Kuboen Honeydip, second eldest son of Goelselmo and Erue Honeydip, steps through the portal with his helt sealed and dumping air, a feature Daniel added to Fievegal specialist armor in order to ensure smoke, visible and invisible airborne poisons, and lack of oxygen don’t kill the wearer.
And, there is smoke in abundance on the other side of the portal.
Fortunately, wherever the airship crashed, the mana fire isn’t upon it yet.
Kuboen can hear the hull of the vessel groan and pop, threatening to collapse even more at any mont. A particularly sharp crunch startles the feline soldier, causing him to drop to a crouch to duck.
A small figure approaches the feline man, surveying the warped and destroyed gunnery bay. “Smoke is thick. Be careful of fire.”
“Obviously,” growls the gatonine as his ears twitch inside of their armor.
“No offense ant, Lord Kuboen. Klur ans helt will fool senses. Make us think it’s cold when hot. Big warn Emperor give.”
“Tch!” clucks the feline with his tongue. He’s thankful Klur took the ti to say it, but once more, he’s perturbed that everyone always seems to ntion Daniel as so sort of savior of the world. True, the Fievegal may prove to be the only force on the continent that can stop the mana fire, but much of the Fievegal’s unprecedented gap from the norm is due to one person.
Klur calls out, “Princess Silence? Grendel Six and Lord Kuboen. Call out so we find.”
“Princess Silence!” As he creeps forward, listening and scanning the smoky weapon bay, the nausea everyone describes from the ‘strange mana’ of the arcane spell-fire is gripping at the feline man’s stomach, but Kuboen’s Fievegal armor, made with a layered alloy of mithril and so other tal, is managing to limit the amount reaching his body, and thus, interfering with his natural mana.
Klur seems less cautious, though the goblins of Grendel Six have undeniably been through as many or more harrowing experiences under the Fievegal than Kuboen has in his entire life, with the battle against Yaulwembor being at the very top.
The gatonine finds so tal parts with magic crystals, and he looks back at the portal, which casts and eerie glow through the smoke and dirt choking the air.
Though it’s hard to make out completely, the smoke does add a sort of delineation or reification to the phenonon that seems to be causing the core issue; the portal not closing.
Streaking and streaming through the smoke and joining the swirling mass of energy that is the portal itself are colorful ribbons of energy, gossar and fleeting like a breath in the cold and windy air, but perfectly visible for the briefest of monts each in turn. The strears of light are rather collectively coming from Kuboen’s left as he’s facing the portal, which, if orientation is directly relative to the portal’s facing when entering and leaving, ans that it is to the right side of the airship after crashing, given the gatonine and goblin soldiers entered the portal from the sa way Wenlianna was dumped out.
That being the case, and the darkness the gunnery bay is in, the mana fire must be in that direction, and Kuboen has a sense of direction again. “Klur,” calls out the gatonine. “Mana fire is to the ninety-right position from entry.”
He can see light from a magic tool the goblin is employing, though both of them have fairly good night vision, and there is so light that has worked its way in from the outside. Klur looks in his direction, looks at the portal, and then aims his light in the appropriate direction. “Correct,” states Kuboen.
“Klur agrees. We must find princess quickly. Princess Silence! Klur of Fievegal and Lord Kuboen of Mattarglos here to retrieve. Wenlianna safe.”
“Princess Silence!” shouts Kuboen. There’s not much noise other than the eerie pops and groans, but even this is enough that it could be hard to hear depending on where she landed.
And, if she’s unconscious or worse, then they may have to focus on the more important task; preventing the portal from remaining open when the mana fire reaches it.
Another sharp, tallic screech startles the gatonine soldier, and even Klur whirls to aim his light towards the noise. They aren’t under attack, but it’s quickly dawning on Kuboen that the two relatively “standard” soldiers could be crushed to death in the span of just a mont. Kuboen hasn’t had to lead a siege against a castle, but he did see the aftermath of a bridge collapse and how inescapable it was for the people on it because of how sudden it was.
We need to move more quickly.
“Klur! I’m taking my helt off! If I fall out, leave and report to the Citadel!”
“Do not die, Lord Kuboen,” shouts Klur in reply. “You have plenty of shine for to claim if you do.”
The feline man scoffs. He has spent so ti around goblins that aren’t trying to kill him now, and their sense of humor is defined by two things primarily; death and looting. They don’t really fear death the way most people do, which explains the ‘wave tactics’ notorious when goblins are used as an overwhelming force by the Demon Covenant that preceded the Fievegal’s sudden rise. And, virtually everything they can count since being crash-educated by the Fievegal is still generally ‘calculated’ in what the goblins could steal, even from their allies. Supposedly, the Fievegal enforces rules about this, such that sentintal items are left alone, and the body itself isn’t to be mutilated further than the combat that lead to the deaths, but the goblins themselves certainly aren’t shy about joking about stealing each others’ and anyone else’s belongings if they fall in battle. Kuboen isn’t sure what the line is for allies who fall, and he doesn’t want to be the one to find out.
“Just rember, Klur, the rules apply to all mbers of the Fievegal, and I am not far off of being invested with a formal title under the Fievegal. So, your ‘shine’ is just as fair ga if you die.”
Klur laughs, and Kuboen takes one last deep breath of ‘trustworthy’ air before removing his Fievegal-issue helt.
Instantly, everything he and Klur discussed initially is proven true. It’s not boiling hot, like a fire is nearby, but the room is uncomfortably dry and warr than what he would believe his environnt was. His nose is imdiately filled with the unmistakeable, bitter odor of burning wood, resin, and fabric, as well as the earthy tones of the dirt and tals scattered through the air in particulate form. He keeps his breathing shallow in case there really are poisons, and he stays below the smoke, since it’s far thicker just a few feet off the ground.
Shenwulves are notorious pretty much the world over, so far as Kuboen has heard, for being the best scent-trackers there are. Dattakoriens and gatonines are good, and there’s a race of rather reclusive bear-kin in the far east said to be better, but shenwulves have instincts and training that are unmatched for finding virtually anything from even tiny traces of sample scents.
That said, Kuboen has taken part in a training regin with a retired shenwulf knight that Goelselmo brought into the Honeydip Barony as one of the family’s guards, and he learned how to isolate familiar scents and identify “secondary” scents, such as the second person of two people who were directly in contact for a ti.
It would be easier if Wenlianna was right next to him, since blood is the easiest way to isolate a person’s unique aroma, but the gatonine paid enough attention to know a few things, even if he’s not nearly as close to the Fievegal’s actual inner circle beyond his peripheral closeness through Gwenesphia.
Arachne is a huge, adult “daughter” to Daniel, Vaergraes, and Hekate because she was summoned by magic, so her age is irrelevant. If Daniel has a “granddaughter”, it’s because that granddaughter was summoned by one of his children, the only one being old enough and skilled enough in magic being Arachne.
Arachne has that slightly wax-like sll, so assuming Silence is a Death Knight… There. That’s Wenlianna, so this… Yes, this…
He crawls low on the floor, checking all around quickly. Humans, elves, dwarves, and boruans typically snicker when shenwulves or gatonines get down on all fours to track a scent, but only if they’ve never served with a scent tracker when there’s an ergency. Kuboen would be cautious about when and where, but his long-running biases against goblins prior to the Fievegal’s appearance makes him not worried about Klur’s opinion on the matter.
That said, the goblin stays close, scanning the area around them. He doesn’t snicker, he doesn’t mock. He simply waits patiently for Kuboen to work.
The gatonine can’t help himself, and he asks, “You aren’t planning to stab in the back, are you?”
“Stab? Why would I? Should I?” asks Klur bluntly.
“I don’t know. I expected a joke about what I’m doing.”
“Hmm. Scenthunter is a crucial role. Why would Kl-Why would I try to distract or insult task? Princess is in danger.”
“R-Right…” murmurs Kuboen, a bit dumbfounded by the straightforward honesty of the goblin. Klur barely stands taller than Kuboen in a low hands and feet crawl, but the goblin carries himself like a proper military commander, even if his jokes are a bit grim.
A sound draws Klur’s attention while Kuboen follows the slightly waxy scent that crosses over Wenlianna’s most recently. He finds a droplet of faintly glowing liquid that has a strange, almost pink hue. It’s far from the color of blood, but it has the distinct, strong scent that Kuboen faintly recognized from Wenlianna’s person. It’s not a potion or potation, both of which Kuboen would recognize based on their core ingredients. Potations, specifically, would ruin his sense of sll for the rest of his day even hours after they’re spilled. Potions aren’t as bad, but they do have a very distinct and short list of required ingredients that are easy to recognize.
This substance has the ‘flavor’ of blood, but almost none of the appearance.
That said, it’s the best lead he has so far, so he trusts his gut. Kuboen has never seen Arachne bleed, so he has no idea if a magic summons’ blood is like his, but he does know that crawgistes bleed blue, and they are ‘super-charged’ warriors on land, even if they are limited to wet or humid environnts. They don’t have the sa strength as a boruan adult, but Kuboen has seen them snap swords and spears in half in an instant with a single clamp of their foreclaws. And, even if they don’t break the weapon, if they manage to get a hold of their opponent’s or enemy’s weapon, their much smaller ‘hands’ on their ‘dexterity arms’ are still typically ard with close-range lee weapons that they all but pull their opponent into. Kuboen generally knows how to beat them with his agility, but he doesn’t like fighting them because they move in twitchy, sporadic movents when in battle, going from slow, leisurely powerhouses in the sea to unpredictable spring-loaded sunderers; destroying weapons and armor so their allies can finish off the enemy.
Kuboen expects that there are demon-kin with different blood, as well. He wouldn’t be surprised to learn that dragons bleed liquid gold. So, he follows the apparent blood-trail.
Klur, likewise, stays within a couple of steps of the gatonine knight as he searches. There aren’t enemies to be diligent of, but the goblin doesn’t lower his guard.
Instead, he calls out as the trail leads them deeper into the carnage, “Princess Silence. Klur of Fievegal Grendel Six. Make big noise, and we hear you.”
She must be unconscious, thinks Kuboen. Or, knowing how powerful these Fievegal demon-kin are, she might’ve escaped. Though… what if she simply unsummoned after perishing. Normally, that’s all that happens, right? Arachne is abnormal, but very few people have t Silence. We may be searching for dissipated mana at this point…
He looks at another splatter of the blood, which forms his trail. No. Normal summons don’t bleed. Most are closer to transparent ghosts than to living things. She must be alive. Wait… Is that…
Kuboen catches a faint whiff of sothing slightly familiar from the last few monts. Rather than the almost-chalky sll of Silence’s blood, it has the more waxy sll that fits what he detected in Wenlianna’s proximity.
They’re close, and he picks up the pace, carefully maneuvering across the destroyed wreckage and snapped timbers.
“We’re close, Klur! She’s nearby!”
“Confird!”
Klur jogs ahead. Being cave and tunnel-dwellers, goblins do have better natural dark-vision than gatonines and dattakoriens, though the smoke obviously makes it difficult regardless. Kuboen can feel his eyes watering a bit from the smoke, but his nose will direct him straight to Silence if Klur can’t find her by jogging around in the imdiate area.
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The gatonine scion can see Klur’s light move up and down as he climbs over so part of collapsed superstructure, descending behind a part of the deck above that collapsed down into the gunnery bay.
“Fabric!” calls out Klur. “Fabric and that glowing milk!”
Kuboen is montarily confused by ‘milk’, but he realizes that the apparent blood does in fact look like milk or a heavier cream, but with magical elents to it.
Kuboen stays low, but he dashes rather than crawls, keeping his helt close.
Klur’s light is easy to find, and the gatonine rushes to the goblin Field Marshal. The Grendel Six leader aims his light towards a part of the wreckage where a panel of the outer hull was crushed upwards with the impact with the ground, and panels of the cannon have buried it, leaving just a scrap of white, silk-like fabric peeking out. And, as Klur ntioned, the apparent blood has pooled directly below the fabric, with a few trails forming lines down the sloped and ruined floor.
Both n quickly search around the wreckage, and Kuboen finds the contours of a body under so of the rubble.
“It’s her!” calls out the gatonine. Klur rushes over, and he does what he can to try to squeeze through any gap he can find, since he’s smaller than Kuboen. But, his armor and helt block him, and Kuboen doubts they’ll be able to move her out from under the rubble, even if they can get underneath. It’s extrely heavy timbers and structural panels.
The goblin grows quickly frustrated, and he takes his helt off. “Lord Kuboen, return to the glow-door.”
“What are you talking about? We’ll both go and retrieve…”
“No. Get back. Klur will free Princess.” The goblin flexes his left arm, which is distinctly tallic, rather than armored. Kuboen doesn’t know it for certain, but it does remind him of the various golems of the Citadel, and the ‘hollow’ look of the joints, especially the fingers.
“What are you planning?”
“Klur has limited wisdom. Limited magic,” replies the goblin with a confident, fearless tone. “But, that magic is fit for Grendel Six. Kuboen needs to be safe so you can save Princess. If K-, if I fall, Kuboen save Princess first.”
Kuboen hesitates. Goblins are definitely not notorious for acts of heroism and camaraderie. In fact, no one knows Princess Silence, since she didn’t exist more than a few hours ago. But, because soone else important wishes for her to be protected, Klur is throwing everything Kuboen knows about goblins back in his face.
The diminutive Grendel Six leader makes an adjustnt on the outer shell of his left arm, which clicks sothing into place. Patterns on the arm start to glow, illuminating mana circuits with a deep red color that slowly pulses with a golden hue like a slow ‘breathing’ loop.
The goblin tests his ability to climb in through the gap in the rubble, and without his helt, he is able to force his head in under to position himself fearlessly under the precarious, pulverizing weight of the rubble that appears to have pinned or crushed Silence.
He positions himself on his back, palming the rubble above Silence. “Fall back, Lord Kuboen. If this goes wrong, even my shine probably won’t be left.”
“Damnit…” hisses the feline man. Even now, the goblin is still making his grim jokes about stealing each other’s equipnt and ‘loot’ after the fact. “Hang on.” Kuboen undoes the straps holding his cuirass together, removing his chest plate quickly. “Place this over your face, at least. Quickly! I’ll fall back and map the path to the portal. We’re all getting out of here.”
Klur nods, carefully sliding Kuboen’s chest plate over his face. He doesn’t need to see what he’s about to do.
He needs to survive it.
With that, Kuboen says as he carries his own helt and back plate, “Survive, Field Marshal Klur. I will be right back to get you both.”
“Very well, Lord Kuboen. I’ll be waiting patiently with the Princess.”
The gatonine nods and jogs back the direction they ca, making ntal notes of direction now that a clear path to the portal is his highest priority once the retrieval of Klur and Silence are complete.
“I’m clear!” calls out the feline man once he reaches the glowing portal. He can see even more strears of magical energy, and so of the glow from the outside has intensified, more visible from the portal area thanks to the opening ‘venting’ the smoke, and no signs of active fires within the cannon bay.
Though, that will remain to be seen with what happens next.
A distinct, unnatural sound reaches Kuboen’s ears first. For a couple of seconds, the air isn’t just filled with this noise, it is contaminated with it. It’s not ‘loud’, per se, but annoying, itching at Kuboen’s ears and demanding that he retreat from the sound. Even when he covers his left ear with his free left hand, realizing the blast is coming, the ringing seems to find his senses with perfect, unstoppable creeping power. It doesn’t ‘pierce’, so much as it simply perates. It reminds the gatonine of the distinct, unnatural whine that cos from Daniel’s ‘railgun’, which charges up a powerful burst of lightning magic as part of the attack.
And, after just a couple of seconds, this foreboding, rising tone of warning portends a sharp, violent, and brutal blast like one of the bundles Daniel used against the mantaroucks.
The soundwave slams Kuboen’s ears, and he regrets not putting his helt back on sooner. He cries out as he drops his helt and back armor to cover his right ear, which caught the full volu. He can feel the clangs and booms of debris being thrown around, rather than hear them right now.
After that initial mont, the situation kicks back in, and he quickly returns to task. “Damn! That crazy goblin!” The gatonine quickly scrambles back to the location where they found Silence. The smoke is agitated and swirling, but sothing even worse has revealed itself in just the monts that Klur was preparing his dangerous gamble.
Bright light has started to cut through the smoke, and a sickening wave crawls across Kuboen’s skin, digging deep into his soul.
Damn! We’re out of ti!
Kuboen runs as fast as he can, finding Klur and Silence amidst the wreckage. The goblin’s golem arm is lying several yards away, and he coughs weakly under Kuboen’s backplate, which drew blood where it cut him. But, he appears to still be alive. The sharllkolle armor plate protected his life by diffusing the blast, but he’s still in mortal danger for more than one reason.
Silence, for her part, looks nothing like Arachne, nor anyone else, save the silent ‘angels’ that whisked the fallen through the portal to the safety of the Citadel. And, wounded among the rubble as she is, she looks pitiful, rather than elegant like an angel.
But, there’s no ti for that. Kuboen quickly hefts the fallen woman up onto his shoulders. He knows the Fievegal military has been practicing ‘Otherworld dicine’ that involves unprecedented techniques to increase survival in the field, but the gatonine scion hasn’t had a chance to learn it. Even if he did, the mana fire has breached the hull of the airship. It is spreading rapidly, consuming the walls and ceiling even more quickly than the floor alone. Parts start falling and impacting the ground, though the black flas lined with colorful mana swallow the materials faster than they can hit each other, in so cases, vanishing in puffs of white embers that continue to spread the terrifying false conflagration like locusts warming over a field.
Damn! thinks Kuboen to himself. Damn it! He braces Silence with one of his arms, and he grabs Klur by the collar of his armored vest, which has a fabric outer layer to make it easier for stealth.
The gatonine takes a deep breath and focuses. He’s not a boruan, nor is he even a shenwulf. Gatonines are a bit stronger than humans on average, but generally only in short bursts. His flexibility and agility are almost completely useless right now.
That said, he only has to make it about fifty feet. It’s a particularly uneven fifty feet, but he can do it.
Kuboen puts everything out of his mind, and he starts walking. Klur is dead weight, and Silence is tall and awkward to carry. But, the scion is able to pick up speed. It’s still a slog, and the glow is starting to fill the entire gunnery bay in every direction. The mana fire is all but swallowing him, surrounding him. The only safe escape now is the portal.
Kuboen can see it. It is rely ten feet ahead. The portal is in reach, appearing in the smoke like a beacon of hope.
But, it’s not to be.
Kuboen narrowly kicks back when he hears the structure above him shear. He topples, dropping Silence as he trips over Klur. He watches in horror as the black flas of the mana fire close in on the portal, looming over him like a titan glaring down at the feline man like a lion to a mouse.
A timber that collapsed and was very obviously burning collapses towards the portal, and the worst case scenario becos realized as the swirling doorway of magical energy becos a wavering whirlpool of unending transversal to the heart of the Fievegal’s unrivaled stronghold.
Whatever he feels for Daniel, specifically, for pulling his sister into a harem where she is one of the lowest ranked, by all appearances, the Fievegal, and more specifically, the Citadel, may be the only thing standing between the mana fire and the destruction of everything it can reach.
Which, if it remains as unstoppable as it has so far, may just be the entire world.
***
Veiranoei ponders the man she’s laying against as he sleeps. He has driven himself to absolute raggedness out of guilt for not dealing with the mana fire when it was small. He doesn’t know what he needs to do, short of his worst weapon imaginable, and Zuzia and Rikuto have both forbidden him from using it while they make efforts to try to convince Urflasdat to evacuate.
Veiranoei knows where they’re all coming from. As a knight, she wanted to protect people, especially her Grandfather. Kalegrynten is still going strong for his age, but he’s still just one man.
That said, Veiranoei never thought she would accept another man after her fiance and the treatnt he subjected her to.
But, her relationship with Daniel is pretty much perfect. He’s not threatening, he’s not demanding, and he’s not arrogant. In fact, he could do with a bit more arrogance in general, but he genuinely treats Veiranoei as an equal. She hasn’t tried to test her footing against one of the other Empresses, but even they treat her with respect, regardless if they are dragons, demon-kin, or goblins.
And, for the mont, she is cuddled against Daniel’s side to simultaneously enjoy his body warmth while also making sure that he actually stays asleep. And, Yaulwembor is curled up in an uncomfortable-looking posture next to them, peacefully watching the feline woman and Daniel.
If I was more powerful, would things have turned out this way? I’m hardly an Empress, but then, neither are any of the others. And, Daniel… She smiles at Daniel as she pets his cheek. You’re too… kind to be a proper Emperor, aren’t you? Is that why you want us to lead? Because we can make the hard decisions?
Veiranoei lets herself rest against his shoulder, drifting in and out of sleep herself. She understands Daniel’s anxiety about the mana fire. And, if Rikuto’s words are true, it could get far worse at any mont.
The only obstacle is whether or not mistakes are made.
While she’s pondering this, movent draws Veiranoei’s attention from the bed, and it startles her a little.
Hekate is suddenly sitting up, but she is wearing a surprisingly serious expression. She’s not scowling at Veiranoei, nor does she seem to be confused. Sapphire blue eyes scan the room for a mont, and Hekate climbs out of the bed.
Veiranoei whispers, hoping Hekate can hear her, “H-Hekate, I… I’m just making sure Daniel gets so rest.”
The feldrok teen looks at them, turning her intense, deep-blue gaze on the two as Veiranoei carefully tries to sit up without disturbing the human.
But, sothing is off. Not a single emotion flashes across Hekate’s face. She rarely tries to do anything without Daniel if he’s imdiately present. She can function independently, but she also doesn’t shy away from trusting Daniel completely with everything in her life.
Veiranoei hopes she soday has soone like that, soone in whom she can trust wholeheartedly with everything.
That said, Hekate is not acting like Hekate. She walks towards the edge of the tent with a serious, steely gaze and an upright, officious posture in spite of being in basic innerwear.
“H-Hekate!?” calls out Veiranoei, surprised to not have even been greeted by the fox-eared girl. Daniel stirs, and Veiranoei quickly coos, “Shh, shh. Rest, Daniel. I’ll handle it.”
She quickly jogs after the barefooted teen. Hekate has walked out into the sunlight of the afternoon while the mana fire very obviously burns on the horizon. Veiranoei quickly urges, “Hekate, let’s get you back inside. Your mana still needs to replenish…”
“I am not this child,” replies an unfamiliar voice coming out of a familiar mouth. The person wearing Hekate’s body looks up at the gatonine, who is horrified. Generally speaking, it’s very difficult for a mage with lower mana to be able to mind-control one of such a high ability as Hekate. It can be done, but Hekate practices so passive techniques to bolster her resistance, which is far above and beyond anything Veiranoei needs to understand. She can resist only if she has Daniel’s equipnt, but skilled mind-control mages are rare, thankfully.
Regardless, as she looks at Hekate’s face, Veiranoei very much doesn’t feel like she’s looking into Hekate’s eyes anymore.
Wait… Blue? Aren’t Hekate’s eyes…?
“For ease of understanding, I am this child’s ancestor, inherited when the human slew the feral child.”
“Lugrae?” asks the gatonine, knowing about the na that Hekate and Daniel gave him to morialize the ancient guardian of the Citadel.
“That child has no aning to . But…” ‘Hekate’ looks to the west. “The child’s ho is in danger…”
“Th-The Citadel? How do you know? I think the radios have been failing…”
“There are many who reside within the Citadel, lingering and guiding.” The imposter looks down at Hekate’s hands. “The child’s mana is far too depleted…” ‘She’ looks at Veiranoei, though the voice is distinctly more masculine, considering the vocal chords producing it. “The Citadel must not fall. Bring there, or…”
Hekate’s ears perk up, and ‘she’ whirls to look to the west once more. Veiranoei is confused, and Hekate whispers as ‘her’ ears fold down, a smile forming on her face, “I see… the child has gathered reliable allies…”
“I… don’t understand what’s going on.”
Hekate looks up at her with the sa blue eyes. “I’m sorry… Danger is present, but… It seems… I would not be able to arrive in ti.”
“I… I can try to…” starts Veiranoei, wondering if she should wake Daniel up at this point.
“No. This child is regaining consciousness, and… the lost child may yet find his place in this world.” Hekate wobbles a bit, and Veiranoei quickly steps close.
The imposter says one last thing, “I apologize for the fright, but… The Citadel… must… not… fall…”
‘Hekate’ falls unconscious, and Veiranoei catches her. The gatonine is left with more questions than answers, and she briefly glances around. Everyone is still busy, with so of the camp staging lines for another attempt to engage the mana fire. In the distance, a pair of flying dragons are returning towards the camp.
Whatever is going on, Veiranoei is in a place where her rather straightforward common sense no longer has the sa “commonness”, with how strange the truly powerful can be.
I’ll need to find a way to contact the Citadel and find out what’s going on. Hopefully, it’s not another dragon-monster thing.
As she does her best to lift Hekate up to carry her back into the tent, she ponders one last thought out loud, though at a soft volu.
“I hope it’s not sothing else that could cause the end of the world. I’ve had my fill of catastrophes already…”
***
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