for that to be the fate of other people’s homes across the Kingdom.

 

Gaining what they can from this traitor is of paramount concern, she thought, as the plan to destroy the city had clearly been waged in secret, on multiple fronts and with the assistance of many. Unraveling this sordid catastrophe is  going to take time. Did we even have time? Was it already too late? Things were moving so rapidly now… To her, a great deal had changed in a short time; the stakes had been raised to a new and perilous level.

 

“I know what you’re thinking,” her prisoner began with his back to her and his ear close to the ground. Perturbed by his noisiness, she glowered at him sternly. “You’re thinking, ‘I wonder if I torture him, what information I could get long before I reach Naruna. Then wouldn’t I be just such a good little ranger, so very praiseworthy, having learned so much from the traitor beforehand?” He scoffed in outrage to his own spun reality. “I’ll never talk to you, no matter what you do to me.”

 

“Won’t you?” She jested. “It would make my job so much easier, and then I wouldn’t need to take any of my tools out or get them dirty.” the Shifter composed herself and snapped back. “I’m not wasting my time discussing anything with you. You’ll talk when we get to Naruna, or you’ll show them what they need to see.”

 

He lifted his head from the ground suddenly and raised his voice. “As a matter of fact,” he said boldly, snapping around to face his captor and seeming encouraged, “I don’t think we’ll be going to Naruna at all. No, I have decided I am going to escape now.”

 

She chuckled dryly, and leaned in towards him, “and just how did you plan on doing that?”

 

“Not me,” he said. “Those Anten behind you might help, though.”

 

Several Anten entered the clearing, spotting the ranger right away. The leader of the group leapt at the Shifter and tried to push her down. The nimble huntress used the momentum of her fall to glide over her prisoner and land a short distance away from the Anten. While tied to the ground, he was shouting something in the Anten tongue. His way of telling them he is an ally, that is, if they speak the dialect he’s using. She thought.

 

Gathering herself, the ranger kicked the Anten who had jumped on her away while it tried to get up; its balance being compromised. Using that momentum, she sprung for the safety of the tall grass behind her. The Anten wasn’t deterred by her attack and also quite dexterous; it lunged forward and grabbed her leg as she tried to flee. In an instinctual reaction, the Shifter snapped the Stream to her hand and used her mastery of the ethereal elements to blast the Anten in the face with a wave of black, tainted fire. The scalding flames turned pure again as it caught on to the surrounding grass and began to spread. Two of the Anten who had moved in for the kill were also set ablaze and they fled screaming madly. When the black fire snapped into existence a thunderous boom of sound and energy was created, which terrified the other Anten. The warrior held onto her foot even as his body burned, and the flesh of his face melted away to the bone. The remaining Anten in the patrol began to run about wildly as the flames grew brighter and larger. The ranger severed the burning Anten’s arm with her sword and cut the bonds of her prisoner. “If you run from me, I will find you.” The stern huntress whispered to him. He paid her no mind, and ran off by himself into the night.

 

The poisoned Shifter grabbed her stomach and limped away through the grass. The ranger stumbled forward, light headed and sick. She wobbled about looking for something to hold onto, reaching out with her hands. She gripped the trunk of a tree and the Bessan remembered her training. Breathe. The Shifter took several minutes to regain composure as the poison of violating the natural order was flushed from her body.

 

As she gained greater distance from the fire, things became clearer in the darkness. The ranger crouched and slid through the brush as the Anten darted about, searching. Then, the screams of her prisoner cut through the night air. He seemed to have been captured and was very likely being eaten alive. Damn. She knew the mission was over.

 

The Bessan came to a clearing and headed towards the deepening darkness of the wood when an Anten attacked from the empty shadow of the tall grass.  The Shifter whirled about and dodged the fierce swing of its axe. She spun away and created some distance between herself and the Anten. It spat and hissed at her angrily, then charged. Snapping the Stream back to her hand again, she thrust him away with a mighty breath of wind following her outstretched, clenched fist.  The Anten was shoved as he reeled against the force of it and was moved back a dozen feet or so.

 

The feral savage was swift, strong, and did not lose its footing when the wind blew him away. Instead the warrior recoiled and leapt vertically into the air. The vicious warrior raised his axe high above his head and released a chilling, guttural scream; hurling himself into combat. The Bessan Shifter looked at him for a moment as she communed with the Stream. To the Shifter, time slowed down and her keen senses were greatly heightened. She made sure no other Anten were nearby and brought into focus what would be the most efficient way to resolve this situation. Decisively, the Shifter held out her flattened hand as her brutal enemy reached the peak of his leap. Then with authority, the Bessan clenched her fist and brought the  elemental force of the wind in behind the Anten, smashing him violently against the ground. His body impacted at extreme speed and was ripped into fleshy chunks which scattered out in all directions into the grass at the perimeter of the clearing. The Shifter released the Stream and sprinted for the cover of the trees. Once she had some distance from the scene of her battle, the ranger looked for a place to avoid the Anten patrol which would surely investigate that scream.

 

Waiting high in a tree for a few hours, the Shifter remained motionless until the Anten patrols had moved on. She went back to her prisoner’s remains and searched through what was left of him. Within his saturated garments, she found some handwritten notes in a language she didn’t understand. It was an item she would have to bring to the Maesters in Naruna. “It’s something,” she sighed. “It’s better than nothing.”

 

“I may have lost the mission, but I have not lost hope.” The ranger stared back at the land set ablaze by her defensive fire as the flames spread into the deep woods.  “This land is burning.” With that, she took to foot again, heading back southeast across the Fold to the city of Naruna and the Academy. The road home would take a few more days, and the weight of her failed mission wore heavy on her already. As she made her way through the woods. The ranger’s bones ached and she needed to find another safe place to rest soon. The mounting pressure of the days ahead weighed on her, while feeling a great sense of pity for those who would be caught up in these perilous times. My part to play isn’t over yet. She thought confidently.