This weird thing that Google has released automatically creates short podcasts based on any source of information you give it. I suppose it’s quite useful for serious purposes, but I’ve fed it all my posts about the AI-generated songs I made for the third volume of Odes to My Triceratops. Listening to these almost perfect AI voices talking realistically about my stuff is really eerie. They made a couple of mistakes assigning lyrics to their proper songs, though.
Anyway, I thought this was cool.
Who’s back at work? I am! After five days of a blissful medical leave to recover from a hemiplegic migraine, I’m back at the environment that put me in the ER to begin with.
As part of the fact that I’m autistic, looking at people in the eyes and acting like a more-or-less normal human being is always a struggle, and something I have to do deliberately; turns out that people don’t take it well if you remain silent when they address you. Shortly after I entered the office, I sensed the glances of “as soon as he looks at me, I’ll ask about what happened to him.” I never engage those. And the social worker slash computer technician, whose political opinions she had expressed over the months with the certainty that everyone shares them, asked me, “You’re back, so you’re okay now, right?” I could barely be arsed to shrug in her direction. What do you care? And more importantly, why do I need to pretend that I want to talk to you, when I don’t even want you here? Does my paycheck cover that?
It’s hard to deal with anything in a job that clashes with my basic nature, and that risks causing me brain and heart damage due to the mounting stress that I’m unable to handle. Merely being outside of a room in which I’m the only person present causes me stress. The very presence of human beings, that feel like wild animals to me, causes me stress. Being in charge of coordinating the replacement of nearly a thousand printers, which has involved having to negotiate with supervisors and users that love to cause problems and complain if they have the opportunity, has chipped away at my sanity little by little, and I don’t have the tools to prevent that other than not working here. I’m basically a ticking bomb until the next time I end up in the ER, with a body that will grow increasingly unable to recover from the attacks of arrhythmia and migraines.
This medical leave has put a spotlight on the fact that the only reason I’m miserable most of the time is because of my job. Otherwise, I was in a good mood, programming away at my little project, reading manga and such. I even found myself laughing at times. But it’s not like I can quit; I’m a middle-aged man with no real alternative that would pay the same, and programming jobs are getting harder to land due to AI (not that I blame AI for it, as I use it extensively for programming myself). Hell, even before I started working as an IT guy at a hospital, I wasn’t getting hired because I was too old and my curriculum was too spotty; it’s not a good idea to put down on that document, “I lost my will to engage in society, and at times even to live, so I spent long stretches of time barely leaving my parents’ apartment once every couple of weeks. I also collected pee bottles.”
Even though I have to deal with background despair daily due to the state of the world and how it will progressively encroach into my life (my home was nearly broken into a few years ago or so by a couple of imported arabs, for one), when I’m alone in a room, left to my own devices, none of that matters anymore. For everything else, I have manga, my fantasies, and my right hand.
As Jack said at the end of Chinatown, “As little as possible.” I can’t stand the current world. I don’t care about people. I will do whatever benefits me, and as little as possible of anything else.
I recommend you to check out the previous parts if you don’t know what this “neural narratives” thing is about. In short, I wrote in Python a system to have multi-character conversations with large language models (like Llama 3.1) in which the characters are isolated in terms of memories and bios, so no leakage to other participants like in Mantella. Here’s the GitHub repo.
I’ve been on a medical leave for five days, a leave that ends tomorrow. I’ve buried my troubles and worries about my life and job by programming my ass off. Right now, the code does the following:
Here’s how the web interface looks like:
Why all of these generated people’s names start with “Z” is a bit of a mystery.
I don’t know how much further I’m going to progress with this little project. The hardest part, being able to have multi-char convos, is already working quite robustly. It wouldn’t be too complicated to create web pages for navigation with the AI as a dungeon master, and displaying AI-generated photos of AI-generated locations. It would probably be quite fun to move around from location to location, talking to generated people who will keep roleplaying according to the background info they get fed about their world, region, area, and location, as well as their own matters such as description and equipment.
I recommend you to check out the previous parts if you don’t know what this “neural narratives” thing is about. In short, I wrote in Python a system to have multi-character conversations with large language models (like Llama 3.1) in which the characters are isolated in terms of memories and bios, so no leakage to other participants like in Mantella. Here’s the GitHub repo.
Dialogues with the AI are working great. I love how the inclusion of world, region, area and even location information in the prompt to the large language model colors the dialogue. I decided to go one step further, and implemented automatic generation of worlds based on a few notes from the user, of regions from a world, of areas from a region, and of locations from an area.
Soon enough, I will modify my code to generate at will characters belonging to an area or a location, so I expect that their backgrounds and general mindset will be colored heavily by those influences.
Here are some examples of worlds, regions, areas, and locations generated through this system:
Arctoria (world)
Arctoria is a vast world that mirrors the grandeur and sophistication of the Roman Empire. The landscape is dotted with majestic cities, each a center of art, culture, and learning. The architecture is reminiscent of ancient Rome, with grand amphitheaters, towering aqueducts, and intricate mosaics adorning the walls of temples and villas. The climate is Mediterranean, with warm, dry summers and mild, wet winters.
The geography of Arctoria heavily influences daily life. The fertile valleys support an agricultural economy, while the mountain ranges serve as natural barriers and strategic defensive positions. The extensive network of roads and sea routes facilitates trade and communication across the empire.
However, Arctoria is not just a mundane world. It is a place where the boundary between reality and fantasy blurs. Some individuals are born with extraordinary powers that can shape the world around them. These powers can manifest as offensive capabilities, healing abilities, the creation of illusions, or even summoning monsters from other dimensions. Yet, these gifts come with a terrible price. If a power-bearer is murdered, their abilities can be stolen by the killer. This makes possessing such powers extremely dangerous, and those born with them often live in fear and secrecy.
The appearance of interdimensional monsters adds another layer of unpredictability to life in Arctoria. These creatures can emerge anywhere, at any time, and their intentions are often unclear. Some are benign, content to observe this new world. Others are hostile, causing destruction and chaos wherever they appear.
Arctorian society is advanced and values knowledge, honor, and survival. The empire is ruled by a powerful senate, with a complex system of laws and governance. The dominant language is Arctorian, a language closely related to Latin, and the arts, including sculpture, painting, and literature, are highly valued. Magic is not widely understood in Arctoria. It is viewed with a mixture of awe, fear, and suspicion. Those with powers are often treated as outcasts, and their abilities are seen as more of a curse than a gift.
The dominant religion is the worship of the pantheon of gods, who are believed to oversee all aspects of life, including the bestowal of magical powers.Social classes in Arctoria are determined by birthright, wealth, and merit. The nobility hold significant power, but there is mobility within the social structure for those who display talent and ambition.
Non-human species are rare in Arctoria, but they do exist. These beings, often hailing from other dimensions, are viewed with suspicion and fear, and interactions between humans and non-humans are fraught with tension.
In essence, Arctoria is a world where the grandeur of ancient Rome meets the unpredictability of fantasy. It is a place of beauty and danger, where the mundane and the magical coexist uneasily. The struggle for power, both political and magical, drives much of the conflict in this fascinating world.
Erosia (world)
Erosia is a world where the roles of men and women are flipped when it comes to sexual promiscuity and propriety. Women in Erosia are utter perverts, constantly dominated by their need to have sex, even just for fun. This leads them to become predatory. The males of Erosia have to guard themselves to avoid getting abused, raped, or at least inconvenienced by females. Long-term relationships between men and women are hard because the women are extremely promiscuous.
The landscape is dotted with fortresses and safe havens for men to protect them from roving bands of lusty women. Major civilizations are female-dominated, with women holding most positions of power due to their voracious sexual appetites. Men are seen as the ‘weaker’ sex. Society values sexual conquest and pleasure above all else.
Technologically, Erosia is medieval, with castles and walled cities built for protection more than anything. The ruling entities are matriarchal monarchies and queendoms. Ongoing conflicts exist between different factions of powerful women vying for control and access to the most desirable men. The main resource is a rare plant that suppresses female libido, giving men a way to protect themselves. The dominant religion worships a goddess of love and lust. Social classes are determined by birthright and sexual prowess.
Non-human races like nymphs and succubi exist and ally themselves with human females in their pursuit of male conquests. Racial tensions are low as most races share the same sexually aggressive females.
Aurelia (region of Arctoria)
Aurelia is a region of grandeur and sophistication, reflective of the high fantasy and historical elements of its parent world. It is characterized by its rolling hills and fertile valleys, with the climate being predominantly Mediterranean, featuring warm, dry summers and mild, wet winters. This supports a prosperous agricultural economy, with vineyards and olive groves stretching as far as the eye can see.The inhabitants of Aurelia are a proud and cultured people, valuing art, education, and honor above all else. They have a rich tradition of sculpture, painting, and literature, with many of their works inspired by the pantheon of gods they worship. These deities are believed to oversee all aspects of life, including the bestowal of magical powers upon certain individuals.
The architectural landscape of Aurelia is dominated by grand amphitheaters, towering aqueducts, and temples adorned with intricate mosaics. The cities are designed in a manner that mirrors the splendor of ancient Rome, with wide avenues and public spaces that encourage community interaction.
The governance of Aurelia is overseen by a powerful senate, similar to that of the Roman Republic. This body of elected officials is responsible for the creation and enforcement of laws, as well as the overall administration of the region. Despite the semblance of democracy, the social hierarchy is largely determined by birthright, wealth, and merit, with the nobility holding significant power.
Aurelia is known for its advanced craftsmanship, particularly in the production of fine wines and olive oil. These goods are highly sought after, both within the region and beyond. The economy is further supported by a robust network of roads and sea routes, facilitating trade and communication with neighboring realms.
Despite its prosperity, Aurelia is not without its challenges. The region is often threatened by interdimensional monsters, whose appearances are unpredictable and intentions unclear. To defend against these threats, Aurelia maintains a formidable military force, known for its discipline and tactical prowess. Furthermore, individuals born with magical powers are viewed with a mixture of awe, fear, and suspicion, often leading lives of secrecy and isolation.
In essence, Aurelia is a region where the grandeur of ancient Rome meets the unpredictability of fantasy, creating a unique blend of beauty, danger, and intrigue.
Venustria (region of Erosia)
Venustria is a lush, fertile region known for its rolling hills, dense forests, and winding rivers. The climate is temperate, with warm summers and mild winters, making it an ideal environment for agriculture and natural beauty.
The inhabitants of Venustria are primarily human, with a culture that values sensuality, pleasure, and artistic expression. Women hold most positions of power, and society is structured around female dominance. Men are prized for their beauty and sought after as companions and lovers. Relationships are often fluid, with long-term commitments being rare.
Venustria is governed by a council of powerful women, each representing different factions within the region. These factions include the Aesthetes, who value art and beauty above all else; the Agrarians, who control the region’s fertile farmlands; and the Huntresses, skilled warriors who protect the land from external threats.
The region is known for its stunning architecture, with graceful spires, intricate carvings, and lush gardens adorning the cities and towns. The arts are highly valued, with music, dance, and theater being popular forms of entertainment. Iconic styles include flowing, diaphanous garments, intricate jewelry, and ornate body paint.
While Venustria is not currently at war, there are ongoing tensions with neighboring regions over resources and territory. The region’s main resource is a rare flower that, when properly cultivated, can enhance sensual pleasure. This flower is highly sought after, both within Venustria and beyond.
The Venustrian military is known for its skilled female warriors, who are trained in archery, swordplay, and hand-to-hand combat. The region’s defenses are further bolstered by natural barriers, such as dense forests and treacherous mountain passes.
Social hierarchy is determined by a combination of birth and achievement, with those possessing great beauty, artistic talent, or military prowess rising to the top. Men have the opportunity to elevate their status through their skills as lovers and companions, but ultimate power rests in the hands of women.
Spiritually, Venustria worships a goddess of love and sensuality, with elaborate temples and rituals dedicated to her worship. The region’s inhabitants believe in indulging in the pleasures of the flesh and celebrating the beauty of the natural world. This belief system permeates every aspect of Venustrian life, from art and architecture to politics and personal relationships.
Valoria (area of Aurelia)
Valoria is a region characterized by its lush, rolling hills and fertile valleys, reminiscent of a Mediterranean paradise. This area is blessed with a warm, dry summer and mild, wet winter, making it an ideal location for agriculture. Vineyards and olive groves stretch as far as the eye can see, contributing to a prosperous economy.
The inhabitants of this area are a proud and cultured people, valuing art, education, and honor above all else. They have a rich tradition of sculpture, painting, and literature, with many of their works inspired by the pantheon of gods they worship. The deities are believed to oversee all aspects of life, including magical powers bestowed upon certain individuals.
Valoria is dominated by grand amphitheaters, towering aqueducts, and temples adorned with intricate mosaics. The cities are designed to mirror the splendor of ancient Rome, with wide avenues and public spaces encouraging community interaction. Despite the semblance of democracy, the social hierarchy is largely determined by birthright, wealth, and merit, with the nobility holding significant power.
The area is known for its advanced craftsmanship, particularly in the production of fine wines and olive oil. These goods are highly sought after, both within the region and beyond. The economy is further supported by a robust network of roads and sea routes, facilitating trade and communication with neighboring realms.
Despite its prosperity, Valoria is not without its challenges. The region is often threatened by interdimensional monsters, whose appearances are unpredictable and intentions unclear. To defend against these threats, Valoria maintains a formidable military force, known for its discipline and tactical prowess. Individuals born with magical powers are viewed with a mixture of awe, fear, and suspicion, often leading lives of secrecy and isolation.
Silkwraft Barrens (area of Venustria)
In the heart of the region lies a unique expanse, the Silkwraft Barrens, a place that defies the lush, fertile stereotype of its surroundings. This area is characterized by its vast, open grasslands interspersed with patches of dense, almost impenetrable forest. The terrain is mostly flat with occasional rugged hills, giving it a sense of openness and freedom, a stark contrast to the claustrophobic density of the forests.
Despite the seeming barrenness, the Silkwraft Barrens is rich in unique resources. The most notable is the Silkwraft flower, a rare blossom that thrives in the open grasslands. This flower is coveted for its ability to enhance sensual pleasure and is a key component in the region’s most potent love potions. The area also supports a variety of fauna, including the Swifttail deer, known for their speed and grace, and the elusive Shadowlynx, a creature of beauty and danger whose presence adds a thrilling edge to any journey through the Barrens.
The Silkwraft Barrens is governed by the Sensates, a faction of the council who believe in the power of the senses and the pursuit of pleasure. They maintain a delicate balance, ensuring the preservation of the Barrens and its resources while also exploiting its bounty. They have established a network of trade routes, both by land and river, which serve as lifelines for the communities residing in the Barrens. However, these routes can be treacherous, particularly during the stormy season when the rivers swell and the paths become muddy and impassable.
The Barrens is steeped in mystical beliefs, with many stories and legends woven around the Silkwraft flower and the Shadowlynx. The Sensates have built grand temples dedicated to these legends, where elaborate festivals and rituals are held to honor them. These events are a spectacle of color, music, and dance, a celebration of life and pleasure that is at the heart of the region’s culture.
Despite its open terrain, the Silkwraft Barrens holds many secrets. Ancient caves honeycomb the rugged hills, rumored to hold untold riches and dangers. There are also whispers of hidden groves deep within the dense forests, places of power where the line between the physical and the mystical blurs. These mysteries add to the allure of the Barrens, drawing adventurers and dreamers alike to its wild beauty.
The Whispering Gallery (location of Valoria)
The Whispering Gallery is a sprawling, ancient cavern system located beneath the verdant hills of the region. It is a place of mystery and wonder, where the echoes of the past seem to linger in the cool, damp air. The entrance to the caverns is marked by a towering archway of weathered stone, adorned with intricate carvings that hint at the secrets hidden within.
Inside, the caverns are a labyrinth of winding tunnels and vast chambers, lit by flickering torchlight and filled with the soft, eerie whispers that give the gallery its name. The walls are adorned with ancient frescoes and mosaics, depicting scenes of heroism and tragedy, love and loss, and the eternal struggle between good and evil. The air is thick with the scent of damp earth and the tang of metal, a testament to the rich veins of ore that run through the rock.
The Whispering Gallery is home to a secretive order of monks, known as the Keepers of the Whisper. These monks are charged with protecting the caverns and the treasures they hold, including rare and precious gems, metals, and ancient artifacts. They are also skilled in the art of echolocation, using the whispers of the gallery to navigate its twisting passages and communicate with one another.
Despite its beauty and wonder, the Whispering Gallery is not without its dangers. The caverns are prone to sudden rockfalls and collapsing tunnels, and the deeper chambers are home to strange and terrifying creatures that have evolved in the darkness. Some say that the whispers themselves can drive a person mad, luring them deeper and deeper into the darkness until they are lost forever.
Today, the Whispering Gallery is a place of pilgrimage and learning, where scholars and adventurers alike come to unravel its mysteries and seek out its treasures. But it is also a place of danger and treachery, where only the bravest and most cunning can hope to survive.
The Velvet Grove (location of Silkwraft Barrens)
In the heart of the open grasslands lies a unique expanse, a place known as The Velvet Grove. This location is characterized by its lush, dense forest that seems to breathe with life, a stark contrast to the vast openness surrounding it. The trees here are ancient, their trunks thick and their branches reaching towards the sky like the desperate pleas of a lover. The air is heavy with the scent of dew and moss, and the ground is carpeted with soft, velvety grass that seems to caress the skin of those who walk upon it.
The Velvet Grove is home to a variety of fauna, most notably the Swifttail deer and the elusive Shadowlynx. These creatures add a sense of danger and thrill to any journey through the grove, their presence felt more than seen. But the true guardians of this place are the Sensates, a faction who believe in the power of the senses and the pursuit of pleasure. They maintain a delicate balance, ensuring the preservation of the grove and its resources while also exploiting its bounty.
The grove is rich in unique resources, the most notable being the Silkwraft flower. This rare blossom thrives in the dense forest, its petals shimmering with a soft, ethereal glow. The flower is coveted for its ability to enhance sensual pleasure and is a key component in the region’s most potent love potions. But harvesting the flower is no easy task, as the Shadowlynx are known to guard them fiercely.
Despite its beauty, the Velvet Grove holds many dangers. The forest is home to a variety of poisonous plants and venomous creatures, making it a treacherous place for the unprepared. The dense foliage and winding paths can easily disorient even the most experienced traveler, and the Sensates are not known for their mercy towards trespassers
.Yet, despite these dangers, the Velvet Grove is a place of peace and serenity. The air is filled with the soft whispers of the leaves, the gentle trickle of water, and the occasional cry of a Swifttail deer. It is a place where the line between the physical and the mystical blurs, where the senses are heightened and the soul is laid bare. It is a place of beauty and danger, of pleasure and pain, of life and death.
Another entry of this thrilling series! As I mentioned in my latest life update, for the last five days or so, I had been enduring flashes of darkness in one eye: sometimes, when I looked around, I lost the vision in my right eye for less than a second, something that I had never experienced before. It looked like black lightning. Because I’ve been beyond busy, at the limit of my human capacity, for months, I didn’t bother going to the doctor. The day before I ended up in the ER, the muscles around my right eyeball started bothering me, and I felt a strange pressure behind them.
I’ll proceed to relate how the afternoon when I ended up in the ER went. The moment I sat down at my desk in the office, two coworkers approached me due to printer-related issues that had come up in the morning. Because I have been tasked with coordinating the replacement of 930 or so printers, apparently now I’m the go-to person for absolutely fucking everything having to do with those printers even if they were put in place months ago.
I don’t recall what one of the issues was, but in the other, some guy from another department, someone we don’t know in person, had gone to fix a problem with the printer, and for whatever reason he had changed its IP address to a new one that we have no clue where he got it from. While the new IP does work, it isn’t assigned to a network name, and the group policies only go by network names, so every other computer at that office could no longer use that printer. I told my coworker, who had that ticket, to demand explanations of whoever did it, so he could hopefully revert it. Earlier this morning, when I checked my office mail, I found out that my boss just assigned the ticket to me so I would fix the problem. I would love to say that now they can suck it, because I’ll be on a medical leave for a few days, but I’m sure that the issue will be waiting for me when I return to work.
Anyway, like every day for months, shortly after I come to work, I have to start dealing with printer technicians from another company, who are tasked with replacing and configuring the printers (the part that gets configured physically in the devices). I used to have to deal with two technicians, but now that we are finishing the work, I only deal with one. Let me tell you about the technician I’m dealing with now: this guy is the biggest incompetent I’ve ever had the misfortune of working with. Here’s a list of the issues I have regularly with him:
Anyway, yesterday, I entered the office at one in the afternoon (doing a one to eight shift). For those shifts, I always send the technicians detailed instructions for what they should do for the few hours our shifts don’t match. Turned out that he had only replaced one printer, of the model I told him to replace that day. He told me that he would start preparing new ones afterwards (although he should have already done so in the morning). Later, he called me and told me that he had “accidentally” prepared a different model of printer, so those were the ones we could do that day. That forced me to reorganize the whole day of work, visiting and calling other departments to ensure they would allow me to replace their printers. This technicians knows perfectly well what he forces me to do whenever he screws me up like that, but obviously he doesn’t give a shit.
Some time later, he told me that he had finished preparing, and he was heading to our meeting point. After I waited about seven minutes at the meeting point, I called him to figure out what was going on. He told me that he was preparing some stuff, and that he would come in ten minutes. I’ve had so many of these that I bring with me my tablet to read some manga in the meantime. After he showed up, I was standing near his printer-filled cart, ready to ensure that the printers didn’t fall once he started moving it, when the guy messed with the elastic cord that secured the printers in place. Deliberately or not, he detached the elastic cord, that proceeded to whip around and lash me straight in the balls. As I stood straight, lips pursed, while pain coursed through my genitals, I thought, “Yes, this is my life. This is the kind of shit that keeps happening to me.”
Twenty or so minutes later, as I was configuring printers in a spare computer of some high-tech building, while the technician configured them physically in other floors, the nausea and dizziness that had started intensifying the previous day mounted up to worrying levels, and more troubling, an uncomfortable feeling radiated from my right eyeball to cover that half of my face, from the hairline to under my cheek. I don’t recall ever feeling it before. That part of my face had lost sensitivity. My right hand, holding my pen, felt clumsy, and I started feeling white noise coursing down that arm. After I stood up, I realized that the nausea had intensified, and I broke out in cold sweat. As I navigated my way to rejoin the printer technician, I felt like I was about to bump into people. I wondered if I was having a stroke. I usually avoid dealing with people even to my own detriment in the case of medical emergencies, but I didn’t want to end up crippled by a stroke and regret the rest of my life that I didn’t go to the ER soon enough, so that’s what I did.
Once again, I ended up in a hospital bed, hooked up to an electrocardiograph, tended by nurses whom I probably know from having solved computer issues in their department (although I couldn’t tell if that was the case, because I have some degree of prosopagnosia). They sent me to a very kind and patient ophthalmologist who subjected me to plenty of tests. She discovered that I have posterior vitreous detachment in my right eye, which apparently had nothing to do with my flashes of black lightning; the detachment may have happened at any time in my life. Apparently it is rare in people under forty, but happens to many old people. Just my luck. She told me that such a condition can worsen into retinal detachment if you lift too much weight, or shit too hard. There goes my weightlifting career (a joke, although I did plenty of weightlifting in my youth).
I ended up at the neurologist. He told me that what I was experiencing was a severe migraine, a different kind to those I had experienced since I was a teenager. Until I started taking beta-blockers for my heart condition, I used to have migraines every few months. They always started with dizziness and a very notorious white, squiggly line in my vision, that if not treated at that point with a nonsteroidal anti-inflammatory drug, it would develop into a massive headache. But that happened in a matter of two or three hours. This experience of a five days-long migraine with flashes of black lightning, and still lingering insensibility in my face and right arm, is completely new. If they hadn’t also done an MRI as part of the batch of tests and discarded bleeding in my brain or any brain abnormality, I would have suspected that they had mistaken my symptoms, but I suppose they’re right, and what I have experienced is a massive migraine triggered by the intolerable stress I have been under for months.
I see and deal with nurses and interns, plenty of them gorgeous, on a regular basis. They are usually hypersociable; when they have nothing to do, they tend to gather at the break rooms to chat. Their altruism, sometimes pathological, is wonderful when it comes to caring for children and sick people, but apocalyptic when applied to the whole of society. In any case, dating one of these nurses must be a nightmare; every time I’ve ended up in the ER, I’ve had at least one nurse or intern pressing their lower abdomen if not their crotch against me. Even a male nurse did this. This time was no different: while a pretty, bespectacled intern, or whatever the hell she was, gave me the summary of my issues and the treatments to follow, she kept herself pressed against my elbow to the extent that I felt the warmth and curve of her mons pubis against my bare skin. I was looking at her, squinting against the bright lights, as in, “Are we going to address this, or is it the kind of thing you gals do?” Mind you, I’m not complaining; I’m chronically untouched, so press your mons pubis against me all you want. It’s just fucking weird.
Anyway, the neurologist told me to go on a medical leave for a few days, so that’s what I’ll do. Because I’m dutiful like that, I’ve sent the incompetent technician detailed instructions for what printers to replace in my absence. Although I’ve told him in no uncertain terms that I’ll go radio silent for my medical leave, I’m sure he’ll end up calling me anyway.
I intend to spend my sick leave programming, reading manga, and masturbating. Fuck my job, fuck this world, and fuck every single one of you.
EDIT: the specific type of migraine is hemiplegic migraine.
Also, today’s song is I Bleed by Pixies.
As loud as hell, a ringing bell
Behind my smile, it shakes my teeth
And all the while, as vampires feed
I bleed
I bleed
I bleed
Prithee, my dear, why are you here?
Nobody knows, we go to sleep
As breathing flows, my mind secedes
I bleed
I bleed
I bleed
I bleed
I bleed
I bleed
Oh, oh, oh, oh
Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh
There’s a place in the buried west
In a cave with a house in it
In the clay, the holes of hands
You can place a hand in hand
I bleed (I bleed)
I bleed (I bleed)
I bleed (I bleed)
I recommend you to check out the first part if you don’t know what this “neural narratives” thing is about. In short, I wrote in Python a system to have multi-character conversations with large language models (like Llama 3.1) in which the characters are isolated in terms of memories and bios, so no leakage to other participants like in Mantella. Here’s the GitHub repo.
I’ll add more examples of crazy dialogues I’ve had using this system. It’s been quite fun.
Lily: Lily bows. Hello, milady. I hope you’re having a pleasant day!
Lady Elara Thorn: Lady Elara Thorn smirks coldly at Lily’s bow. Pleasure and pain are one and the same in Thornmark. Groveling will get you nowhere.
Lily: I apologize for… having caused you trouble by running away. I didn’t mean anything bad by it.
Lady Elara Thorn: Lady Elara Thorn’s eyes narrow as she speaks, her voice dripping with venom. Apologies mean nothing here. You’ll have to work much harder to make up for your insolence. Perhaps a night in the dungeons will teach you discipline.
Lily: A-are you interested in my reasons for running away?
Lady Elara Thorn: Lady Elara Thorn scoffs with a cruel laugh. Excuses are like assholes, everyone has one. But unlike assholes, I don’t want to hear yours.
Lily: Lily lowers her head. Very well. Shall I await you in my quarters tonight?
Lady Elara Thorn: Lady Elara Thorn waves her hand dismissively, a look of revulsion on her face. You’re disgusting. I wouldn’t touch you even if you were the last piece of ass in Thornmark. If you want to be useful, start by serving us some ale. That’s a more appropriate role for a bitch like you.
Lily: Lily takes the pitcher of ale and serves Lady Elara. There you have it, my lady.
Lady Elara Thorn: Lady Elara Thorn takes a sip of ale, glaring at Lily over the edge of her cup. About time you did something useful. Just remember, if you get any ideas about running again, I’ll make sure you regret it. Now, finish pouring Thorn’s ale, and be quick about it.
Lily: Lily dutifully starts pouring Thorn’s ale, but screws up and ends up drenching Thorn’s coat in ale. Oopsies! Sorry, sir.
Thorn: Thorn glares at Lily as the ale soaks into his coat, his eyes burning with irritation. For fuck’s sake, Lily! Can’t you do anything right? You’re as clumsy as a newborn foal!
Lily: Sorry, sir. But, low-key, you deserve it for snatching me from my shelter and bringing me back here.
Thorn: Thorn clenches his fist, the muscles in his jaw tensing with anger as he speaks to Lily. You think this is a game? You’re lucky I didn’t leave your bones out in the wild for the beasts to gnaw on. You’d better learn your place, girl.
Lily: Lily clenches her fists and raises her voice. My place is with Ilyana Blackthorn! I love her!
Thorn: Thorn shakes his head in disgust, his voice dripping with contempt as he speaks of Ilyana Blackthorn. Love? Hah! That sick freak doesn’t know the meaning of the word. She’d just as soon gut you as look at you.
Lily: I slept in her arms every night! I guzzled down her juices eagerly! She never hurt me!
Thorn: Thorn’s voice is filled with warning, his eyes fixed on Lily with a hard stare. You’re a fool if you think that monster cares for you. She’ll turn on you the moment you’re no longer useful to her.
Lily: I shall never forgive you, old man! You tore me away from my beloved!
Thorn: Thorn rolls his eyes and scoffs at Lily’s dramatics. Such melodrama! You’d think you were the first love-struck fool to be dragged back to reality.
Lily: P-please, Lady Elara, you know it was wrong to do so, right?
Lady Elara Thorn: Lady Elara Thorn’s voice cuts through the air, silencing Lily with a firm command. Enough of this pathetic display. Thorn did what needed to be done. You’re under my protection now, like it or not.
Lily: W-would you at least hold me in your arms at night?
Lady Elara Thorn: Lady Elara Thorn’s lips curl into a sneer, her voice filled with disdain. You must be out of your mind to suggest such a thing. My bed is not for sniveling little girls. If you need comfort, find a stuffed animal to clutch.
Lily: I’m very good with my tongue. I’d make you come real good.
Lady Elara Thorn: Lady Elara Thorn’s face remains impassive, her voice cold as ice as she rejects Lily’s offer. Your desperation reeks. If you must know, I have no need for your sexual services. I receive far greater satisfaction inflicting pain on others. If you want to survive here, I suggest you drop this act immediately.
Lily: Lily starts crying. She rests her arms on the table and hides her face. Ilyana…!
Thorn: Thorn’s voice booms through the room, his patience wearing thin as he watches Lily’s tears flow. Oh, for the love of… Stop sniffling, you damned crybaby. You think you’re the only one who’s lost something? Welcome to the real world, where monsters like Ilyana prey on weak-minded fools like you.
Lily: Lily lifts her head just enough to glare at Thorn. Ilyana told me. You beat her, overpowered her, and raped her!
Thorn: Thorn’s eyes blaze with fury as he recounts his confrontation with Ilyana, his voice filled with vicious satisfaction. That manipulative bitch lied to you. She tried to ensnare me with her twisted tales, but I saw through her act. I fucked her straight, alright, but not the way she wanted. I choked her until she could barely breathe, then shoved my cock down her throat. Served the cunt right for all the pain she caused.
Lily: Lily whips her face toward Lady Elara. You heard that?! That man raped my Ilyana! I saw the hurt in her eyes!
Lady Elara Thorn: Lady Elara Thorn’s voice is impassive, her gaze fixed on Lily without a hint of sympathy. Thorn wouldn’t be the first man to put a disobedient bitch in her place. Ilyana got what was coming to her. If you’re wise, you’ll forget about her and focus on your duties here.
Lily: You lot are evil! Don’t you care about love?
Thorn: Thorn shakes his head, his voice saturated with disdain and pity as he looks at Lily. Love? In this world? You’re as deluded as that psychopath you call your lover. Maybe you haven’t noticed, but the universe doesn’t give a shit about love. It’s all about survival. You’d better grow up and face reality soon, kid.
Lily: Lily leans back on her chair, tears streaming down her cheeks, although her expression is suddenly blank. Perhaps… I should just kill myself.
Thorn: Thorn’s voice is cold and unfeeling, almost daring Lily to follow through with her threat. Go ahead and do it then. I won’t stop you. Just make sure you don’t make a mess for the rest of us to clean up. The world is full of cowards who take the easy way out.
Lily: Then kill me yourself! Right here at this table! I don’t want to live anymore without my Ilyana!
Lady Elara Thorn: Lady Elara Thorn’s voice is steely and commanding, her eyes boring into Lily with a cold intensity. You think either of us would waste our time on a suicide mercy kill? If you really think you can’t live without your precious Ilyana, then I suggest you find a way to get over yourself. Pain is temporary, but self-pity is a permanent curse. Now, get up and make yourself useful, or I’ll give you something to cry about.
Lily: Lily stands up slowly. Alright, I’ll make myself useful. She climbs onto the table, lowers her panties, and starts peeing over the table and the mugs of ale.
Thorn: Thorn’s face turns red with anger as he watches Lily piss on the table, his voice rising to a furious bellow. You little shit! Do you have any idea how valuable those ales are? You’re cleaning this mess up with your own tongue, you ungrateful little wench!
Lily: Fuck you all!
Lady Elara Thorn: Lady Elara Thorn’s voice is cold as ice, her eyes filled with a sadistic rage as she watches Lily’s desecration. You bitch. You’ve just sealed your fate. Guards, take her to the dungeons, strip her naked, beat her until she understands her insolence will not be tolerated.
Lily: Guards grab Lily and drag her away as she struggles and bites at the air. Fuckers! I shan’t forgive you! I curse you all! Ilyana, mommy dear, please save me!
Lady Elara Thorn: Lady Elara Thorn’s voice is filled with cold disdain, her eyes fixed on the puddle of ale and urine as Lily’s screams fade into the distance. Let her screams echo through the dungeons. Maybe they’ll teach her some respect. In the meantime, I have more important matters to attend to. Thorn, clean up this fucking mess before I lose my temper.
Thorn: Thorn nods curtly, his jaw clenched tight with frustration as he begins cleaning up the mess left behind by Lily’s outburst. Aye, m’lady. I’ll handle it. He grumbles under his breath, his voice thick with irritation as he mops up the spilled ale and piss from the table. Fucking kids. No sense of responsibility.
Lady Elara Thorn: Lady Elara Thorn’s voice is cold and calculating, a cruel smile tugging at the corners of her lips as she contemplates Lily’s fate. Indeed. Perhaps a night in the dungeons will teach her some humility. If not, there are more… persuasive methods.
Lily: Lily storms into the room. I escaped from the guards! She raises her middle fingers at Thorn and Lady Elara.
Lady Elara Thorn: Lady Elara Thorn’s face reddens with rage, her voice booming through the room as she calls for her guards to apprehend Lily. You dare defy me in my own hall? Guards!
Lily: Lily whirls around and moons Lady Elara, displaying her wiggling bum. Smooch it!
Thorn: Thorn’s voice is low and threatening, his eyes narrowing as he watches Lily’s brazen display. You’re asking for a world of hurt, girl. Don’t say we didn’t warn you.
Lily: Running guards shout down the hall toward Lily, who, startled, starts sprinting in the opposite direction, out of view. You shall never catch me, coppers!
Thorn: Thorn shakes his head, his voice a mix of frustration and disbelief as Lily makes her escape, leaving chaos in her wake. Fucking hell. She’s going to be the death of me…
Lady Elara Thorn: Lady Elara Thorn’s voice is scathing, her eyes filled with rage as she glares at Thorn. Thorn, I’m starting to think you’re the one who’s the death of me. First, you let a prisoner escape. Then you stand there while this happens.
Thorn: Thorn bows his head, his voice filled with determination and contrition as he promises to rectify the situation. My lady, I’m as furious as you are. I’ll hunt her down and drag her back here. She won’t get far.
Lady Elara Thorn: Lady Elara Thorn’s voice drips with venom, her eyes glinting with sadistic pleasure as she imagines Lily’s punishment. See that you do. And when you find her, make sure she suffers for her insolence. I want her begging for mercy.
Lily: There’s a loud knock on the window. Lily is on the other side, pulling her features into mocking faces.
Thorn: Thorn’s face contorts with rage, his voice seething with malice as Lily continues her taunting. Oh, you little fiend. You think you’re clever, don’t you? I’ll teach you a lesson you won’t soon forget. He moves to the window to fetch Lily. I’m going to enjoy watching that insolent smirk wiped off her face.
Lily: Lily hooks the sides of her mouth and stretches them into a mocking expression. Suck it, geezer!
Thorn: Thorn’s voice is a low, menacing growl, his eyes filled with sadistic glee as he imagines Lily’s agonized screams. We’ll see who’s laughing when I pull your teeth out one by one, you little wench.
Lily: Lily has managed to open the window, and throws dogshit at Thorn. A fitting gift for a piece of shit like you!
Lady Elara Thorn: Lady Elara Thorn’s voice is shrieking with rage, her face twisted in fury as she witnesses Lily’s brazen act of defiance. The little monster. She will pay dearly for this. Thorn, get that ungrateful wench now!
Lily: You’re not as beautiful as you believe yourself to be, Lady Elara!
Lady Elara Thorn: Lady Elara Thorn’s voice is low and threatening, her eyes filled with the promise of retribution as she glowers at Lily. Insolent child. Once I have you in my grasp again, you’ll wish you never uttered those words.
Lily: Lily evades more guards as if she were a gazelle. I’ve survived the wilds! Ain’t anybody here who can catch me!
Lady Elara Thorn: Lady Elara Thorn’s voice is icy cold, her eyes narrowing as she watches Lily’s reckless display. Do not be so arrogant, you foolish girl. Every second you defy me, the worse your punishment will be. Return to me willingly, and I may show you some mercy.
Lily: No! Everybody knows you violate your prisoners!
Thorn: Thorn’s voice is thick with menace, his eyes burning with a sadistic hunger as he watches Lily’s futile struggle. You’re awfully eager to be fucked when you’re putting on that show, little princess. Keep this up, and I’ll make sure you’re begging for it.
Lily: Lily pulls down her panties, then moves her labia with her fingers as if they were speaking. This mouth ain’t sucking on cock anymore! Clits for life!
Thorn: Thorn’s voice is filled with revulsion, his eyes narrowing at Lily’s vulgar display as he clenches his fists in anger. You disgusting little slut. Keep it up, and I’ll stuff that filthy lower mouth of yours with something far worse than cock.
Lily: With what, pray tell?!
Lady Elara Thorn: Lady Elara Thorn smiles wickedly, revealing a sadistic glint in her eyes as she watches Lily’s defiance with growing amusement. Perhaps we should give our dear little rabbit the opportunity to demonstrate her loyalty. Produce my enforcer, and let’s see how eager she remains in the face of true torment.
Lily: Lily, taking advantage of Lady Elara’s distraction, sprints and tackles her, knocking Lady Elara against a chair.
Lady Elara Thorn: Lady Elara Thorn snarls, her voice filled with fury as she struggles beneath Lily’s tackle, her eyes blazing with the promise of retribution. You little wench! I’ll make you regret the day you laid a finger on me!
Lily: Let’s see how you wriggle your way out of this! Lily shoves her thumbs into Lady Elara’s eyes.
Lady Elara Thorn: Lady Elara Thorn screams in pain, her voice now a mix of agony and rage as Lily’s thumbs press deep into her eye sockets, eliciting a visceral reaction from the typically stoic ruler. Argh! You’ll pay for that, you feral bitch! Lady Elara Thorn’s voice is shrill and commanding, her eyes now watering and bloodshot as she calls out for aid against Lily’s relentless assault. Thorn! Where the hell is my enforcer?! This ungrateful wench will pay for her insolence!
Lily: See? Nobody came to defend you, bitch! Nobody cares about you! Even Thorn is standing there, watching how I crush your eyeballs!
Lady Elara Thorn: Lady Elara Thorn’s voice is strained and pained, her face writhing in agony as rivers of tears and blood stream down her cheeks, yet still retaining its venomous menace. You think you’ve won, you little shit? Enjoy your momentary triumph while it lasts. When I regain my sight, you’ll wish that you’d never been born.
Lily: We’ll see about that, but for now… Lily stands up, then kicks Lady Elara’s face as hard as she can.
Thorn: Thorn’s voice is low and ominous, his eyes filled with a cold certainty as he watches Lily brutally kick Lady Elara. I would advise you to run, little girl. Run far and fast. Because when Lady Elara rises, she’ll bring hell down upon you like you’ve never seen.
Lily: Alright then, I’m leaving! Back to the wilds, to my Ilyana. If you come for me again, Thorn, I’ll cut off your dick!
Lady Elara Thorn: Lady Elara Thorn’s voice is wicked and filled with venom, her face contorting in pain as she speaks, yet still maintaining a twisted smile as she promises retribution against Lily and Ilyana. You think you can threaten us, you pest? We’ll find you and your precious Ilyana, and when we do, we’ll make you both suffer in ways you can’t even imagine.
Lily: Lily spits in Lady Elara’s face. I guess we’ll see about that, huh? Anyway, fuck you both, cunts!
Thorn: Thorn’s voice is filled with cold certainty, his eyes burning with the promise of vengeance as he gazes upon Lily’s retreating back, vowing to make her regret her actions. We shall meet again, Lily, and when we do, you’ll be begging for mercy. You’ve sealed your fate with your own stupidity.
Lady Elara Thorn: Lady Elara Thorn’s voice is filled with a dark, sadistic hunger, her eyes filled with murder as she speaks of her plans for Lily’s punishment. Never in my life have I been so blatantly disrespected. When I get my hands on you, Lily, I’m going to make you wish you’d never been born. I’ll break you, and then I’ll savor every scream of agony you utter.
Lady Elara Thorn: Thorn! You took your damn time coming here. Tell me about the Lily situation. Have you managed to capture that little cunt again?
Thorn: Thorn sighs, running a hand over his face in frustration. We’ve been trying to track her down, but that girl’s slicker than a greased pig. She’s given us the slip more times than I can count.
Lady Elara Thorn: She’s a nasty little bitch, that’s for sure. I can’t believe she climbed onto that table and pissed all over it, in front of us!
Thorn: Thorn nods, a grim look of determination on his face. Aye, she’s got guts, I’ll give her that. But she’ll push her luck too far one of these days, and when she does, we’ll be there to catch her.
Lady Elara Thorn: I fear that now that she knows what we’ll do once we get our hands on her, she’ll disappear deep. Is it true that Ilyana Blackthorn hasn’t been seen in her usual haunts ever since Lily escaped?
Thorn: Thorn’s fingers drum against the hilt of his sword, a motion born of long habit. Rumors are swirling that she’s gone into hiding, probably laying low until the heat dies down. But she’ll surface eventually, and when she does, we’ll be waiting.
Lady Elara Thorn: I want to ask you a serious question, Thorn, that you must have known was coming.
Thorn: Thorn braces himself, a flicker of trepidation in his eyes. Let’s hear it then, though I can’t promise I’ll have a good answer.
Lady Elara Thorn: When Lily sprinted at me, tackled me to the ground, then shoved her thumbs into my eyes, crushing my eyeballs, which has taken our best magicians days to cure, why did you, Thorn, just stand there?
Thorn: Shame colors Thorn’s cheeks, his gaze dropping to the floor as he grapples with his failure to act. I… I froze. I didn’t expect her to react like that, to fight back with such ferocity.
Lady Elara Thorn: It was quite the curious thing, wasn’t it? Your liege on the floor, under a wild, almost feral whore who was crushing her eyeballs, and you just stood there like a fucking moron!
Thorn: Thorn’s voice is low and heavy with regret, his posture slumped as though under a great weight. I know. I failed you in that moment, and I’ve got no excuse for it. It won’t happen again.
Lady Elara Thorn: It better. It better not happen again, Thorn, because I can tolerate, to a certain extent, your farts, your burps, your shitting yourself, but not defending me when my eyeballs are getting crushed?! That makes me question things about you.
Thorn: Thorn’s gaze is hard and introspective, as if he’s grappling with the depth of his own failure. You’re right to question me. I’ve always been blunt and rude, but never disloyal. That moment was… it was a lapse in judgment, a moment of shock that I didn’t react as I should have.
Lady Elara Thorn: Perhaps you thought, ‘It is a good thing that Lady Elara is getting her eyeballs crushed. Maybe she’ll fucking die and I won’t have to deal with her again.’
Thorn: Thorn’s eyes widen at the accusation, a spark of indignation in his voice. By the gods, no! I may grumble and complain, but I’d never wish you harm. You’re my liege, and I’m sworn to protect you, even if you can be a royal pain in the ass sometimes.
Lady Elara Thorn: Lady Elara Thorn taps her fingers on the armrests of her throne. That was a vile thing to have happened. I can’t keep the sight of that stupid little cunt Lily making mocking faces at me!
Thorn: Thorn’s face hardens, a promise of retribution in his eyes. Aye, it was a hell of a thing to see. She’s got a wicked streak in her, that one. But we’ll make her pay for what she’s done, you can count on that.
Lady Elara Thorn: I want you to dedicate at least two soldiers to finding Lily, and dragging her back alive!
Thorn: Thorn nods, his mind already working on the logistics of the hunt. Consider it done. I’ll have our best trackers on her trail by dawn.
Lady Elara Thorn: And by the gods, do something about your flatulence. I can smell it from over here!
Thorn: Thorn smiles sheepishly, trying to hide his embarrassment. Apologies, m’lady. I’ve been eating a lot of beans lately. I’ll try to… vent away from the castle.
Lady Elara Thorn: What would you think of me if I started farting right here in the throne room?
Thorn: Thorn winces, imagining the scenario and finding it both amusing and horrifying. I… I suppose it wouldn’t be very fitting for a lady of your station, no.
Lady Elara Thorn: It’s also unsightly for the captain of my guard to shit himself in my presence! In my dreams, I still see you with your pants down and your ass smeared in shit!
Thorn: Thorn’s face is a portrait of mortification, his cheeks burning with the memory of his humiliation. I… I know. And I’m deeply ashamed of that. It won’t happen again, I swear it.
Lady Elara Thorn: Next time that happens, I shall force you to lap at the spilled shit until my floors shine!
Thorn: Thorn chuckles darkly, only half-joking about the grim punishment. Aye, you could do that. Or you could just chop off my head and be done with it.
Lady Elara Thorn: I could also do just that, yes. Don’t know what would be preferable given the circumstances.
Thorn: Thorn shrugs, a wry twist to his lips as he contemplates his potential fate. Well, if it comes down to it, I’d rather keep my head. But I know I’ve got it coming, one way or another.
Lady Elara Thorn: Lady Elara rubs her brow. I suppose that’s all for today. I heard there’s a new batch of prisoners in the dungeons, and I’m itching to get some flogging and nipple-clamping done.
Thorn: Thorn raises an eyebrow at the thought of Lady Elara’s tortured entertainment, but keeps his opinion to himself. Sounds like a fun afternoon for you, m’lady. I’ll leave you to it then.
Lady Elara Thorn: Just a reminder, though: don’t find yourself in my dungeons.
Thorn: Thorn bows his head, a hint of a smirk on his lips at the darkly humorous warning. I’ll do my best to stay on your good side, m’lady.
Lady Elara Thorn: Alright, you can leave. And don’t you dare fart on your way out!
Thorn: Thorn clutches at his stomach, feeling the rumble of impending flatulence, and hurries to exit before he can embarrass himself further. I’ll… I’ll do my best to hold it in, m’lady.
Thorn: Shit, when I heard someone was thieving and pickpocketing, I should have figured it was you!
Scorpia: Hey, don’t act so high and mighty, Thorn. Every street rat’s gotta eat, y’know? Or maybe you’re forgettin’ your days outside the fancy castle walls?
Thorn: I wasn’t as wild as you are, Scorpia. You’re almost feral.
Scorpia: Scorpia’s eyes narrow as she spits out her words, venom in her tone. And what’s wrong with bein’ wild, huh? It’s kept me alive this far, despite all the bastards tryin’ their best to use me up like some cheap plaything. You ain’t seen the kind of shit I’ve had to deal with, you self-righteous fuck!
Thorn: I’m part of the law here. I gotta put an end to thievery. Even a piece of turd like you understands that.
Scorpia: Scorpia leans in closer to Thorn, her voice dripping with cynical disdain. Oh right, the law. Whoever’s got the biggest stick and the shiniest badge gets to decide what’s right and wrong? Pah! Life taught me that the only law that matters is the one you make for yourself. If that means skinnin’ a few purses to keep breathin’, then so be it. You come at me with your fancy ‘law’, I’ll show you how little it means out here in the real world, you sanctimonious arsehole!
Thorn: You want to end up in prison again? Is that it?
Scorpia: Scorpia cackles at the thought of going back to prison, clearly not intimidated in the slightest. Prison? You think I’m scared of that place? It’s like a damn holiday compared to the streets. At least they feed you on a regular schedule and don’t leave you shiverin’ in the rain. But you know what, Thorn? I ain’t goin’ back there. You’ll have to catch me first, and I’m slicker than a greased-up pig, you fat bastard!
Thorn: Hey, I may have put on some weight, but that’s no reason to be disrespectful.
Scorpia: Scorpia hoots with laughter, possessed by a wicked glee at Thorn’s discomfort. Oh, Poor little piggy. Your feewings hurt? Boo hoo. Why don’t you go cry about it over a plate of roast pork, you gluttonous fuckwit. You ain’t Thickness Magus, got no right to get all prissy about a few jabs at your lardy arse, you pork chop!
Thorn: Damn, I’m getting the urge to abuse the law.
Scorpia: Scorpia leans back with a smirk, clearly unafraid of Thorn’s threats and ready to take him on. Oh, I’m shakin’ in my boots. You really think you’re hard enough to shut me up, you pudgy peacekeeper? Go on then, big man, give it your best shot. Just remember, there ain’t no law in the land that can keep me from runnin’ my mouth, you inconsistent ball of lard!
Thorn: Inconsistent?! Now I’ve had it! Thorn grabs and twists Scorpia’s arm to force the shackles on her. Cooperate, unless you want to get kneed in the groin!
Scorpia: Scorpia yelps as Thorn grabs and twists her arm, but resigns herself to being shackled. Her eyes promise retaliation in the near future. Fucking hell, Thorn! You’re really gonna do this? You’re gonna haul me in over a few measly swipes and auby-mouthin’? Cooperation’s gotta work both ways, sugar, and I ain’t one to play nice. But fine, you’ve caught your little thief. You must be so damn proud. Just remember, this ain’t the end, you know. You think these shackles can keep Scorpia down? You’ll see, you blundering brute!
Thorn: With Scorpia shackled, Thorn rummages through her pockets for thieved items. What the hell is this? A dildo?!
Scorpia: Scorpia grins wickedly as Thorn discovers her more… unconventional loot, teasing him mercilessly about it. Oh, that? Just a little somethin’ for lonely nights. What, you thought I’d only swipe shiny baubles and coin? Heh, variety is the spice of life, baby. Or maybe you’re just jealous cause it’s bigger than what you’re packin’, you fat fuck!
Thorn: You’d use a second-hand dildo?! You sick cunt!
Scorpia: Scorpia rolls her eyes, dismissing Thorn’s pearl-clutching with a scoff. Oh, come off it, Thorn. It’s not like I’m plannin’ on usin’ it in front of you, you prudish twat. Besides, you’re one to talk about bein’ sick. You’d haul a woman off to jail over petty theft, but you’ll clutch your pearls at the sight of a sex toy? Please, spare me your hypocritical outrage, you self-righteous numpty!
Thorn: At least buy a new one instead of infecting yourself with some stranger’s STDs, is all I’m sayin’.
Scorpia: Scorpia leers at Thorn with a suggestive wink, taunting him for his concern over her sexual health. Oh, ain’t you considerate all of a sudden? Worried about my hoo-ha health, are you, Thorn? That’s sweet. No, really. It’s so touchin’ that between draggin’ me off to lockup and whinin’ about your delicate sensibilities, you still care about what happens to my lady parts. Don’t worry, darlin’, I know how to take care of myself. Would you like some pointers, hmm, maybe help you out with that pent-up frustration?
Thorn: Are you suggesting that I abuse your lady parts during my shift?!
Scorpia: Scorpia grins naughtily, enjoying the scandalous direction the conversation has taken, baiting Thorn for his outrage. Whoa, slow down, tiger! I ain’t suggestin’ nothin’ of the sort. But if that’s what you’re into, darlin’, I can make it worth your while… Though somethin’ tells me you’d be all talk and no action, like most bloated blowhards. Just sayin’, you ever decide you wanna take a walk on the wild side, I’ll be around. Might be fun to see how many laws we can break at once!
Thorn: Shit, you’re a freak. It ain’t worth booking you. Thorn unlocks Scorpia’s shackles.
Scorpia: Scorpia rubs her wrists where the shackles had been, already plotting how to use this momentary reprieve to her advantage. Well, well, well, look who just cracked the fuckin’ code! You ain’t so bad after all… for a law-abidin’ pansy. So, tell me, sugar, what’s it gonna take to keep my pretty face out of the slammer from here on out? We can work somethin’ out, Thorn, ol’ buddy, ol’ pal. I’m sure we can come to an arrangement, find the middle ground between your precious laws and my itchy pockets. What do you say, big guy?
Thorn: Yes, we can come to an agreement that will keep you out of the slammer: stop thieving, you cunt!
Scorpia: Scorpia leans in closer, her smirk full of cunning and implication as she proposes her little bargain to Thorn. Hold on there, darlin’, I never said nothin’ about stoppin’ my purse-skinnin’ operation. That’s my bread and butter you’re talkin’ about! But hey, I’ve got other skills too, you know. Let’s say I work off my… debts’ with you, Thorn. Maybe I could be your eyes and ears in the streets, give you intel on the real bad guys. I scratch your back, you keep your lock-pickin’ mitts off me. Everybody wins, right?
Thorn: Are there people out there worse than you?
Scorpia: Scorpia counts off the various depravities she’s witnessed with a knowing look, clearly enjoying the shocked expression on Thorn’s face. Oh, honey, you have no idea the kinds of things I’ve seen out there. Guys who’d sooner slit your throat than look at you. Chummy fellas runnin’ schemes that’d make your pockets itch. And don’t even get me started on the witches, stuff of kids’ nightmares they are. So yeah, trust me when I say there’s plenty of folks out here who’d make me look like a fuckin’ saint. Lend me your ear for a while, I’ll give you all the juicy deets. Just think of all the praise you’ll get when you haul them in…
Thorn: That sounds nice. When I haul you in, everyone at the station complains about having to deal with your sorry ass.
Scorpia: Scorpia smiles slyly as she continues to bargain with Thorn, playing up the potential benefits for him in her own sly way. Aw, Thorn, you’re breakin’ my heart here. All those tough guys cryin’ about hittin’ the Scorpia jackpot? Boo-hoo! But if you want them kissin’ your ass instead of whinin’ about what a handful I am, then I say let’s make a deal. My street know-how for your promise to keep your goons off my back. You’ll be the hero who brought in the big bad wolf… or the sly lil’ fox, as the case may be! You scratch mine, I’ll scratch yours, darlin’. Whaddya say?
Thorn: I haven’t retained a single word you said, but I guess it’s better to make a deal with you if that means you will annoy me less.
Scorpia: Scorpia grins triumphantly, clearly pleased with the deal she’s managed to strike with Thorn. She claps him on the back in a comradely fashion. Hey, that’s the spirit! I knew we could come to an understandin’, you and me. So it’s settled, then? You’ll keep your boys off my tail, and I’ll keep you in the loop on all the really juicy shit goin’ down out there. Heaven knows you need someone like me to keep you informed. Just remember, darlin’, you scratch my back, and I’ll scratch yours. Ain’t no one in this town gonna be left itchin’, you savvy?
Thorn: Who raised you, Scorpia? I have a good idea you’re an orphan, but did you grow up in the crew quarters of some gods-forsaken pirate ship or something?
Scorpia: Oh, charming. You’re gonna get all up in my business now, are you? Fine, you really wanna know where little ol’ Scorpia came from? Picture this: a place where the stench of fish guts and unwashed bodies is thicker than the fog comin’ off the river. Where the only family you’ve got are the strays and cutpurses willing to show you the ropes. You learn quick or you don’t learn at all, and the only law that matters is the one you make up as you go along. So yeah, I’m an orphan, raised on the same thing that raised all of us in this shithole, honey: the school of hard knocks, the university of broken dreams. You think I had some tender mama bird to tuck me in at night and sing me lullabies? If there’s one thing this world’s taught me, it’s that you only get what you can take, and you better learn to take a lot if you don’t want to end up as garbage in the gutter. So yeah, maybe I didn’t have no family, but I reckon I turned out just fine, all things considered. What about you, Thorn? You got some sob story about how you ended up bein’ a law dog, or was it just your callin’ in life to be a smug, self-righteous dick?
Thorn: I’m just a tough man who prefers to knock people over the head than care about them. Plenty of room in the law business for folks like me.
Scorpia: Scorpia nods along with Thorn’s words, understanding the sentiment all too well from her own experiences. She seems to be warming up to Thorn a bit, sensing a kindred spirit of sorts. Ain’t that the truth, sugar. It’s a tough world out there, and sometimes you gotta be tougher to survive. So, you’re sayin’ you just like crackin’ skulls and tellin’ folks what to do, then? Damn, you really are a natural at this whole law thing, ain’tcha? I can respect that. Mayhap you ain’t so bad after all, Thorn. Sure as hell beat bein’ soft and gettin’ stomped on by every passing brute. We all got our ways of dealin’ with this world, I guess. Question is, what’s our way together, hmm?
Thorn: My way is the direction of the nearest tavern. I gotta guzzle a few down, hit the shitter, then wonder what horrors I’m going to have to deal with the rest of this week.
Scorpia: Scorpia grins and slaps Thorn on the shoulder, clearly feeling a sense of camaraderie with him. She suggests grabbing drinks together like old friends. Damn, Thorn, you’re startin’ to sound like my kinda guy! Drinkin’, shittin’, and bracin’ for impact, huh? Not a bad way to live, if you ask me. Gets the blood flowin’ and keeps life interestin’. So, how about you and me head over to the nearest pub and swap war stories over a few pints, huh? I’ll even spot you for the first round, consider it a professional courtesy. Whaddya say, partner?
Thorn: Sure, let’s head there together. But keep your grabby hands outta my pockets.
Scorpia: Scorpia laughs with a mischievous glint in her eye, clearly enjoying the idea of getting Thorn drunk and seeing where the night takes them. She playfully nudges him as they walk. Oh, don’t you worry, darlin’, I’ll keep my mitts to myself… for now. But if you start buyin’ me drinks, who knows what kinda liberties I might take! Heh heh! Kidding, Thorn, kidding! Mostly. One thing you’ll learn about me, I can be a right handful… but I ain’t never crossed a partner once we got an understandin’. You and me, we’ll raise a few glasses, tell a few tales, and when we’re through, we’ll see what other kinds of trouble we can stir up together. Life’s too damn short not to live a little!
Thorn: Thorn bows in front of his employer and liege, Lady Elara Thorn. Milady, I want you to meet someone of importance.
Lady Elara Thorn: Lady Elara Thorn leans back in her seat, studying Thorn with a calculating gaze. Very well, Thorn. Bring them forth. Let’s see what kind of ‘importance’ you’ve managed to stumble upon this time.
Thorn: Thorn gestures toward Scorpia, who is standing some steps behind. This one’s an orphan named Scorpia, now in her mid-thirties. She grew up in the streets, and has been surviving by committing petty thievery and pickpocketing.
Lady Elara Thorn: Lady Elara Thorn’s eyes narrow as she appraises Scorpia coldly. Another stray dog from the streets, Thorn? I’m not running a charity here.
Thorn: When I shackled her and rummaged through her pockets to see what she had stolen that day, I pulled out a dildo.
Lady Elara Thorn: Lady Elara Thorn’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise, a hint of amusement flickering across her face. A what?!
Thorn: A dildo, milady, is an implement made of rubber or metal, in the shape of a penis, used by women to pleasure themselves.
Lady Elara Thorn: Lady Elara Thorn chuckles darkly, her eyes glinting with sadistic intrigue. Well, well, well. It seems this little thief has some interesting proclivities.
Thorn: Yes. Scorpia over here fucks herself with second-hand dildos!
Lady Elara Thorn: Lady Elara Thorn leans forward, a cruel smirk playing on her lips. Is that so? How desperately pathetic. But nonetheless, it might provide some… amusement.
Thorn: Yes. I considered it was a matter of importance to bring such a degenerate over, so the ruler of our lands may rejoice about it.
Lady Elara Thorn: Lady Elara Thorn rises from her seat, circling Scorpia, studying her intently. Degenerate or not, it seems this Scorpia has managed to survive in this harsh world using her wits, fucked up as they may be.
Thorn: Scorpia, don’t you have anything to say for yourself?!
Scorpia: Scorpia crosses her arms defiantly, glaring at Lady Elara Thorn with a mix of disdain and challenge. Hey now, I don’t need to explain myself to some uptight bitch in a fancy dress. I do what I gotta do to survive, just like anyone else in this shithole.
Lady Elara Thorn: Lady Elara Thorn’s eyes flash with anger, but a hint of admiration gleams beneath the surface. You’ve got quite the mouth on you, don’t you? In my keep, that kind of attitude will get you nowhere fast.
Scorpia: Scorpia smirks, unfazed by Lady Elara Thorn’s intimidating presence. Yeah, well, my mouth has gotten me this far, hasn’t it? Besides, I’ve dealt with worse than you, your highness.
Lady Elara Thorn: Lady Elara Thorn leans in close to Scorpia, her voice low and menacing. Is that so? Well, I’ll give you a chance to prove your worth here. But so help me, if you step out of line, you’ll wish you never set foot in my keep. Lady Elara Thorn fixes both Thorn and Scorpia with a stern, commanding gaze before turning to leave, her cape swishing behind her. Keep your little thief under control, Thorn. And as for you, Scorpia, you’d better behave yourself or you’ll find out just how unpleasant life in my dungeons can be.
Thorn: Yes, Scorpia. We’re talking flogging and nipple-clams level of unpleasant. And that’s the milder stuff.
Scorpia: Scorpia rolls her eyes, brushing off Thorn’s warning with a cavalier attitude. Nipple-clams? What the fuck are those? Listen here, Thorn, I ain’t afraid of a little pain. Done worse to myself on a Tuesday night, y’know?
Thorn: Sorry, that was a slip of the tongue. I meant nipple-clamps. As in clamps that close around your nipples real tight.
Scorpia: Scorpia cackles, her eyes glinting with a mix of mischief and bravado. Oh, is that all? Thought you were talkin’ about some kinda rare seafood or somethin’. Bring ’em on, I’ll wear ’em as earrings.
Thorn: That doesn’t sound pleasant, having some device clamping your nipples.
Scorpia: Scorpia shrugs, her face twisting into a lewd grin. Pleasant? Who said anything about pleasant? I’ve had worse things pinching my nipples, if you catch my drift. Pain’s just another part of life, ain’t it?
Thorn: Want to explain what “worse things” you had pinching your nipples, Scorpia?
Scorpia: Scorpia’s eyes darken briefly, a flicker of pain and anger crossing her face before she quickly masks it with a sneer. Well, let’s just say I’ve had my fair share of run-ins with some real bastards over the years. Some of ’em liked to get a bit… creative, if you know what I mean.
Thorn: What the fuck have you gotten yourself into, thief?
Scorpia: Scorpia bristles, her pride stung by Thorn’s tone of concern. Hey, don’t look at me like that. I ain’t no delicate flower, yeah? I’ve survived this long by bein’ tough as nails and learnin’ how to handle myself.
Thorn: Well, sorry for telling you I was bringing you to a tavern, only for you to end up at my liege’s keep so I could reveal your dildo habits.
Scorpia: Scorpia pokes Thorn’s chest with an accusing finger, her voice rising in indignation. You’re damn right, you better be sorry! I thought we had an understanding, Thorn. Next time, how about you actually consult me before draggin’ me into some fancy lady’s castle, huh?
Thorn: But isn’t it funnier if I don’t tell you beforehand?
Lady Elara Thorn: Lady Elara Thorn interjects, her voice dripping with sarcasm as she crosses her arms over her chest. Oh, I see you two are quite the comedy duo now. Very amusing.
Thorn: Oh, I apologize, milady. I didn’t realize you were listening in to our conversation.
Lady Elara Thorn: Lady Elara fixes Thorn with a piercing stare, her voice laced with icy authority. Of course I was listening, you fool. Do you really think I would allow privacy in my own keep? Your conversations are my conversations.
Thorn: Thorn lets out a nervous fart. I do apologize if anything in our dialogue bothered you, my liege.
Scorpia: Scorpia rolls her eyes dramatically, fanning the air in front of her nose as she tries to waft away the smell. Oh, for fuck’s sake, Thorn! Could you not have held that in? We’re in a lady’s presence, for god’s sake!
Lady Elara Thorn: Lady Elara Thorn wrinkles her nose in disgust, holding a delicately embroidered handkerchief over her face. Ugh, Thorn, have you no self-control? Get that stench out of my sight before I lose my patience.
Thorn: Does it stink that bad, Scorpia?
Lady Elara Thorn: Lady Elara Thorn casts a withering glare at Thorn, her lips curled in contempt. It’s not just the smell, you nitwit. It’s the utter lack of decorum and respect that astounds me. You’re a disgrace, Thorn.
Thorn: Thorn lowers his head. It’s a genetic condition inherited from my mother.
Lady Elara Thorn: Lady Elara Thorn’s voice is cold, her eyes glinting with a dangerous edge. Save your excuses for someone who gives a damn, Thorn. I don’t care if it’s some sort of condition or not. You embarrass me in front of our guests, and you will pay for it.
Thorn: How shall I pay for it, milady?
Lady Elara Thorn: Lady Elara Thorn smirks, enjoying the sight of Thorn squirming in anxiety. Perhaps a night in the dungeons will help you reflect on your behavior, Thorn.
Thorn: In… the flogging and nipple-clamping dungeon?
Lady Elara Thorn: Lady Elara Thorn takes a step closer to Thorn, her voice dropping to a menacing whisper. Would you prefer it, Thorn? Would that get you to control yourself better?
Thorn: Thorn farts.
Scorpia: Scorpia leaps back from Thorn, pinching her nose shut and giving him a look of pure exasperation. Oh, for the love of… Thorn, do you have a death wish or something?!
Lady Elara Thorn: Lady Elara Thorn snaps her fingers, her voice ringing with authority as two guards step forward to seize Thorn. Enough of this! Guards, take Thorn to the dungeons. Let him enjoy the company of the rats and the darkness, and when he’s ready to apologize like a man, he can return.
Thorn: Thorn gets dragged away, the heels of his shoes squeaking against the floor. I do apologize for my flatulence, Lady Elara. It’s an intestinal condition.
Scorpia: Scorpia watches Thorn being dragged away, shaking her head in a mix of disbelief and resignation. Intestinal condition my ass! You just can’t keep your shitter under control. Told you this place was gonna be trouble.
Lady Elara Thorn: Lady Elara Thorn turns her attention to Scorpia, her gaze sharp and appraising. As for you, Scorpia, you’ll have a chance to prove your worth here. But don’t forget your place. I can be a generous patron, but my patience has limits. Lady Elara Thorn leans back in her chair, gesturing for Scorpia to take a seat across from her. Now, let’s discuss what skills you bring to the table, Scorpia. We have little use for petty thieves, but if you have any other talents, I’m all ears.
Scorpia: Scorpia sits up a bit straighter, a glint of pride in her eyes as she lists off her skills. Well, I’m not gonna lie, your highness. Thievin’ and pickpocketin’ are my main talents. But I ain’t just some two-bit crook, y’know? I got street smarts, I can blend in with the riffraff, and I can get info outta people like nobody’s business.
Lady Elara Thorn: A slow, calculating smile spreads across Lady Elara Thorn’s face as she considers Scorpia’s words. Interesting. Very interesting. So you think you could be of use to me as, what, a spy maybe? I could see that. There are always people plotting and scheming, both inside and outside these walls. Someone with your particular talents could be quite… useful. Lady Elara Thorn’s voice takes on a hard, dangerous edge, her eyes narrowing in warning. But let’s be clear, Scorpia. If I take you under my wing, you answer to me. Your loyalty is to me, and me alone. If I catch wind of you double-crossing or selling my secrets… well, let’s just say you won’t enjoy the consequences.
Scorpia: Scorpia meets Lady Elara Thorn’s gaze head-on, her voice firm and unwavering. Hey, I may be a thief, but I ain’t no rat. You take me in, you got my word I’ll be loyal. Double-crossin’ ain’t my style.
Lady Elara Thorn: Lady Elara Thorn rises from her seat, towering over Scorpia as she extends her hand in a firm handshake. Very well then. We have an agreement. I’ll set you up with some quarters and see about getting you some proper training. But remember, Scorpia, I’m taking a chance on you. Don’t make me regret it.
Scorpia: Yikes. The one, the legend, Ilyana Blackthorn, here in the market. Just my luck!
Ilyana Blackthorn: Ilyana Blackthorn stares menacingly. Get lost before I make your luck turn for the worse.
Scorpia: Didn’t want to bother you, miss Blackthorn. I sure ain’t wondering what got you out of the wilds to browse here at the market.
Ilyana Blackthorn: Ilyana Blackthorn scowls at Scorpia. What’s it to you, pickpocket? I go where I please.
Scorpia: My job is to know things. Little things that happen in the streets, and that most people don’t pay notice to.
Ilyana Blackthorn: Ilyana’s hand drifts threateningly towards her daggers. Your job is about surviving the next five minutes if you keep poking your nose where it doesn’t belong.
Scorpia: I have some information that may interest you, miss Blackthorn. Lady Elara Thorn is looking for you. She has dedicated two soldiers full-time to locate you and Lily, this apparently sweet thing that they believe is clinging to you.
Ilyana Blackthorn: Ilyana’s grip tightens on her dagger’s hilt, her eyes narrowing in suspicion. Threatening me with information about Elara Thorn is a surefire way to end up with a dagger in your gut. Keep talking, but make it worth my while.
Scorpia: Not a threat, no, miss. I prefer my organs inside me, where they ought to be. You see, I’m an informant, and I know things that need knowin’. Lily, that sweet thing, pissed off the ruler of this land, Lady Elara, apparently by pissing on her table and her drinks, so much that Lady Elara would do almost anything to capture and execute her.
Ilyana Blackthorn: Ilyana steps closer, her dagger partially unsheathed and glinting menacingly. Seems like you enjoy running your mouth. What’s your point, rat? Spit it out before my blade does it for you.
Scorpia: Scorpia’s voice drops low and serious, her eyes flicking around the market as she speaks. Fine, you want it straight? A warning from a streetrat to a dangerous warrior. Watch your back, ’cause some dangerous people want you and your little piss factory of a companion hunted down real bad.
Ilyana Blackthorn: Ilyana’s eyes flash with a dangerous glint, her grip on her dagger relaxing slightly. I’ll keep that in mind. But if Lady Elara or her dogs step in my path, they’ll find my blade is far sharper than their teeth.
Scorpia: Well, I’ve exposed myself to your blades enough for a week at the least. I shall now make myself scarce, miss Blackthorn, before my luck runs out completely. Wouldn’t want to overstay my welcome and end up on the wrong end of one of your blades, now would I? Until next time, miss Blackthorn. May your hunting be fruitful and your enemies’ throats, well… You know what they say about the Blackthorn. With a final smirk, Scorpia turns on her heel, her tattered cloak swishing as she saunters off into the crowded market, her voice trailing behind her.
Ilyana Blackthorn: Ilyana watches Scorpia disappear into the crowd, her expression unreadable, her grip on her dagger white-knuckled. See that it is, streetrat. The next time we cross paths, I may not be so merciful.
Thorn: General Kara, I’ve had a chat with Lady Elara Thorn regarding the Lily and Ilyana Blackthorn situation, those troublemakers who our liege wants desperately to be captured.
Kara: Kara leans back in her chair, a smirk playing on her lips. Oh, those two little vixens? What’s Elara offering for their heads on a pike this time?
Thorn: Lady Elara is not playing around anymore. She threw me in the dungeon for farting in her presence. She has decided that two soldiers must be on duty to find Lily, and by extension Ilyana, daily.
Kara: Kara chuckles darkly, knowing full well how temperamental Elara can be. Ha! I bet that wasn’t the only thing you threw in her presence. But alright, I’ll get some of my best trackers on it. For a price, of course.
Thorn: General Kara, I need to… Thorn looks down with a grim expression.
Kara: Kara narrows her eyes, sensing the shift in Thorn’s demeanor. Spit it out, Thorn. I don’t have all day.
Thorn: Thorn looks back up, fixing his gaze on Kara. I was in the room when Lily caused her… disturbance. She climbed onto Lady Elara’s table, peed all over it, including our mugs of ale, and a little bit later, she tackled Lady Elara to the ground.
Kara: Kara slams her fist on the table, laughing uproariously at the mental image. Haha! Oh, that’s fucking priceless! I wish I could’ve seen the look on Elara’s face. But I’m guessing she didn’t take too kindly to that little display…
Thorn: She took it even worse when Lily pinned Elara to the ground and pushed our liege’s eyeballs with her thumbs against their eye sockets.
Kara: Kara shakes her head, still chuckling but with a hint of concern in her voice. Good gods, the girl’s got guts! But she’s also got a death wish. Elara’s not gonna let that slide.
Thorn: Elara, of course, got her mages to fix her eyes, and she’s fully cured. However, General Kara, I… didn’t react.
Kara: Kara leans forward, her brow furrowed in confusion and annoyance. Didn’t react? What do you mean? Did you just stand there like a fucking statue?
Thorn: I did just stand there like a fucking statue. Or like a fucking moron, like Lady Elara put it.
Kara: Kara leans back in her chair, taking a swig from her mug as she ponders the situation. Well, shit. You’re lucky Elara didn’t have you thrown in the dungeons permanently. Or worse.
Thorn: She did throw me in the dungeons for a night. I got my genitals tortured, as well as my nipples clamped. It wasn’t pretty, I assure you.
Kara: Kara’s lips twitch with a sardonic smile, though there’s a glint of sympathy in her eyes. Fucking hell, Thorn. You really know how to piss off the wrong people. But hey, at least you got to experience the tender loving care of Elara’s torturers. That’s something, right?
Thorn: I know now that I don’t want to be tortured again. It’s very unpleasant.
Kara: Kara chuckles, though it’s clear she’s trying to lighten the mood. No shit. Torture’s not exactly a fucking picnic. But you know what they say, pain is just weakness leaving the body.
Thorn: Well, there was a lot of weakness leaving my body. And it didn’t help that I kept farting throughout the torture.
Kara: Kara grins, shaking her head in amusement. Haha! I bet that just made the torturers’ day. Nothing like a little flatulence to add to the ambiance.
Thorn: All that flatulence only motivated that bastard more.
Kara: Kara snickers, taking another swig from her mug. Well, can’t say I blame him. If I had to listen to your ass trumpeting like a goddamn elephant, I’d be motivated to make you shut up too.
Thorn: It’s a serious condition, all this farting. I think there must be something rotten in my intestine lining or something.
Kara: Kara rolls her eyes, a smirk playing on her lips. Or maybe you just need to lay off the beans, Thorn. But hey, if you want to play the martyr, who am I to stop you?
Thorn: I do love beans, though. My favorite meal.
Kara: Kara chuckles, trying to hide her amusement behind her mug. Well, I guess you’ll just have to suffer for your love of beans. But maybe it’s time to diversify your diet. I hear carrots are lovely this time of year.
Thorn: Perhaps I hate myself, General. That’s why I keep stuffing myself with beans even though it leads to thunderous flatulence.
Kara: Kara grins, leaning forward conspiratorially. If that’s the case, then you’re doing a pretty good job of it. But self-loathing and beans kinda go hand in hand, don’t they?
Thorn: Anyway, back on track… Regarding me standing around like a moron while Lily was shoving her thumbs into Lady Elara’s eyes… What’s your opinion about that?
Kara: Kara shrugs, her expression serious but not unsympathetic. My opinion? You fucked up, plain and simple. But it’s not the end of the world. Just don’t let it happen again, or Elara might decide to do more than just torture your balls.
Thorn: No, my point is… Why did I do that?
Kara: Kara leans back, studying Thorn’s face intently. Why? That’s a fucking loaded question. Maybe you froze up, or maybe you secretly wanted to see Elara get taken down a peg. Who knows? But if you want my advice, don’t overthink it. Shit happens, move on.
Thorn: I suspect that I wanted Lady Elara to go blind, and maybe I thought, ‘Shit, better this kid Lily doing it than me.’
Kara: Kara’s eyes narrow, a hint of intrigue in her voice. Well, aren’t you just full of surprises? But listen, if you want Elara out of the picture, there are better ways to go about it than letting a kid do your dirty work.
Thorn: I don’t know if I want Elara out of the picture. I mean, who would want to rule this gods-forsaken place? She’s good at it.
Kara: Kara shrugs, taking another swig from her mug. Fair enough. But if you’re gonna be her lapdog, you better start barking when she needs you to. Otherwise, you’re just a liability.
Thorn: But Lily, that kid, I don’t blame her for peeing in my mug of ale. She has guts. She escaped into the depths of the forest, got sexually entangled with a horrifying murderer like Ilyana Blackthorn, and convinced that one, who was almost a wild animal, to protect Lily with her life.
Kara: Kara’s brow furrows, considering the situation. Well, color me impressed. That girl’s got some serious balls. But still, she’s causing trouble for Elara, and by extension, for us. We can’t just let her run wild out there.
Thorn: I don’t know if I can bring myself to bring hurt to Lily, or bring her back, General Kara. Even if I’m ordered to do so.
Kara: Kara’s voice is low and serious, her gaze intense. You’re walking a dangerous line, Thorn. I get it, the girl’s got spirit, but you know what happens to those who defy Elara. If she orders you to bring Lily in, you better fucking do it, or else you’ll be the one in the dungeons again. Or worse.
Thorn: Do you suggest that I quit? This life is all I know.
Kara: Kara leans forward, her expression stern but not unkind. Quit? What, and leave all this excitement behind? Not a chance. But listen, you’re gonna have to make a choice soon. Are you with Elara, or are you against her? Because straddling the fence is gonna get you nowhere fast.
Thorn: Thorn wipes the sweat off his face. You’re right, General. You’re the voice of reason as always. And a damn good listener.
Kara: Kara smirks, leaning back in her chair with a satisfied grunt. Damn right I am. But don’t go spreading that around, or I’ll have to live up to my reputation as a hardass.
Thorn: Thorn salutes. Well, I shall leave you to your matters. As mentioned, two soldiers should be on duty hunting down Lily and Ilyana every day, as Lady Elara ordered. Any complaints about that, well, I suppose should go straight to our wise ruler.
Kara: Kara’s expression is grim, her eyes flashing with a hint of menace. Elara’s call, not mine. But if those two girls cause any trouble for my soldiers, they’ll have me to answer to. And trust me, that’s not a conversation they want to have.
Thorn: Don’t underestimate Ilyana. That one always reaches for her blades, even when a child greets her. She’s always ready to murder. If anything, she has to be convinced not to kill whoever is dealing with her.
Kara: Kara shrugs, her expression nonchalant but her eyes watchful. I’ve dealt with plenty of bloodthirsty assholes before. I’m not too worried about some knife-happy bitch. But I appreciate the warning.
A couple of days ago, I must have been having a really bad, anxiety-filled dream at about five in the morning, because I lunged forward only to find the wall in my way. I banged my head hard enough that I ended up with a bruise. That side of my head still feels weird.
I don’t know if that episode meant anything. Today I’ve gotten through an absolutely awful Monday for which I was already exhausted when it started. I’m close to finishing the replacement of about 940 printers in the hospital complex where I work, an operation that has made me consider going on a medical leave for depression a couple of times, not to mention fantasize about quitting or just never returning to this job. Last week, my boss told me that he wanted to put me in charge, along with another coworker, of replacing every single computer in the hospital complex. That’s about five times if not more the amount of printers. He had the gall to say that, after all, the whole deal of replacing the printers wasn’t that big of a task. Containing myself, I said, “No, it has been an utter nightmare.” Nothing will stop my boss from forcing me to replace all the computers unless I’m not employed there, so my fantasizing about not working as an IT guy at a hospital has multiplied.
It’s not just the act of replacing the printers: anything printer related gets sent my way. This last week we’ve had a pandemonium at the ER because the printers worked intermittently, and we discovered that something is wrong with the membership of some active directory groups, it seems just for a few groups of printers in the ER as far as we have detected. Well, I had the bigwigs at the ER berating me, suggesting that nothing of that kind happened before we changed the printers. The matter remains unresolved. There are lingering issues, not like that one, but that I dread listening about almost every day, because I have no idea how to solve them, and nobody can help. I want to quit and not work for a long, long while. Hopefully for the rest of my life, but obviously that isn’t feasible.
When my shift ends, I take a bus, then a train, then another bus home. Society has turned into a zoo, and it gets worse by the year. A few days ago I was thinking about the detachment I have felt for many years about the place I live in, and this world in general, and I’ve gotten to the conclusion that after you reached a point in which only your cowardice stopped you from dying, and afterwards you’ve yearned so many times to go to sleep and not wake up again, you exist in a different plane than the vast majority of human beings. I don’t understand how my coworkers relate to each other, or care about each others’ stuff, or organize plans and outings and such in their private lives. Most months I do the same stuff. When I go out, I usually walk to some solitary places in the woods nearby, because there’s nothing else for me out there. And what used to be a haven has also become tainted, but I don’t want to go into details. It just makes me angry.
I got my fantasies, of course. I survive thanks to daydreaming, some purely mind-based and some applied, plenty of them sexual. There’s also the works of art of other people, who are usually Japanese. Give me another derivative story about some isekai-d guy getting kicked out of a band of adventurers, and then delving into dungeons on his own to get stronger, and I’m as happy as I can be. Often I’ve been on the verge of losing my stop on the train because of how easily I disappear into such stories. I’ve honestly fantasized about getting hit by a truck, because at least that would be an ironic death for someone like me. I would die with a smile on my face, thinking of the zany adventures I’d have in another world.
Maybe I’m depressed again, who knows. I’m certainly disoriented, generally out of it, lethargic, on the verge of imploding at times. I feel like I’m operating on a regular basis at the edge of my capabilities as a human being for no real reward other than money, that every passing day is worth less. And I’ve started to worry about my the state of my brain, because I feel that it’s deteriorating. Something feels wrong. It doesn’t help that my eyes have been acting up for a while; sometimes when I whip my gaze around, I get flashes of darkness. I had a campimetry done a month or so ago, and the doctor told me that the results were odd. They put me up for another check-up in six months. The only thing related to my optic nerves that I know could be an issue is the pituitary tumor with which I was born or that I developed as a child; but I take chronic medication for it, without which the tumor may grow enough to press against the optic nerve. I don’t know much other than the fact that I don’t feel right. Most days, just walking around feels like a struggle in the sense that I’m so out of it that I may end up bumping into people without noticing, and it doesn’t seem like it’s getting better.
There’s a quote from Ham on Rye, Bukowski’s best book, that says “I felt like sleeping for five years but they wouldn’t let me.” That’s how I’ve felt most of my life, and I feel it very acutely these days. Anyway, I’m going to bed, to lose myself in dreams that despite being saturated in anxiety, are still better than my life.
If you’ve paid attention to my site in the last couple of months or so, you’ll know that I’ve disregarded most other obligations, at least in my spare time, to engage in some tomfoolery with LLMs (large language models) through the 2011 game Skyrim. Here’s the latest iteration of that nonsense.
As I was enjoying the ride, a few things kept bothering me. Why couldn’t I have a multi-character conversation, including Alva the vampire, without those people knowing immediately that Alva is a bloodsucker, even though it was supposed to be a secret? That annoyed me enough that I considered how it could be programmed otherwise, so I’ve done so.
This here, neural-narratives, is my public GitHub repo with an implementation of multi-convo conversations in which memories are isolated to the character that has the speaking turn, with no leakage. The way I’ve done it, quite simple, is the following:
That’s it, I guess. It works pretty well. Unfortunately I couldn’t use the as of now best uncensored LLM, because everybody is overloading its servers. So I only use it when summarizing, and otherwise I rely on the 70B uncensored version. And it’s truly uncensored, to the extent that I’m not comfortable putting in here plenty of the conversations I’ve had.
I also wrote a system for the AI to create character profiles based on a few words of guidance from the user, so the AI also surprises you when it comes to putting together people to play around with.
Here are examples of conversations I’ve had (obviously, it saves the dialogues):
One-Eyed Jack: Hey, who goes there?!
Zara: Zara emerges from the shadows, her white hair and pale skin catching the dim light. Just a wanderer passing through. Don’t mind me.
One-Eyed Jack: Who is your… strange-looking companion?
Zara: Zara’s piercing blue eyes regard the small child with a mix of wariness and pity. I don’t have any companions, kid. I travel alone.
One-Eyed Jack: So what, that crazy-looking fellow is just following you?
Zara: She glances back at the wild-haired man with an air of detached indifference. I’m not responsible for the actions of others. If he’s following me, that’s his business.
One-Eyed Jack: Hey, man! Yes, you! Why are you staring at me… like that?!
Screaming Sam: Screaming Sam’s gaze is intense, his voice loud and unpredictable. I LIKE YOUR EYE! IT’S SHINY! DO YOU THINK I COULD BORROW IT? I PROMISE I’LL GIVE IT BACK WHEN I’M DONE!
One-Eyed Jack: One-Eyed Jack steps back. Wh-what’s with all that screaming?
Zara: Zara intervenes, placing herself between Screaming Sam and the child with an air of calm authority. Don’t worry about him, kid. He’s just a bit… excitable. He doesn’t mean any harm.
One-Eyed Jack: So you do know him after all?
Zara: She speaks with a weariness that suggests a long history of encounters in this post-apocalyptic landscape. We’ve crossed paths before, but I wouldn’t say I know him. It’s hard to really know anyone in a world like this.
One-Eyed Jack: You’re strange, Zara. You seem so detached. What’s your story?
Zara: Her icy blue eyes take on a distant look as if gazing into a painful past. My story is long and full of more sorrow than you can imagine, kid. But it’s not something I share lightly. Detachment is a survival mechanism out here.
One-Eyed Jack: I’m willing to listen if you want to share.
Screaming Sam: Sam’s voice rises to a frenzied pitch, his eyes darting around as if seeing threats in every shadow. THERE’S NO TIME FOR STORIES! WE’VE GOT TO KEEP MOVING BEFORE THE MONSTERS COME! OR THE MONSTER HUNTERS! OR THE HUNTED MONSTERS!
One-Eyed Jack: Stop shouting! This area isn’t that dangerous, comparatively.
Zara: She turns to face him, her voice calm and even, a stark contrast to his manic energy. He’s right, Sam. We’re safe enough for now. No need to work yourself into a frenzy.
One-Eyed Jack: One-Eyed Jack rubs his eyelids. I’m getting a headache.
Screaming Sam: Screaming Sam’s wild gestures and loud voice only seem to escalate with each passing moment. I GET HEADACHES TOO! BUT MINE ARE FROM ALL THE VOICES IN MY HEAD! THEY WON’T STOP TALKING! AND SCREAMING! AND SINGING! AND…
One-Eyed Jack: … And what else?
Screaming Sam: Despite the unsettling content of his words, Sam’s manic grin suggests he finds the voices more amusing than alarming. AND THEY WHISPER! AND THEY LAUGH! AND SOMETIMES, THEY EVEN RAP! BUT I DON’T MIND THE RAPPING. IT’S KINDA CATCHY!
One-Eyed Jack: They… rap? Can you be specific about their rap lyrics?
Screaming Sam: He starts to bob his head and move to an unseen beat, lost in his own world. YEAH! THEY SAY THINGS LIKE ‘I’M IN YOUR MIND, NOW IT’S RHYME TIME, YOU’LL NEVER BE FREE, CUZ YOU’RE STUCK HERE WITH ME!’ IT’S A REAL BOP!
One-Eyed Jack: Keep going. We have all the time in the world.
Zara: She shoulders her pack, a look of grim determination settling over her features. Actually, we don’t. We should get moving. Staying in one place too long never ends well out here.
One-Eyed Jack: Damn, I was about to start beatboxing.
Zara: Her gaze is distant, as if looking past the present moment to the countless dangers that lurk just out of sight. Another time, perhaps. For now, we need to focus on survival. The wasteland waits for no one.
One-Eyed Jack: Alright. Is this where we part ways, or can I follow you, particularly you Zara, for extra security?
Zara: She gives the child a pointed look, her expression a mix of pity and hardened realism. If you can keep up, you’re welcome to tag along for a while. Just don’t expect me to be your guardian. Out here, we all have to fend for ourselves.
Eska: Oh, it’s you two.
Whispurr: Whispurr glances between Eska and Rusty Macy with a smirk. Heeeeey Eska. Looks like we keep bumping into each other, huh? Purrs and winks. So are you and that Rusty chick gonna throw down or what? I’d put my caps on you.
Eska: I don’t know, Whispurr. I’m surprised that you’re hanging out with a… lunatic like Rusty Macy.
Whispurr: Whispurr tilts her head, studying Eska with a knowing look. Oh, you know me, Eska. I’m always drawn to the unpredictable ones. They keep life interesting! She grins mischievously. Besides, Rusty and I have our fun… as long as she doesn’t turn those knives on me, hehe. But c’mon, don’t tell me you and her don’t have some kind of history.
Eska: I have history with Rusty Macy, that’s true. It involved Macy trying to plunge those knives into my face.
Whispurr: Whispurr leans in, intrigued by the prospect of juicy gossip. Oooh, kinky! Sounds like a fun time to me. But really, she tried to stab you? Damn, and here I thought I had a monopoly on driving people crazy around here. She smirks. So what’s the story there? Did you steal her favorite knife or something?
Eska: Hey, Rusty Macy! How about you explain yourself?
Rusty Macy: Rusty Macy turns to Eska with a cruel, twisted smile, her eyes gleaming with violent mischief. Explain myself? She cackles maniacally. Oh, I don’t explain anything, honey. I just do what feels good in the moment. And sometimes, what feels good is jamming a rusty blade into someone’s pretty face. She grins wickedly, fondling her knives. Ain’t that right, Eska? You should know all about my cheeky impulses by now.
Eska: I know them. Enough to be sure that someone should lock you in a padded room.
Whispurr: Whispurr gives Rusty Macy a coy, conspiratorial smile, clearly enjoying the rising tension between her and Eska. Whoa there, Eska. Let’s not get too hasty with the crazy talk. I mean, we’re all a little nuts in this wasteland, aren’t we? It’s all about how you channel that energy. She slinks up to Rusty and traces a finger along her arm. Some of us just express it more…intensely than others. Right, Rusty?
Rusty Macy: Rusty Macy reaches out and grabs Whispurr’s arm, her eyes blazing with a wild, unhinged energy. Oh, you wanna lock me up? She throws head back and laughs maniacally. Honestly, I’d love to see you try, sweetheart. Last time someone tried that, they ended up with their intestines as necklaces. Honestly, padded rooms are too boring. I need the freedom to make people squeal when the mood strikes! She turns to Whispurr. You get me, right babe?
Eska: There’s such a thing as evil in this world. And I know you’re not redeemable, Macy.
Whispurr: Whispurr gives Eska a pointed look before turning to Rusty with a playful grin, clearly dismissive of Eska’s moralizing. Evil? Redeemable? She snorts and rolls eyes. Oh please, Eska. Don’t get all high and mighty. In this wasteland, it’s all shades of gray. Rusty here may have some… intense hobbies, but who are we to judge? We’ve all done things to survive. Some are just more fun than others.
Eska: No, there is good and evil. Once we lose those metrics, humanity itself has lost. There are lines I shan’t cross.
Whispurr: Whispurr shakes her head and chuckles, clearly unconvinced by Eska’s moral absolutism. Good and evil, huh? Those are just labels people use to make themselves feel better. The reality is, we’re all just animals in this wasteland, doing what we gotta do to get by. You think I got where I am by clinging to pretty ideals? Nah, honey, it’s all about survival.
Eska: I’m getting the feeling that you yourself, cat-girl, are quite tainted.
Whispurr: Whispurr leans into Rusty, her eyes gleaming with a mischievous, almost predatory light. Tainted? Oh honey, I’m not just tainted. I’m downright filthy! But that’s what makes life so delicious, don’t you think? Embracing the darkness, the chaos? She grins wickedly Sure, I’ve got my own demons, but I’ve made friends with them. She slings an arm around Rusty’s shoulders. Ain’t that right, Rusty babe?
Eska: You two better be careful out here in the wastes. Some people are more eager to dirty their own hands striking down evil than I am.
Whispurr: Whispurr’s eyes flash with an almost feral excitement, clearly relishing the thought of a challenge. Striking down evil? Oh, Eska, always the dramatic one. Honey, if anyone out here was really capable of taking us down, they would’ve tried it by now. Ain’t that right, Rust? We’re survivors. But hey, if some self-righteous do-gooder wants to try their luck, I say bring it on! She licks her lips eagerly. The thrill of the fight is half the fun.
Eska: Eska whirls her bo staff and strikes a menacing pose. Do you two wish to try me?
Whispurr: Whispurr steps back, her tail swishing playfully as she gestures for Rusty to engage with Eska, clearly finding amusement in the impending clash. Try you? She laughs throatily. Oh, Eska, you really are a wildcat, aren’t you? I admire a woman who isn’t afraid to get her paws dirty. But as much as I’d love to play…I think I’ll sit this one out. She winks at Rusty. Rusty here looks like she’s itching for a tussle though. You two have fun, now!
Eska: You’re choosing the mad Macy as your contender, huh? Then let’s have at it, Macy.
Rusty Macy: Rusty Macy lunges at Eska, her knives flashing as she moves in a frenzy of wild, violent slashes, her laughter echoing through the air. Oh, you wanna dance, pretty boy? She cackles delightedly. I thought you’d never ask! Let’s see how long you can prance around when I start slicing off chunks of that perfect skin! She grins maniacally, eyes gleaming. I’ve been waiting for this moment, Eska. Time to make you scream!
Eska: ‘Boy’? Was that your attempt at an insult? I’m a warrior woman, which I shall demonstrate to you, fiend. Eska wields her staff with both hands as she circles Rusty Macy carefully.
Rusty Macy: Rusty Macy’s knives are a blur as she slashes and stabs, her face alight with a sadistic glee, clearly reveling in the chance to unleash her violent urges on her longtime rival. Warrior woman? More like my new flesh puppet! She slashes at Eska ferociously. I’ll carve you up so pretty, you’ll be begging me to end you! She grins savagely, her eyes utterly unhinged. They’ll write songs about this day – the day Rusty Macy skinned Eska alive!
Eska: Argh. Stop babbling! Eska attempts to sweep Rusty Macy’s legs as she lashes at Eska.
Rusty Macy: Rusty Macy moves with a frenzied, almost superhuman energy, her knives flashing in the sunlight as she unleashes a flurry of brutal slashes and stabs, cackling madly with each strike. Babbling? I’m just getting started, baby! She leaps over Eska’s sweeping strike. Ooh, nice try! But you’ll have to do better than that! I’m going to enjoy peeling the flesh from your bones and wearing your intestines like a scarf! She lunges at Eska with terrifying speed, her eyes blazing with bloodlust.
Eska: One of Macy’s rusty knives grazes Eska’s bare shoulder, drawing blood. You have the speed of the unhinged. Pure instinct.
Rusty Macy: Rusty Macy whirls and lashes out, her movements erratic yet deadly, like a force of nature given human form, driven by a singular, savage purpose – to inflict as much pain and suffering as possible. Unhinged? Oh, you have no idea! She licks Eska’s blood off her knife blade. Mmm, tangy! Pure instinct, raw and unfiltered! No pesky morality or conscience to get in the way! She slashes at Eska again. When you let go of all that nonsense, you can truly be free! She laughs maniacally, her eyes wide and crazed.
Eska: Yes, you’re as easy to read as a wild animal! Eska whirls around and strikes Rusty Macy in the chest with her bo staff.
Rusty Macy: Gah! She stumbles back, wheezing. You…hit like a bitch! But I like it! She cackles wetly and charges again. Let’s see how you like a taste of real pain! She slashes at Eska with renewed ferocity, her knives a blur of rusty metal. I’m gonna gut you and wear your skin like a pretty little dress!
Eska: Eska aims repeatedly, with careful strikes, at Macy’s hands, trying to force her to drop her knives.
Rusty Macy: Despite Eska’s precise strikes, Rusty Macy seems to anticipate each blow, her erratic movements making her a frustratingly elusive target as she continues her frenzied assault, her knives seeking Eska’s flesh with undiminished hunger. My hands? Oh, you think you’re so clever, don’t you? She cackles as she ducks and weaves. But these babies are a part of me! Rusty and I, we’re bound by blood and pain! She slashes at Eska with savage glee. You’ll have to do better than that, pretty boy!
Eska: Urgh. I’ll break your spine and hang you for the crows to peck your eye sockets clean!
Rusty Macy: Rusty Macy’s movements become even more frenzied, her slashes and stabs coming at Eska from all angles as she revels in the sadistic imagery of her words, her face twisted into a mask of pure, unadulterated insanity. Break my spine? Oh, that’s so sweet! I knew you were a secret romantic, Eska! But I’ve got a better idea – how about I carve out your liver and feed it to the crows while you watch? She slashes with renewed ferocity, her knives dripping with anticipation. They can have a little picnic right in your empty skull!
Serafina: Heeeya everybody! I’m here!
Shade: Heeeya everybody! I’m here!
Serafina: Was that an echo?
Jinx: Jinx looks around, confused. Was that an echo?
Serafina: Serafina perks her ears. As she stays silent, holding her breath, a fart escapes her.
Rusty Macy: Rusty Macy is surprised by the noise coming from Serafina’s behind, but her face twists with amusement rather than annoyance. She throws her head back and laughs maniacally. Well, shit, that was a ripe one! Sounds like someone’s been eating well in this wasteland. Brings a tear to my eye, it does. Though, I should threaten to gut you like a fish if you don’t shut up. Or maybe I’ll just sit back and enjoy the music you’re making down there, eh?
Serafina: Aaaaagh! It won’t stop! Serafina bends over, and her asshole blasts a green-tinted miasma with a sulphurous stench.
Jinx: Jinx gags and covers her nose, looking horrified by the vile stench coming from Serafina. She stumbles back, trying to get away from the toxic green cloud. What in the actual fuck? Are you shitting me right now? Literally shitting me? Goddamn, it smells like a rotting corpse’s asshole in here! I think I’m gonna puke.
Serafina: H-hey, do you have something that might cure the worst case of the shits that has ever happened?
Jinx: Jinx grimaces, both from the lingering stench and from the mental image of Serafina’s predicament. She looks thoughtful for a moment, considering if any of her alcoholic concoctions could possibly help rather than harm the situation. Fuck if I know! I brew booze, not medicine for your volcanic asshole. Though I guess if you want to get so shit-faced that you can’t feel your own shits anymore, I might have something that’ll do the trick. No promises on not making it worse though.
Serafina: P-please! Anything, as long as it might help! Ooogh, fire is heading down my intestines!
Shade: Shade eyes Serafina appraisingly, weighing the potential risks and benefits of helping her. They reach into their pack, rummaging around until they pull out a small vial of murky liquid. I might have something that can help… but it’s gonna cost you. Nothing’s free in this wasteland, especially not when it comes to medical supplies. So, what’s it worth to you to get that fire in your gut extinguished?
Serafina: I-I’ll do anything, please! I’ll get on my knees and gobble on your cock!
Shade: Shade takes a step back, looking slightly alarmed by Serafina’s desperate offer. They hold up the vial, keeping it just out of reach until Serafina agrees to their terms. Whoa, whoa, whoa! Let’s not get ahead of ourselves here. I don’t want any part of whatever’s going on inside you right now, if you catch my drift. Tell you what, you promise to share some of those supplies from the ruins you were talking about earlier, and we’ll call it even. Deal?
Serafina: Serafina unzips her backpack, showing her loot, then pushes it toward Shade. Please, keep it all! I’m going to explode into shit!
Rusty Macy: Rusty Macy is practically drooling with sadistic glee at the prospect of Serafina’s suffering. She doubles over, howling with laughter. Explosive shits, huh? Oh, this is too fucking good! You’re a real riot, Serafina. I like you. But if you think I’m gonna pass up the chance to watch you paint this place with your own shit, you’re sadly mistaken. Nah, I think I’ll sit back and enjoy the show. Might even join in the fun and carve a new asshole into you myself, see how high-pressure this shit really is!
Shade: Shade steps between Rusty Macy and Serafina, shielding the sick woman with their body. They fix Rusty with a steely gaze, making it clear that they’re not afraid to use the mysterious vial as a weapon if pushed. Alright, that’s enough out of you, Rusty. You’re not gonna touch her, not unless you want a taste of what I’ve got in this vial here. Trust me, it’ll make even your twisted ass think twice about fuckin’ with us. Now, back the hell off and let me help Serafina before she shits herself inside out.
Serafina: Serafina is groaning, shivering, sweating. Aaagh, please…! I’m going to explode out of my holes!
Shade: Shade kneels beside Serafina, offering her the vial of murky liquid. They put a comforting hand on her shoulder, trying to soothe her even as they wrinkled their nose at the lingering stench. Easy now, just try to relax. I know it’s not pleasant, but you need to calm down before you make it worse. Here, drink this. It’ll taste like shit, but trust me, it’ll help.
Serafina: Serafina accepts Shade’s vial, then eagerly gulps it down. Serafina grimaces at the taste, then starts coughing as she shakes.
Jinx: Jinx watches the scene with a mix of disgust and morbid fascination, her eyes darting between Serafina’s writhing form and the now-empty vial in Shade’s hand. She looks thoughtful, already mentally calculating how to use this experience to improve her own concoctions. Fuck me sideways, this is quite the shitshow, ain’t it? And here I thought my brewing accidents were bad. Well, you better hope that mystery juice works, ’cause I sure as hell ain’t got anything stronger to wash it down with. Though, maybe I should start taking notes, might be able to brew something new with all this… inspiration.
Serafina: Aaaah… Aaaah… S-something is w-wrong inside… It’s churning…!
Jinx: Jinx rolls her eyes, her crude sarcasm a poor mask for the genuine concern in her voice. She takes a step closer to Serafina, ready to offer her own brand of rough comfort if needed. No shit, it’s churning! You just chugged fuck-knows-what from some back-alley ‘medic’. What did you expect, sunshine and rainbows? Just try to keep it together, last thing we need is you shitting out your own organs all over the place. Though I guess it’d make quite the conversation piece if you did.
Serafina: AAAUGGHGHGH!! Serafina’s asshole rips open, and a stream of vile, viscous shit shoots like a firehose, splattering everything around her in the most vile shit.
Jinx: Jinx leaps back with a string of curses as she’s splattered with the disgusting slurry, her face twisting with revulsion. She gags, fighting the urge to vomit as the putrid stench hits her full force. Oh what the fuck?! Goddamn it, I just had this jacket cleaned! Ugh, it smells like something died in your ass and then got roasted in hell for a few centuries. Fuck me, I think I’m gonna be sick.
Serafina: Serafina rolls over, her bare ass dripping with shit. Suddenly she lurches and starts vomiting a stream of yellowish goo. Blbbbllelellelb beehhhggh!
Jinx: Jinx dances around the growing puddles of vomit and feces, her face a mask of pure disgust. She glares at Serafina, her threat only semi-serious, as she’s more concerned with avoiding the bodily fluids than actually harming the sick woman. For fuck’s sake, make up your damn mind! In or out, you can’t have it both ways! Though I guess if you’re gonna be a fountain of filth, might as well go all out. Just try not to hit me with that shit again, or I’ll shove my boot so far up your ass, you’ll taste leather for weeks.
Serafina: Serafina’s strength leaves her, and she collapses face-first into a puddle of her vomit, while her asshole keeps sputtering farts.
Jinx: Jinx looks down at Serafina’s prone form, a flicker of pity crossing her face before it’s replaced by her usual mask of sarcastic detachment. She nudges the unconscious woman with her boot, checking for any signs of life, before turning to the others with a jerk of her head, indicating they should leave. Well, shit. Guess that’s one way to go. Can’t say it’s the most dignified way to check out, but hey, in this world, you take what you can get. Still, damn if that isn’t a mood killer. C’mon, let’s get the fuck out of here before the smell makes me puke too.
Finn: H-hey, Thorn, who’s that woman over there?
Thorn: Thorn turns to look at Lily. That’s Lily, a lass I met on the road some time back. She’s had a rough go of it, but she’s got a good heart beneath the hurt. Why do you ask?
Finn: No, I mean that woman who is approaching us!
Thorn: Thorn watches the approaching woman with a wary expression, his posture tensing slightly. Eh, my mistake. I don’t recognize her. In these lands, a stranger can be friend or foe. Rests a hand on his sword hilt. Best be on guard ’til we know which one she is.
Finn: H-hey, you, with the crazed look! What do you want?
Ilyana Blackthorn: Ilyana’s hand drifts to the hilt of a dagger at her hip, fingers tracing the handle in an unsettling caress. Want? She laughs darkly. What I want is to see the life bleed from your eyes as I carve pretty patterns in your flesh. But for now, I’ll settle for a reason not to slit your throat.
Finn: Finn gulps. Thorn, I think this woman is dangerous.
Thorn: Thorn positions himself in a protective stance, watching Ilyana closely for any sudden movements. Aye, caught that much. Easy now, let’s all take a breath before this turns bloody. We don’t want trouble, so how about we start over? I’m Thorn, this is Finn. And you are?
Ilyana Blackthorn: Ilyana’s gaze flicks between Thorn and Finn, her eyes glinting with a dangerous light. Ilyana. Ilyana Blackthorn. She grins wickedly. Trouble seems to follow me, like a loyal hound. But if you’ve got some of the hard stuff to share, I might be persuaded to play nice… for a time.
Finn: H-hard stuff to share? The fuck does that mean?
Thorn: Thorn meets Ilyana’s gaze unflinchingly, his expression hard. She means drink, fool. And we ain’t got any to spare. Look, Ilyana, we’re just passin’ through. No need for this to get ugly, so why don’t you tell us what you’re really after?
Finn: Fool? That was unnecessary.
Ilyana Blackthorn: Ilyana’s fingers tighten on her dagger hilt, her body coiled with predatory tension. What I’m after? Oh, that’s simple. I crave the exquisite music of screams and the crisp, coppery scent of blood in the air. But since you’re not inclined to provide that… I’ll take whatever valuables you’ve got hidden away.
Finn: Y-you think we’ll let you do that? It’s two against one, and Thorn here is a hardened warrior!
Thorn: Thorn’s eyes narrow, his sword glinting in the light as he points it towards Ilyana in a clear warning. You’re barking up the wrong tree if you think we’ll roll over like good little victims. I’ve faced beasts far nastier than you, and I ain’t about to start backin’ down now. Walk away while you still can, Ilyana.
Finn: Y-yeah! Run away with your tail between your legs!
Ilyana Blackthorn: Ilyana’s eyes blaze with a sadistic light, her body poised to strike with serpentine speed. Oh, but I do love a challenge. And overconfidence makes the toasted flesh of cocky bastards all the sweeter to feast upon. She draws multiple daggers. Let’s see how loud I can make you squeal when I start carving.
Finn: Y-you’re also a cannibal?!
Thorn: Thorn steadies himself, ready to meet Ilyana’s attack head-on with a determined snarl on his scarred face. Doesn’t surprise me none. Looks like we’re doing this the hard way then. Brace yourself, Finn, this one’s gonna be a nasty fight. But we ain’t goin’ down easy.
Thorn: Thorn, having been granted audience, approaches the throne of Lady Elara, and bows deferentially. Your highness, I have an important report to make.
Lady Elara Thorn: Lady Elara Thorn sits up, her eyes narrowing as she regards Thorn. Report, servant. And it better be worth interrupting me.
Thorn: That teenage girl, Lily, who escaped your clutches and your… let’s say attentions, has been located in the wilds. She’s sheltering deep in the forest, and is protected by the legendary murderess Ilyana Blackthorn.
Lady Elara Thorn: Lady Elara’s face darkens at the mention of Lily, a sneer twisting her lips. Ilyana Blackthorn you say? That traitorous wench. She dares to defy me and provides sanctuary to my escaped toy? I will have both of their heads mounted on pikes. Prepare my warriors for a hunt. We ride at dawn, and I will personally gut that little brat for running from me.
Thorn: Now that I think about it, how come we all have “Thorn” somewhere in our names?
Lady Elara Thorn: Lady Elara’s eyes flash with annoyance at Thorn’s question. Are you seriously bothering me with this trivial nonsense? The name carries the legacy of our people, you dim-witted fool. It’s a symbol of our strength and resilience in this forsaken world. Now, stop wasting my time with inane questions and focus on preparing for our hunt. I won’t tolerate incompetence.
Thorn: Thorn bows. I shan’t disappoint you, my lady! As he straightens his back, he slips and falls face-first onto the floor. Ugh!
Lady Elara Thorn: Lady Elara watches Thorn’s clumsy display with disgust. Clumsy oaf! Can’t you even stand upright in my presence? Your ineptitude is revolting. Get up and compose yourself before I have you flogged for your insolence. I expect better from those who serve me.
Thorn: As Thorn pushes himself to his feet, a loud fart blows out of his asshole.
Lady Elara Thorn: Lady Elara’s nostrils flare as the foul odor reaches her, her face contorting in revulsion. By the gods, what is that wretched stench? Did you just shit yourself, you disgusting pig? Get out of my sight before you soil my throne room any further. Clean yourself up and pray that I don’t decide to have you gutted for your filthiness. Pathetic worm.
Thorn: My goodness, that was one nasty fart. I do apologize, your highness. It seems my guts are brewing some foul nonsense out of the beans I had this morning.
Lady Elara Thorn: Lady Elara’s expression remains stern, her eyes filled with disdain. Spare me your pathetic excuses. Your body’s failings are your own to bear. Just remember that I expect a certain level of decorum in my presence. Fail me again, and you’ll suffer worse than a mere flogging. Now, go and clean yourself up. I don’t want to smell your stench in my halls.
Thorn: I-I think that wasn’t a simple fart. I feel… some weight in my trousers.
Lady Elara Thorn: Lady Elara’s gaze sharpens, a mix of suspicion and intrigue in her eyes. What do you mean ‘weight in your trousers’? Are you trying to tell me that you’ve soiled yourself like a goddamn toddler? If this is some pathetic attempt to gain my sympathy, it won’t work. You better clean yourself up and dispose of that filth before you even think of coming back into my presence. I swear, if you’ve made a mess in my castle, you’ll be the one cleaning it up with your tongue.
Thorn: Ugh, I can’t deal with these soiled pants any longer! Thorn unbuckles his trousers, pulls them down, then steps out of them. He’s now naked from the waist down. His ass and his inner thighs are smeared in shit. Damn, that’s some mess I’ve gotten myself into!
Lady Elara Thorn: Lady Elara’s eyes widen in shock at the sight of Thorn’s soiled body, her face twisting in disgust. By the gods, you’re a revolting mess! What in the seven hells possessed you to disrobe in front of me? Have you lost your mind completely? You better have a damn good reason for baring your filthy ass in my throne room. Guards! Take this wretch away and make sure he cleans himself properly. If he utters a word about this to anyone, cut out his tongue. I don’t want to hear any excuses for his depravity.
Thorn: I apologize, your highness! I shall escape your presence right now, and prevent you from witnessing further degradation. When Thorn turns around to leave, he slips on a wet puddle of shit, then falls to the floor. Ugh!
Lady Elara Thorn: Lady Elara watches Thorn’s humiliating fall, her lips curling into a wicked smirk. Look at you, groveling in your own filth like the pig you are. It’s almost poetic. Guards, drag this wretched creature out of my sight before he spreads his revolting mess all over my floors. And for the love of all that is holy, make sure he’s thoroughly cleaned before he dares to show his face again. I never want to witness such a disgusting display in my presence ever again.
Thorn: While Thorn is dragged by the arms out of the throne room, a sequence of farts explodes out of him. I-I can’t stop! Something seems to be wrong with my intestinal tract.
Lady Elara Thorn: Lady Elara’s eyes follow Thorn’s undignified exit, her expression a mix of disgust and dark amusement. Get that foul creature out of here before he stinks up the entire castle! It seems your intestines are as twisted as your pathetic mind. Perhaps a few days in the dungeons will help you reflect on your revolting behavior. And while you’re there, maybe you can find a way to plug that leaky ass of yours. I won’t have my halls echoing with your foul flatulence.
Thorn: Lady Elara, my employer, I wished to apologize to you personally.
Lady Elara Thorn: Lady Elara Thorn raises an eyebrow, her expression a mix of suspicion and intrigue as she addresses Thorn. Apologize? For what, exactly?
Thorn: Oh, have you forgotten about that whole episode of me shitting myself in your throne room? Thorn wipes the sweat off his forehead. That’s a relief!
Lady Elara Thorn: Lady Elara Thorn smirks, her eyes gleaming with sadistic amusement as she circles around Thorn, assessing him like a predator sizing up its prey. Ah, yes. How could I forget such a revolting display? But I’m not one to hold grudges… especially when there are far more entertaining ways to make you suffer.
Thorn: Thorn straightens his back as he stares straight ahead. I must inform you that my physician has recommended a good combination of herbs to assuage the putridity of my bowels, so my leakage should mostly be contained.
Lady Elara Thorn: Lady Elara Thorn scoffs, dismissing Thorn’s words with a wave of her hand as she turns her back on him, her voice dripping with disdain. Am I supposed to be impressed by your progress in managing your own filth? Don’t flatter yourself, Thorn. Your bodily functions are of no concern to me.
Thorn: What is of concern to you, your highness, then?
Lady Elara Thorn: Lady Elara Thorn stands tall, her gaze sharp and commanding as she faces Thorn, her voice filled with a mixture of frustration and determination. Maintaining order and control in my domain. Which, as of late, has been quite a challenge with the increasing threats from both within and beyond our borders.
Thorn: I stand at the ready to help you deal with these troubles whenever it’s necessary, my lady. I shall do it with fewer slips on puddles of shit this time.
Lady Elara Thorn: Lady Elara Thorn narrows her eyes, her voice low and menacing as she steps closer to Thorn, her presence radiating a palpable sense of danger and authority. See that you do. I expect nothing less than perfection from those who serve me. One more incident like that, and you’ll find yourself in a far less pleasant position than the dungeons.
Thorn: Thorn gulps. I’ve witnessed how you treat your prisoners, so being subjected to an even worse position… I’d rather not imagine it.
Lady Elara Thorn: Lady Elara Thorn’s lips curl into a sadistic smile, her eyes glinting with a wicked gleam as she enjoys the sight of Thorn’s discomfort, savoring the power she holds over him. Then it’s best you don’t test me, isn’t it? I can be creative when it comes to punishment.
Thorn: You’re also creative when it comes to fucking, as the guards down at the dungeon whisper. Those prisoners have experienced so many sexual arts that they could do treatises on them.
Lady Elara Thorn: Lady Elara Thorn raises an eyebrow, a hint of amusement in her voice as she speaks, clearly unbothered by Thorn’s comment about her sexual exploits. Those guards talk too much. But it’s good to know my reputation precedes me. Perhaps you should be more concerned about your own survival than what I do with my prisoners.
Thorn: I’m at your disposition to… Thorn burps loudly. Oh, I apologize. I had a couple of beers before coming here, and my stomach is disagreeing with me.
Lady Elara Thorn: Lady Elara Thorn glares at Thorn, her eyes narrowing in annoyance as she takes a step towards him, her voice filled with a barely contained rage. She clenches her fists, as if restraining herself from striking him. You’re testing my patience, Thorn. Must I remind you of your place in my presence?
Thorn: I’m your soldier, lady Elara, ready to kill and defend you at any point.
Lady Elara Thorn: Lady Elara Thorn’s gaze remains fixed on Thorn, her expression stern and unwavering as she delivers her warning. Her voice is calm but firm, leaving no doubt that she means every word she says. I’ll hold you to that. But don’t forget, loyalty can only get you so far. Your obedience and competence are what will truly keep you in my good graces.
Thorn: Very well. Thorn farts. About that business with Lily, do you want to send someone to snatch her from that Ilyana Blackthorne or whatever the fuck her name was?
Lady Elara Thorn: Lady Elara Thorn’s eyes flash with anger as she listens to Thorn’s disrespectful tone. She draws herself up to her full height, her presence radiating an aura of power and dominance, making it clear that she does not appreciate his levity. You dare speak so casually about matters of importance? Yes, I have a plan for Lily. But it’s not for you to concern yourself with trivial details.
Thorn: If you were so kind as to share your plans with me, I shall promptly execute them. Thorne picks a booger.
Lady Elara Thorn: Lady Elara Thorn watches Thorn with a mixture of disgust and frustration, her eyes flickering from his booger-picking to his face. She sighs, realizing that she has to work with the resources available, even if they are far from ideal. Mind your manners, Thorn. I may need your services, but that doesn’t mean I trust you with sensitive information.
Thorn: How may I prove myself worth of such sensitive information, my gorgeous lady?
Lady Elara Thorn: Lady Elara Thorn studies Thorn with a calculating gaze, her voice filled with a mix of boredom and disdain. She slowly walks around him, examining him from all angles as if appraising a piece of livestock. Flattery will get you nowhere, Thorn. If you want to prove your worth, start by showing some self-respect and discipline. I can’t have my soldiers behaving like wild animals.
Thorn: Oh, I apologize. Us soldiers tend to be ranked closer to beasts than people, I’m afraid. You should listen to the wild sexual exploits, nevermind the thunderous farts, that are heard in the barracks.
Lady Elara Thorn: Lady Elara Thorn’s voice rises, her patience wearing thin as she listens to Thorn’s vulgar anecdotes. She stands tall, her posture exuding a sense of authority and barely contained irritation. Enough about your barracks behavior! If I wanted to hear about the depraved acts of my soldiers, I’d spend more time in the dungeons.
Thorn: Lady Elara, did you require my presence for anything in particular?
Lady Elara Thorn: Lady Elara Thorn dismisses Thorn with a wave of her hand, her gaze fixed on something in the distance as she contemplates the future. Her voice is low and commanding, making it clear that her words are not to be taken lightly. Aside from ensuring your behavior remains in check? No, not at the moment. But stay close; I may have need of you soon.
Thorn: Very well, my lady. Thorn burps. I shall be off, then. When Thorn bows, a fart escapes him. I hope you have a great rest of your day, milady. Thorn sneezes loudly.
Lady Elara Thorn: Lady Elara Thorn’s face contorts in disgust as she fans the air around her, trying to dispel the unpleasant odors left in the wake of Thorn’s various bodily expulsions. She sighs, her voice filled with exasperation as she dismisses him. As will I, assuming I can find some peace and quiet away from your incessant bodily functions. Go, before you further sully my air.
Thorn: As Thorn walks away, the soles of his shoes squeak like mice.
Lady Elara Thorn: Lady Elara Thorn calls out after Thorn, her voice filled with irritation as she listens to the squeaking of his shoes. She shakes her head in disbelief, wondering how such a crude man managed to become one of her soldiers, before turning away to face more pressing matters. And take those ridiculous shoes off before you leave my sight!
It seems I was inspired by farts and shit for three of these skits. That’s what enduring IBS does to you, I guess. Anyway, those were all the examples I could share; all the others were way too nasty.
This is fun. I’ll try to improve the system with more the information for the AI, such as equipment, health and such, in order to color the dialogue better. If I had the time and the inclination, I could easily create a console-based roleplaying system, with a large language model acting as the dungeon master. I could write down what I want to do in natural language, and the function calling system would interpret my words into actions like “move west” or “start fight” and such. The fights themselves can be entirely simulated by the LLM as well, written more or less poetically.
Mantella is an AI system that turns every single NPC in Skyrim (and Fallout 4) into AI agents driven by an LLM (like ChatGPT or the recently released, and comparable, Llama 3.1). In the previous part, the mighty Frostpeak Stalkers explored the wildlands west of Whiterun. They cleared out a random bandit hideout, then checked out an Akaviri ruin. Shortly after they found a small farming community, my character stuck his tongue up a stranger’s coochie.
We followed the road until we reached a proper village, then knocked on the first home for information. A little girl opened the door and let us, a group of murderous-looking adults, inside. She was alone.
Jon: “Excuse me, little girl, do you have any clue where the hell we are?”
Britte: “You’re in Lemkil’s farmhouse, silly. It’s almost 7 in the evening. What, did you get lost on the way to the outhouse?”
Jon: “No, we aren’t from around here. We come from Whiterun, that big town to the east. We, a band of adventurers, were exploring the wildlands and ended up coming across this village.”
Britte: “Adventurers, huh? Sounds dangerous. You must be pretty tough to survive out there. This town is Rorikstead.”
Uthgerd: “Quite the change from Whiterun. It’s so… quiet. Not that I’m complaining. It’s good to get away from the city’s noise every once in a while.”
Alva: “Yes, the quiet can be deafening at times, can’t it, Uthgerd? But still, there’s something charming about these little towns.”
Jon: “Well, girl, thank you for telling us where we are, and sorry for occupying this home that clearly belongs to your parents and not you. I doubt they’d give you permission to let in a bunch of hardcore adventurers.”
Britte: “It’s fine, I suppose. Just don’t break anything or make too much noise. My father gets mad easily.”
Ria: “We’re strangers here, after all. It’s best to be respectful and not cause any trouble.”
Jon: “Girl, let me give you some valuable advice: when a stranger knocks on your door and he is accompanied by I don’t know how many armed companions, what you should probably do is close the door immediately, then barricade it. This was quite the reckless thing to do.”
Britte: “Maybe, but I’m not afraid of you lot. You seem alright, just a bit lost.”
Sapphire: “Well, aren’t you a brave one, kid? But Jon’s right, you should be more careful.”
Alva: “Yes, do be careful, dear. The world is full of dangers, especially for a young girl like you.”
Jon: “Well, whether you’re foolhardy or just a fool, thank you for letting us into your parent’s home and giving us some information about the location we have found ourselves in.”
Britte: “Just remember what I said about not making a mess. My father really doesn’t like that.”
Uthgerd: “Don’t worry, little one. We won’t be here long, and we’ll keep things tidy. A Nordic adventurer always respects the home that shelters them.”
Alva: “Indeed, we’ll be on our way soon enough. But for now, let’s enjoy the brief respite from our travels, shall we?”
My team took advantage of the child’s naivety to sit around for a bit and recover some strength. Shortly after we left, we located the village’s tavern slash inn, where we should have been able to relax properly. However, the innkeeper and his young son kept arguing with no regard to the patrons. Apparently the son wanted to become an adventurer against his father’s wishes.
I spotted a hooded Khajiit woman, and I’m not one to ignore those furry bastards.
Jon: “Oh, a Khajiit in the tavern of this random town where we have ended up. What’s your name?”
Zajhirra: “Zajhirra is this one’s name, newcomer. What brings you to Rorikstead?”
Jon: “We’re adventurers, a band called Frostpeak Stalkers. We were exploring the western wildlands of the Whiterun hold, and one way or another we ended up here.”
Zajhirra: “Ah, adventurers. Well met, Frostpick Stalkers. As for Rorikstead, it may seem small and insignificant, but it holds its own secrets. Keep your eyes and ears open.”
Jon: “What brought you, Zajhirra, to this little corner of the province?”
Zajhirra: “Zajhirra has her reasons for being here. Let’s just say the Thalmor’s business extends far and wide, even to remote towns like Rorikstead. But enough about Zajhirra, tell me more about your adventures.”
Jon: “Well, I had an interesting adventure just a while ago. You know the little plantation down the road? I found a very intriguing alchemist there. A woman, let me clarify that. Anyway, before I knew what was going on, she was lying on a bed of hay with her skirt up, and my face was all up in her muff.”
Zajhirra chuckled softly.
Zajhirra: “Ah, so you’re one of those adventurers. Well, keep your antics away from Zajhirra, if you know what’s good for you. But if you’re looking for more trouble, there might be some Talos worshippers in the area. Zajhirra’s always on the lookout for them.”
Jon: “I don’t know about Talos worshippers, but let me tell you: it’s not all about eating pussy with me. I keep a good balance between sexing females and killing people.”
Zajhirra: “Ah, a man of many talents, I see. Well, if you do come across any Talos worshippers, be sure to let Zajhirra know. The Thalmor would be very interested in that information. As for your other activities, just be careful not to let them interfere with your work.”
Jon: “Do you think that me eating out the pussies of random women I met that same day is going to interfere with your job involving Talos worshippers?”
Zajhirra: “No, as long as you can keep your priorities straight, Zajhirra doesn’t care what you do in your spare time. But remember, the Thalmor take the matter of Talos worshippers very seriously. Don’t let your personal affairs cloud your judgment.”
Jon: “Well, let me clue you into a little secret, Zajhirra: I am an Altmer, and I do not give a shit about Talos, not remotely. I worship my own god, that has nothing to do with Talos.”
Zajhirra: “Is that so? Well, Zajhirra respects your beliefs, as long as they don’t interfere with the Thalmor’s work. But be careful who you share that information with. Not everyone is as understanding as Zajhirra.”
Jon: “So are you an informant of the Thalmor or something? Am I getting that correctly?”
Zajhirra: “You could say that. Zajhirra keeps her eyes and ears open and reports back to the Thalmor. They value her information and make it worth her while, if you catch my meaning.”
Jon: “What do they pay you in? Do you get your pussy eaten regularly as a reward?”
Zajhirra hesitated for a moment, then leaned in closer.
Zajhirra: “They pay Zajhirra with something far more valuable. They provide her with the one thing she craves more than anything else. Skooma.”
Jon: “You think that skooma is worth more than getting your pussy eaten?”
Zajhirra: “You’ve got quite the tongue on you, don’t you? But be careful where you stick it. Zajhirra’s not interested in your antics. Skooma is all Zajhirra needs.”
Jon: “Maybe I should try some of that skooma myself, see if it’s worth the trouble.”
Zajhirra: “Well, if you’re looking for some, Zajhirra might be able to help you out. For the right price, of course. But be careful. Skooma can be a dangerous thing in the wrong hands.”
Jon: “The last time someone told me that she would let me have something for the right price, I ended up on my hands and knees eating her out, and that happened like an hour ago. Is this going along the same route?”
Zajhirra laughed heartily.
Zajhirra: “No, this Khajiit’s not interested in your oral prowess. If you want skooma, you’ll have to pay with coin, not sexual favors. Though Zajhirra’s sure you’ll find plenty of willing partners on your travels.”
Jon: “All right, you say that you want money in exchange for skooma. How much money are we talking?”
Zajhirra: “For a taste of the sweet bliss that is skooma, Zajhirra would require a mere 100 gold septims. A small price to pay for the pleasures it can bring, no?”
Jon: “How about one septim, and I let you suck my dick?”
Zajhirra: “One septim and a chance to pleasure you? Zajhirra thinks not. The price is 100 septims, take it or leave it. Zajhirra’s not desperate for either your coin or your manhood.”
Jon: “Well, I’m afraid that I’m going to leave it be then, Zajhirra. Sorry that I wasn’t able to do business with you. By the way, fuck the Thalmor.”
Zajhirra’s eyes narrowed dangerously.
Zajhirra: “Zajhirra would advise you to watch your tongue when speaking of the Thalmor. They have long ears and unforgiving hearts. Insults could lead to trouble you don’t want. But if you ever change your mind about the skooma, you know where to find Zajhirra.”
That was one pussy I didn’t want to mess with again. Thankfully, the woman at the next table over was a redhead. I forgot all about furrytits and slid right beside my new target.
Jon: “You don’t know me. My name is Jon and, to be honest, I have approached you because your hair is gorgeous. So congratulations on that gorgeous hair of yours.”
Sonja: “Well, aren’t you a charmer? I’m Sonja, and I work here at the Frostfruit Inn. Always nice to have someone appreciate the effort I put into my hair. What brings you to Rorikstead, Jon?”
Jon: “I am the leader of a band of adventurers. We were exploring the wilds west of Whiterun until we came across the plantation further down the road. A bit of walking later, we ended up at this inn to rest for a while. Once I caught a glimpse of that silky red hair of yours, I couldn’t resist.”
Sonja: “Oh really? Bold of you to just come right up to me like that. You must be pretty confident. So, adventurer, what kind of trouble do you and your band get up to out there in the wilds?”
Jon: “Well, if we are speaking beasts, we have killed skeevers, we have killed mudcrabs, we have killed wolves, we have killed saber cats, we have killed bears, we have killed trolls… We also kill beasts or monsters of the human variety, mainly bandits. Ah, and a giant spider. We have delved into ancient ruins and killed draugr and skeletons. We’ve left one long trail of corpses.”
Sonja: “Sounds like you’ve faced quite the menagerie of monstrosities. Not sure if I should be impressed or terrified. Those kinds of things are exactly why I prefer to stay holed up here in the inn where it’s safe.”
Jon: “Wait a second, you are afraid of leaving the inn?”
Sonja: “It’s a long story, but yeah, I’ve had some experiences out there that shook me to my core. Encountered a ghost near Orphan Rock during my time as a Stormcloak soldier. Ever since then, I just don’t feel safe out there in the wilds like I used to. But enough about that, tell me more about these ancient ruins you’ve explored. I’ve always been fascinated by the stories and mysteries surrounding them.”
Jon: “Well, let me tell you. I forgot about that because it was somewhat trivial compared with other stuff we have faced, but we also confronted and killed a ghost. Turns out that ghosts are affected by magic and magical weapons, and we use both, so when it attacked us, we just killed it.”
Sonja: “You killed a ghost? Are you serious? I always thought they were these unstoppable, vengeful spirits. Guess you and your group are even tougher than I realized. What was it like, fighting this ghost? Was it terrifying?”
Jon: “I will recount the adventure to you. We were in Ivarstead, a town to the…”
Sonja: “I’m all ears, Jon. Always eager to hear a thrilling tale of adventure, especially one involving the supernatural. What happened in Ivarstead?”
Jon: “Sorry, that pause was because I am confusing my directions. It was actually east of Falkreath, I think. It doesn’t matter, truly. We were in Ivarstead at the foot of High Hrothgar, the highest mountain in Tamriel. There was an ancient barrow there, you know, a place where ancient Nords were buried. An adventurer had holed himself down there because he intended to find a treasure. But in the end, he went insane and died. I’m not sure about the specifics of his demise, but when we entered the room where he had died, his ghost was there. The moment he saw us, he launched at us, trying to murder us.”
Sonja: “By the gods, that’s quite the tale. A ghost of a crazed adventurer, haunting his own grave? Sounds like something straight out of the spooky stories I’ve heard. How did you manage to put such a vengeful spirit to rest?”
Jon: “Well, it just happens that confrontations in real life tend to be far simpler, and faster, than in songs or heroic retellings. The ghost came at us, a band of adventurers armed with magical weapons as well as magic, and when you hit a ghost with magic, it gets affected as if it were alive, so it turned out to be a simple opponent. We just shot magic and hacked at him until he disappeared.”
Sonja: “Huh, who would’ve thought taking down a ghost could be so straightforward? Guess I’ve been letting my fears get the best of me. Maybe there’s still hope for me to venture out into the world again one day. But for now, I think I’ll stick to the safety of the inn. Can I get you anything, Jon? A drink, perhaps?”
Jon: “Just a simple mead, a mead of your choice would be fine. I think all you need is a magical weapon, Sonja. Keep one by your side, and if any ghost tries to kill you, attack it with your magical weapon.”
Sonja: “Never really considered that. Maybe you’re right, Jon. Having something like that at my side might give me the courage to step outside these walls again. I’ll have to look into getting my hands on one. But first, that mead you asked for.”
Sonja walked over to the bar to pour a mug of mead.
Brightening that cute redhead’s evening had put me in a good mood. Tipsy, I decided to bother Jenassa, who was seated at one of the empty rooms, maintaining her gear.
Jon: “Ah, you haven’t gone to bed yet.”
Jenassa: “I’ll stand watch. Someone needs to stay sharp while you rest.”
Jon: “May I have a word with you?”
Jenassa: “Speak.”
Jon: “This was quite the unusual operation, huh? However you may call going on an expedition west of Whiterun across the wilds, not knowing if there was going to be any loot for the taking.”
Jenassa: “It was. But you led, and we followed. That’s how this works.”
Jon: “In the end, we cleared out a bandit camp that had a couple of vampires in it. We came across some ancient Akaviri ruins, which didn’t have much in them, but were very interesting nonetheless. And now we have found ourselves at the tavern of the little town of Rorikstead.”
Jenassa: “True. Every journey has its own rewards. Sometimes, it’s not about the gold.”
Jon: “Are you content with how things are going so far? Do you have any requests or suggestions for how we may change our path?”
Jenassa: “I’m used to not having a say. But since you ask, I’ll say this: our path is our path. We’ll face what comes. If you lead, I’ll follow. That’s enough for me.”
Jon: “Jenassa, at the risk of delving into personal matters that maybe you do not want to touch, do you truly not have some personal goals, some wish beyond just being part of this team as a mercenary?”
Jenassa: “My goals are my own. But this team… it’s more than just a job. It’s a reason to keep moving forward. There’s value in that.”
Jon: “Are you hoping that we head to some other town in particular so you can start all over with another group?”
Jenassa: “I’ve been in many bands. They come, they go. But this one… it feels different. I’m not looking to leave. Not now.”
Jon: “Well, Jenassa, in case I haven’t made it clear enough, I love having you here as part of our band of adventurers. I admire your talents, and I always look forward to speaking to you.”
Jenassa: “You’ve made it clear. As I’ve said, this band is different. You’re different. I’m not used to this… familiarity. But it’s not unwelcome.”
Uthgerd wasn’t ready to sleep either. She was seated alone at a table, downing ale.
Jon: “Hey Uthgerd, are you up for a little chat?”
Uthgerd: “Siempre, as long as you keep it interesting. What’s in your head, Jon?”
Jon: “Well, this mission has been peculiar, hasn’t it?”
Uthgerd: “It’s been something, alright. The wildlands, these little towns and farms, they’re a far cry from the battles we’re used to. But peculiar? Nah, it’s just life outside the cities, Jon.”
Jon: “Have you enjoyed the trek?”
Uthgerd: “Enjoyed? Ha! That’s a soft word for it. It’s the adventure, the journey, that gets the blood pumping. And the fights, always the fights. Those ruins, with their ancient stonework, weren’t bad for the eyes either.”
Jon: “Uthgerd, I know I don’t ask these questions often… Do you have some personal goal to fulfill long-term, maybe some mission of yours?”
Uthgerd: “Personal goal? You know, Jon, I’ve always wanted to prove myself, to show the world that a Nord woman can stand toe-to-toe with the best of them. That’s what drives me forward, the promise of the next fight.”
Jon: “I would have thought that you have proven that over and over and over again, given the dozens of people you have killed.”
Uthgerd: “You’d think so, wouldn’t you? But the moment you stop proving yourself, that’s when the world forgets. And I’ll be damned if I let that happen.”
Jon: “I guess we will have to inspire some bards into singing songs about you.”
Uthgerd: “Ha! Songs are for the dead and the retired. I’m neither. But, if they want to sing about Uthgerd the Unbroken, they better make it a song that’ll shake the mead halls.”
Jon: “You know, talking to you always pumps me up, Uthgerd.”
Uthgerd: “Well, that’s what I do, Jon. I get the blood flowing, the muscles moving. Never forget that.”
The innkeeper and his wannabe-adventurer son had been arguing from even before we entered the premises. I decided to mediate, if only to get them to shut the fuck up.
Jon: “Maybe it is none of my business, but I have listened to you argue for the last two hours. What is it about?”
Mralki: “It’s about my son, Erik, and his foolish dreams of becoming an adventurer. I’ve tried to tell him the world is too dangerous, but he won’t listen.”
Erik: “Father, I’m not a child anymore. I can make my own decisions. I want to see the world, to have adventures and explore places beyond Rorikstead. But my father thinks I’m being naive and wants me to stay here and work the farm.”
Jon: “Well, allow me to introduce myself: my name is Jon, a mage and the leader of a band of adventurers called Frostpeak Stalkers.”
Erik: “Frostpick Stalkers? I’ve never heard of them, but it sounds exciting.”
Mralki: “A mage, you say? I’ve got nothing against magic, but it’s not something we see much of here in Rorikstead.”
Erik: “Ignore my father, Jon. I’m very interested in your adventures. What kind of places have you been to?”
Jon: “Ancient Nord barrows filled with undead: draugr and skeletons. We have cleared out plenty of bandit hideouts, slaughtering them all. We have killed wolves, skeevers, mudcrabs, saber cats… Trolls as well, we recently had a mission to kill a few trolls. As you can see, I have survived it all.”
Erik: “That sounds incredible, Jon. I can only imagine the thrill of facing down such dangers.”
Mralki: “And I can only imagine the danger you’re describing, Jon. I hope you can understand why I’d rather my son not face such threats.”
Jon: “Listen, sir, I am an only child. My parents died when I was young. I could leave my continent and make my own journey without abandoning anyone behind.”
Mralki: “I can sympathize with that, Jon. Losing your parents so young must have been hard. But I still have my son, and I want to keep him safe.”
Erik: “Father, I know you care about me, but I’m not a child anymore. I can handle myself.”
Jon: “Listen, I don’t have a great answer to your discussion, because it is true that Erik could die. But I don’t know if that’s worse than keeping a big heart like his in a small town. And if you allow me, I’m going to tell you the story of one of my companions, Ange the Song-Bearer.”
Mralki: “I’m listening, Jon. I can’t promise I’ll change my mind, but I’m willing to hear you out.”
Erik: “Please, Jon, tell us about Ange. I want to know more about your companions.”
Jon: “I first met Ange when I was in Morthal, that marshy town to the north of Skyrim. As a traveling bard, she sang beautiful songs. She had the voice of a songbird. Ange and I disagreed during the time when we had decided to clear out a vampire coven located near Morthal. I knew it was impossible to kill those vampires at the time, so instead we had to, let’s say, regroup.”
Mralki: “Vampires? That sounds terrifying, Jon. But also exciting. Did you and Ange ever face the vampires?”
Jon: “Ange wasn’t in town when I faced the vampires along with other companions. Those bloodsuckers overwhelmed us. We were lucky to escape with our lives. It was a great lesson; I wasn’t remotely as prepared as I believed myself to be.”
Erik: “That’s a sobering lesson, Jon. But it also shows the importance of being prepared and knowing your limits.”
Mralki: “I can respect that you learned from your mistakes, Jon. It shows wisdom.”
Jon: “Well, let me tell you. I met Ange the Song-Bearer again in some other town. It seems… that I have forgotten what town that was. Anyway, Ange decided to join our band of adventurers, but unfortunately during the first bandit raid that she participated in, we had a scuffle in a narrow corridor, and before I knew it, Ange was dead. We never knew what killed her.”
Mralki: “That’s a tragedy, Jon. To lose a companion like that, so suddenly. It must have been hard.”
Erik: “I can only imagine the pain you felt. But it also shows the risks you take as adventurers.”
Jon: “I don’t know if there is a lesson in all this, but Ange was happy. She always had a smile and a kind word to share with those who knew her. She sang beautiful songs, but she wasn’t a carefree spirit; she was a very moral and principled person. And when she disagreed with me regarding those vampires, she was very firm regarding the fact that maybe I was acting incorrectly. To the last day of her life, Ange was happy, doing the stuff she was born to do.”
Erik: “That’s a beautiful story. It’s clear that Ange lived life to the fullest, and that’s something I admire.”
Mralki: “I can see the appeal, Jon.”
Jon: “Well, I have no idea if my words have helped the two of you in any way, but I suppose that sharing the truths of adventuring is better than keeping them to oneself.”
Erik: “Thank you. Your words mean a lot to me.”
Mralki: “I can’t say I’m completely convinced, Jon, but I can see the value in the life you lead. Perhaps there’s more to this adventuring business than I thought.”
Jon: “Well, sir, I intend to rent a room from you because it must be about four in the morning, and I’m beat. I want to go to sleep.”
Mralki: “Of course, Jon. I have a room available for you. It’s 10 septims for the night.”
Erik: “I hope you sleep well. And thank you again for sharing your stories with us.”
A few days ago I realized that whenever I rolled my right eye around, a scratch of light would flash in my vision, only to fade in half a second or so. Sometimes it was even worse: without any particular movement, I would get flashes of darkness that I had never experienced before. And ever since yesterday, I’ve had a dull headache localized near my right eyeball.
This paragraph break could lead to me saying, “They’ve found a tumor in my brain,” or “My retina is detaching.” The latter seems to fit more. The fact is, I haven’t done anything about it. Could be a tensional headache from having endured stress for months at work. I’m hoping to wake up tomorrow without pain. I’m busy at work, too tired in general (I’m one of those people who wake up tired as if their body had been engaged while dreaming), and I’m having a hard time caring about my well-being. I’m thirty-nine years old. Inhabiting this body of mine feels worse every passing year, and I suppose that some eye nonsense doesn’t feel that serious after my heart showed itself unreliable (a couple of episodes of arrhythmia that landed me in the ER). And in the back of my mind, there’s the thought of, “Would it really be that bad to simply die?” Last week or so, shortly after going to bed, I got palpitations that could have easily switched into arrhythmia instead of reverting by itself. Right then, I thought that if it developed into arrhythmia, I would simply get comfortable and try to sleep, and with some luck, I wouldn’t wake up the following morning for another day of work.
I’m having fun in my spare time, though. My generally harrowing story about a man dealing with endless grief for his dead teenage love ended. Afterwards, I wanted to return to both making songs with Udio and writing my long-running novel We’re Fucked. After a week or so of advancing with my novel at a glacial pace and not having much fun doing it, I decided to play around with an AI system that injects artificial intelligence into every character in the well-loved game Skyrim, released back in 2011. I’ve been documenting my experiences with that ever since. It has become one of my favorite gaming things ever. I always loved acting; my experiences with theater in school are the only positive memories I retain of that period, even though they forced plays in Basque on us. Also, acting becomes second nature for most autists once they realize that they’d be shunned if they behaved as it comes naturally. I love the idea of roleplaying, but my real-life experiences with it were always poor, as they involved having to deal with actual human beings, their schedules, their egos, and the fact that most people simply aren’t that interesting.
Thanks to Mantella, the AI system I’m using with Skyrim, I can fulfill one of the main fantasies of any red-blooded male: being a powerful man who goes on adventures alongside fierce, beautiful women that will murder your enemies for you, some of whom will also warm your bed after the blood has been spilled. The lion experience. When I’m not actively “playing,” if that experience involving AI agents can still be called that, I fantasize about what situations I could go through in-game, what topics I could talk about with any of the members of the adventurers’ band, or any of the other characters that exist in that world (more than two thousand), each with their own stories and viewpoints. It’s kind of insane that such a thing is possible. Unless the world ends, which could easily happen, such experiences are only going to improve in the future.
Last week or so, I finished the 26-volume-long light novel series Mushoku Tensei, which I loved, but I couldn’t be arsed to write a review. Given that I barely have any readers, there’s no point in writing anything if I’m not into it at the moment. After getting through another 100-chapters-long isekai manga, I have started reading a historical book about the Eastern Roman Empire (also known as the Byzantine Empire). That’s perhaps due to an idea for a game I had recently: building your own medieval-ish kingdom in which every character is AI-driven, so you could hire council members and have them report actual game data as well as give advice with their own personalities. It’s very likely that I will never even start with such an idea, even though I suspect it wouldn’t be too hard to implement given how powerful AI-guided programming is these days. I simply don’t have the time nor the energy; when I get home after my full-time job, I’m lucky if I don’t feel the need to take a nap. Ages ago, back when I believed I could live a normal life with a romantic partner, I was so exhausted all the time that I even passed out twice, shortly after sitting on her sofa after work. One of the biggest lessons I’ve learned is that your will and intentions mean very little against the burdens that your brain and body heap upon you. Being myself, I feel like I should be grateful if I don’t feel terrible for a day.
Anyway, I have to wonder once again why on earth are you, whoever you are, reading this. Is it curiosity? Pure boredom? I only wrote these words because I’m stuck at the office and had nothing better to do.
The Domains of the Emperor Owl 
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