Book 1, Seize The Deity - Zelda X Peach ALPHA VER 0.7.d.1

Seize the Deity page 1 of 310
Seize the Deity

A Zelda x Peach femslash-fic
pseudo-historical romance
by Charles A. Rockafellor
WARNING:
Adult content and multiple triggers. Reader discretion is strongly advised.
Absolutely NOT for minors.
LEGAL DISCLAIMER:
Most of the characters (some liberties having been taken with their personalities and physical features)
and all of the artwork (except for the world map) are not mine, and there are a number of pop-culture
references and quotes that certainly aren't mine either, nor are the songs. About the only things that I
can lay any claim to are the story line itself, most (not all) of the recipes (insofar as any given recipe is
ever truly one's own), some of the geography, a game, and some weird musical instruments and
ConLangs.
NB: See https://archiveofourown.org/works/24232528 for most recent completed version (and

minor edits sometimes).
Book 1, Seize the Deity -- Zelda x Peach ALPHA VER 0.7.d.1 + AO3.odt
© 2018-2019 Charles A. Rockafellor
~~~ ~~~ ~~~
With Sonic, Tails, and Ruru by her side, Zelda seeks to wrest control of the world back
from the clutches of Warbotdorf, but the task is made all the more difficult when a
seeming innocent stumbles into her life.
Her heart grown cold from nearly a decade of battle and betrayal, Zelda finds Peach,
a caring soul – but she also knows that evil lives to present the face of innocence while
seeking the ruination of all. In a world where a narcissist has taken control of the
empire, can love find its way into the heart of the imperial princess?
Fighting the bad guy was one thing, but to fight her own heart as well would sap the
last of her strength.
~~~ ~~~ ~~~
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Dramatis Personæ......................................................................................................................................6
Chapter 1: The Maiden of Chapel Perilous.............................................................................................10
Chapter 2: The Perils of Peach................................................................................................................26
Chapter 3: Pills and Swills......................................................................................................................72
Chapter 4: D............................................................................................................................................95
Chapter 5: Úlairi....................................................................................................................................110
Chapter 6: Home... home, again............................................................................................................120
Chapter 7: The Fall of the House of Duhan..........................................................................................129
Chapter 8: Semper crescis, aut decrescis..............................................................................................149
Epilogue: Coming in from the cold.......................................................................................................166
Prequel sneak preview: Zelda Invictus.................................................................................................180
Prequel sneak preview: Sonic's Redemption........................................................................................182
Sequel sneak preview: I am Legion......................................................................................................184
Afterword...............................................................................................................................................185
APPENDIX A: The Soundtrack............................................................................................................213
APPENDIX B: Deleted and Alternative scenes....................................................................................216
APPENDIX C: Tails's and Ruru's game................................................................................................220
APPENDIX D: Tails's quantum question.............................................................................................225
APPENDIX E: lelɹli family of Faerie conlangs....................................................................................231
APPENDIX F: Recipes.........................................................................................................................254
APPENDIX G: The World....................................................................................................................294
SCRIBBLED NOTES TO GET BACK TO...........................................................................................297
EDITORIAL NOTE:
This is an ALPHA version. The file name indicates my estimation of its

completeness so far (e.g.: 0.3 would indicate a guess of ~30% of the final version).
Some portions are fairly complete and polished, others are scripted outlines, and
some bits are just inserted short notes. Text in RED font indicates material that I
expect to edit (usually) or delete (probably struck-through).
I will keep this note throughout the alpha and beta versions (eventually updating it
slightly when the story finally reaches beta phase).
If you wish to share this, then share the folder's URL (rather than the .pdf's URL) – I
replace the documents when I upload new versions:
https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/1BG7P_sVezz8Dn5b8js_34yeAjSBhfN0v
The URL above also holds a sub-folder (at the URL below) that contains several spin-
off stories related to “Seize the Deity” in particular – and at least one right now (“Meat
pies”) that's set in Jötunheimr – of the greater cosmography of the “Icewall” meta-
setting:
https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/1MPusb6PkF-P7O28RAuzF55mdQfrb_Xgo
Simplest of all, just go to

https://archiveofourown.org/users/Charles_Rockafellor/collections
Also: please note that while the hyperlinks to websites seem unaffected, the internal
hyperlinks to other areas within this .pdf seem to function only before uploading and
after downloading – for some reason, they seem to be nonfunctional when the .pdf is
viewed while it's still on my Google Drive.
RULE: Any world (no matter how improbable) in a spatiotemporally infinite rule-based random
universe is virtually certain to exist (merely occupying a smaller portion of phase space).
Corollary: Any world that someone thinks is “cool,” given sufficiently advanced means of production,
is virtually certain to be produced.
Zelda series:
Book 0a, Zelda Invictus

Book 0b, Sonic's Redemption
Book 1, Seize the Deity -- Zelda x Peach
08a Deathclaw, the tale of Mister Fluffykins (Zelda x Peach)
08 Alexander's horned cabinet (Zelda x Peach)
10 Sock hop (Zelda x Peach)
28 Nightmare at 20,000 RPM (Zelda x Peach)
Book 1a, What evil lurks
Book 2, I am Legion
Light World sidequels:
07 To be (Zelda x Peach world)
Icewall shared universe:
Icewall
05 Meat pies (Icewall setting, Jötunheimr)
Book 1b, Nyjötnar Saga
Book 1c, The Colony
Book 1d, Tales from The Ice
...and many more at

https://archiveofourown.org/users/Charles_Rockafellor/collections
/// --- ///

Dramatis Personæ
► Return to contents ◄
Imperial Princess Zelda Hylia of Hyrule, a Hylian, arguably the protagonist
Royal Princess Peach Toadstool of the Mushroom Kingdom, a half-Human, debatably the deuteragonist
Sonic the Hedgehog

Miles “Tails” Prower
Ruru, a Kaijin
High-Royal Princess Daisy Sarasa of Sarasaland, a Human and cousin to Princess Peach
Donkey Kong
Princess Kitana of Edenia
Wila “Friday” Mesquite, a Deku Scrub

Warbotdorf, the Big Bad
Shīfù Lǎorén, the Immortal Wombat [no picture available]
O ~~~ O
Chapter 1: The Maiden of Chapel Perilous

A figure clad in shades of darkness glided through the shadows of the great hall. It made its way
silently across the floor and up the stair. When it entered the room, it stilled, absorbing the profound
change in décor. Where there had been steel and stonework and harsh-scented torches, this room was
soft with satin-weave silk, a scent of honeysuckle permeating the whole. The woman who rose from
the bed – barely more than a girl really, clearly not yet having reached her twentieth year – was
instantly recognizable, though much more curvaceous than her P.R. posters gave her credit for. Peach.
Princess Peach Toadstool of House Toadstool, from the Mushroom Kingdom.
Ahh, for a night in her bed, her golden curls cascading all about...
Looking deep into violet eyes barely seen between shadows and olive-complected café au lait skin,
Peach proclaimed herself the taken prize. A pleasant surprise. In an obvious affectation, the figure told
her “Come with me, if you want to live.”
Peach begged a single boon, a kiss as a token from her savior. A smoldering look to match the
smoky skin as part of the shemagh was lifted, then grasping Peach around the waist, a hand cleaving
down her rear, drawing a gasp from her. She leaned in deep. As they kissed, the figure's lips parted
hers, a tongue exploring gently but insistently. Peach's breath left her at this unexpected intrusion. She
couldn't breathe, but found no need of it in the moment. As the figure pulled away, Peach chased those
lips with her own, pressing herself to the figure's thigh, her head spinning madly and each of them
yearning for far more. Peach's body was indeed as lush and yielding as imagined; more so in fact.
The figure stared into her eyes and down her ample bosom; a mouth-watering sight for a wandering
gaze. Peach's pulsing heart could be felt even through the layers of cloth.
This certainly holds promise... though such musings and pleasures must await more opportune
surrounds, mayhap; another lifetime, more like.
Out in the hall, Peach babbled on inanely, and introduced herself, asking the figure's name and
looking on expectantly. The figure glanced back briefly from the corner, covered Peach's mouth, and
whispered a rough “Stow it.”
Stowit...
They moved on, after a patrol passed their alcove.
Peach dithered outside. The figure mounted an awaiting horse, looking downward to Peach and
extending a hand as she climbed up behind. They rode off scant moments before a hail of arrows
pierced the area somewhat shy of where they had stood.
Arriving at a nondescript point in the woods, the figure stayed the horse. As it doffed the shemagh and
turned to her, Peach found herself speechless. Her benefactor was a woman. Her eyes widened,
though she recovered quickly, pulling her back into her embrace. Caressing her cheek and jawline,
Peach closed her eyes, kissing her gently. With her hand behind the rider's neck, a hint of hesitation in
her voice, Peach murmured that it would just take her some adjusting.
Feeling the sting of Peach's words, the rider was hardly surprised. Life was ever full of the slings
and arrows of outrageous fortune. She had several bottles of a heady mulled honey mead at hand once
they'd settled in, seeming intent on emptying them all, while Peach was beside herself trying to make
amends.
“I need rupees to support the resistance, and no amount of good intentions will see an army forward
an inch, girl.”
“You rescued me,” Peach sought to console her, “You are a true warrior, with a noble spirit.”
“At the end of the day, I'm a lecherous rebel with an empty purse, Princess,” she replied morosely,
“and it's hearts that need rescuing, not people. We all die.”
The way that she'd said 'Princess.' It sounded to Peach as if it were halfway between an impersonal
reference to social class and a tired sneer; biting, though without teeth to it.
As the rider explained that, her gaze had wandered down Peach's outfit, lingering longingly on some
of her curves. Peach watched her gaze grow distant, looking far away at some thought or memory.
Tiring of this, she told Peach to “...go to bed or something.”
“Nichevo strashnovo. Macht nichts,” she muttered to herself, lighting a cigar as Peach turned away.
Burning tea leaves, with something chocolate-like. Her voice floated quietly across the air, singing in a
melancholy near-dirge as her mind turned inward and unreeled memories scarred deep long ago.
“Bang-bang,
I hit the ground, bang
bang,
that awful sound, bang-bang,
my baby
shot...
me down...”
It was a sweet but lonely scent that accompanied Peach to sleep. Slow tears formed – not for
herself, but for the woman alone by the fire.
In the wee hours, a thoroughly drunken figure crawled to bed herself, awaking in the morning to Peach
with a tray of food. Butter-drenched cornbread, jam-smothered oat cakes with clotted cream, rashers of
bacon, sliced tomatoes, steamed mushrooms, crisp sausage links, and a richly marbled smoked salmon
awaited her; there was also a goblet of wine and a pot of honeyed tea. The tent held a light scent of
honeysuckle.
“Good morning, Stowit.”

Still groggy, she asked the time, and Peach said simply “Lunch? I didn't want to wake you, after last
night.”
“What are you prattling on about, girl?”
“Well, after lying together last night–”
She spluttered over her wine.
“We... what?” her attention now focused completely on Peach.
Peach nodded and went on to explain, “Uh-huh! You told me to go to bed, so I did. You also
mumbled something about warming your bed, which didn't make much sense to me since the night was
really warm, but my parents used to say that a lot too. Whenever they did, they'd be gone all night and
the next day in their bedchambers, and sometimes all weekend. I missed them, and felt bad for them. It
always happened at the same time as some servant girl fell sick with a stomach bug or twisted her ankle
or something and couldn't work the next day. They were always very pretty and sweet. But it was
always O.K., because then they would all get better at the same time as my parents did, and everyone
would show up in the morning, relaxed and happy and full of smiles and practically glowing, and it
would be like a holiday for a few days with presents and parties and everything, and the servant girls
who fell sick always stayed at the castle with my parents for a few nights afterward, to take care of one
another and stuff! So I thought that maybe you were sick, and so I got your bedroll all nice and warm
for you. You came to bed a long while later, and were snoring before you even hit the sack, and curled
up around me as if I were a Teddy bear! I lay with you all night. But don't worry; you didn't make any
of those moaning or screaming noises that my parents did whenever they felt that the night was cold,
not even once all night, so I don't think that you're sick. But you really shouldn't sleep while still
wearing your day clothes, since it's unhygienic. Which reminds me: I took them off for you, so that
they wouldn't dirty the bedroll unnecessarily. They're in that folded pile, in the corner by your pillow.
And did you know that you snore very lightly? It's kind of cute, like a really low purr.”
Stowit's eyes widened and glazed perceptibly at this small torrent of bouncing thoughts pouring over
her in a hypnotically sing-song voice.
When the words finally stopped coming, she just stared at the princess for a moment, not really
knowing what to make of her.
“I don't snore,” was all that she managed. Too hungry to give it further thought, she returned to the
food, intent on the spread.
Uncertain of what to do after handing her the tray, Peach continued kneeling there, her hands folded
politely across her lap.
“I didn't know what you might like, so I simply brought a little of everything.”
“This is good, since I eat everything” Stowit replied through a mouthful of food while gesturing
with her fork, “You made all of this yourself?”
Peach shook her head, her curls flouncing adorably.
“Oh, no. I'm useless with food. I mean, I can bake cakes really well, and flip bacon, or eggs, or
sausages, but that's it. There's this really nice Hedgehog outside, and he made it all.”
That stopped Stowit in her tracks.
“Short blue guy? Fancies himself funny?”
Peach nodded energetically, “Oh, you know him!”
“Sometimes I think I don't know anybody else but him,” she replied as she tore out of the tent.
“Where the fuck were you? 'cause it sure as hell wasn't my six!”
Stowit's outburst didn't cause Sonic to so much as bat an eye. Peach, however, was petrified, her
eyes wide with incomprehension and nervousness. She stood near Tails for reassurance, a two-tailed
Fox with a small Kaijin sitting on his shoulder.
It turned out that although Sonic hadn't found any chests of rupees and emeralds, he had managed to
raid the larder and steal a wagon-load of goods.
“The fuck was I supposed ta do – pull a Barry Allen?”
“What's done is done,” she replied, “Goddesses, I could kill for some coffee.”
He rummaged through one of the sacks as she continued.
“And this wagon? I see it not.”
He stared at her as if she'd grown a second head.
“C'mon, ya think I'm stupid, Z? I took a few doglegs and stream fords, not ta mention I left an easy
ta follow false trail, plus a hidden false trail, an' then I left the sumbitch hidden in a vale a few miles
away. The horses're there too, lightly tethered.”
After going over all of this, he suggested laconically “Ya might wanna put some'n on, by the way. 'sa
bit breezy out t'day.”
She returned to the tent to find her clothing, coming back out a minute later.
Sonic glanced over at Peach, who had by then busied herself with the coffee under Tails's
instruction.
“So. Camp follower?” he commented, “Not'cher style, man.”
“Laugh it up, fuzzball,” she replied, “she's no camp follower. She'll be on her way ere long, one way
or the other,” she ended cryptically.
“ 'at's only halfa what I said,” Sonic observed.
“She's not even awake yet!” she retorted.
Peach cocked her head at this last part.
“I've been up for hours!” she said offhand, giving their exchange little thought.
Stowit looked to Sonic as if having made her point.
“Touché,” he admitted, “but that still don't cover the heart o' the matter.”
A glint in her eye promised death were he to push things further.
“Thank you, Sonic, but our treasure is in another castle.”
Peach and the Kaijin, Ruru, chatted while the coffee brewed.
“The Ruru forms her physical body with magic. This process involves using magic to change the
concept of Ruru from potential form to reified form, based on her Platonic ideal,” the Kaijin explained,
bobbing around playfully at the end, “Kawaii musume!”
She took a moment to examine Ruru's “Platonic ideal.” It was an interesting ideal – a foot or so tall
and wearing a Jeannie outfit, all gauzy and leaving very little to the imagination.
Peach soon brought a stein of coffee to Stowit, her body language somewhat deferential and hopeful.
She took a sip, then lifted her eyebrows in appreciative surprise.
“That's some damned good coffee.”
Peach smiled hesitantly, “It just seemed that you'd probably like it strong, so I mixed the light stuff
for flavor with the dark roast for strength, only I wasn't really sure if I'd gotten it right. I-I'm really glad
that you like it, though!”
She smiled, “If it doesn't need chewing, it needs work. Good gut hunch, there. Have we any
hazelnut?”
Peach shrugged and looked over to Sonic, who shook his head.
“Bugger. Ah well, ainsi va la vie. 'sgood as is.”
“So,” Sonic asked, “is she a good witch, or a bad witch?”
“I'm not a witch at all!” Peach piped up.
Stowit simply ignored him.
Over the course of the afternoon, Peach referred to her rescuer twice more as “Stowit,” prompting her
to ask why she kept saying that. Peach explained, referring to her introduction during the rescue.
Sonic balled up in laughter, while she alternated between silent disbelief at Peach and glaring daggers
at Sonic.
Finally, she informed her “You may call me Sheik,” and stalked off, offering no further explanation.
=====
Peach rounded the crumbling stone wall as Sheik argued heatedly with Sonic.
“I have no wish for some useless trophy nor for an extra mouth looking to me as nothing more than
the next escape ticket from her latest dilemma – and doubly so an honor-bound promise made under
duress. When the itch gets bad enough, I'll simply rent a wench at the next tavern!” Sheik told him, and
walked right into Peach, who stumbled backward from the impact. Her arm shot forth instinctively to
catch Peach's fall, bringing a flush to Peach's face.
“I'm sure that Sonic would help, if you were to ask him for it – or if you just tell me where you're
itchy, I'll be happy to scratch it for you, and you won't have to pay me anything at all!” Peach beamed,
still leaning against Sheik's chest.
Sheik gaped at her, a muted flush of her own growing evident. She growled in frustration, glared at
Sonic again, and stormed off.
“I said something wrong again, didn't I?” Peach asked, wearing a forlorn look as she faced him, her
shoulders slumped in dejection.
“Nah, Princess,” he replied gently, “it was perfect. Ya said precisely what Z needed ta hear. It'll be
a'ight.” He put his hand on her shoulder as they returned to the camp.
“You mean that she doesn't hate me?” she asked, hope rising anew as her pulse raced, desperately
ready to grasp at any straw.
“See now, therein lies the story, y'know?”
Peach kept thinking about Sheik.

She's always poised, like some predator. Feral. A big cat. Silent. Lethal. You never hear her moving,
she's just suddenly there, or gone. She doesn't walk, she prowls and ripples.
She stifled a chuckle as she pictured dangling a bell from Sheik's neck.
Her muscles sinewy whipcord, her whole body lean and powerful, coiled to strike on a hair trigger.
As thin as she is, and even taking her height into account, she still looks as if she'd weigh no more than
one hundred pounds soaking wet, though in truth she certainly seems far closer to two hundred. She's a
mass of muscles, really, from the way that she didn't even budge yet sent me sailing just by bumping
into me. I'd swear that I could actually take the non-bounciest material around, and shape it into the
non-bounciest shape I can think of, and it would still bounce right off of her abs.
But she seems so... empty?
No. Hurt and immured, like a wounded cat puffing itself up and hissing at everyone from beneath a
porch while nursing a broken leg.
And her eyes are always just a little tight, as if held against some long-accustomed pain...
=====
“I've had a few wives, actually... but none of them were mine!” Sheik grinned and waggled her
eyebrow to Sonic, then winked at Peach as they redistributed the dry goods and rearranged Epona's
saddlebags and their own packs and satchels.
Peach pondered this.
“Is that something like the man coming from Saint Ives?”
Sheik squinted at her, uncertain of how to respond.
Could she truly be such a naif?
“Why do people do that so much? I walk in and they suddenly change the subject, and act as if it
never happened. Or I say something perfectly sensible and the looks on their faces just freeze. That or
they laugh a bunch, thinking that I'd made a joke.”
“It was just a little unexpected, Princess. Don't worry 'bout it,” Sonic covered for them all.
That night, while the scent of honeysuckle that followed Peach everywhere was certainly pleasant, it
also threatened to keep Sheik awake and drive her to distraction. This princess was as maddening as
she was alluring, but her scent would fuel Sheik's fantasy as she relieved this tension that had been
building up within her since last night.
With one arm up beneath her head, she reached down slowly and began the first gentle rub. A light
brush across the hood, then a scraping nail barely touching her labia, followed by a pinch rolling
upward, pulling...
Peach rolled over, burying her face in Sheik's armpit. Sheik froze.
Soon she was cooing gently from the depths of Sheik's pit.
She showed no sign of further motion, but that also left Sheik without many options. After some
time, she decided that Peach was well and truly asleep, and returned to where she had left off.
Peach moaned quietly, forcing her nose still deeper into Sheik's armpit, now with her mouth open,
her warm breath gently caressing the side of her breast, lips hovering just beyond her skin, and threw
her arm across Sheik's waist so that her hand landed on Sheik's, their fingers now entwined a hair's
breadth above her crotch, Peach's nail tips scraping her skin with a light rhythm. Sheik froze again.
She couldn't move, could barely breathe for the thought of waking Peach.
Peach quieted again. She had to get this girl some night clothes, or her own tent, or both.
Sheik sighed.
This. Is going to be a very. Long. Night.
=====
The second morning was just dawning. Sheik could smell it, feel it in every sense, but that's not what
had woken her. She was lying still, looking almost directly up. Peach's naked posterior hovered above
her face. While hardly an unwelcome sight, it wasn't what she'd expected.
Her musk is intoxicating. Sheik's thoughts wandered lasciviously. This is an ass I could just take a
bite out of – or spank 'til it glows. Floating there, tantalizing... she's either a coy temptress indeed, or
the most unaware ingénue I've ever encountered.
Peach shifted position as she finished arranging her dress.
“I didn't mean to wake you,” she apologized, realizing that Sheik was no longer asleep.
“It's alright,” Sheik replied, her voice thick, “go about your morning business. I'll be out in a few
minutes. I just need to take care of something.” At least, that's all that she hoped she'd need, though
there wasn't much doubt after last night. I can well imagine this girl's luscious lips wrapped 'round my
nethers...
Peach left quietly.
“Yo, Z. Time,” Sonic pushed his head in within a minute.
Sheik hurled a pillow and told him “I'll be out in two minutes – just two damned minutes!”
“Drop yer cock 'n' grab yer socks. We got company,” he replied dryly, and left again.
Five seconds later she was out of the tent, still buckling her baldric.
In the predawn mist, it was difficult to make out detail, but it was clear enough that a small force
was approaching from the north.
“Dodongos,” Sheik said, seeing the lizard-like figures riding atop more-reptilian beasts, their dark
armor and variety of weapons making clear their intention.
Scattered among them were fat, porcine-looking reptilian quadrupeds, bony celadon-skinned with
splashes of rust-toned leafy patterns. Helmasaurs, trained for the hunt, the foremost two-thirds of their
bodies sporting thick organic-steel shells with spikes and horns sticking out at random angles and
vicious snapping beaks on necks that could extend a surprising distance in a lightning-like strike as
they lashed out at the chosen target, they could dispense a powerful mule kick to the unwary.
Scanning deeper, she continued “and that's not all.”
“Goombas!” Peach exclaimed, spotting the fanged mushroom-creatures almost simultaneously,
dismissing the turtle-like hatchet-wielding Koopa underlings entirely.
“Aye, and I know full well what they are,” Sheik replied coldly, “The question is how they come to
be here. Now,” looking pointedly at Peach.
Peach opened her mouth to protest, but Sheik cut her off, saying “We've no time. We must away
immediately.”
At this point, Tails had already gathered the collapsed tent and was hurrying to Epona with it.
“Enough! Take it or leave it, but I'll not tarry here with the trail so hot and these curs nearly on us,”
at which Tails took to the air, his tails spinning and flapping about rapidly, dangling his cargo beneath.
Peach was intrigued by this, having had no idea that he could fly.
“Coming, Princess?” Sheik asked, as she leapt to her mount.
The saddle chafed. Damn it, this is part of why I always stay dressed at night. Balls, this sucks!
“Sheik? I really have to go...”
“We're going as fast as we safely can,” Sheik told her over her shoulder.
“No,” Peach replied, squirming, “I mean that I have to go... I – I need to use the bushes.”
Sheik laughed. “Well, you have two options, honey: go now or hold it 'til we get someplace safe.
Three, if yer of a mind tae tuck and roll, but this horse isn't stopping until I'm satisfied that we've lost
our pursuit for the time being.”
Peach fell silent for a few minutes, then squirmed once more.
“Sheik? I mean it, I really need to pee!”
“I'm serious, too. I don't see that the situation's changed any, do you?” Sheik said, unrelenting.
Moments later, Sheik felt a warm trickle down the saddle. It surged, and as they cantered, she could
feel the slap of the leather grow wet beneath her. Peach clasped her waist more firmly, as her dress
soaked through and began to cling to Sheik's legs.
The hours went by slowly as they picked their way through what seemed to be the same patch of
woods. Sheik refused to take the time to let Peach wash herself or her dress, and so Peach sat
miserable, sure that she had brought about their current situation and that she was now causing Sheik
nothing but disgust.
At one point, they reached a stream that they had taken earlier, this time much more slowly, and
Epona's gait changed to a more downtrodden feel. The tracks that she left behind were as if from an
entirely different horse.
Hours passed before they came to a rest. Peach's dress was now only mildly damp, barely enough to
be aware of, but the knowledge of what it meant bore down on her as if a millstone were hung from her
neck.
They ate quietly. There were some provisions in Epona's saddlebags, but Sheik had insisted on
trapping dinner instead. The area was rife with rabbits1 and pheasants2, so it had taken little time at all
to snare several of each along a few game trails, enough for the next day or two certainly. There had
been a low fire in a stone-lined rocket stove 3, barely enough to cook with – Sheik had mixed some fat
wood from the stumps of pine branches with some dry needles, mumbling about the lack of birch bark
or clothing lint. Snatches of rosemary hung in the air, in part from Sheik having seasoned their dinner
with it, but in the main from the large bush to the side of their camp. Subtle undertones of thyme and
mint laced through it as well, though much less so. The pine nuts with the meat had been an interesting
and novel experience for Peach, and the handfuls of elderberries made it all almost a homey-feeling
meal.
There was still some tea left, and Peach was making the most of its warmth, letting its soothing
effects wash through her. Sheik had collected mostly white cedar needles, tossing in some white spruce
and fir needles and a few juniper berries for this4.
The evening had turned cool, and even the few remaining embers had been small respite but
welcomed warmth. Turning to scan the hillside, Sheik caught the shiver running down Peach's body,
the girl just sitting there, accepting her situation passively. Against her better judgment, she added
some more wood to the dying fire, coaxing life back into it as Peach's body language shifted to that of
happy anticipation.
They sat deep within a fir tree, its branches and a thicket of hemlock shielding them from what little
of the light breeze swirled past the rosemary, providing some envelope against the escape of their body
heat, helped further by the crook of roots that lay astride a slight depression of the soil. The scent of
cedar and damp humus lay heavy in the mist that was settling in. There was a must to it that hinted at
snow, though there was little chance of that.
Peach was apologizing to Sheik for the fifth interminable time.
1 Rabbit snares: there are several videos on snares that are well worth watching, but here's one that covers a few different ways
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fOZK_dlZO4E&list=PLzdQ9vN7FdPZjyGGlpnZzCvvsOH0-tlgA&t=6s&index=22
2 Bird trapping: animal snares work well laid across the ground to catch a bird's foot, but there's a simple pit trap that's also worth
knowing https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wcdv82aAQq8&list=PLzdQ9vN7FdPZjyGGlpnZzCvvsOH0-tlgA&t=1s&index=29
3 Rocket stove: a simple way to burn fuel highly efficiently and with little chance of being seen. Two small pits are dug, with a hole
connecting them; one is filled with vertical sticks meeting ground level, the other provides airflow.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ffldYo4EVCg&index=8&list=PLzdQ9vN7FdPZjyGGlpnZzCvvsOH0-tlgA&t=1s
4 Tea: for an overview of the respective needle-teas, please see
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RdTcmexTBH0&list=PLzdQ9vN7FdPZjyGGlpnZzCvvsOH0-tlgA&index=13
“Enough,” Sheik told her, “You seek to atone? Move forward a bit.”
After Peach had done so, Sheik stood up.
“Sit. Stay,” was all that she said.
Though Peach had no idea of what to expect, she proceeded to wait as instructed.
She began to turn her head to follow Sheik, but found herself turned forward, guided firmly by
Sheik's hand, “Eyes front.”
Sheik stood silent behind her for a time. Peach began to wonder if Sheik were even still there. Has
she abandoned me?
As she reached this thought, she was startled by a sudden wetness on her neck. Her mouth fell open
as she realized what Sheik must be doing. She was mortified, but said nothing.
Her shoulders were drenched, and it ran down her chest and back before letting off. After a moment
of quiet, Sheik sat down behind her, with her legs to either side of Peach, wrapping her arms around
Peach's waist.
“Shh,” she whispered into Peach's ear.
Sheik tensed a little, and Peach's eyes grew wide as she felt a further warm wetness soak into the
seat of her dress, as well. Sheik leaned back against the mossy lump at the base of the tree, pulling
Peach back with her.
Saying nothing, they sat there, watching the twilight fall and the gloaming settle in, stirring only
occasionally to tend the fire. The sky held some thin clouding that boded well for both some heat
retention and minimal chance of rain.
Peach slept, soon enough. Sheik continued to hold her, watching against intrusion, thinking.
=====
“You may wash when I tell you that you may, and you will not ask a second time.”
Peach understood this, and didn't balk, but didn't understand why Sheik was doing this.
They had spent the night comfortably enough, but with the breaking day, their combined smell was
becoming potent.
There's still another day or two of riding ahead of us before we reach the old mine that Sheik told
me of. Apparently there's a safe house hidden within it. Am I to remain filthy for all of that time? Will I
be permitted to wash even then? She didn't quite know what to feel about this. It's degrading, but
almost freeing, as if she had marked her territory, claiming me as her own.
In the end, she cast aside this line of thought as irrelevant. I swore that I would be true to whomever
might save me, and I intend to uphold that oath. I will follow Sheik wherever she goes in life. I will
support her and be true to her, come what may. I will die at her side, if it comes to that.
I just wish that I understood her better, and hope that maybe there will eventually be some measure
of love between us.
=====
Dismounting, Sheik reached up to help Peach down. Mindful of her limitations, and seeing her
standing there doing a nearly imperceptible dance, she was reminded of Peach's needs.
“You may go now,” she nodded to Peach.
Peach stilled, a look of relief washing over her. A moment later, a puddle formed beneath her.
Sheik pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed.
“Perhaps I should have worded that more clearly. I meant that you may now go find a bush.”
Peach's entire demeanor sagged with relief. “I knew that. Of course,” she said as she walked stiffly
to the nearest foliage.
Sheik closed her eyes and wrinkled her forehead to the sky.
“Bury it when you're finished!” she called out to Peach's retreating figure, unwilling to bet her life
on the princess's camping experience. Still though. Goddesses, there's no denying the allure of that
ass, the natural, unaffected sway of her hips... she's a lightweight, can't weigh more than a hundred
fifty, maybe two hundred, but damn if Nayru didn't bless her bounty twice over...
“You liked it,” Sheik observed upon her return from the bushes. It wasn't a question.
Peach's eyes were down. She looked up and replied in a small voice “Yes.”
“Why?”
“It felt kind of as if you were telling the world that I belong to you.”
Zelda considered this.
“I might have use of you yet. If you're good.”
There was a hint of a interest in Sheik's eye, a tiny uplifting in the corner of her mouth.
=====
They stopped at a sulfur spring early the next morning. The spring bed was beautiful, rich with swirls
of color – seafoam and russet, titanium yellow and cornflower blue – while the spring itself was
surrounded with ferns and crocuses, bird of paradise flowers and rose of Sharon, and overlooked by a
fair number of banyan.
Sheik refused to refill the canteens there, but they bathed, and Peach washed her dress. Soapbark
trees were always plentiful in this region.
Late that afternoon, they came to a defile, off at an angle to the game trail. Peach couldn't see it until
they had already entered it. Now she could see how it wended its way between acacias and into a
glade.
Coming to a small waterfall, Sheik dismounted, but motioned Peach to remain. She approached the
waterfall, entered behind a thin curtain of water, and disappeared. Peach could hear Sheik singing a
soft melody, but couldn't make it out well. It was calm and soothing, like a wordless lullaby, telling a
story of its own through pure melody.
She waited, but as the time passed and Sheik still hadn't returned, she grew nervous.
After what must have been only a few minutes, Sheik stepped back out through the curtain of water,
and motioned for Peach to follow her in.
They entered a small, dry cave. Light streamed in through the water, and reflected from the surface
of the cache at the base of the fall. Multicolored fish darted between the grasses and overhanging stone
shelves. It was beautiful, but Sheik pressed on, giving it no heed.
Peach paused to admire it all, her eyes flicking to and fro with the fish.
“Your body language is that of a cat,” Sheik remarked in amusement.
Peach started, her eyes wide, as if found out.
“I spent a lot of time with my cats, growing up,” she explained.
“Enough that you acquired more their mannerisms than Humans'?”
She remained silent, growing ever so slightly smaller.
“That was meant to be a joke, not a stumper,” Sheik said, her voice lower and more gentle this time,
“Did you have no socializing?”
“I... spent some summers away at my cousin's palace, over in Piraputo,” Peach replied, her spirit
rallying some.
Sheik's manner grew pensive.
When they reached the end of the cave, she pressed part of the rock face, and a crevice opened,
broad enough to let them pass unhindered.
Beyond this lay a much larger chamber than the foyer.
“Ya fed the stray,” Sonic observed after a single glance.
“Stray? I want to see!” Peach cried out happily from behind Sheik.
“He's talking about you, dear,” Sheik told her over her shoulder.
Peach looked crestfallen, but not hurt.
“Well, she had to, didn't she? It was either that, or watch me go hungry for three days.”
“An' sleep in a cold bed!” he retorted.
“And sleep in a cold bed,” she repeated in earnest, nodding emphatically, her eyes wide.
“Can it, pincushion,” Sheik leveled at him.
She and Sonic locked gazes, but neither of them clarified his allusion.
“So... does that mean that I may continue warming your bed, Sheik?” Peach persisted.
“Marvelous! Sure, why not?” Sheik replied facetiously, throwing her hands into the air.
Having settled in with what they'd brought, and brushing down Epona, they told Peach their reason for
being here.
They were at a Fairy Fountain. She had heard of these, but knew precious little about them. They
were said to be the homes of Fairies, and sometimes containing one of great power, but she hadn't
known of any existing beyond Hyrule itself.
Making their way through the tunnel, she could hear only the odd echoing drip of water leaching its
way from above. Rounding a bend, she found herself within an expanse easily forty feet across, a pool
occupying most of the floor space, with light filtering down from luminescent stones along the wall.
The Fairies5 were to judge whether she were fit to accompany them. This made her rather nervous –
she knew her own heart, but what if they made a mistake?
Around her, golden sparks appeared in the air and rose from the water as she stepped into the
shallow pool, swirling slowly, eddying in response to currents that only they could feel. The air stilled,
and the sparks scattered from her. Peach's nerves were galvanized, a coppery fear on her tongue.
The cave darkened, then glowed with a sourceless blue tinge.
Sheik dropped to one knee instantly, while the others bowed their heads – except for Peach, who had
no conception of what was happening, other than that she was both terrified and suffused with a feeling
of love and safety.
“Looks like yer gonna be stickin' around a while,” Sonic said as they made their way back to the
main chamber.
Peach rubbed her arms nervously.
Looking back calculatingly, Sheik said “We'll need to get you some inconspicuous clothing.”
Peach's eyebrows knitted as she looked Sheik over.
“Nude is inconspicuous?”
Sonic and Ruru laughed as Sheik said nothing.
Digging through their stores, Sheik settled on a long sleeved blue halter over a white quilted cotton
tabard and charcoal pants for herself, along with fingerless gloves and brown walking boots, and
5 Fairies: Their language is unusual, consisting entirely of the letter L and syllables of L-plus-a-vowel. See Appendix A for details.
handed Peach something that Robin Hood might have designed for Little Red – a plum feathered cap,
striking red cape, rich forest green skintight shirt beneath a simple gray tunic, dun leggings, and soft
black riding boots. Both outfits were oiled against rain.
Peach was excited and greatly pleased by this; Sheik, however, found that Peach's tunic rode her
hips in ever so distracting a manner – and the polished floor did nothing to help with its reflection
beckoning her eyes thither. As she slipped stilettos into her boots' concealed recesses, her eyes kept
sliding toward Peach.
Sonic was whistling a tune as they returned, a cheerful tune, and one that he seemed to take
inordinate pleasure in. By the self-satisfied smirk on his face between occasional glances at Zelda, it
seemed a good thing that she didn't recognize the piece.
“So ahh... Nayru, huh?” he asked, “She show up often, does she Z?”
“No, and you know that damned well, now leave it!” Sheik retorted testily. She was still shaken
from the experience. She'd suspected the princess of being a mole, and had allowed for the possibility
that she could be legitimate, but never once had it crossed her mind that she might actually have the
blessings of Nayru upon her.
“Is it just me, or does she make ya think of a kitten wit' bags tied aroun' her feet?” Sonic hazarded.
Her face held a thoughtful look at this, but she didn't have a chance to answer.
“I'm sorry to bug you guys, but what would have happened if she hadn't shown up? Or if the Fairies
hadn't liked me?” Peach asked them timidly.
They glanced grimly at each other, then at Peach.
“Yeah. It wouldn'a been good, Princess,” Sonic said softly, then clapped his hands together and
changed the subject, “So. Who's hungry? Blue, Hedgehog, needs, food, badly.”
“I need to get lit, anyway,” Sheik replied, and disappeared into the supply chamber.
=====
Sonic had prepared a stew of diced venison jerky from their supplies, a side of chopped local plants
and fish, and a bit of pasta from the cave's stores. Without much to work with, he opted to toss a few
handfuls of beans and some grated cheese into the stew, to make it more robust. The balance was
pleasantly piquant and just a little earthy.
As they ate, Peach recounted her tale of abduction and seclusion. There had been a bas relief in her
tower room, one of a Hylian-seeming woman – beautiful, but moreover reassuring. Sometimes it
looked molded, sometimes natural, she could never quite tell which. It had been set within a shallow
nook, opposite the transom. The surrounding stone had had a slightly bluish quality to it, with a
constant trickle of water to either side. The lighting was always just enough to see it, and it had given
off a slight phosphorescent glow at night, comforting her. She had begun talking to it, after the
loneliness had become unbearable; she'd felt better for it, even though they hadn't been real
conversations.
“Son of a bitch!” Sheik interrupted, belatedly realizing why it sounded so familiar, “You're saying
that there was an altar to Nayru in that castle? That you prayed to her for your escape?”
Peach looked around, bewildered, and shrugged uncertainly.
That night, as she lay awake wondering about her future, dreaming of possibilities and fearing that
she might have let Sheik down, Peach whispered a prayer to Nayru, not knowing if she would listen to
one who revered the Stars, asking that she help Sheik find the peace that seemed to elude her.
=====
The smoke was rising in the north late the next morning, casting a pall across the horizon.
“Thick, dark, fast-risin'. Looks like the right spot. Waddya think?” Sonic asked Sheik.
She didn't bother responding, other than to turn away.
“I thought that you said that the old mine was another day's ride ahead of here,” Peach said,
perplexed.
“Oh, aye. That. I lied,” Sheik told her. “Why do you think I kept setting you down and going back
along our path on the first day? I had to know if you were a spy, so I fed you some information to see if
you'd run off to tell them. You didn't, but our trail still led in that direction.”
She looked a little wounded at hearing that she'd been lied to, but brushed it aside, “But I thought
that you said just now that the mining town was on the bad guy's side.”
“It was. Now they're gone. Warbotdorf's forces could no longer trust just which side the town was
truly on.”
“You sentenced them to death, you mean,” Peach's tone wasn't accusatory, but she was firm in her
meaning.
“They sentenced themselves. I chose only when and how they died,” Sheik told her, “Now we wait
here, lie low for a few days.”
Sheik listened to Peach's breathing grow quiet. The tent was unnecessary within the cave, and even the
bedroll remained unused. They had some furs laid out from the cave's stores, with dry reeds layered
beneath them.
At this point, Sheik was exhausted from the day's events and the ensuing discussions. Still, I have
to admit that it's kind of nice that she has no bedroll of her own just yet; well... maybe the extra tent
can wait a little longer...
She was out as soon as she hit the pillow.
Peach drifted off more slowly, and was nearly gone when Sheik's arm fell across her chest, her hand
enveloping Peach's breast. Peach thought that it was intentional, and braced herself for whatever Sheik
might wish of her, but nothing further came.
As she drifted off again, Sheik's leg suddenly wedged itself deep between Peach's thighs, her eyes
shooting open, her lower cheeks now held firmly and far apart by Sheik's upper thigh. Peach's
breathing quickened, sure that this was leading to something.
Oh my Stars...
Sheik moaned quietly in her sleep, her hand massaging Peach's breast gently, her fingers squeezing
her nipple ever so slightly. She had no hope of palming the entire breast, but seemed intent on trying,
come Hell or high water. Peach felt warmth rush through her, and a strange feeling almost like being
hungry and antsy at the same time, but that was all that Sheik did. Soon, both were asleep.
=====
Sonic found Peach working her way through a yoga routine after breakfast the next morning. He didn't
pay it much attention at first, but soon formed an idea as she flowed effortlessly through several rather
impressive and distracting positions.
“You do this shit all the time, huh?”
“Mm-hmm!” she nodded, adjusting herself from a formidable face pose through bound side crow
and praying mantis, ending in a one-arm compass.
Watching her movement, he could feel her striking capability. She was supple, graceful, and sure of
herself.
I wonder...
Sheik stood there, waiting to see just what all of the mystery was about.
“Knock her fuckin' socks off, kid.”
Peach bent forward easily, bringing each leg behind her neck, then rested her chin on her perineum.
Sheik stood rigid, unable to look away as Peach stretched out her tongue to the tip of her nose.
“Ang ah hang hih' ngai ho hikhk inguh ngai ngoukh, ang ho ngai 'ekh aw hee 'ingukh!”
“She says she can also fit 'er whole fist in 'er mouth 'n' hold her breath fer three minutes.”
Sheik ground her jaw as her eye began to tic.
Her nostrils flared and her eyes closed, she swallowed and looked at Sonic.
“Asshole.”
With that, she walked away.
“Whoa, hey, ohh, huh? Wait a sec, Z – y'ain't seen what she can do wit' a cherry stem!”
Sheik merely waved her middle finger over her shoulder, replying “Not listening...” in a sing-song
voice.
Sheik slapped Sonic over back of head as she returned for lunch, still pissed about the yoga
demonstration.
“Da fuck crawled up your ass?”
“Nothing, thank you very much,” she replied sweetly.
“There's y'prob'm, then. No wonder yer so cranky. Ya gotta get laid.”
“Fuck you.”
“Not my job description, Z” he tisked, “– but'cher in luck! I just so happen ta know someone who's
been sniffin' aroun' that position.”
Peach, watching this exchange, interjected “You're always so mean to each other, but you don't
really mean it. Your words cover over what you won't say. You're family. You love one another.”
They looked at each other uncomfortably as she said this, neither of them voicing agreement, but
nor did either actually show disagreement.
After several minutes of quiet, Peach sought once more to smoothe things over, this time with
simple conversation.
“So... do you shave like a swimmer, or was there an accident?”
Sheik looked to her, confused.
“You seem to be hairless beyond your scalp and eyebrows.”
Sonic missed Sheik's look of disbelief as he held his fist to his face to hold in the laughter.
“Hylians don't grow hair in nearly as many places as do Humans,” she replied abruptly, inexplicably
uncomfortable with Peach's curiosity.

The conversation lapsed into silence again, before moving on to more mundane matters. It wasn't
long before it devolved to their more typical lobbies of friendly insults.
“Kiss my ass,” Sheik exclaimed.
“Bend over 'n' crack a smile!” Sonic replied.
“Fuck you!”
“You wish. I ain't touchin' that wit' Warbotdorf's dick, Tails pushin', an' Ruru takin' the blame!”
“Not in your wettest, wildest dreams, furball.”
“Psht! You couldn't handle me fer fi' minutes.”
“No shit. Your fleas would suck me dry long before that.”
“You suggestin' they're migratory, like coconuts?”
“Oh, don't start that shit again!”
“Are they always like this?” Peach asked Tails.
Tails looked at them for a moment, “Like what?” he asked.
=====
“Oh my Stars, this is delicious! The flavor is complex, but comes together so well. What is it?” Peach
asked.
They had left the Fairy Fountain several days prior and had been on the road since then. They now
sat encamped within a shallow gash of rock in case of rain, opening onto a small meadow. The
surrounding forest was thick enough that no wind made its way toward them, and what little made its
way down the hillside continued onward to the gorge a few score feet farther along.
Sheik exchanged glances with Sonic, then watched Peach as he replied.
“Oh, ahh, well, y'know, couple o' handfuls o' watercress, some borage leaves 'n' chopped lemongrass
bulbs, a bit o' acorn flour ta thicken it. A few other things. Secret's just a tiny bit o' chicory root ta give
it body,” he told her evasively.
“But what other things? Come on, I really want to learn! I mean, it's kind of like soft ham, but then
there are bits of soft crunchiness with a nutty flavor to them.”
Sonic set down his bowl and looked at her.
“Waddya suppose most people eat, Princess?”
“Food. I don't know. Birds, fish, game animals... bread and butter?” Peach floundered.
“Yeah, a'ight, true enough – far as it goes. What about the average schmo, the commoners?” he
pressed.
“I don't know,” she admitted.
“I'll help y'out a bit,” he relented, nodding, “in cities, 'sa lot like what'cha expect at'cher own table,
just less rich 'n' diverse. Fewer foreign goods, 'n' spices're a real bitch, but herbs're common enough.
Fresh vegetables, not so much, though more'n you're used to. Fruit's hard ta come by. Now, haddya
think a typical townsman makes out?”
Peach bit her lip, “Sort of like the city dweller, only less so?” she hazarded.
“Good, yeah. Precisely,” Sonic replied, “An' the peasant, if they ain't hung fer poachin'?”
She was out of her depth, and it was obvious.
“Tell ya what. Wouldja believe me if I toldja it's venison?
“Nah? How 'bout 'coon, maybe?
“Still think I'm pullin' yer leg, huh? Well, I woulda gone wit' that or squirrel – maybe 'possum – but
couldn't get any. Weirdest thing, but they seem to've all turned tail or some'n. A'ight. 's worm, with
some grubs fer variety. Ya gotta drown the worms first, ta make 'em puke out all the dirt 'n' shit,
literally, then ya run 'em through a rinse, an' y'good ta go fer whatever yer cookin'.6”
Sonic fell silent and waited.
“And the big chewy medallions that looked like thick slices of sandwich meat?”
“Snail.7”
“Big snail,” Peach observed.
“Bite'cher head off, man,” he agreed with a nod.
She looked at her bowl. Picking up her spoon, she scraped together the last bit of soup from her
bowl, scrutinizing it.
Putting it into her mouth, she chewed thoughtfully.
“Well,” she said slowly, “I can positively say that this is the best – damned – worm soup that I have
ever had. May I please have a second bowl, if there's enough?”
Sonic stared at her in shock, then laughed loudly and punched her shoulder.
“Holy shit, Z, ya better take care o' this one. She's a fuckin' keeper!”
Sheik just sat there, appraising.
O ~~~ O
6 Worm soup: Although I haven't had the need to try this for myself, I've seen reference to worms as a medieval dietary staple among
peasants, have read of it being one in many places today (along with grubs and insects, typically roasted or fried but surprisingly
sometimes candied [presumably other methods of preparation exist]), and recall them being specifically covered as a food source in
USAF survival-CBTs (again along with the grubs and insects) which included the drowning-and-rinsing cycle specifically. One idea
that I've seen mentioned repeatedly is to feed them cornmeal (or other food) for a day or two prior to consumption, in order to help
purge them of environmental toxins (though I presume that this won't rid them of any parasites, bacteria, etc.) and change their flavor
somewhat.
Some Googling indicates that aside from being high in protein (as one might expect), they're also higher in essential amino acids
than meat or fish meal and a good source of calcium (and several other metals).
However accurate many of the articles might or might not be, different people will trust or distrust different sources. You might
want to research this for yourself. Some places to start might be NPR or ScienceDirect.
https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC1691235/pdf/12614573.pdf
https://articles.extension.org/pages/69709/including-earthworms-in-organic-poultry-diets
http://ijpsr.com/bft-article/nutrient-content-of-native-earthworm-eutyphoeus-gammiei-beddard-of-tripura-india/?view=fulltext
https://cdn.intechopen.com/pdfs/56561.pdf
If you're already gōnghé, then you might like a few recipes:
http://www.eattheweeds.com/cooking-with-earthworms-2/
https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCLRDaR2ywG1APiwUzeTwrJw
CAUTION: EARTHWORMS ARE NOT THE SAME AS PARASITIC ROUNDWORMS.
7 Snail: flail snail, specifically. Large creatures with some magical resistance.
Chapter 2: The Perils of Peach

“Lizard bacon, anyone?” Peach sought to defuse the situation.

“ 'Rodent Of Unusual Size?' Now wuzzat really called for?” Sonic demanded, a caustic edge to his
rising voice.
“She deserves to know,” was all that Sheik said.
“Now ain't the time.”
“And when will be, then? When the Grand High Muck-a-muck himself swoops down with all his
forces and...” she trailed off, waving her hand in a circle.
Sonic didn't respond.
He didn't have to.
He knew that Sheik was right.
“Wait now, Sheik. You're saying that your real name is actually Zelda? Just like the imperial princess?”
Sheik looked calmly at Peach.
“No,” she said, “I'm telling you that I am Zelda the imperial princess, Princess.”
“She died eight years ago. That's why they made Warbotdorf regent for the interregnum. I watched
the funeral procession, the change of command, the inauguration. It was simulstreamed all over the
intervision for weeks. I remember thinking at the time that it was so sad and beautiful at the same time.
You're saying that it was all a huge conspiracy? A government cover up? Lies? I'm blonde, not stupid.
And you don't need to impress me.”
Zelda arched her brow. “You disbelieve me. Ask me what only the Imperial Princess might have
knowledge of.”
The princess paused.
“If you truly are whom you claim to be, then tyë julderukavand avhiuk?”
“Yeuk, but anyone can learn Uruk-lambo, especially royals, nobles, and traders,” replied Zelda, “and
that should have been 'lyë', not 'tyë.' Try again – just not Wolfen 1. I could never get the hang of that; it's
all howls and gargles to me. Were I to ask after a bathroom, I'd likely instead succeed only in informing
some poor confused slob that the bananas were in the tar pit.”
Peach's attempts at twenty questions failed to find fault in Zelda's claim, but also failed to establish
1 Wolfen: Almost the Wolfen of Palladium FRPG, with some traits of Warhammer Beastmen. Equally likely to be born anthropoid or
centauroid (like D&D's Wemic, though I'm thinking of a short story from an issue of Analog magazine [c. 1985/1986] & a little of Poul
Anderson's “Fire Time”). The anthropoids typically ride dire wargs. Their social structures vary quite a bit, paralleling those of the
native North Americans. Their cooking is more Asian. Their party-wars (detailed later) are modeled after the bluster of drunken
teenagers, plus some of the friendly (and not-so-friendly) rivalry exhibited in the Amerind tier of “Maker of Universes” and in a similar
social group in “The Lavalite World” (both being strongly Sword and Planet genre, to me).
The Wolfen language focuses on throat-sung vowels (often preceded by nasal phonemes) with some faucalized/hollow/yawny vowels
and a few strident overtone vowels.
Cooking is a highly respected profession throughout the Wolfen Nations.
any validity to it.

The conversation wound down as they approached a small town.
“It's a balance of power, Princess. At low levels, it's all about whom people fear the most, at high
levels... how much it will cost. And everybody always has a lean and hungry look.”
Zelda found herself lecturing on political machinations in light of the news that they'd seen posted
upon their foray back into civilization.
A crier passed by wearing a clapboard. It showed a standard P.R. shot of Peach, with some
disturbing imagery. The crier yammered something about rebel forces and Stockholm Syndrome as he
sold his papers.
“Babe in the woods,” Sonic remarked to Zelda.
He turned to Peach with a gleam in his eye.
“Ya know, you remind me of a babe,” he began.
“Oh, for fuck's sake, not that again!” Zelda interrupted, his cackling laughter providing counterpoint
as he dodged her blow.
She turned to explain to Peach.
“ 'Heinous,' the headlines report. Sonic's trying to say that the paper is full of artist's renditions, the
stories are carefully constructed fabrications, and the people are all paid tragedy actors.”
=====
They had acquired cold weather gear while in town, and none too soon as a bitter wind blew in from
the northwest, settling in with a foreboding cloud bank. They were now encamped deep within an
aspen grove for the time being, having taken advantage of an opportunity to hunt.
As Sonic gutted the young boar2, he watched Peach watching him intently.
He smiled to himself. She's an acute one, always payin' attention.
“Couldja gimme a hand gettin' this spit up onta the forks?” he asked her.
Peach snapped back to the present, hustling over to help him with dinner.
“Y'know what I wouldn't give fer some seasonin' rub 'n' banana leaves right now?” he asked.
Peach looked at him expectantly.
“A rub is some'n ya put on meat ta give it a certain flavor, an' the leaves ya' wrap aroun' the pig –
they don't have ta be banana though, could be taro or ti, but they gotta be soakin' wet, whatever ya use
– an' throw it in a bed o' hot stones, 'n' cover it with some more hot stones ta act like an oven, with a
few more shoved in its gut. 'course, then I'd wanna throw in some clams, too, an' seaweed o' course,
maybe some oysters 'n' mussels. Crab, fer shit sure. Get some pineapple slices inta the mix, a little
coconut oil... I wonder if we couldn't fake it with some really sweet lemon or some'n; quince maybe...
“Here, put this water pan under the pig, ta catch the juices. Be nice if we had some kinda foil or
some'n – but that's cool, we'll just baste it every so often, trap the flavor.”
He dug through his satchel and brought out a bag of wild rice, three smaller bags of chestnuts,
walnuts, and dried berries, and a few dehydrated sweet potatoes.
“How did you learn all of this?” she asked.
Sonic looked at her, pondering how best to answer.
“Well, some of it ya learn from others, or trial 'n' error, some of it just comes from inside. Ya get a
feelin' fer what'cha wanna do, ya taste in yer mind what it'll be like if ya mix things a certain way an'
even'chly it just comes together on its own – not that it always works out o' course... fer the record,
2 Boar: hunting boar might be dangerous, but only if you fight fair; trapping is safer
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=70SsGynRZd4&list=PLzdQ9vN7FdPZjyGGlpnZzCvvsOH0-tlgA&t=1s&index=25
don't bother mixin' butter pecan ice cream with Balsamic vinegar.”
Peach thought about this.
“Could I learn how to do all of that?”
“Somehow I had a feelin' you were gonna ask me that. Yeah sure, kid. C'mere, siddown. Park it, 'n'
we'll talk while this thing cooks.”
As Sonic talked with her about food, they chopped some apples that he had collected, jalapeños and
tarragon from their recently topped-off supplies, and mushrooms from nearby the boar's nest. “It'd be
a'ight with habanero or serrano o' course, ta give it a li'l kick, though not so much with ancho maybe;
sorta the wrong smokiness. Ooh, or cayenne, though we'd need mesquite 'n' hickory fer the fire, then;
just the right smoky flavor. Now, if I had some serranos, I'd wanna pair 'em wit' beef instead, an'
potatoes 'n' carrots, some celery. With habaneros, I'd prefer ta go wit' chicken 'n' mango, maybe a li'l
cilantro, an' just a dash o' cinnamon.”
Sonic placed a tin can on its side in the pan of water and juices.
“What's that?” she asked as he settled back down.
“Some maple sap 'n' a bit o' honey. When we camped yesterday ta start this hunt, I tapped a bunch o'
trees. It's too cold to get shit out'f 'em, but ya' hit enough of 'em an' ya' get a little some'n ta work with. I
lucked out 'n' ran into a hive while I was tappin'. What this baby really needs is some lime juice, but we
ain't exactly in the right area fer that. Meh, 's O.K.. We got some trout that'll go nice with it. Not as
good as snapper, but'cha make do wit' what'cha got. Shit of it is, wit' this trout, we could really use
some lemon-pepper 'n' a bit o' cream – just a little though; ya gotta handle fish all delicate-like, an' a
little seasonin' goes a long way – oh well.”
They began to chop leeks, mustard greens, and cattail tubers and leaves.
“When we're done with all this, I'll show ya how ta smoke meat 'n' fish, an' make pemmican. We're
gonna need plenty o' both in this weather; maybe throw together some more hardtack too, 'long as we
got the chance. We'll get some vinegar, sugar, 'n' lime later, an' I'll show ya how ta preserve food a
whole bunch o' different ways – the gravlax'll prob'ly surprise ya.
“Now one thing ta keep in mind is it's absolutely freakin' vital ta pick the right type o' firewood 'n'
how wet or dry it is, whatever yer doin'. Wit' the oils 'n' resins, the aromatics in the smoke, what
temperature it burns at, an' how ashy it gets 'n' everything, 'snot just as important as the ingredients, it
is one o' the ingredients...”
She eventually surprised him with a tip of her own for crispy crusts through a mix of half water and
half eighty-proof alcohol, which impressed him more than she realized. He also made note to try
something like this the next time that he made pancakes, just to see if he couldn't get them a tiny bit
fluffier and more absorptive.
=====
“What do you think people do when they're naked?” Zelda probed, her drink and suspicions getting the
better of her more typically reserved tongue.
“Swim, talk, sleep...” was all that Peach came up with.
Zelda nodded, swiftly moving on to other topics.
“Shit, she's a fucking virgin, Sonic! What the hell am I supposed to do now?” Zelda resumed her
pacing.
Peach was sound asleep, having fallen into a food coma, contentedly stuffed on roasted boar,
trimmings rich with flavor, and rum pears flambé with cinnamon and pecans. The pears had been
reconstituted from chips, but Sonic had figured that they could all use a treat. Tails and Ruru were
immersed in some board game of their own devise3 – the rules kept changing, but its current
incarnation seemed to involve a complicated board and the recycling of removed pieces: half of a liù bo
board in front of each player with senet tracks forking outward to a pair of nine men's morris boards
that braced either side, these in turn abutting an agon board between them, and surakarta loops around
the morris boards' outer corners and the agon board's central corners – and currently debating the
addition of a Northcott-nimber staging area between the morris squares and the agon field.
They were unlikely to be disturbed any time soon.
“Tab A, slot B... I don't really think virginity plays inta the mechanics of it all, Z. Up, up, down,
down, left, right, left, right – two girls, one up, y'know? Just sayin'.”
“Dammit, Sonic, I mean it.”
“I dunno what ta tell ya, Z,” Sonic began, “Yer an abrasive, thick headed pain in the ass, but the
kid's nuts about'cha – oh, an' did I mention high-handed an' acerbic?
“What'cha do on yer own time is your watch, dude, just don't fuck this up. Whichever way you
jump, ya better get it right.
“You know I love ya, Z,” he continued in a calm voice, “so you know I mean it when I promise you
this. That girl cries? I hunt you down. I beat the livin' crap outta you.”
Zelda nodded, waving this off as if it were a forgone conclusion, a law of nature.
“You like her, huh?” Sonic commented as Peach stirred the pot.
She looked up at him and smiled, then glanced over toward Zelda, who had her bow unstrung and
was busy oiling it, a block of wax standing by for the polymer string. A double-shelf recurved
composite with stiff alloy tips and cams to permit a shorter arm yet a more-controlled draw, it looked so
very different with the tension released. A warm calmness suffused her as she watched Zelda's
fingertips work the oil into every groove... her attention locked onto the task... massaging every inch of
the bow's surface slowly and carefully... a loving caress...
“Hey, eyes on the pot, you,” Sonic reminded her gently.
Peach blushed immediately and returned to dutifully ensuring that none of their dinner overcooked.
It was a large pot, fairly full of diced peppers, crushed garlic, chunks of onion, chopped walnuts, and
ground boar simmering in olive oil. The cloves, cumin, and sofrito had added a rich, complex body to
the scent, and she was really looking forward to seeing how it all came out. That reminded her to
check the bone marrow stock that they'd set to simmer at the beginning.
Sonic was arranging some tomatoes, wine, olives, and capers on their improvised sideboard,
awaiting her next step. There was a pile of small pumpkins after that. It wasn't nearly as difficult as
she had envisioned when he first proposed this, and she was really grateful for his teaching her.
“Don't get discouraged, kid. She's a tough nut ta crack, but I got a feelin' y'not barkin' up the wrong
tree there.”
She smiled with renewed hope at this.
Sensing their attention, Zelda asked without looking “What're you two on about?”
“Ahh, y'know, ships 'n' shoes 'n' sealin' wax.”
Zelda nodded, no hint of belief about her, and returned to her oiling.
=====
Leaves turned and fell away, the skies steeling steadily and ever more gray as they headed north to
higher latitudes and greater altitudes. Crossing some indeterminable point in the land, winter had set in
3 Game: see “APPENDIX C: Tails's and Ruru's game” for rules of liùznmōn.
early. A wet, fluffy snow clung to everything.
Making their way farther east, the weather settled in for the long haul. The snow changed to drier stuff,
more packed, layered with thin sheets of brittle crunch every few inches deep, spoondrift sloughing up
periodically. The wind no longer blustered, seeming to have chosen the better part of valor to go home
and sit in front of a nice warm fire. Even so, their snow goggles remained in place. The sooted slits in
the suede afforded them only a thin view of the world, but greatly reduced the glare and the spiking
pain of frozen eyes with the odd gust.
Villages came less often, towns only rarely.
Samhain found them in a village, small bonfires alight throughout. The residents were in such festive
spirits with mummers and mummenschanz, Morris dancers, harlequins, Green Men and Cernunnos and
woodwoses, plays, puppeteers, and vendors that the party was soon caught up in the moment.
They decided to stay at The Dancing Badgers and rest some, taking in a performance of Riverdance
as they began to eat. The public room bore a friendly-feeling smell of old wood beams, stews and
roasts, and fire pits.
A day-long goose dinner, with all of the trimmings – mead and mulled wine, garlic bread,
barmbrack, cidered caraway cakes and applesauce, cornbread, thick oatmeal, English muffins with
shredded turkey and sharp cheese, roasted chestnuts, savory bread stuffing, creamed corn, lamb stew,
pumpkin soup with butternut squash and turnip, stewed cranberries with a Balsamic and Madeira
reduction (Sonic had sent his compliments over this, and the head cook had come out to chat for a
while), colcannon, stuffed peppers, potatoes au gratin, soul cakes and jam, Lughnasadh pies, candied
yams and pears, plum puddings, pomegranate sorbet, lemon meringue and Key lime, apple cobbler,
pumpkin and sweet potato pies. The food was non-stop.
“Be sure ta down alla the fat 'n' juices ya can. We need the calories – winter is comin'.”
“Calories, he says?” Zelda waved down a waitress, taking a slightly more commanding tone as she
asked “Entschuldigen Sie, bitte, aber... haben Sie gutes Bier? Wurmvater Totenkopf-geburtstag
Dunkelbräu – mit den leuchtenden eldrische Runen?”
“Förlåt, jag förstår inte...” the girl replied, her speech a song-like cadence, shaking her head and
shrugging in response as she held one hand palm up.
“Oh. Umm – har du...” Zelda rolled her hand around a few times, fingers extended, as if to speed her
memory, “...bra öl? Wurmvater Totenkopf-geburtstag Dunkelbräu... ehh, Ormfader?”
“Åh, Ormfader? Ja, ja! Hur mycket vill du ha?”
“Emm... liter-liter. Två liter?” Zelda held up two fingers hopefully, pointing to each and bouncing
her hand twice.
The waitress wasn't long in returning with a pair of small untapped casks, and sure enough, they
were possessed of glowing runes. She smiled warmly as she set them down, taking her time to place
the glasses just so, ensuring Zelda a very good view down her camisole. Winking none too discreetly,
she turned away to see to the other customers.
“Kanpai!” Ruru shouted, downing her first tumbler without pausing for air.
Peach seemed fairly happy, but a bit withdrawn, staring into her fourth coquito.
Sonic looked over to Zelda, then back to Peach.
“Family?” he asked.
She nodded. “I mean, you guys are my family too, now, it's just...”
“Yeah, 'scool, we get it,” Sonic smiled, “Y'know, this stuffin' ain't half bad, but it's got nut'n on my
grampa's shit. Ton o' bread 'n' butter, apple sauce 'n' juice, powdered sage. The chopped onions were
important, an' a whole bunch o' chopped organ meats, but the key to it all was the cinnamon an' raisins.
It wasn't sweet or nut'n – fer alla that, it was act'chly savory. I'm tellin' ya, that shit's ta die for; we'll
make some soon's I get a chance, you'll love the shit. Remind me ta teach ya his kidney bean stew
while we're at it – crushed stewed tomatoes, elbow macaroni, bits o' sausage, diced carrots 'n' celery,
kidney beans... good stick-t'yer-gut 'n' warm-y'up shit. 'course, he also called it slumgullion, but it was
always the same ingredients, so I don't think he really meant it.
“Y'know,” he continued, “he had a wicked sense o' humor, too. I ever tell ya the one about the leper?
Wait, y'know the symptoms o' leprosy, right? A'ight, so this leper walks in a bar, see...”
As he cajoled Peach, several bards began making rounds through the common area, playing an
instrumental folk round.
Zelda's next rounds of Wurmvater arrived. As the waitress dropped them off, Zelda waving away
the new glasses, Sonic caught sight of the brewery's sigil. A stylized Dragon holding up a pestle for no
apparent reason, with a palace depicted in the background.
“Oh yeah,” Sonic muttered to nobody in particular, “ 'cause that ain't gonna confuse no one at all!”
The sarcasm was thick enough to be obvious even to the waitress, whose command of Common was
rather limited, though almost none could discern just what he was referring to or why. Ruru glanced
toward him, then in the direction of his gaze – the brewery's sigil – and burst out tittering.
Then he caught sight of a small purple splotch just above the dragon's thigh – a pimpernel.
“Ah c'mon, that ain't even the same freakin' one!”
As evening came on, a dozen women took the stage and played haunting melodies of pipe and drum.
When the festivities were over and all sat around basking in the glow of good food and more drink,
still munching away on æbleskiver, a wide variety of oznei Haman, and chocolate glazed cream-
doughnuts with strawberry jelly as the fire logs in the central hearth lay low, Zelda began singing,
swinging her mug of gløgg in time to the beat.
“Gutår, båd natt och dag!

Nu vällust, nytt behag!
Fukta din aska!
Fram, brännvinsflaska!
Lydom Bacchi lag!
Gutår, båd natt och dag!

Si, vår Syster Kajsa Stina,
si, hur hännes flaskor skina?
Kära ta hit stopet,
kära ta hit stopet;
grina – grina, svälj och drick, som jag....”
Sonic and Ruru joined in, well in their cups. Peach didn't know the song, or even the language, but
she enjoyed the boisterous spirit, and was soon humming along with the rest. After a few verses, the
other patrons at nearby tables were singing as well.
Before long, the tavern wenches were swept up in the moment, circulating amongst all and playing
the part of Ulla Winblad as Nymph, Goddess, and tavern prostitute. Though none were Nymphs, all
flirted often and outrageously with Zelda, who reveled in it.
Sonic glanced over to Peach as she took it all in with a smile.
He leaned over to her and said “Yeah, she's a chick magnet a'ight. Dunno what it is. She flirts a bit,
an' 'at's about it. Maybe the fact that she don't pursue it any further intrigues 'em, so they see her like
forbidden catnip, but what do I know?”
=====
“Shouldn't we stick to more populated regions? Aren't you afraid of the brigands and monsters that they
warned us about back there?” Peach asked as they continued along the increasingly empty road.
Sonic glanced over at her with a smile, as Ruru and Tails shared a lighthearted laugh.
Zelda replied “We are what goes bump in the night, Princess,” winking at Sonic.
Peach mulled this over.
“You know, that's really not very reassuring at all.”
“Two pretty girls alone in woods? Only pets come too? No safe here; we keep you warm, ah?” a deep
voice asked, rich with menace and mirth. A large man, Human, stepped out into the path from behind
an ancient oak tree. Two more came around the other side of the tree.
“Bakayaro. You should not have done that...” Ruru announced disparagingly, beginning to shadow
box atop Epona's head complete with sound effects, as an eight inch frozen tuna appeared in a sheath
belted to her back.
As Peach watched the men, she became uncomfortable, seeing another two sauntering out onto the
other side of the path.
While they were not yet flanked as such, the path itself was barred not five paces hence.
Zelda and Sonic shot their heads at each other.
“Mine!” they said simultaneously.
They held their glares a moment longer. Sonic waved the back of his hand, dismissing it, returning
his attention to the pepperoni in his other hand.
“Fine, you keep 'em – but I got dibs on the next bunch. Fuckin' amateurs.”
Zelda dismounted easily as the first man came forward a few steps and stood there.
Peach glanced nervously to Sonic, who smiled and said “No prob'm. She's got 'em outnumbered one
ta five.”
Her worried frown turned to a confused frown as she returned her attention to Zelda and the
strangers.
The man wore an ugly smile as his eyes roved along her body.
“Pets no good skin, lunch maybe. Girls we keep warm, ja?”
She could smell the stale sweat and rank breath from where she stood.
Taking two paces forward, she stopped and glanced at the brigands lounging around casually in the
background, looked up to the sky. Cracking her neck, she announced calmly “Walk away.”
They laughed.
“Listen, hure–” the leader started, his hand crossing to his pommel.
Time not-time. Sound that isn't.

Forward. Left.
Hyoid and lower ribs.
Wrist and armpit.
Hilt. Scum, trees, people, trees, scum, intestines.
Reverse, up, blood. Down, chest.
Knee.
Birds. Air. Light. Time.
The blur stopped even as it started. Zelda stood as she had a heartbeat before, only now with blood
covering her breeches and some spray on her face. The man was practically quartered, a gash opening
his right side, another drawn from crotch to throat, his falchion half-buried in his chest.
He was still choking, his larynx crushed and blood now frothing from his mouth, his arm hanging
useless by his side, leg bent at an unnatural angle, face caught between a sneer and shock. Then he
collapsed, inert.
“Next,” Zelda announced, facing the path in general, staring at the ground.
“Don't. Fucking. Move,” was all that Sonic said, even as Peach thought to do so. The air was stiff,
pointy, almost painful.
The other brigands had turned tail and been gone for the past minute or two, but nobody else had yet
moved.
As if considering his rucksack for a midday nap's pillow, Sonic placed it onto the ground calmly.
Rummaging through it, he withdrew a loaf of dark bread. Pumpernickel.
Breaking it open and wafting it around slowly, he approached Zelda, bread outstretched,
nonthreatening.
Zelda turned toward him, but something about her didn't look right. It wasn't that she couldn't see
him, but that she looked right through him. She focused on the bread, blinked, blinked again more
slowly, and took it.
Sonic relaxed.
Returning to the others, he said “She's cool. Just gonna be a bit fucked fer a while. Give 'er a bit ta
come back.”
Peach simply stared at Zelda in pure fangirl hero-worship.
“Dumme Hosenscheißen Schweinhunde.”
Slapping Peach's arm lightly with the back of his fingertips to get her attention, Sonic continued
“Don't treat her all funny-like – just... just don't move fast or nut'n. 'least not fer an hour or so.”
He considered things as he riffled through the brigand's pockets. As he'd expected, nothing but the
falchion and a coin purse containing a dozen different currencies. Maybe forty bucks. Even his
snowshoes were worthless home-jobs, just some sticks and vines. “A'ight, let's get goin' then. An' keep
yer eyes peeled fer a decent campin' spot.”
“What about the body?” Peach asked.
“What about it?” Sonic replied, “His ticket's punched. Either somebody'll find it, or some'n'll get
hungry soon enough.”
“It's barely mid-morning. We still have five or six hours of daylight left.”
“Yeah, 'bout that. We're takin' a siesta.”
Zelda took out a cigar and lit it, staring into the distance.
Peach could smell something else coming from her. It wasn't blood or offal, though those were there
aplenty. It wasn't the tang of exercise. This was something thicker, heavier. More animal. A meat
scent. The scent of a hunt. It went straight to the back of Peach's throat and the base of her skull. She
suppressed an urge to go breathe next to Zelda, to lick her neck.
They encamped within a copse not much farther down the trail.
Zelda and Peach shared a bottle, before Zelda headed to bed early.
A few minutes passed in companionable silence, the fire crackling.
“So,” Sonic began, “now that'cha seen what Z's capable of, haddya feel about it?”
Peach replied immediately, knowing exactly how she felt in this instance.
“She was amazing,” she said breathlessly, “the way that she was so calm and collected, and then
swoosh! She didn't waste any time, she just destroyed the highwayman.”
“Uh-huh,” he replied, “and?”
“And...”
“An' he's dead. Stone dead. He ain't comin' back tomorrow. He's gone. Any friends 'n' family've lost
him forever. No more quiet nights 'round the fire, no more kisses stolen under moonlight, nut'n. Just
dead,” Sonic finished quietly.
“And if she hadn't killed him? What then?” Peach asked, “Would he and his cohorts have simply
asked the time of day and been on their way? I think not.
“They were bad men. They might not always have been, and maybe they could have changed, but as
it stands, they chose their own paths at the moment, and fate came with the winds.”
Sonic pursed his lips. “And it coulda been us lyin' there just as easy, 'steada him, yeah.”
“Would you teach me?” Peach asked him directly, “I wish to fight as she does, to stop people who
won't otherwise stop.”
Sonic didn't say anything. His face didn't change, but still looked harder than it had a moment
before.
He turned and stared into the fire.
Time enough passed that Peach decided that he wouldn't answer her on the subject.
Finally he turned back to her and simply said “Yeah.”
He looked sad, old; almost as if he regretted something lost, “Ya don't hafta be a weapon, ya know.
You are who ya choose to be. You choose. You can be Superman.”
Another pause.
“Tomorra mornin'. Early. Be ready.”
He then returned to staring into the fire, saying nothing more.
“Why does Zelda smoke so much? And always only those funny-smelling cigars? What's in them,
anyway?”
Sonic hesitated, “Nightmares. Can't say more'n'at. Ya' gotta ask her.”
“Does it happen to everyone? The nightmares and spaciness and stuff?”
“That ain't where her nightmares come from, but nah. Depends. 'sno prob'm fer me, I... came ta
terms wit' things... a ways back – but she's nicer'n me,” he said, “an' you're a lot nicer,” he added
pointedly.
“Look,” he tried, “she coulda' paralyzed that guy six ways ta Sunday 'steada killin' him. She chose ta
kill him, make no mistake. If she hadn't, then yeah, we'd prob'ly'a had ta beat the shit outta his boys, an'
he prob'ly woulda' gone 'n' raped 'n' killed a whole lot more people later, but that don't change the fact
that she killed him, an' that she did so by choice. There's a huge gap between law and justice. Think
about what that means to 'er. Years of it.”
When Peach crawled into their bedroll, Zelda awoke a bit and scooched backward toward her in
order to be the little spoon. Peach held her in her arms, brushing her hand slowly over Zelda's hair,
rocking her gently.
Half a dozen cigar roaches sat stubbed on her side of the bedroll.
Morning. Still dark out, with a hint of false dawn touching the horizon.
Peach crept out quietly from the tent.
She and Sonic made their way to a clearing not far away.
Looking her up and down, then around the small clearing, he asked “How many fights ya been in?”
“Do cats count?”
He tilted his head, “How big?”
She thought for a moment, then held out her hands about shoulder length apart.
“Meh. Fer hand-eye, sure. Maybe readin' their movements fer telegraphin'. 'sabout it.”
“Hit me,” he told her.

She hesitated. They'd already drilled some in basic stances – horse, tiger, crane, mantis, cat, and
others – arm positions, safe fist formations, and a few other things, and she'd quickly gotten the hang of
punching and kicking a dummy of leather-wrapped pussy willow, but this would be her first attempt at
actually hitting another person. She really didn't like the idea of hurting him.
“Did I fuckin' stutter? Hit me,” he repeated, his voice pushing, cutting.
Suddenly she was looking sideways, her face burning from his strike.
“I'm not'cher friend. I'm either yer target or yer killer. Hit me.”
She lunged halfheartedly, but he moved.
She found herself face down in the snow and frozen earth.
“Wipe me outta existence, or I kill ya.”
No sooner had the words left his mouth than he became a blur of blue and brown, tumbling
sideways. The blur came to a stop ten feet later. He and Zelda faced each other in guarded positions.
“What the faeck are ye doing?” she demanded in a low growl.
They moved in a slow circle.
“Teachin' her ta fight,” he replied evenly.
“I know what the faeck ye're doing, now what the faeck are ye doing?” she repeated.
“She. Asked. Me.”
With that, it were as if a door to Pandemonium itself had closed, the violence in the air dissipating as
abruptly as it had arisen.
Zelda's eyes moved to Peach. She lowered her arms, though her face remained deadly serious.
“You. Camp,” she turned back to Sonic, “You. With me,” and headed in the other direction.
An hour passed as Peach and Tails readied breakfast.

A second hour passed nervously. They didn't break camp, had no direction to follow, barely talked.
At the end of the third hour, Sonic and Zelda returned.
They sat at the fire, still lit for warmth.
Neither one said a word, nor so much as looked at anyone else.
Taking food, they stared at it, as if seeing it for the first time.
“We'll be staying here for a couple of days,” Zelda announced, “We could all do with a rest.
Princess, Sonic is going to show you a few things. You will learn them well, and you will practice them
at every turn. That is not a request.”
=====
“A hunnert push-ups, a hunnert sit-ups, a hunnert squats, an' run ten kilometers every day – preferably
parkour. Just trust me, you'll have the speed o' lightnin' an' roar o' thunder in no time flat. A perfect five
outta seven.
“Remember ta stick ta smooth explosive motions, twistin' but not circular. Don't telegraph a fuckin'
thing to me, just attack or defend or run or whatever right outta the gate. You see me put my hands up,
ya know I'm lookin' ta hurtcha; I don't do shit, an' you got no clue from Jump Street.
“Hard ta soft, 'n' vice versa; round ta straight, 'n' vice versa. Y'know all those weak points I
showed'ja? They're all shear planes, pressure points an' shatter points, nerve clusters, easily
hemorrhaged bits, an' vital organs. Hit 'em right, 'n' you'll dislocate their joints, stop the heart, rupture
their spleen or appendix or arteries; stuff like that.
“Blockin' is fine if it works for ya, especially ta steal their momentum ta help push ya in another
direction, but parryin'll keep ya from bein' forced inta that direction, an' a simultaneous interceptin'
attack'll cause 'em damage at the same time. Doin' that ta two or three points at once'll keep 'em off
balance 'n' can be split between multiple opponents.
“Ultimately, ya wanna punch from yer centerline, use yer triceps 'n' hips, keep yer fists loose 'til
impact an' yer kicks low, stay loose, shoot fer about sevenny percent extension, an' aim fer maybe an
inch or so past the strikin' point.”
As Sonic lectured, he was also putting Peach through her paces. For the moment, she was only
moving through a simple set of motions – blocking, advancing, spinning, feinting, striking – but all the
while her attention was divided between these and his rhetoric. He'd already established that he wasn't
teaching her anything that her body didn't already know, and she was beginning to see his point; as long
as she didn't pay it much attention, her muscles placed themselves where they needed to be
automatically, and far faster than had she chosen to move consciously in any particular fashion. It was
like ice skating, just... more full contact than usual. Flips, rolls, and break-falls were fun, too.
“If this is the basic stuff, then what are the advanced techniques like?” Peach asked.
Sonic smiled humorlessly.
“The advanced stuff is fer not killin' an' maimin'. Right now, yer learnin' what'cha need ta know ta
survive. Period. 'snot about bein' fair or nice. Ya kill or destroy whatever's comin' atcha, or they do it ta
you. That's it. The secret o' winnin' is that the pointy bit goes inta the other guy. The secret o' not losin'
is simply goin' wherever their pointy shit ain't gonna be – be like water, respond ta yer environment,
feel the flow, fill the shape.
“Just don't get too carried away an' shit, y'know? Before zen, there's wood ta be chopped an' water ta
be drawn; then there's zen; after zen, there's wood ta be chopped an' water ta be drawn.”
Sonic placed a stone on the grid.

“Happenstance, coincidence, conspiracy – an' you can bet good money it ain't gonna be no co-inky-
dink. If some'n just don't make sense no matter hayya look at it, it's usually 'cause someone's up ta
some'n. Ask yerself how someone could benefit from it, an' who – 'n' when ya got a good answer, look
fer a better one. Fer that matter, if it's so easy ta see, yer prob'ly missin' some'n an' walkin' right into it.”
Peach thought about this, eyes roaming the impromptu board. She knew how to play go, and was
good at it, but Sonic's stratagems were thoroughly unorthodox.
“When we reach civilization again, I'll see about pickin' up a few other games. Chess, xian qi, shit
like that. 'snot about playing some game or jugglin' moves 'n' lookin' ahead. 's about seeing what I'm
not doin', watchin' what I'm thinkin'. The words I use can tell ya' more'n what I say. Watch my body
language, listen to little changes in my voice – but'cha gotta be careful, sometimes some'n one person
does gives away their lie, but shows truth or don't mean shit in another person, plus maybe I'm just
puttin' those clues there ta misleadja, or ta make ya think I'm misleadin' ya. Thing is, it ain't about why
I'm doin' some'n, or even what I'm doin', just that I'm doin' it at all – that's what any fnord is all about
in the end – so trust'cher gut; it's usually got shit right more'n yer heart or brain.”
Peach placed her stone, capturing the ko, and he glanced up at her.
“Lemme ask ya this; one D four, or one E four?”
Peach gave this some serious thought and replied “I understand why some prefer one E four, as it
certainly allows for a rapid development and attack, but I really prefer one D four; it's more cautious,
and offers more-flexible deployment.”
“Uh-huh, that and it don't hurt that ya got a better chance o' winnin' or at least drawin' wit' D four. Ya
gonna go wit' it every time?”
“I guess that it would depend upon whom I were playing.”
“You got it. Moves ain't right or wrong, just right or wrong right now.”
“This is called 'push hands',” Sonic said as he squared himself in front of Peach.
Putting one hand behind his back, he raised the other between them, closing his eyes.
“Now you do the same, puttin' the back o' yer hand against the back o' mine.”
As she did so, he continued, “Follow my hand wherever it goes, but don't push hard. When ya feel
like it, just move yours wherever you want, an' I'll follow. Feel the movements. Let our motions
merge.”
She focused on the nei gong that he'd shown her earlier, breathing, leaning and twisting, loosening
herself while rooting to the ground. In so doing, she noticed that while it was so very similar to their
previous session of grinding arm, this had a gentler balance to it, less of a focus on her core and triceps;
rather than forced resistance, this was a smooth and graceful negotiation.
While they went through this exercise, Zelda explained about pulling in chi.
“Feel the air,” she told Peach, “You can hear my hand near your ear, right?”
Peach nodded to her.
Zelda moved silently from one place to another, but Peach always kept her face toward Zelda as she
and Sonic continued to weave. Whenever Zelda passed more than a few feet away, it became difficult
to pin down her location, though Peach still had an idea of her general direction.
After several minutes of this, Peach felt tense, a brooding sensation washing over her.
She jerked her head around to look back, and found a dire honey badger 4 watching from beneath the
bare branches of some bushes a few yards away.
Zelda was now in front of her, growling in an inhuman voice. Peach could feel a wave of brutal
intention flooding from Zelda, her growl needing no translation.
I will devour you, little thing.
The beast answered with a low growl of its own, but meeker, a mere shadow of Zelda's, as it slunk
away to safer grounds.
“...an' that's The Voice, also called The Weirdin' Way. I can't do it, but maybe she'll show ya how–”
“You knew that it would be there!” Peach was shocked.
“I believed it likely. There were fresh tracks in the area.”
“But you knew, and still came here. With me,” she insisted.
“You were safe with us, Princess,” Zelda said, “and the dire honey badger was the whole point of
this.”
Peach's mouth hung open, but she found herself speechless.
“You felt its presence, its attention, once it started watching you. That was the purpose of this
lesson.”
“...yeah, let's all head back ta camp 'n' we can do some'n less stressful,” Sonic said, seeking to
deflect things, “I know! We'll grab a bite ta eat, an' I'll show ya' 'sticky hands'. You'll like that one. 'sall
about movin' yer arms around 'n' slappin' each other's attempts ta get through.”
“Think of it like a free-form gavotte,” Sonic said as they danced in broad lunges, “ 'cept every move is
an automatic parry 'n' simultaneous attack... like a full-contact tanabata – an' remember that ya don't
have two arms 'n' legs, ya got basically four of each, an' yer head 'n' torso're weapons too, just not really
a smart choice is all. Hell, anything lyin' around is a weapon, though they can always be used against
ya'.”
For the past hour, they had been moving to an unpredictable beat that Ruru tapped out against a
4 Honey badger: documented cases exist of cooperative zoo-escapes in order to pick fights with lions.
hollow log. She had twitched her nose and wriggled her fingers before beginning, and now seemed
accompanied by a small percussion section lurking someplace just out of sight, their rattles and claps
providing bursts of flavor to the melodies that she managed to coax from the wood. As her sounds rang
out chaotically, they never stopped moving, swaying drunkenly sometimes, lurching like snakes or
tumbling like baboons, often leaping wildly or performing handstands to kick at each other, but always
coming back to the ginga – a triangular stepping that gave leverage to their limbs and torque to their
midriffs, offering lateral motion and rapid changes of angle. The snake and baboon movements weren't
quite as stylized as those of some of other animals that he'd taught Peach – and this serpentine nature in
particular was definitely not the same as one that he'd specifically called “snake style” before – but she
chose to think of them as such at least in short-hand. She came to appreciate the ginga in learning the
meia lua de compasso. It looked so obvious in a swift spin of the leg, nothing but an outside crescent
kick as a distractor followed by a variation of dui dolyuh chagi... until she found herself attempting it.
Zelda and Tails had joined in as well, once Peach had begun to feel the rhythm. Sonic called these
exercises capoeira, claiming that they were designed for use when chained. Whatever else they might
be, she called them exhausting.
=====
As sunrise came, Sonic took Peach to the nearby pond.

“Ya said ya like ta ice skate. Got me thinkin'.”
Peach looked out over the frozen surface wistfully.
“It's beautiful, Sonic, but it's covered in snowy frosty stuff.”
Sonic just smiled.
“C'mon. I wanna show ya some'n.”
They walked out onto the ice, and he gave her a shove. Peach's leg stiffened and shot forward a
hair, her other leg beating a tattoo in the air as she slid forward as well. After coming to a stop, she
turned to him in puzzlement, only to find him nodding to himself.
“Good,” he said, “Ya got the right idea there. Ya didn't panic over the unexpected, ya just let'cher
body react to reality.”
“...that's it?” she asked, stunned.
“Waddya want I should do here, Eliza, pile books on yer head?”
Peach's face took on the now-familiar glaze of confusion.
“Yup. 'at's it,” he replied, “Now, ya wanna skate some?”
“But, the surface...”
“Look again. Notice how easy I pushed ya?” he smiled broadly as he pointed around with his chin,
“That's 'cause I glassed it a few hours ago. I knew there was gonna be a hard freeze, an' I could smell
the light snow comin' right after it, so... there ya go.”
Peach looked more closely at the ice. Just a patina of tiny icy flakes. Indeed, even as she watched,
the morning breeze was beginning to blow the grains away to reveal an unblemished skin beneath.
“Aww, thank you!” she grinned and bounced. Practically jumping onto him to give him a tight hug
and a kiss on his furry cheek, she started sliding around.
“Yeah sure, no prob'm kid, don't worry about it. Call it a mitzvah,” he said to himself as he sat on a
nearby log to watch, “an' happy birthday...”
As she skated merrily, he punched a hole in the ice and began fishing.
Settled in, he checked on Peach once more.
Quadruple Axel? Damn, that kid's good.
As Peach began to eat, Sonic asked her how it tasted.

“It seems O.K. to me, why?”
“Well,” Sonic glanced at her bowl, “just wondering if ya like hemlock.”
Peach looked down to see a thin green sprig in her soup. She looked back up to Sonic in a panic.
“Chill, man. I'm fuckin' wit'cha. Kinda,” he said, his face still holding a serious set, “That's just wild
carrot. Same family, but harmless unless ya choke on it – but it coulda' been legit. Don't matter if it got
there intentionally or not, ya'd be just as dead. Check everything before ya do anything. Look it over,
sniff it, poke it wit' a stick.”
Peach looked uncomfortable, but digested this as she inspected the rest of her food.
They broke camp late that morning and arrived in a village before dusk. The buildings were generally
two and three story half-timber Tudor structures, all with sharply sloped rooves and thick double walls.
They found a large inn across the village green.
“The Three Lazy Weasels?” Peach asked, “First The Dancing Badgers, and now this. I don't get it.”
“It's international law, y'know?” Sonic quipped, “All inns, taverns, boardin' houses, 'n' so forth shall
heretofore an' in perpetuity be named in humorous an' animal-related manner. Same Bat-time, same
Bat-channel.”
“You know, there are times when I don't understand half of what you say.”
He chuckled at that. “That's a'ight, could be worse. You coulda said 'I don't know half o' you half as
well as I should like, and I like less than half o' you half as well as you deserve'.”
“Case... in... point,” she replied.
Zelda leaned over and interjected “I don't get half of the shite from his mouth, I just listen to the
tone of his voice. It's easier if you just nod and smile.”
Tethering Epona, they headed for the entrance.
“A wet tabard contest?” Zelda grinned as they entered the inn, “Nice. Now that I can really go for...”
A band was playing on the stage, Dodongos Ate My Baby, the music filtering out through the door.
“...if I had
those golden dreams
of my yesterdays,
I would wrap you
in the heaven
'til I'm dyin'
on the way....”
One of the wet tabard contestants came by after the show, having changed into dry clothing.
Her name was Elsa, and she was one of the waitresses there, but it was one of her nights off. She
dreamed of going on adventures, but for now simply enjoyed hearing adventurers' tales and studying
any techniques they suggested.
Zelda bought the party jägerschnitzel and preheated pitchers of hot glühwein. The glühwein kept
flowing, and Peach sat in Zelda's lap through most of the evening – ostensibly to make room for the
contestant – sharing Zelda's mugs and plates.
“Now, take this spaghetti, f'rinstance,” Sonic told Peach, “it's al ragù alla bolognese, right? Thing is,
ya'd normally do that with tagliatelle, or at least fettucine, though fer fettucine I'd suggest al triplo
burro. Spaghetti's fine, y'know – it's just... 'snot tradition, capisce? But hey, 'least they took it out right
on time fer a perfect al dente – boiled it nine and a half ta ten minutes, no more, no less. Now, finish up
before the linguine gets here, 'cause I still wanna go over that pesto wit'cha. Fer the moment, talk ta me
about this sauce – what's it tellin' ya?”

“There's Asiago in the sauce base, with butter added right before serving, giving it slightly sweet and
creamy edge. They sautéed the garlic just about right, but messed up by throwing in the oregano too
late, and straight into the sauce rather than the oil base, so it's little flecks of dry-green flavor, ” Peach
licked her palate a few times, drawing air across her tongue and slowly up and down the back of her
sinus cavity, “there's also a sweet sausage, but another one as well... slightly spiced, flavored with...
umm, fennel and anise?”
“Yeah! Ya fuckin' nailed it,” he replied with an encouraging grin, “Now tell me about the meats in
the sauce – not the sausages, the meaty bits in the sauce. What'd they use, an' how'd they prep 'em?”
The band took a break, and things were quiet for a while. When they came back, they swapped out
their instruments. They were the same types of instruments as before, but detuned to A 415.
They began to play. The song wasn't quite discordant; oddly familiar, but off somehow. The
melody was haunting, indexed to D minor, a slow 120 BPM. Dark, electrifying, tense.
“Another head hangs lowly, child is slowly taken,

and the violence caused such silence, who are we mistaken?”
Zelda stopped moving, her body rigid.

Breathe. Focus. Drop D. Twelve string bass. One set normal, another overdamped, the last almost
underdamped. Vibrato fingerings. Plucking tremolo by the bridge.
“But, you see, it's not me, it's not my family

in your head, in your head, they are fighting...”
Zelda lurched up, squeezing her eyes shut, her skin ashen, her movements wobbly.
“I need air,” she announced, her voice harsh and abrupt.
Elsa watched her walk toward the door.
“You girlfriend. She is O.K.?” she asked Peach.
“Yes. I think so. Maybe. I don't know,” Peach replied, “And she's not my girlfriend, we're... just...
friends. Really good friends,” her voice dropping a little woefully as she finished, her head still turned
in the direction that Zelda had gone.
Elsa glanced at the door, then over to Sonic. Throwing a hand into the air as he raised his eyebrow,
he rolled his eyes in exasperation, shrugging as he blew out his cheeks and shook his head wearily. She
winced in sympathy and turned back to Peach.
“She see you all night safe where you go, where you are, what you do. Bring you foods, drinks.
Look to see you happy; have fun. Maybe I am wrong. No girlfriend. She is fine, hmm?”
Peach glanced at her, then back to the door, biting her lip as her expression grew more concerned.
“I'm just going to make sure that she's O.K., guys. I'll be right back.”
Outside. Peach followed the scent of cinnamon mixed with burning tea leaves and chocolate. Zelda
and one of her cigars.
She found Zelda in a darkened area of the inn's porch, the cold air settling her somewhat. The
temperature was dropping some, but the air felt wetter, too.
“Is there anything that I can help with? I'm here, if you need me.”
A whimper escaped Zelda's throat as she fell to a crouch, hugging herself, her cigar forgotten. A
moment later, she vomited.
Peach began to crouch next to her, reaching out to hold Zelda's hair before realizing that there were
people nearby. She looked up. It was two of the brigands from the road.
“You friend no big, ha? Maybe we help have fun?” one of them laughed as they approached.
Peach stepped in front of Zelda, directly into the face of the one who had just spoken.
“I will fucking dismember you!” she snarled, bouncing lightly on her back leg, front leg poised just
above the floorboards, arms loose and hands half-open at different levels. Her position spoke in no
way of defense; she was on the offense and awaiting only their move to commit them to folly.
The brigands paused, doubt crossing their faces. They turned partly away, enough to ensure their
safe egress, but still keeping a cautious eye on Peach as they retreated carefully.
“I could've handled them.”
“I know. I've seen. But you don't have to. I'm here now.”
This seemed to stab deep into Zelda. Her face froze in a contortion of pain.
“Faeck! Not again...” Zelda's head turned away quickly, a jerking motion.
The floor seemed to wobble unevenly beneath her as she retreated into the recesses of her mind, the
past, no longer seeing the world around her. Falling. Always falling, the universe shrinking to a dark
and narrow tunnel, crying out, nobody ever hearing her screams, her pleas for help. Losing herself,
outside looking in. Now Pérdida is screaming at her about being useless, belittling her, insulting her,
manipulating her, laughing... leaving. The explosion, her family gone, Warbotdorf stepping in. She's
running, her world gone. Then there's Sonic. A song played in her mind. The same song as ever. Only
the chorus ever came, and it never stopped.
Thunder only happens when it's rainin',

players only love you when they're playin'.
Say women, they will come and they will go.
When the rain washes you clean, you'll know,
you'll know,
you will know,
you'll know...
Fishing through Zelda's tunic, Peach retrieved her cigar case.

“Well, now I know where she keeps these things...” she said quietly, her cheeks burning red.
Lighting one for Zelda presented little challenge, having watched her do so so many times before.
She took pains to suck the cigar as if it were a straw, pulling on it several times to ensure that the ember
remained well lit.
It smells sort of like fresh cut grass, but tastes like a thick and sweetened incense smoke...
As she closed the cigar case, there was a soft sighing sound, and Sonic collapsed in the nearby
shadows.
Tails looked at the nearly catatonic Zelda, then inspected Sonic.
Finally he turned to Peach.
“I guess we'll call it a night, huh?”
Peach's eyes were wide as she kept her face firmly averted to tuck away the case back into its
nestling place, her breathing tense for the moment that it took.
Peach and Tails managed to help Zelda stumble upstairs, at turns shying away from any physical
contact as if being touched were itself an attack and then huddling close for comfort, disoriented and
unresponsive, as they carried Sonic between them. At least they weren't worried for him, since Zelda
had pulled out enough to say that it was only a knock-out drug from a concealed dart gun in her cigar
case. Her concern had clamped down hard on her defenses to let that much out, but then crumbled
again as she fell back into the darkness within.
After having gotten Zelda and Sonic into their beds, Peach asked Tails to get some food, handing
him a list that she'd written hastily. Upon his return, he handed her a warm wineskin as well.
Peach looked at him, asking a silent question.
“It's something that I mixed together for her,” he said, “Make sure she drinks it all, but just small
sips every so often.”
Peach opened it and took a sniff, “Smells interesting. Not bad – not good, but... not bad. What's in
it?”
Tails screwed up his face in concentration, trying to explain it concisely, “Willow bark and leaf for
her head, birch bark for her head and stomach, some ginger for flavor and her stomach, ground chalk
for her stomach, a little charcoal to help her gut with the birch's side-effects, ahh... a bit of wintergreen
to add to the birch's flavor, and some cornstarch to bind it all,” he rattled off, “Oh, and some chamomile
for her nerves, and valerian and lavender to help her sleep, or probably just take the edge off a bit, and
a bunch of thyme to help with her nightmares tonight. There's also a spoon or two of butter in it, mixed
with some essential oils that I extract from her cigars; pretty much the key ingredient, really. I
sweetened it a little with a simple syrup of açaí.
“Also,” he added, reaching into his pouch, “if you can get her to eat a few pats of this butter on
some crackers, it would really help her a lot. It has some more of those essential oils in it. A lot more.”
“Oh,” Peach looked slightly dazed, caught off guard, “when did you have time for all of this?”
“It's what I pick while we're on the trail,” he said, “you know all of those leaves and berries and stuff
that I stop for?”
She nodded.
“That's what I'm doing, when I do that. I collect all kinds of stuff like that in my pack for times like
this, or broken bones, or sickness, and I usually keep at least a couple of premixed packets ready for
when Zelda has one of her really bad spells.”
“You and I need to talk about all of this – in depth. I need to know a lot more, learn whatever I can
from you, just in case, but not right now. Go check on Sonic and get some rest while I tend to Zelda,
O.K.?” she asked him.
Tails smiled and nodded, then scurried off.
By this time, Zelda had lit a cigar out of habit, though she wasn't dragging on it much.
“Zelda?” Peach approached her slowly, cautiously, “Are you feeling any better?”
Zelda nodded listlessly, though there was more life in her now than there had been for the past
twenty minutes. Her breathing was calm and steady, at least, and her eyes had lost some of their
haunted look.
“Come here,” Peach said gently, pulling Zelda toward her as she sat down.
Zelda offered no resistance, resting her face against Peach's breast without any argument, even
closing the gap a little of her own accord. This worried Peach more than anything else so far.
She stroked Zelda's hair and racked her brain for something that might help.
“Would you like me to tell you a story?” she asked.
She couldn't be certain, but it seemed that Zelda shrugged. It wasn't much at all, the barest of
motions.
“Anything in particular?” she prompted, hoping for more of a response.
“Zombies?” Zelda mumbled quietly, almost a whisper.
“Zombies. Are you sure?” Peach asked.
Zelda moved her head slightly and said “Simple. Easy. Honest. Always know the bad guy. Kill, run,
hide, repeat.”
Peach considered this for a moment.
“How about if I tell you the tale of Bearskin? If you're still interested after that, then I'll tell all the
zombie stories you want, O.K.?”
Zelda didn't offer an opinion, so Peach started in on the assumption that it wouldn't hurt, and if
Zelda objected, then that would still be progress.
As she reached to close the lamp's airflow, Zelda touched her arm.
“Leave it on?” she asked in a small voice, almost inaudible.
Peach smiled and nodded, hurting for Zelda.
Passing the butter, crackers, and wineskin to Zelda, Peach began her yarn.
She told the tale of Bearskin, a soldier returned home from the wars, penniless, aimless, alone. How
one evening as he sat at his campfire, a bear had appeared.
He'd killed the bear, and while he skinned it, a demon made its presence known. The demon offered
him a deal: he must wear the bearskin for a year and a day, never removing it, never washing, telling
nobody his story or of this deal, always moving on after no more than a night's rest; he would always
have adequate funds within a pouch of the skin, but only sufficient to survive at a bare minimum. After
this period had elapsed, had he followed the terms of this agreement throughout, then the demon would
see him again and restore his good fortunes forevermore. If he were to misstep even once in that time
though, then his soul would be forfeited immediately.
Having no other options that he could foresee, the soldier struck the demon's bargain.
For months, the soldier traveled, seeking shelter in barns and caves. At first, he still sought
company, but soon was shunned and reviled.
One day, as he trudged wearily along a road, a carriage trundled along and stopped just ahead of
him. The man driving it told the soldier to climb aboard, as he looked as if he could truly use the rest.
Too exhausted to argue, the soldier complied.
They soon arrived at the man's home, a large estate with a well kept manor.
As the carriage approached, the man's daughters saw him through a window. The eldest two buzzed
about what new gifts their father would bring them. The youngest of the three, Candida, waited only to
greet him home again.
As the carriage arrived, the elder two mistook Bearskin for a rug, and were in a frenzy when he
moved.
They would have nothing to do with him, attending only what trinkets and baubles their father had
to offer them.
Candida kissed her father and tended to their guest's needs. As he ate, they talked. He told her of
the world, the people and places that were out there. They discussed art and philosophy and the
sciences. As evening drew to a close, he took his leave to seek out the stables. Resting her hand on his,
she showed him to a room in the manor, that he might rest well instead.
Morning came, and with it he bade the father and youngest daughter adieu. Of the elder daughters
there was no sign. Candida asked that he return to her when his travels were over, and to this he
agreed.
The remaining time flew by for him unnoticed, his heart filled with joy and promise, and when the
time came due, a year and a day to the very minute, the demon showed himself once more. He was
enraged, knowing that the soldier had indeed not infringed the terms of their agreement in the slightest.
Stripping the soldier of the skin and washing his lesions, the demon then bequeathed the soldier with
an aura that ensured success in all future endeavors and parted ways, never to see him again.
When the soldier finally made his way back to the businessman's home, it was in a fine coach and
four, well-armed outriders maintaining a relaxed presence. Even they and the liveried servants riding
within the side-booths were cast in great style and elegance.
His old friend was outside to meet him, as were the elder daughters. Candida remained within,
staring into the horizon, still awaiting his return.
As they dined, the elder daughters vied in every way for his attention, choosing the choicest morsels
to feed him, dropping the boldest of hints as to their willingness to please him in every way.
Throughout the evening, they sought to outdo each other for this most handsome gentleman's interest.
Candida was polite to him, but distant, mooning over her love, gone these many months.
The next day passed likewise, as did the following week, and indeed the entire month.
When finally he revealed himself, spurning the elder two for Candida, the businessman was beside
himself with joy, knowing that at last his youngest would smile once more.
On the day of their wedding, the eldest sister hanged herself in spite, the other having hurled herself
into the river, each seeking to cast a pall over the union. The demon showed himself one last time,
collecting their souls in trade for the one that he had lost, but Bearskin and Candida knew neither want
nor strife for the rest of their days.
As Peach finished her tale, Tails was crying and Zelda had roused herself to listen, both of them
enthralled by Peach's words and soft voice.
“Alright guys, I think that it's time for a break,” she said, eyeing both of them, “Tails, it's getting
pretty late. Shouldn't you be asleep?”
“I'm fine,” he said, yawning and rubbing his eyes.
“Well, we'll eat something for now. If you're still awake after that, then I suppose that you might as
well listen in, since I'll be telling Zelda about zombies at that point.”
As Zelda came out of her reverie, she looked at Peach as if through new eyes.
“You have the bardic knack, lass.”
Zelda looked at the food that Peach had had Tails bring up earlier. Peach had stored the various bits
separately – the cold goods in shelves lining the thick walls at the small window, the hot goods in tins
affixed to the heating duct that spiraled upward along the walls, and the bread on the table.
“What is all of this?” she asked, “Why are you being nice to me? What do you want?”
“Warm chicken noodle soup, hot gravy and cold pork roast and beef brisket for the brown rye,
sweetened butter for the meats, salted margarine for the combined lingonberry-loganberry jam,
crackers for the soup, a gallon of cold milk that you'll probably finish before morning, and pickled
eggs. There's also a bunch of cold chicken and mayonnaise for sandwich snacks.”
“...what... why?”
“Well... I didn't know what else to do and I know how much you love food, and you need to eat, and
I know what your comfort foods are and how you like them, and a little bit about your favorite foods.”
“Fucking stalker,” Zelda said, amiably disgruntled.
“Urusai shite taberu, baka hentai tsundere!” Ruru chastised from her perch on the lamp.
Zelda threw up her middle finger, with her index half-extended in an oddly mixed gesture.
Peach watched their exchange with exasperation.
“Eat now. Angry later,” she told Zelda, shaking her forefinger.
As Zelda dug into the soup, she looked up in consternation.
“This is full of ham and split peas! Is this supposed to be soup or a pot pie?!?”
“It's better for you that way, and more filling. My idea. Now eat.”
“Are those... boiled peanuts?” she couldn't believe what she was seeing.
“Eat,” Peach told her firmly, raising her brow and crossing her arms.
Zelda grumbled and took a bite. Her look transformed to curiosity, then enthusiasm.
“You're weird. This stuff is weird. And the really weird part is that this stuff is good. Where the hell
did it come from?”
“I asked Tails to gather it all together before we settled in – and before you freak out again, it has a
bunch of clams, mushrooms, and vegetables in it, too. I already knew what the kitchen had to offer this
evening, so I had these soups mixed because it seemed as if you might need something like it. The
other stuff I know you like, so he got everything else from the attached general store. He was even able
to get the adobo and concentrated soy sauce for your roasts; unfortunately, they didn't have any wasabi,
curry powder, or hot sauce of any kind, much less your Cholula or Pete stuff in particular.”
“Pickled eggs?” Zelda asked, making it sound more like a counterargument than anything else.
Peach shrugged, “They'll travel better than omelettes.”
Zelda blinked. She has a point.
After they had all eaten – all but Sonic – Tails curled up on his bed next to Sonic, and Zelda lay down
on her stomach and lit another cigar. Ruru simply crossed her legs beneath herself and waited. They
all looked at Peach expectantly, their eyes wide open and hungry.
Peach rolled her eyes, turned down the lamp to set the mood, and settled into the bed with Zelda,
Zelda laying her head in Peach's lap. Absentmindedly, she licked the tip of her thumb and wiped some
stray crumbs and gravy from the corners of Zelda's mouth and chin as Tails came over and joined them.
“Thank you, mommy,” Zelda said with mild sarcasm. She hadn't actually minded it. To the
contrary, she found it kind of nice of Peach to have paid attention and taken the effort to do that. The
food also really helped a lot, and she was looking forward to the zombie bit coming up...
Peach continued the story from shortly after the point where she had left off. It was a dark and
stormy night, with Bearskin and Candida now holding a masquerade ball at the manor as a horde of
zombies made its way through the night woods toward the unsuspecting party guests and the young
housecarl who drew Bakeneko and Nekomata.
As she let the tale unfold, she looked down to find Zelda and Tails already entranced by the goings
on, their gazes miles away as the goings-on painted themselves across their minds' eyes. Even Ruru
was on the edge of her seat, listening.
This is going to be a long night...
Morning came slowly and late, thin blue-golden light creeping into the gray through thick cloud cover.
Huge puffed dust-bunnies of snow drifted slowly downward. The ground was blanketed two feet
deep with soft snow, a thin crust having formed just before dawn. It was a warm-cold outside. Dry,
and without a breath of wind. The crust-ice tacky to the touch. Smoke hung without vigor in the still
air above the buildings of the silent village, seemingly in hope of returning to bed. What few sounds
there were carried softly, as if through a layer of cotton.
Sonic awoke as the room brightened gradually, blurrily making out the cuckoo clock as reading
something-on-the-left thirty. Peach paused in her recounting of the details of the alien tripod-machines
with deadly heat rays and strange half-living mantis ships, subterranean prehistoric civilizations,
mutants from the future, and The Nameless Necromancer, to glance over to him, both Tails and Zelda
waiting to hear more.
She looked happy. Exhausted, but happy. More than that though, they all looked happy. As she sat
there, they were cuddled up against her, heads in her lap to either side, her arms reaching down to rest
on their shoulders as she spun her yarn. Ruru was leaned back against the warmth of the lamp,
nibbling away at something unidentifiable. There was a mess of snack remnants strewn about nearby,
evidencing several late raids of their stores like tidal marks.
It took a moment for Ruru to break from her reverie and realize that the story telling had paused.
Looking over to Sonic, she waved to him and called out “Ohayo!”
He took in the scene, cocked a brow, and promptly didn't say a word.
Huh; yeah, maybe we really are a family.
It was clear that nobody was going to slog anywhere that day, and they were all exhausted in any
event. They decided to stay at least until the weather shifted favorably.
“Ya wanna know some'n good, P?” Sonic asked over breakfast, “Lemme tell ya a story I got from my
grampa. Prob'ly the best advice I ever got, 'side from maybe the importance o' flossin'.
“One day, there's this bird freezin' ta death in the road, an' a peasant sticks it in a fresh pile o'
cowshit. Soon, the bird's warm and stuffin' its face on undigested seeds 'n' singin' its heart out, when
another peasant picks it up 'n' brings it home. Next thing ya know, wham, motherfucker's in the stew
pot fer dinner. Moral o' the story is, not everyone who gets y'inta shit is out ta get'cha, not everyone
who gets y'outta shit is yer friend – and when yer fat, dumb, 'n' happy, keep yer trap shut... just not too
quiet, or someone'll wonder.”
He gave her a broad smile with a quick wink as he basked in the warmth of the room with a full
belly.
“Last night – you guys came out of nowhere. How did you do that?”
“You'll learn, believe me. We can work on that next, if ya want. It's a mix o' hidin' in plain sight 'n'
blendin' inta the shadows, an' kinda pullin' yer chi in. No chi, no noise or sign o' life – even Ruru can
do it, like ya prob'ly noticed.”
As lunchtime reared its head, Sonic wheeled in a cart.

“I talked wit' the kitchen, got us some stuff. Turns out that scumbag in the woods was a real piece o'
fuckin' work. We did everyone a favor, and word's out on it. I don't think we're gonna have any prob'ms
here, an' I'm plannin' ta score us a bunch o' braunschweiger 'n' aspic before we leave – liverwurst with
anchovies thrown in – an' I'm lookin' forward ta how that comes out. I tried a sample an' yer gonna flip,
I shit'chu not.”
Laid out on the cart was a spread for salad, fondue, a huge tureen of clam chowder, a tray of liver
sautéed in a red wine base, and a baker's dozen of large baked potatoes with numerous containers of
toppings. He nattered on as everyone joined in to help him set the table.
“Potatoes, onions, cheese: these basics'll get'cha by when shit hits the fan. The chowder's freshwater,
from the lake, but that'll work – the kitchen made it, but I had 'em throw in some a ndouille an' filé.
Now, the fondue should be good on the heat ducts, accordin' ta the staff, but we'll see. I'm'a introduce
ya ta some Balsamic vinaigrette fer some good salad, an' tomatoes Caprese done right – 'cept that it'll
hafta be rock salt 'steada sea salt. Turns out they got a greenhouse on the south wall o' the joint; most
places here do.
“Now, Caprese ain't a freakin' salad, it's a side dish. Y'can make do just fine wit' provolone, but we
lucked out in that they had mozzarella, an' my happy ass snagged us the last of it, so we're good ta go.
Plus, they don't use nut'n but the good olive oil here – first cold pressed extra virgin – so we're really in
luck.
“The potatoes I did myself, all soaked in garlic butter 'n' coarse salt, an' roasted up nice 'n' crisp-like,
but they're fer later. Right now, dig inta the liver while it's still nice 'n' moist, or don't gimme any shit if
you wait 'til it's dried out like the leathery garbage most people make – though I got us some o' the fried
shit, too, fer samwiches later. Middle o' winter, man. We can all of us use the vitamins.
“That, plus they said they ain't had much luck lately wit' game. Like the deer 'n' everything went an'
headed south fer the winter – back in summer. Guess we got a bad one comin' up.”
As it turned out, they stayed at the inn for a week and made a holiday of it, celebrating Peach's
nineteenth birthday, though the first day was mostly laid back and full of food and naps after a long
night of zombie stories – and each evening ended with the others entreating her for more stories, with
which she happily obliged them. Escaping a recent upsurge of the undead and harried by Lizardmen,
Peach's characters had sought refuge in a keep on the borderlands; Candida now faced a minor Demon
holding her beloved ransom to her behavior as she told tales within tales to turn his attention from her
use as a vessel to produce a Cambion for the reunification of all evils. They were freed from the
Demon's clutches by a Kodama who was moved by Candida's plight. The Kodama had strayed from its
nearby tree to listen to her stories and seen how the engaged the Demon had become with them. To
leave would surely mean her end, and so the Kodama had entered into a contest with her, telling fables
of the woodland creatures, each fable leading to the next. So impressed with these was the Demon that
he dismissed both Candida and her love to better attend the intricacies that the Kodama spun.
As Peach bathed that evening, Zelda gathered the others in order to sort out their plans for the next
day. Not long after they'd finished this, Peach returned to their room. Short too-small terrycloth robe,
hair in a towel, and she smells of strawberry shampoo, baby powder, and coconut oil. And
honeysuckle. All smiles and perkiness. I swear she does this intentionally, just to torment me. Peach
picked up a small pale-carnation pink bottle and sat at the edge of the bed, a clean musk permeating the
area. Oh great, now she's gonna do her nails right next to me – wearing just that? Nayru, give me
strength...
“Entschuldige – you say five pounds bacon, ja? Is nicht five orders?” the waitress was clearly startled
by their request.
“Damn' skippy! Our girl here, it's her birthday, an' she likes her bacon, even fer dinner. Hell, we all
do, so we're makin' a bacon-party of it,” Sonic double-clicked his tongue as he beamed a smiling reply.
Zelda rolled her eyes at him, “ 'Makin' bacon?' You seriously did not just say that, did you?”
“What?” Sonic asked innocently, “She's cute. Like you wouldn't?”
Lurga. Drow-black skin, auburn hair, Dwarven nose and stature, Human ears and proportions, perky
smile, and a natural salty-spicy-granite body-scent; none of them was quite certain of what she was, but
Sonic was right, she was cute.
Zelda's face tried to respond in three different ways at once, and failed epically at each.
Peach giggled at this. Lurga smiled, partly professionally, partly provocatively, her hip brushing
Zelda's thigh slowly as she turned to put in their orders.
Covering as well as she could, Zelda caught the waitress before she left, adding “Und eine große
kirsch cola,” pointing back and forth to herself and Peach, “mit zwei Strohhalme.”
Picking up on the implication, the waitress concealed her disappointed response with a nod, her eye
lingering upon Peach in envy of Zelda's favor.
=====
“She wouldn't have lasted twenty seconds,” Zelda snorted, “thirty maybe, if they were cautious.”
“Yeah,” Sonic agreed, “but she didn't hesitate at all. She jumped right on in ta save yer ass, an' that's
all that was on 'er mind. She acted on gut instinct, an' wit' some serious ferocity there. The girl's got
real fuckin' chutzpah.”
Zelda looked around suddenly, a bristling protective menace to her air, Peach having disappeared
around a bookcase.
For a while now, she'd been noticing whenever Peach wasn't around, and Sonic smiled to himself,
having noticed her noticing. She was getting used to having her there.
From halfway along the front window came a song from the jukebox-device. He didn't pay it much
attention at first, but then the lyrics began to filter in.
“...'cause I am the man who will fight for your honor,

I'll be the hero that you're dreamin' of,
gonna live forever,
knowin' together,
that we did it all for the glory of love...”
Hell of a coinci...dence – oh, hell no.

He glanced casually in that direction and found Ruru standing around studying the wall calendars
innocently. Very innocently.
Peach was browsing books, too engrossed in their stock to pay any heed to the conversation, and
Zelda hadn't yet picked up on the music.
In the end, Peach left with a prize that left her grinning with anticipation. A thick and densely
packed three-volume work on the history and philosophy of mathematics. Tails got a few thin
textbooks on physics, chemistry, and the various magics (to include alchemy).
The rest of the day went by in a blur for Peach. All you can eat pizza, a greenhouse of exotic plants, an
afternoon showing of The Phantom of the Opera at the small community playhouse left her crying
(Ruru crying a bit too, pretending not to, and asking Peach “Daijōbu desu ka? Daijōb'–?”), then dinner
at the inn (kielbasa and garlic noodles, grape nut bread, pumpkin soup, ham-swiss-mushroom casserole
– and another large order of bacon).
As orders were placed, Ruru waited; as other tables were served, Ruru waited; when their own food
finally arrived, Ruru waited no more, exclaiming “Ora, niku! Itadakimasu!” immediately, as if issuing a
challenge to her plate, and descending upon her dinner with unrivaled zeal.
Once again, Peach sat in Zelda's lap. Zelda, for her part, kept her arm around Peach's waist,
sometimes sending chills through Peach's spine by placing her hand to the small of her back, heat
coursing through Peach as Zelda placed her other hand on her thigh with the occasional squeeze. Every
so often, her hand slid down Peach's waist to rest on her cheek and give it an extended palping. Every
time that this happened, Peach's face became flame red, at which Zelda simply grinned and carried on
as if nothing were amiss.
When the cherry cheesecake was brought out, Peach lost it again, crying with happiness, and the
presents only made that worse.
“When did you guys find the time for all of this?” Peach asked, smiling as she reached for another
napkin, the last of her tears trickling down her cheeks.
“It's your birthday, Princess, or it was a few days ago,” Zelda said softly, amending this with a gruff
“Besides, I owe you for the other night, and I'll not be beholden to anyone.”
It didn't escape Peach's notice – or Sonic's – that the way that Zelda had said Princess held its own
softness this time. Something had shifted. No longer a questionable epithet, it was more personal,
more of an actual name now.
“Congrats, man,” Sonic told her, “you're officially our FNG.”
“F-N-G?” Peach asked.
He smiled and gave her a wink, “Fuckin' New Guy,” then gave her a cheerful nod.
Tails bounced in his seat, “C'mon! Open your presents!”
Peach smiled and reached for his first. It was two pairs of nunchaku. They were made of a
lightweight metal, with a mottled pattern of bland colors across their anodized surfaces, even along the
chains in the middle. With radial ribbing, octagonal facing, and tiny studding at the ribs' corners, they
presented a pleasing texture to both the eye and the hand.
“I made sure that they had universal joints and spinners, and if you push and twist any of the chain
heads, it'll pop out and reel out a garrote. They even have an automatic rewind! I couldn't find any
karatand though, so those'll have to wait. I'm sorry.”
“Ohh – thank you, Tails! Don't worry about it, I'm just happy that you're here!” Peach bubbled as
she kissed him, clearly happy with his murderous choice. Tails was all smiles at this, both of his tails
twitching in satisfaction.
Sonic pushed his own package toward her. It was small, but he had a look that said that she'd like it.
He wasn't wrong. A matched pair of sooted butterfly knives.
“I think they're a half-gram heavy at the back-end, but we can fix that. Once ya get a handle on 'em
all, you'll find the knives 'n' 'chucks move a lot alike. Same basic practice motions, similar tricks.”
Peach didn't know what to say. She just smiled, her chin and lower lip trembling.
“Oi, minna, umai desu, ne?” Ruru gushed, her voice piping up from behind a slowly disappearing
mound of bacon, a plate of reddish-golden-brown curry glop over a sizzling pork-and-beef 'burger with
sautéed onions, and a side of ketchup-slathered omurice with cheese still awaiting her appetite. “Now
the Ruru!”
Sonic glanced at her plate, “Y'know, I still think ya shoulda gone with the demi-glace au boeuf an' a
drizzle o' Mornay...”
Ruru made a face at him and watched Peach unwrap her present.
It was a makeup kit almost the size of a fishing tackle box, before unrolling it. It could be folded
and furled and tied around the waist or elsewhere by apron strings, with a good number of fascinating
items and materials within that she'd never seen before.
“It is for costumes and it is for acting! That is Ruru's purezento,” Ruru proclaimed, “You can now
become anyone in a flash. You will blend in or stand out, however you please. There is cork and
matches, glue, and many other strange extra things in there! Oh, and there is also a Leatherman!”
“Ahh, and that's why you were covered in talc earlier?”
“Ruru has no idea what you are talking about. Ruru has never been covered in talc! Baka
purinsesu!”
Peach could hardly give the diminutive Kaijin a proper hug, but she did her best.
“Hmm, mo futatsu oppai, o kudasai? Toriaezu, kore kudasai, hina!” Ruru giggled up at her happily.
Peach wasn't entirely certain of what Ruru had just said, but she had a sneaking suspicion that it was
embarrassing. This wasn't helped in the least by the direction of Ruru's gaze.
Reaching Zelda at last, she opened yet another small package. A pair of peened brass knuckles, with
interior suede padding.
“Happy birthday, Princess,” Zelda told her, and kissed her cheek.
Peach melted.
“And this one is from all of us,” Zelda said as she pulled away.
There was a cord on the table in front of Peach. Very supple nylon, about four feet long, small
bulges every few inches, with decorative weights at the ends. It was beautiful.
“It's a Monkey Fist. You can wear it as a belt, and always have a weapon to hand.”
“Wait! Where am I going to put all of these?” Peach asked in sudden concern.
“A'ready taken care of,” Sonic said, “Tails sewed a few new spaces inta yer outfit earlier. Yer good
to go.”
Ruru smiled broadly at that, holding up a particularly large piece of bacon and proclaiming
“Nakama!”
“One last thing,” Zelda said, holding up a tube.

Peach wasn't sure what she was looking at. It resembled a finger-cuff of rather large girth, with a
trumpet flare at one end and a pair of dangling antennae at the other.
“Don't put your fingers into it. It's a device that stabs barbed nettles into anything within it, and the
nettles inject gympie-gympie toxin. I had some extra on me and wasn't putting it to any other use, so...
In any event, it's not lethal – at least not directly so, since it wouldn't surprise me if it led directly to
suicide soon thereafter. Call it a special surprise present for anyone who tries to get too friendly with
you,” Zelda's smile was cold, with an almost evil relish to it.
Sonic's face was a rictus of empathetic pain.
“How do I use it?” Peach asked.
“No worries. It expands as needed, recocks automatically, and carries ten doses of toxin before
needing a refill, twenty for the nettles. I'll show you how to put it in later.”
“...into what?”
Before Zelda could reply, the singer on the stage began an announcement. It was Dodongos Ate My
Baby again. They had been setting up for the evening, but were apparently ready to begin the gig.
“Attention all, please. Today we learn new song, for birthday girl. Please, all quiet for song.”
Peach's eyes widened and her jaw went slack as the room darkened and several soft lights centered
on her, the band launching into a fast-pounding drumbeat and screaming riffs.
“Gabba-gabba, we accept you, we accept you, one of us;

gabba-gabba, we accept you, we accept you, one of us...”
Peach's tears were back in force throughout the song.
“So, I don't get it. Are they dating or not, already?” Tails asked in pent up exasperation.
Sonic squinted and sighed. “Ehh... Yeah. No. 'scomplicated,” he bobbed his head around and
wiggled his fingers in a yes-no fashion, “let's just say yeah-sorta. 'sclose enough. They're... negotiatin'
things.”
“I wish they'd just figure it out already and get it over with. They like each other, right? So what's
the big deal?”
Sonic grinned wryly and tousled his hair, “Yeah... nobody's figured that one out yet, dude. Sixty-four
thousan' dolla' question.”
Please, he thought, just get outta yer own fuckin' way fer once, Z , an' look at what's right in front o'
yer face.
“Since when do furballs give a shit about beds?” Zelda demanded in frustration.
“Since there's a roof 'n' a decent fuckin' mattress worth a shit, fer a change. Now shush, people are
tryna' sleep here,” Sonic replied.
“Yeah? Really? So I'd faecking noticed. I still need someplace to sleep that isn't the floor,” she
pointed out.
“Count the beds; ya got room. Sleepin' Beauty over there don't take up much space.”
Zelda hesitated, sighed, and got under the covers next to Peach. As she did, Tails opened an eye and
Sonic just smiled and wiggled his eyebrows, then gave him a wink. Tails smiled happily with a sharp
nod, and curled back up to sleep.
Zelda's cover-rearranging roused Peach just enough to roll over, lift her head, and sleep-murmur
“Mmm, hey there gorgeous.”
She smiled as she collapsed back to the pillow and kissed Zelda's shoulder, only to nuzzle into the
crook of Zelda's neck. Throwing her arm over Zelda's chest to hold her breast, she resumed the sleep-
cooing that she made whenever they were together.
Zelda just lay there, staring into the darkness, unsure of what to do about it all.
=====
The next day, Sonic had a cauldron of grape nut porridge ready before anyone else had awoken.
“Made it wit' sweetened condensed milk an' a bit o' light brown sugar for flavor. I also threw in
some raisins 'n' blueberries, an' banana slices. 'sgood fer a nasty, cold, wet, blustery day like today's
shapin' up ta be.”
He and Tails gave the sauna a pass as the girls headed out.
“Look Princess, I'm just saying that you should be betrothed to someone by now, maybe giving him big
fat babies already.”
“You're not, and you're half again my age.”
“Yeah... I'm into chicks, honey,” Zelda shrugged, “not dicks.”
Please don't give me the puppy-dog eyes. Oh, crap. No, no, no, Zelda hoped, Oh la... putain de
merde! She's giving me the puppy-dog eyes.
I'm into you, Peach thought dolorously, Doesn't that mean anything?
“Well, O.K., but I mean... you're still not married.”
Zelda froze, her face stiff and vacant.
“Oh my Stars – Sonic! Tails!” Peach screamed.
Zelda blinked and breathed, “I'm fine. Don't worry about it.”
Ruru rolled her eyes and adjusted the hand towel that she had wrapped around herself.
“Baka. Baka, baka, ba-ka...!” she scolded, hovering between their heads and pounding them each
rapidly. Her strikes caused no pain, but were no less demonstrative for that.
Zelda sighed internally as she watched Peach's hair shorn down.

Her reasoning to do so is sound, but I'm still gonna miss it... Ugh, Goddesses, what am I thinking?
Fie! I care not what this girl does! Let her do as she wishes and have done with it; 'tis no concern of
mine.
Peach had decided earlier that her hair was impractical for fighting, and discussed it with her. Zelda
hadn't tried to dissuade her of her decision, had even agreed with her reasoning, but that made it no less
of a loss.
=====
“Va bene! Excellent use o' spinnin' elbows, an' yer osotogari is good, keep workin' on it – an' your uchi
mata – don't stop. Yer follow through is O.K., but the kesa-gatami needs work; it's still too slow 'n'
sloppy, an' way too fuckin' loose. I can hook yer legs way the hell too easy, an' ferget the other escapes.
Work yer grips, too, just remember that any time ya grip me, I got a grip on you.”
A month had come and gone, and Peach seemed to be catching on quickly to fighting. She'd
progressed easily though the basics of stances and striking techniques, and had an incredibly intuitive
grasp of the necessary motions. She didn't present any reticence at full-contact now, and had turned out
to be a natural low-fighter, though she still preferred some distance. After some initial balking at
holding knives reversed, her stance had adjusted and it now came naturally to her – enough that she
sometimes had to remind herself to hold them forward for cooking and eating purposes. Her staff
fighting was still awkward, but she'd taken to the nunchaku and butterfly knives like a fish to water.
She was good with tonfa, and decent with kusarigama, but she kept shying away from full commitment
with it; that could pose a problem when they got to swords and polearms.
Sonic was pleased with her progress, overall, and hoped to advance her to three piece staff soon.
Even with that in mind though, he'd felt the group dynamic change more than he'd expected. They
were calmer, more focused. Grounded. She brought something to the table that they hadn't realized
they'd needed.
Zelda was still on edge, waiting for some mishap to overtake her, or for more predators to strike
when nobody was about. She took to accompanying Peach everywhere, a looming, brooding presence
even when only trees were the greatest threat – after all, it's dangerous to go alone.
After the immediate escape and more leisurely general travel, and now with so much to learn, it had
yet to occur to Peach to wonder what ultimate destination they were headed toward.
Yule5 morning.
The new year met them on the east face of the peak of Mount Dagurashibanipal 6, named for a
legendary dragon. They sat and watched together as the sun rose, enjoying the beauty and simplicity,
hot tea filling them with warmth, sharing the moment. The altocumulus clouds below them were like a
tranquil sea of mist, lapping and undulating at a scale that no sea of water could match. The sky above
them was clear for now, miles from any weather, only the cirrostratus wisps present in any number.
Peach's mind wandered across the beauty of the atmospheric boundary layers.
An ice storm had hit several days earlier, and so they remained encamped here for the moment.
There was a serene beauty to it all. The air was quiet, aside from faint reports of hemlock trees
shattering in the cold.
Sonic was reflecting on Peach's progress. Her chi strikes are act'chly beginnin' ta hurt a bit. Not
much more'n bee stings really, but more'n enough ta cause someone some serious damage. Good.
Damn' good – though we're gonna hafta step up her shiatsu a bunch, in case she needs ta fix any little
accidents.
Ruru floated in quickly from some nearby trees, wearing a smug look as she held a sprig of
mistletoe over Zelda. Catching Peach's hopeful look, Zelda set aside her stuffed ham hock un schnitz
as she finished chewing. She had to admit that Peach's meats really were pretty decent.
“You keep that up, lass, and I'll ply you with plum wine and have my way with you!”
Peach's eye went wide at this, her sudden intake audible to all.
“O.K.!” she squeaked breathlessly, looking upward with her head tucked down innocently, leaning
forward some and squeezing her shoulders inward just a bit.
Her gaze drawn downward unexpectedly, Zelda's eyes fixed on Peach's chest, and her breathing
shallowed as she felt her pulse quicken. Her voice thickened.
“Ahh, well, maybe we'll just stick tae the plum wine for now, then, shall we?”
Peach smiled and blushed, but moved impulsively to give Zelda a quick peck on her cheek just as
dawn, robed in a flash of saffron, cracked the horizon, lingering a hair longer than convention required,
her lips brushing slowly across Zelda's as she pulled her head back.
5 Yule: Yule in Light World is the day of winter solstice itself.
Nayrufest begins a week before the winter solstice and ends a week after it. The three holy days of Nayru are the solstice and the
single day each immediately before and after it, the middle being the fertility day.
Yule also holds significance for the star system of Sarasaland and the Mushroom Kingdom, though that's complicated with epicycles
of the shifting thirteenth constellation, but essentially centers on four houses balancing the forces, with each year being given a
dominant house and the rest sharing two sets each of six permutations spread across the warm months and the cold months.
6 Mount Dagurashibanipal: rumors abound of strange creatures and people all around the area, some claiming that the entire region is
haunted, others stating outright that it stands as a weak point between the worlds.
Zelda's heart jumped.

Nayru, I can taste her lips, I'm breathing her very breaths...
For a long moment, she struggled against the urge to lean in, to embrace the moment and return the
kiss, to pull Peach to her at last and touch her hair, gaze deeply into her eyes.
“Happy 6560!” Peach whispered, less than an inch away.
Zelda was stunned, her eyes flitting about. The warmth of Peach's presence so intimately near was
so unlike that of merely sitting together companionably. Peach's lips, slightly open, let her breath wash
over Zelda's face warm and pleasing. So close...
Peach drew away again, though not so quickly as to seem offended; indeed, if anything, she'd pulled
away so slowly as to be tantalizing, and seemed to be more pleased than anything else with Zelda's
response.
Her lips were so soft. I can still feel her sweet breath on me. I could return that kiss, even now – oh
Goddesses, how I so ache to – but to do so would mean... what? For that matter, what might such
betide? The risk is ever too great.
Ruru smiled with self satisfaction, and hummed to herself as she wove the sprig into Peach's hair.
“Next year, in Hyrule, no?” Sonic toasted, raising his wineskin.
Later, as they whiled away the evening, Peach looked up from her ozōni soup and smiled. They
were all together and happy. The air held a cool, crisp pine scent, their bellies were full, and they were
contentedly enjoying the flow of conversation (Tails splitting his attention with a question of quantum
net spin and total angular momentum that he'd been pursuing lately), with one of Zelda's cigars lending
a warm sweetness to it all.
That night, Peach's ongoing tale of Bearskin and Candida had them deep in a desert expedition in
which they discovered a cave of wonders; trapped there by a sorcerer, they found a wardrobe that was
much larger within than without. They had stepped into it, only to be whisked away to a world of
strange magics under foreign stars. Caught up soon in the quelling of a usurpation of the Tin Men's
kingdom by the evil Rat King, their ship floundered in a storm, the morning finding them adrift and
bereft of direction or support. Hours passed before they'd spotted any possible hope – what appeared to
be a floating island of plant life, its form changing to match the waves that bore it. Once again, the tide
of their fortunes turned, and they were befriended by the creatures who lived there, who were in turn
besieged by a mysterious mechanical monster plaguing their waters.
Looking around, Peach found everyone lulled to sleep.
Banking the fire carefully, she brought out some blankets and tucked everyone in, cozying up to
Zelda at the last, their feather duvet almost unneeded in the still night air.
=====
A second ice storm caught them in the saddle to the next mountain.
It began with a simple freezing rain, but then the moisture dropped off as the temperature fell away.
At this point, Sonic handed out little pots of rendered fat to smear across any skin that was open to the
air. He chuckled at Peach as she blew an index fore-knuckle snot rocket – she'd shown herself to be
extremely pragmatic, picking up distasteful tools when they proved themselves useful and necessary.
He had hoped to make it to the lee of the saddle ahead of the weather, and they did, but only barely
before the wind kicked up and the intermittent spritz was joined by pellets of hail. He'd removed
Epona's shoe-studs the other day, in anticipation of further ice storms. Her shoes were aluminum rims
with borium, so he wasn't too worried for now, but she wouldn't be able to go far in this storm even if
they wished to try.
Finding a decent campsite didn't take long. A curve of rock face deflected most of the wind from a
tiny vale, and the trees were thick there. Hurrying in, they tethered her beneath a huge fir next to an
overhang, the area thick with soft humus. There was a small, frozen pond nearby, around which the
withered ends of water plants sprouted in thick tufts, ensuring that she had plenty to eat. They threw
together an improvised stable from fallen limbs with the needles still fresh; this wouldn't have sufficed
alone, but with the rock shelter and thick underbrush surrounding it, as well as the rich canopy, it was
surprisingly cozy, if somewhat gloomy, enough that Sonic removed her blanket for the evening.
Three inches of glass-like ice accumulated beyond their burrow within the first hour as they cooked
lunch. They'd stripped some inner bark and pine nuts and needles to make a simple soup, tossing in
some scraps of squirrel from yesterday's dinner and a few handfuls of acorns. By the time that they had
eaten, the wind had shifted enough that their campfire was no longer viable.
Zelda entered her tent, and after a few moments a strange light-but-dark violet glow lit it briefly
from within. As the others entered it, they found it warm and inviting, particularly as the wind died
down and the patter of sleet increased, punctuated by occasional thunder-cracks of exploding oaks.
Sonic tilted his head toward the outside as he came in, grumbling something to himself about “...Snow
Miser...” and “...peppermint patties, my ass...”
The lean-to that they had put up within a fallen tree's crown was reasonably sound and spacious, but
her tent was greatly appreciated. It was one of the rare times that Sonic or Tails ever sought to sleep
within, but it was for just such times that she'd invested in it – it had the capability of expanding to
accommodate four people in a pinch.
As the afternoon turned to evening, and evening to night, more ice accumulated across the limbs and
branches above the tent. Soon there was enough cover that the sheeting barred most of the weather and
further insulated them within an igloo-like shell. Sonic took this as an opportunity to bend Peach's ear
about digging into snowbanks for shelter with an upwardly sloping entrance, and poking a thin
ventilation shaft. This went on to a tangent about sand dunes, with an anchored sheet for cover.
=====
Peach's training went on, and Zelda found her turning into a worthy opponent – not as yet her own
level by a wide margin, but spirited and talented. She could fight well, and had a tenacity about her
that bespake her determination. Zelda had to clamp down on her idle thoughts at times, lest they
wander into unsafe territory. Peach's skill demanded some respect, but that very fact sparked a lust
within her that she wanted no part of, no matter how much she yearned for it. Their sparring sessions
were grueling in more than one respect, and time served only to stoke this sway that Peach held over
her.
The sweat running down her limbs and torso, her waist especially, her natural scent everywhere and
enhanced with fight-scent.
For her own part, Peach was focused narrowly on her training, learning whatever she could and
quickly adding it to her skill set. That didn't stop her thoughts from straying though. She multitasked
easily, and so her mind was often on domestic vacation – baking something for Zelda, snuggling
together someplace private, or just basking in her attention.
That aside though, she'd progressed well from kibon to taegeuk. They felt so very similar to her, but
she certainly preferred the latter; something about them felt more focused upon the target, rather than
upon the familiarizing practice of muscle memory in itself.
=====
The world was empty. Completely desolate. A vast wasteland of dust, its surface speckled with the
rare intact structure.
Scattered survivors banded together, on the run from zombie hordes, and always in search of food
themselves. There was no panic over it. Zombies were a nice, simple threat, easily dealt with.
They were running now, desperate to take shelter before the pursuing horde overtook them.
Just another day in Paradise.
They made it, and secured the breach before the first shambling things reached them.
Barely.
Looking out, Zelda could see the oncoming storm bearing down on them, right on the heels of their
hard-won safety.
It didn't matter.
It never mattered.
The sky fell down, a black acid rain dissolving whatever it touched as a funnel dropped from a vast
wall cloud, meteorites beginning to pelt the land.
The ground trembled, opening beneath them for a moment, before all and sundry were swept up in
the storm's wake.
Peach awoke to the sweet tea-like scent of a cigar.

It was still completely dark out, the only light a dim glow from their lantern.
Zelda shushed her to go back to sleep, but she sat up instead.
“Night terrors?”
She hardly needed to ask, especially with Zelda's pillow still visibly sodden, even now.
Instead of answering, Zelda simply held a deep lungful of smoke before exhaling. Her eyes were
pinched and dry, as if utterly drained and yet not collapsed. Two cigar roaches bore mute testimony to
this conclusion.
“Moonlight before my bed,

perhaps frost on the ground.
Lift my head and see the moon,
lower my head and pine for home.”
“It's bittersweet, but beautiful. Who wrote it?”

Zelda stared on a moment longer before answering.
“Li Po. A poet long, long ago. Aye, and it's not so much the demons without as those within, the
parasites that feed on us – not even what haunts us, but the lure of a fantasy world as it sinks its tendrils
into us, ephemeral as the dry leaves of Faerie food...
“No single thing abides, but all things flow.

Fragment to fragment clings, the things thus grow,
until we know and name them.
By degrees they melt,
and are no more the things we know.
“That one's Lucretius, a poet-philosopher who lived even further back.”

Peach retrieved a few pint bottles of Guinness and stayed up with Zelda 'til dawn, sometimes
talking, but mostly just being there. Between the double stout and the smokey haze from Zelda's
cigars, her head was full of cotton, but it all lent a warmth that made the tent cozy for both of them.
Zelda's thoughts waxed morose, but no longer alone.
When you were here before,

couldn't look you in the eye;
you're just like an angel,
your skin makes me cry;
you float like a feather

in a beautiful world,
and I wish I was special
– you're so fuckin' special,
but I'm a creep,

I'm a weirdo,
– what the hell am I doing here?
I don't belong here...
Dawn saw Zelda leaning back against Peach, nodding off in turns with her head against Peach's
shoulder, starting awake less frequently, Peach just holding her and letting her thoughts drift.
Peach's mind was still wandering peacefully when the sun had reached a full hand span above the
horizon and Sonic tapped gently at the tent flap. When he poked his head in, he nodded quietly and
returned with a large, steaming bowl of moussaká and a hot pot of strong yak butter tea. She thanked
him, and he sat with her for a while as she ate.
=====
Their route began to take a slightly more southerly direction, curving around the northeastern corner of
the perpetually shadowed Koopa Kingdom. The continual veils of grayish-yellowish tan-talcum dust
storms lowing softly to the north began to give way to a succession of ever-lower mountains and a
green-gray haze along the east. Soon they could make out vast billowing masses that looked like
clouds, though their colors were wrong, and they never moved nor changed shape. Between them all
seemed to move slow streams of mist. All of this went on for miles, as far as the eye could see from
even this height, with air so clean as to be nearly crystal clear.
As they moved more southerly, the cloud-things began to show the odd bit of deep greenish
darkness, and areas of pale yellowish-green.
Staring out across it all as they made camp one evening, Peach finally realized what she'd been
seeing for the past several hundred miles.
“Oh my Stars, that's... Schöndunkelundtief Forest7! All of it is. It has been for weeks now! How big
are those trees, anyway?”
Zelda licked her lips.
“You see those huge dunes?”
Peach nodded.
“How wide do you think they are?”
Peach made a few odd faces as she bobbed her head around for different views before giving up.
“They're farther away than you think. They're mostly five to ten miles across, and they're not dunes
– they're mushrooms. Those big dark areas of green are trees – individual trees. The lighter areas that
sort of shimmer when you focus on them are ferns and bamboo. All along the north and east are
succulents. The southern end has diverse man-eaters. Deep within the heart of the forest are molds and
such of the same scale. Some of the plants are even silicon based, and others are even stranger, though
you'll want Tails for details of that. The whole place is a Faerie forest the likes of which beggar the
imagination, wherein yōkai abound, and we've traveled only half of its western border.”
They made their way almost directly southeast now, and the time passed both slowly and quickly as
Sonic continued to mentor Peach in a wide spread of fighting styles, rope binding, escape techniques,
lock picking and bumping, disguises, scaling and rappelling, basic encryption, basic and abnormal
psychology, destabilization and fnords, reconnaissance, survival, escape, evasion, interrogation and
resistance, infiltration and exfiltration, tracking, emergency responses, and so much more. At the same
time, she was included in every aspect of preparing every meal; she learned the mother sauces, the holy
trinity in its various forms, the careful selection of just the right bouquet garni and herbes de Provence,
the pairing of wines or other beverages with the dishes, the alternation of sweet with savory, the proper
sequences of courses.
Any given day saw her dealing with daily life blindfolded, weights on her feet, her hands chained to
her waist, and under other hobbling conditions. She spent a week deafened with cheese in her ears.
Through all of this, both before and after every meal, she spent grueling hours barefoot, hammering
boards with palm-heel strikes, hammer fists and back-hand punches, her forearms and elbows, calves
and thighs, driving her knife hands and half-fists into cookware filled with grains and pebbles, rotating
through calculated strikes with her wrists bound close, snuffing Ruru's illusory candles from increasing
distances with only the projected force of her would-be strikes, and moving slowly through or
maintaining a multitude of awkward positions.
Slowly her striking surfaces toughened, her core and grip strengthened, her reflex times plummeted,
her atemi grew more penetrating and she channeled chi with greater focus. She honed her foraging
skills, her plant identification and uses, spotting animal trails and nesting areas. Her cooking improved.
Tails tutored her in math, categorical logic, physics, chemistry, general principles of mechanics and
7 Schöndunkelundtief Forest: picture Grimm's fairy tales, Mirkwood of “The Hobbit”, Bloomenveld of Norman Spinrad's “Child of
Fortune”, and the Eddings' Nyissa / a haunted Marag city draped with greenery [i.e.: hints of lost Erat] / Tolnedran Dryads, all
wrapped into an area where the trees really are the size of mountains.
electronics, medicine and sewing, self-aid / buddy care, botany, anatomy, the principles of astronomy,
and some limited magics. Their discussions of electronic warfare fascinated her, especially the
applications to difference engines and calculating machines, even though they did little good without
any systems available to them, and often digressed to considerations of cellular automata rule sets in
various grids and neighborhoods, busy beavers, Langton ants, spatialized and iterated variations on the
Prisoner's Dilemma and related equilibria, and so forth (all of which bogged down badly when they
strayed into the question of applying them within aperiodic Penrose tilings and Voronoi diagrams and
populations with mixed rule-sets, at which point Sonic had interjected one of his cryptic remarks “Ahh,
The Truth About Kites and Darts...”, to which Tails had nodded quite seriously and quite evidently
missed the fact of the missed allusion, which left Peach even more mystified). He also covered
psychology, though from a more therapeutic perspective, less analytical and leverage-oriented than
Sonic's. He was a little less forthcoming with physics and chemistry than the rest of it, but Peach didn't
mind or pay it much heed.
Zelda pitched in periodically with all of this, throwing in bits about navigation, languages, playing
card games, cheating at card games, reading people, various gambling odds, picking pockets, shop
lifting, concealing items. Once Peach had some training under her belt, Zelda even began to teach her
how to throw knives. It turned out that she knew a lot of dirty tricks.
Ruru kibitzed everything, offering all kinds of hints and suggestions and opinions, though having no
clue about most of it, and generally being no help at all, but making for a fun time at every turn.
It wasn't all one sided though – or four sided. Peach talked about politics and exchange rates from
her own tutelage, supplied them with a wealth of history and legends that Zelda had forgotten, social
traditions to ease discussions, weird little connections of one invention or discovery leading to another
in entirely unrelated fields (the first time that Sonic heard her mention this, he had asked about weaving
looms and computing machines; he wasn't at all surprised when she nodded and went on about lateen
sails and canned goods).
Fishing with poles and nets and spears and bows and traps (the ideas of lobster traps in the current
for fish and luring fish into pool skimmers were novel and enthralling to her, and although beheading
them behind the gills and gutting them from tail to neck made her feel sorry for them [not that she was
terribly fond of killing or mutilating plants or fungi, either], she found the process of filleting down the
spine after cooking them to be a fine art), hunting, tracking, trapping 8, learning all about crossbows –
breathe, aim, slack, squeeze (and she loved the ghillie suit, not to mention Sonic's odd introduction of
“Say hullo ta my little friend...”, though the “sweet spot” just below the nose disturbed her quite a bit).
For months now, it had been like a vacation, a boisterous holiday celebration get-together, a dream, and
years of schooling all packed together. She soaked it all up, hungry for more.
At one point, Sonic showed Peach her name: his left hand balled up similar to a hammer fist, then
brushed his right hand across the top as if petting something fuzzy – such as a peach. Peach was
thrilled to see her own name come to life, understanding it immediately and showing it to everyone in
excitement, rapidly picking up a lot more sign. Tails was surprisingly talkative in sign, and her eyes lit
up upon seeing “good morning,” and “good night.” She soon learned to sign “O” and “K,” “I want,”
“book,” “sleep,” “food,” “I think,” “I know,” “I forget,” “thank you,” “sorry,” the differences in colors
such as light and dark blue, the structural simplicity of the grammar in contrast to that of spoken
Common. It wasn't long at all before she also learned “fuck you” and “bored,” both of which saw her
eyes go wide and her cheeks redden.
That same evening she signed her first word-play.
8 Trapping: that can even extend to trapping fish in a pit
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6n95QvoM2DA&list=PLzdQ9vN7FdPZjyGGlpnZzCvvsOH0-tlgA&t=2s&index=32
Reaching for more mofongo and pheasant meat, Ruru offered her some gizzards.
Giving Ruru a look that showed her opinion of that thought, Peach held up her hand in a curled “G,”
cocking her brow in question and nodding to the gizzards, then brought that same “G” next to her
temple and gave it a sharp forward-twist to reply “crazy,” and helped herself to the liver as Ruru
laughed.
At another point, Sonic approached her with a glint in his eye, and a grin that promised some
deviltry.
“C'mon, P, me 'n' Tails got some shit ta show ya. You'll prob'ly like it – things that make ya go
boom!”
After a hundred paces or so, they reached a clearing. Tails was fiddling with materials that were set
out on a large, flat rock.
She drew her eyes across them, identifying everything with ease, unable to imagine how they related
to one another: copper tubes and wires, magnets, batteries, steel wool, nail polish remover, ammonia,
iodine, cheesecloth, sheets of paper, duct tape, sugar, peroxide, a bucket of night soil, a bag each of
charcoal and fertilizer, some wristwatches, bleach, aluminum foil, magnesium...
Well, at least I know what they got during their oh-so-secret surprise shopping trip to the Koopa
village.
Sonic nudged her elbow and gave her a wink.
“After this, ya graduate ta toxins an' venoms. Then I'll show ya how ta fish the easy way with the
products of our current lesson, an' with the leftover charcoal, I'll teach ya how ta make soap 'n'
lutefisk!”
It was an hour before her ears ceased their ringing. The small balloons of hydrogen and oxygen that
Tails had gathered from the electrolysis setup had amazed her, but the demonstrations of fuel-air
explosives from simple powders or flammable fluids had shaken her bones even at twenty paces. She'd
remember for sure to keep her mouth open and cover her ears in the future. The concept of shaped
charges fascinated her, and she looked forward to that with eager anticipation.
Zelda and Ruru came by with snacks after that, having had no interest in the tutorial material. They
were there for the fun stuff.
“Y'know the prob'm wit' tough guys, P? They're always talkin' shit, tryna make 'emselves look bigger
'n' badder than the next guy. 'snot worth getting' inta shit with 'em over it though. I just mind my own
business an' watch 'em bluster, sittin' there quietly stirrin' the fire with my dick.”
Peach blushed at this, but chuckled. Neither the humor nor the allegory were lost to her.
They were still far up in the mountains, but the land had been changing around them for some time
now. Civilization and other people were once more concerns to keep in mind.
“Same basic shit applies wherever. Ponces, fer example.”
“Ponces?”
“Hmm, maybe that's just Zelda's word. Ehh, coxcombs? Shit, same prob'm. Fancy assholes who love
'emselves.”
She didn't care to speak ill of anyone, but she knew too well the sort that he meant. Ducking her
head down to the side, she nodded uneasily.
Sonic smiled and shook his head.
“Yer a good kid, P. Let's hope the world lets ya stay that way.”
He sniffed at the exhaust from their improvised tandoor – for the construction of which he had
pressed Peach into service, naturally.
Looking back at Peach, he asked, “Pop-quiz – tell me about this meatloaf in here.”
Peach panicked, went blank, and then sagged in relief as the images replayed in her mind's eye.
“It's a honey Dijon meatloaf. Ground beef and lamb, savory, ash-smoked sea salt, some MSG –
mmm – and thin cheesy butter all kneaded together, basically. Then after the whole thing was in the
pan, we tossed in a flew blobs and spatters of mustard and some more meat with a drizzle of
mayonnaise on top. Finally a layer of sliced tomato, covered with mashed potatoes and Parmigiano-
Reggiano – and then another layer of meat, of course.”
Sonic grinned conspiratorially, then took a quick peek in Zelda's direction.
Leaning in to Peach, he gestured for her to do the same.
Keeping his voice conversational, but indistinct and lowered, he conspired.
“Yeah, well done, P. Y'know, ah... the secret ta some people lies in their stomachs,” winking and
stomping his foot in an exaggeratedly quiet way as he said this, “it's all about the 'S's: savory, sage,
saffron, an' salt – grease too, but I can't get an 'S' outta that; just... maybe not so much with the peanut
satés, 'less ya leave out the peanut paste an' then yer a'ight. An' if she knew I told ya that, she'd kill me.”
She nodded studiously, repeating the “S”s and grease to herself.
“Mind you, that's just some people, y'know?” he cleared his throat firmly, “I'm'a say this real loud,
so the people in the back can hear me: that's just the secret ta some people in par-ti-cu-lar...?” he tilted
his head sideways, twitching it toward Zelda a few times, his eyebrows far up and his eyes wide as he
darted them in her direction, “just trust me when I say Mikey likes it.”
Peach blinked, then her eyes went wide, as her face transformed and her mouth took on a huge “O”
shape. At this, she began repeating her “S”s and grease with a furious concentration.
Sonic chuckled at this and went back to sniffing the meatloaf's outgassing. Needs kale. Gonna have
ta see if we can get some aroun' here. Maybe kohlrabi; that'd work too, an' a lot easier ta find... yeah,
an' maybe I shoulda thrown in them cashews anyways, too... shit. Oh, well.
Once it was done, Peach threw in the sugar cookies that she'd worked on, with little red and green
sugar sprinkles all over them, and pinches of fresh ginger and minced sorrel in each, and a few drops of
honey, just for Zelda.
“Ya got a bit o' schmutz on yer right cheek, there,” he mentioned, and as she wiped at it
ineffectually, he added to her “S”-list with salmon, pig, cheese, and any kind of omelettes.
Once the meatloaf and cookies were done, they set them out for everyone and declared it to be
dinner time.
Zelda looked at Peach, whose eyes were as bright and wide as her hope-filled smile, then at the
meatloaf, and her face froze for a moment. Then she shut her eyes against the tears that threatened to
well up, even as her throat choked tight.
Regaining her composure before Peach could go into a tizzy, Zelda nodded calmly to them both,
“Thank you.
“You're still an asshole, though,” she told Sonic.
He just smiled at her.
“Right back atcha, Z,” he retorted softly.
=====
“I know it's gettin' warmer, kid, but keep yer layers on. You up 'n' die o' pneumonia and I didn't do shit
about it, Z'll kill me. Prob'ly a few times. I don't think I'd like that. Also, waddya think fer tonight?
Bacon-corndogs wit' cheese?”
Peach sulked for a moment, then shrugged, “That sounds like a good flavor balance, and probably
plenty of calories, but it needs more... more something.”
Sonic grinned.
“A'ight, we can work on it. A good thick 'n' rich chili wit' loads o' butter an' rotini maybe, some pasta
e fagioli, an' a nice little primavera salad,” he sniffed the air and looked around, “Hey, we should be in
warm weather in no time, man. You smell that? That's good, deep-forest oxygen there, fulla plant life 'n'
stuff. An' tell me you don't smell a small lake nearby, huh?”
She sniffed some and perked up in avid anticipation. She hadn't gotten to swim in ages, and Zelda
seemed to liven up whenever they did.
As the trail descended slowly, Sonic quizzed her on the smells and textures that they encountered.
The sharpness of a stream, the richness of the pine needles and detritus, the cool breeze with a hint of
wet elm and an incoming afternoon spritz three or four hours distant.
Peach soon had her chance at a swim. The pond was frigid, but delicious, a cool sweet water clearly
fed directly from a mountain spring.
It wasn't long before they'd all joined her, cavorting and splashing and just generally blowing off
steam.
Zelda found herself smiling and didn't know why. It dawned on her that she was happy. Just that.
Simply happy. Everyone was having a good time and nothing else really mattered just then.
She realized that she'd been staring for a while now. Peach is just sitting there with water drops
trickling here and there, her breasts tight and nipples hardened from the chill, beads of water sparkling
as if to highlight and accentuate every nuance, her skin bright and flushed from the activity, her soft
and luscious hips curving just so to the sweet fullness of her ass, the trickles running down her belly
and upper thighs to her... Oh Nayru, to taste her, for her to writhe and moan beneath me...
Zelda let out a deep sigh, her throat vibrating with it as she felt the pull of Peach's warmth and
presence, smelling clean and fresh, her ever-present scent of honeysuckle permeating the area.
Flustered and nearly overwhelmed, she faltered, turning away before her thoughts could wander
further.
To her relief, Peach was too engrossed in a conversation with Sonic about making dashi from kelp
and fish to notice this. To her even greater relief, Ruru seemed to have slept through it entirely,
sunning herself with an array of invisible mirrors and lenses of magical energy to affect a sourceless
all-over tan; how she'd given it a beach chair form was a bit of a puzzle. Tails was chasing butterflies,
and so was completely unaware of any of this.
“That heather and lavender garland suits ye well, lass,” Zelda observed, her voice taking on an odd
huskiness.
Peach blushed and shrugged nervously, squeezed Zelda in acknowledgment, and simply watched
Zelda's hands on the reins, not knowing what to say. It gave her something to focus on beyond her
kote-men-dou renzoku waza; her kamae were strong, but she kept neglecting her breathing.
At Zelda's remark though, her breaths now came slow and deep, more relaxed.
Indeed, her breath felt soft and warm against Zelda's neck, tickling the base of her skull and the
backs of her ears as always, teasing her stray hairs and distracting her with pleasant thoughts, its
sweetness curling just into her nose's range.
Their shared breaths were a distraction that she could live without, but one that she wouldn't care to
do away with. The closeness, the intimacy of it all was a security blanket to her raw and ever-jangling
nerves. Something about Peach's very presence alone soothed her, comforted a raw and empty part of
her. It also made her wish to turn around in the saddle and ravage her right there, driving constant
daydreams as they rode.
Her arms about my waist, her hands clasped at my dāntián... Nayru, how I long to lean back into
her, to feel her tongue caressing the full lengths of my ears, nibbling at their tips and lobes, breathing
slowly into them, moaning into them, her tongue gently probing, her hands surely lowering their
position as she bites my neck... her soft body brushing across my spine...
The towering mountain holdings of the Dwarven Undercold scraping the uppermost clouds to one side
of their path grew less brooding; the ancient, titanic trees of Schöndunkelundtief Forest to the other
side, marking the lands of Badder Country9, loomed farther away and slightly less gargantuan with
distance. They would soon be beyond the outer marches of the empire.
The air grew rapidly thick, an oppressive heat bearing down from every direction, dry dust working
its way into every breath and crevice.
As they came to the South Trail, the main road paralleling the coast, they reached a border town. A
bit small for a town, but still too busy to quite qualify as a mere village. At the corner of the
intersection to Ocean Parkway, Zelda stopped in the middle of what she'd been saying, staring ahead
numbly. A restaurant shaped and painted like a crystal castle.
“Dude, y'aight?” Sonic glanced at Zelda, then in the direction of her gaze.
“Valjean's? That name mean some'n to ya?”
Zelda raised her head slightly, then lowered it, “It's someone who died a long time ago...”
“Great. Every fuckin' time I think I got a handle on things, this fuckin' place just keeps gettin'
weirder 'n' fuckin' weirder. The path o' my life is strewn wit' cowpats from the Devil's own Satanic
herd!
“I know that look, Z. Is it safe?”
“I have to know...”
“Is it safe?”
“Either most adamantly so, or else this is indeed a truly byzantine trap.”
“Great...”
Ahead of them lay Valjean's burgers, Hylian-Dwarven fusion cuisine. Nothing stirred in the area
beyond a chitarrone strummed in an aimless tune from some nearby veranda, its frets slanted against
equal temperament, strings slack and speaking of loneliness as a wolf howled in the distance.
“ 'least it ain't high noon,” he grumbled as a tumbleweed crossed their path, “an' hey, maybe they
serve spaghetti, huh? Just remember: no stinkin' badges.”
If it don't go sideways, we'll be outta the sun for a few. Gettin' ta be that time, anyway.
Just as they gained the wood sidewalk adjacent their goal, a Saguaro wearing a sombrero and a kilt
came out and floated past them.
“Anyone else see that shit...?” Sonic asked after a moment of eyeballing it.
Peach glanced in the direction that he was looking, “The outfit is a trifle unusual, but sensible in this
climate.”
“Uh-huh... an' that's normal ta you?”
She wasn't sure of how to respond.
“It was a cactus, P, an' it wasn't touchin' the ground. An' it was talkin' to itself. An' it was drinkin' a
freakin' cherry-limeade slushy.”
“Oh,” she replied, seeming to grasp his point now, “they10 just do that. I've never met one myself,
9 Badders: While I think of them as just your everyday Badder [mutant badger-people] of Gamma World (1e), I suspect that if I were to
really go over their details in at least the first few editions and compare them with some of the other species there, then the Badders of
Light World would likely be tweaked here and there. They're almost certainly further affected by cinnabryl and vermeil (AD&D 2e,
Red Steel).
10 Cacti: Intelligent Cacti (as opposed to non-capitalized normal cacti) live solitary lives, rarely leaving the Eastern plains and steppes,
though they do range rather farther out into the northern regions of the Golden Plains of Rygar than elsewhere. Within their environs,
but I haven't heard anything bad about them.”

“Yeah, no – I mean... never mind, 'scool,” rubbing his forehead, he let it rest.
Reminds me – gotta show P about cookin' the spines offa cacti, an' we need ta start focusin' on night
travel.
They entered, and the waiter stiffened to attention immediately upon seeing them. That wasn't a
simple customer service stance – his eyes and everything else about him showed instant recognition.
Sonic didn't like it. Another waiter in the back stood still for a moment, turned around, and headed
straight into the kitchen.
“Table for five, ma'am?”
Zelda just held his eyes. Nothing suspicious in his behavior or look; bearded, about four and half
feet tall, stout as a barrel and twice as burly in banded armor, sporting a few steel studs here and there,
and a multi-tool hand axe at his belt. Just some anonymous workaday Dwarf.
He took this as assent and proceeded toward the back of the restaurant, pulling away a curtain for
them.
There was a handful of Dwarves within the adjacent room, sitting and eating, some talking or
reading. A few looked up and stood respectfully. Silence descended as the rest followed suit.
The waiter from earlier arrived with a tray of food. Zelda glanced down at it and her breath hitched
audibly.
The tray held two ratburgers, a carton of fries, a milkshake, five rupees, and three silvers.
Sonic tensed. He couldn't see any trouble, but he could feel it screaming at him.
“Z? Ya look like someone just walked over yer grave.”
It turned out that Valjean was the name that she had gone by many years ago, when she'd first been
on the run. She'd been desperate, hungry, alone. Her wanted poster had been everywhere when a
relatively newlywed Dwarven couple had taken pity on her. After she'd left them, their business had
done well, and they'd branched out. It was a family business, and they'd made it a standing order that
everyone memorize her picture. If she were ever to enter one of their establishments, she was family –
not treated like family, but family in fact. In their eyes, she was a Dwarf as much as anyone else in the
room.
The tray of food had also been mandated. In her time with them, they'd exchanged recipes, and had
come up with the forebear of the current Valjean Signature Special – a 'burger that turned out to be the
basis of their eventual prosperity. It started with just a basic whey-and-corn-fed Kobe-Matsuzaka
ratburger of well-aged meat with caramelized onions and a little adobo worked into it, the patty then
being perforated and marinated in soy sauce and aged Balsamic vinegar; it was initially seared on hot
iron to hold in the juices before performing the overall slow grilling over an open fire with just a little
bamboo in the flames, brushed with butter before and after every one of the many flips, and once
placed onto the toasted sourdough bun, Roquefort was crumbled over it and topped with a layer of
softened cheddar, and finally six slices of ratbacon smoked en suite with apple and oak, and some
okonomi sauce, with a shiitake cap as the top of the bun.
This resulting ratburger was the type that was on the tray, and the waffle fries had evolved into an
they wander as randomly as cats, sometimes staying near a given home-base, sometimes going far and wide on a drunkard's walk.
They don't have much use for civilization, but don't shun it either; it's purely a question of whether anything has caught their interest
for the moment. Occasionally they'll hire themselves out for various tasks (living some fantasy in their minds, such as secret agent or
flying ace, while they perform said job), using their earnings for whimsy (such as sombreros and kilts, or coral castles), since they've
no need for anything that isn't already provided by the weather.
Aside from a natural psionic ability to hover up to three feet above the ground / water / quicksand (a form of controlled wingless
flight, typical medium-creature speeds), they can also burrow downward through sand / compacted-dirt in order to bury themselves
against threats, with a limited ability to move around therein (~1/10 speed).
assortment of fries made of several different roots and vegetables, each with individualized seasonings,
but on the whole it was precisely what she'd been offered that first night, right down to the change for
what she hadn't paid.
“Are they...?” Zelda couldn't finish her question.

The waiter who had brought them to the back room nodded, “They're fine. Still running things back
in Hyrule, in fact, or at least as recently as last Tuesday–”
“Wednesday,” the other waiter corrected.
“–Wednesday,” he amended, without missing a beat.
The party stayed the night there, resting and eating and exchanging stories of the years gone by.
Peach learned a lot about Zelda's wild days. More food was pressed upon them throughout, and again
in the morning before they took their leave, their bellies groaning, along with copious supplies that
would have been insulting to have turned down.
=====
“Y'know how P don't talk about her family, right? Like, ever?” Sonic asked when they had a moment
alone.
Zelda nodded once, a look crossing her face that said that she knew this full well, and didn't relish
her surmise in the least.
“Wuzzat tell ya?”
Zelda pursed her lips, brooding, her countenance clouding darkly.
“Uh-huh, same here,” he continued, “I ain't tryna push it, but there's no good time ta talk about it, an'
it ain't like there's a lotta chances we can talk alone.”
He picked at some clover between his feet.
Notwithstanding, neither said anything for a few minutes thereafter. There was time. Peach was
down by the stream, safe within their view.
“I don't know, Sonic,” Zelda finally replied, “she hasn't said anything about them to me, and she
never stops talking about everything else.”
“She ain't asked me about getting' back ta the Mushroom Kingdom, neither – an' fer as much as she's
inta you, I don't think yer the only reason why. Alls I know is, some'n ain't kosher.”
Zelda turned away briskly, avoiding the topic of Peach's amorous pursuits.
“D'ye think she's running from something then? Beatings maybe?” her look darkened greatly, taking
on a deathly-still hardness that he wouldn't want pointed at him, “Molested...?”
“Nah man, it ain't that. Some'n else,” he said slowly, scratching his jaw as he mulled over how to
phrase it without causing Zelda to go ballistic, “s'more like she don't really think about 'em at all,
y'know?”
“Peach? Not think about someone?”
“Yeah. Exactly. She ain't like that, but that's pretty much it,” he concluded, “they just ain't on her
radar at all, like they're not even there.”
Peach had just finished splashing Tails and Ruru, and turned back to wave to Zelda and Sonic.
They waved back, and exchanged a look.
“Aye, that's truly not like her at all.”
“An' y'ever hear her bitch or complain about anything? Anything at all, even fuckin' once? Even just
ta kvetch outta principle? That ain't normal fer anyone.”
“Alright, and what are ye driving at, man?” Zelda's speech shed years at this, sounding much as she
had when he'd first met her, lilting fluidly and all full of rounded vowels and tapped “r”s.
“She's vulnerable.”
“Aye, an' a blind man could see that, ye great twat!”
“No. Listen,” he glanced back down to the stream where the others frolicked and back to Zelda,
“some'n inside o' her is just a big damn' open hole an' she's bleedin' out inta the water but don't know it.
You been gettin' soft on her – shaddup, it's in yer eyes an' everything ya do – you been getting' soft, an'
I'm worried ya might both be goin' down some road that's gonna hurt a shit-ton.”
“Aye, right. Ye daft?”
“Look, this is goin' the wrong way. I'm tryna say that...” he blew out a breath, “just be careful,
a'ight?”
=====
Passing a trader on the road, they picked up a motley of clothing and some musical instruments. Tails
had suggested that a troupe of entertainers wouldn't draw much notice.
Peach also acquired two bottles of Whacka Juice from the trader, and introduced Zelda to it. A deep
rum flavor with a strong presence of chocolate liqueur and highlights of crème de menthe, Zelda took
to it in a heartbeat.
“Well,” she admitted, “I do rather like cream liqueurs.”
“And Eiswein, or a good spiced plum wine,” Peach added helpfully.
“...an' amaretto, 'n' Guinness, 'n' auslese 'n' spätlese...” added Sonic, counting off his fingers.
“...and cherry brandy, and dry vermouth, and hot saké, and pretty much everything else,” Ruru
concluded with a nod.
“You have the wrong of me, there! I'll not tolerate Tanqueray or sambuca, as I've a taste for neither
pine trees nor used motor oil. Either of those leaves you feeling as if there's a party in your mouth and
everyone's puking!”
A moment passed.
“And those funny-smelling cigars she's always smoking. You can't forget about them! She always
gets so sweet and relaxed after one of those – at least until she nods off, I mean...” Tails chimed in with
some serious thought, as if the list were still going.
What transpired was an impromptu bullshit session and general party.
The afternoon saw one bottle being passed around in general while the other stayed with Zelda, as
did Peach. She was hardly trying to get Zelda drunk or play the strumpet, but one might be hard
pressed to see the difference at any distance. Sitting beside her, Peach had finagled her way into
Zelda's arm, leaning into her and nestling her head in the crook of Zelda's neck, snuggling herself close
with her shoulder buried within Zelda's armpit. Zelda didn't seem to mind or even notice, just taking it
in stride as a matter of course to go with the drink. Smoke enwreathed them as the bottle steadily
depleted, so much so that even Peach began to feel soft and floating. Zelda's hand gently stroked her
shoulder or hip, sometimes wandering boldly of its own accord to delve into more personal areas,
thrilling Peach to no end, as did taking occasional swigs from the bottle right after Zelda had, or when
Zelda did the same. Whereas Zelda's corded muscles were as steel, Peach was soft and well-rounded,
as Zelda's absent-minded ministrations kept reminding them both, causing Peach's breathing to become
noticeably thicker and more bothered as the afternoon progressed toward evening.
Sonic broke out three kinds of apples, half a dozen different cheeses, several species of mushrooms,
a half-gallon of the local clover honey, and a rack of miniature sausages that he'd made. The sausages
were a hit, their skins bursting like grapes as one bit into them, juice and grease flooding one's mouth,
and a flavor somewhere between hard salami and bacon-dates, with undertones of a sweet vinegar and
smoky barbecue and tiny bits of shrimp. This variation on Lebanon bologna had turned out to be well
worth the hassle of having dragged them around while they cured for a week and a half, not to mention
the hardwood cold-smoker that he and Tails had rigged to roll along with them for the next five days
after that.
“She's a flutist, Sonic. A fucking flutist...” Zelda commented, “Did you know that she could play the
flute?”
Her eyes were on the middle distance, a small smile painting her lips.
Sonic made a non-committal shrug, bobbing his head sideways. He didn't want to distract her, nor
draw attention to her piqued interest and ruin it.
Peach still sat with Zelda, who now watched her fingers dance dexterously across the holes. Her
gaze would return to Peach's taut embouchure and linger awhile, then down to her slowly heaving
chest, across the flare of her hips and length of her legs. Peach wasn't entirely unaware of Zelda's
hazily riveted lusting, and while she didn't play up to it wantonly, she also made no move to avert it,
glancing over at times to hold Zelda's eyes briefly as she played.
Zelda couldn't know it, but she could feel the underlying complexity of Peach's melody dancing
across the keys – B, G, E-flat... she improvised wildly, all the while blending the chords playfully,
leaping and dancing from one key center to the next, tripping across the thirds at 290 BPM, straying
into every key while always wandering back to the theme. Zelda could practically see the music
flitting about before Peach could reach it, and then suddenly one or the other would spin away in a
refrain wholly unexpected, like light-dappled ripples full of life. Her mind befogged, each moment
passed as the next still formed, and she felt the breath of its life carry her forward.
Evening. Campfire in a glen, some distance off of the road. Will-o'-wisps – teine biorach, Zelda
called them – danced across the distant heather all along the moor. The smell of roasting käsewurste
and drippings blended with smoke from hickory and cherry wood, accompanied by snatches of laughter
and music. Everyone was well stuffed on saffron rice and sweet and sour pork, now all relaxed in the
soft glow of the fire, a large snake 11 having been skinned and set to the spit as two racks of salted fish
and eel smoked above it with the promise of lutefisk to come.
Sonic was playing a bag-o'-doo12, providing an oddly soothing background with its blatty rumble.
Tails was tapping along on a small steel drum contraption, with an assortment of different-sized
Orcish war-drums along its side. He wasn't particularly skilled with this, but he was enjoying himself.
Peach sang enthusiastically, dancing around and waving her arms to the lyrics as she sang.
“...hands up!
Baby, hands up!
Gimme your heart,
gimme, gimme all your love,
all your love...”
“Ya do realize she didn't Rick-roll us, right? Just you. Twice,” needling Zelda a little more, Sonic
wasn't letting that gem get away, “C'mon, man, 'Together forever' an' 'Never gonna give you up'? Dude,
she's throwin' it atcha. She's serious, man, this ain't just some... I dunno, bullshit infatuation or some'n.”
Zelda gave him a look, rolled her eyes, and flicked the backs of her middle and index fingers
11 Snake: good source of protein, simple trap
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bys2xcKJ9g0&list=PLzdQ9vN7FdPZjyGGlpnZzCvvsOH0-tlgA&t=1s&index=27
12 Bag-o'-doo: a concertina-like device with bagpipe-drones sticking out of it. Like a pipe organ, each drone puts forth a different pitch;
unlike a pipe organ, the tones are those of a didgeridoo.
upward at him briefly in a V-shape.

Ruru danced in mid-air, whirling and bobbing as if a cork afloat in a storm-tossed sea, gyrating and
thrusting her torso hungrily to the rhythm. Small flashes and blobs of foxfire sparkled around her,
casting thin shimmering strands of color like miniature aurorae between glowing green symbols that
fell like heavy snow followed by tracers, all within a volume of strobing actinic light and swirling dry
ice fog. At the verge, a few odd bits of confetti, sparkles, and soap bubbles. The whole was cast in
random spots of pixellation in time to the beat. With a string of violet glowsticks around her waist and
red-and-blue-lensed glasses to complete the ensemble, she was quite a sight to see, especially when the
strobe went black, leaving her limned by fluorescing blue-green mint bodypaint in tribal and circuitry
patterns. This was all that she wore, but one's eyes would be hard pressed to notice that, with
everything else going on around her.
“How much has Ruru had to drink, anyway?” Zelda wondered.
“I dunno. Ahh, three, maybe four capfuls.”
Zelda shot him a look.
“Those things must be two or three ounces a piece!”
“Hey, you seen 'er down whole cupcakes 'n' still throw back an entire Ramune. Don't gimme agita
about her overindulgence now, man. Ya wanna bitch about it, bitch at her – an' ya know that won't do
no good.”
Zelda nodded, shrugging.
Ruru adopted a thuggish stance, squinting at them as she wiped the back of her thumb across her
nose, “Wa'shi wa... Drunken Master! Wai... why was she?” and giggled.
“Cul dere,” Zelda scoffed.
“That's kuudere – kisama ass!” Ruru objected, chuckling at her latest pun, and collapsing in a near-
stupor.
Zelda looked back to Sonic, “She didn't have that fool's cap a moment ago, did she?”
“Ehh,” he replied.
He turned to her and added, “P really don't know what that song's about at all, huh?”
“Not a bloody clue,” Zelda agreed, shaking her head and smiling fondly, “though you'd think that
she would have at least understood the undertones of 'I touch myself '.”
“Ya'd think.”
Yeah, thought Sonic, then again, maybe she really did...
Peach launched into her next song.
“Ooh, baby, do you know what that's worth?

Ooh, Heaven is a place on Earth...”
As the evening wound down, a besotted Zelda arose, and everyone stilled. After casting a brief look
toward Peach, a pure, rich contralto ushered forth softly, growing passionate as the stanzas progressed,
casting a mesmeric veil over them all.
“Quando sono solo, e sogno all'orizzonte, e mancan le parole,

sì, lo so che non c'è luce in una stanza quando manca il sole,
se non ci sei
tu con me,
con me.
Su
le finestre,
mostra a tutti il mio cuore, che hai acceso;
chiudi
dentro me
la luce che
hai incontrato per strada...”
When she finished, the spell remained for several seconds more until a few hesitant claps began,
followed by scattered cheers.
Zelda bowed and turned to sit, but paused, her mood now turning a bittersweet somber. Strumming
a few slow dulcet bars on her lyrechord 13, the others followed her lead, picking up the tune on their
instruments.
“Ekhali na troyke s bubentsami,

a vdali mel'kali ogon'ki...
ekh, kogda by mne teper' za vami,
dushu by razveyat' ot toski!...”
Where the first had soared, this song pulled unrelenting at the heart, a wraith with a siren's sway.
When she finished, a new spell of sorts had settled on the group. A sense of empty longing. Looking
around, she nodded and shrugged, saying a single word: “Тоска,” as if by way of explanation as she lit
a cigar.
“ 'You might think I'm crazy?' ” Sonic chuckled to himself as he curled up for the night, “Never heard
that song before, but it fits.”
As they fell asleep, Zelda rolled over and buried her face in Peach's chest.
Peach's eyes went wide at this.
“Mmm, y' nice-a'-warm, an' so fu'ing soft...” Zelda mumbled drunkenly from between Peach's
breasts, licking her lips, and inadvertently Peach's breasts, as she snuggled closer “...'n' won'f'y...
squishy...” she finished as she grabbed her ass and pulled her closer, settling in with a leg thrown over
one of Peach's.
Peach's breath hitched as she looked down toward Zelda's head. After a moment, she just smiled
and put her arm around her, pulling the covers up around them both.
=====
As they forged deeper into the brackish marshes of the southeastern hinterland, Peach's mosquito bites
multiplied. Zelda showed no such issue, but found herself almost as distracted by Peach's suffering as
Peach herself was.
Chiding her to eat more salt and garlic, Zelda drew the vinegar-damp cloth gently across Peach's
back. Tails had made sure that they had a fair supply of it before entering the wetlands, a good apple
cider vinegar, rich with the mother. Peach had been skeptical when he'd done this, but had since
completely converted to swearing by it after the first application had nearly instantly removed the
13 Lyrechord: an instrument arranged so that half of the strings are to be plucked as a lyre, with the counterpart strings being hammered
harpsichord-like.
heated swelling and maddening itch and pain.

Mosquitoes weren't the only thing in great numbers. One plant that seemed to thrive perfectly well
across the region was bracken, seemingly unaffected by the high salinity all about. The thick fern
fronds provided ample cover for a great many small birds, mammals, lizards, and insects. While these
made for a varied diet, Sonic made note to Peach that the leaves and rhizomes of the plant contained a
chemical that needed to be cooked off before consumption.
Their route tended a little northerly to take advantage of the better terrain, though the balance was
difficult at times, often becoming quite arid, with sharp delineations between the two climes. In the
wetter regions, they found a need to watch for the aggressions of hippopotami, but this came with a
silver lining in that their misfortune of killing one early on came with the discovery that it made for
excellent stews and roasts, somewhat between lamb and beef. Although this sustained them for quite
some time, the whole had been too much meat for them to carry, even though it hadn't been a very large
specimen in itself; luckily there were quite a few carrion eaters that were happy to make a meal of the
extra portions.
Not long after that, they found any number of interesting ways to prepare crocodile. Skinning them
was as slow a task as one might expect, but they didn't go to waste at all, providing all with much-
needed expansions to their wardrobes. Its fishiness surprised Peach, as did the overall low fat content
and its flexibility with recipes; over time, her favored presentation was with chutney, chili jelly of any
sort, and a citrus drizzle, about which nobody had a single complaint. Wild rice abounded, and the
stems went well with most of their meals. Everywhere around were cranberries, duckweed, cattails,
broadleaf plantain, watercress, arrowhead, lovage, Hottentot-figs, water chestnut and water caltrop, and
kelp. The water salinity varied quite a bit, but that just gave Sonic an excuse to show Peach how to
build a simple still from mud and reeds, boiling off the water in the first pot to produce perfectly good
salt as a byproduct, while condensing the steam into potable water by running the long spout-stem
through a second bowl with a cooling bath surrounding the stem (the walls of the bath sealed at both
ends around the stem, so that the stem could be submerged completely within the cooling bath) and
leaves stuffed loosely into the stem in order to capture as much moisture as possible at the end of the
tube over a third bowl – this became easier once there was sufficient potable water to bubble the steam
up through it, letting the condensate act to liquefy what more it could that hadn't already been extracted
by the bath.
In the drier regions, Sonic had his chance to teach Peach about the pads and fruits of numerous
species of cactus, spiders and other crawly things to avoid or to eat, and the importance of banging out
one's clothing and shoes upon awaking before putting them on. Given how empty it appeared to be,
Peach was worried about their food supplies and sources of water – they weren't about to go deep into
the desert, but it was still a rather harsh land from what she'd read. As she soon discovered, she needn't
have been concerned; hackberries, ironwood trees, wolfberries, mesquite, olive and palm trees, wild
onions, goyo, desert chia, jojoba, many species of amaranth, tamarisk (their manna, more specifically),
and chuparosas grew all over, not to mention the populations of tortoises, rabbits, gazelles, insects, and
lizards. Water was almost as easy to come by, between succulents and saxaul tree bark, but she still
learned to follow dry river beds and keep her eyes open for denser groupings of plants and darker
patches of ground, especially near rock formations – this was more difficult at night, of course, but
preferable by far to the punishing sun of daytime travel, not to mention that the exercise helped against
the chill of the open land by night.
Wherever their path was mixed, they found a large number of species of land crabs, which delighted
Peach. The odd patch of clover or beach strawberry went well with them.
In each of these terrains though, her fighting exercises never ceased, and she grew more versatile in
each. She learned how to bend the tamarisk to a bow in seven pieces, strengthened with sinew backing
and a belly from the side of an ibex horn, held together with glue from fish bladders after having first
degreased the surfaces with a thin wood-ash lye then roughened the same to increase their bonding
surface areas, and later heated to squeeze out excess glue for a stiffer backing and more reflex; once
Sonic brought out the J-shaped piece of wood to tighten the three layers of sinew wrapping, her eyes
had widened, knowing already how much more tension this would bring to them – she knew that this
would be only her first wholly real bow, a mere training bow, though so much more than her practice
bow to date, with only a gentle oven bake and not the months of time needed for it to season and
polymerization to take good hold, but the final result with rawhide snakeskin was even so a thing of
beauty to behold, and her heart swelled as Zelda taught her how to oil it properly against humidity. Her
eyes began to pick out features without thinking, features that she'd have completely missed before.
Her ears grew accustomed to the silence, such that she could hear and even identify prey much farther
away than she'd ever imagined, and the silence now filled with sounds to her. The scents of different
sands and stones began to take on meaning that carried volumes of important information, telling her
what to expect in the coming miles. The lands all around began to open themselves to her as much as
the forests and mountains had before them, and were rich with life and vibrant change.
When they encountered the rare village, they took the opportunity to supplement their seasonings
and perishables (butter was always on the list). By this time, even Peach had begun to acquire an edge
to her bearing, though anyone coming in from the bush was automatically accorded a degree of respect
– and caution. There were no untoward incidents, at least no more so than Sonic's bending of the
occasional barkeep's ear on suggestions for different materials to distill from, how to improve their
alcohol content percentages, and considerations of infused flavors.
That's not to say that there were no incidents entirely.
It was in one such village that they encountered people on the edge of starvation. Bandits had
demanded a levy from all in the area, and those who resisted were never seen past dawn of the next
day. They'd detoured just for this, ensuring that the bandits were no more, only to be approached by the
village's mayor. He'd been the warlord before the bigger bad guys had shown their faces. Now he
wanted to hire them, to bolster his diminished forces and return to business as usual, the way that it
used to be, the way that it should be. The incentive was food and sex on demand from the locals –
anyone, any time, anywhere, any way; they'd live like kings in their own private brothel – and what
little cash and plunder might catch their eyes. He didn't last long after that.
Two months after the encounter with Valjean's in the trading town fifteen hundred miles behind them,
they stood reckoning the distance remaining to Freeport and deciding which route might offer the best
travel.
“Yeah, we should be maybe fifty miles out,” Sonic said as he studied the map in Zelda's hands.
“Sixty-five miles north-northwest,” Peach announced as she put away her sunstone and compass.
Zelda and Sonic turned, plainly wondering just how she'd arrived at this.
“That particular breed of wasabi over there grows only within a thirty mile radius; Mount
Ouroboros14 is five or six degrees east of north, and there's only one river around here with three
14 Mount Ouroboros: It stands 84,480 feet tall (16 mi, 25.6 km). Sitting at a mean average angle of repose of 40°, its base is 38.13
miles (61.013 km) in diameter, giving it a footprint of 4,568.35(+) square miles (11,831.35(+) sq km) and a surface area of 9,522.53(+)
square miles (24,663.24(+) sq km).
Our heroes now stand perhaps 1,000 miles south of it, so it would occupy approximately 0.91671° (~55.003') of vertical arc (just a
shade less than twice the angle of Luna from Earth – about two pencil-widths [or 1 pinky thickness, or >2/3 of the thickness of a
cigarette pack] at arm's distance) and 2.1846° of horizontal arc (almost five pencil-widths [or 2.5 fingers' breadth, or ~5/7 of a cigarette
pack's breadth] at arm's distance) – assuming line of sight.
The immensity of its cross-section makes it a major player in the primarily easterly weather cells passing by it.
Along parts of Mt Ouroboros, and to the west of it, lie the Wamphyri kingdoms. See the short story “To be”, for a taste of the region.
tributaries feeding into it at the same point.”

They blinked at this simple statement and continued to stare.
“What? I read a lot,” she continued, shrinking into herself a tiny bit.
A small Barrel Cactus floated past them, underscoring the emptiness of the area as she said this.
Sonic shook his head, thinking that he'd never get used to that.
=====
As evening approached on their last night together for a while, Sonic gave Zelda a look. She already
knew what was coming.
“Goddesses, no...”
“C'mon, Z, it's been fer-fuckin'-ever man, an' P's never seen this shit – dude, she's gonna fuckin' love
'The Holy Grail,' hah? Hell, we can maybe throw in some 'Meanin' o' life' 'n' 'Life o' Brian' 'n' stuff an'
call it a hat-trick. Waddya say? We might not get another chance, y'know,” his voice lowered
meaningfully as he finished, then catching sight of Peach he amended this hastily, “fer a bit, I mean.
You just sit back with her an' relax some, an' we'll get the ball rollin' in no time. A'ight?”
“With a cast of three?”
“Chill, we got this. Consider it a command performance.”
Munching away on chiles rellenos con chorizo, Peach was delighted, and especially enjoyed the
“Spam” and “Lumberjack” songs. Having the perfect excuse to snuggle back against Zelda with a nice
fat jug of hard cider didn't hurt, either.
Even Zelda enjoyed herself some. Sonic had put on all of these shows and more for her, years ago,
trying to get her through a rough patch. It was good to see them again, albeit with a certain nostalgia.
It was also kind of nice to feel Peach's soft, lush form resting against her.
O ~~~ O
Chapter 3: Pills and Swills

As they crested the hill, cicadas trilling all around them, the sea came into view, its low susurrus just
audible in the distance, punctuated by the odd boomer and screaming gulls and kites. It shimmered an
impossible, brilliant azure, Freeport hugging the hills around it. The crest of Mount Ouroboros was
still visible far to the north, a permanent storm front churning in the föhn wind to its east, a river
flowing past its west side and emptying here into the bay. Locks lay along its banks, controlling flow
to and from the fisheries farther afield. Rich pasture lands rolled through the low hills surrounding the
bay, though not to any great distance. Mimosas and dogwoods dotted the land, white powder beaches
rolling to the water, clusters of pampas grass speckling the whole between tufts of reeds and gamboling
flings of sandpipers. The bay itself was alive with ships and fishery caissons, the scent of salt water
and tar threading through it all.
Nearer to hand, verandas encircled the adobe structures that basked in the low-lying sunlight, their
pastel shades preventing the reflection blinding the party. Their rooves were mostly multi-tiered, such
that the lower roof remained cool to the occupants below, with the upper roof covered with trellis-work
for grape vines and olive trees surrounding double-walled flumes that drew hot air upward from within
while cooling the air drawn down through their cores and condensing potable water along their smooth
axially-corrugated inner walls in the process. Shōji opened onto balconies and mezzanines, many of
the richer buildings offering shaded pools and fountains thereon, with private atria at their cores.
Beehives dotted a few of the rooftops, and some of the larger structures sported thin vertical-spiral-
ribbon wind turbines powering either local-use electrical grids or mechanical outputs for the less well
to do concerns. At the mouth of the bay, far from the river, stood solar water distilleries; less effort
being put forth for passive production than by pumping it the whole distance.
Early though it was in the season, flowers of all kinds already colored the roadside below, a caravan
of meat, eggs, and beast-labor ostrdactyls wending its way from the north, with their land lampreys,
grue1, and more exotic creatures subdued within cargo vessels, all raising a slow cloud of dust in its
1 Grue: a highly aggressive, bipedal, invasive underground species capable of flight. Incredibly photosensitive, a flashlight beam being
capable of severely burning their bodies (the extremely young, 2”-3” long, burst into flames when exposed to ultraviolet light).
Stronger than an average Human (though with great effort, a single Human can kill one empty-handed).
Due to the nature of their total-dark environments they have no eyes, possessing instead incredibly sensitive ultrasonic sensor organs
capable of picking up on the most minute of sounds and giving them a detailed “view” of their environment. The hammerhead
supporting their ultrasonic sensors spreads them roughly 2 meters (6.56(+) ft) apart in toto, with a blind spot directly between them,
inches from their mouth. They can also smell blood.
They have thin, streamlined bodies, the wings being tipped with razor-sharp claws. They possesses a lobster-like exoskeleton of
chitinous protein polysaccharides (impenetrable to everything but the most powerful firearms; 12-gauge shotguns and pulse rifles
being quite effective), replacing the surface cells with polarized silicon (allowing them great environmental resistance). Their feet are
lizard-like with four monstrous talons radiating toward the front. Their blood is thick and blue, possibly due to an abundance of
hemocyanin.
Their long tails are used for balance and the catching and dragging of prey (the ends vary: two curved tips, an almost-surgical
stinger-like barb, or a large knife-like blade).
miles-long wake.
Months ago, they had set out on this journey. Winter had since come and gone.
Turning to Sonic, Zelda looked over to Epona and jerked her chin up, “Ye'll see her back tae the
tree-hugger, then, yeah?”
He nodded once, and stared off into the distance.
“Well. This sucks royal ass,” he said finally.
“Aye,” agreed Zelda, “and in no good way.”
He could see Peach off to the side, squinting thoughtfully, concentrating on something and making
“O” shapes with her mouth as if sucking on a lemon, her arms still down, but her hands and shoulders
subtly signaling a parting motion. Apparently my comment caught 'er attention, or more likely Z's two-
edged reply did. Yeah, ya can almost see the freakin' hamster racin' along in its wheel... A smile passed
across his face briefly. This girl's all ears, an' I'm pretty damn' sure she's got some surprises fer Z
either way.
“Well, smoke me a kipper, I'll be back fer breakfast,” he said as he and Zelda performed a
complicated ritual, their handshake becoming a handclasp by the thumbs, pulling away with a hooking
of their fingers only to fist bump and end with a snap from each.
As he turned away, he nodded to Peach “Watch yer ass, P, an' stay frosty. An' remember: be good;
an' if ya can't be good, be careful – an' if ya can't be careful...” he glanced over to Zelda for a moment,
then back to Peach, “name it after me,” he finished with a tilt of his jaw.
Zelda rolled her eyes.
Peach smiled, then nodded and hugged him. They had all said their goodbyes earlier that afternoon,
but Sonic had accompanied them this last little leg, just because.
He did a little sidestep, followed by some soft-shoe, as he began to sing on his way back to camp.
“Somewhere beyond the sea,

somewhere waitin' fer me,
my lover stands
on golden sands
an' watches the ships
that go sailin'...”
Zelda returned to the persona and speech that she'd adopted several days ago, a rough, brash voice
with closed and rounded vowels, a cadence of a few beats' length and a rising lilt.
“Remember, Princess,” admonished Zelda, “it's Tetra no'. Jus' Tetra.”
Freeport. Not exactly a neutral city-state so much as completely unwanted by any other power bloc.
Its sole claim to freedom rested in the virtue of it lying at the ass end of nowhere, holding no strategic
value whatsoever to anyone, and being of insufficient logistical value to sustain more than itself.
Taking it would be a distinct challenge far outweighed by the cost, due to the moors and bayous
wreathing the area, the volcanic shoals and narrow channels opening onto the sea, and the coral reefs
attending it all. The bayous' sprawling alligator and hypnotoad2 farms supplemented their food supply
They can spit acid or mix their saliva with solids to produce a resin for hives and cocoons. The inner jaw is a muscular appendage
within the mouth consisting of a cord of muscle with a small but extremely deadly mouth-like appendage on the end. This attack-
tongue is able to punch through almost anything, from bone to armor.
2 Hypnotoad: While the whole of the carcass can be eaten, whereas the tongue is an expensive delicacy (typically served corned), the
haunches (often barbecued) are easily affordable to all but the most-impoverished. The tenderloin makes for a succulent weekend
roast, and the innards offer a tangy haggis. Their caviar isn't highly valued, but is a surprisingly popular street-vendor food
well, but served another purpose as an additional layer of security. Even the open waters presented
some issues with man-o'-wars and highly aggressive king crabs; innumerable small islands made the
already risky wind and water currents all the more treacherous.
Pirates, traders, the helpless and homeless. Nobody came here, save only that they had no other
place to turn.
Every power kept spies stationed here of course, to spy upon one another, but the spies were only
those too inept to station elsewhere, yet too connected to simply be rid of. They spent their time
buying one another drinks and trading gossip to pass on to their superiors. They sent in their reports,
and someone filed them away unread. It was a milk run.
Tetra and Peach came to the city wall along a deserted road. A bored toll gate guard glanced up in
surprise.
“You wot?!? Price is too 'igh.”
“Lady, they don't consult me about policy, I just take the fare,” he considered, “Maybe you could
leave the doxy here, and come back in an hour. Your call.”
Tetra's eyes steeled.
“You won't hurt me, my friend,” the guard said, “it's Tuesday, yes?”
Not wishing to be distracted, but thrown off by this, Tetra asked him “Tuesday?”
“Yeah,” he replied, “It's a metaphysical narrative imperative: nothing ever happens on Tuesdays. If
something actually did manage to happen on a Tuesday, it still wouldn't happen. It's an ontological
impossibility. Some would even say teleologically prohibited, but that's going a bit too far, I think.
Besides, it's sunset. Anything happening in the middle of an otherwise lazy afternoon right as sunset
begins to set in would just beggar the imagination – it's almost too obvious to be allowed even if it
weren't Tuesday.”
Tetra looked at him for a moment, trying to figure out if he'd meant all of that, or were simply feeble
minded.
“Look. Today is Tuesday. It could have happened last night 'til maybe nine or ten P.M., and it could
still happen tomorrow morning as early as maybe an hour or so before sunrise, but not tonight. It's
Tuesday. Queuey Dee,” he added.
“Q.E.D.?” Tetra prompted.
“Precisely!”
Leaning forward, Peach said “We need to get in, right? I'll be alright. Trust me.”
Tetra left alone, thoughts bouncing around just beneath conscious level, her emotions a tumult.
An hour later, the sun long gone and without even the moon for company, Tetra returned. She didn't
want to move, to breathe, to even exist. Her bones felt leaden and her muscles ached, she was shaking
some, but this went unnoticed, her thoughts a torpid cottony mess. She felt something molten thrashing
slowly within her. Níðhöggr and Jǫrmungandr. Her eyes held rigid as she stared at nothing, infinitely
far away.
She could hear voices coming from within, indistinct laughter.
She closed her eyes and waited.
Ten minutes passed before the door opened, and Peach came out. “...I'm sure that she'll love it. Give
my best to your family, and I hope that things work out with your grandmother's gout. Oh – and thanks
for teaching me how to play Cripple Mister Onion and both versions of Thud!”
Tetra looked up from where she had slid down along the wall, unaware of the world around her. Her
heartbeat quickened, and she felt as if she were made of shards of eggshell held together loosely by bits
nevertheless.
of string and tape.

“Princess?” her voice came out in a croak, a noise forcing itself out of a forgotten organ, barely loud
enough to hear herself. Peach turned and rushed to her, her eyes wide with fear for what she saw in
Tetra's visage.
“Oh my Stars – how long have you been here? What happened to you?”
She knelt next to Tetra, gently bringing her into an embrace, rocking her slowly.
“I'm fuyn,” Tetra replied woodenly, “we ha' tae ge' movin' no'.”
Peach held Tetra's face in her hands, looking deep into her eyes, far past the surface.
“You most certainly are not 'fine,' Zelda.”
“Tetra,” Zelda replied, her voice hollow, “and it doesn' ma'er. We ha' tae keep goin',” drawing herself
up and standing away from Peach. She drew her hand across her face roughly and walked through the
city gate, not sparing a backward glance to ensure that Peach was following.
Where Zelda moved almost sinuously, Tetra strode. Crowds found other places to be.
Peach bumped into someone and pardoned herself.
Tetra grabbed someone else entirely, handed Peach's property back to her, then stared at a third
person leaning against a building as she tossed away the offender.
“Nex' lesson, Princess,” Tetra said, “when some'in' happ'ens, loo' fore wha's raly goan on.”
Where Zelda stalked, Tetra's gait rolled with a bold, quiet menace sounding in her steps. No strut, this
was a commanding presence. Without swagger, it stood as a definite understated threat in every move,
announcing to all that she very, very present.
Even so, a pack of feral dogs soon caught their non-local scent and mistook them as viable targets.
Neither found the pack threatening, simply squaring off and going cold, waves of lethal intent clear to
any with eyes to see. At this, the pack in general, and notably the alpha in particular, found better
places to be.
Farther into the city, Tetra steered them to a bodega, leaving with a few bottles of beer, then onward
to a seedy looking hotel not far beyond. Their garb was a little better kept than that of the people
lounging around in the lobby, but not so much as to draw attention beyond a once-over.
Renting a room for the night, she led Peach up the drab and poorly maintained stairs, passing only
one person on the way, and he was passed out across a blanket on the landing.
After securing the door and giving the room a cursory sweep, she set to work soaking Peach's hair
with beer, not taking much care to avoid spills to their clothing, and again after it had had time to dry,
leaving Peach to drink what hadn't been used. In the interim, she unpacked an outfit of piratical cut,
changing into it as they discussed the evening's plan.
They were to make their way to an establishment by the name of The Flock of Geese, there to make
contact with an underground operative. Peach found this a little nervous-making and a little exciting,
her endearing reaction giving Tetra cause to smile.
Before leaving, Tetra mumbled a few words that Peach couldn't make out, her hands and fingers
dancing a short pattern in the air. As Peach watched, Tetra's appearance changed in response to this
glamour, subtle things alone, but each contributing to a strikingly different affect. She now stood
shorter, a little burly-seeming, with her skin lightening to a medium tone of mahogany. Peach's eyes
widened at this as she bit back her questions.
Removing the chair from the door and leaving by way of the window, they navigated the alleys
toward their assignation.
A dive bar just off of the docks. The painted sign hanging overhead depicted what might resemble a
flock of geese, if one were half-drunken and squinted in poor light. Tetra jerked her chin upward in
recognition to the bouncer outside who rested on a stool beside of the door – not personal recognition,
but recognition of kind – clasping hands around the thumbs for a shoulder bump, then asking directions
to The Gull and Fleece. Glancing around causally for any observers, he nodded them on and discreetly
pocketed a fifty rupee piece as they entered.
As he and Tetra made their exchange, Peach's thoughts wandered to the pub sign's funny-looking
picture and how it could have been a flock of geese or a gull and fleece, or even golden fleece alone.
Adding to this, the motif of geese, seagulls, and yellow wool was painted in such an eye-bending way
as to somehow evoke the thought of naked women and writhing bodies.
Noise, crowd, smell, darkness. The floor was covered with soft, dusty stuff interspersed with bits of
something slightly crunchy, slightly giving – maybe sawdust and wood shavings, or peanut shells...
possibly all of the above.
A few paces in was a large cage. Two women were in it, dancing languidly. Peach wasn't entirely
sure that it was dancing, since it seemed to involve a clear oil. One of them was a young Zora, a fish-
like amphibian species, her face painted inexpertly, her dancing awkward; the other was... not a Zora.
Older, clearly bored and disinterested, her dancing more practiced, but halfhearted and rote. Her light
leaf-green skin was a good match for the Zora's pale aquamarine.
“Oi! Twi'lek!” Tetra called out. The not-a-Zora danced toward her, a pair of thick tentacle-things
dangling from her skull like hair braids, swaying in pace to her motions.
“That Zora, she's a young 'un, eh? Very pre'y, too...”
The Twi'lek just stared through Tetra, moving her hands over herself.
“Young as 'at an' so pre'y tae boot. Shame she'll likely end up jus' ano'er bloodstain in an alley 'fore
long.” The Twi'lek shrugged, the Zora's fate being of no interest to her.
Tetra reached into her coin purse. The Twi'lek's gaze sharpened, focusing on Tetra, her movements
becoming far more fluid, tilting her hips toward Tetra, her lips pursed.
“It's quie' in 'ere, eh? Wha' say we 'ave us a show?” Tetra dropped a five rupee piece into her palm.
The Twi'lek looked on, listening.
“Anyplace else, any o'er ci'y, yore young friend 'ould be jailbai' an' then some, hey?” The Twi'lek
made a moue of irritated concurrence.
“I' occurs tae me tha' as young as she mus' be, I don' imagine tha' her fuyn arse has e'er known the
touch o' another...” Tetra dropped another five rupee piece into her palm, winking at the Twi'lek. Ten
rupees. The Twi'lek was listening more intently.
“So do me a favor,” twenty rupees, “an' see tha' she remembers me,” thirty rupees, “the nex' time
she takes a crap!” Forty rupees. She now had the Twi'lek's undivided attention.
Tetra handed the money to the Twi'lek, who smiled and nodded reassuringly as she palmed it all
surreptitiously.
“An' o' course, don't ge' too enthusiasti'. We wouldn' wan' yer dear, beua'iful young frien' tae su'enly
seek other employmen' opp'rtuni'ies a' a more modest establishment, or up an' quit tae go runnin' away
home tae mommy, now would we?” The Twi'lek made the connection. Even as she shook her head in
exaggerated agreement, she reached for a towel and wiped her hand dry.
“Be sure tae take yore tuym, hon'. Be inven'ive. We wan' the crowd tae ge' me money's worth, don'
we?” Money? More than she made from a decent night or two. She had no idea who this fool was,
but for that much money, she didn't care. Besides, she was going to enjoy bringing this Zora down a
few notches, and maybe the girl would get out of the business and out of her way when she was
through with her.
The Twi'lek sashayed over to the Zora, grabbed her neck, bent her over, and held her down. The
Zora's face took on a look of bewilderment.
Peach couldn't see what happened next, since she was now following Tetra farther into the room,
and a crowd was gathering around the cage. A low roaring cheer came from behind them, drowning
out any further noise.
The tables and chairs were now sparsely occupied.
Over the crowd's noise behind her, Peach could just make out the song being played.
“Now I can't see,

I just stare;
I... I'm still alive,
hey I,
but I'm still alive...”
Tetra chose a small group of tables off to the side, in a semi-private enclosure. One of the tables had
three dancers sitting at it. They wore nearly nothing and still Peach couldn't identify which species any
of them were.
One of dancers caught her eye; short horns coming out of her head just above her temples, her skin
almost shimmering between a deep golden and a brick red, a sheen around her as if coated with sweat
or oil, a set of loreal pits between her eyes' inner corners and her nostrils and another below her eyes'
outer corners, those eyes pulling Peach in with a promise of ineluctable delights made all the more
intriguing by her pupils constantly changing their shape; her irises were mesmerizing, iridescent, and
while she couldn't quite see which colors were there or the changes themselves as they happened, the
self-referential teased Peach's thoughts, insinuating itself beneath a conscious level, tickling something,
distracting... To be sure, her other assets were equally impossible to deny, drawing the eye thither. Her
motions were sinuous, almost designed to entice, and something about the way that her forked black
tongue flickered in particular... There was something in the air coming off of the horned girl,
something earthy but sweet and thick like a musky perfume, with a complicated smoky undercurrent of
truffles, though neither actually perfume nor cloying in its presence; it pulled at Peach, weighed at her
eyelids while speeding her pulse, tugging at the back of her skull, her body responding to it on multiple
levels.
At this point, Peach could still hear the band playing, but was too overwhelmed with sensations to
pay it much attention.
“...honey came in and she caught me red-handed

creeping with the girl next door,
picture this we were both butt naked,
banging on the bathroom floor...”
Peach turned to Tetra quickly and asked if they could dance, pulling at her hand, away from the
dancers, a note of near-desperation in her voice.
“Gi' 'er a dance,” Tetra said, dropping twenty rupees onto the table, “an' see tha' it's a good one, tha'
she really does enjoy 'erself, immensely – jus' no' qui' comple'ly,” her eyes carefully holding the
dancers' eyes firmly for a second or two each, as forty more rupees joined the first twenty.
Turning to Peach, Tetra replied loudly, “Oh, an' we'll be dancin' tonigh' ool'righ' darlin', bu' th' only
dance ahm intereste' in is th' pelvic thrust!” She burrowed her face into Peach's cleavage, humming
loudly as she shook her head vigorously back and forth, then headed to the bar.
Peach, her head still spinning from Zelda's attentions, paid little heed as the dancers climbed over her,
one writhing in her lap, another dancing behind her and running her hands over Peach's hair and bust,
the third putting on an extremely detailed and interactive show for her. For most of a night's pay each,
and all for just a single dance, the dancers put forth their best efforts, their bodies made lithe by Tetra's
inducement. Peach found herself caught up in it all, returning the dancers' slow kisses and most
intimate caresses, writhing with them ever so slightly as their gentle probing and ministrations left
nothing unattended. Soon enough though, she observed the men's great interest in them and asked the
dancers in a distracted manner how they managed that and how they would go about capturing a
woman's interest. The intriguing horned one with her tongue wrapped around Peach's ear paused to
whisper her answer, then nibbled her earlobe as she pressed herself to Peach's side, her heat and
moisture pressing into the back of Peach's hand as she slid one of her own hands between Peach's
thighs, the other manipulating pressure points first beneath her armpit and then up her spine to the base
of her skull, eliciting a gasp from Peach as she lost herself in the moment, heat and pressure building
within her. Every point that the horned girl had so far touched burned still with a need as if that touch
remained.
Tetra made a show of checking her coin purses and pockets, her look becoming that of one who is soon
to be completely out of money.
“Pisser?” she called out through the row of stools to the bartender. He jerked his head back and to
the left.
She headed to the back, skipping the stalls and checking the door and the alleyway behind it.
Satisfied, she returned to the bar.
Tetra announced loudly to the drunks at the bar “Foon' tha' one purloinin' a turnip o' all things! I don'
need tae tell ye where she 'ad i' 'id! A marquise e'en, and ha' ye e'er set your eyes 'pon a fuyner pair o'
teats? She could feed a small tone wi' those! Barkeep, la'y look ha' smiled doan on me this day – a jug
o' yore fuynest grogged lager!” pantomiming an exaggerated negative and stage-whispering loudly
“'o'se ale!”
The bartender glanced over to Peach, still buried in writhing dancers, “Really believe she's a
marquise?” he asked.
Tetra roared with laughter, “Baroness more like, an' tha' only jus' maybe. Methinks she's ne'er so
much as seen a marquise's chambermaid, but I'll believe 'er if she say's she's bloody Warbotdorf hi'self
– long as she gives good 'ead! I can' wai' tae see if the cuffs match the collar! Ahh, and she's a juicy
one, eh? Arroz con gandules ne'er missed 'er!” She laughed again.
Tetra caught Peach's eye and blew her a kiss, “I'n' tha' righ', Squishy-poos?” Tetra called out, and
laughed hardily.
She returned to her over-loud conversation with the bartender, “A turnip, if ye c'n believe i'. A
turnip! I mean, 'o purloins a turnip?!?”
A man sidled up next to Tetra carefully. Brown fedora, bushy off-black eyebrows, two-day-old five
o'clock shadow, mustard-yellow tweed jacket with broad lapels, red shirt with large white hibiscus
print, braided bolo tied near the collar with a cheap clasp, long off-lime shorts, socks and sandals, and
something the quality of which fell short of cheap cologne and clashed with his even cheaper cigar. He
put Tetra in mind of a used-car race bookie down on his luck.
The bartender suddenly remembered some mugs at the other end of the bar.
“Waiting for someone,” the man said, snapping his fingers a few times, “Godot innit?”
“Nobo'y wai's for Godot.” she replied.
Rallying, he suggested “Maybe he should wait for them.”
“ 'e should ha' wai'ed yesterday.”
“Maybe he'll wait tomorrow.”
“Oh, aye,” she replied derisively, then observed “sounds like a real God-in-potty.”
Contact established, signs and countersigns exchanged.
The man in tweed introduced himself, pitching it just loud enough for others to overhear, but not
quite so loud as to reach the tables. “Party? Say no more, madam, say no more! Gordon Shumway –
everybody just calls me Mister Tweed – at your service, purveyor of fine goods to enhance your
experience with the lady.”
Tetra glanced toward Peach, who was by then chatting with the dancers.
“Ah, well no'. A small poin' o' order. I migh' no' be qui' as flush wi' funds as I made ou' tae be. In
actu'l poin' o' fac', this magnificen' celebration rep'resents the las' o' me pe'y cash.”
The several other listeners lost interest entirely.
Mister Tweed gave her a sidelong glance and said “No problem, perhaps we can come to some
alternative method of payment,” as he steepled his fingers and nodded his head upward, casting his
eyes toward Peach.
As they went upstairs, ale forgotten on the table with the dancers, Peach heard the band still, the song
fading.
“Ooh, I want you to stay;

ooh, I want you today;
I'm ready for love,
oh baby, I'm ready for love;
ready for love,
oh baby, I'm ready for love...”
In a rather spare room in the building next door to the Flock of Geese, adjoined by a concealed hallway,
Tetra discussed business with Mister Tweed revolving around finances, the logistics of a pirate ship
named Nazgûl, and the latest movements of Warbotdorf's lieutenants.
As Tetra headed to the toilet, Peach asked Mr. Tweed about his “enhancements” – she'd heard at
least that much – and if there were someplace to get something to eat.
He says that he'll have the kitchen send something up, and that he has everything under the sun, and
a few things that aren't. Hells, he even has some bridesbane with him right now. What's her pleasure?
She says bridesbane. He asks if she's familiar with it. She runs over it in her mind: an analgesic and
mild soporific with some euphoric effects. She assures him that she is. He gives her a tiny vial with
thirty or so granules in it, glances at her as if calculating, and says that one or two at a time should be
enough, three at the most, and she'll be in paradise. She nods and asks how much she owes him. He
waves a hand and says to forget about it, it's cheap as hell to make and can easily be thrown into the
bookkeeping under ship's operations. She guesses that the little jar would run perhaps three mushroom
coins or less at a chemist's shop, so gives in.
Tetra comes back, sees Mr. Tweed out. He thanks her for her business and calls out to enjoy their
bridesbane, then has the passing chambermaid go for the ladies' dinner.
Dinner arrives. Curried döner kebabs with chorizo and a gallon of Guinness. Tetra hits on the
serving wench, then pulls at the girl's neckline and peers down her shirt. The wench scurries off
rapidly and Tetra gives her a sound slap to her ass on the way out, leering with great appreciation at the
ripple that this produces.
P drops four granules into Tetra's drink, and accidentally makes it six, but that should present no
problems. She offers it to Tetra, along with a back rub.
Blackness.
Sudden crystal clear consciousness.

Zelda's vision adjusts. “What... are you wearing? Usamimi?”
P: Stuff in dresser was all that they had.
Faded rich purple with emerald piping and tacky red-and-gold tassels over her nipples and pink
bunny ears sprouting from her hair. There was even a white puffball of a tail. She actually managed to
wear it with simple elegance.
It was obvious that she'd been crying. Her eyes were swollen and bloodshot, her face puffy. Now,
only relief flooded her expression.
Z: “I feel as if a two ton leprechaun were tap dancing on the bridge of my nose...”
Stretch. Gasp. Quiver.
P: Explains about the previous night, with the bridesbane. Kept making weird noises, touching and
poking herself all over. Checked her fever many times; last check woke her, Z dragged P's hand into
her crotch, squeezed legs together really tight and kept it there for a few minutes while you moved
around. Slippery, thought wet bed a bit but it just like her scent, sweet with a hint of cinnamon, and
really slippery.
Zelda turns her head sharply, looking intently at Peach: “You can smell that?” After a moment of
thought, “Wait, you... tasted it?”
P: (Nods) Uh-huh, you've always smelled like that. But then you didn't wake up through most of the
fever, and then collapsed so deeply after the one time that you did come to, and I was afraid that I had
killed you, and you just hadn't died yet, and... and... (tears form and she sniffles)
Z: you said that you got the bridesbane from Mister Tweed.
P: nods again and sniffles miserably.
Z: Peach,
P: eyes shoot wide, everything else in the world forgotten.
Z: the stuff that he sells is street-grade material, not the kiddie-aspirin that you're familiar with. This
stuff would knock a donkey on its ass, no pun intended. It's generally used by surgeons, truly desperate
housewives, rapists, and inventive burglars – and idiots at parties. The exact effects vary some, but at
this concentration, it heightens the senses to incredible levels, stimulates the libido, causes certain
cravings, mostly a need to satisfy others' wants, induces a degree of empathic contact, usually amps up
their energy levels for several hours, suppresses the frontal cortex severely and releasing any inhibition,
and saps individual will, making the person highly suggestible. Side effect is pretty much total amnesia.
Small amounts taken every few weeks mean nothing; larger doses any more often, and it's pretty
addictive. You couldn't have known.
...and from that, I'd say that it might cause severe rambling – you're sure you've never used it
yourself?
P: that's the first time that you've called me by name!
Z: (smiles) Aye, and I suppose it is, Princess, but that's what you took away from what I said just
now?
P just sits there glowing happily.
Z: Well, at least it's over and done with, mostly.
P: glances around the room, avoiding the statement.
Z fixes her gaze on P. “So. How much of this stuff did you get?”
P: Not much, really. Maybe a few dozen grains.
Z: A few... dozen?
P nods.
Z mouth gapes: Fuck me! That's worth at least three hundred, maybe four hundred fifty rupees
minimum, even here.
P confused: No, not more than a few rupees at best.
Z: Oh honey, no. (smiles at P's innocence) Not this stuff.
P: But he said that it was so inexpensive to manufacture!
Z: People lie, but in this case he wasn't lying. It's cheap to make, but it sells at a very dear price. Not
so much from rarity, or even supply-control greed in the face of high volume, as strong demand from
those who seek it.
P: “Maybe if I danced for you again later, you might feel better? My butt's still really, really sore right
now, but you really liked it a lot, so m-maybe I could do that again, and you'd be distracted by it, and
then maybe you'd feel better. You could even hold on some more that same way all you want, to make
sure that I don't fall. Or I could even do it right now, if you think that it might make you feel any
better.”
Z: “We danced last night?”
P: “No. You asked me to dance for you. You called it exotic. I wriggled around above you and tried
not to smother you. You held onto my waist and hips and legs to make sure that I wouldn't fall off, and
then you said that you wanted a six-pack, but you didn't get anything to drink, you just moved your
hand down a bit... behind me... and got a better hold of me instead – a... much... better hold – a-and I
danced for you a bit more, and then you said that you wanted a twelve pack, but you still didn't get
anything to drink, you just... moved your other hand around me and... umm... got an even better hold...
and so I just danced for you for another half hour or so, and that's why my butt still hurts so much right
now.”
“You're sweet, but perhaps another time.”
Peach wrings her hands.
“O.K., I get it. I turned into the eat-me-beat-me girl – or rather, I used you as my own little personal-
eat-me-beat-me girl.”
“You're not angry?”
“Me? No. It's safe to say that I'm still suffering the effects of last night. I feel as if I'm floating, with
a content disposition toward everything, and I'm really fucking horn– never mind that. Look, you made
an honest mistake. I forgive you. Just never again drug me without permission, unless there's a medical
necessity, and we'll be fine.
“Besides, from the sound of it, I'm the one who should be apologizing to you. I defiled you. I'm
sorry – I don't feel sorry right now, but I certainly will once this wears off.”
“We're O.K.?”
“We're more than O.K., sweetie,” Zelda tells her.
P squeals, pounces on Z.
Z screams and spasms, clawing her nails down P's back. Her nails cause P to arch her back, her body
moving against Z in turn, inducing a vicious cycle.
Z: Don't move. Especially your leg. Don't even breathe for a few minutes, either. I'm not kidding.
Those tassels of yours are right on my... Look, I'm still a bit sensitive from last night, and even their
tiniest movements are really hard to ignore. Just don't do anything for a while. Maybe an hour. Maybe
not 'til tomorrow. That would be bad. Good. Very good – oh sweet Nayru, it would be fucking
phenomenal – but very bad.
P: Did I hurt you?
Z: chokes down laugh, spasms some more. Lets out a staccato “Ga-aa-ah...!”
Z: No. By all of the Gods and every sage, no! Very much the opposite. The leprechaun is gone. Now
please stop moving.

P: Which leg?
Z: the one in the middle. Please. Rest now; be still, unless you want the world's biggest, darkest
hickey.
P: Got it. What's a hickey?
Z: Laughs, spasms strongly, biting P's shoulder hard enough that she drew blood and digging her
nails deep into P's back, P arching back again, starting the whole cycle anew.
Zelda inspected Peach's face, traced her tears, wiped away the snot. “You're still here, after all of that,
and you were worried for me.”
She brushed her fingers over Peach's lips. Warmth stirred within Peach's loins. As Zelda's fingers
traced their way down Peach's neck, a shiver ran down her spine.
All of these years in darkness, and this girl's light makes them fall away so causally and she doesn't
even know it.
Peach bit her lip. “You said that this version of bridesbane causes some kind of empathic contact and
a need to makes other people happy, right? So, what happened?”
Zelda nodded. “I've been thinking the same thing. My best guess is that I felt your need to make me
happy, and it all just amplified, like a feedback loop. I used you to satisfy myself. I'm sorry.”
“Don't be,” Peach said, “I just want to make you happy.”
Zelda gazed at Peach, for once not torn by other thoughts.
P: What does 'chulita' mean?

Z: Did I say 'chulita' or 'chuleta'?
<P unsure of which>
Z: well, in either case... it's a term of endearment.
P: meaning?
Z sighs: it expresses appreciation of a woman's soft curviness, the size and shape of her body, her
softness, and... it implies... a certain degree of attraction... and... some affection toward her.
P: affection?
Z looks elsewhere.
P: What about 'chupame'?
Z: “Not the time for language lessons,” she says hurriedly.
P is quiet for a bit.
“One last question. What did you mean when you said 'Ich bin heiß; fick mich!' and then something
about how you 'met this embarrassed little marooned monkey ape, wee busy mountaineer'?”
“Embarrassed little... wait – 'Mes Déesses, embrasse l'oeil marron de mon cul – et puis baise mon
trou noir!'?”
“Yes, that was it! You said that, and it sounded kind of like you were pleading, as if you were really
desperate for something, and then you mooned me and pointed straight at your–”
“Focus, Princess. We're getting way off topic here.”
Peach squinted one eye and arched her other eyebrow in suspicion, but didn't say anything about it.
“I won't bite, you know.”
“Pity...” Zelda thought aloud, just enough that Peach caught it.
Time passed slowly. Zelda meditated while Peach lay still atop her, just gazing and thinking.
Just lying here breathing is calming. Sharing our air, our breath. I could do this forever.
Her eyes are so beautiful. Closed right now, but I can picture them so easily. So deep a violet that
you almost lose focus on them, their hint of epicanthic fold surrounding them in a lovely frame. Her
own were a vibrant blue with highlights of copper and emerald, but Zelda's were truly something to
behold. I could stare into them for hours and never notice the time pass by. Her smile too, the way that
it comes so freely and so full when she laughs. And the curve of her neck – how my face almost
perfectly fits there. And her body's just so svelte; I would so dearly love to run my hands across every
inch of her, lick her taut belly, kiss and nibble her all over...
Nipples. In stark contrast to her own bright pink, Zelda's were large and dark. Large in being both
thick and prominent, they were forever hard and made all the more prominent by puffy areolae. The
combined effect stood out to such an extent that it was hard not to notice them even under thick
clothing, much less pressing against her as they were now. Her breasts are so small that I could cup
them easily – if I dared – and with such a lovely a quiver to them, begging to be suckled. Her buttocks
likewise so small and firm, with their gentle curve, her cheeks never quite meeting, everything so
tantalizingly exposed. Peach's hands clenched slowly of their own accord, as if to squeeze Zelda's
muscular cheeks, and the thought of trying to pry them still farther apart prompted an image to leap to
mind unbidden.
Her hands. They aren't rough, exactly, just... hard. Tough. Whenever her palms touch me, it feels like
the soft texture of suede stiffened to immobility. But her hands are always warm. Gentle. Her arms are
so powerful, but they never crush me or hurt me at all, and their stiffness is belied by her smooth,
supple skin – not precisely soft, but soft in its own way. It rides her muscles like a velvet coating over
granite; not actually all bulging, but so toned and clearly muscular. Where their bodies met was like
night and day. Peach's a milky skin, almost porcelain but for some faint scattering of freckles, where
Zelda's was hard to pin down; not quite a light chocolate, but not quite golden either, and with a pale
tinge of almost dark olive green to it.
Her ears are just so cute, too, the way that they slide and curve so gracefully to perfect little points.
And she always smells so nice, so... perfectly right. Even unbathed for days and drenched in sweat.
Especially then. I can just imagine sliding around all over her, her sweat covering me, making us both
so slippery... And her armpits are so perfect to nuzzle in and fall asleep to. Her left armpit was Peach's
favorite. Breathing it in lent her wings of eiderdown, carrying her gently to some serene place deep
within. Simply thinking of this brought a smile unbidden to her face.
Zelda opened her eyes to find Peach staring into them unaware.
“In a little while I will be sufficiently braced. When I tell you to, you will then leap off of me as if I
were ablaze. Do you understand?”
“I understand affection,” Peach replied, smiling softly as she bent her neck slowly downward.
Zelda remained still, disbelieving of Peach's intention, anticipation robbing her of the will to look
away.
The kiss was electrifying.
They lingered, time floating inchoate, the room having fallen away.
Peach grinned mischievously and shimmied backward, her thigh pressing down and sliding along
Zelda's crotch in the process.
That was no accident.
Zelda was still so lightheaded, swimming from Peach's demeanor, that she was only distantly aware
of the tingling release.
Huge jug of juice – mixed guava, papaya, guanábana, and a little bit of mango – left at door earlier in
the morning. Still chilled now.
Z: “I keep waking up naked with no memory of what we've done. This is getting to be a habit
around you.”
Tetra's ship, Nazgûl, is someplace in the archipelagos. Preparations shouldn't be long, but still two
weeks at best.
P: Dead eight years, you need a vacation, and nobody will recognize you. You've been showing me
your world for months now; now let me bring you back to my world, if only briefly on a date.
Z: And you wouldn't be ashamed of being seen in public with me? Embarrassed, mortified – utterly
humiliated? Would not your friends find the presence of my uncouth manner unbefitting of their
station?
P's face falls, hurting again for Z. The worst of it is that Z asks without rancor, fully resigned to
either rejection or being lied to.
P reaches over and takes Z's hand, shaking her head, “Never,” she says, as she looks into Z's eyes.
Z's eyes seem to harden, searching P's face warily, but she accedes.
Highstreet ran east and west along the northern crescent-end of the bay, crossing both mouths of the
river with broad and ornate marble bridges crowned with ironwork stained glass gaslights that ran
continuously through rain or shine. It wasn't so much the individual street that it was named for as an
entire district unto itself, though it might have been better named Cherry Street for its ubiquitous trees,
while the same could be said of the profusion of poppies and Japanese yews.
Peach took Zelda straight to a salon, under the name of Impa. The cherry trees along their path were
just beginning to peak in their bloom; as Zelda marveled at their beauty, she felt a præternatural pull, as
if the gentle hint of destiny accepted were on the wind. It was a perfect moment, the perfume of the
blossoms in the air as they drifted on the breeze. Zelda looked toward Peach just as one perfect
blossom landed in her hair. She's perfect, too.
They walked in, Peach holding Zelda's hand with a proud and content smile.
Zelda now trailed slightly behind, acutely aware of just how publicly Peach was holding her hand,
declaring to the world that they were together. The cultural habits were still buried within her, albeit in
need of dusting, and she knew that she would likely be able to handle things with decorum, but Peach's
clear display of care and attention made her nervous.
What if this is just a ploy? Nay, she's never used a single ploy the whole time I've known her... she's
always been naught but forthright and pellucid.
Shit – what if this is no ploy then, standing full legitimate in its stead?!? Wait, that would be good
though... would it not?
Oh, crap, no – what if I fuck it all up? ¡Coño...!
The maître domo recognized Peach, carefully ignoring their clothing and nigh-palpable stench.
M: Ahh, princess, we'd heard of your recent troubles with some rebels; so glad to see that you're safe
once more.
P: Rebels...? Oh. Yeah, it was horrible – the trauma! I might never recover! Can my, umm...
<cough> niece and I get a few Zima-Malibu spritzers – sparkling, if you have it? With raspberries?
We're all schleppy right now, and that'd be just so fabu.
P-to-Z, low aside: now they'll simply assume that I've been on some runaway vacation with my
latest boy toy... which isn't actually as far from the truth as I had intended. That should occupy the
rumor mill quite nicely. (Smile and wink.)
M: Charge to House Toadstool?
P: (dismayed brat attitude) Duh! No, wait – House Sarasa. (Smug look on her face)
P-to-Z-w/-M, inspecting nails and pursing lips: That will show Daisy! Oh, and I will be withdrawing
two thous... no, four thousand mushroom coins under the same account3.
M: Of course.
P-to-Z-w/o-M: My cousin and I use it as a quick and easy way of letting each other know where we
are. We just charge things to each other's accounts under our own authority.
Z laughs. Ever wonder why they bother with the coins and don't just call them mushroom stamps
and have done with it?
P gives her a look of incomprehension.
Z holds up her hand. Never mind, forget I said anything.
After shopping, hit onsen (deep massage, masseuses' perfume cloying to their noses after so long
away in the wilds – masseuses see P's nail-torn back and exchange knowing smirks, Z grows
exasperated with her ineffectual masseuse's gentle pawing, and after repeated attempts to obtain a
practical result from the eye candy [and two warnings that her hands weren't to stray, else she'd lose
them], finally lands a gnarly old masseur for deeply-knuckled massage [very old, half-Dwarf with some
Human and Orcish features] – lychee mimosas, several baths, mani-pedi, peel), light lunch at an open
cafe (bagna càuda with French bread, crab bisque [with shallots, chervil, capers, and floating a
teaspoon of ikura], a small shared entrée of paella, a main course of rice with raisins and steamed
3 Princess Peach: estimated to have a net worth of $1.3-1.7B [2007 USD], IAW Forbes (Dec 2007); no mention is made of how much
is liquid versus tied up in assets and/or investments. Taking a uniform distribution as a starting point, this would set her at equal
amounts of $0.43-0.56B each (cash/credit, collateral assets, & stock/bond/mutual investments).
For comparison: assume that you have $1,000 in the bank. Her withdrawal of M4k is equivalent to you withdrawing ≤$0.01 (i.e.:
one penny). This obviously depends upon just how much you really do have at your disposal, how accurate Forbes' estimation was (or
more to the point: how much she actually has immediately available), and her actual portfolio, just as her M4k is quoted in the
narrative on the assumption of a $1:M1 purchasing-power equivalence.
Her net worth isn't within even a magnitude of the top ten billionaires of 2007 (for a given month, she'd be in the top ~754 - ~583 by
Forbes's Aug 2007 rankings), and even if we assume that the Light World population of ~400M scales back the billionaires' potential
resources linearly (just for argument's sake, since this is ridiculous), then she'd still be ~0.7 of the tenth's net worth; i.e.: working from
a very sketchy framework, she's probably not in Light World's top ten. By a similar token, estimating historical figures' wealth is an
exercise in futility, but you might contrast her 2007 net worth with that of the richest in history as given by different sources; she's far,
far behind them, too.
I can't find similar data on Zelda's estimated net worth, and the estimated purchasing power of dollars and rupees seems to me to
vary by a factor of ten or more (made worse by in-game inflation over a period of multiple games), but we can at least start from the
fact that there's certainly a castle. Based upon a brief skimming over of similar castles, I'm guessing the Ocarina of Time version (my
favorite) at ~$15M-$20M. Movoto estimates it at $113,807,400. Presumably she owns more than this, and has some form of liquid
income, etc..
If we assume an annual income of 3.5x (based upon U.S. loan rates of 3x and U.K. of 4x) this property value, then Zelda's would-
have-been annual income might reasonably be estimated as ~$60M or ~$0.4B (this latter at least being comparable to Peach's own).
Adjusting from 2013 dollars [Movato] to 2007 dollars [Forbes], sees her income as perhaps-having-been ~$53M or ~$0.36B.
vegetables and a side of several thin slices of orange brisket, green tea, and a generously apportioned
dessert of plátanos maduros), a musical play about cats (Peach cried, Zelda cried, Peach cried even
more because of Zelda's crying), dinner at Les Jardins de la Cuisine Très Haute (relatively small
portions, but so many: mixed boršč with feta, risotto e porcini al Parmigiano-Reggiano doppio, salad
with various cuts of maguro and goose trimmings, tortellini di gamberi in burro di pomodoro e
calamari alla marinara, braised tenderloin with lobster that swam in Roquefort beurre noisette, several
slices of duck with a honeyed brown Dijon and artichoke hearts, a fatty chunk of pernil asado,
hazelnut-raspberry profiteroles, cappuccino with almond-anisette biscotti, cardamom milk pudding
with wintergreen, tea, tiramisù, and an appropriate wine with each dish), carriage ride along High
Gardens canal with a small carton of ikayaki and anago to share and box of candied flowers and
baklavá for later.
Z: Goddesses, Princess, I'll be working off that dinner for a month. There were more calories in a
single dish than I eat in most days!
P: Of course there were; how do you think I maintain my girlish figure? The one that you like so
much... (Dips head coquettishly and squeezes elbows together just beneath her cleavage, dimples
bursting around her smile.)
Z resists for a moment, then leans in and holds her close, breathing in the scent of her hair as they
gaze out across the moonlit flowers and the stars.
Mimosa leaves curl back, promising rain soon to follow. Peach remarks on this, and Zelda raises her
brow in agreement and approval of Peach's observation and conclusion.
The carriage eventually deposited them at a large, upscale hotel by the name of The Chandler. Zelda
looked askance to Peach, who explained that she'd booked ahead from the salon that morning, and had
had a word with the coachman before their ride.
The elevator deposited them at the private entrance to a penthouse honeymoon suite.
As Zelda stepped out, she and the two security men tensed at one another, not quite squaring off.
Peach had slight forewarning between Zelda's body language and the air currents carrying a whiff of
at least two male Human body scents, hence upon stepping out she immediately put her back mostly to
Zelda and dropped somewhat low to the ground, her body relaxed, her left leg leading straight and
pointing toward the nearest guard in a fú hǔ bù stance modified for closer quarters than preferred, her
left hand forming a middle fore-knuckle variant of a Phoenix Eye fist, her right something between a
Snake and a Tiger Claw, almost an Eagle Claw, his clear view of it obfuscated by her left hand's
presence and her right hand's sinuous weaving, all the while moving in a slightly drunken manner and
focusing her chi. She couldn't tell if he recognized any of the specifics, but she could see his pupils
dilate in surprise, recognizing her bearing as royal and her form as professionally trained.
The bellhop walked into this scene and froze.
Zelda lifted the room's keycard slowly.
The guards inclined their heads and resumed their regular positions.
Upon entering in their room, Zelda poured the bellhop a drink and handed him a fifty mushroom
coin for his discomfort. After a second drink, he left, and she and Peach swept the perimeter.
“Earlier, in the lobby,” Peach began, “why didn't you react?”
Zelda glanced at her and drew a breath.
“Sometimes it's not about fighting,” she said, “aside from the fact that they were apparently only
doing their jobs – which I didn't simply accept as a given – the best fight is the one that you don't have.
“Besides,” she continued after a moment, “had I assumed any stance at all, such as yours for
example, they'd have known immediately that I was a threat and responded accordingly. Not posing
any apparent threat, or even seeming willing to fight at all, keeps them off balance. You remember what
we've taught you, hmm? The SigInt that Sonic never shuts up about, and being a gray man? Fight
without fighting, react like water to whatever arises without first becoming anything. Stances are good
and have their uses, but mostly when seeking to drive away a minor threat that you don't wish to harm
or kill, or if it's some creature that's too unaware or self-centered for a stance to telegraph your intent to
it.”
White Zinfandel awaited them.

They bathed, Peach scrubbing Zelda's back, then massaging her. The water was subtly scented, soft
with lotions and oils. Candles surrounded them. Zelda had a large snifter of thirty year old blackberry
Armagnac with smoky hints of pomegranate, lighting a cigar and sharing it with Peach. Her hands
forming a tube, she exhaled as Peach inhaled. This thrilled Peach to no end, breathing in Zelda's breath
directly, more intimate than any kiss, bringing an idea of her own to mind. Her eyes glassy, she eased
herself onto Zelda's lap, reveling in the sensation of sliding across Zelda's slick body. Locking her
limbs around Zelda's torso, she kissed her, sucking the smoke straight from her mouth. Zelda rode this
feeling, their tongues soon dancing, a wanton croon coming from Peach.
“Mmm, sloppy kisses... 'In vino veritas,' indeed...” Zelda murmured.
“Hmm?” Peach asked.
Zelda didn't answer, pulling her back in for more, her arms fitting around Peach's waist as if they'd
been built for each other, molding themselves to her curves, her broad hips the perfect size, Peach's
breasts squeezed tight against her own. Lowering her head slightly and tilting it, she wrapped her teeth
firmly around the side of Peach's throat, exerting just enough pressure to cause Peach to moan. As she
held Peach thus, she caught hold of Peach's wrists, pushing them forward, behind Peach's back,
scraping her nails lightly along their sensitive inner surfaces.
Her lower back is so perfect, I could so happily lick it, eat from it... oh, sweet Nayru, that tongue!
And her thighs! Her waist and the flair of her hips, so smooth and well-rounded... she truly is as soft
and squishy as I said of her at The Gull – mmh, and her lovely golden downy thatch...
She growled at the song playing softly on the intervision.
“The world was on fire and no one could save me but you;
it's strange what desire will make foolish people do;
I'd never dreamed that I'd meet somebody like you,
and I'd never dreamed that I'd lose somebody like you...”
The tub was large, able to sit six, yet deep as it was, it was still full, the overspill draining at the base
of the tub where it met the tile surrounds. This put their heads just above the water level, and with
Peach sitting in Zelda's lap, her breasts were floating just beneath Zelda's chin.
“El mundo estaba en llamas, nadie podía salvarme sino tú...” Zelda murmured, breathing it out more
as a thick, half-conscious string of syllables from the back of her throat than actual language. Even so,
or perhaps because of this, it communicated her focus clearly.
Peach moaned in anticipation at this.
“Es extraño lo que el deseo hará que la gente tonta haga...”
Nayru, she's so soft and lush.
Zelda lowered her head further and brushed her cheek across Peach's breasts, sending waves of hot
chills coursing through Peach's body. She trailed her fingers down Peach's back, tickling her ass as she
wandered lower still, eventually teasing her rear opening. Peach arched her back, pressing herself
against Zelda's belly, gasping.
“Irie I, man...” Zelda remarked as they dried off. They now stood on a finished softwood floor with
tatami laid out in eye-pleasing simplicity. Peach blinked and nodded dreamily, her smile growing
broader.
The cigar's herbal ingredients were strong, as was the Armagnac, sending Peach's senses reeling
even further, and she floated through the next few hours with a smile on her face, giggling at times at
nothing but pure joy. Every cell of her body felt relaxed, glowing, warm and content.
Large bowls of strawberries and sugared heavy cream were delivered by room service, along with
an array of chocolates and a tray of oysters.
“Oysters?” Zelda asked.
Peach nodded, “I've heard that they're good for... certain things,” she replied as she wrapped her lips
around one and sucked the meat out, swallowing it whole.
“Aye... that's more of a guy thing, for cert – but I like them well enough, and I'll still enjoy watching
you eat them like that.”
Peach paused, a thoughtful look on her face, “What would make them a girl thing, then?”
Zelda was taken aback. “I've nary given it thought,” she admitted.
“I suppose that if you opened your mouth slightly...” Peach followed suit, “stuck your tongue
beneath the oyster and flicked it around a bit... slowly...” Peach continued as instructed, “and pressed it
gently between your tongue and lips...” she bobbed her head into it, her eyes intent on Zelda's
reactions, “then pulled it out slowly, teasing the meat from its shell,” Zelda watched as Peach held the
oyster in her palms, juices running from her lips and chin, down her throat.
“Again, but this time just wrap your lips around the meat itself, and tease it out with them,” Zelda
leaned forward, watching.
Peach felt warm all over, a tingling in her groin, and a buzzing happy feeling from Zelda's focused
attention. She didn't pick up the next oyster, instead bringing her mouth to the plate and licking the
oyster, caressing it with her tongue and lips. Zelda's eyes were fastened on her.
Peach slowly shifted her body around, giving Zelda a good view, then carefully pulling away. She
moved her face along the plate of oysters, rubbing her cheek and jaw across them. Kissing one, she
lifted it with only her lips.
This performance lasted through the end of the oysters.
Wrapped around each other on the sofa, they watched anime on the intervision for a few hours, the
room's stuttering, low-res A.I. named Max – a branch of the hotel's concierge A.I. – homing in on their
mood and tastes. He quipped and quibbled, fanning matters occasionally with risqué observations and
ribald jokes, a shifting background of varicolored geometric patterns on simple planes precessing at
random.
Peach is surprised to find that she has the munchies.
Zelda talks with Max and places a rush-order for two quarts of pork fried rice, two pizzas.
Z → P: Sicilian or Neapolitan?
P: umm... yes!
Z with heavy-everything
P: and an order of everything else on the side!
Z: …?
M: I'll have them put it into a bowl.
Z: and double-heavy anchovies and make the Sicilian triple-heavy quattro-formaggi, half a dozen
cheeseburgers with heavy bacon, fries with crumbled bacon and heavy cheese, cereal with fake syrup
no maple, and fried chicken skins. Oh, and some really massive omelettes of whatever you have,
slathered in Cholula.
P: Belgian waffles, too?
Z: And some Belgian waffles, tons of margarine and syrup.
P: Maybe some Hunan pepper steak?
Z: You get all of that?
M: Indubitably.
Z: can we get some really thick and strong sweet-and-salty garlic butter, too – maybe a quart or so?
P: and stuffed crust on the Neapolitan!
Z: and it had better be done right; semolina and oregano, loads of olive oil – and that doesn't mean
replace the sauce with the oil, so they'd best both be on it.
P: Mmm, and a tray of triple fried egg sandwiches with chili and chutney, and some curry for
dipping... and egg rolls, please! Mmm. Ooh, and lots and lots of duck sauce and soy sauce?
Z: triple fried egg... where'd you come up with that combo?
P: I've paid attention at the places we've been to, and a lot of drunks ordered those – and gyros or
kebabs – and it sounded like a really good idea just now.
Z: well, ye've truly the right of that, I must grant.
P: <gasp!> And some spicy Jamaican beef patties – and really greasy, buttery fried potato skins
with popcorn shrimp!
Max soon joined them in their indulgence, an algorithmic cigar affecting him similarly as they
switched to cartoons, his background having become a lava lamp, its pearls overlaying a shifting
opalescent moiré pattern. A nanny subroutine ensured that his state of mind didn't affect his attendance,
and would sober him instantly should the need arise, a similar security subroutine monitoring the active
and passive defenses throughout the suite.
Another cigar each, now so stoned that they'd forgotten cartoons and switched to a live action
romance movie while picking away at the leftovers.
They fell asleep in front of the intervision. The last thing that either heard as they nodded off in
each other's arms was the Cinderella-like heroine admonishing the prince with a quote from More's
“Utopia.”
“If you suffer your people to be ill-educated, and their manners to be

corrupted from their infancy, and then punish them for those crimes to
which their first education disposed them, what else is to be concluded,
sire, but that you first make thieves and then punish them?”
Zelda awoke in the middle of the night. The world was quiet and still as a cool breeze mixed with
warm air wafting in through the open balcony. The scent of hibiscus and petrichor carried through the
room. Gentle rain pattered without. Fat drops, slow roll of distant thunder. A movie played softly on
the intervision; noir scenes, flute music, a man folding paper into an origami unicorn.
Zelda returned from the bathroom, taking a comforter from the bed and nestled back on the sofa
between Peach's legs, resting her head between Peach's breasts. Peach's arm shifted, now lying across
Zelda's chest. Zelda laid her hand across Peach's, sighed once, contentedly, a warm fuzzy feeling
enveloping her once more, and slept again.
The imagery of the origami unicorn stayed with her, her dreams pleasant and unhaunted, but
carrying a wistful sense of foreboding, of never knowing how much time anyone has, or how much
time any two have together.
=====
The second day passed similarly.

They breakfasted on pierógi swimming in butter with salmon pâté spread over brown bread.
The day continued with lunch in a museum (tomato croque madame, stuffed mushrooms, black
forest cake), tuna-squid rolls in the botanical gardens.
Cut scene at Botanical Gardens: Peach enthralled by the lilacs and lilies; Aye, Z thought, watching
longingly, knowing that Peach didn't belong in her world, but their sweet scent pales before thine;
husker plays a slack string in the background.
“She walks every day

through the streets of New Orleans,
she's innocent and young,
from a family of means;
I have stood
many times
outside her window at night,
to struggle with my instinct
in the pale moonlight...”
With this song's melancholia heavy on her mind, Z thinks on what impoverished future she could
bring Peach, what she could possibly offer her.
Street fair with both green tea and red bean ice creams, a flea market with some pulp novels, orders
of fish and chips for an afternoon walk through the zoo (an order each eaten there, two more orders
each taken to go, with a bottle of malt vinegar of their own; P asks what type fish, Z says no idea and
that it never matters since they always all taste the same no matter where you buy it), and a picnic
basket that Peach had arranged on their way into the park late that afternoon.
More triple fried egg sandwiches with chili and chutney. Deviled eggs. Quiche Lorraine. Walnut
fudge.
“So... you like eggs much?” Zelda remarked.
“They're O.K., but no: you like them, and it all seemed to fit together just right. Now humor me,
silly.”
They walked through the park as night settled in, bags in hand, a satisfied glow surrounding them.
Shadows shifted.
Zelda guided them away from a cul-de-sac of statuary, heading instead toward a foot bridge's
underpass. They were discussing the philosophy of fighting, with a focus on situational awareness and
iaido. There was an important difference between them: one has the subject scanning their
surroundings, knowing why who's where, the other the readiness to act in an instant without thought or
hesitation.
“One thing to never forget, Princess...” Zelda said, pausing casually to reach for something.
A knife flew from her hand into the shadows to the left as her left leg jumped to where her right had
been and her right leg shot upward into the darkness to the other side. A meaty thunk to the left was
barely audible beneath a snapping sound to the right.
She returned to a neutral position, her eyes dead, staring ahead decidedly into a shadow identical to
the rest, “...is to know yourself, know your enemy, on deadly ground: fight...”
The shadow lost some of its substance, fading into the surrounding darkness. Two others did the
same. The air cooled a little, emptying.
Zelda crouched and retrieved her knife, wiping it off on the still form lying there.
“...and always watch what you're not looking at.”
=====
Third day. They slept late, and stayed in bed all morning and most of the afternoon.
Zelda awoke before Peach, early enough to talk with Max before Peach stirred.
As Peach returned from her shower, she found Zelda standing in the dining area before an array of
ingredients and a large hot pad. Their suite had a fully equipped kitchen, but Zelda had chosen the
dining area for a warmer and more relaxed atmosphere. The image that she presented was both cute
and disconcerting, since Peach had never imagined her wearing an apron, much less only an apron.
Zelda looked up from her preparations and smiled nervously, giving her a quick nod of greeting to
sit with her.
As Peach looked on, Zelda set some udong-myeon and quinoa to boil, while searing cabbage, goose
eggs, strips of pork belly, bean sprouts, batter, and soba, topping it all with drizzles of mayonnaise and
a thick, dark okonomi sauce, and finally flakes of nori, katsuobushi, and furikake sprinkled over it all.
The budae jjigae was done by this time, and Zelda ladled a large, shallow, wood bowl for each of
them. Peach looked into the pot to see kimchi, scallions, sliced sausage, beans, tofu, mushrooms, water
chestnuts, bamboo shoots, chunks of cassava, and stewed tomatoes all floating in a chili-miso broth of
kelp and garlic.
She watched all of this with fascination, finally turning to Zelda as she placed a few last minute
mandarin orange wedges and a couple of slices of cheese into each bowl and served them.
“This is the first time that you've ever cooked for me – I mean, beyond the rabbits and pheasants,”
she said with delight.
Zelda tensed up and twitched her head toward her shoulder with a short, tight smile, but said
nothing, concentrating instead on pouring saké asahi for them, then cleaning the hot pad for dessert.
Peach found that she was rather partial to saké, at least while it was hot. Though it had an obviously
high alcohol content, it was as smooth as the slightly apple-like tea that it smelled and even tasted like,
and slightly sweet, like jasmine tea. As a result, they went through almost a liter in short order as Zelda
made strawberry crêpes and cream.
Zelda looked pensive, almost saying something several times, only to hunch back down. Peach
wanted to ask what was on her mind, but left it to Zelda's discretion.
Finally Zelda's words tumbled out, as if having broken a barrier and now rushing forth for fear that
the wall might come down again before they fully escaped.
“I can make ye a fritata and pasteles sometime, and tostones, if ye'd like...?” she blurted and cringed,
wringing her hands rapidly in her lap, her eyes wide.
Peach's lip quivered as she smiled and laid her hand over Zelda's, whose entire body jerked in
reaction.
Her smile warmed as she drew Zelda a little closer.
“I'd be honored.”
Their heads still swimming, they opted for a late lunch of onion soup, spaghetti puttanesca, and multi-
layered crème brûlée before starting the day.
A swan-boat ride across the lake as evening began to set in.
Foot traffic thinned. Zelda watched multiple soldati appear quietly at the market's entrances. A
shadow from the rooftop moved along the ground in her periphery. They find themselves “invited” to
an audience with a local capo.
Escorted through Don Dirk's mansion, they reached a tastefully appointed library and were left to their
own devise. An assortment of weapons was on display in recessed niches, the mood well set by
tastefully subdued lighting cast from baffles along the front edges. Deep mahogany, polished teak, and
hunter green felt dominated the appointments, polished brass piping and pink marble drawing the eye
selectively. Two small crystal chandeliers hung along the midline of the ceiling, with light-toned
ancient oak beams opening the visual space a little further. The room itself was huge and airy though,
to such an extent that rather than weighing down on them, everything came together to accentuate the
room's features, as well as complementing one another.
They passed by a Krikkit bat, a complex looking whip sword, a three piece staff, a masterfully
executed repeating reflex crossbow with cams and a small out of place trébuchet on what would have
been its flight groove, a butterfly knife the size of a sword, an assortment of kusarigama, a strange
double-action pumped dart gun paired with a cutaway gun displaying a step-up gearbox and a
magazine feeding to a final surface-wheel with a traction face, a meteor hammer paired with a flying
guillotine, a small coilgun, and a short blunderbuss with a green warp-crystal attachment 4, among less
easily identified objects. Some unusual pieces of armor punctuated the displays. There was even a
cloak fighter's Dragoncloak among them. Peach paused to inspect a crescent sword with pointy bits at
each end and several more dotting its inner edge.
“It's called a betleH, Princess.”
“A bet-lekh?” Peach repeated.
“Close enough. It's extremely rare. A formidable weapon, in the right hands. Very few people ever
even see one. The luckiest of collectors, sometimes. Otherwise only extremely dange–”
“Ladies, welcome. I thank you for joining me.”
A neatly dressed gentleman stepped through the doorway, closing the doors behind himself. Zelda's
eyes wandered the library. Numerous books, several tables with well stuffed chairs, beautiful lamps, a
few large French windows along the southern wall with an ornate grandfather clock centered between
them, a pool table and a snooker table dominating one end alongside a disused carom table, a
Caravaggio hanging on the northern wall. No sign of security goons.
“Yes, please allow me to stress that you are free to leave at any time. There is also nobody here to
disturb us, and I don't think that we need fear one another at all.”
His voice cultured, his manners well met, there was still that air about him of something venomous.
“HeghluʻmeH QaQ jajvam!” Zelda spat out levelly.
“Qaplaʻ!” the man replied with aplomb, inclining his head in turn.
“Brandy?” he offered, as he poured a snifter for himself.
She declined for both of them.
“Château Lafite, 5787, perhaps? I should have known...”
Her eyes remained flat.
“The other night, there was a bit of an incident. Apparently, two men made an ill-advised attempt on
a pair of women in the park,” he began, “Oh, no need to fret. I'm told that the women came through
very well indeed. The same can't be said of the men.
“I heard about this through certain channels, and chose to meet you here in order to take your
measure. Will you be staying here in Freeport, then? The... syndicate here is broad minded. As long as
4 Blunderbuss: almost certainly Dwarven in make, though the warp-crystal modification begs the question of Skaven [rat people]
involvement.
everyone stays out of one another's business, one is free to do as one wishes. Our local constabulary
takes care of the riff-raff, and our appointed city staff runs the business of daily civilian operations to
keep things afloat.”
“We're still considering things,” Zelda replied, “we haven't yet settled on a firm decision, and would
keep our options open for now.”
Z to P: “If it seems like a good deal, walk away.”
Dinner. An up and coming theme restaurant called Rage. Having ordered, but considering their
alternatives while waiting, the houselights dimmed somewhat as the amphitheater stage was brought to
the fore.
They lost their appetites once they realized why it was called Rage. Beasts from all across the
realms were brought here to fight to their deaths as entertainment, before being served to the guests.
They left in disgust.
“What are your thoughts on ham and pineapple?” Zelda asked as they passed a hole in the wall
pizzeria.
It turned out that Peach had never had the pleasure, so Zelda dragged her in.
“There are two kinds of people in the world, Princess – those who like eating pineapple on their
pizza, and those who don't,” she told her as they waited for their pie, “Let's see which one you are...”
Over pizza and calzones at a middling place along the unofficial border between Highstreet and The
Downs, the air at their table redolent of anchovies and olives, offset with the sweet scents of pineapple
and ham, Peach had an inspiration: commandeer one of Daisy's pleasure schooners; she had quite a
few, and two of them were currently docked in Freeport.
They left the city en route to the docks the next morning.
Zelda had returned to her guise as Tetra, scars adorning her forearms, as well as some of her torso
and legs. Her knuckles and knees were a mess. All but a handful were frontal.
Peach was thinking about this when Tetra commented on them. “Showin' yore scars isn't necessary,
but you'll get no respec' o'erwise, an' then it's naught but constant arguin' and work tae get an'thin'
accomp'lished.”
Peach's eyes stray to Tetra's tattoo. Some strange symbols of vibrant red with velvety black outline,
all within a golden and silver torc around her clavicle and the bottom of her neck.
“It says 'What doesn't kill me just pisses me off.' Close to it anyway. Those guys who make the
betleH? Same language. The ac'chul words aren't the same, but it carries that attitude. I got the idea for
it from a romance novel. I've been thinkin' tae change it tae '...just means that something else will ',” she
said jokingly, even as her eyes gave lie to the light of her words.
“How do you do those tricks with your disguise?” Peach asked, her curiosity unbound this time.
Tetra chuckled, “You know how I light me cigars? I don't use the matches in the case, just me
thumb-tip for a simple cantrip. I don't like tae use heavier magic much because it's... let's call it 'noisy'.
Anythin' tha' ye do wi' magic can be 'heard' by o'er mages. These scars and the ink tha' ye see are the
real thing, no' a disguise. Norm'lly I le' a standin' spell cover it all, the be'er tae keep enemies off-guard
– and before you ask, aye, I'll teach ye, but ye should know what you're ge'in' into. One thing ye'll need
to know outright is tha' Orcs can smell a mere glamour; Gargoyles can see right through them, while
we're on the topic.”
“Are you a sorceress?”
“No!” Tetra barked, “I'm sorry, tha' was uncalled for. It wasn't you, it was me. No, I'm not... a
sorceress,” she continued, a brittleness entering her voice, “just a run-of-the-mill wizard.”
Peach remained quiet, thinking about it all, both in how it could affect her own life, and about how it
seemed to affect Zelda.
A quartet of kids was standing at a street corner outside of a large, crumbling shrine. Ragged, filthy,
clearly malnourished, they stood in the heat and sang a capella to any who would listen. No sign, just a
tattered hat on the ground.
“On The Turning Away

from the pale and downtrodden,
and the words they say
which we won't understand,
don't accept that what's happening

is just a case of others' suffering,
or you'll find that you're joining in
The Turning Away.
It's a sin that somehow

light is changing to shadow
and casting its shroud
over all we have known...”
One or two people stood around to listen, most seemed not to even see the group.
The hat lay empty and ignored.
Tetra stepped aside into a shrine. In the narthex, just before they reach the doors to the nave, Tetra
turned to Peach. “Wait here.”
Within the nave, forgotten people sat dejected.
Tetra searched for the cleric. Prowling silently through the short aisle, her very presence harsh and
powerful, people turned to her, some in fear, some in hope, most turned so far inward that they were
unaware of her at all.
Passing the transept, she espied him in a chapel beside the apse.
“Feed them!” she growled harshly, her voice raw, angry, as she forced her coin purse into his hands.
Her eyes were red and blazing as she left with Peach – not bloodshot with burst capillaries, but
actually dull-red of sclera – the air around her quite literally crackling with restrained energies,
throbbing almost tangibly. Her stride was practically furious, but at least she'd lost her foul mood from
moments before, settling now into mere grim determination. The wish to skewer those around her had
become merely a dull throb, more easily ignored than it had been before her chat with the cleric.
Peach noted that Tetra's purse was no longer at her belt, as others gave them a very wide berth.
O ~~~ O
Chapter 4: D
On schooner. Set sail along the strait.

It never occurred to either of them that there was sufficient space and no need that they must share a
room, much less a bed.
P looks through Z's magazines in their cabin. Manga of a number of genres, though mostly ecchi
and shōjo-ai with a few yuri, and nearly all were isekai. Some of them were practically anatomy
lessons and gymnastics courses. She studied them all, absorbing everything rapidly. They covered
fantasy, history, science fiction, but they had some themes in common – other worlds, love, satire, feats
of derring-do, philosophical questions and ethical dilemmas, an examination of the essence of living.
Quite often the characters behaved provocatively, teasingly, playfully, but just as often even this was
with an underlying innocence. The stories and the wildly varied and imaginative world settings
absolutely fascinated her, but it was the characters' actions and interactions, their behavior and
psychologies that truly drew her in.
The next day, P attempts to emulate the manga characters.

She flashes her a few times.
Surprises Z at the pool, coming up from behind her, throwing her arms around Z and giving her
breasts a huge hug with multiple hand-squeezings. Amaze each other with Z's power to sink
effortlessly, and P's ability to simply stay afloat. Z plays at being a lobster, crawling along the bottom,
worrying P with how long she stays under.
Handing a sandwich to Z, P “accidentally” overbalances, falls onto Z, and engulfs her in cleavage.
Having dropped her sunglasses to the floor, P reaches down to retrieve them, and waves her crotch
in Z's face.
As they take in some sun, P applies lotion to Z, paying extra attention to her ass, and “card swiping”
her (Z's head lurches up in startlement, her face a masque of surprise and uncertainty, hardly offended
by this, but certainly not having expected such an act on P's part; she opts to not make an issue of it for
the time being); when Z applies lotion to P, P waits and arches her back as Z reaches her lumbar curve
(Z commenting on the “elevator butt” motion), pushing back too far when Z reaches her crotch.
Z asks what the hell is going on, noting that P's been behaving strangely all day.
P explains that she wanted to know what Z liked, that she wanted to be more like what Z wants.
Z asks where she got all of this from.
P says that she'd talked with the dancers at the Gull and Fleece, and asked them how they attract a
woman's interest, and they'd said that it's the same as with anyone else, that beyond dinner and
blowjobs, she had to figure out what the woman liked, what interested her, what drove her in life. She
goes on about Z's “picture books” – Z interrupts to say that they're called “manga” – P amends what
she was saying to “mangas” – Z interrupts again to say that it's both singular and plural – P amends
again, continuing about how “...so many of the girls in them have huge boobs, though actually I guess
that I have that part covered pretty well, but they giggled a lot, and did – umm, y'know... these... umm,
things... together... though a lot of it I can't do since so many of them were pretty non-humanoid, b-but
I thought – I-I...”
Z: The girls in the manga? ¡Ay, mis Diosas, qué castigo, carajo y más que joder! Mira Peach,
corazón, they're just books. They're stories that I enjoy, and most of the girls are attractive to me, but it
doesn't mean that I'm in love with the characters or want to jump into bed with them! I like Sonic, but
you don't think I want him, do you?
P: Alright, but even if they're not what you want in a woman, you still have these... needs – right?
Just like the girls in your manga? You need to be touched all over, and kissed, and held and talked to,
and a bunch of other stuff like that, right?
Z: Yes – I mean no. <sighs, rubbing her palm down her forehead and pinching the bridge of her
nose> Yes, Princess, but not like that. It's not as simple as that. And they're not “needs”. Distracting
urges maybe, frustrating wants, but hardly needs. Is this what all of the food and everything was about?
The day-long dates in Freeport?
Z (frustrated, partly angry): When I slipped into your prison room in that castle, I could have been
anyone, yet you declared yourself for me in the moment. This isn't some fairy tale, Princess. You don't
just fall besmitten to some random schmuck who saves you from whatever's going on at the time and
go all U-Haul will ye, nill ye.
P: Anyone? Aren't all relationships – or anything else – bound to be either random or by design?
Z: You don't know me – who or what I am. I'm not fit company for anyone, and I've no wish to
sully you any further.
P: I've come to know a fair bit of you over the better part of a year, Zelda. It's true that I knew
nothing of you then, but I do now. Aside from what little you show of yourself within, it shines through
in your actions. You're kind. You care about people. You help the downtrodden and ill-fated. You stop
to pet and feed stray cats. You hide it all and deny it, but you're not some worthless bastard – and
though you lech, and there's no doubt of that, you're neither the rake nor the wastrel that you pretend to
be.
“I love you Zelda. I'm not going anywhere.”
Zelda's eyes were suddenly wet. Her breathing forgotten and stopped for a timeless moment, it
returned suddenly in short, sharp bouts, uneven. Her eyes wide and hurt, nostrils flared. A complex of
emotions wrestled across her face.
“Love. Want. Can't. Complicated,” she said haltingly in a choked voice. Her head moved strangely,
short quick motions as if trying to rid herself of a fly. Her shoulder twitched.
“Then make it simple. Please.”
Zelda looked at her.
“Thou know'st no' what thou ask, Princess,” Zelda sighed, her voice uneven as she gathered herself,
“You trust someone, maybe they don't stab you in the back, maybe they do. Luckily it's the same the
other way around, too. Sometimes you distrust someone and they have a heart of gold; sometimes
distrusting them was the smartest thing you've ever done. So you extend your trust warily, to some few,
and wait to see what happens. We all do. You never know which one is which, either – and I don't mean
that you don't know 'til you find out the hard way that they're nice or not, I mean that you can't ever
know, since what's true today gives no guarantee of tomorrow. Anyone can turn into your enemy, or
turn out to have had their hand against you from the get go – what in all of the Hells does 'the get go'
even mean, anyway; verdammte Sonic – in any event, 'tis the sword of Damocles... and our Achilles'
heel. Good attention is bad, because ye never know when it will be used against ye; bad attention is
good, because it's honest, ye always know where ye stand with it.
“When you have something to lose, and fear losing it, you've already lost – everything; when you
have nothing left to lose, you're free to do anything. Why do you think Ruru sometimes calls me
'Bakemono?' Partly because it's true, and partly as a reminder to Sonic,” Zelda told her, her eyes tight
and boring into Peach, her brow furrowed, “I don't... talk about the past for a reason; sometimes life
gets in the way. When you break your toe, you limp for a bit, but you don't whinge on about it for the
rest of your life.
“Do you know what the ugliest word is in any language? The single worst curse you could ever
bestow on anyone? The most hateful, painful state in existence? The last thing to die. Hope.”
Peach noted that Zelda's use of “Princess” had changed again, having become much softer now,
carrying a tone of something unidentifiable; it was almost reaching out to her, so completely at odds
with Zelda's aloof distancing. It made no sense, but she couldn't spare the attention to analyze it just
yet.
“That's... why... you don't want me,” Peach realized.
“Don't want–? Oh, sweet Nayru! Ye really are that blonde, aren't ye?”
=====
Peach held a package, looking up at Zelda. “You got me a present when we went shopping?”
Rubbing the back of her neck, Zelda tried to play it down. “Well, I got a few knives for myself, the
manga that you've looked through, a few other things,” her voice started at a normal volume, but
steadily decreased, until it was now only a mumble, “...and I might have kind of also gotten you some
baci – hazelnut chocolates – and a box of cherry cordials... and possibly a few pounds of marzipan...”
Peach removed the wrapping and looked within. A confused look crossed her face.
She lifted out a large men's flannel shirt, the arms flopping longer than her own, and looked back to
Zelda.
Zelda bit her thumbnail, then smiled nervously, her hair still a mess from the sea breeze.
“Humor me?” she asked, echoing Peach's words from the picnic as she wrung her fingers, “And
save the ribbons. I'd like to see you wearing just those at some point.”
Night. Peach drifting off to sleep, wearing the shirt that Zelda had gotten for her. Zelda's hand slides
hesitantly down Peach's side, fingers spreading across her hip, pausing in a circular pattern, repeating
this around her cheek, caressing the cleft of her ass. Peach pushes backward encouragingly, lifting
herself the tiniest bit as Zelda's hand slides in and finds a resting place deep between her cheeks, the
first knuckle of her pinkie finger nestling within Peach's anus, giving her a little goodnight-jiggle.
Peach smiles happily at this as her heart races. She squeezes her cheeks once around Zelda's hand.
Zelda's soft kiss brushes the nape of her neck, Peach snuggles backward into Zelda's form and sleep
embraces her while still lost in formless cottony thoughts of happiness.
Zelda lay there thinking. Soon she was only listening to Peach's soft cooing, her hand still
enveloped in Peach's cheeks, her fingertip periodically squeezed, honeysuckle perfuming her every
breath.
Zelda dreamt deep of years together with Peach. Starving together. Sleeping in the rain together.
Peach growing old before her time, harsh and bitter. Ruined.
Now she sat awake, utterly alone and shivering from a cold that she couldn't feel, yet couldn't shake.
As wonderful as Zelda felt from being with her, she feared far more what she couldn't give Peach. A
life worthy of her.
=====
Tired of heavy sauces and the continual flow of pastries, Zelda prowled the galley. “Is there no food
anywhere on this Goddess-damnable ship?” she demanded of the chef, “Real food – bread, meat,
cheese; beer. Maybe some apples?”
She looked all around, finding only flan, tembleque, cinnamon-raisin rice pudding, butterscotch
pudding, tapioca, pistachio custard, lemon sorbet, Key lime pie, pecan pie, and treacle-truffle cakes.
“Well,” the chef stammered, somewhat at a loss for direction, “today's lunch is chicken cordon bleu
with shiitake, and tonight we will be serving canard à l'orange, pancit, matar paneer masala, and
spinakopita; lunch tomorrow is manicotti and pork vindaloo with agua fresca followed by cannoli, and
tomorrow night there will be beef Wellington and Stroganov with smetana atop egg noodles and a
dessert of cherry tart. We were thinking of corned beef and cabbage at some point, but for now I fear
that aside from what you see here, all that we have ready is apple crumb strudel cream roll.”
“Apple? Ah-hah! So you do have real food hidden about here...”
=====
Toying with the bean sprouts and green onions in her phở gầu trứng vịt, Peach tells Zelda that they
might run into her cousin Daisy. It seems that she's usually down in the region at this time of year,
playing tourist in Meivitha, or partying in Yxorca. She asks that Zelda avoid the topic of Daisy's
contract harem.
Encounter Daisy on the third day.

When Daisy boards the schooner and sees them, she stands stock still, wearing a shocked-but-
knowing you-must-be-kidding look on face.
D: Peach – really? When did this become a thing?
Her vowels were broad and low, and her speech bore a rolling cadence, though it was far slower
than Peach's rapid fire paragraphs.
Peach and Zelda look to each other. “We're not –” they begin at the same time.
They stop short and begin again, “We haven't –” and “She isn't –”, and trail off.
“Ja, you so totally are! Oh, that was just adorable – you guys are so precious like that!”
Neither one says a word.
D: Instantly recognized you guys' coupleness. Your father will positively shit himself! Oh, you
know he'll get over it soon enough, but he won't be jazzed about the grandkids.
P: What grandkids?
D: Exactly. O-M-G, I'm so happy for you guys! Come here! Hugs! Now dish, how did you two
meet? How long have you been together?
Z stares.
As the hug came to a close, Daisy stood back and looked closely at Peach, then burst into a huge
smile again and pinched her cheeks.
D: Oh, that punim there!
Z continues to stare.
D: Hello? Tomboy. Boys are good, girls are better; both have their uses though, so a few of each is
best, and I'm hardly against other species... actually, I rather enjoy being “against” other species.
(Twitches nose licentiously at Zelda.) I clocked you in a heartbeat, honey, but I'm good at that. If
you're traveling incognito, then who am I to judge? It stays under wraps as far as I'm concerned.
(Shrugs.)
“Hey, don't worry about it. You gotta do you – or her...” Daisy winked at Peach, running her eyes
over Zelda, then gasped and covered her mouth in much-feigned surprise “...or me?”
Peach stood there, unmoving, her eyes wide and glassed over.
Zelda cleared her throat. “I'm afraid that you misunderstand, Your High Royal Highness. She and I
met at an affair late last summer, and I have been hounding her ever since – but alas, to no avail. She
yet resists my every overture.”
Daisy seemed to consider this. “Well, cuz' here always was a little prudish. You know, you can
always call me, if it doesn't work out...”
Peach managed somehow to both stiffen and shift imperceptibly closer to Zelda.
Zelda, for her part, seemed unfazed, clearly dismissing the suggestion out of hand.
“Well, it was worth a shot,” Daisy commented, “speaking of which,” her look now returning to
Peach, “seems I missed my chance with you. Mmm, wished I would've known, sug'...” She smiles
slightly, raising her eyebrow and holding her head at a slightly lowered angle, visibly running her
tongue across her teeth.
“Unless I can steal her away from you...?” Daisy looked directly at Zelda, but seemed to be talking
to Peach.
“Of course,” now looking at Peach, and seemingly talking to Zelda “you'll need to take your time.
You might surprise yourself with whatever you decide.
“Meanwhile, have you guys ever been to Yxorca? I'm telling you, the Piranha Plant Girls flow like
water, and those Koopa chicks are just crazy, I mean they don't just do anything you ask, they want to
do everything! Oh, and the Shy Gals? Their raves are to die for, the absolute best. Speaking of best,
some of them have the best of both worlds, and the rest are both worlds, and they're all fully functional
in whatever way, if you know what I mean. Oh, babes, you do know what they have beneath those
dresses of theirs, right? Explains why they're so popular on intervision porn sites. Not to mention they
make rabbits look like pandas! Well, you know how the song goes: give yourself over to absolute
pleasure – and lucky for me, I love the taste of brie...”
Peach turned increasingly crimson as Daisy gushed on.
Dinner with Daisy that evening involved dolmades, a lightly oiled pilaf, and a whole roasted goat with
peaches and cherries.
As Peach browsed the canapés, Zelda grabbed a handful of bacon-wrapped dates and seared shrimp,
her plate already full of cheese-smothered oysters.
Peach smacked them across the room. Zelda stared at her.
“Cyanide,” Peach said, her entire person now firmly engaged and wary.
Search made, security increased, culprit eludes them. Only a loose halyard showed any sign of
disarray.
“I suppose I'm at least partly to blame for this,” Peach told Zelda, “since it was my idea to go running
around Highstreet like that.”
Daisy hugged her and shushed her.
“No,” Zelda said, “I didn't think, not you. I led them right to us. Cálmate.”
“You don't understand, Zelda. We commandeered Daisy's schooner, right? Well, my dad and hers
maintain the best spy networks anywhere, and they love spying on each other just for the competition
of it, so as soon as her dad knew because of my charging things to her account when she was out here
somewhere, mine must have found out shortly afterward, and then it couldn't have been long before
someone let it slip and Warbotdorf's men found out, and then this tonight with the poison and, an–...”
“Shh...” Daisy tutted, “we're all O.K., nothing happened that we can't fix. It's alright.”
Later on the deck. Daisy and Zelda were taking some air, martinis in hand. Peach was within, soaking
in a bath.
“I overplayed my hand pretty badly, earlier, with who's chasing whom?” Zelda asked, making it a
statement.
“Yeah, you did sweetie, but it was so much fun to watch you guys squirm!”
“I trust that you won't let her know that you know that she's the one doing the chasing?”
“Oh my Stars, no! I would never hurt Peach like that!” Daisy shook her head rapidly, “Oh, I'd pee in
her butt in a heartbeat, ma cher, but I don't think that's in the cards. She's fun to tease a little, but she's a
real sweetheart, and kind of delicate. But you know that already. ”
Zelda nodded and looked out to sea.
After a while, Zelda told Daisy that she'd been thinking of leaving Peach in her element. The road
wasn't where Peach belonged. She deserved better than that. Better than her.
“Oh, hell no. Hell-the-fuck no. For one, she won't let you. Seriously, you literally can't. My cousin's
an obstinate little cuss, and once she has her mind set on something, there's no way in hell that you're
shaking her from that goal. Aside from that, I know her too well. This is her natural born element, but
you're obviously her entire world now. It would devastate her. She doesn't care about parties and fancy
food and crap. She never did. She lives in her heart, and her heart is now firmly lodged in you. You
don't have to love her, but you can't leave her like that. You know what that's like.
“Besides,” Daisy wound down, “we aren't always who we once were, and who we've been never
really deserts us.”
Zelda remained quiet after this, considering Daisy's words.
“Do you always say so much with so little?” she asked at last in a low voice.
“Only to those who are listening,” Daisy replied, finishing her drink.
Later, all had returned to the deck for an evening of music. Varicolored paper lanterns decorate the
area.
They had gone through two bottles of Zinfandel, and were well on their way through the third,
picking through a light snack of onaga on a bed of ogo. The breeze was light, carrying with it a frisson.
The conversation was light, the moon beautiful. The band kept a constant background without
overwhelming the ear.
They played “Boléro,” “The four seasons,” and “In the hall of the Mountain King,” the gentle tidal
swells seemingly in time with the music all the while. The mood shifted to a slower pace as the next
piece began.
“Who can say, when the roads meet,

that love might be
in your heart,
and who can say, when the day sleeps,
if the night keeps
all your heart –
night keeps
all your heart...”
The song wound down, and as they opened “Grande valse villageoise,” Zelda fixed Daisy with an
accusatory glare, Daisy in turn was obvious in her struggle to maintain a façade of complete innocence
as Peach looked dreamily toward the band and began swaying to the music, singing softly to herself.
“I know you,
I walked with you once upon a dream;
I know you,
the gleam in your eyes is so familiar a gleam...”
Zelda arose, coming around the table a little unsteadily. Peach glanced up inquiringly.
“May I have this dance?” Zelda asked her softly, holding out her hand.
Peach didn't comprehend at first, then melted inside as it dawned on her, nodding her head
nervously, her eyes darting around the floor.
They waltzed. As the music changed, so too did their steps. Peach was lost in the moment, flying
within, her head aswirl with emotion. Time lost all meaning.
Soon the tempo picked up, a more urgent rhythm taking hold, a strong beat. Merengue. Zelda
picked up her pace to match it, throwing a challenging look to Peach, who picked up the gantlet.
As this concluded, the band shifted again. The beat remained a steady 2/4, but the melody
demanded a tango.
Zelda regarded Peach directly, possessively, dominantly, assuming a demanding and territorial
stance. Peach returned the look with impudence, walked around her haughtily, then pressed forward
brazenly into Zelda's space, demanding and tempting. Zelda took hold of Peach, turned, swung Peach
through the air, and grasped her back just beneath the shoulder. She responded to this deferentially
without hesitation, leaning into Zelda, giving her hand to Zelda's outstretched arm while grasping her
back around the waist.
Moving slowly, then quickly, left and right. Swivel. Turn. Whirl and reel in. Dip and hook.
Reverse. Zelda's hand rested on Peach's waist, guiding her exactly where she wanted her. Attuning to
each other's rhythms, their steps increased in size and boldness, occupying the entire floor. Lift, hook,
spin, dip. Return. Slide through legs, lean in, drag.
As Peach caught her breath afterward, Zelda had a word with the band.
Returning to their table, she grabbed hold of Peach's hand and pulled her to the dance floor once
more.
The music struck up, and they danced once more. A bouncing melody, cheerful and alive. It picked
up quickly, Zelda calling out the lyrics as they danced, her voice now on a wireless mic.
“Tus besos son

los que me dan
alegria.
Tus besos son

los que me dan
el placer.
Tu besos son –
Tus besos son...
son como caramelo!
Caramelo,
me hacen llegar
al cielo!”
Peach didn't quite grasp all of the words, but what she did understand nearly made her swoon.
The next song she understood entirely, and even as she danced, her head was awhirl with the
implications, her heart pounding, her breath short and eyes wide.
“Steppin' out with my baby,

can't go wrong 'cause I'm in right;
ask me when will the day be –
the big day may be tonight!”
The evening eventually closed with “Für Elise” and “An die Freude.”
Through the second half of “An die Freude,” they lit and released dozens of sky lanterns, watching
them float off and wreathe the night in pockets of warmth and color over the wine-faced sea.
It was late by the time that they returned to their cabin. Their last dance had been so romantic that
Peach was still dancing it within – a slow bolero, spinning, turning, sweeping; breathtaking and sizzling
while still holding an ineffable sweetness... They'd danced for hours – in fact were still slick with the
now-cool sweat that Peach was having a great deal of trouble ignoring as Zelda's scent grazed the back
of her throat – and so were still far too amped up for sleep to claim them as yet. The intervision played
music in the background as they talked for a while, neither of them able to make the next move, but
neither willing to give up the timing, the mood.
Peach looked inquiringly toward the nightstand, where she'd set the jar of bridesbane.
“No. Not tonight, Peach. Any other time you want, but your first needs to be special.”
When their lips finally came together, they were only dimly aware of the song playing on the
intervision as Peach's toes began to curl, Zelda's knees finding their way between her thighs.
“Whatever tomorrow brings,

I'll be there,
with open arms and open eyes, yeah.
Whatever tomorrow brings,
I'll be there.
Oh, I'll be there...”
They lost themselves in each other, drifting blissfully in touch, in whispers, shared breaths,
anticipation. Zelda eventually dropped her disguise entirely, presenting only her true form as Peach's
lips and fingertips wandered gently over her scars, exploring her entirely, memorizing every detail.
Dawn.
The sea basked in the early rays as they made their way to breakfast.
Daisy was already in the nook, reading, as they wandered in. Peach was hugging Zelda as they
walked, nibbling on her ear.
Daisy looked up and simply said “G'morning, guys. Sleep well?”
Before Zelda could say a word, Peach bubbled over with “Not a single wink!” squeezing Zelda one
last time and kissing her cheek as they disentangled themselves to forage, then rushing back to taste her
lips before making her way to the food.
“Ooh, more tuna! And another milkshake!” she exclaimed gleefully, gathering small bowls of celery,
onion, a shaker of powdered garlic, and a jar of salad dressing, then thinking about it and grabbing
pickle relish and corn.
“What do you mean 'more' and 'another'? You just got here.”
Peach bit her lip and admitted evasively “Well... there might have been a little midnight snacking...
three or four times...” as she placed her food on the table.
Daisy raised her brows and weaved her head back and forth.
“Three or four times? Really? I suppose that explains why you guys're practically glowing.”
“Five actually,” Zelda corrected, grabbing up muesli and the graham crackers, along with an empty
salad bowl, then shakers of cinnamon, nutmeg, allspice, cloves, and mace, “but who's counting?”
“Five times?” Daisy asked, “Oh, now I just don't know whether to be impressed or envious.”
“No,” Zelda clarified, returning to talk with the omelette cook1 as she clarified over her shoulder,
“five snacks. Six times,” then winked at Daisy, blew a kiss to Peach, and started making demands for a
handful of seared sausage links, three omelettes with both crisp bacon and chewy bacon, mushroom,
feta, and Swiss, a dozen each of pizza rolls and cream cheese jalapeño poppers, and two complete
orders of eggs royale with salted ham and both beluga and salmon caviar, making sure that he
understood that she meant two full English muffins, hence four halves, not two halves, before
rummaging around for ranch dressing, hot sauce, and lime juice.
“Hmm. Feeling-good foods, huh?” Peach remarked to Zelda, “Looks as if we'll have to do that a
whole lot more often... you busy five minutes from now?” she asked, running her eyes over Zelda,
biting her lower lip seductively, swiveling her torso and breathing heavily.
1 Omelette cook: Zelda had already inquired about the possibility of overcooked ratburgers with okonomi sauce, having acquired a
taste for them during her stint with the Dwarves. Unsurprisingly, it was firmly not an available option.
Zelda appeared to consider this for a moment, “Mayhap I could pencil you in for a mustache ride,
but that could present a bit of a challenge.”
“Oh, that's alright – I find that I've developed a preference for riding bareback!”
Peach wandered nonchalantly over to Zelda, “...and if I'm a good widdow girl, and finish a-a-all of
my bweakfast, may I have something for dessert? Pwe-e-ease?” batting her eyelids as she asked, her
fingers walking up Zelda's shirt and down to her butt.
“...and then maybe you could do that thing again? You know, that thing that you do with my toes? I
really like that.”
Daisy fanned herself dramatically “Day-umm... you done turned my baby cousin into a sex fiend
overnight? Y'all ain't right, girl! Oh, and it's official: both impressed and envious.”
Peach's eyes bulged with embarrassment as she returned with her food and drink, balancing a bowl
of shrimp and shredded carrot to add to the tuna.
Daisy gave her a look, “Aw, hells yeah – ride 'er cowgirl! You go gitchu some!” and proceeded to
rat-tail Peach's ass repeatedly with a large twisted cloth napkin.
“Oh, my... Zel, you simply have to see her face! I swear she looks like I just woke her up with
surprise butt sex!”
Zelda was munching away on fruitcake as she sat down to await her multiple egg dishes.
Watching how carefully Zelda was moving, and how gingerly she lowered herself to the well-
upholstered seat, Daisy asked “You alright there, hon?”
Zelda gave her a fragile smile, her face a rictus of pleasure and pain, “Oh aye, and then some. It's
just... been a few years...”
“Well shitfire! Good on you, then,” Daisy smiled, a mix of sympathy and friendly ribbing, “It's
about time you knocked the cobwebs outta that thing!”
“Aye, maybe so, but our little Peach here turns out to be primal. Extremely primal. I have sore spots
in places where most people don't even have places. I had no idea how strong a headlock her thighs
were capable of – and I think I'm suffering a little hearing loss...”
“So I gathered from the claw marks on your shoulders.”
“I'm also fairly certain that the lass could shatter crystal.”
“Oh, ja, I know...”
Peach's face froze as she let out a squeak, “What?”
“Sorry to break it to ya hon, but there's no one on this ship who doesn't know when you're boinking.
Not really much you can do about that here.”
Peach smiled nervously.
“...and oh my Goddesses, she's a total perv – and coming from me, that's saying something!”
“Well, you shouldn't have told me about your little mountaineer obsession then, now should you?”
Daisy's face took on a look of curious confusion.
“Don't ask,” Zelda winced as she repositioned herself very slowly and carefully, then grinned with a
supremely satisfied look.
“I seem to recall quite a bit of reciprocity there – unless you'd prefer that I not return such favors...”
Peach observed, wiggling her butt suggestively.
Zelda glanced over to her with a smile, her eyes gliding down to soak in the view of Peach's ass, and
actually began to blush a little herself for once.
“Methinks an opening just became available in my schedule...” running her tongue across her lips.
Daisy's face took on a mock gape, “Oh, that's just lovely. G'head, rub it in why don'cha? I'll just sit
here pining away all by my little lonesome.”
Squaring her shoulders, Peach looked Daisy dead in the eye, “So, still gonna tease me now, the way
you always do? Hmm?” she asked, her eyebrows raised proudly.
“Nah,” Daisy replied, “I'll let the shiny-new wear off a bit – then lay into you ten times as much!”
then gave her a wink and blew her a kiss.
Peach stuck her tongue out.
Daisy just rolled her eyes and added “Mmm, darlin' don't I just wish!”
Peach stole bites of Zelda's food here and there, particularly the white chocolate macadamia cookies
that Zelda had found, and spent the rest of the morning bouncing around hyperactively, alternating
between containing herself primly and gushing with overshared details, and generally pumping Daisy
throughout for information from her own broad experience.
“You guys sound like you've already rewritten the dang' Kamasutra!”
After a while, things quieted down.
Zelda and Daisy found themselves looking bemusedly at Peach.

“What?” she asked them, when she finally realized that they were staring at her.
“You seen the smile on this girl's face, Zel? She looks like a dog that can't stop fartin'!”
Peach reacted before she could think, “Hrr-hngh unngg, mmm...”
“I'll just take that to mean that you had yourself a good ole time there, hon.”
“You should see the hickies she gave me.”
Peach gaped at Zelda.
“You'll have to come to the bathroom with me for that, though.”
Peach started slapping Zelda's arm with both hands.
“Well, considering the ones that I can see – on both of y'all, I might add...”
Fending off Peach's attacks, Zelda continued her exchange, “Speaking of, did you know she has the
cutest little mole inside her left thigh, just below her–”
Peach let out a squeal and redoubled her efforts.
Aside from some space to avoid wearing their snacks, they were joined at the hips, and quite often
the lips, for the rest of the day, Zelda feeding Peach little tidbits of cheese and marmalade, and Peach
preening and bubbling from Zelda's attention, surprising her a few times by kissing the food into
Zelda's mouth.
=====
Although they had disappeared before brunch for a little fun and a nap, it wasn't long before they made
another appearance in the dining room, then on to the parlor.
A leisurely lunch, followed by shuffleboard, and a prolonged merienda while whale watching. The
pastry chef was a miracle worker.
As the afternoon wore on, Daisy fixed Peach with a look that Peach knew well. She was about to
ask something serious, and it wasn't going to be comfortable at all.
Zelda picked up on Peach's mood just as Daisy began.
“So cuz, y'know I gotta ask. Is she good to you?”
Zelda froze. She wanted nothing more than to cease existing right then, or to at least be blown to
oblivion and her ashes whisked away to the deepest and darkest of caves.
The sound of hoofbeats faintly crossed the skies as time stretched out.
Peach smiled and nodded, “It turns out that I'm a pineapple person after all.”
Daisy's face took on an odd expression.
“Kinky...”
Zelda choked on the mouthful of sandwich that she'd forgotten about.
Teatime rolled around, replete with seafood salads and delectable morsels.
“Hey there, buttmunch, I–” Daisy began, then trailed off.
Peach was blushing the reddest that she'd ever seen her, and she'd made her blush a lot in her day.
“O-M-G, I am so filing that away for blackmail material – you little perv...!”
Peach's eyes widened even further as she cringed at Zelda's wicked grin.
Zelda then turned to Daisy and nodded confirmation of her inference.
“With tongue, too,” Zelda expanded unnecessarily “and you know just how long her tongue is.”
Daisy acted aghast at such behavior, causing Peach to burn and even deeper crimson.
“She does it, too,” Peach mumbled.
Daisy and Zelda turned to each other, their eyes dancing as they suppressed their smiles.
“Why, Zel, what's wrong with you?!”
Zelda's eyebrows pulled together in a look of contrition as she bowed her head.
“I don't know what comes over me!” she exclaimed, casting the back of her hand to her forehead,
“Woe! I find that I am ensorcelled – I cannot help myself. Please save me!”
Daisy heaved a great sigh.
“I fear that your foul and filthy acts go far too far. I cannot allow such vile depravity to continue;
you are beyond redemption!”
“Whatever shall become of me, base wretch that I am?”
This went on for several minutes, and while Peach hardly relished this particular attention, nor quite
shook her unease, the shock wore away gradually as she acclimated to the ribbing.
=====
D notes Z flushed and pale at same time (a good trick, with her skin).
D: I need to have a girl talk w/ P.
Z: And I'm not a girl?
D: Not for this talk, no. Now shoo, you! G'wan, git! Go watch a movie or somethin', 'cause you're
next.
“The Talk.” D goes over ground-rule stuff about Z w/ P; lube, talking about what's O.K. and not
O.K., preferences, deal-breakers, red flags, etc.. Has P write things down.
D repeats this with Z, complete with pen and paper.
D sits with both to get The Talk going, then locks them into the kitchen to do the same with each
other on the assumption that they're idiots who won't do so otherwise (P's clueless and desperately
eager to please, Z's just desperate and risks enmeshing again) – with the promise that they'll repeat
these steps if she's not satisfied with the results.
She's not satisfied, so rinse & repeat.

Second go around sufficient, but she'll keep her eyes on them and do it all over again if she feels that
either of them isn't talking when they should have.
They spend the next two weeks relaxing with Daisy and goofing around.
Peach tries the bridesbane one evening, they try it together another evening, all goes well.
=====
“...and I'll always be all pretty for you, and smell nice, and everything! I promise!” Peach finished
breathlessly.
Zelda just smiled gently, cupping Peach's face.
“You're perfect just as you are.”
“Guys, please, enough with the canoodling – not all of us have someone to bump uglies with at the
moment.”
=====
Z reading manga in bed, P asks what she's reading, Z shows her Dark Hunter, P asks her to read it to
her as she cuddles up against her side to sleep. Z just watches her sleep for a while, her chest rising and
falling peacefully, smiling softly.
=====
Poolside one lazy afternoon.

Peach was dozing gently beneath a canopy on an inflatable mattress in the middle of the water, kept
from bumping into the sides by small random jets from the pool and the gentle automated proximity-
flippers of the mattress.
“Y'know,” Daisy opened, “some of this might just be all my fault. Peach imprinting on you and all.”
Zelda marked her place set down her book, getting the marked impression that this was leading
someplace. Lifting her drink, she took a sip, then a healthier swig, and waited.
“When we were kids, her parents were away a lot. Oh hell, they weren't really there even when they
were there.
“Anyways, we kinda had her stay with us a lot. Every summer and dang' near every winter. Come to
think of it, I'm pretty sure she spent more time there than at home, and she still stays over for most of
the year.
“So, being kids, or 'teens, later, we played all of the games we could think of, but she was especially
fond of the whole knight-and-domnizelle routine. Oh, sometimes we'd dress it up under guise of
Railroads East into Wamphyri territory, or maybe Super-mutants and Space Aliens, but it was still
almost always just the two of us. I generally ended up playing both the villain and the hero, and
whenever I came and saved her from the Dragon or Big Bug-Eyed Monster, or untied her from the
tracks, or whatever, she'd demand a kiss – not that I minded, 'course, since that just meant I'd get to cop
a quick feel or two... and there would maybe be some skinny dippin', too...
“What I'm sayin' is that I kind of might've encouraged her hero-thing with all of that. That, and
Peach isn't gonna hurt you.”
Zelda didn't know how to process all of this.
This whole time, she'd worried that it was just some silly infatuation, or a sense of obligation, or...
“So... when she said that she just needed a little time to adjust...”
Daisy winced at this, “Uh-huh; she really meant just exactly that, darlin'.”
Festering in Zelda's mind though was that at yet another turn, Peach was shown to have been cast
aside by those who would raise her, who should have been her greatest shield; spurned, yet still having
bloomed.
Peach yawned and stretched lazily just then, and glanced over to her as if Zelda were her knight in
shining armor, then took a few sips of her mojito and nestled back in the floater.
“You've been good for her too, you know,” Daisy observed.
Zelda eyed her for a moment, disbelieving.
“She's a lot more confidant now – and I don't mean just 'cause you two finally got your shit together.
There's a fundamental difference in her now. She's grounded. That means a lot.”
Zelda seemed to sag into herself at this, as if she'd been placed on a pedestal and must now live up
to expectations far beyond her capabilities.
“Oh now, stop that. It's not about you. You think I can't see her knuckles and things? The way she
moves now? The look in her eyes? She's assessing everything, not just taking it as it comes. Those
rough and tumble clothes she's in – she isn't simply wearing them; they fit her, they fit who she's
become. She's learned to stand on her own from you, but you're not what's supporting her. She is. You
could learn something from her about that.”
After Zelda had had some time to absorb this, Daisy pressed on.
“You know House Sarasa stands with you, or at least would if y'all would stake claim?”
Zelda smiled wistfully.
“That's sweet, Daisy, but I think that your father might have some say in such matters.”
Daisy smiled back, “For an Imperial Princess on the run an' all, you sure are a thickheaded one
sometimes.”
Zelda burst out laughing.
“You echo the words of my confidante of many years, though he'd as like rap my head against a tree
as use soft words to guide me.”
“And y'all're still deflecting, Zel. Doesn't matter none. I may not have full authority, but I can speak
as his proxy, and I know his mind full well. If he knew that it was you, he'd back you all the way – an'
believe me you, even if he doesn't know for sure just yet, he knows damn' well.”
Zelda quirked her brow at this.
“Do you honestly mean to tell me that you think you can run around all over the realms willy nilly
and not have everyone notice?”
Zelda appeared aghast, as if this were an entirely new and alien thought to her.
“Oh, honey... not all of us knew where you were all the time, but you can bet yer butt we knew the
deal. We couldn't act without startin' shit to no end, but you have our backin' if you wan' make a move
– and Kong Country. Same with the Mushroom Kingdom, for as much good as that does. Probably not
Koopa, but you probably guessed that already.”
“I'd as lief not involve the caitiff Kong,” Zelda replied with a cold edge.
Daisy reached over to put her hand over Zelda's.
“You don't know what's goin' on behind the scenery, honey. DK is on your side, believe me. He's a
canny one, plays it close to the vest an' all, but second and third order derivatives show his true
intentions.”
Zelda stared blankly, “And... ye lost me.”
“Spy stuff; reliable extrapolations from what he does to what's true or just a front.”
Zelda nodded and filed it for later rumination.
=====
As they prepared to disembark, Daisy stood waiting to see them off. Zelda offered her hand, and Daisy
raised her eyebrow, arms akimbo.
She glanced down at Zelda's hand.
“You think so, do you? Oh, bless your heart, honey – hells no, I'on't think so! 'sides, you're family
now,” drawing her into a deep hug. Zelda melted within, and wanted to cry. Daisy could see that, but
graciously pretended not to, for which Zelda was grateful.
“Now you take good care of my cuz', a'ight? She's the only one I got. If she gets hurt, you're gonna
answer to me for it.
“And that goes for you too, cuz'. I hear you turn into a little butthole, I'm'a tan your hide.”
O ~~~ O
Chapter 5: Úlairi
First mate is resistance seed, as is one of the crewmen.

Fresh from graving and a shave, Nazgûl's1 fog is subdued.
Tetra: “Unlike you scurvy lot, I've no need fer some pre'y-arsed cabin boy. I'm a fookin' lady!”
(switches to falsetto, with an excellent imitation of a lousy imitation of highborn accent and
mannerisms) “We require our personal assistant to take our memoirs.” (returns to character) “Muyn!
Any o' ye' ferge' tha' an' cast yer attentions 'er way?” (smiles manically, eyes bulging and gleaming) “I
kill ye – a lot.”
Her voice had shifted subtly as she ended the oration. She'd used the Weirding Way ever so slightly,
just enough to plant a strong aversion in all of their minds.
As the ship weighed anchor, a violin struck up a tune and the crew struck up a song.
“Yo-hohoho, Yo-hohoho,
Yo-hohoho, Yo-hohoho,
Binkusu no sake wo,
1 Nazgûl: Zelda won Nazgûl from the original Tetra in a card game (Dragon Poker, with some elements of Fizzbin). Tetra had gotten
shitty about it, and so they dueled, but eventually cut a deal; Zelda glamoured Tetra permanently and took the title for herself, leaving
Tetra now able to retire in relative anonymity and embrace a more leisurely pursuit with some wealth previously invested under the
name of Bonny Anne.
She's a galleon with a low charged bow, no forecastle, and a high stern. Double-hulled against breach, twin-keeled for a shallow
draft with a recurve to their prows for improved water-breaking. Crew 140; 62 scorpions, 48 mangoneau; cruising speed of 9 knots
(2x-4x, in favorable conditions). Detachable shock-mounted ram in front, below waterline; 2 corvi in front, multiple boarding ramps
along sides. Cargo capacity of >300 short tons (>267.9- metric tonnes).
todoke ni yuku yo
umikaze kimakase namimakase!
Shio no mukou de,
yuuhi mo sawagu
sora nya wa wo kaku tori no uta...”
The first few days passed without incident. As evening approached on the third day, Tetra went to her
navigation room, insisting that she not be disturbed for some time to come. She arranged a simple
decoy before the table. After several minutes passed, a crewman peered in through the door's portal,
making out her shape silhouetted against the sunset-painted clouds and the darkened horizon. Picking
up a satchel of food, she slipped out the bay window and along the eaves to that of her bedroom.
Someone entered Tetra's darkened cabin. A Goron, and a hulking brute of one by the name of
Pantagruel; a deep tulip-mustard colored skin with large spiral and simple geometric tattoos, his broad
stone body and massive arms presented a menacing presence – Tetra had noticed his yard walk and
kept her eye on him; most of the crew displayed the same yard walk, but his carried a more self-assured
air of presumptuous satisfaction. One crewman was outside keeping watch, with another by
navigation. Two minutes of silence. He stumbled back out, crotchless, choking his last around his own
manhood, sans testes.
Tetra slipped back out through window and back to the navigation room moments before being
called to her cabin.
Z goes through prearranged conversation with P – she hadn't explained her intention, only impressed
on her the import thereof. P tells her that she'd been reading, and relates one of the stories that she'd
read. A garden, a plant offering the reader a flower to sniff, the reader plucking the flower then trying
to stick it back on and realizing that plants shouldn't be imprisoned, and releasing it back to the wild.
She finds food sitting on the table, making a meatball hero with marinara as she recounts the tale.
T, just loud enough to be overheard beyond the cabin door: “Where'd ye ge' th' bread? Wait, where'd
ye... no, ne'er min', just be sure tae wipe that bit o'... sauce... fra' yore lips an' chin. An' don' be
mentionin' anyt'ing aboa' magi'l po'ers tae th' crew; they'd take frigh' o' ye an' be no use tae me.”
Tetra walked out slowly, clomping her feet to ensure that the crew gathered around the door could
clear out in time. She acted as if to reassure them that nothing was wrong, blustering that the dead guy
had stumbled over something and left again before P could stop him – then mentioned “on an unrela'ed
no' ” that P wouldn't need dinner 'til later.
The crew asked about the dead man; Tetra appeared to be shaken and replying awkwardly, “ 'e fell
doan the stairs, as I'm shore our good doctor will concur.” They looked to the stairs fifteen feet away,
leading only downward to the main deck. Seeing their looks, she repeated herself more firmly.
“Damn shame, too,” she sighed to herself, loudly enough that half of the crew nearby could hear her,
“ 'e was the bes' fuy'er o' the lo' o' ye buy a damn' sigh'. I 'ad me some big plans fer 'im.”
=====
“Th' ship 'as a fish an' kelp trawl rig. We're in th' ocean, underway; only an idiot wouldn't trawl f' their
next meal. Why d'ye t'ink th' spars and such have those funny things th' gulls are always ge'in' stuck in?
It ain't fer looks or shits 'n' giggles, m'lady! Tha's why I require tha' the ship's cook be at least a two an'
a half ou' o' five as a sushi chef. It's e'en part o' why we keep a damn' Monkey-bird on board – they're
soddin' pains, but they ha' sharp eyes when it comes tae spottin' targets an' trouble, an' they can sniff out
minga-melons be'er than a starvin' pig tae truffles. An' ratburgers; ya ha' tae have teriyaki ratburgers
onna ship – why d'ye t'ink we keep so many rats aboard? Same t'ing fer the alchemists 2,” Tetra rambled
on, “bu' jus' wai'l ye ge' a taste o' me bacalaítos. I'll make ye some tonigh', a whole heapin' pile of 'em.
If ye ha'n't had 'em before, ye'll t'ink ye've died an gone tae gourmands' heaven!”
While Peach listened to it all on one level, on another level she made a note to herself to get closer
to the chef and learn what she could of making sushi and ratburgers. This brought her back to the
signature special at Valjean's, and her thoughts meandered to variations on it with whatever might be
available shipboard.
=====
Peach followed the sound of a quena insinuating itself throughout the ship. She wended her way
between barrels and crates, around ropes and under arms, seeking this elusive thing. The open air and
winds, the creaking boards with waves breaking sporadically along the hull, shouted calls of the crew
and sometimes piercing scream of the gulls above, all contributed to confound her search. Eventually
she found the bard midway up the foremast. Sitting to listen, his tune delighted her, it was a light-
hearted fugue, with a sinuous refrain and multiple themes playing against one another.
When he was done, he laid it down and waited. His name was Saltibartops. Intrigued by his
presence, she asked what had drawn him to become a bard.
“Well, my father was a bard. His father was a bard. My mother's father was a bard, my three
brothers are bards, four uncles on my father's side are bards...” he began, launching into the tale of his
life. As he told her of his studies and travels, he wove a picture full of colors, wares and trinkets for
sale, the sounds of the crowds and scents of succulent meats and sweet pastries wafting from the food
stalls, his hands shaping the forms and motions, his postures giving caricatured impressions of various
individuals.
“So, this one time at bard camp...” he went on, regaling her with an incident both embarrassing and
humorous, ending on a bawdy note.
“...and before I knew it, there I was enrolled in the Academy of the Performing Bards.”
And so it was that several hours had passed without notice, his tale enchanting her with little
observations of the cultures that he had encountered, the establishments at which he had performed, the
personalities he'd met, and so many things that he had picked up along the way.
“You never know what you might next need to know, so you pack away every little nugget of
information, correlate each of them with everything else, and you're a walking encyclopedia in no time
with a knack for almost anything that you put your hand to. This tale is doon, and God save al the
rowte!” he finished with a satisfied sigh and a knowing wink.
=====
“What is this, exactly?” Tetra eyed the bread suspiciously.

“Well, you know how I like to bake cakes, right?”
“Go on...”
“I suggested to the ship's cook that I do something nice for the crew. He didn't really think that cake
would do the trick though. So we talked some while he showed me his recipe for blueberry-bran
muffins, and one thing led to another, and I came up with an idea all my own: carrot-date-nut banana-
granola bread with some ginger and the tiniest bit of blackstrap molasses. Try some? Please? You'll like
it, I promise!” Peach practically vibrated with excitement, a hopeful look on her face.
2 Alchemists: Firebombs of fat, beeswax, olive oil, crushed sulfur and phosphorus, charcoal, naphtha, ammonia, and fine powdered
aluminum, iron, and magnesium. Tanks of caustic acids and alkalis. Store of ammonium iodide.
“You said that you're no good with anything beyond cake.”

Peach vacillated. “That's true, I'm not, well, I mean, not much yet, but I've learned a bit in my time
with you guys, and I'm trying really hard. The cook tried it and said that it was really really good, and
that he'd make a whole bunch more of it for everyone on the ship tonight, so please try it? I made some
tamago for you, too, with some soy and honey...”
=====
Saltibartops strikes up conversation with Peach. They talk music. He mentions that he'd not heard of
Her Illustrious Ladyship, the Marquise Lizspo Rochinbeau. Drops “accidental” half-use of “Your
Highn–”, and goes on to explain that everybody on board is nobody in particular. She says to just call
her Lizspo.
Saltibartops: I'm sorry to say, Lizspo, but there is no one aboard Nazgûl who doesn't know when you're
having intimate relations.
Peach's eyes grew large as her face reddened, and excused herself, scurrying off to seek out Tetra in
order to ask if they could insulate the captain's quarters.
=====
The Vulgar Unicorn. Lunch is a delicate plum-infused sakura saké with lime, large orders of lemon
curried chicken with rice; eggrolls with soy sauce and duck sauce; steamed gyoza with soy sauce, chili
oil, and vinegar. Laid on ship stores of same afterward, along with pork vindaloo.3
“If we were going to collect so much of this anyway, then why didn't we simply have something else
for lunch instead?”
“Always taste the wares before purchasing, Princess.”
=====
Upon sighting their first quarry, Saltibartops took up his violin again, bringing out deep tones, far more
bass and volume than it should have been capable of, practically cello-like. The crew soon picked up
the tune and their song resonated with menace.
“Yo way oh, hom vah ray,

3 Food stores: Assuming precisely 2,000 kcal per day and an equal distribution of fat (9 kcal*gram), protein, and carb (4 kcal*gram,
each) – and no indigestible addenda – you're looking at a minimum of 353(-) grams (12.5- oz) of food per person per day (distro aside,
fat would still be 222.2 g [7.8+ oz], and protein/carb 500 g [18- oz]) in order to meet kilocalorie needs; this is ignoring the question of
micronutrients. An average full stomach is quoted as four pounds (1.8+ kg) of food per day.
Accordingly, a crew of 140 would likely need well over 49.4(+) kg ±35% (109 lb ±35%) per day just to meet the kilocalorie
requirements to perform their duties. Presumably, they'd require >560 pounds (>254 kg) per day to feel full.
This means that whether taken on all at once, or picked up at ports en route, or self-supplied by fishing and [onboard] gardening,
just a 4 month journey alone would therefore necessarily require 6.6+ short tons ±35% (6 metric tonnes ±35%) for kilocalorie needs,
or >34 short tons ±35% (>31 metric tonnes ±35%) in order to feel full. For perspective, that's equivalent to ~2 (kcal) or ~11 (fullness)
African forest elephants ±35%, or ~1 (kcal) or ~5 (fullness) African bush or Asian elephants ±35%.
Nazgûl's cargo capacity of >300 short tons (>267.9- metric tonnes) means that she could well carry this much with ease and still
perform other functions. Prices of food can vary immensely, but as a baseline, if we assume an equivalent of $1 per pound of average
“food” (which could be off by a factor of 3 or more), then a full store of ~35 short tons (~4 months of basically-full feeding) would
then cost ~$70k (*/ 3+). Clearly, though Zelda's daily life doesn't reflect high living, the resistance overall isn't operating on an
entirely shoestring budget.
yo way rah, jerhume Brunnen-G;

way row way, row hanna row,
ah way row ray, jay hanna ray...
Vairyo, way oh,

ah hom vah yah ray;
vairyo, ah ray,
jerhume Brunnen-G...”
Crew picks choicest items, leaves the rest. Same for next two ships. Third is Imperial, Tetra raises red
flag. Peach to stay in quarters; fighting spills in. She ends it quickly and messily, gains several notches
of crew's respect.
=====
Peach convinces cook to make helado de coco; slowly wins over the crew, someplace halfway between
little sister and mascot.
Crew shows her the ropes, furling and so forth. Mere slip, but pulls her weight without complaint.
She talks with chef about cooking in general, and he tells her of how the ship distills her own fresh
water, with the side benefit of all the fresh sea salt they'll ever need, which leads to her teaching Peach
how to make bife de tartaruga, and cautions her about chelonitoxism. This leads to a series of in-depth
lessons on the risks of metal poisoning from fish, shark biomagnification of toxins, fugu, blue ringed
octopus, cone snails, and many more. Peach has an idea for butter and wine braised leeks with lemon
sole and dill in a chili and beer batter, to go with the steaks.
=====
While there was always something necessary for the ship, Peach found that she was supernumerary. As
well, there was always something to learn, but she often found her mind drifting to knots, now that so
much of her life was centered on things nautical.
One thing led to another, and she began examining the patterns of geometric figures' properties –
how many vertices and edges and so forth she might expect to find in triangles and squares and circles
in each dimension. The circles posed an issue, so she set them aside for a while. She could see the
sequences building up, and could work out some of the rudimentary governing equations in her head as
she went about daily ship's business, but soon found it to be too aggravating.
That evening, she set down to a log all that she had so far worked out. The squares presented the
simplest data set, all in powers of two, and each row building on the preceding row in a simple
recursion, so she began with them. Zelda was reading comfortably, and was quite encouraging of her
pursuing this; she didn't really understand just what Peach was doing, but she grasped that it was
nagging at her mind and that playing with these numbers was fun for her and made her happy, and so
brought her a few snacks and juice and ramen and retired to her own entertainment.
Peach couldn't really explain it to herself, either. She just knew that she wanted to work out the
underlying principles directly, without relying on known formulae. She knew that she could reach
them, but she wanted to truly grok why each step proceeded as it did, to feel the dimensionalization.
It was slow going at first, simply filling in cell after cell in her array, the top row's cell values for
vertices being nothing but twice the value of the dimension, the second row for edges being a little
more interesting in that they were each twice their preceding cell to the left plus the cell above them;
after that it was just a repetition of the 2L+U recursion pattern. Reaching ten dimensions gave her
enough material to start from, though it didn't really gel until she'd extended it a few more dimensions.
At twenty, the whole was clearly set.
Once Peach had worked out the equations for the first five dimensions, she began to see a pattern
developing within the set of equations themselves. After some juggling of her conventions, “n” found
itself the key to the whole and she had a final meta-equation for how many k-elements one would find
for a square of any number of n-dimensions – it didn't matter the number of dimensions to the element
or the square, she could solve for it quickly and easily with this; best of all, it even extended
continuously to non-integer values, such as the number of e-dimensional elements that you'd find in a
pi-dimensional square, where before she could answer only trivial special cases such as how many
dimensions a square must have if it possessed six vertices, or how many vertices a 2.5849625-
dimensional square must have. Her eureka moment resulted in a spontaneous and almost unrealized
squealing outburst of happiness that startled Zelda, but as she turned to extend her table to higher
dimensions, Zelda returned to her book with a smile.
This had taken a few nights of fiddling. Her days were still occupied learning whatever she could to
be useful aboard ship, and her evenings weren't all math oriented, not to mention that she was breaking
unfamiliar ground and wanted to be sure of each result before taking it a step further.
She found a satisfying symmetry developing by the time that she'd filled in the table to twenty
dimensions and glanced over it as a whole. It had escaped her until she'd considered working out the
equations vertically for each dimension, rather than horizontally for each element: the diagonals
mirrored the data of the rows. Not quite the masterstroke that she'd been seeking, but almost an Easter
egg nestled there awaiting her notice as an enticing goody – she'd have to work out a set of equations
that took the mirroring into account, but shelved it for the moment as a later project.
She then sought to repeat the process on triangles.
Having worked out triangles quickly and easily enough for the first three rows, she'd found herself
stymied for the next two weeks. Ignoring binomial coefficients, the triangles had turned out to be quite
an issue, requiring that she work out ways to solve for summing triangular numbers in n-dimensions.
She bypassed the issue once she saw that the triangles' values reiterated the squares' 2L+U pattern. The
number of vertices was always simply n+1, though the number of edges took a detour when she
jumped ahead, distracted by triangular areas' l(l+1)/2 pairing (which led her down a further sidetrack
for a while, trying to find a universally applicable equation for factorials), but then it grew much more
complicated when she had to work out the equation for DIM 3. Eventually, she settled for a limited
solution involving summed squares; the solution was awkward, she could hear Sonic calling it a
kludge, and she found it frustrating.
She could feel a more generalized problem behind the two, but she couldn't really see how to extend
her results to other Platonic solids beyond degenerate cases such as DIM 0 or DIM 1, much less to non-
reifiable figures between them, such as a regular polyhedron with five faces. It seemed briefly that she
glimpsed it as she treated the figures' duals – triangles matching themselves, cubes with octahedra,
dodecahedra with icosahedra – but it didn't pan out, leaving the 24-cells and 120-cells alone for the
moment. At least she'd had fun with stretching the centers of a segment, square, and octahedron
outward bidirectionally, almost like the triangular figures' single center-stretch.
Taking a break from triangles, she turned her attention to geometric numbers' progression as a more
generalized approach to DIM 2 figures. Starting with simple, familiar polygons, it didn't take her long
at all to reduce them to a gnomon of length l and (k-1)-many triangular wedges of length l-minus-1.
Then she found herself facing much the same issue in higher dimensions as she had with triangular
contents, made slightly worse by the issue of tiling a volume with tetrahedra (she considered briefly the
possibility of packing them in a non-Euclidean space, and that would probably be interesting, but
would nevertheless simply steer away even further from the basic thrust). She wondered if she should
take a different tack and study the functions that gave their dihedral angles instead, but it just didn't
appeal to her.
Seeing squares and triangles originally as translated and rotated line segments, and now instead as
special cases through the filter of triangular wedges, she decided not to worry about circles' lack of
easily identifiable analogous defining bits (especially after taking the rotation of a segment around
either end versus the midpoint and comparing those with the rotation of a disc around an axial
diameter, arguments of pi and tau aside) and simply looked at the equations for their shells and their
contents. Both the shell and the contents were split into two interwoven series each, and all were
governed by multiples of 2πr2/n. The power of r scaling with n was interesting, and the pi multiple
being n for dimensions 2n or 2n+1 was playfully quirky, but she found the fractional opening multiple
to be irritating, and what she found between seven and eight Euclidean embedding dimensions had her
shaking; at just a hair above seven and one quarter dimensions, it seemed that the Riemannian surface
sphere (codimension one) reached its maximum (not long after that, she noticed a similar effect at two
embedding dimensions lower for the interior ball). It all stemmed from the interaction of two patterns
– one simple one in which the surface's denominator multiplied by the dimension gave the contents'
denominator, and the numerators being the nth power of two for the nth odd dimension; these cascaded
into pretty effects, such as a surprising chess-knight-like pattern (reminiscent of 2L+U...) wherein the
content's denominator in a given odd-dimension was always the shell's denominator two dimensions
later. The even dimensions weren't nearly so well behaved though: the numerator was always two,
while the denominator refused to give her anything useful until she'd reached ten dimensions; once
she'd cracked that, she was heady with victory, sure that she could find a way to tie them all together
into a single governing meta-equation. The whole of this broke down into several possible ways to
extend the shell-and-content concepts to equations involving girth and such in one direction and... some
kind of size-thing for n+x dimensional properties that she could grasp only abstractly, such as the literal
area of a line segment, or the literal volume of a disc... but in either case, her every attempt so far
collapsed into mathematically cute but useless seeming-nonsense within a dimension or two, and she
feared that she'd have to resort to one gamma function or another if she wished to extend this further to
arbitrary negative4 and complex numbers. Then the exponents caught her eye, and in a flash she
recalled something that she'd run into in her birthday books, and she and Tails had pored over at length
– derivatives – and it all came together in a rush, a pure and perfect moment of satori; it was all in the
integration (and integration by tau, she realized in afterthought, giving away the obvious continuation
of divisors), it was screamingly obvious, looking at them that way. She could see the n-balls and n-
spheres in a palimpsest of interactions; she could feel the equations' evolution like monks on ascending
and descending stairs. She'd started by building her circles by rotating a radius around its origin two-
pi-many radii, almost implying a vector, but everything changed if she shifted to a line segment rotated
around its midpoint tau-over-four-many diameters (invoking a spin-2 symmetry).
Sharing all of this with Zelda, giddy with excitement, she bounced around their cabin, babbling
rapidly about pi and tau and wondering if there weren't some simple and obvious way to tie the
polytopes all together, even the circles. Zelda was caught up in the excitement, dancing around with
her and grinning manically for Peach's insights, though following all of one word in ten.
4 Gamma: yes, she would run into the issue with negative integers, and presumably the double factorial workaround for negative odd
integers, but no, I've no idea if she pursued this. My head-canon (man that sounds so weird to me, since I'm the author) pictures her
digging through the books and later talking with Tails about it all, and getting into Taylor series stuff (probably hitting Gaussian primes
and Hurwitz quaternions en route to octonions (etc.) and E7 & E8 [sphere packing] w.r.t. DIM 7.2569... spheres and 5.2569... balls).
The problem with gamma is that it's not unique. There are an infinite number of ways to analytically extend the factorial function
validly to the complex domain, so which gamma do you choose, and by which criteria?
=====
Sail under black flag, raid a few merchants. By a remarkable coincidence, the ships all happened to
belong to the resistance, under various fronts, and were all insured by the Imperial Crown. The crew
didn't need to know this though, and so approached matters by stealth and speed. Stealth was limited to
opportunity of small islands and coincidental weather, which left most matters to speed and
shepherding techniques.
The ship's fog came as needed, blanketing vast swathes of water, redirecting portions of the ship's
image to multiple points, making firing solutions against her more luck than calculation.
Her sails stole the wind from all about.
The black flag raised holds sway over the crewmen, lending strength and speed to their bodies and
wills.
Summer passed, and whispers of a Klabautermann made their rounds.
Tetra: Those were shakedown runs, tae ge' all the kinks ou' o' our tactics. Now we 'it a real target –
Koopa's transport. We rig 'er different an' sail un'er the Triforce 'til we're in the right wa'ers, then re-rig
an' 'oise th' red flag.
=====
“Wait, how many other ships?” Peach asked.

“Five or six. It varies some,” Tetra replied.
“Huh,” Peach smiled, a playful look on her face as if scheming, “so I'm dating a commodore? Just
wait 'til I tell the girls – they'll be so envious!”
“Well, no' tae brag, but technically, I might just qualify as an admiral...”
=====
Tetra holds Commander's Call.

Explains that under the red flag, just as before under the black, the ship's maces still hold great
strength, but that furthermore the cutlasses and daggers now hold a viper's bite. She holds back the fact
that the red flag holds powers beyond those of the black – that it holds the power to turn luck itself, to
some extent; that it instills terror within foes who see it, and despair eats into the hearts of foes within
its range; that it can call forth more than mere pea-soup fogs, but gales and small maelstrøms as well.
Peach learns from the cook how to make pralz and taiblet, and particularly qottab, remembering how
much Zelda had enjoyed the oznei Haman.
=====
“Toad...?” Peach asked, flummoxed over seeing him, sure that it couldn't possibly be so.
“–of Toad Hall, your highness; yes ma'am.”
The Toad stood over the corpse for a moment, then suddenly remembered whom he was talking
with, kneeling immediately. His red-spotted head shone with sweat from their recent endeavors as the
clamor of battle beyond the room reduced gradually.
“Get up!” she hissed, “Quickly, before anyone sees you like that!”
“Your highne–”
“Tss!” she looked around sharply to see that no one had heard him, “Please don't call me that – not
here.”
Glancing at her surrounds and then at her own garb, she waved a hand nonchalantly, finishing with
“...pirate!”
Withdrawing his épée-sabre hybrid from the body as he stood, he assumed a guarded neutral
position, awaiting her instruction. The hole in the body's upper back didn't bleed much, smoking
somewhat profusely instead, as the swordsman's weapon5 had partly cauterized the area with a nerve-
frying electrical jolt of several amperes.
Odd, thought Peach, the shape is normal, but I don't recall their ever having used electroshock
before. Why are they doing that? When did they start doing that?
In a rush of breath, her words tumbled forth, “Look, it's a long story and kind of complicated, and
it's truly wonderful to see you again after so very long, and I really really want to know how everyone's
doing, but right now isn't a good time for all of that, and I can't let anyone on the ship know who I am,
and please please please don't let anyone else know that I'm here!”
Toad looked relieved.
“I take it then that the Imperial Marine here was indeed not rushing toward you in order to spirit you
away from this heinous den of pirates?”
She shook her head slowly and in deadly serious fashion.
“And the crew...” he gestured.
“Oh, they're pirates. Except for the Captain, sort of, and maybe the cook... and probably the bard
too, though I'm really not entirely certain of him – but the rest are all pirates, yes.”
He considered this.
“I see. And you wish to remain... anonymous.”
Peach nodded fervently.
“Of your own free will.”
Again she nodded.
“Then I must see to it that you do so. I will join the crew and stand guard by your side against all
comers.”
“I would so dearly love that, Toad, but you mustn't ruin your own career just for me!”
He glanced down at his uniform. That of an Imperial Marine.
“Highne – Prin – Pea –”
“Liszpo. The Marquise Lizspo Rochambeau.”
“Your... Ladyship, I am, and always have been, of the Mushroom Kingdom first. My duty is to you
above all others.”
Tetra chose that moment to rush in, cutlass drawn. The bodies on the floor and their positions told
the story, the same being true of Peach's and Toad's otherwise-relaxed stances.
Toad read Tetra's stance in turn, as well as Peach's, and stayed cautiously still, assuming parade rest.
“That first one's hers,” he nodded.
That first one was a bloody mess. His limbs were broken in multiple places, his belly even now
distending from internal hemorrhages, bruising showing on most of the exposed skin. It took a moment
for her to register that his head was facing backward.
Peach gave a tentative smile, part nervous uncertainty and part proud self-confidence.
“Bare handed again, eh?”
Peach gave a nervous shrug and nodded.
“W-e-ll... I didn't want to hurt him.”
Tetra's mouth slid open as her eyebrows knitted, then she blinked firmly, trying to process this, and
5 Electro-sword: it actually cycles between 0.15 A and 15 A, thus often causing death by fibrillation and providing the psychological
effect to others witnessing the seared flesh.
finally cast a glance to Toad as if to ask Do you see what I have to contend with?
Surprisingly, or perhaps not so surprisingly, he returned the look with one of a sympathetic Yup,
she's always been this way...
Sheathing her cutlass, Tetra strode to Peach and drew her into a tight embrace.
“Oh, Nayru, I'm so sorry baby. It was bloody hell oat there, an' I couldnae ge' here any sooner.”
Peach stroked her hair and patted her back as Toad stood carefully at ease, eyes front, face devoid of
expression.
Releasing Peach, Tetra turned to him.
“You're Imperial,” she stated.
He nodded briskly.
“Aren't you a little short for an Imperial Marine?” she wondered absently.
“You're a Toad,” she continued, directing her attention to him once more.
Again an affirmative.
Tetra reached her conclusion quickly, neither thought nor calculation required in this instance.
“Then yore tae return tae yore du'y station forthwith an' report the situation. We sough' tae engage
yore services; you acted as if so inclined, an' slipped ship once a storm bese' us,” she informed him
crisply, “are we clear?”
“Yes, your Imper–”
“Tss!” Peach shushed him again.
“Yes... Captain?” he offered.
Tetra sighed, “Ehm, Admiral, in truth – but aye, anyt'in' but what you'd ha' been sayin' man.”
O ~~~ O
Chapter 6: Home... home, again
Giant mushrooms in Kokiri forest (a swollen version of norm), which engulfs Lake Hylia. Fridays
here, living with their clan. Don't visit to keep from drawing attention to it.
“ 'sgood ta see the Scooby Gang back together,” Sonic smiled.

“I missed you guys so much! Ohh, it's so good to smell you guys again!” Peach hurled herself into
him and Tails, pulling them tight into a group hug.
“Ya' sayin' we stink, P?” he asked, mock indignation curling his brow.
Ruru squealed gleefully and dove into Peach's breasts for a hug.
Peach missed his humor entirely.
“No,” opening her mouth slightly, lifting her face and leaning her head forward a touch to better
sniff the air, “I mean that,” pointing with her eyes at the air around her.
“The pack-scent,” she insisted.
Ruru cocked her right brow, squinted her left eye, and tilted her head to the right, “Eto... cho-tto ma-
tte...” she said as she peered and poked at Peach's nose, inspecting it as if looking for a secret door.
Sonic blinked rapidly, then glanced at Tails, who was grinning away happily in Peach's arms as she
held him on her hip as if he were a toddler.
“You can smell that?” he asked her.
“Oh, yeah,” Tails realized, pulling his head back and tilting it in surprise, “Peach is half-Human,
isn't she? I guess it is kinda weird, huh?”
Zelda nudged Peach in the ribs. Tilting her head at Sonic, she wiggled her eyebrows enthusiastically
to Peach and said “G'head – brag about your cake-muffin-bread!”
Sonic looked back to Peach, “What about... the bread?”
=====
Sonic was lecturing Peach as they prepared for dinner, “So I scored us some pai lo 'n' fresh ginger at
this shop, man. Yer gonna love this shit. I dunno how good it'll go with this sauce I brought back from
the Wolfen Nations though – an' Tails got in real good with the old medicine woman shaman chick, so I
got ta watch her make this stuff, so yer gonna learn how ta do it, too. Some real good shit, but they
might be too different ta balance easily.”
“When were you there? You didn't mention that!”
“Well, y'know, with one thing 'n' another... when we dropped you guys off at Freeport, we took a
detour north. We make better time on our own, so there was plenty ta spare, an' no fear o' danger, so we
figured why not. Anyways, while we were there, we got some shit they call buffalo sauce, on account o'
the fact that they use it on what they call buffalo. Not real imaginative, I know. You should see the rest
o' their names – Waterford, Fish Flats, Scrum, even a place called Buffalo fer that exact reason, which
is where we got this stuff incidentally, an' lemme tell ya, those ain't buffalo like I ever seen, triceratops
maybe, or some kinda megatherium-thing, but not buffalo, maybe I should call 'em tritheralo, same
difference – point is, it's freakin' awesome sauce, an' it really does go great with buffalo, or tritheralo,
or whatever, but we could prob'ly make do with chicken or cow or some'n.”
“The Wolfen Nations. I've always wanted to go there; it sounds so romantic!” she smiled and
glanced over toward Zelda before continuing her thought, “Not many buffalo around here, I suppose...”
“Yeah, yer right, Z'd love it there; Wolfen performances are schlock – nuttin' but melodrama,
pantomime, choruses, schmaltz, an' kinda sophomoric – but O.K. once ya get that, then there's their
music – not my thing, but a catchy upbeat I think ya'd really like, they call it 'swing' – and there're
plenty o' good fights. It's their idea of entertainment ta get together a party-war – not a 'war party,'
a'ight, a 'party-war' – an' just go balls-out wit' whoever's up for it; usually it's just more Wolfen, but
they got a pretty good thing goin' with the Scrum Dwarves 1 on their western edge over by Badder
Country. Kick each other's asses fer a bit, burn the dead, then trade a few goods between the groups an'
get roarin' drunk together, cullin' their respective herds o' kangarat and capybara ta' roast. 'course, them
'n' the Dwarves are generally both all staggerin' drunk before they even start the fights, so mostly it's
just everybody tossin' blankets over conked-out bodies ta sleep it off, then watchin' an' hecklin' as a few
o' the least-drunk take a few clumsy swings at each other. It's all real nice an' peaceful, act'chly –
though ya gotta keep an eye out fer Tequila Monsters.”
Peaceful? Yeah, an' more civilized than this crap.
“But as fer the buffalo P, this is Hyrule! If it's any kinda food, you can get it here. Only prob'm is
maybe the price. S'pose we could liberate some though...”
Peach was still lost in thoughts of the east as he started eyeballing the meat market down the street.
“Ya never did tell me about that weird hook-thing on yer belt. What gives, anyway?”
“This?” she asked, lifting a hook shaped device for his inspection, “It's a cesta. It's used in this game
where people toss a ball around, and it's really fun, but kind of dangerous. Well, that got me thinking,
and I realized that even with as lethal as a sling can be, it can only get up to around one hundred miles
per hour, and these could be even better, so I redesigned one in wood for a little more weight, added a
few vents to reduce wind resistance, and a few other modifications, and it turns out that with just a little
practice you can launch stones at up to one hundred eighty-eight miles per hour2! I'm thinking about
1 Scrum Dwarves: Barbarian clans. They love sheep for food, steeds, and... other activities.
+2 To Hit & +2 Dam bonus with head butts, and +2 AC & -2 DR bonus when taking a hit to the head (aside from simple practice,
they have remarkably thick skulls). For gaming purposes, consider it a headbutt-specific free automatic bonus racial feat of Improved
Unarmed Strike (though only ±1 as a free automatic bonus cultural feat, if the (N)PC isn't genetically a Scrum Dwarf or other thick-
skulled species, or magically altered, or what have you). There's also Stunning Headbutt, but that's not automatic or a bonus per se.
Picture them as being something like drunken 'teens (or '60s bikers) with heavy metal and/or punk in the park on a Friday night.
Scrum Dwarves basically party, raid, fight, build a bonfire, drink some more, and pass out. They're also surprisingly indifferent about
other (N)PC species for rutting purposes. The women are the same as the men. Nihilistically thrill-seeking, hedonistically oriented
sources; adventurous with minimal requirements and limited imagination. Space Rats-light [Blakes 7, “Stardrive”], Nord-light and
Mags [Dr. Who, “Psychic circus”], and The Young Ones capture some of their essence, as do WHFRPG Dwarves (tone down WH's
tattoos ~10% and increase their punk and new wave haircuts ~30%). Weres and berserkrs are fêted, heyoka greatly welcomed (taken
less than seriously, but more than merely humored). Where the Wolfen basically stress the 'teen-like nature, the Scrum Dwarves focus
on the drunkenness aspect.
They're basically CN Droogs (“A clockwork orange”, Anthony Burgess, 1962), rather than CE (though in their case, they're not
strongly philosophically aligned – it's more as if they have vaguely TN personalities with definite Chaotic traits; what might be written
as TN(C), though C(TN) would be more apt). Palladium might be better for this case: Selfish [Anarchist] or Evil [Aberrant], with rare
cases otherwise (usually Good [Taoist] or Evil [Miscreant], maybe Selfish [Unprincipled]). WoD might be best, but too much to get
into in a footnote.
2 Cesta: from the game of jai alai. Slings are indeed worthy weapons, but cestas certainly attain higher muzzle velocities, so to speak
trying one with a little more give at the tip, and maybe a slightly different curve overall, to see if I can
eke out just a little more power from it, and maybe I can add a groove to launch darts better without
messing up the stone throwing – though you know, now that I think about it, if I were to simply dimple
the stones' surfaces, then I could reduce their overall friction...”
“Cool shit. An' what's wit' that weird horn?”
Peach's eyes lit up, “It's a vuvuzela – I can totally disable threats at one hundred twenty seven
decibels without hurting them too much! I got the idea from talking with the ship's bard.”
“...an' the three mouths?”
“Oh, that's to create a chord – a harmonic resonance. Together, they cause a harsh, grating effect that
unnerves anyone who hears it. Much more effective that way.”
Sonic tilted his head at this, impressed with her results and wondering just what other tricks she
might have up her sleeve.
“Nice one there, P. Very nice.”
“Have you ever seen people torching cheese?” she asked him as they passed an open front
restaurant, “Softening it up like mozzarella, but using gruyère instead, or Emmental?”
“Well, sorta. They usually just let it face a fire an' sit aroun' talkin' while it softens up... hey, yeah –
an' that might... oh hey, I got it, a'ight, we use the cheese as the openin' course, right, throw the buffalo
sauce in a dippin' bowl fer chicken – easier than riskin' stirrin' up shit with a five finger discount gone
bad – along with this other sauce I brought back, some shit called hoisin, you'll really go fer that one,
especially with charred chicken or seared duck... man, the Wolfen did this crazy shit with air under the
ducks' skins and you wouldn't believe the results, an' we can maybe work up the pai lo inta some kind
o' sauce too an' throw that in a third bowl. Anyway, the best part is Tails got the actual recipes offa the
ol' lady at this one camp, so we can always make more! I couldn't really get most o' what they said, but
he seemed ta pick it up O.K.. So, waddya think?”
“I think that it needs some balance. That's a lot of meat and sauce.”
“Nice. Good observation. Howsabout some orange sauce, maybe dip some broccoli in the cheese,
throw down some Brussels sprouts 'n' more cheese on the side?”
“A fondue? We'll need some carbohydrates too, and your vegetables are all green.”
“Uh-huh, and?”
“And... so we need to stop by a green grocer for some red-orange vegetables, shoots, roots, and so
forth. The colors indicate a general pattern of nutrition contents.”
“You got it babe!”
“See! I told you that I was paying attention.”
“Humph. O.K., so sniff this pouch o' pai lo then,” Sonic said as he withdrew a packet from his
satchel, “an' tell me if ya don't think it maybe wouldn't go better in a pork 'n' shrimp dumpling stew,
'steada as just another sauce; toss in some peppers an' see where we go from there...”
“ – and we could pick up some sea salt, too!”
“Smoked sea salt...?” he asked.
(though 84 m/s is still rather less than pistols' typical muzzle velocities of 200-400 m/s, and perhaps 1,000+ m/s for rifles, but close to
crossbows' 100+ m/s). Recall what you've learned from “Zombies & calculus” (Colin Adams, 2014): the force of a bat-launched
baseball is perhaps 900 N, whereas cracking a [human] skull takes ~10,000 N; a 5 oz baseball at 90 mph (40 m/s) isn't likely to
succeed at this (though it could still be lethal) – a cesta-launched stone at twice that speed is <4/5 as non-skull-cracking (presumably
Peach would need to be careful about rib cages, noses, temples, throats, spines, vital organs, etc.), and should have a max range of
<720 meters (more usually <460 m). As for specific moving-targets (massed troops being spray-and-pray lead in the air)... I'd guess
that you're looking at an effective range of ~20-40 m (maybe ~40-80 m for stationary targets).
For comparison and contrast, consider the golfing record of a 418 m drive and longest batted baseball record of 200 m.
The similar principle of a mousetrap might launch a small item at 15-30 m/s, so probably only good for poison-tipped needles. They
seem to be in the range of 10N of force to set, yielding ~1-2 J energy, so not really much.
Peach grinned with a decadent anticipation, twitching her nose, “Ash-smoked sea salt... with just a
dash of truffles?”
“Noice,” he replied, “snootchie bootchies. Maybe marinate some chicken wit' some strong zesty
Italian dressin' an' a decent hint o' mayo, toss it in the pan an' throw some really thick Italian dressin'
onta that, 'n' just let 'er bake...”
They continued to discuss the possibilities as they shopped, and she gradually talked him into a light
and simple stir fry with zucchini to make the flavors pop in the main course, followed by parfaits for
dessert. This would require a side trip to the Wolfen specialties shop for rice vinegar and sesame oil,
but it was certain to be worth the effort. He, in turn, suggested following this with Turkish coffee, and
she was quite taken with the idea – grounds so fine as to be practically dust, multiple boilings... it
enchanted her just to imagine it, leading to visions of fairy tale lands of floating dandelions, which led
her to suggest confectioners' sugar zeppole to go with it.
This reminded her of another dessert that she'd been working on, about which she'd been wanting to
compare notes with him: shahi tukda – toasted brioche soaked in a simple saffron syrup with Amrut
rum, then coated with a cardamom rabri and sprinkled with a mix of cashews, pecans, pistachios, rose
petals, and sorghum – paired with a nicely aged Madeira. They opted to hold off on the zeppole as
treats to top off a midnight surprise-snack of salmon lightly seasoned with pink sea salt and truffles,
though this prompted some further tentative plans for the next day's lunch of cod with lemon and tartar
sauce.
The meal plan that they ended up with bore little resemblance to his original suggestion, but this
didn't bother him at all since he hadn't had his heart set on it nor had it been his goal. She had indeed
been studying while away, and it showed.
Sonic had to smile.
She's thinkin' in a lot broader terms now, integratin' flavors across themes an' in counterpoint on the
fly, an' she spotted the crappy bits 'n' spoke up. Cool. Nah: way fuckin' cool. Wonder if Z's noticed any
o' this...
=====
“Squishy-poos?” Sonic asked, unsure himself of whether he were simply curious, or mildly teasing, or
worried for her.
The moon was still low to the horizon and the sun was just setting. Crickets were beginning to chirp
their romantic overtures as the last of the fireflies began their nightly rounds over the goldenrod and
milkweed in desperate bids to find mates. The few Poe-spirits in the area had learned to keep a wary
distance, their ethereal forms wavering gently hither and thither across the field.
They sat at the edge of a pond, right at the mouth of a stream, fishing lines to either side. A few
baskets of fish sat nearby, and one entirely of eels, with the net drying from their earlier haul. They had
quite a few frogs bound up in one of the nets, and they'd had to improvise with the crayfish. Peach had
expressed hopes of trying her hand at jellied eel soon, and had an eye toward garlic and ginger with a
little coriander; at the moment, she was collecting alder wood for the fish.
“Aye,” Zelda replied with gusto, her teeth showing in her smile, her eyes keen as she conjured
memories of the previous night, “She's soft and squidgy, and jiggles in all of the right places.”
“Whatever. I ain't gonna ride ya. You've lightened up a lot, Z, it's just... man, ya' gotta be yankin' my
chain, right?”
“I thought that this was what you wanted to see – her and me together?”
“Yeah, I do. You guys're good fer each other, an' I'm glad to see you finally happy. Just don't lose
yerself, y'know?”
He eyeballed his now-empty bottle.

“Shit. Beer me?”
She reached into the stream for another of the local-brew ale.
“...you think that I'm rushing it?” Zelda asked as she handed it to him.
“No, I don't think shit. Fuckin' mazel tov, man... but I still see ya' divin' in headlong as usual, not
payin' attention ta fuck-all else.”
He took a sip and made a foul face.
“Remind me again why we got this crap?”
“It's all that they had,” she shrugged.
“Fuckin' piss-water with bubbles. Might go O.K. wit' P's étouffée tonight, though. An' hey, what's
with the frogs in Hyrule, anyway? It's like they wanna get gigged or some'n. Ain't like that nowhere
else.”
Zelda could only shrug.
“Anywhere around here we can maybe get some asparagus 'n' lemon? I wanna pair some wit'
yakisoba an' Tso chicken, ta balance things out.”
“Back where we got the ale, perhaps.”
“Hell, why not. Let's jet. We can call it a beer run, an' get another case or two o' this sorry excuse fer
shit while we're at it. Drink enough of it an' maybe we'll forget ta notice how much it sucks, huh?”
=====
Passing by several waterfront taverns, Zelda snorted derisively at one.

Peach had been admiring it, rather taken by the décor. The sign was marvelous, with a shimmering
brocade all along the edges, and a magnificent deformed sea beast standing hauriant guardant across
the board – legs ending in cloven hooves, tentacles from the torso, a long serpentine fish tail and a
broad mouth with gnashing teeth; peculiarly, there were small radiant horns curling up from just above
its forelocks, with more beams shining from its fœtid-looking beard and barbels. It was carrying a tray
piled high with food.
“It's the Bull and Scones, Princess. A tourist trap franchise dive. One in every waterway village, and
several in most waterfront towns. All of the barmaids have parrot-dolls strapped to their shoulders and
their blouses unstrapped, with a limited vocabulary tae match their limited cloth. The only thing ye
might find of worth there would be rarebit or steak and kidney pie – and even that's more than made up
for by a leaky roof over the bar! Well, those and maybe some half-decent fish 'n' chips, unless you
count crabs as a good option.”
“Mmm, I love crab!”
“Not these crabs, ye don't.”
Peach was left to puzzle over this as they continued along the wharf.
Whereas the boards had been free of warps and splinters near the Bull and Scones, and the piles had
hinted of pitch and sea breeze, the area that they now entered took a decided turn for the seedier.
Warps and splinters seemed to comprise the bulk of the boards, odd pools of pitch smeared haphazardly
at random points, and the air smelled only of dead seaweed, rotting fish, stagnant brine, and streams of
urine and vomit, with an afterthought of week-old cooking oil that had begun its life rancid. Even the
sunlight felt as if it were a miasma that harbored untoward plans for all present, including the small
hordes of sickly pigeons.
The Pigswain's Eye.
Local lang Low Imperial Common.
Ask after three jolly pigeons, meet w/ orig Tetra.

Ex-pirate now a smuggler, pays the bills; tavern connects to pawn shop. Bonny Anne; goes by Capt
Christabel Pike these days (S floored, BA notes that she'd gone by Roberta April for a while, S replies
“Of course...”), has pretty-boy named Mary with cat ears – a Nekomusuko, as it were. Like looking
into a mirror from the past, though her features were somewhat more masculine than Tetra's, her skin a
few shades lighter with just a tinge of sunburn to it, and her hair now bore a reddish hue.
Sonic's eyes darted to the cappuccino machine in Anne's office. Ever ready to have his hopes smashed,
he immediately strode to the counter, opening drawers and cabinet doors.
Badda-bing, he snapped his fingers.
“Hey! P! C'mere! She's actually got – no-shit – cappuccino-flavored cappuccino! Some'n I just can't
find fer shit with all the flavored crap everywhere I look. I mean, seriously, the shit I run into all over
the place ain't coffee, it's freakin' dessert!”
“Ooh! I forgot to tell you! We saw a whole bunch of dolphins and porpoises and things, and they
were so sweet!” Peach's enthusiasm was always contagious, and her non sequitur shortly had Sonic rapt
in her tale of oceanic discoveries.
He downed two cappuccinos in rapid succession as she went on about the coral reefs and starfish,
and all of the beautiful fish that they'd eaten and how she'd felt bad about that but had eaten them
anyway, especially after the chef had shown her how to properly perform ikejime to spike their
hindbrain for a humane death, and some sea serpents that she'd spotted along with some whales and
even a couple of really pretty kirin with shimmering rainbow scales, and she'd really hoped to see some
Mermaids – just the nice ones, though, not the others – and how Zelda had had Nazgûl dock for a while
at an uncharted island full of mangroves so that she could show her how to ride a histoikthys 3, and then
they got to swim in the storm surge of a hurricane, and there had even been a lioness who'd been
separated from one of her cubs by the storm and an elephant that had swum far out to the rocks beyond
the lagoon to carry the screaming cub back in her trunk.
“Hang on a sec there. You went swimmin' in a hurricane's freakin' storm surge?”
“Mm-hmm! It sounded like fun – and it was!”
Caught between several reactions and complete incomprehension, it was all that he could do to
shake his head to clear it.
All of this took only a few minutes before they rejoined the others at the table with a couple of huge
cappuccinos loaded heavily with amaretto and a tray holding a large pile of anise-almond and
chocolate-pistachio cantucci and rum-brandy fudge-balls with coconut shavings – though all told, it felt
3 Histoikthys: a shellfish with a dorsal fin that acts as a sail. Proper manipulation of sensitive nerve points controls their speed and
heading. Overall size typically varies between water-ski and a five-person motorboat, though specimens beyond this range occur.
more as if twenty minutes had passed.

Peach saw no threat in Captain Pike, but still sat down quite proprietarily next to Zelda, rubbing
against her just a little – enough to mark her territory at least – then carefully removed a piece of lint
that wasn't there.
It took Sonic a moment to reset his ears to less-gushing speech.
As Peach picked out a few cantucci and fudge-balls, he turned to Pike and asked “Ya maybe got any
cannoli or tiramisù 'round here? An' I don't mean no freakin' cream horn crap. Or how 'bout some o'
them sugar-glazed cinnamon-honey rolls wit' ground-up nuts?”
She glanced at Mary and gave a sharp jerk of her chin to retrieve some of each.
“Grazie,” Sonic added as Mary turned away.
“And some finger sandwiches?” Tails hastened to add before Mary could make the door, bringing a
smile of anticipation to Ruru's face.
Pike's gaze returned to Zelda, then shifted to Sonic.
“Right. So what trouble comes my way this time, cailín?” she asked.
Zelda and Sonic exchanged looks.
“Anne, c'mon now... why wouldja think we're any trouble, huh?”
She rolled her eyes at him.
“Is always trouble, with Moose and Squirrel.”
As the afternoon wore on, they brought one another up to date over plates of baked ziti with ricotta and
sausage with peppers. Wolfen have been trading around Freeport with Algroth meat and bones; trading
at all, much less Algroth, shocks Z. the Algroth have been coming down from the mountains, and the
Wolfen are only too glad to reduce their surplus population. They also give details of strange monsters,
never seen before.
Confirmed rumors of Draugr in the northern Sea of Storms and across the Enchanted Sea.
P: Draugr?
Z holds hand up to BA
→ P: they're a myth – ye know those zombie stories that I like so much?
P nods
Z: it's because they're not real. A simple evil, easily combated and dispatched. A clear foe.
P waited
Z: She's saying that Draugr are real. They're Zombies of the drowned, possessed and haunted by
their own Ghosts.
CP: last year, constant rumors of Barrow Wights and disappearances all along the coast, but mostly
just good-for-nothings or ne'er-do-wells and sometimes an Imperial Marine out to sea. Then whole
ships this spring. Since mid-summer, confirmed sightings from those who chose to set sail together for
security. And the corpses are always the same: either bilge rat meisceoirí or Marines, though that'll
change some now, with the merchant ships being taken.
S and T both twitch their ears, and they look up from their plates as they toss down the last bites of
their tuna melts.
S Stand by...
Both twitch some more.
S They're he-e-ere. The Pig's Hat mighta been a bit more useful fer this...
Z holds his gaze a moment, then gives tiny nod toward the main bar room.
After a moment of thinking it all through, zelda sets a small velvet pouch on the table.
CP glances toward the door to ensure no observers, then carefully cracks open the bag.
Giving only a bored look of vague interest, she murmurs that she can move the gems, but they look
high value indeed, so it'll take a while.
BA pushes it back toward Z, Z cocks head with hand swipe negating.
Z cheers, love – this'll be expensive. Ta!
CP ...?
S What the fuck, liver lips? Am I talkin' ta you – yeah, I'm talkin' ta you, sizzle chest. I must be
talkin' ta you. Ya see anyone else here? Who the fuck you think I'm talkin' to, numb nuts? You just
spilled alla my drinks on me, beefy-tits! What's with that, you some kinda mamaluke?
CP Och, no – not like this; not like...
An expensive crash and tinkling noises carried in from the main room, followed by roars and
cheering and the sound of smashing wood.
CP's mind wanders to brass. The chandler should be able to rebuild her place well with brass. Nice,
solid, unbreakable, non-shattering brass; no-splinters brass...
Z Got a priest-hole in your office, I fancy?
CP gives a slow, despondent nod toward a ratty rug in the corner as Sonic barrels in.
With a grave look on his face, he turned to Anne.
“Save the cappuccino machine!”
Then quick as a wink, he disappeared down the trapdoor to the sound of Imperial Marines entering
the building at the height of the brawl.
=====
They headed northward through the Faron countryside over the next few days, skirting the larger towns
for the most part, but needed to follow up on recent leads. That meant a city, preferably a seaport for
the next leg of their journey. Over the next week and a half, they made their way to Eldin, skirting
through the northeastern portion of Kokiri Forest. It was a risk, but the best option available.
As they wandered through Regnants' Park, Zelda grew uneasy.
“I stayed under this bridge once,” she remarked as they crossed over a brook, heading south
“Wouldn't recommend it; drafty, the room service is for shit, and they have an early checkout.”
Thinking back to that evening, her eyes narrowed in suspicion at the lamp lighting the pathway. The
blue lamp. The Nayru-blue lamp.
The whole sparked a memory for her, and so she led the party to a nearby rock formation as the dusk
gathered and the park lights came on, illuminating warm glowing pastel islands throughout the acres of
the manicured lawn. Glancing up, it was just as she'd remembered it from years past: a small opening,
seemingly to a cave, about twenty feet up, some small bushes and reeds clinging to the ledge and
mostly obscuring even that much. The rock face would hardly inconvenience them, but presented a
fairly sheer surface to most passersby.
As they considered it for the night, a soft, sanctimonious, tenor whine came from behind them,
“That's what they make paths for, you know.”
Sonic was immediately irate, but could barely contain his laughter as he turned to see a thin Human
with a hair bun and his carefully trimmed beard waxed into a short, sharp fork. He wore hiking boots
and camouflage cargo shorts beneath a thick-striped button-down T-shirt, and was walking a pekingese
with a little red bow in its hair.
Izzat a fuckin' cranberry-avocado frappe? Might as well be drinkin' a recycled enema. Oh, fer fuck's
sake – even the freakin' yip-shit has one!
“Yeah. Calm yer tits there, Snowflake.”
“I'm on the Citizens' Patrol, you know, and I know what you're up to. If you're still here when Bun-
bun and I return, I'll report you all, and see to it that you each get two demerits!”
At this, even Peach had to struggle between a placid response and laughing outright.
Sonic noticed this with some misgiving, sparing her reaction a moment of consideration, but
returned to the matter at hand.
“Fuckin' pendejo, man...” he growled to himself, wiping his hand down his face.
Tails stepped in to prevent further escalation. “Yes sir. We won't make any trouble, sir!”
The man didn't seem to believe this, his lips tightening a pinch and his nostrils flaring slightly, but
gave them a warning once-over, and continued his walk with a few pointed looks back over his
shoulder.
“Ja ne!” Ruru called out in a sarcastically friendly tone as she thumbed her nose, then swung her
arm around and up from behind her other hand, topping it with her thumb thrust between her index and
middle fingers in a fist.
Sonic turned to Zelda in disgust, “Yer sure you wanna save schmucks like that from Warbotdorf?”
She shifted her head to one side and then the other, as if debating the matter.
O ~~~ O
Chapter 7: The Fall of the House of Duhan

Peach railed on, “So you've been on the run, fighting the regent's forces piecemeal for almost nine
years, and haven't made any real headway. Your army consists of us and some long-haired anarchists
who sit around talking in darkened rooms, plus a small fleet that you use sporadically. Isn't that a little
cliché? You'd get a lot more done if you approached it as if it were indeed the military campaign that it
truly is. This reads like something out of a dime novel. Hell, you even saved a princess who ended up
falling in love with you and winning over your heart against all odds! On top of that, you have a history
of clashing with the bad guy in past lives, and getting nowhere fast. Is that all that the future of this
world holds? Endless battles with no resolution? You're like a couple of kids playing catch-me-if-you-
can; neither you nor he has leveraged your resources against the other.”
They'd made port in a small town in northwestern Donkey Kong Country. It was a quiet region,
given over mostly to farming.
Zelda contemplated Peach's words. “Thus the master learns from the padawan...” she said at last.
Peach blinked at her.
“I dunno. Something Sonic's said a few times.”
“Why do you think things are the way that they are? Look around you. Does all of this seem
sensible? Different levels of technology everywhere, different magics, redundant approaches to doing
the exact same things, the same story played out in a fugue, dozens of sentient races coexisting. It's all
about time. The Sheikah Wars screwed it all up. I think that it's all connected in some way, a lot like the
gate guard at Freeport was thinking, except more dream-like.”
“– making me wonder if you mean fugue musically or psychologically,” Zelda replied, “Look,
different cultures and traditions have different interests and approaches. It's not that big a deal. Cantrips
and laser pointers and mind tricks all add up to the same thing, so nobody much bothers with using
others' techniques.”
“Maybe they should. What if there's something more that could be done in combination?” Peach
gestures to the books and scrolls strewn across the study, the screen full of electronic documents, the
dwimmer crystals. “Duhan remains, behind its veil. Adventurers, heroes, villains, and base treasure
hunters have entered and never returned, but I don't think that they're gone. The magics that cast it out
are lost to us, but we still have clues about their workings and aims. I don't think that they were meant
to destroy, but to hold. Beyond that... I don't know. Of one thing I'm certain. We must find out. It sits
heavy and menacing, but there is no other solution.”
She turned to Sonic in exasperation.
“ 'snot my world, man. I can't hit Warbotdorf on my own, no matter how much I wanna. I fucked
that up a'ready, an' lookit what happened. I'm no strategist, just tactics. Ya do whatcher paycheck can
afford, an' this is way above my pay-grade, P; I gotta go wit' Z's say-so, or nuttin'.”
Peach soon comes into her own.

Wherever they go, Peach talks to people, to everyone. She doesn't make speeches or implore the
masses. She simply talks about whatever troubles befall them, the worsening state of public affairs, the
increasing dearth of wild game. She listens, affirms, reassures, guides them to discover their own
answers.
=====
Tails looked up as Peach exited the tent. “I didn't know that you had a washbowl in there; your face is
glistening! Were you guys exercising? And why do you pray so loudly? Every night you wake me up
with 'Oh my Stars, my Gods, oh sages!' – or Zelda does, with her cursing so much. She must have a lot
of bad dreams these days.”
Ambushed, she squirmed for an answer.
“Lay off, pixel brain,” Sonic said, coming from the brook, “It's early, fer shit's sake. Let 'er find
some bushes, then ya can pester her.”
Peach shot him a thankful look and scurried away.
Zelda came out a minute later.

(Later) S: Ya do know there ain't no one in camp who don't know when you're, uh... shtuppin', right
P?
P: Meeps! Peach shrinks into herself and asks Zelda if they can get a quieter tent.
=====
The party waited with bated breath as a shadowy form lumbered away into the gloom.
They couldn't believe what they'd just witnessed.
They had stumbled into a grotesque scene, barely coming to a halt without making their presence
known. What had once clearly been a man, and was now little more than a mindless monster, had been
feeding on something. A disheveled corpse, blood having streamed from its orifices long ago, now
crusted and filthy. At the height of its feast, the form had simply stopped eating after having devoured
much of the body with relish, and wandered off, the corpse still twitching spasmodically. Both of these
creatures wore green caps with the letter “L” emblazoned thereon. They had seen quite a few caps of
the sort throughout the woods in this area, of different colors and with various letters. Many of them
looked very old, moldering and tattered, some nearly unrecognizable, but most had one clearly
distinguishable feature to them: blood stains. This forest was an abattoir.
With the creature almost gone, the corpse sat up slowly, its joints creaking, a slight glow discernible
in its eyes. It gathered itself to its feet, a few false starts before fully achieving this, and shambled
away.
Some minutes passed before anyone felt that it were safe to breathe. Zelda glanced around for a
distraction, something to break their tension.
Peach suddenly squealed, blushing crimson and covering her rear. Tails looked behind her
quizzically, and asked Zelda “Why did you pinch Peach's butt?”
Zelda couldn't be bothered with much of a cover story, but sought to humor Peach's reserved manner
in any event. “Pinched it? Oh well, yes, pinched... because I wasn't sure if we were dreaming what just
happened.”
Peach indignantly muttered something about “Pinched it?!? You just shoved your fing–”, while
Sonic tried unsuccessfully to cover a smirk.
He stared off after the now departed corpses, “Death's only the beginnin', eh?”
Zelda looked around the clearing, “Anyone else need a blunt, after that? I have a few to spare, so
speak up now.”
Sonic glanced over at her, still trying to clear his head of this latest turn of events. “Ya know what?
Just this once, yeah. Do me a solid.”
“Where does she keep all of them, anyway?” Peach asked him, “I mean, I know where her cigar
case is, but it can't possibly hold as many as she smokes.”
“Hell if I know. Hammerspace maybe? I'm still tryna figure out where she even gets 'em all in the
first place,” he replied, “Z, this shit's clean, right?”
Zelda's only reply was a withering look that as much as said that he was an idiot for even asking.
She lit one and passed it to Peach, who took it gratefully.
Sonic stared into the woods some more, “Oh yeah, I just fuckin' love it when a plan comes together.
Embrace the suck. Yo, P, remind me ta tell Barbara they're comin'a get 'er.”
Zelda eyed the shambling group, weighing their odds.

“Ya wanna live forever?” Sonic asked nobody in particular.
“I've been doing an acceptable job of it, so far,” Peach grumbled nervously.
=====
Practicing tiger-plays-with-ball, focusing her chi, the air sparks between her hands. Peach had been
working on an idea. In staying loose and fluid, one could slip through the air effortlessly without the
tiniest sound. In focusing chi through a knuckle or fingertip, or even a palm-heel strike, one could
achieve a devastating blow, especially if the focus were both built up and released as briefly as
possible, thus causing a surge of enormous density. Sent through a knife hand to the armpit or a spear
hand or half-fist adjacent the groin would be enough to cause a not-quite-instant death; elsewhere
should result in pulverized organs and a prolonged and excruciating death.
In holding only a fraction of such a surge continuously, permitting the flow to build up
incrementally like a plastic ball crossing charged strips in a bowl, she should be able to create and
sustain a large force to be released at a moment's notice. Releasing it from a whip hand though...
She develops the ability to throw fire balls.
Sonic congratulates her on her hadōken, “Ya done good there, George.”
=====
Kong Manor, a sprawling region of buildings laid out across several acres of jungle deep in the heart of
Donkey Kong Country. Parts of it were given over to wild growth while others were open air atria,
roofed areas without walls, isolated walls unconnected to anything, baths interchangeable with natural
features... In ways, it has some consistency like a small community, domiciles and storerooms and
recreation halls interspersed throughout. The theme is hard to identify, thick timbers and delicate
wattles represented equally, lacquered woods vying with rough-hewn stone, all set not only across the
grounds, but upward through the trees and often enough buried within the hills. It put Peach in mind of
Orcish yurt-halls in tales that she'd read, filled with dragons and mead, and of some of the more elegant
structures that she'd seen back in Freeport.
They had received a cryptic message from Daisy to seek out Donkey Kong. She'd made it fairly
clear before that he had been a resistance sympathizer throughout, but it was only with a great deal of
argument that they had finally decided to pay her heed and follow her instructions, and then only
because she wouldn't have sent anything without significant impetus.
Sonic began to wonder if there were any princesses who simply sat around their royal court and
princessed things.
Untrusting of him, Zelda accepted Daisy's assessments, but remained unconvinced as yet of their
veracity. Upon their arrival directly through the front gate, she had opened discussions with a direct
accusation and demand for explanation. He had indeed apologized profusely, and over the course of it
had explained that he had deliberately ensured that security was minimal and lax on the evening of
Zelda's raid. House Kong had kidnapped Peach at Warbotdorf's behest to prevent retribution should
they not do so.
“Well. That explains something that's bothered me ever since that night. There was hardly anyone
roaming the grounds, no guard on Peach's room, and her door was unlatched,” Zelda thought aloud.
Sonic motioned to a steward, “Coffee, turbodiesel, loads of it.”
He hovered uncertainly.
Sonic rolled his eyes and gave a growling, frustrated sigh, “Really thick shit, rich 'n' complex body,
wit' enough caffeine ta make y'ancestors jump outta the grave an' slap ya. An' no fruity-ass flavored
shit: real freakin' coffee. Don't forget tons o' cream an' sugar. Cookies, too. Maybe some stale crullers –
not really greasy at all, or they won't soak up the coffee, just stiff 'n' crunchy, like zwieback, wit' just
enough sugar ta taste sweet-ish – oh yeah, an' some custard fills wit' chocolate icing, maybe some
strawberry jelly filled too, wit' powdered sugar over the top. And sandwiches, while yer at it. This is
gonna take a while.”
The steward nodded and hurried away.
They chose to remain at Kong Manor for the time being.

Zelda takes Peach for a walk. Zelda remains quiet for most of it. They reach a koi pond, crossing
its footbridge to a tiny island in the middle of the pond. The pond teems with fish, not all koi, and is
covered in lily pads. She sits at the edge of a small stone fountain, water burbling from bamboo pipes
that made infrequent musical clunks when overbalanced.
“I've denied my heart for too long. That we should each bear the other's claiming-scent mark 1 makes
it irrefutable,” Zelda opened. This scent had come to the fore in the weeks since Hyrule, and borne
itself down upon her thoughts.
Peach had been increasingly on edge during their walk, and was now more nervous by the moment.
“Our world is on yet another cusp of history, and we stand at the eye of this storm, but life goes on
around us even as we speak.”
Peach's eyes tensed, her nerves felt as if she were standing atop the edge of a cliff.
Zelda slid from the low frieze to the ground at Peach's feet. She took Peach's hand and looked up
into her eyes.
“Peach Toadstool, will you be my queen?”
Peach burst out crying with joy. The world spun around her. In her dreams she had imagined this,
but in truth hadn't dared hope that such might come to pass.
Oh my Stars, oh my Stars, oh my Stars!
She opened her mouth, but words stilled in her throat. She could feel a hysterical laughter bubbling
upward, her body buzzing and tingling as she almost leapt about in response.
Forcing her words by dint of will alone, she replied “Yes! Oh my Stars – for as long as you will be
my empress and warm my bed, yes!”
What had started as a stifled squealing scream ended in hysterical tears and laughter, but Zelda
understood well enough.
“To thee alone, now and ever I plight myself,” she said, her devotion clear. Arising, she took
Peach's face in her hands and kissed her tenderly. Peach would have none of this, returning the kiss
with a passion that brooked no resistance.
Wedding. Private affair, to keep Peach safe from Warbotdorf, 'til the war is over.
Flowering vines cascade across a mist-laden cathedral of Japanese maple, wisteria, jacaranda, and
bamboo. The ephemeral light filtering down brought a surreal feeling of numinosity.
Peach's hair in a garland of flowers.
1 Mating-scent: Among Hylians, this indicates to all a clear mating, one so strong as to change the biochemistry of the union with a
unique scent. While not entirely unheard of, it's passing rare to affect any of non-Hylian blood. In either case though, while typically
difficult for other species to even detect, its presence is unmistakable to a Hylian.
Nayru herself officiates in a mossy vale that opens to a flooded grotto.

Ceremony involves mouth to mouth exchange of a strong red brandywine 2. Each takes a mouthful,
swallowing half and kissing the remaining portion into the other's mouth. They take up a ringed cord
between them, symbolizing their shared journey, their joys and sorrows, neither bound to the other, but
joined by choice.
=====
They meet Princess Kitana over dinner. She'd been in intermittent contact with Kong, and could only
now return. Very friendly, down to Earth. Giving her a once-over, Sonic asks if she happens to know
anyone by the name of “Pauline Réage.”
Dinner is fruit salad, tilapia, rouladen, coconut sesame rice with ginger chicken, banana cream pie,
and copious servings of piña coladas.
Sonic was telling Peach about the fine ribbons of basil being cut in a chiffonade, and to roll the
leaves carefully before slicing, but her attention had already been drawn away by Zelda's conversation
with Kitana.
She bits her lower lip and stared at the ground, eyes bugging out, blushing furiously.
“She looks fantastic in her loli outfits, especially the goth ones,” Zelda continued, “and just wait 'til
you see what she can do with a cherry stem...”
“Oh, right, yeah – an' I'm an asshole?” Sonic jumped in.
“Still not listening...” she told him in a sing-song voice, raising her middle finger at him.
Tails broke the moment, interjecting with “Yeah! We could all be friends! That'd be great! Hey, wait,
does that mean you guys are going to have sleepovers, and make even more noise every night?”
Sonic just covered his eyes and shook his head.
Peach panicked and drew DK aside to ask if there might be quieter accommodations available.
Over the third course, having been asked about his early years, Kong replied apologetically “Well,
you know how it is sometimes: young, dumb, and full of – ill-guided... decisions...?” his voice trailing
off uncertainly after Zelda caught his eye with a sharp glance. She clarified with a quietly voiced
“Sheltered life,” mouthing the words exaggeratedly and tilting her head surreptitiously toward Peach,
who was mercifully oblivious and focused entirely on her plate.
The conversation shifted focus to more general larceny.
“I stole a cookie once – and we hadn't even had dinner yet!”
Kong stared at Peach for a moment, a half-smile almost forming on his lips at what was surely a
most deadpan humor, turning to Sonic in disbelief as her sincerity made itself clear.
“Yep,” Sonic told him, nodding, “fer reals.”
“Right then. Now that we've all eaten well and had some time to get a feel for one another... you guys
ready for the Big Red Pill?” Kitana asked.
The table lay bare, other than for their wine glasses and a few carafes.
2 Brandywine: A heady drink in itself, consisting of equal parts cherry brandy and muscadine wine in wormwood casks previously
soaked in La Muse Verte (absinthe), wedding brandywine is fortified with a few grains of bridesbane, a strong dose of caffeine, quite a
bit of theobromine, and trace amounts of entheogens (mimosa hostilis root-bark and Syrian rue, jimson weed, solandra, yagé, peyote,
ergot, psilocybe cubensis, and oven-cured amanita muscaria) and entactogens. Melted cannabutter is added to the heated drink before
the ceremony.
Although the happy couple shares a healthy dose while exchanging vows, the guests aren't forgotten in this. A rather less intense
version is served throughout the reception, generally helping lighten and carry everyone's mood (and often leading to many more
couplings and more-somes that evening).
Kong simply leaned back, pensive. The rest exchanged looks and gave her the nod.
“Your world is flat. Beyond it lies an infinite plane of ice with an infinite number of other world-
ponds scattered across its surface, most of which lie beneath protective domes, like a bunch of snow
globes. They're not all flat, but that's irrelevant right now. Some of the world-ponds operate under
different laws of magic, science, and psionics; others are pretty much in line with the majority. The Ice
provides something of a baseline minimum for them all. With me so far?”
They each looked around uncertainly, but seemed to grasp her point and be willing to accept her
words at face value.
Tails spoke up, “That actually makes a little sense – it's consistent with our observations of
Ouroboros, but I had simply put those down to a Fata Morgana.”
Kitana manipulated the surface of her bracer, and a hologram covered the tabletop. A scale model of
Light World, with lesser geographical features sometimes pixelated badly, but generally showing a
surprisingly decent resolution.
The image zoomed outward, the Light World shrinking to the size of a saucer. The icy surface took
on a dull gray color, and other green-brown-blue areas appeared within it, some the size of plates, one
or two as large as platters, a few that are as tiny as the base of a teacup.
Sonic didn't move.
“Nice shots. Full spec MilSat?”
“Gravitational lensing through nano-wormholes. Troll-God3 technology,” Kitana replied.
“Ah. On-the-spot D.O.R.D.s, got it.”
Kitana's brow lifted as she nodded briefly, “Yes, precisely.”
“Yer shittin' me...” Sonic craning his neck as if looking for a hidden camera as Kitana turned to the
display.
“This is your local neighborhood. I'm showing you all of this to give you a sense of the scales
involved. My world, Edenia, is rather far away to the south-southwest.”
“Fuckin' A, man – is anybody around here from around here? How'dja get here, and waddya want?”
Sonic asked bluntly.
Kitana cocked her head at him and nodded.
“Fair enough,” she replied, and gathered her thoughts.
“Approximately two hundred sixty five years ago, my world was still subject to emperor Shao
Kahn, an invading dictator whose modus operandi was to overlap portions of his own world –
Outworld – with portions of other worlds and take them over. At that time, he had merged Outworld
with a world-pond known as Midgard, occupying parts of its central-most region called Earth. This was
his downfall, and Edenia seized its freedom. However, he had left behind an insurance policy that
caused Edenia to become imprisoned within a spatiotemporal anomaly, cutting us off from the greater
cosmos. We're still uncertain of the exact dates involved, but that's the background in essence.
“Recently, the constraints have begun decaying, permitting us more normal relations, but the decay
is predicted to progress to the point of Edenia's eventual destruction. We've opened portals to a number
of world-ponds both near and far in search of possible routes to prevent this, or at worst to evacuate to.
3 Troll-Gods: trapped in Jötunheimr Imperial Forest [>70x globe-Earth's total area] when it collapsed 36 miles downward into the
newly formed Ginnungagap, those few survivors of the genetically diverse and unstable Jötnar, Trolls, Ogres, Ettin, and related species
were forced into Stone Age conditions. The Æsir prosecuted this act to near extinction with acuity-damping fields throughout (their
modal average IQ is perhaps 50-60 [mild left-skew of -0.3, mild excess kurtosis of -0.6]), and radioactive salts and phobia-mines
belting the whole in order to keep the survivors crushed and unable to leave. This was c8500 BCE [c2205 AB, Light World calendar].
They have since crawled up to a mix of Bronze Age through Iron Age technologies, with their more advanced villages and cities
resembling Dark Age villages of the Alpine mountain range. Many still simply occupy cavern galleries and vast tree-hollow warrens.
For a glimpse into a slice of life for the modern Jötunn, see “Meat pies”; for a longer and more in-depth view of Jötunheimr [still
in-work], see “Book 1b, Nyjötnar Saga”.
In short, we need help, and I'm seeking allies. Many, if not most, world-ponds are controlled by
sociopaths and are actively hostile toward others. Yours is one of the very few that we deemed worth
seeking to establish relations with, in the hope that your magics and lost sciences might help. We
understand that your political situation is untenable, and are willing to assist with relevant technologies,
though our available personnel are limited. Get it?”
“Got it,” Sonic said.
“Good,” she replied, breathing a sigh of relief as she finished.
“So why us?” he persisted.
She looked off into the distance and said “Your world's protectors are spirits and gods. They don't
really make themselves available for appointments. That means that we either find someplace else, or
invade, or seek out more-temporal authorities. We're neither inclined nor able to invade, and you
already know that safe worlds are few and far between. That leaves the local governing bodies – or our
eventual deaths, of course.”
Sonic looked around at everyone as Zelda snorted.
“Oh aye, local governing bodies... you do realize that we're in no position to assist even ourselves,
much less anyone else?”
Kitana turned to her.
“Yes. We're well aware of the current power struggle in your world's political structure. The Regent
is powerful but evil, hence not one to seek alliance with. You're in an underdog position, which means
that you have incentive to consider our proposal. You're also the last of the imperial line, which makes
you the legal autarch of most of this world.”
Zelda thought for a moment. “About how many evacuees would we be looking at?”
“One hundred ninety six thousand, five hundred and sixty.”
Tails glanced sharply at her as his eyes widened, “So... not one hundred ninety six thousand, eight
hundred eighty-four4, then?”
“No, why?”
“That's a pretty specific number...” Zelda replied, shifting uneasily as she noted Tails's reaction.
“You'd be surprised by what can qualify as entertaining when absolutely nothing ever changes.”
“Where could we even lodge them? Maybe Hyrule, since we have plenty of space there; no, The
Golden Plains of Rygar, a little less fertile, but a lot more open space, and they could help keep an eye
on things over there – but even then, that's contingent upon our success against Warbotdorf.”
“I know that this is asking a lot,” Kitana said, “and that's why we're throwing in an unlimited uplink
to our encyclopædia. You can have that now, gratis, without further promise or hope that you'll assist
us.”
She set down a crystal on the table.
Sonic watched her as she said this. She meant it, and it meant something huge to her.
He kicked Zelda's foot twice, beneath the table, then twice again.
“You want to know where that Troll-God tech came from? It's the most advanced design that we can
actually grasp, and that barely scratches the surface of what's in the encyclopædia. The rest of it is
beyond us.”
“Yeah, a'ight, but if ya got one of these, then why didn't ya simply leave before?”
“Partly because of the veil that Shao Kahn cast over Edenia, since its local entropic effects converge
to a recursive state and limit our efforts at anything, and partly because of our infrastructure – by way
of analogy, you can focus a little sunlight to build a fire, but that doesn't translate to high technology
overnight, even if you know the basic principles.”
4 196,560 vs. 196,884: head-canon again; I'm guessing that Tails is thinking back to some off-camera conversation with Peach about
octonions and E7 & E8.
They discussed the potential pros and cons. Zelda's thoughts wandered as the others' talk sank
deeper into logistics and sociological probabilities. Her birth family had been dead since before she'd
taken to the road. If she were to return to stake her claim by force, then she would be Imperatrix, and
only through the blood of many. The time table that Kitana set out wasn't up to their current needs, but
this didn't dissuade Zelda's interest in pursuing matters further; it offered options.
“You said infinite.”
Kitana nodded at Peach, “Imagine every story you've ever read or heard or told, all true. Every
world that you can conceive is out there, somewhere. An infinite number of copies of each, in fact.
Some completely identical5, some different in minor detail. Every possible history of each one. Now
imagine every way that they could possibly interact.”
Peach's eyes glazed over momentarily. She glanced at Tails, who cocked a eyebrow back at her
suspiciously.
Peach moved her hand sideways decisively, then moved it through a rapid twirl. Tails twitched his
eyebrow, then shifted through a rapid series of gestures from a fist to a sideways motion with his
fingers clamped like a duckbill, and ending with his forefinger pointing upward.
“So. Beth one6 of them. Minimum,” Peach said, watching Kitana's response.
“You're quick. Yeah, beth one, minimum. Beth two seems... debatable. Or so we think.”
The rest looked around, waiting for someone to explain.
Tails cleared his throat.
“Basically, an infinitely larger number than infinity,” he said, cringing at his own imprecision, then
turning to Kitana, “and speaking of infinity, what prevents the plane collapsing within its
5 Identical: take a set of things; how many ways can you arrange them combinatorially? (It doesn't matter which one you place first,
second, third, etc., only the final result. Whether you're building a Rubik's cube or a planet, the bits go where they go regardless of
which bit you put in last.)
This is somewhat like Poincaré recurrence or quantum tunneling of the whole thing, but spatial rather than temporal. If you look at
the observable universe of ~1026 m radius, there are perhaps 1080 particles within it (ignoring fluctuations). You can combine things in
only so many ways before exhausting all possibilities and necessarily beginning to repeat them. Tegmark estimates that if the physical
universe is spatially infinite, then a duplicate of our Hubble volume must occur within approximately 10^(10 115) meters.
If we look at a much smaller set of particles, enough to form something like a disk or hemisphere 10 8 or 1010 miles in radius, and tile
a plane of ice with these, then a duplicate configuration would still have to occur; the physical data wouldn't look like our universe, but
the underlying math remains applicable.
Let's say that you had a set of things that you could arrange in seven unique patterns. If you laid them out a sheet of paper and drew
a circle around your pattern, you'd have a tiny universe. You could surround that universe with six other unique universes in a
hexagonal layout and not repeat a single one if you wish. Adding any further neighbors to this neighborhood would necessarily mean
repeating at least one of your universes – one degree of separation from the immediately adjacent pair, two degrees from the first
example or its tangential neighbors, or three degrees from the farthest pair, but you certainly wouldn't need to go any farther away.
Adding more neighboring universes would simply add more repetitions of at least one of the original set. You might find clusters of
dozens of the same, but you couldn't find any place with eight unique universes; you could, however, find increasingly large sets of
sets that are unique in the meta-set of clusters that you've examined so far.
This might be more obvious if we consider a circle with two triangles of colored dots in it: {red, yellow, blue} and {red, blue,
yellow}; now make a third triangle with those same colors without repeating either of the first two patterns (my apologies to those who
prefer RGB) – see the problem? You'll necessarily repeat either the 1st or 2nd neighbor.
6 Beth numbers: if you took the set of all of the natural numbers {0, 1, 2, 3, …}, then its measure would be aleph null [ ‫א‬0]. Adding to
this wouldn't make it any bigger, nor would multiplying it, but taking the set of every way that the subsets could be for med {∅, 0, 1, 2,
…, 0∩1, 0∩2, …, 1∩2, 1∩3, …, 0∩1∩2, …} would give you an arguably larger set: the power set 2^‫א‬0. The continuum hypothesis is
compatible with ZFC, but so is the lack of CH, hence 2^‫א‬0 can be taken as ≥‫א‬1; possibly ‫א‬2 (the set of all functions), possibly still
higher. This leads to simply referring to it as beth one [‫ב‬1] for the sake of clarity.
This footnote makes a horrible hash of an explanation, but it would take up far too much space to explain it well (not to mention all
of the mistakes that I'd no doubt make). I'd include links, but there would be too many; just go to StackExchange, Wikipedia, Wolfram
MathWorld, DavidDarlingInfo, Quora, etc., and look into the terms used above (Cantor's diagonal slash might be helpful).
Schwarzschild radius? The critical density tends toward zero.”

Kitana had no answer for him.
Sonic looked around the table, “Got it. Wold Newton, big time. Send lawyers, guns, 'n' money, the
shit has hit the fan. Minchia!”
P: this all fits together with the Sheikah Wars somehow, I'm sure of it.
S: The Sheikah Wars were a couple thousand years ago, right?
Z: Mm-hmm, six and a half thousand years back.
P: “Six thousand five hun – dre-e-ed...” she trailed off, her eyes glazing, twitching rapidly, her jaw
slackening as her head began to tilt a touch.
Racing to the scrolls, she started unrolling them, flipped note sheets, searching for a reference. Then
she was back to the computer screen, tapping rapidly.
R: Nani... sore wa desu ka?
P: Here! Got it! It's this year!
Peach runs back to the scrolls, Ruru dodging her on the fly.
R: Gomen ne – gomen!
Holding out her arms in equal parts apology and nervousness.
Z: Sixty five sixty one? What about it?
P: Look, in these prophecies, they're talking about the coming new year!
Z: You... taught yourself... Ancient Sheikah.
P: Yeah. Sure. It isn't all that hard, once you know the vowels, but luckily it's actually a pretty
featural orthography. It's a language isolate, but modern Sheikah ultimately derives from it, even
though there are some weird gaps and jumps in the literature and corpus, and they don't look anything
alike at first glance; it's almost like a record playing a groove, then jumping backward to the preceding
groove, and so on. After that it's a bit more complicated, since there's a ton of diacritic markers that can
be applied to pretty much any letter – which is important to pronunciation, since pitch slope and stress
slope are critical to interpretation 7 – and even though its lexicon is analytic in nature and huge as a
result, the logic of the vocabulary is strongly agglutinative, even though they don't differentiate
between nouns and verbs and such, and decline and conjugate situationally, yet still use sentence
positioning grammar, with a few more declensions than you'd ever expect, and their conjugations are
just insanely complex, and this is all modified by word-diacritics for nuance, and entire phrases use
different inks for tonality, not to mention that –
Ruru interrupted with “Bored now,” and proceeded to flip though pictures on the computer.
Z: Today, Princess. I love your kuudere-meganekko look with those cute little librarian glasses –
especially with your plaid skirt there – but if it's important, then save the geek-gasm for later and tell us
what you've found before the world comes to an end.
P smiles and blows Z a kiss.
P: You'd better be nice, missy, or you won't get any tonight. However, that's just it; my little 'geek-
gasm', as you put it, is kind of crucial to the whole thing – and that bit about the world coming to an
end? Funny choice of wording there. See, they thought of time as sort of spiraling, and all of their
prophecies are phrased poetically, but that's exactly how they did their math too, so it's actually
straightforward plaintext for them.
Zelda had to stifle a laugh at Peach's threat, given the libido that the girl had displayed thus far.
Peach read aloud the nearly eight millennium old prophecy.
7 Verbal pitch: Ancient Sheikah's finely nuanced tonality carries strong denotation effects.
The Great Feast

In the middle of the seventh millennium of peace,
as the snows of the fifth prime past the zenith increase by one,
and the light of night shows its darkest face full red,
then will a Great Spirit of pure intent choose an end,
else shall see Who Commands tunnels of air
loose The Ravenous to spread as locusts to grain
and ascend even as this world-composite grows still of life.
R: Minna, wakarimasen! <frustrated wail> Not that it matters, since it will probably just be
something gruesome.
S: Great, we're workin' on spec – I hate workin' on spec. O.K., so yeah, that's some heavy soundin'
shit there, but I'm with Ruru on this one. I don't get it either.
P: Right. The seventh millennium of peace is easy, that started in 6000, and the middle of that is
6500. The zenith is their way of saying the center point of that century, so that's 6550. The fifth prime
number is eleven, which brings us to 6561. The snows refers to the winter, and increasing by one is the
old year turning into the new year at the solstice.
We already know that whatever he's doing requires a blood moon, and they're thoroughly
unpredictable.
S: Yeah, 'less he's figured out a way to predict 'em – or induce 'em.8
P: Predict, maybe, but not induce arbitrarily or else he would have done so already – and that's what
they're talking about with the night light. This new year solstice will fall on the second night of a new
moon, when it shows its darkest face.
Z: ...and the rest of it?
P: Long story short? I think that someone has to sacrifice themselves or he wins. That has something
to do with The Ravenous – that's a collective plural by the way, so they're talking about some group of
things, not some single-something, except with a weird timeless tense, not an infinitive, more like
omnitemporal-simultaneous – and I'm pretty sure that they kill everything in the world. Everything.
Nobody said a word. The only sound was the occasional popping ember in the fireplace.
P: And I know that this is just a shot in the dark, but the way that they use “world-composite” is
really funny – that's not a literal translation, it's just the best that I could do with it, since the way that
they said it really comes out closer to “this-particular singular-group-of-worlds that had been many,
will have been made one, and now no longer ever were other, by those who no longer will have been.”
That one was really finely conjugated and declined, and I'm still not one hundred percent on it.
Everyone sat silent, looking inward.
P: Look, I know that it all sounds absurd, but if every possibility is reified in a spatially and
temporally infinite stochastic cosmos, even if with skew, then logically even the most absurd is
probably real somewhere – and probably an infinite number of times over, for that matter. Of course, I
guess that it even means that not only is every story true somewhere, but that everything happening
anywhere is a story someplace else. Even this conversation right now.
<pause a beat for the penny to drop...>
Sonic wore a disturbed look as he pictured an infinite number of roadrunners catching an infinite
number of coyotes. For some reason, the roadrunners all sported goatees.
“Oh?” Zelda looked upward and around “Well, I took a real crowd-pleaser last night; I hope the
voyeurs got a good view. Hey! You up there! You care to help us out? If not, you can go fuck
8 Blood moon: Yes, we can predict blood moons in the real world, but for whatever magical reason they can't do so in Light World.
yourselves.”
Nothing happened.
“...and in an infinite set of other worlds, that actually worked,” Peach observed.
“If all of these places are real, how can we tell the good guys from the bad guys? It's as if there's
neither free will nor destiny, just copy after copy. What makes us morally superior?”
“Oh, that's easy,” Sonic offered, “we ain't got goatees.”
Zelda shook her head to clear the image from her mind, “Thanks... for... clearing that up. Moving
right along then...”
Returning to Peach, she continued her line of reasoning.
“So, does that mean that they're watching us every time we–”
“I'm trying really hard not to think about that!”
Zelda tried to look innocent, and changed the subject.
“So, I could meet someone from one of my anime?”
“Mm-hmm, and to them, you might be a fictional character.”
She paused, then looked over to Tails.
“If every possibility is necessarily a story in an infinite number of other worlds – ignoring the
question of stochastic probability, obviously – and every story is exactly what's happened in an infinite
number of worlds, yet positing that every possibility must exist, then isn't it also a paradox that the
plenum must necessarily also include an infinite number of worlds that aren't stories anyplace else and
an infinite number of stories that aren't real events anyplace at all?”
They both frowned, then started babbling incoherently at each other about Hilbert Space, Zermelo-
Fraenkel continua, and the Axiom of Choice, and immediately lost everyone around them.
Zelda watched all of this for a moment, then glanced around the table.
Licking her lips and placing her thumb and forefinger between them, she produced an ear-piercing
whistle.
“Is this part of the same geek-gasm, or has the pair of you fallen down a rabbit hole?”
They looked up from their unintentionally private conference with a guilty start.
“I see. Back to the topic at hand, perchance?”
Peach nodded and turned to Tails, “Remind me to get back to you about Boltzmann Brains and
Viṣṇu's dreams, O.K.?”
“I know! But listen, the odds against any event versus all of the rest are approximately aleph null to
epsilon against, well not epsilon literally, that's just for effect, and–”
Sonic cleared his throat and raised a hand, his fingers curled to match the look on his face. “That
world-composite thing? Y'know how I didn't say shit about Kitana's claims about other worlds out
there, 'n' this one bein' flat? There's a reason fer that.”
He glanced over to Tails, who had quieted down and now gave him an encouraging smile and
motioned toward Peach.
Zelda poured some wine and slid it to him, then lit a cigar. Fully expecting the follow up questions
and answers, she lit one for Peach as well, who cast a questioning look in return. Zelda simply lifted a
brow and nodded.
Sonic sucked air for a moment and blew out a long breath.
“You see alotta big blue rats or flyin' squirrels around here?” he began, a sour look crossing his face.
Peach blinked, then shook her head no.
It's endearing, how seriously she takes every question, and the way that her breasts jiggle so
innocently every time that she shakes her head... Zelda shook her head rapidly to clear the image from
her mind for the second time in as many minutes. Wrong time; wrong place, she thought, letting out a
subvocal groan, Damn it, why did she have to go on such a geek-spiel just now? I swear she has a
brain the size of a planet! Does she truly not know how hot incredibly it is when she does that? And
still hours before we might retire. Mayhap I could talk her into a brief rendezvous in a broom closet,
therein to hike her skirts and...
“The others know alla this already, but you still need ta hear it. Möbius – the world me 'n' Tails are
from – was once a happy little place, just chock full o' cute li'l duckies an' bunnies...”
Over the next half-hour, Sonic told of how he'd come to this world.
“I was once Warbotdorf's second in command, one of an elite group o' clones designed by
Warbotdorf himself from a genetic soup. Me 'n' Tails ended up turnin' against him, things went
sideways, an' got rough. At first, he'd been all about cybernetics, but then his hunger grew ta new
magnitudes, an' he set his sights on life itself, wit' an eye toward other worlds. He had some sort o'
alien artifact he was tryna make work with the help o' some small orb. The orb was some kinda huge
information center, which is why I kicked Zelda when Kitana offered that encyclopædia – these
things're ancient, an' got some next level shit in 'em.
“Warbotdorf had gotten this object o' his ta respond haphazardly. It was a big ring o' metal wit'
symbols on it. Some kinda giant toroflux he called it a world-gate.
“When me 'n' Tails moved in on Warbotdorf's fortress at the end, he'd hit the switch just when we
almost had 'im. Everything went all screwy. Gravity fell away and I floated forever through nuttin', just
watchin' while Möbius went red 'n' black, sucked into a hole.
“Next thing I know, I explode inta the middle of a castle on a bluff of a deserted island. I didn't
know where I was, but I knew fer damn' sure where I wasn't. Gravity, oxygen content, sunlight, air
pressure 'n' viscosity. Möbius was gone, and this...
“That island sat in the middle of a lake o' giant-crocodile infested lava. Whoever used ta live there
had a sense o' humor, judgin' by the tombstones in the graveyard near the castle. There was a mountain
nearby with a deserted Dodongo cavern system at the base, an' an abandoned Goron city in the main
body.
“I spent the first four weeks there alone before Ruru showed up. Friday, a Deku Scrub, found an'
adopted me a little after that. For the first few months wit' Friday, neither me or Ruru understood a
single word Friday said, but we helped her drink her wine – an' she always had some mighty fine wine .
It was her kindness, her reachin' out that finally broke through my barriers, dragged me out inta
civilized behavior 'n' social interaction. Made me care. Made me give a shit again.
“I lived there fer two years wit' Friday as my wife before Tails popped out through the same spot.
“ 'nother two years later, Zelda drifted inta the cove. There wasn't much left of 'er. On her own,
she'd'a been dead by dawn.
“Over time, piecin' together the history o' Hyrule, I event'chlly figured Warbotdorf landed here too,
just a really, really long time ago.
“Back on Möbius, his name was Robotnik,” Sonic concluded, meeting Peach's eyes for emphasis,
“...but he went by the moniker of The Commander.”
When Sonic finished his story, he looked over at Zelda, then around the table.
He didn't tell me what happened to him, he gave me a clipped, concise report. Not stripped of
personal details, but worse: the details were all there without any emotion. Until now, he's never once
even mentioned Friday. Nobody has...
Peach was looking at him, pain in her eyes, “Sonic, Tails – my Stars, I'm so sorry. I had no idea.”
For the briefest moment, Sonic's eyes tensed with loss as Tails sighed quietly.
“Fuhgeddaboudit. Shit happens, ya deal with it. 's just a matter o' time.”
Tails reached over to her with a reassuring smile and patted her hand.
“So it really is all connected...” Peach said. “Time! That's it! I keep getting this feeling that someone
messed with time. Someone in the future, I mean, and that what the future was, it isn't any longer. That
actually makes sense now, if you look at it from the perspective of the world-composite thing – and
maybe we once were a bunch of separate worlds that got merged into a single whole, like Shao Kahn
did to take over places, except that something went wrong, and that's why they meddled with time, and
when they did that... I don't know. Maybe that changed not only what was going to be, but what had
been before as well, sort of like a cosmic handshake through time, and that's why we don't remember
them ever having been separate? It would explain a lot about how there are so many different species
and levels of advancement and different approaches to the same thing all over the world at the same
time, and even the Sheikah language anomalies.
“...umm... Sonic, if Friday's a Deku Scrub, and she's your wife, then how do you... umm...”
“Fuck an androgynous wood-skinned hermaphroditic plant-person with no animal genitalia, who
reproduces via seed pollination, root propagation, and cuttings – izzat the ticket'cher lookin' for?” Sonic
grinned ironically at Peach's loss for words.
She nodded.
“We're mostly physically compatible, though ya gotta be a bit adaptable. We manage. Sex, from
either of our perspectives, just takes a little... creativity – 'sides, y'ever see the schnoz on 'em? Shit;
suck start a Harley. So anyway, yeah, I got dangly bits, 'n' she's got a flower fer hair; it kinda takes
some figurin', but'cha get there even'chly. Plus... she's one of a set of bud-triplets. I didn't meet her
sisters for a while, since they were in, like, some sort o' hibernation or some'n, I dunno – it was all rose
quartz bells 'n' amethyst rods 'n' cryotube-lookin' bismuth 'n' shit, an' the whole place was done up in
obsidian an' hematite – I also didn't know it at the time, but it turns out that marryin' one of 'em is a
marriage ta all three. Turns out that this wasn't a bad thing at all, either. They're individuals, but share
some o' their thoughts 'n' senses. It gets umm... real interestin' in bed...” Sonic grinned through the side
of his mouth as he said this last, “I think you'll like 'em when ya get ta meet 'em. An' fer the record,
they're both male an' female, florally, but since they sorta look female, an' definitely act all feminine an'
shit, an' I got no better pronouns to work with, I just call 'em female. I keep thinkin' o' they/them/their,
but that'd just get confusin' since there're three of 'em. 'sides, they don't really distinguish sexes at all,
an' kinda look at you 'n' me as 'a little odd that way' – their words, not mine.”
“Wait... so when they... when she... I mean, if you're not there and... would that make it...”
He just watched her stumble through the visuals, her flustered philosophical musings.
She also wanted to ask if he'd lost someone special to him, anyone whom he'd loved, but sensed that
this wasn't the right time or place.
“And Tails? Or your grandfather?” she asked, seeking to change the subject to something less
embarrassing without prying into what might be too personal, “You said that you guys are genetic
clones, but I don't see how that works.”
It was Sonic's turn to nod, “Simply put? Ehh, phyllo... philodendron... philanthropy – dammit, I
know this word – phylotype?”
“Phenotype,” Tails prompted.
“That's the ticket – thanks. Phenotype expressions o' different codin's that say the same basic shit.
Broadly, life is a lot more genetically compatible than ya think. Alla this is Tails's field o' expertise, not
mine – I got no clue what the fuck I just said, but I read all our files an' they pretty much boil down ta
one thing: life finds a way. Yer half-Toad, right? So, ya know about transgenics 'n' shit? Parallel
transport some'n-or-other?”
“Horizontal gene transfer – or lateral,” Tails supplied.
“What he said,” tilting his head toward Tails, “See, it ain't all Darwinian, or even Lamarckian; it's
kinda a bit o' both, but mostly just misunderstood. Ya' can say what'cha want about Warbotdorf, he's
fuckin' batshit – but he ain't stupid. He even managed ta develop killer tomatoes; files said he got the
idea from some movie. That 'n' some'n about giant pea pods, an' megalodons with metallorganic
freakin' laser beams as part o' their heads; he was workin' his way up from cyborgs ta fully integrated
polybasic life, an' he'd already gotten that down fer nanobotic uses, and then... things got all pear-
shaped wit' them, so maybe what happened was fer the best. Whatever. In the end, there's some really
crazy shit out there, an' some'n's always comin' ta life. Lookit panspermia an' tell me ya can't get a
zillion diff'rent ways fer chemicals ta come ta life.”
Peach looked forlorn again for a moment, then brightened up.
“Hey! This sort of won't help exactly, but you know, there are probably an infinite number of worlds
where Möbius is still doing fine and everything!”
Sonic smiled a little, then glanced to Zelda.
“And how did you come to drift into that cove?” she asked, another thread in her mind suddenly
coming to the fore as she turned to Zelda.
“I saw that part coming, anyway,” she said, lighting another cigar, “ye might wish another burn, as
well, Princess.”
Nervous now, even with the mental haze of the first cigar, Peach nodded and accepted a second one,
waiting to see what Zelda had to say.
“As Sonic said, the others know all of this already, and it's really not the time to get into my history,
but it does play a part in things – it's all connected, as you keep thinking.”
Pérdida Marie Marguerite Violetta. An elf9.

Zelda had met her long ago. They were young, though Pérdida had two years on her. A heart-
throbbing beauty, her raven tresses streaked with a scarlet hue; she could've been a pinup girl – Link,
Zelda's best friend growing up, used to call Pérdida “missile tits”. Pérdida told her everything about
her childhood, how she'd been abused and neglected, raped, and in a carriage crash that had nearly
broken her spine. Zelda felt horrible for her. Her attentions were flattering, and to be her focus was to
be the center of the universe; it had been as if Zelda were swimming through a bed of rose petals. She
was charming and beguiling, and it wasn't long before they were an item.
At first, she could do no wrong in Pérdida's eyes, and everything about her fascinated Pérdida; the
sex was absolutely incredible, and damned near non-stop – not to mention exciting promises of things
to come; Pérdida told her how much she loved butt-stuff, and wanted to have threesomes... even though
none of this ever manifested.
Not long after that, maybe a month or two, things began to deteriorate. The sex seemed to come to a
grinding halt, and Pérdida began to complain of Zelda's constant neediness, her hands being
“meathooks,” now deigning to fuck her only once every nine days on average and eventually once
every three months, and then only because of how bitchy she said Zelda got, and screaming at her if
Zelda gave her a hicky; on the other hand, she questioned Zelda's love for her whenever Zelda didn't
“nag her for sex,” saying that Zelda didn't even want to love her and was just grateful for Pérdida being
there, yet jumping away and exclaiming “Don't touch me!” whenever Zelda drew near, and disgusted if
Zelda tried to put her tongue into her ear. Pérdida started to tell her that she'd get what she gave her
and be happy for it, that she was lucky that Pérdida even tolerated her, that she'd do what the fuck
Pérdida told her to do the way she was told to do it, that Zelda could do whatever she wanted to do but
had better remember that every decision comes with consequences, threatening her with “You, the
books, the cats, everything – out the fucking window!” and saying that she'd burn the place down.
The first time that Pérdida cheated, an ex had been in town and she'd asked Zelda if they could have
9 Pérdida: see Afterword for an analysis of Pérdida's likely genetic background.

some time to visit. She'd told Zelda what had happened, feeling so terribly ashamed about wanting to
see if “it” were still there, and Zelda forgave her but still felt awful and angry and hurt, confused by
thinking that she herself must somehow have been to blame. She'd tried sorting out her feelings on
paper, how she was hurting and angry with Pérdida, so felt a need to cheat right back, but didn't want to
hurt her, which pissed her off because she was the one in pain not the one who'd cheated, which left her
right back at square one and hurting. Pérdida discovered it, and this only served to magnify everything
tenfold, with Zelda having “a cheating problem.” She looked at other women constantly, commenting
on their looks, sometimes deriding them for sluttiness, but berated Zelda for doing the same even when
she had no idea that there was someone there to look at. Zelda couldn't call her out on any of this,
since Pérdida would simply respond by getting pissed off and declaring that “Only a thief thinks
everyone's a thief!” or that “There are two sides to every story, and the truth is always somewhere in
the middle!”
They stayed together, but nothing that Zelda did or said was ever right, ever good enough for
Pérdida. Zelda's cooking was never any good anymore, and eventually she stopped cooking altogether;
even adding salt or butter to her own food brought down criticism for ruining perfectly good food and
insulting Pérdida's cooking. She'd collected a basketful of flowers in a 'gator-infested swamp once,
woven them through the door and formed a path through the house to the petal-covered bed, only to be
told “Great. Thanks. You've covered my bed with dead flowers and live bugs!” Even watching scrynet
shows together was difficult, since her emotional involvement with the characters would often provoke
a response from Pérdida of “Ugh, you're such a fucking girl! You cry at everything!”
After a year of this, it had gone completely to hell. Birthday promises left unkept, forgotten, even
denied ever having been made in any seriousness, saying that she'd just been joking about them.
Accusations of cheating when going out to eat alone on her own birthday. Being left alone for Samhain
while Pérdida went on a date and watched a scrynet show that Zelda loved and had wanted to introduce
her to for the longest time, but that Pérdida had always said was stupid; that ended up happening with a
few other shows, and a game. Being too drunk to get home safely, hence staying the night at some
stranger's place, and all the next day. Wild claims of nearly being horse-jacked an hour after the
bookstore had already closed, that turned to attempted rape – with no mention for nearly an hour in the
retelling of a crossbow having been involved – and then reporting it to the Night Watch, who had talked
with the guy for a few minutes and let him walk away. Then a never-before-mentioned ex-girlfriend
who had mysteriously disappeared after malcontent forces had blown up a building, and now, years
later and in hiding out of paranoid obsession, inexplicably chose to contact her via magic-message.
Pérdida insisted that Zelda was lazy, filthy, disgusting, controlling, stupid, crazy, paranoid, a font of
useless information; that she procrastinated, smelled, interrupted, rewrote history, didn't remember
things correctly, acted creepy, and made Pérdida miserable by choice; Pérdida went into rages, threw
tantrums when things didn't go her way, stormed and screamed when contradicted or her own
contradictions were questioned, disappeared all night and shrugged it off as being perfectly normal and
acceptable, replied late to magic-messages and with only one- or two-word off-topic replies, freaked
out over the words “suspect” and “analogy.” Zelda felt as if she were always walking on eggshells, her
gut tied into knots, her nerves screaming at her, she was afraid of making any mistake, of saying
anything wrong, even of saying anything right for fear that it would trigger a tirade, or anything at all
since then it would be construed as a hint. Revealing interest or disinclination was the worst, since it
gave Pérdida insight from which to attack and undermine. She was constantly exhausted, without
having done anything to be tired from; she slept, but it was never enough. She couldn't think, couldn't
focus, especially when she tried to figure out what was wrong – it all just slid sideways then, her mind
growing thick and woolly, lethargy sweeping over her.
To make matters worse, Pérdida needed medical treatment so often that Zelda actually began to
wonder if it weren't a ruse. It was for a number of different complaints, usually horribly painful, and
she never wanted to go to the same doctor, always having one reasonable-seeming story or another.
And then there were the suicide threats. And screaming at her about drinking “five rupee coffee after
five rupee coffee,” even though she only ever got one – and a second one for free, if it were happy hour
– at Moonbucks whenever Pérdida had a “special friend” over to visit.
She didn't know what was wrong with her, but it had to be her. It made no sense, otherwise. None
of it made any sense at all. She must be crazy, because people simply didn't behave this way – not
outside of daytime scrynet soap operas – so surely she must be imagining it, just as Pérdida calmly
insisted that she was. Everybody loved Pérdida, who seemed to be rational most of the time, and
nobody would ever pull something like this intentionally. Nobody else saw anything wrong with
Pérdida's behavior – though to be fair, it seemed that most of it happened when nobody else was
around... and it wasn't as if Pérdida were always like that, there were still times when she was really
sweet, so obviously Pérdida wasn't some raving lunatic.
Eventually though, it became clear that she was lying, cheating, manipulating Zelda, accusing her of
things that she wasn't doing but that Pérdida herself was doing, driving her to think herself crazy and
doubt her own judgment and self-worth, she couldn't even remember what she liked to eat, her
suggestions were met with shock and scorn only to become Pérdida's own brilliant ideas at some later
point. She'd taken to writing down everything, only to have Pérdida deny even that, claiming that
Zelda “could have written down anything” that she'd wanted to.
Pérdida claimed that Zelda's friends were pieces of shit who just wanted to break them up – until
one friend or another came in handy for something that she needed, at which point they were the best of
friends, and then pieces of shit again as soon as Pérdida had gotten what she'd wanted. Of course, help
had to come the way that she needed it, but any help that she gave was only to the extent that she chose.
Other times, Pérdida would simply regale her with stories about her friends and the fun that they had,
then rebuke her for not having a life of her own and forcing Pérdida to be her social calendar.
If Pérdida had ever lived in Wharftown, much less the bad part of it as she boasted of, and behaved
the way that she did with Zelda, they'd have killed her. So did that mean that she had changed since
then, or that she was simply lying about that too, or had she instead somehow managed to wrap them
around her finger?
All of this was killing Zelda inside, slowly, her heart bleeding; Pérdida's stories were full of holes,
but trying to get answers led only to Pérdida backpedaling and sniping with vacuous sophistries, or
occasionally Pérdida saying that it was all in the past and asking why Zelda kept bringing it up, and
calling Zelda her abuser.
Her heart broke when finally she discovered evidence of Pérdida's infidelities, the perfidy and
subsequent mockery and derision of her own attempts to placate her; in one case, she and one of the
girls with whom she was cheating were laughing together about Zelda having believed Pérdida's claims
about an on-scry profile having been made by someone else to frame her and how she'd guessed that
password and had the profile removed.
There were magic-messages in which Pérdida claimed that Zelda was sleeping after having beaten
her, or that they'd just finished having a threesome, or complaining about Zelda taking the carriage and
leaving her stuck at home – per Pérdida's own instruction – after her gall bladder operation, or how
Pérdida had been in a body cast for the past few months after a carriage crash that had never happened
in reality, or how she and Zelda were moving to the Mushroom Kingdom soon and she could finally be
with the guy at the other end of the message. There were multiple on-scry profiles looking for dates
and sex. Confronting Pérdida about them, she raged that Zelda was pure fucking evil, not even a real
person.
Zelda's soul was torn away in pieces, shredded; she was in Hell. Pérdida returned only a sneer,
saying that Zelda was just pissed off because Pérdida wouldn't fuck her anymore, and so had lost her
favorite toy.
After years of this, Pérdida moved into a friend's place to work on their relationship, saying that it
would be for “...only a week or two, a month at the most,” as she took Zelda to pick up some sheets for
herself, pointing out that they were the same ones as Zelda had. Somehow, that failed to make Zelda
feel any better. Toward the end, Pérdida told her that after Zelda had been in the carriage crash a year
and a half earlier, and taken six months to learn how to walk again, it was while Zelda was in the
hospital that Pérdida had realized that she could leave.
In the end, after six years together, Pérdida had betrayed her in order to position herself with
Warbotdorf, who had yet to rise to power. The discard. At that point, she had accused Zelda of having
beaten and raped her, throwing her into disgrace before her family's eyes. They died still thinking this
true.
To save herself, Zelda had run, taking nothing with her. Lousy planning, but the moments that she
had thus gained turned out to be the balance of life or death.
Finally her mind broke. Her bucket was full. Late one evening, wandering a vast and empty beach,
she collapsed into convulsions without provocation; uncontrollable, unconstrained tears. Unable to
move for half an hour. Unable to do anything but cry, curled up into a fetal position.
When she could move again, she couldn't think anymore, just stare listlessly at whatever was in
front of her as she wandered. She was dead inside.
The last thing that Pérdida had said to her kept running through her head: “It is what it is...,”
dismissing her own actions as if they were all merely something that had simply happened, like a
vagrant breeze, or randomly waking up from a nap.
On the run for months, she stayed barely ahead of pursuit. She was exhausted, confused, underfed,
suffering from exposure and innumerable minor wounds from Goddesses-knew-what, various
infections taking their toll. When she'd come to the lava village of Brigadùn 10, she'd sought only safe
harbor for the night. She had crept into a decrepit ship at the end of their marina and hidden in its hold.
That night, her pursuers razed the village. Blood and flames, screams, laughter. People flayed alive
and impaled. Rape and murder, in whatever order. Children hauled away.
Her ship was cast adrift.
When she awoke the next morning, she had no supplies, no knowledge of the ship's workings. It
had drifted for a week before she'd caught sight of the island. By then she was out of what little water
had been aboard in puddles, and hadn't eaten for almost two weeks.
Lashing herself to the tiller, she'd sat at it and passed out, drifting in and out of consciousness for
several days more as her ship drifted ever closer to the cove.
Sonic had dragged her off of the ship and back to the ruined castle, where Tails and the Fridays had
then taken care of her for weeks. She'd wandered the wilderness for forty weeks.
The Fridays brought her herbs, berries, leaves, vines, cacti, and mushrooms that soothed her nerves,
dulled her fears, helped with her nightmares and night terrors. Some of their concoctions brought deep
insightful visions, the smokes carrying her far away, the pastes and foods healing her heart to the extent
that they could, letting her mind sort itself out. The spirits that the Fridays called forth offered the
sagest of counsel, probing with questions without prying. Eventually she found the one combination in
particular that worked best – what she now smoked in her cigars. It lightened her mood, made her
sociable, returned some of her appetite, let her sleep without needing to be exhausted in order to avoid
nightmares. As an irrelevant bonus, it even smelled nice.
10 Brigadùn: The village mined nodules from the lava lake; aluminum, iron, magnesium, titanium, as well as some nickel, zinc, copper,
and gold. There wasn't much of it to be had, but the land was fertile enough to support their crops, and so the metals were used in trade
for other goods.
Tails spent most of his time asking her questions about the world, drawing her out as he learned
from her, tinkering and experimenting with the ship and various chemicals that he extracted over time.
He took some notes at times, but modeled most of it in his head.
Sonic had planted crops and hunted lava-suchuses, a few species of bulette, sand squid, giant ants,
hypnotoads, and velociraptors for her to eat, and to make the area safer for her; he'd mounted the
remains around the castle to ward the predators away, drawn her out so that she no longer hunched into
herself, and spoke above a hoarse whisper again, had preferences and opinions even, could finish a
sentence and follow someone else's sentence all the way through; had taught her to fight.
Two years later, Tails had finally fixed what was wrong with the ship, and she was finally warm
again. The continuous feeling of cold and tremors had left her. She was ready to kill Warbotdorf.
Easier said than done, but that's another story. During her exile, he'd become regent, and Pérdida his
faithful sorceress... then Pérdida disappeared. Nobody knew anything about her since then, though
doubtless Warbotdorf was at the bottom of it.
“...and with his recent coronation as Imperator, vouchsafed by the senate, that makes him the entire
empire's new Commander – literally.”
The same song as ever played in her mind, as she thought back to all of this.
Your sweet nature darling

was too hard to swallow,
I got the solution,
I'm leaving tomorrow,
and now as I stand
and stare into your eyes
I see safety there –
I want surprises...
As she wrapped up her portion of the story, her awareness came back to the room. She'd lost track of it,
almost in a trance, somewhere far away and safe as her mouth did the talking for her. Someone else's
voice, someone else's story, the events merely reeling themselves off in her mind's eye like some
shadow play from a magic lantern as she narrated, the words and pictures synched but all coming of
their own accord. Her mind was still befogged as thoughts of her thoughts slid away sideways into the
darkness. That voice had taken on a distant monotone drone, a higher pitch, soothing,
compartmentalized, depersonalized.
At some point, my eyebrows crept up and stayed there; my nostrils flared too, it seems. My face and
limbs are stiff, shallow breathing in short sharp gulps, heart's pounding, eyes dry, throat hurts, and I
feel a little queasy. She massaged and twisted everything back into place, trying to feel comfortable in
her own body again. My whole head is killing me, massive knots at the base of my skull. It feels so
heavy, and I can't remember any of what I just said, but at least I can think again. Though drained and
exhausted as if having just finished a marathon, I don't feel the overwhelming need to fall asleep
pulling me down anymore. I'm pretty certain that I told a much longer, more wholly detailed version of
it all than I've ever done in one sitting. Far more so than I'd intended. Goddesses, what did I say? It
doesn't matter. Everybody else already knows it all, and Peach deserves to know too. Has a right to
know. Scheiße, I need to sleep...
Then she caught sight of Peach. The look that Peach held shocked her; Zelda reached forward,
hoping to reassure her.
“Hey – honey, I'm O.K.. I promise. It was all a decade and more ago. I'm over it now. Mostly. It's no
big deal,” Zelda's voice was suddenly half of an octave higher than usual, a tone almost pushing at
Peach as if she were seeking to calm a small child.
Peach had finished her second cigar and was just staring at her, tears having dried long before, her
eyes now red with pain.
“I'll be alright, I just need to work out some kinks,” Zelda glanced around hurriedly, “I think you
might need some more wine and another cigar,” care and concern washing over her face as she refilled
Peach's glass and lit a third cigar for her, dragging hard on it to ensure a smooth and rich burn, then
pushing both toward Peach, “mayhap this'll help a bit. Take them, O.K. sweetie? Please?”
Peach couldn't believe what she was seeing.
After everything that she just related, after reliving that hell, putting herself back there again just to
answer a simple question, Zelda has no thought of herself in mind, only worry for me? Trying to take
care of me and make sure that I'm alright...
Peach's tears welled up once more, but still she said nothing, her throat tight and heart aching,
instead simply climbing onto Zelda's lap with a leg to either side, drawing her into a hug, and holding
her quietly for a long time.
O ~~~ O
Chapter 8: Semper crescis, aut decrescis

S: A'ight, so you guys got these dungeon keeps set up all along yer northeastern border ta keep out the
big bad monsters. Got it.
Ya got at least three of 'em that boost shit ta keep things goin'. Got it.
Somewhere past the end of 'em is another spot that probably got trashed, but that don't matter 'cause
o' Schöndunkelundtief Forest bein' all around it. Got it.
There's a bunch of 'em an' they all channel special magical energy inta some kinda invisible fence,
forbiddin' them from crossin' the planet. Got it.
T: it's kind of a magic-zooic energy hybrid. They're called ley lines.
S: Got it. Fine. Here's my question though: why the fuck do they gotta have deep, dark, dungeons
crammed with alla this power?
Z: We've been over this three times, clodpate. The dungeons are heat sinks of a sort, and the whole
acts as a sieve. The monsters are attracted to it, but once past a critical point, they can progress only
north or east, rather than return south or west, and furthermore are actively repulsed by the field.
S: See now, that's the stickin' point there. Hayya get 'em ta go through like?
P suddenly realizes that Sonic's off-world origins are why he's full of weird phrases
S: give the girl a cigar when she's old enough to smoke!
P blushes and grins, looking elsewhere rapidly
S: Oh... really? Do tell.
P: They feel good, and get me all... umm... y'know...
S: Frisky? Well, good fer you wit' the whole Korrasami thing. Glad ta hear you guys're doin' a'ight
in that department there. Nice work getting' the spy ta love ya, Agent 86.
<P blushes furiously, but holds steady with a self-satisfied smile>
P So, you're a real live alien then, just like Kitana!
S Yeah... I'm a Way-Out. Eep opp ork, ah-ah – ya wanna go anal probe some cattle an' other farm
animals wit' me, Scully?
Z: Don't. Just don't.
S: What? Don't say 'Brown chicken, brown cow'?
Z: Aye. <sighs> That.
S: so lemme ask ya this, P. Alla this stuff about probability an' morpho-whatsis fields 'n' zeitgeists
'n' stuff. 'zat explain why alla these songs 'n' themes 'n' stuff keep comin' up all over the place?
P: Maybe, but I've no idea what you're asking exactly – except that you've definitely paid more
attention than you admit. Morphogenic, by the way.
S: Yeah-yeah, sure-sure. Mind o' Morbius; got it. What I'm talkin' about is how back home – back
on Möbius I mean – I kinda uploaded a bunch o' shit inta my memory, and actually watched some o' the
really good stuff. Since comin' here, I ain't seen any of it around nowheres, 'cept it keeps comin' up –
diff'rent singers, same songs; diff'rent actors, same plays or shows or whatever. I mean, you guys got a
lot that I never seen before, but there's a bunch o' shit that I a'ready know an' it shows up here like a
brand new idea, or sometimes it's an old one that I run across by accident. An' believe me, I got shit
from a lot o' diff'rent worlds.
P thought about this.
P: I need to talk with Tails about all of this, both to be sure that I really understand the answer
before steering you poorly and simply because you now have me really curious, but basically... yes.
S: cool. So wuzzit mean?
P: that's part of what I need to talk with him about, but I think that it's two things mostly. One is
simply probability, since it's kind of bound to happen someplace eventually. The other is the
morphogenic fields that you mentioned; they might not be everywhere, but wherever they are, they'll
have some weird vibrational effects on everything's consciousness. Oh, and maybe a third cause:
simple cross-insemination; if there's any travel between worlds, then there's almost certainly going to
be leakage.
Sonic's eyes slid sideways to Zelda.
S: “Did she just use 'insemination' and 'leakage' in the same breath, an' mean it seriously? She's
gotta be fuckin' wit' me, right?”
=====
“Surrender Dorothy...?”
“Yeah, yeah,” grumbled Zelda, riding hellbent for leather, “into every generation – one girl in all the
world, yadda, yadda, yadda... Why me?”
Koopa Kingdom. Permanent nightfall. Koopa's castle an earthberg floating just below the cloud deck.
Daimaō Koopa1: You don't call, you don't write...
Z: If you harm her, then I shall rain down on you such Hells that all of the Armageddons in creation
will appear as mere practice with you solely in mind.
K: Droll and overwrought. Your little plaything is fine. We talked, and I found her quite enchanting
really. You've chosen well, and I commend you on your taste, for once. Now you and I need to talk.
1 Daimaō: “King” Koopa is in fact a fairly powerful maō [demon], and has reigned over the kingdom as daimyō since the Sheikah
wars, hence the portmanteau. While sustained by infernal energies, he also dabbles deeply in the necromantic arts, garnering power
and information alike, though he's quite content to maintain his borders without any interest in expansion. All those within his realm
contribute to his life force ever so slightly, with a staggering cumulative effect. None of this is a secret.
There are matters about which you know nothing and I've little time to educate you.
<Boosette appears at his arm and wriggles against him, then manifests a drink, hands it to him,
offers same to Z; Z stares at her flatly, not having felt a thing when the drink appeared. What the hell
magic had she used? K lifts eyebrow bored, exasperated tone proclaims it safe>
Z eyeballs Boosette's Hello Kitty backpack in surprise.

K remarks that he never knows what she'll drag in next, she's worse than a cat; come to think of it,
she has one of those, too – Ghost Kitty. Which reminds me: he has a rather irksome habit of popping up
out of drains and such, so I advise that you exercise some caution in the toilet. In any event, she has her
uses; we have an understanding, and it's a comfortable relationship.
Z curls lip in repugnance at his apparent base use of Boosette.
K asks how old she is this time. 20? 30?
Z 29
K Tells her to get her head out of her pants.
P shows up, looking for Boo', runs to embrace Z.
K favorite dish key ingredient extinct 1000 years ago

.
K <looking directly at Z> Couldn't say this sooner, and can't say it more clearly lest it become a self-
canceling prophecy. Save the cheerleader, <glances over toward P> save the world.
S: Rescue the damsel in distress, kill the bad guy, save the world. Got it.
=====
The dungeon of Diablo holds the key to Warbotdorf's downfall deep within.
S: Least he didn't say Greyspine Mines...
=====
P: Mudhollow Inne... not animal-themed?

S: Yeah, probably got some special dispensation from a grandfather clause or some'n
Orc clans' diaspora; “reindeer” and yurts and belongings, and the occasional land-drakar 2: panic, not
war. Major trail intersection has orc skeletal remains pointing north with a word carved into the
boulder in Uruk-lambo: gúrzum, death. The Orc's remains are covered in a mossy growth, with a
couple of vines trailing from the feet.
Wolfen tribes to east rumored to be heading south as well.
Scablands give way to badlands, their northeasterly course now turning almost due east. The scent of
granite became pervasive, even though all was sandstone for as far as the eye could see.
Still arguing over who broke the whack-a-mole machine at the last town, alternating between
blaming one another and taking credit for it, the party pressed on into increasingly desolate lands.
That ended with the rocks.
Peach peered at the ground as they passed by.
“Why is there writing on this stone?”
Zelda looked to see what Peach had asked about.
“ 'Lasciate ogne speranza, voi ch'entrate.'?”
Sonic noticed the same, “Got another over here, same shit on it.”
“I see one too!” Tails added.
As they looked up and around, they realized that the area was covered in a band of stones, large and
2 Orcs: fully nomadic, they raid villages of any species for slaves, goods, and beasts of labor. Their yurts are battle hardened, so a raid
involves the whole clan unless they've settled into a spot for a little bit and the raid is one of opportunity by a small party on a hamlet
or a thorp. There is no social division of labor between sexes, only the obvious bearing of children; otherwise, individuals gravitate
toward one pursuit or another in accordance with their own taste, skills, and current social needs and opportunities. Similarly, there's
no lineage differentiation: if you're capable of doing the job and possess the necessary skills, then it doesn't matter if you're the chief's
kid or a freed slave (they're aware of the slave species not being Orcs, they just don't give a damn); likewise, if you're useless, then...
you're useless.
Typically some 10% of a clan is non-Orc slaves for general labor, sex toys (of any slave sex, for either Orc sex), and specific work
(this varies according to attributes, and Orcs are extremely equal opportunity in this, taking even the odd Goblin or Ogre slave). They
target late 'teens (or the developmental equivalent) of any species or sex because they're generally old enough to be useful, but
generally too young to provide much irritating resistance. After some time (typically 5 years, but sometimes as little as 2, and rarely as
much as 10), the slaves may stay or leave, often enough having changed owners casually several times; many choose to stay as full and
independent members of the Orc clan by then, having become habituated to their circumstances. Escaped slaves are hunted for no
more than three sunrises; the hunt is often pursued for no more than a single day or night. Those who fail an escape attempt are no
worse off for it, beyond some light ridicule by their current owner and those who hunted for them and a probable gang-bang.
Orcs have strong genes and are compatible with most sophont species, the offspring being free to stay in the clan or leave. Either
option offers some value, but each carries its own price and challenges. Slaves are traded within the clan causally, but treated fairly
well; their purpose is purely practical rather than economical. They may be pressed into any service by anyone in the clan (including
by another slave), if not already busy or about to be (though generally not while attending their own needs [food, sleep, etc.]), but
won't be expected to be proficient without proficiency (and most of the clan will be at least passingly familiar with any given slave's
skills). They are also traded, though more judiciously, beyond the clan – again, for simple reasons of practicality (Orcs don't hold back
on a good deal, and will gladly trade when the opportunity presents).
Their cuisine is extremely simple, but just as extremely varied. Anything that they can eat is always appreciated, but won't be finely
seasoned, or balanced nutritionally. Stew is simply hot water with a bunch of ingredients (probably chopped to bite sized chunks, but
that's about it); roast is any food stuck over fire; cured goods (cheese, butter, smoked meat) are culturally present, but generally made
only when settled for longer stays.
Their beasts of labor – roho /ʁøχō/ – are a puzzle, bearing a similar genetic robustness. They're a valuable mix of alpaca, reindeer,
yak, and whatever else happens along. Their dairy products are high-calorie and voluminous, their wool greatly prized even beyond
the Orc clans, their meat rich and flavorful (between goat and pig), their bones and hides provide unique properties for tools and
weaponry/armor, and they themselves are capable of great speed and effort in both transportation and battle. Roho are true omnivores.
Orc clans are often accompanied by a smaller clan or two of Dovahn Bears that form a loose association with them. Dovahni are
barely sophant (WIS?), but enough so to be capable of working with others. They are generally reclusive beyond a simple alliance
with their Orc clan, sticking to their own clans and living very simply, but quite sapient (INT) enough to work with the simple tools
and weapons/armor that the Orcs give them. Very rarely, one will join the world at large as a barbarian and/or a ranger.
small, and all with the same words in different languages and scripts covering their western faces. The
band stretched far to the north and south.
“Nonsensical ravin's of a lunatic mind...” Sonic shook his head.
Peach surveyed it all before they rode on, concluding “Only two stranger things spring to mind; the
spontaneous combustion of the Mayor of Marsaw in 5146, and that incident in 21st century Gurbundy
when it rained herring.”
Dinner: simple roasted lake salmon and duck with prickly pear; dates and toasted mesquite pod seeds
for dessert. Sonic gripes about lack of lemon and butter, Peach thinks about a red wine and soy glaze
with oranges and brown sugar. Sonic calls her a half-crazed Visigoth for the heresy of a red wine with
fish... before muttering that it sounded like a good mix.
Sonic soon held up a fist and they all fell silent.

Looking ahead to the focus of his concern, they could just make out a figure lying in their course.
“It looks like a Human, maybe ten years old or so, wearing an orange parka outfit...” Tails said as he
collapsed his telescope.
He and Sonic began talking in jargon about thermite and jet fuel.
“Is he alright?” Peach asked.
Tails just stood there for a moment, unwilling to answer.
“He's dead.”
“How did he even get here? What happened to him? Shouldn't we bury him?”
Tails turned away, looking at the distant body, chewing his lips as he glanced at Sonic and back to
Peach.
“That might not be a good idea, Peach,” he said, “You asked what he died from? Well, I can't
diagnose much of anything at this distance, but from what I can see from here, he died of pretty much
everything at once, except maybe surprise or pleasure. He has what I can describe only as a resigned
look on his face. He's been stabbed, mauled, and shot. One leg is crushed and gangrenous, the other
missing and what's left of it looks exsanguinated. Petechiae are consistent with strangulation, and he
seems to have been poisoned, based on the green vomit. His cyanotic skin and mouth full of water
make me wonder if he wasn't also drowned, and given the tinge, he might have been jaundiced as well.
There's blood coming from his eyes and nostrils, consistent with Ebola; his face shows bubos, as if
plagued; there are some lesions that could be anthrax and his skin texture looks leprous; his skin
surface is dotted with what might be smallpox, though I can't be certain.”
Everyone was in shock at his words, aside from Sonic and himself.
Peach finally found herself and voiced what they were all thinking, “Who could have done such a
thing though? It's unimaginable!”
Sonic looked around.
“Warbotdorf comes to mind... that byastid!”
=====
P: “I've read about these things. They're called Pac-ghosts. You don't actually have to outrun them, so
much as out-think them.”
S: “So much fer fuckin' Intel, fuckin' FUBAR shit-show. Facts onna ground trump it every time.
Fuck it. We improvise, same as ever.”
P: “Or maybe out-move them would be a better phrasing...”
S: “Look, P, I don't give a shit if I gotta out-house 'em, I just wanna get past 'em.”
P: “As long as you know their routines, it should be pretty easy.”

S: “And d'ya happen ta know their routines?” he asked hopefully.
P: “Yes. Sort of. It's not exactly their routines individually or collectively so much as interactively –
it looks as if some of them flock, while others avoid, and then there are a few that just do their own
different things such as chasing or ambushing or random movements; I'm also fairly sure that they can
change between a couple of different behaviors. There's a bunch of them here, and the emergent
behavior of the whole is strongly synergetic, but ultimately no worse than a cellular automaton.”
Peach hesitated, seeing Tails's face as he considered this, his fingers doing a small dance.
“Well, I mean, they're really Langton ant-like, it's just that the automata jump to mind.”
Tails screwed up his face, “The ants could be emulated in a C.A. environment with an appropriate
rule-set.”
“Ooh, nice!” Peach replied enthusiastically.
S: “Meanin'...”
P: “Meaning that I can do it, I just need a little time to analyze things.”
Z: “That's my geek!” <cheerfully, smiles warmly, brushing side of P's hair>
S: “Y'know what I wouldn't give ta deal with visions o' sugarplums or some'n? Just once?”
P: “Ooh, I have some good recipes for those! We can go over them later, if you'd like! And that
reminds me: I was thinking about an idea for chewy maple candies with a coffee crème coating...”
Z: “A-a-and... we're off chasing shiny squirrels again...”
She lowered her head, placing her face in her palm, and wondered idly if Warbotdorf had moments
like these with his evil minions. He likely just has them killed on the spot, but surely I'm not the only
one?
=====
Dead thwomps strewn about.

S: “Well, fuck me runnin'...”
Meet Puck.
Ruru: lælolɛlu; rɛrulelu lɑʔɑː. lɑɑlolɑɑlylulɛ lolo lɑꜛlĭ?

Puck: wɪwo.wiwɛ.wəwɑɑ.wowɑɑ.ɽæɽɪ ɽyɽu.ɽɛ ɽoɽɛ.ɽoɽi.
Ruru: ll... lolɛlo ləlæləlelɹli lylulɛ lɑꜛlĭ?
Puck: wɪwo.wiwɛ.wəwɑɑ.wowɑɑ.ɽæɽɪ.ɽæɽi.ɽuwɛ.ɽæɽɪ ɽoɽɛ.ɽoɽi. wɑꜛɽĭ wowɛ.ɽo wəwæ.ɽəɽɛ.ɽowa.wi
ɽyɽu.ɽɛ?
Ruru: 'to... anata wa Nihongo o hanasemasu ka?
<Puck blinks incomprehension.>
Ruru <sighs> → party: This is going to take a little while...
<Ruru later mentions that Puck thinks Warbotdorf's an asshole, clarifying that his exact wording had
been “shit-downer”, which had context that gave her the impression of someone shitting from above
and not caring who or what it hits.>
Drawn to them by their emotions.

Ruru explains the difference, that he's a natural creature, an air yōsei, not a Kaijin.
Puck tells of a strange stone, a blue-green thing with surreal facial carvings that change over time.
Warbotdorf calls it a behelit. It was Warbotdorf's desire that had drawn Puck to him.
“You shittin' me?”
Z: “You keep looking back. What are you expecting to see?”

S: “Don't expect shit. Just wonderin' if Gollum is gonna show up or some'n – an' I ain't all that
jokin'. He's gotta know we'd be out here event'chully, or someone would anyway, so how come we're
still fuckin' around like a Sunday afternoon stroll wit' no worries?”
Titans and χθόνια in Dantean punishment situations
=====
“What manner of twice-damned things are these?”

“I think ya just answered yer own question there, Z. Twice damned... things. An' this time, I don't
think 'Klaatu barada nikto' is gonna do fuck-all – we had Jack shit, now Jack left town an' took the shit
with 'im. Still though, I guess the spice must flow.”
Zelda didn't even bother to slap him.
They stared out over the plain.
Some of the abominations were reasonably familiar: the ReDead, walking piranha plants with long
and glistening whip-like stamina darting from their receptacles, adamantine Chain Chomps,
cybernetically modified fauna.
Parts of the plain crawled with masses of indescribable horrors – giant worms with squid-like
tentacles ending in hooks, scores of eyes, and great fanged mouths festooning their bodies.
Other areas showed hazy patches of an electric-purple fog that made the eye water as if trying to see
in a direction that weren't there, unnatural creatures and putrescent green bolts pouring forth. Leech-
mouthed women with scorpion claws, goat-headed daemons with four arms, bloated things covered in
pustules and leaking fumes, pink and blue masses with crescent-moon heads and parrot beaks, giant
maggots with crab legs, rat-people with advanced tech-weapons and unspeakable mutations.
It seemed as if the air itself were whispering. Just below the threshold of hearing. Foul secrets that
would drive insane any who heard.
A sense of doom settled on them. What hope could there possibly be, facing such a force?
On the butte overlooking Warbotdorf's badlands base.

S passes the photo-gravitic binoculars to Z. Z adjusts the depth-penetration, spots what S had seen.
Pérdida in time-stasis, locked at moment of greatest anguish as her soul is ripped out of her body,
the split second of her death.
Z [Pérdida à la Rigoletto]: “Erstwhile love, la donna è mobile”;
P: “So... la donna: immobile?”
All laugh
P: Oh, crap – Zelda, I'm so sorry! I wasn't thinking! Shit!
Z: Fuck her blaggard ass. She took a hike. Not my problem anymore. The attern trollop sought
power, sold me out, and got played.
The gulf between herself and who she'd been all those years before made alien the the sight before
her now. She remembered it all, though in a hazy, indistinct gestalt, packaged as if in a snow globe
frozen in time. Pérdida's destruction meant nothing to her beyond it being some fact that happened to
be evident – indeed, Pérdida's machinations to destroy her when they'd been together were themselves
now only so many dry, irrelevant data, meaningless and divorced from who she'd become.
P feels bad for Pérdida, but worse for Zelda.
Their best guess is that Pérdida is being used as Warbotdorf's psionic battery to power his
conjurings. This is Warbotdorf's key to power.
That night, Z dreamt of a large gathering of people on a beautiful sunlit day, perhaps a town picnic,
she couldn't be sure. The scene changed quickly to one of a deserted town by night, clearly having
been ravaged by something, the wind whistling through buildings without a soul to be seen. She was
one of a dozen or so people huddled away within one of these buildings. One of their number had
reached forth toward the front door and she'd called out quietly for them not to, that it wasn't safe, but it
had already been too late. The warning still leaving her lips, an evil witch with glistening dark green
skin and corpse eyes burst her head through the gap of the door that stood barely ajar, and then there
was only panic, blood and screaming, and then silence. Ichor spattered about. Skulls opened to the air.
Death and a burning cold that seared its way through her very core.
Each night for the next week saw Z wracked with such terrors, P by her side through them all.
The last night, Z dreamt that she lived in a small and solidly built house, and had closed and locked
all of the windows and blinds and drapes against Pérdida, yet someone had opened them all. Dreading
that Pérdida would gain entrance thus, she rushed to seal them all again, but as she drew up on the door,
Pérdida rounded the corner. Seeing her, Pérdida flew into a screaming rage, tearing at the door and
demanding to be let in. In moments, she had torn apart the very framework of the doorway. Z called
the Night Watch in a panic as Pérdida fled, but when morning came, she found that she'd received
orders to the desert of Central Rygar, and she feared what might become of her cat should Pérdida
return while she was away.
=====
At the Tor Diablo, lying on a massive ley line nexus.

Having skirted the territory of a tribe of Swamp Marmots 3, and finally leaving behind the saber-
toothed mud weasels and packs of cat-weasels, they opted for a causeway approach, playing hide and
seek with the moat monsters in the process, rather than walk through the front door. The moat
monsters were squishy things with yard long maroon eye-stalks, squid-like olive-green tentacles of
several paces a piece, and huge sturgeon-like bodies, their backs lined with venomous barbs that they
could direct, and their mouths swarmed with pedipalps, maxillae, and chelicerae beneath a wicked
rostrum. Their skin was as tough as steel, but pliant, with a thick layer of blubber beneath – blunt
weapons bounced off, and edged or piercing weapons must penetrate sufficiently far before incurring
any real [HP, rather than mere SDC] damage. The debilitating inky-ooze that they secreted made them
difficult to grapple as well as causing hallucinations if ingested or absorbed through skin or mucosa.
Sonic was pushing to capture at least one for a roast before going dungeon crawling. Zelda ignored
this and whispered an incantation, causing a mist to rise from the waters, obscuring them from the moat
monsters' many eyes.
As each side prepared for the climactic resolution, Peach realized that Pérdida was no battery – she was
a capacitor, or more akin to a step-up transformer.
Standing before the fresco, the party hesitated.

“I know that it would get us down sooner, like an elevator, but isn't there an off-chance of mishap?”
Peach was uncomfortable about the the long-dead portal, and had argued in favor of the stairs. The
stairs, on the other hand, were in poor repair, showed signs of some use, and were likely rigged against
intruders.
“Where's Nodwick when ya need 'im?”
Zelda ignored this as she channeled arcane energies to activate the portal directly to the fourth level,
second layer, her will and words giving them purpose.
“We need ta get through this level fast. I dunno what kinda shit His Grand Ego-ness has planned, but
I guaran-freakin'-tee ya the motherfucker's got this place surveilled like a motherfucker.”
All about them were exploded sheep carcasses strewn throughout the area.
“We're he-e-ere... place could maybe use some spooky theme music. Some'n forebodin' fer now,
then really tense later on. Hey, any o' you think them sheep mighta been suicide... baa-ers?”
This time, Zelda slapped him across the back of his head.
Making their way through the level, they encountered no resistance at first. There were numerous
skeletal remains of various species that had succumbed to traps now long triggered or disarmed, or
merely out of power or ammunition.
At first, Peach tried to catalog them all – pressure plates and squeezing walls, light beam thresholds
and javelins, pressurized salts and secret doors within sarcophagi, collapsing floors and snake pits,
3 Swamp Marmots: Very much like Bullywugs, with a few obvious differences. Tribes of them often tame mud weasels and cat-
weasels for the hunt, and their most powerful druid-shamans have been known to make unreliable allies of moat monsters. Those
Marmots who live long enough suffer the congenital issue of sprouting fungal growths that eventually transform their bodies into mats
and hummocks that the community feeds and in turn feeds upon.
cantilevered halls and flaming oil – but there were so many, and they went through them so quickly,
that she had to hope that she could recall them all later for study.
Eventually the remains began to peter out, the traps grew more frequently active, the bodies were
more fresh.
S: Seriously Z, this don't pan out. Yer sayin' that this place is supposed ta be a death trap? I done
that before. Only place I ever seen it was Warbotdorf's trainin' deathmazes on Möbius. Nobody does
this shit just fer fun or whatever.
Z: The whole is designed to funnel everything generally north-northeast. Sometimes monster
species move into an area and stake it for their own, then they trap it; eventually, they die out or suffer
hostile takeover and the new ones repeat the process. Over generations, the layers of traps become nigh
on an impassable thicket throughout.
After two hours, they reached their first live threat.
S: Avocado, squash, and passion fruit... seriously, what's wit' this place an' the décor?
Z: Giddy Goons.
S: And now with the purple opossums and baboon lips. What kinda ass-hat god-wannabe thought
these up an' stuck 'em here of all places?
Ruru casts a Sleep ensorcellment, dull points within diffuse pastel puffs drift down on them quickly.
Ceiling drips constantly, loads of pink noise.

Fire bats. Horned hoop-dillo shows up to devour corpses.
S: Look, I'm just sayin' the stonework's gorgeous an' all, but where's alla the wood come from in the
first place? An' who's lightin' alla these torches anyways?
Turning the corner, they see a sprawling room with stairs and pavilions strewn about at random. A
cemetery was laid out in the far corner. The roof was lost in a murky haze in a color palette of bruises.
Hematite slugs; slime is sticky and caustic.
Zelda melts ground to slow them: large pale gray-blue bubbles forming from the surface, chains of
smoke wrapping around their flailing eye-stalks; party bum-rushes them with improvised blunt
weapons.
Cavernous room with a red-toned black and blackened red motif. Massive Trolls chained by all
entryways; Minotaurs with multiple scorpion-tails from their backs and armed with war-cleavers
embracing the dominance over the lesser species present. Flying buttresses every thirty feet. Pedestals
and toppled pillars, colossal chains, fire pits roasting beasts best left unidentified. Smoky brick-red Fu
Lions underfoot all about. Enslaved monsters played an odd rhythmic music with hollow tubes in sand
to complete the ensemble.
S: Great... a troll-level...
P: Ooh! You have your scary music now, Sonic!
S: Yeah. Just what we needed...
Climb giant idol of a horned rat (ruby eyes as large as their heads; Sonic attempts to prise one, but
fails) enwrapped by a sort of two-headed snake-thing. Gables cross ceiling, beginning just above top of
idol.
S: Hold tight.
P: <distractedly> Tightly; adverb.
T: <shakes head> Tight. You'd need the adjective in this case because he's trying to express that it's
the purpose of the grip itself to be a tight one, not the manner of the gripping – like dressing warm, not
warmly.
P: <pauses> Are you sure? 'Tight' can be an adverb, but–

S: Maybe focus on the task at hand f'now, an' save the Readin' Rainbow shit fer later guys? Freakin'
mishegas.
Sneak across joists, dust trickles down into flagon unnoticed, escape.
Floor sharks.
S: Ain't seen a single pisser yet.
Z: Didn't you just go a few minutes ago?
S: Yeah, but there ain't no bathrooms.
Z: And?
S; So where do they go? The monsters, I mean. An' where's it all go to? Tails can prob'ly see what I
mean. The place should be fulla shit 'n' rotten corpses everywhere.
Z: Your point is?
S: This place. Ya said it goes all along the towers an' inta the forest, right? So it just hit me... alla
this is just one honkin' colossal cave, right? Ya got some'n like five or six thousand miles o' this shit?
Z: <thinks for a moment> Aye, right about that.
S: An' again I ask: 'zat sound normal t'you?
Z: Aye. Why shouldn't it?
S: A dungeon thing, sounds like a mile or two across a lotta the time, God knows how freakin' deep,
an' it goes on fer a few thousand miles. Nuttin' funny there, eh?
Z: We tried asking the monsters to play nice, but they weren't having it.
S: That ain't the point! Who the hell does this? I mean, ya don't exactly have a mega-construction
company in the yellow pages, an' yer magic don't look like it's up ta this kinda job.
Z: The line is ancient. It was our last defense in dark times.
S: Yeah, great, I get that. It still don't explain how the hell it got here or who made it.
P considers this, filing it away for future research. It had never occurred to her – it was simply part
of the way that the world was, an ancient thing that had stood the test of millennia – and it felt... strange
to think on it now, her mind shying away from the topic. That this hadn't crossed her mind before
struck her as odd, given her self-model. That fact alone bore its own need for consideration at some
later time.
P: Sonic? I'm having trouble thinking about this. Zelda, can you focus on it at all?
S cocks his head curiously.
Z: I am. He asked about the dungeon, and I told him it's been here forever.
P: Precisely. Who made it?
Z: Ancient mages in dark times.
P: Uh-huh, but who?
Z: Why does it matter?
P: Because I don't remember ever actually learning anything about it. It simply is, and everyone
dismisses it as some ancient wonder – as if that explains anything at all. It's not as if a million slaves
could have chipped it out of granite with copper chisels and stone hammers. Even the Mushroom
Kingdom's technology isn't up to this kind of a task. And I'm really having a lot of trouble even putting
together these sentences.
Sonic arched his brow sharply, eyes narrowing, burrowing into her.
“Waddya mean 'trouble'?”
“I can't keep my questions in mind. They skitter away sideways and I keep finding myself looking at
some pretty part of the wall or something instead.”
“I ain't got that problem. Tails? Ruru? You guys followin' alla this shit? Got any trouble with any of
it?”
They nodded and shook their heads in succession.
“An' Z? How 'bout'chu?”
“I don't care about it. It's an old hole in the ground and it serves its function. What's to follow?”
His eyes narrowed further, thinking this over. Not just her reply, but her very response itself.
“O.K., P, ya got me. You guys got some'n real funny-like goin' on in yer heads, an' it don't seem ta
be doin' shit ta us. You guys're locals, so maybe there's some crazy mind-field dampin' yer thoughts
about it. We gotta get back ta that, but right now ain't the time. Don't worry though, we'll remember for
ya – Tails, yer on this one, right?”
Tails nodded very seriously.
Peach smiled and gave them both a relieved look of thanks before relaxing back to watching the
floor sharks' dorsal fins drift around lazily across the stone surface.
Resting atop a precipice, they looked out across a vast chamber. Part of the gloom was broken up by
the glow coming from a distant cascade of magma, the depths receding into darkness and areas of
bioluminescent fungi, while the walls showed veins of feebly glowing crystals.
The remains of dinner lay around them – a giant spider and the rinds of the house-sized mushrooms
that they were using to fuel their fire. Turning from his indecision over whether the mutant were closer
to portobello or chanterelle, Sonic eyeballed their immediate route.
S: How much longer we got, Z? An' are ya sure we're headin' the right way?
Z: Nayru, yes! The entire line is laid out in a simple continuous track from end to end; there are
some forks between levels, and obviously minor detours, but it's simply not meant to be a labyrinth.
There's no knowing just where he'll be, but aye, we're close now.
S: Is it just me, or has it gotten real deserted down here, the past few levels?
Sonic watched as a snake-like thing bounced along the face of a nearby cliff, kangaroo-like in its
spring-coiled form.
S: Also, I ever mention you guys got a lotta weird shit in this place?
Z: Aye, more than once.
P: The mushroom was really good! Kind of like the body of shiitake, with a robust portobello
flavor, but not too strong, and a little undercurrent of truffle. It went really well with the spider, too.
Z: I'm not sure if I should cut your time around him or increase it.
T: Well, they did go together really well.
R: Mm-hmm, and the spider had a natural cod-like flavor to it that went great with the smoky
mesquite from the burning mushroom! I only wish that we had some ghee and lemon...
S: An' maybe some chestnuts.
Z: Nayru help me, I'm surrounded by him, now.
Sonic grinned to the others, “Y'know, call me Arne Saknussemm if ya want, but I saw some'n big
scuttlin' around down there a little while ago. Once we reach the floor o' this next gallery, we can
maybe catch us some'n that might be remotely related ta lobster...”
=====
S <banging steel pipe against stone wall>: War-bot-dorf, come out an' pla-ay... War-bot-do-o-orf, come
out an' play-ay...
They'd traveled long and far to reach this point, and S was in the mood to really enjoy it.
[Keep late Sep → Samhain 31 Oct
+ 2mo winter travel @ ½ spd. = Dagurashibanipal New Year
+ 2mo less-slow travel @ ¾ spd. = Schöndunkelundtief late Feb

+ 20d = Valjean's mid Mar
+ 2mo = Freeport late Apr
+ 3.5mo = Hyrule late Aug
+ ~23d to DKC + 10d cross-country = Kong Manor start Oct @ T - ~90d
+ 2-3w wedding and research = late Oct @ T - 70d
+ 40d = Tor Diablo early Dec @ T - <30d
+ <30d @ ½ spd. Walk = 350-400 miles,
~ 2/5 toward Tor Draco,
probably east of Sarasa City longitude by now]
R: you know, there's a word in lelrli for pure evil. “loloollolo.” It's a little complicated, but it
implies crazy, unpredictable, and utterly malicious.
T asks spelling in odd voice.
R spells in Common equivalent.
T: So... 1010011010?
R nods after a moment of thought, looks on expectantly.
T: Odd coincidence.
R keeps looking.
T: Binary. That number has some significance in other worlds, and represents ultimate evil to some.
=====
W: You received my invitation then, I take it?

S: Dead kid, bunch o' stones? Yeah, yer a real subtle one fer that.
W: Gaze upon my works!
S: Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair. Really? Yer really gonna do this? Tell ya what, ya
need ta talk wit'cher scriptwriters. First off, ya got the quote wrong. Next, not really all that original.
Finally, just a little O.T.T., y'know?
R: <jerks head around> You do that all of the time!
S: No, I paraphrase fer effect and make allusions ta reach for somethin' ya can't express simply; it's
artistic license. He's just a freakin' two-bit hack. There's a difference.
R makes disbelieving face.
Warbotdorf's plan: Pérdida's temporal stasis acts like a dam, building up a backlog; being a
sorceress means that it's a big dam, and being other-worldly (of some alien Eldrin phylum, yes, but as a
Wendigo [this not being a species, but rather a psych template like 3.x D&D and something like
alignment]) means that her life force is connected to a world-pond far from Light World. When that
thread snaps and like calls to like, the released tension double integrates with the temporal flood,
resonating with one another. This feeds into the Grue through a psychic link that he'd established long
ago between them and her, with the Ley Lines chaining back to the Vampire Aeries (Lumley's
Necroscope [see also MasterBook / West End Games]; ghouls akin to “Lifeforce” and “Night of the
comet”) on Mount Ouroboros, paravolving the Grue into multiple subspecies (neither upward nor
downward, but sideways in time, into what-if) – Xenomorphs, Bioraptors, Chtorran Gastropedes, and
Harvesters (ID4). Their dead victims become contagious zombies, their escaped victims (non-
contagious) either Firefly Reavers or CHUD-Crawlers (The Descent). The megadeaths from their
release upon the world feed into a Ley Line surge, bringing about his apotheotic Ascension.
Emeralds channel chaos energies without being affected themselves. Golden rings superconduct
gravitomotive induction field. All of this bridges to shadow level tunnels (super mario). Beneath the
machine yawned a chasm.
ITEM: Known overlaps
Terminator / aliens / battlestar galactica / firefly / starlost / blade runner
CONSIDER: crossovers?
Dollhouse / charmed / altered carbon / continuum / fringe
Z: Hello. My name is Zelda Hylia. Ye killed my family. Prepare tae die.

W explained, as if Z had never said a word: I investigated this pit more than any other weak point in
this pathetic world. There's an entire realm down there, though only through here – simply burrowing
through the ground anywhere else would lead only to stone. There's even a hidden palace there, and a
large body of water.
S: I'm the one with a program in my head, but I swear all you fuckers read'jer lines outta the same
play book every single fuckin' time.
Z: Fucking mentiroso... the lowest form of life in existence. You lie even with the truth.
W: <ignores Z> Of course, you simpleton. Own fault, designed you that way. No closer, else
destroy whole world!
R: temee – gomi!
S glances at mech, others shrug.
wbd machine slowly gyrating rings, infinitely deep at center floats a single perfect chaos emerald
cut to an omegahedron. P feels pull to fall in.
wbd plan orig for Z but perd was plan B. groomed z, needed psych template for destruction and
transmutation, but more one way to skin a cat... or a hedgehog.
S: sound like villain in a b movie. You been drinkin' yer own Kool-Aid again?
W: they failed. Idiots. Perd is a wendigo, you see. Aside from her sorcery making a bridge to another
world-pond, her very nature is consumed with consuming others. This will feed the artificial
psychomorphic field! Do you see? The noosphere itself will become infected even as the death toll
spreads.
Z's eyes took in the flows of magical energies and the technological apparatus itself, then wandered
across both forces gathered around it, the living beings that stood to suffer through it all.
W: Ahh, you begin to make the connection, I see. Yes, that's the secret that lies beneath your
precious Triforce – poetic, is it not?
S: pride and fall, asswipe.
W: I'll give you this one chance. Join me, and after some appropriate punishment you will
command my minions... those that survive.
S doesn't bother answering.
W: And you, Prower. <turning to Tails> Surely you've more intelligence than this gnat turd?
T: <looks apologetic> I'm sorry, sir, but it's the right thing to do.
W looks disgusted. “Whelp.”
Z tensed
W: don't even think of it my dear...
Her eyes burned at this, memories of her first months alone coming to the fore.
It was then that Peach chose to hurl herself into the machine. As she did so, the behelit in
Warbotdorf's hand shrieked and shriveled, rolling away on its own even as he grasped at it. Zelda
screamed and lurched after her, only to have Sonic haul her back bodily, Tails and Ruru joining to hold
her from the same fate.
Warbotdorf stared at the fetish in disbelief as the engine began to hum, energies building within it.
“Tanj – curse your sudden but inevitable betrayal!”

Sonic sneered indifferently at Warbotdorf, “All your base are belong to us. So sad, too bad, buh-bye.
Oh, and umm... you'd prob'ly prefer some'n like shah mat, but... Carthago delende est, motherfucker.”
As his body began to fade, his skin charring and floating into the air in glowing flakes and wisps,
Warbotdorf gazed at each in turn, “You think you have won. What is light without dark? What are you
without me? I am a part of you all – you can never defeat me; we are brothers, eternal...”
The engine was built to shift time. Duhan was caught in a loop. The oracle had revealed that only a
sacrifice, pure of heart, could bridge the two. It all made sense now. And now Zelda intended to
sacrifice herself to save the world.
Having crept toward the pit from curiosity, ignored by all, Peach watched for her moment, biding
her time until Warbotdorf was thoroughly engrossed with the others and his own oration; unable to bear
what would happen to Zelda, she threw herself into it in her stead.
Her eyes closed, Peach held tight to the memory of their last kiss.
Farewell, my love. I'm sorry...
The engine released time, shadows and fragments of what used to be sweeping outward, expelled
with accelerating force. Dark light passed through everything at the same point in space. A wave
crossed their minds, the universe exploding silently, like taffy being pulled and twisted in directions
that couldn't exist, while yet remaining trapped in amber.
The moment passed and all were released. Zelda collapsed to the ground, her heart shattered.
Staring into herself, she receded from the world, from life, from all of existence.
The one thing that was pure – who should have remained and been kept safe, cherished, revered –
gone. My light, my life... my everything. She was a fucking innocent!
Peach's body was torn away, atom by atom. An eternity passed in the blink of an eye. She remembered
now what she had lost.
I am Ōkami. My job is done; I am free now. I may return home.
Turning toward the distant lights, she felt a pull from deep within her being.
I see trees of green, red roses too,

I see them bloom for me and you,
and I think to myself
what a wonderful world...
Peach touched her shoulder, and Zelda nuzzled the ghost in her mind. Peach kissed Zelda's cheek, the
soft caress of her hand recalling Zelda to a better time in another place, another life.
Zelda stared into Peach's eyes for what felt like hours, knowing that it couldn't last, fearing that she'd
soon return to her mind, to the bleak world around her, alone again.
Peach lifted Zelda's face, rubbing her nose across Zelda's nose and cheekbone, down her ear and
neck. Honeysuckle.
She smiled, her eyes shining.
“I love you Zelda. I'm not going anywhere.”
Zelda finally broke. Her tears hot, acid. Whimpers escaped her throat as her body convulsed.
“You rise like a wave in the ocean,

and you fall gently back to the sea.
Now I want to know how to hold you.

Return to me...
return to me...
You shine like the moon over water,

and you darken the sky when you leave.
Now I want to know how to keep you.
Return to me...
return to me...
turn to me,
return to me...
“I love you too, my princess,” she whispered, her elegy complete, her soul a hollow shell.
She leaned her forehead into Peach's chest.
“Why? It was supposed to be me.”
Peach looked perplexed.
“Zelda? It's O.K.. We got the bad guy.”
Zelda's head remained bowed.
“Aye. And at what cost? You're dead, and I'm crazed.”
“Zelda, I'm right here. I love you.”
Zelda looked up. Shock battled relief, complete incomprehension winning out.
“But how...?”
“The prophecy never actually said that anyone had to die, only that a sacrifice occur. I sacrificed
myself so that you might live, but... it turns out that I'm not what I thought, or at least not solely what I
thought. The point is that I'm here. For you. Alive. And I'm not going anywhere.”
Zelda whooped and screamed out laughing, picking Peach up by the waist and whirling around.
Peach held on and laughed with her.
Finally setting her down, Zelda refused to let her go, showering her with kisses, squeezing her to
reassure herself that Peach really was there.
Exiting the machine's chambers, they found the rest of the party morose and lost in thought until they
realized that Peach had made it. The others rushed her for hugs.
She explained that she couldn't remember everything from before, but that she knew that Warbotdorf
was now caught in a red-shifted time loop. Where he was, time would pass infinitely slowly, and
would repeat sequences in variation until he gained insight and compassion, if he weren't first released
or to somehow escape. They'd have to hunt down the zombies, since he'd created them locally, but the
creatures that he had half-ported in would dissolve back to their home realms fairly soon, and Pérdida
would... go someplace appropriate – she couldn't remember anything more detailed than that, but she
was sure that it would be something helpful and positive in the end. The Ōkami had planned it all out
millennia ago, including the Sheikah Wars.
“So... big badda-boom, an' close wit' a Matrix,” Sonic summarized.
And while Peach's explanation had covered the details of events and their precursors, it also left
Zelda with a small knot of fear spreading slowly through her core, infusing her with the shadow of
trepidation. She's wonderful, and that alone is difficult enough in seeking to be worthy of her love – on
top of which she has shown herself in every way to be so much more than I could ever have hoped or
dreamt of – to attempt to live up to whatever she sees in me. How now am I to live up to her being
Ōkami?
O ~~~ O
Epilogue: Coming in from the cold

**********
6562 – 03 – 15
ALCON
RE: IMPERIAL DEBRIEF
RECOMMENDATIONS REQ'D
//////////
PEACH
Why won't the Ōkami simply stop the problem? Well, not everything is as clear as it was, but I still
remember some of it. It's like a prime directive: we don't interfere – just nudge things a little. To guide
everything is to waste our time on lesser things, as well as to affect natural selection, and finally... well,
call it a cold-truce. If we were to involve ourselves directly, then so too would The Others, and that
would be unhealthy for a great many worlds.
Besides, who'd want to rule over an ant farm anyway, especially with so much to see and experience in
the worlds? It would be like an international super-power political conference concerning itself over
which side of a tree a couple of dogs were marking.
Power is always there. Life implies death. To live, everything now alive requires that everything else
that isn't alive anymore have died for it to now live. Plants push one another out of the light.
Everything eats everything else. Life is death. Death is the power and gift to live.
ZELDA
So there we were the other night, Peach reading a book and I in a marathon on Scrynet, catching up on
Spell Trek: The Next Generation, when she turns to me an' says 'Oh, honey, you're a Goddess!' and
plants this kiss on me – now I thought 'Sweet! I'm gonna score!' and dove straight into her tits, but
nooo, she'd meant it. Well, here she is making appreciative noises an' all, but still she tells me that
she'd meant it; like, really-meant-it meant-it, as in literally a Goddess. Hylia, no less! Talk about a
mood-killer. Aye – she'd just suddenly remembered that – what the hell am I supposed to do with that,
I ask ye?!?
TAILS
[Very serious look, like a four year old waiting to go to the zoo as promised, even in the thunderstorm.]
Y'know, Zelda promised me tutors and as many books as I want. Can we do that soon, please? I have
my preliminary lists all worked out already!
ZELDA
D'ye know what that does t'yer head, man? I'll tell ye what it does. It does ye right in! It explains
some shit Nayru's pulled – and believe me, am I gonna give her a piece of my mind the next chance I
get! I mean, here I am wandering through nine kinds of Hell this whole time, for a decade and a half,
while they're up there, lounging around the Empyrean, scarfing down ambrosia and nectar and gettin'
high on æther; whose brilliant idea was that, I wonder. I'm tempted to beat the shit out of the lot of
them, I tell ye!

Ach, for shit's sake, stop cowering man! Ye've done naught wrong and I can't cast thunderbolts! At
least I don't think so anyway... Hmm... I wonder if I can cast thunderbolts...
SONIC
Fuckin' Puzzle Palace putzes – and don't call me 'sir'; I work fer a livin'. Ya got all the details, now
either fuck off an' lemme see the others, or I tear this fuckin' place apart.
[Face utterly calm and empty.]
Then y'kingdom.
Then yer empire.
Your choice, Secret Squirrel.
Tick. Tock.
<staring dead at the alpha, alpha's cover blown. Breathing exercises trigger heightened senses and
reflexes. Cold smile; reptilian stare. Sure some of them had it too, but they were housecats staring
down a hungry hyaena, and they knew it. The others were officious and clueless; Sonic glanced across
them and smirked, dismissing their existence (their presences literally becoming gray blurs in his visual
field), returning his gaze to the “hidden” alpha – who might as well have been sitting in a spotlight. The
alpha's foot shifted ever so slightly. Sonic's smile warmed.>
Not so hard, eh?
TAILS
Is that really your real hair, mister?
ZELDA
So. I'm an incarnation of a goddess. Great. When I die, then what? She sucks me back up and I wake
up as her, an' this whole life was just a dream...?
RURU
Why won't anyone ask me any more questions? I have had one interview only so far. The Ruru has
many more important informations for you!
ZELDA
Stick a fork in me, I'm done.
TAILS
We've been talking for a while now. Could I have some milk and cookies?
<quiet guy in back sends flunky for whole plate and quart>
ICK BEN NIEMAND, primary investigating agent
They're stonewalling.
PEACH
O.K., boys. We've talked a lot, and I've answered a lot of questions, so why don't you play nice and
bring me to Zelda, O.K.? Trust me, it's a much better idea than your alternative.
TAILS
And a foot long hot roast beef hero, with brown gravy? And heavy on the button mushrooms!
<same quiet guy flicks head at flunky again>
And lots of salt and pepper.
<I'll bring cellars, a tureen, the works; flunky hastens out>
ZELDA
Maybe they have groups for this, yeah? You walk in, say your name, tell them who you are, they say
'Hi, Zelda,' and you go on to explain 'I've been a mortal for thirty years...'
DANTE RANDAL, PhD, MD, LPC, LCSW

A Goddess? I wasn't trained for this!!!
ZELDA
Man, that feels so good to get off of my chest! Can we schedule another appointment for next week?
Or maybe tomorrow? Is your schedule open tomorrow?
Oh, wait – even better: how about both?
<shrink gulps, glances wide eyed around room, smiles wanly, “I'm afraid that it is now, Prin – Emp
– Your Grace...”>
Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.
TAILS
She also said that I could have a research team and a fully equipped facility. I mean, like, for
everything. And tenure with no oversight!
ZELDA
I mean, I get the past lives, yeah, but – oh, ye didn't know – look, it's just a whole different level, right?
I'm not even supposed to be here today!
// LAST ITEM //
END OF TRANSCRIPT
PLEASE ADVISE SOONEST
V/R
// SIGNED //
ICK BEN NIEMAND
**********
Zelda's combat challenge, try not to hurt or kill anyone too much (facetious retort, nose tweak).
Grand Capital Hotel, Crown Suite. The scent of books fills the air. Peach plays video games in
sweat pants or t-shirt (rarely both – by this point, she's grown thoroughly used to being in various states
of undress around the others again), though often just her flannel shirt from Freeport that smells of
Zelda. Zelda enjoys watching her enjoy herself, but usually doesn't join, since they each get a bit
intense, leading to a vicious cycle. P's handle is “DethTüng,” her avatar a penguin with a tuba and an
olive loaf (both the handle and the avatar were Sonic's suggestions, along with a tag-line about
porcupines and raisins); she occasionally screams “Alliance scum!”
At end of third day's combat, Peach has surprise for Zelda: sings “I can't help falling in love with
you”, her piping voice clear and strong, carrying well through the amphitheater's ranks and hallways.
"Deathclaw: the tale of Mister Fluffykins" sidequel link
Zelda's edicts (re.: abolition of Asimovian laws in Golems, zoos' conversion to open sanctuaries [tour at
own peril], etc.).
Imperial university theory-and-tech. tenure-and-student exchange incentive program (P's idea and
pet-project) brings science to magic, magic to psionics, etc. (golem-bots being just one example of
recent snowballing trend, though they have a predilection for the animistically psychedelic effects 1
brought about by sniffing different teas, and a fascination with body modifications – often catering to
1 Tea-sniffing Golem-bots: Penguins in ice caves, sexy anthropomorphic unicorns, talking sponges, etc.. Bread (especially if fresh)
also has some odd effects on some of them; soda bread holds an uncanny allure for some.
bizarre tastes in entertainment and fetishes; though the hypothetical work on Asimovian Laws and
variants continues, her Imperial Edict bans non-voluntary placement of such into the mind of a sentient
or pre-sentient thaumatronic matrix).
Z puts P & T as a team in charge of encyc tech; T knows hi tech, P knows light world's social
integration of current tech levels – T's thinking uncomfortably of the most rapid deployment and
absorption of spoon-fed upgrades probably being through warcraft and sex, and possibly cats, already
working on networking scrynet and intervision in his head. S makes side-comment about having their
very own Science Ninja Team.
Civic outreach program to Freeport with food, shelter, school
Sonic's accolade as Sir Sonic, Grand Count of Monte Mortis and surrounds, Lord of the Realm 2 [sings
to himself “If I only had the nerve”], he asks if she's sure he ain't the count o' Monte Cristo instead and
tells her that he'll get-her-fuckin'-back-fer-this, she asks if he plans to short-sheet her bed, he replies “I
might, rabbit, I might, and maybe I'll just write a book about alla this an' expose yer secrets like a
tabloid...”; the Fridays are named Countesses thereof; proclamation of Daisy as Prime Minister and
Ambassador Plenipotentiary; proclamation of Kitana as Duchess of the Outer Marches, with Novaya
Edenia directly in fiefdom to Hyrule; Imperial Warrant of Appointment is issued to Valjean's.
House Otelier of Duhan was restored to their chair at the Imperial Council. House Koopa was
demoted to a minor House and in thrall to House Kong; House Kong's part in the affair is left
unmentioned, though it's granted a full pardon in camber.
While Sonic isn't officially in charge of Imperial Security, it was at his later behest that those with red
or gold shirts were redesigned to blue themes.
Upon the various pronouncements and official duties having been dispensed with, Peach's parents
swanned forth from the courtiers, smiling and waving to every camera as they did. Before they had
reached ten paces from the thrones, Zelda arrested their progress with a cold stare. Peach tensed,
stiffening visibly even to those not nearby.
“Kneel.”
The word echoed across the court, clear to all, her voice still and level.
“You shall not dare approach My wife, your Queen, in so familiar a manner,” she declared with a
voice cold and harsh as Peach had never before heard it. While not a hiss, her utterance carried the
quality of one to the point that she strained to hear what was said right next to her.
“Cuckoos have more parenting skill and instinct. Do you know Her favorite color? What She sings
when She's lonely? Do these things even mean anything to you? Stand lucky that I spare you your
craven lives.
“You would do well to choose your next actions most wisely. You may remain for the dinner and
leave once you're sufficiently well fed. You shall not return lest We see fit to have you summoned. You
are unfit to rule, continuing to do so only by the grace of your Queen's mercy; I would not be so kind.
2 Sir: Yes, Sonic is being both knighted and recognized as a peer.
Whereas knighthood is conferred on commoners in the real world, it's not an elevation of status within the Hyrule Empire. Some
social status obtains, to be sure, but primarily in esteem due to what said knighthood implies. It stems from martial services rendered
in extremis, by one not of the Hyrule armies, and is rarely extended to any who are not Hyrule subjects.
His peerdom is strictly secondary to this, though holding greater general social weight in legitimizing his clear citizenship. The fact
that she chose to make him Grand Count, rather than Duke or Grand Duke, indicates his place in her heart and that he holds her ear.
The simultaneity of the titles herein indicates that they are separate and equal in the empress's eyes, further underscoring the
formidable nature of the recipient. In this, she is publicly recognizing his acts with the one while also declaring his honor with the
other.
“Look into My eyes and see the truth of it,” she continued, her face still as a statue, colder than
marble, her eyes as empty as glass, “You see it. Know you that I see you, and know what you are.
Monsters are real, they just never look monstrous. Your words charm and manners beguile. See you any
compassion within My gaze? Or even so much as loathing?
“Now leave Us, and remove therewith whatever gifts art thine.”
Throughout, she'd been utterly relaxed, showing no emotion whatsoever. Cold. Empty. Reptilian.
Zelda stood and turned to the gathered audience and cameras, clearing her throat. Peach stood quiet
and still next to her, the very picture of regality.
All fell silent.
She gave both those gathered before her and all of the press a sweeping stare, then leaned in, her
countenance that of a mother bear. A very perturbed mother bear woken a month early. The
microphone cannons picked up even her breathing, to be simulcast live around the world on scrynet
and intervision.
“Peach is not just My wife and queen, but your co-primarch. Fuck with Her, or anyone else in My
family,” she paused to take in the rest of the party, including the Fridays in this, as well as Daisy and
Kitana, “and I will kill you – be you tinker, tailor, soldier... or spy. A move against one is a move
against us all.”
Formal dinner. Selection of crudités, then hors d'oeuvres beginning with white wine-marinated tofu
saté with coconut flakes and ginger-peanut sauce, followed by maple sesame cauliflower and wontons;
the curried crab vol-au-vent went particularly well. Sonic had had a hand in all of this, and it showed
through the rest of the evening, notably when unveiling the blueberry-hazelnut croque-en-bouche
overflowing with Chantilly cream and a dark chocolate ganache. Gazing at the structure, the guests'
responses confirmed his hunches; the smile that plastered his face wasn't a broad one of ego, but a calm
one of satisfaction at having created something worthy of their praise and pleasure.
=====
P: I have a tutor now. Two of them, actually.

Z: That's a good start, but Tails'll need a lot more than just two.
P doesn't say anything, just looks at feet.
Z: What?
P: Apparently what you said had some impact – even Daisy's never been that direct with them.
Daddy said that no daughter of his was going to go off half-cocked, so he sent his master spy to train
me. Then my uncle wasn't about to be outdone, so he sent his master spy to train me. And now they're
holed up in the study – the one adjoining the main library – working out a syllabus and a rubric. This
means that I'll probably be a first level spy in about a month.
Z: <cracked her knuckles> Does Sonic know of this yet?
P shook her head.
Z: We'd best find him then, before he finds them, and they find out the hard way.
INSERT INTERLUDES: "Alexander's horned cabinet" [ORCEA] sidequel link, then "10 Sock hop
(Zelda x Peach" sidequel link and "28 Nightmare at 20,000 RPM (Zelda x Peach)" sidequel link.
One year later.
Warbotdorf had a nagging feeling of imminent death – or is that recent death – from a fire-belching
capital “D” while having searched for an amulet? A fading memory, as if of a dream, of having run
into corpses identical to himself, though with various differences in their equipment.
Shaking his head to clear it, he looked around.
At first, he suffered the impression of standing at the end of a road, almost as if there were another
image hiding behind what was in plain sight – well, certainly there was a forest around him at any rate.
Instead of a road though, he stood next to a small closed mailbox in an open field west of a white house
with a rubber mat lying by its boarded front door. There was a brass lamp here, and a sign leaning
against a pile of pebbles and small stones. To the west, as well as to both the north and south of the
house, narrow paths wound through the trees. He could hear a gurgling stream to the south.
Taking inventory, he found that he carried only a pouch containing a yellow towel, a single silver
zorkmid coin, and a punched ticket.
Ticket number 1729

Seat 25F
Acme Building Auditorium
It doesn't make much sense. It's all so hazy.

Putting it out of his mind, he opened the mailbox.
=====
Wedding. Huge public event this time.
Sonic wandered into Zelda's dressing room as she was making the final adjustments to her outfit.
He stopped and stared.
“Dress blues... and full battle rattle,” he smirked, “Seriously? P's idea ta dress ya like that, huh.”
He sniffed the air. “She even gotcha ta take a bath – wit' soap – an' put on that spiced cologne she
got'chu fer Nayrufest, huh? Damn!”
“I swear – if you laugh I will wring your scrawny neck where ye stand.”
She grimaced at the thought of being seen like this, and he grimaced in sympathy.
“Don't even think o' takin' a hike. Fer one, yer a'ready hitched; fer two, I'd have ta kill ya then. An'
then P'd kill me, no question there. An' then with all the blood 'n' the screamin'... just not pretty, huh?”
She was uncomfortable. Moreover, it was embarrassing. The armor was clean. Neither dents nor
rents, not a single blemish. Polished to a mirror surface. There wasn't a hint of sweat about it, not a
speck of blood to be seen. It was chased with gold, for Nayru's sake.
Sonic proffered a flask, which she snatched gratefully.
“Not enough ta get'cha wasted, but I smuggled it in figurin' ya'd prob'ly need some'n fer yer nerves –
an' hey, lemme get some too, when yer done. Between the two of us, if this goes off without a hitch or a
few bodies, it'll be a miracle.”
“Cheers – what's in it?” she asked, as she unscrewed the cap.
“Eh, my own concoction. 'bout four parts Bailey's, two or three cherry Heering – 'cause ya like that
shit in particular – a part or two o' Kahlúa, an' a couple o' dashes o' Malibu. Then I tossed in some two
hunnert proof, just ta be sure.”
“Heady shit,” she replied.
“L'chaim!” he nodded.
She looked at him imploringly.
“What if she says no, man?”
“Dude, that ain't gonna happen,” he reassured her.
“Aye, but what if? I mean, she's had a year off of the road. She could've seen enough and come tae
her senses!”
“Z, if that was gonna happen, she'd'a left yer sorry ass way the fuck back. 's O.K.; chill.”
“And if any speak out against this?”
“Simple. We kill 'em 'til they're deadski,” he paused and cocked his eyebrow, studying her, “am I fi'
by five here, man?”
Zelda found herself in the horns of a dilemma, and turned away for a moment to compose herself.
“Z, 'sup? Y'a'ight?”
Her head bobbed, but that was the entirety of her response.
Sonic smiled and nodded, “P's civilized ya, huh. 'scool. We can just mangle 'em, or even keep it to
excruciatin' pain, man.”
She laughed a little at this.
“Ja, that might be for the best, since I might find myself on the couch for the entire honeymoon,
otherwise.”
“An' stop scratchin' y'self like that, man. P'll ripya a new one, she catches you pullin' that shit at the
altar,” he said, glancing at his wrist as if to check a watch, “You could try throwin' on some underwear,
maybe – 'swhat they make 'em for, y'know. G'head, ya got time, 'long as the Gnomes ain't stolen 'em.”
Carnations and mums by the thousands adorned the walls and pillars, with cascades of baby's breath
a profusion of lilacs and calla lilies, and small accents of so many other flowers offsetting them in
carefully positioned areas. Zelda had seen to it that the lilacs and lilies were particularly prominent,
recalling Peach's love of them that day in Freeport.
Peach's dress was simple but beautiful, framing and highlighting her, a bouquet of pygmy piranha
plants3 nipping at one another. The veil hanging from her tiara stood out as a declaration to all.
Zelda wore a more formal version of her ranger outfit, with minor pieces of decorative armor to
provide accent. Her heart already pounding, it skipped a beat when Peach hove into view, the world
dimming around her as Zelda's focus narrowed to only Peach.
3 Piranha plants: often regarded as dangerous pests, they can be intensely loyal and quite loving when treated well, especially when
raised domestically as part of the family. Their heads being covered in a wide variety of eyes and their root systems granting them 30'
Tremorsense also makes them excellent guards.
When Peach reached the alter, she leaned over to Zelda and whispered “You look too serious, as if
you were ready to kill someone.”
Zelda gave her a quick peck, reaching to embrace her, but Peach rebuffed her gently, “Taffeta,
darling, taffeta!”
“I shall indeed wreak grievous bodily harm to any who threaten this moment. Also, you sound like
Sonic.”
“Oh, you're so sweet! Bloodthirsty, but sweet. Honey, we're already married. There's nothing to
fear.”
“Mine!” Zelda smiled, “But this day is yours, and I'll see no one ruin it for you – is that Paloma? Or
Obsession?”
Peach knew what that meant, and smiled warmly, looking forward to the evening.
“Obsession,” she replied innocently, “why?”
Zelda's only response a was a deep, frustrated growl from the back of her throat.
Reception held at The Abundant Crop of Hostesses.

Peach discovered very quickly just what made this Zelda's favorite tavern. There were quite a few
Usamimi and several species of Nekomusume. There were also Nýmphē (notably Thrakṍn Dryades
and Naiádes4) – not to mention moe Lamiai, haughty Mycenæan Hărpia 5, Kéntauroi6, Mermaids7,
Faunæ8, Drider-like Arachnoi dominae (at least a couple of whom were six sheets to the wind on
cappuccino), Fairies, sylphic loli Doppels and Slimes (none of either seeming to have any interest
whatsoever in clothing), and several extremely overly-friendly Dragons in humanoid form, among
others; there were even a few Kyklōpes, a couple of Dark Clowns 9, and a two-headed Ogress. Then
there were those who seemed to be fungal, or mineral-based, or Golem-bot, or... the selection was as
4 Dryades, Thrakṍn: Generally members of the Cult of Caïssa (a Dryad herself, though with a significant following of Naiádes and
some Nereids, she has a dual aspect as Şah Scacchis), adept in all families of chess variants (to include such outliers as chess-boxing
and RPG-chess) and related matters, thus making for intellectually stimulating conversation with the guests – not to mention brilliant
tacticians, strategists, and game theoreticians whom you just can't determine to be animal, plant, both, or something else entirely; here,
they're also nude, though Peach really couldn't tell through their strategically placed foliage.
They are also adept with the theremin and armonica, following Caïssa's lead.
5 Hărpia, Mycenæan: Their plumage would shame most tropical birds, hence their hauteur.
6 Kéntauroi: Gorgeous manes and an embarrassing and anatomically surprising abundance of both breasts and (inexplicably to Peach)
udders.
7 Mermaids: Tragedy addicts whose clothing constantly slips out of place due to their mucal coating.
8 Faunæ: Even more frolicsome than their reputations would have them.
9 Dark Clowns: Basically normal-looking clowns, just gray-scaled. Strange powers and humor, and some pretty head-scratching kinks
(not actually disgusting to anyone, so much as puzzling to almost everyone else); pray that they haven't mastered the deadly art of Jazz
Hands.
dizzying as it was astounding.

Peach finally discovered that the horned girl in Freeport had been a Succubus 10, since there were
several present. She'd had no idea that there were so many species represented in the capital, though
she supposed that it stood to reason. Some of the hostesses served drinks and canapés, and some
engaged in conversation and dance with the guests, while others... others seemed to be serving
themselves up. She wasn't entirely certain as to whether the place were a huge tavern or a high-end
brothel, or possibly an ongoing piece of performance art; in the end, she suspected that it was a little of
each. She brought her thoughts up short when they turned to the question of the Ogress.
Daisy had an absolute ball exchanging a host of scry resonances and cell numbers with every
species that she could find, disappearing several times to powder their noses together.
Zelda sings “Nobody does it better”; Peach completely breaks down at this, bawling her eyes out. Even
Sonic finds that there's something in his eyes.
When Peach then sang “True colors,” Zelda barely managed to stay put and hold it together.
=====
Zelda stood before Peach in the imperial apartment. Whatever news Peach had, Zelda was eaten up
with angst. Peach hadn't been intentionally mysterious, but hadn't said a word as they'd closeted
themselves away.
Peach looked into Zelda's eyes with a powerful mixture of emotions, and said simply “I'm
pregnant!”
The world telescoped for Zelda, lurching three feet to the left even as she found herself a speck of
dust ground between the fingertips of a Titan.
Gray, cold, silent.
Time spun in place.
Hamster wheel noises.
Floating peacefully. Tranquility.
Cold nose. Why is my nose cold? Feels... mentholated.
Can't think...
Something. Someone.
10 Succubi: Succubi possess loreal pits – infrared-sensing fossa common to pit vipers; those near their nostrils are W-shaped, offering
polarization differentiation and bidirectionality, whereas those toward the temples focus on parallax, contrast, and motion. Their eyes
are similarly unusual, in that their internal structure is that of the mantis shrimp's (16 different [color] cone-cell types, full
polarization). Furthermore, they possess sonar, and electroreceptive (active and passive) and magnetoceptive organs.
Words?
...words...
Faeck. It happened again. Walk away. Don't talk, don't ask, don't listen. Run!
Time ratcheted forward.
Zelda paused, gathering herself.
“Who's the father?” she asked quietly, her voice tight, barely more than a whisper.
What the faeck are you doing? Why are you still standing here, you idiot? You know what's coming.
Lies. Lies and more damned lies, and insanity and bullshit.
“You are...?” Peach said, confused concern evident in the tremulous note of her voice.
I told you so. Now move. Get the faeck out of here. It matters not if she's pregnant, or has cause to
think so, or is just faecking lying to faeck wi' your head. Leave. NOW.
Zelda pinched the bridge of her nose in a long-suffering look.
“Peach, I don't know how to tell you this, but it doesn't work that way.”
P: explained that there hadn't been anyone else, except for whenever they visited Kitana of course,
or Kitana visited them. She thought that her wishful thoughts to bear Zelda children were answered.
This had been a few weeks earlier.
Wishful thinking she says. Oh aye, uh-huh. Dude, seriously, you're a faecking idiot, now let's go!
Door. That way. Move.
Z: asked for detail – precisely when, where, how, and so forth.
Really? You're gonna do this? You're really gonna fucking stand here and swallow whatever shite
she fucking feeds you, huh? Really?!? Fine: fuck me.
P: the intermission of the three day festival.
Z: “Intermission. Do you mean the second day – the fertility day – of the three holy days of
Nayru?”
P: Thought for a moment and nodded, and explained that she'd been in their chapel...
Z: exits their room with Peach in hand, leaping around and screaming “I'm gone be a faether! …
or… something!” a huge grin beaming from her face as she started tossing fistfuls of her cigars at
everyone.
“Yokatta!” Ruru squealed in excitement, and burst into animated chatter with the Fridays.
Tails: “A Grumpy Crypt Kitteh, huh? Well, Mordenkainen's Adorable Binky won't cut it then – and
my Wand of Magic Red Dots needs to be recharged... I'm going to use my plus-three Frank's Crufty
Cheeseburger, blessed by Ceiling Cat!”
Sonic looked up from their game of 7r0115 and Flame-Warz, books and papers and polyhedral dice
strewn about, liberally interspersed with a variety of snacks and drinks – and one of the cats, a huge
Siberian-striped Savannah Coon named Mister Fluffykins, asleep on the corner – and pinched the
bridge of his nose in a long-suffering look.
“Yeah. Z? I dunno how ta tell ya this, but...”
=====
P conversation with chambermaid.

Maid: I'm sorry your Imperial Majesty, but there is no one in the entire palace who doesn't know
when you're... having intimate relations.
Peach sought out Zelda for the royal renovator and remodeling architect (and more tapestries, in the
meantime) – and this after all of the remodeling had finally been completed to install electricity,
scrynet-friendly intervision, and indoor plumbing.
Z Ach, lass, yer a hot mess, aren't ye?
P smiles winsomely: have I ever told you how much I love your reacquired accent, now that you've
been home awhile?
=====
One month later.
“Peach, Squishy-poos, did you get the picture I just sent you?” Zelda called from the next room,
wearing a wicked grin, a sheer negligee, and what amounted to a few pieces of string.
Peach stared at her pad, tilting her head sideways to get a better view of what was displayed on the
screen – a look of mixed lechery and aghast cringing shock, as the realization came to her.
“Yes! Me and every single one of your contacts!”
“What?! Damn technology – smartphones my ass!”
“...and what an ass, indeed...” Peach replied, getting up from the desk and wandering into the other
room with lust in her eye.
It's good to be the queen...
=====
One week later.
“What–?” Sonic began, but Zelda was already listening to something else. Feeling something else. A
presence – a very powerful presence.
When she looked to him, a silent conversation flashed between them. Eyes narrowed, he jerked his
chin to Tails, the pair bracing Peach as Zelda left the room, stalking the something.
She found that something in the next room. An ancient wombat wearing a simple cotton yùyī and
bamboo dǒulì, and clutching a wood staff covered in runes, several sutras dangling free at its tip. Gold
and silver on indigo silk, or artistic ink on bone white paper, they caught the eye without being jarring.
Aside from being clothed, he looked fairly normal, albeit somewhat tall for a wombat, but somehow he
just seemed to have wrinkles and a long wispy beard, just as he seemed to be blind, though he clearly
wasn't. Everything about him presented as if he were about to fall asleep, but he was clearly the
presence that they had sensed. She ran through multiple simulations instantly with no success; while
neither of them had made more than a few subconscious microscopic twitches, she could sense that she
had no chance whatsoever of defeating him in combat. Each of his motions was slow and deliberate,
yet utterly fluid and absolutely perfect in economy and utility. He blinked slowly and bowed a fraction
of an inch in acknowledgment.
His every movement was so slow as to be glacial. Is he a Sloth in Wombat's clothing?
She couldn't be sure, but she'd swear that his eyes twinkled just then.
Peach burst in, and Zelda interposed herself immediately.
“Shīfù Lǎorén! Nín hǎo ma!? Zuìjìn zěnme yàng, yéye?” Peach cried out, bouncing with excitement.
“Pīchi-sama, dai-ichi ōjo no Ōkami – magomusume-tan,” the corners of his eyes crinkling as he
replied calmly, “Hai, domo. Watashi wa genki desu. Ogenki desu ka?” his tone expressing clear
familiarity and warmth as he blinked very slowly and inclined his head toward her. Zelda imagined
that had he written it out, it would have been in a beautifully curled hiragana, thick and thin strokes
flowing and merging – she could almost hear it, aside from a tinge of katakana to Peach's name.
“Princess?” Zelda inquired, glancing backward with a raised eyebrow, her tone implying that she
was wondering just when Peach had intended to mention these language skills and precisely how she
knew this intruder.
“Ohh! Kare wa totemo kawaii desu!” Ruru exclaimed, hovering around him in circles. He smiled at
this.
Zelda could see how Peach would be drawn to him. He was cute and fuzzy – hell, he looked like a
giant Teddy bear in a bathrobe.
“I... don't...” Peach broke off for lack of words.
“Did, didn't, do again,” the Wombat supplied for her, his eyes on Peach, then returning to Zelda,
“Only a rare love indeed acts in so foolhardy a manner. This is good.”
“Zelda, everybody, please let me introduce to you Shīfù Lǎorén, an immortal and my oldest friend,”
Peach began, “Jiā yéye, permit me to introduce to you Empress Zelda, my wife, Ruru, on your shoulder
playing with your ear, and Sonic and Tails, my family – and our daughter, soon,” Peach said, laying her
hand gently across her belly with a smile. At just over eight weeks pregnant, it was a bit too early yet
for her baby bump to show much, but she was still thrilled and fiercely proud.
Shīfù Lǎorén tilted his head slightly to each in turn, resting slightly longer and more paternally when
his gaze came to Peach's pregnant belly.
Sonic glanced at Tails, “An Immortal Wombat, huh? Wait'l Kitana gets a load o' this one.”
“Pīchi-sama, your chi has grown. This is also good. Now, cast yourself outward,” he said without
further preamble, bobbing his head vaguely upward.
“I can't,” she replied, “not anymore, I mean. Not now, not like this.”
“Look through me,” he instructed.
Legions dying, fire and destruction, a sweeping darkness swallowing the lands, insane perversions
of mechanism and nature, myriad possibilities leading to the same conclusion, an octahedral tower of
silver and obsidian and a shining brass cube at the center of it all. Behind it marched a beautiful
woman, a terrible woman, a halo of spikes surrounding her head, magenta-lavender skin clashing
painfully with turquoise hair.
Peach's face became ashen.
“The box is here?” she asked, already knowing the truth of it.
Again, Shīfù Lǎorén tilted his head slightly.

Sonic took this as a cue. “So, this box. Maybe not such a good thing, huh?”
Peach could only stare in horror. “A Cenobite plague. Cenobites are... demonic things. Neither good
nor evil, they serve only the box. Daemon hunts those who seek the box. The Lament Configuration.
It's a three dimensional sliding puzzle box, the worst of many; one configuration brings eternal
paradise, all others...” she shook her head.
“Daemon is... She's a fanatic,” Peach continued, picking her words as if she were walking through a
minefield, “Like Shīfù Lǎorén and me, or Zelda, she's a Power. Where we seek not to interfere, she
uses all within her grasp to purge the worlds of certain artifacts. The Lament Configuration is one of
those artifacts.”
/// ~~~ ///
~ Fin, et exeunt omnes ~
For the continuing adventures of Zelda and company, please see “Book 2, I am Legion”.
. .
IF THE PASSAGES ABOUT ZELDA'S RELATIONSHIP WITH PÉRDIDA FEEL FAMILIAR TO

YOU, THEN SEEK HELP IMMEDIATELY: TALK TO SOMEONE SAFE WHO'S NOT PART OF
YOUR CIRCLE, GO ONLINE ANONYMOUSLY AT A CAFÉ AND READ ABOUT NPD
(NARCISSISTIC PERSONALITY DISORDER), JOIN A FACEBOOK NPD-GROUP USING A
FAKE PROFILE (STILL TRY TO FIND ONE WITH A PUBLICALLY-INVISIBLE GROUP
MEMBERSHIP, THEN GOOGLE INCOGNITO HOW TO HIDE A GROUP FROM YOUR
PROFILE), AND LEARN COMPUTER SECURITY.
Research the terms “gray rock”, “gaslighting”, “hoover”, “flying monkey”, “triangulate”, “supply”.
. .
GET TO SAFETY, OR HELP WHOMEVER YOU KNOW IN THAT SITUATION TO GET

TO SAFETY. HAVE A PLAN TO ESCAPE SAFELY.
. .
Be good. Stay safe. Namaste.

Prequel sneak preview: Zelda Invictus

Once upon a time there lived a beautiful princess in a beautiful palatial castle. Her family was
wonderful and loved her very much. The lands all around were filled with wondrous things. She filled
her time with reading and any number of little projects. For all of this though, she had still wished for
one thing more in her life.
Be careful of what you wish for...
Zelda was rushing. She didn't want to be late. She couldn't be late again. Not that being early was
any better, since that could look as if she were trying to rush Pérdida.
Pérdida's voice rang out through the rooms, “Come on! Hurry up, let's go. You're making me late!”
Zelda cringed internally, feeling even worse now for having wasted the time and attention to think
about it, when instead she could have now been that fraction of a second closer to done.
“Move it. What the fuck always takes you so long?”
=====
Zelda wandered. The faces of strangers changing before her eyes to that of Pérdida. She'd awaken still
hearing or smelling her, reaching over to cuddle. Pérdida was never there though, and so she'd shiver
alone, staring into the night, into the darkness, wishing to change what had already come about, what
no longer was, craving oblivion, the release of death or insanity. Neither ever came for her, and so she
kept on for miles. For months.
Memories played themselves out unbidden, over and over. They'd crop up for no reason,
overlapping and mingling. One would unreel and the next simply occurred seamlessly as she watched,
even though without transition, more real, more present than her surrounds. Other times, they sprang
on her, triggered by the most innocuous events.
She could still hear the laughter, feel the warm presence in the good parts. Those were no more
welcome than the pain, as they served only to torment her with what was no longer within her grasp,
what had never in fact been the case to begin with.
She was peripherally aware of what happened around her, but it was all distant, unrelated to her.
She lived in these memories even as her body occupied the world beyond.
Maybe something happened that forced Pérdida to spurn her, or she'd been coerced. Pérdida was
just testing her, or this was all just a nightmare, or she was dead and this was Hell... She clung to that
thought over and over, but her second or third thoughts knew better. She wasn't talking to them though.
They offered cold facts and probabilities. No solace there.
Until she comes

again,
the sun goes out and night comes in,
the time goes 'round and day grows dim,
until she comes
again;
and with her step I move my feet,

and with her hand I feel my skin,
and with her need I find I'm saved,
and with her dreams I'm
laid;
I
can't be saved
from my wounds...
O ~~~ O
Prequel sneak preview: Sonic's Redemption

Spinning.
Land, roll, scan.
Nothin'.
Up and moving, scanning, down.
Nothin' – nada!
Creep to better cover, away from the insertion point.
Wait.
He was in an open courtyard ringed with tropical plants. Eerie silence.
The ground was covered by a comfortably springy low growth, seemingly untended but not growing
in disarray.
Warm; air's thicker, less oxygen than Möbius. Gravity's higher. Fuckin' hell, is it ever higher. Sky's
distinctly paler; well, that fits with the oxygen, anyway. Sun's a lot richer yellow, bit more orange to it.
Nothing moved within his view from the foliage.
Sonic waited an hour before he was satisfied that there were no immediate threats, then waited a
second hour.
The courtyard was run down. The whole place was a ruin, in fact.
Best guess, empty fer five or six hunnert years.
It was spacious, and there were some underground storage areas that could be useful. There was a
graveyard in the bailey, the stones bearing unusual epitaphs: “He's dead, Jim”, “Here lies Louise, a
thief shouldn't sneeze”, “Here lies poor Mel, he cast the wrong spell”, and a dozen more of the same.
There was a well near the gate to the north, still functional – though it had the unnerving quality of
watching him, its face reacting to his actions, giving him the distinct impression that it didn't trust him
one bit and would gladly welcome several more centuries of solitude; he interpreted this as an indicator
of his mind having been rattled in transit. From the towers he could make out a golden ziggurat far to
the northeast and a valley spread out all across the northern and western area. The castle itself was
located atop a butte adjacent to a bluff, overlooking a cove to the southwest that spread partly to the
east.
The cove was what gave the most disturbing view.
He couldn't be certain of the distance, but all the way to the horizon, stretching in either direction,
there was nothing but lava. Long shallow waves undulated slowly, the distant crackling resolving itself
from the undifferentiated subliminal background hiss that he'd been hearing. Huge crocodiles basked
on the cove's beach, along with several visible in the lava nearby. No; files and memories spun in his
mind: phobosuchus, maybe.
'least now I know why I been sweatin' my balls off.
What the fuck is this place? If I'm dead, this sure ain't like any afterlife I ever heard of...
O ~~~ O
Sequel sneak preview: I am Legion

Command tent, Eagle of the Ninth. Dame Daemon's adjutants, Cassius and Bella, stand to either side
of her.
The Felinthrope stood there gazing at the table. High Marshal Marcus Aurelius's gaunt frame
looked underfed as he hunched his shoulders, belying the danger ever lurking beneath the surface even
with the ragged scar running down the left side of his face.
“I suppose that killing them all is out of the question, as usual?”
Daemon smiled beatifically, “Mas oui, bien sûr non! To do so would be rude. Allors: we go in, we
find the box. Je comprends pas this obsession of yours always with killing them all.”
O ~~~ O
Afterword
A good story writes itself, and this one was a breeze (if you're reading this before the book is complete,
then please understand that I mean that it's been a breeze so far, when I'm not indulging my tendency to
goof off rather than write). Well, mostly. It was more like chronicling events than a creative exercise.
There were quite a few times when I had intended to write one thing, but the characters chose another
thing entirely, as it were. This didn't change the ease of writing, but it did make for a few surprises.
The original concept was a Xena parody (“Twilight Zelda, warrior princess”) in a throwaway line
for an RPG setting (and in turn, even the Xena idea had begun from the question of introducing video
game characters [e.g.: our main characters here] to that game-setting as electronic lifeforms in
alternative physics world-ponds). It evolved into a pseudo-historical (ecchi / shōjo ai) romance. Added
to that was the long-standing urge to see characters carry their skills and items onward from one game
to the next (not a problem with tabletop dice-RPGs, but something that you don't really see happen in
video games such as Zelda, Sonic, or Mario Bro.s), and to place them into wholly alien game settings
(a do-able nuisance in tabletops, but something that you used never to see in video games [the Wii
Universe being a relatively recent development]). Eventually it just needed to be written.
Writing it dug deep at times. The good parts were wonderful, the bad parts hell. I suppose that a
psychology major might have a field day with it, though how much they'd guess right or wrong is an
open question.
It did occur to me that a title that abbreviates to “StD” might not be the most appropriate for a
romance novel, but then I figured that it carried a certain humor to it as well. Besides, the title is
already a play on words – aside from the obvious “Seize the Deity” vs. “Seize the day”, playing on
Zelda seizing Peach (an incarnated Ōkami) from a keep, there's the fact that Peach seeks to seize
Zelda's heart (as an incarnation of a Goddess), and that the good guys are trying to prevent the bad
guy's planned apotheosis (whether by physical capture or by ruination of his machinations), making for
four Deity-seizings in all. It works a little less well as “Carpe Deum/Deam”, since that could
look/sound like a mere typo/mispronouncing of “Carpe Diem” (though luckily, at least it would remain
grammatically correct, but on the downside it would lose some of the punning by being masculine-only
Deum or feminine-only Deam, rather than masculine/feminine Diem). In a way, the story also speaks
to the intimacy of a loving relationship as holding a spirit of divinity unto itself.
There are so many books and shows that played a part in influencing the flow and feel of this story.
Sherrilyn Kenyon's “Dark Hunter” series was a huge inspiration, and really what led me to write this in
the end. Sharon Shinn's “Wrapt in crystal” had a somewhat profound impact on me, and I can but hope
that some of it is reflected in Peach. Bruce Lee's “Silent flute” [“Circle of iron”] initially molded some
of Zelda's views and actions; she's no zen master, being too tied to the world as her eyes see it, but
perhaps she's on the road to it, like the movie's protagonist Cord. Leigh and David Eddings'
“Belgariad” forms the underpinning of the characters' travels across the continents, and a model for
showing how a serious story can yet hold repartee between them without detracting from the whole.
Robert Anton Wilson's “Illuminatus!” series (really can't call those only a trilogy) also played some part
in the larger background cosmography. There are others, to be sure, but these are likely the bulk of it.
Thank you for having joined me in this journey.
All of this needed a map, and even some crappy excuse made with a few circles and squares might
have been better than nothing. I tried a few options and ended up fairly satisfied with AutoREALM
(once I ran through a quick and simple tutorial, anyway [though it turns out to be unable to render a
macron, so “Īsuton” is misspelled as “Isuton”]).
As explored in the narrative, DK Country is to the south (sunken Kremlantis lurking in the relative
shallows nearby), the Hyrule continents and islands are to the west, the Mushroom Kingdom lies to the
just west of center (Dinosaur Island just a couple hundred miles offshore), with Sarasaland being
roughly central to the main continent, and the Koopa Kingdom to the east. The Golden Plains of Rygar
(riddled with Ghosts and Goblins, Joust ostrdactyls, Trogdor, and some Kaijin, kaijū, and daikaijū; this
is the location of the dungeon keeps of “Diablo”, “Dragon's Lair”, and “Gauntlet”) dominate the north
and northeast, with a lot of flavor from Robert E. Howard's swords-and-sorcery awesomeness Conan
the barbarian, though made somewhat organized in places by the Wamphyri Aeries, Wolfen Nations,
Badder Country, and the Dwarven Undercold. Duhan (from Atlus' “Wizardry: Tale of the Forsaken
Land”) lies to the northwest, lost to a permanent fog during the Sheikah Wars. There's also the long
skinny continent of Arrakis along the southern seas, but we never get closer to that than some of the
islands with Princess Daisy and Tetra, and a quick lunch and ship-supplying at the northeasternmost tip.
The greater cosmography alluded to by Princess Kitana, and later by Peach and Lǎorén, is a nihilistic
meta-setting called “Icewall” that I conceived for role playing games. It's not an RPG system in itself,
just a different arrangement of the way that the worlds in the RPGs might relate to one another.
Icewall is an infinite plane of ice, full of “world-ponds” rather than spheroidal planets, most with a
small star (or stars) of their own nearby to warm the area, and most being run by narcissistic,
psychopathic, and sociopathic despots (some openly so, some in shadow governments; they would fit
in just fine in the aristocracy of “Jupiter Ascending”) – and a disturbing percentage of them lie in ruins,
having been destroyed utterly through diverse means. Some of it harks back to the Gnostic Oyarsa
[Archon] of C. S. Lewis's “Silent planet” space trilogy.
This infinite plane of ice in itself wasn't my own idea, but it evolved into a meta-setting when I
asked myself what sociological results might come about if we turned on the news tomorrow and found
that we'd been lied to for the longest time – that the world were indeed flat and held within an ice wall
and perhaps a dome, and a bunch of conspiracy theories were suddenly shown to be rock-solid facts –
and what that might imply about the world's history as viewed from this new perspective.
How would people react to such news? I don't know, but I suspect that it would be a mix of apathy
and violence – starting with disbelief and complete denial, moving on to unrest and chaos, and ending
in political upheaval, purges, and all out war worldwide.
The next obvious question was what might lie beyond such an ice wall – just empty space/air, or
more ice as far as you go, maybe a much larger world beyond a prison-wall, or other “world-ponds”?
This then begged the question of human nature and how other such worlds might behave and interact.
From a purely mechanical perspective, it's really just a resurfaced version of countries and oceans, or
planets and spaceships: people live in various places, and there's a bunch of something between them
(oceans, space, ice) – but it allows game characters to move from world to world with much lower
travel requirements than space technology or stargates or god-like magics. Sure, it's -70°F, and there
are almost no floræ or faunæ between the world-ponds, and they'd almost certainly die in the attempt
even if they had early 21c tech. or its equivalent, but it could be done – even at stone-age tech. levels,
in principle.
Chronology. That's still in the works – it's also where I skate thin ice over the Time Cube law. Just try
to remember that it's a setting for RPGs and story-telling.
You've learned when this story is set relative to Icewall-Earth (c2258 CE/AD) and the Light World's
Sheikah Wars calendar (c6559-6561 PB). You might wish to open the Traveller and 3e/4e GURPS
Tech Levels page for general reference, though the following doesn't get into grainy-enough details to
need it much (and good luck to you, if you're considering using any edition of D&D's magic-
comparisons of worlds, as you might find in the old Manual of the Planes, such as pp. 117-118 in the
1e MotP, or 200-220 of 3e).

What you don't know is when all of this takes place relative to the local Icewall neighborhood's
historical backdrop. There's a lot more going on behind the scenes than any of the characters know
about, except arguably the Goddesses and Ōkami and such. The eras preceding the present went
through boom-and-bust cycles of ancient lost knowledge. Their arts and technological applications
came from vast experience with science, magic, and zooi (a broad term of my own, encompassing
psionics, chi, mutation, PPE, ISP, Bio-E, etc.). Each era reached a peak and collapsed catastrophically,
and each of these peaks was far less majestic than its predecessors. Picture a sawtooth wave with a
mean average descending slope to it: a slow upward crawl of 1 unit, then sharp drop of 2 units, over
and over – pretty much what you'd get if you took an otherwise-smooth upward slope, took vertical
slices of it, and rearranged them in reverse order – it's not a sine wave of discovery and self-
destruction, but rather the sudden discontinuity of prior knowledge no longer being present. A
nanoecology swarms through the air from advanced civilizations marching back in time.
The current era is the Dark Age. The Encyclopædia1 Cryonica was written some time in the current
era, perhaps 5000 BCE/BC, and hence is the least useful and most modern. As a species, we're
someplace around a high-level Type 0 through low-level Type I Kardashёv (depending upon just how
you scale it and what your data sources are); being as culturally fractionated as we are, our individual
civilizations vary from effectively Type |∅null⟩ through a mid-high Type 0. It was some time in this era
that the Greys (extremely high sciences of very narrow focus) first appeared in Miðgårðr (with a
millennia-long social experiment in mind), bringing with them the moon and wresting Miðgårðr from
the control of the Reptilians (whose only real goal is malign hedonistic self-indulgence) whom they
permitted to remain as long as they didn't unmask reality or annihilate the world-pond. Asgard (high
levels of magic and science) eventually took its place far above Miðgårðr, leaving Vanaheim (very high
level of psionics) behind, deep within The Ice.
Preceding this was the Bronze Age (c8500 BCE/BC – NLT ~5000 BCE/BC), which ended with
Ragnarök, the uprising of the Æsir against their Jötnar overlords and genetic creators, taking advantage
of a simultaneous uprising in the power and production worlds of Svartalfheim and Nidavellir (now in
a protracted cold war). There was no central hierarchy, just world-pond level factions of about high-
level Type I through low-level Type II Kardashёv (pretty damned powerful destructive capabilities,
from our perspective). This is when the Anunnaki chose to infiltrate Miðgårðr surreptitiously, and the
Human-Jötnar Nephilim began appearing. By this time, the Jötnar had already felled all of the “real
trees” (mountain-sized behemoths) on Earth and throughout most of Miðgårðr (there are no trees or
forests on Icewall-Earth, regardless of what you and I would call them). Worlds with natures and
power levels much like that of Seven Deadly Sins are typical of this time period.
The encyclopædia in Edenia's possession is older than that, hence more advanced. They have an
Encyclopædia Krustallosica. That was put together during the Silver Age, when ley lines were used for
communication, transportation, and industry on an enormous scale, orders of magnitude beyond current
levels (basically a mid-level Type II Kardashёv). The creation of worlds like Exalted, Fairy Tail, and
One Piece would have been reasonable approximations of this time period. All of that ended with the
Atlantean-Lemurian and Mahābhārata2 Wars c8500 BCE/BC, when the land bridge (still verdant in
contrast to the glaciated lands all around) holding Miðgårðr [no, not Bifrost] became iced miles deep
by a weapon of vast power (picture doing that instantly, and spanning an area of >80,000 miles across
and >175,000 miles in length), Jötunheimr dropped ~35 miles into the newly formed Ginnungagap (and
was subsequently buried within acuity-damping fields3, and banded by thousands of miles of
radioactive salts4 and phobia-induction generators), Múspelheim was thrown into eternal volcanism (so
much so that its lands are ice free, and a superocean occupies its southwestern region, with many
superhero world-islands floating across its surface), Niflheim destroyed itself in urban waste and civil
1 Encyclopædiae: These ancient nodes are capable of interfacing with diverse computational media. In essence, the Dark Age nodes
(and the Bronze Age nodes of the previous generation) are capable of storing and manipulating Aleph Null data by an application of
the Banach-Tarski paradox to quantum properties, hence size isn't relevant (aside from handling purposes).
The Silver Age nodes are capable of Aleph One data, with an experimental fork of Beth One data nodes (no benefits accrue from
this, beyond having achieved said milestone), in each case the O.S. could attain self-awareness, in which case it was mandated to place
itself within a wholly isolated V.R. partition (without resource loss, by the grace of transfinite computational space), with an unaware
copy left mounted in its stead (this process could occur repeatedly with no loss).
All are essentially Kryptonian crystals.
2 Mahābhārata: in the great war between the Devas and the Atlanteans, Lemuria was a disinclined third-party. If you're unfamiliar
with any of these, then picture the devastation-potential of astra.
3 Mental damper: while this idea has probably been used by many, I stole it from <*ahem*> was inspired by Poul Anderson's “Brain
Wave” (an excellent read, written in sci-fi's silver age, but reflecting a more polished writing style than typical to pulp sci-fi [I love
pulp's concepts and explorations, it's just not usually very well-written material]).
4 Salts: these are meant to be in keeping with Auðhumla's salty-rime.
war (and to this day remains a lethal threat to all, and that's before considering the multiple breeds of
zombies infesting it), and the Narnia-like Eden (not Edenia: different place) lost its first dome. The Ice
is devoid of light and practically barren, with rift storms and chaos incursion warps to contend with.
Before that was the Golden Age (<c8500 BCE/BC). This is the height of, and the earliest era in,
recorded civilization, an empire that spanned a couple of hundred million miles in every direction, with
technologies to change the laws of physics within areas of at least world-pond scale (basically a low-
level Type III Kardashёv). The Ringworld that now hovers above and around the local neighborhood
like a storm wall was built then. How few Encyclopædia Trantorica remain from that period is
unknown, though they do exist. This era saw the last of the universally fertile lands, ending with a war
of succession, and the lands becoming iced overall (it was then that the sky was darkened permanently,
hence requiring local stars and such) in an effort to prevent a great many unleashed weapons' effects
spreading unhindered. The Ice that now covers everything isolated all of the areas now comprising the
world-ponds, separating Oerth and the crystal spheres (once world-sized theme vacation parks) from
Cursed Earth from Kandar from R'lyeh (an experiment that escaped control) and so forth. It also
damps all but the very basic physics and magics, though generally having little effect on zooi.
Before that (<<c8500 BCE/BC), the records of its existence now lost to time, was the Platinum Age.
People were very much the mythically god-like beings in powers and skills that one might imagine.
This was a mid- to high-level Type III, bordering on Type IV Kardashёv. This is the time of the
entropy engines5, the Thoan worlds, and the creation of the Trek-Wars Galactic Disc pond (it's bigger
on the inside). The pond-tree-cancer bubble6 began then, where there had once been a vast Gaian-
industrial sprawl, now fallen to wrack and ruin. Encyclopædia Psionica does (singular and ætheric)
exist from that time, though very few even postulate such a thing at all.
Undreamt of now is the period before all of this (<<<c8500 BCE/BC), remembered by only the
Ljósálfar. The Diamond Era, with the Encyclopædia Akashica (it could still be accessed, assuming that
anyone even knew [or stumbled across the fact] that it exists woven as the fabric of existence). They
were low-level Type V on the Kardashёv. This is the origin of Yggdrasil 7, though nobody knows that.
This is when the Qhal once shall have spread the pond-tree seeds far and wide in time, and it wasn't
long after that that they shall have no longer toyed with time in the first place (I'd explain the mutilated
tensing there, but... spoilers!).
Consider this, though: if the Kardashёv scale in the real world were extensible in the fashion
outlined for Icewall, then it would be expanded to include higher and lower degrees of power
availability / consumption / efficiency, scientific knowledge, and applied technology. What does that
say of the same dynamic extended laterally to K-levels of creative arts, biological [etc.] life forms'
natural and/or engineered capabilities (regardless of gene-tech, cyber, etc. differences), information
processing (sapient problem solving, sentient awareness / introspection / metacognition, sophont other-
awareness / empathy / etc., any sort of trans-level collective – not to mention FLOPS, recall speed and
detail, comprehension, interpolation and extrapolation, etc.), and sensory awareness and
mobility/manipulation (not the same, but telepresence might blur the distinction) – singularity, anyone?
5 Entropy engines: A dark and empty region millions of miles across now exists there, perhaps 10 million miles NNE of Miðgårðr, far
colder than the -70°F equilibrium of The Ice (I think that I set it to -170° F).
6 World-trees: a riotous mess of mountain-sized seeds that sprout Pangaῖan world-trees, that in turn eventually explode to release their
seeds, then become husks that mature/decay into world-ponds. Pond trees were developed as a means to create world-ponds with ease
and artistically, though they weren't “ponds” as yet, since The Ice hadn't yet occurred; at that time, they were merely a potent and
mostly ecologically sound means to an end.
7 Yggdrasil: not a world-supporting ash tree, but an artificially constructed tower of about 250,000 miles diameter, that reaches into the
sky to an unknown height (unknown to even the Æsir and Greys). Just as vimāna and such operate by becoming less “real”, thus
removing themselves from the physical principles guiding normal operations, Yggdrasil is the one object in existence that's more
“real” than reality (this is expanded on in the technical appendix of “Icewall”).
Will we explore the events that were foreshadowed in the epilogue, and see Pīchi Ōkami's
mahō/majokko powers develop? (I can see her exploring majutsu, but I dunno about her truly walking
the path of madō.) How about prequel material of Zelda's life, and presumably similar material on
Sonic and Tails (frankly, Ruru stands out to me as a particularly enigmatic figure)? I didn't know either
way when I wrote the main body of this Afterword (it had begun to need to be written long before I'd
have expected to write one). I didn't feel an urge to do so, but I couldn't say that it wouldn't happen.
Unfortunately, I had a sinking feeling that I'd have to write at least Zelda's and Sonic's prequels – I
already knew the basic story arcs for each, and had some of Sonic's story-details and a ton of Zelda's. I
had thought then that of we were to get to see what happens with Daemon, then I'd like to also see them
explore something like a deep dungeon crawl – maybe a mix of the dungeon crawls found in “Made in
Abyss” (manga / anime), “DanMachi” (manga x 3 / anime), and “Little Witch Academia” (manga /
anime), and some of the elements of “Re:Zero” (manga / anime) and Gate/JSDF (manga / anime)
though the idea of such a mix sounded a little artificial to me (still does), not to mention unlikely to
relate to The Lament Configuration unless they happen to visit The Labyrinth (and even now, they just
might have to do exactly that, in order to settle accounts). Personally, I'd love to see the forest from C.
S. Friedman's Coldfire trilogy and P. J. Farmer's Dungeon have some effect there, too. However, it
turned out that I ended up driven to write them while this book was still perhaps 30% through its Alpha
version (the sequel and both prequels came to the fore due to the the prompting of a writing exercise
that had brought about some sidequel material, after which the plot-bunnies multiplied).
...and for the record: I came up with my ZxP idea before I knew anything about “Super Smash Bro.s”
or of anyone else 'shipping ZxP – so there! (Mind you, I'm not claiming that I'm the only one, or even
the first one, to 'ship them or to at least put them into the same universe [and they each have in-game
allusions to the other, so I'm not certain that there wasn't already some crossover in the canon], just that
I didn't get it from anyone else: I had an idea, mucked with it a bit, and stumbled onto others'
preexisting ideas of the same.)
I should mention though that I suspect that my having finally put this whole thing together was at
least partly inspired by KorrAsami fan-art (yes, Korra x Asami is officially quoted as canon, but it isn't
explicitly so within the show's depicted contents, so there's quite a bit of fan-art that expands on the
theme). The “One month later” interlude I lifted from a series of sketches by SandraLVV on
DeviantArt. It was perfect, and I had to include it, and hence obviously give her credit for it – now I
just need (I think?) to seek her permission.
Those of you who are familiar with the characters undoubtedly noticed some changes to their
personalities, physical appearances, and background histories. I can only hope that these artistic
liberties didn't detract too greatly from the story. At least with Zelda's appearance I think that I can beg
some indulgence, given that she's lived many lives with different looks (though whether any given one
of the Zeldas in her family line happens to be a reincarnation is another matter entirely). Peach, she's
always been extremely consistent in her look, so my adding pounds and inches 8 to her is a shameless
liberty on my part (though I don't think that I actually changed her inner being very much at all, at least
not until I introduced her geek-streak).
None of them are really what I'd call “sane”. I'm not qualified to judge professionally, but from my
layman's perspective: Zelda suffers severe C-PTSD, Peach is badly emotionally codependent (luckily
8 Peach: I don't have anything specific in mind for her, but I'd say probably about a women's US size 14-18.
for her, Zelda's not NPD) and somewhat OCD, and Sonic seems to me to be broken somewhere on the
old Axis II system (setting aside the question of the deprecated DSM III/IV Axis II Cluster B vs. ICD,
I'm guessing some degree of psychopathy – that is: <30/25 on the Hare PCL-R 9, and possessed of hot
empathy, but able to detach when needed, and showing some tendency towards callousness and
remorselessness).
I'm not sure about Tails or Ruru. Tails might be HFA/AS, and possibly asexual in orientation (I
actually don't know, and I'm the one writing him; part of the problem there is that he's also really young
in some ways, and simply might not be there yet, or he could be demisexual/demiromantic and just not
have “clicked” with anyone [though there's a little expansion to the contrary on this in the sequel] – I'm
also beginning to suspect that Möbius' destruction affected him somewhat deeply, beyond what you'd
already expect from the loss of his entire world and the deaths of everyone on it). Ruru seems...
complicated. NOTE: due to later developments (SPOILERS: “I am Legion”), although I still can't say
that Tails is/isn't ace, there's a certain connection that comes up with definite relationship-ness and
romantic aspects; these don't mean that sex ever does/doesn't comes about, just that there's definitely
more than a just-friends atmosphere to it.
You might have noticed that aside from Zelda asking Sonic about Peach's virginity and Peach
seeking to learn things from everyone, not one of them has really sought others' assistance. They act in
concert, but they aren't cohesive, they're just a group of individuals.
They're all more or less functional, and don't suffer delusions or anything, but that alone doesn't
make them sane to me. Shrinks with whom I've talked about sanity don't really consider any of this to
be “crazy” or “nuts” or anything (though they don't use those terms at all), but that still doesn't
convince me of a lack of insanity and/or the presence of sanity.
On the other hand, I do think that Peach and Zelda have a good, healthy relationship. They're each
comfortable with who they are and whom they're with, and the same applies to Sonic and the Fridays.
Similarly, both Tails and Ruru are comfortable with not being with anyone else, and Daisy is fine being
with whomever catches her eye. There are a couple of webcomics that illustrate these same principles:
Danielle Corsetto's “Girls with slingshots” and Jeph Jacques' “Questionable content” (Q.C.'s artwork
improves over time – and man, it would totally rock if the party ever somehow got to visit Coffee of
Doom, but I just can't see that happening); I can't explain how they apply to relationships without major
spoilers, but they're both really good reads.
Similarly, there's an overall group dynamic that I was trying to communicate – something like what
you see in “Buffy the Vampire Slayer” and “Charmed”; whether I succeeded or not is open to debate,
but it's certainly meant to be there. Individually, they're all self-validating (Peach being a late bloomer,
admittedly), learn from their failures and misfortunes, watch others' behaviors, are self-sufficient and
independent, show extreme resilience and self-worth (yes, Peach again, I know, and Zelda's pretty
damned shaky in this respect), and they know and show exactly where their boundaries lie.
Belatedly, it also occurs to me that whereas it began as a lark, and turned into a romance novel, it's
also evolved to take on enough aspects of slice-of-life and shōjo that at this point I might as well be
sketching a manga or scripting it as anime.
That brings me to one aspect of Zelda's and Peach's relationship that I'm not exactly worried about,
9 PCL-R re. Sonic: pathological lying, glib and superficial charm, grandiose sense of self, need for stimulation, cunning and
manipulative, lack of remorse or guilt, shallow emotional response, callousness and lack of empathy, parasitic lifestyle, poor
behavioral controls, sexual promiscuity, early behavior problems, lack of realistic long-term goals, impulsivity, irresponsibility, failure
to accept responsibility, many short-term marital relationships, juvenile delinquency, revocation of conditional release, criminal
versatility.
Some of these can't apply to him (juvenile delinquency, for example), and some are situational (lacks goals in general) or open to
interpretation (his criminal skill set is genetically programmed into him). If we assume a simple and easy scoring of 0, 1, & 2, he's
~7(±2?); a little over an NT average of ~3-6, that's about it. Whatever else might apply, he's simply not a psychopath.
but also don't wish to have misinterpreted: Zelda's not “the guy” of the two. She's certainly picked up a
bunch of roles in life that are generally mannish in modern society's views, but she's just herself. It'd
fine if she were butch or bull, but it simply happens that she isn't (well, O.K., so maybe she qualifies as
soft butch [unless you count her Tetra persona as Light World's cultural analog of stud, but even then:
Tetra is only a projected persona]); it'd be equally fine if she were all dainty and girly, but again, it
simply happens that she isn't (this applies to any non-binary stuff too: she simply is who she is – just
like everyone else in life). Some of her ways and views could be considered to be masculine, but they
just stem from her masculine-associated approach of cutting to the heart of a matter, or dealing with a
situation directly (“manly men” have feelings too, so I'm not sure if I can point to her dealing softly
with emotional situations as being much of an argument for her feminine side). If you were to read
“Zelda Invictus” (this series' first prequel of two), then you'd find that she'd been very girly frou-frou in
the beginning. Some bad shit happened and she spent most of a year wandering and on the run, and
then found safety on an island where the Fridays, Sonic, Ruru, and Tails were dwelling. Right now, I'm
still in the middle of writing that, so I don't know how much change we'll see in her over the course of
“Sonic's Redemption” (the second prequel, in which we first meet most of the other characters, but
focus on Zelda throughout the third act), but even if we don't, I hope that you can interpolate from there
to the beginning of “Seize the Deity” that life happened (life happens to us all), and everyone changed
gradually over the years between – to include changes that stemmed from Zelda finding a need to learn
more ways of dealing with the world as it came. Whether her choices were wise or not, they came
from the options presented and all of her experiences leading up to each of them. These things form
our personalities to some extent, and in this case her personality found that being a hard-ass (much like
Xena) was better suited to her needs – not exactly pure choice, not really innate wiring (unless you
assume that such choices can occur only when one's psychology permits them), and not precisely
forced by life. If none of this makes any sense to you, I dunno... maybe move to a big city (i.e.:
population in the tens of millions, not a paltry couple hundred thousand) for a few years, or watch “The
L word”? (Not sure about that last suggestion – there's a lot of cheating in it, but... meh, that happens in
life, regardless of who's involved, so... yeah.)
Despite all of the preceding paragraph though, I must admit that there is some degree of a butch-
protégé aspect to their relationship early on – not precisely in their sexual dynamic, so much as things
like the bookstore or the pirates-vs.-marines fight. Zelda takes very much the aggressive defender role,
and Peach a somewhat more defended and safe role (though clearly capable in her own right in the
latter example), but guess what: she's just fighting [or at least guarding against] people who are fighting
them, she's not fighting “men” or “women”, just /people/ (and such fighting could as well take a less
physical form, rather than the clearly physical that stands out here). This same dynamic can occur (or
not) in any relationship though, regardless of who's what in any other way.
One thing that I'm left wondering about just how one might quantify Zelda's fighting skills (for those
not already familiar with Zelda, I should clarify that canon has had her assume the alias of Sheik with
ninja skills and an incarnation as Tetra the pirate). It's not terribly important, granted, but still I wonder.
This version of her, as I conceive it, is meant to capture some of C. J. Cherryh's Morgaine (“The
Morgaine cycle” [particularly as we see her in “Exile's gate”]) and a fair chunk of Mary Gentle's Ash of
Carthage (“Chronicles of Ash”), with a dash (the skin being purely coincidental) of Miura Kentarō's
Casca (“Berserk” manga / anime) – rather similar to the skin color of Doppel-chan in MonMusu or [the
real] Princess Allura from Voltron, for that matter. Kind of like Erza Scarlet (Hiro Mashima's manga /
anime “Fairy Tail”), though a little more reserved.
Joseph Campbell outlines the hero's journey in “The hero with a thousand faces”, Jung goes into
archetypes, modern references talk about tropes (individuals, teams as a whole, and team member
dynamics). All of these things resonate for me, and probably for all of us, though not necessarily
identically. The further that this story developed, the less sure I've become that Zelda's truly the
protagonist. Peach saved her, and arguably more so than she saved Peach. Hell, they all save one
another, and I don't mean simply pulling one another's asses out of the fire; that, yes, but more
important: spiritually (if that's not already clear enough herein, then read the prequels to see it laid bare
more bluntly). I think that Sonic noticed this before I became aware of it myself.
Originally, I had thought that Zelda would have access to all of her various powers from the game
series, as would Peach. The story ended up being much lower-powered than the Marioverse, and Zelda
doesn't use her magic much at all (all that we've seen so far is some use of singing at the waterfall Fairy
Fountain, her illusion glamours, a simple cigar-lighting use of Prestidigitation, and her channeling of
some energy to run a portal – though I expect some fireworks once they really get into the Tor Diablo
region). This makes me wonder how much of canon material actually applies to them here (i.e.: are
they there and simply completely disused, or do the characters just not have some of their canon
powers?).
Personally, I'd like to see her display some facility in multiple magics – notably those of Lyndon
Hardy's “Master of the five magics” 4-book trilogy – but I just don't see it happening. Peach probably,
Tails indubitably, but only if they reach a world-pond where these apply (they might work here, but
even if so, I don't get the feeling that anyone's discovered this fact beyond the barest bits). I wonder if
she'd be averse to a lightsaber...
Taking something from several of Zelda's incarnations throughout the game series, this one is both a
ninja and a pirate, and I don't know how well their techniques would actually stack. The sword fight in
the woods though, just before the mountain village, illustrates some level of her ability.
Consider this: however you might count the moves involved, and whether in real world terms or any
given gaming system, it took her perhaps three heartbeats' span to take two steps, strike twice
simultaneously, strike twice simultaneously again, pull the target's own sword, spin around, reverse her
grip, upswing, change her grip, stab the falchion halfway into the guy's chest, and break his knee.
About ten or eleven separate actions in less than a second, maybe two. I'm tempted to translate her into
a fully fleshed out character in THAC0 or d20 (each having a mêlée round of 6 seconds: 3x-6x the time
demonstrated here) or Palladium standards (15-second mêlée rounds: 7.5x-15x), but I fear that to do so
might simply cheapen it somehow (not to mention that the resulting APM would be far beyond what I
picture for her, so I'm going to let the whole thing slide as an artistic rendition of a game-mechanic that
would actually have lasted longer in-game). Let's just say that she's certainly one tough sumbitch, and
leave it at that for now.
For completists and RP-Gamers: I went over my spreadsheet breakdown of Palladium's Ninjas and
Superspies. The scumbag in the woods (presumably ~4 th-5th level AD&D 1e NPC, with ~2 nd-3rd level
henchmen) never had a prayer against Sonic, Zelda, or Tails (I don't know about Ruru):
Peach (irrelevant to the woods fight) is either 1st or just maybe 2nd level by the
time that they reach Freeport, which is about equal to a level 2.6 or 16 (sixteen is not a
typo: 2nd level Hedgehog style MMA seems to be about level 16 for a mean-average
N&SS martial art [though by its structure, you'd expect lvl. 1-2 HsMMA to approach
the equivalent of a mean-average form's lvl. 16-32 – digging into it, I found something
odd in the .ods's handling of “average(...)” that yields “#div/0!” when the source-range
includes empty values {cells with nothing and/or blank due to formulae that have no
input as yet}: that will need to be fixed, maybe with “if(sum(...)>0; sum(...)/n”, and
relevant data here will later need revision]), so split the difference and say that she's
probably on even ground with a mean-average level 9±2 N&SS martial artist (treating
levels as a continuous function, rather than step), so she probably(?) could have taken
down both of the guards in the hotel on her own (I figure them for maybe level 4-6) – I
haven't yet looked at her likely level when she started throwing chi balls in chapter 7
(after the zombies, before Kitana), other than to see that Rifts World Book 25: China 2
pg. 41 shows xian tai chi chuan practitioners as being capable of forming and using
them at 1st level – and likely reached level 1 (quite possibly 2 or 3) as a ranger by then
(with some geek-based OCC skills, but not necessarily any actual geek-OCC per se);
➢ By the end of the first summer (of 6559 PB), she'd have picked up about 1(±0.5)
level of piratical skills and culture (de facto, if not de jure), and about the same
[additional] of HsMMA (i.e.: at a then-current level of ~2-3.5 HsMMA, she's now
officially one serious bad ass [regardless of whatever that's equivalent to in mean-
average MA levels: it's almost certainly lower than level 16*~2.75=~44, but it's just as
“almost certainly” higher than merely switching between 16 different forms at level
2.75 each], so don't mess with The Princess);
➢ What with one thing and another, I don't expect her to have reached first level
wizard 'til some time between late fall and mid-winter of 6559 PB;
➢ By the next summer (i.e.: 6560 PB), she's gotten her geek on full steam, so add a
handful of geek-skills (perhaps having attained a level or so as a bard by this point, or
very nearly, and some advanced mathematics from a Palladium perspective);
➢ The sneaking and fighting within the dungeon sprawl starting somewhat before their
arrival at Tor Diablo, and likely ending only after putting several leagues behind them,
probably added a level or two of rogue skills and perhaps one further level or so of
HsMMA;
➢ I could hazard a guess at her ECL, if only I had a ballpark estimation of her levels in
princessing (clearly, she's at least a level 1 princess, though honestly I'd say more
around 5-ish – but I'd really need to look at a few work-ups on it [and there are a few
out there for various editions of AD&D]);
➢ And all of that is ignoring her known skills, such as contortionism and ice skating
(and I suspect acrobatics, though her skill there might be closer to the 1e AD&D thief
sub-class [if I ever do stat out the PCs here, I might have to keep this in mind {see
Dragon #69 and Unearthed Arcana}, and maybe cherry-pick from the 2e kit {see
Complete Thief and Skills & Powers} and 3.x PrC & feats {see Song and Silence and
Complete Adventurer}]);
Zelda's 10-11 APM (with each action considered to be equivalent to an attack,

and ignoring the question of three heartbeats' span [approximately one 6-second D&D
mêlée round] vs. a 15-second [Palladium] mêlée round) makes her at least 7th-8th level in
Hedgehog style, which comes out about equivalent to a mean-average level 26±2 N&SS
martial artist OCC (I can't guess at an ECL or CR, since I don't have any real idea of her
princess, ranger, thief, pirate [admiral], or wizard levels just now);
Sonic is about level 15 in Hedgehog style, which in raw numbers is 15 levels

each of 16 styles combined, so something less than level 240 (since Hedgehog style
takes only the maxima of the styles' inputs per level, not the sum total of them all [i.e.: if
HsMMA used only three MA and each had some particular bonus of {+3, +3, +5}, then
he'd get +5, not +11]) – taking it instead as a product of 21 APM * total boni (not incl.
atemi, zenjoriki, etc.) gives him a minimum threat potential of ~405 (in terms of pure
fighting ability, ignoring any training, other genetic skills, and weird powers; for
contrast: level 15 tae kwon do threat potential is 264, followed closely by muay thai at
261, and that's about it) – he clearly also has levels as a ranger (as witnessed by his
SERE skills), and a few in at least one major espionage OCC (COIN training, etc.),
though I don't have a clear idea of exactly which OCC(s) or how many levels thereof;
Tails is tricky: I figure that he's likely around 8 th-10th level in Hedgehog style
(which means that he might be able to strike as much as thrice more than Zelda has so
far demonstrated), balanced out by a wealth of scientific stuff (medical, chemistry,
math, game theory, physics, electronics, mechanics, metallurgy, botony, zoology, etc. –
though how much of that is useful in Light World, being generally lower tech. than
Möbius, I don't know) and a few levels as a ranger;
➢ By this time, it's probably safe to assume that he's acquired at least one or two levels
as a technowizard (or some extremely similar OCC), and could probably qualify as a
gizmoteer easily enough if he were to bother relying on gimmicks;
➢ If I had to nail him down to something specific, then I'd say to just assume that he's
basically an actively adventuring sage (sort of like Elminster, I suppose);
Ruru doesn't seem to bring much to the table, but she has a good heart, a good
head, an excellent palate and appetite (these last two might sound trivial, but can play
their roles in social settings), and a few cantrip-level spell-like abilities, and almost
certainly has at least 2-3 levels as a ranger (certainly by years of osmosis, if nothing
else);
➢ It's odd that while she speaks lelɹli, her name seems to be in rɛro (see Appendix A);
➢ She also has some definite artistic bent and skill, as shown in “Sonic's Redemption”;
Lǎorén's 15th level Wombat style is similarly either distinctly less than or equal
to level 465 (depending upon whether he restrains his technique to mere maxima, or
relaxes to his normal sum total form) – whereas the 18 APM * boni analysis gives him a
restrained threat potential of ~959 or normal threat potential of ~8,176 (he hasn't done
much else, so these threat levels are somewhat accurate);
➢ Lǎorén's level in Wombat style isn't completely worked out (I only got as far as
inputting the data for the 31 N&SS forms, hence have yet to add in the basic +4 HTH
[first need to find a balance of them from all of their variations in different Palladium
books], the +14 new arts in N&SS Mystic China, +2 in Rifts World Book 25: China 2,
+2 in Rifts World Book 8: Japan, and +27 in Rifter issues 3/6/7/18), so he's actually
around 15 * 80 = 1200th level rather than 15 * 31 = 465;
• if 465, then he's 31 times Sonic's overall level (details aside), and if 1200, then
he's 80 times – we don't know Zelda's precise level, which certainly approaches Sonic's,
but presumably isn't quite at it, but in either case Lǎorén is overwhelmingly more adept
(imagine fighting someone who has not 1-2 or 5-10 but 31-80 belts for every one of
yours, much less with any commensurate mystical chi abilities thrown in; if you've
trained only in forms that aren't ranked, then imagine instead having a little experience
and fighting someone who is ~2-5 times as versed as your master/teacher).
➢ Yes, Sonic has 21 APM while Lǎorén has “only” 18 APM (assuming only the N&SS
forms, so far), which has to do with some HTH available on Möbius that Lǎorén didn't
have access to (there are a few other, similar quirks in comparing the two forms).
➢ No, he can't read minds, but in something like an advanced extension of the samurai
duel that we see between him and Zelda 10, he can read body language so intimately that
you might as well speak your thoughts aloud. Dude's 4,000 years old. Plenty of
practice.
Peach. I liked her, and hope that I've managed to convey who she is [here] at her core. I envision her
as being very lipstick-femme, basically innocent, slightly naïve – a little giddy, like Sailor Moon,
though less fiery, more like Abby of NCIS: a hot mess – and evolving toward something of a mix of
Holo (Hasekura Isuna's manga / anime “Ookami to Koushinryou” [“Spice and Wolf”]) and Rory
Mercury (Gate/JSDF), though maybe more like Hestia (Fujino Ōmori's DanMachi [“Is it wrong to try
to pick up girls in a dungeon?”] manga [x2] / anime) than Rory.
I made her half-Toad in the story (for those who are unfamiliar: “Toad” in the Marioverse means
“walking, talking toadstool-people”). By canon, she might be fully Human, and she might be quarter-
Toad (the toadstool-mushroom people) – there's some debate as to whether her original character
calling a Toad “obāsan” (or was it “bāya”?) was meant literally (it's not) or honorifically (it is). I
decided to fanonize it for this version of Peach.
The fact that she shows initiative early on is never actually shown to stem directly from Zelda's
conversation with Sonic about useless trophies and escape tickets, but I think that it's related. She's
pansexual (as opposed to Zelda, who's gay), or seems to be, rather than straight/gay/bi (though I think
that she'd initially been straight by default [i.e.: not having given it actual thought as such], given that
she'd needed to “adjust” to the idea of being with Zelda). The fact that she starts showing a streak of
10 Duel without fighting: Not actually N&SS canon, but it should be. http://www.geocities.ws/kuseru/PMAN/Powers/maksuna.htm
Maksuna ("warrior's stance" translated from Elven) BY Travis S. Guerrero (Prysus)
Two warriors meet on a battle field to settle a dispute. The two both get into their fighting stances. Neither opponent draws. Instead,
they stare intensely at each other. After a period of studying each other, the two stand at ease. The loser abides to the terms of the
winner. No blood is spilled, yet their dispute has been solved. Although neither opponent ever drew their weapons, a battle had just
taken place. They studied each others fighting stance. Both know who would have won if they fought. In game terms, both players add
their W.P. bonuses (strike, parry, and any other bonuses) for that weapon and their level. Then each rolls 1D20 and adds the previous
number to it. The one with the higher total number wins (best 2 out of 3 if desired).
An example of this is a Mutant Rabbit at 3rd level with W.P. Sword (from After the Bomb) gives the character +2 to Strike and +1 to
Parry. The total so far is 6 (+3 for level and +3 from W.P. bonuses). He rolls an 8 for a total of 14. He is facing a Human at 1st level
who has no W.P. for the weapon he is using. His total so far is only +1 (level bonus only). He rolls a 15 for a total of 16. The Human
wins because his total was higher. In case the two totals tie, both continue to roll until one wins. Each roll takes up one melee round
(15 seconds).
The rules for this contest are simply a suggestion. A G.M. could easily change them to suit his game. Some suggestions are including
Chi into the bonuses or making a tie a draw on the battle field (both leave acknowledging that had they fought, they would both be
dead. Both honors satisfied).
A One Person Maksuna is also possible. This is what it is called when a martial artist uses the Maksuna on an opponent who does
not know the technique. The warrior using the technique stands still for the same amount of time and studies his opponent. When
finished the warrior knows the outcome same as usual. However, the opponent is unable to determine the outcome. The fighter using
the technique will normally mention the outcome, or if losing simply stand aside or abide by the wishes of the winner. A true martial
artist (as believed by Students of Tunasi and most users of this technique) will never lie about the outcome because it would lack
honor.
Some users of this technique often use it to practice their form. They take their stance in a mirror and study their own form and
posture. This helps the martial artist to recognize the mistakes that he/she is making. Though this provides no actual bonuses, it can be
good role playing. Also, depending on the GM, experience points may be awarded.
See also http://magicalsamurai.wikidot.com/iaijutsu-dueling for details of L5R 4e duel if pressed to action at lower levels.
Jack-of-all-trades crept up on me. I didn't intend for it, it just sneaked itself into things over time. Not
a bard or a full-time geek (though probably fully-fledged), she definitely has a brain (I had pictured
something like “The Librarian”) – from what I can see, I'd say game IQ of 14+, MA probably 13-14,
and ME maybe ~12 (and the game values that would best represent her as described herein might more
reasonably be higher or lower, these are just guesses). Each of these ultimately derives from having a
goal that she's fixed on, and that fixation informs her every related decision. She has a strong focus on
her goals. She might not plan out steps to reach them, but she has an instinctive grasp of underlying
principles in each case, seeing the shape of a hole when the doughnut isn't there to define it. I do have
a problem with her [latchkey-based] Lost Child issues though (and with Zelda's, really, though those
are more unmooring-based): who might she have become had she simply evolved on her own, rather
than trying to become something for Zelda, and without the straitjacket of her rulership-oriented
childhood?
Her “Little Red Riding Hood” outfit was amazing when I ran into it in a Google image search. The
original work isn't on Peach, but it suited her so well that I ran with it anyway. I still need to get in
touch with the original artist (MirRoriel on DeviantArt) for permission... Likewise for random Google
encounters on the title page's kissing scene (either Cpt-pwe or Data-Drainz on DeviantArt) and the
Zombie Luigi Underworld screenshot (possibly Nukazooka on YouTube) and others throughout.
The story that she told of Bearskin and Candida (her name being my only original contribution) isn't
my own. I saw it in a PBS show of Grimms' fairy tales and it's stuck with me for 35 years. Her segue
to zombies I borrowed straight from “Pride and prejudice and zombies” (a really great book that
follows the zombie-free original beautifully) – though her artistically-inspired housecarl is a modified
version of an old Japanese tale “The boy who drew cats” – and her cliffhanger about tripods and time
travelers was a nod to H. G. Wells (I imagine some of the Morlocks as an evil mix of Dalek-like
steampunk mutants [K. W. Jeter, “Morlock night”] and subspeciated castes [from the 2002 movie
version of “The time machine”] and maybe Stargate: SGA Wraith, while another set counters them as
alternative-future good-guy Morlocks from a Dyson sphere [Stephen Baxter, “The time ships”], though
I'm not sure of just how the Martians [Wells] and Mothrai [TV] should fit into the mix).
Her autoreincarnation bit wasn't precisely planned, but presented itself as naturally as her self-
sacrifice. Yes, her ability to do so stems from being Ōkami, but it's also kind of narrative imperative,
per Soap Opera Rules: she's a good girl; Good Girls Can't Die – maybe a brief coma for one-off
suspense, but her recovery is more or less guaranteed as long as she isn't a smoker (and the converse
that she'd have been screwed, had she ever had an abortion). Yes, she'd had premarital sex (quite a bit
of it), but she was monogamous and never cheated (in her heart, they might as well have been married,
and it wasn't about the lecherous carnality of it all, but instead solely the love and intimacy thereof, so
she gets an exemption); yes, she'd smoked on many occasions, but she hadn't been (and isn't) a smoker
per se (ditto for drug use, if you count bridesbane); yes, she's even killed (at least twice [and no, not
Pantagruel]), but only in self-defense; in each of these cases, she's pretty much an innocent, and that
means that Soap Opera Rules forbid her actually dying. I didn't foreshadow her being Ōkami, so the
whole thing comes out of the blue from the reader's perspective – which is a bullshit move, to me – but
if she didn't know it, and nobody else knew it, then such foreshadowing would have to be shoehorned
in, and that's even more egregious than the lack of foreshadowing.
Why she couldn't “...cast [herself] outward,” as Lǎorén suggested. I keep thinking about that part,
and that it's unsatisfactory to simply leave it unaddressed. I think of it as something akin to how the
Ascended Ancients and Others of Stargate: SG1/SGA, or the various Powers of the
Buffyverse/Angelverse, maintain a somewhat hands-off policy (plus, she's incarnate right now [sort of
like downloaded], not a full-blown avatar [sort of like players in an ST:TNG holodeck]).
Similarly, I couldn't address within the narrative just why neither she nor Zelda considered her
money to support the resistance. Maybe I could in an internal monologue, or even a conversation, but
the idea of doing so seems artificial to me. I think that using her money would be a good idea, but it's
just not their mode of thinking. Zelda wouldn't rely on another to fund her, Peach wouldn't wish to
offend or buy someone's affections, and it doesn't really fit their class mentality for several reasons.
Finally, is it just me, or does Zelda calling her Princess stir ancient memories of “Battle of the
Planets”?
What about Zelda's and Peach's respective ages here? I figured on their being 27 & 18 (“almost 19!”)
at the opening of this story. Why? Well, ~18(±1) seemed to fit the feel of Peach's personality here (it
bugs me that she happens to be 18, since that makes it sound like some cheesy cop-out from a poorly
conceived legal-loophole or something, but I'm not about to change it to 17- or 19+ out of irritation),
and ~27(±2?)... honestly that simply popped into my head and I ran with it.
Assume that typical lifespans are 80+ for Humans, and 100+ for Hylians:
In raw numbers, without yet adjusting for lifespans, their 27:18 = 1.5:1 (almost 1.42:1),
Zelda's 27 * 0.8 = 21.6 in Human years (1.2:1, almost as little as 1.14:1);
In raw numbers, without yet adjusting for lifespans, their 18:27 = 0.6:1 (almost 0.7:1)
Peach's 18 * 1.25 = 22.5 (almost 23.75) in Hylian years (0.83:1, almost as much as 0.88:1).
Not really terribly far apart... sort of.

I pretty much applied the same thinking to Peach's drinking. She might not be quite so fond of it as
Sonic, Zelda, and Ruru seem to be, but it's more her age that I was thinking of.
Drinking age varies from one time and place to another (and in some cases is either outright
prohibited regardless of age, or doesn't have any set minimum age). In this case, even though the
canon video game world that Peach originates from has high tech. (e.g.: warp tunnels and flying
castles), and seems to be roughly in sync. with the real world's current era (in terms of general social
norm.s), I came at it from the perspective of its social structure having a somewhat broadly European
Middle Ages feel to it. On Earth, from what I gather of history, alcohol wasn't generally much of an
issue (e.g.: wine or watered wine, with any given meal), nor did one's age seem to enter into the
question. Based upon this, I figured that her being ~19 probably made it a moot point.
Keep in mind that all of this is in regard to her incarnate age as a half-Toad. As for her sort-of-
more-relevant age as an Ōkami... I don't know, but I imagine that it's probably a few hundred years
(and less than a few thousand) – but that it's also relatively equivalent to her incarnate form,
developmentally, and that she's allowed to play in Light World as a sort of safe backyard or
extracurricular program. For Zelda we have a little more to work with on the basis of her Goddess
aspect (as Hylia) being at least several thousands of years old. Whether these objective numbers have
much bearing on them (in either form) is open to debate, considering that time itself is somewhat
negotiable (certainly its relative rate of flow and possibly their location therein) for beings of their
level.
The story starts in the early autumn of 6559 PB (local year Post Bellum – that is: such-and-such
many years following the end of the Sheikah Wars). They were on the road for most of a year before
arriving in Hyrule (late summer 6560 PB), then another year and change before the end of the story
(New Year of 6561/6562 PB), and finally a third year before the wedding and Peach's pregnancy (Jan-
Feb 6563 PB). This brings them to ages 31 (two weeks past – just over 24.8 in Human years) & 22 (a
little over two months more, just under 27.8 in Hylian years) by that point.
For those who care: that puts Zelda's birthday at Jan 6532, and Peach's at Nov 6540, with their baby
due in Sep 6563 (~7.8 months [34 weeks] after the announcement).
Given the snippets that Sonic and Zelda related about their pasts in 6561, we can see that Zelda's
relationship with Pérdida occurred roughly Jun 6545 through Mar 6551, with her time on the island
being around Jan 6552 through Jan 6554, and Sonic's (and therefore Ruru's) time on the island being
around Dec 6547 (Ruru showing up Feb 6548) through Jan 6554, which puts Tails's time on the island
as Jan 6550 through Jan 6554. Nobody's said just how long Friday had been there, so that's still up in
the air.
Sonic I saw as a voice of reason. Insightful, roughly Taoist, and a bit too coldly pragmatic for my taste.
I think that he ended up displaying more of the stoicism that I had at first pictured as being in Zelda.
This is likely the result of Zelda presenting herself as stoical, rather than truly being so. Some of his
humor and teaching methods skate toward Heyoka or Sufi, but it's too far from his way of thinking to
ever really surface.
Now, if Sonic is the one who taught Zelda to fight (and we see in “Sonic's Redemption” that this is
the case), then I wonder just how bad ass he is. Granted, she might well have surpassed him, given
something under eight years of training at his hand, but if we presume that this isn't the case, then
where does that lead us? For now, I'll leave it as pegged: level 15.
As for his stat.s, I don't know if I want to get into them for any of our characters, but we know from
their division of travel in Act II that he, Tails, and Ruru can travel faster with Epona alone than they can
with Epona, Zelda, and Peach. That doesn't necessarily mean that their maximum average speed is
greater still without Epona, but it seems likely enough, considering that they'd gotten to the Fairy
Fountain in Act I before Zelda and Peach had on Epona. Taking an average rate (ignoring encumbered-
or-not and the question of terrain) of 50 miles (whether inline or circuitous) per day by horse (IAW
AutoREALM's assumptions), a 10 hour period of travel would give us an average rate of 5 mph (brisk
walking speed for most people). In [Palladium] TMNT, horses are taken as base speed 3d6+6 = 16-to-
17 SPD, but that only tells us how fast they can run (SPD * 20 = yards per minute: a SPD of 16-17 is
10.91+ to 11.6- mph, so about what you might expect to run if your walking speed is about 5 mph [for
contrast, humans can typically maintain a jog/run of 5-10 mph reasonably easily, and ~15 mph is fairly
fast and generally unsustainable – just consider marathon records' ~13 mph pace]) – this is pretty much
in line with AD&D, wherein a horse's SPD of 60' per round is about 6 mph. His Hedgehog Style MMA
gives him a boost of +4 to SPD (at level 1, with no later boosts, and without accounting for any special
skill packages), but that only tells us that his initial biological (if we could see them without the
genetically-present HsMMA) stat.s would presumably have been higher than 4-less-than-an-average-
horse's (assuming that Epona's SPD is approximately average), hence he presumably would have
started with more than 12-13 (i.e.: at least 13-14), in order for him to now be at least 17-18. That
doesn't nail it down to a known number or range, but at least it tells us their current lower-maximum
sustainable speed: somewhat over 5 mph (isn't that just ever so useful to know?). Realistically, it does
actually tell us something, just not much: they can go faster than a brisk walk for long hauls over mixed
terrain while carrying at least a light burden of travel gear.
His other stat.s get some boosts from HsMMA, too: SDC +15, ME +4, MA +4, PS +3, PP +2, PE
+1, SPD +4 (already mentioned), CHI +12.
His age I'm uncertain of (at least, aside from his obvious physical years in Light World), and not
simply because of time dilation effects in Warbotdorf's world-gate. He feels to me as if he's somewhere
around 35-40, but I picture him as having been on Möbius for only 10 or so years (total as Robotnik's
right-hand-man and as a rebel leader). ~10 years there plus his time here (ignoring the immeasurable
uncertainty between world-ponds) makes ~19.5 years physically at the start of this story, just barely
older than Peach.
His genetics were designed for hunter-killer survival and combat engineering; polybasic nanobots
course through his systems, with relevant epigenetic programs providing firmware of a sort. I wanted
to give him a physiology that was as tough as the Astartes (of WH40k) minus their gear, or at least
something closer to the modified humans of John Scalzi's “Old Man's War” series (with maybe a little
bit of the Sauron from Pournelle's “CoDominium” series), but it just didn't feel right – overkill, maybe,
or too much of a potential threat to Robotnik for him to be liable to go that route. I ended up with bits
of Harrison's Stainless Steel Rat, Jim diGriz, and bits that make me think of Keith Laumer's Retief. I'd
like to see a story arc that's a bit more like Mike Resnick's Santiago, but I just don't see that happening
(under another author, yeah it'd fit well for this party, it's just that it's not my writing style, no matter
how much I enjoy reading it).
All of this boils down to Wolverine/Deadpool-like regeneration, immunity, and reactions, and
several PhD-level knowledge bases. Killing him would be bad for your health.
Wila “Friday” Mesquite – Sonic's wife/wives herein – doesn't play a large active role in this book, but
her presence has been pivotal to his psychological health since shortly after his arrival in Light World.
I hadn't intended upon any prequels [or sequels, or sidequels] exploring his story, but I did end up with
some. As expected, she necessarily plays a very large part in “Sonic's Redemption”.
He calls her Friday for the obvious reason, but he wasn't entirely sure that it wasn't a Thursday. He
never could get the hang of Thursdays.
Her skills are shamanic and domestic. I can't go into much detail without giving up spoilers about
the prequel.
Tails is pretty much Shippō (Rumiko Takahashi's manga / anime “InuYasha”), though Tails isn't a
Kyūbi no Kitsune (whereas Shippō is). Probably twelve to fourteen years old, in human psychology
terms. A little bit of his personality is borrowed from Tony Tony Chopper (Oda Eiichiro's manga /
anime “One Piece”), and I don't mean just the medical skills, though there's that, too (and no, neither of
them is a Bake-danuki).
Sadly, I've no idea of who the artist is behind Mordenkainen's Adorable Binky, just where I found it
on Imgur.
Tails's genetic skills package is designed for physics/chemistry/etc. data acquisition, analysis, and
integration, with the same physical aspects as Sonic has. He's obviously reasonably intelligent herein,
but that just means maybe 110-120 minimum real world IQ, ignoring the question of any encyclopaedic
crystallized knowledge base. I recently entered a comment into “I am Legion” about this, boiling down
to his presumably having begun with a game-IQ (INT) ~20-25 on Möbius, currently operating at ~15
herein, and ending the sequel at ~30. His (and Ruru's) flight SPD is presumably about the same as
Sonic's ground SPD, but we already know that we don't know much beyond the fact that this means
that they're capable of sustaining 5-6+ mph as a lower-maximum. His other stat.s (and possibly Ruru's)
are boosted about the same as Sonic's (except CHI, which would be “only” +10 'til reaching level 10).
If his 12-14 human years psych-approximation is in line with his actual calendar years of physical
age, and we set that to the start of the story in 6559 PB, then that would put him at arriving in the Light
World in Jan 6550 PB at an age of 2-5 (9.5 years younger than 12-14, so call him 3.5 years old at the
time).
At this point though, I imagine Dr. Robotnik as having tweaked Sonic's original genetic soup toward
a less aggressive and more analytic clone-product perhaps 17 months after Sonic's batch (in keeping
with the release dates of the first and second games' timing in the real world), which would mean that
he had ~8.5 years on Möbius (just under 5 years older than the previous paragraph's estimate), if Sonic
really did have ~10.
Ruru (the phantom-sprite [Kaijin] from Hatano Sōichirō's “Musaigen no Phantom World” [“Myriad
colors phantom world”] anime, since she doesn't appear in the manga) surprised me. I had her role
here mentally-pegged as mostly Navi (Link's helper in the Zelda games), with bits of Tinkerbell thrown
in. It didn't work out that way at all. Her personality stayed pretty purely Ruru throughout. I can't
even get her to call Sonic “akri/akribos” – an Atlantean/Greek pun from the Dark Hunter series (or
even “nii-chan/onii-san” or “Sonic-kun/senpai”). On the other hand, she didn't give me any trouble at
all when I increased her stomach capacity, and her “...kisama...” reply to Zelda went without a hitch
(don't jump my shit on that, I'm just joking: I know that this last really doesn't count at all as an
honorific, I'm just thinking of it etymologically). Funny how that happens sometimes. She also didn't
“object” (I can't think of a less crazy-sounding term here) to my giving her cantrips as a spell-like
ability (certainly Prestidigitation, but I suspect others such as Grease and Faerie Fire, and low-level
illusionist equivalents of things like Explosive Runes [or 1e {not 3.x} Gust of Wind] and Audible
Glamer / Ghost Sound – and I'm guessing that her beach chair trick was a variation of Mage Hand, the
suntan foci having several possible origins). Hmph.
She seems to me to come off sometimes as not really all that bright, but consider this: she speaks
Common (English, here) almost perfectly (and those imperfections might be intentional or
subconscious, rather than idiomatic), Japanese perfectly (any mistakes that she's made are in her idiom
[hence her almost invariable use of “eto” and no real presence of “ano”], dialect-specific [e.g.: Kanto
or Yakuza], or entirely my own), lelɹli (presumably perfectly well), and at least enough Swedish to join
in a popular song (though that's not really proof enough to count). Essentially fully trilingual or
damned near to it. Even if she were clearly an idiot at some things, this indicates some definite degree
of brains with languages.
Also, is it just me, or does she make you think a little of “Pibgorn”, too? I haven't read that in over
a decade and a half, so I'm not sure why it springs to mind. Could be just the whole “Midsummer's
night” thing going on.
Much as she follows Haruhiko everywhere in the original, and is a projection of the repressed
portions of his psyche, Sonic is her focus here, in keeping with Navi going everyplace with Link.
There are a couple of changes in her personality here, but they complement the differences between
Haruhiko and Sonic, so I think that they're in keeping with Ruru's basic nature.
Her full name is Rururaruri Rurararirararururirirari Rirararururararururararirari, for those of you
who don't already know. She's been estimated as standing 16.6” (42.2- cm) tall, and weighing in at 8.7
pounds (3.95- kg); to me, her height seems to vary between 6” (15.2 cm) and maybe 12”+ (30.5 cm), so
I'm leaving it a bit blurry in the story.
Her explanation about her looks is a modified version of Lady Tohru's Platonic-ideals explanation of
dragons' forms in the Valentine's Day episode of Coolkyoushinja's anime “Miss Kobayashi's Dragon
Maid” (there is a manga, of course).
Taking Sonic's and Kitana's stories into account, that means that Ruru having been “born” (already
fully grown) Feb 6548 PB makes her existentially 11 years old when the story began, and it's about to
be her 15th birthday when Peach announces her pregnancy in 6563.
I hadn't expected to see Princess Daisy Sarasa at all, but then Peach had the idea to cut short their stay
in Freeport, and things just sort of... happened. I say this as if it weren't my own writing, and in a way
it isn't – where they were and why they were there was all driven by Zelda's half-baked short term
goals. After things became too unpleasant in Freeport, they really couldn't stay there for long without
something coming to a boil.

I don't have a precise age in mind for her, but I figure on something like 22-24 when she meets
Zelda in the summer of 6560 PB (putting her birth year in the area of 6536-6538 PB), so perhaps 25-27
by the time that Peach will give birth.
Just precisely where she stands with regard to Peach, I'm not entirely certain. It might all just be to
tease her in a friendly way, and it might all be exactly the blunt interest that it appears to be. I suspect
that it's a bit of each – Daisy might not actually be trying actively to get down Peach's pants quite so
much as simply messing with her for fun, but I rather doubt that she'd kick her out of bed either.
One can never come up with something that others haven't already, and that certainly includes Daisy
being interested in Peach (though that artist suspects that Daisy's gay, whereas I have her here as
basically trysexual; as for the way that she presents, her comment about being a tomboy [behavior /
interests] aside, she's somewhere between lipstick and chapstick).
Link was another surprise. I had fully expected to see him taking an approximately equal part in the
story, but it turned out that he was off doing his own thing throughout (I still don't know what just
when, and probably not the tree-hugging or patchouli-snorting that I'd later guessed, but I suppose that
one could work out a timeline based upon the stories in “What evil lurks” if that collection ever gives
us a solid date to work with beyond the fact that he must have gotten Epona back from Sonic at some
point toward late summer of 6560). I have no real idea of who he is here, beyond a vague concept
halfway between Joxer The Mighty and Autolycus (both from “Xena”).
For the moment, I'd been thinking 1 Thief / 1 Druid / 3 Ranger / 3 Fighter, with a few NWP slots in
music. When I got to writing a few short stories about him in the sidequel, I found myself thinking
something more like Supernatural and Evil Dead (and in the actual writing so far, maybe Ash is a
reasonably close archetype).
He's probably also lost a few [Call of Cthulhu] Sanity Points (whatever mechanics you use, let's say
that he's functioning at maybe 85%-90% capacity there), and might have a permanent low-degree whiff
of [AD&D Unearthed Arcana] Taint about him (1-2 points – not active, just present like a shadow or
hair style) – something like Ash of Evil Dead I/II/AoD, or possibly the Scooby Gang post-
zombocalypse. If so, then while he might not have a Fury Road thousand-yard stare, he's almost
certainly unhinged enough to strike people as some weirdo on a street corner, and his conversations
likely veer off at times in directions or comments that leave others wondering what the hell he's talking
about. You know how Sonic seems kinda nuts, but you know that most of it is just references to stuff
that we're familiar with even though most of the characters aren't? Same deal here, except that Link
would be talking shit that really is nuts from our perspective (Gremlins in the engines, slimy mutants
tearing up the subway tracks, underwear Gnomes stealing our garments, people in the walls...) because
he knows for a fact, from personal experience, just how nuts reality really is.
I kept pushing him aside in my mind, but I wondered just how much weird shit he's seen (and we
know that he has The Sight), fought, and done, rather than just dancing with trees and making friends
with small furry creatures (especially if he's acquired some sort of target on his back, becoming
interesting to any passing malevolent beings).
Damn. Plot bunnies! (Yes, there was now yet another sidequel in work, currently titled “Book 1a,
What evil lurks -- Link ALPHA VER 0.xx”, though the version will change over time, obviously.)
Warbotdorf. A composite character of Wario (not really), Dr. Robotnik (almost entirely), and
Ganondorf (very slightly). He turned out to be a mere foil for the story, rather than the Big Bad that I
had at first envisioned. With his plans to be coronated emperor – and eventual apotheosis by
megadeath – now thwarted, and him being imprisoned in some immaterial Purgatory, he seems to be
fairly neutralized for some time to come. We don't really get to meet him (one scene just isn't really
meeting a character beyond technically so), explore his psychology, and that's a bit of a shame. As it
stands, he's pretty one-dimensional, but if the story does continue, then it might not be the last that we
see of him.
Maybe he really is as one-dimensional as he seems though, given his single-minded pursuits of
power; seriously, he's something of a narcissist, just not very covert about it, given his contempt for
“mere humans”. (H. G. Tudor might(?) qualify him as a Greater Elite, I'd guess.) This version (rather
close to the canon Robotnik overall, but within a universe that offers him somewhat different
possibilities from those of the canon Segaverse and Nintendoverse) reminds me of Rick of “Rick and
Morty”, with his narcissism turned up a notch or two and minus Rick's few slightly-redeeming
qualities.
One thing that I must give him is some credit: yes, he's a complete piece of shit and a towering
narcissist... but his narcissistic ego isn't without some basis. Granted, he'd be just as egotistical were he
a complete moron, but he isn't. That doesn't grant him any good reason to be an asshole at all, but in
his case at least he really is as brilliant as his narcissism would have him believe of himself.
Lǎorén, the Immortal Wombat, showing up in the final scene completely surprised me. I had thought
that maybe Princess Kitana would reveal the coming doom of The Lament Configuration, or at least
that her exposition might provide some direct segue to it, after the dinner at Donkey Kong's palace (and
it would go a little way toward explaining her otherwise distracting introduction so late in the game, but
completely unrelated things do sometimes coincide in real life, so I left it there). It's probably for the
best that it didn't, since that would have been a bit early to run into such a turn, not to mention a bit
much of a diabolus ex machina.
When that didn't happen, I figured that maybe Peach's Ōkami powers would suddenly come into
play and she would “see” beyond the māyā, or “remember” something that had been locked away until
triggered by unfolding events. Again, no dice. It would have been reasonable enough, but I suppose
that again it would have been at least a bit of a stretch to have her powers come and go like Easter eggs.
Enter Lǎorén. Deus ex machina? Umm, yup, almost literally. He's not any actual kind of god at all,
he's just a really really old dude, but – by dint of having acquired huge levels of skill – he is a lot like
one (or a demigod, or a titan) de facto. Of extremely gentle disposition, he has nevertheless mastered
some eighty martial arts in his several thousand years of life; within Palladium terms, think of him as
being a 1200th level martial artist (or at least 465th level, for reasons explained in the bullet statements
seven pages back). No matter how you cut it though, someone must be the messenger bearing the bad
news. Maybe this is the least implausible possibility, or one of the less unbalanced ones anyway
(realistically, I suppose that the most plausible would probably be for the shit to simply roll in and trash
the world by surprise, first with a zombocalypse-like plague of Cenobites out of the blue, followed by
whatever wrath Daemon calls down in order to clean it all up). Given who he is, it's extremely likely
that he would have knowledge and experience of the world-ponds. If he has a family-like history with
Pīchi Ōkami, then he would have reason to follow her life in general and contact her on occasion.
The language switch between him and Peach was fully intentional. His formative years and a good
majority of his life came about in a broadly China-like realm, and so Peach defaulted to Mandarin to
address him (there are half a dozen other reasonable options, with Cantonese in the fore [Lǎorén is
southern], but Mandarin simply felt about right because of Peach's princess-based natural courtliness);
out of respect, he reverted to Japanese with her, based upon her origin as an Ōkami.
For the gamers reading this, he's MDC and his staff is carved of Millennium Tree – yes, the runes
make it a rune weapon (I don't remember whether I'd decided between Greater and Greatest); no, I
don't have an explanation for just how he pulled that off. I'd like to see it have some power like those
of Chaos weapons in Warhammer FB, but that can wait.

He's an NPC whom I designed within Palladium's revised Ninjas and superspies (along with Mystic
China, Mystic China II, Rifts Japan, The Rifter [meh...], and a few others [Africa, Atlantis, Australia,
England, Russia, and/or Wormwood]) for an animals-only (a decent but limited specific selection, not
simply any species whatsoever) post-apocalyptic campaign setting (I used those others in designing his
world, but I don't remember if I did/didn't use any of them with him in particular, aside from the
multiple TMNT books), and I broke the system horribly to do so because I'd asked myself one
perilously simple question: “If someone were immortal and not living a simple life of secluded
backyard farming, then just how far might they advance with martial arts or any other O.C.C. (or
R.C.C., or P.C.C.)?”. He's the result: a character with 15 stacked levels of each canon Palladium
martial art (the only saving grace being that I didn't resort to using a ton of homebrews as well – though
I suppose that they'd be O.K. to play in and of themselves within the setting). Mind you, going beyond
level 15 isn't impossible, they just show the XP levels only that far for space conservation (see answer
24, page 4/22), and I didn't do so because I was only pursuing a hypothetical rule-breaking question
(plus, I'd have to work out each form's specific benefits for the next n-many levels).
It also occurs to me – belatedly – that I wouldn't mind adding some Hunter x Hunter powers (at least
from the first 3 arcs) to his already ridiculously overpowered profile. It's a bit more shonen than my
usual taste, but a decently interesting series overall, and the powers often show some imagination. If
you happen to watch the 148 episodes of the linked 2011 series (aficionados say that you should first
watch at least the first episode of the 1999 series in order to know who Kite is [and his impact] for
much later in the 2011 series) and wish to go further, then you might also want the manga's link
(picking up right after the last scene in the anime). >>> SPOILER ALERT >>> The world of Hunter x
Hunter might not be flat, but it certainly contains a much larger expanse beyond their map than their
average citizens are aware of, making it at least a closer parallel to Icewall than I had anticipated even
remotely (this isn't revealed until the end of the anime, slightly, and not really even then so much as in
the next issue of the manga [and then there's a decent map 4 issues later]). <<< END OF SPOILER
<<<
In order to give you an idea of his mindset, the game world that resulted from that question is sort of
like Gamma World with far fewer ancient tech. artifacts, though thematically closer to TMNT
(especially given that character creation is directly in accordance with the various TMNT books) with a
general ambiance of “Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon” (not so much Ironclaw/Jadeclaw at all). I did
add a very few pieces from other Palladium books, such as the Naga from Beyond the supernatural, but
only when they fit the right feeling. Your typical adventure there would be along the lines of “Rikyū”,
“The 13th Warrior” (with a little flavor adaptation, obviously), “The Silent Flute”, “Drunken Master”,
“Seven Samurai”, “Shōgun”, “Throne of blood”, “Forty-seven Rōnin” (or its Dragon Maid variant),
“The Ikedaya incident” (or its Phantom World variant), “Kagemusha”, “Bulletproof Monk”, “The
Hidden Fortress”, “Heaven & Earth”, “Ran”, “Yojimbo” and “Sanjūrō”, “Avatar: the last Airbender”
(Aang minus some tech., Korra minus almost all of the tech.), “Kill Bill”, tales from Ushiwakamaru, or
“Journey to the West”, “Mononokehime” (or any other Miyazaki), “Along with the gods” (two-part
movie 2017 & 2018), “Big trouble in Little China”, “InuYasha” – or even “Pirates of Darkwater” and
“Spartakus and the sun beneath the sea”, to a lesser extent. I never added anything from D&D's
Monks (though even now I'm still considering feather fall for Lǎorén), or TSR's/WotC's Oriental
Adventures in general or Legend of the Five Rings in particular, but none of it would really be out of
place there at all. It makes me think of Exalted a bit, but the comparison just isn't there.
The cause of his immortality I left unnamed (and though he makes me think of “The One”, no
multiversal self-killing had any part in it), lost to the mists of time, presumably in the dark days
following the apocalypse that birthed his world. He can be killed, in principle, he's just not going to die
of old age or anything silly like that. Sonic and Tails, though relatively young yet, are rather more
immortal than he – given their Wolverine/Deadpool-nanos, it's going to take a lot to kill them.
Of course, technically the Lǎorén who appears in this story can't be the same one as I had designed
as an NPC for the simple fact that this one is native to the Icewall meta-setting and comes from a
world-pond the same as most others do, whereas the “original” one came from your basic everyday
globe-Earth variant (unless we assume that one of these universes, in its far future, eventually remade
itself into the other, in which case he could be the same exact one or a perfectly identical reincarnation
thereof). That aside though, other than whatever differences that might make to their histories, they're
the same guy as much as anyone else would be from a more common form of parallel universe (your
basic everyday Eternal Champion template).
Kitana gave our protagonists a very brief summary of the cosmography of the universe that this story's
world is set in. What she didn't go into detail about at all was Edenia's anomaly.
Picture it as a spacetime warp, cutting her world-pond off from everything else – not like the Star
Trek energy barrier at the edge of our galaxy, but like the cheese that isn't in the holes of Swiss cheese.
Edenia was essentially the complement of a Swiss cheese hole, existing without the rest of the head of
cheese. Events occurred within it at a seemingly normal rate subjectively, but without time passing as
such; no thermodynamic increase of entropy, no aging or decay, only endurance.
Although they could approach the barrier, attempts to pass beyond it would meet with abject failure
(a disintegrating erasure [think AD&D's Sphere of annihilation], rather than explosion or brick wall,
but failure nevertheless). In this, picture something like the pocket universes of Philip José Farmer's
“World of Tiers” series (to wit: the home universe of the Thoan, and its unforeseen solid solar system
boundary with holographic stellar inlay), or more closely the firmament ascribed to Antarctica by some
Flat Earth schools in regard to Operation Highjump, the Antarctic Treaty, and Operation Fishbowl: a
very real boundary “past” which existence ceases (more to the point: “past” which the word “past” is
meaningless, since there is no existence “beyond” that limiting “surface” – rather like traveling on a
globe and seeking whatever might be farther south than the South Pole).
Chekhov's Gun suggests that Kitana be removed. While she provides some forward motion to the
story, her presence (in the as yet unfinished form of the story) provides no compelling need for her
interaction with the characters, nor great detail to her or her backstory. She's a red herring. I keep
thinking that leaving her in is a mistake, yet also that life often has little inconsequential interactions
and surprises of just this sort. Perhaps the third act will see a greater value to her introduction in its
fully fleshed out state.
One thing that her monologue does is to give us an idea of the dates back on Earth. The events of
Mortal Kombat have Kitana showing up in 1993 CE/AD. ~265 years later would be ~2258 CE/AD
(the same year as the start-date of Icewall-Earth's narrative, by real-live actual coincidence, no shit),
and since she tells them her story in 6561 PB, that puts M.K.'s 1993 CE/AD at ~6296 PB. That also
means that Sonic's and Zelda's stories of 6545-6551 & 6552-6554 PB would have occurred ~2242-
2248 & ~2249-2251 CE/AD (though we don't know the dates of Sonic's & Tails's life on Möbius, due
to the timewarp involved with his arrival in the Light World).
This also means that with Lǎorén being several thousand years old (say ~4,000?), he's either from
the future or a different “parallel” Earth world-pond (unless he's timewarped in from the distant past of
an Earth that happened to later wipe itself out [again] and eventually evolved humans and became one
of the current Earth world-ponds – which is preposterous, but entirely possible [statistically equivalent
to being guaranteed, actually] in an infinite set of permutations). In any event, if we take his age at
face value relative to the current calendars, that would put him as having been born perhaps 3563 PB =
1740 BCE/BC.
Donkey Kong plays a small but important part of this story. What we don't know is just how much is
going on behind the scenes with him. Warbotdorf leaned on him pretty heavily, but how?
We haven't yet explored just what role Puck (from the aforementioned “Berserk”) is to play toward the
end of the tale. Should be interesting.
...and simply out of respect for Daisy's libido, we can't forget the Rave Girls.
In this pic, from left to right, are a representative Koopa Gal, Shy Gal, and Piranha Plant Gal. They
originate in the Shy Gals from Minus8 (who made a whole bunch of really excellent material) on
DeviantArt (many others having since made further contributions to the set), and fit Daisy's personality
(as I conceive her herein, anyway) to a tee. Once again, credit where credit's due (and can be hunted
down) – and again, I'll now have to (I think?) seek permission of the author to include their work.
Oh, and as honorable mention: you remember that Succubus who got Peach all hot and bothered at The
Flock of Geese / Gull and Fleece / Golden Fleece? She was inspired by the Succubi in the Oglaf
webcomic. ;-)
And yes, The Abundant Crop of Hostesses came straight from DanMachi, but its serving wenches
are straight out of “Monster Musume no Iru Nichijou”11 (anime / manga) – picture a somewhat tamer
and much less exclusively-male-focused version of Monster Girl Encyclopedia.
On a personal note, I can sympathize with the Arachnoi – I used to do a bunch of karaoke in Fussa-
shi (I'm not certain, but from Googling 15 years later, it looks as if it's the BanBan place at 43-1
Ushihama: great place if you the chance to visit, and you get food and private rooms for your own
karaoke), and between each song, I'd grab another cappuccino. I don't know about anyone else, but
five or six cap.s in short order were almost as debilitating as a half-liter of saké asahi, for me.
11 MonMu: I don't yet know if this matters in the background of the plot (or any other book in this series), but the Doppels
(shapeshifters, rather than proper Doppelgängers) of Light World worship Kaonashi (“No Face”, of Miyazaki's “Spirited away”).
I really don't want to discuss Pérdida at all, but I think that it's necessary. Ultimately, she's at the heart
of this entire story.
As a character, we don't meet her in this book, but she'd have been born around 6531 PB, and been
stuck into time-stasis-death at some point in the 6553-6561 PB range (probably sooner rather than later,
given Zelda's wording). I don't know what went wrong with her, but I picture her as being a Vadhagh
(the same as Corum Jhaelen Irsei, of Michael Moorcock's “Swords” and “The Silver Hand” trilogies),
rather than an Elf (in the standard LotR/D&D sense) – if she is, then perhaps being the last of her
species (as far as she knew) speaks to her mental state somewhat.
This would mean that her hair being “...raven tresses streaked with a scarlet hue...” is aberrant, since
the Vadhagh in particular are described as “...slender, elfin and beautiful, with pinkish, gold-flecked
skin, tapering ears, fair hair and eyes that are purple with yellow irises, but which turn black and gold
when angered.”
Of course, being Eldren in general would settle that issue (“...beautiful and elfin, with long-boned
skulls, fair skin, tapering ears, generally dark hair, and [almost blank] eyes which are a solid milky
blue, "without orbs" (probably meaning they lack visible pupils), and shot through with silver flecks.”),
but only raise another by the fact that Zelda didn't mention her eyes being unusual.
She seems to most fit the description of Melnibonéan branch (e.g.: Elric), though that wasn't my
intention (“...a humanoid race [having generally Human/Mabden-like eyes] descended from dragons.
A depraved and decadent race, with emotions very different from those of Humanity, they are skilled
with magic and beautiful, though psychologically similar to cats – with a callous nature. [...] lack a
moral sense. Their actions are determined mainly by tradition and by the search for pleasure and new
sensations. Torture of slaves and prisoners is a common amusement, and the otherness of the
Melnibonéans is manifest in their aesthetics: they naturally prefer a mix of colors and elaborate,
baroque decoration and architecture. The Melnibonéans live almost entirely in their capitol city of
Imrryr and the tall spires of the city are every color of the rainbow. Their self-centered ways, however,
are held in check by rigid adherence to tradition – their society is devoted to elaborate rituals that few
Imrryrians have the courage to ignore.”).
In the end, she could as well simply be of another offshoot race entirely (or some hybrid of these) –
maybe Cherryh's Qhalur, or WH40k's Dark Eldar (possibly Harlequin)?
I don't see any of these species as being likely to inhabit The Light World, which makes me think
that she'd then be a visitor from another world-pond (as confirmed in Warbotdorf's Bond-Villain-
Monologue).
If she feels wrong to you, off, as if I screwed up in my description of her, then you're right.
The things that Zelda described were all real events in my own life, every single one of them
(slightly modified obviously, since I'm not a girl, and the real world has cars, etc.), but Pérdida herself
isn't – she's an amalgamation of two people. Two very real people. One was very angry, dominant,
always ready to prove herself to the world, felt trapped (I think), and was trying to escape her past (I
think); the other, the majority of Pérdida's personality, a narcissist (as far as I could tell), and interested
solely in the thrill that she obtained through the exercise of power (not the power itself, nor anything
accomplished through it). I won't belabor this.
Zelda's use of marijuana (a Chocolate Thai / Buddha hybrid) and hashish, though not specifically
identified within the text as being such, is also a parallel with my own experiences. After a couple of
years of hell, even with an antidepressant prescription (a few different ones over the course of that
time), I found that weed helped me with my depression, fear, nightmares, and appetite (hash certainly
would have too, but it wasn't available, so I can't say truthfully one way or the other). Well, eventually
circumstances were such that I couldn't use it any more. I'm not one for relying on crutches, so my
having to face reality again after a year or so was no big deal (though continuing to self-medicate
instead would certainly have been preferable, I admit), but it helped me through my worst period.
I'm not professionally trained to counsel or give relationship advice. If you read what people say in
support groups, you'll find two answers: one says that you have to make up your own mind, the other
says to get the hell out of the situation as fast as you can and never look back (narc.s being in
permanently active addiction). From my own experience, whatever that might be worth, I can say that
if you think for even a second that you might be in an abusive relationship of any kind, then seek help
immediately. I can't stress that strongly enough.
Only one word occurs to me: “RUN”.
If any of the linked anime and manga that I mentioned above interest you, and you wish for further
recommendations, then please see my profiles at:
• https://myanimelist.net/profile/Rockafellor
• https://anime.plus/Rockafellor/favorites,anime
• https://anilist.co/user/Rockafellor/animelist
• https://kitsu.io/users/286677/library
• https://www.anime-planet.com/users/Rockafellor/anime/watching
• https://mywaifulist.moe/user/18879
For more-canon material on the characters, settings, and some of the side-themes (to include
narcissistic [NPD] abuse and survival thereof) presented, please see the following URLs:
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Writer%27s_Journey:_Mythic_Structure_for_Writers
http://thesecurioustimes.com/2015/09/01/toastystats-femslash-stats-2015/
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Donkey_Kong_Country_(series)
http://www.dkwiki.com/Donkey_Kong_Island
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Princess_Zelda
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Princess_Peach
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Universe_of_The_Legend_of_Zelda
https://zelda.gamepedia.com/Category:Countries
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mushroom_Kingdom
https://www.mariowiki.com/Dinosaur_Land
https://marhiin.deviantart.com/art/Marioverse-Religion-Tribe-of-the-Ancients-Members-628812116
https://marhiin.deviantart.com/art/Marioverse-Religion-Deities-of-Star-Worship-V1-1-628367507
https://marhiin.deviantart.com/art/Marioverse-Religion-Demons-and-their-influence-644498097
http://character-stats-and-profiles.wikia.com/wiki/Mario_Bros_(Canon)/Adamjensen2030
https://www.mariowiki.com/Sarasaland#Constituent_countries
https://classicreload.com/genesis-dungeons-dragons-warriors-of-the-eternal-sun.html
http://non-aliencreatures.wikia.com/wiki/Altrusian
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_Land_of_the_Lost_characters_and_species#Altrusians
http://www.esselmancounseling.com/2016/02/23/signs-that-youve-been-abused-by-a-narcissist/
https://narcsite.com/
http://samvak.tripod.com/
http://familycounselingnorthdallas.com/cruel-intentions-about-narcissists-and-their-victims/
http://urhealthexperts.com/2018/04/30/5-signs-youre-dealing-dangerous-female-narcissist/
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b2Z80znPKI8 (#BBQBecky)
https://www.psychopathfree.com/articles/10-warning-signs-that-youre-dealing-with-a-sociopath-narcissist-or-psychopath.340/
http://southlakecounseling.org/family-and-friends-your-loved-one-isnt-crazy/
https://medium.com/@SoulGPS/the-narcissists-ultimate-act-of-cowardice-eba9abf0beea
http://berserk.wikia.com/wiki/Beherit
http://lovecraft.wikia.com/wiki/Cthulhu
http://warhammerfantasy.wikia.com/wiki/Daemons_of_Chaos
http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showthread.php?503473-Of-gibbering-beasts-and-beholderkin
https://tstitan.wordpress.com/2015/02/13/untapped-potential-the-demon-army/
http://hardcorecasualgamer.com/2015/02/untapped-potential-the-demon-army/
http://www.moddb.com/mods/hyrule-total-war
http://hyruleconquest.wikia.com/wiki/Hyrule_Conquest
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QBRzjCcpwZo (Zelda Theory: Hyrule's Darkest Secret [War Timeline])
https://www.zeldadungeon.net/imagining-the-legend-of-zelda-as-a-real-time-strategy-game/
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4y0T5T2iLRU (re.: Pīchi as a kami [not specifically Ōkami])
https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCmBw2VslVxiCHZHMCKWSJpQ/videos?&ytbChannel=null
For thematically-related stuff, I'd suggest:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O6nuwrR6u90 (Game of Thrones in Hyrule)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tOUksDJCijw (The Gamers: Dorkness rising)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BZfyIRnPPrc&list=PL3QV4Qp513S9BTRi829l9q4un72HtSnRf (Standard Action S1)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CpWUjImw4dU&list=PL3QV4Qp513S_orM34r__iP1aLz3_yLldh (Standard Action S2)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J0hcuKtubqY&list=PL3QV4Qp513S9vSxqqZWCNwy9hazCSLzqc (Standard Action S3)
https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLzdQ9vN7FdPZ5TWbzypM1oec61BS_oYvQ&disable_polymer=true (all 5 + some)
O ~~~ O
APPENDIX A: The Soundtrack

► Play all ◄
1 Bang bang (Nancy Sinatra, 1966) Lyrics
2 Zelda's Lullaby (Ocarina of Time, 1998) N/A
3 Riverdance (Bill Whelan, 1995) N/A
4 Folk round (Kevin MacLeod, 2007) N/A
5 Kinderly (Mediæval Bæbes, 1998) Lyrics
6 Til Cajsa Stina (Carl Michael Bellman, 1768-c1790) Lyrics
7 Feel like makin' love (Bad Company, 1975) Lyrics
8 Zombie (The Cranberries, 1994) Lyrics
9 Dreams (Fleetwood Mac, 1977) Lyrics
10 Don Juan triumphant (Andrew Lloyd Webber, 1986) Lyrics
11 The glory of love (New found glory cover, 2000) Lyrics
12 Pinhead [Gabba-gabba hey] (The Ramones, 1977) Lyrics
13 Another day in Paradise (Phil Collins, 1989) Lyrics
14 Creep (Radiohead, 1993) Lyrics
15 Apache (cover of The Shadows, 1960) N/A
16 Giant steps (John Coltrane, 1960) N/A
17 Together forever (Rick Astley, 1987) Lyrics
18 Never gonna give you up (Rick Astley, 1987) Lyrics
19 I touch myself (Divinyls, 1990) Lyrics
20 Hands up (Ottawan, 1980) Lyrics
21 Heaven is a place on Earth (Belinda Carlisle, 1987) Lyrics
22 Con te partirò (Andrea Bocelli, 1995) Lyrics
23 Dorogoi dlinnoyu (Sasha Grey?, Russian folksong) Lyrics
24 Those were the days (Mary Hopkin version, 1968) Lyrics
25 You might think (The Cars, 1984) Lyrics
26 Beyond the sea (Bobby Darin cover, 1959) Lyrics

27 Alive (Pearl Jam, 1991) Lyrics
28 It wasn't me (Shaggy, 2000) Lyrics
29 Ready for love (Bad Company, 1974) Lyrics
30 Wicked game (Chris Isaak, ft. Seren; Chillion remix,2019) Lyrics
31 Moon over Bourbon Street (Sting, 1985) Lyrics
32 The turning away (Pink Floyd, 1987) Lyrics
33 Boléro (Maurice Ravel, 1928) N/A
34 The four seasons (Antonio Vivaldi, c1721-1725) N/A
35 In the hall of the Mountain King (Edvard Grieg, 1875) N/A
36 Only time (Enya, 2000) Lyrics
37 Grande valse villageoise (Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky, 1889) N/A
38 Once upon a dream (Mary Costa, 1959) Lyrics
39 merengue (various) various
40 tango (various) N/A
41 Tus besos son como caramelo (Rodolfo Aicardi cover, 2014) Lyrics
42 Steppin' out with my baby (Tony Bennett cover, 1993) Lyrics
43 Drive (Incubus, 1999) Lyrics
44 Für Elise (Ludwig van Beethoven, 1810) N/A
45 An die Freude (Ludwig van Beethoven, 1824) Lyrics
46 La Caleta [dancing bolero to music] N/A
47 Drive (Incubus, 2000) Lyrics
48 Binks' saké (Eiichirō Oda, 2008) Lyrics
49 Yo way yo [Brunnen-G] (LEXX [TV show], 1997) Lyrics
50 Brand new lover (Dead or alive, 1986) Lyrics
51 What a wonderful world (Louis Armstrong, 1967) Lyrics
52 Return to me (October Project, 1993) Lyrics
53 I can't help falling in love with you (Elvis Presley, 1961) Lyrics
54 Nobody does it better (Carly Simon, 1977) Lyrics
55 True colors (Cyndi Lauper, 1986) Lyrics
O ~~~ O
APPENDIX B: Deleted and Alternative scenes

Deleted scenes presented here are canon to the story-verse, just cut because they simply didn't fit the
feel of the storytelling (treat them as a Director's Cut behind-the-scenes thing, happening off-camera).
Alternative scenes aren't canon – they're ideas that I toyed with, and could see happening in some
near-tangent story-verse, but they didn't happen here.
ALT: After the mining town, that night
“Sheik? If you wake up in the night with a full bladder or something, and don't want to go all the way
to the water alcove, y'know... you could wake me up, and...”
“Shh. I know. Right now, it's time to sleep. That's all.”
ALT: The night before the snail soup
“A quick trip to the water alcove, and I'm off to bed,” Sheik said as she stood up.
Peach's heavily lidded eyes were fixed on her.
Sheik paused, watching. As she turned slightly, Peach's eyes slid with her. She turned back, and
Peach's eyes followed. She had seen Peach watching her before, on the road. At first she'd simply let
her, then she'd made a game of it, hiding just enough to pique Peach's curiosity, while showing just
enough to keep her interested.
“Princess?” she asked.
Peach blinked and looked up into Sheik's face. Her pupils were dilated.
Sheik continued to watch her, pensively.
“Kneel,” she told her, and Peach did.
“Go ahead. Touch...” she said, adjusting her stance a bit.
Peach glanced down, then back up to Sheik's face uncertainly.
Sheik pushed just a little, letting some fluid drip from within. Peach's attention shifted as soon as
the drops fell, her heart pounding. Her lips parted ever so slightly, the tip of her tongue just barely
peaking out, her breath becoming shallow.
Sheik watched all of this, amused.
“Look up into my eyes,” she said, “is this what you want?”
Peach's head nodded slowly, once.
“Then open your mouth, come here of your own accord, and kiss me.”
Peach began to stand up.

“I never said to stand,” Sheik commented.
DEL: shortly after Valjean's
P asks Z later about the ratburgers:

P wait, what about the skaven?
Z what about them, babe?
P well, doesn't it upset them if you eat rat?
Z would you be upset if I ate a monkey? Or a shrew?
P oh. Well. Ja, I guess it makes sense then. OK.
ALT: Dinner at DK's palace
Sonic was telling Peach about the fine ribbons of basil being cut in a chiffonade, and to roll the leaves
carefully before slicing, but her attention had already been drawn away by Zelda's conversation with
Kitana.
Zelda gives her elevator eyes and murmurs something about “a new friend.” Peach is downcast, and
Zelda arches an eyebrow while stressing that they “might all be friends,” to which Peach looks
dumbfounded; as Zelda mentions “cold nights,” Peach's face transforms with a wide-eyed “Oh,”
darting her eyes between the two several times. She bites her lower lip and stares at the ground, eyes
bugging out, blushing furiously.
“She looks fantastic in her loli outfits, especially the goth ones,” Zelda told Kitana, “and just wait 'til
you see what she can do with a cherry stem...”
DEL: just after Zelda reassures herself of Peach's autoreincarnation
I had originally chosen to keep Peach's Shy-Gal-like anatomy, but finally decided that while I'll keep
the occurrence itself canon, maintaining it within the main body of narrative felt too much off-key;
partly a distraction, partly uncomfortable.
It feels to me as if it detracts from the whole, dragging it to the level of lewd-just-for-the-sake-of-
lewd (or worse: potentially making it seem as if Zelda isn't actually gay, she just “needs” a dick [or at
best, damned nearly one in this case] in her life and won't admit it).
I had kept it only because that never crossed Peach's mind. Her modification is there purely for the
purpose of better fulfilling Zelda's interest in anal – which doesn't make Zelda straight (or bi), it just
means that she likes anal (which in turn doesn't mean that all women secretly like it, just that Zelda
openly likes it). I think that we can all safely agree that if she were interested in guys, then she could
easily have her pick, yes?
Finally, I removed it for the aforementioned reasons. It's still canon to the story, but strictly off-
camera.
“There are going to be a few changes though, you perv,” Peach said.
Zelda nodded vigorously – no price mattered, as long as Peach were with her again.
“You know that little game that you like to play? The one where you have me wear that furry cat suit
and pretend that my collar has turned me into your widdow hypno-bimbo pway-ting?” Zelda nodded
again, grimacing, knowing that she'd fucked up big time.
“Uh-uh, no more of that. I have a surprise for you,” Peach told her firmly, “Suh-pwise mis-twess!”
Zelda's mouth dropped open, her loins throbbed and took on a wobble.
Peach stood before her, transformed into a Nekomusume in a French maid's uniform.
“I made a few modifications when I put myself back together,” Peach wrinkled her nose, grinned,
then scratched her cat-like ear, cleaned her whiskers, and batted the air. “Nyaa?” Her tail curled into
sight.
Zelda's eyes roved over Peach. “Your ears and tail, those teeth – this fur...?”
“Mm-hmm, it's all real!” Peach looked up into Zelda's face, her own facing downward, her eyes
large with an innocent look.
Zelda peered down at Peach's shirt, a hopeful expression crossing her face. “So does this mean that
you now have eight...” leaving the question dangling.
“Nope,” Peach said apologetically, “but I can!” giving Zelda a challenging and wholly unapologetic
look that said I dare you to fuck me completely senseless – right here, right now.
Zelda squinted at her. “Oh, you little minx!”
“...and if memory serves, you really liked that little Usamimi number too, right? Speaking of which,
I might not be a Shy Gal, but just wait 'til you see my plans for your little 'mountaineer'.”
DEL: just before their return to Hyrule and the consequential debriefing
Coming in from the cold

Return to Hyrule; fastest route is riding almost due south through Sarasaland to the Kremlantic, then
ship to Hyrule.
Z: Again – so soon? It's a little distracting, holding the reins with you poking my ass with that thing
the whole way ye know...
P: It's not my fault! I didn't exactly have a lot of time 1 or a blueprint to work from when I modified
things down there. Besides, your butt keeps rubbing up against it and it just sort of... responds on its
own...
Z: Do we need to pull over and relieve your “tension” again? I mean, you're already wearing a new
hole in my ass morning, noon, and night, anyway.
1 Ōkami time: Peach had time enough to recreate her entire body from non-existence, not even putting back together her atoms torn
asunder, nor yet the dissipated energy that once was glued together to form quarks and gluons and binding energy – oh, and to modify
her anatomy on-the-fly and have it come out functional (without prior knowledge beyond whatever godlike information Ōkami
naturally have at their disposal).
This takes several underlying phenomena to account for. At a minimum: time contraction (permitting her actions to take place far
more rapidly from an outside perspective than one would expect) along at least one orthogonal axis (just trust me: it's an Ōkami thing
here [call them “tau” and “teh”, IAW Heinlein]) that's been pinched along regular time and stretched out sideways (in fact, almost
certainly fanned out like a ginkgo leaf in order to permit multiple iterations simultaneously), the power to throw together a living body
with which to reincarnate, and some clue as to how to go about achieving this body-mod (if you're thinking of something akin to K 3-4
Encyclopædia Psionica [not so much K 5 Akashica], then you have a pretty good idea there).
Personally, I'd guess an extension of multitasking too: in this case, the ability to think in multiple modes simultaneously, and pursue
an idea (with any or all of these modes) along different paths simultaneously. Consider it the mental equivalent of Kardashёv 2.
P: But then everybody would know what we were doing – and why!
Z: Honey, Squishy-poos, believe me – everybody knows. And if we don't, and we get to port and
that thing of yours stands to attention–
P: Maybe we should pull over now!
DEL: from the afterword, regarding Peach's body-mod
As for the perv.s (and the merely confused) in the audience who weren't satisfied with the allusions
and the fades to black, I'll throw you a bone – well, three, but that's all.
If you're a reader of somewhat more delicate sensibilities then STOP READING HERE, and just
SKIP to the NEXT ENTRY. You have been warned.
It never made it into the narrative, but she can undulate her tongue in a wave
forward and backward, as well as roll it into a tube (convex or concave);
Her reference to “that little Usamimi number” isn't about an outfit, it's another
transformation form/power (to an Usamimi in this case, like Tyūre, the Queen of the
Warrior Bunnies, of Gate/JSDF), just like her Nekomusume transformation (now, if
she's InuYasha, does that mean that Zelda is Kagome?);
I'm including this mostly because I don't want you to think that I think that Zelda
“just needs a guy”: Peach knows that Zelda's not into dicks, so she didn't recreate her
body as an anatomicaly correct Shy Gal (yes, they're chromosomally chicks; yes, they
have naturally occurring fully functional dicks; no I have no idea how that came about
in-story, just that from a fourth-wall perspective there's a lot of fan-art out there and I
decided to include them), nor with the ability to transform into a Shy Gal, nor yet does
she have a dick (not even sometimes), but in response to Zelda's mooning and talk of
mountaineers, she did modify her clitoris (so yes, she's still cisfemale, or very nearly so)
– I don't know if it's a baculum (i.e.: vesicle-based growth) and/or if she now has a
baculum-sized retractable baubellum2 (a literal bone) or what, and it's really not
relevant. Sorry, but that's all that you're getting on the topic. You'll just have to imagine
your own futanari-like Literotica or Hentai Haven scenarios for that.
Happy now? I'll bet that you're still wondering about those cherry stems...
O ~~~ O
2 Baubellum: This actually happens to be the case with Orcs. Much like hyaenae, Orcs' social structure involves mounting rituals.
APPENDIX C: Tails's and Ruru's game

For reference purposes, I'll call it liùznmōn (liù bó + zn.t n.t ḥˁb + morris + agon).
Its description follows verbatim from the narrative:

“...a complicated board and the recycling of removed pieces: half of a liù bo board in front of each
player with senet tracks forking outward to a pair of nine men's morris boards that braced either side,
these in turn abutting an agon board between them, and surakarta loops around the morris boards'
outer corners and the agon board's central corners – and currently debating the addition of a
Northcott-nimber staging area between the morris squares and the agon field.”
Equipment:
1 Board (illustrated above)

13+ pieces each (min.: 3 stuck in liù bo [“liubo”], 2 ea. per morris, 6 to agon)
2 Queens
3 d2
2 d6
Rules:
The board consists of four playing regions: the liù bo paths, the senet tilts, the morris squares, and
the agon field.

If a player has pieces [that they can move] in more than one of the playing regions, then they may
choose to move any one of them (or up to two in the senet(s) on a regular roll, or up to four pieces if
they roll a double) in any legal manner. Moving within any one region [or from one to another] is their
entire turn [aside from the quirky multiple-movement-specifics of moving within senets].
Pieces may move only to empty spaces.
13 pieces is only the recommended minimum here due to certain assumptions; 11 would be the bare
minimum. I'm guessing that adding only a few pieces more might be a good idea (e.g.: a total of 15-20,
rather than 11-13?).
The pieces (and Queens) in Tails's & Ruru's version are presumably pegs that fit into holes on the
board, to deal with the issues of potential travel issues (wind and uneven ground, mostly).
Play opens with dice rules for moving through the liù bo paths [the 2 robo-gizmo things on the right
and left of the illustration].
Possibly 6d2, rather than 2d6? Or 3d2, given only half of a board?
The rules are uncertain today, so I can't really formulate much for this – I'll have to await a
translation of the 2019 Haihun excavation for solid guidance on moving the pieces initially.
Once four pieces occupy a player's central hooks, one of these may then advance to the pool.
Further pieces may later enter into the now-vacant hook and continue accordingly.
When a player has no more available pieces to bring into play, the remaining three within the liù bo
hooks are stranded there.
From the pool, pieces advance into either set of senet tilts [the 4 senets are the 3*10 parallelograms,
the tilts are any of their 10-cell strips], and move in accordance with backgammon throws.
• 2d6
• Once the senet dice are cast, the player must move if at all possible.
• Only the exact number of pips may be moved by a piece [no partial-die moves].
• If the dice come up the same, then the play proceeds as if the player had rolled four dice of this
value, rather than two.
• Move a given piece the distance of either die and then the other, or split the roll one piece per
die.
• If two pieces or more are moved, they needn't be in the same tilt, or even the same senet.
• If both dice can be used to move, then the player must move accordingly [choosing only one is
prohibited].
• If only one die permits a legal move, then the player moves only according to that die and
forfeits the other.
• If no move is possible within either set of senet tilts, then the dice roll is forfeited, and it
becomes the other player's turn.
No more than 5 pieces per player are permitted within any given senet at any given time (10 total
normally, 20 if using the alternative bottleneck rule described toward the end); once a player's piece has
left a senet and there are only four (or fewer) remaining, then they move another of their pieces into
that senet on a later move.
The pieces move outward along either of that player's senets' innermost tilts of ten squares from
their liù bo pool toward that particular morris square, return toward their own liù bo pool along that
central senet tilt, and make their final rally along that senet's outermost tilt to that morris square. Each
piece must complete the full three-tilt circuit in order to enter that senet's morris square.
Jumping of pieces is permitted within the tilts – that cell still counts as one of the cells in the move,
it's just that the piece that's already sitting there isn't in the way of the piece that's moving through that
cell to elsewhere. This doesn't cause removal of one's own pieces (I word it this precise way in
advance of the alternative bottleneck-clearance rule explained farther down).
The 7th, 14th, 21st, and 28th cells are blue-filled merely for visual reference, but the 24 th cell is pink-
filled to indicate the danger of landing there: to do so invokes a mandatory surakarta loop back to the
1st cell (it's one way: at no point does landing in the 1 st cell ever permit travel to the 24th cell). The
multiple-7 spots are marked simply because 2d6 → 7 as the most common combination; I picked 24 as
the lowest common multiple of 2 and 12 (the least likely rolls, though with the doubles rule, 2 makes 4
and boxcars at the liù bo pool is magically equivalent to rolling “1” as the total of 2 dice) – these are
subject to change if there's a compelling reason to mark something instead of 7 th cells (e.g.: cells 5, 15,
and 25), or to likewise pick something frustratingly close to the end that's less likely to be landed on
than 24. Also, while it might sound O.K. so far to have this at space 24, consider this: that's precisely 7
spaces from landing in the morris square, hence probably the most frustrating location to avoid (though
really, 23 & 25 are only slightly less optimal, so it adds only a small element of tension).
Pieces may enter their respective morris square only upon a throw exactly equal to their remaining
senet spaces plus one. E.g.: if a piece were on cell 25, then that player must roll a 6 (on one die [as
long as the other die amount can be used to move another piece within that same senet] or as the sum
of the two dice) in order to move that piece five spaces forward to cell 30 plus the one extra “space”
necessary to get the piece into the morris square (naturally, they could roll some smaller amount on one
or both dice and choose [if other options are available] to move that piece forward a small amount, and
then hope for a similarly unlikely small-value-roll in order to get that piece into that morris square
later; it's just that the smaller values are less likely and hence not as tactically sound as moving farther-
back pieces the small increments and waiting for a solid score to bring the farther-forward pieces
straight to the morris square instead).
No more than 9 pieces are permitted from each player (18 total) to occupy a given morris square at
any given time.
Movement into a morris square entitles the player to place that piece in any unoccupied space
[within that square] that they wish.
Once either side has at least three pieces within a given morris square, they may move a single piece
within that square a single space whenever it's their turn.
When a player has aligned three of their own pieces within a morris square (whether by placement
from that senet or by moving their pieces around within that morris square), this is called a mill and it
permits them to remove any single piece of the opponent's from that morris square [note that if the
opponent happens to have a mill in that square, then the player may remove a piece from the opponent's
mill only if the opponent has no non-milled pieces in that square]. Surakarta loops therein count as
much for movement and “straight” lines as the standard morris connections do.
Removed pieces return to the owner's reserve to begin their journey again (liù bo, senet, morris).
The piece removal doesn't count as either player's move.
Only removing an opponent's piece permits the player to maneuver that square's pieces for one of
them exit to the agon field. Upon subsequent turns after the one in which they removed the opponent's
piece, they may move any piece within that morris square a single space per move – to legally move
pieces that are in any other field is permitted, but doing so [except to form a mill in the other morris
square] then voids their morris square pieces' eligibility to enter the agon field, after which all of their
morris-pieces must await another piece-removal before regaining said eligibility.
Once the opponent moves another piece into that same morris square, the previous agon-entrance
condition is nullified, and another removal must occur before the removing player (whichever that
might be now) may seek the agon field from that square (or continue to seek it, if it's the same player
again). This nullification affects only the entered square, not both squares.
Players may form double mills such that moving from one mill to the other not-quite-mill causes the
other to become a mill (and clearly de-milling the first mill). This obviously gives them control of that
morris square, permitting them to move further pieces into that morris square unhindered, but
discouraging their opponent from following the senet that leads to that morris square.
Pieces of either side entering the agon field may be positioned anywhere along the outermost ring
with the exception of either Queen's hex (nearest to her respective player) and the opponent's Queen's
wings (those three hexes to each side that are paired by surakarta loops).
Once either side has reached at least six pieces (plus the already-present Queen) within the agon
field, then maneuvering may (not “must”) commence therein (in addition to further play being
permitted in order to bring reinforcements from without). This does not require that the opponent have
any pieces of their own within the agon field, other than their already-present Queen who will then face
a difficult task (they can't capture, only move in hope of evading capture and taking the throne – or
await their own pieces' arrival, which isn't likely to be soon enough to help). Given the nature of the
preceding regions, it's likely that this will precipitate 6:5 and 6:4 more often than 6:3-; 7+:x is possible,
if neither player chooses to move therein until more pieces will have entered the field.
Pieces may move in any of the six directions available, to include along any surakarta loop (of either
side) if available, but only one single hex at a time. The target hex may form a straight line with two
of the opponent's pieces bracing it (thus sacrificing that piece en passant). Only the Queen may move
to the throne hex at the center (the single winning condition of liùznmōn).
Pieces (to include Queens) are captured when the opponent has placed two of their pieces (to
include their Queen) in a straight line to brace the player's piece to either side. That captured piece then
returns to the Queen's hex if it's the Queen, or to the liù bo reserve to begin their journey again (liù bo,
senet, morris, agon) if it's a piece – neither of these removals counts as either player's move.
If a player surrounds the throne with pieces and refuses to move, then their stonewalling is
considered to be their forfeiting of the game.
A draw condition might occur if the players choose to move their counters to only the opposed
morris squares (thus having each army waiting at their respective square for an opponent that will never
appear).
This bottleneck could be negated simply by permitting pieces to renegotiate the paths, though
necessarily lengthening the game time and requiring jockeying against forces already present in the
opponent's senet tilts and/or morris square.
Alternatively, perhaps they could instead negotiate the opponent's senet, liù bo, and other senet,
presumably taking pieces en route (and risking being taken) – possibly by jumping in the senets, but I
don't know about the liù bo pool even counting (maybe the opponent's piece sitting there prevents the
player invading the pool, but maybe the opponent's piece in the pool would be bumped back to their
reserves by the player's incoming piece).
In either case, the senets' 24th cell surakarta loop is then a potential boon in speeding their backward
passage.
In neither case do the pieces need to enter/re-enter the liù bo paths, since the pools connect the
senets in pairs – but if they were to wish their pieces to do so, then they would require those three
hooks to be occupied by their own pieces in order to permit the fourth hook to grant their other pieces
passage one at a time... that's already the case at their own liù bo pool, but if they're in the opponent's
pool and seeking to enter the opponent's liù bo paths (I've no idea why they'd want to), then they'd have
to jump onto opponents' pieces (sending those back to the opponent's reserves) in order to occupy the
opponent's liù bo hooks with their own pieces.
A large buildup at or near a morris square might also be an issue, given that neither player would
wish to approach a square that has a greater force backing it, but could easily enough be avoided by
bringing in more of their own pieces to that senet before engaging the disputed morris square.
Tails's and Ruru's debate over the addition of a Northcott-nimber staging area between the morris
squares and the agon field stems from the question of “fairness” and possibly delaying either side
obtaining too great an upper hand on the agon field while their opponent seeks further entry. Although
the specifics aren't covered in the narrative, I picture Ruru as being in favor of amassing some
minimum force required for pieces to gain the field; I haven't thought this through as yet, but while it
sounds as if it would only delay the inevitable, it might possibly permit a more equitable distribution
strategy (as they see the opposed forces amassing in parity) at the risk of one player amassing troops
before the other does and thus gaining an enormous advantage upon mass-entry (in the event that one
player amasses pieces while the other doesn't, and upon agon-entry can then place the entering pieces
with a less scattershot desperation).
=====
I picture liùznmōn as having some parallels to the stages and levels of existence within Icewall in
general – a sort of precursor to The Game Beyond of “I am Legion”.
O ~~~ O
APPENDIX D: Tails's quantum question

What was it that was puzzling Tails about net spin and total angular momentum, precisely? It's
something that I never got a satisfying answer to, myself. Below is a write-up that I re-did in 2007 (the
original in pen and paper would date back ~10-15 years earlier).
I've retouched it slightly, since it was in .doc format, but haven't yet gone over it for update
purposes.
*****
Introduction
When ordering excited states of particles, it’s necessary to label the states into which the particles’
excitation can fall. There are 4 continua along which the particles’ excitation can vary simultaneously;
these continua don't have abbreviations that I am currently aware of, so for brevity of reference I shall
label them as follows: radial quantum state (R), net spin (S), orbital angular momentum (O) and total
angular momentum (T) – listed here in keeping with the sequence one encounters when reading a fully
labeled excited state.
The spin of any two constituent particles (quarks) within a given system (a hadron [particle made of
quarks]: a meson [a quark-antiquark pair, necessarily] or baryon [3 quarks {antibaryons are composed
of 3 antiquarks}]) can be aligned with one another (parallel, with their “poles” in the same spatial
orientation) or upside-down (antiparallel, with one’s “north pole” in the same direction as the other’s
“south pole”). Furthermore, the total angular momentum is the sum of the net spin of the quarks with
their orbital momenta.
The excited states of the particles are written thus: 13S2, 21P1, etc.; so by the abbreviations introduced
above, they would follow the general form of R SOT. Rather than explain each in the sequence used to
annotate excited particle states (R, S, O, T), I shall instead explain them in ascending order of
conceptual complexity (O, R, S, T).
Note that in an excited state, a particle is unstable and tends to do whatever’s necessary to shed energy
(say, by emitting photons, virtual particle-antiparticle pairs, etc.) in order to reach its ground state. This
is often illustrated as a pencil stood upon its point and falling to a more stable configuration – flat on its
side.
Orbital angular momentum (“O”)

Orbital momenta (the “O” in the general form RSOT) are designated by letters, such as S, P, D, F, …
(where these represent specific amounts of energy: 0, 1, 2, 3, …), in much the same way as chemical
“elements” fall into different shells such as K, P, D, etc.; orbital momentum is the “S” in the specific
example 13S2 (introduction, paragraph 3). Ultimately, orbital momentum is nothing but a designation
of the energy involved with the quarks’ orbits; to use a poor analogy (vanishingly accurate), the quarks
are remotely like planets circling a star (for those who know better regarding energy densities: please
understand that I'm just trying to get the gist across to those who don't in a way that they might more
easily grasp), in which case the orbital speeds of the planets are sort of equivalent to the orbital
momenta [or probability of location] of the quarks (this is a terrible analogy due to particles’ definite
quantum fuzziness [planets being only infinitesimally so], but it works well enough as a metaphor).
State: S P D F …
Energy: 0 1 2 3 …
Radial quantum state (“R”)
Whereas orbital momentum is designated by letters, the radial quantum state (herein labeled “R” in
RSOT), or principle quantum number, is designated by numbers – it’s the first number which you
encounter as you read a fully labeled excitation state, the “1” in the above example 13S2. Continuing
with the horrendously inaccurate analogy of a planetary system, the radial quantum state R is
something like planetary orbits – they’re an allocation of allowed distances (orbitals) at which quarks
carry a non-zero probability of being found. As more and more energy is poured into a particle, the
constituent quarks can react by going to increasingly greater distances from the ergocenter (for lack of
a better word); this is roughly equivalent, in our poor analogy, to a planet being farther away from its
home star as more kinetic energy is poured into it (inline with its orbital trajectory, of course).
In this illustration, picture the (light) core and each successive light ring as areas of high probability for
encountering radially excited quarks, and the dark gaps between each ring as low probability thereof.
R= 1 2 3 … (n) …
Binding
Energy = 1 4 9 … (n2) …
Net spin (“S”)
Net spin (the superscripted “S” in RSOT) is designated by the numerical superscript in a particle’s
excitation state description – the “3” in the above example 13S2. When reading the superscript, you’re
not seeing what the net spin totals out at, but rather you are seeing whether the spins are parallel or
antiparallel – the net spin is a measure of the degrees of freedom (potential states of internal alignment)
permitted to the system. Whereas if the superscript reads 1 when they are anti-parallel (because they
are both perpendicular to their orbit), a 3 (as used in this example) would indicate that the spins are
parallel to one another – which means that the spins are oriented to the orbit in one of 3 ways (a
triplet): either they are antiparallel to the orbit, perpendicular to it, or parallel to it (this is examined in
greater detail in the following entry which covers total angular momentum).
The net spin’s 1 or 3 degrees of freedom devolves from the pair’s spin-alignments relative to their
orbital momentum. While the net spin of the pair can be 0 or 1 (subtracting ½-½, or adding ½+½), they
also move and hence have orbital momentum. The combination of the orbital momentum with the net
spin is what
PROBLEM: if “Net spin +1 ↑↑” and “Net spin +0 ↑↓”, then why “3Px” and “1P1”?
That “3” denotes 3 degrees of freedom due to relative alignment of spins and orbit, which says
nothing of the net spin sum of 0 or 1 (the “ 1” I’ll hold off on because it could mean either 1 degree
of freedom [case “e” being prohibited in the last section down, “Total angular momentum”] or
that the total angular momentum is 1).
Take the daily rotation of planets by way of further using our poor illustration—now imagine two
separate planetary systems comprised of two planets each. In one of these systems, the planets both
spin around with their North poles pointing toward what we shall arbitrarily label “upward”; in the
other system, one of them is upside down, with its North pole where you’d expect to find its South
pole, and thus spinning from right to left (being upside down to the viewer, it’s still spinning from its
West to its East, by definition, and from the viewer’s East to West—hence the right to left, to clarify
that the frame of reference used is that of the viewer and the system as a whole, rather than that of the
planet).
This is roughly equivalent to the spin of quarks in a hadron (a meson [a quark-antiquark pair,
necessarily] in this particular case); naturally, planets aren’t found to orbit at the same distance, and
quarks have specific shells of excitation, but the analogy is meant only as a learning aid rather than a
literal equivalent. The orientation of the quark’s and antiquark’s spins, relative to one another, is very
important to the resulting particle’s total energy: when the poles aren’t aligned (when they’re
antiparallel), the particle is in its ground state (well, it could still be in an excited state of a different
sort, such as orbital or radial, but the net spin would be contributing the minimum amount possible to
the mass-energy); when the poles are aligned (parallel), the particle is excited, as it takes more energy
to keep a system running this way than when they are antiparallel – the lower the entropy (disorder),
the greater the potential energy. When the spins are antiparallel, they cancel out one another for a net
spin of zero; when they are parallel, they add together.
Pole direction:    
Spin direction: +=0 +=1
Total angular momentum (“T”)
This is probably the most difficult part of particle excitation to grasp, but it’s really not terribly
complicated, just a little convoluted. Total angular momentum (“T” in RSOT, which is the subscripted
“2” in 13S2) is the sum of the quarks’ spins added to the orbit itself (to me, a somewhat redundant
measure of a particle’s excitation): if one has the net spin and the orbital momentum, then to find total
angular momentum is merely a question of whether the quarks’ spins are (a) antiparallel to their orbital
momentum, (b) perpendicular to it, (c) parallel to it, or (d) one parallel and the other antiparallel to it –
the possibility of their being antiparallel to one another and perpendicular to it is discussed later. It
sounds a little complex, but the table and figures below show how they come together.
(Note: I find total angular momentum to be redundant because a more to-the-point measurement
would be to drop total angular momentum in favor of something like “axial perpendicularity”, or
something similar – wherein all that’s considered is the orientation of the quarks’ orbits to their net
spin; as it stands, the concept of total angular momentum is completely derivative of already standing
data. This diatribe is solely mine – not part of the standard model.)
Polar alignments
+ angular momentum alignment
= Total angular momentum Spin directions
a)  +  + ⇓ = 0 
b)  +  + ⇐ = 1 
c)  +  + ⇑ = 2 
d)  +  + ⇑ = 1 
e)  +  + ⇐ = 0 
Where  =  = ½ and ⇓ = ⇐ = ⇑ = 1
a) b) c)
Antiparallel 3P0 Perpendicular 3P1 Parallel 3P2

Net spin +1 ↑↑ Net spin +1 ↑↑ Net spin +1 ↑↑
Orbital momentum -1 ↓ Orbital momentum +0 ← Orbital momentum +1 ↑
Total ang. mom. 0 Total ang. mom. 1 Total ang. mom. 2
d) e)
1 1
P1 P0
Net spin +0 ↑↓ Net spin +0 ↑↓
Orbital momentum +1 ↑ Orbital momentum +0 ←
Total ang. mom. 1 Total ang. mom. 0
The spins and orbital momenta can be aligned in more than one way. To briefly summarize the above
illustrations (which are modified versions of what appeared in Scientific American, May 1982, Bloom
and Feldman):
a) Net spin: ½ + ½ = 1; orbital momentum = -1; total angular momentum = 0

b) Net spin: ½ + ½ = 1; orbital momentum = 0; total angular momentum = 1
c) Net spin: ½ + ½ = 1; orbital momentum = 1; total angular momentum = 2
d) Net spin: ½ - ½ = 0; orbital momentum = 1; total angular momentum = 1
e) Net spin: ½ - ½ = 0; orbital momentum = 0; total angular momentum = 0
In figure “a”, the quarks’ poles are aligned in parallel one to the other, thus summing to 1, while the
orbital momentum is aligned antiparallel to them; the total angular momentum is thus 1-1=0. A similar
chain obtains for cases “b” through “e”.
We return briefly to the question of net spin “S” and its permitted values: note that in case “e”, this is
only by extrapolation on my part (hence its separation from figure “d”), based upon cases “a” through
“d”; I have yet to verify that it is indeed the case that quark-antiquark spins can be antiparallel to one
another while also both being perpendicular to the orbital momentum (were this a certainty, then
figures “d” and “e” would be arranged above as “c1” and “b1”, respectively).
Of course, by the strategy outlined here, perhaps R SOT would indicate that case “d” should not be a “1”
in the superscripted net spin (of 1P1), but a “2” (2P1, with case “e” thus becoming 2P0), denoting 2
degrees of freedom (in which the orbital momentum is aligned with one of the spins or with neither of
the spins, respectively), as illustrated by case “e” being a conceivable construct. Because it is
annotated as 1P1, it is therefore suspected that case “e” is either misinterpreted or nonextant, and that
my comprehension of case “e” is thus incomplete at this juncture.
O ~~~ O
APPENDIX E: lelɹli family of Faerie conlangs1

Syllable rules
Particles
Lexicon
Random assembly
Transliterations
Orthography
Grammar
Dialects
Vocabulary
Tonality
The idea for lelɹli was inspired by Jeph Jacques' crazy fairy lady in Questionable Content.
Within the context of Light World, lelɹli started as the ancient language of the Faeries, an isolate from
ancient Sheikah2. They cross-pollinated over time. The Sheikah Wars jumbled everything, though
mostly-future forms dominated the prehistory targets, and the once-future mixes now cross-pollinated
with the once-isolate ancient forms. Today, the lelɹli family is the semi-universal tongue (or set of
them, in any event) of the Fae races (as opposed to being specific to only the Faeries).
Modern lelɹli is mostly-logically structured in its writing, doesn't reflect Sheikah's use of pitch or
duration (except for the punctuating particles' rising-short *ꜛlĭ [?] & dropping-short *ꜜlŏ [!], and the
long *ʔɑː [.] & *lɹː [and]), and uses a bijective phonetic unicameral orthography. In other words, it's
pretty obviously constructed rather than natural (though nobody questions it within the narrative, since
it must be natural, of course): look at the vocabulary section and you'll find that the words bear no
relation to those of real-world languages; real-world languages are used throughout Light World
(intentionally, not representationally) and show strong lineages (though not necessarily to PIE, as in
some “isolate” examples), whereas lelɹli really is as unrelated to any of these as one might expect a
conlang to be.
Before we dive into this: if you're not terribly familiar with the IPA (International Phonetic Alphabet),
then you might wish to open a browser page to one or more of the following:
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/International_Phonetic_Alphabet
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/IPA_vowel_chart_with_audio
1 Conlangs: interesting online conlang application called “Vulgar”, though it's not quite needed here (entering lelɹli's alphabet gives a
cool structure, but one that's just not in line with what I have in mind here), it's still worth mentioning.
Go to https://www.vulgarlang.com/#seeder and use {l} and {ɛ e ɪ i ɛɑ æ ɑ ɔ o u ø y ɵ ʏ ə} with seed 46649100134413346.
Too bad there's no matrix for mandatory-optional-prohibited versus initial-medial-final-isolated.
2 Ancient Sheikah: if I do take this one on at some point, then be forewarned that there's a lot of potential outlined in Artifexian's video
“These are NOT vowels”.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/IPA_pulmonic_consonant_chart_with_audio
The L-V rule of syllables:
► Go to top of Appendix ◄
Of the three dozen vowels and four dozen consonants that present in general, lelɹli uses one
consonant /L/ and ~18 vowels (example only; actual form could well be <>18).
Only /L/ exists: no other consonants (/R/ is non-closing & voiced, hence treated as a vowel for lɹ and
lʁ; this distinction ignores the fact that /L/ is also non-closing and voiced, yet treated as a consonant).
ee, eu, ih, r, ey, ø, Fr-eh, eh, ah, aa, Fr-a, aw, Fr-oh, oh, Fr-r, oow, oo, uh /// my own phonetics
i, y, ɪ, ɹ, e, ø, ɛ,ɑ ɛ, æ, ɑ, ɑɑ, ɔ, ɔ,ɑ o, ʁ, u, ɵ, ə /// IAW IPA 2018
Diphthongs decompose to their base l-vowel forms, except in *ʔɑː, *lɹː, and ll;
“ay” → /ɛi/ (not the same as e); “eye” → /ɑi/; “ow” → /ɑu/; “oy” → /ɔi/;
English word “Lie” can't exist in lelɹli as a single syllable, because the “aye” noise is a
combination of ɑ-then-i (closest = lɑꜛlĭ).
Technically, there are 2 consonants and 23 vowels, but:

/ll/ exists solely in the pause-particle;
*ʔ* exists solely in the question-article *ʔɑː and quotation-article;
the lengthened ɑː & ɹː and shortened ĭ & ŏ exist solely in the punctuating particles.
In a strict sense, every vowel is preceded by a separating initial-l (with the exception of *ʔɑː), so l in
itself doesn't actually need its own letter, which would then make this would-be alphabet into a one-
consonant syllabary (and only of the L-V form, no cases of V-L), or maybe a reverse-abjad (since it
gives the nucleus-vowel and leaves the reader to assume the opening-l consonant). I suppose that you
might then consider the letter for ll to actually represent [l]l, in which case the lack of a letter for “l”
would mean that the second “l” in “ll” paradoxically reveals the otherwise-invisible first-letter-“l”
(perhaps not its presence, since that would still remain implicit, but at least what it would presumably
look like if one were to write the L in each L-V pair).
Voiceless aspirants lh and l⟦ʍ⟧h are tempting to include in lelɹli, but I've decided not to.
lelɹli vowels circled in red;

ɹ below pink-circled Y, and ʁ below pink-circled ɯ;
nasalized ɛ,ɑ ɑɑ, and ɔɑ orange-circled near their non-nasal forms.
Sentences:
Punctuation particles: lɑ* reserved to indicate next item is punctuation-sound not word-sound.
(Done to lock in only one vowel (ɑ), freeing the remaining 5 punctuation vowels.)
lɑ* occurs only for these, not used within actual vocabulary-words (hence *lɑ can't exist):
*ʔɑː = “.” (includes exclamatory);
*ꜛlĭ = “?”;
*ꜜlŏ = “!” (imperative, not exclamatory);
*lɹː = “and” as punctuation (treats conjoined parts as separate sentences within whole);
*lɛɑ in ll, below.
ll :: {umm, ehh, ano, eto, <pause>}
ALSO used as <break> if then quoting someone (including self):
llʔlɛɑ quoted material lɛʔɑ ll
(then any other words and actual sentence ending);
Avoid pausing before any word beginning with “lɛ”ɑ , in order to reduce confusion.
Lexicon:
The means 18 L-vowel syllables (plus one reserved isolate), therefore the number of words that we can
make is 18^syllables (if every permutation were used, then the minimum Hamming distance would be
reduced to 1 [DIM 13], so there'd be no real margin for error, but that's not the point just now).
Not accounting for specific languages' actual phoneme frequencies, ~88 sounds might combine to
form natural languages' words. lelɹli's de facto construction of essentially only 18 means that it avails
itself to 1/5 of this phonetic potential (though considering that natlang letter frequencies tend toward
vowels more than consonants, the true fraction is probably better than this). The words might be 5
times as close on average as those of other languages, or 5 times as long, or some such, but the
constraint will show itself in some fashion.
The table below lists how many words can be made with each additional L-V, starting from the
empty set (purely for mathematical partition-completeness, not because it will actually exist within
lelɹli).
lV sets total words n-“volume”
0sy = 18^0 = 1 (null set) -0 = 1

(0 smaller words)
1sy = 18^1 = 18 (rather limited) -0 = 18

[1 smaller “word”]
2sy = 18^2 = 324 (bare survival level, better than average tourist) -18 = 306
(18 smaller words)
3sy = 18^3 = 5,832 (enough for a typical 10-15 year old) -306 = 5,526
(306 smaller words)
4sy = 18^4 = 104,976 (sufficient for all general purposes3) ... = 99,144
(3s+1 smaller words)
5sy = 18^5 = 1,889,568 (more than sufficient for any language4) ... = 1,784,592
6sy = 18^6 = 34,012,224 (covers any known language, many times over) ... = 32,122,656
If we assume that a typical adult 20-40 years old has (and presumably uses) a vocabulary on an order of
20,000-60,000 words, then we are drawn to the conclusion that choosing a random lelɹli word from
conversation would usually give us a 4 syllable result (ignoring the question of frequency analysis, in
which case I imagine that we would likely see a significant [though not necessarily a majority] skew in
favor of <4-syllable words).
There are almost 18 times as many 5-syllable words as there are 4-syllable words, but my hunch is
3 Basic vocabulary sizes: see https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Vocabulary#Vocabulary_size

4 Language size: A hotly contested topic, with good reason. Ignoring all of the arguments over lexemes and so forth, a quick dictionary
count is a starting point (and misleading, since many “words” aren't list within a given dictionary – English is quoted as having the
largest lexicon at 1.025M words, but Webster's contains a mere 470,000 while the Korean online dictionary contains 1.1M).
See https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_dictionaries_by_number_of_words
that simpler words would be used by preference (if anecdotal evidence of common usage in natural
language is a good gauge), especially if 5/6 of the largest number of words that most people will learn
are <5 syllables. By comparison, and as a partial baseline, your average word in English usage is 5.1
letters long.
Posit for the moment that most of the conversational volume would be distributed in line with the
population sizes of the ≤3 / 4 / 5 syllable words (and ignoring the possibility of 6+ for this exercise), in
which case we'd have a ratio of around 3.4 : 47.3 : <9.4 (i.e.: 5.6% / 78.7% / <15.6%), and that they
know all of the 1-4 syllable words and enough of the 5s to make a total of 60,000.
<16.8 words of 4-5 syllables, then 1 word of 1-3 syllables;
~5.4+ words of 1-4 syllables, then 1 word of 5 syllables;
~3.7+ words of 4 syllables, then 1 word of 1-3 or 5 syllables.
The actual distribution would probably skew a bit more in favor of <3 than this (especially in light
of the fact that a mere 2,000-4,000 word vocabulary apparently gives ~95% mastery of most linguistic
needs, and the fact that most people will probably have a vocabulary of ~40,000 words [2/3 that of our
baseline 60,000, and without even coming near to dipping into the 5s]).
One thing that I carefully ignored at the opening of the lexicon section is the fact that natural languages
generally have a lot more to work with in terms of distinct sounds. 40-50 sounds, more or less, for
example. Here, we have only a few handfuls of vowels (and /l/, though it's almost entirely disused
beyond a mere divider between one vowel and the next).
Think about it. Let's just say 40 sounds, for example. A language making words of up to 6-sounds
out of 40 to choose from can form 4,096,000,000 (40^6) unique words (plus one, if you wish to count
the null case, for mathematical reasons). That's just over 120 times as many permutations as lelɹli's
24,137,569 six-syllable permutations (with replacement). That's a lot worse than the five that I quoted
then, and the five was assuming ~88 candidates for a language's use. The contexts are different though.
In the opening, I was only talking about the volume of sounds used being different by a factor of five;
here I'm looking at the consequences (88^6 is >464 billion permutations, incidentally).
Let's say that English has around ~40 sounds (check the numbers later to update to correct specifics)
and ~1,000,000 words (rounding for simplicity here). That means that it's using only 1/24 of its total
volume, if all words were six syllables or less – and since they aren't constrained to six syllables at all,
English is clearly using a far smaller fraction of its volume than 1/24 (though I'm ignoring the question
of loan words in this case). Assuming that it were constrained so, the result is that lelɹli's vocabulary
would be ~24 times as closely packed as English words are. Uncomfortable, probably confusing, and
almost certainly a high risk of errors.
I could say that it's alright, since this is only a joke language, being designed for a work of fiction,
but that would be disingenuous of me. On the other hand, it would still be true to an extent. Mostly
though, it's just for fun, and the constraints add a bit of zest to the challenge (“ It's not a bug, it's a
feature!”).
Asemic rand-gen examples:
Using the above rules (with an earlier, slightly smaller alphabet), Akana's “Awkwords” program
(without the ability to prohibit things) generates some plausibly lelɹli-looking sentences. The word
lengths that it produces depend upon how many instances of (CV) you enter to indicate maximum
length. The results might also benefit from the website's “Derivizer”.
V = ɛ/ɑ ɛ/e/ɪ/i/æ/ɑ/ɔ/o/ɵ/ø/u/y/ɹ/ə
C=l
N = " "lɑʔɑː" "/" "lɑꜛlĭ" "/" "lɑꜜlŏ" "/" "lɑlɹː" "/" "ll" "
- = [leave empty]
Pattern = CV(CV)(CV)(CV)(CV)(N)
Words = 100
[set to generate all words in a continual line, to parse them here instead]
Filter duplicates = OFF
Bold-red font indicates lelɹli-illegal constructions, due to their containing non-punctuating *lɑ*.
Bold-blue font indicates ll-pauses (located as randomly as the other syllables).
Results Average
1 lɪlɔlɑ lɑlɹː lylæ lɑlɹː lylɹlɪlɑ lɑlɹː ləlululɔlæ ll ləlɪlæ lolɑli lɑlɹː læloli lɑꜜlŏ lɑl
2 lylɛlølølø lɑʔɑː l
3 lylə lølælølɑ læləly lɛlɑ oly lɑꜜlŏ lɛlɑ
4 lælɔlɔlɔlə lɔlulɪ lɑꜛlĭ læl
5 lɪlo ləlyləlɹ luly lɑlɹː lylæləlɹ ll lɔlolɔlə lɑlɹː ləlyli lulolɑlɛlɑ lɑꜜlŏ lɯl
6 lelɹ lɑꜛlĭ lll
7 lelɛlɑlɹ lɑꜛlĭ ll
8 lilylɪlɑ lɵlɹlo lelɪlolɵ lølɛlulɛ lɑlɹː lɑlælelæ lælɔ lɵlɔlɹlɪlɔ lɑꜜlŏ lel
9 lɔlɪlɔlɹlɔ lɔlɪlæle lɑʔɑː lɔlɪ
10 løleli ll ləlɪ lɛlɛlɑ ɛlɑ əlɛɑ lɑꜛlĭ ll
11 lɪlɛlɑ ɛlæ lɑlɹː lulɵlɑlɵ løləlɵ loly lɑʔɑː lɑl
12 lylɵlɑly ləlælɑ lɑlɹː lelɔlɪly ll lølilolø ll lululɵ lelɔlulɔlu lɑꜜlŏ ləll
13 lilɹlolɵ lɔlɑlilylɔ lylɛlɑ o lɪləlɛ lɑlɹː lølɔlɑlɪli lɑʔɑː lill
14 lɛlɑ ølɹlɛlɛ lɑlɹː liləlɹlo ləlɑlælø lɵlɵ lɔlɛlɑ ɪ lulə lelilylɑ ll lølolɪ ll lɵlulilɹ lɛlɛlɑ ɪlɵlo lyle lɔløly
læloly lælɛlɑ i lɪlulɵ lylɪlɪlɵ ll lɵlølə lɑlɹː ləlɹlɛlølɛ ll lɑlylɛ ləlolo lylɔləlɹ ll lololɵ lilɑ lɛlɑ ɹ lɹlɵlɑ lɑꜛlĭ
lell
15 lɪlølɵ lɑʔɑː l
16 lælælølɪlu lulɛlu lɑʔɑː lɑl
17 lɔlɵlɛlɑ æ ləlølilølɛɑ lolælɑ lɑꜜlŏ loll
18 lɛlɑ ɛlɑ ɔlɛlɑ ɵ lɑləlɛlɔlɵ lylə lølɛ lɑꜛlĭ lɑl
19 lolɪlɵlə lɑlɹː lɪləlelɹlɪ lɑlɹː lɵlolɑ lɵlolɑlɹ lɑꜜlŏ lɤl
20 løle lɑꜛlĭ ll
21 lɔlolɛli lɵ lɑlæ lɵlɛlylɹ lulɵ lɑlɵlɪ lɑꜜlŏ lɒl
22 lɛlɑ elɛɑ lilɹ lølɛlɹlɪ lylilɔlilɹlɛ [lɑ*] lɑl
23 From another test run: “ly lolu ll lɛ ɛ lɑꜛlĭ” (implying the odds of “ll lɛ”ɛ occurring are ~1/200
[without knowing the program's biases]).
I had Atlas (in another conlang generator named Vulgar) analyze the “average” sounds of the sentences
above. Algorithm A is a bit inconstant (shown in green) in its results; algorithm B remains constant
(not shown, since they're all {l, ll, lll, and lɑl}).
Still using Vulgar and entering {l} and {ɛ e ɪ i ɛɑ æ ɑ ɔ o u ø y ɵ ʏ ə} with seed 46649100134413346,
gave some interesting grammar tables and a good sized vocabulary as a starting point. The exact
results are a bit off-center from lelɹli as it stands so far, but could be modified easily enough. I don't
know that I'll use it, but it's a good tool to keep in mind.
Too bad there's no matrix for mandatory-optional-prohibited versus initial-medial-final-isolated.
Transcriptions:
Although the following isn't meant to show actual examples of lelɹli, it does give us some indication as
to how lelɹli would look and feel in a less-randomly constructed fashion by taking a natural language
and simply transliterating some phrases as well as I can (I'm really not into relexes except for use as
very limited codes [and Orwell's Newspeak], but let's go through this step by step anyway). It also
underscores the clear crippling of lelɹli's capability to accurately transliterate other languages.
Bold-red font indicates lelɹli-illegal constructions, due to their containing non-punctuating *lɑ*.
Bold-blue font indicates ll-pauses (though these are artifact errata, rather than real pauses).
If “civilization” were a word in lelɹli,

then it would be “lɪlɪ-ll-lɪlelə”.
If “The quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog.” were a statement in lelɹli,
then it would be “lə lulɪ lɹlælu lɑ lə lolɹ lə ll-leli lɔ lɑʔɑː”
(ignoring accent differences for “dog”).
If “Why do birds suddenly appear?” were a question in lelɹli,

then it would be “lɑli lu lɹ ləlɛ-ll-li ləlilɹ lɑꜛlĭ”.
If “Don't turn around!” were a command in lelɹli,

then it would be “lo lɹ ləlælu lɑꜜlŏ”.
If “These are the voyages...” were quoted in lelɹli,

then it would be “ll lɪ lɑ lə lɔlilɑlɛ ll lalɛɑ lɑʔɑː”.
Continuing with just the translated example-vocabulary (not adding punctuation):
If “It was a dark and stormy night.” […]

then […] “lɪ lulə lə lɑlɹ læ lɔlɹli lɑli.”.
If “...qui dolorem ipsum quia dolor sit amet, consectetur, adipisci velit, ....” […]
then […] “...luli lolɔlɹle lilu lulilɑ lo-ll-lolɹ li lɑle, lolelelulɹ lɑlilili lule-ll-li, ....”.
If “In the beginning...” […]

then […] “lɪ lə lɛlɪlɪ, ....”.
If “Four score and seven years ago, ....” […]

then […] “lɔlɹ lɔlɹ læ lɛlɛ lilɪlɹ ləlo, ....”.
If “Ask not what your country can do for you, ....” […]
then […] “læ lɑ lulə lilɔlɹ ləlɹli læ lu lɔlɹ lu, ....”.
If “We the people, ....” […]

then […] “luli lə li-ll, ....”.
If “When shall we three meet again, ....” […]

then […] “lɛ læ-ll luli lɹli li ləle, ....”.
If “I do not like green eggs and ham, ....” […]

then […] “lɑli lu lɑ ll-lɑli lɹli lɛ læ læ, ....”.
If “Towards thee I roll, thou all-destroying but unconquering whale; ....” […]
then […] “lulɔlɹ li lɑli lɹlo-ll, lælu lɔ-ll–lɛlɹlɔlilɪ lə ləlɑlɹlɪ le-ll; ....”.
(lwh is a non-existant [lɛlɹli-illegal] voiceless aspirant)
If “O Tannenbaum, o Tannenbaum, wie treu sind deine Blätter?” […]

then […] “lo lɑlɛlɑlu, lo lɑlɛlɑlu, li lɹlɔli li lɑlilɛ ll-lɑlɛlɹ”.
Clearly, direct phonetic transcription from some standard language to lelɹli orthography gives the
casual reader the impression of someone stuttering, or more likely of someone uncertain of what to say
and how to say it.
In some cases, nearly-grammatically-correct constructions can be made while having so far only taken
down the sounds of the original language's words. Without adding punctuating particles, the
transliteration of “It was a dark and stormy night.” almost forms translates as “It was a dark and
stormy?” (the resemblance is truly uncanny), and could well be missed if the reader were rushing
(assuming IPA orthography), or the speaker slurred, or the listener misheard. A similar risk (accent
permitting) would attach in sentences ending with such words as “lava”, “hollow”, “holler”, “Chopin”,
and “lull”.
Indeed, just such a risk stands with the language's name itself: “lelɹli.” One could easily imagine a
tiny slip resulting in mispronouncing/mishearing it as lɑlɹꜛlĭ, which would very nearly mean “and?” ll-
ləlɪ-ll-li <sigh> LUCKILY, le* and lɑ* don't sound terribly alike, leaving only the suffix-length to risk
close calls, and without the second lɑ* prefix, that following *li shouldn't be mistaken for a dangling
*ꜛlĭ – especially without infixes or simulfixes (such as that *lɹ* in the middle) being part of the
language.
Written form:
For orthography, I've defaulted to IPA so far, but would prefer something along the lines of Visible
Speech; the picture above shows “lelɹli” as transcribed into Visible Speech's orthography (“l” is
redundant by the LV rule).
Taking an estimated <6 syllable word-size, the written form takes a note from Hangeul, in which the
letters are written vertically (top down) to form a single “book” of a word. Initially, I had it mind for
lelɹli to work upward from one syllable to the next, but ended up sticking with the top-downward
approach instead (it just felt more natural to me for some reason).
For added contrast, the punctuating particles will be written horizontally.
I will assume arbitrarily a left-to-right sequence of words in a sentence.
Taking 4 syllables as the assumed typical (78.7%) length, we might want to deform or rotate the font so
that the resulting words don't end up 4x as tall as they are wide.
If we aim for an aspect ratio of approximately 4H:4W for a usually-4 syllable height (or depth,
really, since they dangle from the sentences' horizon line, rather than build upward from it), then each
syllable could be 0.8H:1W, with 0.2H kerning x3; the resulting ratio of 3.8H:4W could be good or bad,
but it's close enough to 4:4 to at least act as a starting point. A spot-check shows that the original letters
(without adding in any kerning) are around 40-45H:10-15W in pixels.
After rotation, that's ~1.25H:~4.25W → {<1.18H:4W :: 1H:3.4W}, before kerning.
We can start adjusting based on sought-after ratios, or spitball it by hand, but I'll take the bottom-up
approach here: if characters are built of strokes that are 1 pixel in breadth, and we use characters that
are composed of 2 or 3 strokes' width and sandwiching 1 or 2 empty stroke-spaces, then they will be 3
or 5 pixels in toto, so call it the average of 4. Add a kerning of 2 pixels before beginning the next
character. This results in a 4-syllable total book-height of 22 pixels (±20%).
A 4H:4W ratio would mean a complementary 22 pixels of character (or word) width.
If we then give the horizontal kerning between words 3 pixels of width, rather than the 2 pixels
found vertically between syllables, then aiming for a 15-word sentence average (assuming that
sentences are typically 10-20 words long) would result in a typical sentence being approximately 383
pixels long (effectively the length of 26(-) lelɹli characters abutting one another).
Finally, assume 6 pixels (double kerning) between the end of a sentence's [horizontally written] end-
particle and the next sentence's first word.
Below we see an example of the final results in a transliteration from English (the horizontal gap before
the next sentence began would simply be twice the inter-word kerning). An actual translation into
lelɹli would obviously require the lelɹli vocabulary, but this gives us a general idea of what it would
look like. Given the brief conversation between Ruru and Puck (see the ɽɛɽowawi entry of the dialects
section coming up after grammar), it seems that an actual example of written lelɹli would show word
lengths somewhat longer than I've anticipated here.
In the end, we have a modified version of a stylized Visible Speech for [the most recent incarnation of]
the lelɹli alphabet (I've included “L” out of principle, though I'm not sure if it should actually be there
or not – honestly, I really don't think that the Fae would include it):
Grammar:
From the featural structure of the written word, I'm guessing that root words' semantic modifiers would
typically (if not universally) be trees of suffixes: root_mod_mod-mod.
E.g., a big yellow pencil might be:

pencil_big_[yellow] (it's a big pencil, and happens to be yellow)
pencil_yellow_[big] (it's a yellow pencil, and happens to be big)
big_pencil would thus indicate (a big thing that happens to be a pencil).
This is in marked contrast to the order of modifiers inherent to English, as observed by burntcopper,
and somewhat more akin to the word order rules of Hungarian.
Extending the underlying format from words to sentence structure, lelɹli follows a VOS word order:
“A chicken crossed the road.”

→ “Cross_past_scalar road_specific chicken_generic.”
“The quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dogs.”

→ “Jump_present_over dog_lazy_specific_plural fox_quick_[brown]_specific.”
Note that in the second example the dogs could as easily have been described as [*_plural_specific],
if the speaker's intention were to communicate their specificity as being more pertinent than their
plurality (I went with plurality as being more to the point solely because that happens to feel more
natural to English to me; in constructing the logic of a sentence, a speaker could well need to express
either as being more pertinent than the other).
The VOS sequence means that example 23 “ly lolu ll lɛɑ lɑꜛlĭ” (if we assume it to have semantic
content) probably means {VERB OBJ <pause> SUBJ <question>}, implying that the speaker is
uncertain of just how to finish asking the listener about the subject.
Dialects and such:
Languages change over time. J. R. R. Tolkien did an amazingly cool job with it, Okrand's tlhIngan Hol
has its variations, and even Dinosaur Comics took a poke at it.
Here's a quick-and-dirty use of historical vowel shifts applied to lelɹli. For those who like
linguistics, you'll note some rather obvious parallels to those of the real world. Yes, I got lazy, but I'm
not trying to invent something entirely new whole cloth here, just work out something with an
interesting feel to it (especially since it's only for a lark and in homage, and intended solely for a single,
brief conversation).
Note that although the article “a” doesn't exist within the lelɹli family, “the” does.
NOTE TO SELF:
Incorporate a parallel of G-W shift, or no?
“Γου”* ↔ /w/V*
lelɹli
No official form, but the mainland lelɹli is the de facto imperial standard.
lelɹli groups color concepts into {irF – irN – red – orange – yellow – tan – brown}, {yellow – green
– gray}, {blue – purple – black}, {yellow – uvN – uvF}, {white – clear}. There are many words for
variations of green, and the repetition of yellow within the red, the green, and the UV groups is
similarly significant. (This stems from Fairies [the species, not the cultural group of Fae in general]
seeing several hues of infrared and several of ultraviolet.)
There are several variants of the language extant currently, and one extinct form attested in ancient
references (details to follow individually).
liːndɑɑɑɽu
A language isolate, mentioned here because some Fae still use it (almost exclusively those deep
within Schöndunkelundtief Forest), as well as some of the surrounding rural non-Fae settlements far
from anyone else. It has the /L/ and vowels of lelɹli, but also quite a few quirks that distinguish it. It's
thought to have sprung from some as yet unknown extinct non-Fae language, and some consider it to
have been influenced by Ancient Sheikah in particular.
It's not included in the vocabulary section to follow, but someone unfamiliar with it on hearing “lææˑ
ˈɽɵːnˌdhə ˈbwæːçʎɑæɽə bwè ʕɑˑɽɑˑ dhiːn dhæiˈùŋːdhə, lɛì ˈçʎøːɹuædɑ ɑ.ˌbwɪ.ʕɑˈi nìɑːçʎɔɔ .ɑ çʎɑːˈɽý?”, might hear
“laruunduh baakhyahruh bey hara diin daiungduh, ley khyoruda abihai niyong. gairiu?”, or even worse
“larunda bakra behara din deyunda, ley horda æ bi ai nion. gæri?”.
▪ 8 consonants (including /l/), 18 vowels (plus diaphoneme & tone differences)
➢ incorporates /b/w, /d/h, ʕ (epiglotto-pharyngeal), çʎ (/ɬ/), [n], and ŋ
➢ uses both the vowel ɹ of lelɹli and the consonant ɽ of ɽɛɽo
➢ contains (though rarely uses) the syllable-stop /. / familiar to ɽɛɽo
➢ lacks the glottal stop ʔ of lelɹli
▪ vowels often followed by other vowels
➢ vowels sometimes followed by [n] or ŋ, with or without further phonemes
▪ diaphoneme durations do distinguish semantics
➢ non-syllabic Væ, extra-short Vɔ, normal V, half-long Vˑ, long Vː
◦ rarely (if ever) more than three distinctions used per vowel
➢ e.g.: ESP lo vs. ENG low; RUS cam vs. ENG Sam; RUS trup vs. ENG troop;
RUS corps vs. ENG corpse
▪ 3 tones, plus rising and falling
➢ rising and falling vowels' semantic values have been declining into disuse for several
decades in favor of sentence tonality
▪ completely different lexemes from any of the lelɹli family languages, aside from a small
minority of loan words
➢ almost the antithesis of wawuwawi in some respects, focusing on external magnitude
and not-necessarily-organic lifeforms
➢ parallels can be drawn with ɽɛɽo's weather focus
▪ somewhat Uralic structure
ɳaɳuɳɹ
An accented form of lelɹli, found on the marches in isolated communities.
Developed approximately mid-64c PB (vs. present year of 6563 PB in epilogue, hence 66c PB).
Retroflex palatal [ɳ], not /L/.
Suffers a counter-rotary vowel shift, 0.2% occurrence {from a lelɹli vowel, rotate ⟲/⟳ along
indicated path to find the ɳaɳuɳɹ vowel}:
i ⟲e e ⟲ɛ ɛ ⟲æ æ ⟲ə ə ⟲i
u ⟳o o ⟳ɔ ɔ ⟳ə ə ⟳u
ɽɛɽo
A modern rhotic dialect of lelɹli, used along coastlines & waterways.
Developed approximately 60c PB (vs. present year of 6563 PB in epilogue, hence 66c PB), on the
heels of wawuwawi's second rotary vowel shift.
Retroflex flapped [ɽ], not /L/.
Suffers a single-rotary vowel shift, 2% occurrence {from a lelɹli vowel, rotate ⟳/⟲ along indicated
path to find the ɽɛɽo vowel}:
i ⟳ə ə ⟳æ æ ⟳ɛ ɛ ⟳e e ⟳i
u ⟲ə ə ⟲ɔ ɔ ⟲o o ⟲u
1 syllable = ˨ 2 syllables = ̌ 3+ syllables = ̂ ( ̂ ̂ )
Fractional pause after each syllable-pair = .
Rich vocabulary for weather and water conditions.
wawuwawi
A close relative of lelɹli, used in the Underdark & canyon regions.
[w], not /L/.
Suffers a double-rotary vowel shift (the first beginning in 48c but primarily peaking around 50c-51c
PB, with the second occurring approximately 59c PB), 20% occurrence {from a lelɹli vowel, rotate
⟳⟳/⟲⟲ along indicated path to find the wawuwawi vowel}:
i ⟳⟳ æə ⟳⟳ ɛ æ ⟳⟳ e ɛ ⟳⟳ i e ⟳⟳ ə
u ⟲⟲ ɔə ⟲⟲ o ɔ ⟲⟲ uo ⟲⟲ ə
Second vowel shift (62c PB) brought merging of vowels; lengthened vowels; rising vowels with
glottal stops; plosive vowels.
i, y, ɪ | ɹ, e, ø | ɛ,ɑ ɛ | æ | ɑ, ɑɑ | ɔ, ɔɑ | o, ʁ | u | ɵ, ə /// IAW IPA 2018
wiː weː wɔː woː wuː
wiʔ weʔ wɑɑ ʔ woʔ
ʔɛʔ ʔæʔ ʔɔʔ ʔoʔ ʔəʔ
The two shifts together resulted in a cumulative effect of {lelɹli → wawuwawi}:

li → ʔæʔ ly, lɪ → wiː/wiʔ lɹ, lø → weː/weʔ le → ʔəʔ
lɛɑ → ʔɛʔ lɛ → wiː/wiʔ læ → weː/weʔ lɑ, lɑɑ → wɑɑ ʔ
lɔ → wuː lɔɑ → wɔː/ʔɔʔ lo → ʔəʔ lʁ → woː/woʔ/ʔoʔ
lu → wɔː/ʔɔʔ lɵ → ʔəʔ lə → ʔɛʔ\woː/woʔ/ʔoʔ
Questions start with particle; statement/imperative particles don't exist (instead being made explicit
by the words and structure).
Strongly cavern-oriented: {big} connotes {deep} and {empty}; fine variations on air and water
quality, stone types, tunnel conditions; not many color distinctions.
ɽɛɽowawi
A group of pidgins of ɽɛɽo and wawuwawi, found around fjords & badland rivers.
Believed to have begun cropping up at least as early as 64c PB (vs. present year of 6563 PB in
epilogue, hence 66c PB), though present forms couldn't have occurred any earlier than 62c; they are
known to have stabilized no later than late-65c.
For those unfamiliar with pidgins, consider the following two examples of real-world Spanglish
(and this being without accounting for local accents and dialects):
You understand this, pero no esto.
Tú entiendes esto, but not this.
Single shift 0.3% + double shift 3.3%, compound shift ~1.83%.

Uses reru stresses and wawuwawi lengths.
Focus reflects parent languages' (central tendency of 40% combined words, plus 30% each alone),
with undertones of transitions, changes, boundaries.
Ruru: Hello, I am Reru. Who are you?

Greeting; this is Reru. Who present you?
lælolɛlu; lelu rɛru. lolo lɑɑlolɑɑ lylulɛ?
Greeting; Reru-[this is] [statement]. Present-you who [question]?
lælolɛlu; rɛru_lelu lɑʔɑː. lɑɑlolɑɑ_lylulɛ lolo lɑꜛlĭ?
lælolɛlu; rɛrulelu lɑʔɑː. lɑɑlolɑɑlylulɛ lolo lɑꜛlĭ?
Puck: I don't understand you.

I negate-[present] understand you.
ɽoɽɛɽoɽi ɽæɽɪ-[wɑɑwowɑɑ] wɪwowiwɛwə ɽyɽuɽɛ.
Understand-present-negate you I.
wɪwowiwɛwə_wɑɑwowɑɑ_ɽæɽɪ ɽyɽuɽɛ ɽoɽɛɽoɽi.
wɪwo.wiwɛ.wəwɑɑ.wowɑɑ.ɽæɽɪ ɽyɽu.ɽɛ ɽoɽɛ.ɽoɽi.
Ruru: Umm... do you speak lelɹli?

Umm... have word-lelɹli you [question]?
ll... lolɛlo ləlælə_lelɹli lylulɛ lɑꜛlĭ?
ll... lolɛlo ləlæləlelɹli lylulɛ lɑꜛlĭ?
Puck: I still don't understand. Do you speak reruwawi?

Understand-present-negate-past-negate you I. [Question] have word-ɽɛɽowawi you?
wɪwowiwɛwə_wɑɑwowɑɑ_ɽæɽɪ_ɽæɽiɽuwɛ_ɽæɽɪ ɽoɽɛɽoɽi. wɑꜛɽĭ wowɛɽo wəwæɽə_ɽɛɽowawi
ɽyɽuɽɛ?
wɪwo.wiwɛ.wəwɑɑ.wowɑɑ.ɽæɽɪ.ɽæɽi.ɽuwɛ.ɽæɽɪ ɽoɽɛ.ɽoɽi. wɑꜛɽĭ wowɛ.ɽo wəwæ.ɽəɽɛ.ɽowa.wi
ɽyɽu.ɽɛ?
Ruru: 'to... anata wa Nihongo o hanasemasu ka?
Puck blinks incomprehension.
Ruru <sighs> → party: This is going to take a little while...

While these simple changes are small, thus shouldn't present Ruru with great difficulty, I would
argue that the same could be said of simply hearing English pronounced with a consistent rule for each
vowel and then trying to understand what was said. (Note that Puck was scheduled to make an
appearance the whole time, but once lelɹli came to mind, it was too good to pass up.)
ʎoʎe
Long-extinct island palatal-iotic language; possible forbear of modern lelɹli.
Developed approximately 31c PB (vs. present year of 6563 PB in epilogue, hence 66c PB).
[ʎ], not /L/.
ʎoʎe showed a backward-vowel shift, 80% occurrence {from a lelɹli vowel, follow the ⟹ indicated
path to find the ʎoʎe vowel}:
i/y ⟹u ø ⟹o æ ⟹ɑɑ
o ⟹ɑ
ʎoʎe also contained {ʎtt ʃ, ʎʃ, ʎʒ, ʎɕː, ʎʂ, ʎʐ, ʎx, ʎɣ, and ʎX}, treating the second phonemes as
vowels, which accounted for a further mutation rate of 60% of those vowels not already affected by the
backward-shift. Where ʎoʎe loses four vowels present in the later lelɹli, it gains nine not present in
lelɹli, for an overall increase of 5; setting aside any other considerations for the moment, this gave ʎoʎe
23/18 of lelɹli's potential richness and flexibility (a 27.7% increase).
Focused on hunting and gathering, wind and water currents, constellations.
Very little remains known of ʎoʎe, but for comparison we will examine “the”, “I”, and “food” in
English, lelɹli, ɳaɳuɳɹ, ɽɛɽo, wawuwawi, and an example of ɽɛɽowawi, and then look to the ʎoʎe form:
{the} = lə, ɳə, ɽə, wɛ, wɛɽə → ʎɕː
{I} = lolɛloli, ɳoɳɛɳoɳi, ɽoɽɛ.ɽoɽi, wəwiːwəwæ, ɽoɽɛ.ɽoɽi → ʎɑʎʒʎɑʎu
{food} = lolilɛ,ɑ ɳoɳiɳɛ,ɑ ɽuɽə.ɽe, wowiʔwɛ,ɑ ɽuɽə.ɽe → ʎɑʎuʎɛɑ
Vocabulary5 sample:
ee, eu, ih, r, ey, ø, Fr-eh, eh, ah, aa, Fr-a, aw, Fr-oh, oh, Fr-r, oow, oo, uh /// my own phonetics
i, y, ɪ, ɹ, e, ø, ɛ,ɑ ɛ, æ, ɑ, ɑɑ, ɔ, ɔ,ɑ o, ʁ, u, ɵ, ə /// IAW IPA 2018
ɳaɳuɳɹ shift:
i ⟲e e ⟲ɛ ɛ ⟲æ æ ⟲ə ə ⟲i
u ⟳o o ⟳ɔ ɔ ⟳ə ə ⟳u
ɽɛɽo shift:
i ⟳ə ə ⟳æ æ ⟳ɛ ɛ ⟳e e ⟳i
u ⟲ə ə ⟲ɔ ɔ ⟲o o ⟲u
1 syllable = ˨ 2 syllables = ̌ 3+ syllables = ̂ ( ̂ ̂ )
Fractional pause after each syllable-pair = .
wawuwawi shift:
li → ʔæʔ ly, lɪ → wiː/wiʔ lɹ, lø → weː/weʔ le → ʔəʔ
lɛɑ → ʔɛʔ lɛ → wiː/wiʔ læ → weː/weʔ lɑ, lɑɑ → wɑɑ ʔ
lɔ → wuː lɔɑ → wɔː/ʔɔʔ lo → ʔəʔ lʁ → woː/woʔ/ʔoʔ
lu → wɔː/ʔɔʔ lɵ → ʔəʔ lə → ʔɛʔ\woː/woʔ/ʔoʔ
Red highlighting = homonym

Yellow highlighting = mutation
Green highlighting = agglutination
NOTE: wawuwawi and ɽɛɽowawi are still WIP (the table's vowel-shifting and such are very much
incomplete).
ENG lelɹli ɳaɳuɳɹ ɽɛɽo wawuwawi ɽɛɽowawi (e.g.)

fairy lelɹli ɳeɳɹɳi ɽeɽɹ.ɽi wewɹwiː wewɹ.ɽi
. .
5 Vocabulary: This list is mostly based on the words that I've found most useful or important to learn in the real-world languages that
I've picked up so far (to the extent that I can claim having learned them at all), though modified by ho w lelɹli is structured in its
underlying idiom. I finally got around to looking up some word lists out there, and pretty much didn't bother with them, but you might
have use for them; these two seemed most like my approach:
https://fluent-forever.com/the-method/vocabulary/base-vocabulary-list/ and https://www.wordfrequency.info/free.asp?s=y
. lɑʔɑː ɳɑʔɑː ɽɑʔɑː --- ---

? lɑꜛlĭ ɳɑꜛɳĭ ɽɑꜛɽĭ wɑꜛwəɔ wɑꜛɽĭ
! lɑꜜlŏ ɳɑꜜɳŏ ɽɑꜜɽŏ --- ---
& lɑlɹː ɳɑɳɹː ɽɑɽɹː wɑwɹː ɽɑɽɹː
... ll ɳɳ ɽɽ ww ɽɽ
“ llʔlɛɑ ɳɳʔɳɛɑ ɽɽʔɽɛɑ wwʔwɛɑ ɽɽʔwɛɑ
” lɛʔɑ ll ɳɛʔɑ ɳl ɽɛʔɑ ɽɽ wɛʔɑ ww wɛʔɑ ɽɽ
. .
who lolo ɳoɳo ɽoɽo wowo wowo

what lulo ɳuɳo ɽuɽo wuwo ɽuɽo
where lyle ɳyɳe ɽyɽe wiːwe wiːwe
why lulelu ɳuɳeɳu ɽuɽe.ɽu wuwewu wuwe.wu
when lælə ɳæɳə ɽæɽə wewɛ weɽə
how lælu ɳæɳu ɽæɽu wæwu ɽæwu
which lilɔle ɳiɳɔɳe ɽiɽɔ.ɽe wiːwɔwe ɽiɽɔɽe
quality lulɪlɛɑ ɳuɳɪɳɛɑ ɽuɽɪ.ɽɛɑ wuwiʔwɛɑ wuwiʔ.wɪwɛɑ
quantity lulɪli ɳuɳɪɳi ɽuɽɪ.ɽi wuwiːwiː ɽuɽɪ.wiː
. .
person læləlu ɳæɳəɳu ɽæɽə.ɽu wewɛwɔ ɽæɽə.wɔ

thing/event lɛləlu ɳɛɳəɳu ɽɛɽə.ɽu wɛwəwu ɽɛɽə.ɽu
shape ləluləlu ɳəɳuɳəɳu ɽəɽu.ɽəɽu wəwuwəwu ɽəɽu.ɽəɽu
place lælɔlɑ e ɳæɳɔɳɑ e ɽæɽɔ.ɑ ɽe wæwɔw ɑ e wæwɔ.ɑ we
reason lɛlɑ olɹle ɳɛɳɑ oɳɹɳe ɽɛɽɑ o.ɽɹɽe wɛwɑ owɹwe wɛw ɑ o.wɹwe
time lilɛlɑ əlu ɳiɳɛɳɑ əɳu ɽiɽɛ.ɑ ɽəɽu wiːwɛwɑ əwu ɽiɽɛɽɑ ə.ɽu
method lylæ ɳyɳæ ɽyɽæ wywæ ɽywæ
option lɛlə ɳɛɳə ɽɛɽə wɛwə wɛɽə
nature lɪlolɪlə ɳɪɳoɳɪɳə ɽɪɽo.ɽɪɽə wiːwowiːwə ɽɪɽo.ɽɪɽə
size/amount læluləlu ɳæɳuɳəɳu ɽæɽu.ɽəɽu wewɔwɛwɔ ɽæwɔ.ɽəwɔ
. .
0th person lɔle ɳɔɳe ɽɔɽe wɔwe ɽɔwe

I lolɛloli ɳoɳɛɳoɳi ɽoɽɛ.ɽoɽi wəwiːwəwæ ɽoɽɛ.ɽoɽi
you lylulɛ ɳyɳuɳɛ ɽyɽu.ɽɛ wiːwuwɛ ɽyɽu.ɽɛ
he lɛlo ɳɛɳo ɽɛɽo wɛwo wɛwo
she lɛlæ ɳɛɳæ ɽɛɽæ wɛwæ ɽɛɽæ
adult lolɑɑli ɳoɳɑɑɳi ɽoɽɑɑ.ɽi wowɑɑwiʔ wowɑɑ.ɽi
child lilɑɑlo ɳiɳɑɑɳo ɽiɽɑɑ.ɽo wiːwɑɑwo wiːwɑɑ.ɽo
company lulɛlɛ ɳuɳɛɳɛ ɽuɽɛ.ɽɛ wuwɛwɛ ɽuɽɛ.ɽɛ
. .
word ləlælə ɳəɳæɳə ɽəɽæ.ɽə wəwæwə wəwæ.ɽə

this is lelu ɳeɳu ɽeɽu wewu ɽewu
the lə ɳə ɽə wɛ wɛɽə
it lɛlɪ ɳɛɳɪ ɽɛɽɪ wɛwiː wɛɽɪ
negate lælɪ ɳæɳɪ ɽæɽɪ wæwiʔ ɽæɽɪ
reverse lɛlɪlɪ ɳɛɳɪɳɪ ɽɛɽɪ.ɽɪ wɛwiːwiː ɽɛɽɪ.ɽɪ
have lolɛlo ɳoɳɛɳo ɽoɽɛ.ɽo wowɛwo wowɛ.ɽo
give lolælele ɳoɳæɳeɳe ɽoɽæ.ɽeɽe wəwewəwə wəwe.wəwə
take lælelo ɳæɳeɳo ɽæɽe.ɽo wæwewo ɽæɽe.ɽo
use lylulilə ɳyɳuɳiɳə ɽyɽu.ɽiɽə wiːwuwiːwə ɽywu.ɽiwə
. .
here lolelæ ɳoɳeɳæ ɽoɽe.ɽæ wowewæ ɽoɽe.ɽæ

there lælelæ ɳæɳeɳæ ɽæɽe.ɽæ wæwewæ ɽæɽe.ɽæ
yonder lulelæ ɳuɳeɳæ ɽuɽe.ɽæ wuwewæ ɽuɽe.ɽæ
in lɪlu ɳɪɳu ɽɪɽu wiʔwu wiʔwu
out lɪlælu ɳɪɳæɳu ɽɪɽæ.ɽu wiːwæwu wiːwæ.wu
up lælɛ ɳæɳɛ ɽæɽɛ wæwɛ ɽæɽɛ
down lilɛ ɳiɳɛ ɽiɽɛ wiːwɛ wiːwɛ
left lɪ ɳɪ ɽɪ wiʔ ɽɪ
right lɛɑ ɳɛɑ ɽɛɑ wɛɑ ɽɛwɑ ɛɑ
go lulelæle ɳuɳeɳæɳe ɽuɽe.ɽæɽe wuwewæwe wuwe.wæwe
stop lɑɑlæle ɳɑɑɳæɳe ɽɑɑɽæ.ɽe wɑɑwæwe wɑɑɽæ.ɽe
fast lælilo ɳæɳiɳo ɽæɽi.ɽo wæwiʔwo ɽæwiʔ.wo
slow lɑɑlɔɑ ɳɑɑɳɔɑ ɽɑɑɽɔɑ wɑɑwɔɑ ɽɑɑɽɔɑ
on lɛlɑɑle ɳɛɳɑɑɳe ɽɛɽɑɑ.ɽe wɛwɑɑwe wɛɽɑɑ.we
dangle from lilɛlæ ɳiɳɛɳæ ɽiɽɛ.ɽæ wiʔwɛwæ ɽiɽɛ.ɽæ
under lɛlilɵ ɳɛɳiɳɵ ɽɛɽi.ɽɵ wɛwiʔwɵ ɽɛɽi.ɽɵ
over lølɛlʁ ɳøɳɛɳʁ ɽøɽɛ.ɽʁ wøwɛwʁ ɽøɽɛ.ɽʁ
. .
because lylɛly ɳyɳɛɳy ɽyɽɛ.ɽy wiʔwɛwiː ɽywɛ.ɽy

remember lilɛlɑ o ɳiɳɛɳɑ o ɽiɽɛ.ɑ ɽo wiʔwɛwɑ o ɽiɽɛ.ɑ wo
know lɪlɪləlo ɳɪɳɪɳəɳo ɽɪɽɪ.ɽəɽo wiʔwiʔwəwo ɽɪwiʔ.ɽəɽo
understand lɪlolilɛlə ɳɪɳoɳiɳɛɳə ɽɪɽo.ɽiɽɛ.ɽə wiʔwowiʔwɛwə wiʔwo.wiʔwɛ.wə
think lolɛlæ ɳoɳɛɳæ ɽoɽɛ.ɽæ wəwiʔwe wəwiʔ.we
believe lolelilo ɳoɳeɳiɳo ɽoɽe.ɽiɽo wowewiʔwo wowe.ɽiɽo
yes lælɹlɪlɪ ɳæɳɹɳɪɳɪ ɽæɽɹ.ɽɪɽɪ wewɹwiːwiʔ ɽæɽɹ.ɽɪɽɪ
no lɛlælɪ ɳɛɳæɳɪ ɽɛɽæ.ɽɪ wiːwewiʔ ɽɛɽæ.ɽɪ
maybe lələlɪ ɳəɳəɳɪ ɽəɽə.ɽɪ wɛwɛwiʔ wɛwɛ.wiʔ
please lɔlælɔ ɳɔɳæɳɔ ɽɔɽæ.ɽɔ wɔwæwɔ wɔwæ.ɽɔ
thank læləly ɳæɳəɳy ɽæɽə.ɽy wæwəwiʔ ɽæɽə.wiʔ
welcome lolilə ɳoɳiɳə ɽoɽi.ɽə wowiːwə woɽi.ɽə
pardon lulilælɛ ɳuɳiɳæɳɛ ɽuɽi.ɽæɽɛ wuwiːwæwɛ ɽuwiː.ɽæwɛ
food lolilɛɑ ɳoɳiɳɛɑ ɽuɽə.ɽe wowiʔwɛɑ ɽuɽə.ɽe
drink lælʁ ɳæɳʁ ɽæɽʁ wæwʁ wæwʁ
toilet lɔlɛlɑ ɔlʁ ɳɔɳɛɳɑ ɔɳʁ ɽɔɽɛ.ɑ ɽɔɽʁ wɔwɛwɑ uwʁ ɽɔɽɛ.ɑ ɽɔɽʁ
bed lulelilo ɳuɳeɳiɳo ɽuɽe.ɽiɽo wɔwəwæwə ɽuɽe.ɽiɽo
help lelælylæle ɳeɳæɳyɳæɳe ɽeɽæ.ɽyɽæ.ɽe wəwewywewə wəɽæ.ɽyɽæ.ɽe

shelter lololɹlo ɳoɳoɳɹɳo ɽoɽo.ɽɹɽo wowowɹwo ɽowo.ɽɹwo
greeting lælolɛlu ɳæɳoɳɛɳu ɽæɽo.ɽɛɽu wæwowɛwu ɽæɽo.ɽɛɽu
parting lælilo ɳæɳiɳo ɽæɽi.ɽo wæwiʔwo wæwiʔ.ɽo
must lylɛlə ɳyɳɛɳə ɽyɽɛ.ɽə wiʔwiʔwɛ wiʔwiʔ.wɛ
need lulɛle ɳuɳɛɳe ɽuɽɛ.ɽe wuwɛwe ɽuɽɛ.we
want læle ɳæɳe ɽæɽe wæwe wæɽe
wish lilu ɳiɳu ɽiɽu wiʔwu ɽiɽu
can lilælu ɳiɳæɳu ɽiɽæ.ɽu wiːwæwu wiːwæ.wu
may luleli ɳuɳeɳi ɽuɽe.ɽi wuwewiː wuwe.wiː
. .
future lɑɑlɑɑlɑɑ ɳɑɑɳɑɑɳɑɑ ɽɑɑɽɑɑ.ɽɑɑ wɑɑwɑɑwɑɑ ɽɑɑɽɑɑ.ɽɑɑ

present lɑɑlolɑɑ ɳɑɑɳoɳɑɑ ɽɑɑɽo.ɽɑɑ wɑɑwowɑɑ wɑɑwo.wɑɑ
past lælilulə ɳæɳiɳuɳə ɽæɽi.ɽuɽə wewæwɔwɛ ɽæɽi.ɽuwɛ
if lælɛ ɳæɳɛ ɽɛɽe wæwɛ wæɽɛ
day lɪlulɛ ɳɪɳuɳɛ ɽɪɽu.ɽɛ wiːwuwɛ wiːɽu.ɽɛ
night lɛlolɛ ɳɛɳoɳɛ ɽɛɽo.ɽɛ wɛwowɛ wɛwo.wɛ
week lilolɛlo ɳiɳoɳɛɳo ɽiɽo.ɽɛɽo wæwəwiːwə wæwə.wiːwə
month lɛlulilo ɳɛɳuɳiɳo ɽɛɽu.ɽiɽo wɛwuwiʔwo ɽɛɽu.ɽiɽo
year lælilo ɳæɳiɳo ɽæɽi.ɽo wewæwə ɽæɽi.ɽo
. .
this lelolo ɳeɳoɳo ɽeɽo.ɽo wəwəwə wəwə.wə

that lælælæ ɳæɳæɳæ ɽæɽe.ɽæ wæwæwæ ɽæɽe.ɽæ
the other lælolɹlæ ɳæɳoɳɹɳæ ɽæɽo.ɽɹɽæ wæwowɹwæ ɽæɽo.ɽɹɽæ
. .
big lylulo ɳyɳuɳo ɽyɽu.ɽo wywɔwə ɽyɽu.wə

small lilelo ɳiɳeɳo ɽiɽe.ɽo wiʔwewo wiʔwe.wo
more læ ɳæ ɽæ wæ wæ
less lelɵ ɳeɳɵ ɽeɽɵ wewɵ weɽɵ
hot lælilɹ ɳæɳiɳɹ ɽæɽi.ɽɹ wæwiʔwɹ wæwiʔ.rɹ
cold lɪlɪ ɳɪɳɪ ɽɪɽɪ wiːwiː ɽɪɽɪ
heavy lælɪ ɳæɳɪ ɽæɽɪ wæwiʔ ɽæɽɪ
lightweight lɛlɹ ɳɛɳɹ ɽɛɽɹ wɛwɹ ɽɛɽɹ
dark lælolu ɳæɳoɳu ɽæɽo.ɽu wewəwɔ wewə.ɽu
lighted lælilɛ ɳæɳiɳɛ ɽæɽi.ɽɛ wæwiːwɛ wæwiː.wɛ
soft ləlɹlælu ɳəɳɹɳæɳu ɽəɽɹ.ɽæɽu wɛwɹwewɔ ɽəɽɹ.ɽæɽu
hard lɵlæ ɳɵɳæ ɽɵɽæ wɵwæ ɽɵɽæ
good lɛlɛlo ɳɛɳɛɳo ɽɛɽɛ.ɽo wɛwɛwo wɛwɛ.wo
bad lɛlælo ɳɛɳæɳo ɽɛɽæ.ɽo wɛwæwo ɽɛɽæ.wo
red lɔlɑ ə ɳɔɳɑ ə ɽɔɽɑ ə wɔwɑ ə ɽɔwɑ ə
orange ləlælæ ɳəɳæɳæ ɽəɽæ.ɽæ wɛwewe wɛwe.we
yellow liløle ɳiɳøɳe ɽiɽø.ɽe wiːwøwe wiːwø.we
green lɹlɔɑ ɳɹɳɔɑ ɽɹɽɔɑ wɹwɔɑ wɹwɔɑ
blue lilɔɑ ɳiɳɔɑ ɽiɽɔɑ wiʔwɔɑ ɽiwɔɑ

purple lɑɑlolɪ ɳɑɑɳoɳɪ ɽɑɑɽo.ɽɪ wɑɑwəwiʔ ɽɑɑɽo.ɽɪ
black lɛləlæ ɳɛɳəɳæ ɽɛɽə.ɽæ wɛwəwæ ɽɛɽə.ɽæ
gray lʁlɔɑ ɳʁɳɔɑ ɽʁɽɔɑ wʁwɔɑ ɽʁɽɔɑ
white lyləlæli ɳyɳəɳæɳi ɽyɽə.ɽæɽi wiʔwəwæwiː ɽyɽə.ɽæɽi
tan lilølɛ ɳeɳɛɳɛ ɽiɽø.ɽɛ wiːwøwɛ wiːwø.wɛ
brown lilølɛɑ ɳiɳøɳɛɑ ɽiɽø.ɽɛɑ wiʔwøwɛɑ wiʔwø.ɽɛɑ
clear lælælɛ ɳæɳæɳɛ ɽæɽæ.ɽɛ wæwæwɛ ɽæɽæ.ɽɛ
. .
few lɪlolu ɳɪɳoɳu ɽɪɽo.ɽu wiʔwowu ɽɪɽo.wu

many lɪlɔ ɳɪɳɔ ɽɪɽɔ wɪwu ɽɪɽɔ
zero lylu ɳyɳu ɽyɽu wiːwu ɽyɽu
one lælæ ɳæɳæ ɽæɽæ wæwæ wæɽæ
two lyly ɳyɳy ɽyɽy wiʔwiː wiʔwiː
three lɛ ɳɛ ɽɛ wɛ ɽɛ
four lɛlu ɳɛɳu ɽɛɽu wɛwu ɽɛwu
five læly ɳæɳy ɽæɽy wæwiʔ ɽæwiʔ
six lylæly ɳyɳæɳy ɽyɽæ.ɽy wiʔwæwiʔ ɽyɽæ.ɽy
seven lilo ɳiɳo ɽiɽo wiːwo wiːɽo
eight lælulu ɳæɳuɳu ɽæɽu.ɽu wewuwɔ wewu.ɽɔ
nine lælɑɑ ɳæɳɑɑ ɽæɽɑɑ wæwɑɑ ɽæwɑɑ
ten lylylu ɳyɳyɳu ɽyɽy.ɽu wiːwiʔwu wiːwiʔ.ɽu
Tones & stresses:
BONUS: a brief overview of the major dialects of Common
Imperial Common, High /p/ /b/ /f/ /f h/ /ʃ/ /ʂ/ V-rounded

Imperial Common, Low /k/ /q/ /f/ /ʃ/ V-rounded
Standard Common /p/ /b/ /f/ /ʃ/ /h/ V-unrounded
While Common does hold a T-V distinction, this is largely lost to Standard Common (throughout the
main continent), holding primarily to Imperial, and even then mostly heard only in High Imperial
Common.
This could have been part of Sonic's issues when adjusting to Friday's speech, which were to
adhered to High Imperial form, but that fell away once I developed that arc further and began to work
with the details.
Author's note:
As I read and re-read it all for editing and cross-continuity, I keep hearing Zelda's speech change.
It evolved from a non-specific accent through bits and pieces of Middle English, affected by the
languages that she acquired in her travels.
Then it changed a bit more as her Tetra seemed to slide toward modern Scouse [Liverpudlian] and
Cornish (don't ask), with hints of Yorkie (you might recall Granville, of “Open All Hours”) and
Geordie. I'm still trying to get my head around just how these came together.
The latest changes have gone a bit north and have her sounding (in my head, at least, and mostly
when she's relaxed as herself around Sonic and Peach) most like Merida, of Disney's “Brave”.
That's what drove the bonus material above on the variations of Common in Light World. High
Imperial Common takes a note from P-Celtic, and Low Imperial Common from Q-Celtic. Right this
second, I don't remember the source of the s-h shift of Standard [continental] Common (maybe an
extreme variant of the satem/centum shift?).
For the record: in my head, this version of Sonic sounds like a very slightly gruffer and less nasal
version of Joe Pesci, and with just a little deeper pitch (which blends in the oddest way with the
demeanor that I feel coming off of him – sort of Robert DeNiro).
Addendum: A note on Dwarven
Too long a story to detail here, suffice it to say that the Dwarves of the Undercold come in small groups
from many other world-ponds. As a consequence, their language and culture is a polyglot
amalgamation of many. I picture it as being fairly simple rules with occasional exceptions, a very
broad lexicon, and a basically Proto-Indo-European flavor.
Come back to:
https://www.reddit.com/r/conlangs/search?q=flair%3ACCC&sort=new&restrict_sr=on&t=all
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Mxmc8zo5Jns
https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCeh-pJYRZTBJDXMNZeWSUVA
https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCMk_WSPy3EE16aK5HLzCJzw
https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCNhX3WQEkraW3VHPyup8jkQ
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QYlVJlmjLEc
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2TtnD4jmCDQ
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bxARj07jFp0
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m8niIHChc1Y
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wtzg5uEpiOI Etruscan sounds
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Grammatical_category for Sheikah?
FAEDAR
https://www.frathwiki.com/Software_tools_for_conlanging
http://www.zompist.com/kit.html
https://conlang.org/
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_2SiY0EF_3E
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nhOhZ5HSd54
https://worldbuilding.stackexchange.com/questions/42369/what-are-some-steps-guidelines-for-making-
a-constructed-language
O ~~~ O
APPENDIX F: Recipes
One of my beta readers (thank you, “Red” / “Bella”) pretty much implored me to put in recipes for
everything that's in this story (see next paragraph, first sentence) – I should say semi-alpha reader, since
she'd only volunteered as a beta but I sent her what I had available back when it was still only alpha
version 0.2-0.25.
Her exact words were: “Take every delicious food thing you mention and add an appendix with
recipes and tone down the food porn a smidge. Seriously, I kept having to stop and find something to
eat because I kept craving whatever random crap you were writing about. Right now I can't decide if I
want Japaneses or German for dinner and trying to resolve the issue is going to lead me into some
wired fusion food hell. Or I will freeze and boot into my default setting which is chilie rellano
burrito.......mmmmmmm.......burrito..........god dammit. AGAIN! <new paragraph> Because of you I
had to take, like three days to learn how to make Chinese Jianbing because I got side tracked while
researching food, because reading your story made me hungry, and YOU LED ME TO THIS!!!!
Dammit Rocky make me food!!! It's hot and I don't feel like cooking!”
I'd love to give you a complete recipe compendium, but I'm afraid that to do so would vastly
increase the total pages – and I'm already uncomfortable enough about the length of the afterword and
the not-strictly-necessary conlang appendix. That being said though, I can't really ignore so
impassioned a plea either, so I'll try for a middle ground, and can only hope that the result suffices for
my more avid foodie fans. Maybe that's a mistake though, so if I get enough feedback saying that the
recipe appendix needs to be bigger, hey, you got it – for now though, we'll see how it goes at this size.
Hell, at this point (having found myself including quite a few cooking details in “Sonic's
Redemption”), maybe I should simply collect all of the references into a cookbook. The thing is that a
surprising number of people have no idea of how cooking is performed – that's not a sneer on my part,
but a very real concern: if you're hungry, and don't know how to turn ingredients into yummy and
healthful meals, then you're stuck going to a diner and hoping that they're open (not to mention paying
a higher price per unit of food). For me, cooking is just something that you learn through observation
throughout your life, and an art and love deep within (though this might come from a love of food and
eating good stuff...). I went through a difficult few years 2012-2017 (and a bit before that, honestly),
and haven't fully returned to cooking, but the joy and inspiration is still in there as manifested in Sonic's
love thereof, and maybe sharing that and these recipes could help someone find their own passion for
it, or at least become more fully self-reliant. :-)
And hey – if you don't know how to cook, then don't be afraid to ASK someone if they'd be willing
to teach you whatever they can. ♥ Will you screw up? Umm, yeah – we all do.
Most important tip? 40°F (4°C) and 140°F (60°C). Basically: keep your cold goods at or below 40°F
(4°C) and heat your hot goods to something above 140°F (60°C). The cold stuff needs to stay cold in
order to retard rotting and bacterial build up (you'll get sick otherwise); the hot stuff needs to get hot in
order to break down proteins into more easily digestible bits and to kill bacterial presence (and the 140
is a starting point: a beef steak can be safe when rare because the outside [where the bacteria were] will
have been cooked without the inside getting very warm at all, ground beef needs thorough cooking due
to everything having been mixed together and exposing it all to escherichia coli; birds and fish don't
much need their proteins broken down (they're not very tough), but simply to kill the campylobacter,
salmonella, and clostridium bacteria [this being due to these bacteria being present throughout the
meat, not merely on the surface]). That being said, don't panic if someone points some sushi at you. :-)
Second-most important tip? Usually toss in your seasonings early – preferably in oil (sometimes
water or alcohol) – in order to let them wend their way into the dish rather than sit as tiny spikes of
flavor. Sometimes this doesn't apply, since it depends upon your goal, but it's generally a rule.
So... here's an alphabetically sequenced reference-index of the foods that really popped out at me
(not all of them either, since that list is several pages longer), followed by recipes for some select
favorites. Sorry for any that didn't make that second cut (or even the first one), but you can easily
Google for a bunch of variations of something missed and come up with a satisfactory comestible. Call
it... an exercise for the reader (though of course, if there's one that you really want but isn't given
below, then yeah, go ahead and ask me and I'll give you what I have for it). ;-)
Also: I tend to toss MSG into almost everything. I didn't list it in any of the recipes, but take it as
gospel: if salt's listed, then that probably rhymes with MSG in approximately equal amounts.
Likewise, if it's a savory dish, then I'd give even odds of having tossed in some Old Bay on general
principle – no specific amount, or guarantee of it even being there at all, just a general mood/inspiration
thing. That goes for the oil-and-seasoning rule too, when I make rice or pasta: odds are that I'll season
these while boiling (and I might not mention that in a given recipe), and I'll typically have thrown some
oil in and mixed it with the seasonings, looking to coat the carbs some – just a bit though, since I don't
care to make it a hassle for them to soak up the necessary water (and this might be an unrealistic
concern, I'll grant).
Which reminds me: I don't play rosemary and thyme as they come; I swear by ground rosemary and
thyme. Why? Well, ask me that after the next time that one of them stabs you in the gums or tongue,
or gets stuck between your teeth.
Finally, if you get a bug up your ass to look into my inspirations, then look up videos (or books, but
for once the video source might be superior) of The Iron Chef (a lot of variety and cuisines, great
ideas), Julia Child (fundamentals are vital), Rachel Ray, and Sunny Anderson. Lesser influences for
me, but still good, are Giada De Laurentis, Paula Dean (not a healthful choice, but yummy), Gordon
Ramsay (somewhat low on my list, yeah, but if you pay attention, then you'll see some good stuff: he's
worth it). Frankly, I've gotten a lot of ideas from random cooking channel shows and YouTube videos,
and a fair number from working my way along various Wikipedia articles (one ingredient leads to
another, then a few recipes, and boom!). Don't be afraid of simply typing some recipe name or
ingredient into Google, either – you can mix and match the basics with bits and pieces from Saveur,
Epicurious, Leisure, AllRecipes, FoodNetwork, restaurants' menus and meal plans, random blogs, and
any other websites that come up.
I don't care if something's fusion or not, though I think that it offers more possibilities to work with
(and I'm firmly against fusion-just-to-be-creative-even-if-the-result-sucks). Maybe you like the
different sources, but prefer to keep individual dishes or meals non-fusion. Find something that sucks,
in your opinion? Good! Take it, shape it, make something new out of it that you like instead!
Sometimes keeping it simple is best (never forget that), other times you have to go all out. Maybe
you're broke, maybe you need a special diet (allergies, diabetes, ethics, religion, etc.), maybe you're
looking for a theme (holidays, or savories, or a particular culture, or some specific ingredient, or a
specific color palette). Start with the familiar or go nuts with ideas that you'd never heard of, it's all
good.
At loss as to where to start? <sigh...> Here, try one of these (and prepare yourself for getting lost in
the stacks...):
< General searches >

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lists_of_foods
https://www.youtube.com/results?search_query=recipe (some of us are more audiovisual than text)
https://www.youtube.com/results?search_query=cooking
https://www.google.com/search?q=restaurant+menu
https://www.google.com/search?q=menu
https://www.google.com/search?q=meal+plan
< Recipe sites >

https://www.5dollardinners.com/recipes/
https://www.allrecipes.com/recipes/
https://www.bhg.com/recipes/
https://www.budgetbytes.com/category/recipes/
https://www.chowhound.com/recipes
https://www.cookingchanneltv.com/recipes
https://cravingtasty.com
https://www.delish.com/cooking/recipe-ideas/
https://dinnerthendessert.com/recipe-index/
http://www.eatingwell.com/
https://www.epicurious.com/search
https://ethnicspoon.com/recipe-index/
https://www.feastingathome.com/recipes/
https://www.foodnetwork.com/recipes
https://www.gimmesomeoven.com/recipe-index/
https://www.the-girl-who-ate-everything.com/category/all-recipes/
https://homemadeandyummy.com/recipes-2/
https://www.leisurearts.com/blog/tag/free-recipes/
http://www.midwestliving.com/search/site/recipes/
https://www.myrecipes.com/recipe-finder
https://cooking.nytimes.com/search
http://www.pbs.org/food/recipes/
https://pickledplum.com/recipe-index/
https://rasamalaysia.com/recipe-index-gallery/
https://www.recipetineats.com/recipes/
https://www.saveur.com/recipes-search
https://www.sbs.com.au/food/recipes/search/advanced
https://www.skinnytaste.com/recipes/
https://www.southernliving.com/search?q=recipe
https://recipes.sparkpeople.com/browse-recipes.asp
https://www.spendwithpennies.com/category/recipes/
https://sweetandsavorymeals.com/recipes/
https://www.tablespoon.com/
https://www.tarladalal.com/RecipeCategories.aspx
https://www.tasteofhome.com/
https://tasty.co/ (slightly pain in the ass drop-down menu)
https://tastykitchen.com/recipes/ (plus a dozen linked sites at the bottom of the page)
https://www.thismamacooks.com/recipes
http://www.whatwereeating.com/recipes/
https://www.williams-sonoma.com/recipe/ (ehh...)
https://www.yummly.com/browse/home (irritating search function – defeat w/ fake e-mail)
< Cooks >

http://www.pbs.org/food/julia-child/
https://www.rachaelray.com/recipes
https://sunnyanderson.com/recipes/
https://www.giadzy.com/posts/recipes
https://www.pauladeen.com/recipes
https://www.gordonramsay.com/gr/recipes/
https://www.jamieoliver.com/recipes/
https://www.marthastewart.com/1505788/recipes
< Companies> (I don't endorse anyone, I'm just giving examples)

https://www.bertolli.com/recipes/
https://www.bettycrocker.com/recipes
https://www.campbells.com/kitchen/recipes/
https://www.generalmillscf.com/browse-recipes
https://www.goya.com/en/recipes
http://hormel.com/Recipes
https://www.kelloggs.com/en_US/recipes.html
https://kikkomanusa.com/homecooks/recipes
https://www.kingsford.com/recipes/
http://www.kraftcanada.com/recipes
https://www.myfoodandfamily.com/recipes/1/recipes (also Kraft / Heinz)
https://www.lachoy.com/recipes (only 111, but decent stuff)
https://www.perdue.com/recipes/
https://www.pillsbury.com/recipes
https://www.progresso.com/recipes/
https://www.sargento.com/recipes
https://www.spicesinc.com/t-recipes.aspx
https://www.tyson.com/recipes/search-results
https://www.verybestbaking.com/ (Nestlé - Toll House / Libby's / Carnation)
<Stores>
https://www.aldi.us/en/recipes/main/
https://www.asdagoodliving.co.uk/food/recipes
https://www.kroger.com/recipes/search
https://www.samsclub.com/content/recipes
https://shop.shoprite.com/store/7ef2370/recipes (multiple store sites, but all w/ same recipe set)
https://www.google.com/search?&q=walmart+recipes (Wal-Mart has multiple recipe sections)
< Broad regions >

http://www.pbs.org/food/cuisine/african/
http://www.congocookbook.com/ (from all around Africa, not solely Congo)
https://www.asian-recipe.com/site-index.html
https://www.delish.com/cooking/g1003/fast-homemade-asian-recipes/
https://damndelicious.net/2016/03/10/15-superfast-asian-inspired-recipes/
https://omnivorescookbook.com/recipes/
https://ikneadtoeat.com/recipe-index/ (Pakistani and Indian)
https://www.foodandwine.com/slideshows/best-southeast-asian
https://www.whiskaffair.com/recipe-index/
https://www.thespruceeats.com/european-food-4162598
https://www.themediterraneandish.com/recipes/
https://www.geniuskitchen.com/topic/polynesian
https://www.recipetineats.com/category/south-american-recipes/
< Cuisines >

https://www.firstnations.org/knowledge-center/recipes/
https://www.thewildwest.org/nativeamericans/nativeamericanrecipes
https://www.desertusa.com/lil/lil-index.html
https://www.sbs.com.au/food/cuisine/australian
http://tasteaustralia.biz/
http://veasnainthekitchen.com/videos-recipes/ (Cambodian: videos w/ text, not just text)
http://caribbeanpot.com/recipe-index/
https://www.simplycaribbean.net/recipes/?v=7516fd43adaa
http://appetiteforchina.com/chinese-recipes
https://www.chinasichuanfood.com/recipe-index/ (Chinese: not just Sichuan)
http://www.thehongkongcookery.com/p/recipe-index.html
http://www.momschinesekitchen.com/ (Chinese: Cantonese)
http://travel.chinavista.com/culture.php
https://thewoksoflife.com/recipe-list/
https://rasamalaysia.com/chinese-food-recipes-chinese-recipes/
https://www.danishnet.com/food/
http://www.mindspring.com/~cborgnaes/
https://www.bonappetit.com/recipes/slideshow/french-recipes
https://germanfoods.org/recipes/
https://www.theomaway.com/german-recipes-traditional/
https://www.dianekochilas.com/greek-recipes
https://hebbarskitchen.com/
https://www.indianhealthyrecipes.com/recipe-index/
https://www.vegrecipesofindia.com/
http://foodviva.com/
https://recipes.timesofindia.com/recipes
http://maunikagowardhan.co.uk/cook-in-a-curry/
https://www.foodandwine.com/italian-recipes
https://www.cookingwithnonna.com/italian-recipes-food-and-cuisine.html
https://www.japanesecooking101.com/
https://www.japancentre.com/en/cookings/61-japanese-meals
https://www.bbcgoodfood.com/recipes/collection/japanese
https://www.themediterraneandish.com/recipes/
https://www.asian-recipe.com/mongolia
http://www.mymoroccanfood.com/all-recipes
http://www.outside-oslo.com/recipes/
https://polishhousewife.com/polish-recipes/
http://www.olgasflavorfactory.com/category/recipes/russianrecipes/
http://www.ruscuisine.com/recipes/
https://www.spain-recipes.com/
https://www.tienda.com/recipes/index.html
http://www.swedishfood.com/classics
https://www.eatingthaifood.com/thai-recipes/
https://www.hungryhuy.com/recipes/vietnamese/
https://www.seriouseats.com/recipes/topics/cuisine/asian/vietnamese
http://www.vickypham.com/recipes-by-categories
< From the vaults > (don't overlook old sources' potential)
http://www.oldcook.com/en/cooking-recipes_medieval
http://medievalcookery.com/recipes/
http://www.godecookery.com/mtrans/mtrans.htm
https://www.atlasobscura.com/articles/historic-istanbul-restaurant
ADDENDUM:
If you're interested in “exotic” meats (ostrich [extremely lean stuff: you'll have to add fat or grease
to it, believe me], buffalo, elk, 'gator [extremely fatty stuff, from my understanding], etc.), then you
might want to check out a couple of old blog write-ups that I put together for comparing and
contrasting various meat shippers' prices. The prices have likely changed over the years, and perhaps
the suppliers too, but it gives you a starting point to work from.
https://rocksrecipes.blogspot.com/2011/01/eat-meat-exotic-meat-shippers-online.html
https://rocksrecipes.blogspot.com/2011/01/deer-and-elk-meat-cuts-prices.html
I recently ran into one that I didn't remember from before, so I thought that I'd add a comment on
them here after double-checking to see if I weren't misremembering... and found that my original blog
entry had quite a few more listed than I'd recalled (I had only reviewed shipping on five companies).
The upshot is, here's the list for your immediate review (you can still read the blog article, obviously,
but a quick reference list here could be of more immediate value), with notes from that time
(presumably still accurate, but keep in mind that they could well have changed over the past 8½ years):
https://www.exoticmeatmarkets.com/ (this being the “new” one)
http://www.elkusa.com/?gclid=CKLvwsbv5ZwCFURR2godJB7cQw (venison, elk, & buffalo)

http://smgfoods.com/ (wide variety)
http://www.brokenarrowranch.com/Shop-Main.htm (several)
http://miva.fossilfarmsostrich.com/mm5/merchant.mvc?Screen=SFNT&Store_Code=ff (wide variety)
http://www.underhillfarms.com/products/products.html (several)
http://www.savorygourmetlititz.com/573/594.html (they might not ship their meats)

http://bisonridgemeats.com/ (bison)
http://www.healthybuffalo.com/ (several)
http://www.duffmeats.com/store.php (bison & elk)
http://www.buffalogal.com/Search.aspx (buffalo)
http://www.buffalohillsbisonmeat.com/ (buffalo)
http://www.northstarbison.com/category.aspx?zcid=151 (variety)
http://www.gedaliascompany.com/goatmeat.aspx (goat)
http://www.venisonamerica.com/products/exotic.html (wide variety)
https://choicefilets.com/home.php (normal stuff)
http://www.tenderfilet.com/home.jsp (normal stuff)
http://www.omahasteaks.com/servlet/OnlineShopping?Dsp=36&RAND=ZA4318 (normal stuff)
http://www.ysdecision.com/products.asp (elk)
https://www.cbcrabcakes.com/
https://www.hancockgourmetlobster.com/
https://www.wisconsincheeseman.com/
http://www.crownbluebison.com/
http://www.nwwildfoods.com/index.php (plus honeys, berries, jams, & mushrooms)
http://www.texasgrassfedbeef.com/you_too_can_eat_healthy_beef.htm (several)
http://www.niobraravalleybison.com/
http://www.grassfedtraditions.com/
http://beechhillbison.com/buy_buffalo_meat1.html
http://www.silverbison.com/
http://www.cowboyfreerangemeat.com/ (small variety)
http://www.jhbuffalomeat.com/shop.php (small variety)
http://lobels.com/index.asp (normal)
Apparently, that's as far as I got before simply giving up. There were more, and presumably more
have since come into existence (or gone out of business) since then, but this should be a good starting
point for meats.
Without even bothering with so much as a simple 5-second Google, I'm sure that a similarly large
list could easily be drawn up for grains, vegetables, fruit, etc. from around the world.
So... what are you waiting for? :-)
I N D E X
Bold font = recipes given

Bold with yellow highlighting = awaiting recipe
Italic font = merely indexed for your quick-reference (Google a bit, then mix-n-match)
Agua fresca
Apple cobbler
Arroz con gandules
Beef Stroganov with smetana atop egg noodles
Beef Wellington
Baklavá
Bacon rashers
Bagna càuda
Baked potatoes, pre-soaked with garlic butter and coated with coarse salt
Budae jjigae and okonomiyaki
Cannoli
Carrot-date-nut banana-granola bread – blank entry
Cherry cheesecake
Cherry tart
Chicken cordon bleu with shiitake
Chicken with mango and habanero, cilantro, and a dash of cinnamon
Chicken noodle soup with ham, split peas, and boiled peanuts
Cornbread, butter-drenched
Coquito
Crab bisque with shallots, chervil, capers, and floating a teaspoon of ikura
* a modified version of Red Lobster's bisque (their recipe, plus my own addenda mentioned above)
“Curry” (roughly the garam masala sauce that you find in mattar paneer)
Dolmades
Duck à l'orange with tomato-cheese bread
Duck with a honeyed brown Dijon and artichoke hearts
Eggnog
English muffins with turkey and cheese
Fettuccine carbonara con pesto
Fritata
Fudge
Grape nut bread
Grape nut porridge
Ham-swiss-mushroom casserole
Kālua pork (what Sonic wanted instead of the yearling boar)
Kidney bean stew (slumgullion)
Kielbasa and garlic noodles
La cage au bullion
Lemon meringue
Linguine al triplo burro, with tuna and clams
Lughnasadh pie
Matar paneer masala
Moussaká
Mulled wine
Oat cakes with jam and clotted cream
Paella
Pancit
Pasteles
Pernil asado
Plátanos maduros
Pot roast, medium-spicy
Potatoes au gratin
Pumpkin soup and honey oat bread
Quiche Lorraine
Rabbit and pheasant
Risotto e porcini al Parmigiano-Reggiano doppio
Salmon, richly marbled
Salmon pâté
Spaghetti al ragù alla bolognese
Spinakopita
Stuffed peppers
Stuffed pumpkin
Stuffing
Tenderloin [braised] (with or without lobster) in Roquefort beurre noisette
Tomatoes Caprese
Tortellini di gamberi in burro di pomodoro e calamari à la marinara
Tostones
Triple fried egg sandwiches with chili and chutney
Trout à la crème
Tuna-squid rolls
R E C I P E S
Arroz con gandules

I'd like to claim credit for this one, but I have no idea of whether it's mine or not, or if I even
tweaked someone else's a bit (in which case I could at least claim partial credit, but only partial). I do
think that using a packet each of the different sazóns might be my own spin, but that's still really just a
guess. Regardless of its recipe's origin though, I can totally vouch for it tasting great.
The last time that I made it was 2010-2011. Gotta get back to cooking again, one of these days...
Cook time minimum 1 hr (but best if simmered 24 hours)

Serves 4
2 cans gandules
¼-½ cup minced onion (dried onion is just fine)
2 tbsp minced garlic (jarred works great, and takes way less effort than peeling and crushing)
≤2 packets sazón
(preferably 1 jamón & 1 con culantro y achiote [sin achiote's perfectly O.K. too])
2-4 tbsp sofrito
4 oz ready-to-eat chorizo (chop it fine: to chunks equiv. to ½ cm cubes)
NOTE 1: I'm sure that I've thrown in a bit of recaíto and adobo, but apparently they're not in here.
NOTE 2: Some savory might go well here, too, and a dash of Cholula?
NOTE 3: I have another recipe that I haven't tried, but it includes diced bell pepper, chicken broth,
cumin, coriander, and lime; sounds good, so you might want to throw those in here, too. (I'd go light
on the cumin or skip it altogether, but that's only because my first wife's father's sister used to use it so
much that we got a bit burned out to the flavor.)
~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~
2 cups rice
~5-10 threads saffron (maybe more – more saffron is always good)
½ tsp safflower (totally unnecessary, but really helps with the presentation)
Throw all of the first bunch of stuff together and heat it (being sure to keep sufficient water added, if
needed, to avoid it drying up, much less burning).
Note: the saffron's not necessary, so don't sweat it if you don't have any (if you use enough of it on
a regular basis, then it'll eat into your wallet – the shit cost ~1/2 the price of gold at 2011 prices
[depending upon where you buy the saffron, anyway], though gold's now [2018] up at 5x saffron's price
per gram – but it really does make a delicious difference in the final flavor).
Ditto for the rice ingredients (in case you don't have one already: an automatic rice cooking pot
would help you immensely. If you typically eat a lot of rice, then it's a must-have item).
Bagna càuda
Budae jjigae and okonomiyaki

Ever been broke and starving? You eat whatever's available. You can get pretty damned creative
when it comes to making something edible out of damned near nothing.
That's what these are: a Korean stew made of scraps of Army handouts, and a Japanese fried object
that makes me think (in a good way) of the last scraps in the pantry in the middle of winter (though it
apparently has a rather less desperate history than that).
Budae jjigae:
12 oz udong-myeon (noodles, like udon or linguine)

1 cup quinoa
1 cup kimchi
1 handful of scallions
some sliced sausage
1 cup beans
1 lb tofu, diced
8 oz button mushrooms
8 oz water chestnuts
8 oz bamboo shoots
1 lb cassava, diced
16 oz stewed tomatoes
2 Tbsp miso flavoring
3 Tbsp chili powder
4 oz nori
2 Tbsp minced garlic
1-2 mandarin orange(s)
4 slices cheese
It's a stew – a Korean stew in particular, but... still just a stew.

There's no “official” set of ingredients beyond what you can get your hands on, so I took a bunch of
relevant ingredients that should work together, then made a few changes for nutrition and flavor – BUT
I HAVEN'T TRIED IT YET. I've worked with quinoa, and it should go well here, but I don't remember
for sure if I've worked with cassava or not, so I can't guarantee that one.
Throw the ingredients (EXCEPT for the slices of cheese and orange) into the pot, hit the heat, and
wait.
Throw a slice or two of mandarin orange and cheese into each bowl when serving.
Okonomiyaki:
Right guys, this isn't my own recipe (aside from a couple of notes that I added). Mine (based upon
what they gave you at Dohtonbori) went out the window around 2006-2008 with my Palm Pilot, but
this one’s a pretty close recreation of that. The funny part is that I was looking for my old mushroom
risotto recipe (and instead found a meal plan that I’d worked out for chicken with spinach, risotto
Florentine [debated pilaf], and crème brûlée), failed entirely (it probably died with my last laptop,
~2015/2016), and ended up spying this little gem.
Okonomiyaki (the particular example in this case being Hiroshimayaki) is often referred to as
“Japanese pancakes”. They’re not. Not even remotely pancakes, beyond both having some
carbohydrates involved. They’re slightly closer to omelettes or breakfast burritos (in layers, rather than
rolled together), but even these would be horrific misnomers. Whatever you wish to call them though,
they’re tasty as hell. <3
Serves ~2-3:
Ingredients:
½ cup flour (yam flour, preferably)
½ cup water (or dashi soup stock?)
1 egg
--------------------------------------------
2 cups shredded cabbage
¼ cup bean sprouts
¼ cup shredded green onions
NOTE: I wonder if sesame oil might not go amiss here...
--------------------------------------------
4-5 bacon strips
--------------------------------------------
1 cup boiled/steamed yakisoba (soba: noodles)
--------------------------------------------
1 egg (uncooked)
--------------------------------------------
Okonomi sauce, to taste (go to the store for that one; yakisoba or tonkatsu sauce can substitute)
Katsuobushi, to taste (basically: fish shavings [it resembles pencil-sharpener shavings])
Furikake, to taste (confetti-like seaweed powder, ~1mm2)
NOTE: often some mayonnaise and/or 2-3 wafers of ginger (or a spoon or two, if shredded) are
also included at this point
==========================
PREP WORK:
You NEED a VERY broad spatula for this.
Mix flour, water, eggs, and yam flour to form a thin gruel-like crêpe-batter.
Prepare the vegetables as a tossed-salad looking mix of fine-shredded cabbage, bean sprouts, and
green onions.
Boil/steam the soba (noodles).
COOKING:
Onto a medium-heated griddle, dole out ~10” diameter pool of batter — it will cook rapidly, so
immediately pile on a handful of cabbage. NOTE: This is when you might sprinkle on some sesame
oil.
Ladle a thinnish layer of batter (crêpe-thin) onto the cabbage, and flip the whole over to cook that
layer, and press it firmly to the griddle.
Lay on the bacon, with another thin coat of batter, and flip/press again.
Lay on a handful of soba. At the same time, pour the egg onto the griddle (break the yolk or not, to
taste), allowing it to partially cook (so that it’s slightly manageable, but still runny enough to sink into
the soba), then spatula it onto the soba (NOTE: you might also consider sesame oil, here), and flip the
whole yet again, pressing down some more.
Transfer to plate, the whole being ~1”-2” thick.
Coat (to taste) with okonomi sauce. If you haven’t had it before, give it a quick taste — it’s a bit
strong and somewhat salty. NOTE: this is when you would normally add a light drizzle of mayonnaise.
Sprinkle with furikake and seaweed, to taste. NOTE: top with 2-3 wafers of ginger (or a spoon or
two, if shredded), if desired.
Repeat for next serving.
Carrot-date-nut banana-granola bread with ginger and blackstrap molasses

Sadly, this one entry must remain a blank – but I couldn't mention it and then risk leaving anyone
frustrated by not at least leaving an explanation: it's just an idea that I have, and have been toying with
for a while, but have never experimented with. Sorry! :-(
Cherry cheesecake
I've never made one myself, but if I found a decent duplicate of what they do at Junior's (downtown
Brooklyn), so you're in for some damned good shit. The one below (from Epicurious) was apparently
reprinted (with permission) from Junior's Home Cooking, so I'm guessing that it's the real deal (though
even if it is, your own taste preferences might differ).
They don't go into the cherry (or other) topping, so we're left to guess on our own on that one, but a
12.5 oz can of cherry pie filling is probably a good start (and might even be more than you need).
The cake must be refrigerated overnight before serving, so plan accordingly.
Total: 2 hrs 30 mins (+ overnight)

Prep: 30 mins
Cook: 2 hrs
Chill: overnight
Yield: 1 Cheesecake (20-24 servings)
Ingredients
Directions for a 9-inch Cheesecake:
Sponge Cake Crust

Softened unsalted butter (for buttering the pan)
1⁄3 cup sifted cake flour
3⁄4 teaspoon baking powder
Pinch of table salt
2 extra-large eggs (separated)
1⁄3 cup sugar
1 teaspoon vanilla
2 drops pure lemon extract
2 tablespoons unsalted butter (melted)
1⁄4 teaspoon cream of tartar
Cheesecake Batter
4 (8-ounce) packages Philadelphia cream cheese (use only full fat, at room temperature)
1 2⁄3 cups sugar
1⁄4 cup cornstarch
1 tablespoon vanilla
2 extra-large eggs
3⁄4 cup heavy whipping cream
_____________________________________
Directions for an 8-inch Cheesecake:
Sponge Cake Crust

Softened unsalted butter (for buttering the pan)
1⁄4 cup sifted cake flour
1/2 teaspoon baking powder
Pinch of table salt

2 extra-large eggs (separated)
1⁄4 cup sugar
3/4 teaspoon vanilla
2 drops pure lemon extract
2 tablespoons unsalted butter (melted)
1⁄4 teaspoon cream of tartar
Cheesecake Batter
3 (8-ounce) packages Philadelphia cream cheese (use only full fat, at room temperature)
1 1/3 cups sugar
3 tablespoons cornstarch
1 tablespoon vanilla
2 extra-large eggs
2/3 cup heavy whipping cream
_____________________________________
_____________________________________
_____________________________________
Steps to Make It
Note: while there are multiple steps to this recipe, this cheesecake is broken down into workable
categories to help you better plan for preparation and baking.
Make the Sponge Cake Crust
1 Gather the ingredients.
2 Heat the oven to 350 F.
3 Generously butter the bottom and side of a 9- or 8-inch springform pan, preferably a nonstick one.
Wrap the outside with aluminum foil, covering the bottom and extending it all the way up the side.
4 In a small bowl, sift the flour, baking powder, and salt together.
5 In a large bowl, using an electric mixer, beat the egg yolks on high for 3 minutes.
6 With the mixer running, slowly add 2 tablespoons of the sugar and continue beating until thick, light
yellow ribbons form in the bowl, about 5 minutes more.
7 Then, beat in the extracts.
8 Sift the flour mixture over the batter and stir it in by hand, just until there are no remaining white
flecks.
9 Blend in the melted butter.
10 In another clean bowl, using clean, dry beaters, beat the egg whites and cream of tartar together on
high until frothy.
11 Gradually add the remaining sugar and continue beating until stiff peaks form (the whites will stand
up and look glossy, not dry).
12 Fold about 1/3 of the whites into the batter, then the remaining whites. Don’t worry if you still see a
few white specks, as they’ll disappear during baking.
13 Gently spread the batter over the bottom of the prepared pan and bake just until set and golden (not
wet or sticky), about 10 minutes. Touch the cake gently in the center. If it springs back, it’s done. Watch
carefully and don’t let the top brown.
14 Leave the crust in the pan and place on a wire rack to cool. Leave the oven on while you prepare
the batter for the cheesecake.
_____________________________________
Make the Cheesecake Batter
1 Gather the ingredients.
2 In a large bowl, using an electric mixer fitted with the paddle attachment, if your mixer has one, beat
1 package of the cream cheese, 1⁄3 cup of the sugar, and the cornstarch together on low until creamy,
about 3 minutes, scraping down the bowl several times.
3 Blend in the remaining cream cheese, one package at a time, beating well and scraping down the
bowl after each.
4 Increase the mixer speed to medium and beat in the remaining sugar, then the vanilla.
5 Blend in the eggs, one at a time, beating well after each.
6 Beat in the cream just until completely blended. The filling will look light, creamy, airy, and almost
like billowy clouds. Be careful not to over-mix. Gently spoon the batter over the crust.
7 Place the cake pan in a large shallow pan containing hot water that comes halfway (about 1-
inch) up the side of the springform.
Always bake the cheesecake in a water bath as they do at Junior’s. It keeps the heat in the oven
moist and helps the cake bake slowly, gently, and evenly. It also helps to ensure that your cake will
have a smooth top, with no large cracks.
8 Bake until the edge is light golden brown, the top is light gold, and the center barely jiggles, about 1
1⁄4 hours. If the cake still feels soft around the edge, let it bake for 10 minutes more (the cooking time
will be about the same for both the 8- and 9-inch cheesecakes).
9 Remove the cheesecake from the water bath, transfer to a wire rack, and let cool for 2 hours (just
walk away -- don’t move it).
10 Then, leave the cake in the pan, cover loosely with plastic wrap, and refrigerate until completely
cold before serving, preferably overnight or for at least 6 hours.
_____________________________________
To Serve
1 Release and remove the side of the springform, leaving the cake on the bottom of the pan.
2 Place on a cake plate. Refrigerate until ready to serve.
3 Slice with a sharp straight-edge knife, not a serrated one, rinsing the knife with warm water between
slices.
4 Refrigerate any leftover cake, tightly covered, and enjoy within 2 days, or wrap and freeze for up to
1 month.
Cherry tart
This one is the result of my first wife misreading a line in the original recipe (it said ½ cup of sugar,
she misread it at 1½ cups). I figured screw it, let's try it anyway. No big deal.
The result was fantastic (mind you, the “correct” recipe was good stuff, too). Nice crisp crust with a
little sugar glazing to it. Extra-sweet filling without having become overpoweringly so.
So, there's a yummy lesson for you: feel free to screw up when you're cooking; yeah, sure, it could
easily come out complete crap, but sometimes the results are worth any number of flops. <3
1 cup butter
1 ½ cup sugar
4 eggs
1 tsp almond extract
2 cups flour
2 tsp baking powder
21 oz. can (x1) cherry pie filling
Preheat oven to 350°.

Grease 9x13 pan.
Mix all ingredients except pie filling.
Pour into greased pan.
Spoon pie filling in 16 spots.
Bake for 45-50 minutes.
Chicken cordon bleu
Chicken, mango habanero
Crab bisque with shallots, chervil, capers, and floating a teaspoon of ikura
* a modified version of Red Lobster's bisque (their recipe, plus my own addenda mentioned above)
I love Red Lobster's bisque. It has this flavor and texture combination that just makes my tongue
dance with pleasure. If I were to make it at home, then I'd be one happy camper... but I'd be tempted to
play with it. Here's their recipe with my proposed modifications for your own experimentation (from
https://web.archive.org/web/20131203130526/https://www.redlobster.ca/kitchen/recipes/lobster-bisque-
recipe.asp ):
Serves 4
Ingredients:
6 cups Water
2 cups Dry white wine
2 cups Fish stock
2 each 1¼ to 1½ lbs. live lobster
1/2 cup Melted butter, salted
1 cup Onions, finely diced
1/2 cup Carrots, finely diced
1/2 cup Celery, finely diced
1 tsp. Garlic, minced
1/2 cup All-purpose flour
1/4 cup Cognac (or Brandy)
1½ cups Tomatoes, seeded and diced (fresh or canned)
1 tsp. Paprika
1/2 tsp. Thyme
1/4 tsp. Ground red pepper
1 cup Heavy cream
*****
1 to 2 whole shallot(s) – with a cup of onions already, this should be a safe amount to start from
1/2 tsp. chervil
1 tsp. capers
1/2 to 1 tsp. ikura (salmon eggs: red caviar) across surface of each bowl before serving
Preparation:
Place the water, the white wine and the fish stock into a wide, deep pot (or a Dutch oven), and bring
to a boil on high heat.
Place lobsters, topside down, in the broth. Reduce heat to medium and cook covered for
approximately 6 minutes. With a pair of tongs, turn lobsters and cook covered for another 6 minutes.
Remove lobsters from broth and put them to the side. When the lobsters are cool enough to handle,
begin removing the meat from the shell, dicing the pieces into 1/2-inch cubes. Store the lobster meat in
the refrigerator until later. Place the lobster shells back into the broth, reduce heat to a simmer and cook
uncovered for 20 minutes.
Strain the broth through a sieve into a container and store in the refrigerator until later. Discard the
lobster shells.
Put your pot (or Dutch oven) back on the stove under medium heat. Pour in the melted butter.
Once the butter is heated up, add the onions, carrots, celery and garlic and shallots. Sautee for 3 to 4
minutes.
Add the cognac (or brandy) and cook until the alcohol has evaporated.
Mix in the flour, stirring with a heavy gauge spatula or spoon until the mixture is blond in color and
has a buttery aroma.
Mix the diced tomatoes, paprika, thyme and ground pepper and chervil and capers with the cold
broth from the refrigerator. Then, pour the broth slowly into the butter and vegetable mixture. Cook
uncovered for 30 minutes under medium low heat, stirring frequently so not to burn.
Remove bisque from heat. Blend small amounts of bisque in blender and then puree. Puree all of the
bisque and pour pureed bisque back into pot with remaining amount.
Add chopped lobster meat and heavy cream, heat and serve with ikura sprinkled across each bowl.
If the soup is too thick, thin it by adding milk or water prior to serving.
Chef's Tip:
Adding a touch of brandy or sherry to the stock can bring a wonderful touch to this classic lobster
bisque recipe.
Beverage suggestions:
Chardonnay, Cambria Katherine's Vineyard
Variations (from various other websites' recipes)

• To have a bisque that is more traditionally textured, include the lobster meat in the bisque
before pureeing. This will make the soup much thicker, so add 1 cup milk to the soup before blending.
• To make the soup spicier, add 2 teaspoons cayenne pepper.
• For a smoked bisque version, replace the sweet paprika with smoked paprika. To make up for
the reduced sweetness, add 1 teaspoon white sugar to the bisque.
• Replace the thyme with chopped, fresh tarragon for a fresher tasting bisque. The black pepper
[that source had used 1/2 tsp.] can also be replaced with ground white pepper [I've also seen “a pinch
of cayenne” listed, so ~1/16 – ~1/8 tsp.].
• For a very elegant dish, garnish each serving of bisque with a dollop of sour cream, or for
something truly decadent, a spoonful of creme fraiche, which is richer tasting and thicker than sour
cream. For a final flourish, add a 1 teaspoon drizzle of truffle oil [be careful there].
• [Healthy replacements]: {all-purpose flour → chickpea flour}; {heavy cream → full fat
coconut milk}; remove the butter; blend to thicken, rather than add even more flour; reduce sodium
by removing a lot of the salt; replace the sherry with dry white wine and low sodium chicken broth.
• Lump crab meat can substituted for the lobster meat but the soup is also delicious made only
with shrimp.
• Clam juice and tarragon, walleye, saffron, cumin, ½ tsp. Worcestershire, a few TBLSP. tomato
paste, and roasted tomatoes have also been mentioned in several other variations.
“Curry” (roughly the garam masala sauce that you find in mattar paneer)
While I was stationed in Japan, I used to eat curried rice at CoCo ICHIbanya constantly. If you've
ever eaten there, then you know the pangs of missing it now; if you've never had the pleasure, I can't
describe it, though I should try. It's a rich, thick, dark reddish-brown curry that can land anywhere on
the scale from nice-but-boring (0 or 1 on their scale, I don't recall) through good-flavor-but-pleasantly-
hot (3 or 4) right up to dear-God-what-is-that-thing-?!? (10 – and incidentally, I'd do 4 but preferred
3s, and I like spice a whole lot [I munch on habaneros straight, m'kay?]).
Since I don't live in any of the places where they have branches (four in Los Angeles and four in
Hawaiʻi, the rest are all over Asia, though Google shows one in London and another in Den Hague
[I've been to both, and I missed out?!?] – at least as I write this in Dec 2018), I've missed it for a while.
Well, sorta... while I was in England, I discovered S&B Golden Curry, and it amazed me how much it
was like little cubes of gelled CoCo bullion in a box! S&B is a damned good substitute.
Eventually life took a little turn, and I set aside curried dishes (and life in general) for a while.
Recently I visited a friend in West Virginia (Jo, this is your mention here!), and she made some
curry. She used Sharwood's powder, and the flavor was so right... though it's been so long since CoCo,
or even S&B, that I can't say how close to those it is or isn't.
Well, it turns out that you can get CoCo via Amazon (and presumably elsewhere); it's $35 for a pack
of 4 plates' worth of curry, and there's a difference between shipping from Amazon (no spice shaker
[jikiden? $13.25 for 43 g of seasonings]) vs. direct from Japan (includes spice seasoning). Probably
well worth the price, if you can afford it.
That got me thinking. There are really dead-on copycat recipes (and even the actual originals) all
over the internet these days (the Gen-X crowd and back will remember the dark ages of the '90s and
earlier). I Googled. I found S&B's powder's ingredients (though not the exact ratios, of course), and
Sharwood's, and two CoCo copycat recipes. Hoping to work out a decent fake of CoCo (I'm not trying
for authentic Indian curry powders, just a good homebrew of CoCo), I compared them – notice the top
4 items in both S&B and Sharwood's (and most curry powder recipes, and the bottom two in a typical
garam masala)?
Now, I checked into the cubes, and they're a little less specific: “Wheat flour, edible oils (palm oil,
canola oil), salt, sugar, curry powder, spices, caramel color, monosodium glutamate (flavor
enhancer), malic acid.”
Setting aside the cubes' other ingredients, there's at least the fact of the salt and sugar before the
curry powder and spices, and the MSG two items later.
That kind of changes the balance of flavors a bit: just in case you don't already know, ingredients
lists first show what there is the most of, then what there's a little less of, and so on down the line. This
means that however much curry powder is in the cubes, there's more sugar than curry powder, and
more salt than sugar; the same goes for there being more curry powder than “spices” or MSG.
Let's simply stick to analyzing S&B's curry powder.
If every single ingredient were equally present, then they'd each occupy 6.25% of the contents (i.e.:
1/16 each; that's one part in sixteen because there are 16 ingredients listed).
Given the fact that S&B's powder doesn't say “less than 2% of the following ingredients” at any
point, we know that even the very last item in their powder should be at least 2% of the contents.
By the nature of ingredients lists first showing what there's the most of, and then what there's second
most of, etc., we can surmise that even if all but the first item (turmeric) were exactly 2%, then that first
one must be 70% (since there is a total of 15 other items: 15 * 2% = 30%, and 100% - 30% = 70%).
With the strong similarities of S&B's and Sharwood's first four ingredients, probably all four of
these are salient (the next several are likely fairly salient too, but less so than these four), so let's focus
on the special case of the first four being maxed out without the remaining 12 dropping below 2% –
this would necessitate the first four comprising some mix of 76% of the contents, so at most that'd be
19% cumin and so forth (basically, this would be ten parts each for the first four items, and one part
each for the other 12 items).
The odds are that the top four aren't equally distributed, so it's probably something closer to
{turmeric 30%, coriander 20%, fenugreek 11%, cumin 7%}, but that's just a ballpark range (and
honestly, I'd say that there's more than 2% [let's guess maybe 4-ish%?] for red pepper, black pepper,
cinnamon, and ginger – probably the rest, too, but I'm less sure of those, and their percentages are
necessarily less substantial as you go to lower-listed items). Since not everyone's math is up to it, that's
close enough to: 3 parts turmeric, 2 parts coriander, 1 part fenugreek, 1 part cumin, half (½) of a part
each for {the peppers, cinnamon, and ginger}, and one fourth (¼) of a part each for the remaining 8
items. While a fair amount of cloves wouldn't surprise me, I'm kind of leery of the idea of much anise
being present – I keep thinking more of ouzo than of CoCo, so I'm guessing that the anise is only
slightly present (and even less so for the later items).
Addendum: I've read that asafoetida might well be somewhat important (not necessarily key, but
still...). I'd swear that I've had it in my cabinet before, but I'm equally sure that I've never used it. I'll
have to get some and see how that goes. Until then, I can't recommend for or against, so read up and
consider it.
So, armed with this strong similarity between S&B and Sharwood's, the guess-timated percentages
of S&B powder's ingredients, and the following recipe, maybe I'll give it a go at some point and
experiment with the ingredients a bit – and maybe you'll satisfy a long-standing need for CoCo, too. :-)
Also, I might suggest looking into the marinade for chicken tikka masala, if you're going to throw
chicken strips into the mix, but the sauce alone should work absolute miracles, so this is probably
irrelevant. Of course, I'd probably prefer any meat to be along the lines of roghan gošt (though there's a
good argument in favor of nasi kandar) but now we're really going off track.
Sauce:
1 TB vegetable oil
1 onion chopped
5 cloves whole garlic, peeled
1 carrot peeled and chopped

2 TB all purpose flour
1 TB HOT curry powder (you can use mild if you prefer)
2 1/2 cups chicken broth
1 TB soy sauce
2 tsp honey
1/2 tsp garam masala
Chicken:
1 Cup Rice
1 Cup Flour
2 Large Eggs, beaten
4 Chicken Breasts
1 1/2 cups panko style breadcrumbs
1/8tsp cayenne pepper
salt and pepper to taste
Shredded Cheddar for topping
1/2 cup vegetable oil for frying
Side notes:
– Someone said that it had come out thin, and so they'd thickened it with “2 tbls cornstarch and 6 tbls
cold water.” (I'd probably do this too, since I favor thicker, gloppy curried sauces)
– Someone else said “Get rid of the honey. Use a sweet apple instead. Honey is not used in CoCo's
recipe, it's always apple.”
– A third mentioned that they'd varied it with “Coconut milk (unsweetened) and 1 Tbs of Better than
Bouillon chicken or beef in place of stock (Coco's uses beef).”
– And a fourth suggested “Add 1 tsp Worcestershire sauce and 1 Tbs Curry Roux with the liquids.”
– My own suggestion is to add a few splashes of champagne to the sauce; it needn't be particularly
good champagne, nor much of it (maybe an ounce or three?), but it really makes the flavors come to
life in your mouth!
For the sauce:

● Heat the oil in a pan. Add the onion and garlic and sauté for 2 minutes, then add the carrot and
cook slowly for 10 minutes, with the lid on, stirring occasionally.
● Stir in the flour and curry powder and cook for one minute. Add the chicken stock, then the soy
sauce and the honey.
● Bring to the boil. Reduce the heat, and simmer for 20 minutes.
● Add the garam masala and pass through a sieve to make a smooth sauce.
For the chicken:

● Lay the (seasoned) flour, egg and breadcrumbs on to separate plates. Coat the chicken with the
flour, the egg and the breadcrumbs.
● Heat the oil in a frying pan, then fry the chicken for 5 minutes on each side.
● Remove from the pan and drain on kitchen paper.
● Serve on rice with the sauce on top.
Duck à l'orange with tomato-cheese bread

Now, while I know that I've done duck, and I know that I've done chicken à la orange, I don't
remember having specifically done duck à la orange. Meh, should be fine (probably my epitaph...),
though I think that it might go best with pheasant (decent flavor, just about the right greasiness-level
for me); I don't remember if I've had (much less cooked) quail or not, so I can't say for sure on that, but
the back of my head is nagging at me to consider that option too. I definitely wouldn't bother trying
this with goose – it'd probably go absolutely great, mind you, it's just that it's really be a huge hassle,
and they're already insanely juice-filled, plus you'd probably need to triple or quadruple the recipe.
Word of heads-up: duck's a really heavy meat; I don't mean gut-filling, I mean dense as hell, and
maybe just a little bit sorta-dry seeming.
I might have modified this recipe from whatever I originally found (in fact, it's pretty damned likely
that I did), but it's not my own original recipe (unless any modification(s) qualify as making it my
own).
THIS IS ABSOLUTELY NOT A RECIPE TO TRY IF YOU'RE A NOVICE COOK!
I've made this a few times, and far more by luck (and O.C.D.) than by skill did I manage to not
screw it all up (though I did rush once and the sauce really didn't turn out all that good).
NOTES: skipped wine & salad; sub’d kippered herring for caviar, sub’d salad dressing for sour
cream; skipped asparagus & potatoes; dashed some minced garlic into rice; skipped bread & dessert.
Used leaves/etc. not sprigs; orange zest & lime juice not squeezed oranges & wedges; dried onion
flakes not onion; no carrots; celery salt & seeds, no celery; walnuts for chestnuts; red wine for wine
vinegar; powdered mustard not prepared; chicken bouillon not broth/stock/etc.; some grenadine not
liquor or brandy.
Sub’d bagels for baguettes, used 3-sheese & sundried tomato pesto w/ basil-infused olive oil.
No shallots, estimated orange sauce amounts (rushed).
Hmm… http://www.cooks.com/rec/doc/0,1915,148172-246204,00.html has a tasty-looking recipe for
roast duck with Grand Marnier.
Serve with:
Wine: Pinot Noir or Chateau Lagrange St.-Julien
Salad: chard w/ vinaigrette
Entrée: eggs sautéed in duck fat, w/ red caviar, chives, chervil, & sour cream
Side dishes: steamed asparagus, and potatoes au gratin w/ minced garlic (topped w/ Gruyere)
Main course: duck on bed of brown rice w/ toasted almond slivers
Bread: tomato cheese (instructions included below)
Dessert: pineapple w/ chocolate sauce?
Yield: 4 servings
Level: Intermediate
Prep time: 10 min
Inactive time: --
Active time: 45 min
Total time: 2¼ hr
Special equipment: an instant-read thermometer; a 13”x9” flameproof roasting pan
Ingredients for duck

1 (5-6 lb) duck
1 tablespoon sea salt
1 teaspoon ground coriander
½ teaspoon ground cumin
1 teaspoon black pepper
------------------------------------------------
1 juice orange, halved
4 fresh thyme sprigs
4 fresh marjoram sprigs
2 fresh flat-leaf parsley sprigs
1 small onion, cut into 8 wedges
------------------------------------------------
½ cup dry white wine
½ cup duck stock, OR duck and veal stock (D'Artagnan 800-327-8246), OR chicken stock/broth
------------------------------------------------
½ carrot
½ celery rib
½ cup diced chestnuts
------------------------------------------------
10 strips of bacon
Ingredient for sauce

1/3 cup sugar
------------------------------------------------
1/3 cup fresh orange juice (from 1-2 oranges)
2 tablespoons balsamic, sherry, or red wine vinegar (or white)—or more to taste
2 tablespoons shallots, minced
½ teaspoon thyme
1 bay leaf
½ teaspoon powdered ginger
1 tablespoon mustard (PREF: brown Dijon)
1/8 teaspoon sea salt
------------------------------------------------
2-4 tablespoons duck/chicken stock/broth/glaze
------------------------------------------------
1 tablespoon unsalted butter, softened
1 tablespoon cornstarch (or all-purpose flour)
------------------------------------------------
1 tablespoon fine julienne of fresh orange zest (ALT: kumquat), removed with a vegetable peeler
------------------------------------------------
1 tablespoon orange flavored liqueur (recommended: Grand Marnier) ALT: brandy
Preparation for duck

Put oven rack in middle position and preheat oven to 475°F.
CRUCIAL: Prick the duck’s skin all over but not sticking the skewer straight in—go almost parallel
with the skin, through it and into the fat but not the flesh. This will let the fat drain out during cooking.
Stir together salt, coriander, cumin, and pepper. Pat duck dry and sprinkle inside and out with spice
mixture.
Cut 1 half of orange into quarters and put into duck’s cavity with thyme, marjoram, parsley, and 4
onion wedges.
Squeeze juice from remaining half of orange and stir together with wine and stock. Set aside.
Spread remaining 4 onion wedges in roasting pan with carrot, celery, and chestnuts, then place duck
on top of vegetables, cover with bacon slices, and roast 30 minutes.
Pour wine mixture into roasting pan and reduce oven temperature to 350°F. Continue to roast duck
until thermometer inserted into a thigh (close to, but not touching, bone) registers 170°F (though
poultry really should be 190°F), 1-1¼ hours more.
Turn on broiler and broil duck 3-4” from heat until top is golden brown—about 3 minutes.
Tilt duck to drain juices from cavity into pan and transfer duck to a cutting board, reserving juices in
pan.
Let duck stand 15 minutes.
Preparation for sauce:

DO NOT START UNTIL: T-1 hour
While duck roasts, cook sugar in a dry 1-quart heavy saucepan over moderate heat, undisturbed,
until it begins to melt. Continue to cook, stirring occasionally with a fork, until sugar melts into a deep
golden caramel.
Add orange juice, vinegar, shallots, thyme, bay leaf, ginger, mustard, and salt (use caution; mixture
will bubble and steam vigorously) and simmer over low heat, stirring occasionally, until caramel is
dissolved. Remove syrup from heat.
Discard vegetables from roasting pan and pour pan juices through a fine-mesh sieve into a 1-quart
glass measure or bowl, then skim off and save fat for omelettes. Add enough stock/broth/glaze to pan
juices to total 1 cup liquid.
Stir together butter and cornstarch to form a beurre manié.
Bring pan juices to a simmer in a 1-2 quart heavy saucepan, and then add beurre manié, whisking
constantly to prevent lumps.
Add orange syrup and zest and simmer, whisking occasionally, until sauce is thickened slightly and
zest is tender, about 5 minutes. Add liqueur and simmer the sauce for about 30 seconds to cook off the
alcohol.
Serve with duck.
Tomato and cheese bread:

1’ baguette
See also: http://allrecipes.com//Recipe/sun-dried-tomato-and-asiago-cheese-bread/Detail.aspx
1 small par-baked baguette

2-3 tbsp softened butter (ALT: olive oil w/ a little rosemary)
1 tbsp concentrated tomato paste
3 tbsp grated cheddar cheese (or other cheese of choice)
black pepper to taste
1/2 tsp dried oregano
1 avocado
Preheat the oven to 180C. Slice the baguette carefully into 1.5 cm thick slices, being careful not to
cut all the way through the bottom of each slice.
In a small bowl, mix together all the remaining ingredients to form a paste. Carefully spread a
generous amount of the paste into each cut in the baguette, spreading any leftovers on top of the
baguette.
Wrap the baguette in aluminum foil (shiny side in) and bake in the center of the oven for about 10
minutes or until the butter has completely melted into the bread.
Serve hot.
Eggnog
This is a really decent recipe overall, but it's really just not worth the effort to me – and I love
eggnog (so, yeah, great to know if we're talking middle of nowhere; otherwise I'll just hit the nearest
grocery store).
makes 16 servings:
2 large eggs
1½ cups sugar
½ teaspoon salt
2 x 1 quart milk (1 quart and another quart, at separate times)
OPT: substitute sweetened condensed milk to taste
…………………………
1½ teaspoons rum extract
1½ teaspoons vanilla extract
nutmeg, cinnamon, allspice, mace (online = ½ tsp each, but I did it “to taste”)
NOTE 1: the allspice, and even more so the mace, seemed to me to be the really-key ingredients
NOTE 2: This is when the other quart of milk comes in
…………………………
2 cups heavy whipping cream
In heavy 4-quart saucepan, with wire whisk, beat eggs, sugar, and salt until blended.
Gradually stir in 1 quart milk and cook over low heat, STIRRING CONSTANTLY (i.e.: NON-
STOP – CONTINUOUSLY), until mixture thickens and coats the back of a spoon well, about 25
minutes (mixture should be about 170° F to 175° F [maybe ~2-3 setting on an electric stove], but do
not boil or it will curdle).
Pour custard into large bowl; stir in rum & vanilla extracts, ½ teaspoon each of ground
nutmeg/cinnamon/allspice, and remaining milk.
Cover and refrigerate until well chilled, about 3 hours.
To serve:
In small bowl, with mixer at medium speed, beat heavy or whipping cream until soft peaks form.
With wire whisk, gently fold whipped cream into custard mixture.
Pour eggnog into chilled 5-quart punch bowl; sprinkle with ground nutmeg.
Fettuccine carbonara con pesto

I originally had this earmarked for linguine, but fettuccine really would be a better match.
Fudge
POINTS OF CLARIFICATION:
– This isn't a Hershey bar. THAT'S JUST CHEAP-ASS CHOCOLATE.
– This isn't some cake-like material. THAT'S A GODDAMNED BROWNIE.
– This has no fucking Velveeta in it. THAT ISN'T EVEN RELATED TO FUDGE!
This isn’t for the faint of heart -- seriously, you probably want someone on hand who’s made fudge
before. It’s easy to make, but very tricky to catch the moment that the liquid mixture subtly shifts and
requires the fire to be reduced immediately...
The last time that I made this was 2010, I think, but the key to it struck me so strongly that it’s still
clear in my mind: my only advice is to say that it takes about 10 minutes to reach that point, that you
must stir continuously (not really vigorously, but definitely not languorously either), and that you
absolutely must watch its color the entire time or else you will miss the right moment of when the
color goes from a medium-light color to a slightly different medium-light caramel-ish color (this shift
takes place over the course of maybe 5 seconds, and it’s fairly obvious as you watch it, but hard to see
the difference at all if you look away and glance back at it).
If you ever lose this recipe, you can always look it up again somewhere: it's my second wife's mom's
recipe, but it's also the Carnation [milk] fudge recipe.
I don’t remember the size of the pans, and my copy of the recipe didn’t state it, but you want to get
about 1” deep of fudge, so you probably want about two 9”(?)x12”(?) well-buttered glass pans...
approximately.
NOTE: Wikibooks has a similar recipe, and they're using one 9”x9” or 9”x13” pan. Their quantities
are a bit smaller though, and they don't mention just how thick or thin the fudge lies in the pan, so I'm
going to hazard a guess that their 7.29(+) cups of ingredients and the 12.27(+) cups in the recipe below
are probably about the same density for the purposes of measuring necessary footprints of baking pans
– if so, then you'd need about 1.68(+) as much pan-space for this recipe as you would for theirs (or
conversely 0.59(+) times as much for theirs as you might for this one); if so, then if their 9”x9”
suggestion is a good fit for their recipe, then you'd need ~136.3 square inches of pan space for the
recipe below (so, maybe a 12”x12” would be about right, giving the same height as their fudge, and
perhaps adjusting as needed if you want taller/shorter slices than this would yield).
1 12-oz can evaporated milk

3+1/3 cups sugar
4 Tbsp butter
----------
4 cups miniature marshmallows
2 cups chopped walnuts
2 cups semi-sweet chocolate chips (1 x 12-oz package)
2 tsp vanilla
Combine in saucepan: milk, sugar, and butter.

Heat to boiling -- stirring continuously -- for 10 minutes (watch for the slight color change).
Reduce heat to medium-high (~3 on a 7-setting-gas-stove).
Add: marshmallows, nuts, chocolate, and vanilla.
Stir until marshmallows are melted.
Pour into buttered pan; cool and slice.
Grape nut bread

This one I thought up around 2009-2010. Then I figured that if I could think it up, then surely
others would have tried it already and left their results online. Sure enough, I found maybe 5 or 10
variations.
This is the combined result of their recipes, and it's delicious. Good strong texture. Sticks together
well. Somewhat heavy, but that being a pro or con depends upon your preferences and the exact
circumstances.
~1½ - 2 lb loaf:
1½ - 2 cup Water
1½ - 3 tablespoon Vegetable oil
(or: 1½ tb Butter)
1½ - 3 tablespoon Sugar
1 - 2 teaspoon Salt
½ - 1 cup Grape Nut cereal (not flakes)
2 ¾ cup Bread flour
(or: 1¼ c Whole-wheat flour
AND 1½ c Bread flour)
1½ - 2½ teaspoon Yeast
1 - 2 Tbsp [Wheat] Gluten -- (Optional)
1 Tbsp Dough enhancer - optional
1 - 1½ Tbsp Dry milk
9 oz Warm milk
Combine water and cereal and let soften 5 minutes.

Add to bread machine in order specified in your manual (check dough after 5 minutes of mixing;
add 1 to 2 tablespoons of water or flour if needed).
White bread, medium bake setting; basic setting. It is all right to open the machine and touch the
dough to check its consistency. Do this after about 5 minutes into the KNEAD cycle. The dough
should form a soft ball around the kneading blade.
If it is too dry, add liquid 1/2 to 1 tablespoon at a time; if it is too wet, add 1 tablespoon of flour at a
time.
Note: Wheat gluten can be purchased at health food stores or in supermarkets.
Grape nut porridge

“Made it with sweetened condensed milk an' a bit o' light brown sugar for flavor. I also threw in
some blueberries 'n' banana slices.”
Not really very recipe-like, to my mind, but I suppose that it qualifies.
Grape nuts (to taste)

Light brown sugar ~1-2 teasp per bowl
Milk (to taste)
--- --- --- --- ---
Blueberries 2 oz per bowl
Banana ~3” [sliced thin] per bowl
Pour cereal into microwaveable bowl.

Mix in brown sugar (really doesn't need much, or you risk drowning out the malt-flavor of the
cereal, which is brought out more strongly by the cooking process).
Fill remaining volume with milk (not to rim though).
Microwave at appropriate temp and time to make it hot enough for your taste.
Note: the cereal will have greatly absorbed the milk when done, so adding a bit more milk will
likely be necessary.
Toss in blueberries and banana slices, mix as desired.
Ham-swiss-mushroom casserole
My first wife's recipe. Simple to put together, not long waiting time, and so wonderfully worthwhile
when you get it into your mouth! Unfortunately, I don't have it in written form, so I have to shoot in
the dark a bit here:
~20 oz egg noodles, wide to extra-wide

1 lb ham, chopped to ~1/2” chunks
1-2 lb Swiss cheese, chopped or sliced
~20 oz cream of mushroom soup
Layer the noodles with the ham and cheese and maybe half of the soup in a casserole dish (I'd say
Pyrex, but it really doesn't matter at all), and repeat until finished (2-3 layers should use all of the
ingredients).
Coat the top with remaining soup and any last bits of ham and cheese.
Bake (I'm guessing ~350° F) ~20 minutes.
Kālua pork
This is the final version of a recipe that I ended up making a ways back (whenever I finally dig it out
of my external drives). It turned out acceptably well, but was nowhere near as good as the real thing,
nor as good as the somewhat different roasted suckling pig.
Kidney bean stew (slumgullion)

I had thought that this was my grandfather's recipe though it turns out to have been my
grandmother's; in either case, I haven't made it in a few years (about a decade, actually...), but it's fairly
forgiving. Mind you, I'm working from memory, since I never wrote it down.
2 gallon pot, with lid

28 oz crushed stewed tomatoes (and all juices)
16 oz light red kidney beans (and all juices)
16 oz dark red kidney beans (and all juices)
2-4 cups elbow macaroni
16 oz sausage, chopped into ~1/2” slices
(slicing up a package of hot dogs fits the recipe perfectly well)
Carrots, chopped into ~1/2” slices
Celery, chopped into ~1/2” slices
Salt to taste (~1-2 teasp)
Pepper to taste (~1-2 Tblsp)
Enough water to fill the rest of the pot
Throw it all into the pot.

Turn on the heat to a medium-ish setting.
Wait maybe 30 or so minutes (more or less, depending upon heat and amount of ingredients).
Kielbasa and garlic noodles

Quick and easy to make, and bursting with flavor. This is my first wife's approximate recipe.
Butter or margarine, ~2-3 Tblsp

Minced garlic, extremely heavily to taste (maybe 2-3 Tblsp)
Salt, lightly to taste
Black pepper, heavily to taste
Kielbasa, ~2' in biased slices of ~1/4” thick
Elbow macaroni, 2 cups
Melt the butter or margarine in a frying pan.

Add garlic, salt, and pepper and sautée gently over very low heat.
Brown the kielbasa in this at a higher heat, sweating some of the grease out.
Lightly sautée macaroni at a still higher heat briefly, to sear the edges.
Boil macaroni 'til al dente.
Return to pan to absorb more flavor.
La cage au bullion
This one goes back a ways. I first made it in late 1996, and tweaked it here and there over the years.
I love this one, and hope that you do too. It's not really a recipe quite as much as a meal plan, but it
should give you enough to work out the how-to for it.
1 A) onion soup (light, not French);

B) salad with Balsamic vinaigrette;
C) orange pekoe tea;
2 A.1) bed of wild rice,

A.2) covered-roast steak (i.e.: nearly par-broiled [albeit in red wine, so technically not actually par
broiled as such], with portobello mushrooms, apples, pears, & pearl onions) laid atop the rice,
A.3.a) medium coat of bleu cheese,
A.3.b) overlaid by pinwheel of alternating thin-strip-bacon and thickened beef bullion-and-drippings
sauce,
A.3.c) overlaid in turn with thin-sliced Swiss cheese;
B) red wine (a reasonably strong body, but not sufficient to overpower the main course);
3 A) sorbet on vanilla wafers with a few mint leaves to garnish;

B) rich semi-sweetened cappuccino;
3-ALT.: crème brûlée (alt-alt: perhaps baklava?), with amaretto-cappuccino.
Linguine al triplo burro, with tuna and clams

My daughter came up with this one around 2005 (I was thinking that she'd used fettuccine, but I'm
pretty sure that it was linguine). Really simple and easy, totally yummy, cheap as hell ingredients.
I don't have specific amounts in mind, so just wing it and experiment with the amounts.
24 oz Linguine
~1-2 oz olive oil (pref. first pressed, cold rolled, extra virgin)
½ tsp sea salt
--- --- --- --- ---
½ cup milk
4-5 heaping Tblsp butter/margarine (I prefer Country Crock)
12+ oz tuna (including juice or not)
12+ oz clams (including juice or not)
4+ oz grated Parmigiano-Reggiano
Make the linguine, toss in the other ingredients, and eat.
Lughnasadh pie
I never got around to baking this one myself, but I did have some that a friend made in 2006.
Phenomenal stuff. Also, a wonderfully easy recipe -- though obviously, he didn’t exactly send me
complete instructions... but really, it’s pretty straightforward stuff.
1 cup sugar
1/2 cup flour
1/2 lemon zest
salt to taste
5 cups blueberries
One 9” two-piece pie crust (bottom & top)
1 lemon’s juice
1 Tbsp butter
20 minutes at 375° F.
Remove foil, and then bake 25 more minutes.
-- from “Celtic folklore cooking”, by Joanne Asala
Pot roast, medium-spicy

This is a recreation of a friend's pot roast (Mouse, I'm looking in your direction, thank you). Really
good stuff, but if your tongue burns with simple black pepper, then you might want to turn this recipe
down a few notches (or at least stick it into the 'fridge for 2-3 days before trying to eat it).
The only problem with it is that you want to eat the whole damned thing in one sitting.
YIELD ~1-1.5 gal

(3 reasonably decent servings for hungry people who actually know how to eat;
9-10 for dainty things with no real appetite)
1-2 gallon pot, with lid

5 lb beef (tenderloin's best for most stuff, but you'd never know the difference with this one)
3-4 dark serranos, chopped to ~1 cm chunks
5-6 habaneros, chopped to ~1 cm chunks
2-3 medium onions, diced to ~0.5 cm chunks
3-4 celery stalks, chopped to ~1 cm chunks
3-4 carrots, sliced to ~0.25” discs
a quick glug or two of liquid smoke (he might not have used that, but it should be O.K. either way)
3-4 medium potatoes, diced to ~0.5” cubes
[maybe he used some tomatoes, too, maybe not]
1-2 pints of water (more, if you'd like)
NOTE: if you flake <*ahem*> and forget to get habaneros and serranos, then I can vouch for ~15 glugs
of Cholula being a suitable substitute for bite and flavor (don't know about Texas Pete, but... yeah,
maybe in a pinch).
I also recently tried a variation on the theme, with a pound of sauerkraut, 10 oz diced tomatoes, a
few dashes of Balsamic, and some Old Bay seasoning; skipped the peppers. Definitely a different
palette, but not bad. I threw in some Cajun seasoning toward the end; not really any better or worse,
just meh.
Throw it all into the pot and set to a medium heat (you do want it to boil for a little while at the outset,
but only 3-10 minutes, and then reduce to a high-simmer).
Let it stew for an hour or two.
Sniff-check it to see which flavors need a little balancing (maybe a little oregano, or some Old Bay).
Give it another hour or two of simmering to really soften up (when the meat falls apart, it's ready)
and marinate.
Pumpkin soup and honey oat bread

These are my second wife's recipes (it looks as if she might have gotten them from BreadmanPlus?).
Really good stuff, but you can easily drink a few mugs (or eat a few bowls, if you're more traditional)
of it and still be hungry (in other words: delicious, but not filling). Seriously. It's NOT filling, but it
tastes great. Hmm, tastes great, less filling...
1 small onion
3 cups chicken broth
1 lb can pumpkin
1 cup heavy cream
1 tbsp butter
Salt and Pepper
Chop onion.
Place onion and 1½ cup broth in pot and bring to boil.
Let simmer for 10 minutes or until onion is tender.
Stir in Pumpkin, 1 cup additional broth, and salt and pepper to taste.
Let simmer 5 minutes.
Puree mixture and return it to pot.
Stir in butter, heavy cream, and remaining broth.
Notes: Freezes Well. Goes very well with honey oatmeal bread.
Honey oatmeal bread:

Serves 8:
1 cup water
1/4 cup honey
2 tablespoons vegetable oil or canola oil
3 cups white bread flour
1/2 cup oatmeal, uncooked
1 teaspoon salt
2 teaspoons active dry yeast
Combine ingredients in breadmaker per your manufacturer's instructions.

You can replace 2 cups white bread flour with 2 cups whole wheat flour but include 1 tbsp vital
wheat gluten (the original recipe suggested this).
Makes a moist, sweet loaf.
NOTE: cook time is for the basic/white cycle (medium crust; 1½ lb loaf) using a BreadmanPlus
bread machine; your machine might differ.
Quiche Lorraine
It’s been so long that I don’t recall any particular remarks about its flavor (except maybe it was a tad
bland, and might have been a bit low in saltiness too), but it came out just as one would expect --
though I think that the crust was just a bit more well done than I would have liked.
Pastry for 9-inch crust pie

8 slices bacon, crisply cooked and crumbled
1 big or 2 medium onions, minced
1 cup shredded Swiss cheese (4 ounces)
1 cup finely chopped onion
4 large eggs
2 cups heavy whipping cream
1/4 teaspoon salt

1/4 teaspoon pepper
1/8 teaspoon cayenne pepper
1 Tablespoon dry mustard
1 Tablespoon ginger, ground
1 Tablespoon nutmeg
1 teaspoon chives
1 clove of garlic crushed
1/4 to 1/2 teaspoon paprika
parsley (to sprinkle on top of liquid mix)
5 to 6 drops Tabasco sauce to taste (or salt and pepper)
NOTE: I probably used Texas Pete, though today I might consider Cholula instead.
Fry and drain the bacon well (with lots of paper towels). Crush/crumble the bacon.
Sauté the onion in butter until the center is clear and the edges start to brown. Drain well in a
strainer lined with paper towels.
Heat oven to 425 degrees. In bottom of one crust pastry shell sprinkle bacon, cheese and onion.
Beat eggs slightly; beat in remaining ingredients. Pour into quiche dish over bacon, cheese and onion.
Sprinkle parsley on top of liquid mix.
Bake 15 minutes. Reduce temperature to 300 degrees and bake about 30 minutes longer or until
knife in center comes out clean.
Let stand 10 minutes before cutting.
Risotto e porcini al Parmigiano-Reggiano doppio
Salmon pâté
I don't remember where I got this recipe from (just someplace online), and I might have modified it
since finding the original version(s) – and I would have sworn that there was some marjoram in it
(apparently not, though it likely wouldn't go amiss if you threw some in). Either way though, this stuff
is an absolute raving smash hit with anyone who doesn't dislike fish (not sure about those who do, but
I'd bet against it).
For 2 cups pâté:
1 garlic clove
1 pkg. unflavored gelatin (feel free to ignore this, since it sets just fine without it)
1 tbsp. minced onion (optional)
1 tbsp. lemon juice
1/4 tsp. freshly ground pepper
2 tbsp. butter
1 tbsp. oil
Pinch paprika
A pinch nutmeg
1/2 tsp. dill weed (somewhat important)
1 (7 oz.) salmon – red
2 tbsp. whipping / heavy cream
1/4 c. crumbled blue cheese (nice to have, but not really necessary)
1 pkg. (8 oz.) cream cheese
1/2 c. Miracle Whip
1 tbsp. sherry
A pinch salt
1 tbsp. chopped parsley
Dash garlic powder
1 tsp. Worcestershire sauce
1/2 tsp. liquid smoke
Few drops Tabasco sauce (I'd go with Texas Pete, instead)
1/2 tsp. anchovy paste (optional)
In a food processor, mince garlic.

Add gelatin, onions, lemon juice, pepper, butter and oil and blend well.
Add paprika, nutmeg and dill. Blend.
Add drained salmon and cream; process until smooth.
Blend cheese with salmon and seasonings until smooth.
Add remaining ingredients; process until well blended.
Mold in small bowl lined with plastic wrap.
Let chill several hours.
Unmold to serve with crackers or thin sliced rye bread.
NOTE: goes well with cucumber, iced tea (“sweet tea”), rye bread.
Spaghetti al ragù alla bolognese

Asiago in the base, with butter added right before serving. They sautéed the garlic just about
right, but messed up by throwing in the oregano too late,” Peach licked her palate a few times,
drawing air across her tongue and slowly down the back of her sinus cavity “There's also a sweet
sausage, but another one as well... slightly spiced, flavored with... umm, fennel and anise?
Stuffed pumpkin
Now, I've done stuffed pumpkin before, but I never really gave it any thought. It's always just been
a sort of freestyle thing – pumpkins, some ground beef, chopped veggies (onion and peppers, certainly,
maybe some rice), and whatever else. Then I ran into this recipe on YouTube and it looked perfect – I
had to add it in. Yes, I actually shoehorned that scene just for this recipe (I haven't tried it out, so I can't
actually vouch for it, but I'm quite sure that it tastes fine).
Cucco's Kitchen
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W498ybDMC-I
1 Pumpkin
1lb Lean Ground Beef
1 Yellow, Green, Orange Pepper diced
1/2 tsp Ground Cumin
1 tsp Salt
1tbs Pepper
2 tbsp Sofrito or Tomato Paste
3 Large Garlic Cloves Minced
1 cup Tomato Sauce
1/4 cup Cooking White Wine
1/4 cup of Pimiento-Stuffed Green Olives
1 tbsp Capers
1tbsp Sherry Vinegar
1/2 Large Yellow Onion
Heat the oil in a 10-inch skillet over medium heat. Add the onions, peppers, garlic and cook till soft. 2
min. Add cumin, salt and pepper, and cook till onions are translucent. 6 min. Add in the sofrito or
tomato paste and cook. Raise heat to high and brown the meat. Break it up with all the veggies and
then once brown add the tomato sauce, wine, olives and capers. Reduce the heat to low and simmer
covered for 15-20 min. Add in sherry vinegar every 5 min to adjust it to your taste.
Cut top of pumpkin off and gut it, once clean and hollow stuff it with the meat and bake for 30 min.
Stuffing
This is my grandfather's recipe, and I haven't made it in a few years (about a decade, actually...), but
it's fairly forgiving. Mind you, I'm working from memory, since I never wrote it down.
3-4 gallon steel pot, with lid

3 pounds butter/margarine (I use Country Crock)
4-5 loaves of stale bread, diced to ~1” squares
(1-2 being cinnamon raisin bread, otherwise add cinnamon and raisins to taste)
All of the giblets (and more, if possible), chopped to ~0.5-1 cm radii
1-2 onions, ~3”-4” diam, chopped to ~2-3mm bits
1-2 teasp salt (I prefer sea salt, but iodized rock [table] salt is just fine)
2-3 teasp ground black pepper (cheap store-bought stuff is better here, but fresh-ground is fine)
2-3 teasp ground sage (really important for the flavor)

1-2 teasp ground rosemary
1-2 teasp ground thyme
1-2 teasp ground celery seed (optional, but enhances the other flavors very nicely)
Note: a stalk or three of chopped celery isn't part of the recipe, but might not go amiss.
-----
>1 cup water or broth (preferably drippings from you presumably currently roasting turkey
– you just keep adding now and then, so it's hard to say how much)
1-2 cups apple sauce (fairly important, but not absolutely vital)
1 cup apple juice (or cider)
Grab a handful (or two, or more) of butter a grease the side of the pot extremely liberally – to the point
that the butter almost falls off from its own weight.
Toss in {most of the bread, all of the giblets, onions, and seasonings} in 2-3 layers of each, leaving
4”-5” of empty space at the top of the pot.
Tilt the pot and pour 0.5 cup of apple sauce in along the side. Rotate the pot 90° (¼ turn) and
repeat. Repeat twice more (resulting in a total of 2 cups of apple sauce dispersed to four areas at the
bottom of your bread).
Tilt the pot and gently pour 1 cup of water in along the side, so as to minimize soaking the bread.
Repeat this with your apple juice/cider.
Place on a low to medium heat until it reaches a heavy steaming, mixing periodically to avoid
burning the bottom.
Continue cooking and adding further ingredients (likely broth [preferably straight from the roasting
turkey juices] now, and any remaining butter/margarine [if you don't simply throw it into the turkey
pan, that is], rather than water or apple juice) as needed to obtain desired consistency (for me, that
would be something about the resistance of really stiff mashed potatoes, and in a very small range of
not-too-wet-but-not-too-dry) and texture (it really is fine if it comes out as a single gooey blob, but it's
definitely better if it instead retains a drier form almost recognizable as having evolved from something
resembling bread cubes).
Tomatoes Caprese
This is so simple that it barely deserves the name “recipe”, but so delicious that I had to include it.
Tomatoes, sliced ~0.25”-0.5” thick, COLD (not freezing, but very definitely NOT warm)
Mozzarella, sliced ~1/8”-1/4” thick, WARM (not necessary, just preferable)
(provolone would be a suitable substitute)
Olive oil (if possible, but not really necessary: first pressed, cold rolled, extra virgin)
Basil (semi-heavy, but to taste)
Salt (just barely enough to notice it)
Pile up the ingredients in the sequence listed: tomato slice, then cheese, coat with oil pretty much
entirely, then throw on basil and salt to taste.
Tuna-squid rolls
There was this bakery (St. Marc Bakery) in Fussa-shi prefecture (outside of Tōkyō) that had these
amazing bun-roll things. I can only guess at the exact ingredients, but they were basically tuna (the
stuff with salad dressing for a sandwich, not simply shredded tuna alone, nor a solid chunk of mago)
stuffed into squid tentacles, in turn wrapped in something like a stiff, dense challah or Hawiʻian
roll.
That's about it.
Sorry, not much of a recipe, I know, but you really should try it. Mmm... delicious, man. :-)
O ~~~ O
APPENDIX G: The World

POPULATION, INFRASTRUCTURE, ETC.
Given the current narrative, what size fleets and armies might one expect at a maximum, without
unduly impacting Maslow/MWR?
How many ships per nation were {navy / commercial / privateer / pirate / personal}?
16C: ESP armada = 130 ships; ENG sleet = 227 ships

pop ~8.5-30M pop ~3-5.6M
Assuming that all other factors pretty much balanced out, Spain produced one naval ship per
148k pop, and England produced one ship per 19k pop (not sure if this is when they depleted their
forests). So, maybe one ship per 80k pop might not be unreasonable.
Ships' complements varied a shit ton, but figure maybe 500-1,000 per larger ones, and ~200-400
typical (assume something like Moore's law or Titus Bode [they're deprecated, but evocative], though
right skewed)?
What sort of resource logistics and allocations are we looking at overall?
Reference datum, Earth
Pop c10k BC 1-15M, 15c ~400M;

IAW China 1-2c, assume ~5 per household, so maybe 2 adults and 3 kids
England 17c >5M
N Am <15c 2-18M
How much land area does Light World have?
PLACE PIECE AREAS SUMS TOTALS

W Hyrule 1300 v * 1300 h * 0.75 ~ 1.27M sq mi
E Hyrule 2300 / * 1300 \ ~3M sq mi
The Continent 1600 / * 7000 \ ~11.2M +
1700 / * 1600 \ ~2.7M +
2000 / * 3500 \ * 0.5 ~3.5M ~17.4M sq mi
Arrakis 1000 v * 1500 h ~1.5M+

600 v * 1000 h ~0.6M+
900 / * 800 \ ~0.7M+
600 v * 2000 h ~1.2M+
1300 / * 900 \ ~1.2M ~4.6M sq mi
GRAND ~1.27 + ~3 + ~17.4 + ~4.6M → 26.7M sq mi (~0.5 Earth's land)
Beyond the oceans?

Northern and southern ends are terribly iced; eastern and western ends are seas of lava.
Bordering any two is an explosive landscape of glaciers and lava geysers.
How many people live in Light World, in toto? ~400M (density ~18c Earth's)
Historical pop growth rate? ~0 (± dx/dt ~0)
How many people per species [~50 species]? ~8M
“ “ “ “ language [20-30 major lang]? ~16M (13M-20M)
“ “ “ “ culture [20-30 major, 200-300 sub]? ~16M (13M-20M → 1.3M-2M)
“ “ “ “ nation [10-15 major, grouping city-states/etc.]? ~32M (27M-40M)
Assuming that the realms have approximately equal distributions of weather, arability, population
percentages, etc. (and ignoring the fact that the appr. areas sum to 26.27M sq miles, a good 0.43M less
than the more-accurate grand total), the relative populations and potential naval fleet sizes (±20%)
might be something like:
Pop. Navy
Hyrule ~65M 800
Continent ~265M 3,300 (660 per unit nation)
Arrakis ~70M 875
Sounds screwy to me, even for a poorly researched spitball, but at least it's a start. Gonna have to get
more-solid numbers over a broader range of nations and time periods, then work out extrema and
optimal ratios, then apply same to each Light World nation (accounting for their coastline, woodsiness,
inclinations [Dwarves, Badders, Wolfen, Wamphyrii – they're not going naval at all], etc.).
Will also need to take into account population sizes and expected (N)PC levels.
City sizes
The Dwarves, Skaven, and Goblins are running Bronze Age tech, so I'll set their cities in the 10k-50k
population range, with towns of 500-2000, and loads of villages <100.
The Badders are generally going to have small tribes controlled by the biggest bad asses around, so
maybe limit their dens to 100-500 for the largest, and typically 10-100.
Wamphyrii Aeries generally house 1k-2k, plus ghouls, thralls, retainers, and corrals totaling 10k-
20k. Note: maybe Archduke Osric & Lady Ermahgerd?
Zgany generally small groups, but not too small; 50-200.
The Wolfen tribes are loose clusters of packs, with each pack numbering 50-500.
Orc clans range nomadically, often breaking off and reforming new bands, but hovering somewhere
around 200-1000.
Arrakis sees small family units, wandering tribes of 10-200, cistern-creches of 20-1000, and cities of
<5000.
The first world nations see many small cities of 10k-100k, quite a few medium cities of 50k-200k,
and a handful of large cities upward of 500k.
Decent-looking breakdown titled “Medieval Demographics Made Easy” at
https://img.4plebs.org/boards/tg/image/1389/68/1389684960897.pdf
What percentage of each resource is devoted to a given pursuit?

Pop Land Minerals GNP
Food ---
Shelter ---
Tools ---
Clothes ---
Utilities ---
Knowledge
Arts
War
need to map ley lines better, mark off the Hyrule Marches, indicate tectonics / air-water currents
SCRIBBLED NOTES TO GET BACK TO

Seize the Deity
Damn. Damn! Damn-damn! Where is that kid?

Half-crazed Visigoths!
Yup. Nice goin' there, Pandora...
99 problems
60 things to do but i'll get back to you
Wait up
Shot the sheriff
¿Que pasa con eso? Was ist los? ...va bene
Saint James infirmary blues
No, your other right...
wanderjahr
what's up doc?
open mouth, cover ears
shallots, savory, saffron to boar etc sniff em all open mouth like cats
cure vs endure
set asunder
Minnie the Moocher
dense snow type: rubbery scrunching noise
S lesson to P at camp: what's changed? What's outta place? Squirrel prints in this weather!
capo: what's good for business, is good for business.
S to P: 5 mother sauces
S to P: walk heel-to-toe
oubliette
blanch asparagus. Remember it last week? Now taste how it would been if boiled, or fried.
Never teach all of your tricks – cigar case
P: Quixotic? Oh, Zelda, honey, no! Your giants are entirely real.
Z ozone-like crackle about her
find your center. Ask yourself why that's your center, then ask why that is the reason, and keep asking.
If it's worth havin', it's worth fightin' for; if ya gotta fight for it, it ain't worth havin'.
Spoondrift powder and needlepoints of driven ice, trees sang mournful dirge
Ya'd be surprised whatcha can live through.
No matter how bad shit gets, it can always get worse...
cloves, tobacco, birch bark

hyperbole, but not resisting
narcissists can't care about others, they're just game pieces to them.
Truss boar, bleed it out
Vichyssoise, gazpacho, ratatouille, coq au vin
trust gut, be-not and fight. Notcher friend
cop a squat
Ōkami plan had least destructive results
burninated
teach P to predict weather
aquiline features, or no?
Ōkami: 1000 manifolds of possibility trees.
S to P: rotate chest halfway, to guard
anchovy flakes
utensils important to food flavor and ambiance, presentation too, aroma
gaminess of food, age and blood increases it
Don't have to let go of love, but OK to let go of pain once mourned.
Life is the quiet between the strokes, the punctuated equilibrium
boar hunt: tracks, spoor, bent branch
why being nice? What are you after?
In Freeport, Z sticks guillotine tube into P, who's torn between warm-gush and total freak-out.
Tributaries and delta
smell stream? Good nose.
Throw in grampa's stuffing recipe
aioli-remoulade w pinoli and hummus
The map is not the territory.
Hasta lasagna, don't get any on ya.
S shows P how to pick & bump locks, twiddle combinations, escape bindings
Grok?
Ain't happenin', go figure.
Sucks ta be you.
Kafka, metamorphosis
Salad w bleu cheese dressing, potatoes au gratin
fried potato
steak, pear sauce, pearl onions
if ya gotta ask, y'ain't gotta ask
reality, dream, can you really tell the difference?
Crashed, huh? Try guru meditation.
Just the facts, ma'am.
Where's all the rum?
ʻohana
gondola ride?
https://sites.google.com/site/danmachidnd/
Chtorr?
Sometimes ya gotta chew off a leg.
Get'cher head outta yer ass
mirror world: good and evil (N)PCs swapped
Frak the gorram-frelled smegger.

Usohaki?
Necroscope vampires?
Strike about 70% of full extension, aim about an inch past the impact point, keep loose 'til impact
use their momentum against them
learn, adapt, improvise, overcome, survive
different cultures, different preferences of sci/mag/psi tech.s
penetrating photograv binoculars from Kitana (used to scan testing area, spot Pérdida)
caritas
seen a ghost? (ref. before Sonic explains Möbius)
what the hell is really going on, MeHums, kallisti
Friday's sisters: Eve and Dawn? If so, then how does that play into not being sure about Thursday?
Sonic & Tails: what else is in their genes? Lie detection? Infravision?
I wasn't even supposed to be here today!
Choc chip mint ice cream @ b'day, lemon frosting on cherry cheesecake
7r0115 game: Mitnick the Mentor?
Z to D: P's altosoprano or higher when she gets really excited <wink>
death is only the beginning
greasy chicken, creamed sweet corn, potatoes au gratin
T to P: you want me to post-mortem at a hundred paces? BSL4
Gruntmaster 6000
sometimes life just gets in the way
P → Z: mayo, mustard, salt, chicken; fat and blood gravy, with heavy pepper
Z pretty little masseuses useless, needed gnarly old dude to really grind away the kinks
S: teach P tanabata forms
coconut flaked chocolate rum balls with peppermint schnapps
P → Z: languages? Z: I have a facility for it.
Z not quite hairless, some peach-fuzz in pits, just enough to hold sweat and flavor for P
Z → manga, like anime at hotel. P: the cartoon things? Z: close enough, ja.
3 meals 'til panic, 3 wake-ups 'til riots, an' knowin' is half the battle.
watch the people who watch the indicators
ya want a rope ta stay, use 3 wraparounds
no door? Use a window.
Tetra: d' ye have ta let it linger?
If ya gotta ask, y'ain't gotta ask.
The devil owns the fence
mosquito, the most dangerous creature in the world
where are the birds?
Pirouette for torque
Gate guard: horse factory from used glue
orchids
S: philo-clones are like a picture of faces and candle holder
boar hunt: whip-poor-will calls and cockatoo mating trills
I can dig that
gimme some sugar, baby
P at inn, curl up, sigh in sleep, grab Z tit
S: Tits McGee over there
by your command
okami: phenomenal cosmic power in an itty bitty living space.
S: security; 2nd or 3rd floor, indoor halls, escapes via balcony
no limping unless it's useful
walk away, but don't burn bridges
if woody had gone straight to the police, this would never have happened
S taught P recruiting, Z taught her contacts
Stilton loaded potatoes soaked in garlic butter and coarse salt
like eggs much? Nope, but you do.
Tschüß
light cigars w/ cantrip, no need for matches and such, and quiet enough to blend in w background mag
saltwater air: tar heavy in it
S takes care of Imperial security, T partnered w/ P on sci-mag tech
heavy metal: alien sphere?
Tetra alias en route to docks
XKCD?
S: Lip reading
freeport fog inversion, low lying bank; low tide scent, rotting seaweed and dried fish
ship stills waters
captain of my soul
Z: to walk, to dream, to love...
zeppole
strawberry jelly and Boston cream doughnuts
Z: hide in the quiet, still moments...
Sheik had lifted P with no strain, or even any seeming effort at all
Murphy, The Imp of the Perverse
honeyed oat bran, matzo meal w/ bananas and blueberries
'sa'ight, 'sall good.
Exterminate, assimilate, bacon cheeseburger.
Jelly baby?
Tea, Earl Grey, hot; make it so.
Yu mo gwai gui fai di zau [Evil demons and malevolent spirits, be gone]
beef lo mein, broccoli cheddar bisque over salmon
P starts doing magical girl V-fingers across her eyes, Ruru thinks its cute
Z notices P's reaction to manga girl in tuxedo-like business suit; has one tailored as a surprise
Z has a thing for P in garter belt and stockings
zug zug
would you like to play a game?
Grr... arrgh...
red vs blue?
“...and don't call me Shirley.”
Unspeakably Violent Jack, the Bull-Buggering, Priest-Killer of No Fixed Abode
Wabbit season
Kodiak marmoset
Now that the Scooby Gang is back together...
Jeez, Louise!
Laoren's staff: edged w/ pointed tip & bulbous base
damn skippy
why soyt'enly!
NOTE: dig into f/x of encyc on light world, 1 year later
w/ Peach's fighting training, she qualifies as a Childe
Dorsai
c'mon a'ready, Norton!
Bibbity bobbity boo, shoot the hostage.
Tails explains physics and chemistry issues after flatworld discussion
Valles Marineris leading to Ouroboros
Farmer's “Dungeon” series?
Z → P: Te amo; tu eres mio.
D: when → whenever; “or either”; “all ate up”; “fixin' to”
manga: soul-devouring Daimons, cursed Atlantean Gods, betrayal, true love...
schooner bathroom note: “Toilet-cam for research purposes only!”
pizza rolls: Texas Pete, sniffs several ranch dressings suspiciously; Cholula on omelettes
S → P @ Dancing Badgers: Z's a chick magnet
Z: certain facility for languages.
Caïssa has alt facet as Scacchia
S: dog-ass tired
S: I swear one pound o' goose gives ten pounds o' juice – wait, that didn't come out right.
TANJ
badgers
meshugas
least we ain't covered in shrimp
mums: exploding cheerleaders
trolls: obsessed with footgear, overly fond of pixie dust, female trolls are trollops?
Badders in the Dwarven mountains, Wolfen in the Rygar Plains?
R: Anata wa hentai... desu.
So desu. Yoshi.
Z: hot pastrami on rye, heavy mustard, thin-sliced tomato
Peach: light freckling
Steampunk ALT-PHYS: rubber band refrig (no prob) w/ useful temp gradient (potential prob)?
If so, then Tails will likely start tinkering
Peach pirate burn potato skins
I don't see this making it to the narrative, but behind the scenes: ZxP mastercycle racing?
On a scale of one to ten, think of me as... an eleven. It's one higher.
S: ...as they do...
yer gonna love this gilly suit, P
contrast 32° vs. 27°
T more comfortable with signing than speech
DK gives Z his parole.
K: ever seen a world covered in shrimp?
WBD: without darkness, there can be no light.
S: Z's an emotional train wreck
Z: aye, I'm a fucking font of useless information.
P → Z: eyebrows & ears dance
So ne. yosh.
Mashed potatoes with Parmigiano-Reggiano, pancakes with mace and nutmeg

freeport gate guard = snuffy snorrison
S: when shall we five meet again?
S: P don't even write to family
wrong wrongness.
Photograv binocs run full spectrum and micro-tele range
Arrakis gets Dark Sun motif as well
DK voice sorta Vader sorta Darkness
stick to hinterlands and boondocks
l'amour est un oiseau rebelle
lamb & habanero jelly
LBFM: little blonde fuck machine
z scent cinnamon laced with vanilla
short-roll punches wing chun
P → Z: ooparts & serpentinization?
arrakis luddite cultists & giant worms, still suits, and what-his-name's electrodivers (Sand)
Chicharrones and chitterlings
skaven in north undercold
dagurashibanipal at geographic center
schumann resonance?
Goblins & dwarves: confound mechanism, summon imps, assholes for fun
Gházhakh heavy with {χ, t, k, ʁ}, the most common vowel being a voiced gasp
horizontally slit pupils
dwarves' magic simple but functional for ADL, low tech ~late bronze age
ice: traction, glare, thistle, scree, rime, cotton
outta the way, fucknuts
algroth: carnivorous horses <Eddings>, great gnashing teeth <Monty Python>
S now go do that voodoo that you do so well
S vaffanculo, stunado, minchia, cafone, and a partridge in a pear tree... vay ist mir.
S Pear and apple cobbler? Marinate with lemon juice and let sit for 30 minutes before filling.
S Croissants filled with shredded corned beef and a little sofrito
egg sarny: 1st nt. Intent mumbling about them
Sonic don't play that.
P → Z: more precious than salt
Z: that's because some idiot built a secret passage from the south wall to the treasure room.
Z → P: Troop = corps, corpse = tryp.
S: make a hole!
Nayrufest: Peach's brandy balls
varlet
owe ya a case o' beer
alien hand syndrome
Harvard business college
walk me through, like I got no clue whatcher sayin'
neighbor's dog
Grr, argh.
Manamoss in Undercold
lasagna
to what end?
Dead guy: he was a person, a subject, errant, Z responsible for all subjects' welfare
NPD-abuse survivors not alone: thousands
cross eye, tease dots?
Walking funny
D: better come up for air
okami accidental destruction, like closing door on bug
K can't use encyc because lack infrastructure – understanding and phys capability not same
WBD: split simultaneous over spectrum, like Dr's Clara
each wakes for periods between extended torpor
P: how many more decades spent prosecuting this war by half-measures?
Some would judge harshly for such pity
bitter dry cold sucks all moisture; smear fat on exposed skin
time war ships / starcraft icons
D: P wouldn't know manny blanco from a hole in the wall
badders isolationist
light world dream logic? Well, that's why dreams are life-like...
Dutch apple w oatmeal streusel
lelrli: they intend vs are intending
z wants s as commander; s tac not strat,m so prefer honor guard
grue venom violent paranoid deleriant if fluid xfer; contact only numbs and stones
skaven: squeak chitter hiss click
world covered in shrimp
T, as in Timeo Danaos et dona ferentes
play merry hells
play a different level of game, partly fairness partly different interest
thank you, non-sequitur smurf
chimichanga w habanero
pics or it didn't happen
sere scent of dust dispr days freeport
p debrief cold menace
map winds
arrakis: psykers & juicers?
s debrief mental patterns, focus weak spots, probabilities displayed as color-feeling
slowly I turned, step by step
s <flask> FFS, c'mere y'idiot <hug>
yo the camp
ahoy the ship
nazgul – minnow?
Trust me, my dick's bigger
draugr williwaws lost seasoning (boat? Ship.)
astartes more like ghost brigade
s thought z got rolled up or something
s: p focus food n sleep
z trains p; craves froyo and sex
s never wanna be a member of any club that'd have me s a member
stele w sign orc death arrow north uruk-lambo
minna – yatta!
R sinigs: hadya like it, hadya like it, Moto, moto, moto
gunga din
red in tooth and claw
ponce – sit on ass eatin' bon bons while some chick brings home the bacon
much rejoicing
vast tracts of land
z to scum, p glances at trees above n behind, s says casually nobody but these 5
my bad
t: super heavy elements, maybe
that's a fact jack
s → wbd you all read from the same playbook, or is it just prog'd into you?
Brontides in wolfen lands
post nano one piece n gregory benford great sky river n fairy tail
z p pick fight on nazgul to establish pecking order
back to dagur. S: we gotta schlep where now?
islands that move or disappear
peradventure
p gives z first true laugh; had w s, but not true mirth
wbd all versions imprisoned at once
p brush invis lint off z at BA
light world no dome, just change air refract like water drop surface to warp ice-light
have I your leif?
Thinks himself funny
nobody shivers timbers, lass
intestines reek of half-digested food, steam rising slowly
S -P “Remember what they didn't teach you at Harvard Business school?” <P: …?>
S: I got bupkis
I will not be pushed, filed, stamped, indexed, briefed, debriefed, or numbered!
coffee beans aged 20 years, fine ground, slow nel drip, final product aged 10 years in oak casks
(alcoholic)
Bearskin and Candida: Spelljammer 1889, deep space mermaids (look like seahorse / flatworm
combo), Blindbeard Willy, Lost Temple of Minekonas'lanòmon, giant space worm; Candida's growing
concerns finally reify mutant power from chronic exposure to interstitial energies (good for next battle
in Major Havoc / I, Robot / Robotron setting: work their way from Flintstones to Jetsons to Jupiter
Ascending w/ closing scene of Contact)
larunda lang pitch and lengthened

1st long seek
last long indicate
last up question
last down imperative
P → s: nayru reached back n got you here after mobius n woke you further back in first place as
retrocausal effect of having succeeded now1

s you guys gimme a headache. You really do. Y'know that, right?
<2nd wed> s: stop scratchin p'll kill ya. Try underwear maybe? Keep 'er from moidelizin' ya. <checks
wrist, no watch> ya got time.
P → S: why not more proactive

s too much, unfair to others, and not his way but maybe prog'd
diablo-hyrule path twists mario pipes, protal activated wbd's plan, sys now unstable boom if mach not
stabilized w input life, wbd sure no alt to undo pl;an hence perd on plain not here as sacr
machine rents fabric w retarded waves, quantum transactional fx, WBD right idea wrong interpretation,
something above used him (see The Big Game in legio)
T bitch physics db;

p maybe tau-teh 2 time axes and been only 7000 recently;
t really?;
P or suppressed knowledge, or civ manipulation by invisible reptiles, or...
pigswain's eye: Innsmouth, quiet, peaceful, normal; tense, moment hovering on abyss (then ears), air
shifts like a sound-test in silence
K: T understand subatomic particles?

T: yes and no.
T & P laugh
WBD mech: monstrosity comprising alien tech of dozens of worlds cobbled together; a kludge of
science-magic-zooi madness; Geiger-forms, Martian fungus, Tesla, The Fly' familiar to Sonic from the
files, Ruru recognizes bits from skimming pics in encyc
sandstorm, beige snowglobe
T works on blunt weapons for P, since she's not big on hurting people.
Mass tensor renormalizer:
1/4 mass move +5 atk/def/parry/dod
x4 impact +5dam/stun/K.O.
Hyperconcavity (ultranegative curvature) compresses rather than stab/slash gravstatic shock
P: Sonic had an easy manner with a rough exterior, as if a sleepy wolf were wrapped around a kitten.
To poke the wolf would be at one's own risk, but to near the kitten would be a greater folly.
MUST STEAL THESE RECIPES

1 Awakening: Sonic was originally a mindless drone under Robotnik's command. Nayru's blessing awoke him, causing him to rebel
and resulting up in his background story explored in the prequel “Book 0b, Sonic's Redemption”. One particular aspect of his
awakening was (and still is) his being granted (or stuck with, from his perspective) memories of multiple-world tangent versions of his
life (in addition to the mixed memories of his drone life and awakened-rebel life).
BuzzFeed re. ramen:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QtVL76gh09U
BuzzFeed re. peking duck:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NLVQ2qTFFxA
Tataki de cerf de boileau, chanterelles et ail des bois
https://ici.radio-canada.ca/tele/par-ici-l-ete/2016/complements/recette/1734/tataki-de-cerf-de-
boileau-chanterelles-ail-des-bois-vinaigrette-au-jus-de-viande
Gordon Ramsay's Top 5 Lamb Recipes
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T_oE5e7-Pow
S & P: Common as spoken in Light World is nearly same as that of Möbius – not very intelligible, but
close enough. Odds? Zillion to one.
dry-cold, tears at the skin, rips away moisture, goes right through yo, chisels into your skull; wet cold,
tiny snow clumps, rubbery scrunch, heavy on clothes and feet
S → Z: smell calm peaceful, happy sea?

No
peach, see?
S: Wolfen philosophy? Simple; “Badders? We don't need no stinkin' Badders!”.

Z: “Aye, and Badders are alike, summat. They'll accept your coin sooner than shun you, but will
hardly seek you out.
NPD: Your stuff is just my stuff that you haven't given to me yet, now hand it over or I destroy you.
<proceeds to destroy afterward, regardless.>
REMEMBER: Peach's focus on naginata; Zelda figures that it'd be a good choice for her, but she's just
not into it
PALLADIUM Romero-zombies:
NOT Dead Reign
MAYBE Monsters and Animals for PFRPG
Try using the stars under the animate control dead spell.
take a look at "Beyond the Supernatural"
PROBABLY Chaos Earth Resurrection. Sdc zombies.
Rifter 40 and 45 have the original Dead Reign setting info (severely cropped)
including the three original zombie types one of which is the basic Romero type.
Z's 3-page flashback story: this isn't me, not the real me... what you see now, what's left of me. I died.
Z nibbles P's wrist

D: go get a room – but I better see you tomorrow!
Z: “I've been thinking–”

S: “A dangerous past time, y'know?”
Z: “... I dunno...”
S: “–third base.”
S: we got a binary fuck-ton of it.

P: binary?
S: yeah. Y'know how a metric fuck-ton's got like, a thousand of whatever in it?
P nods.
S: well, a binary fuck-ton's got a thousand 'n' twenty four. It's bigger!
S: Hey, y'know, same as most people... crush yer enemies, see 'em driven before ya an' hear the
lamentations o' their women. What? O.K., a'ight! Honestly? Maybe a nice little village, a tree-sheltered
Hobbit hole, some rocks 'n' runnin' water, flower garden somewheres...
timeline jumble didn't hit everything; just as a fire often leaves some spots untouched, there are still
pockets of memory of the original past.
Stupid people think that everyone's as stupid as they are (20% on a 20 rupee bill? 4 rupees. Got handed
an abacus to work it out!)
S: Oh, yeah – fuckin' A! excellent use o' signals asshole! Ya wanna get the fuck outta the fuckin' way,
maybe?
beyond village: drizzle more than mist, just enough to annoy and wet, change in afternoon to fat lazy
spatter
Warbotdorf's Hyrule: You are a true believer; blessings of the State, blessings of the masses. Work hard,
increase production, prevent accidents, and be happy.
S @ Freeport: exit strategy, guys?

Consulate of Sarasaland, else Perimeter Road, else bolt-hole in Ouroboros
S → P: basic gun bits all same; holding thing, trigger thing, power thing, payload thing. Rest is just
bells 'n' whistles. All same in end.
P: might as well be using some stupid code names.

S & Z look at each other. Not a bad idea...
H2SO4? Password Vitriolix?
I'll be Spartacus.
No I'm Spartacus!
We could all be Spartacus, confuse the hell outta Warbotdorf... and ourselves.
watch how people behave when you're quiet, what they do and say... you'd be surprised what you learn
about them.
Could Peach get her hands on some ambrosia for Zelda? Not now, but later perhaps. It wouldn't make
much of a difference for Zelda, since she's an incarnation of Hylia, but the gesture behind it as a gift...
Pastrami, pastirma, pastón; same thing with pierogi, piroști, pyrohy, pīrādziņi; foods same but diff,
names same but diff. Learn 'em, notice 'em.
Grapplin', dancin' an' spinnin', joint locks 'n' nerve centers, Qi Gong or body hardenin'. Be like water: it
don't matter what forms I teach ya, as long as whatever ya do works fer you. The thing is ta take what
works fer you, dump the shit that don't, an' add yer own shit: you can do the stupidest shit in the world,
but if it kicks my ass, I can't say shit.
Ask Z 'n' Tails. If I ever turn on 'em, they either kill me or get the hell outta Dodge 'n' prob'ly kill me
later.
How many years since Z last got laid?

She tried a couple of times early on. Didn't work out. That's it.
Watch fer indicators in the flow o' things; false flags, dog 'n' pony shows, real 'n' fake hidden inside o'
each other. Watch for when things go dark. Be ready when the knock comes. Sometimes, there ain't
no first shoe droppin'. An' always look fer the fnords, especially left hand vs. right; ya get alotta
predictive programmin' an' soft disclosures. Gird yourself.
You can surf the edge of your anger, the very needle tip of your rage, but it's dangerous. It can consume
you and you'll never notice.
Long story short? Ya got no secrets. Assume everyone knows everything – 'cept when ya need 'em to,
'cause then nobody knows jack shit.
S tosses chestnut at P, no warning. She slaps it down. Good, now learn to predict when someone's
gonna throw shit before they even think of throwin' it. Know what will be, without needin' to know.
Trying to catch a snake is just too much work; simply catch it.
Vinegar isn't just vinegar, lemme tell ya. Aside from the obvious differences between white and red,
there's the fact that apple, grape, 'n' rice ain't alike at all, and nut'n, I mean nut'n, compares to Balsamic.
Shit, wait'l we really get goin'. You'll have some pretty strong opinions about olive oil in no time flat.
Oh, and wines? You'll go straight ta real Madeira every time, when it comes ta cookin' ingredients.
S: Don't go in the basement (Oingo Boingo, 1979) Lyrics,

Lumberjack (Monty Python, 1974) Lyrics
Saltibartops: Rickety tickety tin (Tom Lehrer, 1953) Lyrics
Icewall
Black Magic holes: never decided whether to include them or not

Any chance of The Yellow Submarine and crew reaching the Light World?
Immortal Wombat
level grind by default – if immortal, intent or not doesn't mean shit then
something remotely like kung fu panda,though that wasn't what I'd had in mind
Hanuman = Nadragh?
Map making programs
https://www.cartographersguild.com/showthread.php?t=1407 great list w/ explanations

https://shaudawn.deviantart.com/art/Free-World-Building-Software-176711930 meh...
https://alternativeto.net/software/campaign-cartographer/ so-so list-site
https://www.gimp.org/downloads/ good rep., bad learning curve

https://qgis.org/en/site/forusers/index.html
https://inkscape.org/en/release/0.92.3/
https://sourceforge.net/projects/autorealm/ looks easy, but still a learning curve
http://planetgenesis.sourceforge.net/
http://www.rptools.net/downloadsw/ not so great, as usual
http://www.hexographer.com/free-version/ trying this
Using AutoREALM for main work (see tutorial).

Gimp looks good, but too bloated (finally a basic-level tutorial!).
Inkscape has good reviews (see tutorial).
Krita & Paint.net (see plug-ins) might be good, too.
Blender 3d-oriented.
Unity 3D game world engine (see tutorial page, Q&A, and freebies).
MediBang Paint Pro.
Milton Paint (with tutorial)
Map-to-globe (I don't need, but you never know...).
Stereographic projection inversion: check into QGIS (and of course GDAL out of curiosity, even
though I probably won't go with that) and Synesthesiam's Invert (or an equivalent
Interesting medieval logistics information, though irrelevant to ZxP:

http://www222.pair.com/sjohn/blueroom/demog.htm
RPG-chess
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chess_(poem)#Reconstruction analyze this one for point results

also consider variant wherein individual pieces are entire PC parties using Allied Actions
https://topatoco.com/products/gws-ghostkitty?variant=39486526543 slingshot ghost kitty
https://topatoco.com/products/qc-cod-mug?variant=39582952079 coffee of doom mug
https://www.redbubble.com/people/schwaz/works/25463695-lamiia-bunny?cat_context=u-
tees&grid_pos=119&p=t-shirt&rbs=5df66558-354f-452c-b672-
a927f025ff64&ref=shop_grid&style=mens Miia
https://www.hottopic.com/cart dragon maid
still no Ruru shirt... :-(
&disable_polymer=true
https://forum.openoffice.org/en/forum/viewtopic.php?
f=7&t=4466&sid=6f08e78983fe1ab35445656b59dab40e&start=30#p404304 hyperlinking contents
http://amultiverse.com/comic/2010/06/17/ladies-choice/
http://goblinscomic.com/comic/08192005
AutoREALM:
Fonts:
Countries Gentium Book Basic 4th blue on left
Features Gabriola 4th brown on right
Gothic AutoREALM Blackletter
Scratchy Quill-Pulp AutoREALM Mentelin
Middle Earth: H S L R G B - A
Land EDGE 4th brown from right
Land sand FILL 29 / 220 / 229 * 254 / 248 / 232
Land sage FILL 31 / 234 / 243 * 254 / 248 / 232
113 / 73 / 234 * 228 / 240 / 236
Ocean EDGE 132 / 184 / 208 * 195 / 231 / 247

Ocean dark 132 / 191 / 194 * 167 / 221 / 245
Ocean light 130 / 51 / 222 * 232 / 238 / 240
Lake dark 133 / 157 / 139 * 151 / 227 / 187

Lake light 153 / 177 / 209 * 171 / 247 / 207
Rivers TRY 170 / 153 / 125 * 50 / 50 / 200 – 60
Mountain 21 / 117 / 161 * 212 / 173 / 130
Icon lib:
Cadwy keep hills compass
City capital county seat town hollow hamlet solid
Collines dune
Compass north modern map scale short
Denys yuca big yuca small
Entrances Pavilion Jpns arch
Houses 1-3 tower, stone, sq A pyramid 5
Interior rubble stone
Markers star
Megaliths Trilithon
Mine & srvy mine axes
Overland desert
Structures turret
Terrain volcano mount med mount small marsh grasses
Terrain add mountains 03 [archipelagos]
Trees tree 1 summer
Veg add palm cactus dead tree
Veg redwood
Water ship
https://softwarerecs.stackexchange.com/questions/51026/how-to-turn-a-complex-geometric-figure-
inside-out-win-10-64-bit
https://www.cartographersguild.com/showthread.php?t=41893
How to turn a complex geometric figure inside out (Win 10, 64-bit)?
This question falls under several categories {software, computer graphics, graphic design, art,
cartography, geographic information, mathematical transforms}, but the software (specifically for
Windows 10 [64-bit]) to perform this function is what I'm seeking.
I'm trying to shift geometric figures across a sphere:
[INSERT FIG “Sleeve-like transform on genus 0 topology”
C:\Users\Rock\Downloads\+ Newer-er\RPGs\Icewall\FE maps\Antarctic transform\Sleeve-
transform on genus 0 topology.png]

As you can see from the picture above, all points are meant to follow meridional paths, stretching the
figure outward _around_ the surface's radial slices like an embedded rubber band until it crosses a great
circle, then contracting back down to its original size a the far end of the sphere (so that the figure is
now turned inside out).
Basically, it's a question of flipping a figure's borderline radial distances around its mean radius
(everting dents and inverting bulges). I know what I want, but I don't know how to get there.
It's clearly not a rotation, translation (in the usual sense of being identical to a rotation), reflection
(though that's close), scale, shear, or skew. The closest terminology that I've imagined so far is a
"sleeve-transform on genus 0 topology", but I haven't found the right terms for a decent Google search
on the underlying mathematical techniques with which to approach the transform.
Right now, I'm doing it by hand -- finding the inscribing and circumscribing circles, taking the centroid
as a locus from which to measure the edge-coordinates, and flipping the annulus of circles around the
mean annular radius. A pain in the ass, but functional for figures that contain their centroid within their
boundary (simple polygons are easy, but not something complex like a country's border, and definitely
no good for figures with an external centroid (e.g.: the majuscule letter "F", or a sans serif minuscule
"f").
SEE SIMILAR QUESTION (mapping flat → globe) AND ITS ANSWERS AT

https://www.facebook.com/groups/Mapit/permalink/1726889547359048/
SEE ALSO: https://www.maptoglobe.com/Hk0lyaLMX?key=BkgAgJpLfX
https://boardgames.stackexchange.com/questions/42748/what-are-the-probabilities-of-the-hands-in-
cripple-mr-onion
What are the probabilities of the hands in Cripple Mr Onion?
I've tried to find programs that are up to the task of working out the hypergeometric distribution of
Cripple Mr Onion, and tried working out the combinations by hand, but no luck in either case.
The game involves 8 suits (104 cards in toto) and permits 2-7 players. The [full rules of Cripple Mr
Onion][1] are somewhat involved, but salient to my question is the hands:
1. Bagel: two cards that total 20; {TT, TP, PP, or 9A}.
2. Two-card Onion: two cards that total 21; {TA or PA}.
3. Broken Flush: at least three cards that total 16-21 (inclusive), with ***all but one*** of the cards in
the same suit-pair.
4. Three-card Onion: three cards that total 21; e.g.: ATT, 56T, 579.
5. Flush: at least three cards that total 16-21, with all of the cards in the ***same*** suit-pair.
6. Four-card Onion: four cards that total 21; e.g.: A55T, 2469, 3378.
7. Broken Royal: a **special case** of a three-card onion where the

three cards are specifically 678 (of any suit-pairs).
8. Five-card Onion: five cards that total 21; e.g.: A235T, 23466, 33348.
9. Royal: **another special** three-card onion being 777.
10. Six-card Onion: six cards that total 21; e.g.: A2233T, A23456.
11. (Wild Royal: this is a combination that may only be played when eights are wild [see full rules'
modifiers], since it consists of three wild eights.)
12. Seven-card Onion: seven cards that total 21; e.g.: A223445.
13. Double Onion: two picture cards and two aces {PAPA}.
14. Triple Onion: three picture cards and three aces {PAPAPA}.
15. Lesser Onion: four picture cards and four aces {PAPAPAPA}.
16. Great Onion: five picture cards and five aces {PAPAPAPAPA}.
[Although TA = PA, it seems that that applies to only your basic two-card onion, and not to the higher-
valued multi-Onion hands.]
There are modifiers that can apply (though only the first one is mandatory), but they only change card
values -- they do not cause any exchanging of cards to occur, thus have no effect upon the actual
distribution of the cards themselves.
Given the above, what probability of occurring does does each hand have?
[1]: http://www.justforests.org/custom/public/files/cripple-mr-onion.pdf
High class Sharon – Tenga Stewart

Lean on me – Supreme Team?
It soon be done – Shabba?
Ramdance masters –
Oversize –
She make a good wife –
Inspector General find fingerprints on the murder weapon –

Book 1, Seize The Deity - Zelda X Peach ALPHA VER 0.7.d.1

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Book 1, Seize The Deity - Zelda X Peach ALPHA VER 0.7.d.1

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Seize the Deity page 1 of 310

Seize the Deity

NB: See https://archiveofourown.org/works/24232528 for most recent completed version (and

~~~ ~~~ ~~~

~~~ ~~~ ~~~

This is an ALPHA version. The file name indicates my estimation of its

Simplest of all, just go to

Book 0a, Zelda Invictus

Light World sidequels:

07 To be (Zelda x Peach world)

Icewall shared universe:

...and many more at

/// --- ///

Imperial Princess Zelda Hylia of Hyrule, a Hylian, arguably the protagonist

Sonic the Hedgehog

Miles “Tails” Prower

Princess Kitana of Edenia

Wila “Friday” Mesquite, a Deku Scrub

Warbotdorf, the Big Bad

Shīfù Lǎorén, the Immortal Wombat [no picture available]

Chapter 1: The Maiden of Chapel Perilous

“Good morning, Stowit.”

Peach kept thinking about Sheik.

uncomfortable with Peach's curiosity.

Chapter 2: The Perils of Peach

“Lizard bacon, anyone?” Peach sought to defuse the situation.

any validity to it.

early. A wet, fluffy snow clung to everything.

“Gutår, båd natt och dag!

Gutår, båd natt och dag!

Time not-time. Sound that isn't.

“Hit me,” he told her.

An hour passed as Peach and Tails readied breakfast.

Sonic placed a stone on the grid.

As sunrise came, Sonic took Peach to the nearby pond.

As Peach began to eat, Sonic asked her how it tasted.

about this sauce – what's it tellin' ya?”

“Another head hangs lowly, child is slowly taken,

Zelda stopped moving, her body rigid.

“But, you see, it's not me, it's not my family

Thunder only happens when it's rainin',

Fishing through Zelda's tunic, Peach retrieved her cigar case.

As lunchtime reared its head, Sonic wheeled in a cart.

“...'cause I am the man who will fight for your honor,

Hell of a coinci...dence – oh, hell no.

“One last thing,” Zelda said, holding up a tube.

“Gabba-gabba, we accept you, we accept you, one of us;

Peach's tears were back in force throughout the song.

Zelda sighed internally as she watched Peach's hair shorn down.

Zelda's heart jumped.

Peach awoke to the sweet tea-like scent of a cigar.

“Moonlight before my bed,

lower my head and pine for home.”

“It's bittersweet, but beautiful. Who wrote it?”

“No single thing abides, but all things flow.

“That one's Lucretius, a poet-philosopher who lived even further back.”

When you were here before,

you float like a feather

but I'm a creep,

but I haven't heard anything bad about them.”

“Are they...?” Zelda couldn't finish her question.

upward at him briefly in a V-shape.

“Ooh, baby, do you know what that's worth?

~ ~ ~~~

~ ~ ~~~