•1•
Aniyah paused by a tree that was bigger than all the rest. It was obviously very old. The leaves of its branches were a pretty teal color and were shaped like the diamonds in a deck of playing cars. She couldn't say exactly why, but this tree gave her a slight sense of comfort. In these woods--especially with the black curtain hanging over the sky--comfort was a rare commodity. She found comfort in this tree, oddly enough, and also in her new weapon. Windchine; Blade of the Paragon. She supposed she was the Paragon of the Weaver now. Whatever that meant. She knew the words, because they kept echoing throughout her thoughts, but she had only a faint idea of their meaning. She wasn't totally clueless. She'd picked up on the fact that the Weaver was a God, or something close to it. She'd intuited that Paragon was some kind of title, bestowed by the Weaver. It meant she was sort of like a knight. Beyond these things however, she didn't have much to go on. She'd always just known things she had no way of knowing. Sometimes, she knew things she had no business knowing, as Momma would have said. She wasn't psychic. Far from it. She just got gut feelings about things, that usually turned out to be right. Like the ones underneath. She'd picked up on all of that, without any real reason to pick up on it.
She was picking up on something now. Something involving the others back at the clearing.
But she was still piecing all of that together. She didn't have enough to go on yet, to have any complete, fully formed thought.
That wouldn't come until a bit later...
What came in that moment, was the subtle soothing nature of the very old tree before her. Comfort really was a rare commodity here, but aside from the tree and the scimitar, there was one more source of comfort for her, currently. The weird little jellyfish thing. It was bobbing along in the air a few feet from the tree. It hadn't left her side since bringing her the weapon. Like the tree--like Windchime--it granted her a small degree of comfort. She didn't know where the jellyfish had got the weapon, but she had an idea that even the jellyfish didn't know where it had come from. Maybe the old man had something to do with it. The one who kept the Keys. The Custodian.
She bitterly wished she'd thought to grab Mr. Brownie when she took off running from the skinless man.
The skinless man...
Now there was something she hadn't got any gut feelings about. Except for fear, that was. She knew to be fearful of the man, but that was all. She'd dealt with monsters her whole life. They'd shown up out the blue, or she'd shown up to them. Like in that Long Room. Something about the skinless man was different though. Something about him wasn't like the other monsters. He wasn't one of her monsters, she knew that much at least. She could also tell he didn't have anything to do with the ones underneath, or the grasshopper people. He wasn't connected to The Jailer.
The only intuitive feeling Aniyah had concerning the skinless man, was that he was connected to something a whole lot worse. What that something might have a been however, she had no clue.
Aniyah didn't have a sheath, or swordbelt. The scimitar hadn't come with a scabbard. As a result, she was forced to hold the weapon in her hand, since she had nowhere to stow it. The blade was as long as her arm, and curved--almost like a banana--but was only sharp on one side. This allowed her to rest the blunt edge in the crook of her shoulder, carrying it the way she'd seen lumberjacks sometimes carry their axes in old movies; with her elbow bent, and the blade sticking out behind her as if it were a compass needle that only pointed in the opposite direction from where she was facing.
With Windchine in this position, she leaned sideways against the old tree--feeling its rough bark against her skin. A soft breeze gently blew against her face, bringing with it the scents of nature. The blackness of the sky didn't seem to match the pleasantness of the wind or the earthy smells of the woods around her. Nor did the stillness. There were a few insects buzzing someplace nearby, but mostly it was quiet. It was almost tranquil, in fact. She knew that somewhere in these same woods, chaos was happening. Hell on Earth (or, Hell on In-Between, she supposed). But all of that seemed so distant. So removed from her in that moment, in this private patch of wilderness.
Part of her wanted to go charging off toward the battle, so she could save Eddie the Gnome, and Prioress Qaya, and the others. Yet, at the same time, another part of her wanted to just lie down right here and take a nice long nap. Another part still--a deeper part--briefly broached the topic of Amy. She shattered this thought into a million little pieces and scattered them in the wind. She wouldn't... no... she couldn't deal with that right now. Not yet. Soon, she would have to. But not just yet.
These contradicting parts were really all the same part. The part that didn't want to admit she was hopelessly lost. She had no dang idea where to go.
Aniyah looked up at the weird little jellyfish thing. She whispered, "Wonder how far it is, to get back to Eddie Money and the others?"
The jellyfish couldn't understand her. Duh. It was a floating jellyfish. How could it?
Except... for a moment, Aniyah thought maybe the thing did understand. And after another few seconds, she knew for sure it did.
The jellyfish flashed a soft green color. Once, then twice. To Aniyah, it was almost like it was saying: "Beep-beep!"
"What does that mean, Jellybean?" she asked, laughing at how goofy she probably sounded.
The jellyfish strobed green again. Just once this time. Then, it slowly began to float away.
"Hold up a minute. Where you goin'?" She stopped leaning against the tree and stood up straight.
The jellyfished froze for a second, beeped green once more, then started off again.
"Ohhh, okay. I see. You leading the way? Well okay then." Aniyah smiled in spite of herself.
She followed behind the jellyfish. Together, they made their way through the darkened woods. Hopefully, to rejoin the others...
•2•
"I've never been in this part of the city before," Flower-Seed admitted. "I didn't even realize there was so much down here. I knew there were older parts of Locist Spire that were here before the Jikk, and that most of it was under the city, but I didn't expect there to be all of... this." He looked around, pausing briefly to admire the elaborate architecture around him. "I mean... Gods. There's actually streets down here. And structures. Not to mention these sculptures and platforms. It's breathtaking. It's almost like an entire settlement encased in a mausoleum. A sort of... civilization time capsule."
Quijj gave only a noncommittal grunt in response.
The two of them walked side-by-side along a wide street paved in stone. So much was stonework, or marble. The craftsmanship that went into all of it was something even modern Artisians likely couldn't replicate. Large sections of the old city were in ruins, but those that remained mostly intact made Flower-Seed feel as if he'd traveled back in time. If they'd had the sky overhead instead of a cavern roof, he could have easily imagined being in the center of a bustling metropolis.
They strode by a towering sculpture made to resemble some sort of animal Flower-Seed couldn't identify. It certainly wasn't any kind of insect, or Insectoid. It had four legs and a tail, plus a large round head. It was as intriguing as it was beautiful.
Cave crickets were softly singing in the nooks and crannies. The distant sound of dripping water played constant accompaniment to the hollow resonance of this subterranean wonderland.
They turned down what had once been a side street, with Flower-Seed leading the way. Up ahead, a cavern wall blocked their advance. There was a place where the wall had been broken, creating an opening just big enough for them to squeeze through.
On the other side, they came upon a ledge overlooking a sprawling cavern. There were more ledges--some, only narrow slabs of stone reminiscent of catwalks; others, much wider, holding half-ruined structures--high up along the cavern walls. And in the center, sitting like an island in the dark sea of darkness, was a sprawling marble platform. The platform was surrounded on all sides by crags and trenches so deep Flower-Seed couldn't see their bottom. There was a naturally formed staircase of stone leading from the platform to another opening. This was most likely the main entrance to this chamber. Flower-Seed realized now that he and Quijj had taken an alternate route to get here, than the others had.
Yes. There were others. A lot of them, from the looks of it.
On the marble platform below, rows of tents and even a makeshift gazebo had been set up. As Flower-Seed's eyes adjusted, he began to make out the robes of Advisors; the armor of Spire Knights and Spire Watch. There were excited, panicked voices echoing throughout the cave. Some sort of commotion was going on.
"I had no idea any of this was here," Flower-Seed whispered.
Quijj gave him a strange look.
"Don't ask how I knew where to go, or how to get here. I just... did."
Quijj nodded, but said nothing.
From the platform, someone yelled: "Arrest the traitor!"
"Ah, shit," Flower-Seed said. He was no longer bothering to keep his voice at a whisper. The figures gathered below had broken into something close to a frenzy. "They must be talking about the Councilor." He looked at Quijj with a serious expression. "We have to get her out of here. I'm not exactly the biggest fan of our government, but something really bad is going on down here. I got... visions. I saw Spire Knights with their minds corrupted by parasites. Whoever attacked the city... they've infected some of the officials. We have to do something. If we're ever going to rebuild... we need Jikk like Councilor Lemma. She's one of the good ones."
Quijj grunted in agreement. "Alright. Let's do it."
"What's the plan?" Flower-Seed asked, suddenly nervous. He felt a bit silly asking Quijj what the plan was, considering the elderly tavern keeper had just been following his lead up this point. Now that they were here, Flower-Seed didn't have the slightest idea what he was going to do. Or even what he could do. He couldn't fight a trained Spire Knight. Let alone an entire company of them. He'd only get himself killed!
Fortunately (and to Flower-Seed's great relief), Quijj said: "Just wait here. And get ready to run. Like you've never ran before."
"Alright. I think I can do that much, at least."
Quijj nodded. He drew his odd-looking weapon, and leapt down from the ledge; spreading his wings as he did this to glide over to the platform. Just as the old tavern keep came to a landing, Flower-Seed saw two armored Knights seize Councilor Lemma by the arms, and pull her to the ground. One of the Advisors screamed.
Shit! his mind cursed. Come on, Quijj. You gotta do something! And fast!
•3•
There was a particular knock at the hidden door to the Navigator's study. Three heavy raps, a pause, then two sets of four bangs; the coded knock he'd taught to the mercenary leader. The corners of Drokin the Navigator's mouth--little more than soft tissue on either side of his pointed beak--sagged slightly, in a parody of a frown. He shot a glance over to the wall-mounted clock above his desk. It was only Ef'tat-Half-Wane. The merc shouldn't have made it to this part of Barkstone Barony, for at least another three Shecks.
Drokin cast a suspicious eye toward the opposite end of the room. He reached beneath his desk, unfastening the blade he hid there. It was always good to have a backup weapon. The talon-like claws of his hand instinctively found the pommel of his rapier. "Enter!" he called to the door.
There was a hefty creaking sound as a considerable portion of the wall was pushed inward, revealing both the false rock of the door's opposite side, and the midday sunlight beyond the study. The light was much too bright for Drokin's eyes, after spending so much time inside the chamber under the Arcas Rune lamps. For a moment, he had to squint in order to get a decent view of his visitor. The moment Drokin saw the figure entering his study, his claws tightened on the handle of his weapon.
The one who appeared through the doorway was not the merc leader Rave the Ravager. Not by a long shot. The stranger was a Jagged Fields Nerthran, just as Rave was, but this was where their similarities ended. Rave was of slightly larger than average size for an adult male member of the mothfolk race. The Nerthran before Drokin was the antithesis of average (or "slightly" for that matter). He was enormous; much larger than seemed natural. If one of his crew mates had told Drokin about seeing a Nerthran the size of this one, Drokin would have labeled them an exaggerator at best, a boldfaced liar at worst. He certainly wouldn't have believed mothmen could grow this large, if he weren't seeing the proof of that very thing with his own two eyes.
"Where is Rave? Who are you?" Drokin demanded.
The giant mothman slowly stepped inside the study and creaked the door shut behind him. He did not answer.
"I asked you a question. Where is--"
In a baritone voice that was almost pleasing to the ear, the mothman said: "Would you Sky Pirates send your Captain on every minor mission, or simple errand? I am Master Rave's deliverer. I am called Nollo."
A peculiar name for such a hulking creature as this, the Navigator mused.
When Drokin didn't initially respond, 'Nollo' added: "I have the Relic you wanted." He held up a black rectangular case, almost like the kind a Bard might use for protecting a musical instrument.
Drokin thought this over a moment, studying the towering mothman carefully. He felt almost like he was looking up at a living statue. One of the great big ones that lined the streets of the grand cities of Roshuka, or populated the ruins of Jyyrvesk's Old Country. Even the hulk's features were oversized, as if they needed to compensate for the massive face to which they were attached. This 'Nollo' somewhat unsettled Drokin. The self-proclaimed "deliverer" had a long, slender mouth that didn't quite seem to want to close all the way. This gave the mothman an almost moronic appearance; a dimwitted face with the mouth of a drooling imbecile. Combined with his considerable size, it would have been easy to dismiss this Nerthran as a buffoon. Even the title "deliverer" played into this impression. And he seemed to have a permanent glazed over quality about his eyes. However, Drokin saw what lurked beneath the surface. When he looked beyond these things, the Navigator could detect a cold, calculating intelligence in the mothman's eyes. Upon closer inspection, the glazed over quality didn't strike the Navigator as entirely organic. It struck him as purposeful, practiced--part of a kind of disguise.
Nollo was a mothman with the soul of a spider...
As these things dawned on Drokin, the unsettled feeling he'd had since this mothman's appearance turned to something bordering on outright fear. The Navigator had been all across the Lesser and Greater Reaches. He'd seen some horrid things. Something about this stranger was different, however. There was something not quite Insectoid in his eyes; not quite Of This Pocket Realm, as the Captain was want to say. Drokin had never believed in the concept of evil. Not in the same way the Old Scrolls talked about it, as least. But now--here in his study, confronted by the figure before him--when he looked into those eyes, evil was all Drokin saw.
"You... have the Horn?" Drokin asked, trying to sound casual. His heart was beating at three times it's normal tempo. He slowly reached for the Link Orb. Calling out to Captain Heekan may have been the only chance he had left. "Let me get you the coin I promise then."
"Stop," said Nollo. "Put your hand down."
Drokin paused. The tips of his claws were just inches from the Orb. If he were quick about it, he could snatch the thing up in a microsecond. The Navigator was quick. He was a trained fighter, afterall. But... he knew intuitively he would not be quick enough.
"I beg your pardon?" Drokin said, trying and failing to keep some air of authority in his tone.
Nollo laughed. It was not a pleasant sound. "There was never going to be any coin, was there? You think Master Rave wouldn't sniff out such an obvious con? You really aren't familiar with the Stonewing Pillar Mercenaries are you? We are not some low-level ratcatchers."
Drokin said nothing for a moment. At last, he sighed. He allowed his training to replace his fear. It took quite a lot of effort, but he managed. When his heart had returned to something closer to a natural beat, he leveled his avian eyes at the mothman. He dropped his hand, but brought it down to his rapier. He drew the weapon, but made no move to strike.
Through the end of his closed beak, Drokin growled: "Alright, asshole. Just what are you after?"
Nollo laughed again. He flipped open the brass latches on the black case he held, opened it. Inside, wasn't any Relic. That had been a lie. The black velvet lined interior of the case held a single object: a large throwing knife. Nollo removed the blade and let the case fall to the floor. "I'll need every piece of coin you have here. And anything else of value."
Drokin raised his rapier. "All our treasures are on the ship." He sighed, deciding to fess up. "I don't have anything here. You were right. I planned on taking the Horn and not paying. But I am obviously not getting what I wanted. There is no coin here for you to get what you want. Why don't we just call this an impasse? We both walk away, no better off... but no worse for wear than we were before. What do you say?"
Nollo shook his massive head. It was like seeing a boulder pivot atop a living column. "You think you can plot to take out our leader, and live to tell the tale? You're even more stupid than you look."
Now, Drokin was getting angry. "Do you have any idea who you're fucking with? You can't stand against our entire crew. We're the Hawkblood Pirates. You think Captain Heekan will just sit by and let you--"
The knife was buried in Drokin's windpipe, before he ever saw the mothman throw it. For someone so massive, Rollo had a dexterity and speed that were virtually unrivaled. There was a soft clang as Drokin's rapier fell to the floor; a soft gurgling sound as he began to choke on his own blood. He gasped for air his lungs couldn't find; his hands clawing at his throat to pull free a blade that wouldn't budge.
Drokin the Navigator fell to the floor with a hollow thud, knocking his chair over in the process. The last thing his dying mind registered before he lost consciousness was the sight of Rollo the mothman standing over him, whispering: "You Sky Pirates never should have come to the Wilden Green."
Then, Drokin was fading. Fading, fading.
Fading.
Fading from the mortal world, and headed for that Great Beyond...
•4•
Eyes. So many eyes. Staring. Watching.
Abominations. Wretched perversions of nature. Black-tongued things. Slime things. Things with many, many eyes.
Many. Many. Eyes.
Vellnoth! It was awful!
Zoocher slipped through a whirlwind of swirling shadows. He sank into quicksand of blackness. His mind shattered, then reformed. Shattered, then reformed. The world became a pane of glass which broke into a million, billion, trillion little pieces. He reached out, desperately trying to pick the pieces up, to put them back together.
It was no use.
Horrors. Eyes. Looking. Looking at me. Through me. Seeing me. Seeing all.
SEEING.
Zoocher rocked himself back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. There was dirt and grass beneath him. He was curled up into a ball, hugging his knees against his chest. Yet, these things were just background details. This was just his surroundings, and his physical body. His mind was somewhere else--perhaps, in another patch of dirt, slowly turning to mud. No. Not mud. Quicksand.
Sinking. He was sinking. Sinking, and slipping away. Slipping off into that Forever Night.
White Staircase?
No. He saw no White Staircase. Perhaps, only the Black Steps awaited him after all the awful things he'd done in life.
Only... there were no Black Steps, either.
Because he wasn't dead. Not yet, at least.
He was alive, but he was not living. Not in the normal sense.
Eyes. Watching. Looking. Seeing. Viewing. Glimpsing.
STARING.
GODS. OH GODS. OH VELLNOTH PLEASE!
No mercy for him. No Gods coming to save him. Only horrors.
He'd been in that terrible place, in that terrible room for what had felt like centuries.
Now he was back in the woods. But not all of him. He'd left some essential part of himself back there, back in that terrible place.
And now, he'd never get that part back. It was lost to him. For good. Forever.
Zoocher leaned over and vomited yellow bile onto the grass. His head was swimming. He slowly stood up. As he stood, everything fell away. Everything. His entire being. His essence. His all. His whole.
Zoocher? No. There was no Zoocher anymore.
Maybe there never had been.
Certainly, there would never be a Zoocher again.
Shattered.
Zoocher was shattered and lost. Gone. Now, Zoocher was no more. Forever departed.
He felt something warm and wet run down his legs. He'd urinated on himself without realizing it. This did not bother him. This meant nothing. He took a step forward and vomited onto his vest. This too meant nothing.
He stripped off his armor, his undergarments, his weapons. He kicked off his boots. To one side of the pile he'd made with his belongings, there were a set of bootprints in the dirt. He turned in the opposite direction, and started walking. He didn't know where he was going. He only knew he needed to walk.
Visions winked in and out of his mind. He continued walking, muttering to himself all the while. He spoke of everything, of nothing. He asked questions without answer. He gave answers to questions no one had asked.
Those eyes. They were burned into his brain. No. His brain was a burn. A scorchmark, littered with eyes. Staring. Watching. Waiting?
He walked on. Walking through the woods, to nowhere. Walking. Muttering. Thinking of eyes and Slime things.
It was a long time before he stopped.
•5•
There were two astounding sights, which presented themselves consecutively before him. In over two decades serving as one of the Hawkblood's top Assault Commanders, he had never seen anything more incredible than the Black Pyramid. That was, right up until the moment he saw the entire Pyramid vanish right before his eyes. If anything could be even more incredible than seeing the Pyramid; suddenly not seeing the Pyramid would have to be it.
Commander Ramses blinked several times, as if he were unable to trust what his eyes were showing him. The airspace beyond the windshield of his Glider Pod now showed only a sea of nothing, save for the Sky Gods higher up in the atmosphere.
"What the fuck? Where did it go?" he muttered to the empty cockpit.
The Glider Pods were designed to resemble plump black ravens. Ramses's Glider was slightly larger than the others in the fleet, as his was the Pod that carried most of the Big Weapons. Currently, they were in a V formation like actual birds; twelve in Ramses's group, twelve more in Commander Paulo's group that would have been approaching the Pyramid from behind; another twelve coming in from the right, making up Commander Gichi's group. The Gyff had their own Gliders, fashioned from wooden planks and some unknown material Ramses had never seen before. The Gyff ships looked a lot like the Gyff themselves; like long slender walking sticks. Their ships cut through the air like wooden missiles, lined up in a near row.
Ramses slapped the control panel, activating the Com-Cube. "Am I seeing things? Have I lost my mind?"
"No." It was the voice of Commander Gichi. She sounded uncharacteristically shaken. "The damn thing went POOF. Just like that."
The Gyff leading the stickbug group (his name was Kloom, if Ramses's memory served him) chimed in. "What do we do now? Will it reappear, you think?"
Ramses smacked the controls again, this time out of frustration. He said, "Somebody better get the Captain on the--"
"Already here," said the voice of Captain Heekan.
"You been listening this whole time?" Gichi asked.
"No. I just came on. Now listen. Everyone. Listen very closely. The Pyramid isn't in the valley anymore, but all is not lost. We will track it down. I already know where they took it."
Ramses gaped at this. "What? Captain... how could you already know all of that? It just vanished, only a few ticks ago."
Gichi made a soft gasping sound. "Captain. No. Tell me you didn't use it."
"I had to," Captain Heekan said with remorse. "The Mirror is too valuable a tool for us not to utilize it. And if ever there were a time when we needed it, it would be now."
"How many years did it take off your life?" Gichi asked hesitantly.
After a pause, Heekan said, "It doesn't matter. We're getting sidetracked here. There is a lot more going on than we realized. There are agents of not one, but two of the 5 Pharoahs here in the Wilden Green Valley, as we speak."
"What?" it was Gichi and Kloom in unison.
Commander Paulo broke his silence. "Which other Pharoah are we talking about?"
Heekan said, "Aside from Camaria the Butcher who we already knew about (it was one of her Scarabs that took the Pyramid), there's some of the Necromancer's men here too."
"The Necromancer?" Ramses said in disbelief. "The right hand man of Dowlmad the Deathless?" Ramses felt a cold chill run up his spine. "You're not telling me he is here in this valley, are you?"
"The Necromancer himself? No. Just some of his underlings. The Skinless Men, they're called."
Gichi asked, "Are they really all after the Pyramid and the Artifacts? I can't imagine two of the 5 Pharoahs would expend resources just for the stuff we're after. Aside for the Black Pyramid. But even still... something seems off here."
"Well," said Heekan. "That's because something is off. There are bigger forces at work here than we ever realized. Sure, they were after the Pyramid and the Divine Battery. But those are more like... party favors, to them."
Ramsese shook his head. "I already don't like how this sounds." The open sky outside his Glider suddenly felt less like empty airspace, and more like an endless abyss. One glance at the Sky Gods floating higher in the heavens strengthened this feeling, causing the commander to shudder as another chill ran up his back.
Captain Heekan said, "Then you really won't like what I'm about to tell you."
As it turned out, the Captain was absolutely right. Ramses really didn't like it one bit. None of them did.
•••
And Commander Ramses was not the only one who was told things they didn't like. While he was listening to his Captain's words with growing unease, elsewhere in the Wilden Green Valley, a certain Ranger was receiving a rather ominous warning...
•••
•6•
Deep within the bowels of the Reverse Tower. In the Domain of the Being known as O'Faxx.
Ranger Lexington stood atop the large boulder, surrounded by a sea of sludge. The putrid aroma of this place once more assaulted his senses, while his boots sank into the slick, squicky growth coating the boulder. Lexington's dragonfly-like features hid his discomfort. Outwardly, he appeared as stoic--as unshakeable--as always. At least, until he spoiled the effect with a knowing smirk.
To the bubbling muck, he called out: "So, you decided to help out afterall?"
There was no response.
Lexington's smirk faded. He bowed his head slightly. "It's alright. You don't have to speak. I only wish your assistance had been enough. That way Burlap wouldn't have had to give his life the way he did."
O'Faxx did not emerge from the murky depths.
Lexington would have sighed had the air quality in here not been so abhorrent. "Anyway, I just wanted to thank you. I will find a way to reward you."
Although O'Faxx remained beneath the muck, his voice echoed inside the Ranger's mind. "My actions were not on your behalf. Your ignorance betrays you, Overseer."
Lexington cocked his head to one side. "If you say so." He shrugged. "Some guys just can't accept a thank you, I guess."
"You have yet to understand. I helped you, to destroy you. None of you know yet what you are unleashing. I did not see the truth before, but the truth has now presented itself to me. The Gods wish to assemble the 12 and bring about the White Clock Consortion. Fools. They don't yet realize with the advent of the White Clock, the Black Clock follows. Those numbers shall count down their destruction. I looked into the destiny of the mortals you have placed so much faith in. I saw what they will bring about. They are one of the Four Winds that will blow upon the Door of Doom. One of them is a Paige of the Necronomicon."
"What does that mean? Quit speaking in riddles."
"There's a storm coming, Overseer. A storm that will wash away the world. This one, and all others. I haven't helped you. I've only helped the first few raindrops, so they might better form within the dark clouds hanging over this Pocket Realm. And in the wake of that rain? The thunder shall soon roll."
A storm coming. Four Winds that will blow upon the Doors of Destruction. Thunder.
These things made no sense to the Ranger. One thing was clear however; whatever O'Faxx's words meant, Lexington didn't like the sound of any of it.
•7•
There's a particular way Advisors and nobleJikk cry out when something disrupts their normal routine. It's a breathy sort of shriek, like someone emptying their lungs before they faint. Many of the High Advisors were voicing this exact variety of shriek now, as High Knight Pyx ordered his Spire Knights to arrest Lemma.
Temporary Councilor E'Shesh (to her credit) tried to block the path of the Knights. She was shoved out of the way, hard enough to cause the poor she-Jikk to tumble over onto the hard marble surface of the platform.
Then, underneath the makeshift gazebo, pandemonium set in. The stress of the attack on the city had already pushed everyone toward the brink of panic. This new development made them all leap right over the edge, falling right into the place people (Jikk, or otherwise) always fall in times like this one.
Lemma didn't run. She stood her ground, glowering at Pyx and Councilor Tholke; glaring as if she could knock some sense into them with her gaze alone. Of course, this was a futile endeavor. The Knights were upon here a moment later. Strong arms seized her, throwing her to the ground. Then, oddly enough, even stronger arms were lifting her from the floor. She stared down the Knights arresting her, but the expressions they gave her in return were not those of hardened Knights doing their duty. They were the expressions of Jikk who'd been caught completely off guard.
As she was lifted even higher, Lemma finally realized it wasn't the Knights who currently held her. It was someone else.
"What... who... what's going on?" she cried weakly.
She was being carried away by... one of the local tavern keepers?
"What's happening? What are you doing?" she demanded.
"She's getting away!" someone shouted.
"After her!" a Spire Knight ordered.
All at once, the Knights were airborne, in pursuit. The air was alive with the sound of buzzing wings, the shuffling and frantic falls of boots, and so much shouting. Lemma dangled over seemingly bottomless trenches and crumbling remnants of the City That Once Was.
The tavern keeper, in all this time, had only explained himself with a single grunt. Now, he was using his free arm to aim some kind of weapon at the Knights.
"No," Lemma pleaded. "Don't kill them. They're only doing their duty."
"Stun-shot," said the elderly tavern keeper. The words came an instant before his weapon discharged and the air behind them exploded in brilliant blue electricity. There was a loud series of crackling sounds, as the small-scale controlled lightning tore through each of the Knights. As if an invisible net had ensnared them, the Knights all froze in midair a moment, before their wings slowed to a standstill. They began to plummet down to the darkness below.
The tavern keeper voiced a soft grunt of regret.
"You can say that again," Lemma scolded. "The shot may have stunned them, but the fall will surely do a whole lot more. What's the meaning of this? Are you kidnapping me?"
The tavern keeper shook his head. "Behind you," he said. They climbed higher, closing in on the stone wall of the spacious cavern.
Lemma craned her neck to look back at the platform. What she saw horrified her. Hight Knight Pyx and Councilor Tholke. Even from this far away, she could see that their eyes appeared to have ruptured. From the vacant holes where their eyes had been, large fat yellow worms as long as sword blades were spilling out onto the platform. Each worm slapped down onto the marble, then immediately began to grow in size. Within mere seconds, each one grew to the size of a Field Roamer pup. And they only continued getting bigger.
The Advsiors and officials broke into a stampede, making for the platform's only exit; the flight of stone steps leading up to the passageway before street level.
"Gods," Lemma whispered. "We have to seal off the exit. We can't let those... those things make it up to the city."
But based on the ever-increasing size of the worms, and their ever-growing numbers, she feared it might already be too late.
"Hurry! Come on!" someone shouted, just ahead.
Lemma turned toward the sound of the voice. She saw a Jikk standing atop a stone ledge, high up on the cavern wall. She didn't recognize him.
A second later, the tavern keeper brought her down to a gentle landing on the ledge beside the unfamiliar Jikk. She eyed them both suspiciously. "Just what is going on? And who is this?"
"My name is Flower-Seed. And we've got to get the fuck out of here, Councilor."
The tavern keeper asked, "How can we seal it off?"
Lemma thought for a moment. "You came through there?" She pointed to the large gap behind Flower-Seed.
"We did," said the tavern keeper.
"Then we might be able to beat the worms to the surface. There's a secret tunnel in the cave ceiling, a little further on. Come on. We have to get to the statue of Kylo the Great, up in the Cobbler's District. There's a hidden lever inside. I know the code to turn it. It will seal off the Old City. It's our only chance."
"Then let's get moving," said Flower-Seed.
The tavern keeper only grunted his agreement.
Together, the three of them took off at a sprint. There truly wasn't a single moment to spare...
•8•
Rave spotted the figures below, standing patiently beside a gnarled, leafless gatortree. He came to a landing, just a few yards from them. Eight pairs of cold, dark eyes peered out from eight fleshless humanoid faces, considering him with an alien species of indifference.
A long black case was tucked beneath Rave's right arm. In his left hand, he clutched his Rune Stone expectantly. Any moment now, Nollo would be giving him the word that the deed was done. Any moment now. Rave had an internal clock that kept near perfect timing when it came to things like murder.
Sure enough, the Rune Stone began to grow warmer to Rave's touch.
Nollo's voice came through the Stone. "Boss?"
Rave grinned with what remained of his ruined mouth. "It's done?"
"It's done," Nollo confirmed.
"Good. I'd expect nothing less. You know where I'll be?"
"Yes, sire. I'll see you there shorly."
Rave didn't bother giving a final response. He put the Stone away and took the black case into his hands. The Skinless Men only watched him patiently.
Rave approached the figures beneath the gnarled tree. This was a remote region of Jikkellia's borderlands, where the high grasses gave way to miles of mostly barren dirt and rock. The gatortree stood out, in that it was one of the few trees on the visible landscape here. Just over the horizon, was the large mountain where a certain group of outsiders were rumored to have crashed in a small rowing vessel recently.
Rave waited for one of the skinless men to speak first. When none did, he said: "A lot of people wanted this Horn. You just so happened to be the only ones offering more than coin." This was a half-truth. The Sky Pirates had spoken of coin, but had in reality, offered only betrayal. "I've kept up my end. Now, I expect you to keep yours."
Rave's mind calculated dozens of ways he could slaughter each of these figures, should they show any sign of aggression. It was just how his brain operated. He plotted ways to thwart threats that hadn't even been presented yet. In this line of business, you had to stay twelve moves ahead.
Right on time, Rave's reinforcements arrived. He'd been doing these kinds of deals for far too long to ever go by himself. Even if he did feel confident enough in his abilities that he wasn't weary of the figures before him. Even in a 1 v. 8 duel to the death, he was certain he'd have the upper hand.
Four mothmen mercs landed just behind Rave--keeping their distance but standing at the ready. Rave didn't so much as glance at them. He casually stepped away from his foot soldiers and moved closer to the Skinless Men. "So, how about it? You said you had a way to get us out of this valley. Is that still true?"
One of the figures (there was really no way for Rave to tell the apart, as they all looked like carbon copies of each other) nodded. "We represent Pharoah Dowlmad. Pharoah Dowlmad always keeps his word. Give us the Black Horn and we shall give you freedom from this place."
Rave said nothing a moment. At last, he nodded. "Alright. I'll take you at your word." He slowly held out the case, offering it to one of the figures. The skinless man eagerly accepted the Artifact. He lifted the lid and removed the item inside, handing it to one of the others.
The Black Horn of the Olde Music looked like the hollowed-out horn of some bovine creature, like those Rave had seen sketched in old tomes. Aside from the fact it was black as obsidian, of course. There was a silver mouthpiece banded around the narrow end. That was all there was to the object. All in all, it was rather unimpressive looking by Artifact standards.
The other man examined it for several seconds, before deciding he was satisfied. He nodded back to the first man who took the Horn and returned it to its case.
"So," Rave said, taking on a tone of casual conversation while feigning ignorance. "What does that thing do, anyhow?"
The Skinless Men only regarded him coldly.
Rave nodded, flashing a half grin. "Fair enough. Now... as for your part of the bargain?"
"Yes," said the man holding the case. "You want your entire company to leave this valley? Return to us when you are all together. Some of us will remain here in this spot. We will give you three sunrises after sundown today. If you aren't here by then, we cannot wait any longer."
"We'll return long before then," Rave said.
There didn't seem to be anything more to say. He turned and motioned to the other mercs. "Let's head out. We'll regroup with the others and get everything underway."

Like this if you think No Jumper is done

What do you think of this text exchange between Tyler and Wednesday?
On Wednesday morning, Tyler woke up to a text sent at 3am from an unknown number.
W: I know what you did last summer.
It didn't take a genius to guess who it was. He saved the new contact in his phone, not even questioning how she got his number.
T: You can't prove anything I know how to cover my tracks. :)
Surprisingly, Wednesday was awake still, or again at 8am, because he immediately received a reply.
W: What does that punctuation signify?
T: It’s a smile, turn it sideways.
W: I thought a benefit of texting was not having to convey facial expressions.
T: Did you get a phone just so you could text me? ;)
W: Don't be ridiculous. I'm using Thing's phone, he needed one in order to stay in touch with Enid.
T: Thing. Your tarantula?
W: Do you know of any other?
T: It sucks not seeing you at the Weathervane.
W: Maybe you'll be unpleasantly surprised. Maybe the Weathervane will be robbed at gunpoint during your shift.
T: Fingers crossed. Doubtful though seeing as we never have more than $40 in the register.
W: Make sure no one takes my booth. I'm going to sleep now.
T: Night, Wednesday. Hope I star in your nightmares.
He sent the message, not really expecting a reply. But a minute later, his phone chimed.
W: You already do.
Wednesday stared at the screen, not quite able to believe the point she had reached. She sat in the most dimly lit study with her laptop. She had sequestered herself there for 18 hours a day since flying home, with the notable exception of the solstice celebration.
Chapter 8 had to be re-written entirely, twice.
Chapter 13 had taken her weeks to finish at the Weathervane.
But now there was just one more left to write. The conclusion. The reveal. The end.
And she had no idea where to begin.
Her mind strayed to the conversation she had with her mother, as they were making the preparations for the celebration of an endless night.
"What type of poison could cause one to feel hot and cold at the same time?" She had asked.
Her mother pursed her lips at the question, thinking. "What do you mean?"
"When you shiver and your palms sweat, in reaction to- to certain visuals, or sounds. What chemical could achieve this?"
"I don't think I've ever heard of such a specific toxin, have you been exposed to something?"
"That is what I am trying to determine, mother. I know of no one else more experienced in this field."
Her mother muttered about various plants, listing symptoms out loud. Occasionally she would ask Wednesday if she had experienced this type of symptom, if she had eaten that type of fruit.
And then, her mother smiled.
"Oh, my cruel and unusual child of woe, your symptoms- it means someone has touched your black heart." Tears sprung in her mother's eyes.
"Mother, do not speak in riddles."
"Apologies, I get carried away when it comes to these things. Who is it that is making you feel this way?"
"I never said it was a person." Morticia arched an eyebrow.
"A barista." Wednesday muttered.
"A barista?"
"It's the word for someone who works in a coffee shop."
"Yes, I am aware. Would you like to tell me more about this barista?"
"...No."
"Very well, little devil. The poison in your veins, the venom that this barista has introduced to your bloodstream is the most all-consuming, deadly substance humanity has ever known."
Oh no, she thought.
"I couldn't be happier for you, Wednesday. I hope we get to meet your barista soon."
She had been plagued with nightmares night after night, but they were not the usual nightmares she enjoyed. Dirty blond curls, soft smiles, and the smell of coffee pervaded her dreams. She had taken to sleeping with the lid of her coffin open, after waking up overheated and feeling much too alive.
Her phone- aka "Thing's" phone- vibrated. Tyler was the only one who had her number. She thought maybe there was something wrong with the piece of technology; it seemed to send jolts of electricity through her heart every time it went off.
T: You are not gonna believe what happened to me the other day. A female from my job asked me on a date. I Obviously, I said no. I think the solstice made him go temporarily insane.
The winter solstice celebration was one of the few gatherings Wednesday did not mind attending. Unlike most parties her family hosted, the winter solstice was subdued. It was a celebration of quiet, of stillness. The long night did not trigger insanity, but rather, lucidity.
W: The effect of the Winter Solstice spirit is to weaken the foundations of the lies we tell ourselves. In the endless night, we may shed our disguises and embrace our inner darkness without fear.
T: That’s…hauntingly beautiful.
T: So, when you said you already dream about me, were you channeling the solstice spirit?
She was reminded of something she read by the psychoanalyst Carl Jung, the rejected student of Freud: "People will do anything, no matter how absurd, in order to avoid facing their own souls. One does not become enlightened by imagining figures of light, but by making the darkness conscious."
Wednesday pressed a button on the screen firmly with the pad of her thumb.
"H-hey Wednesday. I didn't expect you to call. Not that I mind, it's good to hear from you."
She had ruled out possession. Neither was this the effect of some poison she was experiencing. It was unlikely she had succumbed to an airborne virus to which everyone around her was immune.
"I'm requesting that you turn down all other invitations for dates until further notice."
"Wednesday, I-" Tyler started to say something but she wasn't finished.
"I realize I have no right to ask this. You said I do not owe you anything, and that applies in reverse as well. But I want you, and I want you to be available to be mine when I am finished with my novel."
Over the phone, she could hear Tyler's sudden inhale.
"I'm already yours," he said, in a voice just above a whisper.
But that wasn't entirely true, Wednesday thought. She had a chapter plus editing left in her novel, and Tyler could have any number of admirers walking into the Weathervane in that time. It was pure luck that he had gone this long without being tempted by someone else. She just needed to keep writing.
"I'm stuck," she admitted, after a long pause.
"On your book? How much do you have left?"
"It's the last chapter, I don't know how to start it."
Tyler hummed. "I'm not sure how I can help. I skipped at least an entire semester of English classes in high school."
Since he wasn't going to be able to help with her writing, Wednesday thought that would be her cue to hang up. She stayed on the line.
"How do you usually start a new chapter?" He asked.
"I start where the last chapter left off, and continue the story. But that's not working. Viper is…"
"No spoilers, especially if this is at the end." He had a good point.
"Viper is…about to do something she hasn't done before. It is not a simple task, and it could go horribly wrong." Hopefully that doesn't give too much away, she thought.
"So, is she excited? Nervous?"
"She's terrified," Wednesday said, and it felt like a confession.
Tyler cleared his throat. "Well, seemed like from the first book, Viper wasn't the kind to scare easily. But you- but Viper probably has been at least kind of afraid, at some point in her life. So how did you- she- how did Viper handle it before?"
"She thinks danger is intriguing, and she finds violence entertaining."
"That doesn't mean she isn't afraid of anything, just means she could be scared of something, uh, not dangerous or violent."
How did Viper act in the face of fear? This is what Wednesday was stuck on. Some of the other characters cowered, or made stupid mistakes when confronted with their nightmares. That could not be Viper, she wouldn't write it.
And then it struck her, the understanding of her main character. She knew how to start the chapter; she saw everything in the final part of the story clearly outlined in her head.
"This was helpful. I'm hanging up now."
She ended the call, not waiting for Tyler to respond. She had a book to finish writing.
In the morning, Wednesday had texted him saying she was going to be late coming to the Weathervane the next day. He still felt his shoulders sag in disappointment when he got there and she wasn't in her usual booth.
He served four people their coffee and tea in the first three hours of his shift. His mind kept going back to one of the kids who had clearly been upset about something that morning, but declined every offer to talk. It was difficult to keep himself busy, distracted enough to keep from prodding at what he could have done better.
When it was an hour before closing time and Wednesday still hadn't shown up, he thought about texting her. She never actually said how late she was going to be though, he reasoned.
Ten minutes until close, he shot her a quick message -everything ok?- before grabbing a broom to start sweeping the empty shop.
Several minutes passed, and he never heard his phone ping with an answer. But that was okay, because the door chimed and when he called out that they were closed, Wednesday answered.
"Then you should lock your doors. There's some real sick people out there."
"Wasn't sure you were coming in today," he smiled.
"I was finalizing my draft. I've sent it to the publisher for editing."
"Congrats," his lips felt dry all of a sudden, and she took a step closer to him. "So how long-"
"I was told I would receive feedback in 7 to 10 business days. Then, based on how long the first novel took, I will spend another four weeks defending my masterpiece from being shredded. My novel will be published in a few months."
She took another step closer, and his pulse sped up.
"So, you have some free time coming up?"
"Unfortunately, no," she said, causing his heart to stop. "I plan on using that time to participate in the social convention of dating, and spending as much time with you as you will tolerate."
"Oh."
She moved into him. Her head tilted up, he bent his neck to let her press her lips against his.
It was like he'd drunk four shots of espresso and been shot with a tranquilizer. She was so gentle he thought he might shatter from her touch.
He pulled away to look at her for a moment, fighting the urge to pinch himself. He didn't want to wake up if this was a dream. The flat line of her mouth he was used to was gone, replaced by a smile. The sight made him vow silently to get on his knees and beg for her to smile again, later. She had dimples.
Slowly, he cradled her chin, wanting to be as gentle with her as she was with him. They kissed again, and this time he couldn't have told you under oath which of them leaned in first.
For all Wednesday's sharp edges and blunt words, her lips were soft and pliant. He sighed into them, tracing her jawline with his thumb. Tentatively, he brushed his tongue across her lips, and she gasped.
"Woah," she put a few inches of space between them. She began to rock back onto her heels, then forward again onto her toes, swaying back and forth.
"Everything okay?" He asked, and she nodded.
"I'm…it's called stimming, it happens sometimes. When things are a lot," she explained.
He took half a step back, to give her more space. "A lot, in a good way or a bad way?"
"In this case, torturously good." Her smile was back, and his knees were weak.
His stomach gave an audible growl, and he realized it was getting late, and he still needed to close up shop.
"Might be time to call it a night," he said reluctantly. "I'm kind of… well, I'm exhausted."
"You worked ten hours today," Wednesday reminded him. Right, because somehow she knew his schedule, though he'd never told her.
"Yeah. But, this weekend, can I take you out?"
"Depends, do you mean take me out as in assassinate me or take me out on a date?"
"The latter. This time, anyway." He shot her a wink, just because.
"Sunday, you may consume my time."
"Great. I've got a scary movie I've been dying to show you. At my place, since you apparently already know where I live." He was looking forward to seeing her reaction to Legally Blonde.
"I will leave, so you can lock up and go home. But first," she rocked towards him again, and her hand used his chest for support as she kissed him once more. It was just as perfect as the first time.
"Goodnight, Tyler. I hope I star in your nightmares," she said, as she walked out the door.
My sweetest dreams couldn't even compare, he thought, watching her go.
It was too easy, on Sunday, to slip past the front door of Tyler's apartment complex as another person walked out. He told her to call him when she arrived so that he could buzz her in, but where was the fun in that? If he wanted to surprise her with the movie they would be watching, she would repay the favor.
She climbed the staircase, noting for future reference which stairs creaked when she stepped on them, as a force of habit. She was looking for door number 32. The numbering system made her itch. It was not 32 as in the 32nd unit, but 32 as in the 3rd floor, 2nd unit. It should be 3-2. How cheap was the landlord that they couldn't afford a hyphen, she thought to herself.
Her fingers straightened the hem of her dress with every step. Enid had insisted on coming over to "help her decide what to wear," insisting it had some degree of importance. Since she had seen Tyler at least two days a week for almost the entirety of last semester, she was sure at this point that none of her clothes would be new to him. Enid failed to understand this logic, which was a consistent pattern in their friendship.
"Nothing too tight and uncomfortable, since you're watching a movie. But you don't really do tight and uncomfortable, anyway. Oh, maybe you can sneak off and lower the thermostat so you have an excuse to cuddle!"
She reminded Enid that she enjoyed the cold, but the blonde wasn't really paying attention to her, rifling through her closet. Eventually, she picked out one of her black dresses; an A-line style with a white Ganado pattern along the edges of the short sleeves and hem. Wednesday bought it for the same reasons most clothing items made it into her wardrobe; it was black, and the tag didn't make her long for death's sweet embrace.
At last, she stood in front of door 32. She wiped her palms down the front of her dress, and reminded herself that she, like Viper, charged towards fear without hesitation; with eagerness, even. Yes, typically it was to instill fear in others, but the same logic applied here.
She texted Tyler to let him know she had arrived. It pleased her when he opened his door and jumped.
"Woah, hey, I thought you meant you were like, outside. I take it someone let you in?"
"The security here is non-existent."
"Well, I'd invite you in, but we aren't actually going to stay here. One sec-" he left her standing at the door. When he returned, it was with two mixing bowls filled with popcorn.
"Here, hold this. We're going down to the basement."
Wednesday thought that the feeling she got low in her stomach, whenever Tyler smiled at her, might ease up after they'd kissed. She was mistaken; if anything, it got worse.
Tyler explained on the way down that shortly before he moved in, someone had hung themselves in the basement of the building. Since then, none of the tenants went down there, even though there was a laundry room for them to use. Everyone else elected to use a nearby laundromat because they thought the lower level was haunted, which Tyler said was unwarranted, unfortunately.
"I do my laundry down here all the time, no ghosts or poltergeists have bothered to introduce themselves," he explained. "And isn't the point of suicide like, to escape the world of the living? And this guy, I looked it up, he had his will notarized, visited some distant relatives, tied up all his loose ends in the weeks before. Not sure why a spirit would stick around, in that case. In the movies they're always saying ghosts haunt places because of unfinished business. I could see maybe if someone was murdered, that might be the case. But this guy finished his business. Why would he haunt a world he wanted to leave, you know?"
Wednesday let the cadence of Tyler's voice soothe her nerves. However, her apprehension returned swiftly when they got to the bottom of the stairs, when he asked if she would close her eyes for him. He gave her a warning before holding her shoulders to lead her inside - a smart move, as he could have broken a finger, otherwise.
She opened her eyes when he said so, to see string lights wrapped around piping that ran along the low ceiling. A white bed sheet hung from the cinder block wall, with a projector on a stand in front of it. Several blankets and cushions were arranged on the floor.
"I didn't actually ask permission to borrow the projector from the school, but it had been sitting in storage since the beginning of the year," he divulged.
She was disproportionately impressed by his petty theft. She would have thought a boy would at least have to break into a vault, not simply raid a supply closet, to make her feel special.
"So, you think the film you've picked will actually scare me?"
"Oh, I'm pretty confident. Prepare to be horrified." She shivered at his smile. She sat leaning against a cushion, popcorn bowl in her lap, as he started the movie.
Sun's up It's a little after 12 Make breakfast for myself Leave the work for someone else People say They say that it's just a phase They tell me to act my age Well, I am! On this perfect day…
It was indeed a grotesque picture. Wednesday was thoroughly creeped out by the crying in the first few minutes of the film, which was not from physical pain or psychosis. Pink, everywhere. It only got worse from there. This Elle Woods was worse than the antichrist, and terrifyingly intelligent for such a demonic creature.
"That was torture. Thank you."
He turned off the projector. When came back to sit down next to her, his shoulders hunched up, and his smile wavered.
"I'm just gonna come out and say it. I want to call you my girlfriend."
She had done several hours of research in preparation for the experience of dating. Multiple sources said that the timing of this kind of proposal/request should be carefully considered.
"You're making a mistake. There is a three-date rule before you can say that, and everything I've read says there are consequences for not following it."
She couldn't decipher Tyler's expression, his eyebrows looked concerned but he was smiling.
"Wednesday, the only rules we have to follow are the ones we set for ourselves. No one else gets to decide for us how we want to, uh, do this."
She considered this information. "That might explain the inconsistencies I found in my research."
His arm stretched across the propped-up cushion behind her head, hand laying casually beside her shoulder. She thought back to the way he'd held her chin the other night in the Weathervane. The combination of his lips on hers, while his thumb moved down her jaw was an entirely unique sensation that seemed to spread out to the rest of her body. She wanted to repeat the experience.
"So…what do you say?"
If she were to be his girlfriend, then accordingly…"You would be mine? My boyfriend?"
"Naturally." His eyes glinted in the glow of the string lights, she noticed.
"This is acceptable. You should kiss me now."
Tyler leaned forward, and followed her direction exactly.
From “Coffee and Change.”
View Poll

So through out a lot of AD's tenure on the Lakers, specifically this year, I feel like the team has done a pretty poor job of running the offense through AD and I decided to try and break down some recent film to look more into it. He makes plenty of mistakes so this post isn't attempting to absolve blame, but more just give constructive criticism to how he's being used offensively. Because of this I'm gonna focus on taking somewhat rare examples of the Lakers making smart decisions around AD to point out what they should do more often rather than just posting low lights
​
Very curious for other's thoughts on what I'm suggesting they do more of, if you think the analysis is fair, or if you think you have even better ideas on how the team should be utilizing Davis
​
PS This is my first time doing this so I'm very open to constructive criticism as there's at least a chance I'll try and do more stuff like this in the future
​
Lets start with some examples of lack of off ball movement:
​
In this clip you see the entire defense focused on him. Rui cuts to the middle of the paint but he cuts to a place where there's no open passing lane, but there's no meaningful movement on offense and it leads to a lazy iso jumper.
​
In this one you see something somewhat similar with vando cutting to the middle, AD being doubled with every player looking at him. He misses the shot but the lack off off ball movement just makes it incredibly easy for the defense to focus on him while cutting off passing lanes.
​
Now if you watch the Lakers you've seen a ton of plays like this, especially since the raptors spent most of the game selling out to stop AD recently. The rest of the team stepped up in that game and punished the raptors for their scheme but as teams replicate the strategy its made the holes in the rest of the lakers offense much more clear. I'm not gonna spam a bunch more clips like the two before, but just wanted to give you examples of how the lakers offense running through AD is often just getting AD in iso and hoping he can beat a double/triple (which is obviously a terrible way to run an offense).
​
Dibble hand off (aka DHO) potential:
​
Here you see a DHO between AD and Reaves where ADs defender drops, reaves defender picks him up giving reaves a solid look. Not only this but Brown Jr's defender slides to reaves creating a wide open 3 on top of everything else
​
Plays like that open up opportunities like this where you can get Davis in single coverage once again because the defense has to respect his teammates on some level
​
Now after you've established the threat of that it leads to plays where teams have to respect it, once again giving the best player on the team easy looks
​
Off Ball cuts:
​
AD isn't jokic but there are 100% ways you can set him up for easy passes to help create shots for others like this.
​
Cutting more even when AD isnt the focal point of the play can open up shots for him as well. He can be very effective off ball, and the more you can do stuff like this the harder it is for a coach to solely rely on swarming him
​
Guard Screen potential:
​
Here you have Beasley screen for Davis setting him up to take a midrange jumper. As we all know this isnt the exact spot you want AD shooting, but its so much better than what you see far too often -- him being swarmed with no one working to get open, often resulting in far worse jumpers
​
He misses this and once again its not ideal but seeing them try something like this is still an improvement over a lot of their stagnant possessions
​
Id love to see them explore using guards as screeners off ball too when AD has the ball to create open shots for shooters while AD is posted up with the ball. Opening up a couple good shots for him to easily pass out to could really force teams to focus more time, energy and attention on the perimeter. This isn't a perfect example of that but its at least them using motion off ball to actually take advantage of the gravity AD creates so regularly
​
Pick n Rolls (aka PnRs):
​
This is an obvious one because AD is obviously a great lob threat, but I still feel as if the team doesn't try and use PnRs to their advantage as much as they should (LeBron coming back could help this a lot tbf)
​
The play doesn't even have to be trying to force AD the ball, you can use it to open up passes to other players, which can in turn get enough of the defenses attention to get him open looks if the defense respects the other players just a bit
​
A similar example to the last
​
A play like this requires the defense respecting the guard on the roll, but this is the sort of pay off we can also see as we punish teams more from doubling AD. This is very achievable with LeBron, was a staple of the 2020 run, and yet its just severely under utilized even when he's playing
​
Another example of an imperfect jumper that's still much better than a ton of their offensive possessions
​
TLDR: Darvin Ham is bastard man and I probably spent too much time on this lol

I was having sex 1 week after abortion with no pain. Today after 3 weeks I noticed that my vagina felt shorter than usual as if my cervix was lower causing some discomfort, sharp pain during intercourse. Is this normal?

So through out a lot of AD's tenure on the Lakers, specifically this year, I feel like the team has done a pretty poor job of running the offense through AD and I decided to try and break down some recent film to look more into it. He makes plenty of mistakes so this post isn't attempting to absolve blame, but more just give constructive criticism to how he's being used offensively. Because of this I'm gonna focus on taking somewhat rare examples of the Lakers making smart decisions around AD to point out what they should do more often rather than just posting low lights
​
Very curious for other's thoughts on what I'm suggesting they do more of, if you think the analysis is fair, or if you think you have even better ideas on how the team should be utilizing Davis
​
PS This is my first time doing this so I'm very open to constructive criticism as there's at least a chance I'll try and do more stuff like this in the future
​
Lets start with some examples of lack of off ball movement:
​
In this clip you see the entire defense focused on him. Rui cuts to the middle of the paint but he cuts to a place where there's no open passing lane, but there's no meaningful movement on offense and it leads to a lazy iso jumper.
​
In this one you see something somewhat similar with vando cutting to the middle, AD being doubled with every player looking at him. He misses the shot but the lack off off ball movement just makes it incredibly easy for the defense to focus on him while cutting off passing lanes.
​
Now if you watch the Lakers you've seen a ton of plays like this, especially since the raptors spent most of the game selling out to stop AD recently. The rest of the team stepped up in that game and punished the raptors for their scheme but as teams replicate the strategy its made the holes in the rest of the lakers offense much more clear. I'm not gonna spam a bunch more clips like the two before, but just wanted to give you examples of how the lakers offense running through AD is often just getting AD in iso and hoping he can beat a double/triple (which is obviously a terrible way to run an offense).
​
Dibble hand off (aka DHO) potential:
​
Here you see a DHO between AD and Reaves where ADs defender drops, reaves defender picks him up giving reaves a solid look. Not only this but Brown Jr's defender slides to reaves creating a wide open 3 on top of everything else
​
Plays like that open up opportunities like this where you can get Davis in single coverage once again because the defense has to respect his teammates on some level
​
Now after you've established the threat of that it leads to plays where teams have to respect it, once again giving the best player on the team easy looks
​
Off Ball cuts:
​
AD isn't jokic but there are 100% ways you can set him up for easy passes to help create shots for others like this.
​
Cutting more even when AD isnt the focal point of the play can open up shots for him as well. He can be very effective off ball, and the more you can do stuff like this the harder it is for a coach to solely rely on swarming him
​
Guard Screen potential:
​
Here you have Beasley screen for Davis setting him up to take a midrange jumper. As we all know this isnt the exact spot you want AD shooting, but its so much better than what you see far too often -- him being swarmed with no one working to get open, often resulting in far worse jumpers
​
He misses this and once again its not ideal but seeing them try something like this is still an improvement over a lot of their stagnant possessions
​
Id love to see them explore using guards as screeners off ball too when AD has the ball to create open shots for shooters while AD is posted up with the ball. Opening up a couple good shots for him to easily pass out to could really force teams to focus more time, energy and attention on the perimeter. This isn't a perfect example of that but its at least them using motion off ball to actually take advantage of the gravity AD creates so regularly
​
Pick n Rolls (aka PnRs):
​
This is an obvious one because AD is obviously a great lob threat, but I still feel as if the team doesn't try and use PnRs to their advantage as much as they should (LeBron coming back could help this a lot tbf)
​
The play doesn't even have to be trying to force AD the ball, you can use it to open up passes to other players, which can in turn get enough of the defenses attention to get him open looks if the defense respects the other players just a bit
​
A similar example to the last
​
A play like this requires the defense respecting the guard on the roll, but this is the sort of pay off we can also see as we punish teams more from doubling AD. This is very achievable with LeBron, was a staple of the 2020 run, and yet its just severely under utilized even when he's playing
​
Another example of an imperfect jumper that's still much better than a ton of their offensive possessions
​
TLDR: Darvin Ham is bastard man and I probably spent too much time on this lol

When TRell first came in he wasn’t as know as the other cast members, but his charisma and the connection he formed with the people pushed him to be the most integral part of the show. This wasn’t really recognizable or comparable until all of the other cast members made their own platforms. Adam been complaining about the channel losing money, so after Lush got fired, Adam wanted to give that money to TRell, but 1. The timing couldn’t have been worse, and 2. TRell has to be a team player if everyone else leaves. I think the other former members should not block Trell’s blessings, and let him get a fat ass check from NoJumper now that they are gone, and really don’t offer as much to the show as he does… no offense. It’s a business and the channel shouldn’t be losing money